70 years ago: Hong Kong's wartime diaries

Walked from home with Mum just as it was getting light, and went to office ((Mum to Jockey Club hospital.)  Much shelling by Happy Valley in night.

Mr Puckle (Director of ARP) gave me a lift to the CSO tunnel ((beneath Government House, we entered by entrance in Lower Albert Road opposite CSO building.)).  Peggy Wilson had already arrived. ((We secretaries worked in 2 shifts - Peggy and I, then Bonnie and Charles.  Our job was to keep a log of events (mostly messages per phone calls), and also to make out identification cards for ARP people.  

Boiling hot in tunnel, I was glad of short-sleeved jumper.   Strong smell of raw wood from the props round the  earthy walls etc..  Various Govt. departments stationed in the tunnel which had been made with sections at all angles.  An alcove just inside the entrance was I think meant to be for toilets, but these were not present - just a few chairs without seats. There may well have been toilets in other sections, but for calls of nature we ran over Lower Albert Road to the ones in the CSO building.))

Off duty at 3pm, had meal at Parisian Grill ((my pass allowed me to eat there free of charge.)).  Bought lemonade as an excuse to stay longer when the siren sounded. Got into conversation with a stranger, Mr Robinson  of Metals Control Office.  Then went to Dina House, 2nd floor, as instructed, to get a billet, but couldn't get any satisfaction about where I was to sleep.  Phoned Olive's office and she and Topper (who was then visiting her) came and carried me off.  Had dinner with them at Gloucester, where met Eric Kennard ((Govt. clerk)) and he and one other escorted me back to Dina House where I met up with Mr G. P. Murphy and he directed me to a camp bed in a room with two ARP girls Janet Broadbridge and Lillian Hope (both from Kowloon).  Hardly slept because it was so cold, also had no nightwear as my luggage hadn't arrived.

We hear rumours that the Mainland is being evacuated and that the Royal Scots, Middlesex Regt. and the Indian Regts. are fighting a rearguard action back to Kowloon. Other rumours are that looting and rioting by Chinese agitators is taking place in the city of Kowloon. Police have opened fire to stop the looting.

I have a very busy day, cajoling and driving the Chinese bakers to get a move on in order to keep up the bread production. I beat down and set the Aldershot ovens, as the Chinese wearing shorts find it too hot on their legs. In fact my No.2 Baker Tam Tong gets his legs burned. So I give him a pair of my Army slacks to protect his legs.

Hammond, Tuck, and Bonner also get stuck in and do a lot of the work.

Aldershot ovens consist of two segments of half circle metal laid end to end. They are set up in a row (in our case 15) the rear is sealed off, the sides and back are built up with turves or sandbags. A trench is dug in the front and about 1ft of soil is placed on the top to keep in the heat. Firewood is placed inside the ovens and when burnt down to the embers the bread on metal trays is set on top of the red hot embers. The front is then sealed off with a metal door and mud to keep the heat and steam in. It takes about 1 hr to bake the bread.

The following morning (Dec 13th) I was ordered to take some lorries to Aberdeen and await the arrival of HMS Thracian, which was bringing the rearguard over from Kowloon.  The main body had been brought over in the afternoon and night of the 12th.

When the “Thracian” arrived I had the opportunity of talking to Brig. Wallace who expressed the greatest admiration for the Japanese soldiers.  He told me they were extremely well armed and thoroughly competent.  He estimated they were in very large numbers and that had been the deciding factor in eliminating our small force, for although their casualties had been very heavy there was always a fresh man to fill the gap, whereas our force was too small to start with and was utterly exhausted by three to four days continual fighting.  Also the complete lack of aircraft added greatly to our difficulties.

On the night of the 13th we again went to Stanley, this time we worked all night.  The one big gun out of the three at Stanley which was able to fire landwards was firing three shells every half hour.  These guns were supposed to be extremely accurate and the gunners were confident they were inflicting considerable damage, but of course they had no air reports to help them.

((Dan wrote the following notes in 2013. The exact dates of the evacuation and hostage-taking aren't known, but should be sometime between the outbreak of war and the surrender:))

Island Evacuees: Some Caucasians from outlying islands were evacuated soon after the war started by the police. Two former neighbors of mine remained on Cheung Chow, I suppose because they had refused to leave.

Miss Marion Potter, age 77, British, lived across the dusty road from us off on a small headland. She was a sweet old lady, always courteous, but lived a lonely life. It was due to the 17 cats that she kept. They made such a powerful odor of scat, that it stung the eyes in the face of the sea breeze, and may as well have been a moat full of crocodiles. She was later in Stanley, at least if it was the same Potter listed in Greg Leck's book.

Mr. McKenzie, a bit further away, an elderly man, lived alone in a stone house. He perfectly fit the stereotype of a cranky mean old miser. When I was 7 years old going on 8, he got some new boarders, Alan and Marjorie Thompson, fiery red headed twins my age, and their mother - the father was off on missionary work in China. One day Mrs. Thompson sent poor little Marjorie over to borrow a teapot.

McKenzie, seeing opportunity knock, told her to pick up one that had a loose handle. When the handle lifted off, the pot smashed on the floor. After making a nasty scene, he tacked it, at an inflated price, on their rental bill - hard on their meager budget. No one in the village would work for him, as he had cheated them. In several cases, after some workman had conscientiously finished a job, he told lies - making up a false pretext of shoddy workmanship and refused to pay anything at all.

Soon after the police departed Cheung Chow, this seperate pair was rounded up together by bandits demanding ransom. Fat chance of that. If McKenzie had anything buried, he would have seen them to hell before telling about it. I can see him answering all queries in as aggravating a manner as he could muster. For this they unsurprisingly killed him.

Miss Potter however, treating them courteously, was treated with respect and was eventually released.

...

When at the gathering, Laura Darnell and I and were accompanied by David Bellis on a walk about on Cheung Chau, led by a Chinese resident friend of Geoff Emerson. David had with him an old map from the land office with houses in the hill section and names of the owners - dating to the 1930's. ((See the map at http://gwulo.com/node/12725))

I ought to have recognized 6 or 12 names, probably, but saw only one I knew - the name of the not so nice miser McKenzie.

Ergo others I knew of there were renters, not owners. In those days Chinese were not allowed to own on that part of Cheung Chau beyond some certain stone boundary markers - a retrograde rule now long rescinded.

I would suppose that McKenzie's nationality would be noted in the old land ownership records, if those exist at the land office. Maybe on the jurors list - though probably not so much. My information by rumor really is that the brigands who kidnapped him and Miss Potter - killed him. Probably true and plausible when I imagine his interactions with his captors - barking in their faces so to speak with no word of where he had hid his pot of gold (which probably no longer existed).

Miss Potter had an almost regal courtesy extended to even little children such as myself in those days - probably even to brigands. It must have charmed them also and led to her release. When at the Gathering I saw her headstone at the cemetery in Stanley. It read Marion POTTER, DIED 17.8.1943 AGED 81. She was a spinster ex school teacher, I believe. She and McKenzie had not wanted to evacuate or were simply missed in 1941 when police had taken other Europeans to Hong Kong. When she was kidnapped and later went to Stanley she left 17 cats behind.

In thinking of the place I recall we had a resident amah for awhile. She did the ironing with an interesting antiquated iron - made of cast iron. No electricity. It was hollow with a little iron door. Glowing charcoals were put inside. This made it really hot. Starch was applied in an old fashioned way with the water preventing scorching of cloth being ironed. Our amah took a mouthful and spewed it out like an atomizer in a rather uniform spray! The steam hissed out as the iron struck the damp fabric. 

7.45 am   A perfectly quiet night – and so a lovely sleep. A bit stiff this morning but otherwise fine – now to my new office to organise it.

Another very busy day but quiet – the blitz however is coming. We have really been experiencing an armistice today. I was told by W.J. that 3 Japanese Officers accompanied by 2 European women, one the wife of Rene’ Lees who is acting P.S. at Govt House and a Mrs Macdonald.  The papers say she is pregnant.  The launch bearing the party had a large banner on it with the word “Peace”.  Well I suppose they had a conference some place and I think they were just told “nothing doing”.  Sometime later the general message came through that an intensified bombardment was considered imminent. Well 6.45pm – it hasn’t come yet.  We are blessed – the first time I think I’ve ever blessed a Peak fog! – with really thick weather -  it’s clammy again - so perhaps it won’t come off.   But I saw my first casualties today.  I came up in the Peak Tram as I didn’t want to take my driver all the way up to the Peak if I could avoid it. I don’t know what caused them – shrapnel probably – in Kennedy Road just near the bridge there were two poor coolies.  We have been thrown terribly out of gear because no ordinary burials are taking place so besides “catering” for war casualties I have to bury everybody who is so inconsiderate as to die just now.  Bad taste in humour I know, L.O., but only stern realities these days – and so we have no sentiment.

I wonder what’s coming tonight – fog stops bombing but they have accurate plans and shelling can take place in any weather.  Like Win I do not like the whine of shells.  You’ll probably never hear the one that hits you and I’m told that when you hear the whine the shell has long passed you.  As sound travels slowly. Still it isn’t nice to listen to!  I haven’t the wind up, Loved One, but I don’t want to take any risks.  If I can be completely safe - though I’d have no comfort - in the basement or first floor of Northcote Training College - why stay here just to look after the house? – and our goods.  I have offered Win to come here and have the whole place, and she has refused – ok by me!   News now on and I can’t think what the reaction will be on the English speaking population of H.K. We know where the Japanese are – right in Kowloon –everywhere - and yet London scoffs the Tokyo report that they are where they are!

Well Honey I’ve had chow now – compradore will no longer supply anything and I am trying to see where I can get stuff now.  We should be able to draw rations but the Food Controller - though he is not just a mere civil servant - but a banker with a staff of “business men” has failed to do his stuff.  I don’t blame him in the slightest – he had an impossible task when the Military pinched every lorry he had expected to have to sort out his stores.

Wireless out here is of course quite impossible now - the Japanese are in control in Shanghai and they are blanketing everything.

Well  Adored    I think I must tuck down now – I’m not making up my mind tonight. I don’t want to leave 152 if it is safe and if I can have a car up and down, but I really can’t go on with this feeble sort of transport.  Goodnight Adored      Billie

Today as most subsequent days was to prove fairly uneventful during daylight hours. During day both Mike and Tai had been making attempts to find their contact guerrilla man but without any success as he seemed to have vanished.

At dusk we set out on another patrol which soon proved that the previous evening’s parade had been effective as the roads apart from an old (odd?) police patrol were quiet and no lights were to be seen.

We had more or less come to the conclusion that all was quiet and were proceeding up to our observation point of the previous evening when suddenly a burst of T.G. fire lit the road in front of us. Down we flopped, not very gracefully but very rapidly into a tarmac road and proceeded to dig in and move so that the trees by the roadside would afford us cover. Realising it was one of our own patrols Mike hailed them but was answered by another burst which set me to wishing I was small enough to sit inside my tin hat. Mike then addressed the audience and spoke clearly, fluently, and volubly – his voice rising in a crescendo of rage and in language of which only the last two “buggers” and “bastards” could be clearly heard.

This eloquence seemed to remind the Afridis – as they later turned out to be – of the voices of their O.C. and, after mutual compliments being paid, we proceeded to the post who, after examining us and smoking our cigarettes, allowed us to proceed, the sergeant having expressed his regret and sealed the bond of friendship by repeating “Fuck Japanese”. A quick visit to their H.Q. – another of the few places which impressed – both officers and men striking one as efficient and alert and another day was over.