大象传媒

It was dusk now and I made my way back to the column and told my immediate friends that I was going that night, before the march began again. So, in full view, I rifled the Japanese baggage for what I could lay my hands on and managed to get several packets of Japanese cigarettes 鈥� I didn鈥檛 know for sure what they could be used for. Then I paused for a while and looked at the faces of the man I had seen and slaved with for three years. They were looking at me and probably working out what my chances would be. Some men said 鈥済ood luck鈥�. They probably thought that there would be plenty of Japanese in the hinterland making their retreat 鈥� they were right too, we had passed several small groups on our march out. Then a voice called out 鈥淐an I come with you Ted鈥�. It was a friend with whom I had worked a great deal. I was glad as I knew him to be reliable and one of the best 鈥� he was one of the original soldiers captured earlier at Moulmein in 1942 鈥� but my original plan had been to go alone.

I said 鈥渁ll right, but go and get some more cigarettes.鈥� Another pause whilst this took place 鈥� the guards could not see everybody 鈥� then we were ready to go. The men were looking all the time and wondering. Then two more men, very good men too, were prepared to take their chance in an escape bid and asked me if they could come as well. Once again the comedy of stealing cigarettes (but comedy it was not) was secretly carried out, though each man had to take the risk of getting them himself; it was not for me to be the only man to do it. In the prison camp, one gets to know who are reliable and who are not. These three men were reliable and that made three KOYLIs of which I was one, and one Cameronian.

It was quite dark now and we slid away separately into the undergrowth, to meet again further in as arranged, well away from our guards and fellow prisoners, picking up the man hiding in the hollow on the way. The men said later they were surprised I took him.

We lay low in the heavily wooded countryside within earshot of the column. Eventually we heard shouts and knew they were ready to continue; we had just made it! The shouts could have been our names, we couldn鈥檛 tell and no one came looking for us. Soon we were alone - but free. It was a good feeling, even if apprehensive.

The night was dark, but there was enough moonlight for us to be able to see and we had only gone a little way when we heard a whistle nearby. An RAF sergeant appeared. He too had been in the column but he had not long been a prisoner, not browbeaten as we had been for three years; just a few weeks. Could he come with us he asked. That made six. I asked him if he could tell us which the North Star was, he did so and I decided we would go in the opposite direction back towards Rangoon, but not by the road 鈥� that would be asking for trouble.

We set off in our agreed direction, single file, then we came upon the road we had marched up 12 hours earlier. We gave the road a good look over from the trees and crossed over carefully and quietly and began our walk into 鈥� we did not know what. With three years of Japanese prisoner of war life behind (at least for four of us) we were very careful indeed. We didn鈥檛 want to bungle things now.

Despite our anxiety I was thrilled. Freedom of a fashion. But, had we jumped out of the frying pan into the fire?

We made our way through semi-jungle then we skirted a small plantation until we were brought to a halt by reaching a small river. We turned and followed the river, using a little track by the side. The night was very dark now. Soon we reached a village and dogs began barking so we stopped and looked carefully in that direction. We didn鈥檛 know what to expect. After a little while, after looking carefully over the place, I suggested that the five of us who could speak any Japanese words should go boldly through, talking loudly in Japanese, to give the impression to the villagers that we were Japanese soldiers passing through. This we did with grim humour, and we carried on. We were to learn later from the Headman of the village that we were taken for a Japanese patrol.

Through the village and on. Very soon it would be daybreak and then we could look around, but Rangoon was our target and that was about twenty miles away.

As first light appeared we could see we were in flat country. One of our party decided to try and get himself a drink of water, so he climbed down the embankment to get one. He stepped into the river 鈥� right up to his thighs in mud. That was an anxious moment, but with help from his friend he managed to get back to firm ground. No water 鈥� but much wiser. During this episode a long canoe came into view with several villagers on it calling across in Burmese not to drink the water, so within a short while, people in front and behind us would know there were six nondescript Britishers in the vicinity. However, events were 鈥榮o far so good鈥�.

Later, whilst we were resting by the river, a lone villager passed us without saying a word. None of us could speak Burmese, but he must have had the shock of his life. He must have reported our presence because later, another villager came out to us and told us to go back with him to the village - the one we had passed through in the night. We did, and were told how very dangerous it was as Japanese groups were continually passing through. We were told this by the Headman who was called Ma-e-tin ad his wife was called Ko-ni. Quick explanations followed and he said he would give us food and drink and shelter but it was very dangerous for us, and for him. We understood.

We were kept for nine days in this village in a Basha (a bamboo bungalow on stilts), which was a meeting room for the village and it is the same all over the country. Night approached and inside the room it was pitch, pitch dark, so dark we were unable to see each other, but there was a small window space cut out of the wall to let the night air in. It was a vantage point for escape if necessary. During the night we could feel the silence, black and heavy.

We heard a Japanese patrol enter and leave the village. They were very near our hiding place 鈥� actually underneath it 鈥� and we listened to their voices. We were very scared, it is no use denying it, but eventually they moved off and the same thing happened again the next night. We were all prepared to go through the opening in the wooden wall if we had to. This was simply a desperate thought in a desperate situation 鈥� the window was twelve feet above the ground but someone had found rope.

In the inky blackness inside, each had his own thoughts, and mine went to saying the Rosary. I had managed to get them while working in a building somewhere in Rangoon. Good fortune stayed with us again that night, and once more we thankfully listened to their departing footsteps. These troops were on the run and making their way in the same direction as we had been when we moved up the road, their intention apparently was to cross the Sittang and Salween Rivers and on to Malaya or Thailand.

We were still not out of the wood. Six more days and nights we were to stay in the village and we were not allowed outside the building, so we were still not really free.

The days were hot and dry and the nights pitch black and there was very little we could do, and the little Burmese lady, Ko-ni, kept bringing us rice and vegetables to eat. They were risking a lot by harbouring us.

One morning, very early, we were roused and told to run to a chicken hut across the paddy fields. A young boy showed us the way and then left us. We ran across the dry soil and into a hut, and that is where we stayed, with the chickens, for several hours until mid-morning. I remember standing there on the floor in the gloom, when several of us shouted out in chorus. We were being bitten by huge red ants on our bare feet. We shook them off and tried sitting on shelves or chicken roosts or anything where our feet were off the floor and trying to be quiet at the same time. We held our breath and ticked off the minutes, waiting for the boy to return to tell us it was safe to return to the village. When we got back, we told our hosts that we wanted to go back to Rangoon but we were still forced to remain there. Perhaps they were negotiating with a village further away in our direction to take us, and we found out afterwards that this is what they had been doing. These were dangerous times for anyone harbouring Britishers.

Twice more the race to the chicken hut took place and twice more we spent the night there, until the boy came to tell us it was safe to return. There must have been look-outs. One time was a false alarm but three nights in the hut was something of an experience.

We had been nine days in the village 鈥� its name was Thandin 鈥� and events were moving very fast although we knew nothing. We asked the Headman to be allowed to go and he finally agreed 鈥� he was probably relieved to see us go. He asked us all to sign our names so he could give them to the Army when they came. We did this and made our grateful thanks and set off 鈥� this time with a guide.

Along the river bank we went, feeling good and in high spirits and crossed over to the other side via a foot bridge into another village where there were quite a number of Burmese villagers about, some with rifles, and it must have been a big surprise for them to see six ragged Britishers, the first they had seen for several years. They probably knew of our presence and the reason for being there as no doubt their neighbours in the other village would have told then, and also the ones in the canoe. We gave them the remainder of our cigarettes and it made our presence easier and as we moved off they called something after us in Burmese, but we didn鈥檛 answer them. We had previously given some of our cigarettes to the friends in the first village and we also gave some to our guide, so the cigarettes came in handy after all.

Soon after passing through the second village our guide said he would have to leave us. He pointed out to us the railway line which was a little way further on and would take us back to Rangoon 20 miles away. We thanked him very much and continued on and then we walked towards the railway line, climbed the embankment and over the rails and down the other side. A wonderful feeling of exhilaration filled us. After three years we finally were on our last lap to freedom.

We walked fast, through the morning and into the afternoon. The hot sun blazed down on us and we talked occasionally and joked a little. We were very keen on getting back to Rangoon where we hoped to meet the 14th Army. We reasoned that all the Japanese would have left the City and as mentioned before, events were moving very fast, of which we didn鈥檛 have any knowledge whatsoever. Back in the prison we had heard via local Burmese, whilst we were working outside, that Mandalay had fallen to the British and Indian troops. Mandalay was 400 miles away and that was a long way indeed, but the Emperor鈥檚 army was in retreat and the British and Indian soldiers moved very fast after Mandalay as we were soon to find out.

Towards mid-afternoon, still walking very quickly, we passed Indian soldiers dug in, in their forward positions. They must have had us in their sights for quite some time as we were the only moving objects for miles. They greeted us with welcome smiles, but what a sight we must have looked. We laughed and waved back and kept on walking until met by an astounded British officer who couldn鈥檛 believe his eyes at seeing us. He took us to the Field Officer in charge who showed great surprise also. We were warmly welcomed and after telling our story rum was handed out all round. They asked if there were any Japanese around. We said no, not at least as far as our last two villages were concerned. The date was 8th May 1945 鈥� 10 days after we left Rangoon. Up to then it didn鈥檛 hold any significance for us. The officer asked us if we knew the date. We replied 鈥渘o鈥� and they then told us it was VE day but we knew nothing of what had been happening in the world apart from bits we heard whilst working in the City.

We were later given clean field uniforms and then we burnt the clothes we had worn for so long. We were finally free and the war was over for us (but not in other parts of the Far East 鈥� there would be another three months of hostilities yet) 鈥� we were new men 鈥� and free.

Soon after, we went aboard transport planes in twos and we flew off from a makeshift air strip. I was the last to go 鈥� I was no longer in a hurry 鈥� and so our journey to India and England. Looking down from the plane I could see the rich green of the Burmese jungle and the parched dry earth of the paddy fields. It was my last view of Burma where I had spent the last 4 years and 9 months. I couldn鈥檛 help but think how my circumstances had changed.

I flew to Chittagong via Akyab then to Madras, Poona, and Karachi, then to somewhere in the Middle East 鈥� I could tell by the smell of the camels 鈥� landing at night time and departing early in the morning. Then to Palestine, Cyprus and somewhere in France and so the Sussex in England. We must have been given some preferential treatment because everything was done so quickly and efficiently. All the flying was done by transport planes.

I was indeed, finally, free.

Ted Freeman
2 Bn King鈥檚 Own Yorkshire Light Infantry
(rewritten from Dad鈥檚 own words in 1990 and 1995 and again in 2004)

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