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Figures vary, but are generally reckoned as, 2500 Australian and 700 R.A.F, Japanese prisoners of war, left the Sandakan prisoner of war camp, and commenced, what was to be known as, ‘The Sandakan to Ranau Death March.’ From these approximately 3200 men, there were five only survivors. All Australian.

When evidence, of this, became available, and it was still hazy in early 1946, a 20 man Australian War Graves Unit was formed on Labuan Island, which commenced forming, ‘The Labuan War Cemetery’.

The War Graves unit consisted of about 20 men, under the control of, an outstanding Aussie sergeant.

There’s was a very unpleasant and difficult task, as they repeatedly returned to the Borneo mainland, where they retraced the death march route, collected, and where possible, identified the fallen prisoners, and returned them to Labuan, where details were recorded, bodies interred. And either a white wooden cross, carrying the interred’s name and regiment, or, as so often, simply. ‘To An Unknown Soldier’.

In war, all servicemen wore around their necks, what was known as ‘Dog Tags’. Of a plastic material, each was stamped with the owner’s name, service number, and religion. Mine read,’1866596, A. Smith, C of E.’

The theory was that when a fallen serviceman was found, one tag would be attached to the body, whilst the other was taken for details to be recorded

As a 21 year old airman, I often walked along the row after row of wooden crosses, reading the inscriptions, and I was ultra aware that so many were of my age, and but for the grace of God, I might have been there. After 60 years, that thought still remains

The wooded crosses have now been replaced by stones carrying the details

Ours was also a tiny 20 RAF unit who lived in six tents, with a bamboo and palm leaf cookhouse, drank rain water collected from the tents, which was never sterilized, ate mainly tinned meat and vegetables with giant lumps of instant potato, all left-overs from the war, and the eggs we bought from the Malays

A thin, non barbed wire separated us from Kampong Kasi, the bamboo and interwoven palm leaf raised huts, of the Malay villagers, with whom we had very friendly relations. The Kampong really was less that a stone’s throw away

The Aussie War Graves men and we, had a very friendly relationship, and we visited each others camps freely.

There were, then, on the island, no shops, no canteen, no stores, to replace wore out clothes, no radios, telephones, etc. Seletar, Singapore, our headquarters was 1000 miles away. One Dakota landed on the dirt airstrip each week, and I tended the one

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