Arthur Ogwen Jones

Here are some short extracts from the closing entries written in 1945 by Gunner Arthur Ogwen Jones 12904, in his POW diary. Posted to Singapore from the UK in 1938 by virtue of his job with a shipping company, Arthur had volunteered along with many others in early 1942 (Singapore Royal Artillery - volunteer, and 1 Straits Settlements Volunteer Force). He was taken prisoner with the Surrender of Singapore.

Tuesday August 14th 

It is four o’clock in the afternoon - at twenty past three a flash from Delhi Radio was intercepted here to the effect that an unconfirmed report had just come through from a Japanese news agency - ten minutes later Delhi announced that the news was official - that Japan has signed the Allied terms.

Wednesday August 15th

It is just 10.30 am - half an hour ago we learnt that Atlee has announced that the war is over and that the Emperor will speak to the Japanese telling them so.

Unfortunately a very critical situation has arisen in the last ten minutes - it is rumoured that the commander in charge of the Japanese army in Malaya will not surrender and that front line troops are now being drafted into this area. Whether this is just a story put up by the Japanese to maintain law and order, we do not know - but if they do fight on, our position here is a very, very serious one indeed. It would be wise for me to destroy these pages forthwith but I will take a last risk in the hope that everything will work out all right. 

All we feel now is a horrible suspense but we are trying hard not to believe the rumour - meanwhile arrangements are going ahead regarding the disposal of the sick from here by hospital ship - though I might add that the Japanese have told us absolutely nothing yet.

I will not write any more now - perhaps we shall know what our fate is to be later in the day - this is the sort of crisis which calls for the utmost fortitude and I am trying hard to look on the bright side.

It is now five pm and there is an air of very considerable relief everywhere - it is suggested that this morning’s set back was a misinterpretation of a broadcast speech last night from Singapore by the Japanese general commanding forces in Malaya - he did say that they will fight on - but only until such a time as he receives instructions to surrender from the Emperor - and he must have had these by now. Nothing official has been told us yet by the Japanese in charge of this camp but there are signs that they know their fate - unfortunately we can’t very well admit that we know all that is going on in the outside world but I have little doubt that they realise that we know what has happened - again unfortunately, we cannot help ourselves to the reserve rations until we are officially told things are finished.

Sunday August 18th

There was a bit a fun yesterday - all of a sudden all the ack ack guns round the Naval Base started to blaze away and though there was the sound of a plane, it wasn’t visible - everyone’s spirits immediately sank and some people think the war will never be over!

What is more important is that the Camp Commandant informed our C.O. last night that from now on he can issue all the rice he likes - so it looks like an admission of the present situation - we have been on so small a ration for so long, the ration is to be increased slowly so as to avoid sickness - thank God we can look forward to a square meal at last. He also stated that we may get the balance of Red Cross supplies from Singapore - so there is every prospect of our doing much better at long last - by the time Mountbatten arrives, my weight may be up to 100 lbs!

Later - manna has at last arrived! - About five this evening, rations started to come from all directions, including Red Cross supplies - there are rumours of a real cigarette issue and everyone is suddenly very happy - a good meal or two and I shall be able to appreciate the amazing fact of fast approaching freedom with a little more understanding. Our last days are going to be crowded days in more ways than one - all the working parties have come back from S’pore and I am now allowed a sleeping space five feet by two - I hope Mountbatten comes quicker than ever now! So it does appear as if things are really brightening up - it still pours down with rain relentlessly but spirits are high and the future is so utterly marvellous - I just want to leave here quickly now and really get started on the way to you - and I shall be with you as soon as is humanly possible.

Sunday August 26

Tonight has, I suppose, been one of the momentous occasions in my life. On the hospital square a small stage was erected on which was placed a table draped with the British, American & Dutch flags - a simple bronze crucifix and pots of deep crimson gladiolus - when the thanksgiving service started, there must have been 2,000 present with many walking sick, whilst in the nearby wards the bedridden, many of whom cannot live to reach home, listened on. A Scotch padre read the prayers - simple, dignified, with myself trying to grasp the fact that I have come through one of the most incredible periods of hardship, suffering and danger men have yet known - it was only when we observed a minutes silence for the thousands who have died, here and in Thailand that I could grasp the full significance of having escaped alive and tolerably intact. 

Rarely has the setting sun fashioned a more beautiful evening sky - great streamers of crimson on a canvas of tremendous green, with the evening star gleaming wanly in the dying radiance of the day - I remembered the horror of those jungle camps, the filth and the cheapness of life - I thought of all the terrible sights I have seen. I thought, too, of the many who tonight in England are waiting with happy eagerness for news of their loved ones - of the heartbreak when they learn in the near future of their deaths for example, 29 men in my cattle truck to Thailand - seven of us here tonight left alive - men walking out into the jungle to die because they could suffer no longer.

Then came the ‘Last Post’, the sad sound of the bugle bringing the pain of the sorrow which those of us who are left will never quite forget - then the quiet, sorrow shaken voice of the padre speaking - 'They shall not grow old, as we (who) are left grow old - Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn - At the going down of the sun and in the morning - we shall remember them’