Prisoner from Penang: The moving sequel to The Pearl of Penang

by Clare Flynn

  He snorted. ‘No, mate, they live out in the bush. They get their news when they leave the station and go into town for supplies. And before you ask, that’s only every few months. We’re fifty miles from the nearest town.’ He grinned. ‘I could well see them before this letter gets there. But just in case I don’t, there’s no need to give the old girl sleepless nights worrying about me. And Dad’ll take it bad too. You can’t work a sheep station with a missing arm.’

  There was no trace of self-pity about that young man. His future had been ruined by a mortar bomb and yet he was determined to remain cheerful – or at least to present a cheerful face to the outside world.

  ‘What will you do, when you get back to Australia, if you can’t work with sheep?’

  ‘God knows. I’ll worry about that when the time comes. Maybe I’ll find a girl who isn’t too picky, and we can open a bar somewhere. I’ll count the money and she can serve the beers.’ He grinned and gave me a wink. ‘What about you, Miss Mary? Looks like you’ve got yourself a fella.’ He nodded at my engagement ring.

  ‘Missing in action. RAF. Shot down over Penang.’

  I swallowed down the tears. I hadn’t allowed myself to cry for Frank yet, believing that if I did, it would be admitting there was no hope.

  ‘Sorry, Mary. That’s rough. Those RAF and RAAF boys were incredibly brave, flying planes that were only fit for the scrapheap. You should be very proud of your fiancé.’

  I swallowed again. ‘As your parents will be of you.’

  ‘Maybe. But I doubt it. They didn’t want me to join up. But no one’s going to call me a coward or a bludger. No chance. With a bit of luck, I’ll get out alive. Not in one piece, but alive’ll do. I lost some good mates in the fighting here. I’ve had enough.’

  Charlie gasped and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

  ‘Can I get you something? Shall I call a nurse?’

  He shook his head and forced a smile. ‘It’s the arm. It hurts like hell. As if it was still there. Terrible pain in my fingers. Only I haven’t got any fingers.’ He grinned at me, but I could tell he was suffering. ‘Don’t worry, Mary. It’ll pass.’

  ‘Shall we leave the letter until another time? I can come back after I’ve done the other chaps.’

  ‘No. We’re done. That’s all I want to say.’

  I turned to go, then something struck me. ‘Won’t your parents wonder why the letter isn’t in your handwriting? Won’t they guess something’s wrong?’

  He gave a chuckle. ‘I doubt they’ve ever seen my handwriting. Not a lot of call for it when you’re rounding up sheep all day.’

  That evening when I got back to the hotel, I found Veronica Leighton waiting for me in the lobby. She was sipping a gin sling and idly flipping through the pages of a magazine. My heart lurched. She must have heard news.

  Veronica looked up and saw me, throwing the magazine aside and patting the sofa beside her. ‘How did you get on at the hospital?’ she asked.

  ‘Fine,’ I said, not wanting to engage in small talk with a woman I still loathed. Then, relenting – she had after all found me a hotel room and work – I added, ‘All they had me do was write letters home for servicemen who are unable to write themselves. Not as important as driving an ambulance I suppose, or nursing those poor chaps.’

  Veronica ignored the intended barb and said, ‘An ambulance is no more difficult to drive than a car.’ Her lips tightened. ‘I have bad news for you I’m afraid, Mary.’

  I nodded, knowing what was coming and willing myself not to break down in front of Veronica. If I’d managed to control my tears until now, I could manage a little longer.

  ‘Flight Lieutenant Francis James Hyde-Underwood was shot down over the Strait of Malacca on the morning of December the 9th. I understand they got his fuel tanks and the plane exploded. He would have died instantly. I’m frightfully sorry, darling.’ She touched my arm with her hand, but I brushed it away.

  ‘Thank you. I appreciate you finding out for me. I knew he was dead, but I had to be sure.’ I got up.

  ‘Those boys were incredibly brave, but they never stood a chance. The airfield at Butterworth was completely wiped out. And we all know those aeroplanes hadn’t a hope against the Japanese ones. Too slow to climb. No speed to get out of trouble. It’s a bloody disgrace. Apparently, there are some Hurricanes on the way. Too bloody late now. If it’s any consolation, my contact told me your chap gave it all he had. Seems to have been a popular fellow.’

  I didn’t want to listen to Veronica’s eulogy for the man I loved. Not after the way she’d tried to flirt with him under my nose. I was glad she’d taken the trouble to find out for me, but it wouldn’t stop me hating her with a passion that surprised even myself.

  ‘Any news of your father?’ she asked, giving the impression she was actually interested but, knowing Veronica, it was more likely that she wanted to move away from the topic of Frank.

  ‘No. And I’ve no idea how he’s going to find us. He’s driving down in Reggie Hyde-Underwood’s car but there’s been no word. I imagine the roads are frightfully clogged up.’

  ‘The most likely place to find out is Robinson’s. Everyone’s going there to find each other. If he’s not there it’ll be Raffles or the Swimming Club.’

  Veronica was referring to Singapore’s department store, Robinson’s, whose restaurant and tearoom had always been a must on the itinerary of any visitor to the city. The place had taken a hit from a Japanese bomb less than two weeks earlier on December 8th but, according to Veronica, had opened its doors for business as usual the following day.

  ‘Your best bet,’ she said, cheerily, ‘is to let the manager in each of those places know where you’re staying, but I’d also stop by Robinson’s in person every day to make sure.’

  ‘I can’t understand why he isn’t here yet.’ I was dreading telling Mum that there was still no word.

  Veronica waved a hand airily. ‘I suppose it depends on whether they have to keep taking cover to avoid Japanese bombers. Not to mention roadblocks and traffic. Don’t forget the army will be clogging up the roads too. I don’t think you can expect to see him for several days.’

  She got up, straightened her skirt and gave me a bright smile. ‘Chin up, Mary.’

  Then she was gone, her signature Shalimar scent lingering behind her.

  Free at last to cry about losing Frank, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t even shed any tears when I got to the bedroom. I didn’t want to do that in front of Mum when her own nerves were so fragile. Telling her that Dad might not be here for a while brought on another weeping fit from her. It was up to me to keep calm and stay strong. I needed to be cheerful and try to sustain her spirits.

  But later, once Mum was asleep, I lay in the blackout-darkened bedroom and prayed that Frank’s death hadn’t been prolonged or painful. I thought of him, trapped in a burning cockpit, plunging through thick smoke towards the sea. How long would it have taken for him to die? Would he have known he’d ‘copped it’ as he used to say? That he was ‘gone for a Burton’ – the odd English expression he and the other pilots used so often when a colleague was shot down?

  People say your whole life flashes before your eyes in the moment of dying. I was such a tiny portion of Frank’s life, timewise, yet I hope a very large part in importance to him. He had been everything to me, so I hope it had been true for him too.

  That night, I finally wept silent tears until the pillow was soaked under my head and, all cried out, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Dad had still not arrived by Christmas. It was a miserable affair that year. On Christmas Day, Hong Kong surrendered, a terrible humiliation for the British Empire in the east. The Japanese were pushing the Allied forces further down the Malay peninsula to Singapore. What had once been a bastion, an impregnable fortress, the symbol of British power, was another fragile skittle waiting to fall.

  The disastrous collapse of Hong Kong was a shock to the residents of Singapore. The British there, and until rece
ntly further up the peninsula, had largely ignored the war and refused to recognise the Japanese threat.

  British women in particular had been living in ignorance and continuing with their pampered expatriate way of life – enjoying the sunshine, the parties, the leisure pursuits and servants to do virtually everything from childcare to catering. And among the men there was a conspiracy of self-delusion. It was simply unthinkable to imagine the British and our mighty empire falling prey to the inferior numbers of the invading Japanese.

  I’m certain this inbuilt prejudice and innate arrogance explains why the military leadership was so hesitant in acting promptly and decisively to cut short the Japanese advance, even though the Allies significantly outnumbered the enemy. There was also a lack of preparation – in part due to bad planning and in part to the lack of the necessary aircraft and anti-tank guns. Underpinning all this was a deeply-rooted belief among the British that the Japanese were inferior. But to me, at the time, it was just one great big enormous mess.

  As I was to discover as the war proceeded, that ingrained belief about the racial superiority of white men in general and the British in particular, was all too evident to the Japanese and may well account for the enthusiasm with which they perpetrated their atrocities. Bringing the proud British low, treating them with the height of cruelty and depravity, was a way of drumming home that the status quo had well and truly changed.

  In early January, Dad finally turned up. Reggie Hyde-Underwood’s motorcar had got a flat tyre, which caused a significant delay, as the spare was missing, probably stolen. It struck me as deeply ironic that their progress was halted for the absence of a rubber tyre, when Reggie was a rubber planter and all around were acres of rubber trees and abandoned latex processing factories.

  As Veronica had predicted, Reggie had discovered our whereabouts via Robinson’s and dropped Dad off at our hotel.

  Until I saw my father standing there in the hotel lobby in front of me, I hadn’t realised how worried I’d been about his absence. I’d been so busy putting a brave face on for Mum that I hadn’t allowed my own concerns for him to surface. I flung my arms around him and hugged him tight in relief.

  Behind Dad, I saw Reggie was waiting. I thanked him for bringing my father safely to Singapore and remembered I needed to tell him about the confirmation of his brother’s death. After Dad went up to the room to find Mum, I broke the news.

  Reggie closed his eyes for a moment, and his mouth set hard as he tried to control his emotions. ‘I knew there was practically no chance that he’d survived, but I kept on hoping.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said.

  Reggie leant towards me and gave my hand a squeeze.

  ‘I couldn’t help thinking that maybe he’d managed to bail out and been picked up by a boat.’ He noticed the ring on my left hand. ‘So, he asked you to marry him?’

  I nodded, tears welling in my throat. ‘Two days before he was killed. The last time I saw him.’

  ‘I’m so terribly sorry, Mary. What a bloody mess.’ He looked down, his eyes fixed on his knees. ‘I’ve just heard my wife and son have already left Singapore.’ He looked glum. ‘Not even a chance to say goodbye.’

  ‘You’ll go after them though? To Australia?’

  ‘As soon as I can. But men are expected to stay for the foreseeable. Do the right thing. See off the Yellow Peril. Anyway, I’ve things to sort out here first. Banking arrangements for Susan in Australia. That kind of thing. And I’ll have to wait until I hear from her as to where exactly she is. No one here seems to have a bloody clue what’s happening. Meanwhile, I’m going to do what I can for civil defence.’

  He studied my face. ‘Get yourself and your parents out of here, Mary. As soon as you can. I don’t have a good feeling about our ability to hold out. And not a lot of confidence in the idiots making all the decisions.’

  I didn’t tell him that, without Frank, I no longer cared whether I lived or died. Instead, I muttered that we would leave as soon as I could manage it but meanwhile, I was making myself useful as a VAD.

  Reggie was a big bulk of a man, like an unkempt bear, so very different from Frank that no one would ever have imagined them to be brothers. Yet there was something about his manner, the timbre of his voice and the kindness in his eyes that made my tears well up again.

  There was an awkward silence. We had nothing left to say to each other. I made my excuses and went back up to the hotel room to join my parents.

  2

  Flight from Singapore

  Like most of the civilian men, Dad was expected to get involved with the civil defence efforts. Together with Reggie Hyde-Underwood and many others we had known in Penang: officials, professionals, planters and businessmen – Dad was sent to dig ditches and fortifications on the northern shore of the island.

  When he came back to the hotel after his first stint, I could see he was finding it hard. I glanced at Mum and could tell she saw it too. Dad looked haggard, older than his years, and the dark rings under his eyes indicated his exhaustion. Not a tall man, he appeared visibly shrunken since we’d left Penang.

  ‘Why are you having to dig trenches? I thought they’d been building up the defences for months if not years.’ Mum sounded irritable.

  Dad sighed. ‘They built them all facing the sea. They reckoned that was the only way the Japs would attack.’

  Mum clasped her throat. ‘I don’t understand. They’ve been saying for ages that Singapore is safe. Why the sudden panic? If the Japs are going to attack by land why didn’t we think of that?’

  ‘I suppose because everyone thought it was impossible,’ I said.

  Dad had experienced first-hand the flight of our troops back down the peninsula. ‘No one dreamt they’d dare to do what they’ve done – land in the north and travel south on fleets of bicycles.’

  ‘And we can’t stop a bunch of bicycles?’ Mum was incredulous.

  ‘Not when they have squadrons of aircraft bombing the path in front of them.’

  Four days after Christmas, nightly bombing began and continued every night for a week. Mum’s frayed nerves were at breaking point and it was only the relief of having Dad with us that kept her going. I was glad my hospital duties took me away from her. I tried to persuade her to volunteer herself, but she’d agree then kept putting it off. I suspect she didn’t want to have to face how bad the situation was in the hospital, where every day more wounded men arrived for treatment.

  In our hotel, the walls shook, our beds rocked, the glass in the window juddered. My fear was in contrast to the reassuring bluster of most of my compatriots.

  During January, more and more people flooded onto the island from the peninsula, and military reinforcements arrived by sea.

  Too little too late.

  The ships that brought them through the heavily mined harbour, unloaded, then departed again, bearing women and children. Although, even by mid-January, there were relatively few takers and many ships left half empty. Looking back, I can see this was a contributing factor to the subsequent tragedies that could have been avoided with less braggadocio and more caution.

  Dad constantly nagged Mum and me to get out of Singapore, but my mother wouldn’t contemplate being parted from Dad and by then I was so absorbed in the work I was doing, that I would have felt guilty abandoning my job as a VAD.

  I’d met so many young men, mostly British, but also Australians. Most, like Charlie, were stoical about their suffering but there were one or two who cried when they thought no one could see them, their lives changed irrevocably by their injuries and their experience of battle. Home must have seemed impossibly far away. For me to abandon them would have felt cowardly and cruel.

  And to be honest, I didn’t relish the idea of leaving Singapore or Malaya. My home since childhood had been Penang. England held no appeal for me. Why leave one battle scene to walk right into another?

  Most of those who did leave headed to Australia – it was close and, so far, safe. But, to be honest, our decis
ion to remain was typical of the majority of women in the colony – even many of those with children. The idea of leaving never entered our heads. How could we possibly scuttle away and leave the men behind?

  Most mems had built their adult lives here in the Straits Settlements, and the concept of the life we had always known collapsing was simply unthinkable. We were doughty women of the British Empire and we intended to stand our ground.

  The nurses I worked among were heroines. They were a mixture of Queen Alexandra nurses – the QAs, Australian military nurses, and civilian nurses. Some were long-time Singaporeans and others recent volunteers – but all were models of courage and professionalism. I met one or two who had chosen to come east soon after the war began, fleeing the bombs and rationing back in Britain for an adventure in an exciting and exotic location. They had little dreamt that the war would catch them up out here, but I never saw a single one of them flinch from the challenge.

  As for Veronica, I went out of my way to avoid her. That wasn’t hard. Although we were both working as VADs, our paths rarely crossed. We did come near one afternoon when I was hurrying down a corridor in the hospital and saw her talking to one of the porters. As always, she appeared to be flirting with the man – a Eurasian who can’t have been more than twenty. Just in time I ducked behind a pillar then reversed my steps and took the long way round to where I was headed.

  As the Japanese moved inexorably towards us down the long thin peninsula, morale in the colony began to dip. At last, people began to acknowledge that we British were not invincible after all.

  On 11th February 1942, at the hospital, the Principal Matron addressed all the nursing staff and the volunteers. Reputed to be a stern but kind woman, I had never had any involvement with her. She stood on a stool and spoke in a firm and businesslike manner.