Chapter 5

(1952)

Changi

The chill of the British winter gradually gave way to sunshine as we passed Gibraltar and stopped for a few hours at Tangier, Malta, and Port Said before passing through the Canal to the steam heat of the Red Sea.  By the time we reached Aden, our lobster skin glowed beneath our baggy shorts, as yet untailored into the neat bleached versions of the seasoned overseas airman.  Across the Indian ocean with its flying fish, sharks and dolphins to our penultimate stop and a few more hours ashore at Colombo, Ceylon (Sri Lanka).  At each stop we had been off loading 'defenders of the realm' and conditions aboard were improving all the time but we were glad to be nearing our destination after three weeks of the strict army discipline.

The bustle of activity on the dock, forming up with full kit in the sweaty heat, the hundred and one new smells, overshadowed by the pungent aroma of raw rubber from the godowns or warehouses, the multiplicity of races; brief glimpses of a new and exciting life before we were off once again, this time aboard the 3-tonners to Changi.  East along the coast road, through Katong to Bedok Corner, inland to join the Geylang Road, east again past Changi Gaol and the wartime airstrip built by the prisoners of the Japanese, Selarang army camp and on to the village and camp of RAF Changi.

The first few weeks at any new camp are always hectic with the different routines, conditions and aircraft.  Here we would be working on Valettas, twin-engined transports (fondly known as 'flying pigs') for movements around the Far East; also the bigger Hastings from Britain, turning around for the return trip or in transit for Hong Kong and Korea.  There was the usual assortment of other odd aircraft including Churchill's wartime York, 'Canopus' and the little Austers, Proctors, etc. for the senior officers of Far East Air Force Headquarters to play with and maintain their flying pay.

The main off-duty activity of the newly arrived, married man was the search for accommodation.  The points system was such that I would not be eligible for married quarters until the second half of the two and a half year tour.  Flats were in very short supply but there were a few local people who let single rooms with share of the kitchen and lounge. I finally found one in Katong, half way back to Singapore city.  15 Karikal Road was in the middle of a terraced row with a scrub field opposite.  At the end of the road was the slightly seedy, Grand Hotel; usually full of officers.  They were not allowed to live with the natives and we could not afford the hotel prices so separation of the classes was assured.  The hotel is the place with what looks like a wooden shed on top to the right of the picture.  The field was covered, not in grass but in sensitive plant whose leaves closed up as you walked through, leaving a clear sign of ones passing.

 The The house was owned by Freda and Hilary Don a Ceylonese/Portuguese couple who lived downstairs with their son Roger and Kitchik (Kichee), the Chinese Amah.  Three service couples occupied the upstairs bedrooms.  It was a small room but I booked it and set the wheels in motion so that, with luck, Kath should arrive in a couple of months.

 Freda, Roger and Hilary Don  

Once the important procedure had been started I could spend a little time sampling the Oriental delights. 

 There was Changi Village to investigate; finding the tailor who could flout Queen's Regulations but disguising the fact when altering my baggy khaki outfit. Trying the bars, comparing the Chinese, Indian and Malay cuisine in Changi Milk Bar, searching the shops for goodies for wives and girl friends.

There was swimming.  The pool up at the army camp was the place for diving and the more formal approach but the Pagar was more fun.  This was a small sea bay  fenced off from the sharks with diving boards and a walkway on the fence.  Here there was a beach with a field behind, rattan umbrella shades over tables and wives and daughters to ogle in their 'two-pieces'.

There was Changi Hill and the apes.  We were lucky in that we were able to see them before they were slaughtered by the army.  Occupants of the nearby married quarters had  complained about their raids on the kitchens for food.  British gunboat diplomacy reigned supreme in those days.

Some days were lazy days, spent lounging around the cool, stone built, three story billets playing cards or Monopoly.  We would chat to the Indian bearer (who kept our room clean and did our washing) and learn a little bazaar Malay, (the Lingua Franca of Singapore) or burn a few newspapers under our stripped, iron framed beds to rid them of fleas.

At other times life was a little more robust.  A contingent of the Australian Air Force was stationed at Changi for a while and we had a few with us in the Instrument Section.  The night before they returned home we had a farewell party at the Malcolm Club ( a sort of NAAFI) on camp.  It was a wild night.  Few of us could match them in liquid intake and soon there were sixty or so well tanked Ausies and a similar number of almost floored Poms.  Eleven o'clock was closing time and the WAAFS with us had left earlier to be back in their billets next door before curfew.  Some time later, having drained the glasses someone said,

"How about saying goodnight to the Sheilas?" 

Word quickly spread and they were off.  At the entrance to the girls billet they split into three groups.  Each group taking a floor, they roared through the the dormitories tipping the occupants from their beds.  Little if anything is worn at night in such a climate and reactions were varied.  The timid screamed hysterically as the sheets were stripped from their desperately clutching hands.  The bold jumped up and down on their beds, begging the invaders to stay.  The sleepers woke as bare flesh hit the cool floor and they lay there in a daze.  The brave attempted to protect their modesty by attacking with pillows but to no avail.  We more reserved poms crowded the entrance, cheering on the Colonials but making sure we stayed unrecognised in the shadows.  The noise subsided as the raiders regrouped at the far end, clutching their spoils of war; still warm panties and bits of nightie.  Defying the threats of the sergeant 'Queen Bee' in her end room, they treated her the same in case she felt slighted and scattered into the night.  To the sensitive amongst you, I quite agree; PC it was not.  But the only real complaints that we heard were from the other un-raided  WAAF billet next door, who did feel slighted!

The Aussies left the next morning, unpunished and with our unqualified admiration.  Somehow I did not see puppets as being able to follow a class act like that and as my Mandarin, Tamil, Urdu and Malay was a bit limited, shows to the locals could be tricky ..... however.

"CAN YOU ENTERTAIN?" enquired the poster.

There followed details and an invitation to send in ones qualifications and reasons for wanting to join the Far East Air Force Concert Party.  The group would be touring the Far East towards the end of the year.  I had brought a couple of puppets with me and Kath would be bringing a few more with her as part of her bigger family allowance; the theatre, of course, had to be left behind.  Still uncertain about puppets being suitable as troop entertainment I had put these last after a cartoon act and stage manager in my application.  It was the puppets, however, that attracted the attention of the organisers.  Auditions would be in about a month.  Kath would be here by then.

It was necessary to rethink the puppets as a cabaret act as the large theatre set-up was out of the question.  I recalled when we had met Martin Grainger; he had used a simple open stage and a few individual puppets.  Being particularly impressed with his Arab sand dancer and a skater I decided to copy them.  Well. didn't we all?  These would have to be new puppets as the two I already had would be a bit small for the theatres I knew we were to visit.  The larger of my two was about 18" (45cm); he could ride a unicycle whilst the smaller 15" (38cm) puppet would be suitable as the acrobat on the parallel bars.

First I had to collect materials and a few tools.  I had brought a length of 4"X4" (10X10cm) balsa with me; enough for a few heads and there were lengths of solid cane to be had from the furniture makers' shop in the village that would be suitable for limbs.  Sheet aluminium for the unicycle wheel, large rubber grommets and other odds and ends from the spares boxes in the Instrument section for the skate wheels, Meccano sprocket and chain for the unicycle gear (have to go into Singapore for that).  In the evenings I began to fill up the waste bin with discarded sketches and plans.  At last, materials and ideas were ready and as work loads were not too heavy I was able to spend some time during the day making the puppets.  Hand tools as well as basic machine tools such as pillar drill and small lathe, etc. were available.  Afternoons were best.  Our Electrical Officer was also in charge of the Officers' Mess bar and he usually spent lunch-time testing the stock.  His slurred voice would come over the phone most afternoons,

"Ish evrything OK, corporal? I'm bishy at the mess".  The Sergeant slept his off in his office and could not care less. 

The E&I Section was in a quiet corner of the camp and we had few visitors.  It may have looked a bit rough, being a tin Nissan hut with a rattan roof covering as protection from the sun but our calibration room with its highly polished floor and benches was probably the best looking room on camp.

Kath's boat would be due in a few days.  I had been paying for our room since the beginning of the month, had stocked up with some food and hired an amah, a Chinese woman named Ah Gill who would join the other two service amahs and Kitchik in the kitchen and servant's room.  The Air Force paid the servants but it was usual to negotiate a few extra dollars from us, as well.  A sexy nightie was laid on the bed along with some expensive perfume and a few other welcoming gifts for Kath and it was nearly time to meet the boat. That morning a friend in the Photographic section had given me an aerial shot of Kath's boat, the Dunera, taken the evening before out in the 'roads' awaiting the morning tide.  Clutching this, I called a taxi and headed for the docks.  The tugs were nudging the trooper into its berth as I arrived.  Some time to wait yet. 

The Dunera with Kath aboard 

There she is; how pale she looks.  We wave, make sign language, frustrated that we cannot hear each other.   It seems an age before being allowed closer to the boat.  Now we could talk but not touch.  After four months we have so much to say but with others so close we are limited to small talk and introductions to newly acquired friends; there are periods  of  awkward silence.   At last they are allowed to disembark.  The suitcases were bundled into a taxi and we  were away.  The heavy 'deep sea' boxes are to be delivered later.  The excitement of being together again, trying to catch up on our lives, the  sharing of the sights and sounds of the bustling city.

"Yes, she does look pale."  Pointing out the well stocked shops.

"Those stockings don't look right".  Into Katong, past the 'La Paloma' club, and the Roxy cinema, turn right.

"This is where we we'll be living; it's not as bad as it looks." 

Introductions over, we went up to the tiny back bedroom to be alone for a while and to shower and change before going out again.  Walking this time, exploring together the shops, the beach, the smells and sounds of a life so exotic and different to the utility life of post war Britain.  Throughout our service life we rarely became involved in the insular camp social life, preferring to look outside for our activities and so it was in Singapore. 

Our favourite evenings were those spent walking in the darkness along the narrow lanes to Katong beach, listening to the click of Mah Jong tiles coming from every other house, stopping at the flare-lit stalls for a slice of papaya or durian and a handful of lychees, or sitting on the short pier.  Here one could look out to the lights of the city to the west and listen to the gentle lapping of the water below.  A lad would ask if we would like anything and trot off with our order to one of the kiosks nearby and return, perhaps, with satay, crisp, succulent pieces of pork on sticks, eaten with a spicy sauce dip and cool cucumber chunks.  Most of you cannot remember that in Britain at this time we only had tea shops, greasy spoon cafes and fish and chip shops apart from the posh hotels..  Exotic foods were still in the future.

Soon it was the middle of August; time for the audition and only three puppets ready.  The acrobat had needed only his parallel bars and the other ready made puppet was screwed to his unicycle, its bright aluminium wheel tyred with split red rubber oxygen tubing and its Meccano gearing attached to the frame of old aircraft instrument parts.  The skater was completely new and made to the new standard of 24" (60cm).

The three were taken to a hut on camp where they took their turn to perform along with the other nervous, aspiring entertainers.  We were to stand on a bare dais and do our best to impress the visiting group of two RAF and one WAAF officer who were to lead the concert party, along with Changi's own entertainment officer who had organised the occasion. 

I had no music as yet but  luckily the pianist had already been chosen and was there to back any singers or dancers who might need his services.  He was good and after a short consultation played two suitable waltzes for the skater and acrobat and some excellent 'silent movie' type backing for the trick cyclist for which I had also made a see-saw and roller as props.  The performance was ragged and as I had not yet developed a wide range of movements, each act was kept quite short so as not to be tedious; a total of about five minutes for the three acts.  It was impossible to know how they well they had been received.

We all sat and waited whilst our fate was being decided but only two of us were asked to stay, me and a girl singer.  Apparently, most of the show had been settled, the nucleus coming from the the concert party of Seletah, the RAF flying boat station on the north side of the island.  We were both told to report there in a few weeks time for rehearsals before spending the whole of October touring bases in the Far East.

At two to three minutes per item, I still needed two more puppets to fill my 10 minute spot.  These were to be a dissecting skeleton and the Arab sand dancer.  The latter, in addition to the sand dance was required to do back bends, walking on hands and various contortions, so he had a spine of short horizontal bars interwoven with vertical tapes.  He was dressed in the traditional red tarbush and long striped 'nightshirt', by Kath, of course.  He had a long, sad face painted a pale green and was named, 'Honky'  from the service verb, 'to honk', meaning to be sick.  The skeleton was the traditional puppet, most puppeteers have one sooner or later.  I had only the vaguest idea how to string it but with some thread and a makeshift body of twisted wire, the best brains in the Instrument Section soon solved the problem.

I was hoping Kath could come on the trip.  In fact  I had told her that if she could not go then neither would I.  Unfortunately, we would be travelling in service aircraft and using normal camp billets which were considered unsuitable for families (Still much better, though, than the Guide camping she was used to!).  She could see that I was disappointed and being Kath, insisted I go.  With a couple of days back in Singapore in the middle of the tour it would only be two spells of less than two weeks each.  She, meanwhile, had  found the local church and Guiding organisation so was becoming involved in a local social life.

The time soon came to report to Seletah.  It was an enjoyable week getting to know the rest of the party and working with them.  The Zobbits, sorry, officers, I had already met at the auditions.  Squadron Leader Ernest Martin was in charge and he had an amusing line in comic monologues.  Flight Lieutenant James Tinline and Flight Officer Elisabeth Vincent were to look after accommodation and welfare of the party.  They were soon known as Uncle Ernie, Uncle Jimmy and Auntie Betty, respectively, if not respectably.  As a corporal I was the next senior member of the party. 

Working with Colin, the pianist, my puppet spot was soon polished into a presentable act but it was still a bit short.  I have always been conscious of the need to keep items short and interesting so decided to try and make another figure in the few days left before the start of the tour.  What could it be?  Kitchik, the Don's servant, had a 5 year old son, Jimmy, and as he called us Auntie Kath and Uncle Ted we often referred to him as 'Nephew' which he would repeat as 'Nee Foo'.  At least we had a name for the new puppet.  Two oval balls of newspaper (Singapore Straits Times) tied around with string formed the body and all limb joints were of string.  Kath made him a little pyjama type, Chinese suit in a silky green material and with his pill box hat and rope pig-tail, Nee Foo was born.  He was our juggler.  A stick (hollow bamboo), then a couple of wooden balls would slide down a nose string, remaining there unerringly through various manoeuvres; further balls landing on his hands would be thrown and caught on feet or pig-tail.

The puppets were to be carried in a large suitcase.  A trestle table-top with a long strip of  black material pinned around its edge rested on the case and formed the stage.  Another folding table was used as a bridge with a rope and cane contraption fixed to the top as a leaning rail and to hold the backcloth.  The cane poles were a bit flexible but adequate when tensioned with the rear ropes.  Nowadays I would lose the lower stage,  stand on the reversed upper staging and work in front of the back curtain but I was still influenced by the full proscenium stage which required one to hide behind a leaning rail..  Apart from the suitcase, everything folded flat or rolled up.

I do get annoyed by people who say they cannot make puppets or theatres because they know not where to obtain Juju wood or 2" slotted Dongle or Flooge card or that they lack flanging irons and other exotic items.  Instead of beating them about the head with a bladder on a stick as I should, I usually gently explain the merits of plastic bags, paper, string and rope, cardboard tubes and the whereabouts of the nearest resource centre.  You may have noticed my reliance upon rope and string; surely one of the strongest and most useful of materials.  Just look around you and get started.

The final bit of preparation was collected from the tailor; my outfit of black evening trousers with the black silk stripes, a pale grey 'lambskin' shirt, black bow tie and cummerbund.  I was ready.

Kath and I spent a quiet evening down on the sea shore, eating slices of cool tropical fruit from the flare-bright stalls.  A breeze blew gently among the tall coconut palms, a brilliant moon was reflected in the calm water gently lapping the sand at our feet and the morrow's parting was forgotten for a while.

Learnt: Learning to set up and perform anywhere.  How to make rough and simple puppets look good!  How controls must be specific to the actions of the puppet.