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Extracts from The Body Snatchers by Lt Jack Leeman cc 26 Australian Graves Unit
Sathorn House then instructed me to go to Prachaub Kirikan to collect death and burial records from a Major Stringer. He had refused to hand them over to men of the Contact and Inquiry Unit which had just come back from the camp there. The camp had been the base for a force of unfortunates drafted to build a road across the Isthmus of Kra to Mergui in Burma. The sick rate had been awful and the death rate shocking. In company with Lieut Eldridge of British Graves Registration I was ordered to fly to Prachaub Kirikan to pick up the records. Our orders were precise on the point. At Dom Muang Airfield I nearly gave the game away. The plane in which we were to travel was a Siamese Air Force Auster more or less held together by paper plugged into holes in the fuselage and perspex. The pilot hadn't a word of English while his demeanour didn't really inspire confidence. Sgt Rankin shook his head before solemnly shaking hands with both of us. I felt a bit the same way. The flight was a novel experience. I had hedgehopped once before in New Guinea when as a passenger I was roped in to assist in "biscuit bombing" operations. That was in a DC3 which had bobbed about enough to be disconcerting. The bumps in this little plane were frequent and frightening. Had we known any of the people on the ground we would have been able to recognise them anywhere along the route. The pilot may have been first-class but Joe Eldridge and I were both relieved to be on the ground. There were a lot of Japanese troops about, all disarmed so far as we could see. In the prison camp itself a handful of reasonably fit men had stayed behind to care for a few who were too sick to be moved. Possibly because of the death rate the atmosphere of the camp and the demeanour of those we met was repelling. Stringer handed over the records with a "you be damned air" and hardly a word to say. It was an odd attitude and one we had come prepared to meet. I found him as unpleasant as no doubt he found me. It was evident that many Australian POW's for reasons best known to themselves had a form of guilt complex which led them to carry a "chip on the shoulder", for all non-prisoners. I became quite insulting when I met it. After all a lot of soldiers who had never seen a prison camp had faced some pretty tough times. The prisoners had had no monopoly on hardship. Our pilot refused point blank to return to Bangkok that day. In spite of his lack of English he managed to make his meaning clear. Air pockets were the reason. They are a flight hazard on tropical afternoons. Because it was obvious we weren't welcome at the POW Camp Joe and I found shelter at a house occupied by a group of men from Force 136. Those who have seen the movie "Bridge on the River Kwai" will have some idea of the type of work these men had been on. They were strong characters and not easy to chum up with, but Major Wymess and a Lt.Commander whose name has gone from my memory took to us. In a car commandeered from General Saito they all the way should we get embroiled with British Troops SIAM. In other words, we were to get the work done, and let the chips fall where they may. To give Ron his due, though he had his faults, none of us thought to doubt his word. It gave us a lot confidence in dealing with the local British. On the first of March Ron left by train to inspect the railway line and the Burma end of the work. He was hardly gone before smallpox was discovered in camp, a young Dutchman dying three days after going sick. There was surprising little fuss about this. It was taken for granted our inoculations would be effective, which they were. Back home there would have been all the hooroosh in the world. CHAPTER 22 On the 20th March I set off with orders to bring back the bodies of those who had died building the road across the Isthmus of Era to Mergui in Burma. I had several Australians with me but no British or Dutch. For some reason or other the British unit had failed to draw rations for the trip. Eldridge asked that we postpone the trip until he was ready and turned on a terrific blue when I insisted on going on with the trip. With the Japanese working party of 200 troops teed up, the special train laid on, and the trip O.K'd by HQ I didn't feel like going through all the motions again. The usual standard remarks about "uncouth colonials" were made and I took off after telling Joe he would have to come after his own damned corpses. "I wouldn't touch one of them." Having got off to a bad start nothing went smoothly. There was torrential rain all the way down in the train, presaging an early start to the monsoon, while at Nong Hin railway station my sense of humour got me into trouble. Just south of Prachaub Kirikan, Nong Hin was the ideal spot for the train to wait until we were ready to return to Kanburi. For it to be held there was contrary to Siamese railway regulations. I had been told to try to win the station master over to the idea, no matter what methods I used. His goodwill was a must. Our arrival must have been a red letter day for the village. The locals turned out to the last man, woman and child to see us disembark. The girls were in their Sunday Best, laughing and giggling as girls do when a lot of men are about. Safe in the knowledge that few Siamese outside the cities spoke English I had got in the habit of making off-beat remarks to the girls in a pleasant voice, a habit that amused the troops a lot. So on this occasion I asked one of the prettiest if her "mother was married yet". By the million to one chance she not only understood English but she was the station master's wife. Talk about strained relations! There was only one thing to do and I did it, apologising contritely and sincerely. The apology was accompanied by a number of delicacies taken from the K Rations we carried with us. Both the apology and the gift were accepted. She sent me back a dish of dessicated coconut spread with all manner of tit-bits, saying as she did so, "Thai Mid Day Snack". I ate it publicly, and would have done so even if it had been poisoned. The station master was no problem. He needed 9mm ammunition for his pistol. Banditry was rife in the district, and a weapon of some sort was an integral part of every male's costume. Once he found we could, and would, let him have plenty of bullets he let us do what we pleased with the train. On my previous trip to the district I had got as far as the first collapsed bridge. From there on the road was a mystery, but some of the Japanese with us had been guards on the prisoners working on the road. They had been informed curtly they would have to locate the cemeteries for us, or else. Our unit cook, Jim Hickey, proved invaluable on the job. An experienced bush worker, he could turn his hand to anything and had a fund of practical bush lore. There was plenty of bushwork ahead of us. Jim's savvy, plus the ant like industry of the Japanese, had the first broken bridge crossable in no time. At the next where repairs would take some time, the jeep and trailer were manhandled down one side of the ravine and up the other. With rope and plenty of muscle there isn't much that can baulk you. This effort took me back to New Guinea days when a vehicle bogged to the floor boards would be de-bogged by plenty of men and "all the men lift". Our base camp some miles out in the jungle was elaborate and well appointed. With over 200 men to cater for it had to be. Water was the big problem. The site of the camp was decided by Japanese who knew where the water was. The campsite and its surround had to be well cleared to keep out tigers - both animal and human. Both varieties were plentiful in the area. Also Capt Yamaguchi asked to be allowed to set up a saluting stand. His troops would expect to salute me each morning before setting out for work. Camp Standing Orders laid down the rules for the running of the camp. Tiger fires would be lit each night, the sentries being responsible to keep them alight. Always meticulous about sentry duty the Japanese were even more so on this point. They were scared of tigers and made no effort to conceal the fact. A further rule was that rid person should leave the circle of firelight for any reason whatsoever. Heavily armed Siamese hung round the camp all day, so it was certain they would be there at night. Our party was too big for them to risk an open attack but they could and would deal with any strays. Capt Yamaguchi was super efficient. Every morning he arrived at my tent with his notebook and the interpreter to ask innumerable questions and to write down every word of the answers, a process that seemed to take hours. However, results were so satisfactory I found it politic to curb my natural impatience. Shades of things to come. Little did I realise then that similar conferences would be my daily lot for four years in Japan itself. Just before 07.00 hours of a morning Yamaguchi would arrive to escort me to the saluting stand where his 200 Japanese stood at attention. On the stand he would howl an order, all bowed low and I would salute. After this was done three times in succession they were ready for the day's work. The jeep would be ticking over, correct for petrol, oil, water and tyres, while the trailer would be loaded with every item ordered the night before. Yamaguchi never faltered once. Efficiency plus. He knew his trade in other things too. Jim Hickey had fired a few pot shots at a line of gibbons swinging from tree to tree. I had a couple of shots with about the same luck as Jim. Yamaguchi held out his hand for the rifle so I passed it to him. He dropped two gibbons with two shots, nice work with an unfamiliar weapon. It gave me furiously to think. The job of exhumation was a tough one. Working conditions on the road had been bad even by the horrible standards we had got used to seeing. The prisoners had been in such poor physical shape that grave digging had been beyond them. One grave often contained several bodies buried on top of one another, just like the layers in a rainbow cake. Identification in some cases was taken from the order in which the burials' had been made. The recent ones were on top. In spite of my threat to Capt Eldridge all bodies were treated alike, and exhumed as we came to them. As soon as there was a trailer load it was hurried back to camp, the jeep working overtime. It is impossible to leave bodies, old or otherwise, lie about in the tropics. Two aspects of the jeep operation were a constant worry. The first was whether my estimate of petrol required had been sufficient. (We were on the last jerry-can when the British Unit turned up with their stores and supplies. The other was whether the bandits would have a go at the jeep and trailer when fully loaded with bodies and consequently short on escort. They didn't, probably because at my insistence the crews literally bristled with arms. An ambush would have cost the bandits dear, and your true bandit prefers his victims helpless. Never once did we lay eyes on a tiger but there were plenty of elephants - tame ones busily engaged at snigging out teak logs from precipitous slopes and gullies. By using their tusks and terrific strength they could do extraordinary things. I was fascinated to watch one stop sliding logs by the use of his tusks and one forefoot. In all they appeared to be a lot smarter than the natives who controlled them. Rumour had it that they knew to a minute just how long they were supposed to work, and once that time was up the divil a log would they touch. Another impressive thing about elephants is their size. When your jeep encounters one head on along a narrow native track he looks to be as high as a two-storey building. Then it was that you were glad he was a tame one - no man would predict how the wild ones would react. Every man on the trip, be he Australian or Japanese, had worked well. We finished the recoveries and had the bodies all safely in the train well ahead of schedule. So I declared that we would put in a couple of days swimming at the beach. The sea water was stickily warm, aggravating rather than soothing my long-standing skin trouble. The insides of my thighs where the trouser seams rub had lost all the skin, the result looking like raw steak, and walking became a matter of extreme difficulty. So I asked the Japanese medical officer to have a look at me. He forbade any further salt water swimming, and raided our first aid kit Eor the full strength iodine. I understand my language when he applied it surprised even my off-siders. However, the result was excellent and I healed pretty quickly, being quite better by the time I got back to Kanburi. Later that night I was woken by Gunso (Sgt) Okada who reported that L/Cpl Noma was not in camp, I had rebuked Noma, the interpreter, earlier in the night and knew he resented the rebuke. His absence was a matter for concern. It seemed obvious that he had been "snatched" by the bandits. There were guards on duty, but not as many as usual because of the necessity of keeping the train well guarded at the same time. A message to Capt Yamaguchi at the train brought the reply that he had turned out all the men but that Noma was not among them nor had anyone seen him at any stage during the evening. There was nothing further that could be done in the dark but at dawn we went into action, scouring the country in all directions. The only sign was the discovery of Noma's boots tied together by the laces. They were an old pair of Australian boots given him by Lloyd Rankin and we all knew he was very proud of them. Finally I sent word to the Siamese Governor to the effect we planned to look for the missing man even if it entailed a house to house search of the nearby village. I had nothing to lose by being nasty to His Ex. Relations had been strained ever since our arrival when he had complained that the presence of so many armed Japanese soldiers was insulting to his dignity. My retort had been that the dishonesty of the Governor's countrymen had rendered the presence of so many armed men necessary. Then the Governor's wife had complained about being insulted by one of the Australians. She had been too, but not intentionally. An apology had been called for and I had apologised handsomely, as did Jim Hickey, the guilty party. The apology was accepted in a grudging manner, not doing anything to ease the strained relations. When we did do the house to house search the Japanese showed themselves to be old hands at the game. First surrounding the house to make sure no one got away, two men went through the front door and stood with their backs to the rear wall. The next pair Would work together, looking into every nook and cranny. As one was poking in a grass roof with his bayonet I remembered Kipling's poem, "Loot". This was the method he talked about. In spite of the widespread search no trace was found of the missing man. This was a bit tough for me because he had been wearing my issue pistol. His duties had entailed moving on foot from party to party as they worked in the jungle and some form of protection had been a necessity. A rifle would have been inconvenient, so I let him carry my pistol while I carried an Owen Gun, a much handier weapon. Arming a recently surrendered enemy may seem unusual, but rules and regulations don't always cover the requirements one meets in the field. Kipling has something to say on this subject too. As the train was booked to depart at a fixed time there seemed little point in delaying its departure. We had made a thorough search for the missing Noma and had mentally written him off. To cheer me up further I kept hearing rifle shots as the train rolled along, inquiry finally revealing that one of the newly arrived corporals was amusing himself in taking pot shots into the jungle. Because there could have been people, or villages full of people, just behind the screen of jungle I was very terse with him, to his shocked amazement. Those men who had spent the war days in Australia appeared to be used to the kid glove treatment, something they were not likely to get from me. When we detrained at Banpong we were met by a road party led by George Capper en route to the Shan States and China. He had been angling for a trip for a long time past and had got me to promise him the next big one. He certainly got it, although he might not have, had I realised just how unusual the trip was going to be, and that I would be criticised for letting an NCO undertake such a dangerous mission. George cheered me up by telling me one of our cooks was up on a murder charge. Pariah dogs were a nuisance around the cookhouse to the extent a rifle was kept there for their despatch by whoever was on duty. Our man, well under the influence of carefully stored issue rum, had fired two shots which had killed one sepoy in the adjoining camp and wounded another. The Indians were justifiably annoyed and at one stage had looked like declaring war on us. Things were only middling. Back at camp in Kanburi I was kept busy by the disposal of the bodies brought in from the Mergui Road. About a week after our return a signal informed us that L/Cpl Noma had been found wandering naked in the jungle a long way from where he had disappeared. The bandits had stripped him clean. Hot on the heels of the signal came a Japanese colonel to ask what form of punishment I wanted inflicted on Noma. As he was already undergoing six months rigourous imprisonment I let it go at that. Punishment wouldn't return my pistol which was my main concern, and the rigourous imprisonment would give the man all the bother he would be likely to want. His story was that, stung by my reproof, he set off into the darkness with the intention of shooting himself. The bandits beat him to the draw ! |
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