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1995
Eastern Daily Press
Part 2
Confused and betrayed, hardened soldiers wept
Sacrificed: In the weeks following the fall of Singapore the pages of the local press were filled with pictures of men posted “missing”. Above is just one example.
The consequences of the fall of Singapore in February, 1942, were to be felt in almost every Norfolk community. In part two of our investigation into the sacrifice of thousands of East Anglian soldiers 53 years ago, STEVE SNELLING looks at the fall of the island, the biggest defeat Britain suffered during the second world war.
Time was rapidly running out for Singapore. By the close of January, 1942, Malaya was lost and only a thin stretch of water separated the triumphant Japanese army from its ultimate prize.
Yert, as the battle-weary remnants of the 53rd Brigade straggled back on to the island in the aftermath of their nightmare struggle in northern Jahore, they were astonished to discover that preparations to resist the inevitable invasion had scarcely begun.
The shocking realisation of the island’s vulnerability, however, was only fully brought home to the east Anglian units four days later when, having rested and re-equipped, they were ordered to man a stretch of the north-eastern coast.
Instead of marching into fortified positions complete with minefields, machine gun bunkers and wired-in trenches, they were told to construct their own defences. According to Major Arthur Stacy, of the 6th Royal Norfolks, work had begun on January 25 and “very little had been done” in his unit’s sector.
Senior British commanders had refused to countenance building such defences any earlier for fear of sapping civilian morale. “In fact,” Major Robert Hamond, of the 5th Royal Norfolks, recorded. “it had the reverse effect..... as the many who had to occupy positions later on the island found them without any sort of preparation.”
To the outside world, Singapore was still being hailed as a stoutly defended citadel, surrounded by what Churchill called a “splendid moat.” To the men on the ground, dodging the daily aerial bombardments, there was no disguising the appalling sham.
And the 18th East Anglian Division, the only entirely British force in the island garrison, would soon pay the price for this grand delusion.
Having spent 17 days in India, the bulk of the division arrived in Singapore on January 29, unaware that they were being used as political pawns against the wishes of the Allies’ senior commander in South-East Asia. Some divisional units did not reach the island until a week later.
By then, Singapore had begun its ignominious descent into anarchy and chaos. East Anglian troops stepping off their troopships found the docks clogged with traffic. “Civilians, mostly women were getting out on the ships we were unloading. They just drove their cars to the docks and got on to any ship available ..... As daylight came and the ships had all gone out, the road outside the docks was littered with abandoned cars,” recorded Captain John Barratt of the 4th Royal Norfolks.
There were already reports of looting and deserters roaming the town, but most dispiriting for the new arrivals were the relentless air attacks. Len Reeve, a Royal Engineer, landed in the midst of one such raid, and over the next few days he noted disconsolately in his diary: “Island now being shelled, mortared and bombed night and day. No RAF planes. We had one single aircraft, Japanese .... dive-bombed at their hearts content ..... there was no hope of another Dunkirk.”
The young Norwich sapper was, however, luckier than some of his comrades aboard the Empress of Asia. The big transport was struck by bombs as she approached the harbour and thousands of men were compelled to abandon ship.
Most were rescued, but they arrived in Singapore with little more than the clothes they were wearing.. All the guns, equipment and vehicles bound for the 18th Division were lost. It was yet another wretched piece of misfortune to befall the luckless East Anglians.
No one could pretend that the outlook for the Singapore defenders was anything than b leak. And yet, as the days passed without the Japanese attempting to cross the Staits, there was, in some quarters, a discernible lift in morale.
This was most noticeable among the units of the 18th Division, who had been busily building and improving the defences on the north-east and east of the island. Major Hamond, who commanded a composite force in the Naval base area, later recalled: “We felt that if the Jap came across the Straits we could give him a real hammering.”
On paper, at least, the defenders appeared to hold the upper hand. The arrival of the 18th Division brought the garrison’s strength to more than 100,000 men, giving them a numerical superiority over the Japanese.
But as with so much to do with Singapore, the advantage was illusory. The British had few serviceable aircraft, even fewer tanks and the majority of the new arrivals were far from combat ready. The 18th Division had no time to “shake down” after their three-month odyssey, while thousands of reinforcements for the sorely-depleted Australian and Indian forces were raw recruits.
The blunder which allowed so many untrained men to be despatched to Singapore was compounded by the island commander’s decision to place them on the western coast where the Japanese attack was widely expected. When the blow fell on the night 8-9, the magnitude of this misjudgement was revealed within hours.
Far from giving the Japanese a hammering, the Australian defence disintegrated into a full-scale retreat which rapidly dissolved into panic. Within 24 hours, the Japanese were pouring through a huge gap towards the centre of the island. Their advance completely unhinged the positions on the east coast where the defenders, including the East Anglians from the 18th Division , were forced to leave the posts they had toiled so hard to construct in order to meet the threat behind them.
The effect on morale was clear. The War Diarist of the 6th Royal Norfolks noted that there was “extreme disappointment that we had laboured in vain and were to have no chance of proving the impregnability of our position or even firing a round in its defence.”
It was a widely held view among the men of the 53rd Brigade who foresaw a repeat of the Malayan fiasco. Major Hamond, of the 5th Royal Norfolks, wrote how the men’s moral dropped as they were forced to fight in difficult island country again.
“We .... went back to the dreary rubber (plantations) again ... With hindsight I should preferred to have stayed there until the surrender, even if cut off, because we could have defended the position from the landward side nearly as well as from the sea. In doing so we might have killed more Japs and sustained less casualties ourselves than we idi eventually.”
As they headed away from the coast towards the island’s vital reservoirs, the news reaching them was confused.
A few weeks later, Major Stacey of the 6th Royal Norfolks wrote: “We were told, rightly or wrongly, that the Australians had failed to occupy the coast in their area, and that most of their troops were stationed on or near the road a mile or so inland. After the Japs had obtained a sure footing we began to receive numerous accounts of Australian troops rioting in the town.”
Sadly, these alarming stories were all too true, and the men of the 18th Division soon had the evidence of their own eyes to support them. Lieut. Colonel Alfred Knights’ 4th Royal Norfolks were sent as part of a hastily organised force to stem the Japanese tidal wave.
In an unpublished account, he later wrote: “The advance had not proceeded far when numbers of Australian troops were encountered apparently withdrawing from forward positions .... I ordered the men to remain where they were and render assistance to my Battalion but as they maintained that they were already acting under the orders of their own commander my interference was in vain.”
Among the Norfolks moving forward against the increasing flow of fugitives was Captain Tom Eaton. He recalled: “As we passed the Australians they were calling us ‘damned fools’ to be going up there.”
These were clearly not isolated incidents. On February 10, a staff officer, accompanying General Wavell to a crisis conference on the island, “passed groups of Australian troops streaming towards the harbour, shouting that the fighting was over and they were clearing out.”
In the dock area, the situation was even worse with parties of deserters commandeering boats at gunpoint to escape. Major Stacy was one of a number of officers and men ordered to form official escape parties. When they reached the port, they found nothing but chaos.
Stacy wrote: “We came cross numerous parties of Australians, most of whom had discarded their weapons and equipment, who were appropriating every available boat and expressing their intentions to leave without orders.”
It was the impact of such widespread disaffection and indiscipline on his own men that chiefly concerned Lieut. Colonel Knights. But he noted with evident pride that “none of the troops were ‘caught up’ in the Australian withdrawal.
In fact, his battalion, along with a number of units, helped slow the Japanese advance, and there were numerous examples of great bravery - not least on the final day when a desperate counter attack was ordered to recapture vital lost ground.
Colonel Knights recorded: “No artillery support could be asked for, or given, as it would have involved casualties amongst our troops as well as the enemy but with the aid of hand grenades the enemy was dislodged although it was pathetic to note troops moving forward in a dazed and half a sleep condition against enemy machine-guns positions....”
Tragically. such actions, carried out at such heavy cost, were all in vain. A few hours later, word reached the forward units that a surrender was being negotiated. By late afternoon, the struggle for Singapore was over.
For the East Anglian units, many of which were still operating as disciplined forces, the shock was intense. “We were staggered, “ recalled Fred Eva. “I just threw my rifle down in disgust, and wondered what it had all been for. There were some soldiers among us, men who had served in India, and they were crying. They just couldn’t believe it.”
It was not long before feelings of bitterness and betrayal took over. An army of more than 100,000 men had been defeated by a force of around 80,000 strong. “We felt we’d been sold out, “ recalled Charlie Marr, a private in the 6th Royal Norfolks.
Singapore had been expected to hold out for months. It had fallen in seven days. The recriminations and the cover-up would last for years to come.
Tomorrow: Who was to blame
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