Hero or Deserter?

by Roger Maynard

  However, a follow-up message from Wavell gave Percival the validation to make the final decision himself:

  When you are fully satisfied that this is no longer possible I give you discretion to cease resistance. Before doing so all arms, equipment, and transport of value to the enemy must of course be rendered useless. Also just before final cessation of fighting, opportunity should be given to any determined bodies of men or individuals to try and effect escape by any means possible. They must be armed. Inform me of intentions. Whatever happens I thank you and all troops for gallant efforts of last few days.34

  This was the signal Percival had been waiting for. Of course the likes of Bennett did not need Wavell to tell them how to act. The 8th Division’s commander and his trusted fellow officers had already orchestrated their escape.

  Chapter 12

  ‘I COULD NOT FALL INTO JAPANESE HANDS’

  As the first light of day broke over Singapore on 15 February 1942, Henry Gordon Bennett was filled with despair. The dying city was writhing in agony. The 8th Division was falling back as the enemy’s advance continued unchecked. Japanese troops were opposite the Australian front and the Allies realised there was nowhere else to go.

  Bennett had one more meeting to attend: the last conference of senior Allied officers before the final curtain fell. It was in the Battlebox at Fort Canning, where the penultimate scene in this disastrous and humiliating struggle would be played out.

  Eschewing his staff limo for fear of being spotted from the air, Bennett and his aide-de-camp climbed into a truck and headed for the heavily guarded underground nerve centre. After convincing the guards that he really was the head of 8th Division, Bennett was allowed to enter.

  The imposing, solid-iron doors, installed in the event of a gas attack, opened to reveal a set of ten steps down and another six up. Ahead was a long hallway with a series of doors at regular intervals. Each room was locked securely. The occupants usually remained inside for many hours, communicating with other staff inside the honeycomb of passages and adjoining chambers only by telephone. Wall signs prohibited staff from smoking, eating and talking loudly in order to prevent operations being disrupted.1

  In reality the bunker was almost cut off from the outside world. The Fort Canning staff were virtually incommunicado. Because the operations room did not have an accurate update of developments outside, the lack of information was deafening.

  As Romen Bose, whose meticulous research provides a graphic picture of life inside the building, would later write: ‘Pleas for help and reinforcements as well as blood-curdling screams were heard over the radio as the hapless residents of the bunker tried in vain to communicate with units being destroyed by enemy shelling and attacks.’2

  Away from the radio room and shut off from the electronic chatter in the background, was the anti-aircraft defence Room, where the conference of senior commanders was about to get underway. Today it was as quiet as a chapel of rest. Only the gentle murmur of the ventilation system broke the silence.

  Bennett and Percival sat down with formation commanders and senior staffs of Malaya Command. A.H. Dickinson, the chief of police, was there, as well as Brigadier Ivan Simson, the army’s chief engineer and military liaison officer, who had done so much to alleviate civilian suffering. Everyone knew the end was near and each offered tales of death and disaster to reinforce his point. Dickinson told how some of his men had been bombed by a group of inmates released from jail. Simson seemed ‘very disturbed’ by the rate at which civilisation seemed to be falling apart.

  ‘No wonder,’ noted Bennett. ‘The city is rapidly becoming a shambles, buildings have collapsed on the occupants, bomb holes in the road are unrepaired and the destructive aerial bombing is continuing unmolested.’3

  As they sat around the table that morning each officer urged a termination of hostilities. All, that is, except Bennett, who suddenly and quite unexpectedly suggested: ‘How about a combined attack to recapture Bukit Timah?’

  The interjection was met with a stunned silence. What was Bennett going on about? Had he momentarily lost his mind or was he anxious to show he was not as defeatist as the rest of them?

  Major Cyril Wild, who was on ‘Piggy’ Heath’s staff, favoured the latter interpretation. ‘I formed the impression at the time that it was made not as a serious contribution but as something to quote afterwards.’ 4

  The conversation resumed with a dire assessment of conditions on the ground. The civilian population was almost totally out of food and water, it was impossible to treat the huge number of casualties and there was no one left to rescue those who lay trapped and injured in the countless wrecked buildings. The situation in Singapore was verging on the apocalyptic. To continue the fight would be pointless, they argued, prompting Percival, who now had the final say, to produce General Yamashita’s latest missive.

  By now Bennett was back on message. ‘Silently and sadly we decided to surrender,’ he later wrote.5

  With the unanimous agreement of those in the room, Percival decided to seek a cessation of hostilities in the middle of the afternoon and to invite a Japanese deputation to visit the city to negotiate the terms of capitulation. With this in mind it was further agreed that representatives of the military and civilian authorities should visit the enemy lines as soon as possible to discuss the proposed ceasefire.6

  Brigadier T.K. Newbigging, the Colonial Secretary Hugh Fraser and Major Wild, who was fluent in Japanese, drew the short straw and were sent on their way. They would ask for hostilities to end at precisely 3.30 pm and that the surrender should be unconditional, allowing some Allied troops to remain under arms in the city to preserve order.7

  As the small delegation drove up Bukit Timah Road they met an Allied roadblock that marked the frontline. Uncertain of who they were or where they were going, a British officer pushed a revolver into Newbigging’s chest but quickly withdrew the gun when the situation was explained to him. The three men got out of the car, taking a white flag and a Union Jack with them, then proceeded to walk several hundred yards into enemy territory.8

  After a Japanese patrol removed their pistols they were escorted to a small villa, where they delivered Percival’s letter seeking a cessation of hostilities. Initially the senior Japanese officer, Colonel Ichiji Sugita, was taken aback by the arrival of the British representatives. Many years later he revealed in the British television series The World At War that the Japanese had almost run out of ammunition and were seriously considering pulling back their troops to the mainland.9

  The Japanese were also unimpressed by the Allies’ demand to see Yamashita himself and subsequently handed over their own typewritten document, which requested Percival’s attendance at Bukit Timah at a time to be agreed to meet Lieutenant-General Yamashita personally.

  There were also a number of demands in an accompanying appendix which required the Allied forces to lay down their arms and stay in their positions. Major Wild pointed this out to Newbigging, drawing his attention to the fact there was no reciprocal undertaking from the Japanese that they would also agree to a ceasefire.10 Colonel Sugita, who was charged with communicating the Japanese terms, was not happy, reminding Wild that he was not the negotiator.

  The meeting appeared to be deadlocked so Newbigging decided to leave the matter and return to Fort Canning. As the delegation moved to return to British lines, Colonel Sugita gave them a large Japanese flag, with the instructions to hang it from the top of the Cathay Building as a signal that Percival was prepared to accept the conditions.

  At precisely 3.02 pm the GOC Malaya sent a message to Wavell confirming that the fighting was about to end.

  ‘Owing to losses from enemy action, water, petrol, food and communication practically finished. Unable therefore to continue the fight any longer. All ranks have done their best and grateful for your help.’11

  With Percival acknowledging that it was all but over, Wild was sent to the Cathay Building to display the Japanese flag. The time was 3.30 pm, and
with Percival having agreed to stop fighting at 4 pm, they needed to move fast. In fact even as the deadline expired the two cars carrying the official British party had only just entered Bukit Timah Road.

  Once again the delegation was halted at the frontline and ordered to walk through enemy territory. Percival’s perambulation was to provide the key image of Britain’s defeat. The white flag carried by a fellow officer as the party made their way down Bukit Timah Road was a propaganda masterstroke. The black and white photograph which went around the world symbolised the final nail in the Allies’ coffin.

  The meeting with Yamashita, the Japanese commander, eventually got underway at 5.15 pm in the staff canteen of the Ford Motor Company’s assembly plant in Bukit Timah village. The building had been seized by the Japanese the day before for use as their advance headquarters.

  There was only one copy of the surrender terms, which Percival was allowed to read but not to keep. The ceasefire would begin at 8.30 pm local time and all weapons, military equipment, ships, aircraft and secret documents were to be handed over to the Japanese intact. The Japanese made only one concession to the Allies, allowing them to keep a force of 1000 armed men in the city to prevent looting and other trouble breaking out during the temporary withdrawal of armed forces.

  All that remained was for Percival to sign the surrender document and for the two generals to shake hands. Once again the cameras were on hand to milk the event for its propaganda potential, though the less-than-august surroundings of the works canteen may have detracted from the gravity of the occasion.

  Thus in little more than seventy days the entire might of the British, Australian, Indian and Malay forces had been brought to their knees.

  Clearly in need of a tipple to drown his sorrows, Percival headed for the Singapore Club to share a whisky and soda with Shenton Thomas, who was politely told he was no longer governor. A few hours later at 9 pm, hundreds of civilians and many wounded servicemen attended evening service at St Andrew’s Cathedral in the centre of town. The first hymn to be sung was ‘O God, our help in ages past’.

  Bennett was not among them. He had more on his mind than asking for heavenly support, preferring the company of his own men to spiritual sustenance. Curiously, although he was aware of the official surrender, he had not been informed of an earlier message from Wavell expressing the view that opportunities should be given for escape.13

  Of course the commander of the 8th Division did not need any encouragement in that direction, given his plans to join Moses and Walker on the first available boat out of Singapore.

  Bennett discussed the question of escape with his senior commanders but issued an order to all units to remain at their posts and concentrate at 8.30 am the following day. The thinking behind this strategy was that any large-scale escape attempt could result in confusion and slaughter, so it was agreed that the Australians should be kept together and sentries posted.14

  Perhaps Bennett’s conscience was pricked, but for whatever reason he decided to address the welfare of his men. After talking to his lieutenant-colonels, he made arrangements for all his soldiers to be given fresh clothing, new boots and two days’ rations. He also demanded that a complete nominal roll of every man be compiled and handed over to the enemy with instructions for it to be communicated to Australia as soon as possible to ease the concerns of worried families back home.

  Among the lower ranks Bennett met that night was Signalman John Chippendale, who had been talking to his company commander, Major Jacobs, when the commander called in.

  ‘He said that the war was over, we were all prisoners of war and that he was trying to escape and go back to Australia to tell them how the Japs fought,’ he recalled. ‘He shook my hand and said he would see me back in Australia after the war.’15

  Many years later they did meet up and Bennett remembered the bloke who was there the night he escaped.

  The caring gestures shown by Bennett during his last few hours on Singapore helped to reinforce the view that he had his troops’ best interests at heart. Whether this was done to enhance his image once his escape became known is impossible to say, but for whatever reason he was apparently keen to be seen to be doing the right thing.

  Interestingly Bennett’s written account of that final day in Singapore differs slightly, according to which version you read. There is his book, Why Singapore Fell, which was published in 1944. There is an arguably more embellished record given to his official biographer, Frank Legg, whose book was published in 1965. And there is the typewritten draft memoir produced by Bennett, which is held by the Mitchell Library in Sydney. Disappointingly this last document is not dated so it is impossible to say how soon after his escape it was written.

  In this version, with its handwritten corrections and amendments, he writes more candidly about what he saw and discussed that day. He talks about passing through the unit lines, where he found the men still full of fight. When he mentioned the word surrender they took it badly.

  ‘Some of these tall, manly men wept at the idea. It was a sad parting.’16

  Later, in his draft memoir, Bennett revealed that he passed the word around that escape was permitted only after and not before the cessation of hostilities.

  ‘Numbers of officers and men then organised themselves into groups and were seen putting together packs containing food and water, clothing and equipment suitable for escape.’17

  These comments conflict with the official view put forward in Lionel Wigmore’s The Japanese Thrust, namely that large-scale escape was not to be permitted. Or was Bennett’s unofficial approval merely directed at the officer class? Crucially, was he excusing his own actions in advance?

  His initial version of events also makes no mention of the fact he was actively considering escape some days before capitulation. Instead he maintains that he called Charles Moses and Gordon Walker and told them it was his decision to escape under the cover of darkness ‘after the surrender had been completed’. Significantly he crosses out the phrase ‘all arrangements for’ as in ‘after all arrangements for the surrender had been completed’, suggesting that he did not want to admit he had considered escaping before the surrender time itself.18 This might be seen as a nit-picking observation, but given the subsequent legal debate, the inclusion of those three words could have had a bearing on his case.

  In all three versions Bennett describes how he received confirmation of the ceasefire time, which would be 8.30 pm, and how he then gave detailed instructions allocating assembly positions where arms could be dumped. At 8 pm, Bennett recorded, he received a message from one of his units that the enemy opposite the front was singing, cheering and shouting excitedly. What should they do if the enemy ran amok? The unit was told that as the ceasefire did not begin until 8.30 pm they could take severe action to check any Japanese advance.19

  About this time Moses arrived on the scene to report that he was negotiating with a Chinese for a boat so that they could either make directly for Sumatra or move around the island and sail up the Malayan coast to Malacca.

  ‘Meanwhile, I moved among my senior staff, telling them of my intentions to escape, so that I could get back to Australia and tell the detailed story, passing on lessons we had learned during the last few weeks and also making requests to help in the ultimate relief of our grand army of brave men,’ he wrote. ‘They realised the risk and the difficulties ahead of the venture.’20

  In his own account of the escape in Why Singapore Fell, Bennett recalled he told Moses that he would be ready some time after 10.30 pm and that if the Japanese approached before he had finished his work he would hide himself so that he would not be captured. Was mention of the time designed to emphasise that he left well after the signing of the surrender document?

  The timing of his escape is also recorded in Frank Legg’s official biography, in which Bennett recalls how Moses and Walker returned with their Chinese guide to lead them to their boat.

  ‘It was well after 10 p.m. that I said a sad farew
ell to all my friends, most of whom I had known well in civil life,’ he stated.21

  In a more reflective mood, Bennett would mull over in his wartime memoir how the hopes and optimistic ambitions of his men had been shattered.

  ‘Our individual efforts had been successful. Yet for some unknown reason they had lost the fight. It was not unlike the case of a man in a race who has thought he was winning, leading all the way, but who finds the judge’s decision against him.’

  Though this extract from his diary is dated 15 February 1942, it is obvious from his contemplative style that it was written some time later:

  Their war was over. They were to become prisoners of the despised Japanese. They were to submit to the ignominious position of spending the rest of the war behind barbed wire – at the mercy of the Japanese who had a very bad reputation for the way in which they treated their prisoners.

  Their wives and children, their parents, their friends, their homes in Australia were suddenly cut off. None knew when they would see them again. Proud men accept such servility with bad grace.22

  Bennett also went into detail about his discussions with senior officers regarding the possibility of escape, urging them to go ahead and make a run for it. He shared his own views and explained the best ways of doing it.

  All agreed that it would be a hazardous journey, with the likelihood of heavy casualties, although a number had banded together into escape groups and equipped themselves accordingly.23

  ‘I personally had made this decision some time previously, having decided that I would not fall into Japanese hands,’ he stated plainly. ‘My decision was fortified by the resolve that I must at all costs return to Australia to tell our people the story of our conflict with the Japanese, to warn them of the danger to Australia, and to advise them of the best means of defeating the Japanese tactics.’24

  The fact that others had already left the island and got back to or were heading to Australia might not sit comfortably in the narrative of a leader who believed only he could provide the necessary insight. Come what may Bennett was eager to put his own spin on his escape.