Robert Percy Edmunds was my father. During the Second World War he was a prisoner of the Japanese. In his own words, this is his experience:
I Was There
The War Time Experiences of a Prisoner of War
By Bob Edmunds
Part One
I arrived In Blackpool in May 1941, they gave me my uniform and dressed to kill, I soon found out there was already 30,000 others in the town with the same feeling of importance, after all, the posters said "Your Country Needs You". It didn't take me long to learn a few lessons, the first night in billets I left my small change in the bedside cabinet. Next morning after breakfast it was gone! Lesson no. 1 - be careful who you trust!
During our training we had to march past Lord Derby, great coats and rolled capes were the order of the day to be worn. The said gentleman was 2 and a half hours late, can you imagine standing in thick great-coats in a heatwave on Blackpool promenade? Lesson no. 2 - there were plenty of other idiots, not I might add, "country swedes"!
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| Dad is on the right |
After mid-June I spent a month at Cranwell learning how to operate Britain's latest secret weapon, Radar. In August it was down to real work, tracking aircraft in Devon. On returning from leave early in September I was put on Overseas draft to take the place of someone who they could not contact, so after 4 months I was supposedly trained and ready to defend some faraway place! Lesson no. 3 - experience didn't count, anyone would do to make up the numbers.
From then on I did nothing until December 8th when we sailed down the Clyde on the "Atlantic Castle" a large liner used for trade to South Africa. This was the day after the attack on Pearl Harbour by the Japanese.
We sailed north-west, the sea full of ships as far as the eye could see, a wonderful sight. After some days we turned South parallel with the American coast, then East, finding ourselves in Freetown, W. Africa on Christmas Day
Our kit suggested we were going to the Middle East, but at Durban we changed ships. This time it was the "City of Canterbury", in a filthy condition after carrying Italian prisoners. This change brought trouble and about 180 of our ranks were arrested and charged with mutiny!
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| City of Canterbury, the ship on which my father sailed to war |
Our next destination was Rangoon, and by this time the Japs were on the Burmese border and all was not well in Malaya. At this time the Australian Government had complained that Britain was not doing enough to defend Singapore, in fact they suggested that Churchill had already decided to give it up, so in an effort to placate the Australians we were diverted to Singapore.
Every morning at around 10 a.m. the sun would be in line with the entrance to the harbour and it was a good shield for the Japanese aircraft who came every day at that time to bomb anything and everything. There was in our convey three ships with about 4,000 men, the cruiser "Exeter", light cruiser "Emerald" and one other naval ship to protect us. Needless to say we arrived off Singapore about 10 a.m., and out of the sun came the Japs. Every ship had casualties, the "Empress of Asia" sank, but around 2,000 were rescued. When all was quiet the Harbour Master came out to meet us, saying "Who sent you here?" - not his exact words! - "we have too many to feed and water already".
We unloaded from the holds a large gun base, badly needed. eveything the Services required was piled high on the docks, next day the Japs destroyed it all. the gun base was too heavy to be lifted as the dock workers were on strike at the time - what a waste!
From it all I gathered that the left hand of those in control didn't know what the right hand was doing. The party had gone on too long, the good life had ended, and when they opened their eyes they found the jungle planned to be their defense had helped the Japanese, who were at the gates across the Causeway ...
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| Empress of Asia sinking after being attacked by Japanese dive bombers on 5th February 1942 |
Part Two
It was the 5th February 1942 that I found myself in Keppel Harbour, Singapore with 4,000 or more other servicemen who, as we surveyed the chaos all around, knew at once our position was far from good, in fact, hopeless. I had always understood Singapore was a fortress able to withstand any attack. How the picture had changed, the British Forces had withdrawn from the mainland some six days before, so with the water supply in enemy hands and the oil tanks ablaze, all hope had gone and it showed on the faces of everyone we met on the docks.
After we had unloaded the ship we did an about-turn and sailed back down the Straits, toward what we all hoped would be Australia. We had been joined by about 200 Australian soldiers who could see the danger of the Japanese advance and wanted to return to defend their homeland. We eventually arrived in the port of Batavaria (now Jakarta) in Java, then a Dutch colony. I had heard of it in my school days, rich in oil, coffee, rubber, sugar, tea, quinine, to name just a few of its exports; it had a variation in climate, was near the Equator - all this I remembered, but I was soon to learn much more over the next four weeks.
When we pulled alongside the dock our officer called us together, a Radar draft of about 40 men. He said "You are now in Java and quite safe from attack for some time to come". We came ashore with our kit, lined on the dock ready to march off. Within minutes we were diving for cover from Japanese aircraft! - so much for our officer's observations.
We spent some time moving around Java, the scenery I shall always remember. Eventually twelve of us were sent to Sitoebondoe, where we were joined by three Aussies, (two radar meachanics and an Officer). We were to set up an American mobile unit advised by two Americans, who then left in a hurry, hoping to get away from Java aboard a submarine. On starting operations we found the barrel of fuel given to us by the Dutch Army contained tar as well as diesel fuel so we were u/s. The equipment was cleared, more fuel obtained, and at last we had information to pass on to H.Q. We failed to get an answer and after many attempts a Dutchman came on the line and said everyone had gone, General Wavell had left some days earlier, and it was now every man for himself.
Our first job was to destroy our equipment and prepare to join the local army group and move to the mountains to "fight in the hills". As yet we had not seen a single rifle, we were given an old Buick tourer, a van with solid tyres, and another old car. We arrived at what was to be our camp in the mountains, a coffee plantation, my bed being on the griddle that selected the beans. Next day, as it was necessary to keep fit, we were ordered on a route march, (we were now under Dutch command). We led the march, still with no weapons, and as we could see a road above us we decided we were sitting targets. When we returned we heard all Allied troops had surrendered and that the Japanese had taken the island.
After some discussion twelve of us told the officers we were going to make for the coast, we were joined by two Dutchmen and given a lorry with some supplies, the old Buick and 20,000 guilders. We also had two machine-guns and set off for the coast, an exciting journey speeding through the night, not knowing where the enemy was now!
On arriving at a coastal town we found an 18-foot sailing boat, we purchased an outboard motor and a small boat to hold our supplies; we hoped to reach Australia across the Timor Sea. At this point we were told that an Australian business man had left his yacht at a port some 200 miles down the coast, in sight of Bali, so once more we moved on. We came to Banjawangi in the early morning and discovered a Cable and Wireless booster station, where the Manager made us very welcome.We found the boat, the diesel engine needed some attention. Meanwhile the Japanese had made all Allied Commanding Officers responsible - on their lives - for handing over all troops in their area, so an armed guard was placed to stop us leaving. It was now the middle of March, we had been joined by two soldiers, and after talking over the situation it was decided eight should return to the the sailing boat, the maximum we thought it would take. Two friends and I said we would stay, the others cast lots who should go, they left with the motor transport at once ...
Our first job was to destroy our equipment and prepare to join the local army group and move to the mountains to "fight in the hills". As yet we had not seen a single rifle, we were given an old Buick tourer, a van with solid tyres, and another old car. We arrived at what was to be our camp in the mountains, a coffee plantation, my bed being on the griddle that selected the beans. Next day, as it was necessary to keep fit, we were ordered on a route march, (we were now under Dutch command). We led the march, still with no weapons, and as we could see a road above us we decided we were sitting targets. When we returned we heard all Allied troops had surrendered and that the Japanese had taken the island.
After some discussion twelve of us told the officers we were going to make for the coast, we were joined by two Dutchmen and given a lorry with some supplies, the old Buick and 20,000 guilders. We also had two machine-guns and set off for the coast, an exciting journey speeding through the night, not knowing where the enemy was now!
On arriving at a coastal town we found an 18-foot sailing boat, we purchased an outboard motor and a small boat to hold our supplies; we hoped to reach Australia across the Timor Sea. At this point we were told that an Australian business man had left his yacht at a port some 200 miles down the coast, in sight of Bali, so once more we moved on. We came to Banjawangi in the early morning and discovered a Cable and Wireless booster station, where the Manager made us very welcome.We found the boat, the diesel engine needed some attention. Meanwhile the Japanese had made all Allied Commanding Officers responsible - on their lives - for handing over all troops in their area, so an armed guard was placed to stop us leaving. It was now the middle of March, we had been joined by two soldiers, and after talking over the situation it was decided eight should return to the the sailing boat, the maximum we thought it would take. Two friends and I said we would stay, the others cast lots who should go, they left with the motor transport at once ...
Part Three
The camp at Ianjong Priok, Batavia was used by the Japanese as a transit camp for slave labour drafts to all parts of the Pacific war zone, including the railway in Thailand. We were told the drafts were "for plenty of work and plenty of good food and everything very, very nice", told in typical Japanese style with a smile and a bow, the smile would then turn to a sickly grin
I was put in a party of 1000 men and 100 officers, in April 1943 we travelled overnight by a train to the port of Soerabaya. We spent a few days there and about the 22nd we were put aboard a Jap merchant ship carrying war materials for an unknown destination. We were crammed into the cargo hold, the only air came through a trap door at the top of the stairs leading to the deck; and the toilet, which was a box fastened to the rails at the side of the ship, was also a focal point for the "Geisha Girls" who travelled as "comfort girls" on most ships. Below it was impossible to lay full length, so very difficult for taller men, there were flies and filth everywhere. Our kitchen was next to the crew toilets, the food was rice and soup, for the soup fish in a wire basket was dipped in hot water, taken out immediately and cucumber or other vegetable bits added to the liquid. Items of any value were taken by the guards, all protests were ignored - little did we know then it was a first-class journey and peaceful compared with what would follow over the next 18 months for many of us!
We arrived at the port of Ambon, a former Dutch naval base in the Spice Islands. I had never heard of the place, and I wonder how many of those who read this can find it on a map, or knew of its existence? Here we disembarked and set out the march to a point on the other side of the island, it was to take two days. We marched three abreast, on my right was Alan, like myself just 22-years old, he was 6-feet 3-inches tall and a fine friendly person; on his right was Len - - not much over 5-feet tall, slim and 21-years old. It was not long before Alan began to feel the effects of the cramped conditions on the ship and his legs were giving way. By now anyone who dropped behind were beaten with rifles, etc by the guards, so Len and I helped him along. Eventually our officers obtained a lorry for those who fell out. I think at this stage our guards, who were few in number, were a little bit worried as to how we would react. After 13 months of captivity we had become a tough bunch not yet weakened by starvation, and many showed they were getting "hot under the collar"
Alan never really recovered, he worked for a while but in October died from malnutrition - going from 14 stone to a mere shadow (A plaque in his memory can be seen in Buttermere Church in the Lake District). Len was never ill ...
For the first night's stop we camped at the mouth of a river where there were just a few tents and a mobile kitchen which provided a mug of boiled maize and a cup of watery tea. Because it made a soft bed many of us slept on the sandy beach only to be awakened during the night with a thunderstorm and to find ourselves surrounded by the incoming tide! Next morning after a breakfast of watery rice, (known to the locals as "Pap" similar to paperhangers paste) and the usual weak tea, we set off on a march of about 12 miles to the site which was to be my home for the next 12 months - to the day. It was near a village called Leyate.
The camp was non-existent, just a few tents and a partly built hut. As we arrived another thunderstorm broke out so a few of us made for a tent to "stake our claim". By doing this we found ourselves at the back of the food queue, and then we reached the serving point the rice had all gone. To make matters worse another storm came and flowed through the tent like a river! We were based on the edge of a jungle area, the site was on coral rock, lumps of all sizes making it most unsuitable for a camp, no roads or path and no water.
The water problem was overcome by joining large bamboos with soft-wood collar, placed on tripods making a gravity feed from a spring a good half mile away. Due to the heat shrinking the joints it was only a trickle when it reached the camp, unfortunately this had to be near the only place where it was possible to dig the latrines, it was the lowest point also little rock.
As the first hut was completed it was filled to overflowing, it was a long hut with a door in the middle and one at each end. Dysentery had become widespread and I leave it to your imagination, the floor spaced covered with bodies, those in the middle needing the toilet making for the door, their only clothes a loin-cloth, desperate to reach their objective. A stumble over a sleeping body and it was too late - in no time 75 young men were seriously ill.
Our work was a mile from the camp, carrying earth etc; from a high point to tip on the beach to make a runway for Jap fighter planes, we were about 600 miles from Port Darwin. The earth was carried by two men in a round basket hanging from a pole between them. The first thing we did was to turn the basket upside down, stamp on it, so that the centre of the bottom reached halfway up the inside, hence we only carried about half the quantity.
Every day brought some incident, one I still remember well. We had just finished on the runway, thirty or so of us lined up to march off when a guard, for some reason hit out with his rifle at one of our men. He tried to protect himself, in doing so he knocked the rifle to the ground. He was taken away and never seen again, killed by a sword near the camp As enough fit men were not available to work, the sick men were made to help, those who couldn't received less food.
By October the Japs decided to take the very ill back to Java and asked for stretcher bearers. Myself and four pals volunteered, thinking whatever happened couldn't be worse, two were taken and three left behind. The ship sailed and was never heard of again, according to records it may have been sunk by an American submarine. All Jap ships were not marked, that is no "Red Cross".
At Christmas 1943 I was one of 100 men split into two groups to work at the town of Ambon, our party slept in a building very much like the sty we kept the pig in at home! We spent several days dispersing oil drums, the other party doing the same near a swamp area. They suffered from a cholera-like fever and many died.
In camp we were not allowed to gather in groups but sometimes we would post a lookout on the doors and hold a short service with hymns we knew and prayers, led by Harry, who had been a travelling actor before he joined the RAF.
In February 1944 I had an ulcer on one eye, then the strain of working of on white coral almost closed the other, my hands were sore with septic scabies, when I saw the Doctor I was put in the sick bay, rather a surprise as the Doc was a Dutchman not known for his compassion. I realise now I probably had a heart condition.
There are many stories I could tell you of my eight weeks stay in the sick bay, how rats ate our makeshift bandages even if you kept them near you while you slept; sores were covered during the day because of flies, and left open at night. Of scabies patients bathing in the same cut-off oil drum in P.P. crystals, one drum of water bathed a dozen or so men. Of Joe, a 6 feet 21 year old, coming into what was called bed, he said "I've had enough", he sat down and joined his Maker there and then. then there was a Dutch soldier with progressive gangrene, in terrible pain and no medicine.
My friend Stan who was still working would collect edible weeds, cook them and share them around. I was included in a sick draft that left the camp on May 1st 1944 for Ambon harbour to board a ship bound for Java. As a stretcher case I was the last one on the quay, where a Jap. C,O., a Major Anami, decided I should stand up, when I couldn't he kicked me on the tree. At last on board, there was limited space and I was placed on the edge of the hatch with an awning overhead to keep off the sun. The walking sick had to sit or lay on the deck around the hatch. This was a terrible journey, a Corporal was beheaded and a Warrant Officer badly beaten up, only saved by a crewman when he dashed into their quarters; all this happened on the well-deck of a small ship.
Part Five
After the eight men had left us to go back to the sailing boat our host at the Cable & Wireless station, knowing that time was short, had called on two coffee planters to come and advise us. They were willing to help us, but as the natives would have sold us out for the smallest reward, we thought it unfair to also put them in danger.
Our next move was to the quayside where we offered a Javanese fisherman 1000 guilders to take us to Australia. As this was a fortune to him he found it hard to say "No" - but in the end that was his answer, so we were back to "square 1".
The next morning we were awakened by excitement and commotion outside, and quite early we were called upon to parade by the local Dutch officer in charge. We soon found that the Japanese had arrived when they took charge and lined us up with our backs to the wall in front of an armed guard. We all thought our time was up, but after standing for a couple of hours we were put in the back of a lorry, joining a convoy on our way through the mountains to a prison camp. It was late on the second day when we arrived at Malang, a large town in Central Java, where we parked in a large open area with army vehicles as far as the eye could see, a sad sight. The Japanese troops had used bicycles for transport when they landed and moved quickly under all conditions. Our prison camp was in an Army barracks surrounded by mountains, some volcanic, and although near the Equator, the heat of the day was similar to a hot June day, due to the height above sea level.
At first things went along quite quietly but gradually they "turned the screw" and made it difficult for us. First the British were interrogated, I was accompanied by the Dutch C.O. When the Jap. Officer said "if you don't tell me the truth I will shoot you", the C.O. said, "take no notice of the silly so-and-so, tell him anything that comes into your head". We were then given a form to fill in, mostly questions, one being "what would you like to do now?" We all answered "Go home". One morning early we had to parade on the football ground for an inspection by a Japanese General. The word went around that they were taking our clothes away, leaving only what we stood in, so we paraded dressed in two each of whatever we possessed. The General was late, the sun was very hot and I think we lost pounds that day! At last he arrived, "knee-high to a duck, the seat of his trousers wiped out his foot marks, his sword tickled his armpit, and the peak of his cap rested on his nose." How ever could they have come so far so fast - it didn't do a lot for our morale.
On the first morning of working parades while the Jap. sergeant was using his bead-board to count, my friend and I slipped away from the end of the row and back into camp. It meant we spent the day avoiding patrols, it was never worth it, so after that we would have to use other methods to avoid helping with the war effort.
As time passed we were joined by other British soldiers as they left the local hospital. Before the Japs. landed a troop train carrying the 77th A.A. Reg. (mostly Territorials from S. Wales) was in a collision with a train pulling oil tanks on a single track, resulting in at least 50 killed and many injured, the latter now gradually increasing our numbers.
During the next months we lived o a knife edge, four Dutchmen were executed, first having to dig their own graves, the penalty for escaping. We had to patrol inside the wire fence to prevent others from getting away. Many prisoners were punished by the "Dripping Tap", - shut in a cell with nothing to drink, but in earshot of a dripping water-tap; and there were many other similar tortures.
At the beginning of 1943 we were moved to Batavia, a camp occupied by all British Army and Air Force, as well as Royal Naval survivors from the Battle of the Java Sea. It was good to be with our own again, as here we could hold church services, around an altar built by our troops. At this time the Jap. C.O. was a Christian, - he soon moved on, probably because of his religion.
By this time we were getting to know what to expect from our captors, but little did we know why we had been brought here and what they had in store for us. The road ahead was that which no other British troops had trod before ...
At first things went along quite quietly but gradually they "turned the screw" and made it difficult for us. First the British were interrogated, I was accompanied by the Dutch C.O. When the Jap. Officer said "if you don't tell me the truth I will shoot you", the C.O. said, "take no notice of the silly so-and-so, tell him anything that comes into your head". We were then given a form to fill in, mostly questions, one being "what would you like to do now?" We all answered "Go home". One morning early we had to parade on the football ground for an inspection by a Japanese General. The word went around that they were taking our clothes away, leaving only what we stood in, so we paraded dressed in two each of whatever we possessed. The General was late, the sun was very hot and I think we lost pounds that day! At last he arrived, "knee-high to a duck, the seat of his trousers wiped out his foot marks, his sword tickled his armpit, and the peak of his cap rested on his nose." How ever could they have come so far so fast - it didn't do a lot for our morale.
On the first morning of working parades while the Jap. sergeant was using his bead-board to count, my friend and I slipped away from the end of the row and back into camp. It meant we spent the day avoiding patrols, it was never worth it, so after that we would have to use other methods to avoid helping with the war effort.
As time passed we were joined by other British soldiers as they left the local hospital. Before the Japs. landed a troop train carrying the 77th A.A. Reg. (mostly Territorials from S. Wales) was in a collision with a train pulling oil tanks on a single track, resulting in at least 50 killed and many injured, the latter now gradually increasing our numbers.
During the next months we lived o a knife edge, four Dutchmen were executed, first having to dig their own graves, the penalty for escaping. We had to patrol inside the wire fence to prevent others from getting away. Many prisoners were punished by the "Dripping Tap", - shut in a cell with nothing to drink, but in earshot of a dripping water-tap; and there were many other similar tortures.
At the beginning of 1943 we were moved to Batavia, a camp occupied by all British Army and Air Force, as well as Royal Naval survivors from the Battle of the Java Sea. It was good to be with our own again, as here we could hold church services, around an altar built by our troops. At this time the Jap. C.O. was a Christian, - he soon moved on, probably because of his religion.
By this time we were getting to know what to expect from our captors, but little did we know why we had been brought here and what they had in store for us. The road ahead was that which no other British troops had trod before ...
Part Four
I was put in a party of 1000 men and 100 officers, in April 1943 we travelled overnight by a train to the port of Soerabaya. We spent a few days there and about the 22nd we were put aboard a Jap merchant ship carrying war materials for an unknown destination. We were crammed into the cargo hold, the only air came through a trap door at the top of the stairs leading to the deck; and the toilet, which was a box fastened to the rails at the side of the ship, was also a focal point for the "Geisha Girls" who travelled as "comfort girls" on most ships. Below it was impossible to lay full length, so very difficult for taller men, there were flies and filth everywhere. Our kitchen was next to the crew toilets, the food was rice and soup, for the soup fish in a wire basket was dipped in hot water, taken out immediately and cucumber or other vegetable bits added to the liquid. Items of any value were taken by the guards, all protests were ignored - little did we know then it was a first-class journey and peaceful compared with what would follow over the next 18 months for many of us!
We arrived at the port of Ambon, a former Dutch naval base in the Spice Islands. I had never heard of the place, and I wonder how many of those who read this can find it on a map, or knew of its existence? Here we disembarked and set out the march to a point on the other side of the island, it was to take two days. We marched three abreast, on my right was Alan, like myself just 22-years old, he was 6-feet 3-inches tall and a fine friendly person; on his right was Len - - not much over 5-feet tall, slim and 21-years old. It was not long before Alan began to feel the effects of the cramped conditions on the ship and his legs were giving way. By now anyone who dropped behind were beaten with rifles, etc by the guards, so Len and I helped him along. Eventually our officers obtained a lorry for those who fell out. I think at this stage our guards, who were few in number, were a little bit worried as to how we would react. After 13 months of captivity we had become a tough bunch not yet weakened by starvation, and many showed they were getting "hot under the collar"
Alan never really recovered, he worked for a while but in October died from malnutrition - going from 14 stone to a mere shadow (A plaque in his memory can be seen in Buttermere Church in the Lake District). Len was never ill ...
For the first night's stop we camped at the mouth of a river where there were just a few tents and a mobile kitchen which provided a mug of boiled maize and a cup of watery tea. Because it made a soft bed many of us slept on the sandy beach only to be awakened during the night with a thunderstorm and to find ourselves surrounded by the incoming tide! Next morning after a breakfast of watery rice, (known to the locals as "Pap" similar to paperhangers paste) and the usual weak tea, we set off on a march of about 12 miles to the site which was to be my home for the next 12 months - to the day. It was near a village called Leyate.
The camp was non-existent, just a few tents and a partly built hut. As we arrived another thunderstorm broke out so a few of us made for a tent to "stake our claim". By doing this we found ourselves at the back of the food queue, and then we reached the serving point the rice had all gone. To make matters worse another storm came and flowed through the tent like a river! We were based on the edge of a jungle area, the site was on coral rock, lumps of all sizes making it most unsuitable for a camp, no roads or path and no water.
The water problem was overcome by joining large bamboos with soft-wood collar, placed on tripods making a gravity feed from a spring a good half mile away. Due to the heat shrinking the joints it was only a trickle when it reached the camp, unfortunately this had to be near the only place where it was possible to dig the latrines, it was the lowest point also little rock.
As the first hut was completed it was filled to overflowing, it was a long hut with a door in the middle and one at each end. Dysentery had become widespread and I leave it to your imagination, the floor spaced covered with bodies, those in the middle needing the toilet making for the door, their only clothes a loin-cloth, desperate to reach their objective. A stumble over a sleeping body and it was too late - in no time 75 young men were seriously ill.
Our work was a mile from the camp, carrying earth etc; from a high point to tip on the beach to make a runway for Jap fighter planes, we were about 600 miles from Port Darwin. The earth was carried by two men in a round basket hanging from a pole between them. The first thing we did was to turn the basket upside down, stamp on it, so that the centre of the bottom reached halfway up the inside, hence we only carried about half the quantity.
Every day brought some incident, one I still remember well. We had just finished on the runway, thirty or so of us lined up to march off when a guard, for some reason hit out with his rifle at one of our men. He tried to protect himself, in doing so he knocked the rifle to the ground. He was taken away and never seen again, killed by a sword near the camp As enough fit men were not available to work, the sick men were made to help, those who couldn't received less food.
By October the Japs decided to take the very ill back to Java and asked for stretcher bearers. Myself and four pals volunteered, thinking whatever happened couldn't be worse, two were taken and three left behind. The ship sailed and was never heard of again, according to records it may have been sunk by an American submarine. All Jap ships were not marked, that is no "Red Cross".
At Christmas 1943 I was one of 100 men split into two groups to work at the town of Ambon, our party slept in a building very much like the sty we kept the pig in at home! We spent several days dispersing oil drums, the other party doing the same near a swamp area. They suffered from a cholera-like fever and many died.
In camp we were not allowed to gather in groups but sometimes we would post a lookout on the doors and hold a short service with hymns we knew and prayers, led by Harry, who had been a travelling actor before he joined the RAF.
In February 1944 I had an ulcer on one eye, then the strain of working of on white coral almost closed the other, my hands were sore with septic scabies, when I saw the Doctor I was put in the sick bay, rather a surprise as the Doc was a Dutchman not known for his compassion. I realise now I probably had a heart condition.
There are many stories I could tell you of my eight weeks stay in the sick bay, how rats ate our makeshift bandages even if you kept them near you while you slept; sores were covered during the day because of flies, and left open at night. Of scabies patients bathing in the same cut-off oil drum in P.P. crystals, one drum of water bathed a dozen or so men. Of Joe, a 6 feet 21 year old, coming into what was called bed, he said "I've had enough", he sat down and joined his Maker there and then. then there was a Dutch soldier with progressive gangrene, in terrible pain and no medicine.
My friend Stan who was still working would collect edible weeds, cook them and share them around. I was included in a sick draft that left the camp on May 1st 1944 for Ambon harbour to board a ship bound for Java. As a stretcher case I was the last one on the quay, where a Jap. C,O., a Major Anami, decided I should stand up, when I couldn't he kicked me on the tree. At last on board, there was limited space and I was placed on the edge of the hatch with an awning overhead to keep off the sun. The walking sick had to sit or lay on the deck around the hatch. This was a terrible journey, a Corporal was beheaded and a Warrant Officer badly beaten up, only saved by a crewman when he dashed into their quarters; all this happened on the well-deck of a small ship.
Part Five
After landing in Java it meant another long train journey to Batavia, eventually we arrived at St Vincentrous, a school turned into a hospital. Fortunately Red Cross medicine had just arrived and I was given vitamins for Beri-beri, I also had Jaundice and Enteritis. Once we had been deloused and washed things began to improve. Next to me the man had his legs with weights and pulleys to straighten them, in great pain but thankful to be alive as he was nearly given up for dead on the train.
It was to be another year before we were released, meanwhile I started to walk again and gain some strength, hoping to avoid further drafts being formed for Taiwan, Thailand and Japan. I moved to several different camps, we received our first Red Cross parcel, one between 5 men in 1945, some had been pilfered by the Japanese. In July I was among 5000 prisoners at Bandoeng, in hut's built of atap - very thin interwoven wood strips - it was said, if American or Allied troops landed our camp would be set alight, as all Jap. C.O.s had orders to dispose of P.O.W.'s in the quickest way if the enemy attacked in their area.
It was some days after the atom bombs when we were told the war was over. Then the Japs. had to protect us against the local natives, who were rebelling against their former masters, the Dutch.
I arrived hole in late September after a journey via Singapore and the Suez canal. After a long leave I was demobbed in April 1946. I was told I could not receive the Pacific medal because I had not served 6 months in this country before I went overseas' I would only receive the 1939-45 Service Medal. I refused to sign. They wouldn't let me go home until I did, so I signed, and after a medical exam that lasted about five minutes I was discharged as A.1 fit! my back pay for 3 and a half years amounted to £247, later on we all received £75 which was from the sale of the now infamous railway and other assets, NOT from the Japanese Government, as we are often told.
This is roughly my story of captivity, you have probably not heard of Ambon; P.O.W.s were sent to work on two more islands i moved around as work progressed Of the 1100 men who arrived at Ambon only 247 were alive at the end of the war. On one ship that left in October with men from three islands nearly 300 died. In Borneo 500 men set out on a march, only a handful arrived at the destination. a ship bound for Singapore from Batavia without markings, carrying P.O.W.'s and native labourers, was torpedoed off Sumatra by an Allied submarine with the loss of 2000 lives
When I reflect on all these things I think how lucky I am after 50 years to be able to write how I saw life in P.O.W. camps. I thank God that I am still mobile and able to enjoy the beauty all around us, but whenever I see something Japanese I remember those I left behind in the East Indies (now Indonesia). At that time the cream of British young men, most were tokens of Churchill's intent to defend Singapore to appease the worried Australian Govt; worried about the rapid Japanese advance toward their homeland.
My father died in 2001.
Note: Liang was his camp in Ambon
