Malayan Spymaster

by Boris Hembry

  As it was now about five in the morning and dawn fast approaching, and we had been on the move for over eight hours, Frank decided that we would withdraw into the adjacent rubber and rest up. Sleep was impossible, even though we were all dead tired. We were filthy dirty, hungry, and bitten to blazes by mosquitoes.

  We could still see the road. Military traffic continued constantly, but there were no convoys. We saw many more captured lorries loaded with troops, the occasional tank and Bren carrier and, really worrying so far as our own safety was concerned, hundreds of soldiers mounted on bicycles. Frank sent the gunners deeper into the rubber as one or two of them were quite likely to stand up, if only to pee, and be spotted by some keen-eyed Jap on the look-out for stragglers.

  We rested until about midday, when I realised that we must be near Guthrie’s Kerling Estate, so I suggested that we made our way to the coolie lines where we might be able to get help and something to eat. Frank agreed, and we soon reached what was obviously an estate road, which we followed, keeping to the trees about 20 yards in, as the Japs could well have been patrolling these roads, until we came to a Chinese kongsi. Here we were hospitably but nervously received. The Chinese boiled some water and we mixed this with the one tin of condensed milk that remained and shared it between all of us – each man received a cigarette tin of hot watery milk. Elixir. Our first ‘meal’ for 48 hours. We were given directions and, after walking for another couple of hours over some very steep hills, we came upon a stream that led us directly to the Kerling Estate village.

  Here we received a magnificent welcome from the Kerling employees, coolies and office staff alike, and were showered with all kinds of drink and food which we devoured ravenously. A young Tamil woman rushed up to me and said that she worked on Kamuning. She had burst into tears on recognising me, anxiously asked about Jean and John, and cried again when I had to admit that I had no idea of their whereabouts except that I had heard they had managed to leave Singapore. By knowing most of the Europeans on Kerling I was able to establish a close relationship with the senior Asian staff. Nothing was too much trouble, in spite of the fact that these were very dangerous times for anyone befriending the British. These loyal people risked certain death to protect us bedraggled, starving and desperate strangers. As soon as I could, after the Jap surrender, I made a point of going to Kerling in the hope of finding the people concerned, and particularly the young woman from Kamuning. She had left, and only the chief clerk remembered the incident.

  Kerling was a very isolated estate and scarcely produced any rubber during the occupation, so most of the staff would have dispersed in search of work elsewhere. I did, however, advise Guthrie’s of the help given by these kind people, and I am glad to say it was acknowledged in the first post-war annual report and a donation made to the staff fund.

  They prepared a substantial curry and also provided the bootless amongst us with socks and rubber soled shoes. Unfortunately my feet were far too large, so I had to continue to make do with my own torn plimsolls. Squatting down to eat in the rubber store we were given news of the battles that had taken place at Rawang and Kuala Selangor, and that the British were fast withdrawing to the Seremban area. This was very depressing, for how on earth were we ever to catch up?

  They told us that the Japanese had already been to the estate and checked the rubber, rice and other stocks, and had threatened death to all concerned should any be missing on their next inspection. The Japanese had arrived on motorbikes and had appeared to be cognisant of all the details of the estate, including the names of the European and senior Asian staffs, production, etc. Before the war the Japanese had inundated Malaya with countless dentists, photographers, barbers, pearl fishermen and tourists, and all, almost without exception, were spies. They recorded estate details, mapped jungle trails, the strength of road bridges, and other information which would be useful to an invading and occupying army. The resident photographer in Sungei Siput for several years, generally liked and well respected, and used by all of us both for personal portraits and estate functions, turned up in the wake of the Japanese army as commissar for the area. In retrospect it was significant that most of these Japanese residents in Malaya left the country a matter of months before the outbreak of hostilities, presumably ordered to leave to avoid internment.

  Frank, Ronald and I discussed destroying the rubber stocks, smoke houses and the factory, as had been laid down by the Government’s scorched-earth policy, but decided against the idea. We were sure that the Japs would take reprisals on the estate workers, and, in any case, so many rubber stocks had not been destroyed that Kerling’s would have made no difference.

  We were urged not to delay our departure as the Japanese were expected to return the next day. The head clerk advised us to cut through the jungle separating Kerling from a SOCFIN estate named Nigel Gardner, from where we could join the railway again to head south. He also promised a reliable guide to lead us through the jungle. We agreed, but were beginning to have grave doubts as to whether we would ever catch up our retreating troops.

  So we lay down in the rubber store on the blankets which the staff loaned us, too tired to mount guard, and slept. At dawn the following morning we were woken with hot tea and were introduced to the Tamil guide. After thanking the estate staff most profusely we set off through the jungle, following Sakai paths and wild boar trails, and must have covered nearly 12 miles in about eight hours when we came out near the Nigel Gardner estate office and lines, completely exhausted. The guide went ahead to ask whether we would be welcome, and about the possible movement of Japanese in the area. We were again most hospitably received. Another large curry was prepared and hot water supplied to bathe our feet and to wash ourselves.

  Our feet were now in a very poor condition. I had three large blisters which made every step hell, and the thorn and leech wounds were septic and suppurating badly. All our wounds were expertly treated and bandaged up by the estate dresser, so at least they would not be subject to any further contamination for a little while. After the sumptuous curry we bedded down in a packing shed for the night. However, few enjoyed much sleep. Two hot spicy curries in quick succession after several days of near starvation played havoc with our digestive systems, resulting in great discomfort and frequent visits to the nearby rubber trees.

  We were warned that a gang of Malays had been armed by the Japs and had been promised $20 a head for every British soldier they shot. I have always doubted this, even after being told that there are records of British Army stragglers being handed over to the Japs, maybe sometimes for a reward. Luckily, I experienced nothing but sympathy, kindness and assistance from all that we met, irrespective of nationality.

  This SOCFIN estate had over 100,000 pounds of rubber in stock, and all the buildings and manufacturing machinery were intact. The manager had refused to destroy anything, despite government orders. On the whole I believe he was right. After all, the ‘invincible’ British were leaving the native population in the lurch, in the hands of a bestial enemy, and it would have been quite wrong to have added to their misfortune by denying them the ability to earn a living and to feed their families.

  Frank recorded in his diary everything of note that we saw, heard and did, to be able to make a full report when we eventually reached base. In it he had also made many amusing comments about Ronald, myself and our Lancashire lads. We three were very happy together, with complete confidence in each other. Frank was an inspiration to us all. His first thoughts were always for the unfortunate men whom we were trying to lead to safety. I often used to glimpse him at the tail of our party, helping a crippled soldier, or offering words of encouragement.

  The next morning, after a breakfast of fruit and tea, we piled on to an estate lorry and were given a lift along the estate roads as far as the Batu Arang coal mine railway line where we debussed and followed the track for about five miles, until we arrived at another rubber estate. Our Tamil guide warned us that the labour force was treacherous, having run th
e Asian staff off the estate, looted all the bungalows and generally run amok. We approached the factory and office warily, and passed the vandalised manager’s bungalow. The squatters in residence looked very surly, so we hurried on with merely a cursory acknowledgement. We learned from a Chinese coolie that an action of some sort had occurred in a neighbouring village only two or three days before, so I went ahead to recce the situation, in case there were still Japs around, maybe licking their wounds. I hid behind a banana tree for 10 minutes or so, saw no enemy, so walked along the main path into the village, full of trepidation, with the intention of finding the kedai (shop) and some food. The shopkeeper was most apologetic but looters had been there before. And from the way he spoke I understood that they were British rather than Japanese. But I did find a dozen or so perfectly serviceable abandoned British Army lorries and a staff car. They even had reasonably full petrol tanks.

  When I got back to Frank we did discuss taking one of the trucks, but felt that that would really be asking for trouble. Ronald suggested that they could possibly have been booby-trapped, maybe even by our own side. So we decided to make for Batang Bajantai on foot. Just past the village we had to cross a river by a demolished bridge that the Japs had partially repaired, in full view of the astonished villagers who turned out to watch. The area around the other side was littered with field gun shell cases, abandoned rifles and other war impedimenta, but nothing that would be of any use to us. So we pressed on. We had not gone more than a couple of hundred yards when an elderly Chinese rushed up and warned us that a lot of Japanese were coming up the road towards us from Batang Bajuntai. Also that the town itself was full of the enemy and must be avoided at all costs.

  We hurriedly withdrew into the roadside rubber trees, out of sight from the road, and sat down in a hollow to discuss the situation. The Chinese said that for $1,000 he would lead us through the jungle to Seremban, south of KL. While we were at Kerling I had torn a map of Malaya out of an exercise book I had found in the estate school. Seremban seemed a very long way away. Getting there by circuitous jungle paths would add considerably to the distance, quite apart from the time factor. By the time we reached Seremban we could be reasonably certain that our troops would be at least 100 miles further south. However, we accepted the Chinese’s offer, gave him some money on account, and set off at a cracking pace, heading for Batu Arang coal mine.

  We covered the seven miles in less than two hours and arrived at our guide’s house utterly exhausted. En route we had passed several Sikhs who were obviously police deserters. Japanese aircraft flew low overhead almost continuously, so we were constantly having to dive for cover. All the colliery buildings were intact, although the machinery had been destroyed or immobilised, and the staff bungalows vandalised either by retreating British troops or the colliery’s own labour force. I suspect the former. We had our first bath for many days in one of the mining pools, although the effect was somewhat spoilt by our having to don our filthy clothes again afterwards. The Chinese gave us a meal, for which he charged us outrageously, but we were not prepared to argue. He promptly disappeared on ‘urgent business’ and we feared the worse, so Ronald and I stood look out on the likely approach routes. However, he returned as promised and at about six in the evening we set out for Sungei Buloh, 17 miles to the south.

  To begin with I was at the rear, so was on the receiving end of the usual cannonade, but at dusk I swapped places with Frank and joined the Chinese guide at the front. For the next 10 hours we wandered through tin mines, rubber plantations, mangrove swamps and kampongs. We must have covered over 20 miles, but as most seemed to be in ever-decreasing circles it is surprising that we did not all disappear. The tin tailings were particularly tiresome, as most had been flooded so, for hours at a time, we sloshed about in mud up to our knees, always mindful of the fact that we might encounter a deep mining hole and vanish completely. During a brief rest it was realised that two of the gunners were missing, so I retraced our path and luckily came across them two miles back, and absolutely at the end of their tethers. It took a lot of persuading to get them to summon up their strength to rejoin the party. It was obvious that the gunners, except perhaps one of the sergeants, were beginning to doubt the wisdom of having joined up with us.

  The old Chinese led us straight through a village that was all too obviously occupied by Japanese. He shouted at the top of his voice for us to keep quiet and not to be bodohs (fools), sweeping the beam of the torch from side to side. I can only think that the Japs did not investigate because they thought he was merely a drunk on his way home from a toddy session. Or they were drunk themselves. At any rate, they saw no reason to mount guard or to investigate the disturbance.

  It was here that Ah Lam decided to leave us. He went with our blessing, as we had no need for a radio operator, was another mouth to feed, and he would most certainly have been tortured and executed if we were captured, whereas there was a fifty-fifty chance that the rest of us would be treated as POWs.

  At long last we reached the main Kuala Lumpur to Kuala Selangor road where we collapsed into the undergrowth through sheer fatigue. We were so tired that we had no energy even to bestir ourselves, but only to lie low, when about 30 enemy motor cyclists, light armoured cars and lorries came by, headlights blazing, heading for KL. When these had disappeared, and after a rest, we retreated further into the rubber trees and headed off in the direction of Sungei Buloh. The guide said that he knew of a hut nearby which he was sure we could reach in three hours, providing that we had to make no more excursions. As we soon came to the estate boundary and the rubber had petered out into secondary jungle we took to the road, hoping that we would have sufficient warning of oncoming traffic to be able to dive for cover. But we had a shock when, on rounding a bend, we came across three Jap armoured cars parked on the roadside. Too late to do anything we simply marched straight on by, expecting at any moment to be shot from behind, but nothing happened. Maybe all the Japs were asleep without posting sentries. When we had rounded the next bend and were out of sight we discussed whether one of us should go back to drop a few grenades down the hatches, but decided it was too risky to try to approach the vehicles for a second time without being seen, and anyway the explosions would most certainly have alerted every other Jap in the neighbourhood to come looking for us.

  We reached the hut, which was about 50 yards off the road and without much cover, shortly after 3 am, having been on the go for 10 hours. I was reluctant to stay there and was all for moving deeper into the rubber – we were amongst rubber trees that had obviously not been husbanded for many years, so there was undergrowth – but the others were all in and had collapsed on to the floor and I saw little hope of stirring them. So I lay down, thinking to myself that there was a most unpleasant smell, as if from a dead body, but was by then too tired to investigate.

  We had not been asleep for more than 15 minutes when I heard a motorbike drive up and switch off its engine on the road immediately opposite our hut. I realised that Frank had heard it too. Nothing happened, no one approached, so I crept out to investigate. I crawled up to the roadside, expecting any moment to be challenged, but could see nothing. Hiding behind a tree I heard another vehicle approaching, with headlights blazing. I watched as the armoured troop carrier got almost opposite me when it too switched off its engine and headlights and coasted down the hill, disappearing into the darkness. I realised then that they were preserving petrol by freewheeling down hills. Frank decided that we should move further from the road, and Ronald and I took turns to stand guard for the rest of the night.

  At dawn I returned to the hut and found, to my horror, that my suspicions had been correct. Within a couple of feet of where I had spread myself to sleep was what remained of a human body, a heaving, seething mass of white maggots. The skull had been completely stripped of flesh, and they were busy on the torso. There was no way of telling the nationality or the cause of death. I heaved to be sick. Unfortunately there was nothing in my stomach to sick up
, so it was agony

  As there was much enemy activity on the road we decided to stay in this vicinity for a few days, both to allow those with very sore feet – most, if not all of us – to recuperate, and in the hope that Japanese would move on, presumably as the front line moved closer to KL. We soon realised that we were quite near a railway station and trains were arriving every half hour or so. Ronald, Frank and I took it in turns to creep as near as we could to see the Japs unloading men, weapons, ammunition and rice bags and loading them on to lorries which immediately drove off southwards, so that we could take notes which we, I must admit by then, somewhat forlornly hoped would be included in our report when we eventually got back to base. As the trains were obviously ours, and had equally obviously come some distance, through tunnels and over bridges, we were not over-impressed with the efficacy of the scorched-earth policy ordered by the Governor.

  During the three days of our sojourn there we had no more than three bananas per man each day to eat, and the only water available was from a small and very muddy stream running near the road. Consequently we could only collect this at night. I recall waking up one morning with my tongue so swollen that I could not swallow or even close my mouth, and I imagined all the diseases that I may have picked up by drinking contaminated water. Fortunately, the swelling had mostly gone by the next day, so I decided that I must have been stung by an insect whilst sleeping with my mouth open. We had managed to retain a bottle of whisky, now less than half full, used solely for medical purposes. My swollen tongue was judged to qualify.