70 years ago: Hong Kong's wartime diaries

That bay and beach has been the scene of several beastial atrocities. ((Charter calls it 'Prep School beach'. Modern maps call it 'St Stephen's beach', with Stanley Bay beyond.)) One, I did not witness, but have had it described to me by people who live in ‘C’ bungalow. About March there was a Japanese patrol boat that was stationed just off the Prep School beach, and it used to patrol the coast here presumably to stop any escapes from the camp by junks. They would not let junks approach anywhere near these beaches. One evening a junk was sailing out from Stanley Village. Whether it was too close to this peninsula or not I do not know, but the launch went out and fired upon the junk (setting fire to it and eventually sinking it). The Chinese launched the sampan (or sampans) that it carried and the crew scrambled into them to save their lives - for very few of them can swim. But the inexcorable crew of the launch then turned their machine guns on to the sampans, sinking them and leaving the dead or wounded Chinese struggling pitifully in the water until they drowned.

One evening, a little later, Yvonne and I were sitting on the rocks overlooking Tytam Bay, reading.  Presently a whole fleet of small fishing junks came sailing in with the faint evening breeze, and in the golden rays of the setting sun. They looked so picturesque and familiar, we might have taken our tea out and have been watching a typical local scene in the pre-war days. The leading junk, as it came under the lee of the land furled its sail and the black clothed figures started ‘yuloing’ along with the oars. One by one they followed suit until the whole little flotilla had crept into the bay in the gathering dusk and (I presume) had dropped anchor off Stanley beach. There must have been about 12 to 18 of them. I remember remarking to Yvonne, “I wonder if they are allowed in this bay.”  We collected our things and were returning to our block when we heard a sudden and then continuous fusillade of rifle shots. We never found out what happened, but early next morning, a still morning with hardly any breeze, we saw some 12 to 18 junks and sampans drifting out to sea on the ebb tide. They were spread out in a straight line and looked as though they were roped together. I saw no signs of life on them, but it seemed as though they were being steered out between the islands. They dropped down, passed the headland and slowly drifted from our sight and that was the last we saw of them. A rumour circulated that most of the men had been shot and the women were allowed to escape in the junks with their lives; but this was never confirmed and I don’t know for certain what happened.

I believe I mentioned some time ago that news had reached the camp that many Chinese were being rounded up and taken by junk to places along the coast where they were put ashore and left to fend for themselves. About 6 weeks ago, bus loads and bus loads of Chinese were brought in here to the prison. About 15 buses came with about 30 or more in each bus. One bus stopped outside the prison for some time and I watched the occupants. My heart was wrung by the looks of utter hopelessness, starvation and suffering upon their faces. Some were quite young - children almost - and there was one thin old woman with silver hair sitting and staring dumbly at the drizzling rain. They were all put into the prison, where they remained for about three nights (rumour had it, without food). One woman, apparently, had triplets born to her, poor thing. After that time, two big junks with a large launch (to tow them) and a smaller cutter then made their appearance in Stanley Bay and anchored off the Prep School beach.

Early in the morning these prisoners were marched down to the jetty and taken aboard the junks where they were kept under guard. All this time the weather was miserable; the skies overcast and the rain falling thinly but steadily nearly all day. I could see one fairly respectable looking woman standing at the stern of one of the junks, wearing a long scarlet top coat. These Chinese stood for hours, huddled together in the rain. There must have been scores of them under the hatches (these junks were of the big coastal variety which have considerable storage space for cargo in the holds and with living quarters in the stern) but I expect many of them preferred to stop in the rain above the hatches. These Chinese had been, apparently, rounded up from the streets at random. I hear that all the people in town with jobs, or means of support, are issued with passes; the story being that those who could not produce satisfactory passes to the gendarmerie, if they happened to be challenged or rounded up, were detained, as undesirables, for deportation. Apparently quite a number of fairly respectable people who had forgotten to carry their passes were deported in this way.

During the second day the junks were brought alongside the jetty for a little while, so it was possible that the prisoners were given some food. That evening the launch took them in tow and they put out to sea. But during the evening the wind increased in force, driving up the sea into big waves. It had calmed down again by the morning, but the launch had evidently found it to be too rough for towing purposes and by daybreak the dismal ships were back again at anchor. What floating hells of abject misery they must have been.

During the morning the dead in these stinking hulks of abomination were ruthlessly tossed overboard. I saw three dreary grey corpses floating in the water near the junks. One of the bungalow people said that in one or two cases the wretched prisoners were not quite dead before they were flung over, but they were so thin and emaciated that they could offer nothing but the feeblest resistance. That afternoon the grim squadron again put out to sea and this time, thank God, they went clear away. How many more corpses went overboard in the open sea I cannot say, but I am certain there must have been many. How many ever survived is problematical, but they must have been very few.

By the next morning there were two corpses on the beach; during that night the wind increased again and four more bodies were washed up, one was stark naked and ghastly white. By the next day it had turned black, and curiously enough it looked less repulsive like that. By this time it was an effort to go up and visit Maudie in ‘C’ bungalow. Poor things, it must have been simply horrible for them. After a day or so the stench that arose from the beach was horrible, but fortunately for the inmates of ‘C’ bungalow it came gradually and they never noticed it. Nine more corpses were washed up on the rocky shore towards Stanley Village. One morning, a gang of Chinese coolies was sent down to the beach, where they dug two somewhat shallow graves and buried the ghastly relics of this outrageous episode. Once more we breathed free air.

It is surprising how one becomes hardened to horrible scenes like that. I am sure that had it not been for the sights of mangled humanity I had endeavoured to rescue during the war, this grim spectacle would have given me nightmares for some time.