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Out for the count.

An Army Medical Officer was bending over me, and the Queen's Christmas address was being broadcast on the radio when I regained consciousness. An Army Sister and the RAF Medical Sergeant from Borgentreich were there, too.1 I was in bed somewhere. Almost as soon as I realised who was around me I faced a barrage of questions. The one that was asked several times was "How much did you have to drink last night?" Each time I replied "Nothing. I was on watch." The RAF Sergeant then substantiated my replies. The MO then bent low over me to check my breath. The Sergeant then explained that I had collapsed after coming off duty, had been seen by the local German Doctor, diagnosed as having a bleeding ulcer, been taken to SSQ and put to bed until daylight, and then brought by ambulance to wherever I was now. At least I found out what had happened. The MO, not in the best of humours, because my arrival had upset his Christmas activities, then suggested that the Sergeant and his Orderly had better get back to Borgentreich. Only then was I given a full medical examination. I asked the Sister, whose name I later discovered was Sister O'Day (that's how it was pronounced), where I was. She said "You're in BMH Rinteln."2 "Where's that?" I asked. "Near Minden," she replied. At that, the greyness set in again.
I was diagnosed with having a bleeding peptic ulcer, brought on as a result of overwork, anxiety, and too much greasy food. No operation was thought necessary. On enquiring how long I might be in hospital I was told "Several weeks."
Just before New Year's day a Flight Lieutenant with a broken leg arrived in my ward. He was none other than the Station Adjutant from Scharfoldendorf whom I had met before when changing weapons in their Armoury. He had fallen over on the ice outside the front gate of his Married Quarter on his way to work. Having previously been on my own in the small ward in the Officers Area I now had someone to talk to. We both had phone calls from our respective camps. Flt.Lt. Bill Billing came to see me a couple of times and brought me books, clothes from my room, and my radio. It was he who told me that I was now a Flight Lieutenant. I couldn't put my new rank up because I had no spare braid. On listening to one of the BFN Sunday morning request programmes I was surprised to hear a tune dedicated to me, wishing me a speedy recovery, from my colleagues at Borgentreich.
As I recovered I was allowed up and was slowly weaned off my milky, low roughage, diet. Then I suffered several migraine attacks which gave the medics some concern because I vomited during each one. These passed and I recovered sufficiently to be discharged back to Borgentreich, sick, with no duties.
Just 48 hours later I was sent home on sick leave pending further instructions. I was at home for about a fortnight when orders came for me to return to RAF Hospital Wegburg, near Wildenrath, in Germany. By this time, though, I had bought braid and shoulder tabs and was now visibly a Flight Lieutenant. This gave me the privilege of better sleeping quarters on the troop-ship, and, joy of joys, a cup of tea brought to me in the morning!
On arrival at Wegberg on March the 11th I was put under observation and stayed there until interviewed by a Medical Board. I had suffered more migraine attacks and was warned that I may be invalided out of the RAF. I occupied myself as
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1 The Army Sister was in the Queen Alexandra's Royal Army Nursing Corps, as were all the nursing staff. The RAF hospital Sisters were in Princess Mary's Royal Air Force Nursing Service.
2 BMH = British Military Hospital.
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