This is my story (4)

4- Japanese Occupation 1942- 1945 – Trials and tribulations.

World War 2 took the lives of 60 million people. This region of Malaya (as it was called then) was much affected. The Japanese bent on conquering the world wrought havoc to our land causing much pain and suffering.

On 31st January the Allied Forces (comprising British, Indian and Australian soldiers) left Malaya. Their engineers blew a hole 70 feet wide (20 metres) on the Causeway to prevent the Japanese from crossing into Singapore. But Japanese soldiers disguised as local Chinese crossed the straits in inflatable boats!

The Japanese planes came and bombed Singapore. The first bomb fell on this island on 8th December 1941. More bombs fell, day and night! I can never forget those awful days – the bombs, the sirens, the screams, the cries of women and children. We lived in fear, and when the sirens blared we would run and hide under tables or wherever we thought would be safe. My father and elder brother dug a bomb shelter outside our house and often we would run to hide in it. I was only nine years old and remember running to the shelter with my only toy, a black one-eyed dog! It was my constant companion and comfort.

At one time the bombings became so frequent, my uncle and his family, another aunt and her family came and crowded into our little house. Their homes had been damaged. Suddenly there were added some ten people. We literally slept side by side, packed like sardines! Adults sat and took turns to lie down as there was insufficient space for all to sleep at the same time.

Father would come home with toys and other things found in the street. They were left behind by those fleeing from bombed buildings. For the first time we had extra toys to add to my only toy as a child – a black dog with one eye given by The Salvation Army one Christmas.

Fighting between the Japanese and the Allied Forces went on from 7th to 15th February 1942 when the British Government finally surrendered. It was Chinese New Year – the one no one in Singapore celebrated! We didn’t welcome the New Year. It was an ‘ang pow’ we didn’t need! The Japanese took control of Singapore and the surrounding region. We lived through three and a half years of suffering.

The Japanese changed the name Singapore to ‘Syonan To’ or ‘Light of the South.’ Eighty thousand Indian, Australian and British soldiers were taken prisoners of war. And our missionary officers – all male officers, single women officers and married officers without children remained and were taken into prison at Changi. Adjutant Etta Bird who tried to escape died when the ship she was in was bombed. Women officers like Mrs. Major Mabel Harvey, Mrs. Captain Cottrill and their children were evacuated to Australia.

We were terribly poor. Father did odd jobs here and there if available sometimes in exchange for food. People had no money to pay him.

One day the Japanese issued an order. We all had to evacuate from Lorong Limau as the Japanese wanted the houses for their own people. So we packed the few belongings we had and became refugees in our own country! We walked out of our house, joined the crowds of people leaving the area, not knowing our destination. We arrived at Jalan Besar and found a shop which gave us a small space to stay, but it soon became too crowded. We scouted around and found some space under the staircase of another shop in a little lane off Jalan Besar. We took turns to lie down – Sister and Mother sat up most of the time. They were always on the look out for some kind people to bring us food – tapioca mainly or sweet potatoes. O we knew then what it was to be hungry!

My father and my elder brother, who was about 15 years old at that time, had to hide from the Japanese. The soldiers were rounding up young men to take them away for questioning. Many of them were tortured and killed, in their hundreds and thousands.

A week or so later, we heard news that we could return to our homes. We decided to take the chance and made our way back to Lorong Limau. Obviously the Japanese had other plans and did not take over the houses. We returned home and waited for Father and brother for several days. Those were anxious times. Fortunately, they were spared, but our Uncle Johnny, mother’s cousin who lived nearby never made the journey back. We did not know what happened to him and assumed he was taken prisoner by the Japanese and killed. Thousands of young men met the same fate.

Mother wanted to put my younger brother and me into a Japanese school newly set up at Chu Lai Huat, now Hoover Theatre at Balestier Road. It was a big bungalow built by a prosperous ex- garang guni (rag and bone) man! He had made his pile collecting old junk and selling them! The Japanese acquired this big bungalow and turned it into a Japanese school. When we arrived the gates were locked. Mother left us there to wait while she went to Shrewsbury Road to see grandma. She was under deep depression and somehow she forgot about us and we sat the whole morning without registering. We stayed put sitting outside the gate and waited for her. She came back in the afternoon to fetch us home. So my younger brother and I never got to learn Japanese! He wouldn’t mind as he was only five years old! I don’t think they would accept him anyway.

Mother made some tapioca nyona cakes (she had learned how to make these at Home League) and instructed me to go to Balestier Road wet market to sell them. I was so terribly shy and frightened; I did not approach anyone, but stood nervously at one corner of the wet market waiting for customers. No one noticed the nervous little boy with a basket of cakes. I spotted our good friend Mrs. Ong and approached her. Out of pity for me, she bought a piece. I was delighted and rushed home with the rest of the unsold cakes! I had sold one piece! Mother knew I was useless when it came to selling cakes. Obviously I was not cut out to be a sales person. The grace of God enabled me in later years to sell hundreds perhaps thousands of copies of War Cry in the streets, restaurants and pubs! More of such stories later.

So Father took me to help him in his work of repairing houses. I wasn’t much good as I was quite skinny and did not have the strength to carry the heavy bricks and tiles, besides I was afraid of heights. In fear and trembling I would climb the ladder with my basket of bricks or tiles to hand to my father up on the roof. Finally he felt I was too much a liability and decided I should contribute to the family income in some other way.

One day I stepped on a nail. I pulled it out and limped all the way from Beach Road to Lorong Limau. I had no money to travel by bus. My mother washed the wound with soap and water and put some home made medication and wrapped my foot up. I understand it was chicken fat soaked in salt! My advice, don’t try this remedy; it may not work for you. Thank God, He delivered me by healing the wound. Unknown to me the Lord was performing miracles in my life.

Father set up a small stall outside the house for us, sister, me and younger brother to sell sweets plus dried fruit and vegetables, but we failed to make any profit, so finally I got a job at Tanjong Pagar to work for the Japanese. By then I was more than ten years old or closer to eleven. I had to do my share to support the family.