MEMOIRS
Crewman on the SS Kirkpool sunk by German raider THOR.

The weather in Japan in the early months of 1943 was quite similar to the UK with colder weather in the north, as was shown by freight arriving snow and ice-bound at Kawasaki. The quality of the issued clothing was totally inadequate for the climate -paper-thin tie-up trousers with shirts and jackets of the same material. Boots were made of pigskin, as issued to the Japanese military, and quite good.

No underwear was issued and necessity became the mother of invention. One of my roommates, a huge Australian, had pattern and cutting skills and, coupled with my sewing skills, we manufactured underpants from Soya Press cloths of linen that I had acquired earlier from Aji-No-Moto. All the Japanese civilians wore army style putties as some form of respect for their military so we were forced to conform. Failing to wear them invited another beating. We found the putties quite helpful at times. If we had any contraband, it was convenient to drop it down our trouser legs where it would be retained and mostly missed by a body search.

These first six months in captivity, working in an outside environment probably kept us saner than if we had been locked up. We worked in groups with one or two Japanese coolie labour instructing us on our duties. We found working with these low class Japanese quite a friendly liaison though, while they were quite sympathetic to our ill-treatment and hungriness, to visibly help us would have incurred extreme penalties. The military ruled the roost in Japan and to carry out any misdemeanours by civilians would have meant a severe physical beating.

We were by now picking up quite a smattering of the Japanese language and this became very useful for scrounging items, mostly cigarettes for those that smoked. Food was also very short for the Japanese so there was no hope of begging any from them. We found Japanese green tea very unpalatable and considered it to resemble horses' urine. The coolies managed to secretly supply us with some black tea, which we drank with no sugar or milk.

The Japanese, in the main very small people, looked quite strange to us, dressed in a short kimono type jackets, tie-up dungaree trousers and canvas top, rubber soled footwear, cloven with a separation for the large toes only. In wet weather, we had to wear rice straw skirts with two wing type shoulder pads which afforded no protection from the elements. We looked even stranger than the Japanese.

We worked at least eight hours a day, seven days a week but at some point during 1943, we were granted one day's rest per month. This 'rest' usually entailed unloading any camp deliveries or ladling the toilet waste into buckets to be taken away by a civilian to spread on his land for vegetable growing -a revolting task.

This repetitive lifestyle continued for most of the year with the occasional loss of life with most of getting hungrier and in poorer physical shape. When someone died, the Japanese performed some form of Buddhist ceremony where a mournful dirge was chanted, broken only by the striking of a triangle and the burning of incense. The orange box type coffin was usually adorned with fruit, rice and vegetables, a ritual not understood by us but one which would have been better used to feed our bellies! The corpse was then taken away by a cyclist on a three wheel "deercart" to an unknown ending.

Christmas came and went and it was incomprehensible to us how we were still surviving Spirit and the determination not to give in was all that was keeping us going.

Early in the year of 1944, I was returned to work at Aji-No-Moto but at a different job in the newly reconstructed workplace. The new style factory was being formed to be more productive to the war effort. I had to suffer an horrific job on the west side working on pressers where grey coloured sludge was pumped through to form some manufacturing process towards eventually becoming aluminium. I was forced to stand for hours on end in the residue which was discharged onto the floor. The smell of chlorine was at times overpowering and I dreaded each day. By this time, I was becoming very unwell but by some miracle, a shortage of one man saw me become a member of a construction gang. This company which subcontracted work to the main company was called Nippon Kogan Kaisha, or Japanese Steel Company. The main factory was now known as Dai Nippon Kagaku Kogyo, Kabushiki Kaisha, Kawasaki Kogyo, and Tokyo.

We were a gang of four prisoners known as "Tekko" along with a very friendly Japanese crane driver and his assistant, Yushida San and Sato San. The latter bore a striking resemblance to Stan Laurel and so we soon nicknamed him Stan. I began to enjoy work more in the friendly open air and consequently, my health and outlook became brighter.

The type of work we were now on gave us a greater movement of freedom from the one or two guards, although they were now assisted by a Japanese civilian known as a "fu" man who carried the same authority .The massive acreage of the plant made it impossible for these three persons to supervise all the separate gangs working in different areas. The ingenuity of very hungry men now manifested itself fully. Much of the plant had become derelict but it was always possible to find live electricity; a well-known source for cooking. A convenient flour warehouse used for various products by Aji-No-Moto and a store of salt became a regular source of illegal provisions for us. Most prisoners always carried a linen sack for stealing purposes. Kerosene cans had tops cut off to form boiling cans and heating elements of a crude nature by people with a knowledge of electrics were made.

Body searches were less prevalent now, so more risks were taken. Flour was taken back to camp one day, dough of just flour, salt and water made up and carried out again next day to be cooked. This very 'heavy' duff became quite a supplement to our meagre rations.

There were so many gangs cooking now that various individuals could be seen darting in and out of derelict places all day long. I should think that the extra load must have shown on the Japanese National Grid!

Sometimes, late cooking meant that the duff had to be removed from heat rather late and was consequently rather hot to carry home to camp. Many prisoners had sore bellies as the only place to secret the food was with the tie-up trousers. The camaraderie of the P 0 Ws was brilliant and everyone who contributed to the manufacture had a cut of the spoils.

I became very careless and complacent and soon paid the penalty of a severe physical beating when I was caught stealing. I had made a regular habit of taking back a small bottle of Soya sauce for my Australian friend Bill Viney. On this particular day I had hidden two kilos of flour in a linen sack in my midriff held in place by the tie-ups of my trousers with the loose fitting jacket camouflaging the rest. I kept Bill's bottle of sauce in a back pocket carelessly not dropping it down my trouser leg. Unfortunately a body search was called for our site and the bottle was discovered. Three others were found with contraband and we were all sent to front of ranks where we received a father and mother of a beating by the guard. Each time the butt of the rifle hit different parts of my anatomy, the sack of flour moved, making me look pregnant! Colleagues in the front row kept advising me by signs to make adjustments while he was punishing the others. God's mercy, he never spotted the other sack.

Searches on site usually meant a report to the camp Sergeant but luckily we were dismissed on the count back being correct. Such relief, and Bill's remark of "Did you bring the Soya back?" was a trifle ironic!

The Japanese climate was very similar to the UK with very comfortable warm weather right up until Christmas. This made working conditions much more favourable. Despite almost every P.O.W showing rib cage bones and projecting hip bones, our frames seemed to be hardening to the treatment and I am sure our stomachs must have shrunk, as the meagre rations easily seemed to satisfy us.

We were constantly being used as guinea pigs for some serum or other and regular checks were made for Cholera as the Japanese had a desperate fear of this disease.

The weeks and months continued to pass and these seemed little hope the war was nearing an end and the Japanese prognosis for us should they lose the war was decapitation, not a very optimistic outlook. With some of the P.O.Ws being Chinese and a great similarity of the printed characters with Japanese writing, we gleaned some information of US successes from the odd newspapers. Without remembering the timescale of these events we knew the islands of Saipan and Okinowa had been recovered from the Japanese, it could have been between late 1944 and the early months of 1945. This began to put a brighter spring in our step.

The next ordeal we had to suffer was constant night bombing by waves of US B.29 aircraft with incendiary devices. Thankfully so because if the bombs had been of high explosive we would not have survived due to their accuracy. Kawasaki was literally raised to the ground with virtually all of the lower class dwellings destroyed. These places were so primitive and made mainly of wood, paper and corrugated iron. One must remember that 1945 was not like the modem day Japan. With almost two hundred prisoners we were able to defeat the fire hazard by beating out the flying charcoal embers falling on the roof and without a direct hit, Kawasaki No.1 camp survived, standing out like an oasis in the desert. For nights afterwards the Japanese civilians huddled around the outside perimeter of the camp, thinking perhaps that the Americans knew our whereabouts. With little left to flatten, the raids ceased and work was continued most days. We now had expectations of things going our way and dared to hope perhaps of release from our horror.

On August 6th, after a usual day's work on site, we were met by our coolie supervisors all wearing horror struck and solemn expressions on their faces. The 'Atom Bomb' had been dropped on Hiroshima which was on the same island of Honshu as Kawasaki albeit some 300 miles away. The description by our supervisors of the magnitude of devastation and loss of life was a severe shock to all Japanese we came into contact with. This was a great boost to our morale and we began to look forward to each day and the new developments it brought with it. At last, we knew things were definitely going in favour of the Allies!

We went to work every day between 6th and 15th August, the actual date of the Japanese surrender. On one day during this time, we ceased work at midday for lunch but the restart afterwards was delayed for one to two hours, making us wonder if hostilities had ceased. We wandered about outside the mess room trying to get some confirmation of the happenings for the delay. This finally came from a passing Japanese who raised his hands in the air in the surrender position and said, "Nippon".

With still no official confirmation we were reformed in ranks and marched back to camp
where we were ordered to stay. Still being under armed guard, discretion was the better part of valour. To do anything foolish would have been ridiculous after surviving three and a half years of such horror. History has since proved that this particular day I have described, must have been August 15th 1945.

The American officer in charge of our camp, Commander Newman, kept us aware of instructions and how we were to conform. We were to join blankets together to make a large drape and mark with a large cross to hang over the camp roof to be visible from the air.

The bombing started again, but this time the dropping of parachute supplies was favourable to us very hungry men. The generosity of the Americans knew no bounds – they were such generous people. We were now able to indulge ourselves, perhaps a little too much for comfort at times. As starving men, we were inclined to ignore the advice not to overeat or over medicate.

Collecting some of the parachuted supplies meant leaving the confines of the camp to retrieve them and we considered this now to be our privilege. One of the Japanese guards took exception to this and despite still being unarmed, he chose to confront a Scottish POW ‘Mince’ McKay who immediately flattened him, breaking his own wrist in the process but gaining immense satisfaction. Months earlier, aggression like this would have meant a life threatening beating with an added bonus of being tied to a post naked all night. The Japanese officer Lt Takahuchi had since left in a hurry and for the few guards that remained, it was now time for them to be prudent.

This magnificent new lifestyle continued for some days until on an unknown date, we were instructed to assemble and make our way by foot to the harbour of Tokyo bay. It has to be remembered at this time there were no American land forces ashore, hence the footslogging.

The walk took some time through dilapidated-bombed areas but proceeded with little incident. The Japanese were showing a cowardly absence despite their bravado of what would happen to us should they loose the war. None of us were decapitated, nor did I see any Japanese that committed hara-kiri, the method of disembowelling on the sword for shame of defeat in battle.

On arrival at the harbour we were taken by DUKW landing barges to the US Hospital Ship Benevolence anchored in Tokyo Bay. We were thoroughly, medically examined and treated where necessary and once again showered by the supreme hospitality of our American allies. No POW was expected to lift a finger, just to rest, eat and recuperate.

After several days of this luxury and again on an unknown date, we left Tokyo Bay and headed to Manila, capital of the Philippine Island of Luzon. This time we were housed tents which the Americans called bivouac, again expected to do nothing but convalesce. Despite this wonderful treatment and gaining in strength, weight and fitness, the pangs of returning home were closest to our minds.

We were given the choice of a quicker flight home or a longer sea voyage. I chose the latter; influenced by the fact I had lost my brother Ted in the RAF six weeks before the end of the hostilities. I promised earlier in these memoirs to elaborate more on Ted’s misadventure this is now fully described in another file. I was allocated a place on the SS Empress of Australia for the voyage to UK via Colombo – Ceylon, Suez Canal, Alexandria, Gibraltar and Liverpool arriving late October 1945.