My first few months in the Far East from February to July 1945 took me from Bombay, via Chindwwarrah,Calcutta and Comilla to Chittagong in East Bengal (as it was known in 1945) where I joined my very first permanent Army unit-“Y”L of C. (Line of Communication) Signals, Indian Army.
All previous postings had been to units for training or transit, including those in the U.K.“Y” L of C was a vital Army Signals communications centre, between H.Q. s in India and active units in the field in Burma, Siam etc. using wireless, teleprinters, telephones etc.
As the war progressed it was expected that “Y” would be part of the invasion force for the island of Singapore, but the bombs were dropped in early August on Hiroshima and Hagasaki, and the role of “Y” L of C Signals changed from invasion to occupation.
By March 1946 the unit, comprising mainly of Indian Signals troops with a small number of Royal Signals personnel, was wellestablished in an abandoned rubber plantation in Kranji, an area in the north of the island , near the Johore Causeway , used by the Japanese the unit had no real Signals role in the occupation, in fact I don’t think we even had any communication equipment , and all our energy was spent in organising the return of the Indian troops to their homeland , and the departure of the British Contingent back to the U.K. for demobilisation, and return to civilian life.
At least one of H.Q. was not returning to the U.K.He had been a tea planter in Malaya, and it was his intention to return there and try to pick up the threads of his pre war life and re-occupy his home if it still existed most unlikely.
So we spent a quiet peaceful time in our tents or relaxing in our armchairs in the sun, or in the evening in our big mess tent with the radio, dart board a few items of furniture, a picture of Betty Garble pinned to the tent pole, and not much else.
Demobilisation was the main subject of thought and conversation, with occasional visits by Army truck to the city of Singapore, and one memorable trip across the Johore Causeway to the local cinema to see “State Fair”, with Dick Haymes a wonderful experience for we film fans in early 1946.
Even so still being an army unit, certain official duties still had to be carried out, including the formality of having an Orderly Officer detailed each day, with one duty being to mount the guard every evening. I remember one such occasion when I forgot I was on duty, so very belatedly rushed out to mount the guard with no cap or beret, and wearing my chaplis (Indian sandals) after all the war was over.
A much more memorable incident happened again when I was Orderly Officer; the evening passed as usual in our big Mess Tent, with a meal, the inevitable wireless. All Indian Radio and Radio S.E.A.C., Ceylon and darts, after such energetic activity, I retired to my own tent, and was soon asleep.
In the early hours of the morning I was woken by very loud whispering from the tent opening, “Sahib” “Sahib”“what a cheek” I thought, “waking me up in the middle of the night” I turned over and pretended to be asleep.
Silence for a few minutes, then again “Sahib” Sahib” a bit stronger this time.
I closed my eyes even tighter.
Another few minutes when a voice became louder and change to “Sahib, Sahib the Mess Tent is on fire! I felt this was time, as Orderly Officer, to get out of my charpoy (bed), and investigate the incident, which the member of the guard had been attempting to bring to my notice.
I thought, this must be a false alarm, nothing happens in Kranji Camp these days. As I peered through my tent opening, I could see the red glow from the top of our huge Mess Tent.
And the glow outlined the frantic figure of the Indian sepoy gesticulating and pointing to the top of the tent.
By this time the canvas was well alight and the tent was beyond saving.
My thoughts naturally turned to Betty Grable, the dart board and the wireless, in that order. And in that order those valuable possessions were removed from the blazing tent along with most of the furniture before the whole buring tent crashed to the ground, amongst a shower of sparks.
By the following evening our new Mess tent was in position, the tables laid for our meal and Betty Grable and the dart board duly nailed to the appropriate tent poles.
The member of the guard was not blamed; he had been unable to wake the Orderly Officer after a tiring day on duty.
The culprit was the bank of batteries which we had to use for our supply of electricity, there being no mains supply in the middle of a rubber plantation.
The guard had noticed a red spot creeping along the cable stretchedfrom the top ofone tent pole to the other, and realising that a short was causing the wires to become red hot, he did the right thing by attempting to alert the Orderly Officer, who apparently could not be woke up.
Ah well! The Army had plenty of tents to spare in Singapore most of the occupation troops were billeted in palatial houses and hotels, vacated by the Japanese forces on surrender. Did I hear someone calling “Sahib, Sahib” or was I dreaming? only I will ever know.
