It aint 'arf 'ot
a continuation of "A Signalman Remembers"
I returned to my old job,I had been in the Fire Service since1944, acquired a girl friend with a commitment to buy an engagement ring when I could afford it and tried to settle down but I was not yet twentyone and the thought of spending the rest of my life struggling to make mortgage payments and support a family became less and less attractive. A few months after my return I saw an advert in the paper ,the Federation of Malaya Police were calling for recruits. My application was in the post that night and five weeks later I was on my way back to Malaya leaving my girlfriend with vague promises which fortunately she didn’t believe.
“Fasten your seatbelt please Sir,"we are about to take off” the trim figure of The BOAC Stewardess proceeded up the aisle as I snuggled back into the luxurious armchair type seat of the Constellation sniffing ,appreciatively,the faint odour of lavender left behind. Was it Company policy or personal choice that BOAC Stewardesses in those days always wore lavender perfume ? Whatever,I approve,as a first time flyer it had a calming effect;a well remembered norm in an alien environment. The seats were arranged in groups of four which made for conversation,most annoying as all I wanted to do was savour my new status as a Police Lieutenant in the Federation of Malaya Police and watch the world go by out of the window. Arriving at Rome we were all loaded onto buses and given a tour of the city and had our lunch,a basket of roast chicken,salad and bread with a bottle of chianti each. Embarking some two hours later we arrived in Cairo at dusk and spent the night in a hotel with the option of a visit to a nightclub or the pyramids,to my eternal regret I opted for the nightclub and have never seen the pyramids by moonlight. After another stopover,in Colombo,we arrived in Singapore three days after leaving London,a great way to travel.
As the door of the Constellation swung open the steamy atmosphere of Singapore rushed in and by the smell the tide was out as well.As I walked across the tarmac to the Airport building and felt the sweat begin to gather between my shoulder blades I realised the even though I had only been away a short time my body was quite unprepared for the change of climate. Passing through the Customs barrier I was accosted by a short scrawny man “Cole”? yes I said”Rufus”.”I’m Ron,come in the bar and we’ll have a beer whilst we wait for your luggage, I am stationed here to look after you chaps as you come through,so far you are about the seventh”. Whilst the drinks were coming I took a careful look at Ron,he had a general unkempt appearance and there was a strong smell of alcohol coming off him,also he was sweating a lot which in the tropics,for an old hand, is usually the sign of a very heavy drinker. Ron said “you’ll be going out to Changi whilst I get things sorted out for you and there should be a couple of other chaps joining you within the next couple of days” “Whats the point of going all the way out to Changi ? it would be more convenient if you booked me into a hotel here in town”. “Hotel ! you are going to the Army Barracks like all the other poor barstards” I had a sudden sinking feeling,was this appropriate accommodation for a Police officer,a Lieutenant no less. As the lowest form of Army life,a National Serviceman,my first accomodation in S.E.Asia was at Changi Barracks and it seemed I hadn’t advanced very far. Ron had finished his beer and suggested another one,it was only three in the afternoon and from previous experience I knew that day drinking in these temperatures was not something I could handle so I made some noises about collecting my luggage, this was dismissed with a wave of the hand and two more beers appeared. This second beer caught up with the alcohol Ron already had on board and he suddenly launched into a long dissertation on the hardships and dangers of being a Police Lieutenant and of being Police Lieutenant Ron in particular. By the time we left the bar I was hoping that BOAC had forgotten to unload my luggage and I could insist that they sent me back to UK to collect it,no such luck.
The accommodation at Changi was single rooms in a Sergeants Mess and included dining facilities and use of the bar. The place was a sort of transit point with constant coming and going of armychaps none of whom seemed to stay very long. After booking me in and getting me a pass so that I could move in and out of the area at will Ron left me saying that he had to meet two more arrivals on the following day after which he would get me,and the others,’organised’. Ron apparently lived elsewhere although he was vague as to just where this was. The flight from Colombo and the beers at the airport was beginning to take it’s toll so I cancelled dinnner,had a shower and went to bed. Although I felt exhausted sleep was hard to come by as I lay there and wondered just what I had let myself in for.
After breakfast the following morning I felt more cheerful having decided that Rons graphic ramblings were the result of too much beer and a desire to impress a new chum,how wrong I was. Late that afternoon Ron and the two new chaps turned up and by the condition of Ron and the numbed look on the faces of the other two, their welcome to Singapore had been the same as mine. Both the new chaps were considerably older than me,ex Army Sgts.,but neither had been East before so my previous Malayan experience evened up the difference between us. Ron told us that tomorrow we would be measured for our uniforms at a tailors in town but as he had other things to do he couldn’t say what time this would be,,just wait till he turned up. That evening the main topic amongst the three of us was Rons stories,as the Malayan ‘expert’ I was called upon for comment and although I tried to be optimistic,ever present,at the back of my mind,were memories of those Pahang roads.
We arrived at the tailors at about 4pm,a typical Chinese shophouse with the boss and family living up stairs and the workers sleeping amongst the machines when the days work was over and the shutters went up. At the back of the shop was a round table with four or five stools and a fridge full of beer where we sat and drank whilst waiting to be measured,nobody paid so I suppose it was all part of the service.The measurements took about one and a half hours to complete which allowed for a considerable reduction in the contents of the fridge but as it was at the tail end of the day and the temperature was falling to something close to bearable I was,for the first time,beginning to enjoy a beer in Singapore. Rons day had obviously been more exacting than ours and two beers into the tailors supply he became very apologetic about the way he had treated us,disappearing for long periods and turning up late, it was,he said,due to the fact that he had been in a road ambush and left for dead for several hours before help had arrived.After his wounds healed and he left hospital he found he could no longer cope with active duty involving jungle and road patrols,his nerve had gone. By taking the posting in Singapore he felt he had deserted his mates but he knew he couldn’t go back so spent most of his days drinking,waiting for his contract to finish. With Ron in this apologetic mood all the questions we had been wanting to ask since our arrival came pouring out but it was soon apparent that Ron wasn’t the man to answer them,everything was “you’ll find that out when you get to Kuala Lumpur”. However we did learn that we would go by night mail train to K.L. and that before we left we would be issued with sidearms,Browning 9mm pistols,but would not be given these until we got on the train,it was “orders”. The tailor had already told us that the uniforms would be ready in two days time so on that note we split up,we three back to Changi and Ron to wherever on the understanding that he would pick us up the day after tomorrow at 3pm to collect our uniforms.
In my army career in Malaya I had,several times,done courier duty on the night mail from Singapore and was well aware that it was one of the terrorists favourite targets for ambush and was derailed and shot up quite often,this in spite of having a heavy escort of troops,some in armoured wagons front and back. My two companions were not aware of the hazards of the night mail but I soon enlightened them and suggested that we put some pressure on Ron to gain acces to our weapons and get some practice in before leaving.I had never fired a pistol in my life and the two ex Sgts.had only slight knowledge of the Army .38,totally different from the Browning semi automatics we were getting. As usual,Ron was late but as soon as he arrived we tackled him about our pistols but to no avail,”orders”were that under no circumstances were we to have access until on the train. After much heated debate Ron finally agreed that after we had collected our uniforms he would take us to the armoury where we could inspect his Browning and he would give us a brief run down on it,practice firing was definitely out of the question, with this we had to be satisfied. Having collected our uniforms we went straight to the railway station where Ron booked us on the nightmail for the following evening,2nd.class. By this time it was too late for our visit to the armoury so it was put back to the following morning. Being our last night in Singapore I suppose we should have celebrated a bit but we were too busy wondering what we had got ourselves into for more than an evening in the mess and large quantities of beer,which failed to disperse the general air of doom and gloom.
Ron arrived on time for a change with the remainder of our uniforms comprising shoes,hat,badges etc.and off we went for our pistol lesson. In the armoury we received another shock,our pistols were still as they were shipped from Canada,smothered in grease and wrapped in brown paper and that is how they would remain until they were handed to us on the train,”orders”! As I recalled, from the time we left Singapore station and cleared the Johore Bahru station on our way to K.L. would be about one hour which,if we were organised, would be just about enough time to clean the Brownings and get them in some sort of working order. In retrospect and considering the size of the train escort it was extremely unlikely that any terrorist attack would be pressed so closely that pistols would be of any use but our rising sense of despair precluded any sensible reasoning,to have those weapons operational by the time we left Johore Bahru became our one aim in the short time left. For cleaning materials we chose lighter fluid and the ubiquitous ‘Good Morning Towel’ (the Asian answer to milkcrates although it was to be a few years before milkcrates appeared) plus toothbrush and chopsticks,for barrel cleaning;at the last moment one of us had enough sense to buy a tin of sewing machine oil as well. Our preparations worked well and our firearms were in working order shortly after leaving Johore Bahru but in the event the journey was comparatively quiet except for a few shots fired near Tampin which broke two windows but did no other damage.My two companions were rather scathing about my pre train ‘panic’,I never met them again after we arrived in K.L.but a few days later the nightmail was derailed and a firefight of several hours ensued,I hope they heard the news! We were met by an officer who after checking our names directed us to various vehicles parked in the station forecourt,mine was a Chev troop carrier with a four man escort,Klang was the destination. I took the opportunity to practice my Army acquired Malay but without much success although I did manage to get a stop at a coffee shop,it was early morning and I hadn't had breakfast, by promising to foot the bill for everybody. Chinese coffee shop coffee has never received the recognition it deserves,thick,bitter,topped up with condensed milk there is nothing better. I felt sorry for my superior officer when I met him,his desk was piled high with files ,his ashtray full of half smoked Capstans and a constantly ringing phone. We were both relieved when,after a few preliminaries, I was directed to the Chief Clerk who "would get me organised". Mr.Singam was a very efficient and charming chap,Malayan Civil Service on secondment, who soon had me organised with pay and a Bank to put it in. Upon his advice and direction I walked down the street and bought a pair of basketball shoes,made in Klang and very good quality, because "jungleboots we are not having" The police store managed to find one set of jungle greens that were acceptable if nothing else was available but I was to find that"not having" was pretty standard in the Police Force at this time,my final issue was a stengun that looked a s though it had won WW2 all on it's own. By now it was mid afternoon and I still had no idea what my fate was to be so I bade farewell to Mr.Singam and returned to the OCPDs office,the OCPD wasn't there but had left a note with his secretary,a sympathetic planters wife who,together with Mr.Singam,gave me the impression that they knew something I didn't, The note read "have arranged transport for you to Joes place,help him out until I get something more permanent for you. Leave to arrive before dark. You will like Joe" The sympathetic planters wife told me that Joe was stationed some 25 miles south of Klang and that I should leave immediately so that my transport could get back to Klang before dark.
Joe was a lean man of medium height,ex Royal Marine,Police Sergeant and recently reclassified to Police Lieutenant. His Police career already spanned some twelve months which had given him a rather pessimistic view of life and he was less than happy to have to wet nurse someone who he looked upon as a liability,even if it was only to be for a short time. The Jungle Squad ( a common name given to these small units although,at this time, much of their activity was confined to the rubber and oil palm estates and the jungle fringes bordering them) comprised about 25 Special Constables led by Joe and his Sergeant,a Javanese by the name of Mat Piah,a short stocky man,very brave,always smiling, who ruled the troops with a rod of iron. Mats' jungle hat was too big for him so he wore it with the brim tucked up inside except at the front which formed the peak,from a distance he looked like something the Japanese Army had left behind.Accomodation was in a typical two storey brick house built on many Rubber Estates for Managers,living quarters upstairs,bathroom and kitchen downstairs,sited some fifty yards off the main road with the nearest neighbours two miles further down the road in a small village. Joe lived upstairs whilst the Squad lived downstairs and in what had been the servants quarters at the rear;downstairs was heavily sandbagged on all four sides as was the upper verandah which jutted out from the main building. As a Managers residence the house had it's own 32volt lighting but the generator had since been removed so although the switches,lamp holders and bulbs were still in place,oil lamps were the only means of illumination at night. A low barbed wire fence surrounded the house but without perimeter lighting was not much of a deterrent although,I was told, enemy activity so far had been confined to odd shots from the other side of the road! As Joe explained,the Squads main role at this time was the night road patrol (see Phantom GMC) plus rapid response when not so engaged but,for the moment,foot patrols and ambush stakeouts were being handled by others. That evening saw the start of my police career accompanying Joe on patrol,later on I came to realise how lucky I had been to have teamed up with a man of Joe's experience right at the start,many newcomers were just dumped in some isolated spot with a bunch of men whose language they couldn't speak and told to get on with it. In the following two weeks,just in casual conversations, I learnt things that were to prove useful if not indespensable for my continued existence during the next few years such as:
"Jungle Squad postings are best,you are always in the company of
armed men you have trained yourself and a lot of the time you are
walking,the safest way to get around in this country"
"Have as few Stenguns as possible, the bullet is liable to jam in the
barrel"
"Avoid a posting to Estate duties,most of the time you will be travelling,
regularly,on routes that have no alternative in soft skinned vehicles
visiting Special Constables on static guard duties who are either bored
or frightened or both and dealing with Estate Managers who are all
honorary police officers and,most of them, consider the Special
Constables their own private army"
"If you do get Estate duties take out some insurance. Go to the biggest
village in your area and run up a large bill for food and grog with the
largest Chinese shopkeeper,always keep your account in debit.He,the
shopkeeper,might see you as an investment and do his best to keep
you alive. Not guaranteed but you have to buy your food and grog from
somewhere".
The following two weeks passed in a blur of night patrolling during which I alternated between fear and excitement with a lot of "what the hell have I got myself into" in the quiet periods. Morning afters were taken up with administrative stuff,a large breakfast during which post mortems were held and then a sluice down out of the water tank and bed before it got too hot to sleep. My state of mind during this period worried me quite a lot,as patrol time approached I became more and more tense,to the point of feeling quite sick;this before the shooting had even started ! Things came to a head on my fifth or sixth patrol when we had our first contact, from the following Landrover I saw the GMCs'brake lights come on before I heard the shooting, my driver immediately stopped and the Bren gunner behind me (I was in the front seat) started firing in short bursts over my head. I had no idea what to do so just sat there, where we were,what the road was like and what was on either side of the road was unknown to me,it was like being in a dark room with a hell of a racket going on without any idea of where the furniture,doors and windows were. Eventually I recovered and shouted to the driver to take a position in the ditch on his side and watch for infiltrators whilst I jumped into the ditch on my side,we were both carrying Stenguns, meanwhile the Brengunner,a young Special Constable, was carrying on like a veteran,short controlled bursts as per the book. One of my fears was that we had stopped in a cutting but now that I was down on the ground I could see that we had level ground on both sides with a good field of fire should anybody come for us, I shouted to the Brengunner, "Baik?" (OK) who responded with a rather disdainful "Banyak Baik" (very OK),at this point the firing eased and stopped. I heard Joe shouting "come up"so leaving the Landrover where it was I walked to the GMC to find the crew searching the roadsides for bodies,none were found and as it was too dark to go further off the road Joe decided to report in at the next Police Post we passed and leave the follow up to someone else once it got light;nothing was found in the follow up except firing positions for about six. For the remainder of the night's patrol I analysed my reactions to the ambush, had I been too slow ? how long had I sat there frozen ? The driver and gunner were experiencing the euphoria that follows a succesful contact and chattering to each other nineteen to the dozen,occasionally they addressed a remark to me but they were talking so fast that the little Malay I knew at that time was unable to cope,however,I took it as a good sign that they were including me in the conversation; maybe I hadn't stuffed up so badly after all! The rest of the night passed uneventfully and we arrived back at base at the usual time, Joe ordered everyone to breakfast and then de-breifing at 10am. Over breakfast I told Joe about my initial reactions when the firing started and suggested that it might be due to the fact that,never having seen the country we patrolled in daylight, from the time we left base to our return I had little idea of where we were or what the roads were like. Joe was quite understanding although he was more concerned with how the driver and gunner reacted to my indecision, I was able to reassure him citing the gunners calm and controlled use of the brengun and the drivers instant compliance with my order to take a defensive position on the side of the road, by breakfast end Joe had promised to do a day patrol as soon as it could be fitted in but it would require both vehicles,Landrover and troop carrier, plus half the squad and would take time to arrange; in the event I never did get my day trip for a few days later my posting came through but not before another contact on our night patrol resulting in one CT killed without loss to us.
Kampong Sekinchan,my posting, was a harsh introduction to life in the Malayan Police and if I had not treated it as a good opportunity to learn to speak Malay I doubt I would have been able to stick it out. Located some 15 miles North of Kuala Selangor on the coast ( the last five miles of road ran along the top of the earth bund constructed to keep high tides back and was impassable by vehicles after rain ) the village comprised a couple of shops and a few houses all of plank and attap construction with, on the sea side, impenetrable mangroves whilst inland from the village to the jungle edge,about a mile, and stretching away on both sides were rice padis,all laid out with mathematical precision by Govt.Surveyors under a post-war land reclamation scheme. Some of the bunds separating the fields were very wide and on these the padi farmers had their houses,from the mangroves to the jungle edge not a tree had been left standing so unless you were actually standing in the padi you could see and be seen for miles;apart from the Police presence the population was 100% Chinese. The Police complex comprising four buildings of recent construction of cement floor,brick wall to about four feet and then planks and roofs of attap arranged in a rectangle and surrounded by a barbed wire security fence was set apart from the village facing the padi fields, the one and only gate through the fence was guarded by a sentry in a sandbagged post beyond which was the building that housed the Charge Room,Offices,Armoury and Cells. To the rear were two long buldings,left side bachelors quarters right side married quarters,the fourth building at the end of the rectangle were the latrines.The bachelors quarters were the usual barrack type with a central area for washing and cooking ,at this time accommodating about eighteen constables . The married quarters were of more elaborate construction,divided into six units, each unit having a small verandah about eight feet wide on which,to one side was a small bathroom ( tap,waterjar and dipper) whilst on the other was a concrete bench on which was constructed a brick fireplace,there was also a small food safe. Opening off the verandah was the one and only room,containing nothing but a large wooden sleeping platform; one of these units was to be my home for the next six months.My posting orders,relayed to me by Joe who had answered the phone whilst I was asleep " the OCPD phoned,you're posted to Kampong Sekinchan,transport will be here about 10am tomorrow, the Sergeant there knows you are coming and has arranged accommodation . He says to check out the Post security and improve as neccessary,he will be visiting you next week" had hardly prepared me for this. I had a handgun I had never fired - a Stengun that had seen better days -, a mosquito net and my clothing, no bedding, no food or utensils to cook it in and, at that particular moment, no hope. Sekinchang had no roads apart from the one to Kuala Selangor so did not qualify for a vehicle and the one that had conveyed me had already left so I was stuck. The station Sergeant, a dignified Malay in his 20th.year of Police service, had shown me to my quarters and was now standing beside me making sympathetic noises, my Malay wasn't up to asking him the quickest way I could get home to Mum so I just stood silent. By now it was about 2.30pm so there was only a few hours before dark for me to get organised, the Sergeant took me into the village to the largest Chinese shop, it appeared to sell everything and also had a small area where meals were served, for immediate use I purchased a sleeping mat, blanket, tea, sugar, tinned milk, saucepan, mug and small Primus stove and fuel for it, the only food in the shop that I recognised were Jacobs Cream Crackers in sealed tins so I bought both the tins he had. Jacobs must have had very good sales staff for wherever I subsequently went,even the most isolated spots, if there was a shop then ten to one it would have Jacobs Crackers in it's stock. The shopkeeper agreed to deliver my stuff to the Station within the next hour and I arranged to return at 5.30 for an evening meal, egg and chips ; remembering Joe's advice I took everything on credit with payment to be made at the end of the month. Having completed my purchases the Sergeant took me around the rest of the Village, there wasn't much of it and it was all very depressing, the buildings were mostly of plank with tin or attap roofs with their fronts lodged on top of the bund facing the road and the remainder of the building supported on stilts around which pigs and chickens happily rooted amongst the food scraps and slops that descended from above, as with the padi area no trees had been left standing and the whole place was oppresively hot in the afternoon sun. The rest of the day was spent unpacking and arranging the stuff that had been delivered from the shop and hanging the mosquito net and arranging my bed during the course of which I realised I lacked a pillow, firing up the Primus stove, I made some tea which had to be drunk black because I had forgotten to buy a tin opener and stirred with a pencil for lack of a spoon. My evening meal was a disaster, I had chosen fried egg and chips because it was the only thing I could think of at the time,curry I was getting used to but the shop didn't serve it and I had never,ever, eaten a Chinese meal. My egg and chips duly arrived to the interested observation of quite a large crowd who seemed to have chosen my meal time to do their shopping, the serving was quite large and looked appetising but,unfortunately, the whole lot had been fried in coconut oil, I made a valiant effort not to embarrass myself and the shop keeper but I couldn't manage more than one egg and a couple of chips, to make amends I drank two more bottles of beer than I had planned and departed not forgetting to equip myself with a tin opener,spoon and knife and fork;a pillow was not obtainable at that time.By the time of my 21st birthday some three weeks later I was pretty well organised,no birthday cake but Fray Bentos steak and kidney pudding followed by Jacobs Crackers and jam wasn't a bad substitute all things considered.
Pending the arrival of the OCPD I made a few improvements to the Station security in consultation with the Sergeant, night perimeter fence patrols and personal weapons to be carried at all times within the compound whether on or off duty, but the perimeter fence,although seven feet high, was only of single strand barbed wire without perimeter lights, no electricity in Sekinchang, so compound security left much to be desired. My innovations were not all that well received until the Bukit Kepong incident a few weeks later when all objections disappeared. After a few days the OCPD made his visit,it was brief, inspection of the Station Diary,Armoury and compound plus a briefing on my duties which were to be compound defences and security,weapons training and area patrolling; routine Police business was the Sgts.job. I managed to get a promise for a few rolls of barbed wire but my request for perimeter lighting and a wireless communication set " was not possible at this time". The duties I had been allotted posed a number of difficulties,firstly, apart from the bund and the shop buldings the whole area as far as the jungle had been completely cleared and levelled to accomodate the padi fields making the siting of a firing range difficult if not impossible. The terrain also made patrolling a thankless and frustrating task,without trees the heat amongst the padi fields was terriffc and without cover we could be seen for miles so there was no element of surprise. Here and there amongst the fields were the houses of the padi farmers, the shade from these provided some relief from the sun during breaks but a three to four hour patrol was an exhausting business. The padi fields themselve were about two feet below the top of the enclosing embankments and even after harvest,when they were bare,provided good cover for an ambush party; the preferred enemy tactic. The constant need to be vigilant knowing that you presented a target better than those found in a shooting gallery was very wearing on the nerves. Night patrolling was better but even then,unless there was cloud, the moon made the whole area quite bright,even in the first quarter, and,of course,every farmer had one or two dogs that started barking as we approached and continued long after our passing. One tactic tried on night patrol was to go to the jungle edge with a patrol of as many men as I could muster and then return them minus myself and two others on a route that avoided the farmers houses although close enough to set the dogs barking.But not even these stay behind parties produced any results during the six months I spent in Sekinchan which was very frustrating although later on I formed the opinion that the area,because of the way it was laid out,was such a very important and safe source of rice for the CTs that the last thing they wanted was to bring attention to themselves, this was before the Briggs Resettlement Plan and control of rural fod production was non-existent. Apart from the living conditions,Sekinchan was probably one of the best and safest rural postings for a Police Lieutenant at that time. The lack of a firing range was overcome by taking parties out through the padi fields to the jungle edge and pinning targets on trees, I was a bit worried about instructing on the Bren,since my Army basic training some two years previously I had not touched one,but as soon as I picked it up I could hear the Sergeant instructor bellowing in my ear and it all came back. Once the British Army teaches you something you stay taught ! Sekingchan did not have a Jungle Squad, the garrison was a mix of,mainly,regular Police Constables for day to day Police duties and a few Special Constables to beef up the Station defence, no one,including myself, had been issued jungle equipment i.e.green clothing,water bottles,jungle boots and backpacks so forays into the jungle were of short duration, mainly looking for recently used tracks along the edges. In any case, Station duties, the village beat,leave and sickness used up most of the available personnel,thus,for me,there was little to do except spend days lying on my sleeping platform trying to read and ignore the heat.
Since my arrival living conditions had improved, I now had a fairly extensive collection of tinned food, an array of sauces and chutneys to make it palatable and enough pots and pans. The usual lighting was an empty cigarette tin (round, holding 50 cigarettes) with a hole punched in the lid through which was threaded a coarse piece of string hanging down into the kerosene within the tin. For pottering around in the room the light was just adequate but quite impossible to read by so I thought I would import some 20th.Century technology in the form of a small Tilley pressure lantern. This was a big mistake,after several false starts I managed to get it to operate and settled down to read in the brilliant light it gave off. Unfortunately the light also attracted the night flying moths and other insects and within a few minutes my room was a mass of whirling insects, I never used the lamp again in Sekinchan. My fluency in the Malay language was increasing by leaps and bounds, I had managed to get a Malay/English dictionary and took every opportunity to use it. I spoke to all and sundry trying out new words and making a fool of myself in the process but my main conversationalist was my Sergeant, however he was very anxious to improve his English so it was always a battle between us, he to talk English and me to speak Malay.
One day a message from the OCPD was received "seal off village from 4am on (date) allow no one to leave and await my arrival" about 6am the OCPD arrived in his Landrover accompanied by two Chev Troop Carriers, one full of a jungle squad the other with all it's side and rear covers tied down, I was informed it contained surrendered and captured CTs ( later on I was to learn that most CTs once in Police custody became very co-operative ) with the OCPD were a Special Branch chap and two Chinese detectives. Apparently the CTs in the carrier had operated in the Sekinchan area and were to identify past helpers as the village inhabitants were paraded past,those being viewed were never ever told the names of those viewing them.The operation lasted several hours with much too-ing and fro-ing past the peepholes in the carrier, eventually two males were taken into custody, one I had never seen before whilst the other was my main supplier of creature comforts, the shopkeeper. This was a disaster, as the owner of the only refrigerator (kerosine) in the village I could see that my arrangement for delivery of two bottles of cold Tiger to the Chargeroom at exactly 5pm daily was in jeopardy, in the event the delivery never faltered the shop owners wife and family carrying on as usual. I participated in several more of these identity parades in various places but I never felt comfortable, it seemed to me that the method made the settling of old scores too easy.
Towards the end of my second month at Sekinchan another P/Lt. was sent to join me, I could never understand why for we still did not have a resident Jungle Squad so there really were no spare personnel for duties other than routine ones. Charles, the new arrival straight from Singapore, was a deeply unhappy man of about 30. His immediate unhappiness came from the fact that he had haemorrhoids, a condition that does not cope easily with Asian type lavatories. His other and longer term unhappiness arose from the fact that as an ex-Cavalary officer (he had the moustache to prove it ) he had been led to believe by his recruiters, the Colonial Office, that" he would be in the Officer class, mess nights,dress uniforms and all that sort of thing" instead he was in effect a platoon sergeant; his arrival in Singapore and incarceration in the Changi Sgts.Mess had started the alarm bells ringing; Sekinchan added a few more decibels. Charles partly overcame one of his problems by commandeering an office chair from the Chargeroom and cutting the plaited cane seat out of it, unfortunately there was only one male toilet for all ranks so he couldn't leave his chair there, the sight of him marching from his quarters the whole length of the compound bearing his chair caused much merriment although the Malay Constables and their wives were too polite to show it. My Malay was severely taxed trying to explain to the Sgt. so he could pass it on to the men who were much mystified. Personally, I had no sympathy for him, even as a young Fireman on the lowest pay scale the salary on offer for a P/Lt.was not all that startling so I couldn't see how he could have been so misled.
After ten days or so Charles started his campaign to solve his other unhappiness, first step was to get permission to take his piles to Kuala Lumpur for medical inspection, by chance KL was also Malayan Police H.Q ! Upon his return he was determined and despairing by turns, having seen some of the social life of expatriates in the Capitol,although as a P/Lt. only from the fringe "do you know I was told only Australian Shift Engineers on Tin Dredges,whatever they are, are lower socially" he was intent to get to KL and take a step up into the mess night/service dress circuit. His efforts at Police H.Q. had not been received with much enthusiasm except by chance he had learnt that the H.Q. Cricket Club was looking for experienced players and he had left a message saying he would like to join as a playing member, apparently he had some experience as a County player. He thought this was an extremely long shot but for the time being he had to be content with it.
Having made his bid Charles settled down a bit and to relieve the monotony we started doing two man night patrols to the jungle edge and back when the sky was dark enough. Nothing came of these, in fact the most dangerous part was when we were trying to get back in to the compound, the sentries were nervous and trigger happy ,understandable as the perimeter was not lit, before alerting the sentry of our return we always took up position in a ditch about 25yds.out; just in case.
Lo and behold, three weeks later came the message "could Charles be available next weekend for a practice match ?" Could he ? if he had to walk and run the gauntlet of every ambush the CTs could put up he would be there, the OCPDs approval was taken for granted; and subsequently given. What Englishman of the right stuff would stand between a man and his game? Emergency not withstanding. Charles departed on the Thursday so that he could use Friday to prepare for the Saturday start. The following Tuesday saw his return well satisfied with his cricketing debut even though it had entailed incurring a substantial debt at Robinsons department store for appropriate clothing and cricketing paraphernalia , however, as Charles said."one must speculate to accumulate" . With the advance of the cricket season Charles time at Sekinchan became infrequent until, as I expected, a message arrived informing me that Charles had been posted to Police HQ, KL and would I forward his personal belongings. Later, in the December issue of the Police Magazine, I noticed that one of the State correspondents was Asst.Superintendent Charles, his speculation had indeed accumulated. Having no particular prowess in any sport I had to soldier on for another four months before a posting out of Sekinchan came my way.
My new posting was to take over a Jungle Squad based at the Selangor Bulk Oil Installation ( SBOI )on the Northern side of the mouth of the Selangor River, Kuala Selangor,the Town and Police H.Q., were on the opposite bank but there was no bridge and one had to travel some twelve miles inland to Batang Berjuntai, a small village, before the river was bridged. This posting improved my life considerably, leading a Jungle Squad was much more interesting than being stuck in a Police Station, I had a squad of about 25 and a Landrover and Chev. Troop carrier for transport plus more comfortable accommodation in the form of the top floor of the SBOI Managers bungalow, he had moved to a more secure location. With the squad living downstairs and in the servants quarters at the rear; I was well satisfied with my new circumstances. Another plus in this new posting was that I shared the upstairs quarters with another P/Lt. whose job was administering the Special Constables who manned the defences of the many rubber and oil palm estates in the surrounding area, our combined income allowed us to employ a cook and his wife, who did our laundry and kept the place tidy. The Squad I had inherited comprised Malay Special Constables,mostly in their late teens, and a Sergeant and a Corporal who were also Malays, two Brenguns and an assortment of Stens and .303 Rifles plus hand grenades completed the picture. Appropriate clothing and personal equipment was in short supply, a few of the squad had jungle green uniforms but most were clothed in Police khakhi and wore a type of basketball sneaker, as did I. Water for personal use was carried in glass bottles that in a previous life had contained Fraser & Neave soft drink, we had a few military style canvas back packs but when there was only thin shirt material between you and the rough pack straps they became very uncomfortable after a short time. On my first weekend leave after posting to Sekinchan I had looked up my old Army RSM who had been moved from Seremban to KL, through his 'good offices' I acquired a prismatic compass and a map case which now proved very useful although maps were in short supply. By the middle of 1951 most of the personal equipment deficiencies had been rectified although good jungle boots were difficult to obtain, two local contractors made these boots, one had a good design that was shaped around the ankle and calf giving a tight fit that kept out water, the other style was shapeless around the ankles allowing the water that came through the canvas to stay inside......most uncomfortable.
The Squad I had inherited was a very happy one mainly due to the Squad Sgt., a regular Policeman with some fifteen years of service having joined before WW2 and served all through the Japanese occupation. Sgt.Raja had a quiet air of authority and being so much older than the rest of us was treated as a father figure by all, the rest of the Sqad,being young, tended to be a bit high spirited and,sometimes, rather lax in mundane day to day duties. Such shortcomings were quietly brought to the transgressors attention in a way that made the culprits feel as though they had let the Sgt. down and caused him great sorrow, an approach that was very effective. Months later,,just before I left the Squad, Sgt.Raja and several others were killed in an ambush on a rubber estate road.
Life in the Jungle Squad was much more interesting than Sekinchan, being the only Squad in the area we were constantly engaged in reacting to incidents or carrying out operations on information provided, mostly without success. Road ambushes were becoming more frequent so that any movement by road became potentially dangerous requiring a high degree of readiness to react, within our area were a number of potential road ambush sites which, as we approached, increased the tension considerably. Sometimes, at one of these potential ambush spots, I would stop the vehicle(s) short and send 3/4 man patrols off the road on both sides to sweep through before driving forward, we never encountered any thing but I thought unpredictability might make us a more difficult target. After a few months of this the only time I felt reasonably safe was at base, on foot patrol , laying up in an ambush or on leave in one of the major towns; for some reason the CTs seldom took their fight within town boundaries.
At this time lack of radio communications severely hampered all Police operations, our only link to HQ was a telephone line, crank the handle and wait for the exchange to answer, and once we left base we had no communication with anyone. Some shops within our area had telephones which we could use to report in but they were few and far between, Estates were in the process of installing radio links but, at this time, most still relied on telephones with the lines strung on poles running alongside the Estate entrance road. Police District HQ maintained a regular call up roster to all Estates, a non reply indicating the line had been cut or, more often, a tree had fallen across the line, either way an armed patrol was sent to investigate. On several occasions when the lines had been cut the CT objective was not an attack on the Estate but an ambush of the Police patrol responding. After a few of these ambushes it became common practice to stop at the Estate entrance, turn off the motors and listen, if firing was heard we would motor forward cautiously, no firing and we went forward on foot.
My new posting gave me the opportunity to expand my social life slightly, either drinking beer with other P/Lts.,usually in the back of a Chinese shop, or visiting the local club which catered for the Planters and Govt.Officers of the District. The Club introduced me to Coopers Oxford Marmalade, which I liked, and Gentlemans Relish which I thought disgusting, not a patch on Pecks fish paste! Surprisingly,amongst the older planting community Somerset Maugham was sometimes mentioned "dreadful chap,accepted our hospitality and then wrote those awful stories, completely untrue of course". Another occasion for gathering were wakes, P/Lts. who died in Selangor were buried in Cheras Rd.Cemetery,KL with the funeral attended by comrades from all over the State. Afterwards close friends would get together for many beers, to discuss the circumstances of their friends death and to forget for a while what they had to return to.( Being a P/Lt. was quite different from being a member of the Armed Forces, often you lived on your own in an isolated spot with only your Malay Constables for company knowing full well that if the CTs decided to attack in strength you didn't stand much chance of surviving) The wakes I attended were always held in Nantos Bar in Batu Rd, a convenient place since it had several hotels close by,including the Colosseum which over the years became my preferred place to stay when in KL in spite of the fact that the bedrooms had no ceilings. I have never found another eatery that could better their grilled sole or baked crab.
Early in 1951 I received a message that,although I didn't know it at the time, was to change my life considerably "stand down from all operations next Thursday and have vehicles available for inspection by State Transport Officer.......OCPD" This was welcome news, to date there were practically no facilities for vehicle maintenance and repair , my Landrover had a bad case of front wheel wobble whilst the the front suspension of the A40 had completely collapsed. I had already tried to cure the wheel wobble by adjusting the steering linkage which had some effect but it still occurred occasionally under certain circumstances, there was nothing to be done for the A40, being used in a manner it was not designed for - carrying 5 plus armed persons over unpaved potholed roads the front coil springs had lost all their resilience. Thursday afternoon saw the inspection team arrive, a P/Lt. and two Chinese mechanics in a Ford Prefect. After the inspections were completed night was fast approaching, too late to make the return journey so temporary beds were made up for the team, they had their own bedding, and we settled down for a few beers. Jock, the P/Lt., had gone straight into the KL workshops upon arrival so a night in an isolated jungle squad post was quite an experience for him as it was for the two mechanics, KL-ites from birth and rather nervous to be in the company of so many Malays! During the evening conversation I learnt that the Landrover wheel wobble could be cured by extra shims on the steering knuckles, Jock described the procedure and I reckoned I could do it with the tools I had so he agreed to send me some, there was nothing to be done about the A40 for the moment, new coil springs were needed but none were available. Further conversation revealed we were both motorbike enthusiasts so the rest of the evening was spent talking bikes, a very pleasant interlude in the daily routine.
The following months passed with occasional bus burnings, damage and intimidation on Estates and road ambushes, a P/Lt. with whom I had become friendly was assassinated in the main street in Klang, a most unusual occurrence and probably done because he was half Chinese recruited from Hong Kong and seen as a real danger to the CTs because of his language skills and ability to pass as a Chinese. Equipment was becoming more available, all the Squad now had jungle green clothing and proper jungle boots but the continued lack of a radio network made it difficult to coordinate incident follow ups and we always seemed to be two steps behind the CTs. A few months into 1951 I had a call from Jock ,the Transport P/Lt., new vehicles including armoured ones were on the way and every Police District was to have it's own workshop and Transport Officer, would I be interested ? The answer was yes.
In mid 1951 the call finally came, report to State Transport Officer,KL in two weeks time for introduction course and onward posting. Leaving the Squad was harder than I had imagined, we had been together for nearly a year and knew each other well but the chap taking over was well experienced so I felt they were in good hands. Moving to KL was like entering another world, a comfortable room in the P/Lts.Mess, light at the touch of a switch, no evening or morning stand-to, choice of Cinemas and Bars and, best of all, 9 to 5 work hours and a feeling of safety. At this time the Mess accomodated some 20 plus P/Lts. most doing various things at Police H.Q., a few had served outside KL but for most this was their first posting. Like all things unknown the dangers of Police service outside KL, reinforced by the steady addition of names to the Roll of Honour board hanging in the Mess lounge, promoted constant rumours of which jobs might be up for review and who might be found surplus to HQ requirements and posted out. New Mess members were seen as potential replacements for incumbents and were quizzed heavily until their status could be established, fortunately I was considered not to be a threat. Having made the journey to KL the hard way I was rather disdainful of this paranoia although I had to admit to myself that a choice between Sekinchan or KL would be an easy one to make.
My new boss, a regular UK Police Officer who had been brought out to organise the Transport Dept., was a great chap, in many ways he reminded me of my late Squad Sgt.,Raja. Very quietly spoken and always extremely polite he assumed that those who worked for him would give their very best, which they usually did, Jock was his No.2 and looked after the day to day running of the workshop. My task was to become familiar with the various administrative aspects of running a workshop, maintenance schedules and reports, spares indents, petty cash account etc.etc. and the weaknesses and quirks of the vehicles that made up the Police fleet. I spent about three weeks at the workshop and in addition to learning the things already mentioned I also learnt that I couldn't speak Malay. This was a great shock, I had a very extensive Malay vocabulary and had just spent eighteen months mainly in the company of Malays who couldn't speak English and with whom I spoke daily. My language shortcomings were brought home to me by Jock, I knew that he didn't live in the Mess and I had a vauge idea that he had set up home with a local lady and her family which proved to be true. As a consquence of this arrangement his home life was conducted in Malay with all it's abbreviations and slang words,in short he could engage in abstract conversation, all my Malay allowed was to ask questions and understand answers, in addition he had acquired the correct sounds whilst I was still an Englishman speaking Malay words out of a dictionary a la Winstedt. From that day forward I made a point of listening more and looking for opportunities to engage in conversations not related to work, in this respect bar girls were very helpful, for a few glasses of overpriced orange fizz and a meal I could get several hours of conversation.
My posting was to Kuala Kubu Bahru Police HQ as District Transport Officer, KKB was 39 miles North of KL on the main road via the notorious Kanching Pass the scene of several ambushes. Situated close to where the main road divided into one going North to Ipoh/Penang and the other N/E via the Gap into Pahang, the area had figured prominently in Spencer Chapman's book "The Jungle is Neutral" in the first months following the Japanese occupation. Unfortunately, two weeks prior to my arrival, one of the District's P/Lts. had been killed on operations thus the atmosphere at District HQ was rather gloomy but in spite of this I was warmly welcomed by the OCPD, Dick Jesse, a larger than life ex RAF type, who gave me every assistance to bring the existing workshop up to scratch and enforce regular vehicle inspections and maintenance routines that had not been in place before.Sadly,a few months later, Dick Jesse was transferred to take over Kuala Selangor District, my old stamping ground, and was killed in a road ambush shortly thereafter.
The KKB P/Lts. Mess was of attap and plank construction sited on the right hand side of the road to Pahang with the KKB Club opposite and the Town a little further up and back from the road, a small grassed valley separated the Town from the Club, the whole presented a very clean and open aspect due to the fact that the original Town had been demolished in floods some years before and this one had been built to a proper town plan.Although of basic construction the Mess was quite comfortable with power connected and a fridge and resident cook, there were quarters for four officers plus a central dining area cum lounge, usually there were only three residents, Roy Hundley who led the Jungle Squad, Charles Tozer who was in charge of security for the Estates in the vicinity of the Town and myself. Roy had been a RAF pilot whose ambition was to save enough money to buy a small plane and start a locust spraying business in Egypt, not given to small talk he had a keen interest in history, world affairs and geography. We had some great discussions/arguments in the Mess that sometimes lasted for weeks until he spoilt it all by buying a set of Encyclopedia Brittanica. Charles, never Charlie, ex Naval Officer and recent arrival in Malaya was a quiet type, not given to partying and very protective of his private life. In London he had been led to believe that he would be posted to the Marine Branch so he was not very happy to find himself running around Rubber Estates in a clapped out A40. Eventually Charles did get his posting to the Marine Branch but was killed in action in the Johore Straits in December 1952. Two of the outlying Police Posts had resident P/Lts. who, if nothing was happening, would come in some weekends for a few beers and a decent meal, both Posts were quite isolated in predominately Chinese squatter areas with just the one road in and out, in the comparative safety of the KKB Mess the lack of tension led to some wild parties.
My arrival in KKB marked two milestones in my Police career, firstly I was halfway through my three year contract and, secondly, my previous existence of constant vigilance, responsibility for the safety of a jungle squad, being on call at all hours and living in extremely poor conditions of isolation, no electricity, hardly any fresh food and poor water was over. Now I ,mainly, worked from 8 to 5 and was responsible for three civilian mechanics and some thirty odd vehicles; the change in my life style was unbelievable.With a power supply available I started to acquire a few creature comforts, a radio, a fan and a record player. Extended play records had just started to appear on the Malayan market and one of my first purchases was the opera 'Carmen', played every evening after my shower which , knowing the story but not understanding the words, I conducted.
The first few months were extremely busy bringing the workshop facilities up to standard, building up an adequate spare parts stock and rectifying the years of neglect the vehicle fleet had suffered. I was particularly proud of the workshop, previously an empty building sited on the edge of town it now had work benches, a lubrication bay and a block and tackle facility for lifting engines, however, in spite of my best efforts, the Chinese mechanics much preferred to do their engine rebuilds on the concrete floor, later on I had a small victory when they reluctantly agreed that carburetor repairs might be better done on the work benches. The armoured vehicles were now starting to arrive, requiring driver re-training to handle these heavier machines with their restricted vision and more complicated gearboxes. Fortunately, alongside the workshop, was an area of several acres that had once been an army camp, the buildings had long since gone but the paved service roads still survived and made an ideal training area. Eventually I had two instructors working full time training not only KKB District drivers but drivers from other Police Districts who were sent to take advantage of our facilities.
I had now completed the second year of my three year contract and apart from occasional forays into the countryside to recover vehicles that had been shot up or just broken down my working life was an 8 to 5 one within the confines of KKB town site. Police casualties continued to be high, within my own rank of Police Lieutenant 34 were killed in action during 1950-51, which made me feel a little uncomfortable with my mundane and safe job, particularly because my two mess mates were risking their lives every time they exited the KKB perimeter fence; which they did on a daily basis. Although vocal about the condition/availability of their vehicles they never commented on my personal circumstances, perhaps my first eighteen months of service gave me a certain credibility. At this time the Royal West Kent Regiment were stationed in KKB but were not having much success, in spite of extensive patrolling and ambushing they were yet to have a contact. When Roy and his rag tag band of Special Constables known as the KKB Jungle Squad had two kills in a matter of weeks relations between the Police and the West Kents became very strained, the Army were convinced that Special Branch were feeding the best information to their own. In fact this was not true, Roy, when patrolling through a squatter area, had an uncanny knack of sensing when things were not quite right, such a feeling would qualify the area for a return visit and an extended ambush operation,often unsuccessful but not on these two occasions. At first glance the KKB Jungle Squad did not present very well,still in a time when uniforms in the right sizes for Special Constables were in short supply as were other items of equipment, the men did the best they could with what they had. Roy,however,had absolutely no interest in how they dressed providing they could do the job, this led to some bizarre clothing combinations and jungle hat configurations that sometimes
drew comment from senior officers to which Roy always politely replied "yes sir" and did nothing about. If dress standards were ignored weapons training certainly wasn't, the standard type Police firing range on the outskirts of KKB Roy turned into a combat course and spent every possible moment there with his men putting them through all types of exercises with live ammunition. In my opinion the KKB Squad was one of the best trained in the State.
Christmas 1952 came and went and my three year contract was coming to an end, during this period 46 of my brother P/Lts. had lost their lives and one wondered where it would all end. However, with the optimism of the young, I signed a contract for another three years before departing on UK leave.