The camp is just buzzing, literally humming with speculation! Yesterday morning we had our usual Friday roll call and afterwards I went along to our distant garden near the cemetery. On my way back at about 11 o’clock I found that everyone seemed to be very excited about something and I soon discovered that the Japs had ordered about 100 technicians amongst the internees, together with their wives and families (if they had any) to pack all their goods and chattels and be ready to go to the Prep School pier at 2.30 that afternoon to embark for an undisclosed destination! I dashed home to see if I had been included as a technical man and was very disappointed to find our names were not on the list.
What a rush! How typical of the Japs to give only a few hours notice. Harold and I with all the other ‘heavy workers’ were told to standby to carry luggage to the Prep School at 2 p.m. This we did – and what luggage. There were quite a few respectable boxes and suitcases but a lot of it was bundles rolled up in blankets and tied with cord. There were camp beds, chairs and even a few double beds! The party assembled by the ration garages where half the camp had assembled to bid them farewell. At about 3 o’clock the Japs lined them up and after a good deal of confusion they arranged them in alphabetical order. What a motley array they were: some looking most respectable and others just the reverse.
Mr Boxer, the University Registrar (who had designated himself Prof. of Engineering) was arrayed in sandals, kahkie shorts, a short sleeved vest and a Trilby hat. He was the piece de resistance! The Director Public Works Mr Purves, Paterson and Pegg, heads of their departments in the P.W.D. were included. Cornell who had called himself Architect and Civil Engineer was included; so also was Mansell, one of the Overseer’s in our Architectural Office. The Pritchards have gone with the rest of the shore staff of the Chinese Maritime Customs. The total number amounted to 178. At about 6 o’clock the labour squads were again called out to move the luggage from the Prep School to the pier. The evacuees were assembled on the lawn on one side of the path and we were lined up on the other side and no communication was allowed between the parties (other than surreptitious signs). The evacuees had been given their evening meal early (at about 2 p.m.) and their iron rations had also been issued to them, but from 2 p.m. onwards until they arrived sometime next day (probably morning) they would have received no more food. I presume drinking water was available at the Prep School.
We found out that none of the baggage had been searched, which was reassuring (this diary will be my chief problem). After waiting some time we shifted the baggage to the pier and then we sat and waited and waited for the arrival of the boat. The Formosan guards were carrying flash lights which didn’t look too reassuring. At 8.30, as it was getting dark, a tubby kind of lighter accompanied by a small pilot launch came round the point and slowly made its way to the pier. It was quite empty and riding very high at the bows (drawing only 3’), which was just as well as the tide was low and there was only just enough water for the boat to get up alongside. Actually we pulled the darned thing alongside and loosely tied it up with two lines at the bow and stern. There are no bollards on the pier and we had to make use of the heads of the wooden balks or piles that supported the pier. Keith Mackie, a young Jardines shipping engineer was just in his element! He took the whole business in hand and issued orders both to us and the crew of the lighter. Eventually we got the thing tied up parallel to the pier but with a gap between, which varied from about 6’ to 9’ according to the inward and outward surge of the boat. Some loose planks were then stretched across this gap and loading operations commenced.
It was the most precarious and Heath Robinson process I have ever seen. Keith and Bill Gillis stood on the planks and swung and pushed up the bags and boxes from those who heaved them off the pier to those who grabbed them on the boat. Gillis was heaving up a fair sized suitcase when the boat surged away from the pier with the result that Gillis, case and plank all disappeared with a big splash. Gillis and the plank (which both floated) were retrieved, but the case sank and I’m afraid some wretched person lost probably the most precious part of their already scanty possessions.
It was pitch dark when we started loading and all operations had to be carried out by flash light and a few hurricane lamps. The Japs had lined up and marched off 100 of the squad, leaving about 70 to do the actual loading, as the pier and boat were too small for a larger number of men to work on. We finally finished at about 10 p.m. and I got back at 10.30. Yvonne had waited up, bless her, and I had my supper in the hall by the feeble glimmer of our oil lamp which happened to have a little oil in it. Well, I got to bed at 11 o’clock, but I hear the wretched evacuees didn’t finally set sail till 3 a.m. in the morning.
We had tried to find out from the Chinese crew of the lighter whither the boat was bound but they kept their mouths tight shut. But the Japanese had sent down to the pier, piles of empty rice sacks and empty oil drums, so we deduce that the boat was going to some place in HK, probably Kowloon. Perhaps we shall hear in a day or so.
As a result of this exodus, several servants’ rooms in these blocks have been vacated and Y and I lost no time in applying for one. This move has given rise to a great deal of speculation and the general feeling is that it is an added sign of the termination of hostilities – are these technicians replacing their Japanese equivilants who are being withdrawn from Hong Kong? But even if we are here for only a few more months, and though a move would involve a good deal of labour, it would be worth while. A little privacy and a small corner we can call our own would be wonderful. Also the move and the settling in would pass the time excellently. But there are only 5 vacant rooms and 250 couples or pairs have applied, so our chances are somewhat slender.
Our double bed will be a problem, but it has distinct possibilities: with ingenuity and some carpentering, I think it could be converted into an article of furniture which would serve as a comfortable couch during the daytime and a double bed at night – ideal for an amah’s room. The allocation will probably be settled by putting names in a hat and drawing (the usual Stanley procedure) unless some are given priority on medical grounds. A rumour is circulating to the effect that a second lot of technicians is to go out in a few days – in that case Yvonne and I may well find ourselves in this second group. What fun! Anything for a change.