-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Home
● Sitemap ●
Reference ●
Last
updated: 19-May-2009
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If there
are any technical problems, factual inaccuracies or things you have to add,
then please contact the group
under info@calcutta1940s.org
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At first even the Pacific war had
seem far away, with the fall of Hong Kong sad but not too unexpected. In the
early months of 1942 this all changed. In short succession the Japanese managed
to overrun the European possessions in South-East Asia. The fall of the
fortress city of Singapore was great shock and in less than a month Rangoon
also had fallen, and by the end of March the Japanese had reached India near
Chittagong and the on the Andamans.
Would Calcutta be next? Would there
be a panic; would the British and their allies fight; would the independence
movement welcome the Japanese?
In the meantime there were many
refugees from Burma with horrific tales to tell, many relatives were trapped,
missing or killed behind enemy lines and in the city itself some fifth
columnists working for the Axis.
Calcutta had suddenly found itself
on the front line facing the march of a seemingly unstoppable enemy.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(source: personal
scrapbook kept by Malcolm
Moncrieff Stuart O.B.E., I.C.S. seen on 20-Dec-2005 /
Reproduced by courtesy of Mrs. Malcolm Moncrieff Stuart)
Earlier in the year, before the fall of Singapore, an English regiment arrived. The men were put in tents on the Barrackpore Golf Course. The following day when walking past, Ron and I stopped to speak to two of the boys. They had almost been eaten alive by mosquitoes – their poor legs were inflamed and covered by blisters. We invited them to come along to our house, which they did and were exceedingly grateful for the hot bath, a good meal and having their legs dressed. We did not see them again as they had all left for what turned out to be Singapore where they arrived in time for the fall of the town and the humiliating surrender to the Japanese.
(source:page 92 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)
In our district many of the women, including me, attended lectures organized by the St John’s Ambulance Corps. Later we were examined by the Military Doctor. Like all those who passed, I was very pleased to receive my certificate.
(source:page 92 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)
A Soldiers’ Club was formed in one of the old houses in Barrackpore. Groups of some six or more ladies from the various compounds attended in turn each night for voluntary work there. Tea and cool lime drinks were provided free and for a few annas; sandwiches, cookies, fish and chips were offered to the men. It was quite hard work for us especially during the hot season, but much appreciated by the soldiers who flocked to the club in large numbers.
(source:page 92 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)
Not least important was the newly formed contingent of women willing to fight the enemy if need be. I do not know whose mighty brain produced this child and named it the Bengal Ladies’ Artillery but a large number of women responded to the call with great enthusiasm - and I was one of them.
We were measured for khaki trousers and shirts to match and ordered to wear topis which was not in accordance with the Military Doctor who in his lectures told us that topis were no longer necessary as there was no such thing s sunstroke, but heatstroke, a statement soon to be confirmed with the arrival of the American soldiers who wore no topis.
Twice weekly transport was provided by the military to take us to and from the parade ground in Barrackpore. A young and rather bold sergeant-major taught us drill and wasn’t sparing in his comments on our behaviour and deportment. W had to learn how to use a rifle. The Lewis gun also came into the picture and there it wasn’t just sufficient to know the usage, but to be able to dismantle and assemble it within a give time. Not being mechanically minded I was astonished at the ability so many of the girls possessed and with what amazing speed each piece was named as it was placed in proper order. There was no hope for my competing with such efficiency, but I did redeem myself a little on the range where by some miracle I was lucky enough to score a higher count than most of them.
(source:pages 92-93 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)
Calcutta was full of soldiers and army trucks went up and down all day long.
Dum Dum airport in 1942-46 was one of the busiest airports in the world.
(source: A5756150 The bombing of Calcutta by the Japanese 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 all issued with little shouder bags that contained a gas mask, a large square rubber to place in the mouth (to absorb shock), a square bicycle lamp, a first-aid tin box, a pencil and notepad, some ointments in tubes and a tiny bottle of smelling salts.... oh and a football ref's whistle.
We had drill practise following assembly. We had to learn how to breath in the masks while running and jumping about: not as easy as it looks because we kept 'misting up' and smashing into one another. We really enjoyed squeezing ointments onto one another and taking sniffs of the smelling salts. If you sniffed to hard your eyes nearly shot out of their sockets and there were enough tear drops to make a few cups of tea.
(source: A2780534 My Wartime Childhood in Calcutta, 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)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The world and World War II
changed last week. By their conquest of Java, the Japanese split the far Pacific.
Its vast expanses ceased to exist as a single Allied war area. The great zone
of strategy, action and command became a set of separated zones. Inevitably, in
advance of Java's fall, the Allies dissolved the unified system of command
which they had established to direct the far Pacific war from Java. General Sir
Archibald Wavell, the Supreme Commander, flew in a U.S. plane from Java to
Ceylon, then to India and Burma, then into China, then back to India. Like
writing on a wall, his travels traced the perils which the U.S., Great Britain
and their allies must now face, the changes which they must deal with and
somehow use for victory.
Wavell for India. Of all
the new zones of war, India was suddenly paramount. As a central Allied base
for supplies and offensive action, it loomed even above remote Australia (see
p. 21). To hold India, to bring its masses into the war, Britain must pay a
price, both politically (see ,p. 26) and militarily. General Wavell, therefore,
was taking no back seat when he resumed his command of India's (and Burma's)
forces.
The Allies had to write
off southern Burma (see p. 20). General Wavell now had to prepare the defenses
of India proper. Defending India, he also defends China and its last supply
routes. He defends Russia on India's north. He defends Suez and the Middle East
from an east-west Nazi-Japanese pincer. Above all, for the final phase of World
War II, he defends in India a necessary Allied supply center and base for
future offensive action through China.
Ceylon for Wavell. At the
southern nub of India, where the Indian Ocean meets the Bay of Bengal and the
Arabian Sea, lies a focal center of General Wavell's task: Britain's island of
Ceylon.
Holding Ceylon, Wavell
holds the sea entrances to India's eastern ports (Madras and Calcutta) which
are also inlets for China's supplies. On Ceylon is Trincomalee, Britain's
secondary naval base, immensely important now that Singapore is gone.
Trincomalee is now the Allies' only useful naval base north of Capetown and east
of Suez. Whoever holds Trincomalee and Ceylon's airdromes holds the key to the
Indian Ocean and all its vital sea routes between Africa, Australia, India and
the Middle East. Without Trincomalee and Ceylon, the Japanese can make Allied
transport in the Indian Ocean dangerous and expensive. With Ceylon, they could
make it almost impossible.
Last week, when the Japs
bombed the Andaman Islands in the Bay of Bengal, they were softening up a way
station on the invasion road to Ceylon. And Ceylon, just 60 miles off southern
India, is a way to invasion of India itself. It could even be a substitute for
invasion. With eastern India bottled up, with ships and planes in position on
Ceylon to raid even the Indian routes to the vital ports of Bombay and Karachi on
the Arabian Sea, Japan could well let India soften and crumble under blockade.
Chiang for China. When
General Wavell landed at Lashio in China, he did not receive Generalissimo
Chiang Kaishek. The Generalissimo received Wavell. The meeting was a seal upon
China's final admission to full estate among the Allies. It was also a belated
recognition that China may yet be the only front for a direct land and air
assault on Japan, that planes and tanks and heavy artillery for China may yet
make the difference between victory and defeat in the Far East.
Australians for Australia.
Simply by omitting Australia from his prodigious swing, General Wavell accented
that menaced Dominion's status as an important and lonely zone. Even as the
unified Command was dissolving, Australians complained that it had never been
wholly unified or wholly effective. They took command of Australia for
themselves, with their tough, hard-talking, fast-moving Lieut. General Sir Iven
Mackay at the top. No sooner had they done so than the Jap appeared on the
horizon (see p. 21).
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Time Magazine)
Allied experts who once
boasted that oil would win the war began to realize last week that the oil may
get into the wrong hands. It was a rude awakening.Before Pearl Harbor the U.S.
and Britain's fleets drew on the vast oil fields of the Western Hemisphere.
Soviet Russia and the Armies of the Middle East had Baku and Batum. Australia,
Hong Kong and Singapore were next door to the Dutch East Indies. The anti-Axis
powers of the world controlled 97.5% of world production. It was as simple as
that.
But the Japanese have
closed the United Nations' filling station in the far Pacific. Adolf Hitler, if
he drives into the Middle East, may capture Baku and Batum. Then the Axis would
not only have oil enough for its war machine (after destroyed mills and refineries
are repaired), but would force the United Nations into complete dependence on
the Western Hemisphere.
Oil there is in the
Western Hemisphere aplenty: last year's production was 1,761,951,000 barrels,
78% of world production. But nearly 7,000 miles of water -a four months' round
trip for a fast tanker -lie between San Francisco and Melbourne. India's port
of Calcutta is 16,425 miles from San Francisco. It is 4,673 miles from New York
to Archangel. And all these trips will require some convoying.
Last week the Navy
Department's count of tankers lost in the western Atlantic since Dec. 7 reached
17, an average of six a month. Although tanker production during 1941 was only
15 ships, 1942-43 calls for 215 new vessels, an average of 18 a month. But even
these promising figures could not overcome the chill fact that the onetime
Allied trump card, oil, was no longer a trump. The submarines that smacked
shells at the refineries of Aruba and California were probing for vital or
gans, for these refineries produce high-octane aviation gasoline, of which the
hemisphere has none too much. Grumped the New York Herald Tribune's old
Columnist Mark Sullivan: "It is by far the greatest problem of
transportation and supply -what experts call 'logistics' -ever faced by any
nation at war."
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Time Magazine)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(source: personal
scrapbook kept by Malcolm
Moncrieff Stuart O.B.E., I.C.S. seen on 20-Dec-2005 /
Reproduced by courtesy of Mrs. Malcolm Moncrieff Stuart)
INDIA will long remember gratefully the visit of Marshal Chiang Kai-shek and his wife. They came at a critical hour in the history of India and China and their visit will itself help to make the future history of both countries. The Generalissimo has sought information which is vital. He must have wished to know what is the position in China's rear. Japan has turned her flank and both by land and sea has made a threatening advance in her rear. The importance for China of Burma needs no emphasizing and now there can be few who do not see the importance of India and also the danger to India herself.
To know where India stands, how solid she is in support and, if not solid, how she can become so, what potentiality and resources she can be counted on to develop and contribute, what is the country's morale—all this information is vital for China. To discover or uncover the truth the Marshal has to confer not only with the civil and military authorities but also with the representatives of parties and with people in different walks of life. His inspiring farewell message and Madame Chiang Kai-shek's address at Santiniketan show that they made good use of their time. They are not satis6ed with what they found. '
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with The Statesman)
The Burma Road was cut. Japanese dominance in the Bay of Bengal left
India's naked eastern coast exposed to attack from the sea. Rangoon was on
fire. Reinforcements now would be too late.
On the muddy Sittang River flats, east of the Burma Road and a scant 60
miles north of Rangoon, the outnumbered defenders fought on bravely under
General Sir Alan Fleming Hartley. A north-south British Imperial line west of the
Sittang held under repeated Japanese assaults. Fresh divisions of tough Chinese
troops were reported on the way down the Burma Road.
Toward Rangoon. The Jap had not reached Burma first, but he did have the
mostest men. When the fiercely fighting, outnumbered defenders succeeded at
times in stopping his slow push toward Rangoon, he simply slackened his fire,
tightened his lines and waited for reinforcements from occupied Siam. When
Allied fighter planes, notably those manned by American Volunteer Group pilots,
scored heavily against him aloft, he prudently lessened his aerial activity.
His lightly clad, lightly armed soldiers advanced through dense jungles and
across three rivers. Additional reinforcements had been released by Singapore's
fall for the thrust at Rangoon.
An American pilot, after visiting four large Burma towns, told U.P.
Correspondent Karl Eskelund that many Burmese had sold out to the invader. His
report: "Natives in many districts have rebelled and are killing unarmed
Britishers. The Burmese are assisting the advancing Japanese in every possible
way. . . . Rangoon is a horrible place. Foreigners risk their lives when they
walk in the city, which is completely in the hands of looters and killers who
are running amok."
Death of a City. Rangoon presented a sorry picture. Evacuation of the
city continued, thousands of refugees streaming out along two roads to northern
India. Authorities dealt summarily with looters and "incendiarists."
but the situation appeared well out of hand. This time the scorched-earth
policy was really being applied: wharves, mills, storage tanks, vast supplies
of rice, a wealth of U.S. material destined for China were in flames. Because
there was no time to assemble them. 100 General Motors trucks, which had been
destined for service with Generalissimo Chiang Kaishek, were destroyed. The
conquerors of once-beautiful Rangoon would find a looted, smoking city.
And it was not likely that the Japanese would do much, at first, about
rehabilitating and repairing Rangoon. Their task was to consolidate their gains
in southern Burma, to control the Indian Ocean, to see to it that China's
supply lines were neither reopened nor revised. Two bombing attacks on Port
Blair, capital city of the Andaman Islands, famed Indian penal colony and
weather observatory sites in the Bay of Bengal, served notice as to which job
the Japanese will tackle first.
With these islands as aerial and naval bases, they would be within
bombing dis tance of Calcutta and Chittagong, Indian ports for the new highway
linking Assam Province in India to Sikang in China.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Time Magazine)
Rangoon was a grave. The
roads of southern Burma were alive with miserable Indian thousands, in flight both from the Japanese
and from long-knived Burmese nationalists. To
every white man they saw, the Indians lifted dark hands, dark faces, and
cried "Sahib! Sahib!" They
cried for water, for money, for safety from the lurking dacoits who knifed and stripped the stragglers.
They cried in vain. The
white men also were in flight from southern Burma. Some stayed in Rangoon, to shoot Burmese looters and hold to
the last, until the Japs finally entered
this week, the remnants of that golden city. British and Indian troops
fought, fell back, fought again. British
crews arrived with a few U.S. tanks-too few. U.S. pilots in China's American Volunteer Group had to abandon
Rangoon, after taking a heavy toll of Japanese
planes with the few bullet-battered fighters left to them. Correspondent
Leland Stowe watched a bombed village burn,
and wrote "When you looked again at the sagging skeletons of these wooden structures, somehow you
thought immediately of Japan-Japanese buildings
are made of the same tinderlike material as these Burmese dwellings.
That seemed to be what the flames in
Toungoo were saying."
Over the Mountains.
Southern Burma was all but gone. General Sir Archibald Wavell, taking over the India-Burma command (see p. 19), had
to assume that it was gone. He had then to
decide what more to defend for the salvation of India.
The immediate answer was:
northern Burma. Its formidable mountain masses along the India border would slow if not halt the penetrative
Japanese. Mongols, invading India seven
centuries ago, had shied off from those ranges and chosen to enter by
easier routes from the northwest. But
north Burma had one immense value which compelled its defense to the utmost. Through mountains to the north the
Chinese were boring a new truck route to
China, to replace the lost Burma Road. A regular air-freight route over
the same mountains was also in prospect.
Through a few high and difficult passes (see map), elephant trains had already borne some
supplies to river and highway inlets into China.
It was almost certain
that the Japanese would drive on northward, do their most to block these lifelines. With the same stroke, they
would further brace themselves for a
sea-and-air drive across the Bay of Bengal at India. The Allies, with
all Burma gone, would find it harder
than ever to defend uncertain India, harder still to place bombers, tanks and artillery in China to answer the
flames of Toungoo.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Time Magazine)
Singapore gave Malaya
meaning; nearly everyone knew that Singapore was a great naval base. Burma had no Singapore. Burma was a
strange place, with strange names, where
Japanese invaded, British retreated, and young Americans flew gallantly
in the alien sky. Last week, as the
battle for Burma ran its course, it was still a remote, uncomprehended struggle to most of the world.
Burma is a land of three
rivers: the long, motherly Irrawaddy in the west ; the tired, gentle Sittang in the center; the wild
Salween in the east. They rise in the northern
hills, where God lives. They all run southward, through Upper Burma to the
rice fields of the south, and then into
the Gulf of Martaban and the Bay of Bengal.
Who conquers Burma must
win the rivers and their valleys. With them go Burma's chief port, Rangoon; the oil of Yanangyaung, on the
Irrawaddy ; the ruby and silver mines; 85%
of all the precious tungsten in the British Empire; Burma's rubber plantations;
the inland cities—Pegu, Prome,
Mandalay—where Burmese kings once ruled their separate realms, and the British were never quite at home.
Japanese strategy was
first to seize the estuaries. The invaders drove from Siam into extreme Lower Burma, and then around the Gulf
of Martaban to ruined, abandoned Rangoon.
After Rangoon, the battle
for Burma was a struggle to keep the Japs in the south, at the river mouths. In the spring, the south is a
grey, heat-beaten land, where only the rivers
are cool and even the wide rice paddies gape with cracks in the baking
earth. It is a time when prudent men,
fools, even Englishmen stay out of the midday sun. But the Japs fought in the sun, and drove the British
steadily up the Irrawaddy and Sittang valleys.
Then the Chinese came down from the north.
The British and Indians
concentrated on the Irrawaddy front. The Chinese took over the Sittang—and, later, when the Japs opened a
flanking drive along the Salween in the east,
that front as well.
By last week, the Chinese
had pretty well taken over all three fronts. Like the British, they lacked air support and tanks ; they had
to retreat. But one good thing had come out
of the battle for Burma.
After long, bitter weeks
of misunderstanding, Chungking reported that the Chinese had at last reached an understanding with Great
Britain's General Sir Archibald Wavell. King
George conferred the Grand Cross of the Order of the Bath on
Generalissimo Chiang Kaishek. The
Chinese now feel free to send additional troops into Burma. There they
fight under their own commanders, who
are in turn responsible to Chiang Kai-shek's Chief of Staff, U.S. Lieut. General Joseph W.
Stilwell.
Not Many Men. It was
never a battle of great numbers. The biggest body of British troops reported in the retreat from Rangoon was
1,000, and they had with them all the British
mechanized equipment in Burma. The largest British force reported in
action last week was 7,000. There were
also a few thousand Indian troops, and two or three battalions of native Burmese riflemen, who were the
exceptions to the Burmese natives' general
indifference or hostility. The R.A.F had very little in the air at the
start, practically nothing after a few
weeks of combat. Because the Jap advance threatened the Burma Road to China, Chiang Kai-shek detailed his American
Volunteer Group to Burma's air defense. The
A.V.G. destroyed scores of Jap planes, but lost its own as well. By last
week the A.V.G. was using any old crate
at hand. Finally, the Japanese faced not more than three divisions of Chinese infantry, perhaps 40,000
men.
What Is Left? Southern
Burma is gone. The oilfields around Yenangyaung are gone. The coast whence the Japs can move across the Bay
of Bengal to India is largely gone. But the
Allies still have something to fight for in Burma.
The mere existence of a
fighting force in upper Burma is invaluable to the defense of India. If they have an active enemy in their
rear, the Japanese cannot complacently
advance on India.
Burma is a gateway to
China's roads. If the Japs drive on to Mandalay—they were only 75 miles away early this week—and successfully
entrench themselves in all northern Burma,
they will have a new front on China's borders. But Jap conquest of Burma
is mainly dangerous to the Chinese
because of the great new land routes abuilding from India into China. The Japs choked off the Burma Road
when they won Rangoon; if they win access to
the northern roads, they might all but choke China.
Yet China might still not
be altogether cut off. The U.S. is now equipping a great air-transport line, to fly war goods from
India to China. The Japs were never able to
ground China National Aviation Corp. by air attack. C.N.A.C.'s best
pilots are helping to establish the India-China
service, and they think that it can be maintained and steadily increased, unless the Japanese capture the
bases at both ends.
What Next? Early May
brings the rains to Burma. Southern Burma will be a green, cooled land for the invaders. Its rice paddies will
be lakes, many of its roads will be bogs.
But the best roads will still be usable, for bringing up supplies to the
troops in the north. So will the
Rangoon-Mandalay railroad; so will the rivers, except when they are flooded. In the north, where the fighting is
headed, the monsoon will not halt combat. If
the monsoon has any real military effect, it will be in the Bay of
Bengal. In monsoon time the Bay and its air
are stormy and perilous.
The defenders of India
are doubtless aware by now that nature and geography are uncertain allies. It was once an accepted fact that the
mountainous borderland between Burma and
India was impassable to armies—that the only practical route to India
was by sea and air. Yet refugees from
Burma filtered through those same mountains, 1,000 and more a day. The mountains which overlap eastern Burma and
Siam were also supposed to be well-nigh
impassable. Last week Japanese tanks from Siam wormed through the lower
ranges, in dark prediction of what they
may do on the road to India.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Time Magazine)
“People were making frantic efforts to get away … and to get their valuables away. Large numbers of merchants and traders also left, and I was told that the ordinary shop commodities in Calcutta could be bought for next to nothing. That was towards the end of 1941. When I returned to Bengal myself in April, 1942, there was an athmosphere of tenseness and expectancy in Calcutta…. Houses were vacant. Bazaar shops had very largely moved off and a great deal of the population had gone out … [N]obody knew whether by the next cold weather, Calcutta would be in the possession of the Japanese”
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Paul Greenough)
Our weakness in the Far Eastern air was still deplorable and this undoubtedly had a bad effect on morale. I had heard far more grumbling in Bengal than in battered England.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Harold Acton)
I
was born in Rangoon Burma in the late 30s.
My
earliest memories are of being rushed into underground bomb shelters, with
sirens blaring and hushed voices guiding and soothing everyone, while bombs
exploded with deafening sounds and frightening glares.
My
mother was in hospital having my younger sister, and my father, who worked for
the British Oil Co., was on war duty with the Engineers repairing roads and
railways, to keep the oil and supplies flowing.
Hushed
voices spoke with concern about the birth of my sister, while part of the
hospital was bombed, but 'mother and child were safe'.
My
next memory is of all of us rushing to get on a steamer, leaving everything behind,
all my toys, and then my father, who was carrying me, got off too, and we were
away without him. I held back my tears, gripping my mothers hand tightly,
remembering I had to be brave for my sisters, while I watched the waves on the
side of the ship grow as we progressed from the river to the Indian Ocean.
In
Calcutta we were met by my uncle and stayed with our cousins, with a lot of
fuss, and fun, while we waited for my father to arrive.
It
took him a long time, as he missed all the ships, and came by road, on Lorries
and Jeeps, when the British evacuated.
I
can still feel the relief and joy shared by all the families, when he finally
arrived.
But
he was different, thinner, gaunt, quieter, thoughtful, slower to smile or laugh
and his eyes didn't light up as they used to.
It
took my father some what longer to return to us fully.
(source: A4291157 Early Memories of the 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 could not have arrived at a more chaotic season. Our small air force in Burma had been decimated; our troops and thousands of civilian refugees were escaping through the jungles and mountains, an agonizing trek of six hundred miles, and the rains were soon expected. Half the Chinese forces had retreated to their own country, the rest were following General Stilwell to India.
Small wonder that I was eyed askance when I reported to P Staff. What the devil was I doing here and what did I think I could do?
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Harold Acton)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Japan is still at India's
door. The R.A.F. sharply reminded India's sahibs and indifferent millions of this fact last week.
A communiqué reported that in 46 days R.A.F.
planes had dropped 100 tons of bombs on Japanese troop and supply
concentrations moving into northern
Burma, near the mountainous but by no means inpregnable,* border of India.
*New Delhi last week
reported that 500,000 Burmese refugees had arrived in India. Some traveled by sea and air, but most of them,
surviving malaria and dysentery, living on
food dropped by R.A.F. planes, found their way over hidden trails from
Burma into Bengal and Assam.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Time Magazine)
I also saw refugees from Hong Kong and Burma, who lad barely survived their escape.
Of the innumerable accounts I heard of the thousands, mostly women and children, who were trapped in the hills of North Burma by monsoon floods and had to lead 'Robinson Crusoe' lives for three miserable months, I was haunted by that of a fragile girl of Anglo-Chinese stock. Her ivory skin was almost transparent over the childish bones. She had left Moulmein with her parents in December, travelling through Prome, Mandalay, Maymyo to Myitkina, where her father fell dangerously ill. Unable to move, he urged his daughter to start hiking. Her mother stayed behind to look after him.
Though she had been told that the rest of the journey would only take a week, it took over four months. The first lap was comparatively easy, for she joined a troop of fifty evacuees, the road was not too bad, food was obtainable and she got an occasional lift. But soon the road dwindled to a track which was turned into a bog by the incessant rain, and they could only travel a few miles a day. Food became scarce and there was little to buy from the Kachin villages through which they passed. The party split into groups to forage for victuals and every evening when they met again a few were missing, either lost or attacked by dacoits or overcome by fever.
Another couple of girls from Moulmein, sisters aged twenty and eighteen, tried to nurse the fever-stricken: they had charming voices, and they sang to keep up their courage.. These had been joined by four Tommies. Though they were suffering from malaria, the soldiers helped them through the most difficult part of the journey, the ill-famed Seven Streams where many of their companions were drowned. The girls swam naked across the swollen currents and the soldiers followed with their haversacks, containing their scanty clothes and supplies. There were many halts, sometimes of several days. On account of the prevalent fever. Some died of it and were buried in graves one foot deep.
The sisters said prayers
for the dying. Those who could
still walk trudged on through
the grim swamp of the Hukong valley.
Eventually they reached a large camp where they had their first solid meal for a week. Next day the soldiers who had accompanied then collapsed: three died and the fourth was far too weak to move. The sick decided to stay near medical supplies rather than struggle on through the Jungle.
The girls joined a group of thirteen women and children led by a Bengali who claimed to be a doctor. Among them was a boy of fourteen whose parents had died on the road. Twice the party was assaulted and robbed by hill bandits. Leeches fastened on their bare legs as they sank into the mud and they had no matches to bum them off.
The Bengali 'doctor' became a sadistic tyrant. He beat the women with a swagger-cane if they did not jump in obedience to his orders. If they fainted with fatigue he shouted at them them: 'You bitches are holding me back.' And he would thrash them until they got up. He monopolized the rations collected from dumps supplied by our food-dropping aircraft and he compelled the weaker women to submit to him by threats of starvation. The more spirited girls resisted. When he threatened the Anglo-Chinese girl with one of his six revolvers she said: 'Go on then, try it!' But he lost his nerve. However, she got even less to eat for her temerity.
The track grew worse and they had to slither on their bellies through lakes of mud. More often they had to stop from Weakness and exhaustion; even so they managed to cover between Seven and ten miles every day. The farther they tramped the more corpses and skeletons they passed and the 'doctor' robbed them of clothes and whatever money he could find. For a whole month they were detained by floods at a camp of bamboo huts containing five hundred refugees, half of whom died of meningitis within a fortnight. When the water subsided enough to let them continue their trek the girls found Kachin porters to carry them. They were so famished and feverish that they could scarcely remember the last lap of their journey. When they reached the ration dumps at a border camp they were barely alive. The rations were mostly tinned meat which gave them dysentery, after which they were found unconscious on the track by a rescue party organizer by some Assam tea planters. Thanks to these good Samaritans' who had been the first to help hundreds of refugees from Burma, they were carried into India on pack horses. At last they had medical attention, nourishment, and the comfort of clean beds. The Bengali 'doctor's' reputation had preceded him and he was arrested when he reached the India-Assam border. £30,000 worth of rupees had been scuffed in his knapsack, of which £7,500 belonged to the fourteen-year-old boy who had lost his Punjabi parents.
Others corroborated these stories. The ordeal of these refugees struck me as far more gruesome than that of our European fugitives. So much for Rousseau's notion of primitive goodness and the noble savage.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Harold Acton)
Meanwhile there was the tragic throng of refugees arriving in Calcutta. They had walked across the slippery roads and hills of Burma, stumbling, falling and dying on the way until they reached the safety of Assam where the tea planter welcomed and helped them in every possible way. In Calcutta there was not a day that we did not read in the ‘Statesman’ of the sad announcement of the death of some person - child, a mother or a grandmother – who had died during that terrible trek which claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands of civilians.
(source:page 93 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)
FEBRUARY
1942
Sunday
22nd
We
(my mother Daphne Johnson and I, Jose)finally left MAWLIAK by Loondwin this
morning. It is a most uncomfortable way of travelling, but no doubt we shall
live through it. The men pole the boats by putting the top of the pole in their
shoulder muscles, and walking the length of the bamboo deck. We stopped at a
place called TACON for the night, about half way to YUWA. It was a terrible
place, as it was just the bank of the river and no flat space for doing
anything.
Monday
23rd
We
left TACON early in the morning; Last night was most uncomfortable as the boatmen
insisted on sleeping on the boats as well. We went along all day stopping for
our meal about 10:30am. We reached YUWA rather late about 5.15.pm. and the
place we stopped at was a buffalo wallow, absolutely filthy, and being near the
village we had a large audience watching us eat our evening meal!! The Phoongis
(Buddhist monks) here presented Mrs. Wheeler with some fresh milk and a bunch
of bananas.
Tuesday
24th
We
left YUWA early. I feel we are really on the way now as we are going up the Yu.
The day passed the same as usual, the scenery here is really worth looking at,
lovely hills and trees. We camped at a place called NGAPUN just above a rapid.
It was a bit dirty but considerably cleaner than YUWA and a good flat space to
move about.
Wednesday
25th
I
spent the day as usual sitting in the boat with Mummy and one or other of the
American Padres, talking and reading. We camped the night at a place called
KYAUKTINE. There was a marvellous creek, very secluded where we all proceeded
to have a good wash!
Thursday
26th
The
morning was spent as usual. There was great excitement caused in the afternoon
by an aeroplane flying overhead, everyone wished they were in it. We are now
approaching the part of the river which is full of rapids, we went over about
six today and there are lots more of them tomorrow. SONCATHA is the name of the
place where we camped, not a bad place, quite clean. We walked the last couple
of miles along a jungle track.
Friday
27th
We
made very slow progress today owing to numerous rapids; we spent most of the
day getting in and out of the boats, as everyone has to get out for the boats
to be pulled over the rapids. We spent the night at a ghastly place just above
Maw; it was very dirty and muddy. The boatmen say they might get us to HLESEIK
tomorrow if we are ready to start early. HLESEIK is where we get off the
Loondwins and we are not due there until Sunday.
Saturday
28th
We
were ready to leave this morning hours before we need as we were all woken up
by mistake at 4. 30 Am.!! We made HLESEIK and when we got there we found a
Forester to meet us, he had coolies and everything for our luggage, and took us
up to the camp, which was practically finished. The sleeping quarters consist
of bamboo huts divided into cubicles with four bunks in each. It seemed heaven
to us, after the Loondwins.
MARCH
1942
Sunday
1st
As
we arrived here a day early they were not ready for us at TAMU, so we spent the
day here at HLESEIK most people spent the time washing and cleaning up in
general. A BBTC extra assistant arrived in the morning to deal with the stores
arriving for the evacuation camps, a Mr. Middleton by name. He had his wireless
and we listened to the news and heard messages from people in Rangoon to their
families in India.
Monday
2nd
We
started out for TAMU. The luggage going all the way by bullock cart about
eleven miles. We walked for four and a half miles to a place called PANTHA with
the children in a couple of bullock carts with us, and there we got in an
almost derelict bus, and proceeded along a most frightful road to TAMU. Charles
Cook, who was in charge of the evacuation at TAMU, put us in the Court House,
the filthiest hole imaginable. Other people in charge of the evacuation are Mr.
Wright and Mr. Davies, both of the BBTC.
Tuesday
3rd
After
a considerable amount of fuss on our part, Charles Cook finally said he would
move us to the proper camp, a couple of miles outside TAMU, the camp was
practically finished with the bunks in and everything, so why we were not put
there on arrival is beyond me. It looks as if we shall be in TAMU for sometime
as coolies are unobtainable at the moment, owing to the reduced rates of pay,
and fright, a BBTC elephant gored a coolie yesterday. Fay and I found an
attractive pool in the river that runs by the camp and had a lovely swim.
Wednesday
4th
There
is no further news of coolies this morning. Mrs. Foucar washed nearly
everybody’s hair, and we spent the rest of the morning cleaning up what clothes
we could. Fay and I had another swim in the river and on our return to the
camp, were thrilled to learn that coolies had been found and that we were due
to leave in the morning. It will be marvellous to start off, as an enormous
party of non-Europeans had arrived this morning and had filled up the camp.
Thursday
5th
The
whole camp was up and ready to start at dawn, the other party coming with us,
the coolies were late in turning up! We finally got started about 11:00.a.m. We
left the other party behind as they had insufficient stores. We were only
allowed one coolie each, and they refused to carry a bedding roll and a
suitcase, so we had to repack frantically all the clothes from our suitcases
into our bedding rolls, making our beds up on our clothes , as we had to
discard our thin mattresses. The first mile was on the flat, but we began to
climb rapidly after that, it was very hot owing to our late start. We got into
camp about 2.30 p.m. it was very much unfinished, only a roof and outside
walls, we all had to sleep in long lines on the floor. Jim Davies arrived about
4.30 p.m. to inoculate all the coolies against Cholera, we have already lost
one. The water is contaminated and we have to be very careful with it.
Friday
6th
We
got up early, and had a certain amount of trouble with the coolies, after their
injections last evening. We marched seven and half miles, climbing for about
five and the remainder going down to the camp. It was very steep and we arrived
at the camp pretty exhausted. The camp itself was very nice, and was finished
to all intents and purposes; LOICHAW was the name of the place. We had our meal
and rested all the afternoon. After tea Fay and I had a bathe in the small
stream that runs below the camp. The Indian camp which is further downstream,
through which we had to pass to get to ours was burnt down owing to the Cholera
outbreak.
Saturday
7th
We
were rather late getting started this morning, the coolies were ready before
us, and we were still eating our porridge!! It was a very steep climb again
today and we were all very stiff after yesterday’s efforts. We got into camp
about 11.00 a.m. The camp consists of half a roof and nothing else! We are all
established in one long line under the half that is finished. We had our meal
and the flies swarmed around us, this is the only place we have been troubled with
them. The afternoon passed in the usual manner i.e. resting and washing. We had
just got our bedding and nets ready for the night when there was a most
terrific storm and most of us got drenched.
Sunday
8th
We
got up early but had a disturbed night, the coolies were coughing and spitting
all over the place. And some of our coolies seem to have run away which is
annoying, but we seem to be able to manage without them. I have got some nasty
blisters, which are painful. The march today was pretty stiff but we have
nearly finished with it now. We arrived at TENGNAUPAL Camp about 12:15p.m.
There are two Assam tea planters who are in charge of the camp, so things are
in a slightly better condition. There is an acute shortage of water, and we are
rationed to a pint or so each. We are over 6,000 ft. up here and it is pretty
cold. Our highest point was about 7,000 ft.
Monday
9th
We
were up early before 5 a.m. and marched for ten miles until we were about three
miles from PALEL. The march was fairly easy as it was mostly down hill and of
course we are getting into training. When we arrived at the bottom of the hill
we were taken to a small camp where there were more tea planters, they gave us
a cup of tea and put us in buses for IMPHAL (Mr Blanchard, one of the padres
had walked ahead of us into IMPHAL and got the buses.) We arrived at IMPHAL in
the early afternoon after a terrible bus ride, the road was awful. The camp is
quite nice and we were given dinner and it was good, we had proper plates,
cutlery and glasses for the first time for days and also BREAD.
Tuesday
10th
We
got up about 6:30a.m. and packed all our kit ready to put on the buses, they
were very late turning up. We had three buses between the party. The buses are
really converted lorries and had no seats and we have to sit on our luggage. We
have to go 133 miles like this but we do not mind anything now that we are
nearly at the end of our travels. Those in our bus are Mrs. Foucar, Fay, Mary,
Jenny, John, Mrs. Ricketts, Jill, and Don John, and Mummy and I. We stopped at
a place called MAO for lunch. The bus doesn’t seem to have any springs and it
certainly shakes your liver up! We passed a party of British Tommies on the
road and we waved madly at them!!
We
arrived at DIMAPORE about 7:00p.m., saw the Inspector of Police and afterwards
were given tea, with mountains of bread and jam! We had dinner in the
refreshment room on the station, the officers who were using it as a mess
waited until we had finished. Two extra coaches were put on the overnight train
and somehow or other we all got in, relieved beyond words, to have reached
civilisation again.
Wednesday
11th
We
spent the day on the ferry on the BRAHMAPUTRA River and then another overnight
train.
Thursday
12th
We
arrived in CALCUTTA.
The
Party consisted of`:
Mr.
Fletcher A.B.M. Padre.
Mr.
Blanchard A.B.M. Padre
Mrs.
Wheeler Wounded in the air raids in Rangoon.
Mrs.
Foucar.
Fay
Foucar
Mary
Mustill.
Jennifer
Mustill. Aged 7
John
Mustill Aged 3
Mrs.
Crawford
Nan
Crawford Aged 4.
Pat
Crawford Aged 18 months
Mrs.
Young An American
Layle
Young Aged 6.
Phillip
Young Aged 4
Baby
Young Aged 6 weeks
Mrs.
Johnson
Jose
Johnson
Burramia
Miss
Stewart Joined party at TAMU
Mr.
Roach Joined party at TAMU
Mrs.
Roach Joined party at TAMU
Mrs.
Ricketts Joined party at TAMU
Jill
Ricketts Joined party at TAMU
Don
John Ricketts Joined party at TAMU
Two
boys with Miss Stewart who left us at Imphal to go to school.
POST
SCRIPT
Before
we left Mawlaik we had discussions with the two American Padres who were to act
as our leaders, and they undertook to cook the rice (a large sack was loaded in
one of the boats) and boil the drinking water for the whole party once a day.
It
was up to us to provide any additional food ourselves and to allow for an
estimated fourteen day journey. We split up into small groups in our case, Mary
and the two children, Mum and I. We decided that a tin of meat or fish, plus
the rice would feed us for one meal, i.e. once opened a tin could not be kept.
So the drill was that when we camped for the night, Burramia proved him self
adept at getting a fire going and would assist the Padres in cooking the rice
and dishing it out to everyone. They also dealt with the filling of everyone’s
water bottle which had to last all day. They insisted that everyone fixed up
some sort of mosquito net at night and in the mornings we usually drank tea
with powdered milk and perhaps watery porridge, ugh! It was entirely due to the
care taken by the Padres in these matters that we all remained fit throughout
the journey.
As
to ablutions, the facilities were nil! Hence we took the opportunity to
swim/wash in a river whenever it offered! Calls of nature were just a case of
visiting the jungle and pretty uncomfortable it was! We did have toilet paper
with us I am glad to say!!? I think that at a couple of the more or less
finished camps Latrines had been dug but nowhere else! I have NEVER been
tempted to go on a camping holiday since.
When
reading this story it should be born in mind that the Burma-India border is a
very remote region and many of the place names I have given are nothing more
than locations on the map. The only places where there were any modest
habitations were either wooden or bamboo were Tamu and Palel until of course we
reached Imphal.
It
is perhaps worth noting that on the journey to the railhead at DIMAPORE we
passed through KOHIMA later to be the scene of the most important battle with
the Japanese and which stopped their intended advance into India. It was a
beautiful spot when we saw it - hard to imagine the devastation and horror that
was to come.
Although
our journey was not exactly comfortable, we were much better off than those who
came later, or found themselves up in the North of the country and hoping to
fly out from Myitkyina. There were simply not enough planes and in any event
the airfield was soon under attack by the Japanese and the refugees ended up
walking through the notorious Hukawng Valley, the rains had broken by this time
and the area was a sea of mud, very few had adequate food supplies or clothing
and many thousands died of disease.
Whilst
we were waiting in the camp at Tamu those in charge made arrangements for small
bamboo chairs on poles to carry the children and a larger one for Mrs. Wheeler
who could not walk.
The
coolies were mostly Naga tribesmen, we could not speak their language and they
could not speak ours, but we got on fine with those that remained with us. They
were keen to salvage our empty food tins possibly to make tools or weapons and
we got used to being a ‘spectacle’ when we ate our meal! Jennifer had one toy
with her - a baby doll which shut its eyes when laid down, it was an object of
great fascination to the Nagas! Jenny still has this rather battered doll!
(source: A3338804 DIARY OF THE TREK OUT OF BURMA 1942 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 born in Shillong, Assam, India on 23rd December 1932 and in 1938 together with
my parents, brother and sister we moved to the beautiful hill station of
Maymyo, fourteen miles from Mandalay in Burma. My father was an official in the
Survey of India and had been transferred to the Burmese territory
During
late 1941 the Japanese invasion of Burma was imminent and Britain and its
allies started to reinforce Burma. There was a small British army Garrison in
Maymyo at the cantonment not far from our home and the reinforcements set up
tented camps there.
There
were British and Australian Infantry Regiments stationed there and the Kings
Own Yorkshire Light Infantry (KOYLI) was one of the Regiments. The soldiers
favourite drinking place was Fosters’ Hotel, an establishment situated not far
from our home, which had to be passed by the soldiers on their way to the Hotel
and back to camp.
I
also witnessed columns of soldiers on route marches dressed in shorts, bush
jackets and headdress of various kinds including the Australian bush hat, with
its wide brim.
They
were always equipped with rifle, water bottle and other accruements.
Heavier
equipment was usually carried on mules or very sturdy mule carts.
Gurkha
soldiers were also stationed in Maymyo and I loved seeing them march in their
very wide legged shorts, which seemed to stand still as their stout little legs
went back and forth. This military display impressed me and probably had some
influence in the choice of my career.
In 1942 two Japanese divisions advanced into Burma,
accompanied by the Burma National Army of Aung San, capturing Rangoon, and
forcing the British forces to begin the long evacuation west. They captured
Mandalay in May 1942 and the British forces under General Alexander withdrew to
the Indian frontier.
Early that year, Joe Wamick, a Sargent of the KOYLI, was
assigned to help us with home defense. I remember helping Joe and my father to
dig a trench at the front end of our garden and to build a roof of bamboo poles
and banana leaves before covering it all with earth to make an air raid
shelter.
One day before the roof was complete Maymyo was attacked by
Japanese warplanes. We ran for the trench and I held my Daisy Airgun up to the
sky in determination to shoot them down as they flew above us. This was in
about March 1942 and I was 9 years old.
Because the Allied forces were short of equipment, many
forms of improvisation was needed to deter the Japanese enemy, and one of these
was the building of dummy Ack-Ack gun emplacements in open fields not far from
our home.
About this time my father came home one day in the uniform
of a Captain in the Corps of Indian Engineers and a few days later we prepared
to leave Burma.
The son of a Doctor Cox joined my mother and us three
children to make a party for our evacuation. Our fathers were to stay behind to
fight the Japanese.
After nearly four years of bliss in this beautiful country
this was to be the last time that we lived as a family in our own home. We had
to leave everything behind and just walk away in the clothes we wore and some
other minor articles we could carry in our hands.
All our possessions, including the many silver trophies won
by my parents in Tennis, ballroom dancing and other events were lost.
We left Maymyo by taxi in April 1942 and headed to the
village of Shwebo situated across the Irrawaddy to the north west of Mandalay.
The British army had made an airfield here and put up some huts to shelter
reinforcements, these became swamped by refugees like us very quickly.
The five of us were allocated one bed in a dormitory and
told to wait further transportation.
There was very little food and with my mother’s foresight
we survived a few days on the dried Horlicks we carried with us from Maymyo and
boiled water. There was a canteen of sorts but the food was suspect and
inadequate.
My mother discovered that there was one DC3 Aircraft doing
as many flights a day as possible between Chittagong, on the Bay of Bengal, and
Shwebo and managed to get our names on the waiting list.
I had my first lesson here of ‘relative size’; it happened when
we heard an aircraft noise and thinking it was Japanese warplanes we all rushed
outside and saw an approaching aeroplane much larger than the Japanese fighters
we had seen in Maymyo.
Word went around quickly that it was the DC3 and therefore
safe. The plane looked small in the sky but as it approached over our heads to
land, its wingspan seemed to fill the sky. Frightened, I tried in vain to run
from under its shadow.
We stayed in Shwebo for a few days and watched many people
become very sick and frightened. We were lucky and managed to get on a flight
but many were left to trek out over the mountains for the safety of India. Many
died and I met some survivor’s years later at school in India and learnt of
their harrowing experiences of death, sickness and starvation.
The DC3 aircraft had bare metal seats, which flapped up
against the fuselage wall, and a row had been added along the middle. The plane
was packed with people. As we rose into the air the seats got very cold, but
this first experience of flying was so exhilarating that nothing else concerned
me. To see the mountainous jungle below was awe-inspiring. On arrival in
Chittagong, a very hot and humid sea port we were able to catch an overnight
ferry boat running across the Bay of Bengal to somewhere east of Calcutta. This
was a fearful voyage because there was a terrific storm with thunder and
lightening and torrential rain and the behavior of drunks on board frightened
me. From our landing we were put on a train by the British/Indian authorities and
sent to Fort William at Calcutta.
We were allotted officers quarters at Fort William, which
was garrisoned by the British Army, and where we were well looked after. We
stayed here for a few days while arrangements were made for our onward
destination. My mother was able to contact her sister in Lahore, over in the
Northwest of India and arrange for us to live at her home. With this the Army
allowed us to leave the Fort and we set off on the long rail journey to Lahore.
I never knew what happened to Derrick Cox, the doctors’ son who came out of
Burma with us.
Clearly, my mother must have had a very trying time and
showed her determination and strength.
My father spent the next three years as part of the British
14th Army opposing the Japanese Army in Burma.
(source: A4036961 A British Boy in Wartime 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)
My
parents were in Burma at the start of the war, having sent me back to England
in 1937 at the age of 5. I stayed in Yorkshire with my grandmother.
My
father had passed the Indian Civil Service exams and by the outbreak of the war
he was the Commissioner of the Irriwaddy Division. The Japanese invaded in
1941/2 and civilians started to move north away from the invading army. Many died
on the walk.
My
father requisitioned boats in the Irriwaddy Flotilla and sent my mother south
(towards the Japanese!) down the delta to the coast and round to up to Akyab
and from there up to Calcutta.
My
father followed the same route later as the last to leave. Together my parents
travelled from Calcutta up to Simla and then across to Durban, Cape Town and
back to England in the spring of 1943. I had not seen my parents for 6 years.
(source: A3453716 Lateral Thinking 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
didn’t have to report in at Mhow for another 2 weeks anyway. However, within a
couple of hours or so upon arrival in Rangoon we were once again airborne in a
Dakota, bound for Calcutta. These planes had not been used for dropping supplies,
therefore no seats! Halfway up the coast of Burma we ran into a storm,
lightning flashing all around, buffeting around, dropping like a stone and then
flying at tree top height. Indian soldiers on the plane were on there knees,
praying as hard as they could. After landing at Calcutta, we were informed
that a Dakota which had taken off just before us, had crashed in the jungle!
So,
that very same day, from being south of Kalaw at 8.00, found us at Calcutta airport not really knowing what to do next, certainly not
getting to Mhow before we were supposed! We stayed a few nights at the
Salvation Army hostel and spent the days looking around Calcutta. Soon tiring of the masses, the beggars, the sick and the
dying and the young, I decided we would take a circular tour of northern India
by train.
(source: A5961170 The Black Cats: 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)
I
spent most of my childhood in the Far East — Burma.
My
father was in the Colonial Service. I had an unusual and privileged upbringing
until the war started, and was at school at a boarding school in Rangoon. I was
12 years old. Father had an elephant that he used for his touring as part of
his work and as a treat, when it came for medical attention each year from the
Arakan - Yomas mountain range, we rode it round the town!
The
Japanese had started their invasion of Burma, Singapore had fallen and they
were moving across to Mandalay where we were stationed at the time.
We
were asked by the Government if we wanted to evacuate, so a group of about 20
started our trek from Mumbai to the Indian Border. We walked for about 14 miles
a day, from camp to camp. We had a soldier at the front and the back for our
protection. Coolies carried our treasures and essentials and everyone was
allowed to take 60lbs in weight of possessions, but as children we took our
treasures, rather than essentials. We took quite a lot of money which my
brother carried in a money belt. The camps, of bamboo huts, were constructed
for us. I was with my mother who was 40, and my two brothers, one older, one
younger, and we were the only children on the walk. When we left we were told
to bring provisions (mainly tinned foods) that had to be ‘handed in’ and then
from then on we would be feed. We were up at 4 am, and walked until about 11
am, from one camp to the next, where we were given rice or lentils to eat,
nothing much more and then rested for the rest of the day. As children, we
thought it all a big adventure. Mother had asthma and had to rest and at times
she had to be carried in a sedan chair. Everybody helped each other and we
bathed in the rivers to keep clean.
And
the next day came more walking, and for the next 21 days until we came right to
the border of India. From there we took a bus into the Head of the Railway. We
got the train to Calcutta where we were billeted in a convent, sleeping on the
ground. We were grateful for a mattress and to be under cover as we had been on
the move for 2 months. As children we were delighted to see ice cream on a
stick!
The
authorities asked us if we had any relations, or places that we wished to go.
We had an Aunt in New Delhi, so we went there and the remainder of the group
went to another camp down south. From there we went to another Uncle at
Lucknow, who had 5 children. We were asked if we wanted to go back to school so
my brothers went to a Christian Brother’s school and I went to a convent. We
were all day pupils.
My
Father eventually came across from Burma. He walked with part of the 14th Army
to join us, up until then we had been very much alone with my mother and in the
end, we went back to Calcutta, once more a family.
(source: A5230450 A Childhood 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)
I was a young Indian (Parsi) girl living in Calcutta during World War II. My family consisted of my mother, father and three daughters, I was the eldest daughter. My brother had not been born yet. We lived in an apartment block in Mission Row, not far from Dalhousie Square — the spot where the “Black Hole of Calcutta” was supposed to have taken place — though Indian historians deny this episode.
My neighbours consisted of a Chinese family who had trekked from Burma, an Anglo-Indian family - Mr and Mrs Carter, a Portuguese family — Mr and Mrs Coelho and their 4 sons, and 2 Baghdad Jewish families — the Nahoums and the Manassehs.
My family lived on the top floor and from our veranda (whose doors and windows had been plastered with black and brown paper, as protection from broken glass during the air raid), I could see the steeple and weather cock of St Andrews Church, and in the background Howrah Bridge, the life-line of Calcutta connecting the 2 sides of the mighty Hooghly River.
(source: A5756150 The bombing of Calcutta by the Japanese 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)
My
dad came to Burma in 1923 from America with fellow countrymen to work for The
Burma Oil Company, to help to open the oil fields in Yenanyung alongside a
British workforce. Travel in those days was on horseback.
My
mother was Burmese and I was born in Yenanyung. When we were of school age we
had to go to Rangoon for our education. My brother, Clyde, was first to go.
Five years later I went followed by my sister Ethel. We had to stay with my
mother's relatives. My brother and sister stayed with my mum's sister,Lucy, who
already had five children of her own. They lived in Rangoon.
I stayed with my mother's aunty and family. I don't know why but I called them
Nana and Grandpa. I suppose it was because they had a grandson.I was educated
at St.John's Convent in Rangoon. I used to travel by train. It was a pleasant
journey. My school days were happy days but I did not enjoy holidays, living
out of town, not seeing my school mates, but I enjoyed both cultures.
There
was always some kind of celebration among our Burmese neighbours and we all
joined in. There were street parties, water festivals and as we were
Christians, Easter and Christmas were very special. We went to church most
Sundays and after the service we used to go and have a meal in the market
square. Very enjoyable.
Grandad
worked at the High Court, he was the Clerk. He went off to work in the morning
and in the evening, after work, he would go shopping and bring food in for the
evening meal. I used to love nana's cooking and loved watching her prepare the
evening meal.We were all more then ready to eat.
I
did not see a lot of my brother,sister or mother but I do remember the three of
us going to visit our mother. We had to take the river boat on the Irrawaddy
River to get to Yenanyung and it was very exciting for the three of us to be
together to visit our mum, even though it was only for a short time. As mum and
dad were separared we did not see dad.
One
time we returned nana and family were not very happy, I did not understand why.
They were discussing war and were very worried. It wasn't very long before I
realised why they were so worried.On Christmas Day 1942 Rangoon was bombed and
we all had to find shelter. Nana told us to soak whatever we could find and to
cover our mouths in case it was a chemical attack.Fortunately it was not.When
the bombing stopped, we ran out to see the damage but all we could see were
palls of smoke on all sides. We felt trapped with nowhere to run, no escape,
only to be burnt alive.Everyone was in a panic- a very frightening experience.
Nana
and family realised it was the beginning of of the Japanese invasion and by
evening, where we lived was like a ghost town. Where everyone had disappeared
to we did not know.
Out
of 90 houses in our street there were only 4 houses left occupied, it was very
scary. Everything was so quiet, eerie, where everyone went to this day we did
not find out. After a couple of days things did not look too good so nana and
family decided we had better move on like the rest as the place was like a
ghost town. Like everyone, we just took only the very necessary things we could
carry and left everything behind us. We went to stay with friends 20 miles away
but did not realise what hardship was to follow and that this was just the
beginning. It was just as well we left because a few days later our house and
the area we lived in was bombed and everything raised to the ground. We were
lucky to have left in time.
Things
did not look too good. We could not get in touch with any of our family. It was
utter confusion with no one to guide us or tell us what to do or where to go.
It seemed every family had to make their own decision. My sister, Ethel, had
just started boarding school and we were unable to contact them.
the
Japanese army was fast approaching. The elders decided we had better go north
and put as much distance between us and them as possible, so off to Mandalay we
went. When we arrived it was so hot and dusty we had to move on. Nana
remembered one of Aunty Lucy's daughters had got married recently and had gone
to live in Maymyo.It was a beautiful hill station and garrison town where
expats went for their vacation to escape the heat. Although it was beautiful we
were still a long way from our destination. The journey was slow and we stopped
at various villages or towns, staying wherever we could find shelter. At one
point it was so dark we had no choice but to we find shelter in a Chinese
cemetery.Once darkness fell we were among thieves but they never bothered us.
However we felt very uneasy and after a couple of days Grandad went into town
and found an empty house and moved us there for a while.
We
had not realised, once we left Rangoon, how many lovely places there were along
the way. At the time, being a teenager and only concentrating on moving on with
the family, it did not mean much but now I remember there was a place, where
farms were deserted, like a miniature Yorkshire Dales. So many beautiful
places, I'd love to see it again but it won't happen. I'm too old now.
After
a long journey we finally reached Maymyo- a long way from the Japanese we
hoped. It was a lovely hill station, mostly bungalows with climbing roses- a
little England. I can't remember how we found my cousin but we were also
reunited with Aunty Lucy and family who had a house we could move into. Unfortunately
still no news of my sister, mother,dad or other pupils and form teachers.
We
were just getting settled when without any warning, once again the bombs
returned. We had no time to get to the shelters and just had to hide under
tables or wherever it would be safe. It was indeed a very frightening
experience and now I know what it must have been like for the people of Rangoon
when they were bombed.
When
the bombing stopped, we went out to see who had survived. It was devastating to
see people dead and the damage to houses. Fortunately, we all survived. When we
arrived at Maymyo it was the only place we'd been where there were air raid
shelters but unfortunately Maymyo was taken by surprise.
Not
long after the bombing the authorities came around and advised the families to
move on as Chinese troops were coming and as they would not be able to
communicate they would help themselves if they to what they needed. The family
all got together and had to make a decision about leaving. My Aunty Lucy
decided it was time for the family to trek to India as the Japanese were fast
approaching. Nana, Grandpa and family decided to stay on. I guess they felt
they could not make the journey because of their age. I decided to leave Nana
and family and join Aunty Lucy and her family on the trek to India.I did not
realise at the time how much pain this must have caused Nana and family when I
left. I feel the pain now and feel so sad when I reminisce.We began our journey
at the station where I remember seeing a troop train full of wounded British
soldiers.I hope they managed to get away with the help of the Chinese army.I am
sure Aunty Lucy knew where we had to go a there was no supervision.At the end
of our train journey we had to cross the Chindwin River where we began to see other
refugees escaping like us. Before long we reached Sampans where fortunately for
us a boat filled with marines, I believe the last boat to leave with British
servicemen onboard, picked us up, no doubt saving our lives. Lives that were
about to change for ever.
Along
the way at one of our frequent refuelling stops we could hear a lot of noise on
the opposite bank. We were told it was the villagers celebrating the arrival of
the Japanese army. We all had a very uneasy feeling.We finally arrived at our
destination, the start of our journey over the 5,000-foot range of mountains to
India, alongside many other refugees. There were no camps, everyone had to fend
for themselves and do the best they could. Sometimes we travelled by bullock
carts but it was a very slow journey. We were lucky if we found a village with
food and shelter for the night.We moved on to reach the mountains, not knowing
how far behind the Japanese army were.They did drop bombs but luckily it was
always after we had left a place or just before we arrived at the next stop.
Finally
we reached the hardest part of the journey- over the mountains.All along the
way we would see people stopping to rest but just dying as they rested.So many
of them, we thought will we aver make it? By now going through the hardest
part, we only had what we stood up in and were starving and tired and right at
the highest point of the mountain, when what I can only describe as a miracle
happened. Right in the middle of the road was a big basket full of tins of
peaches and evaporated milk. I can't remember how many cans we opened but by
then we were in the company of some British soldiers who had the same goal to
reach the railway junction, Manipir to Calcutta.
Things
were beginning to look hopeful. I remember a beautiful choir singing in the
distant Naga Hills, probably a mission station, it was very uplifting.We
started to hear trucks in the distance. It was the British and Indian Army
trucks picking up refugees.You can imagine how happy we were to see them- our
troubles were nearly over, we were being taken care of.But the journey was
still very harrowing, narrow, winding roads and especially at night. Some of
the trucks didn't make it but at last we made it to the junction where the
train took us to the Calcutta Refugee Centre to find out if we could be reunited with
our loved ones but unfortunately not. There was no newa about anyone, except
for my sister and her school mates-32 children and 4 teachers who made it to
the aerodrome at Myitchine but missed the last flight and had to trek through
the jungle.They got caught in the monsoon rains and all died.
My
brother and Aunty Lucy's husband joined the Medical Corp. My brother survived
but not my uncle.We were sent to Fort William because my uncle was in the army.
As refugees were coming we had to move on again and this time to the Hill
Station. While Aunty Lucy and family were preparing to go to Kashmire, I
decided,unwisely, to be a companion to a lady who was housebound. Things did
not work out so I got in touch with my Aunty Sophie, another of my mum's
sisters, who was working for a family in the Digboi oil fields before the war
started and we had always been in touch. I told her I was very unhappy and she
was surprised to receive my letter.To my surprise she wrote back saying she had
bumped into my dad at the Oil Company's store.She had told him where I was and
that I was very unhappy. He arranged for Aunty Sophie to come down to Calcutta and fetch me home.
I
was reunited with my dad whom I hadn't seen since I left to start school and it
was a happy reunion. I told him about my sister and fellow pupils and teachers.
Dad told me how they had had to blow up all the oil wells and how he and fellow
drillers were the last to leave the fields. They escaped while the place was on
fire using the smoke as camouflage. He was awarded a medal, the British Service
Medal,one of only two Americans to receive the award alongside fellow British
workers.
Although
we had journeyed out of Burma the same way,perhaps at different times, I don't think
we were ahead of them. I wished I had asked him at the time. I was happy to be
with Aunty Sophie who was not so far away and felt settled and safe but not for
long. I couldn't believe it when dad said the Oil Company told all employees to
evacuate women and children as the Japanese were heading for the oil fields at
Digboi.I was shattered. Here we go again.
Dad
told me to make a choice, go to school or take a Nursery nurse training at
Kalimpong, a hill station, at the foothills of Darjeling in the Himalayas. I
made a big mistake and chose Nursery School. At the time I was too young to
train as a hospital nurse.So off I went but what a shock when I arrived. It was
a two-year hard course. Matron was very strict and I could not go back home so
I had no choice but to stay. I kept asking dad to leave but it fell on deaf
ears so I decided to run away.Where to I did not know but then one of the girls
told me I wouldn't get very far as there was only one way out. I'd be sent
straight back so i just had to get on with my training.There were good
times.Towards the end of our training,once we had done all the hard work and
worked our way up we were put in charge of two-month-old babies.Matron, who
trained us, got married just before I finished my training and when we finished
she invited us to stay at their tea garden in Darjeeling. It was a lovely
house. We were spoilt and had a lovely time and then it was time to go back
home fully qualified.
(source: A5572028 The Long Walk 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)
Ann,
Dear,
Until
December 1941 ‘war’ was just a word to us British people living in Burma. From
1939, when England declared war, we had followed it with the help of letters from
home and the radio. Many times I wished your grandparents and uncles there in
Tidworth were with us in Maymyo, which we thought was a safe place. Germany was
a long way from us; we knew they couldn’t reach us. At this time we were living
in Maymyo, a small garrison town in Upper Burma, a pretty place with hills,
lakes and gardens. The shopping area was small, only one British shop, but by
hunting around in the bazaar you could buy most things. Fruit, vegetables and
flowers were plentiful. The Garrison, a Cantonment, was about two miles from
the town centre. The married quarters were modern bungalows, about sixty of
them, placed in a semi-circle with two in the centre; we lived in one of these.
Except for the worry of our folks at home life at that time was really great.
It
was September 1941, when things began to change. The men in the regiment of the
K.O.Y.L.I. were issued with various things, which had to be always ‘at the
ready’. I cannot remember all the things, but I do know they had a small
kit-bag packed with jungle kit, tin hat, identity disc, mug, plate etc. and
that they had to carry their rifle with them at all times. When a certain bugle
call was heard you would see the men running with their ‘goods’ to the parade
ground. Several times they went off in a train, returning the next day, or the
day after, no special time away, it was always a case of ‘expect them when you
see them’ after the bugle call.
Between
the 12th and 29th September (our respective birthdays) your Daddy was Orderly
Officer, one of his duties being to inspect the guard during the night. This
particular time he decided to do so at 4 a.m., usually he would be away about
an hour, I always had a cup of tea ready for his return, I was in the kitchen
waiting for the kettle to boil, when back he came, telling me he could not
stop. They were off again, took his kit-bag and he was away. Soon after this
the bugle sounded. We all thought they would be back in a day or two. It was
July 1942 before we met again. For weeks we hoped they would be home
‘to-morrow’, until we were told they would be away for an indefinite time. Mail
was regular, the men, of course, could not say where they were. It was months
later when we heard they were in the Burmese jungle.
December
1941, Japan declared war, we knew that there was trouble ahead and that ‘war’
would cease to be just a word- but a reality. It was December 1941 when Pearl
Harbour was bombed, also Rangoon. Hong Kong had to surrender and Malaya was
also being attacked. All over Maymyo air-raid trenches were dug, air-raid
sirens were heard many times as a practice.
We
were allocated places in a trench not too far from our bungalow; of course,
when the siren went our orders were to get to the trench as quickly as
possible. Ann, you were two and a half, so you and I made a game of it because
I knew it would be quicker for you to run on your own and me to follow than to
carry you. If the Bearer or Ayah were near they would take you to the trench,
if not as soon as the siren sounded, you would be away, by the time I arrived
you were so excited and always greeted me with “Mummy, I was first”.
Early
in January 1942, the Gloucester Regiment families, who were stationed at
Mingaladon near Rangoon, were evacuated to Maymyo, we were asked to share our
homes with them, a Mrs O’Neil and her three year old daughter Jill came to live
with us. We agreed very well for the few weeks we were together. Black-out was
introduced, because now the sirens really did mean an air-raid. Several times a
day, day after day, the Japanese planes flew over, dropping bombs only once.
Little damage was done but it caused havoc with the Burmese and Indians, they
disappeared into the jungle for days. Shops were just left open; there was of
course a lot of looting. Food became very short; fortunately most of us had
well-stocked larders. I had a gem of a bearer, if he heard of an open shop, off
he would cycle to buy whatever he thought I would need, bread was the most
difficult to get. I remember being in the town, near the bakers shortly after
the ‘All clear’. I went back to the shop, the baker and his staff had gone,
people were helping themselves to bread and cakes. I did so want a loaf, all I
had at home were a few slices of very stale bread. I was so tempted to help
myself, it was the nearest I have ever been to becoming a thief. I waited
hoping the baker would return so that I could buy one from him. The bread had
gone and so had I before he returned. When I arrived home there was Anthony,
the bearer, with two loaves, no doubt he had stolen them but I paid him for
them. It became harder to get food. The raids were more frequent. A census was
taken of all families; my form was brought back — “Had I made a mistake?” I
certainly had. I had stated ‘I was married in 1939 and you were born in 1937’!!
The
Japanese had a habit of raiding us at meal times so we started having breakfast
and lunch at about 10.30 and calling it ‘brunch’. One brunch time early in
February, Mrs O’Neil and I, in fact all the families had a notice telling us we
had to be ready to leave our home by two o’clock. We were to be evacuated. I
was allowed 44 lbs weight for us two; it had to include food for four days,
mosquito net, pillow, blanket and strong walking shoes. It is very difficult to
describe my feelings. We had a very nice home, we had bought all our furniture,
because in those days army furniture was dreadful, this was also our first home
together, we really did take a pride in it. Just pause for a moment, look
around your home then imagine how you would feel at leaving so much, believe me
the smallest thing becomes a treasure. A week before we had this notice several
of our families had left to hike to India, we thought we were on a hike. I had
visions of you and I gradually falling behind the British party, they getting
further and further away, the Japanese getting nearer with you and I between.
However I did not have time to worry about that, I had to get packing.
At
1.30 p.m. I had another notice to tell me not to leave at 2a.m. to wait further
instructions. It had been decided that owing to my affliction, to fly us out of
Burma with the expectant mums. Mrs O’Neil and Jill went off in army lorries
about 2 o’clock. My bearer, ayah and houseboy asked if they could go, they were
heading for India. I was sorry to say good-bye.
I
felt so alone, all the houses were empty, or most of them, the place seemed
dead. I dare not leave the house to see who else was left in case someone came
with another notice. I did see another lady and her children in the distance. I
waited and waited, had tea, around 8 o’clock you were so tired I put you to
bed-dressed. Still I waited, listening to the dreadful news on the wireless,
Malaya and Singapore had fallen, Rangoon and Mandalay in flames, nothing
cheerful or hopeful I felt sure the Japanese would be in Maymyo soon and
decided, Ann, they would not have you. I decided I would drown you in the bath.
I have often wondered if I could have done such a dreadful thing.
Sometime
later I heard footsteps on the veranda and someone trying the front door and
was terrified until I heard a Yorkshire voice asking “Anyone at home?” It was
C.S.M. Birdsall and a corporal. Norman Birdsall greeted me with “What the!!!
are you doing here?” I told him my story and learned that the expectant mums
had left at 4 o’clock; he was surprised to hear I had seen his wife late in the
afternoon. He told me not to leave the house, as he would be back for us. It
seems he and the corporal had been to Mandalay taking rations to the fighting
troops, he had been told his wife and children were flying out with the
‘mums-to-be’ because she had difficulty in walking, he had taken it for granted
they had gone. When they arrived hack from Mandalay they decided to visit all
quarters to check that all doors and windows were locked. Lucky for us they
did!
It
was not very long before they were back with a box gharry, a dreadful thing, in
normal times Europeans were not allowed to ride in them. It was a square box on
four wheels with a horse that was skin and bone and was driven by the corporal.
The men had seen the gharry near the Sergeants Mess, as there was no-one near
they drove it away. You and I, Ann, squeezed inside with Mrs Birdsall and her
children, Joyce 12, Raymond 11and Lorna 5, also inside were all our ‘worldly
goods’. Our goods tied, in a blanket, apart from food were two dresses and
pants for you (you were wearing blouse, slacks and cardigan) a set of undies,
one dress and one surgical shoe for me and, for some unknown reason, your baby
potty. On our way to the station Norman told us that the ‘Walking Party’, the 2
o’clock Party and the expectant mums flight were organised evacuations, we must
have been forgotten and must fend for ourselves. We must get as far away from
Maymyo as we possibly could.
Eventually
we reached Maymyo railway station, here the place was packed with Burmese,
Indians and Chinese with their goods, anything they could carry, and we seemed
to be the only Europeans. The noise was dreadful, everyone shouting. At last a
train arrived, now it was murder, so much pushing, our escorts found seats for
us and at 1.15 a.m. we were away.
What
a journey!! We were in a 3rd class compartment (never used by Europeans) the
seats and backrests were wooden lathes. We had a bench affair, which seated
five, so Mary Birdsall had Lorna on her knee; I nursed you, Joyce, Raymond and
our bundles between us. We were packed like sardines, all the seats were full
and every inch of the floor covered with people squatting. The windows were
blocked by people hanging on from outside, there were no fans or toilets. Your
potty came in useful for you children, Mary and I were uncomfortable but
managed to control ourselves like ‘Pukka-Mem-Sahibs', some of our fellow
passengers were not at all particular!!!
At
2p.m. the next day, after 13 hours in the train we were more than pleased to
leave it, we were hot, hungry, thirsty, dirty and dying to ‘spend a penny’. We
did not know where we were; it was only a small station, packed of course
because everyone was getting off the train. Suddenly we saw a notice ‘White
Gents Only’ and as we could not see a ‘Ladies’ we sent Raymond in to see if the
coast was clear. What a relief! We were all busy at various jobs, washing etc.
when in walked a fellow in the R.A.F. He was as surprised to see us, as we were
pleased to see him. There we were in the ‘Gents’ telling him our tale of woe,
he said if we would wait a few minutes he might be able to help- it was then we
woke up to the fact of why he was there. He had heard of an evacuee camp a few
miles away and offered to take us there in his three-tonner, we had to sit in
the back out of sight because he was not allowed to carry anything but rations.
After a lot of pushing and pulling, we and our bundles were in the back of the
truck and away. We were about two hours driving, during which time we drank
orange juice and ate biscuits. You children thought it great fun. We arrived at
a disused airfield, which had been opened up as an evacuee camp by voluntary
workers, at a place called Shwebo. We said goodbye and thanks to our kind
friend and made our way to a building marked ‘Office’. We were told there were
about 200 people in the camp no Europeans. Many hundreds had passed through;
this was evident by all the things that had been dumped. The dumping ground was
a special part of the camp that had been wired off for that purpose, there was
everything in it, mostly bedding and clothing. Nearby a place for the cars, all
neatly parked, dozens and dozens, just left there. For weeks people had been
leaving Burma, driving to Swebo with as much as they could pack into their
cars, waiting for planes, only to find they had to leave most of their
belongings at the airfield. There was also a hanger packed with bags of mail.
Having reported to the office, we were given three tickets and told to go and
find three beds, we did in the first building we came to. I thought all 200
people were in this long narrow room, they weren’t, there was another similar
building near by. Everyone seemed to be lying or sitting, just waiting.
We had been told that we could get tea and smash potatoes at
the kitchen, off we went with tins of soup, meat, fruit and cream, at the
kitchen we were given a plate, mug, knife, fork and spoon. There were many
tables and chairs around the camp, when the food was ready we went and sat at
one of these and enjoyed our meal because we were so hungry. We walked around
the camp, just to see ‘what was what’. We had left our bundles on our beds
because we had noticed most beds had a bundle on them, however when we
returned, my bundle had been put on one of the other two beds, also my ticket.
The lady who was lying on what I thought was my bed said it was hers and had
been for three nights. We decided to put the beds together. We put you four
children in them and Mary and I slept on the floor either side but it was only
for one night. It was while we were sorting ourselves out that we found someone
had stolen from our bundles. My one and only clean dress and undies were
missing and one of your dresses, Ann. Mary also lost several items of clothing.
I was now left with what I was wearing plus one shoe and you had one dress and
two pairs of pants. This was had enough, but when we found that food had been
taken we felt that was a really mean thing to do. I now had soup, cheese,
biscuits, milk and four bars of chocolate, certainly not enough for two of us
for four days; a lot of Mary’s food had also been taken. No-one had seen anyone
near our beds, there was nothing we could do about it except pool what food was
left, tighten our belts and hope we wouldn’t be at the camp for very long. We
didn’t know where we were going, just hoped a plane would arrive to take us —
anywhere. We were there for ten long days. There was not much to do except
wander around the camp, queue for the toilet and for a wash. The toilets were
dreadful. Just a tent, inside just trenches. The bathroom, another tent with a
few pipes coming out of the ground, from the tap on top a trickle of water
falling into a bucket. You had to wait ages to get enough water to wash hands
and face.
We had several air-raid alarms, the planes were always very
high, they took no notice of us, flew on just as well as there were no shelters
or trenches. One afternoon we were strolling around when the alarm sounded, we
decided to make towards a clump of trees, once again we could see the planes as
specks in the sky when suddenly from no-where, so it seemed, came a plane
flying low, shooting a machine-gun, right across the camp. We threw ourselves
to the ground; I laid over you Ann, this you did not approve of, you really did
yell. The plane had gone, I was just about to get up when I noticed a young
R.A.F fellow crawling towards us, telling me to stay put as the plane would be
back, he was right and back again before he joined his fellow fighters. I did
suggest to this fellow that he made his way to the trees, he wouldn’t, he
stayed with us, you Ann protected by both of us. I felt sorry for this man
because he had lost both his parents in a bombing raid in England.
Each
day on the notice board would be a list of the names of the people who would
leave on the next plane that arrived. The planes came at any old time, it was a
case of when the plane landed, those concerned made their way to it and were
away very quickly. On the eighth day our names were on the list. All day we
waited, but instead of a plane coming to take us away, we were given the grim
news that Burma had capitulated, the Japanese had taken over. I cannot explain
how we felt, we were also told there was little hope of any more planes coming,
if they did they might be intercepted on the way out. We had to decide if we
wanted to return to our homes or stay there and hope for the best. Many people
left the camp. We were the only Europeans left and very few others remained. It
was difficult to know what to do. Mary and I talked about it for ages. We were
hungry, thirsty and dirty, food and water were scarce, in fact, neither Mary
nor I had eaten for three days or drunk for two. You children had a little, it
was awful to hear you ask for food “Mummy I’m hungry”. We would put you off for
as long as we could and then try and make a little go a long way.
We
had somehow or another managed to contact an old man who used to pass the camp,
with signs and our limited knowledge of his language we made him understand we
wanted food. Most days he would bring bits and pieces, perhaps two or three
eggs (these were always scrambled by us as they were easier to divide between
you children), tomatoes, mangoes and the most dreadful looking stale bread. We,
of course had to barter for it, even so we paid high prices, but we were glad
of it.
After
many discussions we, that is Mary and I, decided to stay at the camp, if the
Japanese wanted us they would have to come to us not us go to them, plus the
fact that we didn’t really know how we would get back to Maymyo.
Our
tenth day at camp was much the same as the previous ones; except for the last
four nights we had a bed each. We watched and prayed for a plane to come at the
same tine expecting the Japanese to appear. Early in the evening a plane
arrived, it was not very long before we were on it. Before we boarded our
‘baggage’ was searched we had to throw away anything we didn’t really need, all
I had was a blanket, mosquito net, towel, potty and shoe. I was told to throw
away my shoe, an odd shoe was not important- it was to me- however, I had to
leave it there on the ground. Imagine my surprise when high in the sky, Mary
produced it from under her cardigan, when the searcher looked away she had
picked it up.
I
have no idea what kind of a plane we were in, but there was a sort of tin
looking bench around the inside with dents in it, on which we sat, it was quite
comfortable. Before we took off, we were told to hang on to the strap above our
heads and put our fingers in our ears. How on earth we were expected to do that
I don’t know, plus the fact I had you, Ann, on my lap.
After
a while Raymond decided to walk to the front of the plane, he came back with
the news that the pilot was a Japanese. It was not very long before a man came
from the front of the plane, gave each of us a paper bag in case we were sick-
much to our joy he was Chinese. We asked where we were going, all he did was
grin, guess he did not understand. We were about two hours flying, the lady sat
facing me had her eyes closed most of the time with her paper bag ‘at the
ready’. I remember all her fingers seemed to be covered with rings. Just as I
was thinking of taking you back on to my lap ready for coming down the ‘ring
lady’ was sick, missed her bag and I received the lot on my one and only dress.
She was sorry and so was I. I cleaned it as best I could, it did not really
matter because by now we were all smelly, not having washed properly for twelve
days, plus the fact I hadn’t changed my clothes, in fact I had not taken them
off, all those days. We arrived at Chittergong and were met by two men with a
truck.
It was dark and we couldn’t see anything as we were driven
away, but when we stopped we were looking at a ballroom scene. All the people
in evening dress, the ladies in long flowing robes of every colour dancing to
music- soft, but clear. It was the Chittergong Social Golf Club Dinner Dance.
They had heard evacuees were expected, had arranged for us to be taken to the
club and to be given their dinner. As soon as we appeared the music stopped and
everyone looked our way, we must have looked a very sorry sight, talk about
chalk and cheese, here we were about thirty, dirty, smelly women and children-
they were immaculate. Much to my surprise I heard “There’s Mollie Birch”, it
was a lady who had been on the ‘S.S. Mulberia’ four years earlier when I was
going out to Burma.
In no time at all we were given cups of coffee and you
children milk. It had been arranged that each lady would adopt a woman or child
whilst the men arranged more transport for us. The lady from the Mulberia
adopted me and another lady you. We were taken to a cloakroom where we could
have a really good wash. The next time I saw you Ann you had a shiny face
(first time for days) and a clean dress. We were then taken to the dining room
where the table was beautifully laid. We were advised by a doctor not to eat
too much, as we were not used to full meals. I know I had soup and sponge
pudding. I don’t know what you had as your ‘friend’ was attending to you. It
really was a strange sight; ladies beautifully dressed feeding babies and
toddlers who were none too clean. I am sure there must have been more than one
dress ruined that evening.
Soon we were on our way again, this time in super cars, to
the station where we were put into a four- berth compartment. Now we were
comfortable, with full tummies and fairly clean, with four wide berths and a
toilet between the six of us. So with Joyce and Raymond in the upper berths,
Mary and Lorna in one lower berth and you and I in the other, we settled down
for a good sleep in spite of the fact that we realised we had not asked where
the train was taking us. I know it was about midnight when we settled down, it
was not long before we woke up, the train had stopped, not at a station, but
everyone was getting off the train. We were told there was trouble on the line
the train could not go any further and all we could do was to follow the crowd,
and there certainly was a crowd. To our surprise everyone was walking towards
the back of the train, the way we had just travelled. It’s no fun walking along
a railway line in the dark.
I have no idea how far, or for how long we walked, but I
know I had had more than enough when, still with the crowd, we came off the
rails on to a path which led down a hill, there at the bottom was water and
boats. I don’t know the difference between a boat and a ship. Anyway it was a
sailing vessel. It had one large wooden deck in the centre. A hut with two men
inside, who I suppose were the ‘drivers’. Each side of the boat were two huge
wheels, which turned as we sailed. I suppose it was a paddle steamer.
When it was daylight we saw several boats nearby. They
looked as packed as we were, you had two choices, standing or squatting, but
where you were, there you stayed. We moved away very slowly and once again we
did not know where we were going. To me it seemed a very wide river because
most of the time, although we could see land on either side it was in the far
distance. It was not a bad trip, a beautiful day, we were in the fresh air, ate
biscuits and chocolate and drank from bottles of water given to us at the club.
Late in the afternoon we arrived at a shaky jetty, which was
at the foot of a high bank, everyone scrambled up so we had to do the same.
Mary helped you Ann, Joyce and Raymond helped Lorna and I followed with my
bundle. When we reached the top we saw the railway line stretching for miles
either side of us, like everyone else we sat down for what we thought was a
rest. There were many, many people but we could not see any other Europeans. We
sat there for a long time. In fact we had reached the stage when we wanted to
be on the move again but dare not be the first to move. We had decided to stay
with the crowd, as there was safety in numbers and wait to see what would come
along. Suddenly we heard a train coming, everyone jumped up and stood on the
lines waving and shouting. As it was now getting dusk I hoped the train would
stop, it did. Mary and Raymond hurried with the crowd to meet it, we four
followed, after a lot of pushing and shoving we were all on the train, so was
everyone else. It is surprising how high a railway carriage is when away from a
platform. When the train was slowing down Mary had lifted Raymond to it and he
had reserved that carriage for us, stood guard at the door. It was a two-berth
compartment with a toilet, which was great. Your potty had worked overtime on
the boat, but Mary and I visited the toilet in spite of the fact it was not
moving- well it was not at a station.
Later, after more biscuits and water we settled down to
sleep, Lorna and Raymond sharing the top bunk, Mary and you in the lower, Joyce
in a chair, me on the floor with my bundle as a pillow and believe me we all
slept soundly. The next day, every time the train stopped we looked for the
name of the station; we also bought more biscuits, chocolate and fruit. Early
evening we arrived at Calcutta station, where we decided to leave the train. We
went to a Military Policeman who escorted us to the Railway Transport Officer
who in his turn sent us away in staff cars to Fort William. We had been
wondering how we would get passed the ticket collector because we had travelled
from Burma to India by train, plane, boat and train again without tickets.
Fort William was a Garrison Town on the outskirts of
Calcutta, surrounded by a high wall. I understand it was built as a fortress,
in case of riots, the British families would be safe in there with the gates
closed and guarded. Once again we had to report to an office where we were told
they were over-crowded with refugees, there was not a spare bed but they would
see what they could do. We would be all right the following night, as the next
day, many people would be moving on to other places in India. First of all we
were given a light meal and then taken to a barrack block, which certainly was
crowded. We were taken to a large room; there was one single bed, at one end
lay a very old lady at the other end a young lady with her four-day-old baby.
The floor was covered with women and children, there did not appear to be room
for any one else, our escort moved a few closer together and there was a place
for me to sit in a corner, which was lucky because I could rest against the
wall. So with you on my lap we spent our first night in Calcutta, not
comfortable, but nice to be with British people again. Mary and her family were
on the floor in another room.
Next morning after breakfast several coaches took lots of
people away. I was allocated a room on the second floor with two beds, two
chairs and best of all a shower and toilet. Mary was next door with four beds
and four chairs. We were the only people on the second floor and as there was a
verandah the whole length of the building, there was plenty of room for you to
play. We bought washing powder from a small N.A.A.F.I. and washed our clothes.
I had nothing to change into so I had to do my washing in bits and pieces,
first bra and pants (they did not take long to dry, it was so hot), next my
petticoat, then after lunch, when it was decided everyone to their beds, I
washed my dirty, smelly dress. By the time we had our evening meal, all of us
had washed our hair, had a shower and were dressed in clean, if not ironed,
clothes, I don’t think I ever felt so good.
During the night Ann you were taken ill, long before the
doctor arrived the next morning I knew you had dysentery. The doctor said you
had to go into hospital. When I explained we had only one towel between us and
you did not have a nightdress he gave me a pass to leave the fort, provided me
with a jeep and driver and instructions to go to a certain shop — nowhere else.
Eventually you were in hospital, clean, in a nightie and in a clean comfy bed,
the first time for over three weeks.
Daily coach loads of evacuees left the fort, on the third
day Mary and her family left for the Murrey Hills, I was so very sorry to see
them go. By the end of the week I was the only woman left in the fort. I spent
as much time as I could in the hospital, it was being on my own on the second
floor I did not like, so asked the officer in charge if I could have a room on
the ground floor. All the evacuees were well looked after regarding meals. The
first meal on my own, in what at other times had been a full dining room, was very
strange, the four soldiers who were on duty as cook and waiters were still on
duty just for me. After my lonely meal it was suggested that if I wished I
could have my meals in a smaller dining room with the staff. This I was only
too pleased to do. The staff, two cooks and six waiters, slept in the room next
to mine so I felt safe at night in spite of the fact I did not have a lock on
the door. The staff were kindness itself to me, lent me an iron and shoe
brushes. Every morning there would be a knock on my door and there would be a
mug of tea on the step. For the first few days when I visited the hospital, I
saw you, but you did not see me. I had to have a pass to leave the fort and was
only allowed to go to the hospital, not to town. The hospital was a long way
from the fort, so I used to have a taxi most of the time, and sometimes I went
by jeep.
After a week I was allowed to visit you from 2p.m. until
8.30p.m. this I used to do, at the same time rolling bandages for the hospital.
I still do not know why I did not ask one of the hospital staff to buy me a set
of underclothes and a dress. Every morning I washed my clothes in bits and
pieces, now of course I could iron them. I said I washed my clothes every
morning; really I started just before going to bed. One night I would sleep in
bra and pants, the next night my petticoat, my dress I would wash between
breakfast and lunch. The only time I was fully clothed was when I left the
fort. When our evening meal was finished the staff and I would sit talking until
about 1.30 a.m. waiting for more evacuees to arrive. Several small parties had
arrived; but only stayed the one night. Towards the end of my second week there
I had gone to bed late, only to be awakened by someone grabbing hold of me. I
screamed and pushed with all my strength until I heard “It’s Mollie Birch”. The
‘hiking party’, which had left Maymyo weeks before had arrived, hearing there
was a ‘white lady ‘ in the fort they had come to see who it might be. We were
all so pleased to meet again. Now I had my three friends and their two children
for company. The hiking party consisted of twelve families including an
Anglo-Indian girl who was deaf and dumb. Next day at breakfast an appeal was
made for anyone who could understand the sign language to report to the C.O.s
office. This I did, because eighteen years before when I was in a children’s
hospital, we were taught the sign language so that we could ‘talk’ to a deaf
and dumb child in our ward. The result was that within a few days her parents
had been contacted, brought to Calcutta and had taken their daughter home.
After three weeks you were out of hospital and a week later,
we and our friends, were in a first class compartment of a train on our way to
the Simla Hills. My friends, as you know Ann, were Lottie Goldthorpe and her
son Keith, Betty Bootland and her son Ian and Lil Butler. Twenty-four hours
later we arrived at a small station called Ambala. Here transport was waiting
to take us on a two-hour drive. Round the hills climbing all the time to a place
called Subathu, our journey was over, seven weeks after leaving Maymyo- a
journey that was to have taken four days.
(source: A2820214 Ann Dear 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)
In
1942 I found myself in Burma, in the Shan States. I was 22 years old and had
been in the army for a few years already, but it was still a long way from
Batley in West Yorkshire where I had been brought up!
I
was there as part of a group of Special Forces. At the end of 1941, on 7
December, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and the following day Britain and
the USA declared war on Japan. This war didn't go well for us at first.
19
January 1942: Japanese advance into Burma
1
February 1942: British army retreat to Singapore
15
February 1942: Singapore falls to Japan
1
May 1942: Japanese capture Mandalay, Burma
The only way out
I was stuck in the middle of nowhere and had to find somewhere to go before the Japanese came. There were no proper roads. Even now the area is very desolate. A small group of men and I decided that the only way out was to walk out.
We
had to cross the foothills of the Himalayas, which rise to over 8,000ft. There
were many rivers, which ran in steep gorges and were difficult to cross. To
cross we had to climb down 2,000ft through very thick jungle. The wide, fast-flowing
river at the bottom was made up of 'ice melt' water from the mountains, so it
was very cold. Once we had crossed the river, we then had to climb all the way
back up to 8,000ft.
The
jungle was so thick that we couldn't walk in a straight line. We often walked
five or six miles to climb back up to the top of the gorge, which may only have
been three quarters of a mile as the crow flies. On the map it looks as though
I walked about 400 miles, but in reality, because of the number of rivers to
cross and the difficult terrain, it was much further. When we got to the top of
each gorge, we would look back and could see the other side. We had probably
only travelled half a mile and it had taken several days.
I
had a map made of silk, so that it could be stuffed into a pocket. However,
only parts of this region were mapped. Most of the map was just white! I still
have this map on my wall today.
Even
a current map of the area describes the roads as very primitive and there are
still large areas of the map that are shown as 'Relief Data Incomplete'.
The
villages were very small and we didn't dare stay in them for health reasons. We
always camped a mile or two away, and usually upstream. The villages were
always by a mountain stream and the people who lived there drew their water
from upstream and used the lower stream as a sewer.
Our route
On 28 April 1942 we left Kentung in the Shan States in an old lorry, heading north west.
Day
4 - Mongnoi, Wa State. On foot with ponies
Day
11 - Crossed Nam Loi River. Originally heading for Lashio but we changed plans
here and decided to head for China.
Day
12 -Tolou, Wa State.
Day
22 - Crossed Nam Lan River. Now in China.
Day
27 - Ta Ya Koi, Yunnan Province, three miles from Mekong River. We were warned
not to go to crossing point at Sau Mao as it was held by Chinese army deserters
and bandits. Camped up river.
Day
28 - Crossed Mekong River. The Mekong River is approximately 2,800 miles long.
It runs in steep gorges for most of the upper course. Where I crossed the river
the gorge was an incredible 8,000 feet deep.
Day
29 - Crossed Taku River. Camped here.
Day
41 - Hsia Pa. Crossed Black River.
Day
42 - Tung Kuan. A broad cultivated valley.
Day
48 - Yuan Chiang Chou. A walled city approximately 1,600 feet above sea level. Camped
here preparing to cross the Red River. The delta of the Red River is in
Vietnam.
Day
51 - Crossed Red River.
Day
56- Hsin-Haing Chou. Also called Ishi or Yu-Hsi. Start of motor road to
Kunming. We did the last 80 miles in a battered old lorry! What luxury!
I
got to Kun Ming after 62 days of walking. I am quite a tall man and when I got
there I was very, very thin and weighed less than eight stone. We had to eat
our ponies on the way to stay alive.
In
Kun Ming I stayed with the American Volunteer Group (AVG), who were American
civilians flying fighter planes and transport planes for China.
I
was then 'flown over The Hump' to Dingjan in Assam, India, then to Dum-Dum near
Calcutta the following day. 'The Hump' is a region in Western Yunnan consisting
of high mountains running in long ranges from north to south. The Salween,
Mekong and Yangtze Rivers run parallel to each other in spectacularly deep
trenches separated by snow peaks.
There
were no seats, no crew, no gunners, and no wireless operator, only a pilot. The
loss rate was more than 25 per cent. The pilots were paid in gold American
dollars and allowed two hundredweight of 'profitable goods' (ie smuggled
contraband) on each trip. But it was better than walking!
My
pilot was a Texan who never took the cigar out of his mouth for the whole trip.
To avoid being attacked by the Japanese, we had to fly through the gorge of the
Kali Gandaki River, which is much deeper and longer than the Grand Canyon, and
cuts through the Himalayas. The mountains on each side soar to over 28,000
feet, but the plane couldn't fly this high.
The
pilot said in a broad southern American drawl, 'See those mountains over there?
They're thirty thousand feet! Wanna know the ceiling of this kite? Eighteen
thousand feet! We're lookin' for a pass that is fifteen thousand feet…
sometimes we find it - sometimes we don't...'
I
didn't ask what happened if we didn't find it, but you can guess!
(source: A1135027 A Soldier's Long Walk from Burma to China 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)
c/o
Lloyds Bank Ltd
37
Chowringhee
CALCUTTA
1942
My
dear Mum, Dad and Henry,
This
is going to be a long long letter and will take a long time to write. It is the
first letter I have been able to attempt since mine dated 1st December 1941 —
nearly seven months ago! These seven months have been the most eventful of my
life so far and whilst I sincerely regret not having written to you therein I
think you will agree, when you have read this letter, that the opportunities
for writing have been few and far between and if they have occurred at all the
circumstances were hardly conducive to the production of a reasoned letter. I
have tried to bridge the gap by sending you a cable now and again to let you
know that, despite many attempts by the Japs to introduce me to the next world,
I was still alive and kicking. I also thankfully received your cables in
Rangoon congratulating me on being commissioned and in Mandalay in reply to
mine from there. I was also delighted to get Aunty Mina’s cable in April last.
Remembering
Mum’s unfailing habit of always reading the end of a book first (and how it used
to annoy me, at home) I will start this story at the end by telling you what
you presumably want to know most — that I arrived in India from Burma in good
health and unscathed after being on active service throughout the entire Burma
campaign. I lost a good deal of weight, however, having dropped from about 9
stone 7 lbs to 8 stone 6 lbs. This loss I am now regaining under the influence
of rest and good food once again. I am starting this letter in Mhow where I
arrived on 18th June and am resting for a few days preparatory to going on 31
days leave. I have lost everything that I ever possessed except my cash in the
bank, having arrived in India with nothing more than the shirt and shorts which
I was wearing, my topée, my boots and socks, a mud sodden blanket and a
waterproof cape. Of these only the boots and topée were really my own and they
cannot be worn again in a civilised community. Everything else is gone with the
yellow wind but what the hell, so long as I still have my life and health!
Before
I start my story let me explain that some of the events I am about to describe
may not appear in their chronological order and some of the dates I mention may
not be accurate. I did not keep a diary — even had I done so it would have been
lost — and whilst “on the job” one was inclined to be oblivious of the date or
day of the week. Also I am writing from memory starting from seven months ago
and some of the memories may not come back to me in their proper order although
I shall do my best to encourage them to do so. However, I do not suppose this
will worry you so long as you have a cohesive account of my adventures. Here,
then, is the story:-
(source: A8062616 Rangoon Battalion: Foreword and Preface 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)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Japan is still at India's
door. The R.A.F. sharply reminded India's sahibs and indifferent millions of this fact last week.
A communiqué reported that in 46 days R.A.F.
planes had dropped 100 tons of bombs on Japanese troop and supply
concentrations moving into northern
Burma, near the mountainous but by no means inpregnable,* border of India.
*New Delhi last week
reported that 500,000 Burmese refugees had arrived in India. Some traveled by sea and air, but most of them,
surviving malaria and dysentery, living on
food dropped by R.A.F. planes, found their way over hidden trails from
Burma into Bengal and Assam.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Time Magazine)
In the meantime, my mother had been evacuated from Calcutta to Dehra Dun for safety. The Japanese were getting closer and my father had a motor launch packed with vital equipment ready to make a quick dash up the river Hooghly.
We were six days and five nights altogether on the train. Troops were travelling eastwards towards the front line and our train kept being put into sidings to let their trains move on - hence the length of the journey.
(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)
Being of school age, in March 1941 I went to boarding school in Shillong, Assam, and my brother went to school in Darjeeling. We came back to Calcutta in December for three months, then back to school again in March 1942. We were only back at school for a short while when we had to be evacuated. The Japanese were making headway up through Burma and, in fact, were near Imphal - just over the hills from Shillong. My destination was a sister school in Simla, at the other side of India.
In the meantime, my mother had been evacuated from Calcutta to Dehra Dun for safety. The Japanese were getting closer and my father had a motor launch packed with vital equipment ready to make a quick dash up the river Hooghly.
We were six days and five nights altogether on the train. Troops were travelling eastwards towards the front line and our train kept being put into sidings to let their trains move on - hence the length of the journey. Trains in India have different rail gauges, which means changing trains as and when the gauges changed. The last part of the journey was by bus on the winding mountainous roads. On arrival at Simla we were a sorry bunch - very dirty, hot, hungry and, above all, thirsty.
I hated the school in Simla. Since we were all caught up in the emergency, we had to sleep on camp cots in a large dormitory and the sanitation was very basic. It was wonderful when December came along and we left Simla. On our way we stopped off in Delhi and were taken for a sightseeing tour in a Tonga. Eventually we were on our way - next stop Howrah Station, Calcutta.
(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)
On
Saturday 31st October we were issued, that is the wireless operators of our unit,
with a document asking for volunteers to man observation posts hundreds of
miles away in the jungle hills of the Assam Burmese border. If the Japanese
advanced we were to stay until the last, then take off and become guerrilla
fighters under Army Officers and would become part what was to be called a
special "V" Force army. We didn't stop to think what we might be
letting ourselves in for, so we all volunteered and I've got the document to
prove it!
On
Monday 16th November 1942, we left Calcutta for Silchar in Assam by train, this
was to be the start of what we had come all this way to do.
(source: A4254059 AN RAF WIRELESS OPERATOR ON THE BURMA FRONT (Part 2 of 3) at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)
In all, I was in India forty-three years, and my opinion of the Indian people stands very high, in spite of all my hardships from time to time.
The war with Japan in the early 1940s was a hard trial for India, as there were many Indians who wished the downfall of the British Empire and, in 1942, it was near open rebellion.
Mahatma Gandhi, at that time, showed his real, true nature. He had the sway of the masses and when the ill-feeling toward Britain was at its highest, he stood firm and announced:
'It will be to India's lasting shame and disgrace if she stabs England in the back when she is so sorely pressed, fighting the fight other life for the freedom of nations.'
His cry was heard and upheld, and the Indians followed his advice; and, instead of revolting, rallied around the old British flag and put their manpower and resources at England's disposal. I think that was a most noble action, especially from Mahatma Gandhi's side, considering all he had suffered at their hands during his long and bitter fight for India's freedom.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with 1999 Margaret [Olsen] Brossman)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mr. Pig's-Hair and Mr. Turtle-Liver thought that the yellow men had come
from the spirit world. Whether the yellow men were good or evil spirits,
Messrs. Pig's-Hair, Turtle-Liver and the other naked Negritos of the Andaman
Islands did not yet know. The little blacks had just seen the British leave the
Officers' Club and its lovely promenade on Ross Island in Port Blair's harbor,
the weather station and the stores in Port Blair itself, and sail off to India
across the Bay of Bengal.
Now yellow soldiers had come with guns, ships and planes to the Andamans.
The change made very little difference to the Jarawa and the Onge on the coasts
and in the jungle. They were too far gone in native malaria and imported
syphilis. Whoever owned the Andamans, there would soon be no more of the little
men and their little women to watch, with sick and saddened eyes, the comings
& goings of the conquerors from the sick world beyond their islands.
Hopeful Forfeit. The Japanese conquest of the Andamans made a great
difference to the Japanese, to Britain and to India. The British at New Delhi
had to admit that it was conquest by default. The small garrison, the few
colonials, civil servants and guards at the Indian penal center in Port Blair
had abandoned the Andamans to the Japs. Ready for plucking were the 204 big
& little Andamans and the adjoining Nicobar Islands, which curve between
Burma's central coast and the northern tip of Sumatra, locking a gateway to the
Bay of Bengal and the Indian Ocean.
From the many harbors and airdrome sites in the Andamans, the Japs can
now send ships, submarines and planes against the sea traffic of Calcutta and
Madras, along India's eastern coast. Getting supplies to the British and
Chinese troops in Burma will be even more difficult and risky than it became
after the Japs took lower Burma. With the conquered coast of Burma, the
Andamans can become bases for the invasion of India itself, or of Ceylon.
Yet in military terms, the British withdrawal made good sense: lacking
the men, ships and planes for effective defense of the Andamans, General Sir
Archibald Wavell had wisely chosen to save what he had for the coming Battle of
India. It was a sign that the British were done with brave but hopeless
sacrifices. It was also a sign of their military weakness in India.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Time Magazine)
As the Japanese squeeze India through Burma and the Andaman Islands, they grasp at the biggest remaining segment of Britain's Empire. They close on United Nations routes to China, Russia and the Middle East. But, aside from India's strategic values, India also has an industrial area which is well worth grabbing for itself.
Indian ironmasters in the Fourth Century knew how to work bigger masses of iron than any European foundry could handle 1,500 years later (Europe and the U.S. caught up in the 19th Century). Now, at the great Tata works in Jamshedpur, 135 miles inland from Calcutta, the inheritors of that tradition produce most of India's steel (1,250,000 tons per year—about 1½% of U.S. production). They make armor plate, steel bars for guns, shells, other munitions. At last reports, 600,000 complete shells and 150,000,000 rounds of small-arms ammunition had gone out from Indian plants to British war zones. Also near Calcutta are many of India's textile mills, its richest coal and iron deposits.
Southward, in the State of Mysore, is another great industrial concentration, where Indian workmen produce iron & steel, even a few airplanes (trainers and Curtiss Hawk fighters). Now the British wish that more of India's industries were on the west coast, fewer on and near the Bay of Bengal's vulnerable shoreline. India's industrial prizes, in the Calcutta area, lie at the end of the shortest sea and air route from Burma.
To the south is Ceylon, only 50 miles from the Indian mainland, across a string of partially submerged sandspits called "Adam's Bridge." Once in Ceylon, holding its naval base at Trincomalee and the great commercial port of Colombo, the Japs need not cross Adam's Bridge. For they would then have the Bay of Bengal. If they dominate its routes to Calcutta and Madras, the Japs will be very near to having India.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Time Magazine)
The Japanese invaded India. When their warships and planes struck in the Bay
of Bengal, they struck as directly at the troubled mainland as if their troops
had landed in Calcutta.
If the Japs win the Bay of Bengal, they will have all but won the Battle
of India. They did not win the Bay last week. But they inflicted terrible naval
losses on the British. Near the key island of Ceylon, at the southwestern
entrance to the Bay of Bengal, R.A.F. fighters knocked down at least 75 Jap
planes. Yet, after a week of combat, the British were weaker, the Japanese were
relatively stronger than they had been when the battle started.
Off Malaya, off Java and now off India, the naval story was the same: the
U.S. and British were caught by superior Japanese forces. The Allies in these
areas had lost the equivalent of a formidable fleet: two capital ships (Prince
of Wales, Repulse), four heavy cruisers, three or more light cruisers, twelve
to 15 destroyers. At any one place and time, with effective air support, they
could have beaten the Japs. As it was, piecemeal, the Allies lost both the ships
and the battles.
The Admiralty Regrets. Jap battleships, cruisers, aircraft carriers,
destroyers, probably submarines moved toward India from the recently occupied
Andaman Islands, some 900 miles across the Bay of Bengal. The U.S. Air Force's
Major General Lewis Hyde Brereton had led a flight of Flying Fortresses to the
Andamans and bombed Jap troopships there. From their Indian bases, his
Fortresses presumably roved the embattled Bay last week. They were not enough;
the Bay was too big, and the Japs too many.
The beginning was bad. Off eastern India, between Calcutta and Madras,
Jap warships and planes closed on a British merchant fleet. Some 500 survivors
said nothing about air defense from nearby India, nothing of defense by any
accompanying British warships. Tokyo later claimed that in this and other
attacks, the Japanese sank 2 merchantmen, damaged 23 more. New Delhi admitted
some merchant losses.
Worse was to come. Fighter-bombers from Jap aircraft carriers spotted two
heavy cruisers, the Dorsetshire and the Cornwall. Both ships had proud records
in the Royal Navy; the Dorsetshire's torpedoes sank the Bismarck in 1941 (after
she had been crippled by aerial attack). Under Jap bombs the cruisers went
down. If they had air protection, neither British nor Japanese communiques
mentioned it.
Worst was last, for finally the many Japs struck at sea-air power.
Carrier-based bombers attacked Ceylon's naval and air base at Trincomalee.
R.A.F. fighters in the area concentrated on the defense of the base. That was
too bad. Some 70 miles from Trincomalee, only ten miles offshore, was Britain's
ancient, smallest aircraft carrier, the 15-plane Hermes. Perhaps her planes
never got off the flight deck, perhaps they, too, were engaged over
Trincomalee. Or perhaps they were simply overwhelmed. Down went the bombed
Hermes.
British and U.S. planes roamed the Bay. Some of them, probably R.A.F.
bombers from Ceylon, tracked down a Jap carrier and attacked. They missed; they
also "suffered some losses." The Royal Navy still had
"substantial forces" in the Bay of Bengal; enemy accounts mentioned
at least several more cruisers, another aircraft carrier, two battleships
(including the old, U.S.-repaired Malaya). The British figured that the Japs
had three of their newest 50,000-ton battleships, five aircraft carriers, a
strong complement of cruisers and destroyers. Gloomiest index of the results of
the first battles for the Bay was a British call for help from the U.S. Navy.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Time Magazine)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Walking down Chowringhee Avenue under my bright-coloured parasol, feeling happy, boasting of Germany’s ligtning victories and talking of the coming world New Order in Indian tea-parties.
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with Nicholas Goodrick-Clarke)
As the local families departed for the cooler hill estates each of the Squadrons were offered large houses as self-contained Squadron messes, complete with staff. 136 Squadron was billeted in a very pleasant two-storeyed villa known as The Woodpeckers’ Hole after the Squadron signature tune. They shared at least four to a room except of course, for the CO and it was pure luxury, for a while, with linen and ceiling fans. Little did they know that they would not see such luxury again.
One hot and sticky Calcutta night, those on dawn readiness had retired early hoping to get some rest if not sleep. Just as Connie was falling asleep, two pilots who had been chatting quietly on the outside verandah shook him awake. It was purist John Bucchan. A series of morse code flashes had been spotted, emanating apparently from an upstairs room in the house next door.
They were quick to dress as flying kit, boots and revolvers were on the bedside chairs ready for the following day. The intrepid pilots set off quickly but quietly down the stairs, across the garden and up over the wall, under a moonless sky towards the flashes.
Connie and Ian Adamson were first to enter the house. Brought up on a youthful diet of Kipling and Biggles, they made their way quietly and undetected, drawn pistols in hand, up to the turret room at the top of the house. In the centre of the room which had a panoramic view over Calcutta and the Ganges Delta stood a powerful transmitting lamp and several open books on tables nearby. Half a dozen astonished Bengalis stood frozen, caught in the act!
When challenged they urged the Woodpeckers to put away their revolvers. They protested their innocence, they were only bookmakers’ clerks going about their daily business. The books were not code-books, merely the tools of their trade! The Woodpeckers assuming suitably stern exteriors, continued to cover them with their revolvers, standing with their backs to the door, until to their relief they heard the ringing tones of the C.O. ( Jimmy Elsdon) demanding to know where his men were. Being twice wounded in the Battle of Britain, he had come round the longer route with the remaining pilots. He immediately took in the scene and sent for the Provost Marshall. The latter on arrival promptly took command and the Woodpeckers went home.
Some weeks later as Connie was feeding Babu, the tame Squadron brown Bear, some tea from a soft drinks bottle, the C.O. arrived with news from the PM. The Squadron received hearty thanks for their aid; the men had been convicted of being fifth columnists and duly dealt with; the Bear choked on his tea!
(source: A6784653 MORE TALES FROM THE WOODPECKERS - GORDON CONWAY and 136 Fighter Squadron Calcutta 1942 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)
They [the bombers of Kidderpore Docks in 1943] were above the range of our anti-aircraft guns and must have been well informed, because our air defence fighter squadron had been sent away on a mission, so the Japs knew themselves safe.
It
is correct when I say that a man was later discovered at Fort William, who said
he was half-Chinese. He had a job in the Wireless Telegraphy Department and was
sending messages on the QT to the Japs. He was then put against the Fort's wall
and shot for treason.
It
was obvious that someone had been busy because, prior to that, a convoy of
seventeen ships leaving Calcutta was met about 100 miles out, in the Bay of
Bengal by a Japanese cruiser - and not one of them escaped!
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with 1999 Margaret [Olsen] Brossman)
EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION: […] Paperback readers believe that spying and attendant dangers occur only in the pages of novels. Not so. The event which is the subject of this issue of MEMORIES occurred during the Christmas holidays of 1944 in Calcutta. James Garcia had served in the 40th in Puerto Rico and Panama. He returned to the States, rose to colonel and went to India as Intelligence Officer of the XX Bomber Command.
On June 15,1944, the first B-29 raid on Japan was carried out. Col. Garcia flew on the raid with his brother-in-law, Winton Close (40th and later 444th). The world, and especially Washington, was waiting for word that bombs had been dropped on Japan. A code word was established to be flashed over the radio when the bombs were released if the mission was a success. That code word was "Betty," the name of Jim Garcia's wife.
Against the possibility of capture if he flow over enemy territory, special permission had to be obtained from the XX Air Force in Washington for Col. Garcia to fly the mission. Approval was received by scrambled telex at the Bomber Command Headquarters in Kharagpur only just in time. Meanwhile, as is known, U.S. cryptographers had cracked the Japanese most secret code. Security was so tight that transmission of such information was extremely limited.
In fact, only just prior to the June 15 mission, an officer was dispatched from Washington to brief Gen. K.B. Wolfe and his Intelligence Officer, Col. Garcia, on information derived from this code- cracking effort.
Col. Garcia sensed that the briefing would hold such high classified information that he would be precluded from flying the mission if he knew it. Accordingly, he sent his deputy Col. George A. Stinson, to attend the briefing in his place.
By the time Christmas 1944 had come around, Col. Garcia had received orders transferring him to Guam. Celebrating Christian holidays in a non-Christian land was an alien experience; but American troops, with their British counterparts, carried on their traditions in India at this season as best they could! Garcia was invited to a Christmas party in Calcutta. As Leonard Lozano, who was, at that time, M/Sgt. and chief clerk of the Bomber Command Intelligence section notes, "The Christmas party was only an incidental part of an official trip to Calcutta. I remember Col. Garcia would not go 60 feet from his quarters to attend a party-much less 60 miles."
On this evening in Calcutta, Col. Garcia was driving his own car. He agreed to drive some nurses, who were attending the party, back to their quarters. It was his intention to spend the night with a U.S. Naval officer friend who was stationed in Calcutta and who had an apartment in the city. Heading toward his friend's apartment after returning the nurses to their quarters, Garcia became uncertain of directions. (How could it be otherwise in the streets of Calcutta at night?) To orient himself, he stopped to read a street sign at an intersection. To better read the sign, he got out of the car leaving the engine running.
It was at that moment that he was jumped by perhaps four men. They asked him to come with them. Garcia protested, saying that he was just an American officer having no knowledge of anything that would be of use to them. One of his captors responded by saying, "We know who you are, Col. Garcia."
Well his captors could say they knew who he was. Garcia recognized one of them who was Chinese and who walked with a decided limp. He had attended the Christmas party where Col. Garcia had also been a guest. (Knowing that Col. Garcia could not possibly fail to identify him, removes from speculation the chances that the Colonel would have survived this kidnapping.)
Garcia was forced into a car which he recognized as being of American make. Garcia also made another life-saving observation, it was that, on this make of car, the door release was activated by pushing the door handle forward. The car was being driven at moderate to slow speed. The captors drove in a pattern of turns and changes of direction intending to confuse Garcia so that he would not know where he was when they reached their destination. Thwarting this move, Garcia kept track of the turns that were made and continued to hold a picture in his mind where they were. He was being loosely held in the back seat between two of his captors, with another in the front and the fourth driving. As they made a turn, Garcia leaned in that direction and eased forward as if to absorb the turn. In doing so, he suddenly fell forward, pushed down on the door handle and opened the door. As he tumbled forward, one of his captors reached out and slashed Garcia in the back with a knife. Garcia got to his feet and dashed back in the direction of his car, backtracking from the spot of his escape. He reached the intersection and there his car still stood with the engine running. He jumped in and made his escape. He made it to the quarters of his Navy friend and together they patched the slash in his back sufficient to hold until he could get to a military hospital. He was awarded the Purple Heart for wounds suffered in this encounter.
British counterintelligence was brought into the case and they said they believed they knew who the perpetrators were. One of the kidnappers had a friend in a Calcutta hospital. When it was known that his suspect was going to visit the hospital, it was arranged to have an appropriate CID man bedded next to the patient. Screens were positioned and Garcia was introduced into the screened area in an effort to listen to the voices to see if he might be able to identify them. The effort was inconclusive. Being scheduled for transfer to Guam, Garcia did not participate further in the investigation of the incident. No successful conclusion ever was reached.
General LeMay, in 1988, noted that the purpose of the kidnapping was never determined for sure although it was thought that somehow the Chinese might have been involved. The only action taken by the Bomber Command was to close the Chinese restaurants that had concessions at some of our bases. That was unfortunate, this officer observed, because we were on British rations and the Chinese restaurants were the only places a good meal could be found.
Garcia served in the Marianas as Intelligence Officer of the XXI Bomber Command. He had not previously qualified as a pilot of a B-29 and he wished to be so qualified, before returning home when the war was over. Tragically, he was killed in a crash while shooting landings on the last day of the war.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Private
Harold Hillary
Service
No 3601798, 4th Battalion, Border Regiment
He
died aged 24 on 12 August 1942. He was the son of John and Margaret Hillary; and
the husband of Agnes Hillary, of Egremont.
Remembered
with honour at Calcutta (Bhowanipore) Cemetery , India
(Grave
Reference : Plot H. Grave 49)
(source: A5394927 Sons and daughters of Egremont, Cumbria who laid down their lives in World War Two. at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)
Colour
Serjeant Robert Wells Postlethwaite:
Service
No 3594553, 2nd Battalion, Border Regiment.
He
died aged 33 on 24 March 1940. He was the son of James and Barbara Ann
Postlethwaite, of Egremont, and the husband of Mary Jane Postlethwaite, of
Workington (a town a short distance to the north of Egremont).
Remembered
with honour at Calcutta (Bhowanipore) Cemetery
(Grave
Reference: Plot H. Grave 73).
(source: A5394927 Sons and daughters of Egremont, Cumbria who laid down their lives in World War Two. at BBC WW2 People's War' on http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/ Oct 2006)
(COPYRIGHT NOTICE: Reproduced under 'fair dealing' terms as part of a non commercial educational research project. The copyright remains with the original submitter/author)
[…]
then came to my quarters where I have been
reading through a swath of
Republican-Couriers. I noticed a J. Dark Moore was listed as a casualty. Could
that be the Dark I went to school with?
(Source:
page 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)
The letter was dated 22May [1943]. We heard no more. In late July Mae received a letter from Roy’s mother. Aunt Jessie and Uncle Stephen had been informed that Roy was missing, presumed dead. No other information was given. […] one day by sheer chance met an officer in the RAF who dealt with reports on missing pilots. He gave us all the information that was available. It transpired that on 24 May, Roy, along with another Fighter pilot, was sent on a reconnaissance mission over Burma. Having completed their mission the two young me were talking to each other on the radio during the return fight when the surviving pilot lost contact with Roy. After circling around in a futile search for some sign and hearing no answer to his call and with his fuel running out he was forced to return to base.
The supposition was that both pilots were flying low up a valley and Roy was unlucky enough to strike the hillside. […] Neither he or his plane were ever found.
(source:page 104 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)
On
the 10th August 1944, all of our aircraft Royal Air Force 615 (County of
Surrey) Fighter Squadron were flying from Palel in Assam to Baigachi, Bengal.
We where about 80 miles east of Calcutta when we flew into a monsoon storm.
I
saw the Commanding Officer's Section disappear above me and I glanced in the cockpit,
my instruments had, had it. There was no visibility and none of the planes
controls were working. I made up my mind that it was time I parted company with
the aircraft. This wasn't easy, the hook stuck and I had a hell of a job.
Finally, it came away and to the right mainplane about three feet from the
centre section. Hells teeth, I thought I had been in a hurry up until then, but
I really got going now. In fact, I jumped out helmet and all plugged in. I must
have swung like pendulum going around for few seconds, that seemed like hours,
waiting for the thud of the ground, when I felt a jerk.
I
looked up and from that moment on I have a passion for mushrooms. There above
me was the chute letting me down and the chute began to fold in and spill air.
I pulled on the rigging lines, as I had been told and was able to control the
rate of descent. It was about 20 seconds before I saw the ground or should I
say river. Yes, I landed up to my neck in water. I was helped by natives to
shelter. After an hours rest, I heard news of another pilot who was a few
villages away, who had been injured. I was able to get to him later that day
and a sampon took us to the nearest motorable road.
We
arrived in Calcutta the following day. Here, we received news that the Commanding
Officer had been killed and three others. Eight of the other machines got
through safely after being sucked right out of the cloud into brilliant
sunshine. An airman at control ops was able to vector them in safely. This
airman for his wide awake action received a mention in despaches. The
Commanding Officer's body was the only body recovered, as it was thought the
others were in an area that it would not be possible to get to. So these were
posted missing believed killed.
The
Commanding Officer was buried in Calcutta. He was thought so much of by his
Squadron, that a letter was sent to his mother asking what she would like as a
memorial to him. Funds were raised and a stainless glass window is now
installed in the church in his home town in Australia.
He
was held responsible for the accident by a court of enquiry, but I still
wonder, if it was an error on his part. Three pilots bailed out successfully
and one force-landed.
CASUALTY
LIST 10TH AUGUST 1944
Lost:
*Squadron
Leader D. McCormack, Distinguished Flying Cross and Bar, Royal Australian Air
Force (Killed)
*Flying
Officer W.S.Bond Royal Canadian Air Force (Killed)
*Flying
Officer M.Pain Royal Australian Air Force (Missing believed killed)
*Warrant
Officer Chappell, Royal Australian Air Force, (Missing believed killed)
BALED
OUT
*Flying
Officer Costain Royal Air Force (Broken leg)
*Flying
Officer Armstrong Royal Canadian Air Force (Dislocated knee cap)
*Flying
Officer F.P.Fahy, Royal New Zealand Air Force (Twisted knee)
FORCE
LANDED
*Flying
Officer Watson Royal Air Force (Unhurt)
8
other Squadron Aircraft and Pilots landed safely.
'LEST
WE FORGET'
(source: A2590634 RAF 615 FIGHTER SQUADRON IN MONSOON OVER INDIA WORLD WAR II 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)
Another
month or passed when the atomic bomb was dropped on to Japan, this bringing the
far eastern hostilities to a close. There were a number of us girls that were
married to young men of the Suffolk Regt, and soon after V J. day had passed
some of these girls were getting a card from their husbands stating that they
would soon be getting home, also receiving official conformation that their
loved ones were safe and would very soon be returning home .I was not one of
the lucky ones to receive this information, Soon after this some of the lads
were arriving home, by plane, ship or train. There was going to be a homecoming
party. The girls at work were so discreet, and were unable to confide in me as
to what was happening as they knew that I had not yet heard of any news of my
husband tried to adapt myself to the situation as best I could. I still have
pictures of some of the lads arriving at the station, As the days passed the
lads gradually left to take their wives to their own homes, leaving me still
without any further news at this point.
I
did visit the doctor and he did advise me to try to get out and socialise more,
if not I would likely be around, when eventually my husband was able to return.
He more or less advised me not to give up entirely. I took his advise, although
my health began to suffer due to the long hours that I was doing, and my mother
having had a serious accident, plus four children to be looked after (we have
two evacuee children staying with us now) I was obliged to leave the factory.
But believe it or not, after a short period I took on another, job also an
exempt job, this time I was working for the government with the Forestry
commission. This job was more suitable to me because of the shorter workday; it
gave me more time to help out at home as my mother was more handicapped now. My
job was to receive the cut wood from the saw and to gate tally it as it came
through the mill. I was taught to do gate tally and other various work with
wood. I still love the trees and always have, (even when they are cut up)
By
this time my thoughts were well into my work but out of working hours my
prayers and thoughts would be of my husband and in my heart I knew that God
would spare and send him back to me if at all possible. And low and behold at
the end of September 1945, in the evening at about 7 0’clock,we had just
finished, tea and was getting the children ready for bed, when the door bell
rang, one child was in the bath the other one was ready, mother was sitting in
her arm chair, I answered the door, and to my horror there stood a policeman on
the door step. I was amazed, and my first thoughts were, have the children been
up to mischief anywhere?
The
policeman said, “Good evening, is Mrs Stebbeds in?” .I said “yes I am Mrs
Stebbeds, is any thing the matter”. He said “May I come in” I replied “please
do “, He entered our house and after offering him a seat addressed me and said
that a phone call had been received from the War office stating that my husband
was alive and safe and was in a military hospital in Calcutta and that I would receive official notification from the
war office in the morning. This I did receive next morning with an address to
which I could write to .The children cried, mother fainted, and I am sorry to
say that I cannot describe to you the way I felt .All I knew was that my
prayers to God had been answered and that he was sending him back to me .A week
after these events I did receive a letter from my beloved husband himself. But
it was not until the end of November that I heard from him to say that he hoped
to be home before Christmas .The last few months had been a living nightmare,
then came the final letter from Sid to say he would be arriving home on the
7-30 p-m train from Norwich to North Walsham
Please
don’t ask me to explain my feelings to this news, as they are so vivid.
(source: A3240424 My Husband Was Missing 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)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Home
● Sitemap ●
Reference ●
Last
updated: 19-May-2009
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If there
are any technical problems, factual inaccuracies or things you have to add,
then please contact the group
under info@calcutta1940s.org