蜜芽传媒

Walthamstow Wanderer 5

By

Albert Augustus Crisp
November 1911 鈥� June 2001

One night we heard a scream - come - shout - come whatever and came out of our tents to look around. There was the officer, minus quite a lot of skin off his knees. Being an officer he had brought sheets with him, and they were his undoing. His tale was that, whilst asleep, his arm had become numbed by lying on it and his sheet had, by tossing and turning, got up tight around his neck. Been as the numbed arm was of no use to him and would not pull away the sheet, which in his panic was a snake, he had leapt out of bed and landed on his knees - hence the lack of skin and the noise, as he couldn't get out of the tent fast enough. He knew a bit more than us about snakes. It was he that gave us orders to remove a tarpaulin from a Dakota that landed at Agartala. It was so stiff that we couldn't get a grip on it. He said, get it between you and sort of link up and hold on to one another's shoulders somehow and frogmarch it along. Anyway we dropped it on the required spot and three snakes slithered away. He said they were "silver rakes".

One instance a Dakota obviously had tried to make the runway. It was pointing at right angles to it. The port wing and elevator were damaged and a piece of tree was protruding from one engine, the fuselage seats were damaged and there was urine in the bottom of the fuselage so it had obviously carried mules. Yanks cleared the ground, which meant removing two trees and clearing away undergrowth and bushes with a mechanical shovel. Then interlocking iron or steel strips were laid down but only wide enough to take the width of the undercarriage. We managed to jack the aircraft up enough to put the safety pins in the undercarriage thus locking it into place.

Funny enough the undercarriage seemed okay but the wing had hit one tree and had slewed it round and the elevator had hit the other tree - or so it seemed. When everything seemed okay to man handle it forward, we found that the tail wheel was damaged. Several of us bodily lifted it by the tail and turned the plane round enabling the Yanks to place a truck under this damaged wheel and tow it backwards down to the runway and so onto the apron. We could not have done much without the Yanks and the equipment they had been supplied with.

One of the most boring jobs was with the wing. We didn't call them wings, but main - planes. The wing was attached to the fuselage by a lot of nuts and bolts. The bolts were short and stubby, about half inch thick. The nuts contained fibre - "Simmonds nuts". When we took a wing off, we filled buckets with them. When we did maintenance work, these had to be inspected after the major number of hours had been flown. The fibre wore and allowed the nuts to loosen 鈥� there was a lot of vibration when flying.

Although I did not see this myself, I was told that a lone plane was shot down by "The Green Howards" whilst hedge hopping over our camp, not before he had machine gunned two of our R.A.F. lads, one named West, the other I cannot recall. As the army chaps didn't seem to own a shovel, which they wanted for burying the Jap pilot, Itashi Tamos, we did the job for them.

I mentioned earlier about the method of replacing "floor boards". I revert to this once again as it concerns one "Bill Harvey" who was to be my means of getting a watch home. I had been carrying a "Challenger" ladies watch about for ages - didn't fancy the idea of sending it. This Bill had been quite suddenly doing unusual things, one of them, of struggling with the "floor boards" differently and wrongly. Then he boiled our socks until they would not fit a two year old and finally he stooped too near a light when applying it to a rag soaked in "high octane spirit" and arose with half of his thin "Ronald Colman" moustache missing and a receding hairline, which he didn't have before, fluffy eye lashes and a damn sore face. He wasn't a hospital case, but with all this, and he was due to go home鈥�. He said that he had been one that had got away from Singapore and helped drive a few lorries into the sea but had to beat it, leaving lorries still being landed. We never knew Singapore had fallen.

Anyway, I got him to promise to deliver the watch to my home, 46 Fulbourne Road, Walthamstow, Essex, and let Mum know that I was okay, as no letters were getting through which seemed strange because Dakotas were dropping the forces newspaper, now and again - it was called SEAC (South East Asia Command). Under this command your money rose by a shilling a day - Japanese campaign money. When I got home Mum had the watch and a letter for me. He hadn't been to see her, had sent the watch with this letter. Sometimes, I wish I had kept the letter though there was not much in it. There were two photos in it, one of a mass grave of slaughtered people, the other of bodies on a railway truck and covered by a tarpaulin. He made not a single word of mention about these and stated that he had made me a life long member of the club and no mention of which club. All this made me think of his goings on with the work and the fire incident. He never gave his address either unfortunately, all I know is that he came from Ealing and said his grandfather was the maker of "Harvey's Rubber Soles" which I've never heard of, but maybe they existed.

Anyway he was another one that I lost contact with, which brings me to the point that I wish I had replied to an advert. George next door, gave me a newspaper that his sister gave him. It was really for old folk, I always meant to ask him what it was, though I never got round to it. It wanted anyone of 101,102 and 103 Repair and Salvage Units to go to a meeting, I can't think where it was now, but it was a fair distance away. Had I gone, I might have met up with some old mates, unless they didn't see the advert or did the same as me. Some towns have much better British Legions than round here do. Round here some have even closed down.

Now that the war was over, the Yanks started to show films in the open air on a big white screen, they told us to bring a box or stool and we could sit on the outskirts of their crowd and watch. This we did and we saw "The Song of Bernadette". Sometimes we could scarcely here the words for the croaking of frogs! . I should have pointed out the war was finished then.

One day a Dakota dropped in for minor repairs. Aboard were some lads going home, I asked them their group number, and it appeared by that that I should have already been on my way. Made us wonder if we had been forgotten. We knew, because word had filtered through, that the enemy were almost on their knees, and then one day a naval boat came pretty near the shore and Verey lights went up, like Guy Fawkes day, and everyone started cheering. The officer then came round and took all our sten guns. We wondered whether it was over a row he had with an engine fitter. Being not too many of us, it seemed a bit different, as though you could (if reaching rock bottom and not much discipline about) tell him to get stuffed. I feel this a bit over my own case, which I am going to explain now.

When I realised I should no longer be there, I was the oldest and had been in as long as most but not all, I started to get irritable. Also, which helped me, the officer disappeared soon after the sten guns. I didn't see the going of him. That left only a corporal, Ernie Yeatman, and as far as he went, the stripes meant nothing really, because he wasn't officious in the true sense of the word and we didn't take liberties. We may have been sorted out before we were put on the detachment.

Anyway the pilot of the plane was taking these lads to Agartala. His name was Gray and I had spoken to him before. I hadn't worked on any plane that he had piloted, but I had helped 鈥減igot鈥� (anchor plane to ground) one down. He had been to Agartala several times. Tackling Ernie first about trying to get back to Agartala, he agreed but said never in a million years would I get a lift, the pilot would never do it. I said I had done my stint and should be away, to which he said in the unlikelihood of that happening, he'd know nothing of it. So I tackled Gray and at first it was no go and seemed hopeless. But I said I knew the layout of the camp at Agartala and if he dropped me on the landing site, I could put my trunk in the undergrowth and make my way back to the basha that I was in before. Then in the morning I could go back there and unearth my trunk, sit on it and wait for the truck that would come from the airstrip with the lads who had been on guard there through the night. The domestic site was a good way from the planes.

On promising not to say who brought me back he agreed. There were other planes bringing lads back and they would have a job sorting out which one landed me at Ramree. After all, I should be on my way home and my thoughts were at that time with a wife waiting for me, let them do their worst. With not too much authority about I thought no one鈥檚 keeping me here. With no one really to answer to, I felt more confident than perhaps I should have.

Once Gray agreed, he started hustling me and I never had time to say cheerio to my mates, who were distributed about. Ernie helped me grab my bits and pieces and then it was goodbye Kyauk Pyu. On landing I thanked Pilot Officer Gray, good bloke, and got my trunk and hid it in the undergrowth and then made my way back to camp. There were two chaps in the basha that I knew; the basha did not have its full complement of sixteen men. Having arrived back, my cockiness, if you could call it that, and my attitude of no one鈥檚 keeping me here, wore off. I'd got to face up to someone with real authority, loads of rings round his sleeve and loads of scrambled egg on his cap. My feet got a bit cold and I hung about the site all day and didn't go down to the Officers鈥� quarters where I knew I should report. A duty officer came round to inspect the bashas, but I was on the look out for him and took appropriate cover. In the evening when the lads came back, one of them that I knew worked in the disciplinary office and he remarked that I hadn't been seen by him and he had looked out for me. On telling him that I hadn't reported, he said that the longer I left it, the worse it would be. This I knew, you know how it is!

Next morning, I pulled myself together, got in the frame of mind of, to hell with what can they do, went to the C.O's. office and knocked on the door. At the come in and who did I want, I blurted out "Crisp, reporting back from Ramree, Sir! I couldn't believe it, no questions, no grilling, just a "I suppose you want leave!" What does a bloke do? Certainly postpone his troubles, if only for fourteen days. So, 鈥淵es please sir鈥� and three bags full. He said there was no technical work as the unit was off to Singapore.

On leaving the office I thought, 鈥渢hat was weak kneed鈥�, I want to go home not on leave. So I went back and told him of my group number and that I should have been long gone. He was on my side but said it would take a while to sort out and in the meantime, report to Sergeant White in the stores for a job and he would meanwhile get me sorted out as to papers and a travelling warrant and I was to enjoy my leave. On reporting to stores, unofficially I helped lads who were passing through, all with papers for going home. You see they had a stall outside the stores, a building with a doorway at each end. At this stall sat the Sergeant White. There was a list of all a chap should have. As Sergeant White called out the names the bloke had to lay the articles on the stall. Anything he didn't have he had to pay for. As the things on the stall piled up, I had to take them off and into the store. On getting down near the opposite door to the sergeant, the lads in the queue who were not in earshot of the Sergeant, were quietly calling out for help for what they were short of. Little things like a knife, a lanyard, a piece of webbing equipment and if I could I saved them a few bob. I've never been so popular as in that couple of hours.

The next day the stuff was packed in wooden cases and I had a painting job on these. A big blue square and when it was dry, the unit and R.A.F. Singapore, in white letters, was down to my paint brush. I didn't finish all of them, as my leave was sorted out. I went with another fellow Ted Eales. We put up at "Toc H" which seemed something on par with a Y.M.C.A. We had to report each day to an army place, a museum that had been taken over, to see if our papers for home had arrived at Agartala. We got the fourteen days in with no sign of that.

While standing by the curb in Calcutta, which, by the way, was the place of leave, a small procession of men and one boy, who was skipping about and banging that small triangular piece of metal, sometimes seen in a band, went past us. They had lighted fireworks, the sparks of one went down my collar and made me jump. The thing to catch the eye, more than the fireworks, was an effigy of a coloured man with his foot on the chest of a fallen white. My mate suggested we beat it pronto, or we would be in trouble (killed). It wasn't a huge thing, but four men were carrying it. We made our way back to the "Toc H".

The next day we bought an English printed newspaper, the "Statesman", and saw that Army and Air Force lorries and vans had been overturned and burnt and that two A.T.S. girls had been killed on a train. So many of those that you walked among were far from friendly; who was and who wasn't? We had our fourteen days though and then returned to camp. The other lad of the two I knew, both Scotsmen, told me to put my name in the barrel that was full of names to be drawn for a long weekend on a tea plantation. It was their way of saying thanks to the lads. Some one had done a miniature "Ernie", the saving bonds thing. I, at first, refused, as in my view having just had leave and going home soon, I thought it only fair to leave it to others. There were plenty in the same situation as me and their names had gone in, and don't be a twerp, I was told. Thus under terrific pressure (liar) I put my name in. Boy!, had my luck changed these last few weeks. A couple of twirls of the barrel and in his hand was one bearing the name of Crisp. I expect about twenty were drawn. There was only one thing that stopped my luck running the full course and that was, at the end every one, except my companion and I, got two boxes of tea, the boxes being about 6" all round. It happened thus.

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