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At three o’clock in the afternoon, under the hot humid Singapore sun, the Japs at last stepped out from among the trees surrounding us. One even descended from a palm tree growing beside our B.H.Q., where he must have been since the previous night. We now knew how we had incurred many of our hitherto inexplicable casualties.

Approaching with finger on trigger, our adversaries were taking no chances; they halted a few yards from us, and what we presumed to be an officer stepped forward. He was wearing one of the traditional Japanese two-handed ceremonial swords, and with every step he seemed in danger of tripping over it. (We later became very familiar with the sight of these swords; they told us that they were handed down from father to son, but later on I saw a Jap blacksmith making them from old lorry springs, and fitting them with Woolworthsy tinse-bound handles.)

The ordinary Japanese soldiers were our biggest surprise, as they appeared like pieces of jungle, walking. Their uniforms, if such their shabby and mud-colored clothes could be called, were hung about completely with leaves and twigs. We had done nothing like that.

Although we had of course heard that the Japanese are a short race, we had not dreamed that they were as small as this; as we saw that they hardly came up to our shoulders it was hard to take in the fact that it was to these mites that we were surrendering. Our amazement and shame were complete.

‘Numbar One!’ shouted the officer. Not knowing what he meant, none of us moved. A moment or two's silence, then louder and angrily, ‘Ingerissoo numbar one, speedo!’ A few weeks later none of us would have failed to get the message which could be interpreted as ‘Englishman in charge come here quickly!’ We were however spared the pain of finding out what was meant the hard way, by the appearance at that moment of a party approaching from H.Q.,led by our Commanding Officer.

‘You Wavellca?’ asked the Jap, as the party stopped a yard or two away, ‘No, me Lt. Col. Carter’, replied the Old Man. The officer chattered for a while with his henchmen, and then, turning round, said firmly, ‘You Wavell!’, in a voice which brooked no argument. It was left at that.

Capt. Stick sidled up to me as the officers were led away from us, and grabbed my hand in his firm grip.‘I don’t know whether we'll ever meet again, Sergeant, but in case we don't, I'd like you to know I think you did a good job’.

The boys who bad been shot out on the lawn still lay where they had fallen, as no-one had been able to approach to see whether there were any survivors. I walked up to what I thought was a Jap N.C.O., and pointing to where the men were lying, made him understand that I wanted to go over and see whether there were any still alive. He impatiently shook his head.

I decided to take a chance, however, and turning my back on him, walked out over the lawn. A hullabaloo broke out behind me and I had a job to resist the temptation to look back; but unlike Lot’s wife, resist it I did, and the next thing I knew was that a Jap soldier was trotting along behind me, his fixed bayonet held close to my back.

Nevertheless, he did not interfere with me, and was evidently there to prevent me from pulling a fast one. There were no survivors around that trench. Sentiment had played little part in my feelings while the fighting continued. As I now lowered the head of one of my young lads, lifeless on to the turf, I had difficulty in holding back my tears.

At this early stage, I had learned a lesson that was to stand me in good stead during the years of captivity that were to follow; namely, that it was often possible to ‘get away with murder’ by presenting a bold front to the Japs, whereas humble pleading was usually ignored, and the pleader likely to be beaten.

We were now lined up and searched; anything found that took the Japs' fancy, together with any potential weapons were taken away. Our C.O. held a conference with our captors, and we were then herded together on the top of the bank behind B.H.O. where I had so narrowly escaped being shot. The C.O. was allowed to stand on some higher ground, and prepared to speak to us. (A voice behind me whispered ‘They're letting him say good-bye before they polish us off’.)

Col. Carter, in a breaking voice tried to tell us that he was proud of us, and that a late dispatch from Command H.Q. had informed him that he had been decorated for the regiment's performance.‘If you leave here alive, I want you all to remember your regiment; never let its name down.’ As the Japs led him and the other officers away, we shouted our good-byes.

Chapter 11

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