by David
At most of these concerts, the entertainers would involve the audience in the show. Once Digger answered a few questions correctly and was allowed onto the stage to claim his prize of a kiss from the entertainer Lynn Britton. The lights were extinguished and Digger willingly did what was expected of him. He was still kissing this girl as the lights came on again.
‘So, do I sleep in the lounge tonight?’ Max asked, as Digger returned to the audience.
‘No, mate,’ Digger replied. ‘I didn’t have the breath left to ask the question!’
They frequently looked in at the Chamber of Commerce building, taking care to be as inconspicuous as possible. Each had written to his family, saying he was free and well. They knew they were likely to be transferred to Singapore before being shipped back home; much as they were enjoying life now, getting home was still their top priority.
They were also careful to pay attention to the general orders posted on the noticeboard at the Chamber of Commerce building; the last thing they wanted was to draw official attention to themselves. They registered and filled in forms about the camps they had been at, and went to the records office in response to a general request to report what they knew about bad treatment by the Japs. They knew plenty, of course, as did all the ex-POWs.
Digger informed the authorities that, as bad as the treatment of the POWs at Kanchanaburi had been, the very worst treatment meted out by the Japanese and Korean guards was to the romusha – the native workers on the railway. These men were Tamils, Malays, Indians, Chinese and Thais, and many of them had originally worked on the rubber plantations of colonial Malaya.
Digger spoke about how the romusha had been treated, particularly when they were sick, and about the huge numbers who had perished. He had personally buried thousands at Kanchanaburi. He was then thanked for his story and politely informed that the office was interested only in the treatment of Allied personnel.
While visiting the Chamber of Commerce building one day, Digger received his first letter from home. His last mail had been in Singapore before the Allied surrender. Digger had not known it, but he had been posted as ‘missing in action’ since that time.
Digger recognised his sister Iris’s writing. He took the letter outside the building and found a corner away from a group of his mates, who were smoking, chatting and killing time. It passed through his mind that he now knew these men better than he did his own family.
He realised that his home life, with all its responsibilities, hopes and ambitions, which were once so important to him, had faded into the background of his mind. Sheer survival had taken all the effort he could muster, each and every minute of every day. He felt some guilt as he pondered this while sitting on a low wall and opening the letter slowly. His heart beat a little faster as memories of his family and Melbourne came flooding back.
He unfolded the pages and began to read.
Dear Digger,
Well thank God you survived. We were all so relieved to get your letter. We can’t imagine what a terrible experience you have had.
Unfortunately I am very sad to tell you that our dear Mum . . .
Digger’s heart skipped a few beats and he closed his eyes. He felt a pain in his chest, knowing what he was about to read, and he stopped breathing. After what seemed a long time, he took a deep breath and fought to gain control of his feelings. He opened his eyes and continued to read.
Unfortunately I am very sad to tell you that our dear mum passed away in September last year. We gave her a great send off and your father . . .
Again Digger stopped reading. He swallowed hard, stuffed the letter into his pocket and, avoiding any contact, quickly returned to the On-on Hotel. Max was out, which Digger was glad of. He lay on his bed and read the letter several times, and cried quietly before falling asleep.
Digger had never been close to his father but he had felt the closest of bonds with his mum. He could not shake the thought that if he had been at home to look after her she might still be alive. Digger had been very close to his mum. When he was young and things were really tough, his father had given his mother a hard time. Now, he found it unbearable to know that she had died in his absence and that his father was still living.
As far back as Digger could remember, it was his mum who had always looked after the family. She was a clever businesswoman who had survived and provided for them all through the difficult times of the Depression. To learn of her death now, so close to seeing her again, was just the very worst of news.
Digger woke next morning to hear Max telling him of his adventures of the previous day. They involved a girl, of course – otherwise, what was the point of telling your mate? – but Max quickly noticed Digger’s lack of response and asked what was wrong.
‘I just got my first letter . . . Mum died,’ Digger explained as briefly as possible.
‘Aw, shit. Sorry, mate. I’m really sorry and you so near . . .’ Max’s response faded out as they both sat on the edge of their beds.
That day was difficult for them both. They were used to death, of course, but the death of a mother was a very different matter. Yet Digger did not want to wallow in his grief. They had breakfast, which was delivered to the hotel lounge from their favourite local café, and planned their activities for the day.
That evening, Digger and Max were sitting in the hotel bar. The ‘flag war’ was still being waged; they could hear gunfire but the hotel area was obviously not the target tonight. Business at the hotel was slow, but suddenly they heard English voices at the doorway. Into the bar walked a lieutenant in British uniform. The quality of his uniform immediately told Max and Digger that he was a recent import. He was definitely no ex-POW.
‘Is one of you chaps Digger Barrett?’ the lieutenant asked in a distinctly upper-class English accent.
‘Who wants to know?’ Digger asked in return, remaining seated and withholding the obligatory ‘sir’ that was always expected by commissioned officers.
‘I’m Lieutenant Eldridge from the Commonwealth War Graves Commission,’ the man explained, ‘and I’ve come to ask you a favour.’ He removed his cap and offered Digger his hand.
This was not the usual gesture of an officer, and immediately Digger was reassured. For a minute he and Max had thought that the army had caught up with their escapades and decided to do something about it. He shook the offered hand and said that he was indeed Digger Barrett.
‘So what the hell are you doing out on a night like this?’ Digger asked. ‘Don’t you know there’s a bloody war on here?’
‘Well, we don’t have much time, and it was essential that I contact you tonight. I got your whereabouts from some of your friends at the Chamber of Commerce building.’ Lieutenant Eldridge went on to explain why he wanted to see Digger.
It turned out that the Commonwealth War Graves Commission was a combined organisation for the Allied countries that looked after the graves of all servicemen. It was essential that the gravesites of soldiers up and down the Thai–Burma railway were found, catalogued and cleared now; if the jungle reclaimed them, they would be lost forever.
Eldridge asked Digger if he would volunteer to join a small party that was to go back up the railway. Digger was as close to a doctor as the War Graves Commission could find in Bangkok at that time, and they needed him to serve as the party’s medic. There were very few doctors to be found, and none who would volunteer for this job. Most of the Allied officers, including all the doctors, had already been repatriated to their home countries.
Digger didn’t hesitate, and volunteered immediately. He now had no reason to go home. After Eldridge had left him and Max alone, Digger said, ‘Anyway, I want to see the rest of that fucking railway!’
Chapter 13
Back to the Railway
On the morning of 19 September 1945, Digger and Max were enjoying breakfast at the On-on Hotel. Their standard order, which was delivered by the café next door, was for steak and eggs, together with local pawpaw and toast. Tea came courtesy of
Mr and Mrs On-on. They had eaten this every morning since they had arrived at the hotel, and they were a long way from getting sick of it.
The pair rarely talked while they ate. Eating was without doubt the second-most important activity in their current situation. They simply relished every morsel and let their thoughts roam back to the previous night – and the number one activity.
As he chewed on a mouthful of toast, steak and soft egg, Digger looked up towards the dining room door. He saw Lieutenant Eldridge approaching their table. He said nothing as he savoured his food but motioned the lieutenant to join them.
‘Just look at that,’ said the Englishman, casting his eyes longingly over the steak and eggs. ‘That’s more than we get in the mess at Sathorn House, I’ll wager.’
‘Have some tea,’ Max offered, and signalled the waiter for an extra cup.
The two Australians continued their breakfast as Eldridge explained what the expedition back up the railway involved. The members of the party were meeting at Sathorn House that morning. Several meetings were scheduled for the next day or two so that all members ‘signed up’ to the goals of the trip, although what this actually meant was not yet clear.
When Digger and Eldridge arrived at Sathorn House, the place was bustling. There were all sorts there but mostly British and Australian army officers. Some were sergeants, others warrant officers, but most had a shoulder rank signifying His Majesty’s Commission. So this is where all the bloody officers are hiding, thought Digger.
The ex-POWs were easy to spot. They wore hand-me-down shorts and shirts that were reminiscent of army attire, but they did not proclaim regiment and rank in the usual loud manner. Digger preferred it this way. He was, as yet, not ready to join in any army games.
When Digger met his fellow volunteer adventurers, he was glad to see that most of them were ex-POWs. As it happened, he had not met any of them before but he still felt comfortable in their company. Their similar experiences made for easy conversation and the promise of good working relationships. Every man there was committed to doing the very best he could for the friends he sorely missed and would never see again.
The men talked on many subjects, but no matter what they discussed, every conversation always came back to the same subject: they were here to do what little they could for those who, through no fault of their own, had to stay here forever. For many, guilt probably played a part in their volunteering for the mission. After all, they were still going home – just not right away.
One of the members of the expedition was Padre Henry Babb, a British ex-POW. In his diary entry for that day, he recorded the names of the men who were there:
Lieutenant Joseph Albert Eldridge (British) – a member of the War Graves Commission
Lieutenant Jack Holder Leemon (Australian) – a member of the War Graves Commission
Sergeant Lloyd Rankin (Australian) – a member of the War Graves Commission
Lieutenant G. H. Schroder (Dutch) – a member of the War Graves Commission and ex-POW
Captain R. K. A. Bruce (Federated Malay States, British) – ex-POW
Captain Athol Roland White (Australian) – ex-POW
Padre Henry C. F. Babb (British) – ex-POW
Warrant Officer Les Cody (Australian) – ex-POW
Sergeant Jack H. Sherman (Australian) – ex-POW
Sergeant Torry Lee (Australian) – ex-POW
Leading Aircraftman S. O. Simpson (Australian) – ex-POW
Leading Aircraftman Rex (Mac) McGregor (Australian) – ex-POW
Leading Aircraftman Eddie S. Wheeler (Australian) – ex-POW
Private Hilton R. Lees (Australian) – ex-POW
Private G. H. Kindred (British) – ex-POW
Private David William Barrett (Australian) – ex-POW1
The expedition was also to include a Japanese interpreter, Lieutenant Nagase Takashi, who had been a member of the dreaded Kempeitai, Japan’s military police, and twelve Japanese soldiers to protect the party against bandits. Lieutenant Nagase was in charge of these guards as well as of two Japanese train drivers.
Digger was assigned the task of ‘looking after’ Lieutenant Nagase. He was unsure why, because his main task on this trip was to act as its medical orderly. Perhaps the Allied officers did not want to associate too closely with a Japanese officer – particularly a Kempei – but Digger took on the job willingly.
Over the next two or three days, Digger visited Sathorn House as he was instructed. Between visits, he and Max continued to enjoy their very well-earned break at the On-on Hotel. Digger thought he knew what had happened on the railway pretty well. However, as he talked to other ex-POWs, he learned about their experiences, the conditions in different camps, their friends who had died and those who had survived to be free again.
Those in certain areas, such as at the Sonkarai camp, near the border between Burma and Thailand, had suffered particularly bad treatment at the hands of the Japanese guards. A Japanese officer at Sokarai, Lieutenant Abe Hiroshi, was one of the most brutal officers on the railway. Many remembered this particular lieutenant for his cruelty.
The following extract was written by Carol Cooper:
. . . the conditions there were probably worse than [at] any other [camp]. Engineer Officer Lt. Abe made no attempt at any time to try and stop the brutal treatment by his men, even in his presence. Hundreds of men are reported to have died in the Sonkarai camp from May 1943 and during the following months.2
The ex-POWs’ shared sense of anger, resentment and intense hatred for the guards, whom they blamed for the deaths of their friends, drew the War Graves Commission group together. Many stories were related of friends who had died, whether from beatings or diseases such as malaria, severe ulceration of legs or feet, dysentery or just starvation. The IJA’s policy of half-rations for the sick had hastened the deaths of many men. No doubt the officers in the group also harboured these feelings, but army protocol precluded the intimacy of conversation needed to share true feelings between officers and men, even in the Australian army.
Digger shared his stories too, but at the back of his mind he knew what had kept him alive. It was his hatred for all things Japanese, and his passionate longing to be able – somehow, sometime – to even the score. In the meantime, he was content to help to bring what little dignity he could to the dead by ensuring that they got a decent gravesite.
At this time, immediately after the surrender, the IJA in Siam and in Burma remained as it had been. The soldiers were still armed and occupied the same areas, all the way up the railway. The only difference was that their orders now came from the Allied forces under the command of a British officer. This was, no doubt, a terrible blow to Japan’s officer soldiers, who had been taught to believe that the Japanese army would be victorious. Those Japanese who did not take their own lives rationalised their situation by arguing that they were still obeying their Emperor, albeit via the victorious Allied army.
It was with some trepidation, therefore, that the War Graves Commission party prepared for their expedition. They had no real notion of the reception they would get from the thousands of IJA soldiers who were still in the area and armed. They would also have to depend and rely totally on the cooperation of the Japanese, who were still in control of the railway operations.
The areas north of Bangkok were also inhabited by the infamous dacoits. These were armed gangs, some of whom may have acted as guerrilla forces against the Japanese, but who were now working only for themselves. They were menacing hundreds of small villages in Burma and Thailand at this time.
To protect themselves from these threats, the Commonwealth War Graves Commission search party was to be well armed. They would be kitted out with Thompson submachine guns, Sten guns, rifles, sidearms and grenades.
At Sathorn House before their departure, Digger and the rest of the group were assembled in an area with individual desks and chairs. It was for all the world like a classroom, Digger thought. All members were required to sign a docume
nt, but first they were briefed on the purpose of the expedition.
Padre Babb, who was charged with keeping a diary of the expedition, summed up this briefing in the introduction to his report:
As trainloads of ex-prisoners came into the capital of Thailand on their way to the evacuation airport, many senior officers and warrant officers were carrying Death Records of either their regiments or the Groups in which they worked as prisoners. Some had rough sketch maps of cemeteries, and the best effort was made by Sgt. Kemp of the R.A.O.C. who was in Group 2 [a Japanese-organised grouping] as a prisoner. He had been working in the Nip office and collected information about every group – how he did it will always remain a mystery. His maps and cemetery plans are excellent.
All the records [of ex-POWs] were collected into Sathorn House and everything was prepared by the ex-prisoners to hand over to the Graves Commission.
Then came the appeal, ‘Who will volunteer to go back along the railway line to show the Graves Commission the positions of the cemeteries?’ It was necessary to have fit men and those who knew the areas concerned. A party of 13 ex-prisoners volunteered [plus three who were not ex-POW] in spite of the fact that they could hear the aeroplane engines roaring which were taking their fellow ex-prisoners home.3
As Digger learned that day, the reason for this expedition was not simply to locate and document the gravesites but also to recover evidence of atrocities that had been buried with the bodies. The Japanese and Korean guards had taken no interest in any POWs once they were dead, so the graves of Allied servicemen had become hiding places for all manner of information, including details of atrocities and who was responsible for them.
Captains Bruce and White, the senior officers in the group, delivered a lecture to the group. They reminded the men that since the Japanese surrender the Allied forces were now in charge – and being in charge carried with it heavy responsibilities. One of those responsibilities was to respect the property of others, including property owned by the defeated Japanese army and its members, regardless of how they had treated their prisoners in the camps.