Pte. Frank Perkins The Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders
The late years of my education were greatly curtailed by preparations for war (we lived on a farm near Southend on Sea, in Essex at the mouth of the Thames). In pre-war 1938 we were digging up the school playing fields to plant crops for eating purposes in what became known as the 'Dig for Victory' campaign, that not put down to growth was also dug up, but for placement of air raid shelters. Some of the schools were undergoing conversion to use as emergency hospitals. On the lighter side my weekends were filled with fascinating visits to the farm by members of the Territorial Army Reserve with massive searchlight units. They set up camp and practised picking out night flying from a nearby airfield, by flimsy, slow flying, Tiger Moth biplanes. The 'Terriers' were a welcome source for pocket money, using me as an errand boy for morning papers, cigarettes and anything else they needed. At that time, to us war was inevitable, and sure enough in September '39 it came
My parents decided it was time to move. We did, out of the frying pan into the fire! Inland to another farm near Hornchurch. Hornchurch was home to an RAF station about to play a major part in the Battle of Britain. There, within an area that was later called 'Bomb Alley' - a wide corridor of intense aerial activity covering much of Kent, the Thames and into Essex. A grandstand viewpoint for Spitfire and Hurricane 'dogfights' with the German raiders. We saw the sky blacked out with hoards of bomber formations on there way to London, interspersed with bursting clouds of anti-aircraft fire that spat out rainstorms of shrapnel to litter the streets, and inflict as much injury as the enemy could dish out to the unwary. It was great to know that a lot of enemy aircraft were unable to turn tail for home after leaving a trail of devastation and sometimes an equally blacked out sky as happened one Saturday afternoon when they set fire to the Thames Haven Oil Refinery and the Silvertown Paper Works. We were plagued for hours with oily flakes of burned paper fluttering earthwards like demented butterflies.
I left school aged 14, during the height of the blitz to take up work in a stockbrokers office in the City of London, and did see both at work and around home horrifying acts against humanity to friends, relations and strangers, all of it countered and made more tolerable by acts of bravery and a great resilience. Conscription to the forces came in the latter part of the war. I had 6 months of training, mostly in Scotland attached to the Gordon Highlanders, and was eventually shipped out to India.
After journeying a quarter of the way round the world and miles of open sea, cramped in a luxury liner suitably downgraded to pack in thousands of troops we were ready to set foot on land in Bombay. Little time was available to accustom to a new culture. We were bundled into waiting trucks, taken some thirty to forty miles to a transit camp and segregated into groups with destinations we knew not where. In a short stay at the transit camp we were subjected to yet another round of inoculations, graphically lectured about clean living, repeatedly drilled in anti malarial practises, and kept completely in the dark about our future.
The war in Europe ended, and soon we were to learn that a new weapon called an atom bomb had been used to raze two large cities in Japan. Surrender by the Japanese was imminent, so was information on some of our futures - I was in a group that was to be transferred to the 1st Battalion The Queens Own Cameron Highlanders (Q.O.C.H.).
In a camp about a hundred miles north east of Bombay near the city of Nasik the remnants of the Battalion of Cameron Highlanders that had survived the Burma campaign and had not yet been repatriated to home were endeavouring to rebuild a much diminished unit. The Camerons had engaged in heavy and costly combat with the Japanese, contributing immensely to overpowering of the enemy in North East India at Kohima and Imphal.
(A dramatic account by Bill Pennington of an operation involving the Camerons and the crossing of the Irrawaddy River may be found on www.burmastar.org.uk - type Pennington in the search box).
After the initial chaos of being a member of a new draft to be received by veterans of the Burma campaign, old sweats and others that appeared to have only recently arrived, there was time to make an assessment of the new circumstances. The hierarchy had a delicate task on their hands - in fact they were putting together a potentially volatile cocktail of men with very conflicting ambitions. To all intents the war was over, Burma 'vets' had experienced enough in months to last most people a lifetime and desired only repatriation to home, some of them resorting to the bottle to endure the passage of time until their opportunity came. The last thing they wanted was to mix with a bunch of inexperienced conscripts who were still wet behind the ears, but equally ambitious to call it a day and get back civilian life. Add the other ingredient, the regular soldier who was eager to pursue his chosen career no matter what it involved, and you have a rare mixture.
Conditions in this ever changing scenario were far from good, under dusty, tatty canvas, in even tattier beds that were ridden with an impossible to combat form of wood lice, officially bodily harmless so they were there to be endured. Latrine facilities were primitively crude. Drinking water was stored in large cauldron shaped canvas containers to allow the evaporation caused by the scorching daylight sun to cool the water, it was so chlorinated you could have been drinking pure bleach. Food and eating conditions were appalling, weevil loaded bread to be spread with a runny mess called Oleo Margarine, sometimes with a form of jam. Cooked food consisted of 'porridge' and fried weevil bread for breakfast, and a possibility of something hot later in the day. Most meals were supplemented with second hand American 'K' Rations which were survival packs for use in extreme combat conditions - the contents went something like this, hard tack biscuits, brittle chocolate, pieces of toilet paper, some cigarettes and matches. If you drew luckily your 'K' Ration would contain a can labelled ham and egg. Enough griping!! The meal most looked forward to was an occasional serving of Machonochies Meat & Veg, delivered in large steel drums requiring only heating. To break the monotony of meals entertainment was laid on by native buzzards that would swoop under the canvas, grab whatever was laying around, even from our hands and make off. There was the elusive Orderly Officer of the day, he would appear apparently from nowhere, ask "Any complaints", and evaporate with well practised speed before anyone could answer.
Two influential personalities were replaced, the Bn. Commanding Officer (C.O.) and the Regimental Sergeant Major (R.S.M.), both were honoured with great respect by the Burma 'vets'. Rumours about our purpose favoured that we were to form part of an occupation force in Japan, but we were kicking our heels in the middle of nowhere in the plains of India. Morale was slipping to an all time low, unsavoury incidents were happening. Sadly there were deaths put down as suicide.The new R.S.M. was attacked whilst asleep in his tent. Someone cut the guy ropes of a marquee that was the sergeants mess, creating havoc inside.
The Bn. was up to full strength. All that remained to learn was the purpose. For the first time it was made public. We were to be part of the British Commonwealth Occupation Force in Japan (B.C.O.F.) - the 5 Infantry Brigade Group of the British India Division the 14th Army (B.R.I.N.D.I.V.). The main force were three infantry battalions. Ours, 1st Bn. Q.O.C.H. The 2nd Bn. Dorsetshire Reg't, and the 2nd Bn. The Royal Welch Fusiliers, supplemented with units of 8 Coy., R.A.S.C. (Service Corps). 5 Field Ambulance (Medics), and 5 Inf. Wksps. Coy., R.E.M.E. (Electrical, mechanical engineers).
For a reason I did not know I was sent with a group to Poonah and a unit of the Army Education and Intelligence Corps for a two week course on communication qualities - the gathering of knowledge and information from, and imparting the same to both army personnel and the civilians of where we may be. It seemed irrelevant, but I did appreciate the absence of regimentation and the relaxed atmosphere. The course seemed irrelevant, but a by-product was a step on the ladder of promotion.
A new interest served to ease some of the boredom, full highland dress uniform for every member of the Bn. arrived. Appropriately dressed and assembled with a now competent pipe band in the lead brought a positively brilliant display to the barren surroundings. The Royal Welch Fusiliers had imported a goat to serve as their traditional mascot, and the Dorsets were now the proud owners of a fine military brass band. In its entirety the Brigade were becoming a very impressive force, enough to make anybody stand and stare including the Japs, and hopefully to scare the pants off any troublemakers.
Whoopee!!! At last we were ready to go. Not so!!! Protocol had been overlooked by us mere squadies, and it had to be satisfied. There followed a series of mass drill and assemblies of the whole Brigade including all of the smaller back up units. The ground was baked solid to a depth of several feet (as those who had to dig the occasional grave knew to their sorrow). The repeated marching and counter marching of 5 to 6 thousand pairs of boots would have given solid foundation for the building of a city.
The climax of all the rehearsals was an inspection of the assembly by His Excellency, the Commander in Chief (India), General Sir Claude J.E. Auchinleck. I would have loved to be able to stand aside and observe the desperate efforts of some poor souls at the head and tail of each battalion to keep in step. Authoritatively heading the parade was the resounding beat and skirl the Cameron pipes and drums, followed by the delicate fife band of the Royal Welch, and finally the bold brass band of the Dorsets. Three beats to follow - take your choice. A side benefit, the risk of individual units being inspected resulted in a full English breakfast - egg, bacon, sausage and fried bread (weevils and all).
Now we were ready to break camp and go. No converted luxury liner, instead a vessel unable to hold the whole brigade - the Dorsets would have to follow. A motor propelled sardine can heading into the tropics full of bodies taking it in turns to walk the open deck. A promise to stretch our legs ashore in Singapore had a sting in it's tail. What an anticlimax! Drag your kit out of the hold, don the full highland dress and march parallel to the Equator dressed in a heavy kilt. The Mace was lowered, the band struck up, and off we set on our morning leg stretch through the heart of Singapore. Waiting to take a salute at the Municipal Building was no less than Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten, Supreme Allied Commander of South East Asia. Protocol satisfied we sweltered back to the ship. At Hong Kong a similar march took place at the dockside, nobody saw us, and we saw nobody.
Honshu is the mainland of Japan. There are two major islands in the south, Kyushu and Shikoku, with the seaway around the two littered with smaller islands. On the mainland sheltered from the open sea by the land masses is a major port, Kure, situated a few miles from Hiroshima. Kure was our landing point.
As the ship slowly navigated her way through the islands we had ample time to observe. Beaches were virtually non existent. The shores rose steeply from the sea, straight into mountainous terrain. There was an atmosphere of controlled apprehension, we were entering an area of natural fortresses. As we slipped into Kure harbour the view revealed that the surrounding hills bristled with gun emplacements. At that moment I made a decision, one that nothing will ever change. To take Japan without the use of the bombs, conventional combat would have cost an incalculable number of lives over an inestimable period. As with all war, no one side profits in the long term.
We set up station at a place called Hiro, some ten to fifteen miles from Hiroshima. We found the Japanese in our locality were not eager to befriend, after all they had not long since had the most fearful weapon of all time dropped literally on their doorstep, destroying an entire city and most of its population. I formed the opinion that those present at the time of the 'bomb' were unable to come to terms with the sudden change in their circumstances. Having seen the remains of Hiroshima, I could understand the confusion.
Research some 50 years after I was in Japan revealed a lot of information that most of us were completely unaware of at the time. The initial headquarters of B.C.O.F. was at Kure, which had been the principal naval base of Japan and the area included the largest combined dockyard, ship-building yard and naval arsenal in the country. The B.C.O.F. consisted of personnel from British, Indian, Australian, and New Zealand Brigade Groups, as well as airforce and naval components from the various countries.
Apparently the station at Hiro had been manned for a short while by an Australian force, we were to carry on from them. From thereon I did not engage in any regimental activities for the rest of my stay in Japan (I was hospitalised for 5 months). Together with a group that included those who attended the course at Poonah in India we were labelled as an education section. Some educational activities within the unit did take place, but the arrangements to mix wtih some Japanese civilians was somewhat revealing. In an exchange of opinions and other information with one such young, well educated, Japanese ex-service man who had excellent English, I was told in no uncertain manner that many of the Japanese did not consider the conflict at an end and they had facilities to continue, his comments were not to be disregarded.
Similar to Germany, the Japanese military expansion began in the late twenties, and into the thirties. By 1931 they had overrun Manchuria, and occupied a land mass equal to four times that of Japan by 1933. The aggression continued into China and onwards. By spring 1942 Japan dominated most of South East Asia. When the war ended some of the Japanese military had enjoyed up to fourteen years of insuperable success and would still be in their early thirties, many trained as killing machines from childhood.
The whole of the B.C.O.F. area was found to be honeycombed with caves and tunnels. Many contained large quantities of explosives, ammunition and poison gasses.
Inflation was out of control, with prices doubling by the day. The entire Japanese currency was recalled in one day, and replaced with a new issue the next - from then onwards old currency was worthless. This hardly affected us - we had little to buy.
The spring cherry blossom was all that one would have anticipated, coupled it with the delightful oriental singing of Japanese primary school children formed a welcome feeling of peace.
Seasons followed the same pattern as at home, but to extreme. From May to September it was hot and humid by day, and persisted through the night.
Most of the landscape was mountainous. Terrace farming was practised every where, the main produce being rice. 'Paddy' fields in the few flat areas would come alive at night with frogs - the croaking was incessant.
Contact with other occupation forces was rare, but one proved to be a terrific morale booster. An exchange of attractions with the Americans was arranged - they were to send a band to entertain us. It got off to a humorous start. The railway stop at Hiro had no platforms, to alight from the train necessitated a degree of jumping. Our American friends would have been used to this, and our organisers did nothing to ease creature comforts. To the Adjutant and R.S.M. (who made the arrangements), a band meant men in uniform with highly polished buttons and boots. All instruments would have been packed in suitable containers. A truck was sent for the instruments and the pipe band was sent to meet the men.
Dressed in casual uniform, wearing ordinary shoes and carrying their own personal instruments, the Americans struggled from the train. They were not soldiers in the accepted sense, but were entertainers in one of the very popular 'big bands'. The instruments were their own property - no way were they going to have them piled into a truck. They co-operated and formed up behind the pipes and drums - this was a new experience for them. The Drum Major lowered his mace, the pipes struck up, the drums rolled, and the spectacle set off at a cracking pace, except that the Americans were trailing behind, and I mean behind. Nearly a mile carrying instruments, with the pipe band setting the pace, was a torture they had not endured before. At the guardroom the R.S.M. had assembled the guard, a good first impression for our guests was essential. The expression on his face was one for the books. The now-exhausted followers were a single file of slouching beings. The R.S.M.'s world collapsed. The Americans nearly followed suit - they were saving their energy for later.
A large corrugated-iron building resembling an aircraft hanger had been selected as the venue for the performance. A platform was erected, and seating was concocted from a wide variety of objects.
The band slouched on to the platform, the conductor raised his baton, and suddenly an incredible surge of energy erupted. The band was transformed. The sound issued forth in ever increasing volume, enhanced (or otherwise) by the acoustics of the building. Renderings of the most popular music of the period continued almost non-stop. The atmosphere was electric as our lads called for encore after encore. I had not seen such enthusiasm, and felt so much of a lift in morale in a long time.
To return the compliment, we sent a section of the pipes and drums together with a highland dance team to Tokyo. Word had it that the Americans received the performance with equal enthusiasm.
Time came to hand the station at Hiro back to the Australians, and move on to Shikoku, the second largest Island in the south of Japan. The brigade had been assigned occupation of the Island. Our final base was in a previously Japanese barracks out side the city of Kochi on the mid-western coastline of the Island. The Dorsets were sent to Tokushima in the north-west, and the Royal Welch completed a near perfect triangle, stationed at Matsuyama, in the east.
Viewed from the top of a nearby hill our base could have been a British barracks built around a massive parade ground (fodder for the regimental types). The single story buildings were built entirely of timber, the floor raised about 3 feet from the ground on stilts that were boxed in with cladding. An interesting form of joinery was used on all rafters and joists, there were no traditional joints, they were all bolted together, this method allowed the whole to sway and flex, but remain intact in an earthquake. The electricity supply was a hoot, two lines of bare copper wire supported on insulators running the entire length of each building. Connection was made for any appliance wherever required with the use of a pair of crocodile clips.
The towns were a mixed bag of tricks. Timber and paper walled dwelling and business places adjoining the pathway (unpaved), separated from the road by frequently bridged open drainage trenches. On the crude unsurfaced road, rail tracks carried ultra modern trams. A mixture alien to our ways, but they worked.
A sharp reminder to remain alert came to light through the sloppy activity of a few individuals. Many barrack rooms had an insignificant trapdoor in the floor. Sweeping out was a daily requirement - what easier than to lift the trapdoor and conveniently dispose of the sweepings. Curiosity overcame one individual, so he wriggled down through the trapdoor and exposed a potential threat. We were living on top of a virtual arsenal, tucked away were cases of well preserved weapons and ammunition. 'Well done that man', he initiated another search to be carried out by the B.C.O.F.
An incident resulted in me being carted off to the nearby field ambulance (equivalent to a small cottage hospital). In addition to my immediate needs I was having trouble with my ears. Apparently my stay in the field ambulance was short because the next memory was that I had been transferred some 150 miles to the main B.C.O.F. hospital at Kure. It was a busy place with a mixture of staff from a number of countries. The daily routine was to be wheeled to a treatment room by an Indian orderly. The rest of the day was spent perspiring on the bed and developing sweat rashes in awkward places, and prickly heat elsewhere. It was uncomfortable. Soon I could make my own way for treatment, and the line of interest taken by the doctor had switched to my ears which were now very swollen and closing rapidly. One question arose frequently. "Have you been swimming in the rivers?" The answer was, "Yes, but before the notice forbidding it was posted at Hiro".
In a square ward with about six beds to a wall were a mixture of surgical and other patients, most of them immobile. It was a normal afternoon with everything proceeding in an orderly manner. A happening was to occur that would produce a scene equal to a French Farce.
The calm atmosphere was disturbed by an unfamiliar rumbling, like distant thunder. It continued and seemed to be getting nearer. The building begun to tremble. There followed a feeling like being on a ship about to ride a huge wave. It was an earth tremor, one only, that rolled in from the sea lifting the building which seemed to flex with it, and then putting it back down again.
The Indian orderlies fled the patients. It was every man for himself. The fellow in the bed on my right, had ear trouble and no control on his balance. He clambered from his bed did a pirouette and fell to the floor. After three demonstrations of his ballet skills he returned to bed. Another fellow in a bed halfway along the wall on my left had his leg in plaster, hoisted by a weighted cord over a pulley at the foot of the bed. He was determined to not be left behind. Mimicking a contortionist , he selected a table knife from his eating irons, and unsuccessfully hacked at the cord. Diagonally in front of me, yet another fellow decided to take matters into his own hands. Quitting his bed, he attempted to crawl across the floor using his hands only - with each slow advance he systematically lost his pyjama trousers. In desperation he gave up and burst into almost hysterical laughter. The rest joined in.
Space at the hospital was in heavy demand. It was decided I could return to my unit, the treatment including that to my ears had responded reasonably well, but I felt far from well. I left the hospital with travel rations (corned beef sandwiches and apples), a rail pass, instructions to link with others to form a group, use only carriages designated for forces, and report the Rail Travel Officer (R.T.O.) at each change. Following instructions, the first major change was at Okayama to catch the ferry over to Shikoku, but things were not going too well. As we approached Okayama a cockney comrade looked closely at me and said "Yer don't arfe look ruff mate". It was an understatement.
My new cockney friend stayed with me on to the ferry and we made the crossing. Alighting from the ferry, things began to go haywire, I slumped to the floor and seemed to be on my own, except for passing Japanese who had a distinct disinterest in the foreign devil on the ground. Members of the R.T.O. had been alerted and came to my aid. They decided to get me to the nearest unit with a doctor available. It turned out to be the Dorsets stationed at Tokushima. The doctor decided to keep me overnight and transfer me next day to my own unit. By the time I reached the Camerons I was in a right state, and the Bn. Doctor sent me back to the field ambulance. Placed in isolation, I alternated from consciousness, to semi conscious, and just plain nothing. During this period I gained a memory that was to stay with me for ever. A fellow Cameron had been involved in an incident with the Japanese. He had been stabbed in the abdomen, his bladder had burst, and his blood system was poisoned. The air was filled with moments of haunting cries of agony. He took about a week to die.
Returning to consciousness, and choking because of a nose bleed, I was confronted with a big ugly Japanese face staring at me from a few inches, frightened and confused I signalled to seek his aid. He just grinned and left me to it. (Japanese labour was used for cleaning). Oh to be rid of this accursed country and it's people!!! A welcome turning point was reached. Thanks to the meticulous, dedicated care of an Australian doctor I was blessed with a steady recovery. I never even knew the mans name, and the opportunity to convey an ultimate debt of gratitude didn't arise.
Sufficient recovery paved the way for transfer to another hospital at Okayama, and there began the prelude to my happiest time in Japan. Stretchered into a bell tent I joined a group of about half a dozen chaps installed toe-to-toe around the central pole. It seemed we were untouchables to be kept away from others. None of us had been told what ailed us, but the general consensus seemed to be that we had something like diphtheria. Into the tent walked a little Japanese, he shinned up the central pole dragging a pair of wires with him. Securing the wires to the pole he proceeded to strip off the insulation and affix a lamp holder, he then inserted a lamp, to our surprise it lit immediately. Job done the Jap' left. Life was cheap there, he had been playing with wires, live in excess of 200 volts.
Transfer to a proper isolation ward within the hospital was rewarded with two very pleasant surprises. The hospital had a team from the Queen Alexander's Imperial Military Nursing Service (Q.A.I.M.N.S.) Proper lady nurses with a proper Matron, who came to see us. "You may have one portable gramophone and one recording" we were told. "Let the nurses know your choice" she added, and left.
The fellows were from all over the B.C.O.F., and diverse units. We had a ballot on the choice of recording - the leaning was toward classical music, one factor being that complete works required more than one 78 rpm record. The tactic was a success, Beethoven won with his 'Emperor' Piano Concerto, and was avidly followed note-for-note, over-and-over again.
Takuma Bay, (whereabouts unknown) formerly a seaplane base, had been adapted as a convalescent centre staffed by the Q.A.I.M.N.S. and the Women's Voluntary Service (W.V.S.). I had a whole month to come and go as I pleased, in comfortable surroundings, with the feminine touch that sometimes bordered on the luxurious. There was a well-stocked library of books and records, with peaceful facilities in which to enjoy them, both in and out of doors. A radio was tuned into a forces programme Radio S.E.A.C. (South East Asia Command)
The food was excellent - snacks and beverages available through the day, willing assistance (if required) available twenty four hours a day. Could this have been associated with the army, or was I dreaming.
Early days were spent in simple relaxation, and lapping up the remains of the autumnal atmosphere. Later I ventured further to take in the beauty of the setting, some of the land laid out in typical Japanese garden style. The furthest I went was to the land edge rising almost vertically out of the sea. It was a good feeling.
In the third week the Matron approached me and suggested I go alone and explore the surrounding countryside - no further than I wished, and for as long as I liked. A bicycle had been reserved for me, and picnic food could be prepared. Assurances that I would not encounter any problems in the areas I could reach alleviated any apprehensions I had about the Japanese. It was go!!!
The first day I took just a snack and drink. It was necessary to accustom myself to the bike. The initial feeling of freedom was exhilarating. I didn't go too far, saw no Japs, and determined to do more of this, venturing further each day.
The area was rural with a great deal of appeal. The roadways ran through the valleys of the hilly terrain, frequently bending to offer numerous changes of view. Coupled with the rural atmosphere, and sparse population there was a feeling of having slipped a century or two into the past. The natives, if that was the correct terminology were more inquisitive about, than aggressive to this strange uniformed foreigner.
Production of rice on the terraces laid out like giant steps to the top of the mountains, were irrigated by an antiquated system of large water wheels linking the essential liquid right to the top. The water was fed into channels through the terraces, and back down to the feeder pool below. Women, frequently clad in only loin cloths spent the entire day walking on the spot on treadmills to provide the required energy.
With a series of fascinating and colourful images planted in my mind I eventually headed back to rejoin the battalion.
Christmas 1946 was four days off. In the early hours of the morning our sleep was disturbed by a sound like a hurricane force wind heading our way, unlike anything experienced before. There were four of us in the completely dark room. The only communication was by voice, and that was tempered with controlled anxiety. The noise increased and communication was overpowered. Situations are not readily recognised when woken from deep sleep. The full reality dawned on me as the building began to shake. This was not an earth tremor like the one at Kure, it was a full scale earthquake. I scrambled out of the trembling bed, but could not stand. The other three had done the same, we were colliding with each other as we crawled across the now violently moving floor. Total collapse of the building seemed imminent. In effect we were up against a raging element, and were helpless.
It was claimed that the initial impact lasted approximately four minutes. I cannot confirm or deny, my mind was on self preservation. Without doubt there was relief when it subsided - the building had survived major damage, but there was chaos, and still total darkness. It quietened, and the first impulse was to find clothing and get dressed. Vocal communication was re-established with a garbled mess of requests and advice. Somehow, we had sort of dressed, and were remaining calm.
The noise and trembling started again. 'Get out'! 'Keep covered' ! Conflicting opinions. Confusion had set in. I opted for out , it seemed best.
Outside there was immediate contact with the ground, and the movement was more pronounced. I was beginning to doubt my decision, but the duration of this movement was shorter.
A pattern of repeating quakes of varying violence continued into the day.
Daylight revealed the extent of the damage, the design of the Jap barracks had proved it's worth. Not so a cookhouse built of bricks by our chaps, it was reduced to rubble.
Security was immediately tightened, and not without reason. Japanese grenades that had been hidden in the rafters had dislodged, another factor similar to others uncovered in the past.
The C.O. was away, leaving a very level-headed Major in charge. To establish authority, and reduce the question of vulnerability from the Japanese superiority gained by their experience of quakes. We had to show the flag. A company in armed in full battle order was assembled. Headed by a Bren Carrier (a small armoured vehicle), a piper and drummer, they marched into the accessible areas of Kochi in a show of strength, and returned to camp.
Information on the full extent of the damage caused by the quake and it's associated elements was passed to us by men from the company that had marched into Kochi. The hilly terrain had given us shelter from a massive tidal wave generated from the epicentre of the quake somewhere out at sea, but much of the city of Kochi had been engulfed.
Quite large boats were left stranded miles inland, buildings had been wrecked, and many washed out to sea. I have no knowledge of human injury and loss of life, but it must have been considerable. Many were left homeless. No casualties were sustained by members of the commonwealth force.
Earth tremors continued for up to two weeks. The sea water took a considerable time to recede, and had not returned to the original coastline when it was the time for us to leave Japan.
Early in 1947 our unit left Japan. I don't know if any of the rest of the brigade were left behind. For the Cameron's they had found another spot needing attention in Malaya. The battalion marched out with great pomp and circumstance. I left as an individual. The C.O. decided I would supervise the carriage of a number of crates over the 150 miles to Kure. (I suspect they contained the bounty he had collected). At Kure I saw the crates into the hold of the ship, and we left.
From me, no goodbye, definitely no thank you, only a positive message. I will not be back!!!
