‘It was impenetrable, with all the streams coming in along the foreshore through the mangroves. I have never felt such a feeling of desperation in all my life,’ he recalled. ‘I then realised that forward defence in this situation was an impossible task. There were no defences or fortifications and no field of view of an enemy approach. It was a situation that would not offer the troops any glimmer of hope.’9
Singapore, which was about 30 miles (50 km) long from east to west and 16 miles (27 km) from north to south, had nearly 120 miles (200 km) of coastline. River banks and mangrove swamps dotted along the foreshore also made it difficult to access and patrol.
Percival, who was still undecided about Japan’s plans to invade the island, had divided Singapore into three sections. The British and Indian divisions would guard the north and east; the Malays the south; and the 8th Division under Gordon Bennett the northwest.
The 22nd Brigade was allocated about ten miles (16 km) of water frontage, with the 2/20th responsible for half of it, from the Kranji to the Serumbun rivers. Alongside it was the 2/18th Battalion. The 27th Brigade was positioned to the west of the causeway but had only two-and-a-half miles (4 km) of frontage to cover.
As Don Wall put it: ‘In effect the 2/20th Bn of 750 men had the impossible task of defending 8,000 yards, double the frontage of 27 Brigade.’
The unfairness was further compounded when the 2/20th discovered a main road ran right through their sector linking the straits to Tengah airfield, a few miles to the south. What’s more there was a seawall down on the foreshore, providing an ideal landing spot for Japanese heavy equipment and tanks. How would a force of several hundred men defend such a long stretch of mudflats and marshy terrain? Not very well, if the Japs chose to invade at this point, which seemed the most obvious place to land.
Brigadier Simson, who was in charge of engineering and defence measures, was so convinced the Japanese would launch their main attack in this area that he had prepared numerous obstacles to be placed in the enemy’s way. Percival, however, had now decided that the Japs would most likely invade from the northeast and promptly ordered Simson to move his obstructions to the other side of the island, together with large reserves of barbed wire and anti-tank weaponry. This left the Australians hideously unprotected. Even Bennett was alarmed when he saw how vulnerable his men would be in the event of an attack on the northwestern sector.
On 2 February Bennett dropped by on the 2/20th Battalion and had a detailed look across the straits to the Kulai River, which he could see was a likely place from which an invasion might be launched. He also had time to assess the division’s strength along this part of the coast. His conclusions were not encouraging.
‘The men are cheerful but the posts are lonely. The gaps between the posts are wide. The position is extremely weak.’10
Bennett also visited the 2/16th Battalion, which was positioned near the River Kranji.
‘I gazed across the straits towards Johore Bahru with a sad heart and a full memory of my happy sojourn there,’ he wrote in his diary. ‘The place was very deserted. I saw a Japanese staff car driving along the waterfront. The occupant alighted and, from concealment in some shrubs, had a long gaze at the island.’11
Outwardly Bennett projected a brave and confident front, telling the troops ‘We’ll blow them all away’, but privately his concerns were growing. On 4 February he toured northwestern positions on the island, where the 2/18th and 2/19th were stationed. The area was thickly covered with timber and had mangroves growing right down to the water’s edge. When he saw the posts, which were many hundreds of yards apart and had a field of fire of roughly 200 yards, his heart fell.
‘I am beginning to worry about the extreme weakness,’ he wrote.12
Bennett cabled his concerns to Australia’s Army Minister Frank Forde, pointing out that the western half of the island was only lightly held: ‘Troops in excellent spirits but disturbed with negative policy apparent as result of demolition at naval base. Consider best policy is strong counter-offensive as soon as reinforcements of aircraft and quality troops can be arranged. Pure defensive policy cannot succeed but consider offensive cannot fail.’ 13
Was Bennett deluding himself about the imminent arrival of reinforcements? Perhaps, but it was worth a go. He had exerted all the pressure he could muster to encourage more military support and this was probably his last throw of the dice.
Back on the beach the men could also see their predicament with all the clarity of a condemned prisoner viewing the noose. If the Japanese attacked at this point, the 2/20th would be in the front line, facing the prospect of a quick and bloody end. It would be up to soldiers like Joe Byrne to keep the enemy at bay. Joe was happy to do his bit but as he looked across the waterway to Johore Bahru he knew the Japanese meant business.
‘Right along the water’s edge they went, about 70 or 80 bloody lorries and other heavy vehicles. It was obvious they were heading our way,’ he recalled.14
Come February the northeastern front found itself under intense shelling from the Japanese. Reconnaissance planes circling ominously overhead only added to the sense of dread.
It was time to find out what was happening on the other side of the water so a platoon from C Company was ordered to send a night patrol across the straits on an intelligence-gathering exercise. Lieutenant Roy Homer was to head the mission and Snowy Collins, Henry Dietz and two others volunteered to join him. All five knew the dangers they were facing as they climbed into a canoe and paddled across the Johore Strait. If caught they would almost certainly be executed as spies.
With hearts thumping, they eventually came ashore on the west of the straits and hid themselves just beneath Japanese lines.
‘They were so close you could hear them moving around giving orders,’ said Snowy. ‘We were up to our ears in mud in the mangrove swamps. Just as well the lieutenant knew where we were because we didn’t have a clue.’15
Their brief during the 24-hour reconnaissance trip was to gauge the number of landing boats and gun emplacements in the area. It did not always go smoothly.
‘We nearly ran into the Japs two or three times and we were certainly lucky to get back,’ Henry told me.16
It was a hairy mission but worthwhile. Homer and his boys acquired valuable information about the Japanese war machine before making the perilous voyage back across the water. In fact it was the return journey that created the highest risk. A powerful searchlight shone across the water every 20 seconds. If they were illuminated by the beam the enemy would almost certainly open fire. Picking the exact time of departure was critical.
‘All of a sudden Lt. Homer said, “We’ve got to take the risk.” So I gave the canoe a push, we jumped in and away we paddled,’ said Henry. ‘It was touch and go. There were Japanese and British gunboats in the area and us trying to avoid being seen in our collapsible canoe – it was a nightmare.’17
Back in the island’s northwest sector, there was growing concern over the fate of the platoon. So much so that they were drawing lots to send out a search party, when the five paddled back to their safe haven.
Homer’s boys weren’t the only ones to triumph against the odds. Merv Alchin’s story was even more unbelievable. After escaping from his Japanese captors on the mainland and making his way across the Mersing River, he had teamed up with two British sailors who had managed to swim ashore after their ship was sunk. Both had badly injured feet, which Merv was able to treat with his limited knowledge of first aid, and soon they were able to walk.
One of the Brits decided to try to make his way to Singapore by land, but Merv and the other sailor reckoned they stood a better chance by sea. Ever the survivor, Merv managed to persuade the owner of a Chinese fishing boat to take them south and so, suitably disguised with Chinese coolie hats, they fooled Japanese pilots who swooped down low to check them out, and made it to Singapore.
Don Alchin couldn’t believe his eyes when his brother turned up. Overjoyed at being reunited, their elati
on was overshadowed by the thought of the men Merv had left behind, including his old mate Donny. Should he have done more to encourage them to join him on his dash for freedom? Or would that have sealed his own fate? It was an almost impossible choice to make but one he would never forget. Their faces would be etched in his dreams and nightmares until his dying day.
While the men of the 2/20th remained on high alert along the northwest sector, some were employed on other duties in town. Conscious of the need to deprive the enemy of anything of value when they arrived, the governor, Shenton Thomas, had deemed it necessary to destroy every bottle of alcohol on the island. This made sense given the drunken scenes that had earlier played out when the Japanese occupied Hong Kong, but the Aussies, who were always partial to a drop of the hard stuff, must have considered it sacrilege to send so much grog down the drain.
Even more tempting was the money stashed away in a vault at the State Treasury Building. Five million Straits dollars and several other currencies were kept in the strong room. It would be worth the equivalent of tens of millions of Australian dollars today but that didn’t stop the authorities from ordering the money to be incinerated.
George Daldry was among those sent along to build the bonfire and not unnaturally couldn’t resist putting some of it in his back pocket.
‘There was millions and the bonfire was as high as me,’ George recalled in his later years. ‘As the flames started licking the first few notes we all started grabbing bundles. The wads were tied up with rubber bands so it was easy to snatch a few thousand.’18
The story was corroborated by Don Alchin, who admitted the situation got out of control.
‘You could take whatever you wanted and we did. When we all got back to camp we started playing two-up for bets of $1000 a time. We were just rolling in dough and because we had so much it became like Monopoly money.’19
But how would they spend it if they became POWs? One man who is believed to have pinched a few million dollars’ worth of notes had the foresight to bury the cash, in the hope of collecting his jackpot at a later date. After the war fellow veterans were reliably informed that he retrieved his ill-gotten gains and was able to boost his pension.
Burying money and smashing bottles of booze may have taken their minds off the impending battle, but the boys of 8th Division were not oblivious to Japanese intentions. How could they, given the pounding the 22nd Brigade received over the next few days? Enemy aircraft and shells fired from Johore Bahru were making conditions distinctly uncomfortable in the northwest sector.
Gordon Bennett was not immune to it either. On the morning of 8 February, his headquarters at Bukit Timah was severely blitzed, killing one man. Half an hour of constant shelling followed, forcing the 8th Division’s commander and his staff to seek refuge in slit trenches and shelters. A truck containing a stack of military documents was destroyed, though it did not seem to worry Bennett who reckoned ‘a little less paper in this war will improve matters.’ Such was his contempt for bureaucracy.20
Next day ten British Hurricane fighters from the RAF squadron based at Kallang in central Singapore took to the air to see off a force of Japanese divebombers. It made for an impressive aerial spectacle above Sarimbun Beach and inflicted considerable damage on the enemy but it would be the last time the British Air Force was seen in action on the western side of the island.
While the northwestern coast of Singapore was regarded by some, including Wavell, as the most likely invasion point because of its close proximity to the mainland, Percival continued to favour the eastern sector. The Japanese Imperial Guards did everything to reinforce this misguided view by doing little to camouflage their position on the eastern side of the causeway. On the night of 7 February they even landed 400 soldiers on Pulau Ubin, a tiny island off Singapore’s northeastern coast, just opposite what is now Changi Airport. This was a deliberate feint by the enemy to attract attention away from the western sector, which was where they really intended to come ashore. Percival swallowed the deception hook, line and sinker, but he resisted the temptation to respond, even though enemy artillery was raining down on the 22nd Brigade’s front. It was as though Percival and his cronies could not bring themselves to accept what they could see with their own eyes.
On top of this Percival seemed reluctant to go on the offensive. An observation balloon flying over Johore gave the Japanese an uninterrupted view over the Allies’ positions on Singapore yet Percival refused to authorise attempts to shoot it down. Even the Sultan’s palace, which was being used by the Japanese command, was off-limits to the artillery. When Captain Rod Richardson, sitting on top of his observation post on the roof of a bungalow near the foreshore, asked for permission to fire on the palace, the request was denied. What was going on?
Bennett had apparently agreed with Percival that his men could let loose on the enemy as much as they wished, but incredibly that message had not been conveyed to the right quarters, and the brigade held itself back from harassing the enemy with gunfire.
Back at Sarimbun Beach the 2/20th were getting restless. They could see enemy troops massing on the other side of the straits and were suffering continual enemy bombardment from artillery and mortar fire, aimed at softening them up.
Thankfully, so far, casualties had been few but there was a serious problem with communications. Lines had been badly damaged in the bombardment, preventing the scale of Japanese action being relayed to Malaya Command. It looked like Brigadier Harold Taylor’s 22nd Infantry Brigade and the 2/4th Machine Gun Battalion were on their own.
Not so, it emerged. Another secret back-up force consisting of Chinese guerillas had been held in reserve and was ready to support D Company. It was named Dalforce, after the Commander of the Federated Malay States Volunteer Force, Lieutenant-Colonel John Dalley. His idea had been to train a force of Chinese communists with the prime intention of harassing the Japanese and their raiding parties. They were fervent supporters of the Allied cause and had already been formed into a number of companies under British officers.
There was just one last unforeseen problem and it threatened to result in utter confusion. Dalley’s men did not have recognisable uniforms but were dressed in native garb with a white bandanna around their heads. Equipped with a variety of weapons, including machetes and shotguns, they could have easily been mistaken for Japanese. Most of the Brits and Aussies who had come face to face with the enemy on the mainland were hardly likely to differentiate the Chinese from their fellow north Asians.
The presence of Dalforce was notified to all platoons but unfortunately not everyone got the message. The last thing the Allies wanted was unnecessary confusion on the battlefield, especially as there was no doubt about the loyalty of the Chinese, who had every reason to hate the Japanese given recent experiences in China.
By mid-evening on 8 February an inky blackness had settled on the very north of the 2/20th’s D Company sector. The tropical night was unexpectedly quiet but it would not last for long. From a plantation bungalow on the foreshore a spotter group could hear the distant throb of Japanese landing craft setting off from Johore Bahru. This was it. The moment the men of the 8th Division had been waiting for. Let battle commence.
A prearranged gunshot to signal the imminent arrival of Japanese troops echoed along the beach. ‘Turn on the searchlights,’ someone shouted, but there was no response. Unlike the previous night, when Lieutenant Homer and his crew dodged around the beam on the way back from their intelligence-gathering mission, the searchlights weren’t working.
Unable to locate the first thrust of the enemy’s armada, the 2/4th Machine Gun platoon opened fire indiscriminately in the hope they’d hit their target. More by luck than judgement they made immediate contact, sinking barges and killing enemy troops as they tried to wade ashore.
Private Walter Holding, who was born in Bassendean in the northern suburbs of Perth, was among several platoons which were split up and sent where they were most needed.
‘When the Japan
ese started to cross the Johore Straits they had powered motor boats pulling half a dozen barges loaded with troops. The boys behind the Vickers gun had been trained for just such a show. After the firing started some of the barges caught fire and lit up the area.’21
The next day Private Holding found himself part of a composite battalion named the Australian Special Reserve Battalion, under Commander Major Saggers, a lay preacher and a champion pistol shot in the militia. In Holding’s memoir he wrote that his new boss was a ‘strange little bloke’. He added: ‘Just not the sort of bloke one would expect to see in the position he was in, but he was a wonderful leader.’22
Walter’s first contact with the Japs came when he was out on patrol. At first he didn’t recognise them as the enemy because they were out of uniform and appeared to be coolies. That was until they saw the rifles.
‘It was pretty lively for a couple of minutes … when two Japanese ran out of the front of the house and hid behind some scrub.’
Private Holding needed to get himself into the open and behind his Bren gun ‘to get a bead on where they were’. He continued: ‘Then I gave them a pretty good sort of a burst. It has always stuck in my mind when I see someone getting shot on TV, they nice and pleasantly fall over, but it doesn’t happen like that. These blokes were behind the bushes and I think I chopped the bushes around pretty well – I could see arms and legs waving around.’23
Walter and his mates were certain of one thing. They had to get back to safety – and quickly. Unhappily, not every member of the platoon returned unscathed. Ern Munday, Ernie Thomsett and Syd Darby, who was known as ‘The Kid’, did not come back that day. They were the platoon’s first casualties.24
There were 4000 enemy soldiers in that first wave, all men from Japan’s 5th and 18th Divisions. The agonising screams of those Japanese caught in the volley of machine-gun fire was shocking in its intensity. The mud and water on the foreshore was blood red, yet still there was no easing of the advancing horde. Fierce fighting raged for much of the night. The Australians were hopelessly outnumbered.
Hero or Deserter? Page 13
