Towards the end of 1943 we managed to form a concert party. We held the plays on an upper floor as this gave us more time to disperse if any Japanese came into the compound to snoop around. We were getting one day a week off. This was on a Thursday, as the Japanese in our area had every Thursday as a rest day. But some men still had to go out on work parties if they worked in another area of the jail.
Lieutenant Field and Corporal Caton were the two most responsible for putting on the concerts and plays. All that we had as regards costumes were some old bits of blankets and mosquito nets loaned out by the men and officers. However, using a little imagination the audience seemed to enjoy what was being performed. But on no account could they applaud or clap, as that would have brought the Japanese down upon us. All they could do was tell the performers after the show whether they had acted well or otherwise.
Owing to the more frequent bombing raids on Rangoon the Japanese did not want us to see the damage that had been caused, so there were periods when there were no work parties outside the perimeter of the jail. It was during these times that we became extremely bored. Nothing was brought in to replenish our meagre rice rations and we were back to the basic rations of weak vegetable gravy to go with the rice.
Just before Christmas we were told to hold ourselves ready for work on the docks, but owing to the amount of bombing this would have to be done at night. So at about eight in the evening we were marched out of the jail down the main road to the docks.
Two Japanese freighters were berthed and ready for unloading. By the time we were ready for work it was quite dark. We were split into four parties, two to each ship. With very little lighting except around the unloading area the parties on the dockside had little trouble in taking one of the unloading cases to the rear of one of the massive warehouses. The case was opened and the wood of the case was easily discarded by getting near the water’s edge and letting it fall gently into the river.
A number of cases were opened and found to contain ½ lb tins of meat, peaches, pears, pineapples and some mixed fruit. Some cases also contained small dolls and trinkets, which were made up in bags like Christmas stockings. This, of course, created quite a bit of merriment, to think that we were going to rob the Japanese of their Christmas toys. Some of the cases went into the river by ‘accident.’ Our return to the jail in daylight was very quiet, as each man was concentrating on getting his hoard through and past the guards.
Fortunately everyone got through without mishap. As we entered the compound those who had not been out stood waiting to see what we had smuggled. The goodies were immediately hidden in various places. The total for that night’s work was about 200 tins of meat, sixty tins of peaches, twenty tins of pears, ten tins of pineapples and a number of bags of trinkets. It worked out that on average each man had brought in about three tins each.
During my stint on the deck of one of the ships I had time to snoop around, looking over the riverside of the ship. I saw a small sailing boat tied alongside. When I went back the next night I made sure that I was on the same ship. I had a plan that if I could get the person on the sailing vessel to help me down the river unnoticed, then I could sail the boat out to sea. Everything was right for such an adventure. The food was there and so was the water. All I wanted was someone who could sail a boat. If the person on the boat would not go we could do it alone.
During the day I approached an Australian friend. He had sailed a junk to escape from Singapore but was captured when he entered what he thought was a friendly port only to find it taken over by Japanese troops. I thought he was the ideal person to accompany me on such an adventure. He said that he thought it a mad idea to try anything like that, but would I give him some time to think about it? I told him that I would try and contact the man on the boat that night, and would see him when I returned the next day. Again we marched to the docks, and I managed to get to the same ship, but this time I was not thinking about how much swag I could get, but waiting for an opportunity to go over the side to talk to whoever was on the small boat alongside.
It was about two o’clock in the morning when I slipped away from the crowd of workers. I got near the water’s edge and, in between some drums that were stacked on the quay, slipped off the bits of rags we called clothes, rolled them into a bundle and stuffed them between the drums. Naked, I swung my legs over the water’s edge and clung with my hands until my feet found one of the uprights. Then, getting my feet onto one of the horizontal beams I managed to get beneath the quay. The tide was coming in. The water was only about four feet from where I stood. I got down and let my feet and legs dangle in the water.
The night was warm, and the water not too cold as it lapped against my legs. I let go my hold, and with a little splash dropped into the water. The tide pushed me against the rough timbers. So, putting out my hands, I pushed away and struck out with an overarm stroke. I kept well under the shadow of the quay, but at the same time kept away from those rough stanchions. I had a little difficulty in making for the ship as the river current took me downstream. Using my hands on the side of the ship, I edged my way along until I came to the bows of the small wooden craft. I dogpaddled until I was opposite the canopy, which covered the rear part of the vessel.
For a moment I waited, holding on to the boat with the tips of my fingers as the current tried to pull me away. Then with my one free hand I slapped on the canopy. There was no sound. I waited a while and patted again, this time a little harder. Now there was movement from under the canopy. A dark head appeared with two white staring eyeballs.
‘Urdhu jonta hai?’ I asked in a whisper.
The dark face looked at me in amazement as I poked my head higher above the side of the boat. ‘Kia mongta sahib?’ it asked.
‘Doe admi calco jaeger mongta, un bara Engliss sahib, doe lack rupee lager, teek hai? Teek hai nay?’ I prompted him. ‘Dae lack rupee, atcha hai, toom rajah hain!’ I asked him again, ‘Galdee geldee! Calco teek hai?’
For some time he pondered, then passed a dark brown hand over his face. He looked around to see if anyone was watching, then back to me. The whites of his eyes shone in the darkness. With a broad grin he said, ‘Teek hai sahib.’
I pulled myself further out of the water, drew my forefinger across my throat and said, ‘Nay boltah, jonta hai?’
He shook his head and said, ‘Teek hai sahib, may boltah.’
I sank back into the water. I found it a little more difficult to swim my way back, as the current was against me, but as the tide had come in it made it easier for me to clamber up the wooden stanchions and onto the quay. It did not take me long to find my ‘clothes,’ put them on again and go back and join the rest.
I still found some time to get a stock of tins. I looked mainly for the fruit as they contained liquid. These I hid at the rear of the warehouse.
On our return to the jail I did not go straight to the Aussie, but went and got my head down. I wanted to give him time to think it over. Our time was all topsy-turvy. We were aroused for our meal at two in the afternoon. We got a really good meal of the red meat with rice, followed by peaches and floured cakes.
The Australian was called Lofty because of his height. He was over six-foot tall. He was in the same room as me, and while I ate my food I called him over. He came and sat on the floor opposite me.
‘Well, have you made up your mind?’ I asked him.
‘It’s no good, Fred. You wouldn’t stand a chance,’ he said.
‘Look, I got it all fixed with an Indian. We’ll go tonight. We can be on the high seas and around the coast before daylight,’ I continued without waiting for him to speak. ‘If you want to dump the Indian, that’s OK by me. I only wanted him in case we needed him at the mouth of the river.’
‘What about food and water?’ he asked.
‘Lofty, I have got food stacked away at the docks, and we can get the lads to empty some of the tins and fill them full of water,’ I replied eagerly.
‘But I’m not even on the working party!’ he said, as if looking for any excuse to cry off.
‘That is the least of our worries. All you have to do is go to the officer in charge of tonight’s working party and say that you wish to change with someone.’
‘What about the winds and the tides?’ he then asked.
‘That’s where I need you,’ I replied, getting a little impatient, ‘otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you.’
‘Well, if I’m on the working party tonight, I’ll think about it,’ he answered.
Word got around that I was going to make a break. Captain Brown came to me and asked if it was true. I told him that it was but that I did not want too many to know about it.
‘Well, I have been ordered by the brigadier to ask you not to go ahead with it,’ he said.
‘Why should he give you that order, sir?’ I asked. ‘And why should I not have a go?’
‘The brigadier thinks that you may cause extreme hardship and suffering to the rest of us. Besides that, you may not succeed.’
I began to get a bit ruffled, and replied, ‘Nothing succeeds if nothing is tried, Sir.’
‘Am I to take it that you intend to go through with it?’ he asked.
‘Yes Sir,’ I answered.
His manner changed completely. He took hold of my hand and shook it, and said, ‘I wish you all the luck in the world!’
Other officers came and wished me luck and gave me small items that I might be able to swap for either money or food.
As we marched out I glanced at the brigadier who stood at the gate. His eyes glared at me as I went past him. Lofty was not on the working party, so now I had to put all my trust in the Indian.
The two parties settled down to the work of unloading. I carried on as usual, trying my best not to be noticed. Some of the men brought me some empty tins and some tins of meat that were already open for me to take with me. At about midnight I sneaked on board the freighter, passing the man working the donkey engine and across the steel deck to the side of the ship. I had wrapped my foodstuff and tins in my shirt and tied them around my waist. I climbed over the side and slid down the rope that secured the smaller vessel. As my bare feet touched down on the wooden deck it gave a lurch that sent the small craft bumping against the side of the larger vessel. The dark shape and white eyeballs appeared at the open end of the canopy. For a moment I stood still, leaning with my back against the side of the ship. The head of the Indian came out first, followed by his crawling body. He stood erect and began to shout. He got one word out and I was upon him. I had my hands around his throat, stifling any other sound he tried to utter. Quickly I drew him back into the dark and against the side of the ship. He was clawing at my fingers as I held him tight. My whole body was shaking. I looked into his terrified eyes and pulled his head close to my mouth. I whispered into his ear, ‘Mutt boltah! Mutt boltah! Teek hai?’ He forced a nod and I eased my grip. Perhaps the donkey engine had covered the shout. No one had come to look over the side, so I thought I was safe in that respect.
The man looked pitifully at me as I stood there still holding him. He too had changed his mind. I loosened my hold on him and he slunk back beneath the canopy. I still stood there, quaking in every muscle. I could not lift my arms to grip the rope. I do not know how long I stood there, but at last I turned and with a last look at the dark face that was watching me from the canopy gripped the rope and with my feet on the side of the ship climbed back on board and made my way back to join the others.
No one on the working party asked any questions, but as we marched back towards the jail I felt like making a dash for it, I was so depressed and let down. I felt that I could not face those who had given me stuff and wished me luck.
Upon entering the compound I found the brigadier standing there. His face widened into a broad grin when he saw me. Then as I entered into our room I was met by Lofty standing with his hands on his hips and his feet apart. ‘What went wrong, Fred?’ he asked, ‘wind in the wrong direction?’ Without hardly looking, but more by judgement, I swung my right clenched fist at his jaw. It caught him right on the point and he went over backwards and down. I then turned and went to my bed space.
I heard someone say, ‘He asked for that.’
I hardly spoke to anyone for a couple of days after that, except to take orders.
Early in March 1944 the Japanese decided to separate the two English compounds and make one into a sick compound, with some fit men to do the heavier work and cooking. This is what had been suggested a year earlier by the MO to make our compound free of sickness.
A few weeks later we had two separate working parties in two different parts of Rangoon. Shortly after arriving back from one of these parties one man was taken violently sick with both diarrhoea and vomiting. This went on through the night. As soon as the Japanese were informed he was transferred to the sick compound. Before the working party could go out another man went sick with the same symptoms. At this the medical officers got their heads together and came to the conclusion that we had got a cholera outbreak in our midst.
The Japanese were immediately informed, and all working parties were stopped. By the evening the first man had died and the second was not expected to last the night. Having sent the sick men into the sick compound, both compounds were now infected.
Strict measures were introduced in regards to hygiene, but the only cleanser we possessed was chloride of lime. With this we made swill basins. Every time one went out of the rooms and into the compound area we had to wash our hands and feet in the solution.
By the second day of the infection four men had died, two in each compound. We could not bury the dead because the Japanese would not allow us outside the prison. All they allowed us to do was wrap the dead bodies in sacks, open the gate of our compound, carry the bodies to an unoccupied compound and leave them there.
Everything that had come into contact with the dead men had to be burnt. It became a nightmare. Men were afraid to speak even to their closest friends in case they passed on the dreaded disease. Before the outbreak we used to sit in groups and talk at night. This did not happen now. Each man had to collect his own food so as not to make contact with anyone else. We were told that we must go for ten days without anyone showing any symptoms before the compound could be regarded as clear of the outbreak.
The medical officers made representations to the Japanese, but all they would do was look over the wall by standing on a ladder, as they would not come anywhere near us. The medical officers told the Commandant through an interpreter that they held him responsible for all the lives in the camp, and demanded that we be given anti-cholera injections.
Meanwhile three more men had died in the other compound, bringing the total to seven dead in three days. We in our compound were more fortunate. We had suffered no more deaths. We had only one who complained of a small pain in the stomach, which did not develop further. Another three died in the other compound in the following three days, while in our compound we had gone five days clear.
The other compound was still getting deaths and their total had gone up to twelve in eight days. We were on our seventh free day when we were told that we were all to be inoculated. The other compound was also given the serum, but not before their total of deaths had risen to fourteen. We had gone our ten free days, while the others had to go another eight days at least. The tension eased slightly after the tenth day, but still the Japanese would not come near us.
We were not allowed outside the jail, but it was decided that the best job we could do was to burn the bodies of those who had died during the isolation period. The Japanese gave us the materials and then locked us inside the compound to carry out the task of cremation.
We made a base of bamboo. This was dowsed in petrol. We then put two bodies at a time on the bamboo and covered them with anything that would burn. We ripped up floorboards from the rooms upstairs to put on top of the pyre. These were also soaked in either paraffin or petrol. We stood well back and made torches out of straw and flung them at the mound. In a swoosh the whole lot went up in flames. After a few moments it amazed us to see the bodies sit up as though ignoring the heavy planks that we had laid across them. We dug a large pit and buried the burnt remains in it.
The names of the burnt men were noted down by an officer. And so what we considered the worst period of our captivity ended.
All thanks must be given to those men who gave their lives tending the sick. No medals or mention in despatches for them. Just a hole in the ground in Rangoon Jail!
Meanwhile the aerial attacks were becoming so frequent that we were hardly taken out to work. We were nearly always forced to take cover from our bombers, with sometimes as many as two hundred planes of the B29 type flying over. These the Japanese called ‘flying hotels,’ and by the look on their faces we knew they made them feel a little sick, especially when their Zeros took to the air in an effort to attack back, which we noted was not very often now.
In late June of 1944 some more prisoners were brought in. Again these were men from a ‘deep penetration’ expedition, only this time they had come in by gliders. Those that were captured told us that they had overshot the landing areas and were then picked up in isolated areas. They were kept in solitary for about a week. When they came into our compound and told us about the second front which had begun and the counterattacks on the Eastern front by the Russians we all went berserk.
These men in our midst were so full of confidence that we fed off their belief, and we became elated. For the very first time in three years men who had hardly had a smile on their faces were now beginning to laugh again. Everything changed. Instead of walking around as if death was just around the corner, there was a spring in their step.
The new prisoners told us how the Americans were counterattacking in the Pacific on land and at sea. All this gave us a new lease on life. Working parties did not cease altogether but they were certainly curtailed. The Japanese themselves seemed to be getting friendlier. It was also noticed that the crueller elements of our guards had been moved away. There were fewer beatings for minor offences. Out on the working parties there were the odd arrogant Japanese who still thought that they were invincible. It was these who gave the odd kick and slapping now and then. But on the whole the majority of them must have realised the end was coming.
The general talk among us after ‘Tenko’ now was how the Japanese would deal with us when the crunch came. This had been the one question we had always asked. Would they try to take us with them, or would they dispose of us first and then go, or would they just go and leave us? If we were to resist any attack we must have food and water, so it was agreed that we should collect as many kerosene tins or anything that would hold water and store them up in the ceiling of the rooms, along with sacks of rice that had been amassed over the last few months. We also had tinned food hidden away if the Japanese were put under siege by our troops. They certainly would not give us any food or water.
All that we could do now was to wait and see and listen out for any scraps of information that we could get. We were also told, when we went out on work parties, to watch out for people who were still pro-British who could give us some signal or sign.
Very few new prisoners were now coming in. The remaining Dutch survivors had been taken away somewhere. One NCO and I were selected for a working party around October. We were put to work in a woodwork factory which was situated at the rear of the jail. The factory consisted of a number of wood-turning lathes. On these we were shown how to turn out wooden rifles from rough planks. There were two young Burmese youths with us in the factory, one of whom could speak a little broken English. It was through these youths that we obtained news of our forces in Burma and other information to keep those in the jail happy. Besides, we both got plenty of what we called ‘tailor-made’ fags and good food.
It seemed that the Japanese were going to copy the British idea of having the locals train with wooden rifles, similar to our own ‘Home Guard,’ plus the fact that they could put the dummy rifles with dummy men at certain locations to confuse our troops. The two youths informed us of the capture in the north of certain towns and how our forces had defeated a Japanese thrust towards India.
A day in November began with an early air raid warning. This stopped any working parties going out. We just hung around the compound in groups, waiting for the Japanese to fetch us. The all clear went, our officers formed us up and we got ready to go out of the gate, when the alert sounded again. No sooner had the sirens stopped than the bombers were overhead. They had come in very low over the sea, thus giving the Japanese very little time or warning. The Japanese HQ was only about a mile to the rear of the jail. We thought that it was this that the bombers were after. The second wave came over a little higher and let their bombs go slightly earlier, and one salvo fell right across the jail. One bomb completely demolished the cookhouse and killed one of the cooks. Luckily, most of the bombs fell in the garden and the unused compound, but still the casualties were very high. We had twenty-three killed and over two hundred wounded. The Indian compound also suffered a great number of dead and wounded.
The Japanese made the most of this by bringing in the press and taking photos for their propaganda. They forced prisoners to kneel by the craters as if saying their prayers. After clearing up the rubble and burying the dead, we once more tried to get back to normal.
Three days later the air raid sirens sounded again, but this time it was at night. It was the twenty-third of November 1944 and it was a cloudy night. The air was a little chilly. I had been suffering with a slight bout of malaria and I wrapped my blanket around myself and made my way to the slit trenches we had dug for protection against falling bombs. We could hear a plane circling above, but as there was so much cloud I doubt if the pilot or the bomb aimer could make out the target. After what seemed a long time someone shouted from one of the other trenches, ‘If you are going to drop ’em, drop ’em!’ As if in answer to this the bombs came screaming down.
As I sat there with my blanket around me I felt a drilling sensation on my left-hand side. The wall of the trench seemed to be closing in on me. I leaned against it and as I did I heard my shoulder go crack. At the same time earth and dust was falling over me. I tried to lift my left arm but it would not respond. I tried with my right and reached up. Earth was piled up on top of me. I was buried. In front of me was an American. He shouted through the wall of earth between us that he was going. ‘Hang on!’ I shouted back, ‘I’ll come with you.’ Every time I made a movement earth came down, closing my air gap which was getting less and less. The man behind was wriggling about so I told him to keep still as he would have no air to breath. I began to shout at the top of my voice. After what seemed a hell of a long time I heard scraping above my head, and through a small hole fresh air rushed down to me. I took great gulps as the hole was made bigger and my head was cleared of earth. ‘Quick!’ I shouted, ‘Get the man behind me. He must be nearly a goner!’ They left me and began to scrape away the earth with their bare hands, but had to stop as another plane came over. But this time it went further down the river towards the docks and let go its bombs there. The rescuers dug frantically at the place behind me. The man must have had his head well down, for they located his back first. By the time they got him out he was dead from suffocation.
The rescuers then finished getting me out. They had no tools and had to work with their hands. The American in front of me who had shouted had gone silent. When they dug him out he too was dead. There were twelve of us in that trench. Only three of us got out alive. All three of us had suffered dislocated shoulders. Mine was the left shoulder while theirs was the right. Being at the other end of the trench they had faced in the opposite direction. I was put into the sick bay for the night, fearing that I would be suffering from shock.
The next morning I got up and went to look at where I had been. To my utter amazement I could not have been more than ten feet from the centre of the crater, and I never heard the bomb go bang! I stood there, looking down, with some of the men who had dug me out. They turned to me and said, ‘Fred, you must have had someone praying for you.’
‘Yes, I have,’ I said, thinking of Father McGovern.