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Following my brief stay I was given 2 weeks sick leave and flown to Sythet which was a railhead for a hill station in Shillong. This entailed yet another 80 to 100 miles of bus travel with a thousand foot drop on one side and an unclimable vertical cliff of the other. It was stated that whilst only about four British lorries went over the side with all killed, ten times as many Indian lorries did the same without a single casualty, the Indians having the good sense to bail out earlier.

Whether for security reasons or just plain cussedness, we had been informed that we would not have a plane back but would have to make our way by road and train in the best way we could. This problem we put to the back of our minds whilst we enjoyed the leave. Then came time for our return and we had to face the knotty problem. No solution came to mind until one clever dick said jokingly, ‘Why don’t we thumb a lift?’ Not seeing how this would help we looked at him pityingly until he added ‘On an American plane! Once we had stopped laughing and thought of the difference it would make, we decided that they, the Yanks could only say ‘No’. So it was that in our khaki drill with kitbags and side webbing, we diffidently approached an aircrew and popped the question. ‘Sure pal! Sure, climb aboard’ We had of course ascertained that they were bound for Palell which was only 14 miles from Imphal. We had no worries about that short journey. Things could not be better, but, actually they could. In mid flight the co pilot informed us that they had received a message to go to Imphal after all. We could only assume that the high command had realised what important passengers they were carrying and had ordered the change of destination. Still savouring our good fortune, we were given yet another pleasant surprise and invited to stand behind the pilot whilst he landed. This was one of my treasured moments then. Now, thinking about it, it does not surprise me when I read of the American lax security. We had pay books etc., but not once were we searched or asked for any identity.

After what seemed an eternity but was only a matter of 7 or 8 months the 14th army (known as the Forgotten Army) which had undergone jungle conditions which the commandoes would have baulked at, reopened the road and we were able to return to the plains of Bengal. It was at this time that I learned, I don’t remember how, that my twin brother was in Barrackpore. Knowing that a similar unit to ours was stationed there, I requested a transfer. This I was granted without any problem. I did manage to see Bill for a few short weeks before two things happened. First, he was posted away and secondly, my unit which I had reluctantly left to be near him, joined me in Barrackpore. One more example of how important I was thought to be. I will never forget my first words to Bill after over 5 years. I took one look at his gleaming white teeth and said ‘Have you got false teeth?’ We did manage a couple of meetings in Calcutta, though, before we were separated. This was no the first time that there had been a bit of a family reunion. During my first months in Bengal I went to the cinema in Chowringee. Having enjoyed the film in the afternoon, I was coming out when who should be queuing up to go in but my cousin, Joe. He had just returned from the Arakan front. This theatre of war was infamous. I believe that the Saddle was there and it has been said that more of our troops died from malaria and dysentery there than were killed by the Japs. Typically though, I wasn’t to see him again and to this day I do not know if he is alive or dead.

Following a brief lull we were eventually on our way home. Looking forward to returning by air we were very disappointed to find that , due to a strike by the Air Crews we had to return by sea. This we consoled ourselves with, would be a shorter trip, as we would be able to return via the Suez Canal. Once again my privileged position was revealed as we were allotted the seventh largest liner in the world, the ‘Il de France’, which was too big to go through the Suez Canal. Never mind. We were going home, back to Blightly and all we asked was the chance to call in at Cape Town which we had missed on the way out. Not on your Nelly!! The folk of Cape Town had had enough of the hell raising Aussies before and so it was that we were kept in Cape Town Bay and not allowed to dock.

We found it highly amusing to be referred to us in the picture of health and tanned when half of us were sporting various ailments. Any paleness, however, would have been nothing like the complexions of the folk at Southampton when we docked.

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