Walter,
...These were in a shocking state and looked as though they had contained a horde of wild pigs...
An opprtunity for you to set your "humble and submissive" prisoners to work, I would have thought !
...I found a job with the office staff typing...
Never wise to disclose that you have a particular (and useful) skill. Classic case: "
Anyone able to play a piano ?"........"Right, come with me, we want you to move the NAAFI piano to Stores !"
...with determination we were able to prise apart the bars of one window, large enough for us to climb out, up the side of the concreted, moat-like surround and merge with some passers-by in the street. We were then soon on our way westwards....
The homing instinct is very strong !
...gave us their beds in a commandeered German home...
EXtract from my Post p.139 #2777:
...What made no sense at all, was that they were also to leave the pilots with us for the rest of the night after they got back after midnight. (They'd only need a 15 cwt truck to pick them all up, and it was only a two-mile trip back to their bashas in Chittagong.....Why ?) And we had no spare accomodation - we'd have to "double-bunk"; there was only one charpoy per head. People would have to sleep on the floor.
To cut a long story short, after a short struggle with my conscience, noblesse oblige-d; my chap could have my de-luxe DIY bed (Mk.2); I would kip on the woven palm matting floor. The bearer made up my bed for the stranger, I found a spare mossie net, wrapped it round me and settled down, trying not to think of the "long-leggity beasties" of the night.
My houseguest came in about 0100, and lit the hurricane lamp. "How did you get on?".........."I gave Akyab a 'jao' - Akyab gave me a 'jao' ". I deduced that there had been an inconclusive exchange of fire, but little more. He was very grateful for the bed, I struggled off to sleep in a warm glow of quixotic nobility (didn't last).
...Those Yankee boys certainly treated us well. We had an orange, cereal with milk, eggs, bacon, white bread and butter and coffee for breakfast. A prisoner's dream of home!..
Not only prisoners !... I still recall our first Canadian meals in 1941 after arriving there from severly rationed Britain.
...the Colonel promised us that we would be on our way home the next day.,,
But this time it was true - after so many vicissitudes !
...I said, "I'm a Flying Officer." "Blimey", he replied, "you nearly made yourself an Air Commodore, didn’t you?"...
Extract from my Post p.133 #2649:
...Now a F/O's rank braid is 5/16 in wide. An Indian braid weaver somewhere made a mistake, and set up his loom for 7/16. They ran off a hundred yards or so before the error was discovered. No use good stuff going to waste. Put it on the market, don't suppose it will make much difference to the customer.
They were right ! Our friend appeared with a pair of these massive stripes on his shoulders. He was mockingly congratulated on his promotion to Air Commodore. His cuffs soon joined the pretty wings in the bin, to general amusement. Luckily he was a resilient character, and endured the ribbing with good grace...
...missed the last tram back, and had to walk all the way...
Ah, those carless days just postwar, when this often happened after you'd said 'goodnight' on her doorstep !
Whew ! - enjoy your leave. Walter - with all that lovely dosh in the bank !
Danny.