A Story of War

This is unfortunately a cultivated part of Assam, the nearest jungle being 40-50 miles away. However, I go round with my revolver and a Greener .310 of Uncle Stanley’s to see what I can get. I fail dismally with the .310 as I cannot zero it properly, not that there is anything worth shooting. Some duck like wading birds, king crows, crow pheasants, crows and a bastard cuckoo which says ‘Who are you?’ the whole time. I spend half a day chasing some jungle fowl. I do a quick draw when I flush them, and one squats on a tree near the .310 but I miss him. However, I shall persevere.

There is a half-eyed pony which I ride a bit. An Australian whaler, and his good eye is damn bad, so that he stumbles and walks into obstacles. An ennervating place this. Breakfast at 9.30 and I don’t feel like rising much before. The green is a good sight, and very unlike the India I know. We go over to the Jorhat Club for tennis and tea. I see the AVLH doing their stuff, but was only introduced to one or two. I suppose I am better off than an assistant tea planter on Rs 250/-. This is a peaceful life, and a pity there isn’t jungle nearby. An ever still rising and falling cadence of bird calls. All varieties, the crow and ‘Who’re you?’ predominating. And me out of the war! God!