Sergeant Alf Waterhouse

French Indo China

After breakfast, on the morning of the 2nd February 1945, we were told we would be loading a ship to Japan. Before we left I saw the Chinese girl brushing her teeth as usual.

On the dock we made a queue, and to my astonishment I saw it was the clapped out old ship, the Haruyasa Maru.

Just before I went aboard I saw a Chinese coolie sitting on the dock side, legs dangling while fishing. I spoke to him as a joke,

“Say mate where’s this ship going ?”

To my total surprise without moving his head he replied,

 “To the bottom of the sea”

How I wished I had never spoken. Was he a spy?

Now on board I descended very slowly, and not very happy, down a steel vertical ladder into the hold perhaps twenty feet below.  It is a circus act, a foul smelling stench nearly made me vomit. In the semi darkness, broken only by the slanting sunlight from the open top, I could see bodies, some managing to lie, others with their knees under the chins. The ship’s sides were running with condensation. Finding a bed space against the wall, within seconds my back was wet through.

Sitting up without much success on the rails, I started to take stock as it would take perhaps two weeks to get to Japan:-

Could anyone live down here for that amount of time?

Were there Latrines?

Would sleep be possible?

More were descending, if it filled up any more, two weeks down here would be impossible.

As I looked up through the square opening with the brilliant sunlight shining through. Suddenly, a thought struck me, in the event of an air raid, panic would occur, men would stampede to the only exit, the thin vertical ladder. It would be impossible to avoid being crushed or hurt with the men shouting and pushing, if not worse. It did not need an air raid, there was the ever possibility of a torpedo hitting. Drowning in the open ocean or down here, it was heads I win, tails you lose.

I must get out and risk whatever the Nips may do on deck. As I watched, there was no one descending, make your move now, get going. I’ll never know how I climbed that upright ladder so quick. The deck was crawling with men, leaving no space for the deck to be seen. Five steam rollers were being transported on either side of the deck, with men finding space on them where they could. With luck, none had thought to get inside the huge circular cylindrical wheels, so I crept inside one. It certainly was awkward to get in any comfortable position, but at least, even though hot, I was breathing fresh air.

The silence was indeed deafening, nothing seemed to be happening. Glancing around I saw a wooden open sided frame, fastened by ropes, hanging over the side, and as a floor it had two planks of wood. I watched in amazement as a man, taking his life in his hands, climbed the flimsy frame and did his business over the side facing the sea. When the ship was moving, the view from the wooden frame must be provide a terrifying seen with the waves below, as the ship cut through the water. It seemed even more frightening climbing back. A steeplejack may find it child’s play, but we were not steeplejacks.

I saw many of the men throwing buckets into the sea fastened by strong string, wherever they got that from I don’t know. They were hoping to retrieve some water to douse themselves down. After many many tries, I did not see one man being successful in his attempt.

The Japanese now brought to us buckets of fresh water. Fortunately a Sergeant nearby took control to see each man got a fair share. No food was provided or brought forward. The day ending and the ship still had not sailed. I kept looking at the sky dreading the sight of an aircraft preparing to bomb us. At dusk the ship’s horn sounded and with shouts we were away. Looking back as Singapore faded from view, my mind went back to when we arriving some years ago. My thoughts then were ‘I would sail from Singapore with happy memories’, I could not be more wrong.

Now being dark, I kept hearing a frightening scratching noise, what was it? I later realised it was the steering iron, scratching from the wheelhouse to the anchor. These chains were on both sides of the ship in the scuppers. In the silence any noise had our nerves on stretch.

On the third day, it was feeling more like a month, as we had nothing to occupy us but look at the sea, there was no other shipping in sight. The ship’s horn blasted out with three blasts, breaking the silence. I am sure like me, we all thought this was an air raid warning. From the stern of the ship, a lifeboat was stored on an upper deck, how many more we couldn’t see. On looking towards the hidden front of the ship, we saw Japanese soldiers boarding  lifeboats, rifles standing between their knees. Now we were sure it was either an attack from aircraft or a submarine.

How I wished at that moment we had a strong leader. He could rally the men to rush these Japanese soldiers and throw them over the side. Many of us would be shot but we would drown anyway. About the deck were large square rubber cubes which we assumed would be our life jackers, even if a bit large. We all knew these would be useless, yes they would float and carry your weight, but they would quickly get sticky wet and slippery, leaving no way to get a safe grip. We needed orders but our officers were never seen on board the ship, were they stopped from seeing us?

There was a buzzing sound from the men and all were looking at the seated Japanese soldiers. There was a feeling of rebellion on board and the Japanese soldiers must have felt it as they watched us, looking scared. I knew we could overpower them if we rushed the blighters, I just knew it.  Somehow it took away all the fright, we would win this round, payback time.

There was great relief when the ship’s horn sounded one blast and the Japanese soldiers left the lifeboats. I believe we had helped each other through this ordeal. As night fell again black, with only the sound of the sea swishing alongside, a rather small sergeant of ours crept into my nest asking,

“Would you mind, I need company as it has been really scary”.

All alone, I had the same feeling, by yourself  nerves were on end. I put my arm round him and we snuggled together. In some way I felt more secure and hoped I would sleep well. It wasn’t long before my arm ached under him and it was very uncomfortable. Damn but I dare not move as he had gone to sleep. Thinking the company would allow to me to sleep well, it was the opposite. Dawn came up in fiery red, I hoped this wasn’t an omen.

We now learned a Japanese cook had prepared our meagre food and hot water tea, and he let us know by banging a gong. I was glad that from the start, the Sergeant Major had taken it upon himself to be become the maitre d’hotel, head waiter, and detailing men to collect and serve.

Was it the thought of becoming a circus act or pure funk but I didn’t want to attempt the latrine and it was the fifth day. In the afternoon, there were shouts from many of ‘Land ahead’,  many rushed to the side and the damned ship nearly keeled over. So retreated back to our places, like myself many must think it to be an island, as by the time we had been sailing, we could be nowhere near Japan. As we neared the land and more came into view, it was a very big island.

The ships anchor was dropped in a lovely blue lagoon. Spoiled by four sunken ships all showing above decks damage. On the headland was a tall mast displaying the French Flag. How come, this is French territory, it would have been taken by Japanese.

I was sitting on a raised platform and looking at the nearest sunken ship. After perhaps one hour an air raid siren was heard from some distance inland. Referring to a PoW, I did not know who sat next to me, I told him that as we were the only ship near here, the plane was bound to bomb us, so I would try and get to that sunken ship nearby.

He looked at me grinning,  “Can you swim”

“Back home I could manage to swim the length of the pool but would then be out of puff, but in a life and death situation, I think I could make it to that boat”“

The reply came within a snigger,,

“No chance lad its perhaps a mile away, yer looking at sea level its always further than it seems”.

Again in the distance we heard the ‘All Clear’ with sighs of relief all round.  The ships engine started and we were moving to the far end of the shoreline. We found it was the mouth of a large river and we were now sailing down this river. After some miles, we passed a sunken ship, river centre with two funnels. As we sailed we later saw two more sunken vessels, this was not a good sign. Coming into view ahead were the twin steeples of a large church, still closer a dock came into view.

 We docked alongside a destroyer, there seemed to be no one about, yet in the middle of the river was another large sunken ship. We were told, but did not know if it was true, four thousand Japanese soldiers were drowned in that ship. We were marched off thank goodness, as on the quay there was a huge part of steel, at least twelve feet square and shaped, obviously a part of some ship. What explosion could have caused that much damage.

Marched off around a tall brick building, which had large double doors at either end. Down the centre of the tall building were narrow gauge railway lines, we were to get to know this building well. In front was a wide area of green grass, then a wall, and there were then houses obviously across the road. In the grass were about twenty circular holes with embedded steel dust bins. Clever fox holes we thought. Soon to be disillusioned with the thought that we could use them. As we rounded to the front of the building, there was a usual Japanese guard room. Sitting on their forms and looking ready for a massacre, we shuddered as not to be taken inside. It was now understood that this building was to be our sleeping and living area. It left us wondering why had that destroyer been tied up right outside our new quarters? The floor was ancient cobble stones, of all shapes and sizes. After finding my accommodation and laying down, how could I get my bones to fit into these crevices?

After tossing and turning I managed to get to sleep. Waking the following morning it seemed somewhat of a torment in getting my limbs loose without aching. Somehow I found a sort of space between two stones that my hip fitted in thank goodness, it seems that you can get used to anything in time.

Some days later we marched if you can call it that. Our state of undress hardly made us appear anything like soldiers, bowed shoulders, shuffling, eyes down it was an unholy mess.

There is no doubt we felt embarrassed and uncomfortable, with quick glances we caught sight of what appeared well dressed French men and women, teenagers were riding their cycles around us. We did notice that none of the French looked at us, it seemed unlikely that it was forbidden, but it could have been that in our present condition, we were not worth looking at. We arrived at Saigon airport and saw several badly damaged aircraft. Our job was clearing away the damaged craft. This lasted for about three days when again we were on the move.

We found ourselves at large railway station and we boarded the usual open trucks or wagons, for a change there was plenty of room. Whilst we waited for the train to move another line of trucks passed us. The passing train was full of bare chested white men. I thought, maybe they were French POWs, but the looks they gave us, was contempt, we never found out who they were.

Soon after this we got out of the trucks and walked some distance and then boarded another line of wagons. We set off and very shortly were passing along a sandy beach, with no one about in the sand hills nearest us. I am sure others were thinking on the same lines as me, thank goodness we were now in a civilised country with proper hospitals. Away from those killing fields, with malaria, cholera and beri beri, and leg ulcers which ended with amputations. In my case I had malaria six times, cerebral malaria, which roasts your brain and death is terrible. Then there was beri beri which caused the stomach to balloon out, four times normal size, death was the end, when it reached the heart. On the railway, in the so called hospitals, I had witnessed and heard the screams prior to death.  Thank God all that was behind us.

Suddenly we were at yet another railway station and loading into another truck. After moving off, we heard loud noises coming from under each wagon, a clanking noise of iron striking the sleepers, what the devil, it could hardly be something loose. We then became  aware we were going up a gradient, and the engine puffing ‘I think I can do it’. We were on a mountain railway and climbing steeply. The noise must have been caused by hooks under each wagon. In the event of a breakdown, or the train running out of control, this safety device would be able to control the possibility of an accident.

‘Ye Gods’ I thought we will finish on the summit of a mountain. I was wrong as on detraining we found ourselves in a pleasant country area, trees, green grass it was indeed a lovely place. The Sergeant Major set the pace as the Japanese edged us in a direction of travel, and off we set noticing a milestone, Saigon was one mile away. I tried to guess when the next would appear, it helped pass the time when marching, when eventually we found ourselves in an English looking valley. The warming view was being spoiled by the Dutchman next to me, he never stopped talking. In the end I turned to the man just behind me asking him to change places with me. We changed places and my new friend laughingly said,

“He’s not a Dutchman, he’s Geordie.  Even people from North Shields cannot understand their solid dialect”.

I don’t know why but the long march, or shall I say stroll, passed quite pleasantly and the morning felt like English spring. I kept seeing the sign posts. 18, 19 and then 21.  The Sergeant Major shouted,

“March to attention” and we turned left into our new camp.

“Eyes left, eyes front”. So we newcomers tried to march like soldiers, but it was a straggling column.

In the new camp were wooden huts standing on foot high posts, wooden sides, attapi roofing, inside were rough wood plank platforms for our weary forms.  Shortly afterwards we heard a voice telling us we could cross the road and cool down in a fairly wide stream.

On our arrival I had noticed the wide stream with steep sides and at the far end a waterfall of some twelve feet in fall. We rushed over, washing in the stream, with a number climbing the steep slippery ground to slide down into the bottom stream on the cushion of water, bringing screams of delight from the men.

The first morning at the new camp we were marched or walked for about twenty minutes, with many trees lining the rough ground, but certainly not jungle. Arriving at our workplace, we saw a vast flat plain as far as one could see, with very few trees and bushes. My squad was met by a tall Japanese gunsha, who seemed a decent type, but looks had deceived us many times in the past. We warily saw a large mound of sandy earth, perhaps ten feet tall and fifteen feet base. Our Japanese sergeant pulled out his bayonet. I thought ‘what now’,  but to our relief he marked out a portion.  Our job was to carve away and fill in places needing levelling, as it seemed the area was to be an air strip. Levelling this plain would take months. The sergeant, having marked out the earth to be moved, then we could go back to camp. If the men were daft enough to hurry getting it done in quick time, we knew tomorrow, he would mark out larger areas. Would they fall for this old trick? Tomorrow we would see.

In returning to the camp, I ventured up to the to the top of the water fall and quite enjoyed the riding the water experience.

Some days later I was sitting on the top of the waterfall when a loud strange sort of rushing noise reached us, we did not know what it was, we were soon to learn. From far north and perhaps a heavy rainfall, had caused the vast tidal wave. A world of rushing water hit us and down the waterfall we fell into a now swollen stream, it felt like I was in a whirl pool. I was completely submerged, I could do nothing but fall about thrashing, I was drowning. I managed to get my head up, out of the water, a POW seeing me in difficulties, dived in towards me. Without any help from myself, as I was spewing up water from the depths, he got me to the bank. I never again ventured to the top of the waterfall again, as a few days later bathing in the stream was forbidden. No reason was given or expected, it was too dangerous.

Even the cooks were forbidden to draw any water from the stream as it was though to be polluted. One day, after finishing work, we had walked a distance and for the first time we came across four large pits about twenty feet square, two feet deep. The water was pure white. We stood looking, thinking it would be good to jump in wash ourselves. The cooks were drawing water in huge pans from the pits, to carry away and use for cooking. One of the cooks came over, he told us that the M.O had been and tasted the water, he was satisfied the water was safe. although it has a white colour, it would do no harm. We had to be satisfied with the M.O.s decision or remain dirty. We used the white water pits for some months without any dire effect, so the M.O. was right.

On the right of the runway, not too far away from the workings, I saw a round bush heavily leafed. Curious, I walked around it and found an opening, with a little twisting and wriggling I got inside. I could not lay down fully stretched out, it would make a small nest for myself. I could eat my food and lay down for about half an hour, the leafy roof kept the hot sun from me.

From our work area, looking back towards the camp, we could see over the flat plain the silhouettes of the fatigue party carrying and wheeling our tiffin. Being always hungry, even worse than before, these dark figures never seemed to grow any bigger as we had moved further away removing tall and smaller trees. There were not too many, but ahead was a monster. We started digging about four feet away from its trunk. After clearing away at least four feet of dirt, we tried to shaking it loose, but oit did not budge.  We kept repeating the dig, now we had a colossal trench. Some wit was saying the bloody thing goes to Australia. We eventually got the thing out after obtaining extra help to pull it away. The cooks had enough wood for some weeks.

Finishing one evening I was told to stand fast with three other men. What now?  An unknown Japanese arrived with a small truck which had many four gallon tins of petrol on the back with some steps and a ladder. He didn’t speak just sat in the cab smoking some yards outside the runway and in a copse of very nice trees. We must have been there nearly an hour and no one spoke when suddenly to our surprise and fright, the sound of approaching aircraft. Hells bells, an air raid and we were in the middle of it. The Nip didn’t move, perhaps the buggar was deaf. Then we saw it coming in, was it that small or an optical illusion?

The ruddy thing was about to land, it must be a Jap single seater plane. On stopping very near to us, we were ordered onto the truck, which sped off to the plane. We were ordered to unloaded the steps and the pilot put the steps against a wing and climbed up making signs that I was to follow. Striding over the wing, he stooped showing me the petrol in the tank. The men collected the tins of petrol from the truck and I poured the fuel into the planes tanks. When apparently full, I then climbed over to the other wing to fill that tank up. At this point I was sure there was a sound of other aircraft, was this going to be a raid destroying this small aircraft and us also. Hell,  my nerves were in ribbons, but it turned out to be a soft gust of wind going through the trees.

Now on our way back to supper and bed, I thought it is always me to be collect odd jobs.

We had almost finished the air strip, thinking what the devil could they find us next?  It was whilst we thinking on these lines the RAF decided to let the Japanese know they had the griff in their sights. Bombing the runways the Japanese Anti Aircraft gunners were firing away. We being in a safe area many yards away in the trees, watching the Japanese firing widely and many shells falling, not many reaching their target. When the show was over we went back and I thought what harm could they have done, it was only dirt and the bomb craters were easily filled in.

The runway was finished and we were led away from the strip and into a heavily tree area. The trees were not tall and perhaps even old, but we were given instructions, a roadway must be cut through and levelled. The road to be constructed leading directly into, and upto, a low laying six or so sloping hills.

Coming back to the hut that late afternoon all the gang were surprised to see on my bed a parcel beautifully wrapped with no name. Other huts had a similar parcel. On carefully looking, yes they were Red Cross, the first and last ever received.

All eyes were now on me as I carefully opened this precious gift. There would be no possibility of any article just disappearing. The contents were spread on my bed and counted, twenty four items and twenty five men. A mighty problem. As a sergeant I had no privileges, no perks, nothing, the men expected me to act and see as far as possible to their comfort. In effect I have no more right to select and take an article away, but who would go short?  Suggestions were made but none met with approval of all.  Eventually it was agreed each item would be numbered and that number would be put into my hat. A single razor blade would go in as the missing item. Alphabetical men would come and draw. I knew somehow I would draw the blade. My friend John Hole drew a pair of long trousers. The razor blade I drew was useless as none had a safety razor. Maybe I would be lucky next time, believing parcels would be received in the future. Such is optimism.

About a hundred strange creatures appeared on parade some days later.  Squatting down, each with a shawl over their shoulders. They each had  long black hair, each with a piece of bamboo in their left ear which had the lobe distended. When they stood up they were about five feet six inches tall, we were sure some were indeed women. They were all dressed alike, each with a sort of walking stick with crook handle, sticking out straight was a long knife, perhaps twelve inches. How it was fastened we never got near enough to find out, but they were obviously very fast. We never heard them speak, it all seemed like they used a hearing loss hand language. Each had a long basket, similar to a bottle with a thin neck. They put the neck to their mouth and took a swig, with their heads leaning backwards. How and what they did for work we never found out. What I intended as a joke caused one of them to take fright. A pal and myself sat on a fallen rotten tree having tiffin, one of the strange creatures was watching with great interest. I said to my pal,

“I don’t think this lot have seen a white man before, perhaps they are from over that distant mountain”

I suddenly had a thought, my friend had artificial dentures, maybe these had never seen artificial teeth so I asked him to take out his false teeth and show them to Man Friday. He wasn’t too excited or interested, but in the end he agreed. He pulled out both sets of teeth and showed them. The reaction it caused was more than surprising. The man gave a sort of startled grunt and quickly got up, his face absolutely scared and contorted. His friends took notice, and they all fled back a few yards. That caused us to burst out laughing, but then we realised it was a dirty trick to play on innocent people, who to us, seemed like children. We tried to reassure them by placing the teeth back in place. Slowly they came back and we saw several trying to pull their teeth out with all their strength.

The next day I saw something extraordinary myself. One of them, a seemingly old bloke, was splitting a flat piece of bamboo with his stick knife. Thinking I might be seeing some native carving I watched. About fifty splits in the wood bending the bamboo until the splits were wide open, he then, to my astonishment, put the bamboo against his face and pulled. Could it he was shaving by pulling out his facial hair?  I could think of nothing else, shuddered to think of the pain. I found out later the mystery of the small round bamboo pieces carried in their left ear lobes. Where we were there was quite a cluster of kapok bushes. Each bud would burst into a sizeable amount sufficient to fill a cushion. The native would fill the bamboo, and holding in the left hand with two pieces of flint. They would strike the flint and the spark lit the kapok, into a red hot spot. This would be held near their pipes in the mouth lighting their tobacco. I was seeing the first ‘Ronson’ lighter in action. Our lads tried this of way of lighting and after a few tries, we had a red spot. 

Suddenly the strange men were gone, were they unsuitable for the work or just refused?

It was a few days later my pal and I were sitting on the fallen tree having our tiffin when a Japanese gunsha rushed up and ushered us to leave. We later found the tree and area was the track used by a tiger, we never did see the animal, only its tracks.

Doing our work on the road we had now come to the slope of the small hillocks. We were ordered to begin digging away the soil and carrying it away.  In all we were digging some ten excavations keeping to ground level, and inwards of some thirty feet. We were at a complete loss as to what the devil they were for. Nearing completion we learned, they were for protection pits to save bomb splinters. We moved on soon so were not aware of how it eventually worked.

We were now moved on to dig stranger things. A trench had to be dug right around the camp, to a depth of eight feet, eight feet wide and sloping sides, two feet at ground level. The sides to be smoothed. A passage leading to and from the camp was the only way to get in and out. Many thought it was to keep out animals, but the main way of thought, was an invasion likely. When we dug machine gun pits, we all laughed, the guns would be pointing inwards. Just like this daft lot. We had hardly finished and how glad I was, but why the guns faced inwards dawned. Completely out of character, I felt depressed and at times angry at nothing. I found myself one day standing at the bottom and started hitting the sides with my fists and shouting obscenities. I rushed out regardless and went to my bed in the hut. I couldn’t care less if any Nip came in, I felt murderous. After quite some time I went back. My anger had gone but it left a deep depression, and I was crying,

“HOW LONG, HOW LONG”

 I had never felt this before. There was no one I could turn to and talk to. It was too personal and private. I did not feel like taking my own life and the Japs would not have that satisfaction.

It started with heavy rain and with a mate we were taken to a long yard. We given to understand that we had to make a walkway using branches. First we laid two long ropes, were shown trees and  bushes to axe away suitable branches cut to the require width, which were now tied to the thick ropes.  It was tedious and boring with rain bouncing on our backs, the mud was thick and sticky and our knees ached with the bending.  It took about half an hour to make just one yard. The end seemed days away. On the third day at breakfast Staff Sergeant Hole came over telling me the next week was his  birthday and he was going to get his lad to bring in a small bottle of brandy and small cake. His lad was a ten year old native boy, who brought in each day, usually over ripe bananas, small seed biscuits and rice chapatis (flat Indian pancakes.  Staff Sergeant was in charge of the joke named canteen.

“After tiffin we’ll eat and drink this lot you and me”

I think the thought of this treat saved my reason working on this crazy walkway. The rain had not stopped, and the trench was filling nicely. Some distance away the main POWs were working at something else. As usual there was a huge iron basin shaped dish nearly full of drinking water, held over a fire. At around about three each day we were allowed to stop for a quarter of an hour and have our drinking vessels filled. This afternoon I was almost the first in line, on finishing my drink I saw in the bottom of the bowl still some hot water. Without thought I dipped my tin in the water, and heard strong language.

“What the ‘ell do you think you’re doing ?”

“Just taking a drink of left overs “

“I’m in charge of this lot, don’t forget it”

It was his truculent manner that made me be rank conscious, so I asked him,

“When did you join the Nippon army ?”

Faster than a snake striking, he head butted me right in my mouth. I learned later he was a Jock in the Gordon Highlanders and from Glasgow.  Obviously a street fighter.

Seeing the dentist we being lucky in having one, he grinned

“All your teeth are very loose, but don’t worry in about three weeks they will be strong again.

The birthday arrived and leaving work on that damned track, I didn’t look for the Staff Sergeant he’d be along shortly.  He sat himself down, not speaking. So I started

“Well Johnnie, when do we start ?”  I was full of anticipation’

“We don’t, the lad didn’t turn up he’s gone with our money”

I must say that I was in deep shock, for days I had dreamed about this little joy in our dreary life. Sitting there neither speaking, I could understand he was also deeply disappointed. I sat up and said with conviction

“Johnny I’ve worked in purgatory the past few days looking forward to that drink and by the Hell I’m going to have it and you also

He was looking at me saying

“Are you going loopy or what ?”

“No we are going to the Nips car park, they’re running on methylated spirits, no petrol so we go and get some “

“Yer going batty, the Nips will shoot us, and all for a drop of meths”

With more than Dutch courage, but most unlike me to put my head in unnecessary danger

“Come on Johnny, we’ll be alright I don’t see them mounting a guard in this God Forsaken area”

So off we crept. I must admit my heart had moved a lot.  Now in the shadows of the many trucks, no sound from anywhere, I spoke softly,

“Keep your eyes open for any movement I’ll be underneath with our tins.”  I felt along the back and felt the fuel tank, must be about centre I thought the copper fuel pipe it would be very thin.  Now a brick or stone.  Damn, I should have thought about that and found one. Feeling about no good, so I came out it was taking longer than I had thought.

A whisper “What’s the matter”  Johnny’s voice sounded strained.

“Haven’t a bloody stone or brick look around old chap”

“This any good” and he handed me a fair size rough stone.

“Here we go, muck or nettles”

I tried to sound quite jolly and happy, I didn’t succeed. It was harder than I had thought to find the pipe I could pull away from the chassis. Then I heard Johnny,

“Blimey Alf be quick”

I managed and now hit out, not the pipe my thumb, and the sound I thought would wake the dead.

“Be careful Alf, that was an awful din “.

Being half daft I thought this is getting more like a Laurel and Hardy film,  One more belt and we’ll see.

A direct hit I felt liquid pouring on my hand.

Coming from underneath with the two tins full, we ran back to our hut. I was congratulating myself on mission accomplished. Johnny wanted to go to his bed to drink the meths, so I laid back and thought ‘crickey’ the stuff stinks, but there’s hundreds of meth drinkers, so it must taste reasonable.

I took a big swig and swallowed. ‘Ye Gods’ I thought I had swallowed a red hot piece of coal. Breathing heavily the burn went and I took in all four swigs. I heard a cry from a way off,

“Come and get it, Get motoring”

I had the most comfortable sleep for years but at breakfast time I had a slight headache. Working during the day I felt a new man. All day I was thinking, it was so easy, is this how criminals felt after a successful robbery, we should try again, it was unlikely the Nips would mount a guard after a trivial puncture to a fuel pipe. They might think it was caused but an accident on the road. 

Seeing Johnny that supper time, and yes he had slept well too. He was a bit taken aback when I asked him if he wanted another shot of the blamed stuff, but he didn’t sound too excited.

“You know Alf even top jewel thieves make a final mistake”

I laughed,

“I don’t think we are ‘Raffles’, the jewel thieves of all times ?”

So off we went again, it didn’t make it any less frightening, and I thought this is really too much, a firing line for the sake of two pennyworth of spirit. I must not let Johnny know I had a yellow streak. We made sure this time we had with us the tools of trade, a heavy stone. All went well and we slept like two innocents.

During my working next day I carefully thought I hope as to whether we should trust our luck and venture forth a third time. I came to the conclusion it wasn’t worth it, we were not prepared to become Meths drinkers.

After supper I went to Johnny’s bed space and it was empty.  Funny, so I asked his next-door neighbour. He didn’t know much, but Johnny had been taken to the hospital. I went down and there he was looking very unhappy.  The doctor was mystified, he knew Johnny had nothing to eat that would cause his illness, but he felt a few days of rest may effect a cure. Neither of us explained what may have been the trouble. It was all unnecessary as it turned out as an advance party was leaving the next day for Saigon. Johnny and I were not going, but would follow in about five days.

Our sleeping area was known as the Sergants’ Mess, with a woven curtain of straw hung down, so it gave us a slight privacy. That night after supper, I started to tell the other nine POWs, two Sergeant Majors and seven Sergeants, experiences as a young man learning the auctioneering, ins and outs, mistakes, buying bargains and not too much of a bargain.  They started laughing and whether it was their appreciation I don’t know, but their laughing gave me a lift like an actor on the stage. It must have been funny for I spoke for about an hour or so and they were still vastly amused, not dropping off to sleep. Incidentally Johnny had discharged himself.

That night just after supper a Lance Bombardier came in with a face that was frightening. He was stammering which made matters worse, so I shouted to him.

“Pull yourself together man it can’t be that bad”

He managed to say that the railway trucks carrying our lads had been raided by Allied bombers, he didn’t know how many had been killed.

Owing to the length of time it took to sink in, I can only say I suffered shock. Looking at the empty bed spaces and at one in particular it stood out as he was my friend and a schoolboy at the same school. As far as possible we had attended the Old Boys Dinner which was held annually. Nicky, a fellow old boy, who brought along his wife to the last get together, was now gone.

Back to the tragic Sergeants’ Mess, Johnny was saying something I will always remember.

“Alf, old chap, try and remember they left this life laughing. The two Sergeant Majors, ever seen a Sergeant Major even grinning, let alone laughing”

The next afternoon coming in from work I was told that the Pardre was giving a Remembrance Service just after supper. I went along and found the building or hut like a large barn I had not seen before. The Padre spoke of the death and others before them, and also we must be prepared for other tragic events, he spoke with deep conviction. I was so impressed that I thought I must tell him, so I waited his coming out, and I told him of my deep appreciation of his words and understanding.

To my utter understanding as if I had been slapped in the face he blandly said,

“Don’t stop me, I have an egg to boil” and he hurried away.

The next day getting ready for another boring day, until the young Japanese guard Angle grasped my arm. Angel was perhaps about eighteen and most handsome, hence the Angel, but he was the most sadistic. so we tried to keep well away from him. Still with my arm in his grasp he led me to the motor park.  I was rather, concerned what could he want from me. Leading me to the driver seat of a truck, he ordered me to drive out of the camp. He had a fair smattering of English so I understood we were to go some distance. Oh dear, oh me, I was changing gear when the gear lever came away in my hand. I showed him the lever and with a silly sickly smile, he grasped it and plonked the lever on my nut, ball end first. Telling me to fix it, which I did.

Driving on the right as it was French country, we pulled up outside a rickety looking barn and Angel led me to believe I had to look after the truck. I could see inside this large wooden building and there was a long table with a tree on top. All the branches were being removed. It was perhaps two feet in diameter but what struck me was on top a young man, and native, he was sawing down the tree side making a plank. By the building was a river and on the bank was a partly built made boat. The tree had it seemed already been sawn into two planks. The ship builder, for that is what the young native was, was using the longest single handled saw I had every seen or since.  How he kept to the straight line I’ll never know he was certainly a craftsman. How long must he take to saw a plank, it must have seemed endless. I would have loved to have seen him fasten a plank to the ribs of the boat as they needed bending to shape.

Angel had already given me a pair of long trousers which I had put on, they were very short in the leg but at least I was partly covered. At that moment in time I appreciated the gift. After Angel got back into the truck we  went into the village and stopped at a village shop where he bought dozen eggs.  I hoped he would give me one, but no such luck. Driving back to camp there were a dozen or so native youths who started shouting and throwing rotten fruit and other rubbish at us, I was glad there were no stones.

We arrived back at camp with no further incident, he left the truck with the instructions to be back at the truck at 7pm.  This left me in trouble as I had no means of telling the time, so after supper I went to the truck and made myself comfy in driver’s seat hoping I would not be troubled by a Nip or Korean, fortunately I wasn’t.

Angel came swaggering along and we again drove to the village but I was not instructed to stop. We must have travelled twenty miles and I was getting worried about the amount of fuel the truck had. 

Arriving at a fairly modern town, with brick and stone houses, plus some shops. He seemed to know where he was and why we were here. He navigated me down a modern civilian road, with bungalows on both sides, I was told to stop and off he went entering a bungalow, I had a feeling this could be a brothel. This was a good chance to find a English speaking civilian and get the latest news about the war. There was a sprinkling of pedestrians, so speaking as normal as I could I asked if anyone could speak English, but none stopped, so I spoke louder. A boy about of about ten years old stopped and looked at me,

“I speak a little English”

I was in luck so bending down I asked how the war was going.  He looked at me blank. I tried several approaches, but he didn’t understand me, I was getting desperate, so I mentioned ‘Air raids, bombs’. Absolutely nothing came back from him in reply, I had learnt nothing at all. Back in the truck, Angel came back looking pleased with himself, at least that was something, now back to camp and to bend.

The next morning Angel sought me out again, he had with him a large piece of white drawing paper, which he gave me, with a pencil and ruler. I made out he wanted me to draw an English home. I did not know how he knew I liked amateurish technical drawing.

Going back to the hut, I sat for some time thinking of what to draw, a typical English semi would cover little, I decided that all English men should live in large mansions so that is what I would draw. I started with a large hall with a middle staircase, dividing it in the centre with wings on either side.  The centre wall had a large stain glass window. either side two armoured knights with massive swords. Over a large stone fireplace, I placed iron basket with two iron dogs, one looked fierce with lion sized fangs. On the opposite wall, I added a head of an elephant, an antelope and a stag.

When Angel came back late afternoon, he burst out laughing and pointing at the animal heads. He was of the opinion they had rushed in through the walls. That was my last encounter with Angel, I never saw him again as we entrained the follow day.

Going back down the mountain railway and thinking about the tragic end to mates who were killed in an RAF air strike on their departing journey, we eventually arrived at the modern railway station finding it totally destroyed. It was a tragic as it had been bombed to extinction. We stayed the night on the train at the station, the next day we set off all feeling rather down, if not worse, thinking the long journey was taking us into a danger area.

We changed into trucks of the gondola type of open trucks, at least this allowed us to see the drivers mate, who was on look out. Having travelled about forty miles, we kept a look out the bombed rail trucks, but as yet they had not been seen. Suddenly the engine stopped with both driver and mate running from the train across a paddy field, we were not far behind them. I saw passing me Lance Bombardier Heap, he was certainly moving. It turned out to be a false alarm, so we slowly returned to the trucks and commenced our journey.

Now talking of Lance Bombardier Heap, I must take a trip back into the past, which has nothing to do with the historical story but worth a mention.

His Uncle was middle aged and a well known Blackpool businessman, but he was portly, certainly overweight. I was in the Palatine Cocktail bar which was always busy, but not on this night. As the only customers we started a conversation. He happened to say that he, with his nephew, had been messing about in the Lake District climbing mountains.  It was unfortunate but entirely my fault, I stared at him, he was fat and knowing his nephew, he was also rather fat. How could these two, obviously out of condition, be climbing high and dangerous mountains.

It so happened I had been in Dicks Bay, Keswick seeing many slim and  fit climbers having a drink. Their kit, ropes, heavy boots, alpine sticks, ruck sacks, looking at them and their professional kit, thinking how much I would like to climb with them, but unfortunately I suffered from height sickness. One evening while talking to a climber, I mentioned that I admired their courage and fitness. He laughed,

“Do not be fooled, most of these are scramblers, are going on the scrub and shale, the tackle you see is for self-importance, they are scramblers”

Remembering this in the Palatine Cocktail bar, I asked Mr. Heap, saying with some knowledge of course,

“I suppose of course you are both scramblers”

I can offer no excuse for what followed except it was entirely out of character except I was foolishly handing out superior knowledge, what ever made me say that. He looked at me in some surprise.

“Didn’t know you were a rock man”

It served me right of course, but I rambled on with due modesty,

“Well, I’ve done a few of the more popular climbs”  Little did I realise the mess I found myself in.

“What’s your favourite climb?” he asked.

I had read and knew many of the names of the climbs, but this night I could not remember anyone of them. I began to suspect that he had by now suspected I was a complete imposter, but how could I get out of this. The simplest was to admit I had spoofed him, but I didn’t. Remembering the “Chimney, which was well known to every schoolboy, but what a weak defence, it would certainly make me look ridiculous, but I must get out somehow. I remembered a film about a competition in Switzerland called the ‘Blue Lamp’. Briefly an English side challenged an Italian team to climb a mountain, the base in both Switzerland and Italy. The Italians won. 

“Of course I climbed the English one” and I laughed.

Looking at me he said “Yes of course, I also saw the film ‘The Blue Light’

Climb out of that, I never saw him again.

But back to now and the run away from possible bombs. Since we were first caught Lance Corporal Heap had worked in the so called hospitals. It was said he had a serious complaint in both legs and was unable to do physical work, keeping busy with hospital work. If the complaint was serious and kept him out of the Nips way, how come he could run faster than fit men across the paddy fields away from a false bomb warning?

There was no further trouble, and we were now approaching Saigon in the evening darkness. As we approached Saigon, in the distance, there appeared to be a light over a rather large area, this was strange. Working further up North, we had nothing but coconut oil lighting, which certainly did not give off this much light. Moving towards Saigon we came across street electric lighting. There were no black or brown outs, which we had got used to in our years as prisoners, we had completely forgotten what it was we had missed.

I now move into the unnatural and indescribable position, I cannot truly describe.

We stopped in perhaps the middle of Saigon, and we sat looking in absolute wonder at the sight so lovely and yet indescribable. From the green jungle hell, the sandy plain of a small desert, the sight was beyond words. I can say that my head swirled, was it possible that people could be living in that fantastic life style whilst we died in horrific conditions. We were out of the trucks and marching in the dim light of the street lamps, with no one seeming to be about. We entered a dark area with army type huts, which  could just be seen. I was allocated a top bunk and soon was surprising asleep.

So started a new existence, just as boring as before.  I worked mostly on the docks, humping sacks of rice or cleaning the area. An elderly Japanese soldier sought me out and seemed to be trying to ease his acute sense of guilt by saying how sorry he was about our treatment. He had never left Saigon, but had heard about jungle camps and the high death toll. It was his hope that the world would forgive Japan for the war. He told me he had no idea why it started. I felt no sorrow for him or his guilt. He wanted to borrow any English books, which we hadn’t. Being in good command of English, he seemed a decent enough man, but I couldn’t begin to like him.

It was soon after this when about twenty of us were loaded onto Japanese truck and we travelled quite a distance in a very uncomfortable truck. Their was little civilian traffic, mostly army vehicles. In the mid-afternoon we found ourselves surrounded by Japanese soldiers who turned out to be Japanese engineers, and very capable engineers they were. They were rebuilding a blown up stone bridge with a temporary one over a fifty feet wide slow moving river.  The entire centre of the old bridge had been blown away.

They had a raft system with manually operated pulleys and ropes, it looking highly efficient. They were friendly and even polite, living in a small hotel nearby. To our great surprise we were allowed to eat with them, same food, but we slept outside the hotel. We believed this work would take many weeks, but they managed it in days, replacing it with a very strong timber bridge.

We were then returned back  to the docks with real sorrow.  This break of a few days, showed us that the Nips could be friendly, and when they were, they would get more out of us.

I had strange experience whether I can explain is going to be difficult, whilst unloading bagged rice from a railway wagon. We were packing them in large warehouse using a wood plank to keep our balance while walking on the raising sacks, as the packing got higher, balance got more important for our safety. Sitting below, crossed legs on the dusty floor were some twenty young Vietnamese women, they never looked up or as we passed them dozens of times, with these blasted sacks. They appeared to be involved at working on some sort of woollen and basket work.

I thought blow it I’m going to have a short rest by the large open doors of the warehouse. Across the paved roadway and then a three foot high wall, I could see several large detached residences. My eye was suddenly caught, while looking at an upstairs window, by an obvious French woman, who I felt sure was looking at me, or it seemed she was.

I felt as though she was thinking of me with some nauseating and disgust.  She suddenly turned into what was obviously the bedroom. I could picture her standing on a carpet, perhaps looking at her bed, which was covered in a coloured quilt, the bed would have clean lovely white sheets and pillows. There was a dressing table, with cut glass bottles, a large wardrobe full of  lovely clothes, maybe even suits belonging to her husband. Could there be a bathroom with a bath and toilet. I looked down at myself, knowing I was an object beyond pity, a dirty piece of flotsam. My mind wandered to the outside, seeing people walking the pavement, perhaps going into a shop and actually buying a custard pie, another buying cigarettes. Then down came a black velvet curtain, the experience was like being to a theatre and seeing a play, it wasn’t real, just my imagination playing the scene. This was real this dirty high building, an eye sore.

Carrying on work carrying the heavy bags, my mind began to believe, maybe, just maybe, behind that black blind in the upstairs window, there were people living like that. It then dawned on me, it was a fantasy to believe that, and in it lay possible madness. Just look about you and you’ll realise what is the truth and what your life is now. I somehow put that brief look behind me, looking at my tin plate with dirt laden rice and what looked like a sardine.

Being in a modern city, illness could be non fatal, with illness lasting only a few days. Yet illness came in new varieties, Beri Beri, Dengue and Ring Worm were all still around and very unpleasant. The biggest worry Beri Beri, this was a fatal and horrible death. I went down with Dengue a sweating condition, all your body was itching, the only relief back in camp was awaiting your turn to climb and soak in an oil tin barrel emptied and refilled with near boiling hot water. I had seen ring worm forming on both my arms, with dirty rusty round rings. Later I was horrified to see my skin peeling off my private parts, leaving pink under skin, it was scurvy. In a short time this would spread to  other parts, and for some death, there was no treatment possible.

About twenty of us were marched through Saigon and into an agriculture area, we were put in, dirty and abandoned, French army huts alongside a canal. I don’t know why but all along the canal side were wooden model anti-aircraft guns, which could be a hidden military.  From a certain position one could see a large church, perhaps Roman Catholic. At times I could see a minister looking at us, it crossed my mind I could easily get to the church, but would he hide me and keep me there. I was being rather silly, if he did for what purpose, there was no escape as I couldn’t get away, and he may be tortured if not worse, so being harsh on myself, I was to forget these fanciful dreams.

We were actually here to gather in vegetables and pick certain fruit, I was eating more than my fill of the green vegetables, dirty soil and all. These I hoped would stop the scurvy. It certainly helped much to my peace of mind.

On returning to our Saigon huts, my elderly Japanese friend now informed that the British army were making large advances in Burma. Whilst in the North and digging that trench around our camp, we knew this was to have been our burial place as all PoWs were to be killed and buried.

My Japanese friend told me the Japanese High Command had issued orders that on the 15th September all English POWs were to be killed, saying,

“As you very good friend I will cut your throat”

I had to believe this, as what was the point him making such a statement.

 Apart from my now knowing, the order soon got around to everyone.

I was working with others in the dirty evil smelling river, with dead animals floating about and scum of every sort. We were lined up in the water by a barge filled with timber, 6 x 4 and 4 x 3 long spars or joist. Passing these at shoulder height to the riverbank to be loaded on trucks.  Standing in the river it wasn’t too bad, until a craft passed by causing a wake and a flurry of small waves. One had to be careful not get a  mouthful of the filthy river water. It was on the second day in this awful work that things started happening that seemed to have no connection with us but  there it was. Around noon we saw from a high building, some half mile away, a sunlight reflected signal. I thought some one is going to get into serious trouble. A little later, two lovely horses, pulling a luxurious coach, passed us, with driver aloft and two elderly ladies both with parasols on board. The ladies were waving their handkerchiefs, it was so out of character for the civilians to communicate with us, we nearly stopped work.

Back at the barracks while having our tiffin, word was passed that there would be a full parade in fifteen minutes, now what devilry had they cooked up now.  We stood to attention when the Japanese Colonel came strutting along with his staff and the long dangling sword. He stood on a small box and coughed before starting.

“English Prisoners of War bombs have been dropped on two Japanese cities. The cities have completely disappeared with a million innocent Japanese people. Our Emperor  has therefore capitulated in full, and you are now Freemen. The Japanese guard will continue to guard you and there will be many revolutionisers in Saigon. The destruction is beyond  belief and the whole of Japan mourns”

We all walked back to our billets, there was no shouting or laughing, just a silence you could cut with a knife. Lying on our beds, what to make of this?   We had heard from all sorts of sources in the past we were free, only to have our hopes dashed with misery. Coming even from the Camp Commandant, the Japanese were capable of saying and doing anything.  Even not going out to work, did we believe him. I personally felt a great sadness that a human being could be so merciless to maybe lead our pour sods minds into more distress. Quite out of the blue, a small band of my men stood in front of me, their spokesman, with that disbelieving look in his eyes, asked me to find out if it was true. I felt a lump in my throat, how could I help?  If I walked past the guards hut, and we were not free, I could get a few bullets in me. Whilst standing there we heard a light aircraft approaching we rushed out to see, and yes there it was all white. Anti Aircraft shells started bursting out around it. Was this the answer? The lads faded away.

Later it was learned the Padre was giving a Thankful Service of Peace in an old stable building at 7pm. I felt an hypocrite betting on both sides. We had a short service of Our Deliverance and three hymns. He asked us to believe in the peace, but our mistrust was deeply seated. He was a Godly man believing in trust and Godliness.

After the service a member of my gun crew came to me saying,

“Sarge, halfway down the fence is a  sheet which is lose, I think we could bend it and as the guards are in full view. If they rush us we can get back into the camp, if they don’t we are free”

This seemed to make sense. So off we went and bent the sheet and there were no guards. So we stepped outside with some trepidation, safe and it was true, we were free. This soon got around, I was not functioning, not knowing how I felt, but by some strange coincidence a piano appeared in the old Gymnasium and a lad was vamping and singing.

Much later I went to my bed but couldn’t sleep, my mind was confused. I kept seeing faces of the lads who hadn’t made it, that dreadful jungle. I kept trying to keep to good things, we were going home. This was difficult, after almost seven years away from home, over three years now absent, maybe believed dead. Carrying on like this would lead to madness. How long before we would leave this part of the world, was it to be a long sea voyage, my mind was in a turmoil. It was breaking dawn before I went to sleep.

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