Escape to Pagan (22 page)

“After drinking the spring water, we settled under the shady palms and bought more sweet toddy and Guava jelly. These tribal women were fascinated by your size and the trusting way you approached them and sat on their laps. Soon you were running around with their tiny dark naked children in the shade of the palms. Many of the hill tribes near the Chinese border considered any newborn baby a year old at birth, thus a two year old child of theirs was in fact considered to be a three year old.

“My mother warned me to be careful as some of these tribes would often kidnap children who took their fancy and take them back to their distant villages. This was a habit of many of the small hill tribes; it introduced new blood and genes to their race.

“We noticed an empty hut on stilts; although tattered, it would be more comfortable and safer than sleeping on the ground. The tribespeople had no objections to us using the hut. These people were not rice growers and were delighted when my mother gave them some rice and salt. When we were alone we emptied the contents of the pram into the hut and used the small bags of rice as pillows hidden under
blankets along with our other valuables. And as a safeguard one of us stayed close to the hut at all times.

“It was at this village that I heard the cry of the Outoasan for the first time, even though I had heard many stories relating to this frightening sound from my mother, brothers and other members of our large family. The Outoasan arrived that evening while we were all sitting outside around our fires. Everyone stopped talking, as it was believed that human voices attracted the being. Mothers quickly grabbed their children and valuable monkeys that were now chattering nervously and rushed into the safety of their huts. We did the same but we could see straight through the big hole in our tattered door. We made the sign of the cross and covered ourselves with our blankets with you tucked in-between us. We listened to the screams of the Outoasan as it came nearer. Then silence. We breathed a sigh of relief hoping the creature had moved on. Suddenly a scream, the creature was now sitting in the banyan tree opposite our hut. We could see this tree in the moonlight through the large gaps in our tattered door and expected the creature to appear at any moment. Although we waited, the Outoasan did not scream again.”

To add foundation to this superstition, this creature came to Tada u and screeched the very night my uncle Victor died of cholera. As I grew older I certainly became very afraid of the Outoasan's arrival (Mum always reminded me). I firmly believed these screams were the doings of an evil spirit. It was not until many years later that I found out the truth from a devout Jain who had lived in isolation in the wilds of both India and Burma. These frightening, spine-chilling calls are made by a big creature of flesh and blood, a solitary migrating “brain-fever” bird and not by a Banshee, Sherrill, Outoasan or Djinn. This big speckled bird is the largest member of the cuckoo family and migrates from beyond the Himalayas south, across south East Asia. It seems this bird only calls in April and May just like its close European relative.

I am surprised that the source of this yearly terror was unknown to the endemic people at that time, for they knew the jungle and the
wildlife intimately. Perhaps they were all too afraid to go out and investigate at night. Maybe Grandmother knew the truth. Our family always loved a good ghost story.

“We stopped in the toddy-maker's village for quite some time, but one morning we were surprised to find that they had all left. These hill tribes did not trust the lowland Burmese and felt safer back in their jungle-clad hills. Now having the pick of the accommodation we moved into a better, stronger hut with an intact door.

“The mango showers were now beginning to grow heavier and the flow of water in the spring had increased. With the toddy-makers gone, there was enough water for us to bathe every day. By now fuel for cooking was becoming a problem and we had to use coconut husks, which made a great deal of smoke when burnt on a fire. This could attract unwanted attention and with this in mind, we began to burn old dry palm fronds instead that we pulled from the roof of a dilapidated hut. There were many old coconuts lying around which contained a sweet fungus that my mother began to harvest. One night I woke up and heard an animal under the hut. It was moving around making loud sniffing noises. I prayed it was not a tiger or a leopard. I quietly woke your grandmother, who listened and said it sounded like a pig. After a while the animal moved off. The following day Mother decided that because the pig had visited she would go and check to see if the rice we had hidden before entering the village was still there.

CHAPTER 14

The
Grouper
's Second War Patrol

EAST CHINA SEA

The American submarine
Grouper
was attached to the Midway Patrol Group, comprising
Cachalot, Cuttlefish, Nautilus, Trout, Flying Fish, Grayling, Gudgeon
and several other submarines. After the battle of Midway Island,
Grouper
(a new submarine) had not sunk a single enemy ship. On her return to Pearl Harbour
Grouper
received a new, more aggressive commander; Lieutenant Commander Rob Roy McGregor. He was a man proud of his Scottish ancestry; a sprig of wild heather hung by the periscope, his lucky charm. The battle of Midway Island was a turning point, a great success for the American Navy but this good news was unknown to the prisoners of the Japanese (or the Japanese public). The prisoners aboard the
Lisbon Maru
did not know that the Japanese navy were no longer the masters of the Southern and Eastern Oceans. The Imperial Navy had lost some of its finest aircraft carriers, battleships and experienced pilots at the battle of Midway. The “Floating Chrysanthemums” as the Japanese proudly called their Imperial Navy, were now on the defensive.

The
Grouper
was now on her second war patrol. Unknown to the new commander and the many crew aboard, the submarine was soon
to become famous or infamous, through no fault of her own. The
Grouper
was one of the new impressive large submarines but like all American submarines she had one drawback: defective torpedoes. These weapons had faulty firing mechanisms, many failed to explode on contact and another problem was that they often ran too deep in the water. Surprisingly the British and German Navy had the same problems. In fact a British destroyer suffered the indignity of sinking itself by one of its own torpedoes while escorting an artic convoy to Russia. It seems the torpedo did a lively U-turn! It was the Japanese who had developed the most deadly and reliable torpedoes, a torpedo known as the “Long Lance.” This torpedo had the longest range, ran straight and fast at the correct depth and when it hit an enemy ship it always tended to explode. Fortunately the Japanese Navy did not see fit to share this technology with their German allies. If they had, we may well have lost the Battle of the Atlantic. In one sense we are lucky that the warriors of Nippon did not like sharing anything – apart from the clap.

The above facts remained unknown or made little difference to the half-starved and ill POWs suffocating and dying in the filthy holds of the
Lisbon Maru
, now sailing around the Zhoushan archipelago.

Reaching its patrol area in mid-September,
Grouper
damaged a small merchant vessel but soon lost her in a heavy rain squall. A few days later
Grouper
targeted another merchant vessel and fired three torpedoes; all three torpedoes missed due to faulty and erratic mechanisms. Again
Grouper
moved position and headed along the Chinese coast, hoping her luck would change: it did. On 20th September she spotted a Japanese cargo ship of around six thousand tons. The Submarine fired a single torpedo; it was enough to break the ship's back and she sank in a matter of minutes.

The
Grouper
moved position and soon spotted another target. The ship began to zigzag, having seen the submarine. As it was a clear moonlit night Commander McGregor decided to abort the attack and move again. He knew his intended victim had sent out a signal to an anti-submarine patrol and given them his position. He and his crew
were well aware that all American submariners caught by the Japanese Navy were usually tortured then beheaded on deck almost immediately.

The next night
Grouper
sighted a large freighter heading north hugging the coast. This ship seemed unaware of the submarine's presence. Commander McGregor decided to steam ahead on the surface then dived and waited in ambush: the
Grouper
had found the Lisbon Maru. As usual with the Japanese, there was no red cross displayed on POW ships signifying their human cargo.

On board the
Grouper
everyone was tense and concentrated on their given tasks. The torpedo crew went to their stations; all six fish (torpedoes) were loaded into their tubes. They waited for the order to fire from McGregor. Having made his adjustments, the order came to fire three of the torpedoes at short intervals.

“All torpedoes running fast and straight” reported the tracker. A hush fell over the submariners. The crew knew how long the torpedoes would have to run before impact and carefully counted the seconds waiting for the explosions: none came. All three torpedoes missed! Immensely disappointed at the results, the crew silently cursed their faulty torpedoes, the American Navy, the man who designed them and his family. It seems they were risking their lives to no purpose. Disappointed, Commander McGregor ordered the remaining three torpedo tubes to be fired. Incredibly, they also missed.

CHAPTER 15

Caught by Surprise

BURMA

“It was a stifling hot morning without a breeze, at a time when the extreme heat coaxes the mind into drowsiness and distorts fluid reasoning, paralyzing the brain from instant reaction and quick judgments. I was sitting in the shade under the palm trees alone waiting for Mother to return, my mind idling. It was now so quiet and still. You were playing nearby in the shade of the palms with some stones. Suddenly I heard vehicles approaching from behind a cactus screen about a hundred yards away. I could not believe my ears. But when the sound grew louder, for some reason I thought they were British vehicles and did nothing. I just sat there.

“Out of the dust cloud appeared a convoy of vehicles that came to a halt a short distance from where I was sitting. It was only after the dust had settled that I noticed to my horror, that some of the trucks were flying the Japanese flag. Before I could do anything, you where running towards the trucks. My mother rushed back when she heard the approach of the convoy. Then to our relief, Indian soldiers and their families climbed down from the trucks. The Indian soldiers carried weapons and stayed by the vehicles. One of the well-dressed Indian women walked up to my mother and said they were stopping for a rest in the shade and to cook some food. But first they needed water. My mother told them about the spring in the rocks. The woman spoke to Mother in Hindi and said they
were returning to Loikaw, where they had once lived before the war. But first they were going to an Indian village to pick up some respected and important people who feared an imminent attack from Burmese dacoits. She also confirmed that the British had retreated across the Chindwin and the Japanese were now in full control of Burma.

“My mother said the Indian lady asked why we were wearing Burmese clothes and living here. My mother said we were Portuguese and had lost all our possessions in the bombing of Rangoon. We had to buy Burmese clothes as nothing else was available and we were now heading for Moulmein to be with relatives. This was an important answer as it turned out these people were from the Congress party of India that was anti-British. My mother also told the truth that masquerading as Burmese protected us from the attention of dacoits.

“By this time you were playing with their children. The Indian women were quite taken by you and your friendliness. One of the married women said to my mother that if we were finding it difficult looking after you she would include you into her family and pay us in rupees. Mother said you were her last surviving grandson after the bombing. These women must have felt sorry for our pathetic little group and offered us a lift in one of the end trucks carrying their possessions. Mother accepted as they were going further into the dry belt and it would save us all that walking. We collected all our possessions and climbed into a covered truck at the end of the convoy that contained mostly furniture and carpets. The Indian soldier guarding the truck helped us take the pram aboard and we waited until everybody was ready to move off. Unfortunately we had no time to collect the hidden rice. During that time a civilian car appeared from behind us and slowed down as it went past.

“'My God!' said my mother – ‘it is full of Japs.' We had no option but to stay where we were and prayed we would not be discovered. When the Indian soldiers and their families had finished eating, the convoy moved off. We passed many Burmese villages displaying small Japanese flags during the journey. In the afternoon after a long dusty drive we stopped at a small red brick built town.

“Several people passed the lorry wearing tall hats. Mother said they are Parsees. The Parsees were a wealthy Indian religious sect; owning most of the land in Burma. They were also the main money lenders.
This of course made them very unpopular with the Burmese who often had to sell their land to the Parsees in order to pay their debts legally through the British courts.

“At the side of the road there were several Indian market stalls selling food and other items. Some Burmese people were also present. The Indian soldiers began walking around the food stalls, leaving the drivers to guard the trucks. We seemed to have been forgotten. After a while my mother climbed down and had a good look around. It was then that she noticed the car of Japanese officers had been leading the convoy. Everyone it seems, including the Japanese, had left the convoy and had walked into the town. My mother came back and said we should leave immediately. We struggled to get the pram down and then made our escape down a small narrow lane. As we walked further down the lane we came upon a larger market.

“'We desperately need aspirin and medical supplies,' said my mother. All the drugs looted from the British were now being sold openly in the market. I begged my mother not to go, but she said this could be our last chance to obtain drugs, drugs that could save our lives in the future. She pointed to some trees in the distance and told me to wait there and not move. I was always afraid when my mother left us but I did as I was told. Putting you in the pram I headed towards the trees on the outskirts of the town and waited in the shade nervously. Thank God we were dressed as Burmese.

“The trees were full of sweet, ripe mulberries, scattered on the ground. I started to pick fruit off the trees and gave some to you, you loved them; the rest I kept for later. It was too messy to sit under the mulberry trees so I went a little further and sat in the shade of a banyan tree waiting for my mother. I was getting worried.

“It was then I became aware of a terrible smell. Soon after a procession of Parsees came out of the town dressed in white and wearing their strange hats; they were carrying something. Suddenly the sky was filled with vultures that quickly descended and settled on the tall trees nearby. The terrible stink was getting worse.

“I was so relieved when my mother returned. She had brought lovely Indian milk sweets, chapattis, some thick string, a tin of Andrews liver salts; antiseptic cream and a carton of aspirin tablets. But the best buy
of all was some scented Pears soap. ‘Quick, hurry, we must leave,' said my mother. Keeping to the path that led out of the town, we walked towards a line of trees. All the vultures had disappeared but we could still hear them squabbling. Nearing the trees the smell grew worse, yet we needed the trees as cover in case we were spotted leaving the town. Once we reached the line of trees, the path ahead led past a tall white building that had no roof or windows. The smell became overwhelming but we were afraid to leave the path. We hurried past just taking a quick look through the open doorway of the white building. Even my mother was shocked at what we saw. Dead bodies wrapped in white cloth were lying on the floor; vultures were tearing at their faces and the white material that covered them. There were also clean-picked human skeletons everywhere. Some of the new corpses had no eyes or eyelids: the first things eaten by the vultures. Other bodies were only partially eaten and seemed to be moving their arms as the vultures tore at them. The Parsees did not believe in burying their dead.

“We crossed ourselves and your forehead then quickly left. I threw the mulberries away and could not eat for days because of the smell and the taste in my mouth. It was still the hottest time of the year. My mother had filled the tin water container at the Parsee village; even though I was thirsty I only took one small sip. The smell and the taste of the water reminded me of all those dead bodies covered by fighting vultures. I did not drink again that day. Your grandmother said the Parsees were a very hygienic race; not burying their dead was part of their religion. I still could not drink. When I was finally forced to drink the water from the Parsee well (because I was breastfeeding you), I tasted dead bodies.

“Out of the village boundaries and the cultivated areas, we now found ourselves back in the scrub jungle of the dry belt. The calling of peacocks warned us that night was imminent. My mother began to look for a suitable place to spend the night. The following day we awoke to the call of the peacocks and set off early without breakfast. At around midday, the heat was so intense we were forced to find shelter in the shade of a large bush but had to keep moving every hour or so in order to stay in its shadow. While you and my mother dozed I kept watch.

“When my mother woke we noticed dark clouds gathering in the far distance. ‘The monsoon will soon be here,' my mother said, ‘we must hurry. All the chaungs will be impossible to cross once flooded;
we must continue in the cool of the evening and find safe shelter before the monsoon arrives.'

“We kept you in the pram to avoid any delays, and dressed you in a long silk chemise that once belonged to one of the De Souza girls, and put a bonnet on your head. We both pulled and pushed the pram using the string my mother had bought from the market. Shady trees were now becoming rare; wood for the fire was also scarce so we slept without a fire that night.

“At around noon the following day we could walk no longer, there was no shade to be found. We placed a blanket over the pram and sheltered under it. Before we realized it, a large group of wild looking people were approaching us. Most of the men and the elders were mounted on small Shan Ponies. The women were leading draught animals that were laden with their belongings. All the men were tattooed on their legs, arms and bodies and carried the Burmese dahs in their belts; some carried rifles.

“My mother got up and approached one of the elderly women sitting on a pony and spoke to her in village Burmese; pointing to you in the pram, she asked for water. The old woman said they were short of water themselves. The Burmese are generally fond of children and a long discussion took place. I thought they were discussing whether to kill and rob us. Finally the elderly woman took out a water container and carefully poured half a small coconut shell for each of us. Mother asked where the nearest water was to be found and if the Japanese were near. The tribeswomen pointed and told her that there was a village nearby. The tribespeople then continued their journey.

“This group of rough tribespeople looked like dacoits or opium traders to me. My mother thought they were a Chin tribe who had left their village because of the war and were trying to escape to the Yomas Hills far to the west. We turned and headed for the village in the direction the tribeswomen had pointed, but by nightfall we still hadn't found it. We had to stop for the night in the open again. As usual, we spread a waterproof sheet on the ground and covered ourselves with two blankets. I always made sure the blankets were well tucked under us as snakes and scorpions were known to seek the warmth of sleeping humans.

“If it were not for the mango showers that came the following day we may have died of thirst. Having filled our containers we continued on our journey and came across some tomari bushes
[Chinese gooseberries].
We spread our blankets over these bushes and rested in the shade. The following day the mango showers began in earnest and we laid out all our vessels to collect as much water as possible. When one filled up we drank it and placed it out again. We also washed ourselves in the rain. These mango showers were not as heavy as they were in Taunggyi. You used to sit naked and play in the puddles like an urchin. These showers continued and deep puddles appeared, sometimes containing the larva of mosquitoes, tadpoles and even tiny fish. I was so happy we could wash ourselves every day with soap. We still could not find the village in question so my mother decided we should just head towards the distant hills and hope to find shelter. Sleeping outside would be out of the question when the rains began. The rain had flooded out many of the venomous creatures that lived in holes in the ground. Scorpions and centipedes were scurrying around, even during the day, which was very dangerous, so I carried you everywhere; a sting or a bite could easily have killed you.

“We were forced to move to higher ground and by the afternoon were all very hungry and stopped to cook food. Dry tinder was a problem. It was while your grandmother was poking around looking for dry twigs underneath the bushes to light a fire, that she saw and killed a large and beautiful Russell's viper. I would never eat snakes knowingly but it was sometimes difficult to ascertain what was in my mother's dishes; snake looked a lot like fish. I thank God none of us were bitten. While we were interned at Tada u, Maureen James, an Anglo-Indian girl who used to be a nurse, worked for the Japanese in the admin building. She told us there were several deaths due to snake bite among the many Japanese troops who went out on patrol. All the anti-venom in Burma was commandeered by the Japanese who ruined it by not storing it at the correct temperature. As a result many Japanese soldiers died despite receiving the anti-venom injection. Believing it to be ineffective the Japanese doctors at Tada u stopped using it.”