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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

20: Honourable Men and Rice Cakes – Part 2.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

20: Honourable Men and Rice Cakes – Part 1.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

19: Goodbye to Worms and a Surprise Feast

My army boots were by now worn out, I was now having to wear the Japanese rubber soled boot which gave no protection and were not suitable for working in the mine. On occasions we had to work in other levels of the mine, our regular level number was five hundred and fifty.

On level five hundred, instead of us prisoners working together as usual, each one of us worked either with a Japanese or a Korean. There were a considerable number of Koreans on forced labour, who the Jap's had brought over from Korea together with families and put to work in the mine. They were housed separately on the outskirts of the village and seemed afraid to communicate with us for some reason.

One hard job we sometimes had, was to carry the drill bits used to bore the iron ore ready for the gelignite to be put in. These were up to four metres long and were mounted on an adjustable mounting, jacked up between the floor and roof and driven by compressed air. Water was sprayed to keep the drill cool. The drill bits were solid steel and an inch and half in diameter and extremely heavy. These we had to carry on our shoulders to the workshops when they needed re-sharpening or to be returned. Whilst drilling was in progress the noise was intense and very unpleasant to work near.

My stomach pains returned after a month. I now realised how I had become infected with worms, when I learned that the sewage from the cesspits in the village, was used to top up the large holes of about six cubic feet, which were dug in the corner of the fields. This was left until spring and then spread over the crops. Eating the raw, unwashed potatoes that I had stolen from the fields, had been the obvious cause. The pains, which felt like something trying to bore through my inside, continued but I saw no evidence of worms, until one night I awoke and felt one at the back of my throat, it was the most nauseating feeling. As I lay on my side, it was trying to thrust its way into the back of my nose. I sat up and tried to reach it with my fingers without success, I then tried coughing and eventually manged to grab hold of us, tugging it out and wrapping it in a piece of paper to show the surgeon next morning.

When I show him my three inch worm, which as about as thick as an earth worm, he told me I was in luck, he had recently been given some American Red Cross medical supplies. He handed me two large capsules to be taken after eight hours without food. I’d had breakfast at eight o’clock before seeing the doctor, so did not eat my midday meal before going to work. I also left my evening meal behind my bed. On my return to camp that night, I filled up with water.

Breakfast time next day, I swallowed my capsules, twenty four hours after my last meal. As the capsules dissolved in my stomach, I could taste the fumes, not unlike petrol and felt rather giddy. I went and laid on my bed, resting before going to work at one o’clock. Suddenly the guards burst in demanding a wood collecting party. I had brought down three of my ten bundles so far, it was a waste of time trying to tell the guards I wasn’t well enough, so off I went. We walked up the hillside to the wood pile and I decided I would only carry the one bundle down that day. These were carried by placing a robe round the waist, then winding it round the bundles on our back, the rope ends were then thrown over our shoulders and gripped in each hand. I was surprised at how weak I felt, when having placed the bundle on my back and standing up, I immediately fell over backwards and was unable to get up. A couple of men helped me up and to avoid a repeat performance, I managed to get back to camp in a crouching position. I returned to the hut to rest until it was time for work.

Roll call came and I took my evening meal with me today. I had accumulated four meals of rice which I had stored in my mug, bowl and soup dish, I had given my share of soup up. Walking to work I still felt rather weak and arriving at the rock face, my three workmates did most of my share of work, knowing I hadn’t eaten. After about two hours I felt then need to evacuate my bowls, so took a lamp and went to a worked out rock seam that was used as a toilet area. I emptied my bowls, held the lamp to see if I had passed any worms and was astounded to see on the ground a large cluster of about forty to fifty of them, two to three inches long, all dead. I had passed nothing else, just worms. I felt greatly relieved that at last I had seen their demise. What we would have done without those American Red Cross supplies, or our surgeon and his helpmate for that matter, I do not know. At meal break I ended my thirty four hour fast. I felt so much better after eating and could hardly wait to get back to camp for a midnight feast of the rice I had saved.

It was a wonderful feeling walking back that night with no more worrying about those ghastly worms eating away inside me, so off we went with the Americans plus the six Englishmen in the first group, sprinting ahead closely followed by the Indonesians who made up the second group, our group bringing up the rear followed by the guard and camp foreman. If our group had seen anything worth stealing, I suppose we would have been doing a sprint, but personally after my recent experience with the potatoes, I was not too keen on the idea of chancing having another bout of worms. One of the Indonesians told me some time later that they also stole potatoes from the fields, but only on bath nights. The fire under the bath was always left burning for the miners when they returned about eleven o’clock at night. When everyone had bathed, the Indonesians put their potatoes in the hot ash and by the time they had done their washing, the potatoes would be cooked ready to eat.

There was not the comradeship in this camp, each of the different nationalities kept in a tight circle, keeping their secrets and perks to themselves. There was none of the sharing or helping each other that I’d experienced before.

One evening on our walk back, an extraordinary event occurred. On one route we passed the Korean dining hut and apparently the cooks regularly put the scorched rice that was scraped from the coppers it was cooked in, outside for the prisoners to collect on their way past. Of course the Americans had kept this little secret to themselves, hence their sprint ahead of us each night. On this particular evening, finding no scorched rice outside, the Americans had entered the dining hut and helped themselves to rice from the tubs on the tables and of course then the Indonesians arrived and saw what was happening, in they went.

Our group arrived as they were leaving the hut with rice piled high in their lunch boxes, their hats and anything else they had to carry the rice in, so without hesitation in I went. There were tubs of rice and large chunks of red salmon on the table, so I helped myself to six pieces of salmon and filled my side pack with rice. As I was leaving, the guard came rushing in and the two Koreans cooks fled at the sight of him. The guard then ushered the remaining prisoners out and ran to the Americans who had by now eaten their rice, some of the Indonesians still had some and we English group hadn’t started on ours. We had taken rather large amounts, I had enough rice for at least six ordinary meals. The guard came along frantically telling us to eat it up or throw it away. We then knew that he was in a panic and had lost control of us. He was obviously frightened that he would be in dire trouble for failing in his duty. If he had raised his rifle and threatened to shoot, we would have regretfully thrown the food away. We realised that we were on top for once and told him we were going to keep it and reasoned with him that it would be seen on the road and questions might be asked, some might want to know how it got there. Also we couldn’t eat it all and intended sharing with the men in the camp who didn’t work at the mine.

We walked on slowly, eating some on the way. As we neared the camp, the guard had one more try, stopping us and telling us to eat up, we told him “No search in camp tonight”. He was still very worried, so we suggested we wait outside whilst he went in to check if the Sergeant was about, this he agreed to do. He went away and shortly after came hurrying back saying “OK move quick”, which we didn’t need telling twice. We formed up quickly for him and were dismissed, no search, what a relief.

Normally when we arrived back in the hut around eleven fifteen at night, it would be rather quiet with some of the men asleep, but within minutes they were all wide awake and rather noisy, with everyone busy eating and talking. We tried to keep quiet as we didn’t want to alert the other guards that something unusual was going on and all the food had to be consumed in case of a search the next day. A guard did come into the hut eventually whilst we were still eating and told us to be quiet. Strangely enough he didn’t put the lights on or demand to know what was going on, which was most unusual, so we did wonder if he was a friend of the guard that had escorted us back that night.

18: Food Sharing, Potatoes and Worms - Part 2.

On the poles that carried electricity cables to the Ohasi village were several loudspeakers. I had no idea if the civilian population had radios, but at various times we heard loud music played and some talking, which was possibly news programmes.

On one of our days off, guards suddenly burst in and herded us all out onto the square as we were. Two guards then moved amongst us, searching those that looked as if they might be concealing something about their person. Meanwhile inside, our beds and belongings were being turned over and ransacked by other guards. After half an hour we were allowed back in. On another occasion we were all ordered out onto the square and lined up. A Jap officer then announced we would be staying there until someone admitted to the theft. I had no idea what was missing and never found out. After fifteen minutes, there was a murmuring amongst the Indonesians, and then five of them pointed to one man, the unfortunate man was led away and we were dismissed. Back inside the hut the Indonesians refused to discuss the incident.

Anyone needing surgery could expect pretty primitive remedies and or treatment. The surgeon operated on an American miner whose thumb had been damaged and the bone become infected with the iron ore. The cut the bone out completely and sewed the flesh together, a marvellous job, although the thumb was pretty useless, it was mush better than an amputation.

It was not good for those needing dental treatment, the surgeon explaining he was not a dentist and further more, he had no tools suitable for the job. There were two men who were suffering and needed to have teeth extracted, so one of the prisoners who was employed in the mine workshop, stole and thoroughly cleaned a pair of pliers. The surgeon then said he did not have enough local anaesthetic for tooth extractions, as it was needed for wounds contaminated by the iron ore. So the arrangement was that the man with raging toothache was refused treatment for about three days and when he could stand the pain no longer, he was to call the surgeon day or night. The sailor who assisted was a huge man who held the patient down whilst the surgeon did the rest. If this took place during the night the job was carried out in the hut. I was very glad that I'd had the foresight to visit the dentist in Singapore.

Our irregular foreman who we had on occasions, didn’t work amongst us as the other three did. He would fold a cloth, placing it on a rock upon which he would sit for the whole shift, except for the meal break. We didn't know his name, but secretly called him “Heap High”. He sat so that the railway line was in his sight at all times, smoking his pipe, watching and counting as we pushed the trucks to the chute, happy that we were reaching the target. As we passed him with the loaded truck we would say “Okay”, and he would answer back something that sounded like “Heap High”, hence his nickname. At the chute we would hurl a couple of rocks down to make a noise and then push the loaded truck back to the rock face, loading a few more rocks higher on the side he sat. We would repeat this performance all shift, except for an occasional emptying of one. We were sorry we didn’t have him more often. At one time during the summer, he took us out on the hillside for our meal break. It was a glorious day with the sun beating down and we experienced a rare feeling of freedom, laying relaxed on the grass, how we enjoyed that break.

Earth tremors were fairly frequent on the Island of Honshu where we were and I became accustomed to them. On one of my days off whilst lying on the bed, I heard a noise in the distance and as it came closer, the only way I have of describing it was the sound of a large number of traction engines or steam rollers, their iron wheels grinding on a concrete road. As the noise increased, the building began to tremble. I looked out of a nearby window and saw all the Japanese pouring from their building onto the square. All the dishes, tins and mugs were falling off the shelves and outside, the filled water butts were spilling over. The noise was now deafening, everything was moving and shaking, the earth, the buildings, there was the occasional crash as boulders came tumbling down the rocky hillside at the back of the camp, then gradually it passed on its way along the valley. The waters butts had to be refilled, these were kept full at all times for the purpose of fire fighting, the Jap’s then returned to their building. Going to work the next day, I had expected to see some damaged to the mind but everything appeared to be in order.

One one of our rest days, the weather was very hot and oppressive, we were once again hustled out of our hut into the square, whilst another search for a radio was carried out. I felt the ground come up and woke up in the sick bay with a saline drip in my arm. I was told to keep out of the sun unless wearing a hat. There wasn’t much choice, with the guards rushing in from both ends of the hut driving us out.

We were nearing the end of summer when, one day Hia San our foreman told us tomorrow night was a celebration. We were rather mystified as to what there was to celebrate but he said we would have Saki, of course we only believed things when they happened. 

The following day at work, Hia San didn’t chase us to reach the tonnage target as was usual, disappearing on two occasions before we’d had our meal break, which we thought was overdue. He then went off once again saying he was going to see if the men in the office had gone home, on his return he said “All clear”. He then took us out of the mine onto the hillside, telling us to sit and eat our meal. A friend of his then appeared carrying two bottles of home made wine, Saki. Small glasses that would hold about a measure of spirit, were then passed round, it tasted slightly sour but alcoholic. He and his friend chatted and offered round smokes for the rest of the shift, we didn’t enter the mine again that night. Hia San stumbled back down the hillside with us, to the waiting guard and handed us over, he usually walked back with us to Ohasi, but not that night.

Autumn was approaching and one day, as always, on the look out for anything edible, I noticed a small field with what looked like a crop of potatoes growing in it. A closer look next day and I was sure, so that evening on the return journey from work, I put a spurt on so I was well ahead of the single guard bringing up the rear. Moving quickly, I went into the field and scraping round one of the plants, found four potatoes. I rubbed as much dirt off as was possible, then ate them raw before arriving back at camp. They tasted earthy, not at all pleasant, but I was hungry enough to eat anything. I repeated this performance as often as I was able, until one day the potatoes were harvested and my extra source of food came to an abrupt halt.

Two or three weeks later, I started suffering stomach pains with no relief. I felt alright otherwise except for the hunger pangs which were always there. Walking to work one day, I had a strange feeling in my back passage and putting my hand there, felt a large worm hanging half out. I grabbed hold of it pulling it out and threw it to the ground, deciding I would report to sick bay next day. Next morning, I went to see the surgeon and explained what had happened, his reply was “Not another gold brick”, an American expression for something worthless. He thought I was trying to escape work and told me to bring him a worm, he would then treat me. As turned to leave, I had another jab of pain that made me wince, the sailor assistant asked where the pain was, I told him my lower abdomen. He placed his hand on my stomach and felt it, then turned to the surgeon saying “You had better give him some treatment, his stomach muscles are tense and tight”. With this the surgeon gave me some worm tablets and told me not to eat for eight hours before taking them. He didn’t think the tables were strong enough for the type of worms I had, if I found another, I was to keep it for him to see.

About this time, one of the men from the other end of our hut managed to escape from camp, but his freedom only lasted twenty four hours. Why he thought it was worth a try in the land of slant eyed people, I’ll never know. Where could he possibly go without being noticed? His close companions in the hut were fortunate there were no reprisals against them, as was the case in the Java camp. We didn’t seem him again.

18: Food Sharing, Potatoes and Worms - Part 1.

Food was the overriding factor that governed our days, our stomach, our feelings, we seemed to be getting less rice. I was constantly ravenously hungry and was now eating a plant that grew at the roadside. In my eyes, if it looked like celery, which it did, that was good enough for me, it must have been wild celery.

One day on the way to work, I saw a woman by the stream cut the heads off two fish. That night on the walk back, I collected them to take back to camp, intending to boil them in a tin on the fire, drink the liquid and eat the heads. However, a chap who worked in the limestone quarry asked me to sell them to him for cigarettes, as he never had much chance to find any edibles to supplement his diet, so they changed hands. There was no way I could cook them until my day off, which was still two days away. The fires had to be out by nine o’clock, long before I returned from my shift at the mine. That was an incident repeated in many different ways in the quest to fill our stomachs.

On one of my days off, I was lying resting out of sight on my bed, when I heard loud shouting in Japanese coming from the direction of the square. I thought possibly a prisoner had been caught at some misdemeanour, so cautiously looked through the window. Instead I saw a Japanese soldier standing to attention, a Japanese officer just walking away from him, a Sergeant then started to slap his face and punch him. When he stopped, a Corporal began beating him, this punishment continued until about six ordinary soldiers had taken their turn. I spoke to Sakata and asked him what it was all about, he told me that was the punishment meted out for a small offence in the Japanese army, the offender being beaten by his superiors.

The weather was changing and turning colder now, autumn was rather wet, of course it didn't affect our working conditions, that was one thing that in my life that stayed constant. It was hard work but employed my mind to a certain degree. The ore was full of seams and needed a bit of thought as to which seam to hit so that it cracked and fell apart.

The sharing of the rice and soup was a serious business watched closely by all. The occupants of the upper level bunks sat close together, legs dangling over the edge with all eyes fixed on the man filling the measure before tipping it into the bowls lined up on the table, making sure he didn’t press more rice into his own bowl. It would have been farcical if we hadn't been so hungry.

If there happened to be lumps of anything in the soup, they were equally shared. Each tub fed twenty two men. Of course there were disagreements and one complain if backed up by others, meant a change of server. After one such argument I was asked to take over dishing out the rice, I agreed and lasted a little over six months before being accused of packing my own bowl too hard. I counted this an achievement to have lasted so long. The benefit of dishing out the food was that you could scrape the last grains from the tub, before washing and returning it to the cookhouse. The soup man was allowed a little drop extra, their ration stayed on the table for examination whilst they returned the cleaned tubs to the cookhouse.

Christmas came during my time as a server, no complaints on that day, we had been given an American Red Cross Parcel. There were between seven and ten packets of twenty cigarettes, the variation being made up with more or less food. There was chopped pork, ham, salmon and various other tins of food, coffee, sugar, powdered milk and bars of chocolate, a brilliant effort by the Americans. It seemed the best Christmas I'd ever had, we had a day off and marvellous atmosphere in the hut.

Christmas 1943 was unforgettable with snow outside. It was a cold winter, we were issued with a pair of metal plates with spikes to place on the soles of our boots, tying to the laced instep for walking on the icy roads and slopes up to the mine. Early one morning we were called out to clear the snow from the camp grounds, as over four feet had fallen overnight. When we went to work that day the snow outside the gate was six feet high, this we had to climb up to an icy path on top of the snow. It was a slippery walk to the mine, I managed to slip off the path on two occasions, going in up to my armpits, and had to be pulled out. I wasn’t alone, we all fell off at one time or another. When we left work that evening, a snow plough had cleared the worst and made a wide path.

The seasons at Ohasi were pretty reliable. The winters were cold with plenty of snow, spring brought the warm sun, summer was settled and very hot, autumn was the rainy season. We sometimes experienced high winds which rushed through the valley and on one such occasion, saw the roof of a large building lift and then settle with one gust of wind, but the second gust blew it completely away, before breaking up amongst the houses.

It was now March, spring had arrived and the weather started warming up. There was just one guard escorting us to work now, it was possible that the number of Army personnel stationed at the camp had been reduced, it was difficult to tell. There were a few rumours of allied successes going the rounds, also talk of a radio in the camp. I think perhaps our spirits had taken a boost, the Japanese became suspicious.

17: Boils and Blood

Boils had begun to break out on my neck and round my chin, so I decided to go to the sick bay which was run by an American surgeon who had survived the sinking of the U.S.S Houston, also a sailor who if I can recall correctly, was named Schofield from the same ship - the surgeon’s name evades me. I showed them my boils and explained the problems I had experience with my hands and legs. They had nothing with which to treat me, other than a mild disinfectant with which the sailor bathed my boils. I was told to let them heal themselves, but must try to keep them clean. Apparently they had done some amputations of toes and fingers that had become affected with the iron ore dust. I still had my bandages, so wrapped these round my neck to keep it clean at work.

The journey home from work in the dark with some of the men at the front walking at a much faster pace, had a purpose I discovered. On the way to work they would take not of any fish hanging to dry outside the houses, or anything else about that was edible, then steal some on the way back. Their mates following behind, would wait at a slower pace giving them time to do the stealing before anyone else caught up with them, they would then have a share of the spoils when back at camp. The searches were not regular, if the guard Sergeant was not about, there wouldn’t be one. I assumed they thought we were unlikely to steal iron ore.

The boils on the front of my neck and chin had healed, but I was now having trouble with the back of my neck. This gradually worsened, so after two weeks I went back to the sick bay, I was told the whole of the back of my neck had lifted and there were six holes where pus was oozing out. They opened up the holes pressing down to get all the pus out, then fed strips of bandage into each hole leaving the ends hanging out so they resembled wicks. I was to return each day to have them changed and my neck cleaned.

This went on for two weeks, after which, on the next visit, the surgeon told me he had nothing to give me to cure my problem, explaining my condition was caused by diet we were existing on, mainly the lack of green vegetables and fruit so therefore could see no cure. He went on to say he had attended a survival course in the U.S. Navy and remembered being told of a drastic way, where no drugs were available, that might effect a cure. It would involve taking half a pint of blood from the artery in my right arm as quickly as was possible and putting it into the cheek of my bottom which had small blood vessels and could be absorbed more easily. This must be done before the blood had time to cool. If this did happen, the blood would congeal and possibly kill me.

If successful, the result of this swift operation would be a sore and aching seat for about three days. I agreed to take the risk. We then had a little chat, he explaining I would have to stand up ready with my trousers down whilst he drew blood from my arm as no time could be lost. “Was I frightened of needles?” he asked. He also pointed out that drawing my blood out in such a large quantity, would have a mental effect on me but on no account must I feel faint or want to sit down.

The syringe was warmed and put into the artery of my right arm, it was a very thick needle. I began to feel my strength ebbing but remembered what I had been told. As soon as the syringe was filled the surgeon and his assistant got behind me. I felt a jab as the surgeon began emptying the syringe, whilst the sailor massaged my bottom to distribute the blood. At last it was over, I was warned to keep walking about and to eat standing up, the walk to the mine should help.

In the ensuing days, I continued to have my neck treated, this slowly improved and eventually healed. I had no further trouble regarding blood disorder and the soreness in my bottom went after five days.