Library Reference Number: 104
Gourmets
Qualifying as a Pilot in Canada, and subsequently posted to No.52 Squadron in the Far East, Ted Bracken had completed 34 crossings of `The Hump' into China. This being part of his many flying operations in many strange parts of India and Burma while transporting or parachute-dropping troops, Ted reckoned he had eaten in many odd places, until the following situation arose:-
After a long, bitter war with the Japanese employing barbaric tactics, British troops regained control in Rangoon. This was quite an important milestone in the war in the Far East, with Britain retaking Rangoon on 3rd May 1945. On 27th May,1945, crew, aircraft and self were at Imphal, north Burma about to return to base, RAF Dum Dum, Calcutta, when we were ordered to proceed to RAF Mingaladon, Rangoon, and hand over our aircraft to a waiting crew, then remain overnight until another aircraft arrived around mid-day, when we would load some Army V.LP.s and take them to Calcutta.
We arrived at Mingaladon and as there was still a lot of daylight left, we decided to hit town - Rangoon. Leaving camp we were informed that as we were unarmed we would require an armed escort. Loads of squaddies were hanging about, and two were delighted to escort us. A large Army lorry was available, and a West African driver leapt into the driver's seat. It was only at this minute I believe, he realised it was not an ox-cart that he was in charge of, but some new-fangled system! We kangarood down the road from camp, and on the journey I made up my mind that I would never be afraid of flying again, as lorries were much more dangerous.
Arriving in town, we noticed the famous Shwe Dagon Pagoda and banged on top of the cabin for the driver to stop. This is where knowing how to perform an emergency stop comes in handy, and our man used his technique - and drove straight into a lamppost. Separating ourselves from the floor, we de-lorried and checking that the driver was unhurt, we left him, bonnet wrapped round the post with the steam making it sauna-like.
A fair walk to the centre of town, but it was hardly worth it because although most buildings weren't too badly damaged, the streets were covered in weeds and overhead cables drooped to the ground, and there were very few local people to be seen.
Food now became a priority but not a caff in sight. It was suggested that Chinatown would be the best possibility and off we set. Eventually we found two shops open, one selling Burmese cheroots, and the other with a blackboard outside with "Eggs" written on it.
We went into the first shop and bought packets of cheroots, wrapped in cellophane and looking good. It was only after opening the packet I found the snag. After lighting, I took a couple of puffs, inhaled and then heard a strange whooshing noise only to find that I had held the cheroot with the lit end below the mouth end, and a pile of embers had fallen from the inside of the cheroot. Looking more closely after extinguishing the fires from shorts, bare legs and shoes, it was seen that the outside leaf held a collection of small wooden chips, and what looked like floor sweepings!
Now for nosh, as we piled into the second shop which looked as if it had probably been a stable. We sat in a corner and asked for eggs. Around half an hour later, stained wooden plates appeared with some fluorescent orange goo, and suddenly, although I'm a good trencherman my appetite disappeared. I offered my feast to the soldier sitting next to me, who couldn't believe his luck, and quickly started on his `seconds.'
While he was working his fingers well (no cutlery or even chopsticks supplied), I asked him where he had been in Burma. He told me of his advance south as far as Ramree (an island in the Arakan) and how he had been hospitalised. Showing some interest, I asked him why he had been admitted to hospital. His matter-of-fact answer was "Food poisoning - I can't think of where I could have got it!"