Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II

[Danny42C]

Danny enjoys (?) rail travel in India.

We spent so much of our time on trains that it is worth while examining them closely. The rail network was one of the three great legacies left by the Raj to the Republics of India and Pakistan (the other two are the English language and cricket). IIRC, there were at least four classes of travel.

A King's commisioned officer (British or Indian), and the rare civilian who could afford it, travelled first-class. The self- contained compartment (for four) was the width of the carriage (bigger, and on a much broader gauge than in UK). It had an upper and lower berth on each side (on which you unrolled your bedroll at night), electric roof fans, and a primitive toilet (no worse than those at home) cum shower room ensuite. There were also a few two-berth coupés: these were generally reserved for ladies travelling alone.

Windows opened to let in smoke and dust. They had louvred shutters to keep out the sun, marauding monkeys and thieves, and I seem to remember a sort of mesh screen to keep out insects, but I'm not sure about that. All your baggage went into the compartment with you, and at halts you watched it like a hawk.

Second class was earmarked for B.O.R.s and Viceroy's Commissioned Officers (this was a class of the Indian Army, above NCO rank but below the King's Commission). Again, anyone who could afford a ticket (half the price of first class) could, in theory travel. But even second-class fares were so high in Indian terms (and third and fourth so low) as to ensure few takers.

As I recall, the second-class compartment was on the same plan, but slightly smaller than the first, and had more spartan upholstery. Really, it was a much better bargain then the first if you were paying for it yourself. Third and fourth were open-plan carriages; third may have had some upholstery but fourth was bare wood. Toilet facilities were of local pattern: hole-in-floor or al fresco at stops.

EDIT: Any observer of Indian trains of that (or even a much later) era will have noted the existence of a sort of "extra mural" or parasite class of traveller, attached to the sides of, standing on the buffers of, or perched on the roofs of the carriages. It's possible that these might have bought 4th class tickets and been unable to force themselves into the crowded carriage, but I doubt it.

There must have been some sort of financial accomodation with someone, I would have thought. Of course, on the approach to and leaving stations in smaller towns, the (often single) line would run through the bustee (slum) parts of town, the train ambling along at walking pace, blowing the whistle and clanging its bell through a narrow lane hardly wide enough to allow passage, and essentially pushing its way through the crowded traffic of people and children, animals and every kind of vehicle.

Luckily the all had "cowcatchers" in front, but even so it looked horribly dangerous. At these times, any reasonably agile person could leap up, find a foot and handhold, and hang on, or climb onto the roof. What happened when the train came to a tunnel ? Don't know, don't like to think !
'Elf 'n Safety ? Forget it !.........D.

Stops were frequent. Trains were never in any hurry. You must remember that India is the size of all Europe (excluding continential Russia). It doesn't look it on a map, but that is a quirk of Mercator's projection. A trip of 1500 miles is common, and that might take four days. (My record was 16 days, but that was on a "special"). So you settled down and made the best of it.

Air conditioning was far in the future, but I think I've mentioned the block-of-ice substitute available only on the major inter-city lines. For a rupee or so, you could get a maund (73 lb block, therefore seven gallons) of ice in a deeply lipped galvanised tray. You closed all windows, and shutters to keep out sunlight, ran the roof fans full bore trained on the ice (set on the floor between the bunks). This gave you several hours of welcome cooling, but as the humidity grew steadily worse in the pre-monsoon months, condensation was then a problem.

Meals on main lines were a very civilised affair. At a stop an hour or so before lunch or dinner, the guard would come round and take orders (the menu was pot-luck, always curried something). He'd then telegraph them to the next stop forty miles or so down the line. When you got there the meal was ready for you in the station dining room. The train would wait for you while you ate it. I can never remember being rushed, how they managed to run a railway on time I'll never know.

Tea was on tap every time the train stopped. The ubiquitous char-wallah (with throw-away clay cups) was on every platform, where all facilities were segregated; first and second class dining rooms, separate toilets for Mahommedans and Hindus, the list was endless.

There was never any point in timetable planning, it was more like hitch-hiking. You took the first train going roughly in your direction, stayed on it as long as it did so, hopped off and repeated the process. Your bedroll travelled with you, so you could overnight anywhere en route, and stop a few days if you found anything of interest. (There was no problem about breaking your journey at any point). Your late appearances were never questioned, for you would always arrive before your paperwork, and get the "who-the-Devil-are-you-and-what- have-you-come-for ?" greeting familiar to all servicemen.

I can never recall any kind of ticket inspector on any train I was on. It was rather like Tube travel - or at least as Tube travel was in my time - in that once you were aboard, you could travel round the system all day, provided you eventually got off at the right station you were ticketed to.

Luggage handling was never a problem, you were besieged by platform "bearers" every time you stepped out of your compartment. The "official" ones wore a brass numbered arm (or was it on "puggaree" - headband - ?) badge, but they had to fight for your custom against a horde of unofficial ones.

Deceptively frail in appearance, they could all hoist enormous loads on their heads and then set off on their spindly legs at such a cracking pace through the crowds that the Sahib could hardly keep pace with them (if your man were one of the "unofficial" brigade, it was vital to do so, or you might never see him - or your kit again).

Out of the station, the load was usually too much for a manned rickshaw, unless you had little more than hand luggage and your hotel or whatever was fairly close. Otherwise it would be a taxi or a tonga. The taxis had taximeters, but it was always "broken, Sahib", your fare in taxi or tonga was a matter of negotiation before you climbed in.

The taxi was quicker (but more hazardous), the tonga slower but safer. On arrival, there would always be a spirited attempt to renegotiate the contract, heart-breaking compassionate grounds would be prayed in aid, particularly if the fare and his luggage and bedroll looked suspiciously new to India. Counter-accusations of "loose-wallah" (thief), and reference to the nearest Police Post, usually ended the discussion.

If you were lucky enough to be going up to the hills for the hot months, you had to change at some point from the broad-gauge (5ft 6in) main line to one of the narrow-gauge ( 1-metre or the even smaller 2ft "toy train") hill railways. Most of their locos were built with centre cogwheels to engage with racks between the lines on steeper sections.

At some places (Darjeeling was one, I think) the gradients were too severe even for a rack railway. The ingenious solution was the "switch-back" layout. The line was built as a wide, shallow zig-zag in traverse up the mountainside. At the end of each traverse there was a level stretch; here the train was halted, the points switched and the train reversed up the next section of the climb to the next level at the end. Then it moved forward .......and so on. Naturally, this had to be a single-track operation.

It is difficult to exaggerate the skill and daring of the old Victorian and Edwardian railway engineers who built those railways. The bridges, culverts, cuttings and tunnels which had to be designed to carry the line through jungle and pinewood forests up the steep mountain ridges were marvels of conception and construction. Many of them must be a hundred years and more old now, and I would wager they are mostly standing as solidly, and working as well as ever they did.

Of course in my time Indian railways were all steam hauled, except for local city commuter electric services, and I think it was long after the war before diesel-hydraulic or diesel-electric finally took over the haulage of main line trains.

As far as I can remember, there were a number of separate railway companies serving various parts of the country (just as in Britain, where they were only nationalised as British Railways some time after the war). I think the new Governments of India and Pakistan took their lines under State control immediately after Independence.

Back to Cannanore next time,

Goodnight, all,

Danny42C.


Ain't no one here but us chickens!