蜜芽传媒

MY LIFE MY WAR

By
Bernard Hallas

Chapter 13c - We Bombard Salerno (Cont.)

It was also part of the patrol鈥檚 duty to work in conjunction with the local police and to walk around 鈥楽lave Island鈥�, a rather salubrious part of the town, and be picked up by the pimps and taken to houses of ill repute. Two minutes after entering, the doors would be smashed open and the police would arrest everyone on the premises (there鈥檚 not a lot you can do in two minutes). We usually finished up having a cold beer in the local station.

I knew of course that the life of ease that we were enjoying could not last forever and eventually I would come down to earth with a bump. While travelling round from camp to camp, I was actually listed on the books of HMS Suffolk and it was from there that I received my postings. I was now ordered to leave the R.N. Patrol and proceed to Ilimbi Camp, somewhere in the wilds. It was rough, and it was where people who had been on 鈥楽oft鈥� duties were brought back to reality and trained in jungle warfare.

On our first exercise away from camp, we returned to find that all of the mosquito nets, normally suspended from above the beds, had been cut down and removed. The local police were called in and inspected the scene of the crime. On one of the beds where the intruders had entered through a window, was a large dirty footprint. After a discussion between the inspector and his sergeant, it was disclosed that they knew whose footprint it was. I myself was a little sceptical, but as one of the duty corporals I accompanied them to a small village a few miles away.

After asking the headman where a certain man lived, the police entered his rather ramshackle hut and immediately dug up the earth floor. There they were, our mosquito nets had been recovered. It would appear that just as we in England rely on fingerprints for evidence, the Indian police rely on foot, or toe prints. On another occasion we had to do a bit of underhanded work our selves. Actually it was a rather unlawful exercise.

While we were living in rather frugal conditions, a well-established army camp, a few miles away had everything, including a field dynamo to provide lighting etc. We decided to take it, and made our plans accordingly. At the back, and some way off from our huts, we dug a large pit, big enough to hold the dynamo.

From the marine engineers, we obtained a suitable crane mounted on a lorry and the necessary wire ropes,, complete with eyebolts. On the appointed night we made our way to the back of the army camp and leaving the dynamo still connected, hoisted it on to the back of our lorry.

When we were ready to move off, being satisfied that we had completed the job, we made a quick disconnection and went hell for leather to our own camp. The dynamo was lowered into the prepared hole, suitably protected and covered over and camouflaged, we then returned the transport to the marine engineers who were of course in on the act and then sat back and waited.

There was the usual hue and cry, the military police searched the area and of course found nothing. It was weeks later that we dared to connect up and provide our own lighting.

There were other moments of light entertainment to relieve the boredom of camp life. On one exercise we were taken in closed lorries and dropped off many miles away in the dark and told to find our way to the beach at Kilindini. We were lost.

As dawn came on the second day, our scout climbed the tallest tree in the area and to his delight, saw the sea shimmering about a mile away. We decided that we would finish the exercise by breaking cover and opening fire with our Bren guns and rifles on any suitably safe target that appeared in sight.

On breaking from the scrub, all that we could see was a long finger of rocks extending from the beach to about thirty feet out to sea. This was to be our 鈥榚nemy鈥�. We let fly with everything and splinters of rock flew in all directions. Satisfied with our result, we made our way homewards and reported a successful exercise. But all was not well.

Two days later, the N. C. O.鈥� s were called into the C. O.鈥� s office, where they were confronted by a very irate Ceylonese official who informed us that the local fisherman had set off for their fishing grounds and as was their practice, assembled round their local shrine to pray for a good catch only to find that some infidels had blasted it to pieces with their guns. They were very angry indeed and it was only the intervention of our C.O. who pledged that: we the offenders, would, fork up the equivalent of a good day鈥檚 catch, and prevented an international incident. At least we were not involved in the war.

I received my letters regularly and replied to them. It was difficult finding things to say, always being aware that some young officer was waiting there with a large pair of scissors. to shred your letter. On one of the visits of HMS Suffolk, I did get posted aboard for a short time. It was a relief to get back to gunnery routine and I did get a chance to land at Ramiree on the Arakan Peninsular.

General Slim and his Fourteenth Army were advancing southwards from Rangoon and required advance airfields in the Arakan region. By clearing the scrub and laying down large rolls of steel netting, these were hastily built. In order to do this the engineers had to clear the minefields that the Japanese had left behind, and in some areas there were still suicide bombers squatting in holes, holding percussion shells between their knees and ready to detonate them when and if required. A grenade dropped into the hole was the easiest way out of the rather difficult and dangerous situation.

Back in Colombo it was back to policing the streets and the bars. Certain hotels were out of bounds to the troops and the few Australians who were passing through did not appreciate this.

One of the main hotels had large palm fronds in tubs in the main entrance, and beyond the main entrance was the dance floor. It was not uncommon for the Australians, after being told that they were not allowed in, to use the large tubs and skate them across the polished dance floor and bowl the afternoon 鈥楾ea dancers鈥� over.

As they were usually in transit, to place them under arrest would have caused more trouble than it was worth. They were simply driven to the docks and handed over to their own officers, who no doubt sympathised with them and let them go. Shopping had its better moments, out on patrol we would call in a shop wearing our naval police arm bands and enquire the price of an article.

If the owner refused to lower his price we would leave the premises and return with an 鈥淥ut of Bounds鈥� notice, which we placed outside his premises. The next time we called in he was more cooperative. Out east on the war front, things were looking far better, by now the Japanese were in full retreat and the inmates of their infamous prison camps, that is, those that they left alive, were finding their way back by various routes to the United Kingdom.

The most popular route was via Australia, where they were first hospitalised and brought back to some semblance of their former selves before being shipped home. Others found their way to Colombo. As they arrived on their transports the docksides were crowded with hundreds of uniformed female members of the services, waiting to help them down the gangways and to give them some semblance of a hero鈥檚 welcome. It was a pitiful sight.

As I attempted to help one of the worst off the gangway, he stumbled and trod on my foot. I hardly felt it as he looked at me and said, 鈥淪orry Mate鈥�. I suppose being a hard bitten marine, I should have been immune, especially after some of the events on board our bombed ships, but standing there, listening to a man who has survived more than three years of humiliation, deprivation and starvation saying, 鈥淪orry Mate鈥�, for standing on my toe, and with memories of my brother being in the same condition, if he was still alive, I had to hold back the tears. These were the men who had been abandoned in Singapore.

Let me revert back to a poetic explanation.

It was a bastion of Far Eastern Empire
Described as the 鈥淐ountries Last Ditch
The home of remittance men and planters
Bankers and sons of the rich,
There were lots of hard working colonials
And those of the posh upper class,
Who lived a life of comfort and ease
As did the army鈥檚 Top Brass.

The army of course could protect them
But the rank and file could not mix,
For 鈥楻affles鈥� and establishments like it
Were the playgrounds of the rich

Not all the places were restricted
The brothels, dance halls and bars
Rang up their tills with the soldiers pay
And the cash of the visiting 鈥楾ars鈥�

But not forever would this snobbery last
For 鈥榃ar Talk鈥� was well to the fore,
And once again it would be 鈥淭ommy鈥�
As it was in the days of yore

The Seventh Heavy Battery, out on the point
Found out to their dismay,
That their guns would only face seaward
A stupid mistake, one could say.

But stupid mistakes by Government
Like Norway, Dunkirk and Crete,
Were explained away by the powers that be
As a strategic and planned retreat

Eventually some of the guns turned round
To attack an advancing foe,
But having no High Explosive shells
The result was a bloody poor show

Armour piercing was all that they had
For sinking ships out at sea,
But for concentrations of enemy troops
High Explosive it had to be.

So another mistake had come to light
Once again brave men had died,
Their artillery was changed for rifles
But too late to stem the tide

Given a chance and given the tools
Those men could have saved the day,
But the keepers of our Empire
For years had led them astray.

The Governor who was too late with his warning
The city that was left brightly lit,
Providing a target for Japanese bombs
That succeeded with hit after hit.

It really should never have happened
The Japs were outnumbered, outclassed,
But their leaders were well-trained fanatics
And unfortunately, we lived in the past.

They were ferocious, vindictive and cruel
Like animals, out for the kill,
They neither asked for, nor gave any mercy
They murdered and tortured at will

They were 鈥楪iven鈥� our troops as prisoners
The surrender was given too soon,
For some it were better to have fought and died
Than to dance to the Japanese tune

The Death Camps鈥� were not just at Changi
The 鈥楻ailway of Death鈥� took its toll,
And they beat them from Java to Kokopo
And starved them to death in 鈥楾he Hole鈥�.

They worked them till they were skin and bone
And those that spoke up were defiled,
Then thrown out to die in the jungle
And be the prey, of anything wild.

There鈥檚 no forgiveness for treatment like that
Yet, they were not even punished by law,
And to look at their inscrutable faces
It was hard to believe what we saw.

But now their day is over
鈥淭he Rising Sun鈥� has set,
The prison camps are empty
But we鈥檙e not home as yet.

We took our emaciated comrades
To Colombo, St Joseph鈥檚 and bed,
And not wanting to kill them with kindness
A notice saying, 鈥淣ot to be Fed鈥�

It took days to prepare them for travel
But the girls in the forces were grand,
They treated those skeletons like the heroes they were
And took them for walks, hand in hand.

They talked gently of their loved ones
Of those they had left behind,
Not a word of what they had suffered
It was all in the back of the mind.

But they will never forget those Singapore Men
The horrors and sights that they saw,
But they will never buy anything 鈥淢ade in Japan鈥�
Those 鈥淔ar Eastern Prisoners of War"

Pr-BR

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