The Plantation - Di Morrissey [89]
We knew there was a lot of intelligence gathering from behind enemy lines, and, when we heard about Force 136, both Bill and I latched onto the idea of joining it as a way of being more useful.
‘Force 136 is training and sending men into Japanese-occupied territory. What they need are local people like us who know the country, the jungle, the interior, and have local contacts,’ I told Bill.
‘Sounds like a good thing to do,’ said Bill. ‘No one else has valued our local knowledge.’
So we decided to make pests of ourselves until we were eventually asked to join the special intelligence unit and we were flattered by our reception.
‘You’re just the sort of chaps this unit needs,’ said the CO. ‘You know the people, speak the language and understand the natives.’
Bill and I felt greatly pleased that our local knowledge was to be put to use.
‘What do you need us to do?’ I asked.
‘As you two would know,’ explained the CO, ‘prior to the outbreak of war there were several communist cells in Malaya formed for the express purpose of getting rid of the British. Well, things have changed. Most of the commies are Chinese and many of them have decided that the Japanese are worse enemies than the British, so they have proposed a truce.’
‘I’m not surprised by that change of heart, sir,’ I responded. ‘How are you able to use it to your advantage?’
‘As a fifth column. They can get about the country behind enemy lines. They are saboteurs, but this is not their main function because we know that the Japs retaliate to that sort of thing with dreadful reprisals, so we primarily use the communists as intelligence gatherers in preparation for an Allied invasion.’
‘What do you want us to do? Act as go betweens?’ asked Bill.
‘More or less. We’ve got several chaps working with communist units, but we want you to try and make contact with one of our chaps in particular. He’s been working in the central mountains, staying with the Orang Asli, in one of their villages, but we haven’t heard from him for quite some time. The communist unit he was working with was extremely effective, and we would like to make contact with it again as well as finding out what happened to our man, Roger Burrows.’
‘How do we find this village and the communist unit, and what makes you think they will trust us?’ I asked.
‘I don’t think trust will be a problem. Here, I’ll show you on a map where Roger’s village is.’
When the CO pointed out the place, Bill shouted, ‘I know that place. I’ve even been there a couple of times, doing some research for the DO, counting heads, that sort of thing. I can even talk a bit of their lingo.’
‘Excellent. We’ll try and get you in there as soon as we can.’
Our training was brief and before we knew it we were dropped behind enemy lines, with limited rations and a radio, into what was once our own country. Unfortunately for us, we were dropped near the coast rather than in the mountains. The weather had unexpectedly closed in, making things very difficult for the pilot, but good for us, as the low clouds and the dark night protected us as we landed.
It was strange to be on the run, crawling on hands and knees through the undergrowth, slashing our way through mangroves, sinking in mud, skirting kampongs and slinking through plantations where once we had walked as tuan besars. We knew we were never far from the enemy.
‘Even when we can’t see them,’ said Bill.
At one stage, stopping in a small clearing, we ate some of our rations. We could see a Japanese watchtower in the distance, built of bamboo and giving a good view of the trunk road. But we managed to skirt it easily by keeping to the trees. The night was chilly and damp and, with no fire, very uncomfortable.
‘What is hard to swallow is that we can no longer trust the local people,’ said Bill. ‘An Indian riding his bicycle along the road, a woman carrying water, a coolie collecting firewood, they could all turn us in.’
And, because we were carrying a radio, we knew the Japs would have no mercy and not bother with taking us