Sometime in April 1942: The first thing we did on landing in Bombay was to hand in our "Bombay Bowlers" which we had protected with such tender care during the voyage in exchange for a rather mundane but more practical Pith Helmet.................typical of the times.
It was also the time when I discovered to some extent why I was there in the first place. RADAR was at this time still a hush hush subject and units were disguised under the somewhat ambiguous title of A.M.E.S's (Air Ministry Experimental Stations) and lo, I was a member of one of these. Forget the number unfortunately and I can't remember how many of us there were either, but we were loaded onto a troop train, wooden slatted seats and damned uncomfortable as I recall and transported over what must have been at least three days to Asansol in Bengal. Why I never knew and still don't but it was a dusty remote tented Airfield with Brstol Blenheims and also I remember vividly with good reason which I shall explain later, a Wellington Bomber jacked up on blocks. On arrival at the bedding store we were issued with five blankets. With the temperature somewhere near the hundreds we asked the obvious question.You'll find out said the storeman...........we did. With humidity non existant when the sun went down so did the temperature. There was ice on the water chatties in the morning but by eleven o'clock it was too hot for the guys to work on the aircraft..
Not much to do really, just the odd guard duty is all really remember, but we were there in time to experience the "Bengal Cyclone " of 1942.
It was a very hot sultry day, not a breath of wind but dull and heavy. I think it was about mid morning when I noticed what seemed to be a huge wall of cloud stretching from horizon to horizon and filling the sky. It became darker and darker and suddenly we were hit by a tremendous wind and blinding dust.
Tents were taking off and all was chaos. As I lay on the ground hanging on for dear life to my tent, I saw Blenheim aircraft rolling down the runway at the mercy of the wind. Pilots had left the brakes off. The Wellington, up on its chocks had a hole blown right through its fabric side such was the force of the wind. Must have been something like an hour before things calmed down and we could survey the wreckage. It wasn't until much later that we heard that 10,000 Indians had been killed by the cyclone. My first experience of tropical weather
Not many photos from this time I'm afraid. Just this one to break uo the dialogue..
Ron Pembury, Flt/Sgt Davis and Babu the lttle' un..................Anyway, it wasn't long before we were on the move again. Quite a long train rid and we again are talking days here, but I seem to remember it being a little more civilised with meals being arranged at stops on the way. Now I know I'm talking to very few who will remember but for those who do, Spencers Resteraunts will ring a bell. Every station of any importance had one. The Indian equivalent of Lyons I suppose.
Cochin: Eventually we arrived at what turned out to be our ultimate destination, at least for this paticular A.M.E.S., Cochin. Beautiful:
We shared accomodation with No1 I.A.F. Squadron on Willingdon Island.(Indian Air Force) while the Radar Station was being built on Grubbs Island, another island in the bay.
A beautiful place to be with the town of Ernakulum across the bay on the mainland............Some War.
As for myself, I had little to do until the stationrwas built so spent my time under Sgt. Carneras in the Signals Section of the Indian Squdron. They were flying Westland Wapitis and they also had a DH 86, Airliner doing antisubmarine patrols........... Yes Really!!!!!!!!!
Westland Wapiti:
I'm pretty sure that what I'm doing here is, as the saying goes, 'pissin' in the wind' but I'll tell it any way. Sarge came up to me one morning and said," like to do a radio airtest" in a Wapiti. Well! what could one say? so me and this handsome bearded Indian pilot climb aboard and off we go. At a couple of thousand feet I wind out the trailing aerial (Who remembers a trailing aerial?') about twenty feet of wire with a bead weight on the end, look at the TRF receiver one of which I'd never seen, twiddle a couple of knobs, hammer out a couple of dots and dashes, receive nothing, wind the aerial back in and tap the Pilot on the head with a thumbs down. He turns round, grins, gives me a 'thumbs up' whacks the stick over and proceeds to 'buzz' his own house and missus below. Jesus, I thought the wings were going to come off. Me breakfast came up all over the cockpit and I could have died on the spot as this idiot man cavorted all over the sky. With hindsight it was terrific, after all not many folk alive today have flown in a Wapiti. Cherished memory.
It cost me one rupee (about 1/6d) for being sick in the aircraft and sad to say, it was not long before all the Wapitis had pranged at the cost of some lives.
Sorry the Map is a bit blurred but it is the best I could find.
Went to a local wedding at the Church above. Indian Christians. Got totally smashed on Toddy and Arak but I think I had a great time. The Indian Airforce kept a very high standard. Unlike us they had a Corporals Mess to which I was invited several times. Being only a humble LAC didn't seem to bother them. Corporals with names like Roy and Dasgupta seem to come from quite high class families. Names that frequently appear in high ranking Indian circles today.
However, my tenure at this paradise wasn't destined to last too long. In fact it was decided by some kind Angel in Air Ministry that I should be posted to another Paradise..............the war gets even better.