Month: February 2014

Slave Labourer in Nagasaki – Conclusion

The camp was rife with rumors. Sometimes David Brandon managed to smuggle in a newspaper left behind by a Japanese worker, but one day he was called by the Japanese interpreter, an ex-hairdresser from Surabaya, and interrogated by the commander.

David denied everything and was beaten and threatened with a revolver at his temple. Back in camp, in front of the guard house, his arms were tied behind his back and then he was hoisted up a pole in such a way that he had to stand on his toes and hang from his arms. He stayed in that position until the next day. More beatings followed until a U.S. Air Force officer, who was a spokesman for the English, Dutch and American officers, appealed to the international Red Cross in Tokyo even though Japan had not signed the Geneva Convention for POWs. David was transferred to the camp hospital, where he stayed for two or three weeks. His arms were grotesquely swollen because of the hanging.

In March 1944 we were overjoyed to see the first B-29 bombers fly overhead. There were no signs on the roof of the camp buildings to tell them that we were POWs. Up there they were free, while down below we were prisoners. We were put to work building tunnels into the rocky hills for air raid shelters. The air raid sirens now sounded several times a day.

In July 1945 I was transported to a coal mine in a crowded train with tightly shut windows – a twelve-hour ordeal. Although the camp looked very bad from the outside, it was an improvement over our previous camp. The small rooms housing six men each, allowed more privacy. Here we could take a bath every day, and we were given more food.

Working in the mines was very dangerous and there were many accidents. We did not see daylight till the weekends because we left each morning before sunrise and returned after sunset. We named the person in demand Crazywind. For such minor infractions as not having our buttons done up we were severely punished.

We sensed that freedom could not be far away. One evening we saw the red glow of a burning city. On August 15, 1945, we observed soldiers, strangely subdued, listening to their radio. Our POW officers were invited into the main office, where they were offered chairs. Then they heard that the Emperor had surrendered.

Gradually our officers took command. We were finally given the Red Cross parcels held back by the guards. Planes parachuted in many barrels of food. We shared our bounty with the Japanese and made excursions outside the camp. The people outside the camp looked very poor, because they had also suffered. Three of us had our picture taken and paid for it with a blanket.

On September 18, we were taken out of the camp. We took the train back to Nagasaki, but now every window was open, we yelled at the farmers in the fields. But we quieted down when we noticed the destruction all around us. All we could see were deserted streets and remnants of some concrete buildings. Everything else had burned down. The town was no more. The smell of burning hung in the air, and the shadows of the dead were everywhere. We only heard the clicking of the train going through this mass grave.

At the main station the American Red Cross was waiting for us. We were treated like kings; nice women served us tea and coffee. We were taken to a bath-house to clean ourselves and to be deloused and disinfected. All our possessions were burned, except for a few souvenirs which were also disinfected. I was flown to Okinawa and from there sent to Manila, where we were housed in a big tent to recuperate from our ordeal at the hand of the Japanese.

It is tragic that it took the total destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki to convince the Emperor to end the war that he had started. As for myself, I was left with the sobering thought that if I had not been sent to the mines, I would have perished by those very bombs that brought freedom to so many.

Excerpt by John Franken. Published earlier in Four Years till Tomorrow

As always: I welcome your comments.

Until next time,

Ronny

 

 

Slave Labourer in Nagasaki – Part Five

I chose to be a cleaner. I had to sift through large piles of dirt that had been collected from the ship being built and remove all the nuts, bolts and other metal objects. These were cleaned and reused. It was a very cold job and my fingers became badly swollen. To combat the unbearable noise I put little pieces of wet newspaper in my ears. There was little supervision as we worked directly under the wharf foreman and the guard was far away.

It was a very dirty, unpleasant job. In the darkness under the ship there were many puddles so that my feet were always wet. One day while we were resting, we made a small fire to warm ourselves. When a guard spotted us he was beside himself with rage. As punishment we had to be in a push-up position for twenty minutes. If we sagged we were hit with the butt of a gun. My stomach muscles hurt for weeks afterwards.

Our lunch came in two sardine cans – one with seaweed, the other with rice. There was no place to heat our food, and it had to be guarded carefully or it would be stolen. We were starved when we returned to camp after each day’s work. If we were sick and could not work we only received half a ration of food.

Then I got a break. They needed electrical welders, and since I had learned the trade at technical school, I volunteered. The foreman was very pleased with a sample of my work and the next day I was given my welding outfit: a canvas jacket and trousers, plus a welding cap. Now I could sabotage by so-called cold welding; it looked good on the outside but was not melted on the inside. After a while I was promoted to welding the big masts of the ships. I learned to do a better job. The weather got still colder and I was glad I had my canvas outfit.

Then things again took a turn for the worse. While hammering slack coal I got a sliver in my eye, resulting in a serious infection. I was transferred to the blacksmith shop, where I helped an elderly Japanese. Under his guidance I made a steel-rod rack which was placed inside the chimney to heat up the lunches for the boys working outside. This was greatly appreciated.

Safety precautions were not taken. Many times when working with the steel masses I was in near-accidents which could have left me dead or severely maimed. On both sides of the dock were ten concrete floors to supply the ships below with the steel components. While we were being counted on the side of the dock, one Japanese worker fell from the tenth floor. His brain was splattered on the pavement below. The guards laughed loudly when this happened. Till this day I don’t understand their kind of humor.

There was also an incident among the Japanese workers who had to hammer big steel plates which came out of the furnace. One of these workers found a kitten, which everyone stroked. Then for some unknown reason, the worker threw the kitten onto the red hot plate. Its shrieks were bone-chilling; in no time it had burned into a small heap of ashes. Everyone laughed as if it was a big joke.

That winter was the first time I saw snow. I was shivering all the time and my hands and feet were always cold. I imagined getting hold of empty cement bags and cutting openings for my arms and head to keep the wind out. On the weekends we had a very hot bath in a community bath house. When everybody stood naked we could see how skinny we were. It was a sorry sight indeed, with ribs and bones showing, and the bites of bedbugs and lice covering our bodies.

On Christmas 1942 we were each given an apple. We were very happy with this small token. A soldier, Stevens, in room 18 obtained a violin from the Japanese to play on special occasions and weekends. He was a master. For the New Year we received our first winter outfit of the same quality as that of the soldiers.

Then I came down with dysentery. My elderly boss hid me under the drive belt of the main power supply and brought me soft rice. I lost a lot of weight. From Dr. Nieuwenhuis I received some opium drops to stop the diarrhea. I was very luck y to pull through because many died of this disease. There were many trips to the crematorium.

The hunger continued to get worse and we talked about food all the time. Our feet started to swell due to lack of vitamin B. At the sawmill where I worked there was a machine that separated the rice from the chaff. I managed to get a couple of cups of chaff every day, which I ate after having cooked it with some water over the smith’s fire. Slowly my feet returned to normal.

We were happy when the day ended without any mishaps or beatings. I talked a lot with my friends, especially David Brandon, who was more educated in the Jewish religion. On the weekends we had a cabaret but took pains to prevent the Japanese from discovering it. If a guard was coming we called Rood voor! (Red is coming!) These highlights on the weekend kept us going, giving us a laugh now and then. We lived day by day and hoped that one day there would be an end to this nightmare.

Excerpt by John Franken. Published earlier in Four Years till Tomorrow

To be continued.

As always: I welcome your comments right here on this page.

Until next time,

Ronny

 

 

Slave Labourer in Nagasaki – Part Four

As the rumours increased about an American landing on the other side of the island, three of my roommates escaped. The following morning at counting time it was discovered that they were missing. The whole camp was called together; the camp commander was furious. Immediately ten hostages were taken from the corner where the escapees normally slept. The Japanese commander let it be known that they would be killed if the escapees were not returned within three days, and that he would continue taking hostages till the men were back. This measure was meant as a deterrent for other would-be escapees. One of the hostages, my friend Plasse, was asked what he would like as his last meal. He asked for egg shells. When the guard did not understand and asked Plasse why he wanted egg shells he answered, “I need all the calcium for my bones when I am dead.”

After three days the escapees were back in camp. The natives had told the Japanese search party where to find them. The three men, still in their green army uniforms and their puttees around their legs, were severely beaten. The Japanese camp commander pronounced the death sentence. To show that he was not entirely without feelings, he released the ten hostages. They were quite shaken by their ordeal, which would scar their minds forever. We were issued a warning that if there ever would be another escape, these ten men would be executed. On the day the three escapees were executed, they were taken to an open field outside the camp. They had to dig their own graves, kneel in front of them, and then were beheaded.

I was stationed to work in a brothel. It was housed in a school in which the classrooms had been converted into smaller rooms. I saw many trucks with native girls between fourteen and seventeen years old, and some even younger. They were transported to the hospital for a check-up prior to sexual contact and rape by the Japanese officers and soldiers. We were not allowed to talk to the girls. The most beautiful of them were kept in a different part of the school for the officers. At the entrance of the yard was a soldier who would punch holes in ID cards which entitled the soldiers to have intercourse with the girls.

As soon as five or six soldiers had passed, my friend and I were called in to remove the towel stretched across the room and install a new one. Some of the girls accepted it and were just like zombies. Others would scream Tulung! Tulung! (help). I felt very uncomfortable and sorry for them.

One time we played a big joke on the Japanese cook. Every morning a small bag full of bananas was delivered to the camp and put under a tree near the guard house, to be picked up by the cook for the Japanese soldiers’ lunch. There was a bench under this tree where we could sit. One day we took turns sitting on the bench and while we sat there we each took out a few bananas and replaced them with twigs and small pieces of wood so that the bag remained the same size. After the bag was emptied of bananas, we watched to see what would happen. When the cook came to pick up the bag, he almost flipped over because he had expected the bag to be heavy with bananas. The Kurrah’s were heard a mile away! But luckily he gave up and walked away, and we realized what a dangerous game we had played!

Life in Japan

On October 14, 1942, along with other POWs, I sailed out of the harbour of Macassar for Japan on the Asamah Maruh. We were below deck with some cows. It was terribly hot and dark and the smell of urine and sickness permeated the hold. The portholes remained closed throughout the voyage. Many became seasick and had other ailments, and there was no opportunity to go anywhere to relieve ourselves. We did it where we were since we were allowed to go on deck only once a day. After ten days I was ready to give up.

When we arrived in the harbour of Manila we saw the carnage the Japanese had inflicted on the American fleet. The warships were lying on the bottom of the harbour with their smokestacks sticking out. I said a prayer for those who had drowned in their ships.

But this was not our destination. Some food and water were brought on board. We refueled and then in the dead of night we headed north. Due to the cold temperature and lack of warm clothing, many caught pneumonia. Late in the afternoon of October 23^rd we arrived in Nagasaki. The harbour looked beautiful with the hills in the background against a blue sky.

After we landed we were counted again and again, and then had to march to the infamous Fukuoka Two, a wooden camp with a guardhouse and a barbed wire fence around it. The compound was adjacent to the giant shipbuilding wharf. The barracks were in a U-form with eighteen rooms on each side with the washrooms and the kitchen in the connecting part. Each room housed fifty-two POWs. There was a row of thirteen bunk beds on each side. We kept our belongings under the bunk beds, behind sliding doors. Narrow tables and benches stretched through the center of the room to a large window in the end wall. Room 14 was my room for the next few years and my number 620 was printed on all my clothing.

Many died of pneumonia and dysentery shortly after we arrived in this camp. On November 19, 1942, we had to report for work. There was much yelling and speeches were held warning us to work hard, or risk punishment if caught loafing or committing other infractions.

Excerpt by John Franken. Published earlier in Four Years till Tomorrow

To be continued.

As always: I welcome your comments right here on this page.

Until next time,

Ronny

 

Slave Labourer in Nagasaki – Part Three

Whenever we passed a guard we had to make a proper bow. If we did not do this properly we were called by the soldier. While standing at full attention, we would receive blows to the sides of our heads with the inside of his fist. With our eyes closed we would not know when the fist would strike. The idea was to fall immediately to the ground, otherwise the guard would call another prisoner and command him to hit us as hard as he was able. If this was not done to the guard’s liking, he demonstrated for us until we got it right. We practiced how to hit and make a bad fall. If the guard laughed loudly, it meant he was satisfied.

We were divided into work groups to clean up the debris from the bombing. Many buildings, stores and harbour-storage places had been destroyed. The cleaning of the storage buildings proved especially fruitful as there were still supplies of clothing and canned food under the rubble. Much of the food had been spoiled either by fire or weather conditions, but some were still in good condition. We ate it on the spot, as it was too risky to bring into the camp.

One day we found a burned-out wine cellar in the basement of a store. There were three wine barrels and many bottles. Some of us kept vigil and kept the guard busy to distract him. One by one we went to the cellar and tasted some of the wine, but of course some could not stop themselves and overindulged. They became quite drunk and on the way back to camp were the happiest prisoners ever. One prisoner who had a bottle of wine was caught. He was severely beaten with the famous water-soaked rope, followed by a lot of screaming and yelling from the Japanese. When the man became unconscious they revived him by throwing several buckets of water on him. Then they tied him to a pole so he could not fall over and beat him again. The man was too drunk to react as he was completely numb, and he started singing at the top of his voice. Tied by a rope to a bicycle, he was then dragged with his face to the ground. Our own commander, Gortmans, now walked slowly to Yoshida, the Japanese bully, and snapped at him in Malayan “tjukup” ( this is enough). The man was unconscious and Yoshida acted surprised. He got off his bicycle and released the navy man to us.

Who was this Gortmans? Nicknamed Jan Oorlog (John War), he and a small group of soldiers had continued fighting a guerilla warfare in the mountains even after the official capitulation. He had taunted the Japanese army by broadcasting through his own radio that the Dutch East Indies had not yet surrendered and that the Dutch flag was still flying. Weakened by war and exhaustion, the group had become smaller and smaller. The Japanese had let them know that if they did not stop fighting, action would be taken to destroy the fighting men’s families. The Japanese were infuriated, however, when they realized that Jan Oorlog had only a handful of men and a few bits and pieces of armour. They had been fooled into believing they were dealing with a much larger force.

Due to Gortman’s heroism, he automatically became the POW camp leader and everybody, including Yoshida, had the highest respect for him. After we left for Nagasaki, however, he was decapitated. Was it possible that the Japanese at last took revenge on this man who had humiliated them with his mock surrender?

One day Yoshida saw an English prisoner not bowing properly. As a result he was tied to a pole of the barbed wire fence near the guard house, facing the street so that the city inhabitants could see him. Soon there was a small crowd. Yoshida began whacking the Englishman with a billiard queue. He kept hitting and hitting till his own pants were wet with semen. The prisoner’s hands, which were tied to his back, were also hit, breaking his wrists. When the ordeal was over and the Englishman was untied, he looked Yoshida straight in the eyes and with sheer willpower walked away.

When I witnessed this I asked myself how people could inflict pain on their fellow men, sometimes in the name of their gods. This man Yoshida must have parents and a family at home. I do not know how all this fits together.

The smuggling became bolder, and we sometimes had eggs for breakfast. There was one good Japanese who risked his life by giving us a day’s advance notice if there was to be an inspection. We would usually tie the food to the tree branches out of sight.

One day we ran out of wood and had to find something to make a fire. We decided to take a piano apart and use the wood. This piano was standing in a little cabin near the guard house; when we were done only the strings were left. When they found out, all hell broke loose. Our barrack, which was closest to the cabin, was suspected, but when nobody came forward we all had to stand in line. Each of us received four lashes on our behind with the famous rope. I was black and blue.

Yoshida was a specialist in torture. Sometimes we had to kneel for long periods of time with a stick behind our knees. This cut off the circulation so that standing up became impossible and the pain excruciating. Moustaches were pulled off, sometimes with the skin. If we were caught with the tiniest piece of newspaper, the punishment was very severe, like putting iodine in our noses or being put in a push-up position with hot coals under our bellies.

One day when returning to camp after a day’s work, I carried a small bag of fine-ground dried hot peppers, the hottest you could find, the Lombok rawit. I had the bag in one of my shoes which I carried over my shoulder. I had used this method many times before, but this time the guard called me back and stuck his hand into my shoe, finding the peppers. As punishment he ordered me to eat the contents of the bag while he stood by and watched. I began to experience severe burning sensations in my mouth and stomach, but I was not eating it fast enough to his linking, so he pushed it down my throat. For weeks I was very sick and could not eat. My esophagus was totally damaged. I still suffer from the damage done and continue to take medication because of the scar tissue which can bleed at any time.

Excerpt by John Franken. Published earlier in Four Years till Tomorrow

To be continued.

As always: I welcome your comments right here on this page.

Until next time,

Ronny