大象传媒

In the year 2000, after campaigning for fifty-five years, the late Bob White and his comrades in the Far East Prisoners of War Association (FEPOW) received 拢10,000 compensation for the treatment received at the hands of his captors. Ironically, it came not from the Japanese but the British government.

鈥淭he Japanese have not even apologised to us let alone offered compensation,鈥� said Bob at his home in Hendon, where I interviewed him in April 2001.

Bob was born in Sunderland shortly after the end of WWI. In 1939, with the second conflagration imminent, he and his pals joined the Territorial Army. 鈥淲e all attended a club in Low Row, which belonged to the Bishopwearmouth Church. The boys鈥� club, where I went, was on the ground floor and there was a men鈥檚 club upstairs. One day a crowd of us from both clubs went to the Drill Hall, next to where Weatherall鈥檚 Night Club used to be, and signed on.鈥�

After the outbreak of War, Bob鈥檚 original unit was incorporated into the Regular Army and later given the title of 125th Anti-Tank Regiment, Royal Artillery. 鈥淪underland鈥檚 Own鈥� was born.

For most of the period known as the 鈥楶honey War鈥� Bob was doing a mechanic鈥檚 course at Lincoln. After Dunkirk his unit was posted to Norwich for anti-tank training. The unit trained ceaselessly until March 1941. This included a trip to Scotland where, badly equipped and with snow lying deep on the ground, the men were trained in 鈥� Desert Warfare! 鈥淚t was real 鈥楧ad鈥檚 Army鈥� stuff,鈥� chuckled Bob.

In that month his unit boarded a troopship in Glasgow. Ten days out, however, it collided with another vessel and returned to the UK for extensive repairs. The unit was disembarked and stripped of its equipment. Bob was never told where the unit had been posted.

The Luftwaffe鈥檚 bombing campaign against Britain鈥檚 cities was at its height by this time and the 125th was put on fire-watch duties, firstly in Glasgow then Liverpool. It was in Liverpool that it sustained its first fatalities.

After the tedium of fire-watch duties, the men were given just what they needed 鈥� some target practice. This took place at a base in Trawsfyndd (鈥楾rousers鈥� to the men) near Mt. Snowden. The batteries vied with each other to be top gun; little knowing they would never have the opportunity of putting their newly acquired skills to practical use.

On 28th October 1941, with their confidence at peak, the men embarked once more, this time at Avonmouth. As the S.S. Oronsay steamed into the Bristol Channel, it would be four long years before Bob would see his home again, and for many of his comrades, their last sight of England.

After a brief stop in the Clyde, the Oronsay鈥檚 convoy, escorted by destroyers, sailed out into the North Atlantic. A week later, south of Iceland, the escort vessels were relieved by a large fleet of American warships, led by the aircraft carrier, USS Yorktown (later sunk during the decisive Battle of Midway.)

The convoy arrived safely at Halifax, Nova Scotia, at noon on 8th November. Hopes of a run ashore were dashed, however, when orders were received to transfer to an American troopship, the Joseph Dickman, due to sail at midnight. Against impossible odds the transfer was completed and the convoy left for its secret destination on time.

The men soon found life on board the Dickman very agreeable. 鈥淚t was very spacious and the food was superb,鈥� said Bob. He had been particularly fond of the bread. 鈥淚t was delicious, not like the mouldy stuff we got on British ships.鈥�

The convoy, with its new escorts (led by the carrier, USS Ranger) sailed south along the east coast of the United States. It put in at Trinidad to refuel. Again the men were not allowed ashore. Two days before reaching the next port of call, Cape Town, the convoy received news of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour. The British soldiers and the American sailors (who included a certain Ensign Franklin Delano Roosevelt Jnr) were now, officially, allies.

When the convoy docked the men waited anxiously to see whether they would get some badly needed shore leave. It was duly granted and four glorious days were spent in the shadow of Table Mountain.

For the next leg of the journey, the sole escort vessel was the cruiser, HMS Dorsetshire, (which had administered the coup de grace to the Bismarck earlier that same year). The Dickman dropped anchor in Bombay harbour on 27th December, after which the 125th was sent up country to an established army camp at Ahmednagar. This enabled the men to get used to working in tropical conditions. Their journey, however, was not over.

In late January 1942 the unit returned to Bombay. On arrival at the docks they found the Dickman gone and in its place the Empress of Asia. The officer in charge of all embarking troops, the unit鈥檚 own Lt Col James Dean, inspected the ship. He was so appalled by what he saw he refused to allow the men to board her. In the absence of alternative transport, however, he was swiftly over-ruled. Said Bob, 鈥淭he Empress of Asia had been a troopship in the first war, and looked as if she hadn鈥檛 been cleaned since.鈥�

The convoy steamed southwards. Suddenly it changed course northwards and navigated the straits between Sumatra and Java. Once through, half the convoy headed for Batavia (now Jakarta) while the rest, under the escort of the cruiser HMS Exeter (veteran of the Battle of the River Plate) continued north towards the final destination: Singapore.

On the morning of the 4th February a force of Japanese bombers attacked the convoy. The Empress of Asia suffered only slight damage, but as the Japanese now knew the convoy鈥檚 location and had no doubt guessed its destination, the men braced themselves for further attacks. The next day, with Singapore in sight, the bombers returned. This time the 鈥楢sia鈥� was not so lucky. Hit several times, she blazed from stem to stern. The captain ran her onto a sandbank and gave the order to abandon ship. 鈥淚 took my boots off and climbed down a rope into the water,鈥� said Bob. He was later picked up by an Australian frigate and put ashore.

After their spectacular conquest of the Malay Peninsular, it looked as if the Japanese were poised to invade Singapore. On the British side, it was time for a leader of the bulldog breed. Unhappily, the officer commanding the garrison, General Percival, was not. Highly decorated in WWI, his personal courage was not in doubt. He had, since then, become a man moved more by figures and lines drawn on maps than by raw emotion.

鈥淚t seems to me,鈥� said Bob, 鈥渢hat Percival could only give one order: 鈥楻etreat!鈥欌�� Bob was convinced the garrison could have held Singapore a lot longer. 鈥淲e met some Northumberland Fusiliers who had been ordered back from the north shore.鈥� The Fusiliers had been manning a line of machine gun emplacements on a hillside overlooking the causeway connecting Singapore to the Peninsular. Armed with the deadly Vickers machine gun, they had been determined to make the Japanese pay a heavy price for any attempt to cross it. 鈥淭hey were totally disconsolate.鈥�

Bob actually saw Gen. Percival marching along Bukit Timor Road to the Ford factory and his meeting with General Yamashita. 鈥淧ercival was under a flag of truce, but it never entered my head that he was going to surrender.鈥� It was 15th February 1942 and for the British servicemen of the so-called 鈥業mpregnable Fortress鈥� the unthinkable was about to become reality.

By the close of the meeting, Percival had surrendered over 100,000 British and Commonwealth troops to a force one-fifth it size. Bob was devastated. 鈥淲hen he heard the news our own general, Beckwith-Smith, was a broken man.鈥� General Beckwith-Smith died soon afterwards.

In later years Churchill would put Percival鈥檚 decision into perspective. 鈥淭he fall of Singapore was comparable to fall of France,鈥� he said. And indeed it had been the largest capitulation in British military history.

Bob鈥檚 long period of captivity had begun.

The 125th stayed in Singapore until October 1942, mostly repairing the damage done by the Japanese bombers. At that time it was dispersed; some remained in Singapore, some went to Saigon; the remainder, including Bob, were set to work on the infamous Death Railway. 鈥淲e were taken by truck to a spot in the Burmese jungle.鈥� The journey took four days. 鈥淭here were thirty of us to a truck so it was very uncomfortable.鈥�

The men worked out a rota system whereby some would stand up at one end of the truck while the rest curled up and got some sleep at the other. When the terrain proved too much for the trucks the men were marched the rest of the way to their first camp. 鈥淲hen we got there it was practically submerged by the monsoon rains. The slats of our beds were just a few inches above water.

Bob worked on the hardest section of the Railway. 鈥淚t was all thick jungle.鈥� To begin with the regime was not severe. 鈥淭he amount of work we had to do was reasonable and we were actually given a day off every ten days or so.鈥� But, as the Japanese High Command began pressing for its completion, the men found themselves subjected to privations and constant brutalities. Bob did not wish to dwell on them except to say, 鈥淚n my experience the worst treatment was meted out by the Korean guards, who had volunteered for service in the Japanese army.

In order to sustain them, the Japanese gave each man one pint of rice per day. They did not distribute the Red Cross food parcels. 鈥淲e knew when the parcels had arrived because the Japanese started smoking American cigarettes.鈥�

The Railway鈥檚 track roughly followed the course of the River Kwai, so Bob was able to supplement his rations by fishing. 鈥淪ome of our work involved using dynamite. We used to pinch some and go down to the river after work.鈥� The fish were blasted to the surface. The Japanese would help themselves to the best of the catch in return for which they asked no questions about the origin of the dynamite.

There was also a little jungle fruit. 鈥淛ungle bananas were a very odd shape," said Bob, making his right hand into something resembling a claw. "They were full of hard seeds, like pellets, and you had to spit them out."

Although the prisoners had access to radios, the first inkling Bob had that the war was over came unexpectedly. By this time he was in a sub-camp near Nakom Patom to the west of Bangkok. 鈥淲e went down to work as usual. Then an officer came from the main camp and told us there would be no work for us that day.鈥�

Back in camp rumours began circulating. The next day, in a state of high excitement, the men were mustered and given the news officially. 鈥淵ou cannot imagine how we felt! Everyone was crying.鈥�

The Japanese took off and grouped on a nearby hillside. The survivors, Americans, Dutch, Javanese as well as British moved into the main camp to fend for themselves as best they could.

Help was not far away. 鈥淲e saw clouds of dust in the distance. At first we thought it might be the Kempei Tai, the Japanese equivalent of the Gestapo, coming to finish us off.鈥� In fact it was a convoy of local people bringing food.

Additional supplies were dropped by air, together with leaflets advising the men not to eat too much. The leaflets were ignored. 鈥淚 was out here!鈥� laughed Bob, holding his hands six inches from his stomach.

At six stones Bob was considered one of the fit men and appointed a camp guard. 鈥淥ne of my first jobs was to destroy the stocks of rice wine called saki, which the Japanese had left behind. The lads had not drank alcohol for a long time and if they had got their hands on it in the condition they were in, there might have been serious problems.鈥�

Troops parachuted in a week later and ordered the Japanese to remove the survivors to Bangkok. 鈥淎t first they claimed they didn鈥檛 have any transport but after, shall we say, 鈥榝urther negotiations鈥� trucks materialised and off we went.鈥�

In due course they were flown to a jungle airstrip near Rangoon. 鈥淭he pilots could have gone home earlier, but volunteered to stay behind for the job. When we got there most of us were still in rags, some were barely clothed at all. So first of all we were led over to a hut and issued with some reasonable kit, especially shorts and trousers.鈥�

Once decent the men were taken to another, larger, hut. WAAF鈥檚 were waiting inside with mountains of sandwiches. 鈥淥ne of our lads just stood there gawping at the food. A WAAF asked him what he was waiting for and to tuck in.鈥� The unknown survivor told her it was the first bread 鈥� mouldy or otherwise 鈥� he had set eyes on for over three years. On hearing this, the WAAF broke down in tears.

Next stop was the Anglo-Indian Hospital in Rangoon. 鈥淗aving slept rough for so long I couldn鈥檛 get used to a bed so I ended up sleeping on the floor. No-one could sleep anyway since we were all so excited at the prospect of going home.鈥� Among the visitors was Lady Mountbatten, with whom Bob had clearly been impressed. 鈥淪he had a word with everybody in that hospital, absolutely everybody, and shook our hands too.鈥�

Bob was on the first repatriation ship. 鈥淭he mess halls were open round the clock, and you could eat what you liked. After a meal there was only one topic of conversation 鈥� what we had eaten!鈥� By the time the ship put in at Suez he had regained a lot of weight. New uniforms were issued in preparation for arrival home.

The ship passed Gibraltar on 4th October and docked at Southampton a few days later. Bob recalled the scene: 鈥淥f all things there was a fog the day we arrived in British waters.鈥� Suddenly it lifted, and there was England. 鈥淐heering, crying, there was a lump in my throat to say the least.鈥�

After a spell in hospital at Catterick, Bob went home to Sunderland.

Survivors鈥� clubs soon sprang up throughout the country. The club in Southampton made the first claim for compensation against the Japanese, others soon followed. None succeeded and it was decided that a unified
effort might have more success. As a result FEPOW was created.

As chairman of the Sunderland branch, Bob attended the inaugural meeting, which took place at the T. A. Centre in Sloane Street, near Marble Arch. It was there that he had the most unexpected meeting of his life. 鈥淚 was in the mess hall having a bite to eat with the lad from the Middlesbrough club. An officer-type approached and asked us if he and his companion could sit at the two vacant seats at our table. We agreed and off he went to fetch his friend.鈥�

The 鈥榦fficer-type鈥� returned after a few moments. When Bob saw who was with him he could not believe his eyes. 鈥淢y jaw must have dropped to the floor!鈥� he exclaimed.

Former lance bombardier Robert White found himself having lunch with none other than General Arthur Ernest Percival DSO* MC, the very man who had surrendered Singapore. FEPOW, it seemed, had made all men equal.

Bob had been freed on 15th August 1945. The compensation award equated to just 拢7.83 for every day of his ordeal. But, to quote his own words, said without bitterness, it was, 鈥淏etter than nothing.鈥�

By way of a footnote:

Bob told me that when he got back to the UK the Army issued him with a form of pass. It identified him as a returned far-east prisoner of war and went on to request anyone to whom it was presented to bear this in mind when applying military regulations. When I asked to see it, he said he no longer had it. 鈥淚 wish I鈥檇 kept it for my scrapbook,鈥� he said looking a little sad.

Without consulting Bob I set myself the task of trying to obtain a copy for him. In turn, I contacted the Royal Military Police, the Army Museum and the Chairman of FEPOW, without success. No one seemed to have any knowledge of such a document. Finally, I wrote to the Imperial War Museum. I received a letter back from the Keeper of the Documents, a Mr Suddarby. He, too, could shed no light on the subject. He added that he would very much like to have a copy if one were obtained.

I told Bob about my search. He was adamant that the pass HAD been issued. 鈥淚t was on a pink form.鈥�

If, therefore, anyone reading this can provide a copy鈥�.

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