And the Walls Came Tumbling Down by John Chromy (India 3)

Read the story And the Walls Came Tumbling Down by John Chromy (India 3) in Peace Corps Worldwide.

Fire in the Huts by John Chromy (India 3)

Read the story Fire in the Huts by John Chromy (India 3) in Peace Corps Worldwide.

Documentary: Bombay Dabbawalas - 'Small People, Great Work'

'The Bombay Dabbawalas - 'Small People, Great Work' is a documentary that will bring back a million memories of all that is India for RPCVs. - John Chromy, India 3

Oral History from Leonard (Lenny) Robinson, Diplomat and India RPCV

Oral History from Leonard (Lenny) Robinson, an India RPCV who served in Bihar, worked on Peace Corps staff and had a later career in the United States Foreign Service.

Recording of Ode To Phil Holland (India 84) by Rich Cohen

Please enjoy this recording of Ode To Phil Holland, words and music by Rich Cohen. This song was written by Rich for his friend Phil Holland, one of the volunteers in his group (India 84), who died while in Peace Corps service in the village in Rajasthan. 

Lyrics to Ode To Phil Holland (India 84)

Words and Music by Rich Cohen

Here’s a song ‘bout Phil Holland

He was a friend of mine.

Joined the American Peace Corps

Back in nineteen sixty-nine.

Went to work for peace they said

Innocent, left a home and a bed

Cared about other people instead

And then he ended up dead.

Chorus:

Why do the best of us have to die so young?

Phil left this world before his work was done.

There ain’t no palace in the sky big enough for him.

May the memory of his sacrifice never dim.

Met ol’ Phil in Washington

Went down there a bit mystified.

Tests taken, the shrinks pacified

Depart on Pan Am a 24-hour ride.

Touch down, in an early June morning

Stumbled off the plane bleary eyed.

A stray dog greeted us tail a-wagging

Hot sun blazing, we’re already sagging.

Chorus

Packed out of Delhi for Rajasthan

Long train ride through the night.

Desert vistas an’ wind swept scenes

What’s that story about the Peace Corps dream?

Udaipur morning found us tired,

Packed bags an’ bodies in open trucks.

A climbing hot sun spoiled our fun,

Could we know Phil was the one?

Chorus

College grads were we now farmers,

Closely watched by Peace Corps informers.

Wondering if the draft we evaded,

Some sent back, their hopes faded.

Training over, sent to our posts,

Village life bare essentials,

Be first white man some had seen,

A few more quit, not so keen.

Chorus

Struggled to be credible

Promoting seeds of high yield wheat.

Most farmers thought me crazy,

The harvest came, what a treat.

The day arrived, heard Phil was sick,

Laid low in his village bed.

Fever gripped him night and day,

Slipped into a coma they said.

Chorus

U.S. Ambassador sent his ‘copter stat

Fingers crossed, we prayed we sat.

The odds were long, fever was strong,

The end came quick, Phil was gone.

Here’s a song ‘bout Phil Holland.

He was a friend of mine.

Joined the American Peace Corps,

Back in nineteen sixty-nine.