A General's Journal: Tales Behind a Malaysian Airforce Veteran

By Brigadier General Datuk Goh Seng Toh RMAF (Rtd)

Through a span of thirty five years in a career as a pilot in the Air Force of a developing and sometimes turbulent country, the author has managed to piece together his life history both from the career perspective and also a glimpse into his private life. It reflects his joys and tribulations; hopes and disappointments during that span of time.

The auther has written in an easy to read style punctuated with humour to make the book easy and pleasant to read. The lead in reflects the thought that went through the mind of a little country boy in a poor and under privileged surroundings. His candid description of his childhood experiences can be humorous to some.

He then introduces the reader into the vagaries of a military life in a back water and developing country and his experience of some remnants from a Colonial rule. Overall the book makes light and refreshing leisure reading.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Aug 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781543774962

Brigadier General Datuk Goh Seng Toh RMAF (Rtd)

Author is a significant person in that he was born and brought up in an underdeveloped backwater Colonial country Malaya (later Malaysia). In a span of 35 years he lived through an extremely wide and varied experiences from childhood till retirement. He also represents a person who has managed to rehabilitate himself from a 35 year military life to a that of a businessman.

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Copyright © 2023 by Brigadier General Datuk Goh Seng Toh RMAF (Rtd).

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1     The Earliest Memory of My Life

Chapter 2     GST Goes to School

Chapter 3     1959 Onwards

Chapter 4     GST Started Working

Chapter 5     GST Joined the Air Force

Chapter 6     A Budding Pilot

Chapter 7     Off to the United Kingdom

Chapter 8     The 13 May Disturbances

Chapter 9     I Tied the Knot

Chapter 10   The Goh Family Moved to Kuching

Chapter 11   Back to the Peninsula

Chapter 12   Commandant of RMAF Base, Kluang

Chapter 13   My Wife, the Magician

Chapter 14   Operation Gubir

Chapter 15   AVM Tan Sri Sulaiman Sujak

Chapter 16   Sam Welch and I

Chapter 17   My Dear Labuan

Chapter 18   Encounter with the Paranormal

Chapter 19   My Kinabatangan Episode

Chapter 20   The National House Buyers Association

Chapter 21   The Malaysian Armed Forces Chinese Veterans Association (MACVA)

Chapter 22     Uncle Lim’s Cafe

Rising To The Occasion For The Nation

Glossary

THREE GREENS

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T he term ‘three greens’ refers to the final stage of a flight for an airplane when it is a bout to land. The pilot will report to the air traffic controllers, ‘Three greens’. This is to confirm that he has successfully lowered the landing gears and is all set up to land. I do not need to explain the consequences of landing an airplane without lowering the landing gears! The flight will be completed shortly, and in most cases, the mission has been accomplished. At 52, I am at the point in my career which is analogical to that phase in flight when the aircraft commander calls, ‘Three greens’. Flight about to terminate, mission has been accomplished!

Almost the whole of my working life has been spent serving in the Royal Malaysian Air Force (RMAF). I always believe that the military holds something different and unique. It is a sort of combination of the extremes. Few professions in this world will take you to the extremes, from being shot at by insurgents and wallowing in the swamp throughout the night (both of which I do not savour!) to the more ostentatious ones like dining and joking with the king, golfing and singing with sultans, and accompanying foreign presidents and other VVIPs who are guests of our country. I think no profession can match the richness and the diversity in the military. Few professions offer a person the opportunity to press oneself to his mental as well as physical limits.

To Boey – my best friend, my lifelong room-mate, my source of inspiration, my counsellor, my confidante, my source of joy (and sometimes pain too!), and most of all the mother of my three beautiful children – I dedicate my love.

You are probably thinking that I am being overambitious in this attempt to commit my life history on paper. And to think of having it published may sound somewhat preposterous! All I can hope for at this stage is that my writing skill can match the rich life that the air force has given to Boey and me. A person gets only one shot at life in this universe. Hence, it will be such a pity if it is not documented and preserved and shared by others, especially my immediate family, my close relatives, and some of my dear friends. It will seem such a pity to allow my life history to be obliterated when my light goes out, no matter how humble or mundane it may be.

Humble? Maybe. Mundane? I’m not too sure. Let me take you along.

CHAPTER 1

THE EARLIEST MEMORY

OF MY LIFE

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At one year old

M y earliest memory of life in this world was probably around 1949, when I must have been around 4 years old. The family was on an outing to Kota Tinggi. We were at the back of a lorry which Pa must have arranged from his office in the Lee Rubber Factory at 8½ milestone (Pueh Ko Pnua) Jalan Skudai. It was raining, and the tarpaulin was leaking as we were travelling. I could not recall any other thing during that outing.

At this stage, a bit about our roots may be appropriate. Ah Kong (Grandpa) Goh Kee Soo came to Malaya (then) when he was a young man. Our ancestor county was Quanzhou, Fujian, China. That must have been around the 1920s. He was the eldest and had three other brothers. The second brother, whom I knew as Jee Chek Kong, and the fourth brother, See Chek Kong, also made it to Malaya. I never got to see his fourth brother because it seemed he was killed by the Japanese during the war.

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3 generations in my childhood home

Kong carried out various businesses. Amongst them was the gunnysack shop at Clive Street, Singapore, which we knew as Ma Ta Tsu Hung, literary translated to ‘Police Station Lane’. This shop was handed over to his second brother at some stage, and they continued to run the business until recently when the area was demolished to make way for urban development by the Singapore authorities.

His third brother did not make it to the South Seas because, apparently, he was the black sheep of the family. It seemed that he was an opium addict and would con anybody and everybody to get some money to spend on opium. One of the stories which Kong used to tell us was that he would fake illness and would show people a leech and said that it came out from his navel! In fact, this became a bit of a family analogy whenever we referred to someone who was trying to bluff others! This third brother died, and the wife remained a widow until her death sometime in the eighties. The Chinese called it tsiu khua, and it is supposed to be the most honourable thing a widow can do. Kong must have made a vow to support her, for he used to send money to her whenever he was able to.

There was a sundry shop called Lam Soon which handled all mail to and from China. Kong used to go to them to send whatever letters and money he had to send. This third brother had two sons, who was brought up by the widow mother. The elder one was called Hun Chong, and the younger adopted one was called Hun Ju. It seemed Hun Chong was thoroughly spoilt by his mother and was one of those who loved leisure and not work. (Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?) We met them when sis Buan brought us to China in 1994. We also saw that he could play the Chinese violin quite well. In fact, he demonstrated this to us when he joined one of those groups of street performers in Quanzhou City.

Another business which Kong got into was the movies. Just after the war, he was operating the Capitol Cinema in Johor Bahru. In fact, the site where the present Merlin Tower is standing used to be where the Capitol Cinema was. Ah Bu (Mother) used to recollect how Kong (Grandfather)would give her money after the day’s show was over and ask her to take me out for supper. I was too small to remember anything. That must have been in around 1947–48. Kong also operated cinemas in some other locations, and I used to hear him talk about Tangkak in Johor.

Ah Ma (Grandma) picked up the nickname of Hee Hng Ah Mm (Grandaunt of the Cinema). In fact, in those days in Pontian, she was quite well known. It was such a pity that Kong did not progress further in his show business. Apparently, he fell seriously ill when he was 62 years old and almost died. On principle, he refused opium when advised by the locals that it might cure him.

It seemed that with the bitter memories of the experience of his third brother (the addict), he had made a vow that he would not have anything to do with opium. I had heard him advising Pa that he could get involved in any kind of business but that he should not have anything to do with opium. Such was his abhorrence of the stuff. I supposed in those days where regulating bodies were lacking, one could get involved in many kinds of businesses, a lot of them illegitimate, and make a lot of money. I have heard of the cliche that behind every wealth there is a crime!

I had always thought how nice it would be if Kong had continued and had prospered in his movie business. But as fate would have it, his business venture was cut short, and Pa was in no position to continue with it. We missed the chance to be the movie magnate of Malaysia in the leagues of Shaw Brothers, the Cathay organisations, and the Golden Harvest movie giants!

Pa told us that he came to Malaya when he was 8 years old but went back shortly after that. He came again when he was 18 years old. That meant he first arrived here in around 1920.

I used to hear stories of how, in those poverty days in China, baby girls born in the family would be drowned in a basin as soon as they were born. Only male babies were kept. Such was the circumstances during those times. Families with a lot of male offspring were the powerful families. Some people would say that we were now paying for the misdeed of our ancestors, and that was the reason why we were experiencing three generations of each family having only one male child. Pa was the only son (Uncle Hun Beng was adopted), I was the only son (bro Koon was adopted), and it looked like my son, Kah Lyn, would have to be content with two sisters, Yew May and Eu Hui. They said that all those baby girls who were tragically drowned in those days by our ancestors were coming back with vengeance to be reborn! Sis Buan had only one son, Jin Kiat. Bee Geok had only Wei Sen. Bee Kim, too, had only one son, Benny. Bee Loon had two lovely daughters. Even bro Koon had only one son, Kah Chye. I wondered what the hell was going on!

Talking about beliefs, I was born on 1 September 1945 in what was then called oh tng au (behind the school) or chap lap keng (sixteen units of houses). That must have been just after the family shifted to Pontian from Johor Bahru. Actually, the particular house still stands, although it must have gone through some renovations. My birth date corresponded to the fourth day of the seventh month of the Chinese calendar, the month of the hungry ghosts. (It must be the reason for my formidable appetite!)

Ah Bu always said that the Japanese surrendered shortly before I was born. I think they were very wise. I would too if I had realised that a guy like GST was about to be born! I was called by various nicknames. Brother Koon used to called me Uai Tsui Kau (literary the slant-mouthed monkey!), and Tua Tau (big head) is the nickname that I am stuck with till this day. I had a head that was too big for my age (literary not in the figure of speech which we are used to). You’d notice it in the photos.

It seemed that I was struck with some persistent high fever sometime when I was a baby, and upon recovery, my facial feature would contort to the left side whenever I smiled. Pa reckoned that I suffered from a mild case of polio. I think I still have that feature. Anyway, I couldn’t be bothered now as I didn’t think that it was too serious. If Boey reckoned that it was not serious enough for her to avoid marrying me, then what was there for me to worry?

(I was a bit upset at this juncture. It was now 10.16 hrs. on 22 February 1998. I had just returned to Labuan after a long Chinese New Year leave, where I also spent the last couple of weeks with our youngest daughter, Eu Hui, before she proceeded to Melbourne to finish her last two years pursuing her commerce degree in Monash University. During the New Year visit to Ah Ko-ah(Adopted Aunt), I was made to understand that I was actually born on the fourth day of the seventh month in 1945. Through one of those conversion charts, my niece Bee Yen converted that day, and it actually corresponded with the Gregorian date of 11 August 1945! That meant I’d been celebrating a wrong birth date all these years! That also made me a Leo rather than a Virgo. Anyway, Leo people are better people!

I was one of those babies who was difficult to raise. I suppose air force generals don’t come easy! The Chinese believe that if one is destined to have few children or no child at all, then one of the ways to avoid losing a child was to kuey (give to adoption) him away to someone who has a lot of offspring. Thus, Ah Bu had to find suitable godparents for me so that I could tumpang (latch on) their luck and fate to survive and not be lost as fate might have it otherwise.

Thus, the Tan Chuan Swee family came into the scene. At that time, they lived in one of the houses opposite the one I was born in. I was duly kuey’ed to them, and from then on, Tan Chuan Swee (my godfather) and Aunt Chuan Swee Tsim were to be my godparents (Kuey Bu and Kuey Peh). They had two sons, Tiam Teng (Ah Kow) and Tiam Lai (Ah Tai), plus quite a few daughters. I was to spend quite a fair amount of my childhood time with them when they moved to Kampung Api-Api. On the eve of every new year, Bu would buy a pork leg, plus the other paraphernalia including an ang pow, to be delivered to my godparents. They would cut off the meat from the thigh but would always return the leg. The leg is needed for walking, and you must never ever take it away from anybody! They would also add some money into the ang pow for us to take back. Godpa passed away sometime around 1986, and Godma died in 1995.

Bu made doubly sure that I would not be taken away prematurely by making me the godson to another being, this time the Sien Chor Diety. The temple used to be beside the Pontian bus terminal. Again, on the eve of every new year, Bu would take me to this Diety’s temple to conduct the rigmarole. Usually, some ang pow would be given to the caretaker; and in return, I would be given some hoo (yellow holy paper) to keep me away from harm’s way. I think all these were very effective. I am the living proof!

Pa was a clerk in the Lee Rubber Factory at Pueh Ko Pnua. He would come back to Pontian during the weekends on Saturdays, and young as I was, I could still remember that we would look forward to his coming home. We were then livig in a house on stilts which was bought from a Malay owner. Hence, it was the only poo kah lau (house on stilts) in the neighbourhood. We were living together with Ah Kong; Ah Ma; Ah Bu; Ah Ko-ah (more of her later); elder brother, Koon; and elder sister, Buan. Bee Geok, Bee Kim, Bee Loon, and Wei Ting were still in Neverland!

The house was a basic, Malay-style kampong house without power or piped water. Ah Bu said she paid Tua Ah Koh (first aunt) $400 for the house. When Pa managed to get piped water to the house, there was an air of excitement. It meant that Ah Kong did not have to set up the contraption to collect rainwater every time it rained, and Ah Ko-ah need not have to go and carry water from the Lee Rubber Factory. There was only one tap in the kitchen area, and Pa paid about $200 for the connection. I would put that point to be around 1951.

Our next-door neighbours were Hai Lam Ah Pek (Hailam Uncle) and Hai Lam Ah Mm (Hailam Auntie). There also used to be a fish seller who lived in a little shack behind our house, but he wasn’t there long. He moved out for some reason.

Whenever Pa came back, he would get VIP treatment (naturally). Grandma or Ah Bu, I’m not sure, would double-boil a pot of minced beef to make goo bak sok, essence of beef. Someone would then collect whatever residue from the beef and fry it again, and it still tasted quite good. On Sunday morning, he would be served five half-boiled eggs. Boy, if only he had heard of cholesterol etc.

Hai Lam Ah Mm would pay us $2 to tumpang the use of our tap water. You see, in those days, we were a bit of a bourgeois. They would bring back enough water for their home but would then shower in our bathroom. Their two sons, Chan Rook and Chan Mei, and the daughter, Moo Chen, would also come to our bathroom to shower. However, Hai Lam Ah Pek (Old Hailam Lam uncle) never came to our house to do so. I didn’t know where the hell he took his shower!

Ah Ma made a lot of impact on my childhood life. She was one of those vintage Chinese ladies who had bound feet. This was a condition where a girl’s feet were bound so that they got deformed for life. What happened was that while they were infants, the parents forced the small toes inwards and had them permanently bound and forced a deformation. The result was that the girl would end up with a pair of feet that were no larger than five inches. They had pointed big toes whilst the rest of the small toes were tucked under. The poor ladies actually moved around hobbling rather than walk due to the deformity. And the guys were supposed to go gaga over the sight of such ladies.

Perhaps there was another connotation to this practice. If a family was to have the young girl’s feet bound, then obviously, she would be quite useless in the field. Hence, if a family could afford to have her not working in the field, then they must have some social standing.

I felt that this was one of the cruel and senseless customs practised by the Chinese people in the past. I was also glad that this practice had stopped. However, in the case of Grandma, not only could she not walk properly but the feet actually also emitted a very foul odour due to the small toes being tucked in and the collection of sweat among the toes. So very frequently, Grandma would buy alum powder and would sit on the floor and rub the alum into the toes in between the folds. We used to watch her do it and would sometimes help her.

One day I was fooling around with a toy rifle Pa had bought me. This one had one of those projectile tips with a rubber sucker that would stick on any smooth surface when you hit it. Somehow I had picked up from somewhere that if you were shooting someone with a gun, you had to aim at the eye! Thus, with that toy rifle loaded, I took aim at Ah Ma’s eye. Of course, I had no intention whatsoever of pulling the trigger. (I swear!) Suddenly, the projectile went off on its own and hit Ah Ma right in the eye! The sky collapsed on me at that moment, what with Ah Ma playing the game by pretending to be badly hurt.

Another incident I shall never forget was the arbutus seed incident. This happened about the same time as the toy gun incident. The womenfolk were busy preparing food in the kitchen, and I was mooching around and eating one of those arbutus fruits. I saw this hole by the side of the wooden table where the folks were preparing food. I took out the arbutus seed from my mouth and stuck in into the hole. It fitted quite nicely. I then dug it out and then put the seed into my nose. It fitted quite nicely too! But when I tried to take it out, the damn thing just wouldn’t come out. The next natural thing to do, of course, was to try harder! I only succeeded in pushing it farther in. This was followed by harder attempts with more serious repercussions. Eventually, I found that I had pushed it really deep in, and there was no way I could take it out. Panic-stricken, I adopted the last resort – cry. That, of course, attracted a lot of attention. I couldn’t quite remember exactly how the crisis was resolved, but I believe they sent me to a barber and managed to have the seed dug out.

Talking about barber, Ah Bu always believed that young children should have their hair close-cropped, and I was to be no exception. Thus, I sported that Yul Brynner look for the major portion of my childhood. Bro Koon also went through the same works until he was quite big. Ah Ma was my barber until I was old enough to go to the town barber on my own. Come haircut time (in fact, it was more hair shave time), I, like all children, felt awkward. To pacify me, I would be given two packets of lee kiam, preserved plum in those unique packaging with two pieces in each. Only then would I sit still for Ah Ma to show off her shaving skill. Thus, all my childhood pictures had all been à la Yul Brynner or Telly Savalas or even Bruce Willis.

Around that time, See Tsim Po (fourth grand aunt) used to visit us. She had a mouthful of dentures and would make it a habit to take them out for ‘maintenance work’ after a meal. I would sit there and watch her in silence and marvel at the way she could remove her whole set of teeth and gums so easily. I couldn’t tell you the amount of time I must have spent trying to remove my set of teeth (or whatever I had then!) the way See Tsim Po did. Again, I didn’t remember ever being successful.

Ah Ko-ah also featured very significantly in my early years of life. A bit about Ah Ko-ah at this point would be appropriate. Actually, she was adopted into the family by Ah Ma to be a sim poo knia (literally a little daughter-in-law). She was to marry Uncle Hun Beng when they came of age. I presumed that was Ah Ma’s idea of ensuring that the future wife of Uncle Hun Beng was someone who was brought up within the family and was character moulded so that she would fit well into it. Also, perhaps it was to ensure that Uncle got a wife who was quality assured instead of marrying someone whose background was unknown. I couldn’t think of any other reason, and my personal opinion was that it was a very bad custom, and I was glad that it was no longer practised by the