RAF KHORMAKSAR in 1951 is a wonderful place for a precocious 10 year old, with lots of exciting things to discover, not least in the Medical Officer’s surgery which I am visiting for an ear infection. On the wall is a huge poster bearing the interesting legend:
GUARD AGAINST VD!
“Mum, what’s VD?” I pipe up. “Just be thankful you haven’t got it, son, you’ll find out soon enough”, she replies. “Yes, but how can I guard against it if I don’t know what it is?” Mother looks imploringly at the MO, Flt Lt Powell, who has bowed his head and is shuffling papers on his desk. “That’s right, you don’t have to worry about it. It’s something that only affects grown ups”. “How do you catch it, sir?”, I persist. “Is it something like the flu? Why don’t children catch it? Do you get it at home, or just out here in Aden?” “Well, it’s not quite like flu, but you don’t need to worry, only grown ups catch it”. “Have you had it, sir?” I ask.
Then I notice that the MO is in some distress. His face has turned red, his eyes are watering and he has his hand over his mouth the way my little sister does when she’s going to throw up. That’s enough, says mum, show the doctor your sore ear. No swimming for another fortnight, he says, exchanging glances with my mother. There’s something going on here, I think, but there’s no further discussion as I am marched schoolwards at the double despite the heat that hits us like a wave as we emerge from the cool sick quarters.
Our house is on the corner of the married patch, overlooking the RAF school and only 50 yds away. This can be a mixed blessing, as my best friend David Brindley and I found last week when re-enacting
She Wore a Yellow Ribbon after its premiere in the Astra Cinema. We gallop into our livingroom ahead of the Seventh Cavalry to find Miss Buckle our teacher has popped over for tea with my parents. Miss Buckle is very old, I overheard Mum tell Dad she was about 38. Like a cobra, she reacts instantly to any sudden movement by small boys and impales us with her basilisk stare before she remembers where she is and bares her teeth in a terrifying smile instead. It gives me quite a fright while David is so shaken he doesn’t come near our house for a week.
Mum leaves me to the classroom door, I slip into my seat and tell Miss Buckle that I won’t be able to swim in the school contest. “That’s a pity, is your ear still sore?” Yes miss, but mum says I should be thankful I haven’t got VD”. “She said WHAT?” I wilt under Miss Buckle’s terrifying glare, and fear I’ve said something wrong. “Please miss, it says about VD on the MO’s wall and when I asked him what it was he said it’s a grown up problem and I’m not to worry because children can’t catch it”.
Miss Buckle’s face turns red, her mouth twitches, she lifts her desk lid and rummages around inside it, head down. What’s wrong, I wonder? Miss Buckle is not well, maybe she has caught ... an awful possibility crosses my mind. I hope that Graham hasn’t caught one of the four-inch locusts that drift across from Ethiopia. He likes to hide one in her desk so it flies out with a mighty whirr when the desk is opened, because Miss Buckle gets very excited when this happens and while it’s most entertaining to watch in normal times we are in an unstable situation here. Robert pokes me in the back with a ruler and asks what it’s all about, while David is muttering something from across the aisle. We don’t notice Miss Buckle racing down the classroom until the crack of ruler on close cropped head and yelps of pain end further discussion.
When school ends at lunchtime we head for the pool and spend our afternoon discussing this mysterious illness. We can’t think of the answer ... but we know a man who can.
Tomorrow: our mystery deepens as the Khormaksar Kids fall under the icy shadow of the Cold War. 