My parents were curious about their house in Taunggyi, although they must have had a good idea that it was no longer a hill station paradise. Besides, I think my father knew or had a fair idea that Burma would soon be given independence. I think he also knew by then that the 2nd Battalion Royal Scots were being posted to Singapore where his army career would come to an end. It was Dad’s intention to move back to England eventually. Mother was not happy about leaving her mother and family behind in Burma. England was on the other side of the world and did not appeal to my mother and me, as we had just seen the film Great Expectations. Our concept of England was based on the scene when Pip and the convict met in the cold foggy graveyard. To us England was a frigid country, a mass of swirling damp mists, fog and cold rain; a land devoid of warmth and sunshine. One evening my dad asked my mother what special gift would she really like. She told him she wanted a Singer sewing machine. I was then asked what special gift I would like. My answer was simple: a ping-pong ball.
“We returned to Taunggyi in a Jeep with an armed military convoy that was taking stores and equipment to the Shan States. My heart broke when I saw Taunggyi; it had changed so much. Everyone we knew had gone, and only their ghosts remained. When we pulled up outside what was once our lovely home, I cried. I could not recognize it. The fence and gate were missing and only a glimpse of the foundations could be seen through the tangle of jungle. I did not want to leave the Jeep. Taunggyi would never be the same again; I wanted to remember it as it was before the war.
“Before we left Burma, we stayed with my sister Grace, who lived near the Shwedagon Pagoda. I will never forget what happened when you realized that your grandmother was leaving. She was trying to sneak away in a gharry when you noticed what was happening. You were determined to go with her. We could not catch you, you were running through the legs of the horses and finally climbed up onto the roof of the gharry like a monkey, screaming and bawling your eyes out. Even my mother could not stop crying. You had to be dragged down and held while my mother left. We would never see her again.”
Cyril, Lucy and Harry survived the war. After we had left Burma, Aunty Lucy’s entire family were viciously attacked by one of their servants, who turned out to be a dacoit. All members of this family suffered terrible injuries inflicted by a Burmese dah. Though badly mutilated, all survived the brutal attack but carried the terrible scars for the rest of their lives. My uncle Cyril, who escaped capture, lived with hill tribes and married a Shan chieftain’s daughter. They had many children.
The RSM died in the winter of 1962. I tried to give him the kiss of life. He was only 52. Mother joined him in 1988; she was 76. They are both content now.
Appendix
A brief history: My family and their prejudices
Grandmother’s mother was Anglo-Burmese and her father Portuguese. They owned a ruby mine. Her father disliked the French but favoured the English. Her first husband James Talbot, an Irishman, disliked the English, preferring the French. Her second husband – Herman Unger, a German businessman – also disliked the English and believed they were allowing the Indians to dominate the markets; he favoured the Japanese. My mother Kate Devereux was so proud to be British but disliked the name Devereux as it was a Norman name. My grandmother, being half Portuguese, disliked the French. Napoleon and the Grand Armée were as popular in Portugal and Spain as Oliver Cromwell and the roundheads were in Ireland.
“My mother was multi-lingual and spoke five languages including Nippon Go. My father Herman Unger had Japanese clients who he often entertained at home. Mother also used Japanese professionals as they were skilled, reliable and polite. She soon picked up the Japanese language and its delicate intonations from the wives of his clients.”
Jack Devereux was from Nelson, Lancashire. His siblings did well in life; one of them owned the Devereux Private School for Girls. Dad’s father sang in operas and his younger brother Brian was a successful businessman. Dad was proud of his sensible nieces and nephews. He told me once I should emulate them, but I was still wayward and could only see through a light glass darkly.
The two main characters of this struggle of survival are my matriarchal grandmother Harriet Unger, formerly Harriet Talbot, and my father RSM Jack Devereux, formerly of the 1st Battalion Royal Scots (The First of Foot). The 1st Battalion saw action protecting the flanks at Dunkirk. Later, they were posted to Burma where Father met and married Mother before the battalion was sent to Palestine.
Throughout the book I spell Burmese names phonetically as Mother pronounced them. I cannot find Tada u, our internment camp, on any map, despite it being a substantial British barracks pre-war. I asked Mother about the location where we joined local Burmese as they looted warehouses; she said it was near Yu. Looking at various maps (some Japanese) I can see a town called Yeu, a village called Yu, and a town called Ye-u. There are also rivers called the Yu and the Mu, so the location of the warehouses is still uncertain. The only spelling Mother corrected (when she noticed it was incorrect) was “Tada u” which was where we were interned for three years. I had initially spelt it “Dada-u” as Mum pronounced it. However, the publisher has researched the subject thoroughly and proposed a location for the camp, indicated on the map at the front on the book.
During the war, Esme and Olly, who lived in a nunnery, were saved from starvation by Japanese officers. Esme, a nursing sister, did her best to care for Patrick, Aunty Lucy’s oldest son, who was a doctor when he became ill with cancer. He died young despite the care of his aunt, Sister Esme McPherson and Olly her sister. They now live in Harlow.
Glenis was my father’s pride and joy. At two years old while living in Johore we nearly lost her. Now walking, Glenis never missed an opportunity to escape. A large black cobra (Malayan sub-species) lived in our front garden. Every evening our dogs would harry the snake as it left its lair. One night we were having a dinner party, and my mother went to check on Glynis. “Jack!” she screamed, “Glenis is gone!” Dusk was falling. A sharp-eyed guest spotted Glenis running down the driveway. Jack chased after her and brought her back in his arms. Entering the house, the dogs began barking. Glenis had missed the cobra by seconds …
Glenis is now a successful sculptress.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Copyright © 2016 by Brian Devereux
978-1-5040-4021-1
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