6 August 1942

A calamity occurred in my cell this morning.  I had just dozed off after having been wakened at 5 am by the clatter attendant on breakfast preparation when I was rudely shaken into consciousness by a dull explosion.  I was lying with my face to the wall and turning round quickly and raising my head I was astonished to see high up on the opposite wall a large splash of some dark brown fluid splattered in all directions.  It was only  when a second later I felt and saw spots of the same fluid falling on me and the bed clothes that I realised what had happened.  On top of the cupboard above the bed there was a large bottle of soya sauce which I had placed in a lying position and the stuff must have fermented and blew the cork out like a bottle of champagne.  Ye Gods!  What a mess!  The whole cell, floor, walls and ceiling even, was bespattered with soya sauce in varying degree.  My pyjamas, the blankets and the mattress have a large share.  It has taken me the whole morning and forenoon to put things to rights.  I have had to wash my blankets, a big job when you have only one small zinc basin to do the washing and I am hoping for steady sunlight this afternoon to dry them.  Fortunately, the guard was changed a few days ago and I have now dared to hang the blankets out at the window, a proceeding which would have been certain to ensure me some hearty wallops from B the B if he had still been here.  We were let out at 10.30 am today – by mistake.  Few steps along the corridor and we were sent back and locked up again.  The east wing went out and had exercise and handball games in the south west triangle.  I expect it will be our turn this afternoon.  PB has gone and Fatty (our favourite so far) is again in charge.  he took part himself in one of the ball games appearing to enjoy himself hugely and proving himself a good sportsman, taking everything in good part and laughing heartily at his own mistakes.  We feel quite cheered up as a result.  Out wing (the south) was left out this afternoon from 4 to 5.30 as we expected and we had a pleasant time.  We were also exercised in the SW triangle, a run of about 10 times round the field followed by physical jerks.  Two handball games.  Then first bath in two days.  Supper red rice, half duck egg, boiled tapioca and usual veg soup.  Also my extra plate of boiled white rice and 2 bananas.  Exchanged ‘Pimpernel’ with Raymond for Dutch book ‘Onder het juk’ (Yoke of Bondage) by H Bong.

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While waiting in the Head Office of the Bank in Union Terrace to be interviewed for the advertised vacancy my attention was attracted to a man of about 30 years of age engaged in some task at the main counter.  He was of average height, slimly built with very sharp features, keen dark brown eyes and almost black close curling hair.  In fact he attracted me so much that I found myself wishing that I should be engaged if for no other reason than to have the opportunity of making his acquaintance.  It must have been fated, for this was Douglas Campbell who was to become the only real friend I have ever had and whose influence will remain with me all my life.  Doug was a brilliantly clever man with an extensive knowledge and intense appreciation of the arts in general and literature in particular.  He it was who introduced me to the real world of letters and to the higher realms of music, in fact to an appreciation of the higher things of life in general.  If ever there was a square peg in a round hole it was Douglas Campbell in the Aberdeen Savings Bank, although to be quite frank I do not know where exactly he would have fitted in.  He was  a combination  of revolutionary in matters of convention, socialistic idealist and agnostic in belief – and his own worst enemy.  He judged himself very hardly, being extremely sensitive as to his faults, to such an extent in fact that it is my opinion that he would have made much more of his opportunities and abilities if he had not been so critical of his own shortcomings.  His greatest failing was that of indulging in periodical drinking bouts which sometimes lasted for days and which led him into strange and often undesirable company.  He had always spoken to me quite frankly of this failing – but I only saw him once in an intoxicated condition and it almost broke my heart.  He arrived at our house in Sunnybank Place late one evening very badly intoxicated, almost speechless, and I remember mother  having him lie down on a couch in front of the fire while she did all in her power to sober him up as far as possible.  I am not ashamed to admit that I broke down and cried like a child when I saw Doug lying there in that condition.  It was my first experience of an intoxicated person at close quarters, which in itself was a great shock, but the fact that it was this dear friend whom I practically idolised who was in this condition was too much for me.  It was by no means that I had, as one may be inclined to think, discovered my idol to have feet of clay.  That did not enter into my feeling at all.  It was the pity of it all which affected me so strongly, the realisation of the ‘what might have been’' for Doug if he had not been cursed with such a failing.  His friendship meant even more to me that ever after this revelation of human weakness.  It may seem strange that such a friendship should have been possible between a youth of 17 and a man twice his age, but the reason was simple.  Doug had never grown up and his boyish spirits were on many occasions more exuberant than my own.  It was his suggestion, one Sunday when we were walking round by the lighthouse, that we should set his bowler hat on a rock as a target for our marksmanship with throwing pebbles.  We threw stones at that hat for at least half an hour and Doug’s enjoyment at this defiance of such a convential symbol and glee when he scored a hit, were, I believe even greater than my own.  We used to go for long cycle runs together out into the country and there he opened my eyes to the beauties of nature.  For four years I had this wonderful companionship which, towards the end of that period, was more or less interrupted by reason of anther attachment, natural to my years, which I had formed.  It may be foolish of me, but I have always felt that if my allegiance had not been divided, I might have been instrumental in averting the tragedy of Doug’s passing.  Or it was perhaps fated to be so, as Doug himself had a love in his life, the object of which, with characteristic self depreciation, he regarded as one as far beyond the reach of his unworthiness as the stars.  One Sunday his cycle and boots were found on the top of the cliffs between Aberdeen and Cove and it is presumed that he had thrown himself into the sea at that point.  I never heard of his body having been recovered.

Let the following, which I wrote in my notebook at that time, be his epitaph:

The Guide took Youth by the hand and led him down the Way of Life.
And as they went he pointed out on each side many
Doors which Youth had not observed in his impulsiveness
As he impatiently strode along the Way, with
Eyes fixed straight ahead.
And of those doors there were many which stood invitingly open,
Some only half a jar, and a few which were tightly closed.
’By these and these’, said the Guide, pointing to the doors,
’Shalt thou gain what thou most desirest’.
And Youth so journed long by the Way and entered many doors.
Those things which he saw and learned beyond the doors
Made the Way seem a happier and brighter one
Than it had appeared hitherto.
Beauty appeared everywhere – in everything.
And those of the doors which were tightly closed
Yielded the richest treasures.
The Guide was always near, counselling Youth against
Rash and hasty judgment of those things in which
At first glance beauty and purity seemed non existent.
And Youth was I – and the Guide the best friend Youth ever had.

_____

I have lost a friend, a dear friend, and grieve deeply.
I ask myself,’Why do I grieve?’
The answer comes - ‘It is your sense of loss which is causing your grief’.
My sense of loss!  That sounds selfish – and it IS selfish.
Here I am, professing a belief in another and better
World and yet grieving that my friend has crossed
To the happiness and peace of the other side.
I have no cause to grieve for him if this is my belief -
and it IS my belief.
Therefore, what I call my grief is merely a revulsion
Of feeling caused by a selfishness
Which disturbs my mental equilibrium.

Return to 'Sunny Corner'

About 11 am Sunday, a Dutch MP on a motorcycle came to warn us that 'Sunny Corner' was empty and suggesting that we should return to Dennenlust immediately.  We needed no urging.  In record time, the Hillman was loaded up with the dogs, cats, birds, ourselves and sundry articles of baggage and off we set for home, the faithful Amat following on his bicycle.

Our progress up the  Dennenlust road was in the nature of a triumphal procession.  The news had spread and all the folks in the houses on each side of the road smiling and waving to us, from their verandahs, as we came up the hill.

As soon as we had unloaded the car I set out to Dagoweg 31e again to fetch some remaining items.  Coming down the Dagoweg not far from the Borromeus hospital a Dutch MP signaled to me to stop.  When I did so, he informed me that all cars had to be surrendered immediately and that I must get out and leave the Hillman standing at the roadside.

"Have a heart," I said.  "I've just got back my house after being evicted 6 days ago and am bringing my belongings back home," and suggested that he turn a blind eye to the telescope until I had made this one trip.  He was a decent and reasonable chap and agreed, but I had to promise him that I would deliver the car to the Jap authorities at the Technical High School in the Dagoweg the grounds of which were being used as a collecting centre, as soon as I had made the trip.

I got back to Dennenlust in due course with the second load but just as I was leaving again to hand in the Hillman as promised a terrific rainstorm started which continued all afternoon until after dark.  I had strapped my bicycle on to the car as I should have to cycle back, but in such a downpour with a very high wind, I would have been half drowned on the return journey.  I decide, therefore, to deliver the car to the depot early next morning, but when I arrived no Japs were to be seen, although the grounds were full of cars of all description.

The European porter who was still on duty told me that I could put the car there if I liked but I agreed with him that it would be foolish to do so with nobody there to receive it.  He informed me that he had heard that the Japs concerned were to be found in the Ursuline Convent up the road, so I decided to go there and hand over the car as arranged.  But the convent was also void of Japs, so not knowing what to do about the matter and also considering it unwise to continue using the car, I eventually ran it into a garage behind Ena's mother's house and there it remained for some months until the Japanese discovered it in one of their periodical searches and took it away.

'Sunny Corner' was in a bit of a mess after having been occupied by 40 Japanese soldiers for almost a week, but not nearly so bad as might have been expected.  Our carpets particularly had suffered as the Nips had walked over them with their muddy feet and a broad dirty track ran diagonally across the large Chinese carpets in the front room and dining room.  All the furniture had been pushed into corners to achieve sleeping accommodation on the floor and remains of meals and dirty plates were everywhere.  Our lovely little blue and white kitchen with its attractive 'Esse'-Fairy' cooker was a sorry sight.  But actually there was nothing which could not be restored to its former state with time and a lot of elbow grease.

In every room we found bottles of wine and spirits, some empty, many a quarter to half full and a few still unopened.  Outside, at the back, were cases of empty soda water bottles which appeared to have been bought from Penang.  The Japs had certainly done themselves exceedingly well in the liquid refreshment line during their stay.  In fact my first revulsion of feeling at everything Japanese I threw the whole lot out of the house and I am still glad that I did.

The verandah was littered with the remains of what I took to be Japanese emergency rations in the form of some dried and compressed cereals which, with the rain, had swelled into a porridgy unsavoury looking mess.  In our bedroom, which seemed to have been occupied by the Jap officer I found that he had experimented with a few extra safety razors I had and had opened up quite a few packets of spare blades.  We made a clean sweep of everything that had been used by the Japs.

In spite of their having been at pains to impress us that they had kept our belongings intact, it was quite evident that they had literally been through everything although no great damage had been done.  An unused Kodasope 8mm film had been unwound and re-wound and put neatly back into its box, for instance, and traces of their monkey like activities came to light repeatedly during the next few weeks.

Things turned up in the most unexpected places.  One of Ena's bras appeared from her sewing basket.  In taking down a book from one of the bookshelves I got a toothbrush on my head.  Small articles, relegated long ago to the lumber room, were found in cupboards and drawers in the bedroom.  There was strong circumstantial evidence that my kilt and at least one of Ena's evening frocks had been tried on.

All our linen was missing and also one of the heavy curtains from the window in the sitting room, but apart from these items nothing seemed to have been taken.

We had found the Dutch Military Police guarding the house for us on our return and they were most helpful in assisting us to put the house to rights as far as moving back heavy furniture to former positions, etc was concerned and we were most grateful for their help.

***** to be continued