By now my shoes were wearing out rather rapidly. When we left Singapore in a hurry, I was unfortunately wearing my walking out shoes, which were allowed in the operation room. Most of the airmen were wearing their rubber soled boots which were far more durable. I had been putting anything and everything I could find, to put inside to block the holes in the soles, but now they were completely gone, I was left with just uppers. I had previously spoken to our N.C.O. about my predicament but he had told me no footwear was available.
That evening I showed him what was left of my shoes and told him I could not possibly wear them any longer, to which he agreed. He said he would see if anything could be done about it. He returned about half an hour later with a pair of Javanese army boots, size six, I wore size eight and a half to nine. They were made of green canvas with a stitched on leather heel, toe cap and laced up front. The N.C.O. said it was best he could do and suggested that I cut the toecaps off, which I did. They were far from comfortable, as too much of my food was poking out, but decided I would have to wear them or nothing the next day.
The march to work was agonising, my toes were cut and battered by the sharp stones, I tried in vain to walk holding my toes in the air. At work I cut the heels out of the boots, hoping I could distribute my feet better with less hangover at the front, but didn't seem to improve matters. I walked and worked in these for days until my toes were just one bloody mess, no skin was left under the toes and the tops were split open and full of dirt and dust.
I had to go to the M.O. eventually to see if I could be excused work. Fortunately there were not too many off sick at that time, there were a few men swollen up and suffering from Beri Beri and some cases of dysentery, so he said he would do his best and try and get me off. I wen to work the following day and was told that evening I was to work in the prison garden until my feet had healed, or until I could be supplied with some other footwear.
Next morning together with the other workers, about ten of us, we left the prison accompanied by one guard and reported for work in the garden which was about half an acre of fenced in land behind the prison which reached to the river, the Javanese huts being on the opposite bank. The first job given to me was a sit down one. I had to cut the spines from coconut palm fronts which I then bound together, making brooms for the prison use. I was allowed to make one for our cell. By the time I had made enough brooms my toes had started to heal, the wounds and gashes knitting together. I was then put to work in the growing area.
Growing in the garden were tomatoes, papayas, bananas and some root crops but no potatoes, which I understand had been tried but without success. The tomato plants apparently had started to grow after someone in the prison had eaten some tinned tomatoes in his possession, and the seed has passed through him into the toilet channel This passed through the garden on its way to the river, the see had germinated in the earth at the sides of the channel in the garden. Someone had recognised the plants, replanted them and they were now flourishing, and from that beginning we sometimes had tomato added to our soup.
The memoirs of a Japanese prisoner of The Second World War 1942-1945. By Frank Planton.
Friday, 25 February 2011
Friday, 18 February 2011
8: Almost Death By Sword, A Lucky Escape - Part 2.
The work on the runways after four months of hard labour was beginning to show signs of completion. Some prisoners were put to mixing and laying cement to level off to the existing runway. We had been running out of material to fill the holes, so lorry loads of earth and rubble had been brought in to top up the holes. There were no tools for compacting this filling, so consequently when put to use and heavy trucks were driven on it, the runway would sink. This boded ill for the men on this particular job, they were rounded up and beaten, being accused of trying to crash Japanese planes as they landed.
The job seemed never ending, we had no news of outside events or how the war was progressing and realised there was a small possibility of us being rescued. Rules had relaxed a little by now. There was a general leisurely attitude and confidence about the Japanese soldiers and no air raid precautions that we knew of. Permission was given for us to have concerts in the yard, arranged by the prisoners. Some of the Army chaps formed a band, some sung and others did sketches and of course there were a lot of coarse jokes. Some of the prison staff watched with amusement and it helped to brighten up our days.
We had been imprisoned for about five months when our names, rank and number were taken, we were told our details were being forwarded to the Red Cross so that we could be reported as P.O.W’s. I was young and single and didn't have the worries as those with families had, which made it easier to deal with the present predicament. I knew that if I hadn't been taken prisoner, I could have been dead long before a letter reached home with the news. Our cigar ration ceased and in its place was the occasional use of tobacco. This was pretty awful stuff that hadn't been properly processed. Our guess was that the factory's supply of cigarettes and cigars had run out and we were now being given the remaining stock of tobacco.
As work once again, as we were being detailed off for our holes, two of the Japanese soldiers spoke to our guards, I was pointed out and told to go with them. I was marched between them feeling some trepidation, as we went towards the large open spaces of the airport perimeter. After a while we halted and I was told to pick up a coil of wire and canvas bag which was lying on the ground, we then continued on our way until the boundary fence was reached. The guards then sat down and motioned for me to sit, telling me I could smoke. I didn't carry any with me to work, saving it for when I laid down on the gravel in the yard wrapped in my blanket each night, when I endeavoured to forget my sore and aching body and stem the gnawing hunger pains. The cigarettes helped me relax as I dreamed of food, fried bacon, delicious food before falling to sleep from exhaustion. When I didn't respond and light up, one of the soldiers asked did I have any cigarettes, I told him no, so he gave me one.
After a rest I was given a pair of pliers taken from the canvas bag, a coil of wire and told to repair a large hole that had been cut in the surrounding chain link fence. As they sat watching, I made as good a job as was possible which seemed to please them. I was then given another rest and another smoke and couldn't believe my luck. We then moved to a smaller hole which I also set to and repaired, then it was meal time. We sat down and a small fish was produced from the bag and given to me to eat with my rice. I drank my water as they collected bits of wood and lit a fire, on which they brewed themselves a tea. We had some talk with signs and gestures and a little of our own language thrown in. Nearby were some goats grazing, for which I suspect the Javanese had cut the wire. One of the soldiers took his metal cup and fitted his water bottle and milked one of the goats, he then mixed in some sugar and placed it on the fire to warm, he then gave it to me telling me it would do me good.
After repairing two more holes, we sat back until it was time for them to take me back to join the main party for the march back to prison. Coming back down to earth next day, the hard labour of filling the bomb holes continued. One runway was now completed and in use, but there was very little air activity, which indicated that no offensive was being launched by either side, so we had no fears of being bombed or attacked whilst at work.
The job seemed never ending, we had no news of outside events or how the war was progressing and realised there was a small possibility of us being rescued. Rules had relaxed a little by now. There was a general leisurely attitude and confidence about the Japanese soldiers and no air raid precautions that we knew of. Permission was given for us to have concerts in the yard, arranged by the prisoners. Some of the Army chaps formed a band, some sung and others did sketches and of course there were a lot of coarse jokes. Some of the prison staff watched with amusement and it helped to brighten up our days.
We had been imprisoned for about five months when our names, rank and number were taken, we were told our details were being forwarded to the Red Cross so that we could be reported as P.O.W’s. I was young and single and didn't have the worries as those with families had, which made it easier to deal with the present predicament. I knew that if I hadn't been taken prisoner, I could have been dead long before a letter reached home with the news. Our cigar ration ceased and in its place was the occasional use of tobacco. This was pretty awful stuff that hadn't been properly processed. Our guess was that the factory's supply of cigarettes and cigars had run out and we were now being given the remaining stock of tobacco.
As work once again, as we were being detailed off for our holes, two of the Japanese soldiers spoke to our guards, I was pointed out and told to go with them. I was marched between them feeling some trepidation, as we went towards the large open spaces of the airport perimeter. After a while we halted and I was told to pick up a coil of wire and canvas bag which was lying on the ground, we then continued on our way until the boundary fence was reached. The guards then sat down and motioned for me to sit, telling me I could smoke. I didn't carry any with me to work, saving it for when I laid down on the gravel in the yard wrapped in my blanket each night, when I endeavoured to forget my sore and aching body and stem the gnawing hunger pains. The cigarettes helped me relax as I dreamed of food, fried bacon, delicious food before falling to sleep from exhaustion. When I didn't respond and light up, one of the soldiers asked did I have any cigarettes, I told him no, so he gave me one.
After a rest I was given a pair of pliers taken from the canvas bag, a coil of wire and told to repair a large hole that had been cut in the surrounding chain link fence. As they sat watching, I made as good a job as was possible which seemed to please them. I was then given another rest and another smoke and couldn't believe my luck. We then moved to a smaller hole which I also set to and repaired, then it was meal time. We sat down and a small fish was produced from the bag and given to me to eat with my rice. I drank my water as they collected bits of wood and lit a fire, on which they brewed themselves a tea. We had some talk with signs and gestures and a little of our own language thrown in. Nearby were some goats grazing, for which I suspect the Javanese had cut the wire. One of the soldiers took his metal cup and fitted his water bottle and milked one of the goats, he then mixed in some sugar and placed it on the fire to warm, he then gave it to me telling me it would do me good.
After repairing two more holes, we sat back until it was time for them to take me back to join the main party for the march back to prison. Coming back down to earth next day, the hard labour of filling the bomb holes continued. One runway was now completed and in use, but there was very little air activity, which indicated that no offensive was being launched by either side, so we had no fears of being bombed or attacked whilst at work.
Friday, 11 February 2011
8: Almost Death By Sword, A Lucky Escape - Part 1.
On our way to and from the airport we marched along a narrow gravel road to where we crossed a railway line at a level crossing. The trains that ran on this line were electric powered by overhead cable, not unlike our suburban trains at home.
On either side of the gravel road was a twenty feet wide grass verge which bordered a plantation of coconut palms.
One evening, on our way back to camp we were halted, a train was due. Where I had stopped, close by was a Javanese with his push tea-stall selling cakes and biscuits. The train hadn't yet arrived, I was starving hungry as always, and, having my Dutch guilders with me, decided to take a chance, leaving the ranks to buy some cakes, hoping to get back in line before any of the guards saw me.
When I arrived at his stall the Javanese trader seemed frightened and made no attempt to serve me. I pointed to the cakes behind the glass showing him my money, when I heard calls from the ranks, “Get back, they're coming”, I moved quickly with a glance as I went and saw one of the guards running towards me. I resumed my position in the ranks just before he reached me. He stopped and motioned for someone to move out, I was well aware of the collective punishment handed out if I didn't move, so stepped out onto the verge.
A Sergeant arrived and spoke to the guard, I was then moved further on to the verge so that I was in full view of the whole column of prisoners, presumably so they could witness my punishment. I had not, so far, received any of the anticipated blows which seemed most unusual.
Next, the Japanese Officer-in-charge came along. The Sergeant called me to attention in front of the Officer, who then began to speak to me in Japanese and by the tone of his voice, I knew it was a reprimand. This was the first time since the start of my captivity that I had been, or had witnessed a formal lecture being given. Usually, there was a shout then blows from a rifle butt, kicking and punching. I was wondering, was I being given notice of a court martial?
Honour and trust was valued highly by the Japanese and I began to think I had insulted the Officer-in-charge by leaving the ranks. I had no idea what he was saying, my only course was to look him straight in the eyes as I received his verbal abuse. His tone became more agitated as he worked himself into a frenzy. I prepared myself for the blows that were sure to follow as his rage increased. I knew a formal charge wasn't going to happen now, he was just another Japanese about to launch into another kicking and punching frenzy.
Suddenly, in one swift movement, he unsheathed his two-handed Samurai sword and raised it with both hands above his head. I managed to retain my steady gaze, keeping eye contact. My thoughts were, ‘So this is the end, at the side of a Javanese road, I wonder if it will hurt, will it need two blows?’ We stared at each other in silence, my next thought was, ‘This is not a very brave thing to do, chopping down an unarmed man’, trying to convey these thoughts to him with my eyes.
I do not know how long we stood thus, there was plenty of time for my thoughts as the silence continued. Suddenly he moved, slowly lowering the sharp edge of the sword onto my shoulder and stopped, then gently slid it off towards him, replacing it in its sheath. Perhaps he intended to cut through my shirt to show me what I had narrowly missed, but this was intact when I examined it later.
He then spoke calmly, wagging his finger in front of my face, and by the tone of his voice, I could only assume the message was “Don't do that again, or else”, which I didn't ever intend to. I was just thankful that my head was still firmly fixed to my body. He then motioned for me to rejoin the ranks.
Afterwards, I pondered over my narrow escape and wondered, was it because I looked him straight in the eye, did my thoughts reach him, was I honourable because I never moved the whole time and remained standing to attention? The answer I will never know. The Japanese were certainly very strange people. I felt sorry for the Javanese trader who I had involved. He had panicked and ran off when the he saw the guards coming after me. They had called on him to stop, but he had kept on running, so some shots had been fired. I think he reached the palm trees safely, so he may have got away. His tea and cake stall was overturned by the guards, the glass broken and the contents kicked about. A high price to pay by an innocent man.
When we moved off there were a lot of comments and questions from my fellow prisoners. “Was I frightened?”, “Did my past flash before me?” and comments such as “You were lucky”, “That was close” and “You won't do that again in a hurry”.
I had to agree, it had certainly been a close thing. I did wonder if, when we reached the prison, I would be taken for punishment, but fortunately not, as I had been dealt with on the spot by an officer. Next day, as we passed the spot I looked for the wrecked stall, it had completely disappeared, reclaimed later for repair I hope.
On either side of the gravel road was a twenty feet wide grass verge which bordered a plantation of coconut palms.
One evening, on our way back to camp we were halted, a train was due. Where I had stopped, close by was a Javanese with his push tea-stall selling cakes and biscuits. The train hadn't yet arrived, I was starving hungry as always, and, having my Dutch guilders with me, decided to take a chance, leaving the ranks to buy some cakes, hoping to get back in line before any of the guards saw me.
When I arrived at his stall the Javanese trader seemed frightened and made no attempt to serve me. I pointed to the cakes behind the glass showing him my money, when I heard calls from the ranks, “Get back, they're coming”, I moved quickly with a glance as I went and saw one of the guards running towards me. I resumed my position in the ranks just before he reached me. He stopped and motioned for someone to move out, I was well aware of the collective punishment handed out if I didn't move, so stepped out onto the verge.
A Sergeant arrived and spoke to the guard, I was then moved further on to the verge so that I was in full view of the whole column of prisoners, presumably so they could witness my punishment. I had not, so far, received any of the anticipated blows which seemed most unusual.
Next, the Japanese Officer-in-charge came along. The Sergeant called me to attention in front of the Officer, who then began to speak to me in Japanese and by the tone of his voice, I knew it was a reprimand. This was the first time since the start of my captivity that I had been, or had witnessed a formal lecture being given. Usually, there was a shout then blows from a rifle butt, kicking and punching. I was wondering, was I being given notice of a court martial?
Honour and trust was valued highly by the Japanese and I began to think I had insulted the Officer-in-charge by leaving the ranks. I had no idea what he was saying, my only course was to look him straight in the eyes as I received his verbal abuse. His tone became more agitated as he worked himself into a frenzy. I prepared myself for the blows that were sure to follow as his rage increased. I knew a formal charge wasn't going to happen now, he was just another Japanese about to launch into another kicking and punching frenzy.
Suddenly, in one swift movement, he unsheathed his two-handed Samurai sword and raised it with both hands above his head. I managed to retain my steady gaze, keeping eye contact. My thoughts were, ‘So this is the end, at the side of a Javanese road, I wonder if it will hurt, will it need two blows?’ We stared at each other in silence, my next thought was, ‘This is not a very brave thing to do, chopping down an unarmed man’, trying to convey these thoughts to him with my eyes.
I do not know how long we stood thus, there was plenty of time for my thoughts as the silence continued. Suddenly he moved, slowly lowering the sharp edge of the sword onto my shoulder and stopped, then gently slid it off towards him, replacing it in its sheath. Perhaps he intended to cut through my shirt to show me what I had narrowly missed, but this was intact when I examined it later.
He then spoke calmly, wagging his finger in front of my face, and by the tone of his voice, I could only assume the message was “Don't do that again, or else”, which I didn't ever intend to. I was just thankful that my head was still firmly fixed to my body. He then motioned for me to rejoin the ranks.
Afterwards, I pondered over my narrow escape and wondered, was it because I looked him straight in the eye, did my thoughts reach him, was I honourable because I never moved the whole time and remained standing to attention? The answer I will never know. The Japanese were certainly very strange people. I felt sorry for the Javanese trader who I had involved. He had panicked and ran off when the he saw the guards coming after me. They had called on him to stop, but he had kept on running, so some shots had been fired. I think he reached the palm trees safely, so he may have got away. His tea and cake stall was overturned by the guards, the glass broken and the contents kicked about. A high price to pay by an innocent man.
When we moved off there were a lot of comments and questions from my fellow prisoners. “Was I frightened?”, “Did my past flash before me?” and comments such as “You were lucky”, “That was close” and “You won't do that again in a hurry”.
I had to agree, it had certainly been a close thing. I did wonder if, when we reached the prison, I would be taken for punishment, but fortunately not, as I had been dealt with on the spot by an officer. Next day, as we passed the spot I looked for the wrecked stall, it had completely disappeared, reclaimed later for repair I hope.
Friday, 4 February 2011
7: Hard Labour, Batavia Airfield - Part 2.
It was clear that our captors were striving to bring the airfield we were working at up to operational use and that we were the only prisoners available at that time to do the work. My own thoughts at the time were to wonder whether the urgency was because they intended to strike at the surrounding islands from there.
Each night after roll call in the cell, I'd take my blanket outside and lay watching the tops of the waving palms that grew the other side of the prison wall and think of the wonderful world out there, it was the only time of day I felt at peace. My other thoughts were mainly of food, good food, lovely meals and to feel free. The first man to die in the camp was an airman, a muscular man who had given demonstrations on muscle control as entertainment on the troopship coming from England to Singapore. We were stunned that such a superbly fit man should die. Other deaths followed, some from dysentery, others just seemed to lose the will to live. The sick bay was situated in the Army part of the camp and as most deaths and burials took place whilst we were at work, we were unaware of just how many occurred unless they were actually from our cell.
We never waited around in our cells for the guards to come for us in the morning if we could help it, it was not that we were keen to get to work, but anxious to avoid the digs from their rifles and blows from the butts, so we would be ready and waiting in the yard. Several mornings as I sat waiting, I notice one of the Army chaps who looked familiar but never gave any sign that he recognised me. I was sure I had met him and that he was from Tilbury in Essex. One morning I tried to chat but he didn't speak another word. I'd never seen anyone look so unhappy. His friend said he was not feeling too well, so I left him be At a later date I saw his friend alone who tole me the chaps wife had written to him saying she was going to live with another man. He had received the letter just before being captured. A few weeks alter I was told he had died.
One night an Australian aircrew of three men escaped from the prison and managed to reach the airfield, they were captured as they attempted to ready a plane for flight, all were shot the following day. Several men who had slept next to and near the escapees were taken from their cell and put in a detention camp for two weeks, where they were badly treated and given just one meal a day. Their crime was that they had not reported that their companions were planning to escape. There were no further attempts after that, as we were told in future it would not be detention camp but the firing squad, they knowing that we would not leave our pals to suffer the penalty for us.
Some of the prisoners, including myself, began to get sweat rash around our groin, it was probably something to do with our bad diet. The M.O. had nothing with which to treat us so it steadily became worse. It was not caused by un-cleanliness, as we now had the wash cubicles which we used regularly. I had an area of around six inches down the inside of each leg that had turned red raw, my scrotum had lost all of its skin and oozed a clear liquid. This made me very uncomfortable, especially at work, so I tore up a worn shirt and tied it to my belt from and rear to help prevent the chafing. Our M.O. eventually came up with a cure. We were to urinate into a tin and then bathe the affected parts with urine. It took time, but gradually healed. Any sign of it starting up again, we immediately started the treatment. It was about this time we began receiving the occasional packet of cigarettes.
Marching to work one day, we were stopped outside what had been a Dutch Army barracks. An officer asked if any of us knew anything about painting. Five men, including myself, put our hands up. I was chosen and taken inside to the kitchen area by a Japanese soldier where there was a huge dresser, a pot of paint and a brush. I looked at the dresser and decided it needed cleaning before it could be painted. When the soldier who had left returned, I pointed out what needed to be done, so off he went and returned with a bucket and cleaning rags. I then carried on with the work with occasional visits from my soldier guard.
Just before midday he came and asked where I was from, I told him England. He then pulled from his pocket a postcard size photo of a Japanese girl about to be raped by Uncle Sam with John Bull holding her down. I didn't know quite what to say, his gaze watching my face intently as he awaited my answer. He then pointed to me and said “You Japan”, I told him we didn't do things like that and pointed out that both Uncle Sam and John Bull in the photo both had slanted eyes. With signs and gestures, we both agreed we were members of our country's armed forces and enemies. He then told me to stop work and have my meal. I then washed my hands in preparation to eat. My soldier returned once again and asked to see my food. He then waved his hand over it and told me not to eat it. He once again disappeared and on the return, brought me a cooked dinner of meat, green beans and rice on a plate. What a feast! It was unbelievable to be sitting at a table eating a good meal and feeling like a human being again.
He was a young soldier who I thought must have come from Japan for the invasion of Java and as the Dutch has capitulated, had had no experience of fighting or seen any bloodshed. When I finished work that day, I asked if I would be needed next day, to which he nodded yes. My sank as we continued to march past without halting the following morning. The guards at the camp who changed monthly, were entirely different and hardened species. We were forced to stop and bow to them as they walked around the yard and stand up and bow when they entered our cells. Out of the ratio of five guards, one would be a brute who would look out for any excuse to beat or club one of us with his rifle, one to be avoided at all costs, the remaining four not quite so sadistic but needed to be treated with caution.
One day a civilian was brought into camp who was said to be a Swiss naturalist captured in the jungle. It wasn't long before he was helping out in the cookhouse saying he could improve our diet using the plants that were plentiful and growing locally. There seemed to be an improvement in our soup on occasions, but it wasn't to last as he was moved from camp after three weeks. I read after the war that it was Laurens Van Der Post, who had probably been spying for the allies.
Whilst working at the airfield, if near the perimeter fence, Javanese would come with bananas and other fruit and offer to sell to the prisoners at outrageous prices, the guards on odd occasions would allow this. I had some genuine Dutch Guilders but Japanese currency of occupation was now in use. We were now being paid a small amount of cash, I used mine to buy razor blades, toothpaste and soap at the camp, which was awfully poor quality stuff but better than none. The person in charge of our cell would be called to the main building and handed our pay with the goods to sell. There was never sufficient cash to buy all three items at once, so always had to decided which I needed most. The cigarette issue had been stopped and we were now given three small cigars on the odd occasion.
Each night after roll call in the cell, I'd take my blanket outside and lay watching the tops of the waving palms that grew the other side of the prison wall and think of the wonderful world out there, it was the only time of day I felt at peace. My other thoughts were mainly of food, good food, lovely meals and to feel free. The first man to die in the camp was an airman, a muscular man who had given demonstrations on muscle control as entertainment on the troopship coming from England to Singapore. We were stunned that such a superbly fit man should die. Other deaths followed, some from dysentery, others just seemed to lose the will to live. The sick bay was situated in the Army part of the camp and as most deaths and burials took place whilst we were at work, we were unaware of just how many occurred unless they were actually from our cell.
We never waited around in our cells for the guards to come for us in the morning if we could help it, it was not that we were keen to get to work, but anxious to avoid the digs from their rifles and blows from the butts, so we would be ready and waiting in the yard. Several mornings as I sat waiting, I notice one of the Army chaps who looked familiar but never gave any sign that he recognised me. I was sure I had met him and that he was from Tilbury in Essex. One morning I tried to chat but he didn't speak another word. I'd never seen anyone look so unhappy. His friend said he was not feeling too well, so I left him be At a later date I saw his friend alone who tole me the chaps wife had written to him saying she was going to live with another man. He had received the letter just before being captured. A few weeks alter I was told he had died.
One night an Australian aircrew of three men escaped from the prison and managed to reach the airfield, they were captured as they attempted to ready a plane for flight, all were shot the following day. Several men who had slept next to and near the escapees were taken from their cell and put in a detention camp for two weeks, where they were badly treated and given just one meal a day. Their crime was that they had not reported that their companions were planning to escape. There were no further attempts after that, as we were told in future it would not be detention camp but the firing squad, they knowing that we would not leave our pals to suffer the penalty for us.
Some of the prisoners, including myself, began to get sweat rash around our groin, it was probably something to do with our bad diet. The M.O. had nothing with which to treat us so it steadily became worse. It was not caused by un-cleanliness, as we now had the wash cubicles which we used regularly. I had an area of around six inches down the inside of each leg that had turned red raw, my scrotum had lost all of its skin and oozed a clear liquid. This made me very uncomfortable, especially at work, so I tore up a worn shirt and tied it to my belt from and rear to help prevent the chafing. Our M.O. eventually came up with a cure. We were to urinate into a tin and then bathe the affected parts with urine. It took time, but gradually healed. Any sign of it starting up again, we immediately started the treatment. It was about this time we began receiving the occasional packet of cigarettes.
Marching to work one day, we were stopped outside what had been a Dutch Army barracks. An officer asked if any of us knew anything about painting. Five men, including myself, put our hands up. I was chosen and taken inside to the kitchen area by a Japanese soldier where there was a huge dresser, a pot of paint and a brush. I looked at the dresser and decided it needed cleaning before it could be painted. When the soldier who had left returned, I pointed out what needed to be done, so off he went and returned with a bucket and cleaning rags. I then carried on with the work with occasional visits from my soldier guard.
Just before midday he came and asked where I was from, I told him England. He then pulled from his pocket a postcard size photo of a Japanese girl about to be raped by Uncle Sam with John Bull holding her down. I didn't know quite what to say, his gaze watching my face intently as he awaited my answer. He then pointed to me and said “You Japan”, I told him we didn't do things like that and pointed out that both Uncle Sam and John Bull in the photo both had slanted eyes. With signs and gestures, we both agreed we were members of our country's armed forces and enemies. He then told me to stop work and have my meal. I then washed my hands in preparation to eat. My soldier returned once again and asked to see my food. He then waved his hand over it and told me not to eat it. He once again disappeared and on the return, brought me a cooked dinner of meat, green beans and rice on a plate. What a feast! It was unbelievable to be sitting at a table eating a good meal and feeling like a human being again.
He was a young soldier who I thought must have come from Japan for the invasion of Java and as the Dutch has capitulated, had had no experience of fighting or seen any bloodshed. When I finished work that day, I asked if I would be needed next day, to which he nodded yes. My sank as we continued to march past without halting the following morning. The guards at the camp who changed monthly, were entirely different and hardened species. We were forced to stop and bow to them as they walked around the yard and stand up and bow when they entered our cells. Out of the ratio of five guards, one would be a brute who would look out for any excuse to beat or club one of us with his rifle, one to be avoided at all costs, the remaining four not quite so sadistic but needed to be treated with caution.
One day a civilian was brought into camp who was said to be a Swiss naturalist captured in the jungle. It wasn't long before he was helping out in the cookhouse saying he could improve our diet using the plants that were plentiful and growing locally. There seemed to be an improvement in our soup on occasions, but it wasn't to last as he was moved from camp after three weeks. I read after the war that it was Laurens Van Der Post, who had probably been spying for the allies.
Whilst working at the airfield, if near the perimeter fence, Javanese would come with bananas and other fruit and offer to sell to the prisoners at outrageous prices, the guards on odd occasions would allow this. I had some genuine Dutch Guilders but Japanese currency of occupation was now in use. We were now being paid a small amount of cash, I used mine to buy razor blades, toothpaste and soap at the camp, which was awfully poor quality stuff but better than none. The person in charge of our cell would be called to the main building and handed our pay with the goods to sell. There was never sufficient cash to buy all three items at once, so always had to decided which I needed most. The cigarette issue had been stopped and we were now given three small cigars on the odd occasion.
Friday, 28 January 2011
7: Hard Labour, Batavia Airfield - Part 1.
On our first morning at work we wondered what was in store for us. All the airmen were formed up in the yard in ranks of four, and with several guards and a Japanese officer we were marched out of the gates along through the town with a number of spectators watching, then on to a rock chipping road where we heard machine gun fire in the distance, then across fields and eventually arriving at Batavia Airport.
After some consultation between the officer in charge of us and those in charge at the airport, we were marched to the runway which had been devastated by three charges detonated at intervals which left huge craters along it. There were several other craters that had been caused by bombing. We were then marched twenty men to a crater and given tools which consisted of a wicker basket with a pole through for two men to lift and a three sided wooden tray, which was to be filled using a mattock and hammers to break the rock.
Work began in the sweltering heat watched over by Japanese soldiers, the slings and baskets had to be loaded full, the trays weighed twenty eight pounds when full and had to be picked up by one man and carrier to the crater and tipped, then back again and refilled. This was accompanied by constant shouts of “Speedo, Speedo”, it was going to be an awful day. Any man appearing not to do his best was beaten, some were made to hold an empty oil drum over his head at arms length then beaten when they could not carry on.
At lunch break our meal consisted of rice packed in a two inch deep rectangular box with a small piece of fish which we were allowed to eat in the shelter of the palm trees. Our meal over, it was back to work with no let up. We would have liked to change about with the work, but it didn't seem a good idea to chance anything which might aggravate our captors and cause further beatings.
At last we were told to put our tools together, leave them and form up ready to march back to prison. We were dead beat and fortunately they didn't worry too much about our marching together until we reached the main roads. Halted at the gates of the prison we were then counted before entering, locked in our cells and food brought shortly afterwards. The usual diet again. Not much was said as we sat or laid down feeling completely exhausted and almost too tired to eat.
After the meal and a drink, we began to talk and discussed our various experiences of the day. Some had removed their shirts and been badly sunburnt, some had blistered hands and others sore shoulders from carrying heavy loads. Unexpectedly, during the evening a RAF medical officer appear at the bars of our cells accompanies by a guard asking if anyone was unwell. He told those suffering from sunburn to come to the bars then rubbed them with ointment warning them to wear their shirts in future as he hadn't much hope of getting further supplies of medication.
There was another roll call that night. We carried on in the same pattern for a fortnight. The searing heat and the pace at which we had to work , plus the lack of decent food began to take its toll, we were unable to go on being pushed to our very limits. With no rest, raw hands and diarrhoea, then dysentry, work was slowing so we suffered more beatings and blows with rifle butts, we just couldn't go on.
That night the M.O. came to the cell bars and was furious when he saw the state we were in. He told us he would try to see the Commandant with the C.O.
The next day we were not called for work so just sat or laid resting until afternoon when the door was unlocked, we were then herded out and put into ranks on the square. The camp Commandant then addressed us and said that we had worked hard so had been given the day off. Some restrictions were to be lifted but would be renewed if we didn't behave. Then our C.O. spoke to us saying he had had a talk with the Commandant regarding our working and living conditions. He had told him there would be no prisoners left to do any work if there were no immediate improvements.
The changes to be made were that the cell doors were to be left open and if we so wished we could sleep outside the yard. We were not to stroll about outside and must not collect into groups. Washing facilities were to be made in the yard and another concession which pleased us greatly, was that RAF and army cooks would take over the preparation of food. The rice and stew was to be put into tubs and collected from the cook house by men from each cell, the grandly named stew consisted of some type of greens, the water it was cooked in plus an occasional potato and the liquid. We were each to keep our own tin bowl and dish. Food was our top priority, so this news alone was much welcomed by all.
Our spirits were lifted with all this information and that evening after roll call I moved my blanket outside along with a few other. It was great to lay under the purple sky looking up at the stars. I slept well that night free from bugs at last. Our blankets and any belongings still had to be kept in our cells at all times, except when in use.
There were always guards present in the yard, they had to be saluted or bowed to and were pretty troublesome at times, we never knew when to expect a beating. The real purpose of going outside was to wash or do washing.
Toilet facilities were to be made in the year as the holes in the cell floors were full of flies and were the main cause of the dysentry which had broken out. The RAF officers, who up until that time had been placed in the various cells along with us men, were now moved into one cell together and were put in charge of various sections of men as we were marched to work.
At the airfield we were now allocated a ten minute rest time, four men at each interval, depending on the guard, sometime we weren't so lucky. We were being driven as hard as ever but it was a relief to know there wold be the occasional rest, no one slackened, things were a little better and it was in our interest to keep it that way.
Over the next few days cubicles were built out of the bug ridden table tops by some of the prisoners and placed in the centre of the yard over the main drainage channel that run under the prison wall through an iron grille. This was a cement channel eighteen inches deep and approximately twelve inches wide, designed to cope with the tropical downpours. The cubicles straddled this drain and were to be our toilets. There was running water from a fire hose, this was placed in the channel for flushing purposed each morning and evening for our use before leaving for work and upon return. The cell toilets were clean and not used again. Other cubicles were made with gratings to stand on, so we were able to wash and have hand showers. Water for this purpose was obtained from a tap in the yard. Behind the prison was a small river into which all the sewage ran. On the opposite bank live Javanese in bamboo huts. Their toilets were cubicles place on bamboo rafts moored to the bank, so all their waste went into this river in which they also bathed and did their washing.
After some consultation between the officer in charge of us and those in charge at the airport, we were marched to the runway which had been devastated by three charges detonated at intervals which left huge craters along it. There were several other craters that had been caused by bombing. We were then marched twenty men to a crater and given tools which consisted of a wicker basket with a pole through for two men to lift and a three sided wooden tray, which was to be filled using a mattock and hammers to break the rock.
Work began in the sweltering heat watched over by Japanese soldiers, the slings and baskets had to be loaded full, the trays weighed twenty eight pounds when full and had to be picked up by one man and carrier to the crater and tipped, then back again and refilled. This was accompanied by constant shouts of “Speedo, Speedo”, it was going to be an awful day. Any man appearing not to do his best was beaten, some were made to hold an empty oil drum over his head at arms length then beaten when they could not carry on.
At lunch break our meal consisted of rice packed in a two inch deep rectangular box with a small piece of fish which we were allowed to eat in the shelter of the palm trees. Our meal over, it was back to work with no let up. We would have liked to change about with the work, but it didn't seem a good idea to chance anything which might aggravate our captors and cause further beatings.
At last we were told to put our tools together, leave them and form up ready to march back to prison. We were dead beat and fortunately they didn't worry too much about our marching together until we reached the main roads. Halted at the gates of the prison we were then counted before entering, locked in our cells and food brought shortly afterwards. The usual diet again. Not much was said as we sat or laid down feeling completely exhausted and almost too tired to eat.
After the meal and a drink, we began to talk and discussed our various experiences of the day. Some had removed their shirts and been badly sunburnt, some had blistered hands and others sore shoulders from carrying heavy loads. Unexpectedly, during the evening a RAF medical officer appear at the bars of our cells accompanies by a guard asking if anyone was unwell. He told those suffering from sunburn to come to the bars then rubbed them with ointment warning them to wear their shirts in future as he hadn't much hope of getting further supplies of medication.
There was another roll call that night. We carried on in the same pattern for a fortnight. The searing heat and the pace at which we had to work , plus the lack of decent food began to take its toll, we were unable to go on being pushed to our very limits. With no rest, raw hands and diarrhoea, then dysentry, work was slowing so we suffered more beatings and blows with rifle butts, we just couldn't go on.
That night the M.O. came to the cell bars and was furious when he saw the state we were in. He told us he would try to see the Commandant with the C.O.
The next day we were not called for work so just sat or laid resting until afternoon when the door was unlocked, we were then herded out and put into ranks on the square. The camp Commandant then addressed us and said that we had worked hard so had been given the day off. Some restrictions were to be lifted but would be renewed if we didn't behave. Then our C.O. spoke to us saying he had had a talk with the Commandant regarding our working and living conditions. He had told him there would be no prisoners left to do any work if there were no immediate improvements.
The changes to be made were that the cell doors were to be left open and if we so wished we could sleep outside the yard. We were not to stroll about outside and must not collect into groups. Washing facilities were to be made in the yard and another concession which pleased us greatly, was that RAF and army cooks would take over the preparation of food. The rice and stew was to be put into tubs and collected from the cook house by men from each cell, the grandly named stew consisted of some type of greens, the water it was cooked in plus an occasional potato and the liquid. We were each to keep our own tin bowl and dish. Food was our top priority, so this news alone was much welcomed by all.
Our spirits were lifted with all this information and that evening after roll call I moved my blanket outside along with a few other. It was great to lay under the purple sky looking up at the stars. I slept well that night free from bugs at last. Our blankets and any belongings still had to be kept in our cells at all times, except when in use.
There were always guards present in the yard, they had to be saluted or bowed to and were pretty troublesome at times, we never knew when to expect a beating. The real purpose of going outside was to wash or do washing.
Toilet facilities were to be made in the year as the holes in the cell floors were full of flies and were the main cause of the dysentry which had broken out. The RAF officers, who up until that time had been placed in the various cells along with us men, were now moved into one cell together and were put in charge of various sections of men as we were marched to work.
At the airfield we were now allocated a ten minute rest time, four men at each interval, depending on the guard, sometime we weren't so lucky. We were being driven as hard as ever but it was a relief to know there wold be the occasional rest, no one slackened, things were a little better and it was in our interest to keep it that way.
Over the next few days cubicles were built out of the bug ridden table tops by some of the prisoners and placed in the centre of the yard over the main drainage channel that run under the prison wall through an iron grille. This was a cement channel eighteen inches deep and approximately twelve inches wide, designed to cope with the tropical downpours. The cubicles straddled this drain and were to be our toilets. There was running water from a fire hose, this was placed in the channel for flushing purposed each morning and evening for our use before leaving for work and upon return. The cell toilets were clean and not used again. Other cubicles were made with gratings to stand on, so we were able to wash and have hand showers. Water for this purpose was obtained from a tap in the yard. Behind the prison was a small river into which all the sewage ran. On the opposite bank live Javanese in bamboo huts. Their toilets were cubicles place on bamboo rafts moored to the bank, so all their waste went into this river in which they also bathed and did their washing.
Friday, 21 January 2011
6: Batavia, Bouie Glodok Prison
We were put into some sort of order and marched off feeling better for the food and rest, but awfully tired as it was our fourth night without proper sleep. I've no idea how long we marched, time didn't count anymore, someone else has control of us, so, we just did or acted as instructed. It began to sink into my brain that I had to think for myself, survival was to be the aim and how to achieve it. I had no knowledge of what to expect or what lay ahead ad wondered, can I stand what was to come with no control over my future.
Eventually we halted outside a large building, double doors were opened into what appear to be the entrance to a railway station booking office with a window and a door at each side. There were also double doors with guards at the other end of the room. A Japanese officer was counting us into groups of twenty, bringing his sword down between each group. We were then roughly searched and moved on through the far end double doors into a yard. We now realised this was a prison. We stood waiting until a large number of us had assembled and were then marched to the cells. I was put in a cell which had a cement floor and walls, one of which had iron bars from half way up the wall to the ceiling, together with another seventy nine men. The cell measured twenty feet by twenty feed and had a large bar door which was slammed shut. There were two small light bulbs which didn't shed much light, with wooden tables set up closely together in rows which some of us had to sleep on. Others slept on the floor beneath them with one blanket for each man. A hole in the corner was the toilet, two barrels of water was our supply for drinking, washing and flushing the toilet.
After spending nights sleeping rough on cement roads I thought wood wouldn't feel as hard, but dead tired as we were we had an awful night. The joins in the tables were full of bugs that bit us all over.
Daylight came and we had a chat to decide how we should use our water supply. It was agreed that drinking water was a priority, so decided one barrel was to be kept solely for that purpose, the other to be used for washing, the toilet to be flushed with dirty water only We washed with friends, sharing a bowl of water between four.
Breakfast came, a shallow aluminium bowl measuring approximately six inches across with an inch of rice in the bottom, pressed down by being stacked on one another. They were brought by Javanese convicts who seemed to be in charge of the cooking and distribution. We were also given small pudding shaped basins, the contents of which looked like cooked privet hedge clippings. Most of us sampled it but found we were not yet hungry enough to eat much of it, thinking the next meal must be better. The morning was spent talking amongst ourselves and wondering what was going to happen to us next, we felt we couldn't live under the present conditions for long. We busied ourselves trying to rid the tables of bugs. It was impossible for all of us to stand and move about at the same time, our space was limited and understandably no one wanted to be near the toilet.
Lunch came. It was a repeat of our breakfast menu but, as I was beginning to feel very hungry and this seemed likely to be our diet, my thoughts were that I had better get used to it, so down it went. We passed the afternoon just chatting until dinner was served that night, our usual rice and hedgerow greens plus the luxury of small tins or corned beef, which was shared on tin between seven men which we mixed in with our rice, it seemed quite a feast.
The next morning after breakfast we were driven out of our cells and gathered together in the yard, the guards acting as was to become their standard behaviour, jabbing with their bayonets and rifle butts to move things along.
An address from the Japanese Commandant was read out by his interpreter informing us that anyone attempting or being caught escaping would be shot and that we were to be put to whatever work they desired. We were then each handed a paper stating that we agree to that work and told to sign on the bottom. It did not specify what type of work we would be put to. Our senior officer, a Group Captain then told us not to sign as it was against Geneva Convention for P.O.W.'s to be put to work on military installations, which he thought was probably the work we were intended for. We could do any other task that did not help the enemy forces. We then returned to the cells.
The following day the guards arrived, hurled the door open, charged in and herded us out into the yard. Our Group Captain then told us he had been informed that twelve airmen and twelve soldiers had been taken from their cells and were facing execution within hours if we didn't sign the papers given to us. If we still didn't comply when the executions had been carried out, another twenty four men would be shot and so on until the papers had been signed. He then said he could not gamble with the men's lives and would take responsibility for our signing under duress. We duly signed and handed the papers to the guards.
We were informed we would be put to work the following day and each handed a piece of cloth which had a number printed thereon, mine being 132, and told to sew it to the back of our shirts. On our brief outings into the yard we could see that the prison was divided into two parts, all RAF personnel were in cells and the army prisoners were kept in barracks. The cells were situated round the large yard and backing onto a twenty feet high concrete wall with gun posts at every corner. The cells were of varying sizes and together held about four hundred airmen. Our food, on arrival, was pushed one bowl at a time under the barred door. Overlooking the yard was a large building which housed the Japanese. Situated in the centre of the building were the double doors where we passed through when going to work and returning. We later discovered the prison was called Bouie Glodok which was a criminal gaol for murderers and desperate criminals.
Early next morning the cell door opened and a Japanese officer with guards in attendance entered, we lined up for roll call and had to number off. This we did but were told that in future we would have to reply with Japanese numerals. This roll call was to be a regular order first thing in the morning and last thing at night, which was an obvious check to see that no man went missing.
The learning of Japanese numerals was a rather painful process, the officer would call ICHI, NEI, SAN (one, two, three) etc as he went along the line and each prisoner repeated whatever number he happened to be at. After about a week, we were expected to call our number in Japanese without any prompting, which caused an awful panic some mornings when some of the men only feeling confident with one number such as six or twelve, would try to get six or twelfth in line, any mistakes were rewarded with a lump round the face. Needless to say we learned very quickly. After roll call came our usual breakfast and then half an hour later we had to be ready to march to work. Whenever we were required outside the cell, the door would open and guards would rush in and drive us all out like cattle with rifle butts and bayonets.
Eventually we halted outside a large building, double doors were opened into what appear to be the entrance to a railway station booking office with a window and a door at each side. There were also double doors with guards at the other end of the room. A Japanese officer was counting us into groups of twenty, bringing his sword down between each group. We were then roughly searched and moved on through the far end double doors into a yard. We now realised this was a prison. We stood waiting until a large number of us had assembled and were then marched to the cells. I was put in a cell which had a cement floor and walls, one of which had iron bars from half way up the wall to the ceiling, together with another seventy nine men. The cell measured twenty feet by twenty feed and had a large bar door which was slammed shut. There were two small light bulbs which didn't shed much light, with wooden tables set up closely together in rows which some of us had to sleep on. Others slept on the floor beneath them with one blanket for each man. A hole in the corner was the toilet, two barrels of water was our supply for drinking, washing and flushing the toilet.
After spending nights sleeping rough on cement roads I thought wood wouldn't feel as hard, but dead tired as we were we had an awful night. The joins in the tables were full of bugs that bit us all over.
Daylight came and we had a chat to decide how we should use our water supply. It was agreed that drinking water was a priority, so decided one barrel was to be kept solely for that purpose, the other to be used for washing, the toilet to be flushed with dirty water only We washed with friends, sharing a bowl of water between four.
Breakfast came, a shallow aluminium bowl measuring approximately six inches across with an inch of rice in the bottom, pressed down by being stacked on one another. They were brought by Javanese convicts who seemed to be in charge of the cooking and distribution. We were also given small pudding shaped basins, the contents of which looked like cooked privet hedge clippings. Most of us sampled it but found we were not yet hungry enough to eat much of it, thinking the next meal must be better. The morning was spent talking amongst ourselves and wondering what was going to happen to us next, we felt we couldn't live under the present conditions for long. We busied ourselves trying to rid the tables of bugs. It was impossible for all of us to stand and move about at the same time, our space was limited and understandably no one wanted to be near the toilet.
Lunch came. It was a repeat of our breakfast menu but, as I was beginning to feel very hungry and this seemed likely to be our diet, my thoughts were that I had better get used to it, so down it went. We passed the afternoon just chatting until dinner was served that night, our usual rice and hedgerow greens plus the luxury of small tins or corned beef, which was shared on tin between seven men which we mixed in with our rice, it seemed quite a feast.
The next morning after breakfast we were driven out of our cells and gathered together in the yard, the guards acting as was to become their standard behaviour, jabbing with their bayonets and rifle butts to move things along.
An address from the Japanese Commandant was read out by his interpreter informing us that anyone attempting or being caught escaping would be shot and that we were to be put to whatever work they desired. We were then each handed a paper stating that we agree to that work and told to sign on the bottom. It did not specify what type of work we would be put to. Our senior officer, a Group Captain then told us not to sign as it was against Geneva Convention for P.O.W.'s to be put to work on military installations, which he thought was probably the work we were intended for. We could do any other task that did not help the enemy forces. We then returned to the cells.
The following day the guards arrived, hurled the door open, charged in and herded us out into the yard. Our Group Captain then told us he had been informed that twelve airmen and twelve soldiers had been taken from their cells and were facing execution within hours if we didn't sign the papers given to us. If we still didn't comply when the executions had been carried out, another twenty four men would be shot and so on until the papers had been signed. He then said he could not gamble with the men's lives and would take responsibility for our signing under duress. We duly signed and handed the papers to the guards.
We were informed we would be put to work the following day and each handed a piece of cloth which had a number printed thereon, mine being 132, and told to sew it to the back of our shirts. On our brief outings into the yard we could see that the prison was divided into two parts, all RAF personnel were in cells and the army prisoners were kept in barracks. The cells were situated round the large yard and backing onto a twenty feet high concrete wall with gun posts at every corner. The cells were of varying sizes and together held about four hundred airmen. Our food, on arrival, was pushed one bowl at a time under the barred door. Overlooking the yard was a large building which housed the Japanese. Situated in the centre of the building were the double doors where we passed through when going to work and returning. We later discovered the prison was called Bouie Glodok which was a criminal gaol for murderers and desperate criminals.
Early next morning the cell door opened and a Japanese officer with guards in attendance entered, we lined up for roll call and had to number off. This we did but were told that in future we would have to reply with Japanese numerals. This roll call was to be a regular order first thing in the morning and last thing at night, which was an obvious check to see that no man went missing.
The learning of Japanese numerals was a rather painful process, the officer would call ICHI, NEI, SAN (one, two, three) etc as he went along the line and each prisoner repeated whatever number he happened to be at. After about a week, we were expected to call our number in Japanese without any prompting, which caused an awful panic some mornings when some of the men only feeling confident with one number such as six or twelve, would try to get six or twelfth in line, any mistakes were rewarded with a lump round the face. Needless to say we learned very quickly. After roll call came our usual breakfast and then half an hour later we had to be ready to march to work. Whenever we were required outside the cell, the door would open and guards would rush in and drive us all out like cattle with rifle butts and bayonets.
Saturday, 15 January 2011
5: Capture and Back to Batavia
Unbeknown to us the Jap's had offered a twenty-five guilders reward to the Indonesians for the whereabouts of every allied serviceman report to them. After about three weeks, suddenly an English speaking voice through a loud hailer warned us to stay where we were until collected by Japanese soldiers. We were warned not to move outside an area marked with white flags and if this order was not complied with, we would be shot. During this time we had seen no sign of Japanese soldiers or anyone else for that matter. We carried on as normal as was possible for another three days.
The following morning as we were clearing up after breakfast, into the clearing walked a Japanese officer accompanied by ten soldiers. The officer, who spoke good English, ordered us to stop what we were doing and listen to what he had to say. He wanted to know where we had come from, how we had arrived here, also, where were our vehicles. He was informed we were from Batavia and had arrived in three trucks which we had destroyed. Upon hearing this he just surveyed us and then commented “So you must walk”. He then ordered us to prepare to move out, informing us that we would not be given any food or water from the Japanese until we reached our destination.
It was then I realised that although we had been warned three days previously that we would be picked up, we had done nothing in preparation for the move. We were given just ten minutes in which to be ready. Most of our stock of food was in large tins, the corned beef for instance was in 7lb tins. The tins of biscuits we found were too large to put in our kitbags, these were hastily opened and shared out.
It was agreed that one of us would carry a tin of corned beef to share amongst a group of us, taking turns to carry it on the way. I packed my haversack with biscuits, the kitbag which I had obtained in Batavia, I packed with 2lb tins of peaches, the corned beef and more biscuits, managing to fill my water bottle just in time as we were moved on. The Japanese soldiers making it clear with digs from rifle muzzles that it was time to go.
All too soon it became obvious that most of us had packed far more than we could carry. My only experience of carrying a kitbag was over short distances packed with soft clothing, not hard edged tins that moved with every step, clearly, this was going to be a terrible journey. Fortunately for us, the Japanese soldiers soon began to wilt. They wore a full kit and uniform, and each one carried a rifle and ammunition. They were soon soaked with sweat in the hot humid tropical heat and suffered as much as we were.
We came to a halt for a short rest and were told that anyone unable to keep up the pace would be shot. I think the impression the Japanese officer was trying to convey, was that the stop was for our benefit, rather than for his troops. My immediate thoughts upon stopping was to endeavour to lighten my load somehow. I mentally went through was I was carrying and decided that the tinned fruit, which were in two pound tins, must go first. I opened a tin of peaches, ate what I could and drunk the juice. I looked around and found that my fellow airmen were all like minded, busily sorting their loads and eating what they could manage. The break came to an end all too soon.
We had left the bush and scrub behind and were marching on a dirt road, the heat was intense. I had kept a tin of peaches handy so I as I walked I stabbed it with the spike of my jack knife, drunk the juice and threw the tin and fruit away.
At the next break I did a hasty repack, I decided to discard my blanket which I had taken to sleep on, also, to keep out the cold at night, it was proving to be too bulky and cumbersome. I reasoned that my blue jacket would keep me warm if needed, so wrapped it around the tinned meat.
The tinned peaches needed to be got rid of, so I decided that on the first day I would just consume peaches and biscuits, I would then be relieved of their bulk and weight. This would leave just the meat and biscuits together with my small amount of kit, making it a more comfortable load to carry. I calculated I could spread the food I had left over five days.
The road we were now travelling on was rough walnut size gravel and in more open country, the sun blazed down from a cloudless sky as we trudged along.
The breaks came about every hour. My arms ached from holding my kitbag on my shoulder but was able to keep up the pace quite easily. I was fed up with the taste of peaches and had an unquenchable thirst. The syrupy juice tasted thicker with each tin and I longed to drain my water bottle but knew that the water I carried was more important to me taken in small sips. The end of the first day came at last and we were to sleep where we had stopped.
An army truck arrived with food for the Japanese guards, also, a small water tank where we were allowed to fill our bottles. As I laid down on the ground that night my thoughts were of our day's journey and it occurred to me how strange, we had not passed a single person all day. On the second day of our long trek we were joined by more prisoners and were now travelling on a better road surface and provided with a small water truck at intervals. The soldier escort was now being worked in stages with a truck supplied to relieve them every hour, one hour marching and one hour rest, so they were refreshed which didn't help us, the night stops were a relief. The third day some of the chaps were beginning to flag and some suffered terribly blistered feed. The pace had slowed considerable but our captors persevered with stragglers and did not shoot anyone as promised.
During rest time an Air Vice Marshall who was marching with us, spent some of his rest time moving amongst us, bringing water to some of the men and telling them not to give up. He set us all a very good example. We were told we would rest the following day.
Marching on the next day, we at last arrived at a railway station yard where we boarded a train and were put into carriages where we could sit, bliss. Water was given to us, also a rice meal. Ups and downs were to come throughout my life as a prisoner, but this was a definite up.
Of our whereabouts, we had no idea. We set off and soon passed through a railway yard, in the sidings there were lines of trucks loaded with crate after crate, which had been opened to reveal Tomahawk fighter planes with American markings that had been sent to Java and never used.
Day turned to night as we continued our journey. There was no glass in the windows of the carriages, just wooden shutters to keep out the ash and dust from the burning wood the train was being fueled with. We kept the shutters open and watched the continuous cascade of sparks flying from the engine, we were also curious as to where we were going. At last in the darkness we pulled into a station, where we were ordered out and found we were back in Batavia once again, my fourth visit here.
The following morning as we were clearing up after breakfast, into the clearing walked a Japanese officer accompanied by ten soldiers. The officer, who spoke good English, ordered us to stop what we were doing and listen to what he had to say. He wanted to know where we had come from, how we had arrived here, also, where were our vehicles. He was informed we were from Batavia and had arrived in three trucks which we had destroyed. Upon hearing this he just surveyed us and then commented “So you must walk”. He then ordered us to prepare to move out, informing us that we would not be given any food or water from the Japanese until we reached our destination.
It was then I realised that although we had been warned three days previously that we would be picked up, we had done nothing in preparation for the move. We were given just ten minutes in which to be ready. Most of our stock of food was in large tins, the corned beef for instance was in 7lb tins. The tins of biscuits we found were too large to put in our kitbags, these were hastily opened and shared out.
It was agreed that one of us would carry a tin of corned beef to share amongst a group of us, taking turns to carry it on the way. I packed my haversack with biscuits, the kitbag which I had obtained in Batavia, I packed with 2lb tins of peaches, the corned beef and more biscuits, managing to fill my water bottle just in time as we were moved on. The Japanese soldiers making it clear with digs from rifle muzzles that it was time to go.
All too soon it became obvious that most of us had packed far more than we could carry. My only experience of carrying a kitbag was over short distances packed with soft clothing, not hard edged tins that moved with every step, clearly, this was going to be a terrible journey. Fortunately for us, the Japanese soldiers soon began to wilt. They wore a full kit and uniform, and each one carried a rifle and ammunition. They were soon soaked with sweat in the hot humid tropical heat and suffered as much as we were.
We came to a halt for a short rest and were told that anyone unable to keep up the pace would be shot. I think the impression the Japanese officer was trying to convey, was that the stop was for our benefit, rather than for his troops. My immediate thoughts upon stopping was to endeavour to lighten my load somehow. I mentally went through was I was carrying and decided that the tinned fruit, which were in two pound tins, must go first. I opened a tin of peaches, ate what I could and drunk the juice. I looked around and found that my fellow airmen were all like minded, busily sorting their loads and eating what they could manage. The break came to an end all too soon.
We had left the bush and scrub behind and were marching on a dirt road, the heat was intense. I had kept a tin of peaches handy so I as I walked I stabbed it with the spike of my jack knife, drunk the juice and threw the tin and fruit away.
At the next break I did a hasty repack, I decided to discard my blanket which I had taken to sleep on, also, to keep out the cold at night, it was proving to be too bulky and cumbersome. I reasoned that my blue jacket would keep me warm if needed, so wrapped it around the tinned meat.
The tinned peaches needed to be got rid of, so I decided that on the first day I would just consume peaches and biscuits, I would then be relieved of their bulk and weight. This would leave just the meat and biscuits together with my small amount of kit, making it a more comfortable load to carry. I calculated I could spread the food I had left over five days.
The road we were now travelling on was rough walnut size gravel and in more open country, the sun blazed down from a cloudless sky as we trudged along.
The breaks came about every hour. My arms ached from holding my kitbag on my shoulder but was able to keep up the pace quite easily. I was fed up with the taste of peaches and had an unquenchable thirst. The syrupy juice tasted thicker with each tin and I longed to drain my water bottle but knew that the water I carried was more important to me taken in small sips. The end of the first day came at last and we were to sleep where we had stopped.
An army truck arrived with food for the Japanese guards, also, a small water tank where we were allowed to fill our bottles. As I laid down on the ground that night my thoughts were of our day's journey and it occurred to me how strange, we had not passed a single person all day. On the second day of our long trek we were joined by more prisoners and were now travelling on a better road surface and provided with a small water truck at intervals. The soldier escort was now being worked in stages with a truck supplied to relieve them every hour, one hour marching and one hour rest, so they were refreshed which didn't help us, the night stops were a relief. The third day some of the chaps were beginning to flag and some suffered terribly blistered feed. The pace had slowed considerable but our captors persevered with stragglers and did not shoot anyone as promised.
During rest time an Air Vice Marshall who was marching with us, spent some of his rest time moving amongst us, bringing water to some of the men and telling them not to give up. He set us all a very good example. We were told we would rest the following day.
Marching on the next day, we at last arrived at a railway station yard where we boarded a train and were put into carriages where we could sit, bliss. Water was given to us, also a rice meal. Ups and downs were to come throughout my life as a prisoner, but this was a definite up.
Of our whereabouts, we had no idea. We set off and soon passed through a railway yard, in the sidings there were lines of trucks loaded with crate after crate, which had been opened to reveal Tomahawk fighter planes with American markings that had been sent to Java and never used.
Day turned to night as we continued our journey. There was no glass in the windows of the carriages, just wooden shutters to keep out the ash and dust from the burning wood the train was being fueled with. We kept the shutters open and watched the continuous cascade of sparks flying from the engine, we were also curious as to where we were going. At last in the darkness we pulled into a station, where we were ordered out and found we were back in Batavia once again, my fourth visit here.
Friday, 7 January 2011
4: Flee to Southern Java - Part 2.
We moved off next morning feeling a little subdued after this episode, thinking of our plans to live in the wilds and wondering what other hidden dangers lay in wait. The made up road petered out and we were then on dirt track. Before long it started to rain in torrents, a typical tropical downpour, which didn't improve matters. We pushed on until early evening when the two wheel drive truck got stuck in the mud up to its axles. We had enough for the day, so it was corned beef and biscuits whilst we sheltered from the downpour.
It was a pitch black night, we were wet and uncomfortable and I had a pretty restless night. We slept in the two four wheel drive trucks under cover of the canopies, outside was squelching mud.
We were all up and about early, the morning hot and sunny as usual. The bogged down truck was fully laden with provisions which had to be unloaded and transferred to the remaining two trucks before any attempt could be made to pull it clear. We squelched our way back and forth for most of the morning until the task was finished, we then had a quick bit to eat, pulled the bogged down truck free and moved further into the scrubland.
Soon after we came to a rocky area, on the one side there was a thirty feet drop, the sides overgrown with small trees and the opposite side just rock. The gap between was deep in mud due to the previous downpour, needless to say the two wheel drive truck became bogged down once again. It had to go. It was completely stripped, pulled out of the mud and driven to the edge of the drop. Oil and water was then drained and the engine revved up. It wouldn't seize up, probably worn out with too much clearance in the bores, so it was finally pushed over the edge.
Continuing our journey we found that the going was very slow, as the vehicles were in low gear. We had only travelled a short distance when we saw running water and decided this was to be our camp. That night we had a stew up, which after our previous meals, tasted pretty good - I slept well that night.
The trucks were unloaded the following day, the food being stacked in amongst bushes and undergrowth. We had some canvas and our groundsheets to make tents when needed, and so we set up our camp. We drove the remaining trucks back to where the first one had met its fate and pushed them over the edge of the ravine and out of sight.
All meals were to be cooked together now, as previously we'd been eating in small groups and helping ourselves and had no idea how long our food would have to last. We took it in turns to do the cooking and two men were to be the look out for the enemy aircraft at all times.
It was a pitch black night, we were wet and uncomfortable and I had a pretty restless night. We slept in the two four wheel drive trucks under cover of the canopies, outside was squelching mud.
We were all up and about early, the morning hot and sunny as usual. The bogged down truck was fully laden with provisions which had to be unloaded and transferred to the remaining two trucks before any attempt could be made to pull it clear. We squelched our way back and forth for most of the morning until the task was finished, we then had a quick bit to eat, pulled the bogged down truck free and moved further into the scrubland.
Soon after we came to a rocky area, on the one side there was a thirty feet drop, the sides overgrown with small trees and the opposite side just rock. The gap between was deep in mud due to the previous downpour, needless to say the two wheel drive truck became bogged down once again. It had to go. It was completely stripped, pulled out of the mud and driven to the edge of the drop. Oil and water was then drained and the engine revved up. It wouldn't seize up, probably worn out with too much clearance in the bores, so it was finally pushed over the edge.
Continuing our journey we found that the going was very slow, as the vehicles were in low gear. We had only travelled a short distance when we saw running water and decided this was to be our camp. That night we had a stew up, which after our previous meals, tasted pretty good - I slept well that night.
The trucks were unloaded the following day, the food being stacked in amongst bushes and undergrowth. We had some canvas and our groundsheets to make tents when needed, and so we set up our camp. We drove the remaining trucks back to where the first one had met its fate and pushed them over the edge of the ravine and out of sight.
All meals were to be cooked together now, as previously we'd been eating in small groups and helping ourselves and had no idea how long our food would have to last. We took it in turns to do the cooking and two men were to be the look out for the enemy aircraft at all times.
Friday, 17 December 2010
4: Flee to Southern Java - Part 1.
At headquarters we met up with another twelve airmen who had prepared three trucks loaded with food, water and petrol. Our instructions were to make for Southern Java where we might possibly find a ship to take us away. The Dutch, we were told, were ready to capitulate under threat of bombing, possibly within forty eight hours. Without further delay we set off.
We had been travelling for about five hours over flat countryside passing a few banana plantations and rice fields when at about four o'clock in the afternoon a lookout spotted a plane coming towards us. Stopping, we dived for cover. It was a two seat light bomber with a gunner in the rear. It flew up and down above us twice without firing, he had most probably used all his bombs and ammunition on other escapees. As he flew off we dashed back into the trucks hoping to find cover before he or his pals came back to look for us.
Cover was found a few miles on. There was a banana plantation nearby. We pulled in among the trees and hastily cut banana trees down placing them in and around our vehicles. About half an hour later we heard planes approaching and dived under the trucks and lay listening to bullets pattering through the leaves. This continues for three passes, fortunately nothing caught fire, then they departed. We stayed undercover, had our evening meal and moved on after dark. The darkness cut our speed down but it was more relaxing than travelling in broad daylight.
By early morning the road became more of a climb and there was now a mountain range ahead of us. We stopped for a quick bite and a cup of tea, the general opinion being, we would have to continue our journey in daylight, as the mountain road had no barrier or curb and would be hazardous in the dark.
The Japanese aircraft were attacking the North and South of the Island so we were not troubled with any visits from them that day. We cleared the mountain, made our way down and headed for the south coast. At our evening stop we heard on the radio that the ships leaving ports were under fire from Japanese warships and the Dutch were going to surrender and set up roadblocks to stop movement of allied troops, we realised then that the chance of boarding a ship was very remote. It was agreed that we would turn inland at the next junction, find as remote a spot as possible and hopefully survive on our food until liberated. We didn't go much further that day.
Moving on the next day, we left the valleys of rice behind us and found ourselves in wooded scrub country with small kampongs dotted about with banana and coconut trees about them. By late afternoon we came upon an area completely covered by large trees and wide enough to drive the trucks off the road and under cover. There was a river nearby, the ground solid and well used which suggested this was possibly a watering hole for buffalo, goats etc of the local people.
Fires were lit for our evening meal, the usual tins of corned beef and tinned vegetables accompanied by hard biscuits. The smoke of one fire angered a swarm of hornets that had been hanging from an overhead branch around thirty feet above, unnoticed. Suddenly they swooped down and landed on one man, covering his head and entire back. It was impossible to beat them off, some shouted to him to jump in the river and as he ran, more hornets followed. He submerged himself completely, but the hornets still clung to him. Some of the men tried beating them off with towels but to no avail.
It must have been at least fifteen minutes before they suddenly flew off. Obviously the man was badly stung but we had nothing with which to treat him. Two of the chaps said when we were travelling on higher ground earlier in the day they had seen a military ambulance in the distance some miles ahead of us and thought it likely the driver had pulled in somewhere for the night. So one of the trucks set off with him and did manage to find the ambulance, but we heard later that he died the following day.
We had been travelling for about five hours over flat countryside passing a few banana plantations and rice fields when at about four o'clock in the afternoon a lookout spotted a plane coming towards us. Stopping, we dived for cover. It was a two seat light bomber with a gunner in the rear. It flew up and down above us twice without firing, he had most probably used all his bombs and ammunition on other escapees. As he flew off we dashed back into the trucks hoping to find cover before he or his pals came back to look for us.
Cover was found a few miles on. There was a banana plantation nearby. We pulled in among the trees and hastily cut banana trees down placing them in and around our vehicles. About half an hour later we heard planes approaching and dived under the trucks and lay listening to bullets pattering through the leaves. This continues for three passes, fortunately nothing caught fire, then they departed. We stayed undercover, had our evening meal and moved on after dark. The darkness cut our speed down but it was more relaxing than travelling in broad daylight.
By early morning the road became more of a climb and there was now a mountain range ahead of us. We stopped for a quick bite and a cup of tea, the general opinion being, we would have to continue our journey in daylight, as the mountain road had no barrier or curb and would be hazardous in the dark.
The Japanese aircraft were attacking the North and South of the Island so we were not troubled with any visits from them that day. We cleared the mountain, made our way down and headed for the south coast. At our evening stop we heard on the radio that the ships leaving ports were under fire from Japanese warships and the Dutch were going to surrender and set up roadblocks to stop movement of allied troops, we realised then that the chance of boarding a ship was very remote. It was agreed that we would turn inland at the next junction, find as remote a spot as possible and hopefully survive on our food until liberated. We didn't go much further that day.
Moving on the next day, we left the valleys of rice behind us and found ourselves in wooded scrub country with small kampongs dotted about with banana and coconut trees about them. By late afternoon we came upon an area completely covered by large trees and wide enough to drive the trucks off the road and under cover. There was a river nearby, the ground solid and well used which suggested this was possibly a watering hole for buffalo, goats etc of the local people.
Fires were lit for our evening meal, the usual tins of corned beef and tinned vegetables accompanied by hard biscuits. The smoke of one fire angered a swarm of hornets that had been hanging from an overhead branch around thirty feet above, unnoticed. Suddenly they swooped down and landed on one man, covering his head and entire back. It was impossible to beat them off, some shouted to him to jump in the river and as he ran, more hornets followed. He submerged himself completely, but the hornets still clung to him. Some of the men tried beating them off with towels but to no avail.
It must have been at least fifteen minutes before they suddenly flew off. Obviously the man was badly stung but we had nothing with which to treat him. Two of the chaps said when we were travelling on higher ground earlier in the day they had seen a military ambulance in the distance some miles ahead of us and thought it likely the driver had pulled in somewhere for the night. So one of the trucks set off with him and did manage to find the ambulance, but we heard later that he died the following day.
Friday, 10 December 2010
3: Java, Batavia to Surabaya and back again - Part 2.
His father, a Dutchman by the name of Berg and married to a Javanese lady, explained to us that Singapore had fallen to the Japanese, therefore the currency that we had was useless. He then offered Bill and I a loan until we received our next pay, which we readily accepted and were able to repay the following day. He also loaned each of us a change of clothing and the use of his large tiled bathroom with bath and shower which was situated in the garden separate from the house. We were then invited to stay for the rest of the day and have dinner with the family. Mr Berg told us he was a linguist in local dialects and a broadcaster on radio.
On leaving that evening we were invited back the next day to dinner, also to collect our newly laundered tropical uniforms and underwear, in fact I went along two further evenings on an invitation from the daughter.
We were confined to the school in the following days usually being told we were free to go out in the afternoon, but on the fifth morning, I took a chance and popped along for a visit as there were rumours that we might be moving on. I returned to the school later in the day to find everyone had disappeared, and my haversack had been left in the corner of the room. I decided to try to find the whereabouts of another school where I knew other airmen had been billeted. Fortunately for me I was reunited with my old crowd there.
The following day we were moved from the school to a tea plantation in the hills to a place I believe was called Buitenzorg, where we spent five days resting.
Back at Batavia RAF Headquarters we, the operations room staff, were told to go to Surabaya to start a fighter control centre to demonstrate to Dutch personnel there, how to set up and operate. I collected a few more items of what kit was available, packed my kitbag and along with the rest of the crew, caught the night express to Surabaya.
We arrived in Surabaya early next morning and were met by Dutch army personnel, then transported to barracks where we went to bed to catch up on some sleep. There seemed no urgency in getting us to work. Each morning at eleven o'clock we were told 'Nothing doing today, you can go out if you wish', which we usually did. We were accommodated at the barracks, but apart from the Dutch.
Our meals were brought from outside by lorry in aluminium containers and consisted of rice, green vegetables, peppers and meat or fried rice with shrimps and fruit, which was not to our liking. We eventually complained and asked if we could have meat, vegetables and potatoes. The next day the officer in charge was given money to pay us so we could buy our own food. After that we used to eat out in bars and restaurants. Our evenings were spent in the bars, there was no shortage of cash as we were being paid every other day. The only person I met who seemed concerned about air raids was a civilian who operated the warning system. We used to meet up each night with some Americans who were flying out on patrol each day, and like us, were propping up the bars at night. They were operating three Catalina flying boats and kept us up to date with any news.
This went on for about nine days when our bubble burst. We went to our favourite bar that night, the Americans were there and greeted us saying we were just in time as they were leaving for Australia. They told us there was an invasion force about two days away with nothing to stop them, as the Dutch were not preparing any defence. They told the group of us they had room to take us with them and invited us along. We thanked them for the offer saying we had no orders to leave, it would therefore be desertion if we went. We said goodbye and returned to our barracks. At eleven o'clock two hours after the Americans had left, our C.O. came in and told us to pack, we were to return to Batavia on the night express. We hastily packed, had a count up and found six men still out. Jumping into a truck we rode round the streets shouting their names outside the bars and managed to round them all up except for two. Eventually we returned to the barracks, as time was running out, and found the missing two had returned and prepared for bed. They grabbed their clothes and boarded the train wearing just their pyjamas. We duly arrived back in Batavia next morning.
On leaving that evening we were invited back the next day to dinner, also to collect our newly laundered tropical uniforms and underwear, in fact I went along two further evenings on an invitation from the daughter.
We were confined to the school in the following days usually being told we were free to go out in the afternoon, but on the fifth morning, I took a chance and popped along for a visit as there were rumours that we might be moving on. I returned to the school later in the day to find everyone had disappeared, and my haversack had been left in the corner of the room. I decided to try to find the whereabouts of another school where I knew other airmen had been billeted. Fortunately for me I was reunited with my old crowd there.
The following day we were moved from the school to a tea plantation in the hills to a place I believe was called Buitenzorg, where we spent five days resting.
Back at Batavia RAF Headquarters we, the operations room staff, were told to go to Surabaya to start a fighter control centre to demonstrate to Dutch personnel there, how to set up and operate. I collected a few more items of what kit was available, packed my kitbag and along with the rest of the crew, caught the night express to Surabaya.
We arrived in Surabaya early next morning and were met by Dutch army personnel, then transported to barracks where we went to bed to catch up on some sleep. There seemed no urgency in getting us to work. Each morning at eleven o'clock we were told 'Nothing doing today, you can go out if you wish', which we usually did. We were accommodated at the barracks, but apart from the Dutch.
Our meals were brought from outside by lorry in aluminium containers and consisted of rice, green vegetables, peppers and meat or fried rice with shrimps and fruit, which was not to our liking. We eventually complained and asked if we could have meat, vegetables and potatoes. The next day the officer in charge was given money to pay us so we could buy our own food. After that we used to eat out in bars and restaurants. Our evenings were spent in the bars, there was no shortage of cash as we were being paid every other day. The only person I met who seemed concerned about air raids was a civilian who operated the warning system. We used to meet up each night with some Americans who were flying out on patrol each day, and like us, were propping up the bars at night. They were operating three Catalina flying boats and kept us up to date with any news.
This went on for about nine days when our bubble burst. We went to our favourite bar that night, the Americans were there and greeted us saying we were just in time as they were leaving for Australia. They told us there was an invasion force about two days away with nothing to stop them, as the Dutch were not preparing any defence. They told the group of us they had room to take us with them and invited us along. We thanked them for the offer saying we had no orders to leave, it would therefore be desertion if we went. We said goodbye and returned to our barracks. At eleven o'clock two hours after the Americans had left, our C.O. came in and told us to pack, we were to return to Batavia on the night express. We hastily packed, had a count up and found six men still out. Jumping into a truck we rode round the streets shouting their names outside the bars and managed to round them all up except for two. Eventually we returned to the barracks, as time was running out, and found the missing two had returned and prepared for bed. They grabbed their clothes and boarded the train wearing just their pyjamas. We duly arrived back in Batavia next morning.
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