大象传媒

CHAPTER TWO

CENTRAL INDIA
Summer 1941

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

We saw very little of Bombay, the wealthy city with fine colourful exotic buildings. We transferred straight from ship to train in the docks, and left by the back door through the slum area. A large, shanty town of wooden shacks, tin huts and corrugated iron lean-to鈥檚, where the poorest native families lived in filth and squalor among flies and stench. We saw the poverty first.

The train headed North-East into open country, vast expanses of shimmering landscape, mainly flat plains with low hills in the distance, (AB), occasionally a small village, a few palm trees here and there, but not very interesting. The railway line was only single track so we had to stop and several stations to let trains pass from the opposite direction. These trains were full and overflowing, natives hanging on all along the sides, and as many sitting on the carriage roofs. At every station crowds of beggars came, mostly children, calling for 鈥淏aksheesh, Sahib, Baksheesh鈥�.

We sweltered in the heat of a ferocious sun, the sweat rolled off us, our shirts stuck to our backs. There was a breeze when the train was on the move, but it was of hot air, like a blast from a furnace. The carriages were the bare essential, hard bench seats, a narrow rack overhead, no corridor, the toilet 鈥� Indian style, just a hole in the floor. Three hundred slow miles of this!

Three hundred miles is really only a short journey in India, which is a much larger country than most people realize. At its widest, from Assam鈥檚 borders with China and Burma in the East, to the Gujarat Coast on the Arabian Sea in the West, it stretches 1848miles. The distance from Kashmir in the North to Cape Comorin on the southernmost point is over 2,000miles. The distance from Bombay to Calcutta is 1,000miles, four days journey by train at that time.

MHOW BACK TO SCHOOL

Our destination was the Royal Signals Training Centre for British soldiers, on the outskirts of a small town called Mhow, in Central India. Here we were to be trained to become Tradesmen in one of the many Signals trades: linesman, telephone exchange operator, wireless and tele-printer operator, instrument mechanic, electrician, driver, dispatch rider, motor mechanic etc. About 20 of us were detailed to become mechanics, or Fitter (motor vehicle) as it was known. Our job would be to maintain and repair the unit鈥檚 lorries, cars, motorbikes and portable charging engines (Iron Horses).

Our quarters were quite luxurious after the discomforts of the last two months. We had inherited a typical 19th Century British鈥擜rmy鈥攊n鈥擨ndia Barracks. Long, high 鈥� roofed, single story buildings with thick stone walls and verandas on each side to keep out the heat. Inside they were divided into sections, each holding 8 or 10 beds on either side, connected by short gangways which also gave access from the outside. The camp beds had the usual Army three biscuit mattresses; there was a large wooden chest each for our kit, and a mosquito net for nighttime use. Punkas were suspended over the beds from the high ceiling.

Besides inheriting the barracks from the Regular Army, we also inherited many of their servants, such as the punkah-wallah, dhobi-wallah, char-wallah, the nappi, the beesti, and the sweeper. The punkah-wallas sat in the gangways between sections, pulling the ropes to keep the punkas swinging. The dhobi (laundry man) collected our dirty linen at breakfast time and brought it back clean by mid-day.

Our favourite was the char-wallah, who sat on his veranda from early morning until late evening with his large urn of tea, and box of rolls and cakes. If you were too lazy or tired to fetch your own, you shouted for his boy who came running in, collected your mug and money, and brought your refreshments to you whilst you lay on your bed cooling off under the swaying punkahs.

The 鈥渘appi鈥� was the barber who came round at dawn with his shaving equipment and hot water, shaving men while they were still in bed, even while they slept! The 鈥渂eesti鈥� was the water carrier, the sweeper kept the area clean and tidy. With all these attendants waiting on us we felt like 鈥淧ukka Sahibs鈥�!

Before leaving Britain we has started a course of inoculations against cholera, typhoid, tetanus, and other tropical nasties, and these continued here. Altogether in 1941, I had seven inoculations and one vaccination. Each subsequent year there were 2 or 3 booster injections.

The Royal Signals party, or draft, that I had journeyed with to India was identified with the code 鈥淩OAGG鈥�. This was stencilled on our kitbags, so we had called ourselves the 鈥渞ogues鈥�. The previous draft had arrived at Mhow about a month earlier. They had the draft code 鈥淩AJJA鈥�, so naturally they called themselves the 鈥淩ajahs鈥� and looked down their noses at us. Their favourite jibe was 鈥済et your knees brown鈥�!

We did soon get our knees brown. We had arrived at the hottest time of the year, well over 100F in the shade. We found working in the heat exhausting. Prickly heat and sweat rash added to our discomfort. Fortunately it started cooling down a little in September and October was more bearable. October 11th was my 22nd birthday.

At weekends we were able to go out of the barracks and explore the local town, villages and countryside. There was always a line of tongas 鈥� small, horse-drawn carriages 鈥� waiting for customers, just like a taxi rank. Other forms of transport were hackney carriages, gharries (cars) and rickshaws, some of which were bicycle-drawn. We were able to hire bicycles by the hour or day. Everywhere you had to dodge the slow moving bullock carts, and of course, cows, which were sacred and allowed to wander around freely, even in towns.

We were surprised to find how primitive life was in the country. Many of the 鈥渉ouses鈥� were just mud-huts, people and animals living together. All heavy loads were carried on the head rather than the shoulder. Six men would carry a grand piano on their heads! Working bullocks pulled the ploughs, which were each just a long bent beam of wood, with a sharpened metal bar projecting from underneath, that only scratched the surface of the soil. When the day鈥檚 work was done, the ploughman just picked up his plough, put it over his shoulder, and walked off leading his bullocks. This simplicity of their ancient methods of irrigation had to be seen to be believed.

After 3 months of intensive training, we were considered to be competent tradesmen and were posted to various Units all over India. One of my friends went to Peshawar on the border with Afghanistan and stayed there for the next 4 years.

JHANSI
October 1941
On October 20th a large party of us, a mixture of all trades, left Mhow to travel via Bhopal 300 miles North West right into the heart of India, to Jhansi. Here a new division was being formed, the 34th Indian Division, designated for Singapore. A Division is comprised of approximately 12,000 to 14,000 men. We were to be the nucleus of the Divisional Signals, responsible to establish, operate and maintain the internal and external communications for the whole Division, down to, and including, Regiment and Battalion. The Royal Signals鈥� main responsibility was always Communications. Although armed, they were not a fighting unit, unless forces of circumstances required them to be. The Technical Maintenance staff, known as 鈥淢 Section鈥� comprised of six fitters, of which I was one, plus instrument mechanics and electricians. My Fitter workmates were Bill Wesley, Vic Diamond, Ginger Ritchie, Tommy Walker, and Corporal Les Hudson. We had a section officer, Sergeant and office staff, a large workshop complete with brand new tools and equipment, but no vehicles yet.

Jhansi was a larger town than Mhow, with a larger and better bazaar. Also with more flies, more smells, more cows, and more discordant Indian music! The open-fronted shops were very tempting, displaying Indian silks, jewellery, perfumes, brassware, beautifully carved rosewood animals, ivory elephants, sandalwood boxes and many other souvenirs. But half the pleasure of buying something was the bargaining and haggling over the price, you never paid the original asking price.

Sometimes after an evening in town we walked back to the barracks through the suburban area, where the more prosperous of the local Indian and English community lived. Their attractive houses and large bungalows, with wide verandas swathed in bougainvillea, had beautiful gardens full of tropical flowers, shrub and trees. The warm evening air was heavy with the fragrance of frangipani, jacaranda, and tamarind flowers, whilst overhead flying foxes, with three-foot wingspan, were silhouetted against the fading sky. This was the real India.

Set amongst all this tropical Eastern scenery was the unexpected sight of a Church of England church. So dignified and typically English, it could have been plucked out of an English town and planted there complete, into this alien environment. Stopping for a moment to gaze, and think of home, the spell would be broken by the haunting voice of a muezzin calling from the minaret of a nearby mosque, calling the faithful Mohammedans to prayer.

TO WORK AT LAST
November 1941

News came one morning that our Signals vehicles had arrived at Jhansi railway station. We mustered all Drivers and proudly drove in convoy back to barracks. There were, I think, twenty lorries and twenty-five motorbikes, all brand spanking new. The lorries, 15cwts and 3-tonners, were mostly American 6-cylinder Chevrolets, with some Ford V8s. The motorbikes, Nortons and BSAs. The majority of Drivers and Dispatch Riders were Indians, with a few British.

At last we could get down to the job for which we had been trained. Our first task was to check every vehicle for any damage suffered during transit, then to make sure all the drivers and dispatch riders carried out their daily cleaning and maintenance routine. We were still in the days of hand grease-guns. A driver鈥檚 daily task was to go round every grease nipple on his lorry - about twenty 鈥� and make sure grease was getting through to the bearings.

From now on our Fitter Section鈥檚 main responsibility was to keep this fleet of vehicles in good repair and in good running order. When the Division was on the move, or in action, we must keep everything mobile, 鈥渒eep the wheels turning. At times this would mean doing only first-line repairs. If the job was too big to do on the move or in a field workshop, it would be sent back down the line to REME, (Royal Electrical & Mechanical Engineers) who had larger and much better equipped workshops.

We soon found that one of the advantages of being a Fitter was that it got us out of most of the daily morning parades and inspections. We had to work in dungarees or overalls, so we were much too scruffy to be present at such smart occasions. We took full advantage of that!

We now got out of the barracks frequently on practice convoy runs, 15cwt trucks fitted out as Wireless Offices interspersed along the convoy, the Operators keeping in touch with each other and with Base. Some of the country roads were very poor, being just hard tracks with several inches of dry soil on top, consequently the convoy proceeded in a huge cloud of dust. The Fitters travelled in their own 3-ton lorry in the rear of the convoy, 鈥渢o pick up the pieces鈥�, so we were able to hang well back and avoid the worst of the dust cloud.

One such convoy was trailed by our breakdown lorry, which had a large, heavy crane fitted on the back. The Indian driver, hurrying to catch up, took a corner too fast, and the weight of the crane tipped the lorry over onto its side. Three passengers in the back, two British, one Indian, were thrown out and knocked unconscious, but otherwise unhurt. The Driver laid them out in a row on a bank on the side of the road and laid a bottle of beer beside each one. Then, squatting up on his haunches, a bottle-opener at the ready, he waited for them to come round, one by one, and administered first aid.

THE TAJ MAHAL
December 1941

The longest convoy run we made was 150 miles North to Agra, where we stayed in a camp overnight and returned next day. On the way we had to cross two rivers by means of swaying pontoon bridges, bridges that float on the water, the one over the River Jumna being several hundred yards long.

Arriving at the camp mid-afternoon, we finished work and cleaned ourselves up as quickly as we could, and then set off to see the sights. Agra, once the capital of the Mogul Emperors, has many fine and remarkable old buildings, but the number one attraction was, of course, the world famous Taj Mahal, sometimes called the 鈥淒ream in Marble鈥�. Built by Shah Jehan as a mausoleum for his favourite wifeMumtaz Mahal, it was completed in 1648, having taken twenty thousand workmen and craftsmen twenty years to complete. On his death Jehan was buried beside his Mumtaz.

First, from the raised platform of a building opposite, you look along the elegant formal gardens, with water pools, that make a perfect setting for this most beautiful of shrines. Dark green cypress trees heighten the brilliance of the white marble, which is reflected in the water.

For several minutes we could only stand and gaze, spellbound, in silence. The gentle beauty, harmony and perfect symmetry of the scene is almost overwhelming.

Strolling through the long gardens and climbing the steps to the raised terrace, you then realise the great size of the central building as it towers above you, as high as a cathedral. Its surface is delicately carved with a tracery of patterns and Islamic inscriptions cut into the warm white marble.

Going inside, you enter a large octagonal chamber of great beauty, containing two white marble ceremonial coffins and magnificent marble trellis screens. Colour is provided by ornamental flower patterns made up of thousands of semi-precious stones. The actual tombs rest in another chamber directly below.

Afterwards, returning through the gardens with many a backward glance, my final impression was one of magical beauty and timeless tranquility.

At different times of the day the Taj Mahal takes on varying colours. At dawn it changes from a milky-white to silver, then to rose-pink. At mid-day it is brilliant, dazzling white, at sunset a romantic gold. We went back to see it late at night, in a rather weak moonlight, pale and ghostly against the black sky鈥︹��.unforgettable!

The visit to Agra was soon followed by Christmas celebrations, our first out East, another new experience. We celebrated in traditional style, even with a Christmas present or two from home, but under a blazing sun and temperatures in the eighties. Our Sepoys (Indian soldiers) insisted in presenting us with buttonholes and garlands of flowers, which they explained was an old Indian Army tradition.

On Boxing Day I was roped in to play a football match, British versus Sepoys, the latter as always played bare-footed. When I explained that I played rugger, not soccer, they put me as goalkeeper. We lost, of course, I think the score was 8-2. I suppose that鈥檚 why I was never invited to play football again!

Festivities were cut short the next day. Orders were issued to prepare to move out at short notice. The 34th Indian Division had been given its first assignment, but it was not the one we expected.

Although we were far away, and enjoying a 鈥淐ooks Tour鈥� of India, we had kept in touch with the progress of the War in Europe. Recently, however, we had become aware that another War had been simmering for some time and was now boiling over almost on our doorstep.

A short diary of events will explain鈥︹�︹��

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