MY BROTHER HUGH Born 5th October 1920 died 9th May 2006
clueless Doctor fresh from the UK. He refused to give me quinine and I relapsed into a delirium, with headaches that were like knives in their piercing effect. I really was at the end of my tether and so in desperation I finally I crawled to the sister’s room at the end of the ward around midnight and grabbed the bottle of quinine off the shelf and ate goodness knows how many before collapsing on the floor and passing out. Next morning I awoke and no temperature and now the MO put me on an efficient regime which cured me. I really think that if I had not made the effort and pinched those tablets I would have died like so many others.
After my spell at Belgaum I was sent to Ahmednagar to learn about heavy armoured vehicles and tanks and it was here that I got a full training in learning how to strip an internal combustion engine to bits and re – build it. It was a skill that has been most useful for the rest of my life, particularly in the bush in Africa, miles from anywhere. It was while I was Ahmednagar that I made friends with a South African called Jan Smith. He too had been at Begaum and shared a room with a chap who one day came back drunk late at night and was creating an uproar. Jan swore that he would never ever speak to him again. The man owed Jan a few rupees and he placed them on Jan’s side of the dressing table, for Jan to pick up his boot and pass it back saying he did not want any of his filthy money.
So at Ahmednagar I was asked if I minded sharing with him and I said I had no objections. He was an enormous man as strong as a horse but quiet, stubborn, proud and quite fearless, but also big-hearted and a sense of pity. There were not many like Jan! One day in an argument I proved him wrong and he went into a sulk and he started “I’ll never speak to you again “ stunt. I filled a big sponge full of water and threw it in his face and said as he spluttered;
“Now are we going to be friends? Or do you want to beat me up, as you are twice my size, if so go ahead”
He looked at me for a moment and then roared with laughter. This sealed our friendship. After commissioning Jan was put in a squadron commanded by an Indian Officer. One day in the mess having a quiet drink with a chum, when in burst the Sqd. Commander who flung a newspaper in front of him with a report of Indian trouble in Durban: “Read that you dirty South African swine “
Jan slowly put his beer down and knocked the Officer cold. Then he grabbed one foot and pulled him outside and came back not in the least put out.
“Now as I was saying before being interrupted……”
We trained all over central India and our corps consisted of North Indian martial types, Rajputs and Sikhs who were most intelligent and respectful if treated right. I became fluent in Urdu and had to get used to many of their customs such as their love of cock-fighting. A cruel sport, but it is no use preaching to those in whose blood it is. We had our own fighting cocks and when visiting a strange village they would be set to fight the local talent. If the other one won, he was immediately purchased and so joined our unit. By now I could do anything mechanical to do with the maintenance of tanks and armoured cars backwards. But our unit was always under shortage of equipment and in 1943 I started getting dysentery again. Also I now heard in mid- 1942 that my Mother and young brother Mike had disappeared 800 miles out of Australia on their way back to Ceylon on the “Nankin”. Their last message was “Being attacked by Dive Bomber” followed by “Abandoning Ship”. Two years later we heard that a South American Consul had seen the Nankin in Yokohama, and shortly after that they were still alive..