´óÏó´«Ã½

Chapter 8 — out of action

Later that day several of us were taken to Changi and I managed to join part of my unit. We were in an area called India Lines. It consisted of several atap huts which had been used by Indian troops in peace-time. I found out later that the regulars had taken one of the better spots and called themselves Southern Command, together with the Australians. It was evident that our division was to have second best. The accommodation was in poor shape. The bed space was a few feet off the ground to protect one from a great assortment of creepy crawlies, but it was pretty hard trying top sleep with just a blanket for cover. I did manage to borrow a razor from a friend, and have the first shave for over a week. After this I did feel a bit cleaner.

A few days later I happened to stop to talk to a friend and noticed my small pack in the next bed space, with my name and number on it. I asked if I could have it back with the contents. I explained it had been left when I was taken to the hospital, but it was to no avail. However I did take it up with an officer and told him the circumstances, and after careful consideration it was decided it should be returned to me. I was truly thankful for the contents included a razor, a piece of soap, a small towel and best of all my little jade elephant, that I had taken from the bungalow. I did make an enemy of the previous ‘owner’, but compared to the items I had recovered it was worth it. That razor never left my possession until well after I was released.

It became evident that the food was nothing like we were used to. There was nothing but rice during those early days, which played havoc with our stomachs. I remember quite well worrying about going to the toilet by the time the fourteenth day arrived and nothing had happened. I became really alarmed but the MO did not seem unduly worried. Thank goodness things came to pass but with a great struggle. This incident called to mind an advert I had seen in Singapore. There were four sketches. The first was of a Chinaman sitting on the toilet, his face showing great pain, and struggling very hard. The second showed him looking at an advert for Kruchen salts, in the third he was actually taking the medicine, and in the fourth was sitting there with a huge grin on his face, very happy with the results. I began to wish I had some to take, but I did not know how things were to change over the years.

For the early part of our captivity we were left more or less to our own devices, arranging for meals, cleaning up the area, and trying to get things as normal as possible. We did not come into contact with the Japs very much. It was very chaotic — the water supply was very poor and there wasn’t a lot of it. I remember we had been getting some from a well, but it did not appear to be all that good, especially the colour, so it was decided to lower someone down to have a look, just in case. It was a good thing they did. When he appeared he said there was a body at the bottom. We did not draw anything further from that well — it is a wonder we did not all go down with some form of poison.

After some time had elapsed it was decided that there should be some kind of record of those taken prisoner.

Sadly Stan died recently, aged nearly 91 and never finished his story of life as a prisoner of war, but as far as it goes it makes interesting reading. I hope you will put it on your site as a memorial to a grand and courageous old gentleman

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.