Burma Railway Man: Secret Letters From a Japanese Pow Read online

  The frequent heavy rains caused landslips that undermined the rail bed along the route. It was to one of these trouble spots that Charles was sent.

  Ban Pong March’43

  Darling,

  A surprise.

  Two days ago I was sent here with an RA Lt. and fifty men. We are forming a working party for some Nip Army Engineers, who are straightening the line after a tropical downpour had caused it to sink in some places. We are living in huts near a Thai temple. The advantage of a small party like this is that if the Nips are decent – these are very good – one has a fairly decent time. The Nip officer here speaks English and is very polite and does his best for us. We have no one from the POW administration. Consequently, we are allowed to deal with the Thais etc. We are getting food from the Nongpladuc POW Camp nearby. I cannot understand why we don’t sleep there but am glad we’re where we are ….

  A lot of Dutch and US troops are coming through Thailand en route to working camps up country. They have stacks of kit and are only too anxious to sell it for Thai currency. We ‘old hands’ are buying it cheaply and then flogging it to friendly Thais at night. No one goes to bed until about 2am and we haven’t been caught yet.

  Even the rice sacks, which the Dutch leave behind, bring a dollar each. Mr. Wilkinson (Lieutenant Wilkinson was a former sergeant major and described by a fellow officer as prickly but a tower of strength in a tight corner) is busy buying watches and as busily selling them the next day. This is a stroke of luck. The biggest we’ve had. We’re in the money – and that means food!

  This relatively tranquil interlude gave Charles pause to look about and describe his surroundings.

  The Siamese temple is a peculiar building, with either walls or open sides. At one end sits a Buddha. The priests wear brilliant yellow robes and are known as ‘the Mustard Club Boys’. I shall try to draw one of these temples, which are surrounded by monuments and graves.

  The horns on the ends of the roof are to prevent demons from sliding along them. Practically all buildings in Thailand have these. The roofs are usually covered with glazed tiles in bright colours. All around the temples are great trees and shady walks. The tombs, or are they just memorials? – are pointed in the traditional Siamese style – and out as high as a man.

  Each part is brilliantly coloured in reds, yellows and blues.

  Life in the temple is not so secluded as in European monasteries. Of course, many of the priests are professional, life long, priests but the rank and file are made up of lay men. All males in Thailand serve as priests or novices for some period during their lives when it is most convenient for them. They are not paid but depend upon charity for food. Every morning, a troop of the yellow gowned figures leave the temple and, armed with pots and pans, baskets and bags, go the round of the markets and streets collecting donations in kind from the inhabitants. Rice from one, bananas from another, tea from a third. If they get a lot, they feed well – if not, they don’t, but I haven’t seen many starved priests about.

  They have a band which is played during services but I cannot describe the din as tuneful. No instruments (all cymbals, drums and trumpets) seems in time or not with the others. It really is discordant in the extreme.

  There seems to be a similar order for women Buddhists, but these are few and far between. They shave their heads and wear white robes and are most unattractive.

  This relatively pleasant month-long break from the everyday misery of camp life came to an end, but not before Charles suffered another crushing disappointment.

  My Dearest,

  I am in a fever of anticipation. We hear that the impossible has happened and some mail from home has arrived at the Nong Pladuk Camp. Officers from Tamarkan have gone there to get those for the Camp. We are trying to get ours from Nong Pladuk.

  There must be, there will be, just one letter from you. This is all I want. Just one letter from you. Oh God, I must hear from you, after these 18 weary months’ silence.

  Charles could barely conceal his despair in his next letter.

  The mail has been dished out but I feel sure that some has gone astray. Practically all the 50 men had one or two – some six, but neither Lt. Wilkinson nor myself were fortunate. He was furious; I just dazed with disappointment. I was just shocked into silence. It is just like having a plank removed from one’s feet.

  Wilky (the Lt.) swears most terribly about his wife and is going to be most violent when he gets home if he finds she isn’t troubling to write. I can’t believe this of you.

  Of course, what troubles me is the question of bombing. If I heard that you had died or been killed, I shouldn’t return home: there wouldn’t be any point in it.

  I feel right at the bottom of the world today, so won’t write anymore.

  Charles, Lieutenant Wilkinson and the work party were sent back to Tamarkan at the beginning of April.

  Back to Tamarkan, to find everyone with four or five letters, but none for me.

  There are rumours of a general move up country, as the big bridge is almost finished and trains passing through OK. The rumour says that the Nips are behind schedule in the No.6 area (Kinsaiyok – in the range of mountains this side of the Burma border), owing to the difficult country and numbers of prisoners dying.

  Many badly sick POWs are coming down country in lorries, many dying on the way. Some died at this camp today and were buried in our rapidly growing cemetery. The ulcers are terrible – great wounds reaching to the bone. An enormous amount of dysentery and malaria, too. This is where we are going. A happy time will, apparently, be had by all.

  With the completion of the great bridge over the Kwae Yai, Tamarkan’s function changed from being a workforce camp to a base hospital. Colonel Toosey was ordered to remain with just a few of his men to help organize the camp to accept the increasing numbers of sick prisoners arriving from the camps up country. Before the Tamarkan workforce was dispersed amongst the other camps, they received a copy of a letter of thanks from the Japanese, which managed to combine both a sense of unreality and self-delusion.

  TO ALL ENGLISH AND DUTCH

  Since coming here for the construction of the MEKURON BRIDGE, all men have worked very hard, day or night, rain or fine, through scorching heat, mastering every difficulty and have obeyed Japanese orders.

  I am very satisfied with the result achieved. I now give a letter of thanks to all men for their work.

  Take good care of yourselves and keep your chins up. And I hope you will return to our camp safe and in good spirits.

  And I pray to God for the sake of all men.

  Like all his comrades, Charles dismissed this as ‘Nippon Nonsense’.

  Chapter 8

  ‘Speedo’

  With the worsening strategic situation in Burma, the High Command in Tokyo were forced to shorten the construction time by four months. A frantic period known on the Railway as ‘speedo’ caused a leap in the death rate and a huge increase in sickness. Such was the pressure put on the Japanese engineers to complete the project ahead of the original target, that prisoners were subjected to the most appalling treatment just to meet the new deadline.

  Sickness was no longer tolerated and men who could barely stand were kicked and beaten until they either died or attempted to carry on working. Monsoon rains and a reduction of rations further debilitated the already starving prisoners and medicines had all but been exhausted.

  Charles was sent up the line just before this panic was inflicted upon the prisoners.

  Arrow Hill May’43

  My Dearest,

  A short note while I am lying down. We left Tamarkan on the first of the month. A train stopped and we had to climb onto the trucks loaded with railway lines – red hot with the sun. It was a terrifying experience gripping the lines, which shifted as the train jerked over the roughly laid lines.

  At Wunberg, the train stopped for hours and a terrible thunderstorm burst, drenching us all in a few minutes. It poured for ages and at the end turned cold. The tra
in travelled all night with us shivering with cold and wet, hanging onto the wet rails in the darkness.

  At about 2am it stopped and we got off and were told to lay down by the track. It rained and we tried to light fires to dry ourselves. I was detailed by Capt.Keane (OC Party) to

  take about 50 men at 4am to the camp near the river to get breakfast, which the IJA said had been laid on. It was dreadfully hard finding people in the darkness, worst still finding the camp in the jungle and disappointing to find that they knew nothing about us when we got there. This is a common occurrence with IJA arrangements.

  I got some rice from the Nips and about 20 of us cooked a plain rice breakfast for the four hundred or so men. We finished about 10am. I went to the river and washing and and am now resting before lunch, which I believe is going to start.

  Arrow Hill (Arohuil) was the extent that the Japanese transported their prisoners. From now on Charles and his comrades had to endure a gruelling five day march until they reached their destination at Kinsaiyok, 117 kilometres distant.

  We started the march from Arrow Hill at midday. The route was along the track and the going was terribly hard. We were carrying all we possessed plus cookhouse utensils. The heat was terrific. In places one could only walk from one sleeper to sleeper and at others along narrow tracks.

  At Wampo, we crossed an amazing bridge, which carries the rails above a bend in the river along the face of precipitous cliffs. The whole thing is of wood!! And very high.

  The Wampo Viaduct was a rickerty structure that defied gravity as it clung to the sides of the high cliffs above the river and was one of the most difficult tasks that the prisoners had to complete. Indeed, its construction had cost many lives and the marching prisoners were glad to leave it behind. Incredibly, it is still in use although concrete bases have been added.

  We saw many parties of POWs, who seemed also too weary to greet us. The Koreans followed in the rear, making the POWs carry their kit and urging more speed. I saw one officer sit down, only to be attacked by a guard with his rifle butt. These Koreans are devils!

  Some men fell unconscious with heat stroke and will, I hope, be looked after by local POWs. I sat down once and couldn’t get up again owing to cramp but the MO, with whom I was sitting gave me a saline solution and put it right.

  We got to Tarsao at about 11pm, after 11 hours march of 25 kilometres. I was almost completely exhausted. Many men drank river water – terribly dangerous thing to do. We were given rice and two small pieces of cucumber. People simply couldn’t touch it. The four hundred men were given 2 tents to hold 10 men each.

  The second day’s march was along the road that the Nips used to get into Burma. Our blistered feet were very unhappy at first. At Tonchan Camp, the local POWs, themselves in a miserable condition, gave us tea to drink.

  We finished our tramp at a camp, where many men were stood to attention because they got water from a spring before the Japs. Dried vegetables – like seaweed and with a bitter taste – to eat, if one could.

  The third day’s march took us to a camp in a swampy area on the edge of jungle. Men had to stay up all night instead of resting to keep up fires because the Nips were frightened of wild animals.

  The fourth day’s march took us to an Australian Camp (Kanu), where remarkable strides had been made with bamboo pipes. They had tapped a stream and conveyed water by pipes all over the camp. Here many men were sick but only ulcer cases were allowed to stay in by the IJA. Many talk of brutalities at all the camps. It rained here and we got wet.

  The fifth day’s march brought us to Kinsaiyok (Banyan Tree), 170 kilometres from Ban Pong, in mountainous jungle covered country, through which the river twists and turns with treacherous currents. There was no accommodation and I am sleeping under the Dutch dysentery hospital on the ground.

  We were allowed no rest, but went out to work on the day following arrival.

  Despite the beauty of the surrounding countryside, the conditions at Kinsaiyok Camp came hard on Charles and his comrades after the organization and comparative orderliness of Tamarkan.

  Notes from Kinsaiyok May’43

  Now in a hut – but all huts are rotten and have collapsed, so that the eaves rest on the ground. Have to stoop to get in.

  Next hut (used as a transit hut) in deplorable state. Loads of mice, excreta, old worn-out boots all over the place.

  No POW administration in this Camp. IJA take all men out on work. Chase out sick with bamboos quite often. No hospital recognised. MO made to carry rice only yesterday. Capt. Keane beaten up when protesting.

  Food beyond belief:

  Breakfast; Rice, dried veg. ½ pt.river water.

  Lunch; Rice, ½ inch square dried fish

  Dinner; Rice, pumpkin stew or dried veg. ½ pt river water.

  Men going down with the squitters very rapidly. Fly infection probably to blame. Work is drilling rocks with drill and hammer; then clearing rock after blasting. The Nips are devils incarnate!!

  We rise in the dark, ‘eat’ and go on parade in the dark, squelch through the mud to work, work all day, get back in the dark and sleep the sleep of the dead.

  This is a terrible place.

  May’43

  My Dear,

  We are not allowed in the river to wash, but wash under a waterfall which enters the river some ½mile from Camp.

  The Japanese here are most unpleasant. Although some are old acquaintances from Tamarkan, they have all changed for the worst. We hear them at night-time listening to pep and propaganda speeches by Officers, who have their naked swords over their heads.

  The situation is that the schedule is behind in this area, but nevertheless the railway must be got through in time. If you saw the country, you’d never believe that any railway would get through. Roughly speaking, the normal situation is that the river is in a deep, steep valley of rocks. The railway has to cling to the face of these rocks and follow the line of the river. (A similar story to the Wampo Viaduct).

  All the work is hammering drills into the rock in order to lay charges which blasts away the rock. Then there is the task of carting the rock away. There are many long viaducts to be built – these are being built of wood straight out of the jungle. Cutting these trees down and dragging them out is the worst and most arduous job of all. There are Thais working with elephants, but we do it by sheer manpower and the sting of bamboo on one’s shoulders. The Thais will not allow their elephants to work too hard. We have no protection society. The last line of ‘Rule Britannia’, will get a rude reception next time we hear it …

  I am down with my first attack of malaria. Not too severe, but sufficiently unpleasant. I had dengue fever at Bukit Timah. The Japs had us out today carrying rice. One goes into hospital with malaria in a normal country and has about a month’s convalescence!!

  At the end of May, the Japanese sent out work parties to those parts of the line where there were smaller but vital obstacles to overcome. Charles was one to be sent up the line to endure even greater privations. His letters begin to reflect his despair of ever returning home as he descends into the low-point of his captivity.

  I am going with one of our Subalterns and about 40 men, besides men of other units to a jungle camp about 12 kilos down the river (he meant up the river) to begin work on another Section. There is no road there, and we shall be supplied by river, getting there by jungle path. Maybe it will be better than here. About 3 men are dying …

  158 km Camp June’43

  My Dearest,

  The journey here wasn’t bad, not being on (rail) tracks. We wended in single file through thick bamboo jungle. Plenty of monkeys. The camp, being a temporary one, is tented and being new, still clean. We are terribly crowded and I am sleeping 18 to a tent with the officers.

  Again, here, the work is terribly hard and the Nips are swines, although one gunza – Sgt.Angells – who I knew in Tamarkan, isn’t bad. The main job is filling in a tremendous gap with rock to form a platform for the rails. One can’t imagin
e it ever being filled in – not by human labour, anyway.

  Food is even worse. Breakfast: Rice and water

  Dinner: Rice, dried fish and water

  Evening: Rice, dried veg.

  It is difficult to get to the river here. I am glad I am with the officers here. Our morale is high, even if our bodies show signs of going home. It is difficult to think of a future under these conditions. My boots are almost finished.

  Letter 90 158 km Camp June’43

  I am not writing so much, as conditions are so miserable that they will undoubtedly reflect in these letters and that’s not much good.

  Apart from the malnutrition, our chief trouble is the cold and rain. We are in the tropics but the nights are very cold at this height. We are continually working in the rain and so all are suffering from the squitters. I have had acute diarrhoea now ever since early May. A kind of colic, I suppose. We have no remedy. Our only MO has been sent back to Kinsaiyok by the Japanese because he certified too many men as being sick! Now, everyone hobbles out and only those unconscious or dying can stop in. The Camp is in a terrible mess as everyone has the squitters and usually cant get to the latrines at night in the rain. The tents leak like sieves. I believe some of us may move soon.

  Charles was right about a change of location, for on 23 June he was marched just four kilometres downstream to a fresh camp.

  154 km Camp June’43

  We have just marched the 4km here and have cleared jungle in order to put up the tents. The Koreans kept us at work until it was dark, so you can guess the mess in the darkness in putting up tents. I feel decidedly unwell, but have been working cutting big bamboos in the jungle.

  Charles’s healthy pre-war life style had served him well during his captivity and he had withstood the heavy labour and starvation diet better than most, but even the most robust of men had their limit of endurance. Charles had reached his.