Tropical Headgear? Sepia Saturday

No information was given on this week's Sepia Saturday prompt photograph.  A man in a tall straw hat, with a basket on his back  -  I had no idea what he was doing with that pole or where he was  - a tropical setting perhaps?  I have focused on the hat, as in a small way, it reminded me of the only wartime photograph of my father in his tropical uniform. 

Dad (John P. Weston)  often talked about his war time  experiences. when he served in the RAF, in a Special Liaison Unit, Codes and Ciphers. I am afraid it did often provoke the reaction “Not the war again, Dad”. We also used to joke about him being in the Intelligence Branch.  It was only later that we came to realise what a life-defining period it had been  and I asked him to write down his memories, all be it,  I am sure a sanitized version of the  scenes he must have witnessed.   Dad always had an interest in journalism and it was a familiar sight to see him seated at the typewriter on his bureau, which had been a  wedding present from my mother.

 

In  May 1945 Dad thought his war had ended in Germany, and was looking forward to heading home,  but to his shock he was posted to the Far East.  This is his story, written in his own words.

 

 "Off on a circuitous route,  because we were not allowed to overfly certain counties.  My travel documents said I was priority three – there were ten degrees, with Generals number one.   We flew to Marseilles, then to Sardinia (refuel), over Malta to El Adam, near Tobruk., along the North African coast past Cairo and onto Palestine for a 36 hour break and went to Bethlehem.  Our base was Lydda right on the coast. The flies were a major menace!" We flew onto Bahrain in the Gulf and then to Habayra (RAF airfield in Iraq) – temperature 104F when we landed there at 4a.m.  I could hardly breath.  Then onto Pakistan, Bombay, Calcutta, Madras and across to Ceylon.  I went by train to Mountbatten’s HQ some 8000 feet in a tropical town of  Kandy.

My stay there was brief, but I remembered the good food.  I was told plans had changed and I was rerouted to Bombay.   It was take off in Colombo and we had almost reached the point of no return when the plane burst a tyre, which delayed us 24 hours. We took off at 4am on the second occasion." 

          I only came across these travel papers, after Dad had died. 

"In Burma things were moving to a close.  I was there at the ceremony in Rangoon when the Japanese capitulated.  I was based at the university.  We were always short of tea, which seemed odd in that part of the world, but there was plenty of cocoa.  I also had a ration of one bottle of gin and one of lime juice a month.  I used to drink that under my mosquito net at night watching the mosquitoes  run up and down the wall. 

In November 1945, I was called back for demob.  A driver took me by jeep to the airfield some 20 miles away.  I sat with a rifle (loaded) on my knee since we had to travel through some forests frequented by Dacoits (a terrorist organization in Burma).  The time was 5am. and we made it all right. I flew to Calcutta again and was there for some days.  Calcutta was an awful experience.    Flies crawled over people sitting in the gutters day and night.

We were due to take a train across the desert to Bombay, some 3000 miles.  But there was rioting against the English  in Calcutta and we had to return to camp.  Later we were taken by armoured cars to the station.  On the long journey across India, we stopped at stations to get some food.  We had this on trays, and as we walked along the platform back to the train, hawks dived down and snatched the food.  

I had a short break in Bombay before sailing on the "City of Asia" for Liverpool and home to Blackpool.  One of the first things I did was to cradle you in my arms – you were shy – no wonder!" 

Dad died at the age of 91 in 2003 - and I was so proud to have his memories written down for posterity.  which I presented in the narratives below. 

                                        

 

 

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Based on a blog post I first wrote in May 2014 

 

Sepia Saturday gives an opportunity for genealogy bloggers  

to share their family history and memories through photographs

 

 

 

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