Proceed to Peshawar. George J. Hill
goats and irrigation is still done with Persian wells. There are ponds with water-buffalo and water-chestnuts in them, and the dhobis [washerman/woman (Hindi)] wash their clothes by beating them on stones, while their sway-backed little donkeys graze with hobbled forelegs near-by.
In the villages the trees are still thick, with the cleared off thrashing floors, the mud huts with the animals tied outside, and the women still making dungcakes for cooking. It is India all right!
[Wednesday 19 November] We stopped to take our lunch at Fatehpur-Haswa, where my father is buried.8 I saw that the Grand Trunk Road was not paved, and caught a glimpse of the great Peepul Tree in the monkey temple yard where they feed the monkeys in the evening. It’s quite remarkable how I seem to feel the texture of the white dust everywhere, and to know the smell of the grasses, and the sound of the trees.
At Etawah, tea was brought in.9 The same old buck-monkeys were in the station courtyard—with the oxen and bullock carts parked by the road side, with the animals lying along side ruminating. I remembered from childhood hearing the Punjab mail going by our house in the early morning at Etawah, and I remembered where the tracks were from our house. Our bungalow wasn’t visible because it sits back from the road. As the train crossed the Grand Trunk Road I was pleased to find it still unpaved, with nary a motor car in sight, but a line of camels, carts, and horse-drawn ekka [buggy], all waiting for us to pass at the same old crossing with its iron gates.
In the fields, during the day, I saw some gorgeous peacocks pecking among the lentils. When evening fell, the cooking smoke streamed out whitely among the mango trees and I could see the little dung fires with dim shapes moving around them. To me it was a kind of reincarnation.
[Saturday 22 November] In a few minutes I must dress in uniform to have dinner with General Sir Archibald Wavell whom I met the first day. It’s to be kind of an American affair with General Wheeler and his party, some of whom I met in Washington and some in Honolulu. . . .10
[Sunday 23 November] I greatly enjoyed the dinner at which were about fifteen—three of us Americans. General Wavell’s three pretty daughters were included. The long table stretched in front of a large fire-place, with the commander-in-chief sitting in the middle and Lady Wavell opposite. I was placed at her left. After dinner I talked with General Wavell and his very charming wife. . . .
[Saturday 29 November]11 I’m all set to cross the border into Afghanistan on Wednesday or Thursday of next week. The trip from Delhi up took its allotted 24 hours and the journey was very dusty. . . .
[Monday 1 December] . . . My today’s schedule is tiffin [light midday meal] with the R.A.F. [RAF, or Royal Air Force] and dinner with the governor, Sir George Cunningham, to whom I carry Colonel Benson’s letter of introduction. . . .12
[Tuesday 2 December] I have had my dinner with the Governor and am now set to go through the Khyber Pass. . . . [Y]esterday, I lunched with the local R.A.F. acting chief, his wife and some friends. We talked a lot of shop (my host and I) up to tiffin, and, after eating, we went out to see his farm. . . . At this point a distinguished Pathan landowner from Kohat [a city in North Waziristan] drove up (by previous arrangement) and two carloads of us went into the native city of Peshawar. The landowner was a “Rai Bahadur,” the holder of a title and has two sons in the Frontier army.13 Both of them are Oxford. . . . We went back to tea with our party because we were all late, and then back here to dress for the Governor’s dinner and the dinner was most satisfactory. There were Lady and Sir George Cunningham, a Mr. and Mrs. Joyce of the Civil Service, two A.D.C.’s [aides-de-camp] and myself. The Cunninghams are delightful people and my after dinner talk with him, most informative and helpful. . . .
[Wednesday 3 December] . . . In Delhi I sat in a conference with our General Wheeler and British G.H.Q. [general headquarters] and have received what are practically orders to drive up to Russia and into Iran and down to the Indian border again. It’s about 2000 miles. . . .
[Thursday 4 December] During these busy days here, I’ve taken a tonga only once. The remainder of the time I walk. Perhaps I average six to eight miles a day. This morning I was trying to take in some of the details to pass on to you. There is a profusion of flowering shrubs—poinsettias, bougainvilleas and a low bush with bright henna flowers which are trumpet-like and grow in clusters. The trees are magnificent—huge peepuls with smooth whitish bark and light green and glossy leaves; pines, tamarisks and sheesham. I believe I even saw a eucalyptus tree. Then, too, there’s a pepper tree which looks much like a willow. Out on the dusty plain there are real autumn tints, although no trees seem to be losing their leaves. The flowers, too, are interesting. There are roses everywhere in bloom, and considered almost a weed. They come in all colors. There are many deep red lilies in bloom in a park I pass. The big thing, however, is chrysanthemum. They are everywhere in purples, russets and yellows. The birds are very noisy, especially the grey-necked Indian crow. . . . The big hawk, called chiel, has a note of his own, and he is very bold, like the crow swooping right down on the sidewalks for tidbits. There are sparrows, of course, and minas (which you have seen in Honolulu and Hongkong). This morning I saw 6 brilliant green parrots (very noisy), with long pointed tails and (I suspect) grey-green heads.
On the roads one sees tongas, bicycles galore, not so many cars, but plenty of bullock and buffalo carts with heavy wooden wheels. Then there are the donkeys. . . . Sometimes you’ll see a six-foot Pathan sitting on one and holding his foot [sic] up so they won’t drag. For the most part, these donkeys go in groups of four or five, carrying wood, coal, sugar cane or anything else and in charge of an urchin who is no bigger than they. Men and boys alike, however, sit on the very end of the donkey—directly over its hind legs. I suppose this is to prevent breaking its back in case of a huge man. I have a donkey-boy friend who is very dirty and loves to stare at me out of his good eye as he passes the hotel gate.
One also sees sheep and goats being led singly through the bazaars on leashes like dogs. This morning a boy had a pet (and huge) ram which he was sicking onto his boy friends, much to their terror and delight. The timid ones ran behind a grey-bearded barber who shaved a customer squatting in the dust all unconscious of what transpired.
Last evening, after tea and writing, I walked through the crowded bazaar to see the remarkably fine fruit and vegetable stands, and to watch good Moslems drinking tea out of large and lovely brass samovars. There was what sounded like a riot down the street, but when I went over I found it was only a lot of school boys holding a silver athletic trophy aloft and celebrating at the top of their lungs. But you should see the carrots and cabbages, the grapes and pomegranates they have here. I should think they are unsurpassed anywhere. This (and Afghanistan) is real fruit and vegetable country. The other shops were interesting, too; but rather a hodge-podge of shoddy European stuff mixed in with the native brass, cloth, etc. Plenty of tailors seem to live in the bazaar, and I saw a shop where the big Singer Sewing machine had been sunk into the floor so that the pedal was out of sight, its operator appeared to be legless. Coming out (and passing the old blind beggar who asks Allah to bless you) I heard some tentative drum beating. Ahead, there was a bright light as for a celebration and presently I saw a band of bearded Pathans of the most remarkable aspect. On their heads were bright yellow hats meant to look like tam o’shanters, but managing to look more like chef’s caps. They had abbreviated khaki coats on, and their baggy trousers (believe it or not) were fashioned from Scottish plaid. There were four drummers and about six pipers with bagpipes under their arms. They stood in a circle facing inward, and blocking the sidewalk. When he saw me, the No. 1 drummer exercised his English. He said, ‘bon, thoo, tree!’ With that, the whole crowd burst into allegedly musical action. The old blind beggar came hobbling over, calling on Allah and hoping to find a generous crowd, and I escaped.
Enders left for the Khyber Pass on the morning of Saturday 6 December for the two-day drive to Kabul. He would have arrived there on Monday 8 September, the day that Pearl Harbor was attacked (Asia time). He was the sole representative of the U.S. government in Afghanistan for the next five months. It was an area that seethed in intrigue, although the country was officially neutral in the war. The British and the Americans were on one side, facing the Germans, Italians,