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Those
were the days, my friend The last merchant
ship to go through Suez, we heard of the fall of Dunkirk as we left
the Red Sea for the Indian Ocean. On our arrival back in Ceylon
I was to hear of an incident which had happened during my leave
in England. An Australian troop carrier had called in at Colombo
en route for the Middle East war. Apparently a very drunken trooper
off the ship, speaking with an impeccable English accent had searched
Colombo for a fellow called Bill Atkinson. He gave his
name as Ronald Holding, my old cobber. I did hear of him again but
I never saw him. We had met in the killing pen of an abattoir in
Melbourne, gold mined in Victoria and fruit picked in Mildura together. Subsequent
efforts to join contingents being drafted from the Ceylon Defence
Force overseas finally succeeded in August 1940 when I was put in
charge of 25 young, mad, wild tea planters and told to herd them
2000 miles to an officers' training establishment for the India
Army south of Bombay. By guess and by God we got there. I remember
one incident leaving Bangalore late one night by train. I had counted
only 24 of my 25 chicks. The Station Master, the guard and I were
having a battle delaying another 10 minutes for my lost one. Eventually
I had to give the OK to go and out we steamed. I was in turmoil wondering how I could explain one prospective Indian Army officer missing, believed drunk, somewhere in India. I was in a carriage with half a dozen others pondering this problem about 10 minutes out of Bangalore when a face put its head through the carriage window with the remark "I hope you did not miss me". He had got under the train and onto the off-side running board until he thought the time was ripe to put in an appearance. Little did he know it then but it was to be the aftermath of a train journey that would cost him his life. He joined the 2nd Bn. of my own regiment 4th Gurkha Rifles, taken prisoner in the Middle East and sent up through Italy by train. During the journey, being small, he offered to squeeze through a lifted floor board in the truck, crawl out, remove the lock and open the truck door. They all escaped but he died of pneumonia getting over the Alps. A very brave man. His story is recorded by Rex Woods in "Special Commando" 1985 (Kimber). A couple
of breaks This went on all through the war until I finally ended up as part of the organization which you might have read about in a book recently published after a 30 year interdict called the "Ultra Secret". I was in the Japanese Intelligence Section. The fact that our unit consisting of 12 naval, 6 R.A.F. and 2 Army officers was leavened by 400 WRNS did alleviate some of the ordinary tasks. At the end of 1943 my wife did get out again from England on a special job, and we met up in New Delhi. We had a wonderful 3 weeks leave in Kashmir, notable for our listening to the Broadcast of the Invasion of Europe on a houseboat but marred by another miscarriage for my wife. Later in Colombo she worked for an Intelligence section with others under a Col: Airey; they were known as 'Airey's fairies'. When a Col: Russell took over, the nickname changed to 'Russell's Vipers'.And so after 4 years of war we got back to Colombo to pick up the threads of civilian life. I told my employers I couldn't stick going back to the tea estate agency side of mercantile business in Colombo and to my pleasant shock they offered me the job as their shipping agent, Orient Line, Glen Line, American President, Ocean Steam Pacific and many others. So now I became a shipping agent. I enjoyed this and it did have many interesting and some bizarre sides. I will quote two incidents which remain outstanding in my mind. Sometime in March 1918 the three-weekly Orient Liner had left Aden outward bound and cabled its requirements for oil, water and stores ahead to me. At the end of the cable was a terse sentence "Have homicidal maniac on board stop presently under straitjacket stop arrange removal Colombo". The other one was a wireless message from a tramp, which had been wandering round the oceans wondering whether the war had ended, to the effect that he had a murder to report. On my going on board in harbour the captain told me the murderer had jumped overboard and so I felt my obligation was at an end. Oh no - the captain had the evidence. When I looked puzzled he led me below decks to a vastly bolted door which turned out to be the ship's freezer. Inside was the murdered corpse, in ice, knife and all. An amusing incident in shipping days is worth recalling. I was seeing off an Orient liner at midnight. "All visitors ashore" had rung out in 2 LO accent from the brightly lit deck for the last time. An orchid button holed, impeccably silk suited lothario, tripped down the gangway and turning to wave good bye to the purserette stepped out - into the water. A passing Danish launch hooked him out. Walking up the jetty, water pouring off him, the customs officer remarked "I see your friend has fallen into the harbour", to which the Dane replied "Certainly not. My friend sweats in the tropics." About mid 1950 I had been working some 16 years with the same employers, Whitehall and Co. and began to get restive about my future. These big firms were inclined to be very conservative in their statements and, although I new they wanted me to stay, their inability to make me a concrete offer extending eventually to the top of the pyramid persuaded me to accept an offer of partnership with men of my own age in taking over a big import export business, Hayley and Kenny, elsewhere in Colombo. For four years thereafter I was the desiccated coconut king of Colombo, on the telephone to London everyday and shipping vast quantities of this household commodity all over the world. However, shortly my life was to change dramatically. Having a
ball The Queen had
taken the open air dance floor with Prince Philip to start the ball
rolling and returned to her dais when the skies opened in torrents
of rain. A quick word
in the band leader Tony Felice's ear and the whole vast concourse
joined in that happy tune, which dates so many of us, "Singing
in the Rain" and our future Queen put her head back and laughed
in sheer delight. They were happy carefree days, during which time
my wife had been elected the only European vice-president of the
80 Club in Colombo. The PM John Kotelawala was then president. She
had also been asked by 43 Grouper Harry Pieris to sit for a portrait
in evening dress - a photo of which appeared in a Colombo newspaper
at his death as his favourite painting. Further she was elected
Hon.Sec: of the Red Cross. An extended article about her appeared
in 'Ceylon Causerie' in May 1958 by A.E. Bartholemeusz. Some years
prior to this Ceylon had obtained its political independence and
the effects began to show in the early 50's. All companies had to
cut down on European, as all whites were called, employees in favour
of a leavening of Ceylonese. It was thought I had as much chance
as any to get another job and so I was again on the cart road. I
was not too worried at first as I had several tentative offers. However for
one reason or another all fell through. By August1953 we were desperate
and I had promised my wife that I would give her a final answer
as to our packing up, weaving and going to Canada by end of September. Fortune
smiles To our amazement
the little man merely laughed in our faces and said "It is
not September 28, yet". You can imagine our disbelief when
only a few hours had yet to go. The next morning I went to my old
office to clear up my things when the telephone rang. "Is that
you Bill?" a voice I didn't know asked, "If it's convenient
will you come round at about ll am, we'd like to have a talk".
My mind in a turmoil I reported round. The upshot was that this
large firm of wide interests had just received a cable from England
to say a key man who ran two companies up country in the tea area,
one a large transport company and the other, the only bank in the
hills, could not return to the East as his daughter was very seriously
ill. As I had such a wide knowledge of, and acquaintance with, the
upcountry tea planters they were offering me the post as director
of these two companies; could I join them in early December? I took
a deep breath, said a little prayer of thanksgiving and said "Yes".
I tore home to my wife, who was by this time very nearly at the
end of her tether with the prospect of packing up for Canada, and
said "Take a deep breath and just think of any place you would
like to go, anywhere in the world, for a two months holiday".
Within a week we were on board a French liner enroute for Singapore,
Saigon, Manila, Hong Kong and Japan. What a holiday that was. But
to revert to the insignificant little fortune teller. How did he
know? Way up on
a mountain I loved these
two jobs and a measure of the success I experienced can be calculated
in that when I arrived I was personally bringing up from Colombo
by station wagon, the equivalent of £500,000, per year in
rupees in monthly trips and after one year I had increased this
to £5,000,000 per year. I liked the planters and they apparently
liked me. During these excursions to collect money my only protection
against bandits was a loaded .38 revolver, incidentally - unlicensed.
I collected monthly from the Central Bank Colombo. The insurers
Lloyds insisted I drove the car and had two armed police in the
back who, on the D.I.G.'s orders had no bullet up the spout. There
was always an inquisitive crowd watching, so I had a routine. Taking out
my .38 from the car pocket I stood up in full view, broke the barrel
and inserted six rounds slowly, smiled at the onlookers, put the
revolver in my lap and drove off up the only road to Hatton, Ginigathena
Pass. The only incidents
which happened in five years were a front wheel of the car sheering
straight off on one trip landing me in the road bank instead of
a long drop. Secondly, on looking out of the Bank's first floor
window to see who had come to collect estate cash a 12 bore went
up in front of my face. On my remonstration three-ply came "sorry,
old man, I did not know it was loaded"; slightly casual I thought
in the circumstances. Forages
into the wild But on one occasion
a block of ice slid slowly down my back when out with a tracker
sitting over a water hole in the stillness of a tropical night.
In the distance I heard one shot and I knew the only other firearm
within some miles was the revolver I had left with my wife in camp
for protection. It is worthy of remark to say that the distant shot
had been fired by Michael Muller who had operated on both my feet
in London in 1948. He passed us by when we were picnicking on the
way out. However I am still alive and so you see all these incidents,
including when my wife was bitten by one of the most poisonous snakes
in Ceylon, did not impede our progress into a fairly ripe old age.
My wife died in July 1993 in the U.K. By 1958 I was
at the top of my tree and I was getting restive again. I answered
an advertisement in the Times Agony column and struck up correspondence
with a man advertising for capital in a restaurant enterprise in
England. After some months I flew home. I was met at London airport
by a self-drive car with instructions to come down to Newbury. There I was
regally entertained in a beautiful country house by my prospective
partner, a man of some 70 years. To cut a long story short I went
in with him and the three restaurants he had in England. Back I
went, handed in my resignation to my firm in Ceylon on August 4,
1958. My wife then had the job of packing up and leaving the East
for good. On August 6, two days later, I received a cable from London.
My new partner had died. This was an awful blow but couldn't change
plans and I had the confidence that success in the East must bring
an equivalent measure of success among the wide boys of London.
How terribly
wrong can one be; in this instance pride came before the most colossal
fall.We left Ceylon with many tugging of heart strings and after
25 years and against the advice of many old friends. The end
of an era -entitled"Et
in Arcadia ego..." 'To Marjorie who twisted my arm' how green the
grass. "The pundits
of the club bar who claimed unique rapacity Omitted to
include the bacchanalian capacity of Gratiaen, Noel Q.C., - verbus
sap; Never fails
to grant the laurel for pure alcoholic levity, to that master of
all the Bacchus tribe. And now Her
Royal Highness with a gracious magnanimity honour Noel's superb
rhetoric skill. Has deigned
to claim his counsel in a bond of close affini overflowing to the
brim his cup to fill. Far be from us to ponder, in our realms of
mediocrity.the Olympian sights above our puny roof - To emulate
his glory needs but supreme avidity for quantities of gin one hundred
proof." His reply from
chambers in London read "Dear Bill, many thanks. I happened
to have a cup of tea with Her Majesty recently and she by chance
remarked she was getting a little tired of her Poet Laureate. Did I know
of anyone? I feel sure you willl receive a missive shortly from
Royal quarters." In conclusion
we were so fortunate during those wonderful years and learned the
courtesy of your great friendship. Thank you. Next week:
Nicki Upton- born in Colombo 1935 |
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