Singapore Sling Shot - Andrew Grant [17]
Standing in front of the small artillery piece mounted below the fire tower, I looked down the steep, tree-covered cliff towards the water. Below I could make out a building painted in shades of green, situated at water level. It was either a supply landing area or a water-level observation post in the form of a blockhouse or bunker. That being the case there had to be a way down to it.
Stepping a couple of paces to my right, I saw the ladder. It was one of those ones that had circular frames set at intervals down it to stop clumsy oafs falling off. Like the building below, it had originally been painted green, now it was mostly rust-coloured, however it looked strong enough to hold me. The only problem was the metal plate padlocked over the top where the ladder met the railing at the edge of the terrace. I figured that it would be easy enough to swing around the plate and get up to where I was standing. So now I had one possible means of getting myself into the fort through the back door.
Our guide was looking slightly nervous. Simone’s attempts at distraction had worked to a point, but Wenn obviously took her guide role very seriously. Was I planning to jump? I could see that thought plainly reflected on her pretty face. If I did jump here it was broken limb territory only. I made a show of stubbing out my cigarette and joined them.
Now we had come down to the fire tower via a long open-topped tunnel, if you can call it a tunnel. It was more a very deep concrete trench with a mesh grill across the top. Going back, Wenn led us up a whole bunch of steps. We emerged on the hill above the control tower. Jungle fringed in on both sides of the long grassed spur that ran back into the fort complex. This would be the perfect place for a watcher to hide both from fort staff and the public. There was an old guy using a rake further along the spur towards the buildings. Beyond him the roadway curved on upward to more buildings, Fort Siloso Square my fort leaflet said. A few people were getting off the busy little tram up beyond that. Apart from these folks, there was no one else to be seen.
I didn’t even try to spot anyone in the bush. Instead, I adjusted the pixel level on my camera to full out and took shots across the harbour. Then I made a show of posing the laughing Simone and Wenn close together and photographed them both with the water as a backdrop and with the road and fort buildings behind them. I used the widest lens setting so that I could obtain shots down both fringes of jungle. Maybe later, using a computer and the ten-plus megapixel images, we could pump things up and see if we could spot someone hiding amongst the foliage.
I continued to pose the girls and take photos as we meandered on through the various displays with their commentaries and that damned music. If it had really been as noisy back then, I think I would have preferred being in battle.
Eventually, having explored right up to the high point of the fort complex, we made our way down the wooden boardwalk to The QuarterMaster Store. Here I thanked our young guide for the tour and told her we would take in the surrender rooms by ourselves.
Access to the second level of the building was via stairs at either end. I led us to the right. An invalid lift was in operation. An elderly European man in a wheelchair was coming down. We waited while he was off-loaded by a guide and a middle-aged female companion. Perhaps a daughter! From the man’s comments, I deduced he had been a prisoner here during the war. This must have been a bittersweet return for him. I just hoped his nightmares didn’t come back to haunt him because of it. This place had been a living hell for so many—I’d learnt that for a fact this day.
I led Simone up the broad stairs to the double doors. I noted that there was a standard deadbolt fitted as I opened one wing of the door, ushering my twittering