'THIM DAYS IS GONE' [‎16r] (31/248)

behind the darker tiers of foothills seemed to be beckoning us
on. By early afternoon we would arrive at our campsite, unload
our mules, and have some lunch. There were still some birds
about which it was 1 eg i t i mat e to shoot for the pot, after the
camp had been put into shape and the animals groomed. Amongst
other useful knowledge (which I acquired from the Sergeant-Major)
was that a camp-site should not be chosen near long grass or
other cover. This was not because there was any danger of an
attack, but in case some enterprising villager might use the long
grass to conceal women who would lure the troops to amorous
adventure and almost inevitable venereal disease. Indeed one
couldn't help feeling sympathy for the soldiers in the sexual
desert in which our prudery condemned them to live. (Only senior
N.C.O.'s of many years service were allowed to have their wives
with them in India) .
In previous years, units had been permitted to maintain brothels
under medical supervision for the relaxation of the men. But
some officious Vicereine had put an end to this. I may mention,
in passing, the story of the medical officer who, on examining a
soldier, asked him if he had ever had V.D. before - to receive
the reply "I'm a martyr to it. Sir!"
As we came to the first signs of the great plain ending in
undulations, which could not yet be dignified with the name of
hills, we passed close to an unprepossessing village with
unsavoury tumble-down mud houses and an equally unsavoury
reputation. This was Chandigarh, later to become the capital of
the Panjab and to be transformed by the great architect
Corbusier. Almost the next camp was Kalka, the rail-head of the
broad-gauge Indian railway, and also of the narrow-gauge mountain
railway up to Simla. From there on for some fifty miles, every
step seemed to carry one an inch or two upwards, every hill was
higher than the last and every valley deeper. The vegetation
also changed, and the Northern slopes became green while the sun
still allowed very little to grow on the Southern slopes. In a
day or so we reached the Himalayan pines and then the Deodars and
Rhododendrons and the sight of Simla on the saddle between higher
cedar-clad mountains.
The aspect of Simla from below was far from impressive - a huddle
of tin-roofed shacks spilling down the hill-side - but when one
reached the col and the inevitable Mall Road things were somewhat
better. In contrast to the widely spaced single-storey mud
bungalows of the plains, the two- or three-storey houses and
shops were packed together, and much wood had been used in their
construction. It was obvious that nostalgia for "home" had
inspired the builders to make them look as European as possible,
and some looked reminiscent of Swiss chalets.
Jutogh, when we reached it after a further hour's march, was
charming. There was a small parade-ground, surrounded by
unobtrusive single-storey barrack buildings set among trees, and
looking down on it from across a little valley, the officers
mess in its garden. The single officers lived on the upper floor
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