A LETTER from INDIA - by Lt. James Lynch - 1944

"The same old Jimmy, always kidding," chuckled former fellow-workers at the News Capitol upon receipt of a letter from 2nd. Lt. James M. Lynch, U. S. Army Signal Corps, now located "somewhere in India."

Some of the sights and "smells" of India were described in humorous fashion in the airmail letter by the former News-Advertiser reporter, who is the son of Mr. and Mrs. James M. Lynch of 208 South Paint street. Excerpts from the letter, which was only six days enroute, follow:

"Great place, India! You can smell parts of it for miles. It is rumored that one native fell into the ocean once---but I'm sure that's the closest any of them ever got to a bath. My hygiene teacher in grade school would go into a fit if she realized the nearness to each and every type of disease one of her pupils is. However, she need not worry, as the army has punctured my arms with so many needles I look like a pin cushion that gramma discarded after 50 years of loyal service, and through my blood run more chemicals than any drug store has in the Old Capitol.

"But seriously, as in all cities, there is the good and the not so good part and nosey Lynch had to see how the other half lives. So, mounting my trusty British-made bike, I pedalled through some of the narrow streets to learn about India for four annas (about 8 cents) an hour.

"Well, first, sanitary conditions aren't. Also it seems that there are more people than there are houses, so a great number make their bed where they are when the desire to sleep arises. That may be on the sidewalk, doorstep, church step, park, etc., except the gutter or curb stone. Understand, the curb made a great head rest for them until the U. S. army came to town; too many GI hell-drivers in army trucks now to sleep there with any feeling of security.

"There are also a few residents of this place who are either too poor to own anything or just don't care to have their laundry sent out. So they have solved the problem by just not wearing anything except what they had when they were born. Kind of startling, but you get used to it.

"Begging here has reached its highest notch as an honorable profession and the competition is fierce. When an American strolls down the main drag he is usually followed by at least 10---all saying: "No mommy, no poppy, no sister, no brother, hungry; you rich American give!" When you refuse 711 times, they finally give up, and utter an oath usually heard in the American home only when father hits his thumb with a hammer. However, if you should give them some money, hoping to get rid of the pests, then you find that instead of losing 10, the number has grown to 50.

"The shoe shine boys are the same. Let one shine your shoes in an effort to get rid of the orphanage following you and you immediately have the student body of the whole town at your throat. Solution to this problem is to select a shop along the street, go in and buy something and then just stay in the store and wait them out.

"At first I was a bit embarrassed by the tribe following me and begging and pleading to have my shoes shined, till I noticed that each American on the street had his own family around him.

"The trip over was wonderful. I enjoyed every bit of it---and I'll bet some of you would rather come the way I did. Much more comfortable, faster, not crowded, cool and you see a lot more. Just think, I've been to South America, Africa and now India---that's something for me. I've met some swell fellows on the way, too, and am happy to say most of the fellows I'm with here are aces."

••• from the Private Press of Dave Webb, Chillicothe, Ohio