John Charter's wartime journal: View pages

There is an official silence period from 12:30 to 2:30 during which time everyone is supposed to pursue quiet occupations and not make a noise, as the majority of people lie down for a mid-day rest. This is normally a good rule for a tropical climate, but here it is additionally advisable as our food (though reasonably good now) is not as well balanced and as good as in normal times, and a rest at mid-day conserves one’s strength considerably. We mostly lie on our beds and read for some time and then perhaps have a nap. Being in the living room of the flat we have a ceiling electric fan, and this has proved a Godsend during the hot afternoons and nights, for our room faces east and so we do not get the direct breeze from the prevailing south-west wind of the hot months.

We arise again at from 2 p.m. to 2:30, (one or other of the Fortescues generally has to arise before this time to attend to Adrian who normally awakes earlier than this.) The afternoons are occupied in various ways: we invite people to tea or are invited out in turn usually for about 3 p.m; there are numerous ladies bridge fours (keeping up the Hong Kong traditions!) though quite a lot of men play too, especially as there is a bridge tournament on at present. Y and I debated for a long time whether or not we should enter, and the list was closed by the time we made up our minds!

There were 30 pairs who each had to play the other at the rate of two games per week, (3 rubbers per match) and the tournament was scheduled to last 3 months. We felt the experience would be good for us though we jibbed a bit at being tied down for quite such a long time, for we can always arrange our own fours when we want to. But we feel a little sorry now that we did not enter - it gives one something to do and something to aim at, even though it is only bridge. Harold and Elsie, Tim and Marjorie have entered for it, though Marjorie’s jaunt to the hospital has somewhat put them out of the running.

I seldom play cards in the afternoon, but occupy myself in writing this diary, doing my personal work such as making clogs etc. or going for a bathe.

We have been to see Marjorie today and her temperature is now normal and she hopes to be out soon. The doctors took a blood test and have discovered a bug which they cannot diagnose, so she has been of some medical interest.

Well, to revert to our daily routine. I might here add that at a tea party the food generally takes the form of milkless and sugarless tea, sandwiches of bread and jam and Melba toast or biscuits or sometimes buns, according to capabilities and stock of the hostess! If no one is coming to tea, we generally get a jug full of tea for the room.

After the evening meal there are several alternatives which Y and I adopt – we walk to ‘C’ bungalow at about 7:00 p.m. and sit and chat with Maudie for an hour. She generally spoils us with some sweets or a cigarette which Sophie O’Dell has sent in by parcel or some biscuits she has made. Maudie is very generous to people in these ways.

It is very pleasant sitting out in the cool of the evening, watching the sun sink behind the hills across the sea. The peaks of the hills behind which the sun sets sends great pencils of light and shadow shooting right across the sky to the east; like the bloody fingers of some great giant. It really is rather unusual and beautiful. However, all one can get out of Maudie is, “Give me a cold grey November sky over a bit of England and you can keep all your damned sunsets and sunrises out here!”  And I must say that is a sentiment that most of us hold in our hearts.

((John continues describing the show held on 19th September.)) The entertainment itself (or the various numbers) was quite amusing, but the really funny stuff came from outside. After one or two items had been completed, I noticed several people in the audience looking up to a balcony of the Warder’s Club. Following their gaze I saw a Japanese photographer setting up a fairly large camera on a tripod and directing it at the stage. Presently there was a vivid flash as the photo was taken, producing several squeaks and squeals from the various startled members of the audience. The photographer shifted his camera and took another flashlight photo and then he and his assistants descended to the bowling green to take photos of the audience and entertainers from a lower level - and then the fun began. He took one snap of a performer from the front row and then he turned round and focused his camera on the audience. Suddenly I heard a tittering from one side of the audience and beheld several up-stretched arms with the fists clenched except for the index and middle fingers which were widely forked in a ‘V’ for victory sign! Just at that moment there was a vivid flash followed by a shout of laughter! Then the photographer moved to the sides and back of the green, taking 3 or 4 more flashlights of the audience with the stage in the background. By now of course, the idea had caught on and wherever you looked there was an absolute forest of arms with forked fingers, or arms joined at the elbows and forking out to make bigger ‘Vs’, and a perpetual tittering and babble of sound, while every flash from the photographer was accompanied by an absolute roar of laughter!! I had the best laugh since I came to camp!

It really was too funny to think of this photographer taking pictures for newspaper publication of the kindness with which the British Civilian Internees were being treated by the all victorious Japanese, and all he collected was a forest of V’s from these wretched ungrateful people! No one paid any attention to the unfortunate artistes (except Tim who seemed to think the audience was behaving very badly - which no doubt they were!) and one or two of them, who perhaps could not see what was afoot beyond the footlights, certainly looked rather peeved; however they carried on with grim and truly British determination - and I have no doubt fully appreciated the joke afterwards! And what was the sequel to all this?  Why, the tender pride and dignity of the Japanese was deeply offended and in consequence the concert for this following Saturday (in which Y and I were taking parts!) was cancelled!  Can one imagine anything more puerile?

The C.S. had a long talk about the matter with a gendarmerie officer in which he put forward the really truthful point of view that no insult or offence was intended to the Japanese but that the whole incident was merely the expression of prisoners of war who naturally hoped their own side would ultimately be victorious; and he said, furthermore that if the tables were reversed he was certain the Japanese would make similar gestures of optimism and faith and they would not be resented. I, for one, cannot imagine British authorities behaving in this manner which seems to lack all sense of humour. I think the Japanese would have gained considerable ‘face’ in the eyes of the British here if they had just laughed the whole thing off. As it is, they have lost considerable face by our standards by admitting their exasperation and annoyance.

It appears that the unfortunate Yamashita and Nakazawa (No. 1 and No. 2 Japanese Camp Superintendents) were found (when the photos were developed with wide grins on their faces in one of the pictures. Apparently they were summoned before the authorities and severely dressed down, and (rumour has it) had their faces slapped. Elma told me that with the party of photographers was a fairly high Japanese official (rumour says a gentleman from Tokyo) who had been told that the internees of Stanley were docile and well behaved; so it was unfortunate he should choose that particular night to visit the camp, for he was evidently much annoyed at what occurred. Tim said that later, Gimson was summoned and it was explained that for the British to give the V for victory sign was to suggest the possibility that one day the Japanese army might be defeated, and this was a gross insult to the Emperor as the Japanese army had never been defeated. Well, I suppose an army can go on making tactical withdrawals to the bitter end. But I think these Japanese gentlemen take themselves rather too seriously.

A day or two ago, Yamashita and Nakazawa came down and tore a whole number of our notices from the board. These notices all, apparently, contained some reference to the war, and that, evidently is now strictly forbidden. In future all notices have first to be signed by the Chinese block supervisor before being posted.

Finally, and it would appear, to close this episode, the whole of the B.C.C. was summoned before Mr Yamashita who evidently spoke to them with admirable restraint. He informed them that they must remember we are prisoners here, that there are camp rules that must be observed; that it is incumbent upon us not to upset or offend the gendarmes as he, Yamashita takes his orders from them and cannot do much to intercede on our behalf. In fact he really does seem to do his best for our well being here. In our position it is foolish to attempt to be defiant, but I am glad we showed we have not been quite cowed!  

The internees have been allowed to bathe since the beginning of July. We bathe at Tweed Bay beach, the nicest little beach on the island. It used to be the Governor’s private beach, though the senior prison officers were allowed to use it. The Hackett’s and James Norman had often invited Y and me to tennis or dinner at their houses on the hill here, and we had frequently bathed at the beach. (After the war we continued as a family to use this beach, which is just below Stanley Prison and for which my father had an official pass, until 1967. Each visit must have brought back poignant memories for my parents.)

I was in the original gang of about 6 workmen that the Japanese allowed to go down and clear the way. To start with, we had to remove one of the steel French windows from Billy’s shattered house on the hill. We dug the frame from the brick jambs and concrete lintel without unhinging the door. Then we lugged this down to the barbed wire fence which cut off the approach to the beach along the western wall of the prison. This was at the beginning of June. We propped the door there (the glass of course had been shattered) and there it remained for a month pending final sanction from the Japanese authorities to carry on. When this permission came at last, they provided us with some rough timber for framing and Fraser, Purves and Murphy, all of the PWD, whom I had selected, and I went along with Neilson (still Chairman of the B.B.C.) and MacLeod (head of the camp Sanitary squad), cut the barbed wire fence and with the timber framing erected the door, nailing up the barbed wire to the door post again. Next, we went down to the beach and cut a way through the triple barbed wire fence, erected months ago by our troops as part of the Colony’s defences. We had chosen a couple of very hot days for this job, but it was delightful to get on to the beach; how we longed for a swim.

There was quite a pleasant little Japanese gendarmerie officer from the prison who had been having a swim and he talked to us for some time. A Sikh guard, who had been hovering about at the top of the high bank above the beach, shouted to us to come up; but the Japanese officer (whom he had not seen) shouted at him to come down instead! So the mountain had to come to “Mahommet”. We wandered up and down the beach picking up odds and ends. Purves found a fairly big leather holster (probably for a ‘very light’ pistol) which later he let me have for shoe repair purposes. I found a new looking shoe (Chinese woman) and a small tin of nugget shoe polish. I also found a recent human skull, the lower jaw bone being there, though detached. I examined it and found the teeth quite good (probably the skull of a young man or woman) and the few that were stopped had been stopped by a good dentist. The bridge of the nose seemed very low so I concluded it was the skull of a Chinese, probably washed up from the sea. I removed the skull and pitched it into the shrubbery, to clear up the beach.

Some days later Purves told me that the body of a European soldier had been observed on the beach for many weeks when we first came here. It was along time before we managed to obtain permission from the Japanese to remove and bury the remains of two Canadian soldiers which were on the rocks below the hospital. But I found no bones other than the skull and am still inclined to think this skull or head had been washed up - possibly from a junk.

Lately there has been a great deal of air activity about. On several days flights of 3, 6 or 9 planes have passed overhead. Last Tuesday there was a buzzing of many planes at about mid-day and I rushed out onto the balcony and watched them (9 of them) until they disappeared past the corner of our block. Then I saw several people pointing excitedly so I rushed down and looked up again at the planes. By then they were about a couple of miles away and below them, floating slowly down, were two enormously long and narrow white streamers, one descending or fluttering about in the definite shape of a large V and the other something like a  W. Crowds of people came out of their rooms (this during the sacred rest hour) and there was much speculation as to what they were. Some people thought they were friendly planes that had dropped these V for victory streamers; others said they were pamphlets. But I know this second guess was wrong because I had seen Japanese planes dropping leaflets during the war and the leaflets always blew out into great clouds and did not keep in a narrow line. Well, there was a great deal of excited speculation about these white lines, but nothing was definitely established about it.

The evening before yesterday we watched a convoy of two cruisers and three merchant ships slipping out between the islands as the light faded from the sky. Later that night under a brilliant moon, we had heard a ship’s hooter out at sea giving continuous single blasts. Harold said it was a distress signal and we all jumped out of bed and ran onto the balcony. Then the sound died away and we retired again to bed. Soon after we heard the much deeper siren of another ship and again dashed out onto the balcony straining our ears for gunfire or explosions. But nothing else happened. It was certainly a grand night for submarines. Numerous tramps come in and out every day. I wish we knew what it all means.

There is a feeling of optimism in the camp just now. By its silence on the subject of the Libyan and South Russian Fronts, the HK News virtually admits that the British and Russians are doing well in these vital sectors. The news that somehow filters into camp about the war out here and local conditions is all very heartening. Oh! When will we be out of this wretched camp? September is nearly finished so I am hoping my second prophecy will prove correct and we shall soon have an indication of what will happen to us.

The above mentioned petition ((see his previous diary entry on 30 Sep)) has aroused quite a storm in the camp and has evoked quite a sharp reply from the C.S. There are many people who did not sign it and their hinted inference (and I regret, the inference of the C.S. too) is that the petitioners here, “Can’t take it”, and that all we are worrying about is getting out of here with whole skins as fast as we can so that we can reach a safer place and live in comparative comfort again.

The C.S. started his reply by assuring petitioners that the American Red Cross, the Canadians (Col Doughty, who went with the Diplomats), Sir Arthur Blackburn (the British Consul from Peking, or some such place, who was with his wife, caught here at the outbreak of war; all these and others had instructions fully to acquaint the Home Government with the state of affairs here: that it might gravely embarrass the British Government at this moment to receive appeals from this Colony for the repatriation of civilians: that it was impossible for him to make direct contact with the Home Govt and he had already done all he could to put the facts before the House and he must now wait for them to take action as they, naturally, were in possession of the facts in all theatres of the war while we are almost completely in the dark. He also made the statement, based on the supposition that Britain and Japan might be negotiating for an exchange of prisoners or internees, that should the knowledge of such a petition reach the ears of the Japanese authorities, it might enable them, quite conceivably, to demand better terms for their side of the exchange. So far so good.  All this was reassuring: petitioners received the answer they had asked for, that so far as was possible in the circumstances, all details of conditions here and their likely effects had been placed before the Home Government;  and I am certain that none of us had any intention of embarrassing the Home Government in any way.

But the C.S. then proceeded to administer a severe and, in my opinion, quite unjustified rebuke by saying that all petitioners, by their actions, laid themselves open to the charge of dis-loyalty to their country by endeavouring to push forward their own case to the prejudice, perhaps, of other more vital factors affecting the national war effort. What the Hon. C.S. and the anti petitioners seemed to overlook is the fact that many of the signatories of the petition were motivated by the intensely loyal and patriotic impulse to get away from here where we are completely useless and get to a place where, far from saving our skins we may considerably endanger them by joining up, in the case of many of the men, and by doing essential war work by the women and many of the others.

It seemed a sensible petition to me: if we can be got away from this place, where we are useless to our countries’ war effort and where we might start dying off like flies (at any moment!), so much the better: if we can’t, well we see it through as best we can and keep our chins up. And that’s all we could see in it - no need for base insinuations.

Today is Mr Lammert’s birthday: he is 63. Poor man, he does not yet know that his son Ernest, who was in the HK Volunteers, and whose name is not on the lists of any of the Prisoners of War camps, has in fact been killed. Elsie and Isa know that he is probably dead but even they still entertain the hope that he is alive. Harold, however, has received definite news of his death. Apparently he did or said something to a Japanese officer which was considered by that individual, to be an insult (as it might have been according to Japanese custom but not to ours). At all events, he was apprehended and given a certain length of time in which to apologise. This, apparently, he refused to do and was executed then and there with a sword. Perhaps he was foolhardy, there is no doubt he was extremely brave and he must have felt his honour or chivalry involved if he was prepared to give his life in that way. This all happened a week or so after the surrender. Ernest was 26. (In fact new evidence suggests that his execution occurred on 19th December, when he was captured, as the Japanese advanced through Causeway Bay.)

I poisoned my thumb the other day by quite an insignificant little scratch. However, the poison began to inflame my arm and Billy Hackett dressed it and gave me a dose of Strepticide pills (11 of them over a period of 12 hours). They have made me feel rather low for the past few days but they certainly prevented the poison spreading any further and my thumb is nearly better again now.

One highly novel and, I hope, never to be repeated discovery that we made today was that we had bed bugs in our beds! Sanitary Inspector Purves (the vermin expert!) came along at our request to inspect our beds, because during the last few nights both the Fortescues and Y and I had been bitten by some mysterious creature. An inspection of our bed frame disclosed the presence of the horrid bugs living in the cracks and joints of the frame. Fortunately there were none in our mintoi. The Fortescues had a mattress from the Mee Chow Hotel that someone had given them a month or two ago. This, I think has been the source of infection, for these Chinese hotels are extremely verminous and the other furniture in our room had all come from rooms and flats previously occupied by Europeans and was, I therefore think, quite free from such horrific pests. At all events, the Fortescues mattress had several enormous bugs in its seams and creases and there were scores of eggs round the edge. Their bed frame will be full of them as well. The Bidwell’s and Isa seem to have escaped. Well, tomorrow we are going to have a field day.The bed frames have to be completely dismantled and taken to bits, scrubbed with soap and have boiling water poured over them and into all cracks.

The news that finds its way into camp seems quite cheerful, both from the Eastern and Western theatres of operations. We have heard rumours that all prisoners of war are to be removed from HK and apparently some of the regulars have definitely left. I don’t know what this may mean; evidently something is afoot, but it seems that my hope of something happening at the end of September is not going to materialise. Now I am inclined to name a possible date as the end of the year and a more probable date as February or March of next year! Another winter here; what an appalling thought!

I hear from a perfectly sure source that the Hon. C.S. has written a letter to Otah (Head of all the Japanese prisoner camps in HK) saying that he (the C.S.) had supplied Mr Otah some time ago with the percentage of persons wishing to remain in HK and the percentage that wished to be repatriated. Since then, the C.S. had found that people had changed their views, due largely to reasons of health during the approaching winter, and that he would be glad if Mr Otah would do the courtesy of seeing him to discuss this question of repatriation. Well!  So the petition has had some effect; and it seems to me that our worthy Mr Gimson was just a little piqued by the voice of the rabble! At all events, it proves he is not just pig headed!

The camp is evidently still in disgrace for we have not yet been allowed to hold another concert. Both Y and I are due to appear in different numbers in this next concert - I’m sure the Japs have not been made aware of this! However, they have extended the date for bathing from the end of September to the end of October. At present the N.E. monsoon seems to be alternating with the S.W. (as it does at this time of the year) and for the last few days we have had cooler weather with winds of gale force and bathing has not attracted many people.

Last Thursday Y and I had yet another pleasant surprise. We hoped Devaux would send in some more of our clothes and sure enough he did. This parcel contained for Y: 3 cotton dresses (which she used to wear to the office) and her grey and chalk striped winter costume!  For me - a whitish or very light brown tropical summer suit and a brown winter suit! We were delighted, particularly with the two winter suits. It now makes us wonder what was in the half filled trunk. I certainly never imagined it contained any winter clothes. My brown suit is about my third best and has arrived without its waist coat, but it is in good condition and has years of hard wear in it. (At least I hope so). I hadn’t a suit before at all. I had two odd coats and two odd and very old pairs of trousers. Now all we need are shoes and some underclothes.

The weather recently has been warm and overcast, but three nights ago the wind veered to the N.E. and blew half a gale from that direction. It seemed to blow the clouds right out of the sky and the thermometer dropped about 15 – 20 degrees so that, from sleeping in thin silk night attire (a pair of shorts in my case) and covered only with a sheet, we were still cold last night with two blankets and flannelette pyjamas. Today the wind had dropped to a stiff breeze and the sunlight was simply sparkling; the cold nip has had a wonderful tonic effect, though unfortunately it makes our mouths water for beef steaks and Irish stews and other good, satisfying food.

Yvonne and I decided to take our tea down to the beach this afternoon and sit on the rocks in the sun, sheltered from the cold wind. This beach has a S.E. aspect and is well sheltered from the winter winds. It was beautifully warm in the sun and we wished we had come prepared to bathe. While we were eating our tea we heard a drone of aeroplane engines and then a little while later we heard some distant thuds.

“Did you hear those bombs dropping?” Y said,

“I thought they were ack ack guns”, said I and we both laughed.

There has been a great deal of aerial activity about lately - Japanese planes out on patrol as far as we could make out.

Presently the whistle was blown to clear the beach and we started on our way back. At the Governor’s bathing shed (this beach used to be the Governor’s private beach in pre-war days) we saw Billy Hackett attending to a man who appeared to have had a fainting fit. They were laying him down on a stretcher and I saw it was Alan Johnson of the PWD. Then I saw that his shoulder had been dislocated. He had been bowled over by a wave whilst bathing and had fallen awkwardly on the sand, putting his shoulder out. I helped carry the stretcher up the steps and along the path to the gate where the trolley from the hospital had been brought.

When we reached our room, Elsie told us that a Mr Buchanon, while watching a bowls match this afternoon, suddenly collapsed and died of heart failure. He had had a weak heart for some years so he might have died had he not been in camp. He has a daughter, Nina, who was evacuated to Australia. She left in HK, a father, a brother and a fiancée. Her father died of heart failure; her brother was blown up in the awful accident that occurred when our own troops fired upon the lighter that was bringing over dynamite from Stone Cutters Island when we abandoned that fort; and her fiancée, Ernie Lammert, was beheaded by the Japanese. Poor girl, she may not yet have had the news of any of these deaths and it is possible she will hear of them altogether.

People were all agog with the news of the planes that came over this afternoon. They had seen the planes diving in the Kowloon direction and had heard the thud of the detonations (the same that we had joked about on the beach) and seen puffs of AA shells bursting in the sky. We were all very excited about it as can be imagined. Was HK being attacked at last? Were we near the end of our imprisonment?  After the evening meal we heard more droning and dashed out to gaze skyward with a few hundred other internees. We could make out, very high up, a flight of seven planes. Then following them another flight of six. As they wheeled they reflected the sun and shone like gleaming silver streaks high above us. They disappeared and later came around again in another big circle - Japanese patrols, obviously. Well, it shows they are agitated about something. There is just the possibility that it may have been a big anti-air attack practice for HK, but I doubt it. In any case, the paper had scheduled the practice for Wed. 28th and this is only Monday. Tomorrow’s paper will be interesting!

In the afternoon Y and I went to Christine Corra’s 21st birthday. I had made her an ash tray for the occasion. I cannot claim that the idea was original for I saw Hill making one first and it was he who gave me the principal piece of material, a rectangle cut from the shell case or cartridge of an AA shell. I don’t know the technical name for this metal or alloy, but I believe it is made from a compound of copper, tin and zinc. It is very tough; it can be brought to quite a bright polish but it seems to dull rather quickly though I imagine the metal quickly forms a protective oxide on the surface and further corrosion is then arrested. So it is not the most suitable of metals for this purpose.

However, with an ungainly 2 lb ball headed hammer and ye olde blacksmiths anvil, I managed to hammer out a rectangular ash tray with a lip, leaving an indented or ‘beaten’ surface finish.  Then I fished out our old matshed latch key, scratched its outline on the tray and with a small chisel, cut out the key shape from the centre of the tray. Then I filed the edges smooth, pushed the latch key into position (it was slightly thicker than the tray and so its surface is therefore slightly raised) and then got the tin smith to run a little solder into the crack or joint to hold it tight. It was a job scraping and cutting off the superfluous solder, but I managed it with the aid of Jack Armstrong’s pen knife (on condition that I sharpened it again for him!); Y polished the whole thing up with wood ash and it really looked presentable. I had not time enough in which to cut an inscription, but if Christine wishes, I can put on her name, date and ‘Stanley Internment Camp’. I wish I had thought of the idea for Yvonne’s 21st. The latch key purports to be a ‘Yale’ and on reversing the tray the words on the back of the key are ‘Made in Germany’!  A British shell case and a German key: not inappropriate and, I hope symbolical of better relations in the future.

The party was sumptuous and Christine had some lovely presents considering this is an internment camp. Someone had sent her a box of paints from town from ‘Daddy’, who is a prisoner of war at Sham Shui Po. The Corra’s are Austrians by birth and though they applied for British nationality some years ago, they have not yet quite completed the necessary 5 years. Mr Corra lost his very good job in ‘Standard Oil’  ‘A.P.C.’ or ‘I.C.I.’  (which ever firm it was) when the governing body of the firm decided to employ no foreigners. Mr and Mrs Corra and Christine were all interned as enemy aliens for the first few days of hostilities in HK, but I am glad to say Mr Corra was allowed to join his unit in the HK Volunteers, and Miss and Mrs Corra were allowed to resume their VAD duties. They are naturally sensitive to this position and some people in this camp have said the most unkind and outrageous things to them. I am quite convinced they are intensly pro-British and anti Nazi though naturally enough they love their own Austria. I have met Mr Corra once only, but Christine and Mrs Corra are really charming. Christine has a younger brother in America. She hopes after the war to go to America to study art.

Christine and Yvonne now take a class between them at the camp school at St Stephens. They take alternate days (Mons to Fri from 8:30 to 11 with 5 half hour periods. They have a mixed class of children, from 9 to 11 years old. They have worked out their own syllabus which I believe includes Scripture, French, Arithmetic, Dictation, Spelling, History, Geography and Drawing………oh, and English grammar. Christine is Catholic and Y Protestant and they both teach Scripture (Old Testament) so it is very democratic or interdenominational (or whatever the right word is), though I daresay they attempt nothing in the nature of doctrinal instruction. Yvonne seems to enjoy it considerably. They started about the middle of October. 

The other exciting piece of news is that there is a whole consignment of goods from Australia, brought here for war prisoners in the Kamakura Maru. The prisoners of war in Sham Shui Po and Argyle Street Camps have had their allotments and the remainder is for Stanley Internment Camp. The list of goods is as follows (to be divided amongst the 2400 now remaining here):- 3,600 individual parcels – 500 boxes of sugar – 100 cases of tea (Indian I hope) – 130 x 28 lb cases of cocoa – 30 cases of vitamin caramels – 76 cases of dried raisins – 27 cases of dried fruit – 113 cases of dried pears – 120 bales of assorted clothes – 4 cases of hats.

No one seems to know how much the boxes of sugar are likely to contain, but in any case we can get 1/5 of a box per person and I doubt if any box would be made to contain less than 20 to 25 lbs of sugar - so we should get 4 or 5 lbs each. That will be marvellous! One hundred cases of tea sounds a very liberal supply and the cocoa works out at 1 ½ lbs per person! And it seems we shall each have a fairly liberal helping of the other things. It sounds horrid to gloat over and calculate out the gifts in this way but one has to allow for the mental outlook of an under nourished internee who has been largely cut off from all his accustomed luxuries!  Anyway, our Australian friends who sent out the gifts would, I think, be pleased and gratified if they could see the excited anticipation that the news has created. Now we are only afraid it may never actually get here!

Mr Zindel has, apparently opened one of the individual parcels and says they contain 12 different things. What these different things are we are not quite sure and (as is usual in this camp) the length of the list and variety of articles has grown and grown and now includes a tin of bully beef, cheese, butter, milk, 4 lbs chocolate, a tinned cake, plum pudding, tobacco etc. Well time (we hope) will prove.

My last entry was made on the Armistice Day Anniversary of the last World War. On the previous Sunday, 8th Nov., we had an Armistice Day Sunday Service. It was conducted by Revd E. Sandbach, he being chosen as the only person in camp who fought in the last war as a soldier. He gave an inspiring address; his theme being that the sacrifices of those who died in both the last war and in this were made in the faith and belief that they were setting the stage for a world at peace; that it is the duty of those who survive to see these sacrifices are not made in vain again and to dedicate oneself afresh to God and His kingdom on earth. Mr Sandbach read three of Rupert Booke’s poems and “We will remember them”.  Wreathes and poppies made in camp were placed on many of the war graves. It must have been a sad day for many in this camp, living on the very battlefield on which their husbands and sons were killed and with their graves in their midst. All those that I know have been wonderfully plucky. We observed no 2 minutes silence on the 11th; I believe the 2 minutes silence has been discontinued in England since this second war began.

I have many memories of past Armistice Day observances: last year Y and I stood alone in the hills above Tytam reservoir, where we had taken our food for a picnic; I can remember the silent and crowded scene at St Giles Circus in London where we used to go from the Architectural Association, the motionless men on scaffolding and in the suspended cradles on the façade of an adjacent building, the two sounds of a flag flapping at half mast and the jingle of a horse shaking it’s bridle miles down New Oxford Street. I can remember the little service on the greenswood outside the estate office at Welwyn Garden City when an ex-army bugler sounded a somewhat uncertain “Last Post” on his old bugle. But during the last war I was too young to remember any lost individuals; it was, to me, far more a national and international day of remembrance. Now, alas, I shall associate Armistice Day with the loss of many good friends. Still, Armistice Day for this war has not yet been fixed and, who knows, we may yet have some more work to do.

News lately has been magnificent: the Germans virtually finished in Libya (one cannot fail to pay tribute in passing to the brilliant soldiering of the German General Rommel); that the Americans have landed and occupied many parts of French and Italian North Africa; that air raids have been continuing in Hong Kong chiefly over Kowloon and New Territories. We sometimes hear distant thuds and we hear and see on nearly all days planes buzzing about to the N.E. They are too high to identify markings, but the drone of the engines are different between the Americans and the Japanese planes and we spend our time listening and guessing. Harold saw three planes yesterday, unmistakably going down behind the hills in steep dives, one after the other. Anyway, the Japanese, who seem to be doing their best to keep out of the camp news of air raids, made a pretty naïve admission of them on Wednesday.

Last Friday morning the camp was buzzing with the incredulous rumour that all men between and including the ages of 21 and 34 were to be put in prison. After the lunch meal an official notice was posted which stated that men of these ages who had not got their wives in camp with them were to spend the hours between 6:30 p.m. and 7:00 a.m. in the prison.

Now the question of the I.R.C. food distribution again.

I must have been cut short in any intended dissertation about the food. Perhaps that was as well as the matter has not yet been finally settled.

Members of the BCC met together and approved the suggestion put forward by Macleod that the bulk food should be rationed and issued once a week or once a month. John Sterricker, the secretary, in his weekly Camp Bulletin, stated that this scheme of distribution had been submitted to the Japanese authorities for their sanction, he added, unfortunately, that the Japanese had been told it was the wish of internees that the food should be distributed in this manner. This raised a storm – or storms – of protest from various sections of the community, the two chief complaints being the community as a whole had never been given a chance to air its views on the subject and that therefore the BCC had no right to put forward the scheme as one which represented the wishes of the people. Also what guarantee had the community, in the light of former thefts and pilferings, that individuals would ever get their quota of the food: the I.R.C. goods had been sent to British prisoners as a whole but it was intended that everyone was to get an equal share and the only way that this could be done with certainty was to issue everyone their full quota straight away and let internees look after their own stuff and eat it as and when they want to and not as they are told to. People in the married Quarters demanded a public meeting and an explanation by the Block Chairman and Committee. This meeting was accordingly held on 12th December ((typo - the meeting was held on 12th November)) and a sickening sort of meeting it proved to be.