VJ Day Commemoration
Very proud of my late father on VJ Day because he won the Second World War. The RAF sent him to the Far East and the Japanese surrendered three days after his arrival. However, they kept him out there for another 18 months just in case.
Spare a thought today for all those who remained in the Far East long after VJ Day, especially those who never returned.
Spare a thought today for all those who remained in the Far East long after VJ Day, especially those who never returned.
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70 years ago, because of the atom bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, my father, a POW of the Japanese, learned that he would live to see his family. We met for the first time on my 4th birthday in October 1945.
There's an aspect of all this of which I must admit I was not aware until comparatively recently. On 7 May 1945, as the war with Germany ended, all of the assets of 4 Group, Bomber Command, were transferred to Transport Command for service in the Far East. By late 1944, it had been agreed in London that, once the war in Europe was won, Mountbatten's forces in India would be reinforced for an invasion of Burma. So, from May 45, crews who had been flying bomber missions began to re-train on the Dakota and to learn the arts of transport support flying.
The capitulation of the Japanese in August 1945 changed things, and the focus shifted to increasing transport resources for repatriation. The crews of 10 Sqn, for example, returned from a spell of Embarkation Leave to hear of the change in plans. The move to India began in early September with, it seems, congestion at staging posts causing a number of varied routes to be flown. 10 Sqn was sent to Poona and was mainly involved in flying repat sorties from the east coast to Karachi, a task that began to wane somewhat by early-1946. In mid-March the Sqn was detached to Burma to carry out food relief drops to Kachin hill villages that had destroyed their rice supplies to prevent these falling into Japanese hands. The terrain was challenging, to say the least, and the Sqn lost 3 crews in the hills on 29 March 1946.
Using personnel signed-up for wartime service to repatriate others caused difficulties in January 1946. Men became concerned that the best jobs back home would be taken by those they were processing to the UK, and a strike of sorts occurred over a few days at a number of bases in India - though it appears that services were maintained. That apart, my understanding is that men went home on due dates, in accordance with the rules of the time.
Squadrons were retained in-theatre until the partition of India and did sterllng work in the movement of Hindi and Muslim people in the weeks beforehand, and in the training of Indian and Pakistani crews for what lay ahead - very much another story.
The capitulation of the Japanese in August 1945 changed things, and the focus shifted to increasing transport resources for repatriation. The crews of 10 Sqn, for example, returned from a spell of Embarkation Leave to hear of the change in plans. The move to India began in early September with, it seems, congestion at staging posts causing a number of varied routes to be flown. 10 Sqn was sent to Poona and was mainly involved in flying repat sorties from the east coast to Karachi, a task that began to wane somewhat by early-1946. In mid-March the Sqn was detached to Burma to carry out food relief drops to Kachin hill villages that had destroyed their rice supplies to prevent these falling into Japanese hands. The terrain was challenging, to say the least, and the Sqn lost 3 crews in the hills on 29 March 1946.
Using personnel signed-up for wartime service to repatriate others caused difficulties in January 1946. Men became concerned that the best jobs back home would be taken by those they were processing to the UK, and a strike of sorts occurred over a few days at a number of bases in India - though it appears that services were maintained. That apart, my understanding is that men went home on due dates, in accordance with the rules of the time.
Squadrons were retained in-theatre until the partition of India and did sterllng work in the movement of Hindi and Muslim people in the weeks beforehand, and in the training of Indian and Pakistani crews for what lay ahead - very much another story.
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Today (with much dust around) I recall a guy, Fred Rackstraw, not an airman but a L/Cpl R Sigs, a friend of my parents. Fred had been captured at Singapore and was on the Burma Railway, much of the time doing a secondary duty as a medical orderly. When I knew him his health was pretty bad as a result, but I never heard him complain. As a youngster he was a good friend to me, and I believe in retrospect had much to do with my parents not opposing my aviation, RAF and Towers ambitions. Fred died some years back, but I just found an nn-line In Memoriam to him. Bless you Fred, and all those who came back, and those that did not.
I wonder whats happening in Russia today? Post war the Soviets issued a Victory over Japan medal, complete with portrait of Stalin. This to commemorate their whole 36 hours of hostilities against Japan, having declared war on them two days before their capitulation and post the events in Hiroshima and Nagasaki!
Some harrowing tales in this morning's interviews. One former Chindit told how he knelt and quietly talked to a severely wounded comrade as they were withdrawing from a patrol behind enemy lines, and then shot him in the head, rather than leave him to the tender mercies of the Japanese. What a burden to have to carry for the rest of your life, and what a debt we owe these men.
Some harrowing tales in this morning's interviews. One former Chindit told how he knelt and quietly talked to a severely wounded comrade as they were withdrawing from a patrol behind enemy lines, and then shot him in the head, rather than leave him to the tender mercies of the Japanese. What a burden to have to carry for the rest of your life, and what a debt we owe these men.
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ICM, a friend of mine was a ch tech in Ceylon as I recall.
Apparently it was not a strike or a mutiny where they were. A new adjutant was posted in and set about restoring order and discipline, little things like wearing berets, smart uniform, a daily parade before start work, all good military things designed to improve morale and spirit de corps.
The chaps didn't parade but went directly to work. Naturally word of this spread to AHQ and VSO arrived, had a locked door interview with the troops, order was restored and the adjutant was posted.
Shades of our OC Admin in ASI in 1984, headdress will be worn, only the sqn ldrs and the gp capt did.
Apparently it was not a strike or a mutiny where they were. A new adjutant was posted in and set about restoring order and discipline, little things like wearing berets, smart uniform, a daily parade before start work, all good military things designed to improve morale and spirit de corps.
The chaps didn't parade but went directly to work. Naturally word of this spread to AHQ and VSO arrived, had a locked door interview with the troops, order was restored and the adjutant was posted.
Shades of our OC Admin in ASI in 1984, headdress will be worn, only the sqn ldrs and the gp capt did.
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
FODPLOD, my old man, merchant navy, was preparing to sail before VJ day. In the event he sailed on 23rd and returned in 1947. Apart from bringing home the saloon carpet that had been issued to his ship before she was scrapped, I have no idea what he did while away. He replaced the carpet in 1964.
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My old English teacher Vic Prooth was an infantry officer in Burma during the war. Some of the tales he told us were toe curling. We were in class with him when news came through that Bill Slim had died, it would have been 1970, and he was visibly moved.
He took us to Stratford to see every Shakespeare play they performed during my two years with him, I didn't appreciate it at the time but I do now. Vic died recently, he was a great guy and a damn good teacher.
He took us to Stratford to see every Shakespeare play they performed during my two years with him, I didn't appreciate it at the time but I do now. Vic died recently, he was a great guy and a damn good teacher.
Thinking of a dad I never knew, though who did see his newly born son before embarking for the long one-way voyage to the Far East with his TA LAA Battery. They were turned away from an about-to-fall Singapore, then on the run in Java, until captured by the Japanese. He made it through over three years of captivity before succumbing to the treatment, four months before VJ-day. Now buried in a peaceful CWGC cemetery at Yokohama.
It was moving that those who survived and marched today said that it was to remember those who didn't, like dad.
It was moving that those who survived and marched today said that it was to remember those who didn't, like dad.
Last edited by Chugalug2; 15th Aug 2015 at 15:45.
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I was there......
I was a WAAF wireless op in Colombo, Ceylon. We were allowed two passes out until 2230 and two until 2259 per week when not on duty and only for approved functions and destinations We were well chaperoned!
If I remember correctly, we heard about the Nagasaki bombing the day afterwards on 10 August. All vehicle sirens let loose and church bells rang out. We thought as the war is over we could stay out until midnight. However, they were waiting for us in the guardroom. For this crime, we received four days jankers. We were released in time for the celebrations. On the 25th we marched in the Victory Parade with Lord Louis taking the salute.
I have the pictures.
A Daughter Writes..........
The RN does things rather differently of course. Father had recently returned from a trip up the Irrawaddy on a MGB. On VJ Day the Governor was back in his Rangoon Residence and party invitations were issued to all officers. 'Would you like some gin?' Mad majors, tanks driven up the Residency drive and general mayhem ensued.
Selfishly, I am pleased there was no 'straight home' in 1945 as my parents did not meet until the following year in Singapore. As my parents say today.....we were just kids!
If I remember correctly, we heard about the Nagasaki bombing the day afterwards on 10 August. All vehicle sirens let loose and church bells rang out. We thought as the war is over we could stay out until midnight. However, they were waiting for us in the guardroom. For this crime, we received four days jankers. We were released in time for the celebrations. On the 25th we marched in the Victory Parade with Lord Louis taking the salute.
I have the pictures.
A Daughter Writes..........
The RN does things rather differently of course. Father had recently returned from a trip up the Irrawaddy on a MGB. On VJ Day the Governor was back in his Rangoon Residence and party invitations were issued to all officers. 'Would you like some gin?' Mad majors, tanks driven up the Residency drive and general mayhem ensued.
Selfishly, I am pleased there was no 'straight home' in 1945 as my parents did not meet until the following year in Singapore. As my parents say today.....we were just kids!
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Chug, there by the grace of God. My father was torpedoed, recovered to Java, and as a non-combatant male civilian he had no priority for evacuation. He and a fellow officer managed to get on a ship to Australia. Had he not done so I would not be here.
As a merchant seaman he had to work his own passage to UK. I know the ship but not the route home.
As a merchant seaman he had to work his own passage to UK. I know the ship but not the route home.
Wander00 and Pontious, thanks for the kind words, I appreciate them. I too will be raising a glass tonight, not only to Dad, but to the more than 12,000 other POW's who died under Japanese "care".
We Will Remember Them.
We Will Remember Them.
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For a variety of reasons I came late to the laptop today, have just read through the moving entries so far, and feel very fortunate and humble. For I was one of those who Came Back - many did not.
First let me congratulate Wander00 for opening his Thread with the haunting words of the Kohima Epitaph, nothing else could have been more fitting.
The Battles of Imphal and Kohima started in early'44. My Squadron (110) moved up to Khumbirgram in Assam in mid-October'43: we were operating over the Naga "hills" (some of which run up to 10,000+ ft), and may well have overflown Kohima and Imphal several times on our sorties to the Chindwin river area - but of course, they weren't as famous then as they were going to be very soon.
At the end of the year, the RAF Vengeance Squadrons had to provide a "transfusion" of operational crews to form a complete RAF Flight to bring 8 Squadron (IAF) up to strength and into action. "Stew" Mobsby and I were one of the "lucky" ones. So we had to leave Assam, for 8 Sqdn were destined for the Arakan (300+ miles to the South). In this way we missed the action at Imphal and Kohima, but were busy with our own battle.
I can add footnotes to many of the Posts so far - specifically:
FODPlod (#2),
Once they got to India, all the passenger space on the ship that brought them out would have been immediately crammed with troops whose "demob numbers" were coming up, and with others who'd done their 3-year stint out there, and naturally thought they had priority over the new arrivals.
These then had to "wait their turn" (and in some cases this was a long time). I was affected in this way: many aircrew officer "reinforcements" were stuck in Bombay "on the beach". At my little unit 400 miles down south, the Army could provide any number of tents with pleasant sea views, a good Mess, all facilities and I could even give them a bit of flying.
(VV "conversion": show him the cockpit in the morning, take him for a ride in the back in the afternoon [he had a plug-in stick, rudder bar and a throttle, but nothing else], let him play with it for a bit to get the feel of it, then I would take it back and land). Voilą - a Vengeance pilot ! ("It's all yours now, mate").
I then farmed out all my routine office work on to these supernumeraries, so it was a satisfactory arrangement all round.
Clockwork Mouse (#4),
Thankfully, I never had to endure the horrors of WWII Japanese imprisonment, but we knew all about it. One photograph sticks bright in my memory. A captured RAF Sgt Pilot, blindfold, kneels in quiet resignation as a Japanese officer, sword in hand, "addresses" his captive's neck as a golfer might "address" a ball with his driver.
It was thought at the time that this photograph was a Japanese "plant" (to destroy morale - but it had the opposite effect). But independent witness from later (ex) prisoners who had been present confirmed the fact of the execution.
ICM (#5),
Your: "my understanding is that men went home on due dates, in accordance with the rules of the time".
Considering that it had been "sprung" on us so unexpectedly, most people at the time thought that the "Demob Scheme" worked as well as could have been expected in the circumstances.
Of course, all forms of transport had to be mobilised for the task of bringing back the troops from abroad, with priority given to former Japanese prisoners.
Tankertrashnav (#7),
I would have consoled your Chindit with the assurance that his friend appreciated this last act of kindness and would have thanked him for it, if he could. Your man had nothing on his conscience, and the best thing to do was to forget it - if he could.
Chugalug (#11) and others,
I can only commiserate with you on a loss which you had to share with many, and no doubt you must often have thought, down the years, of the "what might have beens, if" which came to your mind.
Now I shall raise a glass to the dead of all wars (Requiescant in Pace), to their sad and grieving families and to all those still living who wear the Burma Star.
Truly: We Will Remember Them.
Danny.
First let me congratulate Wander00 for opening his Thread with the haunting words of the Kohima Epitaph, nothing else could have been more fitting.
The Battles of Imphal and Kohima started in early'44. My Squadron (110) moved up to Khumbirgram in Assam in mid-October'43: we were operating over the Naga "hills" (some of which run up to 10,000+ ft), and may well have overflown Kohima and Imphal several times on our sorties to the Chindwin river area - but of course, they weren't as famous then as they were going to be very soon.
At the end of the year, the RAF Vengeance Squadrons had to provide a "transfusion" of operational crews to form a complete RAF Flight to bring 8 Squadron (IAF) up to strength and into action. "Stew" Mobsby and I were one of the "lucky" ones. So we had to leave Assam, for 8 Sqdn were destined for the Arakan (300+ miles to the South). In this way we missed the action at Imphal and Kohima, but were busy with our own battle.
I can add footnotes to many of the Posts so far - specifically:
FODPlod (#2),
Once they got to India, all the passenger space on the ship that brought them out would have been immediately crammed with troops whose "demob numbers" were coming up, and with others who'd done their 3-year stint out there, and naturally thought they had priority over the new arrivals.
These then had to "wait their turn" (and in some cases this was a long time). I was affected in this way: many aircrew officer "reinforcements" were stuck in Bombay "on the beach". At my little unit 400 miles down south, the Army could provide any number of tents with pleasant sea views, a good Mess, all facilities and I could even give them a bit of flying.
(VV "conversion": show him the cockpit in the morning, take him for a ride in the back in the afternoon [he had a plug-in stick, rudder bar and a throttle, but nothing else], let him play with it for a bit to get the feel of it, then I would take it back and land). Voilą - a Vengeance pilot ! ("It's all yours now, mate").
I then farmed out all my routine office work on to these supernumeraries, so it was a satisfactory arrangement all round.
Clockwork Mouse (#4),
Thankfully, I never had to endure the horrors of WWII Japanese imprisonment, but we knew all about it. One photograph sticks bright in my memory. A captured RAF Sgt Pilot, blindfold, kneels in quiet resignation as a Japanese officer, sword in hand, "addresses" his captive's neck as a golfer might "address" a ball with his driver.
It was thought at the time that this photograph was a Japanese "plant" (to destroy morale - but it had the opposite effect). But independent witness from later (ex) prisoners who had been present confirmed the fact of the execution.
ICM (#5),
Your: "my understanding is that men went home on due dates, in accordance with the rules of the time".
Considering that it had been "sprung" on us so unexpectedly, most people at the time thought that the "Demob Scheme" worked as well as could have been expected in the circumstances.
Of course, all forms of transport had to be mobilised for the task of bringing back the troops from abroad, with priority given to former Japanese prisoners.
Tankertrashnav (#7),
I would have consoled your Chindit with the assurance that his friend appreciated this last act of kindness and would have thanked him for it, if he could. Your man had nothing on his conscience, and the best thing to do was to forget it - if he could.
Chugalug (#11) and others,
I can only commiserate with you on a loss which you had to share with many, and no doubt you must often have thought, down the years, of the "what might have beens, if" which came to your mind.
Now I shall raise a glass to the dead of all wars (Requiescant in Pace), to their sad and grieving families and to all those still living who wear the Burma Star.
Truly: We Will Remember Them.
Danny.
Last edited by Danny42C; 15th Aug 2015 at 22:35. Reason: Typo.
Wwwop - very interested to read your thread. Along with Danny, it is good to hear from those of the same generation as the people we are talking about. You are quite right Danny, he had nothing at all to reproach himself for, but I am sure it was something he would never be able to forget.
Just a small point of pedantry, which may not be entirely appropriate here, but Danny is raising a glass to all who wear the Burma Star. In addition, the very large number of POWs who were taken at the fall of Singapore were subsequently awarded the Pacific Star, often posthumously of course.
Just a small point of pedantry, which may not be entirely appropriate here, but Danny is raising a glass to all who wear the Burma Star. In addition, the very large number of POWs who were taken at the fall of Singapore were subsequently awarded the Pacific Star, often posthumously of course.
Chug
I didn't have time to 'Prune' yesterday, just having a look now. I shouldn't have left the door open as so much dust has blown in - Robin your post really moved me, at least my Dad came back from being a POW having been captured in Tunisia - he did die relatively early aged 51 ( when we were on 30 at Fairford ) and I didn't find out until after his death that he had been discharged from the army as medically unfit due to a kidney infection he picked up in an Italian POW camp.
TTN
I've read quite a lot about the war in the east, particularly the Burma campaign and John Masters in his book,'The road to Mandalay', mentions that when he was acting CO of a Chindit brigade he had to order the 'putting out of their misery' of some dozen or so seriously wounded men who could not be moved when the brigade left their position.
Another very good read is 'Quartered safe out here' by George MacDonald Fraser (the author of the Flashman books ).
I have by my bed, 'War in the Wilderness', by Tony Redding, whose father was a Chindit. He collected personal stories from many Chindits and published his book in 2011.
ICM
The aviation artist, Ron Homes, was one of those very men you describe - after his 30 op' tour as a Lancaster pilot in Bomber Command, he was posted east to Dakotas with I think 62 Sqn.
I have a vague memory of a neighbour in the early 1960s who had been a prisoner of the Japanese and then served in the Korean War and was captured again!
TTN
I've read quite a lot about the war in the east, particularly the Burma campaign and John Masters in his book,'The road to Mandalay', mentions that when he was acting CO of a Chindit brigade he had to order the 'putting out of their misery' of some dozen or so seriously wounded men who could not be moved when the brigade left their position.
Another very good read is 'Quartered safe out here' by George MacDonald Fraser (the author of the Flashman books ).
I have by my bed, 'War in the Wilderness', by Tony Redding, whose father was a Chindit. He collected personal stories from many Chindits and published his book in 2011.
ICM
The aviation artist, Ron Homes, was one of those very men you describe - after his 30 op' tour as a Lancaster pilot in Bomber Command, he was posted east to Dakotas with I think 62 Sqn.
I have a vague memory of a neighbour in the early 1960s who had been a prisoner of the Japanese and then served in the Korean War and was captured again!
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Using personnel signed-up for wartime service to repatriate others caused difficulties
Mutiny in the RAF - Chapter 1
The name of the web site indicates that the opinion may be, as Max Boyce would say, 'Slightly biased'. But worth a read.
My brother in law, now 90+, was in Burma in the infantry, in the Green Howard's. He doesn't talk about it. But I get the impression it was horrible.
I have the greatest admiration for all that went through it and commiserations for the families of those that didn't come back.
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I think some of today's generation may find this piece of family history educational. My father was a civilian doctor in Malaya and was called up as an MO when the Japs invaded.
RECOLLECTIONS OF LIFE AS A POW OF THE JAPANESE
This is the transcript of a letter which my father wrote by hand in 1986 to James Bradley, the author of “Towards the Setting Sun”, an account of Bradley’s wartime experiences as a POW and in particular of his escape, subsequent recapture and treatment by the Japanese. Jim Bradley escaped from Songkurai Camp on the Burma-Siam Railway in 1943 with 9 other British and Indian soldiers. Five died in the jungle and the survivors were recaptured. Bradley was tortured but, amazingly, was not executed. He knew Dad, mentions him in the book and sent a signed copy of it to him.
Dad writes:
Many thanks for sending me the book. You did a very good job for the rest of us, particularly the F Force part which, so far as I was aware, had received no publicity whatsoever. It was gratifying for me to learn that the efforts to produce the book had a salutary effect on you, Jim.
My own recollections are extremely vague. On the march up, our policy was that anybody who had to fall out should take a pal whose duty it was to mark the spot where he went off the road to squit. One of my friends, 2nd Lt Dave Jennings, 1 Pahang Bn, FMSVF, stayed at the rear of the column and scooped up the stragglers. I used to join him later in each leg of the walk. I am told that we never lost a man. The midges nearly drove me mad towards the end.
I can remember little about the cholera work. After a day or two I went and lived with my orderlies in a lean-to outside the cholera ward. There were no highlights. Just a relentless round of utter futility trying to save the few saveable, trying to get needles into collapsed veins. Getting up from squatting by the patients on the bamboo slats becoming more difficult as we grew weaker. Ash from the bonfire, which was kept going outside the hut, to mop up the mess on the slats and on the gangway down the middle: it (the ash) was about 9 inches deep all over the gangway by the time we left.
In fact, come to think of it, there were some highlights:
A Nip beat me with a bamboo when I was returning from a visit to the crematorium and your side (I suppose I had forgotten to chuck the bastard a salute).
When we got the daily count wrong and David Price came over – they said he would be shot – but we found the extra corpse.
My chaps knocked off the Japs’ black Labrador and casseroled it in a bucket – I have always regarded Labradors as fine dogs and this one was a Godsend.
Giving an anaesthetic to Lt Col Hudson (appendectomy) on my return to the main camp (I fancied myself as quite an artist with the rag and bottle).
One afternoon I saw a small group of Nips floundering up the road going North. One man, supported by two others, had a rope around his neck: the other end was a few yards ahead over the shoulder of another Nip. We weren’t the only ones!
I don’t think anybody gave you any hope for a successful run, but the gloom caused by news of your recapture was profound.
The trip to Tanbaya was a walk for a few kms to Kami-Songkurai, then truck to a train and so to the “hospital”. The three pagodas were a let-down; the largest was only about 30ft high, it seemed to me. I sat next to a fellow named Renton (?unit) whose name always brings lice to my mind. I lent him a rug (travelling, I had had it since I went to my prepper); it was full of lice when we got back to the camp. Al was lousy (still? or again?) in the truck. When I saw Bruce Hurst and told him, I was banished from the medical hut. Dave Jennings and I settled the men in and saw them “fed” and then reported to Bruce Hurst. Al told us to go to the cookhouse and get some grub. We hadn’t finished before a young Aussie officer came screaming for us accusing us of dereliction of duty. We were “court-martialled” in the morning, but as Bruce Hurst himself was our chief witness for the defence it was a farce. He had the grace to apologise (and later we became firm friends): in fact he embarrassed me and us all by putting me in charge of a regular RAMC Major’s (I only had 2 pips) “work”.
Tanbaya was a vast improvement on Songkurai. The monsoon ended and the forest was less of bamboo.
One was not forever slipping and skidding when walking about.
We were allowed to bathe in a nearby stream, if we could get to and fro on our own feet.
There was some “meat” in the diet and a sort of “fudge” could be bought at Thanbyuzayat and was occasionally brought in. The meat was revolting and putrid, but it may have had a slight effect on our survival.
It was here that I suffered from two afflictions which I do not recall seeing among my own patients; painless abscesses about the size of half a tennis ball; and jaundice. Mercifully the abscesses healed up after Frankie Cahill (Australian surgeon) incised and drained them. I do not know the cause of the jaundice; it was afebrile, but eating required a real effort; it lasted about 10 days.
Malnutrition was still a problem at Tambaya. I did not have ulcer patients, but Bruce Hurst ordered me personally to do the dressings on sores which affected the knuckles of a fairly well known young violinist. I spent about 11⁄2 hours daily on him and we managed to mark time. (I suspect that his chums were passing over morsels of the “meat” to him).
I recollect being called upon to amputate a man’s leg above the knee. Frankie Cahill looked on, but was not fit enough to operate that day. Jock Emery (see Duckworth’s broadcast) gave the anaesthetic. We amputated above the knee (the ulcers were on the lower leg) and all seemed well. Two days later the stump was all ulcer. Seemingly healthy tissue in such men just had no kick.
I remember little of the return to Kanburi; I had almost non-stop squits. No blood, so I would not call it dysentery. We were in open wagons on that trip and I managed to do my jobs squatting on the couplings. At one point we stopped for a few hours. I was parked in the shade of a tree with what I assumed was a private slit-trench latrine. I was told later that it was my grave!
Luck again came to my rescue and the trots eased off during the remainder of the journey. I don’t remember getting from the train to the camp, but it must have been only a fairly short walk. There we met up with K Force (I think). Anyhow there were some fit MOs and ORs who were able to help out with our survivors.
I had a small ulcer under the inside “knuckle” of my foot (L); very painful and smelly. I had visions of the underlying artery being involved and of bleeding to death one night. (This happened to some patients; probably the best way of dying if that was one’s fate). But I didn’t want to die then. We were in the “egg belt” and things were looking promising for a change. Lt Col Houston scraped the ulcer (under partial anaesthesia) but I was horrified when they took the dressing off; we were back to square one (just like my amputation patient, I thought). However, I had been on 4 – 6 duck eggs per day for about 10 days and a few days later, when the “dressing” was removed, there was pink granulation tissue.
Everybody flogged watches or whatever at Kanburi. I got 80 tickals for a watch which I kept in my pack most of the time.
The eggs were cheap (10 cents) and we could also get little dried fish (size of a sprat). Everybody started to improve; it was wonderful.
After that I remained “fit” until the end.
In Changi I worked in Medical Ward 1 with Eric Cruikshank until the end. I never had any more gut-rot and was in reasonable nick.
You remark that F Force should be written up. I can’t imagine that there is a survivor who could do the job. A compilation of the sources of information which you cite might be the only possibility.
You also remark that you hope the medical personnel got some recognition. Well some did. I was fortunate that my name was in the lucky dip and came out with an MBE stuck to it. My Father-in-law sent me a copy of the London Gazette. Of the medical personnel on that list a WO also got the MBE and two RAMC officers did so (Max Pemberton, the surgeon, and Capt WH McDonald); and there were numerous “mentioned in despatches”; 32 officers, 1 WO, 24 other NCOs and 25 privates. I think that a lot of the ORs deserved better than that.
It was kind of you to name me on page 56, but not really deserved. I was only one of many who tried to do something. (Incidentally, I was not in the RAMC, I was the dogsbody of 3 (VR) Field Ambulance, FMSVF (Federated Malay States Volunteer Force)).
PS.
Dear Lindy, (James Bradley’s wife, who wrote the foreword to his book). Your last sentence – “In Jim’s war there was no glory” – I know what you meant, I think. But I looked up “glory” in the Concise OD and one of the many definitions does fit; “honourable fame”. And as I said to Group Captain Cheshire, Jim is my notion of a real hero.
Dad was part of F Force on the Burma-Siam railway. The Japanese decided to build the railway to assist with their invasion of India, using allied POWs held in Singapore in the work force. The POWs were divided into batches, Forces, for the task. Most Forces moved all the way to the railhead in Burma by train in cattle trucks, 30 men per truck. F Force left Singapore on 28 April 1943 with about 7,000 men, British and Australian, but was disembarked at Bampong in Siam. They then had to march on foot for the remaining distance through mountainous jungle during the monsoon at night, 185 miles in nearly three weeks, to five jungle camps near the Burma/Siam border. Many died. Songkurai camp, where Dad ran the cholera hospital, was the worst camp on the railway with a death rate at its peak of 25 per day. Of 1,580 F Force personnel who arrived at Songkurai Camp in May 1943, only 180 were still alive in 1945.
RECOLLECTIONS OF LIFE AS A POW OF THE JAPANESE
This is the transcript of a letter which my father wrote by hand in 1986 to James Bradley, the author of “Towards the Setting Sun”, an account of Bradley’s wartime experiences as a POW and in particular of his escape, subsequent recapture and treatment by the Japanese. Jim Bradley escaped from Songkurai Camp on the Burma-Siam Railway in 1943 with 9 other British and Indian soldiers. Five died in the jungle and the survivors were recaptured. Bradley was tortured but, amazingly, was not executed. He knew Dad, mentions him in the book and sent a signed copy of it to him.
Dad writes:
Many thanks for sending me the book. You did a very good job for the rest of us, particularly the F Force part which, so far as I was aware, had received no publicity whatsoever. It was gratifying for me to learn that the efforts to produce the book had a salutary effect on you, Jim.
My own recollections are extremely vague. On the march up, our policy was that anybody who had to fall out should take a pal whose duty it was to mark the spot where he went off the road to squit. One of my friends, 2nd Lt Dave Jennings, 1 Pahang Bn, FMSVF, stayed at the rear of the column and scooped up the stragglers. I used to join him later in each leg of the walk. I am told that we never lost a man. The midges nearly drove me mad towards the end.
I can remember little about the cholera work. After a day or two I went and lived with my orderlies in a lean-to outside the cholera ward. There were no highlights. Just a relentless round of utter futility trying to save the few saveable, trying to get needles into collapsed veins. Getting up from squatting by the patients on the bamboo slats becoming more difficult as we grew weaker. Ash from the bonfire, which was kept going outside the hut, to mop up the mess on the slats and on the gangway down the middle: it (the ash) was about 9 inches deep all over the gangway by the time we left.
In fact, come to think of it, there were some highlights:
A Nip beat me with a bamboo when I was returning from a visit to the crematorium and your side (I suppose I had forgotten to chuck the bastard a salute).
When we got the daily count wrong and David Price came over – they said he would be shot – but we found the extra corpse.
My chaps knocked off the Japs’ black Labrador and casseroled it in a bucket – I have always regarded Labradors as fine dogs and this one was a Godsend.
Giving an anaesthetic to Lt Col Hudson (appendectomy) on my return to the main camp (I fancied myself as quite an artist with the rag and bottle).
One afternoon I saw a small group of Nips floundering up the road going North. One man, supported by two others, had a rope around his neck: the other end was a few yards ahead over the shoulder of another Nip. We weren’t the only ones!
I don’t think anybody gave you any hope for a successful run, but the gloom caused by news of your recapture was profound.
The trip to Tanbaya was a walk for a few kms to Kami-Songkurai, then truck to a train and so to the “hospital”. The three pagodas were a let-down; the largest was only about 30ft high, it seemed to me. I sat next to a fellow named Renton (?unit) whose name always brings lice to my mind. I lent him a rug (travelling, I had had it since I went to my prepper); it was full of lice when we got back to the camp. Al was lousy (still? or again?) in the truck. When I saw Bruce Hurst and told him, I was banished from the medical hut. Dave Jennings and I settled the men in and saw them “fed” and then reported to Bruce Hurst. Al told us to go to the cookhouse and get some grub. We hadn’t finished before a young Aussie officer came screaming for us accusing us of dereliction of duty. We were “court-martialled” in the morning, but as Bruce Hurst himself was our chief witness for the defence it was a farce. He had the grace to apologise (and later we became firm friends): in fact he embarrassed me and us all by putting me in charge of a regular RAMC Major’s (I only had 2 pips) “work”.
Tanbaya was a vast improvement on Songkurai. The monsoon ended and the forest was less of bamboo.
One was not forever slipping and skidding when walking about.
We were allowed to bathe in a nearby stream, if we could get to and fro on our own feet.
There was some “meat” in the diet and a sort of “fudge” could be bought at Thanbyuzayat and was occasionally brought in. The meat was revolting and putrid, but it may have had a slight effect on our survival.
It was here that I suffered from two afflictions which I do not recall seeing among my own patients; painless abscesses about the size of half a tennis ball; and jaundice. Mercifully the abscesses healed up after Frankie Cahill (Australian surgeon) incised and drained them. I do not know the cause of the jaundice; it was afebrile, but eating required a real effort; it lasted about 10 days.
Malnutrition was still a problem at Tambaya. I did not have ulcer patients, but Bruce Hurst ordered me personally to do the dressings on sores which affected the knuckles of a fairly well known young violinist. I spent about 11⁄2 hours daily on him and we managed to mark time. (I suspect that his chums were passing over morsels of the “meat” to him).
I recollect being called upon to amputate a man’s leg above the knee. Frankie Cahill looked on, but was not fit enough to operate that day. Jock Emery (see Duckworth’s broadcast) gave the anaesthetic. We amputated above the knee (the ulcers were on the lower leg) and all seemed well. Two days later the stump was all ulcer. Seemingly healthy tissue in such men just had no kick.
I remember little of the return to Kanburi; I had almost non-stop squits. No blood, so I would not call it dysentery. We were in open wagons on that trip and I managed to do my jobs squatting on the couplings. At one point we stopped for a few hours. I was parked in the shade of a tree with what I assumed was a private slit-trench latrine. I was told later that it was my grave!
Luck again came to my rescue and the trots eased off during the remainder of the journey. I don’t remember getting from the train to the camp, but it must have been only a fairly short walk. There we met up with K Force (I think). Anyhow there were some fit MOs and ORs who were able to help out with our survivors.
I had a small ulcer under the inside “knuckle” of my foot (L); very painful and smelly. I had visions of the underlying artery being involved and of bleeding to death one night. (This happened to some patients; probably the best way of dying if that was one’s fate). But I didn’t want to die then. We were in the “egg belt” and things were looking promising for a change. Lt Col Houston scraped the ulcer (under partial anaesthesia) but I was horrified when they took the dressing off; we were back to square one (just like my amputation patient, I thought). However, I had been on 4 – 6 duck eggs per day for about 10 days and a few days later, when the “dressing” was removed, there was pink granulation tissue.
Everybody flogged watches or whatever at Kanburi. I got 80 tickals for a watch which I kept in my pack most of the time.
The eggs were cheap (10 cents) and we could also get little dried fish (size of a sprat). Everybody started to improve; it was wonderful.
After that I remained “fit” until the end.
In Changi I worked in Medical Ward 1 with Eric Cruikshank until the end. I never had any more gut-rot and was in reasonable nick.
You remark that F Force should be written up. I can’t imagine that there is a survivor who could do the job. A compilation of the sources of information which you cite might be the only possibility.
You also remark that you hope the medical personnel got some recognition. Well some did. I was fortunate that my name was in the lucky dip and came out with an MBE stuck to it. My Father-in-law sent me a copy of the London Gazette. Of the medical personnel on that list a WO also got the MBE and two RAMC officers did so (Max Pemberton, the surgeon, and Capt WH McDonald); and there were numerous “mentioned in despatches”; 32 officers, 1 WO, 24 other NCOs and 25 privates. I think that a lot of the ORs deserved better than that.
It was kind of you to name me on page 56, but not really deserved. I was only one of many who tried to do something. (Incidentally, I was not in the RAMC, I was the dogsbody of 3 (VR) Field Ambulance, FMSVF (Federated Malay States Volunteer Force)).
PS.
Dear Lindy, (James Bradley’s wife, who wrote the foreword to his book). Your last sentence – “In Jim’s war there was no glory” – I know what you meant, I think. But I looked up “glory” in the Concise OD and one of the many definitions does fit; “honourable fame”. And as I said to Group Captain Cheshire, Jim is my notion of a real hero.
Dad was part of F Force on the Burma-Siam railway. The Japanese decided to build the railway to assist with their invasion of India, using allied POWs held in Singapore in the work force. The POWs were divided into batches, Forces, for the task. Most Forces moved all the way to the railhead in Burma by train in cattle trucks, 30 men per truck. F Force left Singapore on 28 April 1943 with about 7,000 men, British and Australian, but was disembarked at Bampong in Siam. They then had to march on foot for the remaining distance through mountainous jungle during the monsoon at night, 185 miles in nearly three weeks, to five jungle camps near the Burma/Siam border. Many died. Songkurai camp, where Dad ran the cholera hospital, was the worst camp on the railway with a death rate at its peak of 25 per day. Of 1,580 F Force personnel who arrived at Songkurai Camp in May 1943, only 180 were still alive in 1945.