Christmas day saw another perfect HK winter day with warm sunshine and, sheltered as were by Ap Li Chau, there was no wind. We were indeed so sheltered that, in the afternoon, we managed to have a swim – albeit in somewhat oily water. Still, as the C.P.O. remarked, it would keep the mosquitoes away. Early in the afternoon rumours of a truce flag at Aberdeen started but stopped as quickly. It was for us the most boring day of the war. There was bombing and shelling going on over the hill but as far as we were concerned we might as well have been out of the war completely. So bored were we indeed that we welcomed a floating barge as a target for Bren and T.G. in which the crew had newly received instruction. The T.M. fire kept on intermittently each one sounding as Collingwood said “like a door slamming”, a very apt description.
((Note in margin: 1515 surrender))
Everyone was thoroughly browned off and even the double issue of rum didn’t help. Later in the afternoon, however, the M.G. fire seemed closer and at 5pm the signal came “Ready”. What was on now? Were we going or was there some job on? Still it was welcome as evidently there was something doing. Soon after No.10 came alongside with the news that HK had surrendered and that we were off. During this parley, figures appeared on the skyline and Legge at once grabbed his Lewis and started in. Luckily, as it turned out afterwards, my Bren had no magazine and by the time it was fitted orders not to fire were given. Evidently they were friends, but as to their identity we were to remain in ignorance as we were ordered to Telegraph Bay to contact the other three boats. As fate would have it, this was the very time our engines would not start and only after towing did they roar into life.
As soon as we started across the entrance to Aberdeen doors started slamming and up went a spout of water about 50 yds off our port bow. Taking the first available cover where I could be out of the way of the crew I found myself behind a depth charge with my Bren peeping coyly over. Following that doors kept slamming but each successive spout of water dropped further astern and thanks to the speed of our craft we were soon over and round the point where we rendezvoused the other two with their crews gorged on a X’mas dinner of chicken, cream etc. (The Dairy Farm was just above).
Obviously we could not move till dusk and we settled down to waiting. Dusk came and still no signal, 7 o’clock, 7.30 and only at 8 after what seemed hours of suspense we received orders to join the others. Out we came in one of the most beautiful evenings I have ever seen in HK. To the west over Lamma there was still a purplish afterglow – the sky was steely clear with odd stars coming out and on the starboard Lantau loomed up a dark purple mass with pinpricks of light at odd intervals. Behind us a building at Pokfulam was madly alight with masses of deep smoke showing up against the sky and beyond farther flames could be seen. There was a curious feeling of tragedy abroad – HK had fallen. Only 17 days and here we were off on a trip to China – for us at least there was the selfish satisfaction of knowing that there were to be no concentration camps.
The flotilla complete (?) we set off and at every angle up to Stanley fires could be seen. At that stage the night was by no means perfect – the moon throwing a path of glittering light, a queer crazy paving of sparkles over our courses. By degrees however it darkened and in the peculiar halflight it was difficult to discern the boat ahead apart from its phosphorescent light.
Only one incident worth recording occurred when well on the starboard bow a searchlight was seen – possibly some Jap. destroyer. Anyway it did not pick us up and in the ever gathering darkness on we went till off Ping Chau we stopped. Mike, Tai and I with Henry Hsu went ashore for any news of any possible Jap. movements in the area and by a stroke of luck Mike and Henry contacted the local guerrilla leader. Mention of Admiral Chan’s name speeded up matters and soon we had moved across to Namo where we disembarked after some hours of packing and stripping the boat of all available gear.
During this period of hurry and rush the most difficult task of all was to prevent the guerrillas, who seemed to have no idea of the old law of mine and thine, from grabbing all and sundry. Anything we did not want was theirs but this did not deter them from having a smack at any available articles especially arms.
Out of all this apparent flurry – junks appeared – kit disappeared aboard them, and the work of scuttling the M.T.B.s was carried out. This proved no easy task and we had to resort to axes. Even as it was when we left they showed no signs of sinking fast. Still it was dawn now and 6.15 saw the last party aboard a very silent launch – vaguely familiar from sailing days as one of the many craft which used to slip out of HK at dusk.