mini-SITREP XLVIII June 2016 DIARY OF EVENTS: 2016 AUSTRALIA Gold Coast: Sunday Curry Lunch, Krish Indian Restaurant, Robina 14.07.2016 Brisbane: Sunday Curry Lunch, Oxley Golf Club 13.11.2016 Contact: Alastair Napier Bax. Tel: 07-3372 7278 <[email protected]> Perth: Bayswater Hotel (?) ??.09.2016 Contact: Aylwin Halligan-Jolley <[email protected]> EA Schools: Picnic, Lane Cove River National Park, Sydney 23.10.2016 Contact: Dave Lichtenstein. 041-259 9939 <[email protected]> ENGLAND Officers’ Mess, Royal Logistic Corps, Deepcut, Surrey. Curry lunch Wed 20.07.2016 Contact: John Harman <[email protected]> Tel: (0044) 1635 551182. Mob: 078-032 81357. 47 Enborne Road, Newbury, Berkshire RG14 6AG KENYA Nairobi Clubhouse: Remembrance Sunday and Curry Lunch 06.11.2016 Contact: Dennis Leete <[email protected]> NEW ZEALAND Auckland: Lunch at Soljans Winery, Kumeu TBA Contact: Mike Innes-Walker <[email protected]> SOUTH AFRICA Cape Town: Lunch at Foresters Arms, Newlands 14 Jul 2016 Contact: Geoff Trollope. Tel: 021-855 2734 <[email protected]> Johannesburg: Sunday Curry lunch, German Club, Paulshof (Joburg) ??.10.2016 Contact: Keith Elliot. Tel: 011-802 6054 <[email protected]> KwaZulu-Natal: Sunday Carveries: Fern Hill Hotel, nr Midmar Dam 19/6; 18/9; 13/11 Contact: Jenny/Bruce Rooken-Smith. Tel: 033-330 4012 <[email protected]> Editor: Bruce Rooken-Smith, Box 48 Merrivale, 3291, South Africa Kenya Regiment Website <www.Kenyaregiment.org> is now run by Iain Morrison’s son, Graeme. [Ed. My thanks, to Editors, John Catton (Rhino Link- RL) and Shel Arensen (Old Africa - OA) for allowing me to reproduce articles which first appeared in their magazines, to contributors, and Jenny for proofreading.] Front cover: Ngorongoro’s Lake Magadi by Brian Wakeford Back cover: Tanzania’s Rift Valley Sunrise by Brian Wakeford The views expressed in mini-SITREP XLVIII are solely those of the contributors and do not necessarily reflect the opinionsTHE ofRETURN the Editor OF, nor THE those COHORT of the Association – E&OE WINSTON CHURCHILL ON WHISKY Sir Winston Churchill was once asked about his position on whisky. Here's how he answered: "If you mean whisky, the devil's brew, the poison scourge, the bloody monster that defiles innocence, dethrones reason, destroys the home, creates misery and poverty, yea, literally takes the bread from the mouths of little children; if you mean that evil drink that topples men and women from the pinnacles of righteous and gracious living into the bottomless pit of degradation, shame, despair, helplessness and hopelessness, then, my friend, I am opposed to it with every fibre of my being. "However, if by whisky you mean the oil of conversation, the philosophic wine, the elixir of life, the ale that is consumed when good fellows get together, that puts a song in their hearts and the warm glow of contentment in their eyes; if you mean good cheer, the stimulating sip that puts a little spring in the step of an elderly gentleman on a frosty morning; if you mean that drink that enables man to magnify his joy, and to forget life's great tragedies and heartbreaks and sorrow; if you mean that drink the sale of which pours into our treasuries untold millions of pounds each year, that provides tender care for our little crippled children, our blind, our deaf, our dumb, our pitifully aged and infirm, to build the finest highways, hospitals, universities, and community colleges in this nation... then my friend, I am absolutely, unequivocally in favour of it! "This is my position, and as always, I refuse to compromise on matters of principle!” His vocabulary and command of the English language was unparalleled. How I wish we had politicians and statesmen of his calibre around today. CORRESPONDENCE [Ed: I refer to Venn Féy’s article about Kenton College in m-S XLVII pp27/29. Whilst proofreading XLVII for the umpteenth time, and still finding errors, I noticed that Grev Gunson also went to Kenton - see Grev’s obituary pp38-40]. Venn mentioned a ‘Scots boy called McCalman’ - the following is an extract from KR174 Alistair McCalman’s memoirs leading up to his admittance to Kenton College. ‘It so happened that shortly after this a Capt. L.M.R. Gordon, a former regular Army Officer from the Gordon Highlanders, had decided to open a preparatory school for boys, to be known as Kenya Grange, seven miles from Lumbwa railway station. It was more expensive than Nairobi but my parents decided to send me there. ‘The School which was at slightly less than 7,000 feet was in beautiful green countryside adjoining the Mau Forest. It had been a large farm house to which a new building for class rooms had been added, all stone and modern. There were not many more than 30 boys the first term, but numbers increased later. ‘The staff consisted of the headmaster and three masters all who had served as front line officers on the Western Front in France. They were Mr. Cramb, a Scot who had been a Maj. in the Royal Engineers and had been blown up by a German counter mine and all of him but one arm was buried, and was pulled out by his men. He was deaf as a consequence in one ear; Mr. Davis, who had been badly wounded in one knee and was fairly lame, and Mr. Gear who had sustained stomach wounds. ‘Mr. Davis was the only one without a University degree. He had left Cambridge after two years to join Kitchener's Army in 1915 and had served three years in France. ‘All the assistant masters had come out to BEA as members of the "British East Africa Disabled Officers Company” (BEADOC). Its object was to grow flax for linen, the price of which had gone sky high as it was used both in aeroplanes and balloons, and still high in 1919. Unfortunately, it required expensive machinery and in 1920 the price slumped and BEADOC as well as scores of other flax growers went bust. This left the officers almost penniless, far from home and they were only too glad to get a job teaching, at which they all proved excellent. ‘One can imagine there can be no greater contrast to Nairobi School. Discipline was extremely strict, backed up by fairly liberal use of the cane by Capt. Gordon. Except for him all the other officers were popular; Mr. Davis in particular, being very well loved. The Matron was a little lame woman called Miss. Bacon, she also was very strict, but very good at her job, an excellent caterer and very well thought of by all. The food was always plentiful and first class. We played football four days a week and cricket on Wednesdays and Saturdays. ‘Capt. Gordon once decided to introduce rugby and lectured us on the rules. He decided to take part himself and in a scrum found himself covered with small boys when the scrum collapsed. Only his bottom was showing. I noticed my friend Geoffrey Caddick glance at the scrum, take a good look to see if any masters were watching, take three paces backwards and make a running kick followed by three or four more at the exposed behind! ‘Geoffrey had often been a victim of Gordon's vile temper and it was sweet revenge. Gordon never found out who it was but we never played rugby after that. 1 ‘For the first two months of one term we had a new master in place of Mr. Gear who had gone on leave to England. His name was Oliver Baldwin, the son of Stanley Baldwin, the Prime Minister. He had also fought on the Western Front but had later served in Armenia, Georgia and Russia against the Bolsheviks. He was an extraordinarily fine linguist speaking English, French and Russian with equal fluency; Armenian and German well, as well as Arabic, Spanish and Italian. He spoke Swahili quite well after only three months. He taught us French, English and Latin and was an exceptionally good teacher. ‘We boys, with our vast experience of other ex-soldiers were quite expert, soon found that it was not too difficult to get him away from Latin verbs to tales of the Civil War in which he had been twice captured by the Bolsheviks but rescued by the White Russians. He was very kind hearted and I think at times we must have appeared rather little savages. ‘One Sunday we were on a school walk along a path through the forest in single file, Mr. Baldwin bringing up the rear. The leading boy suddenly came on the body of a dead Kikuyu lying across the path. He only commented "mind the dead man" and walked round the body and was followed by the rest of us. ‘The Kikuyu, away from their Reserves, owing to tribal taboos at that time, never buried a dead body unless compelled to do so and the sight of a corpse was not too strange. One little Turk, however, just stepped over the body. This, even we considered was disrespectful. Mr. Baldwin was, I'm afraid, most shocked. He was a wonderful person and I think all the boys were devoted to him. I well remember being almost in tears when he left. It was raining very heavily and I remember him wearing a greenish yellow macintosh, mounting his horse and riding away into the storm. ‘Some 20 years later I was a Subaltern in G(R)* in Beirut, Lebanon. One evening I went into the "Dugout", a popular spot in the basement of the Normandie Hotel and saw Mr.