A Story of War

I telephone Bangalore this morning to ask S.A.S.O. whether I ought to wait my relief or move straight. They put me on to A.O.C. a/c Mackintosh who says “We don’t want you here – await your relief.” He is from 1 squadron in Kohat and God knows how long he will take getting down, and they may change the posting in the meantime. I am sick of Trichinopoly. We work 7.30 to 1.30 and then I read a book or so to 6, and then either swim or do some “Strongfortism” exercises, with spring dumb bells on the floor, or lie on my bed if I feel too idle to do either. Then drink beer in the Mess, or go to 173 Wing Mess for a good dinner and perhaps some bridge, and the Club on Saturdays. They have excellent cold buffet supper, all for 1/- R, and gin which runs out quite soon – then rum and brandy (Indian) with ginger ale.

I do a low level cross country to visit a jungle warfare school and navigation is quite good at 200′. I have taken on “Albert”, a lascar, as orderly (bearer) and very good he is too, despite his use of “tum” to me. (JDW: familiar form of Urdu?) He was frontier constabulary and stills wears his black hose tops. 25/13 MG Battalion is down these parts with Victor Wainwright as 2nd in command. He and some of them come over to dinner and drinks and we get through quite a good bit of hooch. Ronald Chapman (also 13th) and I meet them regularly every Saturday in the Club. Hammerbeck, whose job I am taking over, said he spent most of his time travelling round the countryside on schemes and exercises etc which will be pretty bloody as I hate Indian railways, especially at this time of year.