Japanese Occupation- Dato' Param.pdf - Malaysian Paediatric ...

The Japanese Occupation of Malaya- As seen through the eyes of a young boy
N.Paramaesvaran
As my mind drifts back some 70 years , my first impression is we were a terrified lot on the run. I
was 5 years old then, the youngest of six children. I was being carried by my man servant Manikam. I
suddenly heard the loud booming and screeching sound of planes. When I looked up, I saw planes
everywhere in the sky, zooming around and firing at each other. My brother told me the air battle
was between Japanese Zero fighters and British Buffalo Fighters. Wow!this was great. I started to clap
my hands with excitement-planes had always been my favourite. I used to make paper planes daily, and
fly them around the house. Manikam then , for absolutely no reason, decided to clamp his huge black
hand over my eyes, shouting “You must not see that”. I struggled to free his hand, by biting it.He
screamed at me “ You naughty boy.” He appealed to my mother for her help. She told him “Let him see
the planes. He is greatly fascinated by them”. I saw one of the planes had been shot, and was plunging
in flames into the sea nearby. My brother told me it was a RAF Buffalo Fighter.
It was an afternoon, suffocatingly warm, and my mother had put a handkerchief over my head. That
must have been around the 14 th or 15 th of December 1941, and we were moving away for safety from
our Government House in C5 Bagan Luar Road Butterworth, to a house in Kampong Bengali, owned by
Postmaster Mr.Ponniah. He was a good friend of my father. He had earlier moved his family further
away to a relative’s house, and had offered his house to us(my father later paid him for our stay).The
reason for this desperate move was because there was a strong rumour that the Japanese army had
routed the British defence line at Jitra and after capturing Alor Star, were making their way to the south
to Butterworth. We were informed that these soldiers, the first Japanese crack troop, were wild . After
a successful battle, they were known to go on a rampage, looting and raping any woman that came
their way. They were not choosey-the old, the young, the thin and the fat, were all acceptable. (Of
course I wasn’t aware of this until I was much older)
I need to go back to 11 th December 1941, when this story really had its beginning. It was on that
fatal day, that the Japanese bombers first bombed Penang. When the people in Penang first saw these
planes, gleaming high up in the sky, they thought they were British planes from the aircraft carrier HMS
Eagle. They kept waving at the planes, confident the British had arrived to send the Japanese back to
Japan. Then the bombs fell. The sudden realization that these were Japanese bombers, and that Penang
was being bombed, came as a rude shock to them. Pandemonium broke out. People were running
everywhere , desperately looking for shelter. But sadly many were killed that day.
On that day, my eldest sister was at her Senior Cambridge Exam in Penang, at Penang Light Street
Convent. I remember that day well, because it was the first time I saw my mother looking frightfully
worried. She was always stoic, and never showed her emotions. But that day, as we stood at our patio,
and looked out towards Penang, we saw thick black smoke rising over Penang, and heard the sound of
bombs exploding, I could see she was hopelessly distraught. My father, hoping to reassure her told her
“Don’t worry. Your daughter is a very clever girl. She will somehow find her way back”. Unfortunately,
Jun Teck , a Chinese friend living nearby, made matters worse. Walking past our house, he waved his
hands in despair, and shouted “Penang is flattened. No hope!”.Then Gopalkrisnan, an inspector of
schools, our neighbour, who had just come back from Penang shook his head in dismay –“Penang is

gone”. And there we were standing worried about my sister who was in the Convent Light Street
Penang, taking her Senior Cambridge exam. All we could do was pray, and hope for the best.
And then our prayers were answered. She suddenly appeared, my sister with her hair dishevelled,
looking like a bedraggled doll. There were tears in her eyes. She looked exhausted and frightened. My
mother quickly brought her in. My father put his arms over her to comfort her. My mother then made
her a cup of her favourite teh tarik, and gave her some ‘vadais’(an Indian pastry) which she had specially
made for her, knowing she would be hungry after her exam. She wiped the tears with the back of her
hand, sat down and ate the vadais ravenously. She then gulped down her tea. We all then sat down to
listen to her story.
“I was in the school hall, in the midst of my Arts paper, when suddenly we heard loud explosions.
We jumped up , petrified and started screaming and running around in panic. Then Reverend
Mother Francis Zavier, my favourite teacher, came rushing in , and in her calm voice told all of us
“Girls, stop crying. Get down under the desks and stay there. Don’t worry. Start praying. God will look
after you.”We soon settled down. We hid ourselves under the desks , and started reciting the Lords
Prayer aloud. This helped. It was some time before the bombing stopped, followed by the all clear siren.
We were then told to get back to our homes as quickly as possible. I left the school immediately, and
as I was the only one from Butterworth, I had to find my way to Penang Pier all by myself. I was
terrified. As I walked along Bishop Street , with my legs trembling, I found the road completely
deserted. I was shocked to see the damage the bombs had done to the shops. There were dead bodies
scattered around. I saw the Indian Muslim shop ‘M.S.Ali’(our father’s favourite shop)still burning. I
prayed to God for help, and finally reached Penang Pier. There, to my horror, the normal ferry had left.
All that was available was a large converted tongkang, that was tugged by a motor boat. The waves were
high, and the tongkang had difficulty getting to the side of the pier. We were told to jump in, and I think
it was mother’s prayers that helped me make the jump, first on to a ladder, and then desperately make
the climb up to the tongkang. With the choppy waves, and this large tongang being pulled by a small
motor boat, the trip back to Butterworth seemed to last for ever. When I finally reached Butterworth
Pier, I had another shock- there were no buses running. I had no choice but to walk”. (From the Pier to
our house at C5 Bagan Luar Road is a good 5 kilomteres). “ All the way I kept praying the bombers
wouldn’t come back. It was a lonely and terrifying experience.”She then started to cry with relief,
grateful the ordeal was over. Seeing her alive and well was a great relief to all of us. She was only 14
years old then!
The bombing of Penang continued from the 11 th to the 13 th of Dec. My brother and his buddies
Taller(by the way he was anything but tall), Tuan Peng, and Hassan stood counting the Japanese
bombers, which first flew to Butterworth, and then turned towards Penang. He still remembers vividly
counting 21 of them..The British pilots put up a brave fight, but their antiquated Buffalo Fighters were
bulky and sluggish. The Japanese pilots derisively called them, ‘Beer Barrel’ fighters, and the Americans
referred to them as ‘flying coffins.’ They were no match for the nippy fast Japanese Zero fighters. One
Bufflalo Fighter was shot down and fell into a paddy field nearby. Next day my brother and his friends
jumped on their cycles and rushed to see the plane. They had a great time with the plane. They even sat
in the cockpit and took souvenirs from the plane. I think my brother must have been just 11, and always
up to mischief with his 3 buddies.

The invasion of Malaysia began with the bombing of Singapore on 8 th December 1941.The Japanese
landed in Kota Bahru, in the early morning of 9 th Dec 1941 and two hours later Admiral Yamamoto with
his Japanese aircraft carriers and his fleet of Zero fighters carrying torpedo bombs, carried out the
‘Surprise attack’ , on the American Fleet in Pearl Harbour, preventing any help that Churchill had hoped
this fleet could play in the war in South East Asia. The Japanese had also landed in north eastern
Thailand, and after a short battle, took over Thailand. They then made their way down to Malaya, first
capturing Jitra and Alor Star, as the British plan to make Jitra as their fall- back defence line had failed. It
must be mentioned that the Siamese turned the table on the British plans, by signing a treaty with the
Japanese, and were later rewarded with the Japanese passing over to them the ownership of Kedah,
Perlis, Kelantan and Trengannu. After the bombing of Penang and the loss of Kedah, Headquarters in
Singapore instructed the British Army in Penang to evacuate all Europeans to Singapore- only
Europeans! They left on 17 th December by train, and on the ‘Penang Ferries’ for Singapore, without
offering the Japanese any real resistance. It has been said that the fall of Malaya began with the fall of
Penang. The British left in a hurry, leaving the locals, who had served them with dedication, to the mercy
of the Japanese. Instead they were loading the ships and train with their house old furniture, and
even one, as the story goes, took his piano- and yet there was no space for the locals. This ‘diplomatic
faux pas’ by the British commander may have turned the locals against the British, and their later
acceptance of the Japanese. And soon after the British left, the Japanese arrived in Penang on the 19 th
Dec. They then took over all the key installations and prime property for their use. Convent Light Street
was Naval HQ, E&O Hotel HQ for Senior Officers and Wesley Church the Kempeitai HQ and Penang Club
to house their senior military personnel).
I still remember the arrival of the Japanese in Butterworth. Some came in their tanks, some were
on bicycles, that they had confiscated from the Malays in the north, but the majority came marching in
on foot. It was great fun to see these soldiers and tanks. I remember clapping my hands, and happily
waving at them, and was thrilled when they waved back at me.
But it soon dawned on us the actual consequences of what ‘occupation’ meant. It left us in a
quagmire from which we had to dig our way out. Government offices were closed, and my father was
left without a job. He had 6 children to feed. He was desperate. He and my eldest brother then started
selling newspapers, riding around Butterworth on their Raleigh bicycles, which they had hidden from
the Japanese. Each paper was sold for 1 cent with a profit of ½ a cent. From a senior clerk in a
prestigious government office, to having to sell newspaper was a big come down for him. Before the
war, his greatest passion was reading and participating in his Literary Circle, a group he and his friends
formed. They used to meet regularly to put up plays and exchange thoughts on literature. After this
experience of having to face stark hardship, he realised in the real world, a job and money was all that
mattered. And it is sad he never went back to serious reading.(In passing he was a scholar in both
English and Tamil-there was no one in Butterworth better versed in the Tamil Language)
We stayed in this Kampong house in Kampong Bengali for a while. To me it was great fun. All 6
children had to share a large bed, kicking each other around for space. We had to share food and there
was never enough. I used to run around to the Chinese Shop nearby to buy Eu Char Koi.(My mother
used to pamper me by giving me one cent for this delicious pastry-I still insist that what I get in Sydney
cannot not match the Eu Char Koi from this little shop in Kampong Bengali).

And finally the day came when normality was regained, and it was safe for us to return to our house
in C 5 Bagan Luar Road. My father resumed his career as a Senior clerk. For extra income, my mother
made some ‘kueh’ which my younger sister would lay out in front of the PWD Office, and sell it for a few
cents. She, with her pretty face, and captivating smile, soon became a successful entrepreneur.
We got used to seeing Japanese soldiers walking around, and soon my second brother started to
make friends with some of them. The first batch of soldiers who were involved with the early assault
had moved on to other battle fronts. Their replacements were more friendly, and cultured ,and tried
very hard to get on with the locals. One such friend was a 21year old foot soldier named Awayagi.
He used to visit us on his off days, bringing rice for my mother. He would then take off his shirt , and
start pounding the rice to make rice flour. My mother would be seated in a stool next to the mortar(ural
in Tamil), and would shift the rice with each pounding on the mortar. I would sit next to my mother on
my small bangku and watch the proceedings. They refused to let me help. Awayagi would be sweating
but laughing, as he had never done this in Japan. After this, and after sieving all the rice powder into
another container, my mother would get him to grind chilli. The poor guy, with tears flowing down his
cheeks, and still laughing would finish the job in a jiffy. Then my mother would seat him down, and give
him a large plate of cooked rice, and Indian curry which he would eat with relish, all the time
complaining “Karai neh Jotu neh”“Very spicy but very good.”
I remember one Sunday morning Awayagi, turned up looking very happy, as it was his off day. He
wanted to take my brother aged 12, my sister aged 8, and me aged 6, to Penang for a fun day. My
parents knew him to be a responsible person, and consented. We put on our Sunday best, and set off
with him. We arrived at Butterworth Mitchell Pier, but were disappointed to find the Ferry had left. We
were told by the ticket collector, it would take another 3 hours before this ferry returned. There was
only one ferry plying between Butterworth and Penang. We could however take one of the sampans
that were waiting at the beach. Awayagi asked us if t was O.K. with us and we agreed to take the
sampan. We thought it would an exciting experience.(These sampans were manned by Indian Muslims
from India- that is how they got their name ‘Mamak Tongkang.)As we got down to the beach, we were
hustled into one of the sampans, by a tall Indian Muslim, in a green sarong, and a red colourful shirt.
Awayagi paid the fare, and we sat down with the other passengers, and we soon took off. We were to
cross the Malacca Straits, that separated Penang from Butterworth-a distance of at least 3-4 miles. The
Sampan man bent his back, and started rowing with all his might, sweat dripping from his forehead, as
we sat under the burning sun. Fortunately there was a slight breeze to cool us .When we were half way
across the sea, suddenly the boat began to rock. We could see the waves had started to rise, and far
away, we could see the early signs of a storm cloud building up. We became frightened. The Sampan
Man, (he told us his name was Ibrahaim, and he was from Madras,) reassured us that all was well, and
he had done this trip a hundred times. We held each others hand, and started to pray. The journey must
have taken a few hours. When we finally arrived in Penang we were completely exhausted, but relieved
the nightmare was over. Awayagi seeing how distraught we were, put his arms around us, and told us he
was going to give us a special treat. He was taking us to have the best ice cream in Penang. We then
took a bus to the famous ‘Wing Look’ Restaurant, next to the Police station on Penang Road. And there
we had our first ice cream ever(my father had never allowed us to eat ice cream. He believed, because
of the possible contaminated water used to make it, we could contract typhoid).The taste of the icecream
was heavenly. We took our time savouring every spoonful of this delicious sweet. We then saw a

Japanese film at the Cathay theatre, and heard for the first time the famous hit Japanese song Shina No
Yoru (later translated to the hit English song China Nights) which we later used to hum daily. After
walking around Penang Road, we decided to return home. Fortunately we managed to catch the ferry
on our return trip, and got home safely. I am not sure if our parents ever got to know about our
escapade on the sampan with Ibrahim, over the Malacca Straits. Later, when I was schooling in Penang,
and made this trip across the sea daily, in the comfort of the ‘S.S.Bagan’ ferry ,I used to sit and look out
at the sea, sometimes quite rough, and find it hard to believe we three children had crossed this sea on
a little sampan. Even now I get shivers thinking about it.
Awoyagi became a very close friend. When Japan lost the war, and the Japanese Army was leaving,
he rang our neighbour Dr.Saravanamuthu to speak to us. My sister ran over, and over the phone he was
sobbing. Japan had lost the war and he was leaving the next day. He had always believed the Japanese
war machine was invincible. He never contacted us after he left. Inspite of many attempts by us to
contact him in Japan, we failed. Then miraculously, the impossible happened. In 1981 some Japanese ex
soldiers who had fought in Malaya, were planning to visit Malaysia. When Awoyagi heard about this trip,
he was keen to join them. Over the years, his family had heard him talk about this Navaratnam family in
Malaya, who had looked after him like a son, during the war. This was his one hope of reuniting with
them. The family encouraged him to go. He first wrote a letter to the BRC Club in Butterworth, asking
about the whereabouts of the Navaratnam family. It was fortunate that there was an old man there,
who remembered us, and passed the letter to my brother. My sister whose Japanese was still good,
wrote back to him giving all the details of our address and how to contact us when he arrived.
My brother got in touch with all of us, and organised a reunion in his house. When Awoyagi arrived
in Penang (the group was staying in Merlin Hotel) he immediately got in touch with my brother, who
then drove up to pick him .There he found Awoyagi , standing in the foyer of the hotel, carrying 6 large
Japanese dolls, he had brought all the way from Japan, for the 6 of us.(My sister had informed him both
our parents had passed away. And there were the only 6 of us.)It was a tearful and joyous reunion. Soon
my eldest brother and my eldest sister were conversing with Awoyagi in Japanese. I was amazed to see
and listen to my eldest sister, as she rattled of in fluent Japanese.
My sister-in-law had been instructed by my brother to prepare some of the dishes he used to like. He
ate heartily, but a few missing front teeth were giving him some problems. He was still crying out “Karai
neh Jotu neh”. As I watched him, I realised we had all aged. I still could remember, sitting on my
bangku, watching this tough young Japanese soldier with rippling muscles, dripping sweat, effortlessly
pounding rice for my mother. How she would have loved to see him again.
He then related to us what had happened to him after he left us in August of 1945. After he left
Butterworth, he was sent to a Prisoner of War camp in Taiping. There, he spent 2 years before being
sent back to Japan. He said he was too ashamed to get in touch with us, especially after telling us the
Japanese army was invincible. After some years in Japan, he got married and had 2 children. He told us
how every day, his wife and children had to listen to him, talk about this Navaratnam family in
Butterworth, who treated him like a son, and how much he wished he could visit us. And it was god’s
will that his prayers were answered. The next day, I had organised dinner at my place, and my wife
prepared some Chinese dishes which he enjoyed. We finally bade him farewell, and that turned up to
be a final farewell. He died soon after his visit to Malaysia. His daughter Riko rang my sister to inform

her about this sad ending. She said “My father’s wish all his life was to be able to reunite with the family
that cared for him when he was a young lonely boy, serving on the Japanese army in Malaya. He
managed to live long enough to fulfil this wish. He died in peace. Your family will always be part of our
family. Sayonara Aunti”We were all deeply moved to hear this sad end to a friendship that spanned
over 40 years. Sayonara Awoyagi san.)
The Japanese atrocities committed in Penang has been a topic of frequent discussion. The Policing by
their Kempeitai was some what equivalent to the German Gestapo. The Penang Shimbun, the local
paper, produced by the Japanese, kept us informed (a doctored version) of the world news. The head of
the Kempeitai was Suzuki. He was short, podgy, with a thick mustache. He used to travel in his fast
speed boat, standing behind, holding on with one hand to the flag pole and the other hand on his sword.
The story goes that he could make the trip from Prai (where he was stationed) to Penang in 8 minutes.
When we were on the beach, we often saw his boat racing across the sea, Japanese flag flapping in the
breeze, and this arrogant monster, with a smirk on his plebeian face, standing behind the boat. His
speciality was ‘head chopping.’
One Sunday afternoon, my brother came rushing in very excited-Suzuki was going to chop off the
head of two Chinese prisoners who were caught stealing food from the Japanese Camp. It was to be at
the field, by the side of the beach, near the BRC Club. My father immediately decided to go , and both
he and my brother rushed through their lunch. In the mean time, I got myself ready and was standing by
the door. My brother took one look at me and said “We are not taking him”. My father patted me on the
head and pacified me ”You are too young”. They then rushed off. I went to my room and cried my heart
out-always too young. I am tired of being a ‘thambi’.
Some 3 hours later they came back to relate the story, both so excited that they had witnessed a
beheading.(My brother didn’t tell us until much later, he was scared, and had stood far away).My father
had squeezed himself to the front, and had a clear view o f the execution. The prisoners were first given
a spade each, and ordered to dig their own graves. Suzuki stood around ,with his hand on his sword,
watching, as the other Japanese soldiers organised the execution. When the graves were ready, the
crime committed by the prisoners was read out to them. The prisoners were then directed to get on
their knees, with their hands tied behind their back, heads down facing the grave. Suzuki stood gloating
, looked around, to make sure everybody was watching, unsheathed his Samurai sword, lifted it up,
brandishing it around for effect, and then with both his hands gripping tightly on the handle, and with a
mighty cry, “Banzai” wielded the glittering sword, and with one blow, chopped off the head of the first
prisoner. Blood gushed out of the bare neck like a fountain. He the kicked the body into the grave. The
crowd suddenly went very quiet. A soldier then stepped forward to wipe his bloody sword with a rag. He
then strutted to the other prisoner, who was on his knees, in tears, and begging for his life. With aplomb
and arrogance, he then went on to chop the other prisoner’s head. He then turned to the crowd and
told them “This is what happens if you steal from the Japanese.” “Wakarimasuka, Wakarimasuka ” “Do
you understand. Do you understand”. A soldier wiped the blood from his sword. He then put it back
into the sheath, took one last look at the petrified crowd, and with a wry smile on his face, got into his
motorcar and was driven away. The shocked crowd slowly dispersed. They were informed that the 2
heads would be displayed at the main Butterworth Junction. We all sat transfixed, listening to this
horrific story. My father who was always very practical said “We must all go and see the heads this
evening”.

That evening, the family took a walk up Bagan Luar Road to the Butterworth Junction. There was
already a large crowd milling around. The heads were displayed on two poles on opposite sides of the
junction. I remember when I saw the heads, the eyes were open and bulging out. We could see bloody
stringy stuff coming out from the neck- which I now realise must have been the carotid artery and the
jugular veins. For some strange reason I wasn’t frightened. I didn’t have any nightmares that night.
Following this beheading, Butterworth was free from petty thefts. I remember we never closed our front
doors at our house until late at night.
Soon life began to settle down in Butterworth. This incident was slowly forgotten, and everyone
went about their daily routine-my father cycling to work daily, my mother managing her daily chores
with the help of her maids.
My brother found another Japanese friend named Emai San. He was a Bomber pilot and lived in one
of the huge colonial style houses at Jalan Pantai, by the Butterworth beach next to St.Mark’s Church. All
these houses used to be occupied by the “orang puteh’ from the Eastern Smelting Company. We could
never ever dream of visiting these houses before. The house was close to our Government Quarters. We
were therefore thrilled, when my brother told us we were invited there for a meal. My brother, my
sister and I walked there and we were warmly greeted by this very handsome Japanese. He had
European features and was very fair. He took us to the large lounge overlooking the old golf course, and
seated us on huge ‘cushiony’ chairs where I sank so deep into the cushion, I had trouble getting up. He
then called his Chinese maid to bring us some food. She soon appeared with a large platter of cut
papaya, and a bowl of hard boiled eggs. We couldn’t believe our eyes-so much food. At home we had to
share 1 or two eggs amongst the 6 of us- and that if we were lucky if the hens laid their eggs. He invited
us to eat, and we shyly enjoyed this feast. I remember we visited him a number of times. By then we
were able to speak Japanese fluently, and enjoyed his stories about the beauty of Japan. He told us
after the war he would take us skiing in Mt.Fuji. Japan’s most famous Mountain. Unfortunately he was
suddenly transferred before the end of the war, and we lost touch with him. After the war we did make
efforts to contact him in Japan, but failed. He had a touch of class, and carried himself with dignity.
My 3rd sister aged 9-10 was given a job as a telephone operator in a Japanese company. She would
answer the phone with “Moshi Moshi” “Hello”and then pass it on to the appropriate connection. She
also helped to serve the tea and coffee to the staff. By then she was able to speak Japanese. She used to
walk to work with her good friend Jessy. This small income must have helped to contribute to our
meagre budget. This went on until School reopened and she had to attend school. Today the idea of
sending a child to work at that age is unthinkable. But war has that effect on normal sensible people. As
I look around at the war stricken countries today and see children fending for themselves, I can
understand why my parents agreed to her working.
Schools reopened in late 1942.We all went to St. Mark’s School now re named Daikoindogakko. We
started attending classes in Japanese. Every morning school began with a general assembly. The whole
school would meet in the middle of the school field, and stand in the early morning rising sun , looking
towards Japan. As we sang the Japanese National Anthem Kimigayo, the school prefect would slowly
raise the Japanese flag on to the tall flag pole. We would then bow our heads towards Japan, as a mark
of respect. After this ceremony, swinging our arms in unison, we would briskly march back to our class
rooms. We began the day greeting our teacher “Ohayo gozaimasy sensei” good morning teacher. He

would in turn say “Ohayo gozaimasy seito”-good morning students. Classes then began, first learning
Japanese songs and dancing. Then we were taught Japanese, both written and oral. Very soon all of us
were speaking Japanese fluently. There was also a lot of emphasis on physical education and daily we
had a class on Rajio Taiso-Japanese style free exercise.This is still practiced in Japan in the parks and
daily for the staff in factories.
Empertor Hirohito’s Birthday was a major occasion. On that day the whole school as well as other
government servants had to assemble at the BRC padang for a special ceremony. It began with raising
the Japanese flag and singing the Japanese National Anthem Kimigayo. And after the ritual of bowing
towards Japan, there followed numerous speeches in Japanese, and all this under the blazing midday
sun. Some students fainted and had to be taken off the field. Following this long drawn out ceremony,
we then had to march around Butterworth town. We loved the marching part. We were each given a
Japanese flag, the Hinomaru(the rising sun) and we felt important waving it around as we sang the
Japanese song ‘Aruke Aruke’, and the famous ‘Naval Marching song Gunkan March ‘(which I still enjoy
humming) and walked around Butterworth town, being cheered by the large crowd lining the streets to
see this march pass, and parents trying to spot their children. Marching was a big part of the Japanese
war culture.
My eldest sister went to a Japanese teacher’s training college in Penang called Nippon Kindanhan for
one year. After graduating she started teaching Japanese in a Tamil school in Prai. My brother had to
take her on a bicycle and leave her at the Prai River where she used to cross in a sampan. Awoyagi who
also worked in Prai, some times used to pass her in another sampan. He would stand tall in the sampan,
with the annoyance of the sampan man, and salute my sister and then both would have a big laugh.
Later in the evening my brother had to go back to fetch her. And he never grumbled-and he was just 13-
14 by then.
My eldest brother joined the Kunrensho, an Officer Training Institute, which was a semi military style
residential school for the training of Asians in both academics and unarmed combat. It was stationed at
Chung Ling High School in Ayer Itam. The daily routine began with a roll call at 5am.This was followed by
a 5 mile jog, then a Malayan style bath(pail and water from a tub) and breakfast. They had regular
classes in Japanese in the morning and Judo in the afternoon. My second brother used to visit him, with
food parcels my mother would have prepared earlier, cycling a rickety bicycle with hard solid tyres(
tube tyres were no more available) called ‘tyremathi,’ which he borrowed from a friend at the Marine
Police at Beach Street and made his way to Ayer Itam, and this was no mean feat. Once when he was
cycling along Penang road the tyre got stuck to the old tram line, and came off. He had to push his cycle
to a cycle repair shop(fortunately there was one nearby)and got it fixed. At the end of the day, he used
to complain of a sore bottom, riding on these ‘tyremathi’.
My eldest brother used to visit us on his off days, proudly wearing his Japanese uniform and the
Japanese hat. I used to be thrilled to see him in uniform, and kept bugging my mother when I could also
join the Kunrensho. One day, during one of the judo sessions, he was thrown and fell on his arm and
broke his elbow joint. He was rushed to the Penang General Hospital, and he was lucky that they were
able to use the last POP plaster that was available. The Indian Doctor, whom my father knew well, told
us how lucky he was. He was off Judo but he completed his training and ended up with a good job.

We children had to entertain ourselves as best we could. After school we used to roam around the
kampongs playing the seasonal games such as ‘tops’ and ‘marbles’. Once in a while the Public Service
Van would turn up at the BRC Padang at night, to show some documentary films. It was always about
the mighty Japanese air force and army, and how we should be grateful to them for freeing us from
‘White Slavery’. I vividly remember the sinking of the British Navy’s pride HMS. The Prince of Wales and
the HMS. Repulse by the Japanese torpedo planes. I remember seeing the young Japanese Kamikaze
pilot wearing a white towel with a Red Dot in the centre, tied over his forehead, opening the cockpit
and waving a farewell to his friends, shouting Banazai, as he dived into the funnel of the Prince of Wales,
and how it exploded with a mighty bang. I know now that these scenes were filmed by other Japanese
pilot’s with cameras placed on the nose of their planes, and exaggerated for propaganda purposes. But
we always had a great time lying down just below the large screen to get the best view.
The sinking of Churchill’s pride HMS Prince of Wales and HMS Repulse off the coast of Kuantan by
Japanese Torpedo Bombers on Dec.10 1941 shook Churchill. Only 3 months earlier he had met President
Roosevelt on board this battleship which he considered, indestructible. It was fitted with the latest High
Angle Control System anti aircraft guns. Unfortunately because of the humidity in Malaya the System
failed. But the critical tactical error made by the Admiral Tom Philips (who commanded the Z fleet),
for not calling for air cover, was the fait accompli, that led to the sinking of these two ships. Repulse
did call for air cover when they were attacked, but it was too late. Admiral Philips and the captain went
down with the Prince of Wales. Later, it is mentioned ‘Haruki Iki’, a Japanese pilot, flew back over the
site of the sinking, and laid two wreaths, one for the Japanese pilots who died, and another for the
British sailors who displayed bravery in defence’. Churchill reflected, when he heard this news “Over all
this vast expanse of water, Japan was supreme, and we every where were weak and naked”.
The importance of air cover for battle ships was only then realised. We also now know the part
Lord Sempell, a decorated World War 1 pilot, working with the Naval Admiralty, played in providing the
Japanese with secret military documents, via the Japanese Attaché Toyoda in London, that helped the
Japanese to prepare this invasion of South East Asia, with Singapore as their primary target-their prize.
Then there was the stubbornness of Percival, who was the GOC for S.E.Asia then, who refused to
prepare to defend North West Singapore, because he said “Defence is bad for the morale”. All the guns
were facing the sea as he expected a Japanese invasion by the sea. General Yamashita, famously known
as the Tiger of Malaya, led the Japanese invasion of Malaysia. Viewing the scene from the roof top of
the Palace of the Johore Sultan, with ‘sang froid’ then masterminded the invasion of Singapore and its
fall and its final surrender on the 15 th of Feb.1942.The British army, had to stand in a row, by the road
to greet the victorious Yamashita. At the surrender, sitting in front of Percival, Yamashita thumbed the
desk and demanded an unconditional surrender, which Percival agreed to. With this ignoble defeat of
the British, one could see the first chinks appearing in the might of the British Empire. It is true they
regained Malaysia, but the wheels of independence began to roll soon after the war.
Things were settling down, and people were getting used to the new life style. Food was rationed,
and we were all given food coupons, and we had to queue up at the back of the PWD Office, to collect
our weekly ration of rice, sugar etc. from a rude local Government Official named Maniam- it was the
locals who made life difficult for us. He always made me and my sister feel he was doing us a favour,
double checking our coupons, and giving us a close look. My mother’s pride, her flower garden in front
of our house, was converted into a vegetable plot. We grew beans, drumsticks, papaya, banana, curry

leaves, sweet potato and ubi kayu and kangkong. When I was hungry I would roast a ubi kayu in the hot
simmering coal fire, and savour it, while sitting on the door step of our house, looking at the traffic
passing by. We some times got a treat when our friend, who worked with the Japanese, brought over
this delicious glutinous Japanese rice with stuffing’s of mushroom called mochigome. Wheat floor was
not available, so my mother used to improvise. She would boil sweet potato, and then mash it to a fine
paste, and then make roti chanai with it. It was a big hit, and our neighbouring friends, Tuan Peng and
Tauler looked forward to this delicious improvisation of my mother. I still dream about this delicious roti
that my mother used to make.
The Japanese occupation brought families and friends together, as they struggled to make ends
meet. The camaraderie amongst neighbours was special. We happily shared our little ‘kueh’ with each
other. On a night, when there was a full moon, the elders gathered their chairs and sat on the moon
drenched terrace in front of our house and, while we children ran around playing “Hide and seek,” they
enjoyed their juicy gossip. There was no traffic on the road in front of our houses after sunset, and we
ran around freely hiding in the bushes around, and enjoying our game.
Medical service was provided by the Butterworth General Hospital run by Dr.Danaraj (later Tan Sri
Dr.Danaraj). His house was in front of ours, but he was a very private person. One night, I was having
high fever, and my father asked my eldest brother to take me over to his house to see him. When we
arrived at his house, and my brother sheepishly asked him if he could see me, he pointed to the
Hospital and told us “Go to the hospital and never ever to come to my house”. That night my fever was
very high and I was delirious. My brother then went over to our neighbour, who was a dresser(now they
are called H.A) and asked him for help. He promptly came over carrying his ‘doctor’s’ bag and after
checking me over, decided to give me an enema to bring down the fever.It worked and I eventually got
better. The only antibiotic available was sulphadiazine and even that was in short supply. Aspirin(Aspro)
was the only antipyretic available. But we survived in spite of these limitations. We were relieved when
Dr.Danaraj was replaced by Dr.Saravanamuthu who became a close friend of the family. But we made
sure we always saw him at the Hospital and queued with the general public.
There were always rumours circulating about anti Japanese elements, trying to over throw the
Japanese. After the war we came to hear about Force 136 and its role in British plans to retake Malaya.
One evening my 2 brothers were at Butterworth Mitchell Pier having a cup of coffee and a fag (that
was the cool name for a cigarette. My father would have killed them if he saw them smoking). Suddenly,
as they looked over towards the Butterworth Wharf, they saw a Japanese ship, which was carrying cattle
and horses, on fire. The horses in panic, were running around wildly. Some were even jumping
overboard. Soon there was mayhem at the Pier. Everyone was running for their lives. The small
Butterworth Bomba (fire brigade) was called, and made a brave attempt, at trying to put out the fire.
When my brothers realised the danger they were in, they dumped their cigarette, jumped on their only
bicycle, and with one on the pillion seat, cycled with all their might to get back home. As they came into
the house they were screaming. “Big trouble. The underground have detonated a Japanese ship”. Will
there be reprisals by the Japanese. Then, that night about 9.00pm, we heard a loud explosion that
rattled our house. This was followed by the sky being lit up like a giant fire work display, with burning
cinders and smoke. My mother grabbed me and my youngest sister, shouted to all the rest, to run
through the back door to our air raid shelter. By now the air raid shelter was crowded with all the other

esidents from our government quarters, all quivering with fear. There we sat huddled together
praying. That was my mother’s answer to dealing with any crisis-pray. It took some hours before we felt
it safe to get back to our house. The explosion we had heard was caused by the boiler of the ship
exploding. The next few days, we could see the Japanese Kempeitai were very active. They were
searching for possible insurgents who could have planned this attack. There was also a rumour going
around that they had found horse meat inside the fish caught around Butterworth. For months no one
ate fish. We never ever got to the bottom of who was responsible for sabotaging the Japanese ship, , but
there were strong rumours that it was the work of Force 136.
In 1942 , Capt.Mohan Singh, a P.O.W , who was later joined by Resh Behari Bose were the
architects who planted the nucleus for the Indian National Army in Malaya. 1943 Subhas Chandra
Bose, was called in to head the I.N.A and with the co-operation of the Japanese ,recruited Indian British
Army prisoners of war in Singapore. They then went on to recruit Indian Nationals from Malaysia. This
army, with the help of the Japanese, was to oust the British from India. A women’s section was also
formed called Rani of Jhanasi Regiment named after the Rani Lakshimibai, the Rani of Jhansi, who
played a leading role in the Indian Rebellion against the British in 1857.They started recruiting Indian
women in Malaya. Most came from middle class families and women rubber tappers , eager to serve in
the cause of the motherland. These women were then sent to Singapore for combat and nurses training.
Chandra Bose on his tour of Malaya, did visit Butterworth, and spoke in English at the Indian
Association, and my father was invited to translate his speech to Tamil.
One day, 3 women from this army turned up at our house. I was thrilled to see these women in
uniform and wearing the Indian army cap. My father invited them in, thinking they were going to ask for
a donation.(In any case he was not going to part with his hard earned money)My mother made her
famous ‘teh tarik’ for all of them. I sat by the front door, on the floor, my favourite seat, feeling the cool
breeze from the sea, and tried to listen to the conversation. Then suddenly I saw my father’s face
turning red and angry. It then became clear that they were there, trying to recruit my sisters for the
army. My father got up and then politely told them to leave. He then told them, in no uncertain terms,
he would never ever agree to allow his daughters to join their army. He also then told them not to come
back.
The attempt by this Indian National Army (with the Japanese Army), to defeat the British in India was
a disaster. They went as far as Imphal. Many men and women died long before they reached India, not
only from injuries from the war but from sickness in the appalling conditions they faced. They then
retreated to Singapore where they finally were disbanded. Chandra Bose escaped on a plane which
later crashed and he died from the injuries he sustained. If Bose had been successful, the course of
Indian history may have taken a different turn-maybe there would not have been a separation. We were
however thankful my father took a stand, and may have saved the lives of our sisters.
Now to touch on the currency used during the occupation. Soon after the Japanese occupied Malaya,
the Malayan Dollar, issued by the British, was discontinued and the Japanese started printing their own
currency. They initially printed 1, and 10 dollar notes with the word ‘The Japanese Government’ and in
English, the word ‘One or 10 Dollars’. The 10 Dollar note had the Motif of a Banana Plant and soon every
one was calling this currency the ‘Banana Note’ or in Malay “Duit Pisang”. Later when the Japanese ran
out of money they started printing 100 and 1000 Dollar notes. The value of this currency kept dropping

as we were flooded with ‘duit Pisang’. At the end of the war it was worthless. Those shrewd people who
had kept the Malaysian Dollar hidden over the years were now able to use it. Unfortunately we were not
the lucky ones.
Most of 1944 passed by without incident. I got into a routine of school, lunch, and play, dinner and
sleep soon after. We had no distractions to keep us awake-no T.V., no radio. I was 8 years old, and had
learnt a new skill of making sailing boats. I used to sail them at the dilapidated Golf club near my house,
during rainy weather when it used to get flooded, or in the drain next to it, carefully weaving my way
around the many crabs with their colourful eyes sticking out of their head, looking like double headed
ETs. Thankfully I never ever met a snake.
Then suddenly in late December we began to hear the drone of planes high up in the sky. Then in
early January the bombing began. Penang was bombed first, and later the planes used to bypass
Penang to Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. We soon learnt these were the latest B29 Super fortress of the
USAAC flying from India. The earlier flights they made were to take aerial photos.
While in school, and when we heard the air raid siren, we were to run to the air raid shelter at the
end of the school field, under the coconut trees, and hide. We however spent most of the time, out of
the shelter, looking up at the sky to spot the B29 planes. We found this great fun-no classes and the
thrill of seeing these planes. In any case, the air raid shelter used to smell of urine, thanks to the
kampong boys, who used it as their personal toilet. We got back to classes once the all clear was
sounded-to our disappointment. Surprisingly, none of us were ever scared.
The ‘hush hush’ gossip around the house was the British invasion of Malaya was imminent. ‘Black out’
at night was implemented. This meant we had to cover all the windows with black cloth, and only use oil
lamps for lighting. We could hear the security guard at night, checking on houses, and shouting when he
spotted a visible light. We soon learnt to eat with this dim light, and spent most of the evening outside
on the terrace, feeling the cool breeze from the sea. It always amazes me, as I look back, how children
are so adaptable in times of stress.
We now know the planning for the recapture of Malaya began soon after the British lost the war. The
clandestine British Force 136 was established by the British who were left behind, after the Japanese
occupied Malaya, and was further enhanced with the arrival of the others. We also know that the Force
136 signed an agreement with the Malayan Peoples Anti-Japanese Party on December31st 1943 to fight
the common enemy –the Japanese. They provided vital information to the SEAC British in Colombo. We
also know that XX Command had flown over Penang and Kuala Lumpur taking aerial photos of vital
Japanese installation earlier before the bombing. The British submarines had also picked up Chinese
fishermen in the Straits of Malacca for interrogation. This was a well planned invasion and reoccupation
of their lost colony. In passing, during the December meeting, the MPAJP insisted that the word
reoccupation should be changed to re-entry-they were worried that the British would go back to their
old colonial ways. They were hoping the British would hand Malaya over to them, and they could form
the Democratic Malayan Government-which was always their stand.
The Penang Shimbun kept their propaganda going, insisting the Japanese had shot down many of the
B29 Planes.

Then one afternoon, while my friend Say Tuan and I, were sailing our boats in the drain next to the
golf club, we heard the loud sound of a low flying plane. We looked up, and we saw this huge plane
flying very low over my house, and suddenly the ‘belly’ of the plane opened, and out came hundreds of
paper, which I later learnt, were called pamphlets. We picked up our boats, and rushed over and joined
the crowd that had gathered, and we managed to pick a pamphlet each. Then, I could only read
Japanese. This was in English. I carried it home shouting in excitement at what I managed to retrieve. My
father took it from me and read it and his face showed relief. I still remember his words addressed to my
mother “The war is over. Japan has surrenderd unconditionally.”He then sat down by the open door,
looked out , the sea breeze gently ruffling his fine hair, and began to reflect what this would mean to all
of us.
The original plan was for the British to invade Malaya in late Sept.1945. Force 136 and the M.P.A.J.P
would lay down the ground preparation to control the roads. Then on August 6 th . the Americans with
their B29 ‘Enola Gay’ dropped the Atomic bomb code named ‘Little Boy’ on Hiroshima and B29
‘Bockear’ 3 days later the Atomic bomb code named ‘Fatman’ on Nagasaki. The devastation both these
bombs caused would haunt the crew of the planes for the rest of their lives. The controversy, whether it
was really necessary to use the Atomic Bombs , when we know the Japanese were on the point of
defeat, still rages on. On August 15 th Emperor Hirohito, in his speech to his people, said Japan accepted
the provisions of their (USA, Britain, China) Joint Declaration and went on to say “However, it is
according to the dictates of time and fate that We have resolved to pave the way for a grand peace for
all generations to come, by enduring the unendurable and suffering what is unsufferable”. The word
surrender was never used. Many in Malaya heard it on Air India. The Japanese soldiers were devastated.
As I mentioned earlier, Awoyagi rang that evening, in tears, to inform us about this shattering news. The
Japanese left on the 25 th August, all Japanese shops in Penang closed down on the 27 th , the British war
ships arrived in Penang on the 29 th and the British occupied Penang on the 3 rd of Sept with a formal
ceremony at Swettenhem Pier on the 5 th .
I remember , soon after the declaration of surrender, one evening, seeing the Japanese army
marching past our house on the way, I know now, to the Prai Railway Station, to be taken to the Taiping
Prison. They only had their bag packs-no guns. We looked out for Awoyagi. When we spotted him, he
kept his head down, as he passed our house. I was told not to wave at him as it would embarrass him.
Soon after, the British soldiers arrived, and some of them occupied my school. We used to stand below
the balcony of the school, calling out to them, and they would throw down sweets, chocolates and
‘chewing gum’, something we had never seen before. They showed us how to eat them and reminded
us not to swallow them. They were very friendly and enjoyed the company of us children.
Soon things began to fall into place again. My father went back to work in the District Office, with a
Eurasian Mr. Stewart as the D.O. Some time later, school reopened and we began a full syllabus of all
the subjects in English. Because I could speak English well, I pretended to read the nursery Rhyme given
to me to read, and I was immediately given a double promotion. My eldest sister would go back to a
English Teacher’s training college. The rest of us were back in school.
The sudden realisation that the Japanese occupation was over, took sometime to sink in. As the days
went by, it soon became a memory- for us it was a mix of fond memories and hard times. I will always
remember Awoyagi, dripping with sweat, pounding rice for my mother, and later eating my mother’s

curry, relishing it, and shouting “Karai neh Joto neh”, spicy but great, I will always remember our
exciting trip across the Malacca Straits on a sampan with Ibrahim, our sampan man, I will always
remember sailing my boats in the drain next to the dilapidated golf club and having the time of my life,
then I will also remember with horror, seeing the heads of the two Chinese, whose only crime was
stealing food for their starving children. But the Japanese Occupation taught us how to cope with
hardships, and value the good things of life. I also realise now, the pivotal person that saw us through
this very challenging period, was my mother-her ability to innovate, her calm presence in time of crisis,
and her inner strength from which we all drew confidence. She was a very ‘Special Person.’ Maybe I can
call her “A woman for all seasons”
The ‘raison d’être’ for this article, is to enlighten our children and grand-children, on the ‘trials
and tribulations’ their parents and grand-parents had to cope with, as they faced some of the ravages of
war, and the occupation by a foreign country. This war, also showed us the dents that appeared on the
mighty British Empire, and helped Malayans believe they would succeed in seeking Independence. But
we also know how, after the thank you, and hand shakes, and the handing out of Medals to the
members of the CPM, the British were not going to hand the country to the CPM-they were here to
stay. The CPM then decided to go back to the jungle, to fight the same battle against the British, they
started, when they first surfaced in late 1930’s. And then we were engulfed with a new horror-THE
EMERGENCY.
Bertrand Russel once said “ War does not determine who is right, only who is left”
Dwight Eisenhower, after the hard fought World War 2, and seeing the carnage war can dish out said
“Every gun that is made, every war ship launched, every rocket fired, signifies in the final sense, a theft
from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed’.
He also said “ I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality,
its futility, its stupidity”
Acknowledgements:
1.Wikipedia:Malayan Campaign
2.Wikipedia:Japanese invasion of Malaya
3.Wikipedia:Sinking of Prince of Wales and Repulse
4.Wikipedia:Rani Lakshmibai
5.Wikipedia: Subhas Chandra Bose
6.Wikipedia: ‘Banana Money’ 1942-1945
Dato Dr.N.Paramaesvaran
nparamaes@msn.com

7.PaulH.Kratoska:War and Occupation in Penang 1941-1945
7.Chin Peng-My side of History-as told to Ian Ward and Norma Miraflor
8.Mr.V.S.Sundaram for proof reading and invaluable suggestions
9.And Lastly my brother and sisters for their input and support to record this challenging period in our
lives