大象传媒

One unwelcome break in the daily routine was as member of a Summary General Court Martial. This was on an unfortunate young sapper of 345 Company who was on sentry duty on the ETC Workshops at night with loaded rifle and bayonet fixed.. He encountered an intruder, another young sapper like himself but who was returning to the lines via the workshops after lights out.The sentry as was his duty challenged him in the shadows and, getting no response, shot him dead.

It has to be remembered that in those days even in Central India, a long way from the turbulent North West frontier, rifles not in immediate use were locked up in a Regimental 鈥淩ifle Kot鈥�, in racks with a long padlocked chain through their trigger guards. This was against attempts by thieves to carry them off and export them profitably to the Frontier. The Japanese war was a long way away in the opposite direction.These were the characters - and a few others - against whom the young sentries were armed with loaded rifles.

The members of the Summary General Court Martial, consisting of a Lieutenant Colonel, two Captains (of which I was one) and a Deputy Judge Advocate General (a military lawyer whose job was to see that we all kept to the legal straight and narrow) wrestled mightily with our consciences and the letter of the law on behalf of the terrified young sentry, who faced, if not death, a very long sentence.

We reasoned that if we found him guilty no sentry in the Indian Army could be relied on to carry out his duty. We managed to find him not guilty. All of us knew of course that both the sentry and his victim, whatever the latter鈥檚 reason for being out of bounds in the darkness, were in reality young half trained Indian soldiers in a country where life is often cheap..and where 鈥淗alt who goes there鈥� is not always spoken clearly, nor understood.

Eventually GHQ India abolished the traditional afternoon 鈥渟iesta鈥� as inappropriate to an army with its back to the wall. It became even more difficult to fit the munshi鈥檚 lessons in, but it still had to be done.

In Central India and Ceylon the war did not interfere with the many traditional religious festivals celebrated by the Indian troops such as the Hindu Dussehra (early October) in honour of the goddess Durga, wife of Siva and the Muslim Id el Fitr, celebrating the end of the month of fasting known as Ramzan.

We celebrated both for the first time while at Jhansi. Other festivals were the Hindu Holi at the Spring equinox and Divali ( the festival of lamps). These we celebrated first in Ceylon. On each occasion the VCO鈥檚 and Indian troops of all ranks turned out in their civilian finery and entertained their British and Indian officers at a special 鈥渉igh table鈥� in barrack room cleared and decorated for the occasion.It was very much like Christmas Day with curried goat instead of turkey as the main dish supplemented by chupatties, poppadoms, dhal (lentils) yoghurt and other side dishes and sweetmeats.

These events were known as 鈥渢amashas鈥�.The feasts were produced out of normal rations supplemented by specialities purchased out of regimental funds. During the feast we would all be entertained by troops dressed up as various religious characters and also as nautch women (nautch = dance) and in other roles appropriate to the particular performance.

A noticeably homosexual thread ran through many of the dance routines. We innocent expatriates were only just beginning to recognise it, having had an eye opener by a recent summary trial of one our own most senior and respected NCO鈥檚 for 鈥渋nterfering鈥� with some of the new drafts of 鈥渂achhas鈥� or boy soldiers, sent to us from our Lahore Depot.

One of these youngsters, a highly intelligent Kashmiri from Srinagar, one day asked for an interview with me and made allegations against then senior NCO concerned, a formidable character in every way. I reported the interview to Major Eden. Witnesses were identified and assembled and a protracted summary orderly room trial commenced.

Rather than divert officer manpower at this busy time by proceeding to a formal Court Martial Major Eden offered the accused a voluntary reduction in rank to Naik (corporal), but still to continue in our unit. In tears, he agreed. But such was the need for his military experience that a year or so later we re-promoted him to Viceroy鈥檚 Commissioned Officer!

It was a necessarily pragmatic world! The powers of trial and punishment of the Officer Commanding an Indian unit at the level of an Engineer Company were considerably greater than those of his counterpart in a British unit.

Immediately afterwards the complainant was sent on home leave.
On return he created an unintended dilemma by presenting me with a solid silver cigarette case, a gift from his father. Although highly irregular, Major Eden agreed it would be best to accept it!.

That this young soldier had the courage to report such a delicate matter with the expectation of justice illustrated the traditional respect in which the Indian troops held their British officers. We were regarded as incorruptible and had to be constantly seen to be so.

Occasionally there was some purely British social life. A party of us including expatriate wives and one or two British hospital nursing sisters motored to Orchha Palace, a complex of impressive ruins a few miles away from Jhansi, and picnicked in the shade of one of its ancient Hindu temples. On another occasion we visited Jhansi Fort, an Indian version,perched on its rock, of Edinburgh Castle. It is famous mainly for its romantic association during the 1857 Indian Mutiny with the Rani of Jhansi and her bitter struggle against the British.

It appears that the British Viceroy mishandled the question of her succession to the throne of Jhansi State and disinherited her. Therefore during the Mutiny she took the field against us along with the violently anti-British Rajah Tantia Topi and proved herself to be a formidable general and swordswoman.

In a battle near Gwalior with British forces under General Sir Hugh Rose, wearing mans clothing, she was killed sword in hand.The British found that her campaign tent included a swing and all the other typical accessories of a still very feminine high born Hindu lady s boudoir.

Soon after arrival in Jhansi I received with a brother officer an invitation to a 鈥渂ottle party鈥� at the Nurses Home of the local British Military Hospital. Surprisingly, neither of us had attended a 鈥渂ottle party鈥� before and we were was advised to take along a crate of beer.In the hot dry evening air we bicycled to the party escorting a 鈥渢onga鈥� - a two wheeled pony trap containing the beer.

We had also been advised by an old hand in these matters to fill our pockets with peanuts for frequent and surreptitious consumption during the evening. This was in order to line our stomachs with peanut oil and minimise or retard the absorption of alcohol into the bloodstream.

Remarkably this formula seemed to be very effective. We did not feel drunk at any point throughout the evening, even when taking our departure in the early hours.The mounting of bicycles proved however to be impossible and they had to be pushed on foot back to our quarters.

345 Company Lines comprised in addition to the Company Orderly Room and other offices, troop barrack rooms, warehouses and workshops. We continued to amass and check over the bewildering range of equipment listed in the War Establishment Table for a Workshop and Park Company of the Indian Engineers.

For administrative guidance we relied mainly on two substantial tomes, Indian Army Regulations and Indian Army Pay and Allowances Handbook. There was hardly any administrative problem which could not be solved by recourse to one or other of these two sources.

For example, by multiplying the per capita Dhobi and Nai allowance by the total number of troops we could claim this from FCMA Poona, who paid it into our Company Imprest Account. This total was then transferred into our Regimental Account to employ and pay civilian washermen and barbers.Their respective jobs were to wash and iron (using charcoal fired flat irons) the uniforms of the entire unit and shave every man in the company once a day.

Later in the war we were given the option of purchasing safety razors for every man but by that time we had had our 鈥渘ais鈥� for too long! These and other 鈥渇ollowers鈥� were issued with uniforms without badges and went everywhere with the unit including into active service areas both in India and overseas.

n 607 E and M Coy which I later commanded the most bemedalled individual was an aged sweeper who had served at Gallipoli in the First World War. When saluting he would stand to attention proudly with his sweepers broom tucked horizontally beneath his left arm. He was regarded with affection by all ranks as a 鈥渃haracter鈥�.

Soon after my arrival at 345 Coy we received a message from the Station Master of Jhansi railway station announcing the presence in a siding of a large crate consigned to us. In size it was an 8 foot cube. Weighing several tons it contained a Fowler 50 kilowatt diesel electric generator. Attempts to haul it on a cart using two bullocks failed dismally.

Fifty Indian sappers from 345 Company marched down to the station and in the heat of the day succeeded in hauling it with several drag ropes about two miles to the Company Lines. It was an example of cheerful cooperation that we were to find characteristic.

Part of our 14 ETC training culminated in a route march of about forty miles, marching day and night by map and compass.. As second in command I marched at the rear to deal with any casualties.. Towards the end of the march some were in a distressed condition with excessive fatigue and blisters.

One officer had a heart attack. I remember carrying two or three distressed sappers over a small but rough river bed wishing someone would do the same for me! It was an over ambitious march considering the climate and country involved. When we finally tottered into the 14 ETC Lines the officers had still to ensure that every single man took his boots and socks off for foot inspection and medical attention before we could fall out and seek a cool drink, a hot bath and a change of clothing.

Later, 345 Company was sent for field training to camp under canvas on the bank of the River Betwa near Orchha Palace. During this period we used to bathe with our Indian troops in the River Betwa, diving in from an old wooden jetty. We had got to know our soldiers quite well by then and there was a lot of friendly skylarking on the jetty.

I was poised to dive in when I heard stealthy footsteps behind Someone was going to try to push me in! Reaching quickly behind my back I grabbed his wrist and took him in with me!. It was Ghulam Mohammed, one of our younger sappers.

Surfacing amid great laughter I then realised to my horror that Ghulam could not swim and was trying to take me under with him. I had to fight him off. It was a very unpleasant experience and nearly a double fatality. The nearest English speaker was out of reach. There were few swimmers among this group of ex agriculturists born and bred hundreds of miles from the sea. We managed to reach dry land mainly by good fortune. No one around had recognised our danger until nearly too late. It was a sharp lesson.

In due course 345 Company returned to 14 ETC. It was now early November and at last the torrid climate was becoming more bearable. We were at last to receive our Company transport, a large number of 30 hundredweight Canadian Chevrolet lorries and 15 hundredweight trucks. We already had Major Eden鈥檚 Chevrolet station wagon..The vehicles had to be collected from the Royal Indian Army Service Corps depot at Agra 133 miles away.

Very few of our drivers had had any practice in driving and indeed it was not clear in some cases whether one or two had even driven a motor vehicle before. Colin Sandeman and Alec Scott set off by rail for Agra with a somewhat suspect driving team. We who remained at Jhansi waited apprehensively for their return. Two days later a cloud of dust on the horizon resolved into a very slowly driven convoy. Despite a few near misses there had been no collisions or injuries. Everyone was greatly relieved. All the vehicles were received painted in the light yellow appropriate to desert service.

Shortly afterwards orders from GHQ India were received to proceed by train and ship to Colombo, Ceylon. The vehicles would have to be repainted to blend with the island鈥檚 lush tropical greenery.

By now officers and men knew each other remarkably well and we had become a family with a recognisable regimental spirit.. Running the Company was still very hard work but we were beginning to settle down. The rail journey from Jhansi was a memorable and enjoyable experience. A complete broad gauge railway train of coaches, box cars and flat cars was allocated to 345 Company and arranged by the guard to travel or to divert into sidings according to the wishes of the Officer Commanding.

We were to travel 1500 miles from Jhansi in the United Provinces to Cochin on the Malabar Coast in South west India, via Nagpur, Vizagapatam, Arkonam, Vellore and Salem. The journey took the best part of three days. It might have taken longer.

The method of progression was for the guard to offer a list of stations at which we could be sidetracked. It was apparently normal practice for the troops to disembark on to the platform or lineside at these points, make lineside 鈥渓angar鈥� (cookhouse) fires, slaughter and cook a few goats and prepare mountains of chupattis made of the traditional rough 鈥榓tta鈥� flour. This was how we started the journey.

It was all good fun but time consuming. After a couple of meal stops of this type Philip Eden asked the guard to telephone ahead and arrange for two steel box cars to be coupled on to the end of the train. One became the Mussulman langar , the other the Hindu langar. The train proceeded with smoke from the cooking fires pouring out of the open doors of the two box cars - cooking en route.

This enabled us to cut down the time of meal stops enormously. The cooks were accustomed to operate in in smoke filled cookhouses and actually found the box cars an improvement! The journey was chiefly memorable for its complete freedom from contact with the outside world. Neither telephones nor mail could reach us. No one knew exactly where we were at any given time. We trundled happily through southern India enjoying this uniquely leisurely experience.

We arrived at Ernakulam, the rail terminus for the port of Cochin, on l9th November 1942, my twentysixth birthday. There was no time for personal or any other celebrations. Everyone and everything on board the train had to be unloaded and transferred as soon as possible to an ominously small single funnelled steamer lying at a nearby wharf.

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