The Fleet Shore Accommodation appeared to be in reasonable shape. What a pity I did not have the Sultan badge with me—taken down from the Wardroom bulkhead with the vow to put it up again one day—but, of course, it was several fathoms down in the Kung Wo. New fire engines stood in Macintosh’s brigade HQ (it will be remembered he was a staunch companion when on the run) the administration offices were in full swing and as I cadged a lift in a lorry to Singapore the lights came on in Captain Atkinson’s old window.
Darkness gave full play to lighted kampongs and the glow of fires between palm trunks on either hand as we clattered through Sambawang and Ni Soon, the latter still a desolation where it had been burnt out by incendiaries. There were fleeting glimpses of Chinese and Malay stalls, and white-clad Indian figures looming suddenly in the headlamps to be missed by inches. Back among Singapore’s honking traffic, drifts of conversation came through the jabber, ‘Vairy cheap, only 50 dollar’—‘Cor, t’ain’t worth a tanner!’—‘Here John, this one, how much?’—‘Yessir, Yessir, come in!’ Singapore was getting back on its feet all right.
At Bombay I scoured the hospitals for my cousin Jack Barton; word had it that, in bad health, he had arrived from a prison camp at Palembang, but he had already been sent home. Fierce looking Indian soldiers were embarked, armed to the teeth but not without their creature comforts; the morning watchmen were surprised to be serenaded—when we sailed for Java—by cocks in trucks on the flight deck. Their owners were looking forward to quelling the trouble that had arisen in Indonesia. Having had the Japanese yoke removed, this part of the world was the first to flex its muscles against the old colonial power, a practice which, of course, spread. Landing them at Batavia, we called at Tarakan to pick up 1,300 Australian soldiers and retraced our steps to Sydney via Morotai.
Passing one small island the ship was stopped and a team of shipwrights sent ashore. For all I know the Captain had made some mental note when going the other way, but the next we knew was several enormous tree-trunks being towed back to the ship. They were hoisted on to the flight deck and secured down. Ruckers had found an architect among the RNVR officers who now got down to designing a house. Except that the tree-trunks caused worry in rough weather encountered later, that was as far as it went for the time.
All of a sudden I received a spate of wonderful letters. They were from many of the men in my party left at Padang in March 1942. Home at last after unspeakable hardships and ill treatment, they made little mention of these until pressed. Here are some:
16/11/45
My name is J.H. Hughes, Able Seaman. I was in your party that got to Sumatra by junk after Singapore fell and I was glad to hear that you got away and did not get taken prisoner like myself It all seems so long ago. I got back about three weeks ago. I apologise for not having written before, I am very sorry. I’ve been a little forgetful, can’t get settled yet.
What I really want to say is that I am very grateful and want to thank you for giving my mother and Dad first hand news, and making them feel easier, when you wrote in July 1942 about me.
Hoping you are in the best of health and enjoying life as much as myself
There was one from K. Jones, ‘Ordinary Seaman’, who had been so imperturbable in the boat, lying off that island, when a Jap fighter came at us—
‘… since that time I have experienced many hardships, but as you will see by the address I am now with my people.’
Of course, poor Jones was now an AB of three years standing. There was one from Able Seaman Brown, whom (with AB Witherley) I had rated up to Acting Leading Seaman; it may be remembered that they, with Macintosh and myself, had shared an ambush for two toucans.
28/10/45
I am writing to let you know how really grateful I am to you for informing my parents of my whereabouts and health. It relieved their minds somewhat and at least they knew I was still living. I sincerely hope your plucky escape across the Indian Ocean has left no serious mar on your health.
Well, Sir, I must thank you once more, and hope your relatives and friends are reunited and all as happy as we are at home. So now I will close hoping that sometime in the future I may have the good fortune to sail with you again.
I replied saying that I had felt awful leaving them in the lurch and was never certain that I had done the right thing; also I asked what had happened to him.
11/12/45
Thank you so much for your welcoming letter, and hope you are in the best of health. First of all, Sir, (this leaving us in the lurch business) I can assure you none of us think of it that way, personally I think it took guts to see it through.
Well, Sir, you asked for a brief account of what happened when you left, so here goes. The Japs came in on the 16th and on the 18th confined us to the Dutch barracks at Padang. Their first job was to send all Naval and RAF officers to Singapore … [there follows a description of forced labour at Padang, Medan, Mergui, Jaroy, Modmein, and Thanbyvzayat] Well, Sir, we finally reached Siam after 2½ years of downright slavery, but I suppose you have heard all the horror stories by this time so I shall not bother to relate them.
This is all for now if at any time you are in England, I would consider it a pleasure to meet you personally. Well goodbye, Sir, and the best of luck to you and the Formidable.’
Then I got a letter from dear old Hobbs, the Petty Officer who had been so magnificent throughout the period on the run. He had clearly had a terrible time.
6/12/45
Hoping these few lines find you, as I wish to thank you for letting my wife know I was safe in Sumatra.
All the boys were very pleased when they heard that you and others had made a break, what days, eh Sir? I often think of Mr Monro, and the Japs took him from us the first day in Camp, many others are dead now, E.R.A. Roper, you remember him, I really forget them all, most of the Naval lads were lost when we were being shipped from Medan June 25 1944, in the Van Warywick an old Dutch liner; we were packed in the holds, at midday, on the 26th we were tin fished, two fine shots, sure would like to know the sub’s commander, roughly 300 men lost their lives, thousands more died of beri beri and starvation. I am on leave until 6.3.46 just getting over my beri beri. My eyes are very bad, but have not to wear glasses as my sight will return, hopes?
I could go on and write quite a book of our adventures from Repulse to the west coast of Sumatra to the east.
Well, Sir, I trust that all’s well with you. I am pensioned now. Cheerio and a Merry Xmas to you and yours.
PS. Hope to hear from you, at least every time a ring goes on the Coat, or some pretty one’s finger. All the best Sir.
Apparently at Padang the officers were separated from the men, as Colonel Warren had predicted to me. This did not always happen, however, witness Commander Philip Reid’s gallant behaviour mentioned earlier.
Then came a letter which I must say I was very pleased to receive. It was from Colonel Warren himself.
Army and Navy Club
2/12/45
I have recently seen your father at the Club and he has given me your address.
I got home a month ago and should have written before. I want to thank you— on two counts. First for carrying out your part of the contract made at Padang—you got across and, later, were a contribution to ‘the cause’. I congratulate you on your effort in the Pacific. Secondly for your letters to my wife and my cousin, Dorothy Hutton. So few people, I find, think of doing nice things these days that it is good to find someone who does.
I was with Commander Alexander most of our 3½ years and we flew out of Bangkok together. We were 6 months in Singapore (Changi) and 3 years in Siam. Bad in parts but we managed some fun sometimes. Jock Monro (RNR), Poole, and all nautics came through except Dickinson (MRNVR) who died. I saw Passmore yesterday, Waller in Bangkok, Campbell (now Colonel OBE!) in Ceylon. Broome and Davies have done excellently in Malaya, and will have a good story to tell no doubt. Lind rang me recently and sent me some photographs. Cox I saw in Ceylon.
E
veryone seems to be flourishing. No doubt you will be home soon. I’ve got a lot of refreshing (!) courses to do so don’t know where I’ll be, but Admiralty will always get me. I’d like to see you when convenient.
England’s a queer place and its not easy to adjust one’s ideas to the modern outlook I find. ‘Damn you Jack, I’m all right’ seems to be the viewpoint, and mud-slinging by those who make cheap money writing books, seems to have been a popular pastime. However, no doubt everything will adjust itself in time.
Good luck to you, my best wishes to you always and thank you again!
Colonel Warren eventually retired to America. It is one of my greatest regrets that he came back to live at Lymington near us without my knowing and died there in the mid-’70s. I expect he saved my life.
Though not unathletic I never had a strong constitution (nine operations have been clocked up to-date) and have doubts on my surviving a Japanese prison camp. Commander Alexander had of course been last seen at Dabo (when he gave me the opium) shepherding the rest of us through. There is a nice cameo of him in The Tragedy of Singapore, when as the senior officer of a camp he was sent for one day (the once gold oak-leaves on his cap black with grime) by the Japanese commandant. ‘You are to take over’ the latter said, saluting, ’Today Japan lost the war.’
This last, satisfactory post script to my Malayan experiences arrived as we heard that the ship would be going home immediately after Christmas. Leaving Australia was a bitter-sweet affair, in fact as far as the ratings were concerned the number that elected not to leave but be ‘demobbed’ down under was considerable. The hospitality shown to us all had been on a different plane to anything ever encountered before. I had been lucky with my introduction to Nell Knox but there had also been many others who had treated me as one of the family. Leaving them was not unlike leaving one’s family and I do not think there would have been much protest—at least among us regulars—at some postponement of our return. At the same time going home was going home and years of war had taught us not to pass up that one. It was decided to say a suitable thank you and this was done in the form of a memorable dance, or dances, first night ratings (3,500 guests) and second night officers.
HMS Formidable
1/1/46
You will have got my cable by now to say I am on the way home. Isn’t it exciting! Did you see John Bowles got married? I must write to him. Admiral Vian came and spoke to the ship’s company in glowing terms when we left Sydney and the actual departure was impressive with other ships cheering us, boats with their bands and ‘chuckers up’ keeping alongside, the crowds all waving from the shore. I could see Aunt Nell on her veranda through binoculars …
And so we sailed for Fremantle, Cape Town and home, the ship’s paying off pennant (traditionally a third as long again as herself) unable to rise much in the still air.
I was in due course less than happy in the Bay of Biscay. Heavy rolling also strained the lashings of the Captain’s tree trunks on the flight deck and caused concern for a short time. (Perhaps another jump into the future—some two years this time—may be permitted. Ruckers came to inspect my shore establishment—he was Director of Naval Training—and afterwards we talked. Expecting to get a life out of him I asked what had happened to the tree trunks we had brought home with some difficulty. What became of the eventual house? He fixed me with the look I knew so well. It had lost nothing in the intervening period; if anything it had gained from being crowned by an Admiral’s peak. ‘I live in it, dammit, I live in it,’ he said).
As he brought HMS Formidable alongside at South Railway Jetty, Portsmouth, and I picked out my parents from the sea of faces welcoming us, my mind went back eight years to when a brand new Midshipman had climbed the brow to the Nelson at exactly the same spot. In some ways it seemed yesterday, in others a century ago. The future was a pleasant question mark; one could look forward to a lot of things. But for me there would always be large blanks; there could be no shared delights with John, Edward or Sandy, as there used to be before the war. For the umpteenth time I wondered why I had been spared and not even one of them. A benevolent providence seemed to have been watching over me ever since I should have been on the fo’c’s’le of the Nelson when she hit a mine; there was the shell from the Bismarck that lodged in the fuel tank and failed to explode; the cancellation of the raid at Singapore because the enemy chose to attack first; the motor launch I nearly left in being never seen again; the delay in Sumatra which prevented me from sharing Terry’s fate; Sederhana Djohanis; and recently—if that kamikaze pilot had not decided to go round again …
Even now, 40 years on, if my luck seems to be temporarily out, I feel it is only someone redressing the balance.
*Aluminium foil dropped to clutter radar screens.
*Both were awarded the Cross of Liberation, posthumously, by De Gaulle.
†I went to see them at Farnham on return home and kept up with Gabrielle on and off until her death in 1979. Clive joined his father’s regiment and then retired to a farm in Norfolk where I have the pleasure of staying with him and his charming wife (and two Lyonic sons) from time to time.
Index
Admiralty Isles, 235
Addu Attol, 91
A.D.P. (Air Defence Position), 94, 97, 98, 100, 106
Aircraft Direction Room (A.D.R.), 232, 240, 243, 263
Aircraft Handling Party, 236, 243, 246, 264
Aitken Dott, 75
Alboran, 35
Aldershot, 135
Aldred, Petty Officer, 120
Algeciras Bay, 13
Algeria, 35
Alggeérie, 24
Algiers, 203, 204 –, 206
Alexander, Sir Harold, General, 38
Alexander, A., First Lord, 75
Alexander, C., Commander, 118, 119, 133, 154
Altenfiord, 216
Amakusa, I.J.N., 265
Anderson, General, 203
Anderson, Lieutenant, 210
Anson, Sir Peter, Rear-Admiral, 117
Apes Hill, 35
Arkansas, U.S.S., 81, 82
Ark Royal, H.M.S., 18, 71, 87, 206
Armitage, B.R., Flag Lieutenant, 107, 111
Arnold, General, 82
Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, 123, 127, 128
Arthur, Uncle, 205
Asdic, 22, 23, 34, 40, 43
Assiniboine, H.M.C.S., 79
Atkinson, T.K.W., Captain, 19, 30, 103, 121, 125, 173, 273, 275
Atkinson, Lieutenant, 263
Atlantic Charter, 86
Augusta, U.S.S., 81, 82, 84, 101
Aurora, H.M.S., 17
Australia, 184, 185, 269, 270, 279
Australians, 126, 127, 132, 133, 164, 269, 270, 273, 276
Avenger, H.M.S., 207
Avenger (aircraft), 225, 227, 231–243, 249, 254, 255, 257, 258, 262, 265
Aylwin, C., Captain R.M., 54, 57, 62
Back, T., Captain, 175, 199
Backhouse, Sir Roger, Admiral, 9
Baker-Creswell, T., Lieutenant R.M., 50, 88
Balbo, 241
Bangkok, 278
Banka Strait, 123, 141
Bapa, 180, 182
Bansalan, 183
Barton, A.H., Captain, Acknowledgements
Barton, Jack, 276
Basedon, Midshipman (S), 243
Basil, Uncle, 221
Basrha, 165
Batavia, 141, 144, 154, 156, 271, 273, 276
Battle of Britain, 39
Batu Pahat, 123
Bay of Biscay, 279
Beckwith, R.C., Lieutenant, 47, 50, 58, 62, 89, 105, 117, 134, 135, 273, 274, 275
Beckwith, Yvonne, 275
Beale-Browne, General, 39
Belisha H., 29
Bell, F.S., Captain (H.M.S. Exeter), 220
Bell, L.H., Captain (CO. Fleet), 124
Bergen, 51
Berger, Lieutenant, 249
Bermuda, H.M.S., 174, 175, 178, 201, 216–218, 220, 243–248, 251, 253
Birke
nhead, 46, 48, 188
Bigg-Wither, R.L., Lieut. Commander, 249
Bismarck, 47, 51–58, 61, 63, 64, 69, 70, 72, 74, 75, 83, 86, 100, 199, 205, 245
Blakang Mati, 141
Blunt, W.T., Commander. Acknowledgements, 112
Bofors, 94, 96, 97, 99, 260
Bombay, 196
Bondi, 228
Bone, 286
Bonhomme Richard U.S.S., 263
Bonnets over the Bordex, 128
Bonnie Dundee, 128
Borneo, 121, 272
Bowles, J., Midshipman, 7, 19, 20, 27, 40, 278
Bren, 127
Brest, 69
Brewster Buffalo (aircraft), 122
Brighton Hippodrome, 39
British Pacific Fleet (B.P.F.), 226, 235–237, 251, 261, 263, 268
Brooke, John, Lieutenant, 45
Brooke, John, Captain (and Mrs), 197
Brooke, Geoffrey, Lieutenant, 213
Brooke, Henry, Lieutenant, 221
Brooks, Bandsman, 114
Broome, R.N., 177, 180, 184
Brougham, Pat, Lieutenant, 112
Brown, Act. L/Sea, 149, 151, 277
Brown, John Ltd, 198
Alarm Starboard!: A Remarkable True Story of the War at Sea Page 37