by Mike Edwards
Harjinder was ready to leave his No. 1 Squadron when the time came, and on 1st February 1943, after ten years continuous service he flew up to Air Headquarters to be interviewed by Air Commodore Proud, Inspector General of the IAF. He was to be appointed President of the Initial and Re-selection Board at the Recruits Training Centre at Walton, Lahore. It must have been difficult indeed for Harjinder to think of leaving a life in active combat and his family in No. 1 Squadron, for what was effectively a desk job, but Jumbo was one step ahead as always. He was straight on the phone with Harjinder:
‘I have specially chosen you to go over to Lahore, because I have found very low-morale men coming into our Service. 30 per cent of them desert within a month of their arrival. I want you to see that we get more enthusiastic material. Our objective is to put as many Indians into uniform as we can, wherever they can be absorbed, so that we can readily form No. 10 Squadrons for the IAF when the time comes (The idea of the No. 10 IAF Squadrons burned at the very heart of Jumbo). I have impressed on Sir Richard Pierse the urgent need for a large number of Indian Airmen to work with the RAF. I have convinced him of this necessity by telling him that British Airmen may not stand up to the malarial climate of Burma where we will have to fight the Japs for a number of years to come. He has agreed with me and has decided to recruit twenty thousand Indian Airmen. In fact, my object is to train the main bulk of a future Indian Air Force in this guise. The war, when won, will bring in its wake a new awakening in our country. The soldiers who are fighting in the Middle East and Burma will not long be content with being a subjugated people in India. We are on the eve of great political changes and during the process we must have a strong Army and a strong air arm to support it. This is my aim as much as to fight the war in Burma.’
Jumbo knew how to press Harjinder’s buttons; by giving him a challenge, and giving him the end goal. It worked:
‘I left for Lahore inspired by his vision; determined to work for him with missionary zeal.’
For Harjinder, it was good to be back in Lahore, and back in the Punjab region. However, when he walked into Walton Base at Lahore he was shocked at what he saw. The new recruits were made to rough it out in tents just as he had done 10 years before. There had been no improvement in that time, and the attitude towards the new recruits seemed so familiar to him. The British Sergeants and Corporals seemed overly harsh with their charges. Harjinder was a strict disciplinarian, but this was too much even by his standards; he immediately set to work to sort things out. He met the Officer Commanding, Recruits Training Wing, Flight Lieutenant Cox, and was pleasantly surprised:
‘An excellent type. He was one of those rare Englishmen who genuinely liked India and everything Indian, at least, he is the first Englishman who ever said so.’
Harjinder knew the Boss of the Station, Wing Commander Blandford. He had been a Warrant Officer during Harjinder’s time in Karachi, and he knew him to be keen on discipline. He explained to Blandford that his target was nothing less than to reduce the number of discharges to zero.
Two days later, he interviewed the first batch of recruits. He discovered that all of them had one thing in common; they had been lured into uniform by false promises made by the recruiting officers. During his rounds, he came across a recruit called Jagdish Awasthi, who explained in Hindustani, that he had been a tonga-walla (a horse and cart man) and could not speak a word of English; that the Recruiting Officer had duped him, and therefore, asked for a discharge on those grounds. He did look the part, with an unshaven face and dirty clothes.
Harjinder wanted the best for his Air Force, and was deeply annoyed over this man’s story, and so sent out a telegram to the Recruiting Officer asking for the man’s original papers. When he received them, he was thunderstruck to see that the man was, in fact, studying Science. It was clearly a pretence; he would soon settle that! Harjinder called the man in for an interview before the Board and spoke to him in Hindustani. He apologised to him for the conduct of the Recruiting Officer and promised to take action against him. Then he turned round and spoke to the members of the Board in English; ‘Gentlemen, here is a very smart, physically fit recruit. He would make a good Infantryman. We should transfer him to the Army as a recruit. We need soldiers more than Airmen, because of the heavy casualties the Infantry has sustained in the Middle East.’
As he spoke these words, Harjinder noticed the recruit looking intently at him with raised eyebrows. All of a sudden he burst out in English; ‘You can’t do that, Sir, I have signed only for the IAF!’
The cat was out of the bag. He broke down and confessed. Harjinder then reasoned with him and appealed to his patriotic sentiments, which worked. He decided to stay on, and was allotted a Radar Operator’s trade.
The 1st April 1943 was a very proud day for Harjinder, as he marched at the front of the local parade to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the IAF. Ten years ago, Harjinder had given up everything to become a Sepoy and now, as an Officer, he paraded 500 recruits, very smart in their uniform, and well-drilled in their marching. The damning words of Sir John Steele must have come to mind as he looked out over his men, the future of the ever expanding IAF. These men were no disgrace, no, not by a long shot.
Things were not smelling of roses, however. Fifteen days later, Harjinder did see the more unsavoury elements that had developed in the IAF. The local Air Force Recruiting Officer sent him his recommend list of ten new recruits for commissioning immediately as officers. It was a great power vested in Harjinder, the ability to pick out a new recruit and make him instantly into an officer. For the individual recruit it was a golden opportunity. Harjinder noticed that all these ten new recommended recruits were by no means the best of the bunch, but they all belonged to the same community that this particular Recruitment Officer hailed from originally. List denied! The Officer threatened Harjinder with dire consequences if he didn’t pass the list, but was told in no uncertain terms that since Air Headquarters had so much confidence in him, Harjinder would be the last person on earth to abuse their trust.
Harjinder was to be tested again shortly afterwards, when the uncle of one of the recruits appeared and asked if he was looking for a small Austin car. Indeed, that was the case, but only a secondhand one. Harjinder simply assumed that this man must be a car dealer touting for trade. The man continued; ‘But supposing you get a brand new one for the same price?’
This does seem a little naïve of Harjinder, but he thought that this man must be offering some money-lending scheme, common practice amongst the officer class in those days. Harjinder told him that he was an engineer, and would prefer a second-hand to a new car, because he liked tinkering with the engine. The next exchange left Harjinder in no doubt as to what was being offered, and rendered him almost speechless;
‘Sahib, make hay while the sun shines. You are in this chair and you have great authority. You will not be here always. You have the power to discharge recruits. All I want is that you should discharge one of the men, my nephew. I will present you a brand new Austin plus a cheque for five thousand rupees.’
He qualified his statement by adding; ‘My nephew is the son of an ex-minister of Kashmir State. His mother, who is a widow, will spend any amount to obtain his release.’
Corruption was commonplace in India, and while Harjinder had encountered it before, he had never seen it on this scale. He was taken aback, and it took him a second to regain his composure, as he tried to get this persistent man to leave. Then, finally, his brain caught up with the events and kicked into overdrive. An idea came to him to help root out this evil; he would arranged a trap. He finally gave in to this man’s offer and told him to meet him again at the office at 9 o’clock the following morning. Just before leaving, the man produced an Air Force form for Airmen’s discharge, duly completed and ready for a signature. He seemed to know all the procedures.
Harjinder promptly went to the Station Adjutant, where they put together the details of a police trap. They called in the magistrate and by
the following morning, all was in place. It was a scene straight out of the cinema, a curtain hung dividing the office in two parts; behind the curtain lurked the magistrate and a police officer, ready to pounce. In fact, it felt like the whole morning’s events should have been only in black and white, just like in the movies. The man in question, accompanied by a friend, arrived at 9 am sharp. He introduced the other man as the maternal uncle of the recruit. They got down to business straightaway. Harjinder repeated all the negotiations as loudly as he dared:
‘I must repeat the terms that you have offered. If I sign the discharge certificate of your nephew, is it understood that in return you will give a cheque for five thousand rupees and a new Austin car?’
The man beamed all over and said; ‘That is correct.’
‘You do not want me to do anything else? In other words, this is the price just for one signature?’
He seemed delighted, nodding as he confirmed what was said once again. The form was signed and the cheque for five thousand rupees was duly handed over. Then came the registration book of the car, and a letter to the Regional Transport Officer requesting for the transfer of the car.
Harjinder had heard enough and, as pre-arranged he rang a bell to indicate the moment for the trap to be sprung. In the cinema the police would jump out, the guilty man would try and make a run for it but be caught by the gallant policeman, who wrestled him to the floor. That certainly didn’t happen! What unfolded was completely bewildering. The police officer came forward from behind the curtain but instead of arresting the culprit, he stopped suddenly, rooted to the spot. He drew himself up to attention producing a smart salute. The magistrate looked at the policeman; he looked at Harjinder; he looked back at the policeman in complete confusion. The bewildered Harjinder lost his temper and shouted at the police officer; ‘Well, why don’t you arrest him?’
The so-called culprit beamed at Harjinder and said; ‘Actually, we came to arrest you but now you want us to be arrested?’
It took a few seconds, but the penny finally tumbled to the floor. It had been a double-trap, to entangle Harjinder! The culprit was actually a very senior Crime Investigation Officer, and the man accompanying him was also a magistrate. They had picked a recruit’s name at random from the list and concocted their story. They had wanted to prove that any recruit could be discharged provided the price was paid, and, additionally, they wanted to show that Harjinder Singh could be bribed. In a time and place where corruption was the norm, Harjinder proved himself incorruptible.
The senior officer from the crime unit warmly shook hands with Harjinder and congratulated him, apologising for the embarrassment. The surprises didn’t stop there, because a few days later in Delhi, when Harjinder told the story to Jumbo, it seemed that Jumbo knew more about the events than Harjinder did. Jumbo laughed:
‘Well done. I knew it all the time but I had to take up Tull’s challenge. He is an Internal Crime type here and said that Selection Board officers were making a lot of money, and that you must be in it too. When I told him that I had as great confidence in you, as in myself, he said that he had heard differently. The Recruiting Officer (who produced the list for fast commissions that Harjinder had turned down) had sent in a report against you. So I agreed to let them try to trap you.’
In celebration, Harjinder went out, and bought his secondhand car, an old Austin 10, for one thousand rupees and, yes, he did tinker with it for a number of years!
Having proved his honesty, Harjinder now had to work on the desertion rate of the recruits. He had dramatically reduced desertions by treating them all with dignity, but that had not entirely stopped the rot. One day, two deserters were brought back by the police, but before they were placed under arrest, Harjinder took the chance to discover the ‘whys’ behind their actions. The main ‘why’ was surprising: they only were given two chapattis at each meal! It seemed that any recruit who asked for more was abused and sometimes even placed on a charge. When questioned about this, the Officer Commanding reacted violently to the ‘allegation’, and accused Harjinder of trying to defame the Station Administration. A junior officer was called in and asked if the statement could be true, but he denied it, staring daggers at Harjinder, so much so, that Harjinder did start to feel a little stupid bringing up the whole chapatti subject.
A month later, the head of the Qadiani Sect of Muslims wrote to the Officer Commanding making an identical allegation based on what some of his people in the camp were telling him. The Officer Commanding summoned Harjinder, and, when told about the fresh allegations, Harjinder offered to take over the running of the Mess to get to the bottom of it.
His first step was to seek out a reliable man to put in-charge. He chose a man with a flowing white beard, known to be very religious, telling him that he would be in-charge of the ration store. He then appointed a Messing Committee from amongst the Airmen. He calculated how much the messing allowance, and additional recruits’ contributions, should purchase per day. A few days later, he carried out a surprise check on a Saturday afternoon, when rations for the next two days should have been in the store. Harjinder was shocked to see the real state of affairs. There were not sufficient rations in store for a single meal for these 6,600 men, so he called in his newly appointed head cook, took him to task and asked for an explanation. The bearded man broke into tears and the story came flooding out. The previous Messing Officer seemed as effective as a chocolate teapot, and had not bothered with any supervision over the stores. This had given the Flight Sergeant free reign to abuse his position, and to run a racket in collusion with the contractor, who supplied the rations. The amount was drawn in full only on paper; most of it never came into the Mess. For a man as principled as Harjinder, this was deeply offensive, but he had to have proof. The Station Security Officer, Flying Officer Deane, was an ex-policeman, so took to the task with relish. They raided a merchant’s shop thought to be acting as the receiver, and, sure enough, sacks full of sugar and tins of ghee were found still with the Government seals intact! The owner followed the lead of the head cook and broke down in tears. With the tears came the confession that he had been dealing in the stolen Air Force rations since the Depot was opened. Acting on further information, the police raided a well-known house of dancing girls in Lahore and found a similar hoard of Air Force rations. The Flight Sergeant, with certain other friends, had been spending thousands of rupees a month on these dancing girls, while the Airmen recruits starved and deserted. He was tried by a General Court Martial and sentenced to 18 months rigorous imprisonment. Meanwhile, back at the Mess, the food was delivered as it should have been, with more than enough for all. Not a single complaint was heard again, and the desertions ceased.
Harjinder then set about re-allotting 5,000 men from clerical jobs, to ones of a technical nature. Many of these men had been cajoled into joining the clerical line by recruiting officers but, Harjinder also had his eye on building up the IAF’s technical department. However, Harjinder was suddenly hauled up before Air Vice-Marshal Collier for having ‘sabotaged’ the war effort. It seemed his scheme had left Head Quarters desperately short of clerks, and how could they be expected to shuffle their paperwork without office workers! Harjinder defended his point by bringing attention to the drop from 30 per cent desertions to almost zero, claiming that the re-allocation had achieved that; failing to include the information on the improvement at meal times. The subterfuge worked: He was even complimented for his action.
Harjinder got involved with individual cases, which once again led him down a dangerous path. A young Bengali recruit, called Kapila Chatterji, held a master’s degree in arts and had been a teacher of history at Tagore’s Shantiniketan University before he joined the IAF. He suddenly took it into his head that the armed forces of India were the tools of British Imperialism, and was asked to resign. In a discussion with Harjinder which lasted six hours, Chatterji told Harjinder all about his own ideology and his belief in the Indian National Congress. This was a matter close to H
arjinder’s heart so he argued that India must fight alongside the British, for the time being, and help them win the war, thus winning Dominion status. Before parting that evening, Harjinder assured him that one of them must convert the other, and so, the debate continued over the next fortnight. Although Chatterji was a good debater, Harjinder finally convinced him that he ought to stay in the Service, or at least that was what he thought. Perhaps what really decided it for him was a letter from his anxious mother urging him to remain in the Air Force. As she was a widow, and he the only child, he agreed to serve on.
On 1st August 1943, Harjinder was called in the Station Commander’s office to be confronted by Air Commodore Proud, Inspector General of the Indian Air Force. Proud was cordial, almost friendly, as cups of tea were offered and they sat on a sofa together. However, he did not mince his words and revealed his real intent:
‘What are your political views vis-à-vis the British in India and the war? Do you believe in the “Quit India” gospel?’
Harjinder had never been afraid to give his frank views:
‘I joined the Indian Air Force for nationalistic reasons, to help form a strong Air Force of our own, so that we would not have to depend upon the RAF to defend us when we became a Dominion. This is what I still feel.’
