by Mike Edwards
Mukerjee seemed to have hit the nail on the head. For Harjinder, it was inspiring words from this youngster, because he knew that as far as the Airmen were concerned, they were determined to suffer, if required, but never give in. To have one of the pilots openly state that they all felt the same way, renewed their faith and determination. Sir John would not bring them down. His speech had the opposite from the desired effect. They all vowed to double their efforts to make sure the IAF would be known for only the right reasons.
With morale at an all-time low, and the powers that be looking down carefully, watching the progress of this tiny Flight of 200 personnel, you would think that the men would put themselves beyond criticism; however, not all seemed to understand as Mukerjee and Harjinder did. One day, when Flying Officer Mukerjee was on duty as Orderly Officer, and Harjinder the Orderly NCO, they went to the dining hall and saw Apprentice Misra sitting at the dining table dressed in a dhoti. Mukerjee asked him why he was not dressed properly for dinner. Misra looked up and casually replied that he was. Harjinder stepped in and told Misra to shut up, stand to attention, and behave, or he would be put under arrest. Misra, who had been studying the law before joining the IAF as Wireless Operator Mechanic, replied again, that he was dressed properly and pointed towards the notice board where instructions for dress were written down. Mukerjee and Harjinder were stunned. The instructions were very clear and they had always seen Airmen and apprentices wear slacks and shirts with long sleeves, no other dress being permissible. Groaning inwardly, Harjinder advised the Orderly Officer to place him under open arrest.
The next day Apprentice Misra was produced before Flight Lieutenant Bouchier, escorted in by Harjinder. As they stood to attention outside the Bouchier’s office, Harjinder noticed that Misra was carrying a big book under his arm. He told Misra nothing could be carried when on a charge, but in reply, he said it was his defence document. Now of all times Misra was looking for a fight.
When Misra was marched in before the Commanding Officer by Flight Sergeant Hill, Mukerjee gave his evidence. When Misra was asked by Bouchier whether he had anything to say in his defence, he replied; ‘Sir, I was properly dressed according to Standing Orders. The order states that Airmen will be dressed in pants and shirts.’
Brandishing the book he announced, ‘According to the Oxford Dictionary, a pant is a loose garment worn round the body and I was wearing a dhoti, which is a loose garment and it was round my body at the time of dinner. I am not guilty.’
Flight Lieutenant Bouchier looked as though he would burst a blood vessel. Pressure was mounting on the IAF Flight from above, and here was an airman deliberately causing a conflict. He banged the table with his fist with such force that ink spilt over from the bottle, the books fell down from the book stand, and his own solar hat jumped up on his head. He roared; ‘Shut up! You Indians are undisciplined by nature. That is why people like me are here and that is why British troops have to be here. You are great theoreticians, great philosophers, but that is all. You are no good for anything else. I am determined to teach you discipline. You are remanded to the Station Commander.’
Harjinder felt like murdering Misra, feeling that this trainee lawyer had brought great disgrace on them all, just as Sir John had said. He felt that all their work towards garnering the respect of their superiors was all for naught.
The uphill struggle was being made harder by Misra deciding to take a stand on something that Harjinder thought went with the territory once you sign up to be in a military unit.
Harjinder felt no sympathy two days later, when Misra was tried by Wing Commander Whitelock, awarded 56 days detention, and handed over to the Baluch Regiment for the carrying out of the sentence. The Baluchis were a hardy and tough lot of soldiers, and brooked no nonsense from anyone. Whether or not it was because so many of their Regiment had died at the hands of Sircar, or it was their standard treatment, they certainly gave it to Misra. Misra was a new man when he came out of dock, jumping up at every order given. However, those around him continued to see him as a hopeless case and he was discharged at the end of May, as an ‘undesirable’. His IAF career was at an end.
Another apprentice, a Pathan, was also awarded detention for 28 days with the Baluchis, although Harjinder does not specify his misdemeanour. On his return, he was so terrified, that he would not even pass by the side of the Guard Room. There must have been something special laid out for him by the Baluchis, because shortly thereafter, he committed suicide by jumping into the river.
On 11th May 1934, it was Harjinder’s colleague and friend, Ram Singh, who was called to appear before the Commanding Officer on the charges of entering the Station Canteen and ordering a bottle of beer. Again, Harjinder was the escort.
Bouchier, after hearing the charge, desperately tried to be sympathetic to Ram Singh, an engineer for whom he had great respect. He asked the RAF Corporal accompanying him; ‘Do you realise that the man you have placed on charge is a NCO as well? If your charge is proved false, I shall see to it that you lose your stripes. What proof have you that the rupee which Acting Hawai Naik Ram Singh gave to the man at the canteen counter was not meant for purchase of a bar of chocolate?’
The British Corporal saw which way the wind was blowing now and tried to assist with matters by replying; ‘Sir, I am not sure. It could be. I am sorry I have done this, and I shall never touch any Indian NCO again.’
Bouchier roared and said; ‘I will excuse nobody.’
He then turned to Ram Singh, and asked; ‘What have you to say?’, expecting he would take the hint and fall in line. On the contrary, Ram Singh said, ‘To tell you the truth, Sir, the rupee was in fact meant for a bottle of beer.’
Ram Singh believed in telling the truth!
Bouchier slumped in his chair, exasperated; partly because of Ram Singh’s folly, but mostly because his efforts to support his own man had been cast to the winds. His verdict; ‘Then you shall lose your stripes.’
31st May 1934 was written into Harjinder’s diary as the most important day in his life. He was married. Who would arrange for their daughter to marry a man who is one of the lowest of the low in military? A man serving in a military unit that might not survive the next year. A man, who in this job, seems to have everything placed in his way to stop him progressing any further. The parents of Beant Kaur had clearly seen that there was something special about this man. They saw somebody who was going to achieve, no matter what obstacles were to overcome. It was certainly controversial, and Beant Kaur’s brother, who was a respected Surgeon, was never told she was marrying a Hawai Corporal in this experimental Air Force. The future Mrs Harjinder Singh was every bit the match for the determined and driven Harjinder; ‘My wife who played an important role in my career is not one of the types who can be termed as modern, but has proved to be more than a match for the ultra-modern. She shared my Service Life as if she was a member of the IAF. She helped me in my service life, first of all by non-participation in other women’s gossip. Secondly, she never showed snobbery to the wives of the even junior-most servicemen in any of the units where we were posted. However, her greatest contribution was the way she changed her standard of living to suit that of mine. She came from a very well-to-do family.’
In those early days the truth was kept from her family. Harjinder also reveals in his diaries that he kept his status from his own family until 1938. Such was the lack of respect for the position he held.
12th June 1934 and the newlyweds were away on leave. In the middle of this blissful existence, a telegram arrived from Bouchier recalling him to duty. In a beautiful piece of understatement Harjinder writes in his diary that he ‘was quite put out’.
The Commanding Officer’s Flight Sergeant knew that the leave was because of the marriage, and since no war was on, Harjinder puzzled over Boucher’s reasons for summoning him…
On arrival back at Karachi, he was rushed in to see Flight Lieutenant Bouchier. The long, sad, face told a story. Bouchier began by warning Harji
nder that this could be the last leave under his command, because a serious breach of discipline had occurred. It so happened that on the evening of 9th June two new apprentices named Lorin Chand, an Electrician under training, and Iqbal Muhammad, a Wireless Operator, had decided to go to the pictures in Karachi and therefore had ordered early dinner in Mess. The dinner was served only fifteen minutes earlier than the usual time, at 6.30 pm. However, when the British NCO of the week came on his rounds and saw the two eating their dinner outside the allocated time, he took their plates away from them and threw them on the floor. The two trainees walked away from the table in utter fury. They waited till the following afternoon and saw this NCO taking a shower. They tiptoed up to the hook where his clothes were hanging and whisked them away to the nearest bushes. If they had stopped here, it would have made a statement, and in a humorous way, but the insult from the previous day was felt more deeply than that. When he appeared dripping from the shower and bemused by his missing clothes, he was set upon and beaten until he became unconscious and had to be taken to the hospital.
For beating this naked man half to death, Iqbal and Lorin Chand each received 56 days detention and were dismissed from the Service. The damage to the IAF reputation was obvious, and it played ever more into Sir John’s hands.
Bouchier was very generous in his praise of Harjinder’s leadership and the example he set for the men. No doubt, he wanted to boost Harjinder’s morale before he faced his men. Bouchier had picked up on the mood, and sure enough, as Harjinder went back to his bunk, there were many jubilant visitors who were frank enough to describe Lorin and Iqbal as the heroes of the episode and glorify their deeds. Harjinder strode through the men’s living area. He made sure his big frame and booming voice were perceived by all. Harjinder naturally commanded attention when he walked into a room so he didn’t need to resort to threats, but they all heeded the unuttered words that they were to fall back into line and move forward. They were fighting for their very existence, and Harjinder expected each and every man to do his part.
After the constant attack on their position, and the ever-hostile reception from above, and sometimes even from within, there was a ray of hope on 20th September. Unexpectedly, the first publicity for the IAF appeared in the form of an article in the Daily Gazette. Albeit very factual, there were cheers and claps from the Airmen when Harjinder read it out. It said:
‘Indian Air Force: A Year’s Encouraging Progress
A summary of important matters connected with the Defence Services in India during the year 1933-34 published by the Army Department states that the first unit of the Indian Air Force, which was formed at Karachi on the 1st April 1933, consisted of a nucleus of Squadron Headquarters and one complete Flight of four aircraft. The necessary minimum number of British Officers and Airmen has been attached to the unit from its formation, and during the year under review, the Flight was trained in Army cooperation duties and took part in the Sind Independent Brigade exercises.
During the year, four cadets were gazetted into the General Duties Branch after completing a two year course at the RAF College, Cranwell. One of these was posted to the Indian Air Force for duty after a period of attachment to a RAF unit in England, and the remaining three were still in England. Owing to an unfortunate flying accident in September 1933, two officers out of the five previously commissioned were killed.
The position on the 31st March 1934, was that four Indian Officers of the General Duties Branch and one of the Stores Branch were serving with the Force, and three officers were attached to the Royal Air Force units in England.
The training of apprentice mechanics and other classes of Airmen proceeded, and nearly 60 Airmen were on the strength of the First Squadron at the close of the period under review.’
It seemed as if someone knew that they existed, something they themselves had often doubted.
The article buoyed everyone’s spirits, and their morale was raised even further in November, when they took part in further exercises with the Army. They were back to practicing proper operational duties. They went back to the ‘extreme fishing’ of plucking the messages from the Army, placed inside the leather bag with streamers of coloured ribbons. The pilots loved the thrill of bringing their imposing machines down to 5 feet, skimming across the ground. The Army couldn’t help but be impressed to see these aircraft in such close quarters, and to see the Air Force at work. During these joint exercises, another big event in Harjinder’s life, and the future of the IAF, happened on the 10th November. There was a new addition to the Flight who stepped straight into this low-level training with ease. It was Pilot Officer K.K. ‘Jumbo’ Majumdar. When Harjinder met him for the first time, he refused to believe Majumdar was Bengali by birth, because he certainly didn’t look one. Firstly, he was as fair-skinned as a European; he was tall and well-built, with classical Greek features. He was a very engaging personality, and all took an instant liking to him. He looked every inch a leader of men, and was to prove a massive influence in the coming years, making history at every turn. Harjinder had just met his soul-mate.
Things may have been taking an upward turn, but the constant fight finally proved too much for Ranjit on 17th December. He was the senior-most Wireless Operator Mechanic who had trained in Mechanical and Electrical Engineering for five years in college with Harjinder. It would be a very, very, long time before they could train another such man, and it would be difficult to find another technician of his calibre. However, he had never really been inclined to the Service, and since the day he first put on the uniform, he had been cursing Harjinder for ‘conning him’ into the IAF. Some used the excuse of failing their trade test to get out of the military, but Ranjit was too proud to do that. He had proved that he was more than capable, but this life in the IAF was not for him. His exit was manufactured by replacing the sputum of a TB patient with his own during his medical, and by bribing the medical orderly. After his discharge, Harjinder was left with only two former class fellows.
Ranjit was gone, and the pin-prick attacks from the RAF personnel continued. In mid-December 1934, Harjinder went into the Orderly Room to get the Christmas application form for the leave due to commence from the next day onwards. After knocking on the door he entered, to be faced with a very angry Corporal Reed, red in the face, demanding to know why he had entered the Corporal’s Room. Harjinder pointed at his sleeve and said; ‘Please do not forget that I have the same number of stripes as you have.’
Spittle flew from his mouth as he replied, ‘I do not care about these Japanese stripes; Get out.’
Harjinder left the Orderly Room with ‘fire raging in my heart’ and when he saw Flight Sergeant Hill, he told him of the incident, adding that he would not like to keep these ‘Japanese stripes’. Corporal Reed was summoned by Flight Sergeant Hill and ticked off, but the Corporal still had his revenge. On leaving the hangar he met Harjinder again and said; ‘Sorry you will have no leave for the holidays. You have been detailed as Orderly NCO during Christmas.’
Flight Sergeant Hill called Harjinder to the Senior NCOs’ Mess. He had learnt of Harjinder’s fate too late, but tried to pacify him by saying that he would deal with Corporal Reed after the holidays. In the meantime, Harjinder was stuck on the base, unable to leave whilst all others departed on leave, or to seek other interests in Karachi.
The new year of 1935 began, but with the departure of an old friend and mentor. Warrant Officer H.E. Newing, was promoted to officer rank and was to take over a Wing at the Engineering Training School in Halton, UK. When he was due to sail for England, the Airmen who were trained by him took the long road trip to see him off on board the ship – such was the warmth they felt for this man. Finally, the time came for the Airmen to leave the ship, but Newing called Harjinder aside and said; ‘You know about the report which I showed you. You have improved yourself because I told you about your weakness. Please remember two things in life: Firstly, never back up anyone excepting on his merits; and secondly, never leave off using
your hands, even if you get a Commission. Remember how I have been at it, even though I was a Warrant Officer.’
Harjinder thanked him and promised him to remember his advice always. Looking back many years later, he thought; ‘Luckily for me, I kept my promise.’
A few days later, on 22nd January 1935, the first group of Indian Engineers were called to carry out the trade test of a Leading Aircraftman (LAC). Harjinder was an acting Naik (Corporal), with Ram Singh climbing to the dizzy heights of acting Naik, before he lost it over his ‘Beer Folly’. All were still Sepoys, basic Airmen until they passed the LAC test. They had been told different things by different people. Some had doubted that they would ever be allowed to take the exams, but suddenly, here they were. They had waited for this day with great expectation, on edge from the moment they knew the chance was theirs to take. Harjinder confesses in his diary that he had never been so worried before an examination, not even at his college exams. Harjinder was still a Metal Rigger, so the practical test required from him involved a very intricate drawing of a metal fitting, which had to be developed, and then manufactured in under eight hours. Newling had turned Harjinder from a theoretical engineer into a practical one, and after the hours and hours of additional work, he was fully confident. Knowing that he was more than capable of this task, he took his time in the calculations, and then carried out trial bendings on a piece of 16-gauge metal to make sure.
In the meantime, Warrant Officer Nicholas, the invigilator, came prowling, and on seeing what he viewed as lack of progress from Harjinder, he sneered sarcastically; ‘Naik, at this rate you will take a full week to finish your job. Look at the others. They are far ahead of you.’
Harjinder politely informed him that his instructor had warned him never to hurry a job on an aircraft. Harjinder viewed it better to hand over a 100 per cent correct, if unfinished job, rather than a complete, but sub-standard, finished article. Nicholas chuckled and left, looking forward to his gloating for later.
