蜜芽传媒

By March 1944 our training stint at Wingates Rear HQ at Gualior was over but we did get the opportunity of flying into an American airbase at Agra to visit the famous Taj Mahal, all in white marble, on the banks of the River Ganges. A magnificent memorial to Shah Jihan and his wife. A short distance away was the usual terrible poverty seen in most Indian towns.

We now returned to our squadron, which was based at Sylhet, then in Assam, now Bangladesh for the Chindit 鈥淥peration Thursday鈥� that began on 5 March 1944. Little did I know what was before us. In retrospect we had to rough it the previous year 1943 in the desert we shortly had to face the appalling flying conditions when the monsoon broke in May. Our job was to supply the Chindit columns operating in Burma behind the Japanese lines. At first we flew at night, as we had no fighter cover for daylight operations that took us as far as the Chinese Shan States of Western China.

The squadron lost a number of aircraft mainly through weather as the monsoon started to break end April and early May. One of my particular pals Freddie Crowther and his crew failed to return to base at Sylhet. At the time nothing was known but later I learnt that the aircraft broke up either through turbulence or the sheer weight of water, which was known to force aircraft down particularly when fully loaded. This occurred in the Chin Hills near Imphal. Through the Commonwealth War Graves Commission recently, they told me that he and his crew are buried at the Imphal war cemetery. They were killed on 20 July 1944 and are buried in a collective grave of 18 to 20, plot 4, and row D.

During July our crew plus two others remained on detachment at Sylhet when the squadron moved south to Agartal. At that time, because of losses caused by night flying during the monsoon we operated by day but still had no fighter escort so unless we had cloud cover we flew low over Burma. Then on one of these operations just before takeoff one of our engines developed a mag. drop so we had to taxi back for a plug change. This actually saved us. The other two aircraft proceeded on the operation but after crossing the Chindwin River, near Homalin, on the way to the target area near Mogaung one of our army patrols saw the two aircraft being attacked by about 22 Zeros 鈥� Japanese fighter aircraft. Of course they did not stand a chance. Again through the Commonwealth War Graves Commission years later I learnt they were all buried in the Singapore Military cemetery.

One crew that didn鈥檛 return to Sylhet included a particular friend of mine, Freddie Crowther, a Yorkshire man. Almost every night in the mess he played his favourite record on the old wind up gramophone. I wish I could remember it after all these years. That night after his crew failed to return we played his record in memory of him. Many years later through the Commonwealth War Graves Commission I learnt that he and his crew captained by Flight Sergeant Noise were reported missing on 20 July 1944 and the aircraft broke up in appalling weather in the mountains.

On a pleasanter note whilst the squadron was based at Sylhet the Forces sweetheart Vera Lynn visited us. She was aptly named. For two hours with just her pianist she entertained us on a rickety bamboo stage. Between her songs she chatted about the folks back home and said she would tell them about us on her return to the UK.

Then later, because we had an American squadron with us, we were visited by film stars William Holden and Paulette Goddard the second wife I think of Charlie Chaplin. We didn鈥檛 see their show as we had already taken off on an 鈥渙p鈥� but on the way over Burma Paulette called us up on the radio and wished us good luck for which I thanked her and said it was a pity we had missed the show.

Apart from Vera Lynn hardly an ENSA entertainers visited the Far East at this time. They were probably concentrating on the Second Front areas in Northern France after our invasion at Normandy 6 June 1944. There was a certain bitterness felt by the 14th army under General, later File Marshall, Slim. The 14th was called the 鈥淔orgotten Army鈥� but some wit said, 鈥淣ot the Forgotten Army, they back home have never heard of us鈥�.

I recall the words on the memorial at the Kohima military cemetery where the most vicious hand-to-hand fighting of WW11 took place:

鈥淲hen you go home
Tell them of us and say
For your tomorrow we gave our today鈥�

Another wonderful and touching epitaph to my chums, long gone is 鈥淩equiem for an airman鈥� by R.W Gilbert:

鈥淭he pain has stopped
For I am dead,
My time on earth is done.
But in a hundred years from now, I鈥檒l still be twenty-one.
My brief sweet life is over,
My eyes no longer see
No summer walks,
No Christmas trees
No pretty girls for me.
I鈥檝e got the chop; I鈥檝e had it.
My nightly ops are done.
Yet in another hundred years
I鈥檒l still be twenty one鈥�

On one of our night ops, behind Japanese lines our main load for the Chindit Column was a large outboard engine. Crated up it was almost the size of our aircraft door. Attached to it were four parachutes, but over our target area when our dispatchers pushed the crate out of the door, it wedged itself through the slip stream one of the parachutes deployed and fouled the plane鈥檚 elevator in the down position. As we were only at 6 to 800 feet we were within a few seconds of hitting the treetops. We managed to cut the rigging before pushing the crate out. Unfortunately some distance from the target so I am afraid the Column did not get their outboard engine. On another occasion we accidentally bombed our target when the parachute failed to open and the load of mortar bombs exploded on impact.

As well as parachuting supplies to our army columns we also landed on the seven airstrips behind Japanese lines. These were codenamed: Blackpool; Broadway; White City; Chowringhee; Aberdeen; Clysdeside; and Piccadilly. One night after landing at White City the Japanese attacked and our aircraft was somewhat damaged. We were the last to land that night but had no means of getting out until the following night as passengers with some of our army were injured. We were given a Sten gun each and a slit trench for shelter but fortunately the Japanese did not attack that day.

A concern of ours was the knowledge of the faulty safety catch on the Sten guns. Another hair-raising experience we had in attempting to land on one of these airstrips at night. We could only land in one direction and take off in the opposite because of a hill at one end. We had quite a strong cross wind and just before touchdown started to drift into the trees. Harry, our skipper, opened up full power to overshoot but with a full load the aircraft was a bit sluggish and with the knowledge of the hill at the far end of the strip and being at night we feared for the 鈥渂ig-bang鈥�. The army patrol on the hill reported we cleared the top by just a few feet. We got in the second time.

Again at White City we had bags of quick lime in our load. This was needed for health reasons to cover the bodies of the Japanese killed in their suicide attacks and caught up in the barbed wire defence perimeter. One night whilst circling overhead awaiting our turn for landing, and American, when asked his position, said he was at 2000 feet and overhead White City, as he could smell the stink - a slight exaggeration I think. When we were asked, after circling for some time, if we were getting short of fuel, I replied "鈥渘ot yet but we鈥檙e getting giddy up here.鈥�

After our night ops finished due to the almost permanent lines of thunderstorms. On day light ops we had fighter escorts and they used to rendezvous with us over Impala before we flew towards our targets. But many times their leader would call us up if we were held up trying to find our target and say they would have to leave us because of their limited fuel range so we 鈥渉edge-hopped鈥� over the jungle tops back to base. The much longer range Mustangs that could normally stay with us all the way then replaced the Spitfires and Hurricanes. Whilst on our Sylhet detachment we started flying on American operations but of course with our own aircraft and ground crew. Sometimes they had to do some patching up of our fuselage when we were hit by gunfire but fortunately nothing vital was damaged and none of us injured.

On one of these ops we had to land in northern Burma called Myityina on the Irrawaddy River. The Japanese held the other side of the river. Just after we landed the Americans sounded the alarm siren and we saw three Japanese fighter planes coming in low to target our parked aircraft. We ran towards a slit trench, one of the airstrips defences. Halfway there, doing a Roger Bannister, all hell let loose with machine gun fire. But this was not form the Japanese but an American machine gun post firing over our heads at the Japanese aircraft. We threw ourselves to the ground. Nobody was hit although several aircraft were damaged.

On leaving Myitityina with our Mustang fighter aircraft we flew up the Ledo Road to an American strip called Tinkwaksekan. We landed with our two fighter escorts coming in a short while later. Then tragedy struck. The two aircraft landing 鈥� one behind the other 鈥� but unfortunately the second landed on top of the first and on coming to rest the lower aircraft caught fire. The pilot of the upper one got out and desperately tried to help his pal from the lower aircraft. As a last chance a truck rammed the wreckage but the aircraft were jammed together and the pilot of the lower one died when it exploded. Later we heard that the surviving pilot tried to commit suicide the two having been buddies, the survivor having been best man at the other鈥檚 wedding. This was also very upsetting for us having been escorted by the two Mustangs.

On a pleasanter note there was an order from HQ 229 Group in Delhi that personnel on operational squadrons in the forward areas should have a two week leave away from the conditions during the monsoon season that ran from early May to September. At our base at Sylmet we were about 30 miles south of Cherapunji up in the Shillong Hills that had the highest annual rainfall of over 600 inches, most of it during the 4-month monsoon. In spite of all the precautions against malaria most members of the squadron went down with it at some time, though I was one of the fortunates. Dysentry was another evil.

When it was time for our crew to have this leave we opted to travel up to Darjeeling in the Himalayas. After flying from Calcutta we went by train to the foothills then transferred to the mountain railway that wound its way slowly up to the 6000 feet high Darjeeling. Our crew, Harry, Bert, Lofty and myself stayed at the small Swiss hotel from which we could see Kanchenjunga about the third highest mountain and a magnificent sight about 30 miles away. We were the only military at the hotel most of the civilians being tree planters and their families. They seemed to spend most of their day playing bridge, just breaking off for meals. I made the mistake when we were asked if one of us would make up the numbers for bridge by volunteering one day but my idea was to play for a couple of hours, not all day every day. I pointed out that our intention was to get fit by climbing and horse riding and so escaped from the bridge school. In retrospect I think we were mad riding those mountain ponies often at full gallop along the stony mountain paths sometimes with a huge drop into a ravine. As the ponies were sure footed our policy was that if we could stay in the saddle we were fairly safe.

On one occasion I had a good laugh at Bill. We had ridden up and down some hills and as the ponies needed a break we led them to a pond for a drink. My mount just had his drink but Bill鈥檚 mount decided to roll over in the water with him in the saddle. Although he managed to leap off he was drenched in the process.

Another of our activities was visiting the racecourse 鈥� the highest in the world, and the smallest 鈥� 4 laps to the mile 鈥� and probably the most crooked.

There was a horse called Samlep always the hot favourite until in one race the horse reared up on its hind legs three times at the start. We suspected the Indian jockey was jamming a nail or something in its flanks. When at the third attempt the starter let them go Samlep was facing the wrong way and left, as we thought, hopelessly behind. But it caught up the field and on the final straight had overtaken all but one but was hemmed in on the rails and came in second.

At the end of our operational tour we again went to Darjeeling, this time with an American crew and we introduced them to our hair-raising mountain horse riding. Strangely enough one of them coming from Texas had never been on a horse. On rounding a bend he came out of the saddle ahead of us but remembered our advice and we saw him with his arms around the horse鈥檚 neck hanging on for grim death until it came to a halt. Another thing we quickly learnt was never get close to the horses hind quarters as they would lash out to get their own back as the Nepalese could be quite cruel to them. As the result of our first Darjeeling visit our rear gunner, 鈥淟ofty鈥� Heath contracted amoebic dysentery through a suspect pineapple he had on the journey to Darjeeling. Though His normal weight being about 12 stone he almost wasted away until finally with he was invalided back to the U.K. I hope he survived but after the war I tried to contact him for our crew reunion but without success. I recall he came from the Folkestone area of Kent.

During our time after leaving Sylhet and at an airstrip called Hathazari inland from Chittagong Bill and I sometimes went out into the near jungle and with our revolvers fired at the pack of jackals that used to create such a noise at night. Our native bearer warned us that he had heard a hyena with the jackals. Though the jackals were primarily cowardly animals where humans were concerned, there was considerable danger when led by a hyena and would behave like a pack of wolves. On another stroll out and near a native village we heard a commotion by the village pond where they did their dhobying (laundry). They had all scrambled out of the water. Seeing us with our rifles they pointed to what proved to be a Bis-cobra, a very poisonous water snake that could spit its deadly poison at its victim鈥檚 eyes. After firing several shots we killed it and a native retrieved it from the pond. I gave it to our bearer to have it skinned and cured and I intended eventually to take it back to the UK. But after a while it started smelling as it had not been cured properly so I had to throw it away. In all my nearly 3 years out in India and Burma, and apart from the snake charmers, the only other snake I saw was a python near a bush I was passing. I had no idea of its length but its girth was 8 or 9 inches and I did not hang around.

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