As Julian’s eyes again swept the seventeen square miles of blue water that formed the almost land-locked harbour, they came to rest on Stonecutter’s Island. It lay close to and on the west side of the Kowloon peninsula. On a Christmas night twenty-two years earlier he had taken his life in his hands and, fully clothed, swum the two miles out to it. Even when, utterly exhausted, he had floundered ashore, and for many hours afterwards, he had still been in deadly peril; for the whole area was swarming with Japanese. At 3.15 that afternoon Hong Kong had surrendered, but the bestial Japs were still butchering any stray British soldiers they came upon, and only the fact that Julian knew a few sentences of Japanese had later saved him.
That he knew any Japanese at all was due to the extraordinary flair of the Service departments for posting square pegs in round holes. Julian had joined up in Cairo early in the war. As he could speak most of the Mediterranean languages, including Arabic, Russell Pasha had, with his usual good sense, secured him a commission in the Interpreter Corps. In that capacity he had fought with the New Zealanders during General Wavell’s brilliant campaign in Libya and later in the disastrous expedition to Greece. After the evacuation of what remained of the British force to Egypt he had been seconded to Intelligence and for some weeks employed in Cairo translating Arabic documents. Then it had been decided to increase the Headquarters Staff in Singapore; upon which, although Julian knew nothing about the Far East or any of its languages, some dunderhead had had him posted there as an extra Intelligence Officer.
As he had a flair for languages, after some months of tuition he picked up enough Japanese and Chinese to get the general sense of printed or typed documents, but no-one pressed him to exert himself. The convinced opinion of the General Staff was that the Japanese had no intention of entering the war against Britain. It was said that they still had plenty on their plate in China and that they would be fools to imperil the seaborne trade out of which they were making so much money. For a young subaltern Singapore offered many delightful distractions; so, with an untroubled conscience, Julian had spent a minimum of time in his office and had happily given himself up to the joys of tennis, bathing, cocktail parties and good dinners with pretty girls.
But this pleasant existence was not destined to last. In September 1941 the energetic Major-General Christopher Maltby was nominated to succeed General Grassett as G.O.C. British Troops in Hong Kong; and with him, as one of his Staff Officers, he took Julian.
On arriving there they found the same state of complacency as had existed in Singapore, and Julian discovered that the island in the China Seas offered a personable bachelor who had ample private means even more distractions; so for some weeks, although his new Chief worked him considerably harder, his leisure was most happily filled by participating in the peacetime activities of the Colony.
Nevertheless, he was aware that his General and the Governor, Sir Mark Young, also newly appointed, were extremely worried men. Neither of them concealed from his Staff the anxiety he felt about the poor state in which he found Hong Kong’s defences.
The mobile military garrison consisted of only four battalions: the 2nd Royal Scots, the 1st Middlesex, the 5/7th Rajputs and the 2/4th Punjabis, and all were under strength owing to the prevalence of malaria and venereal disease. At the last moment they were reinforced by two Canadian battalions: the Winnipeg Grenadiers and the Royal Rifles of Canada; but these troops, gallant as many of them proved when they found themselves with their backs to the wall, were raw, ill-disciplined and quite unfitted to be put into a line of battle before they had had several months’ intensive training. To these could be added seven companies of the Hong Kong Volunteer Defence Corps, many of whom were middle-aged and, again, were unsuited to being thrown into a battle. With this force, totalling some six thousand men, half of whom could not be deployed, Maltby was expected to hold a line on the mainland laid down by some past military pundit that extended for ten and a half miles against—as it later transpired—thirty thousand battle-hardened Japanese.
The prospect of having to defend the island would not have appeared quite so grim if Maltby had had adequate sea and air forces to support his troops on the mainland and, when they were forced to withdraw, to prevent the island being invaded. But the Navy could muster only two old destroyers and six motor torpedo boats, while the pitiful air force consisted of four Vickers Wildebeeste torpedo bombers and three Walrus amphibians, none of which had a maximum speed of more than one hundred miles per hour.
Still more perturbing, the garrison’s munitions had been most scandalously allowed to run down. Shells for the gunners would have to be so strictly rationed that it would be impossible for them to put up barrages lasting for more than a few minutes; ammunition for the mortars was so limited that the whole lot would be blazed off in a single day’s intensive fighting; effective training had to be curtailed because little small-arms ammunition could be spared for it; the supply of drugs and other hospital requirements was hopelessly inadequate and the four torpedo bombers had not a single torpedo.
Yet in the winter sunshine the social life of the Colony continued unabated. There were dances at the Peninsula Hotel, water picnics in Gindrinkers Bay, golf tournaments on the fine course in the south of the island, and every Saturday the race course in Happy Valley was thronged with huge crowds that afterwards dispersed to form hundreds of jolly parties in private houses.
It was not until Sunday December the 7th that Maltby knew definitely that his testing time could not now be long delayed. He was attending a Church Parade that had all the glamour of a peacetime military ceremony. He had just finished reading the first Lesson when an officer came in to whisper to him the disquieting news that the Punjabis had reported a threatening concentration of Japanese troops to be massing on their front north of Fan Ling. The General and his senior officers quietly slipped away and back to his Headquarters. But there was little that he could do. The Royal Scots, the Rajputs and the Punjabis were already thinly spread out along the preordained front line. The Middlesex and the Canadians were held in reserve on the island. All units were alerted and the Hong Kong Volunteer Defence Corps swiftly mobilised to take up their war stations.
It was at ten to five on the following morning that Julian was roused from the deep healthy sleep of the young by his Chief, Major Charles Boxer, the senior Intelligence Officer on the General’s staff. Boxer had been sitting up all night listening to the broadcast from Tokyo. At 4.45 an announcer who had been giving particulars of the programme for the coming evening was suddenly replaced by another, who had harshly declared that Japan was now at war with Britain and the United States of America.
From that moment there were no more picnics or parties for Julian. Life became grim and somewhat more than earnest. By five past eight a squadron of Japanese dive bombers had utterly obliterated Kai Tak Airport and soon afterwards the skill in evasive manoeuvres of gallant, one-armed Lieutenant-Commander John Boldero was being exerted to the utmost to keep his old destroyer, H.M.S. Cicala, from being sunk.
For close on forty-eight hours the line on the mainland held. The Punjabis and the Rajputs, with absolute faith in their British officers, behaved magnificently, carrying out every order without a moment’s hesitation and inflicting terrific casualties on the enemy. But the Royal Scots, made flabby from too many months of indolence, too much cheap liquor and too many willing Chinese women, failed to show the fighting qualities that are the proud tradition of that famous regiment. On the night of the 9th/10th they allowed themselves to be surprised and driven from the strong Shingmun Redoubt, the holding of which was vital to the retention of the line. They fell back on Golden Hill, but were so demoralised that they also failed to hold that position. By midday on the 11th General Maltby realised that he was left with no alternative than to withdraw all Imperial Forces from the mainland.
The night was moonless and, in the Stygian darkness, conditions at the Kowloon ferry were chaotic. For four days without sleep the three battalions had been
pitted against two divisions of fanatical Japanese, yet they had inflicted infinitely more casualties than they had sustained. Lost, punch-drunk and bewildered, the greater part of them somehow found their way to the waterfront. Somehow the handful of naval officers organised a miniature Dunkirk and got them away to the island.
By the 13th the Japanese had brought up their heavy guns and had begun the bombardment of Hong Kong Island. Even up to a few days before the outbreak of this new war there had been scores of Japanese agents in the city, working as barbers, waiters and electricians. Extraordinary to record, for the past year a Colonel Suzki of the Japanese Intelligence had been permitted to reside there on the excuse that he was learning English, and it was not until the end of November that he had blandly taken leave of the many trusting residents who had entertained him. In consequence the Japanese had registered the exact position of every fort and strong point, which led to the shelling, and the bombing by their aircraft, proving terrifyingly effective.
At 9.15 on the evening of the 15th the enemy sought to probe the strength of the island’s defences by sending across two companies of infantry. The operation was suicidal. Caught in the glare of the searchlights the small invading force was completely annihilated while still in the water. As the attempt was made on a sector of the shore held by the Canadians, it was a heartening experience for these raw troops to defeat it utterly. But the success proved a most misleading curtain raiser.
On the 17th the Japanese Commander, General Ito Takeo, sent across, under a flag of truce, a peace mission. As Governor and Commander-in-Chief, Sir Mark Young replied that he declined absolutely to enter into any negotiations for surrender and that he was not prepared to receive any further communications on the subject. That afternoon the bombardment was renewed with greater intensity; but on the morning of the 18th the Japanese guns fell ominously silent. With tensed nerves everyone knew then that they would shortly be called on to face an all-out attack by the enemy.
General Takeo had used only two of his divisions in the fighting on the mainland. He had kept the third in reserve for an assault on Hong Kong. At 10 p.m. on the 18th its three regiments—the 228th, commanded by Colonel Doi, the 229th by Colonel Tanaka and the 230th by Colonel Shoji—made their landings between North Point and Lyemun. To add to the difficulties of the defence the night was very dark, it was raining and a strong wind was blowing; so that dense clouds of smoke from the oil tanks at North Point, which Japanese shells had set alight, rendered visibility near zero along the greater part of the north coast. The result was that several units received no warning that the enemy had landed, and were taken by surprise.
That was the case with the 5th Anti-Aircraft Battery of the Hong Kong Volunteers. The twenty-nine men occupying Lyemun Fort found themselves surrounded by a horde of Japanese before they were even aware that the enemy had got ashore. What followed remains as an indelible record of shame on the Japanese Army. Hopelessly outnumbered, the Hong Kong Volunteers saw no option but to accept from the Japanese Commander the promise of their lives if they surrendered. Told to lay down their arms and come outside with their hands up, they did as they were ordered—to receive in turn a bayonet in the stomach from the hilariously laughing Japanese soldiers, while their officer stood there showing his teeth in a delighted grin. But that was only a foretaste of what was in store for the garrison of Hong Kong.
At 7 a.m. on the 19th the medical orderlies at the Salesian Mission, which had been turned into an advance dressing station, were about to have their breakfast when a company of Japanese suddenly appeared on the scene. The post was flying the Red Cross and, as it was a non-combatant unit, the senior doctor naturally offered no opposition. On his surrender the orderlies, cooks and ambulance drivers were ordered out of the building, made to strip to their undergarments, then lined up some way off with their backs to their captors. A Japanese officer gave an order; screaming Banzis, his men surged forward at the charge and bayoneted every one of the prisoners in the base of the spine.
D Company of the 5/7th Rajputs, although outnumbered ten to one, put up a splendid stand until their gallant Commander, Captain Bob Newton, was killed and the survivors, thirty mostly wounded men, realised that their position was hopeless. With ferocious glee the Japanese butchered the lot.
In scores of desperate engagements no wounded were taken prisoner but were bayoneted where they lay; and such prisoners as were taken were trussed like turkeys, with their wrists and ankles tight together in the small of their backs. With their spines arched to near breaking point they were left to lie in agony for hours on end. Then, when they were at last untied and marched to a cage, every one of them was beaten about the body or head with rifle butts. Several lost the sight of an eye and many of them had their teeth smashed in.
So it went on for five ghastly days. Post after post was surrounded and overwhelmed by swarms of Japanese. Yet never have Imperial troops fought with greater tenacity and been more deserving of imperishable glory. The Royal Scots, determined to atone for their precipitate retreat on the mainland, displayed stubborn courage equalling that of their predecessors, the ‘Old Contemptibles’ at Mons. The ever-cheerful Cockneys of the Middlesex made the enemy pay a terrible price for every foot of ground he gained. The Indian troops, born fighting men and trained to the last degree of perfection, showed incredible bravery, in many cases holding their positions for many hours after their officers had been killed. The Canadians, raw troops though they were, showed the same mettle as had their fathers at Vimy Ridge, while the Hong Kong Volunteers performed feats of valour that are still a legend on the island. Both the Portuguese and Eurasian companies held their positions to the end, and a platoon of British veterans repelled continuous assaults on the Power House for over two days. Most of them were in their sixties and some over seventy, yet when they were at last driven from the Power House the survivors continued their battle from an overturned bus without hope of relief. But it was all of no avail.
By the third night after the landing fighting was taking place in every bay along the coast, the Japanese had driven the defenders from several of the island’s crests and communications between Headquarters and a number of major units had been cut. The battle thereby having become chaotic and unmanageable, there was little of any value that a junior Intelligence Officer could do; so Julian asked his General’s permission to go out and fight, and it was readily granted.
Not knowing when he would have a chance even to lie down again, he had the good sense to get a last night’s good sleep in the fortress; then early on the morning of the 22nd he went down into the city. The bombing and shelling had led to its becoming a scene of indescribable confusion, but down at the docks he found a young Captain who had already been wounded collecting together a miscellaneous body of men. There were half a dozen sailors from the Cicala which, with four out of six of the motor torpedo boats, had been sunk, and some Canadian stragglers; the rest were not soldiers in the true sense but details from the Base Ordnance Corps and the R.A.S.C., clerks, cooks and storekeepers. Many of them had never before handled a rifle, but they were all game to fight. Julian joined them and they set off past Happy Valley up into the hills.
That afternoon they had their first engagement with the Japanese. For thirty-eight hours, though gradually dwindling in numbers, they managed to hold their position against a series of attacks; but at dawn on the twenty-fourth they were forced to withdraw from it in disorder. Julian got away with six men down a steep gully; but for the twenty-four hours that followed he felt himself to be living through a nightmare. In whichever direction the little party made its way they found themselves heading towards parties of Japs.
During the day they engaged in a dozen skirmishes and each time had to beat another retreat. Two of the party were killed, another was shot through the wrist and Julian had a wound in his left forearm. By nightfall they had run out of ammunition, were hungry, thirsty, looking like scarecrows and almost asleep on their feet.
Their first pos
ition had been on Mount Cameron; but the series of zigzags they had made during the day had brought them round on to the lower slopes of Mount Butler, not far from the eastern suburbs of the city, and Julian decided that their best hope now lay in getting down to it. But shortly afterwards they came upon a cave and they were all so weary that he thought it best that they should first rest there for a few hours.
At midnight, limping and stumbling in the dark, they set off along a narrow track that led downwards. Ten minutes later, at a junction of the track, they ran head-on into a Japanese patrol. The nearest man jabbed at Julian with his bayonet. He side-stepped and clubbed the man in the face with his pistol. As he jumped back he heard the Canadian who had been following him shout:
‘We’ve no ammunition left! We surrender!’ But the Japanese ignored his cry and several of them dashed past Julian. Next moment he heard the screams of his companions as sharp cold steel was plunged into their bodies.
Realising that if he remained where he was his life was not worth a moment’s purchase, he took a pace forward and threw himself over the cliff. Although steep, it was not sheer and was covered with coarse grass. He bounced twice, rolled over and over for a hundred feet and came to rest caught up by a good-sized bush.
For a while he lay there half stunned; then he pulled himself together, wriggled free of the bush and, sitting on the steep slope with his head in his hands, tried to think what was now the best thing to do. If he continued his progress while it was still dark he might go over a real precipice or, perhaps, run into another patrol of Japs. Deciding that he would stand a better chance of getting down to the city in safety if he postponed his attempt until it was light, he fell into an uneasy doze.
When dawn came he roused himself and, lying on his stomach, scrambled his way down the lower part of the slope to the cover of a group of small houses. His wound was not serious but, fearing that if he did not get it dressed it might become gangrenous, he was anxious to have it attended to. There were no Japanese to be seen, so it did not look as though they had yet penetrated the city. His strength renewed by his hours of rest in the cave and on the slope, he set off through the streets, already filled with scared and bewildered Chinese, towards St. Stephen’s Hospital. By half past six he was within five hundred yards of it. Suddenly he noticed that the streets were no longer teeming with frightened crowds but almost deserted. As he halted in his tracks a Corporal of the Middlesex with a bloody handkerchief round his head stepped out from a nearby doorway and asked in a husky voice:
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