This gave us new hope. It told us that the Japanese were driving them down before our troops could get them.

The interpreter came to our compound and asked for carpenters. One or two stepped forward. From the two compounds, there were six volunteers. These men were taken away and returned for the evening meal and ‘Tenko’. Naturally they were questioned by all. On the first day they could tell us very little, but two days later they told us they were making big long boxes, like coffins, only wider. This had the rumours going well and truly!

The first rumour was that the boxes were to put all our officers in after they had been killed. But we argued that the Japanese would not waste time and wood. They would just bump them all off and dig a big hole to put the bodies in. The mystery of the boxes went on for some days. A theorist came up with, ‘Perhaps they are going to get the twenty most senior officers, tie them up, put two in each box and cart them away.’ The carpenters told us that there was no lid, but the theorist said they would be open to the air and would be seen. After all we had a brigadier (British), a colonel (British), another colonel (American) and quite a few majors of all nationalities, as well as squadron leaders and wing commanders. So there could have been something in that.

It was one day early in April that a number of us were taken with a sergeant in charge to the guard room, but instead of going past as was usual for working parties we were turned right towards the condemned cells. Through the bars that separated the yard from the cells we could see a line of fresh Japanese troops whom we had not seen before. They were standing in a line with bayonets fixed. About twenty or thirty feet from them lay the wide boxes, all set out in a line. We were made to stand by the bars while the guard went to get the key to unlock the gate. Everyone in the party was looking a bit worried and looking at each other. My throat had suddenly got quite dry and I found it difficult to swallow. All sorts of things went through my mind. Eventually the guard returned with a key and we all trooped in sheepishly behind the sergeant. We were led to the line of boxes. There we had to wait. The sergeant went with the Japanese into a kind of outhouse. After a while he came out and called for six of us to come into the outhouse. There we had to bring out long shafts and large wheels. The Japanese drilled holes into the boxes and the shafts, and some of the men fitted the shafts onto the boxes with nuts and bolts. Axles were fitted and the wheels put on. We could now see that they were huge carts that could be pulled along. Not only had the mystery of the boxes been solved but there was also a great sigh of relief when it was realised that the line of new Japanese troops were having morning drill rather than execution drill on us prisoners!

Of all the Japanese guards that were on duty in the jail at this time there was just ‘Billy Bunter’, the interpreter. All the others had gone. These new troops who had taken their place were much easier with us and they hardly ever came into the compound, except for the usual ‘Tenko’ or to request working parties.

On April the 23rd 1945 we were assembled in the compound. All who were considered unfit to walk were sent to the sick compound. All the fit men from the sick compound were brought to us. At six o’clock that evening we were marched out of the gates of Rangoon Jail with what few belongings we had, led by the Commandant. We had been issued with bits of old Japanese uniforms and shoes which they insisted we should wear, but most of us still had our bush hats on our heads in preference to the cloth caps they had given us. Also in the column were some RAF air crews who had not seen the light of day for some weeks. They had been starved and were very weak. We, the fittest, were asked to keep a look out for them and to watch that they did not fall out, as we were not sure what would happen if they did.

The six carts were pulled by four men in the front and pushed by two men at the back. There were about four hundred of us in the column. This included Chinese, Indian and others. The carts were spaced apart along the column. We all had to take turns pushing or pulling.

The carts as far as we knew at the time contained most of the guards’ kit and gear. The foodstuff was sent on ahead by a lorry.

Once out of the jail we were directed onto the main road towards Mingaladon Airfield. This was in a northeasterly direction. We had no idea where we were being taken, but we did know that our forces were coming south. We were going north, so that made our march easier to handle. It was estimated that the airfield was about eight miles away, and some of the men who had fought around that area in the first campaign had an idea that we were being taken over the Sittang River and into Thailand.

Our first stop was in a wood well off the road. We were herded together like cattle in a pen so the guards could keep an eye on us. The first thought in everyone’s minds was to make a break for it, but it had to be in the right place and at the right time, as some of the more senior sergeants said. It was no use just dashing off anywhere only to run into some Japanese who would just shoot us on sight. We would have to wait until we were further north and then decide when to move.

We moved off again in the dark. It was about eight in the evening. We were all very keen to make it well past the airfield as we did not want to be in the open if a night raid was made on the airfield by our planes. The ‘old hands’ that had been this way before thought that the best place to make a break for it, if there was a chance, was at the junction of the Prome Pegu road. It was here that they thought our troops would make a push, to cut off the retreat of the Japanese from the south.

We passed the aerodrome during the night and were very glad to see it behind us. As we marched we thought that we could hear the rumble of gunfire in the distance. Behind us there were also a number of explosions, and pink glows appeared in the sky. The Japanese were doing their demolition work.

On April 25th, at 8.20 am, we were halted at the thirty-fourth milestone from Rangoon. Camp was made in a clump of bamboo at the side of the road. A handful of rice was our meal, the first since leaving the jail. We tried to get some sleep as best as we could. Some men had already collapsed with exhaustion. With the lack of food and water we could only wait for our best opportunity to slip away.

Our bombers passed overhead many times during the day as we tried to sleep, but we dared not move for fear of bringing them down upon us.

We began again at about seven in the evening. It was my turn to go on the carts. The six of us were all companions in the jail and we worked it so that we took turns in front, then at the back. We were regarded as the best fiddlers in the compound, so it was not long before we found that our cart not only carried the Japanese kit but also some tinned food. We also managed to smuggle one of the weak RAF men under the load of kit, which helped us, for while he was lying hidden he got hold of some of the tins and passed them out. We passed this information to the other carts, so they did the same. When we stopped, the man had to get off and mix as quickly as he could with the others. About ten minutes after one of these stops the word ‘kouushuu’ was passed by the Japanese. This meant an air raid.

Almost immediately a lone plane, a Mosquito, swooped down from the dark sky above the road. We scattered to each side of the road into the brush and undergrowth. Its guns chattered as it went by. It turned quickly and came back down the road again. I swear that it was no more than fifty feet above the ground. The moon was well up. We were sure that the pilot had seen the carts parked on the road. On the fourth run he dropped a bomb about four hundred yards further up the road. After the all clear was given we again moved off. Where the bomb had dropped we could see that a number of bullock carts that the Japanese had been using had suffered serious damage.

A little further on, we came to the Prome Pegu road junction. Here there was plenty of commotion. Japanese troops were moving about. At each side of the two roads there were burnt-out vehicles. We went for about three miles up the right-hand fork before we were again halted for the day’s camp. A handful of rice was handed out for our meal. Water was our main problem. At this point there was none to be had anywhere.

To be truly safe it was felt that our troops must intercept us before we reached the next road after passing through Pegu. Some of the officers had insisted that we all keep together and not make a break for it. Brigadier Hobson tried to make this an order, but most of us said that if the chance came we would take it.

The majority of us took it that now it was every man for himself. After all, we did not know what lay ahead of us, even if the Japanese got us to the railway line and to Bangkok. What then?

On April 27th, about eight in the evening, we began to march again. It was not long after starting that one or two men and officers were falling at the side of the road totally exhausted, only to be kicked and beaten to their feet. Those of us who were comparatively fit tried our best to give them some help, but we were shoved away and told to get back in line. Some of them never got to their feet again.

At about eight in the morning of the 28th the Japanese told us to leave the carts and get under cover. They appeared very agitated. The place where we stopped was partly gorse and partly bamboo. We had not been off the road for more than ten minutes when we heard the roar of planes. There were four Spitfires, a grand sight under any circumstances. They passed right over where we were, saw something and came back. The noise of their engines and the chattering of their guns, together with the boom-boom of their cannons, made a terrific noise. They kept this up for about half an hour.

It was at this time that most of us decided that the best time to make a break for it was while there was an air raid on, but others disagreed with this option, saying it was sure death to even breathe heavily during an air attack, let alone run.

The planes went away, and the Japanese were shouting to us to fetch the carts and put them under cover. It was not long after that the planes returned.

After the planes had gone again we were told that we could help ourselves to what was on the carts, as they were not being taken any further. My companions and I made a beeline for our cart, knowing more or less what it contained. Although we had already depleted the stock considerably I packed as many tins and packets of cigarettes as I could into an army pack which I had picked up before leaving the jail. This as good as told us that the end was now very near and that we must watch our every step.

We made a meal using the juice from the tins of fruit to quench our thirsts. We were about seven miles west of Pegu and about twelve to fourteen miles from the junction of the Tangoo road. Here the Japanese made us leave the road and go across country. It was dark as we picked our way through the rough undergrowth. I looked around to see if any Japanese was watching and sidled off to the right, going in a northerly direction. I was going by the North Star. Then in front of me I could hear voices. I got down on my hands and knees so that the light of the sky was behind whoever was in front of me. I could make out the shape of a Japanese steel helmet. I also heard the sound of that hated language. So as fast as I could I made my way back the way I had come and re-joined the ranks of weary and tired men.

We went back onto the road just before we entered Pegu. As we passed over the bridge to enter the town we saw the Japanese placing charges ready to blow it. We did not stop but went on through the town which was more or less just a pile of rubble. There was not one whole building standing.

About four miles out of the town we rested for about ten minutes. After the short rest we struck off the road once again and followed the railway line. Everyone by this time was extremely thirsty, as we had only the fruit juice which we had shared and tried to make it go around as best as we could. We had not had water to drink for two days. Beneath the railway lines there were some pools, but they were covered with green slime. The only way to get anything from these was to make a grab and let the drips fall through the fingers and on to the tongue.

We marched on and on along the railway line through the darkness. The fitter men helped those who were not so fit. Quite a number of times we were forced to stop because our planes were flying overhead. Perhaps it was as well that we fitter men had stayed with the column. Otherwise many of the weaker ones would surely have died.

Dawn of April 29th came with a crash and a bang as the Japanese blew up the bridge at Pegu. There was a great flash to our rear. We were guided towards a large clump of bamboo. There were a number of huts among the trees. From some of the ‘old hands’ we learned that this was a small village called Waw. In the middle of the village there were two wells. We clambered around to wet our parched throats. The Japanese then allotted areas for us to rest.

We estimated that we had covered just over one hundred miles in six days and in bare feet. We all got down into our own little spot to get some rest for the night’s march. To where was anyone’s guess.

We were told by the Japanese that this day the 29th April was the birthday of Emperor Hirohito, whose ancestor was none other than Jimmu Tenno, son of the Great Sun God and ruler of the mighty Nippon, the Land of the Rising Sun. None of us cheered. As a matter of fact we had our own ideas about that subject.

I had barely got my head down to get a bit of sleep when I was roused by the man next to me. He told me that we were all to assemble at the wells. I got up and made my way with all the others. There standing on one of the wells and surrounded by all the men and officers was Brigadier Hobson.

He waited until we were all close enough to hear what he had to say. There was a general hubbub going on. The brigadier shouted ‘Quiet!’ at the top of his voice. He put up both hands and in a quieter voice said, ‘Quiet and listen.’ Everyone fell silent. His face broadened into a smile. ‘Men! I have the news that you have been waiting a long time to hear.’ He paused and looked around at the faces below him, took a deep breath and shouted, ‘We are free!’ It took some moments for the words to sink in, and then everyone shouted. Some did a jig. Some just sank to their knees and cried. Men were shaking hands with each other and slapping one another on the back and saying that they had never thought that it would happen like this. ‘Quiet!’ It was the brigadier speaking again. ‘The Japanese have gone. I have here a letter that says to other Japanese units to allow us to go free.’ We all looked around us to make sure that there were no Japanese about and to make sure that they had really left us and gone. There was some mumbling among the gathering, and I voiced my opinion about that letter. We had been with the Japanese too long to rely on a piece of paper. If any Japanese did come along I for one would not give them even a chance to read it, but would be off. Knowing them and the way things were going for them at the moment, showing the letter would simply be asking for either a bullet or a bayonet.

It was with this that we dispersed to our own areas. It was decided among the officers that we should put out some sort of signal to warn our planes that we were in the vicinity and needed help. As it was now about ten o’clock in the morning there were many of our planes passing over.

All the white cloth that we could collect was mostly underclothes from the Japanese and off the carts. These were placed out to attract the attention of any aircraft coming near. A number of us set ourselves outside the white signal when any aircraft did come near, and we waved our hats and arms to attract them towards us.

I had taken up a position with a squadron leader, Duckenfield, who had organised the setting out of the signal. He drew my attention to four specks in the sky coming from the northwest. ‘They are Spits and they are coming straight this way,’ he informed me.

We both began waving our hats like mad with both arms waving wildly. Suddenly Duckenfield began shouting, ‘Get up, you daft bastards!’ As the planes began to peel off, he was still waving. ‘Take cover! They’re going to strafe us!’ he shouted to me. I made for the nearest tree. Turning in my flight, I saw the spurts of dust coming up as the shots hit the ground. The chattering of the guns made a terrific din as they came down towards us. The scream of the engines was deafening as they neared the place where I found refuge, behind a huge tree. I glanced back to where the squadron leader was still standing and waving. I saw him jump into the air and go sideways as the spurts of dirt approached the spot where he stood.

The four planes came over the trees with their guns and cannons blazing, turned and came down again. The next time they changed course and came down in the opposite direction, so I moved to the other side of the tree. On the fourth run down they came with their guns firing. The first one dropped a bomb at the front of the wood, and the last one dropped a bomb on the back end. It was as if they were trying to panic us into running to that side of the wood.

All went quiet as the planes flew off. For a moment I remained where I was and thought of the squadron leader. He dusted himself down with his cap and walked towards me.

‘That was a near thing, Sir,’ I remarked.

‘Stupid bastards!’ he spat out. ‘Don’t they recognise an RAF officer when they see one?’

The aircraft were Spitfires from the Indian Air Force.

We both walked back together to the village, expecting to find many casualties. We asked a cluster of men how many men had been injured.

The reply astounded us. ‘Only one, Sir.’

‘Who was that unfortunate man?’ the officer asked.

‘The brigadier, Sir. Killed instantly by a cannon shell in the back.’

The brigadier had set up his HQ in one of the huts in the village. This was like all other huts in Burma, raised off the ground on stilts. He had been standing up when the attack happened and caught one of the first bursts of fire.

After the air attack we were all doubtful about the safety of staying where we were, as those planes might think that we were some enemy troops and could return at any time. It was therefore decided to disperse into the jungle until such time as we could make contact with our ground troops. We left on the understanding that we would return at dusk to find out if any contact had been made.

I along with some others went off into the jungle in search of food. At the same time we kept our ears and eyes open for both friend and enemy. I managed to find some bamboo shoots, which I shared with the others. When the sun began to drop and darkness was upon us, we made our way back to the village, guided by the light of a haystack that had been set on fire by one of the bombs. Many of the men were there. Some had stayed there all the time and they told us that quite a number of Japanese had gone past but they had kept themselves hidden. After hearing this we gathered tree branches and bamboo sticks from the buildings in the village. We then formed a perimeter around the village and lay in wait, just in case we were challenged by any Japanese stragglers.

No contact had been made with our frontline troops, but after about an hour four Japanese armed with rifles came near. When they were about ten yards away we all jumped up together and shouted, showing our sticks. They stopped, turned, and ran as fast as they could into the darkness.

I told my companions that I would give it about one hour. If no contact was made by that time I was going to make my own way. They did not try to stop me when I said that I was going.

Leaving the village I went in a westerly direction. I did not hurry. I just took my time, going very quietly and carefully. Picking my way through the undergrowth I listened for any sound and stopped now and then to look skywards for the stars to give me a guide. I found the Plough and from that the Pole Star. I stopped and rested often and listened to the different insects as they made their own type of noise. Except for these there was hardly any sound.

I must have been on the move for well over an hour when to my ears came the sound of voices. They were being carried on the slight breeze which was also stirring the tops of the trees. I froze, standing perfectly still, listening and straining my ears to catch one syllable that might tell me who they were.

The sound came from my left. Slowly I sat down among some brush and turned my head first to the left, then to the right in an effort to catch another sound, but there was none. All was silent again. After a while I decided to go towards where the sound had come from. I moved slightly to my left, going as carefully as I could and moving from tree to tree until I came to some open ground. The only light was coming from the stars. I dropped down onto my stomach and lay flat for a time, not moving a muscle. I could see before me the black outline of trees against the skyline on the other side of a paddy field. As I lay there viewing what was in front of me I saw some figures pass across my vision. I was almost sure that they were wearing British steel helmets. My heart gave a flutter but I still hesitated. I was not going to throw caution to the wind. Not now, I thought. I did not want to get this far and then miss the boat, like the brigadier. Keeping flat I edged myself over the paddy bund and began to wriggle forward. Stopping now and then I must have gone thirty yards on my belly when I heard voices again, this time more distinct, and I was sure that they were either Hindi or Urdu. I was about to go on a bit further when there was a prod in the small of my back. I went hot, I went cold, and I began to shake. I kept perfectly still, lying flat on my stomach with my hands outstretched in front of me. The thing was still pressing into my back. Sweat was pouring from me.

Then a voice in broken English said, ‘Get up and keep your hands above your head.’

When I heard this I felt so relieved that I wanted to jump up and hug whoever it was. A pencil of light shone on my back and as I rose to my knees I could see my own black shadow thrown onto the ground in front of me. I raised my hands into the air. No other words were spoken. Hands began to search me, and I saw that I was almost surrounded by armed Indian troops. The man with the small torch came around in front of me. He shone the light first onto my face and then up and down my poorly clad figure. I could just make out a large burly sort of person and in the light I could make out three stripes on the khaki shirt. I could also see that he was shaking his head as he looked me over.

I had two men standing behind me. They began to speak in Hindi and gently propelled me forward with the officer leading the way. I followed with my hands still in the air. As we crossed the paddy field I could now see other men and some vehicles parked alongside the trees. As we passed the men there were gasps of astonishment and some murmuring as it was seen what sort of prisoner had been taken.

I was marched to one of the vehicles. In front of it was an English officer, a captain wearing the soft type of hat. His look of amazement when he saw me made me almost burst out laughing, but I managed to keep a straight face.

‘Where the hell have you come from?’ he asked wide-eyed, as if I was from another planet. ‘And where are your boots?’ Before I could give an answer he asked in one breath, ‘And your arms, man?’

I began to explain to him who I was and what had happened. As I did, his jaw began to sag open, and he stopped me talking.

‘Hold it, hold it. Jemadar!’ he shouted. The NCO came forward, and they talked in Hindi. I was immediately given a blanket and seated in the back of one of the trucks. Food and drinks were brought to me together with cigarettes. I told the officer about the others and warned them that some of them were in a much worse state than I was.

I slept soundly in the back of the truck. As soon as dawn came I was sent back to Brigade HQ. There I joined up with all the others who had been found very early that morning and had suffered no casualties. We were sent further back to Divisional HQ. Here we were issued with fresh clothing and toilet things such as soap, towel, razors and shaving brushes. We could also take a bath!

General Slim came and greeted us and shook each one by the hand and told us that it would not be long before we were back in ‘Blighty’.

After some days we were flown to India. We were put into the Military Hospital at Secunderabad. Here we were given our first pay. So we went down into the town and celebrated.

Sometime after that I received news from different sources that out of the fifty men of my unit who had begun the journey from Taunggyi in the southern Shan state of Burma, only five had survived.

The first party to move out from the copse at the Irrawaddy River was Sergeant McAteer and his men. They were caught in an ambush and all killed.

The second party to move out was ours. Three survived. Sergeant Friend was picked up by a missionary and taken to Kunming. Bland was picked up by some communists and also taken to Kunming. And myself.

Captain Brown was the sole survivor of his party. The rest died on their way to Sumprabum or further on.

Of the colonel’s party, only one made it across the Irrawaddy to the other side and safety. The rest perished in the water.

Kin-Maung, the traitor, was hanged by the military in Rangoon Jail after a trial in 1946.

The two young white girls who witnessed me being tortured in Washung were reported to be roaming about Burma with two or more offspring of the Japanese army.

This is the end of my true story that spanned three years.