A Story of War

(Being a continuation of my previous record ‘Flying and Soldiering’ which I closed, leaving many blank pages, on proceeding to Burma. This is the only book I was able to get in Kohat and somehow a different muse seems to live in it. That is to say, a scribbling, hurried muse, who records beauty, drama and tragedy like a mere official communique. Why? I know not. Perhaps he will change.)

Off tomorrow to Laskio. Route Lahore, Delhi, Cawnpore (night stop), Gaya, Calcutta (night stop), Chittagong, Akyab, He-Ho, Laskio. Sixteen aircraft and a DC2, and I believe 1 squadron IAF, are going down the same route.

Yesterday a party in the Club, and I get a bit whistled, waking up with a slight head, the first time ever, despite my famous ‘Roman’s trick’. Teddy and I get an advance of pay at Indian rates. It lays down we shall draw down pay at RAF Indian rates, but I didn’t get that in Iraq and I don’t see how I’m going to get it in Burma. I take my head down to the hangars this morning and try to load up the Lysander, but it seems to have a hell of a lot of extra kit in it.

RAF vs an officers team rugger yesterday and I score a try. A cypher in last night that we move on 26th, so I will close this book as I must pack it.

Here’s hoping I shall live to open it again.

Teddy Humphries comes back from Lahore and prangs his Lysander – breaking the tyres and straining the u/c and wing. Joe married yesterday, but I’m not invited. I buy a bottle of whisky and we give Jack Moulding a farewell party in his room. Loftus of the ‘Camels’ there and Pete Jennings in cracking form. Yesterday I go with Farr in the Valencia to Miranshah as second pilot. Rather like driving a ship in a heavy sea, but I manage OK. We inspect the “Scouts” Mess but no one in.

Today I go with Bill Tate to Peshawar as second pilot. Hammerbeck goes in a Lysander and attempts to shoot us up, but is outmanoevred by Bill who swings his Valencia into aeleron turns and eventually puts her down to about 160 and chases him down to the ground. Then both landings are done by side-slipping turns.

I call at Grindlays (Bank) in Peshawar and fix up a few things; also I give Hammerbeck a piece of my mind when he starts being rude on the tarmac.

I get Joe Nelson round for a drink last night, with Olga, in the “Ladies Room.” Pete Jennings objects to me ringing the bell so much and spoiling his news, so tears it down. Then he and Hammerbeck come and join us and then we go to the Pub for more whisky and back to the Ladies Room for dinner. I get rather tight but in bed by 12pm. Hammerbeck annoys me. He is always ready to talk about the Western Desert and the hours he has put in. He means well, poor chap, but does get our backs up. Bill Bowden of 60 squadron recently heard over Tokio radio!

What the brassiere said to the hat “you go ahead and I will give these two a lift.” I wrote to Baker at AHQ and told him my moans, but I expect he will be so fed up with us he will return us to the army, or post us to a squadron in India where we can’t complain. I do want to see Burma – now!

More doing nothing and a little baseball with the Sergeants. Yesterday drank with Joe Nelson and Teddy and Joe’s girl Olga who has come up from Bombay, and they hope to marry on Sunday. Alot of whisky, and dinner in the Park Hotel. Joe Nelson from New Zealand, and lately from Aden, and old Jack Moulding – 7 years in the Straits Police – are two people I can sit and listen to for hours. There’s a sort of romance in these sort of people – only I can’t quite place it. Sergeant Moyer, a young Canadian, and Sergeant Glass, a big brawney Australian, are two more. Nought to do but hang about, all packed up.

The train party goes off on 3rd and ought to reach Calcutta today. It rains like hell and we stand about in it as it takes them two hours too long to marshall the train. Then I have to find seats for the followers and the Indian other ranks of A.I.L. section in the dark. A complete shambles with men jumping on anywhere as the accommodation provided by the railway authorities was inadequate. At last they get away, most of the troops intoxicated, and we, the air party, start a deadly existence of waiting, waiting. Clay pidgeon shooting one morning, and we go out on a long range another. But we can’t go before they arrive, which will be 20th at least.

Bill Tait posted here in place of Duncan who retires to Movement Control at AHQ. We give him a party in the “Ladies Room” with ‘Snippet’ Coverton whom I used to know at Pachmari, Mary Humphries and one other. Hammerbeck brews Black Velvet and then we abandon the chairs for cushions round the fire. Potent stuff! I remember Bill Tait lying under a screen, myself sitting on a chair perched on top of him.

Bill Duncan can’t manage and departs, ill, for home. His wife Alison and the rest sit down to dinner with “Tiger’s Milk”, another horrible cocktail of Hammerbeck’s. Why spoil a good liqueur, though I never touch ‘em myself.

Devilish cold and I wish I hadn’t packed my flying boots. In Burma its 14/6d plus Rs72 allowance, less British income tax, payable in India less Indian income tax – I’m sure. Teddy Humphries has written to AHQ about it – but what to do? “Pay to fly with the RAF.”

I celebrate New Year in bed as usual. Bill Duncan overshoots and writes off a Lysander at Miramshah. I have been there three days running on various jobs – doing air to air which was damn bad, though I get one hole on the drogue. (JDW: A drogue parachute – a funnel-shaped or cone-shaped device towed behind an aircraft as a target.)

Today a signal in requiring two Lysanders for shore patrol in the Andamans from Port Blair – only Nobby and Nelson volunteer, whilst I am still thinking it over. Sgt Ridley to go with Nelson and I get rid of my useless airgunner, Sgt Turner too, with them. I am put in charge of enrolling followers and it’s a hell of a job.  A havildar from 7/13th comes down to drill them daily. I am all packed up ready to go. The rail party departs on 6th, and will be in Calcutta on 10th.

I go over with Jerry to visit the Kohat Pass Arms Factory. A most “kachha” idea and no sanitation visible. Small boys turn sort of bicycle wheels which work lathes for boring the barrels. Other men make the various parts and then you can have ‘B.S.A.’, ‘Ishapore’ (JDW: the Birmingham Small Arms company, and the Indian rifle factory in Ishapore) etc stamped on as you choose. One stamp was ‘Ezfield’ (JDW: presumably a mis-spelling of Enfield). Arms are only made on demand but you can choose your own barrel and bolt etc and have the lot put together in your presence with a walnut stock. Martinis sell for 40-50/- and Lee Enfields for 60-70. They also make shotguns, single bore.

Later went riding with Blackwell on the ‘Piffer’ horses and did some magnificent jumping, which I hadn’t done for years.

A trip to Miramshah today to take a spare part over. ‘Springheel’ Jack is a Lt/Colonel and off to Delhi to command 20/6 R. Rifles, a garrison battalion. A farewell party in the Piffer Mess and I stay on late to dinner with Blackwell, discussing Burma and Army cooperation in general. A great party at the Pentons on the 28th – I am in cracking form owing to ‘old Angus’ and Vodka. We play ‘Murder’ and ‘Consequences’ and some pretty rude ones turn up.

Air raids on Rangoon – the day Wavell was there!

We gave a dance on 26th to which all Kohat comes. Hammerbeck brews a very good hot rum punch which is much approved. Jerry Beck very drunk. I have dinner with the Pentons first, which was really the best part of the evening as far as I was concerned. Teddy Humphries arrives last night after being ‘lost’ by the Indian Government in Cairo for six weeks. “Tiny” Irwin swears he is a V.R. (JDW: not sure what this means) to all and sundry, and is trying to push his way home. But now Teddy’s been found they’ll like as not catch him too.

Our rail party has to be in Calcutta on the 10th, so don’t suppose we shall leave (for Burma) before 28th January. Peace establishment, British rates of pay, in rupees I believe.

Yesterday (Christmas Day) with great trouble I raise an officers team to play the Sergeants Mess. They arrive drunk at 4.15pm and start playing with bottles and cigarettes in their hands, which are removed. On being knocked over, most of them stay flat out until lifted up. We get eight before half time, but then the game breaks up as Sergeants Bower, Sedgewick and Philpots start fighting – the spectators meanwhile carry on with the football.

Dinner with the Scotts, he is chief equipment officer, and we play games with pencil and paper which I haven’t done for years. Between 7.30 and 1.30 I get three small glasses of beer, but knowing the ropes I went well fortified beforehand and was in cracking form.

Went down to the Signals Mess the other day and invented a new trick – “Do you play tomatoes?’ Falconer and I happened to find some tomatoes in the kitchen so brought one out. Then I held it on a chap’s head and we all put our hands on top “to lift him up” whilst Falconer clapped his down on top and squashed the lot. The Sergeants thought it rather a good trick…