1942 April
From LJT to Annette
April 5th 1942
My darling Annette
Thank you for your letter No 1 of Jan 3rd. Its nice to hear about Christmas doings. I wondered many times what you did with yourself, so its nice to know that you were able to spend the evening in the bosom of the Bous family. I am glad too that the food parcesl helped towards the little festivities.
There is something in your way of retailing things that delights Dad. He always likes to “read out” bits of your letters, even when I have read them already, or am just about to do so. The same curious, almost miraculous situation about books arose with us. I turned out lots before we left Chinsurah, but our book-cases are still full. Uncle’s “Token gift” is a charming idea, worthy to be enshrined in a book. Your mention of having got a slight chill and felt off colour for two or three days is the first time you have mentioned not feeling well that I can remember since I left home. You have had astonishingly good health. Is’nt sad to think of poor Dad being starved because his wretched stomach has ceased to make anything with which to digest his food. Its no wonder he always feels limp and tired. How exciting it will be if acid introduced from outside can do the job, and help him to pick up his health again. Its a lucky thing that he has been taking vitamin pills, as they have perhaps just kept him going.
This week I have found myself to be a promising stump orator. I have been going into the big halls in the Supply Department where three hundred clerks, or something in that neighbourhood are working, and I have harangued groups of them about giving blood. When they shake their heads, and say there are plenty of other people to do it, I become as one inspired, and a torrent of words pours out almost without my consciously thinking of them. It has been effective in getting quite a good few who had previously refused, to volunteer. If I could spare three or four whole days to go round and do this work only, I believe I could get a heap more to come forward, but its only for an odd ten minutes here and there that I can get away from the work in our own office.
One of the candidates who has been two or three times into our office this week, is a saddler from one of the best firms in Rangoon. He is a man of fifty one, and he has come to India by road, boat and bridle track over the mountains. The trek took sixteen days, and was pretty stiff in places. It was interesting to find how little necessity there was for this man to produce credentials, for many of the other men from Rangoon knew him and his work. He goes to our new Harness and Saddlery Factory. In a few spare moments I got him to tell me a little about the journey, and he spoke well in good simple words. Id like to have heard more. Best love, my dear. Your photos are nice. Mother
From HPV to Romey
Calcutta, April 4, 1942
My dear Rosemary,
doctor has in a manner certified me to be without bitterness. On Sunday last I had a test meal, such as I had once before when I was on leave in London, after we had been at St. Jacut the first time. This time they put the tube in through my nose. Not very comfortable or dignified, but less painful than the other method. With a syringe they take a sample of contents from the stomach every quarter of an hour and analyze it. Colonel Denham White remarked on the interesting nature of my results; there was practically no sign of acid at all and therefore it is a wonder how I digest my food. Of course the solution is that I do not. He commented that I was more or less being starved.
Indeed things have not gone well with me of late. I have been growing weaker and weaker and doing less and less. When one is too weak to do anything the boredom of it is another evil. My conscience forbids my doing nothing gracefully and I chafe at inaction.
The four kittens move closer and closer to the house. Now they spend most of their time outside the bottle-khana door and they have insinuated themselves into the godown near it. At lunch time Mogul feeds them so that by the time that their real meal of the day comes, the tea-time rice and meat that they blackmailed us into supplying to them, they do not want to eat it. Alone of them the very smallest has a name; it is Thomas, after the Thomas Younie or maybe Yownie “whom you willna fickle in Huntingtower”. Much pleasure is to be had from watching the antics of these little beasts which a few weeks ago were staggering about on the edge of death.
Just as I have a deficiency of acid, so Idris Matthews has an excess. It strikes me that in a civilized world we should cooperate, and have the tube passed down both our noses with a valve so that the excess from one might be siphoned off to remedy the deficiency of the other. Others have suggested that I should have a pit’s stomach grafted on, because there is nothing that pig’s acid will not dissolve. But I do not fancy that even as a fantasy.
It is a nuisance that we have so many servants to be upheld and comforted when there is an air-raid alarm. This prevents my lying comfortable in my bed until something should happen to make it advisable to get up. We had an alarm last night at about 1 o’clock. And woke ourselves up finally by going downstairs and having a roll call and so on. By the time I had finished al the preliminaries and stretched myself out to have some sleep (perhaps) down in the room selected as a shelter, the all-clear signal went. Thereafter we both lay awake for some time. I have done badly in the sleep line of late.
Is it safe to remark that I do appear to be typing better today? Two days ago I typed a business letter, short it is true, without a mistake.
Sunday, April 5th. Last night I slept with such persistency from such an early hour that I expected this morning to be full of activity, but it has not worked out that way. It is to be said that never in the course of my long experience of sicknesses, except after being shot, have I been so dead beat and fit for nothing as during these last few weeks.
John has suggested that as a tonic or rest I should go out to see ‘Pygmalion’ of which there is a revival at the Metro this morning. The question is how to do this without exhaustion. It has been arranged that I should have injections of liver and I shall start this morning; it is to be hoped that they will not push them into my seat, so that I have to stand up to my work and may meals for some weeks.
Looking at the typing by the light of day instead of by the dimmed light appropriate to the blackout which is rightly to be called an obscuration, I was saddened to see that there was the usual percentage of utterly unpardonable errors. The machine has been giving trouble of late. Twice the whole ribbon apparatus has jammed and still there is a definite tendency for it to stick. The second time that I took it to the shop they said blandly that of course the repair effected could not be expected t stand wear for long, because the spring was broken. Infuriating country where they do not tell of such things or make any attempt to put them right. It is more difficult to type when one is expecting the machine to go wrong at any moment.
I am rather relieved to have the Burma refugees depart. It is difficult to dope with such things when feeling rotten oneself. Gage was a bundle of nerves and it made me also a bit jumpy to talk to him for long. He had been at Canterbury with me, in the team that I captained. A bit junior to me, he retained much more vivid memories of its doings than I did myself. Strange to be able to give the names of the youths who played against us, whether at the time or years afterwards!
An interruption by my dear brother and Winsome, who arrived with two friends and the news that it was Easter. So I took him to ‘Pygmalion’. The shorts that originally went with it go with it still, an so we had that film which always reduces me to weak laughter, called “Eye Strain”. And ‘Pygmalion’ remains excellent. Indeed I think that it is a long way the best film that ever I did see. Strange to say the theatre was almost full, at 10:30 in the morning!
The interruption now that I come to reflect, was on account of my having to go off for the injection. And it was in the seat as feared. But it has left me no stiffness. “Now I shall soon be altogether a Sahib!” In fact there is a strong suspicion abroad that I shall now regain my strength. All that the doctor looks at is my tongue; he is keen always to know if it is less dry. A setback to me who was pleased that it was a rosy red; at least in spots.
Yes, I do believe that y abstinence from the typewriter for about a week owing to sheer inability to sit up to it after a day’s work, and the day is a half-day really, has brought about an improvement in my tapping.
Yesterday searching for a file of papers I came across one in your mother’s cupboard that was full of copies of the letters written by me from Chinsurah while she was at home seeing you all in Oxford. It came as a shock to see how gay they were by comparison with those that I perpetrate nowadays, and yet even then I thought myself to be tired ---- and I was tired. As for gaiety, I quote you that creature Annette. A letter last night that was a heart-lifter. How excellent that with the war on, the younglings in England and in Canada can remain so debonair!
Much love,
Dad
Family letter from LJT No 12
8 Theatre Rd.
Calcutta.
April 5th 1942
My Dears,
One of the chief matters of personal interest to us this week has been the result of Herbert’s examination by means of the test meal. The experiment shows an almost total absence of the necessary digestive acid. It means that most of the food that Herbert has been taking has been doing him no good, and simply causing him pain and discomfort. He has been given acid to take before all his meals, and is to have injections of liver. His diet is to be light fish and chicken, vegetable and fruit, avoiding all starchy things and fats. He is just going for his first injection this morning. I do hope the treatment will do him good. I suppose the poor darling has been not only starved, but also poisoned to some extent by the undigested food. Its no wonder he feels constantly tired, and finds life such a burden.
The next event was the rather sudden departure of the Gage family on Wednesday. At mid-day on Tuesday they were told that if they could go at once to Bombay they could have passages on a boat leaving shortly for England, so off they went. They were much relieved at getting away so soon, for the doctors in the Tropical School of Medicine said that Mr Gage’s nerves were in a bad state, and that he ought to get out of this country as soon as possible. Herbert’s clothes exactly fitted Mr Gage, and we fitted him up with an old suit of Herbert’s, old in age but very little worn, because Herbert did not like it, and the oldest of three dinner-jacket suits, which I had been meaning to get rid of for ages. I am so glad we were able to help them, for they had very little with them, being limited to a suit case each, and a few bags. I hope they get home safely and dont have too nerve-racking a voyage.
We had an Air raid alarm at 12.45 a.m on Good Friday night. We are not quite clear yet whether it was an intentional practice, or due to a mistake. Whichever way it was, I think it was a good thing to have one night practice. Everything went to plan in this house, and we spent half an hour in the downstairs room, with the servants in the adjoining one. They all seemed quite calm, though we thought it was a genuine alarm.
This has been the busiest week I have had in office, and I have not been leaving till 5.30 or 5.45 each day. We have had a constant stream of people from Burma, both Europeans and Indians, and have filled a lot of our vacancies from amongst them. At the same time I have been busy with pushing on the arrangements for finding donors for the Blood Bank, which started functioning yesterday. We have got enough volunteers to keep two teams functioning all day on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, besides the one team who were working all day yesterday, and I hope we shall get more volunteers when the doubting people see and hear, that it really does not do any harm or cause inconvenience.
Now that accounts are appearing in the papers about the widespread treachery of the Burmans, I suppose it is all right to speak of it. We have been hearing about it from the people coming in from Burma from the beginning. Our people, including the air force, are fighting under frightful difficulties, for all movements of troops, are signalled to the Japs, and emergency landing grounds, have signal fires lit round them, as soon as they are brought into use. It is a sad and depressing business, but there seem tiny signs that the tide is beginning to turn, and surely America will be getting into her stride soon? I fear that one thing we have come down on badly in Malaya and Burma is over-civilizing our troops, and making them dependent on tremendously heavy transport. It has meant that we have had to stick to the roads, and the Japs have just slipped through the great stretches of jungle between them.
This, of course, has been the great week for Sir Stafford Cripps with all his conferences, which look like ending in smoke. I dont think most of us out here ever hoped for anything else. We know all too well the absolutely irreconcilable temper of Hindu versus Muslim. The catch words about British mistakes in India, are so futile. The difficulty is not any mistakes we may have made, which could doubtless be repaired, but this inter communal hatred and intolerence, which has endured so long, and which no outside legislation can cure.
* * * * * *
Pause here, while we had a visit from Harry and Winsome, and Coralie sister and brother-in-law, who had all been to the cathedral to-gether. Herbert and Harry have gone off to a morning performance of “Pygmalion”. Herbert was wanting to go, but hates going to a show without a companion. I said I must stay to do my letters, but in point of time I might as well have gone, for I had only finished to the bottom of the last page, when another caller arrived, a young chemist from Syrium, the Burma-Shell Oil Refineries across the river from Rangoon. He was one of the band who stopped to blow the place up. He says it was a fearful and yet a wonderful sight. The poor lad arrived about 11,30 and stayed till 1 o’clock. He seemed so pleased to find someone to talk to that I had’nt the heart to tell him I was very busy, or make any other excuse to get rid of him.
Herbert came back much pleased with his outing. “Pygmalion” stood its third seeing well, and so did the absurd short “Eye-Strain” which preceeded it. Harry was an admirable companion. The two brothers dont see very much of each other now, owing to pressure of work and lack of petrol.
Yesterday we got letters Numbered 1 and dated 8th Jan and 3rd Jan, from Grace and from Annette respectively. As always its a joy to get news from home. I’ve had letters from Gwen Petrie and from Poppy Dunn also during the last few days. Poppy is still in her little flat in London, where she stayed all through the Blitz periods, in spite of the warnings from friends.
The four remaining kittens have now taken up their abode close to the house, chiefly under a thick hedge, which runs along in front of the servants quarters, though Mogul tells me their bed-room is a go-down where we keep boxes. All four kits have grown into pretty, healthy-looking little animals, and thought they come running when called, they will not allow themselves to be touched. They are a great delight and pleasure to Mogul, who has fixed up various play-things for them.
Best love to you all
LJT
Family letter from HPV (not in AMT’s set of letters – this typed by Joan Webb)
Calcutta, April 6, 1942
My dear Rosemary,
There was rain this afternoon and the temperature has dropped to 76, which makes us all to shiver, or almost so. Actually I am sitting without a fan, improbable though you will think it. It has quite saddened me, by the way, to read that the Canadian readers of my letters doubt the story of finding cartloads of radishes 18 “ long. Joan reminds me that I could have told with truth of radishes 30” long that we saw years ago in Contai, or rather of a radish like that; it was being carried on a man’s head----a load in itself. She says, of course, they are not like our home radishes. But I do not see how not except that they are so long and thick, and naturally are course and cannot be eaten raw.
There were also letters from Annette. She said nothing so vile and hurtful as that about the radishes. But it may be said at once, that I see no more reason to praise her learning Russian now than I did before. The fact that the Russians are putting up so stout a fight proves nothing about the excellence of their language. It is true that since the French collapsed I have fallen out of the way of reading French. But that is not so much because I think the worse of the language as because I now that I shall no more wander in France or have a use for the language.
Nonetheless, it is a little hard that the family should scrap my three nice detective stories, translations though they were. One of them and maybe the worst, had a chapter about attending the first night of a movie, and I had always meant to learn it by heart to make myself at home if it chanced that I attended such a function. I wonder what three they were. Can it be that you have come across the Diamant Perdu, that masterpiece describing the Loire country and the manner in which a young man should behave when he happens to have taken an innocent young girl to live with him and look for diamonds??? What the third can have been, though, I cannot think. The Gurner girl selected as a suitable reading matter that absurd continuation of the D’Artagnon series which I bought at St Jacut. Let me be honest and say that this is indeed the tripiest of tripe books. Joan reduces me to shame by telling people that I have some French books which they may read; I hate to have my low tastes made public.
It is a pity that I had not the energy myself to tell the news of my test meal and of the deficiency in al useful material in my inside. I told a young man who had come in to talk about his chances of getting a job in China that the result was the discovery of my having no acid at all and no power to digest anything, and he said vaguely, “How nice!”
It is a pity that the doctor asks so interestedly whether the new treatment is doing me good yet. Is it? On the one hand I was less gloomy at breakfast, but on the other I was as limp as a knit sock by lunchtime.
At the grand cost of Rs 5 I have had the typewriter ribbon feed repaired. I expect soon to attain to the proficiency which I hoped at the outset. My conscience tells me that I ought to start the lessons again at the beginning and make a job of it.
Much love,
Dad
Family letter from LJT No 13
8 Theatre Rd.
Calcutta.
April 12th, 1942
My Dears,
Monday last brought us a wonderful batch of mail. There was Grace’s long letter No 3 (d. Jan 27th) Annette’s No 2 of the same date, and one from May, posted on the 9th Jan. Then from Canada there were three from Romey, nos 49, 50 and 51 on dates spaced out through February. It took me most of the evening to read them all, and “did I enjoy it!” I had been wondering how you were all enduring the cold. It must have been terribly trying for everyone. I thank you all for sparing so much time to write, and the letters all have such a cheerful tone, in spite of the difficulties you must be putting up with.
As far as India is concerned it has been a week of heavy news. The sinking of two cruisers and an aircraft carrier is a depressing blow, and fate was unkind, for the weather became bad, with a visibility of almost nil over the sea, so that our forces, poised to chase the Jap ships, were helpless till the air cleared, by which time the enemy fleet were out of range. These disasters have cut into our hearts much more deeply than the break-down of the attempt to settle the Indian question, which no doubt is far more important. In the beginning most of us had little hope that anything would be accomplished, but during the past week there have been persistent rumours that the parties were coming together, so that we began to feel that something might happen. However, not being able to see into the future, we cant tell how things would have gone if Jawahalal Nehru had been made defence Minister. He is undoubtedly an able man, and I have always thought that he is one of the few amongst the Indian Leaders who is genuine, but he might have had fantastic, and even disastrous notions about methods of defence. One thing may be hoped and that is that Sir Stafford Cripps talks will have cleared away a lot of misapprehension, both in England and in America, about what we are trying to do for India.
Perhaps there is something the same feeling in India now, as there was in England after the Fall of France. I dont know whether others share it, but my impression is one of hanging on, and working all out to hold back the enemy, till stores of might which are in the building, are ready to be used. It is in certain respects, a race with time. Its a curious thing that as a nation we never seem to be ready for anything. Many things which Idris was saying ought to be done years ago, are now having to be pushed through under difficulties at the eleventh hour. This is in more than one sphere, and its best not to particularise in a letter.
In office we are as busy as ever, with many people coming through from Burma. We have got a lot of good engineers into place, and its something to know that when men have been thrown out of their own job they are quickly placed in other important ones for which they are properly qualified. Soon our special division is moving its quarters. Idris and I went to see how work was getting on in the building we are taking over. It is the new wing, only just finished, and never used, of one of the big Roman Catholic Colleges here, and it will make good offices. We shall be far more comfortable, and have a great deal more room. It was lucky Idris and I went round the other morning, for there were many things at fault, such as fan and light points in the wrong places, no doors, where door were shown on the plan and where they are necessary, and so on. It will be another couple of weeks before we can move in, I should think.
Our first R.A.F. lodger arrived yesterday and seems an extremely nice young man. He has the rather curious name of Pennifer. He is a Bomber Command Pilot Officer. He did about six months in England after leaving the Flying School, then six months in Egypt, and arrived in India three weeks ago, and in Calcutta on Friday. He has made some interesting comparisons about weather flying conditions in the different countries, things of special interest to Idris, who is so keen on all that side of flying.
Herbert has been drinking his acid medicine, and having his injections of liver all this week, and I think there is a distinct improvement in his general health, and in his digestion. He cant expect to build up his strength again in a few days, of course, but I feel happier and more hopeful about him than I did.
The kittens in which Herbert and Mogul take such an absurd interest, are becoming young cats, but are still amusing. I’m not starting another page. Best love to you all
LJT
(on back of family letter)
My darling Romey,
Your letter had only just gone to its posting last week when an envelope arrived with three letters from you, nos 49, 50 and 51, and four days later came no 52, written on the 8th March and delivered here on the 10th of April, the quickest we have had since the Jap War started.
How particularly thankful I am that we did not fetch you out here, now that things are as they are. Aunt did tell me that you were not very willing to leave England, but that when you took into consideration the fact of John requiring an escort, and the saving of anxiety it would be to us, you gave in. I like your spirit in wanting to stick it out in England, but it has been the greatest comfort and support to us to know that you, at any rate, were safe. It would have been a heavy responsibility for Aunt to have had you in England all through that Blitz period, and when you left England it still seemed probable that there would be an early attempt at invasion.
There is so much in all your letters that I feel almost lost and don’t know where to begin commenting on them. I get an impression that you busy and active, and in your last letter, your feeling shot through with a slight anxiety about your impending examinations. You have done pretty well in exams so far, so perhaps these will turn out as well.
About films, some time ago I read “How Green is my Valley”, and was much struck by it. Well presented it should make a splendid film. I hope it will come here soon. I am on the lookout for “49th Parallel” also. It is amusing the things that make ‘the troops’ laugh. At “The Trial of Mary Duggan”, which I saw last night, the young man says, “Where shall we go to dinner?” and the girl says, “I don’t like big places”, to which he replies, “What about Himalayan Hermitage, or the Black Hole of Calcutta?” The house laughed at this for about five minutes! Calcutta is full of soldiers now, and the cinemas are doing a roaring trade.
I’m looking forward to hearing some first-hand news of Egypt from our newly arrived RAF lodger. He seems an intelligent young man, and will, I think, be a pleasant person to have about the house.
It is good to hear that the tablemats are liked. I can’t help being amused Winsome and I both chose mats to send!
We see the magazine “Life” occasionally, but not very often. I don’t suppose there is much chance of buying it here, but I’d like to se the Winnipeg pictures.
I am going to stop this now, because I have only half an hour left to lunch tie, and both Richard and Annette to write to. I may be able to ad a little more this evening. For the moment, my dearest love to you,
Mother
From LJT to Annette No 13
8 Theatre Rd
Calcutta.
April 12th 1942
My darling Annette,
Thank you for another admirable letter, No 2, received on April 6th.
Your account of the Frank & Joyce Household, is amusing. Their attitude reminds me of that of my old school friend, Helen Johnston, who lives in Edinburgh and has never married. She is able to take up any new cult, or political party, read its propaganda, believe it implicitly, and assert that anything written by its critics is either biased or downright lies. Joyce used to write to me about Federal Union, and beg me to read all sorts of books. A little while ago she wrote and said “We have given up Federal Union”, just as one might say “I have decided to discard last winter’s hat”. Then she went on to say that either socialism or communism is all the thing! Its odd to be made like that. I fance that that attitude of mind may be begotten or nourished by a rather narrow education, and still more by not mixing in the sort of society where you meet people of all sorts, and from many different parts of the world. There are exceptional people who can rise above any education, and educate themselves to any level: likewise there are people who can be given a first class education and get nothing out of it, but taking it all in all, width of reading and width of contacts are useful training for keeping a level head amongst all the notions which people try to push to the exclusion of others.
When I was putting the latest letters from you and others of the family into their appropriate packets to-day, I thought to myself that in those four bundles of letters, lies good material for background or local colour of as many books. It seems incredible now that a time will ever come again when people will have the leisure to write books.
* * * * * * *
Sorry! Ramsey chase came in at that moment, stayed to lunch, and took a siesta here. He and Dad and I then went along to have tea in the garden at the Saturday Club, and look at the latest papers from home. When I got back here, and was just settling down to write Gwen Wright Nevill came in, and stayed too it was time to change for dinner.
Its latish now and I am sleepy, for I was up late last night, out at the cinema and back to the Saturday Club for a drink and a dance or two afterwards, so I am not going to attempt to write more now. Will you perhaps send this letter on to Dicky? I may keep back the sea-mail envelope and write a letter to him in lunch hour to-morrow.
Best love to you both
Mother
From LJT to Annette No 14
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
April 16 1942
My darling Annette,
Shopping is so difficult to fit into the days routine, that day after day has gone by and I have not taken the little opals to be set for you and Rosemary, nor have I taken your photos to be framed. To-day I detirmined to have the car to fetch me from office, on the excuse that I had to bring away the ice box, jugs and one thing and another that I had lent to our central First Aid Post, for supplying drinks to the donars of blood to the Blood Bank. I then went to the Newmarket to my Bombay jewellers, where I have left the stones to be set quite simply as little finger rings. Your photos I am having done in two frames in sets of three in each. I wanted to take them to Dey Babu myself, as I was not sure about the best way to arrange the mounting. Romey’s individual pictures I could order done by letter, for there was nothing complicated about them. I miss you photos now they are away, and look forward to getting them back on Saturday.
The New market has a strange appearance. Many of the cloth and silk shops up the main aisle have closed. I suppose stocks simply ran out. There is no doubt they got a lot of stuff from Japan. The front of the Market is all blocked in with baffle walls. Indeed Calcutta has been growing baffle walls almost as rapidly as our boots and books grow mould in the Rainy season.
There has been much talk going on about whether all women should not be sent away from Calcutta. It makes me very angry. Women with young children, or invalids, yes, if they like, but they able bodided women capable of doing a job of work should run off when there is so much work to do, and when it is so necessary to set an example to the typists and telephone girls, and well as to the Indian servants, seems just monstrous to me. Its most insulting to imagine that we are not prepared to stand beside our men folk if the moments of danger come. I think often of your words about Russia. I.E that one thing you like about the Soviet regieme is that they do seem to accept men and women on their merits and abilities as individuals, regardless of sex. Thank goodness Dad has not any mamby-pamby ideas about sending me away, I think he most sensibly takes it for granted that I am fit to stand up to danger as well as women in other parts of the world. And after all this talk Calcutta may never come into the danger zone!
Our young Pilot Officer lodger is a success. We don’t see a great deal of him, for he is out most of the day, and has been out one or two evenings, and so sleepy on others that he has gone off to bed directly after dinner. He is not flying at the moment, but waiting for aircraft to arrive. He is interesting to talk to, and I have enjoyed the few chances I had had of talking to him tete a tete. Its strange to look at these lads and think of the numbers of time they have definitely faced death, and to know that they will do it again and again.
Briton in Asia is certainly been tried in the fire at the present time. I hope when the dross is burned away, there will be some gold left. I still think as a nation we have great qualities, but we have got lazy, and blind and complacent, I suppose, and need some rude shocks to wake us up.
Your letters, more than any others we get from home, give us little glimpses of the more intellectual and cultured sorts of entertainments that are still going on. Its good to know that people still have the will and the energy to do these things. I often wonder what life is like in France, especially in Paris in these days. I suppose places of entertainment flourish to some extent, even if only under the German Heel and for the pleasure of the German conquerors. Dad and I were wondering the other day, what had happened to Madame Blok. How tragically hard life must have been and be for women like that. Dad reads a little French occasionally, but he never gets out his gramaphone records now. I think he is always too tired to tackle the mere physical labour of changing them and winding up the machine. My advice to teach one of the servants to do it, he regards with abhorrance!
Ramsey Chase is anxious to go down to the Botanical Gardens, so we may make an expedition there and take a picnic tea on Sunday. He is a nice fellow, likes quiet amusements, and delights in getting out into the country. He is also interested in the actual trees and plants.
17.4.42 I am just finishing this off before I go to office. How odd it will feel when this incredible was does at last stop, and life goes back to normal, or some sort of normality, for I suppose life is bound to be a good deal different from what it was before the war.
Best love, my dear, and we do appreciate your letters.
Mother
Family letter from LJT No 14
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
April 18th 1942
My Dears,
There have been odd letters from different people drifting in during the last few days, and one or two from the Bank at home, but no more from the family. We must expect a little pause after the feast we had last week.
Anxiety about Burma continues to hold a foremost place in our minds. There is a feeling that great movements are afoot, in other parts of the world, which will be of infinitely more importance than anything that can happen to Burma, but Burma is so close to us, and what happens to her matters so deeply to us. It seems that the brave self-sacrifice of the planes that went out from Colombo to attack the air-craft carrier and her escort, has had a reward, for the Jap ships seem to have withdrawn for the moment. Mr. Pennifer, our R.A.F. lodger, is still standing by for a plane. He has been doing odd jobs at the R.A.F. Hdqts, but complains that he is having too much time off. A weeks’ slack spending a good deal of time in the swimming pool, is probably extremely good for him, and will build him up for a fresh term of strain. He casually remarked last night that piloting a bomber is not very exciting. It is just like driving a bus! Ideas of excitement evidently vary. He told a tale of how he saw one of his companions shot down over the enemy lines in Libya. The crew baled out. He remembers thinking that if he ever saw any of them again, it would not be till after the war. Eight days later the pilot, a New Zealander, walked into their own camp. His two companions were both wounded in the legs. He walked to a neighbouring Arab village, and bought a donkey. On to this he put the two wounded men, and set them off for a near-by Italian fort, while he calmly set out to walk back to the British lines. It took him eight days to get there. He had no food or water, but he discovered that on the little desert thorn bushes there were a good number of tiny snails. Each morning he managed to collect a few mouthfuls of these, and so kept himself alive. He was sent to Cairo for a fortnight’s leave, and then came back and went into the air again. I dont think I shall ever feel quite so badly about the snails that chew up the garden, after hearing this story.
Poor Herbert has had a tooth out to-day. It has been worrying him for some time. The dentist took a look at it, and could find nothing wrong, weeks ago, but it has been sensitive, and Herbert felt almost sure that the tooth was dying and that sooner or later an abscess would form under it. That very thing has happened to him before. At last he decided to have the tooth drawn, and the verdict is that he was right. A local anaesthetic always makes him feel wretched, and the wound keeps on bleeding, so the poor dear is not spending a very happy Saturday afternoon. He has not shown much further improvement as far as his digestion and general health are concerned, but he is certainly better than he was before he started taking the acid. The doctor says he should really get away to a cool place for a month, but times are too difficult for holiday-making, and he’s not good at going away by himself.
Barring a few evening visitors, there have been no social doings to report this week, but I think I forgot to mention that I dined out to meet the Chinese Consul General and his wife the previous week. Madame Pau is an American, and a clever entertaining woman, very able I should say. Dr Pau is a big man for a Chinaman, not as easy to talk to as she is, but interesting when once you get him going. We were talking about inherited traits, and Madame Pau informed us that her husband is a direct descendant of Ghengis Khan. I looked at this bland gentleman in evening dress, and thought how odd it would be to look back to such an ancestor.
Have I ever told you that I am, at last getting a few white hairs? They are at present very few, but I suppose it is the herald of coming events, and that soon they will begin to be noticeable.
Calcutta has changed rapidly during the last few weeks. We used to see so few soldiers about. Now the place is full of them. They have developed a new profession for the inhabitants, and that is boot-blacks or shoe-shine boys. Apparantly the troops like getting their boots shone for them, and its not taken long for some bright lads to find this out.
We have been having most remarkably cool weather the last few weeks, but its hot again now. I have shut the door of my writing-room which leads off the bed-room, and sitting writing in a night-dress for the sake of coolth. I must now go and dress for tea.
Best love
LJT
From LJT to Romey No 14
April 19th, 1942
My darling Romey,
This morning I have had some most agreeable leisure, owing to the fact that I wrote my letters to Dicky and Annie on evenings during the week, and the family letter, yesterday (Saturday) afternoon. The leisure has allowed me to browse through your last few letters, and I have beside me a half sheet of paper with notes of lots of things about which I want to comment. There are lots of interesting little sketches of life in mid-Canada in winter; things that one does not think of for oneself. For instance, the fact that you get out to the University about sunrise; the snow fences; the way the dogs go in the snow; tobogganing; and the constant need for protection against cold. More and more such knowledge drives into ones mind the realization of the courage and endurance of the early settlers ‘The Pioneers’.
About “time”, too. We have this variety of times in this country so puzzling to people used only to a country of England’s size. We have what is known as ”Standard Time” which is Central Indian, and the time used on all the railways. Calcutta used to use its proper sun-time, which was 24 minutes ahead of Standard. Bombay was about the same behind Standard. Now, in order to allow people a little more light to get home in the evenings, we have shifted our time forward to make it an hour ahead of Standard, (36 minutes ahead of sun-time), so we now get quite nice long evenings, which is a great advantage in a hot country. We, by the way, are “in tomorrow”, as far as you are concerned, since the counting of time goes the old, or long way around the world.
How very nice of Isabella to send you a book, and I imagine “Churchill” by Guedella is a handsome book. About the books you bought for my sake, I only know Gino Watkins from Freddie Spencer Chapman’s love and admiration for him. I was terribly sorry to hear from Frank Kingdon Ward that Freddie was one of their commandoes in Malaya, and up to the time Frank left here a few weeks ago, no news had come through about Freddie. However he has been in many very tight places, so perhaps he will eventually turn up somewhere.
Dad bought and read with interest “Man, Microbe and malady”, and has read many bits of it to me. He found it most interesting, and I am sure I shall when I find time to read it. Dad, you see, is able to read in the evenings, but I have all the household management to see to, notes and letters to write, accounts to do, during the hours when I am at home, so I can’t read very much. Bill Birnie, who appears in “Kamet Conquered” was afterwards an ADC to the Governor here, and I got to know him very well. He wan on the 1933 Everest Expedition, and subsequently he was Secretary to the Himalayan Club for a couple of years, so that I corresponded with him constantly. He was an ADC to General Wavell a while back, but I don’t know whether he still is.
I read the potted version of “This Above All” in the Readers Digest, and found it interesting. I’d like to read the full-length book. I suppose those of us who have been born in comfortable circumstances, don’t realize half enough the dreadful privations, sufferings, anxieties and discomforts of the poor and the unfortunate. The Digests have turned up quite well.
It will be interesting to hear if anything comes out of the idea of getting students to do summer war jobs. You seem to be making good progress with your telegraphy. I wonder whether you will be used for that. Supposing you do get out to the Coast and supposing you find yourself in Vancouver with time on your hands, you might write to Mrs. Robert King, c/o Canadian Bank of Commerce Vancouver, and find out if she has arrived and, if so, get in touch with her. She is a Russian girl, nee Irene Daniloff. Her mother, Olga, escaped from the revolution with two small daughters. The father, officer in a Cossack regiment, was killed. Olga subsequently married George Hawes, who does part time work in our office. When Irene first came out to Calcutta some years ago, both Dad and I were very fond of her. She married a man in the RAF, and we saw them again in New Zealand, where he had been sent as an Instructor. Her husband has some property in Vancouver, and was then talking of sending Irene and their little daughter there, as he was due to return to England this spring. Poor Irene was going to have another baby, but something happened and everything went wrong, and she, poor girl, went almost our of her mind for awhile. The latest letters from New Zealand, which have taken ages to come, gave much better news of her, and said she was fairly normal again, and still spoke of going to Vancouver. It seems probable that the war in the Pacific has prevented it, but at present we don’t know.
Best love my darling, from
Mother
Family letter from HPV (pencil note from LJT at top of letter – Richard’s copy follows by sea)
Calcutta,
April 22nd 1942.
My dear Annette (handwritten name)
Last week I abstained from writing to the family or to any member of it, because my strength was limited after the operation or ceremony of tooth-pulling and because it was above all necessary to write to Brother Bill. He had written to me about Gerald. The last letter that I had had from him was the one in which he forgave me all; thus infuriating my dear wife who held very strongly the view that the forgiveness should have come from me. Which was absurd; because like the elephant I do not do such things and also because I had felt no annoyance when the original row took place. It occurs to me that I cannot practise the Christian virtue of forgiveness because I lack the Christian’s due share of malice. Confirming the doctor’s discovery on which I discoursed some two weeks ago that I have no bitterness.
Also I had nothing to write about. I have even less now but it came upon me as a pleasing thought in my bath that I must discourse on the subject of hobbies. Has it been noticeable in my letters (or have they been too rare to be significant as the statisticians say?) that various of my interests have decayed or fallen away from me like Christian’s burden in the Pilgrim’s Progress? It is months or years since I laboured with the linguaphone records. Months since I read any French – but that may be because I have had nothing new. Months since I dealt with humus except as far as shop demanded when the Rai Bahadur wanted my stuff to translate. Years again since I took an interest in the diving.
It is obvious that as soon as the prospect of my doing a thing myself fades away, I lose all interest in it. Can it be that other people are like that? I doubt it. Apart from Cato who could not really have expected to use his Greek there are the cricket and football enthusiasts and Annette with her Russian. Her disgust when she read about the rather sordid life in that country is nothing to what she would feel if she went there and tried to use her accomplishments: but that is rather irrelevant.
Also it occurred to me in my bath, for all this is bath-thought, that it cannot be that I continue to read murder stories because I have a hope in the subconscious of committing one or enduring one myself.
The tooth-wound on this occasion has not given much trouble. Of course there is a birdcage-bottom taste in my mouth from it but it started to heal up pretty quick and has not hurt more than is right and that is a lot less than I expected.
The acid with my meals has done some good, I think. A slow business but I suppose that there is much poison from months of undigested and merely composted meals to be worked out of the system before I really get down to the job of getting stronger. Anyhow I have lost the utterly dead feeling which had become habitual to me.
I am wondering all the sheets are torn or only the top one. A huge hole has been rent in it by the two guide things which support the paper at the back and all may have been destroyed. The mere possibility has shaken my nerve and I am making mistakes wholesale.
Time that I stopped therefore.
(handwritten addition) It is the 25th. No fresh happenings. I still feel a bit alive but no energy – and in the hot weather few people have energy anyhow. It is a symptom of better things that I have written three other letters this week – Bill, Father Lowe, May Ow.
Much love
Dad
Family letter from LJT No 15
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta
April 25th 1942
My Dears,
Thanks to Grace for letters Nos 5 and 7 of Feb 17th and March 3rd respectively, the latter received only half an hour ago, and the former last Monday. Also thanks to Annette for Nos 3 and 4, enclosed with Grace’s. Its grand to have some home news. Our lodger, John Pennifer, went round to his squadron Hdqts yesterday, and came back with 24 home letters, which had followed him here from the Middle East. It turns out that he had his twenty-first birthday in February, and I think some of this huge mail were really intended for that occasion. Finding that there are ten or twelve N.C.Os of this same R.A.F. squadron lodging at the Bishop’s house, just round the corner from us, I offered our tennis court for their use, and I am glad to say they accepted, and are using it every evening. The first evening they were here they played in their khaki shorts and shirts, and the shirts were like wet rags after a game or two. Knowing how few clothes these R.A.F. lads can carry round, I suggested that it would be a good plan if they took their shirts off. They thought it a good plan too, and now play without them, and look much nicer and more comfortable. There are several Australians and one or two Canadians amongst them, and they are all interesting to talk to, and very easy to get on with. There seems to be no hard and fast dividing line between officers and N.C.Os and they all mix quite comfortably on apparently equal terms.
On at least two evenings this week I have spent some time talking to those of the party who happened to be sitting out. Some of them have been over in Burma already, and they are now all waiting for fresh air-craft to arrive, and feeling restive because they are doing nothing.
I picked up another two N.C.O. Australian airmen at a small concert in aid of war funds on Tuesday. It was a concert at a private house in Alipore, with a collection for war funds. I noticed that these two lads seemed to be alone, and Walter Jenkins who had kindly taken me out in his car, offered them a lift back into Calcutta. I asked them to come round to a late “after office” tea on Thursday, and they seemed so pleased to sit and talk, that I have invited them to come about seven to-morrow, and stay for dinner. I am so glad at last to have found some way of showing some hospitality to the troops, and its no effort, for all these men have plenty of interesting stuff to talk about. Its nice to see the garden and the court being used too.
For the past week or so there has been a much more cheerful spirit about. Its hard to say quite why, or where it comes from. The situation is still pretty grim in Burma, but it does look as if the Chinese and our troops are holding the Japs. Australia seems to be giving as good as she gets in her outlying possessions, and the news from Europe is definitely cheering. I suppose you have given our name and address to any of the several lads you mention as leaving for over-seas, probably India? There are such a lot of troops in this part of the world these days that any of them might easily find himself in or near this city.
In office we are as busy as ever with people coming in from Burma. Many of the people arriving now, have come in overland, via boats and mountain track. Some of the hardy ones say they quite enjoyed it, but others found it pretty trying, and all say that a diet of rice, and dal (a sort of thick soup made from dried pulse ) becomes a bit wearisome. We have been shown some amazing pictures of Rangoon as it was finally left, with all the big installations going up in flame and smoke. As far as any of the people to whom I have spoken know, the Shwe Dagon Pagoda was still standing. The Burmans have made such a fetish of it that I can’t help wishing the Japs had hit it and destroyed it. It was a thing in which I was vastly disappointed. It seemed to me tawdry and unimpressive, though it is astonishing seen from a distance, when it really does look like gold.
Sunday 26.4.42 The servants brought me word that the tennis players had finished, so I went down to have a drink and a chat with them. Now, with the daylight saving, tennis can go on till past seven o’ clock, and we sat talking quite a while, and it was time to bath and change for dinner when I came upstairs again.
I had a little party to introduce John Pennifer and one of his friends to some girls on Friday night. We had a “grill’ at the Saturday Club and danced. On certain evenings of the week there is dancing in the big dining room upstairs, which is one of the coolest rooms in Calcutta. They are pleasant informal little evenings, finishing at midnight. Capt Cowan, a Sapper of whom we saw a good deal about Christmas time, and who has been away lately, made up a party of six, and I think we all enjoyed it. One of the girls was Francesca Gurner, who is a darling, besides being very pretty, and the result of the party is that the Gurners have just carried John Pennifer off to breakfast and bathe at Tollygunge.
The old bearer Bhim Das, suddenly turned up yesterday without any warning. I had been sending him Rs 10 per month, and we did’nt want him back. The problem now is to know what to do with him. Its a nuisance having a ticklish matter of this sort to deal with when one is already full up with work.
Herbert has not been making rapid progress towards better health, but there is a distinct improvement. Idris is looking a good deal better lately too. Have I ever mentioned the joke about their respective diets. Herbert has to avoid all fats, so I get a special bottle of skimmed milk for him. Idris, on the other hand, needs lots of lubricant, so he has to have a pot of cream to go with his gruel porridge. Idris has to have lots of soft milk puddings, and Herbert must not touch them, but rely on fruit! It makes house-keeping a bit complicated! Luckily Coralie Taylor, John Pennifer and I have catholic tastes and strong digestions, so we can eat anything. I seldom see Coralie till dinner time, for she breakfasts at 7.45 and leaves the house at 8 o’clock for her military duties. She comes home for lunch, but I dont, and as she does not finish her work till 6 o’clock, and then goes to the Saturday Club for a swim, we have not much time in which to come in contact.
Most of her girls are shaping well for the gun control room work, and already a few men have been released, and more will go soon, when the girls are a little more familiar with the work. Coralie’s large dog Susan, a bull terrier-dalmatian cross, has established ascendancy over Herbert and Idris, and by the power of her eye, compels them to give her a piece of toffee or some goodie after dinner. As a great treat she was given Idris’ empty cream pot after breakfast the other morning, and that kept her busy for quite a time.
Mogul has been away for a few days this week, and has disposed of his house in Chinsurah and brought his wife and daughter to live here. He has also brought a cock and hen and a three parts grown chicken, which he was anxious to present to Winsome, but she did not want to mix country fowls with hers, so I have told Mogul that for the present I dont mind the fowl family walking about in the garden. There are no young plants for them to destroy at the present time. They are pretty little birds and look quite ornamental. There appears to be no antipathy between them and the kittens.
The weather is distinctly hotter than it was, but still nothing very fierce.
Best love to you al,
LJT
From LJT to Romey
My darling Romey,
As Dad has written this week, and as there is no letter to answer I am just doing a short note. I have had talks with two Canadian RAF men this week, one from Saskatchewan and the other from New Brunswick, but both know Winnipeg. It would be nice if someone turned up here who had met you. They seem to be getting a lot of Airmen here these days.
My plan of getting individual letters written during the week has not come off, because we have been out almost every evening. The activities have chiefly been in some way connected with entertaining soldiers. The big jugs of iced lemonade I supply to the tennis players are very popular. The consumption of sugar and limes rather shocks the cook, but the total cost is small, and the fresh lime is good for them, especially these men who have just come from Libya, where I don’t suppose they got much fresh fruit. One of the Australian observers, (the “friend” at my Saturday Club party) gave me a most interesting account of the difficulty of flying in the desert sandstorms. I enjoy hearing these lads talking about their work. They are so simple and straight forward over it.
It’s quite a time since we saw Winsome and Harry, at least since we saw them to talk to. I took Ramsey Chase and Col Birdwood to the Agri- Horticultural Gardens last Sunday evening, because they wanted to see some of the Indian flowering trees, and have a little stroll about on grass and in something as like country surroundings as possible. In the gardens we met Harry and Winsome and a guest who was staying with them, and had just a short chat. No more room it sees, so here’s my love to all of you.
Mother
From LJT to Annette and Richard No 15
8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
April 26th 1942
My dear Son and Daughter,
The good intentions of writing to you both during the week, so that your letters would not be turned out when I have already begun to feel a bit stale with letter-writing, has come to nothing this week, for we have been out or had people in here almost every evening. Our time has been taken up chiefly with some part of the army, so its been a little in the nature of helping along the national effort.
There are letters from Annie to thank for, but we have not had one from Dicky for quite a time.
The rather sudden wave of cheerfulness which seem to spread gently through Calcutta, and which I mentioned in my family letter, is a strange thing. One cant see what started it, and yet it seems definite. It is odd the way mass feeling travels. I hope there is good ground for more cheerfulness. What we long for is more air power, with which to smack the Japs in Burma. Supposedly it is on the way. The R.A.F. lads waiting here are getting impatient. They are having a pleasant enough time here, for they are mostly billeted in private houses, but they don’t like being idle, when things are still so crucial in Burma.
Poor John Pannifer heard yesterday that his best friend, who was a pilot in the Fleet Air Arm, has been killed. He says he keeps on thinking about it, and finds it odd that he does, for he has got used to being with others lads one day, and to finding that they are gone the next. The difference is, of course, that this boy belonged to his life outside the war.
Its strange that we have a lot of things happening in Calcutta now, which I suppose are semi confidential, and about which its best not to write. Its such a change for this city, which has never had more than a handful of soldiers in it, to find itself the centre of military activity. On the whole the soldiers are behaving very well. There are not many “drunks” or many brawls, and I dont think the local population are finding the soldiery half so terrifying as they anticipated.
For Annie here is the information that the opal has set prettily as a little-finger ring. I am sorry I cant send it.
Its intriguing to hear that a British Govt Dept has even got as far as thinking about installing fluorescent lighting. All the little I know about fluorescent light is culled from one article in The Readers Digest. The article was so full of pep and push that it sounded as if we should all be lit in this new way in no time. The drawback to so many of the Amercian articles, especially the medical things written by Paul de Kruiel is that they make some brand new and untried discovery, sound as if it is going to conquer age-long difficulties in a trice.
Did I tell you that Louise Ranken’s American Cook-Book for the Indian Table is out? It has some lovely sounding dishes in it, but I’ve little time to try to teach new things to the cook. Also most of them are rich. She likes lots of cream used in almost everything, and that is completely forbidden to Dad. It is also very expensive. She also uses a tremendous amount of butter in her cooking – too much I think. Perhaps these habits are why one is inclined to feel a bit liverish after dining in an American house. They balance it out by having fruit joice and a biscuit for breakfast, I suppose. The old British habit of a hearty breakfast seems to suit us best.
We have just had an I?C?S? (Sorry about those question marks) man, who has been appointed as Secretary to the China Relations Office in to lunch. He is a handsome fellow and rather amusing. Moreover he fitted in well with the absurd conversation that went on at lunch. I dont know how it all arose, but Dad suddenly said to John Pannifer. “You’d be just as surprised as if you suddenly met an angel in the garden there”. Then everyone hared off on trains of thought about how to treat an angel. Memories of the fact that chats with angels recorded in the Bible, were always followed by the arrival of babies. “How about His Satanic Majesty?” asked Idris. I lost a bit of the conversation after that, but the next I heard was another question from Idris “But what would you do if his hornes were in velvet?” Mr Lydall entered heartily into all this nonsense, and contributed some pretty ideas. We hope to see more of him.
Best love, dear ones
Mother