大象传媒

During world war two my Father served in Burma and Malaya.
His family heard nothing from him for some considerable time because of the nature of his service.
He was a Chindit and he was with The Royal Engineers.
My Father is still alive age Eighty Three and I tell this story as he told it to me.
He used to carry in his back pack the following-five days food rations,explosives,a waterproof sheet, a very small blanket,water, ammunition,a gun,a baynet and a machete.
He slept in the open exposed to the cruel enemy , weather and mosquitos.
The leaches would crawl inside his socks leaving his legs red raw and bleeding.

The monsoons would last up to five weeks and the small waterproof sheet did not give much protection from these.
My fathers unit was meant to be removed from the jungle for a break but because their commanding officer was killed in a plane crash they were left there for nearly four years .
My father tells me of some of the terrible things he saw, , one particular thing he will not forget is the cruelty the Japanese inflicted on his fellow servicemen and women and the terrible things he saw in one of the concentration camps, he told me that this was a camp which had mainly women as prisoners, some of the women had been thrown down a well, father says he will never know if they were put down there while they were still alive.
When my father returned home he weighed just seven stone and he still has terrible nightmares and bouts of malaria.

I have written the following poem as a tribute to my father and all his fellow servicemen and woman.

Jungle Heat World War 11

Pen in hand with home in mind
Thoughts of Mother gentle and kind
He could not tell of places been
A secret dreadful things he'd seen.

In the jungles sweltering heat
His cruel enemy he would meet
They showed no mercy to his friends
He won't forget this until life ends.

Living in the danger zone
No time to dwell moan or groan
For six whole years in foreign land
Serving country ,obeying command.

Returning to his beloved home
Up on the fells again to roam
Looking back on treacherous days
Now safe in peaceful farming ways.

I am very proud of my father and I help with the Poppy Appeal.

God Bless all of those who sacrificed so much and I Thank You for reading this story.

Written by the daughter of a Chindit.

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