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Sergeant Alf Waterhouse
Japanese Attack Malaya
After we arrived at Singapore there was a lot of clearing up to do, mixed in with other small duties, the first of our regiment to disembark was at five o’clock. I was doing something in the dining room when in walked a Military Policeman, he was all smiles and seemed friendly, I was rather suspicious of this character. He looked rather pale as I had supposed he would look suntanned. When he laughed after I asked why, he said the climate on Singapore is damp, whilst warm it is treacherous and everything grows too quickly. Singapore children leave for England or UK before they are ten, otherwise they would grow too tall and weakly. Within three months unless looked after everything in Singapore goes green and wither.
We left soon afterwards, marching the three mile to the Railway Station. After reaching the Railway Station, not one of us was without perspiration showing on our shirt backs, and running down our faces. On the Station was a number of young women, all with postcards which were handed around the Regiment and each man was told to write a message home and they would be posted for free. Mine showed a donkey perhaps on a beach, at this I had to smile as when about 10 years old on holiday in the Isle of Man, my father and mother picking post cards to send home. My father picked a similar postcard having a beach donkey. My mother, not realising I was listening told dad not to send the postcard as his mother may think they were thinking of her as a donkey and she would be really mad. I entirely misunderstood and thought my granny was bad-tempered and became very frightened of her.
Getting aboard the train at Singapore, we found ourselves in native carriages, these being wooden seats, and no overhead luggage rack. If we thought that our travel by British Rail uncomfortable this carriage beat everything. Our luggage was with us and stopped any leg movement possible. There was no water, no food, no help and no toilet or wash-room facilities.
I had copped a middle seat and looking out of the carriage window, the night was totally black, with native fires burning every few miles. One of our signallers was sighing and kept singing,
“They’ll be coming in their Stukas when they come” which referred to German dive bomber planes.
All things come on an end and when we got out at what we found was a large village called Ku Lang. I don’t know how far we marched, but we came to a large Army camp, with the usual long huts but with thatched roofs, a verandah the full length. If there had been deck chairs or loungers, it would be extremely nice to sit there, but there was not any of such facilities. For some strange reason at night we had a brown out instead of a black out. But why, who was a danger to us? I had a small room at one end, being in charge of the gunners in the hut. The beds each had a mosquito net, going down with malaria was a chargeable offence, issued with evil smelling ointment, anti mosquito nets.
Perhaps here I should try to explain our shorts. It was possible to unbutton the fold and let down the trouser leg which would then cover the leg, just short of the ankle. Before unfolding, the shorts they were baggy and we looked like circus clowns. I think everyone would not want to be seen in these terrible looking shorts.
Going to village about half a mile away. It was comprising a complete centre of stalls, mostly fruit may unknown varieties.
On three sides were offices and perhaps Municipal buildings, on the other, three tailor’s shops with dummies in the window which looked absolutely first class workmanship. It was obvious later all soldiers would have an extra shorts on order, one pair were kept to wear in camp, to escape any questions. On going and wearing the baggy shorts I passed a white woman, who I supposed was from a rubber plantation. As we passed I gave her a friendly smile, hoping for a welcoming smile being in a foreign country but I received a fixed look back. This was the last white woman I would see for the next three years.
The fourth shop a shoe shop the owner took my foot measurements and promised that the next day they would be ready. Price $1 10s Now with fitted shorts, hose (on issue) and my new black shoes I felt like a millionaire. An old sergeant said to my surprise that they will not last long you know as the green leather had not been cured. He was right in one respect they did not last long.
One afternoon we had been there about three days, three of us found nice clean café and had English toast and egg, it was duck egg and tasted very fishy. Time spent in the camp was boring and I wondered how long we could even exist here. Our guns had not yet arrived and the camp was dreary, sandy and dusty, there were no books, just nothing, being browned out at night did not help. One good thing, the food was very good and we had plenty of it.
An Army printed newspaper of six pages, had photos of soldiers sitting in holes with guns at the ready, surrounded by jungle, I wondered, reading under the paragraph ‘British soldiers ready to defend Malaya’, who were they expected to fight?
Our guns had now arrived and the gunners were cleaning away the oil and grease which was smeared on for the long sea journey. Otherwise I am sure they were like me bored with little to do. Apart from eating, I dobied (washed) my uniform and dried them and then ironed them again, as it helped to pass the time, going to the village was a waste of time.
I think it was about our seventh day, early in the morning, after we arrived at Ku Lang when the duty sergeant told me that the old man wanted me pronto, so I had to get weaving. What the devil could he want? The surprise of my life was waiting for me when told that a message was received from Singapore High Command, Pearl Harbour has been bombed and attacked by the Nippon air force on December 8th. The British Government had declared war on Japan the following day as Japanese Forces had landed at Kota Bharu, Malaya, also in French Indo-China and were moving to the Thai Border with Malaya. As I had been on a Air Raid Precautions course, I was told to report to the local authority of Ku Lang and help to organise Air Raid Precautions. I was then dismissed.
Leaving his office I was deep in thought of how I could help, what could I do. First I could not speak Malay and in the last two weeks I was used as a labourer and received no information or any experience of giving any practical help. The Colonel must have forgotten about me, as things turned out I may have been put in an even worse position. On trying to leave the camp to advise, the guard emphatically refused to let me out saying that the Regiment was moving into action stations in the following hour. I went to see the Adjutant asking what I was supposed to do as I was ordered to help air raid precautions in Ku Lang. His reply rather surprised me as I was told to get cracking with my gun and crew see they are ready for parade within the hour. I tried to tell him I would then be breaking orders but that was as far as I got, as I was told,
“You heard my order, now get moving”
We set out that morning in column on route and it must have been a majestic sight of a Regiment of Royal Artillery with 48 guns with gun carriages, trucks both large and small and private cars. On the roof of the Quad Sergeant’s vehicle was an opening hatch for him to stand with his head and shoulders out keeping a constant look out for enemy aircraft.
On the long thousand mile journey to the Thai border my thoughts went back to a few days ago when a staff office from H Q command gave us a talk on a possible enemy coming down this road. He spoke in a Sandhurst voice, but he left me with some questions, what enemy? I could think of no enemy, was it India, no that was daft, the Thais, no they looked a poor lot and with no army, French Indo China or who else?
We were told that Malaya was a long carrot shape with one main road, and this was the road we were travelling on. He said quite strongly a field gun on a bend hidden and not seen by the enemy and this field gun could stop an army. On either side it was thick impenetrable jungle, except for an occasional Rubber Plantation. The worst terrain in the world, with no tracks or road, maybe a few native trails but unable to follow. There was just the road. This would have been comforting if we had not been at war.
We saw or had no trouble with the Japanese planes and felt in a jolly mood. Around tea time we entered a well made army camp, strong wooden huts, clean and I saw a familiar sight, a changing of the Guard, except the sergeant and guard were very smart Gurkha soldiers. The Gurkha Guard gave his orders in English, crisp and with authority. Now not on duty I spoke to the guard, asking for the NAAFI. He gave me a frightening look, with his hand on his knife, I backed away quickly wondering what I had done wrong. An officer was passing and gave me advice, the Gurkha knew we were now on war footing, and as he had never seen a Japanese and he was taking no chances. I was advised to keep well clear of them as they speak no English and only follow orders.
After morning parade we set off on the last leg of our journey to the Thai/Malaya border. After about an hour run to our destination we passed lorries going in the opposite direction, these were filled with Royal Air Force personnel, none waved or even smiled at us. I wondered what was the matter as we were friends but in different corps. I later learned they had been at a large RAF station and the Japanese had attacked in force before a single British plane took off. All the aircraft at their Alo Star airfield had been destroyed. This meant we had no air cover it had gone. This like so many serious occurrences which took place, is not mentioned by Historians.
In the late afternoon we were placed in gun positions with the sound of heavy gun fire, grump, grump and more grumping in the distance. Our troop were under trees, with the gun crews hoping they were invisible to any enemy aircraft. Nothing was happening in our sector so we were at rest smoking and chattering. Had the Nips retired? Suddenly an order to ‘TAKE POST’ was given. We awaited firing orders, range, height etc. The gun crew was in action, the Layer was ready, the Loader was now taking off the safety cap from the shell. This was now ready and the Loader must take care to catch the visible plunger in the nose, we could go to heaven or elsewhere if he caught the plunger. I was tense it was my responsibility now, when the Gun Position Officer, GPO, shouted “ALL GUNS FIRE”.
I shouted like my fellow sergeants “Number four gun FIRE”. I have never known a group of gunners to move as fast, from the branches of our covering trees, thousands of red ants, the size of your little finger nail emerged, each of us were covered. Wearing tin hats we could not brush these man eaters from us except by hand. Somehow we managed, all suffering from many huge bites. In later days we found these attacked on sight, attacking anything that moved. The GPO allowed us to come into the open and we began firing when ordered.
For myself and I can only speak on a personal note. The move into a war and travelling great distances, I thought little about what may happen. It did not strike me as dangerous, this was proved by our firing at the now enemy. There was no answering fire, except the far away guns.
We were ordered to clear the area around each gun. Brass cartridge cases were piled in a neat block. Just after this clean up “TAKE POST” was ordered and we were ready once more. This took place all morning and until about four o’clock in the afternoon. The ration lorry arrived and we filled our billy cans with mostly cold rations and enamel mugs with poor tea. It was to be found that the fighting soldiers fared worse with food and drink in action than in the barracks. Suddenly and without our knowledge our Quads (gun towers) had arrived and we got orders “LIMBER UP” and to be “BLOODY SHARPISH”.
Number One gun drove off followed by the remainder of the troop, fondly I believed we would be advancing, but to my disbelief they turned left away from the enemy. As I was about to follow, I was stopped by an officer who waved me to pull over and face the Japanese. The GPO then told me we would be doing a rear-guard action, while our troops pulling back. My job and his was to cover them. I did not believe it, believing we never retreated, but orders are orders.
We were given new targets, after the Crew Layer had got his gun on to a correct line. We were on the main road left hand side, and we saw three lorries packed with soldiers pass us, they took no notice of us, it was still very quiet. A small army truck with canvas roof approached with three soldiers holding an officer who was being held part in the truck and half hanging out. It was obvious they had moved quickly with no time to get inside. I looked in horror as his stomach was hanging out with blood all over the place. That was my first sight of war injuries. I recognised that war was highly dangerous from reading and the cinema which detailed wounds and deaths but it had never seemed real and affecting me, until now. I was kept too busy to be troubled except to feel sorrow for that man. Major Gill was beside us, and told us that there was no point in us staying, three men were to go with him and the others to take their chances. I had no chance of course, but I felt rather proud when I said. “We stay with the gun sir”. As his car was disappearing, I deeply regretted that I was not with him.
At that moment it seemed all hell let loose. On our left was a sort of high bank, and from there shouts and rifle fire came. I felt no fear or anything, except my mind adjusted to, this is it. The shouting was getting nearer and several bullets hit our gun. In my mind I pictured a street which was a main thorough fare in Blackpool, and I was smiling saying to myself that it was a pity I would not see that again. Some moments before I had been hungry, but not now. My bladder felt like relieving. On the road in a single file, about fifty Indian soldiers were going towards the enemy. I felt a deep sorrow, they were going to their deaths. Suddenly and with heartfelt thanks the GPO was shouting “Limber up and get out” I hadn’t noticed that our Quad had driven up.
Driving fast down the main road away from the enemy, my hunger had come back and I wanted to talk about anything, apart from the guns firing and the danger we faced, but anything else. In the near future, I would often feel this urge to eat and talk when wanting to take my mind off something.
We must have travelled some ten miles before we were stopped and guided into Rubber Plantation. Getting out of the Quad a Captain Hilton stopped by, telling us to cheer up, as tomorrow we were to counter attack and show those buggers. I never found out where he got that information from or why, but for the next few weeks we never made a counter attack.
The following morning we got going again retreating backwards for some miles and then into a Plantation. We just left our guns in the rubber trees, and with others we came across the Planter’s house which stood in the middle of a large lawn with palm trees on three sides. The house had the usual long veranda with our officers and the planter and his wife seated in basket chairs, with drinks on the tables, I could have pinched one.
We were just on the fringe of of the jungle when we heard the dreadful sounds of enemy dive bombers, with ‘out of space’ screams as they came towards the earth which were coupled with the added scream of the falling bombs. My reactions were totalling different from yesterday, as the sounds were bursting in my head, my nervous system was paralysed. I had thrown myself down on the ground as the bombs exploded, the ground seemed to erupt and then they were gone. We had our first casualty who had forgot to lay face down on the ground, instead he had started running. Strangely enough he was the signal man singing in the railway carriage “They’ll be coming in their Stukas when they come”. It was Japanese Zeros that came. Getting up I realised that for the first time, someone was actually trying to kill me, bombs in England had seemed were like in a cinema film. This time was personal and I was shaken.
We all thought that the next day we would be moving, but we were stood on parade awaiting orders. A small officer, Mr Moss, was least like a soldier but no doubt he had ability to address us. It so happened I had met Mr Moss when the regiment were in Liverpool the Battery started a driving school, applicants did no guard or other duties. This seemed a good idea so I put my name down. The vehicles for learner drivers, being a Co-operative flat lorry, a small Ford Van and a large Leyland wagon, which had solid tyres and a great lever from some giant machine. Mr Moss was the instructor and after having driven for some thirty years or more, I found the trucks not too difficult to understand. Mr. Moss had failed me as I used the gears too often. It was strange as I was taken out of the driving school.
Back to the parade - Mr. Moss detailed off fifteen men dismissed the others except me. He informed me that with these men you will be issued with rifle and fifteen rounds of ammunition each and be ready to move in ten minutes. To be truthful I was not sorry to be moving from here, those Zeros may be back. We were ordered to march Indian file, I was with Mr. Moss who was explaining that we were going to a bridge which had been mined and blown, it was over a wide stream. On the opposite bank will be a railway line with a narrow track. He explained that the Japanese may try and cross there, our job would be to stop them. At 4 o’clock a body of the Norfolk Regiment should be arriving by train and if attacked we must support them. I looked at my wrist watch, being 10 o’clock, we had six hours. With directions, it took about ten minutes to reach bridge, a single span steel bridge. It had been blown up at the centre but it was a botched job. It looked a ‘V’ both ends on the banks. The track opposite was in a large area of low bushes and small trees, it was impossible to see if anything was moving on the other side.
I knew that none of us had any idea of an Infantry fire fight, I did know however, that the enemy, if they came down the track, would not just walk into us, they would send scouts and would certainly have mortars. The powers that controlled us must know a lot more than I, and their sending this pathetic little lot to face an obvious well trained enemy was just ludicrous. Between Mr. Moss and I we spaced out our men, hiding them them out in cover behind bushes. In the centre we placed the reserve ammunition box, it was come and get it if you can. I noticed coming towards us on the railway line two officers, both Indian. I approached them and asked their business. They answered they had been ordered to finish the bridge and make it impossible for the Japanese to cross. At this I made no reply as surely the Nips would just wade across as it was shallow enough. I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that our betters in staff positions had just no idea. Between now and 4 o’clock, the Japanese would be able to capture our guns and goodness knows what else, it made sense to me to do nothing else but retreat. The two gallant Indian officers made a terrific explosion, and when everything settled, the bridge was just the same, but perhaps minus a little paint.
It got to around 5 minutes to 4 o’clock when I asked Mr Moss if we could move off now and dead on 4 o’clock we started back as the Norfolks had not arrived. Did they realise how daft the position was? Perhaps halfway back we saw and heard about ten aircraft flying towards the Nips and as we could not see no markings, were hopeful they were RAF to smack the enemy hard. After not hearing any explosions, the aircraft we spotted must have been Nips.
Arriving back to the guns, we heard they had not been disturbed. Next morning we again struck out towards Malaya, it was being heard amongst the troops that we were to end up in Singapore. Trying to stop this talk, I was saying, with conviction, that our Generals were playing a powerful but dangerous game drawing the enemy in for a final ambush.
After firing our usual amount of shells, which was about forty, we pulled out yet again, and reached a wooden, well kept, what we thought an army camp but it turned out to be a deserted Hospital Camp. We slept in comfortable beds of the Hospital for the first time in some weeks. Just after breakfast a small runt of a gunner came in laden with rubber hot water bottles. He was shouting in glee that he would sell the lot to the natives and make a fortune. His face dropped when someone shouted that it would be impossible selling hot water bottles in this heat.
We moved on and in the rear of our new gun position was a neat bungalow on stilts. Doing a stand down, I went to the bungalow which was empty of course, and laid down on the sandy ground under the bungalow. Suddenly noticing that the sand was trickling away as though there was a hole there. Was it the family silver? Knowing that if it was household goods or jewellery I could not take them. Looting was a dangerous game, but I could at least take a peak. I dug away, quite excited, but then what if it was a body. I dug on and came across a plain wooden box, followed by a large bag of rice. Trying to lift the box out, damn it, I would have to have help. I asked Stringfellow as he was discreet and a very silent lonely man. We struggled and eventually got the box safely inside a cabinet of the Quad, finding about 240 tins of Nestles Sweetened Milk. We decided to half the tins, with one each day per crew. Our delight in our plan was shortened however as Major Gill’s car approached and ordered Stringfellow and myself to follow him, with the two guns. I don’t know how far we travelled but it was some way before we entered a driveway boarded by palm trees, leading towards a wealthy man’s home. We were told to get the guns trained on an open seaway. The Major Gill gave us the unwelcome news that it was known the Japanese were preparing a landing on this part of the coast, our job would be to sink any Japanese landing craft if they tried the landing here.
I must have looked in positive amazement at Major Gill as I had assumed that they would be brought ashore by lifeboats, the tank landing craft and steel landing craft were unknown to me at that time. The first thought of sinking easy prey lifeboats vanished, Naval ships would destroy us in minutes, again this was a suicide stand.
Behind us was the wealthy large house and it was possible to see the kitchen containing a Chinese cook, which could be his daughter, and most certainly a lovely young woman. I went over hoping to look round this luxurious home, not to steal or loot as that was against all Army discipline. A male cook took a stand in the double glass doorway and his daughter, if such, looked frightened. Not thinking of the speech difference I explained I just wanted to have a lookee see. This made matters worse, so I retreated. Whenever I happened to pass the kitchen, the cook was standing there like some Praetorian guard for his daughter who seemed always busy with her cooking. Our food brought to us was thoroughly bad, the RASC driver was never sorry, exclaiming,
“Take it or leave it, I only bring it”.
Like the others there was nothing to do but think and feel sorry for yourselves. Sitting on the grass looking out to sea, after strenuous active life in the army, lazing about was making us all cranky and bad tempered. Stringfellow and myself started to indulge ourselves by sharing and eating a tin of Nestle Milk, but it made no difference, no one laughed or was even talking, it was bad for moral. So, I started giving Physical exercise but was mistaken by the men who resented this in the heat of day. If only there were newspapers or a book, anything, to help the day along. Maybe in that big house there was some books we could borrow. So, I got four men and we marched to the kitchen door. He stood there guarding, and uncertain to our motifs, and so with regret we pushed him aside. There were sounds of disgust of what we had done from the lads, I sighed and retreated from the kitchen, at least I had tried.
To everyone’s delight the next day we were moving back to the guns, everything seemed ok and we were glad to be back with our mates. I must have been living in a fool’s paradise as Major Gill gave me five rifles with five rounds, plus three soldiers. He explained, that the Japanese were coming around the sides of the troops to engulf them, therefore we would take precautions, pointing at me and the three men, he ordered us to take on an outlook position and listen and investigate any unknown noises, also lookout for paratroops who could be dropped. At that we were off, after he wished us ‘Good Luck’. This was not too bad, I thought, just listening.
We went by bren carrier along the main road and he left us to make our way into the rubber plantation with a packed lunch and flasks of coffee. I found a natural large hole reasonably deep and not quite enough room but comfortable, but it gave us a reasonable lookout away from prying eyes. Nothing happened and to keep the peace I agreed to smoking cigarettes. Suddenly one of the gunners whispered to me “Listen sarge”, I didn’t upbraid him for his cheeky ‘Sarge’ but listening there was a strange sort of voice, high and squeaky, I could not make it out. Could it be Japanese? I knew it could not be Indian rubber workers as the tall trees were showing white latex running waste. Obviously this noise had to be looked into but I made grievous mistake, I was thinking I must do something and show the men an example, if not this showed lack of leadership, I was in command I should send out one of the men, but I went carrying my rifle across my chest and crawled like a snake towards the noise. Yes it was getting louder and less understanding, I was sure these were Japanese, say four or five, should I shoot them? If I thought yes this would have been more stupid, I’d never used a rifle, I do not think its just pointing and firing but I was getting excited, again this was dangerous. Just a few more yards and then, there was a small open space and the high voices were coming from about ten hungry chickens. Feeling an absolute fool, I walked back but did not tell the men what I had found, but worse was to come.
Looking down a long avenue of of hundreds of extremely tall rubber trees, laid out in squares of fours in perfect straight lines in all the lanes, I saw some movement at the end of one long avenue, men and certainly in uniform. This time there was no mistake, they were human forms. Again I lacked leadership, I ran from behind one tree to another on opposite sides keeping hidden and yes, these were soldiers and not ours. Nearing the end of the trees I was suddenly gripped and bundled into a white small building. They were certainly not Indian. One wearing an office type of flat cap, on his collar either side a badge of three small stars. Somehow, I didn’t feel any fear and blaming myself as a bloody fool. I was saying without giving thought that I was a British soldier and a sergeant, that was a stupid thing to say. The officer was yapping away and did not seem to be shouting orders. He signalled the other six men and they all left. I had noticed a window, with no frame or glass, this was my a chance. I disappeared through the window and ran, maybe not the way I had come. I kept running, expecting a shot at any moment, but glad to be away.
I came across a main road, which I think was this the road we had travelled in the quad, if so I should perhaps be able to see our hidey hole. I was running as fast as I could when I came across a line of Artillery on the move. They were not the 137 Field Regiment but turned out to be the 88 Field Regiment, believe it or not our sister Regiment from Preston. I was into the back of the lorry in a trifle when it suddenly jerked to a halt and I heard dive bombers. Running into the rubber trees, thinking I had escaped from the Nips only to be blown to hell, but common sense told me they would aim for the guns and not the men. This proved to be the case, looking around the gathered trucks I spied some of my Regiment so I ran over and reported my escape from the Nips. Three bren carriers set off with me showing them the way to the place of capture. The three gunners were still in the hole and looked on in amazement as we went pass, we found the building but no soldiers or whatever they had been. I was excused further duties but was never told about the how the queer situation developed that morning.
We again put our guns in a particular unusual position on a slope. At the bottom of the slope ran the main road with an old corrugated mill looking place. In a quiet moment I went to look and inside found many road repair signs, ‘MEN AT WORK, DRIVE SLOWLY, SUBSIDENCE’ and others. I got my crew to place these round the gun as a bit of a lark but it was not appreciated when the Colonel and his party decided to have a look at the gun placements. This was the only time he inspected any gun position and I rather liked the idea, silly maybe, but it made a change. He was not impressed and bellowed “What the devil is this sergeant?” and I replied it was somewhat similar to our lads in the 1914-18 war, I was grinning from ear to ear. Before this I had wondered if he had a death wish as in Kirkham he had a poster of three Tommies standing under a Union Jack, 1914-18 war vintage. Underneath it said they fought and died to the last man, a bit of General Custer. He told us he hoped his Regiment was of that spirit.
Around a week after our disagreement, which was rather one sided, he was killed. He like me had taken on a duty and not ordered a lesser rank to do it. Apparently or so rumour had it, he was not happy at the front and wanted to see for himself. A sniper must have got him, the ordinary Japanese soldier could not hit a house side if within 100 yards.
We again took up a position this time firing our guns over a solid stone built wall. We believed if shelled, this would give quite some protection. On stalked Major Gill, telling us in about fifteen minutes we would be withdrawn, going over a stone bridge just before it would be blown, and everything was ready. For some reason he only gave us minutes so we had to be sharpish. He was then gone.
Trust me to be the last gun over that bridge and the one in front of me was sluggish, I wish they would get on with it. It seemed we were going very slow but it was no good shouting at the driver as the quad and gun in front was preventing him going any faster. The bridge seemed to me to be growing in length and yet it was rather short. I do not know how far we had actually got when the bridge went up but we felt the road having a mind of its own, dancing about, with us as a dancing partner.
Later that afternoon after we made it over that bridge, Major Gill came up with “Rather glad you all made it”, turning to me and I wondered what this time. He explained that some ten miles back from our position the Engineers have been working full out to make a strong defence line right across Malaya and he had no doubt this line would stop the Nips, giving his troops the opportunity to fight back. He strode off leaving me with a good feeling, gone was the sense of loss, here was victory. I told the lads and a small cheer went up. I got the impression they just did not believe it as their their trust had been betrayed. Two days latter we were off again to a situation I did not feel was safe, how could our officers be so blind, so idiotic, but they were, if not worse.
The whole regiment were now together in a hide of rubber, this was the first time we had been together. My gun position was at the far end of the trees and I could see a wide unmade track or roadway winding uphill. In my mind I saw a great number of British Infantry marching down that hill towards us, thinking to myself that they would strengthen our position, but the trouble was it was the wrong Army, they were Japanese. I awoke with a start as there was a hell of noise, shells bursting, shouts and engines revving. I saw my quad was standing by and the Sargeant Major was yelling
“Get out MOVE IT we are under fire”.
Looking down the rubber trees I could see some falling with a burst of shells. We were on our way again, the troop guns bucking and swaying as they sped on the uneven surface, this saved the guns at Slim River.
As we had been in the trees, on the edge of the plantation, the enemy shells could not penetrate the trees and no planes followed the attack. I realised how lucky we had been, but even me, a dumb sergeant, realised the order of putting the two guns on the main road, could have stopped this attack.
For quite some time it had been rumoured that Malay natives were acting as fifth columnists. At the entrance to our hide from the road, I had noticed a native with an obvious daughter. He had a sort of pram but heavier, in this was a small coke stove and other kitchen stuff for making a meal. This could easily have been a couple of spies.
I do not know how far we retreated before one of the officers guided us again into a hide. He told us the sad news, the whole regiment apart from ourselves had been taken prisoners at Slim River, we were all saddened as rumours were spreading of what happened to men taken as prisoners being shot, all sorts of rumours were bandied about. About a week later some fifty men struggled back so all was not lost. They told us the strange story that they had just walked down the main road without any problems.
We were travelling again and this time for a change towards the enemy. I saw the leading trucks turning right into what looked an unmade cattle track. There Major Gill ordered us to stop. What nice piece of cake had he cooked for us now?
“Follow me, then pull over to the piece of waste land”
This was on our right and a small hillside at the base was a rough track. On getting out of my quad, he ordered the gun position to point at a corner of the road, bending to the right. I noticed in the trench two signallers with the telephone etc. He informed me that three guns and their crews would be trapped if the Nips came and took over this road. I knew what was coming but could only sigh, thinking what me again
“Your job is to stop that tank, it may come close to the road and give us no time to get out”
I acknowledged the order with a reply “But what if the Nips have a small company of foot soldiers following the tank, we would have nothing to defend ourselves. He agreed with a nod “I quite understand but we haven’t the time to organise ourselves anymore. Just do your best” and he was gone.
I ordered a penetrating shell to be loaded with the gun laid on the bend, ordering a gunner to stand on the corner and wave if he saw any tank movement. There was nothing I could do but wait. We had no training as to what part of a tank to hit, lower part under belly, this would stop it but his gun would still be in action. It was unfortunate but the two signallers were saying in a pitiful voices that they would like to move as tanks are expected. They received a negative reply. This had a nervous effect on my gun crew, I heard them agreeing that on the first shot we should scarper. I agreed with them, but we could not leave the gun as to a gunner his gun is sacred. With all the authority I could command I shouted at them.
“THIS AN ORDER WE WILL STAY BY THE GUN AND DO NOT RUN AWAY FROM THE ENEMY”
I know that Infantry Sergeants in certain circumstances carried a revolver but not me. Could I hold them in position following orders? It sounded like the cinema but what could I do? It was a situation not of my making then a car approached from the south, who the Hades could this be? It stopped, and in a crisp loud voice the Colonel asked what the hell we were doing with the gun alone and in the open. Colonel Holmes was dead so this must be his replacement. I must admit this officer scared me more than the enemy tank with new orders.
“Move that gun about five miles down the road”.
I told the Colonel of the guns and my orders to stop the enemy otherwise they would be trapped. He ordered me to do as he said and he would send his driver down to the guns and explain the position. I started to query his order but was stopped in my tracks by his sharp reply,
“Damn you sergeant obey that order”.
I well knew that I had no reason to disobey, if he was not my Colonel I could demand written orders but to adopt this course and he was my Colonel could make matters very serious for me, so we limbered up and went five miles as instructed. I was worried sick, had I let my troops down ? Watching the road, hoping against hope I would or troop and yes my prayers were answered, they were coming. Strangely enough nothing was ever said and the Colonel was not ours anyway.
Back in the rubber again, rumour had it that there was to be a promotion amongst to a higher rank. We had a sergeant put in our troop a Sergeant Parr. A nice enough lad who had spent his time as a Battery Clerk with no guard duties, fatigues, nothing but typing and filing. He had been on a course of Gunnery for a month and to my surprise Sergeant Parr was promoted. I took no offence towards him, but I did know that he and the Sergeant Major were very close friends, obviously a ‘ friend in court’.
I had for time on my hands wondering about a decoration. From the formation of the Regiment back in 1938 there was an Indian, sergeant Bumgara, who was a very competent and well experienced sergeant. From the very first he strongly disliked me. On my attaining a similar rank, he still was my senior, but he was not able to vent his dislike now. He was honoured by being Mentioned in Despatches for his stand at the Japanese invasion, allowing the regiment to retreat safely. He was released from his duty and back to our lines, when I took over. Was I reported and Higher Command turned me down for my actions which I am not suggesting I did anything extraordinary, but neither had he. I was beginning to think I was being most unlucky, but wait it might happen.
It was now Christmas Eve, and we were on a plain area, no rubber, just small scrubs. In the rear of our gun position was a long native hut, standing on stilts about six foot high. Looking inside it was filthy impossible to describe, underneath it was a rickety cane table and chair, I wondered how these had been put there as natives did not to my knowledge use such European articles. I was standing outside the front of this ramshackle hut when I heard a rifle shot at the same moment a bullet whizzed passed my head. Where and who fired it? There were no Nips within miles of us.
Next day was Christmas Day and we were told that as was tradition, the officers would bring our Christmas Fayre to us. They apologized for not having any tables and chairs. Mr. Smally, a small officer who I hardly knew, asked me if I wanted to go pig sticking with him. Having agreed I would regret it. Acting as his driver I drove a Chinese flat truck with side boards in large Chinese print. We set off to my surprise I was directed towards enemy lines. After travelling about four miles, he had never a spoken a word. We passed on our right side a small native village with four shops open fronted to the road which he ignored. Having driven a further two miles, I was getting uneasy. This twit would drive us straight into the enemy lines. Flying at our level was an enemy bomber and I swear the pilot was looking straight at me or the side of the truck painted in Chinese. The road dropped into a deep ravine and the enemy plane was in the ravine. Suddenly the air was rent with four explosions had the Nips bombed that innocent little village, but we carried on passing a British Ambulance burning on the side of the road, with the dead driver hanging out by his opened door.
Speaking softly I asked Mr. Smalley if we shouldn’t turn back, he looked at me grinning,
“Scared we will be in the enemy lines”
Hesitantly and rather silly as not to show him I was not afraid, I forced a grin and told him I was not afraid at that he said looking over his shoulder and he answered,
“I think I have missed the road to the pig sticking crowd, turn around”
Being quite convinced this fellow was punch drunk or something, we passed a big hole were the four shops were standing before. A few natives looked at us, they seemed bemused and unable to understand what had happened. We should have stopped but we didn’t, I felt shocked, understanding their grief and full of sympathy, but we travelled on.
Back in camp the men were sitting in a large circle and officers were walking round filling mess tins with Christmas lunch. I jumped down, this I must not miss. Running to the long hut I grabbed my eating gear and walked back ready for a really hot and good meal, the first for weeks. Sitting down at a table in the mess hut, from nowhere, the sound of a dive bomber, and before I get up or move the earth trembled with an ear-splitting explosion. The hut shook and possible tons of muck and dirt was dislodged, it fell all around. Picking myself up I looked for my Christmas Lunch but it was buried, I could have cried. Making sure the Nip planes had gone, I walked back to the temporary cook house and asked for a helping. No luck just a faint smile and a bad luck. Going away I went back in thought wondering. The first Christmas I fell down the stone steps at Brook Mill and spent Christmas Day in Military Hospital with a broken right ankle. My second Christmas on the practice range with an experimental shell and now my third Christmas covered in evil smelling muck and dirt, with no food. The following day my driver reported the quad engine was not good so I got the Battery Artificer to take a look.
The Regiment is called 137 (Army) Field Regiment, R.A. The Army suffix denoting independent not in Divisional Artillery. We were and could be called upon to take action if requested by any Colonel who wanted help. Such a situation arose that morning. The Surrey Regiment was being attacked by large numbers of Japanese. We had to limber up and move. I couldn’t as our engine was under repair. Obviously the Surreys wanted help and quick and having noticed that in a corner was an old type Fire Engine with a running board so the firemen stood on the side. I gave my driver orders to get this damn machine and we would follow with gun and limber. Sounding the fire bell, with the crew hanging on, the driver put his foot down to catch up with the troops. After the fire fight, the other gunners were laughing as number four gun set off to go back, there were no questions asked.
At Brook Mill a Major Morse had been posted to us. He was under six feet but very athletic and he arranged a field day at Kirkham Hall. I was not interested, athletics meant little to me, but in the afternoon he asked me to time the 500 yards. He had a quick method of speaking as if giving orders. He had told us that he had won in record time the 500 yards at University. He may have acquired this irritating voice mannerism at University Officer Cadet Corps, but childishly I resented and it turned to be positive dislike of him. This led me to act in a childish manner, and I was ashamed of my action. He ran the 500 yards and I took the seconds on the watch he had handed to me and I added on two seconds. He looked at me in positive amazement, crying he had never run so slow. I shook my head and added that time moves on.
In Malaya there are numerous tin mines. They have sides and about thirty foot high. On the slope down to earth a large water hose forces out the water hitting the side of the quarry which again is quite deep. One day Major Morse and two signallers were perched on the high platform, as observation and spotters for the Battery. They noticed climbing the struts Japanese soldiers. Major Morse shouted instructions to slide down and the three of them escaped sudden death. I was told of this by one of the two signallers of this remarkable escape.
The next day Major Morse and two signallers were again observation watches. Suddenly Japanese soldiers rushed them. Major Morse told them to run for their lives he would delay the enemy. So died a brave man, I had to admit worth two of me.
We had now again got into the rubber, but now in the possible centre was a large area of a native workers village, two long terraces of white houses. In the centre there was a circular stone well with about three feet of walling around it. The Sergeant Major said that a guard be mounted, as he could not trust these Indian buggars. I asked if he meant they would steal a gun, at that he said I was bloody daft, there was smaller stuff about that they would nick, so he ordered me,
“Pick your guard and I want spit and polish as always, in the ruddy jungle or not”
I went to my quad and got down from the roof all our unwanted gear we had stored there. Opening up and getting out shorts and shirt and my prize boots which I had spent hours honing and polishing. On seeing them was startled with unbelieving eyes. My precious boots were covered in fungi and white mould. Trying to brush the fungi off, I knew they were past anything. The damp unhealthy climate had won.I was now down to one pair of boots, which I was wearing. There were similar cries from my crew.
A little time before Christmas we had moved down Malaya reaching the beautiful city of Kuala Lumpa. My gun was sited near the outskirts and the city and we got our heads down. At the open air breakfast we learned that the large red brick factory building we were close to manufactured Red Circle cigarettes. We were always looking out for a packet and as we were fully aware, within the next seven days, this factory would be in enemy hands. So with optimism of hope a small group of us approached our Officer Commanding and asked if we could take some cigarettes. We received a robust ‘No’ as it would constitute looting but we envisioned within days the Nips would be smoking their heads off. Whilst we knew he was perhaps in principle right, no one on our side was stealing anything from natives or the population. This pig headiness was as usual apparent as we rode away looking back at what could have a morale lifter.
We pulled in to what looked like an English farm apart from the style of the buildings and for reasons never to be known, Sergeant Bumgara had his quad and gun driven over a typical farm pond and truly stuck in the mud. . The sergeant was urging his driver to put his foot down but although these quads were four wheel driven, in this case all four wheels were well and truly stuck. In my learning at Rescue School we had been taught what to do in similar circumstances and often wondered why gunners were not taught this as a matter of course. The quads had just under the radiator a cylinder with thick steel housing and good drive and the trick was simple. Get the tow set at 45 degrees and in the centre find a lamp post or some strong post, In our case a tow line was through a ring of a gate post at both ends, giving a good purchase. When the two vehicles were attached to the line, I gave the order to free standing quads to engage. The gun and ammunition carriage being disengaged. It was seen the quad came out as easy as toothpaste. Bumgara gave no thanks, and I didn’t expect him to.
We were some twenty miles from the Island of Singapore, and were told there was sufficient stored food for twenty years, bristling with guns and plenty of ammunition. We didn’t know how many troops were there but surely there would be enough, but we did not believe the enemy could ever set foot on the island. We were quite happy and confident just like our fathers in 1914. I must agree we had lost a lot of faith in our Generals but on the island even they couldn’t muck it up. However, we were not aware that the big essential guns, actually large Naval Guns, could not turn to the Mainland. It was about this time one of our officers gave us the assurance that the Japanese could only move small calibre artillery which did not have any distance. One wag of gunner said,
“What’s these coming over, Wasps”
A very heavy barrage was just about to rain down on us. That evening I asked someone to change places with me, so instead of sitting next to the driver I had moved as far back as possible. Comfort didn’t matter, I just sat legs outstretched and I neither wanted to talk or listen. Sweat was pouring out of me, yet I was shivering, so much I thought I was shaking the quad. I think I lapsed into a sort of coma, just blackness, I heard not a sound, nothing. I don’t know how long I was in this total silence until but I heard voices and someone shaking me. I opened an eye and I think I must have said something as the shaking and shouting woke me up. I listened but only half heard,
“We’ve got a puncture sarge, come and look”
I was thinking so what. They must have thought I was drunk or something as they hauled me out. Trying to stand, swaying and telling them to take the bloody wheel off, throw it away and put on the spare so we could catch up with the others. I staggered back to my nest and went back to the coma. When I awoke and the sun was shining and I felt as though I’d had four times normal flu, I just could not stop shivering and with cold, oh for my great coat. The Sergeant Major was bending over me asking what the problem was, being without breakfast and absent on Roll Call.
Asking for the M.O feeling I just could not carry on. At that I heard I could not go sick as the Regiment was short handed. I again blacked out. I could not blame the B.S.M. as I might have been his first sight of malaria but he told me I would have to walk back about two miles as there was a shortage of transport.
I well remember hearing him say ‘two miles’. From early times as a boy remember my father telling me to use a bit of William lad and you can do anything, the expression ‘William’ being Will Power. In some strange way this gave me some hidden power and I set off swaying and stumbling back the two miles.
I arrived at a tent waving a flag also noticing a ‘Casualty First Aid’ sign. Flopping down exhausted on a form, there was no one about. I remember thinking or if not saying allowed, “Oh come on, see to me, I’m finished”. A very young M.O. appeared and looked me over telling me I had good old British flu, and a chitty for two days rest. I looked in absolute astonishment at this medical officer, in rising temper although that took some doing. I explained that it was worse than just flu, it was more, I told him to look me over as I could not stop shivering and seem to lose consciousness, with very little strength. He ‘Hm’ and ;’Hm’ again but he did take my temperature, with a result is was very high. Telling me to go back to my unit and he would send an ambulance as soon as possible.
How I got back I will never know, but I did and just lay down on the ground, impossible to move or hear what was being said. I heard afterwards it was with reluctance the guns moved on leaving me, well knowing the ambulance was soon to arrive. I remember being put in a wheelchair and lifted outside, I remember the nurse telling me I had a bad case of malaria and one step would be enough to give you a heart attack. I managed a grin thinking one step and I had just walked four miles there and back.
The hospital was quiet, my ward being filled with soldiers, one or two asking what was happening in the war. I remember saying slowly, and why I don’t know, that my troop have had several artillery duels on our way back to Singapore. With this uplifting but still lies information but they took no notice. I found myself in pyjamas, clean sheets. A little later a nurse came along telling me I was too late for an evening meal, with a smile I replied that I was not hungry, but she appeared within minutes with the biggest apricot ice cream I’d ever tasted. Even in my near delirious condition this tasted marvellous. I hope she comes again and again with the same. I must have been delirious.
After a quiet but restful sleep I was woken up with a low voice shouting, “Get up those who can and get dressed, others listen. The Nips have broken through we must evacuate in the hour to Singapore be ready”
Oh blimey, just when I was looking forward to a sort of heaven. I don’t remember that journey except being carried out and I saw we were climbing I don’t know how many steps, but it was steep and high. Almost at the top, two soldiers carried a man on a stretcher, one must have looked at the man’s label at the top giving details of his condition, and to my surprise, even though a bit dim, the stretcher bearer was shouting as they overturned the stretcher sending the patient crashing to the floor,
“You miserable bloody sod you’re down as walking sick and we’ve carried you up all these bloody steps”.
This hospital was very second rate to the other, the nurses having little time to listen, living on a hope. The hospital must have been just short of the wide water between Malaya and Singapore Island. I was on quinine, the taste was abominable, stinking rot gut but with orders to stop pulling a face and get it down, I managed to swallow it. In about three or four days later we were moving again. Had the Nips got onto the Island, no one seemed to know or wanted us to know. This time we were in a girls’ school, nurses seemed to be in short supply, but I was gaining strength and that was all that mattered.
I still did not like using the bedpan, the simple request to ask a nurse for it filled me with embarrassment. I was on the first floor and decided I would try and find the lavatories as a school there must be some. I was still very weak but determined. Finding myself in a large garden I walked down a long paved walk and found a lavatory there. On returning, at the foot of the stairs was a burly sergeant major in uniform with a big red face which was rather frightening, specially as I was not supposed to be out of bed. There was no way other than pass him. He was wearing a bush hat Australian style with turned up sides,
“Hello there, who is this” he asked
“Sargeant Waterhouse, I’m a patient here”
“You look as though a pint of the best would help you, come on to the Sergeant’s mess, Royal Signals”.
We entered a long wooden single floor hut with a bar at the far end or what was it supposed to be, with two up turned barrels and a thick plank across. Behind it shelves with bottles and spirits. It gave me the impression of a bar of the Far West and Cowboys in the cinema. Around I should think twenty sergeants all wearing this Aussie headgear, and it seemed everyone wanted to buy me a beer. They were of the opinion the enemy would be here on the Island within at least a month and without any shame they all agreed that General Percival had no bloody idea hence we were in a pickle. Having drunk my pint another was offered. They were without exception enjoying themselves, the atmosphere was catching and I felt myself joining in and forgetting I was still a sick man. I suddenly felt a bit faint and without even saying goodbye I went back to my bed. The feeling of their friendship was a set up to me, unfortunately not for long. We were again moving, the Nips were certainly gaining everywhere and the wounded with others were in the dark as to how long we had.
The next hospital was in fact a Sunday School with about forty men, many in different stages of recovery from wounds. One I talked to was young RAF crew member, he told me he was on patrol duty over the Indian Ocean in a Flying boat. After the Japanese entered the war, nor he or his mates had not seen or heard anything of the Japanese, either in the air or the sea, until they were unexpectedly fired on by a Japanese plane. He admitted the crew were looking downwards at the ocean. Being shot down was too unexpected, there plane was on fire, and he suffered burns, the bandages could be seen to prove that it was bad.
After about the three days the Curate, a youngish chap, who I felt was quite incapable of giving us any help at all, approached me as I was hobbling around, trying to get used to a walking stick.
“Sergeant, you are the senior officer here and we are evacuating all the sick including those not expected to live. From my information there will be only army wagons, these are not ambulances. From my counting there will be some which we cannot take owing to the numbers”
In thought I could not get the poor devils out of my mind, they would be left to the enemy, will they be cared for as we had heard all sorts of things happening, from burning to bayoneting and shooting. Something suddenly hit me like a wet towel and the thrower, being the Curate, was suggesting that I stay with the wounded and be taken prisoner. He could not order me to stay when the hospital was evacuated, yet he somehow got to know. The men were asking me to stay with them, I just stood there, what should I do, my reasoning told me get with the first lot, these poor devils were not my concern. I looked down at the rows of the wounded, some serious, the look in their eyes was like a wounded dog. Could I just creep away they would never know, but no, I must stay and take my luck with them. Leaving them to their fate, no one will ever know except me and I could not live with that. This Curate had me in a vice, I was certainly no hero and the situation was not of my making, it was pure bad luck I and the wounded had come here, but I knew I had to stay.
The two lorries were now outside and in a hurry to get the wounded loaded. Their information was the Japanese were in firing range. The curate was advising who should go, the more serious first and then fill up the lorries with as many as possible. I was left with ten badly wounded as I watched the tailboard of the last army truck fast disappearing.
I was in a state of disbelief, like reading a book about this with a stiff upper lip I read on:-
The sergeant now goes back into the now empty hall and he cheerfully went to the frightened men and tells them “OK my men, the curate and I will see you treated as Prisoners of War”.
I’m afraid its not like that. I was thinking what a mess, what a mess. This was the cold side and not the excitement of war. How could I stand in front of the Japanese, I had not even seen one, was this how a man facing hanging feels. I could have started running, just anywhere but I could not look at the faces of the seriously wounded or dying men. Then I heard the sound of a vehicle approaching, was this it and I and the men were at the enemies mercy. To my eternal surprise I heard an English voice, perhaps Cockney
“Anyone ‘ere want a lift, been sent to collect, a bit of change from rations”
I firmly believe I could have kissed him.
We crossed over the causeway, from the mainland to the Island. I felt a sense of comfort feeling the distance between to the two landfalls, Surely no one could cross without being seen and in this case sunk or attacked.
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