The clean white buildings of our new camp, set high on the island's interior and surrounded by delightfully laid out green lawns, were our sleeping, eating and working quarters. There was little activity at first, apart from getting our organisation into working order and removing stores and equipment from the docks. The days were hot. Every evening, always at the same time, at 6 o'clock, the rains came - torrentially. It was not long before Nippon aircraft began seeking out the island's targets. Raids became more frequent.

What turned out to be my last air-mail letter home was typed as an India bearer cooked a meal over a charcoal fire in the doorway of the office block and enemy planes were dropping their medium bombs on nearby Singapore. The sound of bursting bombs came nearer. It was unpleasant, but I had no great sense of foreboding. All would be well I thought. Everyone knew Singapore was heavily defended. Impregnable, everybody said.

Orders had come for us to move and I had sneaked the opportunity of sending a letter to my wife before we moved off. I sat down at a typewriter and put down most of the items of news I could remember since our arrival at Singapore. One letter was dated February 5th, 1942. It caught the last plane out of Singapore. I wrote: "I cannot say where I am, but I presume you have guessed..... I have not worked so hard in my life, and in the fairly high temperature you can well imagine the amount of perspiration. My waistline is gradually diminishing." (It was to diminish very rapidly in the next few months.) I went on, "The Japs have given us a reception every day, but so far it has not been too bad. I can hear the coastal batteries quite plain. They are cracking away day and night". I mentioned my visit to the docks and wrote, "It was a sorry sight to see women and children, coloured and white being evacuated by ship. Isn't war a tragedy? People forced to leave their homes and belongings to get away from greedy fanatics out to grab as much territory as possible". I told my wife in that letter that a bomb had been dropped on a golf course not far from the camp. It left a crater near a large sign which read "PLEASE WALK QUICKLY". I mentioned that I had not yet had any mail from home. It was, indeed, a long time before I received any.

Mention of the evacuation of civilians from Singapore reminds me now of how many of the well-to-do drove up to the harbour in fine cars, and handed to us their ignition keys before boarding evacuation ships. There were such comments as "Have a good time in my car. It's filled with petrol" or "Look after it until we return". None of the owners ever saw their cars again. As the evacuation steadily increased so did the row of cars along the harbour side. The Japs were to confiscate them all. Our small H.Q. unit of clerks and storesmen was ordered to assemble in light battle order. We were detailed to a small defensive post on the north side of the island. We were to dig in and hold a point on the road leading to the Causeway and overlooking Johore Straights. Tents were flung up and the field cookhouse was soon turning out its tea brew and preparing for an evening meal. Enemy bombers passed overhead and from time to time we saw some of our own few spotter planes making for the mainland to find targets for the British artillery units. But our small unit remained out of touch with enemy land forces. On the journey up someone in the party - it was 30 strong - had suggested that it was merely a defensive exercise. The equipment we carried included side pack containing toilet requisites, eating utensils and the usual odds and ends. We also each had a rifle, a Tommy gun, and ammunition for both weapons. We left all our kit and personal belongings behind and we never saw it again. This was for me the start of a completely new life which was to last for three and a half years. We manned shallow trenches overlooking the road, and taking turns of two and two about we watched day and night .... five days and four nights. Night guard duty was difficult. It was impossible to listen attentively for the approach of the enemy because of the incessant croaking of bull frogs. They croaked on and on, until one felt anybody could have stalked into the camp without being heard. It was unpleasant to reflect that the Japs were experts in stealth.

On the 5th day late in the afternoon, a dusty despatch rider pulled up with a screech of brakes to tell us that the Japs were breaking through on the mainland and were not far from the Causeway. I supposed that information gave us our first real feelings of alarm, what about the island's impregnable defensive barrier? Surely the big guns on the island will stop the Japs, odd, come to think of it, that no one had heard those guns belching any thunder towards the mainland. It was not until sometime later that we heard that the whole sorry story of the gun mountings that faced the direction out to sea, the island defensive planners had thought that any attack would come from the sea and an attack was impossible by the Malayan route. The Japs came in by the Malaya route with fantastic speed and success, and the forthcoming conquest would have been farcical had it not been tragic. Late at night our party moved off again. The Japs were coming away to our right. We scrambled hurriedly into waiting lorries. As we left the camp in the darkness, small arms fire burst around the last departing vehicle. We had a nightmarish journey bumping through the island's plantations, bumping over rough ground we bucked over cart roads, eventually pulling up on a hill side overlooking the Bukit Timah road and in the darkness we dug new trenches. The hillside led up to what had once being a military hospital. When dawn came we saw the red cross flag. The light also reviewed our chaotic trench digging had been. If firing orders had been given during darkness our party would massacred by one another. The trenches were suicidal placed almost on top of each other. We grabbed tools and re-dug adequately spaced trenches with a proper field of fire and an excellent command of the road below and the woodland to the right, expertly camouflaged under the heavily branched trees, twenty two-pounder guns of the artillery scanned the roadside position below. There we waited manning our trenches. In the next few days there were aerial incursions by the enemy over the island. Occasionally there was the ping of a rifle shot from a Japanese sniper in the woods. Some of us scrounged through deserted hospital quarters, blood stained bandages, bedding, surgical equipment, clothing and tin food that had been left behind. Everything was scattered about the wards. Since our cook house rations were now running low we gladly scooped up tins of bully beef, biscuits and tin fruit from the hospital. The Jap sniper in the trees was joined by others and they began to fire on our positions more regularly. A few of us were keen on going out and searching for them under the cover of darkness in an attempt to annihilate them. Our officer in command was definitely against the idea and we had to obey and stayed put. Mortar fire from the enemy warmed up. There was no sleep as we crouched in our trenches to escape the flying shrapnel. More and more mortar shells began to whistle through the valley and with increasing effectiveness. We kept our fingers on the trigger ready for the enemy rush that seemed sure to come but we never took any real part in any action.

Commonwealth troops grimy from battle, staggered down the road towards Singapore. The trudging defeated men were making their way to any haven they could find. They found none. Now came the rumours that the Japs had overrun the island. The reservoirs were captured and water supply cut off, it was said. More rumour and more; then there was none. Just the grim, nagging certainty that the end had come for Singapore. We felt it in the belly as well as in the mind. The 15th day of February dawned with nothing to mark it from the others before. The warm sun shone from the blue sky on the green banks and the lovely foliage of the trees; one might almost have been in England. Suddenly, an open tourer car with a British flag fluttered on the off side and a white flag on the near side screeched up the road from the direction of Singapore. Its horn blared out incessantly, a chilling noise. A senior officer sat right by the side of the driver , the car hurtled out of sight. The white flag could mean only one thing. It was sometime before the car came tearing back soon there was no doubt left in anyone's mind the island had surrendered. Conditions in the town were chaotic we heard. It was packed with refugees, its hospitals were crammed with patients.

The artillerymen at the foot of the hill began to spike their guns. It was the sight that brought a squeamish feeling to the pit of the stomach. Men cursed, then became silent and morose. I laid down to rest bemused. What was next step to be? It seemed better not to dwell on it. We were prisoners of war. Just what would that mean? Someone optimistically suggested we would be well looked after under the Geneva Charter, but nobody seemed to know much about it. The last command message from Major General Keith Simmonds to be read to all troops on the cessation of hostilities was as follows: "After weeks of anxious and steadfast watching you have taken your turn in the fighting on Singapore island. Some of you have done your part most gallantly on the mainland. Throughout the operations on Singapore Island, I can only thank you for your gallant efforts to stem the attack. You have had little support from the air. You had been outnumbered and outgunned. Not- withstanding this you have borne yourself magnificently. Remember this in your hour of trial: you have done your part, your best and you have no need to blame nothing on yourself. Keep your spirits up, good times will come again." The order to cease fire read: "Hostilities will cease at 20.30 hours tonight the 15th February 1942. Troops will remain in the present positions and will not, repeat not, move without orders from this headquarters. Arms will be collected as far as possible in unit areas. There will not, repeat not, be any destruction of ARMS, EQUIPMENT, MAPS OR RECORDS. General Percival's last message read: "It has been necessary to give up the struggle but I want the reason explained to all ranks. The forward troops continued to hold their ground but the essentials of war have run short. In a few more days we should have neither petrol nor food. Many types of ammunition are short and the water supply upon which the vast population and many of the fighting troops are dependent threatens to fail. This situation has been brought about partly by being driven off dumps and partly by enemy air or artillery action. Without these sinews of war we cannot fight on, I thank all ranks for their efforts throughout the campaign. Signed A E Percival, Lt. General, General Officer Commanding, Malaya Command."

Two days later after watching load after load of dusty troops of the victorious Japanese army move down the road, we were herded together. The Japanese, as they passed took small notice of us. We thought they were a sorry looking lot of little men but what ever they looked like they were now the top dog. We set off for the long march to Changi, a camp in the north.