New Delhi. Sept. 6th
RIOT POLICE
Back in the Comex-India camp we are faced with many disappointments — there are now about 1,000 students here, and the facilities just cannot cope. We had paid £6 10s in advance for buffet meals, but this has been returned to us so that we can eat out if we choose. The electricity is unsafe, and two tents have burned down in thirty seconds each. Security is nil, and a lot of gear has been stolen from at least one contingent. Also, the Delhi students feel we should be at the university, and are threatening to burn down the tents! We now have two squads of riot police. Local shop-keepers have stalls everywhere and charge exorbitant prices for such things as cold drinks and fruit. Back
We stopped just before sunset for char at an American hotel built for the road-makers, and as we set away, we found that Cuddles was far from well. Maximum speed was 25 m.p.h. - fuel starvation: i.e. bog-paper in the filters! Both Rikki and Don gave up, feeling unwell and bored after an hour each, and I was wakened from sleep to takeover. It was a terrible drag. The boredom of the road was now double, and in the dark, with absolutely everyone asleep, I felt kind of lonely out there in nowhere with a sick Cuddles. Then, going up a gentle hill just twenty miles from Herat our destination, Cuddles just gave up. I restarted her by running back down the hill and gained about 20ft before the engine died again. I repeated this four times before getting over the top, and it was a gentle descent from there on. She died again after a bog stop but after two bump starts got away. Then the airfield camp loomed up - we had finally made it! Cuddles finally gave up fifty yards from the airport building and refused to restart, so we pushed her shamefacedly in about midnight. Back
Today, the 16th, tne mechanics are cleaning the whole system, including the tank, and the bog paper has been retrieved. During the proceedings, they discovered another cover coming off a rear tyre! That makes five.
We are due to cross over into Iran tomorrow. Because of cholera we are bound to be quarantined for up to three days so we are going to hit them with all twenty coaches at once. The camp holds thirty-six so the reaction should be "My God" or "Mine Allah" as the case may be, and quarantine may be waived in the face of five hundred. I have been writing this letter in stages today, and now it is about 11:30pm. It is really cold at night, and I am sitting in my sleeping bag on concrete a few yards from the runway, with light provided by a huge arc-lamp.
As Tony was ill on leaving Dehli, I took over boot packing. The boot used to be pretty full, and in Dehli I was faced with re-organising to include three crates of tinned meat, ten Afghan coats, and a huge rucksack belonging to Sandra, an Edinburgh medical student we are taking home from Dehli. It took hours of planning and sorting but eventually it was done - in Kabul, Rikkie wrecked the whole thing by raking out his Afghan coat, and I had to do it again.
Here, in Herat, we took everything out of the coach and repacked it, shelves and all. More last minute coats have been bought, and another fifty cans of corned beef - 1s 1d a tin! So I had to do the boot again. Now I have twenty-four Afghan coats, two carpets and the crate of meat, and still everything goes in. We are also carrying three crates and a tyre in the coach, so life is getting a bit cramped. In addition, souvenirs are being slung under the racks as well as on top. Mind you, the bog-paper (originally slung from the racks on string from end to end) has gone down considerably since the "trots" took hold, and for nose-blowing now that the nights are so cold, so there is more room under the racks!

The mechanics, Fudge and Alastair, have been at Cuddles for twelve hours now, and she still won't go. They have worked their way from the tank to the engine - we are all silently praying. Back