tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39133301987371316322024-03-13T21:04:17.690+08:00Singapore 1942I have set up this site to support my research related to the events and personal stories concerning the fall of Singapore in February 1942. Specifically my interest relates to the evacuation of civilians and military personnel from Keppel harbour where most of the evacuation ships left from in the last days before Singapore capitulated to the Japanese.
http://www.twitter.com/singapore1942
You can contact me on davidahope@gmail.com David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.comBlogger207125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-40789470866803405722016-09-01T10:52:00.001+08:002016-09-01T10:52:35.625+08:00Dr Bill Frankland Singapore POWDavid Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com60tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-22261341244286511322016-04-14T13:28:00.001+08:002016-04-14T13:28:59.003+08:00WWII tale unravels at Adam Park bungalow, Singapore News<a href="http://www.straitstimes.com/singapore/wwii-tale-unravels-at-adam-park-bungalow">WWII tale unravels at Adam Park bungalow, Singapore News</a>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com64tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-18648836997654100422015-12-18T14:04:00.001+08:002015-12-18T14:04:27.170+08:00Post surrender (IWM)<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2AqryZ8Peh4/VnOh6bLfONI/AAAAAAADV_c/In9R7qOmv98/s640/blogger-image-371853503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2AqryZ8Peh4/VnOh6bLfONI/AAAAAAADV_c/In9R7qOmv98/s640/blogger-image-371853503.jpg"></a></div>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-70522011152011382502015-12-17T18:38:00.001+08:002015-12-17T18:38:13.011+08:00Fall of SingaporeIncredible photo from the IWM taken just after the surrender<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SI3YKONzoU4/VnKQkr_8aTI/AAAAAAADV-4/4sUWigZRpaY/s640/blogger-image--1680234313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SI3YKONzoU4/VnKQkr_8aTI/AAAAAAADV-4/4sUWigZRpaY/s640/blogger-image--1680234313.jpg"></a></div>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com1Bukit Merah Singapore1.268869 103.828222tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-33292194062610175662015-10-24T10:48:00.002+08:002015-10-24T10:48:44.029+08:00The Adam Park project regularly posts fascinating updates <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/AdamParkProject/posts/1186843031332725">https://www.facebook.com/AdamParkProject/posts/1186843031332725</a></div>
David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-14164702698884777252015-09-28T12:56:00.001+08:002015-09-28T12:56:37.801+08:00HMS THANET <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<img alt="HMS Thanet 50th Anniv of Loss Sunk 1942 off Malaya. Double Signed" height="280" src="https://assets.rareburg.com/IEW0BHA9ZJUW/9ceb44e061b411e5b2b003a71b086519_big.jpg" width="400" /></div>
David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-11029304484342733002015-08-23T22:25:00.001+08:002015-08-23T22:25:57.651+08:00BBC Interview with 103 year old Dr Bill Frankland<a href="http://bbc.in/1SU5oxf">http://bbc.in/1SU5oxf</a><div><br></div><div>It was fascinating meeting Bill in Singapore last year - what an incredible man!</div>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-39681867408106773352015-06-25T23:13:00.001+08:002015-06-25T23:13:35.655+08:00Remnants from the battle for SingaporeThere is still regular unearthing of WW2 projectiles in Singapore. This recent one from Rifle Range Road<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LB9r-KG1uvU/VYwandC167I/AAAAAAAB1MY/FC2C4F0caFY/s640/blogger-image-1352339329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LB9r-KG1uvU/VYwandC167I/AAAAAAAB1MY/FC2C4F0caFY/s640/blogger-image-1352339329.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3dzkAaH_4-g/VYwalHKBTLI/AAAAAAAB1MQ/AD8autM6-2M/s640/blogger-image--796538860.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3dzkAaH_4-g/VYwalHKBTLI/AAAAAAAB1MQ/AD8autM6-2M/s640/blogger-image--796538860.jpg"></a></div>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-53379911325228646192015-06-19T12:53:00.000+08:002015-06-19T12:53:15.305+08:00Evacuation from Singapore by the USS West Point<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Singapore evacuee John Kirkham pointed me to this fascinating summary on Wikipedia regarding the ship he and his mother was on being the UUSS West Point</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Having completed her discharge by 31 December 1941, <i>West Point</i> anchored in the stream on the morning of 2 January 1942 and awaited further orders until 4 January, when British authorities asked Captain Kelley, of <i>West Point</i>, if his ship and <i>Wakefield</i> could be brought under <span style="border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 170, 0); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; cursor: help;" tag="converted_text" title="360 inches
10 yards
0.005682 miles
9144 millimeters
914.4 centimeters
9.144 meters
0.009144 kilometers
">30-foot</span> (9.1 m) draught to make passage for Singapore. Kelley responded that it could be done, but this would entail discharging ballast and expelling some of the ship's <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fresh_water" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Fresh water">fresh water</a> supply—thus endangering the ship's stability.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Due to prevailing low-water conditions at Bombay at this point, neither <i>West Point</i> nor <i>Wakefield</i> could go alongside piers in the harbor to either load equipment or troops. Thus, the embarkation and loading procedures had to be carried out by the tedious process of embarking troops and loading supplies from smaller ships and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lighter_(barge)" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Lighter (barge)">lighters</a> brought alongside. <i>Wakefield</i>embarked – almost to a man – the troops which she had brought from Halifax, a total of 4,506, while <i>West Point</i> embarked two-thirds of the troops which she had transported, in addition to some which had come out in other ships. All told, she carried some 5,272 men.</span></div>
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<a class="image" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:USS_West_Point_AP-23_1945.jpg" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img alt="" class="thumbimage" data-file-height="573" data-file-width="740" height="170" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/3c/USS_West_Point_AP-23_1945.jpg/220px-USS_West_Point_AP-23_1945.jpg" srcset="//upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/3c/USS_West_Point_AP-23_1945.jpg/330px-USS_West_Point_AP-23_1945.jpg 1.5x, //upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/3c/USS_West_Point_AP-23_1945.jpg/440px-USS_West_Point_AP-23_1945.jpg 2x" style="border: 1px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); vertical-align: middle;" width="220" /></span></a><div class="thumbcaption" style="border: none; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.4em; padding: 3px; text-align: left;">
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<a class="internal" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:USS_West_Point_AP-23_1945.jpg" style="-webkit-user-select: none; background-image: linear-gradient(transparent, transparent), url(data:image/svg+xml,%3C%3Fxml%20version%3D%221.0%22%20encoding%3D%22UTF-8%22%20standalone%3D%22no%22%3F%3E%0A%3Csvg%20xmlns%3D%22http%3A%2F%2Fwww.w3.org%2F2000%2Fsvg%22%20viewBox%3D%220%200%2011%2015%22%20width%3D%2215%22%20height%3D%2211%22%3E%0A%20%20%20%20%3Cg%20id%3D%22magnify-clip%22%20fill%3D%22%23fff%22%20stroke%3D%22%23000%22%3E%0A%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%3Cpath%20id%3D%22bigbox%22%20d%3D%22M1.509%201.865h10.99v7.919h-10.99z%22%2F%3E%0A%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%20%3Cpath%20id%3D%22smallbox%22%20d%3D%22M-1.499%206.868h5.943v4.904h-5.943z%22%2F%3E%0A%20%20%20%20%3C%2Fg%3E%0A%3C%2Fsvg%3E%0A); display: block; height: 11px; overflow: hidden; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 15px; white-space: nowrap; width: 15px;" title="Enlarge"></a></div>
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">USS <i>West Point</i> arriving at New York with troops from Europe, July 1945.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><i>West Point</i> sailed for Singapore on 9 January, in a "15-knot" convoy, with Captain Kelley as the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Convoy_Commodore" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Convoy Commodore">Convoy Commodore</a>. In addition to the two American ships, three British transports – <i>Duchess of Bedford</i>, <i><a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RMS_Empress_of_Japan_(1930)" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="RMS Empress of Japan (1930)">Empress of Japan</a></i>, and <i>Empire Star</i> – made up the remainder of the van. Escorted by British <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Light_cruiser" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Light cruiser">light cruiser</a> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Caledon_(D53)" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="HMS Caledon (D53)">HMS <i>Caledon</i></a> until this ship was relieved by light cruiser <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Glasgow_(C21)" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="HMS Glasgow (C21)">HMS <i>Glasgow</i></a> at 1630 on 22 January, the convoy's escort soon swelled to three cruisers and four destroyers as the convoy neared <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Java_(island)" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Java (island)">Java</a>. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Empire_of_Japan" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Empire of Japan">Japanese</a> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Submarine" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Submarine">submarine</a> activities near the Indonesian <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Archipelago" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Archipelago">archipelago</a> prompted concern for the safe arrival of the valuable ships, hence a <span style="border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 170, 0); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; cursor: help;" tag="converted_text" title="12672000 inches
1056000 feet
352000 yards
321868800 millimeters
32186880 centimeters
321868.8 meters
321.8688 kilometers
">200-mile</span> (<span style="border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 170, 0); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; cursor: help;" tag="converted_text" title="12598425.19685 inches
1049868.766404 feet
349956.255468 yards
198.838782 miles
320000000 millimeters
32000000 centimeters
320000 meters
">320 km</span>) detour through the shallow, coral-studded <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sunda_Strait" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Sunda Strait">Sunda Strait</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Led by British <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cruiser" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Cruiser">cruiser</a> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Exeter_(68)" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="HMS Exeter (68)">HMS <i>Exeter</i></a>, the ships slowed to 10 knots (<span style="border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 170, 0); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; cursor: help;" tag="converted_text" title="748031.496063 inches
62335.958005 feet
20778.652668 yards
11.806053 miles
19000000 millimeters
1900000 centimeters
19000 meters
">19 km</span>/h), and streaming <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paravane_(weapon)" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Paravane (weapon)">paravane</a> gear, began the passage. An escorting destroyer steamed between each transport, as they steamed in single-column order. It was a dangerous passing, a small divergence from the charted course could mean a disastrous grounding.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">The screen's commander, Captain <a class="new" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Oliver_L._Gordon&action=edit&redlink=1" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Oliver L. Gordon (page does not exist)">Oliver L. Gordon</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_Navy" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Royal Navy">R.N.</a>, commanding <i>Exeter</i>, desired to arrive at Singapore with as many ships as possible by dawn on 29 January, and thus split the convoy up, sending the faster vessels—<i>West Point</i>, <i>Wakefield</i>, and <i>Empress of Japan</i>—ahead at increased speed under escort of cruisers HMS <i>Exeter</i>, HMS <i>Durban</i>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Dragon_(D46)" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="HMS Dragon (D46)">HMS <i>Dragon</i></a>, and destroyers <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Express_(H61)" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="HMS Express (H61)">HMS <i>Express</i></a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Electra_(H27)" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="HMS Electra (H27)">HMS <i>Electra</i></a>. Proceeding to Singapore via Berhala Strait, Durian Strait, and Philips Channel, the group steamed through these bodies of water in bright moonlight which made navigational aids unnecessary. Upon their arrival off Singapore, the ships lay to in an exposed position, beyond the range of shore-based antiaircraft guns, until pilots could be obtained to bring the ships in. Since the naval base came under daily heavy air raids, the transports proceeded to <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keppel_Harbor" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Keppel Harbor">Keppel Harbor</a>, the commercial basin at Singapore, where they could discharge their troops and cargo.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Securing abreast godowns (warehouses) 52, 53, and 54, <i>West Point</i> commenced off-loading equipment and disembarking her troops. All but 670 engineer troops, who had been ordered retained on board, were ashore before nightfall. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Airstrike" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Airstrike">Air raids</a>, meanwhile, continued until midnight as the Japanese steadily pounded Singapore from the air. At each alert, the local workers working dockside would vanish, taking to the shelters and leaving the vital cargo still unloaded. As a result, the unloading was carried out by the crew of <i>West Point</i>, her embarked troops, and 22 local workers who were brought aboard to assist.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">On 30 January, seven Japanese bombers appeared over the city and were engaged by British <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brewster_Buffalo" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Brewster Buffalo">Brewster Buffalo</a> fighters. As the alert continued, 30 more Japanese planes appeared overhead, on course over Keppel Harbor. Several bombs fell on shore, eastward of <i>West Point's</i> moorings, while another stick fell in the water to the southward. In the interim, bombs hit other targets. A small tanker moored near <i>Wakefield</i> was sunk at dockside; bombs fell abreast <i>Empress of Japan</i>; and <i>Wakefield</i> took a direct hit forward which destroyed her sick bay, killed five men and wounded nine. The last bombs in this stick straddled <i>West Point</i> and showered her with shrapnel. As the raid lifted, <i>West Point</i> sent two medical officers and 11 <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hospital_Corpsman" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Hospital Corpsman">corpsmen</a> on board<i>Wakefield</i>, at the latter's request, to render medical assistance.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Later that morning, Captain Kelley attended a conference with British authorities, who informed him that his ship was to be used to carry a contingent of Australian troops from <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suez" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Suez">Suez</a> to Singapore and to transport refugees and evacuees to <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ceylon" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Ceylon">Ceylon</a>. With the emergency "acute", Kelley agreed to take on board up to one thousand women and children and such additional men as the British desired to send. With the abandonment of the naval dockyard, untenable in the face of increasingly heavier Japanese bombardments from artillery and aircraft, several dockyard naval and civilian personnel and their families were assigned to <i>West Point</i> for evacuation. Most carried only hand baggage; had little, if any, money; but were all fortunate enough to escape the doomed city before its fall to the onrushing Japanese troops of <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/General_Yamashita" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="General Yamashita">General Yamashita</a>. All told, some 1,276 naval officers, their families, dockyard civilians, civilian evacuees, a 16-man <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_Air_Force" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Royal Air Force">Royal Air Force</a> (RAF) contingent, and 225 naval ratings made up the 1,276 people embarked by 1800 on 30 January.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Clearing Singapore, <i>West Point</i> and <i>Wakefield</i> headed due west, escorted by HMS <i>Durban</i>. Overcast and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Squall" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Squall">squally</a> weather covered their departure and permitted them to transit the Banka Strait unmolested by the seemingly omnipresent Japanese aircraft. Routed to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jakarta" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Jakarta">Batavia</a>, Java, to embark more refugees, <i>West Point</i> led <i>Wakefield</i> and <i>Durban</i> through the minefields and anchored in Batavia Roads at 0305 on 31 January. HMS <i>Electra</i>—which would be lost in the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_the_Java_Sea" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Battle of the Java Sea">Battle of the Java Sea</a> 27 February—came alongside eight hours later and transferred 20 naval dockyard personnel, three women, five naval officers' wives, one <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free_French_Forces" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Free French Forces">Free French</a> officer, and an RAF officer to <i>West Point</i> for passage to Ceylon.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">At 1240 on 1 February, <i>West Point</i>—in company with <i>Wakefield</i> and under escort of <i>Exeter</i>, HMS <i>Encounter</i>, and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMAS_Vampire_(D68)" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="HMAS Vampire (D68)">HMAS <i>Vampire</i></a>—got underway. The destroyers eventually went off to perform other duties, and <i>Exeter</i> as well soon dropped away to escort another convoy, leaving the two big troopships on their own. While they were en route, disconcerting news came over the radio. Japanese I-boats (identified after the war as I-162 and I-153) had been active in the vicinity, sinking six ships between them. <i>West Point</i> acquired an extra passenger while en route; for, on 4 February, a baby boy was born on board.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Colombo Harbor, Ceylon, where they arrived on 6 January, was so crowded that British authorities could not permit <i>Wakefield</i> to repair her damage there. The passengers, in turn, experienced much difficulty in arranging for suitable transportation ashore. In addition, neither transport could fully provision.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">British authorities requested the American ships to evacuate personnel to Bombay. Accordingly, <i>West Point</i> took on board eight men, 55 women, and 53 children, as well as 670 troops, for passage to India. <i>Wakefield</i>, despite her weakened condition caused by the direct hit on 29 January, embarked two naval ratings, six RAF personnel, and 25 men and one officer of a British Bofors gun detachment. The two ships departed Colombo on 8 February and, escorted by the Greek destroyer <i>Queen Olga</i>, proceeded at 20 knots (<span style="border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 170, 0); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; cursor: help;" tag="converted_text" title="1456692.913386 inches
121391.076115 feet
40463.692038 yards
22.990734 miles
37000000 millimeters
3700000 centimeters
37000 meters
">37 km</span>/h). Captain Kelley later highly praised the operations of this sole escort. Although heavy weather was encountered en route, the elderly Greek destroyer acquitted herself well, continuing to patrol her station "at all times at high speed ahead of our zig-zag."</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">After discharging her evacuees at Bombay, <i>West Point</i> parted company with <i>Wakefield</i> and proceeded to Suez where she picked up Australian troops who were being withdrawn from the<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/North_African_Campaign" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="North African Campaign">North African Campaign</a> to fight the Japanese in Southeast Asia. Meanwhile, one disaster after another had plagued the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allies_of_World_War_II" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Allies of World War II">Allied forces</a>. Singapore fell on 15 February; Java on 4 March. <i>West Point</i> carried her embarked troops to Australia and disembarked them at <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adelaide" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Adelaide">Adelaide</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Melbourne" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Melbourne">Melbourne</a> before heading across the Pacific toward San Francisco.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">As the Allies built up for the long road back, <i>West Point</i> participated in the effort to aid America's allies in the southwest Pacific with massive contingents of troops. Accordingly, the transport carried men to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wellington" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Wellington">Wellington</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Zealand" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="New Zealand">New Zealand</a>, and arrived on 30 May. There, she received orders to return to New York; and she got underway from Melbourne on 8 June, bound for the Panama Canal. She entered the Atlantic on 26 June and arrived at New York on 2 July.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">After two voyages to the United Kingdom, <i>West Point</i> sailed for India, via the South Atlantic route, and arrived at Bombay on 29 November, before pushing on for <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auckland" style="background-image: none; text-decoration: none;" title="Auckland">Auckland</a>, New Zealand, the following month.</span></div>
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David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-82204600341461238072015-05-09T20:47:00.001+08:002015-05-09T20:47:14.669+08:00<a href="https://www.facebook.com/regimentalbooks/posts/10153272666439524:0">https://www.facebook.com/regimentalbooks/posts/10153272666439524:0</a>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com68tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-67539252273900255242015-05-07T22:25:00.001+08:002015-05-07T22:25:42.996+08:00Squadron Leader Scarf wins VC in single handed attack<a href="http://ww2today.com/9th-december-1941-squadron-leader-arthur-scarf-makes-single-handed-attack-against-impossible-odds#sthash.LVAxdper.cmfs">Squadron Leader Scarf wins VC in single handed attack</a>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-57791143214711315262015-03-03T12:14:00.001+08:002015-03-03T12:14:40.839+08:00WW2 era map of SingaporeThis map was recently sold on eBay in the US - I wish I had seen it before sale!<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dBchV_OQPZI/VPU1Li6TVmI/AAAAAAABTA8/8st0BbuhvJI/s640/blogger-image-963106053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dBchV_OQPZI/VPU1Li6TVmI/AAAAAAABTA8/8st0BbuhvJI/s640/blogger-image-963106053.jpg"></a></div>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-39863261233181911502015-02-06T09:53:00.001+08:002015-02-06T09:53:26.083+08:001942 British Bunker to be opened to the public<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<strong><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Melody Zaccheus<br />The Straits Times<br />28 January 2015</span></strong></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Hidden behind lock and key lies a 1942 British bunker where explosives were stored. Back then, carts on a railway track would send ammunition into the underground bomb-proof facility.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">About the size of two five-room flats, the well-preserved structure will open to the public for the first time in more than seven decades next month. The National Heritage Board (NHB) announced today that it will be conducting eight English and two Chinese tours of the Armament Depot.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">It is part of their efforts to commemorate Singapore's fall to the Japanese 73 years ago and its subsequent liberation three years later.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">The bunker is the last of six others that used to dot Talbot's Hill in Woodlands. It is nestled in a dense forest that comes with a clear coastal view of Johor Bahru in Malaysia. The ammunition supported the British Naval Base's operations nearby. The historic site was later used by the Japanese to store their own ammunition which included anti-aircraft weapons and rifles.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Reaching the bunker requires a trek through muddy water and careful navigation across thick vegetation and creeping vines.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">The bunker lies behind two large steel doors and a pool of water where small fishes dwell, has to be crossed first before one can get to the the dim facility.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">The site was handed over to the Ministry of Defence in 1971. The ministry called it the Sembawang Ammunition Depot and gave it a fresh coat of paint. It was decommissioned in 2002 and both the bunker and the land were returned to the state.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">NHB's group director of policy Alvin Tan said: "We hope that Singaporeans will get to learn more about World War II history and remember the wartime bravery, resilience and sacrifices of soldiers, Prisoners of War and civilians through these activities."</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Each NHB tour can take about 25 people and members of the public can start booking slots on Thursday. More information will be released on the board's website and Facebook page. Some of the artefacts will go on display in a separate exhibition later this month.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Take a look at the gallery below to see images of the bunker.</span></div>
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David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-27680478707141789002015-01-25T12:42:00.001+08:002015-01-25T12:42:39.091+08:00Veteran Raymond Fuller 88 visiting Kranji last week<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-OmwLkwNoUxI/VMR0PWfXiBI/AAAAAAABS8A/PdTySK4z93E/s640/blogger-image--96580091.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-OmwLkwNoUxI/VMR0PWfXiBI/AAAAAAABS8A/PdTySK4z93E/s640/blogger-image--96580091.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-vqozbb9rgfI/VMR0MPOrW6I/AAAAAAABS74/zgn9Jdk5_io/s640/blogger-image-374865971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-vqozbb9rgfI/VMR0MPOrW6I/AAAAAAABS74/zgn9Jdk5_io/s640/blogger-image-374865971.jpg"></a></div>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-79261519062396007292014-08-16T16:51:00.000+08:002014-08-16T16:51:37.222+08:00History Channel Documentary - Remembering Jaywick <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It was a real honor to have the opportunity to be involved with the History Channel & Hurrah productions documentary on Operation Jaywick - the story of the commandos who blew up 30,000 tons of Japanese shipping in Singapore Harbor. It is an incredible story and I was delighted to have been one of the people on the program given the opportunity to help share it. Lest we forget<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/GWu_DFOdzng?rel=0" width="560"></iframe></div>
David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-72394211420232455372014-08-16T16:41:00.001+08:002014-08-16T16:41:10.769+08:00Mick Brundle's father on the Kuala<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Mick </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Brundle writes.... I just found your blog!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">My Father was on The <span class="il" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">Kuala</span> as well and his account of his escape from Singapore, the bombing of the <span class="il" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">Kuala</span> and his subsequent escape to India is in the Imperial War Museum archive: Document 9410. The contents on their website reads:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; line-height: 16px;"><span style="color: white;">'A very interesting ts memoir (38pp), compiled in 1995, describing his employment as an assistant architect in the Malayan Public Works Department, 1938 - 1941, including his involvement in various defence construction projects and his service in the Straits Settlements Volunteer Force, his impressions of conditions and morale in Singapore in early February 1942, the circumstances of the controversial issue to him and other PWD personnel of official 'evacuation passes' on 13 February, his embarkation on the SS <span class="il" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">KUALA</span>, her sinking by Japanese aircraft in the Bangka Straits on 14 February, his experiences while stranded on Pom Pong island with other survivors from sunken ships, his onward voyage by small boat to Sumatra and overland journey to the west coast port of Padang from which he was evacuated on 1 March on the cruiser HMAS HOBART to Ceylon. Mr Brundle's copy of the official evacuation diary (pp 1 -4 only) of the PWD party from 13 - 27 February is appended to the memoir and is also reproduced in its text.'</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; line-height: 16px;"><span style="color: white;">My father died some years back, he went back to Singapore after the defeat of Japan , where I was born and lived until independence.</span></span></div>
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David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-89511468554539858882014-08-16T16:09:00.000+08:002014-08-16T16:09:14.939+08:00Japan's blitz on Penninsula Malaysia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/HUzyyn0h0o" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ET--Tjr0SKE/TiJQX4L4T3I/AAAAAAAAdrs/zUQ8zzjykWs/s512/malaya_map_500.jpg" /></a></div>
David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-30113477891709322372014-08-16T11:58:00.001+08:002014-08-16T11:58:25.155+08:00Norman 'Nobby' Clark<div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My good friend Michael Pether writes from New Zealand...I recall when in Singapore a couple of years ago you took photographs of the original “Straits Times” I had with me covering the Japanese Surrender in 194. It was a copy kept by my grandfather ( Norman ‘Nobby’ Clark) who had been in Changi and Sime Road Camps and who was there on the day – he has actually marked himself on the photo on the last page. He was a n engineer at the Government Rice Mills in Singapore and had camped out in the Central Fire Station as an incorrectly classified ‘neutral in Japanese occupied Singaporefor five months until rounded up in July 1942.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/--vnYLMOO-IA/U-7W0vzF--I/AAAAAAABSfA/AubQd-UsBFM/s640/blogger-image-63145446.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/--vnYLMOO-IA/U-7W0vzF--I/AAAAAAABSfA/AubQd-UsBFM/s640/blogger-image-63145446.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-L2RanZnolSk/U-7W3me1QCI/AAAAAAABSfI/0d6rp6PDI1M/s640/blogger-image-1319864006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-L2RanZnolSk/U-7W3me1QCI/AAAAAAABSfI/0d6rp6PDI1M/s640/blogger-image-1319864006.jpg"></a></div>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-29403212868314623762014-07-08T01:16:00.000+08:002014-07-08T01:16:28.256+08:00Fascinating Singapore article in the warfare magazine <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<article class="new_header" data-col="1" data-contentid="640" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoMedium, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px 0px 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; text-transform: uppercase; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">CONJUROR ON THE KWAI</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="641" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">By Peter Fyans</span></span><div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Extracted from <a href="">Captivity, Slavery and Survival as a Far East POW</a>, reproduced by permission of Pen and Sword Books.</span></span></div>
</article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="642" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">When the Second World War broke out, Gus Anckorn joined the 118th Royal Artillery Field regiment and trained as a gun lorry driver. Being a member of the Magic Circle from a young age, Gus became well-known as he entertained fellow soldiers across the country with his tricks throughout the war. In 1942, his unit was sent to Singapore to fight the Japanese where he narrowly escaped death before being taken prisoner.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="643" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">In the early hours of 13 February 1942, I was detailed to take a message to our battery commander in the command post, which was far across the other side of a field behind us. To get to his position I had to cross the field under fire with shells landing all around. The field had become pitted with shell holes already and it was a matter of darting from one indent to another in haphazard fashion, making progress broadly in the right direction. The last run was the longest and as I ran, the sound of an incoming shell prompted me to run my guts out until at last, a trench around the command post opened up before me and I dived headlong into it. My momentum was so great that my body went head over heels into the trench, ending with me upside down with legs and torso up over the opposite side. Gathering myself quickly, I scrambled out of the trench and addressed the battery commander. I knew him as a most charming man who was a bank manager in civilian life and now he had become a good soldier too, but when I got to him, his nerve was faltering. He had his pistol in hand and appeared wide-eyed with terror. Beside him, I recognised Sergeant Ludgater holding a Bren gun.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="646" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Moments later, the Battery Commander was startled by what he thought was something moving in a nearby tree. He started firing his pistol into it and Sergeant Ludgater turned and emptied his Bren gun into it too. The leafy branches of the tree were shredded, but no Jap fell out of it. It was then that I noticed Sergeant Ludgater was fully spruced up in uniform, which was odd, given the battle going on around us. It turned out that he had been detailed for evacuation later that day. We didn’t know it at the time but our High Command had issued orders for parties of men, selected for their specialism and likely future contribution to the war, to be sent to HQ for a ‘special mission’. That special mission was to escape from the island by whatever means possible, before Singapore was lost.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="647" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Later that morning, my gun took a near miss and was put out of action. I was detailed to go to the ordnance depot back at the polo ground to get a replacement. As we were now fairly close to Singapore town itself, it wasn’t far to go, but how I did it without a map, I’ll never know. The odd thing too was that I had no fear, despite the intensity of the battle going on and the likelihood of running into the advancing Japs. It really was the case that, in action, as long as there was something to do, there was no fear. Concentration took over. But was I, in General Wavell’s view, ‘Willing to die’? No, absolutely not! I was determined to fight and to live!</span></span></article><article class="image" data-col="1" data-contentid="648" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; text-align: center;"><a class="theatre_image" data-image-id="648" data-image-type="article" data-image="20120423125720.jpg" href="http://www.warfaremagazine.co.uk/articles/the-fall-of-singapore-1942/26#!" style="background-color: black; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: white;"><img alt="image" src="http://www.warfaremagazine.co.uk/assets/images/articles/medium/20120423125720.jpg" style="border: 0px; max-width: 100%;" /></span></a></article><article class="new_caption" data-col="1" data-contentid="649" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; text-align: center; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Gun, timber and lorry. Training in 1941.</span></span><div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span></div>
</article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="650" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">In any event, there was no trouble with Japs or Jap shelling on the way down to the depot and picking up the gun was straightforward. In no time at all, I was ready for the return but, as none of us had eaten much for two days and nights, I made a beeline for the canteen before leaving to see what I could find to take back. The cooks had a large dixie tin full of chopped beetroot sitting on a table in preparation for the day’s lunch. It was the only thing handy so I persuaded them to let me run it back to the battery, where our need was greater than theirs, I assured them – although beetroot was probably not what everybody was longing for.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="651" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘You’re from the 118th, aren’t you?’ he asked.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="652" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘Yes,’ I said.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="653" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘Well, you’re taking this back with you,’ he said, as he carelessly hefted the shell and complained that gun loaders should do their job better in our battery. The shell had been jammed in the breech of the gun that I was now taking back and of course, removing it was no laughing matter as it could explode in the process. Normally, they would have carefully followed a set procedure for removing the shell and then the cartridge would have been separated off so that the bags of cordite could be extracted and the shell made safe. But he was about to hand me the complete shell, cartridge and all, and as he hefted it, I could see from the nose cone that it was primed to go off on impact, too.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="654" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘I’m not!’ I said. ‘That thing’s fused for impact – you don’t expect me to drive with that?’</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="655" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘You’re taking it, and that’s an order!’ he bawled, adding in his bloody-mindedness that it would teach us to be more careful.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="656" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘I’m not, and that’s a fact!’ was my insolent reply, and I started to drive to the gate. Somehow, when you’re in action and your life is at stake, instinct takes over and rank doesn’t come into it any more.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="657" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">When I stopped at the gate the sergeant appeared again, cradling the shell in his left arm. He simply came up to the lorry, opened my door with his free hand and dumped the shell in my lap. Slamming the door shut, he walked off without a word.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="658" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Dumbfounded and not wanting to disturb the damn thing, it seemed the best thing to do was just drive. So off I went – gingerly, carrying the live shell in my lap and chopped beetroot on the seat beside me.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="659" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">On the way back I spotted bombers in the sky – but not heading in my direction. I kept my eye on them. A neat formation of twenty-seven – did they always come in twenty-sevens? Further up the road there was one of our anti-aircraft guns, which fired a single shot as I passed. I presumed it was a ranging shot because nothing happened and the aircraft continued. Then suddenly, the lead bomber exploded and every kind of coloured light came out of it, as if it had been packed with Verey lights or something. It was like a firework display. The plane then went straight up, vertical, before flipping over onto its back and starting to fall, head-first, like a stone – flat-out – must have been <span style="border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 170, 0); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; cursor: help;" tag="converted_text" title="12672000 inches
1056000 feet
352000 yards
321868800 millimeters
32186880 centimeters
321868.8 meters
321.8688 kilometers
">200 miles</span> an hour when it hit the ground. Wham! As he was coming down, all the other bombers appeared to turn around and go home. I’d heard that the lead bomber in a Jap formation was always the master bomber who gave the orders to the others in ‘follow the leader’ fashion, so without him, presumably, that was it, they’d have to go home. I cheered out loud in my cab at such good shooting by our lot.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="660" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">I’d gone another couple of miles and was nearly back to our gun position when I became aware of people diving into ditches along my route. I’d decided before this trip that if I saw men diving into ditches like that, I’d stop the lorry and do the same. But I couldn’t see any more aircraft around so I just carried on. The fact was, the bombers were behind me and I was their target! Whether it was the same formation of bombers I’d seen earlier or not, I’ll never know, but with complete mastery of the skies the Japs could probably just look around for their targets at will. I was a sitting duck, still in desert camouflage, wandering along the road, trailing a gun. When the bombs started falling and exploding behind me, my foot went to the floor on the accelerator but it was no good – I got the lot!</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="661" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">The noise was deafening and absolutely terrifying. The lorry was lurching about and metal was flying around my cabin. I had thought the cabin of the lorry might give me some protection but now it was more like a biscuit tin, tossed around on the road by the erupting earth and skewered in a thousand places by shrapnel. Suddenly there was a voice and it was shouting, ‘Stop! Stop the lorry! Stop the lorry!’ It was my own voice. After kangarooing down the road like some demented victim of prey, the lorry juddered to a stop on its own, arrested by the weight of the gun behind it. Instinctively, I thought to get out and away from the lorry and as I moved to do so, I saw through my side window an image that has indelibly planted itself on my memory ever since. In a strange, mystical slow motion, I was looking at a bomb coming down less than <span style="border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 170, 0); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; cursor: help;" tag="converted_text" title="120 inches
3 1/3 yards
0.001894 miles
3048 millimeters
304.8 centimeters
3.048 meters
0.003048 kilometers
">10 feet</span> away – so close, I could have put my hand out and caught it. The rivets on it were plain to see and Japanese lettering, too. I saw the tailfins and a long spike on the front of the bomb as it went into the ground. I saw the bomb begin to explode as flames shot out the back of it. Unbelievably, I saw all this and in that instant, thought, ‘I’m dead!’</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="662" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">There was a deafening blast as the lorry lurched violently again and I was engulfed in what sounded like metal hailstones from what must have been an anti-personnel bomb. I knew I was getting wounded but it didn’t seem to hurt. The bombardment went on and on and on and I began to pray that something would get me straight in the head and make it quick. Then the mayhem stopped and instead of wanting to die, I wanted to live again!</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="663" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">The air was thick with dust and the lorry was leaning over on the passenger’s side. I looked at myself and it seemed I was still in one piece. Then I realised the shell was no longer in my lap. I looked about franticly and saw at the back of me, a huge hole, going up through the lockers and the roof. Surely the shell couldn’t have gone off and left me in one piece? That sergeant at the depot must have been pulling my leg, it can’t have been live at all. I moved to open my door and get out but found my right hand hanging off. There was no pain but it was completely unresponsive and whatever had done the damage had also gone through my arm as well and opened an artery. Blood was everywhere. I knew I must get out quick and so I lay over on the seat and kicked at the door with my feet until it swung open. Legs first, I dropped out into swirling dust not knowing where I’d be landing. Before I hit the ground, my left leg was jolted up suddenly and a spasm of pain went through me. Something had penetrated the back of my knee and a strange thought came into my head – ‘they’re actually attacking me! They’re trying to kill me!’ A gunner like me is usually some distance away from direct action and so this very personal reality of killing had never dawned on me. The horror of it propelled me onwards, despite my injuries. Somehow, I was up on my feet running at full pelt away from the lorry through thick smoke and dust not knowing where on earth I was going and as I went, it felt as though I had an orange box wrapped round my left foot. It must have been the effect of the bullet or whatever it was. Then, out of nowhere, one of our gun sergeants appeared. He ran alongside me shouting ‘Where are you going?’ and took hold of my arm. ‘I don’t know!’ I shouted back. Then he seemed to veer off and disappear into the smoke, whereupon I fell straight into a monsoon ditch and passed out.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="664" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">It has never been particularly significant to me but it was pointed out sometime later that I’d been bombed on Friday, 13 February at 1300 hrs! I lay there out cold and during this time, there was all sorts of goings on, apparently.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="665" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">The whole event had occurred near enough to our gun position for my troop to see what happened. So near, in fact, that once the bombs had stopped falling and the smoke and dust had thinned out a bit, some of the men ran down to the lorry – but not out of concern for me. No. Besides checking the gun itself, which turned out to be useless, they probably just wanted their gear out of the lockers in the back of the cabin. When they got there, they found all the lockers smashed up, blood all over the place and lumps of purple soft mush sliding down what was left of the windscreen. One of them was apparently physically sick and when they returned, they’d said to the others, ‘Poor Gus. He got a right packet! Not much left of him and what there is – well, it’s all over the cabin.’ They couldn’t have known it but what they’d actually seen, of course, was the beetroot that I’d collected from the ordnance yard, mixed with all the blood that had gushed from my arm and wrist. They obviously didn’t see me lying in the ditch.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="666" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">However, Bombardier Porter, from my battery, did. He wasn’t with the others. He had been nominated for the same ‘special mission’ as Sergeant Ludgater and was on his way to headquarters in Singapore town when he came across me lying in the ditch. Seeing that I was seriously wounded and likely to die, he took my dog tags, both of them, in order to report my status. It was his report that eventually filtered back to my parents almost a year later, when they were notified by the War Office that they had received an unconfirmed report of me being wounded on 13 February 1942. The War Office note went on to say that, whilst endeavours were being made to confirm the report and the nature of my injuries, they would continue to post me as ‘missing in action’.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="667" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">By some means or another, men from my battery did find me before it was too late. I regained consciousness whilst being dragged back to our gun positions by Bombardier Buck. Once there, he got me strapped up with a tourniquet and a lorry arrived out of nowhere, driven by our gun sergeant. He was going to take me to a field hospital but they couldn’t get me inside the lorry for some reason, so instead, they decided to lay me in the slot between the wing and the engine housing. Gun Sergeant O’Neill, then proceeded to drive off at full speed. The pain was just awful and I kept trying to distract myself from it. It seemed odd that the sergeant was driving – he should be working the guns, I thought – but perhaps more of them were out of action by now. He was crunching the gears and straining the engine as the journey went on and on, during which I drifted in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, machine-gun fire started coming at us from the roadside and something cut my nose and thudded into the engine next to my face. The lorry shuddered to a halt. We were at a standstill in the middle of the road with bullets coming at us from all over the place. None of this seemed to worry me – I was out of it, half dead anyway.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="668" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">But then I felt myself being manhandled again, off the lorry and into a Red Cross ambulance that had drawn up, despite the mayhem. Inside were four other wounded men. We had an Indian driver who slammed the thing into gear and raced off as fast as he could. Within seconds, it seemed, we were being shelled and then the ambulance swerved violently before coming to a stop. The other four wounded opened the doors and cleared off, leaving me inside, scarcely able to move and looking out on an open field near some housing that we had come to rest in. The shelling had stopped and there was no sign of the driver. Time passed and despite the open doors, the heat inside became intense under the blistering afternoon sun. My breathing was getting faster and my mouth stuck together when I swallowed. It felt like I’d been placed in an oven. I attempted to move and get myself out of it. But then the Indian driver suddenly appeared, thrusting something at me and shouting, ‘Water, sahib, water!’</span></span></article><article class="image" data-col="1" data-contentid="669" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; text-align: center;"><a class="theatre_image" data-image-id="669" data-image-type="article" data-image="20120423132849.jpg" href="http://www.warfaremagazine.co.uk/articles/the-fall-of-singapore-1942/26#!" style="background-color: black; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: white;"><img alt="image" src="http://www.warfaremagazine.co.uk/assets/images/articles/medium/20120423132849.jpg" style="border: 0px; max-width: 100%;" /></span></a></article><article class="new_caption" data-col="1" data-contentid="670" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; text-align: center; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Alexandra Military Hospital, Singapore.</span></span><div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span></div>
</article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="671" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">I must have passed out again because the next thing I was aware of was being dragged across a street that was lined with buildings. When we reached the kerb of the pavement, my feet clanged into it and pain shot up my body as the dragging continued until we entered a building that turned out to be a huge post office filled with wounded men. A surgeon was using the post office counter as an operating table and perhaps because I was bleeding so heavily, they lifted me straight onto it.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="672" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘I’m sorry, son,’ I heard the surgeon say, ‘I can’t save your hand, it’s got to come off.’</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="673" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">I mumbled back, ‘Well get on with it and save me.’</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="674" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">An orderly put some gauze over my face and splashed ether on it, at which point I reacted violently, shaking my head to get clear of the suffocating gauze. Then the orderly seemed to recognise me. ‘Aren’t you the conjuror we saw in Liverpool?'</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="675" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Still spluttering, I said that I was and the orderly immediately appealed to the surgeon. ‘You can’t cut his hand off, Sir, he’s a conjuror!'</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="676" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Before I blacked out, I heard the surgeon say, ‘Well, I’ll see what I can do.'</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="677" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Whatever he did I wasn’t to know, as the next time I became properly conscious again, I was in a crowded hospital ward with my arm strapped up and hung from a hook above my bed. On the end of my arm all I could see was a large dressing like a huge boxing glove. I didn’t know if it was an hour, a day or a week later.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="678" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">It was the morning of the 14 February and I was in the Alexandra Military hospital. The ward was crammed with wounded. So much so that men lay on camp beds either side of me. I was desperate to know if I still had my hand or not, because I couldn’t feel anything on the end of my arm and I couldn’t see anything either with the arm being held up in the air by the hook. I asked the man on my right.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="679" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘Have I still got a right hand – can you see for me?'</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="680" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">He struggled to get himself up and eventually he was able to see.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="681" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘This little piggy went to market...’ he started but he didn’t need to go on. The relief in my mind was sensational!</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="682" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Time passed with comings and goings of staff in the ward and I drifted in and out of consciousness. There were increasing sounds of gunfire and explosions each time I awoke but nothing seemed to matter anymore and I began to think I must be dying. But with each bout of consciousness, pain was intensifying – as well as my thirst.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="683" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">A couple of times when I awoke, there didn’t seem to be any staff anymore and then I caught sight of an orderly coming down the ward, hurriedly putting up blackout boards on the windows even though it was daylight. The sound of shelling and gunfire was all about. Someone else was running up the ward. I heard myself making a sort of growling noise and a voice next to my bed was calling out, ‘Doctor, Doctor... do something here... he’s bleeding like hell!’ My blood had apparently been dripping down on the man below me. The running footsteps arrived at my bed and my strapped-up arm was lowered from the hook and the tourniquet was adjusted. Excruciating pain rushed through my upper body as my arm was placed across my chest, and I passed out again.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="684" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">It must have been around this time that Japanese soldiers made their entry into the hospital grounds and into the hospital itself. It is now well recorded that about 100 soldiers in full battle gear assaulted the hospital, just before 1430 hrs that day, firing at those who came out of the hospital to protest Red Cross immunity and bayoneting staff as they came across them. When they arrived in the theatre block, they set about killing indiscriminately, including a patient under anaesthetic on the operating table. One of the surgeons, Captain Smiley, took a bayonet in his chest but it was deflected from his heart by a cigarette case in his breast pocket. The soldier thrust again but the captain this time deflected it with his arm and it went into his groin. Two more thrusts followed, knocking the captain into an orderly and they both fell to the ground with Captain Smiley on top. He whispered to the orderly to play dead and the soldiers left. After they’d gone, the orderly tended to the surgeon’s wounds and he not only lived but immediately got on with helping others who were still alive.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="685" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">For my part, I woke to the sound of heavy footsteps and the sight of a military person striding down the ward. Up to this time, I had still never seen a Japanese soldier but this certainly wasn’t one of ours.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="686" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">I turned to the man beside me.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="687" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘Is that a Jap?’ I asked.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="688" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘Yes,’ he said. ‘They’ve taken over the hospital.'</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="689" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘Oh,’ I said, but then drifted off again.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="690" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Re-opening my eyes at whatever time it was later, I saw more goings on. This time, a group of wounded were struggling along the ward, bound together with what looked like barbed wire and followed by a soldier with fixed bayonet. I turned again to the man on the floor beside me.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="691" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘What’s going on?'</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="692" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘They’re taking them out to shoot them,’ came the reply.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="693" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘Oh,’ I said again, none of it registering properly with me in my delirium.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="694" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">It was noticeable that the battle noises had diminished, although there was still gunfire now and then. The ward was quiet and I was holding in my pain, listening and trying not to make a sound. Suddenly, I could hear many feet coming into the ward and a kind of thumping noise started.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="695" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘What are they doing?’ I asked the man next to me.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="696" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘Bayoneting. They’re bayoneting everybody,’ he said calmly.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="697" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">I listened again. There were no cries, no screams, nothing. Just thud... thud... thud.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="698" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">I didn’t feel fear and I don’t think the man next to me did either. I just thought, ‘I’ll never be twenty-five,’ and then, ‘Poor mum’.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="699" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">The thuds went on. Thud... thud... thud... I didn’t mind dying, but I didn’t want to see them do it me so I pulled my pillow up with my good hand and got my head under it. Then I must have drifted off again because when I awoke next, there was silence again in the ward. I turned slowly to the fellow on the camp bed next to me but he was dead. Lifting my head, I could see the other beds still had their occupants, but there was no movement, I remember thinking, ‘So this is what death is like... I must be dead.'</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="700" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Nobody knows why I wasn’t killed like all the others but the assumption is that, when the Japs came to my bed and found blood all over my chest and down on the floor and my face covered – like a corpse – they must have thought me dead already and passed me by. In any event, I was still losing blood and because of it, I must have become unconscious again, staying that way for some time because the next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor of what turned out to be the Chinese High School.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="701" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">There was a mass of us there on the floor and once again I turned to whoever was next to me.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="702" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘Where are we?’ I said.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="703" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘We’re in the bag,’ came the reply.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="704" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">I’d never heard that expression before so I tried again.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="705" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘Where’s that?'</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="706" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">‘We’re prisoners. It’s all over,’ came the answer.</span></span></article><article class="new_text" data-col="1" data-contentid="707" data-type="text" style="font-family: RobotoLight, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 6px; max-width: 100%; padding-bottom: 6px; width: 798.34375px;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">My dulled senses scarcely understood the enormity of meaning in these words. It was 15 February. Singapore had fallen. The citadel of the empire ravaged. The proudest of armies brought to its knees.</span></span></article></div>
David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-3018276608229934852014-07-08T01:05:00.001+08:002014-07-08T01:05:31.073+08:00The Singapore flag – symbol of PoW resistance | The Times Blogs<a href="http://blogs.thetimes.co.uk/section/times-archive/43641/the-singapore-flag-symbol-of-pow-resistance/">The Singapore flag – symbol of PoW resistance | The Times Blogs</a>: <br /><br />
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<a href="https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/pengoopmcjnbflcjbmoeodbmoflcgjlk" style="font-size: 13px;">'via Blog this'</a>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-1436961306139033432014-07-03T17:53:00.001+08:002014-07-03T17:53:31.517+08:00The Adam Park Project (TAPP)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The Adam Park project continues to make some incredible discoveries on the site of one of the fiercest battles of the Singapore campaign. Jon Cooper has kept an incredible record of the excavations on the TAPP facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/AdamParkProject</div>
David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-3463594684251999112014-06-20T16:00:00.001+08:002014-06-20T16:00:52.131+08:00Colonel Walter Page - obituary - Telegraph<a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/10906339/Colonel-Walter-Page-obituary.html">Colonel Walter Page - obituary - Telegraph</a>: <br /><br />
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<a href="https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/pengoopmcjnbflcjbmoeodbmoflcgjlk" style="font-size: 13px;">'via Blog this'</a>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-46741896804032825202014-05-10T00:12:00.001+08:002014-05-10T00:12:36.828+08:00Singapore Cricket Club article on Bill Frankland<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Great to see the SCC article on 102 year old Bill Frankland's visit to the Singapore Cricket Club after 72 years. It was an absolute honor hosting his lunch visit!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_bbLVSxlpdE/U2yujniI7fI/AAAAAAABSC0/2vZ4F0W0pp4/s640/blogger-image--1246272158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_bbLVSxlpdE/U2yujniI7fI/AAAAAAABSC0/2vZ4F0W0pp4/s640/blogger-image--1246272158.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-88055870818822412192014-03-24T23:03:00.001+08:002014-03-24T23:03:15.423+08:00St Albans ex-POW reaches 100 - News - Herts Advertiser<a href="http://www.hertsad.co.uk/news/st_albans_ex_pow_reaches_100_1_3402280">St Albans ex-POW reaches 100 - News - Herts Advertiser</a>: <br /><br />
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<a href="https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/pengoopmcjnbflcjbmoeodbmoflcgjlk" style="font-size: 13px;">'via Blog this'</a>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913330198737131632.post-48906574887104585412014-03-23T17:45:00.001+08:002014-03-23T17:45:09.239+08:00Anti tank gunners in Malaya<a href="https://www.facebook.com/regimentalbooks/posts/10152333397284524:0">https://www.facebook.com/regimentalbooks/posts/10152333397284524:0</a><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-9TunAz6xBAY/Uy6tIdGaiYI/AAAAAAABR8M/ddx4fOESH6s/s640/blogger-image--972494073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-9TunAz6xBAY/Uy6tIdGaiYI/AAAAAAABR8M/ddx4fOESH6s/s640/blogger-image--972494073.jpg"></a></div>Great photo shared by Regimental books of these anti tank gunners in Malaya from the Australian War Memorial </div>David Hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16016135498680668326noreply@blogger.com0