by Peter Brune
I was messing in with two other blokes and I was the only one that possessed a wallet. As they got any money they’d give it to me and I was the banker . . . some bugger had got into my haversack during the night, and he’d taken me wallet and what money we had, and mum had given me a gold watch, stolen me watch, although it was worth big money, I was determined to get this watch home . . .104
Private John Boehm had his boots stolen, Stan Arneil and his mate had $15 (a significant sum) taken, and a never-ending market for boots, clothing and all manner of saleable items existed.
By the end of July 1943, the appalling conditions and meagre diet at Lower Songkurai; the difficulties in the transportation of supplies from Nieke along barely serviceable, boggy tracks to it; the terrible toll taken by the cholera outbreak; and the usual Railway deaths from dysentery, diarrhoea and beriberi—had all combined to reduce the number of men fit for work to 375 out of a total of 1854. A staggering 1265 were in hospital and 214 were engaged in camp duties. At Upper Songkurai just over half of its 430 Australian POWs were in ‘hospital’. The final Australian ‘F’ Force deaths up until the end of May 1943 were 1060 out of 3662.105 (Major Alan Thompson recorded that 3425 had left Changi.)
The British deaths numbered 2036 out of around 3500. Wigmore has recorded that the average British monthly death rate between May and December 1943 was over 360, and that ‘dysentery and diarrhoea had combined to kill 832 men, while 637 had died of cholera alone’.106 We have noted at the beginning of this chapter that the British, out of their quota of around 3500 Changi inmates for ‘F’ Force, sent about 1000 unfit men, whilst the Australians sent ‘not more than 125’. This surely explains in part why their death rate was so high. Wigmore adds another intriguing point:
The Japanese seemed determined to break the British troops and to discriminate between them and the Australians. No Englishmen was permitted to be employed in the cookhouse or on any other camp duty, so that all were available for working parties despite their age or physical condition.107
In general terms, therefore, the very high English death rate in ‘F’ Force is in part explained by the above two critical factors that did not apply to the Australians.
Lieutenant-Colonel Kappe’s ineffectual command of ‘F’ Force began on the train from Changi. It will be recalled that he accompanied Lieutenant-Colonel Pond’s 2/29th Battalion on train number 2 from Singapore. Pond:
(I noted that) the position of Brigadier [referring to his later promotion] C.H. Kappe (who was the senior AIF officer in the F Force party on the Burma Railway) was invidious on the train, on the march and in the Konkoita and Taimonta camps. He was not popular with the troops.108
Newton would record that as Pond’s battalion passed through his ‘U’ Battalion camp at Tarsau, Kappe interfered with Pond’s command of his battalion, and having been given eggs for the men from Newton’s funds, ‘was not happy’ when Newton asked him for a contribution to that cost, and only paid the next morning just before his party’s departure.109 After Kappe left Pond’s party and journeyed to Lower Songkurai, Eaton’s diary—and other recollections—provide us with an inexcusable trail of incompetence, sheer neglect and the total abuse of the privileges of command.
Eaton’s diary 1 July 1943: ‘Lt.Col. Kappe arrived to take over command of camp.’ Four days later: ‘Kappe still Hors de Combat [outside the fight] . . .’ On 11 July: ‘Address by Lt.Col. Kappe and Maj Johnston to all Offrs. General blah excuses for Senior Officers.’110 Private John Boehm well remembered Kappe at Lower Songkurai:
What I know of him personally, is that he lined us up one evening after work when it was nearly dark, ‘I know what you think of me,’ he said, ‘But I have to look after myself to get home to report all this.’ And the boys had a bit of a giggle, And he said, ‘I’ll find the man that did that.’ And so we all had a bit of a giggle, and nothing more was said. And it was just after that he left our camp . . . that is the only time I saw him . . . he didn’t have any patched clothes on that’s for sure . . . he looked physically well. And I know for a fact that the doctors and kitchen staffs hated his guts because he . . . demanded what he wanted . . .
His nick name was ‘Kappe-yama’.111
Kappe most certainly ‘demanded what he wanted’. In his autobiography, Captain Fred Stahl (from Kappe’s own 8th Division Signals) would write that:
. . . an Australian Lieutenant Colonel [sic] arrived from Nike [sic Nieke] to take over command of our troops. One of his first acts was to issue an instruction that he was to receive double rations. The reason was, he said, ‘Someone must go back to tell the story of this bastardry and I am the one best qualified to do it.’ Despite protests he insisted on his order being carried out.112
Eaton’s diary, 19 July 1943: ‘Some men are low, very low. Kappe has choice so have I . . .’ On 28 July: ‘Party 300 from Con. Depot left to No. 3 Camp [Upper Songkurai] under Lt.Col. Kappe. Bruce Hunt returns . . . all this Camp to No. 3. How long O Lord How long—’113 On 6 August 1943, Eaton arrived at Upper Songkurai with a 2/30th Battalion contingent:
On arrival at No.3 Upper Songkurai it was a sea of mud. Small camp not prepared for recent trebling in numbers. Lt.Col. Kappe completely despondent. Toyama and Fukuda [Japanese commanders] doing just as they please . . .
Arrive new camp to find Kappe completely ‘Jap Happy’ and the place one large amount of chaos and confusion. Reg Swartz [Major 2/26th Battalion] doing whole task himself. Kappe completely nonactive and not accepting any responsibility for camp. No plan latrines huts hell of a mess. Kitchen hell of a mess. Camp on sea of mud.114
It will be remembered that this camp was a small one and was made up originally of a mixed contingent of around 393 Australians. Amongst them was the 2/29th’s Private Jack Coffee: Jack Haig [Warrant Officer 2/29th Battalion] had to report to this Colonel Kappe every night, and Colonel Kappe used to say to him, ‘Now don’t come any closer . . . it’s imperative that I get home and I don’t want to pick up any germs.’ And he’d speak to Jack Haig twelve feet away. Haig told me that—that was common knowledge. But I don’t think I saw Kappe all the time I was there.115
The author has not been able to find any evidence of what amount or proportion of the ‘F’ Force funds were spent by Lieutenant-Colonel Kappe during its tragic stay on the Railway. Further, no evidence has been found of any sums given to the four battalion commanders by him. But we shall record a final incident in the next chapter concerning the fate of at least a part of that money.
In late October 1943, track-laying parties operating from the south and north met near Konkoita. Within two months the Railway was fully operational. We now turn to the fate of the members of our ‘A’, ‘D’ and ‘F’ Force case studies.
30
‘WHERE ARE THE REST, MAJOR?’
Although our Railway case studies have concentrated on units in ‘A’, ‘D’ and ‘F’ Forces, brief mention should be made of subsequent formations containing Australians sent from Changi. On Anzac Day 1943, 1500 men comprising ‘G’ Force left Singapore by sea for Japan with 200 Australians amongst them; between 5 and 13 May the 2950-strong ‘H’ Force left Changi for the Railway, which included 600 Australians under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Oakes; on 15 May, 900 men of ‘J’ Force sailed for Japan, of whom 300 were Australians (there was no ‘I’ Force); an officers’ party of around 320 including 70 Australians known as ‘H6’ left Changi for the Railway on the 17th; and, finally, two medical units—‘K’ and ‘L’ Forces totalling 30 medical officers and 200 orderlies—were sent for Railway work during June 1943. Those small forces were essentially raised with the same Japanese lies and broken promises that had been made to preceding units. ‘H’ and the ‘H6 Force’ were formed to supplement the rapidly diminishing numbers of POWs who were needed to complete the Railway on schedule, whilst ‘K’ and ‘L’ Forces consisted of medical personnel belatedly deployed to support coolie units ravaged by poor hygiene standards, malnutrition and disease, with a resultant appalling
death rate.
Apart from the retention of small parties from all forces for the purpose of Railway maintenance, the completion of the Railway in late October 1943 saw the Japanese begin to concentrate the bulk of their prisoners in six main camps at Thailand’s southern end of the line: Nakom Paton, Nong Pladuk, Tamuang, Kanchanaburi, Tamarkan and Chungkai. This process was completed between late November 1943 and March 1944. We now turn to the fate of the men of our three case studies.
‘A’ Force in Burma was transported by train to Tamarkan. The process was long and tedious with large numbers of men having to be moved from a number of camps, rolls prepared and the sick accommodated. Brigadier Varley’s diary, 20 December 1943:
Movements would be as follows: 20–25 Dec, 55 K. [kilometre] Hospital camp. 27–29 Dec: 100 K (5 branch); 30 Dec—4 Jan: 105 K. 5–10 Jan: 108–112–114 K. [kilo camps] 11–12 Jan: 131–133 K. The journey will take 2 nights and 2 days. Food and water will be available at 133 K, 207 K. 296 K.1
On Christmas Eve 1943, Varley described the ‘A’ Force move from the 55 Kilo hospital camp:
Nos. moved nightly as follows: 20 Dec, 221; 21 Dec, 254; 22 Dec, 238; 23 Dec, 254; 24 Dec, 253; 25 Dec, 208. making a total of 1428, comprising 956 Australians, British and Americans, 472 Dutch. Sitting patients 28 per van; stretcher cases 8 plus 2 sitting and 2 orderlies. This leaves 260 all ranks in 55 kilo camp . . .2
On 3 January 1944, Brigadier Varley, two other officers and 282 ORs entrained to Kanchanaburi and arrived at Tamarkan on the 4th. Accompanying the 55 Kilo hospital camp personnel was Lieutenant-Colonel Albert Coates, who was posted as the senior medical officer of the Number 3 and 5 Branches at Tamarkan, while Lieutenant-Colonel Ramsay became the camp’s CO.
Brief mention should be made of the further outstanding service of Lieutenant-Colonel Albert ‘Bertie’ Coates. On 5 March 1944, the Japanese appointed him as Chief Medical Officer and consulting surgeon of what was to become the largest of all of the Railway hospital camps: Nakom Paton. From April 1944, batches of about a thousand patients began arriving at the recently completed hospital and by August Coates commanded a staff of over twenty specialists, numerous orderlies and 7353 patients. Nakom Paton contained 50 huts each able to accommodate 200 patients; cubicled latrines were constructed; cookhouses were built at one per thousand POWs; a separate concrete floor surgical block was made with three operating tables; and some measure of the success of the hospital was the fact that around 896 operations were performed by Coates and his team with a mortality count of eighteen.3 Coates would spend the remainder of the war at Nakom Paton.
In early 1944, in response to a shortage of technical expertise and labour for heavy industry, the Japanese decided to send some 10 000 POWs to Japan. These men were to be drawn chiefly from the Thailand POW groups—which did not include ‘F’ and ‘H’ Forces—and were selected by Japanese doctors on the basis of age and health. The fortunes of those ‘Japan Parties’ were mixed. The Japanese planned that such groups would be first moved to Saigon and then by sea to Japan. While shipping shortages and the mounting menace of American submarines caused some of those parties to stay in Saigon, others, originally sent there, were later sent to Singapore pending shipment to Japan. Two Japan parties are of interest to our story.
On 6 September 1944, 2300 POWs under the command of Brigadier Varley—sent first from the Railway to Saigon and then to Singapore—left by ship for Japan. About one thousand of these were British and sailed on the Kachidoki Maru, while a further 716 Australians and 600 British troops boarded the Rakuyo Maru.4 The latter vessel also carried Brigadier Varley, Colonel Melton of the US Air Force and Group Captain Moore of the RAF. Those three officers were to be dropped off at the senior officers’ camp in transit to Japan. Upon embarkation neither ship displayed a Red Cross sign. After leaving Singapore the convoy was reinforced off the Philippines, and consisted then of seven transports, two oil tankers and six escorts.
During the early hours of 12 September 1944, the convoy was attacked by American submarines off Hainan. A destroyer escort was torpedoed first and then at around 5.30 am the two tankers were hit. The Rakuyo Maru, sailing at the rear of the convoy, almost immediately became silhouetted against the tankers. It was not long before screaming Japanese on the bridge identified a ‘tin fish’ approaching. The initial explosion, soon followed by a second, forced water over the ship and down the hold where the POWs were housed. The Japanese crew almost immediately abandoned ship in ten lifeboats; they left two further boats on board which were rusted to the davits and unable to be released. Most of the Australians then took to the water.
Despite its two torpedo hits, the Rakuyo Maru remained afloat for about twelve hours. Captain Richards and one of his 2/15th Field Regiment gunners then began to attempt to launch the remaining starboard lifeboat. After a number of men returned to the stricken ship, the lifeboat was released and around 60 men, some in the water and others in the lifeboat, now drifted in the vicinity of the Rakuyo Maru. During the mid-afternoon another party returned to the ship, and managed to release the port lifeboat, which was occupied by one officer and about 30 ORs who decided to sail eastwards. They were not seen or heard of again.
During that afternoon, Japanese corvettes returned to the scene and rescued their comrades from the ten lifeboats, which allowed the Australians to occupy them. By the end of the day, and just before the Rakuyo Maru sank, there were then four distinct groups of POW survivors: one group of four lifeboats under the command of Captain Richards sailing west; another under Varley’s command consisting of seven boats also sailing west; one further boat sailing eastwards; and the last consisted of a number of luckless survivors who remained in the area clinging to rafts and wreckage. Near midnight that night the Kachidoki Maru was torpedoed and sank in twenty minutes. Of her 1000-strong POW contingent, about 520 were later rescued.
Fate can be a cruel master. Two days later, on 14 September 1944, Richards’s group of four lifeboats, numbering around 80 Australians and 56 British POWs, were rescued by a Japanese frigate. Those 136 men joined the survivors of the Kachidoki Maru. The British survivors from that vessel had suffered cruelly—‘coated in oil which burned their skins’,5 or badly sunburnt. This large group sailed to Hainan-To Harbour and eventually made their way by sea to Moji, Japan.
The fate of the other seven lifeboats is tragic indeed. In an interview with the author, Private Wal Williams distinctly remembered hearing gunfire in the distance just before being picked up.6 In his book, A Doctor’s War, Captain Rowley Richards would record that he had, on a number of occasions, asked the Japanese commander what had happened to Brigadier Varley’s group of seven lifeboats. The Japanese answer gave him little satisfaction. He merely pointed to the other corvettes. Captain Richards would later record that:
Varley’s group of boats was never seen again nor, to my knowledge, has any evidence ever surfaced to suggest the absolute truth of their fate. Those of us who heard the gunfire shortly before we were rescued have only ever believed that their end was swift.7
Here we have yet another example of the almost total unpredictability of Japanese behaviour: one group rescued, the other murdered. So much for a labour shortage in Japan. Varley’s end was a tragic one for a soldier who had given his all as a battalion commander on the Malay Peninsula, as a newly promoted brigadier during the fighting on Singapore Island and as the CO of ‘A’ Force in Burma.
Perhaps the luckless, oil-covered survivors of the Rakuyo Maru who, unable to gain a lifeboat passage, had clung to rafts and wreckage and had been forced to remain in the area would have stood the least chance of survival. But providence decreed otherwise. During the period 13–17 September 1944 some 141 of them—including 80 Australians—were rescued by American submarines and taken to Saipan and then several of them to Australia. These men provided some of the first news of captivity under Nippon, and gave chilling accounts of conditions on the Thai–Burma Railway.
Of the 2300 POWs under Varley’s command who had
left Singapore on the two ships, a total of about 656 were rescued by the Japanese. Ahead lay more hard labour and deprivation in Japan before war’s end.
Captain Reg Newton’s ‘U’ Battalion of ‘D’ Force found themselves at Rin Tin camp around the time of the completion of the Railway. Having heard that there was a camp in the area containing a number of Australians and that they were ‘in a bad way’, Newton trekked some ten kilometres to investigate. What he found yet again illustrates the peculiar mix of factors which could mean the difference between life and death for POWs in any given battalion on the Railway. The camp was called Kewie and here Newton found approximately 1500 Dutch POWs amongst whom was Major Alf Cough’s ‘V’ Battalion of ‘D’ Force (mainly men from the 2/4th Machine Gun Battalion). Newton would later write:
