大象传媒

This continuation story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a volunteer from Northumberland on behalf of Ronnie Almond. Mr. Almond fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions, and the story has been added to the site with his permission.

In the first part of my story, I related events around my early Army career and ended with my journey to India for an attachment to the Royal Indian Army Service Corps (R.I.A.S.C.). My story continues with a few recollections of life during the Burma campaign and of events in the UK when, eventually, I returned home. I must make clear that I am not in any way trying to relate the course of the Burma campaign, only of certain circumstances that may be of interest, initially, as a member of the R.I.A.S.C. Regiment commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Tweedy (or Tweddie) part of the 26th Indian Division operating with British forces fighting the Japanese. I did not maintain a diary, so, after sixty years, I鈥檓 somewhat vague on my own movements, dates and even names. Circumstances did not enable us individually to know the overall combat scene. Our limited knowledge was restricted to our immediate location.

Len Ashford and I were in the same regiment but not necessarily together. We could be at Regimental HQ, operating with a transport company, running supply depots, large or of more modest size, or looking after a fuel dump and the many types of oil which were stored in trenches spread over a considerable area. In other words, we were involved with any task concerned with supplies.

After a relatively short time, my unit was compelled to retreat from Maungdaw, which retirement was a rapid but controlled move, to a large extent, whereas Len Ashford, who was at Buthidaung only a few miles away, had to move at some speed with the troops who had been in contact with the advancing Japanese.

I do remember that throughout the monsoon of 1943 I ran a supply unit located near the village of Bawli Bazor, which was situated between Maungdaw and Tumbru Ghat. The rough road that had been constructed was largely washed away by the monsoon, communication was by water. My principal responsibility was supplying a forward brigade, and mules were the only means of delivering the brigade鈥檚 needs. The only other unit in the vicinity was a mule company. My Indian troops loaded the mules, which then set off to the brigade on torturous trails over the Goppe Pass.

The regiment was withdrawn to Chittagong early in 1944, to recuperate before moving forward when 14th Army started its thrust to drive the Japanese out of Burma. I found myself once more at Bawli Bazor plus a period in the location known as the 鈥淎dmin Box鈥�, the earlier scene of a ferocious engagement with the enemy by troops of 7th Indian Division. The situation was quieter and I was present with my own R.I.A.S.C. HQ. It is opportune to mention the then Adjutant, Norman McDonald, whom I had first met in Calcutta. He was an A-1 fellow and friend.

Later in the year, I was posted out of the regiment to 23 Reinforcement Camp at Comilla, which was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel H. W. Spurrell, MC, Somerset Light Infantry, a man of the highest integrity and totally concerned for the well-being of all those under his command. The function of this operation was as a transit base for individual troops, of all ranks, going to and coming from forward units. It was at this camp I first met Captain Geoffrey Isaac, Royal Army Medical Corps (R.A.M.C.). Sixty plus years on, we remain close friends. He is now in his eighty-ninth year.

Months passed by and we both found ourselves at a camp near Deolali preparing for the invasion of Malaya on D + 3. It is my understanding that had this action taken place the invading troops would have been massacred. With very many others we were spared this fate by the dropping of the atomic bomb and subsequent surrender of the Japanese. Horrifying as the bomb was, those who now sit back in peacetime never having experienced battle and ready to condemn the dropping of the bomb, should realise in their righteous attitude that had it not been countless more Allied troops, which words include British, would have been killed, injured, or maimed for life, with their loved ones suffering misery and despair.

I was posted to HQ REFOR Group, South East Asia Command, then at Bangalore under Brigadier Gradige, another fine and understanding senior officer. Geoffrey Isaac went to Singapore, and Len Ashford who had remained with 26th Division had become Regimental Adjutant.

To round off affairs in this part of the world I will cover another, to me significant happening. My Brother, Kenneth, had, too, arrived in India at some time in 1944. He was stationed with an anti-aircraft unit near Madras. Meanwhile, my other Brother, Stanley, had been posted to a Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers (R.E.M.E.) unit in Bangalore. During a period in 1944, I had been granted leave and contrived to make the journey from the Arakan to Bangalore, picking up Kenneth on the way. This is a distance of near enough one thousand miles each way involving road, railway, river boats to rail heads, and further rail journeys. On reflection now, I cannot imagine how I arranged it but all worked well and the three of us met.

Stanley and Kenneth returned to the UK in 1945 and, in response to my parents appeal for me to return, I, too, succumbed. Travelling in the same compartment of the train on which my Brigadier and staff were on their way to Madras en route for Singapore, I said farewell at Arkonam, reporting to the transit camp, to await my repatriation. This took place, in January 1946, by Dakota (DC3) to Karachi and by York, a converted Lancaster bomber, via stops in Iraq, Palestine and Libya, to a military aerodrome near Southampton. I had two bottles of spirits in my baggage and H. M. Customs charged me duty on one of them, after little short of four years abroad with H. M. Forces!

An exceedingly sad event I must include is that of one of my friends of many years who joined the Territorial Army with me in 1939. Someone liked by all, Keith Edrupt had been commissioned into the Essex Regiment. He had been taken prisoner in North Africa but escaped. As a Captain, Keith was then attached to the 10th Battalion of the Royal Berkshire Regiment during operations around Anzio, Italy where, on 4 February 1944, he died of wounds received. He was placed to rest in Rome War Cemetery. Keith was a great friend and a great loss.

Turning to events on my arrival home in Hendon, the welcome from my parents was, naturally, very moving. It should be recognised that I was eighteen years old when the Army took me away from my home surroundings, and I was seven years older. My Father was conscious of this but my Mother found it difficult to realise and there were tensions. I needed time to adjust to a new way of life. I had received a telegram from Ruth Clarence in Durban telling me that she was coming to the UK for medical treatment. My reactions are difficult to describe, perhaps joy and apprehension, but a major complication was developing. At my Tennis Club before the war was a charming young girl, Diane, who had grown into someone of great appeal. We met and cupid took charge. I had not immediately responded to dear Ruth and, to my dismay, communication had broken down. Diane was on my mind the whole time but I still felt unhappy at my treatment of Ruth. However, my relationship with Diane was to suffer a setback, as her Step-Father was committed to work in India to which she would go, together with her Mother, for some two years.

I had other girl friends, not one comparing with Ruth or Diane. In late 1947 I went with my Brother Stanley and his wife, Dorothy to Jersey for a holiday, meeting some very attractive girls. On Thursday, 4 September, having propped up the hotel bar with my Brother and his wife, just after 10:00 p.m., having Dutch courage I ventured onto the dance floor, this being the first time I had done so after ten days of opportunities. In those days, it was often the practice at dances to get people to mingle by having what was called a 鈥淧aul Jones鈥�. This required the ladies to form an inner circle and the opposite sex the outer. I joined the dance. The band stopped, circles were formed and the band re-started, the intention being that on stopping again those facing one another would have the next dance. The band started and stopped. Something happened as soon as I met the eyes of the girl facing me. We just had a few steps when I asked her to come and meet my Brother and his wife. I introduced them by name and could not give her name for I did not know it. She said her name was Barbara. Apart from being carried away by her no thought of a past foretelling ever entered my head. This was suddenly to have a violent impact on me some months later. We spent the next day together and, on the Saturday, boarded the ferry for England. For some inexplicable reason, we were put on different trains for London. I was distraught. Other than my feelings for her, all I knew about her was her Christian name. The train I was on pulled into Victoria Station and there, waiting patiently on the platform, was Barbara.

We married on 26 August 1950, and Barbara died on 27 November 2004. I can do no better than round off this recount of part of my journey through life with the obituary, which says it all, inserted in the 鈥淒aily Telegraph鈥� on 1 December 2004:

鈥淎lmond 鈥� Barbara (nee Russell). Adored wife of Ronnie. Her love, devotion, loyalty and support throughout our fifty-four years together could not be surpassed. Having endured suffering with fortitude and undiminished cheerfulness and ready smile, the joy of my life passed peacefully on Saturday, 27 November whilst in the compassionate care of the Marie Curie Hospice, Hampstead.鈥�

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