13th October, 1943: Sharjah to Karachi, India at last

With the passenger on board we took off once more. Once more we over the gulf. Small islands looked much larger than they actually were and the shallow water did not hide the sand beneath. We passed one small town on the coast - just a cluster of buildings isolated from everywhere and everything. These people must also have lived on fish - and maybe some camel flesh. One cannot tell from the air, but there seemed to be nothing else in sight - no other place of habitation, and no sign of any vegetation. In the gulf, two or three fishing boats sailed up and down. Presumably, they were seeking the only food available to them. 

We arrived at Sharja[h], a similar, and as we flew over the town prior to landing, I could distinctly see that these houses were built of cane-grass, bamboo etc. This is a town comprising of a closely built cluster of untidy looking grass huts or houses - not in streets - no attempt had been made to build streets - where a house was wanted it was built. One or two boats, either hauled up for repairs or derelict were up from the water. A few more sailed up and down a few miles out from the coast. 

The camp, like the town or village, looked poor and lonely, and those people must have felt like a small lost colony. Here we had some really good tea at the tiny mess, and some mineral water. The food, apparently, according to the fellows stationed there, was not all fish. Provision must have been brought by air, but this would have been impossible to other towns because a good landing ground is most essential.

 

From here on to India, I expected to see some vegetation, some signs of life and existence. One sees these countries marked on maps, and I personally never think of a land without people, towns and some form of social life. By that I mean, people who can live together as civilised human beings - building towns and villages - and linking these up by roads. But from Sharjah on - this is not so. 

We skirted the coast line of the most cruel desert I could imagine. High mountains like huge forts hewn in solid rock, jagged like knife edges, and pointed like spears seemed to terrorise any living thing away. I had seen pictures of high-peaked, cruel barren mountains on the moon, here I actually saw what must be their equivalent upon the Earth. To add to all this, the sun beat down relentlessly and mercilessly, day after day - shrivelling up anything that might contain life. The distance was obscured from view by heat haze and by a dust-laden atmosphere. 

The only thing that really appealed to me was the grotesque shape of some of these mountains, like huge giant castles, and so real did old fables and fairy stories come to me that had I seen some dreadful giants, I should have accepted them without surprise. To hear the screams of the heroine coming from these huge towers would not have been entirely unexpected. Heavens, what a hell upon earth. In Britain we see mountains and valleys, worn by water actions, the curves are gentle, any cruelty is hidden by trees. Here we have rocks split and torn asunder by the intense heat of day, and the coldness of the nights. This is the Baluchistan I saw. 

By the time I began to think that most of the countries of the world were huge deserts in habited by a few unfortunate people who were born there, and had no means of escaping from the fate of living such a difficult existence. Much of the lands in this world do not seem worth fighting for - much land was not worth accepting if offered for free. Yet wars are sometimes caused because some idiot wants such territory and other idiots do not wish him to have it. 

We entered India proper and yet we found no vegetation, still a desert, and finally Karachi opened out in front of us - a huge city spreading its suburbs out into the desert. Just as this small part of India is no indication of what the rest of India is like, neither do the parts of the countries I saw indicate the whole of them. Seeing is believing, and I can believe the small parts I saw. We landed and were questioned about the route, about our food and billets. This appeared to be a good one. If they were concerned with out welfare over the journey, they certainly would be concerned about it at this place. 

We did not stay at Mauripur, the transport took us to Bhustpore Barracks in Karachi. This had been an army camp, and was run by the army. We arrived there soon after dinner time, and although, when we did get there, we had had nothing since five that morning - we were not to have any that evening. We were too late according to army regulations. Why is the R.A.F. so short sighted. We could have been given a meal at the R.A.F. station when we landed. However, after about an hour we found somebody who could provide us with something. 

It was well after nine o'clock before we got our blankets. That was our welcome to India, were we really wanted out here. I felt easy about it, I did not mind going back. No volunteers were asked for.