大象传媒

The first few days were uneventful; their captors did not bother them probably because the Japs were busy elsewhere. Mills stayed in his original barracks and ate the regular Army supply of food. Then they were ordered to a huge camp on the other side of the city. There their misery started in the form of frequent beatings done with a bamboo stick or a rifle butt. A Jap guard would issue an order but the prisoners, not understanding the strange language, would stand fast shrugging their shoulders questioningly. The result was a slap across the face and a thorough beating for not moving quicker to execute the order. It evidently never occurred to the Japs that the prisoners did not know their language. Thus, the first job for every man was to learn enough Japanese to get along. Mills explained that by watching the guards, noticing their different reactions, listening to their chatter, it was not long before he could understand them fairly well and talk the language a bit himself.

In November of this same year, Mills was moved to Thailand along with thousands of others. Here started the most fantastic and horror ridden months of his captivity. The Japs had decided to put their prisoners to work building what the Allies termed as the 鈥渋mpossible railroad鈥� running between Bankok and Mulmein (Burma).

The railroad ran through dense jungle filled with insects, thick underbrush, and a terrible wet heat. The Japs saved some time by following the twisting banks of a slow muddy river. This river was the only bright spot in Mills鈥� life. Here he was allowed to bathe and relax for a few minutes from the ceaseless, backbreaking work. Soon after his arrival, the tropical monsoons started in earnest. There was mud and oose everywhere. He lived in crude shelters made of bamboo and woven leaves with mud floors. Nothing was every dry. Either one sweated profusely or it rained. Mills still had his original clothing of shorts, socks and boots. These did not stand up well in their new surroundings and it was not long before he was living like a savage. After his boots went, he spent many agonising weeks walking on bruised, bleeding feet until they became hard and tough. But the worst hardship was the food, this consisted of a small bowl of rice two or three times a day with a small portion of soup, which was, really coloured water. Once and a long while, the trucks would struggle up from the coast bringing fresh vegetables and meat. But this supply would be consumed in a matter of days. Even so, Mills maintained that had things stayed in this state, life would not have been unbearable.

It was three months later that the terror struck, four men in one of the camps died suddenly. They did not die from beating or malnutrition but from an old and terrible disease. These men vomited blood, doubled up in pain, their skins turning a dark purple or black, dying in agony a few hours later. Across the camps swept the feared word; cholera! Men looked at each other in dread wondering who would be struck down next. A few thought of escape to discourage them. In the wake of this disease came others; dysentery, beriberi, malaria and the fungi disease got from a tiny scratch causing a huge tumour that often necessitated in amputation. But the japs did nothing. What medical care there was, was done by British doctors. These men did all they could under impossible conditions many being sick themselves. For the thousands that died, more were brought in to take their place. In one camp of two thousand men that Mills was in, over sixteen hundred died, but his immunity could not hold out forever especially now in his weakened condition. Finally, he was stricken with beriberi, dysentery and many times with a touch of malaria. What saved him was his fine physique developed from a boyhood lust for sport.

Near the end of the work on the railroad, Mills thinks he must have gone out of his mind as he can remember little except that men were shrivelling up and dying like flies all around him. In November 1943 the ghastly work was finished, a project that had cost the Allies over twenty six thousand lives and many more in broken spirits. Still Mills was kept deep in the jungle at the half way point on the railroad between Bankok and Mulmein. Then, in June Mills learned he was leaving. Down to the coast he went riding on the same rails that killed so many of his friends. The men were dirty, unshaven and naked. Mills did not notice this drastic change in his appearance. His bear feet were hard and scaly and his skin, stretched tightly over his sharp bones, was black and leathery from long exposure to sun, wind and rain. He was a walking skeleton, weighing 118lbs of his original 150lbs. Even more fantastic, he was an inch and a half shorter. This was what twenty-seven months of captivity under the heel of the Jap had done.

On the coast, the Japs awarded the prisoners with a decent meal and a new set of clothes. The clothes were most grateful but the meal made the men sick. Their stomachs were unaccustomed to digesting such food.
From here Mills went aboard an old British Freighter, named by the Japs, The Osaka Maru, with five hundred other prisoners. The ship was heavily loaded with iron ore bound for Japan. At first, the Japs kept them in one small hold forward. Life was unbearable with no ventilation and their only sanitation was a bucket dropped down from above to be hoisted at various times throughout the day whenever the crew got around to it. Either the Jap skipper took pity on them or the stench of human sweat and dirt became too much for them as later on their first day the men were moved topside. There they had their own mess on deck and could lounge around at will in the clean, fresh air and cool ocean breezes

The first week was uneventful with not even a stray American patrol interrupting the quiet. Then nature decided to take a hand in matters. The barometer went down like a rocket and the gentle breezes of the South China Sea rose to a howling hurricane of better than a hundred miles an hour. The ship was too old and clumsy to navigate the gigantic waves. A mortal leak sprung open forward. For three days all hands pumped and bailed. But finally the green water took hold and the skipper did the only thing left, headed for the nearest land. With her decks awash, he grounded her high on the roofs off the southern tip of Formosa. During these last hours, Mills was down sweating it out in the fire room shovelling coal. During the storm twenty-six men had died from over exposure for the prisoners had been kept on deck the whole time. By some miracle no one was lost over the side. But now they were aground and in great danger being rapidly dashed to pieces by the giant waves. There were no boats aboard and it was certain suicide to try and swim for it. Suddenly out of the rolling mountains of sea, two grey Jap destroyers ploughed towards them and hove to just off the wreck. Then with expert seamanship, the Jap sailors ran the gauntlet time and again in their small rowing boats to rescue every man aboard the doomed ship. Mills was surprised and impressed by his first acquaintance with the Jap Navy. He said these men and their general behaviour was as different from that of the army as black and white. The sailors treated them well. Gave them cigarettes and candy and a good hot meal. There were no beating or harsh words. These men were clean, orderly and strangely polite with their survivors.

The destroyers took them to a nearby port and transferred them to a Jap troopship, the Hakusan Maru. Here they were quartered in holds back to back, shoulder to shoulder. They were made to crouch in small racks one on top of the other. Twenty Minutes a day was all that was allowed for a stretch on deck and a breath of fresh air. While on this ship, their convoy was severely attacked by American submarines and planes. Mills had a curious sensation of joy and fearing watching the bombs strike home or blowholes in the sea filling the air with fine salt spray. During one attack, he saw a large German raider, which was acting as an escort disappears in a cloud of smoke when caught by torpedoes. It was a great sight seeing the Japs get it but at the same time, a terrible thing knowing that thousands of fellow prisoners were going to their watery deaths each time a Jap ship was blown to the bottom. Finally, weeks later, the ship docked and Mills stepped down the narrow gangway into the cold air of Moji, Japan.

It was August, 1944, Mills still had enough curiosity to stare at the strange shaped houses and narrow streets and small, slant-eyed people that scurried about. The air was bracing and clean compared to the hot, humidity of Burma. The Japs gave the prisoners a rare treat in a hot bath and a thorough cleaning of all their gear. Then there was mail, though Mills did not get any, which was a great disappointment as his last mail was in Bankok and these four letters had been written before he had been captured. He mentioned that mail was very poor for everyone because the Japs did not believe in mail and consequently whole bags never reached the men.

Mills was put to work in a large shipyard near Osaka where destroyers and troop ships were being built. He was not allowed to work on the ships, only in the shops where they could be carefully watched by the guards. He was amazed at the poor quality of equipment that was installed in these ships. This revelation convinced him that the Japs would be defeated even though he had heard nothing concerning the true state of the world. Mills met his first Japanese civilians at this shipyard. These people were working for practically nothing and starving along with the prisoners. A strange feeling of comradeship sprung up between them. The civilians refused to overwork and expected prisoners to do likewise.

Then on 30 November, Mills watched the earth destroy half of Japan鈥檚 third largest city, Osaka, in one of their worst earthquakes, the concussion of a bomb or the roar of a gun he was quite used to, but this new sensation of everything moving, swaying, high scaffolding crashing to the ground, the whole earth moving, awed and terrified him in its immensity of unseen power. Three months later, the whisper of the cold breeze was filled with danger again for this city but this time in the form of man-made horror. Giant American bombers (B-29鈥檚) flew in over the target flying so high only their vapour trails were visible. Mills could see Jap fighters going up to meet this white trail. Soon the Jap would become a vapour reaching up, up and then stop, turn and curve down. These big boys were just too high. At night, two engine bombers came in, came in low dropping their sticks of incendiaries in ceaseless layers spreading fire everywhere. Again Mills experienced that strange feeling of hilarity watching these planes wing their way over the burning city, coming in so low that it seemed their sleek bodies would touch the flames that licked skyward. His camp fared far better than the city. The prisoners, veterans of the blitz of England, knew how to handle a firebomb. But the Japs went absolutely wild having had no experience in this type of warfare and having made no preparations.

It was in May 1945 that Mills was sent to Omi to work in a Carbide factory. This job was almost too much for him with its extreme changes in temperatures between stoking the furnaces and stepping outside into the cold air. But to compensate for his strenuous work came the startling novelty of his new camp. Amongst the prisoners was a British Officer who had smuggled in a powerful radio set. During the week he would pick up bits of news then tell the men each Saturday. In this way Mills caught up on what had happened since his capture. He knew of the invasion of Okinawa and the coming intensified attacks by B-29鈥檚 on more Jap cities and finally, the drastic results of the atomic bomb. At last they heard from San Francisco that the war was over. But the cold, blank voice of the radio sounded strangely unconvincing. Yet the Japs changed, there was a sudden quietness everywhere, their guards no longer bullied them or ordered them to work. Something surely had happened.

It was on September 16th 1945 that Mills learned that the war was really over. It was a bright, cool day with the sky startlingly blue between the white clouds. The men were all out in the square waiting for their noon meal when they heard the familiar drone of approaching planes. Between the clouds American fighter planes appeared going west. Twice they came with the second group a little lower. At last one must have seen something, maybe seen the five hundred men in the square waving their shirts and shouting, opening their lungs and hearts to the heavens shouting. The plane dropped low, circled, then flew away too to the west. The men stopped yelling, their shirts dropped limply to their sides, a strange silence settled over them as they looked down where a little breeze stirred the grey dust at their feet. Then the quiet was disturbed by a deep throbbing. The men looked up. Suddenly out of the fleecy clouds, out of the blue to the west they came, their wings gleaming, their propellers flashing in the sun. Nearer, nearer鈥︹�︹�ould it be, could it be! They were almost overhead the deep drones a magnificent thunder. Then one, two, three, four 鈥︹��.. they peeled away from their perfect formation and came hurtling down, straight down towards the men who stood like stones unable to understand, unable to believe it had happened. Down they came their propellers raising to a shattering scream. Just above the men they levelled off, gunning their engines in bursts and frantically wiggling their wings in the international salute of all pilots. Still more came and more thundering over the men who stood bare headed in the square, tears streaming down their faces, choking with sobs.

A few days later B-29鈥檚 and liberators came over and dropped food and clothing. After this the Japs took Mills and the others through Tokyo to Yokohama where the more serious cases were put aboard waiting hospital ships. Mills went out to a nearby airstrip and stepped aboard his first aeroplane, a C-54. He flew to Okinawa and then to Manila. Here in his new quarters, he saw a cot again and felt the soft mattress and cool, clean sheets. He had all but forgotten such luxury existed.

Ten days later, he stood on a long steel dock looking up at the big grey transport that was to start him on his way home. He shook his head and blinked hard. No, there was the same stack, the same straight bow and high superstructure. He almost let himself laugh thinking of the strange turn of events. Here he was going home on the same ship that had brought him out to all these years of misery. With a strange feeling of joy and sadness, he walked up the steep gangway on his way home at last.

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