大象传媒

In Rangoon we were to see something never seen before and never likely to see again. We termed it, 'The biggest rice pudding in the world'. A warehouse had been filled with rice, a crop that is planted in the monsoon when it gets all the moisture it needs and then harvested in the dry season that follows, with an exceptionally low moisture content. The bombing had blown the roof off the warehouse and the monsoon rain had soaked the rice causing it to swell to several times its former size. This swelling had burst the warehouse walls and the great mass had poured out into the nearby road, making it quite impassable for vehicles. In addition the hot weather had turned the whole thing sour, with a small I can remember to this day.
As soon as possible the various members of No.5 C.O.B.U. gathered together and we took an empty house for the time we were there. It was then we heard the war with Germany had ended. This was good news indeed but the short-term effect for us was negligible. The Japanese had certainly withdrawn from Rangoon but there were still large numbers of them in different parts of Burma and they all had to be dealt with. We were very conscious too of the next move that would be the re-conquest of Malaya and Singapore, where so many of our fellow countrymen and allies were being treated with the utmost barbarism. However the long-term effect of the end with Germany could not be other than beneficial. It would mean that the supplies that for so long had been so short would now be forthcoming in far greater quantities.
While we were in Rangoon it seemed an ideal opportunity to visit the Shwe Dagon Pagoda, a vast temple complex in the centre of the city, and so one afternoon some eight of us piled into a jeep and went there. The first surprise was that the whole temple precincts were considered so holy that no boots or shoes were allowed inside. As we had no wish or intention of upsetting the Burmese religious sensibilities we complied with the instructions and put all of our army boots in the jeep. One of our number, a Scottish Lieutenant whose name I have forgotten, offered to stay outside and look after the jeep and boots, which we thought was most civil of him.
It was a most spectacular place, and the main pagoda was covered from top to bottom in genuine gold leaf. The subsidiary temples were covered in the most intricate woodcarvings altogether it made a fascinating afternoon. Eventually we thought the time had come to make our way back and we returned to the entrance. To our dismay the Lieutenant, the jeep and our boots were nowhere to be seen. Worse still it had started to rain. After waiting disconsolately for twenty minutes or so, the decision had to be made to walk back, in socks for some, in bare feet for others, over hard gritty road and paths, two miles that seemed twenty. Eventually we got back to the billets but of the jeep and boots there was no sign. Later in the evening the mystery was solved by a telephone from the RAF at Mingaladon Airfield who said that an army jeep was waiting for collection, our missing one. Of the Scotsman there was no trace but we heard later what happened. He was some years older than the rest of us, and was married with a wife in Calcutta. Before the war he had been employed there in the jute trade. While he was waiting outside the temple he had seen a RAF officer who said he was flying back to Calcutta that afternoon, and would be back in Rangoon the next day. The temptation to give his wife a surprise visit proved to strong to resist and off he went. When he did return his popularity was rock bottom.
After a week or two in Rangoon the port was in working order, the river was swept for mines, ships were coming in with supplies and the Combined Op personnel had done all they had to do. Our own unit was recalled to base near Bombay to prepare for the next venture which was clearly going to be Malaya. We travelled back by sea, which was so much more preferable to the long and difficult land route.
When we got back to Juhu Beach we found that certain changes were in process of being made. The political direction had changed from the coalition under the premiership of Winston Churchill to a Labour government under Clement Attlee. In their general election manifesto Labour made a number of promises to the troops one of which specified that after a certain amount of time spent overseas, from memory three years and six months, all ranks would be entitled to a posting back to Britain. This was exceedingly popular with the troops but posed a considerable problem for the commanders of the Navy, Airforce and Army. With what promised to be their biggest operation yet, a few months away, they were to lose a high proportion of their seasoned men. These losses were to be replaced with drafts from England, but who would be unaccustomed to jungle warfare, and who would need to get used to conditions so very different from Europe. A number of No. 5 COBU personnel who qualified for repatriation took the opportunity, and who could blame them. I checked up on my own timing and having left Scotland in March 1942 calculated I could apply for my return in August 1945. However I was very conscious of the fact that part of my old regiment, the Bedford Yeomanry, had formed part of the ill fated 18th Division which had landed in Singapore in February 1942 to go straight into captivity. I felt I owed it to them to stay on and do what was possible to facilitate their release.
It was clear then that the next item on the agenda was to replace much of our equipment which had served us well for some months but was now showing signs of wear and tear. Dust, dirt and monsoon rain had not improved the interiors of our wireless sets and our jeeps and trailers had been left in Rangoon for the benefit of others. I was asked to go to the Garrison Engineers Stores in Bombay to see what could be provided. Here I was yet again to encounter Indian Bureaucracy.
The stores foreman was a little Indian with the name B. Bashir. I remembered that because it was painted on the door to his office. My shopping list was considerable including some ten jeeps and trailers, as many wireless sets, plus a few more as spares, clothing, small arms with ammunition and numerous other odds and ends. B. Bashir looked terrified at this request. It was larger than anything he had been asked for before, and decided to hand over responsibility to his superior, the Garrison Engineer. Like many Indians he had difficulty in pronouncing the letter 鈥淰鈥�, making it sound like a 鈥淲鈥� so he declared 鈥淚f G.E. says prowide, I will prowide but if G.E. does not say prowide then how can I prowide鈥�
Obviously he could not be treated like the INA storeman in Rangoon so I asked where G.E. could be found. Having ascertained his whereabouts I paid him a visit, an elderly full colonel, who was most helpful. He gave his authority and the goods were delivered. He was a little to old for active service himself and seemed genuinely pleased to be able to help those still involved.
With new equipment and many new faces we began more training, fully expecting the next operation to be the toughest one yet. Possibly because of the change in personnel, and the extra numbers involved we were then designated as No6 C.O.B.U.
When all was ready, the newly constituted F.O.B parties complete with transport were ordered to cross the sub-continent from Bombay to Madras and there to load into the invasion fleet. It was a long but very interesting journey, taking several days, driving up the Western Ghats across the Deccan and ending up in the east coast port of Madras.
I was there in august that we heard that the Americans had dropped the atom bomb in Japan. This news meant little or nothing to us. What was an atom bomb? At school we had learnt that an atom was the smallest part of a molecule, which in itself was small enough, so why was the atom bomb a news worthy item? Then a day or so later came the news that a second atom bomb had been dropped. Meanwhile the loading of the ships proceeded according to the time schedule.
Then came the startling and totally unexpected news of Japan鈥檚 unconditional surrender. We found this hard to believe. In our experience the Japanese had never surrendered, preferring death to what they called the ultimate dishonour, but it was eventually confirmed to be correct. Then rumours proliferated, the chief one being that whatever government in Tokyo were to decide, the commander in Malaya would fight on whatever the consequences. This rumour proved to be quite unfounded, but we sailed in due course uncertain whether we would have to fight or not.
In the event all was well. We landed on Morib Beach between Port Dickinson and Port Swettenham, to be met by a row of Japanese officers who bowed low and handed over their personal weaponry. We then moved inland, through a town called Klang, up to the capitol of the Federated Malay States Kuala Lumpur.
It was there that the members of the new No6 COBU took up temporary residence in the former home of the Chinese millionaire in Ampang Road. It seems the Japanese High Command had used it before us and had left behind many of their belongings. I brought home a brass identity disk and two kendo sticks as souvenirs of our stay.

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