Sacrifice, Captivity and Escape, page 20
I don’t know how much Steve sold it for, or who to. He asked me if I wanted money or goods for my work. I said that I preferred goods and so I had several different tins of food delivered. A tin of corned beef was a prize and not something to be scoffed in one go. I made it last for three or four meals by mixing it with rice rations. This made it more tasty and possibly more nourishing.
I did another two batches of tobacco for Steve, plus one other tedious job making cigarette papers. After all, it’s not much good selling tobacco without the papers to roll it in. Steve taught me how the tissue paper was made. First you needed some good quality paper, usually found in art books or technical manuals or, better still, from old bibles. Take a leaf from the book and carefully cut diagonally across the corner of the page about half-an-inch in and not right through the paper. Fold the corner over and, if the paper is the right texture, it is possible to carefully peel the page apart and finish up with two pieces of tissue-thin paper. This does require a lot of patience, but in a prison camp one has time. Finally you cut the paper into cigarette paper-sized pieces and make them up into bundles of a convenient number to sell or trade.
Paper of any kind was a valuable commodity; even newspaper was treasured, not for its reading value as most of it was written in Japanese, but for other purposes. Steve had given me a pencil to write down the numbers of papers I had done. In the book he had given me to cannibalize I found two or three sheets of unprinted paper which I kept for my own use.
I have always been fond of drawing and one afternoon I got out the postcard of the Wanganella and decided to draw a slightly larger copy of it. A couple of other inmates wanted to know what I was drawing. I must have made a fair copy of it as my mates were quite impressed. One of them was an Australian and wanted to show it around to his friends. The Wanganella was as well-known to the Australians as the Queen Mary was to us Brits. In peacetime it did the trans-Tasman journey and during the war became a hospital ship.
My drawings of the ship were popular as I sold, swapped or traded several of them for small articles. I swapped one drawing of the huts for an Indonesian bible. None of us could read it so I had no hesitation in cutting it up for cigarette paper. Steve was always ready to take any cigarette papers off me as he had a ready sale for most things produced in the camp.
Perhaps I have made all these things sound too easy. Anything we did had to be done with great caution as the Japanese often came through and either destroyed or requisitioned anything that displeased them. This applied, particularly, to drawings of the camp. However, by taking the risk of doing the few odd jobs I have mentioned, it helped me get a few extras that I needed. Also I was able to hold onto the small amount of money that I had got for the sale of my ring. I suppose, indirectly, wee Scots Margaret had helped to at least make things a little better for me in the prison camp. She may even have saved my life.
One of the men I had become friendly with was a churchgoer and he had encouraged me to go with him. There was no actual church as such but each denomination had made an attempt to build some place of worship. They ranged from a screened area with sackcloth to a purpose-built hut complete with altar. The church I attended was Church of England and consisted of an open-fronted thatched hut. There was an altar and a crucifix, and some wooden candle holders with artificial candles. It was all quite tastefully done. I was quite impressed and told the padre how much I admired it, saying that I would like to do a drawing of it.
I drew the church on the lid of a white box that Steve had given me. The padre asked me if he could have it. Of course I couldn’t refuse and so handed it over. I did another one for myself but somehow it wasn’t as good as the first one and I was rather disappointed with it.
I had been out of Outram Road for about five months and had more or less forgotten about it. I hadn’t seen Steve for quite some time and took it for granted that he had other fish to fry, until one afternoon he came to the hut and said, ‘Don’t argue, just grab all your gear and come with me.’ I knew by the urgency in his voice that something serious was going on. He took me into Changi grounds, leaving me with a group of his friends who lived in the buildings and telling me to stay with them. Someone, probably an officer, had got a secret radio and the Japs had heard of it. They were going through the camp with a fine-toothed comb, questioning everyone and searching all their belongings. There was always some person who thought he was doing an heroic deed by using a secret radio. But it was a stupid thing to do because it not only jeopardized their own safety, or even their life, but affected all those in the camp.
The Japs systematically searched each hut, destroying belongings and, in many cases, beating men to try and make them tell where the radio was hidden. If the radio was found, the man who operated it was punished, usually very severely. The trouble was though that a lot of innocent people were made to suffer unnecessarily before the offender was caught. On the other hand, if the Japs did not find the radio, it was not unknown for a whole camp to be put on even shorter rations than the usual meagre allowance. In many cases, men were tortured if the Japs suspected them of knowing anything about it.
No-one wanted me to get tangled up in a radio search. I was a prisoner from Outram Road gaol and should have been returned there when I was well again. Had the Japs discovered who I was, there would have been bad consequences for many people. As it happened, the Japs had apparently given up the search before they got to the hut where I had been living. Whether they found the radio or not I never found out; I doubt if one even existed. However, it was best to stay with my friends in Changi Prison until the heat was off.
After this episode I thought it prudent not to do any more drawings or participate in any activities that would draw attention to myself. This meant that there was no way I could earn anything, either in the way of goods or money, so I was on the verge of starvation. What little I had been able to buy before had only been enough to tickle my taste buds. The days drifted by and I lost all sense of time; days and nights came and went.
The area I now lived in was supposed to be a hospital camp. This was in name only as there was no medical treatment and if men got too ill they just died. The only advantage it had was that the Japanese had written us off as too sick to be bothered about. The disadvantage was that our rations were even smaller than in Changi Prison.
Even though I was quite weak I was still able to walk about. On odd occasions I was able to visit my friends in Changi. There I heard that the Japs were even more aggressive than usual and the rations had been getting smaller. They had made threats on more than one occasion that if the worst happened they would be quite capable of annihilating all of us. There had been an undercurrent among the POWs that if it ever came to that, we would revolt and at least we would be able to say, ‘One of you for one of us.’
One day in the early hours of the morning I heard several distinct thumps in the distance. Actually, I think I felt rather than heard them. I asked my nearest bed mate if he had heard or felt anything and he said he had. As the days passed the whole camp became aware that something was going on. We heard the noise of aircraft and what were obviously the sounds of warfare. Whose planes and guns or what bombs were falling, we didn’t know.
One day our prayers and our questions were answered. A large plane flew over and suddenly the sky became white with paper as hundreds of leaflets came down. When we read them the whole camp became a place of great joy. We hugged each other, and we were laughing and crying at the same time. We, the living skeletons, were literally dancing with joy. The leaflets told us that the war was over. The Japanese had capitulated and whereas up to this moment they had been our captors, they were now our guardians and held responsible for our welfare. The next day one man, a British officer, walked into the camp and as he passed through he told us that help was on its way.
Chapter 24
Freedom
Within a few days of the lone officer’s visit the very sick men were being given urgent medical treatment. The rest of us who were malnourished but otherwise reasonably fit, were issued with some decent clothing. Food began to flow into the camp. We were warned by the ‘powers that be’ to be careful with our food intake and try not to overeat as we could quite easily overload our stomachs. Most of us heeded the warning but there were those who did not and suffered illness and, in some cases, even death.
I heard that my friends who had escaped with me from the railway camp in Thailand (Siam) had been released from Outram Road Prison. I also heard that Ian’s younger brother, Bernard, had died. Unfortunately, I did not see them again.
I suppose each one of us had a great experience. The greatest moment for me, as for most others, was when someone came and asked my name and number and whether I wished to send a telegram to tell my people I was alive and well. Whoever was responsible for those telegrams did a fantastic job. I was in constant touch with my family for days after our release.
Within a few days some of us were taken out of the camp and put into chalet type buildings. We actually had clean beds and bed linen to sleep on. The chalets were like a small one-bedroom apartment and were shared by two men. We were fed and watered by our own people. I had hoped that I would have one of the Japs to look after me so that I could kick his behind now and again, but no such luck. Before we moved into our new quarters we, and our belongings, had to be deloused and debugged. The whole camp had been louse and bug ridden. If one had needed to get up in the night, it had been possible to see a trail of squashed bugs where one had walked on the wooden boards. It was bad enough having to put up with being bitten by the horrible pests but even worse that they could carry diseases from man to man.
Shortly after being released I was medically examined and assessed as to whether I needed hospital treatment. Fortunately I did not but, as a matter of interest, my weight was 6st 8lb (43kg).
Soon we were paid out some money and those of us who were able were allowed to walk to nearby Changi village to buy bits and pieces, but definitely no food. I was able to walk to the village and it was a great thrill to look in the small shops. Although there was not a great deal to see, I could actually buy something with my money. One shop had some small china models of Chinese pagodas and dragons, as well as Malayan houses on stilts. I thought what lovely little souvenirs they would make. As I was admiring them the lady in the shop said, ‘You like?’ I said, ‘Yes, they are lovely.’ She then said for me to wait as she had some special ones to show me. She disappeared for a few minutes and when she returned she had a wooden tray with about a dozen larger and far better looking model houses on it. I was afraid that they were too expensive for me to buy. She then asked me what sort of money I had and I told her Malayan dollars. I selected about six nice pieces and held out my money. She took some and, in farewell, asked me to tell my friends that she had, ‘Plenty nice things for English soldiers, good price, no steal money from them.’ I did show the things to my friends and I am sure she did quite a good trade from my recommendation.
Another great pleasure was being able to buy English cigarettes again. Although it was almost impossible to buy tobacco during our incarceration I don’t think that any of us who had smoked in the past had given any thought to giving up smoking altogether. I know my few puffs of a Wills’ ‘Goldflake’ were like a taste of heaven.
We were all relatively free to wander about and as I got stronger I went exploring the outskirts of the village. One day I came across an empty building that looked interesting and when I pushed the door, it opened quite easily. Inside it looked as though it had been a storehouse of some kind. At the far end of the building were some offices. Just for something to do I decided to investigate further. Inside the offices the desks had been badly treated, and broken chairs lay about. In a row of cupboards along a wall I found lots of paper with both English and Japanese typing on them. The cupboards were about 8in or 9in off the ground and as I looked in one of them I felt my foot touch something underneath the cupboard. I pulled out a cardboard box, which felt quite heavy. It held an almost brand new portable Olympia typewriter. My mind raced around in circles; should I take it or leave it? Then I thought, ‘If I don’t pinch it, someone else will,’ so I took it out of the box, casually picked it up by the handle and walked back to my billet. I put it under my bed and after tea I couldn’t help but get it out and admire it. Two or three minutes later my room-mate came in and saw me fiddling with it. He asked where I had got it and I told him I had bought it. His only comment was, ‘You were a lucky bugger.’ That’s exactly what I thought too.
I practised on the typewriter daily with one finger of each hand but got fed up with only typing about one word a minute. I decided that I would put it away and wait until I got home to have some lessons.
I gradually got stronger and put on some weight. I had made friends with another soldier who had lost a foot in the battle. Although he had been disabled he could get around with a homemade crutch. Like a lot of us, he had decided to stay in Singapore, hoping to be repatriated straight back to England. We went around Changi together and Jack got a lot of sympathy from the local people.
Jack and I were out one afternoon when we met two sailors who were from the battleship HMS Nelson. They told us that they had decided to get a taxi and have a tour around Singapore Island. When they had got to Changi they wanted a look around. Rather than keep the taxi waiting they had paid it off. Jack and I spent some time with them, showing them what little there was to see. They asked us if we would like to go back to the ship with them and have a look around it, as they were allowed to have visitors if they wished. Jack and I accepted their invitation gratefully and in no time were in a taxi and on our way to Singapore City.
The ship was anchored off-shore and to get to it we had to negotiate entering and exiting a liberty boat that took us from shore to ship. Jack was much admired for the way he managed to nimbly hop around, getting in and out of the boat. The two sailors showed us as much of the ship as they were allowed. When the other sailors saw Jack hopping around with his broomstick crutch on our way around the decks, they seemed to look on him with admiration. Actually, I felt quite jealous of him.
After showing us around the ship we were invited to go below to the mess desk. After being introduced all round we finished up having a meal with the sailors. Later, we were put into a taxi and sent back to Changi. I still have a postcard of HMS Nelson with the signatures of several men who were on the mess deck at the time.
I was beginning to find that my weight was gaining faster than my strength and it was getting harder for me to get around. When I was lying down it was quite a struggle to get up. However, I was loath to report sick, as it might have delayed my return to England. I heard that a number of the very sick had been, or were going to be, sent to Australia or Ceylon (Sri Lanka). Later, when I met up with a couple of men who had gone to Australia to recuperate, I wished I had taken the opportunity to go as they told me that they had had a wonderful time.
I would have dearly loved to see some of the sights of Singapore but it was not to be. We were suddenly told that we would be embarking on a troopship to go home to England. It was marvellous news, and so it was a quick whisk through Singapore and onto the ship.
Whilst I had been recuperating in Singapore I had been paid. Since there had been very little opportunity to spend money, I had saved quite an amount. Once we had put to sea we found that the canteen was well-stocked with all kinds of cigarettes, tobacco, chocolate, sweets and even cigars, all at duty-free prices. Although it was a British ship, a lot of the goods sold in the canteen were of American origin. Many of us were buying as much as we could to stock up for when we arrived home.
The food on the ship was, to us, first class. As good as the food was, I was not able to eat a great deal. Also, I was still gaining weight so that I was having difficulty in getting up when I had been seated. Getting up from my bunk bed in the morning was a great effort.
I reported sick and the ship’s doctor confirmed what I had suspected – I was suffering a recurrence of beriberi. The doctor treated me with injections and drugs without much success. However, I managed to enjoy the trip and the adventure of going through the Suez Canal.
The ship stopped for a short time at Port Said and although we were not allowed to disembark and the port traders were not allowed on the ship, a lot of trading was done by hauling up baskets on ropes. Fortunately, we had a few old soldiers on board and, of course, the crew members. They warned us to unwrap anything that the Egyptians sold. The traders were very adept at selling something that appeared very good on the outside but was rubbish on the inside.
One of the traders had been waving some rather nice looking leather wallets. I was on the lower deck of the ship and could almost reach out and grab the article. I made him understand that I wanted to see it and he held the basket on a pole. He passed up the wallet and I found that it was a writing case of finely tooled leather with a picture of the pyramids and camels on the front. Inside it was lined with sand coloured fabric and was very nicely finished. I ask him how much and we began the usual haggling. Finally, we agreed on the price. Fortunately, I still had the case in my hands when he started demonstrating that I should give him back his sample and he would send me up one wrapped in cellophane. I said, ‘No, I want this one.’ After quite a lot of gesticulating and obvious bad temper he finally gave in and let me keep the one I had.
A chap who was standing next to me was admiring the case and called out to the trader to send one up for him to look at. Up came one wrapped in cellophane that looked exactly like mine and was the same price. One of the crew members asked if he could have a look at it. The crewman took the packet in his hand and leaning over the rail of the ship started to undo the wrapper. The trader was nearly having a fit – shouting, pointing his finger and stamping his feet. The crewman quietly remarked, ‘He’s putting a curse on me.’ When the wrapper came off he showed us the inside of the case and it was just plain cardboard: no pockets, no fabric, no stitching, just ordinary cardboard. With that the crew member just threw the packet onto the dockside and told the trader to, ‘F*** off.’
