I have received orders by wireless from the Supreme Allied Commander, South East Asia Command, to make immediate contact with you for the following purposes:-
1/. That you have in place transport and facilities at my disposal in order that I may visit and report on all Allied Prisoners of War and Internee camps in this State. I must report by wireless (a) numbers of prisoners in each camp (b) conditions of each camp (c) types of prisoners held (d) location of camps (e) most urgent needs to be dropped by air.
2/. That you will give my Party, which will consist of myself, Captain Robert W[indistinct] my assistant, Captain Halman Medical Officer, a sergeant wireless officer and fourteen Guerrilla soldiers to act as [indistinct] whilst carrying out the duties described in paragraph 1 above.
3/. I am NOT empowered to accept any Surrender nor carry out negotiations of any sort. I have no right to give any guarantee or promise of any sort.
4/. The wireless signal received and aforementioned states that you are still obliged to administer and maintain the Prisoners of War and detainee camps until you receive orders from the Supreme Allied Commander South East Asia Command. I cannot and have not the authority to relieve you at present of this responsibility.
5/. Please intimate whether you require my party to be armed or otherwise. They are all well under control. I suggest arms are not necessary if you can guarantee us Safe Conduct…..
Your escort and vehicles could contact us at the Station at any time. I have a man constantly at the Station who will know where to contact us at any time should the escort arrive during our absence.
Yours sincerely,
Capt. C.S Morrison. Australian Imperial Forces
It is difficult to know how Governor Katayama reacted privately to this bold letter from an upstart commando in his early twenties skulking in the jungle fringes, but his formal reply, written on 30 August, was civil though non-committal:
I have the honour to inform you that I have received your letter dated 28th last, the contents of which were noted with thanks. I beg to point out to the fact that I am the Civil Officer under control of the Imperial Nipponese Forces stationed here and carrying out the civil administration to the local inhabitants and have nothing to do regarding the treatment of prisoners of war etc. Under the circumstances, I have tried to transmit your message to the Military Commander of Imperial Forces stationed here but informed that no individual private negotiation can be entertained, therefore I am returning your correspondence inclosed herein.
Galvanic Orange and its MPAJA allies emerged publicly into the small town of Serendah and based themselves in a bungalow one mile to the south of the town, prominently flying a Union Jack. Meanwhile, the guerrillas took over the local police station and used Serendah’s cottage hospital to treat their sick. This proved all too much for the local Japanese commander who decided to retake the police station and attacked the MPAJA; it required the intervention of a flag-bearing British team to intercede between the two combatants and persuade the Japanese to back off. Following this Morrison reported to headquarters, ‘Queer situation here. Japs and selves just glare at each other when passing.’ Nevertheless an effective cease-fire and liaison with the Japanese was established. Thereafter the Japanese left a small military presence in Serendah, partly to maintain ‘face’ but also to explain to Japanese forces heading south to Kuala Lumpur about the changed circumstances and the agreed arrangements.
The next day, on 2 September, a Force 136 team led by Broadhurst, Davis and Morrison, travelled by car the short distance to Kuala Lumpur. Despite promises of safe-passage Morrison reported an ‘unprovoked attack by Japs on us but no casualties’; the incident was seemingly pushing and hostile gesturing by Japanese troops rather than a fully-fledged attack. Brushing this off, the by now sixteen-strong team visited the Japanese military headquarters and arranged through them to visit the main POW Camp, which was located at the Suleiman Building in central Kuala Lumpur. On 3 September, Morrison reported ‘Very few white PWs kept here any time. These sent to Singapore two years ago... Met the Indian officer POWs at the Jap HQ who stated number of prisoners in that camp one thousand five hundred. All Indians. No white POWs this state. Many units in camp represented and officers making nominal roll. They state conditions poor. Need food, clothing, medical stores and comforts. You can drop at race course at KL. Japs promise to help us. Indicate TOT and ground indicator required.… The Indian POWs not INA.’ Morrison concluded ‘Japs cooperating but don’t trust little bastards.’ Despite these trenchant antipodean sentiments, the Japanese were by now co-operating fully and the Galvanic team moved to a villa at 109 Ampang Road in central Kuala Lumpur supplied by them.
A Power Vacuum
The period between the Japanese surrender and the British return was a strange twilight world. On 5 September, the Malay Mail, as opposed to the Malay Mail New Order, printed its first edition since early 1942. Treading gingerly, the newspaper noted that ‘Although we have been permitted to change the name of the newspaper, the public will still realise that conditions are still not normal and that so long as the Japanese Military Administration is responsible for law and order in the State, we are subject to official censorship..’. But displaying its colours a little more bravely, the newspaper carried the banner ‘Freedom of speech and free expression of public opinion have now been restored to Malaya.’
In Kuala Lumpur, Force 136’s first priority was to get badly needed aid and supplies to the Indian POWS at the Suleiman Building. At Minneriya airbase in Ceylon, vital supplies for the various POW camps being liberated across Malaya and Thailand, as well as specialist paratroop, medical and Gurkha units, were ready for air drop where and when needed. Indicative of the problems faced, on 4 September a planned drop of supplies for Kuala Lumpur came and went. Morrison signalled, in some exasperation, ‘PWs, Japs, selves anxiously waited racecourse yesterday but no drop. PWs disappointed.’ More positively, however, he noted that ‘Japs have given us transport. Japs salute us now.’ The next day there was an air drop but it was not expected and there was no welcoming party. Morrison signalled ‘Yesterday morning one plane dropped POW comforts. No warning. Consequentially civilians looted about two containers before our arrival.’ But things were to improve; later that day Morrison signalled ‘Finally, the afternoon drop all clothes military and civil. Luckily received intact. Please indicate who civilian clothes for. Also received two bundles newspapers. Now have POWs permanently waiting on racecourse. POWs much heartened by drop.’ On 7 September, the Malay Mail, under its new colours, appealed to its readers to cooperate in the handling of parachute-dropped supplies so that they might reach their intended recipients – prisoners of war. One local eyewitness later recalled seeing a ‘low flying Allied plane with the side door open and the air crew clearly seen pushing out supplies to the ex POWs assembled below. Within days new shirts made out of parachute material appeared on the blackmarket’.
Major Hunter from Galvanic Blue was another early entrant into Kuala Lumpur alongside a party of ten MPAJA guerrillas. He noted that ‘bitter were the looks I received from the guards at the numerous barriers which straddled the approaches to the city. They were no little shaken those guards.’ His first port of call was to the Japanese Military Governor, who was keen that Hunter and his guerrillas should return to the jungle from where they had come. But Hunter explained that ‘(a) he had been there for some time and had no wish to return and (b) as we had won the war this time he had no alternative but to comply with my desires.’
Force 136 had commandeered various bungalows in the elite Kenny Hills area of Kuala Lumpur and one of these was allocated to the MCP, along with a car and driver. Following discussions with Colonel Davis and Lt. Col. Broadhurst, the Japanese agreed to cooperate in an orderly transition of power, to include the CPM. From the MPAJA, Liew Yao (a ‘military’ Central Committee member) and Chin Peng moved to Kuala Lumpur. As a gesture of solidarity, but also to highlight British strength, Captain Davis invited Chin Peng to Morib
to watch the British invasion force arrive. The MPAJA, however, had its own agenda and many cadre members, clad in a dark green khaki uniform courtesy of the British, and a green cap with the three stars (bintang tiga - or ‘three stars’ - one communist star for each of Malaya’s three main communities) emerged independently and provocatively on the streets of Kuala Lumpur in commandeered vehicles, in a very public display of force and authority. Kuala Lumpur citizens were conflicted, with many seeing them as liberators while others viewed them as little more than bandits. Between them and the Japanese army there was a frosty hostility but one that did not break out into fighting – though both sides were on edge and wary. Far more concerned were the collaborators and agents of the Japanese, mostly Chinese, who were hunted down for the communists’ brand of summary justice. With the Japanese moving into barracks, Kuala Lumpur suffered ‘considerable rice looting and pilferage’ as hungry people took the opportunity to seize the contents of food stockpiles. Major Hunter used his MPAJA guerrillas to set up some static guards in key locations but also ‘flying squads’ designed to respond to incidents. He later, and with no absence of modesty, attributed ‘the secret of success throughout this troubled time, the velvet hand in the iron glove’.
Kuala Lumpur Re-Occupied
With Penang successfully re-occupied on 3 September, Admiral ‘Hookey’ Walker’s fleet moved down the Straits of Malacca and one week later, on 9 September, British and Indian Army troops landed at Morib. Thanks in part to liaison work conducted by Force 136 officers, the landing was successfully concluded. Far from meeting opposition, some Japanese troops helped pull ashore British troop amphibious landing craft that got stuck in the mud. On 10 September, a convoy of British and Indian troops headed to Kuala Lumpur. The Malay Mail noted that a convoy of ‘150 ships’ [a significant exaggeration] has arrived at Morib and about 35,000 British and Indian [again a significant exaggeration] troops began to move northwards at noon…’. Finally, late that afternoon, the convoy arrived in Kuala Lumpur, there to be received by boisterous and noisy crowds, the lead British jeeps pushing their way through the jubilant throng to the padang and the city centre. For the first couple of days following the arrival of British forces, the Force 136 officers continued to take the lead in responding to security incidents and in policing the city. One unexpected problem came with the arrival of fresh – perhaps overly fresh – Indian troops who ‘as conquerors doubtless’ decided to ‘avail themselves of the youth and beauty’ of the Indian ladies of Sentul. Major Hunter noted that ‘This was stopped. And rightly’.
Kuala Lumpur’s Surrender Ceremony
At 2.00pm on Thursday 13 September, a British military delegation led by the Commanding Officer of the 34 Indian Corp, Lt. Gen. O.L. Roberts, supported by Captain Cooper of the Royal Navy and Air Vice Marshall the Earl of Brandon from the Royal Air Force, oversaw the signing of the formal instrument of surrender in Kuala Lumpur. It was held in the hall of the Victoria Institution, which pre-war had been the premier school in Kuala Lumpur and during the war had been used as a headquarters building by the Japanese military. The surrender ceremony echoed others taking place in Penang, Singapore, Labuan and various locations in the Dutch East Indies. The day before, the Supreme Allied Commander South East Asia Command, Lord Louis Mountbatten, had touched down at the aerodrome in Klang on his way from Penang to the main surrender ceremony in Singapore but chose not to visit Kuala Lumpur.
At the Kuala Lumpur Surrender Ceremony, the Japanese were represented by Lt. Gen. Teizo Ishiguro, the Commander-in-Chief of the Japanese 29th Army, supported by Maj. Gen. Naoichi Kawahara, the Chief of the General Staff and Major General Inouye. The Japanese delegation arrived in three cars, each flying a white flag of surrender. On arrival they were held under guard in a small room off the main hall until the British delegation arrived, under an escort of Military Police. An honour guard from the 29th Punjabi Regiment provided security. The British faced a singular problem, however, because a Union Jack could not be found as a backdrop to the ceremony. Fortuitously one pro-British Malayan had - at much personal risk - hidden a flag at his home throughout the Japanese occupation and he dashed home to bring it to the ceremony. Once the flag was in place, the Japanese entered the main hall, bowed to the Union Jack and then on behalf of the Japanese, Lt. Gen. Teizo Ishiguro signed the document in Japanese calligraphics, using a brush. Lt. Gen. Roberts then responded on behalf of the British. The entire ceremony took just twenty minutes and was over by 2.30pm. Throughout, and despite much jeering and hostility from the crowd outside, the Japanese delegation maintained a ‘calm and unperturbed demeanour’.
Immediately after the signing ceremony, Lt. Gen. Roberts drove the short distance to the central padang where at 3.00pm a march past of British, allied and MPAJA (mostly from Force 136 units Galvanic, Brown and Orange) took place. Roberts was flanked, appropriately enough, by Spencer Chapman and John Davis from Force 136. Photographs of the occasion highlight the central role accorded to the MPAJA contingents, marching smartly in their British-supplied uniforms. This inclusiveness was all part of an effort to draw the communists into the British post-war settlement - an ambitious objective that was soon to show signs of fraying. A large and enthusiastic crowd gathered to witness the Japanese humiliation. The parade and display of martial power sent the message, as it was intended to do, that the British were back and in charge. Sitting in Kajang, Mr. Sinnadurai noted that the ‘army parade made a lasting impression particularly on the uneducated’. This was further increased in the following days as Japanese POWs, guarded by Indian soldiers, were set to work cleaning the streets of Kuala Lumpur. The Malay Mail noted that ‘large crowds today watched with unconcealed joy batches of Japanese soldiers cleaning the streets and other public works. Whoops of delight signified the pleasure the spectators derived at seeing the bumptious, rude, face-slapping Japanese soldier so meek and cowed’.
While the surrender formalities were taking place, the new British Military Administration (BMA) was setting up shop in the former offices of the Federal Secretariat. Brigadier H.C. Willan, who luxuriated under the title Deputy Chief Civil Administration Officer (DCCAO), established the headquarters of the ‘Mainland Division’ of the BMA in Kuala Lumpur, which assumed de-facto control of the various BMA ‘regions’. Willan moved into the Governor’s Residence at Carcosa, where many of the early meetings with the MPAJA were held. Indicative of the cultural differences, Major MacDonald reported that Willan was ‘rather more delighted than otherwise by their unaffected manners and guerrilla tactics in that (a) they would calmly seat themselves on the sofa beside him or (b) help themselves liberally from his table. These little peccadilloes, though amusing at outset, were apt to pall in the long run. It was checked.’
Racial Clashes in Kajang
In the rural areas of Selangor the situation proved more fluid. In and around Kajang, to the south of Kuala Lumpur, Major MacDonald and his four-man liaison team struggled to prevent serious inter-racial clashes and lynch mobs taking revenge on ‘puppet’ policemen and collaborators. On 31 August, MacDonald and his men moved out of their jungle camp. Firstly they met Colonel Broadhurst and a group of Japanese officers who had driven out to Kajang to explain to the local Japanese commander the need to cooperate with the British and their MPAJA allies. A local deal was negotiated, which left the Japanese commander, Lieutenant Morri, and his five Japanese military police responsible for safety and security in the town. The biggest problem centred on the 65 local ‘puppet’ policemen who had collaborated with the Japanese and had now moved for safety, with their families, to Kajang police station. Here they huddled, well armed but in fear for their lives.
The local security arrangements held firm for a few days, but on 4 September the Japanese commander, still wedded to the old methods, sent his men to burn down the houses of six villagers who had been found looting rice. This incident soured the atmosphere. On 10 September, a mob of between 2-3,000 men surrounded the police station, where ’10 Sikhs, 2 Indians and 53
Malay... puppets’ were holed up. It all proved too much for Lieutenant Morri, who set off to Kuala Lumpur with his Japanese troops, taking with him a handful of Malay policemen and the bulk of the weapons. It was at this point that the mob chose to move on the police station. In the ensuing mêlée, at least one policeman was caught and murdered. Luckily for the remaining men and their families, MacDonald and his MPAJA guerrillas intervened, took control of the police station and placed all there under ‘protective custody’. The baying crowd outside was moved on and patrols were set. MacDonald concluded, with some justification, that the ‘situation….had very definitely been ugly and might well have got very out of hand if we hadn’t taken over’.
This was not the end of MacDonald’s problems, though the difficulties he now faced proved more insidious. Increasing numbers of ‘bandits’ were terrorising rural areas of Selangor. Many of these operated under the ‘three stars’ but, in a fine distinction, MacDonald categorised those communists working with him as ‘guerrillas’ (therefore legitimate) while those not in liaison with Force 136 were considered ‘bandits’ (and therefore not legitimate). On one occasion it took the intervention of Chin Peng to adjudicate on which side of the line one particular group fell. On 20 September, Broadhurst was reinforced by regular troops from the 6/8th Punjab Regiment that had come ashore at Morib as part of Zipper. They, however, were banned from engaging in the active pursuit of bandits due to an understandable wish to reduce the risk of clashes with the MPAJA. Thus the thorny problem of how to work with the MPAJA was to remain with Force 136 for a few more weeks to come.
After the surrender ceremony, in and around Kajang, MacDonald noted that the town was busy with ‘unions, meetings and general flag waving (red)’. On one occasion a group of young communists from a ‘propaganda unit’ visited the town, replete with bunting, banners and loudspeakers calling for volunteers to join the struggle. While acknowledging that the MPAJA troops ‘did a very fine job in volunteering to assist the Allies’ by early October, just six weeks after they were called to deploy, MacDonald felt their job had been done and that the MPAJA should be disbanded. Astutely, he recognised that his MCP guerrillas were only offering qualified support and concluded that ‘Something which was essentially Anti-Jap is now speedily becoming an Anti-British and ‘Quit Malaya’ policy.’ In the circumstances, MacDonald was no doubt hugely thankful when, on 10 October, he and his men were relieved by 20 Indian policemen. But MacDonald’s sense that his wartime MPAJA allies were fast becoming adversaries proved prescient. Major Hunter and Galvanic Blue meanwhile were trying to tackle ‘armed bands and pretty tough thugs’ who were ‘milling about in Sungei Besi troubling the population no little with threats of violence’. In Klang, looting and intimidation by armed gangs proved a problem that was only finally dealt with by the dispatch of a Force 136 team.
Kuala Lumpur at War 1939-1945 Page 18