A Ten-Year-Old's Memories of the Influenza Pandemic

In the year 1919, the men were all back from World War I and back into civilian life. The shouting and the tumult had died down and the week-long hāngi to celebrate the victory had been a glorious success and dozens of pigs, lambs, turkeys and plenty of prime beef consumed. The jubilation found expression night and day and the pit fires never went cold.

The cloud on the horizon now was the flu epidemic the troops had brought back and it spread at an unbelievable speed the length of breadth of New Zealand. It was so virulent that almost without exception if one caught it, the whole house went down. Rooms were set up in all the small towns and people went and had formalin sprayed over them. It was recognised that people who were conscientious in their attendance did have a better chance of a quicker recovery.¹

The Burts were faithful and never missed a day. We still went down with the exception of my younger sister, a five-year-old who was farmed out to a neighbour when my parents and I all had to go to hospital.

The men’s ward was overflowing with corridors, alcoves and every possible corner pressed into service. The result was that I was positioned in the passageway and just inside the main door. The biggest drawback [of] being there was all the dead bodies came right beside my bed, on the way to the morgue. The flesh went black soon after death² and that also presented an unsettling factor for a 10-year-old.

However, the epidemic was on the wane and within a few days I was shifted into the ward. With the proper treatment and drugs, my mother and I were discharged. Father had a worse case and was kept another week and even then he was pretty weak and needed extra attention. Mother impressed on me that the Lord had healed me. At every opportunity, she brought it home to me that I was spared for a reason. No doubt at all I had a job to do and a commission to carry out.

1. In fact, the formalin spraying probably contributed to spreading the infection.

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2. “Without sufficient oxygen, patients would suffer from cyanosis—a discoloration of the skin. Two hours after admission they have the mahogany spots over the cheek bones,” a physician wrote at the time, describing the epidemic at Camp Devens, Massachusetts. “And in a few hours you can begin to see the cyanosis extended from the ears and spreading all over the face, until it is hard to distinguish the colored man from the white.” Nurses would triage incoming flu patients by looking at the color of their feet. Patients whose feet were black were considered as good as dead.”