FROM JAMAICA TO JAPAN

The Diary of a Hong Kong Prisoner of War

Thomas S. Forsyth

rev 2011.04.14

ISBN 978-0-9868875-1-2

Copyright © 2011 Angela Forsyth

Published by Yellow Dog ePublishers at Smashwords

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This book has been published in eBook format by Yellow Dog ePublishing with the kind permission of the Forsyth Family.

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This ebook was published in print Nov, 1995 with a second printing in Dec, 1996

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the memory of Nursing Sister Kay Christie who died of Lou Gelurig's Disease, and to all nurses who served in War and Peace.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1: 1939

Chapter 2: 1940

Chapter 3: Jan to Aug 1941

Chapter 4: Nov to Dec 1941, The Hong Kong Diary Begins

Chapter 5: 1942

Chapter 6: 1943

Chapter 7: 1944

Epilogue

Introduction (from the printed second edition)

I suppose my military experience started as soon as I was able to understand what people said during their conversations. My father served in WWI and re-enlisted shortly after the start of WWII. With a bedroom off the livingroom of our little frontier home I was able to listen to the stories during evening visits of other veterans of WWI. Looking back, I think I was a fully trained soldier when WWII began. Nevertheless because of age I didn't don a uniform until almost two years after Tom Forsyth. I was never granted permission to call myself a Canadian Marine as I sometimes refer to my Army and Navy involvement during WWII, but it was through those experiences that I came to know and understand the story of the Winnipeg Grenadiers.

As one whose trails have crossed and recrossed with those of Tom Forsyth, I should explain our initial awareness of one another came during the publication of Sherry McNair's book - "Soldiers All". In the Prologue I'll reveal some of the "trail-crossings" but having written the above paragraphs I feel I have sufficiently introduced myself to establish the credibility of the following statement, "The pages of this book contain the heart-rending truth of Tom Forsyth's service during WWII as told by his diary. His day-to-day records while a prisoner of war of the Japanese, following the fall of Hong Kong, make one wonder at the endurance of the human mind, and the physical stamina of the human body."

As "mind-pictures" transport each reader across time and space to the days of World War II, some of those pictures will not be complete without knowing that the Winnipeg Grenadiers had just arrived in Hong Kong to take over their duties as part of a Garrison-type force tasked with its protection when the Japanese invasion took place. The battle that ensued was not of the kind where troops from opposing armies, arrange themselves on a battleground. It was enacted as an interjection - a happening - which interrupted the routine of Garrison duties. For that reason Tom Forsyth's Christmas, 1941, was specific unto him. Other members of his Battalion, although at the same place, at the same time, undoubtedly would have had similar - but maybe much different recollections of that day. As time passed and prisoners-of-war were allotted to "work gangs" the pages of the diary reflect a settling-down to routines. The routines were brutal however. Few of the Canadian prisoners, if any, were allowed the circumstances under which to dream, to know anything of their families, or to know what was happening in the world outside their small sphere of daily existence.

In the late summer of 1995, my wife and I journeyed to Reston, Manitoba, to meet Tom Forsyth and his wife. Not only did we discuss this book, but we enjoyed two memorable visits at the Forsyth home.

The purpose of this introduction is to explain the preliminary nature of the first printing and describe the changes of this, the second printing.

Before launching into the initial pages of the diary the reader should realize the Forsyth family came from Scotland to the farmlands of southern Manitoba at the turn of the 20th century. With that heritage it will be easy for those with a knowledge of history to understand why Tom Forsyth "rallied to the colours" shortly after war was declared in 1939.

The diary begins then and of course reflects the newness of Tom Forsyth to military life. It also reflects the unpreparedness of Canada to cope with World War II. No uniforms, few weapons, and a lack of training-base facilities was far from what may have been expected on mobilization. Only the experiences of a few World War I veterans prepared Tom Forsyth and his newly recruited comrades for the days that lay ahead.

Tom Forsyth's diary was taken from him when he returned to Canada after almost four years as a Japanese prisoner of war. Recently it was given back.

Distance causes limitations and those limitations transpose into time. The first printing, only 25 copies, understandably contained military abbreviations and initials of fellow Grenadiers instead of names. This issue still has many of the abbreviations, but provides a glossary of terms. With few exceptions all initials have been turned into names, making it easier to identify personnel and follow them throughout the book.

The final pages include some of the hundreds of details gleaned from Tom Forsyth's keepsakes, newspaper clippings and letters.

For now, let me say, I am proud to have had a small part in producing this book. It has been a privilege to have known this gentleman who wore the badges of a "Winnipeg Grenadier!"

Chapter 1: 1939

This is the diary of a Grenadier, at present billeted in 387 Kennedy Street, Winnipeg. One who enlisted on the 30th of September, 1939.

Gleanings from the diary of a Winnipeg Grenadier

My name is Tom Forsyth. I was born near Pipestone, Manitoba, on April 26, 1910. Lived and worked on a farm till I enlisted with the Winnipeg Grenadiers at Minto Armories on September 30, 1939. Drilled for weeks in civilian clothes till we were issued with last war uniforms with 1916 stamped inside the tunics. Moved into Fort Osborne barracks just before Xmas. Left Winnipeg on May 21st, 1940. Several days before, we were issued with billfolds by the Grenadier Ladies Auxiliary; I still have mine.

Reached Jamaica May 31st, 1940, where we relieved the King's Shropshire Light Infantry who went further south to Curacao, part of the Dutch West Indies, where they guarded huge oil refineries. Our job was simply garrison combined with guarding a camp which contained (by the time we left) over a thousand Germans and Italians and some notorious local characters including Bustamante who has lately caused such an uproar in the island's labor situation.

Sat Nov 4, 1939: Bright, cool, clear day. This morning we had PT (Physical Training), then platoon drill and a route march. We came back to 387 Kennedy St. for dinner where I found a letter from mother that John and Kay had a son. Did a little shopping in the afternoon, took laundry to Gin Song and in evening had shower at Y. Snowing before supper but cold and clear tonight.

Sun Nov 5, 1939: Bright, cool and clear. I got up at six this morning, got my breakfast and was up at 194 Main Street at 8:30. We fell in about 8:45 but didn't move away till 9. Headed by the band, we marched to All Saints and had a short service. Then back to 194 to be dismissed. When I reached 387, Ruby and Orton were there. She was getting something out of her trunk which is stored in my room. By the way, they are to be married on the eleventh. Whilst coming back, I saw three soldiers taking pictures of each other on the steps of Knox Church. They called me over to take a picture of the three of them. The church really made a fine setting.

Acting on orders, we were back at 194 at 1:30, and were marched down to the Beacon Theatre, where, to our great surprise, we were entertained by a Mickey Mouse film, a Donald Duck picture, one of Popeye the Sailor, a feature "Crime Does Not Pay" and "The Littlest Diplomat", an army picture of Frontier India. Then there was juggling, dancing, acrobatics, and a lady sang, "Are You Having Any Fun", "An Apple for the Teacher", and some other songs. Nearly brought the house down. The Major spoke a few words saying you didn't have to drink and be tough in order to be a good soldier; that it wasn't smart to be drunk on the street, it was just being stupid. The doctor added his opinion on the prevalence of many men to take advantage of the sick parade, and how he hoped to see less of this deplorable tendency.

Tonight I went to Knox Church, and after the service, I met Stanley Shippam and Lillian Robertson. Also, Anne Wright and Daisy Walker stayed for the young people's. Mrs. Black spoke to me about the dance on Hallowe'en Night and asked me my name.

Mon Nov 6, 1939: Beautiful weather. This morning we had physical training, then stripping practise in taking a machine gun apart and putting it together and learning the names of the parts.

After dinner rifle drill and then a discipline march with rifles at the slope and Bardal commanding. He was in a mean frame of mind.

Tonight a large number of Ruby's wedding presents were in my room. I helped carry them into Sam Nichol's room. Orton came along and took me in his car to 161 Maryland where Hoe and Herb were visiting Mr. and Mrs. Harper. Spent a pleasant quarter hour and returned.

Tue Nov 7, 1939: Beautiful forenoon, cloudy and cold after dinner. About half past ten, we went up for another medical examination. We were weighed again. I gained ten pounds since September 30th. Measured our height, mine same; looked at our eyes, tested our reflexes, all normal.

Put in a steady afternoon in squad drill and rifle handling under command of Corporal T. Cuthill.

Tonight we boarders ate in the kitchen as a tea was in progress for all of Ruby's friends. They kept arriving all evening and parading up to Sam's room to see the presents. The sound of laughter and voices is all through the house.

Wed Nov 8, 1939: Another fine day. No. 4 platoon, to which I belong, had to report at 8 o'clock to have a sample of their urine taken. After PT, we marched to Sherbrook to the public baths and had a swim and a shower; just cost a nickel for a towel.

In afternoon, sports, football, baseball, volleyball and boxing. I had the gloves on with Clubb. They were an old pair, worn out, rough and broken. I got a bit of skin knocked off my upper lip. There is a rumour our new uniforms may arrive next week.

Last night I had a card from John announcing the birth of a son, Donald Ewing, born Nov 1, 1939; weight 8 lbs, 11 1/2 oz. I told Jean to find a suitable present for him.

Thu Nov 9, 1939: Fine forenoon, but windy, dusty and cloudy afternoon. PT as per usual, then rifle and bayonet drill. After dinner, we went on a route march carrying rifles. When we reached barracks, we had more rifle drill, Stand easy, attention (slope arms, 1 pause, 2 pause, 3, correct those slopes, magazine on shoulder, forearm level with the ground. Order arms or change arms, or present arms, or port arms for inspection, and ground arms.)

Tonight I went to the Y for a shower.

Nov 10, 1939: Some dry, frosty snow was lying about this morning where it had been driven by the wind during the night; quite cold walking to the barracks. Met three girls with poppies on the way and one just outside the main door of the barracks. Her fingers were so cold she couldn't pin a poppy on me. There were three more females just inside the big arena. It was strange to see them there; women are a rarity.

We had our PT inside, then machine gun drill on mechanism and sighting. After dinner, route march with rifles, and then field craft signals such as deploy, halt, advance, lay down, and others. Then before dismissal, we were told to report at bus depot Graham Street for X-ray at 7:15. When we arrived, we were lined up and marched to Medical Arts building where we stripped to the waist and stood up against the machine which took our picture in a second. Then we were free to go and I went to see the picture "Pygmallion" with Leslie Howard and Wendy Hiller. It was a clever story, well acted and I enjoyed immensely.

Sat Nov 11, 1939: A full holiday today and fine weather. I spent considerable time reinforcing buttons on my tunic as one came off; and shining brass on belt. Listened to the Queen speak at 2 o'clock.

Orton and Ruby were married at St. Matthews at four. All the women from 387 were present at the church. They say after the ceremony, Ruby almost ran down the aisle nearly dragging Orton. The couple got away from the church so fast that the crowd had no chance to throw confetti.

I went to the Y for a shower. Bill Hicks arrived back at 387 last night.

Sun Nov 12, 1939: Beautiful day. Church parade to St. Lukes. Band playing. After dinner Melvyn phoned, said he'd be over about 4 in the afternoon. After supper, Mel and I went to the Dandy's. Tom Reid and a nurse friend were there and we spent a very pleasant evening. Mel and Herb are two fine fellows.

Mon Nov 13, 1939: Mild and calm, wonderful weather. Had PT in the morning and then machine gun drill inside and out I was in Corporal Kravinchuk's class. He speaks with a strong foreign accent. An instructor from the Pats was criticizing the drill out on the parade ground. He is a relentless disciplinarian.

After dinner, went on a route march, only D Company had rifles. So mild we didn't wear our greatcoats. Arrived back, each man was issued two pairs of socks and a pair of woollen mittens. Then we went below and had a lecture from Bardal. A great many questions were put to him regarding military law, such as when is a man drunk? What can a soldier do if he is assaulted on the street? What redress has a private if an officer swears at him? To the last, Bardal told Payne that the private must have given the officer good reason to swear.

Went for a shower and swim at the Y tonight.

Tue Nov 14, 1939: Another beautiful day. Had PT period and those wearing puttees had to take them off for it. Then rifle sentry drill with bayonets, after which we had our first observation route march.

Afternoon was solid machine gun drill. We have to learn in two weeks what it took the P.P.C.L.I. (Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry) two years to learn, so Corporal Harris told us.

Frank Misner was here at 387 Kennedy Street, when I got back from barracks. I got Sam to cut my hair. After supper, Vera phoned. I went over to 490 Dominion Street. Mr. Bradley's party went on. When I got back, guests were leaving. Frank won first prize.

Wed Nov 15, 1939: More like September weather than November, couldn't be warmer, nor calmer. After P.T, we had squad drill. The first Grenadier, B. Company, is dead. He died yesterday in the hospital from pneumonia. His body is being shipped back to his home in Rainy River. During the forenoon, the band and a picked squad were doing the dead march, practising to see that the parade to the train would be okay.

Afternoon was spent in sports. I saw George Teale; he didn't go back to England after all. He is trying to enlist. Before we were dismissed, we lined up and stood at attention while the Last Post was played for the first death. I walked part way home with Bert Carriere. He was boxing instructor at M.A.C. last winter. Jim knew him well.

At supper time, the phone rang. It was Tom Toppings. He and Jim Sproat were at the Corona Hotel; I went to see them. Tom gave me a swell pair of knitted gloves. We saw a show, "Mutiny In The Big House". Got home at one. Had a letter from home tonight. Payday this forenoon, got 30 dollars.

Thu Nov 16, 1939: A trifle cooler today. PT and machine gun drill in the forenoon, route march and an hour of boxing training in the afternoon. Tonight Sam and I were invited over to see Doug and Iris; a very pleasant evening, but this makes the third night of going to bed at one o'clock. I am desperately sleepy as I have been getting up at six.

Fri Nov 17, 1939: Another wonderful day, just a little cooler. After PT, we had machine gun drill till dinner. Then company drill till three, when those who wanted to train for boxing under the leadership of Carriere broke off and had a certain amount of instruction in the basement.

Tonight after supper. I went to a boxing tournament held in H.B.C. store, third floor, sponsored by the Camerons.

Sat Nov 18, 1939: Fine day again. After PT, we had a lecture in the basement, from Bardal. The Winnipeg Grenadiers were first organized in 1908, but the Scots Guards with whom we are allied, have been in existence for three hundred years. We had a route march with the band. Afternoon off. I bought "Free Land" and sent it away. After supper, Sam Nichols and I went to see "The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex". It was a great picture but a terrible one; how people could be torn between love and ambition, and wreck both their lives because of pride and stubbornness.

Sun Nov 19, 1939: Windy and a little cloudy. We fell in at twenty to nine at 194 Main, and paraded to All Saints where I fell asleep during the sermon. Spent the afternoon answering letters and polishing brass. Tonight almost everyone went to Grace Church to hear Jean Valjean.

Mon Nov 20, 1939: A little cooler today. PT and then machine gun drill inside the barracks. Some of the men were issued new boots. After dinner, we had a long route march with our rifles; wearing greatcoats. We were pretty warm. Then back, and each platoon had its picture taken; those with toques borrowed caps from other platoons. Finished up with more rifle drill. Port arms for inspection, etc.

Tonight, a big crowd across the street from 387. All lights out here; Sam Nichols fixed them. Tonight two books in the mail for me, "I Was a Spy" and "First Over Everest".

Today a man called Windsor from WWI joined our platoon; he was a S.M. before his unit was disbanded. Now he is a private but he is a good machine gun instructor. The first, in fact, to tell us to take our time and be sure we were right before working at top speed.

Corporal Barnett has not been seen since Wednesday when he was on a spree. He claimed to be an Australian.

Tue Nov 21: Glorious weather again. After PT and inspection, we had a period of rifle instruction on pressure of the trigger and how to load and unload. Then a route march with rifles; first time we have marched due west from Minto for any distance. After dinner drew stores and had machine gun drill outside. Got a ride back, after dismissal, with a Great West Insurance agent who said they paid Valley's $1,339.00 to his beneficiary, although no actual premium had been paid, he had only applied for insurance.

After supper tonight, I went to a Y jamboree; very good program.

Wed Nov 22: Cloudy, windy, little cooler. PT, roll call, inspection. March to Sherbrook baths. All must take at least a shower or swim. Back to barracks, squad drill, dinner, after which we were issued caps and boots; then sports.

Letter from mother tonight.

Captain Tarbuth told us to wash our boots with lemon juice to take off the film of grease, or we would never get a polish on them. I tried the lemon and then spent half an hour trying to get a polish on them, but all to no avail, they remain as dull as ever. The surface of the leather is not smooth, it is rough and pebbled. They are made by Valentine and Martin, Montreal. I asked for a 7 1/2 cap and was given a 7 1/4. It is really too big and feels stiff and awkward, after wearing a balaclava.

Thu Nov 23: It must have rained during the night, puddles lying about, heavily overcast, a raw breeze. Went out on parade ground and took off our caps and coats for PT when we were suddenly ordered inside again; had some PT in barracks. Then more instruction on cleaning a rifle and general care, then observation route march. Dinner. Then rifle drill, slope arms, order arms, present arms, port arms for inspection, release springs, loosen bolts, etc.

About three, we left on a route march which ended up at the University of Manitoba where we had a lecture by Williams, K.C., etc., on "Causes of the War". Very good indeed. We were dismissed outside the building. It was snowing and blowing, looks very wintry. My new issue military boots are very heavy; the right one feels fine, but the left hurts like the very devil over and around the instep there is a rough seam on the inside of the shoe.

Saw Olive Reid in the Bay and she said Seth was asking for me. I'd sure like to see him, he is a good fellow. Dropped in at the Y and reserved an alley for tomorrow night; had a hair cut. This forenoon, I was called out for guard duty, but when they saw I had not yet been issued army trousers, I was returned to the ranks.

Fri Nov 24: Heavily overcast, raw breeze. We did our PT inside the barracks today, it was pretty dusty Spent the entire forenoon on machine gun drill. Going into action and stoppages and their remedies. Hall, from A, who went to Ottawa, is back with three stripes. He never saw a machine gun there, he said. All PT and rifle drill, seven hours a day. Would not believe we did our PT and machine gun drill on the hard, dirty cement floor of the central arena in the barracks. Said at the barracks in Ottawa, all had mats or tarpaulins or sheets of some kind to lie on.

After dinner, we went out on a route march with rifles to within a half mile of the air field. The men complained considerably about their feet owing to the new boots being so stiff. My left foot is quite sore across the instep. We had a little drill on rifle sighting before we were dismissed; told to hold the sights upright first rule. Then get tip of foresight showing in bottom of U in rear sight and aim for the central bottom half portion of your target.

Tonight a bunch of us from 387 went bowling at the Y, had all sorts of fun.

Sat Nov 25: Heavily overcast, a raw feel in the air. I walked to the barracks with a fellow who told me he and his wife were separating. She was insanely jealous of him and their life together was misery. She doesn't want to sign back her share of pay.

We had PT in the basement of the barracks, then company drill with rifles, followed by lectures by Phillips and Bardal on military law and use of arms in war.

Walking back to 387 up St. Matthews saw a large crowd around car and truck which had collided. No one hurt. After dinner had shower at Y. Took shoes to the shoemaker to get them stretched and shined.

Sun Nov 26: Cool, but clearing a little. Church parade to St. Lukes. Both our Corporals at Machine Gun School. McCarthur took charge of No. 4.

Tonight I went to Knox Church. Clarke spoke on Rip Van Winkle. Afterwards, went to Y where they held a sing-song and then showed some slides of old Bill which dated from the last war. Back to 387, Jean is thumping the piano and singing hymns.

Mon Nov 27: Clear and frosty this morning, but fine afternoon. We had PT outside this morning and then muster parade followed by machine gun drill till dinner. After, platoon drill on the parade ground with rifles practising left and right wheel, with a line of fifteen men takes a bit of doing to bring the line around in a straight formation. Then a route march with rifles out to Christies Biscuit factory, a halt some distance westward of it where we piled our arms for the first time using the piling swivels. Rumour says Mennie was discharged today because he couldn't stand the marching owing to loss of a big toe; also that he was going to a job in Swifts.

Back at 387 this evening, found a letter waiting for me from Vera Pettypiece; she is at Portage la Prairie. After supper Jean playing and singing again.

Today we had our sizes taken down for running shoes which will likely be used for our PT periods.

Tue Nov 28: Clear and quite frosty. Walked to the barracks with a man from A Company, who told me the story of his life, of a happy marriage, a wonderful dog, of a second unhappy marriage and a heartless woman who fleeced him out of $3,000.00 and of his present girlfriend.

PT period out on the parade ground. Then Battalion drill inside for Colonel Kay, then stiff squad drill with rifles outside till noon. After dinner (during which Parrott and I each drank a quart of milk) we had battalion parade with rifles all over again outside. Pretty darn chilly without our greatcoats. Sort of funny, RSM and his dinner plates to mark left wheels. And then the plates disappearing. Finished up the day with elementary machine gun drill. Tonight, a letter from Dave. Sam and I saw a wedding in Knox Church.

Wed Nov 29: Clear and frosty. Roll call and inspection inside and PT outside. Then A Company marched off for a swim except those of us who were still wearing civilian trousers. We waited in line for the issue of army trousers. Besides pants, we also got a pair of police suspenders and a pair of puttees; mine don't even match, different materials and one has the edge hemmed.

Then we adjourned to Company room where Sergeant Roberts gave us a lesson on assembling and disassembling the lock of the machine gun until dinner time.

Sports in the afternoon, I had the gloves on with Hawes for one round and Clubb for one round. Carriere had them on with Davis, the slim guy with moustache and gold tooth. When Allen and Davis had them on, each got a little peeved.

Just before dismissal, word went 'round that a list of names was up of those who were eighteen. They will be struck off the Active Service Force since you must be nineteen before you can go overseas. All those under will be sent to the depot and held in reserve until they reach the proper age.

Tonight, while eating supper, Parrot came along with a P.P.C.L.I. tunic (of his brother's) and a pair of puttees, the former simply reeks of horse as the wearer was stable boss. I must get it cleaned.

Sam and I went to the Walker Theatre to see the G.B.S.'s play "Geneva"; it was splendid.

Thu Nov 30: Marvellous weather, clear, calm and warm. Got a lift this morning with some R.A.F. men. PT outside, then a lecture from Phillips after roll call and inspection, on Esprit de Corps. Then pay parade ($34.00) and platoon drill till twelve. After dinner, we had piling rifles until three, when we paraded to the University of Manitoba to hear a lecture on the geographical structure of France. We were dismissed outside after and I went straight to the Y and had a shower. After supper, I went to 374 Edmonton to see three very charming girls, the Lothians.

Fri Dec 1: Overcast and very mild, a light shower during the night. We had PT outside, then roll call and inspection and machine gun drill right till dinner. At noon, Olafson and Stabisky had a row over a dollar lost in a gambling game and the gloves were procured and they repaired to the basement, followed by a large and enthusiastic crowd. Finally Olafson was floored and struck his head on the cement floor and the fight was stopped. But neither were reconciled and the latter is still breathing out fire and slaughter.

Then we had a lecture in the basement that was very hot and stuffy; three or four guys went to sleep. Then rifle drill. After dismissal, we were issued cap badges, the bursting grenade type. I asked at the Officers Kit Shop (there is an attractive girl there) what price they set on them and she said $1.50; Large tunic buttons $.15, small $.10.

At noon today, it was snowing and blowing quite heavily; rather nasty walking home.

Sat Dec 2: Clear and cold. We had PT inside where it was stuffy and dusty and not at all appreciated. Then we adjourned to the Northern gallery and had machine gun signals from Lance Corporal Vickers, followed by a route march led by Lieutenant Phillips. The concrete was alright but the asphalt was very slippery with a thin film of ice on it.

Sun Dec 3: Clear and milder. Church parade started from the Old Stadium ground and proceeded to All Saints. In the afternoon, the Metropolitan Theatre was open to the soldiers; a good program. Went to Knox tonight. Clark preached on the "Grapes of Wrath".

Mon Dec 4: Wonderfully calm and mild. PT inside, then a film on visual training; a landscape reproduced in miniature targets to be picked out and rifles in stands to be aimed at them. Then a short period with Corporal Cuthill stripping the lock. After dinner, we had squad drill on parade ground practising the slow march. Then a route march out to the airfield. Tonight Jean brought her friend Kay home for supper. Quite attractive, but too thin.

Tue Dec 5: Another beautiful day. I don't know why they have PT inside the stuffy, dusty barracks. After inspection (the first since Saturday) we drew rifles and had rifle drill till ten, then went on a route march out past Christies Biscuit factory.

After dinner, we had a session of machine gun drill concerning the firing of the lock. Then we drew rifles again and went out for visual training. Six men were hidden over the landscape and we had to detect their presence and sight them.

Tonight a letter from England. I had a shower at the Y. Oh yes, in the afternoon, a large number of us were asked who our next of kin was and it was taken down. We wondered why since it was all taken down before,

Wed Dec 6: Splendid weather, we had part of our PT outside today. Then we paraded to Sherbrook baths. The water was swell. After dinner, we had the choice of sports or going to see “The Lion has Wings", at the Capital. Most of us joined the parade and admission was twenty-five cents only, and it was a splendid show. Letter from mother tonight.

Thu Dec 7: Gorgeous weather, more like early spring than the beginning of winter. Had part of our PT outside. Then drew rifles and went up for a lecture from Doctor Crawford on V.D. and were issued warning cards and told if caught without them, we would be crimed for it. After which Lt. Phillips spoke on the organization of a battalion. I was among twelve men detailed to carry newly made and painted Sentry Boxes out of the basement, out the north side and around in front of the barracks, one set on each side of the short approach into the main gateway on south side. The paint wasn't quite dry and some came off on our hands. Our platoon practised changing guard out on the parade ground until dinner. During the dinner hour, Carnegie, who is broke, sold tickets on his fountain pen at ten cents each. Forbes won the draw. Gard and LaFortune fought in the basement, a grudge fight. The former did not last long. He took a lot of lefts and rights to the head and suddenly lost his enthusiasm and decided he had had enough.

Some of the boys have their running shoes, they had to pay eighty cents for them. After dinner, we had a stiff period of squad drill, then at three we set off for the U of M where we had a lecture by Prof. Osborne. He has been in France in the last forty years and certainly knows what he is talking about. He said we should go to France prepared to admire and imitate the French and not to hold stubbornly to our own language, manners and customs. If we do this, the French will come to like us??? They are the most brilliantly intellectual people in the world, according to him?? Their language is the most concise(?), the most logical(?); they believe in quality not quantity, nor mass production. They produce the finest wines in the world, yet they are the most moderate drinkers(??). I shook the professor's hand afterwards and told him I enjoyed it. I think it pleased him!!!

Tonight was military night at the Metropolitan and the Grenadiers were supposed to be special guests, but we paid thirty-five cents like everyone else. While the sing-song was in progress, one quarter to nine, we were on the air for about ten minutes over CJIRC and while our band played. The show, "Rulers of the Sea", telling of the first steamship that crossed the Atlantic, was very good. There was an old lady sitting beside me who said the early inventors struggled with steam and the steamboat reminded her of her husband when he was inventing a machine to eradicate couch grass! But evidently he did not meet with success. Her name was McFarlane.

Fri Dec 8: Cooler today, windy and cloudy. Had all PT inside, then company drill with rifles outside and practise in sighting a rifle till dinner, after which we had lessons in machine gun mechanism and cleaning, then a lecture downstairs on locating targets by the clock methods.

Sat Dec 9: Fine day again. Had PT outside, then went for a long route march; ended up with company drill. Had a shower after dinner, did a little shopping.

Sun Dec 10: Heavily overcast, snowed a little in the night, colder. We fell in for church parade at legislative buildings, marched to St. Luke's and afterwards were dismissed where we fell in.

I went to Knox this evening. Saw, from the top row in the gallery, Norma, Kay Lothians and Emily Miller come in. Clarke preached on "The wrong type of Christian", taking Peter as his first example, when he cut off the ear of the servant of the high priest.

Mon Dec 11: Cloudy, a strong south wind blowing, dust in the air. A big shake-up at the barracks today. It seems we are over-strength and instead of four platoons in a company, there should only be three. So the first three were strengthened from four and then the remnant, about twenty out of A Company, including myself and Corporal Harris and Corporal Temple, were sent to Headquarters Company. We fell in with them and marched to the Y for a swim.

After dinner, we were in the basement for a warning lecture from our new officers, then a bit of drill and up and out and we had our pictures taken on the north side of the barracks. There is a lot of ill feeling with the transfer to Headquarters. Naturally, we resent being forced to leave A Company.

Tonight Jean showed me a Teddy bear she had gotten for Donald Ewing and we wrapped it up and talked for some time.

Tue Dec 12: A stormy morning, snowing and blowing, colder. We are not properly organized at all yet in our new so called reserve company. We missed our PT because there didn't seem to be any room for us anywhere. All we did into the forenoon was a little rifle drill.

After dinner, we drew rifles again and had to do the same thing over until we were called into room 40, which we were told was to be our new company room, and Colonel Kay gave us a little talk. He said we were in reserve simply because the battalion was over-strength, but that we would go overseas at the same time as all the other companies.

Letter from Dave tonight and one from Anne, saying she would be in Winnipeg on the 17th at 6:30.

Wed Dec 13: Quite frosty this morning but clearing. Marched to the public baths for a swim and had a roundabout march on the way back. After dinner we went below and started on machine gun drill when the order came to pack stores, so we moved out and up and the whole battalion went on a route march. When we got back before four, we were dismissed as it was too cold to have sports outside, and the Air Force, which had increased greatly this week, wanted to drill in the big arena inside. I had a hair cut at the Y, then went downtown and bought some Christmas cards, etc.... When I got my laundry tonight from Gin Song, there were two linen handkerchiefs wrapped in cellophane, a Christmas gift for me, he said.

Tonight I went to a three-act play put on by Great West Life. We were given tickets for it today. It was a comedy called "Pigs". It (the play itself) was mediocre, but the acting was excellent. Peggy Lyons was outstanding.

When I got back to my room, I found a pair of dolls in my bed, twins; some of Jean's work I'll bet.

Thu Dec 14: Rather a raw sort of day. All the Coys went to lecture but us, the so-called reinforcements. We did rifle drill. Pay day today, $28.00, but twelve goes for board as per usual. The Air Force have fur caps now with blue cloth top.

Fri Dec 15: Milder today. We had machine gun drill all morning, general description, stripping and stoppages. Lance Corporal Harris must have been on a bat last night, as an instructor, he was simply rotten. Temple was far better.

After dinner, we had rifle drill till five o'clock, with a short period outside of combined marching and rifle drill, all the rest being in the stuffy, dusty basement, with a few short breaks.

The other Coys got their equipment, i.e. packs and kits, helmets, etc. We will likely go into barracks on Mon(?). Light rain in afternoon, very slippery everywhere. Carriere paid me back that quarter. He is a Lance Corporal now.

Sat Dec 16: Raining steadily this morning. We were issued our web equipment, pack sack, kit bag, steel helmet, etc. Spent the afternoon Christmas shopping. Jean and I washed my webbing tonight.

Sun Dec 17: Quite misty this morning. We assembled at HQ on Main and marched to Knox. There were Camerons, R.A.F. and Fort Garry Horse there, as well as Grenadiers. A lot milder today.

I am holding Betty Toppings.

Decoration Day Reston, Manitoba, Canada

Part of C Company on parade square the day we left Fort Osbourne.

On the ranges drilling with Vickers. St. Charles, Manitoba

Winnipeg Knox United Church, we finally have our battledress

Chapter 2: 1940

Mon Jan 1, 1940: Presently occupying Fort Osborne Barracks. This morning, I was detailed to help the Post Corporal, but the duties were light today. I just carried parcels and mail across the yard. Most of the men had passes and went out today, but I stayed in. The dinner was fairly good, turkey and plum pudding. We have a radio in our dormitory; we all put in fifty cents apiece for it.

Tue Jan 2: Seemed to spend most of the day cleaning my rifle and polishing brass. Canteen tickets of one dollar and two dollars were issued today as nearly everyone is broke.

Jan 3: Laundry bags are issued, it will cost us one dollar per month to have our laundry done. We have been issued a khaki shirt and a pair of second hand khaki drill trousers to be used for fatigue. A dozen of us are on fire piquet or fire drill.

Jan 4: Still on fire piquet, we pull a cart carrying a reel of hose and man the ladders, etc. Had some good stew for dinner and rice pudding. Canteen tickets were issued, some men were dragged off to the guard house.

Jan 5: I was ordered to pack up all my belongings and with Burden and Bresinski, we were driven to 194 Main Street where HQ is situated and twenty officers are quartered. I am ordered to be a batman to Lieutenant Jones and Harper. But our duties are legion, everything from scrubbing, washing, dusting, besides polishing the Lieuts. buttons, belts and boots.

Jan 6: Well, we finally moved into Fort Osborne Barracks on the Wednesday before Xmas; had a gruelling march there in our greatcoats, and carrying every ounce of our equipment, even our steel helmets and our rifles, plus our personal belongings.

Life in barracks is quite a change, up at six, in bed by ten, lights out at ten fifteen. Food very plain and roughly served, mostly bread and meat and potatoes; how I miss salads and fruit and pie! There are a lot of fatigues, sweeping, dusting, scrubbing or working in the kitchen, peeling spuds or washing dishes. The dishes for eight hundred men take a lot of washing. Fur caps have not been issued yet, and one fellow standing guard at the main gate froze his ears pretty badly.

Inspection is stricter and sometimes vicious. Lieutenant Symes caught a private with one button on his tunic undone, and he grabbed it and tore it off. I was on fire piquet and fire drill for three days, our squad or detail would run madly around the streets of Fort Osborne (there are so many buildings it looks like a village) pulling the cart loaded with a reel of hose, stop when the officer in charge ordered, rush to the nearest hydrant, attach hose and play it out to the supposedly burning building, undo a joint and attach a nozzle. Meanwhile, the ladder crew carrying the ladder had run up and put the ladder up to a window. We would take turns running up the ladder carrying the hose and climbing in the window.

Well, yesterday morning I was sent to HQ at 194 Main St., which is a very old building and poorly heated. There are five other batmen here and two cooks, the chief cook is Corporal Forsyth, an old white-haired Scot who reminds me of Jock Mitchell. Over twenty officers eat here, and we have a lot of dishes to wash and floors to scrub, as well as look after our own two officers' equipment, polish boots, buttons, belts, make beds and endless fussy little jobs.

A very curious thing happened when we were at Fort Osborne. Some Grenadiers got in trouble downtown and there was some doubt as to the identity of the one most wanted, so a police patrol wagon drove into the garrison and a dozen men were picked at random (actually two from each Company) and we were driven to the Police Station. My first and last ride in the Black Maria. One joker started to sing "The Jailhouse Blues". Once downtown, the vehicle halted at the curb as the guard called for a second head count of the inmates. When the doors swung open wide, the astonished public saw the patrol wagon was crammed with Grenadiers. The sight excited much unseemly mirth among the passersby and some rude jests.

The wagon was backed right into the station, we were escorted through a maze of passages, past cells full of frowzy individuals who stared with wide open mouths till we were under the white glare of overhead lights, which blazed down on us. We lined up in single file and the suspect was shoved into the centre. A little Chinaman walked down the line and picked out the suspect who made the mistake of leaping at him like a wolf. The suspect was detained and we were driven back to our respective stations in life.

Jan 7: Very cold here at 194 Main Street. There were lots of cockroaches at Fort Osborne but I don't see any here, it must be too cold for them. The Cpl Cook tells me this building was condemned twenty-five years ago. Some water was spilled on the washroom floor and it leaked through and dripped on the officers' heads below, and they came up raving mad. There is a running feud between the Cpl Cook and his assistant Bobby McLeod. The latter can be very aggravating in a dozen different ways. But there is a regular vendetta between the kitchen staff and the officers. The latter are always finding something wrong with the food. The cooks hold up the roasters, etc., that have no enamel left on them and pots without handles or lids. I never saw such a beat up assortment of pots and pans. Even in Cain's pulp camp in 1934, old Bill Tait had better utensils to work with. Of course, we are never ready for any war. That is why we were drilling in civilian clothes and carrying 1918 rifles, and being billeted out when no barracks were available for us. We have a very strange government as far as national defense is concerned. I feel more blunders are in store for us.

My afternoon off, I went to 387 and had an invitation to Doug and Iris's for supper. Went to the Y, answered five of the seven letters I owe. Then went to Doug's on Agnes just off Sargent, Corrinne building. Charlie and Marj were there, and a Percy De LaRoque. Had an excellent supper and played Chinese checkers.

Jan 8: Snowing today. I took out Jones' laundry and pressed Harper's pants. Got a key of my own to let me in here after eleven at night. Regular rush changing sheets and pillow cases. Extra work polishing all the silverware and the huge presentation cup and trophies.

Jan 9: Quite a scuffle at breakfast when Burden sat in Caswill's place; pressed trousers at noon with an iron borrowed from across the street. Regular row about rations when the Captain Quartermaster came down from Tuxedo. Macklin sick in bed all day; Doc came tonight. The full corporal cook (two stripes) Jim Forsyth, wanted rations a day ahead so he could plan his menu. The QM said he had to get them the same day he used them. Bobby McLeod (much against his will) had to phone Tuxedo to make an apology. He used some profane language and was told that every phone message was subject to military censorship.

Jan 10: After all the usual chores, I had to scrub out the vile garbage pails.

Off this afternoon, sent a picture to Isobel. Went to Miss Ethel Hart's for supper, and dined sumptuously. Among other things, I ate four eggs. She had been the private secretary for T. C. Norris, and had a large collection of scrapbooks all dealing with his political life. She also had some great stories about B. Hart.

Met Bobby McLeod, the second cook, with two girls, Doris and Mary. Madec had bitter words with Burden this afternoon. Not all my laundry came back, socks and hankies missing. Never had that trouble with old Gin Song.

I took Harper's trousers to Crystal Cleaners and had a large stain removed, so had them pressed as well. Capt. Crawford, our M.O., inoculated us for lockjaw, we will get another shot in six weeks. These will render us immune for one year. The batmen are playing poker although it is against all regulations to play for money. When McKinnon came with the ration party he said D. had been taken to the asylum and 0. had broken into a place on Portage and the police were holding him. There is bound to be a few rotten apples in every barrel. I went out and had a haircut after dinner. It cost me thirty-five cents at Bill's Barbershop. The QM was in tonight checking on the number of blankets each man had, and voicing violent disapproval when he saw McLeod had a mattress, instead of a straw pallias. E, one of the drivers for the officers was pretty drunk last night. He once owned a half interest in a hotel in Melita. He was born in Spain, his mother was a native of that country.

Jan 13: Major Simmons became incensed when Bridges was slow in obeying an order and put him in the kitchen, put Bowes in the bar. Free beer came in for the staff. I sold my bottle for ten cents. The Colonel (Kay) was here for supper. Bowes and Bridges and Caswill were being sent back to Tuxedo, Madec sick all day.

Jan 14: My afternoon off. Went to the Playhouse Theatre for a free show for soldiers. A newsreel was shown, then everything from Highland dancing to a performing bear. I went to Adamson's for supper. Walter Nicholson was there. He is taking a course in air conditioning. Eleanor Blakely was there, too. She came up from Rochester to offer her services as a nurse overseas. We went to church together and heard young McDonald, the junior minister at Knox, speak on the Lost Generation, in which he included himself. He said they were lost to religion and the church. I saw Eleanor back to her boarding house. She is worried about her girlfriend who married a drunkard. It is darn cold on the ears with this peaked stiff military staff cap.

Jan 15: Twenty-eight below. After dinner, we were driven out to Tuxedo to get paid. I got a pair of leather mitts but all the sweaters had been issued. A new batman came out to take the place of Bresinsky, his name is Fred Hales from Stoughton; he afterwards became a tailor. He knew Harry Richardson who worked for Dave.

My pay amounted to eighteen dollars. From my window at the foot of my bed at 194 Main, I can look out and see the city traffic. Three funeral processions have gone by since I came here. Tonight Purse, Hales and I went to the Amphitheatre rink to see the Monarchs beat the Rangers four to one. Very cold walking back, especially on the ears. When we got back to HQ, someone had lit a fire in the fireplace.

Jan 16: Clear and cold. A big mess dinner tonight. Cleaning silver. Leaves cancelled for afternoon on account of dinner.

Jan 17: Bridges in hospital for tonsillitis. I am supposed to look after Bardal, as well as Jones and Harper. I had supper at Adamson's. Afterwards, Eleanor, Mr. Johnston and I argued about religion, psychiatry, etc.; Johnston walked back to 194 with me afterwards.

Jan 18: More cutlery arrived for the kitchen and common beer glasses for the mess table. I had to pay for Harper's laundry. Bought a pair of slippers. A letter from England posted Dec 30 took a long time to come.

Jan 19: Captain Baird said a case of diptheria had developed at Tuxedo and we were all under quarantine. Crawford, our M.O. asked if any of us had sore throats. There is general indignation over quarantine.

Jan 20: Now they tell us no quarantine, just confined to barracks. What is the difference? I played three games of ping pong with Macklin and won them all. This afternoon, ten of us went on a route march, the head cook remained behind to cook, and two others who wouldn't go were put on fatigue. We marched at a good stiff pace. Sergeant Simmons kept razzing Bobbie McLeod, asking if he could keep up, or if he wanted to fall out. Our laundry sent out on the army plan has not returned. The Sergeant's transfer went through, he is a Grenadier now, but does not have our uniform, just our cap badge. He still wears the Fort Garry breeches. Tonight the officers all went to a party at Tuxedo, came back and demanded a lunch about two in the morning.

Jan 21: Clear and sunny. Had to wash dishes before breakfast. Mopping kitchen and tidying up Harper's room. After dinner, another route march, the sergeant met his wife, very attractive.

Jan 22: Burden and Whalen intoxicated. After dinner, we were driven to Tuxedo and issued socks, shirt and sweater. Tonight Fraser and Bill Harkness were in. Whalen has the dirty job of pots and pans and mopping floor. Burden fell off the stepladder, has a big purple bruise on his forehead.

I went to Adamson's for supper, Johnston had bought some haggis, the first I ever tasted, it is very rich. When I got back to HQ, Fraser brought in a very attractive girl he called Sig or Zig. He was a fool to bring a female. There are strict rules against that. Luckily, she didn't stay long.

Jan 24: This afternoon, the Ladies Auxiliary had tea in the lounge, and they had a lot of eagle-eyed chaperones with them. So we had a lot of extra dishes to wash. Sergeant Simmons has a new battle dress and conjunctivitis in one eye, went to hospital.

Jan 25: Johnny Frankiewitz took his rifle to the armorers at Minto for calibration. He will go to the M.O. May have his tonsils out. The officers wanted a late lunch tonight and Don Phillips came up for it. I was talking to Bardal and Birkett afterwards. Jones is back, he was a veteran of the First World War. He has often lectured us on how to cross a river with all your equipment; he says he took a battalion across a river in WWI.

Jan 26: Bright and sunny. Our rifles were sent to Minto Armories for testing. My rifle's serial number is 14832. Woodhouse and Hawkins on the radio tonight.

Jan 27: My rifle came back from the ranges absolutely filthy. It took an hour to clean it properly. Tonight I was ordered to help Sergeant Simmons serve drinks at the bar at a dance at Tuxedo. I said, "Why me?" He said, "Because you don't drink." The bar was for the sole conveniences of the officers and their wives. I was chipping ice and washing glasses, and when the Sgt stepped out for a dance, I served drinks. "One scotch" was one ounce of whiskey with water and ice, sold for sixteen cents. Martini cocktail was twenty cents, a John Collins, a long drink, was twenty-one cents. Colonel Kay is middle-aged, well above the average height, going bald and a bachelor. He is a veteran of WWI

Our improvised bar was in one corner of a lecture hall on the second floor. The officers and their wives were writing on the blackboard and generally fooling around, and one grabbed the towel I was using on the glasses and used it to clean off the blackboard. The Sgt finally rescued the towel, but the glasses were rather cloudy after that.

Looking over the women, there were a few who were remarkable for their poise and elegance, and one was our M.O.'s wife, Mrs. John Crawford. She could have been a model in any salon in any big city.

I never found out the name of one who winked wickedly at me (after she had had a few drinks). It was a late night and after all the guests were gone, I still had to use a broom and pail and mop. There is always some idiot who spills drinks or drops glasses. There were no tips or bouquets or votes of thanks.

Next day, we were driven out to Fort Osborne for an Army issue, a winter cap and overshoes.

I have had only one egg in the Army, which the second cook slipped to me on the sly.

We are not only under the close scrutiny of the officers, but also under the baleful eye of a Sergeant who once belonged to the Fort Garry Horse. He still wears riding breeches and puttees. His favourite sandwich is two thick slices of buttered bread and between them, equal parts of sliced Spanish onion and cheddar cheese, (don't forget the Watkin's prepared mustard). He casually informs us at least once a day, that if we do not obey his orders, we can get twenty-eight days detention with loss of pay.

Jan 28: Went to 387 in the evening and Jean, Mary, Eleanor, Walter Bradley and myself went to a spiritualist meeting, just for a lark.

Jan 29: Tonight I went to see "The Hunchback of Notre Dame". It was a horrible picture.

Jan 31: Lieutenant Harper was taken to General Hospital for an operation for appendicitis. I took some of his personal belongings over for him. Baird talked to him this evening. Driven to Fort Osborne to be paid. Roads very slippery.

Feb 3: Macklin is in bed with lumbago or rheumatic fever. He was taken away in an ambulance. Bowes and I carried him downstairs.

Feb 4: Very mild, we are moving out to Tuxedo, loading up everything, even the linoleum off the floor and the paper which was underneath it. There were four truckloads of furnishings, luggage, etc. I took Harper's boots and trousers out to him at the hospital. He was sitting up and talking to his lady friend, N.S. Corke, and said he may be out Tuesday. At seven, we all went out to Osborne, except the cook and Bobby and three of the staff. We carried our equipment up four flights of stairs in Roblin Hall.

Feb 5: We spent all day at Roblin Hall cleaning up the place and getting things squared around. I got a letter from Jack Fotheringham last night and today one from home and one from England and one from Auntie lsa.

Feb 14: Wonderful weather. I went to the Station Hospital here and got some of Harper's effects and brought them to his room. Then tonight I took his pyjamas, toothbrush, etc., out to his home at 255 Centennial Street.

A letter from England.

Medical Sergeant prepared a mustard bath for the Captain QM; Bobby McLeod said a bath of molten lava would be more appropriate.

Feb 17: We have had two inspections by the Colonel, and will have one in the coming week by Brigadier Brown. All the officers and men from Headquarters moved out to Fort Osborne Barracks. The officers are on the fourth floor of Roblin Hall. We batmen sleep in our company dormitories and eat with the rank and file.

We may have our new battle dress for the Brigadier's inspection, the NCO's in each Company have it already. Our meals are improving and only the odd man finds coal in his potatoes or a horseshoe nail in his baloney. Every noon the orderly officer appears during the meal, an NCO shouts "room shun", we all stop eating, and the officer asks, "any complaints?" On one occasion, a private said his dishes were dirty. The officer took his name and number and the private was put on kitchen fatigue for two weeks washing dishes! This is a playful little way they have of discouraging complaints.

March 9: A short leave at Pipestone. John came the day before yesterday with his car. Today, he and I drove to McLaren's, picked up Kenneth, went to Pipestone, Dave and family were in. Kenneth and I took the train as far as Brandon, stayed with Victor and Margaret.

March 10: I saw Jim McKenzie and Marion (she is a natural, unaffected, genuine sort of person). Went to the mental hospital farm, Jim showed me around. I had supper with him and Marion. Tonight saw "Destry Rides Again". We saw cousin Harry McLaren (who was a Major in WW1) and his wife Lyla, Ellis and Eileen, Mrs. McDonald. Then Ellis drove us to the station. Jim and Marion were there to see me off, it was very thoughtful of them.

March 11: Wonderful weather. At three, the batmen were issued one shirt, one clothes brush, one tin of dubbin, one tin of shoe blacking and identification discs to wear around the neck. Also, a pair of deck shoes (that is what they were called), they are oxfords with leather soles and toe cap and canvas uppers.

Lieutenant Harper sent me out in the evening with a message to N.S. Corke, who is in the St. Boniface Hospital and who sent a note back in return. I kept wondering why they don't phone each other, but it's never safe to ask.

March 14: I was issued a new pair of army boots. Hales is getting settled in his tailor shop. I had a letter from Gordon and Kenneth.

March 15: Turned in all the soiled linen and drew fresh for the officers' beds. Fell in for muster parade at eight forty-five, assembled in the drill hall and heard the Colonel give instructions re: voting in present elections. Lined up for pay parade and were given squad drill till it was time to be paid. I only got eight dollars. There is something queer about that. Of course, we have never been issued pay books, so it is hard to check. Even my two uncles in WWI had pay books.

In the afternoon, we were issued the new battle dress. The blouse is alright, but the trousers are too long and too wide and too full in every way. I was glad to get rid of my puttees but sorry to turn in my collar badges.

March 16: I looked after three officers this morning, then after dinner, took my new trousers to Hales; he did a good job of fitting them, only charged $1.25. Both Birkett and Harper went on leave, I didn't get downtown till after six. Jean and Sandy were having a little party and feeling good.

March 17: A letter from Harts. I went downtown this afternoon and got a film for Jean's camera. Had supper and went to Knox and heard Clarke preach his last sermon on marriage. Then Bradley and I took a walk up to the Dominion Theatre and back to 387. Sam Nichol was in with a very attractive girl, his sister-in- law. We had lunch, then Sam beckoned to me. I stepped out and saw that Lizzie Adamson had collapsed at the foot of the stairs outside the house. Sam and I lifted her and carried her into the parlour, laid her on the chesterfield. Phoned Doc Perrin, he came and we carried her upstairs. He said it was a brain haemhorrage, phoned the hospital for the ambulance, which took her to the General.

March 19: Gresham (Captain) is a swell guy. He drove me downtown in his car. I went to 387 and inquired for Lizzie, but there was no change. I paid up my insurance policy premium to the Crown Life.

Had supper at 387. Listened to election promises and to "Fibber McGee and Mollie" and "Treasure Trail". Heard British Bombers are raiding German naval base at Zeldt? Got into barracks on my midnight pass.

March 20: Cpt. Gresham did not come in this morning. Quiet day; in the evening Dave Parrot (from Grandview) and I went downtown and saw "The Light That Failed", starring Ronald Coleman, great acting but a tragic story.

March 21: I cast my vote today. I got a parcel from home. Very pleased to get sox and hankies.

March 22: Got our passes last night. I was to look after Lieutenant Symes this morning. I waited from 6:10 to 9:20, but he never came in so I went out. Had dinner at 387, then Bradley, Walter and I went to the Bijou in the evening and saw "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington". Then Jean, Mary, Walter, Bradley and I went to a certain Mrs. Gislason's to have our fortunes told. She used cards, crystal ball and tea cup. She said I would come back from overseas and live to be seventy-nine; also that I had the ability to become an author.

March 23: Came downtown to the Casa Loma and visited Doctor Mowat and his charming wife. She came from the Orkney's and speaks exactly like Mrs. Fotheringham (Senior). Supper at 387. Bert Martin came in about twenty to eight to say that Lizzie Adamson had died at twenty after seven. She would have been seventy if she had lived to April first. She was always very kind to me. We shall miss her.

I phoned Mrs. W. J. Nicholson. She is coming here Monday. This was to be a poll for voters at 387 on Tuesday.

March 24: Bradley and I went to the morning service at Knox, a very large crowd, then we attended in the evening. I met Ruth and Marjorie Fairlie in the vestibule and saw them back to Sparling where they are staying, talked for several hours, then back to 387 where I was asked to be a pallbearer.

March 25: I asked CSM Adams for a pass for Wednesday afternoon for the funeral, and he said he couldn't issue one till Wednesday morning. A parcel arrived in the mail from Dave and three letters from others.

Walter and I carried tables, chairs and screens from the church to 387, to prepare for voting on Tuesday.

March 26: We were to have a lecture from the RSM, but got caught on an inspection parade for an Australian general. Lieutenant Walker yanked me out of the column of march and ordered me to go to 255 Centennial to get Harper's goods and chattels, and return with them. I took shoes to be repaired.

March 27: Had a haircut. Had my pass at eleven, but had to wait till after dinner to get it signed. Went down to 387, all drove to funeral parlour. Wonderful display of flowers. Over thirty large sprays. Over a hundred dollars worth, so Oswald said. Clarke, of Knox, paid a wonderful tribute to Lizzie. Other pallbearers were Bradley, Black, Shanks, Donaldson and one other. Interment was in Elmwood Cemetery. A great many trees there, would be beautiful in summer. Had supper at 387. A great many friends in; T McSpadden among them.

March 28: Snowed all day, about four inches.

March 29: I took my rifle to have field identification put on, just W.G. and 733 on a disc on the butt and on the handle of the bayonet. Pay parade after dinner, $20.32, then muster parade in the drill hall. I was issued a new cap, wedge-shaped, sits on one side of the head, anklets or leggings and a hair brush.

March 30: This afternoon Parrot and I went downtown and saw "Nor-West Passage", starring Spencer Tracy. This evening, Jean and I went and saw the John Holden players put on "Spooks" at the Dominion Theatre.

March 31: This afternoon I went to see Winnie Rice. Spent a very pleasant hour or two. Supper at 387, went to Grace Church with Bradley.

April 1: B.H. is AWOL, and Burden is away on leave.

April 2: B. still missing and I am getting worried. He has my field service cap with him, borrowed for the occasion.

April 3: No sign of B. or my cap. Snowing heavily. There are some new batmen up here now, McFarlane (Spanky), Ross and Hibbert.

April 4: B. came back, but lost his job as batman; got seven days CB and lost four days pay. Couldn't remember where he was.

April 5: Got a letter from John tonight saying he was staying at the Marlborough.

April 6: This afternoon I went downtown and saw John at the hotel, then we had supper with Doug and Iris. After supper, some friends came in and we played games. Wonderful people. Doug is a lucky fellow to have Iris. She not only has looks, she has charm.

April 7: After dinner, I went to see John and we went to 387 where we had a rousing time with the old gang. Then we went to Fletcher's for an excellent supper and warm sociability that would be hard to equal.

April 8: Sammy Burden back from leave. Tonight John came out here for a visit and we talked up here in the batman's cleaning room, fourth floor, Roblin Hall.

Today I had a letter from Melvin Brandon. He is thinking of joining the Air Force:

April 9: This morning all the officers were crowding into the cleaning room in their pyjamas and dressing gowns to listen to the radio news of Germany invading Denmark and Norway. Tonight we heard the Bremen was sunk with thirteen hundred men aboard.

April 21: Well, I am "on parade" in the afternoon now, trying to catch up on training I missed, but still ordered to bat for Lieutenant Harper.

We went on a twelve mile route march Wednesday afternoon in what they call "full marching order", steel helmets, rifles, webbing, water bottle (it must be full) and bayonet and haversack. Of course, the officers were not weighed down with equipment. All they carried was a small cane or swagger stick. Captain Baird timed us and said we were clicking off a mile every thirteen minutes. We were all pretty stiff next day, it isn't the marching, it's what you have to carry that bothers you.

There are seventeen cases of trenchmouth in the battalion. Some court martial cases coming up, of men who deserted their post while on sentry go, and the Sergeant Cook who is under open arrest for stealing rations from the kitchen.

There is one Grenadier discharged every day; some for physical disabilities, some for desertion, bad conduct, etc., and a small number are being taken on all the time to fill vacancies. A grizzled, old veteran of W.W.I has just joined, he is over fifty. His name is Dave Johnston from Dominion City. He just made the last payment on his S.S. farm, he has a wife and two daughters. He said Mrs. Sandy Fairlie was the first person he ever worked for in Canada. He thought a great deal of Marjory. Said she used to sit on his knee and throw her arms around his neck and he couldn't help kissing her. He said he gave George David his first shave, and Ethel made a terrible fuss.

Then he worked for Tom Forke and Jeffery Lothian and was most anxious to hear about all the old pioneers. He even told me he had a crush on a girl who worked in the Pipestone Post Office, Matilda Faulkner! One winter, he worked for several months for Ben Knudson. He said Mrs. Knudson had a wonderfully, cheerful disposition.

May 21: I am writing this on the train. We are speeding east, evergreens on both sides of the track. We left Winnipeg at nine this morning. Jean Burton and Walter and Helen saw me off. We did not leave from the depot, but took the C.P. from the freight sheds at Lizzie Street. We ate dinner on the train at Kenora. When we got to Dryden at 2:45, we stopped and had a short route march. Some girls got a kick out of marching beside us and getting us to sign autograph albums.. We had a good supper, splendid roast beef. We reached Fort William about nine by our time, or ten by F.W.D.S. time. We are packed into the coaches like sardines. It is very cramped and uncomfortable. Our rifles and kit bags are hanging everywhere.

May 22: Woke up stiff and sore in the upper berth I had to share with McFarland. I saw a moose from the train window. This evening, we pulled into North Bay and stopped for a few minutes. Earlier, we passed through Sudbury and the barren rock that surrounds it, saw molten slag being emptied. Train stopped a few minutes at Matawa after skirting Lake Nippissing. Since leaving Winnipeg, we have seen hundreds of miles of trees, water and rocks.

May 23: Now we are seeing tremendous elms in the fence rows and even scattered through the fields, and the occasional fruit trees in bloom. We are getting into fine, fertile country. The land isn't so wet as yesterday where the fields had water lying in every dead furrow. Now we have pulled into and stopped in Montreal. I slept in a bottom berth last night, certainly a rattle and sway to the train.

We are now passing a lot of long, narrow fields with rail fences, plenty of two-horse teams plowing and discing and even one horse on a harrow.

Very pleasant country east of Montreal; we stopped in Trois Riviere for a few minutes, and at Quebec for a little while. We just heard Salvale left us in Montreal. We were just finishing dinner when the train crossed a tremendous bridge over the St. Lawrence. We stopped at a village where some little French girls came along and the men threw them nickels and dimes. They blew us back kisses.

Still some big drifts of snow in some sheltered places in eastern Quebec. Saw three covered bridges about ten at night. We stopped at Campbelltown in N.B.

May 24: They certainly serve good meals on the train. We passed through Moncton early this morning. The country alternates between forest and farmland. About 9:20, we stopped at Truro, N.S. A beautiful day. No crowds, bands or demonstrations of any kind to see us on the ship at Halifax. We boarded the Lady Drake about two o'clock. The cabin I share with two other privates is marked First Class and on B deck. It wasn't long before we had lifeboat drill with our life preservers tied on our backs and chests. The weather is very chilly, the water is a sullen, greenish-gray, and the sky is the same, the wind is raw. We were to sail at four, but did not move till 8:30, and then we started with the aid of two tugs. We had an excellent supper, with good service. I had a good sleep, but woke with a cold.

May 25: We are about one hundred and fifty miles out at sea. Much milder than yesterday. Quite a few of the boys are sea sick. We are supposed to have a convoy of three warships. I haven't seen one so far, the horizon is obscured by fog and low hanging clouds.

There is a continuing creaking sound from the straining timbers of the ship, and a sort of muffled vibrating hum from the engines. The Lady Drake is in the 5000 tonnage class, she is an oil burner, has no ballast except her oil. The cruiser, which is our convoy, is in the 6000 tonnage class. Both are considered small ships, and rolled badly in the gale tonight.

May 26: A fine, sunny day, growing warmer. We had church parade on the open deck. The officers were on the upper deck. Everything sold on the ship is quite expensive. The only water for washing is salt sea water, impossible to get a lather. I ate a good dinner, the best meal since I came aboard.

This afternoon, we were ordered to dress in our new India drill uniforms, with the brass buttons, and wear boots and puttees. We had an inspection and were warned not to cross our puttees any more. The negroes of the ship's crew are East Indian negroes, different from the ones in the U.S.A.

May 27: This morning we were passing islands, quite hilly, covered with trees and green vegetation and dotted with white-roofed houses that have creamy walls. There are 365 islands in the group known as the Bermudas. We docked and I caught my first look of the Imperials, a Shropshire regiment of Light Infantry Their officers were on the dock and came aboard to exchange civilities with our officers. Then their band marched down and climbed up into the windows of the warehouse opposite us. They all have marked English accents, seemed glad to see us. They had been here for eighteen months. Their band played some fine music. Then some stores were shifted from our hold over on to the dock, mostly .303 ammunition. Some fifty odd Shropshires came aboard before we moved away at 12:15. The ship is staying between two rows of buoys, which mark a safe channel, otherwise she would run on a coral reef. I saw a small seaplane come hurtling up over an island peak, and then take a long, downward glide toward the surface of the sea. We are passing islands all the time, the green hills and the white houses make a pleasant contrast.

The Shropshires are carrying live rounds of ammunition. I recall the humiliation of being searched for live rounds after firing one burst from the old Vickers at St. Charles Ranges. Not a single live round was found on any man. Some of the Shropshires have been in India and elsewhere. They wear heavier boots with toe caps and hob nails. Their India drill is faded and in some cases, tattered. On the average, they are smaller than we are, and many of them are Welsh. They say they may be stationed in the Dutch East Indies.

Life boat drill this afternoon. Had a good supper tonight (delicious steak). Had quite a discussion afterwards with Corporal Watson on the Social Order. He will never change my mind.

May 28: Morning dawned clear and sunny, ship is riding easily over the long swells. Time pieces had to be set back an hour this morning. The salt sea air tarnishes brass buttons and rusts the rifles very quickly.

Weather is rather muggy. Rifle inspection and life boat drill this afternoon. Our ship is sailing a zig zag course designed to outwit any sub. The cruiser convoy often signal with lights flashing the morse code at night and by day with different coloured and shaped flags and pennants. We have been ordered to keep all cabin doors ajar so that if the ship buckles, the doors will not jam and trap us in the cabins. The swinging glass ports are all painted on the outside. There is only one four-inch gun mounted on the stern. All day the crew have been rigging canvas awnings or shades over supports to give as much protection as possible from the sun to all those on deck.

What is a dead giveaway is the foaming phosphorescent wake of the ship out behind us for a good quarter mile every night after dark. This evening, we're actually supposed to be in the danger zone from subs. No smoking is allowed after dark, the captain is wearing a revolver in a holster on his belt. The crew swear he will shoot any man who dares to strike a light after sundown. It would be a sure cure for all the idiots who claim they have a right to smoke.

May 29: A fine sunny day. We were issued oil and two by four for our rifles. Inspection at 2:30. A complete blackout is in effect tonight. We are now in the waters which were the old stamping ground of the Graf Spee.

One of the crew was emphasizing for my benefit, how well the ship was constructed. Every crack and joint and seam had been packed with tar, the deck planking was securely held in place by wooden pegs, not a nail anywhere. This evening we passed within a few miles of Cuba; could see shore lights and a lighthouse winking. One of the crew said we were within 200 miles of Jamaica, might reach it at three tomorrow afternoon.

May 30: A fine, sunny, breezy morning. Had PT on deck. Saw some traffic, four big old coal-burning tramps, according to the crew. We were paid this morning, two ten shilling notes or $4.47 in our money. We had arms drill this afternoon. A good supper, baked beans and fruit salad, all the boys at our table chipped in and tipped the waiter. We are packing up tonight. Boat is pitching and tossing a little, sea is a bit rough.

May 31: When the bugle blew, and I woke with a start, and R. F. threw open the port hole we could see the wooded mountain tops of Jamaica, clothed in a bluish haze. We docked before breakfast and were busy all forenoon unloading the cargo.

The ship was surrounded by little black boys, eager to dive for coins, and row boats with baskets of bananas for sale: We left the ship With all our equipment at three, and piled all our "impedimenta" (as Caesar would have said), in a big warehouse, just kept our rifle, gas mask and musketry order i.e. webbing with the pouches, marched uptown and then took streetcars to the barracks. The latter are cement walls, metal roofs and rough wooden floors, no linoleum for the troops.

We have single cast iron cots, with a brass plate at the head which reads 1910, a mattress in three separate pieces, sheets and pillowcases of tattle-tale grey, and mosquito bar. I ate a ripe mango off a tree and after supper had a swim in the swimming pool. I just killed a bedbug on my pillow, so it seems we will have strange bedfellows. The netting over our beds is hung from the ceiling, its use is compulsory on account of the mosquitoes which carry malaria. We are warned that it is an offence to sleep outside the netting. The top of the netting next to the ceiling is a sanctuary for bedbugs. I spent a restless night, got up covered with red welts.,

June 1: Had PT and a swim before breakfast. Then scrubbed the floor of our hut and made our bunks. One half of the iron cot slides under the other half and the three separate pieces that form a mattress are stacked on top of that. Had muster parade on the square, quite warm. According to the morning paper, many of the B.E.F. forced to retire across the English Channel.

There are native fruit sellers coming around all the time. I sampled a paw paw, coconut, bananas, oranges and grapefruit. Inspection of bungalows at eleven. Everyone ordered to wrap white cotton pugaree around their pith (or cork) helmets. Only the old veterans who served in India know how to do it properly, they are charging a shilling apiece, are swamped with work. Then the white cotton has to be covered with blanco, which is a khaki dye in a round cake form which you must dissolve in water.

June 2: We are still confined to barracks. Two men were caught outside the garrison and are now in the guard house. No PT or any church parade but very strong, bitter lectures from the Colonel, the M.O. and the RSM No friction or fraternization with the natives. This is no place for white men. Old Alf Johnson said he would rather have seen us put in front line trenches in Europe than brought here., He said more men are ruined in the tropics than are killed in France. He is a WWI veteran.

Our laundry is supposed to be handled by coloured ladies. They are in their sixties and seventies, but can carry a heavy basket on their heads with an ease and grace that would astonish you. We had a lunch in the afternoon, an English institution.

June 3: Arms drill and squad drill. Our meals are poor here compared to Fort Osborne. No place to wash our dishes or cutlery except one cold water tap outside the cookhouse. No sink, no soap. We were told we would take a tour downtown to find out what is in bounds and what is out of bounds. Donnie McLeod has a bad case of sunburn from going without a shirt, blisters as big as quarters. The M.O. warned him he would be up on orders and crimed the next time it happened. "Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun". I haven't seen any of the Shropshires without a shirt.

I see one of our corporals with badly sunburned knees. It is mandatory for the rank and file to wear shorts and puttees. We had our tour of the town and created quite a stir, not all favourable. Old Alf said, "We are outnumbered one hundred to one by these blacks". Tonight we are draining the swimming pool and scrubbing out a thick matted growth of algae off the bottom. Pop W. said our letters wouldn't leave here till the ninth to safeguard the next contingent.

June 4: Squad drill and practise for sentry go.

June 5: I was room orderly today, plenty of fatigue, even window washing. In the afternoon, scrubbing equipment, shining and polishing.

June 6: Squad drill with rifles for two periods, then interior• economy, more cleaning and scrubbing.

June 7: Squad drill with rifles and musketry order after a breakfast of beans that nearly caused a riot. Bitter complaints to the orderly officer about the beans in bulk that were bought here and not Canadian rations at all.

Tonight as usual, a bunch tease and tantalizing Donnie, saying he took off his shirt to get sunburnt in order to be excused duty, and that he is just swinging the lead. He is protesting feebly, but not convincingly.

June 8: Squad drill, arms drill and a route march led by Major Clarke, a short rotund little figure. He halted undecided when he came to a deep, narrow ditch dug across the road and extending a hundred yards into the adjoining fields on either side. Because he was the only man who couldn't jump it, and he was leading the Company, we had to march around the end! The native R.E.'s who had dug the drain, looked on with ill concealed merriment.

At breakfast Donnie and V.K. came to blows and were put under open arrest. When the case came up, it was dismissed due to "extenuating circumstances".

It actually rained a little, I was beginning to wonder if it could. Fruit is cheap here, a pineapple, four pence ha'penny, bananas are two for a penny, so are oranges.

June 9: No PT, no church parade. This afternoon after our four o'clock cup of tea, Red Akins and I sallied forth in our "walking out" dress of K.D. tunic and long trousers, belt and Field Service cap, were picked up by transport and had a ride down to the wharf. We saw an ammunition ship guarded by our men with fixed bayonets and empty rifles! Someone will have to be killed before the rest of us are allowed to carry live rounds. Red and I stopped off at the Kit Kat, a sort of cabaret on the way back. The Carib Theatre across the street is drawing great crowds although it is Sunday. The show is "The Light That Failed". On the way back to Up Park Camp, we helped two comrades along who found the native beverage too potent.

June 10: So far we have been drilling in the forenoon and after dinner, we sweep out the huts and scrub the floors and scrub our webbing and polish our brass and shine our shoes. We have a cup of tea at four which we enjoy because all the drinking water is lukewarm. We have a slice of bread and Tommy Ticklers' marmalade. The wrapper of the tin is dated 1918, it is bitter as gall.

We wear shorts and puttees and sun helmets on parade. The helmets are basically cork with a cloth covering. They would be alright if they hadn't been painted with blanco for years until they became very heavy. If we are granted a pass to go downtown, we must wear tunics, and belts and long trousers and our old field service caps. We fairly swelter. The Shropshires dress for comfort, and the natives even more so.

Fruit is cheap and plentiful here, but laundry is dearer than in Winnipeg and we certainly need to change and wash a lot more often. We had to pack our three blankets in our kit bags when we left Winnipeg Many did not bring their winter underwear, although we were warned we would be charged for anything we were issued if we left it behind. But some of the boys brought theirs and are having a fine time dealing it off to the gullible natives.

We have seen the new Bren gun, there is one for each Company. The Bren is smaller, lighter, it's air cooled and can be used against enemy aircraft, all advantages over the Vickers. It only weighs twenty-two pounds (the Bren) so one man can carry it easily. We hear wild yarns about the camp in the mountains where the clouds drift across the parade square and hug the ground like a dense fog. A Sgt was drilling a squad when they were enveloped in a dense mass of vapour. He kept shouting commands anyway and when the cloud passed, he could find only one man. The rest had gone over a cliff!

We certainly miss butter at our meals. We do not care for margarine, it melts into a liquid on the tin plate in this heat. It is manufactured by the same company that makes soap and I think they got things mixed up.

Some Canadians from Halifax actually enlisted with the K.S.L.I. They are kicking themselves because they had to sign up for seven years active service and five on Reserve. They say everything is cheaper here than in Bermuda however and the natives are not so poverty stricken. A third of our battalion is always kept in the garrison on alert in case of trouble. A few picked men are getting permanent jobs. Hector Boubonnaire has been appointed to clean the washrooms and work on the garden, just because he had a little difficulty in squad drill, etc.

June 11: I was room orderly today, no PT or parades. The hut was inspected by Captain Bowman and CSM Logan. Only thing they found wrong was straps missing from someone's pack, and one pair of boots not in place under a bed.

Motorized lawn mowers are in use here for the coloured R.E.'s but right now there is no growth whatsoever. Still the R.E. run over the turf on the polo ground, even used a big, heavy roller on it. What amazes me in this hot climate with so many open drains, there are so few houseflies. As one would put it, "They are all in the soup".

Our bread is curiously heavy and greyish in colour, upon inquiry we were told that instead of pure flour, it is fifty per cent cornmeal. It is baked in a very large outdoor oven, rather primitive. There is one gate in the high fence around the camp officially known as the Baker's Gate.

June 12: Our sleep was rudely broken by three unknowns who wandered into our hut after midnight and created a disturbance. When the angry sergeant emerged from his cubicle to identify them, they fled precipitously. The same three went AWOL., were caught downtown and are now in the guard house. PT, swim, squad drill with rifles, then our first lecture on the Bren. It is certainly handy compared to the old Vickers, which needs a crew of three. Then oil and two by four issued and the same lecture we have heard a hundred times on the care and cleaning of rifles, we now have it memorized, especially this phrase, "Your rifle is your best friend, treat it as you would your wife, rub it all over with an oily rag."

Sammy Burdens finger is slowly healing, he almost severed his ring finger while chopping kindling for the big ranges in the kitchen. They only burn wood.

June 13: Well, our first mail came in, and I received nine letters. You never saw men so excited. They were like kids around a Xmas tree. The poor devils who didn't get any looked ready to cry. You never saw disappointment written so plainly than on their faces. From the tone of your letters, you think I may be in England. I wrote before we left Winnipeg that we were being issued K.D. uniforms for a hot climate.

George Coutts came to me with the Melita New Era, to point out my name in the Pipestone news and we rejoiced together over the fact that the South West was getting its share of rainfall. George declared with the utmost conviction that when we got the moisture, we were living in the finest part of the Prairie Provinces. He fairly glowed with enthusiasm, he is planning to farm after the war.

This morning we had our rifles serial numbers taken down; we all had them memorized; mine is 14832. We were paid, I got sixty shillings, most of the money has Queen Victoria's head on it. Special MP's have been deputized for tonight, because of pay day. They had a busy night.

June 14: Squad drill, arms drill, ad infinitum.

June 15: No PT, busy all morning, turning in sheets, blankets, pillows, biscuits (the three squares that make up our mattress), mosquito bars, you would think we were never coming back! Our kit bags and pack sacks were loaded on trucks and after dinner, we fell in on the parade square with rifle and haversack and musketry order, and climbed into trucks, eight men in the back of each, and we took the winding road for Newcastle. The road is built on the side of the mountain and is full of hairpin turns and twists of every kind, at times it skirts the brink of precipitous cliffs. The roads were dry and dusty, it took two and a half hours to climb the nineteen miles to the (Rest Camp?), which is over three thousand feet above sea level. The huts are built on a very steep slope and connected by rough stone steps.

Tonight we can look down and see the lights twinkling in the city of Kingston, and the search lights in the harbour playing over the vicinity. Really a glorious view from here, if it was only clear, but there is a blue haze over everything, and a continual procession of clouds or mist or vapour passing or nestling among the peaks or moving down the slopes. Major Clarke gave orders for a blackout, so all the windows facing the sea are draped and hung with blankets. I saw some of the permanent staff (Imperials) playing what they call handball. They use the palm of their hand to bat a tennis ball against a high stone wall and keep hitting it on the rebound.

They say the huts up here were built a hundred years ago, less two months. Termites are working in the wooden walls and beams and fine sawdust is always floating to lodge eventually on the floor, our beds, or us. Instead of the steel lockers we had down below, we have musty, smelly wooden chests.

June 16: Quite chilly and damp during the night. No mirrors in the washrooms for shaving. I was on kitchen fatigue, cutting up cabbage and peeling potatoes. Raining this afternoon, some wicked peals of thunder.

June 17: Room orderly today, the rest had rifle inspection and anti-aircraft instruction. Cloudy, mist steaming up the slopes and wreathing around the peaks, the atmosphere is certainly clammy. The water in the showers is quite cold. Recognized some familiar weeds, pepper grass and fire weed and ornamental beet.

June 18: PT, breakfast, inspection, patrolling and maneuvering, scouting and ambushing, it is very hard to take this seriously when we are not even carrying live rounds and cannot shoot the officers we do not like! After dinner we walked down into a deep gully to try and find a non-existent waterfall. Very foggy this afternoon, we can only see a short distance. All the English up here carry strong, stout walking sticks. Our boys are providing themselves with some weird and wonderful canes cut right out of the jungle. Lieutenant A. has a manufactured article with a shepherd's crook in his hand, a sharp steel point on the other end, and two-thirds of the way up a triangular leather folding seat which opens up as the crook handle snaps over at right angles.

From our camp up here, we can look right down on the harbour and see the big ships come in, and there is constant conjecture as to when the Lady Drake will come in and bring the rest of our outfit we dropped off at Bermuda. These so-called biscuits we have to sleep on are an invention of the devil. Wish we had the old straw paliases we had in Fort Osborne.

June 19: PT on the parade square before breakfast, then squad drill, arms drill and bayonet drill. Started to rain very heavily at noon and continued most of the afternoon. If we can believe the news, things are going very badly for France and Britain. Many of our men are pessimistic and gloomy. Last night when we were asleep, a certain character rode a donkey into our hut. It had long ears and a big head and a straight back like a cow. Then today, when it began to rain, it hit straight for our hut and came right in!

June 20: PT, Company inspection, Bren gun and sentry drill, respirator drill and lecture. The coloured washer woman, with her two assistants, were here with a large basket of laundry for us. It was all mixed up and we had a heck of a time getting it all sorted out. It rained off and on all afternoon, quite dismal. There are a great many fireflies around every night and the darkness is filled with an incessant trilling and croaking of the different forms of insect life.

June 21: PT inspection, then a Company route march led by Capt. Bowman and Lieutenant Walker. We had on musketry order with a ground sheet strapped on the back of our web belt, wore our Field Service caps and carried our rifles. We marched for four miles and then back again. The air is close and muggy and we did sweat a lot.

After dinner, the rain simply came down in torrents, with a wind behind it for a good half hour. Cleared up for a few minutes, then another heavy shower fell, followed by another sunny spell. A curious thing here, there is no dawn or sunset. In the morning, the sun fairly leaps into the sky, and in the evening, it suddenly drops out of sight and darkness falls all at once.

June 22: PT Company inspection by Major Clarke, arms drill and Bren gun, only one specimen here, they must be scarce. I got a letter from Jim today, it must have come on the Lady Drake as it was addressed to Fort Osborne. Clouded up but only a light shower fell.

Sergeant Tagby is giving us all lessons in the gentle art of lead swinging, complete with moans, groans and grimaces. K. R. Johnston and McArthur used their helmets to gather up a lot of fireflies and brought them into the hut; when lights out came, they were all on the ceiling, looked like falling stars when they dropped. There are dandelions and Dutch clover growing around here.

Rumours are that one of the big ships down in the harbour is a captured Italian passenger liner.

June 23: No PT, a very quiet day with no parades and no mail! Our huts are roofed with corrugated iron, some have tar bonded on the surface of the iron.

June 24: Gas drill, platoon drill, arms drill. I am on fire piquet with six or eight others under Corporal McArthur. We marched up to the Guard house where Sgt Tagby was in charge and Corporal McArthur who was GMP, took us on a long walk up and down, showing us where all the fire hydrants were, and all the fire appliance boxes. An ugly situation developed between Thomasson and Dolbridge, the latter finally placed in Guard house.

Kit inspection, everything ever issued to us was to be laid out on our beds, in certain meticulous order, even the butt trap on your rifle was opened to see if your brass oil bottle was there. Capt. Bowman walked into our hut, our presiding NCO roared

"Room shun", we all stood to attention beside our beds and Company quartermaster Sgt Puggott took note of all shortages. He was one of the best NCO's we had, a veteran of WWI In case of a shortage, the value would be deducted from the delinquent's pay, and the missing article would have to be replaced from the QM stores.

June 25: No PT for me as I am on fatigue in the Sergeants mess at six-thirty. I reported and had to split green wood for the old fashioned cast iron range which smoked atrociously. Then assisted with breakfast and washed the dishes after; same with dinner. At two, I reported for fire piquet and we had a little fire drill, running with a hose and connecting to a hydrant; running out more hose and attaching the nozzle, beat the Shropshires' time by a few seconds and they had been practising a lot longer. Then I had to go back to the Sgts. mess and finish up the duties of the day.

We have been told of a reserve or preserve somewhere in these mountains, where descendants of runaway slaves still live. Tonight, I saw three lights twinkling in a triangle off across on a distant mountain slope. I could actually hear the throb of drums.

June 26: PT Company inspection, Company drill. Lesson on .55 antitank rifle (I'd like to see one) test on the Bren. Rumours our mail is lost!

June 27: No PT as all are going on a route march, no rifles or webbing or puttees, but all must carry a stick. They climbed Mount Catherine, but all the Fire Piquet were ordered to remain on duty in camp. How anything could burn with all this rain is a mystery to me, so we missed our one chance to climb a mountain!

After dinner there was a grudge fight between one of the Shropshires and another of the Shropshires. No boxing gloves were available so they wore army issue wool gloves. Both were badly marked up. Both were played out after ten rounds. One hurt his right hand.

I wandered through the cemetery here, a lot of men and some women died of the yellow fever here in the eighteen hundreds. Some died in the revolt that once shook this island. Tonight all the boys are busy making souvenirs out of bamboo which grows so well here. Mc. not well, temp of 99. K. R. Johnston writing poetry using my ink.!

June 28: PT, lecture on rifle, loading, range finding, etc. Platoon drill, Bren tests, fire piquet reported at two. A few men play football on the square after supper, someone always gets hurt. Corporal Halbert went clown to get medical attention in Kingston because he stubbed his toe. He is under suspicion because he is always the first to fall out on any route march. I bought eight picture postcards and sent them to relatives and friends.

June 29: PT followed by a breakfast of sausage, beans, and bananas. After inspection marched down the road a ways and had a lecture on section loading. We are classed as a mobile unit now, no one is sure what that means.

Fell in on the square at ten-thirty for pay parade. I assigned half my pay to my brother Jim. Almost a riot at supper, someone insulted Corporal Blueman, four other people became involved because the original trouble maker resisted arrest, the latter was locked in the Guard house.

Tonight, McNeil was showing me some photos of his fiance at Arborg, Manitoba, some fine people and some lovely girls.

June 30: No PT, I was room orderly for the day. I aired my gas mask, battle dress and greatcoat as per order re: mildew, moths and mould. Found some of each, too damp up here, the low clouds drift right across the parade square, and this is supposed to be only three thousand feet above sea level. Scrubbed my rifle sling and then used blanco as per order.

At supper Tiny and Stinson up from Kingston, said Dave Parrot had his discharge, the top brass must have found out he was only sixteen. Popular pastime around here is loosening the pins in the legs of the cast iron beds so the instant you sit on it, the bed collapses. Dave disappeared last night, has not been seen since.

July, 1940: I am one of forty men detailed to stand guard at the internment camp. The Germans have a wonderful time inside, they play football all afternoon. If they need dental care, they are taken downtown to Kingston, to a good dentist. They receive mail and parcels from Germany, they are never cold here, if it's too hot, they can sit in the shade or stay in their huts.

We spend two hours on, and four off until we have put in twenty-four hours at a stretch. It's impossible to sleep when we all use the same bunkhouse, and lights are on all night, and men going in and out, so we just catnap during each four hours off. So we do a day and a night out at the internment camp and we are supposed to have twenty-four hours off back at our barracks in Up Park camp, but we never know when we will be called for fatigues.

After awhile, we should get a turn at ships guard which is more interesting, and not so tedious and boring. Though last night out at the IC, there were a number of false alarms turned in, and one sentry fired his rifle (he will be up on orders for that). All of which created a diversion, sending all the shifts of guards on the double around the barbed wire.

July 1: This was supposed to be a holiday, but orders from below said carry on as usual. So Sergeant Hopper took a bunch of us out on a hike where we could not be seen from the orderly room, and we did not return until noon. Sergeant Hopper is a good scout, a veteran of WWI.

I saw Jack Fraser carrying a mail sack up to the orderly room, it was sorted and distributed after dinner, and I got seven letters and three Reston Recorders. Afternoon was spent in sports. The GMP always get their man and Dooley was found a long way from camp, fast asleep. He is awake now in the Guard house.

July 2: PT and platoon drill. All ranks were ordered to fall in on the parade square at two, when a special squad of men were hand picked from the ranks. I was among the forty to be picked. We had another roll call at nine in front of the Company office where we were told we were chosen because we "appeared" to be reliable and energetic. We are already the butt of jokes from the rest of the camp, we are dubbed the "suicide squad" and told we will never see home again.

July 3: Everything was hurry and bustle this morning, we had shined our brass and our shoes the night before. We are ordered to take our haversacks with us (small ones), with a few necessities, battle order webbing, steel helmets and respirators. Each and every man growled about taking respirators, the mildest comment was "Why in hell do we need them?"; the strap is around the back of your neck, the mask in the carrying case is across your chest so you will sweat more than ever. All the rest of our kit had to be turned into QM stores. We fell in on the square at nine. After roll call, we had to "ground arms" and go back to our huts and pick up those stupid biscuits and carry them up the steep stone steps to the parade square and load them in army trucks and then we climbed into the back of the trucks and took the trail to Kingston. We travelled in a cloud of dust all the way, arrived at Up Park camp and each man was issued a bandolier containing fifty live rounds. We had a little drill in charging magazines, with five rounds in every clip, there is nothing complicated about that.

We ate dinner and afterwards, rode in the trucks to the docks where we boarded the Jamaica Producer, a banana boat of some five thousand tons, which is capable of eighteen knots, set sail for the open sea with a battleship attending us as a convoy. I oiled my rifle well, as the salt air rusts the steel so quickly. My rifle was stamped 1918 and all the blueing had been worn off in the intervening years. We had lunch at four after our life belt drill.

July 4: Cloudy, but soon cleared up, spent a very uncomfortable night sleeping on the deck with the salty spray blowing over us. Fitful slumber. In spite of oil, our rifles are rusty again. Our convoy, the Diomede, has disappeared. This ship is only seven years old. We saw several schools of flying fish, they gleam white like silver but are no bigger than swallows. We were told we were going to pick up German prisoners. We have all been posted to guard positions aboard the ship, which stopped for two hours while some repairs were being made, but it was not a pleasant feeling to be on a ship rolling idly in an empty sea.

July 5: This morning, we carried sandbags for a gun emplacement on the upper deck to command the hold. All hands and the cook set to work to empty the hold of the cargo of bananas in the hold; it was hard, heavy, sweaty, monotonous work, we threw thousands of dollars of bananas overboard to make room for prisoners. Is this the vaunted efficiency of the military administration? Eventually, will we be as expendable as the bananas? When we reached Bonaire, also spelt Bon Ayre on some maps, we were not allowed to dock; several launches full of officials came out to greet us. They wore a great variety of regalia for the occasion, but all wore swords. We wondered if these weapons had been borrowed or rented for the occasion. The prisoners were brought out in launches, all looked healthy and spoke good English, although we were ordered not to converse with any of them.

July 6: Today we stood a double guard, four hours, while prisoners were aired on deck. I think these prisoners are businessmen or members of trade commissions, none are in uniforms.

July. 7: In the afternoon we passed one of our convoy, the Dundee, and at a full nineteen knots, we swept on toward Jamaica. It was dark when we eased into harbour and No. 1, No. 2 and No. 3 guards were all called for duty. In batches of six, the prisoners moved through cordons of guards, a lot of our men from Up Park camp were there to reinforce the harbour police, the prisoners were loaded onto buses. The Colonel and the adjutant were there to see them off the ship. Two guards got into the front of each bus and two at the rear. When all buses were loaded they left together with motorcycles alongside and sirens going full blast. For the first ten blocks, the road was lined with the native coloured population, who were howling and screaming like fiends, and I couldn't help but feel we had more in common with the prisoners than with the mob outside. We drove to the internment camp and the prisoners were herded into the brand new huts. (I'm sure there were no bedbugs in them). We stood guard for awhile until we were relieved, then we had lunch and marched back to Up Park camp, we were shown an empty hut, drew biscuits, had a shower and went to bed.

July 8: No reveille, no PT for us this morning. We had breakfast but the food down here cannot compare with what Johnny Hoosha gives us at Newcastle. Then we had to put our fifty live rounds back in our bandoliers and turn them into QM stores, turn in our biscuits, and pack up so as to leave at nine-thirty. When we fell in on the square beside the trucks, Major Sutcliffe addressed us and said he was pleased and proud at the way we had carried out our duty, and that he wouldn't be afraid to take us anywhere. Then we piled into the trucks and tore up the steep, crooked road to Newcastle.

It was seven hundred and fifty miles to Bonaire, which is sixty-four miles off the coast of South America, so it was a round trip of fifteen hundred miles. Up in our mountain camp, Major Clark complimented us on our good work, said we would get a holiday tomorrow. We spent the afternoon scrubbing our webbing which was filthy, as were our clothes which we sent out to the laundry. One of our party said the worst part of the trip was having to sleep on deck fully dressed, even had to keep our boots on.

July 9: No PT, cleaning and shining brass today. I sent some cards home. Some sports equipment came up. Some boys playing softball on the square this afternoon. Steele hurt his finger, possibly broken. Varcoe hurt his foot and ankle badly swollen.

July 10: No PT, supposed to go for a hike; when we fell in on the parade square, Lieutenant Anderson called me out of the ranks and told me to report to Sgt Tugby. There I was told to join the GMP and to report for duty at four o'clock. When it is hot up here, it is hot. After a steady hour of squad drill, Sellars and Pontius fainted dead away. Joe Falcon took some snap shots of Calvin, Lavery and Millar, they are supposed to be in native costume. I have yet to see any natives dressed as they were today. At four, I escorted four prisoners to lunch and the showers, and one to the doctor. Then George Montroy and I took them to supper.

George Coutts and I did the rounds of the huts to see all the windows were blacked out. The other MP's are McAuley, Bellecourt and Cowie Mail came in today, I got a letter from Mother and one from Jean. At eleven, George Coutts and I went to the kitchen for lunch, and went off duty at midnight. When I got back to my hut, I sat down on my bed and it collapsed in pieces. Someone had loosened all the pins that hold the legs.

July 11: It is raining heavily this morning, the first time I have seen a real heavy rain in the forenoon, since we came up here. Went on duty at four, took prisoners to lunch, watched them while they hoed weeds around the edge of the parade square. A couple of cute English girls in their teens and guarded by a faithful nanny stopped to watch. I said to the latter, "Let's trade jobs, I'll look after your charges and you can guard these prisoners." She gave me that "How dare you, sir," look, that we get from the English down here, and swept haughtily off, calling over her shoulder, "Come away children."

George Coutts and I on patrol tonight, we spent our time wandering about, and talking farming. He got a parcel from home and divided his cake and candy with us. We took a stroll around the officers' quarters high on the hill, sat on a wall and talked of all we would do when we got home. George had worked for a Mr. Greaves at Elva, four years. Mr. Greaves had some very pretty daughters, still has in fact.

July 12: Cleaning and polishing, duty as usual.

July 13: Mail came in, and pay. Both very welcome. Extra MP's deputized to take care of the inevitable effects of pay day. The worst fight was between Sammy Burden and Bud Harvey and they are the best of friends when sober.

July 14: Patrolling down to married quarters, spoke to Mrs. Edwards who craves a good listener to pour out all her troubles. When she invited us in, we reluctantly declined, saying we were on duty.

A brawl broke out in one hut, why anyone would strike Cpl McArthur is a mystery. He would not give offense to anyone. Someone is in custody.

July 15: Rum is a curse on this Island. It is too cheap and too readily available. There are only a few trouble makers, but they do make trouble continuously. Three taken to Guard house tonight.

July 16: Company set out on a route march.

Bowman and Tugby preparing charges against all involved in breach of discipline. Heavy rain caught the men on route march, they returned soaked to the skin. They should have had their ground sheets, but they are not supposed to carry any unless ordered to by an Officer or NCO Tonight Donnie McLeod, the only man born with two left feet, had to be forcibly ejected from the canteen.

July 17: Cleaning and polishing.

July 18: The Colonel came up here, inspected huts. A certain Corporal is back after being AWOL.

July 19: Sid Varcoe was tried, sentenced to twenty-eight days detention down below, with loss of pay. He was handcuffed to Bellecourt for the trip down to Up Park camp.

A letter from Jean with notification of a parcel. She should be married to some solid businessman, with a steady job and a secure future. She shouldn't be writing to anyone in the Army who may have no future. I told her in my last letter, but she says good men are hard to find, and they are going to be scarce before this war is over.

July 20: Interior economy and infernal inspection of huts. At noon I was warned to pack up and be ready to move. I was one of ten men chosen to do special guard duty on two Germans who are being brought up here. We moved our effects high up on the hill, near the officers' quarters.

July 21: Password tonight, Adsum. Cliff Carpenter and I escorted the two Germans from the orderly room up to the officers mess for breakfast with Colonel, Major Clark, Major Hook, Captain Bowman, etc. Then down to their quarters, stood guard till eleven.

Last night I got a big box of good things from Jean, and I sure got a kick out of being able to share them with the other boys.

Last night there was a program in the canteen and Colonel Kay was present. Corporal J. said it was the first time in seven years he had seen the Colonel at a smoker. Guy White was M.C. He is conceited, overbearing, lewd and lascivious for an NCO, who had been AWOL., he had too much to say. Corporal Henderson sold me some good snapshots, he is a very fine person, and it is a pleasure to drill under him.

July 22: Password tonight, Minto. Stood guard, one to three last night. Went on at nine this morning with Cliff Carpenter and Corporal Trembath, the latter served in India with Imperial troops. As an escort, we took our two guests(?), one of whom has been nicknamed Von Blomberg, on a walk for exercise to Woodcutters Gap. I got four letters today. I went to the cookhouse and carried up the pudding for dinner. F. is cooking for us up here. A gang of men are bushing(?) with machetes to clear away the jungle from around the hut we were guarding. Major Clark is making plans for a barb wire fence around it. We go on guard with fixed bayonets and five live rounds in the magazine. This afternoon, Cliff Carpenter and Corporal Henderson and I were an escort for our two aliens on a walk out to Greenwich, from five to seven.

July 23: Password tonight, Camerons. Tonight I bought some snapshots from Joe Falcon I also got some from George Coutts, really good ones.

July 24: Le Blanc and W. fell over a cliff and got badly cut up. Our two Germans climbed St. Catherines and enjoyed it, under escort. I got six letters. The R.E.'s are putting up a-lighting system around the hut where our two guests reside. Further down the slope from Newcastle, prisoners from the guard room are getting pack drill, never more than three paces in any direction, right turn, left turn, about turn, over and over again.

July 25: I was ordered to be ready to leave for Up Park camp in the morning.

July 26: I packed and carried my things down to the parade square where a few were gathered to form the advance guard. We left about a quarter to three. I sat in the cab with Jack Fraser, the driver. Arrived and had trouble getting bedding and a place to sleep as we were not expected. I was told I was an acting Lance Corporal without pay, I was angry and told them what they could do with it. Logan almost begged me to try it for a week.

July 27: Went downtown with three others and saw two shows.

July 28: Went on duty with Bruce from nine to twelve.

July 29: Reported at six-thirty, again at eight, then a quarter to two till four. Working under three Imperial Staff Sgts. Hutchins, Maddox and Giffiths. They graduated from the Glass house at Aldershott. They are fiends in human form, with neither heart, nor soul, nor conscience. The detention barracks has a "black hole" with no ventilation, anyone breaking rules is thrown in there and kept there till they lose consciousness. When on the verge of death, they are yanked out, revived, and thrown in again.

All the pack drill is done on the double when it is one hundred and ten degrees in the shade. I thought of horses, with white, foamy lather working out around their harness and saw the same thing around the webbing belts of the prisoners and under the musketry order that holds the two pouches.

The last thing at night they were given what was called a "task"; the greasiest, sootiest, cast iron pot out of the kitchen was given to each one and they had to have it shining by morning, with a rag and half a pail of cold water. Though they worked all night, they could not accomplish this. In the morning they would get the most fearful tongue lashing from the Staff Sgt Life in the detention barracks is an absolute hell.

The rest of C Company has come down from Newcastle. Coutts, Cowie, McAuley and Montroy each have their first stripe. I am glad for them, personally if I have to torture human beings in detention barracks, I don't think it's worth it.

July 30: On duty all day long and through the night.

July 31: Off duty at twelve-thirty.

August, 1940: I am back on Garrison Military Police again and there is certainly a lot more work to it here than in the Hills. Here, there are gates to open, to guard, to lock at night, all the lights around the garrison fence must be checked nightly, any defective bulbs must be replaced. Suspicious characters must be checked out, and large areas patrolled, such as the polo field and the married quarters. It's tiresome work on your feet all day, and plenty of trouble on pay nights and about three days after.

August 1: I am definitely through with the job at detention barracks and glad of it, even if it means losing my stripe. Logan is furious. He said I would never have another chance at promotion, he said when I asked to be returned to duty it was a reflection on his judgement to pick the best men for the best jobs. I said, "You mean the worst jobs." He started shouting and told me to get out!

Coutts and Bamendine have my job now. Murray from Tisdale, who shot down a Nazi flag at Internment camp, is getting seventeen days detention. Heaven help him!

Tonight Sgt Piggott is telling us about his army life in India, and the strange cases of insanity he encountered in his regiment and others. He kept repeating, "The army is not a natural, normal, way of life." Don't we realize that already!

August 2: I got a letter from Doug and Iris Fletcher. They are fine people. George Coutts threw up the detention job I had, but Bruce and Bamendine have been ordered to stay.

August 3: With forty others, I was on guard at the internment camp two hours, and four hours off; a tedious and monotonous business. With false alarms breaking your rest period and a sentry's shot arousing the whole camp.

August 4: Got back to barracks about ten this morning; one letter from home where they had a small tornado which blew down the north garage, and blew over the caboose, etc. And a letter from Kenneth which had some good poems in it. I am worried about the garage; I had some choice copies of the Saturday Evening Post up in the loft of that old garage, I don't suppose I'll ever see them again.

August 5: Standing guard at the internment camp again.

August 6: Our day off, we are scrubbing, polishing, blancoing. A letter from John.

August 7: Internment camp guard again, all day, all night.

August 8: Back to our huts about ten this forenoon. Supposed to get paid our duty allowance of eight shillings, but when the pay master suggested taking off two shillings for barber, pool room, swimming, etc., we objected, so after muster parade we didn't get any pay at all! We have a strong suspicion we are being swindled because the NAAF is charging us twice what we pay downtown.

August 9: IC guard again.

August 10: I see by the bulletin board I am on ship's guard tomorrow. Anything will be a welcome change from IC guard. Sid Varcoe came out of detention today, certainly thin and haggard.

August 11: Church parade, very small attendance, very short sermon

August 12: No ships call, much to my disappointment. We had pay parade, finally got our eight shillings duty allowance. Last night we heard a shot out at the IC It was Delbridge firing over Todd's head who hadn't halted when being challenged. I was on kitchen fatigue this afternoon.

August 13: IC guard again. Got a letter from home, one from Jean.

August 14: An advance guard is preparing to lead off. I may be one. A picnic has been planned for tomorrow. Those going were paid today. I got two pounds.

August 15: About forty Of us, the band included, went on a sort of tour, to Port Antonio, sixty-eight miles away. We were not allowed to speak to any tourists and there were some bathing beauties who waved at us, but our officers rushed in between! If you are a private you are not supposed to have any normal feelings or emotions.

August 16: Part of a fatigue party cleaning out hut No. eleven, for a bar tonight. The dance was fine for the Officers and Sgts. who had all the girls.

August 17: On fatigue, cleaning up after the dance. I went downtown tonight with Sgt Berard, Cpl A. Rutherford, and Cpl McAuley, all very fine fellows. We saw an old western, all blood and thunder. While we were out, there was a riot in the "NAAFI", some of our men were short changed, and there was a free for all.

August 18: I am on kitchen fatigue. I got a letter from Jean today.

August 19: I wanted my teeth looked at so I went on sick parade to the hospital to get permission from the doctor to go and see the dentist downtown. I had one cavity filled.

August 20: Three well-known characters, Young, Shultz and La Blanc, cleaned out the BB bar last night and ended up in the Guard house this morning. I took my shoes to Currie the shoemaker. Currie and his ship's guard party really had some trouble with a recalcitrant crew and rum running natives. I acted as an escort to the three bad men of the Company when they went before Coutts and then before the Colonel. They each got seventy-two hours detention.

I got seven letters; one from Isobel Rice, one of my teachers at Paramount School.

August 21: I was on IC guard, very boring.

August 22: Got a parcel from Nella today, a fruit cake which was wonderfully good.

August 23: I was on IC guard again. In order to stay awake about three o'clock in the morning, I was reciting some of Kipling's poetry aloud:

By the brand upon my shoulder,

By the gall of clinging steel,

By the welts the whips have left me,

By the scars that never heal ...

Spanky McFarlane heard me, he would stop at nothing to create a diversion, to break the cursed monotony. He shouted to his next and nearest sentry, "Trouble at sentry post No. 13, pass it on." I heard this repeated over and over till the message reached the guardroom, I heard the door slamming open and shut as the officer of the guard rushed out followed by a sergeant and corporal. They approached at the double, at thirty feet I roared, "Halt, who goes there?" The officer set his heels and skidded to a stop. The sergeant crashed into him. The officer croaked hoarsely, "Officer of the guard." I worked the bolt of my rifle and a live round slid into the chamber, the breech locked with an unmistakable click. "Advance and be recognized," in a voice I did not recognize myself. The officer slowly shuffled forward and gave his name in a faltering voice because I had the old Lee-Enfield pointed at his stomach and he knew he wasn't popular with the men. "Anything to report?" he whispered. "No sir," [retorted in a perfectly natural manner, letting the rifle slide through my hand till the butt hit the ground and my right hand gripped the rifle close to the muzzle while I stood at ease. He leaned forward and inquired anxiously, "Are you alright, Forsyth?" "Yes sir," I snapped. He gave the about turn and marched back whence he had come, and I heard a long, low chuckle from Spanky McFarlane. He was a devil.

August 24: Came off guard and a runner told me to report to the RSM, old Paddy Kennan. He was very curious about what had happened out at the IC Since he was a vet of WWI, I told him exactly what had happened. He chided me like an old grandfather, "You know you shouldn't point a loaded rifle at an officer," he said, "especially when the officer has two witnesses and they are a sergeant and a corporal." I agreed. "Well," he said briskly, "I'll put you where you won't be carrying a rifle, I'll put you on the GMP force, you will carry a short club, like a London Bobby, but you will still have your bayonet on your belt." "Thank you, sir," I said.

August 25: Went around with some of the GMP to learn where all the territory was, that had to be patrolled, from the south side through the married quarters, to the polo field; light switches and gates, when it was my turn to wake the bugler (Kenny Simpson), etc. Got four letters today.

August 26: Short of men, so many are ill with "denghi" fever, I was put on quarter guard, but relieved later by Alec Skilinski, a good man I always liked. So I borrowed the push cart from the kitchen, put all my effects in it and moved them down to Head Quarters hut where all the MP slept. Tonight at six, I went on duty at the main gate with old Dave Johnston, who used to work for the Lothians and Sandy Fairlies. We were on all night, off at six.

August 27: I slept till noon. Spent afternoon cleaning, polishing equipment. A certain corporal was charged with being out of bounds to wit, in the married quarters. The NCO's are supposed to set an example for the rank and file. This is the same corporal who tried to borrow money from me. He was eventually nicknamed "two bun".

A Family Herald arrived today from home.

August 28: Dusty Dame and I went on the main gate at six this morning, took it hour about, till six this afternoon. Our meals were brought to us. Tonight, we can hear a violin playing in the sergeants" mess. Someone was charged with smuggling something forbidden into the detention barracks. When !worked there, no prisoner was allowed any fruit or vegetables. The case came up before the Colonel. He really made a fool out of Staff Sgt Hutchins. Of course Colonel Cay is a lawyer, but Hutchins is a mean, vindictive man to cross.

August 29: I was on the Cotton Tree gate, a native MP from the Jamaica local forces checked the natives. Since there is a battalion of local coloured troops here, I can't imagine why we are here at all. We should be in England with the P.P.C.L.I.

B Company sent up to Newcastle. D Company came down.

August 30: I was on morning patrol in married quarters, then on dental inspection parade, and barely made it back in time to get in place in the line for pay parade.

After two, I went downtown, got a parcel from home and saw Balalaika at the Carib, enjoyed it immensely. MP's are increasing in number.

August 31: On camp patrol inside main enclosure iron fence. A Company from Bermuda arrived at one o'clock, general rejoicing at the reunion. I came off duty at seven, very tired.

September 1: Went on duty on main gate at six this morning, then acted as escort for two prisoners who sustained a number of injuries and had to go to hospital to be attended to. Didn't get back to the Guard house till noon. A Cameron, who overstayed his shore leave and slept the night on the park bench, turned up in our camp. His pockets had been slit while he slept, and his wallet, letters, etc. were gone. He was lucky his throat was not slit, there are a lot of thugs roaming around at night.

The Cameron's ship which sailed without him, would have landed him on Aruba. Though he was born in Glesca and had a strong Scottish accent, his name was Cassidy. He was part of the B.E.F. who fought at Abbeville. He was with the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders there, and only two hundred came back out of a battalion of one thousand men. He said we have no guns yet that will stop the German tanks. Our anti-tank rifles proved useless.

September 2: I do not go on duty till tonight, so did a lot of scrubbing and polishing of equipment.

September 3: Up all last night, so slept most of today.

September 4: Morning patrol, south side, six to two, then started to watch a cricket match, but it was too slow, couldn't get interested in it at all. I have a bad headache, all my bones are aching.

September 5: Trouble downtown last night. Two of our men were tried and sentenced to detention. I got six letters tonight.

September 6: Last night I was on patrol of MQ Rained most of the night. Ground sheet makes a poor raincoat. My headache is worse, so I went to the First Aid Hut, my temperature was one hundred and two degrees, they said "Denghi" fever, go back to bed, take these pills every hour.

September 7: A terrible argument going on between Leitch and Sgt Hopper. The latter is checking up on the movements of the downtown patrol last night, wondering why he couldn't find them, but they claim they were just one bar, one dive ahead of him all the time. He is not convinced.

September 8: The coloured troops, Jamaica Infantry Volunteers, and our men were roused out of bed at five by the bugle sounding stand to. Agitation among the working people, they may strike for an eight hour day. A strike means a riot here, so all ranks are CB to be in readiness for action.

September 9: Some agitators have been arrested and interned. Some shots fired over at the IC A show was put on tonight in the mess hall, "King of the Underworld".

September 10: I was on duty at the Cotton Tree gate, two to six.

September 11: On duty at the main gate, six to six. There was a baseball game between the pick of the Grenadiers and a team from Cuba, we won twelve to three. Tonight there was a free show put on outside. The screen was a white sheet hung on the wall of the swimming pool. The show was the "Valley of the Giants', from the book of the same name by Peter B. Kyne. I read the story years ago when it ran as a serial in the McLeans magazine.

September 12: I wrote a lot of letters. Went on duty tonight at ten. Patrolling MQ, caught a CSM out of bounds. I lectured him severely, he showed no sign of remorse or repentance. I said all these women in the married quarters are married, what do you want with a married woman? He brazenly insisted that they were lonely since their husbands were all away at Curacao, guarding the Dutch oil refineries; he said he was doing a charitable thing, he tried to quote some scripture about the orphans and the widows but somehow it didn't seem to fit the circumstances.

September 13: Came off duty at six this morning. We were paid today. I got forty shillings. It is hard to keep track of our pay when we have never been issued pay books. The Shropshires wouldn't believe us when we said we had none. They all had theirs. The guard coming off duty at the IC are CB because of false alarms, one live round missing and unaccounted for, and dirty sentry boxes. The camp show was "The Man They Couldn't Hang".

September 14: I was booked for patrol, but Land did not show up, so I took his place on main gate with Dusty Dame, an amiable, pleasant fellow, with a reputation for sobriety. There were five prisoners in the Guard house from last night. Dooley and I took hour about alternately. During my time off I read a book by Bruce Bairnsfattier, called "Bullets and Billets". All about 1914 and 1915 and the mud in Flanders. Hook around and think, what a contrast! It's hard for us to believe there is a wax on. A cricket match today.

The local paper says that Buckingham Palace is bombed, can we believe the local paper? Listen to this, "German troops trying to invade Britain, hundreds of their bodies seen floating in the Channel."

The Provost Marshall just had a phone call, trouble at the Kit Kat bar, come at once. Dooley escaped, had to be dragged back.

September 15: Cells in guard room pretty well filled. Cpl Russel of the R.E.'s was in talking about his army life.

I went on duty at two on the south patrol, saw the pick of our battalion beat the Cuban Elegantes, sixteen to ten. Saw one Elaine Haase, a champion swimmer, wonderful figure; Dick Wilson has her picture. On patrol, talked to several J.I.V.'s as I came off duty at ten. Elaine Haase was going out with the Paddy Wagon to pick up someone.

September 16: Hardisty and I went downtown after dinner to the bank and sent home money. I sent $31.36, Bill sent more. I was on night patrol ten till six, found it hard to keep awake until six big mules came on the cricket pitch. Dooley had brought them around from the Cotton Tree gate, they had been in the married quarters, eating the flower gardens of the grass widows. They belong to the coloured R.E.'s and we believe with good reason the mules are let loose to bedevil us. Lapointe (whose grandfather was a close friend of Louis Riel) left the main gate and tried to help us, but we couldn't get the brutes into the pound, and they tore away across the polo field.

September 17: My sleep was rudely broken by summons to go on dental parade inspection. Tried to sleep after dinner and had to go on clothing inspection parade. We turned in our old deck shoes and got new ones. Also drew one shirt, one pair of shorts and underwear from the quartermaster stores. Dooley was tried for breaking out while under close arrest and got fourteen days detention.

September 18: I was on morning patrol, six to two in MQ When I passed the school I saw through open windows and doors, the children tramping around and heard a piano. I don't know if it was a drill, or if they were playing musical chairs, but the melody was "The girl I left behind me". I couldn't help thinking of some of the girls I left behind, any of them would look good to me now, and one or two .....

Farther up the row of cottages, a girl was singing, "I'll take you home again, Kathleen." I used to sing that myself, Anne used to play for me on the old organ. I passed a honeysuckle hedge and a flower bed and the perfume took me back over years of time and space, and for just one fleeting moment, I felt I was back at McLaren's, when Grandma used to grow such wonderful flowers.

Some native laborers were moving a fence, they didn't know why, they didn't even care. They did say it had been in place for twenty-seven years and was still in perfect condition. Each concrete post was set in a large foundation of concrete, and had to be broken out with a jackhammer worked by compressed air from a small engine on wheels.

Tonight, O'Connor burst into our hut swearing vengeance on someone "who had done him wrong". He used to be a blacksmith near (Minto?).

September 19: My day off. I got six letters, answered them all. I go on night patrol of the married quarters.

September 20: Today, I got a parcel slip, walked down to the Cross Roads Post Office and paid two shillings and tuppence for it for mailing charges. A parcel from Jean and very welcome.

An old lady walked into the garrison distributing religious tracts. No doubt they are needed here, but the men only take them to be polite.

September 21: Big John Skibinski and I are on duty at the main gate six to six. Caught a native wearing army boots, and another with deck shoes. There is a black market around somewhere. An old gentleman named Burke came in with a present of a bottle Of milk for some ailing person. He claims a great many refugees from Gilbralter are being sent here. He has a son there in the A.A.C.

Young Todd refused to go on parade and was charged and given CB, refused to answer the defaulters bugle call to fall in, in front of the guard house, so is now locked up inside. Lyons, who used to work in the kitchen, is in the military hospital with a ruptured appendix. They have sent a wire to his mother and one to Ottawa, and he asked for the padre.

September 22: Tonight there was a show put on in the dining hall, "Heart of the North". The British news was shown first, very interesting. The feature was in technicolour, a story of the Mounties in B.C. Tonight I patrolled MQ, saw six mules cropping a ladies lawn, chased them back into the pasture and wired the gate shut.

September 23: Todd got five days detention. Tonight Cpl Archie Rutherford and I went to "Captain Blood". It was quite exciting. Archie is a very fine fellow. Coming back, we met McFarlane who told us Lyons had died at 8:15. It is a crime that anyone should die of appendicitis in this day and age, with doctors and hospitals so close.

September 24: I am on afternoon patrol two to ten. W. J. Lyon's funeral was at four from the church. The coffin was on a gun carriage towed by an army truck. I saw the parade move past the nor-east corner of the enclosure from where I stood on a road keeping back traffic. The J.I.V.'s were represented by a small squad which brought up the rear. Sgt Hopper and I strolled up the hospital road and looked across to where the cemetery was located east and north of the IC The coloured workers who were constructing new huts never stopped for an instant their sawing and hammering. The band played the Dead March from Saul, then we heard the three volleys of the firing party (a bar of music between each blast of gunfire) and the echoes rolled back from the hills. Then ....

We could hear the quick step play,

The regiments in column,

and their marching it away ...

Lyons had a wife and three children. He was only 27 years old.

September 25: Strong wind and heavy rain just before noon. I am on night patrol of MQ, ten till six.

September 26: Company Sgt M. of B Company, Fryatt slept in my bed last night because it was empty. He had just come down from the Hills with his friend, Mrs. Bailey they had gone to school together in England, and I s'pose that covers a multitude of something or other: they are going back again this morning. I took my cast iron bed out on the veranda, lit a bonfire of old newspapers and fried all bugs out of every crack and crevice of the bed. If only! could do the same with the biscuits which are infested in the seams.

Today, ten men from each Company A, B, C, D, and HQ, are guarding all roads to and from camp. This is an old English Military custom, that in order for roads to be known as Private, instead of public, all traffic must be stopped one day a year. Sgt Hopper went up to the Hills today, may stay for a month's rest.

September 27: I was on duty from six to six at the main gate. Pay day today, I got two pounds.

September 28: Heavy rain from the south for most of the forenoon. After dinner, I went to Cross Roads Post Office, and got a parcel from John and Kay with a great many useful and appreciated articles in it. Cpl Russel of the R.E's claimed the Canadian stamps and cut them off with his penknife. I am on night patrol of the MQ, ten to six, air is cool after the rain.

September 29: It was a long night. I slept till noon. Tonight an outdoor movie, "The Dawn Patrol", starring Eroll Flynn and Basil Rathbone. Rather ghastly in parts.

September 30: Afternoon patrol, two to ten. There are some charming children about, only the odd one is a little fiend. I ordered some snaps from Steele today. His girlfriend has a $70.00 camera. A year ago today, I joined the army, never dreaming I would be sent here, this can't be the end.

October 1: Inspection of huts by O.C. Fire call three times and then all clear. Supposed to be a blaze at Major Long's. Bill Jeffries got fifteen days detention for Drunk and Disorderly and for striking an NCO This was his first offence. I wonder what kind of poem he will write when he comes out. His rations for one day will consist of 6 oz. of bread, 2 oz. of cheese, 1 oz. of margarine, 1/4 oz. of dry tea, 3/4 oz. of sugar, and one small can of condensed milk must last a man for eight days.

Tonight I am at the main gate from six to six with D.D. A coloured native, one of the J.I.V.'s, was doing time in the detention barracks and escaped wearing only shorts and running shoes. Sgt Speed Darragh was in charge at the time. He said the native went over the twelve foot wall like a monkey. There is plenty of barbed wire along the top and broken glass was imbedded in the concrete. Hutchins was in a rage. He told Sgt Speed Darragh any man going over the wall was to be shot during the act. I asked the J.I.V. RSM where the escapee could find refuge. He said "Up on the Blue Mountain with the Maroons," the descendents of escaped slaves. It is a sanctuary, no white man can go there without a written permission of the Governor of the Island. A signaller has been AWOL for twenty-four hours, last seen on Harbour Street, one of the toughest in Kingston.

October 2: Some 10 or 15 of our oldest men may be sent home, old Bud Harvey is nearly blind.

October 3: Went on at six at the east gate till two. Old Pop Wharff was telling about WWI Got a letter from Florence and Lillian; rain is holding up the harvest in Saskatchewan.

Today is the Jewish New Year. Abie Ostaishower asked me to wish him a Happy New Year, this is one ritual which must be observed. Early this morning, we hear the J.I.V.'s band playing "How Firm a Foundation". Their QMS. had died, he had a wife and three children. He was an old soldier, had served in the West Indian Regt. They practised and rehearsed and then held the usual military funeral. The casket draped with the flag and the dead man's hat and rifle on top, was lashed to a gun carriage and towed behind an army truck. There was a regular parade of the band and the troops and a huge crowd of spectators. Then just yesterday there was another funeral at the garrison church for the six-week old child of one of the R.A.M.C. Strange how these things happen in threes.

This morning at breakfast, there were scenes of wild disorder in the mess hall when the men objected to the black beans which had gravel, twigs, and insects in them, the bacon was raw and there was no butter or jam. There was a rising crescendo of cries until they rose to a general roar.

October 4: Friday. This morning before breakfast, the J.I.V.'s have their firing party and drums and fifes out rehearsing. Pop Wharff is telling me what wonderful country there is around Fisher Branch, trying to interest me in a 1/2 section of H.B.C. land up there. I wonder if it is anything like the land near St. Martins where Victor Hart was sent after WWI, by the S.S. Board. I was on duty as traffic policeman for the funeral, to keep the crowds back off the road.

Today ___ and ___ were sentenced to 28 days detention for a scrap with a native constabulary. A Cpl was in the scrap, too, he is in hospital at present. I am on night patrol of MQ tonight. Sgt Joe Hopper paid us a surprise visit today. Doesn't care for the Hills, Newcastle, there isn't enough doing. He and a certain CSM do not get along together, of course the Irish and English never did! Some high American dignitaries paid a visit to command headquarters today, concerning the new naval and air bases to be established here. Several American sailors had supper in our mess hall and they say downtown is full of Marines tonight. They were paid today, so there should be a lively time.

October 5: I got so sleepy on night patrol, I was practically walking in my sleep before morning. I slept till noon, then Coutts, Eric Anderson and I went downtown with the intention of going to Port Royal, but we missed the boat, so we went to the Museum, but it was locked, so we wandered around the Hindu and Chinese bazaars.

October 6: I was on the main gate six to six. Tonight a show in camp, "Siege of Warsaw" and "Isle of Destiny".

October 7: I am on afternoon patrol, two to ten. Cpl Halbert has lost one of his stripes. At supper, Cpl Woodhead gave a short speech of a very violent nature to all the assembled Company. Said that all the men who were useless on parade were put to work in the kitchen, so what could the rank and file expect if meals were not what they should be. The majority of men know the real villain is the captain quartermaster.

October 8: Eric Anderson bought a history and geography of this island for me, very obliging. The four snaps Coutts took of me turned out very well. Tonight I went on south side patrol, it rained pretty steady.

October 9: I slept all forenoon. Then wrote letters. The J.I.V.'s are moving into huts, their tents are leaking. There was an identification parade today, picking out fellows who had smashed up the International Bar. Three were picked out, it looks like detention for them. Now I believe old All Johnston when he said he would rather see this outfit in the front line trenches than on a tropical island. Show in the mess hall tonight, "My Son, My Son", a tragic story.

It rained during the night and then poured this morning.

Bananas are grown for home use as well as export. There are large plantations of sugar cane used to produce sugar, molasses and rum. Then in diminishing importance, coconuts, coffee, cocoa and citrus fruits. The mongoose was introduced some years ago to combat the snakes and rats in the cane fields. Apparently, they cleaned up on the snakes, but were not so successful with the rats, so turned their attention to easier prey. They are now blamed for the decrease in ground-nesting birds. Wild boars used to be very numerous, they were slaughtered wholesale by the Spaniards for the manufacture of lard. Mysore cattle are bred for their tick-resistant qualities and are used for draught purposes on sugar estates. There are a few sheep, but goats are ubiquitous. Mules and donkeys are commonly used for beasts of burden.

There are few song birds in Jamaica, the scavenger here is the John Crow, a species of vulture, one of the ugliest things on the ground, but graceful in flight. Crocodiles are still to be found along the banks of sluggish rivers and in lagoons. There are many kinds of ants, from large red ones to tiny, white ones. Termites are a real menace to wooden structures, though their attacks are mainly confined to imported woods, native timber seems immune.

The Palisadoes form a natural break water for Kingston Harbdur, which is one of the largest and safest in the world. The town of Port Royal at the western end at the entrance was at one time the headquarters of the bucaneers, who infested the waters of the Caribbean. Rich beyond the dreams of avarice and very wicked, the town was destroyed by an earthquake in 1692.

The population of Kingston is about 76,000, and it is the chief seaport here. The population of Jamaica is about one million, 95% are black or coloured. The agriculture side is cared for by the black, the commercial side is run by Chinese, East Indians and Syrians. The yearly income of the island is over two million pounds, half is obtained from custom duties. The original inhabitants of the Island were Arawak Indians who were exterminated by the Spaniards.

October 10: The pup which Leitch keeps tied to one leg of his bed is not a sanitary arrangement at all, and the animal has never been taught any hygenic habits. So there have been some hot arguments about the bad odors caused by the pup. Finally, Leitch swung at Bellecourt and the latter closed with him and a real wrestling match began, someone would have been badly hurt if Sgt Abel had not come in. No dog should be allowed day and night in a hut where men sleep.

We were paid our duty allowance at ten-thirty, then I went on afternoon patrol, south side two to ten.

The Paddy Wagon went out three times during the night, some fellows are making merry on their eight shillings. Rum is too cheap and too strong. A dive called the White House was smashed up.

October 11: There was an identification parade today, to discover the guilty parties. Two men sentenced to 28 days detention. Archie Rutherford, Commander of the Quarter Guard. Not involved in any way.

October 12: Another identification parade. Two men were escorted to the hospital to see if they were physically fit to take punishment. Then, at three, Linfield, Dame and Maybury escorted them to detention barracks.

October 13: Morning patrol of MQ, six to two. Very hot and clear till noon, then a heavy rain and dark and cloudy all afternoon. I talked to a Sgt Maybury of the Shropshires, who is home on leave from Curacao, Dutch West Indies, and he said fruit and vegetables were expensive and difficult to procure. Water had to be shipped in, the town was clean but the. island was mostly a desert, the Dutch could not be trusted, there were a lot of guards to be done around oil tanks and refineries, four hundred men on duty at a time, said we were lucky here.

The recent rains here at Up Park camp have really worked wonders. The grass is shooting up and green as emerald. Show in mess hall tonight, "The Amazing Dr. Clitterhouse", starring Ed. G. Robinson. It was a fantastic crime story. Old Bud Harvey all packed up and ready to return to Canada, eyes very bad, possibly glaucoma.

October 14: Clear and quite hot, I have my biscuits out baking in the sun to get rid of some bugs. I am on night patrol tonight, south side. A beautiful moonlight night. No boat mail or parcel has come in the past week.

October 15: We were paid this forenoon at ten-thirty. I got two pounds. The Colonel gave us a lecture after dinner. He said these brawls downtown have got to stop. Any man caught fighting downtown will get twenty-eight days detention and he has the power to give up to two years in military prison.

October 16: I was on morning patrol, six to two, MQ

October 17: Last night I was on night patrol, one of eight men. We carried our new night sticks which we had to sign for, they are about two feet long, heavy and awkward, with a knarled handle and a leather loop to go around the wrist. The only intoxicated soldier we saw on our beat, (Batten and I were together), was arguing in the Wonder Bar, so we took him out, put him in a taxi and sent him back to camp. When all the MP's on town patrol returned to camp, we went to the cookhouse for lunch.

One of the K.S.L.I. who spent twelve weeks in detention, is out and drinking hard while he waits for a ship to return him to Curacao and his regiment.

This morning the Colonel and Captain Baird were in to inspect the floor of our hut which has been soaked in used oil. It really stinks. You cannot drop anything without it getting soiled. They tested the floor to see if it was inflammable and decided it wasn't. I asked if they would treat their own floors the same way. I got a couple of icy stares; after they left I got a strong reprimand from Sgt Abel. I was about to remind him that he wouldn't let the oiling crew into the cubicle at the end of the hut where he slept! And I noticed an angry glitter in his eyes, and realized he could put me up on orders for insolence.

I got a roll of newspapers from home today and five letters which were very welcome. I was certainly pleased to hear that Victor Hart is a Sergeant and cousin Harry McLaren is a Major. I was on the gate six to six all night.

October 18: Last night — was thrown in the guard house for accidentally discharging his rifle while charging the magazines. Fortunately no one was struck by the bullet. Two men broke out of isolation wards in the military hospital, they are certainly asking for trouble. Twenty-five men raced up at the double when the bugle blew defaulters, this has to be a record.

The police force is supposed to be getting a new bicycle and three flashlights. Well, a bunch of the boys got parcels today. Red (Trevor Du Bedad) got a big fruit cake which he generously shared.

October 19: I was on morning patrol six to two of MQ There were a bunch of kids in their own swimming pool, all white of course. I threw in some pennies for them to dive for. I wrote letters in the afternoon. Tonight the sergeants are having a dance in their Sgts. Mess. They have canvas screens all around their front garden.

October 20: Overcast and raining. The eggs were bad at breakfast, they were broken out of their shells last night and standing in a large tub on a hot night. Must have soured them. One of our buglers got in trouble with the native police last night. Also a purse snatcher was caught and really manhandled by the J.I.V.'s.

Movie tonight in the mess hall, "Show Down", by chance a Hop-a-long Cassidy picture. I went on night patrol, ten to six in morning. Last mail in was magazines from Isobel Rice, good reading. Sheets changed on beds, never saw such "tattle tale grey". I don't believe they ever were white. On Saturday night, Sgt Hopper came down from Newcastle for the dance. Borrowed a shirt off Steven and a belt off Big John Skifinski, also deck shoes.

October 22: I was on East Main Gate, a very hot and deserted spot, six to two. Two men came out of detention barracks, they are easily distinguishable by Staff Sgt Hutchin's haircut; it's a wonder he even leaves the ears on. The two released men take no responsibility for their incarceration, all they can think of is taking revenge on those who caught them, no rehabilitation is evident there.

October 23: Rained heavily in the night, still drizzling in the forenoon. I am on patrol, south side, two to ten. Down by the grandstand on the edge of the polo field, some of the coloured R.E’s were digging out old cast iron water pipes that were buried about a foot under the surface. These pipes had lead gaskets at the joints and bolts through the flanges. The pipes had been covered with tar when they were laid down to help preserve them. Though buried for fifty years, they looked to be in good condition. The RYA said the pipes would be used again. I was told they belonged to an old camp ground which was abandoned for an odd reason. A very wicked officer, named Colonel Bush was in command, and he had a reputation for cruelty When he died, his body was chained in the tomb, but that could not hold his spirit. His ghost walked in the dead of night in the guise of the orderly officer and turned out the guard. Next morning, the men who had responded to the spectres summons would be found unconscious, some never regained consciousness. Those that did were never normal again. The grave of the Colonel was once marked by a brick monument, but this was torn down when the J.I.V. Club was built. To this day, the vicinity is known as Bush Guard and the gate nearby as "The Duppy Gate". Duppy is the native word for ghost. Bordering the road are three magnificent mahogany trees.

October 24: I was on main gate from six a.m. to six pm I was talking to a chap in D Company, named Iverach. He comes from Isabella, went to school with Cecil Kelly, one time U.G.G. elevator man in Pipestone, was pallbearer at his funeral. This Iverach was around' Killarney for awhile and knew Kay and her father.

October 25: The J.I.V.'s went on a route march early this morning with their band, drums and fifes, leading them. I washed and blancoed all my webbing, polished my shoes, etc. Wrote letters home. Eleven hundred refugees have landed on this island. They came from Malta and will settle in a big camp just completed at a place called Mona.

October 26: Up all night on patrol, slept all forenoon. This evening Dusty Dame and I went down to the Carib and saw "Up the River", very funny. Last night someone stole the magneto off the motor of Capt. Lloyd's car in the MQ, so two MP's are patrolling there tonight. The Captain is very angry. Someone told him to take his mag. to bed with him, just for sparking. He was not amused!

October 27: The Band is back from the Hills and played for church parade. I was on patrol two to ten, MQ Two men are being held for smoking "gangia" which is the native word for marijuana. Letters from home, Mrs. Wm. Forder has passed away, very sad, a fine person.

October 28: Italy has declared war on Greece. Galbraith and I are on night shift at the main gate, six to six. No laundry women allowed in after five-fifteen. No civilians allowed after six. No cars allowed outside N.D. Allowance.

October 29: Cpl Sam Kravinchuk slept in my bed last night on the new sheets before I even had a chance. I hope he has nothing catching, he just came down from the hills.

October 30: Pay day. I was one of the men who stood behind Capt. Davies, the paymaster, with a revolver strapped to my belt. Then I went on afternoon patrol, MQ, two to ten.

October 31: Dame, Linfield, and I went downtown to buy some Xmas cards.

November 1: On the east gate and the Cotton Tree, six to two. C Company men, on police, began to pack for Newcastle, the RSM came in and said he would like us back in the Force when we get back from the Hills.

November 2: All C Company kits had to be piled on the square at 7:45 this morning. Advance party left yesterday, the second at 7:45 and myself and the other C Company men on police left with the main body at 1300 hours. I am back in K hut, same one I was in last time.

November 3: Quite cool up here. We scrubbed out the hut. Polishing brass. Company fell in for inspection of rifles. Bud Harvey had disappeared and he is to leave tomorrow, after his departure having been cancelled three or four times.

November 4: Reveille 5:45. We had to be on the square with rifles at six for a half hour of drill. After breakfast we had Lewis and Bren and standing and kneeling and lying load. After dinner a shower of rain and a grudge fight between Steele and Calvin.

November 5: Room orderly today, but all ranks had to fall in for inspection of respirators. A show in the combination school and church called "Millionaires in Prison". One of the IC staff wrecked the Chinese Tea Garden and was under close arrest.

November 6: Had our early morning parade in a light drizzle of rain. After breakfast, we went on a route march with large pack on back, water bottle and rifle. Barely got back in time for dinner. At two, compulsory sports, some boxing under supervision of Lance Cpl Bruce.

November 7: Training with rifle, Bren and Lewis. Then a fatigue party cutting bamboo for vaulting poles with dull, rusty machetes. The bamboo is heavy as lead, no one wants to try vaulting with anything so heavy and awkward.

November 8: The coat of arms of our regiment is to be put on the great rock embankment that faces over the Parade Square. Jack Hardy broke a bone in his hand while boxing today. It rains every afternoon up here. Cowie and Shultz wrestling today.

November 9: Early drill, then scrubbing out the hut, followed by a route march led by Lieutenant Walker. We marched three miles downhill, then about turn and climbed back, took the last mile as a fast clip, about half the men didn't even try to keep up, but I kept my place just to be stubborn. I notice no officer on a route march ever carries a rifle or a pack on his back, and yet he sets the pace, very peculiar.

I got a Regina Leader Post from Auntie Isa in the mail.

Tonight studying the Bren gun manual when an earthquake tremor passed under the hut and all the windows rattled and the lights danced. Most of the boys have gone to the show, "Anthony Adverse".

November 10: Church parade at eleven. Capt. Askey, the Padre, motored up to take the service. Raining, scrubbing webbing, polishing brass. Chamberlain has died.

November 11: Woke up with a bad sore throat, first I've had on the Island. I think it is the infernal dampness, the mist that is always rolling over these hills, and the rain. We were rushing around today when the bugle blew, "no parade today". Then the orderly Sgt told us of the poppy parade, and the Company runner told us to fall in at ten to eleven. Then the mail call blew and I got two letters. When the "fall in" sounded, we fell in and old Nobby Clark told us our badge and coat of arms and crest were to take their place beside all the other fine regiments that had served here, The Shropshires, the Sherwood Foresters, the Manchester Regiment, the Yorkshire Regiment, the Fusiliers, the Army Service Corp., etc., etc. Then we stood to attention and observed the two minutes of silence. While the bugler blew "The Last Post" and sounded the Reveille, poppies were presented by the NCO's. Tonight we tried to build a fire in the fireplace, but chimney refused to draw, all the smoke came out into the hut. There is no dry wood around here, it is all green with constant rain. There are a lot of rats around here, one got into a fellow's barracks box, or chest, and ate his bananas.

November 12: Drill as usual, then light machine gun, lecture on poison gases. Chlorine, phosgene, tear gas, toxic gas and mustard gas, deadliest of all, it smells like garlic. At two, some were boxing, some playing volleyball. Roosevelt has been elected again. Some of our men have received word that their wives gave birth to children. Burden and Millar each have a boy.

November 13: We had a route march to Hardware Gap, where we turned off down a steep, bridle path which led to an old plantation and vice-covered ruins of an old stone wall. Modern buildings had been erected, and the owner clad in pyjamas and dressing gown invited Walker and the Sgts. inside for rum, while the rank and file stood without and ate green bananas which gave us severe heartburn.

Marched back for dinner and found that newspapers from home had arrived for us. We were engaged in compulsory sports (you are going to play whether you want to or not) when we were ordered to assemble a list of names were read out, mine among them. We had to dress in battledress order and be prepared to leave, so we did and now we sit waiting for three blasts in G from the bugle, which is the signal to fall in.

November 14: Well, it never blew. All parades cancelled on account of rain. I was on kitchen fatigue. Another inspection of rifles and bayonets. And then pay parade. Captain Bowman ordered the canteen must be kept closed in case the detail had to leave suddenly, he did not want anyone to be the worse because of liquor. I have a beastly cold in my head, but so have most men.

Got two pairs of sox from home, the original cost was eighty cents, postage twelve cents. And I paid eleven pence or twenty-two cents, duty on them, before they would release the parcel to me at the post office.

November 15: Second-in-Command supposed to be coming up for inspection, so instead of locking the huts, they put on room orderlies instead. Some newspapers were issued at noon. Sports at two, horseshoes, etc. Mulvaney is on police and he is lying in wait for natives who are bringing rum into camp. I wrote home tonight.

November 16: Interior economy and then a route march. We did not march as fast or as far as usual owing to the fact Lt. Walker was not with us. Instead, we had two short-legged Sgts., who hate marching. They told us when they enlisted they were told they would never march. They would ride in trucks, the army would be mechanized, more efficient, so they grumble, grumble, grumble to us, but never to the officers. I helped Lavery and Greg carry a radio gramophone from Fleets up the Sgts. Mess for their dance tonight. Halbert and McArthur are playing horseshoes against Durant and Ross for a shilling a game. The losers got into a bitter wrangle when the eventual reckoning came up.

Tonight, parcels came in. I got a large one from the Ladies Auxiliary at Pipestone. I paid two shillings in duty taxes, it had a $1.20 worth of stamps on it. The government is determined to get their pound of flesh. But it was a very good parcel and a lovely Xmas card from Mrs. Hewitt.

The show tonight was the life of Emile Zola, a great show, but the sound was so poor, we could only hear half of what was said.

November 17: No parades today, a pleasant change. I bought some snapshots from Alec Henderson. The boys are throwing horseshoes again. Concerning last night's parcel, the other men in our hut were amused at the fact that as well as cakes and cookies, I received a pair of knitted wool wristlets!

We have been up in the Hills at Newcastle for two weeks and have another two to put in before we go down again. When it isn't raining, it is cloudy and misty. I have a beastly cold, the first since I left Halifax.

Hummingbirds fly in the windows of our huts during the odd sunny day and at night, the bats and fireflies flutter in.

November 18: Parades as usual and all forenoon spent on the Lewis gun, an obsolete weapon from WWI. More stoppages than anything else. Lieutenant Harper came up here, Walker went down to Up Park Camp. Big Red Aitkens got a transfer to B Company. I got five letters today. The Sgts. team was beaten at volleyball. Four of our men got seven days CB for going to Kingston without a pass. Treflin, a Rainy River kid, has rheumatism, a Sergeant has piles, I have a bad cold in the head.

November 19: Rained all night, simply poured, and a strong wind. Still raining, we studied anti-tank rifle (the one that is useless against German tanks) all forenoon, in the huts. No sports at two, I wrote letters. Show tonight "Gullivers Travels", clever and amusing.

November 20: Rain in the night again. Arms drill before inspection, laying out all our kit on the bed, everything we had ever been issued, so Capt. Bowman could look for and enquire about shortages. A lecture in the church from Major Clarke about barrack room breakages, etc. After dinner, a lecture from Capt. Bowman re: censoring of mail and why it was so necessary. After both lectures, the NCOs were kept behind to be bawled out by the CSM for not maintaining better discipline, etc.

Today Cowie and Halbert had some bitter words, the former is moving out into another hut on account of it. Tonight I had a few games of ping pong.

November 21: Usual drill and lecture by Sgt Tugby on section leading. A few parcel slips given out. At two we started playing volleyball, played till four, had a shower, water cold.

November 22: The Company will only consist of two platoons from now on, because enough men cannot be found for three. Someone asked where all the men disappeared to, there was an ominous silence. Some wag said all those AWOL had gone up to join the Maroons on Blue Mountain, there was a roar of laughter, which was instantly and harshly suppressed, menacing threats were made by several Sgts. about people who join the army to have a good time.

November 23: I am on kitchen fatigue today. I had to unload the ration truck and carry rations into the storehouse. Spent most of the day peeling potatoes and onions. The show tonight was held in the school, "March of Time and "Family of Nations".

November 24: Church parade at eleven o'clock. Dress was tunics, slacks, and belts. Askey the Padre, had come up from below. The very short program and sermon that he gave seemed to be intended more for the officers than for the privates. This afternoon I had Coutts and Eric and Herb and Robbie Robinson sample the cake that John and Kay sent, and they pronounced it excellent. Then we played volleyball on the concrete tennis court

November 25: I was room orderly today. I got four letters from the family and two hankies from Ethel Hart. Robbie is going down to take someone's place on the staff of the IC. The two guards at the Bamboo Hut were relieved of their duties, Harper and one other sent to relieve them.

November 26: Early morning parade cancelled. Instead we fell in at 8:15 with rifles, battle order, haversack containing two meat sandwiches, one of cheese and one of jam. We marched nine miles and halted at a stream that ran in a rocky bed. Five men fell out on the way down, three on the way back. We had a shower and a cup of tea. Harper was the officer who led us. We marched at a pretty fast pace. Show tonight was British news and "Buck Benny Rides Again".

November 27: Room orderly today. Inspection of rifles, bayonets and respirators. Some of the former were not satisfactory and the owners will have to parade again with them at three. Dooley only got two days detention to be served up here (and it's a cinch serving here) compared to "Hutchin’s Hell" down below. He was only docked eight days pay. We hear there are 52 men sick with Denghi fever down below. Raining here. Native R.E.'s building a fireplace in the hut below us. The Greeks are driving the Italians back.

November 28: We had a lecture from Tugby on infantry leading. Then maneuvers in the Hills. We reached camp just in time for Pay Parade. We were all short paid. I only got 30 shillings. Most fellows were a pound short. There is something rotten in Denmark, maybe closer than that!

I ordered some snapshots from Dick Wilson. One is a snap of a monument erected on the Ladies Mile, about a quarter of the way up St. Catherines Peak. It commemorates a tragic incident in 1885 when two officers of a Highland Regiment fought a duel and killed each other, over a girl who had just arrived from the Old Country.

November 29: I was room orderly. On account of the rain we had a Lewis gun class in the hut. Packing for returning to Up Park camp. At two took all our kits up on square and it simply poured. We stayed in the guard house till transport finally arrived. By the time we arrived down below and unpacked, it was supper time. Heard one of our men went crazy with rum and gangi (marijuana) and had to be put in a straight jacket and taken to the detention barracks. Heard all duty on parcels is to be cancelled, hope this is true.

November 30: I went on IC guard. They are using far more men, and there are more huts and a bigger compound to guard. There are elevated platforms posts at the corners now. I only got three hours sleep last night.

December 1: Came off guard this morning, scrubbed my webbing, got three letters and three Xmas cards, one was from Clem Fraser! CSM Logan ordered me to go back on the Police Force. The dear old man, now I can forgive him everything. I went on the main gate with Walt Young, a very decent, sober man.

December 2: Came off duty at six. A shipload of prisoners will dock tomorrow. They have been out in the harbour for some time in quarantine. Four died out there.

December 3: I was on point duty at the intersection N.E. corner of the enclosure from 8:30 till 2, while the busloads of prisoners and truck loads of luggage went past escorted by our motorcycles and military trucks. The nine buses each made three trips. Then I continued on duty from two to ten on MQ.

December 4: Tonight I wrote out eighteen Xmas cards in the reading room of the library.

December 5: We were paid our eight shillings, five pence today. The Company of Essex Infantry that brought the prisoners, over 400 Italians and Germans, were shown around Up Park camp and in the afternoon played the Grenadiers at football. The Essex won, they were well disciplined and organized, and had a finesse that was almost perfect. They came from Sierra Leone, "the white man's grave", they had all had malaria, had been a month on the water, were still convalescing from the fever. They had been on the Dark Continent for five months. No troops were ever allowed to stay in that location for more than a year and a half.

December 6: I moved from hut 14 down next to the Police Hut. Went on camp patrol two to ten, a truck load of MP's went downtown for three perennial trouble makers who have a long record of conduct prejudicial to military discipline. All three are in the guard house. The Essex were on board their ship ready to sail, when another order came through and they came back in the garrison for supper. They say this is heaven compared to Sierra Leone.

December 7: I scrubbed my webbing and hung it in the sun to dry. My second pair of issue boots I sent to the regimental shoemaker, came back with a horseshoe on the heel and the sole studded with square hob nails, it must be a practical joke, no one else has them. I wrote some letters, sent 30 Xmas cards. The Essex wear a very full blousey type of K.D. shorts, which are doubled up and buttoned at the top. The idea is so at night they could let them down and tuck them inside their puttees to cover their knees on account of malaria mosquitoes. They have long sleeves on their shirts. We have short ones. They are allowed to wear suspenders, we are not. They are not forced to polish their brass while on shipboard, we are.

We put Fagg in the Guard House to sober up. A certain CSM ordered his release, Fagg beat it downtown again where the RSM spotted him and ordered him to return to camp, which he refused to do. So, he was up on orders and only got seven days CB, which I cannot understand.

Tonight I went on duty at the main gate at six. Len Mulvaney was ordered to share the shift but he was having too good a time downtown at the Goody Goody. He phoned and said he would return when he felt like it! He did not return till quarter to nine, and he was unfit for duty, fell into a deep coma, did not come to till quarter to five. Some people can get away with murder.

December 8: Well, we are back on sea level again, and in spite of the heat and more onerous duties, I think I prefer it. The duty on parcels has been cancelled from the 10th of this month until the 10th of next. We used to have to go halfway downtown for them, but now there is a regimental post office in Up Park camp.

The mail corporal weighs about two hundred and fifty pounds. I glanced in on him once and he was fast asleep and snoring loudly with ten large mail bags piled around him waiting to be sorted. He always hints we should open our parcels right there and let him sample them. What nerve! We used to have two mail boats as well as a plane, but from now on there will be just one boat.

The first parade down here is PT and a certain portly private was doing his bending exercises and puffing loudly, when an officer strode up and enquired, "Are you getting rid of that stomach yet?" Naturally the private was irked by such a personal remark, and he bristled up and said, "No sir, and I don't intend to, this stomach cost me a lot of money."

Well, this is the warmest December I ever put in, in my life. Lord, what a topsy, turvey world! One of our men was sending a parcel home, and we asked why he had put eight, bright, gaudy Christmas seals on it. He said the postal clerk had ordered him to put "decorations" on it; in reality the clerk asked him to affix a "declaration" for the customs. Another man took his comrades rifle when he was going on guard, because it looked cleaner than his own. He was up on orders for this. When we were issued rifles, we were ordered to memorize the serial number, mine was 14832.

There are no bare, leafless trees here, the leaves fall alright, but as fast as they drop, their places are taken by fresh green ones. The almond trees are very ornamental, their leaves a very bright shiny green, nearly a foot long and six to eight inches wide. The nuts have a thick, fleshy covering which the natives eat as a cure for fever. Our Padre, Captain Askey, was presented with a huge orange, nearly as big as a football. I don't know if it was a freak or a natural one.

The poinsettia grows here like a large shrub or bush, about three feet high, all around the NAAFI It is in full bloom, very ornamental. Bob Grace said this would be a wonderful country if we were not in the army, and if there were no black people here. I said there are too many ifs in that statement. Len Mulvaney chimed in, "There is no reason why the coloured regiment, here, can't provide the guard for the internment camp, we should be in England!" A passing sergeant paused long enough to observe that if Len got as far as England, he would soon go AWOL to Ireland! L. shouted for WM to come back, and repeat that statement, but the Sergeantkept right on going. Len has quite a reputation as a scrapper.

He always had his hair cut short,

He always had catarrh,

His voice was gruff, his language rough,

His forehead villianous low,

And (neath a broken nose, a vast, expanse of jaw did show He was forty-eight about the chest, and his forearm at the mid Measured twenty-one and a half (it really did!)!

I went to bed after breakfast and slept till noon. Got papers and magazines from home in the mail today, sent a Jamaica paper, and Daily Gleaner home to Dad, wrote letters. It is raining tonight.

December 9: All the MP force were called up as witnesses in the case of the Terrible Three, when they appeared before Company Commander Major Clark. After the hearing they were remanded to the Colonel. At three o'clock, we all went up again, stood around the orderly room for an hour, before we were called in. A Cpl on the IC guard was tried for leaving his rifle (loaded), leaning against a fence. He was told this was an offence punishable by death, but all that happened, he was stripped of his hooks and reduced to the rank of private. We have been warned a thousand times that while our rifle is loaded, we must hang onto it at any cost, even our life. Dooley only got five days detention for his last AWOL When the three bad boys came up, the adjutant read out three sheets of evidence against them. In a very condensed version, the three were absent from duty, downtown without a pass, improperly dressed, drunk, out of bounds, refusing to obey a lawful order from a superior officer, using obscene language, threatening dock officials; over seven charges laid against each one.

Witnesses were called from the MP's sent out to pick them up. It took a long time at the trial for each witness to tell his own version of the story. The accused all had the privilege of questioning those giving evidence. Only one prisoner used the opportunity, he turned on the adjutant, and asked point blank, "On the day and date mentioned sir, had you, yourself, been drinking?"

The adjutant grew black in the face, his little moustache trembled, he was visibly agitated, he struggled to regain his composure, and then answered in the negative. All three were asked if they cared to make a statement, none could give a lucid explanation for their actions, except they had all been in to Sloppy Joe's Bar and each had had a pint of rum before the trouble started.

When asked if they preferred to take the colonel's punishment or choose a court martial, they decided on the latter. It was very late when these preliminaries were concluded, about seven o'clock. We were tired and hungry.

December 10: The Essex are still here! Tonight at six I went on duty at the main gate with Olafson. Symes was the orderly officer and he insisted on the three prisoners in the guard room, each being put in separate cells while waiting for their court martial. I stayed awake all night.

December 11: A ships guard went out early before reveille. Mail call blew at breakfast. I got three parcels, one from Jean, one from Anne, and one from the Rices. Today the MP's were supplied with new armbands and clubs, we had to sign for them and were warned of dire penalties if we lost them.

December 12: I went on N. side patrol of MQ, six to two. We were paid at 10:30. At noon, I got two more parcels, one from Auntie Isa and one from Mr. and Mrs. Schnarr. Tonight the town patrol went out with the station wagon and a truck. We hauled in K.R. Johnson first, for creating a disturbance. Then we went to Victoria Beer Gardens when we found Fred Gard in such an obstreperous mood, the proprietor asked to have him removed. He was crazed with rum and it took four of us to get him into the truck and hold him in there on the way back to camp. We had to carry him kicking and screaming into a cell. Back to the same place, picked up George Stevenson who had passed out, brought him back. Found Fred had torn a leg off a bed in his cell and broken three panels out of the door, to save the last panel he was let out into the main area, where he collapsed unconscious, guarded by an officer and two NCO's; probably this was a natural reaction from rum and overexertion. So we went back out for C and finally found him at the New Yorker, hopeless and helpless, but two reliable friends were with him and they promised to bring him in, in a taxi. So we checked on the passes turned in

and found out some characters were working an old dodge, maybe Adam pulled first, they had a midnight pass, turned it in at the guard house at five to twelve, instead of going to their hut, they climbed over the twelve foot fence (since all the gates are guarded) and once over the fence, would beat it downtown again, but they would be AWOL. since they carried no pass. Well after midnight when we got to bed.

December 13: Hardisty gave me a wad of dough to hold for him, I know he would do as much for me, a very reliable person. I took a worn out pair of Army issue sox to the QM stores and instead of giving me new army issue, they gave me a beautiful pair of hand knit sox from the Ladies Auxiliary. There is something phoney going on. A very reliable Sergeant told me Auxiliary sox are to be given to men, they are not under the jurisdiction of the Captain Quarter Master, just what does Le do with the army issue he is supposed to give out, each time you hand in a worn out pair of army issue?

All MP's are issued with flashlights to be used on night patrol, if we lose them or damage them it will cost us six shillings. We should have had them months ago. I went on duty at the Cotton Tree Gate, two to ten. It has appeared on Battalion Orders that this gate was not to be used by our troops, but solely for the J.I.V., but our men persist in using it anyway.

December 14: I was getting ready to go downtown with Hardisty when Bob Grace Warned me I was to stand by as witness in the Fred Gard case. We went to A Company's orderly room and Fred was marched in by an escort before Major Trist and charged with resisting arrest, and attempting to escape from his cell. All he got, lost two days pay, had to pay for damage to the door. Bill Hardisty and I went downtown, and I bought a five pound money order and sent it home to Jim. I bought a few pictures from McGregor's. Went on south side patrol, ten to six.

December 15: Came off duty, did not bother with breakfast, slept till noon, very tired. Got seven letters today. The same cartoon in two letters, of Mussolini running by Arch Dale. Saw, "My Favorite Wife" tonight, a movie with Irene Dunn and Cary Grant. It was a scream, one of the funniest I ever saw.

December 16: I was on the main gate with McLeod, six to six. The three up for detention each got twenty-eight days detention out of their court martial.

Percy Williams unfit for duty. What a pity, with all his experience and expertise. I sent a parcel home containing the wool underwear I was wearing when we left Halifax.

December 17: I got two parcels from Manitoba, one from Isobel and one from Rice's. There was a great line-up at the post office waiting for parcels. Some stood for an hour. I went on south patrol two to ten. Had a chat with old Mr. Potter of the Soldiers Home. His wife died a week ago. Simpson got a pup from somewhere and it howled all night.

December 18: I sent $21.94 home to Jim by air mail and registered. Had to get it censored by Major Simpson before it could be registered. What ridiculous red tape in the army. I went on south patrol, two to ten. Dropped into the Soldiers Home for a glass of lemonade.

December 19: We had to turn in the three blankets each man had, they are to be disinfected and then each man gets one back. A corporal had just paid 4 shillings to have his dry cleaned and was very loath to turn his in. I went on the main gate with L.C. Galbraith. There was a girl, native; coloured, selling tickets on a bottle of whiskey! I asked if it was for any patriotic cause, and she said no, a friend of hers just wanted some pocket money! The infernal gall of some people.

December 20: About three o'clock in the morning, a taxi with three coloured people in it, drove up to the gate and said four soldiers had wrecked the Savoy Bar. So Maybury and Galbraith went down to look at the damage. At four o'clock, a taxi drove up and out stepped four soldiers! It looks very suspicious.

When I went to wake Molyneau, the bugler refused to get up and great unpleasantness resulted. I yanked all the blankets off him at 5:30 and upset his bed, but he didn't get up till 13 minutes to six, so was two minutes late blowing Reveille. I'll say this for Wilfred Ball, he never refused to get up, never failed to blow Reveille on time. Mail call went during breakfast and I got a card from Melvin Brandon. I wrote letters this afternoon.

Tonight headquarters Company put on a concert in the NAAFI It was very good. Michelon, the private who was made a Sgt in order to act as an interpreter between us and the Italians out at the IC, did a number if impersonations that fairly brought the house down. He was wearing a pair of battle dress trousers that were three times too big for him, he was just floating around in them. The band played some excellent music. Sgt McNaughton who is very short and fat, put on a skit that had the crowd in stitches. He imitated a lady getting ready for a bath and getting into it. He must have seen it happen, I never did and don't expect to. Toews played the violin, he is very good. The Colonel came to see the show.

December 21: I was on south side patrol today, six to two, chatted with a little nine year old girl, Margaret Terry. I never saw such a sober child. I was determined to see if I could make her smile. So I told her that there once was a boy, and his name was Algie and he met a bear, and the bear was bulgie, and the bulge was Algie. She just stared at me, and then she said, "You'll have to tell me when to laugh." So I gave up and continued my patrol. There is a heavy cable (overhead) which carries the current for the streetcar line on the South Camp Road. I saw it snap, and saw the blaze of flame when it fell and struck the track, which it actually burned and melted in one spot. The streetcar conductor mournfully informed me this was the third time it had happened in that same spot, he sadly said it must be weak there, and I solemnly agreed.

The Essex boys were supposed to leave today, but the order was cancelled at the last minute, and as their kitchen was all packed up, they ate with us today. One of them was telling us of the souvenirs he had in his kit bag out on the ship. A leopard skin, a snakeskin belt and a hat badge of the French Foreign Legion.

December 22: When we were trooping into breakfast, we passed the big tin-lined horse trough that we wash our dishes in. It was missing all day yesterday. Now it's back in place this morning, and it had raisins and currants and batter adhering to its sides. It would seem the cooks mixed up our Xmas cake and pudding in it yesterday. We had boiled eggs for breakfast. We had just sat down when ships guard call blew, all men knew at least a day ahead if they were on ships guard duty, and these grabbed a couple of boiled eggs and shoved them into their pockets, and ran to their huts for their rifles for they knew transport would have trucks waiting for them at the main gate.

The usual church parade with the band in attendance. Dick Wilson moved into the hut I'm in, he has a good camera and takes good snaps. It began to rain, looks as if it would continue all night. The Essex are still here, I have one of their Eagle buttons. During WWI, their Regiment wiped out a battalion of Prussian Guards and captured their colours which had an eagle on them. So ever after the Essex have claimed the right to wear an eagle surrounded by oak leaves, it's almost a medal. The Essex moved into Freetown, Sierra Leone a thousand strong. They have had as many as 500 in hospital at one time with malaria. Four men died the first month they were there. Four of their men are in our hospital right now with a relapse. Old Alf Johnston always takes a gloomy view, he says any mosquitoes biting the Essex and then biting us will give us malaria for certain. But I do not see many around, nothing like the swarms we have at home in the spring.

When the Diomede captured the Idlewolde, some Germans were wounded, three or four were taken to our military hospital. One had a bad head wound, he died yesterday, we saw the gun carriage being taken away behind a truck, six Germans from the IC were pressed into service as pall bearers.

Tonight I went on the main gate with Carl Jonesson, I let him go to the show. All afternoon the sergeants have been carousing in their mess. We can hear them singing lustily, even the RSM It is raining heavily and the night is rather dismal.

December 23: Clearing a little with intermittent showers. This morning each man was paid a pound. When I offered Dick Wilson the fifteen shillings I owed him for snaps, he cut it down to twelve. The Essex are leaving this morning at 5:30. I gave a Sherwood and two Shropshires buttons for two of their eagle buttons. They don't know where they are going, perhaps back to Sierra Leone, perhaps to England.

December 24: I went on morning patrol in MQ six to two. A dog with very large upright ears and an anxious expression, kept following me, and bringing sticks and stones in its mouth in the hope I would throw them for it to retrieve. It was rather embarrassing as all the little children in the MQ were shouting, "Throw something for the dog, mister!" All the children appeared to be playing with new toys they got off the Xmas tree last night which was held in the writing and reading room, between the canteen and the billiard room. Corporal Henderson and I were looking in one of the many open windows before the program started. They had what they called Father Christmas, with the regulation costume but his coat was a long one reaching to the floor. The tree was a juniper cedar from the Hills and was well decorated. I had no idea there were so many white children in the Garrison. The room was crowded, of course their parents were there too. I couldn't help but think of the last Xmas concert we ever had in Paramount, and wondered if we'd ever have one there again. Surely our good times are gone forever.

Today, while on patrol, I was accosted by two white ladies, Mrs. Harrison and Mrs. White. They were highly indignant because a guard had been placed around their house one evening while they were entertaining. I said it was the first! had heard of it and so it was. But they are army wives, all of them and they knew very well if they had a legitimate complaint to make, they should go straight to the Provost Marshall, as he is in charge of all the MP's. I jokingly asked if they were having a wild party or creating a disturbance and they were horrified, or pretended to be anyway, you can never tell about women for sure. All I'm sure of is I don't know much about them.

I just heard that Clubb (my old sparring partner of Minto days) had been slugged on the head by a native downtown last night. The native was caught and held by civil authorities. Yesterday, I got a cable from Jean, "Compliments of the Season". It was very sweet of her. We are wearing our sun helmets today, they are actually made of cork covered with cloth, and every application of blanco makes them heavier. The trees are as green as ever. The poinsettias and the bougainsville are still blooming. This might be eternal summer here for all appearances in December.

There is a concert in the NAAFI this evening and what I saw and heard was very entertaining. Old Alf Johnston singing, "The Picture of the Girl I Left Behind Me", which was rudely interrupted by a call from downtown that the MP's were wanted. So we tore down-town and picked up Rentons at Kelly's Rum Barrel and RS., short, squat and evil, with a stupid, fat, brutal face. He was ugly and insolent as usual. Back at the guard room, Reg Smith was put to bed three times and insisted on getting up each time, as he said he wanted to go to Mass at midnight. The other truck picked up someone who had passed out at Crossroads. This is a great way to spend Xmas Eve. Is this the way these people act at home? God help their families.

Dick Wilson has been getting some wonderful pictures from sailors lately of action at sea.

December 25: Xmas Day dawned bright and clear. Breakfast at 7:45, one egg, one-half a grapefruit, bread, margarine, jam and tea. Last night the Captain Quarter Master was in a rage, Stinson had borrowed his car and gone downtown and it had a great many parcels and letters in it for the other officers. Finally the Capt. had to hire a taxi and go looking for his car. I saw two

come in through the main gate last night with their arms around each other's neck, singing "Rule Britannia, Britannia Rules the Waves", at the top of their voices.

Well, today the sun is blazing down and we can hear explosions away downtown, from hundreds of firecrackers. Evidently this is the way the natives celebrate. It doesn't seem any more like Xmas to me than any other day since we landed here. For dinner today we had beef and ham, mashed potatoes and peas. The only good potatoes and peas since we left Canada. Ice cream in Dixie cups which had melted into liquid. For the drinkers there was beer, but no tea, so I drank water. The Colonel came in and spoke to us for a few minutes. He said he had tried to get turkey for us, but when he asked the India Cold Storage to secure sufficient turkey for 682 men, they held up their hands in horror and said there wasn't that much turkey on the whole island. He went on to say he knew the heat was trying, the place and people not congenial, etc. etc., but he said he expected we would be out of here in three months time (at which there was tremendous cheering), he qualified his statement by saying that was his surmise at least. But he didn't say where we were going when we left here. C Company CSM Frank Logan came along to where a bunch of us C Company men were eating and he told us how he felt. He was in, what was for him, a jovial mood. He told us he wouldn't be afraid to lead his company anywhere, and he invited us to drink a toast with him, and he named it, "No bayonets in the back". Then he told Coutts, "You are my pet, I love every hair in your head," we sure laughed and George got kind of red. Then Sammy Burden came along, and he and the CSM cussed each other for awhile.

Three of us were called to the hospital, where we picked up a Cameron, who was breaking out of a hospital ward, brought him back and put him in the guard house. Patrolled till ten, came in, went to bed, Xmas Day over.

December 26: Last night (so we heard this morning) Simpson borrowed a car, and in an attempt to avoid a collision, crashed into a fence. The owner said it may cost 15 pounds to repair it. Some mail came in, Jim sent me a "Producer", a "Country Gentleman" and a "Saturday Evening Post". Jim had marked a couple of letters in the latter, I read them, they were certainly good. This evening old Dave Johnston, who is night watchman and police at the Brigadiers, came in and told me how in the happy days before the First World War, he had worked for Ben Knudson and what a lovely woman his wife was, (Mrs. K.). Well, I go on night patrol of MQ, ten to six, a long night. I have to keep moving all the time or I will fall asleep.

Sgt Speed Darrogh was attacked as he entered the Green Bottle Bar, by a native with a pistol and another with a knife. Suffered powder burns and a bullet crease and a gash on the left side of the body from a deflected stab. Three other Grenadiers were beaten brutally about the head with broken bottles.

I walked around on married quarters for sometime between showers, and came in for lunch, it was nearly eleven, but the PO was open and I got two parcels, one from Mrs. T McNicol of the Grandmothers Club, and one from Dave and Eileen. I went back to my beat and Mulvaney walked around with me for a spell.

December 27: I opened the two parcels and dined royally, did not bother going to the mess hall for dinner or supper. The pint of canned turkey that Eileen sent was fit for a king.

December 28: I was on the main gate with Sam Silky His mother was Danish, his father Swiss. Tonight I was on town patrol, Cpl Harvie of D Company is back on police force. When O'Connor went wild in the Hills and ten men couldn't hold him, H. put a hammer lock on him and put him in a cell. Tonight the Sgts. are putting on a dance in their mess.

December 29: Heard this morning that Dooley had been stabbed last night downtown, by a female with an ice pick, but it was accidental and by mistake, but how Dooley could be mistaken for a block of ice is a mystery. At breakfast, L. C. Smith, the small, fair, mournful one, was bewailing the fact he was not popular with the rank and file. "Well," I said, "As long as you are popular with the fair sex, why worry?" "Well," he admitted, he wasn't popular with them either!

Mail call blew this afternoon, I got sixteen letters (some were cards), some from people I haven't heard from in years. Dull and raining this afternoon and evening. As well as all the correspondence I received today, I also had a gift of a Waterman Pen and Pencil set in a leather case from Mother and Dad and some good linen handkerchiefs. You can see that when mail reaches here, it comes in large quantities. The letter from Dad and Jim was postmarked December 9th.

There is a large bulletin board in the Garrison and Battalion Orders are displayed there very prominently. Anyone who is up on orders, and tried, and sentenced, gets a lot of publicity. There are also endless warnings about what parts of Kingston are out of bounds to the troops, also warnings we must not mention anything pertaining to military matters.

Came off duty at six, did not bother with breakfast, slept till noon, rainy today, wrote a lot of letters. An R.A.F. pilot was killed on this Island, a party of air men are attending the funeral as the firing party

December 31: On the main gate with Thomasson six to six. He is an Icelander who wandered all one night, lost on the ice of Lake Winnipeg, in a blizzard. His face was terribly frozen, his nose never came back to normal, only Sgt Wiley was cruel enough to continually remark on it. When I was sick in my hut with Denghi Fever (no room in hospital, it was full), Thomasson brought me a cup of hot tea from the cook house every meal.

I had to go on duty again as traffic cop at seven, outside the gate as there is a big dance for all ranks (who are not on duty), in the NAAFI. A couple of big tents are also up for refreshment booths. Dick Wilson was the first person ejected from the dance and lodged in the Guard House. About fifteen sailors came whose ship had just docked and they picked up some wild companions on the way to Up Park camp, all classes and colours. W. and H. are on the main gate, the latter has a sprained ankle, badly swollen, should not be on duty at all.

We are kidding Dick Wilson about having a dusky girlfriend, actually she has a good education, her family are wealthy, but her father hates the military. He uses a phrase coined during the Napoleonic wars, "The brutal and licentious soldiery." Dick took her out to an expensive restaurant once, he had to "slap her hands to make her behave". "And who was there to slap yours?" asked Hardisty. Dick Wilson cannot go near her house if her father's home. This affair will not last long, or go very far when she is on a strict curfew.

One of the Camerons from Aruba was put in a cell for the night. He had a crying jag on. It wasn't funny, it was tragic, he hadn't heard from his wife in four months, and all he had from his son was an official notice of being seriously wounded. I relieved the guard at the Cotton Tree gate for lunch, then came back and stood with the other GMP and watched the big clock above the guard house door tick out the last few minutes of 1940. We could hear the crowd at our dance whooping it up and fire crackers exploding downtown and on the platform behind me, in a shadowy corner near the phone booth, a white girl nestled closer into Sgt Abel's arms as if she was shrinking from the New Year, and fearful of what it might bring. The murmur of the Sgt's voice usually so confident, sounded anxious and a little strained. She began to sob.

Dick was the first person to wring my hand and wish me a Happy New Year, and then, with a sudden break in his voice, he said solemnly, "We never know where we will be at this time next year." I felt a sudden chill, almost a foreboding as I shook hands with Hardisty. His hand was as cold as ice.

When the dance broke up, the motley crew streamed past us through the main gate and poured over the drive outside awaiting taxis. It was three when I started to get into bed and Bob Grace came in and told me the happiest hours of his life had been spent on this island. He was so elated I could not bring myself to spoil his mood, but I thought grimly to myself, "I wish I could say that."

Chapter 3: 1941

January 1, 1941: I slept in and missed breakfast, then was routed out to act as room orderly, sweeping and scrubbing. Then grabbed with three others to act as traffic police, eleven to two, at the officers mess, a sort of party, dance, band concert and drinking bout. Came in and had a late dinner.

January 2: My puttees were faded, worn and frayed, so I took them to QM stores to exchange them, but Beare would not consider it at all, when I offered to buy new puttees, he roared "Get out!"

Ceremonial drill began this morning, under Capt. Bailey. He is trying to introduce a number of Imperial drill movements and it is very confusing. I had a hair cut, we have three barbers now. Went on south side patrol two to ten. There are a lot of parcels in the PO; at ten tonight they are still being issued with agonizing slowness. Mine came from Anne and John and home. With the help of Corporal Harsey, we were able to corner a cow that was out of bounds and run her into the pound, before I came off duty.

January 3: I scrubbed my webbing, hung out my battle dress to air in the sun, cleaned my rifle, got two cards today. The GMP took over the guard house from the Quarter Guard today. Some of the boys are making up a Xmas Box for Lance Corporal Bruce because he didn't get a single parcel. I donated a cake. I went on south side patrol tonight, tried to put a cow and two calves in the pound, but they could run faster than I could.

January 4: Came in off my beat, did not bother with any breakfast, went straight to bed, got nicely asleep and was wakened up and told all GMP must parade before the Second-in-Command Major Sutcliffe. He told us a reorganization of the Police Force was underway, that we were responsible to him, that things were going to be radically different, and we would have lectures and special training. Art Clandenning has been let out of the kitchen, something about refusing to peel potatoes after his shift was up.

January 5: I was on the Cotton Tree Gate before breakfast, then after, in charge of traffic at the church along with Hardisty and Cpl Maybury. Then back at the Cotton Tree till two. I was talking to a batman who said Bailey was going to keep the donkey (that a certain Miss Campbell presented to him on the January 1 party) as a regimental mascot. I was there when the big open touring car drove up with the little donkey in the backseat. It did not have hair, but a thick covering of wool over its body. There was a ticket on its halter with J.A.B. (the Adjutant's initials) on it, and the animal had been freshly shampooed and its hooves glistened with crimson finger nail polish. It was and will be a matter of controversy as to whether Miss Campbell was ribbing the adjutant or not. Some say the donkey was intended to represent a conceited ass.

There was a show tonight outside of the orderly room called "The Ghost Breakers", a fantastic thing, not recommended for the weak minded. Both Major Trist and Major Clarke have gone into the hospital to have an operation for hernia. It seems both have worn trusses for years. Both are overweight.

January 6: Some mail came in today. I got some Recorders and a Guide and McLean's magazine. Part of one of my letters describing the country here was printed in the Recorder.

January 7: I am runner in the guard room. The Second-in-Command is ordering all GMP to parade at three every afternoon for inspection and a lecture.

January 8: Runner again. We got paid our 8 and 5 duty money today. I was on a night patrol downtown. Two of our men got out of detention today.

January 9: On our patrol last night, we were ordered to wear our steel helmets. They are hot, heavy, uncomfortable things. Ever since the two violent incidents, Clubb being struck on the head, and Darragh being shot at, the grapevine through the J.I.V. has been that some of our men are marked for death. Some of our men caught last night, out of bounds in the White House. Two letters today, I answered quite a number, one thanking Toppings for a very good parcel. The Grenadier band played over the radio tonight, critics call it a poor performance. Some blame the bandmaster, resentment seems to be building up all the time. The clash of personalities in every company of every unit is unbelievable. I went on duty on the main gate ten to six, a miserable sleepless stretch.

January 10: Thought I'd have a good sleep this forenoon, but had to get up for a parade of C Company men at QM stores. When we lined up in single file alphabetically, it was only to be issued one blanket, which each man had to sign for. Then I had to go on the main gate two to ten. The Second-in-Command had rifle inspection for the GMP at three, quite chilly tonight.

January 11: A strong, cold, north wind blew all night. I was actually shivering this morning. Went on the main gate six to two. Then walked out to Trafalgar Park to see old Dave Johnston, and saw a few of the floats in the pageant going around the race track at Knutsford Park. Came back in the evening, grabbed for downtown patrol, along with Thomasson and Iverach. We went downtown in a truck and caught three men out of bounds.

January 12: We think our mail is slow in coming, but at least it is getting through eventually, so far at least. The local paper here, the Daily Gleaner, frequently mentions mail to the U.K. from Bermuda having been lost, "owing to enemy action". A cargo of Xmas mail went down among other things. When our ships guard goes out to escort vessels into the harbour, the ships crews always make some reference to German submarines.

Tonight I went on duty at the Cotton Tree gate, dressed in wool-serge battledress, ten to six. Mulvaney came along and talked for a couple of hours.

January 13: Came off duty this morning, never bothered with breakfast, dropped into bed, and was wakened an hour later for inspection of rifle and bayonet serial numbers, had to carry them up the Company orderly room to be checked. The army is one long, endless series of irritations and aggravations. It has to be experienced to be believed. The main idea is to keep men in a state of perpetual anxiety, wondering what is going to be sprung on them next, never getting enough sleep, always expecting something unpleasant to happen. Then I had to appear as a witness against Harkness of A Company. Caught out of bounds in the International Bar. There are probably more bars in Kingston than any other place on earth. Some idiot will have a few drinks and then throw a bottle through the huge plate glass window behind the bar and another brawl will start and someone always gets hurt. I had to go on duty two to ten, South Side patrol.

January 14: Inspection by Second-in-Command, 8:30. It is a dull, cloudy day. Bill Jeffery gave me a poem he wrote while doing detention. It is very good, if anything pertaining to detention can be called good! I went on duty South Side patrol, two to ten.

Raining off and on all afternoon, quite heavily. Two more B Company men on police, Bilyk and Bronson. The latter was on South Side patrol with me for a couple of hours last night.

January 15: We got paid at ten o'clock, as we left the paymaster, we fell in again in three ranks and marched up to the hospital, where we got a shot in the arm to protect us against typhoid fever. There are a large number of typhoid cases downtown among the natives. An Imperial told me there is spinal meningitis among the K.S.L.I. on the Island of Curacao. One chap died in 48 hours.

I went on South Side patrol, two to ten. Clearing up this afternoon after some heavy showers. Tonight a couple of our men were brought in from downtown and put in the guard room, charged with creating a disturbance and striking a Chinese gentleman. The Chinese and the Hindus own the large business concerns here, they work hard, and are very astute managers and directors of free enterprise. I dropped into the Soldiers Home and old Mr. Potter was deep in a discourse on a scripture passage with the Padre's batman and a Jamaica girl, I had the strong suspicion her mind was far from any scripture, so I drank a cup of tea and left in a hurry. The tea was good, anyway.

At ten I took the parcel slip waiting for me, to the PO and picked up a parcel addressed to me. It was from a Miss Tuttle of Eaton's. I do not ever recall meeting her, or hearing of her. Very strange.

January 16: Quite windy, inspection at 8:30 by Second-in-Command. This afternoon I saw polo being played on the polo field, and not far off, some Jamaican girls in their school uniforms were. playing ground hockey with a rubber ball instead of a puck. A very stern governess chaperone disapproved of my innocent observation of her charges, I said, "This is my beat," she retorted, "Then beat it!"

January 17: We had rifle inspection by the Second-in-Command, and then had to lay out everything we had ever been issued, for kit inspection by Lieutenant Anderson. He never liked me. He declared jubilantly that my ration bag was missing! I pointed it out to him, and he turned away, grinding his teeth.

Last night four men broke out of the military hospital, went downtown, out of bounds, created a disturbance, were set upon by natives who carried knives. Captain Crawford had to be summoned to sew them up. This afternoon while patrolling around officers' quarters, I met two batmen, Whitfield and Campbell, the latter was carrying Lieutenant Walker's wedding ring (a Birks and Dingwall). He is getting married to a girl of this Island. Mail tonight, three letters for me, one from Ethel Hart with a picture of her and Victor.

January 18: This morning the Second-in-Command inspected our rooms and beds. He is certainly picking on us, trying to find fault. I finally got the trousers (K.D.) I had ordered from the native tailor, cost me 12 shillings, 6 pence. The army trucks are hauling in a dozen water tanks and stacking them near the NAAFI. Our gloomiest pessimist says we will be sent to Aruba, and these water tanks will hold our water supply for a year! Last night there were MP's guarding the hospital. I cleared a bunch of gamblers out of the R.C. Chapel. They were highly indignant. Biltz was stripped of his two stripes today for twice being out all night.

Well, Lieutenant (Bucky) Walker was married today to Marie (Deamons) Du Quesnay in a Catholic Church. Walker gave in to that, as he said her religion meant more to her than his meant to him. He is getting seven days leave for a honeymoon up in the Hills.

The anti-malaria inspector was complaining about mosquito larvae in the trough, in the pound, where we (try) to put all the stray animals. So I drained the trough and refilled it, and as there is an old graveyard beside the pound, I walked through it. It is unkept, overgrown with grass and weeds. All the dates are in the 1800's, one was a Lieutenant, only son of a Captain, who was in turn the son of the late John Johns of Dalancothy, Wales. Anyway, the first mentioned person died here, at Up Park Camp in 1869 of dysentry. What an ignoble end to one of an illustrious line. God only knows how many of our regiment may die!

Tonight the Arnold gate must be closed an hour earlier, and the two officers gates will be, as soon as the Armorers or Pioneers or the R.E.'s get locks for them.

January 19: For breakfast we got a sample of a fruit that is a cross between an orange and a tangerine, delicious, very juicy, but only one per man. This afternoon on from two to ten again. Everyday I pass the monument that stands in front of the church, it was erected in memory of some of the victims of the January, 1907 earthquake. Tonight I dropped in to say hello to old Mr. Potter of the Solders Home; a Miss England came in with a bunch of lilies for Mrs. Potters grave. I was very desirous of making her acquaintance, but Mr. Potter apologetically explained she was a "very refined person" and quickly ushered me outside! I made my moody way back to the barracks and pondered over the attitude of the white people here, and I wished a million times we had been sent to England.

January 20: Potter is an elderly Englishman who does his best to run the Sandes Solders Home. He manages it to the best of his ability. He is very frail and terrible lonesome since his wife died, so I drop in for a chat now and then. The troops do not patronize the Soldiers Home very much and it hurts Potter. He says he cannot understand why they go downtown for rum, when they could come to his place for lemonade and a quiet game of checkers. He spent the best years of his life in India and he is a saintly character.

Yesterday, a travelling team of professionals, the Cuban Elegante Giants, beat our men in a softball game 5-1. The Cubans were talking exclusively in Spanish, jabbering away at a great rate. One of our men was up to bat and had one strike on him, he turned to the catcher and said, "Why can't you talk a white man's language?" At the same time, the pitcher shot a straight fast one across the plate, and the catcher remarked in perfect English, "That's two on you, brother!" The Cubans were very fast, could really play ball, but I don't think they ever did anything else. They should be good.

I went on six to two as runner, but changing off every hour with the MP on guard at the main gate. We had our usual inspection and lecture from Second-in-Command. Really hot in the forenoon, raining in the afternoon.

January 21: This morning I escorted Foxhall up to the hospital so he could be examined by a doctor to certify him fit and able to endure his punishment. He is getting six days detention for being AWOL for 2 1/2 days. Then I accompanied him to his hut, and he took most of his belongings to his Company's QM and left them with Sgt Breakwell, left his rifle and bayonet with the armorers, packed one kit bag and his knapsack, and wearing his belt and webbing I took him back to the guard house. At ten to two, I escorted him to the detention barracks and the minute Sgt Maddox (Staff) saw him on the step outside, he roared "Double March" and Foxhall started! According to protocol, I had carried down his portion of his unfinished day's ration (his supper) which he was entitled to under K.R. and Can. (Kings Rules and Regulations). Staff Sgt Maddox asked Foxhall if he had ever been here before, and when he answered in the affirmative, the

Staff-Sergeant roared, "Then you've had your chance, you'll never get another." He gave me a signed receipt to the effect that he had this day and date "received the body of Private Foxhall." He said he would send the ration tin that I had carried down (with Foxhall's supper in it) back, when the latter had made a good job of cleaning and shining it, so I left the unhappy Irishman to his fate.

A lot of things have been happening that shouldn't. Some fellows have been visiting friends in the isolation wards, which is strictly forbidden. Someone broke into a house on the South side. Mrs. Bailie has been making a fuss over the fact someone went to her next door neighbour and asked for CSM Fryatt. She considers it a libel on her character. There is also trouble over the new order re: dogs must be licensed before the end of the month. Yesterday, when the Second-in-Command lectured us, he admitted that while in England during WWI, he had gone AWOL, and he got fourteen days detention, and was fined that many days pay, and yet it was his first offence. One of our men asked the Provost Marshall for permission to speak, when this was granted, he addressed the Major and asked, "Sir, just how many days were you AWOL?" The Major refused to answer.

January 22: On duty six to two, alternating between runner and guard at the main gate. Roy Kirk is on the force for a week's trial. Carl Jonesson is on a charge for having a radiator cap in his possession. He also had a bottle of rum cached inside the barrel of one of the big old cannons beside the main gate. A K.S.L.I. discovered it and nearly made away with it. The Second-in-Command is going to get us whistles to carry on the beat while patrolling. Mulvaney of A Company was brought in from Cross Roads last night and lodged in a cell. The J.I.V.'s are moving into the huts the Essex stayed in when they were here.

Tonight I went to a meeting at the Soldiers Home (a club where no liquor is allowed). I only went because old Potterhad asked me so many times. There was one other Grenadier there, the Padre's batman and two Imperials, Sgt Day and Major Harvey, a Jamaican, and five strange women I had never seen around the Garrison or the married quarters. One was stout and deaf, one upright and attentive, and the only young attractive one sat as far away from me as she could (without sitting on the floor), she sat with her toes turned in, busily taking notes. Major Harvey led the discussion after reading a passage from Romans, about Abraham's belief and something about his avowal of expressed faith before and after circumcision. Then he launched into a long, dreary monologue and incidentally, he criticized the Toc H at which Private Johnston flared up in defence of, and then Mr. Potter woke up from his nap and gave a fiery discourse on politics! Then Johnston got up and left in a rage, and the Major carried on with his abstract theorizing, till the deaf, stout lady broke in with, "Will someone lead us in a hymn?" and she looked straight at me. I had a wild impulse to burst out with our regiment's theme song, but I didn't dare, the words were:

We are the galloping Grenadiers you hear so much about.

The mothers hide their daughters whenever we go out,

They all steer clear of a Grenadier, he's always in a jam,

For half the Company is CB and nobody gives a d***.

Our underwear is trailing, our dress, I guess, for us was never made,

Weeping and wailing, the Winnipeg Grenadiers are on parade, are on parade. ...

I mumbled something about having to get back to barracks, then I accidentally stumbled over to where the attractive girl was sitting with her pencil and notebook and I whispered, "I wonder if I might borrow your notes, just to keep the subject matter fresh." The deaf lady's hearing was suddenly restored, like a miracle from the Bible. "Young man," she snapped, "you're fresh enough I think." I backed out through the door, but I noticed the young lady was blushing, and old Potter was patting her hand.

And to think I had turned down Stevie's invitation to go to Palmer's and listen to a really fine collection of band music records. Stevie said he had actually gotten within six feet of one of the girls before the chaperone intervened.

January 23: The usual shift six to two, alternating between runner and guard at the main gate. As Sarginson had to go on dental parade, I spent my time on the gate. Peggy Lloyd, Captain Lloyd's daughter, who tears through the main gate on her bicycle a dozen times a day (just to show off her lovely legs) had her pup on a string today. It was having some difficulties in keeping up, she returned carrying it, she said the dog lay down.

Major Trist and Major Clarke, both in civilian clothes are up and around. They say they hope to get ten days sick leave in Canada! Doctor Crawford, our M.O., was in hospital. He came out today. All the men of the different Coys who went on sick parade this morning are CB'ed for twenty-four hours, as today is a half holiday.

Maybury caught a native wearing a pair of our deck shoes and locked him up. All the GMP have to blanco their sun helmets the same colour, out of the same pail, by order of CSM Adams. I spoke to Sgt Day about the meeting in the Soldiers Home Club, and he said he thought Major Harvey was much too smug a person to be a good Christian. I entirely agree.

January 24: Same shift. Inspection of rifles again, by Second-in-Command. He gave us some arms drill in front of the Guard House, and did his best to confuse us. When we were standing at the "at ease" position, he would give us the order "Present Arms", we had all been taught never to move unless a correct order was given, but he claimed we should all have "shunned", then "sloped arms" and then given the "present". Likewise when given "order arms" from the "present", we would automatically work backwards. Not one CSM in the regiment would agree with him.

Two offenders were brought in during the night and locked up. Two are AWOL About a dozen K.S.L.I. are here on leave from Curacao, they say this is a far better island. The new officer, Capt. Yetman is not creating a good impression, of course he never went on any twenty mile route march and never carried a rifle and forty pounds of equipment.

I got five letters this afternoon. Jim says the flu hasn't been so bad since 1920, the snow is deep, and there is a terrible shortage of school teachers. There is Bingo in the NAAFI tonight, but I didn't go as my eyes are sore and aching from standing at the main gate in the full glare of the sun reflected from the whitewashed pillars. We should all be wearing sunglasses but the practice is frowned on, except for officers.

January 25: Stratton got seven days CB for being AWOL. He is swearing revenge. Heard the South Sask. Regiment is overseas and Dave Parrot is in England. Are the Camerons over? A very heavy shower of rain this afternoon. I wrote a lot of letters.

January 26: Cpl Maybury cross-examining a number of MP's, re: a station wagon which he suspects transport of smuggling out of barracks and sky larking around with, during the night. Mail call blew and I got three letters. Tonight Bob Grace came in and talked for a long time, he used to work in the mines in B.C. He is planning to build a houseboat and live in all the sheltered coves and bays up and down the B.C. coast. He says you can live on salmon, and pan for gold in every little creek. I brought out the last cake I had and we shared it. He is a great athlete, played a lot of lacrosse.

Between eleven and twelve, a regular barrage of firecrackers are exploding downtown, sounded like distant rifle fire.

January 27: We can still hear firecrackers this morning. Someone said it is the Chinese New Year. Inspection at 8:30 by Second-in-Command. Then it was my turn at the usual weekly chore of gathering up sheets and pillowcases, taking them to the QMS. and getting clean ones. One of the latest additions to the Police returned to duty left here to join B Company in the hills. There is a CO inspection of huts, beds, etc., at ten. At two, a battalion inspection on the parade square of rifles, bayonets, webbing and haircuts. It is a wonder more men do not go crazy with all the eternal incessant inspections. Sarginson and I on hospital guard, from ten to two, then we trade with Hardisty and Jeffrey who are on MQ for remainder of night till six. We carry flashlights, clubs, and whistles, there is one bicycle for the two men on MQ Several calls came into Guard House, several men came in by paddy wagon, one had been assaulted by a native using a bottle and a splintered glass.

January 28: Came off duty at six, went to the reading room of the NAAFI and slept on a chesterfield until noon, when one of the MP's wakened me for dinner. Some parcels came in tonight, Carl Jonesson and his brother got a big fruitcake and divided it up, it was real good, then under the influence of good home cooking, the Icelandic in Thomasson, Jonesson, and Sam Silkey, came to the surface and they discoursed volubly in their native tongue, it was most entertaining. They say Lieutenant Bardal of A Company speaks the language well.

January 29: The night passed off quietly for once, we had two lunches which helped to pass the time and break the monotony. This morning I slept from six to four in the reading room of the library, no interruptions there, came back to my hut and Adams was cutting up a raisin pie some of his friends on the Island had given him. He gave me a piece. I had slept through breakfast and dinner, so I broke my fast on pie!

On orders that appeared today, the Battalion Headquarters is incorporating the GMP, or in army terms, we are attached to them. So Del Fisher is our QM He was ordered by the Second-in-Command to check all our kit and shortages. We may be charged a pound each for the heavy winter underwear we left in Fort Osborne or threw overboard from the Lady Drake, or mailed home from here.

Tonight, back on duty again. Mulvaney and Cardinal are AWOL; Starrett brothers got a heavy rap for breaking out of hospital. Reduced to the ranks, fined and ninety-six hours detention. There were not two other smarter men in the battalion than he and his brother, when they were sober. They could strip the lock on the old Vickers and replace a broken Sear spring like lightening. At twenty-five after three, found a certain CSM in MQ with Mrs. Edwards. We nearly came to blows. This is a very mean job. A little later, met Mrs. Edwards and Mrs. Bailey wandering around in their dressing gowns looking for their dogs which were barking in the distance. Sarginson rode up on his bike and the two women harangued us with all their old grievances. One said, "Hutchins is a skunk, but Maddox is a hundred times worse." Not content with reviling their own country men and threatening dire reckonings when (and if) their own husbands returned they turned their attention to "These bloody Colonials, the Canadians ...", so I discreetly withdrew when I saw Hardisty coming, and we went into lunch. MQ patrol can be a fearful headache.

January 30: I had a couple of hours sleep before pay parade. Then I got a haircut. Tried to sleep in the reading room but woke up with a dozen big cushions piled on top of me that some joker had put there. Dozed off again and someone woke me for supper. There is no peace anywhere.

January 31: The Second-in-Command and the Provost Marshall dogging our patrol, trying to catch us unawares all night. They did not succeed. Despicable conduct on their part. I have never slept on duty yet.

Had to stay up till 8:30 for rifle inspection. Gave my boots to the QM to be turned in for half soling. Tonight Reg Smith went out, contrary to orders, and came in the main gate when the orderly officer was standing there, insulted Big K, the guard on the gate, and then struck him, so was confined in a cell for the night.

February, 1941: That was an excellent photo of the family group which John sent me, taken June 2. When I showed it to George Coutts, he said his grandfather looked exactly like Dad. Incidentally, his grandfather farmed at Plumas, and became quite well-to-do on a single quarter section, but it was heavy land, and they had lots of rain. George talks a great deal about farming. We agreed that harvest is the best time of the year, when there is a reasonably good crop to harvest, but a very bitter experience when there is little or nothing.

I showed the picture to old Dave Johnson and he said he knew Dad. He "could tell by the brow, it was Wullie Forsyth." The more he talked, the more people he began to remember; Andrew Jack and his farm with the trees around the yard; and Alec Anderson, and how he was killed in a runaway at Huston's. He never tires of talking about the people and the times, before WWI. He becomes so genuinely moved, so enthusiastic, I can almost understand and feel what was meant by those lines;

The dead are coming back again

The years have rolled away .

And,

"It's often the past, that we love the best, at last,

Altho' it comes back through tears."

February 1: The CO inspected huts at ten. Reg Smith, a perennial delinquent, is in the clink this morning, he went out last night with Easwill's cap and lost the badge off it, was AWOL when he should have been on ships detail. Most of B Company are clown from the Hills, except for 27 men who were ordered to march down by Capt. Hodkinson, this must be a special form of punishment, as marching men are a hazard for traffic on a narrow winding road. A Company takes their place up there. A call came into the Guard House, trouble at Victoria Beer Gardens. So a truckload of MP's went down.

February 2: There are nine prisoners in the Guard House. I slept till noon.

February 3: I came off the night shift at six this morning, slept till noon, went on duty at two, guard at the main gate for a week of two to ten shifts. I got six letters this afternoon. Molyneau, the Australian bugler, has been celebrating for a week over the news that his wife has given birth to another girl (the third). I wonder what he'd do if she had a boy?

In Jim's letter, he said Tom Forke had passed away. The pioneers are dropping away like autumn leaves. There have been more deaths around home since I left, than for years before; I can't understand so many going, almost at once.

February 4: Last night, Ward was smuggling rum into the Garrison from the J.I.V. Club. Guy White has been caught with liquor in his hut, I suppose he will get off with yet another reprimand, very strange how some are treated with kid gloves and others have the book thrown at them. Du Bedad came in from fatigue digging the RSM garden at Virtue Villa (that is the big label posted above his hut). Du Bedad gave me a brass shoulder badge he had found. The letters formed the word GORDON, I found out later the Gordon Highlanders had been stationed here in 1920.

Some replacements on the force are L. C. Johnston of B Company and Sgt Speed Darragh on now.

February 5: Got all ready for inspection by Second-in-Command, waited till after nine, it was cancelled, same as yesterday. The case of Dube and the station wagon which left here in the middle of the night, is being tried, he got ten days CB and a fine.

February 6: I am on duty two to ten all week on main gate. Got ready for inspection and lecture, waited, waited, waited . . . cancelled. I am beginning to suspect these lectures are a waste of time anyway, an exercise in futility. Went on pay parade for our eight shillings and six pence, which is supposed to take care of the duty we are forced to pay on all parcels we receive.

Tonight Cpl __ was trying to get out without a pass and I refused to let him out, as he would simply get me into trouble. Jaskiewitz is on the force for a few days on a trial basis.

February 7: Another rifle inspection cancelled. What a farce. So we had a lecture at 8:30 from the Second-in-Command. Then Sgt Holdsworth sprung a surprise check on serial numbers of rifles and bayonets. They must think we are trading them or selling them!

A regrettable accident happened, one of our good, careful, transport drivers was driving downtown, when a young girl jumped off the bus without looking and was struck by the right fender of his vehicle. He stopped at once, phoned for an ambulance, saw her to a hospital, but her condition is critical. Tonight there is a big dance down at the Silver Slipper at Crossroads.

Lance Corporal Faulkner, who once worked for Jack Gonty near Belleview, came along, and I asked him if he knew Marguerite Gonty was married, and he said yes, Jean Henuset had written and told him. Then he told me he had written a letter home and posted it downtown (so that none of the officers could intercept it, or censor it). He told everything that was happening here and exposed some of the rackets. Like the one pulled off in the QMS., such as the fact that we had to turn in a pair of worn out army issue sox before we could get a pair of the gift sox that the Ladies Auxiliary had hand knitted and sent us for Xmas. Then he made a few strong remarks about some of our officers and our administration. The letter got as far as Ottawa, where it was stopped and opened because it had no official censor stamp on it. Ottawa mailed the letter back to our Colonel asking if all these statements were true, and if so, why? So, G. Faulsoner was called before the Colonel and asked for an explanation. Hard to say what will happen now. Hard to explain some of the poor food at

Up Park camp, like native beans with stones in them.

February 8: There were two fights at the Crossroads, the second was a riot. For once, the natives were entirely at fault, some of our men were badly cut and bruised.

Yesterday, Cpl Fisher came in with a pair of dice that he had found in the pocket of a blood stained tunic in an old forgotten packing case full of odds and ends, when he was helping clean out the QMS. in Minto Armories in September of '39. He has been very lucky with these dice and yet they are not loaded. He has had some high offers for them, but refuses to sell.

There is a bitter feud brewing between two sergeants, started last night at the dance where they were not drinking lemonade. Yesterday, Simpson, the bugler, was twenty-one and his friends (7) threw him in the deep end of the swimming pool, fully dressed. Bitter recriminations are being hurled back and forth between the two feuding sergeants. The jealousy, spite and actual hatred that is accumulating in this regiment is appalling! There is a party and a dance in the sergeants' mess tonight. Some good looking women came in through the main gate.

February 9: There is to be a court of inquiry today over the fracas that took place down at the Crossroads. The native police will not place any blame on their own people or take any action.

A heavy rain this evening, a regular downpour. The dispatch rider told me he had tangled with his own brother downtown. The D. R. (a brother of Big Red Aitkins) said to me, "The rum is dynamite." Both men had black eyes and cut lips. Jeffery came back from downtown without his shirt.

February 10: A very heavy rain in the night and quite a wind. I was chilly in bed. I was room orderly today, got a chance to write letters.

February 11: Rained again during the night. I was on main gate six to two. Dull and cloudy. A big dance at the Springfield Club tonight. Jeffrey has written a poem on the riot at the Crossroads. It is very good. He does not pretend to be another Kipling, who said,

There was a row on Silver Street—the regiment was out, They called us "Delhi Rebels', and we answered "Three's about".

That drew them like a hornets nest—we met them good and large

The English at the double, and the Irish at the charge.

There was a row in Silver Street—it isn't over yet,

For most of us are under guard, wid punishments to get Tis all a mericle to me as in the Clink I lie;

There was a row in Silver Street-begod, I wonder why!

Perhaps the army hasn't changed very much since Kipling's time.

Inspection called for battledress, wool serge, etc.

February 12: Rained heavily during the night. I was on MQ six to two, when I wasn't relieving Jeffrey on hospital guard. We had a muster parade of the entire battalion at two o'clock. Tonight, Geroge, Stevenson, Adams and I went to Dave Palmer's house. Mr. Palmer is an officer in the Salvation Army. Dave and his oldest sister, Peggy work in the bank. There are two other sisters, younger, Kathy and Bunty. The family have travelled widely and lived in Argentine, Korea, and Cuba. Dave's hobby is collecting phonograph records, mainly band music. He played a number for us on the machine connected with the radio in such a manner, that the music comes through the radio's loud speaker. They appear to be a very fine family, kindly and hospitable. I believe George Stevenson is very interested in the oldest girl, Peggy Lloyd, who works in the bank. I told him she would have the most money!

February 13: I was guard on Hospital six to two. Everlasting rumours always floating around, that only NCO's will be trusted with keys for garrison gates, etc.

February 14: On east gate six to two. Pay parade, mail came in, several rolls of papers for me. I bought nine shillings worth of snaps from Cecil Fines and Dick Wilson. Latest rumour, C Company going on maneuvers at Montpelier, nine miles from Montego Bay.

February 15: On Cotton Tree gate six to two. I fared well at the gate, a native brought a gift of fruit for someone who never showed up, and I bought a water coconut for one penny off a cart load that passed, and it held about two or three cups of milk and the flesh was like a soft boiled egg, but more sweet and nourishing. Tonight Chapman was unfit for duty and P. and Dunn are confined in cells.

February 16: I was on south side patrol. On duty tonight, as guard at the show. The British war news was good. The main feature was "The Untamed", a doctor in the Canadian North.

February 17: Seven prisoners had been locked up last night. Dooley and Fagg have each been awarded seven days detention. I wrote seven letters today, tonight I go on night shift at eleven.

February 18: Came off duty at seven, after a long night of riding a bike around MQ I had a lunch at four and did not bother with breakfast. Slept in the reading room until suppertime. Radio tonight claims U.S.A. and Japan nearing war.

February 19: A long night on duty. I slept all forenoon and part of the afternoon, on duty at the show tonight. It was called "This Man In Paris". After the show, one of the buglers was found unconscious lying near the cook house, with a head wound. First Aid Station was notified, a station wagon picked him up and took him to the hospital.

February 20: Molyneau found signs of a struggle at the Cotton Tree gate, a badge and keys and bloodstains, probably relating to the bugler's escapade. I slept the forenoon till two; at 2:30 there was supposed to be a grudge fight between Kirk and Jaskiewitz, it was a farce, only lasted one round, the latter claimed he had sprained his wrist in the first round.

Trouble downtown, two of our men involved, one struck a native policeman. Another of our men, McCorrister is in a cell raving. The adjutant (Pinnochio, as he is known in the ranks) went out with the ships guard to check up on them. The transport driver said he would give him every bump he could. The bugler found unconscious had been fighting at the Cotton Tree gate with one of the GMP Olcen, who only hit him twice, and only with his fist, but Olcen hits hard.

February 21: A quiet night, I slept through the forenoon till 2:30. Heard the band playing for the parade of the troops on their march to the Soldiers Home Club, for the official opening. The Colonel stood the cost of a free lunch for everyone. Canadian women are sponsoring the place now. They are supposed to be the wives of Canadian bankers and professional men.

Tonight the Japanese Fleet is standing off Singapore in a threatening manner. I got a letter from home and one from Winnie Rice.

February 22: Coming off duty at seven I was told to get dressed in shorts and puttees for an inspection by the Second-in-Command at eight. When we fell in, in front of the Guard House, the Second-in-Command told us he was going to Montpelier to take charge of the camp there, and he hoped we would persevere in our duty to the best of our ability during his absence He urged us to be lenient with drunken Sgts. and NCO's, and try to get them to bed without any fuss or bother, but all privates must be made an example of, and thrown in a cell in the Guard House, and a charge of drunkeness laid against them. When our little lecture was over and we returned to our huts, there was much guffawing and horse laughter. I went to the reading room and slept till four.

The bugler who had the head wound, has a very large sticking plaster over his forehead. He was actually ashamed to go into the canteen, so he asked me as a personal favor, to get him a cup of tea and an air mail stamp. Tonight most of the boys have gone to the Soldiers Home Club to have some music and a few square dances.

There is a dance at the Sgts’ Mess tonight. They were having a circle two-step, the men on the outside circle were travelling at a pretty fast clip, when the circle broke, Sgt Earl Dickie skidded across the floor and crashed into the radio, and cut his head open, and broke his collarbone. I feel sorry for Sgt Earl Dickie. This is something that could happen to any Sgt, but it just happened to happen to him. I don't think he ever laid a charge against anyone in his life. He was always modest and helpful. He was a veteran of WWI and still single.

February 23: I had orders to wake the Second-in-Command at three o'clock this morning. He sleeps in the Colonel's house. About thirty NCO and men were roused early and left before five, they formed the advance party for Montpelier of D Company The advance party from A Company coming down from Newcastle is here. I think Starrett must be loco, he says every man in A Company has a machete and they are going downtown to clean up on the natives.

When the tumult and the shouting died, and the Captains and the Majors did depart, I got in a couple of hours sleep before noon. I got two letters after dinner, one from home and one from Jean.

February 24: Last night I caught Milord of D Company in MQ This morning I slept till noon and then went on the new shift three to eleven, south side. This evening there were some boxing exhibitions held in camp in a regulation ring but no one was backed against the ropes and beaten mercilessly. A lot of cautious long range sparring. Sunday night the show here was "A Date With Destiny", Basil Rathbone a marvelous actor. Tonight I dropped into the Soldiers Home. Whitfield was telling me what a wonderful time he had as batman on leave with Major Clarke, how much gin and ginger they consumed in a day, what women they met, and how they travelled.

February 25: I was up as witness against Milord being out of bounds. He could also have been charged with being drunk and AWOL. He only got four days CB Munn is bugling now. On South Side patrol all week. There is a native called Grant who works on some Gov. land, who is always eager to talk as an excuse to pause in his work. He loves to use big words, but hasn't the slightest idea what they mean. I asked him what he meant by spontaneous combustion and he said it was a medical term meaning a nervous shock to the brain! He told me a lot of nonsense, that the Spanish buried treasure at the foot of every cotton tree, that Waireka Hill or Ridge was full of gold, that a table of pure gold appeared in the Rio Grande River in St. Mary's Parish, and a "busha" hitched thirty head of cows on it, and the table sank, dragging down all the animals with it, never to be seen again. He appealed to several passersby and they all agreed with him, so I guess they are all liars or else very gullible.

There are a lot of home defense volunteers training on the polo field, mostly coloured, no uniforms yet, when a squad has arms drill they borrow rifles from the native police. I dropped into the Soldiers Home for a few minutes and chatted with a girl who was supervising for the evening. Her name was Dorothy Laverick, originally from Yorkshire, England, but had spent most of life in Valporaiso, Chile, a very attractive person. She was playing table tennis, very expertly too. Badminton was being played under floodlights on the lawn. The lights were attracting every sort of flying insect life the tropics produce and did not contribute to the general efficiency of those wielding the racquets. We hear the Canadian Legion is backing this place. Everything comes too late in this world. If this place had been here when we first arrived, perhaps there wouldn't be so many men going downtown.

February 26: I polished both my pair of shoes and my bayonet scabbard and the bayonet itself.

February 27: Some sort of native trouble is expected, perhaps riots. A Company is to be kept standing by, in case. The MP's at the IC are carrying revolvers. All MP's here moved into No. 2 hut. The Detention Barracks (Hutchins Hell) are full, so Foxhall has to serve his sentence in our Guard House, is he ever lucky, no one on the double here, no "task", no greasy, sooty pot to scour half the night.

February 28: Rifle inspection, carried out by the orderly sergeant and the orderly officer, Lieutenant Prendergast. This Island is a hot bed of rumours. Some fifth column are plotting to rescue Bustamante from his corner of the internment camp. Some Imperial officers are laying down the law to our Colonel re: native riots and how to cope with them. Pay parade. This afternoon the troops carried out some maneuvers on WD land with a view to defending it from a mob of rioters, who might be converging on the Garrison. The troops rode out in trucks in battle order and carrying bandoliers full of live rounds, and took up positions of defense. Dispatch riders were dashing around on motorcycles, each had a rifle slung across his back.

March 1: Dooley is still in the Guard House awaiting trial on his last AWOL. charge. J. Gard was declared unfit for duty and locked up. Gard was incarcerated, unfit for duty, he had a slight nosebleed in his cell and he kept shouting, Maybury, you "%#)(@*!!, my nose is bleeding to death." Finally, Maybury, exasperated beyond all measure, shouted back, Oh, stuff an old sock in it!" B. C. Moore came in and asked for a cell.

A call came from the J.I.V.'s Club house, a truck went out, picked up Finch, brought him into the Red Cross hut for repairs. Went back and between the Club and the Duppy gate picked up Cpl Donny and the Irish blacksmith. Sgt Darragh was remarkably patient with him, it took a lot of persuasion to get him in the truck. The blacksmith is like a modern Samson, he doesn't know his own strength, and threshed around like an earthquake. He did not appreciate Speed's leniency at all. I'd love to see the Second-in-Command try to hold him down in the back, of an army truck, he would find all his fine theories do not work out in actual practise. We took the two to their huts because the Guard House is full. Later, the blacksmith was found at the Bournemouth Club in civilian clothes! Some people do not appreciate kindness and forebearance. It is simply wasted on them. They take advantage of you every time.

March 2: I am on the riot squad from Reveille from this morning, till Reveille tomorrow morning. I am on Police duty at the same time, but subject to riot call at any time. Must keep my rifle, webbing, haversack, steel helmet and as mask (surely we don't need the latter) ready to don at a moments notice if the bugler blows the General Alarm. Well, it did sound about eleven and I was the second man on the square, ready to fall in. The trucks roared up and we piled into them, stopped for about two minutes at the QMS., where each man was thrown a bandolier containing fifty rounds of live ammo., then we circled the outside perimeter of the Garrison. It was only a rehearsal. Everett, of A Company, has been AWOL. for two days. Clubine was picked up on the polo field, quite ill, taken to hospital. Old Alf Johnston from the San, Qu'Appelle, Sask., a stout old fellow in the medical hut, was telling me his father was in the Boer War, and then a Captain in WWI, and is still living. Alf, himself, enlisted in WWI at the age of fifteen. He says more men are ruined doing garrison duty in a hot country, than any outfit on the firing line in action. Tonight we slept fully dressed in case of riot call.

March 3: I went on the seven to three shift for a week's patrol of MQ; Dooley and Johnston went before the Colonel today. The former got twenty days detention, the latter, three. Tonight I wrote letters. I hear the R.QMS., took a truck downtown, without authorization, took ammunition from the G.H., insulted Lieutenant B., smashed something in the sergeants' mess. D. Baxter of C Company, fired off two rounds while on internment camp guard, today he got ten days detention. Fred Gard and Mulvaney got three days detention for being downtown while we were all confined to barracks in case of riot call. The Cameron from Aruba is not doing his time in Up Park camp, but in the Island Penitentiary till he can be sent to the Glass House in England to do his five years.

Tonight I finished reading "The Man Without a Home", by Rupert Hughes. It is the story of John Howard Payne, the man who wrote the song, "Home, Sweet Home". It is all true, one of the saddest stories ever written. Tonight, some of the Salvation Army came here with a few instruments, and held forth from the "Stadium", or what is commonly known as the outdoor boxing ring. They played on coronets and concertinas, and sang a few hymns. I wish more men had come to hear them.

March 5: This is my day off. We are supposed to get one day off every three weeks. This depends on how many men are in Detention Barracks, and in hospital or AWOL, or if the Interment Camp guard is short of men because too many went on Sick Parade. There are too many eventualities and imponderables to be certain of anything. Once Thomasson's day off came up and he was grabbed by the orderly sergeant for fatigues. He was understandably bitter, I don't blame him. Some orderly sergeants always abuse their authority.

I swept out our hut this morning, then I turned in a worn out shirt, a pair of holey sox and my puttees which are faded and frayed. And he got all three articles exchanged for new ones, he in this case, being Cpl Del Fisher. He will stand right up to the Captain Quartermaster, and after that master of abuse has exhausted his vocabulary, he quietly asks, "Well, do I get it?" The Captain QM is cordially hated by the rank and file. His favorite expression is "Scrounge, scrounge, scrounge. If someone steals from you, you steal from someone else!" This is his philosophy of life, but he has always done the first stealing, he drives a big, expensive car, while the Colonel rides a bicycle. This has caused a great many raised eyebrows, even among the other officers. The rank and file know he was responsible for giving us native beans for breakfast that had thousands of little stones in them. Early this morning, a parcel from the Pipestone Patriotic Society arrived. Very kind of them, I do not see any of the boys I went to school with, in uniform here. They may be in other regiments, thousands of miles away. I wrote about a dozen letters.

March 6: Confinement to Barracks on the whole camp has been lifted at least temporarily. Heard that our meals will improve to the extent of six pence per man per day. Today for the first time since we came to Jamaica, we had pie for dessert for dinner. I was eating better in Cain's Pulp camp near Fort Frances, Ont., in 1934.

Germany has invaded Bulgaria.

March 7: Last night Eric Anderson and George Coutts and I walked over to the Soldiers Home which has been christened "The Maple Leaf Club"; we played checkers, had a piece of pie and a glass of milk. George and I kidded Eric about flashing his "golden smile", (he has three gold teeth in front) at the waitress, and chided him for not leaving a bigger tip. And he said the next time he came, he would leave us back at camp. We walked back to see the free show the Colonel put on for us. It was quite a mix up, some war news, something about the life of a North Sea fisherman, and a comic of Felix the Cat in black and white. It must have been twenty years old.

This morning we had an inspection by the Colonel. We were equipped with our night stick, flashlights and whistles. Mrs. Bailie called to me across her garden fence while I was patrolling MQ She said Staff Sgt Hutchins of the DB, was leaving for England with his wife and daughter. His wife has cancer, hasn't long to live. She said the reason Hutchins was so vicious was because he once had to quell a mutiny in the DB He was forced to kill one prisoner, and cripple two others. Hutchins lost an eye in the fracas, it was knocked out completely.

After dinner I talked to a coloured native of all work, called Campbell, who worked for the Staff Sgt for years. (House and Garden) and swears he is the kindest man he ever knew, and he wept when he said good-bye to him. Showed me the reference the Sgt wrote out for him, it was certainly a good one.

March 8: Some K.S.L.I. on leave from Curacao, left for their Island today. They are very reluctant to leave, since their wives are here. Le Blanc and Lamdreau of D Company, each got twenty-eight days detention today. Mulvaney got fourteen days CB Olcen of A Company is on police now, he is quite a formidable character and very reliable, we need more like him. Leitch used to be a carpenter (and his father before him), he has bought six pounds worth of tools and made himself a tool chest and is now making a work bench in his spare time. He should be on the Pioneer staff drawing trades pay, he is wasting his time on the police. We do not get any extra pay. I found out that Roy Kirk on the police is a nephew of old Sam Kirk (Long Division) and Johnny Kirk, who married Jean Davidson. Chapman, the wireless operator of HQ, used to be a station agent and loves to talk about all the people and the places he has known.

March 9: Last night when CSM Howie of the K.S.L.I., who works at the IC, was going home from the sergeants' mess, he had reached the bridge when he was set upon by two thugs who severely mauled him. George Coutts was the nearest sentry and effected the rescue in the nick of time. A very heavy rain fell early this morning. While on patrol of MQ, I found five stray cows eating flower beds and being cursed by angry grass widows. Managed to get four near the pound, the fifth galloped up to the hospital. I walked back to the Guard House for the key to the pound, so Robideau came out on the bike and together we made quite a haul, ran in four cows, thirteen goats and twenty kids. Robideaux wanted to borrow a milk pail from one of the ladies in the MQ, and milk one of the cows in the pound, if I would hold the cow by the horns. I declined the honor, and he quoted the Capt. QM, "Scrounge, scrounge, scrounge!" I restrained him with difficulty.

We hear that $1000.00 owing the rank and file on our daily rations, had been held in abeyance, and now must be used up before the fiscal year ended. So this accounts for the sudden and mysterious improvement in our meals, such as pie twice a week, the mustard and pickles, the odd bun, cake or apple.

I ordered some more snaps from Cecil Fines, three shillings worth. Tonight Bill Jeffrey is playing the violin, he plays very well. His brother Doug used to sing on the radio. The odd time he will get out his guitar and sing to us:

There's a horseshoe nailed above the door

It's a shoe that my old pony wore,

You ask me why these teardrops fall,

It's that saddle in the empty stall

Empty saddles in the old corral,

Where do you roam tonight?

Are there rustlers on the border, or a band of Navaho Are you headed for the Alamo?

Doug could whip the top off a can of condensed milk in about two seconds with a small pen knife, which he kept as sharp as a razor, when we came off our shift at midnight and went to the cook house for a light lunch and a cup of hot tea.

I got two letters today, so Jack and Freda have a daughter, great news, I hope all are doing well. Now, I hope they have a son next time. A movie in camp, showing the launching of the Queen Elizabeth liner. The feature picture was "Music In My Heart", some fine singing.

March 10: I was on patrol in the MQ, which is often a miserable job as the mules which are the property of the R.E.'s, often break out of their paddock and head for this area to feast on the flower beds. Nothing is harder to round up than a bunch of ornery mules.

I paused by a playground, and a bevy of little girls gathered to talk to me. They all bemoaned the fact that their daddies had to go away (we know they went to Curacao) and they wanted to know if I had any little girls! I was sorry to disappoint them. The subject matter soon changed, one little girl said someone had given her a Bible and she had found a naughty word in it. When pressed, she confessed it said, "bloody sacrifice". Another said if she found that in her Bible, she'd "tear the page right out". Another prattler informed me her mother was going to the hospital soon, so that she could have a baby brother. Still another, feeling she had to contribute something brilliant to the conversation, started to repeat something of a gossipy nature about her neighbours! So I left in a hurry, it was getting too embarassing. It's enough to hear vague rumours of human weakness and folly, without having it confirmed from the guileless lips of innocents.

All ranks here have been confined to barracks for the past week owing to labor problems, and a security patrol kept on the alert day and night, fully dressed in case of riots. However, the CB is lifted now, so perhaps the emergency is over.

Replacements have arrived to take the place of the twenty odd men who had to be sent home as physically unfit for duty after eight months of this climate. One of our companies was away for two weeks at a new training camp called Montpelier. Here, our men engaged in 1914 field maneuvers, crawling on their stomachs over ant hills and cactus, and fighting fleas, ticks and mosquitoes. It was ten degrees hotter than here and the defaulters did penance by preforming fatigues by day, and then from eight to ten taking a pail of whitewash and a lantern and whitewashing the innumerable stones that line the paths and roads .. . before I got a chance to mail this, the bugler Wilf Ball blew the mail call and I received six letters . . .

Did you hear the one about the teacher who read the line, "Oh, to be in England ..." and asked her class who wrote it? One boy said, "Hitler".

We were paid our eight shillings and five pence this forenoon, treated our iron beds with coal oil for bed bugs. I wrote some letters. Tonight a number of fights were promoted and bouts run off in camp. Almost all were well matched and closely contested. Peterson beat Mathews. There was a great scrap between Stevie Thompson and McPherson, it was a grudge fight, they tried to kill each other, really mixed it up, the latter got the decision. Tugby was awarded the decision over Jim Furey, but it was a very close, brutal fight. Sgt Leo Berard beat Letz, two big heavyweights slugged it out, Hawes and Carl Jonnsen, the former was awarded the decision. Carl fought a lot when he worked in the mines, all his upper front teeth are missing. M.H. is a scientific boxer. Gunn and Neufield provided the comic relief, they had imbibed not wisely, but too well. Windsor and Henderson fought a hard fight. The former being heavier, a harder hitter and more experienced, but Henderson is very fast, great footwork, Windsor could not corner him and simply could not knock him out, or even knock him down. CSM Adams went in the ring with Moore of D Company. The CSM is a vet of WWI He is a game sport, did well in the first round, but could not keep up the pace.

The exhibition bout at the close was a great disappointment simply because neither men were in shape to fight. Both Speed and Bert have fought professionally in their day and at one time were very good, but even a pro has got to keep in shape. A drunken sailor off an oil tanker wandered into our camp and he claims twenty-four of our men have boarded ship and are going to Bermuda. I have my doubts.

March 11: Five men were absent from bed check at nine, and finally came in late. Everett is in a cell waiting to do his 120 hour detention. I slept the forenoon away in the reading room, after a long night on duty. Some U.S. Marines were in here today from their base about thirty miles away. Their southern drawl is very pleasant to the ear, their natty, well fitting uniforms are quite a contrast to ours. Kingston is the widest open city they have ever seen, more liquor and more wild women than they ever thought possible. They deplore the fact that the blacks here do not show any respect for white men, compared to the ones in the U.S.

Tonight poor old Bill Harkness went out of the camp although he was under arrest. He was picked up at Crossroads, brought back and lodged in a cell. He has told me and the whole garrison a thousand times, that the Captain QM was a subordinate of his when they worked for the Free Press, and now the captain will not even speak to him!

March 12: On night duty, slept till one, then got up to watch a grudge fight between Whitman and Jeffry. It was not a thrilling fight to watch as both men were slow, out of condition, and at the end of five rounds both were winded and exhausted. Jeffrey got the decision.

Tonight the show in camp was "Anne of Windy Poplars", from the book by L. M. Montgomery. Fine acting, I enjoyed it very much. They say Cardinal and Doyle broke out of the hospital. Blaikie had an epileptic fit at the hospital and Lapointe and Chapman had a hard time subduing him. Cardinal and Doyle caught returning to hospital in their "blues" and lodged in a cell.

March 13: Night duty, slept till noon, tents are up again, this time for a coloured branch of the Army Service Corps, who are supposed to leave for England. It is a standing joke in our hut. "If you want to get to England, join the coloured A.S.C. (Army Service Corp.)". Many nonsensical plots are hatched and discussed, but all have fatal flaws. Your colour, you can dye yourself black; identification, oh, you steal that; you have to dispose of the person whose identification you stole; that's easy, persuade him to join the Grenadiers!

March 14: Last night a guard was caught sleeping twice at the hospital. Pay day. At two, the GMP had rifle and hut inspection by the Colonel I didn't get much sleep today. L.C. Poole hit a native woman, while driving an army truck, and she is dying. I got three letters today.

March 15: Last night Cardinal was brought in, lodged in a cell, and later, B.O. the latter put up a terrific struggle, tried to beat up L. C. Johnston, but instead hit W. J. Smith in the eye, after being locked up he raved and cursed for hours. Today the sleeping guard was tried and got off with a reprimand. More mail today. Dick Wilson's mother sent him a copy of "Mayfair Magazine", which contained an article on the Grenadiers in Jamaica and was illustrated with actual photos, it was a Feb issue number.

March 16: The sergeants had a dance last night and an uproarious time. Some privates were hanging around the back of the sergeants mess and inveigling the sergeants girlfriends into the outer darkness, and the sergeants became furious and charged out and ordered them in again and one refused to return, and asked Fleming, an MP supposed to be on duty at the main gate, to see her home. She got outside the garrison and then insisted that he find Hanel for her. Hallet was a batman for the Brigadier who belonged to the K.S.L.I. He got along famously with the "old Brig" who doted on him, and called him "son". Alas for relations with the rest of our outfit, a deadly feud gradually built up between the old Brig and our Colonel.

When the Sgt's girlfriend insisted that Fleming find Hallet, Fleming started out for Command Headquarters where Hallet should be, and there he found another woman demanding an audience with the Brig.'s bat-man. This was a little too much for Fleming who after all, was supposed to be on guard at the main gate. He heard shouts and yells from the post he had left and hurried back too late to stop a bicycle which shot through the gate. This vehicle was used by a native delivery firm to take vegetables to the kitchen or the sergeants' mess. It was a standard bike with a third wheel and had a light wooden box, perhaps three feet square built in between the two rear wheels. On this occasion, the box was half full of potatoes. Two of our men had commandeered this bike, one was pedalling madly, the other one in the box was pelting the coloured owner as he pursued yelling at the top of his voice. When Fleming joined in the chase, he too, was pelted with potatoes. He had almost caught up with them, when the vehicle upset, and the pair who had swiped it, raced off in the dark. Fleming righted it and slowly pushed it back into the garrison, ignoring the screams of the owner who was trying to gather up potatoes scattered on the road. Two sergeants with their girlfriends had just come out of the sergeants mess and all four were a "wee bit tapsle teerie oh". One Sgt ordered Fleming to bring the three-wheeled vehicle over to the sergeants' mess, and the Sgt scooped the women up and put them in the box that had lately held potatoes, and Sgt Johnny Long pedalled it madly toward the main gate with the two women laughing and screaming in excitement. I swung the main gate open, but just as they reached it, the box gave way and the machine halted abruptly, and amidst shrill cries and the sound of splintering wood, the women tumbled out. The sergeants extricated them from the wreckage but there were sounds of the rending of feminine finery, and some most unladylike curses. So the two females and the two sergeants lurched off into the night supporting each other as they staggered uncertainly down the road. I woke the cooks at three o'clock this morning, as D Company is leaving early for Montpelier.

Maybury is making out a report on the damaged three-wheel bike, and the owner is still here almost hysterical in his rage, demanding that he be allowed to talk to our Colonel All the GMP who were near the gate are being grilled over and over again, but the Provost is not interested in the part the sergeants played, he wants to pin everything on some privates and throw the book at them.

I slept the forenoon away, have a very sore throat. Tonight I was a guard at the show in camp here, "Cross Country Romance", fantastic plot, but light and amusing.

March 17:When I went to the battalion orderly room to hoist the flag, I saw that an effigy had been tied to the rope and raised to the top of the pole, I lowered it and disposed of it. It had the name of our RSM on it. I do not see any sense or reason or humor in this.

I start the new weeks shift today, at three to eleven. A big dance tonight at the NAAFI for all ranks. Guy White is on the carpet again before the CO for being unfit for duty.

March 18: A lot of trouble last night. Poole went haywire, so did the Irish Blacksmith. Today Poole, the hit-and-run driver, Harkness and Stinson were each given 28 days detention. Guy White was stripped of his two stripes.

March 19: There are five prisoners in the Guard House now, as the detention barracks IS full. The native RE.'s on the site of the new huts are digging a deep trench and laying down a line of large earthenware tiles for sewage disposal. They use cement around the joints and they pile hay over the joints to make sure it doesn't dry too fast. Altogether, three, bikes used by the orderly officer and the orderly sergeant have disappeared, stolen by natives. The frame of one was found downtown, stripped of everything.

March 20: Windsor is going back to duty. I got a parcel from the Huston Ladies Aid. Several names in among the cakes, cookies, and bars. Mrs. John Dodds and Katy Elliott. Some excellent eating, I must acknowledge it.

March 21: A very sad thing happened, two of our best men were up before the Colonel because they failed to get a moron into the Guard House, either one could easily have got the thug in by clubbing him, but we have been warned a thousand times we must not injure our own men (it doesn't matter if they injure us!). It was a bitter blow to the force to lose a good Lance Corporal just over a drunken thug. When the Lance Cpl left, I moved into his corner. The corners are the choice locations in every hut. I scrubbed out the locker and the drawer. Two of the prisoners from the Guard House were escorted over to scrub out our hut. It would have been much easier to scrub it out ourselves. Anyone getting over a spree is practically useless as far as work is concerned. If they ever finish scrubbing, they are to spade the garden around our hut.

Inspection of all GMP by the Colonel at two. Sarginson went on inspection wearing deck shoes (a no-no) as one pair of his regular boots was in the shoemakers and the other had been stolen. The Colonel ordered him to go to QMS. and draw another pair of boots, cost deducted from his pay, one pound. The boys were kidding Sarginson unmercifully. He was always putting off the evil day of reckoning, always thought he would get by with one pair of shoes.

Tonight a concert in the NAAFI, part of it was outside talent, the Gilmore Bros. trapeze artists. The rest was movies taken by Captain Gresham of us leaving Winnipeg. When some of the men saw their wives and sweethearts on the screen, they nearly wept.

March 22: I took my bayonet over to the armorers shop as Joe Kitkoski said he could blue the metal parts of the handle for a shilling.

This morning, the band played the New Guard over to the IC and played the old guard back, it sounded fine and looked well. Yesterday the band was marching, playing and practising and B.'s burro (the Adjutant's pet given to him by a lady) kept running in front of the drum major, and in circles around him, and the Colonel got mad and said if the brute came in the garrison again he would shoot it.

The sergeants had a dance in their mess tonight but it was a flop. Very few ladies came in the main gate, and there was a distinct absence of the usual shouting, singing and carousing.

Today, Harkness, Stinson and Poole, were taken down to the detention barracks and Maddox, the Staff-Sgt on duty, asked if they had done much drill? They said no. "Well," the Staff said, "You'll get lots of it here"

March 23: National Day of Prayer throughout the Empire. Church parade with band concert after. Chapman went to church!

March 24: Coming off duty at eleven last night, I went on at seven this morning for a week of seven to three at the Cotton Tree gate. At 3:30, Stodgell and Roy Kirk had a grudge fight in the outside boxing ring. After six rounds, Tugby called it a no decision bout, but Kirk was ahead in points. St. Stodgell had a round house delivery. Kirk had a far longer reach.

March 25: The days are getting hotter now. I cannot get a tan, I simply burn and peel, over and over again. The back of my knees are the worst, wearing shorts. George Stevenson (a distant relative of George Stevenson's) got a telegram from an old flame of his back in Winnipeg. She is suing him for breach of promise, wants to collect $600.00 off him (she knew he had that much in the bank). They were engaged at one time, but it was broken off, and he got the ring back, had a jeweller turn it into a brooch for his mother. George was working in the Post Office getting $120.00 a month. It is very plain now, the girl was only after his money.

Tonight Kirk has on the gloves and is sparring with all and sundry in turn, as he is to fight Cpl Middleton tomorrow night. Now a runner has brought the news the Cpl has volunteered on IC guard, so he won't be here when the bout is run off.

March 26: Last night Morris broke out of the hospital and went downtown, a truck went down and brought him back. Tonight the show in camp was "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington". I saw it in Winnipeg but liked it so well, I went again. George Stevenson went to the Colonel about the breach of promise suit, he was told to sue the girl for the same amount.

Three prisoners in the Guard House today. Cardinal who was given five days detention for breaking out of hospital and two Imperials. The latter two had a job guarding an American plane. Everyone who had preceeded them as guards, had helped themselves to the cigarettes in the cabin, but the loss was not discovered till their shift. They had taken some, but were not responsible for the entire loss, but were charged with it. Both got 28 days detention.

There were a number of boxing bouts tonight, most very good. Kirk beat L. C. Cowie, Clubb beat Sellars, Henderson beat J. Furey, McPherson beat R. Stodgell. Blue beat Younger on points, very close. McNeil beat Booth, it was the most scientific of all the bouts, nice to watch, no ill feelings. Cpl Vickers beat Cpl Ferguson, a regular slugging match, about as brutal as could be imagined. No love lost there. The Colonel made a speech about Montpelier. It is ten degrees hotter there and dark at six pm A bitter, unseemly argument broke out between Lieutenant Harper and Symes and Adams and Bert Carrier. Finally, Adams announced another bout between Harper and Silver, the latter is a black native who is a newspaper reporter. It was a disgusting exhibition, the black was pretty badly beaten, and had a very bloody nose and mouth. The Colonel had the fight stopped after only two rounds. There could easily have been a riot there as a large number of natives had climbed over the twelve foot fence and were screaming like animals. It was a touchy situation.

March 28: Hot and windy. Tonight Eric, George Coutts, and I went over to the Maple Leaf Club. Played checkers and ping pong. Told Eric we would have to put a blind bridle on him if he didn't stop ogling the waitresses. He wanted to stay late and took a vice-like grip on his chair, so we picked up the chair with Eric on it, and carried it outside and started back to camp. There was a flurry of excitement and a two hundred pound matron came charging after us. Eric caught one glimpse of her over his shoulder and he was back in camp before George and I.

March 29: Pay parade this forenoon. Went downtown at 3:30 with George Stevenson and did a little shopping. Everything is cheaper downtown than in the garrison, except bananas, oranges, and coconuts. D Company, came back from Montpelier this evening, very disappointed, nothing but 1914 maneuvers, crawling on their bellies over ant hills and cactus and lying out on the plains camouflaging.

Tonight a truckload of MP's patrolled downtown, were policing the town, picked up Kalinoski, Morris, Ross, and Coleman, out of bounds. Lieutenant Harper is throwing a party, a farewell, as he is being boarded for asthma.

March 30: B Company is leaving for Montpelier this morning. Our replacements from Canada are expected, some twenty odd men. They arrived just before dinner. Easily distinguished by their white arms and legs. It was cold (they said) when they left Canada, they were wearing their winter underwear. Cpl Murray said it broke old Sgt Wiley's heart when he was left behind. He was a vet of WWI and could not pass the physical.

I got six boat mail letters, very glad to get them. Jack and Freda have named their baby girl Donna Mae.

Show tonight in the camp, a couple of good British news reels on the war, and a very mediocre mystery picture called "The Saint Goes to Palm Springs".

March 31: I had a haircut, Little Thomas (Popeye) had been in a fight, had one of the blackest, black eyes I ever saw. He is one of our barbers, he said the party at the White House turned into one of the worst brawls it had been his privilege to attend. However, he claimed there were others with two black eyes (if that's any consolation).

I got some coal oil from the Pioneer Staff and doused my iron bed, put some biscuits out in the sun to bake, took my bar or net to the laundry and dusted my locker for ants and roaches with Keatings powder. The RSM is horrified at our replacements, made some bitter sarcastic remarks. I wrote a bunch of letters today. I was talking to a from Curacao, he says there were attempts at sabotage down there. Four men were fired upon by the guards in one night, and a pipeline from one of the big tanks running down into the sea was discovered. It may have been used to fuel up U-boats. The fumes from the huge oil tanks are like chloroform in the terrible heat down there and will drug the guards if they are not relieved by fresh ones regularly. The K.S.L.I. are a thousand strong now and are afraid they may be left there for the duration.

I start my week of night shift eleven to seven tonight on the South Side. While on patrol, I met Sgt Neal and he told me all his family troubles in Fort Francis. He had served at Gallipoli in WWI, had a bayonet he had taken from a Turkish officer that had silver fittings and a rosewood handle. Big Red Atkins, quite bibulous at the gate, and Moore B.C. lost and helpless on the hockey field, could not find the garrison, he had a compass, and was looking for the North Star, but thought perhaps we were too far south to see it!

April 1: I was sleeping in the reading room after being on duty all night, when Marcel Ernest Joseph Robideaux woke me and said I was ordered to report to the Guard House at once. My sleep-fogged brain failed to grasp the fact that this was April 1st and my suspicions, like myself, were asleep. I hurried to the main gate and got the horse laugh. So I met Marcel Ernest Joseph Robideaux (his full Christian name) and got a good stranglehold on his neck for a few minutes and left him choking and wheezing and gasping out French profanity I had just gotten back to sleep when Sgt Joe Hopper woke me and said the CSM wanted me, I said, "let him come right here if he wants to see me!" He went off guffawing.

Back at the hut at two and heard Marcel Robideaux was called up as a witness before the Colonel against Nixon(on the old charge), the latter got ten days detention, Marcel got five days CB because he had not shaved, and his boots were not shined! And yet he was only a witness in the case!

There are a grand total of thirty-one defaulters now, some of them the new replacements. Happy Waite has a regular book for a Crime sheet, his favorite exclamation in any crisis is "Watson, the needle". The local paper, the "Jamaica Gleaner", is full of the big naval engagement, greatest since Jutland, seven Italian ships sunk, and on land Yugoslavia standing firm.

I gave an old K.D. shirt to Cpl Fisher and he traded it into stores for a new one made by the Elmira Shirt and Overall Co., dated 1940. George Stevenson got a wire from home, he won, the girl will have to pay him $600.00 and the costs of the case. I got four letters this evening, all mentioned the blizzard. I am glad that all are safe. One letter was from Melvin Brandon, he is in the R.C.A.F. at McDonald, 15 miles from Portage. He sent his photo. I will answer him.

April 2: A quiet night, I slept the forenoon away. Tonight, the show Was one of Bing Crosby's "Rainbow on the River". The news reel showed action in Africa, with the Australians storming Italian strongholds through dust and smoke.

April 3: During the night, a number of calls came in, but though several trucks went out, the cause of the trouble could not be located till Lamareaux was caught. He was held in a cell overnight and this morning, charged with being out of bounds and using threatening language. He only got seven days CB and lost a months passes.

The camp was agog over the news in the Gleaner that Guy Stewart and Stevie Thompson had won prizes in the Sweepstakes. Guy's picture was on the front page. Now it appears it was two J.I.V. of the same names who had won, instead of our men. Three of our men sailed for Canada today, all said to be medically unfit for duty.

April 4: Hardisty, Kirk and I were called as witnesses against a Cpl charged with being out of bounds and breaking arrest and remanded to the Colonel who gave him a severe reprimand.

Stevie Thompson, who thought he had won a sweepstake, has a girlfriend down here who went into raptures when she heard of his supposed good fortune. She wanted to get married right away. She will suffer a cruel disillusionment. Fleming absent from duty.

We got a call from Ordnance downtown. Wanted, an escort: L.C. Harvey, Hardisty and I went down in a truck and picked up an R.A.F. man, Ordnance laid the charges, striking an NCO, creating a disturbance after lights out, etc. We brought him back and lodged him in a cell overnight.

April 5: The camp is too full of rumours too wild to be reported or repeated.

April 6: Last night one of our men was brought in crazed with marijuana, wearing only a pair of trousers, nothing else, and carrying a naked bayonet, he was lodged in a cell. Dooley was picked up downtown, creating a disturbance, locked up.

I was talking to Sgt Milne (of the Ordnance Corps) at the Cotton Tree gate. He had been drinking at the Glass Bucket, and was sobering up after a two day spree, he had just had a "Bombay Oyster", ten raw eggs served with Lea and Perrin sauce, before he left Crossroads. While we spoke together, the milkman came along, and the sergeant stopped it imperiously and bought a quart for four pence, and between us we drained it. Sammy Burden always maintains that the true recipe for a "Bombay Oyster" is two eggs (raw) in a half glass of vinegar, that was a standard cure in India.

Chapman and Kirk had quite a run-in with Sgt Crewe of the Scots regiment stationed in Aruba, luckily no physical injuries occurred on either side. Sgt Crewe is taking Hankin's place in the DB Today, there are a bunch of Canadian sailors in from their ship lying in the harbour. Some are from Winnipeg and know, some of our men. The U.S. Marines from Portland Bight played our baseball team and beat them 13-8. There is no doubt the Marines had some professionals, they had a really good pitcher and some heavy hitters.

April 7: I came off duty this morning at seven, was awakened at ten for our 8 and 5 pay (duty). Then started my new week's shift of 3-11, after dinner. A call from the hospital, the Corporal of the guard wanted a truck to take away one of the guards who was unfit for duty. He was brought back and lodged in a cell. A sergeant of the J.I.V.'s rode in the main gate to report one of our men unconscious on the road to the Crossroads. It was one of our buglers. He was brought in and lodged in a cell.

April 8: I tried to change my deck shoes at QMS., but they were out of size 8, 9 and 10. I tried to change my field service forage cap, but failed, so sent it to the laundry. They charged six pence but it came back a little cleaner anyway. I did manage to get a pair of shorts changed. The boys are overworking the native tailor, Hankins, who can make K.D. slacks that really fit for 12 shillings.

The natives are still talking about the slight earthquake shock we felt on Monday. I could distinctly feel the ground tremble under my feet. The people talk about the terrible quake in 1917 when a lot of damage was done.

I was talking to McNeil, who says the girl he was engaged to back at Arborg is married to an air force pilot. She was afraid to tell him, he found out from others, then asked her about it. She replied saying the air force fellow reminded her so much of McNeil, she couldn't resist him! She also added she was afraid he would never come back from Jamaica and that since their religions differed, she doubted they would be happy anyway. Here I asked McNeil if he would have changed religions for her, and he said willingly and gladly, but she never gave him the chance. He is R.C. and she is Presbyterian. He says he wishes now he had married her and never joined the army!

McFarlane is another case, he did marry his girlfriend before leaving, but they have become estranged since. She hasn't written him in months. There will be plenty of ruined lives and homes before this war is over.

April 9: One of the buglers and one of the hospital guards are up before the Colonel this morning, the former fined $5.00, the latter $6.00 and seven days CB

This afternoon I got twelve letters, all boat mail. There is an endless clash of personalities. A sergeant is downtown and phones for a truck to bring him back to camp. The driver just happens to be one of the transport who hates him. When they reach camp after a chilly, silent ride, the driver says he will write in his report, the trip was not duty or business, but merely idle pleasure, and he'd like to see Captain Blackford's face when he hands in this report. Quite a chewing match ensued.

When Kirk makes his rounds to check on MP's on patrol, he can never find Fleming. Very strange!

April 10: I wrote a number of letters. C Company, men each got a pair of sox. Joe Falcon's had a note in the toe, gave an address and said "Please write". The boxing was cancelled tonight. There are enough bare fist grudge fights.

Leitch was telling me his father was a carpenter before him, and for some time worked with Thomas Edison. He got so interested in telling me about all the houses he had designed and built, that he completely forgot his duties, and was twenty minutes late in locking the NAAFI wicket gate. Capt. Tarbuth's girlfriend came here from Canada, three weeks ago and they are to be married shortly.

Nixon came out of detention today but Kirk saw him and Lamareaux break through the fence in civilian clothes and when the orderly sergeant and two MP's made a bed check, they were absent.

April 11: We had large, flat, and heavy hot cross buns (with no cross on them) for breakfast. One per man. Tonight over at the Maple Leaf Club, Clendenning was leaving after working an hour overtime when Capt. Yetman ordered him to water the flower garden; he refused and the Capt. reported him to the RSM

April 12: Clendenning in a cell with a charge of insubordination against him. Fleming, who has been in the Guard House for being AWOL, for three days and some hours, was up before the Colonel this morning, he got ten days detention and a fine of three days pay. We were paid at 1:30. At supper Hallett was very insolent with Lieutenant Symes, so was taken to the Guard House. A call came from the Queensbury Bar, a truck went out and brought in Willis of C Company, locked up. There is a dance at the Maple Leaf Club, but being on duty I will miss it. Having kept sober through Lent, Lapointe really went on a tear tonight. We could hear him yelling from afar off. His grandfather had been with Louis Riel and told him all about the Nor-West Rebellion, and Lapointe likes to live it all over again, except in his version Riel always wins.

The boys had to put him in the cold shower to sober him up, so he could go on duty. I don't suppose Riel ever took a cold shower.

This afternoon an NCO of the R.E.'s laid a charge or complaint against a stray jackass that was bothering their jennies, where the new construction is going on, on the other side of the IC They had caught the brute and tied it to a tree. So I rode out there on the bike, brought it back at a fast trot and locked it in the pound. When it realized where it was, it made a savage lunge and tried to bite me, but I dodged just in time. Neither man nor beast shows any gratitude to the GMP and we are only doing our job, and tough job it is.

April 13: (Easter Sunday) This morning (as per orders), Chapman and I dressed in our tunics and slacks and fell in on the square with the church parade, and marched behind the band to the church, it was full for once, quite a number of the coloured J.I.V. there. They had part of their fife and drum band there. We listened to the half hour of band music afterwards.

J. P. Watson was run into the Guard Houses on a charge of being AWOL since his whereabouts was a mystery since ten last night. Though he claims he was in the garrison he was not in his bed. Dooley is missing. Sometimes we wish he would never come back. He is nothing but a headache.

April 14: My day off, I went to Hope Gardens, a very beautiful and interesting place. Came back to Crossroads in time for the 4:30 show at the Carib. It was "Waterloo Bridge", with Vivian Leigh. The acting was fine, but the story was sad and the end was tragic.

Back to Up Camp, went to camp movie at 7:30, "His Girl Friday", a crazy thing. Heard that Dooley and Harkness had been brought in and lodged in cells.

April 15: I started my week of 7-3 shifts at the Cotton Tree gate. No one relieved me for dinner, I stood at the gate from 7-3. Luckily a cart of green water coconuts passed, I bought one for a penny and a good drink, the driver assured me it was a good tonic, especially for the kidneys! Then a fruit vendor came along and I got a penny's worth of bananas and the same of oranges and one star apple.

April 16: Kirk tried to wake Smithson for duty, but all to no avail. Clendenning got ten days detention for talking back to Capt. Yetman, that was a little much. The Captain has not endeared himself to the rank and file. Dooley got 13 days detention and a fine. Willis and Watson got CB; Mitchell and Stone were brought in and locked up. I wrote some letters today and posted them with a few postcards. A parcel arrived from Jim and Marion McKenzie. It contained a very good cake. The show tonight was "Life with Henry", with Jackie Cooper. It was funny.

The labor trouble has not materialized after all. The few Shropshires that were left here in clerical and administrative positions say we have put on too much of a show of force. We have only succeeded in driving the fifth Columnist movement underground. We should have waited till it deliberately surfaced, and came to a head, but who knows for sure.

April 17: I was on Cotton Tree gate 10-3. Mitchell fined $15.00, Stone $10.00, Chapman unfit for duty.

April 18: I warned Holden and Bratchel against going out improperly dressed but they went out anyway. The band is away to a concert at King's House. Fifteen of the natives (skilled) in the R.A.S.C. have been warned they may leave for England in a week. I wrote letters tonight.

April 19: Pretty quiet at the Cotton Tree gate, till Mrs. Captain Crawford and Mrs. Captain Norris went past and I answered their friendly wave with a salute as has always been my wont, and to my great surprise they stopped the car, Mrs. Crawford stepped out, walked across and handed me a real Canadian apple, fresh from the Frigidaire. I thanked her, and can't help but think what prompted her to think of offering an apple to an unknown private. It was a kindly, thoughtful act anyway, and I'll always remember her.

When I came off duty at three, George Stevenson and I went down to the museum. Part of it full of antiques was closed, and all we saw was some queer birds, animals and reptiles. The library was interesting and I wish I had time to see more of it and do some reading.

We went to the New Yorker Cafe for supper, and the street peddlers (who are a curse) followed us in and tried to sell us razor blades, sox and songs. We got a ride back to camp in an Army truck that was cruising around town.

April 20: When I came off duty at three I went downtown with George, we talked to a lady who runs a cafe called the Carib (after the theatre), she has been here four years, came from Panama, speaks good English, is trying to get her husband to teach her the Chinese language. George and I met Dave Palmer and we took the bus for Hope Gardens to listen to the band concert. The band is composed of natives dressed in the colourful garb of the old original, walking out ceremonial parade dress uniform of the old British West Indies Regiment. Full baggy pants or pantaloons, blue with a yellow stripe down the side, white spats, a green and gold waistcoat, white shirt, a white turban, with a large gold tassel hanging down. The conductor was an Englishman in whites. The music was fine. We got back in time to see the show in camp, a funny comic with Charlie Chase and a heavy drama "Hidden Power" with Holt.

April 21: I was up against Holden as a witness, who was proven guilty on three counts by Major Hook and awarded seven days CB and no passes for a month. Smithson was up before the Colonel and got a severe reprimand for being absent from duty. The Brigadier is inspecting the IC guard for the first time over at the IC, so a specially good extra guard was fixed up for him, to inspect. It's a wonder he didn't suspect. Ernie Whitfield has been in hospital for a couple of weeks. He was playing badminton at the Maple Leaf Club and he was looking at some very pretty white girls and the birdie hit him in the eye he was winking at the girls. This struck the girls as a funny thing, so funny indeed that they laughed long and loud. This cut Ernie to the quick as he is a very sensitive person.

This was no joke. Ernie lost the sight in his injured eye for two days. He went down to the specialist downtown then back to the hospital. Tonight I started my week of night shifts 11-7 as hospital guard with Smithson.

April 22: A quiet night, slept all forenoon. Got five letters this afternoon.

April 23: After a long night, I thought I surely could sleep till noon. I was wakened at ten, ordered to dress and go up to the orderly room as a witness. After I arrived, I was told the accused booked for trial was still in hospital. He was Stone of D Company. Had died at 11:30 last night. He had been slated for an operation for tonsils. His heart is supposed to have failed under anesthetic. His funeral was held at four this afternoon. He was 26 years old. Hallett laid a charge against Lance Corporal Lovell for calling him a &*#!@! So the Lance Corporal got a severe reprimand. But he has a lot of powerful friends who will not forget this. Tonight the show in camp was "No, No Nannette". It was very light and amusing, some clever acting with Anna Neagle and ZaZu Pitts. Slept away the forenoon, missed breakfast and dinner, at least I'm staying slim.

April 24: According to the afternoon bulletin, the British are still holding Thermopylae. In the little group around the bulletin board, Thammassin was heard to exclaim, "And I thought it was the Spartans who held Thermopylae." Archie Rutherford, the only classical scholar in the rank and file declaimed,

Truth loving Persians do not dwell upon

The trivial skirmish fought near Marathon!

"What's he talking about?" whispered Thomasson in my ear. Major Trist bet Fryatt ten pounds that A Company could beat B Company at baseball. They lost 3-2. Workmen are tearing down the outdoor boxing ring or square. Captain Yetman is determined to move it over to the Maple Leaf Club which does not make any sense. If the rank and file are determined to have grudge fights, the place for them is the garrison, not over where the general public can be spectators. The Pioneer Staff have no use for Yetman, he has a most unpleasant dictatorial nature.

Gordon Walker has been in the hospital for five weeks with stomach ulcers. Lance Corporal Bruce is going home on the next boat on account of duodenal ulcers. Wilf Ball of Napinka is going on account of arthritis; Gordon Walker, Bruce and Watson, stomach trouble, etc.

April 25: A quiet night. The mangoes are ripening on every mango tree in the garrison. Clendenning on south side patrol located an extra tree (good one) and picked a bag of choice fruit off it, and asked Geekie to guard it in the Guard House, but Chapman somehow got hold of them and ate them all, and filled up the bag again with small green ones off the tree at the main gate. Last night, Varcoe tells me our Provost came in unfit for duty, had to be put to bed. We hear Varcoe's wife is coming down here to visit him. During the night while Smithson and I stood guard at the hospital we could hear the natives singing, sounded like an old time revival. I slept this forenoon, missed breakfast and dinner.

April 26: I am thirty-one years of age today. Last night while on hospital guard, Jack Anderson of the R.A.M.C. was brought in bleeding from a dozen stab wounds. He had been downtown. His clothes were sopping wet with blood. Doctor gave him a shot of morphine to quiet him down, and the orderly patched him up. This morning the guard on main gate is checking hard on R.E.'s for passes. L. G. Adams of A Company got tossed into the swimming pool by a mob today. I missed breakfast and slept through dinner. Got two parcels this afternoon. One from home and one from 387 Kennedy Street. C Company came back from Montpelier this morning. Eric Anderson was in for a long talk. C Company took a train. Eight men committed vandalism on the train, acting as if they were insane. Were tried, convicted, CB'd and had to pack drill on the double, etc. Sutcliffe was a stickler for cleanliness around Montpelier. Dooley is going to camp with A Company and do CB all the time he is there.

April 27: During the night Capt. Ward finally put in a call from the Myrtle Bank Hotel that some of our men were wrecking the joint. The police truck that went down picked up five A Company men in front of the New Yorker. They were in an ugly mood and went out with the avowed intention of creating ructions. One got in the grip of a private detective who worked for the hotel and had plenty of experience in Ju-Jitsu, naturally our man got the worst of it and went to the hospital. The other four were confined in the big north cell and they smashed their way out through a heavily shuttered ventilator window. The MP's pounced on each one as they squeezed through the shattered opening, and threw them into the small, reinforced cells, two in each.

The company commanders are hounding Speed Darroch about men coming in late, and threaten bed checks to see how the results tally, with the time that passes are checked in, so a lot of men are getting tripped up, coming in late and cajoling or arguing in vain with the GMP in charge of the guard room whose duty it is to scrutinize the pass and look at the clock.

April 28: Hard time staying awake during the night. I was nicely asleep this forenoon when I was wakened and told to appear as witness in a D Company case. I dressed and shaved and reported to the orderly room, but they couldn't find Major Hook. So the case was postponed. I went back to bed but was wakened at 2:30 as I start my new weeks shift of 3-11 today, as runner in the guard room. Geekie is in charge there now. At 4:25 I go as hospital guard to relieve Carl Jonssen so he can come down to supper, so I am always late for mine. Nobis is in a cell for lying down on his post at the IC. Chapman came in about four this morning, got into bed smoking and set fire to his sheets. About 6:30 late afternoon, about a dozen of our men considered physically unfit, left Up Park Camp to board a ship for Canada.

April 29: I was up as a witness against Bratchell this morning. He got seven days CB and lost a months passes. Chapman and Geekie as per orders, are not letting anyone out the main gate who does not wear a hat or a cap. Some argue endlessly when stopped. Montpelier may be closed down because men are getting dysentry there. Mail brought papers from home.

April 30: A very heavy rain falling this morning, almost think the clouds are touching the earth as they do up at Newcastle. All the drains are flooding along, full to the brim. The sick parade is marching back from hospital drenched to the hide. Three ships guards have gone out already this morning. Pay parade. Heavily overcast in the afternoon. Mason, one of the best baseball pitchers we have (when sober) was brought in and locked up, then Pascal incarcerated for being out of bounds.

May 1: I went downtown after dinner with Peter Gregg. Went to the Royal Bank and sent home seven pounds, ten shillings, to help pay my insurance premium.

The British are evacuating from Greece. The MP's caught three more stray dogs (which are a curse in the camp), put them in a large sack, loaded them in the back of a truck, drove along the coast, and threw the sack out, till the waves covered it entirely.

May 2: I washed my webbing using a scrubbing brush and blancoed it. Some native R.E.'s are tearing up some concrete, the Capt. QM is fussing and fuming and swearing at them. The band is practising over in the Court Martial room. They say old Staff Sgt MacNaughton of the Armorers, once belonged to the Dumbells. There are a couple of Germans from the IC in the hospital and one claims he had money and jewellery stolen off him. This is a delicate situation. Can we believe the German? Why couldn't he have had all his valuables put in the safe, the same as all the other patients? The MP's are actually ordered to pick up all stray dogs and make away with them, since there is a rabies scare on. Another canine went the way of all flesh and took a trip to the great beyond. Mason was fined $15.00, seeing it was his fourth offence, he got off easy.

My turn to sweep the hut this morning. Vic Geekie was visiting a Doctor Anderson in the suburbs, he brought me back a large mango which tasted exactly like a peach. It was delicious. This particular fruit was from the seedling of a Bombay mango. A shower tonight. Another dog went for it's last ride.

May 4: Chapman and I joined the church parade. I forgot my collection. Dinner was very plain, bologna and potatoes. Mail call blew in the middle of it. I got three letters, one from Jim who says he got a new set of harrows from Eaton's, and Mrs. Rink is going to sell out. The boys in this hut are playing poker just now. Lieutenant Anderson of C Company has been appointed messing officer. Rumours persist that the Capt. QM is going home, under a cloud. A great deal of money has been spent on rations. . . much more than should have been, and there is nothing to show for the sum expended.

This afternoon a call from downtown said our men were fighting with sailors. Speed Darragh took the truck down and found Big Red Aitkens had tangled with a sailor and suffered a bad cut under each eye. Nixon is in a cell for refusal to obey orders.

May 5: Starting a week of 7-3 shift. I am spare man for the first time, to fill in wherever needed. I was runner today. Mulvaney is in a cell unfit for duty. Carl Jonesson bought a sixpence worth of limes which are a miniature lemon orange, and scrounged some sugar at the sergeants' mess, and using ice water from the block of ice which comes each morning, made us a good drink.

Last night a bugler and Jimmie Young got into an argument and started scuffling on the way back from Crossroads. The bugler bit Young's finger and chewed his thumb badly and then sank his fangs into his leg and Young became so enraged he shoved the old bugler's face into the road so hard that it is a mass of purple bruises this morning.

Great Britain is fighting Iraq now. Major Trist's dog is missing, he blames the police, but he can't prove anything. After all, dead dogs tell no tales (can't even wag them). Cpl Carter in the mess hall was very officious today. I wrote letters home.

May 6: Molyneau was tried and given 3 days CB; Nixon remanded again. We collected three stray dogs and impounded them in a cell, and Lieutenant Phillips, who is garrison adjutant now, came in and berated us about the high-handed way we were impounding and disposing of dogs, and warned us to be more cautious in future. During the lecture, the dogs in the cell kept whining and the Lieutenant couldn't figure out where the noise was coming from Twice he rushed to the door and looked out and became more puzzled and exasperated. We had a hard time keeping a straight face. He never thought of looking in the cells.

The batmen at the officers' quarters begged us to impound the pet South American coon which is tethered outside the officers' quarters and smells bad and has a vile temper. One of the batmen was ordered to groom its' shaggy coat and got badly clawed.

Breakfast and dinner were so scanty, there was a lot of ill feeling among the men and as usual, the cooks bore the brunt of it. Rumour has it that Cpl Carter was so angry and disgusted that he went to the Colonel and threw his stripes in, and asked to go back to straight duty. I got five letters this afternoon. It seems like a cold, wet backwards spring at home. I wrote letters tonight.

May 7: A lot of men up on orders. Three full corporals who came with the last replacements have been stripped of their stripes. Holden, of D Company was awarded 144 hours detention; Nixon of D got three consecutive guards out at the IC; O'Connor was admonished for being out of bounds.

Tonight the show in the garrison was "Tom Brown's School Days", one of the best shows I've seen for a long time. Arnold, the Headmaster, was unforgettable character. The Rugby coach and four, and the old brick walls and arches and passages, the boys with their top hats, waist coats and long-tailed coats, were very quaint but very pleasant.

May 8: After I finished my 7-3 shift, George Stevenson. and I went down to the Salvation Army Institute for the Blind. We were talking to Adjutant Tucker who told us 75% of the births on the island were illegitimate; consumption, TB, appendicitis, VD and yaws carry off the largest number of natives. They have no stamina, when they have an illness they get better quick or they die suddenly, there are no lingering illnesses. There is too much starchy food consumed, the natives cannot be persuaded to eat green salads or vegetables. They showed us around the school, and what the blind worked at, and how they read by Braille, and a system for working arithmetic.

Goonga peas growing on a plant like a young tree, perennials.

Paw Paws on a tall tree, pineapple and sweet potatoes. The soil is a stony clay that bakes easily. I don't like the look of it, or the texture compared to our brown or black loam at home.

George and I were too late for supper at camp so we ate at the Maple Leaf Club, and tried to play a game of pool.

May 9: You will have read in the papers about the U.S.A. being granted a base on Little Goat Island, a very impressive ceremony when they raised the Stars and Stripes . . .

We were paid our 8 and 5. It looks as if Kirk and Penny's romance is broken up. Of course, an officer's daughter should not be associating with privates, as the Imperials say, down here.

Tonight a couple of idiots broke out of barracks and cut through the officers' landscaped grounds. When Major Clarke asked them where they were going, they were most insolent, so he blew his whistle and the MP's picked them up.

May 10: My day off. I went downtown and bought some good snapshots at McGregors, of the U.S. Marines raising the Stars and Stripes on their new base, Little Goat Island. Came back to Crossroads and bought some Absorbine for my feet, came into dinner, ate a Paw Paw Adjutant Tucker gave me. It tastes like a muskmelon with a dried apricot flavor. After dinner Pop Wharff, G. and I went to Barnet's bathing beach and swam in the Caribbean, there is a heavy steel netting around this stretch of beach to keep out the sharks. The salt water is certainly buoyant. A shower of rain fell as we walked back to the car line. Tonight some of us walked over to the Maple Leaf Club to watch the dance in which we did not participate. Eric Anderson treated me to a piece of cherry pie and a glass of milk which I enjoyed very much. When the large and robust matron spotted us she came over and asked Eric what he thought of the Club. He drew a long breath and said he liked it so well that as soon as the war was over, he was coming back to buy the whole establishment! She gasped and said, "You cannot buy these charming waitresses!" His face fell. "But," she beamed, "I'll still be here!" "I was afraid of that," muttered Eric. We hustled him off before she recovered.

May 11: The runner 7-3 today. A Company back from Montpelier and B is going up to Newcastle. The show tonight was "Million Dollar Legs". A story of college and a rowing team. News reel was good. The British navy defeated the Italians.

May 12: I swept out the hut, cleaned my rifle, scrubbed my webbing, packed a small box containing my diaries since we left Winnipeg, some pictures and a few seeds, and mailed them home to Jim. Tonight Lapointe was telling me for the ninth time how his grandfather fought along with Louis Riel in the Nor-West Rebellion.

May 13: Being Swing man, I took Bob Grace's place in the guard room. Three ships guards search details went out before breakfast. The strange case of Hess deserting Hitler and giving himself up, in the paper today. I turned in an old worn out shirt and got a new one today. Made by Tooke Bros. Ltd. has the Army stamp on it, the broad arrow inside the C. I put my name and number H 6737 in it with indelible ink. This evening the Gilmore Bros. put on a concert at the they are Cubans, brownish in colour, three girls and a half dozen men, and a boy. They sang and danced and one of the troupe did some wonderful work on the trapeze, and some extraordinary contortions clothed in a skin tight suit that was covered in glistening scales of different hues, that gave him a reptilian appearance.

The NAAFI was crowded and men were standing outside the doors and windows, every number brought a great round of applause, whistles and cheers.

We hear Cpl Eccles was stripped today because he broke out of barracks, and then meeting the Adjutant at Bournemouth in civilian clothes, he failed to recognize him at first sight, and said something that offended the Captain. One of the three Agerbak's (from Pilot Mound) brought back a bull whip from Montpelier and have been amusing themselves all afternoon by cracking it, it sounds like a pistol shot.

There was a bed check last night by the orderly officer, and about fifty men had their names taken down because they didn't have their mosquito nets down and tucked in all around the edges of the bed.

The Battalion orderly room is getting air tight now. A runner delivered a message to an officer who did not have his wits about him and said it never reached him. The Colonel demanded an investigation and the runner is going to prove with evidence from a batman, that the message was delivered.

May 14: I was on duty in MQ and ordered to deliver a message to 15B (15A is occupied by a young vivacious Mrs. Locke, who giggles every time she sees me), 15 (plain) by Knox, that his dog had been a nuisance around the barracks, was now in pound, and would be destroyed if he did not claim it. He was a gruff character, and swore it was all the fault of the soldiers who encouraged it by feeding it, but grudgingly conceded he would claim it. When I suggested that any dog that liked army food must have a depraved appetite, he only snorted.

Pay parade at ten, I bought a crocodile leather belt from Harry Creedon who is making them here. It just cost eight shillings. A truck went out and brought in three of our transport drivers fighting on Harbour Street.

For supper, a miracle! We actually had tender well-cooked beef, and dessert was prunes and dried peaches.

May 15: A number of corporals have lost their stripes, five to be exact. This morning, the Guard House was full of prisoners. When I came off duty at three, George Stevenson and I took a boat to Port Royal. She was a motor launch, 75 hp., 50 feet long, 12 feet wide, weighed 17 tons, would carry 45 passengers and draw in as little as four feet of water. She travelled the three and a half miles to Port Royal in thirty minutes, could do it in twenty- three if she had to. Fuel tank on each side holds 45 gallons. Takes only two gallons to go over, her name is "The Arnold".

We wandered around old Fort Charles, where Nelson had actually trod, and saw the old cannon rusting away in the gun ports and an old dungeon, rings in the walls, winding passages and an ancient disappearing cannon in an immense gun pit. We bathed in the surf (a terrible undertow on the far shore). We came back, had supper at the Club, played a game of horseshoes, and back to barracks. Found two papers from home and a roll of papers.

Had a hard time waking Smithson and Chapman to go on duty, had to put the former under a cold shower.

May 16: I was on hospital guard taking Frobisher's place. Three A company men got 28 days detention apiece for smashing their way out of a cell through the ventilator. There are two more to get the same sentence, they are in hospital at present. Major Sutcliffe is back and more severe than ever. He inspected us and gave us a strongly worded lecture, he is really going to make things tough for defaulters (especially if they are privates). McPherson borrowed a corporal's shirt (with the two hooks) went downtown, was picked up, brought back and lodged in a cell. We ate dinner and supper outside since the mess hall has been cleaned out in preparation for a dance. There are a lot of flags hung from the ceiling. This dance is supposed to be for the benefit of the Athletic Association. All police are CB'd for it.

May 17: The dance proved to be quite a success judged by the number of drunks and fights. Kirk was challenged by the two Mulvaney's to go out on the polo field, so he went, and they both jumped him and had a regular merry-go-round. Kirk got a shiner and his clothes were torn and dirtied, but one of his assailants was forced to go to the hospital for repairs. This afternoon, George and I went to the Carib to see "Navy Girl", came back to the Maple Leaf Club for supper and had a game of horseshoes (when we got back to camp). When we entered the garrison, Lapointe and Hardisty staggered in, worn out and bloody. They had been having a quiet talk with a U.S. Marine, when a gang of native toughs mobbed them, and they had to fight their way to the police station. Lapointe and Hardisty were cold sober. I believe the American would have been killed if our two men had not rescued him.

May 18: I was on camp patrol today, and then running back and forth with the key to the pound, as the natives began to reclaim their goats.

The movie on camp tonight was "Lets Make Music" with Crosbie. The sport short called "Snow Eagles" was good, it showed skiers coming down the mountains.

May 19: The latest scandal in camp is that Chenier, a batman at officers' quarters became enamoured of a wealthy widow who had buried three husbands and had a twenty year old daughter and vast riches. He asked the Colonel for permission to marry her and was refused, so he married her anyway. As punishment, the Colonel ordered him returned to duty. He was Capt. Bailey's batman in Winnipeg and never did the drill or fatigues of an ordinary private, so they will break his heart if he gets a long stretch of internment guards. He is a very conceited, dapper little fellow with a superiority complex and a firm conviction that the world owes him, not just a living, but a life of ease and luxury. Old Sgt Major Wiley would have given his eye teeth just to have Chenier in his power for a single week, the first thing he would roar would be "Wipe that smile off your face," then he would put him through a rigorous course of arms drill, shun, slope arms, order arms, shun, present arms, present arms for inspection, shun, fix bayonets, all with a running commentary of "correct that slope, you're not holding a pitchfork" or "chin in, stomach in, chest out". Or 50 minutes of Guard House drill on the double, never any more than three paces in any direction, shun, quick march, on the double, right turn, left turn, about turn, and so ad infinitum. After 50 mins., Wiley would shout, "Halt, order arms, stand at ease". Then he would say "You're huffing and puffing and frothing at the mouth like a mad dog, do you call yourself a soldier?" If Chenier was smart, he would say "No sir." If he said yes, he would be drilled till he dropped.

Chenier was highly indignant when told to sleep in a forty bed hut, he said he "would have no privacy". Someone said he could hang up drapes around his cast iron bed. Chenier actually tried to rent the cubicle at the end where the sergeant sleeps!

Tonight I start a week of night shift, 11-7 on MQ I spent a couple of hours relieving Bob Grace behind the desk in the Guard House. The truck made several trips downtown, some of our men in the LaPetite. Danny Hogan broke out of barracks, was brought back, lodged in a cell. Dick Wilson is on patrol, he and I came in for lunch at four o'clock in the morning. Dick said to me, "If ever ghosts walk anywhere, it must be here." He had been reading about an early insurrection on this island and the high rate of casualties. After lunch in the kitchen, we relieved the hospital guard.

May 20: Slept till noon. Along with the rest of the GMP, I have been transferred to HQ Company as an employed man, it came out on orders today. Mail call, I got four letters and a card. Rumour says Hogan (who is still AWOL) married a Cuban to keep her from being deported, and also for the small consideration of five hundred pounds.

Yesterday afternoon six of the MP's went to see "Brigham Young" at the Carib. Some fine acting, splendid scenery. I did not like the story, it ended abruptly, without any problems being solved.

The kitchen staff have been told by the Capt. QM to economize on our rations. How strange when the good Capt. is putting weight on himself all the time! He says there isn't enough money allotted to feed us well. Down here, one bushel of Irish potatoes costs one English pound.

Did I tell you that on our visit to Port Royal, we walked through old Fort Charles and saw a bronze tablet set in a wall that informs the passerby of the fact, that, "In this place once dwelt Horatio Nelson, Ye who tread his footsteps remember his Glory". Also, when we rode back the three and a half miles across-the. well protected harbour on a motor launch over water as smooth as the proverbial mill pond, we saw a pile of coal as big as a very large straw stack, with an elevated track beside it, and a number of cranes, the mechanical kind. There is an important coaling station here. We did see a pelican with his long bill and ridiculously solemn expression, perched on an old timber jutting from the water.

May 21: Very strange things happen. Someone left a watch with the RSM while he spent two weeks at Montpelier. Someone saw the watch with the initials D. L. on the back and thought it was dead Lyon's watch, he took it downtown and had the initials ground off, then M. and S. found out and thought they had as much right to it as anyone, so they took it and hocked it. Then Trevor Du Bedad, who is a second Sherlock Holmes, found out a little and suspected a lot more, and got the three so scared they decided to redeem the watch and give it back to the rightful owner. What he thought when he saw the initials removed we will never know.

Show here tonight was "Typhoon" with Dorothy Lamour in Technicolour, its plot hinged on a fantastic, improbable yarn, but had some lovely scenery of the South Seas. Tonight Smithson unfit for duty.

May 22: Lance Corporal W. Harvey went to Newcastle. We shall miss him. He was a master of the art of self defense (and offense). No one ever crossed him a second time. Tonight I went over to the Club and saw the film of us leaving Winnipeg a year ago. Free soup after! It will take more than soup to wash away the infamy from this regiment brought on by Jamaican rum.

May 23: The camp is agog over the Chenier case. The pictures of he and his wife were in the papers this morning. He is 21, she is 56, has two daughters older than he is. But she is wealthy. It looks like a plain case of fortune hunting. He is now under arrest and in a cell for refusing to obey the Colonel's orders.

May 24: Slept the forenoon away. Well, Chenier decided to take the Colonel's punishment which was 28 days detention. Before he is through "doubling". I'll bet he curses the day he ever met the rich old widow. Smithson was tried and given 7 days CB, and one hour a day pack drill. The battle of Crete is raging. The Germans seem to be suffering heavy losses. The sergeants are holding one of their usual riotous dances tonight.

May 25: Major Clarke was at the sergeants' dance and when he went back to his quarters with the other officers, he found his civilian clothes had all disappeared! Too tired to care, he crawled into bed after taking off his last suit. When he woke in the morning it was gone, too! Capt. Yetman reports his gold watch was stolen. Robideau says Capt. Yetman looks like a man who always has a bad taste in his mouth! Maybe he has a good reason. The way the officers' quarters are situated on the edge of South Camp Road, it would be very easy for miscreants to dash in and out and away again, with any loot. Last night a native R.E. and one of our transport men had words and came to blows, and as a result, the former was sent to hospital.

Yes, I did answer Doctor Mowat's letter and Clem's too.

The show in the camp tonight was "Too Many Girls", a college football picture, very light and amusing. While the picture was in progress the GMP went downtown and conducted an intensive search for Danny Hogan and brought him in, so saving him from being charged with desertion, he has only been AWOL for eight days and some hours.

I changed shifts as always, slept the forenoon, went on duty 3-11. Hogan was tried and given 24 days detention. When I took him up to C Company stores to get his clothes, I noticed two steel helmets and remains of a gas mask which Ross said C Company boys had dug up while spading gardens. They had been buried for several years as the inside was rotted out of the helmets and not much left of the respirator. I bet there is an ugly story behind this incident, perhaps someone wanted to get someone in trouble just before kit inspection was due, will never know.

This afternoon two K.S.L.I. arrived to do detention from Curacao. Six months for striking a sergeant. They say that Curacao is a hot, desolate, terrible place to be stationed. That Jamaica is a paradise compared to it. I asked the two if they knew anything about military equipment being buried, and they said they hated a sergeant so they stole his rifle and bayonet and buried them. He was court martialled for their disappearance and stripped of his rank because he couldn't explain where they were, or what had happened. Some parcels came in, we hear the Bismark has been sunk in retaliation for the loss of the Hood.

May 27: I slept late, missing breakfast. Got two letters today. They had a heavy frost at home on May. 16th. Last night a Cameron, from Aruba, who had just been discharged from hospital after months of treatment for an infected leg, was found improperly dressed and wandering in the MQ He was lodged in a cell. Today C. Cardinal was sentenced to 96 hours detention for AWOL Tonight, B. Cardinal was brought into the Guard House. He had been AWOL, when searched, he was carrying a loaded revolver, $12.00 in Canadian money, and ten pounds, five shillings in British, Jamaican and Bermuda notes. He is supposed to have married the old lady who runs the Kit Kat Bar, and whether he rifled the bar's till immediately after the ceremony or used his gun in a hold up, no one knows for sure yet. But he will be detained on general principles as a very suspicious character.

I was talking to Jimmy Young (Truthful James) who says Hogan will break out of the Guard House as soon as his thirst for liquor becomes unbearable. That once in his past he escaped from Kingston Penitentiary in Canada. Young is noted for his honesty. He said once he never had to tell a lie! I'm not so sure about Hogan.

The companies from A to D excluding HQ, each spent two weeks on maneuvers at Montpelier. This covered a wide area and part of a ranch stocking large herds of different breeds of cattle. What passes for a cowboy down here is any mounted native, whether he is on a horse, mule or donkey, but he must be wielding a long, heavy blacksnake whip of plaited rawhide. Our men saw two of these "cowboys" chasing trespassers out of a sugar can plantation. Before the miscreants got through the fence they were screaming from the lashing they got. Half a dozen men bought whips and have them in camp.

May 28: I swept out the hut this morning. They say Chenier is weeping like a child in DB

May 29: Pay day. Old Dave Johnston was in our hut for a long talk. I gave him a roll of magazines and Recorders from home. He loves to talk about the good old days before the war (the first war) and about Matilda Faulkner who once worked in the Post Office. He lives in the past. Tonight, Harkness and Bobby Shaer were locked up.

May 30: I cleaned and oiled my rifle. Private Ramsay and Major Clarke are going home taking the ship tonight. Chapman is taking a special pass to see them safely on the ship. Then who will see Chapman safely home in Up Park Camp. Bob Grace and I were summoned to the Myrtle Bank Hotel, but the trouble makers were not there. We found them on Harbour Street, they had broken out of barracks and were improperly dressed. They were brought in and locked up. Both Big Red Aitkens and B. C. Moore are in for creating a disturbance at the NAAFI. Logan was orderly officer and ordered their arrest. There are 16 prisoners in the guard room alone, an all time high.

The Band is playing down at the officers mess, a big party for Major C.'s farewell. A call from Crossroads, Bob Grace and I went down. Cpl Sam Kravinchuk hailed us. He had found a U.S. sailor lying in the street across the street car line, and had carried him into the small park, north of the Carib. We loaded him up and searched till we found a U.S. shore patrol in whose care we could leave him. Finally, after some time, we ascertained that he was off the U.S.S. Bowditch. Tonight at 10:30, Dooley ran a high temp. and was taken to the hospital, as he was doing detention, a guard of three men was routed out to guard him. Two ships guards went out in rapid succession, and Birnie Whalen was absent from one and had his name and number taken.

CSM Osborn fainted, fell and cut his nose. Two buglers came in together, one had a badly damaged eye. Lavallee is being blamed for a large cut above and below the eye. This morning O'Connor was escorting five men to the hospital and two escaped.

Bill Jeffery is selling his book of poems at 1 shilling 6 pence. He has sold a hundred copies. A number of R.E. are digging all over, trying to locate a water main whose location has been a mystery for years. Can't even find it on the ancient blueprints.

Tonight the sergeants are having a dance to celebrate the fact that a year ago we landed in Jamaica. I do not see any logic in that. A lot of men have been ruined who were once decent human beings.

Jim Gard and Bob Grace answered a hurry call and brought in someone who was creating a disturbance. The instant the truck stopped, the drunk leaped out and darted for the gate. I was there and got a head-lock on him and we carried him in and took off his belt and shoes as custom requires. These were good 'Oxfords! When the two who had escaped from O'Connor put in a shame faced appearance at the Guard House, Speed Darragh met them with a volley of hard rights and lefts that soon floored them both, and they yelped like whipped curs. As Speed Darragh said afterwards, "It's the only language they understand." Or as Bob Grace explained it, "You cannot reason with a moron."

Jeffrey is celebrating the sale of his book of poems much as Robbie Burns would have done, and does not hesitate to defend his gift in these words:

My fame is sure, the poet said,

A hundred years when I am dead,

The 'll heap the honours on my head,

They grudge me noo,

Today the hundred years have sped,

That proved it true!

His evenings have a hazy glow about them, and mornings still see him in a cheerful daze.

June 1: Harvey Creedon has a new crocodile hide, eight feet, six inches long. He paid eight pounds for it.

The good Oxfords belonging to the drunk last night have disappeared this morning! Ah well, if he cares nothing about his character or reputation, why would he worry about his shoes?

This extract is from Rupert Hughes' "The Man Without a Home":

"But history never writes curtains. It has no curtains. It lets things fringe out or tangle into hopeless knots, and leaves them so.

History writes lives as it likes to. History has no sense of form, of ideals. It fairly rains plots but it will not shape them to the canons of art or good story telling. History just runs on and on. It must History never sleeps, never stops, never closes its doors. It mingles dull stretches and purple flashes, fire and ashes. Underneath its dull surface seeds of future life may be germinating busily or dying miserably. Only the harvest will tell"

My diaries are history, I lived through these years, toiled through them, struggled and suffered through them. I write about the Dirty Thirties in Manitoba because I knew, and experienced the heartbreaks of crop failures. Let no man scoff at Garrison duty in Jamaica, who never experienced the paralyzing, stultifying effect of military discipline, when every detail and aspect of life and expression is governed by that inflexible military discipline.

June 2: I started my week shift of 7-3 this morning, on the East Gate, an extremely hot, uncomfortable post; owing to the Imperial holiday today it was closed before dinner, and I finished out my hours on MQ There is supposed to be a big parade tomorrow as the Colonel is supposed to be leaving by plane for home. An inspection of men’s feet has started, several men are in hospital with "Jungle Rot" in their feet, the pavement we walk on all day gets to feel like the top of a stove by noon. After duty hours a few men are practising lacrosse out on the polo field, I think Bob Grace is the only man who ever played. The British are leaving Crete to the Germans.

June 3: A lot of our men did not like the cut of the tunics or slacks that were regular army issue, so they had some tailor- made at their own expense for walking out dress. But now it has come out in orders (on the official bulletin board) that we cannot walk out in any tailor-made garment, unless it is the exact shade of the issue and the exact military pattern. This is really nitpicking at its very worst. All the officers have tailor-made uniforms, they can't bear to see anyone looking as smart as they do.

The parade for the ceremony of the Colonel's farewell was held this morning. All available ranks were present, formed a hollow square, and the regiment was formerly handed over to Major Sutcliffe after a speech. A lot of officers have been transferred from one company to another and some promoted, Kay shook hands with them all. Dick Wilson and Cecil Fines were taking pictures off the roofs of the huts.

The Band struck up a good marching tune, "Colonel Bogey" and led all the ranks out through the east gate, including the IC guard, and afterwards marched in again.

The east gate is a hot place, I nearly cooked today. Tonight there was a grudge fight between La Fortune and Holden, both of D Company. Just a few hard smashes in the face and Holden was sick in the third round and T stopped the fight and gave the decision to La Fortune.

June 4: A number of men up on orders and remanded to the Colonel; Lavallee got eight days detention for hitting a bugler and cutting his face. Sutcliffe is instituting a great many changes already, he is moving the pay office out of the Battalion Orderly Room., over to the hut across the road on the south side of the East Gate. All men available for sports parade at two were requisitioned for carrying furniture, etc., across to the new site. Sutcliffe, as the Colonel, will have the front room of the Battalion Order office so he can keep an eye on the parade square. The show in camp tonight was "Melody for Three" with Jean Hersholt as the country doctor, rather a nice picture. C Company is going to Newcastle on Saturday; the R.E.'s are excavating across the road from our hut and laying bare a line of pipes that have been down for over forty years. There is a cable attached to the waterline at one end, with a sheet of lead, the foreman said it was a ground from an old powder magazine (that had been torn down many years ago), that once held powder for cannons in the time of Horatio Nelson. There are a great number of small pipes running across the main line, whose purpose and use they have yet to find out.

June 5: Our three regimental barbers have lost their jobs, which have been given to the natives. Everyone is sore, except the natives. They operate just outside the NAAFI. I am very tired today, my legs are stiff from standing at the east gate, the worst guard post in the camp.

We were paid our 8 and 5 for duty on our parcels at 2:15. Four letters came for me today, one bore the happy news that Eileen and Dave have another baby girl! So I celebrated by having supper over at the Canadian Club and playing several games of horseshoes.

June 6: The largest part of C Company left for Newcastle today. Dick Wilson took passport pictures of the Colonel today, using Vicker's camera with the tripod. Then when I came off duty at three, he snapped a head and shoulders picture of me, it turned out very well. Lavallee is on duty with his arm in a sling. A number of bouts in camp tonight. Kirk fought Tensdale, the latter got the decision. Jim Furey and Strugnell without any trouble. The Peterson twins put on a good exhibition bout. They are evenly matched, no decision. Lowe of B Company beat Clubb of A, a close fight.

June 7: The rest of C Company went up the hill. B Company came down. All the police in the east half of No. 2 hut, had to move to No. 2 room in the big block west of the sergeants' mess. It doesn't make any sense. Many orders are simply to aggravate men as much as possible. The beds we had to move into were fairly moving with bedbugs, and the lockers were foul and filthy, and had more than their quota of ants and roaches. I spent a couple of hours debugging with coal oil, and then scrubbing out the locker with soap and water.

The R.E.'s putting in the new pipeline are now joining the pipe joints by running in molten lead, instead of the cement they started with.

June 8: I closed the East Gate at ten this forenoon, when the old guard marched in, and put in my time patrolling MQ till three. The two native R.E. who maintain the big tennis court there, were cooking their dinner of rice and peas, flavored with milk squeezed by hand out of freshly grated coconut meat and added spices. When I came off duty at three, old Dave Johnston came in and talked for an hour about Lothians, Forkes and Fairlies. He figured that George David Fairlie would be about 46 now.

I was on duty at the show tonight, "The Amazing Mr. Williams". It was the story of a police detective who never had time to get married.

June 9: I took my iron bed out on the cement verandah in the sun and took it all apart, bugs and eggs by the hundreds were in every crack and crevice. I killed what I could, and then tried to get coal oil at the QMS., but they swore they hadn't a drop. I went to transport and they did a lot of beefing before they gave me a little. Said it was not their job to provide oil for bugs. I painted my bed with oil, had my three biscuits out baking in the sun, my pillow out, my blanket hanging on the line.

It rained heavily this afternoon. Tonight I started my week of night shift 11-7 as runner in the Guard House with Bob Grace.

June 10: Slept away the forenoon. After dinner went on clothing parade and traded in old shorts and sox for new ones. The Capt. QM is in a particularly ugly mood, bullying and blustering. Cpl Del Fisher reported the Capt. QM to Capt. Baird and the latter was in the offing just waiting for one extra offensive remark to give him an excuse to put a spoke in his wheel, but the QM saw him out of the corner of his eye. Tonight the native R.E.'s are working by electric light on the pipeline excavations.

George Stevenson told me he had asked Sutcliffe for permission to marry Peggy Palmer (a lovely girl, has a job in the bank) could not get permission, is baffled and distraught. The R.E.'s worked all night on the pipes, old Gallup, the foreman, is an Englishman, who came out here 33 years ago and married a Jamaican girl, in his words, "When I was young and handsome". He is very thin and very stooped, his lower teeth point straight down to his throat like a shark's, anything he bit into would never get away. He says tea is now five bob a pound on the island.

The water in camp here is now shut off while they work on the pipes. Gallup and Sproule, the native straw boss (a big hefty man, weight 210 pounds, more brown than black) raided our left over lunch, drank what was left of our tea, and carried away our bread for the rest of their men! Little fires of pitch pine are flickering under the pots where the R.E.'s are melting lead for the pipe joints. The smoke from the pine is scented and fragrant, reminds me for an instant of dinnering outdoors, the winter I was down east in '34.

June 11: Old Dave Johnston had one of the lumps cut out of his arm. The doctors are going to analyze it before cutting out anymore. The Colonel is leaving this afternoon, the officers are all wishing him good-bye. A big dinner farewell for him, so they could be free for it, they have CSMs taking over ships guards and the RSM took out the IC guard today! An unheard of thing for old Paddy Kennan to have to do. The band will play the Colonel to the dock, he is going by ship. I got two letters today. The show in camp tonight was "Outposts of the Mounties". Beautiful scenery, fine singing.

At midnight a message from the Crossroads, so Bob Grace took out a truck and brought back Carl and Bill Jeffry, it seems they had interfered with a policeman making an arrest. Carl, as per usual, had been collecting souvenirs. He brought back a black frock coat and a high black stovepipe hat. Whether he took them off an undertaker or not, he did not say. Maybury made a bed check at three and found Carl absent and this morning Bob had a bad cut over his eye, so both must have been out again and fighting.

June 12: Slept away the forenoon. Got two letters after dinner. They say the ship that sailed at eleven last night with Colonel K. on board was a Norwegian banana boat called the Gundarson, one of the fastest freighters in the West Indies, but K.'s quarters on deck were rather cramped. It took three trucks to carry his luggage and his collection of souvenirs down to the dock. He sold his bicycle to little Joe Furey for eight pounds. Little Joe, the Wrangler. He came from Sydney. He said every time-he went to town he brought back an almond chocolate bar for his mother, she was very fond of them.

Big Red Aitkens on a spree at Crossroads. Several fights in Art Kong's place. Jim Gard went in (on duty) and found Mrs. Kong sobbing behind the bar counter and the big plate glass mirror smashed. Gard said, "It was no place for a decent woman, serving drinks to drunks." I never heard Gard speak with so much emotion.

In order to keep awake between calls at the Guard House, was reading Bret Hartes' stories on the wild mining towns during the night, and I was wondering if the wild mining towns were any wilder than Kingston, Jamaica after pay parades.

As runner in the Guard House., I unlock the Bakers Gate at 2:30, wake the cook in the kitchen at 3:30 and the bugler at 5:30, and all the morning shift of the GMP

June 13: Didn't get much sleep today. MP were paid at eleven with HQ Company for the first time for me. It is the largest Company in the battalion, 230 strong, all employed. I bought some snapshots from Cecil Fines. On order today, all webbing must have one more scrubbing, and then kept blancoed.

June 14: Slept away the forenoon, bought some more snapshots from Wilson and Fines. Two rolls of newspapers arrived from home today. I wrote home this evening. Went on duty at eleven. Capt. Baird phoned in from the Glass Bucket saying a private was there (out of bounds). Grace and Mulvaney went down and picked up W. J. Smith of B Company. He was just his normal self, very ugly, brought in, locked up. Another call from Rum Lane, another truck went out, picked up Happy Waite.

June 15: Slept the forenoon, missed dinner. The camp show tonight was Lupe Velez in "Mexican Spitfire Out West". It was one of the funniest pictures I ever saw in my life. Lord Epping was certainly a card. And the man who played him was a scream. The short was an old silent comic of Charlie Chaplin. The odd thing was, all the words flashed on the screen were in the Spanish language.

Lamarlaux is in a cell, close arrest.

June 16: After a night of duty, tried to sleep in forenoon but Kirk and Mulvaney were trying to kill each other. If only they could do it silently, it would be O.K. with me! At three I went on this week's shift, hospital guard, 3-11.

June 17: Got two parcels, both very good. Blancoing our webbing as per orders. Very poor blanco compared with what we used to get at home. Three letters came in for me, glad to get them. I have a beastly head cold. HQ clothing parade. I traded in my old deck shoes and got new ones.

June 18: A lot of promotions lately, but C Company is the only Company where the men are not being paid for their stripes. Tonight Louis fought Conn and won in the 13th round.

Up at the hospital, the only station they could get was broadcasting in Spanish!

June 19: I was polishing brass all morning in preparation for inspection Monday. There is a report that Germany had invaded Russia at 15 different points.

June 20: The tea on this island is now 5 shillings a pound and the flour for our bread is being adulterated by adding corn meal. This makes it very heavy and it does not rise properly. The best flour never came here anyway. I have examined flour bags around the back door of the kitchen that had this printed on them: 196 lbs. WINTER WHEAT FLOUR, MANUFACTURED BY HUNT MILLING CORP., LONDON, ONTARIO.

No Hard Red Spring Wheat flour for us.

Writing letters. The R.E.'s are doing a lot of resurfacing with tar and gravel on the roads through the camp enclosure, the big steam roller is running constantly over the freshly laid material. The other day Sarginson went to sleep in the reading room of the NAAFI, he was wearing a wristwatch, a present from his mother. When he woke up, it was gone. He was frantic.

June 21: An order from the war office in London came here, that we must practise resisting invasion. So, when the general alarm blew this morning, every available man turned out with rifle, helmet, etc., in battle order. The police merely reinforced their own patrols. I was sent to the Duppy Gate, where Grant, the native who works on the tennis court, came over and regaled me with his wild fantastic notions and ambitions, and assured me of his immense potentialities and what a bright future he had if he ever got around to exploiting and developing his splendid talents and magnificent brain power, in the meantime he would continue watering the lawn until he made up his mind what field of endeavour to specialize in. He was launching with gusto into a new subject, when his wife came along and sent him back to cutting grass.

Most of the troops went in trucks out to the Palisadoes (a great half circle of coral reef rimmed by a good highway), where they held maneuvers, even Major Sutcliffe, was there and accidentally got into a patch of cactus, at which he reacted exactly like a common private. Even a few K.S.L.I. who had somehow escaped the draft to Curacao because they held important (?) clerical jobs, had their webbing on and carried their rifles.

Meades is up on orders, AWOL and insolent to Sgt Darragh. A couple of rolls of newspapers arrived for me. Speed Darragh is making out the duty roster now.

June 22: The headlines in the "Jamaican Gleaner" say Germany is fighting Russia. Why on earth would this explain Sgt Watson into a screaming rage? Why would he yell, "Lies, all lies, they are not fighting." This is very puzzling indeed. Everyone knows he admires Russia, but why is he so concerned? So angry? Doesn't this fit in with his plans for the future of that nation?

Tonight I heard a recording of Churchill's speech and he pledged all aid to Russia that could be spared, from our own effort.

June 23: I start my week of forenoons 7-3, as runner in the Guard House, but I change off every hour with Olcen in the main gate, and relieve Lapointe at the East gate for dinner. Jim Gard went to the hospital with a swollen throat, possibly tonsillitis. He had a tooth out weeks ago and it bled for a long time and bits of bone worked out. He uses a lot of snoose tucked into his lower lip every day.

I saw some fast footwork and some hard hitting in the ring tonight. Cpl Kelso beat Pte. Peterson, Sgt Ferguson beat Cpl Peterson, Lavallee fought Bleu to a draw, McPherson beat Nixon, the latter did some foul punching, would never break clean. Younger fought a R.A.M.C. exhibition bout, called a draw, a clean, hard, fast fight.

Bob Grace and I went down to the Imperial Staff Sgts. Mess to investigate a chimney fire; Bob climbed on top of the roof and poured salt down the chimney.

June 24: It seems Sgt Darragh is going back to straight duty and leaving the police. We shall miss him. He was a tower of strength. Cpl Rodgers, who was a sergeant until recently, may be coming on the staff. The camp is full of talk about a party of senior NCO's who are being sent home to have a course in advanced training.

June 25: The official axe in the hands of Capt. Tarbuth, the new Adjutant, has been brandished and swung around the police force, heedless of where the chips may fall. Mulvaney's been given five days CB and sent back to straight duty. Meaning C.C. guard. Jeffry, the poet, back to IC guard. Meades has lost his stripe and back to IC guard. Full Cpl Coutts and Bamandine came down from Newcastle. They are slated to go home with Tugby for a six week course. Police are playing transport tonight in softball. The show in camp tonight showed British paratroopers in training.

June 26: Hallet is out of hospital, he seems fine after his operation for appendicitis. He says Bamandine is a screwball and continually confuses his patients, can't remember which is which. There was a Scot from Aruba, a mental case, who had refused to bow to any authority. So, they decided to break him, body, mind and soul. He was in detention continually, down in Aruba, stood up to all the punishment, but finally, hard labour in the hot sun, and reduced rations and water got to him, and he went queer in the head. His name was Barry Ravenscroft. A musical genius, he wrote music for the pipe band, was a musical entertainer in civilian life.

He glorified the Highlands, would extoll their beauty for hours, and wrangle fiercely with any other nationality. He had 137 pounds to his credit at Command HQ, and the only thing he ever spent any money on was razor blades. He heard they were being rationed in the Old Country, so he bought out the NAAFI of their entire supply. Then as an afterthought, he bought a pair of silk stockings for his wife! He is being sent back to a mental institution in the Old Country.

Hallet has the true story of how the Germans came to be hurt in the scuttling of the Idlewold. The crew had scuttled her and were in rowboats rowing toward the British ship, when a ship's officer ordered the Lewis gunner to fire a burst just over their heads. The gunner's family had been killed by Nazi bombs in London and he was bitter and vindictive, so he fired right on the rowboat, killing five and wounding three. He got six months detention for it. The wounded are still in the hospital. Hallet took great pleasure in teasing the wounded German sailors (so he said).

Ramsay, who went home with an ulcerated stomach, is reported cured and coming back. Applin, who went home earlier with a bad leg, is supposed to be in jail for wife beating.

June 27: A riot among the prisoners in the internment camp, the newspaper came in with headlines of heavy fighting between the Germans and the Russians, and one prisoner shouted "Hurray for Russia". The rest all set on him and beat him savagely. Now, this afternoon, there was a funeral for an IC inmate, and we wonder if it was for the one who was beaten. Vic Geekie got a stripe (without the pay that is supposed to go with it) acting Lance Cpl, without pay, it appears on orders. Leitch has been transferred back to A Company. He had hoped for a "board" for ailments too numerous to mention, which would entitle him to go home. Corporal Rodgers is in the Guard House in place of Darragh.

June 28: Reinforcements arrived this forenoon. I was on duty at the main gate when they drove in. About 78 men and 6 or 7 officers. They went right up to Newcastle to train, may be there for two or three months. An odd thing, they didn't bring any rifles or bayonets with them! This is unheard of conduct in any army, according to the RSM; no one in uniform leaves his own country without a weapon. So stores and ordnance were ransacked, I hear they tried to borrow from the J.I.V.'s who were understandably loath to give up any weapons.

When I went downtown at three to pick up Dick Wilson's pictures at McGregors', I missed supper. There is a dance in the Sgts. Mess tonight Lamareaux is locked in a cell being AWOL and worse.

June 29: Two letters from home, glad to get them. This afternoon, went out with George Stevenson and visited Rockfort, an old fort on the coast, 4 1/2 miles from Kingston, fortified by the British against threatened French invasion from San Domingo under Du Casse in 1694, enlarged and strengthened from time to time. The historian Edward Long wrote in 1774, it "consisted of two bastions mounting 21 guns, (24 pounders) and furnished with a small powder magazine. Also, a battery of 24 guns on the hillside above, surrounded by a moat which is lower than the water in the harbour, and may be filled from there at convenience. The main gate is furnished with a drawbridge, which may be raised or lowered. There is also a store-room for powder in the side of the great hill, Waireka Ridge". The which same storeroom was constructed in 1884.

June 30: I wrote home and sent a small parcel. A party of C Company came down today, a few of the new draft came down with them to see the big field and sports day tomorrow. Old Dave Johnston is coaching the police in a tug of war with the transport drivers tonight.

The transport are taking up a collection for Bill Bates, the motorcycle dispatch rider who is getting married to a white Jamaican, L.D. We all threw in a shilling. Tonight Sam Silkey was telling us he was pursued by a girl for two years, and finally, when his willpower was weak and his resistance worn down, her family came with a minister and some of her relatives were carrying shotguns. He had never been serious but he said he could take a hint, he vows he was the only groom who ever wept at his own wedding. Tonight I start a week of night shifts, patrolling MQ with Don Frobisher who has a bad toothache and is feeling miserable.

July 1: A big parade this morning starting at 6:45 address by the Brigadier. March Past and around, to music by the Grenadiers band. Then a big sports day, I slept through the forenoon, but the MP won the tug of war, and Bob Grace won the high jump and the pole vault. I went out after dinner and saw the javelin throw and discus, and part of a game of lacrosse. Grace was by far the best player on the field.

Old Dave Johnston coached the police in the tug of war and is proud as punch they won the cup. He presented every member of our team with a genuine badger bristle shaving brush and mug.

Tonight at eight, O'Conner, Olcen and I were detailed for duty at the Dance (Regimental) at the Silver Slipper downtown. We were taken down in an army truck, O'Conner put on the main door, Olcen to take the tickets at the wicket, and I was at the head of the stairs that ran down the back. The dance hall was on the second floor.

The evening was marred by quite a number of unpleasant incidents, which were all the result of heavy drinking on the part of those involved. The worst row was when Staff Sgt Creeves of the DB drew his bayonet on Johnston and Raitz and it was found necessary to knock the Staff Sgt senseless in order to deprive him of his dangerous weapon. Others in various brawls were Jaskiewitz and Poulson, Hales and Ward, Blueman, Hisco, Jeffry, Lyons, Lavallee and others too numerous to mention.

There was a very tall branchy tree that came up past the balconey and towered above the building, and numerous natives climbed it and swayed in the branches for a glimpse of the dance. They looked like grinning apes, and I wondered if this could happen anywhere else in the world.

Hot dogs were sold at one counter, for six pence, there were two bars, one upstairs, one down, both doing a roaring business. When the dance finally drew to a close around 2:30, there was a real mess to clean up. Under CSM Adams, a few of us, including Jim Furey and myself, sorted and packed cases and cases of bottles and glasses, many broken and Furey had a real battle of wits with a gang of natives who were supposedly caretakers of the building (but in reality a bunch of ruffians), over who would have custody over a box of soap samples left over from the field day. Then Adams insisted that J. and I stay till morning and guard the left over liquor and the tables and chairs, to see they didn't disappear. When Furey said, "Why us?", A. said," I know you two don't drink!"

So Joe Furey and I stayed and whiled away the time by talking, and Joe tried to play the piano. And he told me about his girl friends in different places, and about one he always figured was interested in him because she always acted as if she was mad at him all the time, and we agreed that women are hard to understand, and we figured we were probably glad to be bachelors.

Soon stray alley cats came creeping in, attracted by the stale odor of hot dogs. Giant cockroaches, as fast as lightening, were skittering about the counter picking up crumbs. A fast withering corsage of red roses from the breast of one of the island beauties, lay desolate and forgotten on the floor, and still the black apes grinned and gibbered and pointed as they swayed in the branches of the great trees outside the windows.

Finally the roosters began to crow, and we heard the hoofbeats of the milkman's horse as he made his early rounds. J. had to leave as he is a batman and had to get his officers ready for the day. I watched him leave with great regret. It was as if we had been presiding at a wake, there is something mournful about a deserted ball room.

But day broke in a sudden flash of sunshine as it does on this island, and the caretaker's wife and daughter climbed the long flight of stairs and entered, the latter a child of perhaps twelve, played the piano for awhile, she certainly has some musical ability. She told me she was fond of drawing and painting and was anxious to show me some of her work, but it was seven o'clock, an army truck was pulling up. My GMP relief had arrived. It was O'Conner. I rode back to camp and had breakfast and slept till 100 hours and missed dinner. O'Conner told me the caretaker's daughter's drawings and paintings were exceptional for one so young, and she had even sketched his likeness while he waited.

July 2: Clothing parade for HQ Company; I was issued a new sun helmet (which I don't need) and refused new underwear and a shirt which I do need, so I was forced to buy the latter, which gives the lie to the old saw, "All your needs will be provided for in the army."

July 3: All ranks CB as there is to be a practise blackout tonight, as a further precautionary measure to cope with an "invasion"? When the alarm sounds, we must douse all lights, sally forth in battle order, be issued iron rations and ammunition, and take up our positions on appointed posts. An odd thing how the men who have been here for a year deliberately "show off" in front of the new draft.: The old guard coming off duty at the IC when they realized they were under observation of the new draft, acted as if they were on ceremonial parade for the Brigadier. Even Major, pardon me, even Colonel Sutcliffe couldn't help but laugh. He doesn't laugh easily.

Then in our hut alone, when four new men walked in, Kirk put on the gloves/with O'Conner and they pounded each other around quite brutally all for effect, the other occupants of the hut engaged in other horseplay, overturning each others beds and scuffling in general, while the new men crowded into a corner, their eyes bulging and muttering among themselves, as if to say, 'What have we got ourselves into how?"

July 4: Slept the forenoon, Vic Geekie and I went out to Doctor Anderson's place on Ruthven Road. Spent a very pleasant evening, they are most hospitable people. Went on patrol of MQ at 11 pm, and at two in the morning, Bob Grace came out and told me to report to the Guard House, from there a truck took me out to Windward Road, Gibbs Ave., and I was left there to guard a car that had been stolen from Bournemouth by someone in uniform. The car had been abandoned after it crashed into a railroad rail which had been used as a post. I stayed there till seven in the morning, during the night I had a visit from the indignant owner of the car who was really ugly and from the city police who plainly disliked and distrusted anyone in an army uniform, and did not hesitate to state the fact. It was not exactly an enviable position. But Grace had warned me that I probably would be harassed by someone during the hours of darkness.

It was still interesting to watch the constant flow of traffic moving towards Kingston, mostly carts loaded with firewood drawn by one, two or sometimes three donkeys. Then from 5-7, there were hundreds of pedestrians, nursemaids, gardeners, men and women of all work, going out of Kingston toward Rockfort. I was relieved at seven, O'Conner took over.

July 5: Slept forenoon away. After dinner went down to McGregors and got enlargements of pictures. The car accident has been traced back to one of our delinquents.

July 6: A truckload of police from our camp was rushed downtown to a private house where some men in uniform had barricaded themselves, while an angry mob of natives milled around outside. G. Walker was badly beaten up. After dinner Pop Wharff and I went to Barnett Beach and bathed in the sea. The waves were coming in pretty high. There is a good shark-proof fence around this beach. The show in camp tonight was pictures taken by Martin Johnston and his wife Osa while on their travels in Africa and Borneo, called "I Married Adventure". Highlights were a jungle battle between a wart hog and a leopard, mass migration of animals from a drought and again from a forest fire.

July 7: I slept the forenoon, then at three, started my week of 3-11 shift. Trevor Du Bedad received a parcel today. Brought me a big handful of cookies, he is a generous person.

July 8: Sent home a souvenir copy of Sports Day program. I took shirt and slacks to Hale's, the tailor, for mending and repairs. This army is run in a weird, unorthodox fashion; one of our best sergeants was up on orders for borrowing a paltry sum of money from a private last October 15, and was reduced in rank to a private. But Ward was up for stealing three ladies' purses containing money at the Wembley Club, and all he got was 14 days CB The reason Hallet lost a hook was for being out of bounds in MQ and chasing someone till she screamed and woke up half the camp. Cpl McArthur was reduced to a private for letting a guard detail stray over to the Maple Leaf Club when they were ordered to guard the tents erected for field day.

The reasons for a certain good sergeant getting stripped of his rank go back a long way. He knew more than most other Sgts. and they were jealous of him, he was very outspoken and not the least diplomatic, so he made enemies in the Sgts. Mess. He had belonged to the P.P.C.L.I. and said openly they were better trained and equipped. Then too, this Sgt is a trained boxer and could lick anyone in the Sergeants' Mess, so when they feared him, they hated him.

Trist sent Ebert back to duty because he closed the bar at midnight as has always been the custom, and the Major just wanted one more drink, and if he got it, he would still want just one more, and so on and so on. Stratton and Chewter went back to duty because they claimed they were overworked.

Some of our men are taking courses in riding motorcycles. Matte came in the main gate a little too fast and so was dropped from the list as being incompetent. There was a show tonight in the NAAFI, "We Stand on Guard for Thee", they would never dare to show the pettyness or the sordid side of army life, or how those in authority take out their spite on the less fortunate.

July 9: When I went on the gate at three, relieving old Pop Wharff, a convoy appeared headed by Lieutenant Bardal, the new transport officer, on a motorcycle and followed by four station wagons and eight or ten trucks crammed with Australian troops. They rode around for an hour or so on a sight-seeing tour. It seems their ship was in the harbour for a very short time. Molyneau said we could thank our lucky stars these passing troops were not let loose downtown, or they would have turned Kingston upside down! They belong to a forestry division bound for England. Four little girls about 10 or 11 came to the gate tonight. Two were Belgian refugees, two were Americans, A. and R. Reid, pretty as a picture.

Bob Grace went up to Newcastle, Wilf Harvey came down in his place. WiIf said the worst fight he ever had was with a huge brown native woman who was causing trouble and refused to leave War Department property land.

July 10: O'Conner and I took our beds out on the concrete verandah, took them all apart, and hammered and soaked them in coal oil and left them in the sun for an hour. This afternoon, the Adjutant, Capt. Tarbuth, was tearing around on his motorcycle and he told a native on the polo field to vamoose and the native gave him some lip, so he came tearing in and ordered out a truck and three MPs (with clubs) and went tearing out to vent his ire on the impudent black, but he had disappeared into thin air, so, baffled and filled with rage and disappointment, he led the truck back to camp on his cycle. I got two letters from home, very pleased to get them.

This evening Tarbuth and Bardal, both on motor bikes, got four special police and made frequent forays down, upon and around and across the polo field to pick up any trespassers and continued at intervals till 2 pm; Tarbuth ordered a double check on all native passes on the main gate today.

July 11: Writing letters. Rained in the afternoon and very heavily in the evening.

July 12: Inspection of huts this forenoon. I did a lot of sweeping and dusting and straightening of kits. Pay parade for our 8 and 5, it was increased by addition of four pence to 8 and 9.

The Sergeants had a regular drunken orgy tonight. Could hear them singing all over camp, then they had a dance.

July 13: We actually had a real good dinner tonight, the first one in months. Tonight a call came in from the Queensbury Bar; Wilt, Olcen and McBride went out, but the troublemakers had vanished, as per usual. Got back and found a big car parked by the gate, some of Cpl Green's friends. We were without a bugler for the evening since Molyneau had gone to Mona with the band, and the other buglers were downtown or up at Newcastle.

After lights out, someone had poured a bottle of iodine over Maurice Lapointe, this did not improve his complexion or his temper. He suspected Rogers and they began roughhousing around, swiping each other's bedsheets and wrestling, quite a commotion.

July 14: I started my week of forenoon shifts 7-3, at the Cotton Tree gate. And the Adjutant's orders were to turn away every native who did not have a pass. The hardest thing was getting rid of women who were taking dinner to their husbands, and a mother who wanted to see her son. The RSM gave us a lecture at three on our conduct and appearance and our work.

Got a letter from home today, very glad to get it. Reids have a new hired girl, young and pretty and a good worker, Will she still be there when I get back? I wonder! Doggone.

A party of the new draft came down from the Hills, they are to be assigned ten to each company. I wonder why they look rude and rough and uncouth and homely. I asked Robideaux and he said it takes years to get the polish and the savoir faire and the nonchalance that he himself possesses, and he doesn't expect to see it in a raw recruit! I said it would be wonderful to have a Battalion as talented and as modest as he is and he admitted it would be wonderful, but also impossible to find!

July 15: Pay parade. It is certainly a headache being on a gate like the Cotton Tree and stopping every native for a pass and getting rid of the ones who have none, but have a very plausible story. Roy Robinson and Ernie Whitfield each have a hook with pay.

Received a roll of papers from home, Recorders and McLeans.

July 16: Two D Company men came down from the Hills on pass for a wedding. They never learned how to behave at a wedding or anything else, both went back up the Hill with a police escort. The new officers are a pain in the neck. One came prowling without warning, on his own personal inspection tour, and took six names because the spare pairs of boots were dusty or improperly placed. Last night Cpl Hiscox was picked-up at the Crossroads on orders of the RSM He was having a bitter argument with Mrs. Dillon when apprehended, he was put in a cell, which action he violently resisted, as he was mad with rage to think a few weeks ago he had been a Sergeant; I escorted him to dinner.

July 17: Six MP's and six transport drivers were up before Capt. Baird for untidy beds, lockers, etc.; all reprimanded. Some of transport got a rough going over for dirty files.

This afternoon, old Pop Wharff, Trevor Du Bedad and I hired Jim Furey's car, a Plymouth Roadster with a rumble seat, for six shillings, and bought a couple of gallons of gas, and drove to Morant Bay, about 40 miles away. We saw some lovely scenery, crossed over five rivers which were either dry or practically dry, but whose wide boulder strewn beds testified to violent raging seasonal floods.

We saw Sugar Loaf Mountain, so named for its' shape. Part of the road skirts the sea shore which is lined with coconut palms. The breakers rolling up and crashing on the beach are a fascinating sight to anyone born on the prairies. We only stopped for a few minutes at Morant Bay, long enough to fix a little trouble on the car. A pin came out of part of the clutch, and we used a bolt out of the body to take its place.

On the way back, we stopped at a small village, and bought nine large ripe bananas for a penny half penny, and three coconuts for three pence and a farthing. Stopped at Sea View for a soft drink, got back to camp at five. Dubedad drove all the way, he is a good driver, should have been in transport. Heard Lady Somers was sunk and Cpl Hiscox severely reprimanded. (He had nothing to do with the sinking).

July 18: A tough day, the Cotton Tree gate was a real headache. The Adjutant drove by eight times, then Maybury in the police truck went past twice. I was certainly under observation: The only bright spot in the day was when I got three letters. Maybury put three natives in a cell and took two to Crossroads police station for trespassing on the polo field. I am ordered to check everyone for a pass, man, woman, child.

A mule broke away from the cart it was hitched to after a wild kicking spree just inside the gate, and galloped madly off into the MQ; the driver begged me to chase it, but I blandly informed him my duty was to guard the gate, not to chase mules.

Wilt Harvey had a hot argument with old Edwards, an accountant in the store of the R.E.'s; when Kirk relieved me at three, I was tickled pink to get away. I wrote home tonight.

July 19: Plenty of grief at the Cotton Tree today. Three women all talking at the same time, out of MQ, told me what they thought of the Canadian Army, of the GMP, and of me in particular. I said very calmly that I was only obeying orders and I added, "I have certainly never molested any of you ladies," and one shouted, "Well, why haven't you? Everyone else has." That left me speechless.

Three men in the guard room facing charges. McBride has been dismissed from Police Force for some shady work taking money to send other peoples' parcels, forgetting to send them, keeping the money.

Some heavy showers of rain this afternoon. Old Edwards went to his own Colonel; Colonel Robb with his grievance against McBride. It is impossible to buy any moth balls on this island. I hear a lot of complaints about moths in our greatcoats and battle dress, because they are wool, I suppose.

July 20: A little quieter at the Cotton Tree gate, seeing it is Sunday. Laddie Stanhope, a young American, 8 1/2, came along and chatted steady for about an hour until he was tired of asking questions, and I was certainly tired of answering them. A party of our men went on a trip to Bog Walk today. The show in camp was "Find Out For Yourself" with Kay Kaiser, a crazy, spooky thing. The boys that went on the picnic say that when they stopped at a small store and all crowded in, Lieutenant Bardal caught a character lifting a bottle of liquor and put him under arrest. This light- fingered artist used to steal his comrades boots in the middle of the night and climb over the twelve foot fence, go downtown and trade the boots for rum.

Milton Dann of Transport was telling me how mean and officious Capt. Tarbuth has been, making him stand by his truck at all times. Again on ships guard, Tarbuth ordered Milton to drive through and over a bunch of donkey carts tied up in a traffic jam. When Milton refused, the officer tried to take over the truck; Milton had to use force to retain control. When they got to the ship, the Capt. got so drunk the crew had to tie a rope around his waist and lower him into the launch like a sack of potatoes, and that is the sort of man we have for an Adjutant.

July 21: Last night, the MP's did away with the 29th stray dog that had no collar, no identification, no license. We are warned to hang all our greatcoats and battledress out in the sunshine. Some of the new officers are becoming a curse with their endless inspections. A new officer was trying to ride a motorcycle and he broke his leg, it is a pity it wasn't his neck. A new officer crept-up behind K. R Johnston, managed to avoid being challenged, and Johnston got 28 days detention, that is a wicked thing to do. I am writing letters home tonight. I start on a week of night shift as runner in the guard room. A guard had been posted on the post office at Crossroads to keep the rank and file from posting letters that escape the censor. Some officer ordered the finest mango trees in the garrison cut down, this is a cruel, stupid, ignorant thing to do, we need all the shade we can get. It took forty years for these trees to grow.

July 22: I received a letter from Isobel with four snaps, and two "Melita New Eras" from Gordon. If it were not for the mail, we would be the loneliest men on earth. Old Sarah, the coloured fruit vendor, was praising everything she had in a large wicker basket. She said her husband lived on mangoes. Marcel Robideau said, "Is that because he can't eat your cooking?" Capt. Tarbuth has lost his job as Adjutant, Bowman is taking his place.

July 23: When I was making all the early calls a runner is supposed to make this morning, I came upon Sgt Abel and Lieutenant Maze, making an inspection of the feet of sleeping men, or going through the motions anyway.

A. would gingerly lift the mosquito netting and the sheet off the sleeping man's feet and the sleeper would instinctively draw his knees up to his chin. The Sgt's head would go under the sheet like an ostrich's going into the sand, and come out a lot faster than it went in. He went from bed to bed making a very superficial observation. The bugler had not yet blown Reveille. The new Lieutenant stood outside the door holding his nose. As the Sgt speeded up, I asked him what he could tell by a single glance? He grunted, "Enough." Then I asked him if he was inspecting to see if the men were sleeping with their boots on? He swung a haymaker which came close enough to make me quit the premises.

Slept away the forenoon. At two, I turned in a fatigue shirt and had it marked off my charge sheet. It had been issued to me at Fort Osborne. The camp show this evening was "Mr. and Mrs. Smith," with Carole Lombard and Robert Montgomery. A great team, very amusing. I received a parcel from the Ladies Auxiliary, of tea, sugar and cocoa. Now, if only plenty of hot water was available!

Tonight Olcen had a book at the Guard House called "Tell My Horse and Voodoo Gods", by Zora Neale Hurston. She had travelled here and in Haiti. Olcen said he'd like to see her in the army. I said, "Would it be safe for her, in this Battalion?" He grinned. Wilf Harvey is making out a report, re: Edwards for Adjutant.

An article appearing in "THE DAILY GLEANER,

Thu July 24/41.

'LADIES' FIGHT IN KING ST.

ONE LEFT WITHOUT EVEN EVE'S GARMENT

A plump ebony-skinned woman was nude on King Street in broad daylight yesterday forenoon. She was no fadist or daughter of Nature, but a mere unfortunate female who had the clothing ripped from her by an irate and much smaller adversary.

Just as the lean ears of corn devoured the fat ones in Pharoah's Fables, so did a lanky "lady" virtually devour her more luscious and shapely opponent in a fight that followed a verbal conflict.

Nobody seemed to know what the row was about, but the two daughters of Jamaica flourished themselves about the pavement in the city's main street, and uttered picturesque description of each other The language was not exactly fitted for such a public location. And soon the ladies came to grips.

As if she had carefully rehearsed her plan of action, the lean "lady" tore into her fleshy assailant, and roughly but methodically ripped her garments away, piece by piece, until the large and shapely combatant stood naked before the gaze of one and all. The unwilling nudist did not seem to mind very much being nude. But other persons cared.

A man dismounted from his bicycle and dragging off his sport shirt—he wore nothing underneath—quickly pulled it over the stripped woman. It failed to descend lower than her meridian, and, if anything, seemed to accentuate her nakedness. No man volunteered his pants, no woman presented her frock, so the nude one was bustled into the nearest store where impromptu garments were provided for her.

Fagg is locked up in a cell under close arrest, for going out for two hours in the afternoon Without a pass. Charged by Lance Corporal Sinclair The officers mess seems a mean place to work, all four privates have asked to return to duty When the old guard came off 24 hours of duty at the IC, they were ordered to grab picks and shovels and work up the iron hard soil around the orderly room. This is a barbarious way to treat tired men.

July 24: Slept the forenoon away. I received two letters today, glad to get them. Buchman in a station wagon, collided with a native on a bike and gave him a nasty spill. This evening, Kudlovitch brought out some cable exercises for developing muscles and he and Kirk are going through the chart. The who is doing detention in the guard house for stealing liquor, stole the Provost Marshall's button stick from under his nose, and the loss was only discovered by accident. There is a fine how-de-do by Major Trist because Fines was released from close arrest without written permission from the Colonel

July 25: The first period of drill in the morning is cancelled now, and instead the men have to work in the gardens around the huts. The boys are now calling themselves the Winnipeg Gardenters and say M.G. stands for Market Gardener. But underneath all this chaffing, there is a lot of bitterness. A call from the White House, Wilf and Olcen went down and picked up Delorme and Paul Caterer of A Company, but at the Cotton Tree, D. leaped out and escaped. The Caterer of the Officers' Club, named Nicholson, and his wife who live at Vineyard Pen, came along about 1:15 and said their ten year old boy had not returned home, and they called the police station and the hospital, so finally went away. Today Fines was admonished and returned to duty.

July 26: Last night we were all issued two pair of sox, it's about time! Today Hallett was fined for threatening a CSM, openly to his face, if some of the CSM's knew what was said behind their backs, they would be wearing iron plated waistcoats, and they wouldn't issue any more live rounds to the IC Guard.

Molyneaux says the Colonel is a sadist, no one else could have cut down the beautiful mango trees inside the camp. They did provide a lot of shade and a lot of fruit. The band was part of a fatigue party, and while they dug and delved with blistered hands and sweated in the sun, the Colonel appeared behind them and said musingly to Sgt Thompson, "Wouldn't it be nice to draw them in a circle and play from Sullivan, “I'm picking flowers, I'm picking flowers . . " Thompson stared at him open-mouthed, and doubts of the CO's sanity began to grow.

Tonight old Chapman and one of the new draft were run in and locked up. I read an article in the Readers Digest by Hillel Bernstein called "A Visit to Berchtesgaden".

July 27: The show in camp tonight was Cary Grant in "The Howards of Virginia", very good, some fine acting.

July 28: I am on camp patrol 2-10 this week. Tonight we went to bed as usual and were awakened by the bugler blowing the General Alarm at two o'clock, shortly after, all the lights went out. We were taken utterly by surprise, but dressed in a hurry, donned our webbing, haversack, gas mask, rifle and fell in at the guard room, were issued ammunition, iron rations, and then all gates and beats were reinforced, and the remainder marched on the double to Command Headquarters, and waited in the dark.

It was only a practise affair after all. But more German prisoners had been brought in earlier this evening, 23 sailors off a ship captured by the Caradoc near Bermuda. The All Clear sounded at twenty-five to five, but we didn't get any sleep before Reveille.

We heard a new Lieutenant was inspecting, so we swept, cleaned rifles, boots. Heard Lieutenant White had trouble with his internment camp guard and put them all under open arrest. A heavy shower of rain falling just after dinner.

July 30: Pay day. It is now on orders that the bugler on duty must sleep in the Guard House, possibly because it would be quicker and handier for him to blow the Alarm, if necessary. Police were detailed to bring Stefaniuk from the hospital to the battalion orderly room to sign some papers, but the order was cancelled. Stefaniuk came with the last draft. He is commonly supposed to be insane, but harmless. Is that why he was sent as a reinforcement to the Grenadiers? Did the top brass say he will mingle and merge with that outfit and never be noticed? It is an appalling thought. Anyway, Stefaniuk never speaks to anyone, or takes any notice of people who talk to him. He even refuses his pay, so he must be crazy.

The show in camp tonight was "The Saint Takes a Vacation".

July 31: About six men supposed to have gotten their board and started home for Canada this morning. Leitch with his bad arm; Sutton, bad knee; McLeod of B Company with asthma; Curtis with stomach ulcers; and Stefaniuk.

Tonight, Gresham went out with the police patrol and caught a lot of men out of bounds.

August 1: Today is celebrated throughout this island, as Emancipation Day, the freeing of the slaves, a public holiday. About 20 of HQ Company were up on orders. They had not gone on PT this morning. I had a letter from Jim, he has bought a new Farmall H; we needed a dependable source of power. I wish I was home to help run it. I still wonder why we are here. This island has a native coloured regiment called the Jamaica Infantry Volunteers, the J.I.V.'s, who could be guarding the Internment Camp.

A party of R.A.M.C. attached to the Camerons (for pay and rations) also some Camerons released from DB, left for Aruba today; a few K.S.L.I. left for Curacao; Pageot of C Company got 28 days detention for being absent from guard duties.

August 2: Kirk has been up several times for court of enquiry over the collision he had with another bike. I stepped into the Pioneers Workshop and chatted with Dick Oosman, a big man, with a deep, bass voice, who married a Dutch widow down here. She seems like a very nice person. Dick talks continually of getting her back to Canada and settling down to married life.

August 3: I was able to go to the picnic at Dunns River Falls because someone dropped out, and I was allowed to take his place. We started at ten in the forenoon, arrived at a quarter to one, about 50 men in station wagons. First we bathed in the sea and then in the fresh water falls to get rid of the sticky salty film left by the contact with salt water. We had dinner at two, left at four, arrived in camp at 6:15. Around trip of 125 miles. The road was very dusty and the driving tiresome, but the splendid beach, the lovely scenery around the falls, the clear, clean river water and the change from camp, made any discomfort all worth it.

The country we passed on the way was for the most part, the flat lands where bananas and sugar cane plantations flourish. However, there was some rolling, grazing country, which was surrounded, divided and subdivided by miles of stone fences.

Tonight, the show in camp was "Safari", an African story with Fairbanks Junior and Madeliene Carrot.

August 4: A rumour has swept through camp like wild fire, that we are leaving Jamaica within six weeks. I started another week of afternoon shifts, 1-11, with Smithson, guarding defaulters. This afternoon they were shovelling and hauling earth to make flower beds?? around huts! The so-called soil is a mixture of clay and stones.

August 5: The greater part of the goods in the R.QM stores is being packed away in boxes and bales for shipment elsewhere.

Someone asked Capt. Davies if he had to stay here, because he was part of the Pay Corps; he violently denied this. There is a general tightening down on all mail going out, and we have been warned not to mention anything. We hear one of the batmen in the officers quarters is up on orders for talking too freely. All mail for Canada is to be severely censored. A number of letter boxes downtown were raided by army officials. The men who spend downtown cannot get any more credit.

Eric Anderson got a letter from Coutts today. George is getting married on the 6th, tomorrow. We all wish him the best of luck. He deserves it. Roy Robinson is going to send him a wire from all of us.

August 6: I managed to trade in an old pair of slacks at the QM stores and get a new pair, much too large, but the tailor will cut them down. This is positively the last day any clothing will be issued. La Riviere got.28 days detention for grappling with St. Windsor. Show in camp tonight was "Rangers of Fortune", with Fred McMurray.

August 7: We got our duty pay today, it was up to nine shillings. Tonight, I went to see "The Mark of Zorro" at the Carib. Tyrone Power, Basil Rathbone and Linda Darnell starred in it. Some fine acting and some splendid sword play.

August 8: I took a pair of boots to our Army shoemaker to be repaired and he condemned them, and gave me a new pair which is fine except that it is so hard to get a shine on a new pair, they are so oily. Several heavy showers of rain today. Being in charge of defaulters with Smithson, I had to see the boxing ring was prepared for the presentation ceremony. Ropes were unfastened from three sides and benches had to be carried from the mess hall, and chairs from the Sergeants Mess. At eight, a fair crowd was present. The platform held the band which played several numbers and Milloy led it. Sgt Thompson may be getting a board for ill health. A number of Officers had chairs and the Colonel did the presenting of all cups and certificates of awards. Each of the police tug o' war team got a large diploma, O'Connor wanted to know where he could cash his in, this produced a snicker from the ranks and an awkward pause for the Colonel Then I had to see that the benches and chairs went back to where they came from, and the ring ropes were secured once more.

Yesterday Dooley fined 28 days detention, tonight he broke out of camp (climbed the fence, without a pass), got drunk out of bounds and was brought in and lodged in a cell again. Someone is in trouble for selling sweepstake tickets and not turning in the money or giving receipts.

August 9: Last night a CSM and a Sgt QM had a long and bitter fist fight out behind the Sergeants' Mess, and the QM won. Chapman and Mulvaney were brought in unfit for duty and lodged in a cell. A dance in the Sergeants' Mess tonight, the entire garrison is talking about the fight between the CSM and the QM

I scrubbed, my webbing tonight and blancoed it, what infernal humbug!

August 10: Eric is a notoriously poor letter writer and has been hounding me to answer Coutt's letter, so I finally did. Our meals are picking up lately, there is catsup and prepared mustard on the table, and twice in one week we had coffee, and once we had roast pork and a small piece of pie.

Tonight I saw "Tobacco Road" at the Carib. I was very disappointed in it. The characters did not have a single redeeming feature, they were represented as shiftless, lazy, thieving, quarrelsome, trifling, vicious people.

August 11: I start on a week of forenoon shifts. Supposed to be on MQ, but Koppen went into the hospital. So Kudlovitch and I are taking hour about on the gate. The work of constructing a cairn or memorial for the Regiment to be erected at the Battalion Orderly Room is going ahead. Some native stone masons, called locally "bricklers", are shaping limestone blocks with hammers. I have seldom heard so many cynical remarks about any project, the commonest one is "who wants to be remembered for the time we spent here?" I got two letters today from home, both mention Ruth Harper's death and funeral, very sad. I'm sure Cordelia will do a good job taking care of the children. Robert is lucky she is available.

August 12: I treated my bed for bugs with coal oil, and left my biscuits and blanket out on the hot cement to bake. Tonight, George Stevenson and I were invited to Adjutant Tucker's home for supper. He and his wife run the Institute for the Blind. We had lemonade, looked through the garden again, examined their collection of carvings of Jamaica hardwood, and ate a delicious supper. Then we looked at pictures Tucker threw on a screen with a projector in natural colours, some lovely scenery. Then we played Chinese checkers, the old way, and the new streamlined style, and also a new way, torpedo, that Mrs. Tucker had invented. Started talking about books, and the Adjutant presented me with a copy of "Tom Cringles Log", the true life story of one of Jamaica's most notorious characters. I was very pleased to receive it and will certainly read it when I get time.

The Tucker's have a dog called Gypsy, an old English sheep dog, they make a great fuss over her. They have been married two years but have no family. They are certainly hospitable people. But all the way back to barracks, George could not think of anything but Peggie Palmer. The minute the War was over he was coming back to win and woo her. I said the war might last for years! He said he didn't care, he was sure she would be waiting for him! I tried to warn him that life is uncertain at the best of times, and he musn't be so certain that she would still be here.

August 13: Molyneaux is in the guardhouse waiting for a court martial. Holden is in detention. Bratchel and LeBlanc are doing first field punishment, two hours of pack drill a day, carrying 60 lb. packs. The bugle band had started up again for playing retreat, same as it did in Fort Osborne. We had another kit inspection today. The monument at B.O.R. is nearing completion. The show in camp tonight was "The Lady and the Mob", a crazy thing.

August 14: CSM Caldwell of D Company was up before the Colonel because he was always borrowing money from privates and never paying them back. He got a severe reprimand and was ordered to pay everyone back. I got a parcel from the Pipestone Patriotic Society, it was very kind and thoughtful of them. George Montroy gave me some pictures taken at Dunns River Falls, turned out very well.

August 15: I was one of the armed escorts who went to the Bank with the Paymaster, we carried loaded revolvers. Pay parade before dinner. Heavy showers in the afternoon. Eric got a letter from Coutts, he was not married at time of writing, had some trouble with new regulations re: marriage, which say a soldier must have his CO's written permission with him.

Finch unfit for duty. NAAFI reading room raided for gambling. I am on patrol tonight at Crossroads. Spiers and Stratton on charge. Stevenson at the Palm Beach got a cut on the head and smashed elbow.

August 16: After dinner, George Stevenson and I went down to Lacey's on Water Lane. I bought some Lignum Vitae carvings, a very heavy shower fell. Sgt Wold rode back with us on a streetcar to camp, and got some severe electric shocks on account of the rain and the Sgt having his steel heel plates on bolt heads in the floor of the streetcar. Tonight Trevor showed me a six foot crocodile hide he and Montry had bought between them for 50 shillings to take home. I wrote letters home.

August 17: I was runner in the Guard Room today, a band concert, some good music. A heavy shower of rain after dinner. Tiny Martyn was not to be found when the post office phoned saying mail was in, so Maybury and Geekie went down for it, brought it back and locked it up. Yates brought in a U.S. Marine for supper, he was from Alabama, and said the blacks here have never been taught properly how to respect white folk like in the U.S.A.

The show in camp tonight was "The Island of Doomed Men". Robideaux said, "That's us, the sooner we get out of here the betted" I got two letters, some good snaps from Isobel, cutting Jim's hair, a remarkable picture.

August 18: I started a week of night shifts on the Cotton Tree gate. I cleaned my rifle, polished shoes and brass. Packed a parcel of wood carvings and mailed to Mother. Cost five shillings for postage and insurance.

Big dance at the Springfield Club tonight, supposed to be the last dance sponsored by the Grenadiers.

August 19: Slept till four as a heavy rain poured down. Feverish preparations for the big ceremonial parade tomorrow. Mail call blew. I got several rolls of newspapers.

August 20: I only got two hours sleep after eight hours of night shift. Everyone cleaning and polishing for the big parade. A dress rehearsal was held this morning and even a ships guard call was disregarded for the first time.

The 5:00 Reveille was not very popular this morning. Molyneaux is now under open arrest and acting as duty bugler. Many say he is going to beat this rap on account of being a Mason, the same as Kay and Sutcliffe. If his trial is postponed till we reach Canada, he will be acquitted beyond a doubt, because all witnesses against him will still be here.

The guard fell in 3:40 this afternoon, and the Governor arrived at four. I was traffic police outside the enclosure altogether, so we missed the unveiling, the speeches and parade, but things seemed to have gone very smoothly. To make certain there would be no untimely interruptions, Furber, the would-be Colonel, was forcibly detained in a cell in the Guard House, but not without protest and resistance from the lunatic. All dogs were prohibited from the parade square under pain of death. A cocktail party at the Officers' Mess followed the ceremony, and again the MP's were called upon to direct traffic, examine invitations, etc. The dress for all ranks was tunics, slacks, and Field Service caps, quite a warm, uncomfortable outfit. A dance in the Sergeants' mess tonight, a camp show, but I was too tired to attend.

August 21: Had a hard time staying awake during the night. I was ever so glad to see Vick Geekie come along. He was telling me he knew old Paddy Keenan well at home, he used to be a football coach and a good one. He was also a 'model husband and father, used to hand his pay cheque over to his wife without ever tearing the corner open, and when she took and went out to shop, he would start right in washing the babies' diapers! Down here, his conduct, or his misconduct, has been such that Mrs. Baillie wrote home about it, it eventually reached Mrs. Keenan, and now Paddy is afraid to go home!

I slept till noon today. A new batch of German soldiers has been taken off a ship in the harbour, 37 in all, and escorted to the IC

Parcels came in, I got a good one from John and Kay.

August 22: This afternoon I went downtown to pick up pictures for Dick Wilson, tobacco for Dubedat, and poker chips for Leitch. Dick Wilson went to Newcastle to take pictures of the Grenadier crest on the face of the cliff on the edge of the parade square. During the night transport was called out to Ordnance. They were unloading stores from a war ship.

August 23: Blaikie came in late, unfit for duty, locked in a cell. I slept till noon, then went downtown and bought some things for the folks at home, a cane for Dad at Lacey's and a set of mahogany candlesticks carved from a huge old four poster bed that once graced a mansion on a plantation. The bed was over a hundred years old. The tree before that, was likely seventy-five years old. If that old four poster bed could only talk, what stories it could tell!

I bought a spoon at Nathan's, with the island's coat of arms on it.

Tonight, iron posts and chains are up across the Cotton Tree Gate. The white paint on the chains and hooks is still wet and a lot of it came off on my hands when I was unhooking and hooking up again to let army transport trucks in or out.

Three persons broke out of barracks after one o'clock, and threatened me. This is typical of certain delinquents who make sure they have the odds in their favor. A few minutes later our town patrol saw them and they had no passes, and gave them a break by just ordering them back to camp. On their return, they blamed me and wanted to fight, this is the typical reaction of morons after they have had a few drinks. The police truck went out four times. When I was relieved at 4:30 in the morning for lunch by Drier, he told me that two of our men in civilian clothes had gone out a second time, and being caught downtown, out of bounds, were brought in and locked up. A policeman's lot is not a happy one, or an easy one. The criminal has never been known to take the blame for his own actions, it's so convenient to blame the people who apprehend him.

August 24: V.G. is making out reports this morning in the Guard House I slept through till two, when I was awakened by Oakie, with five letters for me. The wheat crop at home has been damaged by rust, and Dad is having an operation for gloucoma to save his sight. The show in camp was "Ramparts We Watch", 1914-1918, actual historical facts.

August 25: After being on duty all night, I was up all forenoon as a witness, when the three who tangled with me at the Cotton Tree, were up on orders. They all got seven days detention. They are all threatening revenge when they get out. A pleasant prospect to look forward to. Then I went on duty at three, for a week of 3-.11, as runner in the Guard Room.

Photo taken by Dick Wilson in Jamaica

A halt on a route march in the in the hills, New Castle, Jamaica 1940

The new guard crossing the bridge on their way to the LC. to relieve the old guard for 24 hours. Lieut. Harper leading.

Changing guard at the I.C., Kingston, Jamaica 1940. There were 3 shifts about 20

duty at one time.

OUR POLICE FORCE:

REAR: Wharf, Silky, Thomasson, and Grace (with moustache), Hardisty, and Frobisher, Leach, Pascal, yours truly, Red Aitkens and Harvey

FRONT: McBride, La Pointe, Smith, Millar, Mulroney, Jimmy Gard and Carl Jonesson from Glenboro.

Nine of these men were killed in action or died of diphtheria.

Ceremonial parade, Col. Kay has been promoted to Bridadier and is going back to Canada. Cement parade square so hot your feet were blistering.

Crests of Regiments who had done garrison duty in Jamaica, (there were others). Note the crest of the Sherwood Foresters recruited in Nottingham and Derbyshire. Runnels "the Greek" in the shadows, he is inconsolable, his girlfriend has stopped writing him!

White Horse Vale was mentioned in "Tom Brown's School Days".

Dick Wilson, C company Grenadiers. He is brooding over the tomb of two British Officers who fought a duel over a girl who had just come out from England. This tomb is in the Hills, Newcastle, Jamaica The path called "Ladies Walk" on the way to Mt. Catherine IS STILL HAUNTED!

Pay day at New Castle, in the hills! The three on the left, all over 50 are all Irish, spent many years in the Iniskillan Fusiliers, all heavy drinkers, a terrible headache for the garrison Military Police. The young fellow with bottle was Tuckett, an apprentice cook, he dearly regretted getting mixed up with these old rogues. The scoundrel reaching for the glass took part in the rebellion in Ireland, he used to sing: Oh the young recruits are shaking, and they'll want their beer today. After hanging Danny Deever, in the morning! Do you hear the quick step play? The regiments in column and they're marching us away.

The old cannon dates back to the times of Nelson. George Coutts is on the right in the dark shirt. He was the handsomest man in the Grenadiers. He was from Elva, Manitoba. In later years he became a very successful cattleman. New Castle, Jamaica, B.W.I. 1940

The Leaning Tower of Port Royal, Jamaica, B.W.I.

Ready to go on "point duty" traffic cop Sunday Church parade, K.D. uniform was so stiffly starched by coloured laundry it was just like cardboard, no air could penetrate, very hot. I had been ordered to serve on G.M.P. you have no choice, nothing was worse than policing your own men.

Up Park Camp, Kingston Jamaica, 1940.

"Open order", centre rank stands firm Col. Kay inspection of the troops, Jamaica

Up Park Camp Kingston, Jamaica, barracks. No springs in these beds but a brass plate saying "Made in England, 1910". Three separate biscuits for a mattress, stuffed with hair, fibre off coconuts, not firm, hard! If you did not sleep under the net you could be up on orders, on account of Malaria Mosquitoes. If you came in off the midnight shift and sat on your bed it would collapse, some foul fiend had pulled the pins half out that held the legs, the net or bar would tear off the ceiling and fall on you, it was full of ravenously hungry bed bugs. In the morning you went to the stores , you had to beg the Q.M. for loan of a stepladder to fasten your net to the ceiling again! You had to sign for the ladder, if it wasn't returned promptly you could be charged for it. That was the Army in 1940. My locker on the wall had millions of little red ants in it, one of the Shropshires had spilled jam in it When we arrived the Shrops had to leave, south to Curacao.

H.M.S. Ajax, one of the British Navy's fighting ships.

H.M.S. Ajax ready to catapult a plane into the air.

The Graf Spee was scuttled on the evening of December 17, 1939 in the harbour of Montevideo when she was blockaded by H.M.S. Ajax and H.M.S. Achilles. South America claimed to be neutral but gave sanctuary to our enemy. The Graf Spee had previously suffered heavy damage in an encounter with H.M.S. Exeter and H.M.S. Achilles.

Chapter 4: HONG KONG DIARY and MEMORIES OF JAPAN

We left Jamaica on September 13th, 1941, and reached Canada on September 21st. Had fourteen days furlough and left Winnipeg on the 27th; reached Vancouver on the 27th, left the harbour the same night on the Awatea and sailed on the 28th.

Saturday, November 8, 1941: Aboard the Awatea, somewhere on the Pacific. Left Vancouver October 28th; we now know we are bound for Hong Kong. Our fresh water is rationed. Tonight the usual poker and bingo games going on — very warm. C9 serves as dining room and bedroom — hammocks slung in rows above our tables.

November 9: Lecture by Captain Crawford on the hazards we will encounter in the way of diseases, plagues and germs in general. According to bulletin, tension between U.S. and Japan is at its height.

November 10: Drill in the Bren and lecture on signals. PT every day. Some big money has changed in crap games. Nazis have been stopped in front of Moscow. We are away off the sea lanes, have not seen a ship for days. Robinson commended for observing a rocket flare from a friendly sub during the night. . . If the Army doesn't teach a man anything else, it ought to teach him to appreciate civilian life once more.

November 11: Fatigues. Observed two minutes of silence.

November 12: Tugby, CSM of HQ Company is very Regimental; had C9 turned upside down and all men washing, scrubbing, and polishing while in a lather of sweat in the close, moist heat.

November 13: We sighted land early this afternoon, dim and hazy on the horizon, like a heavy cloud bank at first, but gradually growing more distinct. It was the Philippines, on both sides of our ship, could distinguish tremendous breakers crashing white against the foot of the craggy coastline. A lecture on the importance of discretion on our part while in Port at Manila. Tonight there is no blackout on the ship. We can see faint lights on the shoreline; one of the crew died early this morning; was buried at sea.

November 14: We are right among the islands, they are something similar to the West Indies in appearance; now there are sampans, a whole fishing fleet of them with their odd, rectangular sails of matting; aeroplanes overhead, and considerable Naval traffic, harbour patrol boats. We pulled inside a long rock and concrete sea wall that is built around the outside of Manila harbor. Inside was a large part of the U.S. fleet. Destroyers and battleships, subs and three very fast torpedo boats that shot past in a smother of foam. After taking aboard pilot and customs officers we docked about 9. HQ training periods went on as usual while we lay in harbor, while some speedy U.S. fighter planes played and dived over the ships and the port. We took on oil and water before pulling out. This evening we seem to be sailing straight into the sun. The islands are very mountainous, always their peaks are shrouded in the clouds, a contrast to the open sea where clouds are rare.

November 15: We are in the China Sea, veering nor-west, a rolling swell. We have two escorts this morning, one on each side. We drew our rifles and tin hats today. Last night we saw a great display of searchlights from the islands we were leaving. They were making the V for victory sign in the sky. Tonight we are out of sight of land and the sea is rough and some heavy showers have fallen.

November 16: (Sun.) Most of us were up at four this morning as there were the usual fatigues. We sighted China's shores as the dawn broke and we passed the island in the mouth of the Pearl River and reached the dock about 7. The harbor was full of small craft. When we came down the gangplank the first sign I noticed was a warning against bathing in the harbor on account of cholera. The dock police were turbaned East Indians. We formed up on a square close by to the music of a Pipe Band of the Royal Scots who are garrisoned here. We marched through the City of Kowloon to the Hankow barracks about three miles. We saw our first rickshaw pulled by a trotting coolie. Our huts are built of concrete. We have the same style of iron beds we had in Jamaica with 1910 stamped on them. The mattress is in three separate pieces known as biscuits, two blankets and sheets. One Canadian dollar is worth $3.24 in Hong Kong money at the NAAFI (the British Army Canteen), but $3.60 through the proper channels.

November 17: A great relief to sleep on a bed (even if it has no springs) after weeks on a hammock. I sent a wire home, it cost 2 Chinese dollars. We have the same type of mosquito bars over our beds as we had in Jamaica. This is the cool season. One side of our garrison fronts on the bay and mud flats where we see natives digging for clams or some seafood. There are four main concrete drains crossing our area. Where they begin they are only several inches deep but where they empty into the Bay they have gradually deepened till they are eight feet deep. In the heavy rains that followed we were to see these drains full and overflowing from one end to the other and even a certain individual swimming in one on a wager.

November 18: Tonight Geelde and I went out on a midnight pass. The streets and sidewalks resound to the clatter of wooden sandals. The main streets of Kowloon are quite wide, no street cars, a lot of buses, some bicycles and rickshaws. Saw a show at the Alhambra

November 19: We heard our copies of Hong Kong newspapers we had tied up and stamped and addressed will not be sent home today or any day! Why? Must pay 20 cents for boat mail letter home or $2.50 for air mail. A Chinese shoemaker is taking orders for handmade shoes, he traces the outline of their feet on paper. Chinese women with glossy black hair tightly combed and strained back from their brows and coiled in a snug little knob at the back of their head, secured with a large brass pin, wearing dark, drab garments, a sort of smock and trousers that reach between the knee and ankle, are squatting at the doors of our huts, sewing patiently away, shortening our slacks, shorts, etc. Few can understand any English. We have been warned against using fans in our huts for fear of wasting electricity. We hear the Japs are only 23 miles away on the other side of the hills. The by-word here and all through our outfit, the stock reply to all hopeful, or longing wishes, or ambiguous statements is "That will be the day!", inevitably it is overworked and has grown stale with too frequent usage. Tugby is certainly a Regimental CSM and few appreciate him. Today almost all the Officers and NCO's went to the island of Hong Kong to inspect defenses. Old Joe Hopper was acting CSM for the day. Jimmy Young, Orderly Officer, and Ballingall appointed himself the Adjutant! We took all our beds apart and painted them with coal oil to discourage the bedbugs which never tasted Canadians in this colony before and seem to find them most satisfying. We had a swimming parade to the Y.M.C.A. Back to barracks for supper, Prairie and I cleared up dishes after.

November 22: We were told when our Brengun carriers came in we would be using them to patrol the border of Japanese occupied China. Geekie and I went downtown on the bus, crossed on the ferry to the island of Hong Kong, saw some fine modern stores and buildings there and double-decker streetcars. An Englishman in a car picked us up and drove us up the steep winding road to 15 Peak Mansions. His name is William F. Simmons. He was ordered by the government to send his wife and family to safety. They are now in Victoria, B.C. Wonderful view of the harbor from peak. We had supper at the Y.M.C.A. and took in a show at the Star Theatre. "A Guy, A Girl and a Gob". Very funny. Victor Geekie is one of the finest men I've met in the army, a wonderful sense of humor.

November 23: This colony is greatly overcrowded by refugees from the war torn interior of this immense country. Thousands eat and sleep right on the sidewalks and eke out a miserable hand to mouth existence. I have ridden on a double-decker or two story street-car. I haven't seen a donkey or a mule, or a dog or cat since arriving here. I strongly suspect the natives have eaten them all. The only animals I have seen are the mounts of the Cavalry Squadron ridden by dark bearded riders who wear turbans.

There is a lot of paper money in use here, 1 cent bills, 5 cent bills, 10 cent bills, 1.00 bills and 10.00 bills. Most of it is frayed and ragged and filthy and full of holes, and pasted and patched to hold it together. The only silver I've seen is five and ten cent pieces.

The coolies are the beasts of burden here, their usual system is to balance a bamboo pole across their back or shoulders with pails, boxes or baskets hanging from each end. Many are barefoot and travel at a slow jog trot, but some wear sandals or wooden clogs. Women seem to share in the most arduous toil, even in masonry or building construction. Small babies are carried on the backs of their mothers, or of even small children inside the fold of their garment.

One side of our barracks enclosure fronts onto mud flats which are highly odoriferous, and when the tide is low, hundreds of natives are out wading and digging up to arm's length for clams, I presume. A great fleet of their houseboats is always anchored or floating aimlessly about with a whole family aboard. On the other side back toward the mainland is a high range of hills, quite steep and precipitous, some sparsely covered with scrubby growth that seems to have curiously little foliage. I asked, and was told it is a species of Chinese evergreen. Other hills are completely barren of any growth, just the clay and rock, ugly and gaunt, and devoid of any sign of life.

On the island, on the seaward side, the only dairy farm I have heard of, had to have turf imported at a tremendous expense, to clothe the hillside and provide sustenance for the cattle. The only way they can provide a supply of water, was to make a reservoir, by damming a small stream that is a raging torrent for a Month in the rainy season and then dry for the rest of the year. I have been told that trees would grow here but fuel is so scarce and the demand so great, that woodland has been ravaged and denuded, and erosion is ruining all the steep hillsides.

Sunday. Instead of church parade, we are loading and unloading ammunition and cleaning Bren guns which are packed in grease. This Crown Colony of Hong Kong is greatly overcrowded due to the influx of refugees from Canton as a result of the Sino-Japanese war. People sleep on the sidewalks by the thousands. Talking to an Englishman who had been here for nineteen years and appears to be very fond of the place, but he claims everthing was better in every way in the good old days. Liquor was cheap and plentiful then and all the maids were fair! Tonight fifty-six men went to hospital. The meat was bad at supper. I did not partake of the viands as I had smelled it first.

November 24: Some of our men sent to the island. Weather is quite chilly, showers are cold. Quite cool and cloudy today, we have been wearing our cardigan sweaters under our brown khaki combination overalls that we wear on training periods. We are on a swimming parade to the Y.M.C.A., the water was quite cold so we did not stay long. There is a large hall connected with the Y where they occasionally put on films. There is also a restaurant which is reputed to serve good meals at a reasonable price.

I tried to send you a local newspaper as a curiousity but it was returned, we are not allowed to mail them out of here. Don't worry about me, I can't get much further away without getting closer home . . .

November 25: A number of us were ordered to be ready to move to the island. Wilson got a telegram from Jamaica.

November 26: Fell in, marched to Ferry, sailed across the Bay, landed, had a very steep climb up the hills to Wanchai Gap where we took up positions on the roads at different points. Night rainy and windy, 2 hours on and 4 hours off.

November 27: Everything damp, including ourselves; there is a constant stream of natives toiling up these hills, cutting great bundles of ferns and brush and toiling down again with their burdens.

November 28: Struck camp. There is a species of deer in these hills called the barking deer; they are quite small, only weigh about 40 lbs. They are preyed upon by packs of wild dogs that use these hills as a refuge. The leader of these packs is an Alsation. In the hills on the mainland, wild boars still live. We returned to barracks on the mainland by suppertime.

November 29: Vick and I went downtown and crossing to the island shopped around in the Emporium, a large, modern departmental store. After supper with Leitch and Bob Grace, we were caught by a blackout and cessation of all traffic. Watched one plane coming over practising dropping flares and tear gas bombs. It was payday today, so a wild night. A riot in the Sun, 70 men of HQ still absent from quarters at 10 o'clock.

November 30: All men confined to barracks. Carrying ammunition from central store to Company stores. Ordered to pack kits. Rumours are rife; that there has been a clash on the border during night, etc. Dispatch riders are dashing about, and trucks and field pieces are starting up the mountain roads toward the New Territories. I mailed seven Christmas cards today. Fatigue parties are loading magazines tonight.

December 1: Monday. The Royal Scots loaned us one old Bren gun universal carrier and we had a lecture on it. Each Company sending a platoon to man posts on the island.

December 2: Vick Geekie is taking up a course to become a PT instructor. We have been allowed turns driving the old carrier backwards and forwards with most emphatic cautions to be careful. Our Officers are afraid we will break some parts and be charged with them before the carrier goes back to the Scots. Our Regimental charges are going up by leaps and bounds. Nearly 9 Hong Kong dollars now.

December 3: Lectures on field signals for use in carriers. We have sections of men parading, pretending they are carriers! Then a lecture on poison gas. Some of our driver mechanics are working on the old carrier hoping it will hold together so we can practise with it.

December 4: Lessons in turning the carrier around without stalling or killing the motor. The outside track falls off in pieces when we turn.

December 5: Lecture on new anti-gas equipment of cape and hood and detecting assembly of tippet and white an yellow paper slips.

December 6: We had a gruelling session of squad drill under the lashing tongue of a Lieutenant, the same squad drill we performed at Minto Armories in 1939. Went out in the evening with Victor Geekie and saw a show called "The Long Voyage Home". Crossed to the island and went up to the peak in a cable car, 1205 feet above sea level in 8 mins., at an angle of 45 degrees. It must have cost a million to put up the barracks on the Peak, they are huge, massively constructed buildings. After descending we went to the Queens Theatre to see "My Life with Caroline" starring Ronald Coleman. Very entertaining.

December 7: Confined to barracks, all ranks, moving stores, loading ammunition. Fell in alter dinner, marched to ferry, landed, climbed the steep road to Wanchai Gap. Erected tents, then the Brigadier ordered that the big marquees we had worked so hard to put up must come down. We could sleep in pup tents but there were not enough, so most of us slept under the stars. We heard distant rumbles of Artillery during the night.

December 8: Monday. We are at war with Japan. Just after breakfast, the siren started to wail a warning, then we heard planes, but could not see them, then great water spouts four in a row in the harbor close to a big freighter, our Ack Ack opened up. On a wiring party last night and all day today.

December 9: Worked all night moving stores from Mainland across by ferry and up into hills, then no place to put them out of the rain. Great quantities thrown on the ground, this continued throughout the day. Our old parade square bombed and the Jubilee building was hit. Some Chinese killed and several Rifles wounded. We are on road positions. Raining, wet and cold.

December 10: We hear Artillery fire from the Mainland where the Royal Scots and Middlesex are holding up the Jap advance. Imperials have fallen back to their second line of defense. Our meals are very scanty.

December 11: While on night shift, we heard a whistle and scream as the first heavy Artillery shell from the mainland reached our island. Counted eight separate ones. An attempted invasion this afternoon by a fleet of junks from an island to our south was foiled by some of our gun boats who sank seven of them and drove the rest away. An Artillery duel going on now. Six Jap bombers flew over at 3:35 and dropped bombs. Kowloon has been bombed, some parts are burning. The echoes of the report of our big guns rock and roll around these peaks like thunder. The air raid siren has been sounding almost constantly these days. Some of the boys have been raiding our stores piled in the open and we tasted our Xmas puddings a little earlier than usual. The Quartermaster will be getting gray hairs thinking of the bales and boxes of clothes and shoes lying out in the rain.

December 12: On a wiring party all day. We heard that the U.S. has declared war on Germany, Italy and Japan.

December 13: Heard that when the fleet of junks was invading they got so close, the Starret boys of A Company sunk several with Vickers fire. A number of fifth columnists have been caught quite close around here and taken blindfolded to HQ Some disguised as Coolies, some as ARP Wardens. A launch came across from Kowloon supposedly bearing Jap delegation.

December 14: Quiet night, heavy artillery this forenoon. A hit made on gasoline dump at crossroads. It did not take fire but is rapidly running away. Some of the boys have young beards.

Heavy shelling this afternoon. Shrapnel dropping around us. The fragments are quite hot, ugly, jagged pieces of metal. Quite a number of planes going over dropping bombs and propaganda leaflets at the same time. The literature is directed towards the Indian troops, a picture of John Bull sitting on a suffering elephant. The cable has been sabotaged so we are cut off except by radio. Parts of Kowloon burning. Very cold here during night. Must be the altitude and the damp.

December 15: Our water supply very inadequate. We are lucky when we get two meals a day. A lot of Jap planes over. Relieved of our post, moved into 555. A lovely house, the owner is gone, but his coat of arms is emblazoned over the mantel piece, a shield with two dolphins in one upper corner, a diagonal bar with three Fleur-de-Lis on it and two linked rings below. But we had no chance to sleep, we worked all night filling sandbags and carrying them to build a barricade around the Officers Orderly Room.

December 16: Food seems harder to get all the time. We have drawn our emergency iron rations, but were ordered not to touch them till we had been without food for two days. There is a small radio in this house, we heard some Christmas carols. Went out this evening, filled sand bags till 1 o'clock.

December 17: Heard from an American station we were besieged on this island but could hold out indefinitely? Rumours are running around these hills that the Japs are proposing terms again today. Heard tonight of a proposed raid on Lama Island.

December 18: Project awaiting confirmation by the Brigadier; a huge fire down on the edge of Victoria City. An oil dump has been hit by Jap bombs. A vast cloud of black smoke covering most of the sky and billowing ever upward.

I cannot bring myself to write about what happened between the 18th and the 25th. All I can say is that I saw too many brave men die, some were my best friends and died beside me.

When we were ordered to lay down our arms on Xmas Day, I was filled with a huge disgust with everything. I gave my diary to Colonel Sutcliffe to keep for me.

It's hard to put into words our feelings when we heard the Governor of the Colony had surrendered to the enemy. I saw some men break down and cry like children, "What, surrender now," they sobbed, "after all the good men. we've lost?" (We had 137 men killed). Others cursed and raved, as though delirious. Others, like myself, were stunned, dazed, apathetic. I have never dreamed it could happen, up to the last moment until Lieutenant Corrigan (The Fighting Irishman) ordered us to lay down our arms. I had hoped, prayed, and yes, believed a miracle would happen. Surely there must be aid for us not so far away, what about all the rumours of Chiang-Kai-Chek leading a Chinese army down through the new territories? What about. .. ? Ah well, here's one Lee Enfield that no Jap will ever use against us. I released the bolt, slipped it out and flung it into a deep rocky ravine 200 feet below.

Prisoners of War at Mount Austin Barracks on December 25, 1941; moved to Peak Mansions 9:30 pm December 26th; moved to Hong Kong University December 27th; moved to Victoria Barracks December 28th.

December 30th, 1941: Had an early breakfast of 1/2 cup of tea and a large spoonful of beans, left Victoria Barracks about 7, moved by slow stages down to the ferry where we saw a large number of bodies floating in the water, ferried across and had a long round-about march to Shathshuipo barracks where we found everything in a state of ruin and desolation. After we left, the Chinese had systematically looted and destroyed - the biscuits we slept on had been torn to pieces and the coir stuffing scattered everywhere. Not a window remained in a hut, nor a door, even the brass faucets were gone, while the pipes had been torn out of the washrooms, and every scrap of wood that could be torn away from anything was gone, even the seats of the toilets. A scene of utter chaos such I never thought to see. Very short of rations. Tonight each man got 3 hard tack crackers and 1/3 of a tin of bully. Some of the boys are sick.

December 31st, 1941: Spent a restless night, though bone tired. An Imperial Staff Sgt lay outside dying of an internal hemorrhage and calling for help. Some of his friends knelt beside him, they said he could not be moved. They carried him away in the morning, when he was dead. Inside our hut, big Tiny kept us all awake with a terrible cough. Each man got three hard tack crackers for breakfast, the same for dinner. We are cleaning up the huts, and the grounds, sweeping up the broken glass and the shattered mortar and dirt and refuse of every description, the same as we did at Murray barracks and the University and Victoria barracks. Tonight we had our first taste of rice. There is a great pillar of smoke and a glare in the sky, must be from the oil fire that has been burning for the past week.

Chapter 5: 1942

January 1st, 1942: Quite cold in our windowless, doorless hut, very windy. Dust and ashes are swirling around from the remains of the rubbish fires which burned all day yesterday around our huts. Men are grouped around little cooking fires trying to boil water to make tea. A chill cheerlessness pervades the camp. Some Chink peddlers trying to sell some native food through the wire, the sentry chased them away. The sun is shining but it has no warmth. Cpl Fox has dysentry. Roll call at 9:30. Breakfast a cup of half-cooked rice without any salt. No dinner. My worldly goods are indeed few, I have the clothes I stand up in, one change of cotton underwear, one haversack, and water bottle and my steel helmet. My packsack and all my personal belongings plus my two kit bags, one of which contains $25.00 in Canadian money, are all over on the island up among the peaks. Some at house No. 555; some at 529. Our rice tonight was only half-cooked, yet it was burnt! Strange, today every man was asked his age and previous occupation. Chilly this evening.

January 2: A very cold, miserable night. Wrapped up in one blanket and oilskin gas cape, but shivered all night. Everyone trying to find something to cover our windows.

January 3: Another shivery night. Major Baird gave us a pep talk telling us not to get downhearted this morning. A Middlesex team beat the Royal Signals 4-0 at football. They must be eating better than we are.

January 4: Sunday. Roll call at 8:30 and Church Parade at 12. A number of Indians are moving out of camp. We are going to get some of the coir they left behind and pick it over for our beds. The main topic of conversation is food, and once Jenkins struck an attitude and declaimed:

You may live without books—

What is knowledge but grieving?

You may live without hope—

What is hope but deceiving?

You may live without love—

What is passion but pining?

But where is the man who can live without dining?

At the Church Parade, the Royal Scots Padre took the service. His text was, "Ye are they who came out of great tribulation."

In Hong Kong, the day never passed without the camp staff or the guards inflicting sheer wanton cruelty on helpless innocent Chinese civilians. The guards loved to practise Ju-Jitsu on 10 year-old boys; to make old women kneel for hours in the middle of the road at Shamshuipo, while at North Point Camp. Whenever any Chinese women attempted to gather firewood on the high hills above the camp, the guards used them for target practice, taking turns firing, laughing and joking. The camp was on the very edge of the water, there was always a lot of small craft in the Bay. A small rowboat with two women in it came just within rifle range; an Officer was making his rounds, he seized a rifle from a guard and fired, one of the women dropped her oar and sank forward in the boat, the other rowed frantically to get out of range. Cold, calculated butchery, that's all it was. A Chinese girl, about 18, was tied to a tree for two days for gathering firewood close to camp.

Close to Bowen Road hospital, two Chinese were wired to trees, soaked in waste oil and set on fire. Their screams were terrible to hear.

Now we are Prisoners of War back on the mainland in Shamshuipo barracks.

January 5: I got my diary back from the Colonel this morning. Lack of personal kits is proving a great handicap and inconvenience. Few men have any soap or razors. The problem of feeding 5,000 men, Grenadiers, Royal Rifles, Royal Scots, Middlesex, Hong Kong volunteers, Hong Kong Singapore Royal Artillery (the latter were Hindus) all big men with turbans and bushy black beards, was a difficult one. Old gas drums had their heads knocked in (or out), they were propped up on stones, a fire lit underneath and rice boiled that way, a cupful morning and night, no salt, a most insipid mess. The fortunate few who have money can buy over the fence from the Chinese a few things like buns and canned goods that really help. I'll never forgive myself for leaving $25.00 in my kit bag up among the hills on the island. We had a lecture from Baird, he advised us to make wooden clogs or sandals to save our shoes. The Imperials have all had a pay of $10.00 since they came in this camp, but we haven't been paid a cent.

January 6: The Japs put on a band concert. We were invited to attend - or else. Not to be outdone, what was left of our band, along with the remainder of the Royal Scots band, got together and played a few selections. This afternoon the Japs found a house nearby that contained a lot of furniture looted out of these barracks by the lower element among the Chinese, and ordered them to bring it back and throw it over the fence. Tables, chairs and fire pails, trunks, etc. A number of our men are going sick with dysentry. It is raining this evening, a mournful drizzle.

January 7: Indians digging a grave for one of their fellows who died during the night. There is a tremendous lot of traffic on the road that runs across the face of the hills behind our camp and up into the New Territories. Traffic seems to run equally both ways but the general belief is the Japs are taking everything of value out of this Colony and forcing the Chinese to leave too. There were thousands of refugees here before the hostilities began. They are worse off than we are now. Their plight is pitiful. All on foot, women and little children and babes in arms, climbing the steep rocky road over the mountains, their worldly goods in a bundle on their backs, retracing the same road down which they had fled not so long before, hoping for safety and protection from a brutal conqueror. What possible hope would they ever have of reaching Chinese occupied territory? Asked the Imperials who knew this country, what lay on the other side of that bare and rugged mountain range? Miles and miles of impassable swamp. Men make wars, women and little children pay for them in untold suffering.

January 8: A cold night. McBride has four pieces of shrapnel in his head but must wait for an X-ray before operation. Some of the Chinese troops escaped so now the slaps are forcing them to build for themselves a strong wire bull pen, when finished they will be herded into it.

January 9: The camp is full of rumours. It's amazing the way men will repeat rumours that they know in their hearts are too good to be true. There is no place on earth so full of wishful thinking as a POW camp. It's like drowning men grasping at straws, or like men repeating things as if by mere repetition they could make them come true; make facts out of fancies. The Japs are doing everything to discourage peddlers who sell around the fence. I saw a sentry administer a brutal beating to a ten-year-old kid, who could hardly crawl away afterward.

January 10: A fine rain falling. Leitch lent me a book to read, "Of Human Bondage", the front torn off, it starts on page 158; the end, at least, was happy. A gramophone is playing "Rose of Tralee" and Helbren is producing something from his accordian in the next hut. The two main topics of conversation in this hut, and indeed in the whole camp, are food and how soon we may be free. What our first big meal will be like when we get out, and what we will do to the fifth columnists in civilian clothes, with armbands, outside the fence who beat up the peddlers. It is tantalizing to hear men talk of their favorite dishes while we dine on rice without salt, but it is exquisite agony to think of our people at home who have no way of knowing what happened to us; we hear our casualty list never went home, nor the letter each man wrote after capitulation.

January 11, 1942 (Sunday): A service was held by the two Imperial Padres. The Padre of the Royal Scots urged us to "put on the full armour of God and gather our hardihood around us and to count our blessings". I had a long talk with Dusty Dame, sitting on the smooth cement of the tennis court in the sun, with my pencil I sketched the old farm, quarter by quarter, field by field.

A Japanese hospital ship is in the harbor with 9,000 wounded Japs from the Philippines. One report claims the Japs had 10,000 casualties in taking Hong Kong, 2,000 dead, 8,000 wounded. A big mule train went away and up over the mountain trail at noon today. Rumour says the Japs are taking all metal from here, are not fortifying the place. We have no mid-day meal, not even tea and we are forbidden to drink the water here without boiling it first. Private camp fires have been forbidden, to conserve fuel for the kitchen. All lights must be out at 9 o'clock, there are not too many to extinguish, only two or three candles in each hut.

January 12: Saw Jap sentry rope and tie a Chinese boy to a lamppost. Then completely stripped two Chinese women in order to publicly humiliate them.

January 13: We had a few native beans in our rice today, but only half-cooked. I think I miss bread and butter more than anything.

January 14: The inveterate smokers are having a hard time to get tobacco. Are picking up butts and stubs and snipes.

January 15: Officers betting on probable date of our release. A few beans in the rice tonight; pale yellow and rather hard. We hear freighters in the harbor can only get up the Pearl River as far as Canton.

January 16: We had ten minutes of squad drill on the square, so we will not forget our basic training, I suppose. The Jap guards stared.

January 17: For several days the Japs have been loading sacks of salt out of a big store house (just outside our garrison) onto their trucks and down to a ship. Big 60 cats with cabs are coming in a steady stream down the mountain road dragging big guns and heavy loads. I was on guard at the orderly room during the night, yet there was nothing there but a few makeshift tables and brooms. Quite cold. Milton Dann hammered out a large piece of corrugated roofing and made a door for one end of the hut, rivetted the hinges on.

January 18: Cecil Fines birthday. Went to church service. Am beginning to detest this monotonous diet. But must eat to live. There are two bodies floating past the wharf at the corner of our compound, they are floating face down. Their hands are tied behind their backs.

January 19: A few minutes of squad drill this morning. More prisoners came in who had been in hospitals. Firewood is very scarce, rafters are being torn out of huts. No axes in camp, using picks and iron fence posts to split wood, saw one of the Rifles eating his rice out of a large ornamental hub cap off an automobile.

January 20: We did Company drill for 15 minutes this morning. Herb Millar came into our camp from hospital, wounds in his back still open. Japs clearing all our wounded out of hospitals. Thirty-nine Jap ships in harbor. Several truckloads of army stuff came in camp. The Indians nearly mobbed it. Had to be driven off, a near riot between whites and Indians. Pickets out all night patrolling between the lines.

January 21: Anew staff in the kitchen. A certain Staff Sgt let out of the kitchen as he was found feasting during the night on hard tack and butter!

January 22: Some Indians moving out today. Imperials playing cricket on parade ground, guards are maintained on kitchen all night.

January 23: Canadians moving out of this camp. The Imperials swarming into our huts as we vacate them and dragging off our few iron beds. After counting and recounting by the Japs, we started at ten, march in four hours thru Kowloon, cross to Island on the ferry, see many sunken boats on the way over with part of their funnels or smokestacks showing. Reach North Point camp, wait while some Imperials and Chinese volunteers march out to make room for us. What is left of Royal Rifles are here. We see some of our men we had given up for lost. Many of these huts damaged by shell fire. Flies are bad; dysentry prevalent. We are right on the shoreline here. Food better here, a little bully beef and some hard tack.

January 24: Saturday. A severe lecture, warned us to have our beards off in 24 hours, though few men have razors and are not anxious to lend. We were told any breach of discipline would be severely dealt with by loss of pay, detention or field punishment. The beds are old, double deckers (wooden), not enough to go around, shove two together and cram three men on top and three in bottom. Some Dutchmen came into camp tonight, captured off a sub on the 19th of December. Took all this time to get here in a tramp hogging the coast.

January 25: A parade to find out how many native born Canadians we had, now the rumours are flying that there may be an exchange of prisoners. The Navy played the Army at football, the Rifles played the Grenadiers at softball. Roll call and PT at 10:30. Another roll call at 2:30 and another period of PT These will be compulsory every day from now on.

January 27: During the night, there were several bursts of machine gun fire evidently designed to drive away marauding Chinese from the partly submerged wrecks that litter the harbor. The flies are fierce in this camp, we are forbidden to eat in our huts as it may draw the flies in more. The guards here change every hour. Cooks are trying to bake bread in kitchen but lack proper ovens.

January 28: An officer in camp has made a bet we will be home by Easter. Quite a commotion in camp tonight. Five Navy men have escaped and it is believed they actually left sometime last night, supposedly in a whaler propelled by sails. All ordered into huts and a thorough check of all camp personnel made.

January 29: A muster at Reveille and another roll call at 10:30. A few men who try to light little fires for themselves are strictly discouraged. A rumour we may be exchanged for Japs on West Coast or for their fishing fleet.

January 30: The Navy men in here seem to have lots of money, the sentries sell them cigarettes and chocolate bars.

January 31: Kit inspection, a hollow mockery. Some men were searched for Officers' clothes and equipment. A great many bets are on as to when we will be free; a pool has been formed, guesses range from May 1st to 1945. Reading "Down the Garden Path" by Beverley Nichols, one of the best I've read for some time. The guard was changed today. An open air concert tonight•, our band playing. The crew of the Dutch sub sang their National Anthem, and a sub song and a song of the sea.

February 1: A rumour Chinese guerillas are active on mainland. Small meals today, a lot of hungry men.

February 2: I dreamed I was home last night, kissing Isobel (my youngest sister). I wish now I had kissed her oftener when I had the chance.

February 3: Wild rumours about exchange of prisoners. Some fellows for a hobby are whittling or carving, some are collecting badges and fixing them on their belts. Moving all beds outside. Scrubbed both beds and huts. Half of each double rafter is being removed from each hut. This camp was originally built to house Chinese refugees. A queer mist drifting on the harbor tonight. Sentries firing on peddlers around the fence. A short lecture from Lieutenant Commander Gaspar on his experiences with Chinese Maritime customs in checking smuggling off the coast.

A Canadian caught by a sentry buying through fence, had face slapped, goods confiscated, taken before Camp Commandant. A rumour some whole meat came into camp. C Company has started a small newspaper, several sheets of typewritten matter which is tacked on the wall of hut 20. We did not get any meat, but a little gravy and, as Jenkins said, "where there's gravy, there's always meat," so someone else got it.

February 4: We have a half hour of PT every forenoon. Two Chinese have been shot and one bayonetted by the Japs for selling stuff through the fence. A little whale soup tonight. A drizzling rain.

February 5: Overcast, cold, showery. Reading "Salute to Adventurers" by Buchan, very good. For supper a sauce made from sweet potatoes.

February 6: Someone outside has loosed an occasional shot at our guards during the night. There is a blackout on the mainland and the island. Cars have blue cloth over headlights.

February 7: Another incident of sentries being fired on at a corner where they stood under a light. A lot of men have taken to chewing the pitch or tar used for roofing and men are warned at every parade to spit it out before they come on parade.

February 8: Dark, lowering clouds, drizzling drearily. On kitchen fatigue with old Bill Harkness … outdoor kitchen … smokey open fires ... soot. Puddles and pools everywhere. Chilly, clothes wet.

February 9: Trying to get some dental work done; No luck.

February 10: Another grey day. The Japs are chanting to their Sun God and doing PT Really work at it. 24 Grenadiers came into camp today from Queen Mary's and St. Teresa's hospitals. Alec Skibinski says a lot of our dead are still lying unburied around Wanchai Gap: Heard Eric Anderson's leg was saved after all. A miracle.

February 11: Rained heavily during the night. Bleak and cheerless today. Some bricks, barrels and stovepipes came in today to aid in building kitchen. A hospital ship with a Red Cross came in today, probably loaded with wounded from Singapore.

February 12: Cloudy, cold, raining. One of the boys is reading Revelations' and striving to prove that Hitler will only endure 40 and 4 months from the outbreak of his dominance which should mean his fall this summer. A lot of the men are getting lousy, no soap, no hot water, most of the men have no greatcoats and walk about with blankets around their shoulders.

February (Friday) 13: Cloudy and cold. A hot argument between Sgt Payne, Sgt Watson on Capitalism versus Labor. Ravenously hungry.

February 14: Raining again. Hospital here is cram full, thirty odd patients. Latest figures on our casualties are 137 dead or missing. There are 719 Grenadiers in this camp now, probably the same number of Rifles. Quite a number of the Royal Navy and the Dutch sub. The grounds here are less than a quarter the size of Shamshuipo. Today we were warned to turn in all cameras. I haven't seen a single one in camp.

Februrary 15: Sick as a dog . . . couldn't touch food all day.

February 16: Went into hospital with dysentry. So-called hospital was an old warehouse, no windows in east or south, dank concrete walls and floor, roof supported by six huge stone columns. It reminds me of Byron's description of the prison of Chillon. There is a makeshift stove here but it will not draw, gives more smoke than heat.

February 17: Rumour is rife that Singapore has fallen. They drench us with Epsom salts, five times a day as if we were horses.

February 18: Rained heavily during the night, the rats scurried around our pallets in the darkness.

February 19: Temple came in today. When they open the door to get rid of the smoke, they chill the whole room.

February 20: Rainy night, grey cold day. Was given a bit of hard tack, good.

February 21: Fine visiting me, he has been very kind, both in Shamshuipo and here.

February 22: A grey, cold day. More hard tack. Some of the boys taking a bath in a basin tonight.

February 23: Milder. Still overcast. This afternoon, nine of us, including old Alf Johnson and myself, were loaded in the back of a truck and taken to Bowen Road Military Hospital. It was shelled during the war and damaged badly in parts, the connecting covered bridge between the two main buildings being gutted by fire. Only the ceiling looks bad in our ward, much of the plaster is off. It leaks when it rains. I had a hot bath in a real bathtub and got into a bed with sheets! Wonderful. A Rifle in the next cot to me is very ill with dysentry. His name is Lowe, from Bury, Quebec.

February 24: Actually had two slices of bread for breakfast and some tea. Couldn't eat any dinner. We are quite high up in the hills here. A number of Grenadiers who are convalescing from wounds dropped in to say hello to me. They tell me Corporal Green died this evening.

February 25: Weather has turned very cool and raw. Green was buried at five this afternoon.

February 26: Cold and very foggy. We hear occasional rifle shots, the sentries shooting pigeons. A Naval Officer says the Japs have a division of troops, 12,000 men, guarding this colony. About 4,000 British civilians have been interned on Stanley Island across the Repulse Bay. We had cuttle fish for dinner. I could not stomach it, the suction discs on the tentacles gave me the creeps.

February 27: Very raw and cold. Some pretty nurses here. I was given a thick crust of bread for breakfast, very grateful for it. I am reading "The Good Companions" by Priestly. Very good.

February 28:Still cold. This place has as many wild rumours circulating through it as camp. Latest is that Britain has granted independence to India.

March 1: Still raw and cold. There are 11 patients in this ward.

March 2: Some Indian ghee on our bread. Very good. Similar to drippings.

March 3: A big helping of rice for dinner as a mistake was made and we drew rations for ward 6 who have more patients than ours. Quite a number of patients who were discharged from the hospital and waiting in the barrack block went down today back to North Point or Shamshuipo.

March 4: We each had a boiled egg for breakfast. Some couldn't eat theirs. Mine was stale and musty but I choked it down. Heard there is a lot of Beri Beri in North Point.

March 5: My morning egg was rotten. The first warm sunny day for some time. I sat out on the balcony for an hour this afternoon. A very skimpy supper, two wafer thin slices of bread and a half ounce of cheese.

March 6: Walked down three flights and had a much needed haircut. Sat in the sun after dinner. Tonight I was weighed, 136 1/2 lbs. Left Canada weighing 168.

March 7: Cold and dismal again, no sun. A few beans this morning, an egg tonight. Read one of Hocking's books.

March 8: A roll call at nine every morning by order of the Japs. This forenoon some Jap Officers brought in a Chinaman who accused a Sgt Major who is a patient here, of burying arms and ammunition on the hospital grounds. The Sgt Major indignantly denied the charge. This seems to be a popular method among the Chinese to curry favor with the Japs. Our eggs were rank tonight; the moment we broke the shell we knew they were rotten.

March 9: A few beans for breakfast. Finished reading "Sons of the Others" by Phillip Gibbs. Very good. An egg tonight. Very strong but forced it down.

March 10: Raining and cold. Went to dentist, Captain Fraser. Very decent fellow. Still has strong Scotch accent. Octopus for dinner. It was horrible. Truck came up from North Point with more patients. Duck egg for supper.

March 11: Soap is terribly scarce and very hard to get. Makes bathing and laundry difficult indeed. Salt is hard to get, we miss it greatly.

March 12: Talking to Eric Anderson who got a bad dose of shrapnel in both legs and one arm. He is remarkably cheerful, though both legs are in a cast from toes to knee. He has the highest praise for the two Canadian nurses who work here. (Came over with us on the Awatea). Miss Kay Christie and Miss May Waters. Short concert in one ward.

March 13: Weighed again; 134 1/2 lbs. Very dense fog during night, even harbor lights obscured. Read "The Good Earth" by Pearl S. Buck. A sordid, tragic story. The Ides of March. Misty but clearing up. Two discharged from our No. 7 ward. I talked to Benny Neufelt for awhile. He lived near Morden once. Twelve in his family, father came from Nebraska. They used to kill four pigs and an ox every fall to see them through the winter. His mother had a famous recipe for baked beans. It makes us all the hungrier to talk about these things but we can't help it.

March 15: A practise fire drill. A wild rumour that 4,000 Canadians landed in Australia to protect it against threatened invasion.

March 16: Kit inspection by the Japs. They seized all flashlights and all medical or technical books. Lowe, one of the Rifles from Bury, Que., up for a few hours today. We are getting 8 ounces of bread per day. Reading "The New Road" by Neil Munro. Very good, historical novel. The Japs have had two Chinks tied to posts by their guard room clown on the road below this hospital for a day and a night. We are only allowed hot water for washing two days a week now.

March 17: Today was Eric Anderson's birthday. I had quite a visit with him down in his ward on ground floor. He was drawing plans for a house and barn he would like to build after the war. Cuttle fish for dinner. Horrible.

March 18: Working all forenoon, sweeping, washing, and polishing, in preparation for inspection by the new Japanese Governor of the Colony. He never even walked through our ward. Japanese are afraid of dysentry. Talking to Ganton, his arm in a cast, he is planning a co-operative farm on a large scale in B.C. after the war.

March 19: Three cases from North Point went into ward 6 today. Two with Malaria and Roger Leitch with Beri Beri. He is all puffy from rice diet.

March 20: Am hungry all the time, night and day. I help carry rations regularly from the kitchen now. I read "The Glen O’Weeping" by Marjorie Bowen, a tragic story about the massacre of Glencoe.

March 21: Wash up dishes after every meal now. Drop in for a few minutes chat with Leitch in ward 6 and Eric Anderson in 9. For the first time, rice was cooked dry and increased from 3 to 5 oz.

March 22: Fine weather for once.

March 23: A little Indian ghee on our bread this morning. It's a sort of dripping, it seems more filling than butter. An Indian Artillery man died of his wounds today after lingering for months. He was buried in the steep hillside. Kelloyay of the Rifles who died here was just 19 the day before he died. Sgt Pellor just came in with tonsillitis.

March 24: Reading Hood's poems today. Heard a large convoy had reached Australia from U.S. (True or false?)

March 25: The Japs are tearing down the statues in Monument square of Victoria and Edward and melting them for their bronze.

March 26: A spoonful of soy sauce, dark brown, sour and salty, on our rice at noon. Any flavor is better than none. Four more patients in from North Point. One was Major Crawford Read "Wild Animals I Have Known" by E.T. Seton. I have not read it since I was going to school at Paramount.

March 27: I Gained a pound last week.

March 28: Eric had another operation on his leg and had a piece of infected bone taken out.

March 29: Reading one of Churchill's novels, "A Modern Chronicle", published in 1910. Cloudy, raining tonight.

March 30: Raining, roof leaking. Hens' eggs today, far more rotten than ducks.

March 31: Cold and rainy. A rehearsal for a concert tonight. Some patients going on stretchers. Dark in our ward, one bulb when there should be at least three. Roof leaking and the place has a cheerless air. Hungry, restless and my feet are cold.

April 1: A good concert tonight, but all too short.

April 2: Told today to move to barrack block as considered cured. Fifteen men left today for Shamshuipo. I was put on a working party this afternoon, given a shovel and told to fill up a huge bomb crater. Two slices of dry bread for supper. The barrack block is a large, dirty, untidy building, 13 of us in it.

April 3: General clean up.

April 4: We had two small thin slices of bread dipped in peanut oil and fried, for breakfast, very good. On working party today, pick and shovel filling in craters and shell holes, hard work, I do not feel up to it yet. Headache and backache and general weakness.

April 5: Bad attack of diarrhea, or is it a relapse of dysentry? Up 9 times during the night. This morning went to Easter service.

April 6: Dull, rainy. Warned to be ready to leave for North Point. As soon as we were packed we were told the move was cancelled. I started to read "Olive Wistwell" by Kenneth Roberts, a splendid historical novel. There are 836 pages, wonder if I will have time to finish it? Afraid not.

April 7: Tuesday. Heard this morning that Colonel Sutcliffe died last night at 7 o'clock of Malaria, dysentry and anaemia. I think myself that he died of a broken heart. The funeral was at 4 in the afternoon. Two truckloads of Officers and a few CSM's came up from North Point to pay their last respects.

April 8: We were all searched for fear we might have some hospital equipment, towels, or dishes, as many coveted the big white bowls in use here, who had to eat out of tin cans at the camp down below. After supper, we left here for North Point camp.

April 9: Back at North Point camp. We had a sort of sauce made out of Chinese dates on our rice. I went on sick parade and got excused duty for a week. (Note: In China, the pits or stones are left in the dates).

April 10: Very hot down here compared to the temperature up in the hills at Bowen Road. We had a stew made out of wild Chinese lettuce, quite flat and tasteless. Mosquitoes are very bad 'round here at night. Very hard to sleep. Buns are sourdough, very sour, flat and heavy, no yeast, hard as rock on the outside, soggy inside.

April 11: Footwear a serious problem. Some men wearing wooden sandals but majority handicapped by lack of tools.

April 13: Finally finished a pair. Very uncomfortable to wear.

April 14: The Japs are salvaging all the sunken ships in the harbor. Raising them, pumping them out, and stripping them. The double decker tramcars are running past the camp again.

April 15: The fence around our enclosure is being made higher, more barbed wire strung around us. Big Jap inspection of huts and grounds.

April 16: Clear and hot. Japs putting porcelain insulators on fence posts and stringing four heavy smooth wires inside the barbed wire.

April 17: Raining this afternoon. We hear the Navy men, 600 of them, are moving out of here tomorrow and that 75 Canadians from Shamshuipo are coming to take their place. Some of our men are selling kit bags to the sailors. For a long time there has been dealing going on.

Our men were selling buns to the Navy for three cigarettes apiece. Tonight, now that darkness has fallen, our men are shamelessly pillaging around the Navy huts, picking up and carrying off everything movable in the way of stools, chairs, tables, loose lumber, etc. It is very sad. Before it got dark, they were buying them!

April 18: A heavy sky, a drizzle with a gusty, windy drive behind it. Miserable day for the Navy to move out. They are bustling about. Some staggering under huge packs, guards posted on the vacated huts to prevent looting. The Navy spent an hour on the parade square in the rain while their packs were being searched. The first casualty on the charged wire occurred this morning. It was the Jap Orderly Sgt's own pet dog. We had thought of testing the current with Halbert's pet monkey. This afternoon 80 Canadians came in from Argule and Shamshuipo, 20 of them Grenadiers. Dick Wilson, Alec Colvin, McAuley and Sgt Marsh among the bunch.

April 19: A grey rainy day. Special muster parade.

April 20: All the Sergeants moving into one hut. There ought to be some good fights in there. A dozen Canadians came into camp from Bowen Road.

April 21: Grey and cloudy, picked up enough scraps of wire around the fence to join together and made a clothes line. Opened up a rice sack and made a sort of a hammock bed to replace the hard boards.

April 22: Some landscape gardening going on in camp. R.QMS. Beare presiding over rations, and rice has been cut. We only get 3/4 of what we did. Fish sauce tonight so vile I couldn't eat it.

April 23: A great day, our first issue of soap. One small bar of Lifebuoy divided among 12 men.

April 24: I am reading "Cheating Death" by John Young. I only hope I can manage it. A mess of boiled lettuce for dinner.

April 25: Cloudy with showers. Every night the rats run through the huts. Jenkins says they are waiting for us to get a little weaker before attacking us.

April 26: My birthday dinner - one sourdough bun and a cup of bitter tea. My birthday supper, a half portion of rice with a little whale gravy and a small patty made out of whale meat and burnt rice, but mostly burnt rice.

April 27: Raining steadily. Reading the "House of the Four Winds" by Buchan. Some boiled eggplant sauce tonight. We were issued a spoonful of salt.

April 29: An issue of laundry soap, about 1" by 2" per man. The Japs are supervising the laying of some few foundations in camp. There is some argument among our men as to whether it is a new pill box or a latrine. The Japs beat the Chinese Coolies something cruel as they work.

May 1: Lost two pounds last week. The afternoon roll call has been changed, 7:30 in the evening, owing to some men collapsing in the heat.

May 2: A Jap Prince touring the Colony, ordered to stay in our huts while he passed the camp. Japs have built a high lookout post on top of one of our huts. There is always a sentry up there with a pair of field glasses. Warned by Japs to expect air raids. We had a practise trial blackout tonight.

May 7: A movement is underway here to have ten men from this camp each speak for one minute over the radio to Canada. I may be one of the ten. Our script is to be censored first by our Officers then by the Japanese, so we will not likely recognize it when they are finished.

May 9: I was put on a gardening project with a number of others. The Jap sentries must be short of reliefs, they are practically asleep on their feet, eyes closed, heads nodding. Japs went past in trucks with green foliage camouflage on their helmets.

May 11: Out on a working party, 25 of our outfit and 25 Rifles; working on an acre and a half plot preparing it for a garden. It is gravel and clay, very stony. We are spading it, picking stones and carrying down good earth from the hillsides and putting it in long narrow trenches in which we will grow our seeds.

May 13: We had a small portion of beef stew for supper; it comes so seldom it is a great shock to us.

May 14: Raining heavily. Japs held some Artillery practise, and experimented with smoke screens. We got very wet working in the garden. The Jap sentries were holding target practise by firing on the Chinese gathering wood on the hillside. They used all their Ju-Jitsu holds on a Chinaman on the road just outside our camp until he was senseless, then they bayonetted him. When we carried our garden tools up the hill to store them away at the Jap Headquarters for the night, we saw a young Chinese girl about 18 tied to a tree in the middle of the yard.

May 16: Great scarcity of firewood for our kitchens. Reading "In Chancery" by Galsworthy. A Battalion of Japs are engaged in practising landing maneuvers with large motorized barges. Troops swimming through smoke screens to the shore. Some Artillery and Machine Gun fire. Taking movies of the whole thing.

May 17: A very hot night, mosquitoes very bad. Buns were musty at dinner, and mouldy at supper, had worms, bugs and dirt in them. Heard that six of the kitchen staff are being yanked out. Some fools scribbled their names on the new latrine and the japs threatened to tie them to a post for 12 hours in the heat of the sun.

May 18: Torrential rains today.

May 19: Rained all night and all day.

May 20: Rain again. Some very bad flour in; musty and dirty. Our buns are nearly black and taste horrible. We are supposed to be getting 10 oz. of rice per day. Downey figures we are being fed on 10 cents a day, yet our government allows $1.00 per day. What will become of the difference?

May 22: Showers all day, a little gravy for supper tonight. Where does the meat go?

May 23: Torrential rain during night. After dinner we were all drawn up on the square and with the aid of an interpreter, the camp commandant told us we must swear we would not attempt to escape while being held prisoner. This was an order from the Imperial Japanese Army, and if we did not comply, we would be severely dealt with. All the English Imperials had signed already, including General Maltby, and when our Officers signed, we signed too, because it is not a binding oath that will hold in any court of law, because we signed under duress, were compelled; also, we did not swear on the Bible.

May 27: Very hot. No tea, and the drinking water is lukewarm and so full of chlorine it upsets my stomach every time I taste it.

May 28: Restless night, mosquitoes very bad. Very hot today. The roofs of our huts were mended with tar to fill up the shrapnel holes. Now the heat of the sun is melting the tar, it drips thru onto our beds, blankets and clothes. Everyone seems to have some on the seat of their pants.

May 29: There seems to be some movement on foot regarding writing home, as a long list of restrictions regarding the writing of letters has been posted up, on the bulletin board.

May 30: Very little to eat today, but the heat helps to dull my appetite though it increases my thirst. Miss the tea terribly.

May 31: We were issued a shirt, pair of shorts and a tunic, all old and dirty.

June 1: A 20% cut in our rations makes our meals look mighty slim. Big event was a cup of tea, black and bitter, but tasting good after lukewarm chlorinated water. The huts drew lots to see who would write home first.

June. 2: 130 men drew lots for 8 mosquito nets. I was not lucky. The men who wrote home had their letters returned to them and told they must rewrite them, shorten to 200 words and not ask for a single thing.

June 3: Cool and showery. Five Rifles and five Grenadiers, including Brig. Holmes and Major Bailey and myself, took a trip today by bus to the dock, ferried over to the Kowloon side, took another bus and rode 4 or 5 miles to Jap Headquarters on the Kowloon side at Argyle Street, near St. Teresa's hospital. We each spoke a short message into a microphone and a recording was made, then the records were played back to us. It is our hope that they will be broadcast, picked up and relayed till eventually they reach Canada. We left camp at 12:30. Did not get back till 5, missed dinner, all the Japs gave us was two cups of pale, weak green tea. No cream, no sugar.

My people never heard a word from me till July 31st of 1944 when two letters arrived. One had been written in North Point Camp in '42, one in Japan in '43.

My radio broadcast was picked up and sent to my people by three people in U.S., and one in South Africa on October 20th,1944.

Why did the Japs wait from June 3rd/42 till October 20/44 before broadcasting?

May 23: (Omitted) One of the Rifles, an old man with white hair, refused to sign, that he would not attempt to escape. He was taken out of camp, came back a week later. He had been starved and beaten every day till in the end, he was forced to sign.

June 4: Men have been ordered to shine their shoes. PT is before breakfast now. A grim paragraph has appeared on Battalion Orders, that anyone wishing to make his will may do so. Japs have given us numbers of their own now. Mine is 5163. We must wear them on our shirts. Wild rumour sweeping through camp that Germany has fallen again. No buns today, 1/2 cup of vegetable soup for dinner:

June 8: A heavy, lashing rain, roof leaking like a sieve, right over my bed. Tigers on this island, one killed, four still loose. Another issue of Lifebuoy, each bar to be divided between 12 men.

June 9: Quite windy, whitecaps in the harbor. There is one large ship close to camp that the Japs have been trying to raise for the last two months, have pumped day and night this last week, it is gradually rising, they have cables to the shore to keep it from rolling over.

June 10: This morning the ship is down again, apparently sunk during the night.

June 11: We were ordered to turn in all bed boards. Japs pumped out the ship today and it really rose out of the water.

June 12: Friday. The ship sank overnight. Two men very sick with dysentry, were finally granted permission by the Japs to go to the Bowen Rd. hospital, loaded on the back of a truck, one died on the way, the other just after arriving. I wrote my letter home today. Officers and CSM's are betting we will be free in August.

June 13: Varcoe fainted dead away on roll call this morning before breakfast. Japs working all night on sunken ship.

June 14: Have raised it this morning, the highest yet.

June 15: 120 men went on a working party to Kai Tek to enlarge the airport there. It is on the Mainland. They carried a bun for mid-day meal.

June 16: Heavy rains . . . leaking roofs. Roll call inside huts.

June 18: Our PT is a pretty gruelling affair before breakfast, sun is hot and our heads are bare. Have some very interesting conversations with old Cole from Swan River and Bill Adams who used to work for Skinner at Dropmore. Both are good gardeners. This afternoon the Japs finally towed away the ship they had worked on for so long.

June 20: I was one of a large party who went out to the Kai Tek airfield on the Kowloon side, worked with pick and shovel and handled crushed stone and big bags of cement. Just before we left to come back, we were served with Zooki beans, cooked up with sugar. They are small and black and taste like a pea. Not accustomed to anything sweet for so long, made some of the boys sick. Very tired tonight.

June 22: A big shake-up in the kitchen, one guy up on orders, so he implicated everyone he could and dragged others down in ruin with himself. A scurvy trick.

June 23: Tonight the working party coming in complained of not enough to eat, and of being roughly treated by the guard.

June 24: Some firing during the night, a bullet ricocheted through camp.

June 25: Planes flew over dropping leaflets. Rumour says they are something about Harbin in Manchuria, but no one knows for certain. I was one of a party of 39 sent to Bowen Rd. hospital to cut grass and bushes around the electrically wired fence to prevent current from being grounded. We alternate daily with the Rifles in sending 200 men to work on the airfield.

June 27: Working at airport in rain, drenched to the skin, shovelling crushed rock and mixing cement.

July 2: Have been out working every second day since work began.

July 3: A big inspection of camp and huts. We were drawn up on the square, two white men in civilian clothes were with the Japs staff. They say one was the Swiss consul. A heavy rain again. For dinner, one bun and a cup of greasy water with a little grass in it.

July 4: We got our first Japanese pay for working on the airport, 30 sen worth 5 1/10th cents in Canadian currency. Bedbugs very bad. Reading "The Tudor Wench" by Elsworth Thane, the story of Elizabeth I. The small makeshift detention barracks here will not hold all the men under sentence. There is a long waiting list, enough to keep it full till Xmas.

July 10: Rained heavily during night, still raining, work party cancelled as airfield is almost flooded. Warned to fasten all doors and windows as typhoon expected. Reading "Colonel Bramble" by Andre Maurois, very entertaining.

July 11: Clearing up. Storm must have passed through, there were warning lights on the towers throughout the city last night.

July 14: Japs are building a high watchtower inside our enclosure. Rain . . . rain . . . day after day, roofs leak badly. The Sergeants have their own meals now.

July 15: Incessant rain, very depressing.

July 20: More rain. Three vessels with U.S.S.R. on their sides were towed past here tonight. Today, two barges that were in use by the sea wall (equipped with cranes, etc.) sank. They are being pumped out, and a diver is working down around them. Four men are pumping air down to him. More rain.

July 22: Rain every day. Arguments rage here day and night on every conceivable subject under the sun. In here it is hard to find absolute proof for anything to settle it. Old Cole draws endless plans of the house he intends to build when he gets home. Others figure up the cost of starting a farm.

July 23: Some fellows with a few tools are doing some fancy wood carving. McBride and Bresinsky very good at it. The garden outside so far, has only produced a few cucumbers. Cigarettes are still the principle means of barter or exchange in camp. One fag buys a bun, 2 or 3 a stew. Half of one a sweet sauce or an issue of black China tea. Boys are beginning to play softball. Coutts is a patient up at Bowen Rd. He was working on a fatigue party up there and someone felled a tree on him. Several games of horseshoes going on.

July 25: Prisoners for seven months today. One of our men was charged with using vile language towards a Staff Sgt of the Postal Corps, got seven extra days fatigues. An open air concert on the square tonight. Allister of Brigade is an accomplished mimic, really a scream in the "Fred Allen Radio Broadcast".

July 26: Work party at airfield carrying sacks of mud between two men, slung on a bamboo pole, 350 yards to the sea wall and dumping into harbor. Trudging through mud and water that often came over their boot tops. Kitoski carving out a set of chessmen. Sgt McCarthy doing some fine woodwork.

July 27: Fisher and Ward doing a flourishing business manufacturing sandals of wood, belting or leather for the Officers.

July 28: More rain. Sentries stationed in the newly built watchtowers amuse themselves with firing at any Chinese fishing craft that ventures close. Search lights probing the clouds tonight with long white fingers.

July 29: A boisterous wind, whitecaps in the bay, the fishing fleet is drifting in, wallowing deeply as they come, two small sampans were swamped in the waves. Heavy squalls of rain throughout the day. Typhoon warnings up again tonight, usual coloured lights on high towers.

July 30: Cloudy, but wind abating, all the Chinese fishing fleet of sampans and junks heading out for the open sea again, tacking back and forth against the wind.

August 1: More rain, a Lance Cpl was up on orders because he skipped a PT parade. Was stripped and reduced to the ranks. A new and smaller scoop used to dish out the rice tonight. Another man got detention for talking back to an NCO The Japs have telephones rigged to their watchtowers now.

August 6: Martin fainted on roll call today. Burch is holding forth in a theological declamation on Revelations, but Button is not taking him very seriously.

August 7: Murray and Weir have constructed a curious stringed instrument and are producing some weird sounds from it. Some confirmed gamblers who have a craze for card playing are playing for their dinners, tried to play all night by the light in the washroom but the Jap sentry chased them out. Our skins are drying up, and cracking and peeling since there is no fat in our diet whatever. A lot of the men have sore mouths due to lack of vitamins. Lukas sent to Bowen Rd. with infected throat. Very bad case.

August 8: Concert on the square. Ed Toevs masquerading as a Russian Countess, Willis sang; splendid voice.

August 9: Very hot. Terrible thirst. Taking showers three times a day. Japs still engaged in salvaging sunken ships around here. We hear the nurses at Bowen Rd. will be sent to Stanley Internment Camp.

August 10: A lot of wounded Japs coming into Kowloon and filling up at St. Teresa's hospital.

August 12: There is a lot of skin trouble in camp owing to our diet which is now nothing but starch. The working party last three days have been cutting grass on the airfield on hands and knees with a sickle. The ration party that went out and across to the Kowloon side report a big warehouse full of tons of flour and sugar.

August 14: Old Cole has erysipelas, his face swollen and bluish. Old J. Chapman sent to Bowen Rd. with Quinsey. Hear that diptheria is raging in Shamshuipo, one man dying every day, a total of 15 to date. Only one case here yet but we are warned to keep to our own areas, no mixing with the Rifles. No more softball games, nor classes nor Battalion parades.

August 15: A Jap gun boat passed our camp aided by two tugs. She had sustained some damage, a hit on the crows nest plainly visible. Four suspected cases of diptheria sent to Bowen Rd. At dinner we tackled our first fresh fruit in seven months. Each man had 1/2 of a Chinese pear, a dry woody fruit about the size of a turkey's egg.

August 18: A Sgt struck a private and then laid a charge of slander against him dated October 25th, 1941. The camp was wild with indignation when the private was given 14 days detention.

August 19: Raining, by noon the wind had risen to gale-like proportions, harbor very rough, fishing fleet coming in. Spray from the breakers flying over our huts. A wild, stormy night, hut shaking in the blast.

August 20: Wind dropped, fishing fleet went out again. Cloudy and cool. After our usual morning roll call, we had a second, and then a muster out on the square which kept us there till 2:30. Four men escaped last night. Sgt Payne, Cpl Bresinsky, Percy Ellis and Tiger Adams. They had a gun, a compass and a map, some canned foodstuffs, they climbed over the hospital instead of going through the fence. Now the Japs are putting rolls of concertina wire along the ridgepole of the hospital. We suppose the four men intend to cross to the mainland, and take to the hills, sleep by day, travel by night, and hope to reach friendly territory before being caught. The Jap officers are giving Nick, George's brother, a hard time, beating and cross-examining him. They think he ought to know something about his brother's escape.

August 21: New orders up announce that the Japs warn anyone escaping that they expose themselves to a risk of death, etc.

August 23: The sentries are vigilant since the escape and screech and howl to one another all night long. One of our Officers and a Sergeant make regular rounds looking for disturbances, and some of our own men are detailed to guard our hut for suspicious movements of our own men.

August 25: One of our men got 7 days detention because he refused to sit up at night and watch for and report any possible escapes. In the evening, Dick Trick, Milt Dann, Jack Hay and myself sit around and talk farming from every conceivable angle.

August 26: A lot of men are troubled with so called electric feet, almost impossible to describe, must be felt to be appreciated, a terrible thing, but just another symptom of diet and deficiency; right now one of our Sergeants is delirious with the pain. Some men came back from Bowen Rd. They brought the news of the death of Lucas and Chapman. The latter died on the 14th and was buried on the 15th. One of the saddest things that has happened. He had quinsey and dysentry, was a married man with four children. Chapman had always been so optimistic, so enthusiastic, his booming voice and his hearty laugh were known all over the camp. Too generous for his own good. He enjoyed life and just living so well, it was hard to believe he had given it all up for something better. He had lost a lot of weight and used to say it would be a labor of love to put it all back on again.

August 28: CSM Logan, CSM Adams and Staff Sgt McNaughton were taken out of the camp to be questioned by the Japs re: the escape. Logan is sick, a 10c, McNaughton is an old man with white hair, Adams is just out of hospital. Today the Rifles had date buns, a hard crust made with peanut oil, and ground bean flour, yet all supplies are shared evenly between the two units. We cannot help but wonder sometimes, why are the stones in the dates?

August 29: We had got nicely to sleep when the lights went on, our Officers entered, roused us and called the roll, then left and we were just asleep again when the lights went on again and six Jap Officers came in and made a bed check, then we were ordered out on the parade square, regular muster in alphabetical order. A heavy cold rain began to fall, we had had no time to dress, were in tattered underclothes, were soaked in a few minutes. We stood shivering in the wind and rain and darkness for 4 1/2 hours while the Japs counted and recounted and searched and researched huts. They are in an ugly mood and struck quite a number of us as we counted off and numbered in the ranks.

August 30: This evening the three hostages came back, they had had no beds, had not undressed, had little to eat since they left. CSM Logan had been quite ill all the time.

September 1: Two Rifles died, one with dysentry, one with hiccoughs. I will have to give up reading all together, I'm afraid, as my eyes are giving me a lot of trouble. At the instigation of Dr. Crawford, the Japs are docking the Officers pay and raising a fund to buy a few extra rations for men who are far below the average in weight.

September 2: A Jap Officer came into the hut today and told N. his brother had been captured the same day he escaped, but we can't believe it or we would have heard before this.

September 3: The hut guard last night was found asleep and is up on orders this morning.

September 4: Our buns are getting smaller all the time.

September 5: More men are getting the terrible pains in their feet and hobble around on their heels to keep their toes off the ground, can't sleep at night with the queer electric shocks that run through them.

September 6: Twice a day I draw pot permang for a queer rash on my legs called pellegra. It seems to be getting worse all the time. Doc says it is all caused by diet deficiency. Talking to Buzz Winram and the Currie brothers about Rock Lake; they used to live near there.

September 8: About 20 men took after a rat today. A Japanese, part of the Dutch sub crew, finally killed it with a shovel. The Jap sentries often wear a white cotton pad over nose and mouth supposed to check spread of colds. Now 40 of our men have been issued with them. A report came in that 120 POW have died at Shamshuipo, 70 escaped, 7 killed trying to escape. R. T. Johnston gone to Bowen Rd. with throat trouble and foot rot.

September 9: Japs went through all huts and seized all tools, all iron, steel and wood, canes, running shoes, and rain capes.

Today all men issued with bit of cotton gauze and ordered to wear it over nose and mouth. Tonight we heard L. Cpl Whillier died at Bowen Rd. with ulcers in mouth and throat. He was a very fine fellow, was in the Artillery with Victor Hart in the last war, WWI

September 11: Japs still salvaging in harbor with a fleet of tugs. Bill Harkness sent to Bowen Rd. today. He really missed J. Chapman.

September 12: Rocky Smith died in the camp hospital here during the night. He was an old Grenadier, very short (and before he was captured, very fat). Some of D Company dug his grave this forenoon across the road on a rocky hillside. Only dug 3 1/2 feet and they struck solid rock. Buried at 2 o'clock. He had dysentry, fever, throat trouble and malnutrition.

September 15: My eyes are very sore, but many men have the same thing. Nothing for it.

September 17: Old Dave Johnston talking about the Pipestone Valley. He worked for Jeffrey Lothian and for Tom Forke before he enlisted in the war of 1914-18.

September 20: Reports that 500 Imperials from Shamshuipo have been sent to Japan and 1,200 more are to follow. The weather is gradually turning cooler, especially at night.

September 21: Everyone is suffering from skin trouble, face is cracked and peeling, rash across the shoulders. Heard today that Doug Moore, Hawkes and Harkness had died at Bowen Rd. Old Bill Harkness and Cole will be together again, they were great pals, haven't been separated for very long after all.

September 23: Clearing all dysentry cases out of camp, also C Company bedded down, sending them up to Bowen Rd. Tonight each man got an ounce issue of what they call liquid yeast. Just a sour, sticky mouthful resembling flour and water.

September 24: A large number booked for Bowen Rd. have been cancelled by Jap order. 145 Grenadiers and 133 Rifles are getting the thiamine needle every day at the Medical Infirmary hut. All have sore, swollen feet. A rumour we are moving to Mainland.

September 26: Saturday. Reveille at 5, then all carried kit on to the square for the Japs to search and waited in the sun till noon before we moved off down to the ferry and crossed to the mainland, got off at the wharf near the Jubilee building at Shamshuipo. Counted again for the ninth time, and finally marched to huts, no beds, a long wooden platform along one side to sleep on, full of bugs.

September 27: Five ounces of yeast this a.m., 8 oz. of bread daily: More rice here than at North Point. Two isolation hospitals here, one for diptheria, one for dysentry. Three funerals today of Imperials. Weather hot and clear.

September 28: Every available man being grabbed for work party at airport. No hot water available in camp. Since the 13th of this month, there have been from one to three deaths every day in this camp. Japs want 640 for work tomorrow.

September 29: All men with bad feet are being taken out of hospital and fever patients put in their place. An Imperial Cpl told me of the 4,000 here, 50 had escaped, 115 died, 30 in this last month. Now 1,600 have left in a draft and our 1,400 from North Point are here. A double funeral today, a Rifle and a Navy man.

September 30: Every man was issued with a plug of tobacco, the cheapest, vilest stuff imaginable. Cpl Iverach of D Company died last night with diptheria. He was from Isabella, Manitoba, a very fine fellow.

October 1: I am helping a little with the library, tonight a regular gale and heavy rain. The guards were firing all night through at intervals of 3 or 4 minutes, seem to have the jitters in the dark.

October 2: More wind and rain. All men getting a throat swab test by Jap Medical Officer for diptheria. A big ship in harbor with white crosses on it. Another Rifle died, they have lost six since coming here.

October 4: The Japs took away Halbert's pet monkey. He has made an electric toaster and water heater, must keep them hidden at all times as the Japs confiscate on sight. Another Rifle died.

October 5: Nine Canadians died since moving here. Old Paddy Armstrong today. Clear and hot.

October 6: Another Rifle died. Battalion drawn up in hollow square, one fellow who put an onion in his pocket while on a ration party put in centre, a very solemn warning delivered by Officer Command on such conduct. Ambrose took the onion, it was meant for Officers' Mess.

October 7: Marcel Robideaux and Herb Mobb died of diptheria. I knew them well, more likeable fellows would be hard to find anywhere. We shall miss them.

October 9: W. Moore of B Company died today. A supply of diptheria anti-toxin finally arrived in camp. One bun a day, but 20 oz. of rice. A rumour has swept through camp that the boat that left here loaded with Imperial POWs, was sunk with all hands, 1,000 strong. Mass was said for them in the Roman Catholic chapel this morning.

October 11: Five men died last night; 3 Rifles, Percy Iles of B Company, and an Imperial. Like the most of the men; I am getting dozens of pellagra ulcers on my legs, my tongue is swollen and so sore that eating is a painful business. There is no salt in rice or greens.

October 12: Three Rifles died, one Grenadier. Second throat swab for diptheria.

October 13: Yeast issue has been cut.

October 14: Thomasson died, an old Grenadier, was on the old police force, it has suffered heavily. Cecil Fines did all he could for Thomasson, gave him soy sauce, etc., but all to no avail. Did his very best for him anyway. The Japs are beating up all men they see without a mask, or anyone going near the diptheria hospital. Used rifle butts on one man. Broke three ribs.

October 15: A Rifle Sgt died. A spoonful of peanut oil on rice, once a day now.

October 16: A Rifle died today, also Forbes of A Company, Grenadiers. Total deaths today were three Rifles and Forbes and Eastholm.

October 17: My eyes are giving me great pain, and there is no more boric eye wash left. At Medical Infirmary room, Japs blame death on hospital orderlies. Lined them up and slapped all their faces. Even struck Major Crawford, our Medical Officer, across the face with a rubber hose, drew blood.

October 18: My eyes are much worse, cannot open the right one at all:

October 19: Sent to camp hospital.

Looking back on my stay in camp hospital from this comfortable distance, I recall it was one of the grimmest experiences through which I passed. About a dozen of us eye cases were in a hut by ourselves. All windows were boarded up to keep out the light We had bandages over our eyes. It was torture to go out in the sun to the latrine, only a couple of dozen yards away. The doctors were far too busy with diptheria and dysentry cases to come around. The Orderlies brought our meals, but my tongue was so swollen and the inside of my mouth so sore, that all sense of taste was gone; after a few days I simply loathed the rice and the green horror which resembled fireweed or clover stalks. I would choke down a mouthful of rice and hand the plate to McLean who slept beside me and marvel at the way he ate it down. Freeman was in the hut, he had been dying by inches for a month, the Orderly said because he couldn't force down the rice and greens anymore. He passed away on the fourth day I was there. The sinister conviction slowly came over me that I would go the same way if I stopped eating. thought to myself, Freeman lasted a month; I can't hope to last much longer at this rate. I must eat next meal, two spoonsful of rice, no use, I couldn't work up any saliva in my mouth. Then—if I only had some salt, but where and how? One hope, I got in touch with Carl Jonnsen, if he couldn't get me any, no one could. He brought me two spoonfuls next day. But I couldn't even taste the salt I wondered dazedly, surely, surely this can't be the end, will I go out the way Freeman did, skin and bones, raving with his last breath about Red Cross parcels? flay in that dark hut with a throbbing pain in my eyes that never let up, but though I stopped eating after the fourth day, I had no pangs of hunger, no inclination to eat whatever I was getting weaker but could not rest or sleep for more than a few hours at a time on account of my eyes. I thought there is one thing that could save me, if! could get up to Bowen Rd. That night the Orderly said, "No more patients going to Bowen Rd." It was like a death sentence.

So I nearly cried for joy when Reid walked in on the 28th of October 1942 and announced, "All eye patients get ready to leave for Bowen Rd." I still believe that saved my life and saved the sight of the left eye and partial sight in the right one. When weighed after being a week a patient, in bed all the time, I weighed 117 lbs. The eye specialist in charge of us told me I had a bad ulcer in the right eye. After three months, it healed but, as he put it "It has left a scar tissue that is part of your eye. Your vision in that eye will always be distorted, like looking thru a bubble in a window pane."

We got our first British Red Cross parcel on November 30th, 1942. It was wonderful. The first week on the parcel, J.H. and I both gained a pound a day. On Christmas Day, we received 10 yen, a gift from the Canadian Government. Then at the end of January each man received 16 yen, but canteen prices are very high and only a small variety of foodstuffs available. The Draft of about 600 Canadians who took ship for Japan left about the 9th of January. On February 16th, we got our second British Red Cross parcel.

I wonder if Jack Hardy remembers walking or attempting to walk, the straight line in hospital while the Medical Officer watched him? And the ward did their best to keep from bursting out laughing? No more accomplished actor ever performed off the stage.

I hope Sgt Major Harvey Rose was reunited with his wife and family and that they are all in good health. He was one of the most interesting conversationalists I have ever met. Held J. and I spellbound for hours. Our ward in Bowen Rd. Hospital would have been a dull place without J. and the Sgt Major.

I left Bowen Rd. about the 14th February, 1943. I'll always remember the Captain who treated my eyes, and Sgt Anderson of R.A.M.C. who had charge of our ward. They still had a strong Scotch accent. We had some good concerts before I left, Lieutenant Londeau of the Rifles was the driving force behind most of them. All the Nursing Sisters had been taken to Stanley. I often wondered if they missed us as much as we missed them. One doctor said the death rate jumped 30% after the Nursing Sisters were taken away.

Chapter 6: 1943

February 28, 1943: Back at Shamshuipo. There are about 2,000 men of all units in this camp now. Over 700 of these are in the camp hospital, mostly with sore feet and cardiac beri beri.

March 2: A new order came out, no one under 50 can wear a beard.

March 4: On fatigue carrying bricks in bags and pulling a big cement roller.

March 5: Rumour has it that the Japs asked the Indian troops to volunteer for service with them, and when they refused, they starved them for a week until they finally gave in. Then 150 of them were put to guard an airfield in the New Territories, and one night they all disappeared.

March 6: Told on parade this evening that there is a ton of Canadian mail in the Colony for us, it has to be censored before distribution. On Sundays we get a large bun made from brown Indian Atta flour.

March 9: Tuesday. Heavily overcast, drizzling rain, on fatigue in the kitchen scouring black, burnt, greasy old pots and pans with gravel and ashes. Assisted by Walt Jenkins. His company was the only bright spot in the whole day.

March 13: Went to church, fine sermon Two Sergeants in the front pew with their shoes off.

March 16: M. F. Durant very busy shoe repairing. Weir still trying to make a stringed musical instrument. Some even hoping he won't succeed.

March 19: An issue of 1 lb. of sugar per man. Claire Purse went into hospital with yellow jaundice.

March 20: Garnet Stodgell died early this morning of dysentry, pellegra and malnutrition. Staff McNaughton has a lot of bets on re: the end of the war. Japs are making the boundaries of our camp smaller, a gang of Chinese women are working on the fence digging holes, etc. Pigs, hens and ducks have been brought into the camp by order of Tokanaga, but none ever find their way to our kitchen.

March 21: Roy Kirk got two letters from Peggy Lloyd in Jamaica.

March 22: Working in the garden, am getting badly sunburned. Bed-bugs are something fierce tonight.

March 24: We are trying to irrigate the garden, have a number of lengths of pipes, several tanks, but have not sufficient flow of water for good results.

March 25: Had my palm read tonight by charlie Dragon of the Hong Kong Volunteers.

March 28: Went to church. Sermon on Naamon being cured of leprosy, a little different to the way Billy Sunday told it in his book. Hank Lawson is talking about Oak Lake and wishing he was there. A few letters came into camp. Had been written a year ago. None for me yet.

April 1: Old J. J. Davis died of heart failure. Went to a lecture tonight entitled "God in Education". While it was in progress, we could hear strains of music and wild cries from a nearby hut where a square dance was in full swing. How can any men dance without ladies?

April 4: I went to church, then out with Lieutenant Maize who is in charge of the garden party and planted some sweet potato cuttings.

April 5: Jap sentries are trying to buy clothes from our men. Shirts, underwear and puttees. So much rain, the big drain is overflowing, after it went down we saw numbers of dead rats drowned by the rushing waters. Tonight Buzz Winram was telling me how he first started business at Pilot Mound and how his wife proved such a splendid partner and helpmate.

April 7: We were paid 10 yen today. We each donated 2 yen per man to the kitchen.

April 8: Worked in garden planting sweet potato vines.

April 9: Kamloops, a Jap born in B.C., discovered the Dutch Navy had a radio, seized it and marched all off to the guardroom, also took some of our men he caught gambling. The Dutch were beaten up something cruel. Our men were forced to carry heavy loads of brick on the double for several hours.

April 10: Two men were beaten insensible for talking to a sentry. Coarse rock salt with snail shells in it cost 65 yen per pound and is going up. The canteen is almost always sold out of everything. We are lucky if we can get a little salt, soy sauce and bean curd.

June 1: We are sleeping on the concrete floor since the raised board platform has been taken away. The newspaper printed by the Japanese in English for our benefit, has stopped coming into camp. We do not miss it though we sometimes got a good laugh out of it. Their propaganda is so outrageous, it is ridiculous.

A big inspection by Tokanaga. Hot water showers are now working once a week. Concert last night had to be called off on account of rain, as roof leaks like a sieve. Tickets were given back.

June 6: Old Dave Johnston went into camp hospital, has lost a lot of weight.

June 7: Old Dave died this evening.

June 8: I was one of the pall bearers. At 10:30, we carried the body to the chapel for service. There was Wilson and Carpenter, Jimmy Gard, Pop Wharff, Oley and I, dressed in tunics, shorts, puttees, boots, belts, field service caps. We had to do some borrowing to get them all. I'll certainly miss old Dave. He knew CSM Adams in World War I.

On the evening of June 26th, I received my first letter from home with a Pipestone postmark of April 22, 1942.

August 14: I am one of 480 warned of draft for Japan, 380 Canadians, 25 Dutch Navy remainder are Imperials. We have had two pays, one of 24 yen and a second of 30 yen. Can buy very little as prices are exorbitant and supplies are very limited. I bought a pound of salt and a pint of soy sauce. We have been vaccinated and had three innoculations and two stool tests. We have been penned off from the rest of the camp with barbed wire for the past week. The bakery has baked a batch of buns to feed us on the voyage.

Total strength of Grenadiers when we landed in Hong Kong, 915 officers, NCO's and men.

Casualties in war — 137.

Number of men we lost while POW up until August 15, 1943 was 53.

We embarked on draft for Japan on Sunday morning August 15, 1943. We were crammed into the hold on top of coal, so closely packed together there was never room for everyone to lie down at the same time. There were three hundred men in our hold and for some days, only 10 men were allowed on deck to use the latrines at one time. As many had chronic diarrhea, this was a deplorable state of affairs. Red Cross supplies were put on board for us but the Japs used them for themselves and what they couldn't use, they threw overboard. Our buns we took on board were soon covered with a thick, greyish, hairy mould, we cut the outside off and ate the rest until the mould progressed thru the buns and made us sick. Then we ate rice and were served a fish stew so rank many could not eat it and those who did were sick. But the worst of all was when heavy planks were put over the hatchways and canvas over that and we sweltered in the terrible heat below. We tore off every article of clothing we had and fanned ourselves till we were utterly exhausted. I have a good idea now what it must have been like in the Black Hole of Calcutta or in the dark holds of African slave ships.

I saw E. C. Harrison of Bury, Quebec, while he, himself, was sick on the voyage, give up his blankets and bed space to another sick man, who for lack of space, was clinging to a ladder. Harrison then perched on the ladder himself, for days. He was one of the most self-sacrificing men I ever saw. His brother, an unarmed stretcher bearer was killed by Japs while tending wounded men during the battle of Hong Kong.

Harrison, himself, died of dysentry in Camp 5B, Niigata, Japan. His parents have every reason to be proud of him, I am proud of the fact that I knew him, and that he counted me one of his friends.

The mystery man on board was Sub. Lieutenant Bush of the British Navy. He was said to have married a Japanese girl before the war, spoke the language like a native, still wore his Naval uniform and cap, and was allowed extraordinary privileges, on deck all the time. He wasn't allowed to do much for us, but he did what he could. When we stopped at the southern tip of Formosa, he managed to get one pomelo for each of us, we were allowed to buy it. They are a poor imitation of a grapefruit, mostly peel and pith, but tasted wonderful to us at the time. He was a tall, handsome fellow, looked every inch a Naval Officer, we often wondered if he would be allowed to join his wife or if it would turn out to be a mixed marriage tragically marred by war.

We lay at anchor for two days at the northern point of Formosa where we had another stool test. Very hot and hard to breathe where we are penned down below. Our drinking water is rationed.

We finally docked near Osaka later, afternoon of September 1. Marched a short distance, then climbed aboard streetcars, then changed to a train. The railway was laid along the coastline for miles and miles and we had a constant view of the open sea on our left as we sped north, and of the mountains on our right. We passed through many tunnels. When meal time arrived, each man was given a square wooden box (about six inches square and one inch deep) full of rice with a little seaweed and pickle in it. We travelled roughly 180 miles north before we reached Camp 5B on the outskirts of the City of Niigata.

We had to learn to count in Japanese for roll call as soon as we landed in Japan:

1-ichi

2-nii

3-san

4-she

5-go

6-roku

7-sechi

8-hachti

9:ku

10-ju

11-ju ichi

12-ju nil

13-ju san

14-ju she

15-ju go ....etc. etc.

Many had difficulty learning this heathenish method of counting, and a mistake in the count was a sufficient excuse for the Orderly Sergeant to beat a man up.

Some of us were sent to work on the Marutso docks, others to the Rinko coalyard, a third to Shintetsu foundry. Our group started work on the docks on September 6, 1943.

October 18: About 300 Americans from the Philippines arrived here, all dressed in blue jeans and smocks and wearing blue composition sun helmets that the Philippino scouts once wore. These Yanks were survivors of the Bataan death march.

October 25: I received a letter from my brother Dave, the second letter I have received from Canada since I left it two years ago.

October 30: Working every day in the rain and wind. Chief Lone of the Dutch Navy died of pneumonia, due to exposure in all weathers at work.

October 31: Socks completely worn out. Boots in bad shape, chafe and blistered feet, cause festering sores. Hands numb with cold at work today, two hail storms and a lot of rain. No mitts, very hungry and miserable. Sixteen cases of pneumonia in this camp hospital now.

November 1: Work hard and heavy, loading manganese ore from dock with hand carts into railway cars.

November 2: Began work at eight and worked till eight at night. Tired, hungry, footsore, two men died today.

November 3: My heels are skinned, every step is agony. One of the boys said he thought the boys who died in battle at Hong Kong were the lucky ones. He envied them. Len Skwarok of Dauphin used to go to work barefoot on the docks when his boots wore out.

November 4: Unloading charcoal out of a barge. Had the first hot bath since we reached Japan, after the coolies. water was black and cold. Koster and Jenkins very ill at work today.

November 6: Working at charcoal in the rain, soaked to the skin, very miserable. No place in camp to dry our clothes, shivering. A Yank died today.

November 9: Still raining, still carrying charcoal. Infection in my hands, badly swollen. Heels raw, very miserable. Reid of Rifles died today. Makes eleven dead since we arrived here. At least they will never be hungry or cold anymore.

November 10: Still piling straw bags full of charcoal up on a huge stack on the river bank.

November 12: Unloading potatoes from a ship into a warehouse, raining again, soaking wet. We all have bad colds.

November 13: Working in rain. An American died today.

November 14: Ray Kay died today. Tonight a few canteen supplies came in, 4 packets of fish powder to be drawn for by fifty men.

November 15: Canadians have had their battledress taken away. The only warm woolen clothes they had.

November 16: Another Rifle died during the night named Sardy. Tonight after work, each man has to hand in a shirt. Pretty soon we will be naked.

November 17: Feeling tough, the enormous radish which they call "daikon" does not agree with my stomach.

November 18: Dannyluk and Evans put in hospital. Cold in our hut. Can see your breath quite plainly.

November 19: Another Yank died. Cannot get warm even in bed.

November 20: Fischer, a Dutchman, died early this morning. About six inches of straw has been spread on floor for sleeping on.

November 21: Rifleman Halley died today. The Japs are issuing our battle dress to the Americans!! We have been given old, dirty, torn Japanese uniforms, infested with lice and we have no hot water nor any means of disinfecting them.

November 22: Knapp of Rifles died early this morning. Cpl Breen a little later.

November 23: Evans died today and Stan Hunter. We have been ordered to turn in everything made of blanket material, we have just started to make sox and mitts out of blankets, the Japs found out and so the order.

November 25: Cold and rainy, loading barrels onto freight cars first, then later, loading charcoal into cars. Got very wet.

November 27: Loading coke into railway cars. Every week there is an inspection to see if we have broken any dishes issued from the Japs.

November 29: Robertson died today. Loading charcoal, rainy, windy and cold.

November 30: Nick Charuk died today. We worked on charcoal, salt and bean curd.

December 1: A white frost, the first we have had, over everything, a 1/4" of ice on all the puddles. Worked on charcoal, rope and stone. Feeling tough with diarrhea.

December 2: D. and Corporal Ingalls died. Worked on barrels and charcoal.

December 3: Very cold at work. Another Yank died. We were issued old Jap puttees and one pair of thin white cotton summer socks. No heel, shapeless from top to toe.

December 4: Went to work after a bad night, up 7 times to go to toilet. Another Yank died.

December 5: Bitterly cold. Hughie McTaggart, Sedan and an American died today.

December 6: Got back from work tonight and heard Archie Rutherford had died. Hard, very hard. He was an old Grenadier; like H., Archie had always been so optimistic. Had done his best to cheer the boys up all the time we were in Hong Kong. Used to wear a little checkered cap on the top of his head and tell the weirdest yarns, anything to make the boys forget their troubles. No C Company men will ever forget him.

December 7: Windy, cloudy and raw. Loading charcoal and bean curd. Japs took back the dishes they had issued us because someone had broken a bowl.

December 8: Another Yank died. Very mean weather for work, a howling gale, sleet, rain and snow.

December 9: Cold and miserable, working on manganese ore and bean curd. Smith of Rifles died today.

December 10: Snowing all day at work, wet, slushy and miserable.

December 11: Snowing heavily, wet, slushy.

December 13: Loading barrels on a barge, then cement on a boat and rice into warehouse. A Yank died today.

December 14: A hard white frost.

December 15: A thaw, very wet. Loading cement and rice.

December 16: Milder, loading cement, meal and charcoal.

December 17: Out of our group of 50 men, only 19 have been coining out to work, the rest have been sick in camp. The Japs forced an extra seven out today but they are not fit to work. Can hardly walk.

Little Waterhouse of the Royal Rifles, one of the gamest kids I ever saw. Too small for the heavy work, sick and underweight, he toiled uncomplainingly, sheer willpower sustained him to the end, when a veritable walking skeleton, he tottered in from work, between two of us. Death came as a merciful release.

December 18: Very wet, raining, loading rice. 28 men out today but some had a hard time getting back to camp tonight. Had to be helped by a man on each side.

December 19: Raining, snowing, cold and miserable. Another Yank died.

December 20: On return from work, all our beds and kit was strewn around. Seems some rations have been stolen. Big McLaughlen just died. We did not get supper till 9:30. But men who were caught with stolen rations were thrown in guard room and two of them tied to a post outside, all night.

December 21: Raining, wet, miserable. Sgt Phillips of the Rifles died today.

December 23: A Rifle and a Grenadier died today.

December 24: Raining, raw, cold. Moving to another camp about a mile away. Carried our kit over on our back, then returned for the blankets and a load of straw, made a third trip for another huge bundle of straw. New camp only half finished, no doors or windows. Very cold. No kitchen equipment.

December 25: Clear and cold. Had to go to foundry, a two mile march, and carry breakfast back in big wooden buckets. It was spaghetti, not enough to go around, Krupp had to collect a large spoonful from each man to make up what he was short. Everyone is hungry. Everything in a turmoil. Nothing organized, confusion reigns. We were herded out and had our pictures taken, then the long wait for dinner, after one o'clock, none in sight, sky clouded over, beginning to rain, a cheerless prospect. Dinner finally arrived, a very small portion of rice, a little spaghetti. Then we were issued with four small oranges, just culls, miserable wizened specimens and a few sweet biscuits. The only bright spot in the day was when each man got 6 oz. of bully beef and a piece of bread for supper. This is a bitter Christmas. We were hoping for mail.

December 26: No hot water to wash our clothes or our bodies, everyone is lousy, all have bad colds from feet continually wet. The wind whistles through this bleak barn of a place. No food in this camp. We marched out to where we work on the docks and waited for breakfast, when it came, the rice was raw, just nicely warmed up. We ate dinner and supper on the docks. Weather raw and rough, wind, sleet and rain. Soaking wet again. How long, oh Lord, how long?

December 27: No floor in new huts, just loose sand. The second tier of bunks is ten feet above the first and reached by a frail and shaky ladder. A high roof open to the peak, cold and draughty

December 28: Bitterly cold today, a piercing wind, stumbled back later through mud and slush in the dark. Wallace had died, one of the Rifles, a very nice kid, should never have been in the Army in the first place. Harding, another Rifle, died at lights out.

December 29: Raining again, loading pig iron and charcoal. Bolting our meal, no time to eat properly.

December 31: A dismal day, loading pig iron.

Chapter 7: 1944

January 1, 1944: About 3:30 early this morning when we were all asleep from fatigue, in the long bunk shed on the sandy hillside, I was awakened by the wrenching, creaking sound of straining timbers. All was in darkness, the hut seemed to be sinking beneath me, then I heard the awful screams of men crushed and trapped beneath the wreckage. The very first thing I thought of was "earthquake!" as I felt the building settling over me. I was on the upper bunk, but not all the deaths were in the lower. On my right beneath the beams died Staff Sword and Les Sanson; on my left Harold Jones was killed, while in the lower bunk little Joe Furey, one of the brightest boys that ever enlisted, one of the most cheerful, most helpful, kindest-hearted friends a man ever had, lay lifeless beneath a heavy timber.

The rescue crew cut holes in the roof to get us out and without knowing it, their additional weight on the roof was crushing us more. It was a night of horror, the cries of suffering Men unable to move with the weight of the wreckage about them—when the first boards were ripped up above me, I felt the wind and the drifting snow on my face.

Seven men died that night, and eight later, and 17 men were put in hospital with cracked or broken ribs or pelvis. They were put in casts and when the lice got inside the casts, they endured the tortures of the damned. Jerry Mabley was one of these.

Next day I was one of three men detailed to put the dead men in their coffins. It was a cold day, snowing and blowing. We were shivering. They lay stark naked in a row and cold as ice. The coffins, cheap, flimsy affairs, roughly and crudely made, were too short for the bodies. . . .

January 9: We were issued with straw shoes; the snow just melted enough to give us very wet feet. Watson and Boulding died.

January 10: A Yank caught stealing rations was beaten up and tied to a post all night. All other huts in camp are being propped up with rows of poles along each side in the hope no more buildings will fall down. It is a wonder they stand up at all, hardly a nail in them.

January 13: Loading pig iron into 30 ton Gondolas and even into refrigerator cars that still have large blocks of ice in them. The slabs of pig iron weigh from 50 to 200 pounds, have jagged edges, very hard on the hands. We are issued with one pair of straw mitts per month. They are worn out in a single day.

January 14: Unloading bundles of iron rods. Caruso died today and two Americans.

January 17: Cold and frosty. Worked hard, long and late. No time to eat our suppers out there, had to carry it into camp in own dishes. Tonight American Red Cross boxes were finally released, each box divided between two men. I got one 12 oz. tin of corned beef, 4 oz. of coffee, 7 oz. of butter, 8 oz. of powdered milk, one bar of chocolate, 4 packets of cigarettes, 4 oz. of canned salmon, 3 oz. of mill pate, 2 oz. of jam. The first really pleasant thing that has happened since we landed in Japan. It all tastes wonderful. I don't know which is best.

January 18: Moved back to old camp.

January 20: Atrocities in 5B, Niigata, which I personally witnessed. I saw two men, Tetman, an American and Mortimer of the Royal Rifles, tied to stakes one evening in mid-winter, snow on the ground, clad only in shirt and trousers, barefooted, bareheaded, hands behind their backs, about 6 feet of slack rope to let them run around the pole which they did all night, to keep from freezing.

Next morning, we fell in and lined up for work as usual. Mortimer was still running around his stake, hands and feet badly frostbitten; Tetman was on his knees, the orderly Sgt was beating him over the head with a club. When we came in from work at night, Tetman was dead with a fractured skull, Mortimer was in hospital with frozen feet, gangrene set in and he died three days later. Why were these two men treated like this? There were Red Cross parcels in camp, and the Japs were eating them, throwing out empty tins. We were all hungry, these two men were desperate. They tried to break into the storerooms at night, they were caught . . . .

Out to work every day till March 21st.

March 21: I am in bed with a badly swollen right leg.

March 22: Infection has set in. Our work party is down to 11 men. Old Ed Arseneau went out to work today for the first time since the crash in the other camp. I got a large hypodermic injection in my bad leg.

March 23: Another needle in the leg. A big inspection today. I am bedded down, told to keep off my right leg, it looks like blood poisoning. This evening Red Cross parcels were issued, one between every two men. We are very thankful.

March 24: I was ordered into hospital today. The room for cripples and beriberi cases. About fifteen of us in this little room. A tiny heater in the centre. Old Lew Young from Meadow Lake is in here, and Walt Jenkins. My leg is dark blue from ankle to knee and has a queer appearance, shiny, like polished metal. Lanced today, seems full of bloody pus. I am very drowsy, can hardly keep my eyes open during the day. The Japanese took most of the powdered milk out of our parcels.

March 25: Two cases came over from Shintetsu, both with broken limbs. I got a needle in the arm and had my leg opened up again and have it propped high above my body now.

March 26: Another needle in the arm. Bathed leg in hot water.

March 27: Japs carousing in their quarters, we can hear their songs and drunken laughter. One of the coal gang carried in here with a broken leg. Fell off trestle.

March 28: The usual wrangle going on between patients and orderlies. The berri beris are mad for water and must not have it, those on restricted diet want more food and can't have it, and there is a living skeleton here who has to be forced to eat by threats of cutting off his tobacco and water.

Tonight we were issued with some Red Cross clothing we should have had months ago, all of good U.S. manufacture. One wool blanket, shirt and pair of socks and heavy winter cap, and a pair of leather gloves. Mine are both for the right hand!

March 29: Dull, rainy days. Japs have taken out our stove. Hospital patients have actually been issued pyjamas. Fourteen American medical staff came in tonight, dressed in Naval uniforms.

March 31: A berri berri patient who is on a limited liquid diet got up in the middle of the night and stole some water. This morning he is all puffed up again. Moved back to the other camp, scene of the hut crash.

April 1: Hospital patients rode in back of truck on top of the luggage, very rough and cold. Very draughty in new camp.

April 2: No more isolation, dysentry patients mixed up with berri berri, etc.

April 3: Lugow (a sort of barley porridge) today, a fish head for breakfast, I ate it all, even the eyes, I am very hungry.

April 5: Boys do not care for the lugow, too much water in it, prefer dry rice or millet. Robinson, an American sailor, 18 years in the Navy, died today.

April 10: Pereault, a Rifle, died today.

April 16: An American named Haglund, from Oakland, California, came into hospital today, in the bedspace beside me. He is a skeleton, if ever I saw one. Tonight we were issued cards and told we might write a few words home. Haglund asked me if I would write his card for him. I said certainly, what should I write? He gave me his mother's address and told me to say he was fine and they mustn't worry and to send his love. I hesitated, but he begged me to, so I wrote it and hoped his mother would forgive me when she eventually heard the truth.

April 17: Haglund very weak this morning. I raised his head and gave him a mouthful of hot coffee and when he lay back he swallowed once and was gone. I never saw anyone slip away so easily. Now the doctor, Major S. and K. are arguing whether they should allow his card to be mailed home or not.

April 19: Fixing up a hot bath in camp. All patients had one today.

April 21: Robley of the Rifles died today at 10 o’clock. He had berri beri, infected leg, and amoebic dysentry. Total of ninety-two POW's out of 600 have died since we landed in Japan. Out of 300 who were Canadians, 75 have died.

April 26: Discharged from hospital.

May 26: After a week in quarters I went out to work again, worked for ten days and my leg was as bad as ever again. Back in quarters hoping a rest will effect a cure. The last issue of Red Cross parcels came in a week ago. Each parcel had to be divided among five men. All men in quarters except those excused all duties, are working hard, pumping and carrying water all day to fill the big wooden tank which serves as a bath tub.

The huts we slept and ate in were long barnlike structures, about 200 feet long and 40 feet wide. Down the centre was just the ground, in this case, light, loose sand which was full of fleas. There was a sort of raised platform which ran down each side of the building, about a foot off the ground on which we sleep and sit while eating. First a thin straw mat was laid on the platform, then our blankets. We had one good wool American Red Cross blanket and four thin cotton frayed Japanese blankets which were much too short for us. If you pulled them up to your chin your feet stuck out a foot. When winter came, we were forced to turn in one blanket. You couldn't keep the fleas out of your blankets. When you woke in the morning and sat up, they would be dancing around you like hundreds of young grasshoppers spring up around your feet as you walk through the new grass in the spring. They raised a big welt wherever they bit so you looked like you had a bad case of the hives. They are very hard to catch and hard to hold while you killed them. As soon as the men came in from work, they would take off their boots and put on a sort of wooden sandal with a strap across the top known by various names as "skivvies" or "go aheads", as you couldn't walk backwards. The straps were always tearing off the sole, and so many men were prone to borrow a neighbour's when one of his became unserviceable. So this was a constant source of friction. I saw one real bare fist fight over that, "Whose got my skivvies?" "I have," someone answered. "Take the things off." "And what if I don't?" "Why, punch you on the nose," and putting his words into action, he promptly proceeded to do so. I hear they really mixed it, and blood soon began to flow, but it was a clean stand up fight, both six footers and long and lean, no clinches, no knockdowns, after actually only two or three minutes both were winded and gasping for breath, and badly marked, and the group leader stepped in between the exhausted men and ended the fight and made them shake hands. The two who fought were Carl Janssen and Roy Kirk.

If you are hungry, worried, overworked, and apprehensive, tempers fray and small incidents which you would laugh off in normal life lead to bitter words and quarrels.

By the time the first winter in Japan arrived (1943), the soles of my shoes were worn through. There was always loose bits of straw rope lying around the docks where we worked, and I used to tie these around my boots to keep my bare feet off the ground. Needless to say, the roping had to be renewed several times a day and was a great nuisance at best. The Jap civilians who watched us as we marched to work used to point and laugh at my feet. The ordinary footwear for the majority of the Jap workers is what they call "Catawbis", and is a rubber-soled shoe with a cloth top that hooks up at the back. The big toe is divided from the other four toes. The foreman of the gang tried to make us wear some old worn out pairs. They were too small for us, and the divided portion of the toes blistered the insides of our toes something cruel. The ordinary wooden sandal the Jap children wear looks like this so from this comes the idea of the divided toe. Some of the Jap soldiers, or "hayti" wore cheap leather shoes, but most, and all for combat, wore the divided rubber shoe. The sight of it always reminded me of the cloven hoof, and I thought of the "trail of the serpent and the mark of the beast".

The first winter in Japan, there was only six inches of snow, we were issued with straw boots, woven entirely of straw which looked like this . If we had had heavy woolen socks to put in them and if the snow had been dry and frosty all the time, it wouldn't have been so bad, or even if they had been big enough for us, which they were not, if your foot was a nine or over, your heel forced its way through the straw at the back. It was impossible to keep them dry, and once wet they became a sodden Mess, with no way of drying them. Night after night, I have gone to bed with cold, wet feet, so bone tired I slept the sleep of utter exhaustion until wakened by the cold which roused me from my stupor, and so lay and shivered from four to six when we rose to start another day of slavery. I used to dream at night, fantastic dreams of good leather boots.

It's hard to remember all the different things we handled on the docks.

For days we carried charcoal out of river barges and stacked it in huge piles near our shack, some of it was, put in straw bags, some in wicker framework, we handled coke with the yo-yo shoulder pole. We handled huge crocks of acid spray, long iron rods, Army goods, clothing, etc. Crude rubber, looted from Malay, compressed with steel bands into huge square blocks, very heavy. Creosoted ties, a dirty heavy job, all sorts of commercial fertilizer, lumber and poles, and a lot of dried fish in huge straw bales, and some sort of raw shark with an odious smell, a white chemical they call "eon" and huge bales of something like raffia, might have been guncotton, drums of fuel oil and cases of canned goods.

Dysentry was rife in camp and the Camp Commandant had some queer ideas as to its cause. He told us we caught cold in our stomachs and we must guard against this by what seemed to us to be absurd precautions. When we stood to, for Tenko, or roll call, every morning and night, we had to have a blanket tightly wrapped around our middle. It must be able to stay in place without holding.

Did you know it is a deadly insult to call a Mexican a Mexican? They prefer to be called Spanish and still speak what they call Spanish, though I suspect it is far from the pure Castillian the conquistadores used. Anyway, one of the Spaniards was late for the evening roll call, and grabbing his blanket, he slung it loosely about him and held it to his sides with his arms, unfortunately he was in the front rank (we fell in by fours) and the Orderly Sgt spotted him and ordered him to raise his arms. The man raised his right one. "Raise the other" was the crisp command. The man dropped his right and raised his left, "Raise them both," thundered the irate Jap. The trembling Spaniard raised his arms and the blanket dropped around his feet, the Jap clenched his fist . .

Military discipline amongst the Jap armed forces is invariably some form of corporal punishment administered on the spot. While in Hong Kong, in North Point camp, I remember an Officer making the rounds and a guard being lax on duty. The Officer called him stiffly to attention shouting "Kiotski" then using the flat of each hand alternately on the sides of the man's face, in a regular sideways round house delivery till he was panting with the exertion, and the private's face was red and swollen.

In our camp at Niigata when the Camp Commandant became enraged, just for instance if his bath was cold, he called the Orderly Sergeant and administered a thorough drubbing, he in turn beat up the Corporal, who retaliated on the Private, and the Private had no one to vent his spleen on but the prisoners. So he hastened to the huts and if he couldn't find an excuse easily, why he didn't bother looking for one. We had no chairs but were expected to sit upright in a stiff unnatural manner on our sleeping platforms while eating. The guard (Privates) used their rifle butts if they saw us reclining at meal times. They delighted in calling us to salute them many times. "Kiotski", "Kerai".

When first held as prisoners in Shamshuipo, rice was cooked in old gas drums which had the tops knock out. They were propped up on stones and a wood fire built under them. There was not even salt to savour the watery paste that resulted from several hours boiling.

Many men had lost their mess tins and all sorts of containers were used. When the long line formed (we were fed twice a day, about a large cupful each time) there was a strange variety of dishes presented for each ration. Some men took the lining out of their steel helmets and used the outer shell for a huge bowl. Others used the reflectors around electric lights. They were lined with white enamel, and of course a wooden plug had to be inserted where the bulb originally had been. Some picked up a flat piece of tin and bent up the sides to form a shallow pan, others made small boxes out of boards to hold their ration.

In order to prevent scurvy, we were fed what we called the "green horror", some sort of coarse weed stems, some looked like bits of honor reed, we called them "whistle roots". Some' times we had the green tops of the sweet potato plant. They ran like a creeping vine over the ground and the last six inches of each vine was used. All tended to have a bitter taste, and was anything but appetizing, just practically a coarse fodder. The rice in Hong Kong was of very poor quality, sweepings of the warehouses (go downs they were called), all sorts of refuse, insects, etc. Some was mouldy in the form of balls about the size of a walnut inside of which was a large worm. When we moved to North Point camp, a small amount of whale meat came in and squid, or young octopus, the latter had a very disagreeable odor, and the sight of the tentacles with the suction discs on the bottom side gave you a very queer feeling in the stomach. We had some buns, but as there was no yeast, they were very heavy and sour and the flour, like the yeast, had insects in it.

North Point camp was on the island of Hong Kong on the very edge of the shore including one of the pill boxes which Jap Artillery fire had shattered. We heard these were built by a German construction company some years ago because they had put in the lowest tender of all. The outer inch was concrete, the inside was similar to poor mortar or plaster. You could pull out chunks with your hand. When the Japs strung electrified wire around us, and when they charged the wire around the compound, the first victim was the pet dog which belonged to the Jap Orderly Sergeant. When the wire around Shamshuipo was charged, there was a dog or cat in the wire every second or third morning. Then the current would be shut off, and the short was soon discovered, as there would be a crowd of hungry Chinese waiting for the animal to be taken off the wire and thrown out, when they would pounce on it. I always remember an old woman dragging away a large black dog.

We had a terrific craving for salt, never had realized before in our lives how important it was, nor thought its absence would be so noticeable in our diet.

One of the first things the Japs did that seemed so childish, was to use some black substance (possibly axle grease) to smear over all English signs or anything in English printing. Reminds me, in the city of Niigata in Japan, the only signs I saw in English were "No Smoking".

The Japs tore down all the bronze statues in the city of Victoria on the island of Hong Kong, including one large one of Queen Victoria. We presumed they melted them down for armaments. They began to build a large monument on Mount Cameron to commemorate their victory, but after the base was finished, and a high scaffolding erected around it, they paused, possibly a doubt had crept into their minds (this was 1943) as to whether it was a victory, anyway it was never finished to my knowledge. I left for Japan in August of 1943.

In Japan, in the city of Niigata, camp 5B, we put in the most frightful winter of our lives. In four months time, in that winter, out of 300 Canadians, 75 died, through overwork, exposure, starvation, dysentry, berri berri, pellegra, etc. We would come in from work at night and someone would ask, "Well, who died today?" "Oh," the answer would come, "Kitteringham, and one of the Royal Rifles". (Kitteringham was one of the finest men I ever met, his death cast a pall of gloom over the camp). "Well," someone would briskly interpose, "what's for supper?" We didn't dare to dwell on the subject of death too much, we never knew who would be next, our best friend, or ourselves. When our doctor remonstrated with the Camp Commandant, he laughed scornfully and said there were "toxon cheesi hookoo" (plenty of little wooden boxes) to hold the cremated ashes of those who died.

White rice was scarce and expensive in Japan. We were fed mainly on a mixture which at times was mostly "coryon", a sort of bluish red millet seed, and sometimes rolled barley, often only half cooked as fuel was scarce and hard to get. Many of us found this hard to digest, and many found it bloated their stomachs. John the Baptist ate locusts but he had wild honey to help them down. The grasshoppers we had in our diet looked exactly like the ones we had in Manitoba in 1934, and may have been that old too. They had never been cooked, just soaked in soy sauce, a dark bitter liquid with a salty taste, which both Chinese and Japs use. I always tore the hind legs off my hoppers, the barbs would tear the inside of your mouth. I always ate my hoppers head first and gave the head a good crunch when I remembered how they devastated my field of alfalfa in 1934. The snails which were issued as part of our rations were eaten but certainly not enjoyed. They came in alive, in an open tub, and the night cook, George Dunn, said they kept crawling up and falling over the edge onto the floor. They were boiled a few moments and served on, or rather in, the shell. You had to use a pin or piece of wire to pull them out. You can figure we were pretty hungry when we ate them.

There was a great scarcity of metal kitchen equipment. Except for the large cast iron says (a huge bowl set on a square of ,bricks) for boiling rice, all kegs and pails were wood and very unsanitary. They absorbed flavors and odors, especially fish.

The Rinko gang that worked in the coal yard used to bring in lumps of coal in their pockets, at the close of the day's work, and donate it to the kitchen fires to help cook our meals. Often fuel was so scarce there was no hot water for tea.

When we first reached Niigata, 58, all our good battledress was taken from us and we were given dirty worn out Jap uniforms that were simply crawling. We had no hot water or means of sterilizing clothes. Needless to say they made life even more miserable and as they were cotton, they were cold. They took our knives, razors, valuables, and money. The latter they said they would send to Tokyo "to keep safe for us". We were given money just before we left Hong Kong for Japan which amounted to 45 Chinese dollars. I believe this was sent in by the Red Cross. When the war was over and before we left 58, they paid us back our money in Japanese Yen; to give an idea what this was worth, we decided to all chip in and buy a good beef animal, slaughter it and have meat for the camp. The old farmer who led the miserable, shambling creature into camp next morning took off his old straw hat and wiped his sweating brow, he seemed greatly relieved he had gotten the animal inside the gate before it collapsed. When dressed, weighing the bones as well, we had 200 odd pounds of meat for over 700 men. This cost us 5,000 Yen.

We were divided up into groups, each one had a leader, our group lost three leaders. Captain Lone (Acting Chief Petty Officer off the Dutch submarine HH MS 0.20 of the Royal Dutch Navy sunk by Kota Baru Coast, Malaya Penninsula, 150 miles north of Singapore), was our first leader; he died of pneumonia, from being soaked to the skin while we were working in the rain day after day. Next leader Staff Sword died in hut crash, third leader Mac Hawes, a handsome young giant, beloved by all his men, died of poison only a month before the war ended. Out of our group of fifteen men, a few were employed in camp, but most were sent out to work on the docks. Sickness took such a toll, at one time during the first winter, our work party was down to ten men, who were still going out steadily, while the rest were sick in camp. Every man who could walk out to work kept going out as long as he could, for the dock company provided us with a little extra nourishment in the form of a soup, often a mixture of anything edible which was handy, but the last summer consisting mainly of soy beans, which I firmly believe helped us more than anything else except the few Red Cross parcels which came in. If a man stayed sick in camp, his rations were cut as a punishment for not being out at work. In addition, they were forced to do dirty camp fatigues such as cleaning out the latrines in mid-winter and carrying the contents out in wooden buckets, emptying outside the camp.

Out on the docks one of our main jobs was loading pig iron. It came in, in big ships possibly from Antung, Manchuria, where the soy beans came from. As soon as the ships docked they began unloading. The net which brought the large rough slabs of pig iron out of the hold were made of steel cable which had thick lengths of rope woven throughout. These ropes soon frayed and tore to pieces and there was always a gang of coolie women threading fresh rope through the spare net. The winches and donkey engines were always run and handled by women. When a ship was unloading iron, you could hear the dull clank and crash a half mile away, and when we heard the sound and saw the tall masts of a big ship towering up on the far side of Okeedasan's Godown warehouse, or Obasan's Godown warehouse, we shivered apprehensively. We could stand it, we said, in summer, but in winter when we had to dig the iron out of the snow with bare hands, it was misery, pure and unadulterated. The iron had come right out of the mould, the slabs averaged two feet long by 10 inches wide, and weighed up to as high as 200 pounds. Sometimes the odd mould was there to be loaded and it weighed much more. The edges of the slab were rough and jagged, like crystals of ice forming along the edge of the horse trough in late fall. We were issued one pair of straw mitts per month and you could wear out a single pair in a day. They were too small for us, woven out of rice straw, with no thumbs. Later, we were issued small square rubber pads, looked as if they had been torn from the mat around the clutch and pedals of the Model T We were told to handle pig iron with these, holding them in this manner, using thumb to hold them in place. We loaded pig iron into every car they had, except their passenger cars, onto flat cars, refrigerator cars that still had a foot of ice in them, and were high, with narrow doors which made them difficult to load into ordinary freight cars, 10 tonners, 12 and 18 tonners. Into open gondolas whose sides let down whole length, 22 tonners up to 30 tanners, where we piled the slabs six pieces high, along the edge and filled all in level behind. Into stock cars with slatted sides, and second floors or shelves in them for sheep or pigs, we had to crawl under the second floor on our hands and knees, to fill ,up the floor to each end of the car. While we loaded in the door, two were needed in the car to throw back to each end of the car. The "bosha's" or oxcarts were entirely of wood, except for a steel axle and rubber truck tires. The animals which pulled them were not oxen, but poor old thin cows, looked like Jersey cattle. They had a ring in their nose and were led and pulled around by Japanese Coolie women. They loaded up on the dock, and pulled around the row of warehouses and dumped their loads alongside the railroad track. If cars were waiting and ready, and we were there, they would pull alongside the coal car and two of us would get up on the cart and throw directly into the car. After a few months, the Japs put a quota on our work. Each man was supposed to load 16 tons of pig iron per day. This was held over us like a club. If we hadn't completed our quota it was an excuse to cut our rations or work longer hours.

We handled many different commodities on the docks. When the big ships unloaded soy beans on the docks, there was a pile of bags as high as an ordinary house, and 2 or 3 times as long. The beans were in large ordinary size bran sacks which weighed 180 pounds. It took three men to lift and load one of these on the back (high up, right across the neck) of the man who was going to carry it, through the warehouse and up a plank and into a freight car. To put it mildly, it is hard work, particularly the last few yards up the steep plank. When the huge pile on the docks got a heavy rain, the bags weighed 200 pounds when they were swollen up, some bags would burst. Most grain, all rice anyway, was in straw bags, and all Coolies carried hooks or "coogi" for handling straw bags. A wooden handle with a steel barb in the end, a small or "cheesr one, and a long one. A common article of diet was bean curd. It is a mixture of ground beans and rice and salt, and fermented, very sour to the taste. It was packed in 50 pound wooden kegs and the tops were seldom tight, and often the several inches of oily juice which floated on the top would leak and run down your back as you carried your keg off the dock, through the warehouse and up the plank into a freight car.

The first winter (1943) in Niigata (130 miles north of Tokyo) only had 6 inches of snow, the second (1944) we had four feet on the level. We spent weeks shovelling out the railroad tracks. When we had piled the snow up over our heads and it still fell, we tied ropes on straw mats and piled snow on and dragged them to the dock and emptied the snow into the harbor. Or after we had loaded a car with pig iron, we would shovel snow on the top, all the car would hold, and ship it out just to get rid of it. I often wondered who the poor devils were who had to unload the iron, and hoped they weren't POW's.

There were no yard engines to spot cars, and we often pushed cars up one track, switched across and down another for an hour before we could begin work. When the snow was deep the second winter, and we had a large gang out, we had at times a long heavy rope attached to the car with a dozen men pulling on the rope, and ten pushing on the car behind. When a car was heavily loaded and could not be moved, we would bring up an empty as hard and as fast as we could, hoping the impact would jar it loose; this was "dingarossi". When a gang of us were on the hawser of a barge towing it along the waterfront, I will always remember Bobby McLeod striking up the chant of the Volga boatman. He always did his best to keep our spirits up. I will always regret that he did not live to return with us. He died a month before the war ended, July 1, 1945.

Any Japs who talked to us had the same set of questions invariably. They would ask how old you were, then were you married and how many children you had. If you weren't married, why weren't you married? When I couldn't understand it myself, how could I explain it to a Jap?

Witchcraft is not dead, black magic still flourishes in Japan. When men were swollen up with berri berri, the Jap quack doctors laid oily paper on their stomach and legs and set them on fire with glowing charcoal. These burns only resulted in festering sores and a great deal of additional suffering for our men who were the victims.

When we first went to work on the docks the Japanese women were frankly afraid of us. We may have been the first white men they had ever seen. The first day they ran and hid. After that, they stared at us from a distance, and finally, they decided to ignore us, and pretend we never existed. The last summer they were beginning to be interested and would have been friendly if we had given them any encouragement. Particularly one of the girls who handled one of the "boshas" (carts) and learned to giggle and roll her eyes.

The only human beings in Japan who showed me any kindness were some of the old ladies who worked on the docks. They were 50 or 60 years old, if none of our foremen were watching, they might slip us a sweet potato or a handful of "hera mommies" which were nothing but parched soy beans. They would take a shovelful of beans and hold them over the fire, rolling or stirring them, till they uniformly browned and the skins cracked open. They tasted like peanuts, were hard to chew and hard to digest, but must have had some food value. All Japs had a handful in their pocket, tossed them into their mouths one at a time. One morning walking down the track, we came across the body of a large black cat lying on the rail. It had been cut in two by the train. We immediately exclaimed, "Here's something for the soup!" Joe Falcon skinned it and Tommy Wilson cooked it in the soup. If you didn't know what it was, you might have thought it was rabbit. After we had finished eating, Walt Jenkins said, "You know, I've been thinking, a cat is supposed to be the most agile animal there is, and any cat that couldn't get off the track must have had something wrong with it." Actually, it was easily explained. We had shovelled the snow and thrown it up in a steep bank eight feet in height on each side of the track. A week after, our foreman came along dragging the body of a police dog which he said had been killing chickens. Joe Falcon had just skinned it and cut it up when the foreman grabbed the two hind quarters and walked off with them, and they had all the best meat on them!

Many of the train crews were just youngsters in their teens, and when they were shunting, they hit for all they were worth. Three cars all coupled together were derailed one day by the crossing next to Mara Shang's. We saw a big, 30-ton gondola loaded with loose soy beans which had had its coupling (which normally projects 18" to 2' from bed of the car) driven completely under, and the loose beans were pouring out around the break onto the ground.

But the funniest thing was an open gondola full of four gallon tins of "aubra" or lubricating oil which had been hit so hard the • tins had lapped over one another, the oil was running through the floor of the car in a dozen places and a Jap running from one break to another with a pail.

Speaking of leaks, the first winter, carload after carload of leeks began coming in. The leek is a first cousin of the green onion. The bulb is the same size as the green stalk, the whole thing 2 to 3 feet long and a very mild flavor. There was no room for them in the warehouses and so we stacked them in huge piles outside where they froze, and then headed, and turned black and rotted, and the steam rose in a cloud on the frosty air.

We handled a lot of "manga" or manganese ore. It resembled a sort of heavy sticky clay, dumped on the dock. We had to shovel it onto wooden boxes on hand carts and pull them past the warehouse to the track, dump them on the ground and shovel them into cars. Hard and heavy work. We handled the "dogo" the same way. It was a sort of grey rock.

We carried thousands of bags of sulphur in straw bags. It was in rock form about the size of your fist, when it spilled to the floor of the warehouse from broken bags it crunched under your feet like frosty snow.

We handled many bags of rice, storing it in warehouses one week, then loading it into cars the next. Handled huge cases of crated machinery, some the full length of a gondola, and huge spools of undersea cable. The picture is a typical case. I think they must have been loaded by a huge crane. They fitted in so tight they were jammed. We had the devils own time with bars and blocks, prying one up so we could get the others loose, very heavy, had to be rolled. When loading larger crates of machinery into a barge off an old rotten dock on the river bank, there were no convenient mooring posts or piles. The mooring lines were too long, and when levering a great heavy crate off the wharf into the barge, it always had a tendency to push the barge away, and leave a gap above the water. Finally a crate went in with a splash and took two men with it. It took all afternoon to rig up a tripod and set of pulleys to raise the crate from the oozy bottom. The Jap foreman laughed so much at our men in the river that he didn't beat us up for letting the crate fall in. We hated handling cement as the cheap paper bags were always breaking and the cement dust was hard to wash off our clothes.

Ever since the four Canadians had escaped from North Point camp on the island of Hong Kong, we had been forced to take turns as hut guard. We have no proof that the four, Sgt Payne, Bresinsky, Ellis and Adams, ever reached safety. A Chinese labor gang told our interpreter, Rance, that our four men had been caught, tortured and shot.

The hut guard always had to be on the alert, dare not smoke or sit down. Must keep all men covered up, which was a job in itself, as some continuously kicked blankets off. Must know the number of men in his hut and recite his list of duties. When Major Boone, the arch traitor, was Orderly Officer in Shamshuipo and made the rounds at night with the Kamloops Kid (the Jap who was born in B.C.), the two delighted in interrogating Canadians. The kid said he had been ridiculed as a child in B.C. and he swore Canadians would pay for it, he was particularly-vindictive.

The first winter (1943) in Japan, there were no bathing facilities whatever. We were allowed to take a bath once every two 'weeks out at work after the Coolies had had theirs. We were forced to undress outside, snow on the ground and leaving our clothes out, walk naked in and climb into a square wooden trough like a big stock tank. Water was commonly 110 degrees, often higher. Soap was very scarce and hard to get. Camp 5B was set high on the edge of a range of sandhills which were covered with a scrubby growth of evergreens. Four wells in camp, but very seldom that more than two were functioning at a time. The water of two wells, the kitchen and the electric well, was good, the other two were polluted by the latrines. The soil was a pure blow-sand, the farmers had little plots and depended on human fertilizer from the latrines, to grow their garden stuff. This human waste was poured into huge half barrels, almost buried in the ground at the edge of the fields, about 6' across and 2' deep. It was allowed to age in these containers for some time before they spread it along the rows of vegetables. We marched past these every day on our way to work, and the stench was almost unbearable.

Their commonest and most popular vegetable was the "daikon" which was simply an enormous white radish, 2' long and 4" thru (on the average). They were about 95% water and had a hot burning taste. These were sliced and boiled with a spoonful of bean curd for soup or stew. Eggplant was common and so were cucumbers in season. I think more Irish potatoes were imported than grown, we unloaded a good many shipments on the docks. Sweet potatoes were grown locally, wheat and barley was grown in small plots. When they harvested they pulled it up by the roots and carrying it home laid it on a straw mat in front of their door and beat the heads out with a flail.

Rice plants were pulled out by the roots and hung head down on high open walls or wooden framework which was made after a lattice fashion, about 30' long and 20' high. The last summer in Japan we had a camp bath fixed up for us, it was made of plank and held about 50 men at one time. It was electrically heated and at one time there was a short somewhere and we got quite a shock getting into the water. At the last, we were bathing three times a week, water about 115 degrees. Soap very scarce.

The slaps had a small brown bowl made of some plastic material and it was a standard measure for dishing out our rations, whether the meal was rice or barley, or millet seed, or a fine yellow substance known as "awa". The server out would get the wooden bucket on the ground between his knees, and using a wooden paddle, would pack the steaming mixture into the small brown bowl, and level it off. There might be a small dipper of stew to go with it or a piece of salty yellow daikon pickle, or two spoonfuls of grasshoppers. If the server saw he was going to be short, the cry would go forth, "Hold onto your rice" and the server would go around with a spoon and collect a spoonful from each or more, till he had made up the ration he was short.

At one time, we were getting so-called bread made from a mixture of ground bean flour and coryon flour. It was about the size and thickness of the palm of your hand, if cooked all the way through it was burned on the outside, if just crusty brown on the outside, it was dough in the middle, but it was a novelty and the mania of trading for food grew up, a "loaf" or bun of bread would trade for two brown bowls of rice. Then some fellow who was very hungry, or so hungry he thought he would rather have plenty to eat tonight and go hungry the next night would holler, "Whose got bread tonight for bread tomorrow night?" Some wag would answer, "I have a bun but I've taken a bite out of it!" "O.K.," the first man would shout, "I'll take a bite out of mine before I pay it back to you!"

In order to eat heavily for the present, some fellows would have their meals traded off for weeks ahead. Eventually they got in so deep they had everything going out and nothing coming in. The Major made the men turn in a statement of their indebtedness and laid down a routine whereby they could pay off at a meal a day. They were sternly forbidden to do any more trading. This didn't work as they continued trading, so the doctor took a hand, he ordered them to report to the hospital, he had their meals served there and watched them eat so they couldn't carry anything out to trade. They were known as the 8 ball club.

Labor was so scarce that gangs of convicts were put out to work on the dock close to us. They wore straw sandals and a light blue flimsy cotton coat and trousers and caps. They were the most depraved, degenerate looking specimens I ever saw, all bent over, fear, cunning, suspicion and hatred written on their faces. They were treated brutally. Their guards were in a fancy black uniform carrying a long sword, smug and complacent, drunk with power, childishly eager to "show off" in front of us and demonstrate their power of life and death over their miserable victims.

The biggest men I ever saw in Japan were in a gang of Chinese POW They could carry more than any Jap and seemed still to have some spirit. They had not been entirely broken.

One odd commodity we handled was what the Japs called "Mammy Cuss". It was soy beans compressed into a large round cake about 3" thick, 3' in diameter, principally used for stock feed, but we often saw hungry people eating it. It always brought on a violent attack of diarrhea.

The camp was a good mile and a half from the docks where we worked, but after a long days work, we were often forced to carry in bags of coal on our backs, or bundles of brush for fuel for use in camp. Or we took turns in pulling on the sleigh in winter, or cart in summer, that was loaded with rations for camp.

We received two Red Cross parcels while in Hong Kong (1942), they were from the British Red Cross and were like Manna from heaven. I was in Bowen Rd. military hospital at the time and Jack Hardy and I each put on a pound a day while eating the first box. We made it last seven days. It's hard to say what we enjoyed most of all, some said the can of condensed milk, some said the can of batter pudding.

While in Japan (1943-1945) we received four and 1/7 American Red Cross parcels. They were very good and a wonderful help to us, we often wondered what the Canadian parcels must be like, none were allowed to reach us.

I want to take this opportunity of paying tribute to Freddy Drover of Newfoundland. He was the finest Medical Orderly we ever had. The only Orderly who never lost his patience or his temper. He never lost hope and always did his best to inspire it in others.

We put on a few entertainments in our camp in Japan. Two Americans, Bill Barbour and George Francis were largely responsible for the concerts. Anyone at 5B will not soon forget the two plays, "Eadie was a Lady" nor "Romeo and Juliet". The bard of Avon might have been profoundly shocked if he could have heard Romeo borrowing Hamlet's speeches, but an audience of POWs was not critical.

The Jap staff enjoyed the third act of "Eadie was a Lady" so well, they ordered it repeated a second time. Was it only a rumour the Commandant was disappointed when he discovered that Eadie was no lady but only Sgt Ernie Neal masquerading as a lady? What would the commandant have thought if he could have seen Sunny Castro in the Biaderes at Shamshuipo?

The first B-29s we ever saw over Niigata were so high they were like a meteor streak, only the long vapor streams that followed them being clearly discernible. Half a dozen came over at different times in the spring of 1945, taking pictures I presume. Then in the summer, they started coming over at night dropping mines in the harbor, even dropped some on dry land! When they came over at night, all the searchlights in the countryside went on, all the Ack Ack opened up, and we were chased up on a high hill where a few fox holes had been dug and kept there till near morning. We only saw one B29 shot down in flames.

One forenoon, summer of 1945, we were on the Marutso docks working on the American side. The donkey engines or winches that worked the cables, swinging booms and nets that unload the cargo, were out of order, and so we had to climb down into the hold, load up the bags of rice on our backs, carry them up the ladder, drop them on the deck, while others carried them into the warehouse. I was one of a dozen in the hold when the air siren went, our foreman, old Seber-San, would not let us out of the hold until he sighted the planes, and by time we gained the deck, they were right over us. They were American fighters, and some said there were 15, some said 20. I did not wait to count. They were after a gunboat in the harbor about a half mile from us. She opened up with everything she had and the noise was deafening. She made it too hot for them and they sheered away, then came back and strafed along the dockside, sank a boat a hundred yards from the one we were working on. Inside our warehouse, an Officer had a squad of soldiers drawn up at attention. When the planes dove on the gunboat, when the first deafening burst of gunfire smote their ears, the squad scattered like leaves before the wind. The Officer was left alone waving his arms, his shouted commands drowned by the pandemonium outside, and unheard and disregarded by his panic-stricken men. It was the only comic note in the whole situation.

In the beginning our camp 58 Niigata had 300 Canadians, then 300 Americans from the Philippines were sent in to join us in November of 1943. In early summer of 1945, about 50 Imperials, Royal Scots and Middlesex from Hong Kong (who had been in southern Japan for several years) joined us. In mid-summer, about 75 U.S. civilians who had been taken at Wake Island and held in China joined us.

Camp 5B Niigata

(180 miles north of Tokyo)

We had two Jap foremen for a long time. Ko Bio San or "Squeaky" and Sato San or the "Little Monkey". Squeaky was lazy, conceited and mean. He loved to sit close to a glowing charcoal brazier which he had placed in a well-sheltered spot and toasted dried fish over the coals, munch hera mommies while we worked out in the wind digging pig iron out of the snow and loaded it into cars. He delighted in cutting out our company soup at the slightest excuse. How he relished the phrase, "Osta soupa noda" (Tomorrow there will be no soup.). He rolled it over his tongue like a sweet morsel and his wicked little eyes glittered with malice. His idea of Company soup was daikon tops or greens boiled up. The other foremen would scrounge for our company soup, potatoes or fish or sometimes a little flour to thicken the soup or let us dig up and take to the shack a few of the millions of sprouting soy beans along the track. These bean sprouts, when about 2" long, are quite edible and rich in vitamins when boiled in soup.

The Little Monkey was one of the most active men I ever saw. We used to say all he needed was a tail and any zoo would be happy to get him. He was a hard worker and was never happy unless the gang was going at top speed. He loved to shout "speedo, speedo, speedo" and "hiko, hiko" at the line of cart men toiling past him. Unlike Squeaky, he was always ready to lend a hand stacking bags in a warehouse or packing the last layer of bags into the top of a freight car in a confined space. He was a wizard at that because he was so small, and yet so very muscular. Like all Coolies who had worked on the docks all their life, he was adept at using the hooks with which they handle all bags and use in countless ways.

Many men were unable to stand the gaff on account of illness and undernourishment. If a man was slow, it was a cardinal sin in the Monkey's eyes. He would puff out his cheeks and glare venomously while he fairly spat out the words, "srow, srow, dummy, dummy!" He would strip to the waist, though, and work inside a hot car till the sweat rolled off him while Squeaky strutted around with his hands in his pockets.

All the lame and the halt were put in the "gizzie, gizzie gang" which might be put at odd jobs as they were not in shape to carry bags of beans weighing 180 pounds, though when the whole gang was on beans, some who couldn't carry could keep busy sweeping up loose beans and shovelling them into straw sacks, or carrying drinking water, or pulling or rolling sacks from the top of the pile or keeping tally with the 4.'mombo" sticks, this latter is one of the most primitive customs. Each time a bag of beans came through the door, one man would take a stick (a small hardwood stick about an inch and a half wide by 6" long) out of one box and hand it to someone else who-would gravely place it in another box. But as a rule this job was handled by Nips and Coolie girls. One heavy dangerous job was unloading large packing cases full of paper. I never knew paper could be so heavy in the bulk. One of our men was badly crippled (Carl Jonesson) by a falling case in the car, that struck his knee. Other paper came in huge round rolls. We loaded some sort of pickled greens in wooden kegs, some in straw bags so rotten they were falling apart, had been stacked on the dock tor months but we loaded it into freight cars and it was shipped out. I can't imagine what for, or where, it was only fit for fertilizer. We handled wooden kegs of daikon and cucumbers which were packed in bean curd. We carried many tons of salt on our shoulders all in straw bags while in camp, salt was a luxury. Which reminds me of one time in camp when each man was issued with a rare treat, a slice of watermelon for supper, and one man hollered down the hut, "What's the offer on a slice of watermelon?" There was a moment's silence and he added, "There's a little salt sprinkled on it." Instantly, three guys yelled, "What do you want for the salt?"

First the "Monkey" was called up for the Army and a few months later, "Squeaky" went the same way. He really cleaned out the shack when he left. (He had been accumulating some large reserves of beans, rice and flour in his compartment in our mess shack). There was snow on the ground, I remember, the day he left, for he had a big load on a small wooden hand sleigh and had two of our men push it part way for him.

The Coolies who worked on the docks really lived well as they had access, unofficially, to all the foodstuffs which came in or went out by ship or train and you never saw a dock laborer, male or female, going home at night without something wrapped up in their apron. All wore aprons during work, canvas on the outside and some soft material on the inside. Whenever they were carrying anything, they had the apron over their head and shoulders for protection, when handling pig iron it would be tied 'round their waist, the stacker stacking rice sacks in a warehouse had an apron to his ankles. The women who worked on the docks were very short and very heavily built and carried 180-pound bags of soy beans just as easily as the men. I am speaking of the young women. The older women of 40 and 50 worked in a gang by themselves at less strenuous jobs. They wore straw sandals and a peculiar straw headgear.

Old Sebu-Sam, or the "Biscuit" as we nicknamed him, was an odd character even for a Jap. He wore glasses, a bushy black beard and had two gold (they looked like brass) teeth in his upper front, then a silver tooth, then two more gold. His favorite expression, when enraged, was "Demerica, Demerica" or "dis, dis". His common every day words (cuss ones) were the same as Squeaky's and the Monkey's, "baccaro" and "konyaro". But the Biscuit actually took a queer sort of personal pride in his gang, in us in fact. He bragged to the other warehousemen, or to the Marutso office staff about how much work we did. When we had so many cars of rice to load at Marashang's, and ran up and down that plank till we finished in record time, he fairly beamed. When canned milk powder was stolen from a warehouse and a search proved we at least had none on our persons or in our haversacks among our mess kit (at the time) but several of the Spanish boys among the Yanks did have some, the Biscuit fairly glowed with delight. We were his white haired boys on that one momentous occasion at least. He searched us first, sick at heart, angry and sorry at the same time, and when he found nothing, he was flabbergasted, incredulous, amazed, but oh, so relieved and so happy. His solemn confidential warning, accompanied by a sober head shaking for days afterwards was "Stealo dummy dummy, segoto taxon, sabis taxon, stealo taxon, sabis Nu, stick many many, OK?", which being interpreted in a broad literal way meant: "It is very hard to steal, if you work hard, we'll give you something for it, if you steal, we'll give you nothing, but beat you many times, do you understand?"

The only expression of ours which the Nips picked up was "O.K.". It spread like wildfire, even the urchins in the street shouted it after us.

Sigga-hara-San, or Henry as we called him, was the one comic among our foremen. He was a very pompous individual who took himself very seriously and yet seemed to be one of the few Japs who had a sense of humor. He was a regular parrot, if an English sentence was repeated to him three or four times, he could repeat it quite readily and pronounce the words, a thing extremely difficult for the average Jap. If Henry could have dreamed of the meaning of the lurid phrases he was taught, or realized how he was defaming himself, his origin and his habits when he glibly repeated them on all occasions when he had an audience, he might not have been so pleased, when we went into gales of laughter.

I have heard plenty of the boys say they never want to see or taste rice again but if I have it the way my mother used to prepare it with milk and eggs and sugar and spice and raisins, I'll eat it and I'll enjoy it too.

Food and freedom were the two main topics of conversations over there. Some fellows collected recipes and raved about what they would eat when they got home. One long, lean Yank from the Arkansas Mountains said he hoped he'd be home in time for Thanksgiving. When asked what he'd have, he said, "bear meat and beans".

The Christmas of 1944-1945 was a great improvement over the one the year before. The day was declared a holiday, each man received an American Red Cross parcel and some mail came in. I received a letter from my brother John (it was only a year old), had a photo in it, the only photo I received while a prisoner, of Kay and the two little boys, Donald and Graeme, sitting beside the decorated Christmas tree. I really got a lump in my throat. Everyone around wanted to see the picture, if one man looked at it, I bet fifty did.

The kitchen staff had been hoarding up a few extras to give us good meals on Christmas and along with the parcel, I'm sure everyone was full for once. We had a concert and it was one of the best English concerts ever held in Japan. Red Barlow as Little Red Riding Hood (in the play by the same name) brought down the house when he cried in a shrill falsetto, "But Grandma, you've got a nose just like Humicky's!" (Jimmy Durante's nose was small compared to Humicky's).

If I recall correctly, the last day we ever worked on the Marutso docks was the 18th of August. That morning on our way out to work, a B-29 went over at a great height dropping millions of leaflets, they looked like snowflakes fluttering down, the air currents would take a great swirl of them off in one direction and then back again. They began to fall several hundred yards ahead of us. The Jap civilians were picking them up and reading them. When they saw us, they began tearing them up. Our guards were running back and forth along the sides of the column to make sure we did not pick any up, but one of our boys managed to and when we reached camp at night, we got hold of our interpreter and learned that Russia was in the war. Then we were put to work carrying in large green evergreen logs from the pine forest that covered the sand hills behind the camp. A few days of that and we ceased work except for camp fatigues. On August 23, we got a new Camp Commandant (very clever to spirit away the old one before things broke wide open). The Imperials nearly mobbed Major Fellows (the American Major who ran the camp under Jap jurisdiction) because our rations were so small. A huge sign about 20 x 30 feet was erected on the hill behind the camp, black and orange, lettered POW, for identification by aircraft.

At twenty to nine on August 25, 1945, a flight of American planes flew over our camp, circled, wheeled, dived and rolled, eleven Sikorsky's, one Gruman fighter. We all crowded in the square and waved our hands and yelled our heads off. It was a time of great rejoicing; we felt we were almost free.

This afternoon two different flights came over, dropped some toilet articles, cigarettes, chocolates, books, magazines, etc. Thereafter, every second or third day the B-29s began to come over and opening their bomb bays, would vomit forth 40-gallon steel drums full of food supplies. Sometimes they would be in twos, the bottoms welded together. Too often they broke away from the parachutes and dropped like a stone and when they hit the ground, they crumpled up like paper. It was maddening to see tomato juice sprayed over the ground. At times the dropping supplies were quite dangerous. A Japanese woman 200 yards outside the camp was struck by a case of canned peaches. Sgt N. said it was the best thing that ever hit her! But it killed the poor woman. One of our men saw a drum dropping through the tree tops, he leaped right out of his wooden sandals and ran. When he went back to look for his sandals, they were beneath the drum.

Several bales crashed through the roofs of our huts. One pilot dropped a bale right through the middle of the big POW sign, others dropped their loads as far away as a half mile from camp. We had to form a picket line around the outskirts of the area to keep the Japanese civilians away. Most planes flew too low and did not give the chutes a chance to open, but the ones who flew high and judged accurately, provided a wonderful spectacle for us, when the chutes opened and slowly drifted down, they were a beautiful sight. They were white, blue, red, orange and green. They were fascinating to watch for they brought food, and food meant life.

A curious little incident when American planes were dropping supplies into our camp, a chap whose name was Kipling (his father was a guide who took rich fishermen into the northern lakes) said to me, "I wish we could have some fresh eggs; let's walk to the nearest farmhouse and trade a dozen chocolate bars for some eggs." I agreed, so we walked across the fields and knocked at the door of the first house we came to.

The door was opened by a painfully timid Japanese lady, we stepped inside, there were six adults, three females and three males. They all stared, speechless. I took the bars out of my haversack and placed them on a low table and said, "Trado chee chee tomoggan." A lady promptly handed me a woven straw bowl with six eggs in it. I said "Domo arragatto" and we left. Not a sound, not a word was uttered by the Japanese!

We walked back to our camp knowing we couldn't dare to show our booty to anyone. We picked up a tin can, half filled it with water, started a small fire, and boiled them. As we chipped off the shells, K. murmured, "If only we had a little salt!"

When the first planes came over, Major Fellows persuaded the Japanese interpreter to go with him to Tokyo and make arrangements for our camp to be evacuated. We really gorged on the supplies dropped to us and had American K rations to carry with us on our train trip. We left 5B forever on September 5th at night. When we left our camp the guards were still armed and the nearest Americans were many, many miles away. We rode in trucks to a lonely part of the railroad far from any station, and still a small curious crowd collected out of nowhere.

During my four years that I was away, I received about a dozen communications. Most were issued to us after the war was over and were waiting in camp for our release, some had been held up many months. After I reached home and my 40 days leave was half over, I received a parcel from my parents which had been sent to me in 1941!! It had reached Japan as it had Japanese characters stamped on it; my brother Jim looked over the contents, he had helped pack it. 'Well," he remarked, "it's been strafed, the chocolate bars and the soap are gone!" It had evidently laid out on the deck or in a leaky warehouse as the clothes were quite musty. Later on I got a Xmas card from McKenzie King for 1943!

When we had quit work on the docks and before the first plane dropped anything in camp, naturally the wildest rumours were rife and I scribbled this down:

When we shake the dust of Nippon from our shoe,

And our days of ‘segotoing' are through,

When Marutso docks are fading out of view,

And we're eating, yes, and drinking with the crew

Of the ship that's sailing home across the blue

Then perhaps we'll realize this news is true!

It was one of the Middlesex on the train to Tokyo who quoted Kipling's:

Trooping, trooping, trooping to the sea,

Here's September come again, the six-year men are free,

We must leave the dead behind us, for they cannot come away To where the ships a coaling up that takes us home today.

We're going home, we're going home,

Our ship is on the shore,.

And you must pack your haversack

For we won't come back no more.

Oh don't you cry for me, my lovely Mary Anne,

For I'll marry you yet, on a fourpenny bit,

As a time expired man.

SEPTEMBER 5, 1945

CAMP 5B NIIGATA; JAPAN

Tonight we are leaving this camp forever. A lot of the men have been trading off their blankets and their old clothes to the Japs down in the village for Said. Moonshine Moneham is dancing, shouting and giving his famous imitation of a train whistle. The one time model camp for cleanliness, discipline and order presents a startling contrast. So much food was dropped from the air the ground is littered with tins (empty of course), boxes, cardboard, paper, rubbish scattered about. Men, shouting, singing, and staggering about. For once, for the first time, the Jap guard is very quiet, modest and self-effacing. No more strutting and swaggering. At 8 o'clock tonight, clad in our new raiment dropped from the air, we climbed into buses and drove to the nearest railway track, no station, not even a siding, just a lonely stretch of track. Before the last truck left, our bugler played the Last Post. We waited in the dark by the track for a good hour. We are carrying dry K rations and a can of fruit juice, all dropped from the air. We rode all night, very cramped, never slept a wink, as dawn broke we neared the vast area of ruins that was once Tokyo. We changed to an electric train at 7:30 and many men in an exuberant mood, threw gum and bars at every pretty face they saw near the track. We finally reached Yokohama at 8:30. Got a thrill when we saw the first American troops, sentries posted, MP's and, most marvelous of all, white women! American Red Cross nurses, they actually looked beautiful. A great day!

We piled into trucks and rode for five miles. Saw engineers at work, big cats, bulldozers levelling ruins. We reached the docks, entered a large warehouse fixed up by the Red Cross, saw more nurses, and a long counter piled high with golden doughnuts and steaming cups of hot coffee, wonderful. I ate more than I should, spoke to a Red Cross nurse, Miss Opha Thompson of Belmont, Iowa.

Our group was called away so we had to go. Our kits were sprayed and disinfected, had a good shower, filled out a long questionnaire, name, age and ailments, etc., then we had an X- ray; through a long line of doctors who checked us on most points, filled out another questionnaire and sent a wireless message home to our people.

Met Major McDougall, a Canadian officer who took our pictures. Then we climbed into trucks, rode five miles, then climbed down into a Higgins boat, a powerful motorized barge, square across each end. We covered about three miles in a smother of foam, leaving behind at the docks, two big, white, beautiful hospital ships, the U.S. Marigold and the U.S. Benevolence.

We reached the Ozark, a transport for troops and vehicles, regular cruiser hull, a crew of 450 capable of carrying 800 troops, armed with five inch guns, 8-40 mm guns and 4-20 mm guns. Built in 1941. Saw action off New Guinea where she took off 1,000 wounded Marines. She is 460 feet long. We filled out another questionnaire as soon as we boarded her, then given a ticket which showed us to our berths. We sleep on hanging shelves, one above the other, four high. At three o'clock, we had ice cream served to us, it seemed as though nothing ever had tasted so good. When supper came, it seemed too good to be true. We had meat, potatoes, salad, spinach, bread, pie, jam, an orange and hot cocoa, saw a talkie movie on the upper deck, went to bed, and slept like the dead on a clean white sheet and white fluffy pillows.

September 7, 1945: Wonderful breakfast. The American Navy live like kings. Bread, butter, bacon, hot cakes so rich, so light, so fluffy they melt in your mouth and coffee and an orange. Where we are anchored inside a breakwater, the sea is almost as smooth as glass, only tiny surface ripples. Yesterday was very hot, today is cooler, quite a heavy mist. Conditions on the Ozark are almost ideal. No fatigues (yet), no officers, no PT The drinking water is ice cold and of excellent quality.

Most of the ship's crew wear blue denim trousers, faded from many washings. No one is allowed to wear shorts on the upper deck. This afternoon served with ice cream at three, also an apple and an orange. Tonight in the show, there was a sports review of Eastern Canada. Saw the kilties, heard pipe band of Highland Regiment, saw Canadian Mounties, brought a lump into my throat to see them marching in a parade to the bagpipes.

September 8: Two Canadian officers just out from Canada were here. The boys bombarded them with questions till I think they were glad to go ashore. Noon today, this ship is underway, headed for Guam, 1,400 miles away.

Sunday, September 9: A Catholic service on the upper deck but it rained. Cleared up for the Protestant service later. Chicken, Maryland style for dinner, delicious.

Wednesday, September 12: We sighted the Island of Guam about 5 o'clock this morning. Reached pier about 7. A great deal of activity here. Ships loading, and unloading, trucks of every size, some monsters, racing here and there. Caterpillars, bulldozers, etc., all busy. We left the ship and climbed into trucks and buses and drove for miles over a splendid hard wide smooth road which had a continuous stream of traffic running both ways. Passed hundreds of Quonset huts, cheap and quickly put up, fine for hot, dry weather but no good for the heavy rainstorms which are raging now. The rain drives in the windows which run the full length of the hut and have no glass, only wire screening. We are getting thorough medical checking up and general examination. The food here is wonderful and all you can possibly eat. I wrote an airmail letter home today.

September 13, 1945: The rains continue. Quonset huts are leaking. Tonight Charlie Ruggles in person and Mary Brian, and a cast not so well known, put on a show in the mess hall. It was very funny. I asked Charlie for his autograph which he gave me most willingly, but forgot to ask me for mine. He was in a hurry anyway.

September 14: Windy, rainy weather. Paid $5.00 by American Red Cross.

September 15: Last night we filled out a long questionnaire on war crimes. Now we are getting a form filled out for clearing us from the island. Tonight we boarded the Ozark again.

September 16: Tied up to the wharf all day. More repatriates boarding, boat packed to capacity. Weather hot, the island of Guam is 28 miles long and 6 wide, native dark brown in colour.

September 25: We pulled into Pearl Harbor today. There was a coloured band on the dock playing "Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here". A dozen American officers, three or four white women (one with a little girl about 2 years old), a clown in costume with huge flapping feet, whose favorite trick was pulling ladies lingerie out of sailors' blouses, a WAAC or Wave, was looking everywhere for her brother among our ship's personnel, finally found him, a Russian, M.S. Two American women met two very dear friends after what must have been a long separation. One lady hung four leis, or flower wreaths, around her lover's neck. It looked kind of silly to me but he didn't seem to mind it. I guess all depends on who hangs them on you. They went off arm in arm and we all heaved a deep sigh.

The Marines were allowed off the ship an hour before us, were issued new uniforms and another $50.00 in pay They were given $100.00 at Guam so they bought out the nearby stand of all its' pineapple juice, when we got off there was nothing left so we went back to the ship. The show tonight was Donald Duck.

September 26: There are a lot of ships here in Pearl Harbor, many anchored, others coming and going continually. A big aircraft carrier across the bay. Her crew all in white lined up for inspection, look like penguins. Planes seem to be in the air continually, all sizes and models.

We have a huge streamer floating from the top of the mainmast. It has a star for every officer on board and a foot in length for every member of the crew. It is red, white and blue in colour and is borne aloft by five large balloons. It serves as an announcement to all and sundry that we are HOMEWARD BOUND. Two wonderful words.

A large Canadian hospital ship is anchored near, the Leticia. She left Halifax September 1st. Supposed to be going to Manila.

Twelve noon, pulling out, bound for Frisco, should make it in five days.

October 2, 1945: A dense fog this morning, first sighted a buoy with a bell on the top that tolled dismally, then a coast patrol boat, more channel buoys, and finally the dim outlines of the Golden Gate Bridge. Then shortly after we passed under the huge span, a ferry with about 200 beautiful girls aboard, a band playing, "California, Here I Come". A big banner on the side, WELCOME HOME, came careening alongside. The girls all waving like mad. We didn't wave, much!

Ship docked at noon, huge crowd, two bands played "The Star Spangled Banner" first, then "0 Canada". Many joyful meetings, about a thousand Americans left the ship right here, but we were not allowed to set foot on the dock. About two, we disembarked onto a ferry which took us across the bay to Fort McDowal on Angel Island, supposed to be the oldest U.S. Army post in existence.

We climbed a steep hill to the barracks, fell in and got paid $20.00 per man. Had a speech from the Adjutant General of Canada. Then an excellent supper. I drank four large cups of milk.

Italian POW are working in the kitchen and mess hall here. They look very fat, greasy and happy. They have all they can eat and are paid 60 cents a day in American money. Tonight we saw a horror show with Boris Karloff, a bit of a newsreel showing the Allied occupation of Hong Kong. Slept well in spite of fog horn blowing continuously out in the harbor.

October 3: Splendid breakfast, all the milk we could drink, eggs, pineapple jam, etc., and fresh fruit, both pears and apples. This forenoon the amplifier was broadcasting a game between Detroit and Chicago. The latter won 9-0. I sent a few postcards home. Excellent dinner, beefsteak, ice cream, etc. The only effect the good food had on our men aboard the Ozark, while crossing the Pacific, our legs and feet became swollen. Our feet were so big we couldn't get our boots on. After dinner we boarded the ferry and crossed the bay under the Oakland Bridge. It has heavy traffic, trains, streetcars and motor cars. Reached shore and found a train waiting. It pulled out at five, regular Pullman, Negro porters, diners, hospital cars, air conditioned, windows must be kept dosed or it won't function. Roast turkey for supper. Pullman bed is certainly comfortable, clean white sheets, deep, soft mattress.

October 4: Heading due north. Snow covered peaks on either hand, then into a country of rolling hills, heavily timbered at first, dwindling into level plains and finally farmland. This is a long train, 18 coaches. Reached Klamath Falls about nine. On a siding stood a string of flat cars loaded high with huge logs.

Out into farmlands again, combines working in the fields. Now passing through a chain of lakes on either side and into hills covered with Jack Pine.

When we saw Mount Shasta, we had left California and entered Oregon. Passed thru quite a number of tunnels, saw another large lake, some splendid timber, deep gorges, vast canyons farm below. More tunnels. I've counted eight so far. Some huge peaks running up beyond the canyon.

At one stop in Oregon, we were only a dozen yards from an apple orchard. A lot of fruit on the ground beneath the trees. Jenkins and I almost persuaded Red Barlow to raid the orchard for us. We pushed him off the train and encouraged him with threats till he was at the fence, when a large dog came up and showed his teeth and Barlow lost heart.

October 5: We pulled into Seattle about 6 this morning. Climbed off and boarded the Princess Alice for Victoria. Docked at noon, tremendous ovation. Piled on buses, drove out to Gordon Head Camp, about 4 miles, issued with uniforms, kit, etc. I wired home.

October 6: Dashing here and there all over camp today getting badges, flashes, ribbons, then the long line-up for our medical examination, even took our finger prints and our photos. A big crowd waiting in the tailor shop to have flashes sewn on battle dress blouses. While I was waiting there, who should walk in but Ewing McLaren, my second cousin, and Robert Harper whom I used to go to school with at Paramount. It was great to see someone from near home. We talked for several hours. Then Millis and I went to the canteen and drank milk and listened to one of the Red Cross volunteers play the piano.

October 7: Roll call in the drill hall, checked our kit, took buses at 10, drove to park, Marched to the dock. Met Robert Harper and his wife again. They gave me a very tasty lunch and a number of issues of the Reston Recorder, the old local paper, so I got caught up on a little news though much was mystifying. It's hard to bridge the gap made by four years.

Boarded a ferry, good smooth sailing, reached Vancouver about 5:30, enormous crowd, band, cheering, met McSween, train waiting, crowd surging up and down alongside, hunting relatives, pulled out later, very tired. Wired home.

October 8: We are in the Rockies, trees in all their glory of autumn colour. A rushing mountain torrent zig-zagging by, but always roughly parallel to the track. It is shallow now, and rocky but swiftly flowing. The sun is setting now and we are in the foothills of Alberta. A great welcome at Calgary, a band, crowds, all auxiliaries of every denomination on the platform with doughnuts, coffee, chocolate bars and cigarettes.

I wired ahead to Regina and Kipling. Cousin Dave Forsyth, his wife and son, were on the platform bearing gifts when the train pulled into Regina. It was certainly good to see them.

My Aunt Florence, Uncle Tom, Lillian, Larry and Betty Toppings were on the platform at Broadview. I could hardly believe my eyes, the way the children had grown up. It was amazing.

Onto the train again and speeding eastward, each man has been issued a gallon can of condensed milk by the Red Cross. Bears the label Powdered High Protein Milk Supplement. We stopped for a few minutes at Elkhorn and big Tommy Thompson (the strongest man in the Royal Rifles) spying a woman on the platform with two babies in a carriage, stepped off the train and dropped his can into the baby carriage. "Lady, here's something for your babies," he said. The mother was so utterly astonished she could hardly thank him.

It was dark when we pulled into Winnipeg. Said good-bye to Austin Roberts and Jimmy Webb and other Rifles we had known so well. The rest is history. It was all in the papers next morning. The biggest crowd that ever jammed the station: The wildest, most excited mass of surging humanity I every saw.

The thrill, the joy, the heartfelt gratitude of being spared to meet my loved ones again. My own family, my own friends, my neighbours. "Kiss all the girls you can, while you can," was the sage advice of my brother Jim. "In a couple of weeks time, they will be slapping you again!"

Canadian bones in Hong Kong,

Enjoy profound repose, But I wouldn't be astonished if,

by now, their spirit knows, The reason of their transfer,

From the Canadian snows. And when the final bugle

Across the Island throbs, When the last grim joke is entered,

In the big, black book of "jobs'',

When Honk Kong's graveyards give again,

Their victims to the air,

I wouldn't like to be the man

Who sent Canadians there.

— with apologies to Rudyard Kipling.

There is always something you forget to enter into a diary which I believe is worthy of mention. The first Dutchmen I ever met were the crew of a Dutch submarine in Camp 5B in Niigata. (A slip of the pen, we met them first in POW Camp in Hong Kong). One, a CPO, was kind enough to dictate their story to me in verse which I copied down. I tried to imitate his pronounciation as I wrote and other little oddities of speech; their English was remarkably good I thought:

Here is what I promised then, the story of our tub,

The story of 39 Dutch Navy men, fighting with their sub.

It happened in the "begin" of war, under Kota Baroes Coast,

Alone from other Allies for we were at our post.

Discovered by a Jap plane, under the "survace" we stayed,

From early in the morning rain, till the same evening late.

Japs destroyers dropped their bombs exactly at our place,

They tried to make the sub our tomb, who never turned back to base.

We wait that day till sun was set and tried to come away

Unlucky the Jap destroyers met us when we were running at the bay

Because we could the boat not save, we all jumped in the sea,

And sent the 020 at his grave, but long we were not free.

When the sun was in the sky next day and the Jap patrolled that spot,

He saw us swimming in the bay, and picked up whole, the lot.

That is how they made us prisoners of war in December, forty- one,

They brought us to a place at shore and this war for us was done.

His rank, name, address and a little memorandum:

C.P.O. J. R. C. Van Wilsem

Kon Nederlandsche Marine

Dept. Van Odrlog

Den Haag Holland or Batavia N.O.T.

19:12-1941

020 CREW: 30 men

Lost in Boat: 6 men

Oversailt: 1 man (Commander)

Hong Kong: 1 man

Japan: 2 men

(Batavia, I think, was the Dutch name for Java. H.M.M.S. 020 was sunk about 150 miles north of Singapore.)

Two others I recall were Donders and Andy Koster. The latter worked on the "iron crew" on the Marutso docks.

A little on the lighter side . . .

This is a play based on fact.

Blame it on Spring!

(The year is 1940; the scene is Officers Quarters, Roblin Hall, Fort Osborne Barracks.)

A Second Lieutenant strides into the room used by the batmen looking after the officers "tack", shining buttons, polishing boots and belts, etc. Burden, the senior batman, calls him "The Guardman”, the rankers know him as Bucky. He carries a pair of smart ladies oxfords under his arm.

Bucky: These belong to a Lieutenant Nursing-Sister and I want them cleaned and polished and someone better do a far better job than they have been doing on my gear or you will all go back to straight duty and you know what that means—hours of drill on the parade square, a twenty-mile route march every second day. Any volunteers?

(A chorus of groans goes up from the assembled batmen.)

Micky: (bites his lip) All right, draw lots and if it isn't well done, you will all suffer for it! (He turns on his heel and stamps out of the room.)

(After much argument, the task is assigned to two rookies. Each takes a shoe and commences to work on it.)

1st Rookie: Who has Bucky got a crush on now?

2nd Rookie: It's Miss Barker! Did you ever see a girl for whom your soul you'd give? With a form like the Venus Milo, too beautiful to live? With eyes that would beat the Kohinoor, and a wealth of chestnut hair-

1st Rookie: Hold on there! Someone besides Bucky has a crush on her it seems.

2nd Rookie: Well, she's far too good for Bucky, that's all! Burden: Don't get into a feud with an officer; he always has the advantage!

2nd Rookie: When we finish cleaning and polishing, I'll put a note inside the toe of her shoe!

1st Rookie: Don't you dare! You'll get us both in trouble. We'll be sent back to straight duty and I hate route marches.

2nd Rookie: Well, I'm sick of being an Officer's servant. I didn't volunteer for this, we were just grabbed out of the ranks and ordered to report to Roblin Hall. I'm supposed to look after both Jones and Harper. Jones keeps telling me how he ordered a battalion to cross a river in northern Italy in W.W.I and half couldn't swim, so he ordered them to wrap up their big pack inside their ground sheet and use that as a float. He ordered a roll call on the other side and all the floats had made it!

1st Rookie: What about the men?

2nd Rookie: Well, you can't expect to be lucky with everything. He said men were expendable!

1st Rookie: How did Jones get across?

2nd Rookie: Oh, he had a boat!

1st Rookie: I might have known.

2nd Rookie: I have never collected the extra ten cents a day I'm supposed to be getting for this batman job. Harper keeps Me busy carrying letters to Miss Corke who is in hospital with appendicitis. He read me a note that I carried back to him. She said, "I like your batman. You better be good to him!" That is the only kind word I've heard since I joined the Army. I believe she really meant it! I think I'll write a poem and put it in the toe of Miss Barker's shoe. How does this sound: "Thinking of you, that's all I do. All the day long, all the night through. Missing your smile and the touch of your hand, — — etc.?"

Sammy Burden: How does that sound? I'll tell you, it sounds good for 28 days detention on bread and water, and loss of pay, and a dishonourable discharge, and the rest of your life spent in vain regret just because Miss Barker has wonderful brown eyes, and chestnut hair, and a form like the Venus Milo. Is it worth it?

2nd Rookie: Right now, I think it is. Ten or twenty years down the road, who knows?

"Oh, make the most of what we yet may spend,

Before we too, into the dust descend.

Dust into dust, and under dust to lie,

Sans wine, sans song, sans singer, and sans encl."! 1st Rookie: Now you're quoting that old Persian again. What did he ever leave? Only a memory!

2nd Rookie: Will we leave anything more? (He scribbles a verse and tucks it into the toe of the oxford).

(Next day, same scene).

Bucky: (Enters the room. His face is dark with baffled rage. He shouts, "Room 'shun" and everyone springs to attention). Alright, what clown dared to write to Lieutenant Nursing-Sister Barker in such an underhanded way?

(Complete and utter silence).

Bucky: (Brings his cruel, hooked beak of a nose within inches of the second rookie, who gives him such a winning smile, the Looie loses all control and shouts,) "Was it you, you ignorant clod?"

2nd Rookie: (He turns pale, but retains his composure). It hardly seems likely Sir, that any ignorant clod, as you so aptly describe me, would even dare to conceive such a brilliant plan under such dangerous circumstances and possible dire consequences!

Bucky: (shouts) Did you or did you not put a note in Miss Barker's shoe? Your life may depend on it!

2nd Rookie: If it's that serious, Sir, I should be allowed to examine the evidence and see if I can recognize my own handwriting!

Bucky: Confound your impudence!

2nd Rookie: Excuse me, Sir, this is none of your business. This is between Miss Barker and me!

Bucky: (in a rage) None of my business, eh? I'll jolly well make it my business and when I do, you will curse the day you joined the Army!

Burden: (whispers to the second rookie) You know, you can be charged with insolence, even though you do not speak a single word!

2nd Rookie: How?

Burden: Just by your expression!

2nd Rookie: Once more, Sir, may I examine the evidence that may be my ruin?

243

Bucky: You can't. Miss Barker took it home to show to her mother! •

2nd Rookie: You mean to say, Sir, that she did appreciate what you choose to believe I may have written, and what you think I may have placed in the toe of her shoe?

Bucky: Of course not! Oh, how should I know?

2nd Rookie: Well, Sir, what did her mother think and should we let her mother be the judge of the whole affair?

Bucky: (grinding his teeth) Just leave her mother out of this!

2nd Rookie: But Sir, you are about her mother's age and would

be suitable for her mother. I am about Miss Barker's age, so —

Bucky: (screams) That's enough! You're under arrest! Fall in two men. Take the prisoner to the Guardhouse!

There are no happy endings! * Omar Khayya

Some other memorandum. . .

A letter written by Kay Christie, Lieutenant N/S, dated January 19/92:

Dear Tom:

As I proceeded to read the articles in this magazine, it occurred to me that you would find them of interest—and I hope you will. I have never found so many in a single issue that hiked so much. Maybe I didn't read enough of them.

My fear now is that in further paring their expenses, Imperial Oil will discontinue the publication.

Did you watch the Hong Kong film a week ago? I was ashamed of their choice of an "actress" to portray a Nursing Sister—she was an offence to all our 4,500 Nursing Sisters. Did you ever see any Nursing Sister with her untidy hair down over her face? And, something I certainly missed, one of the members at the R.C.H.I. pointed out that she wore coloured nail polish. He's a really sharp-eye! And all the nursing material was so inaccurate, even to the point of insisting that there were three Canadian Nursing Sisters over there. I've been very upset since seeing the film (on the Tuesday night prior to the TV presentation) and not being able to get Brian McKenna to make an apology on the list of acknowledgements.

Bob Clayton and Bob Manchester were excellent—everyone agrees on that and wishes that the Veterans of today had been allowed to say their own lines instead of the actors who were so artificial.

Well, enough of the griping. I understand the remaining films will be much the same in their own fields, so have not decided whether or not I'll watch.

Our frigid weather continues and the wicked wind makes it that much worse. However, six months from now we'll be complaining about the heat. We "hoomans" are never happy, 'tis said.

I hope Edythe has continued to improve even perhaps to the point of being at home again. That likely will make her feel more content than anything else, especially in saving you your two trips each day to visit the hospital.

With very best wishes to you both,

Sincerely,

Kay

P.S. No need to return the "Review"

A clipping from "You Asked Us": Today Magazine:

Question: Many Canadian troops were taken prisoner by the Japanese after the fall of Hong Kong in 1941. I once read about a couple of Canadian Nursing Sisters who were also imprisoned. What happened to them? LF., Edmonton.

Answer. Both nursing sisters, Lieutenant Kay Christie of Toronto and Lieutenant May Waters of Winnipeg, survived their grim ordeal, escaping the atrocities committed when Japanese troops overran the British Crown Colony. From the fall of Hong Kong on Christmas Day, 1941, until the following August, they were confined to the British Military Hospital, which the Japanese designated Prisoner of War Camp "A". Then they were transferred to Stanley internment Camp on the opposite side of the island. Rumours of their imminent release persisted throughout their internment. But the rumour of July, 1943 became fact; they learned that they were to be included in a repatriation of all remaining American and Canadian civilians in the Far East, under the auspices of the International Red Cross. On September 23, 1943, they boarded the Japanese exchange ship Teia Marti. This former cruise ship, which they called a "floating palace," was designed to accommodate 400 passengers. It presented a vastly different picture when carrying 1,530 people. At breakfast, before eating the congee (rice gruel), they sought out the tiny black 'extras' and the white rice worms; they knew only by the shape of the cup whether they were drinking coffee or tea.

After the official exchange at Goa the repatriates boarded the American exchange ship MS Gripsholm, which had arrived from New York with a corresponding number of Japanese civilian internees. Accommodations and food were markedly improved, and the women experienced considerable weight gains. After six weeks on the Gripsholm, they reached New York. On December 2, 1943, the Canadians reached home.

Both Nursing Sisters continued in the Royal Canadian Army Medical Corps until the end of 1945. May Waters returned to Winnipeg for a time but then worked in hospitals in Oregon and Hawaii. Now retired, she lives in Long Beach, California; she prefers the climate to that of Winnipeg. Not Kay Christie. One of her most vivid memories of the homeward odyssey stems from the morning when she went for her pre-breakfast walk on deck as the Gripsho/m steamed far north of Rio de Janeiro. "I felt that blast of cold, cold December wind and suddenly realized that that was one of the things I'd been missing for those two years," she says.

After the war, Kay Christie worked as a medical secretary in Toronto. She and May Waters exchange "annual reports" every year at Christmastime, but they have seen each other only once, in 1966, since they shared this footnote to the drama of Hong Kong.

Another letter, dated October 25, 1993:

Dear Mr. Forsyth:

I am Kay Christie's niece-in-law. On a recent visit with Kay, we looked through many photos and paperwork and came across the enclosed that appear to be of particular interest to you and your family.

Kay enjoyed receiving these photos and manuscript from you, however, she wanted to make sure that they were close at hand for you to pass on to whomever you feel would like to have them.

You may know that Kay is now residing at Sunnybrook. Although Kay is not able to speak on the telephone, she enjoys receiving letters from her friends.

Sincerely,

Ferne Middleton, Unionville, Ontario

PRISONERS FROZEN TO DEATH, SHOW SAYS TORONTO (CP) - Grotesque experiments were conducted on 3,000 prisoners of war by a secret Japanese army unit during the Second World War, the Fifth Estate says in a report to be broadcast Tuesday.

Some of the prisoners — Chinese, Russians and some Americans — were slowly frozen to death, gassed, dissected while alive or exposed to fleas infected with bubonic plague by the Japanese research group, known as Unit 731, the CBC-TV current-affairs show says.

The program says none of the unit's researchers was ever prosecuted for war crimes, even though U.S. officials knew about the experiments. Although similar human experiments led to war-crimes prosecutions in Germany, the U.S. negotiated immunity from prosecution in return for receiving the Japanese research material, the show says.

Prosperity

The segment, by co-host Bob McKeown, also reports that several of the researchers went on to prosperity because of their research, including Dr. Hisato Yashimura, now a consultant to Japan's massive Taiyo Fishery, and Gen. Masaji Kitano, of Green Cross, one of Japan's leading drug companies.

Writer Seiichi Morimura, who published a book last year detailing some of the units human experiments, is interviewed in the report. His book, titled The Devil's Feast, has sold millions of copies in Japan, where it has caused a public furor.

Morirnura says the experiments were conducted in a secret compound near the city of Barbin, in the Chinese province of Manchuria, before and during the Second World War

One of the unit's aims was to send to the U.S. a bomb containing fleas infested with a deadly bubonic strain, Morimura says.

McKeown also interviews 72-year-old Naoji Uezono, a book-binder who served as the unit's printer during the war. He says he read the reports and witnessed several experiments.

Uezono tells of seeing one study in which two naked Soviet prisoners were placed in a tank of water at 40 degrees C and slowly frozen to death. Another time, he says, he helped gas 50 to 60 prisoners to death after they became violent

Members of Unit 731 went underground after the war, says Uezono.

Taize Watanbe of the Japanese Foreign Ministry told McKeown an investigation was under way. However, three days after that interview, Watanbe called McKeown to say the case had been closed.

Epilogue

Having come to the end of Tom Forsyth's diary the reader may feel depleted; that there's nothing more to say; that it was a story with a good ending. But it's not a story. It's what happened. It's history. It's something to be learned from; something to know about; something to remember; something that must never be allowed to happen again.

At this point, it's with sadness that I say, "How soon we forget!" Maybe it would be more proper to say, "How easily Regiments are forgotten!"

To illustrate I quote first from the book titled "The Regiments and Corps of the Canadian Army" prepared by the Army Historical Section as Volume I of the Canadian Amy List, and published by authority of the Minister of Defence. Crown Copyrights are reserved on the publication listed under Catalogue Number DA 3-4764/1. It was printed under supervision of Roger Duhamel, F.R.C.S., Queen's Printer and Controller of Stationery, Ottawa, Canada - 1964.

The book illustrates the badge of the Winnipeg Grenadiers and describes it as "a grenade of 18 flames." Its motto is "Adsum", and its Regimental March "British Grenadiers". According to my count the Unit earned 18 Battle Honours during World War I and one Battle Honour in World War H. The WWII Honour is listed as Hong Kong, South-East Asia, 1941.

As proof that the Battalion was not the figment of someone's imagination, it was formed 1 April, 1908, and perpetuates the 11th, 78th and 100th Battalions, Canadian Expeditionary Force, 1914-1919, and the 10th Machine Gun Battalion, Canadian Machine Gun Corps, 1919:1936. Its headquarters, as illustrated by its name, was Winnipeg, Manitoba.

Taking a look at its Regimental family history, once again, it was originated 1 April, 1908, when the "100th Regiment" was authorized. It was redesignated: "100th Winnipeg Grenadiers," 2 May, 1910; "The Winnipeg Grenadiers", 15 March, 1920. On 16 November, 1936, it became the 10th Machine Gun Battalion, CMGC (authorized 1 June, 1919) and was amalgamated with the Regiment to form "The Winnipeg Grenadiers (M.G.)". With this information one can readily understand some of the first entries in Tom Forsyth's diary, when it mentions Machine Gun training. Finally, it was redesignated "The Winnipeg Grenadiers," 15 March, 1941.

If you pay careful attention to the following you will see that three Victoria Crosses were awarded members of the Regiment - two in World War I, and one in World War II.

FIRST WORLD WAR, 1914 - 1919. The Regiment contributed to the 11th Battalion, CEF, on its formation in September, 1914, and later recruited for the 78th and 100th Battalions, CEF. The 78th Battalion served in France and Flanders with the 12th Brigade, 4th Canadian Division from 13 August, 1916 until the Armistice. TWO members of this Battalion won the Victoria Cross: Lieutenant J. E. Tait, MC, on 8-12 August, 1918, and Lieutenant S. L Honey, DCM, MM, on 27 September-2 October, 1918. The 11th and 100th Battalions provided reinforcements for the Canadian Corps in the field.

SECOND WORLD WAR, 1939:1945. The Regiment mobilized "The Winnipeg Grenadiers (M.G.) Canadian Active Service Force" on 1 September, 1939. This unit was redesignated "The Winnipeg Grenadiers", 15 March, 1941. It served in Bermuda and Jamaica from May, 1940 to October, 1941. On 27 October, 1941, it embarked for Hong Kong, where it was destroyed while fighting in defence of the colony. Warrant Officer II J. R. Osborn of this Battalion won the Victoria Cross on 19 December, 1941. The Unit was reconstituted on 10 January, 1941 It took part in the expedition to Iciska as a component of the 13th Canadian Infantry Brigade Group, serving there from 16 August, 1943, to 22 December, 1943. It embarked for the United Kingdom on 25 May, 1944. It was redesignated "3rd Canadian Infantry Training Battalion, Type A (Winnipeg Grenadiers)", 1 November, 1944; "No. 10 Canadian Repatriation Depot, Type T", 5 July, 1945. The active unit was disbanded on 23 January, 1946. A 2nd Battalion served in the Reserve Army.

In a book presented to me by my son in December, 1992, "Ducimus - The Regiments of the Canadian Infantry", copyrighted by Canadian War Museum Canadian Museum of Civilization, under ISBN 9696421-0-5, "The Winnipeg Grenadiers" are rightfully shown as being retired to the Supplementary Order of Battle. In "Annexure 0" of the book, devoted to Victoria Cross winners of the Canadian Infantry Corps, only one of the three Victoria Cross winners of "The Winnipeg Grenadiers" - Lieutenant S. L. Honey, VC, DCM, MM, is recorded. Lieutenant J. E. Tait, VC, MC, and Warrant Officer II J. R. Osborn, VC, have not been included.

How soon brave men are forgotten! Or possibly, more to the point, their names are lost in records that were improperly kept in the first place - but why in one book and not in another?

In the introduction I mentioned having crossed trails with Tom Forsyth. Those trails would have been along rail lines and port facilities leading to the Atlantic Ocean, and at undefined points in the Pacific which culminated with his final arrival home. Since then our trails crossed in matters of interest to both of us, as will be described in the following paragraphs.

Christmas 1941 with its disaster at Hong Kong, did not go unnoticed as far as I was concerned. I had no doubt that someday we would have to "storm the gates" of the Japanese and release the Canadian prisoners taken at Hong Kong.

With the end of WWII in Europe Canadian ships came pouring out of the North Atlantic to re-organize for the

Pacific theatre. Ours' was the first ship to head south to warmer climates. This was the first time outside of Canada that our trails crossed. One day about halfway through the afternoon watch we saw a beautiful piece of island scenery. Behind it was mountainous terrain. Nestled into the side of the mountain was a city. Little was I to realize that it was Kingston, Jamaica. At that time I didn't know that we were in waters once sailed by Captain Morgan. Nor did I realize the Admiral for which we wore a "mourning band" around our necks had held command of a Naval Base in that very place.

Although we had no time to stop, later in my life I had occasion to live for a short time - twice as a matter of fact - on the side of that mountain. As part of the volunteer crew of a sailing yacht I had a chance to sail out of Kingston Harbour. I looked back at the shoreline from a distance and realized it was the same place - the same harbour where HMS Ajax and HMS Achilles had rested while patrolling in search of the German Battleship Graf Spee which was somewhere in the mid or South Atlantic Ocean at that time. The ships had impressed Tom Forsyth. He took pictures (found in this book).

There's also a picture of the scuttling of the Graf Spee after it was finally "bottled-up" in the Rio de la Plata, just up-stream past the mouth of Montevideo Harbour. When I saw Tom Forsyth's picture I remembered the time I stood looking down into the murky waters of the Rio de la Plata where the giant ship still lies in its watery grave. On reflection it seems Tom Forsyth and I had crossed trails at that moment too.

Parts of Up Town Camp are still standing in Kingston, Jamaica, and they still train troops on the parade square up in the mountains at Newcastle. At the time I was there Tom

Forsyth and I crossed trails several times. I was driven to Up Town Camp site, got out of the car, and walked into the administration building. My purpose was to do a mechanical analysis of a Heidelburg printing press. A small printing company was operating out of the building where Tom Forsyth had often reported for duty. That was in 1990. The front cover of this book shows a picture of the building as it was when "The Winnipeg Grenadiers" were there.

There's also a picture taken from the parade square at Newcastle. Regimental insignia of all the Units to serve at that location can be seen against the stone-reinforced side of the square. I have an idea the trees on the mountain-side above the camp, where we stopped for a picnic lunch, are the same trees that provided a shady rest-spot for Tom Forsyth and his fellow Grenadiers.

Moving on through the Panama Canal and on into the Pacific we finally turned toward home. This time we broke trail for Tom Forsyth's trip home to Canada. It was still at least a couple of months before "The Big Bang" occurred, the one that finally brought an end to hostilities in the Pacific theatre. This time I was making a trail that Tom Forsyth would cross some four months later. It was a trail in the waters of the Pacific.

I felt somewhat of a lift the day we watched a couple of U.S. ships appear on the horizon. There was no longer need for security, messages were sent in "the clear". The ships were carrying Canadian prisoners back to Canada. They were headed for Esquimalt Harbour. By that time Esquimalt Harbour was our anchorage point. As the ships closed and passed us on the way to the harbour, I may have waved to Tom Forsyth, and he may have waved to me.

Later that day as the submarine gates were closed and the normal precautions of a force that would never forget the safety procedures used in time of war were carried out, we finally relaxed. Our watch made its way to a streetcar and headed for Victoria. For the first time we saw the prisoners of war from Hong Kong, up close. Ifs another experience I'll not forget. Their physical condition was deplorable. Some were mere shadows of the men they had once been. Maybe one of them was Tom Forsyth. Nevertheless, although we knew their nightmares would continue for a long time - maybe forever - we were glad for both them and us that they hadn't had to wait for us to go and get them. Maybe none of us would have returned. Who knows?

I wasn't to learn until years later that a taxi, carrying a senior chaplain, had arrived at the dockyard while the U.S. ships were being nudged into the jetty. The purpose of the chaplain was to take one of the prisoners for a ride. He had something to tell the man whose name was George Porteous. It was a difficult task. Captain George Porteous' wife had died almost four years before. He had no way of knowing until that moment.

I didn't know of the tragic homecoming message until 30 years later when summoned to a hotel room in my own home city by the Lieutenant-Governor of Saskatchewan. In that room I was asked to be one of the Honourary Aides de Camp of a man I was honoured to serve. The man was none other than George Porteous. Needless to say I listened and learned more about the Canadians at Hong Kong.

Finally, a word about one of Tom Forsyth's good friends, Nursing Sister Kay Christie, and the nurses who served in war and peace - the ladies he has chosen to dedicated this publication.

After reading the final part of this book, the part where you'll find items from Tom Forsyth's treasure-chest of memories, all will recognize the kindness and devotion of Kay Christie. She was typical of the people of her profession; those who followed in the footsteps of Florence Nightingale. Sometimes, in today's world, when I see young ladies wearing military uniforms and carrying heavy weapons, I wonder at the wisdom of our ways. In the Hong Kong situation it was much better that Kay Christie was able to serve as she did, rather than be among the combat elements of the Garrison. No one who has ever had the misfortune of laying in a hospital bed will ever forget the people who looked after them. They were special people. They are special people. Through generations to come they will continue to be special people. That this diary has been dedicated to the memory of the late Nursing Sister Kay Christie, and all members of her profession who served in war and peace, is a touching tribute.

W. R. Warwick

Glossary of Terms

During World War II it was never easy to write letters, but it soon became evident that those who didn't write home seldom received letters from home. While in barracks situations some would find a secluded corner where they could have the privacy they need to do their letter-writing. Others would find a table in a military canteen, and still others would find their way to one of the hostels operated by organizations such as the Salvation Army, Knights of Columbus, Canadian Legion, Army and Navy Veterans' Association and others.

Since a diary was a personal thing; something one thought of as a personal way of remembering what happened each day, it was a natural habit to use a form of personally developed shorthand. Initials were used instead of names; military short-forms and slang jargon were all thrown together.

In this ebook most of the initials have been replaced with names, thereby allowing readers an opportunity to trace individuals and identify them as they read through the pages. As the chapters progress from beginning to end readers will find an easier usage of military terms. The reason being, that as training and familiarization with the Army developed, the writer became a relaxed professional who took the place of the new-entry recruit that started the diary in the first place.

Following is a glossary of some of the military terms:

IC Internment Camp

MQ Married Quarters

MP Military Police

NAAFI: Navy, Army, Air Force Institute

(known as a military canteen)

PO Post Office

Q M Quartermaster

QMS. Quartermaster Sergeant

C.QMS Company Quartermaster Sergeant

R.QMS Regimental Quartermaster Sergeant

QMS Could also refer to the Quartermaster Stores

U.K. United Kingdom

K D: Khaki Drill

R.C. Roman Catholic

R.E. Royal Engineers

CB Confined to Barracks

CO Commanding Officer

DB Detention Barracks

HQ Headquarters

PT Physical Training

RSM Regimental Sergeant-Major

J.I.V. Jamaica Infantry Volunteers

CSM Company Sergeant-Major

R.A.F. Royal Air Force

GMP Garrison Military Police

K.S.L.I. King's Own Shropshire Light Infantry

R.A.M.C. Royal Army Medical Corps

B.O.R. Battalion Orderly Room

Y M C A. Young Men's Christian Association

Y. Short term for Y.M.C.A.

A.R.P. Air Raid Precaution

POW Prisoner of War