Conditions are easing a little back to normal. To our joy, coolies appeared and began sweeping the garbage into large heaps. Then a Sanitary Department van with a European in charge came to take the rubbish away. To our disappointment, it made only one trip and the district stank as before.
Nephew Fred and I went to the racecourse stands to inquire for his mother, of whom we have had no news since the relief hospital was over-run on Christmas Eve. The place seemed deserted, but as we neared the gate a Japanese N.C.O. suddenly appeared. Hostile, he shouted at us, then beckoned us to approach. We tried in Chinese to explain our mission, but he showed no understanding. The more we tried the more annoyed he became. "Better beat it," I muttered to Fred, "he's getting nasty." But he would not let us go, and continued to shout as we stood silently before him. Then suddenly he said, "Spik Ingrese." We brightened and he grinned. We explained it all again in English. He pointed to a big closed door at the end of the stands. We pushed it open and went in. It was the hospital morgue, with three male bodies lying on tables. We quickly withdrew. He laughed and motioned to the main grandstand. This was deserted and in confusion, beds empty and blankets and furnishings strewn around. We thanked him again and offered him a cigarette, which he refused.
Near the cemeteries outside the grandstand we met Arthur May of the Public Works Department. He had walked across the Island from the Dairy Farm on the south side. He eased our anxiety, had seen Fred's mother at the Queen Mary Hospital.
At the Monument a scene of desolation presented itself. Smashed and burnt vehicles stood about. The buildings had all been peppered with shell-fire, and the Golf Club pavilion and Texas oil station are badly wrecked. Under a truck lay the body of a woman. Presently, a discordant clanking overtook us. Wrecked vehicles were being towed into the centre of the racecourse and dumped there. I failed to recognise mine among them.
Next the ping of rifle shots alerted us and we ducked. But the targets were far away, on the other side of the Valley. The Japanese were firing on the looters whom we could see scurrying for cover on Broadwood Ridge.