Escape to Pagan (37 page)

“We were now running out of food, but water was all we could think of. In the distant hills we could see dark clouds and sometimes rain,
but the clouds always dispersed by the time they reached us. We knew there would be water in the jungle-covered hills but this would take us in the wrong direction. As our energy levels were low, we only walked in the early mornings and late afternoons; during midday we just sat in the shade and listened to the distant sounds of war. The countryside here was open and gave me the sense of being safe. I was beginning to get used to sleeping on the ground again. At night we just spread our ground sheet and blankets on the clean soft sand and slept.

“We woke up the following morning demented by thirst and could think of nothing but water. Even though we were very weak we had to carry on. About an hour before nightfall we came to a deserted village which had been burnt to the ground, but we knew there would be a well there. The water in the well was very low and there was no bucket. We took items of clothing and tied them together, and then tied them to my mother's bamboo stick and lowered this into the well. By doing this we were able to reach the water. By squeezing the end of the material we managed to fill a tin pot. This was only enough for one good drink each. I prayed there were no dead bodies in the well. That night we slept on soft sand well away from the village; it was now cool but our throats were still parched and speaking was difficult.

“The next day we saw Burmese people in the distance. We were so desperate we tried to call out to them, but our throats were too dry. We followed them as quickly as we could and finally arrived at their village. Alerted by the dogs, curious people appeared from their huts and watched our approach. We were given fresh well water immediately. Mother told the villagers that we had walked out of Tada u because of the bombing and showed them the Japanese document with the official stamp. Of course, like other Burmese, they could not read Japanese.

“This village called Pelubum
[spelt phonetically]
belonged to cattle herders. We got the feeling these villagers had once been part of the Burma Independence Army as many of the men guarding the cattle were armed. Sun-flags and Burmese national flags were on display. These men must have helped the Japs on their sweeps against the hill tribes. Perhaps they were now in fear of retribution by the British. But like many other Burmese they were quickly willing to change sides.
Some even began killing small groups of retreating Japanese soldiers. The Burmese National Army led by Aung San was now attacking its former allies. The villagers told us the British were now fighting the Japs near Mount Poppa
[Cobra Mountain]
a sacred place to the Burmese. The villagers were worried that the retreating Japs would requisition their cattle. We also found out that a large body of Japanese troops had been camped nearby only a few days ago. These Japs had been ordered to reinforce Meiktila and fight the British on the Shwebo plain and told the villagers that they would return. This worried us.

“Mother informed the villagers that we hoped to travel around Meiktila and head towards Yinday then Pagan to avoid the fighting. They said Pagan was no longer deserted and was full of Indian National Army troops who were robbing the surrounding Burmese villages and raping their women. Pagan was now out of the question. The villagers announced that the men who had asked payment for water at the village where the desiccated mummy was hanging, were escapees from the civil jail in Meiktila which had been bombed by the British. The headman agreed that we could stay the night and sleep on his bamboo platform porch a few feet off the ground. This village had plenty of chickens. It would have been lovely to buy and cook a chicken but we were starving so instead my mother bought eggs and made us a big omelette with tomatoes, pimentos, a little chilli and garlic.

“Lying down on the open platform that night we prayed the Japanese would not suddenly arrive; they can be so brutal when angry. Getting up the next morning we noticed all the sun flags had disappeared. The villagers could never be trusted completely and like blades of grass bent with the wind. We decided it would be too dangerous to stay. We bought a chicken and a few supplies with the last of our money and made a lovely chicken curry before we left in the afternoon. We were given a dried hollow vegetable gourd filled with water and told that a small stream could be followed to the outskirts of Meiktila. This stream did not completely dry out, as it was fed by rains in the hills.

“On the second day after we left the village it suddenly grew dark and began to rain. We sheltered under our waterproof sheet in the overhang of low bushes huddled together for warmth. A heavy storm was coming
from the hills and forked lightning began to fill the sky. I placed our big tin pot outside our shelter to catch rainwater. Just as night began to fall, I reached out to retrieve the vessel to fill the gourd and place it out again when I saw several men in capes coming our way; only Japs wore these rain capes. My mother ordered me to retrieve the empty tin pot quickly, which was making a noise as the raindrops hit it. My heart was in my mouth as I reached out again. Pulling it in I looked in the direction of the Japanese soldiers, they were keeping to the contours of the ridge we were on; they were sure to see us. We froze at their approach and listened as they chatted with excited voices. Watching their shadowy figurers pass we could see they were driving a bullock. Shivering and cold we stayed in our hideout until the next morning. Mercifully, you slept throughout.

“After another day's travel we found the stream. The flow was not continuous despite the rain storm; water was collecting in small pools that looked relatively clean except for the small frogs and mosquito larvae. We boiled the water. Where there are frogs there are snakes, but thank God we saw none. It crossed my mind that having survived the war all these years then have one of us die from snake bite at this stage of our escape to freedom would be tragic.”

Our journey to get behind the fighting by bypassing Meiktila must have continued without incident, as Mother did not speak of it and I can't remember any significant events. We just followed the line of trees along the trickling river to keep in the shade and near cover.

“After many days of travelling we must have been somewhere near Meiktila, for the noise of fighting grew louder. We stopped near a pool surrounded by trees that provided us with shade. Here, we waited to ponder our next move. Not long after we were joined by a group of people who had come from Thazie, which was also being bombed by Allied planes. Among them were a mother and son, an uncle and his Burmese wife; they had been on their way to the oilfields where they
worked. Their Burmese escort had abandoned them. They were an Anglo-Indian family and their name was Rawlings; the woman had a son your age. She told us that their lives had been saved by her husband being an expert in oil extraction. They were all well dressed compared to us and had bags full of food; they gave us some rice. Before we knew it, you and the Rawlings boy were rolling around in the dust wrestling. We had to prise you apart before they moved some way from us and settled down. The rest of the group carried on their journey.”

I remember these people and their son. Together we collected dry sticks for the fire but after cooking and eating, these people kept away from us. We must have looked like down and outs.

“We stayed here for a while as there was nowhere else to go and the country ahead looked very dry, despite the mango showers. One afternoon we were discussing moving on when suddenly we heard the heavy mechanical noise of tanks and saw plumes of dust. To our horror, the tanks were coming from the wrong direction. Instead of coming from the west as we expected, they were approaching from the east. These had to be Japanese tanks – we would be trapped. There was nothing we could do as the noise grew louder. The tanks stopped near to us and several dusty men climbed down stretching their legs. To our joy, we heard English voices.

“'Are there any Japs around here?'

“'No,' we answered, ‘but there is a garrison in Tada u many miles away.'

“'They would have been dealt with by now', answered a man in a Jeep. The man took off his cap and introduced himself. He was a Major and his first name was Frank. Many other transport vehicles began to arrive. I told the soldiers that my husband Jack was in the Royal Scots. They said the First Royal Scots were now fighting in Burma. It was a wonderful feeling to know that finally we had been liberated and our wanderings were over. We were now protected by the British Army.”

I remember this occasion well. When my mother, grandmother and Mrs Rawlings realized the tanks were British, they began looking into small mirrors and running around titivating themselves as best they could. The man in the Jeep (Frank) had a bald head and seemed to have taken a fancy to my mother; he was always trying to get her on her own but this was difficult as she was carefully watched by Grandmother and me. I was given a tin of jam and more sweets than the other boy because I was barefoot and dressed in my mother's old torn chemise (the other boy was well dressed and shod); his mother was quick to complain. Later that day I punched him.