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PART THREE

AN AIRMAN in SOUTH EAST ASIA COMMAND
by
Ken Armstrong

We appeared to be very fortunate in that we suffered very few aircraft losses due to enemy activity. One plane was hit by a 303 type bullet which did not affect the ability to fly and the aircraft returned safely, but on investigation it was discovered that the bullet had penetrated the main frame and the plane was thereafter declared unserviceable. Another plane, whilst being air tested after a major inspection went into a spin, the pilot was unable to regain control and it dived straight into the ground just behind the domestic quarters killing the pilot immediately. Efforts were made to recover the body but without success so a grave was made at the site. The occupants of the nearby village looked after the grave thereafter. I think we lost one plane in an air raid.

It soon became obvious that we could not continue to fly Aircraft and adequately defend the Air Strip. Guard duties every other night meant that everybody from the C.O. down were too tired to properly carry out our duties. Air Raids and shelling interrupted servicing of Aircraft and Army requirements could not be met. Essential supplies could only be delivered by air and it was obvious the Army had to be supplied. We could operate better from another Airstrip so it was decided that we should evacuate Imphal. Very early in 1943 supply-dropping D.C.3’s were laid on and we loaded as much of our equipment as was possible-plus ourselves-in a number of these aircraft. I knew exactly where we should have become airborne but it was considerably beyond this point before our wheels left the ground! I was most apprehensive!

We landed at an Airstrip near Jorhat. This was occupied by an American Squadron, and like most Americans, they were very friendly. They were full of advice such as ‘get back on the plane this place is unhealthy.’ ‘Go while you can’ etc., In reply to questions about the local situation they told us that Kohima and Imphal had both been over-run by the Japanese! They could not tell us the fate of the defenders. This, of course, never happened. The camp was run on American lines, and was certainly more comfortable than our Camps. They had a mobile canteen which toured the Airfield several times a day, and was ministered by white American girls! and we were included in their itinerary. The Bashas were of the same construction but were painted white inside which greatly improved the interior. Our stay at Jorhat was of short duration however, and in a few weeks we were on the move again, this time to Dalbumgar. Apart from flying the usual photographic sorties there was little to remember of this isolated airstrip. Only one incident of any importance occurred at this place
In August 1943 and that was my 21st Birthday! This itself was memorable if only for the fact that water was very scarce and the only drink I had to celebrate my birthday was a drink of chloride flavoured water — just half a pint- and I was grateful for that. Our stay at this Air Strip also did not last long but on one occasion the local villages asked for our assistance as a wild animal was attacking children and their domestic animals. We attached slips of silver paper to the fore sight and tied a torch to the underside of the riffle barrel, and at we sat in front of the Bashas and hoped to pick out the animal by the reflection of its eyes. I succeeded in getting one perfect sight of it and was just about to pull the trigger when I realised that the animal was between me and the next Basha! A night or so later the animal, which was subsequently identified as a Leopard, was shot by one of our pilots.

Not long after this we received orders to move again. This time, the move was really welcome because we were to return to Ranchi where we would be ‘on rest.’ Those of us who remembered the last time we were stationed at Ranchi, were quite happy with the news. We recalled being woken in the morning with a cup of tea, a bearer to clean our shoes and organise our washing, a visit from the Char Wallah four or five times a day and numerous other chores which we were only too happy to delegate. Sometimes the ‘Char Wallah’ had sweet sickly cakes to go with the tea. Another very welcome change was that the working day was from 0800 hrs to 1400 hrs.

It was with surprise, and regret, that a few weeks later I was posted off the Squadron with one of my particular friends, to Group H.Q. in Calcutta. I think it was 231 Group. This was not a move I relished. I had been to Calcutta and thoroughly disliked the place. Humidity was about 98% and the whole place teemed with people. We were directed to the Viceroy’s Winter Residence, but if it sounds opulent, forget it! Our billets were in wooden Huts and the temperature, both day and night, has to be imagined. The humidity, especially during the Monsoons was unimaginable. .We were both attached to the Meteorological Unit and to start with, this entailed us working in the Group Radio section. This was an enormous room, on the lower ground floor of the Viceroy’s House, and it was completely filled with Radio Receivers and morse keys. The Transmitters were situated well away from the house as was common practice and connected by land line. Our job was to receive radio weather reports from stations for several miles around, even from the centre of India. These reports were then passed to the Meteorological Officer who plotted the information in the reports and then prepared a weather map on which a forecast could be calculated. It was monotonous work although very necessary. During the Monsoons it was quite common to receive a nasty electric shock from lightning strikes transmitted to our ears through the head phones. This was a particular problem with stations connected by land line as some of ours were. This Meteorological station was under the control of civilian meteorologists as Indian civil organisations were gradually taking over from the Colonial Office.

This situation was not to last for very long; and in a few weeks we were transferred to Dum Dum Airport which is situated a few miles outside Calcutta. We were now under the direct control of the R.A.F. again and all the staff were R.A.F. personnel. We were established in the Control Tower and very soon had the section operating efficiently. From the Control Tower there was a panoramic view over the Airfield and during the Monsoons the Electric Storms were very spectacular. On one night I saw five Aircraft struck by lightning. I have not mentioned very much about the Monsoons, but at the appropriate time of the year they played a large part in our lives. They usually started in June and continued until September. The approach of the Monsoons was a very trying time, because the humidity was raised to very high limit. In Calcutta it was often eighty per cent, and at this rate, everything was damp and everybody sweated profusely. At Imphal the Monsoons meant very heavy rain and thunderstorms, and clothing seldom dried, but at least the humidity was much lower.

Initially we were billeted in private houses, which had been commandeered, and we found them very comfortable; but the houses were some considerable distance from the Aerodrome and it was decided that we should move onto the Aerodrome to avoid unnecessary travelling. In theory it had to be agreed this was a reasonable move, but we were not so enthusiastic when we discovered that we were now to be billeted in Tents. These were most unpleasant, as they were extremely hot during the day and stifling at night.

The reason for the move became more apparent as the weeks passed. Mahatma Ghandi was preaching for Independence and his followers were all for taking some action. On one occasion a number of us were ordered to take up a position across the road from Calcutta to the Airport as a mob was approaching.

We were issued with rounds of ammunition and told to fix bayonets. In retrospect it is unrealistic for a single line of Airmen — about thirty strong — to oppose a mob of two or three hundred. But it worked. The mob came to within about forty yards or so then stopped and started shouting insults, which in contrast was almost amusing. Eventually they dispersed. Thereafter, it was quite common for R.A.F. trucks, often with Airmen on board to be the target of rocks, bricks etc., when travelling to or from Calcutta. They all had one common cry —Go Home! Which we all wanted for ourselves anyway.

By this time the war in Europe was over and the Americans had dropped the Atom bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The Japanese capitulated, a fact that we celebrated in Calcutta in the usual way. The demobilisation programme was put into being and we all expected to hear when we were to be sent home. But there was no news on this front, although the troops in Europe were being repatriated. In addition, the Airport was opened to civilian Aircraft and the Airlines were receiving the benefit of RAF facilities and personnel. This led to a great deal of ill feeling. About this time I was struck down by a fever and taken to Hospital in Calcutta. Every day tests were carried out and blood samples taken but the Doctors could not agree on what type of fever it was. Suffice it to say that the fever cured itself and I was declared fit, but before being discharged the Senior Doctor checked my records, found I was shortly due for release and decided I had been out there long enough and needed some leave. Against my wishes I was sent on sick leave to Darjeeling for three weeks and in response to my protests undertook to send a signal to Darjeeling if I became due to catch a boat. I almost believed him! I had been to Darjeeling before when I spent four weeks there, to which I persuaded the Orderly Office to add another week for travelling time.

Darjeeling is a very pleasant place up in the Mountains and the scenery on the journey was spectacular after leaving the plains of India. Several of us were spending sick leave at the time and a very enjoyable time it was. Especially as it involved mixing with civilians, something we had all missed very much.

A few weeks after returning to Dum Dum I was given my travel documents to go to Bombay. I was on my way Home! Six of us were due for repatriation, but things rarely work out as expected in the R.A.F. It was fine to start with. A truck appeared on time to take us to Calcutta and deliver us to the Railway Station and there was the Train already crowded with Army personnel. But there was no carriage reserved for us.

An M.P. tried to tell us we could not travel but he really was wasting his time trying to tell us we could not travel to Bombay. We eventually found a cattle truck with sliding doors but with no cattle, so we established ourselves in it. Food was no problem, we just inserted ourselves in the army food queue.

Only a few days after reaching Bombay we were on board the troopship M.V. Britannic bound for England and it was a much quicker trip home than it had been on the way out. This time we sailed through the Suez Canal. Food was much better, and although we still slept in hammocks there was more space. On the same mess deck was the Ship’s Prison, known as the Brig. There were no prisoners and as the Brig was fitted with bunks we took over the Brig and slept much more comfortably than in a hammock. We arrived at Liverpool early June 1946, and my home in London, on V.E.Day June 8th for one months disembarkation leave.

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