大象传媒

Cont. from Part One.....
Consequently, I was becoming dehydrated and suffering weight loss and failing energy. I reported sick, only to find that I received no sympathy but instead (excuse the term) the biggest bollocking of my life. I was told that had I gone many more days the situation could have become very serious. After a few days in hospital replenishing my fluid levels and eating food that I never knew existed, I was back on deck with strict instructions to break up the salt tablets and swallow them a little at a time with plenty of water. I was warned that if I returned with the same complaint I would be charged with self inflicted injury. A complaint shared by everyone was prickly heat, some had attacks of boils and dysentery.

No "shore leave" and the thought of the nearest civilisation being 2,000 miles away resulted in the less hardy suffering from bouts of severe depression, to the extent of being flown back to Aussie for recuperation. Just before leaving Sydney I applied for permission to grow a beard; being reasonably successful I was allowed to carry on growing a full set. Then subsequently I suffered the agony of bugs getting trapped in it. I decided one morning after a restless night, that enough was enough. I set to work with scissors and razor. I clearly remember the white mask that appeared all over my face. My beard had protected my face from the sun and I looked like the Phantom of the Opera, even so, what a relief! However, my relief had a price attached to it, I was put on a charge for altering my identity1 My paybook had a photo of someone with a beard but the person holding the paybook had no beard. This was a very serious charge, and had I been anywhere else, I would probably have been hung drawn and quartered or at the very least, been stripped of my hook. Fortunately the skipper, apart from being sympathetic had a sense of humour. I was given 14 days confined to barracks; it was not recorded on my documents.

On the island we worked from dawn to dusk, there was no time for tropical routine, but it was not all doom and gloom. At times we received the privilege of extended "make and mends" when we would put on boots and gaiters to explore the shallow expanse of the lagoon where every type of coral and tropical fish existed. There was a deep pool in the lagoon which had been scooped out of the coral with explosives either by the Japanese or the Americans and used for swimming. The water temperature rarely fell below 90F, and the only way to cool down was to stand wet in a slight breeze. As regular as clockwork, we would get an advanced warning of a tropical rain storm, because it was always preceded by the rustling of the palm trees as the wind sprang up. There was time then to grab soap, strip off, and wait under the edge of the corrugated roof of the hut for the heavens to open up and provide a cold fresh water shower. There was no time to lose because the shower would stop without any warning and if you were not quick enough you would be left with soap on your body which would immediately dry up in the heat of the tropical sun.

If my memory serves me right we had two bottles of lager a week, and after saving a few tots we would assemble in a hut set aside for making merry, and drift into oblivion accompanied by someone knocking out a tune on an old piano. We had an open air cinema and films were exchanged with visiting ships. M.S.R.6 Mobile Storage Reserve was one of the many units making up MONAB 4.

Some of us were detailed to the eastern end of the island to operate the dispersal site where, during our time on Ponam, literally hundreds of all types of aircraft were dispatched to carriers of the BPF. Due to the unpredictable weather and extreme conditions in the tropics the average life of a British aircraft was 15 flying hours, and that of an American aircraft 25 hours. The difference between them was that a Seafire was designed as a short range interceptor for use in temperate climates, whereas the Corsair was designed for long range and operation under tropical conditions; it even had an air conditioned cockpit.

Earlier on I mentioned that we had no flush toilets. A walkway approximately 60 feet long led to a platform over the sea covered with a roof of palm leaves. Inside was a low bench with a series of holes where one would drop shorts, sit on a hole and contemplate. The most unusual thing about this bench was that at times every other hole would be left vacant to allow each
occupier to gaze down the adjacent one while holding in one hand, a fishing line. For some reason there was always an abundance of fish in this area; I have no idea what type of fish they were but we called them s..t fish! In exchange for a tot of rum, I had obtained from one of the Yankee Sea Bees a primus stove, on top of which a piece of steel plate made a perfect barbecue. After descaling the fish it would be placed whole on the plate and well cooked, allowing the flesh to fall off the bones. This left the bones and intestines intact thereby stopping the contents of the stomach contaminating the flesh. This fresh meat made a welcome change to our diet.

On Wednesday August 15th 1945, we received the good news that the Japanese had surrendered. Order of the day: Splice the Mainbrace. We were warned not to be too complacent, as thousands of Japanese would not accept defeat, and we were still considered to be operational, in fact it was not until March 2nd 1946 that the Americans considered that all hostilities had ceased. Anyone who served in the American forces up to that date were awarded the Asiatic Pacific Campaign Medal which was accompanied by the award of a pension for services rendered. During our stay on Ponam we came under the command of William.F.Halsey who was the Commander of the American 3rd fleet. He was put in charge of all Naval Forces in the South Pacific. At the end of the war the Asiatic Pacific Campaign medal and pension was offered to all who had served under the
command of the American Fleet but unfortunately for us, the new British Labour Government of 1945 would not allow us this privilege.

With reference to the end of the Pacific war. Sadly and in ways prophetically, Admiral Rawlings wrote, I have not seen the personal signals, or indeed seen all the official signals, but I am in no two minds about one thing; that the "fading out" of the task force and the manner in which this is being done is not only tragic, but is one which I would give much to avoid. To me, what is happening to its personnel and its ships seems to ignore their feelings, their sentiments and their pride; in so doing quite a lot is being cast away, for the Fleet accomplished something which matters immensely. I am not speaking of such enemy they met, nor of the difficulties they overcome, nor of the long periods at sea; I am speaking of that which was from the start our overriding and heaviest responsibility, the fact that we were in a position which was in most ways unique and was in any case decisive; for we could have lowered the good name of the British Navy in American eyes for ever. I am not certain that those at home have any idea of what these long operational periods mean, nor of the strain put on those in the ships, so many of whom, both officers and men, are mere children, for instance Leading Seamen of 19 and Petty Officers of 21. When I look back on that which this untrained youth has managed to accomplish and to stick out, then I have no fear for the future of the Navy, provided, but only provided, that we handle them with vision and understanding, and that we recognise them for what they were and are people of great courage who would follow one anywhere, and whose keynote was that the word "impossible" did not exist. And so I question the wisdom of dispersing a fleet in the way in which it is now being done. At the very least there should have been taken home to England a token force somewhat similar to that which was left in the operating area with the American Fleet when the tanker shortage required the withdrawal of the greater part of the Task Force. It seems to me that here was a matter which could have been utilised. in a dignified and far reaching manner, the arrival in home waters of ships who had represented the Empire alongside their American Allies, and who were present, adding their not ineffective blow, at the annihilation of the Japanese Navy and the defeat of Japan.

It may well be that the days will come when the Navy will find it hard to get the money it needs. Perhaps then a remembrance of the return and the work of the British Pacific Fleet might of helped to provide a stimulus and an encouragement to wean the public from counter attractions and those more alluringly staged. The arrival home of a token force at the time of the Victory celebrations might have fixed the British Pacific Fleet more firmly in the public's memory. But it was not to be. In time the Fleet quietly faded away, with the result that the Far Eastern Fleets may have been the largest assemblies of Commonwealth ships in history, but, like the three old ladies locked in the lavatory, nobody knew they were there. This was taken from John Winton's Book, "The Forgotten Fleet", pp 383/4.

Also in 1995 Harry Bannister of the Ponam Association applied to the Pentagon on behalf of it's members for the American Asiatic Pacific Campaign Medal in recognition of their service with the American Fleet. As from late 1997, after 52 years, the American Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal has been made available to all those who served in the British Pacific Fleet.

The possibility of pensions or medals, or reflections of a forgotten fleet were not on our minds as we prepared to leave Ponam for home. On the 20th of September 1945, H.M.S.Vindex was anchored off the sea loading line to the south of the island. Fortunately M.S.R.6 were to be one of the first units to leave. The Vindex which had set off from Java had on board hundreds of ex prisoners of war including some women internees. Several of the women were accompanied by young Japanese children and babies. These mothers had offered favours to Japanese officers in the prison camps in exchange for extra rations and medical care for sick and injured men. The hanger deck was full of stretcher cases of men suffering from the effects of treatment received at the hands of the Japanese. I have never seen such a sight of human suffering in all my life than that which I witnessed on that day. It made me realise how idyllic our lives had been in comparison, and that my youthful wish had actually come true: I had visited the island of my dreams in the South Pacific with its waving palms and blue lagoon... .And as the golden sun sinks slowly in the west, we say farewell to that exotic paradise island of Ponam.

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