Burma Railway Man: Secret Letters From a Japanese Pow Page 16
Here at Korat, the whole platform is laid out with tables and chairs. Flags are everywhere. I have just eaten a delicious Thai meal of curried chicken, plus a kind of spiced mutton and good coffee and whisky (laus) to finish up with. Some of the banners are amusing, ‘To the victors of our country, welcome’, ‘Thai-Chinese welcome you’ and one private note of good wishes from, ‘The Anti-Japanese Secret Society’! Hosts of individual presents, too: some of the poorest brought rice in banana leaves.
We reach Bangkok tomorrow.
Weekly 25 Bangkok, Siam 26 Sept’45
My Dearest,
I seem to be falling quite naturally into the habit of writing the ‘daily’ once again. I wonder whether you’ll think all these letters worth reading or merely so much nuisance value.
There is a small civil war between the Siamese and Chinese going on here. This is not affecting us in anyway, as we are billeted at the airport under the wing of No. 11 Casualty Evacuation Unit of the RAF.
We arrived here this morning and saw our first English girl – a Lt.Col. in the Red Cross, grand daughter of the Duke of Somewhere and ADC to Lady Louie (Mountbatten). She looked as if she was pretty efficient – in bed!
It is great to be in the care of the RAF. No muddle here. Beds are stretchers on frames and there are really white sheets. Food is excellent – to our tastes – although one realises that it is the same old army food out of cans. There is an Indian Bathhouse Unit here, too, but I am rather wary of hot baths at the moment, so went for a magnificent swim in the drain around the paddy field – probably my last swim in the nude.
In the evening, I had the job of issuing free Players and a few odds and ends of Red Cross. We got T$10.00, too, and as this is the last opportunity of spending Thai currency, I went along to an Indian Canteen and blew it on coffee at T$1.00 per glass, a supper costing T$5.00 and the rest on Paradise bananas at 30c each. And a few days ago, one debated whether to spend 20c on an egg for lunch!! Times have changed.
Some Gurkhas near here have killed a couple of Nips on a working party, but an RAF fellow, who hit one, went up on a charge!
The War Criminals Courts have started in Bangkok and yesterday, Lt. Suziki (he was at Nong Pladuk and Kinsaiyok) was shot. Col. Toosey is going to Ubon by plane tomorrow to collect Major Chida and the rest. They are all going to get bullets.
Charles refers to a worrying tendency that affected all released Japanese POWs and that was the uncomfortable gulf that appeared between themselves and non-POWs. It all added to sense of alienation, which took sometime to disappear. For some, it never went away and caused strained relationships and, for some, the breakup of marriages.
Meanwhile, we are awaiting for evacuation by air tomorrow. I am in charge of No.54 plane apparently.
A couple of ‘Jeeps’ are here. These are most interesting and have apparently been in use some time.
There seems to be an invisible barrier between ourselves and ‘free’ men. On their part, they are embarrassingly polite and anxious to show unwanted sympathy. On our part, there is a marked inferiority complex and a tendency to shut up like oysters whenever a ‘free’ man comes along. I hope this wears off.
As each man arrived in Rangoon, he was handed the following printed message.
Welcome to Rangoon!!
At last the day has come. Three years of darkness and agony have passed, and a new dawn is here, bringing with it for all of us deliverance from danger and anxiety, and for you above all freedom after bondage, the joy of reunion after long separation.
Through these long years we have not forgotten you. You have not been at any time far from the thoughts of those even who had no personal friends or relatives among you. We of the Red Cross have tried every way of establishing contact and relieving your hardships. Some provisions have been sent, and many messages despatched; but we do not know how much had reached you, for the callous indifference of the enemy has made this task well nigh impossible.
But now that the enemy is beaten and you are free once more, we are doing all we can to give you the welcome you richly deserve and to make your homeward path a pleasant and a joyful one. If our preparations in Rangoon leave something to be desired, it is only because the end has come sooner than we dared to hope and has found us unprepared. These deficiencies will be more than made up by your welcome in India and your homeland.
On behalf of the Indian Red Cross and St. John War Organization, we welcome you. May God bless you and send you home rejoicing!
Weekly 26 Rangoon, Burma 27 Sept’45
My Dear,
We arrived here this afternoon after an enjoyable 2½ hours flight by Douglas Dakota. The crew were British, the pilots Canadian. The pilots invited me into their cockpit and showed me the workings etc. The navigator also explained the route and maps. We flew over the jungle and, for the most part, above the clouds. We crossed the Bay of Bengal at low altitude and finally made an unfelt landing at Rangoon. Things then happened in double time.
We were whisked away by IASE trucks to a WVS Reception Centre, where peaches and cream, bread and butter were waiting. Great kindness here. From there we moved quickly to the outskirts of Rangoon itself, where we went into No.52 Indian General Hospital. We are now quieter individuals, and not parties of men. I’m afraid units are split up all over the place. I have just been examined and got marked ‘Fit for Discharge’, but the fool insists on me taking mepachrine and vitamin tablets. These Medical people ought to be suppressed; they have such a good impression of themselves. I saw a talkie tonight and wrote two airmail letters – one to you, one to North Cray folk. Meanwhile, it rains steadily.
Weekly 27 Rangoon 30 Sept’45
My Dear,
I have been able to write airmail letters to you for the last two days, so have omitted these. Yesterday, I got your first letter and answered it straight away. Say, darling, did it give me a kick or didn’t it!! I feel like pushing houses over. Being greedy and very much in love with my wife. I wonder if you look differently or whether I do? I am hoping to come home by sea in order to let my hair grow! It looks like a buck navvy at the moment!!
We are getting to know the names of the men who died on the Mengui Road working party (see Weekly No.5). Of the 135th contingent, 17 died of starvation out of 35 and most in the first fortnight of August. After coming through 3½ years of beastliness, it is hard lines for a bloke to die in the last fortnight. I have visited survivors of this party in hospital here (we are now out of the 52 Indian General Hospital and in the No.6 Independent Beach Medical Unit) and find them pretty poorly. However, they have pretty VAD’s looking after them, so I expect they’ll be alright in time.
I have been into Rangoon twice now. What with Nip bombing, RAF bombing and Nip scorched earth tactics, it is now one vast dung heap as far as I am concerned. I have bought a pair of chaplies. Canteens are poor in the extreme, although in large buildings. Bananas are poor compared to the Siamese passion bananas, but better than the jungle ones.
I have contacted two of the Field Regiments here – the 27th and 139th. The 114, 134, 136, 160 and 304 are also here, I believe. I wonder where the good old 97th is now? The 25 pdr seems to have established itself as the world’s finest field gun. Apparently Jeeps are issued instead of motor cycles now. I have seen three films since arriving – all talkies; ‘Two Thousand Women’, ‘Saratoga Trunk’ and ‘Lady, Lets Dance’. The latter was especially good.
At long last, Charles and his comrades embarked for their journey back to England. Through the insistence of Colonel Toosey, the 135th returned together as a unit and were not split up as many other units were.
Charles took advantage of sea travel to indulge in a spot of people watching and, as ever, his observations were trenchant. He also felt a fleeting pang of conscience over the huge gulf between the Officers and Warrant Officers and the NCOs and Other Ranks with regards to accommodation and food.
Weekly 28 At Sea, Bay of Bengal 12th Oct’45
My Beloved,
You
will notice a break in the continuity of these letters. This due to the fact that on my removal from the Beach Medical Unit to the Transit Camp, I was able to write to you everyday (sometimes more often). Anyhow, I am once more unable to post letters so am continuing my impressions in this form. The further I get nearer home, the less use it will be to post letters.
We embarked yesterday at Rangoon and came down the muddy river in invasion barges. The Orbita was laying some miles downstream. A brief description of the vessel may interest you. She is about 16,000 tons and belongs to the Pacific Steam Navigation Co. She was built in 1914 and served as an auxiliary cruiser in the last war. In this war, she has been used as a troop ship, but ran aground in the Red Sea a few months ago. This is her first voyage after reconditioning at Belfast. She left Liverpool a month ago and is due back there with us.
The accommodation for officers and WOs is excellent. We have bunks with mattresses about 9″ thick, white sheets, a steward to do the necessary, and wash hand basins etc in the cabins. The mess is grand. The First Class Dining Room (cream paint pillars, concealed lighting, male waiters), is divided in two by a curtain. The officers are on one side, the WOs on the other. The food is absolutely tip top.
The Sergeants are in canvas bunks and feed separately in the Troops’ Dining Hall at a special sitting. The men are packed like sardines in the dim depths of the ship, but all appreciate the tiers of bunks instead of hammocks.
This luxury – for that is what it is – has come as rather a shock to us. I wish the difference between the Officers and WOs from the rest was not so great. For breakfast this morning, we had ‘Kellogg’s’ All Bran, a curry, then (we thought we had finished) a great plate of two sausages and four rashers of bacon, bread, butter (help yourself) and marmalade. Fresh milk and sugar ad-lib! Now, the ORs had some unsweetened porridge, one boiled egg, a chunk of bread and butter and I pot of tea. Last night, we had apple pie – real apples, mark you!
The WOs and Sjts have a lounge with individual tables and chairs, sofas and – a grand piano! The decks are now marked off and we have the whole of ‘A’ deck aft, the Officers ‘A’ deck forward. You have no idea how we feel, darling. This will help us lose our jungly complex in no time. The vessel is not very fast – 14 knots – (the Mount Vernon did 24 knots on her dash to Singapore) and by the time I get home, I promise you I’ll be civilised again. Yesterday was a great day. My hair parted for the first time!
There are three classes of people on board who interest us very much. The first is the waiters. These fellows are 17–19. You see, we haven’t seen youths of this age for 4 years. Another set who are ‘new’ to us are the old merchant seamen – grand old fellows, much over the age of the men we have lived with for so long. They are real ‘Dads’ and terribly fatherlike to us.
And thirdly, are those little bits of Heaven – the four children on board. These babies of 2–3 were born to civilian internee parents in Bangkok Jail. In spite of this, they look glorious. Their skins are like petals and their hair a mass of winter sunshine. Darling, you cannot imagine what it means to see these tots after the black, naked brats covered with dirt and sores that stumble under one’s feet everywhere in the East. They are supreme joy personified.
There are a number of women on board – civilians and IANS sisters. They are pretty miserable specimens and after seeing the superb carriage of the Chinese, Thai and Burmese girls, one can’t help feeling ashamed of these fat-bottomed, waddling white women. Thank goodness you know how to walk, darling. Thank goodness you have a glorious figure. Thank goodness you are YOU!
I will airmail or cable from Colombo, if possible.
The Orbita stopped at Colombo for a short stop, during which Charles and his comrades were served a lunch by WRNS, watched a film, sent cables home and were kitted out with new uniforms. The next time Charles put pen to paper was to send an airmail letter from Egypt.
Airmail 1 SS Orbita off Alexandria, Egypt 30th Oct’45
My Dear Girl,
A most interesting day yesterday, which started at Port Suez and ended at Port Said. The passage of the Canal took about 13 hours, with a stop in the Bitter Lakes (about half way).
The Canal is much as I expected, but the desert on each side was much more inhabited than I expected. In fact, almost all along there are military camps and installations by the side of a railway and a first class road. There is one swing bridge – the one used, I expect, when the 8th Army came down into Egypt to check the Germans at El Alamain. The famous ‘Desert Rats’, now in Germany, had left a large whitewashed message to ex-POWs on a wall by the side of the Canal.
An interesting sight were two of Italy’s largest battleships moored in the Bitter Lakes and heaps of scrap iron by the side of the Canal. These were once ships, unfortunately hit by Italian bombs, while in the Canal and now pulled out of the Canal after dynamiting. A number of Italian and German prisoners were also to be seen. These seemed well fed, were clothed completely and even wore boots.
We were at a picture show on ‘A’ Deck, when a blaze of light proclaimed our arrival at Port Said. The show was immediately cancelled and we swarmed to the side. What a sight! Lights everywhere. A great lean French light cruiser, the British cruiser HMS London and heaps of destroyers and submarines and merchant shipping, all blazing with lights. The comments exchanged between the sailors on the London and ours were very amusing. One enquiry, which drew a laugh, was when sailor enquired when were we going to hoist our sails – a comment on the Orbita’s staid, old age and respectability. She really does look like an elderly maiden aunt – but, nevertheless, she is getting us to where we want to go.
A number of officers and ORs of the Women’s Mechanical Transport Service are now on board. The ORs, three Sjts and Cpl and L/Cpl are feeding the WOs, but using the Officers’ lounge. The Cpls are the biggest girls I’ve ever seen. I never realised so much girl could be got inside a uniform. By Cod, they’re huge!
Airmail 2 30.X.45
Darling,
This is actually a continuation of my last letter.
We stopped at Port Said for about three hours, but were not, of course, allowed ashore. Troops rarely are, you know, in this sink of iniquity.
As soon as we stopped, dozens of bumboats came out. In each, was an Arab shouting in English, while a native strove desperately to reach the ship. The drill was this. After successfully fighting, ramming and pushing their boat to the steel sides of the liner, the salesman threw up a cord, which he enjoined those on board ‘to make fast, MacGregor’ (strange, how many natives learn their English from Scotsmen). A basket was attached to the middle of the salesman who held one end and you t’other. The wares were displayed below and conveyance of both money and goods was by this aerial ropeway. At times, it looked as if the Orbita was anchored by dozens of thin lines. Business was brisk at first, but rapidly tailed off, because people on board with more than 2d are very small in numbers. Prices fell rapidly. The staple industry of all these N.African lands is, as you know, leather goods (camel & kidskins). There are handbags and pouffe covers galore. Fortunately, earlier in the day, I got advance information that we were to receive a further payment (the RAF administration bought a lot of stale beer at Suez and are giving the troops a payment to cash in on it) and I managed to negotiate a temporary loan on the strength of it.
The handbag I got you is blue and white dyed camel skin – 7 knew you wouldn’t want the natural brown leather. I’m afraid that the inside isn’t up to pre-war standards as I remember them, but it doesn’t look too bad from the outside and should match the blue and white summer ensemble you told me about. It may see you through until handbags are obtainable in England again.
I was standing by the Squadron Leader, who is doing Paymaster in such a niggardly fashion, when he lost his wallet last night. This poetic justice rather pleased me. He started talking about his hard luck and grew fearfully narked when I reminded him that we should all he poorer together now. The administration (all grounded RAF officers, who
don’t care a damn) is too appalling for anything – and yet they won’t let us take over.
Weekly 29 Off Algiers 3 November 1945
My Dearest,
A lot of water has flowed past the Orbita since I laid down my pen. The above letter was written when I was 8,000 miles from you – now I am only 1,000 or so. It seems fairly certain that there will be no more opportunities to post mail, so I shall continue my notes in this form.
The Orbita is taking a route well clear of the normal trade channels. Between Malta and Gibraltar it is unusual to see land. We have had the coast of North Africa in sight all the way. Over on the port bow, the Atlas Mountains lay, fold upon fold, looking just the same as they did to the ancients who first explored this sea so many thousands of years ago. Bizarta and Algiers showed as clusters of tiny buildings completely dwarfed by the surrounding landscape. I have never seen so calm a sea. The whole area is like a still lake, through which the prow of our vessel cuts – with a swishing sound. Our track can be seen for miles. The water is blue, but not so blue as the Caribbean Sea. Darling, one of my many ambitions is to be able to afford to take you on a cruise or sea journey of some kind. Life on a ship is so utterly divorced from life on land. You would enjoy it tremendously – after the first day or so. It is a fact that the sexes are attracted by each other more while at sea – I think this explains the tangles, which involve the single on voyages. Even under the difficult conditions on this ship, I know that fun and games are going on between the Red Cross ‘ladies’ and some of the officers. As far as I can see, the Red Cross exists solely to give wartime uniforms to women who haven’t the guts to join a useful service and secondly to provide the commissioned ranks with a little feminine company in out-of-the-way places.