He was known as the angel with the bushy beard. Angel? Not to look at and certainly not like one of Margaret Tarrant’s sylph-like illustrations in the Book of Common Prayer given to me at Christmas 1949. He was Major Dudley John Gardiner, Indian Army retired. Having served as a senior quartermaster during the Second World War, he decided to settle in Calcutta.
Dudley had witnessed the horrors of the 1944 Bengal famine, an unfortunate stain on British administration in the latter days of the Raj, when Imperial resources stretched to the limit had failed the teeming millions.
With the Japanese threatening Burma and eastern India, Dudley would not have condemned the government, but once the enemy was defeated, he was determined to play his part in bringing relief to those suffering from malnutrition in the former capital of British India.
By the time I was posted there in 1972, Dudley was already feeding the five thousand – and many more – daily. I first learnt of him from the outward-going Salvation Army brigadier in charge of the Calcutta citadel and its relief centre. Over my long life I have come to know how the ‘Sally’ Army never rejects a volunteer, nor turns away the genuine article seeking shelter. Still in my late twenties at the time, I would not have seen it quite like that, but something prompted me to go and look for myself.
A large ‘go-down’ (storage facility) had been given over to the retired quartermaster so that, under the Army’s umbrella, he could set up and run a massive soup kitchen. On my first visit, I found Dudley – a giant of a man – dressed all in white. His short-sleeved shirt revealed powerful brawny arms which stirred the huge cauldrons; ballooning trousers could not hide his swollen legs and sandaled feet, a symptom of elephantiasis caused by a worm infection. His rig was completed by a white forage cap and butcher’s apron speckled by splashes from his cooking.
Behind the cauldrons were stacks of donated grains, lentils and other pulses which he and his assistants poured into the nourishing and steaming brew being prepared for a midday distribution. Those who wished to be fed, however, had to sign on for a ticket; it was all very orderly, as one might expect from an old quartermaster. As an Army corporal with a broad Scottish brogue once said to me during a visit to BAOR: “if yer nay any coupon, yer nay get yer grub!”
Dudley was British through and through. He was born in 1916 and baptized into the Anglican faith at St Mary, the Virgin, in Twickenham. It is often forgotten that General Booth was an ordained Anglican priest before he founded the Army in the East End. Dudley was not himself a Salvationist; I doubt whether he would have called himself anything. When I asked him if he missed England, he replied: “No, Tony. I’ve got no one there. All the family I have is here.” Then, he reflected for a moment and went on: “Well yes, I do miss a pint of good old English beer.” As it happened, Christmas was just round the corner; so I was able to deliver a case of lager from my store imported under diplomatic privilege from Singapore. The cans were adorned with luscious lovelies, but this would not have disturbed Dudley as he guzzled.
Sometime later, it was with great pleasure that we heard Dudley had been awarded the MBE (what he affectionately termed “my bloody effort”) for his humanity. I will always remember attending his investiture. Clearly, he could not fly back to “Buck” House. Instead, the High Commissioner in Delhi came down to Calcutta and visited the soup kitchen. While Dudley stood stiffly to attention in his full white outfit, Lady Walker had to stretch up to pin the honour onto his broad proud chest covered by a freshly laundered apron.
Dudley died in 1981. Shortly before, he had published an autobiographical memoir in paperback with his imposing figure on the front cover. All who had known of him in Calcutta would have appreciated the title – “Angel with Bushy Beard”. Every bit as much an angel as his contemporary in the city, Mother Theresa, Dudley had done what Christ had commanded. How would he have responded to Gaza? My guess is he would have stood to, but you would have had to stand in line with your ticket ready.
