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The next morning we woke up to quite a different kind of scenery — where water was the main feature of the landscape — Here were mile after mile of paddy fields breaking up the land into little squares, each square surrounded by a low wall made of mud, something like the walls made on the beach at Spittal, out of sand. In the squares were growing rice and other crops, and these all grew in water which was held in by the mud banks. Soon we passed greater stretches of water still, until all the land around about was flooded, and also the water lapped the floors of all the houses and mud huts. People hereabouts seemed to do a great deal of fishing for there were many nets hanging up to dry, and also lots of big wicker baskets, something of the style of the lobster pots at home, but very much larger. We saw quite a few Indians sailing about on rafts made of pieces of bamboo lashed together and poled like a punt. There were also some sailing boats which went right through paddy fields which were flooded and which would’nt be much good until the water level had gone down. Our line wound its way through all these floods, and for quite a long way the water reached right up to the stones underneath the lines on either side. It was funny to see the tops of trees sticking up in some places, and not so funny to see the houses of the poor people flooded out, so that they had to live on rafts which had tents made of bamboos built on them. All these thousands of square miles of country are flooded every year in the monsoon season by the great river Brahmaputra which bursts through its banks and carries water everywhere around. It is not entirely due to the rains in Assam and Bengal where the river runs, but also much water comes from the high mountains where the river rises, and the great glaciers melt, as I said, these mountains are the greatest of all, and here lies Mount Everest, which rises into the sky for over five miles — almost six in fact. This is one of the very few mountains which has'nt yet been climbed although some Englishmen managed to get almost to the top when they had to give up, because of the terrible cold and the little air there was to breathe, and the great winds which howl around the summit. One day perhaps the mountain will be climbed, but meanwhile it stands alone — the highest place in "the roof of the world". One day too the Indians will build great dams and power stations around the Brahmaputra and make use of all the water now doing so much harm. This land will be very fertile then, and will be able to have schools and lots of other useful things, and the people will no longer be poor and struggling to live.

At about ten o'clock on the morning of the eleventh of August, we reached Howrah Station in Calcutta and here we all piled out of the train, and with the help of many coolies moved our kit outside, where we waited for lorries to come and take us to another camp. Before telling you about Calcutta which is the second city of the British Empire next to London, I will give you the list of stations we passed and stopped at:
Igatpuri Asvali Nagpur Soudia

Dongargagh Raipur Bilaspur Jbarsguda

Jatanagh.

Before going on to our various stations we had to wait in another camp at Calcutta for a few days, and you left me outside Howrab. Station waiting for a lorry to get me to this camp. At last a lorry came which took away a few of us, and the same lorry went "backwards and forwards until five o'clock in the evening. Daddy had made up his mind to be among the last few people to leave, he was able to look about him and see everything that was going on.

Quite close to the station was a main road along which passed many thousands of people and vehicles — from trams and buses to rickshaws which are pulled along by coolies, and only have two wheels. The trams were quite an amusing sight as they had been in Bombay, for not only were they absolutely full inside, but many more Indians clung to the outside all looking as if they might fall off at any time. By this means of course quite a large number of them could get from place to place without paying anything as the conductor was hard put to it anyway to collect the fares from the passengers inside! Also there were a great number of clumsy carts pulled by oxen yoked to a long pole between them, and other carts pulled by coolies. All in all a very animated sight, with crowds of people chattering together like monkeys and occasionally raising their voices to a scream of anger or annoyance — when things did'nt go quite as they should — Daddy could'nt understand what they were saying then, but it sounded very rude indeed! There was also a great noise going on all the time with everyone in cars and lorries blowing their horns, whistles from the nearby trains and occasional hisses as steam was let out of the engines, excited cries from the coolies, little bells ringing which are attached to the shafts of rickshaws and sound like sheep bells, trams bumping and clattering along and occasionally the deep roar of an aeroplane passing overhead. Close by was a great new suspension bridge spanning the river and we crossed over this when at last the lorry came.

After going to an old camp where all particulars were taken, Daddy went with some others to a camp which had'nt long been built, situated at a suburb of Calcutta called Ballygunge. Here Daddy found himself a charpoy and then went off to have a shower followed by some dinner. By this time it was dark and Daddy had already realised that if "Worli" was the best organised camp he had ever been to then this present one from all the signs, was the worst. In fact, Daddy would’nt put the officers who organised this camp in charge of a public lavatory in the smallest village in England. After writing a letter to Mummy which would go off in an aeroplane in the morning all the way to England, Daddy had a good sleep because he was very tired after his journey and all the waiting about.

Well, once again we were stuck in another camp and waiting as before for someone to call our names out on parade. Daddy found out after the first parade which took place, that he would’nt be wanted till next day or even afterwards, so he put on some clean clothes and took a tram into Calcutta. Although this city is the next city to London, as I told you, it smells worse than anything you can imagine and is very much dirtier than Bombay. In fact so dirty was it in more senses than one, that more than three quarters of it was "out of bounds" to troops. Daddy got off the tram in the remaining quarter at a street called Chowringtree — this being the main street in Calcutta where all the big restaurants, clubs, banks and shops were situated; also here were several cinemas. Just off this street was a large covered market where there were stalls which sold practically everything — except motor cars and ships — and this place is called Hogg's Market. This of course is nothing to do with pigs, although some of the smells reminded Daddy of these animals. After looking round nearly all the stalls Daddy noticed the prices of the things were a good deal higher than in Bombay, but the boxes were cheaper, and after looking at quite a number he bought one, and while he waited an Indian printed on the lid his number, rank, name and also R.A.F. Daddy was then faced with the problem of getting this big box back to the camp, so he called a coolie who carried it outside and then went off to find a rickshaw. In due course back he came with one, and Daddy told the rickshaw puller where to go and then settled down quietly in his seat with the big box on his knees. Nw, it was almost three miles back to the camp, and as it was dark the heat of the day had nearly all gone, and it was very pleasant going along slowly and sometimes fairly quickly when the rickshaw puller had enough breath. It was also very quiet except for the traffic, because the wheels of the rickshaw had rubber on them like Gillian's pram wheels. After floating along for about an hour it was apparent that the puller did'nt know where he was — and still less where Daddy's camp was — Here was a pretty kettle of fish because there were not many people about, and it was dark, and quite a strange place to your Daddy, and moreover he could'nt speak very much Urdu or Hindustani — which are the languages of the Indians — or, at least most of them. However Daddy knew from the general direction in which he had come that he could'nt be a long way from the camp, so off the rickshaw puller went making a circular tour round the neighbourhood. After about another hour we were fortunate to meet an Indian who could speak English, and who knew where the camp was, so it was'nt long before we were back. By this time the poor rickshaw puller was quite tired, and although it was his fault as he should have, known where to go, Daddy was sorry for him, so instead of giving him eight annas for the fare Daddy gave him a rupee — so then we both felt a good deal better — When Daddy had carried the big box back to his hut he unpacked his kitbag and packs, and put all the things and the bags in the box, and they just filled it to the top. Whenever Daddy had to travel about India after that he only had one thing to look after, and that was the box, which had a padlock on it so that no one could open it except Daddy. This box would also come in very useful when Daddy had to come home and he could put plenty of presents and other things in it then for Mummy, David, Gillian and number twenty two Kedale Road. Just now though, the box was very heavy indeed, and Daddy did'nt envy the coolies who would have to carry it on their heads!

After several days at the camp, during which he went again into Calcutta — principally to get some nice food — your Daddy heard his name called out one morning at the Parade, and learned that he had to catch a train at about nine o'clock next morning. He was all ready at eight o'clock to catch a lorry which took him with some others to Sealdah Station at Calcutta, where the train was, and this station belonged to another line called the Bengal and Assam Railway. Off we went round about ten o'clock, and for a long time travelled in much the same sort of flooded country I have already described to you. We were now on the other side of the great river Brahmaputra and occasionally could see it swirling along — a great muddy torrent. When we had been in this train about six hours we got off at a station called ???? and this was right by a jetty alongside the river. Here some coolies carried our kit out to a big river steamboat which was moored alongside, and we walked aboard over the gangplank. By now it was about six o'clock and after casting off the mooring lines from the shore, the steamer which had big paddle wheels to drive it along, slowly got under way out into the muddy river, which was racing down towards us at quite a rate. As we were now feeling hungry, Daddy opened one of the four big wooden boxes we also carried with us, and handed out the "K" rations to the men. These rations are very neatly sealed up in waxed cardboard, and there are forty-eight in each box, and sixteen are marked ‘breakfast’, sixteen ‘dinner’ and the same number ‘supper’. Inside one of the cardboard cartons is a little tin of meat or cheese, some biscuits, chocolate, a packet of four cigarettes and some chewing gum. Sometimes also there are little packets of powder to make soup, lemonade or cocoa, and a few lumps of sugar. After we had eaten enough of these things we got some char in our mugs from the steward in the dining saloon. Daddy always has difficulty with his char because he does'nt like sugar in it, and this surprises the Indians very much.

This steamboat was a proper "puffing billy" and groaned and clanked its way up the Brahmaputra, and all we could see were floods everywhere, and we listened to the river swirling past, and the paddles beating the water, driving us slowly upstream. I expect Mummy has a picture in her book, of the steamboats sailing up the Mississippi river in America, well, our steamboat was just like one of those, and was built a long while ago — even before Pop was a little boy — Daddy met several interesting men on this boat who belonged to the Political Service in India. They go all over India telling the Princes good things to do, and helping them in lots of ways. Of course some of the Princes are very bad with their people and these men then tell the King of England — who is called the King Emperor in India — about it, and away go some of Saint George's soldiers with fireworks and they soon make the Princes into good boys again. You can see that these Political men have to be very wise men indeed, and Daddy learnt a great deal about India from them which he won't tell you until you are a bigger boy.

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