大象传媒

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We had a great collection of men in our Signals Section at Barrackpore and they helped to make life tolerable. Of course there are always a few you are drawn to as friends more than others and shift work means that you work with and see more of some men than others. I should single out Dan Davis, Bob Stannard, Brian Wilson, Bob Robinson, Jack Phillson and Bill Kerr as the ones I spent most time with, but I was also friendly with some non- Signals personnel and even with two Army men, Fred Stericker and Major Cohen, both of whom were in my choir at the Methodist Church, along with a Lt. Colonel and Wing Commander. As you can see, rank differences didn't always take on the same importance as at home - though some officers did keep to their own kind.

As you will see, the average work consisted of 4 or 5 days virtually all work and sleep - 1 day in Calcutta, one evening at the Lowe's record recital, one at Church, one at choir practice, as many visits as possible to the camp cinema, and perhaps a visit to the Manse or to the Lowe's for dinner. Letter writing filled almost all the rest of the time. It wasn't surprising that in that heat we approached a state of exhaustion, particularly in the run up to the monsoons.

When coming off night duty- and for that matter at other times-it was my practice to avoid all parades and inspections by climbing into bed and putting a card on my mosquito net "Night Duty". All in all, R.A.F. and Army H.Q. at Barrackpore developed a "non bull-shit" way of getting a lot done in spite of limited numbers that was a credit to all, and each ( with the inevitable few exceptions) developed skills in their own field that were unrivalled. Of course, there always comes along someone with a big ego who think they know better. We had a new C/O Station appointed. Straight out from England, he took one look at Barrackpore, didn't like it and decided to change it all. If we looked tired and overworked it was because we needed discipline and regular exercise. Every morning, after breakfast, P.T. was to be compulsory. After a brief discussion among Signals personnel, we

decided to ignore the whole thing. After all one third of us were on duty, one third had just come off night duty and the others had been on duty 'til the previous midnight. So, on the first day any one third cleared off camp to Calcutta and elsewhere, one third were on duty, and the rest stayed on their charpoy (bed) and put up signs "Night Duty". The C\O didn't seem too pleased - when he gave an order it must be carried out. The stupidity of expecting men to do drill and P.T. on top of a 50hr+ week, in that climate, didn't seem to occur to him - so we still ignored instructions the next day. The C\O arrived outside "G" block, had us "fall in" outside and gave us a verbal roasting sounding out that our action was "Mutiny" and we knew what the punishment for that was. How he expected the Signal Section to operate if we were all shot, he didn't explain. He conceded that the shifts going on and coming off duty at breakfast could not really be expected to do P.T. (Parry and the other officers had had a few words with him) but the other shift must.

Yours truly was in charge of the shift that was due for P.T the following morning. Bad Luck! We stayed in bed and found ourselves "on a charge". The C\O said for the first offence he was going to be lenient, but until further notice we would be confined to barracks when not on duty.

The rest of the personnel immediately sprang into action and pulled whatever strings they could.

The Reverend Firth was told that his Christmas service and choir practices would have to be abandoned or modified as his organist and choir master wasn't allowed out of barracks. The Army and Air force Officers who came to church - or were in the choir - were approached and asked to intercede. Other officers with no interest in the church, were upset by the way things were going and protested. What had been a happy, well run station was in danger of becoming a divided mess with resentment everywhere.

The C/O was outranked and outgunned.
In an embarrassing climb down he issued a statement through P/O Parry that in view of our splendid work in adverse conditions he was going to limit our punishment to one week - and that for shift workers P.T. would be abolished, that we could go to the cinema anytime duties permitted and that events at church or chapel would not be affected - and that he realised the relaxing and renewing effect of a change, so that one visit to Calcutta would be allowed during the week.

This ended the Barrackpore Mutiny.

Before the week ended the C/O was posted away and another man with more Indian experience replaced him. No more P.T. for anyone.

Because of the civilian friends I made at Barrackpore, it may seem that life was fairly comfortable. It could certainly have been worse - and undoubtedly was at many other more remote RAF stations. Still, apart from the climate, there were many drawbacks that home based admin and civilians wouldn't understand. One of the things was loneliness - complete separation from loved ones - as no home leave and even a lack of knowledge of where or what people were doing. Mail was erratic and uncertain. I would estimate that about a third was lost either to enemy action or RAF or P/O inefficiency. When mail did arrive it was a very major event in our lives even though the news could be months out of date. We were not even living in a particularly friendly country. The "Quit India" movement was in full swing and most people wanted us "out". Not for us the friendly reception our forces had in Europe, the Middle East, Australia and the American continent.
Another problem - money. RAF wasn't marvellous and we always seemed to be getting short. An English bank account was inaccessible in India. No international credit cards in those days. On a few occasions people back home cabled money out to me (拢10), but it was a complicated process and took weeks and entailed a visit to the appropriate Indian bank in Calcutta. Of course, all my friends benefited as we tended to share things - after all there was no pleasure in going to Calcutta on your own whilst your friends stayed in camp, broke. To get your hands on the money it was necessary to find the right bank - in Calcutta it would be in the Clive Street area where most of the official buildings, central post office and banks were. Together with the Maidan and its splendid buildings, this was the most impressive part of the city. Banks in India were very different to those at home. On producing the telegram about the money a bearer would escort you to a desk inside the bank where you would be asked to sit down and offered a drink, then the formalities would be dealt with unhurriedly and the money handed over. I went to three banks and they all had the same methods - the Imperial Bank of India and the Chartered Bank of India Australia and China in Calcutta, and the Comilla banking corporation in Comilla.

Twice I received a parcel from the Rochdale Observer Cigarette Fund. The first time 200 Players, the next time 200 Craven "A". Even Craven "A" tasted wonderful after the Victory "V" we had to buy out there. When I first arrived in Calcutta everything was still plentiful and cheap and to my joy and astonishment I could buy an air tight tin of Markevitch Black and White (50 Cigarettes) from a side walk stall in Calcutta for less than it cost to buy 20 Players at home. Stocks soon went, however, and we were down to Victory "V". I understand that two other Observer parcels were sent but didn't arrive.
Christmas tends to be an emotional time for people in outposts of Empire, but I must say that my friends at Barrackpore rallied round in fine style. Extracts from a letter I sent 15th December 1942 to Betty - "I am extremely fortunate in having invitations out for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. Unfortunately my duties will prevent me from availing myself of Doctor and Mrs Lowe's very kind invitation to spend Christmas Eve in the bosom of their family, but I am off duty from 6pm to midnight on Christmas Day and shall be able to spend that time at the Firths, with our special musical and carol service in the offing. The Firths have been spoiling me dreadfully lately. To get to church in time last Sunday I had to skip dinner, with the result that Mrs Firth insisted on working up quite a substantial meal after service. Not only that, but as I was due on duty at midnight, she also insisted on lending me a thermos flask filled with hot tea and supplied me with some biscuits. Of course, all this quite overwhelmed Messrs Cordell and Davis who suggested to Mrs Firth that she should supply me with a pillow and blanket as well so that I could make myself really comfortable on duty. "

The following year (1943) was the occasion of a very special service at church and it took a lot of my time getting the music organised and practiced. The leaflet was printed in three languages, but Mr Brown said that the hymns would actually be sung simultaneously in five different languages. Quite an experience.

In some respects I felt sorry for the Browns and the Firths and any other missionaries. In our moments of quiet talk and discussion, Mr Brown admitted that "converts" were very few and far between and then almost entirely from the "sweeper" caste. Being at the bottom of the Hindu league I suppose some felt that Christianity made them have the illusion of being as good as anyone. If they had been aware of the inequalities common in so called Christian countries, perhaps the small number of converts may have shrunk even more. Even "converts" were apt to backslide, and still kept Hindu beliefs to the new Christian ones.

It wasn鈥檛 often that I had the chance to talk to Indians, but I do remember that twice on railway journeys from Seldar to Barrackpore I did get to talk to Indians who had a fair grasp of English. The first discussion turned to religion and in particular to missionaries. I said that they didn't seem to be making much progress. He replied that so far as Indians were concerned it was ill mannered to claim religious superiority and to try to change other people's beliefs to your own. Thus was the whole business of missionaries condemned as bad mannered and unethical. The other occasion was after an air-raid in Calcutta and the man had his bags with him and was obviously leaving for a safer area. "Why don't you get out of India?" he said in exasperation. "I'd be glad to go home tomorrow" said I. Of course we had little hope of communication with the Indians, so many languages and dialects were involved and even the universal short-hand "Urdu" was used only at its most basic. Simple things like Ao (come) Jao (go) pani (water), char (tea) idhar (here) achacha (O.K.) and kitna (How Much?) were my limit and I could just about count up to five. The Anglo-Indians (half castes) were our nearest point of communication and we even had some on the staff at Barrackpore, but in their desire to be British, they were really more British than the British and couldn't help us to bridge the gulf between India and us.

Nowadays, when to pick up a telephone puts you in touch with friends and relatives in the most remote parts of the world and when TV brings instantaneous news and pictures from virtually anywhere, its difficult to realise how bad and slow and tenuous communications were in war time, particularly for the ordinary person. Heaven knows! Communication of important forces messages was difficult enough, as I know well enough - but even if we had had the modern facilities we wouldn't have been allowed to use them because of security. No, for news it had to be English language newspapers like the ' New Statesman', or blatant propaganda news from the 'Forces Network'. Private news had to depend on letters - slow and uncertain.

Barrackpore itself hadn't much in the way of sightseeing, being a smallish community and the native village was much like any other in Bengal. I was fascinated by the mud brick making along side the river and enjoyed watching them making and firing the bricks which were mostly used for local structures.

Sightseeing in Calcutta was endless, and even in two years there was much that I should have seen but didn't. Entertainment and food were our main interest I'm afraid. There were, of course, a fair number of cinemas showing films in English, such as The Tiger, Metro and Lighthouse. Even in the glossiest cinema, the bedbug was laying await handily in the chair arm and would nibble away your elbow. Touring companies and local talent gave concerts for the forces, but once again we were at the end of the line. On only two occasions did we get visits from well-known stars back home. The first was Vera Lynn whose husband was in India and the second was Noel Coward. I will never forget the concert he gave at Barrackpore. Wonderful! He sang his own songs accompanying himself at the piano. The words were often not those normally sung to his tunes, but especial for the occasion and somewhat risqu茅. At half time he went off to change his shirt which was absolutely wet through in the heat - and then came back refreshed. A great entertainer and a great man.
Of the more orthodox sights in Calcutta, there was the Maidan and its great buildings - a quiet oasis in a busy, noisy city and here too were the Botanical Gardens with a wonderful Banyan tree. In the 1940s it was about hundred and forty years old. The circumference of its trunk was 51 feet, that of its crown 1140 feet. It had over 600 aerial roots planted in the ground. These roots come down from the branches and take root themselves. I doubt whether it still survives intact. Of various temples I visited the Jain Temple was one of the most interesting. Another that appealed in a rather gruesome way was the Temple of Kali at Kalighat. Kali, consort of Siba the destroyer is the patron Goddess of Calcutta Hindus. The temple was built in 1809 and in the sanctuary reigns the Goddess Kali, a black figure with four arms, red eyes and a protruding scarlet tongue, garlanded with a chain of human heads and flowers, while prostrate at her feet is her consort Siba. However, I think what fascinated me most at the time was the burning Ghat. The bodies were placed on piles of wood in trenches and burned. An almost completely consumed body would still have two feet sticking out which hadn't yet been consumed.
Calcutta could hardly be considered a musical city by Western standards. It did, however, have a Symphony Orchestra. Its main claim to fame in 1943 was that there were 15 different nationalities amongst its 80 personnel.

Visits to Calcutta were not all pleasure. Calcutta more than any other city I know has many sides. Poverty and suffering were ever present. The worst happened in 1943 when the great Bengal famine struck. Over a million people died of starvation in Calcutta alone. Visiting Calcutta it was almost impossible to tell the living from the dead in places like Seldar Station. People would be prone on the ground, and leaning against walls, nothing but skin and bone. Carts went around daily collecting bodies for disposal. Some who were still alive got to hospital, but even amongst this favoured few the fatality rate was very high. An acute rice shortage was magnified by merchants holding back supplies for the price to rise. Capitalism rampant. Help was difficult to give, as people would often not eat available food for religious reasons even if it were given and a general air of fatalism was common. This is all history now, so I won鈥檛 dwell on it. Famine on such a scale is not common. When something comparable happens today, money, relief foods and drugs are poured in - not always very efficiently or effectively. I am afraid that not much help came to Calcutta and the rest of Bengal. The world was fighting a war and killing was more important than saving life.

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