26: Adventurous Journey Home – Part 1.

September 1945 – Manila, Island of Luzon, The Philippines

It was now almost two months since our liberation from the Japanese and we still didn't know when we would go home. I continued my daily walks having no idea as to where the permanent U.S. Army Garrison I was billeted in was situated. Surrounding it on all sides were wide areas of open countryside shaded by coconut palms, with a few bushes here and there.

On our arrival here, we the P.O.W.’s had all been checked over, had X-Rays and given inoculations for heaven knows what. Returning to my tent one day I had been left a card instructing me to report to the medical centre and to take the card with me. At reception I handed the card to the medical orderly on duty who, after reading my number rank and name, looked up and said “Are you really in the Royal Air Force?” To which I replied, “Yes!” His face beamed as he said, “I just can’t wait to tel my Ma and Pa that I’ve actually met someone from the Royal Air Force. What luck I just can’t believe it!” I said “Thanks” and then enquired where I was to go. He then said he would take me and showed me to a room with a doctor in residence.

After the formalities I was questioned about the mine I had recently worked in. My chest was then examined and the doctor asked me if I had TB. I told him no, but when very young about five years of age, I’d spent some time in an isolation hospital with Diptheria. “That’s it” he exclaimed and then went on to explain that it had left a scar on my lung. I was very relieved it was nothing more serious.

Reading some of the glossy magazines provided by my generous hosts, America seemed like another world to me. Some of the advertisements seemed unbelievable. For instance “We are sorry you cannot buy your new Mercury, Oldsmobile, Chevrolet or whatever but when you GI’s come home we'll make sure you don’t have to wait too long.” I thought of the Americans in our camp at Ohashi who had owned cards before they joined up and with the ‘two rank’ instant promotions they had been given wouldn’t have any cash problems when they returned home.

White and Black – ‘Firewater’

We British ex-P.O.W.’s hadn’t received any pay but we had no real need for it as our hosts were catering for all our needs. I recall one amusing incident when taking one of my daily walks. Once I had moved outside the camp I noticed a parked caravan ahead. As I approached, I could see it had an open side with soft drinks, beer and spirits for sale. A black G.I. stood at the open side and a young Philippino lady served behind the counter. I was unaware at the time that a very strong segregation of coloured and white troops was normal; never acknowledging one another. As I walked past I nodded and said “Hello, it's good to be in the shade in this heat.” The G.I. looked at me rather strangely and asked, “Where you from?” “England” I replied. He then wanted to know what I was doing there. I told him I was one of the ex-Japanese Prisoner’s of War at the camp awaiting to be transported home. He asked if I would like a drink. I said, “No thanks. I haven’t received any pay as yet. He then told me not to worry about paying so I said, “Thanks, I’ll have an orangeade”. He said, “I’ve heard about your limeys”; a reference to the drink I ordered, I think. The G.I. was drinking from a bottle of whisky and I could not help but notice the label. It read White and Black, Fine Scotch Whisky; not the usual Black and White Whisky we would see back home.

I enjoyed the orange drink buy my new friend kept insisting that I have a drink with him. By now the potency of whatever he was drinking was taking effect and it was obvious that my refusal to join him was beginning to upset him. He called for another glass, which he half filled from the bottle. I wished him good health and took a swig from the glass. Firewater would be an understatement; the fumes went to my head and what felt like liquid fire went down my throat. I gulped down the orangeade to try putting out the fire. I asked him if I could see the bottle; it had been distilled in Manila. I told him I was unable to drink that out here in the heat, as my stomach couldn’t cope with alcohol after so long without decent food. He then wanted to buy me a bottle to take with me. I thank him for his generosity whilst pouring my glass of firewater into the orangeade bottle, telling him that was quite sufficient and that I would drink it later in the cool of the evening.

Thinking I had been very diplomatic and about to continue on my way, he asked, “How did you get on for women?” “Women!” I exclaimed and emphasised “No women!” I was taken aback and wondered what type of prison camps he was thinking of; certainly not ones run by the Jap’s. I should have departed then, but he hadn’t finished with me, not by a long chalk. Pointing to the young Philippino lady behind the counter he said, “Will you?” She smiled broadly and nodding her head vigorously said No, she wouldn’t mind at all. Suddenly, illustrated lectures that I had attended in initial training and on board the ship going to Malaya where two doctors graphically described the results of venereal disease flashed through my mind. I certainly had no inclination or wish to participate, so simply shrugged and told him I needed to get my health back but, “Thanks anyway.” I then beat a hasty retreat and, needless to say, I didn’t drink the firewater!

I noticed every few days an aerial spray was being carried out by U.S. air force lighting twin fuselage fighters. P.38, I think they were called. I was unable to find out what was being sprayed or even how much of the camp was sprayed. I came to the conclusion that it was just the area where we, the ex-P.O.W.'s, were camping.

25: Liberation by Americans, Yokohama and Manila in the Philippines

One more day of waiting and then on the Fifteenth of September, Nineteen Forty Five (15.09.45), American trucks drove into our camp. We were on the move at last. Someone was sent up the road to tell the Chinese to move into our camp and to use up the supplies. As my turn came, I climbed on to the truck, my very few possessions in my side pack and Bill’s ashes in his box and away we went. It was an exhilarating feeling to be on our way home at last, after three and a half years of privation and forced slave labour.

We rode off down the road to Kamishi where American soldiers had organised everything perfectly. Landing craft as used for invasions were waiting ashore for us to walk on, then taken out to a hospital ship lying out at sea, warships were anchored nearby. Our landing craft came to rest alongside the hospital ship, I climbed aboard. It was another example of perfect organisation. We were told to strip off all our clothing and throw everything else we were carrying into nearby bins. I looked around for a sailor to hand Bill’s ashes so he could be returned home, I couldn’t just throw him in the bin. The sailor escorted me to a cabin where I gave Bill’s name, number and the details I knew of his home town etc, then back I went to be processed. All the new clothing that we had taken off was now thrown over the side, the sea a mass of floating olive green uniforms and boots. We were then shown into cubicles and spraying with chemicals to kill any skin infestations we may have had, then into the showers, as we left we were given U.S. navy denim trousers and shirt, underwear and shoes then a medical examination. I was told I was fit but needed fattening up and to go out of a door and onto the deck. On deck I watched landing craft going to the different warships unloading men. Later I was called to one and taken with others to a destroyer where at the rear deck, rope climbing nets were hung over the side, these we clambered up, being greeted by the sailors and shown our berths.

As soon as the required number of men were on board, we set off. Over the loudspeaker system we were told our destination was to be Yokohama and we should reach there the following day. We were also told that the ship’s crew would eat first as they had to work the ship, we would eat after and could take as long as we wished over our meal. When our turn came the dining room was empty except for the cooks who told us to eat anything and everything we wanted, they would leave us to help ourselves. We ate our fill following by lots of delicious coffee. I then went to my bunk and enjoyed a good nights rest. On awakening next morning, the destroyer was pitching in rough seas, so we decided we would stay in our bunks rather than face the wind and spray on deck, at least we were travelling in comfort this time round.

On arriving at Yokohama we disembarked. We understood that all our ex-P.O.W.’s were being brought here and then flown to the Philippines on their way home, but when we arrived a typhoon was approaching Japan, so the planes had been grounded, instead, we were to board a cruiser and go by sea to Manila.

All the American warships had been made to accommodate troops which had been transported during the battle for the islands of the Pacific, so were ideally suited to carry us.

Our food was served to us on large pressed stainless steel trays, with different dishes for each compartment, followed by plenty of fruit and ice cream. It was very enjoyable.

The typhoon reached Yokohama and we put to sea. Small ships were breaking from their moorings and smashing against the quay. After a night at sea the weather improved and we enjoyed a pleasant voyage to the Philippines. Each night on deck a film was shown on a screen erected on the rear gun turrets. A ‘Movie Call’ was sounded on a bugle over the loudspeaker system and all men not on duty rushed up to the fantail which was the rear decks.

The American Navy seemed entirely different to the Royal Navy, the Captain walked about the deck wearing a baseball cap with CAPT on the front. Any announcement was preceded with “Now hear this”. We had a marvellous time with them, they gave us free beers, chocolate and cigarettes and couldn’t do enough for us.

Arriving at the Philippines we were taken to a U.S. Army Camp and put into large tents. Their treatment and generosity knew no bounds. An issue of three bottles of beer, forty cigarettes, three cigars, a packet of pipe tobacco and bars of chocolate every day and wonderful food. We had another medical and X-Ray then kitted out in U.S. army uniform.

Outside the camp was utter devastation everywhere, so found we were better off staying in camp. There was entertainment every evening with films and live concerts, I remember Danny Kaye appearing there. Most of us ex-prisoners rarely attended the concerts and films, we found it difficult to mix and socialise with normal people. We had changed so much we found we could only feel comfortable when talking to each other. I did go outside in the vicinity of the camp for the occasional walk as we were there for a month and with so much good food and no work, I needed the exercise.

Coming back to my tent area one day after one of these jaunts, I suddenly heard a Japanese voice shout “Hyaku San-Juu Ni”, my prison number 132, which stopped me in my tracks. I turned and looked in the direction to where the call came from and there was my old adversary, the dock foreman from Hakodate shipyard Watanabe digging a trench.

I walked over to him, he was smiling and trying, I think, to convey to me the word ‘Remember’ and managed “You, me, Hakodate. I replied “You are the prisoner now”. “Cigaretto?” he asked. I turned to his American guard and asked if I could give him cigarettes. He seemed astounded and asked how I came to know him. I explained he had been my foreman at one camp for six months. He then wanted to know, “Did he give you any trouble?” to which I replied, no.

In the meantime, a rapid conversation was taking place in the trench between Watanabe and another Japanese soldier, who seemed rather bewildered.

I bent down and gave Watanabe some cigarettes, enough to share with his friend. I asked him if he was being well fed, also, if he knew when he would be going home. Yes, he was being well fed and would be going home in about six months time. I said goodbye and walked away, thinking to myself, what a remarkable meeting.

I was pleased he called out to me. He obviously regarded our ‘duels’ against each other without animosity or surely he would not have made me aware of his presence when he was at such a great disadvantage. I realised he could have made my life a lot worse at Hakodate by calling the guards to deal with me at times.

What surprised me most was that he was still able to recognise me, also, remembered my number, two and a half years later, especially as I was now wearing U.S. uniform.

I perhaps owed him more than those few cigarettes as I felt he may have inadvertently saved my life.
 

24: Supplies from the Skies and a Freedom Adventure from Camp – Part 2.

A full week had passed since the war ended, so decided I would like to have a look outside the camp. I walked to Ohasi hoping to see my friendly mine foreman Sakata, hoping to repay him in some small way for his fair treatment and attitude towards me. I did not find him but was given the information that as soon as was possible, he had left for Yokohama to be with his family once again.

Another day, four of us boarded a bus at Ohasi and travelled to Kamaishi. I had seen these buses on the odd occasion when walking to and from work. I believe they were run on wood fumes as a substitute for petrol, they made very slow progress. My mates and I were wearing the American olive green tropical uniform and boots, but the locals didn’t seem to mind us and on our arrival at Kamaishi, bade us good day. The destruction of the town had been complete, every stone and brick building had been damaged, no wooden houses remained, all had been burnt to the ground, only the small concrete roads between the houses remained. I looked around me and saw nothing but ashes which I noticed people were sifting through where their rice store had once been, we watched as they sorted out the scorched grains.

After a time we walked to the sea shore. The water was very clear and looked inviting, the sun was shining, so we decided to dip out feet in to start with and if warm enough, to take a dip. I put my feet in and the shock of the cold water immediately cancelled out any thoughts I’d had of bathing in these waters, paddling my toes had been more than enough. I let my feet dry in the sun and as there was nothing to see or do in Kamaishi, decided to go back to camp. We started to walk then managed to get a lift on a Jap lorry for the remainder of the journey.

A group of us decided to pay a visit to the Chinese P.O.W. camp. Walking round we were surprised at how few appeared to be there. We came across some eventually and from what we could understand, there were now only about sixty of them that had survived out of four hundred. They were terribly thin but were now eating better with the surplus food from our camp. Moving on we passed the huge fire where I had seen bodies being tossed in, it was still alight but probably just burning itself out.

Some of the men had become impatient at the delay in collecting us and had decided to walk over the mountainous hills behind the camp, to where about four miles on was said to be a railway station, they didn’t return so had obviously pressed on to some unknown destination. I spoke to one of the chaps and suggested we take a trip out but he thought we should wait a few more days in case of any developments. The forces broadcast on radio told us to “Stay where you are, Tokyo is full of American troops and you will all be collected as soon as possible”.

We waited until the twelfth of September, almost a month since the war had ended, we were restless. Next morning my chum and I started off climbing up and over the hills, there was a worn path so we had no difficulty in finding our way to the station. Arriving there we asked the Jap in the ticket office for two tickets to Tokyo which he wrote out. He spoke English and said there was a curfew on at night so we would have to put somewhere overnight, also not to take the next train but the one after. We had quite a long wait before our train finally arrived with Japanese soldiers on board. Two of them made signs for us to wait before boarding. They then cleared a whole carriage of civilians, then gestured for us to board. Two soldiers stood on guard, one each end of the carriage then off we went. We had taken food and drink with us from the bountiful supply at camp, so settled down to enjoy the journey.

It was late evening when we pulled into a station, one of the guards informed us “We stop here to sleep”. When we alighted there were three Japanese policemen and more soldiers lined up on the platform. One of the policemen stepped forward, I think he was the Chief of Police, shook our hands and bowed. He said the trains must stop here due to curfew so he wold take us somewhere to stay the night. Outside the station the road was jammed with people waiting to catch a glimpse of us, the soldiers pushed through the crowd making way for us. After a ten minute walk, we were ushered into a building and once inside saw it was a hotel. The policeman assured us we would be looked after and asked whether he and his two friends could join us later for a meal, to which we agreed. We were shown to our room and then the location of the bathroom. The beds consisted of the usual rice matting plus a pillow and quilt. We cleaned up then waited to be told when the meal was ready. It seemed to take hours, we had nothing to read to occupy our time, no radio to listen to and there was no furniture whatsoever in the room.

Dinner was served in our room eventually, a charcoal fire, a small table with rice, fish, pickles and hot thin soup followed by green tea and saki. Our guests arrived with the meal, the talk mainly consisted of where did we come from, did we like Japan, what were we now intending to do, was we in a hurry to go home etc? Before leaving, our friendly policeman asked what time we wished to rise in the morning, our reply was to catch the first train out. We were then thanked for having them and wished well, as they departed with a lot of bowing.

We were woken at five next morning and served a rice and fish breakfast. We settled our bill and then made for the station, still with our soldier escorts in tow. The train was already waiting in the station, we were ushered into another empty coach and off we went once again, with our guards as before. I sat wondering what might be ahead of us, we hadn’t much money as we had only been given just one small payment, enough to buy any odd item we might need. When starting our journey, we had no thought of staying in hotels. The train was making very slow progress and as we couldn’t afford another hotel, I just hoped we would reach Tokyo before very long.

After travelling for about an hour, the train pulled into a not very large station where we were asked by a soldier to alight who then pointed to a waiting room. No one else got off but we did as we were told. The soldier then boarded the train and was away, we were alone. We assumed the departing train was not going to Tokyo and we were having to wait for another. We hung about for an hour without seeing anyone and began to wonder what could happen next. We decided not to leave the station, just in case the train turned up in our absence.

It was still early in the day when a civilian suddenly appeared, he couldn’t speak much English and kept repeating “Red Cross” and walking towards the exit. He apparently wanted us to go with him, so as he obviously knew of us, we followed him outside the station where a large saloon car was parked, he opened the door for us to get in. We rode through the countryside for sometime, the scenery was hilly at times but we did not pass through any large towns. Eventually we stopped at what must have been a Japanese café for a rice meal and green tea which he paid for.

As we talked and gestured during the meal it became clear we were on our way back to Ohasi, a ship was calling there to collect us. It would be too difficult to move us by road or rail owing to the severity of bomb damage. In my view Kamaishi had no docks left to take any ships either. Resuming our journey, we arrived back at camp in the darkness. It seemed rather odd, no one seemed interested in where we had been or bothered about us getting back, it was as if we had just been for a ten minute walk. The day we had left for our journey to Tokyo, the food drops had ceased and the men informed they were to be picked up very shortly. There were still huge amounts of supplies stacked on the parade ground, enough to have filled a warehouse.
 

24: Supplies from the Skies and a Freedom Adventure from Camp – Part 1.

Next morning we discovered the badly burned men had been moved from the sick bay during the night whilst we slept, also, the army guards had left. The guardroom and main gates were now being named by Japanese military police.

At ten o’clock we all formed up on the square, the three American officers at the front, the Japanese officers and their staff of soldiers facing us. The Japanese Commandant then read out a statement saying our Countries had reached an agreement and that the war between us had now come to an end. The M.P.'s on guard at the gates were there to protect us from any Japanese who might wish to do us harm. He then handed over command of the camp to the American C.O. who inspected the Jap soldiers before putting them back on duty.

The C.O. addressed us requesting us to stay in camp until things had settled down, but we were free to go out if we so wished, also there was now a curfew covering the whole of Japan at night. He expected to hear more news on the elusive radio which the Jap’s had searched in vain for and apologised for not sharing the news with us in the past. He had understandably not wanted to risk losing the radio, as he felt we may have needed it for our survival. P.O.W. was to be put on the roof of our hut, plus a number four hundred for the total number of ex-prisoners in camp.

Once dismissed, we were free to do anything we wished, no more slave labour, no more hunger and brutality, it was hard to come to terms with, I lay on my bed wondering what would come next. Suddenly a cheer went up at the American end of the hut as they heard on the radio, those who had been Japanese prisoners for three years were all promoted two ranks up with pay to start from when taken prisoner, so we now had a Colonel in charge of the camp instead of a Captain.

We celebrated that day with two meals of port stew containing real chunks of meat, what a feast and how we enjoyed it. Not many of the men went out that day. About mid-morning the following day we heard planes, the sound coming from over the hills from the next valley then passing away. Shortly after we heard the sound of the engines returning, I went out onto the square and flying towards our camp were Hellcat fighters, which must have come from an aircraft carrier that was present when Kamaishi was attached. They flew low over the camp, waving and circling, the pilots throwing out packets of cigarettes and one small parcel. Inside the parcel were strips of white canvas and diagrams showing how to indicate what was needed most urgently, food, medical supplies or clothing. All we could think of at that time was food, so the relative diagram was displayed, the pilot acknowledged and then flew off. The whole camp was buzzing with excitement as to what would happen next, we hadn’t long to wait.

Early afternoon we heard the planes engines approaching and coming along the valley at about forty feet, were a flight of torpedo bombers and as they flew over they dropped kitbags full of loaves of bread, milk, a side of bacon hit the square with a thud, cigarettes, tinned fruit and some sacks of potatoes. They then flew off leaving a note to say they would feed us every day. Needless to say we really enjoyed that food – it is hard to describe the pleasure it brought and how we eagerly awaited their visit each day. We still ate rice as our main food, but it tasted so much nicer with all the extras.

After five days of daily visits, they dropped a message saying the aircraft carrier had to leave as their food stocks were running low, they must also have used all the sailors kitbags in which they had been dropping our supplies. They also wrote that the American air force would be bringing us further supplies in B29 Super-fortress’s and would be able to bring in bigger loads and would fly from Okinawa.

The next day all ears were pinned back listening for our new saviours, at last we heard the sound of the bombers engines and looking up, I was surprised to see they were at about the height as flown by reconnaissance planes, obviously no low level flights for them, maybe they were using bomb sights. There were three planes and as we watched, we saw the cargo leave the planes, parachutes opened and down came the containers, some snapping off the parachutes and whistling down sounding like bombs. One crashed through the roof of the Japanese guardhouse, hitting a Jap soldier who had been watching from a window and bursting out the side of the building, the man with it, I don’t think he survived. Another hurtled into our toilets, one of our men was using one at the time, as it smashed through demolishing half of the cubicles, the sewage from underneath gushed up through the hole the man was squatting over, covering him completely. He was rescued and washed down with a hose and appeared to be in shock, he was unable to speak for four hours.

After the raid, for that was surely what it had seemed with the camp suffering a lot of damage, there was a bit of clearing up to do. It was decided next time they came, we would take cover. The containers being used were forty gallon oil drums which had the bottoms cut out, then been spot welded together in pairs to double their size, making them far too weighty to be held by the parachutes when filled with the tins of food. Supplies had fallen outside the camp as well as in and orders had been given out, all food supplies dropped for the ex-P.O.W.'s was to be handed in, any Jap caught stealing any would be shot. One Japanese man came into the camp covered from head to foot with tomato sauce. Cases of the stuff had gone through his roof breaking his arm. Would we go and collect what was left he asked. He was cleaned up, his arm reset by the surgeon and given some cigarettes and food leaving the camp a happy man.

The Japanese army had organised the collection of the scattered supplies and soon trucks began to arrive with loaded containers and cases. There were boots, clothing, cigarettes and food, there were prepared meals labelled breakfast, lunch and dinner, also chocolate, everything we could possibly want was there. We had decided that during the next ‘raid’, we would shelter in a railway tunnel nearby. We didn’t have long to wait. The following day three planes appeared and we all rushed for shelter. It was a repeat performance with half the cargo damaged or ruined. The broken chocolate bars were like shingle on the ground and when pressing ones foot in the earth, evaporated milk would ooze up. The losses didn’t bother us as we were more than amply provided for.

We had started by dividing the drops equally but with just the second delivery, we were getting eight packs of cigarettes each. Of course we had to sort out the boots, picking out the size we required, this averaged eight pairs per each man and that was the scale of the drops with everything.

‘Smith’ came into camp with his gramophone one day. We asked for copies of the photos he had taken, he returned some days later with them, I cannot recall what we paid for them.

We felt that someone must have registered a complaint regarding the ‘raids’. As the planes approached on the third drop, a red parachute was released, we assumed to give us time to take cover, when the drop had been completed a green chute was released which was obviously the ‘all clear’ signal. The amount of supplies being dropped were far beyond our needs, we were rapidly running out of storage space and were now stacking the daily supplies that still kept coming, onto the square. Our Adjutant decided to visit the Chinese camp to see what their needs were and so it was shared with them.

The feeling of freedom from roll calls, orders, searches, being guarded and watched at all times and so many restrictions was marvellous. It gave a wonderful feeling of well being sitting around chatting, smoking decent cigarettes and the food, fabulous tasty food, no longer the gnawing hunger in the pit of my stomach that had been with me for three and a half years. No more beatings and almost freezing to death, no worms eating away inside me, my skin clear of sores and boils and best of all, being able to smile. I felt alive once again and found myself looking forward to each tomorrow.
 

23: Horror of the Sick Bay and End of the War

There wasn’t much work done the following day, we moved some logs and then had a break, this was the pattern of our day.

Back at camp, I prepared to do my turn in the sick bay, some of the men I discovered when I went for a wash before my stint, had been kept back from going to work that day, so they could help with the sick men.

I walked over to the sick bay, opened the door and walked in, the smell was nauseating, I lost my appetite immediately. It was just as well I hadn’t eaten anything, I think my stomach would have rejected it there and then. Schofield, the American orderly came to meet me, talking in a low voice, he told me the camp where the men had been billeted had been hit during the bombing of Kamaishi, they were sheltering in trenches at the time, when a blazing hut had fallen on top of the trench trapping them. They were all in a serious condition with no skin left on their bodies. I would have to feed the patient and help him if he needed to pass water into a bottle, to keep flies off him as his nerve ends were exposed and he would feel pain and I was asked if I could stick it out until dark when they settled down. He pointed to a bed saying “That man is English, will you go to him?”.

I went to the bed where this mummified looking figure lay. I gazed at this poor man, a blackened hole or his nostrils, a blackened hole for his mouth, a thin strip of gauze bandage lay over his nostrils and two eyes stared out of the strips of rag he was bound in. What a terrible twist of fate, having suffered and survived being a P.O.W. for so long and now this just when the end of the war and our freedom was in sight. I felt helpless, I smiled and said “Hello”. There was a chair beside his bed, I asked “Do you mind if I sit down, I’ve just finished work?”. His eyes moved up and down in assent. I needed to sit down, the stench from him was overpowering. I had to suppress my feelings somehow and try to help him, what could he be thinking? I asked “Is there anything I can do for you?” he replied slowly “Keep the flies off me”. I then asked where he came from, his eyes seemed to brighten and he started to tell me about where his home was, of the lanes and green fields, I didn’t understand the name of the village, his voice distorted, but he was happy to have someone to listen.

After a much longer chat than I expected, he asked if I could give him something to eat. On a small table near his bed was a dish covered with a cloth. I removed the cloth and there was a small amount of fish and rice in a bowl with a teaspoon. I fed him very slowly, he could only eat a third of the spoon at a time, obviously he was unable to move from his laying position. I then gave him a drink and he settled down closing his eyes, no doubt thinking his own private thoughts as we all did when laying in bed, dreaming of better places, of home, temporarily blotting out the reality of our existence. I watched over him for flies, one landed on him before I could prevent it, his eyes flew open. Later I had to put his burned penis into a bottle for him to pass water. This was a shocking experience for me, I had managed to overcome my revulsion once I had become used to the smell, and feeding him through the blackened hole that was his mouth had been fraught, but having to handle his blackened body was totally different, I was terrified I might hurt him. The realisation of how helpless he was, made me pull myself together.

Later, he asked where I lived, it was my turn to do the talking, so I chatted away about home and family and what I used to do whilst he just lay listening.

Night fell and Schofield came over and said they would be alright now, he asked what had been happening and I explained what I had done. I then said cheerio to my patient “I’ll see you again”. As I left the sick bay, I could hear moans of pain from the other unfortunates, I hadn’t noticed them before. I walked slowly back to the hut unable to get that man out of my thoughts, the sight of him out of my mind.

My food was on the table covered with someone else’s bowl which I returned with thanks, taking my food to eat on my bed but found I still didn’t feel hungry.

The following day I heard from some of the other volunteers how they had been given the task of scrubbing the decaying burnt flesh from the bandages the men had been wrapped in, the flesh adhering to the bandages as the dressings were changed, I’ve a feeling they also lost their appetites. I felt back to normal after a nights sleep, but found I could not rid my mind of those poor creatures laying suffering in the sick bay.

We walked towards the mine the following morning accompanied by the Honourable Men and two soldiers, then past the entrance onto the hillside of rough grass and shrubs. It was a lovely day and when we reached a flatish area, the guards halted us and told us to spread ourselves out and rest. This we did and after a while walked about or sat in groups chatting. “No work today” said one of the guards, we only wished we had some cigarettes then to make our day.

There was definitely something strange going on. I spotted Sakata and walking over to him, asked what was happening. He told me another large bomb had destroyed Nagasaki in one explosion and that the war would soon be over, today perhaps. We had been taken up the hillside because the Emperor was going to speak to his people at eleven o’clock, up here we would be unable to hear what he had to say.

After our normal lunchtime break then a rest, we were taken down the hillside towards the mine, as we descended we passed the oncoming two o’clock shift of Japanese workers. Sakata walked over to one of them and spoke to him, he rejoined us shortly after and said “The war is over, all men go home”, this was wonderful news, something I had dreamed about for three and a half years but didn’t dare believe. It would have been devastating if we found it not to be true, I decided I would believe it only if told officially. On reaching the main area we were taken to a large shed where repairs to locomotive parts were carried out, then shut in. We were told it would be for a short time only, but it was an hour before the door opened. We now had two extra guards and were taken back to camp, no search, just dismissed, it looked promising.

As each working party came in they were eagerly questioned, “Have you heard the war is over?”. Some had, some hadn’t, we couldn’t find any definite news but there was a feeling of anticipation and excitement. The food came at the usual time, we ate and talked about what we would do when free, my thoughts were with the men in the sick bay, someone must say something soon. We sat about, it was a pleasant summer evening, no guards had been near the hut and some of the men were sitting outside in the sun, it WAS different. I was just hoping this wasn’t all a dream, I don’t think I could have coped any more if on waking I found I was still a slave of the Jap’s. Roll call came as we watched the guardhouse through the window, not one soldier moved towards our hut.

Half an hour later the Americans decided to kill one of the pigs belonging to the Jap’s, that were kept behind our hut, producing some long sharp knives that they had hidden in case of trouble. A trail of burnt rice obtained from the cookhouse was placed on the ground outside the sty, which encouraged one of the pigs to investigate. As it left the sty one man struck its head with a piece of wood stunning it enough for the two with the knives to complete the job. Whilst this deed was being carried out, the guardhouse was being kept under surveillance from the window inside the hut. At the sudden commotion and loud squealing of the pig, a guard rushed out with a rifle at the ready and dashed round the back of the hut to where the noise was coming from. As he rounded the hut he stopped dead, surveying the scene, glancing at the dead pig, the knives the men were still holding dripping with blood, he said “O.K.” and smiled. One of the men informed him it was for the cookhouse to cook us the next day. Another smile and he was gone. The was must be over.

After dark when we were all gathered in the hut, the American Adjutant asked for our attention. He announced there would be no roll call in the morning, but we were to be on parade at ten o’clock. There was no lights out at nine o’clock that evening, so we just turned in when it suited us for the first time ever since in captivity.
 

22: Disaster in the Mine, a Lucky Escape Again, Distant Allied Bombing and Fighter Attack

One day in late July, we arrived ready to start our shift and went to level five hundred and fifty as usual, on arriving at the office we were told there was no work today, to go down to five hundred level. Kimura our foreman that day, led us into the main level in this part of the mine where there was a path running along a full size railway track, it was also much wetter, the office for this level was a half a mile in. Kimura went to the office and asked for orders, he returned bringing with him the box of rice balls from which we took one each. He then counted off the number of men he wanted, telling the remaining four of us to wait there until he returned. We like to keep our rice balls for later and normally did, but as we waited our hunger pangs got the better of us.

We were alongside the main line so looked around for somewhere to eat them. There was a large V shaped cleft in the rock wall big enough for the four of us to stand in, so in we went. We were concentrating on the serious business of eating, when a few moments later there was a loud muffled ‘Whump’ noise, like an underground explosion. Shortly after, a gigantic wind tore up the tunnel, we pressed ourselves further into the cleft, seconds later an empty sixteen ton iron ore truck came tearing along, being blown by the force of the wind, leaving the rails just beyond us, it crashed into the side of the tunnel and folded like cardboard. Shortly after Kimura and other workmates reappeared filthy, splashed with mud. As Kimura passed by without stopping he ordered “All men quick march”. Obviously there had been a collapse in the mine somewhere.

After walking quickly for about ten minutes, we could see a pin point of light in the distance, so we stepped up our pace eager to get out of the mine into the open. On arriving outside, some of the Japanese miners started to laugh at the state of some of our men, Kimura went over and spoke to them and the laughing ceased. We were told to move away from the mine entrance and wait for guards. More of our men emerged, most covered in mud. The Honourable Men arrived but we still had to wait for the soldier guards.

Whilst waiting, a train came down the tunnel pulling flat trucks and when it passed through the entrance it stopped. Lying in the trucks were bodies of men completely covered with black mud. I notice one man blowing bubbles of blood through the mud covering his face. There didn’t seem to be any first aid available, the men just lay where they were while others stood around talking. Once the soldiers arrived, we were taken onto the hillside and told to sit down until it was time to return to camp.

Back at camp that night the bathhouse fire was lit specially for the miners, not one of the P.O.W’s had suffered injury or been killed, although some had amazing escapes. One man had been working alongside a Japanese miner, when part of the roof had caving in killing the Jap. The top five hundred levels where the Indonesian worked had not been affected.

Next day we were back at work on the mountain side collecting pit props. We now alternated between this job and taking drills down to the workshops, to be sharpened or returning the sharpened ones to different levels – we never worked in the mine again. All three foremen were outside with us as we were spread over quite a large area. Sakata was most talkative and seemed rather worried about what was happening. Kimura and Hai San seemed oblivious to the fact that things were changing and that the war was nearing its end. Sakata told me that forty eight Japanese and Koreans had been killed in the mine collapse and thought it amazing that more than fifty P.O.W’s working in the same mine had escaped unhurt.

I had seen some extreme weather in Japan and on the way back to the camp one day, there was a sudden hailstorm, the hail was the size of pigeons’ eggs. We were on the open road with no protection, the stones really hurt, so I wrapped my arms over my head and face, bending forward so they hit my back but still they hurt. The miners protective helmets would have been handy but as we were not working in the mine at the time, we were not carrying them. Thankfully it only lasted ten minutes.

One day in early August whilst at work, we heard the sound of exploding bombs in the direction of Kamaishi. It wasn’t a full scale raid, about nine planes I thought, there was also some anti-aircraft fire. I did wonder if they might come further along the railway line next time to do some bombing. We were still working on the hillside at the drill forge, cleaning the spare drills lying about and any other odd job that could be found for us to do. Soap was almost non existent now so together with about ten others, I had all my hair cut off to keep my head clean. Some had made the decision months earlier, but I had hung on to mine a bit longer.

A few days later another raid started, this time on a much larger scale. We could hear planes and at intervals the explosion of bombs, but something seem rather odd, so we stopped and listened and noticed a regular crash of explosions, that could only mean that the allied navy was also bombarding Kamaishi. This went on all day.

Walking back to camp that evening, two fighters came along the valley flying low over our heads. We could hear machine gun fire, which seemed to be coming from the direction of the mine buildings being shot up. I was relieved to see the fighters fly past us as we were all dressed in Japanese uniforms and thought there was every chance of being fired on. Perhaps the pilots had been warned there may be P.O.W’s in the area. As night fell so the raids and bombardment stopped.

The next day I believe was the 12th August, it was work as usual and I was working with Sakata. He told me the war would soon be over, the Americans had dropped a gigantic bomb. I asked if yesterday’s raid on Kamaishi was that bad. He said “Kamaishi” was nearly destroyed by fire, bombs and shells, the fighters had shot up trains and transport”, but no, he was not talking about Kamaishi. The Americans had dropped just one bomb and completely destroyed a Japanese city. He drew 50,000+ in the soil with a stick and remarked they were wiped out in one big bang. I could not imagine a bomb that big or powerful but he insisted it was only one bomb.

The working parties arrived back in camp and when we were all present the American C.O. asked for silence as he wished to speak to us. He then told us there had been some badly burned P.O.W’s brought in during the day and were in the sick bay. There were no bandages available, so if we had any linen or sheeting of any kind in our possession, would we please give them to the sick bay as they were desperately needed. Also tea if any was available. We were asked to help by washing bandages or feeding and helping the injured men in any way we were able. I volunteered and was told to go to the sick bay after work the next day and before I ate my meal.
 

21: Beans, Quarry Work and an American Bomber – Part 2.

The walk to the quarry was in the opposite direction to the mine, so I had a change of scenery. On the way we passed the village rice store which was the only brick building in Ohasi, and a safeguard against the risk of fire. This building was about the size of an average detached house and to my astonishment, the lower courses of bricks were being chopped out and round straight tree trunk rollers placed underneath with blocks. The work had already been well underway before I had started walking in that direction and after a few days, I actually saw the building being moved and rolled some distance away from the wooden buildings. When the next rest day came round, I spoke to the chap I had changed jobs with and asked how he was getting on in the mine. He said he missed the outdoor work but once he had become used to the weight of the ore, there was no difference, the rice ball was the real bonus so he didn’t wish to change just yet.

Ten days later during the next rest day, several of the prisoners numbers were called out and told to report to the sick bay, mine was one of them. Being near the end of the hut, I was one of the first group to go, injections or health check I supposed. It was certainly a health check, the fittest men were needed to work in the mines, the food was having a bad effect on a lot of the men and targets were down. I went to the surgeon, he sounded my chest, listened to my heart, took my pulse and told me to jump on the scales, I weighted eight stone, “OK” he said, “Report to the mine working party tomorrow”, I pleaded “I have only been working in the quarry for twenty days after two years solid in the mine”, and he replied “You wouldn’t want a sick man down there in your place would you?” I said no. He got up and came to me, felt my back in different places and said “I know it’s tough just as you’ve got yourself a better job, maybe it won’t be too long, you have a back as good as any I have seen and are capable of doing the work”. Capable I thought, on an empty stomach?. I returned to the hut feeling a bit down at the depressing thought of returning to the mine, but consoled by the fact that I was as fit as could be expected in these circumstances.

Next day I returned to level five hundred and fifty in the mine, Sakata asked if I felt better, I replied “Yes thanks”. Later I asked him about the moving of the rice store that I had witnessed a week or so before. He told me the rice store was a reserve in case to earthquakes, fire or other disasters. He then said to me “The war will finish soon, Germany has been beaten”. I kept that piece of news to myself, he would have been in trouble talking to me about the war, especially heart lifting snippets like that.

There had been no change in our routine. Sakata had mentioned earlier that fishing boats were being sunk, making fish scarce. I think our captors knew that we were aware of what was happening and stepped up their searches for the radio.

One day in July a group of us were out on the hillside collecting pit props to take down to the valley, when I noticed rows of railway trucks loaded with iron ore standing idle at the sidings near the mine, an unusual sight as they were normally taken away as soon as a train load was assembled. That afternoon as we worked, I heard a place and gazing up, saw it was a four engine plane. I did not know of a Japanese one with four engines and knew it must be an American bomber and by its size it was clear that long range was possible. We watched as it approached and flew round before disappearing, minutes later he was back again for another look round before flying away. There had been no anti-aircraft nor appearance of Japanese fighters. Our foreman and the woodcutter watched with us and when it had gone out of sight, one asked if it was American, this was affirmed. My guess was that he had come for a look round, the next time no doubt would be a raid, the obvious targets being the blast furnaces and iron ore works at Kamaishi, a seaport and industrial town about fifteen kilometres away.

Work resumed in the mine the next day, we carried on as usual, it was still maximum output, the truck loads were now being moved on once again. Whilst at work, we were discussing the plane and what we had seen. I drew a rough outline of the shape of the plane with some black soot from the miners lamp, on the side of the iron ore truck. It was Hai San’s shift, he saw us talking and came over, looked at the rough sketch and asked “who drew that?”. Expecting trouble, I replied that I had. He then asked if I could draw a Japanese plane for him on paper, I said I wasn’t that brilliant but could do it.

Next day he presented me with a sheet of paper and pencil and asked me to draw the plane with no markings, he promised me my workmates would not have to make up my sixteen ton quota of iron ore, so I set to and drew him a plane. This he seemed very leased with and promised to reward me with more rice cakes. Three days later he gave me the news that his son had put Japanese markings on the drawing and had taken it to school, he was now number one pupil. So for a few days I was supplemented with rice cakes which I ate at work, saving a little of my rice for the night time snack.

The mine seemed to have run out of good ore and we were having to work in areas that had been worked out previously, where large walls of rock were supporting the roofs. In earlier workings the amount of ore taken out was equivalent to the amount left so as to support the mine, this amount was now being drastically reduced.
 

21: Beans, Quarry Work and an American Bomber – Part 1.

I had never liked working in the mine although it was an improvement on the dockyard at Hakodate, and wondered if I could possibly swap jobs with someone, our captors didn’t seem to mind, providing the mine had its full shift. Others had made a change over by saying they were giving their friends who were unwell a break. If the replacement worked well, there were no problems.

Suddenly the late shift at the mine was halted and we were now put on a day shift, leaving the camp in the morning just before the other daytime workers. I asked Sakata why the change, he said there was stealing in Ohasi and the mine working prisoners were getting the blame. It was not food that was going missing and he suspected it was the Koreans who were the culprits. I was unable to find out what was being stolen, or indeed, if there was any truth in it.

There was another thorough search of the building just as we were having our evening meal, it seemed that some of the prisoners working in the mine workshops had been too happy and the Japanese workers rather glum.

The Chinese camp now seemed pretty full and as we passed by, I could see a mound of earth had been built up which looked very similar to a volcano crater with a large fire in the centre, into which I saw two bodies being thrown. I surmised there must have been many deaths to need a fire that size.

Spring had arrived, the weather pleasant and were were still receiving our rice balls daily at the mine.

One advantage of working a day shift, was being able to go to and from work in the daylight after spending so many hours in the darkness of the mine. When working the late shift we still had to be up early with the day workers for roll call, the wood collecting had to be done before our shift, but now that we were on a day shift this task had to be done when we arrived back at camp and before evening meal.

Our diet was also being changed, sometimes there was barley mixed in with the rice, later, a third of the rice was replaced with soya beans mixed with our remaining ration. These beans were hard and went sour if not eaten straight away. The small pieces of fish that we had on occasions was also pretty scarce. Hungry as we were, we found even more unpalatable now. The beans began to cause stomach upsets and some of the men started to suffer diarrhoea, so the cookhouse agreed to cook and serve the beans separately from the rice. Some tried to trade their beans for rice, if successful, the price would be one measure of rice for three of beans. I was fortunate that I was able to eat the beans with no ill effect.

Remembering Hakodate and how the dysentery started, I took extra care with my food dishes and ate my beans separately before the rest of the meal. To starve off the hunger, some were saving a little of their daytime meal and consuming it very slowly in bed before trying to sleep. I tried for a time keeping a quarter of my breakfast and lunch so I had a reasonable sized meal at night, but found it hard to keep to when I was still feeling so hungry. The very real problem was that we were all starving, when I retired for the night and had time to think, all that filled my mind was food. There soon became a surplus of beans, some of the men couldn’t eat any without having problems, but I was managing to stomach them and at times ate extra that were offered to me. Eventually the Lieutenant, our go between was sent over to the Jap building to complain and was hit on the head with a shovel for his pains and told “No beans that night and any more complaints, no beans at all”.

I thought this a good time to try and get out of working in the mine, with a surplus of beans and to anyone not able to stomach them, the daily rice ball at the mine must have been quite an incentive. One evening I spoke to a chat who worked in the limestone quarry, it was a similar type of work to what we did in the mine, the limestone rock being blasted out, picked up and loaded into trucks, taken I understand to purify the iron ore in the blast furnaces. I had been working in the mine for two years now and really did feel in need of a break.

The rice ball was what we craved more than anything else, so we agreed on the story that I was feeling unwell and he was taking my place in the mine until I was better. This he told to the mine authorities and I to the limestone quarry management. We did the change over after the next rest day of our ten day week. I liked working in the quarry, it was sunny and I was out in the open air with no weight target to reach and the truck loads we had to push were much smaller, but during working hours there was no let up, we were hustled continuously. There was no rest in the mine either except when the foreman was out of sight.

I now enjoyed a smoke break of ten minutes, morning, afternoon and at lunchtime, it was a pleasure to be able to sit in the sun to eat my meal, to relax and feel the fresh air and not someone breathing down my neck. I felt free for a time, this was one of life’s normally taken for granted pleasures that had been denied me for so long and was greatly missed.
 

20: Honourable Men and Rice Cakes – Part 2.

Christmas day 1944 arrived and gratefully we each received an American Red Cross parcel, we also had oat free rice that day. One of the mine officials entered our hut bringing with him a wind up gramaphone together with two records. I remember the two tunes, ‘Don’t sit under the apple tree’ was one, the other ‘Row, Row, Row’. Those two records were played continuously the whole day.

The official said his name was the equivalent of Smith in English, he also informed us that he was the mines official photographer and would like to take photos of us when the weather improved and if good enough, they would be printed in the Japanese newspapers, showing us to be fit and healthy cared for prisoners. The war with Japan had been going on now for three years, I felt that far more was happening that we knew.

The searches in camp were stepped up, our meagre possessions, even little odds and ends were inspected and turned over.

I wasn’t aware at the time, but heard later, that the closest they came to finding the radio was as the guards burst in at one end of the hut, it was being carried out the other end in a rice tub.

I felt our long imprisonment must end soon although at the time, we had seen no sign of allied planes.

About two hundred Canadian soldiers had been moved into the new hut that had been erected in our camp, they were mostly put to work in another level of the mine, a few of them on various other jobs. Therese men had been moved from a camp to the south, I believe, and did tell us they had seen American bombers.

The new camp for Chinese prisoners had been completed and was now being occupied, I never say any of these men at work.

Another man died in our hut, he was American and had given up. He had been suffering from vitamin deficiency and swollen up with excess fluid, he never went to work. There were four other similar cases who survived the war so it wasn’t a fatal illness. The dead man was cremated on an open fire on a piece of open ground outside the camp. He was laid on a pile of wood which was ignited and fed with more wood until completely incinerated. The next day before the afternoon shift, I was detailed with three others to clear the ground where the cremation had taken place. As we raked the ashes level, there were still small pieces of bone amidst the wood ash, but this didn’t upset us in any way, we had seen so much suffering and cruelty that our whole attitude to life and death had drastically changed over the last three years. It was simply as if we were raking the ground ready for planting.

More rumours of a radio in camp abounded and we heard the Americans were said to be recapturing islands and approaching Japan. Sakata said to me “The war will be over this year”, I fervently hoped he was right.

At camp we had a change of Commandant and the permanent staff. We hardly ever saw the old Commandant, except for when he was required for official duties to read out new orders to us prisoners. I wondered how we would far with the new one.

The iron ore at our level in the mine was running into a bad seam and was producing more slate than iron ore. This made work easier as the slate was much lighter in weight. More equipment was being transported to the mine, ready to make a start on another rock face in another direction. Pulling the loaded equipment into the mine were tractor type vehicles with low cabs and wheels that ran on the train lines, these were powered by the American and British truck engines that I’d seen in the hold of the ‘Dia Nicchi Maru’ on that never to be forgotten sea voyage to Japan.

There were days at the mine when we had to go out onto the mountain side to drag logs down to the valley floor where they were picked up and transported into the mine by train; these were used as pit props.

I remember on one of these occasions one of the wood cutters told us to have a break and produced a snake about four feet in length that he had killed, skinned and cleaned. He said that it was good to eat, lit a fire then proceeded to cut the snake into chunks, then placing a small metal sheet on the fire roasted the chunks on top. He then shared it between us prisoners not having any himself, it tasted rather like port. I’m sure he did this because he realised we were half starved. Looking back it is good to remember the humane as well as the brutal treatment we experienced.

It was pleasant to be working in the open in daylight at times, in contrasts to the darkness of the mine each day and then walking back to camp in the dark. I think we were mainly put to work outside when they were endeavouring to find new seams of iron ore for us to work on. So, after a couple of days we were back in the mine.

One one bright sunny day as we left the hut to form up for work, ‘Smith’ the mine official cum photographer, was waiting. He informed us he was going to take some photos to show the Red Cross so they could see we were being well treated, also they would be in the local paper showing the work we were doing. The official that carried a clipboard was also present and included in the photos. He, I believe, kept an account of how many prisoners were employed in the mine each day and was known to us as ‘Ori San’. He wore a Hitler moustache and, I thought, resembled a cross between Hitler and a Gorilla. We often joked at his expense, but he was amiable and one of the very few Jap’s that I actually heard laugh.
 

20: Honourable Men and Rice Cakes – Part 1.

Christmas 1944 was approaching and things seemed to be changing, some guards seemed more friendly, others more sullen and brutal if given an excuse. We heard that the war was going well for the Allies. Rice seemed to be getting scarce, so we were now having a mixture of oats and rice which wasn't very palatable, but still received our rice ball at the mine.

A new P.O.W. hut was being built in our camp about the same size as the one we were housed in. Also, past the village of Ohasi on the way to the mine, another large camp was under construction. Sakata told me it was for Chinese prisoners, who would possibly be put to work improving the roads.

During one meal time, I was asked to take over dishing out the soup. I hesitated at first, remembering how I had been accused of being unfair with the rice and then thought to myself that they were all just like me. Hungry men with not enough food inside them. There had to be a change now and again to ease the tension, so I agreed to take the job on. If there was an uneven number of solid bits in the soup, there was no need for me to remember whose turn it was to have an extra lump. I would just ask who had three pieces and who had two the last time. I was never asked to step down from that job and kept it to the end.

Late in 1944, the regular army guards were reduced in number and were replaced by the Japanese equivalent of the home guard, who took over many of the guard duties. They were old soldiers who had been slightly wounded, we called them ‘Honourable Men’. There was one of them to each mine level party, so instead of one guard accompanying us all to and from work as before there were now three. Being old soldiers they new all the tricks. One evening they brought some sacks of satsumas into the hut to sell. I had very little money, but was able to purchase thirty three and managed to consume them over three days, including the peel.

The greatest benefit of having these ‘Honourable Men’ as guards, was when there was to be a search. One of them would come charging through the hut shouting “Search, search, search”, and then ask if anyone had anything he could look after whilst the search was being executed. Of course he wanted to see what we had and then come back later offering to buy whatever we had worth purchasing. The RAF blue pullovers were in great demand, so the old guards would wear them under their uniform until after the search and then come bargaining, there was quite a good market for them apparently. Of course we know it was the radio that the search was all about.

The foremen at the time soon got to know about these blue pullovers by talking to our new escort. At work one day, foreman Hai San approached me and asked if I was in the RAF which I affirmed, and if I had a blue pullover. I told him the only piece of the RAF clothing I had was my blue jacket. He told me to bring it to work and if it was of any use, he would buy it. I could not use it, we had only been allowed to wear the Japanese issue of clothing since arriving in this country. So next day I took it to the mine, but after looking at it, Hai San said it was of no use to him he wouldn’t be able to wear it under his jacket like a pullover but perhaps his wife might be able to make something from it for his little son. Hai San’s wife said she would be able to make some trousers from it, so agreed a price of thirty rice cakes. I asked for five a day to make them last as long as was possible, the pay off to start the following day. The cakes were one and a half inches wide, five inches long and half inch thick and were made of rice flour and sugar. Next morning Hai San said he had my cakes and I was to collect them at dinner break, his wife had given him ten, five was too small a batch to bake. I was a little disappointed and ate five after my dinner deciding to chance taking the other five back to camp.

Searches at night were not so frequent now, so put them in my side pack under my rice box, as at times we had to remove and open the box for inspection. As we marched into the gate that night past the guardhouse, I noticed the Sergeant of the guard standing watching us. The guardhouse being three feet higher than the square, he was able to watch the guards search us. The guards had formed us up ready on the square when the Sergeant called out to him, and proceeded to do the search himself. As he walked along the line I noticed he wasn’t looking for rice boxes, but telling each man to remove his box and looking in the bag instead.

My turn came, so I removed my rice box, he looked into the bag, then thrusting his hand in pulled out my five rice cakes and asked, “Where did you get these?”. I was trying to think of a plausible answer when he said “You have stolen them from a Japanese man’s dinner box”. Stealing was a bad offence, a crime and selling to a Japanese wasn’t very favourable either. I told him my foreman had given them to me for being a good worker, he looked at me and said “No stealing, what was the foreman’s name?” “Hai San” I replied. He then kept repeating “Good worker” as if it was a huge joke. When he stopped he screwed the five cakes into a ball and hurled them on the ground as hard as he could, then followed this by jumping up and down on them until they were flattened out. He then picked them up pushing them into my face before hurling them to the ground once again. His fury spent, he calmed down pointing to the jailhouse and told me, “Do that tomorrow and you’re in jail.” Hai San didn’t mention it, whether he had been made aware, I do not know but he paid off his debt with two more batches of ten rice cakes, which needless to say, I ate at dinner break, leaving some of my dinner rice at camp for a midnight snack.