Nice one David. I hadm't seen any recent news reports about Pujji. Prompted me to look around again: Ministry of Defence | Defence News | History and Honour | Veteran WWII pilot remembers flying for Empire Gravesend Reporter 90 years old and still going strong. May he continue to do so for many years to come
Any chance you could see him Kyt ? .... just once ... wouldn't that be your biggest thrill ? ..... he now lives in Gravesend Kent ... hurry give it a try !! :clapping:
From an article in The Guardian a few years ago about non-white soldiers who fought in the British armed forces in the Second World War, which was partly a response to racist comments about "where were 'they' when...": Mahinder Singh Pujji, age 84 Squadron leader, Royal Air Force Mahinder Singh Pujji is one of the 2.5 million Indians who left their homes during the second world war to fight for a country they regarded as the motherland. Many ended up giving their lives for Britain, but the sacrifice they made barely registered in either Britain or India. Pujji is 84 and lives in a neat flat in sheltered accommodation in Gravesend, Kent. Ramrod-straight, he greets us in RAF tie. He is a product of empire - his father was a senior officer in the colonial administration. Born in Simla at the end of the first war, he remembers growing up in the Raj as a "wonderful time". "It's very difficult for you to understand," he says. "Today, we say India or England, but then it was just one." After college in Lahore, he learned to fly, and when war broke out saw an advertisement: "Pilots needed for Royal Air Force." "I could have joined the Indian Air Force any time I wanted to - but I was quite comfortable in a civil job which was well paid and for a British company. But this was an opportunity for me to go abroad and see the world." He was among 24 Indians accepted immediately for training and to develop "the manners that are required of a commissioned officer". It was August 1940 - the height of the Battle of Britain. "We were all experienced pilots. Among us were very famous Indian pilots. They were the pioneers who had flown solo flights from India to London and created records. "I was very happy. My salary doubled and in one month's time I was on the boat to London. As officers, we were entitled to first class. I had a cabin of my own and I thought, 'This is worth taking any risk.'" He was just 22. Even in training, Pujji insisted that he be allowed to fly with his turban, unlike many other Sikh flyers - and he is probably the only fighter pilot to have done so. "I thought I was a very religious man, I shouldn't take off my turban. The British people were so nice and accommodating. They respected that. I had a special strap made to hold my earphones. I used to carry a spare turban with me so I would have one if I got shot down." In wartime Britain, Pujji became used to being a curiosity. "On one occasion, I was driving through to Bath and a traffic policeman in the centre of the traffic saw me in my car and he just froze in amazement." But everyone was kind to the RAF officer. "Everybody was lovely and wonderful. In the evenings we would have VIP treatment. They wouldn't let us pay for tickets in the cinema and in restaurants we got sugar [which was rationed]. People saluted me and called me sir." During the Blitz, bombers attacked London every night. "I was impressed with the courage of the English people - there was no panic. I used to watch movies - the screen would go blank for the air-raid warning. People were told, 'If you would like to go to the shelters, please make your way out now,' and nobody would get up. I was really amazed at how brave these people were." Pujji trained to fly Hurricanes, less glamorous than a Spitfire but loved by their pilots for their manoeuverability and heavy-calibre weapons. "Inside a fighter plane it's very cramped - there's not much room for movement. There's a big panel in front of you. There's an oxygen mask - you are not used to it. It irritated me and I would often fly with it off." Of the 24 pilots who came over from India, eight were considered suitable for fighters, including Pujji. The odds against survival were high. "Among these fighters, six were killed in the first year I was here." He was posted to 258 squadron, near Croydon, south London. "Once, 12 of us went escorting bombers over occupied France. I was enjoying the flight. Then suddenly I saw beautiful fireworks around us - it didn't dawn on me for a couple of seconds that they were firing at us from down below. In ignorance I was enjoying it. "The squadron split up. Very soon I was alone. I looked in the mirror and saw German fighters. The Messerschmitts were very fast, but the Hurricane could turn a tight circle. Either they hit us straight away or just missed us. It was thrilling - maybe I am an exception, but I was not scared." The increasing casualty rates hit his squadron hard - two or three pilots would disappear every day. And every day, the group captain would come in and ask for volunteers for the day's operation. "I could see how brave these young pilots were. Everybody would raise their hand. They knew they would not all come back. Every evening, there would be two or three less people at dinner. But by breakfast, they would be replaced, and so it went on." Pujji almost became a casualty himself several times. On one occasion his badly shot-up Hurricane nearly crashed into the English Channel, and Pujji was advised to ditch in the sea by the "nice English girls" in the control room. "But I couldn't swim, you see. I carried on until I saw the white cliffs of Dover and I thought, 'I'll make it.' The aircraft was a total wreck - I was dragged out and I heard voices saying, 'He's still alive, he's still alive.' Because my eyes were closed I couldn't see. The padding of my turban saved me - it was full of blood. I was taken to the hospital but after seven days I was back to flying again." After hundreds of missions, he was posted to the north African desert, and then to India, fighting rebels on the Afghan border. Posted to Burma, he ended up in one of the fiercest conflicts of the war. Flying in a reconnaissance squadron, Pujji's task was to search for and attack Japanese troops. "I saw a small column. I would be flying very low and they would hide. I would go up so they would come out again and dive back and open all my guns," he says. "It happened very often. I felt elated. Now I feel very bad when I think about it. I was very cruel. I am responsible for killing many Japanese." By this time, it was 1944 and he was effectively commanding a squadron which became known as the "eyes of the 14th army". On one occasion he located a lost troop of 300 US soldiers, saving their lives. He became one of the few Asian pilots to be awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross. Soon after the war he married, only to discover he had TB. "I was told I had six months to live. I said I had one request - send me back to my home. I want to be with my family." Back in India, he recovered - despite what the doctors had told him. From then on, his life reads like a Boy's Own adventure tale: he flew racing planes across India; he won gliding championships and flew with Nehru, India's first prime minister. Eventually, he stopped wearing his turban, partly because it got in the way, partly because he felt different about religion. "My father said, 'You have lost your religion,' but for me, I wanted to cut off my hair." When his career finished in 1974, he finally retired to Kent. "When I retired, I had to settle down somewhere and I had such a wonderful impression of England from the 1940s, I thought, 'I'll come here.' I was allowed to enter the UK as the government's 'honoured guest' in 1974 - which I found out was very rare." He has lived here ever since, even after his wife's death. But his enthusiasm for Britain is not quite what it was. "Now, the man in the street thinks every Indian is illiterate. Once I was driving in town and I had to pick my wife up - it was a double yellow line. And this young policeman started shouting at me, as if I was stupid. Then I saw him across the road with a white driver being very polite. I didn't want to tell him I was an officer - he would have saluted me during the war. "This is not the England I knew - but maybe if my story is told, then people will remember us and what we have done."
He had the headphones removed and adapted to fit over his turban. Later in the war, in Burma a number of Sikh pilots had the same set up (though I don't think I've ever come across a photo of the setup)
I would have loved to have met him at the recent event..... if I had known I'd have made an effort to get down there. From the articles above, he appears to have gone to India for a couple of months. So will be writing to him over christmas, at the very least.
