My Journey – 2/29 BN Singapore/Malaysia/Thailand Pilgrimage – September 2007

PRELUDE:

As a youngster were you excited at the prospect of going on a long trip or a holiday? Did you lay awake counting the moments to the “big day”?

Well, that’s how I felt at the thought of commencing our trip to Singapore and Thailand.

For years prior I have listened to other sons of the Battalion recount their trips to where their father was in Singapore. For me it was “I’ll do that one day”. My problem was something always got in the way – work, family, time and a host of what are now irrelevant excuses.

The opportunity arose thanks to Doug Ogden and for once I decided to abandon all the excuses and “just do it”.

I knew that this opportunity would not come again – sure I could do a similar trip on my own or with Rosalie, but the lure of being able to not only visit all the normal places but also some that were not on the standard tourist route was too great.

I had also over a long period of time got to know some of the other sons – Andrew Brand, John Lack, Wayne Pickering, Colin Stiles, Ed Burton, Ron Lovett and of course Doug Ogden. Some of these guys had been several times but others had not. None of us had actually done this trip together in the past – so in one way we were all commencing a journey into the relatively unknown.

PRE-TRIP PREPARATIONS

Once I made the decision and paid my deposit, the reality that this “might” happen still had not sunk in.

I went through the motions of obtaining a new passport (that alone was an adventure in itself). Speaking to my doctor – no you don’t need any “shots”. Moreover, constantly talking to Rosalie – “are you ok with me going?” I think I asked her this same question at least twice a day leading up to the big day.

As Rosalie has always done she gave me 100% support and I guess what finally did it was to hear from her “you must go and do this – your dad would want you to go and so do I”.

I guess to finally squash any concerns I had, Rosalie bought me a new luggage case!

Doug’s emails started. Instructions on who was going (oops my name is on the list). Outline details on travel tips and what to pack – oh dear can this be actually happening? 

I sent an email to John Lack asking him whether he would like to “bunk” with me if he was still going. John emailed me back “of course I’m going – and yes let’s share a room”.

I also sent several emails to Doug – “what time are you getting to the airport?” “Can we take medals?” I must have driven him crazy with the number of questions.

No turning back now.

Packing for the trip was fun. Rosalie packed – and I unpacked!

A compromise was struck, and the case was finally locked and sealed.

DEPARTURE DAY 1 – TULLAMARINE – 0700HRS SATURDAY 1 SEPT

I had not slept the night prior. Again, like that youngster I tossed and turned all night trying to picture what the trip would be like and what I might see and experience.

Booked a cab for pick up at home by 0615 hrs. No way am I going to be late!!

Arrived at Tullamarine and I can feel my heart racing (we haven’t even taken off yet!).

Made my way into the international departures and wandered around somewhat aimlessly for 10 or 15 minutes. Exchanged some Aussie dollars for Singapore dollars and thought that was exciting! Later one became a bit blasé about currency exchanges as this was to be quite the “norm” during the trip.

Ah – a friendly face – there was Doug. I tried to look as casual as Doug looked about the whole thing, but I couldn’t. No doubt about it – I was here, and this was happening!!! Doug must have thought I was a nut!!

Luggage checked in and others began arriving. Wayne Pickering, John Lack, Colin & Marion Stiles arrived. Warm handshakes, a pat on the back and broad smiles all round. This was how it was to begin and (I didn’t know it then) but this set the tone and comradeship for the rest of the trip.

I had nominated myself to be the “official” photographer.

Great fun photos taken in the departure lounge, with me now acting like a 10-year-old. Doug’s already calling me the “larrikin”.

Further introductions – we met Brian & Dianne Martin and Geoff & Esme Hearn for the first time.

Finally, all present and accounted for and we began boarding. I could hardly contain my excitement – I wanted to sprint down the embarking corridor and push the plane off myself!

Take off time 1010hrs local time. Next stop – Singapore!

AIRBORNE TO SINGAPORE

No doubt about it – Singapore Airlines deserve their good name.

I sat next to Wayne Pickering (see nicknames) and his partner Chris. We chattered away and played with our individual onboard entertainment consol for a greater portion of the trip.

Nice food and wine served, and I was grateful for a drop of wine to try and lower my still bubbling excitement level!!

It is about a 6-hour flight.

Halfway there I stretched my legs and met Andrew Brand, Colin Stiles, Doug and Wayne Pickering all gathered near the toilet area. This seemed to be “the place to be”. Soon Marg Hogan and Karen Trevaskis (daughter and niece of Vic Wedlick DCM) joined us.

Lots of scattered conversations on their respective fathers, uncles etc. Doug there just calmly answering numerous questions from everyone. I grabbed my video camera and started recording. I made a decision there and then that I would do whatever I could to record every single moment of this trip – I did not want to miss one second!!

TOUCHDOWN!

After clearing customs and the usual security checks which did not take all that long - my first impression of Singapore was – HOT AND HUMID!

The humidity hits you like a blast of hot air from an oven.

We met our guide – Lawrence. I liked him straight away. He greeted us with an equally warm smile and an infectious laugh. Everyone was in high spirits.

We filed off to the coach with Lawrence leading the way (first stopping to photograph the first of many small temples dotted around Singapore).

More head counts and once all aboard off to the Rendezvous Hotel.

Lawrence made the trip to the hotel great fun. His friendly and often amusing descriptions of notable landmarks and his early display of knowledge of the Malayan campaign impressed me greatly. This guy has done his homework!

I tried to capture all the sights and sounds on video whilst also trying to soak everything in myself. I was immediately taken with Singapore. The wide streets and pristine buildings and landscaping are a credit to the people. There is the usual hustle and bustle like any big city but everything seemed to be “under control” and certainly no litter in the streets and no graffiti anywhere.

Arrival at the Rendezvous and check in. Very nice hotel and again Lawrence & Doug helping everyone in the group get settled in.

John & I check in to our room, and my first taste of John’s irrepressible humour begins.

There wasn’t to be a day that John didn’t make me laugh about something.

SINGAPORE SHOPPING – SUNDAY DAY 2

Andrew & Melanie Brand, Andrew’s sister, John Lack & I decided to shop for a new suit each.

We had already gone through the shonky tailor routine with Lawrence (comments like “double sided sticky tape and staples for seams” brought raucous laughter from everyone) so he recommended us to his tailor in Chinatown – Raffles Tailors – so off we all went by cab.

The cab driver was more interested in being “tour guide” rather than cab driver. He took us by some circuitous route to where we were supposed to go. He eventually dropped us off “somewhere” in Chinatown near the Singapore river but where we ended up was not even close to where we were supposed to be. Nevertheless, standing amongst the “locals” who obviously were still getting over their usual heavy Saturday night provided some interesting and eye-opening sights.

Out came the maps.

Now I thought Andrew might have inherited some of the navigational qualities from his late father Vic Brand MC, but it turns out Andrew is a much better lawyer than he is a navigator.

Yours truly took the “point” and we finally managed to end up outside Raffles Tailors.

Andrew & I measured for suits. John wanted a seer sucker suit and learnt of another place at the Swissotel Merchant Court. So off we trekked taking in all the sights and sounds as we walked.

Prior to us leaving Chinatown, Andrew helped me try and identify where my dad may have had his photo taken outside what was once a camera store. We searched in vain and finally agreed we must be close, so Andrew took my photo standing in the street – just like my dad did.

My first personal poignant moment.

The day concluded for me with having “high tea” at Raffles and the mandatory Singapore Gin Sling with Doug, Elisabeth, Andrew and Melanie – what a day!

KRANJI CEMETARY/CHANGI/SELERANG BARRACKS – MONDAY DAY 3

The smiling face of Lawrence greeted us as we prepared to hop on the bus for our first full day tour.

Some new faces had joined us. Jack Baker (who incidentally was the drum major in my Army Reserve Regiment – talk about a small world!), David Brace and Kerry Barker.

I sat with Ed Burton for a while. This will be a hard day for him – his dad lies in Kranji.

On the way, we visited what we know as Caldecott Hill and then to the Ford Factory where the Allies surrendered. Just incredible to know that these are the places where our fathers may have trod.

Kranji War Cemetery is nestled amongst lush tall trees. The site slopes seemingly endlessly to the sky and is dominated by imposing memorial archways and a huge white cross. The grass is like a bowling green, there is not one weed or speck of litter anywhere. All the headstones are glistening white and perfectly aligned. Straightaway you know you are on hallowed ground.

Unfortunately, progress has caught up with the site and there is the hum of road noise from the new freeways and construction noises that break the air.

I search for Arthur Sheldon’s name in the registry but no luck. Arthur was dad’s best mate and was killed at Muar. He and dad joined up together. I have included the epitaph that dad wrote for Arthur in earlier chapters of this book. Dad often talked about “ACE” as he was called in those rare moment’s dad shared his experiences with me.

I am kicking myself that I didn’t bring it.

Ed has found his father’s headstone. WO2 Alec Burton KIA Muar.

I felt privileged to be able to record this image, and I thank Ed for allowing me to intrude into this most precious moment for him.

I step back two steps and an image came into my view finder – Lieut A.C.E Sheldon KIA Muar. Until that moment I thought I was in control of my emotions, but nothing prepared me for the shock of seeing Arthur’s headstone. I am not ashamed or embarrassed – I wept uncontrollably. I found myself being wrapped in someone’s arms – it was Doug and Ed Burton.

I babbled out what I had seen, and Doug looked me in the eye and said” well you’ve found him”. We didn’t need to say any more than that.

At the headstone of Lieut Arthur Sheldon, killed in action at the Muar Road battle. Taken at Kranji War Cemetery, September 2007

Wrestling with my emotions I proceeded up the hill to the Memorial arches. I found Wayne Pickering standing there looking upwards. I followed his gaze and there on the wall was his dad’s name. Pte A.T.H Pickering KIA - body never recovered.

Shortly after, I note Doug is sitting with Wayne quietly holding his hand – again no words needed to be spoken.

Changi Chapel and museum is a very popular tourist stop and the day we were there was no exception.

We experienced our first tropical downpour, but nothing could dampen our spirits.

I ventured out in the rain to the chapel which is a replica of the real one which was relocated to Duntroon Military College.

I lit a candle for my dad and all those of the 2/29th who did not make it home – the image of Ed and Wayne foremost in my mind.

I could have spent a whole day just at the museum, but we were on a time limit so – back on the bus again.

Next stop the Johore artillery emplacement – or what was left of it. These were enormous gun emplacements guaranteed to stop any seaborne attack. They certainly would have been effective if the Japs had conformed to the British belief that a land-based attack was not possible.

Unfortunately, the Japs had other ideas.

The ammunition for these gun emplacements was armour piercing to destroy ships – totally ineffective against mobile troops on bicycles!

I took some great photos here and it was a time to perhaps recharge our sense of humour.

A bit a “posing” with the guns and even though it was still raining we wandered around getting soaked and taking countless photos of each of us and small groups.

Selerang Barracks is a restricted area and is not open for tourists. Thanks to Doug’s great work prior, we were able to gain access to the barracks.

This is of course where the infamous Selerang Square incident took place and I was keen to see the square.

We were graciously escorted by a young Major from the Singapore 9th Regiment to the museum contained within the officer’s mess building.

My dad commenced his officer training here, but I was saddened to learn that the barracks where he had his photo taken had since been pulled down and new barracks built.

We did though after leaving the museum see what was left of the original square, now covered with vehicles and vehicle hangers.

At least we can say we were there. More video footage and photos taken.

At some point we also passed St Patrick’s school were my dad completed his officer training. I would have loved to go there but the school was closed due to school holidays.

Again, more footage and photos taken.

Lunch at the Mandai Orchard Gardens was delightful and also a chance to gather our thoughts. Group spirits were back on a high again, and I began to sense a deepening bond between us all.

I have decided to refer to us as the “Family of the 2/29th” – we are now not just “Friends or Relatives of the 2/29th” – we are becoming one big family – as it would have been for our fathers.

PARIT SULONG/MUAR – TUESDAY DAY 4

We assemble early in the reception at the Rendezvous. Many of us are wearing our father’s medals and several of us are wearing our own.

The bus trip will take us across the border into Malaysia so it’s passports at the ready!

Lawrence is again a wealth of information and shares his knowledge of the Parit Sulong massacre and the events of Muar Rd.

We cross the border amongst enquiring glances from “locals” and the occasional friendly query from the border security guards who are somewhat fascinated with our medals. We then meet our Malaysian guide “Dass”.

The trip to Parit Sulong is filled with information and excitement level is high.

This service is to be televised and is already making press at home.

We arrive at Parit Sulong to a crowd of other participants, dignitaries, service personnel and most importantly of all – the veterans. About 6 in all including one most notable veteran – Capt Rowley Richards MBE, OAM,ED the former RMO of 2/15 Fd Regt and author of the book “A Doctors War” which I took with me to read.

I videoed the entire service which was very moving but tainted by overzealous photographers and thoughtless bystanders who intruded at the most inappropriate times.

Nevertheless, we were there representing the 2/29th and laid a wreath on behalf of the Battalion and then personal sprigs of flowers provided by the Australian Consulate.

The significance of this service and what it commemorated was truly appreciated by all of us, moreover because one of our own miraculously survived – Lieut Ben Hackney.

At the completion of the service we made our way to the abandoned building which is still standing and saw where Ben Hackney crawled with 2 broken legs and his arms bound with wire and hid from the Japs.

It is inconceivable how such inhumanity and cruelty can be brought against other human beings, but it did happen.

Hackney survived the war and came home where he became a very successful and prosperous wheat farmer. He never married and upon his death he bequeathed his residual Estate to the Battalion.

The Hackney Trust still exists today and is managed by the Battalion Trustees for the welfare and benefit of the Battalion members and their families.

The service was followed by a most enjoyable lunch for all concerned. I could not though get the ghosts of those that had suffered and died at this spot some 65 years ago out of my head.

A stop on the way back along Muar Rd in a search to find where the 2/29th dispersed into the jungle following the Muar Rd battle.

After several stops, we chose what we thought was the closest spot.

Walking along the side of the road we came upon a derelict old French type villa built in 1935. It was cement rendered and internally had a narrow staircase leading to what looked like upstairs rooms.

This seemed a most appropriate spot and it was here that we held our own private commemorative service. We were fortunate to be joined by Lynette Silver who addressed us. Lynette was instrumental in arranging the construction of the memorial at Parit Sulong and has written several books on the Malayan campaign.

A very moving and equally emotional time for all of us. I felt privileged to deliver the Ode.

I felt very close to my dad this day.

A long drive back to Singapore, arriving after 6.30pm. Most of us just grabbed a snack and hit the sack, totally drained.

John and I lay awake and spoke for what seemed hours. This was to be one of many quite talks John & I shared.

SENTOSA ISLAND – WED DAY 5

A free morning as we prepared to hop on the coach for a journey to Sentosa Island.

As usual, Lawrence cheerfully greeted us and is quickly becoming part of our group – not just a tour guide. We laugh and joke all the way, with Lawrence now imitating “Big Arnie” with “I’ll be back!”

Sentosa Island can be reached by bridge or by cable car.

We all went by cable car and me being now the larrikin that I am, dove into the first car with Lawrence, Ed Burton and Colin & Marion Stiles.

I think Marion got a bit nervous when I started squirming around in the seat trying to get video footage of all the sights. The car began rocking ever so slightly and it is the first time I saw Marion looking apprehensive. I think she was very relieved to finally arrive on the Island.

Another great day going through the museum and buying some souvenirs.

As usual, Lawrence was a star and made sure we got front row seats for the dolphin display.

An entertaining event, probably more for the kids but I include myself in that category!!

The night concluded with amazing light and pyrotechnics display but preceded by an impromptu rock & roll demo by Doug & Elisabeth, Marg Hogan and even Lawrence.

What a great bunch!!

Back to the Rendezvous and more long chats with “JL” (see nicknames).

A regrettable farewell to Ed and some others who had to return to Australia, and also to our new best pal – Lawrence who we have invited to attend the 2/29 reunion next year – the rest of us soldiered on to Bangkok.

BANGKOK – THURSDAY DAY 6

I’m getting a bit blasé by now with all this international travel.

Arrived in Bangkok at 1540 hrs Bangkok local time. Still oppressively hot and humid.

First impressions – dirty, chaotic and smelly.

Met our guide – Jack.

Jack very officially ushered us all onto our coach for the trip to our hotel, the Indra Regent.

I was stunned by the extreme difference between Singapore and Bangkok.

Bangkok with its suspended freeways like a myriad of arteries in the human body crisscrossing the landscape. Such a glaring example of the “haves” and the “have nots”. Dirty stain marked buildings and rubbish everywhere! Some apartments were enclosed with barbwire security fencing – a friendly part of town obviously?

We got stuck in what seemed to be an endless traffic jam virtually all the way to the hotel, but our driver didn’t seem concerned as this is obviously the “norm”.

Jack did well to introduce himself and gave us various “stats” on Bangkok and where to go sightseeing. Also, if you want “something else (like sex) – just see me privately and I will fix for you” (said with a very cheeky grin).

Indra Regent was comfortable, although the first entry to our floor smelt very musty – I hope that is not a sign of things to come or what has come before.

“JL” and I got ourselves sorted and decided to go to the kick boxing. Andrew Brand, Doug and Rob Muir went with us.

Jack kindly arranged a driver which as it turned out was the best and safest idea yet.

Grabbed a quick bite and – you guessed it – had a Macca’s. I’m pleased to report that the Big Mac tasted just the same as in Melb – there’s no doubt about MacDonalds they are the masters of duplication!!

Andrew made it known that he is not a regular visitor to MacDonalds and he had me in stiches investigating and then commenting in his measured way on the contents of his burger.  He looks so much like his dad it is uncanny.

Rajadamnern Stadium –Thai Boxing is an enclosed stadium set in three levels. Ringside, middle section and then there’s the caged back section where most of the Thai sat or should I say jumped, yelled, oohed and arghed.

Betting is rife and we sat transfixed watching some of the obvious “bookies”.

Rob started imitating one of them and I thought for one fearful moment we were going to be taken up on some bets!

What a great night.

To be at such an event with guys I am beginning to know more and more about and becoming closer to each day and to possibly think that again our fathers may have perhaps come to such an event in 1941 as fresh faced arrivals made me pause for a moment.

I reckon by the look of some of the rubbish and the state of the stadium it probably hadn’t been cleaned since 1941 either!!

Saw one contestant knocked down with what was obviously a snapped tendon – I nicknamed him “Onefookedknee!”

RIVER KWAI AND RIVER KWAI VILLAGE RESORT– FRIDAY – DAY 7

An early start for all with again Jack ushering us onto the coach. Jack has warmed slightly to our now growing irreverent humour and I think is starting to get into the swing of things with us.

Once out of the chaos of Bangkok the landscape changed to rolling mountains and lush green paddy fields. Along the way the roads are dotted with thatched hut villages. Motor scooters are the predominate mode of transport with mum, dad and youngsters all hanging on quite casually with seemingly not a care in the world as they motor along.

Arriving at Kanchanaburi War Cemetery was a very sobering moment.

Colin Stiles went and found his father’s headstone. A very emotional and private time for Colin. Again, my thanks to Colin for allowing me to video this moment.

So many 2/29th guys lie here. I tried videoing all the headstones, with the thought that perhaps someone back home might appreciate seeing where their father, uncle or relative lie.

Again, not a blade of grass out of order and (for a change) no litter and everything is kept spotless.

Met and spoke with Rod Beattie, the founder and owner of the Thai Burma museum. Rod & Doug have known each other for several years and I was anxious to learn more from Rod.

Rod’s friendliness and willingness to share what he knows impressed me greatly.

He assisted me in finally working out where my dad ended up at Takanoon and then confirmed his evacuation back to Kanchanaburi and then to Changi.

A momentous day and not over yet!

Lunch on the River Kwai and then a special treat. A high-powered boat ride in a long boat to see a Buddhist temple and explore a cave and then to visit a smaller cemetery at Chungkai.

Rod met us there and I sat transfixed as I listened to his explanations and stories.

A somewhat exhausting day but totally worthwhile.

Many photos taken on the bridge on the River Kwai and more insight from Rod on the REAL river Kwai story (Alec Guinness eat your heart out!).

Time was against us, but Rod promised to meet us again – I couldn’t get enough of this guy. What a walking encyclopaedia!

Onto the coach for our short drive to the River Kwai Resort.

As we approach the resort, we get a tip from Jack that if we want “provisions” we should buy them at the last 7 Eleven store as there are no shops where we are going.

I think we all fell in here as the 7 Eleven store owner must have rubbed his hands with glee as this coach load of Aussies descended on his store and virtually stripped it of every bottle of alcohol he had in the fridge!  Many bought “nibbles” from some of the local market stalls, although I doubted from what source these “nibbles” came from. Some looked very suspect – but – what the hell!

We reckoned Jack has shares in this 7 Eleven!!

Even at night the humidity is around 90%.

JL and I settled in and quickly worked out how the air con worked – priority one!

Another quite moment for JL and I.

Beer in hand sitting in our shorts looking out on the river Kwai and philosophising on what might have been if Percival had stuck to his gut feeling and not surrendered. What if we had had air and naval support? What was the maximum range of our guns – why couldn’t they bring more fire to bear? Who decided not to include shrapnel rounds in the Johore guns – could that have made a difference?

What if in the first instance America had not imposed trade embargos on Japan? Japan may have ended up an ally against Germany – could that have ever been a possibility?

You can’t change history – there it is.

HINTOK STATION TO HELLFIRE PASS - SATURDAY DAY 8

If we only came for this day – I would have been happy.

I could hardly sit still in the coach – “are we there yet?”

Due to health reasons, Geoff Hearn could not make this journey, but I think everyone else elected to have a go.

I can’t describe in great detail what this trek was like – suffice to say for me this will be one of the most memorable moments of my life.

No wind, humidity 90%, and the sun filtering through the lush growth above our heads. Deathly silence, only the crunching of our feet on the railway breaks the air.

Most of my video footage is taken as I walk along trying desperately to not only provide some commentary but also take in what I am experiencing myself.

Rob and I find a bridge spike used to hold the wooden bridge beams together. I scrapped some stones into a bottle to keep (naughty me).

Commencing the trek along the railway. Taken at Hintok Station, September 2007.

In the middle of Hellfire Pass

After what seems like an eternity, we enter Hellfire Pass

Several other tourists are coming the other way but don’t seem as committed or truly interested as we are. I guess for them it is just another place they can talk about over a few drinks with their friends – just to say they have been there – done that!

I enter Hellfire Pass – still no wind and high humidity. I venture about ¾ the way and begin running my hand along the cutting. Everyone has gone up ahead and I am alone.

I touched what is a broken drill spike that was used to drill blast holes into the rock face.

I am not imagining this but suddenly a cold breeze blew past me - just for a second. No one else felt this breeze. When I walked out of the Pass, I asked Loris who was just in front of me by this stage if she had felt it and she said “no”. The humidity hit me again and I looked up into the foliage – not a breath of wind.

Draw your own conclusions.

On reaching the end of the Pass we were met by Geoff Hearn who, to his credit had ventured down the very steep steps from the Australian museum. He desperately wanted to walk the Pass, so Doug in an unselfish act of kindness escorted Geoff all the way back through the Pass. This is after he had carried his own pack plus someone else’s pack all the way and then probably covered the entire distance twice ensuring everyone was ok along the way.

I take my hat off to Doug but also to Geoff – a gutsy effort mate!!

A further sobering time was spent ambling through the museum at the end of Hellfire Pass.

A group photo at the museum and then on the coach to lunch at Home Phu Toey Resort.

Lunch was interesting (at least for me). I have to confess I was struggling with some of the “delicacies” and stayed with the fried rice and what I hoped was some sort of pork dish.

Janella Christie amazed me with her knowledge of the “local delicacies” and I bravely tried some local fish laced with what tasted like rocket fuel mixed with battery acid! Man, it was HOTTT!!!

A quick stroll into the village marketplace which was busy enough but litter everywhere and mangy dogs eyed me off menacingly. I decided retreat was the best course of action and made for the safety of the coach. (Bought a sealed plastic container for my stones – 100 Bhat – discounted down from 150 – wow!).

Coach ride to next stop – the Weary Dunlop Museum and the Jack Chalker Galley. By this stage I’m a bit “weary” myself and probably did not give this visit the due credit it deserved.

Very graphic drawings and photos which only reinforced what cruelty and inhumanity was inflicted to not only allied troops but civilians as well at the hands of the Japs.

Tragically as we know many escaped the punishment they should have received at the end of the war. Most would probably be dead now anyway, but I truly hope they are brought to account in some form of afterlife.

THREE PAGODA PASS – SUNDAY – DAY 9

Early start again and off to Three Pagoda Pass.

We meet up with Rod Beattie again and he constantly confounds me on his depth of knowledge.

We stop along the way at Takanoon or as close as we can get, and with Rod’s help we locate the site where Colin Stiles father finally died.

Another emotional ceremony between us – Marg Hogan played a haunting rendition of the Battalion song on her flute.

A moments reflection and then with plenty of supporters, Colin & Marion lead the way back to the coach.

Torrential rain began and we arrived at Three Pagoda Pass amid flooded roads and a river of red water gushing down into the village. The inhabitants didn’t seem to care and casually swept the water away and kept on trading their wares!

The Three Pagodas to quote the first comment from Marion Stiles – “is that all there is?”

Three whitewashed pagodas about 10’ high located in the centre of the village, and were erected to commemorate the victory by the Thai people over the French in the early 1900’s.

The significance for us as Family of the 2/29th was that our fathers slaved away building the railway and cutting through hills to get this far. It also represents the northern most point in Amphoe Sanghla Buri and is right on the boarder between Thailand and Burma (now Myanmar).

Many allied prisoners (and civilians) had died building this bloody railway by this time and more were to follow.

With Rod still sharing his vast knowledge we headed for Cholera Hill.

Deciding to stop and walk it we all proceeded through the mud to then stand exactly where George Aspinall took his photo of Cholera Hill that is contained in his book Changi Photographer.

With Rod’s help I stood exactly in the same spot and took a series of my own photos – I hope George won’t mind.

We then walked the ground pausing all the time to view what were old graves and to listen further from Rod on the terrible plight of the cholera sufferers.

What suffering and misery must have gone on here? It is hard now to imagine in such peaceful and lush surroundings.

Much time was spent just walking around – taking photos, touching the ground, closing eyes and trying to visualise what it must have been like.

Again, time was against us so back on the coach.

A journey to Kami Sonkurai brought a halt to our journey.

I had been so preoccupied with my own thoughts I had forgotten what this place meant to Doug.

This is where his father succumbed to cholera.

I kicked myself – someone should have led the service – why didn’t I think of that?

Doug bravely recounted what happened to his father, Marg played another rendition of the Bn song and John Lack said the Ode.

A brief stop but plenty of hugs and supporting words to Doug. I couldn’t speak – so I just gave him a “larrikin” hug.

I felt that this brief moment had cemented our bonds together – we truly became the Family of the 2/29th!

SAI YOK WATERFALL/ELEPHANT RIDE AND WAMPO STATION – MONDAY DAY 10

All aboard after breakfast and off first to the see the Sai Yok Waterfall.

Spent a pleasant morning with the remaining group now down to 17 with further departures.

Our spirits still high and much laughter going on.

Highlight for me was the ride on an elephant.

JL and I decided to be the “trail blazers” and took off duly mounted on this elephant. What a laugh! JL got a bit nervous as the elephant lurched down hill and feared he would slide off.

The crowning moment was to look across at John, the consummate history professor, perched on the back of this elephant wearing a crown of green leaves fashioned by our elephant handler!! A picture tells a thousand words – and I took plenty!!

Next off to Wampo station and to view the Wampo cutting. From here we were to catch the train back to Kanchanaburi and then coach back to Bangkok.

Lunch was ok – again I’m still wrestling with some of the “delicacies” and thought it best to stick to the good old fried rice and what I hoped were pork or chicken dishes.

It was here that Wayne & I devised a “plot” to present Doug & Lis with something to remember us all by.

I had, since we arrived in Singapore envied the Pith helmet worn by the door man at the Rendezvous Hotel.

Fruitless attempts were made by Wayne & me to buy them in Singapore and we had almost given up hope.

Strolling through the myriad of small market stalls at Wampo station, there large as life were 7 green pith helmets! Not enough, as we wanted one each plus one for those that had returned to Aust and also one for Bob Christie the Association secretary and Frank Nankervis the Association president.

I enlisted Jack to negotiate a deal for us, and at the end of considerable babbling and hand gesturing, a price was struck – and 7 pith helmets were ours!

Problem now was where to find a further 23? Again, Jack came to the party. He obviously continued negotiating with these people who must have thought all their Christmases had come at once!

Just before we were to hop on the train a series of frantic calls were made to some “warehouse” – heavens know where, but within 20 minutes 23 pith helmets duly arrived!!

Talk about a well laid deception plan. We had to distract Doug & Lis long enough to smuggle 30 odd pith helmets onto the coach without being seen. Ever wondered how to pack 30 pith helmets? It’s a bloody big box!!!

Safely on the coach, Wayne & I swapped a smug smile as he hopped aboard for the train trip. Everyone in the group were ecstatic and readily chipped in to cover the cost.

Again, there were no hesitations from anyone – we are family together.

The Wampo train appeared to be built somewhere between the Chinese Ming Dynasty and the early 1900’s. The carriages were very old and rusty and the diesel loco (least I think that’s what it was) certainly would not meet any rail operator standards!

Nevertheless, we hopped aboard amid lots of laughter and jokes about “rail worthiness” and scrambling for a window seat.

The train rumbled off and across the Wampo Cutting – lots of photos and video footage.

Once across the cutting the train picked up speed.

I don’t know what the driver put in the tank, but the speed of the train was only limited by the capacity of the track. Hanging out of the open window at no small peril to my good self I got some great footage of the train as it snaked around the bends and brushed past overhanging bamboo scattered along the railway.

What a great trip.

The scenery was spectacular, and we whisked past myriads of tiny thatched villages, only stopping briefly at the odd station

Enormous mountain ranges in the distance, carpeted with rolling lush paddy fields and pastureland.

At one point in the distance I could see Elephant mountain so named by Weary Dunlop as he sat where Doug & I had sat on the railway only days before.  I reflected on how extremely fortunate we all were, and what price had been paid by so many others before us.

Wayne Pickering alerted me to the banging and crashing of the carriage behind us, and a closer inspection revealed the carriage appeared to be leaping off the tracks!!

In order to even walk the few steps to this rear carriage, one had to act like a shock absorber.

I decided that this should be made into a dance which I aptly named the “Wampo Waltz”.

I believe my demonstration of the basic steps will be shown on TV as the next dance craze – ho ho ho!!!

Eventually reaching Kanchanaburi, we made straight for Rod Beattie. A final session with Rod and an emotional farewell between Doug & Rod, with warm handshakes all round, saw us back on our coach and heading back to Bangkok.

Rod also generously gave us each a rail spike which I will treasure forever and will mount with the sliver of a railway sleeper I gathered from the railway.

CLOSING DAYS – TUESDAY – WED - DAYS 11 & 12

Determined to at least get some decent shopping in, I joined the “girls” – Janella Christie, Marg Hogan, Karen Trevaskis, Brenda Hodge, Loris Fletcher & Bev Smith for one last shopping expedition.

Thankfully, Janella was very experienced on where to shop and how to get there and it was decided to go to MDK Department store which on the map appeared only around the block. It shouldn’t take long to walk – WRONG!!!

It was decided (or it was decided for us by one of the taxi rank attendants – if you can call them that) to go by Took Took. We piled into three that miraculously appeared and set ourselves in for the trip.

Big mistake. We got no further than the street corner and “all stop!!”

Janella is arguing with the driver. Turns out these guys tell Janella MDK is not open until 11.30am and they will gladly take us “somewhere else”. Boy – can Janella fire up!!

“All out – these guys are thugs”, Janella orders.

Two taxis also miraculously appear and off we go!

Shopping at MDK was terrific, and Janella is the best negotiator ever. I learnt quickly that the international language is the calculator, and soon mastered the art of keying in what I wanted to pay and then barter from there.

Bought heaps of gifts. So much so that Bev and I had to buy another case each – still great fun. If Rosalie could have only seen me then – out shopping with 6 girls and then doing my usual bit by standing guard over their bags whilst they went “girly” shopping.

Interesting sights were everywhere and at every turn not least of which were 3 transvestites! Ever seen a 6’” girl” in a mini skirt shopping for shoes – it’s a sight I’ll not forget soon. Should have taken a picture but I was too preoccupied with “where do they hide it?”  Even Bev was a bit confounded and we had some very interesting discussions on what methods may have been used.

Lunch in the mall saw Andrew & Melanie wander in and we recall our shopping ventures and our transvestites’ story. I’m not sure Andrew was all that impressed – but listened with an amused smile.

By 3.30pm we were shopped out so decided to grab some cabs and head back to the hotel.

Walking outside we were besieged with more Took Tooks but learning from the last experience we grabbed a cab.

Me in the front, Marg, Karen and Loris in the back, totally swamped with bags and of course my new case – now full of gifts.

Just about to take off and a policeman on a motor bike screeches up and orders us out!!!

Turns out the driver picked us up illegally and even an obvious bribe wouldn’t sway him (he still took the bribe from the driver though!).

Drama over, we climbed into two other taxis, also miraculously appearing, and returned to the hotel without further incident (“150 Bhat thanks – no meter – ok?”)

Our final dinner was on the 48th floor of a neighbouring hotel. Jack had done a great job organising this and the dinner was excellent.

I hope we pleasantly surprised Doug & Lis with their own Pith helmets but when Wayne issued out one for each, the laughs really started.

Several speeches from Andrew and JL and I desperately wanted to tell Doug what this trip had meant to me, but I just couldn’t summon the words.

What a great night and one I will never forget.

Wednesday – day 12 – last day was spent with last minute frantic packing and stuffing our now overloaded cases.

Some tense moments at the check in at Bangkok airport for fear of weight excesses (not yours truly – but the luggage!).

Colin may have solved the problem by sweet talking the check in girls on who we were and what we had done. I am sure they took pity on us and let us all through with no problems.

It seemed a very quiet journey home (probably because we flew through the night) but landing in Melbourne at 6.00am Thursday finally brought the trip to a close.

One anxious moment for me at customs as my case with the railway spike attracted attention. I wearily pointed to my polo shirt with the 2/29 emblem and briefly told the nice customs man where we had been and what we had done. Moments pause – and then “off you go mate”.

Well, that’s not the end of my little story.

I tried to recall some of the more humorous moments, along with those poignant moments that so often can be forgotten.

I also compiled my own nicknames list just like dad did in his diary – so here they are:

Nicknames:

Doug Ogden             –                      Raj of Singapore

Elisabeth Ogden      -                       Rajess of Singapore

Colin & Marion Stiles           -           The honeymooners.

John Lack                  -                       JL, Profelactus, Prof

Andrew Brand                      -           AB

Melanie Brand                      -           Mel.

Marg Hogan, Janella Christie, Bev Smith,  Karen Trevaskis, Brenda Hodge & Loris Fletcher                -                       The girls.

Rob Muir                    -                       Wiff, Scuba

Wayne Pickering      -                       Pickles.

Geoff Hearn              -   Hobby (Geoff’s father was the founder of Hearn’s Hobbies in Melbourne)

Some humorous moments

“Thanks for sleeping with me Jack” - Departure of Ed Burton from

Singapore to Jack Baker (they were bunk buddies).

“I wondered what it was like to get into Mel’s knickers” – Mel’s laundry incorrectly delivered to my room.

Any time with Marion Styles.

Joke from Colin Stiles on Bob Hawke & Paul Keating – “But it’s Hazel’s handwriting” (you had to be there to appreciate this joke)

Brenda Hodge – the elephant park – a 10’ unassisted standing jump when Brenda thought an elephant was getting too amorous (turned out to be the elephant attendant playing a trick on her)

“I’ll be back” – famous last words from Lawrence our Singapore guide.

Some poignant moments

Locating where my father might have been in Chinatown with Andrew Brand

Kranji War Cemetery – the whole experience.

The first impromptu rendition of “Sussex by the Sea” by Marg Hogan on the coach.

My own experience with the cold breeze at Hellfire Pass.

Our private service at the abandoned villa.

Watching the sun rise over the River Kwai with John one morning.

Last post at Changi Museum.

Lighting a candle for my dad at the Changi Chapel.

Well, this is the final chapter in my story – it is not the end but simply the end of the beginning.

We will always now be “The Family of the 2/29th”.

“LEST WE FORGET”

My ‘extended family’. Descendants of the 2/29th Battalion at the appropriately named Rendezvous Hotel, Singapore

POSTSCRIPT

At the risk of this book becoming a constant “work in progress” I should finally have some closure.

As I have said previously, there is no real end, but perhaps some “wrapping up” might be in order.

I was afforded the unique opportunity in September 2007 to join with 30 or so sons, daughters and relatives of the 2/29th to attend a commemorative service at Parit Sulong Thailand.

The service commemorated the horrific massacre of over 140 allied prisoners by the Japanese in 1942.

In addition, we visited the major war cemeteries at Kranji, Kanchanaburi and Chungkai, and of course walked a section of the Burma/Thailand railway.

During the trip I kept my own diary. This is my day-to-day recollection of this most momentous journey.

75th Anniversary of the "Tavoy" Melbourne Cup Pilgrimage: 28th October - 12th November 2017

A group of 2/29th Battalion Association members set out on a journey enthused by Doug Ogden and Kerry Barker and motivated by ‘The Exceptional Melbourne Cup’ written by Charles Lewis. The aim was to commemorate the running of the Tavoy Melbourne Cup that was run and organized by members of the 2/29th Battalion as POW’s, 75 years ago.

The group flew out from Melbourne to Yangon on a warm and barmy evening full of excitement and enthusiasm. The trip did not disappoint! On the journey were Doug & Lis Ogden, Ron & Simon Lovett, Gary Simmons, Loris Fletcher, Robert Muir, Doris & Kerry Barker, Colin & Marion Stiles and Joy & Anthony Derham.

On arrival in Yangon we were met by our Guide, Min Saw Lin who shared his knowledge willingly on all levels, also we met our very competent bus driver “Fatty” and bus boy “Tun Tun”. From Yangon we travelled to follow the route of the railway from Moulimein, where we found the old railway station and derelict railway trucks that had transported our men. Journeying onto Ye we found many sites that were part of the war time history.

Continuing to the Thanbyuzayat Allied War Memorial Cemetery we were met by Thet Mon, who is in charge of the War Graves in Burma. Thet is a wonderful man and he and his staff provided us with refreshments at the beautifully maintained cemetery. At the Thanbyuzayat Museum Joy Derham presented The Battalion History and another book on the Tavoy Cup by Charles Lewis. It was particularly touching as Gary presented his father's original battalion plaque to the museum manager. This plaque will be displayed in the entry to the museum. This was very moving experience as we reflected on the numerous number of young lives lost and we were able to share a special moment with Doug & Lis Ogden as this is the resting place of Doug’s father, Pte. J. D. W. Odgen who died at the Sonkurai hospital.  Marion & Colin Stiles also located a cousin of Marion’s, Pte. R.E. Parons, and were able to pay their respects, along with Joy finding the headstone of Pte. A. L. Sexton, for a friend.

Gary Simmons:

Thanbyuzayat We arrive at The Death Railway Museum. I’m a bit on edge as I have brought my dad’s Battalion plaque that he gave to me in 1971 which I have offered to the museum. This plaque had been with me for over 46 years, but I figured it was time it found a new home, and so, I presented it to the manager of the museum. I was very proud to learn that the plaque will take pride of place at the entrance to the museum. I am sure dad would be smiling down on me as I handed it over.

A photo of us all at the railway head and then what became a haunting trek into the jungle where I found abandoned railway carriages that were obviously used to transport the POW’s.

Now rusting and deteriorating they sit like steel ghosts still on the rail tracks where they finally came to a grinding halt back in 1945.

I walked on my own – touching the carriages, trying to feel the pain and anguish our men must have endured. Impossible to experience their depravation and suffering – the tears started until Doug came by and we walked back together in silence.

Tavoy (by Doug)

Arriving in Tavoy on November 2nd in readiness for the re-enactment of the Cup the next day. We visited the sites where the camps were and all places relevant to our trip. We locked in the Karen School that we believed was the venue for the original Cup.

Kerry and I had a grand plan that required the help of the local school children. Because it was at the time of the Full Moon Festival children were not readily available so an alternate plan was hatched for the race if we could not get children to help. Between our guide, Min and Kerry our preferred plan came to fruition. This wasn't confirmed till quite late on the 2nd. We arrived at the school to be greeted by the children who were represent each of us. Some teachers were also present.

A couple of days prior to the race Gary Simmons and I got together to name and define the breeding for each horse representing the thirteen trip participants. Attendees were Colin and Marion Stiles, Joy and Anthony Derham, Kerry Barker and her mum Doris Barker, Gary Simmons, Doug and Elisabeth Ogden, Rob Muir and his sister Loris Fletcher, Ron Lovett and his son Simon.

These were the owners and the horses

OWNER - HORSE NAME - BY - OUT OF

GAZZA - THE LARRIKIN - THE JAILER - PROBATION

From the outset it was thought Gary was a danger to the group and himself in as much as we thought he could possibly be arrested for non observance of local protocol. A lucky escape.

LIS - LIMBURGER - SMELLY CHEESE - TULIP

Elisabeth a fine filly of Dutch heritage from Limburg. Limburg is as famous for its odious cheese in Europe as the durian is famous for its toxic, equally putrid, smell in Asia

DOUG - EX RAJ - EXULTED ONE - SUCKER

A fine leader who, although he gave his best was deposed by Kerry at the earliest opportunity. He was totally oblivious to the impending coup. After two days he mustered support and regained his rightful position.

RON - CAPTAIN’S SON - ROTA CUP - ARMLESS

Son of Capt Lovett. This horse was incapacitated. A severe shoulder injury put one arm in a sling and did render him armless. The stewards and veterinary team checked the horse as it was known pain killers were used to mask his symptoms. Competed under the influence of drugs. Action possible.

KERRY - MANDALAY LADY - VOLUNTEER - GOODWILL

Put's herself out as a compassionate volunteer but was poised like a cobra when the Raj showed weakness. She struck the poor fellow when his guard was down. He eventually regained his Rajhood.

DORIS - CHERRY BLOSSUM - THE PACKER - THE PIP

Kerry's mum. Less ruthless but still manages a family empire making packaging for the stone fruit industry in Victoria. A very quiet achiever.

ANTHONY - RUMP STEAK - SIR ANGUS - MEDIUM RARE

Wealthy cattle magnate, being watched carefully for takeover by Gina Reinhart. This horse appears quiet but can lash out without warning.

JOY - HORNY BEEF - BULLS ROAR - COWS ARSE

This lady is the brains behind the wealthy cattle magnate. Exerts fierce control over the purse strings. According to some has her bank manager totally under her control.

COLIN - CRASH & BURN - EXPLOSION - IMPACT

Ex RAAF Ace. Continues to do sorties in the retirement village with paper napkins. Was never in a combat situation but can relate his daring exploits against The Red Baron. Fragile, needs handling with care.

MARION - GERRY ATRIC - DIMENTIA - NAPPIES

Affectionately known as the Queen in the retirement Village. Loved by the old blokes, feared by the old girls. Mostly she has forgotten which is which.

SIMON - COOL BREEZE - 9 MIL GLOCK - SHOTGUN

Dirty Harry tendencies. Has teeth removed without anesthetic. Security expert. Most famous apprehension was three Myer fashion mannequins for being in store after closing.

LORIS - BOOK WORM - THE AUTHOR - THE LIBRARY

A devoted teacher and librarian, quiet but has true wisdom. However they say to watch the quiet ones. Chasing history as father won the original event. 

ROB - SCUBA - THE SHARK - CORAL SEA

Spends more time under water than on terra firma. Could be growing fins. Advised by one fellow traveller to be careful he didn't finish up as shark droppings. The actual word was not droppings but a far more meaningful expression.

The scene at the school was set. Just before the 3.40PM I announced that I was President of the Tavoy Racing Club and that I expected a fair and honest race. I introduced my Chief Steward, Gary Simmons, who was overseeing the race and was casting his eagle eye for any irregularities or improprieties. Gary read the field, stating owner, horse and breeding.

The spectators moved to the finish line about seventy five metres away. Elisabeth had her camera ready in case of a photo finish. The children were given a piece of paper with an owner's name on it. They lined up at the barrier rearing to go. Rob Muir tried to control the field as the official starter. Then, at the precise time, they were off. In a few seconds we had replicated The Tavoy Melbourne Cup seventy five years on. There was a lot of excitement as the horses returned to scale. The winning horse gave me his piece of paper with a name on it. The winner Book Worm owned by Loris Fletcher, daughter of Wif Muir. History was repeating itself.

The photo finish showed a close second. Cherry Blossom owned by Doris Barker scraped home. Cups were presented to the to both Loris and Doris.

All participating children were each given three books from Australia and, although maybe a little confused by the mad Aussies, were very pleased with their gifts. A few books were left over and they went to the school library. Gary had also brought books and pencils for the school, courtesy of the Battalion Association.

After the race we went to a large assembly hall inside the school. A table was set up and chairs for an audience. The teachers and children attended our commemorative service. We had flowers on the table and Ron and Simon presented a moving tribute to their father and grandfather. Reading from Capt. Lovett's diary and generally reflecting on his service at Tavoy.

Loris and Rob Muir presented the history of the original cup with newspaper articles, original bookmakers sheets the full list of owners, horses, riders and jockeys also from 1942 were on display. The original Cup won by their dad was also proudly prominent on the table.

We concluded the proceedings expressing our thanks to our men who had served, not only in Tavoy, but in all theatres of conflict. We closed with the Ode and the Last Post.

We went away, happy, sad and happy again. This type of experience does that to you.

The following part of the journey was basically sightseeing, travelling to Bagan visiting the Shwezigone Pagoda built in the early 11th century, Anada Temple a white washed masterpiece in architecture and the Sulamuni Temple. We also visited one of Myanmar’s most treasured handicrafts, a lacquer ware home industry and enjoyed a beautiful sunset from the Shwesandaw Pagoda.

Gary Simmons

ALL ABOARD!

The river boat RV 1947 Paulkin awaited our embarkation at Bagan for our two-day cruise to Mandalay.

We arrived at an open beach type area, with no jetty or boarding platforms, other than a rickety boarding ramp. Having said that, we were warmly welcomed by the captain and his officers, together with the stewards who were very obliging and insisted on taking our cases to our cabins, even though we didn’t know which cabins we were in!

Cabins very comfortable and Simon Lovett and I were soon educating our drinks steward who liked to be called “ James – Bond 007” on how to make iced rum sours – yum yum!

Have to say this – whilst on board we listened to the running of the actual Melbourne Cup, as Ron Lovett had organized our own cup sweep. Guess who not only got the first placed horse but also the second placed horse – yes – incredibly yours truly who has never won a horse race in his life! So – drinks were on me which lasted one night but still great fun.

Along the way, we stopped and visited a river village and school. Whilst these people live a very rudimentary and simple life, it is very clear they are extremely happy. Main industry is clay pot making and everyone from child to elder contribute.  Makes you think twice about your own day to day worries and that life is not all that bad as it may seem from time to time.

One thing I couldn’t come at was chewing the beetle nut.

It is a nut wrapped in lime then rolled in a soft leaf and popped into the mouth and chewed. The affect is an instant “high”, but turns one’s teeth, gums and lips a dark pigment red. A bit off putting when you smile!

BACK TO YANGON.

Greeting us at Yangon were the smiling faces of Min, Fatty and Tun Tun, both wearing their 2/29 Battalion caps – quite a moment with very warm hugs & handshakes all round.

Back to the Clover City Hotel where our journey began. At least this time, I’m pleased to report no leaking ceilings!

Up early for the big day to the War Cemetery in Yangon for the Remembrance Day ceremony hosted by the British Ambassador His Excellency Mr Andrew Patrick. Humidity just stifling and seeing the high ranking senior military officers in their full-dress uniforms brought back many personal memories for me during my military service.

A poignant moment for us in that Kerrie and Doris laid our 2/29th Battalion wreath at the cemetery cenotaph.

With the service over, we then relocated to a church service at the Holy Trinity Cathedral for the unveiling of a commemorative plaque in honor of Maj Hugh Seagrim GC,DSO,MBE who was a British officer and led the Karen guerilla fighters in harassing battles with the Japanese.

Maj Seagrim was loosely part of the Chindits guerilla fighters commanded by Gen Ord Wingate.

Without going into too much detail as you can research Maj Seagrim on line, but he eventually offered himself up to the Japanese in return for their promise not to carry out any reprisals against his beloved Karen fighters.

Maj Seagrim was eventually executed by firing squad after a sham trial by the Japanese, who then proceeded to systematically hunt down and execute the Karen fighters.

A final letter written by Maj Seagrim to his brother was read out by his nephew and gave us a personal insight into this man and his indominable courage as well as a wicked sense of humor.

“TEA OLD CHAP”?

On leaving the service, we all then adjourned to the British Embassy for lunch and a few drinks.

All very prim and proper as we were graciously greeted by the British Ambassador into the coolness of the entrance foyer within the Embassy building. The entire building echoed the lost grand days of British rule in Burma and reminded me of something out of Gen Kitchener days (coincidentally there was a statue of Gen Kitchener in the front grounds).

Simon Lovett and I delicately balanced our plates on our laps as we sank into this huge couch and enjoyed the iced cold beers and the extensive buffet lunch on offer.

Min had also joined us in the Embassy which I am sure was a defining moment for him as he admitted he had never been at the Embassy before, so it was terrific to have him along with us.

Time did fly, and we were soon back on the bus with Fatty and Tun Tun and off to see one of our last sightseeing visits, the Chauk Htat Gyi Pagoda. Within the pagoda is the largest reclining buddha built in 1966. The statue occupies the entire length and almost the width of this pagoda. To photograph it, you needed to climb up onto a stage area which looked across the buddha.

Again, I just wandered around totally gob smacked at the enormity of it all, and of course in bare feet (and wearing my longy for the last time.)

GOOD BYE MYANMAR, MIN, FATTY AND TUN TUN

We were strangely quite during the bus drive to Yangon airport for our departure back to “OZ”.

A stop off on the way to drop off and farewell Kerrie and Min. A final handshake & hug and we were on our way again.

What a wonderful guy is Min, with so much knowledge and went above and beyond the call to make sure every moment we were together was a joyful and also a great learning experience.

Bags quickly unloaded at the airport and hasty good byes to Fatty & Tun Tun. Couldn’t resist giving fatty a big “guy hug” and wished him all the best – “Mingalar Ba Fatty” – “Blessings to you”

After several hours, we boarded our flight to Bangkok, then transition to our flight back to Melbourne.

Fairly uneventful flight back but the landing got our attention – bone shattering!! Not sure what the pilot was trying to do but I hope he was prepared to pay for a new set of tires!

Well, that is the conclusion of my adventure.

Again, I just want to thank Doug Ogden most sincerely for getting all this organized and just being there for a hug and a shoulder to cry on when needed.

To Kerrie – what can we say. The preliminary work Kerrie did leading up to our trip was just extraordinary. Her local knowledge and great sense of humor just made this trip something none of us will ever forget.

I cannot end without two quotes:

From Ron Lovett during his speech – “We have laughed till we cried – then cried till we laughed again”

From the irrepressible Marion Stiles on fare welling Rob (“Suba”) Muir who left a day earlier to venture off scuba diving – hey Rob be careful and don’t end up shark s **t!

Gary Simmons aka “Kung foo panda” and “The Larrikin”

“Nulli Secundus”

The Point of Pilgrimage

Click here to read Heather's article.

This article was written by Heather McRae, daughter of Corporal Donald F. McRae VX27725, HQ Company, 2/29th Battalion.

Donald enlisted on 1 July 1940 and was transferred to the 2/29th Battalion at Bonegilla, Victoria, on 29 November. He embarked with the battalion for Singapore in July 1941.

He fought in the Battle of Muar in January 1942, finally making his way to safety afterwards in a small party of eight men. He became a prisoner of war following the fall of Singapore on 15 February.

He laboured in working parties in Singapore, and in May 1943 was one of a group of prisoners from various Allied units – including 300 Australians, 600 British and some Americans – who were shipped to Japan, known as ‘J’ Force.

Donald was based at Kobe, where men were sent out to work in factories, railway yards and warehouses, and on the docks. In May 1945, he was in a party sent to Notogawa near Lake Biwa, working on land reclamation – he was there when the war ended.

He returned to Australia on the Aircraft Carrier HMS Formidable in October 1945. Don married my mother Beth in January 1960.

I was inspired to write this piece following a pilgrimage to Parit Sulong with descendants and relatives of 2/29th soldiers, organised by Doug Ogden in September 2007.

My article first appeared in issue one of Circa: The Journal of Professional Historians, published by the Professional Historians Association (Vic) Inc. in 2010.

I would like to acknowledge Katherine Sheedy and the Editorial Board for their cooperation in relation to making the article available online. Thank you also to Colin Stiles for his support.

Heather McRae

Marg Hogan's Story

Most of us during the course of our lives have times that stand out above all others, 2007 was such a year for me.

Having turned 60 earlier in the year, it was quite a shock to some months later be diagnosed with bowel cancer. I arrived home from hospital to find the 2/29th letter outlining the Malaysian trip, to attend the dedication for the Parit Sulong Memorial and further days traveling sections of the Thai Burma railway. 

I rang Doug Ogden immediately and set about getting fit for the trip.

My father Sgt. Vic Wedlick, awarded the D.C.M. at the Battle of Muar passed away in 1981 aged 65, of Motor Neurone Disease. This neurological disorder was thought to have resulted from severe vitamin deficiency, deprivation and hardship whilst a prisoner on the Thai Burma railway.

Sgt. Vic Wedlick

To explain the enormous emotional impact of the trip, I need to first reflect on growing up as the child of a Japanese prisoner of war.

There was a large and active group of P.O.W.s in Bendigo, many were 2/29th men. Some of these 2/29th families lived within walking distance of each other. As children we all attended the same school and really seemed more like family than friends. My memories of sharing family celebrations, parties, picnics, cricket matches and reunions often attended by men from all around Australia.

To be in the company of these men was quite an experience, even as a child I loved it when they all got together or visited our home, it was always interesting and lots of fun. Contrary to many people’s belief they never talked of war or their illnesses. The exception to this was usually when supporting each other with claims to Repat.

I know there were many P.O.W.s outside of Dad’s battalion who knew nothing of his military record. In fact I don’t believe he even told my mother very much.

It was only as I got older that I could appreciate what a special and unique group of men they were. Over the years many too have commented on this when meeting a group of them for the first time. The bond they have shared steadfastly all their lives is steely in it strength and loyalty and their capacity to enjoy life quite remarkable.

That many men were sick or disabled didn't faze us kids at all. The outrageous pranks they played on each other, often with their artificial bits with such good grace and humour, has taught me a life lesson, to look at people not disabilities.

One funny story involved regular visitors to our home. Bill or Pineapple as he was nicknamed, had lost both legs above the knee as a result of tropical ulcers. In those days wheelchairs were heavy and unwieldy and Bill being comfortable in our home would get about on his hands swinging his body along, flipping on and off chairs with ease.

We kids were given the job of getting Bill’s bottle in its cloth bag, when nature called. When it was cold or wet, Mum and his wife Jean would fireman lift him from the car to the house, Dad unable to because of his back. On this particular visit Jean wasn't well so they loaded Bill into the wheelbarrow but struck a problem when negotiating the steps, resulting in a head first belly flop by Bill onto the concrete veranda. The laughter was so loud the neighbours came to investigate and they too joined in the hilarity.

Life wasn't easy for my father, suffering major health issues all his life. Even now emotions are still strong when I recall the stress and hardship I felt as an eight year old and the eldest in the family, when Dad was in Melbourne at Heidelberg Repatriation Hospital for many months and we didn't know if he would walk again. Damaging his spine when thrown from a Bren gun carrier at the Muar battle, it had deteriorated so seriously that a bone graft was considered the only solution. In 1955 this was dangerous and radical surgery, no plastic discs then, bone had to be taken from his hip and he lay in a plaster cast for months while it knitted. I well remember the times he was confined to bed in excruciating pain then, back to work when he could walk again. This was both before and after surgery.

I have recently learnt that this procedure was only partially successful, surgery couldn't be completed due to severe bleeding, leaving my father in chronic pain all his life. He came home from hospital with instructions to find light employment. His job, as a butcher, with heavy lifting and standing long hours on hard floors, now out of the question. It was a worrying time for my parents. Fortunately a good neighbour, the manager of a Ford franchise offered him a position in the spare parts office, where he could sit, stand and walk at will. He stayed there until a major coronary in his mid fifties resulted in his retirement.

Some years ago a friend who had worked with Dad, found out that I was his daughter. He and most of the others there had no idea of his war and P.O.W. experiences and he was amazed to learn Dad’s story. He remembered a tall distinguished silver haired man with his pipe and Harris Tweed jacket quietly and conscientiously going about his work.

The constant in Dad’s life though was the Victorian and Bendigo Ex P.O.W. Association and the men of the 2/29th. He was President of the Victorian Association from its inception, until Weary Dunlop took the position in the early 70’s. Wiff Muir and Bill Osborne both 2/29th men were also on the Victorian Executive

I witnessed those early days of frustration and disappointment with the Repatriation Department, often a meal time discussion between my parents.

He along with other men worked tirelessly assisting men with pension claims and reviews. So different now! Ex P.O.W.s and their widows have an incredible range of support, including automatic Gold cards, and deservedly so.

In 1981 there were some improvements from those earlier days. The assistance and aids provided, enabled Dad to stay comfortably at home until a couple of weeks before his death. His T.P.I. classification took some time, he was completely paralysed and had weeks to live before it came through. He was so relieved, because it made things so much easier for my mother having a War Widows pension.

There were occasions that we children were sheltered from, when strange people would come to the door, or the police would call. Some men were psychologically damaged, unable to settle and became alcoholics. They would have periods of drifting and my father along with many others kept watch over these people, finding accommodation, medical assistance, putting them on trains, then ringing someone to pick them up at the next destination. I commented once on a man who was often drunk. My father told me, as an 18 year old this man had offered to stay behind, alone in the jungle to nurse men dying with cholera when the camp moved on. These acts of kindness were never forgotten. Conversely, I remember another occasion when at a school function a man came up to my father and spoke to him. Behaviour totally out of character for him, Dad turned away as though the man didn't exist. Later with no explanation, he told my mother we were never to have anything to do with this family, ever! Recently I related this incident to a 2/29th man, mentioned the name, again no explanation, just the comment, “that would be right!”

One thing we couldn't be protected from was death. Old men died, not men in the prime of their life, with young families. Many familiar faces became absent from our home. As a child it was quite frightening, I understood that some men were very sick, but there were others like my father who outwardly gave the impression of being okay. This wasn't so, those years of deprivation took their toll. Sudden deaths were not uncommon due to hearts damaged by berri berri.

Then one day one of Dad’s closest friends Ron King, dropped dead leaving four young children. These children were our playmates, we loved their Dad too. It was such a shock and I worried would this happen to my Dad.

Some years later, when I was a teenager Ron’s brother inlaw and Dad’s best mate, Bill Osborne, shot himself. Bill didn't have drive so Dad would pick him up from work, they went every where together, the footy, the pub, shared manure for their gardens and regularly checked out each others vegie patches. They were inseparable! Dad had been increasingly worried about Bill, he’d stopped seeing his friends. Then one day he rang Dad asking to meet him, Dad came home so relieved and said, “I think Bill’s turned the corner.”

A couple of days later we heard the ambulance and just knew which house it would stop at.

It was devastating for his family, for us all. Sadly, after his death he was diagnosed with war neurosis, now termed post traumatic stress disorder, much too late for him his wife and 5 children, though it did enable his wife to receive the War Widows pension.

After arriving at the airport that early morning of September 2007, the sense of anticipation and excitement was evident as introductions were made and familiar faces welcomed. Chatter began and photos produced as we shared the reasons for our pilgrimage, whilst waiting to board the plane for Singapore.

I am not going to detail every aspect of the trip; scenic and tourist sights were secondary. This opportunity to learn my father’s story was paramount and the further we progressed along the way the enormity of this unknown part of my father’s life became more overwhelming.

Catching up with Wiff Muir’s children Loris Fletcher and Robert Muir was very special. They are part of the childhood I have previously mentioned and who I haven’t seen for years. I think along with my cousin Karen Trevaskis we made a good show of keeping up that well known Bendigo tradition!

Talking to Jack Baker on that first morning stands out in my mind. Jack was telling Karen and I how his cousin Georgie Pullen had been killed, the result of a Bren gun carrier overturning in the heat of the Muar battle. Remembering how Dad had injured his spine this seemed a familiar story, and sure enough Doug Ogden was able to confirm this with the information he had with him. Jack also remembered speaking to dad in 1971 when he’d attended a 2/29th reunion seeking information about his cousin.

It was these experiences throughout the trip that made it so significant. Invisible threads, connecting you to people and aspects of your father’s life unknown to you. In fact it was the realization of all these shared experiences that made the trip so special to us all.

Our first stop, a visit to Selarang Barracks was an honour extended to us by the Singapore Military, as it is not open to the public. It was here that 85,000 men began their incarceration and for us the beginning our journey. Visits to Changi Museum and Chapel, Kranji War Cemetery and many of the sites our fathers worked on before they were sent north, was included while we were in Singapore.

We had an early rise for our day at Parit Sulong which involved a border crossing into Malaysia. Passing over the infamous bridge into the town, were welcomed by the sight of brightly coloured banners and tents, the site of the memorial service.

Many local people had come to pay their respects, laughing and chatting as their children played nearby. Then amongst that happy crowd you would glimpse older faces, more sombre and it came to me, that they too were part of this day of dedication and shared with the veterans memories of those dark days.

I had mixed emotions when seeing those old veterans, so dignified proudly wearing the medals. Pride for them, but sadness too, remembering my father.

As part of the service beautiful posies of Singapore orchids were provided for everyone to place on the memorial, a thoughtful gesture which allowed everyone their personal moments of reflection.

At the completion of the service we moved across the road to the P.W.D building the site of the massacre. That this area is largely untouched since those early days further added to the solemnity of the occasion. The tree in the back ground, where the men were herded still standing, a sentinel to those sad days.

It was Ben Hackney of the 2/29th who, badly injured, feigned death and witnessed this horrific massacre, the details of which are beyond belief. He spent a harrowing 6 weeks crawling through the jungle, trying to survive before he was recaptured. This terrible secret was shared and documented by a handful of P.O.Ws, firstly to ensure Ben’s safety but also so there was a record able to be presented at the War Crimes Trials after the war. Ben survived to do this.

The final part of the day, was a lavish meal and the opportunity to chat with the veterans. I was able to catch up with Cyril Gilbert an old mate of dad’s and Wiff Muir’s before heading back to Muar Road and the battle site.

As written in the 2/29th Battalion History: “The Battle of Muar and the role of the 2/29th Battalion has been described as a story of great courage, grim determination and remarkable endurance by men who stood their ground for six days and nights, defying the battle hardened 5th Division of the Japanese Imperial Guards, with all the advantage of overwhelming air and tank support to dislodge them, until ordered to withdraw. The Battalion has the distinction of two sets of battle honours the first for the Muar Battle and the second for their part in the battle for Singapore Island.” It is thought that the massacre was a payback for the heavy toll they inflicted on the Japanese 5th Division.

We held a simple but moving service in a clearing by the side of the road to honour those lost and those who served here before our return to Singapore.

Our six days had passed so quickly, we had shared so much that it was sad saying goodbye to those heading home.

Moving on to Thailand, our Bangkok hotel room was a welcome relief from the humidity, air pollution and raucous sellers with their calculators,

Our next stop was Ban Pong Station. This was the end of the P.O.Ws five day train journey from Singapore. Then nearby we came upon the remains of some of the steel rice trucks. Trucks that had possibly carried our fathers! Twenty eight men and their gear in conditions so crowded that they could neither sit nor stand in comfort. Freezing nights and days of forty degrees causing great hardship. With little food, water or sleep men arrived at Ban Pong exhausted. At the infrequent stops men were bashed if they got off the train, so to relieve themselves they would hold each other as they lent out of the doors of the trucks. The photo of Janella Christie reflecting on her dad Bob, captures the mood of us all.

But as I was to learn this was just the beginning of the sad but heroic saga of Pond’s F Force.

As we moved up towards the Burma border in our air conditioned coach my mind was constantly drawn to my father. I tried to imagine how he and the other men could have traversed 175 miles of this harsh and rugged terrain over those seventeen days, in the blackness of the jungle nights, with little food, struggling with all their equipment and carrying those too sick to walk, through the mud heat and monsoonal rains. The promised rests during the heat of the day non existent.

It was beyond my comprehension.

The River Kwai Village was a tranquil setting to spend our three days as we moved around the area. The first morning we set off early for the 3.5K. walk along the Memorial Walking Trail.

The first thing that struck me was the absolute silence as we began our walk to Hellfire Pass. Setting off through the canopy of trees, the early morning sunlight filtering through cast an ethereal mist over us as we made our way along the cutting. That we were all touched in some way was evident as we walked along in quiet contemplation, talking in hushed tones as we made our way past all those familiar names, Hintok Cutting, Hammer and Tap Cutting, the Three Tier Bridge and Konyu or Hellfire Pass to the Australian Memorial and Museum.

Lunch at the home of Pho Toey, a good friend of Weary Dunlop, was the best Malaysian meal I had and what a gentle man our host was. As well as the Weary Dunlop Museum being here the Jack Chalker Gallery was nestled in the gardens and one of my highlights, his amazingly simple sketches so graphic in telling the everyday toil of the prisoners.

Another early start, this time up to the Three Pagodas and the Burma border. This is the area where my father worked. We were fortunate to have Rod Beattie a man who has dedicated so much of his life to the ‘line’, accompany us. People come from around the globe seeking information and he can account for every man who died on the railway. His knowledge is remarkable and he had us tramping down though the tapioca crops to see the indentations in the earth around Cholera Hill where men had been buried, but all now removed to one of the war cemeteries, then into the jungle at Takanun where my Dad was. I was greatly honoured when Doug asked me to play the battalion song on my recorder at our memorial service for Col Stiles dad Leo.

What great memories of the train ride from Wampo Station to Kanchanaburi. We rode over the long curving bridge, where sick men had spent hours in the water to build it. And what about John Lack our resident professor, it seems, he was also our resident song and dance man!! Who could forget him heartily singing the Battalion song accompanied by the percussion of the train wheels as we rattled down the track.

A final visit to Rod Beattie’s museum at Kanchanaburi, where he presented us all with a railway spike before our return to Bangkok and farewell dinner.

Who could forget too, all the intrigue in the purchase of 30 pith helmets, roping in Jack our guide to do the wheeler dealing, then presenting Lis and Doug with theirs at the final dinner.

To Lis and Doug Ogden our leaders what a great experience you gave us, A special thanks must go to Doug, whose wise council and understanding due to his own personal journey gave us all the opportunity to share such emotional times. The intimate little ceremonies along the way and sharing the Ode for those who’d lost loved one’s really united us. Never keen on group travel I have to say that on this occasion the group made the trip and gave us pride and understanding of both the Battalion and the family member we represented.

I will be for ever grateful to Rod Beattie, whose reply when someone asked him about F Force replied, “well there is F Force and then there is Pond’s F Force, that’s a whole different story!” I knew of Colonel Pond, He had written us a wonderful letter when Dad passed away. That one comment was the catalyst for me. Since coming home I have read a number of books, including Dr Roy Mills diary where his list of the 700 men of Pond’s party includes my father’s name.

These men were constantly on the move, at the height of the monsoon season, in a world of low cloud, drenching rain in the most harsh and remote terrain. With mud up to their knees they were frequently forced to do the work of the yaks who couldn't cope with the harsh conditions. Shoes, clothes and tents quickly rotted, with few replacements.

They were also in administrative limbo, the Japanese in Singapore never officially passed them over to the Japanese in Thailand. Officially they didn't exist particularly when it came to food and medical supplies. Few Japanese officers cared about their welfare, cholera was rife. Moving from camp to camp took feats of super human effort.

Stretcher cases, others walking but needing support, their few wet tents, large rice cauldrons, meagre supplies and the heavy anvils and equipment to build the railway were all carried by the men. At a new camp work began on the railway the next day. This took precedence over the well being of the men, or the building of huts. Consequently all men, including the sick and dying, could be lying in mud and exposed to the elements for days, before adequate cover could be organized. Bob Christie told me that lying in the soft mud when your body was sore and aching was often preferable to the hard bamboo slats. “You got a better sleep!”

The few attap huts were usually in indescribable condition. The local people used to clear the jungle were treated appallingly. Arriving at a new camp men could be faced with the dead and dying, often forced to share these huts, the stench beyond belief. Men became affected with scabies and lice and was how they became exposed to cholera.

At Takanun 600 men were crammed into an area 70 x 30 yards, this included the latrines that flooded when the rivers rose. To get to the railway site men would walk 2 miles, passing 50 yards along a 10 inch wide log, no hand rails with a 30 foot drop spanning a flooding river. Finishing 15 long and arduous hours at 11 pm on the enormous Takanun cutting in the rush to complete the line, weary men would drag their tired bodies home in the pitch black, across the log and fall into wet blankets too tired to wash. Bootless and only a G string, bodies were exposed to the elements, the hazards of working the railway and tormented by sandflies, mosquitoes and other skin conditions. Dr Mills and Col. Pond’s protests, to prevent the sick and dying from working, usually in vain.

I frequently ask myself, how did my father and these other men not only survive, but remain sane. They came home, shared all this with no one but their fellow P.O.Ws and despite their hardships, simply got on with their lives.

Accessing my father’s medical files including some from Changi written on tatty bits of paper, has told me much about his life. Thirty relapses of malaria over twenty three months as well as constant dysentery from the Changi records. No wonder his weight dropped to 7 St. His continued hospitalization from amoebic dysentery into the mid 50’s, his surgery complications, and his chronic pain.

He was always so stoical and never complained. A cold or flu was a different story and it became a bit of a family joke. My mother would say, “your father’s dying again!” Imagine my dismay when I came across a report documenting muscle and joint pain when he had a cold or flu, was a consequence of beriberi.

Then I found another report saying how easily he was brought to tears.

As a little girl I saw those tears being quietly wiped away. It could be when watching tele, reading a book or something someone said. Young as I was, I knew this had something to do with the war, it worried me and not wanting to upset him, never asked about those times. Those files really opened my eyes to just how many things Dad and others had to deal with.

The six months Dad spent in hospital were hard on us all. Living in Bendigo, Heidelberg Hospital was hard to access. Mum didn't drive and with a baby and two youngsters relied on someone to drive us. I only recall 2 visits in that time. We didn't have a phone, so had to use the local public phone. For Dad, it meant a message from the nurses as he was confined to bed.

At home it was hard for my mother, sometimes she didn't cope.

As an eight year old I was given responsibility beyond my years, becoming some what of a surrogate parent to my sister and brother who were three and seven years younger than me. Saturday morning I would catch the bus into Bendigo to do the messages or pay bills. I became my mother’s sounding board listening to her concerns about our finances, Dad and the difficulties of being alone. Probably too much of a load for an eight year old!

For my father and so many other men the war was never over, they battled all their lives and did so bravely and with little complaint. Dad stayed in a job he didn't enjoy for over 20 years to provide for us.

Then after his coronary, though he’d vowed he’d never be deprived of food again, gave up all the cheeses, exotic sausages and ice cream that he loved so much. Stopped smoking his pipe, so much part of him and walked every day. Then when he regained his health, his life long dream of traveling Australia was thwarted when diagnosed with M.N.D.

My father had been having terrible falls. Visits to his local doctor and Heidelberg Hospital, put them down to his back. It had deteriorated so badly they wondered how he could still walk. In desperation Mum rang Weary Dunlop who organized a visit to a neurologist, he instantly diagnosed MND. I was still in hospital, after my son’s Alex’s birth and I remember I cried most of the day when I heard the news.

His courage and philosophical attitude made caring for him so easy. When his doctor came to discuss his imminent death, after he left he said, “poor little bugger, he thinks he’s doing the right thing, but I’ve probably seen more death than he’ll see in a life time!” Now, I really understand that comment having learnt the story of Pond’s F Force.

My father died eleven months from diagnosis.

In the medical files the Doctor has written; “A tragic and hopeless case. Terminal.”

The men were sometimes discriminated against too. Dad could never get life insurance when this was the only form of superannuation. He’d had a 100% disability pension granted after his back surgery, not a large amount, certainly not enough to live on, but when he was forced to retire, this pension was considered income and so deducted from his retirement pension.

As I write this so many memories come back to me. The sack of rice in the back room, for when Dad had trouble eating normal food. Acquired when rice was in short supply after the war, by Dad’s friend Jan O’Hoy who lived in the unique Chinatown before it was bulldozed by the Bendigo Council.

The many woolen socks my mother knitted for feet which couldn't tolerate a hint of synthetic fibre.

The pad I found in a drawer with pages of two written lines. Dad’s attempt to write his memoirs, for the Battalion history. Never completed, I think, because it was just too hard

The poem, his medals and citation hidden away in his wardrobe. I proudly wore his medals to school for Anzac Day, probably more times than he did, not realizing the significance of the DCM ,

More recently at my first attendance of a 2/29th Anzac Luncheon, it was overwhelming to learn of the love and respect the Battalion had for my father and the tears flowed when Bob Christie took me aside to show me the Battalion Roll, an honour given to all new attendees. This old ledger has been with them from the beginning, the names in alphabetical order neatly recording in lead pencil every man’s details. This year the men passed this precious document into the safe keeping of the State Library of Victoria

Taking this trip has been a journey of discovery in more ways than I could ever have imagined. Coming to terms with some of it has been hard.

As a kid my life seemed pretty ordinary, it had its up’s and downs and you would sometimes think life wasn't fair, but when you put it in the context of your father’s life it is a very humbling experience. I could never have comprehended what my father went through, in fact still find it hard as an adult. My admiration for him has no bounds. He was a great Dad and man of enormous strength and integrity.

As for my illness, what better example than my father of getting on with life.

I have now spoken at the Shrine in a series called, “Children of Soldiers, A Pilgrimage of Love.” And had the honour of being the first daughter of my generation to propose the toast at the 2/29th Battalion Anzac Day Luncheon.

It is also with great pride that I have been able to play the Battalion song on my recorder at some of the 2/29th functions.

Things I could never ever have imagined doing.

My one regret is that my son Alex doesn't remember his grandfather. Dad was so proud of him, I’d put Alex in Dad’s arms for him to hold when he still had just a bit of feeling in his arms. Sadly he died just before Alex’ first birthday. They would have been such great mates. Recently, looking at family photos, Alex with his little daughter Ruby and my father, with me and my sister, both at about the same age. I saw my son, young and healthy, in the prime of his life and I looked at the face of my father, grey haired and aged beyond his years.

What a legacy he has left us, of his life both during and after the war, a wonderful example of how the human spirit can triumph over adversity.

How proud I am of him.

Margaret Hogan

July 2009

Dad with me and my sister Anne

True Friendship

by Colin Stiles

On 14 October 1945 Neil Ross, of Newtown, Geelong, wrote as follows to my mother Joyce Stiles, the wife of Sgt Leo Vernon Stiles VX40201 A Coy 2/29th Battalion:

I don’t think you know me, but I was lucky enough to be a very good friend of your husband, Leo. We were in A Coy together and got very friendly. But I would like to offer you my sincerest sympathy on your great loss.

Leo was one of the great men of this world. Everyone thought the world of him and his death left a gap in our lives which can never be refilled.

Up to the last on the Thailand railway Leo was working to help other people and although he was sick himself he did not spare himself in trying to help other sick people. He has left a name behind that will never die. In the 2/29th Bn he is looked upon as the ideal Sergeant and everything a man should be.

It must be quite a relief to you that you have two sons left to carry on. You and they were always in his thoughts. Once again I offer my sincere sympathy and if there is anything I can do I will only be too glad. Full records of his death are kept by the 2/29th Bn.

Writing to John Lack, Colin Stiles adds:

‘I went to my first 2/29th reunion dinner in 1994 and was put alongside Jack Lonsdale. During the evening Jack spoke about my Father, which was great to hear. Near the end of the evening he said the day my Father died there was a call for a volunteer to go to a camp nearby to pick up some rice. My Father volunteered and despite Jack and his friends trying to stop him because he was very sick, he went. On his return to the camp he collapsed and Jack was nursing him and trying to get him to eat when he died. Jack did not give me any more detail than that.

‘But on page 196 during an interview recorded in your book No Lost Battalion, Frank Nankervis stated “I remember one of our sergeants, who was an old sergeant, a highly respected sergeant. His health deteriorated to a stage where I walked into the camp one night and he was lying on the ground. He was being cradled by three of his men who were a group. And they were begging him to eat. He was that sick, he couldn’t be bothered. And one of the three, a rough tough man himself, this fellow, he was a miner down Wonthaggi, he got the food and he chewed it and he leaned over and he spat it into the mouth of this man. That was one of the most moving I think I’ve ever seen. And his sergeant – ‘Ooh, sergeant’, you know, as long as there’s been army there’ve been fables about sergeants. These fellows begged him to live, and he died, and they just wept over him. They were men used to death and yet their sergeant died and they nursed him until the end.”

‘Frank told me he did not name Jack or my Father during the interview in case it embarrassed me. I know Tich Davitt was there also, but unfortunately do not know who the third person was.’

Leo Stiles

Jack Lonsdale

[Thank you, Colin, for sharing this letter and your memories with us. Leo Stiles died at Takanoon, Thailand, on 14 July 1943, from typhus and malaria. Lt Colonel SAF Pond also recorded Leo’s death in his diary on that day. Leo left a widow and two sons, Charley aged 6 and Colin aged 5. He was cremated with other soldiers and their ashes were eventually reburied in Kanchanaburi War Cemetery, and Leo's headstone is at Collective Grave Lot 1, Row O, Grave 4-43. ‘Tich’ Davitt came home, but passed away in recent years. I remember vividly Frank telling me this story when I interviewed him for No Lost Battalion at his home ‘Willow Farm’ on 1 May 2000. Colonel Pond kept a diary, mostly in French, and the Thailand section of that diary, covering ‘Pond’s Party’ on the railway, is currently being translated. – John Lack.]

My Father's Footsteps

By Doug Ogden, Son of Private J.D.W. Ogden VX28730 2/29th A.I.F. Battalion

For years, in fact all my life as far back as I can remember, I have had a feeling of loss and unresolved grief. I have had an almost overwhelming need to know my father. When discussing these feelings, some have said: "HOW CAN YOU MISS WHAT YOU DID NOT HAVE?" Clearly I believe one can.

My father, Private J. D. W. Ogden, VX 28730 2/29 A.I.F. Battalion died as a prisoner of war at Kami Sonkurai on the Thai-Burma Railway 20th August 1943. What was this Thai-Burma Railway all about? I had heard many stories about this tragic part of our  history. Mainly, I lived in denial that my father had been part of this event. On the other  hand, I had been told by family and friends what a fine young man my father was and  how he and so many others had united to preserve this country. My father was indeed held in high regard by those who knew him. This also created a little problem for me. I had high expectations placed on me so as not the let him or my mother down. My mother never remarried because no one could measure up to my father.

Many times over a long period of time I had travelled to Asia and often made what at the  time were determined attempts to visit Changi or some other places in Malaysia where  my father had been, however when the time came I would become fearful and could not  face the unknown. About 8 years ago I was travelling to Thailand and attempted to  obtain travel permits for Burma but was unable to do so. The region can be quite  politically unsettled and at the time the Australian Embassy advised that is was probably best to leave Burma out of travel arrangements.

In 1996 the need for me to complete this journey developed an almost urgent status, it  had to be done. I had to face my fears and go. It was in August that I started making  arrangements to leave in November. I planned to go to Changi, then on to Muar in  Malaysia, back to Singapore, then by train to Banpong in Thailand and on to the Three  Pagodas and Kami Sonkurai. From here I would have to travel back to Bangkok and fly  to Rangoon in Burma and go to the cemetery at Thanbyuzayat where my father is now  buried.

I left on the 1st of November, arriving in Singapore late on Friday evening. I was up and  about early on Saturday, firstly to organize the train trip to Thailand and then to get  details of the buses to Muar in Malaysia. Having done that, I set off for Changi where I  visited the chapel and museum. This was the first of many emotional times I would  experience over the next three weeks. I had great difficulty coping with seeing and reading the notations of Japanese visitors who had gone before me, anger and  resentment were very strong. I also visited Selerang Barracks where some of our boys stayed.

Next morning off to Muar on the bus to visit the area where my father had been in action  against the Japanese before the allies were driven back to Singapore. There was  nothing to indicate the events that took place more than 50 years ago. These towns are  extremely crowded and busy and not at all the hamlets as depicted in what I had read.  Back in Singapore I prepared to leave early the next morning on the train to Thailand. The train station was already bustling when I arrived. Everything seemed to be chaos and confusion. Things did not appear to be progressing at a pace we Westerners like, but we all boarded and were away on time. On this train I felt as if I were cheating, for although I was traveling 2™ class, it was luxury compared to the rice wagons my father  travelled in. My journey was to take two days and two nights. The first night was spent at a hotel in Butterworth and the second on the train. Nothing like the five tortuous days and nights endured by our men. The trip was good and I enjoyed the countryside.

At Banpong I detrained about 8.30 a.m. and headed for Kanchanaburi which I was going to make my base before going further north. Here strange things started to occur. I was staying in a small guest house and at dinner I was alone and reading Bob Christie's History of the 2/29th Battalion when the proprietor, an Englishman, asked if he could borrow the book. I hesitated, said no, but after much pleading, relented and said that I would collect the book the next morning. When I entered the dining room for breakfast, two men were at one of the tables and one of them had my book. He introduced himself as Rod Beattie. I didn't care who he was, I just wanted my book back. After a bit of cajoling I sat down and had coffee with them. The other man was Dick Meadows, a film producer with the BBC, who was making a documentary about a woman who was arriving the next day with the rest of the crew from the UK. This woman was Carol Cooper whose father had been in Changi and had left with my father as part of F Force. Carol's father was sent to Nike and then to the hospital at Tanbaya where had died, also in 1943.

The reason for Carol's visit was the same as mine and the film crew was there as a  result of her father's diary coming to light in the latter part of 1996. Till then none of her  family had been aware of its existence. This diary was the almost daily writings of a man  to his wife and children and it is certainty one of the most ouching documents I have read in my life.

We spent three days together as a group, traveling to various points along the length of  the railway from the bridge on the River Kwai, the Wampo Viaduct, Hellfire Pass, Nike  which is now under a magnificent lake and to the Three Pagodas.

How lucky I was to have Rod Beattie as my guide and advisor for this time. Rod works for both the Hellfire Pass Project and the Commonwealth War Graves Commission and lives in Kanchanaburi with his lovely wife and recently arrived baby daughter. Rod is passionate about both jobs. Obsessive is a more accurate description. Rod has an extensive personal library on the region and events that took place but, more importantly, he wishes to ensure that this part of Australian history is never forgotten and to this end he works like a man on a mission. Rod is able to talk on a range of subjects but before long he is back to the 'Railway', and working out how to get support for the museum that is to be built at Hellfire Pass. It is going to need memorabilia and artifacts. Already he has many books for the proposed library in the museum. It was with Rod's local knowledge that he and I came upon what we believe to be the area once known as Kami Sonkurai. This was very emotional. To imagine my father may have been on this ground under such conditions and that he may have even touched some of the sleepers still remaining caused feelings of great elation and sadness. Why didn't he stay home? It was with great affection and sorrow I said goodbye to Rod Beattie. How fortunate we are to have him tending the War Graves in Kanchanaburi. I left Carol Cooper and the crew in Bangkok after a wonderful experience, particularly remembering the unbelievable days filming in Hellfire Pass.

With my feet back on the ground I left Bangkok for Rangoon. The Burmese Consul had issued a visa and advised that I would be best to get a government appointed guide as soon as I arrived as I would be travelling as far south as allowed. This I did and left within an hour of arrival on a five day adventure. The distances are small but the roads absolutely bone shaking. My guide was fairly good in English and planned an itinerary that would get me to Thanbyuzayat but would take in some sights on the way. There was the beautiful war cemetery at Rangoon with around 12000 graves of the allies. It was just after Armistice Day and the wreaths from the various embassies were still on display in the memorial. I visited a number of pagodas, markets and interesting villages where we ate. My guide ensured that I only ate and drank what was safe for westerners. While all of this was fascinating, the apprehension was building and at no stage did I lose track of why I was there. We stayed one night at Moulmein and the next morning started out to the cemetery, arriving around 10.00 a.m. It took little time to find my father's grave and also the grave of Carol Cooper's father. This was a very difficult time. I was full of both joy and sadness. I reflected on the trip and my mind went back to my mother who died in 1987. I wondered if she would have wanted to make the journey. Many memories  flooded back and I shed many tears. I sat at my father's grave and talked to him, sometimes in my mind and then sometimes out loud. I thanked him for his sacrifice and for his part in trying to make the world a better place.

I was very sad for Carol and the crew. They had been refused entry to Burma and had gone back to England with their mission incomplete. It was Carol's wish to have her mother's ashes interred with her father. The ashes were left with Rod and he has made arrangements for this to happen. I had a hard time leaving the cemetery and did revisit again later in the day. Things were very quiet as we travelled away.

Since arriving home I have been to Canberra to the Australian War Memorial archives where my wife and I spent three days researching the area to which I had been and as a result we will both be back in Thailand in March to retrace some of my steps. The film of "The Diary" went to air in the UK in December and by all accounts was very well received. I was delighted to receive a copy as it is a very tangible reminder of my experiences.

There are difficulties in travel to that part of the world and to travel alone is not appropriate for all, but for me it was something I had to do, and reading the visitors' books at the various museums and memorials many others have had the same need. It was and will always be one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. It is a very new experience for me to be able to talk freely about the war and my father's fate without being choked by emotion. This journey has been a freeing experience. My thanks to the men and women who served. I would dearly love to hear from anyone who was at Kami Sonkurai and can remember my father.

LEST WE FORGET

Information about Carol Cooper

It was on my first real trip to Kanchanaburi that I met Carol and the BBC crew headed up by Dick Meadows whilst doing the documentary for The Diary. Carol had just received her father's diary and the documentary was to retell how it had only recently come to light after sixty years. Her father Bill Cooper had joined up to serve in Europe where Britain's efforts were concentrated at the time. Her Dad however was sent off to the Far East. Bill was captured and had a similar fate to other allies, being incarcerated in Changi and then sent up to work on the Thai- Burma Railway. Bill died in December 1943 at Tambaya just over the border in Burma, he is buried at Thanbyuzayat where my father is also buried.

It was one of these moments of fate that brought Carol and I together, we were at the same place at the same time retracing our father's footsteps. This trip to Thailand was a real shock to Carol as she followed her father's sad journey. With Rod Beattie she was made aware of the horror and brutality that befell her dad. This was a very stressful and emotional time for her and I was able to share several days with Carol and the film crew. We laughed a bit and cried a lot.

We were having dinner discussing the next stage of our trip into Burma when Dick Meadows got a call from the BBC telling him there were hostilities brewing between the Burmese Government and British journalists and they were therefore not to proceed further. This decision was devastating to Carol. She would not get to her father's grave, the driving force behind her journey. We took a day or two to settle down and we all went to Bangkok, Carol and crew to return to England and me to travel on alone to Burma. At Thanbyuzayat I took photos of her father's grave and sent them onto her.

This whole event was the start of an incredible life experience for Carol. She visited and stayed with us in Melbourne and joined our first gathering of Families and Friends of 2/29th in 1997 Within a short time of her return to the UK she was again off to Burma and visited her father's grave. Carol has been back a number of times and I met her on one occasion in Kanchanaburi for Anzac Day services. Carol established Children Of Far East Prisoners Of War (COFEPOW) to help others whose loved ones had served so far away. She has led groups to the area and has established a wonderful web site. Carol has lobbied government to establish memorials in the UK for these servicemen specifically as they seemed to have had less public acknowledgment than their counterparts in the European Theatre of War. Carol has been supported in her efforts by her husband Ron.

Carol, from a personal pilgrimage has developed something for all affected by war.

Click on the following link http://www.cofepow.org.uk/ for more information.

One of our "Sons" and his family represents the 2/29th

By Colin Stiles, Son of Sgt Leo V Stiles VX40201 A Coy 2/29th Bn

Colin, his wife Marion and their son Terry, and daughter Kate were in Thailand as part of an organised ANZAC Pilgrimage tour 19th to 30 April 2008. Colin's comments are listed below.

On 25 April 2008, Anzac day, we were part of a big crowd at Hellfire Pass for the dawn service; this was a very special and moving service. Later that morning we attended a mid morning Anzac service at Kanchanaburi War Cemetery. This is where my father is buried and I was lucky enough to be chosen to lay a floral tribute during this ceremony.

After that service we went to the Thailand-Burma Railway Centre Museum which is situated just over the road from the cemetery and presented a 2/29th Plaque to Rod Beattie the Managing Director of the Thailand-Burma Railway Centre Museum.

Below is a transcript of the speech I made when I handed the plaque to Rod Beattie as well as a photo of the occasion.

2/29th Plaque Speech

"On behalf of the committee and members of the 2/29th Battalion Association I would like to present to you this 2/29th Battalion plaque which is a symbol of the courage and suffering of the men of the 2/29th Battalion during World War 2. We hope you will accept this plaque and allow it to hang with pride and honour in your museum."

After the Plaque presentation I mentioned to Rod that my father had died during the railway construction. He stated his centre had an extensive data base of information and offered to research that data base for information on my father.

Although I already had a comprehensive list of information about my father I did not know he had worked in Konkoita and Lower Thimongtha before he died in Tha Khanun (Takanun) on 14 July 1943.

This information was extremely significant as after the surrender of the Japanese Forces on 15 August 1945 a decision was made that all POWs who died on the railway construction were to be re-interred in either Thanbyuzayat War Cemetery Burma or Kanchanaburi War Cemetery Thailand. Due to the vast extent of the 451km of railway, it was decided to divide the railway into 2 sectors, with the large marshalling yards at Neike affording a convenient point of demarcation. It was therefore decided that those buried between Thanbyuzayat and Neike would be recovered and re-interred at Thanbyuzayat. Those buried from Neike to Nong Pladuk (Thailand), would be relocated to Kanchanaburi. A small band of dedicated workers assisted the War Graves Commission Representatives with the enormous task to locate several thousand Allied POW remains scattered in approx 144 cemeteries. The task was made even greater as many cemeteries had been reclaimed by the jungle over the previous two years following the joining of the lines from both ends on 17 Oct 43.

I would recommend contact with the centre for any queries you may have. Their data base covers nearly all POWs, whether Dutch, British, American or Australian. Contact details for the Thailand-Burma Railway centre can be found by visiting the following link: http://www.tbrconline.com

Listed below is a copy of the information taken from the Thailand-Burma Railway centre data base for my father.

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2/29th Battalion Relatives Pilgrimage to Malaysia, Singapore and Thailand

MEMORIAL AT PARIT SULONG MALAYSIA

4th September 2007

Association's trip to dedication ceremony

There was a bit of procrastination on my part before I finally committed to organising the trip to the dedication service for the Memorial at Parit Sulong in Malaysia. This is the site of the Massacre where many of the Allies were murdered by the Japanese in January 1942. This event was subsequent to The Battle of Muar where members of the 2/29th and others held back the enemy. They were finally forced to give ground and make their way back to Singapore.

The trip came together extremely well, we had twenty seven starters for Singapore plus two who were working locally and were to take our numbers to a symbolic twenty nine. These two joined us for the dedication service on September 4th 2007. This trip was to be one of the most remarkable experiences of my life and surpassed all my expectations.

The main group had been in Singapore for three days and had explored many of the places of interest where our grandfathers, fathers, uncles and cousins were known to have been whilst on service. We visited St Patrick's where Gary Simmons' dad did his officer training and the places where our men had constructed roads and a memorial to the Japanese. We also saw the Ford Factory where the surrender took place, The Changi Chapel and we were privileged to tour Selerang Barracks. A trip to Kranji War Cemetery to visit the graves of some of our family members was a day of great sadness. Ed Burton spent time at his dad's grave. Jack Barker visited the grave of a cousin George Pullen. Both soldiers were injured and died following the Battle of Muar. Waine Pickering reflected on his father's name inscribed on the wall dedicated to the men who had no grave. Dianne Martin spent similar time remembering her uncles' one of whom died in the Battle and one who went missing at Benut. For some it was their first trip to this region. The journey was not without some trepidation and yet there was a real need to make a connection with their loved ones. During our stay in Singapore we were able to take in other historic spots such as The Battle Box and the fabulous museum.

We started early for Parit Sulong as we had a three hour drive into Malaysia to be there by 11AM for the service. We arrived about 10.30Am and got settled for a wonderful, moving service with representatives from the Australian and Malaysian Governments, our Army and other dignitaries. There were seven veterans, mainly the 2/19th and two widows. None of the members of the 2/29th were able to attend but they had the largest support group.

After the service we walked a short distance to the Bridge and the scene of where Ben Hackney had hidden himself under the PWD building. More emotion. Brenda Hodge's uncle, Daniel Kennedy was one of those massacred. We then attended lunch with the official party and were entertained by a group of local dancers. We left for Muar and stopped approximately where the Battle had taken place. We held a service for not only those who we had lost there but for all who had served. We read a poem, read the names of those who were on the trip and the family member they were representing. The Ode was spoken and the Last Post was played.

Most of us at this point knew the misery that had befallen our grandfathers, dads, uncles' and cousins. We spoke of 2/29th members Bob Christie, "Doc" Victor Brand, John Lack, Jack Meagher, Mervyn Brace, Vic Wedlick, Ed Sellens, Jake Ogden, Wif Muir, Stanley Barker, George Pullen, Leo Stiles, Daniel Kennedy, Bill Pickering, Phil Simmons, Alec Burton, Don McRae, brothers Fred and David Dean. Francis Smith also mentioned although he was at Gemas and was injured there.

All these men were represented by sons and daughters and so on. Meagher and Brace were captured and went to Pudu Gaol before going onto the railway. Most of those who survived went back to Changi and then on to The Railway. On the way back from Muar we stopped for another little ceremony at Kulai, about the mid way point between where Waine's dad and Dianne's uncle, Fred Dean, had gone missing after serving with the Chinese Guerrillas. This was again a very touching and deeply moving experience for us. We arrived back in Singapore about 8PM.

We lightened the mood the following day with a visit to Sentosa Island. We travelled on the cable car, visited the aquarium, saw the dolphins, had dinner on the beach and attended the water and light show.

Some of our group returned home, leaving twenty one to go to Thailand. We landed in Bangkok and were transferred to our hotel. The following day we travelled to Bampong Station where our men had left the train in 1943 after leaving from Singapore five days earlier. This is where the men started from to march to various camps along the way to Burma. We then made our way to our base in Kanchanaburi. We visited the War Cemetery and caught up with Rod Beattie who not only manages the Cemetery but has a museum just across the road. Col Stiles and wife Marion visited Col's dad's grave. The day was busy, we visited the Bridge on the River Kwai, had lunch beside the bridge then took a long- tail boat to the other cemetery at Chungkai, (the site of a hospital during the war)and on to the sleeping Buddha. We transferred to our hotel for the evening.

The following day we went to Hellfire Pass, walked the track through the cutting and looked through the visitors centre. We then drove to Home Phu Toey where we had lunch and visited The Weary Dunlop Museum and The Jack Chalker Gallery. No one seems to visit Hellfire Pass without getting caught up in the tragedy that affected so many soldiers as prisoners. Most visitors say Hellfire Pass has a presence.

Rod Beattie met us early the next morning as we set out for the Three Pagodas and the Burma border. Along the way we were shown camp sites where our fathers had worked on the railway. We saw where Doc Brand had his hospital at Tamoronpato. We had a service at Tarkanoon where Col Stiles' dad died in the arms of his 2/29th mates. In addition to the Last Post, the Battalion Song was played by Marg Hogan on her recorder. We saw where Nieke once was, Cholera Hill, had lunch at Sangkla Buri and then on to Three Pagodas at the border. It was pouring with rain just as we arrived, but cleared enough for us to move about freely. On the way back we held another service at Kami Sonkuri, the camp where my father died. We arrived back at our hotel exhausted after another long, and at times, emotional day.

To lighten the new day we had an elephant ride after visiting Sai Yok Waterfall. Then it was back to Wampo Station for lunch at a restaurant overlooking the river and the Wampo Viaduct. This is part of the remaining railway line to Kanchanaburi. The train seemed to hurtle along the track and we did our best with the Battalion Song. A quick visit to the Rod's museum and a last chance to visit the cemetery and we were off to Bangkok.

A free day and then a farewell dinner and some reminiscing. Such a trip cannot but bring us closer as we share the not only sad times but the wonderful happy recollections. It was concluded by all that this was a most memorable trip and a once in a lifetime opportunity. We had come together, some of us were old mates, some we had met for the first time, but we all came home as part of The 2/29th Family. The benefits of this encounter were clear to us all.

Doug Ogden

December 2007

Parit Sulong Memorial: Lest We Forget

By Kerry Barker

Cpl Barker's cause of death is marked as Pr KIA at Parit Sulong.

'Pr' represents 'presumed'. This is used when no actual evidence exists for the soldier's fate. 'KIA' represents 'Killed in action'.

Granddaughter Kerry was a member of the 2/29th Pilgrimage tour of Singapore/ Malaysia/ Thailand in September 2007. One of the many highlights of the tour was attending the Parit Sulong Memorial dedication on 4 September 2007. On that day 29 relatives and partners of 2/29th diggers attended the ceremony. After the ceremony we had a short service close to the spot where the 2/29th went into the Battle of Muar against the Japanese near Bakri on 17 January 1942. Below is an article Kerry has written for her work magazine.

 'The steamy and sun-soaked tiny town of Parit Sulong in southern Malaysia recently once again hosted an emotionally drained group of Australians - the Australians who remembered-either first-hand or through recent lessons-the final stage of the Battle of Muar.

In January 1942 Parit Sulong was the site of one of the most tragic events of Australia's participation in the Malayan Campaign. Approximately 110 Australian and 40 Indian soldiers (who were already Injured and entitled under the Geneva Convention) were massacred in the once-sleepy town located on the route into Singapore.

A memorial commemorating the Australian sacrifice and loss at the Battle of Muar and the massacre at Parit Sulong was dedicated in September 2007. Twenty-nine family and friends of Australia's 2/29th battalion, including myself, grand-daughter of Corporal S.A. Barker were with the frail WWII veterans, current defence personnel and Australian and Malaysian Dignitaries who had come to the Memorial dedication.

To say we were emotionally drained bunch might have been an understatement. The group had gathered in Singapore a few days earlier, had spent a day visiting historic WWII sites in Singapore, including the graves of some of our loved ones at Kranji War Cemetery.

On the day of the memorial service we were at the very place where our fathers, uncles, cousins and my Grandpa had been 65 years previously. We tried to imagine how they had stayed alive and sane, moving through impenetrable jungle, in this heat, with these bugs, and with the possibility of a bullet or bayonet just a step away. We were a mixed bunch of Aussies each with a unique story that linked us to the 2/29th Battalion. Some of the relatives of my travelling companions were sent to the Burma railroad, some to Changi, one father to Yokohamo as a prisoner of war, and grandpa Corporal Barker died in Parit Sulong. Some soldiers came home. They didn't speak of what they had experienced and seen. Some could only tell some of the story: some didn't come home None of them will be forgotten.'

The story of the massacre at Parit Sulong has been recorded in the book 'The Bridge at Parit Sulong' by Lynette Silver (Watermark Press 2004).

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Prologue by Lieutenant General Peter Leahy AO

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Parit Sulong Memorial

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Kerry Barker at Parit Sulong Memorial