Oh! Calcutta
The journey to Calcutta took four days and we did not get off the train. It was about one thousand two hundred miles. I remember that I commandeered a large tin of beetroot that I kept under the seat.
We were issued with wheat-crackers and I used to get out the tin and fork out a beetroot to eat with them. I was quite upset because as we left one station, a small boy ran alongside the train for quite a distance, in the hope that I would throw him a biscuit and I couldn't.
We went through Nagpur -- about half-way. Every time that the train came to an incline, the engine would conk out, we would wait about twenty minutes while it belched out plumes of black smoke and when it had got up steam again, we would proceed.
When I arrived at Calcutta, I was drafted onto a civilian maintenance unit, No.4 C.M.U. at Dum-Dum. It was a very strange posting. Dum-Dum was an aerodrome used by U.S. transport aircraft.
Dakotas would fly daily six- hour trips ‘over the hump’ to Chungking, carrying vital supplies to China.
Also on the site were two hangars and these belonged to the
Tata Aircraft Company. Inside, civilians were rebuilding Spitfire wreckage. In one corner of the yard there was a selection of old Spitfire wings and fuselages. In the other hangar they were reconditioning Rolls-Royce Merlin engines.
There was a sort of production line going, but for various reasons each rebuild proceeded at a different rate. I did not really know what I was supposed to do, the Indians worked on the aircraft. I did fit a rudder one day, although I was an engine-fitter.
There was an Indian AID inspector (Air Inspection Directorate). He asked me for advice continuously, that was fair enough,though he was supposed to know all these things.
I said earlier that I thought my examination after the fitter’s-course was a ‘fix’. If I had got 80% I would automatically have been made a corporal instructor, but they did not want any more instructors, so I was given 78%.
I was still top of the Entry and this could be why I was sent to 4 C.M.U.. I could look after the R.A.F’s interests, check the quality of the work and watch for any faults.
There was also an airframe-fitter and when the wings had to be joined to the fuselage he would ream the bolt-holes and fit the tapered-bolts himself, because it was so important.
Coolies sat in the shade of the hangar-doors, but would come in to lift the wings when required. When the aircraft were pushed out onto the tarmac, I would give them a very thorough inspection and I would list all the things that were faulty. I would not sign for them until they had been corrected.
There were several aircraft out on the tarmac waiting to be put right. The ignition-harness was connected to the wrong plugs on one engine. There was a crossed olive (??) in the pipework of another.
I was not very popular, but our pilots would have to fly them. (In conversation, Dad told me he came under intense pressure to pass crap aeroplanes as serviceable. He knew they were desperately needed, but he refused to compromise on safety.)
The camp where we lived was across the main road from the hangars. There were a few ‘bashas’ just like the ones in, ‘It Ain’t Half Hot, Mum’, on the TV. They were beside two rather stagnant ponds and some palm trees.
We had wooden-framed beds with sisal-string woven across, they were called ‘charpoys’. We also had mosquito-nets to sleep under; there were little harmless geckos that lived on the walls; they ate any insects that were about.
The inside of the hut was always clean and tidy, there was a sweeper who came round regularly. The ‘dhobi wallah’ took our clothes to be washed; the ‘char wallah’ brought his urn round with morning tea. The ‘moochi’ mended our shoes. There was a little cookhouse where the ‘babu’ would fry eggs and put them in a bread-roll for our supper when we came back at night. We were always smartly dressed in khaki-drill trousers and a khaki-drill
jacket despite the heat of the day.
The main road outside went down to Calcutta. There were always huge carts, heavily laden with jute and drawn by two oxen, proceeding slowly down the road to the mills. Anywhere where an animal had died by the roadside, a great cluster of vultures would spend several days devouring it.
About two hundred yards down the road were the H.M.V. recording studios. Several of us were allowed to play there in the evening. There was sheet-music and instruments. We formed a small orchestra and the C.O. supported us. Luckily, the studio was heavily soundproofed with thick red velvet curtains! We always cleared up very carefully and always said ‘goodnight’ and
‘thanks’, to the ‘chokidar’, when he locked up.
On my day off, I would go down into Calcutta, I used to walk along the main street, known as Chowringee, go into Firpo’s restaurant and have a large glass of lemonade with a ball of ice-cream in it. It was heaven!
I also went to the art-shop round the corner in Dhurumtolla St., I bought a sketch-book and pencils there and later used them! (Quite a few of Dad's sketches have survived, they haven't been scanned yet.)
Trams carried people up and down the road, all hanging on where possible, there were rickshaws, crowds and traffic, it was chaos. On the other side was a park and to the right there were Government buildings. There was a plaque on the wall at the site of the ‘Black Hole of Calcutta’. I also visited the Botanical Gardens. They were on the other side of the Hoogly river.
A ferry-boat went down the river, there was a landing-stage at the gardens. There they had the largest banyan tree in the world. It covered about two hundred square yards.
Although we always ate thick-skinned fruit and washed it in ‘pinki pani’, (that was permanganate of potash crystals dissolved in water), I caught dysentry. I was sent to the 47 Indian General Hospital in Calcutta. There I had to have a rather undignified examination and I was then put on a medicine
containing bismuth and iodine.
After about a fortnight, things improved and I was sent for convalescence to the Loretto Convent. When I ultimately returned to 4 C.M.U. I discovered that in my absence I had been posted to 124 R.S.U. (Repair and Salvage Unit) at Imphal.
It did not bother me excessively. I would not liked to have stayed at Dum-Dum for a long while although it was an interesting experience.