World War II — Fears of Japanese invasion of
India. Blackouts, air raid drills and evacuees
From Chapter 8: Farewell the Winterline:
1942
 |
| P-38H similar
to the bombers used in India during WWII. |
Nineteen
forty-two was a momentous year. My
last at Woodstock. At Khargpur a year of war and uncertainty.
One
change was the blackout. It created a "melancholy" (Mother's
word) atmosphere for evening events. "Evening" meant
everything prior to dinner which in most households
was served to the adults at eight or nine o'clock (children
ate separately and earlier). No light was permitted
to be visible in windows or doors. Street lights were
off. Vehicles moved in the dark on dark roads. Bicycles
could be sensed only by the creak of their pedals and
chains. Air Raid Precaution (ARP) wardens and police
enforced compliance. So outdoor programs were scheduled
only for the daylight hours. One of these, the annual
church picnic at the Kasai river, was canceled. "Our" bridge
was in the hands of the military, fortified with barbed
wire and paved between the tracks so military vehicles
could be driven over it.
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| Along with the increased
American military presence in India was the need
for cemeteries for the U.S. casualties. Four to
five thousand Americans were buried at the Kalaikunda. |
The
war situation was rapidly getting worse. In January
the Philippines fell. Japanese forces were in Malaya,
Burma and the Dutch East Indies. Evacuees began to
arrive in increasing numbers from the war zones.
We now had with us the Conrads, the Crains, the Suttons,
Professor Hillman, all from Burma and Mrs. Velge,
Eileen's mother, from Malaya. Rangoon harbor was
mined so the best escape route available was overland
across the wild Burma-India frontier. Air evacuation
from Upper Burma was possible, also.
As a
precaution, the Government initiated the seizure of
bicycles and private motor cars along the coast. Meanwhile,
the ongoing evacuation of Calcutta totaled an estimated
600,000 people.
Lord
Wavell, the Allied commander, announced on the radio
that after Rangoon fell a seaborne invasion of India
could happen, so everyone living within a hundred
miles of the coast should get ready to evacuate.
That applied to almost all of the American Baptist
mission stations in Bengal and Orissa. The American
consul-general in Calcutta asked US citizens to prepare
an estimate of personal property which might be lost.
Dad and Mother valued ours at a thousand dollars.
As a precaution the Government initiated the seizure
of bicycles and private motor
Get the whole story! Read Stan Brush's Memoir
of His Boyhood in India, "Farewell
the Winterline"
cars along
the coast. Meanwhile, the ongoing evacuation of Calcutta
totaled an estimated 600,000 people. And from Moradabad
we heard that Mrs. Amstutz had escaped on what was
believed to be the last ship to leave Singapore harbor
safely and was now with Beverly and Bruce. She had
left on January 19th. On February 15th the impossible
happened; Singapore surrendered. All Allied forces,
the great naval base and the civilian population
were in Japanese hands. Rev. Amstutz and a handful
of fellow missionaries had voluntarily stayed behind
to carry on with their duties and remain with the
Christian community. Their fate and whereabouts were
unknown.
Frances
teasingly remarked, with her eye on the gift signet
ring from Bev and after I had made a silent wish and
blown out all the candles, “We might as well call
the preacher now!”
My
seventeenth birthday arrived in November. The sole
guest at dinner was Beverly. We ate by candlelight
in front of the fireplace in the living room. Frances
teasingly remarked, with her eye on the gift signet
ring from Bev and after I had made a silent wish
and blown out all the candles, "We might
as well call the preacher now!"
The end was at hand. Elation and finality mingled in
an almost unbearable way. I savored everything to the limit. I wanted to absorb,
through my pores, if possible, the essence of Landour, its smells, sights and
sensations, everything that went into the reality of Woodstock, the Himalayas
and India. Very soon it would be just memory. I began walking the roads and footpaths..."just
like you did," Mother reported to John in her letter. I went to Fir
Clump, the Haunted House and Jabarkhet, and walked around the Chukkar, looking
at everything and memorizing it. Willis and I even wandered around by flashlight
after dark, so as to not miss anything. The bracing air and sunlight, the white
snow peaks, the cool fir forest and the aroma of the long-needle pines, the deceptive
moonlight, with its colorless brilliance and black velvet shadows, and the winterline.
Its sunset glow always signaled the end of the school year and the time of farewells.
The difference was that this would be my final farewell.
Cataract
eye surgery. See what Dr. Whitcomb
kept in his trophy jar: Chapter 9 |
