大象传媒

During our stay at Kinkaseki, one supply of Red Cross food parcels were received. The Japanese opened and emptied the contents and put them in the store that was at the bottom of a huge flight of concrete steps. These steps in fact separated the two levels of the camp, the Japanese occupying the higher level and the prisoners the lower. In charge of this store was a Japanese guard who we had nicknamed 'laughing boy' simply for the reason that everything to him appeared to be a laughing matter. To be fair though he was one of the less brutal of our guards. As we came back from work each day and entered the camp all eyes would look to the top of the steps to see if he was standing there. If he was, a huge cheer would go up, more particularly if he was seen to be twirling the keys of the store around his finger. Though the Japanese helped and fed themselves to the food of these parcels, there were times when they would make an issue of something to us prisoners. Seeing him standing there would raise our hopes and he made it obvious he enjoyed his important role and while we were waiting to be dismissed from parade, he started slowly, almost majestically, to come down the steps twirling the keys with a huge grin on his face. We stood there of course with baited breath to see if he would stop at the store and more importantly unlock the door. Mind you, it didn't always have a happy ending for us, as he was not averse to the practical joke. Very often he would go through the complete ritual only to lock the door and go away. In order to capture this environment, Robbie Burns was at it yet again and wrote a song with the obvious title of 'Laughing Boy'. It was set to the tune of a very old song called 'Little Pal'. Though I have some recollection of this song I'm not sure how close the tune was to the original but this is how I sing 'Laughing Boy'.

Laughing Boy you're all the world to me. After all it's you that's got the key. You the workers' idolise and your face we long to see. If you lend a listening ear you'll hear each worker's plea. I want you to be laughing boy what the rest couldn't be laughing boy. I have put all my faith and my hopes on you to do all the things that the others cannot do. So when you go to the store laughing boy and you open the door laughing boy and you see all the tea, bully beef, ham and veal, don't forget about me laughing boy. Down the mine every day laughing boy. For an issue I pray laughing boy. Won't you show me you care and please answer my prayer and bring those keys down the stairs laughing boy.

Now as we were in captivity for 3 1/2 years it meant we spent 3 Christmas' as prisoners of war and you may ask, how did you spend Christmas under such circumstances. Well really it wasn't any different from any other time but I must say if there was a period a little better than others, it was about the half way stage of our captivity and that would have included Christmas 1943 when I remember we were given a day off from work. Certainly in spite of the harsh realities, I must have felt there was still some purpose left in my life for I scribbled a few lines on the day and took time to put in verse of how I spent Christmas day 1943 and I simply called it 'Christmas Day in Taiwan'.

Christmas comes but once a year, as a prisoner of war it was not of good cheer
If you read these few lines you'll no doubt understand, how Christmas was spent in this far distant land
The rally was sounded an hour before dawn, and roll call was sounded was a bitter cold morn
We returned from our huts when dismissed from parade, to find on the tables our breakfast was laid
One bowl of rice, one bowl of stew that's all we got, but what could one do
That meal completed, we could only patiently wait for our dinner in a bowl instead of a plate
'Twas not Christmas for the nips but it so happened to date, was a day and a year which they celebrate
So out on the parade ground we stood in the cold, bowing our heads and hearing strange stories told
This over a service for us we requested, and for once in our lives we were left unmolested
And dressed in our clothes of no great apparel, we sang 'O Come All Ye Faithful' and two other carols
Mid morning the hut leaders by the bugle were called and five fags per man in there hands were installed
Then dinner time came a delightful surprise, "there's meat in the stew" from the cook house came cries
'Twas the first we had seen for over six weeks and greatly preferred to potato tops and leeks
We had never before been given a sweet but today we had bananas, it was such a lovely treat
The afternoon was quiet and with little to be said and with nothing better to do we lay on our bed
Sleep I am sure only came to a few as in our minds were our loved ones and all whose we knew
That back in dear Blighty our country, our home, they were thinking of us as were were of them
Six O'clock came we got our meals to complete and with chopsticks not spoons, our tea we did eat
Instead of rice and fish stew, it was rice and fish sauce, with a rabbit stew at 7 as an extra course
All eating completed we all started singing, hark what is that sound, is it not church bells a ringing
Alas no, it was a bugle call for roll call was at 8. Then an order came through it will be an hour late
So we kept on with our singing as if we didn't care, for all that was missing, yes even the beer
We sang 'Auld Lang Syne' a few minutes before 9 and as a bugle call sounded, we fell in to line
The Jap officer came round and to end our delights said, "roll call is over, put out the lights"
So that's how we spent Christmas, you may say a hard case but we are not too down-hearted, we know a change must take place
And when that time comes, how happy we'll be to return to our homes, contented and free

During my time as a prisoner of war, I came across a poem written by the eminent Canadian poet Robert W Service. I found it to be very inspiring. Certainly when the going was tough, which was quite often, the lines of this poem virtually renewed one's determination to survive and I would like now to recite for you 'The Quitter' by Robert W Service.

When you're lost in the wild and you're scared as a child and death looks you bang in the eye, and you're sores a boil it's according to hoile to cock your revolver and die. But the code of a man says fight all you can and self disillusion is barred, in hunger and woe, oh it's easy to blow, it's the hell served for breakfast that's hard. You're sick of the game, well now that's a shame, you're young, you're brave and you're bright, you've had a raw deal I know but don't squeal, buck up to your damnest and fight
It's the plugging away that'll win you the day so don't be a piker old pard, just draw on your grit it's dead easy to quit, it's keeping your chin up that's hard.
It's easy to cry that you're beaten and die, it's easy to cray fish and crawl, but to fight and to fight when hopes out of sight, that's the best game of them all.
And though you come out of each gruelling bought all beaten broken and scarred, just have one more try, it's dead easy to die, it's the keeping on living that's hard

Towards the end of 1944, the area of our camp was continually bombed. We virtually prayed for the Americans to land and liberate us but it's as well they didn't for it's now known that had the attempt been made, orders had been issued by the Japanese high command to anhialate us all with strict instructions to leave no traces. We knew a tunnel was being bored from the mine to the camp and we were told it was for quicker and easier access but again, we know now it was also to be used if necessary, for our extermination. No sooner had it been opened and in use, when it was confirmed that the camp was to close and we were to be moved. Every day for about 3 weeks, we were marched about 4 miles to a railway siding carrying camp stores and equipment. Then in mid May 1945, 2 1/2 years after our arrival, we finally left Kinkaseki. It was at 2 o'clock in the morning when they marched us about 5 miles to a railway station. We were in fairly good spirits having left the horrors and nightmares of the mine behind us. After a 2 1/2 hour train journey, followed by another march, we arrived at a village that was beside a fast moving river and at the bottom of a huge mountain. The stores and equipment we had previously carried were now in warehouses and we were made to carry loads of between 40 and 50 kilos, more than most of us weighed. We had been prisoners for over 3 years and all in a dreadful state. We crossed the river by way of a suspension bridge and then began what turned out to be an 8 hour trek up the mountain. We were given only 4 short breaks but with nothing to eat or drink and at 8 o'clock at night, 18 hours in to our journey, we finally reached a clearning at the top of the mountain. We literally crawled our way for the last hour or so because of the steepness of the mountain. There was no accommodation for us and it was the only time I knew the Japanese to recognise the limits of endurance. We were left alone to lay in our collapsed and exhausted states. Looking back to that time and the following weeks, 14 in all, it is truly remarkable and almost a miracle that we survived. For the whole of the time, they even trained machine guns upon us as we slept. the daily routine consisted of three parties being formed. One to go back to the village to collect more stores and equipment, another party built huts with material obtained from the jungle and a third party were made to clear and till the land and plant sweet potatoes. This work, because it was so heavily surpervised, was the one most feared. In all our time, we were never ever hungrier, worked harder or beaten more. I forever will remember the day the camp sergeant major thrashed me mercilessly till I lost consciousness and all control over bodily functions. He simply went made and his eyes haunted me for years. Then in mid August, when it seemed we could carry on no longer, the end came. For three days we knew that something was happening but dared not be too optimistic. On the fourth morning, we woke to find all the guards gone with only the Japanese commandant and interpreter left who told us hostilities had ceased. It is so difficult to describe the following days except to say that few living can lay claim to the experience of such joy and relief.

A few days later, we went down the mountain for the last time and trucks waiting there drove us to the outskirts of Taihoku, the then capital of Taiwan. We occupied a two storey wooden building which had the letters POW painted on the roof and we were there for twelve days. However, this period was marred by a most unfortunate and frightening incident. With the best intentions, the Americans attempted to drop food supplies but the parachutes didn't open and 60 gallon oil drums hurtled to the ground. Some hit the building and the tragedy of it all was that after surviving 3 1/2 years of captivity, three prisoners were killed. On September 6th 1945, American marines came and in every sense of the word, liberated us. A journey to the docks and most of us were carried aboard an American destroyer by the crew who couldn't believe we were alive. I recall standing against a rail of this ship staying with my eyes tranfixed till Formosa became a speck on the horizon. I certainly wouldn't have believed then that over 40 years later, if granted three wishes, one of them would be to return, not strictly as a tourist but to see again the mine and the places where I was held captive. Out at sea, we were transferred from the destroyer to an American aircraft carrier, the 'Block Island' and were taken to Manila in the Philippines. I was immediately taken to hospital staying almost 3 weeks and gaining over 2 stone in weight. We left the Philippines in early October in another American ship, the 'Marine Shark' and with only one stop at Pearl Harbour in Hawaii, we crossed the Pacific Ocean sailing past Alcatraz and under the golden gate into the harbour of San Francisco. An overnight stay and a long journey ended at a huge military base in Washington DC. For 10 days, we were fated and given tremendous hospitality which helped considerably toward our recuperation. The next stage was the five day and night railway extravangaza across Canada, arriving to spend a night to remember in New York. Since leaving England some 4 years earlier, I had then travelled completely around the world and was then soon to embark for the second time upon the 5 day voyage across the Atlantic, this time in a homeward direction. Almost fittingly and in style, I sailed home in the renowned 'Queen Mary' and the bands played us ashore at Southampton. So it was then on Tuesday 20th November 1945, almost 4 months after my release, I came home to a reunion of extreme emotion and great joy with experiences and memories to last my lifetime.

Well, that's almost it, except for a few final comments and tributes. I am often asked of my views of the dropping of the atom bomb and of the Japanese. It is generally accepted that what happened at Hiroshima and Nagasaki brought the war swiftly and suddenly to it's end and subsequently saved more lives than it destroyed, so I've always regarded it as an act of expediency. However, I understand and commend those who believing in the power of prayer, pray for no more Hiroshima's. It has never been of personal satisfaction or comfort that my survival was at the cost of so many lives all be it they were Japanese. I can now regard the younger generation of the Japanese with a certain indifference but not so my contemporaries. When I see them, I cannot but wonder if they were one of our brutal guards and I never fail to go cold or feel my hair bristle. I cannot believe there are any who have remorse or are in need of my forgiveness.

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