The Name of Valour

by The Name of Valour (retail) (epub)

  ‘I ’spect so,’ said Rossi. ‘When we saw these hills on our way here yesterday, I noticed it wisnae all cliffs – there’s a valley on the other side where they could prob’ly get up. It’ll be close jungle up there, mind, and I don’t imagine there will be many trails.’

  ‘That’s it, then. If I was the Jap officer in command down there, I’d leave enough men to keep us bottled up in here, and send the rest round to get above us. Drop a few grenades on us from up there, a few more through the openings in the roof of the cavern… they might even bring the whole lot down on us.’

  ‘Charlie!’

  He glanced over his shoulder to see Sheridan gesturing at him from the shadows of the mouth of the cave. He waved her away. ‘Get back, you silly bitch! It’s dangerous!’

  ‘Come and see! I’ve found a different way out of here!’

  Torrance did not remember seeing another way out on his survey the previous evening, but there were so many shadows and alcoves in the rock, it was entirely possible he had missed something. ‘Go and see what she’s on about, Jimmy.’

  ‘You stay where you, MacLeod!’ said Kerr. ‘I give the orders here. If anyone’s going to investigate, it should be me. You four, stay here and hold them off till I send for you.’ Slinging his Thompson from one shoulder, the lance corporal dashed back to where Sheridan stood, and the two of them disappeared into the shadows of the cave.

  Torrance, Grant, MacLeod and Rossi remained in their positions at the top of the steps. ‘He’s no’ coming back, is he?’ asked MacLeod.

  Rossi shook his head. ‘No’ if the doc’s right about there being another way out o’ these caves.’

  ‘You lads wait here,’ said Torrance. ‘I’ll find out where they’ve gone.’

  He ran back into the cave after Kerr and Sheridan. Ascending the stairs at the back of the cave, he emerged into the foot of the sinkhole to find Sheridan gazing up at Kerr scrambling up the rocks at the foot of the cliffs, where they sloped down to the floor almost at a forty-five degree angle.

  ‘This is your way out?’ he asked Sheridan incredulously.

  ‘We could maybe climb out up that groove there.’ She pointed to where a lip of rock partially concealed a chimney sloping up the side of the cliffs at an angle above where Kerr was climbing. ‘If we could just make it up to where those ferns overhang those rocks up there, it slopes less steeply from there on.’

  ‘The tricky bit is getting to those ferns!’

  ‘You got a better idea?’

  Torrance doffed his balmoral and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair in agitation. He did not have a better idea. Besides, Kerr seemed to think it could be done. ‘You think you’d be able to climb up there?’ he asked Sheridan.

  ‘I’m willing to have a go, sure.’

  That made Torrance’s mind up for him. Anything a judy was willing to try, he could try too. ‘Okay,’ he told her. ‘You start climbing. I’ll tell the others to follow.’

  He ran back inside the cave and down the steps. When he was halfway across the floor to where the other steps led up to the entrance, he paused. He could hear shots coming from where Grant, Rossi and MacLeod were holding off the Japanese. If he told them there was a way up the side of the sinkhole, they might be tempted to abandon their posts and follow at once, and then who would hold off the Japanese? The longer they stayed at their posts, the longer Torrance would have to climb up, and the better his own chances of survival. Sure, some of them might die, but that was war for you: you couldn’t make an omelette without breaking eggs. He turned around and hurried back to the sink-hole, pausing only to urinate in a shadowy corner. As pressing as his need to get out of the caves was, his need to relieve himself was greater. Climbing up the sink-hole would be difficult enough without the distraction of a bursting bladder.

  By now Kerr was near the top of the chimney, and Sheridan was at its foot. ‘Are the others coming?’

  ‘They’ll hold the Japs as long as they can,’ Torrance explained, truthfully enough, and only feeling a little bit guilty about leaving them behind. If they could not work out what was going on for themselves, then as far as Torrance was concerned, they did not deserve to survive. He walked across to the foot of the cliff and began to scramble up the rock.

  For the first twenty feet, he did not even need to use his hands. The ten feet up to the foot of the chimney were trickier. There were handholds and footholds, of course, it was just that they were not positioned in places designed to help a man climb up. At one point he had to position a toecap on a ledge about half an inch across, brace his left hand against the rock, and reach up to the next ledge with his right. It was a stretch to reach it. Getting the fingertips of one hand over it, he had to take his foot off the ledge to bring his other hand alongside it, which left both his legs hanging in space. Trying to pull himself up by the strength of his arms, he scrabbled his boots against the rocks below. He managed to get his elbows on to the ledge above, but there was not enough room to swing his whole body up. He had to scrabble in search of another foothold he could use to boost himself up high enough to reach the next handhold.

  Dr Sheridan managed this? he wondered incredulously. From now on, he would have to regard the doctor with a little more respect.

  He made the mistake of looking down. Thirty feet up did not look so very high from below, but up here… well, thirty feet or three hundred feet, if he fell, his skull would crack like an eggshell when he hit the bottom. The thought set off spasms in the pit of his stomach.

  Forcing himself to continue climbing, he had just reached the bottom of the chimney when he heard explosions echoing through the cave. Not big ones – probably rifle grenades – but explosions nonetheless. Glancing down, he saw Rossi and MacLeod emerge into the foot of the sinkhole below.

  Bracing his spine against the rock to free one arm, Torrance waved to them. ‘Up here, lads!’

  They looked up, and Rossi gestured in disgust. ‘What did I tell you?’ Torrance heard him ask MacLeod.

  ‘I was just making sure it was safe to climb to the top before coming back for you.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah!’ Rossi pointed to the rocks that could be ascended to the foot of the chimney, and pushed MacLeod towards them before following.

  ‘Where’s Titch?’ Torrance called down as he resumed climbing.

  ‘Holding off the Japs at the cave entrance.’

  ‘Oh, so you didn’t have any qualms about leaving him to die!’

  ‘I had lots o’ qualms.’ Rossi started to scramble up the rocks after MacLeod. ‘But he insisted.’

  MacLeod had already reached the bottom of the chimney when Grant emerged into the sinkhole. Seeing the others climbing, he quickly fashioned a makeshift sling out of his log-line so he could sling the Bren across his back, and followed them.

  Torrance looked up. That was even more dizzying than looking down. He was not even a quarter of the way up yet, and from there it looked as though it only got harder. Another thirty feet up, Sheridan was spreadeagled on the rock face like a very awkward and nervous-looking spider. Above her, Kerr balanced precariously on a ledge, trying to pull her up. If he’s not careful, thought Torrance, they’ll both fall and land on my head…

  Hearing footsteps below, he glanced down to see half a dozen Japanese soldiers run out of the cavern into the sinkhole. They looked around, bewildered. Grant and MacLeod pushed themselves back against the cliff, hoping the lip of rock to their left would help conceal them. It might have done, too, if Kerr had not dislodged a stone further up. It clattered down the chimney, missing Torrance by inches, before shattering against the rocks below with a crack like a rifle shot.

  The NCO pointed directly at Torrance and barked out an order. The soldiers braced their rifle butts to their shoulders. They opened fire, the bullets striking the rocks above Torrance’s head, a fleck of chipped-off stone almost blinding him. The silly buggers had forgotten that whether you were shooting uphill or downhill, you always aimed below the target to compensate f
or the angle of the trajectory. Bracing his back against the wall of the chimney, Torrance unslung his Thompson and fired a burst, aiming at the NCO’s feet. The NCO cried out, dancing a brief jig before sprawling on the ground. The rest of the Japanese ran back into the cover of the cave.

  Torrance slung the Thompson from his shoulder and resumed climbing. He missed his footing and slipped down, for one gut-wrenching moment thinking he must surely fall all the way. He managed to jam a foot against a rock before he fell too far, grazing his knee in the process. He clung there for a moment, his innards still churning with fright, until a shot from below reminded him he did not have all day.

  Up and up he climbed, until his arms and thighs ached from the strain and his fingers were bloody from clinging to the rock face. The Japanese continued to shoot at him and the others sporadically, taking it in turns to emerge from the cavern, squeeze off a hastily aimed shot or two, then run back into the cave before anyone returned fire. They showed no inclination to climb up in pursuit; Torrance would have preferred it if they had, because they could not shoot and climb at the same time. At least they were lousy shots.

  Towards the top of the sloping chimney, mountain ferns grew in profusion. In places Torrance had to push his way through, not entirely sure of what he was going to find on the other side, but at least the fronds gave him something to cling to. He glanced down, and at once wished he had not. Jesus, that’s a bloody long way to fall…

  One more ledge to climb up. No matter how hard he tried, he could not quite reach it. But there was no sign of Sheridan or Kerr, so they must have managed it somehow.

  Sheridan appeared above him. ‘Need a hand?’

  ‘If you’re offering…’

  They clasped hands, and Sheridan helped to haul him up over the ledge. Above, there was a gully, the bottom of which was… well, not level ground, but sloping so shallowly it looked like a level plain compared to what had gone before. And once they were over the ledge, they were out of sight of anyone below, which meant they were out of the line of fire. Torrance’s conscience getting the better of him, he turned around to provide covering fire for MacLeod, Rossi and Grant. One by one, they climbed up through the ferns, and he gripped them each by the hand to help them over the ledge, just as Sheridan had helped him over it.

  ‘Good of you to wait for us!’ Rossi sneered.

  ‘And look at the thanks I get for it!’

  There were a few more rocks to scramble over, and then they were amongst the trees above, the ground still sloping, but child’s play in comparison to the climb so far. Bloody hell, we made it! Still, Torrance would have nightmares about that climb for the rest of his life.

  He rested with his hands on his knees, one kneecap crusting with blood where he had grazed it. Sheridan and the five Argylls were grubby with sweat and dust from the exertion of the climb and had their shares of bruises and grazes, but miraculously no serious injuries. Standing further up the slope, Kerr gestured impatiently for them to follow. ‘Come on, let’s go!’

  They had to hack their way through thick undergrowth: as far as Torrance could see, this was virgin jungle; perhaps no man had come this way since the dawn of time. They clambered over a saddle between two peaks and descended a steep valley on the other side, picking their way tentatively down between the trees. As far as they had climbed up, the descent seemed to go on for ever and ever.

  Reaching the foot of the valley, they gave the cliffs to their left a wide berth, circling around to the south once more. After three hours of marching across plantations, they suddenly came across a tarmac road. There was no traffic heading in either direction.

  ‘This must be the Trunk Road,’ said Torrance.

  ‘Thank heavens!’ Sheridan began following the road south.

  Torrance glanced at his watch. It was already past noon: with any luck they should reach Kuala Lumpur by half-past two; three o’clock at the latest.

  ‘Doc!’ he called.

  She stopped and turned back. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Sooner or later, a vehicle’s gonna come down this road. Problem is, we don’t know if it’ll be a British vehicle or a Jap one. And if it’s a Jap one, we may not realise it until they’ve got a good look at us. So we’ll march through the rubber on a parallel route, about a hundred yards that way.’

  Grimacing, she nodded. ‘I’m sorry. How stupid of me.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to deliver a footling breech with a prolapsed umbilical and an ant-eater… what was it?’

  She smiled. ‘Anterior presentation.’

  ‘Yeah, one of them.’

  They marched through the trees for another half an hour, until they came to a river. It was too deep to ford, and he glanced towards the road, wondering if the bridge he could see was still intact and if they could risk using it, when he noticed some men working at the far end.

  Kerr saw them too. ‘Turbans! Those are our lads!’

  ‘Not so fast, Primsie!’ said Torrance. ‘Remember how the Japs pretended to be Punjabis at Jitra? Let’s not take any chances, eh?’

  Walking along the riverbank, they approached the bridge cautiously. Reaching the north end, Torrance realised the men were sepoys of the Bombay Sappers and Miners, getting ready to blow the bridge. They had drilled holes in the tarmac and were wiring up the gelignite charges. He broke into a run.

  ‘Wait! Hold up, lads!’ He waved his arms over his head.

  Startled, the sappers reached for their rifles, then relaxed when they saw Torrance was white. They stared wide-eyed as five Argylls and a woman jogged across the bridge towards them.

  ‘Is this the front line?’ asked Kerr.

  The senior sapper present – a big, bearded, barrel-chested havildar with curling mustachios – looked him up and down. ‘I do not know, corporal,’ he said, not hesitating to remind Kerr who outranked whom here.

  ‘But our lads are still in Kuala Lumpur, are they no’?’

  ‘Not many. Most have withdrawn.’

  ‘What about the Argylls? Twelfth Brigade, Eleventh Division?’ he added, when the havildar continued to stare at him blankly.

  ‘I believe they pulled out yesterday. And now if you will excuse me, we are going to blow this bridge.’ The havildar pointed to where a lorry was parked by the roadside a couple of hundred yards away. ‘You will be safe once you are past that lorry, but please hurry – for all I know, the Japanese army may come down this road at any moment.’

  ‘Aye… aye, of course.’

  Torrance and his companions jogged down the road to wait by the lorry and watched as the sappers blew up the bridge.

  ‘Any chance of a lift to Kuala Lumpur?’ Kerr asked the havildar when the sappers reached their lorry.

  ‘We are not going to Kuala Lumpur.’ The havildar climbed up to the cab. ‘We have orders to blow up three more bridges this afternoon before we rejoin our unit, and our road takes us nowhere near Kuala Lumpur – otherwise I should be delighted to give you a lift. You will do better to go there on foot. I believe there are still some units in the city who might be able to help you. Good luck to you.’

  ‘Aye, same to you, pal.’

  The havildar made a signal to the driver, and the lorry started up and headed down the road, turning off at a junction just a hundred yards away.

  ‘Of course, you know what this means,’ said Rossi.

  ‘Yeah – we’re walking to Kuala Lumpur,’ said Torrance. ‘What’s new?’

  ‘It means we’re now probably the only British troops between Kuala Lumpur and the Jap army.’

  ‘That’s a cheering thought. Oh, well, at least there’s a blown bridge between us and them now. That should buy us a few hours.’

  ‘Aye, mebbe. The Japs don’t seem to have too much lead in their trousers when it comes to repairing bridges, though but.’

  It was a long, hot and wearisome walk into Kuala Lumpur beneath a remorseless sun which the hard tarmac only seemed to reflect back at them. Every mile or
so they passed a car or a lorry that had been abandoned by the roadside and pushed into the ditch, either smashed up, burned out, or both. Vast columns of black smoke rose from the verdant countryside where the retreating British were burning supplies of rubber, petrol, anything the Japanese might put to use. The whole country looked like a vision of the apocalypse.

  By the time they had walked perhaps halfway to Kuala Lumpur, the city was visible in the distance: the clock tower over the government offices, the onion dome of the Municipal Works Department. Torrance saw more plumes of smoke rising here and there from the streets, and hoped it was the authorities destroying stores to prevent them from falling into the hands of the Japanese, rather than evidence of fighting in the streets.

  Hearing the growl of a lorry behind them, he turned, half-expecting to see a Japanese army lorry, but it was a Marmon-Herrington and did not have any rising-sun flags to show it had been commandeered by the enemy.

  The five Argylls all crowded the roadside, trying to thumb down the driver with exaggerated arm movements. The lorry did not even slow. They caught a glimpse of a non-com at the wheel and an officer in a peaked cap beside him in the cab, both studiously avoiding the gaze of the party by the road.

  ‘Bastards!’ Grant roared after them.

  ‘You should’ve flashed a bit of leg,’ Torrance told Sheridan. ‘It worked for Claudette Colbert.’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’ she retorted, as quick as a flash. ‘It worked for Stan Laurel, too.’

  By the time they reached the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur, they were part of a great crowd of refugees wearily trudging their way into the city: mostly Tamils and Chinese, but a few white people here and there, some of them weighed down with suitcases, others pushing all their worldly possessions in handcarts or perambulators. Many houses in the suburbs had been reduced to rubble by air raids.

  Torrance had spent the best part of a forty-eight-hour pass in Kuala Lumpur a year ago and had liked what he had seen of the city, much more than he liked Singapore. He was no expert in architecture, but even he could see that while Singapore looked like an attempt to plonk a modern English city down on an island in the middle of the tropics, Kuala Lumpur – while keeping the feel of a clean, modern city with broad streets and green parks – at the same time felt properly foreign with onion domes and Moorish windows on its public buildings. One of the reasons he had joined the army was to see something of the world, and he did not understand the point of going abroad if it was going to look just like England when you got there.