I thought it would be a good plan to contact the Kuala and the Tien Quan to exchange information about plans, so that if all three parties were not lucky in getting through, the survivors might be able to do something about it. This agreed, I borrowed the launch (which was quite large with a Malay crew of four) and set off for what, on the chart the Captain (Lieutenant Commander Thompson) had salvaged, was called Pohm-Pohm island. The two ships had moved to anchor very close inshore, rather unwisely near each other I thought, in a very small, horseshoe bay. Both were auxiliary naval vessels of about 600 tons, taken over from shipping companies. The crews were engaged in ferrying branches of trees from the island to camouflage the ships, an optimistic task (since wisps of smoke from both funnels wound up in the tropical air) but doubtless good for keeping the men employed.
I boarded each in turn. One had about 350 of all three services on board, and about 50 civilians, mostly service wives and families. The other had 450 women, mostly hospital nurses, a few children and a contingent of the RAF. I wrote out our situation for the two Captains and what we intended to do. They showed me their courses for Batavia on the chart and one kindly gave me a Very pistol, parallel rulers and Pilot Book of the district. I saw Lieutenant Rafferty on board Kuala, and a few other people I knew, including PO Tailor who had been one of my Guard Petty Officers. He was standing at the top of the ladder as I came on board. ‘Good God, Sir! What are you doing and how on earth did you get here?’ He was brandishing a huge spanner and told me he was self-appointed quartermaster of the stores, needing the spanner to keep certain people off them. Bodies were strewn about the decks and passageways and it struck me there was very little apparent organisation. I thought how ghastly it would be if these ships were bombed, with all the congestion. The RNVR navigator, whom I had come across before, was very nervous about the danger of aircraft. I tried to reassure him that if they were coming, they would probably have done so already, as we were attacked at 07:45 the previous day and it was now 10:00.
Little did I realise the emptiness of my words.
Having given and received all communications that could be of mutual help, I started on the return journey. The launch was new and ran very sweetly. She was about three-quarters of the way back when there was the sudden explosion of bombs and, following the shaking finger of the Malay cox’n, I saw spouts of water round the Kung Wo, out to sea. I increased to full speed, got in the lee of a chain of very small islets that jutted off the end of our own island and slowed down to make the rest of the passage with as little disturbance as possible.
A formation of nine big bombers circled round the Kung Wo, which they had missed, before running in again. She was hit squarely and disappeared in a cloud of smoke. When it cleared she was almost on her beam ends, and sank in a moment. Munro’s luck was indeed in. Not so the unfortunate people on board the other two ships. I felt a terrible dread, almost seeing the confusion that must be taking place. Some of their boats were probably inshore … it was not a long way, but they only had seconds to go. The island had no beach, indeed the scrub jungle came down at an angle of about 45 degrees and dropped sheer to the water, amongst brown rocks. The bombers flew round in a large circle and made their run at about 5,000 feet, straight for Pohm-Pohm. Their path took them right over me, and the Malay crew grew frantic, donning life jackets and cowering in corners, while the cox’n shouted for the engine to be reversed and put the wheel hard over for the shore. With few words of Malay I made noises of infuriation and, pushing him off the wheel, tried to get at the throttles; this he could not understand and kept resisting (it was not possible to steer and work the engine at the same time). Keeping the boat straight and warding off his efforts was not easy and I expected to hear, momentarily, the grinding of coral.
Then came the sound of bombs again and I saw a direct hit on one ship and the sea around a mass of near misses. The launch’s crew got to their feet and I had fears of their overpowering me. The bombers came round again, much lower and right over our heads. Although I did not expect them to trouble about a launch, it was possible one might spare me a bomb and so I went hard astarboard at the right moment.
Nothing happened until they were over the luckless Pohm-Pohm island. Again the black spouts rose all round the ships, though neither seemed to be hit this time. Kuala was smoking. I wondered if I would do best to go back and help as much as I could; but it would take about half an hour and after that time it would be much better to go with the doctor who was quite close. I was also very doubtful of the Malay crew, especially when they arrived on the scene of action.
There was still a short distance to be covered and I steered in for the cover of some overhanging trees. It was an unfortunate move as there were four plops in quick succession. The crew were overboard. I was making the boat fast to some fishing stakes when one of the Malays, an old man, began to splutter and cry out. He obviously could not swim and was going to drown. I cursed the old fool and then, with the idea that as well as saving him I might gain the confidence of the others, dived in and effected a spectacular rescue. He sat on the beach and vomited while I called to the others who had disappeared in to the jungle. One by one they came back like frightened children and cowered together when yet another bombing attack took place. I then made a big show of jumping in and swimming back. Fortunately they followed suit, clustering round the old man who was hauled on board. The engine was still running and we were away in a second. A lasting annoyance was that my watch fell out of a top pocket in the course of the aquatics.
When I got back Terry, the doctor, and a Sick Berth Attendant boarded the launch and with our few medical supplies set out for Pohm-Pohm again. They were over there a long time and it was dusk when we heard them returning. Terry shouted for us to come out; we were to embark as arranged.
The launch had many badly wounded women on board and some who had died on the way over. They had been bombed nine times. Several people had been killed both in the ships and in the water, and there were some 40 wounded on land with few medical supplies and very little food. One ship was sinking but the other was afloat though holed. Only a tiny stream had been found on Pohm-Pohm, which was a small island, basically a thickly wooded mound projecting out of the sea. The survivors were lying among trees with hardly any water. A strong current had swept some away, and next to no gear had been brought ashore. Here was a terrible state of affairs.
*Now Rear-Admiral Sir Peter and Captain, Royal Navy, respectively.
*When Singapore fell, Clark got away in a launch, but was sunk by a destroyer in the Banka Strait and taken prisoner after swimming for a whole day with a badly broken arm.
*The victor of a brilliant campaign in East Africa culminating in the capture of Keren.
*Dick Beckworth’s gallant end was not to be known until after the war. See page 275.
*39 years later I discovered it was Pool! He and his Fairmile had taken part in the Rose Force operation and then excelled in a night action in the Johore Strait, sinking Japanese invasion craft (for which he was to receive the DSC). He did evacuate Admiral Spooner and Air Marshal Pulford but met a Jap destroyer near the Banka Strait and had to beach on an uninhabited island. When Pool was captured many weeks later, the Admiral, Air Marshal and most of the party had died of disease or starvation.
6
On the run
Although repaired as far as possible, our lifeboats were in poor shape. Help from Sumatra was essential and it was decided that the launch and tonkan would set out that night, each towing one boat. Everyone was mustered at the water’s edge and a long crocodile began to wade out, slipping and blaspheming as coral cut mercilessly into flesh. It soon became clear that there would not be room for all of us, so Munro and I said we would stay behind and I called for volunteers.
Eventually about 30 men were taken into the tonkan and the same number in the boats. The rest of us, wet and rather crestfallen, splashed back to the beach. As we listened to the engines dying away an AB beside me said ‘Well, a
nyway, we’ve got rid of the panic party* Sir!’ To the good could be counted 60 fewer mouths to feed which increased our rations to eight days and after a muster it was apparent that the call for volunteers had indeed rid us of the panic party and grumblers. Except for Monro, the 60 remaining were all Prince of Wales and Repulse ratings, plus an Anglo-Indian engineer called Thompson who spoke Malay like a native (a rifle shooting enthusiast, it was his elephant gun that had greeted the aircraft) and three British officers of the Singapore Fire Brigade. The senior. Mackintosh, was fluent in Chinese and Malay and the others spoke the latter well too, so we were unlikely to have language problems. The senior rating was Chief Engine Room Artificer Roper and I made him Master at Arms. There was a seaman Petty Officer (Pickard) and a PO Cook (Hobbs) but not enough Leading Seamen so I rated up the two best ABs (Witherley and Brown) to acting Leading Seamen on the spot. I fear they never got paid as such! All were in fairly good heart once the initial disappointment had been absorbed.
Monro was a most likeable, stocky, close-cropped Scot in his mid-thirties—though years in the tropics made him look older—who perhaps should have taken charge but the men naturally looked to me. Anyway, he was a tower of strength and we took major decisions together. After Roper had organised the men into parts of the watch and detailed lookouts there was nothing more to do, and we turned in, higher up the beach this time.
It was a flat calm and, though lulled by the lapping of the water and gentle whispering of leaves in the jungle behind, sleep did not come to me for a long time. Ordeal by mosquitoes was not the only cause. It was true we had water, and food for a bit (the first thing to do would be to explore inland for more) but our chances did not look good. The poor devils on Pohm-Pohm would have to be taken off before us, while every day would see the energetic Jap spreading south. I prayed, very hard, with the fervent hope that past laxity when times were good would not count too much against me and realising how my old, familiar nursery prayer was now starkly apt (‘… Thou has warmed me, clothed me, fed me; please listen to my evening prayer’). I had never gone short of food or clothing in my life and it was salutary to think of all the times I had repeated these words without much feeling. Curiously enough, it must be said that, though there were to be moments in the next two months when hope seemed to be gone, I never lost the underlying certainty that all would be well in the end. I do not know whether this was Naval training, religious faith, or what. Though doubtless helped by the necessity to appear outwardly confident, it was not natural optimism as I have a volatile Irish temperament sometimes given to depression. Ultimately this feeling took the form of seeing myself, in my mind’s eye, walking into the drawing room at home and saying ‘Am I lucky to be here?’
Daylight brought two surprises, one seemingly good, the other seemingly bad. Tien Kuan was gone, perhaps having got away with all the survivors to leave us top of the list for nightly rescue. And one of the lifeboats was high and dry. It proved to be holed and battered, an expedition along the sand returning with the news that the second boat was in the same state some way away. Our hearts sank. It looked at first as though they had struck a reef or simply foundered with their occupants, but closer inspection revealed that both had been evacuated in an orderly manner as there were such details as a matchbox on a thwart and a pair of gym shoes, dry, in the stern sheets. So it was possible they had proved too unseaworthy and been cast adrift after their occupants had somehow been taken on board the towing craft.
A little later the sound of engines sent us scurrying into the jungle. A reconnaissance plane circled low over Pohm-Pohm and then our island but seemed satisfied that we could be left to whatever devices we might have and departed. He paid us a similar visit in the afternoon and twice daily thereafter, the nuisance value being considerable.
I took the two leading hands and Mackintosh the linguist, all of us armed, on a jungle exploration to see if we could discover anything edible or signs of civilisation. The going soon became hard and provided a mini-drama that did the four of us a lot of good even if it was seen as a gastronomical failure by our companions.
We made ten yards a minute, taking it in turn to lead the way against the clinging mass of vegetation and decayed woodwork. Straggling creepers pressed back into place behind the last man, or rotting branches fell to a bayonet stroke, to be pulped under foot and disgorge a legion of little red ants that trailed into the dusty leaves. Thin shafts of vertical sunlight fought through the trees, weaving as the branches stirred to chequer and mottle our steaming world. An oppressive mustiness stung the nostrils; there were no half measures in this life; everything was either grossly ripe or rotten.
Now and again a butterfly as big as my hand rose zig-zagging out of the undergrowth, its passage visible through the trees as successive flashes of red and blue and once, balanced on a dead trunk, I looked down horrified on to the yellow and black diamond pattern of a snake, before it raised its head slowly under my upraised foot and was gone. When an hour had passed, excuse enough for a rest, we sat down. Ahead was nothing but jungle, and it was well that we had marked our track by white gashes in the softest plants, where sap oozed frothily and trickled down the emerald stems. It would soon be time to start back to the anxious men by the battered boat and say what was written in everybody’s eyes, that this was an uninhabited and foodless island.
Suddenly Brown raised a grimy hand. There was nothing but a subdued squawking in the tree tops and then, faint but quite unmistakable, a distant tap-tap-tap. We kept still. For perhaps a quarter of an hour we listened as it grew louder and louder. There were several possibilities. It might be natives blazing a trail, someone who had been shipwrecked on the other side of the island or the enemy exploring a new conquest.
It came on. We crouched in the undergrowth, peering ahead. Tap-tap-tap … As it grew, we could make out the rustling of feet in the leaves, and then the forceful brushing aside of foliage and dried timber. Leading Seaman Witherley, whose theatrical attitude would have put Bill Cody to shame, was just in front of me. A huge drop of sweat rolled down his cheek and plopped upon a leaf There were four purposeful clicks as our hammers came back and the tension was electric. I imagined the ugly masklike face under a Jap bowl helmet that was about to present itself, and could almost see the expression of agony and amazement as our shots rang out. At least we could get in the first volley.
And then Mackintosh, unable to contain himself any longer, raised his head a couple of inches.
There was a raucous yell, a flurry of powerful wings, immediately repeated, and two huge turkey-like birds with red heads and beaks like cricket bats rose ponderously into the tree-tops! We were so flabbergasted that no shot was fired. There was silence for a moment and then the pent-up emotions of the last 24 hours were loosed in uncontrollable laughter*.
Less amused, however, was PO Cook Hobbs when he heard how we failed to vary the menu, now standardised at two biscuits for breakfast, a helping of the Army’s tinned ‘Meat and Veg’ for lunch, and two biscuits for supper.
Nothing happened that night, nor, as was to be expected, the following day. Camp had been moved to where the stream broadened into a jungle pool and all hands lay about in the shade. A little after midnight there was a shout ‘Boat ahoy’ and, wonderful to hear, Terry’s answering boom. He could not get in close but could take about 20 and I sent these splashing happily out. To their deaths as it happened. We had a few shouted words—he said that Singapore had fallen the day before—February 15—the enemy had landed in several places in Sumatra, the Tien Kuan had been scuttled at Pohm-Pohm to forestall further bombing, and there were still some survivors there. The launch turned, accelerated into the darkness, and he was gone.
The future appeared bleak again. Especially when there was no sign of Terry the next night, nor the one after that. It looked as if he had been captured, or perhaps the launch had broken down. There was now only three days’ supply of food left and the ugly prospect of starvation loomed closer. Anxiety gnawed at our vita
ls and the ration was cut. It was then that I realised what a treasure we possessed in Hobbs. The cook branch in the Navy, though vital, is not usually productive of leaders but Hobbs was a marvel as a morale booster; the worse the situation the more cheerful he became. ‘What shall we have today sir?’ he would say. ‘There’s M & V, M & V, or M & V.’ I would reply solemnly ‘I think we’ll have M & V’ ‘Then M & V it is. Sir!’ Needless to say we had nothing to eat it with and made use of shells (I still have mine).
During the day one could not but admire our surroundings, beautiful near-white sand, the warm turquoise sea as clear as glass, the different greens of the vegetation and, of course, the sky, as often as not blue. Why, pre-war millionaires paid thousands for less! But they would not have had to endure the mosquitoes at night. These tormented us without respite. Most of us had the Army issue tropical shorts, really short trousers turned up to button on the thigh; let down and tucked into socks at night they were quite effective but one’s face and hands suffered dreadfully. And the hermit crabs continued to be a confounded nuisance.
Alarm Starboard!: A Remarkable True Story of the War at Sea Page 20