The Battle for Hong Kong 1941-1945

by Oliver Lindsay

  “The hospital was full of our sick and wounded and there were frequent deaths,” continues Wallis. “I was distressed to see a British Other Rank exchange his greatcoat (and Winter was upon us) with a Jap guard for a few cigarettes.”

  Wallis was sent very briefly to Shamshuipo before moving with Maltby and others to Argyle Street, where he found Maltby “a very distressed and disillusioned man. It took me several months sharing the same room to cheer him up and convince him that, far from our troops not being deserving of honours, as he believed, there often is far greater gallantry in defence than in attack. I eventually got him to see that he was being unfair to many brave men.” (Details on those receiving the principal honours and awards for all the 1941–1945 Hong Kong campaign are in the final chapter.)

  * * * * *

  Colonel Newnham continued to keep up his diary in tiny writing on rice paper:

  Apr. 13

  Fleas for last 7 weeks – all off blasted dog of the General’s. 4 months now and still we have not been allowed to send a letter or pc home or even communicate with families in Hong Kong. Against the Geneva Convention. News of Colonel Sutcliffe’s death. Permission refused for GOC and staff to go to funeral.

  Apr. 21

  We now have 550 all ranks in Camp measuring 180 × 140.

  The Japanese started to pay officers but not the soldiers. Virtually all the officers agreed to take only part of their pay, the remainder going into a pool for the men or for the purchase of medical necessities and luxuries such as eggs for the hospital. Unfortunately the yen depreciated so quickly I could barely afford to buy anything.

  On 23rd May 1942 the Japanese started to insist that each POW, internee and patient in hospital must sign a form written in English and Japanese stating that he or she would not escape. There is a certificate in the Imperial War Museum: it states “I hereby swear that I shall not make any attempt to escape while I am a prisoner of the Imperial Japanese Army”, followed by a date and place for a signature. The requirement was sanctioned by Japanese military law. Those who violated it faced death, as had the four Winnipeg Grenadiers, or a long prison sentence.

  The very unpleasant Colonel Tokunaga, of whom more later, insisted that since the surrender had been unconditional, everyone must sign it. He told the Canadians at North Point that failure to do so would signify “mutiny for which death was the obvious outcome”.

  Among those who refused to sign was a Canadian, Lance Corporal J Porter. A Japanese officer spent several hours begging him to sign the pledge. He was given two helpings of beef stew, cups of tea filled with sugar and invited to help himself from a silver cigarette case. The following day he was taken to an even more senior officer who expressed astonishment that Porter had volunteered for the war. The officer commented on Porter’s bravery in refusing to sign and added that he wished the Japanese behaved in such a way. “I replied that I was not doing it because I was brave, but that I was doing it for my King. The interpreter then slapped my face hard,” recalls Porter.4 He was taken to Stanley Prison with six others; the conditions there were foul. They were shaken awake every hour throughout each night, beaten with truncheons and urged to sign.

  “On 31st May our food and water was stopped. Several of my fellow prisoners were suffering from dysentery; no toilet paper was supplied and the mess in the cells was frightful. Their sufferings became so acute that on 4th June we decided to sign the form,” reported Porter.

  The patients in the Bowen Road Hospital were equally reluctant to sign. The senior officers there advised against doing so. On 26th May all ambulatory patients and the hospital staff were crammed into the hospital’s tennis courts and left there under a hot sun. Later in the day an officer from Argyle Street arrived to tell the men that General Maltby felt they should comply; most did so. (Three years later, after the hospital had moved to Kowloon, the staff and patients had to sign the same documents again but with the original date.)

  Charles Boxer and two other officers still refused to sign the form in late May 1942, possibly because they believed that they were answerable to the King, not to the Japanese. As a result Boxer’s future wife, Emily Hahn, was not allowed to see him. She had not been interned, thanks to his influence and uncertainty about her nationality because of her previous relationship with the Chinese Sinmay Zau. One day she went to Boxer to discover that he had been moved she knew not where. Nevertheless, according to one source she continued to deliver parcels to the patients, and also to friends interned in Stanley Camp. Together with others, whom she called “the army of basket bringers”, parcels were also taken on a regular basis to Shamshuipo and Argyle Street where she found Boxer once more. She claimed to have spent four days a week on such deliveries, receiving funding probably from Doctor P S Selwyn-Clarke. The International Red Cross, however, reported all ‘parcel days’ had been stopped.

  Suddenly the camp was struck by illness, frighteningly similar to cholera. One victim, a Volunteer, had succeeded in concealing the fact that he was completely bald, having hung on to his toupee, his dearest possession. But when he was carried on a stretcher to the hospital it fell off. Several brother officers were horrified – commenting on the gravity of the symptoms which had apparently suddenly deprived him of his hair.

  What was not so funny was an “explosive” outbreak of diphtheria. Eighteen critically ill were admitted to Bowen Road Hospital in August 1942 and no fewer than 59 in September. Twelve of them died that month and seven more later. In a number of these cases there was extensive skin ulceration mainly affecting the scrotum and the perineum, while the nose and face were also sometimes affected.5 The Canadians at North Point and Shamshuipo were the worst hit because they had not been inoculated in Canada beforehand. Between June 1942 and February 1943 there were 714 recorded cases, of whom 112 Canadians died. The Japanese chief medical officer, Doctor Saito Shunkichi, was accused of withholding vital serum.

  One day at dawn I realised I was seriously ill. We had military doctors in the camp but virtually no medical equipment. We had to make an operating table out of planks: it was a pretty grim affair.

  I had a sore throat which gradually produced a film across it. I had diphtheria. At that time there was almost a daily procession from Shamshuipo Camp bearing those who had died of it. A bugler blew the Last Post and all of us stood to attention.

  At the 10.00 a.m. roll call parade, I was too weak to get up; the Japanese guard came round to count me, still in bed. I was then taken to a small isolated hut, the ‘hospital’ in the far corner of the camp. There were three others already there, one of whom was Roger Lamble. Although we were very ill, we largely had to look after ourselves. Rice was passed to us through a small hatch.

  Suddenly, after a few days, I became much worse. One of the doctors gave me an injection of the vital serum, of which there was a desperate shortage. Two days later he returned again to give me another one. The next night, I remember, I yelled out as a film developed across my throat which I think was the standard diphtheria taking its course. Instead of my losing consciousness and dying, as many did, the film broke and within about ten days I had recovered, although I was still very weak.

  After the war I came to hear of the work of Dr P S Selwyn-Clarke, the former Director of Medical Services in Hong Kong. He had persuaded the Japanese, who were themselves very nervous of catching any disease, that he should not be interned. He was allowed only the minimum of staff but, despite Japanese obstruction, he sent medicines into the various camps and looked after the dependants of the Volunteers and families of the other emergency services.

  There was another possible source for the serum which saved my life: it could have come from the British Military Hospital at Bowen Road which was run by Dr Donald Bowie, who wrote in his memoirs: “I want to record my personal admiration for the courage of doctors and Royal Army Medical Corps and Royal Army Dental Corps soldiers who nursed these diphtheria cases. Everyone knew of the shortage of serum and of the risks of infection. No one shirked the cl
ose contacts involved in the treatment of these patients and this to my mind was an outstanding example of cold and sustained courage in a situation where staff were at risk for at least five months. The work of these men cannot be praised too highly and the story deserves to be cherished in the annals of the Corps.

  “Since serum was in such short supply Major G C F Harrison RAMC, after anxious consultation, gave transfusions of blood from patients who had recovered from diphtheria to four patients suffering from the disease in an acute form. Two of these recovered,” concluded Bowie.

  * * * * *

  The superintendent of all the camps in Hong Kong was Colonel Tokunaga Isao, nicknamed ‘Fat Pig’ because he was so obese. He had been a regular soldier for 30 years and lived in Kowloon with his Chinese mistress. He had a violent temper, and was totally unscrupulous as well as a thief.

  We also had to put up with the Japanese interpreters. Nimori Genichiro, nicknamed ‘Panama Pete’, was a smallish Japanese-American who had pointed ears and wore military boots and a khaki cloak. He had spent most of his life in Chicago, was dapper, diminutive and addressed everyone as “Youse guys”. We particularly disliked Inouye Kanao, nicknamed ‘Slap Happy’ or ‘Shat in Pants’. He was swarthy, usually unshaven and had eyes set closely together. He was a Japanese-Canadian whose uniform was so ill-fitting that the seat of his trousers hung in a pendulous kind of bag. He had a grudge against everyone and Canadians in particular.

  Kyoshi Watanabe, another interpreter, was quite different. He had been a Lutheran Minister; he certainly succeeded in combining Christian charity with his duties. The other guards became aware of his unobtrusive acts of kindness and so he was transferred elsewhere, to our disappointment. Another helpful interpreter was the stocky, bandy-legged ‘Cardiff Joe’ who was reputed to have money still in Cardiff, to where he seemed anxious to return. Finally there was the lanky, short-sighted tubercular youth named Katayama; he was such a negative character that he was never given a nickname.

  Apparently up to 400 Indians, some former soldiers, served in Hong Kong’s camps as sentries and in other jobs. No doubt some of them were pressurised to do so. Formosans (Taiwanese) were also guarding us at times. A few of them were humane and helpful but most were cruel and exploited the prisoners, especially the females at Stanley, I read after the war.

  I should emphasise that in 1942 it was almost impossible to discover what was going on in the internment camp at Stanley or in the other POW camps, nor what was happening outside Hong Kong. This was particularly distressing for families who could not learn if their loved ones were alive.

  Taking the Royal Scots, for example, all but three of the 43 wives had been evacuated from Hong Kong to Australia in June 1940 on the orders of the Governor. The exceptions were Mrs S E H E White, the Commanding Officer’s wife and ‘Quartermaster’ of the Volunteers Nursing Detachment. Mrs H A W Millar was also a nurse, as was Peggie Scotcher who married Lieutenant T D Hunter, the Battalion’s Intelligence Officer, on Christmas Day, one hour after the surrender, in the hospital where he was lying wounded. It was not possible to find out where they were, or under what circumstances they were living – or indeed if they were still alive – until far too long. In fact, all three endured the same privations as the men in the Stanley Internment Camp and all did survive.

  On 3rd July 1942 two representatives of the International Red Cross made their first visit to Hong Kong. They were Rudolf Zindel, a successful Swiss businessman who had lived in Hong Kong before the war, and Edward Egle, an IRC official based in Shanghai. In one day they visited the camps at Argyle Street, North Point and Shamshuipo, together with Bowen Road and St Theresa hospitals.

  Their report on our Argyle Street Camp read as follows: “This camp, built on raised ground prior to the outbreak of the Pacific War housed from 600 to 800 interned Chinese soldiers which were forced over the Hong Kong Border during the Sino-Japanese fighting in October 1938. The camp is exceptionally well drained; the barracks are built of wood, log-cabin style, and give a neat impression; open space is somewhat limited, but appears adequate.

  “On the day of our visit, the Camp contained the following Prisoners of War:-

  474

  Officers (including Major General Maltby)

  19

  N.C. Officers

  93

  Batmen (Orderlies)

  ___

  TOTAL

  586

  Officers and men – from Regular Army Units, the Royal Navy and Hong Kong Volunteers

  “A ‘bakery’ had only just been started, previous to which ‘dough-cakes’, cooked in water, were served. A ‘Canteen’ was available, which was being supplied with fresh stocks about every ten days, but was usually quickly sold out. No facilities for religious services.

  “There was no ‘parcel-service’ in the Camp, since February, but an early resumption is promised. (Note: the ‘parcel service’ actually recommenced middle July 1942 and has been maintained once per week, ever since.)”6

  Zindel and Egle made equally reassuring comments about North Point Camp which contained 1,577 Canadians and 28 Dutch Seamen, and Shamshuipo, where 4,404 officers and men of the Royal Navy, Army and Volunteers were housed. Their remarks on Shamshuipo, for example, included the comment: “Food said to be sometimes better, sometimes worse, with meat rare, but, generally speaking, no cause for complaint. The officers consulted assured us that the treatment accorded to them and their men was good.”

  Why didn’t Zindel and Egle have the guts to report the truth? They saw that the POWs looked haggard and ill. They heard Captain K M A Barnett say first in French and then in English, “We are dying of hunger.” They saw that he was immediately knocked to the ground.

  Zindel met a POW named R Egal, a Free French who had been fighting with the British. “Pretending to know me, he heartily shook hands in the presence of the Japanese,” wrote Zindel. “While doing so, he slipped into my hand a small object which I succeeded in getting into my trouser pocket without arousing suspicion. Later, in my house, I inspected the object which turned out to be a small cutting of a bamboo branch. It had been hollowed out, but stopped at both ends with a little straw. Inside the tube I found a note, written in ink, in exceptionally fine but clear writing, which gave valuable information concerning the Argyle Street and Shamshuipo Camps.”

  What explanation had Zindel for sending totally misleading reports which were cheerfully circulated by the International Red Cross in Geneva? “Through a contact which I had in the censor’s office in Hong Kong,” he wrote later, “I learned that all my Delegation mail and cables were strictly censored. My first full reports to Geneva never arrived. At least one was given by a Japanese censor to his girlfriend, who in turn boastfully reported the matter to me. She was able to quote extracts from the report.” One report which eventually passed the Hong Kong censor after satisfactory explanations was returned to Hong Kong by the censor in Tokyo three months later.

  “International Red Cross delegates report that the general state of health of the prisoners in Hong Kong is good,” reported The Times on 27th October 1942, “and that they are satisfied with administrative arrangements.” The Commander in Chief India cabled two days later stating that this report was in direct contradiction of the facts, for there were a minimum of three diphtheria deaths daily in Shamshuipo. The Foreign Office and Colonial Office initially sat back and accepted the favourable reports, although there was every likelihood that the contrary reports from Chungking on Japanese brutalities were quite likely to be true.

  I saw Zindel’s visit. We were terribly disappointed that he was “whisked past us at twice the speed of light”, as one of my friends put it.

  Couldn’t Egle back in Shanghai have sent a true report through his channels? Apparently not. Indeed, according to one author, “he praised their operation so lavishly that the Japanese expressed their gratitude to him by hosting a banquet in his honour at Shanghai’s Cathay Hotel.”7

  Zindel headed a staff of 3
0 to distribute financial aid amounting to £10,000 per month that the British Government regularly dispatched to the civilian internees at Stanley. In 1945 it was learnt that the Japanese government “siphoned off a large part of those funds to exchange for gold in neutral countries so that it could purchase critical war supplies”.8

  Behind the scenes, Zindel may have helped us more than we then knew. For example, he arranged for 1,450 books from a library in Victoria to be transferred to us in Argyle Street. At least a third of them were in continuous circulation. Moreover, Zindel sensibly used what remained of the £10,000 to help us POWs, to the dismay of the War Office which believed that “proper care and maintenance of the POWs is the duty of the capturing power”. The monthly allocation, due in part to Canadian pressure, was later increased to £60,000.

  Within two years Zindel’s ability to do anything constructive seems to have deteriorated. “Zindel is working under a great mental and nervous strain,” wrote the Red Cross delegate in Chungking to Geneva in August 1944. “His office and flat have been searched by the Jap police who call weekly and look into everything. It is doubtful whether Zindel is allowed or would dare to send you reports stating the true facts.”

  * * * * *

  Quite unexpectedly we had our hopes raised most dramatically.