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An overcrowded city in a tropical climate, lack of
food, and a large transient population with a great deal of war-time and
political violence thrown in; Calcutta’s health situation was on the brink
during the 1940 and many of those who lived through those days had a tale to
tell bout it. Many medicines familiar to us today were not
available then and disease was much more frequent and more serious
problem.
Overpopulation, hunger
and a certain amount of carelessness amongst many newcomers led to further
worries on this front.
On the other hand
Calcutta had, for Indian standards, a well developed health system, which
merits description.
It is a city in which, from
Charnock's day to the present, civic consciousness and responsibility have
steadily developed. The evidence is before one. Leaving aside the great medical
institutions like the Presidency General Hospital, the Medical
College Group of Hospitals, The School of Tropical Medicine. The All-India Institute
of Hygiene and Public Health and numerous other centres of research and
treatment, the work of which is not only of national but international
importance, the city is equipped with a chain of hospitals, district
dispensaries, maternity homes and health-centres on a par with the best in the
world. Today, then: is not a citizen of Calcutta who need he without adequate
medical attention, entirely free of equal importance is the fact that, every
expectant mother in the city is assured of medical attention, from skilled
practitioners of her own sex.
The critic of 1780, describing Calcutta as an "undistinguished
mass of filth and corruption," could hardly have visualised that it would
one day be a city in which great medical institutions would conduct researches
of profound importance to the whole world; and where, at the other end of the
medical scale, several hospitals and charitable dispensaries would yearly
administer free treatment to millions of indigent patients.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
Once upon a time the European residents or Calcutta gathered together
yearly to congratulate one another on having escaped with their lives through
another season of pestilence. Today every citizen, whether he is of the East or
West, has just as much expectation of longevity in Calcutta, as he would have
anywhere else. It is not that Calcutta is a health resort, but its rapid
advancement in Medical Science, Sanitation and Health Culture, has brought the
town into line with the healthiest cities in the world.
In the cold weather the climate of Calcutta is ideal. During this
period people flock to it from East and West, Indian princes, nobles and
notabilities make Calcutta their headquarters ; even the Viceroy and his staff
visit the City, and Calcutta, in addition to
its commercial importance, becomes a prominent social centre of India.
Inadequate as the foregoing sketch must necessarily be in a work of
this description, enough has been said to show that Calcutta is one of the
greatest and most progressive cities, and that it does lead the world in many
ways.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
Two candid reports on health conditions in
widely separated parts of the British Empire shocked Britons and Americans last
week: one on India, one on England itself. Most shocking was a cabled report
from Dr. John B. Grant, 43, who is on loan to the Indian Government from the
Rockefeller Foundation's International Health Division. Slightly less shocking
is Our Towns: A Close-Up (Oxford University Press), a study of British town
children evacuated to the country in 1939.
Dr. Grant does not describe the smell of
Calcutta, the Indian habit of throwing garbage and excrement out of windows,
the children running loose with smallpox nor the more or less constant state of
semifamine in some sections. But his criticisms are grim enough:
> For India's 400,000,000 people there are
42,000 doctors (two-thirds of them licensed) and 5,000 nurses. The 6,500
dispensaries last year treated only 35,000,000 old and new patients.
>In all India there are only ten
university-affiliated medical colleges, not one of which fulfills minimum
requirements for a sound medical education.
> In 1939, malaria killed 1,500,000 Indians;
cholera killed nearly 100,000 (a death rate of 29.3 per 100,000 compared with a
Philippine rate of zero to .01); smallpox killed about 50,000 (a rate of 16.2
per 100,000 compared with zero for The Netherlands Indies and the Philippines).
Tuberculosis is spreading.
>Most Indians can afford only cheap
carbohydrate food (starches and sugar), and are starving for certain food
essentials.
> Bengal has only 6,000 hospital beds for its
50,000,000 people.
>Nearly half of the districts and
three-quarters of the municipalities have no qualified health officers. Of 116
second-class Bengal municipalities, only 27 have a full-time health officer, 28
have not even a sanitary inspector, and eleven have no vaccinator.
>The government assumes almost no
responsibility for industrial health, which is left up
to the factory owners.
India's health budget (less than $30,000,000 in
1939), like the national income ($20 per capita), is meager, but Dr. Grant says
that disconnected administration and overlapping agencies prevent the Indians
from getting even $30,000,000 worth of medical service. Dr. Grant believes that
only a beginning can be made in a public health program at present (e.g., by
establishing a few school health services), that real health progress must wait
until India's 88% illiteracy rate is reduced, since much of India's bad health
and insanitary practices are due to the ignorance, apathy and superstition of
the Indians themselves.
British Untouchables. That the difference
between Indian and British slum conditions is largely a matter of scale is
revealed by Our Towns: A Close-Up. The insanitary state of the evacuated slum
children was comparable to that of the Indian untouchables: about 20% of these
children had head lice, especially the young ones and the older girls who never
comb their hair in order to preserve permanent waves. More than a quarter of
Sheffield's
school children had skin diseases (most common:
the itch). Many children had never been fed a hot meal, never used forks or
spoons. Bed-wetting was common. Since many of the children had never seen a
bathroom, they used the hearth or any convenient corner of a room instead.
Our Towns: A Close-Up was produced at the behest
of Britain's ultrarespectable National Federation of Women's Institutes. The
British Medical Journal calls it "horrifying" and warns readers that
they need "stout stomachs."
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Time Magazine)
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In a country where uniformity
is rare, climate also varies. In the Himalayas it is moist and cold; in northern
India it is dry with extreme heat in summer (up to 125 degrees), and extreme
cold in winter (below freezing point in the Himalayan region). The climate is,
however, equable in sorthern India.
India has three clearly defined
seasons, the winter, the summer and the rainy season. The winter generally
begins from November, the summer from March, and the rainy (monsoon) season
from July. While Cherapunji in the Assam Hills has 460 inches of rain in the
year, Upper Sind has about 3 inches only.
(source: “A Guide Book to Calcutta, Agra, Delhi, Karachi and Bombay” The American Red Cross and the China-Burma-India-Command. [1943]: at: http://cbi-theater-2.home.comcast.net/redcross/red-cross-india.html#INDIA)
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)
CLIMATE: Calcutta has a
tropical climate - the maximum temerature being 106 degrees and the minimum 48
degrees. The monsoon months from June to October are not very pleasant with
humid heat. The cold season from November to March is pleasant.
(source: “A Guide Book to Calcutta, Agra, Delhi, Karachi and Bombay” The American Red Cross and the China-Burma-India-Command. [1943]: at: http://cbi-theater-2.home.comcast.net/redcross/red-cross-india.html#INDIA)
(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 climate here is far from
perfect; although any of you who have soldiered in Louisiana won't mind it
much. There are three seasons which are commonly referred to as the Hot
Weather, the Monsoon, and the Cool Weather. The Hot Weather lasts from March
until the latter part of June. The first part of the season is not too
unpleasant since it is very dry; after the first days of May, however, the
humidity increases and it is very sticky. During the Monsoon there is a small
drop in temperature, with the heavy tropical rains cooling the atmosphere; this
rainy season (average rainfall 67 inches) last from the latter half of June
until the end of September. From the end of the Monsoon until the Cool Weather
begins in November it is hot and damp. Ah, the Cool Weather, with its days that
are clear and warm and its evenings that are cool enough to permit the wearing
of woolen clothing. Paradise! The Cool Weather in Calcutta offers what might be
termed an ideal climate; the dampness and heat of the remainder of the year
have evoked many less flattering descriptions.
Extremes. The
statistically inclined reader will want to know that the highest temperature
ever recorded in the city was 111.3 degrees on 31 May, 1924 and the lowest was
44.4 degrees on 28 January 1899. The humidity ranges from a minimum of 75% to a
maximum of 96%. Happy?
(source: “The Calcutta Key” Services of Supply Base Section Two Division, Information and education Branch, United States Army Forces in India - Burma, 1945: at: http://cbi-theater-12.home.comcast.net/~cbi-theater-12/calcuttakey/calcutta_key.html)
Location :-At Duel Avenue, reached from Sterndale Road or Diamond
Harbour Road.
Trams
:—Alipore, Behala
Buses :—Nos. 3, 3A.
Although
attempts to classify weather conditions in order to predict impending climatic
phenomena in India were in evidence from the earliest times of British interest
in this country, it must be admitted that these observations were very
desultory, mainly owing to insufficient data. In Calcutta, it was not until
1840 that systematic observations commenced with an observatory at the Survey
Office in Park Street, and to this, in 1854, facilities for a time-signal
service to Port shipping were added.
Interest
in meteorology received an impetus after the great cyclone of 1864 which swept
over Calcutta, and in which over 80,000 people perished and a considerable
amount of shipping damaged. Weather phenomena became thereafter a subject of
greater interest, and as a result, five provincial systems of observation came
into existence during the period 1865-1874, the one for Bengal starting in
1867. Later, as the outcome of a Government scheme for an all-India service,
which was launched in 1875, the Alipore Observatory was founded, where the work
included the recording of observations of various meteorological elements. A
very important project in this scheme, was the inauguration of daily weather
reports: the first to begin in Calcutta was in 1877. Observational data were at
that time collected by post and charts prepared at the Central Office. The
droughts and famines of 1876 and 1877, made Government anxious for quicker
weather information, and in 1878 observations began to be telegraphed in code
to Weather Report Centres. Improvements were introduced from time to time,
until finally the advent of wireless telegraphy ushered in an era of increasing
usefulness to the shipping world.
As
time went on, the meteorological work in Calcutta gradually grew in importance,
and on the transfer of the Storm Warning Service from Simla to Calcutta, in
1926, the Alipore Meteorological Office and Observatory had developed into a
firstclass weather observatory, pilot balloon observatory and seismological
station.
Its
activities today include: the maintenance of a series of observations by
eye-reading and by autographic instruments registering pressure, temperature,
wind, humidity, etc;
the
forecasting of weather phenomena, for north-east India;
the
publication of a daily weather bulletin and a report of storms in the Bay of
Bengal; and the issuing of weather reports to airmen on the trans-India and
Burma routes. Time-signals are yet another sphere of this Office's activities;
these
are supplied by time-ball to Fort William, by wireless to shipping at sea, and
by telegraph to all stations throughout the Indian telegraph and railway
systems.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
October 22, 1945
Dearest Ritter, my sweetheart:
Imagine if you can, the hardest
kind of downpour, such as we have occasionally in Ohio for 15 minutes during
severe storms. Imagine that, then presume to think what the situation is here.
There have been literally sheets of rain glassing the sky for 96 hours, with
only short intervals of respite. At the moment, 9:45 p.m., it has been raining
so hard that conversation could not be conducted for 45 minutes. And it has been
raining like that all day.
Last night, while I tried to
carry on as AOD (acting officer on duty), it rained desperately in spurts which
came every 15 minutes and lasted about five or ten. Synonymous with the ringing
of the phone for me to go out on a call would be the start of another downpour.
Tonight we have lightning and thunder with the rain. It looks outside now as it
did in the opening scenes of Bromfield's "The Rains Came."
This noon the water was over
six inches deep behind the ward and over the road. Col. Peterson telephoned for
transportation and an ambulance came for us. This afternoon I hit upon the idea
of riding my bike through it, for the storm had let up a little.
But coming back at 5:00, I had to splash through about four
inches, came out of it safely. The thin-tired bike makes it easily through the
oozy mud of the lawns, which is something that our heavier ones would not do.
(Source: pp. 223 ff. 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)
At 6:20, one of those tropical
cloudbursts smashed down on us, kept right on crashing until 8:30. About 7:45,
Ruth and I decided that rain or no rain, we were going to get something to eat.
So we started for our mess hall. The area at the back of the ward, though which
we had to go, was completely covered in water. I know it fairly well, but Ruth
doesn't, and despite my guidance, she fell in a ditch. But it wouldn't have
made much difference, for we were completely wet through when we reached the
Mess Hall. A group of officers were waiting, in raincoats, for the rain to let
up, when we approached. Uninhibited Ruth yelled at them, "Sissies!"
The Col. and Ann were inside and we dripped to their table, where the Col.
blandly introduced me to one and all with, "All of you know drowned-rat
Beard?"
One thing led to another, and
it was spontaneously decided that we would make a party of four to go to the
dance. I changed first, joined them at Ann's quarters, from which we got
transportation to Ruth's, where she had been for us. Southern Avenue was
flooded from curb to curb. After a crazy evening at the club, Ruth played drums
in the orchestra and the Col. drank too much, and I presume that I did, and
then the Col. decided that we should eat. We went back to the big general mess for
coffee and sandwiches. I finally got back about 2:30, rather tired.
(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)
April 9, 1945
Dearest Ritter:
The frolicking wind blows
wildly and irresponsibly through our compartment at this 5:30 afternoon hour.
Our pinup girls are dancing on their heads or really kicking up their heels in
wild abandon. Still no rain and so our lives are talcumed with dust at all
hours of the day and night.
[…]
(Source: page 140 ff 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)
Since it gets hotter in Missouri than in Bengal, the heat didn't
bother me too much, personally, but it was a problem in processing photo film.
Development chemicals work best at 65-degrees F, so ice was used to pack around
chemical storage jugs if necessary.
But, one way we coped was by going strictly non-military with clothing
while working. Normal work attire consisted of cut-off miltary issue long
pants, no shirt and Indian-made slippers instead of military-issue shoes. We
didn't look much like "sharp soldiers," but we were comfortable. This
went for our tech personnel and the officers, too. We were basically a
"laid back" outfit with a job to do. We did it to the best of our
ability and I think we probably saved a batch of 14th Army lives with the
intelligence we provided.
Please remember, now, I was in a quite different kind of outfit from
the vast majority of American men assigned to CBI.
(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)
The climate, whilst tolerable from a month or two, during
what we can laughingly call winter is decidedly hot for the rest of the year
and in the five monsoon months is VERY hot, a "prickly heat"
difficult to avoid.
(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)
Later I was sent to Calcutta in eastern India to help fight against the Japanese. The
climate there is always very hot and humid […]
One day some Mosquito aircraft arrived at the airfield
from England to start bombing operations against the Japanese in Burma.
Unfortunately their water-cooled engines overheated and many crashed on
take-off. Then some of the glue began to come unstuck (due to the high
temperature and very high humidity ?) and the airframes started to crack. I
lost several pilot friends in planes I may have helped to make. But my job was
to help keep our planes flying at all costs, It was a nasty experience and I
fell ill and was sent home.
(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)
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A vulture feasting on some meat, as seen and photographed by my
Father, Sgt. Philip Roy Gallop, during his service in Calcutta in
the Royal Air Force.
(source: A8613010 Vultures 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)
This buffalo herd's movements seem to be guided by whim alone and are
typical of the complete indifference to traffic control by man and animal
alike. this is Old Court House street,
one of Calcutta's busiest. In left
background is Great Eastern Hotel, Calcutta's best, used by U.S. Officers as a
billet.
(source: webpage
http://oldsite.library.upenn.edu/etext/sasia/calcutta1947/? Monday, 16-Jun-2003 / Reproduced by courtesy of David N. Nelson, South
Asia Bibliographer, Van Pelt Library, University of Pennsylvania)
(source: webpage http://40thbombgroup.org/indiapics2.html Monday,
03-Jun-2003 / Reproduced by courtesy of
Seymour Balkin)
(source: webpage http://40thbombgroup.org/indiapics2.html Monday,
03-Jun-2003 / Reproduced by courtesy of
Bob Sanders)
(Source: Elaine Pinkerton / Reproduced by courtesy of Elaine Pinkerton)
(source: Glenn S. Hensley: Oxen market, B027, "Oxen market somewhere near the Zoological Gardens, Calcutta" seen at University of Chicago Hensley Photo Library at http://dsal.uchicago.edu/images/hensley as well as 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 and under a Creative Commons license)
(source: Glenn S. Hensley: Oxen market, B028, "Oxen market somewhere near the Zoological Gardens, Calcutta" seen at University of Chicago Hensley Photo Library at http://dsal.uchicago.edu/images/hensley as well as 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 and under a Creative Commons license)
Now that it is definitely warmer and rain is threatening, our friendly
pests, the bugs, are back. It is interesting to observe how the bugs change in
kind and character from one season to another. At the moment I am being
particularly annoyed by a brown bug, about a half inch across, through, and deep.
It infiltrates through the bamboo lattice works and goes careening around the
room. I've already killed a half dozen of them. The ever present mosquito is
here, but I've seen very few of those small blue bugs. Just as I was about to
write that the huge, inch long, half inch wide beetles hadn't been seen
recently, I heard a buzzing by the door, and sure enough, there was one,
appearing for all the world like an overloaded bomber struggling through the
air.
(Source: page 128 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)
The covered walk past the gym towards the Day Bogs
was supported by heavy timber uprights and horizontal rails and for some reason
these spaces were favourite sites for large spiders to spin their webs. This
allowed us two diversions. One was to bend the top of a supple twig into a
loop, then collect webs over the loop, until it became a miniature tennis racquet
that could be used to bounce a small pebble. In the second one, moving a spider
to the next web left both creatures believing their patch had been invaded by
the other.
Beetles
were also collected, and tradition demanded that anyone brave enough to take a
bite on a finger became the new owner of that particular beast. Stag beetles
bites were considered “easy”… one from a rhino was a more serious undertaking,
especially when the present owner enraged the prize by stroking its head just
before the challenger’s finger was offered up.
A proven way of preventing the dormitory matron
from inspecting your locker was to keep at least one harmless yet impressive
grass snake in there. This meant collecting ladybirds each day for the snake’s
supper.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Gardiner)
What with the hum of the mosquito above, and the bug in the bed below,
I am regularly humbugged out of my night's rest.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Harry Hobbs)
In the cinema […] you always sat on your coat because of the bugs.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Pat Barr)
But the adjutant crane seemed to have been ousted by an army of
carrion crows. These were the chief scavengers and I was often entertained by
their impudence, as when one of them filched a slice of papaya from my plate at
breakfast.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Harold Acton)
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.
This was when I learned my first lesson about life in
India. As I carried my mess tin of porridge and Soya bean bangers, the plate
was suddenly smashed from my grip to land on the ground whilst the bangers were
in the possession of a Kite Hawk ( although that wasn’t exactly the name they
were given), as it perched up in a tree enjoying half my breakfast. I had
learned the hard way not to leave food exposed to these scavengers.
(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)
One of my first sights was an elephant on the pavement.
I've no idea what it was doing there. No one seemed to be responsible for it or
tried to move it -- they just walk round it.
(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)
There we boarded a very slow train to Calcutta stopping at
station restaurants for food and we had to be aware of thieving monkeys or kite
birds that swooped down and grabbed food out of our hands.
(source: A3935432 War Service Abroad as a Wireless Operator 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)
Our destination was La Martiniere School off Louise
Circular road where we were stationed at 221 Group HQ. Settling in was
bewildering. Different ways of doing things at work, and outside, a city that
was different to anything we had seen before and so large and crowded that we
had great difficulty finding our way around. Different did I say? Well, I
hadn't expected to have to defend my dinner before I could eat it. One old
stager warned me "keep your food covered when you cross the yard".
The food was collected individually from a kitchen -- then we crossed the small
yard about 12 feet across and ate our meal in what had been a classroom. After
collecting my first dinner I set off across the yard, ignoring the "line
shooting" of my new friend. Whoosh!! And I looked in disbelief -- my meal
had gone, leaving just the veg. Apparently the "Kite Hawks" as we
called them, were experts at this sort of thing. I made sure it didn't happen
again.
(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)
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.
(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)
With the single projector one had to change reels, usually eight to a
film; this swift but unavoidable interval was always greeted with catcalls.
When showing Indian films to the coloured troops, there were usually
twelve reels or more. Very tedious! To shorten the show, I tried cheating by
missing out some reels at random but was caught out one night by an Indian
officer who knew the film story - rapped knuckles for that one!
Those Indian films with their strange music always seemed to attract
snakes; maybe it was just coincidence but so often after such a show there was
a snake scare. One night during a show, I went back to the 15cwt to fetch
something and there found a long snake inside the cab near the engine. Being a
'clever dick', I pulled out the Service revolver we carried (a Colt .38) and
fired at it. Oh yes! I hit it after a couple of shots but in doing so smashed
the carburettor and had to spend the night on location. Needless to say, I
slept the night in the Unit's Sergeants Mess, not in the truck.
(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)
Mosquitoes are plentiful and difficult to keep out from
under your mosquito net.
A common sight on waking is a mosquito on the wrong side
of the net bloated with your blood which leaves a vivid red mark when you
squash it. Of course, wild life is prolific and even in the most immaculate
cantonment bungalow the rains bring all sorts of crawlers, flyers and jumpers
into your living room, particularly when the lights are lit. The noises at
night are truly prolific - bull frogs and jackals are easily identified, but
many others sounds from the gentle to the horrific are not - except to the
expert. Snakes are common - some very large and fast moving, others quite small
and it is best to wear slacks at night when it is dark. They don't normally
attack and are apparently as pleased to keep out of our way as we are to keep
out of theirs. There are, however, a large number of fatalities each year
amongst the native population and we had some in the jungle war zones. We
usually carried a lit torch when changing watches at midnight as our bamboo
signals hut was in a rather remote part of the grounds at the back of the
governor's residence. Perhaps my most nerve-racking "snake"
experience was during one Christmas midnight to 0800 Watch. There was a sudden
"flop" and looking up we saw that a snake had fallen through the
bamboo roof and had dropped on top of our transmitter, about to seven to eight
feet from the ground. We couldn't do much about it without damaging the transmitter
and none of us knew sufficient about snakes to know whether it was dangerous or
not. Anyway it curled up - no doubt attracted by the warmth of the transmitter
(it was the coldest part of the year) and was still there when we went off
watch five to six hours later. I gather that it moved of its own accord shortly
afterwards.
The wildlife could occasionally bring its own joy like the
fire flies that sometimes laced the wires like fairy lights.
[….]
During our short stay in tents the local wildlife hit back
at Brian Wilson. He spent the best part of his pay (we were paid fortnightly)
on a leather suitcase from the local bazaar. It seemed a bargain, but he left
it on the ground in the tent and the following morning, when he opened it to
move his kit in, he found that the bottom had completely disappeared and in its
place were thousands of red ants busily enjoying themselves with apparently a
taste for leather..
(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)
So I was the ship’s postman. I got friendly with a Subby
(Sub-Lieutenant) Deacon — he was a copper in Golders Green. He had an office
and oh, I was landed there - I was even learning to type! First port of call
was Gibraltar. You never knew where you were going so my first thought was ‘I’m
not going back to bleeding West Africa again am I?’. But no, we went from
Gibraltar into the Mediterranean — called in on Malta and then went right the
way through the Suez Canal, out the other side to Port Said and across the Red
Sea into the Indian Ocean. We called in at Calcutta and there we loaded up with Indian Soldiers and a couple
of armoured cars.
Whilst I was in India, this insect bit me on the finger.
First of all it was like a blister and it got bigger and bigger and hard, like
a marble. The sick bay bloke that we had, used to be a plumber. Course, he
didn’t know nothing, did he. He gave me some hot water and I spent several days
with my finger immersed in hot water but that didn’t work and now there was a
red mark going up my arm. There were other ships with us by now because they
were all getting ready for the big invasion. They put me in a motor boat and we
went across to a Canadian destroyer. They took me up into the sick bay and the
Canadian doctor said to me: ‘When you wake up after the injection, you’ll feel
like you’ve been on the booze.’’. He put his scalpel in the lump, cut it open
and out they came like maggots — well they were maggots. Got ‘em all out,
scraped it clean, washed it and he said to me: ‘ If it had been another 2 or 3
hours I would have had the pleasure of taking your arm off.’
(source: A6862728 East-End boy goes to Sea (3) - Jacko's sad demise. 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 was a dreadful place and I can remember one night waking up to find
that the sheet was absolutely a mass of cockroaches. Somebody had fumigated
their house and because this area was so open these cockroaches had flown off
from there and just invaded us en masse. Never before had I seen and I hope
never again to see anything like it. I was absolutely terrified as were we all.
Can you imagine waking up in the middle of the night and finding your sheet one
mass of brown crawling cockroaches - like something out of a horror film.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Your Health. No, we're not toasting your health; though we will do so
gladly. You bring the quart. Health? It's that thing you don't know you've got
until you have lost it. And this city is as good as any place to lose it. Let
us be kind and say no more than that sanitary conditions could be better here.
In India, put up your dukes and start jabbing defensively the moment you hit
any city. Calcutta - no exception.
Medical Care in the Calcutta Area. Each camp or staging area has its own
dispensary. In the city itself the General Dispensary is located at 77 Park
Street (Dental Clinic, too). Anyone needing medical care should first go to a
dispensary where he will be seen by the Medical Officer in charge; any cases
needing hospital care will then be sent to the 142nd General Hospital. Except
in an emergency demanding immediate hospitalization the above routine is to be
strictly adhered to. Short-cutting will only succeed in landing you back at the
dispensary from which you should have started.
Sizing Things Up. You are in the city. Will those big buildings protect you from
the bite of a small insect? They will not. Is the sun any less strong here than
out in the open fields? It is not. Is that colored drink okay because its sold
in a bottle? No. And so it is urged that you:
1. Do use mosquito repellents, do sleep under nets, do keep your
sleeves rolled down after the sun starts to go down. Malaria and Dengue are
both endemic in Calcutta, and both can be extremely serious as well as
uncomfortable. The mosquito is small yet mighty. He's got hair on his chest.
2. Do respect the sun. Do wear sunglasses, do wear protective head
covering, and - for Pete's Sake ! - do your drinking after sundown even though
you strike town early in the day with a terrific thirst. If you do any amount
of drinking and then walk out into the sun, you will know how concrete feels
when hit with a sledge hammer.
3. Do eat and drink the right things in the right places. Stick to the
in-bounds restaurants and ice cream stores. Eat only at those places which
prominently display the "In Bounds" signs. Even these will be none
too good - that is, compared with the sanitary standards you grew to accept as
normal back home. You can buy ice cream, soda water, and native candy from
sidewalk peddlers - you can, but it's cheaper to cut your throat. Eat only
cooked fruits and vegetables - that goes for in-bounds places, too. Uncooked
fruit is all right only if you peel it yourself.
4. Do drink safe water. The only safe water is that which has been
chlorinated or boiled. Cholera and all the various types of dysentery are
present in the city in endemic form. Be careful - unless you want to be Number
One in the Throne Parade. Water used for brushing the teeth should be of the
same standard as drinking water.
5. Do think twice, and then a third time, before petting any type of
animals in India, including your favorite, the dog. Our old friend Rabies is
prevalent in this area. And see that diseased-appearing beggar over there?
Well, he may have petted that animal last.
6. Do avoid local ice in your drinks - unless you know that the ice
has been checked for drinking water standards of safety. And who's going to
show you the certificate?
7. Do take those salt tablets during the hot season. Three to four a
day - an item of issue by the Q.M. Avoid decreased efficiency, fatigue, heat
cramps, and heat prostration.
(source: “The Calcutta Key” Services of Supply Base Section Two Division, Information and education Branch, United States Army Forces in India - Burma, 1945: at: http://cbi-theater-12.home.comcast.net/~cbi-theater-12/calcuttakey/calcutta_key.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)
As usual, this week a Group Psych class. For a change, some of the
boys admit they get something from it. This surprises me; arouses the cynic,
and causes me to re-examine the fellows who so speak. I am becoming as crass as
Pilgrim about the "boys." He says they are damned spineless
yellowbacks!
The nurse is bothered constantly by a procession of them with
complaints like these: "I want some APC's for a headache." "My
back hurts." "My joints ache." "I've got a breaking out
here (they point), what's good for it?" "Can't someone do something
for me?" "I'll blow my top if I don't get out of here." "I
couldn't sleep last night." "I had the worst dreams; awakened tireder
than when I went to bed." 'The back of my neck aches...What about an x-ray
of my ankle; I think it is swollen. Look how my fingers shake (spreading the
fingers for all to see them tremble) I want an eye consultation My ear hurts. I
itch all over I want to
see the Lieutenant. I want to see the Major. Someone had better do something
for me."
That's the way it goes...the whole day. In addition, many of them are
on regular prescribed medication programs. And these are fellows that have been
cleared of organic disease by Medical Services.
What fun!
(Source: page 188 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)
Have I told you that I now have 41 patients on the ward, 16 of whom
are boarded casuals from up the line? The casuals cost little or no work, but
the remaining patients are all very difficult cases. Anyone with any gumption
at all will not come to the hospital now. So that means that practically every
case we have is a primary behavior disorder, emotional immaturity, a
psychopathic personality, or a chronic or psychopathic alcoholic. Actually,
nothing, positively nothing, can be done to remedy the condition of these men.
I have a particularly bad case or two which I'll write up on the
typewriter for you in a day or so.
(Source: page 208 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)
Today is Saturday, and even as you welcome the weekend, so do we, for
our two half days off are precious to us. Not that we work so hard, but rather
the idea of freedom to do as one likes makes the half-days memorable.
Unfortunately, I gained no half-day this afternoon, but instead conscientiously
returned early at noon to check a patient whom we consider sending to the
locked ward - 51.
This boy was born in Germany, came to America at the age of 3 1/2 with
his parents. He is now 22. When he arrived on my ward, he was quiet but
cooperative, seemed to be holding something back. His complaint was a
tight-scary sensation in the chest in the region of the heart, which sent his
pulse rate up. Under psychotherapeutic treatment, he began to exhibit anxiety symptoms.
Soon he was going to nurses and ward
men to hold his hand, to feel his pulse, to check if his heart were still
beating.
He told me that he had stopped masturbating because he thought it gave
him a headache (his original complaint). When he tried to start three months
later, he couldn't get an erection. He became frightened. For several days now,
he has reported little or no sleep at night. However, his eyes are not
bloodshot, he has no circles under his eyes, and his face is placid and doesn't
show signs of strain. He often gives the wrong answers, psychiatrically
speaking, to questions asked him. He tells us what he thinks we want to hear,
not what the usual sick person would say!
The Col. agreed with me that the boy is faking, and so I came back to
observe him. He did go out to play ball, came back in looking much better, .but
worried because he hadn't been tired out by the exertion, was certain that that
was abnormal. But I reassured him and got away about 4:15 p.m. with instruction
to the nurse to watch him.
(Source: page 210 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)
October 12, 1945
[…]
This morning I tried to send the man who ran over the Hindu child back
to duty, taking him to the Col. for a conference. Imagine my consternation when
he broke down and cried like a baby to the Col.'s questioning because he was
afraid that he would never be able to explain to his religious mother why he
had taken a life. As I have already written you, it was not the driver's fault.
The Biblical injunction "Thou shalt not kill" doesn't apply in his
case because he did everything possible to save the reckless boy. The Col. had
an excellent idea - send the chap to the chaplain. We will see what Colbern
reports.
[…]
October 22, 1945
[...]
We boarded two patients this morning, decided to scratch from
Saturday's shipment the fellow who accidentally killed the Hindu boy because I
caught him reading his chart last night. He failed to tell me the truth, and I
thought that if his religious scruples, which he has been so highly tooting,
permitted him such leeway, then as far as I was concerned, he could go back to
duty. That caused a painful interview between him and me later in the day,
because he was already listed on the shipment and had been called to get his
baggage in order. I went into my song and dance about accepting the
consequences of our acts. I don't think he liked it. I don't give a damn
whether he did or not. I am tired of dealing with weak minded, sanctimonious
hypocrites.
[…]
Calcutta, India
October 23, 1945
Dearest Ritten
This letter is being written the morning of October 24. I wrote you a
short note last evening, but just did not seem up to trying to write out a
description of all that happened yesterday. I think that all in all I had my
worst day of psychiatric experience the 23rd.
Here's the way the day started out. Cloudy. Tassio came in to tell me
that the patient who figured in the accident that killed the Hindu boy and whom
I had taken off the Friday shipment, was on the warpath. He had gone to see
Col. McConkie, and he had Col. Powers' assurance that he could leave today.
Hmmm.
I noticed the chap, named Warren, in front of Col.
Peterson's office, Ward 47, dressed in fatigues and looking very desperate and
determined. Nonetheless, the Col. didn't show up until after ten. in the
meantime, Warren came back to the ward (55). I went out to tell him that we
would go to see the Col. at the earliest possible moment. He was sitting on one
side of the bed while I sat just next to him on the adjoining bed.
Suddenly he opened up on me, as it were, with the comment that
"You are no psychologist, I wouldn't let you analyze my hogs."
I was somewhat taken aback, but I agreed that he wouldn't have to keep
me from it, I wouldn't take the job in the first place, having my hands full of
the owner. But Warren kept right on talking, despite my efforts to placate him.
He wanted me to take my insignia off, so that he could beat me. He worked himself
into such a rage that he started for me, his wicked little eyes bloodshot and
blazing.
For the first time since I have been here I felt a delicious little
thrill shoot through me, as though a pressure had been released, and finally I
was to be permitted to let off a little steam, too. I was sure that I was
dealing with a madman, and prepared myself to give him the surprise of his
life. I sat quite still, looked him in the eye, and said, simply enough,
"Sit down." Just like that. For one long moment he wavered...then a
lifetime of retreating dropped him back on the bed. He continued to vilify me.
At the outset, he had asked me if I were a Jew. He condemned the Jews for
keeping him in the hospital, charged that I was allied with them. Of course, he
could name no Jews. (He didn't know about Gerber.)
Finally, he went into a paranoid state completely, threatening to kill
me if he had the chance, and to kill anyone else who interfered with his plans
to get out of the hospital. It did absolutely no good to argue with him or try
to explain. He accepted what he liked, rejected every shred of information that
didn't suit his plans, He dropped his cloak of Christianity completely. (It is
interesting to note that the most devoted follower of the church whom it has
been my misfortune to have on the ward turned out to be the most vicious
personality whom I have encountered.)
I got his promise to not do anything drastic until he had seen Col.
Peterson. Just then Col. Pete and Major Pilgram came in. We called Warren in,
and he began sobbing out his imprecations against the Jews, the army, and
intimated that he had been persecuted as much as he intended to take. He wildly
threatened to kill, to commit suicide, etc. He claimed that he did not care
about the death of the Hindu boy, but that it was just another jab at him by
fate which permitted others to make fun of his misfortune. It was pretty
obvious that he had lost his mind, so we decided to send him to 51. That was
it.
(Source: pp.213, 223 & 225 ff. 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)
The food markets of "filthy Calcutta" display their
uncovered wares near drains and open latrines, sprinkle them with unfiltered
water. It is an open invitation to cholera, one of the dread diseases of the
East.
Last week, once again, a cholera epidemic raged in Calcutta; there
were 80 new cases daily. At the Grand Hotel, chief rendezvous of Allied
fighting men on leave in the CBI theater, 15 British soldiers had fallen ill
and a U.S. Negro orchestra leader had died.
The disease was spreading like fire through the city, packed with
thousands of U.S. and British soldiers. Although 29 British soldiers had come
down with it, not one U.S. serviceman had yet been infected—thanks to the U.S.
Army's compulsory vaccination rule.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Time Magazine)
3. Take care of your health if you want it to take care of you. You
will not find a brothel in-bounds either according to the M.P.'s, according to
your present health and the future health of your children, or according to
your pocketbook. There are "easy" girls, the so-called amateurs, in
the in-bounds area. Sure, there are. But you didn't persuade her with your
charm. Some other fellow made the road easy for you. And he, that last customer
in this free bread line, might have left a present with her to be relayed to
you. Over 50% of these kind-hearted amateurs have V.D. And if you forget all
else, for remember the "Pro" stations listed in the Health section of
this booklet.
(source: “The Calcutta Key” Services of Supply Base Section Two Division, Information and education Branch, United States Army Forces in India - Burma, 1945: at: http://cbi-theater-12.home.comcast.net/~cbi-theater-12/calcuttakey/calcutta_key.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)
Women.
(Whoops, here we go again! But we don't mind knocking ourselves out if you guys
don't mind listening.) Those of you who have already made up your minds to
abstain, kindly turn to the movie section and decide what show you want to go
to tonight. That eliminates part of the audience - we hope. To go on: As in any
port city in the Orient, Calcutta is riddled with venereal diseases. Studies
show that professional prostitutes are 150% infected (half have one and the
other half have two). Even in the native population the rate is well over 50%.
That good-looking amateur whom you think you convinced by your personal charm
may be just the baby to hand you a gift package - unwrapped.
Prophylaxis. So we didn't convince you - or you got sort of tight and forget
that you were convinced. Then do remember that there are Prophylactic Stations
located at:
77c Park Street
6 Lindsay Street
14 Watgunge Street
Hindusthan Building
Each camp dispensary in the Calcutta area.
(source: “The Calcutta Key” Services of Supply Base Section Two Division, Information and education Branch, United States Army Forces in India - Burma, 1945: at: http://cbi-theater-12.home.comcast.net/~cbi-theater-12/calcuttakey/calcutta_key.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)
There were many, so many I can't recall, from leprosy to various
parasites of many kinds. The one disease that most guys got at one time or
another was some form of dysentery from aombebic (sp) up and down. Obviously,
there were disease-caused deaths, but just what, I don't really know.
(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)
Health situation? Well, the worst I ever had was an outbeak of skin
rash we called the "Calcutta Crud," and a skirmish with dysentery. I
was careful to only eat cooked food, peeled fruit and iodine-treated water. Our
squadron had little in the way of real health problems. We had a good squadron
physician who watched over us quit well and was always available for our
treatment. He was a Capt. who we called "Good Doc Snively."
Medicines? Merthiolate (sp) was availabe for the "crud" and
there were anti-biotics as available at the time. I don't know just what, but
we always seemed to have what was needed.
(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)
At the same time my injured arm was playing up - I said
that I would have to be demobbed because I couldn`t raise that arm to salute
properly! I was sent home in 1946. I`m so tall that no demob suit could be
found for me; for formal events I had to continue to wear my officer`s uniform
for several months although I was a civilian.
(source: A4255427 Early Promotion 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)
Monday, 24 July: During the past week, I succumbed
to dengue and bed, and remained there, nursed by my bearer, for almost a week.
However, I have now recovered and am doing Home Sister duty. This is a thankless
job, and one that lasts from 7.30am to 9pm. Whether you are on or off, somebody
manages to find a job for you.
It is, however, a good means by which to acquire
Urdu, since it’s the only way to cope with bearers and sweepers. Actually, the
whole thing is very wearing, but I am interested in the housekeeping side. A
big factor is that nobody interferes!!
Put in isolation
Monday, 31 July: I was but a few days Home Sister
before I found myself back in bed again. Undiagnosed and running a temperature
of 104.8 °F, I was sent off to 21st BGH, where I now repose in the officers’
medical ward. I must admit I felt at death’s door for a few days, but that is
wearing off now.
The general opinion seems to be that I’ve got
typhoid, and so I’m isolated! Actually the folks are very kind, but the general
standard of nursing isn’t very good.
My temperature persists
Monday, 7 August: Once again, I am back in the
general ward, which is somewhat less boring. Have had lots of visitors,
including Francis, which was a grand surprise. She is in Calcutta for a few
days and very kindly finds time to visit me each day.
Francis knows a patient in the next ward, a very
nice Irish girl, Moira Gorman, who comes along to see me too. My temperature
still persists, and nobody seems to know what is the matter, which is typical
of the army.
(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)
I don't remember if we were ever actually told by the authorities that
friendships
or relations with Indian women were prohibited. But we were always warned of
course of the usual evil croppin' its head up—the VD situation. It was pretty
rife actually among the troops. Oh, quite a lot, particularly in the leave
centres. This is because there was prostitutes and they were gettin' used. And
it was an offence if you got VD. In the early days there was fellows in my unit
that went down with VD - probably naive people, you know- but afterwards, I
think the message got home after a few bad cases of gonorrhoea and what not and
the horrific tales that these guys came back wi' after they had their
treatment! Because in these days it was the old lumbar puncture up the back and
apparently that was a horrific experience. It was enough to put you off havin'
any ideas in that direction.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Ian MacDougall)
At Calcutta I developed a fever and took to my bed at the Great
Eastern Hotel. Foolishly, I had bought a Family Doctor, & book from which I
gathered that families in India were
subject to an alarming
number of diseases. I could not
be certain whether I was suffering from cholera, beri beri, plague or
blackwater fever, but felt as though I had the lot. The Indian doctor, who came
to my assistance, could find nothing specifically the matter with me and, perhaps exorcised by his diagnosis, the fever left me as rapidly as it had appeared.
(source pages 9 of John Rowntree: “A Chota Sahib. Memoirs of a Forest Officer.” Padstow: Tabb House, 1981.)
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a
non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the
Estate of John Rowntree)
There followed several months of relative tranquillity
interrupted by my 20th birthday which I spent in sick bay with Malaria, not
caring if I ever saw 21. I did, however, survive long enough to walk about for
2 weeks with Jaundice before the sick bay called once more.
(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)
”There were plenty of insects and flying beetles (these
were like cockroaches with wings), and night mosquitoes. We had to use mme osquito
cream, and being fair skinned, they were all very fond of me! After two weeks
in Calcutta I
contracted Ringworm and enteritis and had to go into hospital for a week. The
show had to find a deputy pianist. I went to see a skin specialist when I came
out of hospital and he told me I was allergic to K. D. (Khaki Drill), and so I
had to have a new battle dress and a dress made in white Moygashell.”
[Not quite sure on the spelling, but we think it is a kind
of thin material like silk, Andy) (Moygashel (Pr-BR).]
”In fact I was the only white ENSA Artiste in India if you
know what I mean? But it was a much cooler outfit and suited my skin much to my
relief. After a month in Calcutta H. Q. we were sent us on to Burma.
(source: A5253518 The ENSA Years of ‘The Norris Trio’ - Part 2 - My Burma 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)
This was when I overheard Ida in great distress talking to Aunty
Dolly.
[The Punjab having acute water shortage, at the gate there was an
irrigation well which is a contraption whereby a large water wheel had tins
fitted to its circumference. The wheel is turned by bullocks and in turning
lifts water out of the well which is then diverted into the fields through
channels. We used to love going for a ride on the Khu as it was called and the
boy who used to drive the bullocks usually allowed us to do this.]
One afternoon, Dominic asked Aunty Dolly if he could go and have a
ride on the Khoo. She let him go and shortly after Stephen wanted to go too.
She always confessed to a soft spot for Stephen. She used to tell us that when
my mother was near her time with him, she was admitted to hospital in Patna
because they lived in the Cantonments and it was very far from the hospital.
However, Mummy decided she did not want to stay and left the hospital (in her
nightie) and got in a Rickshaw and came home. By the time she got home, her
pains had started and she could not go back so a messenger was sent for the
Doctor. The Doctor came and things were well on the way by then and no nurse so
Aunty Dolly had to help. she had absolutely no experience and was most
reluctant but then the baby was bom, she said he was a scrawny little scrap and
the Doctor held him out to her. She said "I can't hold that" and the
Doctor said, "I've no time to waste - I've got to see to the mother"
and put the child down on the floor on a blanket. Aunty Dolly said she saw this
"little thing - kicking and squealing" and she picked him up and it
gave her the most unbelievable feeling - as if she had somehow had something to
do with his advent into the world and so felt ever after that there was a
special bond between them. Anyway -she allowed him to go but told him not to
get into mischief. Stephen could not stay out of mischief.
About half an hour later Barney said "Please, Aunty-can I go
too." She said "No" at first but then eventually when he
pestered, she let him. go. He had not been gone very long - probably just had
time to get there and about five minutes more when we heard this unbelievable
screaming. Everybody dropped everything and started running towards the gate.
Half way there we found Barney running back wringing his hands and screaming
"He's dead - Stephen's dead" - he was absolutely hysterical. We then
saw one of the farm hands carrying Stephen in his arms. Stephen's leg was a
mess- The thigh bone was stripped bare of flesh and the man was carrying a lump
of his flesh in one hand. He said a crow had run away with another lump, I have
never seen anything like it and hope I never shall again. He was rushed to
hospital - luckily we had a car in a time when cars were not so plentiful and
they operated on him. And grafted some skin but his thigh has always been
dreadfully scarred.
It appears that as soon as Bamey got there, Dominic said to him
"I dare you to climb on the top bar of this thing" - to which Barney
answered "I'm not mad-no way," Stephen -who has always been full of
bravado said, "If you are scared, I'll do it" and before anybody
could say anything more, he had put his foot on the moving crossbar
- slipped off and got tangled by his leg in the wheel. By the time the
bullocks stopped, the damage had been done and it was very lucky that he was
still alive- Barney had started to run immediately Stephen fell so was
convinced he was dead.
(source: page 21-22 Elizabeth James: An Anglo Indian Tale: The Betrayal of Innocence. Delhi: Originals, 2004 / Reproduced by courtesy of Elizabeth James)
Next stop was a houseboat on the Sundarbans where I contracted
jaundice. Getting relieved and arriving at the B. G. H. in Calcutta took 48 hours, by which time I suffered a rigor.
Sick leave was spent on two mission stations at Jamtara and Mihijam in Bihar
State with my friend Bernard Wright. It was at the latter station that I was
baptised by immersion along with two Bengali Christians. On the subject of
leave I availed myself of all my entitlement during the years in India and
enjoyed a sick leave in Shillong, a visit to Darjeeling and four visits to
Kalimpong, where I awoke every morning to the sight of Mount Kinchinjunga
glistening in the morning sun.
(source: A4175237 Grandpas 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 was also left handed and Burra Aunty used to tell everybody loudly
that "that CHILD must be made to use her right hand since left handed
children were the Devil's children." I did eventually learn to use my
right hand but unfortunately it resulted in my never being able to tell left
from right without thinking about it – something which has caused much hilarity
among my own children - two of whom are left handed.
I stayed on another year for the HSC (Higher School Certificate) which
is now called A Levels and we did five subjects. There were four girls in the
class. There were five actually but one hardly ever turned up so there was just
the four of us and we did have a lot of fun. We did a lot of study on our own
and we had a lot of free time and it was a happy year but at the end of that
year, I had what was called then a nervous breakdown. One day in class the;
teacher (a new lady called Mrs Bob) was shouting at me. Her lips were moving
but I could not hear a word she said and could not for the life of me answer. I
was sent. up to the headmistress - a very English lady called Miss King (MA
Oxon) - who always dressed in tweed skirts and twin sets with a single strand
of pearls and brown brogues and thick stockings. She said, "Well Elizabeth
- we have never had trouble with you and you have never before been sent to me
for insubordination. What is the problem?"
1 answered, "I don't know. I just couldn't hear anything she
said. I could see her tips moving and she thought I was being rude and offering
what she called 'dumb insolence' but I honestly couldn't answer her."
So the school doctor - Miss Calvert-Brown - had a look at me and
decided I'd done too many public examinations much too quickly because there
had been the Junior Cambridge in one year and the Senior Cambridge (normally a
two year course) in one year and now I was attempting the HSC in one year. I
was three years below the average age of the class, and whilst quite capable of
passing the exam - this combined with the sort of pressure under which I was
living at home was just too much.
My next war time memory is coming back from Southern India
on our way to Calcutta, which
is a long journey. We travelled on our ENSA coach, taking us back all the way
through the great Indian Landscape up to Calcutta.
Before I had left for India my Father had given me a
Brownie camera, telling me to make sure I photographed all the places I would
see on my journey, which thankfully I did - I have some wonderful pictures
which I took at that time. Any of the village shops in India would develop
negatives for you and give you your prints in about an hour, so Anne and I went
on particular day into a small shop to do just that. It was very hot and sticky
and steamy and humid. We had been told not to drink anything that had not been
boiled and passed by inspection for our consumption, but as we sat waiting we
looked longingly at the lemonade and Vimto.
“I’ve got to have a drink” I said.
“No no, you know you can’t” said Anne.
“But it’s Vimto, it’s in a bottle it’s been treated, it’ll
be ok.”
“Well, you can do it if you like but I’m not!”
So I bought a bottle of Vimto and drank it, but Anne didn’t.
On the way back to Calcutta, I got dysentery and Anne didn’t.
When we got back to Calcutta I was in quite a poor shape and I was immediately told I
would have to go into hospital. I remember being in the wonderful Grand Hotel
in Calcutta with
a lovely room with mosquito nets on the bed and a big black and white tiled
bathroom. I felt pretty ill, and once I saw a little mouse come up out of the
drains into the room, but where normally I would have jumped up and screamed, I
just lay there and thought oh… a mouse.
Off I was packed to hospital for a couple of weeks.
Meantime, our company had dwindled to about four members as people perhaps
became ill or, as in the case of Beryl our Soprano, were sacked. The remaining
members were split up and put into different Companies and I remained in the
hospital alone.
Anne came to say goodbye to me there, and we were both in
tears because we had been through much together over quite a long period of
time. I have to say I did not have the worst case of dysentery, not amoebic,
and I was young and strong and I got through it. I thought, this is the only
time in my life I have seen food and I don’t want it, and I did lose a lot of
weight. When I came out I was two stones lighter and quite delighted, I thought
a slim new me was great.
(source: A2905184 War time in India with ENSA 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)
Unfortunately my luck in avoiding health problems ran out, as I become
involved with a rabid Burmese Village dog. My orderly and another soldier
killed the dog and unfortunately I was near enough to possibly become infected.
The two riflemen, one of whom was bitten, were given injections of
10cc for 14 days in the stomach. My dose was half this, 5cc for 7 days, also in
the stomach. We were so lean and fit that the injection raised a wheal under
the skin and took a long time to disappear.
As I was rather unwell from all this, the doctor decided that leave in
India would be a good idea so I duly boarded a Dakota with my orderly.
(source: A5011336 Going to War on the Tube - Chapter 6 Mandalay to Rangoon 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 difficult to spend three years in India without
health problems arising, and sure enough I found myself in Barrackpore Military
Hospital with Dysentery. Almost recovered, I contracted a fever which was to be
a scourge for the rest of my life. This was diagnosed as "Dengue"
Fever - inaccurately obviously, as it has plagued me in gradually diminishing
degrees ever since and Dengue is one of the few none-recurrent fevers. There
were so many fevers to be found in India that it was difficult to diagnose them.
Malaria is the most common and they all seem to follow a similar path -
headache, cold and shivering - and eventually it bursts into an almighty sweat.
Weakness and disability follow. The only thing that seems certain is that the
mosquito is the cause of it all.
(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)
I don’t know whether you have ever been on a job where you
have to cover. But when you are on duty and covering, something always happens.
When other people are on, nothing happens; they go to bed. Something always
seemed to happen when I was orderly officer. One early hour of the morning, the
war in Burma had ceased and men were coming back to Calcutta, to go home. Lorry
loads of men were being taken to Calcutta Station, and they had a pile up; one
lorry ran into another, and the Casualty was full of badly injured men and
slightly injured men. The whole lorry load suddenly arrived in Calhitti. And of
course, who is orderly officer? I am. Well, I don’t mind a big job like that,
it suits me. I like a big organising job. “All those not hurt, go over there, a
char will make you some tea. All those with slight cuts and bruise, over there,
the nurses will see to you.
We had runners, we didn’t have telephones. So we sent all
the boys, the runners off to every ward to get them to send all the orderlies
with all the stretchers they’d got, and they all came running into Casualty
like spokes on a wheel. We put the more seriously ill ones on the stretchers to
get them onto the wards. And then I thought, “What am I doing? We have a
Casualty like Piccadilly Circus, and all the men are in bed. So then I sent all
the runners to get all the consultants up, and I can just imagine what they
said. It gave me great pleasure.
(source: A3890225 A Woman Doctor (Part Three) 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)
However, that was one night. Another night I was on, the
troops had come out of Burma and they were bright yellow with nepacrine, and
they thought, “Hooray, we’re out of Malaria country.” They stopped taking
nepacrine. A Medical Officer rings me up and says, “I’ve ten men with Malaria.”
He rings again, “I’ve eight more men with Malaria.” He was gradually shipping
the whole regiment to me with malaria, because they’d all stopped taking the
nepacrine, and that was his blessed fault. However, I said, “Look, I’ve no more
beds left. You’ll have to turn one of your barrack rooms into a ward, and I’ll
send you the treatment. We can’t admit anyone else. That was another time when
the C.O. went out, and went to bed with a half empty hospital and woke up to
find it bulging at the seams. They must have dreaded me being on.
(source: A3890225 A Woman Doctor (Part Three) 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)
Once, I got a phone call from French Indo-China. A little
French girl, they thought, had inhaled a peanut and we were the only people who
could do the bronchoscopy. So they said, could they fly her over? So I said,
“Yes!” The next morning, the C.O.’s having kittens. “YOU HAVE ADMITTED A
CIVILIAN TO A MILITARY HOSPITAL. YOU MAY HAVE TO PAY FOR HER!” So I said,
“Alright, I will.” I didn’t know what I was going to pay, but he wasn’t going
to brow beat me. I said, “I thought the French were our allies.” Mind you, we
had our doubts about that. I was never forgiving of the French for letting us
sink their navy, rather than come over to the allies when Hitler invaded
France. However, we got the little girl and I think the C.O. was a bit touched,
seeing me going round with this little girl, talking to her in my pigeon
French.
Anyway, we did the bronchoscopy and she hadn’t got a
peanut stuck there, and she was flown back and I didn’t hear any more about it.
But this is how it was.
(source: A3890225 A Woman Doctor (Part Three) 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)
[…] we were billeted in the museum. This was in the main
street of Calcutta, called Charingie. While I was there, we were getting bitten
so much by the bugs in the place that I got Dingy fever, so I had a couple of
days in bed. It cleared up and we were able to carry on and go to the pictures,
[…]which were really nice out there, because they were all air-conditioned and
it was so hot in Calcutta. I always remember that on one occasion we went to
see 'Romeo and Juliet'. Obviously it wasn't our taste of a picture and we made
ourselves a bit of a nuisance what with, 'Wherefore art thou, Romeo?' and all
the rest of it. 'Ssh, ssh', people went, so we got up and walked out.
(source: A5526489 Memories of a Bombardier 1940 - 1946 (Part 4) 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)
And we had wee phials of morphine, of course. I think that was general
in the army, too, though I'm no' sure about it. We certainly had them for
dealing with your own wounds or somebody else's wounds. If you got any you
could have self-administered this. And we had purifying tablets for water.
Mepachrine pills to combat malaria. And this cream that was supposed to keep
mosquitoes away but which didn't. I used to think it attracted them! Then we
got mosquito boots, long-legged boots that laced up to the knees, with your
trousers tucked in. At first we had standard army boots but they just fell to
bits. The mosquito boots were a help, although the leeches could still get in.
It's amazing where a leech can get to. They used to creep in. It depended on
where you were. There werenae leeches everywhere you went in Burma. But when
you did hit country where there was leeches these damned things always got in
at places where you couldn't reach them: under your webbing equipment or in
your boots. You used to pour the blood out your boots. Oh. horrible things,
aye, terrible.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Ian MacDougall)
Avalanches are quite common in that part of the world and the most
famous story is that of the Lee children. Ten children whose parents had gone
out for the evening. An avalanche destroyed their entire house and all the
people in it with the exception of one disabled child who was unable to run and
somehow survived the catastrophe. There is a large memorial to the Lee children
in Darjeeling.
Aunty Elsie then contracted Leukodennia - a condition in which the
skin loses all its pigmentation and one ends up like an Albino except that the
hair and eyes retain their colour.
A few years later she died and Aunty Lettie was left alone. Then one
of her stepson's - a handsome, burly figure of a man who was in to weight
lifting and keep fit - discovered he had leprosy. I think that finished her
off. Leprosy is the scourge of the East and something which used to really
frighten me.
Around this time I was nine and Stephen was 12 and I was taller than
he was. What had been a joke with us - his stature – now became cause for
concern and he was taken to a specialist. It seemed that he had a curvature of
the spine and was unlikely to grow any more. The specialist told my mother that
if they operated and tried to correct it, it was a fifty-fifty chance that it
might be successful but also a chance that he would not walk again so it was
decided to leave well enough alone. After all, he was in full possession of his
faculties although sickly and small.
They had three children although most people thought they had only
two. The eldest boy was born disabled. He never learned to walk and he had a
pronounced squint and could not speak properly - spitting all over the place
when he tried. His name was Leslie but he was called Snookums always (I don't
know why). People in those days were ashamed of having handicapped children and
kept them confined to the house - a sort of dark secret. They seemed to think
it was a reflection upon them that one of their children was not 100%.
So I was the ship’s postman. I got friendly with a Subby
(Sub-Lieutenant) Deacon — he was a copper in Golders Green. He had an office
and oh, I was landed there - I was even learning to type! First port of call
was Gibraltar. You never knew where you were going so my first thought was ‘I’m
not going back to bleeding West Africa again am I?’. But no, we went from
Gibraltar into the Mediterranean — called in on Malta and then went right the way
through the Suez Canal, out the other side to Port Said and across the Red Sea
into the Indian Ocean. We called in at Calcutta and there we loaded up with Indian Soldiers and a couple
of armoured cars.
Whilst I was in India, this insect bit me on the finger.
First of all it was like a blister and it got bigger and bigger and hard, like
a marble. The sick bay bloke that we had, used to be a plumber. Course, he
didn’t know nothing, did he. He gave me some hot water and I spent several days
with my finger immersed in hot water but that didn’t work and now there was a
red mark going up my arm. There were other ships with us by now because they
were all getting ready for the big invasion. They put me in a motor boat and we
went across to a Canadian destroyer. They took me up into the sick bay and the
Canadian doctor said to me: ‘When you wake up after the injection, you’ll feel
like you’ve been on the booze.’’. He put his scalpel in the lump, cut it open
and out they came like maggots — well they were maggots. Got ‘em all out,
scraped it clean, washed it and he said to me: ‘ If it had been another 2 or 3
hours I would have had the pleasure of taking your arm off.’
(source: A6862728 East-End boy goes to Sea (3) - Jacko's sad demise. 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)
As soon as measles, German measles, chicken pox or
mumps was confirmed, the school would be placed in quarantine. This meant that
Socials with the other school were cancelled, as well as outings to Kurseong’s
own flea pit. To most of us this was the more serious implication of the
quarantine, especially if the latest Errol Flynn epic was due. Those afflicted were sent to the hospital
that served both schools. If numbers exceeded the numbers of beds there, then
the overflow stayed in the dormitories.
Gradually the numbers of patients would dwindle, this was followed by a
nervous two-week wait in case there were further cases. And woe betide the unfortunate boy who
prolonged the ban on Socials and cinema trips. One year it was mumps that was the scourge. Five of us sufferers
were locked away in an upstairs ward of the hospital. We were lucky to have a generous supply of comics, but these
could not be passed to non-mumpers. We discovered that a classmate had been
admitted with a broken leg, and we were warned that we were not allowed to
visit him under any circumstances. The
unfortunate had no reading matter, and he shouted up a request for something to
be passed to him. It was common
practice for the hospital to issue squares of cotton as handkerchiefs, so we
unravelled some, made up a long chord and lowered some comics to the broken
legged one. A few days later we were
attacked by the irate nurse. The downstairs patient had developed a spectacular
case of mumps, so much so that his head and neck now tapered the wrong way. We
were all able to swear with total conviction that we hadn’t been down to see
the victim. So the charge of lying was added to our dossiers.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Gardiner)
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Achinta Mohan Homoeo.
Dispensary—10 B Mohini Mohan Road.
Amrita Charitable
Dispensary—67 Surendra Nath Banerjee Road.
Ashutosh Homeo. College and
Dispensary—123 Bow Bazar Street.
Ayurvedic Charitable
Dispensary—51 Cotton Street.
Baikantanath
Charitable Dispensary—12 Dass Lane.
Ballygunge Dispensary—23 Rustomjee Street.
Bechulal Dispensary—7/1 Kamardanga Road.
Chandney Charitable
Dispensary—4 Temple Street.
Cbitpore Dispensary—3 Gopal Chunder
Mukerjee Road.
Chittaranjan Free
Unani Dispensary— 4 Kanat Sil Street.
Chittaranjan
Homoeopathic College and Charitable Dispensary— 97A Harish Mukerjee
Road.
Islamia Hospital and
Charitable Dispensary—1 Bolai Dutt Street. Phone, B.B. 2551.
Jogendra Homoeopathic
Dispensary—84 Shambazar Street.
Kangally Chandra
Mullick Homoeopathic Dispensary—17 Sambhu Babu Lane.
Kidderpore
Charitable Dispensary—36 Pipe Road. Phone, South 74.
Manicklal Seal
Charitable Dispensary—33 Canal South Road. Phone, Cal. 2465.
Maniktala
Dispensary—109 Narkeldanga Main Road. Phone, B.B.2191.
Mohamed Ali Hospital
and Dispensary—7 Amratola Lane.
Presidency Medical
School and Charitable Dispensary—29 Russa Road. Phone. South 1052.
Prince Golam Mohamed
Charitable Dispensary—Tollygunge. Phone, South 854.
Rai
Serajmull Bahadur's Charitable Dispensary—6 Mullick Street.
Sagore Dutt Charitable
Hospital and Dispensary— Kamarhatti. Phone, B.B. 3181.
Taltola Dispensary—58 Lower Circular
Road. Phone, P.K. 134.
Tangra Dispensary—108 Chingrihatta
Road.
Ultadanga Dispensary—123 Ultadanga Main
Road.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
Women.
(Whoops, here we go again! But we don't mind knocking ourselves out if you guys
don't mind listening.) Those of you who have already made up your minds to
abstain, kindly turn to the movie section and decide what show you want to go
to tonight. That eliminates part of the audience - we hope. To go on: As in any
port city in the Orient, Calcutta is riddled with venereal diseases. Studies
show that professional prostitutes are 150% infected (half have one and the
other half have two). Even in the native population the rate is well over 50%.
That good-looking amateur whom you think you convinced by your personal charm
may be just the baby to hand you a gift package - unwrapped.
Prophylaxis. So we didn't convince you - or you got sort of tight and forget
that you were convinced. Then do remember that there are Prophylactic Stations
located at:
77c Park Street
6 Lindsay Street
14 Watgunge Street
Hindusthan Building
Each camp dispensary in the Calcutta area.
(source: “The Calcutta Key” Services of Supply Base Section Two Division, Information and education Branch, United States Army Forces in India - Burma, 1945: at: http://cbi-theater-12.home.comcast.net/~cbi-theater-12/calcuttakey/calcutta_key.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)
Malaria was warded off by taking a daily Atabrine pill which turned
everyone's complexion sickly shade of yellow. We also had full cover, mosquito
nets for our cots. I don't think any of our crew had malaria, either in India
or Burma.
(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)
I went to Calcutta for 3 months and lived in a Rajah’s palace. At one time I issued
one million doses of smallpox vaccine a night, and sent medicines over the
Himalayas to General Slim’s troops in China.
(source: A5756187 One Man's 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, like many comrades, spent my 21st birthday in this land
called ‘The Jewel in the Crown’ and what a day. I ‘celebrated’ with the usual
issue of a tin of bully beef, which ran from the tin due to the terrific heat.
Just a few weeks later I was to suffer a bad attack of malaria and was taken to
the Convent of St. Loretta in Calcutta where the nuns, now well known world wide because of Mother
Teresa, attended me. The treatment for the disease was being plunged into a
bath of ice and being given copious doses of quinine.
(source: A6635289 Salamanders – 79 Fighter Squadron 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)
He was taken ill with dysentery and flown to a hospital in
Calcutta to convalesce. He was anaemic and had to eat as much raw and cooked
liver as he could - he never wanted liver again!
(source: A6157703 RAF in Burma 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 Singapore already fallen we had to set sail for
Bombay, where we were held in a transit camp until they decided what was going
to happen to us. It was decided to send us to Calcutta by boat, via Ceylon a journey of 3 weeks. We sailed in a
converted cargo ship, the conditions were terrible, very few hammocks. A lot of
us slept on the floor with the rats and cockroaches.
When we reached Calcutta there was a cholera outbreak going on. Our medical papers
had been lost and so we had to have our inoculations again which we had already
been given in Liverpool. This resulted in the deaths of 2 men as they couldn’t
stand the double dose.
We were again held in a transit camp. One day we were
allowed to go and see the sights, the Black Hole and the Firpos Café. We then
had to move up country to Imphal sailing up the Ganges.
(source: A2361601 Reg Stone: Experience in India 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 remember] The school nurse issuing a spoonful of
Mag. Sulph. to every boy in the school. We had to say "Thank you,
Nurse" to prove we had swallowed the disgusting stuff, thus preventing us
from spitting it out later.. The chaos in the Bogs two hours later…..
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Gardiner)
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Motor Ambulances :—for accidents and non-infectious diseases are kept
at 3 Central Avenue (Phones B. B. 3927 and 3928), for infectious diseases at
the Campbell Hospital (Phone Cal. 3853). Ambulances are available day and
night, free of charge. When 'phoning only the word "Ambulance" is
necessary.
Hand Ambulances :—for infectious diseases are kept at the Campbell Hospital (Phone Cal.
3853), Medical College Hospital (Phone B. B. 1076), North Suburban Hospital
(Phone B. B. 3817) and Mayo Hospital ('Phone B. B. 1058); available free of
charge.
Animal Ambulances :—are kept at the Hospital of the Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, 276 Bowbazar Street ('Phone Cal. 1229) and at
the Veterinary Hospital, Belgatchia ('Phone B. B. 1021).
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
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(Source: Elaine Pinkerton / Reproduced by courtesy of Elaine Pinkerton)
(Source: Elaine Pinkerton / Reproduced by courtesy of Elaine Pinkerton)
Albert Victor Hospital (Leper Asylum)—32 Gobra Road, Entally. Phone,
Regent 200.
This was a department in the old Alma House in Amherst Street. In 1906
the present, asylum was erected and named after H. R. H. Prince
Albert Victor. Admittance was originally restricted to lepers of Calcutta and
suburbs : now open to lepers from all over Bengal.
Out-patients :—8 to 11 a.m. daily, except Sundays.
In-Patients :—Normally 175 beds. Visiting hours, 5 to 7 p.m. daily.
Alipore Police Case Hospital—32 & 33 Belvedere Road. Phone, Alipore 234.
Bengal
Alien Homoeopathic Medical College and Hospital— 169 Bow Bazar
Street. Phone, B. B. 1762.
Out-Patients :—8 to 9-30 a.m. and 5 to 6 p.m. daily, except Sundays.
In-patients :— 17 beds. Visiting hours, 11 to 12 and 5 to 7 p.m.
daily.
Bengal Medical Institution and Hospital—24 Sura 3rd Lane. Phone, B. B. 710.
Bhagwan Das Bagia
Rai Bahadur's Marwari Hindu Hotpital—128
& 130 Harrison Road.
This Hospital was founded and endowed in 1902 by Bhagwan Das Bagia Rai
Bahadur.
Out-Patients :—7 to 10 a.m. daily.
In-Patients :—55 beds. Visiting hours, 10 a.m. to 5p.m. daily.
British Military Hospital—246 Lower Circular Road. Phone, Alipore 267.
Calcutta Dental College and Hospital—114 Lower Circular Road. Phone, Cal. 3955.
There is only an out-door department, open from 8 to 11 a.m.
daily, except Sundays.
Calcutta Homoeopatic College and Hospital—265 and 266 Upper Circular Road. Phone, B. B. 2654.
Surgical, medical, maternity and gynaecological; eye, nose, ear,
throat, chest and dental departments.
Out-Patients :—8-30 to 11 a.m. and 5 to 7 p.m. daily.
Emergency Dept. : —Open day and night.
In-Patients :—85 beds. Visiting hours, 11 to 12 and 5 to 7 p.m.
daily.
Calcutta Medical School Hospital—301/3 Upper Circular Road. hone, B. B. 1730.
Surgical, medical, maternity and gynaecological; eye, nose,
ear, throat, chest and dental departments.
Out-Patients :—9 to 11 a.m. daily.
Emergency Dept.:—Open day and night.
In-Patients :—Normally 225 beds. Visiting hours, 4 to 7 p.m. daily.
Calcutta Police Hospital—16 Beni Nandan Street. Phone, P.K. 340. For all
ranks of the Police Force.
Out-Patients :—At all hours.
In-Patients :—Normally 280 beds. Visiting hours, 4 to 7 p.m. daily.
Calcutta Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals Hospital and Dispensary—276
Bowbazar Street. Phone, Cal. 1229
Campbell Hospital—138 Lower Circular Road. Phone, Cal. 131 and Cal. 2656.
This Hospital has commodious wards and well-equipped out-door
dispensaries. It is open for the treatment of all general and infectious
diseases, except diphtheria.
Out-Patients :—8 to 10-30 a.m. daily, except Sundays.
Venereal, 10-30 a.m. to 12-30 p.m. on weekdays.
Anti-rabic, 10-30 a.m. to 12 noon daily.
Emergency Dept. :—Open day and night.
In-Patients :—Normally 700 beds, but when small-pox and cholera rages
in epidemic form. this number is greatly increased.
Visiting hours, 11 a.m. to noon and 5 to 7 p.m. daily.
Carmichael Hospital for Tropical Diseases. See page 191.
Carmichael Medical College and Hospital—1 Belgatchia Road. Phone, B.B.2510.
Medical, surgical, maternity and gynaecological; eye, ear, nose,
throat and chest departments; tuberculosis, cholera and diphtheria.
Out-Patients : -8 to 10 a.m. daily.
Emergency Dept. :—Open day and night.
In-Patients :—Normally 450 beds. Visiting hours, 4 to 7 p.m. daily.
Chittaranjan Hospital—24 Gorachand Road, Entally. Phone, P.K. 931.
This Hospital was built in 1927 to perpetuate the memory of Deshhandhu
Chittaranjan Dass.
Medical, surgical, maternity, gynaecological; cholera and kalaazar.
Out-Patients :—8 to 10-30 a-m. daily.
Eye Clinic, 10 to 11 a.m.. Mondays, Fridays.
Ear, Nose, Throat, 9-30 to 11 a.m., Tuesdays, Thursdays.
Venereal, 5 to 7 p.m., Tuesdays. Thursdays, Saturdays.
Tuberculosis. 8 to 10 a.m. daily.
Emergency Dept. :—Open day and night.
In-Patients :—164 beds. Visiting hours, 12 to I and 5to 7 p.m. daily.
Chittaranjan Seva Sadan Hospital for Women and Children— 148 Russa Road. Phone,
South 224.
Out-Patients :—Gynaecological, 8 to 10 a.m. daily, except Mondays.
Obstetrical (Ante-natal). 4 to 6 p.m. daily, except Mondays.
Ear, Nose. Throat, 10 to 12 noon, Tuesdays. Saturdays.
Dental Clinic, 10 to 11-30 a.m., Mondays, Thursdays.
Eye Clinic, 6 to 7 p.m. daily.
Emergency Dept. :—Open day and night.
In-Patients:—Normally 167 beds. Visiting hours, 4 to 6 p.m. dally.
The Childrens Clinic :—At Sishu Sadan. 1 Beltola Street.
There is an out-door department open from 8 to 10 a.m. daily.
Indoor Dept.:—36 beds for children. Visiting hours, 4 to 6 p.m. daily.
Dunham Homeopathic Medical College and Hospital for
Men—63 Upper Circular Road. Phone,
B. B. 2757.
Out-Patients:—Morning, 8 to 10 a.m. daily, except Thursdays.
Evening, 6 to 7-30 p.m. daily, except Sundays.
ln-Patients :—15 beds. Visiting hours, 5 to 7 p.m.
Eden Hospital. See page 189.
Eye Infirmary, See page 189.
Ezra Hospital. See page 188.
Gobindra Sundari Free Ayurvedic College and
Hospital—20 Ram Kanto Bose Street.
Medical, surgical, maternity and gynaecological.
Out-Patients :—9 to 11 a.m. daily.
Eye, Nose. Ear, Throat, Chest and Dental Departments, from 9 to
11 a.m., Sundays. Fridays.
In-Patients :—Normally 66 beds. Visiting hours, 5 to 7
p.m. daily.
Howrah General Hospital—Telkul Chat Road. Phone. Howrah 42.
Out-Patients :—Medical. Surgical, Radiological, Obstetrical
(Ante-natal), and Gynaecological, from 8-30 a.m. daily.
Dental, 9 a.m., Mondays. 'Wednesdays. Fridays.
Sfetn, 11 a.m., Tuesdays, Fridays.
Eye Clinic, 11 a.m., Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays.
Ear. Nose, Throat, 10 a.m., Mondays, Thursdays.
Heart Clinic, 10 a.m., Wednesdays, Fridays.
Urological, 9 a.m., Tuesdays,
Fridays.
Fracture Clinic. Pathological, 10 a.m. daily.
Leprosy, 11 a.m., Wednesdays, Saturdays.
Emergency Dept. :—Open day and night.
In-Patients :—Normally 230 beds. Visiting houra, 5 to 7 p.m.
daily.
Indian Military Hospital—Sterndale Road. Phone, Alipore 221.
Lady Dufferin Victoria Hospital for Women and
Children— 1 Amherst Street. Phone,
B. B. 1113.
Medical, surgical, obstetrical (ante-natal), gynaecological.
Out-Patient :—7-30 Co 10-30 a.m. dally, except Sundays.
Emergency Dept. :—open day and night.
In-Patients :—Normally 200 beds. Visiting houra, 4 to 6 p.m.
daily.
Mayo Hospital—67/1 Strand Road North. Phone. B. B, 1058. Medical, surgical,
obstetrical, gynaecological; ear, chest and throat departmants, anti-cholera
and anti-rabic treatment.
Out-Patients :—7-30 to 9-30 a.m. and
1-30 to 5-30 p.m. on weekdays. 7-30 ro 8-30 a.m. on Sundays-
Skin Diseases, 8 to 10 a.m., Mondays,'Wednesdays. Fridays.
Emergency Dept. :—Open day and night.
In-patients :—Normally 115 beds. Visiting hours, 5 to 7 p.m.
daily-
Medical College Hospital. See page 187.
Mental Hospital—100 Maniktala Main Road. Phone, B.B. 2962.
North Suburban Hospital—82 Cossipore Road. Phone. B.B. 3817. Treatment: in
all general and infectious diseases, except small-pox.
Out-Patients :—8 to 11 a.m. daily.
Emergency Dept. :—Open day and night.
In-Patients :—Normally 82 beds. Visiting hours, 11 to 12 noon
and 5 to 7 p.m. daily.
Park Veterinary
Clinic—42 Theatre Road. Phone, P.K.1294.
Park Veterinary Hospital—144 Jhawtolla Road. Phone, P.K. 347.
Pratap Chandra Homoeopathic Hospital—14/1 Narkeldanga North Road. Phone, B.B. 2356.
Medical, surgical? gynaecological.
Out-Patients :—9 to 11 a.m, daily, except Sundays.
In-Patients :—35 beds. Visiting hours, 11 to 12 and 5 to 6 p.m. daily.
Presidency General Hospital. See page 48.
Prince of Wales Hospital See page 188.
Ram Chandra Goenka Hospital and Dispensary—240 Kalighat Road. Phone, South
61.
This Hospital contains four beds for emergency cases.
Ramrikdas
Haralalka Hospital—104 Ashutosh Mukerjee Road. Phone, South 943.
Out-Patients :—8 to 10 a.m. daily.
In-Patients :—22 beds (male). Visiting hours, 5 to 7
p.m. daily.
Sambhu NathPandit Hospital—11 Elgin Road. Phone, P.K. 1374.
Medical, surgical, obstetrical, gynaecological.
Out-patients :—8 to 10 a.m. and 3 to 5 p.m. daily.
Dental Dept., 9 to 10 a.m., Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays.
Eye Clinic, 3 to 5 p.m., Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays.
Anti-rabic Treatment, 10 a.m. daily.
Emergency Dept. :—Open day and night.
In-Patients :—Normally 125 beds. Visiting hours, 5 to 7 p.m. daily.
Shree Vishuddhananda Saraswati Marwari Hospital—118
Amherst Street. Phone, B.B. 1030.
Medical, surgical, obstetrical, gynaecological.
Treatment in Allopathic, Homoeopathic and Ayurvedic.
Out-Patients :—8 to 11 a.m. and 5 to 6 p.m. daily.
In-Patients:—320 beds. Visiting hours, 7 to 8 a.m. and 12 to 4p.m.
daily.
Tuberculosis Hospital— Jadabpur. Phone, P. K. 1821.
Vaida Shastra Pith and Hospital—294/3/1 Upper Circular Road.
Phone, B.B.4159. National Ayurvedic Treatment.
Out-Patients :—8 to 10 a.m. daily.
In-Patients :—Normally 75 beds. Visiting hours, 5 to 7 p.m. daily.
Veterinary Hospital—1 Ahiripukur Road.
Veterinary Hospital—429 Grand Trunk Road North, Howrah. Phone, Howrah
266.
Veterinary Hospital and Dispensary —Police Hospital Road.
Vishwanath Ayarveda College and Hospital—94 Grey Street. Phone, B.B. 1841.
Medical, surgical, obstetrical, gynaecological.
Out-Patients :—8 Co 11 a.m. daily.
In-Patients :—Normally 58 beds. Visiting hours, 11a.m. to 2
p.m. daily.
Voluntary Venereal Hospital—3 Bhowanipore Road.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
(BENGAL PROVINCIAL BRANCH)
Location :—No. 5, Government Place
North.
Hours of Business :—10 a.m. to 5 p.m.
On the outbreak of the Great War in
1914, there was immediately expressed, by those who could not go to the Front,
a great desire to help in any way they could. Lady Carmichael took the
initiative and formed the "Lady Carmichael Bengal Women's War Fund." Its early activities ere confined to the
supply of comforts to sailors and soldiers, and implements and appliances to
hospitals.
On the conclusion of the Great War in
1918, when the work done for the troops and the field hospitals gradually
decreased, the available funds were transferred to the Indian Red Cross Society
(Bengal Branch), by an Act known as Bengal Act VIII of 1920.
The aim of the Red Cross Society is to
secure the active interest of the greatest number of possible members, and to
inaugurate schemes which will be capable of instant expansion in case of
emergency. The work of the Society is therefore organised under five main
divisions :—
1. The Red
Cross Military Division (Literature for Troops Section) :—This division,
in peace time, carries on the work done by the Red Cross Society during the
war, in providing comforts for troops. It also deals with the collection and
despatch of periodicals, books and papers to troops in India, especially on the
Frontier. The Bengal Branch is the only Provincial Branch in India which
regularly and systematically carries out this work.
2. The Red
Cross Hospitals Division (Civil and Military Hospitals) :—This
division supplies comforts to Civil and Military Hospitals in Bengal, and meets
the salaries of nurses in mofussil hospitals.
3. The Red
Cross Health Welfare Division :—This controls work specially connected with
Public Health and consists of six sections each with a separate committee:
Section 1. Calcutta Maternity and Child Welfare Committee.
Section 2. District Maternity and Child Welfare Committee.
Section 3. Industrial Maternity and Child Welfare Committee.
Section 4. Bengal Health School.
Section 5. Bengal Health Education Committee.
Section 6. Calcutta Health Week Committee.
4. The Junior Red Cross :—This movement, which started in Bengal in
1931, has gained increasing popularity among the many schools of the Province.
Its chief aim is to develop in its youthful members the ideals of personal and
communal hygiene; it also does good work in encouraging the exchange of
correspondence between its members and those in other countries.
5. The Ambulance Division:—This Consists of:—
(a). St. John Ambulance Association, which for many
years has carried out the teaching of First Aid, Home Nursing, Tropical Hygiene
and Sanitation throughout the Province.
(b). St. John Ambulance Brigade, which provides the personnel of
trained men and women who are prepared to do duty as First Aiders on all public
occasions. In addition, separate Committees carry out the work in connection
with the following :—
1. The Sub-committee of the King
George's AntiTuberculosis Fund.
2. The Jadabpur Tuberculosis Annexe.
3. The Red Cross District Relief Fund.
4. The Association for the Prevention of
Blindness, affiliated to this Branch.
The Red Cross Society, working in
co-operation with the Association and Brigade, gives a monthly grant to St.
John Ambulance Sisters' Clinic for Anglo-Indians. The Society also assists
" The Ex-Services Association ", "Calcutta Hospital Day
Committee" and other societies in carrying out their annual street
collections.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
Visiting
Hours: —Private rooms 8-30 a.m.
to 8 p.m.
Alexandra
Ward (for children) : 5 p.m. to 6-30 p.m.
Other
Wards : 5 p.m. to 7 p.m.
In
Patients admitted : 8 a.m. to 12 noon.
Urgent cases at any time.
Out patients
seen : 8 a.m. to 9 a.m. (Sundays excepted).
Trams :—Kalighat,
Ballygunge, Tollygunge.
Buses :—Nos. 2,
2A, 3, 4, 4A, 5.
The Presidency General Hospital, overlooking the Maidan, occupies
a splendid site in large and well laid out grounds, and is bounded on the west
by Bhowanipore Road and on the east by Harish Mukerjee Road. The original
hospital was built on the site of a garden house, which was acquired in 1768.
The present handsomely designed building, airy and well adapted for its
humanitarian purpose, was built to the east of the original hospital in 1901
and has 168 ward and private room beds. The Woodburn Ward, erected to the west
of the main building, consists of 25 private rooms equipped with all modern
conveniences. About 50 yards to the north of the main building are the
Observation Ward and the Diphtheria Ward, the Cholera Ward and the Halliday
Ward, mainly for skin diseases. The Anglican Chapel and the Roman Catholic
Chapel are on the south.
The Presidency General Hospital has an outstanding claim to
distinction throughout the world, for it was in a small laboratory in this
hospital that, Surgeon-Major, afterwards Sir, Ronald Ross of the Indian Medical
Service, discovered in 1898 how malaria germs are conveyed by mosquitoes of the
anopheles breed. This epoch-making discovery is worthily commemorated by an
iron gate set in a masonry wall, to the right of the main entrance. Over the
gate is a medallion portrait of Sir Ronald Ross, and let into the wall on
either side of the portrait, are two marble tablets, one bearing the
inscription :—
"In this small laboratory seventy yards to the south-east of this
gate, Surgeon-Major Ronald Ross, I.M.S., in 1898 discovered the manner in which
malaria is conveyed by mosquitoes."
and the other :—
"This day relenting God
Hath placed within my hand
A wondrous thing : and God
Be praised at His Command.
"Seeking His secret deeds
With tears and toiling health
I find thy cunning seeds
O million murdering death.
"I know this little thing
A myriad men will save
0 Death where Is thy sting :
Thy Victory, 0 Grave ?"
This memorable Laboratory, now
the Hospital's Clinical Laboratory, is reached by the gate a few steps to the
left of the memorial.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
Trams :—Esplanade/Dalhousie-Shambazar.
Buses :—2, 2A, 13, 14.
The Medical College, the
Prince of Wales and Ezra Hospitals:—
Out Patients—From 8 to 10 a.m. daily,
except Sundays.
In
Patients ;—Visiting
Hours—5 to 7 p.m. on weekdays. 4 to 7 p.m. on Sundays.
The Medical College Group of Hospitals at No. 88
College Street covers an area of about 18 acres and is bounded on the north by
Colootolla Street, on the south by Eden Hospital Road, on the east by College
Street and on the west by Central Avenue. ,
The original Medical College Hospital, a white
three-storeyed structure in the Corinthian style of architecture, with wards
accommodating over 300 patients, open verandahs and an operating theatre, was
designed and erected by Messrs. Burn & Co. The foundation stone was laid
with Masonic ceremony by the Marquess of Dalhousie in September 1848, and the
building completed and opened in December 1852. The cost was met from the
balance of the money in the hands of the Lottery Committee, and funds from the
old and new Fever Hospitals, supplemented by a donation of Rs. 50,000 from Raja
Pertab, Singh. Wards for the treatment of tuberculosis and diphtheria cases
have recently been installed on the roof, while on the ground floor is
accommodated the Venereal Department.
To the north of this Hospital is the
This was built in 1886-87, with provision for twenty beds, by the
philanthropist Mrs. Moselle Ezra, in remembrance of her husband, Mr. E. D. J.
Ezra.
Adjoining the Ezra Hospital on the east is the
CHEST,
EAR, NOSE, THROAT AND DENTAL DEPTS.
Out-Patients:—From 8 a.m. daily, except Sundays. This block as the
original Eye Infirmary, built in 1891 and named after Sham Churn Law, who
provided the funds for its erection. A munificent donation by the
philanthropist Soorajmull Nagarmull has enabled the Hospital authorities to
extend the building in the rear and to establish a Chest Department, fitted
with operating, X-ray and research rooms.
SIR JOHN
ANDERSON CASUALTY BLOCK
This handsome structure, immediately to the south of the Medical
College Hospital, was built and completed in 1937, in commemoration of the
centenary of the College, and named after Sir John Anderson, then Governor of
Bengal. The department, which is open day and night, is a self-contained unit,
equipped with all facilities for the immediate treatment of casualty cases. In
the rear of this block is accommodated the Skin Department, open from 8 to 10
a.m. on weekdays. The Hospital's Enquiry Office (Phone B. B. 1076) is also
located here.
This red brick building, directly to the south of the Sir John
Anderson Casualty Block, was erected in 1910, with beds for 88 surgical cases.
In the northern wing, on the first floor of this Hospital, within easy reach of
the General Out-door Departments and the Electrotherapy Treatment Rooms, is the
X-Ray Department, open from 8 a.m. daily, except Sundays.
Out-Patients:—From 8-30 to 10 a.m. daily, except Sundays.
In-Patients:—Visiting hours—5 to 6-30 p.m. on weekdays; 4 to 6-30 p.m.
on Sundays. Children allowed only on Sunday evenings.
This grey three-storeyed building, situated directly to the west of
the Prince of Wales Hospital, with provision for 130 patients, chiefly
maternity and gynaecological cases, was built in 1880 to relieve the great
pressure for accommodation in the Medical College Hospital. Erected from
Government grants and public donations, and named after Sir Ashley Eden, then
Lieutenant-Governer of Bengal, this Hospital, consisting of a central block and
four wings, one at each corner, was at the time of its erection considered to
be one of the finest and most up-to-date in the world. Another three-storeyed
building, adjoining the original block, has recently been erected for the same
purpose.
A few yards to the south of the Eden Hospital is the Female Isolation
Ward, for the treatment of septic cases.
Out-Patients:—From 8 to 9-30 a.m. daily, except Sundays.
Visiting Hours:—5 to 7 p.m. on weekdays; 4 to 7 p.m. on Sundays.
This striking, commodious, three-storeyed building, occupying the
space between the Eden and Carmichael Hospitals, with the main entrance on
Chittaranjan Avenue, was erected in 1926 with provision for 140 beds. The
Infirmary is staffed with highly qualified eye-specialists and is fully equipped
with the most up-to-date apparatus, embodying the latest discoveries in the
field of ophthalmic surgery.
The row of buildings on the south, extending along Eden Hospital Road,
houses the nursing staff of the hospitals.
The average number of in-patients admitted to this group of hospitals
is greatly in excess of actual provision made, and the urgent necessity of
providing additional blocks and wards is under consideration. At present the
Sir John Anderson Casualty Ward is being extended on the south.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
Trams :—Esplanade/Dalhousie-Shambazar.
Buses :—2, 2A, 13, 14.
Out-Patients Department:—Patients are seen at 10
a.m. on the
following days for the diseases mentioned :
General Tropical Diseases—Mondays, Thursdays,
Saturdays.
Kala-azar—Mondays, Thursdays.
Diabetes—Thursdays.
Skin Diseases—Wednesdays, Saturdays.
Leprosy and Filariasis—Tuesdays, Fridays.
Antt-Rafcic Treatment:—These cases are attended to
at the Pasteur Institute at No. 2 Ballygunge Store Road. Open throughout
the year, including Sundays and holidays.
This world-famous Institution, at the south-east
corner of Colootolla Street and Chittaranjan Avenue, forms, in conjunction with
the Carmichael Hospital for Tropical Diseases, part of the scheme for
post-graduate instruction and research in tropical diseases. This scheme was
framed by Sir Leonard Rogers, and it is due to his energy and enthusiasm that
the present organisation owes its existence. Both School and Hospital were
built by contributions raised from public subscriptions, the Research Fund
Association, and donations from the Governments of India and Bengal.
The chief object of the School of Tropical Medicine
is to raise the standard of efficiency of teachers and to train research
workers. Large numbers of medical men from India and abroad receive training in
Tropical Medicine : in addition, there are special courses of training in such
diseases as leprosy, kala-azar, hookworm disease, etc. Through the generosity
of the Rockefeller Foundation, fellowships are granted to members of the staff
to enable them to visit Europe and America to study the latest technique and
methods of research.
The research side of the Institution aims at the
discovery of better methods of treating and preventing the great disabling
diseases of India. Each department of medicine has its own staff of qualified
experts under an eminent professor, who is a specialist in that particular
branch of medical knowledge. During the year the specialised work, discoveries
and researches of each department is chronicled in detail in treatises and
publications.
In the limited space at our disposal, it is
impossible to deal adequately with the valuable work and momentous discoveries
made in the field of medical science by the School of Tropical Medicine. We may
mention, however, that many of the discoveries of the School have received
world-wide acclaim : for instance, the work of the Leprosy Department and the
methods of treatment as laid down by the School, is known and carried out
throughout the world : while the carrier of Kala-azar, isolated as the sand-fly
in the School laboratories, is acknowledged by research workers all the world
over.
The School Library. This is an invaluable
collection of up-to-date standard works on medical science. It contains over
15,000 volumes dealing comprehensively with every aspect of Tropical Medicine,
in addition to other subjects.
The School Museum. This contains a wide variety of
pathological specimens and is of great use to medical students and
practitioners.
The School is affiliated to the Calcutta University
for degrees in D.T.M., D.P.H. & Hy., D.P.H. and L.T.M. The high percentage
of successes in these examinations is a great tribute to the efficiency of the
School's Professors.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
Trams
:—Esplanade/Dalhousie-Shambazar.
Buses;—2, 2A, 13, 14.
Visiting Hours :—5 to 7 p.m. on weekdays; 4 to 7 p.m. on Sundays.
This Hospital forms the other part of the scheme framed by Sir Leonard
Rogers for post-graduate instruction and research in Tropical Diseases.
The building, commodious and handsome, adjoins the School of Tropical
Medicine on the south. The foundation stone was laid by Lord Carmichael in
1916, and the structure, of modern architecture, was completed and opened in
the following year.
The chief purpose of the Hospital is to keep the research laboratories
of the Calcutta School of Tropical
Medicine in touch with Practical Medicine, and to supply suitable
patients for the study of the various diseases being investigated. Patients are
only admitted if found suitable and must have attended the Out-patients'
Department of the School or Tropical Medicine.
The Hospital receives difficult cases of obscure diseases from all
parts of India for diagnosis and treatment:
this is undertaken because of the extensive laboratory facilities
available, which are far greater than those existing in any other hospital in the
East.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
Trams :—
Esplanade/Dalhousie-Shambazar.
Buses:—2, 2A, 13, 14.
The idea of establishing such an Institution was
mooted as far back as 1860, when a Royal Commission visited India and
recommended the formation of a Sanitary Commission for the improvement of
health and sanitation. It was not until 1932, however, that the present
All-India Institute of Hygiene and Public Health was founded through the
generosity of the Rockefeller Foundation, who bought the land and erected, at
their own cost, the magnificent four-storeyed building at the north-east corner
of Colootolla Street and Chittaranjan Avenue.
The Institute works in close co-operation with the
School of Tropical Medicine and a number of investiga- tions have been worked
out Jointly by members of the staff of these two Institutions ; it is
affiliated to the Calcutta University for degrees in D. P. H. & Hy.,
diplomas in Maternity and Child Welfare, and other special courses. The
Institute comprises the following sections:—
Public Health Administration.
Sanitary Engineering.
Vital Statistics and Epidermiology.
Blood-Chemistry and Nutrition.
Malariology and Rural Hygiene.
Maternity, Child Welfare and School Hygiene.
The Institute has a staff of distinguished
Professors and a Library covering a wide variety of books on various medical
matters.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
Medical Care in the Calcutta Area. Each camp or staging area has its own dispensary.
In the city itself the General Dispensary is located at 77 Park Street (Dental
Clinic, too). Anyone needing medical care should first go to a dispensary where
he will be seen by the Medical Officer in charge; any cases needing hospital
care will then be sent to the 142nd General Hospital. Except in an emergency
demanding immediate hospitalization the above routine is to be strictly adhered
to. Short-cutting will only succeed in landing you back at the dispensary from
which you should have started.
(source: “The Calcutta Key” Services of Supply Base Section Two Division, Information and education Branch, United States Army Forces in India - Burma, 1945: at: http://cbi-theater-12.home.comcast.net/~cbi-theater-12/calcuttakey/calcutta_key.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)
May 9, 1945
[…]
Today cannot be considered one of my better days. In the first place,
I couldn’t get the group therapy class to respond. I’ve lost 4 of the original
12, and 2 more were missing because they had appointments. That left me with
six, only two of whom would open their mouths. The humidity was 85% the other
day - probably more this morning. Then, since we meet outside, the crows proved
a real nuisance, holding San Franciscan conferences in the palm tree under
which we were seated. (And to think I kept an Indian boy from killing a wounded
crow, or kite, or raven [or whatever they are] yesterday.)
(Source: page 150 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)
[…]
Today has been a beastly, hot, sultry day - one that I was glad to
write off forever. I was tired, worn out, and had a tummy-ache. But tonight I
feel better and look forward to the morrow. It would have helped if I had seen
your beloved handwriting!
Example of my life on the ward:
4:45 p.m. -Pause for several
minutes after two neuro-psychological consultations to talk over last night
with the Col.
4:50 -Pause again at
Ward 46 to see Pilgram about a patient and he's not there so chat with Howard a
second.
4:52 -Take Lancaster,
one of the n-p conferences, to one side to tell him of our decision to Section
IX (separate from service) him.
4:55 -Jim Beasley wants
to see me for a minute. He wishes to borrow 10 rupees to pay off a boy leaving
tomorrow. I take him into the office to ship him the pages.
5:00 -Little Miss Howe
peeks in (she was to be married tonight) to say she hadn't yet heard from her
fiance, who went to Delhi yesterday.
Hers must be an unhappy life though some of her kind appear to have
made a good adjustment.
The heat is most oppressive -- weighs down like a slab of rock on the
body, like a dark veil on the mind. It refuses to rain, and that is merciful.
This morning passed in a haze of interviews and dictation. One was for
the purpose of getting my views on a POW from the Houston, sunk March 1, 1942,
and in a Jap prison camp for 312 years. He became temporarily deranged about
August 4 after being brought to the 142nd. I declared him normal but there are
instances that smell fishy. He was only mistreated once by the Japs, claims the
Australian Medical Officer declared him unfit for hard labor such as working in
the Jungles.
He came to us weighing 227 pounds. When his condition is contrasted
with that of Wainwright and countless others, the implications are pretty ugly.
Nevertheless, indicative evidence doesn't count. He is rational enough now.
As usual, Woody Flanagan and I started for the EM (enlisted men) mess
to check it and eat there, when Ruth decided she wanted to go along. Needless
to say, she created quite a commotion, but the treat to the boys was
well-deserved, no doubt.
This afternoon passed almost as rapidly as the morning. About 4:00 a
terrific downpour started, the heaviest of the summer. Howard and I actually
waded a time or two when we went to quarters at 5:15.
(Source: p.203 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)
August 27, 1945
Dearest Little Girl:
[…]
As ever, I am still nervous, albeit I cover it nicely by easily
slipping from one situation to another without too much fuss and too much
hurry. This is deceptive, and does not reveal how agilely my mind is dogging
from pillar to post...but naturally I know.
Nor does it discover to others the vague unrest that has stirred in me
for years. I had thought that perhaps India would help me gain insight, but I
have learned nothing here that I did not already know. If anything, I find
issues somewhat clouded by the incredible things that I have seen in this part
of the world.
There are so many people here that just watching the crowds makes me
very impatient. Where are they going? Why? Not even their grazing sacred cows,
whom they reverence but let starve, seem as aimless in their goals.
[…]
Well, today during the last session of Group Psychotherapy, I was on
the ball and delivered myself of some rich sentiments. The class was large;
about 21 and they seemed to enjoy it more than before. But I am glad that it is
over in a week or so. I despise the stuff, what with airplanes whamming over
the hospital and trucks grinding by and gabbling natives working around the
area. It does no good to yell at the latter, they just look at you, turn away,
and continue their damned gabbling.
[…]
Night, precious sweet.
Dick
(Source: page 191 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)
1 completed my rounds and undressed
wearily at two this morning. I had been in bed five minutes when a call came
for me from Ward 4. An officer, a Captain Pfandler, was causing trouble, would
not go to bed, was cursing the night nurse and the ward man etc. By the time I
got there, he had quieted down. I talked with him awhile. Overseas two years. A
pilot. Jeep accident. Dizzy spells, sufficient to board him. Investigation over
some unmentioned matters in Burma. Ordered held by the authorities at the base
section. The Capt. was taking his anger out on us here at the hospital. Tsk.
Back at three to the Receiving room.
Finally to bed by 3:30, asleep by 4:00.
(Source: pp. 223 ff. 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)
Medical establishments listed are primarily places where American
soldiers, who cheated on their wives or girl friends back home by visiting an
establishment on Karaya Lane, could go and get "medically" cleansed
after such frivolity. The map may also have shown some facilities for emergency
medical treatment, too. I just don't remember.
(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)
You ask about a rest camp near Park Circus.
I was never there. It was primarily for use by troops fighting on the
front over in Burma and up in China. It was a place they could get away from
tortures of a shooting war and relax a few days back in something resembling
civilian life. Personnel from the 40th usually elected to go to rest camps up
near Darjeeling or down south to Madras when the opportunity came. Usually that
was about every 6 months and was for a week at the camps. Darjeeling was a favorite
because of the climate, however, Bond and I elected to go to Madras because
space there was available when we had time to go.
(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)
From the BOR ward…
Monday, 17 July: Time has passed fairly quickly
since our arrival. Staff change daily as most people either seem to be due for
repat. or their husbands are. Yes, I admit I am most envious.
At first, I was placed on the BOR ward, and were
the boys pleased to see someone just out from Blighty. Needless to say, I got a
terrific ragging about getting my knees brown etc. They were a grand lot,
really, but having discovered all there is to know about dysentery and malaria,
I now find myself on an Indian surgical ward.
…To Indian surgical
This in itself is an experience. It is very amusing
at times when I try my Urdu on the patients, and they their little knowledge of
English on me. Usually they win.
They are not really objectionable to nurse, but
they are very childish, with no desire to help their own recovery. They take a
great delight in asking for medicine and kicking up such a row if they don’t
get it. If one patient gets an injection, the rest of the ward yells for one
also.
(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)
It is difficult to spend three years in India without
health problems arising, and sure enough I found myself in Barrackpore Military
Hospital with Dysentery. Almost recovered, I contracted a fever which was to be
a scourge for the rest of my life. This was diagnosed as "Dengue"
Fever - inaccurately obviously, as it has plagued me in gradually diminishing
degrees ever since and Dengue is one of the few none-recurrent fevers. There
were so many fevers to be found in India that it was difficult to diagnose
them. Malaria is the most common and they all seem to follow a similar path -
headache, cold and shivering - and eventually it bursts into an almighty sweat.
Weakness and disability follow. The only thing that seems certain is that the
mosquito is the cause of it all.
(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)
The war in the Far East was going badly because money, men and
munitions had been needed in North Africa and Europe, but things were going
better in Europe and we were to get ready for what was called the Burma push.
And our whole hospital, beds and equipment were to move by train to a place
called Ranchi, near Calcutta.
Once we got started and organised in Burma we moved forward rapidly
and when they got Rangoon, a port, it was more convenient to send casualties by
sea, to Madras. So some of us were posted from Ranchi to Calcutta. One of my
jobs in Calcutta was to go to a convalescent hospital, which was a Raja guest
palace in Burracoti. It was the time of the 'quit India.' In every country,
there is a group of people that knows what is right and what should be done,
and that group is the students and they staged many demonstrations in Calcutta.
Nobody wanted to quit India more than the British Tommy; he was fed up with
taking meparcrien and fed up with Indian food. He wanted to quit India, so one
student demonstration along Chowringee, was chanting, "Quit India."
The British soldiers fell behind, shouting, "Quit India." And the
students wondered why everyone was laughing. I was at Burracotee at the time
that rioting started. It was well out of the town, away from British
settlements. Consequently, the hospital had to be sealed off and no one could
leave and no one could come in. So the nurses that had been on at night had to
cover the day and the next night, and I was stuck there. Calcutta is very humid
and you have to change clothes frequently.
My husband rang from Calcutta and said, "Are you all right?"
I said, "No, I've got no change of clothes, I only brought enough for 24
hours." So he said, "I will put myself on a convoy and bring
some."
The home sister who was imprisoned with me in the hospital said,
"I have a friend in transport who could move this hospital to that
building that the army has in Calcutta which was intended for the overflow from
the hospital, but he hasn't enough men." So when my husband arrived with
his convoy, I said to him, "We could move the hospital to the building in
Calcutta, but we haven't enough men." He said, "How many do you want,
80, 100?" I said, "100 will do." Next day, a convoy, lorry loads
of men and some 3 tonners, lined up. We put beds and equipment into the 3
tonners and went in convoy through Calcutta and the patients were put into the
other building. I remember saying to the quartermaster, "I've got 100
chairs for you." He said, "What do I want with 100 chairs?" So I
said, "I don't want them and you're the quartermaster."
The next morning, the corporal sent for me. He was not aware of what
had taken place. Apologising for me being left out in the sticks he said how
he'd tried and how the palace was unsuitable, but he tried to get the other
place opened, but it hadn't been possible. And when we finished, I said,
"I've moved it." He said, "Moved what?" I said, "The
hospital." "You'll have offended the raja," he screamed as though
I'd started a second Indian mutiny. He'd no more time for me. The silence
afterwards was deafening, but I heard an officer say, "Only a woman would
have got away with it."
I did not get a medal for doing what the colonel said was impossible.
I was court martialed for offending the Raja. It was only years later that I
realised that not only had I insulted the Raja by not waving goodbye, but I was
a woman and women are not highly regarded in India.
(source: A3890225 A Woman Doctor (Part Three) 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)
So there you are; however, I got back to Calcutta. I had
different jobs. One particular job I had was to go to a place called
Bhuracrutee, where a Raja had lent us a beautiful marble guest palace, as a sort
of convalescent halfway house in a hospital. We had got a building, which we
could have used; it belonged to the army, but they’d never been able to get it
sorted out. So, one day, I had to go Bhuracrutee, see to the patients there,
stay overnight and come back the next day.
It was the time of the ‘Quit India Campaign’, and this
palace was away from any western settlement. Rioting started, so it wasn’t safe
for anyone to leave the palace or the hospital to go out. The nurses who had
been on all night, had to stay on the next day, and the next night and the next
day. So did I. My husband rang me up from the fort in Calcutta where he worked.
He said, “Are you all right?” I said, “Of course not, I thought I was only
coming for 24 hours. I’ve only got two changes of clothes.” You have to change
your clothes at least twice a day in Calcutta. I said, “I’ve no clothes.” So he
said, “I will put myself on a convoy, and come and bring you some.” So the home
sister who was also incarcerated with me said, “I have a friend in transport
and he said ‘I have enough transport to move this hospital to the place in
Calcutta, but I haven’t enough men.’” So when my husband arrived, I said, “The
home sister has a friend in Home Transport who could move the hospital into
Calcutta, but they haven’t enough men.” He said, “How many men do you want?
Eighty? A hundred?” I said, “A hundred will do.”
So, he bought lorry loads of men in and transport brought
their three tonners; we packed patients, beds, equipment, everything into the
three tonners, went in convoy to Calcutta to the building which the army had
there, and ‘shovelled’ them all in. I didn’t tell the C.O., after all, the
administrators don’t need to know everything, but I did say to the
quartermaster, “I’ve a hundred chairs for you Q.” He said, “What do I want with
a hundred chairs? I don’t want a hundred chairs.” I said, “Nor do I, but you’re
the Quartermaster.”
The next morning, the C.O. sent for me and started
apologising, told me how sorry he was that I was out in the sticks; it wasn’t
suitable being out there, you know, a poor defenceless woman amongst the
rioting etc. And so, when he’d finished, I said, “I’ve moved it.” He said,
“Moved WHAT?” I said, “The hospital.” He flew up into the air. He said, “You’ll
have offended the Raja.” It was as though I’d started another Indian mutiny.
Well, perhaps……….I don’t know. It didn’t occur to me until years afterwards
that maybe I had offended the Raja, not only because I had moved the people
from his palace without saying goodbye, but “you had done it, a woman”.
It just occurred to me, years later, that that would have
offended him. Never mind, whatever happened, happened. The silence after it was
deafening. I didn’t get a medal for doing what the C.O. said was impossible,
and I didn’t get court-martialled for offending the Raja, but I did hear one of
the men saying, “Only a woman would have gotten away with it.”
(source: A3890225 A Woman Doctor (Part Three) 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)
Back to monsoon and some good news
Monday, 17 September: Back to the sticky heat of
Calcutta with the monsoon still in full swing — so much so that I’m expecting
to find myself floating down the corridor when I awake each morning.
I arrived back to find the astounding news that
Alan is home in England, and within half an hour of my arrival here I applied
to return home. It’s expecting rather much of the army, but a little optimism
won’t harm! Alan’s operations were wound down in mid-August, and he returned
from Australia via Colombo, Karachi, Basra, Cairo, Malta and finally to Lynham.
A rude awakening
Work does not go down too well after such a life of
leisure and pleasure, but there is plenty to keep me occupied on my Indian surgical
ward. Calcutta is just as crowded as ever — there is no joy in shopping at all.
I have applied for membership of the Saturday Club,
which is the only completely English club in the city. There is dancing every
night, and it possesses a very good library, an excellent swimming pool and
hard tennis courts. Matron recommended it to me, and it certainly looks good.
Moira progresses, and so do I
Monday, 24 September: Work has been plentiful this
week, and we seem to have had a rush of accident cases. Felicity has wangled
her posting and has gone off to Rauchi to join her unit, which will be going
‘Forward’ soon. Her cousin is going with her, and so she seems to be quite
happy.
I’ve been accepted as an honorary member of the
Seap and have enjoyed a dinner dance there this week. News from Moira appears
to be good, and it certainly is a good sign that she’s started writing letters
again.
Awaiting news of my release
Monday, 1 October: I’m patiently awaiting for news
of my release. Matron is back from leave, and she can see no reason for my
being refused repat. It is a cheering thought.
Night duty seems to be my fate on Friday! We only
do two weeks out here instead of four. I don’t think I shall mind very much as
I should think it will be much cooler than working by day.
Mail is very bad just now. I have not had any since
15 September. It is strange that some gets through all right — still I keep
hoping.
Caring for the British wing
Monday, 7 October: Night duty is going down very
well really. I’ve got the entire British wing to look after, which consists of
three medical wards (one of which contains 70 beds, while the other two have
about 40).
Isolation also comes under this wing, and here I
have a BOR dangerously ill with cholera. That keeps me busy most of the night.
Actually, I think he will pull through quite easily, tho’ I wonder if it will
be worth it, as he is under close arrest for murder.
The British prisoners’ ward is also under my
keeping, and I’m kept busy trying to see that the guards do not sleep! Two of
my four medical orderlies hail from Newcastle, and I can hardly understand a
word they say. However, they are good lads.
Suspected smallpox
Monday, 14 October: I’m now on my last week of
night duty. I really think I shall be sorry to finish. All my charges are
progressing favourably. Unfortunately, a suspected smallpox case has arrived
now, so I hope there won’t be any more.
Owing to night duty, much to my sorrow I had to
refuse an invitation to General Stuart’s cocktail party. Such is life!
Still no mail from home. I must say I have not
found as much time for writing letters on night duty as I had hoped.
A patient escapes, but I do not
Monday, 21 October: My night duty has ended, but
not without a spot of excitement. My cholera patient escaped via the ward
window and over the hospital wall on Monday night.
Fortunately, as there was a guard on duty, none of
the medical folks can be held responsible. I was busy in the next ward when it
happened, but I’ve had to attend a court, be sworn in and make a statement on
the incident.
The reply to my release has arrived with an
unfavourable answer. This has proved a terrific disappointment to me. Matron is
putting it through again, however, with a personal recommendation.
I’ve had two days off in lieu of night duty and one
for the month, and I spent most of the time relaxing at the Saturday club. I’ve
been too fed up to do much else.
Rumour that hospital will close
Monday, 27 October: Felicity has passed through
Calcutta on her way to Singapore. She looks very fit. Some of the other girls
who came out with us are with her, so we had a little reunion.
Moira is much better and is expected to come to
Calcutta at the end of the month en route for Ranchi Chest Hospital. Nothing very exciting has happened.
I’m back on duty in the Indian surgical ward, and
there is plenty of work. Rumour has it that the hospital closes on 18 November,
at least that is the last date for receiving patients. I wonder where we shall
all be posted to then!
A social whirl
Monday, 3 November: Social life is in full swing
here now. The weather has cooled a little, and the racing season has commenced.
The Saturday Club is very gay these days, and I dance there most evenings now.
Moira has arrived back and is about eight miles out
of Calcutta at the Woman’s [sic] Services Hospital at Barakoti. I’ve been along
to see her, and she looks very well. She is anxiously awaiting to hear her
fate.
Postings are the order of the day here, and the
staff are slowly depleting in numbers. Work is slightly more hectic again. The
mail situation has improved greatly, tho’ it is by no means perfect.
(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)
I was 21 when I joined the Army. My father had been in the
Army during the war and my older brother was called up to be part of the Navy
at 21. My happiest memory of being in the forces was seeing my brother in a
Navy hospital in Singapore. Before that I travelled to Calcutta, India. We
stayed in a camp. The uniform we wore changed from light brown to a light green
colour. At 120 degrees F it was stiflingly hot. I felt safer when I was given an
Identity Card. I looked after British and Japanese soldiers, and showed no
favouritism to the British — if a person was sick I helped them. I received a
Queens Medal Of Honour for my efforts — everyone in the forces did. I feel I
achieved a lot.
(source: A4276613 War in the eyes of an evacuee 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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Baldeodass Maternity Home
and Hospital—22 Nilmani Mitra Street. Phone, B.B. 568.
Chetia Maternity Home—10 Moyerpore Road. Phone,
South 696.
Kidderpore Maternity
Home—47
EkbatporeRoad. Phone, South 641.
Maniktala Maternity Home—237 Maniktala Main Road.
Phone, B.B.4212.
Matri Mandir Maternity
Home and Child Welfare Centre—128 Lansdowne Road,
Out-Patients :—7 to 10 a.m. dally.
In-Patients : —23 beds. Visiting hours, 5 to 7 p.m.
daily.
Ramakrishna Mission
Shishumangal Pratishthan (Maternity Home and Child Welfare Centre)—99
Lansdowne Road. Phone, South 1234.
This Institution was established in 1932 with the
object of educating the public about the vital importance of adequate maternity
and child care. to render efficient ante-natal, natal and post-natal care to
all mothers, and to train midwives.
Out-Patients :—10 to 12 noon daily. On Saturdays
and Sundays, 10 to 12 noon and 4 to 6 p.m.
In-Patients :—100 beds : 50 for mothers and 50 for
new-born babies.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
Bengal National
Nurses' Bureau (Day and Night Calls)—Phone, B.B. 2731.
Bengal Nursing Home,
Ltd.—5A
Beadon Street. Phone, B.B. 2018.
Calcutta Hospital Nurses'
Institution—Allahabad Bank Buildings, Royal Exchange Place. Phone. Cal.
2270.
Calcutta Nurses'
Association (Day and Night Calls)—65A Dharam tala Street. Phone, Cal.
996.
Calcutta Nursing Home—231/1 Lower Circular
Road. Phone, P.K. 391.
City Nurses' Bureau—I2/C Lansdowne Road.
Phone, P.K. 1217.
Elgin Nursing Home—5 &. 6 Elgin Road.
Phone, P.K. 442.
Ideal Nurses' Home
(New)—83
Bow Bazar Street. Phe., B.B. 1706.
Indian Nurses'
Association (Nurses and Midwives for Day and Night Calls)—49 Dharamtala Street.
Lady Lytton Club and Employment
Bureau for Hospital Nurses, (Yule House)—6 Suburban Hospital Road. Phone,
P.K. 1414.
Lady Minto's Nursing
Association—16/1 Loudon Street. Phone, P.K.1138.
Lady Rogers Indian
Nurses' Hostel—44 Elgin Rd. Phe., P.K, 1013.
Nurses' Academy
(Indian and European Nurses and Midwives for Day and Night Calls)—19 Colootola Lane.
Phone, B.B. 2731.
Nurses' Association—39 Harrison Road,
Phone. B.B. 5908.
Nurses' Association
(Sarojini Mullick's) Nurses and Midwives—, 51/'1A Corporation Street. Phone, Cal.
4545.
Nurses' Bureau—335 Upper Chitpore
Road. Phone,B.B. 114.
Nurses' Bureau (Miss
G. Browning's)—15 Eiliott Road. Phone, P.K.699.
Nurses' Corporation—58B New Park Street.
Phone, P,K. 486.
Nurses' Home (Day and
Night)—76
Harrison Road. Phe.. B.B-4411.
Nurses' Union (Sister
T. Ghose's)—1/1/1B College Square East. Phone, B,B. 5156.
Park Nursing Home—4 Victoria Terrace.
Phone, P.K. 531.
Riordan Nursing Home—5 Suburban Hospital
Road. Phone, P.K. 661.
Swiss Private Nursing
Home—1
Upper Wood Street. Phone, P.K,220.
Tropical Nurses'
Institute and Home—139/3 Russa Road. Phone, South 465.
Unique Nurses'Home—85 Bow Bazar Street.
Phone, B.B. 1930.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
When we entered
grandfather’s new house at 6, Lower Circular Road on April 1, 1941, the street
was purely residential with a sprinkling of shops opposite Karnani Estate. The
bus service along this route was a wispy one. The buses were regular but never
spoilt the peace of the locality. An Anglo-Indian family lived almost opposite
us. One of the girls, Esme Tennent, was devastatingly attractive and became one
of the nurses looking after aunt later on that year when she contracted
typhoid.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Samir Mukerjee)
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September 1, 1945
Dearest Ritter:
So beginneth a new month.
Last year I was still in Bombay.
The year before I was in Washington,
Pa.
Next year - in your arms, and the
place won't count! Well, that is something!
We have one more month of this rather
uncomfortable weather to endure, then the season will become nice. If our work
lets up sufficiently, life shouldn't be too onerous, especially if I can get
out to the golf course several times a week. I will begin golfing this
Wednesday, unless something interferes.
Today, Saturday, I went to the
general meeting which is held weekly in the conference room. This morning,
after an incredible interlude of an hour in which the RA doctors, with the
exception of Peterson, proved that they couldn't read English in attempting to
interpret a directive, an English lieutenant, who had been a war prisoner in
Siam since January 1942, spoke to us.
He told of the general bad conditions
under which they worked, the lack and poor quality of the food, positively no
medical supplies except what they bought themselves, etc. Since he was an
officer he probably fared better than average, but he had it rough.
Fourth-grade rice twice a day, with a little salt. That did it, and there was
no more.
Punishment for officers was usually
to stand at attention for an incredible length of time - usually one, two, or
three days...continuously. If the guard didn't like your expression, he slapped
you hard. Two of their officers were beaten to death with bamboo sticks; two
others whipped until they would be crippled for life, but they were taken away
and never seen again.
Since they were given no medicine,
when working in the jungle, the prisoners died like flies. From what little pay
they were able to get out of the Japs, they shared in the expense of buying
what drugs they could find to purchase. I believe the officer said that he had
had malaria 36 times in three years. Still, he looked fairly healthy when I
first saw him. One of the sabotage tricks used by the British while building
the railroad for the Japs was to carry the queen white ant and several others
wrapped in mud to the pilings of the trestles, plant them near the uprights so
the termites could eat.
But as harshly as the Japs treated
the prisoners, in a sense they treated their own soldiers worse. A Jap officer
or noncom thought nothing of knocking another soldier down, beating him with
anything he had in his hand. In Jap hospitals the Jap patients were given few
drugs, little medication, two thirds of an ordinary food ration, permitted to
talk only occasionally at stated times, and not permitted to read or write at
all. Since they were no longer of use to the army, they were not worth wasting
much time on.
This applied to the honorably wounded
as well as to others who sickened from malaria, dysentery, etc.
The Lt. told of seeing trains of
wounded Japs with ugly, dirty, bloody dressings;
unkempt; unfed. One man with an
arm-and-leg amputation had two bloody bandaged stumps, clutched a handful of
raw rice in his remaining hand (his ration for a five-day trip), begged a
cigarette from the hated enemy prisoner of war. He got it.
I am amazed at the equanimity which
not only the British but our own American POW's show toward the Jap when
discussing the hardships they underwent while in a Jap camp. I do not think
that they consider the Jap quite human. I am sure that they I pity him.
I finished a book this evening before
dressing. Talked with Pilgrim and Dols for awhile in the former's room.
Axtmeyer, Hines, McKinley, and Fischer came along on their way to the
club. I joined them for a rather careless late evening but left before they
did. Gus had returned from the Chinese consul's party at which he had met a Red
Cross girl. While we were talking, the gang mentioned above came roaring along
headed by Dols, who was more than three sheets to the wind. We got them out of
our room, and then they went down to serenade Whit, ended by squirting the fire
extinguisher on both Whit and Napper, which made both boys exceedingly angry.
Everyone thought it funny but they.
By 2 a.m. all had quieted down.
So much in love with you,
Dick
(Source: pp.197 ff. 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)
In
the 1930’s my parents lived in India. My mother had returned to Scotland to
have my sister but, due to the rumblings of war, it was decided that she would
stay in India to have her second child, me. Therefore a couple of weeks after
war was declared I was born in Asansol, West Bengal.
Although
we were not being bombed as were people in Britain, we did have worries as we
were not far away from the Burmese border and the Japanese troops.
I
have early recollections of there always being soldiers in our bungalow and, so
I am told, being thoroughly spoilt by them. Often they had children or
relatives of my age at home so perhaps I reminded them of their own families.
When
I was older I was told that these soldiers had been brought out of Burma for
medical treatment or leave from the front lines, my parents, like many other
people, took the soldiers into their homes for convalescence or just a break before
returning to the front.
(source: A7468716 Wartime in India 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 full of troops. The men
returning from the Burma front were in a sorry state. They wandered around the
market buying gifts to send home. My mother would intervene and haggle with the
shopkeepers on their behalf. Then she took the men home with her for a clean-up
and a good meal. This happened regularly - our house was never empty.
(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)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Apostleship of the Sea: Catholic Institute for
Seafarers—51 Ekbatpore Road,
Kidderpore.
Armenian Almshouse—18 Pollock Street.
Bruce Institution for the education and
maintenance of Anglo-Indian Girls—Writers
Building. Block No. 1.
Calcutta Muslim Orphanage—8 Syed Salley Lane. Phone, B.B. 2536.
Calcutta Orphanage for Hindu Children—12/1 Balaram Ghose St.
Calcutta Pinjrapole Society—34 Armenian Street. Phone, B. B. 584.
Calcutta Prisoners' Aid Society—5B Maharani Surnomoyi Road.
Catholic Male Orphanage—15 Portuguese Church Street.
Chinese Almshouse—16/1 Blackburn Lane.
Convent of Our Lady of Providence—75 Lower Circular Road.
DeSouza Charities—3 Royd Street For indigent Anglo-Indians.
Doucett Charitable Fund—3 Royd, Street. For Anglo-Indian widows and orphans only.
Govinda Kumar Home—Panihati. Phone, Barrackpore 51.
Gujarati Shree Jain Dharamsala—96 Canning Street.
Haranabayi Widows' Industrial Home—53 Hazra Road.
Indian Red Cross Society—5 Government Place North. Phe., Cal. 58.
Jewish Women's League—8 Pollock Street.
Loreto Orphanage (Convent)—! Convent Lane, Entally.
Mary Cooper Home. See page 152.
Marwari Relief Society (a philanthropic organisation)—391 Upper Chitpore Road.
Phone, B.B- 2990.
Mulvany House—11 Corries Church Lane.
Niawa Hitaishini Sabha and Orphanage—5B New Bow Bazar Lane. The object of this Institution is
: to maintain and train up helpless boys of Hindu families, to grant regular
monthly help to Hindu widows and to give occasional relief to persons in
emergent cases.
Rainkrishna Society, Anath Bhandar—17 Mahendra Sircar Lane.
Rescue Home for Minor Girls—43 Lower Circular Road. Phone, P. K.923.
Salvation Army Men's Industrial Home
for Anglo-Indians and Europeans
—173 Lower Circular Road.
Salvation Army Women's Industrial Home
for Indians—Behala.
Society for the Protection of Children in
India—24 Camac Street.
Phone, P.K. 2077.
Society of St. Vincent de Paul—3 Dharamtala Street.
St. Andrew's Colonial Homes (Kalimpong)—4 Middleton Row- The idea of establishing a
Home for Kalimpong School-boys in Calcutta, originated with Dr. Graham, C. I.
E., and the scheme was given a concrete form when Sir Archibald Birkmyre, in
1925, built and fully furnished for the purpose a magnificent Hostel, which
bears his name, at No. 4 Middleton Row.
St. Paul's Mission Orphanages—13 Scott Lane and 73 Serpentine Lane.
Stuart Clark Hostel—11 Mission Row.
Women's Friendly Society—29 Park Lane. Phone, P.K.
906.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
Central
Hall—37, Dharamtala Street
PUBLIC MEETINGS
Sunday—Holiness Meeting, 10 a.m.
Young Peoples Meeting
(Sunday School), 8-45 a.m.
Salvation Meeting, 7-30
p.m.
Monday— Vernacular Meeting, 8-30 p.m.
Wednesday—Home League (Ladies
only), 3-30 p.m.
Thursday—United Meeting, Music and
Speaker, 7-30 p.m.
The Salvation Army
Headquarters for Eastern India is located at 37 Dharamtala Street, a
three-storeyed building of modern architecture. A marble tablet at the
entrance, bears the inscription :—
"This
building was erected and dedicated to the glory
of God; for the Salvation of souls, by the aid of Army
comrades and friends in Great Britain and Calcutta, in
commemoration of the 70th., birthday of General Bram-
well Booth. 1926".
The Salvation Army,
established in Calcutta in 1888, has a splendid record of achievement and
endeavour. During this comparatively short period, in addition to Evangelical
Work carried on at 37 Dharamtala Street and 66 Circus Row, Park Circus, the
Army has founded the following well-organised institutions :—
The Training Garrison for young men, at 37
Dharamtala Street.
The Salvation Army
(Gidney) Hostel for young business women, at 38 Dharamtala Street.
Naval and Military Home :—a "home away from
home" for soldiers and sailors, at 2 Sudder Street.
Men's Industrial Home :—which provides
employment and offers night shelter for Europeans and Anglo-Indians, at 173
Lower Circular Road.
The Women's and
Children's Industrial Home at Behala (for Indians),
consisting of an Industrial Home, a department to deal with and house young
girls rescued from moral danger, a medical unit and an infant section which
deals with foundlings and orphaned babies.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
This Home, situated at No.
138 Dharamtala Street, was founded in 1872 by the late Lawrence Augustus
D'Souza, an Anglo-Indian philanthropist, who left a considerable sum of money
for its upkeep. This fund has been invested in Government securities and is in
the custody of the Official Trustee of Bengal.
The Home is managed by a
committee of Anglo-Indian gentlemen and is in the charge of a matron who looks
after the wants and comforts of each individual inmate. In addition, there is
an Anglo-Indian doctor on the staff who visits the Home twice a week and
attends to the sick.
The Home is exclusively for
Anglo-Indian widows who have no income or any other means, of support.
The number of inmates in the Home is generally 15; they are allowed out for two
hours every day and are permitted to go for a change for a month every year.
The Institution is entirely
maintained by the income derived from the endowment left by the founder.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
The Fendall Home was founded
by Miss Lavinia Fendall in 1878 as a Rescue Home for European and Anglo-Indian
women and girls. For this purpose, she bequeathed property at No. 68 Upper
Circular Road, but no form of endowment for the Home exists.
A generous donation from the
David and Rachael Ezra Fund, obtained through the good offices of Lady Reid,
has enabled the authorities to build an Annexe to the Home. This new building
has been named "Lady Reid Home" and is used for girls who are
convalescing and for other special cases.
Girls are sent to the Home
by various churches and social bodies all over India. A number of these
girls, who would otherwise have no opportunity of making good. are trained and
sent out as childrens’ nurses; while others, who can never become
self-supporting. are cared for and given such work in the Home as they are best
suited for.
The chief source of income
or the Institurion, apart from subscriptions, is derived from the work the
girls do for various Calcutta firms, such as the manufacture of jharans, tea
bags, bank bags, etc. The girls also do a great deal of fancy work, which is on
sale throughout the year at "The Good Companions."
The Home is managed by a
Lady Superintendent of the Oxford Mission.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
During the closing years of
the last century, there was in Calcutta an Institution known as the
"Dasaram," which provided a home for a number of destitute people.
This Institution was started and maintained by young men of the Brahmo Samaj.
After a few years of usefulness, however, the Institution had, for various
reasons, to close its doors in 1901. A Christian gentleman, by the name of
Ananda Mohan Biswas, thereupon came to the rescue of the helpless inmates of
the Asram, and very generously provided them with an asylum in a house in Ward
Institution Lane, which he named "The Refuge." Later, The Refuge was
removed to what was then known as the Moghuls Garden in Narkeldanga, a spacious
house with a compound, and in about 1909 to its present location at No. 125
Bowbazar Street, where from a small venture it has grown into a large
Institution, giving shelter to as many as 187 inmates.
The main objects of the
Institution are :—
To provide a home for
destitutes, invalids and
Incurables, without distinction of age, sex, caste or creed;
To help in the suppression
of mendacity; and
To render temporary relief
to persons in distress.
The Institution has been in
existence for 39 years now, and is, as Lord Ronaldshay on a visit described it,
"a haven of rest to all who find pity nowhere else."
The Refuge is managed by a
Court of Governors who, fully alive to the need for elementary education, have
provided two seminaries in the Institution, one for boys and the other for
girls. In order to enable them to earn a livelihood the boys are given
instruction in weaving, tailoring, carpentry, book-binding, shoe-making,
cane-work and other useful arts and crafts, while the girls are taught nursing,
tailoring and music.
There are separate
infirmaries in the Institution for men, women and mental cases.
The Refuge is maintained by
Government and Corporation grants, and public subscriptions and donations.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
The
Little Sisters of the Poor
In about 1882 one Mr.
Asphar, a wealthy merchant and pious Catholic, having seen and admired the work
of the Little Sisters of the Poor in Europe, conceived the laudable plan of
opening an establishment of these sisters in Calcutta. To this end, he
addressed the Roman Catholic Archbishop, Paul Goethalls, painting in glowing
terms the valuable service these nuns render the aged poor. The Archbishop, who
himself had felt the need of such an Institution in this city, immediately
communicated with the Mother House at La Tour, Brittany (France), on the
subject, and on the 30th November 1882 the first band of six Little Sisters of
the Poor landed in Calcutta, and these were reinforced by two more a year
later.
Against eight Little Sisters
in 1883, St. Joseph's Home today has 18 sisters, each of whom perform the
duties allotted to her most enthusiastically.
The management of the Home is invested in a Governing body consisting of
a Superioress, a Sister Assistant and a Sister Councilor. The Superioress is
nominated for three years at a time from the Mother House and she is called
"The Good Mother." To this small governing body falls the task of
maintaining order in the Home, and for this reason it is necessary to frame a
set of rules which must be observed for the mutual benefit of all. How
otherwise could contentment, health and cleanliness reign in a Home that
shelters about 200 aged men and women of all castes and creeds, and from all
stations in life.
"The Little Sisters of
the Poor" is their full appellation and they are a religious order
belonging to the Roman Catholic Church : they take the three vows of poverty,
chastity and obedience, and to these they add the vow of hospitality. This
association of Christian ladies leave their homes and kindred to devote their
lives to the care of the aged poor exclusively, and for the love of God devote
themselves to works of charity that are quite repugnant to nature.
Originating in France, the
early Little Sisters were nearly all of' that country's nationality : now they
are composed of recruits from all parts of the world, but all undergo the same
training and all speak French, which they look upon as the family language.
The present Home for the
Aged at Lower Circular Road is an ideal situation for such an Institution, but
it was not here that the Little Sisters' work had its birth in this city. The
first house occupied by them was an old-fashioned two-storeyed one situated
directly opposite St. James' Church. In 1887 the present site at No. 2 Lower
Circular Road was purchased, but the new building was commenced only sometime in
1898, when the Maharajah of Darbhanga very generously presented the Little
Sisters of the Poor with a sum of Rs. 10,000.
The premises, completed and
occupied in 1901, are admirably suited for their purpose. There are two
separate buildings, one for men and the other for women, containing all the
amenities which make for comfort. There are spacious dormitories, sitting
rooms, wide verandahs and a garden where the inmates can have all the fresh air
they require. There is also a chapel, where services are held daily, and a sick
room where the afflicted are visited by the Home's doctor and nursed by the
Little Sisters.
The Home is open to all
classes and creeds, and all the inmates are treated alike. At present there are
99 women and 96 men of various nationalities in the Home, all of whom are well
over sixty years of age. Everything possible is done by the Little Sisters to
make these inmates as homely and happy as possible. They are allowed to go out once a week, on Tuesdays, and receive
visitors twice a week, on Thursdays and Sundays, from 9 to 11 a.m.
The Institution is entirely
supported by public charity.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
St. Mary's Home, situated at
No 23 Marquis Street, is one of the oldest charitable Institutions in Calcutta.
It provides shelter for aged and infirm European and Anglo-Indian women, who
are either destitute or whose means are insufficient to enable them to live independently.
The Home maintains a
hospital with beds for 18
incurable cases, and a nursery for 14 children between the ages of 18 months
and five years, who are either orphans or whose parents are very poor.
In special cases the Home
admits working girls, who pay a fixed sum for their maintenance.
The Institution receives a
small Government grant, but is
otherwise entirely dependent on public charity.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
More than 70 years ago there
existed in Calcutta a St. Vincent's Home, the outcome of the Society of St.
Vincent de Paul. This Institution was first established in Bow Bazar and
changed successively from there to Hill's Lane and Circular Road and finally to
Diamond Harbour Road, Kidderpore.
In 1868, at the earnest
request of the Right Rev. Bishop Steins, S.J., the "Daughters of the
Cross," came out to India and took charge of the Home.
The "Daughters of the
Cross" is a religious order belonging to the Roman Catholic Church ; the
Society was founded in 1833 at Liege, Belgium, and though at that time its
members were all of Belgian nationality, it is now composed of Sisters from all
parts of the world. These nuns, by the very terms of the Constitution which
governs their lives, must in all their doings glorify God, by striving to imitate the life on earth
of Jesus Christ.
When the first three Sisters
arrived in Calcutta in December 1868, St. Vincent's Home consisted of an old
ill-ventilated house, and the number of inmates on the roll was 31 in all,
namely, 22 adults and 9 children. Today there are four large buildings, which
owe their existence to the indefatigable zeal and energy of these Sisters, and
the total number of inmates living on the premises works to an average of 424,
that is, 224 adults and 200 children.
St. Vincent's Home comprises
a number of departments :—there is the Home proper, really and truly a Home for
many a young girl suffering in mind and body. The aim and object of this
section of the Institution is to protect the spiritual, social and physical
development of destitute helpless girls of every community by providing for
them food and shelter and giving them a training in house-keeping, nursing,
needle and fancy work, cutting-out and dress-making, etc. Situations are
obtained for those who are fit to earn their livelihood, while others, who can
never become self-supporting, are cared for and given work in the Home.
The Home has a department
for persons of small means, chiefly nurses, matrons, etc., who are out of work
and are seeking employment. These contribute as much as their limited means
allow towards their maintenance.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
St. Catherine's Hospital for
incurables, convalescents, the aged and the infirm :—there are altogether 110
beds, some very sad cases, but everyone in the Hospital, though suffering in
one way or another, is happy to be under the care of the Religious Sisters.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
St. Paul's Orphanage :—this
was originally only a small building, quite inadequate for the large number of
children who sought admission. During their visit to India in 1911, Their
Majesties the late King George V and Queen Mary honoured St. Vincent's Home
with a visit, and the Queen very graciously assigned to the Home a generous
gift which enabled it to build the present St. Paul's Orphanage, capable of
accommodating 200 children. This Orphanage gives a Home as well as primary
education to about 180 little boys, who are either orphans or whose homes are
such as would leave them unprotected.
Connected with the Orphanage
and forming, so to say, the nucleus of it, is the "Creche," where at
present 20 little babies, varying in age from a few months to three years, are
brought up. Most of these babies would have been utterly abandoned were it not
for the home they find here.
The Daughters of the Cross
work for the poor of all creeds and nationalities. Their two primary day
schools are one, St. Mary's, for European and Anglo-Indian children and the
other, St. Victor's, exclusively for Indians.
The Institution is almost
entirely supported by voluntary contributions, donations and subscriptions.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
This Institution, now
situated at No. 130 Dharamtala Street, came into being in 1830 with the main
object of alleviating hardship and suffering among the poor of Calcutta. This
the Society endeavours to attain by co-operation with churches, charitable and
remedial Institutions, benevolent persons and agencies of all denominations, in
a far-reaching constructive.
The Society is under the
management of an Executive Com- mittee and a General Committee, while the
actual distribution of relief is vested in a Relief Board composed of members
of the various churches and charitable and remedial Institutions. This Board
meets weekly, and after careful and unbiassed investigation sanctions relief,
consisting mainly of food rations and medical comforts. In cases where families
in straitened circumstances are unable to pay their rent, the Board, after
satisfying themselves thoroughly, grant cash reliefs. Indigent nurses and
persons who have obtained employment, are assisted with a supply of uniforms or
their Railway fare to enable them to join work.
The Society spends no less
than Rs. 22,000 yearly under various pension schemes to meet the urgent needs
of specially deserving cases. Anglo-Indian widows, especially those with
children are, in approved cases, given regular monetary grants to meet the cost
of living, other than the actual provision of food. Europeans, and Anglo-Indian
widows of Europeans, are provided for under another scheme. The allocation of
such grants is in the hands of a Pension Committee, who takes the utmost care
in recording the fullest details and circumstances of each case.
The education of poor children
is another important aspect of the Society's work. Grants are made at the
beginning of each school year for the 125 children the Society now maintains in
various schools in Calcutta and the mofussil. Besides, a substantial midday
meal is daily supplied to about 370 poor school children.
Application for relief by
non-Christian Indians are received at 79 Upper Chitpore Road by Honorary
Secretaries and dealt with independently by the Indian Sub-Committee. Nearly
one thousand such applicants, mostly helpless widows and deformed and blind
men, receive monthly relief.
Other activities of the
Society include :—
St. John's Ambulance Baby
Clinic—at 30/1 Alimuddin Street. This Clinic fills a
definite want among poor Anglo-Indians by providing fresh milk for under-nourished
infants up to four years of age. The Clinic also imparts instruction in
ante-natal care, mothercraft, the care of infants, the correct kind of food,
method and intervals of feeding, etc.
St. Christopher's Street
Boy's Refuge—at 17/1 Canal Street. This provides a night shelter,
food and games for homeless Indian boys.
Tollygunge Homes. In the
year 1841 an Alms House was built in Amherst Street from funds raised by public
subscription, and the Institution placed under the management of the Commissioner
of Police and the District Charitable Society. This house was subsequently sold
in 1921, and with the proceeds land was purchased at Tollygunge, and the
present buildings erected and named the Tollygunge Homes. These Homes provide
accommodation for 67 old men and women who are kept quite comfortably ; there
is no restriction to their going out occasionally or receiving visitors
daily.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
With a view to removing the
ignorance and superstition in Indian social life, and for the social, and
educational and economic emancipation of Indian women, Sreemati Saroj Nalini
Dutt in 1913 started an Association in Birbhum. Before she could make
sufficient progress in the work she had undertaken, however, she passed away on
the 19th January 1925 at the age of 37. Thereupon her friends and admirers, in
order to perpetuate her life-ideal and work, founded, in February 1925, the
Saroj Nalini Dutt Memorial Association.
Working with the inspiration
she left behind, this Association has taken up the cause of millions of Indian
women who are labouring under the chains of ignorance, custom and superstition,
and has inaugurated a colossal movement for the emancipation and uplift of
women on strictly democratic principles through numerous sister organisations
both in India and abroad.
The Association maintains a
training school in Calcutta for imparting training in the basic crafts of the
country, and creates and fosters a large number of women's institutes. These
are purely autonomous organisations of women in which village women receive
valuable training in arts and industries of various kinds, in practical social
reform and in social and communal unity.
Since its formation, the
Association has helped in organising a large number of Mahila Samities (Women's
Associations), the value of whose work in fostering a new awakening among the
women of Bengal cannot be over-estimated. Apart from the fact that they serve
as active centres of welfare work in diverse branches, social, economic and
educational, they help to train Indian women In habits of self-reliance and
self-help. They teach them the value of concerted action, widening their
outlook and bringing new interest and enthusiasm to their lives.
Adult education, social
meetings, study circles, baby shows, baby clinics, maternity centres, first-aid
and home nursing classes, classes for training nurses and midwives, health
weeks and health exhibitions, cottage industries and exhibitions of arts and
handicrafts, represent only some of the manifold lines of activity a properly
conducted Mahila Samity takes up. Physical culture also forms an important item
in the agenda of their work. They have proved a powerful solvent of the Purdah System
and an effective influence against the practice of early marriage.
The Central Association at
present maintains a staff which includes three publicity officers and a lady
and 15 trained instructresses, for propaganda and training work on Maternity,
Child Welfare, Cottage Industries, Sanitation and Hygiene, Adult Education,
Social Reform, etc. The Association has further succeeded in establishing
friendly links with sister organisations of rural women in Scotland, England,
Ireland, Australia, Canada, New Zealand and the United States of America.
The Saroj Nalini Industrial
School is one of the most important branches of the activities of the
Association. Since its inception in 1925, it has been providing a complete
course of practical training for adult women, especially widows and women of
distressed circumstances, who are given training in industries, along with some
literary education. The subjects taught in the School are sewing, cutting,
embroidery, flyshuttle and durry and carpet weaving, knitting by hand and
hand-machines, drawing, cotton and wool dyeing, painting, leather embossing,
toy making, Jaipur bras s engraving, musicand literary education. The Literary
Section attached to the School is compulsory for every student. There is a
well-stocked library, and a Junior Red Cross Society.
The Association conducts
Bratachari Training Classes and publishes a monthly magazine, "Banga
Lakshmi," a powerful medium for propagating ideals of womanhood and
co-ordinating the work of Mahila Samities throughout the province.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
This unique Institution was
founded by the Rev. Lal Behari Shah in 1897 with a view :
(i) To
provide a home for the homeless and helpless blind, without any distinction of
sex, caste or creed ; and
(it) To impart scientific,
industrial and literary education to the blind with the object of enabling them
to become self-supporting members of the community.
The course of instruction
imparted at the School is divided into four sections :—Literary, Industrial,
Physical and Musical.
All pupils receive a
literary education up to the primary standard, the script used being the
"Braille System." Originally in French, the Braille System has
been adapted for many languages, and the School has the code in English,
Bengali, Hindi and Sanskrit, the Blind being taught to read and write in these
languages by touch. Students showing a special aptitude for education are
admitted to higher classes and ale prepared for the Matriculation Examination
of the Calcutta University. Some
proceed for college studies and generally do well. The Industrial training is
an important feature of the School. The Blind are trained in the
manufacture and repairing of cane and bamboo furniture, carpentry, coir-mat
weaving and weaving on looms, while the girls are taught knitting, the quality
of production being consistently high.. Students are also trained as musicians
and music teachers ; besides classical music, the syllabus consists of Modern
Bengali Songs, Caricature, Mimicry and Dancing.
The authorities, fully alive
to their duties towards the general health of the School, lay stress on
physical education. Simple exercises to
remedy physical defects, functional, transitional and mannerism, so prevalent
among blind children, have been adopted with beneficial results. Drill,
gymnastics, swimming, rowing, long walks and games also help to improve the
physique of the pupils.
Other activities of the
School include gardening, scouting, the Apprentices' Club, the Music Society or
"Majlis" and the Literary Society, known as the "Balyadyam
Sabha," which runs a monthly magazine under the name of "Arun,"
embossed by hand by the pupils.
The School in 1925 was moved
to its present site at Behala on the Diamond Harbour Road, where it is
successfully carrying on the great cask of educating the Blind. It occupies a
unique position among the educational organisations of the province and its
growing usefulness is borne out by the fact that, from one solitary pupil on
its inauguration in 1897, the Institution today has over a hundred pupils on
its rolls.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
As
early as April 1B93, the late Mr. Srinath Sinha started a class for the deaf
and dumb in the City College at No. 13 Mirzapore Street. This afterwards became
the Calcutta Deaf and Dumb School and was removed to its present address at No.
293 Upper Circular Road in 1903.
The
Oral Method of instruction is employed in teaching the students of the School,
by which they are taught to make themselves understood and to understand others
speaking by watching the movement of the lips. The use of signs and
finger-spelling is not permitted.
In
the Industrial Department of the School the boys are trained in the different
crafts, such as drawing, painting, papier mache work, clay modelling, printing
and tailoring. Instruction in smithy and carpentry work is also undertaken.
There is, in addition, a Normal Department to train teachers.
The
School is under the management of an Executive Committee and is maintained by
Government and Corporation grants and the financial assistance of donors and
subscribers. Among the benefactors of the School, the name of Raja Sarat
Chandra Ray Chaudhuri Bahadur of Chancal. Malda, should specially be mentioned
for his endowment of Rs. 2 lakhs and a further Rs. 20,000 towards the cost of
an extension to the present building.
Attached
to the School, is a separate hostel for the boys and another for the girls :
there are also residential quarters for teachers.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
at No. 4/2 Diamond Harbour
Road, is Mary Cooper Home.This Institution owes its existence to the generosity
of the late Mrs. Mary Cooper, who gave Rs. 1,00,000 towards founding a home for
aged European and Anglo-Indians who had been unable to make any provision for
their old age. A suitable building was erected on land donated by the
Government of Bengal and the home was formally opened by the Hon. Lady Jackson
on the 17th March 1931. The home provides accommodation for 32 inmates, both
men and women, who must be over sixty years of age. There are four sets of
married quarters, two sick wards and a resident nurse.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
[…] next [on Chowringhee]
comes Willingdon House, accommodating the Bengal Home Industries and the Good
Companions.
The idea of the Good
Companions originated with Mrs. R. D. Cromartie, who in collaboration with
Lady Benthall and Mrs. B. Studd, drew up a scheme, the aim being to establish a
departmental store in Calcutta for marketing
the products of Industrial Missions.
On the 6th January 1934, a
meeting was held in the Bible House, 23 Chowringhee, with Mr. B. C. Studd in
the Chair, when the scheme was officially discussed. It was decided to
circularize all available Missions and invite their co-operation. There was a
ready and enthusiastic response and the Good Companions opened its doors on the
22nd January 1934. At the moment there are 75 Missions on the list.
The Vicerine is the
Patroness of the Institution, which is managed by a committee of seven members,
and a working committee of eleven members, all honorary workers. The sale of
products at the Good Companious is voluntarily undertaken by Society Ladies who
generously devote part of their time as honorary workers.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
The second Christmas was
celebrated at the Birkmyre Hostel, Calcutta, where
Harold and Louise Fox were wardens, caring for Anglo-Indian boys who had
started work after completing their schooling at Dr. Graham’s Homes in
Kalimpong. Boxing Day saw me riding on a rickshaw en route to the Railway
Station in order to catch the train to Rawalpindi.
(source: A4175237 Grandpas 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)
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There is no welfare state in India and the relicts of the British Raj
fare the worst. My grandmother received an army pension for the duration of her
life - of thirty rupees a month which is about £ 1.50. My father, who had been
in the Secretariat as the Civil Service was called for over thirty years, received
a pension of One Hundred Rupees a month for the last few years of his life. He
continued working after they retired him at the age of 50 and worked until a
few weeks before he died of lung cancer, aged 74 in January 1968.
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Wherever you go, people may crowd around you, especially where
American soldiers have not been seen before. The only way to shake the crowd is
to go away fast. If you are in a jam, find a policeman. Don't try to fight your
way out. One of the worst things you can do in India is to lose your temper. If
you keep your temper, and remain good-natured, Indians who are courteous by
nature will respond. But avoid even good-natured rough-housing. You may
accidentally injure an Indian and trouble would result. Furthermore don't ever
touch an Indian's turban. It is sacred. Even the most playful touch from you
would be an insult. Address Indians with courtesy, never in such abrupt manner
as calling out, "Hey you." The word "bhai," or brother is
always safe and will not give offense.
(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)
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Native madman is allowed to
roam the streets naked, accosting cars, sitting down in middle of the street or
anything else that takes his fancy. How
he escapes being run down or run in by the law is one of India's mysteries.
(source: webpage
http://oldsite.library.upenn.edu/etext/sasia/calcutta1947/? Monday, 16-Jun-2003 /
Reproduced by courtesy of David N. Nelson, South Asia Bibliographer, Van Pelt
Library, University of Pennsylvania)
The indifference of the
passer-by on this downtown Calcutta street to the plight of the dying woman in
the foreground is considered commonplace.
During the famine of 1943, cases like this were to be seen in most every
block, and though less frequent now, the hardened public reaction seems to have
endured.
(source: webpage
http://oldsite.library.upenn.edu/etext/sasia/calcutta1947/? Monday, 16-Jun-2003 /
Reproduced by courtesy of David N. Nelson, South Asia Bibliographer, Van Pelt
Library, University of Pennsylvania)
(source: Glenn S. Hensley: Waifs looking for hand-out, Rr006, "Waifs looking for hand-out near Sealdah Station." seen at University of Chicago Hensley Photo Library at http://dsal.uchicago.edu/images/hensley as well as 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 and under a Creative Commons license)
In India you will see more
beggars with more pitiful faces and misshapen bodies than you have ever seen
before. If you give something to one a dozen others will crowd around you,
especially at railroad stations. Many of them are professional panhandlers. But
there are also many holy men - or fakirs - among them; religious men who have
given up their homes and possessions to wander from place to place, living on
the charity of the people. Some wear orange-yellow robes. Others wear little
clothing and smear their bodies with ashes. Most have matted hair, often worn
in a coil on top of the head. They may ask you for something. Whether or not
you give them anything, treat them with respect. They are holy to the people
because they have devoted their lives to religion.
(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)
At some time or other while you
are here you will witness the sight of a crowd of men, women, and children who
seem to move together like a herd of sheep. They huddle together, or they rush
across the street in a mob, or they gather in a group shouting and jabbering -
they are new arrivals in the city. Driven here by the famine, by flood,
drought, or other causes, they come from Bengal itself, from Bihar, Orissa, or
Assam. Homeless, helpless, hopeless when they reach Calcutta, they fare as men have
always fared, in that the able-bodied and the strong among them as usual
survive and soon find their way into the immense labor corps around the city -
the rest, they soon vanish - some die in the epidemics, others just disappear.
(source: “The Calcutta Key” Services of Supply Base Section Two Division, Information and education Branch, United States Army Forces in India - Burma, 1945: at: http://cbi-theater-12.home.comcast.net/~cbi-theater-12/calcuttakey/calcutta_key.html)
#18 of the nearly nude beggar reminds me of the nude female beggar
some in our squadron called "Nude Nellie of Calcutta." She was a
familiar sight around the Esplanade.
(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)
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.
(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)
Meanwhile the whole of Bengal was in the grip of a devastating famine.
People starving in the villages had rushed to Calcutta only to find the same
shortage prevailing there. The pavements and stations were crowded with masses
of dejected people, sitting, lying, helplessly resigned to their fate. The
number of beggars increased tenfold.
(source:page 100 of Eugenie Fraser: “A home by the Hooghly. A jute Wallahs Wife” .Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing 1989)
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Eugenie Fraser)
One moving scene has remained in my memory of two small boys, maybe
four and two years old, sitting close together on the edge of the pavement, the
elder tenderly embracing his little brother and trying to tell him something,
perhaps a story. They were completely alone in a small world of their own. I
placed some money on their laps and walked on. There as nothing I could do.
(source:page 100 of Eugenie Fraser: “A home by the Hooghly. A jute Wallahs Wife” .Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing 1989)
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Eugenie Fraser)
I had been purchasing wool in Dharamtala Steet and was hurrying along
the pavement, when my attention was drawn to a man sitting there with a small
boy beside him. The child’s head was resting on the man’s lap. The man’s face
was evil itself. As I passed the boy raised his head and looked up to me. I had
never before seen such grief and resignation in eye so young and then to my
horror I saw that both the boy’s hand had been cut off at the wrists. The
scarlet scars were still clearly visible. I was shaken to the core of my being.
The first impulse was to snatch the child, hold him tight to my breast and run
far from this obscene monster – run – but where? Overwhelmed by unbearable
anguish I cold only hurry past, crying in hopeless despair, “God, why do you
allow this? Where was your mercy?”. These grief stricken eyes stayed with me
for a long time and cans till haunt me. “Why is it Mother India, that you –
benevolent and kind – are also so coldly indifferent to the cruel exploitation
of your helpless little children?”.
(source:pages 100-101 of Eugenie Fraser: “A home by the Hooghly. A jute Wallahs Wife” .Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing 1989)
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Eugenie Fraser)
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!
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Geoffrey Kendal)
I would be in Calcutta about a month, I chink. I cannae really
remember. My impression of India was that it was a smelly, dirty, filthy
country, that every second person seemed to be a cripple of some sort. The
amount of cripples and beggars was just astounding to us. We'd never seen
anything like it. Men, women and kids. A lot of them had elephantiasis and
things like that. Disease was rife actually. It really was terrible. I found
that quite shocking- I couldnae come to terms with it at all. It used to
disgust me that these people should be allowed to get into that state. And
don't forget they were under British government. It was part of the British
Empire and this was the state of affairs. The living conditions were atrocious.
Sanitation was just non-existent in some of the native areas.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Ian MacDougall)
During this half hour a crowd of beggars would collect outside the compartment to display
their deformities, their stumps, sores
and sightless eyes and to demand
baksheesh in a penetrating whine — the
most nerve-racking sound on earth. If they got nothing, their whine
continued; if they got what they wanted, it continued just the same. When our
nerves were frayed beyond endurance,
the beggars would eventually depart under a shower of abuse, leaving
their victims feeling guilty, impotent and completely exhausted.
(source pages 7-8 of John Rowntree: “A Chota Sahib. Memoirs of a Forest Officer.” Padstow: Tabb House, 1981.)
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a
non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the
Estate of John Rowntree)
I spent about nine months in Burma in 1944 and I think it
was whilst in Chittagong we heard that the atom bomb had been dropped in Japan.
Shortly after the ceasefire we were shipped to Calcutta which to me was a real
eye opener. Having seen poverty at first hand in other countries hadn't
prepared me for the deprivation I witnessed in Calcutta. Hundreds, possibly
thousands of people were sleeping on the pavements with nothing but rags for
cover, and their larders were the dustbins of the hotels and cafes. There were
begging patches which had to be paid for and some of the disabled had primitive
trolleys to push themselves around on, whilst the blind and limbless were led
or carried to their begging patches.
(source: A7229856 HMS Tyne, Burma and India 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 was an old tramp called simply "Mackey"
who used to hang around Sandell Street. He was so dirty and his hair was long
and matted and he wore a dirty mackintosh (which is why I think we called him
"Mackey"). We all thought he was dark skinned but one day it poured
with rain. When the Monsoons came, it rained solidly for days at a time and the
roads always got flooded in Calcutta. Mackey was wading through the flooded
streets and we saw that his legs and feet were white and his hair, which the
rain had washed, was light brown. The kids in the street used to make up
stories about Mackey being a kidnapper and used to run a mile when they saw
him. I often wondered about him. It turned out he was a Scot – we never knew
what made him become a tramp and live on the streets like he did.
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(source: webpage http://40thbombgroup.org/indiapics2.html Monday,
03-Jun-2003 / Reproduced by courtesy of
Seymour Balkin)
(source: webpage http://40thbombgroup.org/indiapics2.html Monday,
03-Jun-2003 / Reproduced by courtesy of
Bob Sanders)
Townplanning — Calcutta had its first Improvement Trust in the Lottery
Committee, which came into being in 1827 and carried on its great work for
two decades. It was responsible for a great many improvements, including the
construction of Cornwallis Street, College Street, Wellesley Street, Wellington Street, Wood
Street and Creek Row and the erection
of a number of public buildings including the Town Hall.
The successor of the Lottery Committee was the Fever Hospital
Committee, which in its turn, gave place to the Board of
Commissioners to whom we owe Simms' Survey Map and a report on the
condition of the town in 1850.
The present Improvement Trust, instituted by the Government in 1912,
works in close association with the Calcutta Corporation, which contributes
largely to its funds. The Trust is a very progressive body and in the short
period of its existence, has carried out many improvement schemes in driving
roads through the congested areas, demolishing slums, constructing model houses,
widening streets, providing parks, correcting abuses which have been inevitable
in the rapid growth of the city and in ensuring that future development will be
along sound lines. The solid work that the Trust has done for the betterment of
the city, can hardly be overestimated.
One of the Trust's more important achievements is the construction of
the 100-foot-wide Chittaranjan Avenue, extending from Chowringhee across
Shambazar Street to Chitpore Bridge. In
different localities in northern Calcutta, the Trust has laid out several
parks, including the well-known Deshbandhu Park and the Cossipore-Chitpore Park
(156 bighas) with an artificial lake. A number of football grounds and tennis
courts have also been provided for schools and clubs in the locality.
To the east of the city, in the Park Circus area, the Trust has
constructed Syed Ameer Ali Avenue, a wide road linking Park Circus with
Ballygunge, and has laid out an extensive Park. known as Eastern Park. To the
south of the city several roads have been opened and insanitary tanks filled,
Russa Road widened in parts to 150 feet, Rash Behari Avenue constructed and
Southern Avenue laid out. The Lansdowne Road extension from Monohurpukur Road
southwards to the Dhakuria Lakes has also been completed.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
The elevated reservoir at Tallah, said to be one of the largest of its
kind in the world, is situated on the Barrackpore Trunk Road, a short distance
from Tallah Bridge. It consists
of a steel tank, 110 feet above ground level, supported on steel columns. The
tank is 16 feet deep, with a floor surface of 321 square feet and a capacity of
9 million gallons.
The north-east column was placed in position on the 18th November
1909, by Sir Edward Baker, then Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, and the
reservoir, constructed and erected by Messrs. Clayton, Son & Co. Ltd., of
Leeds, England, at a cost of Rs. 23 ½ lakhs, was completed on the 12th January
1911, and brought into use on the 16th May of the same year. Messrs. A. Earle
and W. McCabe were Chairman and Chief-Engineer respectively of the Calcutta
Corporation during its construction.
The tank is divided into four compartments which can be used
independently of one another, so that. one or more compartments can at any time
be thrown out of work for cleaning or repair purposes without any interruption
to the water supply of the city. The reservoir distributes water over a
distance of 522 miles of watermains through no less than 62,230 house
connections.:
The daily supply of filtered water for the whole city is estimated at
67,548,000 gallons, or an average of 25 gallons per head per day. The daily
supply of unfiltered water is estimated at 54,323,000 gallons.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
You enlisted men who have hit the city adorned with a bit of India's
own, try your American Red Cross Clubs for a free shower, with soap and towel
furnished.
(source: “The Calcutta Key” Services of Supply Base Section Two Division, Information and education Branch, United States Army Forces in India - Burma, 1945: at: http://cbi-theater-12.home.comcast.net/~cbi-theater-12/calcuttakey/calcutta_key.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)
Calcutta was, I had been told,
fun. A good place for a European
to be stationed, with lots to do, delightful clubs and a good golf
course. To the poor it had less
to offer and the homeless slept on its pavements and urinated in its gutters.
The city sprawled over the Hooghly Delta tike a disease — a dirty, overcrowded
town of slums and belching
factory chimneys. Scattered among the
newer buildings were the bustees — once villages, whose huts somehow survived
in the shadow of the tenements — where the villagers drew water from ancient
wells, and drainage systems had yet to be devised. At night the pariah dogs
scavenged for titbits among the
garbage, and the beggars rested from their labours. It was not a town to be proud of.
(source pages 9-10 of John Rowntree: “A Chota Sahib. Memoirs of a Forest Officer.” Padstow: Tabb House, 1981.)
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non
commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the Estate
of John Rowntree)
“Chowringhee
looked like any other main thoroughfare. It had shops, hotels and restaurants
down one side and a large open space called the Maidan on the other. But step
off Chowringhee and walk down any side street and you saw the real Calcutta.
You smelt it too. It was said that if you put your head out of a train window
when you were two or three miles away you could take a sniff and announce
‘we’re nearly there’.”
“In the narrow streets you
could see the reason. Piles of rotting vegetation stacked up at every street
corner and the local population chasing away the carrion crows, the kite hawks
and the pi dogs……or beggars searching for food.”
“Wandering about or sitting on the pavements were the white sacred
cows and everybody acting as though they were the elite of the city. However
inconvenient they made themselves they mustn’t be disturbed. You must step off
the pavement to get round them; the traffic must swerve if necessary.”
(source: A2808632 Harold P. Lees war part 3 The sights and sounds of Calcutta 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 is famous as having once been the capital
of India, once the second city of the British Empire and once known as the
'City of Palaces'. It is still supreme, as a city of quite unusual dirt. Every
day, all over the city, several millions of its citizens are filling the
gutters with every form of discardable litter. Everybody drops everything, no
one picks anything up. That is why Calcutta, despite the personal cleanliness
of its inhabitants, is, has been, and always will be, the dirtiest city in the
world. In the 1930s this irresistible flood of garbage was temporarily stemmed,
and the city, if not exactly salubrious, was not offensive. The instrument was
a small two-wheeled cart, drawn by a leggy little horse with the kinky ears of
the old-style country- bred. There were fleets of these, and by force of
numbers they emptied the dustbins and cleared the gutters before putrefaction
set in. Red roans predominated, wall-eyes were not uncommon and, since many of
them were entires, they were subject to gusts of waspish irritation, flouncing
and squealing and snapping at their neighbours. The rattle of their wheels and
the clatter of their little boxy hooves were as familiar a noise in the early
mornings as the spit and crackle of the high-pressure hoses that washed the
streets. It was wiry little beasts like these that had once made the Mahrattas
the scourge of Hindustan and panicked the citizens of Calcutta into digging the
Mahratta Ditch. But it was for all too brief a time that the ponies kept
Calcutta clean. Lorries replaced them—the European way of doing things that took
no account of customary perquisites.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Sir Owain Jenkins)
Fear of Japanese raids had driven ships away from the Hooghli, but the
traffic on Chowringhee was still promiscuous with honking lorries, pattering
rickshaws, lumbering bullock carts, and curious cabs with louvred shutters.
Dazed cattle had the right of way and I was all but lynched for colliding with
a cow. Rotting garbage overflowed from tins and
besmeared the pavements. Enormous rats proliferated. The stark skeleton of a
holy man with a chain round his genitals stepped superciliously through the
crowd and a dhoti-clad Bengali held an umbrella over his head when it started
to rain. The holy man's expression struck me as more self-conscious than aloof.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Harold Acton)
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Ambart, Dr. C., M.D.—19A Stephen Court, Park St, Phe., Cal. l5l5.
Anderson, Lt.-Col. F.J., M.C., F.R.C.S., I.M.S.—5 Pretoria Street. Phone, P.K. 293.
Baker,
Dr. J.E.G., M.R.C.S., L.R.C-P.—16 Park Lane. Phone, P.K. 1873.
Bardhai., Major P., M.B., M.R.C.P., F.R.C.S.—23 Royd Street. Phone, P.K. 189.
Berkeley-Hill, Lt.-Col. Owen, M.A., D.M.,etc.--6 Harrington Street. Phone. P.K, 676.
Bonerjee, Sir B., M.A, M.D., etc.—10 P. K. Tagore Street, Phone, B.B. 296.
Brachio, Major J.J.A.B., I.M.D.—5 Theatre Rd. Phone, P.K. 581.
Brahmachari, Sir U.N., M.A., M.D., Ph.D.—19 Loudon Street. Phone, P,K. 917.
Chakraverti, Dr. J., M.B., etc.—50 Dobson Rd. Phe., Howrah 166.
Chandra, Dr. S.R., M.B., L.R.C P., F.R.C.S., etc.—3 Chowringhee Mansions. Phone, Cal. 865.
Chatterjee, Capt. S.C.—4 Victoria Terrace. Phone, P.K. 331.
Chatterjee, Dr. S.P., M.B., D.T.M.—64 Sambhunath Pundit Street. Phone. P.K. 731.
Chopra, Col. R.N., C.I.E., UA., M.D., etc.—l Deodar Street. Phone, Alipore 278.
Dai, Dr. S.K., M.B., D.T-M.—65 Gokul Boral Street, Phone, Cal. 2535.
Denham-White, Lt.-Col. A., M.B.. B.S., F.R.C.S.,
I.M.S.—4 Asoka Road, Alipore.
Phone, South 386.
Domenicone, Dr. A., M.D. (Ear, Nose and Throat
Specialist)—12/1 Stephen Court, 18
Park Street. Phone. Cal. 633.
Galitaun, Dr. G., M.A.. M.R.C.S.. L.R.C.P,. etc.—34 Chowringhee Road, Phone, Cal. 2771.
Kelly, Major Eward, F.R.C.P., I.M.S.—9(4 Middleton Row. Phone, P.K.1105.
Kirwan, Lt.-Col. E-0'G., C.I.E., M.D., F.R.C.S.I.,
I.M.S. (Eye Specialist)—6 Little
Russell Street. Phone. P.K. 231.
MacGilchrist, Lt.-Col. A.C., M.A., M.D.—9 Mandeville Gardens.Phone, P.K- 523.
Mallya, Lt.-Col. B.G., M.D., F.R.C.S.E., I.M.S.—135 Lower Circular Road. Phone, Regent 460.
Mitra, Capt. S.C., M.A., M.D., etc.—231/l Lower Circular Road. Phone, P.K. 391.
Mukerji, Capt. P.B., M.B., etc.—26 Ritchie Rd. Phone, South 891.
Mulmy, Lt.-Col. H.E., B.A., M.D., M.Ch., I.M.S.—243 Lower Circular Road. Phone, P.K. 250.
Nairn, Dr.
Stanley, M.B., Ch.B., F.R.C.S.—9 Middleton Street. Phone, P.K. 2007.
Napier. Dr. L. E.—20 King Edward Court, Chowringhee Road. Phone, F.K.
119.
Norrie, Dr. F.H.B., M.D., F.R.C.S.—13 Harrington Street. Phone, P.K. 1631.
O'Connor. Dr. Maurice, M.B., B.S., M.R.C.S.,
LJI..CP.—2/2 Harrington Street.
Phone, P.K. 700.
Pegg, Dr.
Arthur, F.R.CS., M.B., B.S.—2;; Harrington Street. Phone. P.K. 700.
Pushong, Dr. E.S.—I Chapel Road, Hastings. Phone, South 583.
Roy. Dr. S., M,B.. M.Sc., F.R-C.S., D.L.O. (Ear,
Nose and Throat Specialist)—8
Esplanade East. Phone, Cal. 1549.
Roy Chaudhuri, Dr. U.N., Rai Bahadur—P70 Rash Behari Avenue. Phone, P,K. 704-
Shorten. Lt.-Col. J.A., B.A., M.B., M.R.C.P.,
I.M.S. (Retd.)—34 Chowringhee
Road. Phone, Cal. 2771.
Sinha, Dr. R., B.Sc-, M.B.. M.R.C.S., etc.—54 Garcha Road. Phone, P.K.2738.
Treu, Dr. R., M.D-—9A Lord Sinha Road. Phone. P.K. 1122.
Ukil, Dr. A.C.—3 Creek Row- Phone, Cal. 5629.
Voegeli. Dr. Martha, M.A., B.D., M.D.—l Upper Wood Street. Phone, P.K. 210.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
In Ranchi we had many friends. One of these was a Col. Berkeley Hill -
a doctor who was a pioneer in the treatment of mad people to enable them to
return to normal life. He wrote several books one of which was called ‘All Too
Human’ about his children. He married a Madrassi woman who had been a patient
of his. He himself was Welsh and sent his children (three boys, Sam, Owen and
John and two girls, Rosalind and Margaret) to England to be educated. He
advocated making children responsible at a young age and used to give them the
money to pay their passage and school fees. He said he was not disappointed in
any of them as they all learned to look after themselves. He died suddenly, of
a heart attack and we went to the funeral.
He had a vast estate in Tatasilvai a village outside Ranchi which was
again like an English country estate transplanted to India. In his will he
decreed that everything - down to the last spoon had to be sold and the
proceeds divided equally amongst his surviving children. Owen had been killed
in active service so this left John, Sam and the two girls who were nurses. His
widow suffered a relapse after his death and I did not see her again but John
was very enamoured of Ida and used to send her huge boquets of flowers and
baskets of fruit However, she would have none of him being besotted with Wahid.
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Butto Kristo Paul & Co., Ltd.—1 & 3 Bonfield Lane. Phone Cal. 4510.
Calcutta Optical Co.—45 Amherst Street. Phone, B.B. 1717.
City Opticians, The—Grand Hotel Arcade. 15/8 Chowringhee Road. Phone,
Cal. 1277.
Easter Optical Co.—306 Bow Bazar Street. Phone, Cal. 2016.
Edulji. K. & Sons—5 Dharamtala Street. Phone, Cal. 710.
Eye-Site—24
Lindsay Street. Phone, CaL 3848.
General Optical Co.—3/1 Russa Road.
Grinell Optician—44 Free School Street. Phone, Cal. 6215.
James Murray & Co.—5 Old Court House Street. Phe., Cal. 1216.
Lawrence & Mayo. Ltd.—11 Government Place East. Phe., Cal. 872.
National Optical Co.—14 Bow Bazar Street. Phone, Cal. 957.
Optico, Dr. Juan's—11 Esplanade Corner, East, Phone, Cal. 1497.
Manufacturing House—309 Bow Bazar Street. Phone, Cal. 3684.
Optik Haus—ll
Esplanade East. Phone, Cal. 3399,
Optikovue—42
Dharamtala Street. Phone, Cal. 6239.
Presidency Pharmacy—205 Cornwallis Street. Phone, B.B. 1752.
Stephens & Co. —23 Chowringhee Road. Phone, Cal. 5052.
Walter Buthnell, Ltd.—21 Old Court House Street. Phe., Cal. 1859.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
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Ahmed, Dr.R., D.D.S., F.LC.D.—12/1 Esplanade East. Phone. Cal. 4785.
Ali, Dr. M.S., L.D.Sc.—38 Wellesley Street. Phone, P.K. 554.
Amkam Dental Clinic, (M.K. Mehta)—11 Lindsay St. Phe., Cal. 5896.
Barory, Dr. N.C., D.D.S.—B2 Bharat Bhawan, Meredith Street. Phone,
Cal. 4766.
Bose, Dr.
A.N., L.D.S., R.F.P.S.—26 Chowringhee Road. Phone, Cal. 4763.
Calcutta Dental College and Hospital. Page 193.
City Dental College and Hospital—24/2 Cornwallis Street Phone, B.B,
3933.
Constantinides, Dr. G.E., D.D.S.—35 Chowringhee Road. Phone, Cal. 4398.
Doctor, Dr. P.M., D.M.D.—1B Little Russell Street, Phe., P.K. 10.
Duncan Bros. (Dentists)—1 Corporation Street. Phone, Cal. 584.
Enversaid. Dr., D.E.D.P.—7 Park Mansions, 57 Park Street Phone, Cal.
1656.
Gerber, Dr. W. L., D.M.D.—Z5 Stephen Court, Park
Street. Phone, Cal. 4546.
Jennings, Dr. B.R., L.D.S., R.C.S.—39 Chowringhee Road. Phone, Cal.
137.
Laha, Dr., & Sons (Dentists)—52 College Street. Phone, B.B. 4227.
Metropolitan Dental Co. (Dr. Winster)—2 Corporation Street. Phone, Cal. 2050.
Neogi, Dr. S.P., D.D.S.—8/1 Esplanade East. Phone. Cal. 2614.
Nippon Dental Surgery (Dr. T. Watanabe, D.D.S.)—20 Park Street. Phone Cal, 3518.
Parsee Dental Hall—8 Esplanade East. Phone, Cal. 2702.
Smith Bros, Ltd.—9 Chowringhee Road- Phone, Cal. 4738.
Taylor. Dr. H.A., L.D.S., R.C.S.—39 Chowringhee Road. Phone, Cal. 137.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with John Barry 1940)
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While commenting on great subjects, the "massage parlors"
down by the Hooghly Bridge were always good for some interesting photos.
Sometimes healthy-looking rickshaw pullers would stop there to have their feet
soothed with oils of some kind. Their skin would glisten when a treatment was
finished. If I hadn't been so reluctant, I'd have enjoyed taking off my shoes
and letting the massage people go to work on me, too.
(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)
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