This is marginally on-topic…

J Boyle asked about on-base drinking/eating setups in the UK. I can’t help with UK bases, but 159 Sqn (Liberators) at Salbani, then nearby Digri, both in West Bengal, India (WNW of Calcutta) are probably typical of any RAF station far from home. Officers were separated from others, there was a Sergeants Mess, and there must have been a spot or spots for others.

The main differences from back in the UK are: 1) no women, 2) most of the rockgut alcohol was more dangerous than the Japanese, and 3) the local villages were dirt poor, with no such amenities such as pubs.

From wireless operator/air gunner Bill Kirkness’ memoir, dating to 1943 at Salbani:

Nights were spent in the Sergeants’ Mess, which had been made attractive by the members and resembled the interior of an old English pub. Bar stools were the stout cardboard containers in which the bomb fins were delivered. Apart from the bar with its somewhat bizarre range of drinks, the only other amenities were a shove halfpenny board, a dart board but no darts, and a portable gramophone with one record, an old twelve inch of the Nutcracker suite which usually created howls of derision whenever anyone dared to put it on the turntable. Gramophone needles were no problem, as thorns from the bushes nearby served perfectly.

Here are three poor-quality photos of the 159 Sqn Sgts Mess from Christmas 1942, at Salbani. Over time the place was modified and a record library grew. Pianos were found, as well — it was an essential instrument in those days. You can see a gramophone to the right of the chairs in the first photo:

And here are two photos of the Officers Mess, probably at Digri, after 159 moved there from Salbani (less than 15 miles away) in late 1943. Again, the quality of the photos is marginal. W/Cdr John P. “Hoppy” Hopkins — 159’s C.O. from approx. Dec. 1943 to July 1944 — is closest to the camera in the left-hand photo, below. We’re talking rural India, a long way from real civilization, so things are still primitive — but the officers are separated from the others:

Don Lomas, a F/Sgt wireless operator/air gunner, played a mean piano. He was sometimes invited to play the piano in the Officers Mess, where he was paid in alcohol. His diary records a few hungover days following such musical evenings. Don had this to say about those times:

We couldn’t afford to drink such a lot; a flight sergeant’s pay wasn’t very much, but when I played piano, the others bought me drinks. Even in the Officers Mess. I didn’t go there so often, but when they had a bit of a bash, as we used to call it, in the Officers Mess, another chap and I used to play. I had an accordion with me, and I’ve forgotten his name now, but he could play the accordion.

And so he used to take that, play the accordion, and I would play the piano. A combination. We used to sing ordinary popular songs, and air force versions of songs, as well. Good fun. Yes, it was a great thing, really. There was so little to do.

An excerpt from his Feb 1944 diary (shortly before he was shot down on the 29th…he survived a dreadful ordeal in Rangoon Jail) records a night playing in the Officers Mess, and the results the following day:

Finally, here’s Don in 1996 — still a popular piano player in his area (Mytholmroyd and Hebden Bridge, W. Yorks). This is at his home: