大象传媒

This is Michael Charnaud鈥檚 story: it has been added by Pauline Colcutt (on behalf of the Fernhurst Centre), with permission from the author who understands the terms and conditions of adding his story to the website.

An unusual and true story of a young boy who with his mother became a prisoner of both the Germans and the Japanese May 1942 - August 1945

CHAPTER 9 - SYDNEY - CEYLON 1945 AND FLIGHT TO ENGLAND (PART THREE)

Apart from the paid passage aboard the Nankin, we had travelled about 20,000 miles across the Southern Indian Ocean and then through the China Sea, across the Pacific to Japan, courtesy of the German Navy, then back across the Pacific via Sydney to Bombay by the Royal Navy and then on to Lyneham in England by the RAF. I had seen at first hand German Nazism and hatred of the Jews by order of the state, I had seen Japanese Militarism imposed cruelty on essentially a peaceful and resourceful people, I seen the pathological Communist ideology take hold amongst ordinary Greek seamen I was now finally in England described by Arthur Koestler so eloquently as a 鈥� country where arrows are only used on dart boards, where people are suspicious of all causes, contemptuous of systems, bored by ideologies, sceptical about Utopias, rejecting all blueprints, enamoured of its leisurely muddle, incurious about the future, and devoted to its past. A country of potterers-in-the garden and stickers in the mud, where strikers play soccer with the police and Socialist peers wear crowns鈥�.

Soon it was back to work and having to adapt to the rigours of Public School. and for the next two years I worked ceaselessly with an iron grit and determination to catch up on my 5 years lost schooling from the War and T B earlier This was the hardest work that I undertook in my life, but was rewarded two years later with a good Matriculation and a University entrance. The confinement of the Camp had given me an instinctive fear of being enclosed for a lifetime in an office, and so when it became a choice of career I settled on an outdoor job and decided that as I was interested in plants that I would take a degree in Agriculture. First I worked for a year on Farms in the West Country and finally in 1950 I entered Reading University where a few months later I met my future wife an attractive and determined girl Jill Colledge. We had a most wonderful romance at University and what was even more especially happy for me was the wonderful rapport that she had with Mother. Both respected each other and would talk openly on every subject from Cakes to life in the Tropics, art, music books etc. Mother had in 1948 purchased a lovely home Orchard House in Buxted, Sussex. It was a large light airy house with a large garden of which I always have fond memories. It seemed that there was always sunshine streaming through the large south facing windows, through beautiful chintz curtains into rooms full of paintings, Turkish rugs, and Dutch furniture. Here amongst these lovely surroundings Jill would come and everything had an aura that always seemed full of happiness. Meanwhile Father came towards the end of my term at Reading and offered me a job in Ceylon to run his small tea Estate in George Steuart鈥檚 agency and make a career out there. I leapt at the opportunity as it sounded so exciting, and in September 1953 boarded the Bibby Line 鈥淲orcestershire鈥� for the three week journey out East. A year later Jill joined me and we were married on January 5th 1955 in the tiny up country Church of Ragalla nestling amongst the fir trees amid the cool green tea Estates. Our time in Ceylon of about 10 years was like one long continuous honeymoon in paradise, and we had three children to bless our marriage but like all good things it had to come to an end. Political eruptions were rearing their head and our position was becoming so untenable that we returned to England hoping to farm. But it did not work out. I eventually got a job in London and three years later started in business on our own. During this time life was a constant slog which without Jill鈥檚 unstinting and enduring help , I could never have achieved anything. She was the rock that kept both the home and the business functioning through all the boom and busts of the 鈥渢hree day week鈥�, the Thatcher Squeeze, the ERM crisis and so on. Now we are retired, still in the same house that we purchased in 1965 and I still tend the large garden albeit now with a bit of help which is to us both a sea of tranquillity in our latter years.

People often ask how my childhood in a Japanese Camp during the most formative years of ones life has affected me. It has in all sorts of ways mainly in being very adaptable especially with my hands and always being able to 鈥渕ake do鈥� and find a way around a problem. Also I have an abhorrence of waste in any form, such a food left on plates, and I still carefully conserve the soap ends by sticking old pieces together! I have a subconscious suspicion and distrust of people of great wealth who have made their money too quickly by slick means, but instead respect greatly innovators and creators, and ordinary hard working folk like the many Geordies who from poor backgrounds befriended me. Loyalty to close friends and family are paramount to my being, as well as being straightforwardly blunt if these are infringed. More than anything though through all the ups and downs I have been supported by laughter and the funny quirky side of life. Somehow a few drinks with ones buddies and the world is right and one has nothing to fear. Above all though, living under such harsh conditions taught me honesty, a principle reinforced by Father a man of absolute integrity, whose favourite expression was:
鈥淥h what a tangled web we will weave,

When we first set out to decieve鈥�

His view was that a 鈥榮ecretive鈥� person was a devious person, and one never to be trusted whereas an 鈥榦pen鈥� person, regardless of their faults who can discuss their problems frankly and openly are to be cherished for all time.
My life has been full of experiences all over the world, with hardly a dull moment, some have been good, whilst others some terrifyingly bad, but because of Japan I never ever dwell on the past, but instead live for the present day and the future whatever it may hold. It usually turns out well in the end, although there can be a lot of bumps along the way. My Mother was of course a tremendous influence on my life. She was especially at her life鈥檚 end a tiny shrunken person physically, but always a towering character with an iron strength of will, coupled with a great tenderness. Above all she would talk and talk a lot from her vast experience of life. I was lucky to have her around for the first 54 years of my life especially during the war, and her life overlapped with that of my dear wife Jill, who has always from the moment that I first met her radiated kindness and friendship with every breath to all around her. Both got on well together and gave our family a great stability in their own ways. May God Bless them both. I have been fortunate since I returned to England to have lived in our present house since 1965 . During that time I have with Mother鈥檚 and Jill鈥檚 encouragement created a lovely botanic garden, full of the most amazingly exotic trees and shrubs. It is almost 20 years since Mother would walk around with me resting on my arm as she viewed with a critical eye some new development or other that I had made. She is still very much with me in thought and her presence is everywhere, in all that I do, and in the actions I take I can feel her encouragement:

鈥淭he dead need love as much as do the living because they do not die at the moment that they sink into the grave, but gradually as they sink into oblivion. There should be no difference between the living and the dead if we know how to remember.
I am now well into my seventies with every day a bonus鈥︹� just hope that this exciting story of how the Second World War touched one youngster, and taught him how to be amazed with each passing day and how to laugh and have fun through it all, may be of some interest to generations that follow.

The End

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.