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The First Principal (1958-1965)
Col. J.H.H. Coombes
An Introduction
By Kazi Zulkader Siddiqui, kit
no. 671/Latif
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The first principal of
Cadet College Petaro was Colonel (R) John Harold Henry Coombes, CBE,
E.R.D., M.A.(Oxon), who evokes extreme nostalgic memories for those who
have known him, have worked with him, or were students of Cadet College
Petaro during his period. He left his mark on the college for posterity.
His vision, his tireless efforts and his dedication towards this college
continue to bear fruits to this day.
Col. Coombes was born
on 28 December 1906 at Guernsey, UK, and died on 18 February 1978 at
Sellindge, Kent, UK after suffering a heart attack. His body was cremated
near his home.
The colonel married twice. His first
wife was Alice, who expired while the colonel was still the principal of
Cadet College Petaro. Later on, he married Elsie Annie in the first quarter
of 1974 at Folkstone, Kent. She had visited Petaro along with the Colonel
in 1971 in his last ever visit to the College.
J.H.H. Coombes started his miltary
career in 1926, when he joined the 1st Battalion of the Royal Guernsey
Light Infantry as a 2nd Lieutenant. On 9th November 1932, he was inducted
into the 57th (Home Counties) Forward Brigade of the Royal Artillery as a
2nd Lieutenant. (Ref: pg 7086 of The London Gazette, 1932). With the
gathering of clouds of war, Lt. Coombes was called to serve as a regular on
8th May 1935 (ref: pg 2984 of The London Gazette, 1935).
Exactly three years from his date
of induction into the Artillery, he was promoted to the rank of a
Lieutenant as a Supplementary Reserve Officer on 9th November 1935. (ref:
pg 533 of The London Gazette, 1936).
During the War, he was given the
rank of a captain. He was promoted to the rank of a major during the war
and retained that rank until the end of the Second World War.
In recognition of his gallantry
during the war, he was promoted to the rank of a Lieutenant Colonel (Temp).
And on 5th December 1946, the King approved a "Mention" of his
name for gallantry and distinguished services in the field (ref: pg
5948 of The London Gazette, 1946). He was also moved to the Royal Army
Educational Corps (RAEC).
On 3 June 1953, he was promoted to
the rank of a full Colonel in the Royal British Army (ref: pg 625 of
The London Gazette, 1954). And in November 1953, Queen Elizabeth II
conferred the award of Army Emergency Reserve Decoration (E.R.D.) on
him (ref: pg 5842 of The London Gazette, 1953).
He received his highest honour from
the British government on 8th May 1956, when the Queen ordered his appointment
to be the "Additional Commander of the Military Division of the Most
Excellent Order of the British Empire" (CBE) in recognition of
distinguished services in Malaya during July to December 1955.
The next few months changed the
course of Col. Coombes career. He was riding high, and was tipped to be
promoted to the rank of a Major General. That is when he met with his major
stumbling block.
The Colonel was always notorious
for his dangerous car driving right up to the end of his life, a habit he
never changed. On 20th October 1956 at around 5:40pm, while he was driving
his car in Singapore on Changi Road in the direction of the city, his car
swerved onto a grass verge on the left side of the road and struck an
Indian pedestrian from behind, leading to his instantaneous death. The
Colonel continued driving, and did not report the accident to the police
for the next fifteen hours. Instead he went to a garage and had the head
light of his car repaired. This had been broken at the time of the impact.
The windscreen of his car had also shattered and disintegrated completely
on collision.
The Traffic District Court Judge
Ahmad Bin Ibrahim convicted him on 1st December 1956 and fined him $500
(under Court Arrest Case no. 20 of 1956, I.P.No. 1741/56"TP". The
Deputy Public Prosecutor thought that the fine imposed was too light for
the death of the pedestrian, and appealed against the judgment to the High
Court of Singapore. Judge J. Knight issued a revised judgment on 5 February
1957 ordering Col. Coombes to serve six months in prison for having caused
the death of a pedestrian and returned the fine. The conviction was upheld.
This "lamentable affair"
as described by the High Court Judge J. Knight in his judgment brought the
colonel's military career to an end. He was to have been promoted to the
rank of a Major General. He was let off relatively lightly because of his
otherwise impeccable record. He resigned from the Army on 5th February 1957
- the same day as the final high court judgment against him (ref: pg 2405
of The London Gazette, 1957). He returned to the UK in the summer of 1957
after serving his sentence in Changi Jail. The colonel told friends in
later years that he was incarcerated in a communal cell with rapists and
murderers. (Full details of this unfortunate incident are recorded in the
Certificate Result of Appeal under Magistrate Appeal no. 282 of 1956 in the
High Court of the Colony of Singapore).
His loss to the Royal British Army
was to be Petaro's gain, although it was unfortunate for him. Upon his return
to the UK, while he was looking for a job, he saw the advertisement for
Petaro and applied and was selected. He moved to Pakistan in March 1958.
His move to Petaro brought out the best in him.
Cadet College Petaro got the ideal
leadership one can imagine under his able management and vision, and he
built it on sound principles and traditions that have had a lasting effect
over the following decades. CCP and Pakistan are indebted to him forever.
Prior to Col. Coombes, the college
was run by Mr. Muhammad Hasnain for a short
period of less than seven months while the search for an experienced full
time principal was on. Mr. Hasnain was the In
Charge (Acting Principal) of the college from August 25, 1957 until Col.
Coombes took over as Principal on March 20, 1958. However, Col. Coombes was
in reality the first Principal of Cadet College Petaro on a permanent basis
and who molded and built the college as such. He remained the Principal of
the college for over 7 years when he finally left the college in 1965 and
handed over charge to Cdr.(R) Firoz Shah the second principal.
The following articles written by
his staff members and cadets bring out the story of how Petaro rose under
this great man’s efforts in such a short period of time. These also
demonstrate the love the authors bore for this great man and his
dedication, and enlighten us on his life and achievements. Details of his
life history can be seen in the article by Cdre.(R) Mirza Ashfaque Beg
which is reproduced below.
His last few years were spent at
his home in Sellindge which he had named as “Petaro” out of his extreme
love for the institution that he had built and nurtured.
After his return from Pakistan to
the UK in 1965, Col. Coombes settled down in Sellindge, Kent. In 1968, the
Colonel became the Deputy Director of the Southwark Diocesan Board of
Education, which looked after the Church of England schools in the south
part of metropolitan London and the surrounding Home Counties.
The colonel was forced to retire
finally in 1974 due to ill health when he suffered a stroke. He died on 18
February 1978 due to a heart attack at a hospital in Ashford, which is
close to his home in Sellindge, Kent as recorded on his death certificate.
His second wife Elsie survived him.
Col. Coombes stands tall amongst
all Petarians - staff and cadets. He was a visionary and a man of action
and decision. He set the standards, and nurtured the college in its infancy
and childhood.
He was followed by Cdr.(R) Firoz Shah, who brought the
college to maturity during his tenure from 1965 to 1972 and took the
college to new heights with successes in academics and sports. Cdr.(R)
Firoz Shah's successor Prof. Syed Shaida Azim was the only
civilian principal in the history of the college. Having been associated
with the college as the Vice Principal almost from its inception and
participating alongside the first two principals in its development, he
ended up being the third principal of the college between 1972 and 1975.
Thus, his contributions were critical for the development and growth of
this great institution. The college had matured.
Col.(R) Coombes had written his
World War II memoirs, including an account as prisoner of war during the
Malaya campaign. This book was first published in 1948 under the title of
“Banpong Express”. It was never printed again. Copies of the first original
edition are difficult to find. This book was then reprinted as a part of a
memorial book on Col. Coombes by the Petarian Foundation on the occasion
of the Golden Jubilee of Cadet College Petaro in February 2007.
I am indebted to Mr. Jeffrey Griffiths,
ex-colleague of the colonel in the UK after he left Petaro, who made great
efforts in digging out a lot of information about his last few years. He
also got me a copy of the complete judgment passed against the Colonel by
the High Court in Singapore.
Col.
Coombes - A Legend
[This article was written in the beginning of 1966,
when Col. Coombes was alive and was 59 years old, shortly after he had
retired from the position of Principal of Cadet College Petaro. It was originally
printed in The Cadet magazine of 1966 and later again in The
Cadet magazine of 1978, and as a part of the book on Col. Coombes
in 2007]
My earliest memory of this giant of
a man having a high forehead, a big Western sheriff moustache, and pink and
tan face, goes back to my school days at Mirpurkhas about eight years ago.
My eternal impressions of this
great man
Col.
Coombes, to all appearance, is a plain, downright matter-of-fact fellow,
with much less of poetry about him than rich prose. There is little of
romance in his nature, but a great deal of strong natural feeling. He
excels in humor more than in wit; is jolly rather than gay; melancholy
rather than morose and can easily be moved to a sudden tear or a loud
laugh; but he loathes sentimentality. He is a boon companion if you allow
him to have his humor, and he will stand by a friend with life and purse.
He is most graceful in war, particularly when he is victorious. When
praised, he will blush like a school girl. He has an Eastern heart and
Western mind.
Though inherently a good-hearted,
good-tempered old fellow, he is singularly fond of being in the midst of
contention. It is one of his peculiarities that he only relishes the
beginning of an affray, going into a fight with alacrity but coming out of
it grumbling even when he is victorious. Though no one fights with more
obstinacy to carry a contested point, yet when the battle is over and he
comes to reconciliation, he is so much taken up with the mere shaking of
hands, that he is apt to let his antagonist pocket all that they have been
quarrelling about. He is like a stout ship which will weather the roughest
storm uninjured, but roll its mast overboard in the succeeding calm.
This, in short, is the alpha and
omega of Coombes' nature as I have learnt through years of association.
Col. Coombes at 59 looks
energetically fit. His mobile decisive grin is still as practical and as
wide as the English Channel, and his friendly eyes are as bright a sea-blue
as ever.
Early Life:
Young
John's early life can be condensed into a single sentence which is aptly
quoted in Gray's Elegy:
"That short
and simple annals of the poor".
He was born on 28th December
1906 and named John Harold Henry Coombes. His father was a fisherman in
Guernsey, the second largest of the Channel Islands. His mother died when
he was 3 years old. Securing a scholarship to Elizabeth College, Guernsey
as a day scholar, he walked 4 miles daily to school and then back home. He
would leave his home at 7 in the morning and return at 8 in the evening
after a full day of drill, lessons, games and prep. He was captain of
athletics and colour-holder in football and hockey. He also played cricket
and took part in shooting, besides being a prefect and sergeant in the
Officers Training Corps from 1918 to 1924.
He won a scholarship to Pembroke
College, Oxford in Mathematics (1924-28). Excelling in sports as usual, he
was also a College colour-holder in hockey, football, and cricket, and was
the Oxfordshire hockey captain from 1926 to 1928. At the same time, he was
commissioned as 2nd Lieutenant in 1st Battalion
of Royal Guernsey Light Infantry. There was conscription in Guernsey and he
did a 2-month yearly training during his vacations. He also took part in
the Rhine Army of Occupation (when Britain occupied Germany after World War
I until 1931). Col. Coombes recalls this period as a wonderful experience,
which made him determined to be a soldier one day.
Hard work through incredible hours
is the Coombes' formula adopted perhaps early in life. He simply made sure
that as sands of time passed through his hourglass, each grain meant to do
something in his programme. As I try to compress into a few pages the life
and lessons of this iron disciplined yet warm-hearted man, I can see the
kindly twinkle that would come into his eyes at the mention of hard work. I
seem to hear him say, "Boy, just remember that most of this world's
useful work is done by people who are pressed for time, or tired, or don't
feel well. There is one way to get a job done - just shove your back into
it and do it".
In 1928, he got double pneumonia at
the time of Degree Examination, so he could not take it. Instead of
returning for a 5th year at Oxford, he took a job as an
inspector of cotton plantations in the Sudan, where he stayed from 1928 to
1932. There he learnt to read and write Arabic and decided to join the
Sudan Civil Service. He remembers: "My application was turned down,
since they wanted young men from Oxford and Cambridge. So I became a
prep-school master at £ 90 a year", whereas he had been earning £
1,000 a year with free house, horses, camels and servants in the Sudan
(there were no cars then). Meanwhile he remained a Volunteer Officer in the
Sudan Defence Force.
But he was happy as a school master
and he says, "The job of teaching was rewarding".
In 1935, he wanted to get married
so he worked hard from 4am to 8pm. He then taught and went up to Oxford and
took B.A., and then married and obtained a job as Senior Geography Master
with French as second subject at a Public School where he took an M.A. in
1939.
Oxford:
Recalling
his days at Oxford, he writes, "I believe that academic excellence is
a useless qualification for life. One lives with human beings an only
through a knowledge of human nature and sympathy with other fellows can any
one succeed in life. Of course you must know the theory of your job, but
the practice consists in persuading your subordinates so that it is
worthwhile being a friend to your colleagues and subordinates. At Oxford, I
met people from all over the world and talked with them about every
conceivable thing. So l learnt view-points and opinions and knowledge of
other people. The academic side was secondary".
World War II:
Col.
Coombes was called up in August 1939 as captain in Royal Artillery Regiment
to proceed to France with the advance party of the British Expeditionary
Force. He was later transferred to R.A.F. He was captured at Durkirk and
later escaped to England and remained with the 4th Squadron
till 1941.
In late 1941, he was posted to
command 330 Artillery Battery of 137 Field Regiment to join the 11th Indian
Division in Malaya. His Regiment reached in time to be in the first Indian
battle against the Japanese at Jitra on the Siamese (Thai) border and Capt.
Coombes had his last battery position on the beach at Singapore when this
"Gibraltar of the East" fell to the Japanese on 15th February
1942. He remained prisoner of war till August 1945.
Prisoner of War:
As
a prisoner of war, he has written a book called "Banpong
Express", which is a vivid narrative of the Malayan campaign and of
life as a prisoner of war under the "death shadow" of the
Imperial Japanese Army. This book was written in the prisoner of war camp
at Nangpladuk (Siam). The script was hidden in the lining of one gallon
thermos container, which being in use in the cook house was never detected
by the Japanese.
His regiment fought for 9 weeks and
suffered in a lost cause. Out of the original 700 who came to Malaya, three
Officers (including the C.O.) and 28 men were killed in action and 184 died
the miserable death of prisoner of war. Col. Coombes writes, " Those
of us who remained have experienced the bitterness of defeat and the
humiliation of captivity under conditions as macabre as any in the history
of warfare. We were indeed lucky that the end came when it did. Now we can
live again and hope that out of our experiences we may fashion a philosophy
of life dynamic enough to be effective in a war-weary world. It must not
happen again".
Second Oxford:
When
I asked him recently to give his impressions as a prisoner of war, he
writes, "As guest of the Japanese, I worked as a coolie building
railways, and met Malays, Chinese, French, Americans, Dutch and Indians who
were also coolies. And I talked with them and liked some of them, and had
the equivalent of a second Oxford education. That was the compensation of
my three and a half years in the 'Shadow of Death'."
After the war, the Colonel stayed
as a free man and was then a Lieut. Colonel. He recalls, "I had a
wonderful time in Siam, Burma, Indo-China and Malaya, and learnt to know
and like more of these people and they ways and life".
A Wonderful Job:
He
returned to the U.K. in May 1947 and wanted to become a regular soldier as
gunner. It was turned down due to his age, so he took down his Lt.
Colonel's badges of rank and joined the R.A.E.C. as a Captain on short
service commission.
In 1949, he went to I.S.S.B. and
did the “acrobatic” course on the obstacles and “the rest”. He passed the
test and at last became a regular soldier. He was immediately promoted as
Lieut. Colonel. He was then promoted to the rank of Colonel in 1951 and
appointed as Chief Education Officer, Anti-aircraft Command. As he had been
Lieut. Colonel in Royal Artillery, he knew how a real fighting soldier
lived and his education was based on his needs so he was welcome
everywhere. In 1954, he went to Singapore as Chief Education Officer, Far
East. His province extended from Korea to Hong Kong and Borneo, Malaya to
India and Nepal, and in the South Ceylon, and on the SEATO from Australia,
New Zealand and Philippines.
He was producing daily English
newspapers in Korean, Malay, and Gurkhali in Malaya and Hong Kong. He had
also started British, Gurkhali, and Malay Children’s School. He did a lot
in the fields of Education, Language training and Broadcasting. He recalls
all this work as a “Wonderfully satisfying job”. Thus, he was awarded
C.B.E. for this.
The unkindest cut of all:
He
writes, “Then I killed an Indian. He stepped off the pavement and the sun
was in my eyes. I did not see him, and my car hit him. There was no
witness, but I pleaded guilty. “Merdeka” was in the air. The Malay
authorities wanted a European whipping boy, and I returned to Changi jail
(the same prisoner of war camp where he was kept on 15th February
1942) with six months imprisonment. Thus ended my army career. I was about
to be promoted as Major General. Instead I lost everything”.
Not an ordinary convict
Col.
Coombes returned to the U.K. and saw the Pakistan Government advertisement
in the Times for the position of Principal, Cadet College Mirpurkhas. He
applied and told the Interview Board the truth about why he left the army.
He writes, “I was accepted and came to Pakistan to show the world that
Coombes was not an ordinary convict. I decided to produce a good Cadet
College and set about the task with no preconceived ideas, except to
produce young men who were more concerned with the Code of Honor and being
sympathetic human beings than to obtain First Divisions. I was not
concerned about academic results simply but about ‘Real Men’. I could
afford to be independent and do as I pleased since if they put me in
prison, it would not be the first time.”
Code of Honor
His
eyes brightened when I asked him about the raw stuff from which he wanted
to produce such “Real Men”. He replied, “I like the young Pakistani boys. I
was impressed by the charm of most boys, their affection for their families
and their desire to please. I hope Pakistan will get some outstanding
leaders from Petaro. I believe that the future generation of Pakistan will
stand or fall by their belief in the Code of Honor”.
Referring to his struggle for
having led the College through storms of hope and despair for seven long
years to establish this idea and dream of Petaro into a reality, and the
sands of the Indus banks into an oasis, he says, “I enjoyed fighting all
the time against parents’ objections, the sands of Sindh, the Finance
Department, etc to produce the impossible in the desert. Up to a point, I
am satisfied. It has been exhausting and stimulating, but my successor will
have to fight all the way to keep his head above water, and he will succeed
in as much as he keeps the Team Spirit going through the staff - because
you have to fight the desert all the time. If you relax, it will win.”
Inter Services Schools Sports
Tournament
When
I asked him to comment as to what inspired him with the idea of the Inter
Services Schools Sports Tournament, he seemed so glad to narrate. “This was
the start of an idea” he says. “Boys from the Punjab, East Pakistan, Sindh
should meet and get to know each other, and fight their battles on the
playing fields also. Of course by seeing other schools, one can obtain ideas
from them and compare one’s own system. Petaro held no monopoly over
everything that was good.”
Tremendous Help
Col.
Coombes talked of his 25 years of married life with the joy that only those
who have great capacity for love can understand and appreciate. He has been
a lucky man and his wife was a big part of his achievements. Recalling his
wife, he told me in a rather sentimental tone, “My wife was a tremendous
help. I had an excellent wife who was polyandrous, for she was wedded to my
job as well as to me and she was responsible for keeping me in the right
direction. Moreover, she readily made friends with both seniors and
juniors. This is not always the case. And believe me, a wife can make or
mar her husband’s career.
A Legend
In
his many-sidedness, Col. Coombes became an inspiration to a number of his
pupils. To a host of people around him, he imparted not only the team
spirit but how to live with themselves and with others. No man should be
passive about lie. He should commit himself and should care extensively
about a number of things in life. He lays himself open to the pain of loss,
but it is worth it. Nothing is as empty and meaningless as a life without
action. Colonel was a symbol of what he said.
Major Alam Jan Mahsud (now retired
Lieut. General), who worked with him as his Adjutant has paid glittering
tributes to his memory. He writes, “As for Col. Coombes, all I can say is
that apart from being a good teacher and a tireless administrator, he was a
noble soul indeed. It was indeed a pleasure to work with him. I have seen
very few dedicated persons like him.”
Col. Coombes and Petaro are one and
inseparable. Col. Coombes will live as the legend of Petaro for all times
to come. His life is a lesson that one should practice. And like him, when
one leaves this world as a better place than what he found, then when his
turn comes, he dies happily with the feeling and belief that he has done
his best.
In an ever
changing world where even the skylines of cities are transformed from one
generation to another, only one thing endures, and that is the “Remembrance
of Love”.
The
Colonel's Final Years
By Jeffrey
Griffiths
(Jeffrey Griffiths was
a colleague of Colonel Coombes in London from 1972 onwards, and was
associated with him until his death in 1978)
I
met Colonel Coombes as my work colleague when I took up a post in London in
1972. He was then the Deputy Director of the Southwark Diocesan Board of
Education which looked after Church of England schools in the south of
London.
I
much admired the Colonel for all that he had achieved and experienced
although, in the fast changing London of the 1970s, he had become a man out
of his time. He appeared to me like a living reminder of the British Raj as
I listened to the stories he had to tell. The Colonel worked himself too
hard for a man of his age but his spirit was still strong even if the body
was becoming weakened. He lived in
cheap lodgings in London during the week, arriving at the office at an
early hour and working on till late. Copious cups of tea and cigarettes
sustained him and his favourite cry of "God Save The Queen on a
bicycle!" still rent the office air at intervals. A pint of beer was
taken by him regularly at lunchtime and he would then often snooze at his
desk for a while in the afternoon. Secretaries had problems in interpreting
his minute handwriting, a habit which he ascribed to the time when he’d
kept a secret journal during his time as a Japanese prisoner of war – or
detained as ‘a guest of his Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Japan’ as he
put it.
The
Colonel owned a small Fiat car which he drove furiously and no one wanted
to be his passenger as a result. On the weekends he drove to his home in
Kent, not far from the Channel port of Folkestone, to be with his beloved
second wife Elsie. She was younger than him and her playful teasing was the
perfect foil for Colonel’s more traditional manner. We worked together
until illness forced his retirement in 1975 - in fact; I drove him to
hospital after he suffered a minor stroke at his office desk. I maintained
contact with him until his death in early 1978. I was saddened by how few
people were present at the funeral of this man who had lived such a rich
life. He was cremated near his home in Kent.
Colonel
Coombes - What a Wonderful Man He Was
[This article was published
originally in Urdu in The Cadet magazine of 1978. Translated into
English by Kazi Zulkader Siddiqui, kit no. 671/Latif, and was published in
the book about Col. Coombes in Feb. 2007]
ﺣﻖ ﻣﻐﻔﺮﺕ ﻛﺮﮮ ﻋﺟﺐ ﺁﺯﺍﺩ ﻣﺮﺩ ﺗﻬﺎ
Haqq
maghfirat karay, ajab azaad mard tha
(May the Lord have mercy on him; he
was a unique independent man indeed)
The death of Col. Coombes was no
less than tragic news for those of us who had known him closely. They knew
him as a man who had passed the prime of his age when he joined Cadet
College Petaro as its first Principal after having gone through a very
fulfilling life. Yet they also recognized him as a man who never gets old.
He had indeed become legend for Cadet College Petaro. The two are
inseparable.
He was the one who laid the
foundation stone of Petaro College and saw it grow and blossom stage by
stage. This is why it is almost next to impossible to imagine the
personality of this great man without Petaro. He even named his home in the
UK as “Petaro”. He filled his home with pictures of buildings of Petaro,
never wanting to keep it out of his sight. Prior to his death, he expressed
an intense desire to visit Petaro again in his letters to his dear friends
& students in Pakistan.
The establishment of the first
Cadet College in Sindh happened in exceptional circumstances. The abrupt
decision of government and preference of Primary Teachers’ Training School
building at Mirpurkhas, the selection of initial teaching staff and 30
cadets, the hurried modifications to the existing building of the school
was all a hurried affair. This in itself is a long story. Only those who
participated in this struggle truly know how the difficulties were
surmounted and the impossible was made possible. The building given for the
purpose was merely a barren structure without water and electricity. And
neither was there any office furniture for the staff, nor were there
sleeping beds for the cadets.
On 5th August 1957 when 5 members
of staff stepped onto its premises, it was nothing but a desolate and
dreary place. After great efforts, a few sleeping beds were arranged which
were utilized for every known purpose by the boys - for resting, sitting,
lying down, dining and keeping their meager possessions. There was not a
drop of water to drink, as there were no earthen pots to store the water.
But the spirit and enthusiasm of the staff - teaching and others - was
admirable. Not a single soul cared for his personal convenience or comfort.
Every person jumped into this struggle for survival with the sole ambition
to achieve the ultimate goal irrespective of his place or position. The
untiring efforts of 22 days finally bore fruit. Finally, on 27th of August
1957, the college was ready to ceremoniously welcome the 30 new students.
In the beginning, the young
teachers had no concept of the nature or objectives of a cadet college or
what made it different from other schools. But a mission had been paving
the way and their sincere untiring efforts were the guiding stars. In fact
this small teaching place had become their personal enterprise. The
senior-most amongst the teachers was also temporarily assigned the task of
the acting Principal of the college.
Within a few months, the
developments at the college were so amazing that it became a matter of utmost
surprise for every visitor and parent. Likewise, officers of the British
Council were so appreciative of the college that they offered their
assistance for the appointment of a Principal. This led to the appointment
of a full time Principal in the form of Col. Coombes who joined as head of
Cadet College Mirpurkhas.
Col. Coombes was a man of moderate
height, stocky and very sturdy, with bright eyes and an ever-smiling face.
But probably the most impressive part of his features was his thick
moustache that dominated over his personality.
I remember my very first meeting
with him, which was more of a disappointment. My initial impression was
that this man’s educational skills were very superficial. During this
meeting, the key point that he tried to impress upon us was a display of
his knowledge of Arabic language. God alone knows who had given him the
impression that his Arabic language skills were superlative. Or maybe he
was under this mistaken notion since he had served in Sudan for some time.
Therefore he presumed that he was quite an expert in Arabic. During our
first conversation, he would ask each one of us teachers about something to
do with Arabic. Turning towards me, he asked “What is the plural of
Coombes?” At this sudden inquiry, I was rather nonplussed. Smiling over my
confusion, he exclaimed “Camabeez” and burst out laughing over his
victory. This was his peculiar trait - a game of trick followed by a loud
laugh.
Very soon during the initial days,
we started to experience his style of management. We realized that he
preferred not to interfere in our work in any way. He would observe and
analyze us from a distance, would unobtrusively weigh our strengths and
weaknesses; and then he would try to comprehend us and form an opinion on
concerned matters. But when he would come to a firm conclusion, he would
take the matter into his own hands and pass a decision accordingly. His
power of comprehension was truly amazing - rather awe-inspiring. The manner
in which he understood the Pakistanis and the Pakistan government
bureaucracy and its ways tells us a lot about this man. Under normal
circumstances, any newcomer to this country would face great difficulties.
Rather, one can easily assume that it would be an almost impossibility to
deal with the local ways and the local bureaucratic red-tape. The Colonel
mastered it and overcame it.
To say he was hard-working would be
an understatement. Besides, he was a master at crisis management. He would
stay calm regardless of the extent or gravity of a crisis situation. He
could never sit idle. Therefore Prof. Shaida Azim gave him the
nickname of “the restless soul”. Driving fast was his hobby. Thus, travel
to Karachi, Hyderabad, and Mirpurkhas was like going next door. This racing
habit of his would be a constant source of minor accidents and jokes about
the Colonel.
The college was in constant need of
supplies for the mess and other daily use items. These were normally
out-sourced. The late Mr. Hazir was a well known contractor of supplies for
the college for many years. Mr. Hazir was indeed Colonel Sahib’s find. He
discovered him in Karachi. On one occasion, the Colonel was driving Hazir
Sahib from Karachi to Mirpurkhas in his car. As the Colonel drove, Hazir
Sahib asked him to stop the car midway. Disembarking from the car, he said,
“Colonel Sahib a few days remain of my life. I cannot sacrifice it for the
sake of a contract”.
Our stay in Mirpurkhas was
temporary. One of the buildings had been converted into a hostel, and with
great difficulty we were able to accommodate the first 30 cadets. This
small place could not accommodate more boys. When 33 new boys we admitted
the following year, accommodation became a serious issue. We were forced to
shift. Now a new site was needed. Many places were suggested for a
permanent place, such as Tandojam, Bulari, Petaro and even Mirpurkhas. When
the teachers’ opinion was sought, they approved of all suggestions except
for Petaro, which they had never heard of. It was our desire that the
Colonel would either opt to keep us in Mirpurkhas or move to Tandojam.
Riding over all opinion, Col. Coombes chose Petaro as the ultimate site for
the college. None of us had ever seen the place. Colonel Sahib would visit
this new place every day and narrate to us updated reports of progress and
development. We were all quite satisfied that since the Colonel had chosen
the place, it must have many virtues. It was beyond our imagination that a
Londoner could choose a barren, desolate place.
Then one day all of us teachers and
students finally got a chance to see Petaro. All the way to Jamshoro, we
were all very happy. But as the bus got off the main road after Jamshoro
and meandered towards Petaro on an uninhabited, quiet and deserted road, we
started feeling a bit uneasy and restless. The road seemed unending - so
deserted and dry - that our anxiety found no bounds. By the time we reached
the Petaro railway crossing, we were utterly dismayed.
We had the shock of lives - no
villages, no people, no trees, and no greenery. There was only a
railway track accompanying us next to the road. As our bus crossed the
railway track, Colonel Sahib’s face was beaming with joy. Turning towards
us, he declared “Only two miles more”. As we traversed those two miles, we
found ourselves standing amidst buildings that were in ruin. Everywhere we
looked, all we found were walls standing with no roof or there was debris
and nothing else. We were told these were hangars constructed during the
Second World War. Our hopes were dashed. For most of us this place was more
desolate than what we had ever imagined it to be. This seemed to be a
day of remorse for us. Neither the disheartened looks on the faces of the
boys nor the disappointment expressed by the teachers seemed to have any
effect on Colonel Sahib. He was more than satisfied with his decision.
During the following summer
holidays (1959) we moved to Petaro. At that point in time, the total number
of constructed buildings was only three houses. As we arrived, heavy rains
started, flooding the entire area. The floods caused such havoc that the
roads to Hyderabad were blocked and the trains were suspended. Only one
shuttle train used to be available in 24 hours.
Colonel Sahib had a marvelous
quality that whatever he wanted to achieve, he would put in his best effort
and make it happen. And through his untiring efforts, he would make it easy
for others. Thus he would generate a passion amongst his staff members to
join in the effort. He would make it a point to appreciate the work done by
others in proportion to their efforts - neither more nor less. He had an
uncanny method of estimating the worth of the workers and could judge their
willingness in work very well. He would easily erupt into rage, but the
word “sorry” would immediately mellow him and cool down his temper. Then
his face would be worth seeing. Colonel Sahib would lower his gaze and
would seem to be remorseful, as if the fault was his.
Those were hard times. The staff
and boys were dedicated to put their best foot forward and to succeed in
making Petaro a success. Regardless of whether there were dunes of sand or
rock strewn roads, Col. Coombes’ car would reach that remote area. There
was only one hostel completely constructed at that time, namely Jinnah
House. The other hostel building, i.e. Liaquat House was under
construction. The House Master used to live in one of the rooms of the
hostel. There were no play grounds. It is not possible to play either
football or hockey on sandy land; and cricket was out of the question.
Regardless, Colonel Sahib would make it a point to participate in games
regularly. He would himself play hockey as well. It is impossible to forget
his bright red vest, his vintage hockey stick, a large towel on his shoulders
and his stocky running style. We could never control our laughter as we
cheered him on. Regardless of our light-heartedness, he would be so
engrossed in the game as if it were a World Cup tournament match. He would
respond to our laughter with his unforgettable guffaws. In reality, he
would act like a child on the playing field.
I can well imagine those events in
the back of my eye to this very day. The college team would be playing and
he would be busy making the most noise. Being fidgety as he was, he would
move his position constantly and his noisiness would increase in favor of
the team that would be losing. He would look at us with his hawkish eyes
and move his position as if he were rallying us to force us to join him in
his agitation. He would sit there as long as the match would last, and
would heckle and argue with the people around him. Often he would place a
bet, which he lost mostly. I have never seen him win a bet. Whether the
match would be at Hasan Abdal or at Petaro, his “Buck up Petaro” could be
heard from afar. The Colonel was rather non-musical in his shouts - neither
rhythm nor rhyme. Thus when he would utter and extend the last syllable of
“oooo” of the word “Petaro”, it would be rather jarring for the ears. Our
faces would turn red when teachers of other colleges would smile at this
obvious aberration. But his absolute love for Petaro was such that it would
cause him to do anything.
Some of his decisions were highly
“Coombish” (if I may be permitted to coin this word). Only God knows
whether his decisions were made in all seriousness or were in jest. When
the person in charge of hockey protested that hockey could not be played on
sand, he issued orders to play the game on the runway of the old airfield
next to the college. He personally proceeded to the airfield stating that
this is the ideal place to play hockey. But the person in charge of hockey
did not take the team to the airfield the next day, he did not insist.
Likewise, he was very fond of
tennis. He was able to coax the teachers to play tennis. He would himself
play the game and would encourage others. The interesting part is that he
did not appoint pickers on the plea that playing means exercise; and in the
absence of pickers, the players take double advantage of exercise.
A similar decision was to send the
cadets daily to Liaquat Medical College Jamshoro (around 10 miles away) for
swimming under supervision of a Duty Master. All of us vehemently opposed
this decision. He agitated against our opposition for many days; however he
would always respect and accept what the majority point of view and
unanimous decisions. Regardless of how upset or angry he would be, he would
not change the decision unilaterally.
Once somebody suggested in jest
that Thana Bula Khan is not as hot a place, and would be more suitable for
preparations of annual examinations. A team was formed and sent to Thana
Bula Khan for survey. I was a part of that team. When we reported back that
there was no proper accommodation available there for the cadets to stay,
he was disappointed.
He loved Petaro to the point of
madness. He considered himself to be the ruler over Petaro; or rather he
treated Petaro as if it were his own estate – a jageer. It was his
utmost desire to live here and die here. Once at a feast hosted by a local
landlord, he jokingly said “Sain, I would like to work as a gardener
(mali) in your garden after my retirement”. The poor man was a
rather perturbed at this statement taking it seriously, and remarked “we
are poor people here and we live under your protection”.
Col. Coombes practiced punctuality
as if it were a malady. He was always punctual and forced others to be the
same. He was so particular that if a team arrived late, he would cancel the
match. If a movie would start late, he would get up and leave. In case
anyone arrived late, he would leave him behind and move on. Knowing his
habit, we also emulated him when once he was the defaulter. We did the same
to him that he would to others. He felt embarrassed but remained silent.
One such incident occurred at the
commemoration of Seerat ul Nabi. He was late. We waited 5 minutes
for him and started the proceedings. He arrived 10 minutes later, and sat
on a back bench. After the function was over, we found his letter of
apology waiting for us when we reached our homes.
The college was finally taking
shape. With the passage of time, different facilities were built - houses
for teachers, various buildings, playing fields, roads, etc. The residents
of Petaro were facing lesser difficulties by the day. Regular daily
routine, teaching programs and other activities were established. When he
saw that routine is in proper, Colonel Sahib started to explore new avenues
of activities. He visited Lahore, Jhelum, Hasan Abdal, Sargodha and
developed relations with similar colleges in those places. This led to the
establishment of ISSST (Inter
Services Schools Sports Tournament). With a contingent of 25 cadets, he
proceeded to Cadet College Hasan Abdal, the venue of the first tournament.
Our team’s performance was not up to the mark. Our boys were quite young
and inexperienced. Besides it was the month of December and the cold
weather had set in - something which our boys were not used to. Our new
teams could not rival the mature & trained cadets of Jhelum and Hasan
Abdal, although they competed well. Despite the fact that ours was the
third position, Colonel Sahib was still satisfied by the performance of our
teams. He was already planning and strategizing for the future. The process
had started, and the games were held in future years at Bahawalpur, Lahore,
Jhelum and Hasan Abdal. The relationship that was built with these colleges
benefited Petaro tremendously. We learnt a lot from these institutions and
our relations with them continue to this day. Finally, we attained the
standard and heights in sports with the result that Petaro remained the
winner continuously for four years. The ISSST trophy
remained permanently with Petaro, although Col. Coombes did not remain
behind to see the day. He must be given the credit of being the pioneer and
for laying the foundations for later successes. Colonel Sahib was in
London, from where he would eagerly await the results of the annual
tournament and would send congratulatory messages upon hearing of Petaro’s
successes.
At times Colonel Sahib would
display some very unique characteristics. Due to shortage of water
resources, he kept a keen eye on how it was utilized. He would even impose
fines on people who wasted water. In case a mali would
make such a mistake, he would impose the fine on himself. Once as he
stepped out of his own house, he saw water flowing from a tap on the lawn
of the house in front of his own. As he marched towards that house to
challenge the perpetrator, he happened to glance at his own lawn. Water was
flowing from a hose pipe on his lawn. He immediately turned back and shut
off the valve of the tap on his own lawn. It was now the turn of the other
lawn. But as he went in that direction, the owner of that house had also
shut off his valves. He was taken aback as he was unable to extract the
fine.
Another great characteristic of
Colonel Sahib was that whenever he delegated an assignment or authority to
anybody, he would not interfere again in his work. He would only be
concerned with the results. He would observe his actions minutely but would
not interfere until the task would be completed. In case the result was
good, he would extend his appreciation profusely. He maintained personal
relations with every member of the staff. These close relations with his
staff members continued even after he left for London. He would respond to
every single letter he received from Pakistan. If a teacher, cadet or
friend would go to London, he would invite him to his residence, arrange
dinner for him and entertain him. In case he was unable to entertain him at
home, he would take him out to a restaurant in London. Col. Muhammad Khan
has narrated this hospitality in detail in his interesting travelogue “ba-salamat
rawi”.
Col. Coombes loved to eat and drink.
Whether it was consumption of water, tea or anything else, he exceeded the
limits of prudence. This may have been a weakness on his part. Likewise,
when anyone would invite him for dinner, he would gladly accept and would
show extreme delight at this gesture. Some people would try to take
advantage of this attitude of his. By temperament, he truly belonged to the
Victorian Age. His value base reflected this very much - the same manners,
same classical ways of life, and the same zest for work. He was convinced
that the English people are best for teaching of English language.
Therefore, he appointed number of teachers from England. He had considered
them to be the ideal teachers and would set an example for the Pakistani
teachers so that they may emulate them. What he seemed to have overlooked
was that rather than being in his ideal Victorian Age, we in fact now
belong to the latter part of the twentieth century. The English teachers
arrived from England. However their performance was no better than the Pakistani
teachers. They were as active and as lethargic as the Pakistani teachers.
They were more concerned with their own demands and compensation. Although
he was not quite satisfied with their performance, he still had a soft
corner for them. This led to a level of resentment amongst the Pakistani
teachers. Many years later when he visited Petaro after retirement, he
openly acknowledged that the English staff were keener on their personal
compensation and were not as efficient as they should have been.
He was an extremely keen observer
of the capabilities of his subordinates and knew how to gauge people. His
selection of a man for a job would yield the appropriate results. His
relationship with some people was extremely warm, while others were not as
close. In fact his relations with many others were rather nominal. But when
it came to his evaluation of their work, relationships would be set aside,
and he would always base his final judgment on merit. There was no room for
personal likes and dislikes. Certain persons who had high expectations due
to their relation with him, found themselves frustrated when the expected
reward in proportion to their relations did not materialize. In fact it
came as a rude shock and a disappointment.
Col. Sahib had a mania for learning
Urdu and Sindhi words. He would repeat a word he learnt several times in
order to make it a part of his permanent vocabulary. He would always use
the phrase “my hukm” instead of “my order”. Perhaps “hukm” is
more forceful than “order”. He would always say dhobi rather than “washer
man”. One of his pet sentences in Urdu was “Petaro din dooni, raat
chowgni taraqqi karayga”. He would write this sentence down on paper
again and again as if it’s writing it down would ensure its happening.
However, he would normally fail in his spoken utterances. On Parents’ Day
he wanted to read a Persian couplet, in which the word “maa’il” was
used. Despite repeated practice sessions, he could not pronounce it
properly. I pointed out to him the pronunciation of this word is similar to
the English word “mile” and he should speak it out as if he were saying the
word “mile”. He appreciated my point. But while delivering his speech, he
again failed to pronounce the word correctly. Likewise, he would make great
efforts in trying to learn Sindhi pronunciation, but when he would read it
out, no one would understand him. I guess he has truly proven the point
that the English have little competence for learning foreign languages.
It was Colonel Sahib’s dream to
make Petaro the biggest Cadet College in Pakistan. Every year he would
increase the number of students as much as he possibly could. Rightly
or wrongly he felt a pride at his actions. He had hoped to stay here for 10
years more, but when the tenure of his contract ended, and against his
hopes no extension was granted, he became very dejected. He would sit alone
on his lawn lost in thoughts. His domestic servants saw him in tears at
times in this state of depression. During one of his farewell speeches, he
became very emotional. His face had turned pale, when he returned to his
bungalow, he wept bitterly. He would weep like children do.
The day he was leaving, he looked
so extremely depressed. His luggage was loaded into the car trunk. He
smiled courageously. But behind the curtain of that smile, one could see
his sadness - a man extremely depressed and broken hearted. His nerves were
beyond his control. There was nothing to do but he displayed a sense of
alertness and action. All of us could feel that internal pain as much as he
did.
It was now
time to depart. We shook hands and he took his seat in his car. He could
not hold his tears back. Neither could we hold back our grief. At that
moment, every person there felt like a lost man. It was impossible to
control our tears as we bid him adieu. The car moved, kerchiefs were waved
and gradually his car disappeared in to the distance and beyond the
horizon, leaving Petaro behind.
Col.
Coombes the Great
By Muhammad Kaleemullah, (who served as
the first Admin Officer, Cadet College Petaro from 1957 until his
retirement in 1994)
[originally printed in The Cadet
magazine 1978, and then reprinted in the book on Col. Coombes in Feb. 2007]
“Mighty of heart, mighty of mind,
magnanimous - to be this is truly great”, said Ruskin. Col.
Coombes has undoubtedly a great heart, a great mind, and generous he indeed
was - even to a fault.
It is for the great to measure his
greatness or to point out those sides of his character where he was just an
ordinary human being. A humble man like me can only be full of admiration
for him.
Col. Coombes, CBE, ERD, MA (Oxon)
arrived on the scene when the Cadet College was an infant, barely six
months old. We were housed in a borrowed building at Mirpurkhas with a
handful of cadets, and herded together by the heroic efforts of Mr. A.M.
Nizamani, the then Director of Education of Hyderabad Region. The hope that
this small school would ever grow up to be one of the premier institutions
of the country seemed to be no more than an impossible dream in those
difficult days.
From the first day, Col. Coombes
started formulating his ambitious plans to shape this little school into a
great Cadet College. The obstacles to be surmounted were enormous but the
Colonel was made of no ordinary stuff. It was his great determination and
extraordinary energy that allowed him to bull-doze all obstacles that lay
in his way. He worked so hard and so inspiringly that the entire staff from
the humblest to the highest left no stone unturned to give the new
institution a rally firm and solid foundation. The result was that within a
period of seven years, he succeeded in establishing a first-rate Cadet
College at Petaro on a rocky plain. It was the magic of his enthusiasm and
magnetism of his personality that transformed it into a veritable oasis.
When the time came for the Colonel
to say goodbye to the institution to which he had given his heart and soul
and which he had nursed with his life-blood, the brave soldier of the
British Army - who had seen much action during the Second World War and had
even been a prisoner of war with the Japanese - wept like a forlorn child.
And he had so endeared himself to all his staff and cadets that there was
not an eye in Petaro that did not shed tears at his departure.
Col. Coombes’ love for his foster
child was so abiding and unabated that when he found himself a home in
England to spend the twilight years of his life, he called his house
“PETARO”. His greatest pleasure at “Petaro” in England was to entertain
guests from Pakistan and his joy knew no bounds if they happened to be
Petarians.
Col. Coombes visited Petaro again
in 1971. He arrived with the new Mrs. Coombes - his good Old Lady having
died in England while he was still Principal at Petaro. He was given a
tumultuous welcome by one and all and his happiness at being once again at
his beloved Petaro was unbounded indeed. Pointing towards his charming wife
Elsie, he said: “She got only half my heart. The other half is here”.
I would now like to say a few words
about Col. Coombes’ extraordinary and lovable character.
The Colonel was extremely fond of
entertaining guests. Dinners at his bungalow were an almost every day
affair. After dinner sessions at this place and the entertaining
conversation interspersed with jokes and riddles used to be a real treat
for those who enjoyed his lavish hospitality. Col. Coombes himself was a
good trencherman and a very fast eater. He would finish the hottest soup in
no time and consume fast quantities of food with great relish.
Col. Coombes was a hardworking man
and a hart task master, but his jokes and good humour often relieved the
vigour of long endless hours of work. He had a smattering of Arabic and
once asked Mr. Faruqui to tell him the
plural of Coombes. Mr. Faruqui was perplexed.
The Colonel laughed at his discomfiture and said, “The plural of Coombes
is Camabeez.”
One Mr. Bukhari rang up Col.
Coombes and asked him to inform Sqn. Ldr. Shaikh that he was
coming to see him. The Colonel promptly wrote a chit to Sqn. Ldr. Shaikhthat “Mrs.
Fever” was on her way to see him. *
Col. Coombes was witty. He could
nonplus the most eloquent speaker by a gentle stroke of wit. Once he went
to see the Registrar of the Sindh University. The Registrar, who had a
weakness for rhetoric, stated a learned discourse on education in honour of
the distinguished visitor. The Colonel listened in amazed and amused
silence until the scholar said with great emphasis, “Poison cannot be sugar
just as sugar cannot be poison”. The Colonel remarked gently, “It
can”. “How?” asked the master of elocution. “For the diabetic”
retorted the Colonel and left the rhetorician dumb-founded.
Col. Coombes had some Johnsonian
qualities in him. He was exceedingly fond of tea and like Johnson he did
not count by the teacups but by teapots. He also drank jugs full of lemon
juice. The result of taking so much liquid was that he sweated profusely
all day and had to carry a towel with him to keep wiping of the
perspiration.
The Colonel was always in a “frantic
hurry”. Letters he wrote had the subscript in “frantic hurry”.
He drove his car in a “frantic hurry”, and he got off the train in a
“frantic hurry”. Mr. Bhatti, the station
master of Petaro in the Colonel’s days was always afraid of the Colonel
going under the wheels while trying to jump on to the platform from a
moving train.
One early morning, he went on a
trial drive with an applicant for a motor vehicle driver’s job. He made the
driver accelerate the vehicle so much around a “bund” that it
overturned and both the Colonel and the driver were trapped underneath it.
They were fortunate to be extricated by the occupants of a rare bus on that
unfrequented road. Luckily, both escaped with minor injuries although the
microbus was ruined. The Colonel was soon back in his office with a few
cuts here and there. Mr. Abdullah Khadim Hussain went to express
his sympathies and said, “I am very sorry to hear about that unfortunate
accident”. “Well”, said the Colonel, “What is unfortunate about that?
I am still alive”.
Col. Coombes was fond of quoting
from Shah Abdul Latif and Dr. Muhammad Iqbal in his speeches. He knew
neither Sindhi no Urdu nor Persian, but learnt the verses by heart and his
recital was quite amusing. He knew one Urdu phrase “Din duni, raat
chowgni tarraqqi karega”. He used it in season and out of season, but
he meant it with all his heart when he employed it for Petaro.
One of his Pakistani friends
admonished him in a letter to take care of his health. The Colonel wrote
back to him, “Don’t you worry. After the first heart attack, the doctor
permitted me to smoke any number of cigarettes and to have one small gin
for lunch and a large whiskey for dinner”. Such was his good humor even
on his death bed.
One would almost lay a wager that
the last words on his dying lips of that gallant lover of Petaro would have
been “Petaro din duni raat chowgni taraqqi karega”.
Notes:
* “bukhar”
in Urdu means “fever”, and a masculine word can be turned into its feminine
counterpart by adding a suffix of “i”. Thus, the Colonel jokingly
translated “Bukhari” as Mrs. Fever.
Our
Colonel
By
Niaz Ahmed, kit no. 141/Liaquat
Originally printed in The Cadet
magazine of 1961 and 1978, and reprinted in the book on Col. Coombes in Feb
2007.]
Our Colonel is a jolly man,
Come and see him if you can
He works and sings from morn till
night,
No lark is happier than he.
He envies nobody, no not he,
And nobody envies him.
He loves his cadets,
He loves his friends,
He loves to air his knowledge.
To become like him is Petaro’s
boast.
Oh Colonel of our College!
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