Dust on My Shoes

I strained my eyes in vain to see through the moving mists ahead and glimpse the land which lay before us, the mountainous wilderness through which we would have to pass by secret ways before reaching the Chindwin Valley, and wondered what Burma might hold for. For Burma is a deadly place......

I read Peter Pinney's trilogy of WW2 novels a few years back and was enthralled. After the last I recall reading up on Pinney and after his return from the war it could be said he was unsettled with the possibility of the boredom of suburban life. He upped and basically travelled with immediate effect. When asked why at one point he replied along the lines that he wanted to go to places he had never been. By goodness, I can relate to this. Just on my walks in my neighbourhood the need to look up a street I have never been is always an urge. Imagine just being able to just up stumps and clear off to places unknown without care for comfort or home. This is for me real travel, taking a look.

In Greece we are told of “Guerrillas, Girls and Mined Railways.” It is just after the end of World War 2 and with that a country in the throes of civil war. He gets to see a train blown up, among other events, as he travels onto Turkey with its “Police, Petites Bêtes and Prostitutes.” While here he met Dutchman Robert Marchand who became his travelling companion for most parts of this journey. Pinney described him as debonair, cynical, light hearted, proud and resolute: a peerless companion.

After leaving Turkey they discovered “Dust, Liquor and the Syrian Army” Many a lie was told by the duo to get around officious border guards with the big one being that of joining the army. Iraq “whom the gods would destroy, they make mad first” At one point there is a court to face and the judges askes are they Christians or Jews? Christians they answered. ‘Case dismissed.'

Onto “A blithe Regard for Facts” that is Iran. Pinney describes the splendour of Tehran that is equalled by the squalor of its suburbs. Next is Afghanistan with its “Snow, Hashish and Red Pants” Pinney describes it as militant. That describes it's entire existence from the deep past to the present. Interestingly he describes that behind the suspicious mind of the locals was but a ‘generous nature of extraordinary hospitality'.

A short chapter on going through Pakistan, “Refugees, and echoes of the Past”, and into India with “Each Skull a box of worms before its time, To fish for bloaters of Sub-Human crime”. He described Calcutta as “....an evil city and a dirty one, where the rich are callous and the poor legion; a place of many gods but little godliness.” At this point Pinney and Marchand are keen to travel to Burma but there are many official obstacles, so they head as close as possible to Assam, land of “The Plains, the Jungle and Drunk Headhunters.” While there they hook up with another lost soul, an Italian called Roie Da Rosa who was described as “friendly” and having “...less money than we...”.

Last is Burma and “The Road to Mandalay”. The longest chapter of the book at 60 pages in my copy and a riveting read. Again in the midst of a civil war both Pinney and Marchand are looking for that road to lead them to မန္တလေး. Most of their time is spent in Homalin under virtual arrest by the local authorities but that does not stop the telling of a fascinating and ultimately bitter stay. Burma is a deadly place.

This is a genuine adventure from the beginning to the end told by Pinney. Some descriptors can be less than PC by today's writing standards, but that should not stop anyone who enjoys adventure travel looking out for this exceptional book. Pinney is a genuinely interesting writer and deserves a wider audience.

Recommended for those that just want to give it all away and go take a look.