Extra Title: The Deep Trench Latrine.
NigG,
...:-D I did come up with a somewhat marginal follow-on, but then my Inner Child was grasped by the scruff of the neck by my Inner Moderator and was given a glimpse of 'the place that is forever damnation'...
My usual practice has been to refer readers to the Page (153) and Post (#3047) on the "Pilot's Brevet" Thread of any relevant reference of mine in this matter, but it occurs to me that, having done the "heavy lifting" of tracing it, I might as well copy 'n paste an excerpt from it for you to enjoy (?)
Without more ado, I append as an example # of what our ever-tolerant, kindly Moderators have already stomached, and I'm sure your Inner Moderator would show equal latitude to your "marginal" follow-on, if tastefully presented.
Danny.
Note # : one significant word has been changed in the original text, wannabe Sherlock Holmeses may be amused looking for it !
************
In response to a total lack of interest in the subject, but having a while back promised an article on this indelicate (but quite essential) component of our daily life in the forward areas now behind us, here is my recollection - (and those who remember Louis de Bernières' novel: "
Captain Corelli's Mandolin" may remember a similar, amusing description of Italian troops).
I cannot do better by way of description than to recount an enduring sad tale that I must have heard a score of times - but never with exact details of time or place - (I believe it was current in the Middle East, too).
First, to set the stage: In a
basha is dug a narrow trench, straddled by a long narrow timber box, This has an open bottom and is provided with a row of suitable holes on top. There are no doors or partitions - such civilised conventions have long been discarded in our life at the sharp end.*
Of course the normal military distinctions still had to be observed: separate DTLs for Officers and ORs (British), another set (of modified design) for the Indian Officers and ranks. (How did they manage with the Muslim/Hindu divide, and the Caste problems with the latter ? - No idea - Anglo-Indians ? I think they counted as British for this purpose.
Consequently, these places hosted convivial gatherings. Here was a forum for the discussion of important military matters; the latest rumours were disseminated (hence the term: "Latrinogram"), and the topics of the day given a good airing (no pun intended). Hinged lids were provided to try to abate the fly nuisance. Pretty well every visitor (even non-smokers) took a cigarette in with him (as a deodoriser - now you can see the advantage to "Stew" Mobsby of losing his sense of smell !) It was forbidden to throw a lighted butt down the hole, but there was always someone who forgot.
Our hero was one such. He picked himself up some fifty feet away, with a badly scorched bottom, surrounded with shattered timbers and covered all over with - well, not exactly with "sweet violets" ! He was not alone, his companions (in a like state) were not well pleased with him, and were making the fact loudly and abundantly clear. The "
netty", "
dunny", call it what you will, had (to use a common expression in "
babu" English): "
Gone from that place".
What had happened ? Methane in the trench had built up to the point where, mingled with air, it had reached the "
stoichiometric ratio" at which the mixture became explosive. The dog-end provided the detonator.
Is the story true ? Well, it could have happened, couldn't it ?
Note *: And not only at the sharp end. In the Basic and Advanced flying schools of the US Army Air Corps (which were 100% military units), I recall the same companiable arrangement with rows of gleaming mahogany and porcelain thrones in the washrooms (so there was no chance of a quiet break with cigarette and newspaper). Primary Schools were basically civilian-run: more customary standards prevailed there).
I promise you that is my last word on the subject.
Goodnight once more,
Danny42C
Ah, well.