RAOC Gazette - page 165
Image details
| Corps | RAOC |
|---|---|
| Material type | Journals |
| Book page | |
| Chapter head | |
| Chapter key | |
| Chapter number | |
| Full title | RAOC Gazette |
| Page number | |
| Publication date | 1978 |
| Real page | |
| Colour | No |
| Grey | No |
| Early date | 1978 |
| Late date | 1978 |
| Transcription |
put us on the right road for our next point which was Fatehpur, \ie a^ked us if we could furnish him with some tea. (No wonder When Jim politely told him that t ^ c fellow was so generous.) vi/e ^ouldn'J. he strode off in a huff across the road, stopped a "bus which was coming in the other direction and booked the driver for some obscure offence which we did not stop to find out. We rilled up with petrol at Fatehpur and headed for our first staying point—Muzaffargarh. We had so far kept good time so we decided to drive on to the next place which was Deri Gazi Khan situated across the Tndus river from Muzaffar- garh. Unfortunately we encountered yet another missing * road * and had to divert north for approximately thirty miles. We crossed the Indus at the Taunsa Barrage then headed south ale"3 the west bank about thirty miles to Deri Gazi Khan, It *-as 19,30 hours when we eventually got there only to find that Having travelled some W e couldn't get any accommodation. four hundred miles in the first day we were longing for a shower and a bed. We were directed to what appeared to be the only guest house in the town to find that it was being occupied by the Armed Forces. I even asked the police sentry at the gate if I could speak to a military officer in charge, but even after several attempts, it was all to no avail. We asked the sentry if we could park the Land Rover by the side of the guard tent (our intention was to sleep under it). He agreed, and a few minutes later the dear fellow turned up at the Land Rover door with a charpois (bed). Meanwhile Jim and I washed and prepared to eat—out of cans of course— when suddenly out of the blue appeared yet another charpois. Was I glad, as I didn't fancy sleeping ' top-to-tail * with 4 Bondy.' What heavenly bliss! That night, the moon and stars served as our blankets. A six o'clock start the next morning—destination Sibi. We travelled south along the bank of the Indus for a further five hours before changing course west for Jacobabad arriving there at approximately 1200 hours. Jacobabad is the hottest place in Pakistan with the temperature regularly at one hundred and sixteen degrees fahrenheit in the summer. We stopped for only a short while to drink a couple of bottles of * Coke * before heading north to Sibi. It was our intention to stay overnight in Sibi before moving on to Quetta, Alas! we encountered the same problem there as we did in DGK—the military forces had occupied the one and only resthouse. We were informed that Quetta was only two and a half hours drive from Sibi, so we decided to motor on. About twenty minutes drive north of Sibi is the Bolan Pass, a magnificent sight of high hills, military fortresses, river beds carved by glaciers, which were dry at this time of the year. After some two and a half hours of low gear driving we entered Quetta. The local police had difficulty in directing us to the Staff College. We were given various directions whilst driving along one road alone. Eventually we arrived at the Staff College at 19.40 hours—most unexpectedly; after all our one way journey was supposed to have taken three days, not two. Still we were made most welcome. After a can or two of beer and a chat about the route, Jim and I retired to our beds— the -nought of a shower, sheets and pillow cases was too much— ECSTASY! Mileage so far—eight hundred and nine. We spent two days in Quetta whilst the cookers were un- loaded and converted to take the gas bottles which the students had the misfortune to possess. During this time we did some shopping, sightseeing and horseriding. The less said about the latter the better, both Jim and I were total novices and were put through the paces in half an hour which one would normally learn in three months—the Pakistan Lieutenant Colonel in charge of the College Riding School left me with tender memories of Quat-a. For those readers who do not know anything about Quetta, I would like to point out that the Staff College was honoured in the early thirties by having Field Marshal * Monty * as its Chief Instructor. His bungalow still stands today at the entrance to the College. One of the students mentioned that the bungalow is to be reopened as a museum—a tribute to this great man. On the eve of our departure one of the students and his wife gave a small party for us in their garden where we met other allied students and their wives to the tones of ' Guten Av- n d,' ' G o o d on ya sport; * Howdy folks' and other forms ut welcome. Midnight saw Jim and I on our way to bed to b e up for a five o'clock start next morning; somehow we were pot looking forward to the return trip, particularly as we had to travel back the same route. However, we were on our way once more with the intention of driving five hundred miles the first day to Multan, an hours drive the other side of the Indus, where we could be guaranteed a nights sleep in a hotel. After some difficulty, we found the recommended hotel, a double room, no meals (nor an early call which we requested) for £15, We were a little disgusted to say the least with the service, but paid up knowing that a * 1771 * would soon put it right! The following day saw us homeward bound. A tank full of petrol plus two by four and a half gallon jerricans, ample water and the urge to see Islamabad again. Most of the road between Multan and Islamabad is desert and track but this did not deter us and we just kept on travelling as fast as we possibly could. So far our journey had been mainly problem free so naturally a little pessimism crept in. Low and behold after two hundred miles or so we started to get a little worried as the three or four garages on the road north had all run out of petrol. Plenty of diesel but no petrol. With no reserve fuel, I suggested that we stop and wait for the first lorry passing to give us a tow and that we shouldn't drain the tank for fear of damaging the engine. Suddenly up ahead we saw, (or at least at that moment we thought we saw) a garage sign, ' Could it be a mirage?' I asked Jim. Sure enough it was a garage. Alas! Plenty of diesel but no petrol. The Pakistanis at this oasis type fuel station (pointless calling it a petrol station as there was no petrol) were very polite and helpful and served us with iced water which we had previously avoided. Apart from tasting a little chalky it was delicious, Fifteen minutes or so later a lorry was sighted—I might add at this stage that there was only one *road* so evidently the lorry had to be coming our way—we gestured to the driver to stop and requested a tow but he apologised and said that he couldn't due to his load being overweight and the fact that his back axle was about to break at any time. We thanked him, sat ourselves down again and drank more water. Half an hour later another lorry approached, this time we were success- v ful. The driver towed us for thirty miles or so which took about one and three quarter hours. A garage, Yippee!! Alas—no petrol 1 To add insult to injury we developed a puncture brought to our attention by he local tyre repair man. Whether or not he purposely let the tyre down or not we will never know, but we left without paying him, unintentional of course, in our plight to get home. We found ourselves usually surrounded by villagers. One, a strapping young Pakistani gentlemen, offered to tow us to Mian- wall for fifty rupees (£3) and some whisky, a quick bartering calculation brought him down to thirty rupees. I must admit, I have never been towed at forty five miles an hour before. Low and behold—Mianwali, but alas—still no petrol. What now? Suddenly a moped drew up and the rider beckoned to Jim to grab a jerrican and to jump onto the moped—off he disappeared, shortly to return with the golden liquid we had missed so much. Having given our lorry driver Samaritan his thirty rupees we emptied the jerry can of petrol into the tank, zoomed around to the hidden Petrol Station and filled up completely. By this time we had lost about five hours travelling time and feeling tired, we had to make more effort to build up more determination to get home that evening. As night time crept upon us we started singing to keep our spirits up—Jim has a lovely tenor voice-—especially in the middle of the desert approximately one hundred and twenty miles from nowhere. Road signs suddenly started to become more prominant, and I might add, important, we both could al- most spell Islamabad backwards in Urdu . . , still singing, Home- ward bound, I'm coming home, Show me the way to go home, • Tie a Yellow Ribbon round the old oak tree even crept in somewhere. Over the hill, round the bend, next sign post, suddenly lights^Islamabad—what a beautiful sight! No more camels, no more sand, cast aside chapatis* See the missus and kids, nice long hot bath, followed by a cool shower, wash the sand from our throats and a lovely hot meal, with the adventure behind us. —Total number of miles—sixteen hundred and twenty seven in four days. The trip as a whole was an experience that I would never have missed. It was an exciting, interesting, fascinating, one time operation and both Jim and I recommend to anyone con- templating visiting Quetta by road—Don't! 135 — |
| Book number | R0247 |