Digger’s Story: Surviving the Japanese POW camps was just the beginning

by David

  Later that evening, having recovered from their initial emotion, Max and Digger spent a good two hours talking about their many common friends whom they would never see again. They talked of when they died, how they died and where they were buried. These were hard stories to tell, and this time both men had tears rolling down their faces in the dark. They were safe. They were so relieved that they had survived, and yet glad that they could hide this emotion. All over the camp, friends from the past were meeting and similar stories were being swapped, some happy but most sad. And all over the camp the crying was done quietly.

  The next day, Digger, Max and a few other mates were sitting in their open-sided hut and talking of how they might be rescued when there was a sudden crash above them. They jumped aside as an American soldier – still attached to his parachute – burst straight through the attap palm roof.

  This was the first Allied military person the prisoners had seen since their capture. They were delighted, even if the American was a little shaken. He carried news of their imminent departure to nearby Bangkok. Billets had been organised, and apparently all Australians from the Nakhon Nayok camp were to be transported to the Chamber of Commerce building.

  ‘Who cares about where,’ Max said. ‘Just set me down anywhere in Bangkok and I’ll be fine.’

  ‘That costs money, my friend,’ Digger replied. Already his thoughts were turning to how to solve this problem.

  The American was carrying a camera that had been slightly damaged in the landing. Digger persuaded him to donate his camera to the group. The POWs, having lived with so little over the years, were inventive and self-sufficient in all manner of things; Digger knew that fixing a camera would be easy for them. Digger realised it was a little late to begin a photographic record, but he was determined to document their existence.

  In addition to the ‘storepedoes’, there were also parachute drops of food over the next few days. Almost immediately a trade in parachute cloth started up with the locals. The men dismantled the parachutes and the locals bought the cloth, the cords and every other part. They used them to manufacture very handsome nylon shirts.

  The next visitor from above turned out to be doubly profitable for the men at the Nakhon Nayok camp. As soon as the American landed, a number of laughing and happy ex-POWs surrounded him. They had his parachute almost totally cut up before he could even take it off, and he panicked. He drew his revolver and fired it into the air. ‘This parachute is American GI equipment,’ he declared in a Southern accent. ‘So just back off, boys!’

  All that his outburst accomplished was to change the happy group around him into an angry anti-American mob. The GI was quickly relieved of a pair of exquisite pearl-handled revolvers, which no doubt added considerably to someone’s Bangkok fund, and he was told in no uncertain terms that the trade in parachute cloth would continue for as long as Uncle Sam allowed it to float down from on high.

  Australian planes also flew over the camp, delivering food and medicines. The men recognised the DC-3s because they flew with their doors open; the crew could be seen kicking the packages out. One day a DC-3 came in really low, with its doors open as usual. When the men looked up, they saw a girl in the doorway. She was being held tight by three airmen to prevent her from falling out, and she lifted her skirt and danced and pranced about, waving to her very appreciative audience below.

  ‘Christ, she’s got no knickers on!’ said one soldier, his neck craned back.

  ‘That’s just your imagination working overtime,’ someone shouted back.

  But there was more hollering and whistling than had ever before been heard on the railway. The men could not have wished for a better present.

  In early September 1945, the Australians left the Nakhon Nayok camp early one morning and travelled by truck to Nong Pladuk, and then continued on to Bangkok. There, they were taken to the Chamber of Commerce building.

  Digger and Max had discussed in detail what they would do when they got to Bangkok, and they decided there and then to put their plan into action. They took one look at the palliasses so thoughtfully supplied for them and decided that this did not meet their expectations of civilisation after three and half years of slavery. They had a better idea.

  They took off into the town. They had very little money and were clothed in American cast-offs, but they had determined that, after their experiences, they were owed a great deal of money by the Japanese.

  There were Japanese camps all over Bangkok; it was clear they had intended to be there for a while. It had been their headquarters for the whole of Thailand, and now it was the centre of the Allies’ attention. All Japanese within the city had been disarmed.

  Max and Digger knew, from their experiences of the last few weeks, that the Japanese attitude to Australians, Americans and all Allied personnel was now strictly subservient – particularly if they were approached with a confident and dominant swagger. The boot was simply now on the other foot. Digger and Max had talked long and often about this; now they hoped like hell that they were right.

  Spotting a Japanese camp, Digger and Max did not hesitate. They confidently marched through the gate without a word being exchanged. The Japanese guards were avoiding eye contact – a very good sign. They walked around the camp for a while, getting their bearings. They were particularly interested in transport and office buildings – there were plenty of both.

  They very soon found what they were looking for: a medium-sized truck, easy to drive. They climbed into the truck and – after getting it started with a little difficulty – drove it up to the door of the nearest office. Just as confidently, they got down from the truck, opened the office door, and with gestures and in commanding voices began ordering the Japanese soldiers about. ‘Get the furniture on the fucking truck – speedo, speedo!’ They pointed to chairs, desks and tables. Within a few minutes, the truck was loaded and ready to go.

  Digger and Max climbed back into the truck and drove it and its load past the guards, who again looked the other way. They headed into the heart of Bangkok, driving around until they found a busy street market. Finding an area that did not hinder the flow of the passing traffic, they stopped and placed a ‘for sale’ sign, in English, on a piece of cardboard on the side of the truck.

  We sat down, lit a smoke and only then had a good look around. The first thing we noticed was that we were not the only ones at this caper. We could see four or five others of our kind – mostly Australians, by the look of them – doing exactly as we were. We could see tyres, typewriters, carpets and much more being sold by members of our long-suffering but eventually victorious Allied force. Well, I thought, good on you, boys. To Max I just said, ‘I think we get first prize for a truckload of furniture.’

  Max laughed and left me there as chief salesman, and he took off to chat to the others scattered around the market. He returned after about twenty minutes and explained that one was an American, but all the rest were Aussies. They were all just looking for the price of a good root. Max and I, on the other hand, were looking for a bit more – in addition, of course!

  Stealing from the enemy and selling their gear was illegal, according to some rule or other. Max and I knew that – we weren’t stupid. The British were probably too bloody scared of their officers to try such a trick, but we just didn’t give a rat’s arse. These Jap bastards owed us so much, we figured, so we were just taking a little on account. No bugger was going to stop us.

  We were prepared to stay by the truck for as long as it took – well into the evening, at least – but within an hour a Thai bloke approached us. It was difficult because he spoke little English and we knew just a few words of Thai. He offered us a ridiculously low price – hardly enough for a couple of days in a hotel, as far as we knew, and we wanted at least two weeks’ accommodation and enough pocket money for a great time.

  It took a good ten minutes for the buyer to realise that we were selling the truck as well as the furniture. When we all realised what the problem was, we had a
good laugh and soon struck a deal.

  Digger and Max left the market with pockets full of tical. Their next goal was to find a hotel that offered something better than straw palliasses and the company of a few hundred other ex-POWs. They were over the moon.

  Chapter 12

  The On-on Hotel

  ‘Christ!’ said Max. ‘I’ll swear there are cracks in your face I’ve never seen before, and that’s a fact.’

  Digger said nothing, but the broad smile on his face broke into laughter as he turned, punched his mate on the arm and ran ahead a few steps, jumping and clicking his heels in the air in sheer delight. He was free, with a mate, in a big city and with money in his pocket and the night was still young.

  The local Thais and Chinese looked at them and smiled. Times were happier for them, too, since the surrender. Digger and Max responded, grinning cheerfully at the girls, who it seemed always smiled back. The hardships of the past were behind them, and only now did they realise the possibilities that freedom and a little money might bring, no matter how it had been obtained!

  Three and a half years of imprisonment under a regime that demanded complete obedience, along with the continual nagging fear that any unwitting action might warrant a severe beating, had changed the attitudes and behaviour of most POWs. One major change in Digger and many of his mates was how they regarded army discipline. Never again would they do anything they did not want to do – in the army or not. Another was their utter contempt for the Japanese army. A truck and a few sticks of furniture did not even make a dent in what they were owed, Digger knew.

  Digger was in no way fazed by what the Australian army hierarchy might think of his current actions. He remained a private, and proud of it, until the day he was discharged. By the time he was offered promotion, some time before his discharge, he had very little respect for the army as an organisation.

  He now believed that young soldiers who joined up, as he had, did so through ignorance and stupidity. He had learned a lot since he joined. The manner in which the Allies had surrendered in Singapore, along with Digger’s own observations of the behaviour of the ‘officer class’ at Changi, had permanently changed his thinking. Customs such as saluting and using the term ‘sir’ no longer concerned him. Along with all the other POWs he had associated with, Digger had not saluted anyone – except the Japanese, of course – since they had been captured in Singapore.

  In general, the POWs had no regard for rank; they had all been treated exactly the same by the guards who ruled their lives. In Digger’s eyes, all POWs were equal, and they should treat each other as equals. The fact that officers were not supposed to do physical work particularly bothered him.

  There certainly were some officers who were natural leaders. Many had been spokesmen for their groups and had suffered because of this. There were others who were also held in high regard by everyone, particularly doctors such as Albert Coates, Kevin Fagan and Roy Mills. These men were all known to Digger and his mates, and were shown great respect because of their actions.

  Max and Digger, as they wandered the streets of Bangkok, regarded themselves first and foremost as individuals, answerable to no one but themselves. They were free to do whatever they liked, and if any Jap bastard – or anyone else, for that matter – got between them and their intention, then look out!

  ‘Okay, to business, then,’ said Digger, gesturing across the street at a ‘Hotel’ sign with other words underneath in local characters. ‘How about this? It’s in the centre of things, not too obvious, in case anyone comes looking for us. We can easily get to the Chamber of Commerce for any mail.’

  So Digger and Max settled into what turned out to be the On-on Hotel, which was owned by a Chinese couple. They had real furniture, a choice of Thai meals, Chinese meals, bacon and eggs, steak and chips or whatever they wanted – supplied on request and on real plates! There were also single beds, in the same room, but far enough apart to smell no bodies but their own. What a change – what a treat! It was fantastic to be alive. To them, this hotel was five stars at the very least.

  But there was a small problem. Since the Jap surrender, the local Thais and Chinese had been at loggerheads. Gunfire and explosions across the city were not uncommon, particularly at night. In a city where ordinance of all kinds was available, this was not surprising.

  Early in the evening of their second night at the On-on Hotel, Digger and Max were sitting in the hotel bar. They thought they might find some female company but were surprised – and not a little disappointed – that the place was strangely empty.

  Suddenly, the sound of gunfire and explosions seemed very loud. Mr On-on, as they had christened the owner, came rushing in. He gestured to them to follow him up the stairs and into the main room on the first floor. He assured them in struggling English that they would be safe there; no one would be able to toss a grenade through the window because of the heavy window shutters.

  It suddenly dawned on the two adventurers that this conflict between the Thais and the Chinese was really serious. Somehow they had landed in the middle of a local war.

  ‘This is bloody terrible,’ shouted Max across the room, above the noise of what they now knew to be a real battle. ‘I was so sure that tonight was the night – you know? You saw the way that little waitress looked at me today. I’m not bloody dying here! This is not the fucking plan!’

  ‘Just keep away from the window,’ Digger shouted back, switching off the main light. ‘And anyway, I think she was looking at me. What the hell’s happening? I thought we were well out of it here.’

  There was a commotion on the stairs, and Mr On-on and his wife appeared in the doorway with two wounded men. They were half carrying one man, who had a neck wound; the other was walking with difficulty and holding a blood-soaked cloth to his right leg.

  Digger immediately went to work on the wounded men, just as he had been trained. Max did what he could, carrying water and making bandages. He also took charge of the pistol one of the men was carrying.

  Digger and Max said little for the rest of that night, but both were thinking about the straw palliasses at the Chamber of Commerce building. Had they done the right thing by striking out so bravely on their own? Neither voiced his thoughts.

  Gradually, the explosions grew fewer, and by morning all was quiet again. The man with the wound in his neck had died from loss of blood, but the other could walk. Soon he disappeared into the Bangkok morning.

  ‘What should we do with this?’ Max asked, showing Digger the pistol.

  ‘That’s our pay – for services rendered,’ Digger replied. ‘We might need it, so just put it in your pocket.’

  It transpired that the cause of the small but very serious local war was that, after the Japanese surrender, the local Chinese residents had dared to fly their flags, and the Siamese had resented this. Perhaps they’d had enough of foreign flags. Why the Chinese Thais were flying their flags, Digger and Max neither knew nor cared. The good news was that this war seemed to be fought only after dark; in the morning everyone busily went about his or her business. If only the war between the Allies and the Japanese could have been conducted so civilly, Digger thought to himself.

  However, there was at least one Allied casualty. One ex-POW, who was manning a truck that was rounding up the drunks from the brothels, was killed by a stray shot. It was a pointless tragedy, especially since the man had survived three and a half years of brutal savagery.1 It seemed a dreadful waste.

  Over the next few days, Digger and Max remained at the hotel and enjoyed themselves in the city. They now knew that leisure activities had to be pursued in daylight hours, and they pursued them with vigour.

  After three and a half years, they were sick of male army company and happy to meet and talk to Thais, Chinese or anyone else. Digger and Max inhabited the cafés and revelled in the company of all the women, who seemed delighted to talk to them. Digger had already worked out that their apparent popularity with the opposite sex was not so much due to t
heir good looks, but more likely that they were Australians on their way home to a rich country. But who gave a shit about that?

  ‘It’s been a bloody long time since we experienced this, eh, Digger?’ said Max, as two girls they had not seen before eyed them from a nearby table.

  ‘You’re right, mate,’ said Digger. ‘Just thank your lucky stars that now we know everything’s still in working order, and concentrate on making sure we get in some more practice again tonight. Now, sit up and look as rich and Australian as possible!’

  Digger signalled to the women that they were welcome to join them, and the four were soon deep in semi-English, semi-Thai conversation. Digger felt they were the only people on the planet who really understood the meaning of freedom. It was the sort of freedom that they had dreamed about for so long.

  There were many brothels in the city, from clean-looking houses with attractive girls to squalid hovels, and business in all establishments was brisk. The city was full of ex-POWs who had all recently received a portion of their back-pay at the very least. The girls in the extensive red-light districts were kept fully employed night and day.2

  Digger and Max were both medical orderlies, and since both had served in the blue-light depots in Singapore three and a half years previously, they were very well versed in the risks of contracting venereal disease. They were also well aware that the women they attracted were probably there because of the money alone, and they took all the necessary protections.

  They occasionally ventured out in the evenings to the entertainments laid on by the British authorities for the thousands of ex-POWs in Bangkok. The concert companies had singers, comedians and many young women, who were all greatly appreciated by the men for their looks and because they had bothered to come so far to entertain them – who cared whether they could sing or dance?