I Remember ..... Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Overseas to far-off hot places

The Battalion moved to an old cotton mill in Whalley, near Clitheroe in Lancashire. After embarkation leave spent at Wooburn Green, my dear mother insisted on seeing me off at Reading Railway Station. I vividly remember receiving hugs and kisses from her on the platform, as I was getting my kit into the train. Stretching out the window was a poignant occasion for me, watching my dear mum (a small petite figure) waving, gradually disappearing out of view. On return to the Battalion, I was put on draft. Being issued with tropical kit (khaki shorts and a pith helmet), it was obvious, we, about 14 of us, were destined for far-off hot places! I boarded a large liner, the ‘Otranto’ at Liverpool. Going up the gangplank, with full kit was difficult, like going up the side of a house. We were on ‘F’ deck. We found sleeping in hammocks strange, swaying when we eventually got to sea. The liner went north around the top of Ireland into the Atlantic, where we were in convoy with many other troop carrying liners, escorted by a cruiser and destroyers. Seven days later, early one morning, we came through the Straits of Gibralter into the Mediterranean Sea. The convoy had several alerts but it got safely to Port Said, where we took on extra troops - Americans, who individually had more kit than us and strewed the upper decks. The liner went through the 22 miles long Suez Canal with only inches to spare, so it seemed. We arrived at Aden and stayed a couple of days, then on out into the Indian Ocean, finally docking at Bombay in India. There must have been four thousand troops on board. As you can imagine, exercise and entertainment was limited! Nevertheless, we did participate in tug-of-war on the voyage and got into the final, only to lose to the Royal Artillery, who had about 150 in their draft. Corporal Taylor, a regular soldier, was our trainer.

Our voyage from England lasted about six weeks. At times on deck, one could see flying fish and porpoises. Many men on board were seasick, especially approaching India, with the onset of the monsoon. On arrival at Bombay, we learnt a vessel had caught fire earlier, which had explosives on board and had caused considerable damage to an area of the docks. Leaving Bombay by train to Deolali Transit Camp, we had to march from the station about 3 to 4 miles to the camp, with full kit, during the late afternoon. ('Deolali tap' is often mentioned now; the effects of the sun on newcomers can cause delusions and sunstroke!) We were in tents (8 to a tent) and slept beneath a mosquito net. (In one year, 250,000 men suffered from malaria or dysentery.) Our first task was to dig trenches around the tent to take the western monsoon rain. For about 3 or 4 days and nights, the sky resounded with heavy deafening thunder and fantastic flashes of lightning but frightening when it struck nearby. Then the rain came with the noise like a steam engine. It fell like 'stair-rods', forming small rivers. Our trenches soon filled and it was necessary to bank up the trenches. There were thousands of English troops at Deolali and shortly after arrival there, I was told I was going on a training course, with 50 others from different regiments, northwards in deep penetration in jungle warfare. This was being introduced into the battle for Burma, by the ‘Chindits’, commanded by Major General Orde Wingate. The idea was to reinforce the 'Chindits'. (These men had been dropped from aircraft or by gliders in isolated parts of Burma.)
The jungle was thick, dense and harsh. There were bamboos nearly 100 feet high and tall trees with tangled undergrowth. The only way to progress was to cut through with long bladed knives, carrying our mortars manually. It still rained, rained and rained and to cross swollen streams was dangerous. We eventually finished in the jungle at Goa. The place was called Peint. There were no bashers (huts), no habitants but simply jungle. It was an awe-inspiring spectacle, which was to be our base for several weeks. About 8 of us managed to get a tent up in a clearing, at the top of a slope. (I could take you to the exact spot now, near a large mango tree.) This proved to be a real godsend during the stay. We had tinned corned beef (bully) - boiled, fried, roasted, stewed and every possible way for a change! We threw sticks at the mango tree. It had to be good contact, not like getting down 'conkers'. They took some hitting, nevertheless, it supplemented the corned beef.

On the first night, the undergrowth became alight with virtually thousands upon thousands of fireflies, a remarkable sight, like someone winking. One often wondered if it was the eyes of some wild beast. The monsoon was tipping it down and everything in the tent was washed out - soaked! We set off that morning, towards a river, a couple of miles away and came across a bamboo grove. You could not see the tops and the bottoms were a couple of feet around. I felt really insignificant against their lofty size. We used our knives to hack a few down to make beds off the ground. Returning to the tent, we erected one long piece, on short poles, on one side of the tent, similarly, about a yard apart and finally one long piece, again about a yard away. The large bamboo we split down, flattening them and trimming off the joint knobs to form the bed top. We were up off the ground, kit, and the lot and slept in a row inside, with individual mosquito nets. We slugged mortars down to the river and up again daily, as well as mortar parts (base plate, barrel and tripod) each about 30lbs in weight, plus our rifles. The terrain was rough and rugged with bags of mud. The jungle was the thickest, wild undergrowth and in all my experience abroad, I cannot say I saw any worse. It was intended to show the jungle at its worse and to overcome all the difficulties, which we would encounter. We fired live rounds, both single and battery firing; the bombs exploded, echoing in the jungle. The jungle was alive with animals such as monkeys, deer, wild pigs, and flying foxes (large bats). At night, one could hear jackals and other wild animals calling and moving about outside the tent. Large and small snakes, lizards and every describable insect, only larger than our own at home, we had with us! In fact, the oceans of rain attracted every maggot, fly, ant etc imaginable!

One evening, just before dark, (the light disappears quickly), we were amazed to see a number of native Indians. They appeared to be distressed. With some difficulty, we found out their troubles. We had a couple of days previously seen the spoor (paw marks) near our cookhouse of a large animal which had carried off about five puppies, only yards from our tent. Eventually, the Indians, with the use of their arms and other movements, indicated that one of their water buffaloes (domestic grey oxen) had been attacked and killed by a huge tiger. The carcass had been partially devoured and it was likely to return at nightfall and finish it off. The officer in charge was told and armed with a flask of whisky and rifle, joined the natives, who still used bow and arrows! He sat up in a tree all night but the tiger did not return.
(Personally, he could have slept having drunk his whisky!) Later, he was called back to Deolali, and when he went, there was serious speculation as to a likely outcome! Some of us went to see the carcass and no one volunteered to watch over it, so it was decided we place a teller mine in the carcass, warning the natives to keep away. Nothing occurred that night, but the following evening, just as we were losing day light, we heard an explosion and on examination, found a large tiger, ten feet long, with its underside blown but the head and back was not damaged. We brought it back to camp. I do not know what happened to it eventually. I expect that it finished up as a rug in someone's household. The fact that this tiger had been roaming around us was disturbing. Any more out there? It was probably brought about by our mortar bombs in his locality. This tale is probably the highlight of my jungle experience.

Our last effort, on this course, was to go out into the jungle for five days and survive with limited food. I think we were five in number and we got to a river making a basher of branches, with leaves as the roof. Next, to get a fire alight and keep it going all night whilst still raining was some feat! In the morning, across the river, we watched all the animals come down to drink. Monkeys came down in their dozens, deer, birds; real nature by the river but most fascinating and interesting. Having seen lantern shows as a boy, of animals, missionaries, native huts in far off places, I never expected to have a front seat and see all these things personally. (Television had not been invented.) One morning, we were discovered by some small boys who had bows and arrows. They were very accurate in their use. By gesticulating frantically, in the form of chicken wings, accompanied by crowing, that we were after a chicken, they left us and returned after a while with a live one. Killed, plucked and boiled in a tin can on our fire, we quickly cut it up and devoured it. We gave the boys a tin of 'bully' and other empty cans for use as their arrowheads. We also speared fish in the river.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.