Chapter 6

(Still 1952)

Far East Follies

 The Valetta coughed in the cool, early morning  air and first one and then the other of its two engines burst into life.  The eight man, eight woman concert party had its  own aircraft; spare space being filled with mail and supplies for the various places en route.  Taking off with the rising sun we headed north, up country to Butterworth, the jungle looking green and peaceful and belying the bitter struggle between the British patrols and the communist guerrillas being fought in its dense growth.  We were hardly aware of this war on Singapore Island except on quiet evenings when one could hear gunfire from the mainland across the straits.

Kath and I were lucky to have arrived at a time of peace on the island itself.  Only the year or two before there had been the the racial troubles known as the 'Merta Hertog' riots (Google 'Singapore Pages'/ Merta Hertog Riots) and all service families had been brought into the relative safety of the camps.  There were emergency plans in operation for a similar withdrawal in the event of more uprisings but these were not needed during our stay.  In fact we often went out into many odd areas and never once felt at risk.  Apart from the sea  front and dark alleys of Katong there was Geylang, further inland. 

The road between the two towns was out of bounds to me (not Kath, a civvy!) but sometimes we took a trishaw ride along it to visit Geylang market.  One evening we went there for the Chinese New year festivities and seemed to be the only Europeans in the place.  An elderly Chinese gentleman approached us.

"I expect you find all this a little confusing." he said indicating the the huge, smouldering joss sticks, the fire and dragon dances, the firecrackers, and the cacophonous percussion orchestra, all creating an inferno of noise, colour and movement under the black velvet canopy of the sky.

 "Let me try and explain."

He took us on a tour of the mysteries and helped us turn the nightmarish activities into a magical experience.

Then there was Bedok Corner, a lonely spot on the coast road towards Changi where some of the atrocities of the previous riots had occurred.  At night a few brightly lit stalls would appear and we would catch a bus and sample the delights of fried squid and other Oriental delicacies.  Shortly after we left the island, the troubles of mainland Malaya were felt in Singapore and there were bombings and shootings in the city.

The plane touched down at Butterworth and I offered up a prayer to the God of poorly flyers.  Not being a good traveller I have felt unwell on most forms of transport.  My method of survival on this and many other trips was to stay awake the night before and sleep through the journey.

On arrival the procedure was much the same wherever we went.  'Uncle Jimmy' and 'Auntie Betty' organised meals and accommodation whilst 'Uncle Ernie' escorted the rest of us to the theatre or area where we were to perform.  Once the gear was unpacked from the transport we went about our allotted tasks.  Rick, the stage manager, checked curtains, lights and general suitability of the stage; Colin would try the piano and with baritone, Tom, would check the acoustics.  I would make up my staging and push it back out of the way until required, hang the puppets, either behind the puppet stage curtain or perhaps find two convenient pegs for a hanging rope.  Jack and Steve the two comics checked their props. and record player used in their mime act.  The girls unpacked and hung their costumes, pressing them if necessary, then search for and cover spy holes in their dressing room, a need embarrassingly (for them) not discovered until well into the tour.  Groups would would then wander off looking for refreshment or sightseeing, usually leaving Rick and I to finish off tidying and setting the stage for the evening show.

Butterworth had a good theatre and it filled quickly for our first performance at 8pm.  We were a little tense when, at about 7.45 the power failed.  The audience grew restless, drunk and impatient in the darkness.  We sat backstage biting our finger-nails and wondering why we ever joined.  Power was restored at ten o'clock after two hours of ribaldry and bawdy songs.  It was the toughest audience of the tour but we survived and won them over to cheers and foot-stamping.  Butterworth was a two night stand so the next day we were able to go sightseeing.  A trip on the ferry brought us to Penang Island, the administrative centre of the area where, in spite of the recent Japanese occupation and the determination of the jungle communists to change the old order, the Colonials were in charge once more; the clubs and privileges were still very much in evidence.

The second night went very well with no problems and after the show we packed our things ready for another early start the next day.  Our tour was to have included Kuala Lumpur a small town with many Service camps ( I wonder what happened to IT?) but the jungle war was hotting up and it was considered inadvisable to take the girls into possible danger; a decision much appreciated by we male cowards. 

So our next stop was Ceylon (Sri Lanka).  At least it would have been in a larger aircraft but Valettas had to make a refuelling stop at Car Nicobar, a tiny island staging post in the Indian Ocean.  Its total service population was one officer and ten airmen drawn for a three month stint from personnel normally stationed in Malaya.  The camp consisted of an uneven runway, like Changi's, of PSP (Pressed - or is it 'Perforated'? - Steel Plate) over sand with a few rattan covered Nissen huts, half a mile away, in the jungle.

The technical equipment was equally minimal: one refuelling bowser, a Jeep, a battered old ambulance, radio transmitter and a few weather recording instruments.  It was normal practice for visiting aircraft to warn the airmen who then leapt aboard the Jeep and hurtled along the rutted track to the primitive airstrip to await the landing.  Everyone then lent a hand topping up the aircraft tanks, the bowser being replenished from an occasional visiting tanker aircraft.

Just before we were about to take off for Ceylon, another Valetta landed, on its way back to Singapore.  Two was a crowd in the limited space and the wingtips touched. The other aircraft suffered only superficial damage and after prising apart from ours (by flexing the wing down with a couple more bods) was able to continue but ours was considered unsafe with passengers and we had to await a replacement.  It could not arrive before next  morning so we had to spend the night there, thus more than doubling the Service population for the next 24 hours.

 Ted is the one kneeling     

 All the emergency food and bedding was opened up, odd corners found for  everyone to bed down.  We did not give our show as we were due to perform on the return trip when the local headman (or was it head-hunter?), his family and all the villagers would be coming; about 100 in all and it was too late to alter the arrangements.  Most would be making a day of it by walking from the other side of the island.

       Refuelling                           Heath Row it was not    NOT the in-flight catering (wild pig)  

 A party was quickly arranged at the "Dakotas Trail Inn", a tin shack masquerading as a social centre and beer store.  The weekly film was shown, a sort of dance was held, beer flowed freely and a good time was had by all.  The monsoon period was upon us and we weaved our way through a tropical downpour to the makeshift beds very late that night.

We were awakened about eight o'clock next morning by the Station Commander, a lowly Flight Lieutenant, hammering on the doors; our replacement aircraft was overhead trying to attract some attention.

In the air once more we were able to resume our disturbed slumbers as we continued our way across the Indian ocean to the RAF station at Negombo, just outside Ceylon's capitol. Colombo.  We were to give a couple of shows here, then north to the Naval base at Trincomalee, back to the hill station of DLA (Diyetalawara) with a final show at Negombo.  The Naval Base at Trincomalee was quite an experience for members of the Junior Service visiting the Senior; saluting the Quarter Deck  and riding on liberty boats (buses) 500 feet above sea level seemed a little childish but we humoured the matelots and thoroughly enjoyed drinking in their bar.  This was decorated as an old time ship of the line with a mock cannon and real square gun ports.  The sailors, in turn, appreciated the girls in the show, especially Sue and the Whickam twins, Moira and Valerie dancing their hula, "Tiger Shark".  The girls were quite apprehensive as we escorted them through the too friendly crowd in the bar later that night.    

 Our plane developed engine trouble and would be grounded until spares could be brought up from Negombo so the Navy kindly lent us a bus insisting, of course, that it was a boat.  It was beautiful travelling through the mountains and tea plantations of Central Ceylon.  One of our stops was at Kandy, the old capitol of Ceylon and the present capitol of Sri Lanka.  It had remained suspended in the time of the Raj.  We must have offended the left over Sahibs as they sat sipping their 'Chota Pegs', under the chandeliers, in the  Queen's Hotel.  Many an eyebrow was raised as we entered noisily in our shorts and  sandals and ordered tea and cakes with all the rowdy bravado of youngsters out of their depth.                                    

 By the time we left for Trincomalee we felt like old campaigners.  The show had settled into a steady routine, we knew each other's lines and the expected audience reactions.  The puppets proved popular and I was pleased that they were being accepted as normal adult entertainment.  Finding such audiences is not easy for puppeteers unless one is part of a revue show.  The normal reaction to a puppet show, even today is, "It's fine for the children.", and it took us many years to find an niche where we were accepted as genuine adult entertainers.  Twenty two years, in fact.  

Romance blossomed on the mountain climbing boat.  Colin, the pianist with twin Valerie, or was it Moira?  Comic Steve with singer Sue.  Song and dance girl, Vicky with stage manager Rick and Jack the other comedian with acrobatic dancer, Jean.  The latter couple becoming engaged before the end of the tour.

DLA (Diyetalawara) was high in the mountains among the tea plantations and being quite cool we were grateful for the hot showers; the lowland camps had only cold.  By the time we had performed for the Army and Air Force at DLA and again at Negombo, our plane was serviceable again and ready to take us back to  Car Nic'.  This time we were to give the show in the early afternoon, there being no fully lit stage, and then continue the journey, arriving at Changi the same night.

This was our only daytime show and we performed in the open using the veranda of the Dakotas Trail Inn as a stage.  It was the only show where the majority of the audience was non-English speaking.  We were met by the RAF contingent like long lost relatives and the whole place took on a festive atmosphere as the locals began arriving from all directions. We gave them all we had.  Colin played the ancient piano with such gusto that somehow it almost sounded as if it was in tune and had all its notes.  The first act was met with near silence by the islanders but once the idea of applause was established, everything we did was met with claps, cheers and roars of approval.  That was the norm for the unintelligible acts but such items as "Tiger Shark" and the puppets were received with rapturous leaps and arm waving.  It was most gratifying!.

We were secretly willing the 'plane to fail again but unfortunately our visit was a short one and in no time we were back in Singapore.

NOTE

Car Nicobar is a low lying island and suffered greatly in the December 2004 Tsunami.  The following is part of the news report:

"Major damage was done to the IAF (Indian Air Force) base in Car Nicobar by the huge Tsunami waves following Seismic movement off the coast of Greater Nicobar Island. The communication system in this area was completely destroyed and the only mode of communication was satellite phone.

Three days after the killer tsunami struck the situation in the Andaman and Nicobar Island was grim, with 10,000 people, half the population of Car Nicobar, missing. "Car Nicobar has a population of 20,000 and half of them are missing," Lt Governor Ram Tapase told newsmen. "Missing, however, does not mean that all of them are dead. We hope that many of them may come back. So far the body count is 309 from all over the islands," he said. 32 aircraft were making sorties to Car Nicobar and Campbell Bay carrying food and drinking water and also evacuating people.

 The Indian Air Force evacuated 900 personnel and their family members who survived the killer tsunamis that struck Car Nicobar island on December 26.  A helicopter unit of the IAF was based in Car Nicobar. The entire Air Force base in Car Nicobar island has been virtually washed away by Tsunami waves  (There but for the  grace..........Ted) with 23 air force personnel and their family members being killed. They were brought to Tambaram Air Force base in Tamil Nadu."

Full report to be found at:  http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/india/car-nicobar.htm

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Kath and I were able to spend a little time together while we did the shows at Changi, the Sunderland flying boat station at Seletah and the fighter bomber station at Tengah as well as the British Military Hospital in Singapore city.

The 'Home Tour' over we boarded our private aircraft once more and this time flew east.  The first stop was Labuan, a small outpost in North Borneo.  It had no theatre so we performed in the foyer of the combined civil and RAF airport terminal building to the most mixed audience of the whole trip; British troops, Indians, Malays, Chinese and even a few Japanese left over from the war!  It was here that I met the only puppeteer to contact me during the trip; a Chinese gentleman who came up after the show and spoke of his interest in puppets since childhood.  He was an amateur glove puppeteer from Hong Kong and we spent some time discussing the various types and styles from around the world.  By now, of course I was beginning to learn a little more of the world of puppets and realised that Britain was losing ground to the Eastern European countries; there were types other than marionettes and glove puppets!                                

Until now I had seen little of the Japanese invasion but here the fighting and been particularly heavy and much destruction was apparent.  On a walk in the woods around the airfield we came across a dump of a dozen or so British and Japanese Tanks rusting away in a huge crater.

Next stop, Clarke Field, the American base in the Manila Islands.  The theatre was a huge converted blister hangar and the biggest hall with, naturally, the biggest audience of the tour.   Unfortunately the Kelly Theatre was also the cinema and we were double billed with Abbot and Costello in Jack and the Beanstalk.  We prepared for the show behind the enlarged, distorted and reversed images of the popular film comics of the day.  The puppets must have looked tiny on the sixty foot (18mtr) stage) and I was concerned about them not coming across in the huge auditorium but I was surprised to learn later that although they were dwarfed by the stage, as were the other acts.  They were quite visible to the audience.

Stage manager, Rick, suffered a severe attack of the Trans-Atlantics.  He began to affect a Western drawl, picked up from 'Hump', our American driver who ferried us around the county sized camp.  Rick even tried cigars but decided the green complexion did not suit him and chewed gum instead.

We had hoped to do shows in Japan and Korea but once more the girls were not allowed into the war zone.  A 24 hour stay with the concert party would have entitled us to the Korean war medal.  So are heroes made!

The long suffering Valetta lowered it's undercarriage and made the long run in over the water to land on the jetty-like runway stretching out into the sea.  For the next week we would be staying at Hong Kong, the RAF Station at Kai Tak being the base from which we would visit the various camps and hospitals in different parts of the territories.  We went by rescue launch to the island, by army truck to the border with China, performing in theatre, hospital ward and shack, the appreciation of the show in direct proportion to the distance from the towns and bright lights.

There was a major refugee problem at that time and the hillsides around the city were covered with squatters huts and the variation between the haves and have nots was more marked here than in Singapore. 

Our aircraft hiccupped again and kept us waiting on the runway for a couple of hours whilst a fitter sweated at its overheated engine.  It finally carried us south again to our final engagement at Saigon.

There might have been political murmurings in French Indo China but nothing to indicate the terrible devastation that was to overtake the lovely land that became Vietnam.  We arrived about mid-day just outside Saigon and were to perform in the small but beautiful opera house with local singers and dancers; the audience consisting of French Service personnel and civilians as well as the local people. 

Saigon was a clean and beautiful city, the people friendly and charming.  We lads of the group were bowled over by the modesty and doll-like beauty of the dancing girls who opened our combined show.  The whole performance was a great success and at midnight we were being entertained most royally by the mayor with champagne and a delicious buffet.  When I announced that it was now my 24th birthday since midnight, it was decided that this should be celebrated with a visit to a night club.

So, after the party and with the help of our French Legionnaire escort and interpreter, we quickly loaded our gear into the transport and found a place not too far away.  What with the champagne and the drinks at the night-spot the memory of that night is a little misty but I vaguely remember dancing a sort of French 'Paul Jones' which involved the Mexican hat dance and kissing each new partner.

After only a couple of hours sleep, followed by breakfast and the loading of the plane, my method of combating airsickness worked so well that I, and most of the others, slept all the way back to Singapore.  It was my longest ever birthday.  Having started on the stage of the Saigon Opera House, it continued via a nightclub, two lots of sleep, an air trip, a reunion with Kath, with whom I share a birth date, a celebratory meal and ended with our favourite (well, second favourite!) pastime; walking along Katong beach under a tropical sky.

Learnt:  To accept just about any type of audience and to perform under virtually any conditions.