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(This chapter is part of Len Baynes' book '
The Will to Live
', an account of his wartime experiences with the Cambridgeshire Regiment, his capture in Singapore, and the four years he spent as a prisoner of the Japanese.)

Right throughout the fighting, the enemy were so well camouflaged, and made such good use of cover, that we scarcely saw them. Firing from fresh positions was always our first indication that we had a new front to face.

We were eventually able to discuss what had been happening during this stage of the fighting, and heard that B.H.Q. were continually receiving conflicting reports. No sooner had they given orders for one of our companies to dig in to face a given front than another report would come in to say that the Japs had been seen on one of the flanks which should have been covered by another regiment, and each newly exposed flank would mean our re-deployment, and to us, the digging of yet another lot of trenches.

We started this battle as a regiment, part of a brigade, defending a section of a continuous front: when the fighting ended, we were defending an island around our Regimental Headquarters.

Thus, at a quarter past five, when he was facing what we thought was our front, Sgt. Hanton received a bullet in his bottom; I bandaged him up and sent him off to the R.A.P. The enemy was again behind us, so we turned each alternate trench in our section of the front to face the other way.

All hell seemed to break loose again at ten o'clock that night, as about a dozen mortars were brought to bear on us. The Japs made very good use of mortars right through the action; if we dug in where small arms could not reach us, a concentration of mortars was patiently brought up, and quickly brought to bear.

At the height of this bombardment, a message was received that I was to leave my position and take my men to Mr. Beardman, who was situated a few hundred yards away on our left flank. It was thought that the bombardment might be a decoy to enable the enemy to make their main attempt at penetration there; so off we went.

We were given a stretch of the road to defend, and as there was no time to dig trenches we spread ourselves along the anti-malarial ditch which ran alongside the road. ('Anti-malarial' because they were in place to run the storm water off quickly, before puddles formed allowing mosquitoes carrying the malaria causing parasite to breed.)

It was quite dark now, and we could hear the Japs' voices not many yards away across the road. Every now and then we would think we saw a movement, or a glow among the trees, and released a few rounds. Three-quarters of an hour later, our scouts reported that the enemy had withdrawn, so we returned to our last position.

As dawn broke, we were ordered out of our well-dug trenches again. The regiment on our left had gone, either wiped out or withdrawn, so our whole battalion was to be re-deployed. Although it had not occurred to our C.O. to withdraw, it would have been no easier for us if we had, since, as we later discovered, there were as many Japs behind us as there were in front.

We now found ourselves on a stony hillside opposite our Battalion Headquarters, situated among dozens of bamboo huts thatched with palm leaves (known as 'attap'), which had earlier been used as a transit camp. It seemed the main body of the enemy had moved on, leaving a smaller party to keep our heads down.

We dug in therefore as quickly as we could, under only sporadic firing, which lasted all day. As we were unable to see where it was coming from we had virtually no targets ourselves.

That evening, at six o'clock, our platoon officer returned, and almost immediately there followed the worst attack of the campaign. From a quarter of a mile away a large force opened fire on us with small arms and mortars, and they kept it up until darkness fell.

Then the enemy began to advance on us, and at last, through the gloom, we were able to see them and to let them have it. Three tanks pulled out from among the trees. (Our tanks had all been left behind in India, as Command had thought them to be unsuited to this type of terrain.) These Jap tanks opened fire on us with their two-pounders, but our trenches were now deep and well-placed so little harm was done.

The Jap infantry moved in behind the tanks, as they started to advance on us, and we gave them all we had. From over on our left we heard our mortar platoon go into action, the deep thud of their three inch weapons mingling with the other sounds of battle, and we began also to see the flashes as their bombs exploded among the enemy.

We clearly heard for the first time the strange sound of Japanese voices as they shouted their orders; heard for the first time also the screams of their wounded. I recall the satisfaction we derived from killing those enemy fathers, husbands, sons.

Pte. Martin was in charge of our heavy Boys anti-tank rifle, and when the tanks appeared I crawled over to his trench. Being a weapon-training instructor, I felt that I could probably make the most effective use of this, our only anti-tank weapon, and said so.

Martin, however, suffered from no such illusions; having carried it up hill and down dale for many months on our route marches and mock battles back home, he had no intention of missing out on this, the very first opportunity of firing it in anger. 'Not b ..... likely Sarge…' I decided to overlook the insubordination.

As had been drilled into him, Martin aimed for the joint between the turret and the main body of the tank, and with a fearsome explosion the first tank disappeared in a flash followed by a cloud of smoke. We heard later that the mortars had claimed this success, but Martin and the rest of us had at that time no doubts about it.

When the smoke cleared away, we saw that the other two tanks and the infantry were withdrawing to the trees from which they had emerged. The firing petered out, and a strange stillness fell over the land.

Dawn saw us alert, and confident, awaiting the next attack; but that sun rose on our last day of freedom. I had remained awake all that night, and had by now had virtually no sleep for many days; so when no attack had materialized by 8 o'clock, I told my officer that I was going to lie down in one of the huts, and was soon sound asleep on a charpoy in the nearest one.

At twelve, noon, I awoke to the sound of bullets tearing through the thin hut walls, and lost no time in diving back into our trench.

Now the earlier bombardment resumed, but this time accompanied by heavy fire from our rear as well, as the snipers who had passed through our thinly held lines in the darkness the night before, opened fire unseen from close at hand. Firing into our trenches from the rear they were able to take heavier toll than the main barrage.

Cpl. Ginn was standing beside me as we searched the trees behind for a glimpse of the snipers, who had by this time killed two of our men and wounded several more. 'I reckon there's one of the b ..... s up that palm tree,' he said. Standing on the step he took aim with his rifle, muttering that he would put in a couple of rounds and see what fell out of the tree. As his finger squeezed the trigger, he gasped, and slowly sank to the ground. I quickly knelt down beside him, but he was beyond help, and another section was without a leader.

During the next hour, we lost several more in a similar way. Although the firing did not let up, the enemy remained invisible, and all we could see was the shell of the one tank we had destroyed; we were again in that most unsatisfactory position of being targets without ourselves having anything to fire at. When we took pot shots at likely hide-outs for snipers in the palm trees, none fell out. It later transpired that Jap snipers tie themselves in the trees, so that if hit they remain suspended, thus not giving us the satisfaction of knowledge of success.

A party of Australian troops now retreated through our lines. They were weaponless and very dishevelled, just about all-in. They told us that they had withdrawn from up country, where fighting had virtually ceased; this was our first intimation of the way things were going up country

To our surprise after this latest depressing news, we heard cheering, and then saw what seemed to be R.A.F. barrage balloons rising into the sky. Our planes must be coming back then, if they were putting balloons up round the airdrome, we hoped. Shortly after that, we saw a plane approaching from the direction of the balloons, and risking the bullets, took off our tin hats to wave. We soon put them back as we recognized the Stuka entering its dive, and a large crater appeared immediately in front of our Battn. H.Q. We were soon to learn that Japanese observation balloons look very similar to ours.

Shells from field guns the enemy had in position behind us now began to fall more accurately as the balloon directed their fire.

The next few hours were a nightmare. Men fell to right and left; the huts all caught fire, and some fell burning into our trenches. Many who were not burned to death died later of their terrible burns, including my old friend Sgt. Wilson, who in his agony, asked me to shoot him.

When on submarine watch together on board ship, I remembered how, as he held his fiancée's picture in his hand, he told me he had the conviction that he would never see her alive again in this world. Dear God, I breathed as I looked into that awful burned face, let it all be a dream. I shouted for the stretcher-bearers, and faithful as ever, they ran over and collected him. I hope they were able to ease the pain of the few days he had yet to live.

As the fire burnt itself out, Mr. Doans came running over, telling me that we must now shorten our lines, so I was to take the men to new positions in front of B.H.Q. We were well dug in, but I knew that the open ground we were now to traverse was covered by a Jap machine gun placed only a hundred yards away in what was left of a burnt-out hut.

I asked for a couple of volunteers to stay behind with our Bren gun and fire at the Jap while the rest of us broke cover. Utting and Winton instantly claimed the job, although we all knew that they were unlikely to survive.

As their gun began to chatter we left our trenches and ran for our lives. Three-quarters of the way across I halted to signal our rearguard to follow, but I saw that they were already on their way, Winton firing his gun from the hip as he ran.

We lay down and opened fire with our rifles, and kept the enemy's heads down long enough for the two to reach us, Who could have guessed that so many of our boys would reach our new position in safety.

Mr. Doans and my officer had crossed over with us, and both were lightly wounded in the dash; there were also half-a-dozen other ranks missing, we knew not at that stage whether they were killed. It is certain that those of us who did get through owed our lives to Utting and Winton. Like most war heroes they received no medal for their valour.

After taking stock, I found that I now appeared to be in sole charge of the remains of two platoons, as neither officer returned from the R.A.P., where they had gone to have their wounds dressed.

I had received no instructions at this point, so deployed the men in temporary fire positions, dashed into B.H.Q. to try to obtain firm orders, and found the Old Man and the Adjutant in the basement. Having told them that I had the men available, I asked where they wished me to place them. However, they seemed to be in a daze, and I received no answer.

'Shall we remain where we are then, and defend H.Q.' I asked, and this time received a nod from the Adjutant. Returning we all found ourselves craters to occupy, as there was no chance now to dig in, and wearily awaited the next attack.

At a quarter to three, I received what I hope will be the greatest shock of my life, as a messenger came with the order to lay our weapons down in front of us and surrender.

Chapter 9

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