大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Graham Lewis for Three Counties Action on behalf of Mr Eric Saunders and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr Saunders fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

Today we are all familiar with the photos of the 鈥淲alking Skeletons of the Living Dead鈥�, their grisly, emaciated bodies, covered with septic sores, their minimal clothing with those degrading nappy-style loin cloths. These men were the prisoners of the Japanese Army condemned to the living hell of the stockaded, barbed wire compounds of the forced labour P.O.W. camps of South East Asia, cruelly treated by their sadistic captors, often beaten for minor offences, poorly fed to the point of starvation and refused any type of medical treatment. Through these terrible conditions and privations they became seriously ill and were allowed to lie in their own vomit and faeces to die. They were buried in crude graves dug by their friends who could hardly stand up themselves, and in the end could not cope and had to leave them until help arrived.

For me, a twenty-year-old, seeing the conditions of these men at first hand was a terrible shock. We had seen the squalor of the Indian cities and the appalling sights of the Bengal famine but this was a shocking and sickening experience well beyond our comprehension. The picture of this will remain in our minds forever.

This was indeed 鈥淢an鈥檚 Inhumanity to Man鈥� at its most degrading.

At XXXIII Indian Army Corps H.Q. in Monywa. Burma, late one afternoon our unit received an urgent signal through the Airborne Signals Unit to supply a flight of casualty-evacuation aircraft at Pokuku airstrip. My flight 鈥淐鈥� was on duty so we quickly got our gear together and stowed it in the three Sentinel L5 aircraft and took off for our destination. The journey took us about half an hour and we were soon circling the small airstrip getting a 鈥済reen鈥� for landing.

The Pokuku district had only just been recaptured by our division so we were expecting to see a first-aid post and many casualties, but this was not the case. There was a Jeep with driver and a radio man plus a signals officer and two others standing around. An RAMC sergeant greeted us and told us that they had found a P.O.W. camp just down the road and that they were desperate to get help for the inmates as they were in a very bad way, having been left locked and wired in by the Japanese without food or water for several weeks: 鈥淐ould we help?鈥�

Although the Sentinel L5 was a small aircraft, it was designed to carry a stretcher and had a deceptive carrying capacity. We always kept them well stocked up for this type of emergency. Our flight 鈥淐鈥� consisted of three aircraft so we could dish up all sorts of emergency rations; but little did we know what awaited us.

We were just getting our rations and gear out when another Jeep came up with a lieutenant and corporal from the Pioneer Corps who had just been down to see the camp for themselves as I don鈥檛 think they believed what they had been told about it. They confirmed the terrible conditions and the desperate situation of the inmates who were mainly civilians from Mandalay and Rangoon, though there were some lads from the Asian Territorial Army who had come mainly from the Rangoon area. The stench was awful. They had managed to get one man to speak, who appeared to be the leader. He was very confused and ill. The others appeared to have lost confidence in themselves and did not come forward.

We put our rations and gear in one of the Jeeps and they drove us down to the camp about two or three miles away. By now it was getting dark but we had our torches and Tilley lamps. We could smell the camp. It was a small barbed wire compound originally built for a few hundred, but there were over a thousand packed in there at one stage. The Japanese guards never went inside the stockade except for marching them out to work, letting them look after themselves on meagre rations. When the British and Commonwealth forces got within shelling distance the Japanese came in and ordered them out. Those who were unable to go were padlocked and wired in without any additional rations.

There was no way into the stockade, but we did get some water in by calling the inmates forward to the gate area; but they seemed a bit beyond caring. The RAMC sergeant took charge and through the leader encouraged them to take some water. Then he suggested some porridge as that could be made from hard tack biscuits; this we did and eventually they came forward and took some food.

Meanwhile, back at the airfield the signaller was reporting to our H.Q. as to what they had found and was assured that assistance would come as soon as transport could be arranged.

At the stockade we were making progress. Many inmates were now coming forward and taking some food and water, and one of my pals, Arthur, was brewing up a big pot of 鈥渃har鈥�. We had a walk round the side of the stockade and shouted at one or two shadowy figures trying to encourage them to come forward and take some food and a mug of tea. It was very difficult to communicate with them but eventually they came forward. Arthur had made some Marmite up as a drink, as the RAMC sergeant thought this would be more nourishing and better for them. We carried on like this for quite some time and at last we had some conversation with them. They told us of the cruelty of the Japanese and that they had no idea where their wives and children were.

It was just getting light when the rescue units arrived together with ambulances and doctors. The engineers soon cut open the gates, but Arthur and I decided not to go in as we felt that we had done our bit, and our duty now was to get the Sentinel L5s ready to take the worst cases to Number 63 Mobile Field Hospital (MFH) at Monywa; and that is what we did. We needed more aircraft for the evacuation as the Dakotas were too heavy for the airstrip. H.Q. sent us the Beech 18 Expeditor which we were just becoming familiar with and we put them to good use getting the poor evacuees back to the MFHs to get the treatment they so desperately needed.

An interesting sequel to this experience was that the Senior Medical Officer who attended to these ex-P.O.W.s was a Major David Kerr RAMC to whom I reported when I was invalided home in November 1945. He was now a local G.P. and his first words to me were, 鈥淚 think we have met before under very different circumstances鈥�. He eventually became our G.P.

Strange to relate, my father, who served in the RAMC in the First World War, had a similar experience when that war ended with our G.P., Dr Wilson. He had been Major Wilson RAMC, my father鈥檚 C.O. in a French hospital just before the end of the war.

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