Shortly after I entered Bangkok an attempt was made to find residences of British subjects within the City limits: they had all evacuated pell-mell, inside their houses no furniture, clothing, etc. was to be found, not even a single sheet of paper! At the residence of Ambassador Crosby was found his signed notice ordering them to evacuate with each individual’s life and property his own personal responsibility. England, without any sort of previous notice, in an unexpected coup had declared war. Allowing for the time difference, the Japanese Army, with a previously announced declaration of war, made landings and surprise assaults on Singora and Kota Bharu in the northern part of the Malayan Peninsula. In fact, in an article in the Singapore special edition (October 1979) of the British magazine, After the Battle,97 Prime Minister Churchill, in the opening paragraph of his diplomatic document, transmitted to the Japanese Government what amounted to an ultimatum. The passage runs: ‘To have opened hostilities without giving any previous notice is a matter of regret. Here, England declares a break-off of diplomatic relations with Japan.’ Former prisoner-of-war, Mr Adams, in his recollections states: ‘England was involved in an endless war.’
Whether one likes war or finds it repugnant, a situation in which one was inevitably drawn into is clearly what happened to England. Japan, post-war, in the context of the New Constitution of 1946, declared she abandoned war, but there is no guarantee that she would not withdraw her declaration. Settlement of a dispute between two nations ought to be done by peaceful negotiation: as for the use of armed might, steering clear of it would be the right course. Formerly naturalized Japanese, one found in travelling around Malaya, were employed as guides, and one, living in Kota Bharu, waiting for the outbreak of hostilities, is said to have been plastered in the early hours by a Japanese projectile. His girlfriend had moved back into Singapore and in the end when Japan suffered defeat in 1945, she had difficulty supporting herself. Here is an example of how a Japanese who held office on a battle-front reacted to the realities of battle.
It was on 25 December when our bridging unit was moving to Bangkok that there was an intelligence report that a car accident en route had caused casualties. Without even entering the front line one wonders whether one can be rated as a battle-casualty. The unit was concentrated at the Macassar Railway Workshops. We gunzoku were expecting to be in the front line, we were quite busy, but we felt a certain amount of tension.
On 30 December the unit travelled in a goods train which had been got ready at Bansoe station and went South on the South Thailand Line. It crossed a high steel bridge over the River Menam and moved on from Bangkok. It passed through Banpong and in the Peburi district crossed over the River Mae Khlaung which runs South into the Gulf of Siam. We passed Chumphon, Prachuab Khiri Khan and other places and went on through a station, whose name escapes me, into a plain which had much cactus and one wondered whether it was really an extensive paddy-field. It was dotted with coconut palms and water buffaloes were at work.
On 31 December the train continued South and in the afternoon entered a ravine in the hills where it came to a complete halt. The train-driver said the planned haulage limit for rolling stock had been grossly exceeded and in this section of track the engine failed to take the incline. The unit commander ordered everyone to alight and ‘Shove the train!’ was his command. It was a novel, an unheard-of situation. That night was New Year’s Eve, 1941.
When the train stopped at a small station the buildings shone cheerfully in the moonlight, and was that not a moment to see the New Year in? The melody was heard, ‘Auld Lang Syne’, which one used to hear as if ‘the fire-fly’s light was on the window-pane’. In the battle-zone we were homesick at the thought of ringing out the Old Year, and the sound of instrumental music evoked in us sentimental feelings. At first light it was New Year’s Day, 1942. The train pulled into Hat Yai, the station at the junction in southern Thailand.
We were ordered to alight, and everyone set about assembling machine-parts when the sound of an explosion was heard. ‘Enemy planes!’ was the alarm and we got out of the place, scattering like little spiders out of a cocoon. In a flash we heard the noise of sweeping machine-gun fire. We all felt more and more we were riding into the battle-line, that our lives were in danger.
The sky was clear on New Year’s Day. We greeted a very hot New Year but there was no time for rest. We had to push on.
Chapter 4
THE RIVER KRIAN
On 8 December the Japanese Army had landed at Singora and Kota Bharu on the Malayan Peninsula. The invasion force, successful in their landing and surprise attack, immediately crossed the frontier and assaulted the British possession of Malaya. The brigades, which set up the route to the whole of the Malayan coastline, on their way South pushed aside the resistance of the British Army’s defence-position at Jitra, north of Alor Star, and towards the end of December reached the line of the River Perak. On 1 January Ipoh caved-in and our Army closed-in on the line to the north of Kampar.
Our bridging unit used Malayan Railways after a surprise infantry attack and pursuit and got into Sungei Patani on 2 January. The airfield was bombed, the enemy destroyed his railway-lines with mines: it became pretty dangerous. On 4 January the unit was ordered to the Krian River railway bridge and told to prepare temporary bridge-girders. The bridge was 100 km from Sungei Patani going South and while the girders were being put up the retreating enemy’s time-fused charges blew up three trusses, a 40-metre gap. At the same time the road downstream of the bridge was also damaged so a temporary bridge had to be put up.
During their retreat the British Army held us up by destroying the highway over bridges regardless of size. Our infantry drove on in pursuit and to the bridges which enemy field engineers had collapsed repairs had to be made. The advance continued and on both the Perak and the Krian rivers the demand was for installing temporary bridges quickly. All of us gunzoku gave demonstrations of our skills and pressed on with the work, everyone in high spirits, having been accorded such an opportunity of taking an active part in the Japanese Army’s invasion of Singapore.
The bridges covered about 200 metres in total extent and their construction-framework comprised three 40-metre-span trusses. In addition, two 40-metre-span trusses had also fallen down in mid-river together with their bridge-piers. In re-installing the fallen trusses there was no margin to spare in the time available and so we had to make wooden temporary bridges downstream. The river-bed was over ten-metres deep, covered with mud, and because it was near to an estuary the ebb-and-flow of the tide affected water levels. After technical engineering tests we pushed in stout timbers about 20 metres long to make bridge-piers, and made wooden girders 4 metres long to fit one span, and lowered the railtrack surface as much as possible, work which proved inadequate, so we had to work to a gradient below normal percentages to secure the track.
On 6 January the pile-driving job started. All the unit’s working companies in turn were apportioned to it, with 2 and 3 Labour Companies laying and securing the roadbed and then laying the railtrack, 4 Company assembling materials together with a Materials Company formed specially from 1 Labour Company.
Since the job was below surface pile-driving meant that we had to erect a piling frame. It was a painful job, and because it took time to commandeer boats for pontoons it was 9 January before piling got out to mid-river. In the assembling of materials the business of buying and fashioning stout timbers was difficult and in the end, to get the right coverage, we had to log rubber-trees in a plantation. Later on, stockists of timber girders and metal fittings were sent promptly from Thailand. The rails to be used were shunted into a sidings near Nibontebal station.