Kandy Calling September 1946



Kandy Calling September 1946
The Magazine of RAF Station Kandy


The last issue of Kandy Calling. A magazine with news, quizzes, stories, sports reports, personalities, photographs, cartoons, letters to the editor and adverts.



Temporal Coverage

Spatial Coverage




26 printed sheets


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Vol. II. No. 7 SEPTEMBER, 1946 Price 50 cts.

We have great pleasure in announcing the forthcoming marriage between LACW “Johnny” Marshall, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Marshall of Coventry, and Major Phillip W. Hay-Jahans of the 4/9 Gurkha Rifles. They hope to be married in Delhi when Johnny gets her local release in about three weeks’ time. Best of luck, Johnny.

The results of the competition are published on page 24. Need we point out that the Editors’ decision is final? Please!

Round the Bend
Thanks to F/T Miller’s work, we are able to present to you the only example in captivity of a man’s subconscious mind. It is also, by the way, a genuine “doodling” pad.
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Kandy Calling
Edited by:-
By permission of the Commanding Officer
Permission to reprint part or whole of any feature from this magazine must in the first instance be obtained from the Editor of KANDY CALLING
The Editor does not necessarily agree with the opinions of contributors expressed in this magazine

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Between You & Me
By the Editor
THIS is our swan-song. Kandy Calling under its present name, makes its exit after a short and somewhat eventful life. In a few weeks R.A.F. Kandy will be completely closed down. Most, if not all, of us will be sorry to leave the hill country, and certainly none of us are looking forward to the prickly heat of the coast. So far reports of our future “home” have shown that in a good number of respects it will be better than Kandy, and that in others it will not be so good; at any rate Sergeant Bob Bedford thinks we will do quite well for sports facilities. Another consolation is that we shall have good swimming facilities there and, with a little co-operation from the transport section, we will be in reach of the “Big City” Colombo.
This, then, is the last issue of Kandy Calling as such. It seems a far cry from the first duplicated issue to this present edition. The station first heard the name Kandy Calling on February 2nd, when Aircraftsman Harry Ludlam and Aircraftsman Rex Allett launched their magazine from the Roneo. Flying Officer Don Cowley and Aircraftsman Eric Hedges did a lot for the paper, putting it into print and changing its style. Flying Officer Cowley left us a few weeks back, leaving Flight Sergeant Chas. Neill, previously his assistant, to change the style again from that of a newspaper to a magazine. Now we have the new editorial board.
From the comments on the last issue most of the station seemed to like the new format, though one of our correspondents airs a general opinion when he says the magazine lacks variety. We have taken the criticism to heart. We have been able to include quite a lot of Section news, thanks to our section reporters – keep it up, and lets have some “gen” from the other sections for our next issue.
We wish to thank the Photographic Section too for their part in the production of the illustrated supplement. It may serve as a reminder to us, when Ceylon is a memory, of what Kandy was like. Shall we ever really forget it? If there is a demand we could get extra copies of the supplement printed separately.
See you all at Katukurunda. E.K.C.

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So This is Ceylon!

The same dust, unpleasant odours,
Jumbled Shops and hapless loafers;
Where is the beauty of Ceylon?

Gharries race with shrieking horns,
Driving rickshaws into gutters;
Half-starved dogs and ragged children
Slink away to mutthi hovels;
Where is the beauty of Ceylon?

Bullock carts rumble just the same,
Buffalos plod whilst drivers grumble;
Weary women with heavy burden
Follow their men in dreary custom;
Where is the beauty of Ceylon?

But out of the heat and fetid bustle,
Away from the crowd and side-walk tussle,
Lies a lake of silver in a perfect setting;
Here is the beauty of Ceylon.

Dedication of a Prince’s love,
Watched by the Temple of the Tooth,
This lovely pool with emerald Isle,
Its surface thrilled by each enraptured sigh;
Here is the beauty of Ceylon.

From the waters edge to the very sky,
Racing upwards mountains vie with jungle
Growth of many hues seeking to catch the fleeting clouds.
Here is the beauty of Ceylon.

Coconut palms in orderly rows
March upwards to flight through rubber tree groves,
And still they reach through scrub and bush
To raise their green fronds in majesty;
But away to the south they run down again
Down to the river in the vale,
Where elephants wallow and crocodiles laze,
Away past the huts with their roofs of thatch
To shelter the shrine of Buddha’s caste;
Here, too, is the beauty of Ceylon.

KANDY March 1945.

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And so We say Farewell . . .
By David Ross

It’s a hundred to one you’d never heard of the place before you arrived, and the chances of Kandy ever winning a U.K. headline after we’re gone are pretty remote. Our Town is just one of those places that was bounced around by the war, like a good-time girl, and is not very certain what tomorrow holds.

Let us consider, for a moment, the story of Kandy.

Ceylon was surrendered by the Dutch to the British in in 1796, when Holland had been overrun by the French Revolutionaries and was unable to take care of her Imperial conquests. At the subsequent peace treaty in 1802 it was retains as a British possession. But for thirteen years after that the hill peoples held their independence and eventually, after a resistance lasting in all for 300 years against first Portugese [sic], then Dutch and finally British invaders, signed a treaty in which the British Government guaranteed to “devote Kandyan revenue to the improvement and administration of the Kandyan Kingdom alone, and to uphold the dignity and power of the Kandyans as a nation.”

But, in fact, just the opposite has happened. As the Colonial Office report on Ceylon frankly admits: “The inevitable backwardness of a hill country population, as compared with its maritime neighbours, was accentuated by the spread of educational, health, agricultural and economic facilities through the relatively thickly-populated and accessible low-country much earlier, and on a far larger scale, than was possible in the interior. By various means which, to say the least, were prejudicial to the Kandyan landowners, land was acquired to form large estates, first for the planting of coffee and later tea and rubber.”

This, then, was where we came in. We found a poor but proud people, nurturing the memory of their past, of the days when they had been rich, had their own king and had hurled defiance at the European merchants who had come looking for spices.

It must have been a mysterious day for the Kandyans when the staff officers of the three headquarters – S.A.C.S.E.A., A.L.F.S.E.A. and A.C.S.E.A. – with their ratings and wrens, soldiers and A.T.S., airmen and W.A.A.F.’s and G.I.’s and W.A.C.S. – the latter from a country that had not even been discovered when Ceylon was great – arrived to direct a war against another nation 10,000 miles away from their coconut groves. But it meant prosperity and it meant fame. The very simplicity of the name of the town, standing out from amid the jumble of poly-syllabic monstrosities

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that blotch across the map of S.E. Asia, had a friendly note, and it was soon a by-word in Whitehall and Arakan, in Fleet St. and Luzon.

Many, many thousands of men and women must have passed through its winding streets in the last two years, and the Perahera will be told of in many a British pub. and American drug-store for years to come.

They will tell, too, of the island on the lake where the kings kept their harems; of a library that had once been a bathing pavilion for queens who were liable to be drowned (if they displeased) in the great artificial lake that is now the the [sic] town’s reservoir; of the temple where the High Priest has palm-leaf bibles claimed to be 600 years old and a tooth sworn to be a relic of “Buddha the All-Knowing”; of the last monarch whose descendants are living in banishment in Southern India; of the visitors’ book containing the signatures of Bernard Shaw, Ramsay MacDonald, Lloyd George, President Wilson of America, the Duke of Gloucester and the Duke of Windsor and of a naval commander named Mountbatten who visited the town in 1934; and they will remember, too, the easy-going, friendly people of Ceylon who welcomed them when practically every other country in the Far East was occupied by, or friendly to the Japanese.

Kandy has had a long and proud history and is today facing the return from its brief war-time glamour to obscurity.

It will be many years before the hill peoples of Ceylon lose from memory the strange white men and women who wandered along back streets, ate in down-town dives, talked with the humblest and delved into the doings of the “other nation” which lives outside Cargills and Millers and the Queen’s Hotel, and works for a living.

So long, Kandy. It’s been nice knowing you.

“It was issue!”

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From the School

“WHAT am I going to do when I get out?” That is a question which many of us are asking ourselves these days. Perhaps some of us are fortunate enough to have steady jobs to return to, but in many cases demobilization means a fresh start in an entirely new line. Naturally, we all want to make the best possible use of our lives, and to find a job which is both remunerative and interesting. Yet how many jobs of this kind are there? We read of countless people who are finding it difficult to settle down in civilian life, and who are having to content themselves with third-rate jobs. Why? Often it is because they are not qualified; because they have no value in the labour market. They are like thousands of other people who “haven’t got anything to sell.”

How, then, can we place a value upon ourselves? The first step is to decide upon a career with a future; a career in which there is both scope and prospects of employment. Having done this, we must find out what qualifications are necessary and decide upon the best means of obtaining these qualifications. If we have to wait for demobilization perhaps we can begin studying now and then continue, after we leave the Service, under one of the Government schemes of training.

This is where the Education Section comes into the picture. Here you will find the answer to many of your resettlement problems, and also what qualifications are necessary for the career you have in mind. You can attend classes and work for the Forces Preliminary Examination, which has the same standing as Matriculation; you can improve your mathematics if you are technically-minded; you can brush up your English if you are thinking of taking up office work, also you can leave the Service with one of our typewriting certificates. If there are no classes in your particular subject, individual tuition can be arranged, as far as possible, and there is a wide range of text-books for your use.

When we get to Katukurunda all these facilities will be available for you, plus, we hope, extra classes in Biology, Greek, Geometrical Drawing, and a much improved Art School. Our woodwork classes will also be in full swing again.

So how about it? It is obvious that the best jobs will go to those who are best qualified, and, with the raising of the general standard of education by the new Act, competition for such jobs will be great. Why not start working now while you have the chance? Then when the great day comes and you are finally released from the R.A.F., you will know where you stand in civilian life.


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[underlined] Ceylon-Ease [/underlined]

is handy
Nuwara Eliya
won’t feliya

for jumbos
is Galle
too smalle?

I soya

An anomolee
in Trincomalee
says elephants
aren’t ornamhants

At Mount Lavinia
just after dinia
I met a dhobi
who knew George Rhobi

I’ve never bin
to Peradin’
said a chum
from Negom.

he’s making a splash
with all this trash

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EVERY facility is offered to the sporting enthusiast ranging from all major games to the luxury of yachting on the placid waters of the nearby river.
swimming conditions, needless to say, are ideal. A fresh water lagoon, surrounded by the all too familiar palm and coconut trees, runs down into the sea; the gentle ripples and faint breeze make it all too inviting.
Katukurunda, situated among extremely pleasant surroundings, is about three miles from the lagoon. It is well dispersed – one might even say unfortunately. On approaching the “Colony” (so named by the Navy) one passes the airstrip and hangars, and what used to be the Italian prisoner of war camp.
The “Colony” itself harbours the majority of offices (where, no doubt, a lot of you will be working), also the various messes, sleeping quarters, sports fields and the cinemas; the latter is incidentally in every way comparable to our so popular “Adastra,” here at Kandy.
Both the Soccer and Hockey fields are first class, well laid out, turfed, and full sized. One should see exciting matches in the near future.
The Hockey pitch is specially worth mentioning on its own. Situated near the officers’ quarters, it has every resembalnce [sic] to a private garden. Shrubs, flowering plants surround the entire ground, while tall shady trees complete the picture.
There are two tennis courts within the “Colony” besides three which will be available for our use at Tebuwana.
Tebuwana, by the way, is a planters’ club situated on the bank of the river, some six miles from the camp, boastisg [sic] a most excellent club house, cricket pitch, tennis courts and six hole golf course (longest drive about 260 yards). I can see some fine cricket matches and tennis tournaments between the various sections or messes being played there at week ends. Picnic parties will also have a most enjoyable time at [sic] the scenery by the river is really “wizard.” Rugby players, too, can be accommodated at the club, and should it ever be necessary, soccer matches can also be played there.
The proposed Yachting Club, I know, will attract many of you. One can almost picture the knife-like edge of a sixteen footer cutting through the gleaming waters, manned by a sun-tanned airman. From the advance party, who will have the opportunity of mixing socially with the Navy, we shall expect to hear such nautical terms as “Avast you landlubbers, “hoist the main-sails” or “Bosun’s party assemble on the poop deck.”
For those of you who may prefer something a little less spectacular, there will be canoeing. Several of these

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Do You Know? – No. 6
1. What is a sponge?
(a) Mineral.
(b) Animal.
(c) Plant.
2. Who is the present wife of the Film Star Brian Aherne?
3. Where is the only aluminium statue in London to be found?
4. Who wrote the following books?
(a) How Green was my Valley.
(b) None but the lonely Heart.
5. What are the present capitals of the following Countries?
(a) Tasmania.
(b) Albania.
(c) Peru.
(d) Argentine
6. Who wrote the song-hit. The White Cliffs of Dover?
7. Who was the man in charge of the Bikini Atom Bomb Test?
8. Which is the biggest Tin Mining County in England?
9. At what age are citizens of the following countries permitted to vote?
(a) Great-Britain.
(b) U.S.A.
(c) U.S.S.R.
10. A great highway has been built a thousand miles in length in a country that is largely desert. Which Country?
11. For how many years was Franklin Delano Roosevelt President of the U.S.A.?
12. How many Provinces are there in Ceylon? Can you name then?
(Answers on page 24)

(Contd. From prev. page)
little craft are being retained by the station. As to the number of boats that will be available for the Yachting Club, I do not know, and I doubt if anyone could tell you at present.
Fishing should present no difficulty; one has only to go down either to the lagoon or river where some really big fish are to be caught, providing, of course, you know how!
There is little else I can tell you about Katukurunda at the moment. Many of you will be going down yourselves in the near future, so of course will have the opportunity of drawing your own conclusions.
Perhaps I have drawn you too bright a picture! I don’t know – it remains to be seen.

We are informed from a very reliable source that Greta Garbo has been sent to Britain by the U.S. Government. She always wanted to be alone.

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Station Personalities

FLIGHT Lieutenant “Slim” Cowell can boast nine years in the R.A.F. and his youth. Born in 1922, his service career, he tells us, started at Halton in 1937 as an Aircraft Apprentice u/t Fitter Armourer. In April 1942, with the exalted rank of Corporal, he volunteered for Aircrew training; this took place under the U.S. Navy and in Canada, and he was commissioned in September, 1943. Did his “ops” with 194 Squadron, S.E.A.A.F. on Transport Support. March 1946 he arrived at Kandy for No. 3 O.A.T.S. course and after graduating remained as Station Adjutant.
He is married with one daughter and lives at Pinner, Middlesex. His favourite sport, he says, is rugby football, but may be driven into any others by a fleeting feeling of physical deterioration. We ourselves have seen him stride like a Colossus over the netball pitch. Other hobbies include reading, amateur, dramatics (he was in The Ghost Train and George and Margaret), and returning to England. He also hopes to go back to flying someday.

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Boxing Personalities.
I don’t know if any of you have any interest in boxing, or boxers, but I hope, during the following months, to impart some facts about boxers which will be of interest to all enthusiastic sportsmen on the camp. I intend to write every month a short article about two of the more famous boxers that have fought both in England and America, and I hope you will enjoy reading them. So here goes.
Bombardier Billy Wells
Billy Wells was a tall, clever, and scientific boxer, who really made the grade in British Championship Boxing. He had several weaknesses and drawbacks however, which undoubtedly deterred him as far as “World” boxing went. With a long chin and neck, and a body that was not heavily muscled, he was open to punishment which he was not built to absorb. Perhaps his greatest handicap was his temperament: He was the type of man who could worry over the least thing, and he often did this just before he entered the ring, with the consequence that he did not show the form and style of which he was capable.
He had a marvellous punch in both hands, and this, coupled with his cleverness, led to his often winning his fights by a knock-out.
His style and bearing intrigued the public, and he could always be counted upon to fill the house whether he was expected to win or lose, and, in my opinion, did a lot to popularise boxing.
Gene Tunney
Gene Tunney was one of the brainy type of boxers, and had a punch, in both hands, that was more powerful than was realized; so much so that Dempsey was heard to say, after his fight with Tunney, that he had never been hit so hard, and that it wasn’t a matter of feeling that he was going “out”, but he thought that he was just meeting death. Many of Tunney’s opponents retired from the ring, after a fight with him, and with serious injuries such as broken ribs or noses.
Cool and determined, Tunney used all of his brain at boxing and each more was carefully worked out. When training, he would obtain the services of a sparring partner who had previously been employed by his prospective opponent, so that he could adjust his style to better that of the other man. He would buy action films of the person he was to meet, and run them through slowly, noting the style, footwork attack and, most of all, the weaknesses of his opponent.
Unlike most boxers, he did not stick strictly to the instructions of his trainer, but would devise his own methods of improving his weak spots – hands for instance – and improved by his own initiative.
By pure grit and determination, Tunney got to the top of the ladder of boxing, and when he retired, he had amassed a large fortune.

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Has Impressionism come to stay?
READING a London magazine recently, I discovered rather to my surprise, that there have been produced on the London stage during the last few months several Expressionist plays, all of which seem to have met with a certain amount of success. First of all let me try to explain what an Expressionist play is, and quote one or two examples. Probably a suitable parallel is what the artist terms “Impressionism.”
Among the best of these plays is The Skin of our Teeth, a comedy by Thornton Wilder, whom you will probably know as the author of The Bridge of San Luis Rey. Others recently produced are The Wind is Ninety, an American play, and Exercise Bowler by William Templeton and Alec Clunes.
What are these plays? They dispense with as much stage scenery and as many props as possible. In the place of these conventionally accepted accoutrements of a stage play, the author substitutes the audience’s imagination. In some ways it is a reversion to the Elizabethan Theatre, when each scene was explained to the audience before it started; for in The Skin of our Teeth, the Stage Manager spends most of his time leaning on the proscenium, delivering a running commentary on the play. What is more, the audiences seem to have enjoyed this. Perhaps the willingness of the British theatregoer to use his imagination is a sign that he is not so unintelligent as some would have us believe.
Obviously, the Expressionist play places a great deal of responsibility on the author for his composition and dialogue, as it does upon the performers for their acting. There is no question of a well designed set, or extravagant production distracting the audience’s attention from weakness in the play itself. Perhaps, then, this comparatively new form of drama can, by its demands upon the playwright, serve to heighten the standards of British and American plays.
As I suggested earlier, EXpressionism [sic] in drama is very similar to IMpressionism [sic] in art, and may have developed from this, for the latter dates back to the 18th Century.
Whilst our playwright asks the audience to use its imagination, the Impressionist painter endeavours, by use of colours distributed about his canvas, to convey a picture to his spectator. He ignores form, and if you look closely at an Impressionist painting, you will see only daubs of paint; yet the final result often carries more of the “feeling” of the scene than any accurate reproduction could hope to do.
One of the earliest of the Impressionists was an Englishman, John Constable, renowned for the beauty of his landscapes, many of which were created by this method. Probably the best known of them all, was Vincent van Gogh the Dutchman, in whose steps many have followed, none with such success, however. Such paintings as van Gogh’s Cornfield with Distant Hills convey admirably the artist’s idea of the scene; yet, examined closely, this particular work will show not one single ear of corn, merely a riot of colour. There have been numerous other exponents of this form of art – Claude Monet and Cezanne, both Frenchmen, being among the more famous.
In the 20th Century however a new development of Impressionism has grown up – known as Post-Impressionism. This is probably more the counterpart of Expressionism on the stage than Impressionism itself, for the object of Post-Impressionism is to convey to the onlooker through the medium of paint not a picture of something concrete, but an idea! It is rather difficult to conceive how this can be done, and the average man is suspicious of anything so new and abstract – perhaps rightly so. To be able to convey an idea, completely divorced from things of sight, is obviously an art not acquired with ease. Likewise it is something extremely difficult to interpret and a veritable paradise for fraud and trickery. Who is there to say that one particular work is truly a demonstration of the mind and the thoughts of the artist, and not something he has produced merely in the hope of making money from it?
Much of the work of Pablo Picasso, the most publicised artist of the present day, falls under the classification of Post-Impressionism. It has often been said in criticism of Picasso that “a child could do it.” Perhaps

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this is true – or perhaps Picasso and his contemporaries reached a development of thought in the world of art far ahead of the general public. Who knows?
There is no doubt that Post-Impressionism has attracted quite a large following in art circles, probably more in Britain than elsewhere. Among our own contemporaries are Paul Nash, Graham Sutherland and Henry Moore; the last two having produced a great deal during the war years, much of it concerning present day conditions and the war itself.
How should one look at a painting of this type? What can one look for? Naturally it is futile to try to recognise objects or people, for the true painting will not contain them, merely ideas. As I say, interpretation of this work is not a thing for the layman, yet I am sure that most people looking at a picture like Paul Nash’s We are Making a New World can see his illustration of the title if only the choice and positioning of the colours on the canvas. Dark greens and greys mixing with reds at the bottom, changing to brighter colours seeming like rays of light from the top of the picture.
Music too has its Impressionism, and it follows very closely the pattern of its counterparts in the other two arts I have mentioned. The Impressionist musician tries to put into his composition an idea which has come to him and to tell his listeners what the idea is, through the medium of sounds. Probably the best known of all the Impressionist compositions is L’apres Midi d’un Faune by the French composer Debussy.
There is no doubt that most people with an ordinary knowledge of music, art or drama, tend to avoid anything new or revolutionary. Very often an innovation is dismissed as rubbish without anything being known about it at all, in fact, because nothing is known about it. Impressionism has suffered this way very often.
I hope that I have in these columns succeeded at least in giving you some idea of what it is all about and what its exponents are getting at. Perhaps some of you will be interested enough to try to find out more, but at least you can all decide for yourselves whether it has any interest for you, or whether it has any value at all. For my part I feel that it is a new form of art, as yet in its infancy, and still containing much that needs to be eliminated, but I do think it has come to stay. It will never overthrow the more established forms of art yet just as the short story found its place in the world of literature I feel that Impressionism will in time become recognised, at least in some of its forms.

How drear the journey, dark the way,
How narrow is the path that leads us right.
How uninviting are the cobbled stones,
That take us ever nearer to the light.
How mournful is the music that we hear;
How desolate the landscape come to view;
How dull the track we, ever onwards, tread,
The track we know will, lastly, bring us through.
But how bright the voyage, keen the run;
How happy is the path that goes awry;
How inviting is the laughter that we hear
Though, little do we know, its just a lie
That leads us on into a troubled life
Where strife and sorrow play their deadly part
So, though it seems unwelcome, take the turn
That leads to happiness and peace of heart.

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Vol. II. No. 7 SEPTEMBER, 1946

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A Christian Viewpoint
THE Education Act of 1944 has been accepted as a cautious yet gradual step from the “old order” and it is still to be seen when ideals or circumstances will be paramount. At a time when destructive analysis carries more weight than practical idealism; when it is so widely held that the Christian Faith should be treated as a school subject under the general title of Comparative Superstitions, the new proposals are encouraged to professing Christians in that they provide for a place for worship, and religious instruction in the daily curriculum.
But why, the agnostic will enquire, should religion and education continue to be thus mixed up? The answer would take much space, but it is sufficient to say that in divorcing religion from education man denies his true nature. Man’s nature is a trinity of body, mind and spirit, parallel in its diversity on the one hand and its essential unity on the other with the Christian doctrine of Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Education can be variously defined, but perhaps the best short definition can be given in the single word “development” Development of what? Of our whole being presumably – of our bodies, of the mind. Physical education we readily understand, for we are not free from it in the Royal Air Force; and development of the mind has an assured place in the civilized world. Is that all? Is that where education stops? Is it enough that a man should be healthy in body and well trained in his thinking? Some would say so but we cannot begin to agree.
To achieve the fulness [sic] of life is obviously impossible if one aspect of our nature is neglected or lopped off. Was it not John Ruskin who wrote, “You do not learn that you may live – You live that you may learn”? Therefore no plan for education which ignores the unity of the human trinity can succeed, if success means a contribution to the weal of the suffering world through the fullest possible development of our being.
This conclusion is quite ancient, but the practical application of it to our own educational system has waxed and waned. In the Middle Ages the Christian Church was the custodian of learning, and the system was built on pure motives of Christian charity. Rich and poor alike were included in this scheme, and it was only with the decline of their original purposes that they became institutions of tyranny and class distinction. Then came Dr. Arnold whose avowed intent was to cultivate “gentleman” in his school. This meant something different to the prevailing idea of a gentleman, as being a man of privileged social status. For him the word was insepraable [sic] from its accompanying adjective, Christian.
It may be noticed that the social and ethical significance of the word “gentleman” has

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become quite naturally confused, since it has, until lately, been an upper class privilege to benefit fully from the practical Christian education of Dr. Arnold and his successors.
Recognition of religion in education has given encouragement to all who call themselves Christian, but mere recognition is only a starting point and it is up to us, seeing the gate opened, to make the best use of this opportunity.
There are many hurdles on this road, none of which will be smoothed out by parliamentary acts, and one of the biggest is the spectre of broken homes. The foundations of education are laid, we would all agree, in the home. Prayers at a mother’s knee or the absence of God in a household, harmony or divorce between parents, these have the profoundest influence of all upon a child. It is upon the home that Christian Education must be built, for only upon that foundation can the Christian life be developed at school and afterwards – Let us see that the knowledge offered to our children is not turned to roguery and lust but rather to wisdom and love.

Church Notices
Sundays 08.15 Holy Communion (Station Church)
Sundays 17.30 Evensong (St. Paul’s Church, Kandy)
Saints’ Days 06.45 Holy Communion
Fridays 19.30 Fellowship Meeting (Hut 325)
The Chaplain asks all confirmed members of the Church to make themselves known without delay. His Office is in Block 229 (Telephone ext. 43).

Sundays 10.00 Morning Service (Station Church)
17.30 Evening Service (Scots Kirk, Kandy)
18.00 Evening Service (Methodist Church Kandy)
Mondays 20.00 Fellowship Meeting (Hut 325)
Tuesdays 20.00 Bible Study Meeting (Hut 325)
Transport calls at No. 1 Officers, Sergeants and W.A.A.F. Messes at 08.00 hrs., and leaves Main Guard Room in the evening at 17.00 hrs.

(Situated near Equipment Section).
Sundays 08.30 Holy Mass
Thursdays 18.30 S.O.S. Group Meeting

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The Brontë Sisters
By Adrian R. Dale
MUCH has been said about the Brontë sisters in the past, and, as most of us know, two films were produced from books written by two of the sisters. But how many know their life history?

The story of the Brontë sisters begins with their father Patrick Brunty, who came from County Down in Ireland. He later changed his name to Brontë and became a scholar of St. John’s College, Cambridge, in 1802. After leaving this College he held minor clerical posts and eventually became perpetual curate of Haworth, a wild and moorland district of Yorkshire, where he remained till his death.

He married in 1812, and his wife died in 1822 leaving him with six children, Maria, Elizabeth, Charlotte, Patrick, Emily and Anne, of whom the eldest was eight and the youngest almost two years of age. The children led an inconsistent life and amused themselves by writing. They received a little instruction from their father and attended a boarding school. Of this institution it is enough to say that it killed Maria and Elizabeth, and later served as a model Lowood for Charlotte’s Jane Eyre. After leaving this school, the two elder sisters Charlotte and Emily resided in Belgium in 1842 where they were pupils at the Pensionnat Heger in Brussels, but had to return in 1843 owing to the death of an aunt who had been keeping their Yorkshire House.

In 1846 Charlotte (1815 – 55), Emily (1818 – 48), and Anne (1820 – 49) united in producing Poems by Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell. The volume was not successful but Charlotte embodied some of her experiences in a novel, The Professor, which was rejected. Nevertheless it gave her practice, for she was a born writer but still had to learn the technique.

It was in 1847 when Charlotte wrote Jane Eyre, still using the name Currer Bell. The other sisters were writing too; for in 1847 appeared Wuthering Heights by Ellis Bell (incidentally Emily Brontë). The book is unique. There was nothing like it before, there has been nothing like it since. The wickedness of it appals us because it is pure wickedness, free from any taint of the flesh. About the events of Jane Eyre one feels as though the events could have happened to anyone anywhere; but about the events of Wuthering Heights one feels that they could not have happened out of hell. People ask whether her book had anything to do with her brother Patrick; that is a hard question to answer because she wrote down her feelings of the world and considering the life she led on the Yorkshire Moors it is quite possible she did refer to her brother.

Anne’s qualities have been underrated because she is less vehement than her sister; but

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Agnes Grey is a moving personal record and shows a sign of undeveloped strength and fine observation.

In 1848 Patrick Brontë drugged himself to extinction and before the close of the same year Emily, too, was gone. Anne herself died in the next year and Charlotte the eldest of the Brontë sisters remained.

In 1849 she wrote Shirley with great expectations, but unlike Jane Eyre it was difficult to read and was a failure. After visits to London where she received much appreciation and encouragement, she wrote Villette which was a remembrance of Brussels. That was her last book.

In 1854 she married her father’s curate, and in 1855 she died before she was thirty-nine leaving behind two chapters of a novel entitled Emma.

And so ended the lives of the Brontë sisters, unique in their own way, and to us a valuable memory.

It can hardly be denied that at long last Britain is making a stand in the film industry of today. Like most other things it has taken time, but its eventual aim is being reached and better films are being produced.
The majority of films, however, are inclined to be graded good or bad purely on personal opinion and not so much on material value. This leads many people to believe that because they did not like a certain film it was poor. Therefore, while an American film which has been condemned by public opinion is lost amongst the great number of other films produced by them, the British film has to suffer a slower death due to the fact that very few films are produced in this country as compared with America. This makes the British failures more outstanding and also makes it harder to prove to the general public that Britain can produce good films.
Good acting is half way to making a film a success and it is here that the British stars can take a bow. They live their parts with stark reality. They go a long way to help make the films what they are; frank, portraying both the rich and poor with true feelings, and real as life itself from beginning to end.
This year has seen the rising of a few new stars with genuine talent who have helped to break the monotony of the big five – James Mason, Margaret Lockwood, Patricia Roc, Stewart Granger, and Phyllis Calvert – who have been taking the leading roles of the greater portion of British films. That they have every good reason, however, to take these parts on their acting merits is to be well appreciated, but a fresh face is always welcomed.
Quality is far greater the quantity with British films and that is the way it should be. Where American produces as many films as she can to keep her large number of stars in circulation, Britain concentrates everything on turning out one film that stands every chance of making a hit; and it only needs one who appreciates good acting and who has seen a few of the latest British films such as: Waterloo Road, Brief Encounter, Henry V, and Seventh Veil to agree that the producers’ aim is not far off its mark. Someone might raise a debatable point with regard to Henry V, but then one knew what to expect.
In its stars, Britain obviously has the material for making good films and, if given a chance to prove itself capable of turning out some of the finest films, it will not be so very long before its ambition is realized.

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THERE can be few R.A.F. Stations that have not a music society; frequently one finds that the more isolated the station the more active the Society. R.A.F. Kandy cannot be called an isolated station, but its Music Society is certainly active.
I first knew the Society when it was run by those two enthusiastic musicians, Ben Belifonte and Bill Davies.
However well a concert of recorded music is presented, there is something lacking when compared with an actual performance. One misses the artists’ personalities, the applause. The latter gives the audience an opportunity to express their appreciation of the music and its interpretation, for a few moments they leave their role of passive listeners of, and become active participators in, music. Only by taking an active part in the performance of music, even if it is only applauding, can One [sic] attain a full appreciation of music.
It is this difference between a recorded concert (passive listening par excellence) and a “live” concert that makes me suggest that Ben Belifonte and Bill Davies will best be remembered on this station for their Sunday night concerts. Then with piano and violin they would present their programme, holding enthralled a large audience.
The large audiences at the Society’s concerts were due in large measure to the excellent publicity the concerts received. A number of people were responsible for this, but special mention must be made of L.A.C. Tournor, whose latest work has been to decorate the large plain-looking resonator board, making it “a thing of beauty and a joy for ever”. He has also designed the notices of the weekly programme. These beautifully designed and executed notices as much sought after for their artistic worth, and a number of them are now among collections of programmes containing such famous names as the Halle Orchestra, John Barbirolli, The BBC Symphony Orchestra and Sir Henry Wood.
Flight Lieutenant Miller, who took over the leadership of the Society in May, was an excellent musician and an advocate of appreciating music by active participation, especially by singing. He contended that nobody was tone deaf. He never achieved his ambition of forming a Station Choral Society, though he did form a choir from each course at the E.V.T. School. It was his boast that the choir’s theme song “Come Follow” was known throughout all India Command and A.C.S.E.A. One of his proudest moments came when the G.S.T. and Equipment Courses complained that they were unable to work because the choir was singing Parry’s “Jerusalem” too well and too loud.
His lectures on musical appreciation helped many to obtain a fuller conception of the nature and quality of music. Perhaps his greatest achievement at these lectures was when after a ten minute lecture on conducting he persuaded his class to conduct a recording of Beethoven’s Eighth Symphony. The best performance was by a W.A.A.F. who did not get lost until the tenth bar, the rest were lost between the third and fifth bars.
Unfortunately two enthusiastic and hard working members of the Society will be leaving us soon. Cpl. Wilson, who has done much publicity work for the Society and has also been a very efficient record changer is posted to Singapore. Cpl. Greig, who with Cpls. Whitfield and Rossone has worked extremely hard on the technical equipment, is promulgated for release.
Without this small band of enthusiasts the Society could never have played the part in Station life that it has done. Their aim was perfection, and unstintingly they have given their time to achieve that aim.
Shortly, those who remain of these enthusiasts together with the records and other equipment will be moving to Katukurunda. A room has already been allocated for the use of the Music Society there, and it is planned that the Society will play as large a part, if not larger, in the Station life at Katukurunda as it has done at Kandy.

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Heard Melodies Are Sweet. . .
THE True Poet is a man who says the right thing at the right time in the right way. And the True Poet never more squarely hit the proverbial nail on the head with the equally proverbial hammer than when he said “Heard Melodies are Sweet – but those unheard are sweeter!” (I have it on reliable information that the True Poet in this case was John Keats).
These thoughts came to me lying on my charp one afternoon while on [sic] “oppo” of mine, who says he wouldn’t know a True Poet when he saw one and “couldn’t care less”, was in the shower. How right he was – heard melodies are sweet but those unheard are sweeter, far far sweeter.
Why must they sing in the showers? I thought perhaps they did just to get their own back on me. But what about those on the other side of the camp who can’t hear me even when I’m on the top of my form and with the wind in my favour. They also sing and arouse such thoughts as these in the once friendly bosoms of my comrades.
George, who thinks a lot – so much so, he says, that it might force him into working when he gets his release – suggested it might be a neuro-muscular and/or neuro-psychic reaction. You know, the way birds sing when they hear “Waky waky, rise and shine” first thing every morning. Unless, of course, the patient under consideration suffers from neurasthenia, he added as an afterthought. But then I’ve never known a neurasthenic who sang in his shower; come to think of it I’ve never known a neurasthenic.
George wasn’t any help, neither were the snores if [sic] the rest of billet: they didn’t even impress on the shower-singer that his oppos wanted to sleep.

SOME people say it’s crazy. They are the ones who have never tried it themselves. Others just look scornful and say nothing. They are the ones who know they couldn’t even if they did try. Others sound mildly interested, and look as if they only want somebody to talk them into it. They are the best ones to work on. A few say that they think it’s a very good idea indeed. They have no intention of ever trying it.
Of course, really it’s only a question of will-power. Admittedly it’s easier if you have some incentive, but it’s really will-power that does it – nothing more or less. There’s no doubt that the first few times are the worst but it’s all right once you get into the habit.
“Is it worth it?” they say. Again, they are the people who have never tried it. Every new convert agrees that there is nothing better. Think of the sense of virtue it gives you, and the satisfaction of having done it for the first time. You soon get used to the incredulous stares people give you, and you’ll find yourself meeting them with a pitying smile. Mind you, people will be sarcastic and rude about it, but that is sheer jealousy. The pitying smile deals with these people very satisfactorily, too.
No, there’s no doubt about it, you’ll never regret it once you start. What’s that? You don’t know what I’m talking about? Why, going for long walks before breakfast, of course!

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AT 0759 hrs., streamline cars flash by, coachwork gleaming, flags flying, bound for that great metropolis, A.H.Q. Now we come to that little building set on a slight rise, and as we approach there comes to our ears the high-pitched whine of highly-trained brains working at maximum boost; let us look inside this compact unit.
Five huddled figures sprawl luxuriously in armchairs, pounding on typewriters and adding machines. Tea is brought to the sweating figures twice a day in buckets and food is piled high on the “in” tray. A faint smoke hangs over the office as ribbons are hacked and burnt by the flying keys of quaking machines.
Hordes of writhing humanity fight at the windows, brandishing last years’ statements and DEMAND attention. Not even a stony glance is thrown in their direction.
As we hurry through the swing doors into the next vast office we are met by the clanking of coin and the crackling of paper as the safes are emptied and notes cascade onto the floor in batches of ten.
Time is short and we push open the gilded doors that lead into the holiest of holies and there we find the great man himself, the master mind, sitting behind rows of glittering telephones, juggling with call after call, scribbling madly, signing documents in strict and terrible rotation, answering queries like nobody’s business. He looks up No! – it was the sight of N.A.A.F.I. tea that caught his eye. Look out! he is off again, “mind that book, watch that clock, where’s that file -.”
And so with incredible agility we enter the last and most serene of all this humming building. Equipment Accounts. Filing cabinets and forms in quadruplicate chock floor to ceiling; just think of the ships that bring all that paper, bottles of ink, and rulers. Reds and Blues flick deftly from tray to tray as the automation checks, cross checks, registers and casts – not forgetting number, stamp and blot each scrappy little piece of paper.
The minute hand of the clock nears the half-twelve; there is a deathly hush as eyes scan the distant Metropolis for signs of the first evacuee.
……and chum, if anyone ever asks you what goes on in Pay Accounts “Nothing mate, Nothing.”

AIR staff, like other sections, has in the past few months had several changes in personnel due to repats, release, and postings, but the next few weeks looks like establishing new records.
Sgt. Bidgood (Nav) is anxiously wandering around trying to get the “gen” on the Arundel Castle, so we presume he considers it time for his repat, and Corporal Iris Callingham and L.A.C.W. McRory are both on the W.A.A.F. Draft to go to Singapore. Iris has made many contributions to Kandy Calling and her drawings, posters, etc. will be familiar to most of you.
The S.W.A.A.F.O., Sqdn/O. Arkell, who has for a little time combined her own job with that of the Intelligence Officer, is also leaving us, for ENGLAND.
Last, but by no means least, we have to report the fact that the two officers with the longest amount of service in the section are also about to leave this island for Blighty. We must say to both S/Ldr. Clarke and F/Lt. Mundy, thanks for the happy and co-operative spirit displayed to all ranks and civilians in Air Staff, and to their credit must be put a large share of the praise for the happy spirit which prevails in Air Staff.
We wish all our members the very Best of Luck in whatever new sphere they intend to operate. Bon Voyage to you all.
On the other side of the Personnel ledger we wish to welcome our New SASO, G/Capt. Hutton, C.B.E., who arrived by plane from ENGLAND on September 7th.
The hardy netball fixture, W.A.A.F. v. T.W.A.’S. was on the list of sporting events in the section again, and we think the “bods” who have the hardest time are the R.A.F. in the section, as we have players of both teams working here and it’s very hard

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lines, on the fellow caught by either team cheering for the opposition. So far we have survived, and if this fixture is repeated in the future, we shall consider it good training on our part for the Diplomatic Service. One little tip I must give: one pair of players has practised many hours with a large balloon, and it has improved their play, but if necessary we could supply a pin, (if we are given a good offer).

THE W.A.A.F. site! What visions do those three little words conjure up?
To the W.A.A.F. Officers; “The Waafery” – five huts accommodating 63 airwomen; ages ranging from 20 to 40 (well may be 38), from 5’2” to 5’6 1/2” in height, weight from 8 sts., to 10 sts., all to be cared for. Entailing the making of rules, listening to their little troubles, giving advice, with occasionally a reprimand, and weekly hut inspection: showing interest in their various sports including those payed against the stronger (?) sex. A vision of a grand bunch of girls.
To the airwoman? Well not exactly home form home but ‘the next best thing’ where one can rest one’s weary bones between duties and pleasures (after one has broken in the mattress to the required shape). Quarters free from the roving eye of man (sometimes), where one can let one’s hair down, literally and metaphorically, or put it up, in curlers, cream one’s face, and give vent to one’s feelings in no uncertain terms.
A friend to “natter” to – to discuss the latest boy friend the previous evening, or, “My dear, what do you think I heard today” “You’ll never guess whom I saw sitting on the bridge last night,” etc., etc.
At night a welcoming place to return to, (unless one has the misfortune to be late). In the prosaic light of morning plus a hangover and an empty feeling inside (two breadless days a week), merely billets that have to be vacated by 0750 or 0755. On the whole, not such a bad place.
To the airman? A site to reconnoitre. I think that it is the correct word, the definition being “to approach and try to learn the position and condition or strategic features of the district – or the enemy.” A vision of himself plodding anything but noiselessly around huts, with fixed bayonet, whistling to keep his spirits up, asking himself why he should be the unlucky one to be picked for Guard Duty, (although it has been known for one keen type to volunteer three times in one week. He is back in U.K. now).
As for the Admin. Staff, visions of the hustle and bustle on inspections morning, dhobi, shoe repairs, telephone calls, late passes, notices, dogs, and questions, but it could be a lot worse.

AS is usual, we have gone through the routine for the month. Forms 449 have been submitted, amendment lists up-to-date, and assessments and ration strengths completed with the remarkable efficiency of S.H.Q. Orderly Room staff. But now for the sidelines – we do not publish everything in “Information and Current News” you know. Quite a bit goes on when a slack session occurs, when the mail van takes a trip down Kaduganawa Pass, when the inmates of the Orderly Room go in for a bit of frivolity.
Johnny the W.A.A.F. and those three – well those three T.W.A’s. – have a “get together” on exactly what type of satin would best become Johnny as a wedding dress. The date’s fixed, and listen for the banns next Sunday!
Regardless of that all-important conference, Mac., that ardent worshipper of the “new religion called Swing” bangs a hot and incessant tempo on the hard wood of his desk. To us it’s an awful lot of rattle, but he’s druming [sic] for Woody Herman – we humour him and leave him to it – he’s only 19 you know.
Across the room Norman – who’s taken a brief respite from his favourite pastime of misplacing urgently-required files – addresses all and sundry on the genteel of virtues of the classics. Beethoven, Schubert, Brahms and Mozart, each is deified in turn and those – swing fans are denounced and openly proclaimed destined for Hades. Even the irrepressible Mac. quits banging for a spell and appears momentarily chastised. Comes a derisive snort from

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the region of our P. 3 Branch. “Why don’t all of you grow up? Act your age.” Lofty looks down at the rest from the height of his 6 ft. 2 and gives us a disapproving glare from those champagne eyes (he would never admit it, but there’re his chief pride).
“Wrap up! I’m on the ‘phone” – but Dick always is – “Is that 89 F.E.U.? Hello Chappy! Whizzo! Roll on that boat! – Put Monie on will you?” But let’s not listen in any more as we’d better leave his private life alone. Paddy, his assistant, eyes the rest as though he’s rather doubtful he reported to the right section. Still he’s new and will learn, and, by the way! he’s the only airman on the camp who possesses a recording of Mary Martin’s “Do it Again,” although rumour has it he’s given it to a T.W.A. Talking of T.W.A’s. – the trio in the Orderly Room have resumed their giggling, drowning the rest of the din. Terry, the T.M.A., blushes for his countrywomen, and the others declare that with Johnny thrown in they are an infliction. Just now they’ve succeeded in playing a practical joke on a fresh victim – the new boy from Singapore.
All this merriment is cut short when the Flight Sergeant stalks in upon it and silently surveys his underlings with that “disciplinary” air – however he’s utterly disarmed when with flashing smiles and shining eyes the girls comment on what a good sport he is.

EIGHT popular members of “P” Staff have left recently on postings and repat. leaving a handful of indefatigables to struggle on if not regardless at least undaunted.
Wing Commander Bangay, D.F.C., the S.P.S.O. who looked so disgustingly healthy first thing in the morning that the rest of the staff felt they ought really to be on sick parade, has moved to org. to take over the S O.A. post and S.L. Wilson, O.B.E., has taken over.
S.L. Chandler, who has been overseas since 1942 (ops. most of the time) and was once Gunnery Leader with 160 Squadron, has also left us – for an Admin. course, which caused many throaty chuckles in the section he had been administering. He must be one of the highest ranking A.G.’s in the V.R.
The W.A.A.F.’s who are going on repat. are Cpls. Thorburn, Mary Longmuir and Jean Sant, all of whom came overseas with the first W.A.A.F. drafts.
W.O. Ivan Longman, a Flight Engineer who is in charge of “P” Staff Registry, is also going on repat. He completed a tour with 357 Squadron, based in India – dropping men and supplies, behind the Jap lines. Then he came to 160 Squadron in Ceylon and took part in Coastal sweeps, mine laying and, then again, “Special Duties”.
Heading for Singapore are W.A.A.F. Corporal Vera Wilson and LACW Ursula Hilton. Both have been with AHQ nearly a year.
The Corporal spent most of the war in a radar post on the top of the Dover cliffs, soothing her nerves with Bach and Beethoven. She refused to say what effect it had on the nerves of the other people. Miss Wilson has been running the camp library and helping to organize the gramophone circle here.
The LACW, known all over the place as “Sue,” plays hockey, reads “Country Life” and claims she would be the pukka outdoor type if it weren’t for a yen for cocktail parties. She went golfing a week or so back and busted her hand. Claims it’s the only time she’s had finger trouble.
F.S. Ray Elliott, A.G. cum clerk, is in hospital with a gammy foot at the time of writing. It is hoped to see him back again very soon.

THE lilting music of Strauss, shaded lights, gay laughter, beautiful women and golden wines – Vienna for one night came to Kandy. The mundane conventionality called Time dissolved – the Signals dance was on!
This was the fourth dance which the Signals Section has organised whilst at Kandy and, like the previous ones was held at the Town Hall.
Our charming hostesses carried out their duties in a most attractive manner and it was largely due to their efforts that the evening was so successful. The Station band under the direction of Sgt. Palfrey, was in attendance and carried the evening off with a swing. Special mention

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should be made of the highly satisfactory catering arrangements which were in the capable hands of P/O Seekins, the Station Catering Officer. The buffet was a work of art.
It can only be hoped that the move to Katukurunda will not result in the cessation of activities in this direction on the part of our signals friend – “do’s” like these are all too infrequent.
Yes, the evening may properly be called a “signals” success and our sincere thanks are extended to you.


I have a complaint. My morale has been shaken to its slender roots. I am upset and dismayed. The last issue of Kandy Calling has left me a miserable man. I picked it up and what did I see? A very well-executed cover design, but then my joy was dispelled as by the stroke of an axe. Why? Let me tell you. There right in the centre of the very front page was a boat FACING THE WRONG WAY!
Yours, etc.,
Group 75

I have followed the progress of Kandy Calling since its early days of duplication, and I feel that thanks should be offered to all the long succession of people who have helped to produce it. It is by no means a simple task to extract “copy” from often unwilling contributors, and to produce a magazine from it which will suit all tastes. Like the Producer of a show, the Editor is usually an unpopular man when his paper is published.
Bearing in mind the difficulties, I would like to offer one piece of constructively intended criticism. I have just read the latest issue, and I find that there are no less than three articles in it, dealing in some way with the theatre or the cinema. I have noticed previously that individual issues of the magazine have tended to concentrate on one particular subject. The earlier issues all had a very strong bias towards Sport; then for two issues Music appeared to be the prime interest. Now, it seems that we are leaning towards the Cinema.
I am sure that Kandy Calling would be more generally appreciated if it could offer a wider variety of subjects. As I have already said, I realise that the Editor is often severely handicapped by the amount of material he receives. If this is the case, then how about a few more contributions from the members of the Station? But I do believe that variety is an important factor in a Unit magazine, and that Kandy Calling would benefit from the introduction of a little more.
Yours, etc.,

ONE of my satellites, a printer’s devil, has drawn attention to the fact that in the last issue of your magazine Kandy Calling, I was grossly misrepresented and grave disservice was done to my cause. Possessing that amazing attribute of “free will,” a gift of the enemy himself, you will, I am sure, allow me some space to defend myself and my ways.
Ever since some human or other called Lewis – a mere Grub Street hack – gave to your world some letters of a devil of mine written confidentially to his nephew, Woodworm, we of the lower regions have suffered constantly from misrepresentation. Now two minor writers of your number have published some more propaganda against us, one in a fatuous article called Fairies, and the other in A Christian View point; The Cinema. May I single out some phrases for comment.? [sic]
“Privilege and duty are inseparable.” As any minor devil will tell you, this Christian tenet, if rigorously upheld, will mean the negation of human freedom. Everyone knows that to ask a human being to be responsible for anything is to curtail his liberty. Hell Below! What human ever wanted to answer for anything or anyone else. Desire, not duty, counts in hell and on earth.
“Being critical of films will lead one to consider the moral value of films.” Perhaps the most distressing quality in a Christian is his constant desire to look for morality in the most unusual places

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He is always trying to attribute goodness or badness, confusing the real issue, which, as always, is “does this or does this not give me pleasure?” Only when a work of art is weighed in the individuals balance of pleasure and pain does it reveal its true being.
It is impossible to take a sentence from the article Fairies and say that it was objectionable for the whole composition was in the worst possible taste and must be condemned as a whole. (W.N. Leak will receive a rude shock when he finally does pay us a visit!) Our intelligence service does not permit me to reveal too much, but I think I may, without laying up any torture for myself give you some account of our realms below – the only realm, in fact, that humans are allowed to visit while still enjoying (?) life.
The entrance fee is ths [sic] cost of a few beer, the password “Drunk Again.” Here there is no cacophony of sound or war of ideas as your wretched correspondent described; an appeal to any who have visited the place will dispose of that superstition. On the contrary, after a short journey the visitor finds himself removed from earth and he is the possessor of a new soul. His imaginative powers are increased; his visual capacity doubled or even trebled, with the result that he sees in his surroundings an unusual beauty and charm. A glorious bonhomie steal over him until at last he feels at one with nature. I can assure your readers that our accommodation is well-nigh unlimited and that Friday night is a favourite with our devotees . . . .
Finally, an appeal. Two thousand years of Christian influence has compelled us to exist only in the minds of human beings and we can no longer stalk the earth in semi-human form. May I remind all supporters of our cause that our task would be much easier if only they banished from their thoughts such values as virtue, vice, beauty, truth, love, etc. As soon as each human realises that there are no eternal values but the subjective viewpoint is the right one, then my associates and I can have free access to his soul. So – cast off the shroud of Christianity and don the colours of
Yours, etc.,

1. (b) Animal.
2. Joan Fontaine.
3. Eros – Piccadilly Circus.
4. Richard Llewellyn.
5. (a) Hobart.
(b) Tirana.
(c) Lima.
(d) Buenos-Aires.
6. Ross Parker of Radio SEAC fame.
7. Vice Admiral Blandly, C.O., U.S. Navy division research special weapons.
8. Cornwall.
9. (a) 21. (b) 21. (c) 18.
10. Australia.
11. 12 Years.
12. Nine Provinces. North, South, East, West, N.W., N. Central, Central, Uva, Sabaragamuwa.

Photographic Section
1st Prize. “CHICO” by LAC R. Dance
2nd Prize. “WEETON” by F/S Turner
3rd Prize. “WATER LILY” by F/L B.M. Baker
Serious Article Section.
1st Prize. “KANDY VISIT” by “SEL”
2nd Prize. “INDIA” by AC. D.H. Waters
3rd Prize. “IT WAS A ROTTEN FILM” by J.T.
Light Article Section.
1st Prize. “ARS AMATORIA” by P.J.C.
2nd Prize. “BOOK REVIEWS” by R.S.
3rd Prize “EDUCATION” by E. Taylor

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Ceylon Printers Ltd., Kandy.


RAF Station Kandy, “Kandy Calling September 1946,” IBCC Digital Archive, accessed December 8, 2023, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/document/17728.

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