by Pacific War Uncensored: A War Correspondent's Unvarnished Account of the Fight Against Japan
Back in the hotel I found out that also staying there was a number of high-ranking military officers, who I think had gotten out of the Philippines when the Japanese attacked. Among them was an Admiral Glassford, who John Morris knew very well, and who was very interested in my stories of Malaya and Singapore. He had the same opinion as me about the defeat and withdrawal of troops from Singapore, in that the Japanese had a superior force in terms of numbers of troops and air command. This view opposed some of those from official sources that thought the Allied defeat was both shameful and humiliating. He confirmed that the Japanese had full control of both east and west coasts during the whole seventy-one day campaign, and had been assisted to a large degree by the local population in Malaya, using fifth column methods. Therefore, far from being a shameful defeat in Singapore, the Allied forces that had been left in Singapore had really done a valiant job in holding off the Japanese for so long. I was glad to hear all this from an authoritative figure, because at that time, the world’s press were unsympathetic to the surrender of Singapore, which I felt was very unfair.
A Dutch soldier mans an anti-aircraft gun in the Dutch East Indies. Sydney Daily Telegraph
After a few days John Morris decided to fly out of Java and moved onto Colombo in Ceylon, as we had sufficient staff at the Bandeong headquarters for coverage of the war. This left me in charge of United Press affairs in Java, along with Bill McDougall and John Boerman. The United Press had quite a sizeable bank account in Bandeong, and I told John Boerman to draw all the money from the bank, so that we could divide it between us in case we suddenly needed to leave. I found myself in pos session of twenty-five thousand Dutch Gilders, which made me realise that I had not had any money in my pocket since leaving Singapore or even paid any hotel bills since my arrival in Java.
Admiral Glassford invited me and Bill McDougall to his headquarters, which was at a place called Andea, outside Bandeong. His invitation was for us to look through some signals that told the story of the Bali Sea Battle, which had involved four American destroyers that had encountered a very large Japanese fleet, and were eventually sunk. There had been little publicity about the incident, and Admiral Glassford thought that we might be able to make a story from the signals. The papers were very interesting, and Bill McDougall and I became quite engrossed in the story, spending many hours sorting through all the information.
Eventually the time came for us to make our way back to Bandeong, and to our astonishment we found when we got back that the press corps division of the Dutch Army had been completely closed down. Everyone, we were told, had gone down to a place called Tjilatjap on the west coast of Java, where ships had already started to evacuate the correspondents. Bill McDougall and I were the only two correspondents left in Bandeong, so we started to make preparations to make our way down to Tjilatjap to make sure the evacuation didn’t leave us behind. I did not know what the Japanese position was at this moment, and in spite of some sporadic air raids, there had been no reports of any landings anywhere.
It was now 27th February 1942. Tjilatjap was four hundred kilometres from Bandeong, so Bill McDougall and I hired a Peugeot car with a Javanese driver, who we christened “George.” We set off from Bandeong at about 2 o’clock, as George said that it would be safer, allowing us to get to Tjilatjap in the cover of darkness at about midnight. Unofficial reports had just started to come through now that there had been Japanese landings on the north coast of Java in the Semarang region. So off we went and though George seemed to know the way, in Java at that time all road signs had been taken down in anticipation of a Japanese landing. We got on very well until dusk began to fall, and George had to stop a few times to ask people the way. It was early evening, after having stopped numerous times, that I started to realise that George was lost. There were no real headlights on the car except for two little blue lights that were compulsory under the blackout regulations, and George had to drive slowly.
When it became quite dark I was astonished to see some lights flickering ahead in the distance, which George thought was the Javanese people coming in from the coast. Despite this we drove on through the darkness, until we came upon a white-washed bungalow with a red tiled roof. There were lights on inside, and so we hid the car amongst some roadside bushes and I got out to go and investigate. As I got closer to the bungalow I could hear a piano playing, and there was a tremendous commotion going on inside. I started to get a bad feeling about the situation, and moved into the shadow to peer around and look carefully through one of the windows.
I have heard people say that when they are genuinely scared that all the hairs on the back of their neck stand up—well that is what happened to me. Inside the bungalow I could see a Japanese officer playing a piano, while another was just picking up plates and smashing them against the wall. For a moment my eyes were transfixed on the scene, and I was petrified. I knew, though, that we had to get as far away from this place as possible, and quickly. So as quietly as I could, I turned and made my way back to the car.
When I got back I reported to the others the dangers that I had seen. George turned the car around and eventually we managed to find our way out to a main road. At this point we had no idea what was going on, but the Japanese had obviously been able to make a landing somewhere, and so we drove as quickly as we could down the main road away from the bungalow using the little blue side lights to guide our way. Eventually we came upon some crowds walking by the roadside going in the opposite direction. Although it was virtually pitch dark, they were walking two abreast, and they reminded me of the people I had seen retreating from the Japanese in Malaya. From time to time they strayed onto the road, and I had to put my head out of the car and shout at them to clear the way, to which they responded by moving back to the side of the road. We saw many of these crowds on our journey, but just ploughed on hoping to eventually reach safety away from the Japanese soldiers we had seen.
By dawn the following day we had arrived at Jogjakarta, where an American squadron of B17 Flying Fortresses were based, having previously flown out of the Philippines. We were taken to see a Colonel U.J. Eubank, who was extremely interested to hear about our drive from Bandeong. He got out a huge map so that we could trace the route we had taken. He pointed out that the Japanese had landed at a place called Serang, which was quite close to the road where we had lost our way. He told us that the people we had seen at the side of the road during the night had probably been captured and were being accompanied by Japanese soldiers. So we concluded that I had been shouting at the enemy from the car telling them to get out of the way!
Bill McDougall and I asked Colonel Eubank if there was any way he could help us escape from Java. The Colonel told us that he originally had seven B17s, but two of these had already flown off to Broome on the northwestern tip of Australia. Apparently the American forces needed to ship out their planes, as they had a similar problem as the air forces in Malaya— they had inadequate fighter protection for their bombers, and at times while they were stationed in Java, some of the Flying Fortresses had needed to take off just to avoid being destroyed on the ground by Japanese air attacks. In spite of this the pilots had not wasted time, had always sought a mission, and in the last days even managed to account for at least two Japanese transport ships from a sizeable fleet.
Colonel Eubank promised to try and get us a ride on one of the five remaining craft, and told us to return to the airfield that night. During the day while we were waiting, Bill McDougall gave me something of a surprise when he told me that he had decided to stay in Java. He told me that he had been sent to Java to do a job, while I had arrived there by accident after escape from Singapore. I tried to persuade him to change his mind, and pointed out to him that a lot of the other correspondents had already left. Bill McDougall, though, was determined and had already made up his mind. The last I saw of him he was driving off in the Peugeot, back to Bandeong with George our driver.
In the evening I got a ride back out to the airfield with som
e of the air force boys. I waited a long time, but then got the bad news that one of the aircraft that had already flown to Australia had damaged a wheel. A spare wheel needed to be flown there immediately, which meant that there would be no place for me. The next day I spent with Colonel Eubank in a hotel in Jogjakarta, which we spent discussing the war while sharing a big bottle of brandy. As we were doing this we heard news of the Java Sea Battle, in which the Japanese fleet defeated British and American ships. In spite of only having scrappy bits of news it was very depressing, and made me even more eager to get out of Java, as I knew it would now be a matter of days before the Japanese invasion was complete. Another reminder of this fact came immediately afterwards as the Japanese inflicted a terrific air raid over Jogjakarta, and as a result the five remaining B17s were all very badly damaged, which seemed to end any remaining hopes that I had of getting to Australia.
Fortunately though, the American air force got straight into action and started to salvage the remains of what was left of the aircraft. Somehow they managed to cannibalise what was left from the parts of the five damaged planes, and put together two craft which were capable of flying. One was then tested, which seemed successful, and I was told that I would be able to get a flight that night. True to their word, a plane was made available that evening, which was well laden with people. I believe that a normal crew on a B17 is seven people, but on that particular flight there were twenty-nine! Passengers were accommodated by getting down into an area of the aircraft known as the “bomb-bays.” We lay head to foot like a tin of sardines, but none of us complained, as we were all desperate to leave Java and knew that the Japanese were not too far away. At six o’clock our airplane started to take off, just as Japanese tanks started to roll into Jogjakarta. There was a rumbling noise outside of the craft, and I believe that one of the leading tanks took a shot at us. This was my first ever ride in an airplane, and it was one I shall never forget.
We were still not safe though, as there were plenty of Japanese aircraft around in the skies. Thankfully we were flying mostly in darkness, which, though it helped to hide us, was of little help to our navigator. We managed to fly across the Timor Sea without any further incident, and early the next morning land was sighted, which we knew was Broome in northwest Australia. When we landed on the airfield it was in a state of chaos, as a lot of aircraft had flown out of the Dutch East Indies, including two from the official Dutch airline KLM, as well as the American Flying Fortresses.
After landing, we had to walk quite a distance to a wooden shack where we managed to get some tea, and a bite to eat. It was the first time in quite a while that I had had something to eat, and I was very grateful for it, but what I most wanted was a really good wash. Up in Broome the aeroplanes had stirred up a lot of the red dust that seemed to cover the earth, which the Australians call “bull dust.” It is a distinctive red colour, and I was covered in it. We planned not to stay there for too long, but our plane needed to refuel; the only way this could happen was by filling up buckets, as there were no proper filling stations. Eventually we managed to complete our refuelling, and then took off again for Perth.
I was dropped off at the airfield in Perth on 28th February. Looking around for a means of transport, I managed to find a man driving a vegetable truck who was going into town. When we arrived in town I did not know what I would do for accommodation, and asked some Australian soldiers if there was a Red Cross or YMCA in the area where I could get a wash and bed for the night. While I was speaking, a man approached me and asked if there was anything he could do to help. His name was Mr. Silverstone, and was the local manager for Gallagher’s Cigarettes and told me that he could help with finding me a room. He took me back to his flat where I was really made to feel at home; I was able to take a hot bath, and his wife then cooked me a steak meal.
In the evening Mr. Silverstone took me to the Perth Club, and introduced me to the secretary who made me feel most welcome and gave me a room for the night. After I had a good night’s rest Mr. Silverstone returned to the Perth Club and took me to his bank. I had told him that I had gotten twenty-five thousand Dutch Gilders and wanted to exchange them for Australian currency. I did not expect them to be worth very much, as the Dutch East Indies was in a state of emergency, but to my surprise the manager told me they were worth two hundred and fifty Australian pounds.
I spent eleven pounds of the money straight away on a new typewriter, and then went back to my room in the Perth Club and started to write the story of how I had managed to escape from Java. My clothes were looking rather shabby after all my exploits so I also bought a full Australian military uniform which made me look very much the part of a war correspondent. In all I spent two days in Perth and then managed to get myself booked on a plane going to Melbourne where I had been told that I could meet with the United Press Australian manager, who was called Brydon Taves.
On my arrival in Melbourne I made my way to the Hotel Australia, where Brydon Taves was staying. I found him to be a very serious young man, and he told me that the censors had wanted to see me straight away. I went with him to see a man called Burns, who was the censor based in Melbourne, and I found that he had torn the guts out of my story about escaping from Java. In fact, hardly any detail remained, with no mention of the Java Sea Battle or the B17s. To cap it all my considerably altered story had been sent to the United Press office in New York, from whom I got a reply stating: “Your premature departure from Java left our coverage thinnest.” I wondered how premature a departure could be when enemy tanks are firing at you! Though one thing that I found working in my favour was that the other correspondents that had been evacuated from Java from Tjilatjap by ship had only now arrived in Perth. Thanks to Colonel Eubank, and the gallant boys on the B17, I was now well ahead of them so things were not so bad after all.
It was now the beginning of March 1942. I stayed in Melbourne for two days, during which time a lot of people wanted to see me. I had to fight my way out of many invitations to different functions, as I was anxious to get to Sydney, in order to get back with Marie. One appointment I kept, though, was with Sir Keith Murdoch, the big newspaper proprietor who owned a number of different papers, including the Melbourne Herald. He was very interested to hear all about my exploits and wanted to get the latest news about what had happened in Singapore. Sir Keith was very interested in everything I had done, and this was not the last occasion that I would meet with him. I then phoned Marie, and told her that I would be travelling down from Melbourne to Sydney by train to meet her and Pat. I think the train that I caught was called the Southern Cross, and when I arrived in Sydney I found that Marie and Pat were not the only people waiting on the platform to greet me. There was also an enterprising young reporter who had a photographer with him, who took a picture of Marie, Pat and I, and then wrote an article about me describing my escape from Singapore and Java.
Harold arrives in Sydney at the Central Railway Station, and is met on the platform by Marie and Pat. His arrival prompted great interest from the Australian press, describing Harold as an “Ace War Reporter.” Sydney Sun
CHAPTER NINE
Australia
It was absolutely marvellous being reunited with Marie and Pat again, and I looked forward to spending as much time with them as I possibly could. My arrival in Australia seemed to create a lot of interest in the press, as well as with the book publisher Alfred Knopf. They sent me a telegram from their offices in New York asking if I would write a book of one hundred and twenty thousand words “immediately,” describing all my experiences in the Far East. At the time I thought this was nonsense as the war was still only three months old, and nobody really knew what direction it had yet to take. Therefore I chose to do nothing about it, and to continue doing my job as best as I could by pursuing any news from where the war was being fought. It did, however, indicate to me how well recognised my reports on the Pacific War had been; for some time it seemed that I was well and truly in the limelight.
An
editorial in the Sydney Telegraph was written completely about me, in which they called me an acute observer, and accredited me with lots of things, not all of which were exactly true. As I was attracting so much attention, I used this as an opportunity to put a few matters straight on the progress of the war, and also to reply to some criticism that had been made of General Gordon Bennett, who had recently escaped from Singapore. I agreed with the General’s opinion that Australia was under a considerable threat from being invaded by the Japanese. However, it was soon apparent to me after my arrival that there was a similar air of complacency about the situation as I had previously found in Singapore and then Java. There seemed to be a hectic whirl of report writing going on within the press regarding anything that the Allied command had to say about the war, but this lacked any real insight, and only seemed to highlight the level of uncertainty there was in these matters. There also seemed to be a lot of “back-biting” and squabbling going on, with the Dutch being critical of the other Allied forces, the Australians arguing with the British who in turn had differences with the Americans. When I was asked for my opinion on the situation I responded that there needed to be a “reality-check” in the country regarding preparations for war.
