Escape to Pagan (7 page)

The question of the whereabouts of the copies of our documents was always a constant concern to my guardians. But I know for a fact that the originals were kept or hidden somewhere by Grandmother, for I still have my original birth certificate, battered, worn and yellow.

“All the Indian shop owners had left Taunggyi earlier; they wanted to reach India before the monsoon. A Chinese ruby merchant my mother knew advised her to leave Taunggyi and trek into Yunnan Province; he would give her letters of introduction. This was most important concerning personal safety and lodgings etc.

“The Chinese traders and shopkeepers seemed to have had better intelligence regarding the war situation than the Europeans. They told my mother the Japanese had crossed the Sittang and were heading for the Shan States. We left on the 17th April. The Japanese entered Taunggyi on the 20th April 1942.”

To add to the collapse of morale, the retreating British troops waiting to cross the Sittang were bombed by the RAF who believed them to be the enemy. The static British vehicles, equipment and men made a perfect target; so much so that the bombers returned after rearming to attack again.

The bridge was then blown prematurely. This left many men trapped on the wrong bank and at the mercy of the Japanese. Many Ghurkhas who were non-swimmers drowned attempting the crossing. The men left on the wrong side of the Sittang were extremely bitter, feeling they had been sacrificed.

“The worst news of all to reach us was that the British Army was heading for the Irrawaddy River, towards India. Our hopes that the approaching Chinese Army would defend the Shan States were dashed when we were informed by the Chins and Kachins tribesmen that the Chinese army were not fighting the Japanese but were looting and burning their villages, conducting a scorched earth policy.

“When my mother returned from the town hall, she said we should go to the market and buy as much food as possible for our escape. On our way there we saw British soldiers standing by a convoy of
stationary vehicles, chatting and smoking. Their relaxed attitude gave us confidence. They said they were waiting for fuel and that the Koylies
[The King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry]
were coming to defend Taunggyi and the dump of stores. They seemed unconcerned.

“The market was crowded; we bought as much as we could carry. On our homeward journey a single Japanese plane swept in low; we could see the pilot waving at the crowds below, some of the people waved back. Many of the tribespeople had never seen planes before. Then the bombers arrived. I pleaded with my mother to drop all we were carrying and run home. But my mother began to pray aloud, she even began picking up all the food items that I had dropped. We then stood rooted to the spot and watched the planes release their deadly cargo.

“The bombs looked so small and harmless – like toys, they seemed to hang suspended in the sky. None of us had ever experienced bombing before; we just stood still and watched them fall to earth. The raid was soon over and the causalities were light. Another small plane then circled and dropped leaflets that said: ‘Prepare to meet the victorious warrior Gods of Dai Nippon. We will not harm the people of Burma. We are all Asiatic Buddhists. The British have been defeated; the Chinese soldiers are your enemies. If you act honourable, we will give you kindnesses, but if you have anti-Nipponese thoughts, we will give you swords.' There were lots of other promises; each promise was followed by a threat. The leaflets did nothing to calm our fears of the Japanese.

“Reaching home we found that the far end of my beautiful bungalow had been damaged by a bomb, but thankfully nobody was hurt. I was so shocked I could not make up my mind as to what items to take with me.

“Victor, my brother, told us we had six hours to prepare for evacuation to India. We were to take whatever transport available and make our way to the station
[Mother never mentioned which station]
where we were to catch a train to Myitkyina Airport, then board a plane to India. It all sounded so easy. We were restricted to taking only fourteen pounds of personal belongings each. It broke my heart to leave all my lovely things behind – my wedding gifts, my lovely clothes and shoes; nevertheless I filled a pram with baby clothes and food for you.

“My brothers Cyril and Victor went off to find transport as we had none. I was still in shock; events had changed so quickly from a happy and normal life to this nightmare. The thought of leaving all our pets and animals behind broke my heart. Sadly all our pets were killed and eaten by the retreating Chinese army.

“Cyril and Victor returned with an old truck that had red Chinese characters written on the side but it needed more petrol. All communications in the town had broken down and groups of Chinese troops had been seen nearby. Looting of the Indian shops had begun by the local Shans who were now armed. Both my brothers were keen hunters and were determined to bring at least two weapons each; a sporting rifle and a shotgun. They intended to bury them before boarding the plane to India. They buried the rest of their rifles and ammunition in the garden. Cyril was able to retrieve these weapons with the help of the local Shans one night, during the Japanese occupation.

“My mother instructed our servants to look after my home and pets until our return; she also paid them their wages and gave them all the remaining foodstuffs including the meat (venison and other game) in the meat-safe and cool store that were filled with ice blocks delivered daily.

“It broke my heart to watch our dogs being restrained from following the lorry; they seemed to know we would not return. We then drove through the town to the sounds and smells of the alcohol stocks being smashed. To stop the Japanese going wild, we were told.”

As a man who looks forward to a drink every day, I have sometimes pondered: Would it not make the Japanese even wilder to find all the alcohol had been deliberately destroyed; perhaps not.

“We joined the convoy assembling at the edge of town. Here we were given more fuel taken from the nearby army dump. Everyone seemed so calm, confidant and well organized. We waited for any latecomers.

None arrived. Everyone had a good supply of Johnnie Walker. People were walking around with glasses of whisky in their hands, smoking and chatting; in fact it looked more like a group of people about to set out for an afternoon picnic. As we were the last to arrive we were placed at the back of the convoy. We would reach the station the following afternoon. Finally the whole convoy slowly pulled away. The old Chinese lorry sounded as if it was on its last legs. The roads to and from Taunggyi had been cut along the sides of mountains and were very dangerous. Drops of several hundred feet awaited any vehicle that ventured too near the edge; then there were the dozens of hairpin bends to be negotiated. As dusk approached, the whole convoy pulled in under the cover of trees. Cyril and Victor heard peafowl in the jungle and taking their guns went to hunt them. They did not find the peafowl but returned later with small colourful jungle foul which my mother plucked and cooked. Makeshift beds were being prepared and when darkness fell many fires were lit between the vehicles for the evening meal. People began walking around and discussing the following day's journey and deciding where to set up home once they had reached India. Nobody could sleep that night. None of us believed the Japanese would be in Burma for long and were already making plans for our return to our homes. My mother said we should go to Goa; we had Portuguese relatives there who lived by the sea. I knew my mother was worried about her other children. I was always concerned that she would suddenly change her mind at the last minute and stay in Burma, the country of her birth that she knew intimately.

“The early dawn found everyone preparing for the final leg of our journey to the station. Our journey began badly as one of the cars ahead of us would not start. As time was now the vital factor, it was pushed over the precipice and went tumbling into the jungle below causing the monkeys and parrots to scatter noisily. The passengers and loads were transferred to other vehicles and we moved on. It was now imperative that we catch the train and reach Myitkyina airport before the Japanese. I sat in the front of the lorry with my mother as Victor was driving.

“The road we were travelling on was ideal for ambush. The fear was heightened when the convoy passed several dead bodies by the side of the road. The convoy had travelled a few miles further on when
another vehicle in the middle broke down blocking the way. Again the people and their baggage were redistributed and the vehicle was pushed over the precipice. We were slowly moving out of the cool of the hills; the weather was becoming hotter and the roads dustier. Soon all the vehicles in front of us were throwing up clouds of dust making it difficult for Victor to see the road ahead and as it was too hot to close the windows, he let the convoy pull away, while keeping it in sight. This was to prove a disaster.

“Suddenly the tyre on the front wheel of our lorry burst and we came to a halt. The convoy continued, leaving us totally alone on the jungle fringed road; the last vehicle disappeared around a bend. We were now in a desperate situation as time was vital. After much searching, my brothers found a spare wheel and some tools but alas, no jack. The train was leaving at one o'clock; it was now ten-thirty and we still had twenty miles to go. Our situation seemed hopeless. Mother calmly began walking ahead to find room at the side of the road to light a fire and make tea; my brother Victor went with her. Cyril went into the jungle to cut a strong branch to act as a fulcrum to change the wheel.