Descent into Hell: The fall of Singapore - Pudu and Changi - the Thai Burma railway
Page 66
When a malaria attack was followed by dysentery, procedures against it varied from force to force. A relatively common approach was employed by Richards:
. . . what we did . . . we had light duty blokes grinding up charcoal, with a bottle, they’d use it as a rolling pin. It gave them something to do, they felt as though they were doing something useful. And you gave it [table spoons of charcoal] to the blokes, on the basis that charcoal absorbs gases. It goes into gas masks, and it absorbs many times its volume of gas. [Did it work?] I doubt it. But the blokes felt as though something was being done for them, and they would believe that . . . something was being done for them . . . achieving is ninety per cent believing!78
Elsewhere RMOs would employ Epsom salts to literally flush the system—already being ‘flushed’ by the dysentery condition—or, when available, Condy’s crystals might be wrapped in rice paper and swallowed. But there was simply no decent substitute for drugs such as emetine hydrochloride and/or M & B 693, and they were priceless and virtually impossible to procure in Burma.
In combating beriberi and the multitude of other vitamin deficiency diseases on the Railway, the main weapon was the infrequent ability to supplement the men’s diet. Such rare purchases sometimes delayed the ‘cycle’. Sometimes this was done by a local or individual purchase of fruit or vegetables after receiving pay, but the limitations of the availability of canteen supplies, the individual’s financial status and the sheer volume of goods needed were very prohibitive. We have noted the attempts by Brigadier Varley, Lieutenant-Colonel Ramsay and Lieutenant-Colonel Albert Coates to procure small quantities of meat and fruit and vegetables. We have also noted that the efficiency and volume of such purchases on a force level were inhibited by the rorting and pilfering conducted by local Japanese guards and the disgusting behaviour of Colonel Nagatomo ‘raking fees or percentages’ before the goods ever arrived.
The first three parts of the cycle—malaria, dysentery and beriberi—were terribly difficult to combat, but RMOs and their orderlies and sometimes camp officers were able to have an influence over who was sent to work and who desperately needed some respite. Captain Rowley Richards:
I realised that we were playing God every day, all the time. ‘You go to work; you can stay in today.’ Playing with people’s lives. At the time it did not worry me at all. I was merely doing what I saw to be my job—my duty as I saw it. Remembering that on a sick parade I’d probably spend all of fifteen seconds talking to one bloke. And you had to make instant decisions. We had these nominal rolls where we had a record of every bloke, what sickness he had, and how many days no duty . . . that was there in front of us all the time.79
Coates’s words to Richards that ‘you have learnt something that very few doctors ever learn, and that is to know when a man is sick!’ become clear when the above quote is considered. The rolls were relatively detailed given the circumstances: ‘Duty’, ‘Light duty’, ‘No duty’, ‘Hospital’. It was during the nights that Richards and his orderlies—and usually Major Kerr—would examine the notes and assign men who had been working between seven and ten continuous days a day off. Richards would record that ‘it was not a matter of determining if a man was unfit or fit, but rather evaluating the relative unfitness of one man against another’.80 Whilst the dreaded ‘killer cycle’ always continued to reap its tragic harvest, the initiative, devotion to duty and cunning improvisation of the battalion RMOs and their overworked orderlies produced remarkable results and saved a multitude of lives.
Brigadier Varley’s command of ‘A’ Force in Burma poses a number of fascinating questions. In the Australian Official History, Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Anderson, VC would be quoted as saying:
During the whole of this tragic period of misery and suffering, Brig Varley’s strong personality, his vigorous and fearless championship of the troops, careless of rebuffs and determined to leave no stone unturned for the better treatment of the men, won him the respect of the Japanese and I have no hesitation in saying was probably instrumental in preventing a far greater tragedy than that which took place.81
Further, the Official Historian identifies Varley’s style of leadership as ‘keeping the maximum number of people at work’ while also stating that ‘the best results seem to have been achieved by officers who deferred to the Japanese authority on minor matters, and concentrated on taking a definite stand on vital matters affecting the men’s lives and health’.82 Perhaps Captain Rowley Richards bests sums up this precarious situation:
Williams and Kerr and I would argue with the Japs until decision time came. Do I feel I have reached the limit of a relatively peaceful outcome and a minimum of harm to the men, or do I run the risk of a disastrous outcome with no gain—plus a severe beating . . . for myself and the sick men? In fact there was usually no option. The exit strategy was to gain as much as possible before the Jap went berserk. Not always easy with unpredictable Japs and sometimes a bad outcome if we misjudged—as I did on one occasion! John Williams was stood bare-headed outside the guard house for 24 hours.83
Varley’s stance on ‘keeping the maximum number of people at work’ is an interesting one. In most forces, commanders had the exact opposite aim. Varley’s diary has registered his belief that by maximum work numbers, a corresponding maximum pay was received, which in turn meant extra food purchases for hospital patients, and to a lesser degree, the force at large. The theory had its merits, but brings into question the consequences for the men and the impact of the ‘killer cycle’ we have discussed. The next issue is the fate of the pay purchases. We have observed that force money brought from Changi—and not mentioned by the Official Historian with regards to ‘A’ Force or indeed with any other force—facilitated purchases of food. The unique problem that faced Varley was transporting those vital food supplements to his increasingly dispersed force. There was no River Kwai, no decent road (but merely a small oxcart track), and most of all, there had been a sharp escalation of prices for those stores at the purchasing points. And then there was Nagamoto’s cut and persistent pilfering to contend with. Varley, therefore, worked under a rigid, difficult and corrupt system.
The Official Historian’s argument that the best way of dealing with the Japanese was to defer to them on ‘minor matters’ but to make a ‘definite stand on vital matters affecting the men’s lives and health’ is noteworthy. We have discussed Varley and Ramsay’s voluminous verbal and written protests. The point is, surely, that such protests had little positive impact on those ‘vital matters’.
In his book, A Doctor’s War, Rowley Richards noticed the same style of command in Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Anderson. Anderson, Richards observed, ‘questioned the seriousness of the medical condition of our [Anderson Force] troops, particularly in regard to pellagra, a disease he failed to understand,’ and believed ‘that it was better not [to] antagonise’ the Japanese. In contrast, Richards noted that Lieutenant-Colonel Williams ‘chose to deal with our keepers head on’.84 Obviously personal courage was not an issue—we have noted Anderson’s brilliant and brave performance at Bakri and his subsequent Victoria Cross. The point is that command in battle and command in a POW situation is an entirely different phenomenon. Varley and Ramsay and Anderson performed admirably on the Railway. The Official Historian has recorded that the ‘A’ Force death rate (13.06%) was the lowest of all forces.85 This must reflect positively on Varley and the medical officers and their orderlies. But a much more accurate assessment is possible in the light of a comparison with other forces in our story. We shall return to the fate of Brigadier Varley and his ‘A’ Force as our Railway story concludes.
Driver Joe Nimbs. (Courtesy J. Nimbs Jr)
Private Paddy O’Toole, 2/29th Battalion. (Courtesy 2/29th Battalion Association)
Lieutenant-Colonel Wilfred Kent Hughes. (Courtesy Mr Sasse)
Captain Alf Menz, 8th Division Provosts. (Courtesy Geoff Menz)
Private C. Edwards, 2/19th Battalion. (Courtesy C. Edwards)
Priv
ate Wal Williams, 2/19th Battalion. (Courtesy Wal Williams)
Lieutenant-Colonel Alfred Coates, A Force.
Major Bruce Hunt, F Force. (Courtesy 2/20th Association)
Captain R. Richards, A Force. (Courtesy Dr R. Richards)
Lieutenant-Colonel D. Kerr, A Force. (Courtesy Margaret Hooper)
Captain David Hinder, U Battalion. (Courtesy Charles Edwards)
Sergeant Frank Baker, U Battalion. (Courtesy 2/20th Association)
Captain Roy Mills. (Courtesy 2/29th Battalion Association)
Lieutenant Ron Eaton, F Force. (Courtesy Catherine Goodings)
A barge transporting stores and POWs on the River Kwai, Thailand. (AWM 128451)
Bridge building, Konkoita, Thailand. (AWM P00406.002)
The Wampo viaduct, Thailand. (AWM P00761.017)
Thanbyuzayat, Burma HQ A Force. (AWM 043269)
Captain Reg Newton, CO U Battalion. (Courtesy Reg Newton Jr)
Sergeant Jack de Loas, U Battalion. (Courtesy Patricia Fitzpatrick)
Sergeant Bert Donaldson, U Battalion. (Courtesy Andrew Donaldson)
Private ‘Shorty’ Cooper, U Battalion. (Courtesy 2/20th Battalion Association)
Bong Pong in his store in Kanchanaburi. (AWM P00779.002)
Gunso Aitaro Hiramatsu, the infamous ‘Tiger’. (Courtesy Charles Edwards)
An advanced tropical ulcer, Tarsau, Thailand. (AWM P00761.010)
Beriberi sufferer, Thailand. (AWM P01433.020)
The ‘main road’ journey from Thailand to Burma. (AWM 128452)
F Force suffers dysentery at a rail siding. (AWM Aspinall Collection)
F Force Songkurai: malnutrition and beriberi. (AWM Aspinall Collection)
Cholera Hill, Songkurai. (AWM Aspinall Collection)
Lieutenant-Colonel Pond, F Force. (Courtesy 2/29th Battalion Association)
Captain Adrian Curlewis, F Force. (Courtesy Philippa Poole)
Lieutenant- Colonels Kappe (left), Galleghan (centre) and Johnson (right) upon liberation. (AWM 117115)
28
‘U’ BATTALION
We have recorded the movement of ‘A’ Force from Changi to Burma in May 1942 and much of its subsequent fate. One month later, the Japanese transported some 3000 British POWs by train to Nong Pladuk to commence work on the southern, or Thailand end of the line. It will be recalled that in July 1942 ‘B’ Force was raised in Changi and subsequently sent to Borneo. On 16 August, Major Alan Thompson recorded the movement of the senior officers’ party—‘C’ Force—from Changi. It is a reminder of the magnitude of the capitulation six months earlier:
JAPAN PARTY. Departure of Japan Special Party ‘A’ 400 and Party ‘B’ 1000. Special Party included 6 Generals, 25 Brigadiers, 21 Colonels. AIF Special Party 13 Officers 9 O.R.s Party ‘B’ 6 Officers and 90 O.R.s1
And then on 28 November the last senior officers left Changi:
OVERSEAS PARTY. Remaining Senior Officers Lt-Gen Heath (3 Corps). Brig Maxwell and Capt MacDonald (Cipher Officer) left Singapore on Kamakura Muru [sic] for overseas. 550 Party from Singapore travelled on same ship. Warm clothing issued to those leaving.2
The reader will also recall the departure from Changi to Thailand—under controversial circumstances—of Lieutenant-Colonel ‘Weary’ Dunlop’s Force on 20 January 1943.
One of the great myths of the Railway is the notion that British POWs always lacked the standards of hygiene of the Australians; that their camps were poorly run in comparison; and that, as a consequence, their death rate was much higher. Such generalisations are misleading. While the British certainly did have a higher mortality rate, to arrive at a fair assessment one must take into account many variables: the nature of their camps and their commanders; the availability of black market food; their proximity to coolie camps; and the particular local conditions. Further, it should be recognised that some 14 000 British POWs were working on the Railway from November 1942 onwards, and exposed, therefore, to all of the rigours of labour and adversity in that severe environment, months before most of the Australians arrived. An example is the fate of the British POWs who had been with Captain Reg Newton in Pudu Prison. When Newton and his Australians were sent by train to Changi in September 1942, their British comrades were sent to Bampong to immediately begin work on the Railway. The British, therefore, journeyed straight from one environment of abject deprivation into another, while Newton’s men spent months on the docks at Keppel Harbour and in Changi, and therefore in some measure at least were able to recover physically from their Pudu experience. Further, however poor the Railway camps were, it was the British who frequently arrived along the line to first clear virgin land and then live under—by Railway standards—extremely poor conditions, as they constructed the first camps. We shall witness some very poor British camps and a number of ‘good’ ones—the same will apply to the Australians.
At Changi on 5 March 1943, Major Alan Thompson recorded that:
Warning order party of 5,000 to proceed up country A.I.F. allocation 2,500 including 25 officers. Only fit men capable of doing heavy manual work to be included in party. Men to be supplied from 22 Bde, L of C. [Line of Communication] RAA Bde [artillery], 27 Bde. probable date of departure 15 March 1943.3
Command of this new force, to be named ‘D’ Force, was assigned to Lieutenant-Colonel McEachern (4th Anti-tank Regiment) and was to consist of four battalions each of 555 men: ‘S’ Battalion (Major Gray Schneider, 2/10th Field Regiment); ‘T’ Battalion (Major John Quick, 4th Anti-tank Regiment); ‘U’ Battalion (Captain Reg Newton, 2/19th Battalion); and ‘V’ Battalion (Major Alf Cough, 2/4th M G Battalion). The force totalled 22 officers, 2161 ORs, seven doctors and 30 medical orderlies. Our ‘D’ Force case study will be Captain Reg Newton’s ‘U’ Battalion.
We have chronicled Newton’s time in Pudu Prison in Kuala Lumpur. When ‘D’ Force was raised, Newton drew heavily upon that experience. The selection of officers for his ‘U’ Battalion was his first astute decision. He was not interested in Lieutenant-Colonel ‘Black Jack’ Galleghan’s dictum that such command appointments came down only to one’s combat promotion standing. In a frank interview with Hank Nelson for his POW Prisoners of War, Australians Under Nippon, Newton stated that:
I selected officers who I knew could be rough and tough, and could handle the Nips, they had proven this in Singapore work parties. I did not select anybody who had been in Changi throughout because I knew they had not had Japanese experience. But above all they had to be of the rougher and tougher type who could handle themselves and handle troops. I was determined I would only take one officer per hundred; that still left back a number of younger ones who were very good lads . . . I was determined I would not have a superabundance of officers and then be at the beck and call of all the Nips for having too many drones around the place.4
The reader will recall our chapter 26 criticism levelled at Major Quick’s area on Singapore Island’s Havelock Road camp: ‘very dirty . . . and Quick’s lines were shocking, so that 250 other men were requested to clean up.’5 The notion that a commander who had failed dismally in leadership and hygiene considerations on a Singapore Island work party could be assigned a battalion command on the Railway where such standards could literally mean the difference between life and death demonstrates Changi command’s ineptitude in its selection of a number of Railway commanders. Quick’s ‘T’ Battalion was destined to have a much more miserable, tragic time on the Railway than many other battalions. On the other hand, during interviews and in correspondence with members of the 2/19th, 2/20th and the 8th Division Ammunition Sub Park, not one veteran offered anything but a fleeting criticism of ‘U’ Battalion’s officers on the Railway—quite the opposite. There was high praise for them and especially for Newton’s selection of his leaders; there were indeed to be ‘no drones around the place’.
Newton’s ‘U’ Battalion was essentially composed of 22nd Brigade personnel. The 2/19th contingent consisted of Captains Newton, Westbrook and Harris; Lieutenants Sande
rson and Weilly; the RSM WO 1 Sonny Loy; and 314 ORs. Captain Gaden, Lieutenant Ramsbotham and 198 ORs comprised the 2/20th portion, and with most of the 22nd Brigade’s 2/18th Battalion in a permanent work camp on Blakang Mati, only eight other ranks from that battalion were represented. To make up the required number, Newton received 40 members of the 8th Division Ammunition Sub Park under the command of WO 2 Sid Barber.
Newton was conscious of the need for absolute cohesion within his new formation. In this, he was challenged by a strong rivalry between the NSW 2/19th and 2/20th Battalions. Sergeant Frank Baker, 2/20th Battalion and ‘U’ Battalion:
. . . they used to fight in the streets and all sorts of things. When we first went over there . . . you avoided 19th blokes in groups that were around. And the same thing went the other way . . . it still exists today to a point, not nastily, but there’s still this ‘you and us’ sort of thing.6