大象传媒

We used to watch the Americans practising towing gliders with their Dakotas. We were chatting one day and they said, "Hey, do you want to bring your gun-crew down? We could do with a payload; we'll take you up in a glider." It was ideal. I didn't get permission from anybody, but just took them down there and got into this glider. They ran you off the strip and the plane towed the glider until you got to a certain height and then released it. The glider would then go up, stall and eventually come down to land. In October 1944, I went up three times with members of my crew. It was something I'd never done before; it was quite eerie with only the wind whistling by.

On Christmas Day, 1944, we were invited up to the tea planters' club and it was there that we saw how the other half lived. They had servants for everything - wet sweepers (for doing the toilets), dry sweepers (for sweeping the house) and nannies (for looking after the children). Father Christmas came on an elephant! We had quite a good time.

Kulaura - snakes and showers.
Before we left Sylhet permanently, four of us gun crews were sent to a place called Kulaura. I don't know why we were sent there, as this was going back towards the Imphal area; south-east of Sylhet, nearer Burma. We had lorries and we towed our guns behind us. There was so much dust, I couldn't see them coming behind. We were in the leading lorry so we were fortunate. We had to cross one river by raft.

When we got there, we had to build our own tents. We would go and chop down some bamboo, build a framework and put a tarpaulin over the top. The Indians made their own beds too, by knocking bamboo posts into the ground, putting some cross pieces along and then getting some bamboo, splitting it, beating it and laying it out flat. That's what they'd lie on. Of course, I had my own tent and I still had my old camp bed that I'd brought with me.
And we still had Colonel Fearnly-Whittingstall too. He came to the site on one occasion and asked, "Where's your shower, bombardier?" "Oh, there down in their tents, sir," I said.
"I don't mean that shower!" he said. "I mean a shower to have a bath in!" (Of course, I knew what he was on about really!) "All you've got to do," he said, "is to get them to build a framework round and put some cross members at the top. Put a bucket on the top, with a hole in the bottom and a cork in it. Then you get a can, perforate it and put it underneath the hole. Get them to fill it up in the morning, then, by the afternoon it will be nice and warm with the sun's heat and you can have your shower. I want to see it built when I come next time!" "Right you are, sir," I said. We made it and I used it.
We used to get water delivered daily up to this particular place. We had a big round canvas thing and in the bottom there was a nozzle which you hooked up at the top so nothing would run out. They filled this with water daily. This canvas, when it was well soaked, would become watertight and, because of the sun beating on the canvas causing evaporation, it kept the water cool. We also had a water bottle made of canvas called a 'chuggel'. We'd hang this chuggel, when it was watertight, on the radiator of the van, the most unlikely place you would think of to put it, but the fact was it kept cooler there than it would anywhere else because of the evaporation.
Another thing, we used to carry a razor blade in the top of our stocking. That was in case we got bitten by a snake, so that we could cut it and suck the poison out!
At Kulaura, we had to build our own gun pits. I'll always remember, we started excavating to build this gun pit and we moved something and five snakes came out! Once the snakes had gone, we had to find something to build up around the side to make the shape of the gun pit, because we didn't have any sandbags. I hunted round and found a place where there were some flat galvanised sheets. I got these sheets back to the site and hammered them out. I nearly had the gun pit finished when the officer came round and said "No more galvanise, bombardier!" "Why, sir?" I asked.
"You've been pulling down what the Indians use as a temple!" he replied. "You'll cause a riot here if you take any more!"
I only wanted one more piece. I didn't say any more to the officer, but I still got my one piece of galvanise and got the job done!
While we were at Kulaura, we met an officer who had been stationed at Yate. He was a sergeant by the name of Blocksome. I never knew him but my mate did. We were such a small crowd up there. I think there were three gun crews, Sergeant Hodgson, Alf Kefford and myself. So officers and all mucked in of a night-time to have a drink or whatever. After a few weeks we went back to Sylhet.

Ranchi - 'sick and defaulters' duty
Eventually we were on the move again. This time we went down to the state of Bihar, to a place called Ranchi. We were still on active service, but we knew there was no chance of any action, not now.
While I was there, I was made 'sick and defaulters' orderly. This meant that I had to get up in the morning and get the duty driver and his 15cwt truck. Those wishing to go sick would report to me and I'd then put them in the truck and take them some little distance to the MO, the Medical Officer. Those who were given MD (medicines on duty) were sent back to camp. Others might have to go and see some skin disease person, while others had VD. First I had to take them to see Major Mackenzie at CMH, then drop some of them off in Ranchi itself or take others to another hospital somewhere or other. Then I'd have to go back and pick up. I don't remember whether or not I got back in time for 'tiffin', our midday meal.
About four in the afternoon, I had to take the defaulters - those who were put on charge for disobeying orders or whatever. I lined them up on the parade ground, which we also used as the cricket pitch and the football ground. They had to have full kit on and we'd add a few stones to make them a bit heavier, then I'd march them up and down for about an hour, sometimes doubling them up. "Quick march! Left, right, left, right!" I always remember one more easy-going officer saying, "Aren't you cruel, bombardier!" But if I hadn't done it, I'd have got told off myself. It was punishment you see.

We had a bombardiers' mess at Ranchi - it was a special privilege given to us by the Regimental Sergeant Major. Usually, only sergeants were allowed a mess of their own, but he said that if we ran it well he would let us have the privilege of a mess in the same way. So we put forward my mate, Alf, to be president. "I'll only be president, Ken," he said, "if you'll be barman. You can keep more control than I can." (If he had a drink or two he got a little bit silly). So I agreed to be barman in the bombardiers' mess, which was in a big marquee. We had our lunch in there as well. I had my camp bed behind a blanket and we made a place for a kind of bar. I used to fill up some earthenware chatties with water in the morning because the bombardiers drank mostly gin and orange. I had to serve this up and get them to sign for it. Then the treasurer would give them their bill at the end of the week and they'd pay for it. I had quite comfortable accommodation there. The rest of them were in 'bashers', which were made of bamboo, built with a kind of straw roof. Not quite thatched, but a straw roof that used to keep things cool.
In the evenings, we used to sit in the mess, put the radio on and listen to Vera Lynn and the news from England. We heard of the victory of the Allied forces in Europe on 8th May 1945, and, a little while later, we had a special day of parades (and watched a film called 'Bathing Beauty' starring Esther Williams). Then we heard of the first atomic bomb, and the surrender of Japan on 2nd September 1945.

Sometimes when I was behind the bar, an Indian would come up to me. "Sahib! Sahib! Sick report! Sahib, boat buker!" he'd say. That meant he was ill and had a temperature. I'd feel his forehead and, if I didn't agree with him, I'd tell him to get back to bed or whatever. But if I did agreed with him, I had to get somebody to take over for me behind the bar, get the duty driver and drive forty miles to take him to see an M/O. That was forty miles there and forty miles back, and the roads weren't motorways or anything out there. When we were going off one night, a leopard went off across the road.

It was quite an easy time really. On one occasion we had a football match. I was on the selection committee and they wanted somebody to referee. Nobody seemed willing, so, in the end, although I'd never refereed before in my life (though I knew a bit about football), I volunteered. I got Paddy O'Connor, who was a Lance Jack (lance bombardier) and he offered to referee as well, so we took it in turns. He'd run the line and I'd ref and visa versa. We had quite a few football matches. We played the Assam Police on several occasions, but we could never beat them and they played in bare feet! We also used to play the Gordon Highlanders. The only problem when you got the Gordon Highlanders was that our Sergeant Major was a Scotsman and you were kept up half the night by them playing their blessed bag-pipes. Horrible, I reckon they are! One night they kept me awake until three in the morning. They were in the sergeants' mess, which wasn't far from ours.

We also played cricket, using a mat the length of a cricket wicket. We used to lay it out where we played football, and put the stumps in. There was no grass there and if there happened to be a stone under the mat, the ball would fly!

While I was at Ranchi, I saw Denis Compton play. There was an English touring team of footballers and also a touring team of cricketers, and I saw them both. I think Denis Compton played in both the football and the cricket. I also saw Freddie Mills, the famous boxer. People like that would go round entertaining the troops.

Our ablutions were a little different. There was a big pond where my mate George, from Nottingham, used to go out fishing sometimes. That's where we went to have our bath. We'd stand on the bank, lather ourselves up, then dive in and wash ourselves off again.

I visited Calcutta again whilst I was in Ranchi. This time I went with two sergeants, Sergeant Ross and another sergeant. Sergeant Ross was a glass blower at Pilkington's, in Liverpool. He was a single chap, a proper tearaway. We were billeted at the racecourse up near Howrah Bridge. If you got up early enough, you could queue up and get tickets for different swimming clubs and have transport to them as well. As I was pretty good at getting up in the mornings, I'd be down there first thing to get these free tickets. There was the Calcutta Swimming Club, the Saturday Club and the Tolegunge Club. Quite a select body of people went to the Tolegunge Club, but we got in free of charge and even got free coffee. It was in these swimming clubs that I learnt to swim. I had two weeks holiday in Calcutta and it was a nice change.

We spent Christmas 1945 at Ranchi, and our stay there was quite enjoyable. It was round about then that I started to learn to drive a jeep. I had a couple of outings in this jeep - it was a left-hand drive because it was American. Then we were told we were on the move, quite a considerable distance. Some would be going by road and some by train. My mate Alf had also just started to learn to drive and he was told he was going by road. By the time he'd done so many thousand miles to Kamareddi, near Secundrabad where we were moving, right in the center of India, he could drive. 'Muggins' was sent by rail!

Kamareddi, central India.

On the rail journey to Kamareddi, we told the Indians to make us tea in the mornings and to see the engine driver about the hot water. One morning they came to the window of the carriage and said, "Sahib, Sahib, kuchni pani!" which meant that there wasn't any water to make the tea. We couldn't understand why. Then we found out that over night we had changed engines from steam to electric!

When we arrived at Kamareddi, I had a different sort of duty that was the easiest of the lot. I was made mess caterer for the BORs, because they were beginning to Indianise things by then. I was made mess caterer and we had our 'basher' that four of us slept in. We employed a 'bearer' for a few annas a week, Sudon his name was. He would come around with a cup of char in bed for us in the mornings, clean our shoes and what have you. Before, we'd had to do our own clothes, but now we would send them to the 'doby waller', who would do our laundry for us. Sudon would come around in the morning, saying "Char, Sahib! Char, Sahib!" I'd get up, go out for my breakfast, then tell Das, the cook, what to get for tiffin. We had our main meal in the evening, but we'd often have curry and rice mid-day. After breakfast, I'd go back and lie on my camp bed, have a read and go back to sleep or whatever. About ten o'clock, I'd get up and say to Das, "Char, montum, BOR sahibs." That meant sergeants and bombardiers would be coming down for lunch. He'd get that ready for them. Later on, I'd make sure he had tiffin sorted out.

That was all I was doing. It was really cushy! I'd only see the officer once a week -that was when I went to get my pay. There wasn't any point really in me being out there. Other than at Imphal, I might as well have been home. I'm not going to kid you that I was any hero, because I wasn't. We did what we were told and made the best of what we had, and I certainly did that. I never volunteered for anything unless I thought it was a cushy number. I'd go down there and, if the officer asked, "Oh, Bombardier, can you referee a football match tonight?" I'd say "No!" if I had other arrangements

While we were at Kamareddi, they got a bulldozer and made a hockey pitch. I'd never played hockey, but I used to go up and watch them. They made a level pitch and the Indians were quite good.

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