by David
On 14 and 15 February Digger had to ferry patients from the Cathay Building to St Andrew’s Cathedral. The Cathay Building had been the last location of the 10th AGH. It was a horrible, stinking place that had no water, no toilets and nowhere to dig latrines. Standing nine storeys, it was Singapore’s tallest building.
Although the whole building was plastered with flags bearing red crosses, it nevertheless attracted a full barrage from the Japanese on 14 February – probably because its second and third floors were occupied by the Indian 3rd Corps of Signals. The Australians had objected to combatants being in a non-combatant area but there was no moving them. As with everything in Singapore, the Japanese knew exactly what the situation was.5
The next day the bombing of the hospital continued, forcing Digger to take shelter in the nearby monsoon drain. He did not know it at the time, but that afternoon the documents of surrender were signed by General Arthur Percival.
Digger, crouched in the monsoon drain, didn’t move. When the commotion died down he remained still, allowing his body to relax. He waited for his breathing to return to normal, then carefully put his head above the edge of the drain and looked across the lawn towards the entrance of the cathedral. Already several men were trying to tip over the wreck of the ambulance, and others were hovering nearby with a stretcher. It dawned on him that there was a body under the ambulance, and very probably it was Roy Keily.
As the barrage had started, Roy had indeed dived under the ambulance while Digger had crawled to the drain. Digger could not stop himself thinking that the drain had been the better choice; then he started analysing why it was the better choice, even as he realised he shouldn’t be thinking that way. He had to find out if Roy was under the ambulance and, if he was, what sort of condition he was in.
Digger clambered out of the drain, taking care not to use his burned knees or elbows in the process. He could hear the soft words of his fellow medics echoing off the cathedral wall as they carefully moved Roy onto a stretcher and carried him inside. The back axle of the ambulance had crushed him when it took a direct hit. Roy had suffered head injuries and was unconscious.
Others were emerging from the safety of their hiding places too. They congregated at the entrance to the cathedral, comparing their minor injuries and enquiring about the wounded. Bobby Inman, Digger’s driver mate, and Con Ryan had been badly injured in a shelling incident at St Andrew’s the previous day. Both were taken to the Alexandra Hospital for specialist attention.
Soon word spread that the Allies were negotiating with the enemy. It was close to the end of a day of anger, confusion and terror, but the prevailing emotion was apprehension for the future. There was relief that the fighting was over but the men of the 2/9th Field Ambulance were angry that they’d had to endure the shelling of their non-combatant area. Now it seemed that those responsible for this mess were now talking about surrender. Digger and his mates, although privates, new damn well that although the Allies were ‘negotiating’, in reality they would be doing as they were told.
‘Perhaps they will call it a draw and we can all go home,’ joked one of the medics, but there was little response from his mates.
The Malaya and Singapore campaigns had lasted from 8 December 1941 to 15 February 1942: sixty-nine days. Seven and a half thousand Allied soldiers had been killed in action, and around 11,000 wounded. The Japanese, on the other hand, had lost only 3507 killed and 6150 wounded.
The Australians, whose men comprised fourteen per cent of all Commonwealth forces, had incurred around seventy per cent of the Allied deaths in battle.6 This amazing and sad statistic puts to rest any accusation that the Australians did less than their fair share – a comment made by General Sir Archibald Wavell in his report of the time, which was released publicly in 1993.7
The rest of the afternoon of 15 February 1942 was spent carrying extra beds and bedding from the Adelphi Hotel to the cathedral, where the more seriously wounded men were housed. Digger learned that although the ground floor of the Adelphi was very crowded, there were empty rooms on the first floor. He mentally booked himself in to one for the night.
That evening, after eating what was available, Digger retired to ‘his’ room, attended to his own minor injuries and got into a real bed – with real sheets – for the first time in a long while. He didn’t know what the future held but he knew this would probably be the last bed he would see for a while. In just a couple of minutes, Digger was fast asleep. Still an optimist despite all that had happened, he dreamed of the great times he and his mates had so recently experienced, before the Japanese had arrived to spoil it all.
Digger awoke the next morning at about six a.m. after a very good sleep. He swung his legs to the floor and reached for his tobacco to roll a cigarette. He took in a couple of lungfuls of smoke and savoured his first fag of the day. As a budding medical man, he always wondered why it was that the day’s first cigarette always had a tingling effect on his legs. It was not an unpleasant feeling, and he marvelled at the effect of the smoke or whatever was in it that could cause such an effect.
After a couple more puffs, Digger stood and wandered barefoot onto the balcony. As he continued to smoke, he was surprised when someone wished him a crisp ‘Good morning’ in an unfamiliar accent.
His neighbour in the next room was also out on his balcony, and was engaged in a similar activity. While Digger was half-naked, this man was fully dressed in the uniform of a captain of the IJA. The way each man was dressed seemed to say something about their status – the victor and the vanquished, the master and the slave – but Digger was not yet thinking of such things.
He returned the greeting, and a few pleasantries were exchanged about the weather before they both returned to their respective rooms. Well, well, thought Digger. This might not be so bad after all.
Part 2
The Years of Survival
Chapter 5
Life at Changi
Digger returned to the edge of his bed and leisurely finished his smoke. All his anguish over the death and destruction that had preceded this day fell away as his thoughts turned to the future. He felt grateful that he had survived the terror and chaos, and resolved that he would also survive whatever lay ahead.
This thought comforted him. No matter how bad the future might look, it could never be as bad as the recent past. With that in mind, Digger had a quick wash, got dressed and made his way down to the ground floor and across the lawn, dodging the shell holes from the previous day’s bombardment as he went. Just before he entered the cathedral he looked back at the first-floor balconies of the Adelphi Hotel. There was no sign of the Japanese officer.
The first thing that Digger learned that morning was that Roy Keily had died from his wounds. Poor Roy had never regained consciousness. He was among those – and there were many of them, Digger knew – who had not survived to experience life as a prisoner of war. Thinking about this, Digger decided that, given the choice, he most definitely preferred the POW option.
The Allied surrender had no effect on the work required to look after the hundreds of patients at the cathedral on the morning of 16 February, and Digger busied himself helping patients prepare to face their first day in captivity. Some were dying and accepted the fact; others were still fighting like hell. A great many were simply depressed, especially those who, the day before, believed they had a ticket home. If only the Allies could have held out a little longer. Now, none of them had any idea what was to happen. Being a POW was one thing, but being captive while having a broken leg or a deep flesh wound, which would be very susceptible to infection in this tropical climate, was another thing altogether.
Digger and the other medical orderlies assured their patients that they would all survive, regardless of how close they were to death, how bad their wounds were or the fact they were all prisoners. All the men of the 2/9th Field Ambulance had to remain optimistic in front of the wounded.
As Digger attended to the patients in the cathedral, an order cam
e through that the 2/9th and the 2/10th Field Ambulance units were to proceed immediately with all the sick and wounded to the village of Changi, on the peninsula in the east of Singapore. There they were to set up a hospital. All those who had weapons were ordered to pile them in specific places under Japanese guard, then all the POWs were required to line up in the streets that very afternoon to bow to their captors as they marched past in a victory parade.
By now, the Field Ambulance units were used to transporting their wounded and supplies at a moment’s notice, so this latest move was initiated immediately. Many trips over several days were needed. All the officers of the 2/9th Field Ambulance, along with some men from the other ranks – known as ‘ORs’ – were to accompany the ambulances and patients to Changi. Most ORs, including Digger and Joe, were left to join the other POWs and pay homage to their new masters.
Even though the thought of bowing their heads to the Japanese was bad enough, Digger and Joe were nonetheless very curious to see their captors up close. They hoped to somehow guess at what might be in store for them. They joined the parade that afternoon a few streets away from the cathedral, and stood with their heads bowed as little as they dared.
Some Japanese soldiers walked outside the marching formation; their job was to see to it that all the Allies’ held their heads at a suitable angle of submission. They barked at and jostled anyone they thought was not showing enough deference; a blow to the abdomen with a rifle butt would be delivered to anyone showing any hint of defiance. Digger quickly revised his assessment of the enemy. These Japanese privates certainly did not share the politeness of the officer on the balcony.
That night Joe and Digger tried to sleep in a quiet corner of the now almost empty cathedral. The next morning they joined the thousands of men lining up in the streets to march to Changi.
It was more of a walk than a march, taking them north-east across the city, into the red-light district and up Lavender Street. Here, the girls who, a short time before, had done a roaring trade now lined the streets, some crying and some daring to dart into the ranks of the marchers to deliver sweets and other treats. They understood that the trade from the much poorer Japanese soldiers would not be so good.
Outside the city, as they proceeded through small villages and countryside, many Chinese Malays delivered small gifts of food and money to the soldiers. They knew the danger they were in, being well aware of the Japanese atrocities in China. Word was also out that many Chinese had already been executed in Singapore simply because of their relationship with the British colonial administration.
As a condition of the British surrender, the Japanese had promised to spare the lives of civilians, but they did not adhere to this commitment. Soon everyone knew that the Japanese were arresting and executing any Chinese who had cooperated with the Allies. Digger learned years later that his friend Mr Siawa – the superintendent of police at Port Dickson, with whom he had spent many a pleasant evening – was executed by the Japanese at about this time.
The walk to Changi took five hours. Their destination was a huge area of about twenty-five square kilometres surrounded by the sea to the north, east and south. The land was pleasant, green and undulating, with many trees and shrubs. At the eastern end was the village of Changi. Prior to the war, the peninsula had been the British army’s principal base in Singapore, and so the site boasted extensive and well-constructed military infrastructure. There were three major barracks – Selarang, Roberts and Kitchener – as well as Singapore’s civilian prison, Changi Gaol, and many smaller camps and buildings.
On entering the area, the Australians were ordered to proceed to Selerang Barracks. It was a complex of several three-storey buildings forming a U shape around a concrete barracks square. Joe and Digger grabbed a small area on the ground floor at the end of one of the buildings. There were no beds or anything in the way of furniture, of course, but they knew this was what they had to expect as POWs. They set down their backpacks, which held all they owned in the world, then lay down for a rest and a smoke after the bloody long walk.
For some reason, Digger’s parents were notified at this time that he was ‘missing in action’. Presumably, the authorities did not know who had been killed in action and who taken prisoner. The last letter Digger’s parents had received from him was immediately after the retreat to Singapore. It was not until sixteen months later, in June 1943, that they were at last notified that he was a POW.
Although Digger was accepting of his situation, there were many reasons for complaint. The only problem was that there was no one to complain to – or at least no one who was going to take any action. All their gear, for example – where was it? Soldiers kept everything except for their personal items in a kitbag; Digger’s had gone into the company storerooms when he’d moved from Kota Tinggi to Mersing a few months previously. Most men at Changi had little more than what they stood up in. Digger was relatively well prepared, however. On the morning of 16 February, he’d been able to buy a six-month supply of tobacco and soap.
Morale was generally very low, and some soldiers were simply unable to cope with their situation.
There was a great deal of whingeing, and a few could certainly be described as mentally disturbed. Some refused to or were unable to speak, some were full of self-pity, and others were perpetually sullen and refused any order. One bloke was always masturbating and didn’t seem to care that others could see him – it was a truly pathetic sight.
Some of the men got really very depressed; there were men who died just because they didn’t want to go on. I never got depressed and nor did many others, but everyone is different. Perhaps it was the trauma from fighting, or from not getting home. Perhaps it was just that many people are not meant for war – they are just not the type. They might think they are when they join up, but when it comes to killing or risking your life they are just not in that league. Or perhaps it was because the war was not what they were expecting.
Possibly a few of them would have gone off their heads at home anyway. One guy was so disturbed that when the Jap patrol came through the camp, he would fall in and march behind them. We had to run and take him back. We eventually made him wear a bell so we knew where he was all the time.
Another bloke in our unit stole my dixy – or mess tin – and my mess tools. He didn’t even deny it when I fronted him and asked for them back. He just shrugged his shoulders, so I floored him there and then and took them back. I guess we were all affected by the defeat.
By the time most of the captives had arrived in the Changi area, they totalled approximately 50,000 troops, including British, Australians and Dutch. While the Australians were housed in Selerang Barracks, the British and Dutch were housed at Roberts, Kitchener and in the wooden huts where the Indian troops had originally been housed. Part of Roberts Barracks was eventually converted into a hospital for the Allied sick and wounded.
The Japanese were completely overwhelmed by these huge numbers, and so the POWs were generally left alone to organise things for themselves. At this time the Japanese guards were usually nowhere to be seen.
When we got to Changi, we had some time to look around. We had time to get to know each other better and to make a few new friends. I gradually became friends with some blokes who, if they were still alive, I’d be friends with today.
You soon got to know who you wanted to have as a close friend. It doesn’t take long to decide what a bloke’s like. You can pretty much tell after you’ve spoken to him for a few minutes – at least, I was always able to tell. And we had plenty of time to talk in Changi.
I’d been wondering about Bobby Inman, whom I hadn’t seen since coming to Changi, and then one day we heard about the Alexandra Hospital massacre. It had happened on 14 February, a day or two before the surrender. For whatever reason, the Japanese killed every patient there, as well as all the doctors and nurses, even though they were unarmed and it was very clearly a hospital. Who knows why, but Bobby was among them, the poor bugger.
> I never found out why he was in the hospital, and they never even identified his body. He was a great mate of mine, and all he has now is his name on the wall at Kranji Cemetery: Private Robert H. Inman of the 2/9th Field Ambulance.
All the fit soldiers at Changi had some sort of job. Digger, Joe and a few other mates volunteered to clean out the swamp, which had been ordered by the Japanese but was organised by the POWs. The swamp was an area in a hollow between the Selerang and Roberts Barracks. The men had to wade up to their chests into the swamp and retrieve everything that had been dumped there during the fighting.
The biggest problem was that the place was alive with snakes that swam on the surface. It was more than a little off-putting but the men tried their best to catch them. In fact, they turned the chore into a sport, competing over who could catch and throw the largest number of snakes to the bank, where the others would kill the snakes and attach them to their belts as trophies.
One of the group was Max Wall, who would march along the bank with his snakes, singing:
We’re a’ havin a party tonight, tonight
All stayin’ healthy cause we’re eatin’ right
I just wish it was good Aussie steak
Instead of crap rice and bloody fried snake.
But the snakes were white-fleshed and tender, and Digger reckoned they were delicious. Unfortunately, snakes were not the only items in the swamp. In the first couple of days, the men also retrieved unexploded shells and human body parts.
As the weeks passed, the Japanese became more organised and appointed work parties for various labouring jobs around Singapore, from making roads to working on the docks. This afforded many opportunities for the enterprising and resourceful to acquire goods that were fast becoming scarce. Medical supplies and tinned food were at the top of the list.