Escape to Pagan

by Brian Devereux

  I remember this occasion well. When my mother, grandmother and Mrs Rawlings realized the tanks were British, they began looking into small mirrors and running around titivating themselves as best they could. The man in the Jeep (Frank) had a bald head and seemed to have taken a fancy to my mother; he was always trying to get her on her own but this was difficult as she was carefully watched by Grandmother and me. I was given a tin of jam and more sweets than the other boy because I was barefoot and dressed in my mother’s old torn chemise (the other boy was well dressed and shod); his mother was quick to complain. Later that day I punched him.

  I also remember the soldiers stopping to brew some tea. My grandmother and mother were standing nearby eating jam out of a tin watching a soldier prepare to light a fire. He then proceeded to instruct grandmother on the correct way to light a fire, “never use green wood,” he knowingly added, “it will give your position away, is difficult to light and provides less heat.” He was lecturing the queen of firemaking. My grandmother said nothing.

  CHAPTER 25

  Winter’s Bite

  JAPAN

  “Jack always told me after the war that the winters in Japan were substantially colder than those of Britain – even colder than winters in the north of England where he was born. The freezing winds in Japan came from the Russian artic and Siberia. All the prisoners were underweight and their clothing was far too thin. Their footwear was falling apart, despite having an ex-cobbler who belonged to the Hong Kong Volunteers; he did his best to mend their worn boots. Canvas had to take the place of leather, which was hard to come by in Japan. Some men with small feet managed to squeeze into the Japanese Tabi, rubber and canvas boots. Prisoners were given mining helmets made of cardboard. Often men went barefoot. Jack said standing outside while waiting to be counted in the sleet or rain was far worse than the beatings they occasionally received for minor offences. But Nagoya was not a brutal camp compared to others, and the work quotas were not excessive. Jack was in charge of a small group of Royal Scot prisoners.

  The Japanese were always disgusted at the amount of swear words available to the Anglo-Saxon tongue. Their race had to be content with just two much repeated exclamations: ‘Buggero’ and ‘Damme’ both meaning basically fool, idiot and no good. We constantly heard these words bellowed when the young Japanese soldiers were being trained at Tada u.

  “Jack said the worst offenders for bad language were the Middlesex Regiment [Cockneys]; the Scots tended to swear less. Once the Japanese guards at the camp understood what English swear words meant; they would shake their heads and walk away disgusted or clout the offender. Their verbal culture was strictly moral and their taste in Japanese female beauty refined.

  “Some of the Jap guards soon realized that there was no love lost between the Scots and the English and used this to get more work done. At one camp [Tateyama] the Japanese guards and civilian workers were always interested in a prisoner’s marital state and how many children they had; over three offspring usually earned them a cheap Japanese cigarette. A way to gain a little kudos with their guards and foremen and have a rest at the same time was to ask them (at the right moment) if they were married. This would usually make them proudly produce photographs of their families. Another way to prolong a conversation and rest periods was to admire the guard’s handwriting.”

  According to the Sergeant, the prisoners soon learnt that while looking at their po-faced wife and their grim-looking children, who stared back at the camera with intent hostility (it is almost impossible to find a smiling photo of a Nipponese family of that era), it was advisable for the prisoner to gently suck air through the teeth in admiration of his wife. But a prisoner had to be careful; too much sucking in of breath when looking at the guard’s wife could easily be mistaken for carnal lust, earning the prisoner a clout around the ear.

  “I believe it was here that Jack and the men from Tateyama met the veteran wrinkled faced guard called Kanamura known to the prisoners by a rude name. Sergeant Kanamura was well-respected by the other guards and even the officers and NCOs in the POW camp because of his long service. Kanamura took a liking to Jack. Perhaps it was because Jack took his punishment without flinching; also both soldiers had been seriously wounded in battle and had the visible scars to prove it. Kanamura spoke a little English, he was also an accomplished mime actor and would use this talent to describe past battles against the Russians. The veteran guard had seen active service in Manchuria, China, the invasion of Burma and was seriously wounded in the face and neck at the Sittang River by a Gurkha’s knife.

  “Sergeant Kanamura often appeared from the gloom of the mine’s tunnels the worse for drink and had to be handled carefully; he was usually in the mood to boast of his past battles or to beat a prisoner who caught his attention. At such times the civilian foreman and other workers quickly made themselves scarce because of Kanamura’s unpredictability; this surprisingly included the owner of the mine. They all had a healthy respect for the veteran, so strong was the army grip on the civilian population.

  “Jack was always a good listener when Kanamura wanted to talk. The better he listened the longer the tale, the longer the tale the longer the rest from the back-breaking work. The right side of Jack’s face was paralyzed and his lower eye lid drooped significantly causing tears to trickle down his cheek at regular intervals, giving the impression he was crying [this problem continued after the war despite two operations at Roehampton]. Perhaps these tears gave the impression that he was moved by Kanamura’s tales. Japanese men were not ashamed of tears when occasion beckoned. They have been known to cry at the beauty of a butterfly’s wing. Jack’s crocodile tears added a touch of sincerity and bonhomie, especially when brave deeds were recounted and photos of family were produced. A few tears and just the right amount of sucking in of breath at the beauty of his scowling dame and her plump-faced children could end in a small gift or a cigarette.”

  During the above the POWs in Jack’s work detail remained silent leaning on their picks and shovels in the dim shadows of the tunnels, conserving their limited energy.

  “On other occasions, the deep sword cut on the back of Jack’s neck fascinated the sword-loving Kanamura, who it seems was quite an expert at the art of decapitation, having honed his skills to a high degree in China.”

  The Japanese soldiers often sent pictures home of these events; a “wish you were here” kind of thing. Sergeant Kanamura would often produce photographs of these events, showing Chinese people being used for bayonet practice and beheadings. As manpower in Japan decreased, more women were conscripted to work in the mines.

  Tam and Willie often laughed at the thought of Nipponese Annie, an attractive Japanese woman they named after a female Glaswegian music hall entertainer. “Nipponese Annie” sometimes came to the mine to work for reasons unknown. It seems that any exertion Annie made, even bending down to pick up a small object, caused her to have loud flatulence. At first all the prisoners thought Annie was mimicking the sound orally to amuse them. But by closely watching her baggy trousers every time she bent over, their hypothesis was proved to be incorrect. Scrotum-face, the old crinkled skinned guard, used to walk away disgusted: “this woman no good-a” he would announce bringing a handkerchief to his nose.

  “Jack admired the Japanese ingenuity when working in the mine in Nagasaki; not having the proper tools or equipment did not seem to worry them, they always improvised. The Japanese were on the lookout for skilled workers. All the prisoners were given forms to state their previous occupations and skills. Jack claimed he was a ‘steak and kidney pudding tester’. This was the food he missed the most during his imprisonment; I used to make it every week for him in England when I had learned to cook. I remembered my mother’s recipe; it was also my father’s favourite.”

  These steak and kidney puddings were my favourite too. Mum always used the best steak, cutting away all the fat. She used lambs’ kidneys, boiling them first to remove the strong taste and cutting out all the small ve
ntricles. She would beam with pride when dad said “That was lovely, Mrs D.” But by far the most popular pre-war occupation claimed by the prisoners was “Brothel Inspector”, or “Chief Gooseberry Shaver” at Hartley’s Jam Factory.

  Little did the Sergeant realize that after the war when he was promoted to RSM of the 2nd Battalion Royal Scots that prisoner and guard roles would be reversed. Under his control at Fort Dufferin were over two hundred Japanese troops including officers. Some Japanese were awaiting the death sentence by hanging. RSM Devereux and other soldiers who were former prisoners of Nippon would be present to watch them die. They all went to their deaths with a resigned composure and dignity. Occasionally, some diehard would shout “Banzai” just before the trap door gave way. To deny them this last gesture of defiance, the Sergeant Major made sure the trap door was opened as soon as the prisoner stood on it.

  Some of these soldiers, consumed by an overwhelming shame at being alive, chose not to return to their cherry blossom islands on release. As far as their families were concerned they had become “non-persons”, the greatest insult to any Japanese man. Many chose Thailand as their new home. Others found ingenious and sometimes extremely painful ways to kill themselves. The most popular method of suicide in Fort Dufferin was cutting the jugular vein with glass during the night while their comrades watched with vague interest. When a shard of glass was not available, one Japanese soldier bit through his own wrist to sever his artery.

  I sometimes accompanied the RSM on his tours of the British Military Jail and then the Japanese jail on Sundays while Mum entertained friends and relatives. He used to stride into the jail with his swagger stick under his arm and me following behind. As soon as the Japanese prisoners saw him they would jump off their beds and stand to attention. It was compulsory that the Japanese prisoners wore only their traditional fundoshis which made it difficult for them to conceal weapons to harm themselves. All prisoners would stand stiff upright and bow deeply to the RSM. I would stand with the two armed guards of the Royal Scots while he made a quick inspection, poking here and there with his baton. He would then order them (in Japanese) to stand at ease. His Japanese was quite proficient by then. I never witnessed any violence by the RSM or the guards towards the Japanese prisoners. Bullying was commonplace by the senior Japanese NCOs. Murder was also suspected among the Japanese prisoners although it was often passed off as suicide by their comrades.

  In their leisure time they kept themselves busy making various ingenious items. I was given some beautifully made toys by the Japanese prisoners including a semi-automatic pistol made entirely out of different kinds of wire and a spring. It fired nine small perfectly made cylindrical hollow paper pellets (made from Players packets). Once the magazine was loaded and the firing mechanism cocked it fired a pellet by way of a spring, while another pellet was loaded into the chamber ready. It was excellent for killing flies at the range of two feet. This toy weapon was as reliable as the Belgian .22 semi-automatic rifle I later owned.

  CHAPTER 26

  Liberation

  BURMA

  “Before long we were boarding military lorries with our pathetic possessions. According to Frank, this fighting force was hoping to reach Meiktila and then Prome, but we would be dropped off somewhere suitable on the way. The next day we entered greener country and finally found ourselves on a metalled road. In the afternoon we crossed a shallow river in a duck [DUKW – an American amphibious truck] and came to a residential area with nice looking brick and wooden two storey houses that had overgrown gardens. Here the convoy stopped for the night. Frank asked me if I fancied stretching my legs by the river; before I could answer, my mother said ‘no.’”

  The bald Major, I remember, was always trying to get rid of me when Grandmother was not around. But I stuck to my mother like glue to a blanket. Grandmother was not slow to notice this and openly disapproved of the Major’s attentions.

  “We were dropped off with all the tinned food we could carry and told to occupy any house of our choice. Frank came with us. We were so tired we took the first house in the street; it looked nice from the outside. There was no water in the taps but finding water would no longer be a problem as the monsoon had already started. This house actually had a double bed and a ceramic bath filled with small round Japanese beer bottles. I think it had previously been used by Japanese officers as there were some round wooden bathing tubs in the back garden. This was a big overgrown space with nice fruiting fig trees in it. Even though it was still light we all went straight to bed. It was wonderful to sleep on a soft sprung mattress again. Frank came around late that night but my mother would not let him in Poor man – he had been so good to us. It was so nice to feel safe again. When we woke up the following day you were missing; you had sneaked out while we were sleeping. We could have murdered you. We were told by the British soldiers before they left that there were still many explosive devices lying around the area like grenades and live ammunition.

  “Running outside we found you playing in the rain with some Burmese children. Later we met their families, who had been civil servants before the war. They informed us that the Japanese who had been stationed here had gone to defend Meiktila. The sounds of fighting could still be heard in the distance; the war was not as yet over.

  “I hoped Jack was still alive somewhere. I never gave up hope and prayed we would soon be together again.

  “The gardens of these big houses were so overgrown, and as the monsoon rains came down in sheets it was a dangerous time for snakes. Following the afternoon rains, at dusk, the whole street became alive with fireflies of all different colours. All you children used to run up and down chasing them – even my mother said that she had never seen such a wonderful display of colour. You were a little bugger and always disappeared at mealtimes hiding sometimes in a big rain barrel full of water with just your eyes sticking out. One day we were surprised to find you playing with a pretty little blonde girl called Rosemary. She wore plaits in her hair and a flowered dress. Rosemary looked sad and was always hungry. She usually appeared at mealtimes; Mother thought she had worms but she was a sweet little thing and we always fed you together. Rosemary never spoke much. I noticed when she left our house she climbed into the overgrown garden next door and disappeared among the trees and bushes. I always thought she was looking for some fruit to eat and the next time she visited, I told her to be careful. We never did meet her parents or relatives; we did not even know exactly where she lived. My mother thought she was Dutch.

  “I only heard the sad story of Rosemary later. Her father was dead and her mother worked for the Japanese in the local club. Rosemary’s mother was usually drunk and had little time for her daughter, who lived off scraps given to her by the Burmese staff. One night Rosemary’s mother killed herself in the garden next door. This little blonde girl was climbing the fence to visit her dead mother’s unburied remains. Poor little Rosemary – if only we’d known …”

  I remember Rosemary well – with her blues eyes and fair hair she was just like my uncle Victor. She would try to eat anything I said was edible. We both used to get into the big rain barrel and look out at the world. During the day someone’s white albino rooster used to strut around the overgrown street as if it owned it. For some reason he always took exception to Rosemary’s presence and would attack her on the way to our house. Both my guardians used to laugh as Rosemary came screeching towards us with a bright red face, just like the rooster who was close behind. One day Rosemary did not appear.

  “The war was still raging in Burma; refugees came and went trying to escape the fighting and the retreating Japanese Armies. The Japanese troops were still in Meiktila and as far north as Shwebo. Large groups of Japanese were escaping into the hills and jungle trying to regroup. This would be a dangerous time to meet them. Around a fortnight later some British army trucks appeared and we were told to board them quickly with all our possessions.”

  Mother was very proud of the fact that we were now classed as Br
itish Military Personnel and we would no longer be responsible for feeding ourselves and finding our own accommodation. We were moved another four times because of the fighting. I can still remember the varied accommodation. Each new location had an incident that sticks in my mind. Some of these incidents were rather painful.

  The second house we stayed in consisted of one single room and a cooking area. These terraced houses built of timber and brick stood on brick stanchions. The area under the houses had previously been used as a toilet by its former occupants. The stale smell of desiccated human ordure dominated the surroundings and hung like an invisible shroud over these lonely buildings on hot still afternoons. The whole area was in a sea of dry thorn scrub jungle. The only other occupants were a Christian Anglo-Indian family with a daughter older than me. This girl, Teresa, believed in water-babies (or so she said). Noticing I was gullible and that my grandmother always gave me a good slippering for “leaving the shadow of the house,” this girl would approach me (making sure I was alone) and tell me she had just seen water-babies playing in the stream about four hundred yards away along a wide dusty road bordered by thick scrub. I desperately wanted to see a water-baby and intended to catch one and tie a string around its waist.