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#Page 198
#Kingdon - Ward
#Into Burma

The Japanese began their attack on Kohima; I received a letter from my parents. In it they wrote that, if I was ever near to Sepon in the North of Assam I would be welcome at the home of their friends, Henry and Mary Sagar. Henry was the manager of the Sepon tea estate, and Mary his wife had been with him there since before the war. I was not able to trace a place called Sepon on my maps, and I did not have much hope of ever seeing any part of the North of Assam ever again. The situation in Imphal, as it was then with intense fighting on the periphery, being surrounded by enemy forces and having a very uncertain future resulted in my writing back home to the effect that: "If you knew how I am situated here you would not make such ridiculous suggestions". I was not to know that the unit and I would be many miles from Imphal in much different circumstances within a very short space of time.  
Units, like our own had been drawn back from the Kabaw Valley to strengthen the Imphal garrison. The trouble now was that there were so many more troops in that area, all drawing on limited supplies. It was then that General Slim marched out, or flew out 52,000 non-combatants and civilians, thus reducing food requirements considerably. Fortunately the forces in Imphal were supplied by air from Assam or Bengal, but supplies of food had to be limited so that the combatants could be supplied with the means of repulsing the enemy.

Towards the end of April, while the siege was still in progress, and the Kohima garrison had been relieved, I received orders that we were to report to the airfield so that the unit could be moved out of Imphal. All of our stores had to be left behind with 17 IDMS.

The transport eventually arrived at our quarters and we put our personal equipment into the trucks and climbed on board. When questioned, the driver of my vehicle said that he knew the way to the airfield. However, as we progressed along the rough road the area seemed to become less and less inhabited. The sun's position showed that we appeared to be heading North, and I knew that the airfield was to the East of the town. Feeling extremely uneasy, I again asked the driver if he knew the way. His reply was so vague and guarded that I knew that something must be amiss. My worst fears were realised when a British infantry officer suddenly stopped us with pistol at the ready. He checked our details and told me that we should "Clear off - that way - as quickly as you can!" 

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News was received on May 14 that Kohima had been retaken, and all was set for our renewal and return. When the Movement Order came through, we were directed to move up to Margherita in the North of Assam where we would collect new equipment and stocks in readiness for our return to Burma. The journey involved train, riverboat and more train.
A train from Comilla railway station took us to Mymensingh where a river steamer was waiting to take us to Pandu. The Brahmaputra River was about 100 miles away from Comilla, and we were able to board the steamer that day.
Life on the river in late May 1944 was very pleasant, and it was cool under the steamer's canopy where the movement of the ship made a fresh breeze. On board there was a motley assortment of Cantonese speaking Chinese civilians, Sepoys, tradesmen, families on their way to the tea gardens and the crew. 

The Chinese seemed to spend all of the time that they were there washing clothes which already looked spotless. They hung them out to dry on lines strung across the deck. A lookout was stationed in the bows of the ship from which he suspended a long bamboo pole with which he measured the depth of the water and monotonously called out his soundings to the steersman. The river varied enormously in depth, there were many sandbanks and the proceedings were reminiscent of the writings of Mark Twain.

On the second day there was a lot of shouting and argument between the lookout and the steersman, during which our ship ran on to one of the sandbanks. A number of attempts were made to float her off, and at times it seemed as though the boiler might burst. Like most of those river steamers she had been in use since the nineteenth century, a plate on the engines showing that she had been constructed in Glasgow, and for all I know she might be still chugging up and down the Brahmaputra today.

We remained on the sandbank for a whole day before another steamer came to assist us. With the aid of what looked like a perilously thin hawser, and both ships going hard astern, we were finally back in deeper water and on our way again.

While we were stationary the humid heat was most uncomfortable. The resumed motion with resulting breeze was like heaven. There were always numerous villagers along the bank to watch what was going on, and no doubt they were used to seeing vessels run aground like that. At one ghât there were many washing clothes while a large crowd bathed in the river- a sight reminiscent of Benares and the Ganges. Traders came out to us in small boats offering fruit, vegetables, hens, eggs, ghî, milk etc. I purchased some eggs from one of them and we were able to have them fried in the ship's galley. They were very good, and a real treat at the time.
The voyage lasted five days altogether, including being stuck on theb sandbank and stopping once or twice to take on coal which was carried in the usual round baskets by very dusty coolies. Hot water for making tea was always available from the ship's boiler, in a manner similar to that which we had used on the steam trains. The vessel berthed in Pandu in the morning, we disembarked and made our way to the railway station where we boarded a train for Lumding. 
The railway line from Lumding passed through Manipur Road station, which was as busy as ever, with equipment and stores being made ready for the intended advance into Burma. This time we stopped for only an hour or two to allow some goods to be unloaded. For most of the journey on to Tinsukia the line ran along the Disan River valley. Tinsukia is a junction with the Dibru-Sadiya Railway, completed in various stages between 1882 and 1885, and though its length was only seventy-eight miles, it served a large number of important tea gardens and provided an outlet for the coal and oil from Makum. The area had not changed very much from the late 18th century when the railway was built, as described by Sir Percival Griffiths 2 
".... a private company was authorised to construct and operate a metre-gauge line from Dibrugarh to Margherita, with a branch to Talap on the way to Sadiya. These cold words convey nothing of the determination and readiness to face hardship that were required before this line could be driven through miles of dense, uninhabitable jungle. "
The scene beyond Tinsukia where the line passed through the Upper Diking Reserved Forest is graphically described in an extract from the account of an eyewitness, written by W.R. Gawthrop in his excellent

History of the Assam Railways and Trading Company, 3"The train plunged into the heart of the primaeval forest, and surely never from any other railway carriage windows in the world was such a scene viewed as greeted our eyes. South American lines have penetrated tropical forests before now, and have had 'considerable jungle' to tackle. But I question if even any of these lines could show such magnificent timber with such a matted and tangled undergrowth, dense cane brakes, inextricably confused creepers and parasitical growths, as the virgin forest on the Makum branch exhibits... 
Here and there on the line a few huts, and, perhaps a damp, dripping, disconsolate-looking tent appeared, the temporary home of a gang of workmen and their superior. The desolate dreary look of these patches of humanity in the gloom of the primaeval forest, particularly on such a dark, drizzling day, gave us a vivid idea of the life led by the working pioneers of this great enterprise.

One could picture the cheerless return 'home' of these men after a hard day's work, spent with toil, lacerated with thorns, their life blood half drained by leeches, and often, notwithstanding the exertions of those concerned to keep the commissariat arrangements in working order, with poor fare to look forward to."

Eventually, on my 27th birthday, 30th May 1944, we arrived at Margherita, the site of one of a number of US airfields of the Air Transport Command in northern Assam. Doug and I were directed to the mess tent used by the airfield personnel. There, alongside the Americans living on the Base, we were provided with a sumptuous meal. Tents and equipment went in Indian Army trucks to a nearby area adjoining the end of the airstrip.
After the meal we moved into bamboo bâshâs in a patch of jungle resembling that described by Gawthrop. The campsite, surrounded by ditches or land drains, was within a small clearing in the trees. To get there we had to scramble over a line of oil drums, partly immersed in the water. It was quite a hazardous procedure, which involved walking across slippery oily drums while wearing studded army boots. The stay at Margherita was to be short lived. Within three days we moved by truck to Moran, some 87 miles away. It was possible to go by rail from Margherita to Moran, but this involved more transhipment and a longer, circuitous journey via three junctions. This was not relished, and so we used army trucks from the nearest Service Corps depot. Moran was part of a RAMO (Rear Airfield Maintenance Organisation), and the place where new supplies were assembled for airdrop to Chindit units deep in Burma ready for the anticipated renewed advance. Once again tents had to be erected in a clearing in a swampy jungle area. It was obvious that another unit had recently used the site, because there were the remains of brick fireplaces within the clearing.
They had been constructed on some levelled squares of earth, which must have previously been within tented areas. During the day it was very hot, and we certainly did not need to use fires for heating, unless we were to remain there over the winter. With so much movement going on at the Burma front this did not seem likely at that time. Setting up camp in a comparatively peaceful area was a pleasure after months of constantly changing sites and irregular movement at short notice, in conditions which were hostile both from the weather and from the omnipresent enemy forces. A feeling of elation soon disappeared as the hot, steaming humidity of the Assam jungle took effect. Bombay had been unpleasantly humid during the monsoon, but it was as nothing compared with our new, temporary home. We had to become accustomed to clothes that were wringing wet with perspiration and with the maddening effect of small flies, which hovered incessantly in front of our eyes. Shirts were essential cover, because of the risk of being bitten by mosquitoes and long trousers with gaiters and boots were necessary to keep out leeches and other biting insects. I noticed that keys rusted in my pockets within a very short time, while bronze and brass coins soon became covered in verdigris. However, we consoled ourselves with the fact that we lived in luxury compared with the Chindit long-range penetration troops. It did not take long to set up camp on the ready-prepared vacated positions.
Since there was now more time for recreation the men set about making a tennis/volley ball court, using spades and sticks to level the ground within the shade from surrounding trees. When we were in Lucknow the unit had made a Volley Ball court, and I had learned to play the game. The medical store units there ran a Volley Ball "League" in which our Unit did very well. Most of the Indian troops were very swift and adept at the game, which had its origins in the USA, and made some progress in the UK after the war. In some ways it resembles basketball, but is played with an inflated ball, which is volleyed by hand, by teams of six a side, across a net which is 8 feet high. The pitch takes up a comparatively small area, which should not exceed 60 feet by 30 feet. The size of the court makes it possible to play the game indoors. We had enough men in our unit to form two opposing teams. The object of the game is to make the ball touch the ground in the opponents' court while preventing it from doing so in your own. It can thus be a very energetic and fast game, and it was ideal for our situation in the jungle clearing. We used camouflage netting and goni to make excellent walls to contain the flight of the ball within the court area.

Many varied and beautiful butterflies were seen in that jungle region of Assam. Some of them seemed to be enormous, but not as big as an Atlas Moth, which appeared one evening. This was at a time when many birds, which looked like swifts, arrived to swoop down on extensive masses of flying ants which came out of their large anthills. The wild life was extremely interesting, and not as threatening as some which we had come across in Manipur and Burma. The unit was situated very close to the end of a US army airstrip, and I came to the conclusion that regular movement and noise from fighter aircraft had frightened the larger animals away. Mepacrine prophylaxis was continued to keep malaria at bay, but in spite of this a British infantry unit not many miles away had suffered 80 per cent casualties through illness - mainly malaria. Some three weeks after we had arrived at Margherita, on June 22 1944, the Kohima-Imphal road was reopened. We had been ordered to get the unit into a state of readiness preparatory to returning to the Burma front as soon as the road had been opened. In the meantime we were the RAMO medical supply store. Moran airfield housed a number of US P51 Mustang fighter aircraft that operated from there, together with Dakota DC47 transport planes that were used to drop supplies to the Chindits. Our supply formation was commanded by Colonel Keymer, a recent arrival in Assam after being in action against the Germans commanded by Rommel in the Western Desert in North Africa. While we were in Moran 45 
ISDMS was attached to an Ordnance Corps unit under the command of a young Major, a particularly obnoxious "regimental" officer who liked to use the power of his rank to the full. We had operated as a useful working supply unit in Burma near to the CCS field units to which we were attached, and there was no need for the "bull" which he tried to introduce. Colonel Keymer on the other hand was an efficient, gentlemanly officer, dedicated to carrying out the job of work that we had to do. The Ordnance Corps Major decided that I should take a turn on duty with the limited number of officers who arranged for airdrops when they arose.
Up to that time in 1944 the only driving which I had done was when I was about 16 years old, and tried driving my father's old Arroll Johnson car from our garage by an abandoned brick pit at Crosby before the war. I had taught myself how to manoeuvre within a small area near to the garage, which was well off the highway, and situated very near to the edge of a deep water-filled clay pit. I do not think that my parents would have been very pleased if they had known of my activities! This limited driving ability became relevant when, one evening at Moran at about 20.00 hours, when it was dark, the Colonel came to my tent and asked me if I could drive a car. When I answered, ‘Yes, Sir’ on the strength of the foregoing experience, he told me to take a nearby Jeep and drive it to an Army Service Corps unit some five or ten miles away. There I was to ask their CO to provide me with ten 3-ton trucks, which were needed with drivers to take stores from the RAMO supply units to the Airfield for an early morning drop next day. I had made myself familiar with the controls of the Jeep previous to this order, it seemed to be an easy vehicle to operate, and off I went. After previous events that I had experienced in the war the task of driving an unfamiliar vehicle along rough jungle roads at night was not formidable. However, on reflection, it was a somewhat hair- raising experience along the bumpy country track with unknown animal eyes illuminated by the headlights and monkeys scattering across the road as I went along. Suffice it to say that I reached the unit and then went back with the convoy of trucks to the Base area without incident. 
The Jeep, which was a delightful vehicle to drive, was now available to our unit for my use and, with so much mud to drive through in June 1944, its four-wheel drive was a great advantage. A day or two after this episode I was looking at a map that showed me that we were within 7 miles of Sepon station.

It was obvious that I could take up the suggestion in my parents' letter, received before I left Imphal, and which had provided me with a valuable contact in the area. Not only that, one of the Americans had told me that there was a Planters' Club at Moran. Tea planters from a wide area congregated there, and it was well worth a visit. There was even a polo field there, and we might be lucky enough to see a match being played.Moran was not many miles away from camp, so one afternoon Doug and I made our way there in the Jeep. Henry Sagar and his wife Mary were in the Club that evening, and they were delighted to meet us. We had some refreshment, exchanged news and had a long chat with them and their planter friends. It was only then that we learned that modern polo was Manipur's gift to the world. 

The Manipuris were reported as playing polo in the first century AD. In 1863 British military officers in Manipur took polo outside the state. The Moran polo team received instruction from experts who came to them from Imphal in peacetime. The Sagars were astonished when they learned of the area in which our camp was set up. Henry said that it was a foul jungle, in which they did not venture, unless it was to hunt tigers when they caused
The History of the Assam Company by H.A.Antrobus 4 . Contains another map prepared in 1864. On it Moran is marked McIntosh (now Wise & Company), and a piece of land held by Kyah. This was land which James McIntosh planted out on his own account and sold subsequently to the Moran Tea Company Limited, it forms part of the grants belonging to the Moran & Sepon Divisions of that Company. 
We were invited to stay at the Sagars' bungalow on the Tea Garden at Sepon for as many weekends as we could manage. A week or two after the visit to the Club we were able to take the weekend off duty and motor over to Sepon. As we turned into the estate road in the cooling rain we were met with the delightful refreshing perfume of the flowers of the tea bushes, almost rose-like in odour. 
Sir Percival Griffiths 5 wrote "In 1831 Lieutenant Charlton, then serving in Assam, sent what he described as tea plants to the Agricultural and Horticultural Society in Calcutta... In sending the plants, Charlton stated that 'the tea tree grows in the vicinity of Suddyah 6 , the most remote of the British possessions towards the East, in Assam and adjacent to the Burmah territory. Some of the natives of Suddiyah are in the habit of drinking an infusion of the dried leaves, but they do not prepare them in any particular manner. Although the leaves are devoid of fragrance in their green state, they acquire the smell and taste of Chinese tea when dried; the tree bears a flower very like that of the wild rose, but much smaller.'" 
After we had left Lucknow everywhere we went had been rough and wild, apart from the bamboo bâshâs and the buildings in Imphal. At Sepon everything on the estate was so organised and tidy. Our camp in Moran was palatial compared with those which we had occupied on our way into and out of Burma, but it was still situated in the damp, infested, mouldy jungle. Now everything was tranquil and beautiful as we entered the compound in which the Manager's bungalow was situated. There was a neat lawn with flowerbeds and shrubs, all well tended, and set against the background of a screen of a very high Bamboo hedge. Paddy Birds resembling the ibis of ancient Egypt roosted all along the tops of the hedge. On the lawn were some smaller birds comparable with the wagtails at home. They were about the size of a starling and they strutted about in a similar manner to the latter bird. The planters called them Assam Robins and their gentle nature brought serenity, and I understood how Robert Browning felt when he wrote "Oh, to be in England...." in his Home Thoughts from Abroad.
After a clean up and a refreshing shower we sat out on the veranda to have some cool drinks prior to dinner in the bungalow. Although the Manager's house was described as a `bungalow' the word was derived from banglâ, the Urdu word which is used to describe a detached, European style house. At Sepon the Manager's banglâ was a large two storied thatched building set on a raised plinth, incorporating a shaded veranda at the front. The Sagars provided a meal in magnificent style, using beautiful cutlery and crockery - a far cry from the army utensils to which we had become accustomed! The goat meat tasted like finest spring lamb and was accompanied by vegetables and sauces that we had not tasted since before the war. Henry and Mary Sagar obviously possessed a jewel of a cook. Mary said that she liked cooking, but in those days it was ‘not the thing’ for the Manager's wife to do anything in the kitchen, apart from supervising the menu. 
They always had finger bowls on their table, and Henry told us of the recent visit of American Officer from the air base at Chabua, who they had invited to have a meal with them. The officer in question had a good `slurp' from his finger bowl, apparently thinking that it was an elegant drinking vessel. Henry said that on that occasion he and his wife refrained from using their bowls in the accustomed manner, to avoid embarrassing their guest, while the khân'sâmâ (butler) remained his usual impassive self.

On our first visit Henry offered me Scotch whiskey with iced water, which the khân'sâmâ brought along with bottles and some ice on a tray. He did not stop me when I took a Beefeater Gin bottle containing what I thought was iced water and poured some into my glass of Scotch. The khân'sâmâ remained imperturbable, no doubt thinking that his employer's friend liked a strange cocktail, because the bottle really did contain neat gin! Although it was good quality gin I recalled my experience at Lucknow, and so I changed it for the more palatable mineral water diluent.

Most working hours were occupied with checking stores and arranging them in good order ready for the return to Burma. We also packed cane baskets with essential medical supplies, surrounded by a cushion of leaves, ready to be dropped from air transport to forward units operating behind the enemy lines in Burma. When Colonel Keymer came to my tent and told me that I was to act as an observer in one of the Dakotas, which were dropping supplies to the Chindits, I assumed that the drop would consist of Medical supplies. Imagine my consternation when I boarded the aircraft to which I had been assigned and discovered that, apart from a few cane hampers of food and medical supplies, the drop consisted of mixed military goods, but mainly 40-gallon drums of petrol! When I reminded the Colonel that I was protected by the Red Cross and subject to the provisions of the Geneva Convention he said "Forget it - and don't forget to take your revolver with you, because you may need it!" In retrospect I console myself with the fact that a surgical unit could have used the petrol for an operating lamp generator, although I was not to see such sophisticated equipment until the end of the war.
Major General Orde Charles Wingate had been killed in an air crash near Bishenpur on March 24 1944 while we were still in Imphal. Our airdrop was one of the many which he had planned to supply the Chindit formation, known as the 77th Indian Infantry Brigade. This consisted of a battalion from my home area; the 13th battalion of the King's Liverpool Regiment, the 3rd/2nd Gurkha Rifles, the 2nd Battalion of the Burma Rifles and the 142nd Commando Company. Speaking to General Wavell about this formation 
Wingate said "The vulnerable artery is the Line of Communications winding through the jungle. Have no L. of C. on jungle floor. Bring in the goods like Father Christmas down the chimney." I only discovered some years after the war that on the occasion of the drop in which I was acting as an Observer we had acted as Father Christmas to, among others, a pharmacist from Coventry. 
He wrote in a letter to The Pharmaceutical Journal 7 : " At the time I was Major Basil Green of the 1st. Bn. The Lancashire Fusiliers. We did receive medical supplies for use in the most primitive of surgeries at which major operations were carried out - often in the monsoon rains without shelter. The petrol by the way was required for our `chore boxes' to recharge radio batteries in order that we could obtain food, ammunition and stores from bases in Assam." So to some extent my thoughts about the eventual use of the petrol could have been right.
In the aircraft there was a team of four `kickers', Service Corps personnel whose drill concerning dropping had been explained to me before we embarked: The kickers moved the goods to the open hatch on the side of the aircraft. Each of us was roped to a fixture within the cargo space, so that we could be restrained from going out with the goods. I was instructed to stand near to the open hatch through which the supplies would be dropped. Two men would move the packs to the hatch while the third one lay on his back with legs bent up and his feet against the pack. Above the hatch was a light signal, which was operated by the navigator. When he judged the drop point to be right he gave the signal. On observing this, the two sidemen pushed against the innermost sides of the pack while the kicker gave a mighty push with his feet at its base 
My job was to stand by one of the sidemen and watch to see whether the goods landed on the target. There could be two types of signal at the dropping zone: smoke or a clearing marked with a cloth marker. At this time we could not get proper parachutes of silk or other special cloth. This was before General Slim had said; "We must make them of what we can get. I believed it possible to make a serviceable supply-dropping parachute from either paper or jute. Although the paper parachute was quite practicable, the manufacturers could not produce the kind of paper required in time. With jute we were more fortunate. Very soon we were experimenting with various types of `parajutes' as we called them. "In the meantime we had to use `free drops' for items which would not damage easily, such as surgical dressings, or others which could be protected from severe shock with cane baskets, a necessity for dropping essential supplies. The 40-gallon petrol drums were of a robust steel construction that could withstand hitting branches, but not direct contact with the ground. When I looked for my personal parachute inside the 'plane I was laughingly informed that "We will be flying too low for parachutes to be of any use!" Well, I thought, the end would be quick.

The Dakota took off from the bumpy airstrip and very soon we were climbing over the Naga Hills and down to the Hukawng Valley and the upper Chindwin River. From the heat of the Assam valley through which the Brahmaputra flows we were suddenly into cold air. I was not a hardened flier, so that the motion of the aircraft in turbulent air, the changes of temperature and the constant stench of the petrol vapour made me feel extremely sick. Fortunately the job in hand, together with the cool draught by the hatch, helped to overcome this. We flew over the mountains and down the valley for some considerable distance before the preliminary warning light came on. Very soon some smoke could be seen rising from the jungle floor, the `push' warning light came on and the first load, a cane hamper, was kicked out. I saw it fall rapidly into the trees without any signs of disintegration. The flight turned round to make the second drop, which was accomplished with the same result. Three or four drops were made in that area before we moved on to the next zone. The advantage of low flying was that the drop could be made quite accurately, with no `drifting' which could have occurred if a parachute had been used. Flying further south we could see a white marker in a more open clearing. Some petrol was dropped which landed accurately within the area, but it was frustrating to see some of the drums burst, sending a spray of liquid into the air - What a waste it seemed.

 Again a number of runs were made and the other packs dropped successfully until things became a bit more difficult. No markers or smoke could be observed, and suddenly mortar bombs rose in an arc under our flight path. The Japanese could not have expected to hit such a target with that type of artillery, but they were going to have a good try! After further attempts to locate the drop area we turned back and dropped more supplies over the two first areas. By this time the light was beginning to fade as we flew back over the cold hills and made for base. It was quite dark at the approach to the airfield, where the landing strip was marked out by two lines of kerosene crude flares. To one who was inexperienced, the lights at one time appeared to be suspended in space. An unsuccessful attempt at landing was made and we then overshot and took off for a second attempt. This was successful, if somewhat bumpy. I reported the observations from my logbook and then made off to the mess to have a drink to get rid of the nausea and some hot food to drive out the chill. In sequence the excursion had been unpleasant, interesting, satisfactory, frustrating, and frightening. Pressure of our own work now prevented me from making any more of those flights.

At Moran we were one of a few British and Indian supply units, most of the garrison consisting of American and British airmen and their supporting ground staff. The Americans seemed to be very well provided for compared with our own somewhat crude conditions. There was a camp cinema at which the latest American films were shown. One film, in which Betty Grable featured, was greeted with great acclaim, including `wolf whistles' galore. It was quite a new release and caused great excitement of more than one kind. A number of the audience illuminated the star's `naughty parts', directing their hand torches with military precision during the show. Another time the film "Objective Burma" was shown, starring Errol Flynn. It portrayed the actor reconquering Burma almost unaided, apart from some American soldiers and a few Indians. This was regarded as being insulting to those British troops who were present. However, our American allies made it clear that they regarded it as a bit of a joke, since they knew the facts of what all of us were experiencing in that area. These were the first films that we had seen since we had left Lucknow, but the projectionist was not as good as the picture was upside down! It was all good entertainment with plenty of advice in army language from the audience.

While we were there an enterprising Chinese civilian opened a very good restaurant, which served tasty Chinese food at reasonable prices, in a small hut not far from us. The US personnel attributed the availability of scarce items at cheap prices to the proprietor having carried out some kind of deal with their cooks/supplies staff. What had begun, as a small quiet hut soon became a busy restaurant frequented mainly by American, and occasionally by British troops. It was at Moran that I had my first drink of an ice cool Coca Cola served by a attractive young American Red Cross lady at a nearby forces shop. It certainly was refreshing and a marked change from tea and a monthly ration of beer which constituted our own liquor supplies. We were also able to buy delicious fresh American doughnuts at the Red Cross shop.

Japanese aircraft were not able to get anywhere near to that part of North Assam, but one day there was a sudden bout of severe cannon fire at the end of the airstrip nearest to us. At first it was thought that the enemy had made another spectacular advance, until the cause of the action was discovered. Unfortunately a cannon on one of the fighter aircraft had been discharged accidentally, setting fire to others parked nearby. They ignited in turn with a resultant loss of at least five fighters - more than had been lost in combat for some time there.

Because the Jeep was in use the next time that I had to collect the cash for paying the unit I decided that I would go by motor-bike to the Pay Corps unit about 4 miles away. Motorbikes were available from a nearby Service Corps unit, and the controls were very simple. There was no problem in obtaining one, I slung a haversack over my shoulder, in which to carry the cash back to our camp, and started on the uneventful outward journey. The air movement had a pleasant cooling effect, I had made the journey by Jeep in the past, but visibility was not so good on the bike since I had to wear goggles that soon became smeared with dead flies. About halfway back to the unit the road appeared to keep straight ahead, but this was an illusion because a land drain cut right across it. I had to make a sharp turn that caused me to be thrown from the machine and knocked unconscious. Only a few minutes had passed before I came to my senses again. Fortunately the Rupee notes, which had been scattered from out of the haversack, were stapled in bundles.

The staples had kept them from being blown around and nobody happened to pass me while I was unconscious. Picking myself up in a daze I collected it all together and rode carefully in a very shaken condition back to the camp. It was impossible to hide what had happened, because my uniform was torn and covered in dirt off the road. Back in camp Doug made sure that I was not in need of any medical attention while I felt rather foolish. That was certainly the last time that I would ride on a motor bike for a very long time. 
Storage conditions were not good for the supplies that we handled, and this lead to quite considerable quantities having to be replaced. While we were at Moran a message came through, instructing us to get rid of some batches of anaesthetic ether which had deteriorated and become dangerous. There were a few cans in our stock marked with the batch numbers of the material, which had to be destroyed and replaced before we moved back into Burma. There was plenty more in hand to meet the demands of the RAMO at that time. To dispose of the five or six suspect cans the contents were poured into one of the land drains which ran through our site. This amounted to about two litres, since some had already evaporated. It was thought that this quantity did not constitute too great a hazard, with the drain being dry at the time. The unit was warned to extinguish all lights and to keep well away and to the leeward of the drain. Most of the fluid should have been absorbed by the muddy soil and the vapour carried away down wind. Padmanaban Pille, the sweeper, had retired to some 100 metres or so away from the store, but not far from the drain. Unfortunately he suddenly produced a bîdî - an Indian cigarette, smaller than the Western paper covered type, made from green leaves and resembling a small cheroot. He struck a match to light the bidi before anyone could call out a warning. The heavy ether vapour had drifted down the drain and it ignited with a violent roar accompanied by a sheet of flame. Fortunately the trees did not catch fire and nobody was hurt. Padmanaban had thought that he was being cautious in retiring to that distance not knowing how volatile and inflammable the material was. However, he was able to make amends soon after this by helping us with other more unpleasant tasks. The air was gradually filled with a most disgusting stench, which increased in intensity over a period of two or three days. On the second day I ordered the men to dig new latrines, thinking that the old ones might be the cause. All were Hindus, apart from Doug, Lance Naik Karimullah and myself. Padmanaban Pille was the only Hindu of the sweeper class, made up of untouchables. To the others digging a new earthen trench was acceptable, but to fill in the old one in a reasonable period of time meant that the sweeper and the three heathens (Karimullah, Doug. and I) would have to do the job. This was done as quickly as possible with the wind behind us, but the stench still lingered on and became worse as time went by. Fortunately some evidence of the source of the odour was provided when rain caused the land drain to flow with water. One of the men observed some white cocoon-like objects floating on the stream, which was flowing down towards us from the direction of the stink. At first we thought that they were termite eggs until closer examination showed that they were maggots. Following their trail brought us to a place with an even worse stench. This was found to be coming from the carcass of a jackal that was in an advanced state of decomposition. Once again we had the problem of caste. This time our party of heathens, augmented by a very few sympathisers, set about the task of piling up dry wood that was brought to us by the rest of the unit. The remains of the body were levered onto the pile with long handled spades. After dousing it with a liberal quantity of kerosene the funeral pyre was ignited and the shovel blades sterilised in the flames.

When there was a matter concerning health or personal comfort I found that I would acquire a higher caste. One of the men told me that one of the others, Dubber, had been complaining of severe toothache. We were not near to a dental unit and he did not want to go off sick to another place, and I agreed to have a look at the offending molar to see what might alleviate his pain. On a previous occasion I had discussed the use of clove oil in dentistry with a dentist in the UK. In the pharmacy at home the public had often bought small bottles of this oil to stop toothache, and I knew that it contained a very high proportion of the lactone caryophyllin along with a volatile oil which is used as a dental anaesthetic. The dentist told me that he had found that a paste made from clove oil and zinc oxide produced an effective temporary stopping. Dubber came into the makeshift surgery and I was easily able to examine his teeth using a variety of dental instruments from our stock and to discover that he had a reasonably clean cavity in one tooth. The cavity was scraped out with a suitable instrument, syringed with alcohol, dried and filled with a stiff paste made from clove oil and zinc oxide. The patient was made to keep this in place by biting on a wad of cotton wool for a few minutes. To clean their teeth, which always appeared to be in excellent condition, our Indian troops used simple natural materials. A piece of wood (possibly Nîm 8 ) which had been hammered at one end to make the wood splay out produced a nice soft brush. This was not likely to dislodge the filling, but I was a bit apprehensive at the result of this amateur job. I need not have worried. Although it would be nearly a year before I left the unit, the filling had remained in place and there was no more toothache. On the next weekend trip to Sepon the Sagars were most interested on hearing about the amateur dentist and our recent trials by fire! They were only too aware of the difficulties of the caste system, which have become very much less today.

Tea production 
On the tea estate it was interesting to watch the way in which tea pluckers collected two leaves and a bud from the top of the tea (Camellia assamica) bushes during the season of the "second flush" when very good quality leaves are harvested. The agility with which the women workers did it, and the skilful way in which the plucked leaves were accurately thrown into baskets on their backs was remarkable. Full baskets were carried to drying sheds for further processing and each worker was credited with the weight plucked.
Henry asked us whether we would like to be shown the process by which the tea was produced for the market. No doubt to him familiarity had bred contempt, but Doug and I were eager to learn about it, so we made our way into the factory. Firstly we were given a brief explanation of the manufacturing processes, namely withering, rolling, fermenting, firing or drying, and sorting. Withering is carried out as soon as the green leaf is brought in from the garden - indeed, it begins as soon as the leaf is plucked. It involves the exposure of the leaf to air for a considerable period, during which both physical and chemical changes take place. The physical changes are relatively simple. Even on a dry day, about seventy-five per cent of the leaf by weight consists of water, and unless this quantity is reduced, the ensuing processes could not be properly effected. Chemical changes take place during the withering in addition to loss of water. In 1944 the old Withering Houses were still in use at Sepon. Weighed leaf was spread out on goni trays, and a supervisor checked to see that the leaf lay properly. The plucker was penalised if upstanding stalks or large pieces of leaf were apparent. Optimum timing had been developed at Sepon, which allowed both physical and chemical changes to proceed successfully. At this stage in former times the tea was dried over charcoal fires until the advent of forced dryers. The Sirocco drier was invented by Samuel Davidson, an Ulsterman from Northern Ireland who first went out to India in 1864 at the age of 17. His 18th birthday was spent on 18th November 1864 at Cachar, which he had reached by travelling some 600 miles in a primitive boat from Calcutta. Davidson was a prolific inventor who revolutionised the Indian tea industry with his machinery. In 1988 I was trying to get hold of the book The Sirocco Story 9 which had been printed by the Sirocco Company in 1969. When I telephoned their factory in Belfast I was connected to their Mr. Derek Smith, and during our discussion I told him about the time during the war when I was near to the Tea Estate at Sepon in Assam, a place which I did not expect him to know. At this he laughed in astonishment, because not only did he know the name, he had also personally installed some new Sirocco drying machines there in the 1950s.

The second process of manufacture, known as rolling, literally involves rolling the leaf in such a way as to bruise it. The cells are distorted, liberating the juices and thereby facilitating the next process, fermenting. An almost equally important object is to give the leaf the twist, which improves its appearance and sale price. Here again rolling was done using Sirocco machines.

Although the third process is known as fermentation it is really oxidation. Certain chemical substances in the leaf become oxidised and thereby transformed into tannins through the action of an enzyme, which is also present in the leaf. In some ways this is the most critical of all of the processes of manufacture. High humidity without excessive temperature is necessary for its satisfactory operation. When we visited the Sepon factory fermentation took place in ceramic tile lined chambers. Since the value of the tea depends to some extent on the proportions in which the various tannins are present the conditions of fermenting are critical. After fermentation the tea is "fired", the main object of firing being to stop further fermentation of the leaf. At the same time, in a process known as caramelisation, some of the substances present are changed by the heat and given the "malt" taste and smell peculiar to fired tea.
In the final process, known as sorting, the product is passed over a series of graded sieves. Originally these were hand-held circular fabric or metal sieves contained in a wooden frame. At Sepon in 1944 the sieves were of an inclined cylindrical form with the coarsest mesh at the top and progressing down to the final, smallest mesh. The aroma of the product from the fermenting stage down to the sorting was really mouth-watering. I had always thought that the fine "dust", which passed through the final separation, was the poorest quality of tea until Henry explained that it consisted mainly of the aromatic oil bearing hairs which almost dissolve in hot water. I also learned that the size of the sorted tea does not always relate to its quality.

We were given some samples to take away with us, and these put us out of conceit with any of the other teas that we had tasted up to that time. I noticed that Henry was very quick to defend the qualities of Assam tea in competition with the more recently grown Ceylon tea, which was extensively advertised at home in England.  Unfortunately we were not able to visit Sepon many more times after that. I will always be filled with nostalgia at the thought of that pleasant oasis of happiness set against the discomforts of service life in the jungle. The early tea planters had been only too familiar with such, or even worse an existence 10 . In 1989, through the help of the Moran Tea Company (India)'s Calcutta office I was able to contact the present manager, Mr. David Isaacs. In June 1989 he wrote to me:

" It is a pleasure to give you information on Sepon, for your comparisons, of what you remember it to be, and what it is now. The Sepon Manager's residence used to be a double storied Chung bungalow, now it is a single storied bungalow, maintaining the same plinth plan. However, the natural beauty of the surrounding area is untouched, with the graceful `Bamboo bari' an effective backdrop. Sepon used to be surrounded by dense jungles, where the labour, ventured not out at dusk or night for fear of wild animals. This Jungle paradise is no more and has been replaced by tea, and as far as the eye can see a patchwork of paddy fields. It is keeping pace with progress and the population explosion. After Mr. Sagar's retirement, we have had six Managers. Sepon, through the years, has gone from strength to strength. In 1952 we produced 5,98,000 Kg.4 of tea in 1988 we produced 11,46,000 Kg. of tea, an increase of almost 91%. The factory to all intents and purposes is the same, located on the banks of the Sepon Jan (river). However the old three storied high Withering Houses, have been dismantled and replaced with new Technology Withering troughs, which are far more reliable in controlling the physical wither. The old workhorse Crossleys have been replaced by high revolution generating sets. New machinery updated equipment and more professional methods are in vogue, to keep pace with market requirements and consumer tastes.

The labour force who were quite illiterate are now vying for Staff posts, and those recruited have well deserved the trust put in them. Powerful Unions have been formed, and they have become a political force to be reckoned with, members holding important Ministerial posts. The time has gone, where the labour went round ill-clad. Now they turn out with matching clothes and the women folk with lipstick and nail polish; a far cry from the old days. Culturally they have brought with them a rich heritage of music and dance, which, they still cling to. Come festivals and weddings the air is rent with the throbbing of drums. A lot have become stage artists and have sung over the air, acted in Assamese films, and won numerous trophies in tribal dances. Though still shy and conservative the younger generation is breaking out into all walks of life and making their presence felt. 
The Moran Polo Club still functions strongly. Though no Polo or Rugby is played, golf, tennis, cricket, football, and billiards are played with great enthusiasm. Sadly, with the advancement of technology, which has brought entertainment to the home, the club is no more the second home for the planter, but a mere amenity. The wild swinging days are all part of history, which are told with relish by the older generation, while youngsters look on, open mouthed, believing yet disbelieving." 
The subject of Tea is vast, involving its mythology, history, growing, transformation, trade recipes etc. I have written about my brief fascinating encounter with tea at its source and of how it sustained us in trying circumstances. The quoted publications 11,12, 13, 14, 15, 16 are recommended to any reader interested inpursuing the subject further.

Back in camp we were among the wild life in primitive conditions once again. Jackals were not heard around the camp at night, but I expect that the noise and activity on the airstrip tended to keep them away. Neither did we find any traces of the tigers that abounded there. However, we heard of an artilleryman, whose unit was a few miles away in an even worse swampy jungle, and who had been severely mauled by one of them. Snakes seemed to be there in plenty, judging by the tracks that they left on the ground. But again they kept out of our way and I only saw three or four during the whole of the time that we were there. Monkeys, in contrast, were more adventurous. It was not long before we noticed that our stock of shakapara biscuits was rapidly diminishing. None of the troops were particularly fond of what we called "dog biscuits", but the local tribes of monkeys evidently thought otherwise. It was not long before we discovered their stealthy marauding, but they were not easily dissuaded from their thieving habits!

At the end of September all was ready for our return to Burma, and by the middle of October 1944 the goods had been assembled and packed. The cases were again loaded onto the metre gauge wagons at Moran station to begin the journey back to Manipur Road, a journey that was to take three days. The route and landscape, which had become familiar, was pleasant at the end of October, a cooler time of the year . At Simalguri Junction there was a long wait while loaded trains made their way to the American bases at Chabua and Ledo in the Northeast. Presumably a large proportion of the load was to be flown into China over "the hump".
The line beyond the junction was very busy, and there was another delay at Mariani. Some changes were apparent, such as work at the side of the track where a pipe line was being laid from the Assam oil-fields through Dimâpur and then down the Manipur road as far as the airfields in Imphal. With Kohima now safely in our hands and the withdrawal of the Japanese forces, work could go on apace.
From Mariani onwards we had an uninterrupted journey to Manipur Road station. The canteen was still working hard there when our train drew in. Rations had been good and plentiful on our way from Moran, so that, unlike the previous occasion that we had been at that busy station, we did not need more.
My instructions were to take the unit to No. 24 Indian Base Depot Medical Store, a much larger unit than a Depot, established in tents at nearby Dimâpur. They were not a part of the Headquarters complex in which we had been quartered at the end of January, before the aborted Japanese "March on Delhi". 24 IBDMS had formed up at Lahore while we were in Lucknow. They were expecting to move down from Dimâpur through Burma to Rangoon and then on to Singapore. In the meantime they were supplying units within the area, extending well beyond Imphal. We were attached to them for two or three days while waiting to join a convoy down to Imphal. This enabled us to take a break and to become acquainted with our new hosts while the goods were transferred from the railway onto trucks ready to return to Burma.

As I turned off the main road, into their camp in the jungle I was pleasantly surprised to meet Jack Hesketh, who was one of the pharmacist Warrant Officers with the unit. Jack came from Ormskirk in Lancashire and had studied alongside me at the Liverpool School of Pharmacy before the war. Not only that - Doug Plackett had been with Jack on the same troopship, HMT Orcades, sailing via Durban when they were on their way to India. I had already heard of the Officer Commanding 24 IBDMS Dimâpur, Captain Ron Rivers, RAMC who had been a W.O.1 with another unit in Gauhati. The other WO’s and NCO's, all pharmacists, included W.O.1 D.V. Warr (who went to live in New Zealand soon after the war), Staff Sergt. Dick ("Jock") Adam, and Staff Sergt. George ("Taff") Newman. The scene was set for a celebration in honour of our profession meeting once again in such unusual surroundings. Several Medical Stores units like ours had passed through Dimâpur and stayed with