Anthea Hodgson is a Perth based author who reminds readers of the importance of remembering the stories of the many nurses who supported soldiers and fought during World War II with her latest novel The War Nurses, available now via Penguin Random House Australia. The War Nurses is a story that is partially inspired by Anthea’s own family history, telling the life journey of her great Aunty Minnie Hodgson who died in the 1942 Bangka Island Massacre on Radji Beach.
This brutal tale of survival, friendship, and endurance is written with warmth and compassion, with Anthea’s words showering the nurses with respect and empathy, and ultimately a level of adoration that they have always deserved. Minnie Hodgson is not the only nurse whose story is recalled here, with Vivian Bullwinkel and Matron Irene Drummond also factoring into this eventual story.
While The War Nurses is partially fictionalised, Anthea respectfully retells the story of the aftermath of the fall of Singapore when hundreds were evacuated on the SS Vyner Brooke and honouring those of the remaining 65 Australian nurses who tended to the wounded. In a devastating turn of events, the Vyner Brooke was bombed, with 21 of the nurses surrendering to Japanese forces and falling to a terrible fate. The details of this massacre was long suppressed by the Australian government, which hid the truth of the events of rape and murder from the public until 2019.
The War Nurses is a powerful read, one that situates you alongside the nurses as they honourably embark on their journey into some of the most dangerous areas of the world during WW2 and sees the true spirit of what it means to be a nurse play out.
In this interview, Anthea talks about the personal connection to the story, what it means to sit with these stories and bring them back to life, and the conversations Anthea had with the photos of the nurses who she kept by her writing desk as she brought their stories back to life.
I understand that this is quite a personal story for you. Can talk about how important it was to draw on your familial heritage to tell this story?
Anthea Hodgson: It was huge and initially the reason that I started writing it at all. I’d always known that we had Aunty Minnie in our family history, but my family on both sides hadn’t a lot of people actually serve in the army or in the wars. On Anzac Day we would always say, “We don’t have anyone in [our family who was in] the war, but we had Aunty Minnie, but she was just a nurse.” That was kind of how we framed it when I was a little girl. Then as I grew up, and she was part of our heritage, I became more aware of [the other war nurses]. Vivian Bullwinkel and her incredible story came into it, and Matron Irene Drummond, who I’m looking at right now and sits beside me in my office.
I’ve got two kids, and we were talking about Anzac Day, and I told them the story about these nurses and what happened to their Aunt Minnie. I said how the Japanese had [arrived] and they lined up and held hands as they walked into the sea. I told them about how brave they’d been and about those incredible words from Matron Irene Drummond, “Chin up girls. I’m proud of you. I love you all.”
I didn’t realise how much that had stayed with my little girl, who had been about three at the time, because later on, for some other reason, I was talking about us being brave, and she said, “Oh, you mean like Aunty Bullwinkel.” I thought, “What the hell? Who is Aunty Bullwinkel?” Then we realised she’d actually merged the two [in her mind] and this idea of these brave women had stayed with her. And so of course, her ‘Aunty Bullwinkel’ was her Aunt Minnie.
It cemented for me that everyone has a great reason to be proud of these nurses because they’re incredible Australians. My family had reasons to be proud of Aunt Minnie, so I really wanted to record this story. I’m a fiction writer, and I really wanted to write it in a way that people who don’t read history would be interested and carried along with the story. A lot of people that I was speaking to hadn’t heard of [the story of the nurses], and they’re the very people that I want to hear this story. I want them to feel engaged with reading a story which is pretty incredible and for it not to be a list of stuff that happens. I want it to be a character journey as well, and that was one of the big challenges of writing it.
You would have done a lot of research for this book, how did that change your view of Perth?
AH: It’s more of a social history because so much of this happened overseas. My aunt grew up in Tate Street in West Leederville, and the Town of Cambridge is renaming a park after her. It used to be known as ‘Beer Park’, so it’s an upgrade to be called Minnie Hudson Park.
That generation of women and men were so no-nonsense. She would have gone off to war going, “Oh, well, I’m doing the right thing. It’s no big deal.” Then we look at what they did and what they put up with and we go “That is incredible.” I do like that social history of these very average women; because none of them were from incredible families or anything, they went off and they did their bit, and they did really bloody well. And I think that was really impressive.
My great grandfather started a farm out in Yealering and was clearing that while they were living in Tate Street, and when they moved out there, she went down to board at PLC. I hadn’t known this until I was in the [research] process that she was quite a strong-willed girl because she got a report card that she wasn’t too happy with, and it said ‘unsatisfactory’ on it. She took it upon herself and had words with the headmistress, as the family story goes, and then she turned up at home on the farm at Windstorm, and they had no idea she was coming. She would have been about 14 or 15. It’s about 140 miles, 200ks, and she got herself all the way there. I don’t know if she hitched or caught a railway bus or jumped from the grain train or what she did, but she got herself out to Yealering and walked up the front drive and that was the first thing anyone knew.
So, she was obviously a determined kind of woman. And in that era, that is the kind of person that became a nurse and went off and had these adventures. It’s that social history of that style of woman who wants to get out there, have a career and do their own thing, and then take that a step further and go overseas. Braver than me.
There is a real cinematic tone to the narrative, and that’s the inherent nature of war, but the things that these women go through is heart wrenching at times. What was it like being able to bring those stories to life for you?
AH: Oh my goodness, I’m tearing up just thinking about it.
It was really incredible, because so many of those stories [in the book] are true. I had some books that have been written recently like On Radji Beach by Ian Shaw and Angels of Mercy by Lynette Silver, [to refer to]. My granddad in the 50s, his sister was Aunt Minnie, he bought White Coolies by Betty Jeffery and While History Passed by Jessie Elizabeth Simons. Those books all have these tiny little details of stories about the nurses and the guts and the humour that they had.
I’ve tried to shoehorn as many stories in as I can. So many got taken out just because we just had to keep the action moving, but it was difficult because I got to know the girls so well. You could see so much kindness in them and so much strength, but at times, you could also see the attitudes of the time coming out in them. We now think that the girls on the beach were raped and because that was a fate worse than death, I think they didn’t want to dishonour them or upset their families by having that publicly known.
When the Japanese tried to turn some of the nurses into ‘comfort women’, they weren’t having a bar of it, but there were women that signed up to do that. And I think some of those women had children in the camp. I’ve got to say, if I was in that camp and my kid was starving or needed medicine, I would be doing anything it took to get stuff. Those women did help the rest of women if they needed medicine. But the nurses were also a little judgmental of them at times and would call them ‘the girlfriends’ and that sort of thing. Those sorts of social mores did carry over into my girls (characters).
But by and large, they put everyone else first. If one of them had medication and someone else needed some quinine (malaria medication), they would say, “Oh, look, I’m too sick. So and so is worse, so give it to her. It’s not worth giving it to me anymore.” That sort of thing.
Lovely Blanche, who is Beth in the book, literally did apologise for taking too long to die. Also, a driver left a yellow cardigan to one of the nurses who was taken up to the mountain camp and then, because it was so cold at night, and even though she was so starving and thin, she traded that in for food for her friend who was sick. If they had anything they could do, they would do it. I loved that about them. When they had to carry the water for the Japanese they would spit in the bucket. They were always resisting in their own way. Mentally they were never giving in.
They were always finding little bits of joy, like wearing chilli earrings, singing songs, making up songs about Mrs. Brown. There were so many snapshots of bravery and good humour and having the discussion groups and playing mah-jong. I would just sit in a corner and remain silent for three and a half years, I’m sure, but they just kept going, and I found that incredible.
As you’re saying, this is a story about resilience so I’m curious for you, as an author, how do you find resilience as you’re telling these stories?
AH: It took me a long time for a lot of reasons; they’re in Singapore for a whole year, then a lot of stuff happens on the SS Vyner Brooke, and then they’re in camps for three and a half years. It took me a long time because it’s hard to get the balance of telling the stories. I did cry a lot while I wrote a lot of those things, even with some of the scenes that aren’t even particularly upsetting.
One aspect that still makes me cry just thinking about it, which is not even upsetting, is the prologue and epilogue, which was based on a real event. They put a call out for people to bring flowers [to commemorate the nurses], and just the thought of the local women supporting them and wanting to bring flowers and [knowing that] people drove down from the country and women filled up wheelbarrows with flowers and brought them to support those other women that have been through so much; I just found that so moving.
Matron Irene Drummond’s quote I often can’t give without tearing up because it is just so loving. In that moment, she was the mother to those women. To have thought of other people in that moment, it’s just incredible to me.
When it happened, in the papers [it said] “We will never forget,” “We will never forget,” and yet, I keep talking to people about this and they don’t know. We have Simpson and his donkey, and we have that incredible scene in Gallipoli where they go over the top, but this really was a major thing; [and] we’ve forgotten it.
I really feel for these women so much that I hated writing it in a lot of ways because it was so hard, but I couldn’t possibly have stopped because I’ve got eight [photos] of these girls sitting next to me – I can’t take them down even now – and I felt like I couldn’t let them down because what I’m doing is nothing compared to what they did. Their bravery moves me so much.
As you mention, like with Gallipoli, so many of these stories have been told from the male perspective, and yet here, we’re getting to hear stories of the nurses. In some ways, you have become a custodian for these stories, ushering them in for a new generation.
AH: Thank you. I do hope so. I want it to be entertaining enough that people are willing to read it because [these are true events]. I don’t think that people, particularly these days, will necessarily pick up a book about history and read it, but I do want people to have an awareness of what went on. They were incredibly brave.
I hadn’t realised that when they got onto the Vyner Brooke, the Colonel said, “Please don’t get on that, it’s a death trap. You won’t make it through.” Even when they were on the ship, they gave up their food for everyone else. They were in charge of making sure everything was alright. They went into full nursing mode on the way home. They were working hard, and they were going without [essential items] even then.
And when they knew they were going to be bombed, they said, “We’re the last ones off the ship, we will get everyone else off.” They did everything they could for other people all the time. They didn’t want to leave the patients in Singapore, and there were nurses refusing to do so, and eventually they got everyone out. When they were on the beach, they said, “They made us leave some patients in Singapore to go on other ships, but we’re not leaving them now.” So they stayed with their patients.
You’re talking about having the pictures of the nurses next to you as you’re writing, I’m curious, do you have conversations with their pictures about their lives?
AH: I really do, particularly with Minnie. I do. Writing about someone is a very intimate thing, you’re right in their mind. I do have chats with those girls. Beth in the book, who is Blanche Hempsted, is just total cracker, she’s drinking and smoking in Queensland, so of course, I love her. She’s always great fun. I do have chats to Aunt Minnie and to Irene Drummond; they all would have been such fine women to have known.
Aunt Minnie was a matron in Kondinin, and she was quite taken with a farmer in Kulin, who ended up falling for someone else. My granddad always regarded him as having caused Aunt Minnie to join up and I think he brought a certain amount of undeserved resentment towards the poor man. I do wonder where she would have been [otherwise]; I reckon she would have been a farmer’s wife, because in those days, she would have had to stop nursing once you’re married. She would have married a nice man from Kulin, and settled down and have some chooks, and chased sheep and all that sort of stuff.
Vivian Bullwinkel was incredible. She lived to a ripe old age. I don’t have her as a character as much in the book because when it’s a real person, a bit the same with Drummond, I don’t like to fictionalise them too much, because they really existed. With my aunt, I felt like I had a little bit of leeway because she’s part of my family, but still, a lot of that history that I gave her is true history. Her brother did drown in the Swan [River], but he wasn’t her twin, so I did give her some stuff.
I felt like I could give a fictional voice to Blanche because I called her Beth, and I could give a fictional voice to Minnie because I have an idea of who she is. I was more careful with Drummond and particularly careful with Vivian.
Vivian, funnily enough, ended up living in the same street as my granddad in Nedlands. In 2000, my mum and dad bumped into Vivian at a memorial, and Vivian said to my dad, “Are you Minnie’s nephew?” And dad said “Yes, I am.” She said, “I’ve got some to tell you.” She had a big queue of people waiting to talk to her, and being February, it was stinking hot, so mum and dad said, “We know where you live, we’ll come around and see you at home when you’re more comfortable,” because she was in a wheelchair by that stage. They intended to go and see her and then she died three months later, so they didn’t ever get to talk to her and see what it was she’d wanted to say. Presumably it was about Aunt Minnie. Mum is sad that they didn’t ever catch up with her in time. She was an incredible woman. Vivian Bullwinkel had an incredible smile and had it the whole way through. She’s got this strong, open, honest face. It’s an incredible and wonderful smile.
