Paradise Surrendered: Java 1942: Prisoners of War of the Japanese

By Frank Williams

This book covers the capture and imprisonment of Lieutenant Ronald Williams, by the Japanese, on Java in 1942. Williams’ artillery regiment had set sail from the Clyde to fight the Nazi in the Middle East, but were then diverted to the Far East after the Japanese invaded Malaya. Following the sudden surrender of Singapore, Java was next in the firing line and quickly succumbed. Williams’ and his remaining regiment were taken into captivity, which led to increasing levels of hardship and brutality. Stories and anecdotes leading up to the allied surrender and first nine months of imprisonment are included.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Self Publishing Partnership
• Release date: Nov 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781839523700

Book preview

Introduction

Lieutenant Ronald Williams survived three and a half years of incarceration in various Japanese POW camps in Central and West Java, leaving behind written accounts of his experiences. This book covers his arrival on Java in early February 1942, and an all-too brief-battle with the Japanese military. This was followed by the sudden and contentious surrender of the Allies. His first nine months as a Japanese POW are described, before his final release and homecoming in late 1945. After this early period of POW camp life, the prison regime became much harsher as the Japanese, who had been almost unstoppable in conquering much of the Far East, began to suffer reverses most notably at the Battle of Midway. Ronald Williams mentions very little of this later lengthy period of his prisoner life. However, conditions were still tough during the first year of prison life and the daily brutality was only partly tempered by important friendships with a kampong hunting dog called George, a Javanese girl named Wulan, and her siblings Reza and Nur. A remarkably human Japanese camp guard, Private Kenzo Matsuo, proved a tonic from the usual daily abuse of POWs from their captors. Many of the characters in this book existed, but some names have been changed to protect identities and others were not recorded. Williams considered Java, widely known as the ‘Bride of the Endless Sea’, as a true paradise which suffered unspeakable horrors following the Allied surrender to the Japanese in March 1942.

These events occurred barely eighty years ago – still within the lifetime of many people alive today. The war against fascism in Europe, the Middle East and Russia occupies much of our military history books. In 1942, although the United States had entered the war following the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, most Allied war efforts were devoted to destroying Hitler’s Nazis. The Japanese were not viewed as a formidable force and there had been little effective military planning in countering any Japanese threat. The fall of Singapore, early in 1942, came as a big shock to Churchill and the British people, although there had been warnings that the landward defences of Singapore were almost non-existent. This Achilles’ heel proved very costly. Much of the military equipment in the Far East, early in the war, was largely obsolete and had seen service in WW1. The Japanese, by contrast, had modern and highly effective weapons and military forces. The same poor military planning issues re-surfaced, which ultimately led to the surrender of Java to the Japanese. This was a lamentable period of Allied military history that has largely been swept under the carpet and features very little in standard military history books. In fact, the fall of the Dutch East Indies in 1942 has usually one or two lines of attribution, or no mention, in many historical accounts.

Chapter 1

‘WELCOME TO BATAVIA’

It was 5 February 1942 and we, the 77th Heavy Anti-Aircraft Artillery Regiment, had recently arrived at the port of Tandjong Priok, Batavia (now Djakarta), in a naval convoy. The convoy had set sail from Gourock Docks, Glasgow, in early December 1941. The docked convoy had an almost immediate ‘welcome’ from Japanese medium bombers, which thankfully caused negligible damage to the ships and their contents. We had anticipated this as a Japanese reconnaissance plane, a ‘Kodak Joe’, had been spotted on our approach to Java. My job, as battery sergeant major, was to organise our heavy ack-ack guns around the main port of Batavia to counter the increasing numbers of Japanese bombing raids. Our other two gun batteries, made up of eight 3.7-inch heavy anti-aircraft guns per battery, were due to leave for Soerabaja, a major naval base in the northeast of Java. The gun batteries set off late that evening, by train, with the heavy guns being transported by road because of the number of low bridges on the rail journey.

Next day I was sitting in my temporary office in the Dutch East India Company headquarters, contemplating our rather dire situation. This followed another disturbed night’s sleep swatting mosquitoes due to a faulty mosquito net, and perspiring profusely from the intense humidity, which was strength sapping. I was also watching rather too keenly the harmless ‘chic chaks’ (small geckos), as the locals called them, scurrying across the ceiling in their quest to find small insects. Yes, why were we in Java? I thought to myself. Our naval convoy had stopped on its way to Basra, Iraq, at Cape Town, South Africa, for re-fuelling and resupply on Christmas Eve, 1941. We were all-too aware of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in early December and we were now at war with the Japanese, but not unreasonably we considered that the United States Navy would take care of the Japanese in the Pacific. On Christmas Day, the Japanese captured Hong Kong, a British Protectorate, which changed the whole complexion for us. Unsurprisingly, our original orders to meet up with General Auchinlech were rescinded. We were to head off to the fortress city of Singapore. Our journey into the Indian Ocean was speedy and unhindered. However, more bad news came through that the Japanese had invaded northern Malaya and were making alarming gains throughout the Malayan peninsula. The convoy was to divide in two, one half proceeding to Singapore and the other half, of which I was part, to Batavia in West Java. This is where events started to conspire against us. Some equipment, essential for heavy artillery guns, went in one direction only. Unfortunately, this was not in our direction, although we had the bulk of the heavy guns.

I was on the phone to the local Dutch commander wondering where we could locate some Vickers gun predictors for our ack-ack guns, as we had none. Unfortunately, the Texan National Guard Unit, the sole United States military on Java, had only light artillery and machine guns and could not help. Bombardier Wells came in and told me that I was needed urgently on the other phone line. I curtailed my call to the Dutch officer and listened in to the message.

‘BSM Williams, this is Major Barkley speaking; I need to tell you that there has been a terrible train crash. We are stopped just beyond Semerang and there have been fearful casualties. I believe at least six officers and twelve senior non-coms have been killed and at least thirty men with moderate to serious injuries. My main reason for phoning you is to say that we will urgently need replacement men from your gun battery. A number of you will be given field commissions and NCOs will be promoted. I will send a list through when we have worked out the replacements. I am sorry, Williams, but I cannot, at this stage, give you any details of who has been killed or injured. Will you please liaise with your gunnery officers, as soon as you can?’

‘Yes, sir, I will immediately liaise with Captain Stevens, but how did this happen?’ I asked.

‘We think it was sabotage, as our train driver and the fireman have vanished and the train we hit was clearly abandoned before the crash. Sorry, Williams, I can’t go into details as I will have to go. There is much work to be done to sort out this disaster.’

I sat in a state of shock for more minutes than I can remember. I knew, personally, virtually all the men on that troop train, especially officers and senior non-coms. I could have lost some very good friends in this crash. Many of us had been together in the Artillery Regiment since September 1939, when fighting against Hitler’s Luftwaffe. I finished my Chinese tea, which was supposed to be a good deterrent against malaria, and sat listening to the clanging and clattering of betjacks (taxis) outside, in a complete daze. Bombardier Wells woke me from my apparent stupor and asked if everything was alright. I related events to him, but told him not to alarm the men unduly.

Orders came through to transfer artillery men to Soerabaja as soon as I could arrange road transportation. I was to be promoted to second lieutenant and be the officer commanding the first rapid transit convoy to take