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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

LUCKY FOR SOME

Late in 1943, a weekly Service Newspaper was produced and issued free, called "SEAC". It's purpose was to keep us informed of news and events in South East Asian Command, including India Command and the 14th Army, and the progress of the War in the East and Far East. It was produced by Frank Owen, and ex-Fleet Street journalist, who later wrote a book called "The Campaign in Burma", of which I still have a copy. It cost 2s 6d in 1957.

"SEAC" also advertised places in India where one could go "on leave" and this set me off on my only "leave" in India. In October 1944, with my friend Harry Birkinshaw, I went to Bangalore, 3000ft up in the hills of South India. We stayed at a small, comfortable hotel run by an Indian family, the food was good, and we lived like civilians for two weeks. We played tennis, went swimming, toured the town and its beautiful parks, we went to dances. Hiring bicycles, we explored the surrounding country, the Lal Bagh terraced botanical gardens, and saw a fabulous Maharaja's palace.

We broke journeys there and back for half day visits to Calcutta. What a madhouse that city was! The huge Howrah Station was crowded with people, many natives seemed to be actually living - and cooking - on the platforms and in the entrance hall. Crossing the massive steel suspension Howrah Bridge, we found the streets just one mass of people, the roadways chock-a-block with pedestrians, rickshaws, bicycles, cows, and the ubiquitous beggars every few yards. That was as far as we got, we were not sorry to leave behind Calcutta and its teeming millions.

The next landmark was Christmas, which we celebrated in good style. Being a small unit it was more like a large family celebration. The dinner was served by our four Officers and four Sergeants, who waited on us at table in true Army style. This was 1944, my fourth Christmas in India, so I was beginning to wonder how soon my "boat would be in". This was how we referred to repatriation, meaning your passage was booked on the next troopship going back to England. The official term of service in India was 4 years, so I expected to be on my way some time in March, with any luck.

By New Year (1945) the 14th Army had crossed the Chindwin River in Burma and would soon be driving down the road to Mandalay, and by the end of January, American and Chinese forces had re-opened the Burma Road to China. The fighting was now getting further South, the main line of communication still over the Imphal - Kohima Road, but air transport planes were increasingly able to use recaptured airfields in Burma to fly in supplies.

I now had another Fitter working with me, one Bill Savage who had come to us straight from England. He was "learning the ropes" and the language, ready for when my time was up. However, it was a complete surprise when, one day towards the end of January, we were busy in the workshop and the Section Officer stuck his head round the door and said "Callis, your boat's in"! Four others in the Camp got the same message. Wow, did we celebrate that night!

HOMEWARD BOUND
March 1945

Several days later we set off on our long, long journey home, down the river once again, on to Calcutta, then 1000 miles across India to Bombay. Languishing in a large Transit Camp for several days, I met up with Bill Wesley again, and we travelled home together. On March 3rd we embarked on the "Orion", 23,000 tons, a good class of ship of the Orient Line.

We came the shorter way home, across the Arabian Sea, into the stifling hot Red Sea, then slowly through the Suez Canal. We passed another ship, full of fresh troops on their way out to India. It was within shouting distance, and many were the teasing remarks and wisecracks that echoed across the intervening water. We anchored at Port Said and were welcomed by the shouts of the bumboat tradesmen, waving their wares, and Arab children diving for coins thrown from the decks. We had a few hours on shore there, the only time during the whole four weeks long voyage.

Unfortunately I had packed my camera in my kitbag, which was stowed in the ship's hold, so I missed the opportunity of getting many interesting photographs during the voyage. However, it would not have been able to capture the deep blue colour of the Mediterranean which, when looking down into it from the ship's deck, was like looking into a sea of blue ink.

Many of us were given small tasks to do each day to help with the running of the ship, and with five others I went to the Butcher's Department for and hour or so. We had to get a day's supply of frozen meat - sides and quarters of beef, whole carcasses of mutton - and other frozen foods from the refrigerator rooms down near the bottom of the ship, and bring them by lift up to the Galley. Once a week we had our midday meal with the butchers, who gave us the best cuts from our own choice of meat.

On our way through the Mediterranean we called at Malta and anchored for a time in Valetta Harbour, the docks and town still looking very battered from the three year long siege. Our next port of call was Algiers, in North Africa, then on to Gibraltar where we anchored in the harbour overnight. A destroyer plied to and from between the lines of ships all night long, dropping depth chargers, which reverberated through the ship like blows from a sledgehammer. There were obviously some U-boats in the vicinity.

We eventually disembarked at Gourock on April 1st 1945. we travelled by troop train down to Thirsk in Yorkshire, where we stayed overnight at an Army Disembarkation Camp. The following day we were issued with our Pay, Patriation Leave Passes and Travel Warrants. During that day there were queues at every local telephone box as men phoned their homes with news of their impending arrival. A special evening train had been laid on for those heading for London so, because it would be too late to get a connection from Peterborough to Wellingborough, I decided to go up to London and then back to Northampton.

When we pulled into the London Station at 10.30pm, the platform was crowded with waiting wives, girlfriends and families. As men leapt from the train there were arms waving everywhere, names being called, people running to find each other, yells and shrieks of joy, ecstatic embraces, emotional reunions.

It was a very touching scene, and we who had no-one to meet us watched from the train for several minutes, not wanting to intrude, then we climbed out and joined the chattering, jubilant crowd.

Bill and I caught a train at Euston, which we were told stopped at every station from there to Northampton. Bill wanted to get off at Cheddington in Bucks, where he lived, but it turned out that Northampton was the first stop. That was at 1am, so he had to wait until 6.30am for his train. We went to the station canteen, which was open all night then, at 2am, two policemen from a patrol car came in and said they would give me a lift home, which I gladly accepted.

Arriving at the Farm I rang the front door bell two or three times, but nothing happened, no-one came, no-one woke. Trying the door, I found it was not locked so crept inside, dumped kitbag and pack in the hall, and went to sleep on the dining room sofa, where they found me in the morning. That front door had been left unlocked ever since I was last at home four years ago.

After enjoying three weeks Repatriation Leave, I reported back to the Royal Corps of Signals for another year's service, and more travels in England and Overseas.

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