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were: “Only' half an hour to bleed to death? Not half long-enough for him to suflEer!” “Too good for him!” “I wish thatI could have had the old bastard to finish off! ” “They oughtto have kept him alive to prolong his agony!” “Slow torture iswhat he needed!”
Lieutenant T^ita Nekata,
V®ur Criminal Number 3.
Ejoanited by hanging, aftercutting his own throats
Some of my papers from “captivity,” which he must havehad with him, were returned to me at Labuan by the Aus-trahan Command.
Here we learned also the fate of several European partieswho had attempted to escape into interior Borneo, as I hadone time planned to do, before the Japanese invaded Borneo.
Shortly before the Japanese military forces landed at Mm,North Borneo, a party of European men, women, and chil-dren, missionaries and families of government men, decidedto retreat from there to Long Nawang. Long Nawang wasan abandoned Dutch military outpost in southern Dutch Bor-neo, about six weeks’ river travel inland from Miri.
After the Japanese invaded Borneo no news was heard ofthis party for a year. Then rumor of the presence of escapeesat Long Nawang was brought to the Japanese, who went upthe river, shelled and captured the Dutch fort. The Japanesethen shot the men who survived the battle, and took prisonerthe women and children. After holding them for two monthsas prisoners, the Japanese killed the children before theirmothers, then tortured the women to death.
The husband of one victim, and father of two others killedin that party, had remained at his government post to meetthe invading Japanese. He was taken prisoner when they
landed at Mixi, and confined with my husband in Kuchingthroughout the war. He survived.
Most escape stories demonstrate the fact that the Japanesewere angered by the idea of people running away from them.
Here at Labuan I learned the end, or perhaps the begin-ning, of the story of Ceha and Jim Taylor. Celia, who inspite of ill-health was one of the bravest, least selfish, andmost hard-working of our community workers, had alwaystold me that she believed steadfastly that she would find herhusband alive at the end of the war. And hers was one of thefew stories to have a happy ending.
Without having heard any news of Dr. Taylor since peacecame, I came at Labuan upon these two walking together,alive and hopeful. Together they told me his story.
After leaving Kuching he had been taken to Singapore andthere imprisoned in Changi Jail. He was ill and weak fromabuse and starvation, and in this condition he had just man-aged to survive, until the Allied Forces came into Singaporeand freed him, after peace came. Gerald Mavor, from San-dakan, who had been imprisoned with him on the same charge,had died of mistreatment. Gerald’s wife was now in Labuanalso.
Dr. Taylor told us that upon his release he had tried toascertain the fate of his wife, but could get no news of her,as the search for lost persons was an almost hopeless one. Ashe had no news of her, and was ill himself, he decided to re-turn to his home in Australia, and await news there. As a firstmove towards home, he flew from Singapore to Labuan, thereto await a plane for Australia. Here, at oxir rest camp inLabuan, he came upon his wife, who was also waiting forpassage to Australia, and they had met by accident just be-fore I found them.
I saw before me two middle-aged people with worn,strained faces and hardened hands, dressed unbecomingly inRed Cross clothes which didn’t fit, two people who had lost
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health and youth as well as everything material in this war.Dr. Taylor was very lame from the effects of malnutrition,and Celia was thin and tired.
But I looked in their faces and I saw there something thatheld me more than beauty would have. I saw what one seldomsees in the sleek, well-fed-and-cared-for faces, the weE-ad-justed expressions, of middle-aged people at home; I saw theemotion of love. Seeing them thus reassured me. Hate isstrong and destructive, but love alone is nourishing; love alonecan survive.
Here in Kuching Shihping Cho and Betty Weber and BabsHiQ were searching for news of their husbands, who had beentaken from Kuching prison camp a year before. Here alsoAlison Stookes was on the same mission about her brother.^
We spent five days in Labuan. Our camp was located atone end of Labuan Island, and Port Victoria, the AmericanNaval Headquarters, was at the other. The approach to ourcamp was via the beach at low tide, and there was no ap-proach at high tide.
The children were frantically happy. They rode up anddown the beach with the soldiers, in jeeps and motor trucksall day long, they went to sea to bathe in DUKWs, and theysaw as litde of their mamas as possible. In short, they joinedthe 9th Australian Army Division.
But the adtilts —the coconut palms swayed over us, theSouth China Sea played at our feet, the tropical sun, moon,
^ On the North American continent now, I have received a letter fromShihping Cho which tells me that her husband was beheaded in Borneofive weeks before the armistice. She is living now in Nanlmg, China, andfinds difficulty in getting the proper food, drags, and living conditionsfor Edith and Eddie, who are both unwell as a resnlt of their years ofimprisonment.
Betty Weber has written to tell me that her husband was also beheadedin Borneo just before the armistice.
Dr. Val Stookes was beheaded.
Le Gros Clarke was beheaded.
Babs Hill’s husband is dead, either beheaded, or dead of dyi^tory, weare not sore which. Young Abbott died of d'^sentery.
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and stars did their best for us, but the lure of the tropics wasdead. We just wanted to go home.
While waiting transport home I agreed to make a broad-cast to Australia telling of the liberation by their forces. Justat the end of my broadcast, two United States sailors in dun-garees appeared at the tent door, and handed me a letter. Theletter said that if Harry, George, and I would be in PortVictoria, Labuan, at 11.30 this day, we would be placed onboard a U. S. Navy PBY-25, and headed for the U.S.A. Theplane would be held as late as noon.
Harry, George, and I had been, as always, an InternationalProblem. Harry was a British subject, and I was an Americancitizen; his legitimate channel for help was British, mineAmerican. His legitimate destination was England via Aus-tralia, mine was the United States. But despite divergence ofmeans, our one aim was to arrive as quickly as possible at theNorth American continent, where we had what we wantedmost in this world: a home, a family, and a chance to bealone together.
It will sound unbelievable, to those who have not hadour experience, that we were not rejoicing throughout everymoment, after release from captivity. But physically, men-tally, emotionally, there was nothing left in us with whichto rejoice.
For three and a half years we had lived with war and hate,and the conditions produced by them, and we had been nearlydestroyed. We had come to believe that if we could get backquickly to our love and affection for each other, to our lifetogether, then we might become again a part of life, instead ofdeath. If we didn’t, then that for which we had survived wasin vain.
It was 11.30 when I read the good news that we were toleave for the United States in half an hour.
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see them smoking, eating chocolate bars, lying leisurely atthe water’s edge, laughing and joking. Already there is a re-markable difference in their appearance. After years of un-dernourishment, a few weeks or even days of concentratedfoodstuffs put on flesh more quickly than is normal.
We pass working parties of Australian soldiers; all are smil-ing and cheery. There is a distinct type of AustraUan physi-ognomy. They are tall, lean, long-boned; their faces arestrong-featured, with rectangular jaws, thin, straight noses.Their eyes are wide-spaced, as if they had spent their timelooking into pleasant places, rather than squinting throughkeyholes.
All these men smile and wave at George, who is perchedon top of the DUKW. George has met thousands of soldiersin the five days since he has been freed from prison, and isclose friends with all of them. It isn’t G
eorge each soldiersees, when he looks at this small boy; it is his own httle sonor brother.
After twenty minutes in the DUKW, we arrive at the placewhere the motor road from town ends in the water. Herewe find the sailor’s abandoned jeep, and shift hastily into it.Meanwhile the time is ten minutes after twelve. The planewas due to leave ten minutes ago.
We stop and telephone Navy H.Q, The man at the otherend of the telephone tells us that the Catalina has just beenreleased. No, wait, she is still at anchor! They will hold herfor us until 12.30.
“We must get there,” I beg Number One sailor.
“We’ll make it,” he promises. The Navy is as determinedby now as we are, to get us on board that plane.
We race down the road. The jeep has no springs, the roadno paving, our behinds no padding, our luggage no locks.The two young sailors sit in front with their long legsdoubled up, their angular chins resting on their knees, chew-ing gum incessantly. George, inserted securely between them,
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also chews gum incessantly. Harry and I bounce around inthe back seat, pursuing and retrieving pieces of luggage whichtry to leave us. Through Victoria we race, past a few indig-nant M.P.S. “We’re not stopping for those guysl” says Num-ber One.
We arrive at Navy H.Q. Here the young naval lieutenantwho is responsible for arranging our trip is waiting anxiously.He jumps on the running board, and directs us to the landingfloat. Here we say good-bye to our sailors, and board a Navylaunch.
From this day forward I am unalterably prejudiced in fa-vor of the U. S. Navy. Our air passage out of Borneo wasex officio and without benefit of rule, but I think it was mostsurely in keeping with the best tradition of our Navy toanswer an S.O.S. We were three human beings greatly inneed of help, and the Navy answered our call.
In the midst of mutual benedictions, between the Navy andourselves, we arrive beneath the wings of the most beautifulamphibian that I have ever seen.
With little effort on our part we find ourselves standing ontop of the Catalina, bound for Manila. We call back good-bye to our naval friends. Then we are gently lowered into alarge dark hole, which proves to be coimected with the busi-ness part of this amphibian, and in due time, after progressinglike worms through wormholes, we arrive in a luxuriouscabin, with deep upholstered overstuffed seats. For the firsttime in three and a half years our behinds rest in luxury again.
There are bunks overhead, into which the handsome youngmen attempt to dispose George, who is now half-asleep fromexhaustion. “Poor little fellow, he’s worn out!” But not untilhe is quite unconscious is Poor Little Fellow disposable over-head. Meanwhile he chews more and more gum.
Now the plane leaves the water, and rises in the dr, andwe look down for the last time on Borneo. The water belowus remains blue, jewel-like, vivid to my last glimpse, and the
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coast with its green tropical islands is like a miniature aqua-rium scene. Seen from the air it is again the Borneo that I firstloved, eleven years ago — the land of romance and adventure.In that Borneo I have lost my home, my worldly belong-ings, my youth, my strength, and my unborn child.
Can I ever bear to go back again, I ask myself.
The final answer may only be told with time. But a chillof cold physical nausea went through me then.
One of the tall handsome Navy lads leans sympatheticallyover me. “If you feel ill, why don’t you let me put you inthe berth up there? I guess you’re glad to get out of this place,all right!”
“Yes-I am!”
But another handsome angel appears with his hands full ofsomething very savory-smelling, wrapped up in paper nap-kins. “Say lady, what you need is food! How would you likesome good old American hot dogs with mustard on ’em? Andsome American coffee, and American cigarettes?”
Even Harry arouses to this.
“How do you think we’d like ’em?”
Hurrah for the U. S. Navy!
In Manila we boarded an Army Transport headed for theUnited States. It should have been the happiest moment ofour lives. But we were poor subjects for freedom; slavery-had unfitted us.
Starvation and illness were with us still. Although I wasgaining weight rapidly, my flesh was numb from lack of cir-culation. My skin broke and bled at any knock, and no soreswould heal. My fingers were infected at the base of the nailsand had been discharging for months, to such an extent thatI now had dilEculty in picking things up. My sight was af-fected by malnutrition. I could not read through a page ofprint, nor focus my eyes to watch the cinemas which wereshown every night. Harry suffered from the same troubles,and was also running a temperature from malaria. In additionto losing all our material possessions in Borneo, we had losthealth, and the good years of Hfe. Could we ever come back?We didn’t think that we could.
There were fifteen hundred passengers on board, liberatedAmerican POWs, GIs, officers and wives, several Chinesefamilies, the Filipina wives of United States military personnelwho were taking the last chance of free transportation to theUnited States, where citizenship by marriage would nowadmit them, an American Negro GI with his handsome wifeand children, a number of Franciscan nuns, and about a hun-
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dred civilians like myself who had just been liberated fromJapanese prison camps.
The women, children, and officers slept in overcrowdedcabins, or in bunks on deck. Fourteen hundred men slept be-tween decks and on the promenade deck. Women, children,and officers fed in the dining saloon; the fourteen hundredstood in line on the troop deck for food, where they waitedseveral hours for each meal.
There were some thirty-five children on board, most ofwhom had spent their childhood in prison camps; they wereunused to plumbing, chairs and tables, European food servedon plates in a dining room, knives, forks, and spoons to eatwith. To fight for existence was their training, liberty andsufficiency were new to them. The mothers were like myself,sick and tired, nervous and apprehensive, without clothingand comforts, tired to death of the struggle.
I acted as commissariat for the Keith family. Harry was insick bay part of the time, and when he got out he was tooweak to stand in line on deck and collect his food. George,who was unused to either food or eating utensils, lost his ap-petite, and found meals with me in the dining saloon a strain,which was nothing compared to what I found them with him.
Usually I ate alone, as quickly and lightly as possible, col-lected the remnants, and carried them above decks to my fam-ily. If I missed a meal, we all went hungry. In my feedingsystem I was aided by the stewards, who picked me up whenI slid downstairs with the tray, dusted off the cream puffs,and started me upstairs again. I soon ordered dry meals, whichcould be brushed off and swept up easily.
The one thing that worked on the transport was thehot-air system, which functioned continuously. All orderswere broadcast over the loud-speaker Public Address, knownas the Public Abuse system. Announcements ranged in sub-ject matter from vomit to virginity. The style varied, somebeing worded like pep talks to public-school boys, others
being the tight-lipped warnings of prison warders to life-sentence prisoners. But they all had one thing in common:they were addressed from a superior being to greatly inferiorones. The Japs had told us that we were a fourth-class na-tion; we were addressed now as members of the animal king-dom. After hstening to what the GIs had to swallow I thoughtbetter of the enemy.
The first Public Address message in the lounge before sail-ing was inspired by the fact that Harry and other husbandshad complained at being told that they would not be allowedinto first-class quarters at any time during the voyage, tosee their wives or children. The following message was tiienaddressed to women and children and a few officers;
“If you don’t like your quarters on the ship, get ofi. Idon’t know what you are accustomed to, but you’re in thearmy now. You are all under military discipline, and if youdon’t behave I’U put you in the brig on bread and water forseven days.
�
��The husbands of most of you women are quartered belowon the troop decks. If you have children your husbands willbe allowed to enter first-class quarters for a short time dailyto help care for the children. If they don’t take care of thechildren, and just play around with you girls, they will notbe allowed up.
“You are not out of danger yet. Carry your life belts at aUtimes. These waters are full of mines. Are there any qu^tions.5”
Old Lady: “About those mines! Is it really dangerous?”
“Don’t you worry! We haven’t had any accidents yet, andwe are very clever at navigating this ship.”
Ten minutes later, while weighing anchor, the ship backedinto a stationary barge, and had to remain at anchor twenty-four hours for examination and repairs. While waiting atanchor we saw in the distance the blazing hulk of the shipahead of us, which had just run into a mine.
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Next day P.A. resumed over the loud-speaker: “I am notsatisfied with the conduct of parents and children. Childrenmust not come in the lounges. Fathers will not be allowed upfrom the troop deck unless they spend more time on deckwith the children, and less in the lounge on romance.”
Next day: “It has been rough lately and some of you havebeen seasick. If you must be sick do it in the proper place. Ifyou vomit on the deck or the lounge you will have to cleanit up yourself.
“Young ladies who sleep in the deck dormitory must bein their beds, their own beds, by midnight.”
Next day: “The children are too noisy. If their conductdoes not improve I shall turn the children and mothers out oftheir cabins, and assign them to bunks on deck.”
Next day: “The children have been fighting. If this con-tinues I shall put all the children in the brig, and feed themthrough the grating, and turn them all over to the policeupon landing, and fine aU their mothers.”
I almost hoped that this would happen; I thought it wouldbe the best news story of the war, if the children who hadbeen imprisoned and starved throughout three and a half yearsin enemy camps returned to their native land confined inthe brig of a United States transport, fed on bread and water.
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