Arriving in Calcutta

 

 

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Introduction

 

The 1940s saw a great turnover of population in Calcutta.  Many left in the late 40s, but many also arrived for the first time: soldiers from all corners of the world, many young enlisted men with little experience of life beyond their homes and no previous knowledge of India; workers attracted to the wages in the war related industries; refugees from Burma, East-Bengal and the famine-districts; journalists reporting on the upheavals and administrators trying to cope with them; and of course all of their families as well. Their means of travel, cultural backgrounds and reasons for coming here differed widely as did their reactions to Calcutta, but few would ever be able to forget arriving in the city for the first time. 

 

 

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How I got to Calcutta

 

 

 

 

        _____Pictures of 1940s Calcutta_________________________

 

 

 

 

 

        _____Contemporary Records of or about 1940s Calcutta___

 

Recapitulation

Dearest Ritter:

Recapitulation:

October 13, 1945

August 7, 1944, arrived Bombay

September 4, 1944, left Bombay

September 11, 1944, arrived Calcutta

September 20, 1944, left Camp Kanchrapara for Ledo as train guard

September 1, 1944, arrived in Calcutta with Turner

September 4, 1944, left Calcutta

Either 6th or 7th arrived Tenth at Dinjan, Assam

September 13, 1944, arrived Calcutta by plane.

Which surely brings us up-to-date, right on the nose. One year ago today, I was in this town, and how happy I am that that year is behind us, with both the ETO and CBI and Jap war brought to a tactical close. If we have luck and leave as a general hospital soon, then I may be home in three to four months, otherwise it may well go into spring of 1946. You know that I incline to the former view, but I have no reason for being sure that I would go with the 142nd or even of knowing that fate might not send the 142nd to some other theater.

Richard Beard, US Army Lieutenant Psychologist with 142 US military hospital. Calcutta, October 13, 1945.

(Source: p.217 of Elaine Pinkerton (ed.): “From Calcutta With Love: The World War II Letters of Richard and Reva Beard” Lubbock: Texas Tech University Press, 2002 / Reproduced by courtesy of Texas Tech University Press)

 

YOU and your outfit have been assigned one of the most important military missions ever given to American soldiers

YOU and your outfit have been assigned one of the most important military missions ever given to American soldiers - the task of driving the Japanese back to Tokyo. In this global war it is not enough that you should be able to destroy or immobilize all who are your nation's enemies; you must be able to win the respect and good will of all who are not.

  Right now the world is our workshop and whether we, and the other United Nations, can get it back in running order again depends on how much we know about the materials in it - meaning the people. By winning their confidence and convincing them of our good faith, we shall find many short cuts to success over the enemy and lay the foundation of international understanding that are essential to building a worth-while, enduring peace.

 

(source: “A Pocket Guide to India” Special Service Division, Army Service Forces, United States Army. War and Navy Departments Washington D.C [early 1940s]:  at: http://cbi-theater-2.home.comcast.net/booklet/guide-to-india.html)

 

 

YOU and your outfit have been assigned one of the most important military missions ever given to American soldiers

YOU and your outfit have been assigned one of the most important military missions ever given to American soldiers - the task of driving the Japanese back to Tokyo. In this global war it is not enough that you should be able to destroy or immobilize all who are your nation's enemies; you must be able to win the respect and good will of all who are not.

  Right now the world is our workshop and whether we, and the other United Nations, can get it back in running order again depends on how much we know about the materials in it - meaning the people. By winning their confidence and convincing them of our good faith, we shall find many short cuts to success over the enemy and lay the foundation of international understanding that are essential to building a worth-while, enduring peace.

 

(source: “A Pocket Guide to India” Special Service Division, Army Service Forces, United States Army. War and Navy Departments Washington D.C [early 1940s]:  at: http://cbi-theater-2.home.comcast.net/booklet/guide-to-india.html)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

 

 

        _____Memories of 1940s Calcutta_________________________

 

 

I'm really going to see India!

Personally, I felt that if I had had my choice of anyplace to be assigned, that war activities might have dictated, India and Burma were my first choices. I really didn't know where I was headed upon boarding that troop ship at an Eastern US port. It wasn't until I learned we were in the Bay of Bengal, 44 days later, that I almost whooped for joy. We must be headed for India, I rightly thought. India and Burma brought to mind some travel adventure books I had read as a youngster. The region had a magical ring to it. My personal thoughts were, "WOW, I'm really going to see India.

 

I especially remember a book by a Richard Halliburton entitled, "Royal Road to Romance." I read that book with a flashlight in bed, night after night. It consisted of his adventures in India and his description of the Taj Mahal in moonlight was unforgettable. Yes, I did get to see the Taj in moonlight. No, I'll never forget the experience.

 

So, from reading that book many years previously, I wanted to see and be a part of India. That accounts for why I so enjoyed wandering streets and riverfront in Calcutta, observing and photographing the city and its inhabitants as daily activity took place.

Glenn Hensley, Photography Technician with US Army Airforce, Summer 1944

(source: a series of E-Mail interviews with Glenn Hensley between 12th June 2001 and 28th August 2001)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced by permission of Glenn Hensley)

 

Return to Calcutta after a ’Long Leave’

I first arrived in Calcutta just five months old in Dec 1937, at which time my 'Jute Wallah' parents had returned to Megna Jute mills, Jagatdal, having spent their six months long-leave overseas. Just before the end of world war two the Miln family travelled to the UK for another 'long leave' period; we returned to Calcutta in October 1945 when I was eight years of age. I have very fond memories of 'compound life' during the following five years. We arrived at Howrah station after a two day rail-journey from Bombay -1 can recall staring out of the carriage window at the seemingly endless brown dusty plains of India-the ’chai-wallah's' call of ’Gurram Chai' at almost every station. From Howrah we travelled by 'Gorah - Ghari' across the Howrah Bridge to Calcutta proper, and then by taxi to Megna Mills compound - our home- […]

Kenneth Miln, son of a ‘jute wallah’. Jagatdal/Calcutta, 1945-49
 (source: Letter sent to us  by Mr Kenneth Miln himself, July 2006 / Reproduced by courtesy of Kenneth Miln)

 

 

a huge block of ice for coolness

I was sent to Calcutta, a three day journey on the train, and was the only woman on it. I had a carriage to myself, which included bunks, a fan and a huge block of ice for coolness, which eventually melted and wet everything. I bought food from the platforms, when it stopped in the stations. I was quite lonely, but had books to read. In Calcutta I was working in Zenana House, which was on loan from a maharajah. It was a big hostel, taking over 100 women.

Rene Thompson (nee Laird), YWCA Welfare worker, Calcutta, 1944

 

(source: A8456952 Life running YWCA hostels in Bombay, Calcutta and Bangalore at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

A job broker approached me at the station …

I made my first trip to Calcutta from Cochin in a third-class compartment of Howrah Mail. The ticket cost Rs 13. Clad in a dhoti and shirt and clutching my belongings — a tin box and a bedroll — I got off at a neat and clean Howrah station. A job broker approached me at the station itself and gave me the address of an office and Rs 10 as advance salary.

(N.S. Mani, newly employed office worker from Kerala, Calcutta, February 1945
(source: Telegraph Thursday, October 27, 2005)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with N.S. Mani )

 

Flying in form China

It was late afternoon before we started, so we had to go over the enemy lines after dark. We flew very low. At times we could make out the shapes of the hills towering above us, and it seems as if the planes's wing tips must surely be able to scrape the rocks. At times, in air pockets, we seemed to drop very sharply. At one point it was evident that we were in trouble. We were instructed to make the emergency procedure of fastening our seat-belts, with the plane behaving as though we were in distress. As I huged our wee Monica I whispered to Andrew "Safe in the arms of Jesus"

In spite of yhis the plane carried on and over Yunnan and Burma. Planes in the 1940s were not at all like they are today, and many of the misionaries from the China Inland Fellowship were killed when the plane they were travelling in went down. While we were waiting in Kumming, three of our missionaries were being evacuated ahead of the Japanese advance. The plan crashed and they all were killed. Andrew attended the funeral while I looked after the children.

We were pleased and relieved to land at Assam, and after a short stop were thankful for a smooth flight to Calcutta, with the dangers of the flight'over the hump' behind us. We had no friends in Calcutta, but a kind and thoughtful missionary had had it laid on his heart to wait all night at the airport, as he knew that all missionaries had by now been advised to leave China as swiftly as they possibly could. So, in case any assistace was needed, he was waiting there, and he was there for us. How glad we were to see him. Bundled into a lorry, we drove the eleven miles to the city. Our kind friend took us to a school where, after making some porridge on my little primus stove for the children, we went to sleep on the floor.

In the morning we wondered what we could do, and Andrew had the idea of visiting the Church of Scotland Mission. This was indeed an answer to prayer. The missionary there was Miss Robbie, a teacher from Edinburgh, and I had trained at the Royal Infirmary with her sister, Nan. She told us at once that we could stay there for as long as we needed to. We had been advised by a message from the Consul not to go to Bombay for the passage home until we had word that a boat was arriving. I had had no other news from home, and the last letter I had received was about four years previously. I did have a snall parcel from Charlotte Chapel in Edinburgh about four years before...but it had taken one year to arrive!

Mary Kennedy(nee Weightman), wife of a missionary China Inland Fellowship, China to Calcutta, early 1940s

 

(source: A7091273 Escape from Chine (Part 3) Over Enemy Lines. at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

Travel by train in India is a real experience

By this time it had been confirmed that 232 was beyond redemption and postings came through splitting its members up all over the place. The majority of us were posted to 221 Group H.F. Calcutta.

My final night at Drigh Rd was spent at the camp cinema with Brian Wilson watching "Fantasia”. Bob Robinson and Jack Spencer didn't feel they could face it for the third time so settled for the limited joy of the canteen.

The following day, April 26th 1942, we began our trans India rail journey from Karachi to Calcutta. It was to take four days and it was a tiring but wonderful experience. Wooden seats in the compartments gave room to lie down to sleep. There was so much to see, hear and smell that I slept only in snatches. Travel by train in India is a real experience. I suppose the journey was about 1600 miles and took four days. Allowing daily stops totalling about 4 hours for various reasons it works out at 400 miles a day in 20 hours -i.e. an average of 20 mph. Why the four hour stops? Well, the train had to take on fuel and water as well as load and unload people and luggage and take on food. Also, it used to be the practice to phone through from one station to the next to say how many people wanted a meal, lunch or dinner. The train would then stop at the next station for an hour or so whilst supper or whatever was served in the station restaurant. The rest of us would have our food delivered from the cookhouse truck or would go for a walk around the train until time to depart. Whenever the train stopped, one of us would run up to the engine with a large iron pot containing tea leaves and fill it with hot water.

So, by and large, 20 hours travelling a day was fair enough and 20 mph gave us ample opportunity to see the details of this fascinating country as we passed along. The route was like a history lesson with its familiar place names -- Karachi -- Hyderabad -- Jodenpur -- Jaipur -- Agra -- Cawnpore -- Allahabad -- Benares -- Calcutta. Almost every type of scenery was experienced from the desert of Sind to the jungles of Bengal with such wonders as the bridge of Benares in between. Many and varied were the appearance and dress of the people we saw. All in all, one of life's high spots -- an unforgettable experience.

Our excitement and anticipation mounted as we neared Calcutta. We had no idea what our new home would be like, but feared the worst after Karachi.

At last we arrived at Howrah station and were put into buses. I found it difficult to believe that what I was seeing was real.

Harry Tweedale, RAF Signals Section, Train to Calcutta, April 1942

 

(source: A6665457 TWEEDALE's WAR Part 11 Pages 85-92 at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

Women issued tea and bread and cheese

When they got to Durban, the convoy split up. Most of the convoy, dad thinks, all went north up the east coast of Africa to Egypt to make up the numbers for the 8th Army to begin the El Alamein campaign. But the Duchess of Bedford was sent without convoy to Bombay, and they immediately went from the ship to a train and sent across India; three or four days non-stop sitting on hard sacks to Calcutta. It would stop and start but whenever they came to a station or halt or the signals went against them, they used to get out of their carriages, run up to the engine with a kettle and draw hot water off the engine to make tea! A couple of packets of tea with condensed milk and that… Then people go sick all the time because of changes of climate and the sanitary conditions, but there’s no point in reporting sick because there are no sick parades. You just had to put up with it. The toilets on the train were just holes in the floor basically.

When they got to Calcutta, they were fed. Women issued tea and bread and cheese. I suppose it was the Indian version of the Women’s Voluntary Service. Anyway, they were taken out to the Urania and I think she was anchored in Garden Reach, which is where the river runs down past Calcutta. They had to board her by going up scramble nets with rifles and… two kit bags on your back. Down to the mouth of the Hooghli and promptly ran aground. And of course everybody was sitting around for twenty-four hours waiting for the tide, hoping that the Jap bombers didn’t turn up.

Wilfred Jepson, Royal Air Force, Calcutta, January 1942

 

(source: A8119000 How AC2 Jepson met Mme Chiang Kai-shek - Part 1 at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

I’m off tomorrow and they won't tell me anything

But it all had to end, "get your kit together, you're posted". I thought off to France like everyone else at that time. I told Jill, I’m off tomorrow and they won't tell me anything. So we agreed not to get engaged or make any commitments just to write letters! Next day I was on a troop train at night, to finish at a strange city that proved to be Liverpool. And then I was on another troop ship for 6 weeks, escorted by Royal Navy Destroyers who attacked German submarines through the Straits of Gibraltar, and on to Bombay!

Jill got letters cut to bits by the censors and I got nothing, but Bombay was nice - sea front, (sodium street lights which I’d never seen before), electric trams and trains - all new to me (and blacked out in England). I stayed in an RAF transit camp for about a month.

Then I received a train ticket to Calcutta on a troop train which took more than a week, with a hot meal sometimes when we stopped at a station but the rest of the time we ate American K rations. They weren't too bad when we could get hot water to mix the soup with.

Philip Miles, RAF photo reconnaissance unit, Calcutta, mid 1940s

 

(source: A4144664 What did you do in the RAF, Dad? (Part 2) at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

I wondered whether I could be sent somewhere where there’s still a war going on?

From the Special Communications Unit, Section 8:

Early February, 1945:

Since our return from the London course I am feeling that life as we knew it is ending here. So many people are being transferred to other places and the underground movements on the Continent are coming to the surface and there is very little to do here now. One morning I asked if I could see Pop. He sat behind his big desk and smiled at me kindly.

“And what can I do for you?”

‘Well, Pop, the trouble is that I haven’t anything much to do now. I wondered whether I could be sent somewhere where there’s still a war going on?’

His smile broadened and his eyes twinkled. “Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can do. Come and see me in a week’s time.”

A week later I sat in front of him again. “Well now, Evelyn, there’s only one place where someone is needed and that is Calcutta. That would be the same job as you are doing now but concerning Burma.” He beamed at me and then said, “But I advise you not to go. Calcutta’s an awful place. Steamy heat. And you’ll get cholera and that microbe that starts in your toe and eats its way up your bones. Much better stay here.”

But I was not to be deflected. Microbe or no, Calcutta was better than boredom and Pop reluctantly agreed to let me go.

By April 1945 I was ready to depart for India.

April, 1945

At Hurn Airport I had the first glimpse of the Sunderland flying boat which was to take me to India. She lay tranquilly on the water, small but sturdy, and I felt that we should all be perfectly safe and that she would get us there. There were twelve of us on board — officers of mixed rank and services — and I was the only girl and perhaps the only AT in India, or so I had been told. We each had a single seat beside a window so there was an unrestricted view of the scene below. Where there was something of particular interest the pilot came down lower so that we could see better. Towards late afternoon we arrived at Bahrain and were taken ashore by dinghy and that night I had the first sensation of sleeping under a mosquito net in real heat. The following night we spent in Cairo, the one after that in Karachi; then came the flight across the great continent of India where the pilot came down low so that we could see the herds of animals stampeding away from the noise of the engine. Finally we reached Calcutta, came down on the Hooghli, were transferred ashore and conveyed to the railway station where I was being met and my fellow passengers could take trains to wherever they were going. I think we were all sorry when the journey ended. As they shook hands to say farewell, each one asked again if I would be alright and could safely be left and were reassured before they walked away, leaving me on a seat by the station entrance where I could see and be seen.

For a while I sat peacefully waiting to be collected and watching with interest the family groups sitting on the floor of this great station foyer and feeling the strangeness of life in a continent on the other side of the world. After a while, though, I began to feel uneasy. It was over an hour since we had arrived. I was entirely alone in this enormous city where I knew no-one, and the only clue I had to where I was meant to be was a set of initials. I had no idea what they stood for.

As the minutes ticked by and no-one came I began to think about what to do. On the station I had noticed a sign saying “RTO”, standing for “Railway Transit Officer” and was on the point of going to seek his help when I saw, to my relief, one of the army officers who had been a passenger on the Sunderland. He was walking towards the station exit when he saw me and came over with a look of surprise.

“Hello! You’re still here! I thought you said you were being collected?”

‘Yes, I thought I was, but no-one’s come.’

“Oh Lord! Well, I’ve got a jeep outside. I’ll take you. Where are you going?”

‘I don’t know.’

His face expressed wry disbelief. “Haven’t you got any address?”

‘No. Only some initials.’

“What are they?”

I told him. His face cleared. “Well, you’re in luck. I should think I’m the only man in Calcutta, outside your own outfit, who knows what they stand for. And what’s more, I know where they are. Come on, I’ll get you there.”

We sped off in the jeep, through the bustling streets, where rickshaws competed with cars, overloaded buses, army transport and the defensive gestures of policemen on platforms desperately trying to control it all. In time this gave way to a residential area where large houses and gardens lined the roads. At one of these we stopped and rang the bell. The door was opened by a white clad youth and in the hall behind him I saw the familiar, portly figure of Major Sharpe, my colleague from Whaddon. Oh the relief!

Once assured that I was safe and in the right place my rescuer drove away and Sharpie led me into a comfortable room and sent for some refreshment. He seemed very surprised to see me. “I thought you were due to arrive next week” he said, “I’d no idea you were coming today.”

Evelyn Westwood, ATS, Calcutta, Early 1945

 

(source: A8425299 An Account Of Life In The ATS (Part Two) at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Christopher Hale)

 

Left behind by the departing Germans

You have probably heard of Dr. E. Schaefer, a German who spent mid-summer 1938 to July 1939 in Sikkim and Tibet. We allowed him to employ as interpreter a Sikkim subject of Nepalese extraction, Kaiser Bahadur Thapa, who was a Junior clerk . -. Schaefer professed a passionate affection for the young man and made great efforts to obtain permission for him to proceed to Germany at the expense of the German government... In my letter of 14 July 1939 Kaiser was told that he should report to duty to the Assistant Engineer, Sikkim as soon as his duty with Dr. S terminated. He failed to do so, and we are glad not to have him back in Sikkim ... I suggested that the Calcutta Police should be asked to keep an eye on him.

(source: letter from Sikkim govt. addressed to the Commissioner of Police in Calcutta In Christopher Hale: Himmler’s Crusade. London: Bantam, 2003)

 (COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Christopher Hale)

 

To Calcutta the long way round

My Colonel suggested that I apply for a commission and I had orders to attend an Officer Training School in Calcutta. I flew out from Imphal airstrip and landed in the Arakan. Here I had to change planes but it was unable to take off and I had to get out quick. Another plane then took me to Madras, it was full of high ranking officers and me! Then I got a lift to Bangalore but had to be the navigator. I stayed at my old unit for a couple of days R and R, and then had a train journey to join the OTS. The course was for Indians as well as Europeans; the mess there was really nice. The course was for about 6 months and I enjoyed it immensely, learning field craft and tactics etc. Whilst I was there I taught several people to drive.

Douglas Maule, Army, Calcutta, mid 1940s

 

(source: A6486690 What a Lovely War at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

I decided to visit the infamous “Black Hole of Calcutta”

With our time up at Penang, we were ordered back to “Trinco”, and each watch was given seven days R and R at a rest camp up in the hills at Byatalawa, calling at Kandy on the way. Back in “Trinco”, the ship prepared to sail on a “show the flag” mission to Calcutta. On the way we called in at Stewart Sound to show we had no hard feelings and to have a look at the armament that caused us such trouble. We were unlucky, it appears that the powers that be didn’t like their ships knocked about so they sent the “Queen Elizabeth” a battleship to administer a spanking. The battery was wiped out with one broadside.

Carrying on with our journey I was surprised to find that Calcutta was a hundred or so miles inland up the River Hoogly. We arrived and tied up at Calcutta and looked forward to some time ashore. Our stay at Calcutta lasted about seven days. I can’t say it was the nicest place I’ve been to, but it was different, with sacred cows wandering all round the streets and getting in everyone’s way. The Bazaars were exciting with the bartering going on and we took the opportunity to spend our meagre pay on a few souvenirs. Before we left Calcutta, I decided to visit the infamous “Black Hole of Calcutta”. I walked down the main street “Chowringee Street” for about two miles to get there. It turned out to be a small square whitewashed building about twelve feet square. This then was the place of history, where over a hundred British people were packed to suffocate and die during the Indian Mutiny.

Leaving Calcutta, we made our way back to “Trinco”. On arrival we waited to find out our future, as all kinds of rumours had been started. Finally we were told the “Volage” with the rest of the flotilla, would be sailing back to the UK. But certain members of the crew would be drafted ashore to be replaced by ratings whose time was up. It was very sad to be saying farewell tot he unlucky ones, shipmates through all we had been through, but I was cheered by the thought that I was on my way home.

Leslie Atkinson, Royal Navy"H.M.S. Volage", Calcutta, 1945

 

(source: A3021779 Serving on "H.M.S. Volage" in the East Indies Fleet 1944 - 45 by Leslie Atkinson Edited at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

With 30 Trucks overland to Calcutta

My job was to collect thirty snub-nosed 15cwt Chevrolet trucks, manufactured in Canada but assembled in Bombay and to deliver them to Calcutta. We had no mobile phones or other talkie talkie apparatus to get in touch with each driver. I did have the support of another officer who travelled in a 3 tonner plus a regular army Lance Sergeant -allegedly a motor mechanic -whose solution to most problems was to hit it with a hammer! ! 1 myself had a jeep and driver.

The road across India on the map is a prominent red line -misnamed the 'Grand Trunk Road' -because after about ten miles of metalled surface out of Bombay it descended into a dirt track. Each vehicle stirred up a cloud of dust which needed 100 yards to settle; so with each vehicle needing at least 100 yards behind the other, our convoy occupied a minimum of three thousand yards or about two miles.

The question of control was something of a problem; and I finally resolved it- or attempted to resolve it- by requiring that the relief driver (two drivers per truck) should keep the vehicle behind in his sights, and if he could not see it he was to stop'.

Inevitably, one of the dopey relief drivers would nod off or forget to check; and sometimes instead of two miles, we occupied nearer 20 before we could get the convoy together again.

One day I let the L/Sgt lead the convoy, which after a while came to a stop in the middle of a village with the leaves of the 'Bashas' - straw houses - scraping the sides of the trucks. I forced my way to the front and found a bar across the road where the surface had just been rebuilt with mud and water and was drying out.

I demanded from the foreman that the bar be removed and ordered our convoy to go over- amid loud protestations from the foreman.

Soon after it became clear that the road was almost none existent; I then saw a charabang grinding its way towards us with the inevitable people on the roof, on the bonnet, or hanging outside.

I asked if anyone spoke English and was this the road to Calcutta? 'Oh Sahib you have come the wrong way -the proper road is about ten mlles back'.

There was nothing for it but to turn the convoy round, make sure all engines were firing, blow the whistle and back we went. We got there just as the road building gang had repaired the damage caused when we first had driven over it.

I reckon to this day that that Foreman has neyer either forgotten or forgiven us!

We averaged about 100 miles per day and finally reached our destination after about 13 days on the road.

Frank L. Ffoulkes, Army, Calcutta, 1942

 

(source: A3699778 War Service' An Unusual Experience' Part 1 at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

It all seemed chaotic - such is war

Yes — on my way back to Ceylon, to a unit of Force 136 located at a base near Panadura, south of Colombo. Preparations were being made to invade Maylasia and this time everything seemed well organised. I was given a small B2 suitcase wireless set, a revolver, a watch (which I used for years). I was taught how to use plastic explosive to blow up railway lines and how to look after myself in the jungle. A RAF officer and myself were of a small group of people who were to parachute into the jungle just north of Singapore prior to the invasion of the main forces by sea. All was prepared, we were actually at the RAF airfield in central Ceylon ready to go, when the whole operation was called off. The Atom bombs had been dropped on Japan and the Japanese had surrended. There was no need for us to go. We celebrated VJ day in Colombo and that night there was a party on the base. It seemed strange that all our troubles were over. I imagined I would spend a few weeks, maybe months, having a long holiday in Ceylon before being sent home to England. It was likely that married men would be sent home first.

But no, it was not to be. I was ordered back to Hyderabad immediately — and by air too! We flew up the west coast of India, dropped in at Madras and across India to the airport at Hyderabad. I had just arrived in my hut. I had sorted out all my dirty shirts and clothes and sent them to the dhobi — the Indian laundry man. Urgent call — report to the commander. Yes I was on my way again — next morning at 0400 hours I flew to Dum Dum airport near Calcutta to join up with a RAF doctor and we were both to parachute into Java to assist with the prisoners of war being released from the prison camps there.

It seemed to be well planned but it turned out the opposite. I could not locate this RAF doctor anywhere in Calcutta, no one seemed to know where he was or what had happened to him. I spent two or three weeks in Calcutta searching and seeking alternative instructions. It all seemed chaotic - such is war.

I used to wander around Calcutta. It was quite unbelievable, the squalor and misery in which many people lived. You will have heard of the work Mother Teresa has done there in the years just gone by.

There was nothing to do but wait, the war was over and troops were gradually being returned to Britain. I think it was in the autumn of 1945 when I was told that I was to come home. Not by troopship this time but by Liberator bomber. I went to Poona and came home via Lydia in what was then Palestine. It was about a 9-hour flight from Poona to Palestine which was not very comfortable because the bomber had just been fitted out with seats to carry passengers. We spent three days in Palestine and I went to Tel Aviv. There was soon to be war again here. But off we flew again to North Africa, then Istres in France and home to England over the White Cliffs of Dover. We were due to land in Wiltshire but because of fog we were diverted to Waterbeach in Cambridgeshire. We were given some new kit at Bourn nearby and home for a fortnight’s leave.

Rowland William Button - also known as Alfie Button, Royal Air Force, Calcutta, 1945

 

(source: A7495860 Rowland William Button's War Story - Chapter 5 - End of Story at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

The long way to Calcutta

My marching orders

14 May 1945: Five days ago, I received my marching orders! Five days have been spent feverishly packing, unpacking and then re-packing, until at long last all my goods and chattels have found a home.

I arrived here, at ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service) Transit Camp, London, at 4pm. Forthwith, I was issued with a mug and cutlery, and went down to tea. This is worthy of note since it acted rather like a plunge into the Serpentine on Christmas morning. It simply yelled at one: ‘You’re in the army now!’ We messed (quite literally) with the other ranks, without plates on which to place the crumbs of bread. It was Army Tea — enough said.

Exactly 92 steps to bed

Shortly afterwards, I was issued with bedding, which I learnt rapidly that I had to drag up six floors — 92 steps to be exact — to my room. The latter proved to be quite nice and quite compact including wash basin. Pip Davis (from Australia) shared the room with me. She is rather nice, the don’t-give-a-damn type, and would make two of me.

I seemed to become attached to Felicity mostly, and we went out together that night. Her father came from Tipperary (Ireland), so I guess that seals the knot. My bed is hard, very hard, but I’ll sleep no doubt! If I can’t, I shall count ATS — there are enough of ’em here. And so to bed.

A hectic schedule

15 May: Yesterday was hectic! We spent the morning at the India Office, receiving respirators, tin hats, water bottles, identity papers etc. Thence to British Red Cross Society HQ to see Mrs Young (our C-in-C Transit).

After returning to the depot to deposit our new accessories and having climbed the 97 steps to our rooms, we decided on lunch — but not as supplied in depot.

Spit, polish and hard beds

The afternoon grew more and more warm, until we almost fainted from fatigue in the attempt at finishing our vitae shopping. Tea had to be omitted, despite our desperate need, as parade was held at 5.30pm. Spit and polish was the order of the day since Dame Beryl Oliver arrived to inspect and address us. We were subsequently presented with a load of ‘comforts’.

It was 7.30pm when the ceremony came to an end. We had been standing in rank for two hours. After which, in order to deposit our comforts, we had to climb those wretched stairs again.

Later, I went to Ealing — home — for a couple of hours and arrived back more than fit for bed at 10.30pm. I don’t think I have ever been so tired in my life. We rise at 6.30am, which is really such a pleasure as the beds are so hard. We ache in every muscle.

Supper and a show

16 May: Today has been more pleasant since our time was our own, apart from parades. In the morning, we shopped. Two o’clock parade was excused, so Felicity and I went to see the Variety Show at the Victoria Palace. It was good in parts only. Six o’clock parade was a bit tiresome, but we survived it.

Tonight, Felicity and I, after many unsuccessful attempts at finding some grub, ended up at the Nuffield Club, where we suppered. We also danced there and made the acquaintance of a sergeant of the Intelligence Corps, who hailed from Berlin.

He was a Jew or perhaps just a political enemy of the Nazi Party who, through friends in the British Embassy, had found his way to England. His family were taken to a concentration camp — such as Belsen — where they had all died. He was well educated and extremely interesting. At the moment, he is writing a book on his experiences. Also, he has travelled most of the globe, so perhaps his name, Peter Benedix, is worthy of note.

Meeting Tommy Handley

17 May: Today has been very amusing and exciting. This morning we shopped a little and then decided to charge Broadcasting House, where we were successful in obtaining passes to see ‘ITMA’. We enjoyed the show immensely.

Afterwards we went on the stage and were thrilled not only to speak to Tommy Handley but also get an autographed photo. We also spoke to Jack Train and Charlie Shadwell.

At HQ in the afternoon, a party was given in our honour by the selection committee. Those present included Lady Limerick, Dame Beryl Oliver, Mrs Prentice and Major General Bradley. It was very interesting, but oh! so very prim and proper.

Emlyn Williams brightens the day

Friday, 18 May: Another day has passed, and we are so disappointed as our advance luggage has not gone yet. Bad, very bad, as living in London is so expensive.

Felicity and I saw the Emlyn Williams show that night and enjoyed it. Otherwise, life was not very interesting.

Security silence

Saturday, 19 May: At first, this looked as if it was going to be another day of uncertainty, but during the morning the buzz got round that we were to move off tonight. At 2pm security silence was imposed, and we were confined indoors.

During the afternoon, we packed up and prepared for our night journey by having 40 winks. After a substantial meal and collecting a very generous food pack, we assembled in the main hall with bag and baggage. Two covered wagons arrived to collect us at 10pm, and we waved farewell to our ATS hostesses.

St Pancras was very drab and cold at 11pm, when we boarded the troop train. Everyone was in high spirits and not a little excited. After much backchat, we settled down for the night as best we could.

Applying our war paint

Sunday, 20 May: A night of fitful snoozing passed quite quickly, and we found ourselves nearing Liverpool as dawn broke. We applied our war paint and struggled with our equipment and finally alighted from the train shortly after 7am.

We were taken the fairly short distance to the docks by special buses. We felt deeply for our heavily laden brothers — the tommies — as they marched along. Then, suddenly, we saw our ship. The big moment had come. It is the Queen of Bermuda, but, of course, devoid of its peacetime glamour.

Letter writing in the smoke room

We boarded after much signing of papers and handing in of cameras, and were conducted to our cabins. We are four in a cabin, and mine consists of Miss Bostock (our consul member), Ray Aitken, Cecil Aitcheson and me.

It grieves me that Felicity can not be with us, but nevertheless I am very happy. The rest of the day was boring — frightfully boring! We sat in the officers’ smoke room and wrote letters and talked, mostly. Personnel were coming aboard all day, and we looked in danger of being overcrowded. Everyone retired to bed early.

General orders and boat drill

Monday, 21 May: Seven thirty did not seem too early to arise this morning. We breakfasted at 7.45am, and after tidying our cabins we met in the children’s and women’s room for general orders etc. Then boat drill, which took most of the morning.

Lunch, first sitting, is at noon and dinner at 6pm. We are awfully well fed. The reserved, shy atmosphere prevailed all day, but on the whole it was more enjoyable. We retired at 11pm.

Moving along with a sing-a-long

Tuesday, 22 May: Today, we moved down the Mersey a bit to await the rest of the convoy. An aircraft carrier passed us, much to my joy. No idea what it was! [At this date, Alan, her husband, was on board the carrier Implacable as a pilot with 828 Squadron, which was on active duty in the Pacific.]

Tonight, the air that prevailed was suddenly broken by the sole effort of an RAF officer, who played popular tunes on the smoke-room piano, and so, a sing-a-long began. Felicity, Ray, Cecil and I played Monopoly with some RE or Royal Engineers officers.

And so to bed.

Dorothy Lamour and The Fleet’s In

Wednesday, 23 May: We moved into our place in the convoy and also further out to sea. In the afternoon, we basked in the sunshine on the sun deck.

We had our first cinema show tonight. The programme was The Fleet’s In, starring Dorothy Lamour. After the show, everyone played tombola, at which I won £2 7s 6d (£2.37p)! We are sailing tonight — yippee.

Attack of gastro-enteritis

Thursday, 24 May: Boat drill as usual this morning, but although the sea was beautifully calm, it was bitterly cold.

In the afternoon, I succumbed to gastro-enteritis, which has been playing havoc with our girls. I was seen by the SMO or Senior Medical Officer and put on a concentrated dose of sulphaguanidine. In all, I had 50 tablets in 24 hours.

Being confined to bed was no great hardship under the circumstances. I had plenty of sleep.

On deck and on the mend

Friday, 25 May: Doc arrived at the fantastic hour of 8.15am to see me, and I was pleased to report that my complaint was mending rapidly. My one desire was to get some air, and I eventually persuaded him to allow me up in the afternoon.

It was such a relief to get on deck just before tea. I felt somewhat dizzy at first, but that soon wore off. Later in the evening, we played cards and followed it up with play-reading. Despite my intentions, it was 11pm before I hit the hay.

Sunbathing, partying and dancing

Saturday. 26 May: The morning passed quickly, and, apart from a letter or two, there was nothing to show for it. We spent the afternoon lying on the sun deck, but there was little sun! However, it was pleasantly warm.

Cecil and I were invited to a cocktail party given by the MO. We enjoyed ourselves a lot and met the chief officer, who gave us a lot of gen. This was followed by a flick called The Glass Key, starring Veronica Lake, which everyone agreed was a pretty poor show.

A dance was in progress when we arrived back in the smoke room, and we joined in until 23:00hrs. A breath of cool air on the deck rounded off the day, and we retired at 23:10.

A promising start

Sunday, 27 May: This promised to be a glorious day right from the start. Our cabin became a hive of industry in the morning as there was no ship’s inspection. Felicity and I had gone to Communion at 7.30am, and immediately after breakfast we went along to the barber’s shop to have our hair washed. The shop was really a surprise — very modern, spick and span.

We then did our washing — only stockings etc., as we have a laundry run by the RAOC (Royal Army Ordnance Corps) Unit on board. Needless to say, this is a boon.

Lazing on deck and hymn singing

The afternoon was spent lazing in the sun on deck. The sea was a beautiful blue and the sky almost cloudless. A welcome swell caused an occasional splash of spray to sweep over the deck. I got quite a nice spot of sunburn on my arms. During the afternoon, we watched one ship sail away with two escorts bound for the Cape. I must say I felt envious of them.

The evening was spent in the smoke room, chatting. Community hymn singing was conducted on the sun deck aft. This was followed by a talk on Gibraltar given over the Tannoy. There was the most heavenly moon and starry sky over calm waters as we paced the deck before turning in.

Everyone for themselves

Monday, 28 May: We hopped out of bed this morning at 6am and went on deck to see Gib as we passed. We sailed nearer the African coast than the Rock. The latter was about five miles off the port side and not as impressive as we’d expected.

Low clouds hung over the coastline as dawn broke. Two lights flickered on and off as we came nearer, and, eventually, signals were exchanged between shore and convoy.

The convoy split up. Our escorts and four ships sailed into the harbour. Two others headed off for Italy, and we sailed off on our journey, gradually pulling away from the remnants of the convoy. From now on, it is everyone for themselves.

Sharks or porpoise in the Med

The north African coast was a beautiful sight. A pale, full moon hung over the hills, and a wisp of cloud crossed the highest peak. The white dwellings stood out neatly on the hills, and Suda Bay looked delightfully peaceful tucked away in the valley beneath. Dawn was slowly breaking, and we gradually realised that this magnificence was real and not a painting.

We slipped away from the coastline and once more were surrounded by sea. The blue Med at last, and as we went we saw a school of fish on the starboard side. Could they be sharks!! Or porpoise? Nobody seemed to know. We saw quite a bit of the north African coast during the day. It was quite clear too.

Dancing the night away

The Women’s Services invited the other ranks to a dance in the evening. This was held in the cinema, and the temperature was well over 100 degrees.

There were at least 20 men to each girl. The floor was very overcrowded, and we danced for three hours before a break. However, we all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

‘Horse racing’ and Urdu

Tuesday, 29 May: It was very warm today, and we blossomed forth in civilian clothes. In the afternoon, ‘horse racing’ was held on the sun deck. Cecil and I won four races out of six. We were seven shillings (35p) in pocket.

After that, I had my first Urdu lesson. I think I shall know a few words before I reach India. We passed Cape B this afternoon, but apart from the history element it attracted little attention.

Tonight, we went to see the film Sun Valley Serenade, starring Sonja Heine. It was most refreshing.

Within sight of Africa

Wednesday, 30 May: The greater part of the morning was spent learning Urdu and writing letters. We also got cable forms to fill in.

Just about lunchtime, we passed Malta. The island was some distance away, and weather conditions were anything but kind. I was most disappointed about this. We caught glimpses of the north African coast during the evening.

Première of the Bermuda Follies

Thursday, 31 May: As we passed the various points of interest, e.g. Derna, the ex-Desert Rats took great pride in pointing them out to us. The coastline was quite clear.

There was bags of sunshine in the afternoon, and I had a little more tan as a result. The première of the Bermuda Follies was shown to the troops this afternoon, and it seems to be going down well!

Rolling into lunch

Friday, 1 June: Right from the start, it was a glorious day. At 11am, Ray, Cecil, Felicity and I were taken to the chief engineer’s cabin, where we had coffee and biscuits.

We were then taken on a tour of the ship. We all enjoyed this immensely, despite the heat. It was most interesting seeing the machinery that gave us fresh water in the cabins etc. The chief then gave us cocktails, and so we rolled into lunch.

Approaching Port Said

The afternoon consisted of sunbathing, Urdu and PT. The excitement soared and so did the various buzzes as we neared Port Said. Everyone asked the same questions, i.e. ‘How long would we stay and will we get ashore?’

I was extremely lucky in meeting a Lieutenant Wier, who had been two years in the Middle East. He had field glasses, which he kindly let me monopolise, as he pointed out the parts of interest as we came into port. The sun was sinking fast, in fact it was there one minute and had disappeared beyond the horizon the next.

Docking to whistles and cheers

The PS lighthouse was just beginning to function, and all the lights of the town gradually sprang into being as we docked at 8.30pm. Needless to say, the first soldiers we saw were Yanks! The natives lined the shore, and whistled and cheered us.

Night life was just beginning. Dancing was in full swing at the casino and other town clubs. We passed along by the British and American HQs, and all and sundry turned out to see us.

First of all, the Egyptian Police boat came alongside, and one or two officials came aboard. A water barge replaced our fresh-water supply, and some supplies were taken on.

Novelty of neon lighting

The MO, some of the crew and some army officials went ashore, but we had to be content with just looking on. The neon lighting was a novelty, even if it did advertise the things that we could not have.

Community singing by us kept the air alive. Some natives came alongside to sell odds and ends to the lower-deck troops.

With many regrets, we went to bed knowing that unless we arose at the crack of dawn we should not see Port Said for many months. Happy thoughts!

First sight of Suez Canal

Saturday, 2 June: I was on deck at 07:15hrs this morning and saw the Suez Canal for the first time. At first, I was disappointed, but as the day progressed, so we passed many points of interest, and some of the scenery was captivating. It seems that the vegetation is at its best just now. At Ferry Point, particularly, the shrubs were a glorious blaze of colour.

There is a British garrison here, and some officers and men had been stationed there. Noel Weir, having been one of them, took great pride in pointing out all the places of interest during the day. The garrison gave us a rousing cheer, but they, like every other soldier, sailor or airman we passed, insisted on telling us that we were ‘going in the wrong direction’, which was becoming monotonous.

The native villages were most interesting, and I enjoyed a close-up through Noel’s glasses. We saw many camels, bison and the usual domestic animals, but I don’t think I have ever seen anything like the cows — they were just skin and bone.

Feluccas and war ships

All day we passed feluccas — native boats with towering sails. The large ones, usually containing huge rocks, were drawn by three or so natives. I can’t think how they managed to tow such loads in the heat. The general impression given by natives was of a very low mentality.

We passed No.1 General Hospital during the morning. It was a little distance inshore, but with the glasses one could even see patients basking in the sun. Two sisters were swimming in the canal as we passed — very pretty and tanned they looked too!

In the afternoon, we passed on to Ismailia through the lakes in the direction of Suez. In one lake, we saw two Italian warships .permanently anchored there. There was a large aerodrome inshore, and we saw a Sunderland flying boat anchor off its base.

Many of the houses were of French design, and at the entrance to the big lake there was a very inviting French swimming club. We saw lots of war craft, mostly small types, i.e. LCTs etc., moored around the lake.

At anchorage outside Suez

It was terrifically warm in the afternoon — but that is only a taste of things to come! At 6pm, we passed through Suez, and what little I saw of it was not very exciting.

I was due at the first sitting for dinner, and when we went on deck afterwards, we were nearing our anchorage a mile or so outside Suez. Numerous officials came aboard, including two Wren officers, all on duty, and all with much fuss and confusion, since locals were handling their craft.

It really was funny to watch. The locals fought over positions alongside, and there was much gabble and tooting of horns. They also squabbled over cigarettes and coins thrown over the side of the ship by the troops.

Entering the Red Sea

We did not come on deck again until about 10pm. We attended the Bermuda Follies which was very good indeed, considering it was entirely amateur.

It was a heavenly night, marred only by the smell of diesel oil etc., which we were taking on. The sky was a mass of stars, and Suez just a huge cluster of little lights on the starboard side.

And so, tomorrow, we move east from Suez and really feel far from home. We enter the Red Sea and really feel hot.

Hairwashing, sun bathing and a concert

Sunday, 3 June: As usual Sunday morning was devoted to hair washing etc. It was very hot in our cabins, which was useful for drying purposes only. The afternoon was spent basking on the sun deck. The sun was unbearable, and everyone clamoured for shade.

I was annoyed at missing the symphony concert in the cinema as ‘Moonlight Sonata’, ‘Dance of the Hours’ and other popular records were played. In the evening, we all went to see Sensations of 1945, which was quite enjoyable. A stroll on deck rounds off the day.

Mopping off, no make up

Monday, 4 June: Today, we had our own first taste of heat. It far exceeded anything I had ever imagined. The terrific heat is accompanied by a clammy atmosphere, and one just streams perspiration all the while.

All attempts at keeping make up on were abandoned, and one spent one’s time mopping off. Our clothes were changed dozens of times per day, and moisture could be wrung from them. This is supposed to be the worst time of the year in the Red Sea — and I can believe it!

Cooling off in the fridge rooms

PT had to be abandoned, and all my efforts at learning Urdu failed. We had a lecture on tropical medicine on the sun deck at 2pm, which was more of a Turkish bath than anything else. One VAD, named Squires, is seriously ill with heat exhaustion as a result.

Cecil, Felicity and I went over to the galleys afterwards and saw the fridge rooms. They were gloriously cool, but I think we felt worse when we came up again.

In the evening, I was invited to the chief officer’s cocktail party, which I enjoyed. The rest of the evening was spent cooling off on deck.

Turkey and plum pudding at 129˚F

Tuesday, 5 June: I slept between two towels last night, and the perspiration rolled off. I had very little sleep. This morning, we had a lecture on pay in India, and I got numerous forms to fill in.

The lecture on tropical diseases this afternoon lasted for an hour and a half but was held on the port side, where it was definitely cooler. The temperature in the dining room was 129 ˚F tonight. Perhaps, it was the chef’s idea of a white Xmas, because turkey and plum pudding were served.

Blanket bathing Squires

Wednesday, 6 June: Today, we passed Aden, and the air was just as hot and clammy. I tried to learn Urdu in the morning, but my brain just would not respond. Met the second engineer, who gave me a huge Jaffa orange straight from the fridge! So cool!

In the afternoon, Cecil, Felicity and I had tea with the chief engineer, Mr Mallory — delicious cakes!!

I took a turn of duty this evening, i.e. nursing Squire. I had to blanket bath her, and, as she was on an upper bunk, it was extremely difficult. The cabin temp. was 96 degrees, and, with working, the perspiration rolled off me to such an extent that Cecil had constantly to mop my face.

After this duty, I was invited to the chief officer’s cabin for supper. We had cold turkey and ham with salad, straight from the icebox. I thoroughly enjoyed the evening.

Black-out restrictions and flying fish

Thursday, 7 June: Black-out restrictions are once again in force, and so the heat of our cabin increased last night — consequently had little sleep.

Had tea and cocktails with the chief officer. Heard that we had been in contact with a submarine and so will not reach India until Sunday.

Entire party sat on deck in the evening drinking lemonade and watching the flying fish. Felicity and I spent an awful hour in the baggage room packing today. Also we had TT inoculations.

Deck races, tea and cocktails

Friday, 8 June: Nothing interesting happened today. In the afternoon, we had deck races — the Bermuda Stakes. I backed two winners and was jockey for Captain Crutchley in two races. Won one that brought him in £4 12s 6d (£4.63p). Had tea on deck with Capt. Mudd.

Cocktails in the chief’s cabin with Bill (FANYs) and David (Lt RNVR). Do you have a glossary that explains terms such as this?] After dinner the party moved up to the boat deck, where we spent a gloriously cool evening.

Lack of party spirit

Saturday, 9 June: Slept much better last night. There are numerous rumours floating around about when we shall arrive in Bombay.

Had iced coffee with chief in the morning. Lazed on deck until tea-time — had tea with chief and, also, cocktails before dinner.

This evening was spent with Cecil, David and Felicity on deck. Didn’t enjoy it really as it may be our last night on board, and nobody seemed to feel the party spirit except me.

Sailing into Bombay

Sunday, 10 June: At 9.30 this morning we sailed into Bombay. I stood on the deck and had a wonderful view. Mike (Maj. Graham), who has been in India for nine years, was with me and pointed out the Gateway of India — which looks a little like Marble Arch — and also the Taj Hotel, which looked splendid.

There were plenty of ships in the harbour, including the yacht that Barbara Hutton sold to the navy for one dollar. We eventually docked at 10am with much fuss and bother as usual. Numerous officials came aboard, and our sick were taken off by ambulance.

The rest of the morning was spent in exchanging money, filling in forms and hanging over the deck rail. To me, India looks quite interesting, and I am sure its people will never cease to fascinate me.

Meeting a wealthy Bombay merchant

We are not disembarking until tomorrow, and we are not being allowed ashore. Some of the men are going today. All drafts had mail except the VADs, and are we choked.

I had tea with chief and later cocktails, where I met one of Bombay’s richest shipping merchants, who always comes to see the chief and the captain. He wore the two most magnificent rings I have ever seen. As we heard today that we were going straight to Poona tomorrow, I asked his views on it, and I hope he is right.

The chief gave a party in the evening, and at it I met Lieutenant Commander Taylor (Tiny!), who is from the shore establishment. He came aboard as the ship docked. At 1am, there was a tea party on the sun-deck cabins and finally got to bed at 1.30am.

Sad farewells

Monday, 11 June: Reveille for the troops sounded at 2.30am, so we had one hour’s sleep. We arose at 5am and got our last packing done. Breakfasted at 7am and prepared to disembark at 8.30am.

I never felt so much like weeping for many moons. We said farewell to all our friends and marched ashore at last. Two hospital trains were pulled into the dock siding and waiting to take the QAs [Queen Alexandra’s Royal Naval Nursing Service] and VADs off to Poona.

While we were waiting for it to leave at 10.30 am, we went to a nearby café and had drinks and weighed ourselves. I found I had nearly lost a stone! Lots of our friends disembarked soon afterwards, and they came to wave us off.

Part II: India

Monday, 11 June: The train left Bombay at 10.30am and was most comfortable. We each had an upholstered bunk with plenty of pillows, which we did appreciate after so little sleep last night.

Tea was served by the medical orderlies on board, and we had baskets of pineapples and bananas sent us by the St John Ambulance Brigade (SJAB), Bombay, which thrilled us no end.

The journey was very interesting. We sat gazing at the parched native countryside, but as the train climbed its way up into the hills, there was plenty of vegetation and some pretty flowering shrubs.

Arrival in Poona

Somewhat exhausted, we arrived at Poona at 5pm feeling hot and sticky. Trucks were waiting and took us to 126 IBGH. This we found to resemble a scattered army camp, consisting of stone dormitory-like houses. Each housed about 30 people. We shared B.16 with QAs, which complicated matters a bit at times.

We had tea, which was more than welcome, at 6pm, after which we found our luggage and had bearers take it to our respective beds. There is absolutely no wardrobe or drawer space left for VADs, so we are forced to live in suitcases a while longer.

After dinner, at about 8.30pm, we prepared to lay our weary bones to rest. There were all sorts of animal life crawling about, but we eventually fell into a peaceful sleep, feeling comparatively safe under our mossie nets.

Weird nocturnal occurrences

Tuesday, 12 June: This morning brought news of weird happenings in the dead of night. Bostock found a black hand under her pillow, and her clock is missing.

We had a welcome speech from the Brigadier I/C Hosp., followed by a health talk given by the SMO (Senior Medical Officer) in the morning.

Still feeling a bit fed up with life, Ray, Cecil, Felicity and I went to Poona on a shopping expedition. We bought white sandals with a bag to match and an evening frock.

In the evening, a party of us went to the dance given by the hospital’s military police and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We retired to bed shortly after midnight.

Cheered by our first mail

Wednesday, 13 June: Had a security talk this morning. Miss Corsair, our liaison officer, arrived this evening, and we had our first mail. It brought me nine letters, which have changed my outlook on life very considerably.

In the evening, we went to a dance at one of the clubs in Poona. The officers of the company had organised it for the men just back from Burma. We enjoyed ourselves.

Possible joint posting

Thursday, 14 June: Today, we had TAB all over again. It had no effect on me this time either, but several of our girls are not feeling so good.

We had individual interviews with Miss Corsair. She seemed quite pleased with my past history. It seems highly probable that Felicity and I will be posted together.

This evening, we went to the sergeants’ mess (sappers and miners, Kirkee) and had quite an enjoyable time.

Lucky break

Friday, 15 June: Went on duty in MI room. We had volunteered and were seen by matron this morning. As usual, I struck lucky in getting a soft job. Horsby is my opposite number, and we do not go on duty until 8.45am. (Those on ward duty go on at 8am.)

There is very little to do in the MI room, but we set about spring-cleaning it. The general organisation is hopeless. There is a Lieutenant Corporal in charge, an ex-prisoner (Italian), and an Indian sweeper, which, together with the MO or medical officer (Lieutenant Leis), comprises the staff.

Language difficulties

We do a sort out of the patients’ department — our patients being either general staff or locals employed in the hospital. It is very often very difficult to diagnose the ailments of the latter owing to the language difficulties.

This evening, I was supposed to go to a party at the Sussex Regiment’s sergeants’ mess, but, just as we were about to leave, Jumbo (Major Hall) and Ian (Captain Robertson) arrived up from Kalyan. Felicity and I were most surprised, but it was good to see a friendly face from the ship again. We all went out to dinner at Nanking restaurant.

Success at the races

Saturday, 16 June: We were all vaccinated once more this morning. Jumbo fetched me after lunch, and we went to the races — the Kirkee Stakes, held at Poona — and we had a very successful afternoon.

In the evening, we had dinner at the Poona Hotel and then went across to the Poona Club to dance. We met Pip, Felicity, Ron and many others from the ship, and a happy time was had by all.

Bags of joy at posting

Sunday, 17 June: The morning brought quite a few patients into our dept, and I was kept quite busy.

Had another half day today and went with Jumbo to the Lady Colville Club for woman of the services, where we lazed in the lap of luxury all afternoon and ended with tea. Ian and co. joined us later. In the evening, we all went to the Poona Club.

Felicity and I learned today that we are being posted to Entally together — bags of joy all round.

Less work and more play

Sunday, 24 June: It has been a week since I last scrawled herein, and that week seems to have passed swiftly. As far as work was concerned, I seem to have done little, and what I did manage was done in the mornings!

By way of a change, I have not been dancing lately. Life has mainly consisted of dinner parties, and one night I went to see Greer Garson in Mrs Parkington at one of the local cinemas. The governor of Bombay attended the performance, and there was bags of trumpet tooting and saluting.

Yesterday evening, Ana invited me to a dinner party at the EWI given by General Iverliss. All his high staff officials were present. One major was Irish, so I didn’t feel too lost. I quite enjoyed the evening.

Today Major Graham, who taught me Urdu on board the ship, came to see me. He is stationed about 15 miles from Poona. We had dinner at the Turf Club this evening, which was most enjoyable. And so another week has ended.

Quite a week

Sunday, 1 July: This week was quite interesting, so I’ll relate at length.

Monday — More inoculations and vaccinations. Had the day off in view of our posting on Wednesday. We shopped mainly for food for our trip. Did a spot of charpoy bashing in the afternoon. Felicity and I went to the farewell party in our honour at the OT (occupational therapy) centre.

Tuesday — In the morning, I finished making my S. bag at the OT centre — did most of Felicity’s too! In the afternoon, we all prepared for the ball at Government House.

No coach and magic wand

The edge was taken off our excitement by the arrival of two army lorries to fetch us. No coach and magic wand for Cinderella!! On arrival, we put the finishing touches to our hair and faces, and went downstairs to the magnificent ballroom complete with chandeliers and panel mirrors.

From the ballroom, thro’ magnificent doors bearing the coat of arms, one passed on to a terrace, where lots of tables and chairs were arranged, and one could sit overlooking the moonlit gardens.

Just before his Excellency arrived, we formed up on the left of the doors leading to the terrace and the officers of the Sussex, Gloucester, SW Border and Signals regiments formed up on the right. When His Ex. entered, and the King was played, we were formally presented.

It was a most enjoyable evening, but midnight soon arrived. Afterwards, some of the officers invited us to a party at their mess, and off we went by jeep. Eventually, we arrived home at 2.30am. As we had to finish our packing and be at breakfast at 5pm, we decided it was not worth going to bed.

Aboard the Bombay Mail

Wednesday — We left 126 IBGH at 6am and arrived bag and baggage at Poona station 15 minutes later. We eventually boarded the Bombay Mail, which took us as far as Kalyan, where we changed on to the Forces Special to Calcutta.

Needless to say we were very sleepy, but we — Felicity and I — shared a four-bunk compartment with two QAs (also going to Calcutta) and two lieutenant colonels as far as the Dulallah homeward-bound transit camp. It was in the afternoon, when they left us, that we had our first nap.

As a matter of fact, we slept most of the next two days, apart from wayside stops, where we had meals laid on for the entire mass of officers. We saw some very colourful birds on the journey and also saw coconuts growing.

Calcutta at last

Friday — We should have awakened to find ourselves in Calcutta this morning. In fact we were some 150 miles away — owing to an engine being derailed on the line ahead of us — and had to make a detour.

At 4pm we arrived at Hourah Station, Calcutta. It was just as filthy as any other station, with natives strewn all over the place. We had to sit on our luggage in their midst for one solid hour before the ambulance arrived to convey us to the hospital.

Henrietta Susan Isabella Burness, V.A.D., Calcutta, 14th May-16th July1945

 

(source: A1940870 Life in the VAD (Voluntary Aid Detachment), 1945at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

 

Escaping the war to India

In the summer of 1939, my father was on home leave from Calcutta, where he was employed as Superintendent Engineer with the Bengal Assam Steamship Company. About ten days prior to 3rd September 1939, he was recalled and was ordered to report to a train leaving Dundee - destination unknown. He sailed on the first convoy out of the U.K. and was actually at sea when war was declared.

In the spring of 1940, when the U.K. was being heavily bombed, he arranged for my mother, brother and me to go out to Calcutta. We sailed on the SS Orion from Liverpool in July 1940. The vessel was armed and carried depth charges. It was actually a troopship and we were among the few civilians. There were also several Burmese nurses on board. Not long at sea, we developed engine troubles and returned to Glasgow. While docked there in the Clyde, we witnessed the bombing of the city.

Then we set sail again, this time without a convoy, round the north of Ireland and then down to the Atlantic to Freetown for supplies. Small boats came alongside selling their wares. It was all so strange. Then it was on to Cape Town, where we stayed for a few days. I well remember that beautiful city. One party from the ship took in an excursion to Table Mountain. I went on a coach trip along the coast. The beaches were beautiful.

The next stop was Bombay, the voyage taking about six weeks. Then we went on to Calcutta by train. This was a slow journey, taking about three days and two nights. We had a compartment to ourselves and everything was so hot and dirty.

Mary Anderson (nee Hezmalhalch), schoolgirl, Liverpool to Calcutta, Summer 1940

 

(source: A2640601 A Schoolgirl’s War in the Far East at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

The Race to Barrackpore

From there followed a 5 day train journey to Calcutta in East Bengal where, on arrival, at 12 noon, we had the opportunity to inspect the platform at Howrah station, which, without food or water, we did until 12 midnight. Much to our relief, we piled into coaches for the final lap of our journey. The name Barrackpore rattled around the coach. This cantonment was 14 miles from Calcutta and we had been warned not to encourage the Indian drivers to race each other. Needless to say, that is exactly what happened. Fortunately, at that time of the early morning, there was not much traffic on the roads. When we arrived at our destination it was agreed that, although the other driver had won, he had cheated as he had driven on the road instead of the grass.

At last, we thought, a hearty meal and then a good sleep. We were quickly disillusioned as the N.C.O informed us that we shouldn’t have been there at all and we would have to drive back to “Cal” as it became affectionately known. Following about one and a half hours dozing in the coach at Barrackpore, it was about 4 in the morning when we finally arrived at our correct destination to be greeted by some not so friendly cooks who had been awakened to give some breakfast.

Jim Homewood, Royal Air Force, Calcutta, May 1942

 

(source: A5760281 My War - Part 3 at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

Through India by troop train

Then we were put on a troop train, and headed east to Calcutta. This took seven days. The train was an old fashioned troop train, with wooden slatted seats, back to back down the middle and a single row around the side. The seats could be raised, and underneath there were built in rifle rakes. We had to keep our rifles there so that we were sitting or sleeping on them, because we were warned about the “Wogs” being expert thieves, and would do anything to get hold of an army rifle.

Traveling on that train was an experience on its own. There was no water, there was a toilet in the middle of the carriage, it was barely a metre square, no water, just a hole in the floor straight through to the middle of the track. There were two blocks one each side of the hole about the size of a size ten boot. The method was, stand on the blocks squat, and line up with the hole, hope for the best, and let go. If you missed, tough luck - you just had to clean up with the toilet paper, {army form blank}

We ate and slept and done our ablutions in that compartment. We used to draw our rations every day from the supply carriage. Usually it was just corned beef and hard biscuits, some tea, and a couple of tins of condensed milk. The only way we could have a cup of tea, was to wait for the train to stop, and send someone up to engine with the three gallon tea bucket, and ask the driver for some boiling water from the engine.

Sometimes when they stopped for water we would run up and stand under the water pipe and have a quick shower without bothering to take our clothes off. It didn’t matter about getting them wet, because they were already wet with perspiration, so they had a wash as well.

It was stinking hot in the train, we used to climb up on to the roof of the carriage for a cool off. Sleeping at night was a bit rough because the train was literally lousy, under the wooden slats of the seats there were thousands of Bugs which used to have a feast off us every night. Most of us were covered with red spots from bites.

Sometimes during the day we were able to buy fresh fruit from the natives, Pineapples, Bananas, Mangoes, and Oranges, these were very cheap, but we had to be very careful to avoid catching a decease we had to wash the fruit in Permanganate of Potash solution, this was a bit hard due to the shortage of water.

Stan Martin, soldier, train to Calcutta, early 1940s

 

(source: A1982955 Stan Martin's WW2 story at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

we would provide the Air defence for Calcutta

 In October 1940 we were ordered to our base in Coventry just in time for the massive air raids on the city.

In January 1942 we were posted overseas, originally bound for Singapore, but it fell whilst we were on our way. We landed in Durban, but Monty had enough artillery so we headed for Colombo, but were diverted to Bombay. It was decided we would provide the Air defence for Calcutta on the other side of India.

We were there until march 1944. by then the Japs were close to invading India, so all white, mechanised units were disbanded and we were converted to infantry. We became Sherwood Foresters and after eight weeks training most of the 204 and 293 Batteries were transferred to the East Yorks Regt. However, the Foresters offered about a dozen of us who had done well in training a job as instructors.

Alan Gray, 293rd (Birmingham) Battery Royal Artillery, Calcutta, 1942-44

 

(source: A4120291 Birmingham's Forgotten Regiment at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

 

To Calcutta by Flying Boat

My Mother and I had passages booked on a Bibby line ship due to sail for Rangoon at the end of September 1939 i.e. after the summer holidays and my brother John had returned to Malvern College. Needless to say the outbreak of war with Germany on 3rd. September knocked these plans on the head. Most of the Bibby Lines ships were requisitioned immediately for wartime duties e.g. trooping and hospital ships. Our passages were cancelled and we were eventually offered passages on one of the two remaining Bibby ships, namely M.V. Oxfordshire due to sail late in 1939, but she was sunk in the Mediterranean on her way home to the UK (during the first few weeks of the war shipping losses were announced in the news broadcasts, but that was soon stopped)

We also had another problem in that Malvern College buildings were requisitioned and the College had to move lock stock and barrel to Blenheim Palace! A lot of emergency work had to be carried out there to make it habitable for two hundred plus boys therefore their return to school was delayed until well into October.

No progress was made on the passage front until, in desperation, Thos. Cook asked if Mother and I would be prepared to fly out to Rangoon as a sea passage was virtually out of the question. We agreed what we would have to do this but the first passage we were offered was for February 1940. However this did mean that Mum, John and I were able to spend Christmas together. John came home from school with Chicken pox which he managed to pass on to me, so it was not the jolliest of times!

Now for the journey itself…..

February 11th 1940

My mother and I left the small hotel in Worthing where we had been staying since before Christmas to travel to Poole Harbour for an over night stay at The Haven Hotel preparatory to leaving next day by Imperial Airways Flying boat for the journey to Rangoon, Burma, which was to take at least four days.

The winter of 1939/40 had been very, very cold, so cold indeed that for some days the Flying Boats scheduled to leave both for Australia (our route) and South Africa had been frozen in the harbour.

One of the least pleasant preliminaries for our flight was that we all had to be weighed and as a rather self-conscious seventeen year old, this filled me with dread! However the very nice man doing the job said, “We have had people who have topped the scale” followed by, “It is all in kilos so no one knows what that means!” That comforted me!

{NB: In those days not much was measured in the metric scale}

February 12th 1940

We were up quite early and after breakfast waited around in the lounge ready for the summons to join the launch to go out to the Flying Boat (there was a jetty right outside the hotel which was used for this purpose)

However, I think it was about mid-morning, we were told that due to bad weather conditions our departure was postponed until the next day! So Mum and I took a bus into Bournemouth after lunch to have a look round and have tea in one of the big department stores (either Bobby’s or Beales, I cannot remember which) then it was back to Poole for another comfortable night in the luxurious hotel,

February 13th 1940.

We learned at breakfast or soon afterwards that we were to be away that morning. Off we set in the launch to board the aircraft. Mum and I were really very nervous as neither of us had been near an aircraft before let alone flown in one.

As far as I can remember there were only about seventeen passengers as, the Captain told us later, the plane was carrying a heavy load of Mail. Amongst the passengers was a young Maharajah, his mother, his Political Officer and his wife (Col. And Mrs. Affleck I think) and a young RAF Officer, a test pilot flying to Karachi (more of him later). Mrs. Affleck could see that Mummy and I were somewhat apprehensive and very kindly came to talk to us and reassure us that all would be well.

With a great roar the engines started up and we were off at great speed across the water and eventually a smooth take off into the air, I loved it!! Incidentally the plane was named, ”Co-ee” all the planes on the Australian route had Aboriginal names as far as I know.

The windows of the plane were ‘whited out’ until we were well clear of any Naval or Military installations, rather excessive security we thought! We flew down the Channel and across the Channel Islands and Brittany a more westerly course than usual, I think because it was wartime.

The weather became very rough, the plane rising and falling with monotonous regularity, a horrible sensation and it was not long before Mum (amongst others) began to feel ill and were ill! I felt pretty grim too. We eventually landed at Biscarosse south of Bordeaux on the lake there for refuelling. We were usually taken off the plane for this purpose but I cannot recall it happening here. Off again and none of us too happy except for our test pilot who kept walking past us saying “How are the world’s best air travellers?” He knew it was our first ever flight and we looked at him with loathing!! The route took us past Toulouse and on to the lake at Marisnane outside Marseilles.

It was getting dark when we came into land, the wind was blowing hard and the waves on the lake were quite high. We hit the water and it seemed to rush past the windows for ages before we came to a halt, it took a half to three quarters of an hour to moor the plane on to the buoy, Normally a matter of minutes and we tossed about all this time and I was eventually sea-sick!

At last the order came to disembark we went to the exit to find the launch bobbing up and down like a cork. Imperial Airways staff just shouted, “When we say jump, JUMP!” and this we bravely did. It was freezing cold, borne out by the icicles hanging from the Jetty when we went ashore and into the customs shed, a sorry looking lot we were.

We saw the Captain there (name Harrington) looking rather white and drawn and he told us later that he had only had one other landing as bad as that in the whole of his experience! So how was that for first time air travellers?

Eventually we set off by bus for the Hotel Splendide in Marseilles and were we glad to get there! We recovered in an hour or so and managed to eat some dinner before retiring to our room for an early night. I found the linen sheets rather scratchy but did sleep reasonably well!

FEBRUARY 14th 1940

After breakfast we left by bus for Marisnane to continue our journey, Mum and I felt that we would gladly not board the plane again, if there had been any other option open to us! We all sat around in a rather ordinary café for a bit and then were told that there was a problem with the re-fuelling launch and we would not be leaving until after lunch, our destination an over night stop in Rome.

We ate sparingly of lunch and eventually went out to the launch and then on to the plane, it was still freezing cold

It started to snow and we all realised that the heating system in the plane was not working. All the metal fittings inside the plane became frosted and the glass of water I had on my table turned to ice! The planes carried fur lined foot muffs and blankets for this eventuality and we all sat shrouded in blankets endeavouring to keep warm. Also these aircraft, being very wide-bodied, allowed one to get up and walk about and there was a rail down one side where you could lean and look out of the windows. You were able to see quite a lot. These aircraft were not pressurised and therefore could not fly very high.

We were much relieved to land at Lake Bracciano some miles outside Rome. Mum by this time was pretty exhausted and our RAF friend kindly bought her a whisky to put in her tea we were all served before leaving for Rome. Whisky was a most expensive item in Mussolini’s Italy at this time, so it was very generous and kind of the young man.

Rome looked lovely with all the lights on in the city, of course this was before Italy came into the war, and we had come from blacked out Britain. We were accommodated in a very grand hotel and after a short rest and a change of clothes we went down to dinner.

I forgot to mention that when we left Poole another flight took off bound for Durban and we met up with the passengers from that plane in the evenings. Amongst them were a niece with her uncle and aunt. She was a little older than me. After the meal they invited me to join them on a tour of the sights of Rome, Mum was too tired to come, So off we went and visited the Coliseum the Forum, St. Peter’s and the Victor Emmanuel Memorial all were splendidly floodlit.

We got back to the Hotel to find a very anxious Mum, after we had left she realised she didn’t really know these people very well and wondered if she would see me again!!

FEBRUARY 15th 1940

After breakfast we went back to Lake Bracciano and after some delay we went on to the plane for a short flight to Brindisi for re-fuelling. There was some technical problem here I seem to remember, and we eventually set off again but only made it as far as Corfu where we were destined to stay the night. This was another unscheduled stop over as was Rome!

Again it was dark and we were taken by bus to a small hotel in a hilly and wooded area and when we were shown to our room it had a glorious log fire burning in the grate, it was so welcoming, we were delighted. It was a very small hotel and as far as I recall there were no other guests apart from the air travellers.

Anyway, after a wash and change Mum and I went down to join the others in the bar for a drink before dinner. Mum wished to reciprocate the kindness of our RAF friend on our arrival in Rome the evening before, so we asked him what he would like and he said when he was in a foreign country he liked to taste the local beverages and as we were in Greece he would have an Ouzo. This was duly ordered and Mum wondered whether it would be very expensive but it turned out to be the equivalent of two pence (old currency of course) so she said he could have as many as he liked, which I think he did!!

FEBRUARY 16th 1940

We left Corfu during the morning en route to Alexandria, which in normal peace time conditions would have been the first over-night stop. Our RAF friend definitely the worse for wear and rather sorry for himself, so we had our revenge for his taunts on the first day of our journey! I think we came down once for re-fuelling at Heraklion, Cyprus, before landing at Alexandria. We stayed in a rather grand hotel with splendidly attired Egyptian staff everywhere. Apart from going down to dinner and having a good night’s sleep I don’t remember much else about it. We arrived and left in the dark so we did not see much of the city.

FEBRUARY 17th 1940

This proved to be a rather interesting day as the first re-fuelling stop after leaving Alexandria was at the Sea of Galilee. We were taken off the plane and went ashore for a brief walk-about and a luscious glass of Jaffa orange juice then back to the plane again and another re-fuelling stop at Lake Habbaniyah (not too far from Baghdad) It was a complete desert landscape here and when we went ashore the ground was covered with small pieces of a cheap material which, we were told, was Mica used at that time in the manufacture of gramophone records I believe.

Up and away again for our overnight stop at Basra. It was beginning to feel much warmer than when we left England.

FEBRUARY 18th 1940

Up very early and took off at 4 a.m. First stop was Bahrain where we took on some more passengers and of course more fuel!

We then flew across the Arabian Sea en route to Karachi. I was standing at the rail looking out at the dun coloured coastline of Baluchistan, and following the rather nice little route map which had been issued with our travel documents, when Captain Harrington came through for a chat with the passengers saw me and said “Well Jose where do you think we are?” I pointed to a spot and said “There“ and he said, “You are not far out” and we both laughed.

We duly arrived at Karachi in the early evening and stayed at a hotel (The Carlton) which certainly had memories for Mum. (She had married Dad in Karachi on 7th November 1921 having travelled to India all by herself, she was married straight off the ship and knew no one at her wedding except Dad and she hadn’t seen him for over a year!!) Some friends from their early days in North West India (now Pakistan) happened to be stationed in Karachi so Mum gave them a ring and they came round and took us out for a look around.

It was in this hotel that I shouted in alarm when I pulled the plug out after a bath and the water swirled around the tiled area. I thought I had flooded the place but there was in fact a plinth to stop the water going all over the floor and it eventually ran out through a hole in the wall and down a pipe, I assume! This was a common system of drainage in the old fashioned parts of India, dating from the even older tin tub days, I was also to experience this again in one or two remote spots in Burma.

FEBRUARY 19th 1940.

We left fairly early this morning, in a different plane named “Coorong” This was to be the last full day of flying, there were at least two re-fuelling stops, one on Lake Udaipur where we were taken for a trip in the launch whilst the re-fuelling was done. In the middle of the lake was a vast palace belonging to a Maharajah it was indeed a spectacular sight. My recollection about the second stop is rather hazy but looking at the distances and likely areas of water it could have been Lake Waidham.

Jose Johnson ,schoolboy England to Calcutta, 1940

 

(source: A3335816 My Journey to Burma 1940 by Flying Boat at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

 

 

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First Days in the City

 

 

 

 

 

        _____Pictures of 1940s Calcutta_________________________

 

 

 

 

 

        _____Contemporary Records of or about 1940s Calcutta___

 

 

First impressions of Calcutta

Indian - en route

October 14, 1944

Dearest Reva:

This morning's note failed to mention the bathroom facilities offered at our apartment house. Now this is India, of course, and one shouldn't expect too much, but the darn float on the bowel or stool wouldn't work and every time it filled you had to leave whatever you were doing and dash to release it. Some of the boys were remiss in their duty and consequently Sturcke and I darned near swam while trying to shave.

Tsk. Life in a plumberless land. To top it all, the proprietor blithely put on his hat and set off for the races, so for all I know, the darn beds have now floated away.

Our afternoon's program (now 6:00 P.M.) consisted of dinner at the Red Cross, a rickshaw journey to Newmarket, return to the RC, and then we went on the Red Cross conducted tour of the City. I'll send a printed copy of the places visited and write at greater length later about it. Suffice now to say that we were at the burning ghats, where we saw the burning pyres. Four or five had burned out and I could see nothing but ashes. Another was practically finished, but the pelvic bone was still there, but rapidly disintegrating. Another had just been started, and was roaring fiercely as we approached. The body was about 2/3's of the way up in the pyre, with his head and feet jutting out from the corded wood. They tell me that when the body burns through, the pyre, which is constructed over a shallow pit, collapses inward, carrying everything with it. Attendants then pile the unburned wood and body parts together and continue this process until, presto! no body. (No pun intended, either.)

Those ghats aroused my ghoulish interest, remember my research on torture?, but no one wanted to stay - so I had to leave, too. The Red Cross girl and her girl companion didn't even go into the burning section. There was a body of a girl (or boy) awaiting burning. It had a dirty white-brown rag thrown over it. Probably that of a beggar child.

This is a nasty letter, and time that I bring it to a close. I'll write on more tonight, if I have an opportunity. I have just had a nice chat (about the classification errors in the Army) with two musicians, Max Cline (grad. Cincinnati Conservatory of Music) and Hustes, who are with a touring troupe in this area.

Much love, darlin',

Dick

Richard Beard, US Army Lieutenant Psychologist with 142 US military hospital. Calcutta, October 14, 1944

(Source: page 75 of Elaine Pinkerton (ed.): “From Calcutta With Love: The World War II Letters of Richard and Reva Beard” Lubbock: Texas Tech University Press, 2002 / Reproduced by courtesy of Texas Tech University Press)

 

 

 

 

        _____Memories of 1940s Calcutta_________________________

 

YOUR FIRST IMPRESSIONS

INDIA is a strange, colorful land, one that relatively few Americans have seen. Customs, dress, language, color, religious beliefs and political institutions will have little resemblance to anything you have known in America. If you exercise a normal amount of curiosity you'll learn much that is fascinating; much that will enable you to begin stories to your children or grandchildren in later years, "Now, when I was in India ..."

Probably the first thing you will notice is the strangeness of Indian dress. After you've experienced the Indian sun you'll realize that the costume worn by Indian men and women results from centuries of living in a climate one American soldier described as "too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry."

  As you see more of the Indian people, you will encounter many customs that are strange and new to Americans. A large number of them have grown out of the religions of the country and are therefore most sacred. You should respect them as you would wish your own beliefs and ways of living respected by strangers.

  Naturally, there are a number of obstacles to establishing friendly relations with the people of India - differences of language, custom, and religion. Furthermore, Indian soldiers and people are apt to be shy and reversed toward foreigners. But they will respond to friendly treatment. If you do nothing to wound their pride or insult their religious beliefs, you will have little difficulty in winning their respect and good will.

 

(source: “A Pocket Guide to India” Special Service Division, Army Service Forces, United States Army. War and Navy Departments Washington D.C [early 1940s]:  at: http://cbi-theater-2.home.comcast.net/booklet/guide-to-india.html)

 

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

First impressions

Our squadron had been at Gushkara for about a month before any of us could get passes to visit Calcutta. Three friends and I qualified for three-day passes, probably late in July, 1944.

We caught the train at Guskara with the destination being Howrah. We left Gushkara shortly after noon one day and had an interesting train ride through the Bengal countryside. Our eyes were wide with amazement for every mile brought us new sights, sounds and smells. Please realize I was a young man from a rural, midwestern small town, so everything I was seeing, I found myself making comparisons with home. I had travelled extensively in the US, but what I was seeing in India -- well, it was different.

At home, we had power machines for most farming activities. In Bengal, I was seeing my first water buffalo pulling plows in rice paddies. Yes, things were really different and I soaked it all up.

The train ride with carriages (coaches, we call them) having compartments, was all new and different. We had to learn how to use the carriage "water closets," too.

Our train arrived at Howrah Station after dark that night. Just imagine, four American young men from more or less rural regions, finding themselves in the dark in a town as strange to us as was Calcutta. We engaged a gharry (horse drawn passenger transport) and asked the driver to take us to the Red Cross. He understood and we clopped away from the station.

Moving slowly, we saw strange (to us) sights of small food sellers with tiny charcoal burners, saw dimly lighted hallways and building interiors. We were not worried, though, for it was all so new and fascinating -- so different from anything any of us had previously experienced.

Arriving at the Red Cross, we found all their beds for transients were filled. They called a military base out at DumDum and a truck was dispatched to meet us at the Red Cross, much later that night. It finally arrived about 1 AM and took us out to a tent camp with Indian-style rope beds. (Are those called "charpoys?") By that time, anything to sleep on looked like a king's couch.

The next morning, we had our first daylight sight of Calcutta. I guess the best way to describe our feelings would be to say it was, at the same time both fascinating and awesome. Throngs of people all dressed so differently from any people we knew at home, all speaking a strange language. Signs in Bengali, strange transport vehicles, strange sounds and smells, yet so many people would return our smiles. We felt welcome.

A truck again drove us back to the Red Cross where we were able to get a bunk for the next two nights we were to be in town.

My first rickshaw ride was from the Red Cross to the New Market. We had heard about it so were anxious to go there first. I'll never forget watching the puller as he jogged along, ringing his hand bell with nearly every step. His sweat-soaked shirt fluttered in the breeze and he, in fairly good English, described some of the sights we were seeing. He knew we were newcomers into town and seemed proud to be showing off his city, such as it was. I understand there was a disasterous fire at the New Market some time ago, but that it is now back in full operation. I'm glad, for Calcutta just wouldn't be Calcutta without the New Market. In fact, right in front of me as I write are two nicely carved, sandalwood images, one of Kali and the other of, I think, Krishna, both mementos of the New Market. They are on a shelf just above my eye level right now, great reminders of a city that tended to grow on those of us who were fortunate enough to get to know it quite personally.

We learned to use the Calcutta trams, found our way by foot down to Strand Road from the Esplanade, looked in on Nimtolla Ghat, marveled at Howrah Bridge, visited the site of the "Black Hole," and watched river traffic. To we young fellows from the States, what we were seeing and experiencing was literally awsome. Instead of a military operation, we felt we were being priviledged to be taking a world tour of interesting spots at US government expense. At the time, the "hurting war" was nowhere near Calcutta, but was over across the bay in central Burma.

Glenn Hensley, Photography Technician with US Army Airforce, Summer 1944

(source: a series of E-Mail interviews with Glenn Hensley between 12th June 2001 and 28th August 2001)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced by permission of Glenn Hensley)

 

Calcutta was bloomin awful

Journeying from Delhi to Calcutta, went across the Ganges at Allahabad, also saw Banares and remembers the size of this. Finally arrived at Calcutta and stayed there for a week. It took three weeks to journey from Lahore to the squadron. On arrival in Calcutta, didn't know where the squadron were. They were billeted in an old school house which rat infested, they ran around at night. Calcutta was bloomin awful, the poorest of the poor were there. The beggars on the streets lived out their lives under corrugated iron on the pavement. Some had their arms and legs bent the wrong way deliberately for begging.

'I saw the cast system in action and didn't like it, bloomin awful'

Saw a traffic policeman walloped a rickshaw walla holding his rickshaw up at the time, for stepping forward when the traffic was stopped at a junction. The rickshaw walla did nothing, they were used to being treated like nothing, he just picked himself up off the ground.

'Wherever you went it was Backshee Sahib’

Then there was the pimps chasing you to have a Bibi (woman/ girl). If you went in there you probably wouldn't come out alive or at least would get a dose.

Ernest Thomas Clifford, Royal Air Force, Calcutta, 1944

 

(source: A2615726 tom clifford - the war years 2 at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

Although this city is the next city to London

Well, once again we were stuck in another camp and waiting as before for someone to call our names out on parade. Daddy found out after the first parade which took place, that he would’nt be wanted till next day or even afterwards, so he put on some clean clothes and took a tram into Calcutta. Although this city is the next city to London, as I told you, it smells worse than anything you can imagine and is very much dirtier than Bombay. In fact so dirty was it in more senses than one, that more than three quarters of it was "out of bounds" to troops. Daddy got off the tram in the remaining quarter at a street called Chowringtree — this being the main street in Calcutta where all the big restaurants, clubs, banks and shops were situated; also here were several cinemas.

Leonard Charles Irvine, 4393843, Royal Air Force Flt Sgt Nav, Calcutta, 1945

 

(source: Leonard Charles Irvine "A LETTER TO MY SON" at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

it is another stinking city

13th April - I spend most of this day in Calcutta it is another stinking city, literally teeming with people and traffic, beggars and buck she wallahs by the thousands, shanty towns all over the place, any peice of open ground houses them, they even live on the traffic islands, this city has gone backward, the cow still roams at large, the inhabitants wash and bathe wherever there is water.

13th April - We departed by air from Calcutta bound for Delhi, my first time here and having a certain amount of free time I took the opportunity to go sight seeing, this was a pleasure for it was in my mind far superior to Calcutta. This city possesses some remarkable fine old buildings also plenty of open spaces but having said that it still has a fair share of poverty.

Henry Foster, Army, Calcutta, 13th April 1944

 

(source: A3734813 British Legion Pilgrimage at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

Calcutta was a much more squalid city than Bombay

Calcutta was a much more squalid city than Bombay with many beggars and people dying on the streets during the night to be picked up by the 'death cart' in the morning. The streets teemed with troops of all nationalities: Yanks, Chinese, Malays, Africans you name them they were there.

Kenneth Rawlinson, Sergeant 'Cinema Projectionist' AKS (Army Kinema Section), later to become CKS (Combined Kinema Section), Calcutta, 1945

 

(source: A7659723 A Willing Volunteer Part 3 at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

It looked alright till we went ashore later.

We arrived at Calcutta a couple of weeks later via the Indian Ocean. It looked alright till we went ashore later. We were pestered with mosquitoes and fireflies. The fireflies flitted about like miniature neon lights (its their way of attracting a mate). But the mosquitoes were unbearable. I had a touch of malaria after and had to take tablets. I was amazed by the squalor and the pong. Everyone burnt coconut oil, rotten fruit and professional beggars lined the streets and you could not go a yard without being pestered by them. It seems there is a bloke in charge who took the money they had begged and gave them just a little back. But I was told he would see they had one meal a day.

While I was in Egypt I bought a leather case. It was a beaut. So while I was in Calcutta I bought two pairs of silk pyjamas, one for our Mabel and one for Dot. Much later on I was to fill it with souvenirs from all over the place, like king ebony elephants from Ceylon (now Sri Lanka). They were beauties, but now they are at the bottom of the Indian Ocean off Ceylon.

William Young, Royal Navy, Calcutta, 1941

 

(source: A8117895 Bill's memories-Let's go to sea. Chapter 2 at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

Calcutta, which I was beginning to call my second home

I went back to 221 Group Headquarters in Calcutta back to work on Wireless Telegraphy, a comparatively cushy job with lush surroundings and good food with a good bed to sleep on at night, we called them "charpoys", an Indian description for bed. Even the good beds were nothing like the ones we had back home, they were usually made of bamboo with jute twine as body support. We had the luxury here of having white sheets and always with the inevitable mosquito net to be slung over the bed supports. I was determined to make the best of it here in Calcutta, which I was beginning to call my second home, visiting the cinema, the various service clubs, watching cricket matches at the Eden Gardens cricket ground, watching the Bengalis playing excellent football in their bare feet on the "Maidan", bargaining with locals in the Bazaars, etc., etc.

Cliford Wood, Royal Air Force wireless operator, Calcutta, 1943-44

 

(source: A4254103 AN RAF WIRELESS OPERATOR ON THE BURMA FRONT (Part 3 of 3) at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

 

We landed on the Hooghli River

We eventually reached Calcutta and landed on the Hooghli River. Driving into the Great Eastern Hotel in the city centre was a tremendous shock to me. The swarming humanity and their incredible poverty were upsetting and I remember saying to mother that if Rangoon was like this I would go home on the next plane! An idle hope I fear.

When we arrived at the hotel there was a cablegram from Dad which read, “Up brave hearts, it’s the last lap” which amused and cheered us up. Also he had been in touch with a business acquaintance in Calcutta, a Mr. Cowan who came round to see us and insisted on us dining with him and his wife at the Saturday Club (little did I know then that in three to four years time the Club would become a very familiar haunt until we left for the U.K. in May 1945).

We had a pleasant evening with the Cowans and in the course of conversation Mr. C. mentioned that he knew that Dad was very fond of celery (a delicacy not available in Burma but grown in the hills at Darjeeling, not too distant from Calcutta) He had arranged for a few sticks to be delivered to the hotel for us to take with us next day. “Fine “ we said until we got to our room to discover that far from being a few sticks there were two enormous bundles of twelve sticks each complete with full foliage! Mum said we could not take these on the plane without incurring a huge excess baggage charge, so what were we to do? We had seen Capt. Harrington in the dining room so we decided to seek his advice. He thought about it and then said, “If you will agree to let me take one bundle on to our staff in Bangkok, who don’t often see celery that will be fine and the other condition is that Jose goes ashore at Rangoon with a bunch of celery as a bouquet, “what a tease he was! Terms were agreed and after a bit more chat Mum and I retired to our room.

FEBRUARY 20th 1940

This morning we had another bus ride through the crowded streets to the River and then away on the last lap of the journey. We landed at Akyab (now called Sittwa) on the N.W. coast of Burma for re-fuelling and then S. to Rangoon where we landed on the Rangoon River (part of the Irrawaddy Delta). There were some very fine views of the Schwe Dagon Pagoda as we circled in for our landing. Out came the Launch with Daddy aboard plus sundry officials and we disembarked complete with celery!

The steamy heat did not strike me at first but did a little later on! Rangoon was quite a contrast to Calcutta as the people round the port area seemed far more relaxed and easy; one did not see anything like the poverty only too obvious in Calcutta.

Jose Johnson ,schoolboy, England to Rangoon, 1940

 

(source: A3335816 My Journey to Burma 1940 by Flying Boat at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

 

the occasional street cremations

We had a few 48hr passes whilst at Digri and we took the opportunity to visit the only place of interest, the city of Calcutta.

It was a large overcrowded city, but very interesting, Chowrinjee Road was the focal point, a long wide road with all the large shops, hotels and restaurants. The only problem was that in the evening you had to step over the sleeping bodies of the destitute, beggars and homeless on the pavements. The natives however were friendlier than those in Karachi. Hotel accommodation was clean and quite comfortable, and English food was always available. We also saw the occasional street cremations, which took place away from the main roads.

Arthur Thompson, Royal Air Force, Calcutta, 1946

 

(source: A1982711 Through Pilot Training to Action With 463 and 617 Squadrons at Waddington at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

 

A British view of a Calcutta Street

Imagine walking along, say, Dalton Road and seeing, say, the Spencer brothers—one sitting crosslegged in the midst of his wares in a loincloth and a beautiful turban, the other .sitting right in the middle of the pavement bathing himself (with his clothes on') at one of the wells of water that spring up at intervals all the way along. Then next door probably a soothsayer or phrenologist with all sorts of weirdlooking objects hanging outside—tortoise shells, dead things, goodness know; what! Then, say, Mr Bell lying in his .string bed fast asleep in the street—or sitting there stitching away and machining in the midst of naked little urchins—boys, yelling little coloured birds. Rickshaws being drawn by men, gharries by horses. Dead cats and rats lying about all over the place! Such a bewildering conglomera tion—it is indescribable!

Laura Lidrell, atcress. Calcutta1944
(source: Geoffrey Kendal: The Shakespeare Wallah. London: Sidgick & Jackson, 1986 )

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Geoffrey Kendal)

 

First impressions: Calcutta

16 July 1945: My first impressions of Calcutta were rather mixed. Besides having to pass through some of the worst areas, the inside of an ambulance is not the best place from which to view any city.

The hospital — Entally — was a pleasant surprise to us. We drove in through the bold iron gates, on either side of which extended high stone walls that encompass the entire hospital. We were taken past the main hospital buildings, which looked very imposing and consisted of white stone buildings with green shutters, rather on French lines — not surprising since it was originally a convent.

Watching fireflies on the veranda

Finally, we arrived at our mess. This indeed is very pleasant. It is a two-storey building with upper balcony, and my room is over the dining room. The floors are highly polished stone.

Matron takes a keen interest in the garden, and just now, with the rain, it is at its best. The lawns are beautifully green. In fact, apart from a few tropical palm trees mixed in with other trees, and of course the everlasting heat, with the roses in bloom, hollyhocks and gladioli one could easily imagine it was England. There’s the same noisy rooks, chattering sparrows, planes overhead and the railway near by.

What I most like doing is sitting in the cool of the evening (after a most satisfying dinner) on the veranda — watching the fireflies, flit to and fro in the dark like lighted matches, while the crickets sing and the little lizards dart around catching flies.

Henrietta Susan Isabella Burness, V.A.D., Calcutta, 16th July1945

 

(source: A1940870 Life in the VAD (Voluntary Aid Detachment), 1945at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

Eventually we arrived at Calcutta

Eventually we arrived at Calcutta, and were billeted in a large Military Camp. It was a treat to be able to walk around again, and have a shower and clean up and get our clothes washed. Can you imagine how dirty we were after seven days on that stinking train? Our clothes were stiff and dirty, after being soaked in sweat, and dust for seven days, so the cold showers and the Bamboo Huts of the camp were considered to be a bit of a luxury.

Stan Martin, soldier, Calcutta, early 1940s

 

(source: A1982955 Stan Martin's WW2 story at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

like a nest of black ants

We were there for about a week. During this time we were able to explore quite a bit of Calcutta, and it was quite an experience for me. The place was absolutely swarming with people, like a nest of black ants, and there were thousands of beggars. Wherever we went it was Bakshees Sahib. Their deformities were enough to make one feel quite sick, but after a while we got used to it.

Stan Martin, soldier, Calcutta, early 1940s

 

(source: A1982955 Stan Martin's WW2 story at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

I was stationed at the nearby airfield called Dum Dum

Later I was sent to Calcutta in eastern India to help fight against the Japanese. The climate there is always very hot and humid — the town is poverty-ridden and the area was called the ‘arsehole of the world’. I was stationed at the nearby airfield called Dum Dum. I am told that is where the dum dum bullets were first made to suppress the Indian peasants when they dared to try and throw out the English soldiers who had invaded their country.

Jack Boswell, Royal Air Force, Calcutta, 1945

 

(source: A4050163 Smugglers or Spies ? at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

 

Calcutta Irritations

Calcutta March 26 [1950]

Always, in Calcutta, those irritations which are minor to me in other Indian cities become major. Then passionately I hate doors that stick and keys that won't work and having to wait twenty minutes for a telephone call which shouldn't take two minutes. And I hate the stupid taxi drivers'who never know where any address is, but pretend they do, so that you are lost and miss your appointment. And I hate the heat baking your brains and making you cross to simple people; God made so many of them in Calcutta you're cross all the time.

I hate rusty water in the bathtubs, and showers which dry up just after you have soaped your burning body. And idiot boys who make appointments for you with the boss, but forget to tell you the boss is coming to see you, not you to him. All because the poor boy can't speak proper English, and you can't blame him for that, can you? That makes it even worse.

But it isn't just the boy. I rage up and down the room under the unworkable electric fan, screaming silently to myself at Calcutta: the flies and the ugliness, the hopelessness, the lying, the cruelty, the dung and the dead on the streets! Then, exhausted, I collapse on the hard hotel bed and dream of brooks flowing among beds of mint and forget-me-nots, of strawberries ripening gently, of people who are kind in a way I understand. I don't understand Indians; they don't understand me. I'm tired of feeling guilty and seeing ugliness and despair, and of feeling like this.

I'm homesick.

 

Kalimpong March 27 [1950]

Well. Obviously, I should never go to Calcutta. It is the only place in India which I really cannot abide. I am always conscious there of the Bengali worship of Kali, goddess of destruction. It is a city suffused by the consciousness of death, of destruction, and of hatred.

I hate Calcutta because I feel most guilty there, guilty of completely losing my temper and making dreadful generalizations about India on the basis of one benighted province. I can well understand why the early bomb-tossing revolutionaries were almost all Bengalis; the atmosphere of Bengal made me want to toss bombs, too.

Margaret Parton, American foreign correspondent (New York Herald Tribune). Calcutta, 1950
(source page 48 of Margaret Parton: “The leaf and the flame.” London : Bodley Head, 1959.)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Margret Parton 1959)

 

I decided to visit the infamous “Black Hole of Calcutta”

With our time up at Penang, we were ordered back to “Trinco”, and each watch was given seven days R and R at a rest camp up in the hills at Byatalawa, calling at Kandy on the way. Back in “Trinco”, the ship prepared to sail on a “show the flag” mission to Calcutta. On the way we called in at Stewart Sound to show we had no hard feelings and to have a look at the armament that caused us such trouble. We were unlucky, it appears that the powers that be didn’t like their ships knocked about so they sent the “Queen Elizabeth” a battleship to administer a spanking. The battery was wiped out with one broadside.

Carrying on with our journey I was surprised to find that Calcutta was a hundred or so miles inland up the River Hoogly. We arrived and tied up at Calcutta and looked forward to some time ashore. Our stay at Calcutta lasted about seven days. I can’t say it was the nicest place I’ve been to, but it was different, with sacred cows wandering all round the streets and getting in everyone’s way. The Bazaars were exciting with the bartering going on and we took the opportunity to spend our meagre pay on a few souvenirs. Before we left Calcutta, I decided to visit the infamous “Black Hole of Calcutta”. I walked down the main street “Chowringee Street” for about two miles to get there. It turned out to be a small square whitewashed building about twelve feet square. This then was the place of history, where over a hundred British people were packed to suffocate and die during the Indian Mutiny.

Leaving Calcutta, we made our way back to “Trinco”. On arrival we waited to find out our future, as all kinds of rumours had been started. Finally we were told the “Volage” with the rest of the flotilla, would be sailing back to the UK. But certain members of the crew would be drafted ashore to be replaced by ratings whose time was up. It was very sad to be saying farewell tot he unlucky ones, shipmates through all we had been through, but I was cheered by the thought that I was on my way home.

Leslie Atkinson, Royal Navy"H.M.S. Volage", Calcutta, 1945

 

(source: A3021779 Serving on "H.M.S. Volage" in the East Indies Fleet 1944 - 45 by Leslie Atkinson Edited at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

there were some very attractive areas in Calcutta

I sailed away from the most exciting period of my life, an episode which had felt like a lifetime, and one which, hopefully would not. ever, be repeated. The few days it took to reach Calcutta were like a dream. And when we arrived in port, I had a few nights on the town before I had to leave for Ranchi to rejoin the regiment.

Calcutta was known by many appellations, the sweetest of which was 'the arsehole of the Far East'. Winston Churchill once visited, and when asked if he was glad that he had been, and why, he replied, 'Yes, indeed, I am very pleased that I did, for it means that I shall never have to go there again.' The origins of the city's name are obscure: some think it comes from the village of Kalikat, where Job Charnock opened his factory all those years ago; the Indians themselves believe it's from the city's Kali Temple.

In spite of Churchill's remarks, there were some very attractive areas in Calcutta - though the native quarters were deplorable and no person in his right mind would think of sight-seeing there. In the centre the British had built many fine buildings and statues during the last two centuries.

The residence of the Governor General, Lord Curzon, was one of the finest examples of British architecture: in 1805 he spent two million rupees to build a mansion in the likeness of his home in England. The six-acre site was, appropriately, located near the Strand. (The British left their marks with Strands and Malls and Barracks Roads all over the British Empire.)

Close to that work of art was St. John's Church - where Job Chamock is buried; both are just a stone's throw from the River Hoogly, and dose to Chowringhee. A few miles out from the city centre is Dum Dum, where, from 1783 to 1883, the Bengal Artillery had their headquarters before relocating to Meerut. The famous parade ground, the maidan. Was adjacent to the Strand, extending from St George's Road to the north to Babu Chat - almost two miles - and from the Strand eastwards at its widest point for a mile. Bounded by the Hoogly and Chowringhee, it was the cultural centre of the city, well known for its beauty and its officers' clubs. The beautiful Garden Reach, once renowned for its magnificent homes, sat close by Government House: it was a popular gathering-place for the mem-sahibs, who would dress in all their finery to discuss the gossip of the day. To the west of where the old fort was, at the new Fort William's St George's Gate, stood the statue of Lord Napier.

The new fort, with the river on one side, occupied almost two square miles; the excavation of the thirty-foot-deep moat that surrounded it contributed material for the building. The moat could readily be filled with water from the Hoogly; it had six gates with such romantic names as St George's, Plassey, Treasury, Calcutta, Chowringhee, and Water Gate, and it was never attacked successfully. In the centre of the complex was the church of St Peter's, built in 1828.

By the south-east corner of the maidan was the one mile, five furlongs race course. St Paul's Cathedral, built in 1847, with a spire two hundred feet high, stood at the extreme south-east of the maidan. King George once landed in Calcutta on the Hoogly, at the Strand, at the aptly named St George's dock. Further downstream was the memorial to the Indian Lascars of Assam and Bengal, who gave their lives in the First World War - there were monuments galore: the Gwalior Monument, in memory of those British soldiers who fell in the battles of 1843. In the Curzon Gardens, north of the maidan, the Ochterlony Monument, to commemorate Sir David Ochterlony, who won the Nepalese War in 1814. Across from the racetrack at the very north-east comer of the maidan, the Victoria memorial with its impressive Cenotaph: this magnificent stretch of land was steeped in history, both of the British Empire and of India.

William Pennington, Captain 134 Field Regiment Royal Artillery, Calcutta, Summer 1945

(source: page 376-377 of  William Pennington: Pick up you Parrots and Monkeys and fall in facing the boat. The life of a boy soldier in India. London: Cassell, 2003)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with William Pennington)

 

Calcutta used to have an English veneer

Kali apart, Calcutta used to have an English veneer but this had begun to crack. Its palatial buildings were peeling, sun-parched and mildewed: here and there a house with an eighteenth century portico was crumbling among bamboo shanties and teeming vegetation, grandiose anachronisms awaiting the brush of John Piper.

Harold Acton, RAF airforce officer. Calcutta, early 1940s.
(source: page 115 Harold Acton: More memoirs of an Aesthete. London Methuen, 1970)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Harold Acton)

 

I didn’t know where I was supposed to be

Calcutta!

I was lost, and this time the crux of the matter was that I didn’t know where I was supposed to be.

It was New Year’s Day, 1946. It was nearly midnight and I was alone, on foot, about a mile outside Calcutta on a silent forest road. That much I did know because I had just walked from the Excelsior Cinema, Chowringhee, in the centre of Calcutta.

How stupid can you get? said the voice of my father inside my head.

Rubbish, I said. It could have happened to anyone.

You mean, like the scissors?

I knew exactly what he meant. I was about six, then, and helping him cut the lawn. He asked me to get the scissors. Wondering about this I went to the kitchen and got the scissors. Then as I took them out of the drawer I understood. With these, you could trim the edge of grass that butted on to the fence because you could push the small point behind the tufts and snip them easily.

In the garden I knelt down by the fence and had a go. It was a good idea, but it was going to be a long job.

I jumped at his laugh behind and above me.

‘No-o! The scissors - you know, the clippers, the shears!’

Getting them from the shed I felt myself go hot with embarrassment but I told myself it could have happened to anyone.

This time I should have known better. That same afternoon, with two other RAF men, I had arrived in Calcutta. We had been picked up in a jeep from our Dakota aircraft at Dum Dum airfield north of the city.

My problems began at the moment of departure from the airfield. Had I kept my wits about me I would have noted that we crossed the River Hooghly via Howrah Bridge, turned on to the Barrackpore road and travelled about ten miles out to our unit in the wilds of a village called Bally.

But I did not keep my wits about me. My wits, as life was later to impress upon me, were not the sort you could keep on a lead.

As we were shown into the long hut we were told that a gharrie (in Service terms a covered Bedford 3-ton truck) would be doing a Liberty Run into Calcutta city in half an hour’s time. Would we like to see the sights? The gharrie would drop us and then, at ten o’clock in the evening, pick us up at the same spot to take us back to base.

We threw our bags on our beds, showered and changed and the three of us climbed up into the back of the gharrie. We wandered along Chowringhee and had an expensive meal at Firpo’s. I said I wanted to see the film at The Excelsior. They weren’t keen, so we split and arranged to meet a little before ten at the appointed spot.

The Excelsior was big, with red velvet seats and icy air-conditioning. After the film ended I went out into the blast of heat in Chowringhee and looked at my watch. It was five to ten.

At two minutes to ten I arrived at the meeting point. Neither the gharrie nor the other two men were to be seen. I waited for ten minutes. Then it became worrying. I called a taxi. The driver’s friendly Sikh face smiled broadly at me.

‘And you go to -?’

‘The RAF Station at,’ I said, and stopped. It was like walking into a glass door: I couldn’t tell him, and I didn’t immediately know why.

In the armed forces you get used to having your hand held whenever you move. Jeeps take you to railway stations, RAF Police Corporals point you to your train and more RAF Police wait for your arrival and get you to your transport which takes you to your new unit. So, instead of noting important things like names of places and serial numbers by which Air Ministry establishments tend to be known, you dwell dreamily on the scenery.

I had no notion of the name of the village to which I had been posted, the number of the RAF Unit, and certainly not the name of the road by which to reach it. And, beyond my twelve-fifty identity card, I had no papers on me to help. They were all lying on my bed somewhere in what is now Bangladesh.

The taxi driver’s eyes lit up.

‘Ah, you forget name?’ I nodded and he began listing military-sounding addresses, but I shook my head at each one. I knew I would have recognised it had he said it. Sikhs are not easily put off by western or any other oddities, but I could see that my taxi driver was beginning to sense that he was dealing with an oddity of quite another order. He left.

Then I had the solution. If there were as many military stations as he had revealed there would be military trucks speeding between them and the city. All I had to do was to choose one of the roads (I knew it had been a long, straight one) and walk along it, wave down anything that approached from behind me and give the driver any information I could think of. As I walked, I began to formulate sharp words of complaint to my so far unknown commanding officer about drivers who did not keep to their schedule.

I was half an hour along this road before anything hailable came. It was an American Air Force jeep, and it stopped

‘Well, Hi, there, fella. Wanna lift?’

I explained. The enormous engine idly crackled away and they shook their heads and drew on their cigars. Then one of them snapped his fingers.

‘Climb in,’ he said.

He had an idea. They would take me to their own unit and get their files out and phone around. This they did. They found my unit, rang it, then gave me a meal and a comfortable bed.

In the morning they gave me a breakfast, huge, hot and aromatic.

‘English breakfast, huh?’ said the white-aproned GI, putting it in front of me and surrounding me with sauces.

An hour later I stood to attention in front of my own C.O. at what I now knew was No 329 Maintenance Unit in the village of Bally, on the Barrackpore Road. He started with a run-down of the unit’s search activities from 10.30 the previous night. This was brisk and to the point. Then he gave me his own private opinion of my behaviour. To this he devoted more time. I decided not to complain about drivers.

Paul Wigmore, Royal Air Force , Calcutta, New Years Day 1946

 

(source: A2849484 Another Innocent Abroad Edited at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)

(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)

 

 

 

 

 

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