Danny, I recall you saying Arthur (left) was lucky to get his own jeep. I daresay I was wrong and it was just one from the motor pool at Kumbhirgram. He did, however, have the occasion to use one 'in anger'. He wrote:
'Late one evening, during the Burma campaign, I was sitting in my office, finishing administrative chores, when the phone rang. It was the CO of the local RAF MFH (Mobile Field Hospital) who asked if I could help out. He'd had to send one of his Princess Mary's Nursing Service Sisters out to a tea planter's home to help manage a difficult birth. His staff were flat out, dealing with casualties, and he needed her back on duty. Could I get someone to pick her up? I promised to do what I could and phoned the MT Section. No reply. (The duty driver had, in fact, gone to collect his late supper.)
It was now past midnight, everyone was in bed, and I had been up since 0415... indeed I had flown two operations that day. Worse, there was another op. pending, scheduled for dawn take-off. Outside it was pouring torrentially, but the only option was to jump into the car outside and provide the taxi-service myself. I knew where the Planter's house was, having been there before. I duly arrived, car slewing through deep and sizable puddles, and the Sister jumped in. Because of the road conditions, I thought it better to try a different route back. One that should take me through the plantation and around the airfield perimeter. Five minutes later the car was well and truly embedded in thick, oozing mud. I'd driven straight into a rice paddy field! The wheels, of course, spun to no effect. I told the Sister to sit tight and I'd be back as soon as possible. There then followed a miserable and very wet walk back to camp, whereupon I picked up a jeep and returned to pick up Sister, who had been waiting anxiously for an hour.
By the time I crawled into bed, it was almost time to get up. Mercifully, the elements gave me a break and the morning's operation was cancelled due to the impossible conditions (though in the afternoon it cleared and we were able to get airborne).
After the war, I met the same Sister at the Burma Reunion, held in the Albert Hall. She touched me on the arm and proposed that I remove my shoes and socks. She wanted me to prove that, after that torrential night years before, I hadn't grown aquatic, webbed feet. I invited her to feel free, but of course, the occasion wouldn't allow.'