Chapter Seven

We set off out once again into the centre of Rangoon, mission unknown. We soon found out, there were some unexploded bombs and it was to be our task to get rid of them. Needless to say no-one had any knowledge of this operation. This particular bomb was in the middle of the main road, about four feet down in about two feet of water.

First we had to get rid of the water and I was dispatched to a nearby house to scrounge a bucket. In the garden were three Burmese ladies enjoying a cup of tea. I made my request and was directed to a corner of the garden where I found a bucket. I was wearing a pair of shorts which had been patched, then the patches patched and this had been done several times. I bent down to pick up the bucket and my shorts gave up the ghost and split from top to bottom in more than one place. After so long with no female company I was embarrassed to say the least and fled with the bucket. Some time later we had removed the bomb, loaded it on the lorry, and we all got on and were off like the clappers to get shot of it in the river. Not a very welcome experience, hopefully not to be repeated.

Over the other side of Rangoon another party of our lads had arrived and were waiting to start removing an unexploded bomb, one of the lads sitting on a metal object protruding from the ground; he moved very quickly when he was informed that this was the bomb that had lost its fins.

Another of our regular tasks was tidying up the railway marshalling yard which was usually bombed on Sundays, normally a day off for us. We would tidy up after a raid and the bombers would return and it all had to be done again. I can only remember being there once when the place was bombed. We did not mind this job as there was usually some kind of loot to be picked up. I remember two occasions when we managed to raid a couple of wagons, once for cigarettes, damp from the fire hoses and once for sugar, also damp, which we concealed in our water bottles. We were gaining a lot of experience or expertise for a life of crime if ever we were returned to Britain, and I wonder if many or any took this route.

I got up one morning and Tom, whose bed was opposite mine, came dashing over spluttering "Come on, don't muck about, what have you done with my teeth?" He was a lucky one, having a sheet of sacking on his bed and at night took out his teeth and put them under the sacking and near his wooden pillow.

None of us had taken them but we never managed to convince him. Tom worked in the main cookhouse and had to get up early to cook the breakfast rice. By now his main subject of conversation was his teeth and everyone was getting sick of it so when he again started his monotonous wailing the other cook on duty shouted "The bloody rats will have got them." Although this was a vain hope, Tom was so desperate he started searching the many rat holes in the earthen floor of the cookhouse and surprise, surprise, he found them, washed them in cold water and in minutes they were back in a happy Tom's mouth. Come to think of it he never did apologise to me for his accusations.

Clothing was in short supply in Burma and as a result prices spiraled beyond the means of ordinary folk. As a consequence, one of our lads in his sick bed decided he had a surplus shirt to sell. He asked the sergeant previously mentioned to try to sell it for him. I was on the same working party as this sergeant and overheard him refuse a high offer before accepting the next offer. He robbed the sick man giving him a very low sum and pocketing about twenty times as much.

On the same party I was allocated to the cookhouse to undertake the more menial tasks. I learned what really fresh fish is. A large vat is filled with water, boiled and live fish put in to swim around obviously in agony until cooked. I don't think we expect anything else from the cruel swine.

As I may have said earlier, the Jap sentries searched us in different ways, so our methods of concealing contraband varied accordingly. I purloined two eggs and hid them in my fundoshi (loincloth) under my shorts. If the "groper" was on duty he was due for a shock, having apparently doubled my appendages. As it happened I was lucky, he was not on duty.

We marched through the archway with a couple of sentries standing watching and as we had to on these occasions doing their ceremonial march or at least our version of it. A tin of fruit nicked by one of the lads fell out of his shorts. Quick as a flash the chap behind him picked it up and got it concealed before we halted to be searched. He got away with it and landed in the compound with it to be confronted by the chap who had dropped it to claim it back. Needless to say he did not get it because not only did the other fellow risk a spell of solitary and a bashing but he had saved the other man from the same fate.

Another project in the jail was to make a bomb-proof shelter using the upper and lower floors of the existing cell block. A cavity was dug under the ground floor and re-enforced. We then had to carry bricks, six at a time on our heads up to the second floor and after removing the floor boards dropped them into the ground floor until it was filled. At this time our discussions on which Regiment would obtain our release were getting stronger and stronger. We'd not given up hope though it was well past the Christmas we had first hoped for.

The cooks got some perks of extra and a little more nutritious food, some of which they passed on to their best mates and, it was suspected, to some of the officers, which probably explained why the cook in charge and two others were promoted to sergeant, boosting the amount of back pay they received on return to Britain. As a thank you gift, one officer purchased a small café for the cook-in-charge on his return to Britain.

Tom, although a cook, was not rewarded like the others. However, he did get some extra food, which I occasionally benefited from before I went on the mechanics party. When I returned Tom had become friendly with another chap who was given the extras Tom received. The other cooks ribbed Tom and his pal about their friendship and one day decided as a joke to perform a marriage ceremony. One of them wore a clerical type collar, Tom's pal was transported in a wheelbarrow and amid much hilarity the ceremony was performed.

I have been writing this whilst in a Combat Stress Home and have just resumed writing after a meal of curry and rice with extras including a popadom which reminded me of the meal, if such it can be called, that I was receiving when I suffered with a swollen throat. Made with flour and water paste, rolled paper thin and cooked on a medium hot hot-plate. It took me the whole of the morning to get it down. I was also unable to have a good drink, having to take water into my mouth and trickle it slowly down. I still do not know what it was or what caused it.

At one time there was an outbreak of cholera which really scared everyone, particularly the Japs who now pulled out all the stops. The persons suffering from the disease were transferred to another block in isolation, except for a few very brave volunteers to care for them. The rest of us were inoculated against the disease and at this time I was out with a working party of about thirty. We returned to be immediately lined up to be inoculated. The same needle had been used for about one hundred and fifty or more, and I was the very last. I felt it! Some died but at least the outbreak was halted.