Chaplains' Stories - A Story of Courage in World War II
This is a story told by Chaplain L. Marsden to the Catholic Weekly in November 15, 1945.
"UNDER THE HEEL OF A BRUTAL ENEMY OUR CATHOLIC BOYS KEPT THE FAITH" (cont)It was about this time that some 10,000 men, including about 3000 Australians, left us to go to Rangoon, and it was not long before we heard rumours that they were working on an air-strip. Father Smith, S.M. and Father Corry, 0.P., were their chaplains.
For the rest of the year the Catholic life of the Changi prison camp was quite normal. By Christmas working parties in Singapore had completed the tasks allotted to them and all had returned to Changi.
Early in the New Year men began to move out in parties of several thousands for an unknown destination. The news soon spread, however, that they were bound for Bampong, outside of Bangkok, to begin construction of a railway into Burma.
The party, which had gone to Rangoon, having completed the air-strip, had begun work on the railway from the Burma end. It was the intention of the Japanese, we learned later, that these parties should meet somewhere near Three Pagoda Pass.
All these men who were transferred from Singapore were placed under the Thailand-Burma Command but the two parties which left later, and which were known as "F" Force, and "H" Force, were not transferred from the Singapore Command, even though they went into Thailand. This fact explains why the Thailand Command took absolutely no interest in their welfare.
The situation at the time, as far as we could gather from the more friendly guards, was this: The engineer in charge of the Burma-Thailand railway project had made a pagan boast to the Emperor that he would commit harakiri if the railway was not finished by September, 1943.
While the trucks were being laid on fairly level ground conditions were not so bad, but engineering problems quickly cropped up when mountainous jungle regions were reached.
Rather than halt to make cuttings and tunnels, the engineer-in-charge decided to by-pass the worst country and return to it when work on the flat country had been completed. He then made an estimate of the manpower at his disposal and the work still to be done, and came to the conclusion that he needed more men. So he sent to Changi for "F" Force and "H" Force to put through about 20 cuttings through as many ridges. It was agreed that the men recruited for these farces should be returned to Singapore as soon as the work was finished, and it was estimated that this would take about three months
The conditions endured by the arrivals, who had actually been transferred from Singapore to Thailand Command were brutal and primitive, but they were infinitely better than the conditions which faced "F" and 'H' Forces, for the very simple reason that the Thailand Command looked upon them as Singapore's responsibility. Even the Japanese guards, who accompanied these two Forces were ignored by the Thailand Japs, and had to battle as best they could for their rations. Our own rations consisted of eight ounces of rice a day and sometimes a little dried fish or dried seaweed.
'F' Force and 'H' Force left Singapore in groups of 600. Time of departure from the Changi camp was usually about 2am and the men rode into Singapore in trucks - about 50 to each truck- taking their equipment with them. At the railway station the men were herded into steel trucks used in Malaya for carrying rubber and tin. The trucks were about 5 feet 6 inches wide and 15 feet long, with a small door on each side, and no other ventilation.
The railway itself was of 3 feet 6 inch gauge, which did not exactly make for comfortable travelling. During the day the side of the trucks became unbearably hot, and during the night the men shivered with cold.
Twenty-seven men were crowded into each truck, together with their baggage. So congested were the trucks that the men had to sit facing each other with their legs interlaced. At night they had to take turns in sleeping, but even when stretched out it was practically impossible to sleep.
On the first day our train travelled from 6.00 a.m. to 11.00 a.m. without a stop. We were then allowed to leave the trucks and buy fruit on the railway platform. The men had been without fruit for many months, and it had a disastrous effect upon them. Sickness broke out, and there were no facilities for coping with it. Many men were in agony by 11 o' clock that night when we reached Kuala Lumpur. Here we were given a container of cold rice, a small piece of dried fish and a bucket of black tea. We were given 20 minutes to get the food, dish it out, eat it, and return to our trucks.
In those five hideous days and nights we made I think, only six stops for food, and on each occasion were given only a little rice and fish.
We arrived at Bampong at 3 o'clock in the morning of the sixth day, and were marched to a transit camp a mile from the station. This camp was used as a staging depot, and all parties came through it on their way to the railway line. None of the units passing through had any opportunity to exercise hygiene control, and the whole camp was little better than an accumulation of filth.
While we of "H" Force were resting in this camp for two days we heard rumours that 'F' Force had been started out on a march into the jungle of 250 miles, and this proved to be true. With them had gone the amazing Father Dolan, the oldest of our chaplains and an inspiration to all who knew him.
"F" Force was at this time made up of commparative1y fit troops, and in spite of great hardships reached its destination almost intact.
"H" Force was the last asked for from Changi, and included many men who had recovered from battle wounds, and many whose health had been broken by malaria, dysentery and various forms of beri-beri.
At 10 o' clock on the second night we left Bampong for the rail-head in the jungle. Altogether there were 3000 of us in "H" Force, made up of five trainloads of 600 each. We travelled with an Australian party of 600 under Colonel Oakes, commanding officer of the 26th Battalion. The medical officer was Major K.J. Fagan, of Yass. The senior medical officer of the entire party of 20 doctors and 100 orderlies was Major Marsden, formerly of Prince Alfred Hospital.
One of the first tortures inflicted on the men was the issue of boots. For 12 months they had wandered around Changi camp barefooted and now they had to set out on a long trek wearing, hard, new hoots. Within an hour men were breaking down with blistered feet; others were cracking up through weakness and general debility.
The Japanese would not allow us to leave any men behind and Korean guards with fixed bayonets were stationed at the front and rear of the marching column. Their orders were explicit - the party must he brought through intact - and when someone fell out through illness, his comrades had to pick him up and carry him.
On this first night began Major Fagan's medical problems, and on this and succeeding nights he gained the respect, admiration and affection of the entire force. By the time the long march had ended Major Fagan's name had become a by-word among the men, and he will never be forgotten by those who survived the desperate hardships of Thailand.
The Japanese orders were that we should march for an hour and spell for 15 minutes, but Major Fagan had no spell at all. Each rest period he spent in tending the sick, and during the hours march he was moving up and down the column, helping the men and encouraging them.
Each night we were supposed to cover 20 miles and for six nights we maintained this pace. For the first four nights we enjoyed dry weather tramping along roads about four inches deep in dust. On the fifth night at 10 o' clock, while climbing the side of a mountain, the monsoon hit us, and the water fell in sheets. The night was pitch black; but the Japanese insisted on going on. The leading guard carried a torch and our commanding officer followed him, the rest of us trailing behind, in Indian file, one hand touching the man in front. At least 20 times during the night some of us fell, and I think I was luckier than most.
At the end of that night's march we came to a clearing, and the men fell down exhausted in heaps.
"H" Force was in a pretty sad condition when it reached its destination. An area of about two acres, which had been cleared of heavy timber was allotted to us as a camping site. It was practically covered with bamboo stumps, which had been cut off a foot or two from the ground.
We were given 22 old tent flys, a few blunt tools, six big cooking pots, 13 bags of rice, some dried seaweed and tea. We had to set up tents, control hygienic arrangements, put in a drainage scheme, build a kitchen, and make a shelter for 40 sick. We were given only a day and a half to complete this job.
At this stage there were 530 in our party and on the third day we were ordered to have 500 men ready to start work on the railway-line. The 30 men left in camp for general duties, including officers, doctors, medical orderlies, cooks, hygiene men and chaplains, were hopelessly inadequate. Cooking arrangements Frequently: broke down, hygiene broke down, and the camp was in a state close complete chaos.
The working parties had to walk three-quarters of a mile to the railway-line. Their task was to put a cutting, 70 yards long by 10 feet wide, across the side of a hill. At its highest point the cutting was 40 feet deep. The whole job was to be finished in three months.
Some of the men were formed into parties to drill holes. The Japanese placed the dynamite and set off the charges. The rest of the men then had to move the broken rock with their bare hands.
It was not unusual for the Japanese to pick out an unusually large rock, and ask three or four men to lift it. They would take no excuses. If the men were unable to move it, they would stand over them and scourge them with bamboo rods until they dropped.
When they had amused themselves sufficiently, the Japs would summon eight or ten men to shift the rock.
On one occasion, an Australian soldier fell exhausted by the side of the embankment. The Japs wanted his comrades to push him over and tip a truckload of rock on top of him. The men refused and several were beaten badly for not obeying the order.
All this time we were afraid of cholera and felt that an outbreak was inevitable because it was impossible for the men to eat sterile food, or to have sterile food containers. The men were warned never to drink water that had not been boiled; but it was impossible to keep a check on all of them, and we knew that some, when overcome by thirst while at work on the railway were drinking from jungle pools.
The condition of the men became progressively worse. Before leaving the camp at day-break they were given about two ounces of rice that had been ground and boiled until it looked and tasted like glue. Their mid-day meal, which they carried in dixies, was a mug of dried rice, and sometimes a little dried fish or dried vegetable. When they returned to camp in the evening they were lined up for a check parade, which took from an hour to an hour and a half. It was always dark when the doctor began his sick parade, and up to 300 men would parade before him. This parade rarely ended before 10.00 p.m. and at the completion the doctor would make up a list of the men who could not go out to work next day.
The medical list would be handed to the different officers who had to prepare the working parties and by midnight these officers would have decided which men would go out and which would he presented to the guards for exemption.
The Japs at first demanded five hundred a day and we would be able to produce only 470, so sick and exhausted men were forced to go out to the railway-line and were treated by their guards as if they were fit and strong.
Inevitably and in spite of all manner of threats, the numbers of men able to go to the railway-line fell day by day. The Japanese always demanded about 50 men more than we could supply and would never be satisfied unless they finally obtained 25 more than could reasonably be expected to go out. There were always at least fifty men in the party who could barely drag themselves to work.
Then the Japanese decided to work day and night shifts and I have seen men coming back from a hard day's work change places with sick comrades going out to begin a night shift.
The continuous torrential rain was now making conditions at the camp worse than ever. With mud and slush everywhere it was impossible to sleep on the ground. We built platforms of rough bamboo in every tent and packed 27 men into each. They were so jammed together that if a man wanted to turn over during the night ten men lying with him had to turn over too.
Some mornings the men would have to get up an hour earlier than was necessary in order to give their sleeping space to exhausted men coming in from the night shift.
In this veritable hell on earth God was not forgotten. On the first Sunday after our arrival Mass was offered on a table which had been had been hastily erected the previous day for an acute appendix operation. After that we had Mass every Sunday at at a quarter to six before work started and every Catholic in the camp who was able to move, attended. Apart from the Sunday Mass, daily Mass was celebrated whenever possible from six in the morning till 10 at night.
One night I will never forget, it was still dark and Mass had just begun in the flickering light of two tiny candles when out of the jungle marched a battalion of Japanese fighting troops carrying great flaming torches and singing war songs. They filed through the camp and passed within two yards of the altar. There we were, a handful of Australian Catholics, worshipping the gentle Christ in the heart of the Thailand jungle and marching arrogantly past us were 500 pagans chanting to the god of war. The words of the Gospel must have come to other minds than mine: "Go ye, therefore, teach ye all nations, baptising them in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.
During all this time, due to the shortage of men available for camp duties, it was necessary for all fit personnel in camp from the commanding officer down to the privates to chop bamboo for hut construction, dig drains and latrine pits, help with the cooking and general work
The numbers of sick continued to increase and then on June 15 we had our first case of cholera. The patient died four hours after reporting sick.
I think that was our worst day in Thailand. We had been hoping against hope that the camp would escape cholera and we knew that when the first case was reported, others would follow quickly.
A group had gathered round the Regimental Aid Post tent when Major Fagan came out from his examination. He looked more worried than usual and when I asked what was the trouble, he just said: "I think we have our first cholera case in there."
The news spread quickly, of course and it had a disastrous effect on the men's morale. They had endured the most incredible hardships: they had seen their comrades bashed and beaten: they had starved and suffered: but they had not lost hope. They could still joke about the Japs and retain their faith in eventual victory. But you can't joke about cholera.
To make matters worse, all the men were getting severe colic pains and at some stage or other, every man in that afflicted camp felt sure that he had contracted the dread disease.
About this time, the Japanese announced that they proposed to move into our camp 350 British troops - slaves who had completed their own task further along the line. Both the commanding officer and the medical officer did all in their power to dissuade the Japanese. They asked that the British soldiers be left where they were, at least, until the cholera was checked, effective hygiene control established, and all the men given another anti-cholera injection.
The Japanese were completely unsympathetic. They were then asked to hold up work on the railway for one day to allow the entire force to get hygiene under control and establish sterilisation centres for food containers. Again the Japanese refuse and only a handful of men were left in camp.
In no time cholera was raging. It was quite a common thing for the commanding officer, a few others and myself to go to the Cemetery at 9 a.m. and dig a grave for one man. By 10 o'clock a messenger would come to say that another cholera patient had been taken to hospital.
Leaving my pick and shovel I would return to the camp give the Last Sacraments, if the lad was a Catholic, and if not, say with him acts of Faith, Hope and Charity, Contrition and an act of love of God. Then back to the cemetery to help increase the size of the grave.
One morning we began digging in the hard, rocky ground to bury a boy who had died during the night. Seven times during the day I was recalled to the camp and by dusk we had made the grave big enough and deep enough for eight of our deceased comrades.
The Japanese became so afraid of catching cholera themselves that they insisted
on our burning the bodies of the dead. It is hard to know whether the work
entailed in chopping up sufficient wood was a greater hardship, or a more heart
rending task than digging the graves. Early every morning, the Co., officers
and whatever other men could be spared, left the camp and spent the whole day
chopping wood. In the evening a great funeral pyre would be built, and the
burial service would be read
beside the fire. Next morning the remains would he gathered and given a Christian
burial.
The first cholera death occurred on June 16, 1943. By September 7, when we had completed our work on the railway, and were about to evacuate the camp, I had buried approximately 149 Australians and 150 of the British force, which had been moved in with us during the first days of the epidemic.
During the last few days of our work on the railway-line, only 60 men out of the original 850 were able to work.
I was fortunate in obtaining one concession from the Japanese, which was not granted to other chaplains. I was allowed to visit other camps along the track to which no chaplain was attached and was, therefore, able to bring the Sacraments to men who otherwise would have been completely deprived of their graces and consolation.
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