Our stay in India was not very long, a matter of a couple of weeks or so
but long enough to give us a feel for the country. Under the British Raj
there didn't seem to be much evidence of the inter-religious hostility
that would result in such a blood bath at Independence and partition in
1948. Political struggle there was and some anti-British sentiment but
it didn't seem pervasive to us. Little booklets were issued to us that
outlined the history and customs of India, (the term India was
all-inclusive in those days, both Hindu and Moslem) and listed
population densities together with a glossary of useful words and
phrases. Other words and phrases not in the booklet we picked up from
contact with the older and more experienced soldiers. At that time we
also learned that the Indian Army was entirely separate from the
British, with its own Viceroy commissioned officers whom we did not have
to salute, and the ranks of Subahdar, Jemadar and Havildar were added to
our vocabularies. During our short stay draft RDGFA suffered its first
casualty, Cfn Love was whisked off to hospital and later succumbed to a
brain tumour.
Our accommodation was in long huts that in memory appeared to be
permanent; we found the charpoys quite comfortable and the bell-shaped
mosquito nets that dangled from the ceiling gave us uninterrupted
nights. Food was sufficient, plenty of rice in various guises and
frequent curries that despite the warm weather seemed to cool one
down. There was also the usual NAAFI store and fresh fruit could be
purchased daily.
Too soon the time came to move on and we rejoined HMT Aronda; we got
aboard and were assigned our places, immediately I was given some task
to perform, I forget what but while I was so engaged the stores were
opened and everyone drew hammocks; by the time I had finished the stores
had closed. Ah, well, I was now used to roughing it so I elected to
sleep on the bench seat of a mess table, a plank about one foot wide;
again my life-jacket became my pillow and I slept like a babe. I never
did draw my hammock.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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