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The Townend Family Letters

Correspondence from the 1930s - 1940s between members of the Townend family
HPV + LJT Letters 1942 to 1944

1942 May

Family letter from LJT No 16

8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta
May 2nd 1942

My Dears,

Our nice young lodger was suddenly sent off a little way up-country yesterday to learn work on a new type of American Photographic Reconnaissance Plane. He was pleased to be getting to work again, but said he would rather be dropping bombs on the Japs than taking photos. We have grown fond of the lad in the three weeks he has been with us. He has been no trouble, and fitted into the family circle happily. He confessed that when first he came he was a little puzzled at the way the conversation at meals leapt from one subject to another and back again, but he soon got used to it, and took a fair share at joining in. The rest has undoubtedly done John Pennifer good. When first he was here he wanted to sleep and sleep. Lately he has remarked that if he slept all afternoon, he did not sleep so well at night. The answer was just that he had made up losses in nervous exhaustion, I fancy. He was eating better too, as noticed and commented on by Mogul.

We had our two Australian R.A.F. men to spend the evening last Sunday, and the tennis court has been in daily use. I go out most evening and have a chat with the lads. One chatty young man, who is evidently a bit of a wag, says he is going to ask to have “Free English” on his shoulder, as most of the Squadron have “Australia” or “Canada”.

We had one bit of the American Technical Mission in the office most of the day on Thursday, and Idris was delighted to be able to show him that a lot of the “new ideas” about Training, which he had come to teach us, had been in use in the Gun and Shell Factory for the last eight or ten years. Its interesting how some Americans bring out platitudes, and platitudes expressed in a most verbose manner, and appear able to observe them as if they were brand new and original discoveries. Our friend was more than a little like that, but a nice old boy all the same. Just as he was finishing his morning’s conference with Idris and Mr. Hughes, he looked across the room at me, seated at my table, and said “Mrs. Townsend! Do you drink much butter milk in this country?” “No” said I, “we do not.” “Ah” he said, “I asked for butter milk when first I came, but I could not get it. Now do you know that the Indians make curd, and that the liquid from that is almost as good as butter milk?” I refrained from saying “Dont teach your grand-mother to suck eggs, old boy”, and replied that I was familiar with the process, and gave him the Hindustani word for curds, further detailing some of the many sweet-meats of which the basis is curd, and the fact that many Indians consider curd good for the stomach (From the number of things they find “good for the stomach”, they must give a lot of anxious thought to the subject). This again is typical. He had been in India less than a week, and he quite thought his American intelligence had discovered something that the poor benighted British residents were not likely to know about.

We are just in the midst of moving office. We ought to have been in our new quarters in St Xaviers’s College to-day, but there was some sort of a strike on the part of the Contractor who was doing the move. All the boxes and bags were tied up last night, but neither they nor the furniture had been sent round this morning, so we just had to pull out what papers we could, and do what work was possible. We shall be much more comfortable in the new offices, for we shall have a lot more room, and though in distance the new quarters are much nearer to this house, it will not be so convenient to get to, for the tram is of no assistance.

The weather is behaving in a most odd way. It is not like the Hot Weather at all, but more like a break in the Rains. It is steamy and cloudy, and the temperature has been hanging about at 90 or a bit over. It is probably not such healthy weather as the hotter drier days, but I think it may be less trying to the troops who are in tents and places where there is no way of keeping cool.

Burma’s sad plight hangs like a shadow across our minds. If we could only get the Japs on the run there, how much happier we should feel, for the news from Europe is cheering on the whole. We are still getting many people coming in from Burma, and the office is as busy as ever.

Some enterprising amateurs put on a few performances of “The Importance of Being Ernest”, giving the profits to the Burma Relief Fund, this week, and I went with a small party on Thursday evening. In one of the intervals we went out for a drink. I suddenly felt my hand seized and shaken, and there was my old friend Reggie Cooke, who was chairman of the Eastern section of the Himalayan Club for so long. He went off to the Army before we left for New Zealand, and last July I had a letter from him from Lahore, saying that he expected to be going over-seas shortly, so it was a lovely surprise to meet him in Calcutta. He had only just arrived, and is now on the staff, where he certainly should be, for he is a first class organizer. We happily arranged to meet for dinner the next evening, but the following day he rang me up from Barrackpore, saying that they had suddenly been shifted out there, and he just could not manage to get in. He is going to come to spend an evening with us the moment he can find the time.

May 3rd Coralie Taylor happened to go into the Presidency General Hospital on her way back from work yesterday, and discovered about eight wounded officers from Burma, who had arrived the evening before by plane, and who, poor dears, had lost everything. Most of them have not even got a complete set of clothes. Had they remained in the British Military Hospital they would have been alright, for there are big sets of “comforts” always kept there. Getting this news, Coralie and I went out immediately after tea and got a lot of toilet things, and cigarettes, collected some books and magazines, and went along to see the poor fellows. By that time they had set themselves up with toothbrushes and paste, from a vendor who is allowed into the hospital, but they were glad of other things we took and gave us a list of things they needed. They were also anxious to get in touch with the Ordnance Corps, in order to get some more clothes, and were not sure whether from a Civil hospital anyone would do it for them. I’ve got the message through for them this morning, and Herbert with great nobility went out and got the rest of their requirements from the small chemist close by, and took the things round to them. He has also taken their measurements for some underwear and bush shirts, which they say they wont get from the Ordnance people. The eagerness with which they seized upon the books and magazines, gave one some idea of how they must have been starved in that direction lately. It was a bit late when we got to the hospital, so we did not hear much about their experiences. I expect we shall later.

* * * * * *

A visit from the Gurner family and a short air raid warning, have taken up what was left of the morning, after paying the servants, washing my hair and attending to a few telephone calls, so I shall finish now.

Best love to you all
LJT

Dearest Son and Daughter, (typed on bottom of family letter)

With some lack of firmness I have been letting circumstances get the better of me, and have not stuck to my plan of writing to you during the week. I dont want the lads who come round here to play tennis to feel that I lend them the court but dont think them worth speaking to, and some how once one sits down in a garden, with a nice breeze blowing, fairly late in the evening, and with a collection of pleasant and quite interesting young men to talk to, its very easy just to go on sitting.

Dad has stood up to his fatigues this week far better than I would have dared to hope. He had to spend a day going out to one of his District Hdqts, where there were some misunderstandings between the Civil and Military authorities. It meant a drive of more than seventy miles each way, and a lot of work to do there, but Dad was not so very tired when he gat back. It would almost have killed him a few weeks ago. He has been very brisk this morning, and walking to the chemist to shop for our wounded friends, and then going to the hospital on his bike, and spending quite a time with them. I feel much happier about him.

Mogul has been greatly impressed by the fact that John Pannifer is three years younger than Richard and a year younger than Annette. It is the first thing that has brought your ages home to him I think. He has reverted to the subject a number of times. John is a very mature 21, I think. I suppose responsibility for his bomber crew has matured him. I fear I often compared him in my mind with Gordon Lloyd to the great disadvantage of the latter.

By the way did I tell you the story he told of the South African who joined their squadron and had to clip his moustache because it got into his eyes when he dived. John swears that the statement is true.

Best love to both of you
Mother

My darling Romey,

There’s not much time left, so here’s only just a little note of personal love and greeting. It is a good time since we had letters from you. Evidently a sea mail has just come in, for we have had the Feb and March Reader’s Digests. It was chiefly Reader’s Digests that were seized upon with such joy by the poor chaps from Burma last night.
I have had a slightly guilty feeling all morning that I ought to have gone round to help tidy up the office. Idris has been there all morning. He says it all looks very messy and dusty. I shall take one of the servants tomorrow with duster and brush, and have a little better dusting done than the office orderlies indulge in. Their method is long distance flicking. You aim at knocking the dust off one thing to settle on another! A common Indian habit!
Did I tell you John Pennifer’s tale of the South African who joined their squadron, and had to clip his moustache because it got into his eyes when he dived! John swears that it is sober truth!
The little garden outside the south windows of the dining-room has a most domestic air these days, for it is there that the four kittens live, and there also the cock and hen and the chick spend most of their time. They and the cats ignore one another’s presence, as far as I have been able to observe.
I am looking forward to hearing how your holiday plans work out. I think we are sure to get letters soon. How is Helen’s work going? Since she mentioned that she was branching out in a new line, I have not heard how she likes it.

Best love to you,
Mother


Family letter from LJT No 17

8 Theatre Rd.
Calcutta.
May 9th 1942

My Dears,

The weeks, and even the months, seem to slip by quicker than ever when one is living to an office routine. We are getting used to our new office quarters, and it is a great advantage to us having more space. It is an especial advantage to Idris, for visitors can be kept away from him much more easily. Its nice to have a proper room for our typist and a proper visitors’ waiting room. The disadvantages this week have been that baffle walls are still being built just along outside the office, and mistris keep on arriving to fit in the telephone wires and the electric bells and all sorts of odd jobs. As the walls and floors are of extremely hard concrete, this all means a great deal of hammering. When the workmen have finished, it will be beautifully quiet, for we look out across the school football ground, and do not abut on to a road at all.

Winsome has kindly let me have my bicycle back for the time being while Charlotte is away, and the old bearer, Bhim Das, who is now installed as Dirwan, or door-keeper here, brings it to the office for me each evening. It only takes me about five minutes to ride home, but in this hot sticky weather, even that is enough to make one sweat.

The news that is in the fore-front of our minds to-day is the brief stop-press report that the big Jap fleet has been routed in the Pacific, and the much less important, but interesting to us, accounts of the Jap occupation of Akyab, and the first air attack on Chittagong. The whole Burma affair makes us terribly sad. Two new air-men came to lodge here yesterday. They are just back from Burma, and have gone through the sad experience of seeing the British forces pushed back and back to the north. The immediate betrayal of information as to the whereabouts of aero dromes and troops to the Japs, is the thing they all dwell on.

These two new young men are not at all the same class as John Pennifer, but I’m glad to be able to offer them a comfortable place to live for awhile, after months of discomfort in Burma. They have been living chiefly on cheese and rice of late. I have not asked them many questions, but I suppose their aircraft is having an over-haul.

We have been several times to the Hospital to see the men from Burma. All except three have now left. They were the lightly wounded ones who were sent into the Civil Hospital . I think they have been really grateful for help and attention, poor chaps. This reads rather as though all the Burma causalities had left. That is not so. The big British Medical Hospital is full to overflowing, and it was a small section of that overflow in which we became interested.

The same party of men from the Bishops House play tennis here daily, and we feel quite old friends. I dont know the names of most of them, but one or two of the Australians I call by the names of their towns. “Adelaide” is a fair thick-set powerful lad, with an extremely square chin, so the name is not exactly suitable.

Herbert has been extra busy all week. The Governor has taken a lot of fancies into his head about things that should be done. He has a passion for making new committees for everything, when actually there are too many already. Time has to be spent trying to ride him off these things. There have been long discussions about some sort of hostel or Club for the Indian troops. A great many of the larger and dangerous animals are being sent away from the Zoo, and there is a proposal to turn part of the Zoo into this Club. The gardens are charming. The position is fairly convenient. Certain of the houses could be converted into Club rooms, and the restaurant is already there, so the idea seems not a bad one. The Governor has decided that one of the High Court Judges, Mr Justice Amir Ali, a Persian by descent, shall be the leading spirit in getting this show going, and he came in to have a long discussion with Herbert the other evening about the most sensible way of doing the thing.

A very good hostel for British troops has recently been started on the Race Course. We went to see it last Sunday evening. Mrs. Martyn, the most capable young wife of the I.C.S. man who was Herbert’s assistant in Jalpaiguri, and Francesca Gurner (aged nineteen) are the chief people running it. Francesca was in charge when we went round the other evening, and I was delighted with her calm competence. She is small, as pretty as a flower, but she manages the troops without the slightest trouble. It seems to me a great tribute both to the men and the girls that this is so. The contrast strikes one out here, where Indians are terrified of leaving their woman-kind unguarded.

The Trainers and Jockeys’ Stand and changing rooms have been turned into dormitories and a big lounge and a writing room. The bar now sells soft drinks and Ice creams, and the restaurant is the dining room. All these buildings look out across the race course, and on to green lanes and shady trees, with seats under them, so its a delightful spot in which to lounge about. It’s a boon to troops stationed some way out of the town to have somewhere they can sleep and feed for a very moderate sum, when they get their twenty four or forty-eight hours leave. Many of the Indian women have been saying they want to do war work, but they wont sign on for the Wacs or anything where they must put themselves under discipline. It will be a chance for them to show what they are made of when the hostel for the Indian troops starts.

10.5.42 There has been a big cut in the petrol ration for taxis, and all other cars, with the result that we can use our own cars very little, and the taxis have used up their ration by the evening, and there are none to be had after about six o’clock. At dinner the other evening Idris suggested going to a cinema. Not knowing what had happened to the taxis, we sent out for one, and when it did not come, walked out to the gate to see what had happened, and discovered that there were none on the neighbouring stand. Cheerfully we said there was sure to be one on the next stand up a neighbouring street. Still no sign of one, and eventually we walked the whole way to the theatre. It was not unpleasant, but we arrived in rather a dripping condition. This however, soon cured itself in the air-cooled cinema, and walking home with a strong cool wind in our faces was rather nice. I was out last night, and it is most interesting to see the quick result of circumstances. The little old horse-carriages which had retired to the more slummy parts of the town, have furbished themselves up and come out again, and hundreds of rickshaws have come down from the Indian quarter. Rickshaws have only come into Calcutta of comparatively recent years, and have never been adopted by the English residents, but the Indians and Anglo Indians took most kindly to them. Now rows of them are to be seen outside the English cinemas, clubs and hotels. Another interesting development is to see English women, who before the war might easily have told you that they found it too hot to go out to lunch even in a car, in April and May, bicycling along in the mid-day or late afternoon heat, to and from their jobs. A striking contrast between this and any previous war, is the casual way the troops go about in their little forage caps (are those the little soft boat-shaped affairs worn on the side of the head? Anyway, those are what I mean) All M.O.s and C.Os and such would have had fits to see such things fifteen years ago, but we all do it now, and find ourselves none the worse for it in the damp parts of the tropics. I very rarely put a hat on my head at all, or use a sunshade.

One of our young airmen is sick this morning. He had pains in his stomach, but so localized low down on the right that Herbert and I feared it might be appendix. I phoned for the M.O. to come round from the Squadron Hdqts, and he has just been and given his verdict that it is only chill and consequent diarrhoea. I’m glad that it is nothing worse.

Herbert has been feeling tired of an evening, but then he has been doing so much more than he could have accomplished a few weeks ago that we must not be disheartened by it. He has done a lot for the men from Burma who were in the hospital, even to the length of going to the shops and getting clothes for them.

The weather continues to be most strange. It’s still damp and cloudy with temperature going up to about 95°. The great humidity makes it a bit trying, but I dont really think it is as trying as the burning weather we usually get at this time of year, for people who have to be moving about on foot at all hours of the day.

It seems time that we had another mail from England, and certainly time for one from Canada.

This morning I am being rather gay and have promised to meet Rex Fawcus at the Saturday club for a drink while listening to the Sunday morning concert of light music between twelve and one o’clock. I have not seen him for ages.

There is a little “pocket” of anxiety hanging about for all of you now that air raids have started again on England, even though they seem to be on a small scale at the present.

Best love to you all
LJT


From LJT to Annette No 17 (small cut-off from larger sheet)

My darling Annette,

No sooner had I said that it was time we had another mail from home than one appeared, containing your letter no 5 of 9th March. Thank you for it.

A visit from one of our wounded friends who has just been allowed out of hospital, just did in any possibility of writing individual letters to you. Under the circumstances, I don’t think you will grudge the time spent on Mr Brown of the Cameronions. I took him along to the Saturday Club with me to have a drink and a chat with Rex Fawcus. I am particularly delighted with Mr Brown who has refused to be cowed by the Military authorities, and declared stoutly that he would not leave hospital and go to Poona till he had been given money and an opportunity to get some clothes. The arrangements about dealing with these men who have come in with nothing seem to be pretty inefficient.

Sorry! I must go. Will answer your letter during the week

Best love
Mother


Family letter from HPV

Calcutta,
May 10th 1942

My dear Annette (name handwritten)

It has not been altogether my fault that I have been remiss in the writing of letters lately. Somehow Sunday morning to which by rights I should relegate the task has been cluttered up with other activities, such as going to see men in hospital (last week) or attending a meeting about amenities for troops (today, when a talk which would take half an hour according to the convener of it actually lasted for two hours and accomplished nothing).

Things do not go very well for me. It is true that the acid has done much; but it has not done enough to enable me to feel well or to accomplish any great amount of work. I have been dead beat most days and have gradually fallen behind in the matter of files. It is the hot weather of course and so recovery is not easy. But I am disappointed. A new job likely to take a whole morning each week has been thrust upon me and I view the prospect with dismay; for if as things are I am unable to keep up with the rush what hope when my available time is further reduced to this extent?

I had one day that for me is to be accounted as very energetic; it included a sudden call to see the Governor, an hour’s discussion with him first and his secretary afterwards, return to office at 2.30 and an hour’s talk with the Chief Secretary, and a lot of file work at the office afterwards, so that I did not get back here till a quarter to six. Winsome came in and there was talk; when she went off I also, in her car, as far as the hospital where I saw wounded and Joan with me, now that I come to think of it. We walked back. It was blowing a cool breeze and very soon came on to pelt with rain. We were drenched but took no harm.

It has been a sad feature of my weariness that I have been unable to summon up the energy or desire to type. My exercises have lost their charm, though at the end of last week I did set myself the task of cleaning up and shortening some of them, in particular that relating to the marquis which Joan for some reason regards as particularly human.

Looking through the things I find that gradually I have come to omit some words in some of them, so that they no longer cover the complete alphabet. Invention by the way has died away entirely. Strange that not one of you has contributed anything. The puzzle sentences sent me by Rosemary I never used; they were lost by brother Harry apparently, to whom they were lent with the letters.

Those kittens have attained almost to the dignity of cats. Joan remarked that I must no longer speak of them as kittens at all; but as through a sort of Malapropism I usually have referred to them as chickens, this makes no great odds. They lie about the garden under trees and shrubs as gracefully as young nymphs. As wild as young nymphs too, fortunately; otherwise they would by now have been all over the house.

Again we have lodgers. Two more young airmen; not to be compared with Mr. Pannifer who has left us. I remembered his name by calling his Panhandle. An air-raid alarm yesterday morning was confined to our neighbourhood only: some error was responsible for the siren going off. It was a good thing though; for the servants who on previous occasions had followed instructions excellently on this chose to sit out on the verandah and gaze up at the sky.

Yesterday I saw Winsome again. It was in the Red Cross office. I had gone in to tell the Secretary about something and Winsome caught me and took me on a tour of inspection. She has certainly got an admirable system working, though it seems to me not to have enough checks against dishonesty. It was a rush afterwards dealing with office work and I was late for lunch. But I am always late for lunch. It is a nuisance being on so strict a diet that I cannot feed in a restaurant and it is a nuisance not having enough petrol to be able to goback again to office if I come back here in the middle of the day.

I have read a little of the Dame again. it makes me realize how I have but acquaintances strongly rudimentary in the matter of French, to quote the good Robert.

(handwritten note) A letter from you today. Hurrah!

Much love Dad

From LJT to Annette No 18

8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta
May 15th 1942

My darling Annette,

A most welcome envelope, containing a letter from Aunt and your numbers 6 and 7 of the middle and end of March, reached us a couple of days ago. There is a decided touch of spring in your letters. I feel relieved when the longer and warmer days come, for life under the severe winter conditions that prevailed after Christmas, must be a bit grim.

There are a number of things in your letters with which I am most deeply in sympathy. Difficulty in remaining calm in the face of other people’s lack of a time sense, is one of them. Coralie Taylor is like that, though she has quickly schooled herself to be on time for her military duties, which confirmed my belief that the habit of being late is just a form of mental laziness in most cases. My darling Louise Ranken was a terrible sinner in this respect, though on the very last occasion on which I went out with her, she arrived almost half an hour early! The Drakes sound a delightful household, in spite of this small weakness, and it a pleasure to know that you have such good friends to go to. What dreams I have of a home in England to which your friends will be able to come.

Your comments on films so often correspond with my own feelings. “Meet John Doe” had so much that was good and interesting both in idea and in production, but one just could not believe in the latter part of it. I wonder whether Americans really do feel and react differently from us. I was wondering this about an engaging young American of the Ground Staff of the American Air Corps, who came into the hospital into a bed next to one of my Burma friends, so I have adopted him too. He looked the picture of dejection when he arrived and flung himself down on the bed, so I went over and spoke to him. It turned out that he was suffering badly from piles, and had come in for an operation. He is a pretty creature, with large blue eyes and a mop of fair curls, and looks an absolute kid. The next time I saw him he was sleeping after the operation, and looked more of a baby than ever. A few evenings later I visited him, and in about twenty minutes he had told me all about his family and his sweetheart, and produced photos of them all for me to see. I find a great charm about it, but as Herbert says “how un-English”

Its most interesting that you have developed such a fondness for music. It makes me feel all the more guilty that I did not make a bigger effort to give you music when you were young. I suppose its hard to give a thing that you have not got and its not easy to get it from outside in India. A gramaphone would have been the answer, I suppose.

You mention that Betty Bev’ had quite recovered, I had not heard that she had been ill. It will all be ancient history by the time you get this. I like getting an occasional word about that family.

Do you know I had quite got it into my head that Peggy Blain was in Africa. I can well imagine that she finds Australian society a bit narrow in some respects, especially intellectually. It seemed to me that in the Easter Australian cities there is a strong urge growing up for a more music and more books, and more life for the mind generally, but one difficulty is undoubtedly, leisure. With no servants, and labour saving devices not nearly so well developed as they are in America or as they are in New Zealand, as far as I could see, the women do have little spare time. Again, the climate in most parts of Australia encourages the spending of any spare time out of doors.

16.5.42. So much was written before breakfast yesterday. Harry and Winsome came in for tea, and I got a lift from them as far as the hospital, where either Dad or I have been trying to go daily to see a man called Colton, who was one of the group from Burma, but who was suffering from dysentry, and who seems lately to have taken a turn for the worse, and has been running very high temperatures. The doctors cant spot what is wrong with him. I don’t think enough general care is being taken of him, especially of his diet. He counts almost pitifully on our visits, and I have a sort of feeling that they are helping to keep him alive, so I just try not to let anything stand in the way of getting round to see him. One of the tragedies of these lads being ill out here is that they are so far from their own folk, and that there are not nearly enough people visiting the hospitals.

Dicky has been very naughty and has not written to us for ages. Its funny that so many young men say they don’t know what to write about. If they would only keep clear in their minds that their people don’t much mind what they write about, as long as they get some word from them.

Reading your remarks about the spanish edition of the Readers’ Digest, Dad became sad at his own slow progress with French, and bemoaned the fact that he never uses the French records now. Actually he is doing far more than he was a couple of months ago, and has had to attend an awful lot of meetings in connection with things to do with the war. Our governor has a passion for meetings and committees, I am sorry to say, and quite a bit of this fancy of his affects Dad. The mere mention of Spanish reminded us of the delight we took in the first sentence of a Spanish Conversation book in use by a young man on his way to S. America. “His father has the bird” It was shortly followed by “Surely he has spent the night in the restaurent”

Well I must stop driveling on about nothing, and turn to the family letter. Please remember that short comings in my letters these days, mostly mean more time spent on the unfortunate sick and wounded from Burma.

Best love, my dear, and congratulations on your steady work and cheerfulness.

Mother


Family letter from LJT No 18 (not in AMT’s set of letters - this version typed by Joan Webb)

8 Theatre Rd, Calcutta
May 16, 1942

My Dears,

The tragedy of Burma gets closer and closer to us. I see so many people who have just come through on foot and by boat, and many more must have been left behind. Most of them are astonishingly brave, but some can’t help dwelling on all they have lost, and expressing their fears for the future. I feel especially sad when quite old men come to us, saying they are sure they can be of use in some capacity, and one has to turn them down.
Robin Hutchings, the Indian Civil Service man who has been representing the Government of India in Burma for some years, was over here for a couple of days, and had dinner with us last night. He has had the sad job of superintending the arrangements for evacuation, and has flown back today to go on with the work. The rest camps in Burma have been most difficult to run. I daresay the ones on the Indian side have not been easy. Tea-planters and their wives have done nobly at this work, and the refugees who have been cared for by them speak most warmly of the ungrudging service they are giving.
Work and looking after the sick in hospital have been the main interests and activities for me this week. On Sunday morning one of our wounded friends rang up to ask whether he might come round to thank us before going off to Poona. He is an amusing Scotchman, who had behaved in a way of which I thoroughly approve. When told by the head of the British Military Hospital that he was to leave for Poona that night, he protested that in spite of all appeals, he had not been provided with clothes or money, and could not travel until he was provided with both. The colonel had to give in, and our friend did not go till Sunday. Before leaving, he had one of these astonishing meetings with a friend he had thought to be dead. At the office of the Field Cashier, where he went to get his pay, a man standing next him noticed that he signed “Cameronians” after his name. “Do you know so-and-so?” he asked. “Yes” said Mr. Brown, “but I am afraid the poor chap was finished in South Burma.” “No, indeed”, came the reply. “He is in my army truck just across the road”. Mr. Brown hurried out, found his friend, and they spent the evening together. The story has all the elements of the adventure stories of our youth.
Another story involves five men who made their way from South Burma, through forests and over mountains, for weeks, almost starving most of the time, and often having to lie in bushes or climb up trees to avoid being seen by the Japs, who seemed to be everywhere. At one time they staved off starvation by killing a pie-dog and roasting it. Eventually they got a small country boat and made their way up the coast to a small island near Akyab, and from there “friendly natives” took messages from them to Akyab. Only one of the group of men from Burma whom we befriended is still in the hospital, and he is more sick than wounded. He has been suffering from dysentery, and during the last few days he has developed high temperature and some sort of glandular fever, but what it is the doctors can’t spot at present. The poor fellow is very ill, I fear, and he has come to count on our visits as the one brightish spot in his day. Herbert and I have been trying to go, one or other of us, each evening to see him and take him some little delicacies in the way of food. The hospital diet is singularly uninspiring. One of the things I admire about this man is that he is fretting to get back to his men in Burma, instead of being thankful he is out of the mess.
We also picked a funny young American lad who arrived one evening when we were at the hospital, looking the very picture of dejection. I went to talk to him, and asked him what was wrong. “Waaell”, he said, “I’ve got piles very badly, and I will probably have to have an operation.” That’s all over now, and he looks the picture of health. He is US Air Corps ground staff, and his job is loading bombs into the big bombers. He has large blue eyes, and a mop of fair curls, and looks about eighteen, but he tells me he is twenty-one. He quickly told me all his family history, and showed me pictures of his father and mother, brothers and sisters and his sweetheart. Maybe he will spend a few days here when he comes out of hospital, before he goes back to work.
Work in our new offices is quieting down, but is not yet complete. We are appreciating the extra space. It’s much easier for everyone to work satisfactorily. Idris said he thought my name ought to be on a board outside the door like his is, and the idea was heartily backed by the Officer Supervisor, so a smart black board has been painted with my name, and looks most superior.
I almost forgot to tell you one of the exciting things of the week. A telegram came from Tim Bevington last Sunday, saying that he had arrived safely at the Officers Training School. On Monday a letter from him arrived. It had been written on board ship and posted just before the ship berthed. He reported a good voyage. I hope he will be able to get across to this part of India some time.
Letters of the 17th and 23rd of March from Annette, and the 27th March from Grace, reached us a couple of days ago. The English mails have been both quicker and more regular lately. It’s good to hear from home that the great cold had passed. It must have been a trying time for all of you.
Later: We continue to have rather strange weather like a break in the rains, and not in the least like the ordinary Indian Hot Weather. I have been out to the Hospital, and spent nearly two hours there. The man whose fever has been so bad, seemed distinctly better today, and was inclined to talk at some length. He told me a very long but most interesting history of fighting right up through Burma. A nasty time most of those men have been through, though they speak of it philosophically. Herbert and Idris went off to the 6 o’clock pictures, to see “Louisiana Purchase”. ‘Good in parts’ was the verdict, but oh so bad in others, and much too much of it.
Our clocks have all been put back to Indian Standard Time this week. The army apparently found it difficult to remember that Bengal time was an hour ahead of Standard or Delhi, time. It is tiresome readjusting ourselves to a new set of hours, and a nuisance losing the extra hour of daylight in the evenings. Many offices are working earlier, so as to allow the staff to get home by daylight. Our office opens at 8:30, and Idris, Mr. Hughes (who lives just round the corner) leave here just after eight, as we like to be there before the clerks. Theoretically we are to leave earlier, but there is a strong tendency to stay on and finish up jobs.
One of our airmen lodgers went off yesterday. The other is still here, but expects to get moved next week. They are quiet lads, but rather dull, except for accounts of things they have seen and done. The one who has gone had to bale out in Libya, and walked back to a road over sand desert, with no compass, no food and worst of all, no water, for three days, or rather nights, for he walked at night steering by the stars. There is a good deal of absurd mixed conversation going on at mealtimes between Coralie Taylor, Idris, Herbert and myself. These two lads don’t seem to have the slightest ability to join in talk of that sort. They can only talk if directly addressed, and on some special subject. I wonder whether they think we are a bit crazy! One of them will never have the dessert plate and finger bowl put in front of him, which worries the servants dreadfully. Idris’ old white-bearded bearer made a strenuous attempt to slip one in quickly, but the boy waved it away. The other evening I heard old Budoo rambling away in his beard to Mogul on the verandah. I am sure he was saying “What sort of a sahib is this, who doesn’t know that finger bowls are put in front of everybody!”
Our nice John Pennifer writes that the new American plane which he is now flying, and which he did not fancy at all before he went, is actually most attractive.
Herbert is busier than usual, for there are such an awful lot of meetings about things connected with the war. He has been pretty tired on several evenings, but he has been doing about twice as much as he would have been capable of a few weeks ago. His indigestion has been distinctly less troublesome. As I was awake well before five o’clock this morning, and it is now past ten, I’m a bit sleepy and I shall say goodnight and go off to bed. Best love, LJT

My darling Romey, (at bottom of family letter)

There have been so many people in today that I have had no time to write you a special letter. This week you were last on the list. I try to take turns over which letters are written first, second, third and fourth, as the last ones often get hurried. We are still hoping for letters from Canada. I feel envious of Renard Bos, the young American who was in today, for he had just got a big mail from his home in the State of Washington. I wonder whether it came the same way that yours does.
Give my love to Helen and tell her that I am reading “Ariel and All His Quality”, and that though some of the matter of the book was interesting, I find the style tiresome and dull.

Love,
Mother


Family letter from HPV

Calcutta,
May 17th 1942.

My dear Annette (name handwritten)

Something extraordinary because unaccustomed (I quote La Dame) has happened this morning: I am writing before breakfast. It is the result of the confusion of times, worse maybe than the confusion of tongues at Babel, that has followed the reversion to standard time. The Bengal time, one hour earlier than standard and about half an hour earlier than sun, had the merit of releasing people from office before dusk and of allowing a great saving of electricity and so of coal. But it mean confusion between Delhi and Calcutta and the Army could not abide it. We are in a transition stage. Office hours have been advanced but times fixed for cases and the like cannot be. But the confusion today that has inspired my early rising is simply that Joan ordered breakfast half an hour later than we have had it these last two days.

Further confusion and the breakdown of my typing is due to a roaring though intermittent wind that sets the paper bulging on the typewriter; the holder is none too efficient. I have gone back to the earliest exercises in the book and have actually worked through four or five of them. Pretty to see last night how even and how accurate was the work produced! I might have known that there would be a reaction this day.

Work continues to bulk large. I was not able to get to the meetings at which lectures were given on agreeable humus. Perhaps I failed to say in my recent letters that I was asked to lecture on the subject to interested journalists (of course there are none such; it is a contradiction in terms) and indignantly put the organizers on to Dr. Harler who is an expert and Mr. Watson who has done a lot and from whom I learnt myself such things as I know. Naturally they could not resist the temptation to lose sight of the object in view and to have a weary succession of political speeches by Ministers and the like; so the humus lectures were swamped in tripe on each of the two days fixed for them. On the first, having heard that there would be a tea-party, an exhibition and introductory speeches, I simply refused to go; I lack the strength for a function that lasts two hours. The second I simply forgot but it so happened that I was suddenly called down to the Secretariat for a conference about labour for aerodromes and could not have gone anyhow. The upshot is that I have a strong feeling of guilt.

Twice I have been to harass or to comfort the wounded in Hospital. It seems strange that I can in any way give them pleasure by my talk, which is dull; but at least I listen to their telling of their symptoms. Some of which are horrid. I should like to edify them by telling them what mine were like in the past; but I have refrained.

Idris Matthews is quite upset about the departure of the fledgling sparrow that for a few days adopted him and sat on the shoulder of him, while he was in his bath. It must have crept under a curtain and escaped through the slit in a jhilmil: unless as is possible his surly old servant decided that things would more easily be kept clean if the sparrow were elsewhere or even nowhere.

Instead of going to the Hospital yesterday evening I was removed by Idris to the movies; legs mostly. I like legs maybe but not on movies or not in such profusion; and I dislike young women who throw off their skirts and indulge in negroid belly-twistings. Why should the movy-directors assume that such things will please? to be honest, they pleased the troops.

It is a feature of each Sunday morning that I read the Jokes in the Amrita Bazar Patrika; American mostly. This sort of thing:- “Is your wife as pretty as ever?” “Yes. But it takes her longer.” Merriment and whatnot greeted this. No; it isn’t funny and I do not myself know why I have mentioned. Except that it is the sort of thing that made Brother Roy laugh when young.

Brother Harry came in to tea two evenings ago; highly agreeable discourse. But very soon I was summoned to the Secretariat as mentioned above and so lost the benefit of it. He has been considering a work on the finer points of Morrison’s book on golf, to put the author right on them perhaps; and also spoke of the need for a brief summary of the whole thing. It would all go on a half sheet of notepaper, so if H.D. made his summary the people who had bought the book at a great price might realize that they had been diddled and lose pleasure in it. But this argument did not impress him as worth much.

Much love
Dad

Family letter from LJT  No 19

8 Theatre Rd.  Calcutta.

May 23rd 1942

My Dears,

Heat!  Damp, damp, heat! has been our portion this week.  The temperatures have been up at 108° on several days, combined with saturation point of humidity, which makes a most trying combination.  One woman said to me that she had no idea the human frame could go on producing moisture at such a rate.  One never stopped sweating from morning till night.  For two days it got better, but I think its almost as bad again to-day.  However there are signs of an early monsoon, so perhaps it wont be long before the rains break and bring relief.  We should not complain, for till a short time ago, the hot weather had been very mild.  In honour of the heat, I have taken to drinking iced tea instead of hot tea when I come from office in the afternoons.

The result of the change in the time, and the orders that work is to start at 8.30 a.m. has had the result for us of putting about an hour’s work on to the day.  Actually we have given up trying to leave the house at 8 and start at 8.15, so that we get to the office by 8.20, and so set a good example to the office staff.  We are still very busy chiefly with people who have come in from Burma.

Most evenings we have visited the hospital.  The young American Reynard Bos (known as Ray) was discharged from hospital on Monday, and his C.O. Lieutenant Barnett, with whom I had a conversation over the phone, fully agreed that the boy should have six days leave before going back to work.  “Weal Ma’m, its sure real kind of you to have him stay with you.  He shouldn’t come back to work before he feels quite strong.”.  The method seems distinctly different from English Army methods.  We presume Lieutenant (pronounced in full just as it is spelt) Barnett knows his man, and that he will not shirk.  Ray is of pure Dutch descent.  His father and mother went out from Holland in 1905.  They have a big mixed farm in the State of Washington at the foot of the Cascade Range.  It must be lovely country from what he tells me.  California, he says “is too tinkered up by men and too full of people.  Now Oregon and Washington, they’re just Nature and they’re fine.”  Herbert and Idris say that he is so simple that he does not understand half we talk about, but he likes crops and horses and cows and mountains, all things I am fond of, so I find plenty to talk about with him.  I like his naive way of telling about himself and his family.  In spite of simplicity, he gives quite a vivid impression of life on a Washington farm.  He came here on Monday and will probably go back to DumDum to-morrow.

Our second R.A.F. lodger is still here, but as dull and uncommunicative as ever.  I think he is due to leave t-morrow too.  It must be strange to be as unfriendly as he is.  What a poor return he must get out of life!

We still visit the hospital fairly frequently.  The poor man who was so ill, Mr Colton, is much better.  He is devouring books at a great rate.  He was enthusiastic about Ron’s “Salween”.  I asked him the other day what he does in the real life outside the war.  He is a detective, which rather intrigues me, for I have never met one before.  This possibly explains the exceptionally clear account he gave me of his experiences during the retreat through Burma.  I suppose he is used to collecting a lot of detached incidents, and putting them into form.  As the wounded men from Burma have cleared off, we have adopted various others, including several men who were badly wounded in the bombing of ships in the Bay of Bengal some weeks ago.  I wish I had a little more time and that there were more women here with a little leisure, so that we could get the hospital visiting put on to a proper basis.

My old friend Reggie Cooke, who was for so long Chairman of the Eastern Section of the Himalayan Club, spent part of last Sunday evening with me.  He is an Engineer in the Telegraphs Dept. ordinarily, but joined up and became a Lieut-Col.  He was recently sent down here as O.C. Communications, a welcome case of a round peg in a round hole.  He has been working desperately hard since he arrived in Barrackpore, sleeping in his office, and working all the time he was not sleeping or eating.  On the evening of Sunday last, he was on his way to Ranchi for a few days, and put in a couple of hours here to see me, and hear all the news of the Club.  He is one of the keenest of mountaineers.

Herbert and I took our two young guests to the pictures one evening at 6 o’clock.  It was one of the fearfully hot days, and it was worth a good deal to spend two hours or more in a cool place, though the film “Sullivan’s Travels” was not very good.

Best love

LJT


From LJT to Annette No 19

8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta
May 24th 1942

Darling Annette,

My letter to Aunt will tell you of the woolen materials which I hope will reach you in due course, and make up into something useful.

Studying my two young men guests makes me wonder about education. The silent young man, when he does speak, gives indications of interest in things outside his own orbit, but still limited to some extent by what might effect him. For instance he evinced an interest in Australia, but it was not just academic. It was definitely collecting information with an idea that Australia might be a possible place to go to. Ray Bos is just frankly lost outside his own sphere. Inside his own experience, he is keen and reasonably intelligent, and he can deal with subjects that he can in some way hang on to what he has known. Directly it becomes a matter of grasping a thing by the mind and imagination, he sits back with wide open eyes, and says nothing! I suppose a farmer’s life makes for this kind of slow knowledge gained by actual contact with concrete problems, and that he, in common with many others, has never been trained to think about things, or be interested in things, which are not his immediate business.

25.5.42. Tea arrived yesterday, and afterwards Idris, Ray and I went to the Zoo, where we spent a pleasant evening. Ray was at home and happy with the animals. Instead of going straight home, we drove via the Maidan where certain works of interest are taking place, and then dropped into the U.S. Club for a drink. Idris had been trying to get someone to go to the pictures with him for days, so I said I would after dinner, and we saw “Joan of Paris”. It was reasonably good, and I quite enjoyed it, but I do wish producers would not let silly little details that are not important to the plot, and are obviously absurd. In this the Free French airman who has had to bail out in France, and is being shadowed, sticks to his identity disc right through.

Must run to breakfast and then office!

Best love
Mother


Family letter from HPV

Calcutta,
May 24th 1942.

My dear Annette (handwritten name)

Much might be written about the heat; for after a long period during which it was possible to say that really there had not been any Hot Weather this year it has suddenly changed to the sultriest of hot days. 108 according to the papers; it is nothing like that in this house, but feels as if it were.

Vitality has ruled low and feelings have run high during this period; it is over for the time being. Yesterday as we were returning from the hospital a sharp-edged great black cloud swept up in the north west and at once a dust storm came down on us; blinding and dirtying the ears. No rain here but later it turned cool. (82 degrees minimum)

The four kittens are earning their keep by a sort of rodeo in the garden, or it might be called a strenuous ballet unless a better description is all-in wrestling and skipping. Most charming and graceful to see. Eliciting the comment that heaven knows what would happen when they put all that energy into the production of more kittens. We dare not think of the probable increase in our cat-population.

Among other animal inhabitants of the compound whose activity is worthy of note I number the crow: otherwise undistinguished it gave today a demonstration of climbing spiral staircases. The modus operandi is to sit on the railing, leap in the air, turn while leaping and come down facing the other way a few inches higher up: then repeat in reverse. Most comely and pleasing to the onlooker.

The dhirzie has found a use for tiger skins displayed on walls; the stuffed head is attached to such and in the open mouth are the great teeth. He has discovered that these teeth are just right for hanging dresses on while he is working on others, and the drawing room at the time when we are expected to be out, is thus adorned.

Meetings multiply upon me; I am chairman or member of any number of committees in Calcutta and the approach of war has led to the holding of special meetings as well as to longer meetings generally. The Red Cross for instance of which I was told that one meeting a month of maybe one hour was all that would be needed of me as Chairman of the Joint War Committee has had two meetings of two hours each during this last fortnight and there have been discussions (most unsatisfactory) with H.E. as well as frequent visits and a good deal of letter-drafting in the office. The Zoo has had three meetings recently and there is to be a fourth in a couple of days time; it is threatened with practical extinction or bankruptcy. We had to shoot or give away all the carnivores, some very valuable: the elephants have been dispatched to North Bengal. This has reduced the attractiveness of the Zoo to the ordinary visitor who does not realize that the other exhibits are really more interesting if one gets down to looking at them. Anyhow, the number of visitors had already fallen off by 80% and our income with it though not so greatly.

We continue to visit the hospital fairly often. It is an endless process for as one set of men moves out we are led to take interest in others who have come in; not wounded from Burma, but merchant seamen bombed by the Japs in the Bay.

A strange thing has been my going to the movies twice. With Idris last Saturday and with the troop on another day. Movies usually fill me with gloom; legs and laughter but the laughter does not come too easily. If only they would cut out half of each film as soon as they had decided that it had been made perfect, it might become so or almost so. Yesterday I resisted proposals by Idris that I should go with him to see a film and went to the Hospital instead.

I reverted to some slight study of paddy cultivation costs and roused my own indignation by analyzing the evidence given before the Rice and Paddy Committee about them. Even I.C.I which one would expect to show common sense made puerile efforts to seem wise on matters about which it had no real information, repeating scraps out of the Agricultural Dept.’s reports without examining their real meaning, and made gross errors in consequence.

Much love
Dad

(handwritten to Romey) You have my sympathies in your wishing to be doing something towards the war. But obviously you should push through with the University first. And I should have thought that there was no less to be done in Canada now than in England.


From LJT to Annette No 20.

8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
May 31st 1942.

My darling Annette,

The family letter did not get started yesterday evening, owing to a variety of things. Some of my cotton dresses, the plain “tub frock” things, are getting worn and washed out, so I had to make up my mind to get three lengths of stuff I had by me, made up. The Dhirzie came just as we were sitting down to tea at 5 p.m., and had to wait. Then he thought rather poorly of me for having no “books”. I find it difficult to give any thought to clothes these days, but I took a hold on myself, and gave directions about style etc. my chief point being that the garments must be as easy as possible to get into, and not entail pulling a tight neck aperture over the head and fastening buttons down the back.

These little chamber concerts that Mrs Blank is getting up at her house, are very pleasant things. This time we had a Mozart Sonata for two pianos, which I did not know at all, but which is a charming thing. Unfortunately Mrs Blank, though she has beautiful technique, lacks soul or temperament or something, and so her playing does not move one. The other two items were a group of duets from “L’Enfant Prodigue” and “Lakme” sung by the Dutch musical director of the Broadcasting Co who has a most beautiful voice, and a French ex-opera singer, now married to an Indian, who also has a fine voice, but a little too big for even a large room. She, by contrast to Mrs Blank, is about 75% temperament. I was talking to her in the interval, and asked her if she ever sang any of the things from Mozart’s opera’s. “Mozart and I do not get on very well to-gether” she said, “He is too quiet for me”. Probably the nicest item of the evening, was the last, a Brahms Quintette, beautifully played. It is familiar to me, but I cant tell; you anything about opus and number. These small concerts are just about the right length and the right time for this weather and for people who have been working all day. They last from 7 till about 8.45, so that one can get dinner by 9 o’clock, and go to bed in good time.

Our new R.A.F. lodger, Mr Frazer, is fond of France and French films. Discussing film topics the other day, we discovered that he was in Dinard in 1937 at the same time as we were and saw “Pepe le Moko” at that same funny cinema, with the interminable first half, and the man and woman who went on remembering figures, until we could have screamed! Do you remember? We began to find our little American protege rather a burden, for he could not talk unless the conversation was definitely kept in his channels, and at his pace, which was that of the tortoise. I hope he has not been too bored here. Luckily the R.A.F. boy Page, who is also here on leave, took him out with him a good bit. Every evening after dinner they used to go off the to lounge of the Grand Hotel which has become the sort of Charing Cross of the East. Everyone seems to turn up there sooner or later. Mr Colton, our Detective friend from the Hospital, said he went there for tea after the cinema on Friday, and in the course of about an hour, he met men who had come out on the same ship with him, men whom he had met during his brief stay in India on the way to Burma, and men he had last seen worming way through Burmese jungles, or lying in Burmese ditches. I had meant to ask Mr Colton how he became a dective and why, but we talked so much about Burma. There is a chance that he may not have gone off to poona last night, in which case he will probably turn up here again to-day.

In the few odd minutes before I go to sleep or before dinner, I am reading the “Seagull” out of my book of Chekov Plays. Its one I have never seen. I find myself constantly saying “How human” and “How Russian” but I am not sure that I can find a definite border between the two.

We are hoping for letters again soon. Its simply ages since we had any from Canada.

Best love, my dear
From
Mother


Family letter from LJT No 20

8 Theatre Rd. Calcutta.
May 31st 1942

My Dears,

Last Evening I got one Air Mail letter from England (From Kitty Jenkins) so I am hoping that perhaps there will be some from the family to-day. Tim Bevington has written an amusing letter giving some of his first impressions in India, and an account of a shoot on which he got a wild boar. He writes a good letter. When his course is finished, I hope he will be posted to a regiment somewhere on this side of India and be able to spend a few days with us.

Our dull R.A.F. lodger left on Monday and a nice lad called Frazer came in his place. This boy is working in the Hdqts office at the moment, and is of quite a different class to his predecessor. He is evidently accustomed to the sort of absurd talk in which Herbert and Idris indulge, and is ready to aid and abet it. On Tuesday just before dinner, a lad who had been here before, Page, phoned to say he had just arrived back in Calcutta for ten days leave, and might he come back to us, so he is here. The American lad is also still with us, but leaves to-day. He developed a terribly heavy cold last week-end, which set him back a bit, so his C.O. told him to take a few more days leave. He does not talk much unless one definitely sets out to draw him out on the few subjects with which he is familiar. I could not have kept him longer than to-day, for Coralie Taylor returns to-morrow, and he has been occupying her room while she was on leave in Darjeeling.

The result of starting work an hour earlier, is that we most of us do an hour’s more work in the day. You see the whole of the city’s life has not been pushed forward, and so our candidates still come in after 4.30, in fact, owing to the great heat, tend to do so more than ever, and many evenings I dont leave the office till nearly 5.30. We certainly are much more comfortable in our new quarters. Its particularly nice having our clerks in a room of their own, instead of in a huge hall crammed with clerks from other sections as well. We are still getting a great many people from Burma, but that stream is bound to dry up soon, so we have just got a sanction to take on a good many people for posts which would normally require to be filled in Sept, in June, and draft them to factories already in production, “for Training”. This may have an additional advantage, that it may make it possible for men who have been working for years without a break, to take short holidays, or work rather shorter hours. I am constantly struck anew by the cheerfulness and courage of most of the people we see.

The hospital has seen little of me this week, for something seems to have occurred each evening to keep me away. Idris, Reynard Boss and I went to the Zoo on Sunday evening, and the American boy was as happy as a lark there. He is interested in animals and knows how to get on with them. There are so few visitors at the Zoo these days that the animals are attentive to those who do go, hoping for tit-bits. Herbert did go to the Hospital that evening, for he said he felt too tired for the Zoo. After dinner, Idris and I went to see a film “Joan of Paris”. It was not really very good. One could pick lots of holes in it, but I enjoyed it all the same.

On Monday Idris and I had a date to go and have drinks with a friend of ours whose husband and has gone to the army, so she has taken on the tiny flat that used to belong to Anina Brandt. It seemed odd to be in it without Anina, but Elsa Bartley had half a dozen amusing people there, and she herself is very good company, so we enjoyed ourselves. Another woman whom I have enrolled as a hospital visitor, was there on Monday, so I did not feel guilty, but I had made up my mind to go on Tuesday. Fate ruled otherwise. A message was waiting for me at home, saying that two R.A.F. men who wanted to go for a trek from Darjeeling, had been recommended by a member of the Himalayan Club, to come and ask advice from me. Just as I was sitting down to tea at about 5.40, they arrived. One was a New Zealander and the other an Australian, both very nice men, and we had a great evening helping them make their plans, writing notes of introduction for them and getting out equipment to lend them. We are glad of any chance to return some of the hospitality we received in N.Z. and Australia.

On Wednesday I said to myself that Nothing must prevent me going up to the hospital. No sooner had I sat down to tea, than the servants said “A Sahib is giving salaams”. There was a sound of heavy feet on the stairs, and there was Mr. Colton, the man whom we regarded as our special charge in the hospital. He is the one who has been so ill with dysentery and fever. I had not thought that he would be out of bed for another week, and personally I dont think he should have been, at least only to walk about in the ward, or be taken for a short drive. As it was, he had been allowed out after lunch at the very hottest time of the day. He had had the sense to spend his afternoon in an air-conditioned cinema, but did a little shopping afterwards, and looked a bit tired by the time he reached our house. By the time he had tea and talked a little, we realized that he had missed supper at the hospital. We hastily had a meal concocted for him, and sent him off in a taxi, and the next day, he told us that he went in by the fire escape and was in bed before anybody noticed his return! He came the next day again, with leave to have dinner with us, and yesterday he turned up at lunch time, and came back to tea, and to say good-bye, for he is being sent over to Poona to go before a medical board. For some strange reason, which is not apparant to the lay intellect, all the sick and wounded from Calcutta, are being sent across India, a journey which is extremely trying when one is in the best of health during the hot months, to be sorted out at Poona and in most cases allowed to go on sick leave, having by that time traveled considerably further from the Himalayas and the Hill Stations, than they were in Calcutta! It would be interesting to know who made the plan and why. Presumably it must have been someone who has never traveled across India in the month of May.

There was another of those nice little chamber music concerts in a private house, in aid of war funds, before dinner on Friday, so Walter Jenkins and I went along to it, and to dinner at the Saturday Club afterwards. Its nice to hear a little good music now and again, and a pleasant change to have dinner at the Saturday Club, where the dining- room is delightfully cool, and the food very nice. Cool places are much in demand, for its still very hot, though not quite as bad as the previous week. We have had one or two storms, followed by cool evenings and nights, and we know that every day brings the monsoon nearer.

Idris had an important anniversary this week. He achieved his half century of age, but says he does not at all like to be reminded of it. I could not arrange anything to celebrate it, such as cake and candles, for I did not know till the actual day, and anyhow we were too busy.

With the R.A.F. and American Army Bombers bombing Burma every night, Calcutta has settled down to a much more comfortable atmosphere. It is not that we think danger is past, but that we are much better prepared to meet it, and that we have got used to the feeling that we have a cunning enemy on our doorstep, just as you have done. We have got used to seeing the town full of khaki (Even the air-force wear khaki shorts or slacks and bush shirts, their only bit of blue being their caps.) The place has adjusted itself to the circumstances, and done its best to provide hostels and canteens, and to place tennis courts at the disposal of men stationed in the neighbourhood. Whisky, even the Indian brands, is no longer obtainable in the shops (to my delight, I may say.) beer is so difficult to get and so expensive that most people have given up keeping it in the house. Clubs and Hotels still have fairly good stocks of these things it seems, though the Saturday Club has limited the hours at which the bar is open, and the United Service Club has rationed its members to four small whiskeys and one bottle of beer per day. All this I consider very good for us, for I always regard alcohol as great waste of money.

As for food, we only feel the slightest inconvenience. Soon it will be definitely difficult to get produce from overseas, I suppose, and people will have to learn to do with what is produced in the country, but that again will do us no harm.

Herbert is much as usual. He has been bothered by having to prepare a speech to deliver at a meeting of village “fathers”, which took place yesterday. I was out there to hear him, but he always speaks well. His health is keeping just fair enough for him to carry on, one cant say much more, and it must make life hard for him.

OH! Harry and Winsome came in to tea with us on Thursday, and we were so delighted to see them. Winsome was about to go to Simla for a fortnight to see Charlotte. The change will do her good, for she has been working very hard.

Best love to you all
LJT

No 20 To Romey May 31st, 1942
(short note at end of family letter)

My darling Romey,

It’s ages and ages since we had letters from you. I wonder what has happened to them all. I hope they are not lost and that we shall get a terrific bunch at the same time.
At the moment I am feeling singularly blank. There was no time to start the family letter yesterday, so I have done it this morning, as well as quite a long one to Annette, and a couple of others. It’s very hot, and I’ve got that rather addled feeling in the head, which cause a sort of stoppage of the flow of thought.
It is a comfort to think that our army, or most of it, is out of Burma, as announced in the newspapers during the last few days. The last days of a retreat must be terribly tragic, and it is maddening to think of the Japs in possession. The comfort is that they are getting a good bit of bombing every night, and are likely to get more, and we hope in the not too distant future, a good drubbing.
We have been very, very busy in office. Luckily working hard seems to agree with me, and I don’t feel tired, at least not often and not at all unreasonably so. I do like to have a leisurely hour when I come in, drinking iced tea, and reading the evening paper and talking to Dad. After that I am quite restored for further activities.
Before tea yesterday (Saturday) I thought I would have a nice Cold bath, but I had not taken the precaution to have cool water run into the bath tub in the morning, so when I put my foot water I had run in, it was hot, very hot! I was quite discouraged by this, though after years in India, I ought to have remembered it clearly enough.

Best love darling,
Mother