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The World War 2 Japanese Prison Diaries of
Alexander John James
Appendix - Detail
Fukai Maru
The culmination of four weeks of suspense, of endless rumour and gossip, of constant packing and repacking, and of two medical examinations, took place on Sunday 16th August 1942, when, after exactly six months internment at Changi, a party of fourteen hundred officers and men started on its way to Japanese territory.
For a month the ‘Japan Party’ had been the topic of every conversation. The ultimate destination, the date of departure and reasons for its delay, the conditions of travel, the chances of escape, and who would get home first, were among the many subjects discussed daily in every mess.
The start of it all had been an order issued by the Japanese for two parties of two thousand and one thousand to stand by to go to Japan. All officers above the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, all Royal Engineer’s, and all other technically qualified officers were to be included. When the time came, the personnel who came under these three categories became the ‘Special Party’, four hundred strong. They, together with the party of one thousand, were the first batch to be moved. For various reasons I had volunteered to be one of the thousand.
Thus it came about that on a hot Sunday morning, we were sitting on piles of kit in Keppel Harbour, beside two burnt out warehouses, awaiting with mixed feelings our turn for the ordeal of ‘decontamination’. This, however, proved to be a blessing in disguise. We stacked our baggage on the quayside, went aboard a specially adapted ship, and stripped, putting all our clothes into bags, which were labeled and dropped into a chute leading to some remote spot in the bowels of the vessel. We ourselves, clad in towels, were taken to a large bathhouse, where we spent five glorious minutes in a hot bath (my second in six months) containing disinfectant, followed by a cold shower. Eventually we recovered our clothes which had been steam sterilized, and about forty five minutes after coming aboard we stepped ashore, comparatively cool and clean. Our kit had been sprayed with some concoction, and like ourselves, was theoretically bug-free. However later that evening I noticed quite a family of bed bugs ambulating over somebody’s valise apparently none the worse for their recent experience!
By this time a gradual movement of the cleansed was taking place, in the direction of a small cargo vessel berthed a little further down the quay. Our worst fears were confirmed when we saw the first of our party filing on board. We had not expected a luxury liner, but this -------!
We gazed with dismay on what was to be our home for five weeks.
The “Fukai Maru” was a tramp of some 3,800 tons, dirty and streaked with rust. Her decks were adorned with various ramshackle deckhouses, and on and around the two after hatches lay piles of sacks and wooden tubs. Her armament – all Japanese transports seemed to carry some means of defense – consisted of a gun of about four inch caliber, mounted on the fo’c’sle, and three dummy depth charges, made of wood, on the poop.
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The line of embarking prisoners was gradually swallowed up first by the two forward hatches, then by number four hatch, and by the time our turn came number three was being filled. We scrambled aboard over piles of baggage, and made our way inch by inch, in single file, aft, until we eventually found ourselves in number three ‘tween deck in the central hatch space. Here we stood surrounded by hordes of B.O.R’s (British Other Rank), heaps of kit, thousands of flies, and a few Japanese who were vainly trying to make themselves understood by signs and gesticulations, but of whom no notice whatsoever was being taken by anyone.
Each ‘tween deck space in the ship was adapted for troop-carrying, being divided horizontally by a wooden platform supported by a stout framework. This formed two storeys’ each with about 3’ 6” to 4’ of headroom, extending all the way around the hatchway. Each storey was designed to house two rows of men lying feet to feet athwart ships, one row of heads against the ship’s side, the other overlooking the central space. Unfortunately the average height of a Japanese is about 5’5”, consequently it was impossible for us to lie down without overlapping one another.
The group of officers to which I was attached had ill-advisedly decided to wait until the end of the main party (of one thousand) before embarking, on the assumption that the first on board would be deepest down in the ship. In vain did I point out that it was obvious from the Plums roll marks that the lower holds were already full of cargo of some sort. The result was that by the time we arrived, all space in the two storeys’ was taken, and some thirty or forty of us were left with the central space under the hatchway. On deck every nook and cranny was occupied by the ‘Special Party’ of four hundred who had followed us on board. There was not nearly enough room for everybody to sit down, let alone lie down.
At sunset we all fell in on the quay for a roll call. This took some time as none of the Japanese seemed to know exactly how many of us there ought to have been, eventually however they were satisfied, and we clambered on board again. By this time we were all very hungry, many of us having eaten nothing since leaving Changi at half past six that morning. A cheer was therefore raised, when at eleven o’clock the Japanese began preparations for a meal. This was produced at one o’clock, and consisted of a plate of boiled rice and a little stew, and was eagerly consumed by one and all, after which, people made an attempt to get some sleep.
During the last fortnight at Changi I had made myself a hammock, and this seemed an admirable opportunity to use it. I slung it from two of the hatch beams high above the turmoil in the ‘tween deck, much to the consternation of those immediately below, who placed little trust in the single strand of tent rope at each end supporting twelve stone of fellow prisoner. However, to their great relief I succeeded in getting into it without capsizing, and in spite of a few showers (the hatch boards were off), was probably more comfortable than anybody else on board.
In the morning, after a wash and shave at the galley pump – not yet put out of bounds – we endeavoured to straighten out the chaos in our hold. At about midday a meal was prepared, for which we queued up hold by hold. Everybody from the G.O.C. (General Officer
Commanding) Malaya and the Governor down to the most junior private, fell in on the quay, and armed with a plate or mess tin shuffled slowly towards the gallery, climbing over hatch covers, piles of wire rope and wooden tubs. As each passed the galley a scoopful of rice was slapped on his plate by a sweating Japanese, a little watery stew poured on top of the rice, and from the depths of a third tub a dirty looking individual produced, after much grubbing about, a small fragment of cold salt fish. The queue then led to the port side bulwarks, whence a frantic leap for the quay was made, a feat which endangered the leaper’s meal more and more as the tide rose!.
During the morning the Japanese officer in charge had evidently been persuaded that it was quite impossible for fourteen hundred of us to travel on the Fukai Maru, and early in the afternoon the ‘Special Party’ went ashore to await the arrival of another vessel. This eased the situation considerably, and a certain amount of reshuffling took place. Our group of officers was moved into number two ‘tween deck, where we secured a billet for ourselves on the upper storey on the starboard side, a bit cramped, but not at all bad by local standards!
While we were in the throes of this move, the Fukai Maru steamed out of Keppel Harbour, and anchored in the roads, some two miles off-shore. Several parties of our troops who were working on the docks stopped work as we passed and shouted “where are you going?”. “Tokyo” was our reply, although not even the captain knew our destination. We waved farewell in reply to their shouts of “good luck”, “See you in London”, “Come back when you’ve finished with these yellow b------s”.
The second and last meal of the day was produced at six o’clock; by which time we had been split into messes of fifteen, a representative from each mess being responsible for drawing the food in buckets from the galley, the final distribution taking place in our ‘living’ quarters. After supper, as if to show that the appalling conditions did not affect our spirits, we had an excellent impromptu sing-song, much enjoyed by ourselves, the crew, and the guard.
The latter served but a nominal purpose, and consisted of an officer, only seen half a dozen times during the voyage; two or three corporals, one of whom had the distinction of being the worst sailor on board, and fifteen or twenty privates. The guard room consisted of a wooden bench on the mid-ships deck just outside the engineer’s quarters, overlooking the after part of the ship. One sentry stood on the fo’c’sle-head, and another on the poop, where they were ignored by all. Apart from occasionally chasing prisoners off the mid-ships deck, which was out of bounds, they served no useful purpose. Their quarters were directly below the saloon, and opened on to the forward deck, and it was not long before the troops discovered that the guard seldom ate all that was provided for them at meal times. Consequently a small crowd would hover in the vicinity with mess tins at the ready at the appropriate times; a practice which was frowned upon by the officers, but which, owing to the extreme meagerness of our rations, could hardly be forbidden.
We lay at anchor all the following day, and spent the time acclimatizing ourselves to our new surroundings. Allotted to each hold was a water tank, holding about four hundred gallons, situated on deck approximately opposite the entrance to each hold. At first we were at a loss to explain the ‘widow’s curse’ property of these tanks, but later the following notice chalked on each made the situation clear: - “You may use water till empty; we fill every day the tank”. Fresh water was pumped from the main ballast tanks into the circulation pipes running around the ship, and thence by means of a very dirty rubber hosepipe which was dragged all over the filthy decks, the tanks were filled. It was little wonder that dysentery, which broke out early in the voyage, spread rapidly.
Alongside each water tank were the latrines for each hold. Each of these resembled a very small garden tool shed divided into three compartments. A trough some eight inches wide and six inches deep, ran centrally down the length of each building, and discharged its contents overboard via a wooden chute affair. The sole equipment of each compartment was a wooden bar attached horizontally to the forward wall about thirty inches from the floor. The use of these latrines in rough weather was something of a gymnastic feat, performed with one hand clutching the rail, and the other endeavoring to prevent the door flying open with the roll of the ship, with a portion of New York Herald 1938 vintage held between one’s teeth, and the ever present fear that a green sea taken over the bows would probably wash the whole outfit over the side, occupants and all! We had difficulty in obtaining permission to flush the latrines with
a hose twice a day, they should of course have been done at least every ¼ hour, or preferably more often; as perhaps owing to the nature of our diet, there was always a queue of people waiting their turn. The aroma which, particularly when we had a following wind, pervaded the whole ship, was such that we would willingly have changed places with the respective occupants of any piggery or cow byre.
All preparation of meals took place on the after deck. In addition to the piles of rice sacks on both hatches, and wooden tubs containing various foodstuffs stacked in every corner, there were two or three wooden sheds containing vegetables and cooking utensils, also a bigger shelter under which were three large steam cookers. Alongside this shelter were two tubs in which tea was stewed all day long by direct injection of steam. The resultant liquid tasted more of ‘engine room’ than anything else, as the steam had undoubtedly passed through the boiler – cylinder – condenser cycle innumerable times before being injected into these tubs.
The two daily meals, served at 9 am and 5 pm, were always the same, a plateful of boiled rice over which was poured as much thin stew as would fill a coffee cup. The rice was a far better quality than that which we had been getting at Changi. Every other day saw a sugar issue, either in the form of sweetened tea, or two dessert spoons full of granulated sugar, or a small bag of sweets. Fortunately the previous six months had accustomed us to perpetual hunger; otherwise the extreme scantiness of this diet would have been a more serious matter.
During the afternoon of the 18th a transport came out of Keppel Harbour with the other party on board, and anchored in the roads. There appeared to be quite a number of Japanese troops on board as well as our people, and doubtless their conditions are just as bad as ours; rather hard on the Brigadiers and Generals, who quite reasonably expected some sort of cabin accommodations.
At eight o’clock on the morning of August 19th 1942 we weighted anchor, and steamed off in a north-westerly direction. It was calm all that day, and although it became slightly rough on the two following days, there were no cases of sea-sickness. We were agreeably surprised by the lack of vibration, for although the Fukai Maru was twenty three years old, her quadruple expansion engine ran as smoothly as a turbine.
We sighted the coast of French Indo-China on Saturday August 22, and at midday dropped anchor a mile offshore at Cap St. Jacques, close to the mouth of the Mekong River, on which, a short distance inland, lies Saigon. Scrub-covered hills flanked a sandy bay, along which straggled a village that appeared deserted during the day, but became a line of twinkling lights at night. The rigid black-out orders being relaxed somewhat that night, we were allowed to remain on deck after sunset, and sat looking at the moonlit shore, framed by a cool breeze, welcome after the torrid heat of the day.
The next day was stifling and breathless below decks, and burning hot on deck. The grass slippers which had been issued for the voyage proved a quite insufficient protection against the heat of the deck plates. We were all relieved when, early in the afternoon, we weighed anchor and left with ten other ships. The whereabouts of our next port of call was the subject of much conjecture and argument, but the popular idea that it would be somewhere in Formosa was borne out by the rumour that we would arrive on the following Saturday or Sunday the 29th or 30th. The times that we were allowed on deck gradually became more elastic. At first we had been restricted to an hour on deck at sunrise, an hour at mid-day, and half an hour just before sunset, but by the time we reached the next port the hours had more than doubled.
After leaving Cap St. Jacques, the weather deteriorated considerably. We had a following wind and sea, and a great deal of rain, making it necessary to have the hatches covered most of the time. This made life rather miserable. The atmosphere below decks became appalling; there were two motor driven suction ventilators, but these were frequently out of order, or switched off by the Japs just when they were needed most. They also had a happy knack of switching off what few lights there were, usually just as a meal arrived, leaving us in utter darkness. In addition to the foul air, we were subjected to a continual dripping from the underside of the deck plates, owing to the condensation of the hot air. The lot of the unfortunates who lived in the central space was even worse. Being directly beneath the hatch, they normally had the sky for a ceiling; whenever it started raining, several minutes would elapse before the hatch-boards and tarpaulins were in place, during which time their bedding and clothing would be gradually soaked. Nor were their troubles then over, for it was the custom to leave the hatch-boards off all along each side of the hatch in order to assist ventilation, and to drape the tarpaulin over the edge of the coaming. Consequently pools of rainwater collected in the depressions all around the edge. These slowly increased in volume until at last the tarpaulin slipped, allowing several gallons of water to descend abruptly into the hold, adding to the troubles of those in the neighbourhood of the deluge.
In such weather another hazard was introduced by the fact that the very steep companionways became as slippery as ice. Even in dry weather, if the ship was rolling at all, it was not unusual to land painfully in a heap at the foot of the steps, but in wet weather it became almost the normal method of entry to the holds, and it is remarkable that there were no serious accidents. Mess orderlies carrying buckets of rice or stew would take every possible precaution to prevent disaster overtaking their precious burdens, but even so a mess would sometimes lose the greater part of a meal. The men took all this with their characteristic cheerfulness. It was, as I found by bitter experience, a very painful affair to descend a dozen steps on one’s posterior, scattering in all directions whatever one had been carrying, yet nine out of ten who performed this inelegant feat, arose from a complicated posture with not a stream of foul language, but a joke and a smile.
Under these circumstances we were faced with two alternatives; either to endure the suffocating atmosphere and the drips and leaks below, or to remain on deck, clad only in a pair of shorts, chilled to the marrow by wind and rain, but at least breathing fresh air. Personally I adopted the latter course, but the majority remained below. Fortunately the good weather experienced during the early part of the voyage had enabled people to get their ‘sea legs’, and there was practically no sea-sickness in spite of the heavy weather. At first we had been restricted to an hour on deck at sunrise, an hour at midday, and half an hour just before sunset, but these hours gradually stretched until finally they were ignored altogether.
Sometimes, during the night, a commotion would be caused by the numerous rats, which regarding our living space as their lawful playground, would scamper over us as we lay asleep, pausing here and there to bite a tasty looking morsel of ear or finger. However, by the end of the voyage we became quite inured to their activities.
Owing to the prevalence of various skin diseases, contracted at Singapore, cleanliness became a matter of extreme importance, and whenever opportunity presented itself, clothes were washed in every possible corner of the ship, and the derricks and mast stays were usually a-flap with drying garments. Fortunately the fresh water issue was very generous, far more so than on British troopships, presumably the Fukai Maru carried fresh water ballast. Every evening, when the decks were hosed down, we took the chance to have a salt water shower. This performance was a regular source of amusement to the crew, whose oriental ideas about modesty must have been somewhat shaken by the sight of several hundred naked prisoners scrubbing themselves vigorously, while one directed a powerful jet of salt water over the rest.
Land was sighted on the morning of August 29th, and at half past eleven we dropped anchor outside the entrance to the port of Taikao on the west coast of Formosa. During the afternoon we steamed into the harbour, through a narrow passage that appeared to have been blasted from the cliff that had separated a natural lagoon from the sea. We moored fore and aft to two buoys about six hundred yards from the quay. The town lay to the north, and was flanked on the west by a high hill, around the base of which ran a coast road. To the east lay the main range of mountains some eleven or twelve thousand feet high, running north and south the length of the island. These were usually shrouded in cloud or heat haze, but often at dawn they presented a magnificent spectacle as the sun rose behind them, and it was hard to believe they were as much as forty miles away.
We were soon surrounded by a fleet of lighters, into which our cargo of bauxite was discharged from the lower holds for conveyance to a large aluminum plant which lay at the eastern end of the harbour. All labour on the ship was provided by our troops, and for those not engaged in this task, other employment was devised. Every morning we were taken by pontoons towed by tugs to one of three destinations, which in order of unpopularity were: - a coal dump, an oil depot, and a large ordnance storage yard. The men were given various laboring jobs, which they performed in a lethargic fashion under the supervision of armed guards. The officers, the majority of whom went every day to the ordnance depot, spent their time in washing clothes, for which facilities were available, and in reading, sleeping, and amusing themselves as best they could. To everybody’s joy the Japanese decided in view of the fact that the men were working, to issue a third meal daily at noon. True it only consisted of rice, but even so it was welcome. Moreover as a result of the increasing number of cases of beriberi, the purser was persuaded to purchase fresh pork and onions, both of which appeared in minute quantities in the stews. Unfortunately the Japanese quartermaster displayed his ignorance of human nature by stacking the crates of onions on deck close to number four hold, wherein lived amongst others, a hundred Australians; needless to say many persons took an unprecedented interest in that quarter of the ship, and the onions soon vanished from the menu.
Each morning there appeared a number of bum boats selling bananas; one yen, lowered in a bucket on a string, secured about fifty. As most of us were about ‘broke’ when we left Singapore, money was scarce, and to remedy this, the troops began selling watches, fountain pens, and clothes to the crew and the coolies who worked on the lighters. It was obviously criminally foolish to sell winter clothing at ridiculous prices, when it was known that every garment we possessed would be needed, and the officers did their best to point this out, but to the troops three yen’s worth of bananas on the spot meant more than a shirt which might be missed later on. It is worth mentioning that all our clothing was of a far higher quality than any obtainable either locally or in Japan. One man, more brainless than the rest, even sold his only pair of boots. The purser began running a sideline in bread and biscuits, which he purchased ashore and resold every evening to whoever could afford to pay his prices.
In spite of these small additions to our diet, there were fresh cases of dysentery and beriberi every day. Although not much could be done for the individuals concerned, our medical staff spared no effort on their behalf. To add to their troubles, two suspected cases of diphtheria were confirmed; both were taken ashore, and admitted to the local civil hospital. To prevent any possibility of the infection spreading to the local inhabitants, the shore working parties were stopped and we were all confined to the ship. Even the banana hawkers were forbidden to approach and ply their trade, we were completely ostracized.
By this time the discharging of the bauxite had been completed, and we were loading up with a cargo of rice for Japan. As before, all work on board was done by our troops, and supervised by one of the ship’s officers. While acting as liaison in number two hold one day, one of our officers was informed by the second mate that we were bound for Fusan in Korea. At once maps were produced and discussions began. We had repeatedly endeavoured to elicit this information from various members of the crew, but they had always pleaded ignorance of our destination. On this occasion however, the news was volunteered, without any prompting enquiries, it therefore carried more weight than the average ships rumour. These usually arose from a one-sided conversation between one of our men and a member of the crew or guard, the latter would nod assent to some quite incomprehensible suggestion of the former, who would report the matter as “The third engineer said ….”.
The crew were, with one or two exceptions, quite a good crowd, and they did their best to make our life as tolerable as possible. Those of them who knew a few words of English were always ready to air their knowledge and to increase their vocabulary, and the wireless operator would occasionally pass on items of news from the outside world. The purser, who was nominally in charge of us, and supervised all feeding arrangements etc., was a swine, blessed with a fondness for the bottle and a nasty temper.
The completion of the loading, and our subsequent departure was delayed by a typhoon which passed close by. For three days it rained hard, and the wind fairly shrieked through the rigging, while we had the usual option of asphyxiation in the ‘tween deck, or subjection to the wild elements on deck. Finally the weather cleared, and on Sept 14th, after a hard mornings work, the last lighter of rice was emptied. During the afternoon the hatch beams were dropped in place, derrick snugged down, and all made ready for an early start on the morrow.
There was a distinct atmosphere of jubilation and relief as we steamed out of Taikao at eight o’clock the next morning. No sooner were we clear of the breakwaters than the crew set about removing the accumulation of filth from the decks, ashes from the stokehold, and garbage from the galley. After an hour’s work, the whole ship, even the latrines which were given an extra special purgation, smelt quite different.
During the afternoon of the same day we joined a convoy which was waiting off Taiman, and were escorted on our way northwards by a destroyer, this being the most likely section of the voyage for an encounter with an American submarine. While we wished the latter craft the best of hunting in these waters, we had no illusions about our fate if the Fukai Maru were hit by a ‘friendly’ torpedo. The life-saving apparatus for the crew was much the same as is laid down by the Board of Trade for our own ships, but the rest of us would have to depend on about thirty very flimsy rafts and whatever else might float; actually those on deck would stand a fair chance, but for anybody caught below, as the majority would be, the case would be hopeless. (We heard later that a Japanese ship carrying eighteen hundred Allied prisoners was torpedoed and sunk hereabouts on Oct. 1st, and that there were between two and three hundred survivors.)
News of a typhoon ahead (at least that is what the Japs called it) caused us to turn about during the night, and anchor for twelve hours off the Pescadores Islands. Another ship joined us before we restarted that evening, bringing the number of the convoy up to eleven. The northern most tip of Formosa was lost to view soon after dawn on the following day, and we headed for Korea through some very heavy weather. It became very rough indeed, with a strong wind driving from the North West. The Fukai Maru proved to be fairly seaworthy, thanks to the four thousand tons of rice in the lower holds, but plenty of water came aboard. Everything on deck had to be securely lashed, and the hatches were battened down. Most of us lay below listening to the swish of waves washing the deck overhead, and the clatter of running feet as people took their chance to make a dash for the mid-ships deck. The mess orderlies task became distinctly hazardous, and they soon learned that the expression ‘to hang on with one’s eyebrows’ was not so far-fetched after all!
After four days of this, we were thankful at dawn on September 22nd, to see land some four or five miles distant on the port beam. It was bitterly cold in the wind, and the sea was still very rough, but the voyage was almost over, and it was a cheerful throng that stood on deck gazing at the rugged coast of Korea. We drew steadily closer to the land, and finally entered a wide bay and dropped anchor outside the breakwater of Fusan harbour.
It was a great relief to be in calm water once more, and in spite of slight rain, the hatches were opened, releasing a five day old accumulation of bad air and assorted smells. Various Japanese medical personnel came on board, and held a brief inspection on deck. As a result of this, coupled with the large number of dysentery cases, it was announced that we would shortly proceed to Japan for a further medical examination. However, this trip was cancelled, as Fusan proved capable of providing the necessary staff and equipment. Accordingly at half past eleven that night we were subjected to the by now familiar test for dysentery. (An ordeal carried out with glass rods!) On the next day the eighteen worst cases of dysentery and suspected diphtheria went ashore to a local hospital. (Where seven of them subsequently died.) Fresh rumours concerning our immediate future circulated hourly, while we spent most of our time on deck enjoying a change of weather which brought pleasantly warm sunshine.
We breakfasted early on the 24th, and a second bucket of rice was issued to each mess for ‘haversack rations’; then began preparation for disembarkation , in the midst of which we steamed into the harbor, and went alongside a quay. We were flattered to see a tremendous array of military police, all with fixed bayonets, who were posted with a prodigal liberality almost as far as the eye could see! Among the motley procession which clambered up the gangway was a cinematographer. He was conducted to the bridge, whence he made use of the excellent view of the assembled troops and heaps of baggage on the forward deck; he then came down and took shots of a kilted member of the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders, and of the senior British officer.
At length, the evacuated holds having been swept and garnished, and the piles of junk which troops invariably leave in their wake, disposed of, we disembarked. We were lined up in batches of one hundred, officers and men together, and subjected to an examination of all our possessions. Playing cards, suspicious literature, gold and silver watches and rings were among the articles that were confiscated, but as soon as we knew what they were after, all valuables were successfully hidden. Our heavy kit was still in the hands of the baggage parties on the ship, and we shuddered to think of the results of a thorough examination in our absence. Fortunately our fears proved groundless, as there was no search until we reached our destination.
Early in the afternoon, led by a mounted officer, and escorted by a small army of sentries bustling with ferocity, we started on what had been previously described as ‘a three kilometer walk to the station’.
It was at once obvious that the local populace knew of our arrival, and that we were the first batch of prisoners to arrive in Korea. The streets were thickly lined with spectators, and traffic was at a standstill as we marched along chatting and laughing, glad to be able to stretch our legs after a long spell without exercise. The rather drab streets were relieved by the very gaily coloured clothing of the younger women, and the pale blue uniforms of the police, who, some on horseback, others on ancient Harley Davidson motorcycles, kept the roads clear and shooed back the curious onlookers when they approached us too closely. The women had very fair, almost white, complexions; both sexes had the characteristic Mongol features, with large brown eyes, and black hair. Here and there amongst the crowd we saw a more European face, and ascribed these to the small percentage of Russians who live in Fusan. The most noticeable features of the crowd was the curious but almost expressionless gaze with which they watched us pass, no person over the age of about six betrayed any kind of emotion, a striking contrast to ourselves who gave every outward appearance of being as happy as a Sunday-school outing. We were later to realize that these Koreans had been virtual slaves under the Japanese rule since 1910, and they had almost forgotten the meaning of the words peace and happiness.
After marching for about a mile and a half, we came to a building which looked suspiciously like a railway station, however the head of the column turned away from it, and shortly afterwards we found ourselves halted for a rest in the playground of a large school. This break was very welcome, as the sun was hot in the narrow dusty streets, and our packs were growing heavy. On resuming our march, it gradually dawned on us that we were not marching to the station direct, but were doing a tour around the town for the benefit of the local inhabitants. The news-reel man turned up again in a car from which he filmed us as we marched along. At last we came back to the building that had aroused our suspicions, and sure enough it was the longed for railway station. One man had collapsed during the two hour march, and we were all very glad to take off our heavy packs and sit on them in the station yard. Our shirts were as wet as our throats were dry. After a short wait we entrained, to our surprise not in freight wagons as we had expected, but in fairly comfortable carriages.
We moved off about an hour before sunset, and caught a glimpse as we passed the docks, of the Fukai Maru steaming out of the harbor bound for Japan. All the way along the track, as the train climbed slowly, winding in and out of the hills, were groups of peasants, mostly children, who turned out in force to watch us pass. We were unable to return their waves, being forbidden to put either heads or hands out of the windows. This restriction was enforced by sentries standing on the carriage steps watching the outside of the train; in addition to these there were guards at both ends of each carriage. After living at Changi, where we seldom saw a Jap, we felt positively hemmed in with bayonets. It was evidently anticipated that we would be an ill-disciplined crowd of ruffians, taking every opportunity to attempt to escape. Fortunately this impression wore off within a few days.
After our evening meal – the best since leaving Singapore – the photographer, who was still dogging our steps, took a flashlight photograph of the interior of our carriage, probably for propaganda purposes. We all hoped that the result might find its way to the neutral press, and thence to the notice of relatives at home who had we feared, heard nothing of us since before the capitulation of Singapore.
We spent an uncomfortable and almost sleepless night, but managed to get a wash and shave on the train at dawn. During the morning we traversed hilly country in which terraced paddy fields abounded, but which seemed rather thinly populated. At one o’clock we arrived at Keijo, the capital, where the train was split in two, the senior officers, the A.I.F. (Australian Imperial Force) and the 2nd Battalion of the Loyals remaining at Keijo, while the remainder, five hundred and thirty five strong, proceeded to Jinsen, some twenty five miles west of the capital, on the coast.
Shortly after two o’clock on September 25th we detrained at Jinsen, and after forming up outside the station, set off on the very last lap of our journey. As at Fusan, the town had turned out to witness the spectacle, and here again their silent gaze contrasted oddly with the boisterous spirits of our troops.
After marching through a mile and a half of squalid streets, flanked by empty shops and ramshackle dwellings, we saw ahead a cluster of wooden huts surrounded by a high wooden palisade along the top of which ran barbed wire and several strands of electrified wire. We all realized that we had reached our journey’s end, and as the gates opened to receive us, I think each man sent up a silent prayer that the time would come soon when we should march out of those gates again without an armed escort – free men.
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