them. Youâre really getting a big girl â and who is this fellow Mark who is taking such an interest in you? Full details please. The mouth organ sounds like a great attraction.
Sorry I wasnât with you to have a slice of that cake. Rations or no rations, Mum obviously did well. Our rations here are awful. I wonât go into details, but Iâm always hungry. Everything we eat has to come down that winding road from Dimapur which I described to you earlier. Sometimes the ration wagon rolls over the cliffside. Then we go short. The chaps in my tent talk about cooking up rats, and swear that rats and canned Indian peas taste good â but thatâs just to impress the newcomer in their midst, I hope.
Forgive this awful colour ink â all I could find.
Rumours abound. We are at last about to move forward into action. So they tell us.
âI heard the Captain say
Weâre going to move today.
I only hope the blinking sergeant-major knows the way â¦â
This camp, now so familiar, is temporary. Everything is temporary along the Dimapur road. Maybe one day they will let it allrevert to jungle. The airâs so fresh and good here and Iâm secretly so excited.
Itâs not only the air thatâs fresh. Soâs the water. Washing is quite an adventure. I wish I could draw. Facilities are just about nil at Milestone 81. Our only place to wash is at the mouth of a huge cast-iron pipe which snakes down the hillside and terminates here at a concrete base. The pipe vibrates with power and water gushes forth, splashing everywhere. In order to wash, you have to strip off entirely and then fling yourself into the stream. Itâs like jumping in front of a cannon! Itâs easiest to take the full force of the water smack in the chest â difficult to do because slippery green algae grow on the ever-wet concrete.
The waterâs freezing cold. Itâs come down from five thousand feet in a great hurry. Soaping is mighty difficult. However, my hardened campaigner friends tell me that it could be the last running water weâll see for months. (Theyâre ever optimistic.)
Weâve just been issued with new chemical stuff called DDT. Weâve had to dip our shirts in it and run the liquid along the seams of our trousers. This will prevent lice and other nasty things at a time when it looks as if we shall be unable to wash clothes for months at a stretch.
You see what a funny life your brother leads. Itâs better than school. And to toughen us up, weâve been made to climb down into the valley and back, with kit. I tried to get a piggy-back off one of the Naga women, but no luck. We canât climb the mountain above us, because thatâs where the Nagas live and they must not be disturbed.
Yours till the cows come home.
Manipur, I think
20th Dec. 1944
My dear Ellen,
Guess what? Itâs Christmas Day! Yes, 20th December.
The world has done one of its marvellous changes. Everything is different. Iâm different. Iâm rolling forward into ACTION.Imagine! This green and dusty world is slipping towards jungle warfare â¦
We knew something was up on the fifteenth and sixteenth. Our unit on that day had its collective haircut. Werenât knights of old shriven before battle? Shriven and shorn? Well, at least weâve been shorn.
Ahead of us lie danger and a desperate land full of terrors and destitute of barbers â¦
The very next day â we packed up everything and started rolling forward. A whole division, 2 Div, moving to our forward positions before the actual assault.
At the last minute, the CO addressed us, gave us a briefing. âYou will all be proud to fight for king and country â¦â He doesnât know his men. But he concluded by quoting Shakespeare:
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap while any speaks
That fought with us upon St
Sorry I wasnât with you to have a slice of that cake. Rations or no rations, Mum obviously did well. Our rations here are awful. I wonât go into details, but Iâm always hungry. Everything we eat has to come down that winding road from Dimapur which I described to you earlier. Sometimes the ration wagon rolls over the cliffside. Then we go short. The chaps in my tent talk about cooking up rats, and swear that rats and canned Indian peas taste good â but thatâs just to impress the newcomer in their midst, I hope.
Forgive this awful colour ink â all I could find.
Rumours abound. We are at last about to move forward into action. So they tell us.
âI heard the Captain say
Weâre going to move today.
I only hope the blinking sergeant-major knows the way â¦â
This camp, now so familiar, is temporary. Everything is temporary along the Dimapur road. Maybe one day they will let it allrevert to jungle. The airâs so fresh and good here and Iâm secretly so excited.
Itâs not only the air thatâs fresh. Soâs the water. Washing is quite an adventure. I wish I could draw. Facilities are just about nil at Milestone 81. Our only place to wash is at the mouth of a huge cast-iron pipe which snakes down the hillside and terminates here at a concrete base. The pipe vibrates with power and water gushes forth, splashing everywhere. In order to wash, you have to strip off entirely and then fling yourself into the stream. Itâs like jumping in front of a cannon! Itâs easiest to take the full force of the water smack in the chest â difficult to do because slippery green algae grow on the ever-wet concrete.
The waterâs freezing cold. Itâs come down from five thousand feet in a great hurry. Soaping is mighty difficult. However, my hardened campaigner friends tell me that it could be the last running water weâll see for months. (Theyâre ever optimistic.)
Weâve just been issued with new chemical stuff called DDT. Weâve had to dip our shirts in it and run the liquid along the seams of our trousers. This will prevent lice and other nasty things at a time when it looks as if we shall be unable to wash clothes for months at a stretch.
You see what a funny life your brother leads. Itâs better than school. And to toughen us up, weâve been made to climb down into the valley and back, with kit. I tried to get a piggy-back off one of the Naga women, but no luck. We canât climb the mountain above us, because thatâs where the Nagas live and they must not be disturbed.
Yours till the cows come home.
Manipur, I think
20th Dec. 1944
My dear Ellen,
Guess what? Itâs Christmas Day! Yes, 20th December.
The world has done one of its marvellous changes. Everything is different. Iâm different. Iâm rolling forward into ACTION.Imagine! This green and dusty world is slipping towards jungle warfare â¦
We knew something was up on the fifteenth and sixteenth. Our unit on that day had its collective haircut. Werenât knights of old shriven before battle? Shriven and shorn? Well, at least weâve been shorn.
Ahead of us lie danger and a desperate land full of terrors and destitute of barbers â¦
The very next day â we packed up everything and started rolling forward. A whole division, 2 Div, moving to our forward positions before the actual assault.
At the last minute, the CO addressed us, gave us a briefing. âYou will all be proud to fight for king and country â¦â He doesnât know his men. But he concluded by quoting Shakespeare:
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap while any speaks
That fought with us upon St
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