WHEN B BRITISH PRISONERS released from j.a.panese confinement began to return to England in the late summer of 1945, each one received a printed letter, signed by a government minister. "Welcome home," it began. "You have suffered a long and bitter ordeal at the hands of a barbarous enemy." Much has been written in recent years about the climate of racial hatred which distinguished the conduct of the Western Allies' war with j.a.pan from the conflict with Germany. Yet it was not until its ending that most of the revelations were forthcoming which have poisoned British, and in much lesser degree American, relations with j.a.pan ever since. These related, of course, to the treatment of Allied POWs who fell into the hands of the Imperial Army between 1941 and 1945. released from j.a.panese confinement began to return to England in the late summer of 1945, each one received a printed letter, signed by a government minister. "Welcome home," it began. "You have suffered a long and bitter ordeal at the hands of a barbarous enemy." Much has been written in recent years about the climate of racial hatred which distinguished the conduct of the Western Allies' war with j.a.pan from the conflict with Germany. Yet it was not until its ending that most of the revelations were forthcoming which have poisoned British, and in much lesser degree American, relations with j.a.pan ever since. These related, of course, to the treatment of Allied POWs who fell into the hands of the Imperial Army between 1941 and 1945.

Throughout the war, a trickle of former prisoners reached Britain and the United States. Most were escapees from the Philippines, or survivors picked up by submarines from j.a.panese ships sunk while carrying POWs to j.a.pan. They told their stories, and dreadful indeed these were. The U.S. government suppressed for months the first eyewitness accounts of the 1942 Bataan death march, on which so many surrendered survivors of MacArthur's army perished, and news of the beheadings of captured Doolittle raid aircrew. The British foreign secretary, Anthony Eden, gave a graphic account of some POW experiences to the House of Commons in January 1944, and the public was shocked by what it was told. Yet, in a curious reversal of the usual wartime propaganda inflation of the b.e.s.t.i.a.lities of the enemy, in official circles a reluctance persisted to believe the worst.

The few j.a.panese captured in Burma or the Pacific who had been in contact with Allied POWs were quizzed by Allied interrogators about their welfare, prompting the sort of response given by a twenty-five-year-old naval technician on 19 September 1944: "American PWs appeared to be652 in good health," said the j.a.panese. "About 60 British PWs quartered in same area...seemed to have an easy life, rising at 0800, doing a little exercise, then working in the gardens till 1100hrs. After dinner they again worked in the gardens till 1700, when they had supper and played games or went fishing." As late as January 1945, the British Foreign Office Political Warfare ( j.a.pan) Committee reached quite sanguine conclusions about the treatment of Allied captives. "There was evidence in good health," said the j.a.panese. "About 60 British PWs quartered in same area...seemed to have an easy life, rising at 0800, doing a little exercise, then working in the gardens till 1100hrs. After dinner they again worked in the gardens till 1700, when they had supper and played games or went fishing." As late as January 1945, the British Foreign Office Political Warfare ( j.a.pan) Committee reached quite sanguine conclusions about the treatment of Allied captives. "There was evidence653," the committee minuted, "that prisoners of war in j.a.pan itself and in the more accessible regions are treated reasonably well, according to j.a.panese standards, and that reports of serious ill-treatment come from outlying areas where the j.a.panese government has little control over local military officers in charge of the camps. The j.a.panese while they were being everywhere victorious might have thought they could safely disregard the opinion of the rest of the world, but now...they must realise that...their future will largely depend on their external relations with other Great Powers. From motives of self-interest, therefore, they are more and more likely to realise that they had better treat prisoners of war well."

In the spring of 1945, such wishful thinking was discredited. Substantial numbers of British and Australian POWs were freed by Slim's victorious army in Burma, likewise Americans by MacArthur's men in the Philippines. Their liberators were stunned654 by the stories they heard: of starvation and rampant disease; of men worked to death in their thousands, tortured or beheaded for small infractions of discipline. An urgent signal was sent from Mountbatten's headquarters to the Foreign Office, asking for guidance about the treatment of atrocity stories. SEAC was told that they should be censored. If the British public learned before hostilities ended what had been done to its soldiers, sailors and airmen, outrage was inevitable. The j.a.panese, in their desperation, were capable of imposing even more terrible sufferings upon tens of thousands of POWs who remained in their hands. Prisoners were themselves haunted by an expectation that the j.a.panese would slaughter them in the rage of defeat. by the stories they heard: of starvation and rampant disease; of men worked to death in their thousands, tortured or beheaded for small infractions of discipline. An urgent signal was sent from Mountbatten's headquarters to the Foreign Office, asking for guidance about the treatment of atrocity stories. SEAC was told that they should be censored. If the British public learned before hostilities ended what had been done to its soldiers, sailors and airmen, outrage was inevitable. The j.a.panese, in their desperation, were capable of imposing even more terrible sufferings upon tens of thousands of POWs who remained in their hands. Prisoners were themselves haunted by an expectation that the j.a.panese would slaughter them in the rage of defeat.

When the war ended, it became possible to compare the fates of Allied servicemen under the n.a.z.is and the j.a.panese. Just 4 percent of British and American POWs had died in German hands. Yet 27 percent-35,756 out of 132,134-of Western Allied prisoners lost their lives in j.a.panese captivity. The Chinese suffered in similar measure. Of 41,862 sent to become slave labourers in j.a.pan, 2,872 died in China, 600 in ships on pa.s.sage, 200 on the land journey, and 6,872 in their j.a.panese workplaces. These figures discount a host of captives who did not survive in j.a.panese hands on the battlefield, or after being shot down, for long enough to become statistics.

Of 130,000 Europeans interned in the Dutch East Indies, almost all civilians, 30,000 died, including 4,500 women and 2,300 children. Of 300,000 Javanese, Tamils, Burmans and Chinese sent to work on the BurmaSiam railway, 60,000 perished, likewise a quarter of the 60,000 Western Allied prisoners. There seemed no limit to j.a.panese inhumanity. When a cholera epidemic struck Tamil railway workers at Nieke in June 1943, a barracks containing 250 infected men, women and children was simply torched. One of the j.a.panese who did the burning wrote later of the victims: "I dared not look into their eyes655. I only heard some whispering 'Tolong, tolong'-'Help, help.' It was the most pitiful sight. G.o.d forgive me. I was not happy to see them being burnt alive."

To give a British ill.u.s.tration: when the Royal Navy destroyer Encounter Encounter was sunk in the 1942 Battle of the Java Sea, 123 of its crew lived to enter captivity. Of these, 41 were lost when a transport carrying them to j.a.pan was sunk by an American submarine; 30 died in POW camps; just 52 returned to England in 1945. This represented a saga of systematic deprivation and brutality, overlaid upon the hazards of war, of a kind familiar to Russian and Jewish prisoners of the n.a.z.is, yet shocking to the American, British and Australian publics. It seemed incomprehensible that a nation with pretensions to civilisation could have defied every principle of humanity and the supposed rules of war. The saga of j.a.pan's captives has exercised a terrible fascination for Westerners ever since. was sunk in the 1942 Battle of the Java Sea, 123 of its crew lived to enter captivity. Of these, 41 were lost when a transport carrying them to j.a.pan was sunk by an American submarine; 30 died in POW camps; just 52 returned to England in 1945. This represented a saga of systematic deprivation and brutality, overlaid upon the hazards of war, of a kind familiar to Russian and Jewish prisoners of the n.a.z.is, yet shocking to the American, British and Australian publics. It seemed incomprehensible that a nation with pretensions to civilisation could have defied every principle of humanity and the supposed rules of war. The saga of j.a.pan's captives has exercised a terrible fascination for Westerners ever since.

THE OVERWHELMING majority of Allied service personnel and civilians in j.a.panese hands were captured during the first months of the Far East war: Americans in the Philippines; Dutch in their East Indies colony; British, Australians and Indians in Hong Kong, Malaya and Burma. Thereafter, only small numbers were added: a few soldiers from battlefields, survivors of sunken ships, airmen shot down over j.a.panese territory. Even if detail was lacking, a powerful message filtered down through the ranks of all the Allied forces: it was worth taking pains to avoid capture. More significant, the Americans and British were no longer retreating and surrendering, but at worst holding their ground, more often advancing. majority of Allied service personnel and civilians in j.a.panese hands were captured during the first months of the Far East war: Americans in the Philippines; Dutch in their East Indies colony; British, Australians and Indians in Hong Kong, Malaya and Burma. Thereafter, only small numbers were added: a few soldiers from battlefields, survivors of sunken ships, airmen shot down over j.a.panese territory. Even if detail was lacking, a powerful message filtered down through the ranks of all the Allied forces: it was worth taking pains to avoid capture. More significant, the Americans and British were no longer retreating and surrendering, but at worst holding their ground, more often advancing.

It is hard to overstate the trauma suffered by more than 100,000 American, British, Australian and Indian servicemen taken prisoner during the early Allied defeats. They had been conditioned by their culture to suppose that surrender was a misfortune which might befall any fighting man, especially those as poorly led as had been the Allies in the early Far Eastern campaigns, and as lamentably supported by their home governments. As crowds of disarmed personnel milled about awaiting their fate in Manila or Singapore, Hong Kong or Rangoon, they contemplated a life behind barbed wire with dismay, but without the terror which their real prospects merited. "In the beginning656," said Doug Idlett, a twenty-two-year-old USAAF enlisted man from Oklahoma captured in the Philippines, "we thought: 'A couple of months and our army will be back.'" In the weeks which followed, however, as their rations shrank, medicines vanished, and j.a.panese policy was revealed, they learned differently. Officers and men alike, dispatched to labour in sweating jungles, torrid plains or mines and quarries, grew to understand that, in the eyes of their captors, they had become slaves.

"The Burma railway was a very difficult657 engineering challenge," said Captain Renichi Sugano, who commanded a section of No. 9 Railway Company, which supervised much of the construction work on this most terrible of all projects to which Allied prisoners were committed. "At the beginning, when we did the surveying, we were working in virgin jungle, where you could not even see through the trees to make measurements with a theodolite." Almost all j.a.panese army railway personnel developed malaria and fever. In the two months between wet and dry seasons, it was impossible to use either road transport in the mud, or boats on the falling rivers. Rations ran very short even for Sugano's men. "The further we got from the railhead, the worse things were. It was a very hard time." engineering challenge," said Captain Renichi Sugano, who commanded a section of No. 9 Railway Company, which supervised much of the construction work on this most terrible of all projects to which Allied prisoners were committed. "At the beginning, when we did the surveying, we were working in virgin jungle, where you could not even see through the trees to make measurements with a theodolite." Almost all j.a.panese army railway personnel developed malaria and fever. In the two months between wet and dry seasons, it was impossible to use either road transport in the mud, or boats on the falling rivers. Rations ran very short even for Sugano's men. "The further we got from the railhead, the worse things were. It was a very hard time."

Sugano and his colleagues much preferred the services of Allied POW labour to those of locally conscripted people. "From our viewpoint, the POWs were good workers," he said. "Having been soldiers, they were used to obeying orders. Local people did not understand discipline. Even when you told them they must boil water before drinking it, they drank from the river anyway, and got cholera. They were very troublesome people." Asked his views on the host of deaths among POW railway workers, Captain Sugano said cautiously: "Another unit was responsible for the care and custody of POWs. We simply borrowed them for labour, and returned them to their camp each night." Quite so. In the eyes of the j.a.panese, prisoners possessed no rights, were protected by no laws. Not only had they lost their honour by the warrior code of bushido bushido, they had forfeited fundamental human respect. A j.a.panese war reporter, Ashihei Hino, observed without enthusiasm American prisoners on Bataan: "men of the arrogant nation658 which sought to treat our motherland with unwarranted contempt...As I gaze upon these crowds of surrendered soldiers, I feel as if I am watching dirty water running from the sewers of a nation whose origins were mongrel, and whose pride has been lost. j.a.panese soldiers look extraordinarily handsome, and I feel very proud to belong to their race." which sought to treat our motherland with unwarranted contempt...As I gaze upon these crowds of surrendered soldiers, I feel as if I am watching dirty water running from the sewers of a nation whose origins were mongrel, and whose pride has been lost. j.a.panese soldiers look extraordinarily handsome, and I feel very proud to belong to their race."

As prisoners' residual fitness ebbed away, some abandoned hope. They acquiesced in a fate which soon overtook them. "There is no doubt that many men just659 'dropped their bundle' and died," wrote Hall Romney, a forty-one-year-old former journalist who had been captured serving as a sergeant-major in the Singapore Volunteers, "whereas in similar circ.u.mstances men who retained a will to live survived...A feeling of loneliness has been a contributory factor in the deaths of many men, particularly some of the younger ones." Stephen Abbott, captured in Malaya as a subaltern of the 2nd East Surreys, wrote of their early imprisonment as a time of almost complete self-absorption, overwhelmed by a feeling of inferiority to those who had vanquished them: "The most junior soldier felt 'dropped their bundle' and died," wrote Hall Romney, a forty-one-year-old former journalist who had been captured serving as a sergeant-major in the Singapore Volunteers, "whereas in similar circ.u.mstances men who retained a will to live survived...A feeling of loneliness has been a contributory factor in the deaths of many men, particularly some of the younger ones." Stephen Abbott, captured in Malaya as a subaltern of the 2nd East Surreys, wrote of their early imprisonment as a time of almost complete self-absorption, overwhelmed by a feeling of inferiority to those who had vanquished them: "The most junior soldier felt660 some sense of personal responsibility. However much we blamed our leaders we were...members of a team which had let Britain down...This sense of failure seemed to permeate Changi camp. Most conversations seemed centred around grievances, blame, and attempts at self-justification." some sense of personal responsibility. However much we blamed our leaders we were...members of a team which had let Britain down...This sense of failure seemed to permeate Changi camp. Most conversations seemed centred around grievances, blame, and attempts at self-justification."

Among the most corrosive consequences of imprisonment was the collapse of loyalties, obligations to rank and peer groups. "I saw discipline go down661 the toilet very fast," said U.S. Captain Mel Rosen, taken on Bataan. Behind the wire, only a minority of officers, such as the Australian Brig. Arthur Varley, retained the respect of their men. This no longer depended upon position in a military hierarchy, but solely upon the conduct of an individual leader. Bombardier Alex Young, an anti-tank gunner from Argyll, wrote contemptuously of his camp senior officer on Batavia: "Major D-was about as useful the toilet very fast," said U.S. Captain Mel Rosen, taken on Bataan. Behind the wire, only a minority of officers, such as the Australian Brig. Arthur Varley, retained the respect of their men. This no longer depended upon position in a military hierarchy, but solely upon the conduct of an individual leader. Bombardier Alex Young, an anti-tank gunner from Argyll, wrote contemptuously of his camp senior officer on Batavia: "Major D-was about as useful662 as a dead cat! His interests and motives were selfish. He looked on all sick (or so it seemed) as just so much enc.u.mbrances-they were better dead and out of the way. I saw him go off the train and never raise a finger to help those...who were too sick to move." Australian Don Moore spoke of one officer known as "the white j.a.p as a dead cat! His interests and motives were selfish. He looked on all sick (or so it seemed) as just so much enc.u.mbrances-they were better dead and out of the way. I saw him go off the train and never raise a finger to help those...who were too sick to move." Australian Don Moore spoke of one officer known as "the white j.a.p663," who ran a canteen for his own profit in the camp which he commanded. In Aomi prison camp on j.a.pan, where fifty-three of three hundred men died in the first months, Stephen Abbott was recovering from malaria and dysentery when an Anglo-Indian sergeant came to him and said: "I know you've been terribly ill664, sir, but there are many dying men around. You're the commanding officer and I think it's now time you forgot yourself and got on with the job."

Hall Romney and his comrades on the railway in Siam despised their senior officer, Colonel Knights, never more so than when a visiting j.a.panese general asked whether the prisoners were satisfied with their conditions, and Knights answered: "Yes, very." The colonel, wrote Romney bitterly, "seems to accept everything665 the j.a.ps propose without daring to protest or suggest alterations." Flying Officer Erroll Shearn the j.a.ps propose without daring to protest or suggest alterations." Flying Officer Erroll Shearn666, a forty-nine-year-old RAF administrative officer, was disgusted when the padre in his camp on Java, a non-smoker, persuaded desperate men to exchange their bread for his cigarette ration. Many British officers endorsed doc.u.ments presented by the j.a.panese, promising not to escape. "You are signing away667 your honour, gentlemen!" cried a mocking British private soldier as most of his former commanders scribbled their names in Rangoon Jail. One of the most senior British captives, Maj.-Gen. Christopher Maltby, testified later about his shame that he had given such a promise, and had encouraged subordinates to do likewise: "During the early months your honour, gentlemen!" cried a mocking British private soldier as most of his former commanders scribbled their names in Rangoon Jail. One of the most senior British captives, Maj.-Gen. Christopher Maltby, testified later about his shame that he had given such a promise, and had encouraged subordinates to do likewise: "During the early months668 a number of parties and individuals succeeded in escaping. In the light of after events it is to my lasting regret that I did not encourage larger parties to make the attempt." a number of parties and individuals succeeded in escaping. In the light of after events it is to my lasting regret that I did not encourage larger parties to make the attempt."

In few camps did Allied solidarity prevail. When a hundred Americans suddenly arrived in the camp where Stephen Abbott had become senior British officer, there were immediate tensions. One American said: "Get this straight, Limey. We gotta look to the Nips, but we're not taking orders from any f-ing Britisher!" Abbott wrote that he thought these GIs the most frightening group of people he had ever met, j.a.panese not excluded. In almost all camps there was friction between Dutch prisoners, who were accused of selfishness on behalf of their own people, and POWs of other races. Erroll Shearn hated the Dutch in his camp on Java, and later scornfully dismissed the books written about their mutual experience by the South African Laurens van der Post: "The grandiose picture he draws669 is very much a figment of his extremely fertile imagination." Dr. Marjorie Lyon, an internee on Sumatra, was shocked that the Dutch refused to admit British casualties to their hospital: "The Dutch doctors I met is very much a figment of his extremely fertile imagination." Dr. Marjorie Lyon, an internee on Sumatra, was shocked that the Dutch refused to admit British casualties to their hospital: "The Dutch doctors I met670 were all ignorant and obstinate...[they] had given our men very shabby treatment." Doug Idlett, an American who worked at Yoshioka in a mixed-nationalities camp, said: "There was no love lost were all ignorant and obstinate...[they] had given our men very shabby treatment." Doug Idlett, an American who worked at Yoshioka in a mixed-nationalities camp, said: "There was no love lost671 between certain nationalities, especially between us and the Dutch. The Dutch and Javanese had got there first and had all the best jobs, in the kitchens and suchlike." between certain nationalities, especially between us and the Dutch. The Dutch and Javanese had got there first and had all the best jobs, in the kitchens and suchlike."

Most men agreed that the key to survival was adaptability. It was essential to recognise that this new life, however unspeakable, represented a reality which must be acknowledged. Those who pined for home, who gazed tearfully at photos of loved ones, were doomed. "There was a weeding-out672 thing," said Corporal Paul Reuter of the USAAF. "The ones who cried went early." Andrew Cunningham, a former Hastings accountant captured with an air-sea rescue unit in Singapore at the age of twenty-four, spent almost two years building an airfield on Surabaya. "My life was a nonent.i.ty thing," said Corporal Paul Reuter of the USAAF. "The ones who cried went early." Andrew Cunningham, a former Hastings accountant captured with an air-sea rescue unit in Singapore at the age of twenty-four, spent almost two years building an airfield on Surabaya. "My life was a nonent.i.ty673, a blank," he said later. "It was a mistake to look at photographs. It made people melancholy. I made a conscious decision that this was the new life, and I had to get on with it. I just dismissed the old one, as if it didn't exist. The tragedy was that so many people couldn't accommodate themselves. If anything plunged a dagger into me, it was seeing people give up. I saw some really nice guys just disintegrate, and throw themselves into boreholes. I could never understand how a person could sink so low. What a way to commit suicide! In a hole full of sewage!" Doug Idlett of the USAAF was bemused by the manner in which some men resigned themselves to death, even embraced it. He himself, by contrast, "wanted to survive674, intended to survive. I felt it was up to me."

Some men could not bring themselves to stomach unfamiliar and indeed repulsive food. "They preferred to die rather than to eat what they were given," said Idlett. "I knew some that would not eat rice675. Most died of inanition-loss of the will to live. At one time in the Philippines, we were burying fifty to sixty a day. I volunteered for the burial detail to get away from working on a farm in that Philippine sun-and to get an extra slice of bread. I don't like rice-but I ate it." American prisoners in the Philippines suffered grievously from the fact that, after enduring the siege of Bataan, most were half-starved when they entered captivity. "The ones who wouldn't eat died pretty early on," said Paul Reuter of the USAAF, a twenty-four-year-old miner's son from Shamokin, Pennsylvania. "I buried people who looked much better than me. They just crawled under a building. I never did have any thoughts of not living. We were a bunch who'd been through the Depression. I never turned down anything that was edible-and I guess I just had the right genes."

In Reuter's camp, "anything that was edible" meant whale blubber or soya meal, occasionally dried fish, "which we ate bones and all." Australian Snow Peat saw676 a maggot an inch long, and said, "Meat, you beauty!" "One bloke sitting alongside me said, 'Jeez, I can't eat that.' I said, 'Well tip her in here, mate, it's going to be my meal ticket home. You've got to eat it, you've got to give it a go. Think they're currants in the Christmas pudding. Think they're anything.'" Vic Ashwell, captured on the Sittang River in Burma as a twenty-two-year-old lieutenant with the 3rd Gurkhas, agreed with Peat: "I was prepared to eat anything a maggot an inch long, and said, "Meat, you beauty!" "One bloke sitting alongside me said, 'Jeez, I can't eat that.' I said, 'Well tip her in here, mate, it's going to be my meal ticket home. You've got to eat it, you've got to give it a go. Think they're currants in the Christmas pudding. Think they're anything.'" Vic Ashwell, captured on the Sittang River in Burma as a twenty-two-year-old lieutenant with the 3rd Gurkhas, agreed with Peat: "I was prepared to eat anything677. I volunteered for anything to get out, to keep body and mind ticking. When I saw younger officers just lying there, I'd urge them: 'Come on, get on your feet!'" Ashwell noted that the first to die were private soldiers from humble backgrounds, malnourished in childhood during Britain's Depression. Such men possessed few bodily reserves.

Squadron-Leader David Grant, at Mitsushima in j.a.pan, wrote bitterly of "twelve hours of coolie labour on three cups of coa.r.s.e rice and barley." The chronic shortage, cause of many deaths, was that of green vegetables. In Rangoon Jail, prisoners were permitted gardens, manured with human excrement, where they raised spinach, cuc.u.mbers, aubergines, sweet potatoes and carrots. They were forbidden to grow maize, on the grounds that guards would not be able to see their charges through the crop. In the coal mines of f.u.kuoka, by contrast, Don Lewis and his companions received only two hundred grams of rice thrice daily, with a bowl of soup twice. On Shikoku Island, j.a.pan, British airman Louis Morris became obsessed with food, spending countless hours recording in minute handwriting English, American and Asian recipes, which he planned to use to start a catering business after the war. Like more than a few captives, he also wrote painfully sentimental verses:

I've missed the sunshine after rain678And England's garden from a train;Of crowds I've missed the friendly touch-I did not dream it meant so much;I miss the downlands rolling free,The wrack where shingle meets the sea.

In the shipyards near Osaka, where American Milton Young worked, two starving British prisoners ate lard from a great tub used for greasing the slipway. It had been treated with a.r.s.enic to repel insects. They died.

Every Allied POW was ent.i.tled to receive International Red Cross food parcels, which were delivered in large quant.i.ties, but were withheld or issued to prisoners according to local j.a.panese whim. Most were systematically pillaged by prison staff. Hundreds of tons of Red Cross supplies were belatedly released to camp inmates only after j.a.pan's August 1945 surrender. While the war lasted, Paul Reuter received just three and a half parcels in forty months. Milton Young once offered to swap his tea ration for the coffee in a British prisoner's pack. "I've never tasted coffee," said the Englishman. Young made him some. After trying it, the other man would have nothing to do with a swap.

Tens of thousands of family parcels were also dispatched, but the j.a.panese seldom troubled to deliver them. Paul Reuter received in 1945 a package dispatched by his parents three years earlier, containing cookies and chocolate that had turned white with age. U.S. artillery captain Mel Rosen got a family parcel on Luzon in 1944 which he found wonderfully sensibly chosen: a carton of cigarettes, a sweater, a jar of candy and some vitamin pills. He was thrilled. Other men, by contrast, raged at the folly and insensitivity-in truth, tragic ignorance-which caused their loved ones to ship trifles. "Some men swore679 they would divorce their wives when they got home, for sending such stupid things," said Rosen wonderingly. "One sent a football. Here was her husband starving-and he got a football!" When Lt. Eunice Young, a U.S. Army nurse held among more than 3,000 mostly civilian internees at Santo Tomas, Manila, received a parcel from home, it contained a swimsuit: "Guess my mother thinks they would divorce their wives when they got home, for sending such stupid things," said Rosen wonderingly. "One sent a football. Here was her husband starving-and he got a football!" When Lt. Eunice Young, a U.S. Army nurse held among more than 3,000 mostly civilian internees at Santo Tomas, Manila, received a parcel from home, it contained a swimsuit: "Guess my mother thinks680 I'm vacationing out here!" I'm vacationing out here!"

Around two-thirds of the prisoners at Santo Tomas were American, a quarter British. In the early war years, their circ.u.mstances were relatively privileged. As food dwindled and cash ran out, however, in 1944 their condition became parlous, deaths commonplace. During the fight for Bataan, U.S. Army nurses were told to destroy their money before surrendering. Within weeks, they bitterly regretted this. Behind the walls of Santo Tomas they survived only by signing IOUs to local representatives of big U.S. companies such as General Electric, whose credit was deemed good. After liberation, Lt. Rita Palmer and others found themselves called upon to pay up, to the tune of $1,000 or more apiece. "We were so hungry that681 when we ate a banana, we ate the skin too," said Hattie Brantley. "Anything to fill up our empty stomachs." when we ate a banana, we ate the skin too," said Hattie Brantley. "Anything to fill up our empty stomachs."

Most Santo Tomas prisoners rejected dried and salted dilis fish when first this was offered to them, partly because of its overpowering stench. By the last months, however, they ate the fish and were grateful. Thefts of food by prisoners became a worsening problem-women cleaning vegetables carried off peelings, men scoured the garbage dumps. "It was becoming very apparent682 to what degree plain honesty, ordinary decency, self-respect, community feeling, and all the higher values are dependent on the maintenance of the narrowest margin between having enough to eat and not having enough to eat." By December 1944, six or seven prisoners a day were dying of malnutrition in Santo Tomas. Through a characteristic eccentricity of j.a.panese management, two months before the camp's liberation, formal instruction was imposed to teach all prisoners the correct method of bowing in unison to their captors, "to show respect" at roll call. to what degree plain honesty, ordinary decency, self-respect, community feeling, and all the higher values are dependent on the maintenance of the narrowest margin between having enough to eat and not having enough to eat." By December 1944, six or seven prisoners a day were dying of malnutrition in Santo Tomas. Through a characteristic eccentricity of j.a.panese management, two months before the camp's liberation, formal instruction was imposed to teach all prisoners the correct method of bowing in unison to their captors, "to show respect" at roll call.

Most British families at home were no better informed than Americans about the hideous circ.u.mstances of the prisoners. It is doubtful whether thirty-three-year-old RAF Aircraftsman Phil Sparrow gained much pleasure from this letter, when it reached him on Batavia:

My Dear Philip683, I am hoping you will get these few lines & to know you are well. Everyone at home are well and we hope soon to get a card from you. Say what you are needing most and we will try and get it sent through the International Red Cross. Victor has the distribution of tomatoes in this district and could do with his clerk back. Mother & Auntie was here to tea Sunday. They are both well. Esmee and Ivor were here for a week, both were well. We are expecting Cousin Edie and daughter-in-law. Her son is in Malaya like yourself. Keep a stout heart & may G.o.d bless and bring you safely back. Ernest joins me in love & the best of health your loving Aunt Ada.

Prisoners were bereft of possessions. Mel Rosen owned a loincloth, a bottle and a pot of pepper. Many POWs boasted only the loincloth. Even where there were razor blades, shaving was unfashionable, s.h.a.ggy beards the norm. Few made use of what might ironically be called their "leisure hours." Paul Reuter claimed that he never did much, but never remembered being bored, "because the mind doesn't generate many thoughts when you're that hungry. I'm always angry with having wasted those years." In Aomi, j.a.pan, prisoners took it in turns to give each other lectures on such themes as "Letters," "My Dog Rufus," "World Government," "The Virtue of Modesty," "The American War of Independence." In some camps, educational courses flourished. Andrew Cunningham took the opportunity to get coaching from a fellow prisoner in accountancy, his chosen career. In Rangoon Jail, British prisoners possessed some books. One officer, Bruce Tothill, kept a list of t.i.tles which he read. They included As We Were As We Were by E. F. Benson, by E. F. Benson, Frenchman's Creek Frenchman's Creek by Daphne du Maurier, by Daphne du Maurier, Crime and Punishment Crime and Punishment, Robinson Crusoe Robinson Crusoe, Mansfield Park Mansfield Park, Eminent Victorians Eminent Victorians, 1000 Beautiful Things Selected by Arthur Mee Beautiful Things Selected by Arthur Mee, The Fair Maid of Perth The Fair Maid of Perth by Walter Scott. Pocket editions of d.i.c.kens were especially valued, because their thin paper made them ideal for rolling cigarettes. by Walter Scott. Pocket editions of d.i.c.kens were especially valued, because their thin paper made them ideal for rolling cigarettes.

In Milton Young's camp, when prisoners made a deck of playing cards they were thrashed by the j.a.panese for "presumption," but in most places chess and bridge were tolerated. In Rangoon in 1944, Maj. Nigel Loring had just called "Six spades" when Allied bombs began to fall around the jail. Amid deafening explosions which killed or wounded several prisoners, the cards scattered in all directions. When at last peace was restored, Loring exclaimed ruefully: "G.o.ddammit! That was684 the best bridge hand I ever had!" the best bridge hand I ever had!"

In almost every POW camp, drugs to treat disease were scarce or non-existent. Superimposed upon a grossly inadequate diet, sickness carried off many men. In Burma and Malaya, beriberi was the princ.i.p.al killer, caused by a lack of vitamin B. Its symptoms began with chronic diarrhoea. Thereafter, a victim's body either swelled, or shrank to skeletal dimensions. In Rangoon Jail, doctors had a thermometer and a stethoscope, which enabled them to diagnose a man's condition, but they lacked drugs to ameliorate it. Guards were bribed to bring in poppies from which an opiate could be made. Working parties collected "blue stones"-copper sulphate-which could be crushed and stirred into water to form an antidote for jungle sores. Old razor blades were stolen for surgery. The ubiquitous flies provoked a cholera outbreak, which after killing ten prisoners was checked by skilful isolation of patients. Blood and mucus in a man's stool indicated dysentery, another ruthless killer. Jaundice, dengue fever and of course malaria took their shares. Alf Evans, an RAOC wireless mechanic, observed laconically that his Malayan camp was "not a bit like Butlin's685 at all. We had here ulcers, boils, crabs, malaria, blackwater fever, dingy, beriberi, sores, bugbites, Changi feet and depression." In sapper Edward Whincup's at all. We had here ulcers, boils, crabs, malaria, blackwater fever, dingy, beriberi, sores, bugbites, Changi feet and depression." In sapper Edward Whincup's686 camp on the railway, open wounds were treated by sc.r.a.ping out pus with a spoon, then spraying the infected area with a saline solution or permanganate of potash with an RAF stirrup pump. When the British were joined by Tamil workers, unfamiliar with hygiene discipline, cholera struck. camp on the railway, open wounds were treated by sc.r.a.ping out pus with a spoon, then spraying the infected area with a saline solution or permanganate of potash with an RAF stirrup pump. When the British were joined by Tamil workers, unfamiliar with hygiene discipline, cholera struck.

An American Liberator crew was brought into Rangoon Jail in 1944, every man badly burned. As "war criminals" by j.a.panese definition, they had been granted no medical treatment whatever. When British doctors were belatedly allowed to see them, the airmen's wounds crawled with maggots. "With one exception687," wrote a British officer, "they died screaming in agony as they had done since their arrival." Doctors found themselves grimly fascinated by the variety of illnesses which it became their lot to treat. For instance, prisoners working on an airstrip off Java developed "coral blindness." Poor diet generated many cases of vision deterioration. "Burning feet" exactly described symptoms of the condition. It became worse at night, so that men unable to sleep in their agony paced compounds through the hours of darkness. One of many post-war medical reports described the case of Private Barton of the 2nd Loyals, sentenced to five years' solitary confinement for an attempted escape from Changi in July 1942. Barton served three years, during which he received a daily allowance of "1/2 pint rice pap688 for breakfast, 1/2 pint dry rice and 1/2 pint green soup for tiffin and supper. Developed scrotal dermat.i.tis, burning feet, glossitis, weakness of the legs, deafness and retro-bulbar neuropathy. When examined in October 1945 Barton showed bilateral nerve deafness, posterior column degeneration and severe memory defect." for breakfast, 1/2 pint dry rice and 1/2 pint green soup for tiffin and supper. Developed scrotal dermat.i.tis, burning feet, glossitis, weakness of the legs, deafness and retro-bulbar neuropathy. When examined in October 1945 Barton showed bilateral nerve deafness, posterior column degeneration and severe memory defect."

In the midst of all this, prisoners were occasionally permitted to dispatch cards to relatives at home, couched in terms which mocked their condition, and phrases usually dictated by their jailers. "Dear Mum & all," wrote Fred Thompson from Java to his family in Ess.e.x, "I am very well and hope you are too. The j.a.panese treat us well, so don't worry about me and never feel uneasy. My daily work is easy and we are paid...We have plenty of food and much recreation. Goodbye, G.o.d bless you, I am waiting for you very earnestly, my love to you all." Thompson expressed reality in the privacy of his diary: "Somehow we keep going689. We are all skeletons, just living from day to day...This life just teaches one not to hope or expect anything...I cannot explain my emotions, they are just non-existent."

In the face of inst.i.tutionalised barbarism, some prisoners displayed unselfishness and n.o.bility. In Rangoon Jail, a Gurkha subadar subadar invited by the j.a.panese to compose an essay on the British wrote simply in block capitals: invited by the j.a.panese to compose an essay on the British wrote simply in block capitals: THE BRITISH ALWAYS THE BRITISH ALWAYS690 HAVE BEEN AND ALWAYS WILL BE THE FINEST RACE IN THE WORLD HAVE BEEN AND ALWAYS WILL BE THE FINEST RACE IN THE WORLD. He was sent to solitary confinement. The Australian prison camp surgeon "Weary" Dunlop became a legend in his country. Others behaved less well. Corporal Paul Reuter of the USAAF slept on the top deck of a three-tier bunk in his camp at Hirahato on j.a.pan. When disease and vitamin deficiency caused him to go blind for three weeks, no man would change places to enable him to sleep at ground level. "Some people would steal691, no matter how much they were punished," said Reuter. "There was a lot of barter, then bitterness about people who reneged on the deals. There were only a few fights, but a lot of arguing-about places in line, about who got a spoonful more."

Sapper Edward Whincup692, in a camp on the Burma railway, was shocked by the prevalence of pilfering by comrades, especially of blankets, their most precious possessions, which were sold to Thais in exchange for food. Two Australians caught stealing drugs in Hall Romney's camp were forced to parade outside the guardroom through thirty-six hours of blazing sun and chill night. "No one has any sympathy693 with them," wrote Romney. "They merit most severe punishment." Australians showed themselves both the best and worst of POWs. Their finest possessed extraordinary courage, endurance and tribal loyalty. Their basest were incorrigible thieves and ruthless bullies. This was a world in which gentleness was neither a virtue which commanded esteem, nor a quality which promoted survival. Philip Stibbe, a former Chindit officer in Rangoon Jail, wrote: "We became hardened with them," wrote Romney. "They merit most severe punishment." Australians showed themselves both the best and worst of POWs. Their finest possessed extraordinary courage, endurance and tribal loyalty. Their basest were incorrigible thieves and ruthless bullies. This was a world in which gentleness was neither a virtue which commanded esteem, nor a quality which promoted survival. Philip Stibbe, a former Chindit officer in Rangoon Jail, wrote: "We became hardened694 and even callous. At one time bets were laid about who would be next to die. Everything possible was done to save the lives of the sick, but it was worse than useless to grieve over the inevitable." and even callous. At one time bets were laid about who would be next to die. Everything possible was done to save the lives of the sick, but it was worse than useless to grieve over the inevitable."

Self-respect was deeply discounted. Every day, in every way, prisoners were exposed to their own impotence. On the Bataan death march, Captain Mel Rosen watched j.a.panese soldiers kick ailing Americans into latrine pits: "You don't know the meaning of frustration695 until you've had to stand by and take that," said Rosen. Some British officers in Rangoon Jail remained morbidly sensitive to their status as representatives of the power which claimed hegemony over the Burmans. They were thus ashamed to find themselves pushing carts of manure through the streets of the city in their loincloths, watched without sympathy by local people. "I wonder what the Poona Club would think!" muttered one British officer gloomily. until you've had to stand by and take that," said Rosen. Some British officers in Rangoon Jail remained morbidly sensitive to their status as representatives of the power which claimed hegemony over the Burmans. They were thus ashamed to find themselves pushing carts of manure through the streets of the city in their loincloths, watched without sympathy by local people. "I wonder what the Poona Club would think!" muttered one British officer gloomily.

They strove to preserve tatters of "face" and discipline. For instance, when a working party was caught in the streets during an Allied air raid, their senior officer kept them marching in formed ranks. It seemed essential "that the j.a.panese, contemptuous of us696 anyway for being prisoners, should not be given any reason to despise us further," wrote Lt. Charles Coubrough. This was, he said, "one of the few examples of firm leadership I was to meet during my captivity, and I responded gladly." Almost every prisoner afterwards felt ashamed that he had stood pa.s.sively by while the j.a.panese beat or even killed his comrades. In logic, what could bystanders have done? To survivors, however, logic offered little comfort. anyway for being prisoners, should not be given any reason to despise us further," wrote Lt. Charles Coubrough. This was, he said, "one of the few examples of firm leadership I was to meet during my captivity, and I responded gladly." Almost every prisoner afterwards felt ashamed that he had stood pa.s.sively by while the j.a.panese beat or even killed his comrades. In logic, what could bystanders have done? To survivors, however, logic offered little comfort.

Each man chose his own path towards a relationship with the j.a.panese. Coubrough believed that it was essential never to show fear or seem to condescend. He sought to be cheerful and friendly: "It was pointless to maintain697 a defiant att.i.tude for years." Prisoners hated the necessity to bow to every j.a.panese, whatever his rank and whatever theirs. In any case, no display of deference shielded them from the erratic whims of their masters. j.a.panese behaviour vacillated between grotesquery and sadism. In Ted Whincup's camp on the Burma railway, the commandant, Major Cheetah, insisted that the prisoners' four-piece band should muster outside the guardroom and play "Hi, ho, hi, ho, it's off to work we go"-the tune from a defiant att.i.tude for years." Prisoners hated the necessity to bow to every j.a.panese, whatever his rank and whatever theirs. In any case, no display of deference shielded them from the erratic whims of their masters. j.a.panese behaviour vacillated between grotesquery and sadism. In Ted Whincup's camp on the Burma railway, the commandant, Major Cheetah, insisted that the prisoners' four-piece band should muster outside the guardroom and play "Hi, ho, hi, ho, it's off to work we go"-the tune from Snow White- Snow White-each morning as a column of skeletal inmates shambled forth to their labours. "n.o.body looked or felt like the seven dwarves," noted Whincup grimly. If guards in his camp took a dislike to a prisoner, they killed him with a casual shove into a ravine. The j.a.panese seemed especially ill-disposed towards tall men, whom they obliged to bend to receive punishment, usually administered with a cane. Airman Fred Jackson, working on an airfield on the coral island of Ambon, found himself diverted to build a tennis court for the commandant, under the supervision of a pre-war Wimbledon umpire. When prisoners began to die, at first the j.a.panese commandant attended their burials. There were soon so many corpses, however, that he ceased to trouble himself.

One day, for no discernible reason six British officers were paraded in line, and one by one punched to the ground by a j.a.panese warrant officer. A trooper of the 3rd Hussars, being beaten beside the tea bucket by a guard with a rifle, raised an arm to ward off blows and was accused of having struck the man. After several days of beatings, he was taken outside the camp, tied to a tree and bayoneted to death. The commandant proclaimed the execution "a necessary exercise698 of discipline." The prisoner was not shot, he said, lest the sound of gunfire unsettle local natives. of discipline." The prisoner was not shot, he said, lest the sound of gunfire unsettle local natives.

At Hall Romney's camp on the railway, a soldier who struck a j.a.panese was placed at attention in the sun outside the guardroom. Whenever he moved, he was kicked in the stomach until his screams rang through the compound. The man was then dragged onto a lorry and taken away by a guard detail equipped with rifles and spades. Next day, his identification card was removed from the files in the camp office. An officer of the Gordons who protested against sick men being forced to work was taken into the jungle and tied to a tree, beneath which guards lit a fire and burnt him like some Christian martyr. At a camp in j.a.pan, days before the end of the war five British officers were shot when a radio receiver was discovered in their barracks.

"The ordinary j.a.panese699 has the mind of an adolescent," Philip Stibbe wrote contemptuously. "His cruelty to animals, his att.i.tude to s.e.x matters, his ability to swallow the direst propaganda, his childish irritability and petty att.i.tude to life all indicate this...[For a prisoner] ignorance of a rule or failure to understand an order, even when it was in j.a.panese, was never considered an excuse. If they were in a good mood, you had your face slapped; if they were feeling just a bit liverish they struck you with a clenched fist; on bad days they would use a rifle b.u.t.t and kick you on the shins. But whatever they did the victim was supposed to stand perfectly still at attention." has the mind of an adolescent," Philip Stibbe wrote contemptuously. "His cruelty to animals, his att.i.tude to s.e.x matters, his ability to swallow the direst propaganda, his childish irritability and petty att.i.tude to life all indicate this...[For a prisoner] ignorance of a rule or failure to understand an order, even when it was in j.a.panese, was never considered an excuse. If they were in a good mood, you had your face slapped; if they were feeling just a bit liverish they struck you with a clenched fist; on bad days they would use a rifle b.u.t.t and kick you on the shins. But whatever they did the victim was supposed to stand perfectly still at attention."

WESTERN CIVILIANS who fell into the hands of the j.a.panese in China, the Philippines and South-East Asia were technically interned rather than imprisoned, often crowded into cl.u.s.ters of former colonial homes. In a few places, notably Shanghai, such communities came through the war worn, strained and wretched, yet almost all alive. In Shanghai's Chapei camp, the j.a.panese left families intact. Inmates complained of confinement and lack of privacy, but none starved. It was noted ruefully that deprivation of alcohol improved the fitness of some adults. They enjoyed the doubtful benefit of two pianos. Schoolchildren sat school exams. The j.a.panese seldom interfered with the monotony of life inside the compound. A British "Judicial Committee" imposed its own rules and punishments. A schoolboy watched curiously as a certain "Mr. M who fell into the hands of the j.a.panese in China, the Philippines and South-East Asia were technically interned rather than imprisoned, often crowded into cl.u.s.ters of former colonial homes. In a few places, notably Shanghai, such communities came through the war worn, strained and wretched, yet almost all alive. In Shanghai's Chapei camp, the j.a.panese left families intact. Inmates complained of confinement and lack of privacy, but none starved. It was noted ruefully that deprivation of alcohol improved the fitness of some adults. They enjoyed the doubtful benefit of two pianos. Schoolchildren sat school exams. The j.a.panese seldom interfered with the monotony of life inside the compound. A British "Judicial Committee" imposed its own rules and punishments. A schoolboy watched curiously as a certain "Mr. M700" scythed gra.s.s as a penalty for theft, while "Mr. R" served two weeks' solitary confinement in a tiny room under a stairwell for "sneaking to the j.a.panese."

Such temperate regimes were, however, exceptional. Across most of the j.a.panese empire, internees suffered almost as grievously as military POWs. Deprivation of food and lack of drugs for medical treatment killed large numbers, especially in the Dutch East Indies. Nini Rambonnet was the daughter of a Dutch colonial official, born in Batavia in 1920 and brought up in consequent comfort and ease. She had a personal maid at the age of thirteen, and as a young woman lived in a social whirl punctuated by a lot of golf and not much work. By the end of 1943, however, her golf clubs had been sold to j.a.panese naval officers to buy food, her mother tortured as an alleged British spy. Her twenty-two-year-old brother was working in the coal mines of j.a.pan, and her father was dead of starvation and dysentery. She herself was confined among 1,200 women and children in Tijdeng camp, and found it difficult to master rudimentary domestic tasks: washing and ironing clothes, pulling a rubbish cart in shafts designed for an absent horse, sharing a lavatory with thirty others. The j.a.panese orders at roll call became imprinted on her brain: "Kiotsuke"-"Attention" "Keirei"-"Bow" "Naore"-"Stand at ease."

They lived on rice, offal and vegetables. One night a fox dumped a half-eaten chicken behind their bungalow: "I cooked it slowly701 and the smell was heavenly," Nini wrote. "In the morning I took it to the nurses' houses and we all shared a cupful each. The patients were complaining that they could only smell it, but we told them they were not allowed to eat it as they had dysentery." Like POWs, internees were victims of sudden j.a.panese whims. One day at Tijdeng, an order was issued that all dogs must be rounded up and killed. Lacking any other means, boys had to club the pets to death. Infractions of discipline were punished by hours kneeling on the street in full sun: "The hot asphalt was incredibly painful." When the camp commandant asked for women volunteers to work in his house, the first draft was rejected as insufficiently pretty. and the smell was heavenly," Nini wrote. "In the morning I took it to the nurses' houses and we all shared a cupful each. The patients were complaining that they could only smell it, but we told them they were not allowed to eat it as they had dysentery." Like POWs, internees were victims of sudden j.a.panese whims. One day at Tijdeng, an order was issued that all dogs must be rounded up and killed. Lacking any other means, boys had to club the pets to death. Infractions of discipline were punished by hours kneeling on the street in full sun: "The hot asphalt was incredibly painful." When the camp commandant asked for women volunteers to work in his house, the first draft was rejected as insufficiently pretty.

During the original j.a.panese onslaught in 1942 there were many cases of rape, notably of Allied nurses, and vast numbers of Asians suffered s.e.xual a.s.sault by their occupiers. In the camps, few Western women suffered in this way. Faced with starvation, however, a significant minority-estimated at around 10 percent by an Australian nurse on Sumatra-were happy to trade s.e.x for food. Dr. Marjorie Lyon described a bitter fight in her camp on Sumatra when a thousand women forcibly resisted a 1942 attempt by the j.a.panese to remove some girls "to work for Nippon"-and won. In her later camp at Banginang, "no one was raped702, and no one went to work for Nippon against their will...quite a few women and girls did go out to live with j.a.panese in their 'comfort houses.' But they were anxious to do so to get better conditions, and we could not prevent them. None of our British people did so."

Guards routinely struck the women: "I had a reputation for being able to handle j.a.panese, but sometimes it did not work, and then I got knocked about a bit, though I never had a formal beating-up. Only one girl was...given a real Gestapo beating, and that was because she was alleged to have been overheard saying that the j.a.panese were stupid to have blackouts in the camp when the street lights were blazing." In Marjorie Lyon's group of 114 internees, 15 men and 4 women-the latter aged between fifty and seventy-two-died. One of the British women who died in a camp on a derelict rubber estate at Loebeck Linggan was a 1942 fugitive from Singapore named Margaret Dryburgh. Miss Dryburgh was a devout Christian, who cherished the captives' hymn:

Give us patience to endureKeep our hearts serene and pure,Grant us courage, charity,Greater faith, humility,Readiness to own Thy will,Be we free or captive still.

On 21 April 1945, less than four months before the war ended, Margaret Dryburgh lay on a sickbed trying to say her favourite Twenty-third Psalm. A friend understood what she wanted, and stumbled through the words on her behalf. When it was over and a silence fell, the old woman smiled, said simply, "That's what I wanted703," and died. At the same period in the hospital where Nini Rambonnet nursed, patients were expiring from malnutrition at the rate of ten a day. Corpses were laid in crude coffins of coconut leaves, on each of which the j.a.panese laid a bunch of bananas. The living attempted any expedient to a.s.suage hunger. Nini ate toadstools, which made her very sick indeed. One of the girls, in that time of despair, asked a guard who spoke Malay when they would be released. He answered: "Not until your hair is grey704 and your teeth have fallen out." and your teeth have fallen out."

2. h.e.l.l Ships

ALTHOUGH LABOUR on the Burma railway represented the worst fate that could befall an Allied POW, shipment to j.a.pan as a slave labourer was an ordeal which also proved fatal to many. On 17 June 1944, prisoners were paraded in Hall Romney's camp on the railway. The commandant announced that they were being transferred to j.a.pan. "Looking back on the past year and ten months since camps were first established in Siam," said the j.a.panese officer benignly, on the Burma railway represented the worst fate that could befall an Allied POW, shipment to j.a.pan as a slave labourer was an ordeal which also proved fatal to many. On 17 June 1944, prisoners were paraded in Hall Romney's camp on the railway. The commandant announced that they were being transferred to j.a.pan. "Looking back on the past year and ten months since camps were first established in Siam," said the j.a.panese officer benignly,

you have worked both earnestly and diligently and produced a great achievement in the construction of the SiamBurma railway...For this we wish to express sincere appreciation. Your work in Siam having finished, you are being transported to the Land of the Rising Sun, an island country joyously situated and rich in beautiful scenery. From time immemorial our Imperial Nippon has had the honour of respecting justice and morality...They are men and women of determination, generous by nature, despising injustice in accordance with the old Nippon proverb "The huntsman does not shoot the wounded bear." In spring the cherry blossoms are in full bloom. In summer fresh breezes rustle over the shadow of green trees. In autumn the glorious moon throws its entrancing light on sea and river...

After many more minutes of such lyrical rhetoric before his audience of half-dead men, the j.a.panese commandant concluded: "I wish you 'bon voyage.'" The prisoners were sent on their way.

Conditions in the holds of transport ships were always appalling, sometimes fatal. Overlaid on hunger and thirst was the threat of U.S. submarines. The j.a.panese made no attempt to identify ships carrying POWs, of whom at least 10,000 perished following Allied attacks. RAOC wireless mechanic Alf Evans was among 1,500 men in the holds of the Kachidoki Maru Kachidoki Maru on the night of 11 September 1944, when the ship was. .h.i.t by four torpedoes. Evans was lucky. Suffering malaria, he was sleeping with other sick men on a hatch cover on the forward deck, instead of being battened below. As the ship began to settle, he asked a gunner officer: "What do I do? I can't swim." The gunner said: "Now's the time to learn." Evans jumped, and dog-paddled to a small raft to which three other men were already clinging. One had two broken legs, another a dislocated thigh. They were all naked, and coated in oil. A j.a.panese soldier hung on for a while, reciting repeatedly in English: "I am large sick, I am large sick." Evans, desperately cold, saw a j.a.panese tunic floating by. He seized this and put it on. Aboard the sinking hulk, the j.a.panese had been shooting their own wounded and pushing women into boats. One British POW, Ralph Clifton, saved a baby from the sea, for which a j.a.panese officer later rewarded him with ten cigarettes. on the night of 11 September 1944, when the ship was. .h.i.t by four torpedoes. Evans was lucky. Suffering malaria, he was sleeping with other sick men on a hatch cover on the forward deck, instead of being battened below. As the ship began to settle, he asked a gunner officer: "What do I do? I can't swim." The gunner said: "Now's the time to learn." Evans jumped, and dog-paddled to a small raft to which three other men were already clinging. One had two broken legs, another a dislocated thigh. They were all naked, and coated in oil. A j.a.panese soldier hung on for a while, reciting repeatedly in English: "I am large sick, I am large sick." Evans, desperately cold, saw a j.a.panese tunic floating by. He seized this and put it on. Aboard the sinking hulk, the j.a.panese had been shooting their own wounded and pushing women into boats. One British POW, Ralph Clifton, saved a baby from the sea, for which a j.a.panese officer later rewarded him with ten cigarettes.

A destroyer arrived, and began to pick up survivors-but only j.a.panese survivors. The prisoners were left to the sea. Alf Evans paddled to a lifeboat left empty after its occupants were rescued, and climbed aboard, joining two Gordon Highlanders. They later hauled in other men, until they were thirty strong. After three days and nights afloat, they were taken aboard a j.a.panese submarine chaser. The captain reviewed the bedraggled figures paraded on his deck, and ordered them thrown over the side. The POWs were astonished to find that their own guard, Tanaka, a notoriously brutal character, dissuaded him. The vessel's captain satisfied his feelings by administering savage beatings all round. Eventually the prisoners were transferred to the hold of a whaling factory ship, in which they completed their journey to j.a.pan.

Almost naked and coated in filth, they were landed on the dockside at Moji and marched through the streets, between lines of watching j.a.panese women, to a cavalry barracks. There they were clothed in sacking and dispatched to work twelve-hour shifts in the furnaces of a chemical works in the town of Omuta: "Life consisted only of work and sleep." Of the fifteen hundred men who had embarked with Alf Evans, just six hundred survived to become slave labourers.

On 13 December 1944, Captain Mel Rosen was among a detail of 1,619 American POWs marched through the streets of Manila to the docks. In earlier times, Filipinos sometimes gave V signs to prisoners, or kids called out "We're with you, Joe!" By that last winter of the war, local people had learned the price of such gestures. Most were silent and impa.s.sive. Next day the Americans left for j.a.pan on the freighter Oryoku Maru Oryoku Maru, a voyage that was to become one of the most notorious of the war. Water and tea were periodically lowered to the prisoners in kegs. Those closest to the ladders drank. Others did not. Some men congratulated themselves on grabbing a few mouthfuls of boiled seaweed, but later regretted these, for they became violently sick. The ship was dive-bombed several times by U.S. carrier planes. The attacks ended at dusk. The prisoners were desperate with thirst. Doctors urged them not to drink their own urine, but some did so anyway. "That night was terrible, the worst thing I can imagine," said Rosen. "Discipline went to h.e.l.l, especially among the newer arrivals. I did not myself see anyone biting a man's throat and drinking his blood, but I've heard of it happening from lots of others." Some prisoners wilfully killed others, in the demented struggle for water and food. Next day, they were again subjected to air attack. This time, they were hit.

The j.a.panese crew and guards abandoned ship. The prisoners forced their way on deck to find the superstructure on fire. They took to the sea, and for a few brief minutes revelled in its warm wetness: "It was such a wonderful feeling as one jumped off that ship