Colin McEwan Diary: View pages | Gwulo: Old Hong Kong

Colin McEwan Diary: View pages

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28 Dec 1941, Colin McEwan Diary

Dawn brought the signal to move – a welcome signal to most of us who were chilled to the bone & only too willing to do anything for warmth. The wind was miserably cold tho’ & we could not get really warm until the sun came up. By daylight we were in fairly open country – fertile & well-cultivated & after crossing still another river – the countryside here seems to run with rivers – but this time by a bridge – a ½ hour’s walk by groves of sugar cane brought us to our objective the Tanshan(?) Waichow highway.

By this time feet and legs were going badly & the road tank trapped & covered as it was with gravel offered little comfort to feet already tender from unaccustomed poundings. Our next objective was always four miles away – cold comfort & having been informed that we were now clear the advance party moved on to make arrangements while we acted as whippers in at

…a pace of 2mph. The last 3 miles was a trial to the spirit and the flesh – tempers were getting short although the poor lads whose feet were worst trailed on with no complaint until in the end Tai and I decided to push on and get there.

Sun Hui proved a haven. We had our first meeting with the Chinese Army – smart pleasant looking people who were down to meet the Admiral. We were given quarters in the local Chung Hok (Middle School) for the day and about 1pm had our first meal since the previous evening. Since the village people were willing to accept HK currency (at 5-1) trade was brisk and John Collingwood earned my undying gratitude by the present of two great fresh duck eggs. After a very sound sleep we took the road again about 4.30 on a lovely afternoon. Half an hour’s walk saw us through a narrow pass guarded by an outpost of the Chinese Army. The descent on the other side brought us through some lovely scenery, wooded hills leading down to a large plain plentifully scattered with villages. The combination of relief of being really in free China and the beautiful evening had its effect and there were few laggards. The arrival of the first bicycle taxis for those whose feet had suffered too much quickened our progress and at dusk we reached our destination – Military H.Q. at Tsuen Lung(Chun Lung)– the usual temple but spotlessly clean and with every preparation made for our comfort. Dinner was a fairly hilarious affair with the General Staff proving a very poor second at lying on their bellies and grabbing at food with chopsticks.
29 Dec 1941, Colin McEwan Diary

Rumours of bicycle taxis for all of us were prevalent this morning but evidently it was not to be since, falling into separate groups in case of air raid, we moved off as usual. So still in my role of Commander of M.T.B.28 we started covering the road at a good heel and toe pace. Spirits were high and the mouth organ suddenly produced by Pony Moore lifted our feet along the moorland road we were covering. One very welcome halt we had at a wayside teashop – later to prove a howff of Tai’s and mine where doughnuts vanished like “snow off a dike”.

And so we came to Waichow – and halted on the outskirts for tea and cakes. While there we noticed a constant stream of Chinese soldiers passing through – Yu Hon Mau’s troops who were to have relieved HK and who were now on their way to Changsa where for the third time the J’s were to be thrown back. Another – at least for us who by hearsay only knew of W.R.N.s etc – new sight was the appearance of the first of the Chinese Army comfort corps of girls whose job it is to write letters for the troops, do propaganda work among the villages and such work. (From my diary I see Edna is recorded as “First sight of Chinese woman soldier – speaks good English”).

Then came our parade into town – a long procession in columns of three – in the front Chinese and British flags – officers on the flank beside their crews – trying manfully to keep them in step. Impressive it may have been – certainly the town turned out to watch – but the general impression it gave me – slinking along in the rear and beginning to realise how dirty I was – was that of a Salvation Army Saturday night route march just at closing time. In addition to this I felt an irresistible urge to giggle and in this was not helped by the fact that the mouth organ band was playing the Beer Barrel Polka followed by MacMillan’s rendering of “I don’t want to be a soldier” while striding along with a definitely martial air.

Quarters were found in the local mission hospital and after the luxury of a real bath we were entertained to dinner and wine by the local H.Q. where it was again proved that the Navy cannot be beat – Ronny Ashby by some form of magic appearing in collar and tie and looking like a very senior Rear Admiral. And so to bed – real beds – and sleep, real sleep.
30 Dec 1941, Colin McEwan Diary

Ranks were re-established this morning in the best Naval tradition. It did seem a pity and wholly unnecessary that after days such as they had been through where officers walked, ate and slept with their men that, on return to a more or less normal living, there came the definite split. Requests for a separate officers’ mess – the request, it must be admitted, coming from a few only – was refused tactfully but firmly and in our position of “superior civilians” we had the opportunity and pleasure of watching all the sideplay.

After the breakfast came the official photograph and a get together ceremony in the church which again proved that the English have no flair for the theatrical. There we were packed in the church – British on one side, and Chinese on the other. Up rose the Major and in a flow of impassioned oratory informed all and sundry that ABCD was the stuff, that Japan’s days were numbered and that soon under the Generalissimo etc etc. The toast was replied to by Commander Montague who was jolly glad to be there, appreciated their hospitality and informed them they had been decent to us. The buck having again been passed to the Chinese they piled on more points by giving us an elaborate choral rendering of the first four letters of the alphabet – extolling each in turn with the responses being given by the (written in classical Greek:; OI ΠOΛΛOI – chorus?) in the rear. Having the game well in hand now they proceed to sweep us off the court by a series of well organised cheers which would have done credit to any American college. Service came back to us but we double faulted badly with feeble hurrahs for each letter in turn and lost the second set. The final game was played at speed and with fury the Chinese sweeping all before them with “Che Lai” although we were saved from total collapse by Mike’s prompting, in an unreachable falsetto, of “God Save the King”. This made us 15-40 but our slight hopes were blasted with the presentation of huge baskets of fruit, cigarettes, towels, etc. Game, set and match for our Chinese allies.

This over, we managed to see the town. It has a lovely situation with low hills around and the city itself broken up by the river and lakes one of which – with islands, pagodas, and small bridges is a living example of the holiday resort poster-maker’s art. The town itself having been occupied twice consists mainly of wooden buildings in the main street and the usual narrow cobbled back streets. Prices in the shops were high – much too high for our shallow pockets and soon we were back in the hospital. The evening proved interesting in so much as it gave us an insight into the official army mind and again it was brought home to us that in the end the staff knew exactly as much as the man in the street and about one half of what the soldier does.
31 Dec 1941, Colin McEwan Diary

During the morning I had the opportunity of attending a ceremony I had heard about but imagined was extinct – Mike and Leung (the Guerrilla Chief) becoming blood brothers. (A margin note here: In Feb met Mrs Leung (indecipherable squiggle) R.Lee/DB) I rather imagine that the ceremony has never been carried out in more hygienic conditions. Instead of the story book atmosphere of cutting open the arm and mixing the blood by use of a cock’s feather by the light of a guttering candle, here we had a qualified practitioner scraping the arms with a scalpel after disinfecting the skin – a slight graze – the 2 arms pressed together – application of iodine and here the ceremony was completed and over unless, as Mike suggested later, some syphilitic blood had been transferred to him.

Since Tai and I were moving back to Namo (Nam O)to collect the guns etc. on the following day we packed and in the evening saw the Navy off before setting out to see how Wai Yeung celebrated Hogmanay. A little whisky had been forthcoming since wise virgin Tai still had a small amount in his water bottle. The evening began with an excellent dinner following which, Al(Al Wong), in his role of guide to Waichow night life, led us to the red light district. The atmosphere there was hardly calculated to arouse any desire – both surroundings and personnel being of such a nature as to repel rather than attract – One feature was the age of the girls – some of whom looked about 13 and the extreme interest shown by all and sundry including a policeman who by this time was acting as guide and wine bearer. Midnight saw us drinking to 1942 with full honours to the surprise and apprehension of all. Evidently broken glasses are an uncommon sight. On our way home an argument arose re the time – we had been in a complete mix up re Chungking, Waichow, and HK time. The problem was solved easily enough by bringing in the New Year again according to Chungking time following which we wended a very erratic way homewards. And so the year went out, luckily for Mike, who just escaped a .455 in his foot during my gun clearing.

((This is the end of the major typed account. There now follows a more illegible - through age of paper - account up until the 7thJanuary 1942 in China.))
01 Jan 1942, Colin McEwan Diary

January 1st to 9th inclusive, Namo Trip (Nam O = South Cove, at Dapeng Bay)

Contacting our old friends the guerrillas we met our new mentor Ye – our interpreter and were soon on our way, and, by means of bicycle taxis pushed by willing little slaves, who sang and whistled all the way, made Tsuen Loong (previously Tsuen Lung?) (Chun Lung) in about 2½ hours. The time we made was good and we had visions of making Tong Po, through the “Nip” lines, the same evening. We were doomed to disappointment however, and had to spend the night in the local hotel, where, after listening to our guide’s recital of his previous wealth, travels, cellar, and bravery (all this after his consumption of two bottles of Chinese gin) and eating a meal prepared by him of pork chops and fried potatoes we were in bed by 6pm.
02 Jan 1942, Colin McEwan Diary

About 10 in the morning we got away for Sun Hui. At the top of the pass we were held up by the military and there seemed some doubt as to our guerrilla friends. Reaching Sun Hui things seemed still more mysterious as instead of staying in the village, we camped about a quarter of a mile out and from all appearances were settled there for the day. Admittedly it was pleasant in the sun, but there was such an air of indecision that despite assertion of our friend the “Wolf” that “I’ll look after you” we had (to?) fix him to a definite statement and only then learned that the guerrilla leader had been recalled. Time was wearing on and since this was our first lesson in patience we were still rather untrained in the art. To force the issue we went back to the Army outpost only to meet the leader coming back.

About 5 o’clock we did move and moved fast leaving the Tamshui road for the moors just on dusk. The general atmosphere was not encouraging. First of all we lost our way, the party, by this time some hundred strong including some women, were using torches freely and holding frequent arguments re the correct route. Frequent halts occurred for no apparent reason – it was a miserably cold night – Tai’s feet were going and all in all tempers were being rather frayed. Luckily we got across without mishap, reached Tong Po about midnight and I, for one, did not wait for food but hit the hay – in this case, literally.

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