The Defending Officer's Dog: A Royal Engineer Abroad in the Second World War - Hardcover

Cripps, Jack H. H.

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 190217321X ISBN 13: 9781902173214

Publisher: Millrace, 2006

Synopsis

A war memoir with a difference: a lively, unaffected account which focuses on aspects of the Second World War seldom in the spotlight.

After several months in charge of a Royal Engineer training section at Clitheroe in Lancashire, Jack Cripps was posted to Kenya in 1942 to train African troops. He was just 20 years old. His vivid account of his years in East Africa, Ceylon and India demonstrate his resourcefulness, compassion and sense of fun. The narrative cuts between the sombre and the hilarious, from disarming a berserk askari to rickshaw-racing, from driving a truckload of volatile wet gelignite to bicycling around a crowded dance floor at Lord Mountbatten's headquarters in Kandy. The backgrounds are vividly drawn: the cedar forests of Mount Kenya, the fleshpots of Mogadishu, the Ogaden desert, coconut plantations in Ceylon and a bridging camp on the Ganges. And, finally, the long journey home in 1946.

About this title

From the Back Cover

The Defending Officer's Dog
A Royal Engineer abroad in the Second World War

Posted to Kenya in 1942, twenty-year old Jack Cripps was faced with a task requiring all his practical resourcefulness - to turn untrained African troops into combat engineers.

"Few, if any, would have any English, so we were to learn Kiswahili p.d.q. But first we were to Build Ourselves A Camp. This seemed just up my street. With the help of the Royal Engineers Pocket Book (1936), I got to work making out a formidable list of timber, nails, screws, doors, windows and corrugated iron that we would need for the first phase. On presenting the list at the CRE's office, we were told unequivocally that none of these things was available. There were, however, plenty of trees and grass for thatch..."

From courts martial to a canine haircut, grave-digging by moonlight to three-day old tea, Jack's memoir gives a witty, compassionate glimpse into wartime East Africa, Ceylon and India.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Back at Kurunagala, things were beginning to happen. Several other officers had gone sick and the Africans were rather unkindly saying that we must be going to war as all the white men were going to hospital. We moved to another camp with palm thatched huts - more comfortable but without the interest of the kabaragoyers. We were still not a proper unit and I knew very few of the Africans but there was one event that was to help me later: one of the askaris went berserk.

This was not that unusual. Coming straight from a fairly simple tribal existence, the askaris had to undergo a tremendous amount of adaptation to modern army life, especially in a technical unit. On this particular occasion, one had occupied a high mound in the centre of the camp and was threatening to shoot anyone who came near him. (We had been training with live ammunition and each askari had an issue of ten rounds.) I was glad that he was not my responsibility as I had no idea how to deal with the situation. I just wondered what I would have done if I were in charge and for the moment kept out of sight. Various people tried to reason with him but to no avail, except to have his rifle pointed at them, coupled with the unmistakable sound of a live 303 cartridge going into the breech of a Lee-Enfield, and a hasty retreat. Then the African sergeant-major came out, completely ignored the sound of loading but kept up a conversation something like this:

`We are all going to the war soon and we may well get killed. So kill me now if you like, but it would be much better first to kill a few Japs who have killed our brothers.'

All the time, he continued to walk calmly towards the hillock. When he was quite close, the askari dropped his rifle and went off with him.

Soon after this, we really were on the move. First, a few days of jungle-training in the wildest area of northern Ceylon. We arrived just as it was getting dark in the camp, which was surrounded by jungle. By the time I had seen that the askaris had suitable accommodation and a meal preparing, I came to the officers' quarters to find that all the huts had been bagged. The orderly said he would take me to the reserve huts. He led the way for about a hundred yards down a path so overgrown that he had to clear most of it with a panga while I held a hurricane lamp. Eventually we arrived at a timber-and-thatch block of cubicles, separated by palm matting. No doors but probably waterproof. We selected the cleanest and put up my camp bed and mosquito net.

After supper at the mess, I returned down the jungle path with my lamp. It felt, I must admit, a little creepy and rather isolated from civilisation but I was soon comfortably asleep under my net, with the extra security of my loaded revolver under my pillow, its lanyard round my wrist. I was a light sleeper and suddenly was wide awake - to the sound of deep breathing. For a moment I thought that someone was standing by my bed but soon realised that the breathing was from the next cubicle. How could anyone have arrived without waking me?

I had to investigate but had first to light my lamp. Then, lamp in one hand and my revolver in the other, I advanced slowly until I could see round into the next cubicle. There, standing peacefully facing the doorway, was a huge water buffalo, looking at me without a sign of aggression in his limpid brown eyes. I was soon happily asleep again and for the next few nights slept very lightly until my companion came in.

From Chapter Nine, The Defending Officer's Dog © 2006 The estate of J H H Cripps

About this edition

• Publisher: Millrace
• Publication date: 2006
• ISBN 10: 190217321X
• ISBN 13: 9781902173214
• Binding: Hardcover
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 192
• Illustrator: Shawe-Taylor Rose