Food now was mainly a rice diet with a small amount of exceptionally thin vegetable soup. As the soup weakened, the quantity decreased. Skin diseases became prevalent but medical supplies were barely sufficient for treatment purposes. Dysentery and malaria began to take their toll. Vitamin and protein deficiencies brought on the dreaded beriberi. Many still suffering from war wounds began to weaken in the trying conditions. Their treatment was as limited as their diet. The Japs simply did not care about the sick, they were still busy getting their war machinery into trim again after the battle down the Malayan mainland. Anything of value to their war aims were shipped to Japan. What was happening behind the barbed wire compound in Changi and elsewhere was no large concern of theirs.

Death claimed more and more victims, the little cemetery outside the perimeter gates, the "Garden of Rest" grew. Small mounds of earth with small wooden crosses at their head; neatly trimmed grass verges. Prisoners carefully tended the cemetery. It became a matter of sad pride for them.

Comrades of the dead were allowed to accompany the funeral parties from camp to cemetery. There were no coffins. Rice sacks stitched together covered the bodies on a lorry chassis with a Union Jack shroud. They were hauled by the funeral parties to the burial scene. The Japs never interfered with the simple ceremonies.

Chaplains were present to recite the burial order, and the bugler was always there to sound "Reveille" and "The Last Post". The sombre notes rang out through the whole camp, piercing the thin air with a terrible poignancy, stirring the hidden wall of tears. Each man silently asked himself "Shall I be the next". Death struck swiftly and without much warning. It was a struggle for all to exist and in that desperate battle, food was necessarily a major concern. The meagre rations seemed but a mockery of hoped-for strength; an invitation for death to pounce at will. The Japs ordered the working parties to the docks to load and unload their war goods. Java and Sumatra we knew now had gone the way of Malaya and Singapore.

Men passing through the streets of Singapore saw ghastly ghoulish sights. Scores of Chinese were beheaded as they tried to befriend Commonwealth prisoners. Heads lay in the blood-stained gutters, others were perched monstrously on top of the street bollards and traffic lights. Japs swords streamed with the blood of atrocities. This was a warning to the rest of the Chinese of what to expect if they had the temerity to show mercy to the conquered.

The endless days and weeks passed and we did our best to relieve the tension. Cricket matches helped. They were played on a ground adjoining the camp, there was plenty of tackle for cricket; clearly it was of no use to the Japs or it would have gone the way of other things. Sometimes an eleven from the nearby Australian lines was allowed in to challenge us to a game. Their team included a former Test player.

For a time the Japs had not interfered unduly with camp life, although there had been periodical checks. Then, out of the blue, they introduced a "No Escape" document and ordered every prisoner to sign. This was a bare faced denial of the law covering prisoners of war.

Our Commanding Officers refused to have anything to do with it and told the Japs so without mincing words. Officers instructed every one in Changi camp not to sign.

The refusal had the Japs commanders hopping mad. In retaliation, they forced all camp personnel to leave their quarters. The ruthless orders included the sick.

Everybody had to move a little way down Changi Road to the barracks housing Australian prisoners. Thousands of men were packed into this area without the slightest concern over their living conditions. If there was no room for them in the near bulging barracks they had to live in the open. The scene on the barracks square became reminiscent of a shanty town, makeshift cookhouses and operating theatres sprang up. Men dug latrines in the concrete surfaced square. Many latrines had to be dug near the cookhouses. Apart from all this food was even more strictly rationed. The Japs were putting on the strangle hold. Conditions became chaotic. The sick were suffering agonies. Water stocks ran perilously low, but the Japs refused to sanction replenishments.

Surgeons, doctors and medical orderlies worked with great gallantry in the shockingly overcrowded hospital section. Operations were performed to prolong life - a crushing irony it seemed, when the Japs were doing all in their power to squeeze every ounce of resistance from prisoners, but this had to end. It was clear that the Japs had no intention of relaxing their ferocious grip, Allied Officers decided that prisoners had endured as much as humanly be expected. The order was given that all should sign the "No Escape" document. The officers said that no one had to take notice of the contents of the document. About 20,000 signatures were obtained. After that we were released at once and allowed to return to our former quarters.

Now camp searches by the guards were stepped up, but those who had smuggled small arms and radio equipment into the camp were never found out. They discovered some ingenious places for hiding their possessions. A small working radio set was kept in a cavity under the floor of the hut. The guards marched over that floor many times, but searched in vain. Sten gun parts, carefully greased and wrapped in anti-gas capping were buried. Cameras, protectively wrapped, were put in tin boxes and hidden under the flag stones in the hut used as a clothing store.

I celebrated my birthday, my first in a prisoner of war camp in August. My friends surprised me by baking a cake in a make-shift oven. They saved a little cooked rice from their rations and managed to scrounge some rice ground into powder and made it into a sort of dried biscuit. The powdered rice and the cooked rice were mixed together and small pieces of coconut added. Somehow, god knows how, the lads got a small piece of chocolate. This was melted and when the cake was baked and cooled, the words "Happy Harry" were iced on top. The lads produced the cake at the evening meal. I am not ashamed to say that their kindness brought tears to my eyes. The cake was rough and tasteless, but I described it as a feast fit for a king. We sliced it up and, as many as possible joined in the birthday "banquet". This was comradeship, and I was proud to be with such men.

It was about this time that groups of prisoners began to be taken from the camp to join other working battalions in Thailand. Each time a party left rumours increased that conditions and food were much better in Thailand than they were in Singapore. In September a batch of prisoners were detailed to Thailand and I was among them.