Last year we looked at a postcard of the Indian hill station of Kasauli here. Today we have another image of the same barracks, but taken looking back the opposite way and this time showing the Institute as well:This is a black and white image that has been tinted to colourise it, this type of postcard proving popular around the time of the First World War. In the centre of the image is the barrack square itself:The barrack buildings of the depot surround it and are of typical Indian design; single story with broad verandas and high roofs to allow air to circulate:The Kasauli Institute sits on the hill above:The Kasauli Institute was founded in 1904 as a research facility for medical and public health under the directorship of Major David Semple RAMC. To start with it specialised in dog bites, its first year saw it treat 321 cases, this had risen to 22,000 by 1938. It was also a teaching institute and a 1904 copy of the British Medical Journal explained:
The laboratories of the Institute have been thrown open for the instruction of officers of the R.A.M.C. and I.M.S., and have been employed for clinical diagnoses of material from all parts of India, for the preparation of typhoid vaccine, diphtheria and tetanus antitoxins, and for research.
Today the facility is known as the ‘Central Research institute, Kasauli’ and the location specialises in vaccine research.
By the early 1930s the British Legion and the Haigh Poppy Fund had become firmly entrenched in British life and was doing sterling service in raising money for ex-servicemen and their families. The charity published a small pamphlet in 1930 that gave details of its work, what it spent its money on and how supporters could donate to the fund. The cover shows a large crowd in London, presumably at some sort of commemoration for the end of the Great War:The interior of the leaflet has graphs and details of the different causes the charity supported along with a small number of pictures:The rear has an advertisement for poppy wreathes that loved ones could purchase and arrange to have placed on a soldier’s grave:The Daily Mail reported on the preparations for Poppy Day in 1929:
Nearly 500,000 volunteers throughout the Empire, it is hoped, will sell poppies on Armistice Day, November 11. No fewer than 37,000,000 poppies and 20,000 wreathes have already been prepared at the British Legion factories.
An attempt is being made to collect not less than £750,000 this year for ex-Service men…
Approximately 4,000 local committees are busy preparing for November 11 throughout Britain and over-seas.
A big poppy motor mascot has been manufactured with a metal clip so that it can be fixed to motor-cars. Arrangements are being made for the distribution of these emblems in garages throughout the country.
This week we return to India again for our weekly postcard, which this week is a fine study of Dalhousie Barracks in Calcutta:I believe this postcard dates from around the time of the First World War and the building still stands today as part of the Indian Army’s Fort William. This description comes from a book called ‘Fort William Calcutta’s Crowning Glory’ by M.L. Augustine:
As soon as one enters the Fort through the East Gate, a massive structure of a four storeyed building captures one’s attention. Constructed during the period of Lord Dalhousie (Between 1848-56), this triangular building is named after him. It is the only building of its type in India that can accommodate an entire infantry battalion with its stores, arms, ammunition, and officers. A thousand bodies live, eat, sleep and train themselves for war on its premises. On the ground floor there is a temple. Ironically, next to the temple are the Quarter Guard, the armoury of weapons and the prisoners’ cells. It is said that Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose was once incarcerated in this building before he fled to Japan, though there is no documentary evidence to support this in any manner.
It was reported that when it was built, Dalhousie Barracks allocated 2000 cubic feet per man inside its building, equivalent to 111 square feet per soldier- at the time this was highlighted as being particularly generous compared to the overcrowded barracks used up to this point. It was also noted that as built ablution rooms and urinals were situated at the ends of the building on each floor for the use of the men, something that was again novel and new in military architecture.
The building has no doubt been refurbished many times over the century, but it remains in daily use by the Indian Army and is still a large and impressive building:
This week’s photograph is a magnificent study of a British Army column on the move through rural India between the wars:The column appears to be a light artillery unit and is entirely mounted, the officers leading on their chargers:A small group of mounted troopers follows close behind:Whilst the main column trails behind. There appears to be a succession of guns and limbers, each pulled by four or six horses, with the gun crews either riding pillion or on the limber itself:The column stretches away into the distance, curving round behind the bridge and shrouded in dust from the horses’ hooves:In the background a native village sits next to the road, its peaceful slumber rudely awoken by the passing troops:Behind this column would have trailed a large gaggle of hangers on, everything from cooks and servants to prostitutes and acrobats, all trying to part the soldier form his cash. Marches typically set off early in the morning before the sun became too hot and an advance part was sent ahead of the main column to prepare the following night’s camp. The camp was usually pitched near a small village or town and by the time the slow moving column reached it, hot and dusty, it would be ready for them. Apart for a few sentries, most men were then free to relax and visit the shops if the settlement was small enough. Any large town usually led to an order to remain in camp overnight. The following morning the camp was squared away and the process repeated until the column reached its final destination.
I am never surprised at the wide variety of equipment that was taken into military service and marked as such. If I can find something weird and wonderful that is marked for the Indian Army as well then so much the better. Tonight’s object definitely falls into this category and is a pair of Indian Army marked molar extractors:This dental tool has a large pair of jaws to clamp around the tooth for extraction:The handles are deeply grooved to aid grip and this tool is specifically designed for the left upper molars, as marked on the inside of the handle:Note also the /|\ over ‘I’ mark showing it was accepted into Indian Army service. The tool appears to be dated 1929, If I am interpreting this mark correctly:A circular maker’s mark is stamped onto the inside of the opposite side and indicates that this instrument was manufactured in England, before being shipped out to India:This is typical for the interwar period where manufacturing in India was not sufficiently developed to allow these items to be sourced in the sub-continent. The Second World War would see a massive increase in the capacity of the region to produce high quality medical equipment and by the time of independence India would be self-sufficient for this type of simple tool.
Visiting the dentist could be traumatic in the early twentieth century, as described by trooper Tom Canning:
Whilst in training with the Royal Armoured Corps in Barnard Castle, I broke a tooth which necessitated a visit to the Dentist.
Now I have disliked all forms of dentistry as it appears to be filled with people who enjoy hurting other people when there have been many ways of preventing pain of all sorts for many years past.
There was no escape however, and I started the trudge towards the 59th regts. camp some two miles away along the road to west Auckland, hoping that some strange disease had overtaken the Dentist, and that the appointment would be cancelled.
No such luck as I was ushered into the torture chamber. Sure enough I was now one tooth short of the establishment for fighting an enemy. ” I can rectify that” said the chief torturer ” I shall give you a new tooth”, and he proceeded to level off the offending left front incisor.
When he was finished he then suggested that I reappear – same time – same place next week.
The walk back to Streatlam camp was spent in musing how this Dentist could grow another tooth in my head, with no full understanding of how he was to achieve this miracle.
The next visit made it abundantly clear when he started drilling – upwards to-wards my brain ! After six weeks of this torture he then, like a third rate magician, produced this tooth on what appeared to be a very long spike. He then glued this “tooth” into my head – remember that this was way before the advent of “crazy glue” and other forms of adhesives.
On completion of this task he then handed me a mirror. ” but the tooth is blue” I remarked – ” not a problem ” he replied – ” it will be white as snow very soon”!
This I thought, was a ‘porkie” of great dimension which after four years overseas without the benefit of another dentist – the tooth remained blue.
Finally attaining civilian status, this blue thing finally fell off leaving this spike unadorned, much to the amusement of my Dentist who then established that in the course of my wanderings through Europe this spike had moved and affected many of my top teeth. The consequences of this were a complete overhaul of my mouth which left me in the position that should anything stressful occur in my mouth, all I have to do is to mail my dentures to the nearest dental mechanic for his attention and return mailing! No more Dentists for me!