4 - 6 Jun 1942, Sheridan's Escape - His Own Account

Stage 5: The Escape: Hong Kong to Kwong Chow Wan

 June 4, 1942

All the others ((the bakers Edgar, Hammond and Peacock)) were very surprised at my good luck and fortune, ((in getting permission to travel to Kwong Chow Wan)) and all wished me luck in the future, and rather overwhelmed me with little presents of very useful articles for my travels. Hammond was the only one that seems upset at me leaving. We have been together nearly five years now and it is not easy to part. However, he did not have the same chance as I have to get away. I would have wished him luck if the position had been reversed. Neprud, the American gives me a note written in Norwegian to Mr Hopstock. I say farewells to Dr Selwyn-Clarke, Dr. Henry, Chuck Winter and Mr Evans and hope they will be able to continue the fine relief work they are doing. Evans tells me I may meet his brother somewhere in the interior. ((Sheridan later met Llewellyn Evans, who like Owen was a volunteer with the Friends’ Ambulance Unit in Kweiyang/Guiyang))

Dr Court gives me instructions that if I can get to Chungking to report to the British Ambassador, and give him all information about conditions in Stanley internment camp, and how vital some news of repatriation is to keep up the morale of the camp inmates. He also tells me it is very difficult to avoid dysentery when travelling in the interior of China. The tablets will help until I get proper treatment. I am very grateful for his advice. On the morning of 4 June 1942 I am up early, not having slept very well, worrying about many things that could go wrong and knowing the consequences are very serious. Josephine Chan ((One of the students at the French Convent School)) comes and says goodbye and gives me a small photograph of herself. Also her home address in Penang. I promise to write after the war. She has a real good heart and is a loyal and true friend.

After a final farewell, Leung Choy and Tam Tong, two of my Chinese bakers carry my kit and accompany me on a tram to the Wing-On pier at West Point. Although it is nearly two hours before the boat sails, there is an enormous crowd of Chinese waiting. I say goodbye to Leung Choy and Tam Tong and join the waiting crowd. Some of the people waiting previously worked for the British services, or are business people, all are leaving to return to China. A few recognise me, and come and speak to me, and are rather surprised that I am not interned. I feel rather nervous in case they talk too much as there are a lot of the Jap Kempeitai present. As we start to embark everyone including baggage is searched, and documents checked. As I move in line towards the search party, which consists of four Japs and three Chinese Police constables I must stand out like a sore thumb being the only European. However, I am very lucky, as I near the search party the Japs found something which attracted their attention, and the Chinese constable gave my kit a cursory look and pushed me through. After a scramble I manage to get on board a small passenger boat named the Shirogane Maru manned by a Chinese crew and Jap officers. By the time all are on board we are packed like sardines and it is stifling hot.

There is a delay before we sail, something has been found in a heap of baggage on the lower deck. There is a frantic search of the boat by the Japs before the owner is found. He is badly beaten up and thrown on the dockside with his luggage. At last we get moving out into the harbour. I notice some dead bodies floating about, but no one seems to take any notice of this. I take a last look at Hong Kong and its Peaks as we steer towards Castle Peak. Our course is round the north east side of Lan Tao island. I think of the fourteen days holiday St/Sgt James and I had spent there ((in 1940)). Such a lot has happened since then. Some of the Chinese on board whom I know, now avoid speaking to me while any of the Jap crew are about. This is a wise move as I do not want to attract too much attention to myself. However, in order to enjoy more room I pay a further 50 dollars to travel first class saloon as it is very crowded below and stifling hot. Everyone is also victimised over baggage, two dollars per item. It is pathetic to see the money being taken off these poor people. The Jap captain’s girlfriend (a Chinese) does the collecting. She looks a smart wench but has the most greedy eyes and shows no mercy to her own kin in demands for money. I would think this is a racket being operated by her and her Jap boyfriend. The shipping co. won’t get any of this money. Two Singer sewing machines now cause a bit of bother as no one claims to own them so payment cannot be collected. The captain is informed by his girlfriend and he is very angry. It is announced in Chinese over the tannoy system that the machines will be dumped overboard unless the owner comes forward. A Chinese from the steerage passengers comes and owns up. He is charged 10 dollars each for the two machines. Then the Japs beat him up and knock all his teeth out, not a very pleasant episode for all the passengers to witness.

We reach Macau, the Portuguese colony, at about 4.30p.m. Because of the sewing machine incident no one is allowed ashore. It is sweltering hot. The boiled water vendors on the dockside do a roaring trade at 30 cents a flask or bottle. Someone has put a flask of tea and some biscuits on my seat while I was up on deck. I eat and drink my first meal since about 7.30a.m. I leave the flask and go on deck, when I return it has gone. I have some kind Chinese friends on board who do not want to make it obvious to the Japs. There are no food facilities on board for passengers. It appears we are to stay here overnight. I know there is a British Consul ((John Reeves)) here but it is not practical to try and contact him. I walk about the deck to keep cool and settle down to a hot and uncomfortable night.

5th June 1942

I am up before 6a.m. after a very restless night. It was stifling hot on board, and very cramped for so many people sleeping in such a small space. For breakfast I opened a small tin of pineapple which I had in my rucksack. I got some boiled water to drink from one of the vendors on the dockside. No one is allowed ashore. We take on some more passengers and cargo and the boat is now overcrowded. The temperature on board is now over the 100ºF and the humidity cannot be much less. We leave about 3p.m. and catch a slight breeze in the open sea which cools the boat a little. For my evening meal I open a tin of fruit, and drink some more boiled water. I had also bought about a dozen tangerines at Macau which help to quench a very acute thirst. I do not know how some of these poor people with children manage on the crowded deck below. But I do not think there is a more resilient people than the Chinese. They can put up with rough conditions and even laugh about it. We run into some heavy swell, and the boat rolls quite a bit. Some of the passengers are sea sick and there is a lot of running to the rails. The toilet facilities even on the saloon class are very primitive and smell to high heaven. I get down on the deck in a corner and try to sleep, with my rucksack as a pillow, it is very hot and sticky.

6^th June 1942

I am up before 6a.m.and managed to get a small bowl of hot water for a wash and a shave from one of the Chinese crew, for a small backhander. For breakfast I had two Ryvita biscuits and a tangerine. Thirst is the biggest problem, because of sweating so much. We are still ploughing along and should reach Kwong-Chow-Wan about noon. It is actually a French concession as it’s called Fort Bayard. We reach the small harbour entrance about noon and drop anchor in the narrow channel. The French custom men and Police come aboard to check all passengers’ papers. I show them mine with the letter from the Consul, Monsieur Reynaud in Hong Kong. They seem satisfied, but some Japs in civilian clothes come aboard and the Police ask for my papers again for the Japs to look at. All the passengers now disembark in a launch but I am still kept on board. I am beginning to worry about this when the launch returns. But the Police bring me my papers and escort me in the launch to the customs jetty. I was glad to get away from the Japs as I do not trust them. It is obvious they have a big influence here even though it is French territory. ((The Japanese invaded Kwong Chow Wan in February 1943; until then it had remained under the control of the Free French.)) There is still a large crowd in the combined customs and police post, so I have to wait my turn. A very attractive French lady brings me a glass of ice cold lemonade. She must have noticed how hot and sweaty I was. I learned later she was the wife of the senior customs official. As I cannot speak French and neither the Customs or Police speak English the questioning becomes a dead lock. However, an elderly Chinese, a former employee of the Belgian Consulate in Hong Kong, interprets for me. I am told to remain in Fort Bayard overnight and report back next morning at 8a.m. meanwhile I am free to go and find a place to stay. The Jesuits in Hong Kong had told me there was a Catholic Mission here and that I may meet Father Moran who I knew in Hong Kong. The Chinese who had interpreted for me found out where it was and gave me direction. I left my rucksack and kit bag at the Police station and set off to walk to the Mission. I find Father Moran ((Sheridan knew Father Moran and other Jesuits who, like him, had been living at the French Hospital in early 1942)) who is only a temporary guest there. He is very helpful and comes with me to find a place to sleep for the night. It is a sort of Café and the French owner agrees to providing a camp bed on a verandah for the night. He is willing to accept Hong Kong dollars in payment. I fetch my rucksack and bag from the Police station. About 5p.m. and have a meal in the Cafe, where I could also get a cold drink. The temperature is 104ºF and the humidity very high. On the way back from the Police Station I meet some of the Chinese who were on the boat, they apologise for not speaking to me on the boat. They all enquire if I need any help, I thank them and return to the Café.

In the evening when it has cooled down, I take a walk round Fort Bayard. It is a very well laid out place, with tree lined Boulevards with names of famous French military men. There is a large prison here for criminals from French Indo China, they do all the labour. I saw gangs of them who were road building, gardening and various other jobs. All were chained by the legs in pairs and guarded by armed Anamite ((Roughly = Vietnamese)) French trained troops. The garrison consists of these troops governed by French officers. The officers and French civilians and their families all live in very modern colonial style detached houses and bungalows. Before the Japs invaded China (1937) a railway built by the French ran from here to Kunming by Wagons Lits Co. As it is 6000ft above sea level it was a sort of summer retreat for the French. Just now the railway line is not used. As tomorrow is Corpus Christi the whole place is being decorated with flags and bunting. I go to confession in a very fine church. I visit the Catholic Mission and have a chat with Father Moran, and find out about my route into Chinese Territory and also the location of Mr Hopstock’s residence at Macheung. The other French fathers treat me rather coldly, and don’t seem to want to get involved. In fact I seem to sense there is not much Christian charity amongst them.