MADRAS, INDIA - SUNBURN AND PUT ON A CHARGE

       I will just touch on the sun burn and the Chaves.  On February 4th, my 23rd birthday, John McTaggart and I decided to go to Elliot's Beach "to swim" and then to the Toc H where Mac insisted on buying supper.  We were fully aware of the danger of the sun and we did not sun bathe.  We undressed [wearing suit underneath] and ran into the water cavorting about for a few minutes.  There was an Indian guard, sort of lifeguard on duty who was supposed to ring a bell if sharks were spotted. 

He was just there to get some buckshee. There were two red flags up and a floating barrier area behind which one must stay because of sharks.  There was also a warning of a strong undercurrent, so we simply sat in the water up to our chins and talked.  I cannot recall now for how long, but it was not long.  We came out got dressed and went to the Toc H.  By this time we were both looking pretty red all over.  It was at this point we both began to feel very hot and a little dizzy.  We consumed lots of non-alcoholic beverage. Time passed and then I  mentioned to McTaggart that I thought I had better leave as I wasn't feeling that great and I had an appointment. 

It so happened that I had been invited to dinner at the home of Mr. & Mrs. Chave, [he a civilian surveyor], from Vancouver, B.C.  I had met Mrs. Chave at the YMCA Canteen in Madras.   I do not recall what MacTaggart did.   About 5:30 I left Mac and got a rickshaw out to Chave's. Their home was named TORFELS and they lived at Nungambakam High Road, Madras.   They entertained their many guests by playing lots of outdoor games.  Badminton was on the program, along with table tennis. 

On this particular occasion I didn't feel in the mood for anything.

I ate only a small portion of my meal,  and told Mrs. Chave I wasn't feeling well.  She told me to go into their front room and lie down.  I now had a headache. She plied me with liquid, non-alcoholic and kept me in the cool under the fans and gave me some aspirin.  They wanted me to stay overnight.  I said I could not as I was on duty the next morning.

I took a rickshaw to Chetput Station and just missed the train to camp.  I had to wait a half hour for the next one.  I felt horrible and very sorry for myself.  The next train was full and I had to sit cramped next to a drunk Yank airman.   Every time the train swayed his weight was thrust against me.  So much for sitting quietly.  Finally I got to Grundy Station and wouldn't you know it, the Yank and I shared a rickshaw to 41 Bungalow where I was billeted.  He was going on farther to No. 2 Camp.

      In the morning I could hardly move.  My skin felt taut.  My joints felt stiff.  When I first moved to get out of bed I realized that my entire body [except around my privates] was burnt red. I was barely able to slip on my shorts.  I hobbled across the median over to the mobile van where I was to go on duty.  I think I met up with McTaggart on the way.  We were a fine looking pair.  Mac and I were relieving George Thornton and Ken Yates.  George helped us off with our shirts.   

We struggled through and endured the day.  Our shift ended and with more groaning we put on our shirts and headed back to the billet.  I went right to bed and spent another horrible night. 

The next day we were on duty at 8 a.m. I awoke to find I was covered all over in lovely ripe blisters; all over my back abdomen, arms and thighs.  We were in such agony that we stayed on watch all that day and until 11:30 at night.  We didn't want to budge or eat or anything.  We would normally have been on watch that night but Bill's Brown and Fisher did it for us. The next morning, Monday, February 7th, Mac and I reported sick and were sent to the British Military Hospital in the Fort in Madras.  Here we were literally dipped in a dark solution of some sort and just laid on top of a bed.  A sort of crust formed and we stayed like that, more or less "until we were done". Our Indian doctor was quite surprised that we had sunburn.  He could not seem to fathom this.   We were in hospital for two weeks and CHARGED WITH SELF-INFLICTED INJURY, a serious offence in wartime.   Fortunately our C.O., Squadron Leader Noble,  a Battle of Britain pilot who had suffered burns in a crash, and whose present facial skin had once been his buttocks, appreciated the agony we had experienced.  In fact he told us a cute little story about kissing WAACs and then informing them they had just kissed his arse.  He was very sympathetic and our punishment was one weeks loss of pay.  TO BE CONTINUED

Flood, Sunburn- Mrs. Chave from Vancouver.

Our living conditions changed quite drastically from Risalpur.  Our actual beds, [charpoys, made of rope for springs], were in old horse stables.  This had been an old estate, taken over when war was declared. Two beds to a stable.  There was no running water.  All water was fetched from a well and had to be boiled before drinking. All washing and shaving was done in cold water.  No showers or baths.  The rule was, to wash down as far as possible, up as far as possible, and POSSIBLE, when

possible.

We were taken to all meals by lorry a total  trip of 18 miles a day.  If requiring a shower [and who didn't?] you had to be out on the road to catch the shower lorry at 6:30 p.m. each night.  This took you to the main aerodrome where better facilities were available.  At Madras I was on a Mobile Signals Unit attached to #4 Operations Room, St. Thomas Mount.  Len Brown and I were on the same radio shift here on the R/T Tender handling all squadrons in and out, working with the control tower and giving bearings to any aircraft requiring same.

     It was a very busy station.   There was a mish-mash of aircraft here; Liberators, P38's, Mitchells, Blenheims, Beaufighters and Hurricanes.   After only a short time there, Len Brown and Alec Cox were posted again.  I wasn't to seeLen Brown again for 35 years. 

Our shifts were changed quite often from day to night and different crews came and went.  At one point Ken Yates came into my life and we had many good times together while on shift.  Ken was most interesting as he had been a reporter on a Manchester newspaper. I spent a New Year's at Madras with Ken Yates and we both said we were not going to just sit there and do nothing about it.  Along with Bill Brown, a friend named Dormer and Ken Yates we each put in Rupees 6 Annas 8 and bought one small bottle of Parry's Navy gin and a large bottle of Snowflake gin.  A large bottle of Special Whiskey and a bottle of cordial[lime] for a mixer.  We bought a pound of tongue and a pork pie. Well the four of us got quite merry and after emptying the large bottle of gin we filled it with water, tied it to a string, went outside and christened the Mobile Tender, "Gertie".  After that we took turns going over to the canteen at #41 Bungalow to see the off-duty boys [Most flights were down for the holiday], and the WAACs who were celebrating.  All the Ops Room officers were there including our C.O. Squadron Leader Noble.   Squadron Leader Noble was kissing a WAAC a Happy New Year.  I asked him if he had any more right to kiss a WAAC than I did.  He said, "No, go right ahead, and this is how you do it."  He then kissed another WAAC.  Of course he was tight as I was.  In fact everyone was loaded.  Good job operations were down for the night.

      I should say at this time, that "our canteen" was self-made.  Much had been done before I arrived on the scene of course, but  everyone took a turn at running the canteen.  We had shifts in the canteen just as we had shifts with our war work.  This included ALL RANKS, no exceptions,

so it was not uncommon to be stoking up the fires for the tea and making sandwiches with a Flight or even a Wing/Co on some occasions.  We were all equal in the canteen when off duty.  It was a nice tight little unit. To my surprise one day, I met John MacTaggart and George Thornton, posted down from Risalpur and I was to be on shift with Mac, once again.

      The things I remember about Madras are a bad flood in which many of us lost a lot of our belongings; having to drive a total of 18 miles a day for all three meals; meeting a very nice Canadian family the Chaves from Vancouver.  Getting a terrible sun burn over my entire body and being put on a charge.  I will just touch on the sun burn and the Chaves.  On February 4th, my 23rd birthday, John McTaggart and I decided to go to Elliot's Beach "to swim" and then to the Toc H where Mac insisted on buying supper.  We were fully aware of the danger of the sun and we did not sun bathe.  We undressed [wearing suit underneath] and ran into the water cavorting about for a few minutes.  There was an Indian guard, sort of lifeguard on duty who was supposed to ring a bell if sharks were spotted. 

He was just there to get some buckshee. There were two red flags up and a floating barrier area behind which one must stay because of sharks.  There was also a warning of a strong undercurrent, so we simply sat in the water up to our chins and talked.  I cannot recall now for how long, but it was not long.  We came out got dressed and went to the Toc H.  By this time we were both looking pretty red all over.  It was at this point we both began to feel very hot and a little dizzy.  We consumed lots of non-alcoholic beverage. Time passed and then I  mentioned to McTaggart that I thought I had better leave as I wasn't feeling that great and I had an appointment. 

It so happened that I had been invited to dinner at the home of Mr. & Mrs. Chave, [he a civilian surveyor], from Vancouver, B.C. 

Baboons - Officer ticks me off - thence to Madras 

One day I was called to see the Officer i/c Wireless Section, and without any warning he quizzed me on all I had been taught at Cranwell and some practical stuff since graduation.  After the grilling, I was given my L.A.C. props to put up.  This was for Leading Aircraftsman, and

meant a little more pay.  Today, I couldn't pass that test if my life depended on it.

Wanting so desperately to fly I found it very frustrating at this O.T.U.  as almost every week I watched some Indian pilot prang an aircraft, failing to put down his landing gear.  I kept saying to myself, 'if only I had the chance'.

We had a very pleasant Christmas at Risalpur.  Quite a good dinner.  I was surprised.  We had some of the 14th Army chaps in with us, same chaps who had conducted the ground defence course I was on.  One named Ted was quite an artist and drew something for me in my autograph book.

A couple of the lads here got really sick on what we call wog whiskey.  God knows what it is made from.  Closest comparison would be drinking anti-freeze I suppose.  We threw some of it into the fireplace that was in our hut and it just burst into flame.

In the New Year Len Brown and I moved into a different hut, #29, don't know the reason, just asked to move by higher powers.   Pat Rea and Alec Cox were moved to #3 bungalow. The hot season was upon us and Len Brown and I got some relief of a posting to what is called a Hill Station, in the mountains of northern India.  Our train took us to Rawalpindi and from there a lorry took us up into the hills.  What a hair-raising journey that was on the narrow winding mountain roads.  We arrived at a place called Lower Topa and had two weeks there.  About 5 miles away was Murree, a larger village that had two cinemas and believe it or not a sort of honky tonk roller rink.  You must realize that over the decades the British forces have always taken the hot season in the Hill Stations and many things were provided for them, all to our benefit of course.  About two miles from our camp was another place we frequented called Jhikagali.  We could walk to these places in the cool of the mountains and it was very much like walking through the woods at Qualicum River campsite.  Only difference was there were baboons in the trees.  Sometimes in great hordes they would follow you.  We learned that you must not talk to them or make threats with your arms or with sticks.   We did so on one occasion and were soon experiencing much chattering and a barrage of broken branches thrown down upon us.  They also started to come much lower to the ground.   Back at camp and telling of our experience we were told by an "old timer" that we were very stupid to tease them, as when in large numbers they have no fear of attacking.  On returning to camp Risalpur after our brief respite at the Hill station, we learned of the death of a Corporal Griffiths, from heat exhaustion, when the temperature had risen to 120 F on our air strip while we were away.  We worked on "the flights" from 6 a.m. until 1 p.m. and slept or rested, in the afternoon.  It was just too, too, hot to exert oneself.  In the evening we strolled over to the canteen and drank ice cold lemonade.

About this time I had heard of transfer to the RCAF being a possibility, so filled out a form and left it with the Orderly Room.  At the same time they were calling for Observers foraircrew on Beaufighters.  I thought, what the hell, I'll take another shot at it, they might not notice my colour defect this time.  I saw my C.O. and filled out all the necessary forms, had a medical and no colour test, great,  and my application was  sent away to HQ.  I never did have any acknowledgement of either application.

Risalpur was really quite a dream of a station, other than the heat.  The food was quite good for RAF fare.  If we did our job we were left alone, and there was little in the way of bullshitty parades.  However, I did have a small run in with one of the officers.  I had been in the canteen one hot night.  I had tucked my cap in my belt, undone the

buttons at my neck and rolled up my sleeves.  After a few drinks it was time to leave.  I walked outside the way I was.  An officer on a bike was riding by, spotted me and shouted "AIRMAN! - AIRMAN!"  I stopped.  He shouted at me, "AIRMAN! You are stupid!"  I immediately got my dander up.  I spoke back to him.  "Sir," I said, "I am not stupid."  He didn't like that and continued to berate me about my sleeves being up, my neck button undone and not wearing my cap.  I agreed he was correct, but said to him, "You are quite right sir about my appearance, but I AM NOT STUPID!"  I was wearing "CANADA" patches on my shoulder, which he obviously saw.  Had I  been a Britisher I would most likely have been put on a CHARGE.  He actually apologized to me while I was putting on my hat, rolling down my sleeves and buttoning my collar.  Asked me where I was from in Canada and what I was doing in the R.A.F.  

One day a few of us had the opportunity to go along with a group of visitors on a lorry trip up to the famous Khyber Pass of Afghanistan.  We were very close to the Afghan border, just an afternoon trip.  I saw some of the memorial cairns concreted into the mountain sides,   honouring the different British regiments that had served in the days of the tribal wars.

Suddenly, when I least expected it, I was posted again.  Len Brown and Alec Cox were posted too, and on the same train.  Instead of the expected posting to the Forward Area I was sent down to Madras in southern India.   On the way south we stopped at Delhi.  Spent some time in the Wavell canteen and as we had some time there;  we took in the Taj Mahal at Agra not too far away.  Describing the Taj is very difficult.  I suggest anyone who reads this and is interested, look it up on the Internet.

It was a two-day journey from Delhi to Madras.  The train took us on a wandering, climbing, twisting trip.  I admired the British and their railroad construction.  There was no doubt that through the rail system they had established, that they built the nation; of course at the same time exploiting the place and keeping "the natives" in their place.

Late on a Saturday night we arrived at Central Station in Madras.  A lorry was waiting to take us to our station at St. Thomas Mount about 8 miles away.  We were not billeted on the actual airfield but at the Operations Room, a place called #41 Bungalow.