Years later, and holding a post-graduate degree in philosophy, politics and economics from St Edmund Hall, Oxford, he acted on his interest in agriculture by purchasing a remote clifftop farm in Wales where he planned to spend the rest of his life. The farm overlooked the sea, and on clear days, the coast of Ireland was just visible in the far distance. Little could he know that his dream of spending a life in these bucolic surroundings was not going to happen; or that Ireland would play a major role in his life. 

Or that he would live for most of the rest of his existence immersed in disease, dirt, pollution, corruption and terrible human suffering. 

Groceries and household supplies were available from a local shop accessed over hilly and bumpy rural roads. The village also had a second-hand bookshop which provided pleasant browsing. It was in here where Jack one day came across an old, beautifully bound, Christian bible. Despite having no intention of ever reading this, he found the book so aesthetically pleasing that he purchased it on a whim. For sixpence. (in today's money, 2.5 pence or $0.30

This large and venerable volume occupied a corner of the kitchen table where it provided a pleasant old-world feeling during mealtimes. Occasionally, he would open it, simply to admire the print, the fine quality of the pages, and the dedicated craftsmanship. As an agnostic however, there was no reason to either read, or even revisit, the Old Testament of his upbringing. And the New Testament had anyway been off limits to his previous faith.  

Long, cold, winter evenings coupled with academic curiosity however, led to Jack idly perusing the 'forbidden' four gospels. Although he dismissed the stories of a virgin birth, resurrection, and all other things metaphysical, he considered that the basic teachings made good sense.

        Some readers might consider that the presence of the holy book in his isolated home perhaps opened a door for Jack to experience something far beyond his world of crops and cows. It was certainly an event which exceeded the boundaries of science, logic, and the material world: - this was a definite: “calling”

People may be ‘called’ by intellect or a predisposition to follow a profession or activity through a growing desire to address some suffering or injustice; others seek personal happiness in doing something benevolent, and worthwhile.

Rarer examples involve an extrasensory experience, the best known being that of the Catholic nun, Anjeze Gonxhe Bojaxhiu, known later as Mother Teresa, who was 'called' to devote her life to the poor on a train to Darjeeling. These categories form interesting domains for study by psychologists and divinity students.   

Jack Preger's calling however, fits neither. And there was no instruction 'to serve the poor' although that is indeed what it led to. It therefore remains today as mysterious, and absurd, as the day it happened. 

Here was an agnostic farmer with no wish to follow any another occupation, and for readers to grasp the extraordinary nature of the strange event, you must picture him that day in 1964, on his farm, when he was ‘told' to become, of all things - a doctor. 

This was not some kind of hallucinatory revelation. There was no burning bush, or any feeling of a supernatural presence; just a simple, authoritative, instruction, placed, permanently, in his head. The circumstances were as unlikely as the event, since it happened whilst he was spreading manure on his tractor.

And the absurdity did not end there. First, he had no interest in medicine, far less any wish to become a doctor. To “obey’ this command from nowhere, he would have to abandon his vocation, sell his farm, relocate to a city, and as a man now accustomed to manual labour, begin years of arduous study in a subject of no personal interest. 

This also presented two major problems. His existing Oxford qualifications lacked subjects required for acceptance in medical college, and this would require further courses, before he could even start. Furthermore, mature medical students are not readily accepted in most universities. On top of that, it would take at least five or six years to graduate.

This strange event on his tractor marked the extraordinary prelude to Jack Preger’s future life as a medical doctor. The rest, as you will see, would follow. 

(Little did he know that many years later, in 1993, he would be awarded a Member of the British Empire (MBE) by Queen Elizabeth, for: "continued perseverance and incredible selflessness” and in 2017, named: “Asian Philanthropist of the Year” at an awards ceremony in London, England.)

Jack meantime began to reconsider his agnostic status. The basic teachings in the gospels had struck a chord of wisdom, philosophy, and common sense. He had also been impressed by the devotion of some of his temporary Irish farm workers whom would to drive to Catholic Mass in the village, and he wait outside the church to take them back to the farm.

A friendship with a village priest accelerated what was now a slowly evolving transcendence, and finally a conviction, based on the simplest teaching of the gospels, The Jewish schoolboy who had removed his kippah many years before, was now on his way to become a Roman Catholic.

He was confirmed into the church, in 1967, three years after the tractor happening. 

In 1972, aged now 42, Jack Preger, MD, graduated from the Royal College of Surgeons in Dublin, Ireland, and answered a call for urgent medical help treating victims of the terrible refugee crisis in the newly-formed Bangladesh. During his seven years there, he exposed heinous trafficking in children which implicated some high officials. As a result of his whistle blowing, the authorities decided to expel him. They destroyed the mother and child clinic he had created. Patients were thrown out in the street. Some were left there to die.

His clinic was not the only thing to suffer. The scale of the refugee suffering in Bangladesh was immense, and horrifying. It called for empathy, compassion, and action.  The Catholic Church bourgeoisie there however, showed no such commitment. Seemingly immune to the human nightmare surrounding them, they wore fine clothes, sported gold symbols of their faith, and ignored the dreadful daily misery and death. Some were seen stepping over people lying in the street.

This was ungodly anathema to Jack. To any true believer, common sense would suggest that the Almighty does not seek endless praise, the dictation of pro-forma prayers, or the routine singing of hymns in hugely expensive buildings, decorated with valuable symbols. 

True reverence for our divine nature surely manifests through in taking action to alleviate the suffering of others, not in scripted rituals. This cried out for humanitarian deeds, not self-righteous, rehearsed devotion.
   

When he later visited the UK, and attended a holy Mass in London, he experienced the same level of what he called “religious theatre” in his own country. This effectively ended his association with the Catholic church. From now on, Jack would embrace an eclectic, simple faith, without ceremony, or staged performances.

As a result of his exposure of baby smuggling, Jack was deported by the Bangladesh authorities, and relocated to Calcutta in 1979. Here, he initially worked with Mother Teresa, but found the primitive conditions and needless suffering medically unacceptable. Officially not permitted to practice medicine in India, but recognising the desperate need among the poor and the street dwellers, he first treated homeless people where they 'lived' -- under bridges, in drainage pipes, and railway platforms.

This led to the creation of a 'central' medical treatment area - a rudimentary clinic erected every morning, at the side of the road. Under primitive coverings, with passing traffic, the former farmer in Wales now sat with his stethoscope on a dusty broken pavement in India, surrounded by destitute, sick, and injured patients, and volunteers. A long way now, from spreading manure on a farm with his tractor.

And a long way from being as simple.

At one point he was imprisoned in Alipore Jail on immigration charges. And as a source of non-revenue to the street Mafia, he was constantly threatened by local undesirables. Searing heat, monsoon rains and choking air pollution added to the difficulties. Nothing came easily, except the ever-growing numbers of sick, injured and suffering patients who came to this British doctor for treatment. On several occasions, the clinic handled over 500 cases in a single day.

Most people would imagine that such a temporary and precarious arrangement could not endure more than a few days. But supported by dogged determination and donations, this primitive doctor's surgery on the pavement operated six days a week, for fourteen years, from 1979 to 1993. During this time, it provided free medical care to hundreds of thousands of poor people and pavement dwellers; saved countless lives.

Jack hired local doctors who were prepared to work for tiny salaries, or in some cases, for free. Curious overland backpackers hearing about this unlikely story,came to see the clinic. Many of them, astounded and inspired by Jack's work, cancelled their onward travel plans and became volunteers. Some of them will no doubt read this, and recall just how incredibly basic, yet how meaningful, and truly wonderful, it was.

The 'work' (as Jack always called it) was finally registered as an official charity named Calcutta Rescue, in 1991. Today, various centres around the world raise money to sustain it, many originally started by former volunteers. Jack retired to the UK in 2018 aged 88 after nearly forty years of treating sick and injured human beings, free of charge.  

As you read this, Calcutta Rescue is carrying on the work Jack Preger, MBE, first started in 1979, on that stretch of dusty pavement, in India.

And what he began back then, still follows today. 

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