Escape to Pagan

by Brian Devereux

  Justice Nippon-style

  “One day my mother and I were sitting outside when a tribeswoman suddenly appeared along the dirt road. Congealed blood covered her face, neck and her colourful tribal costume. She looked as if she had been mauled by some wild animal (Mother said sloth bears often attack the face). This woman said she had been robbed of her dowry by a Japanese soldier. She asked some Burmese women where she could find the camp commander. They told her to speak to Mr Thomas who worked for the Japanese; he escorted her to Major Watanabe. The Major had lived in Shwebo before the war and spoke good Burmese. The tribeswoman told Watanabe that she was on her way to market when she was stopped by a patrol of soldiers and questioned. One of them demanded the thick gold rings through her nose, ears and around her neck. When she refused he physically pulled the jewellery off, causing her these terrible injuries. These items were her dowry, as was her face, which would now be scarred for life. Her chances of finding a husband were now greatly reduced. Every Japanese, whether he is an officer or a one-star private, inherits an inbuilt tradition of peasant values. This cultural rural logic would pluck at the strings of their code of honour.

  “The commander asked the young woman if she could recognize the soldier responsible. She said she could. Waiting until all the patrols had returned, the camp commander mustered all the troops out on to the parade ground. The news had quickly spread and most of the people who lived in the terraced houses, along with the Burmese villagers went to see the outcome of Japanese justice. These curious watchers would soon be shocked. We did not go as it was not compulsory, but heard all about it after it was over.

  “The tribeswoman along with the commander and several officers, all carrying their swords, walked along the line of soldiers. The tribeswoman recognized the soldier who had robbed her. He was quickly searched; nothing was found. NCOs rushed to the barracks to search his possessions and the gold was found. The soldier was then disarmed and his face slapped in public by Major Watanabe, who then drew his pistol and shot the Japanese soldier dead. That was the first time many of the onlookers had seen a man killed. The gold was returned to the tribeswoman.

  “One day we heard wonderful whispers: the British were counter-attacking in the Arakan, and the Chinese Army together with the Americans were pushing down from the north. We were so excited at this news and watched the Japanese with interest. But they carried on as normal and looked unconcerned. We heard that British soldiers who had been captured would soon be arriving at Tada u. We were all very curious to see them and waited in anticipation. A lorry arrived with the prisoners who looked very tired and thin in their tattered uniforms but did not seem to have been tortured. Their hands were tied at their sides with rope around their waists. They had to be helped off the trucks because when they fell over they could not get up again. They were lined up and several Japanese officers arrived with swords. Oh my God, I thought they were going to be beheaded in public and we would be forced to watch.

  “These British prisoners looked apprehensive and blinked in the sunlight. They were all given water and then led away to the Kempeitai building. We all dreaded hearing their screams that night. The following afternoon Maureen, who worked for the Japs, said the prisoners were given food and were then taken to Rangoon. I prayed Jack was still alive and not being ill-treated wherever he was.

  “The Allied ground attack never came but Allied planes began flying over Tada u. Then one day a pilot who had been shot down was brought in to camp. He was to be decapitated and everyone was ordered to attend. I did not want to go; my mother said that if we did not attend the Kempeitai would suspect us of having anti-Japanese feelings. I was determined to close my eyes when it happened.”

  I remember this gathering as we young children wanted to see a man’s head being cut off, or so we thought. We were fascinated by the Japanese swords and the reverence their owners afforded them. We were led to believe they were magical weapons and could cut through iron; these swords could win battles on their own when in the hands of the Japanese.

  “A large crowd had gathered; army to one side, civilians to the other. Most of the people from Tada u and surrounding villages were present and seemed to be looking forward to the event, although they remained very silent. I believed they all changed their minds after. I was almost in tears; my mother told me to pull myself together, she said the pilot would have been drugged with opium, he would not know what was going on. In fact, that afternoon there would be two beheadings. All the Japanese soldiers stood around smoking and chattering until two Jap officers appeared smartly dressed in white shirts and white gloves: both carried swords. Now the mood of the watching Japanese troops changed and everyone fell silent while they went about their rituals.”

  Beheading was almost conducted with solemn reverence a mixture of Bushido and Shinto Buddhism. The more sensitive of the Japanese watchers may have felt a twinge of sympathy for the prisoner if he died bravely. I did not see this beheading; perhaps I just heard the faint sigh of expelled breath from the watchers after the blade flashed downwards.

  “When we got there, I stood behind my mother; I couldn’t see anything, and neither could you, thank God. Even so, I closed my eyes during each beheading. We did not know who the second man was. We were told of another beheading a few weeks later that had taken place behind the Kempeitai building, witnessed only by some Burmese men who had climbed nearby trees for a better view. The execution was carried out crudely without skill; at each failed attempt the victim’s screams could be heard by the spectators. This upset them, as the man was locally known.”

  “Every morning we would go out foraging to collect firewood and various wild plants that were safe to eat. There were small soft-shell crabs to be found in a swampy area; these would be fried in peanut oil with onions and garlic. In this swamp we had competition in the form of a very large monitor lizard that used to hiss at us. When it realized my mother was intent on killing it for food, it kept its distance. I was terrified of it; it could run and swim extremely quickly. Every time we went out foraging in this area, I thought about the woman who had mysteriously disappeared.

  “On our way home from our foraging trip, we passed the large sports field and noticed a group of Burmese had gathered and were intently watching something in the middle of the field; they appeared ready to bolt, young legs nearest, old legs further back to ensure a good head start. As we moved closer, we saw the object of their interest to be two large male hamadryads in ritual combat. This titanic battle had been going on for some time. These were the first wild king cobras I had seen.”

  I can still see in my distant mind’s eye, the two massive venomous snakes with their large oval hooded heads raised high off the ground. The two king cobras were fighting for the pleasure of mating with a female; I presume she was watching the contest with amorous interest. When these aggressive snakes are fighting for a female, they become oblivious to the presence of nearby humans.

  “A young junior Japanese officer happened to be passing by the field at the same time when he was called over by some pretty Burmese girls. Curiously he approached and the two fighting snakes were pointed out to him. At first he could not believe his eyes – the two snake heads were five to six feet off the ground and you had to look closely to see they were indeed snakes. The Jap officer’s mouth fell open and he grimaced like a monkey. We would later get to know this officer quite well as he and his men were in charge of the pack ponies that used to be tethered under the trees outside our terrace; he reminded my mother of a startled frog.

  “The watching Burmese, especially the pretty young women, encouraged the Japanese officer to kill the snakes. They conveniently neglected to inform him that there was a female hamadryad nearby. If bitten the massive amount of venom injected [the bite of a king cobra can inject over 500cc of venom at one time which can kill an elephant] would have rendered him unconscious before he reached the army barracks. The Jap hesitated, but Nipponese manhood was at stake. He drew his sword and pulling a fa
ce only a Jap could pull, slowly approached the two preoccupied reptiles in true kendo fashion legs apart. As soon as he was in range, his sword flashed and two large decapitated heads fell to the ground while their bodies coiled and uncoiled like giant corkscrews. All the pretty girls clapped and commented on his bravery. The Jap stood distracted and basked in the adulation. It was only when he turned to inspect the two heads that he saw the female hamadryad approaching; head high off the ground charging down on him with great speed. Without further ado the terrified Jap bolted, dropping his sword in the process. Deprived of revenge the female hamadryad returned into the jungle. On seeing the female snake’s departure, the Japanese junior officer returned grinning and with sign language, asked the watching Burmese to retrieve honourable weapon. They declined his generous offer. Slowly with an eye on where the female snake had disappeared, he picked up his sword and after skewering both heads on his blade, made for the army barracks to show his comrades. The disappointed Burmese disbanded.

  “One day, I remember, you stole a ping-pong ball belonging to a Japanese soldier who chased you as you ran back home with it. You were hiding behind your grandmother still holding the ping-pong ball when the angry Japanese soldier appeared at our open door only to be confronted by my mother. The enraged soldier was surprised when my mother spoke to him in Nippon Go. When she found out what you had done she grabbed you by the arm and gave you a good beating on your naked bottom with her leather slipper watched by the smiling Japanese soldier. You were still loathe to give up the ball, so your grandmother had to wrestle it out of your hand. The watching Jap soldier then requested an extra whack on your backside for good measure. This you got. You were balling your eyes out.”

  I remember this well; me and other naked Burmese children were sitting on chairs watching the Japanese soldiers play a game of ping-pong in one of the army barracks. I was fascinated by the ping-pong ball; it seemed like a magical round egg that didn’t break and as soon as it fell at my feet I picked it up and scarpered with the Jap in hot pursuit. It would be several years before I owned my own ping-pong ball that would lead to a far more frightening experience.

  “Several days after you stole the ping-pong ball, you came running in the house crying. A Japanese soldier who was giving out slices of watermelon to the village children shouted at you to go away. Your grandmother got angry and went straight out to buy you a watermelon. When she came back and cut the watermelon open, you refused to eat it because the flesh wasn’t as red as the Jap’s melon. We could have murdered you. My mother and I ate the melon.”

  I remember this incident clearly. I joined the queue for a slice of melon but an Indian boy spotted me and said something to the Japanese soldier. I was bellowed at – “Kurra!” – and legged it home crying. Perhaps the Indian boy had told the Japanese soldier that I was the notorious ping-pong ball thief?

  “It was around this time that we heard rumours that the Japanese were running out of ammunition and that they were now using bamboo machine guns that made the same noise to fool the enemy. This turned out to be true.”

  CHAPTER 21

  The Cherry Blossom Islands

  JAPAN

  The 724 fit survivors of the Lisbon Maru reached Japan without incident on the Shencei Maru, which docked at Moji harbour on the 10th October. To the surprise of the prisoners, representatives from the world’s press were present and wished to speak to them regarding the sinking of the Lisbon Maru. Before this could happen, the prisoners were warned not to divulge any of the details that would compromise the reputation of their captors. Knowing there would be severe reprisals, the survivors were forced to comply. This enabled the Japanese to sanctimoniously announce that all the rescued prisoners were eternally grateful for the kind and generous treatment they received from the Imperial Army and Navy. Tokyo Rose (Iva Toguri D’Aquino) had another field day praising Nipponese gallantry while criticising the American submarine arm as heartless barbarians for deliberately sinking a prisoner of war ship.

  However, soon after, the Japanese Army Headquarters in Tokyo issued an order concerning all prisoners being shipped to Japan: “Recently during transporting prisoners of war to Nippon, many prisoners have died and many have been incapacitated due to their treatment on board. In future the prisoners should arrive at their destination in a condition to perform work for the good of the Nipponese war effort.” The next part of the order was typical of the Japanese when dealing with non-Japanese: “If the present conditions continue [concerning prisoners] it will be impossible for us to expect world opinion of us to be what we want it to be!” Despite this order, conditions for prisoners at sea did not change for the better; perhaps this order was “belly talk”; you had to guess what it really meant.

  The remaining prisoners (the so-called “fit” men) were then split into two groups. I have no exact information regarding where Sergeant Devereux was at this time, perhaps he was still in Shanghai with the seriously sick or in the hospital at Kukara where another twenty-two prisoners died.

  At Moji the prisoners were surprised to be loaded onto comfortable trains and provided with regular meals of good quality and quantity. The prisoners were taken to Hiroshima; from there they were split up and sent to various work camps, mines and dockyards in Nagasaki, Osaka, Narumi and Nagoya.

  Sergeant Devereux, when classed fit for work, spent some time in Narumi, Tateyama and Nagoya POW camp. Nagoya camp was situated in the middle of the town where he was in charge of a working party of Royal Scots. He was later transferred (according to Mother) to Nagasaki before the war ended. This may well be true, as he often talked of the Australians (there were no Australians in Tateyama as far as I know) who were the greatest risk takers, thieves and saboteurs of Japanese war production, despite the regular bashings they received from the guards. He and other men of the Royal Scots used to cringe as an Australian whose surname was Diamond used to nosily puncture drums containing oil with a hammer and spike late at night.

  One thing I do know, wherever the Sergeant was, he would be exchanging his midday rice and small pickle for tobacco. The weather in Japan can be colder than Britain, as the islands are situated not far from Siberia. The biting cold wind cut through the thin uniforms of the half-starved prisoners.

  “Jack said that the winds in Japan where colder than those that came off the Pennines in winter. In Nagoya Jack began to learn Nippon Go from a member of the Hong Kong Volunteer Force who spoke it fluently. Many of the elderly businessmen serving in the HKVF spoke Japanese and Chinese in their line of work. Their presence was one of the reasons why this POW camp ran relatively smoothly. Much of the troubles in POW camps were caused by misunderstandings.”

  Tam and Willie finally ended up in Nagasaki. At the beginning the food and the daily quotas of work expected were reasonable and this continued throughout the first year, however, the following year when Nippon no longer ruled the seas, the food situation grew steadily worse for all the people of Japan. The submarine embargo enforced on Japan by America was biting hard. Japanese civilians were hungry and were forced to go out at weekends to forage for wild greens in the countryside and collect seaweed.

  One day at Nagoya POW camp, the volatile veteran guard Sergeant Kanamura presented Sergeant Devereux with a small satsuma as if it was the most rare and mythical “All Seeing Eye.” The grateful Sergeant quickly swapped it for three cigarettes. Sergeant Devereux was Kanamura’s favourite prisoner because of his honesty and military bearing while taking his punishment, and perhaps because he survived an attempted beheading. He considered himself an expert on decapitation after his long service in China and had many photographs to prove it. Using his cane, Kanamura often used Sergeant Devereux to demonstrate the correct way to behead a prisoner. It must have entered the Sergeant’s mind that one day a warrior-god would use a real sword instead of a stick.

  CHAPTER 22

  Typhoid and Cholera

  BURMA

  “Cholera and typhoid were bought to Tada u by some poor Tamil sl
ave workers who had escaped from the Three Pagodas Pass, on the Burmese side of the Siam death railway. They left several of their dead companions behind near the Buddhist pagoda and water well. To our consternation, you contracted typhoid. If it was not for your grandmother’s care and attention, you would have died. I didn’t know what to do or how to cope keeping your illness a secret not only from the Japs but everyone else that lived in our terrace. The Japanese were terrified of typhoid and cholera, which could kill in twenty-four hours. They walked around wearing white masks and gloves for many days keeping away from everyone. All the bodies had to be burnt in the jungle. My mother said we had to isolate your drinking water from ours as typhoid is spread through water.

  “After a week or so you began to recover, but we didn’t allow you to play with the other children until you had gained weight and looked relatively healthy. We used to go to all kinds of lengths to get you to eat and look normal. Luckily just before you fell ill you had caught a serious parasitic disease called mec-a-lau. You broke out in boils on your bottom, each containing parasitic worms that would have eventually burrowed into the skin and entered your vital organs, killing you. This was our excuse to keep you indoors for this infection was also very contagious. My mother had never heard of this disease before and did not know how to treat it. The Burmese women told her to contact a tribal shaman woman who could cure the infection with a native remedy. The shaman, an old tribeswoman, arrived.

  “We had to hold you down on your tummy while she put some white powder on the boils on your bottom; she then placed something in her mouth and began chewing, then puffed on her big cigar until it glowed red. She then dabbed the red hot cigar on each boil and burst them while you screamed the place down. I felt so sorry for you, but the female shaman just laughed and spat some brown liquid on each wound. This quietened you down a bit and you soon fell asleep. My mother said the shaman had been chewing opium.