One Day of Life as a Prisoner of War in Japan

Sendai B2

This day of life may be valueless and not understood by many but to the person who lived it, it is one that cannot be forgotten.

The day began for me at five o’clock in the evening, at a mountainous area near a village called “Tyra” Japan. I had been a prisoner of war now for thirteen hundred and sixty five days. That many days ago we surrendered to the Japanese at Hong Kong. Since then it has been a daily work just to survive the brutality without sufficient food, warmth, clothing, medicine, or hygiene necessities, we were infested with lice, fleas and bed bugs.

We had just learned of our Captors intention to put us in a mine and blow the mine up. This was to be our fate should the Allies land a force anywhere in the country. The signs of that happening were evident, there had been a marshaling of Japanese troops in the area, Battleship shells landing within sight of where we were, and bombing had been almost continuous. We had been brought here from Sham Shui Po Prison Camp in Kowloon, Hong Kong fifteen months ago to perform slave labour in an underground coal mine owned by the Mitsubishi Company.

This was the first day of our turn at night shift, every ten days we had a “Yassimay Day” a day of rest from work, the mine had two shifts of twelve hours. This was the beginning of our rotation.

My teeth were still aching and many had holes in them, a thick scale covered them, my shins were painful from sores running with a sticky fluid, I still had diarrhea, Berri-Berri and Pellagra were evident these were always present, most of my comrades were in the same condition, but the hunger pangs were something I never could get used to.

Our routine was to begin, the ”Benjo” reminded me of our outhouse on the farm, (no paper - on the farm we had Eaton’s catalogue), a quick wash with cold water, rinse out my mouth and use a piece of my shirttail to clean the sores on my shins, “Fall in” for Tenko, “Kioskiiii (attention)”, “Bongo (number off Ichi Nee San See Go etc. etc. etc “Smack” somebody caught one, and then the usual tirade of a guard shouting obscenities, “you are worse than dogs”, “Yassimay”

Now “Enmesh (evening food)”, it was the usual stuff a dipperful of cereal (Corean, rice, barley, soy beans,) cooked together, and a spoonful of bean curd (a salty preserved soy bean mixture), this was a better diet since we were able to exchange rice for soy beans with the guard cookhouse, although the ration was smaller, we also picked up our mine “Binto (lunch)”. It was a wooden box 31/2 X 4 x1 inch filled with the same.

Hurry! “Shingoto (work party)” We lined up again and were marched out the back gate along a mountain path for about a mile and a half to the “Mine Head”, there was our ride into the mine waiting at the Mine Main Entrance, we stopped and everyone had to bow to the mine, so that it would keep us all safe. (The Japanese believed in Gods,) whistling was forbidden.

The Tipple drum was large about thirty feet in diameter, it held over two miles of one-inch cable, it could also bring the filled coal cars up from the marshal yard at the bottom of the main incline shaft at speeds up to fourty miles and hour. Usually it hauled up to fourty, loaded cars at a time, each car held a ton. At the surface there was a spur track where our ride was waiting. We climbed aboard, we sat down in the bottom of wooden boxes that were attached to rail wheels, there were four men to a box, two facing two with our knees pulled up to our chin there was just enough room, the top of the box was just above my shoulder. We started down; one of the hazards was a derailment at high speed “Keep your head low” the roof of the mine was very low in some places, so that it was dangerous to sit upright. There were some 15-watt electric light bulbs strung at intervals along each shaft that barely provided enough light, it was DC current and light bulbs were added as the shaft went deeper, as the bulbs were added they became dimmer. The Shafts were all “Wag good (bridged)” this helped prevent cave-inns. I learned a very strange thing in that mine, the ceiling never lowered it was the floor that expanded slowly and constant. So everyone learned a Miners Walk, it meant walking in a crouched fashion, your head down, and your hands clasped behind your back, even then sometimes you would hit your head on the roof. Eventually it would become necessary to lower the floor to let the mine cars pass through the shaft. Air pipes were also strung in the ceiling and there were two copper wires about four inches apart run through insulators, this was the signal system to the operator of the main tipple. By making contact with the two it would ring a bell in his engine room. There was a man who “Rode the cars” he was called a “Norry-mass” and he carried a “T” shaped tool with an insulated handle to signal with

When we started down, we left our guards behind and now we were the charges of the mine foreman, the supervisor and Gendarme (The Japanese Gestapo). I am sure I was thinking the same as most of the men who were with me about one hundred of them, we were not all Canadians, What work would I be assigned? Would we have a reasonable quota? Why yesterday was so dark and such a hot warm wind blowing? Why was there all of the excitement in the “Kitsiabi (Japanese guard room)”? How much longer do we have? All the men looked worried, they had become silent and cranky. We must have all looked like men without hope. Maybe this is the day?

At the bottom of the main shaft we were met by our foremen, today I drew “Stupid” (we never used their full name when we talked about them they were oblivious to what we said).

This man was small and miserable; he was sullen and would lash out if provoked. He handed me twenty tags “Tampio”, these tags had a number on them with a six-inch wire and a hook. One was placed in a hole in the front of an each one ton coal car that was filled this was the tally record. He told me to draw the jack-hammer from the store room, that meant I worked the coal face, he chose four other men, they drew their scoop shovels from the tool room, we started to our assigned coal shaft, when we arrived we stripped our clothes off but left the “Fandosey (A piece of cotton cloth about twelve inches by thirty with a tie string at one end, it was tied around the waist the cloth passed between the legs and was pulled through the waistband, we left our “Tabbe shoes on, (shoes with a separated big toe and buttoned up the back)” Our hat was a pillbox type with a cardboard filled peak, it had a lace in the back that we kept our POW identification tag attached to. Over time it had become wet with sweat and the peak was all twisted, the tag was wilted and had turned black from coal dust.

The mine was warm, some of the shafts had temperatures to 130F degrees, and the formation was in volcanic ash that was pressed down with the weight above. It was a pale green colour and would sting if rubbed intro a wound. Hard coal has sharp edges, it can easily leave a cut or scratch, this also caused much discomfort. There was water as clear as crystal running through the shafts, but don’t touch it, it had seeped out of the ash. Air was supplied by forcing the outside air down a perpendicular shaft. Mine Gas was found in some places or pockets, this gas was fatal.

We were in luck; the day shift had left some coal at the face, we could start loading right away, the face where we would jack-hammer out the coal was six feet high, we could stand straight while we worked, the coal was hard, we may be able to get our thirty tones without blasting. We had pushed a couple of cars along the track, as close to the coalface as we could get, there would be a lot of shoveling. The track where the coal cars were was about twenty feet away and that meant two pitches and maybe three, it would depend on the coal seam. This is hard labour even for healthy well-fed men so we were always at a disadvantage. We all went about our work without talking much and then came lunch break. I was sweating and the sweat had run into the sores on my shins so I was able to pat them clean with a little water from my water bottle. Where was “Stupid”? He had disappeared all morning. Things were just not normal; we began discussing our situation. If this was the day, the method used may be to abandon us in the mine and blow up the main-shaft that way we could not escape and eventually we would perish. I had to use the “Benjo” again so I would try to search things out, not far from where we were there was an interlocking shaft and a shortcut to the outhouse, near the end of the shaft, by the mine office was an opening and there were many of the foreman sitting and talking, this was also unusual, I had to pass them and again coming back, there was “Stupid” he asked me how many tags we had left, he then told me we would be going up early. This attitude was unusual, he was almost courteous, I returned to the coalface and we began work. In the past the rule was that all POWs had to finish their quotas we were allowed to go topside. We were in a sad state of worrying, we knew things were not normal, but the best way to keep our calm was to work. We had one tag left when “Stupid” arrived and told us to pack up. We had decided if a serious threat presented itself we would take him “Out” and as many more as we could, this was also agreed by all of the men down here.

Nothing happened we packed up and made our way to the main-shaft, all of the other POWs working in the mine were there along with all the foremen, we got in the cars and were taken topside. There was no dayshift in sight when we came to the top; the sun was just beginning to show itself, to what would be a nice day. Our guards met us and we walked back to the camp, no one talked and everything was quiet, we took our “Binto” boxes back to the kitchen, “Newchie” the camp interpreter was there, he was accepted by us and we knew we could trust him, he made a statement! “They drop a big bomb” “It killed many people”, ”Somebody said” How many? “Maybe a hundred thousand” “Not enough” I went to him and said, “How many did you say”? Hundred thousand, “What kind of a bomb was that? (I had seen some of the big ones drop, eight thousand would be the limit)” “Some kind of atomic bomb” and he left.

No one else seemed to realize what was just said, I went to wash and to bed, but I couldn’t sleep for a long time, but finally drifted off, to be wakened suddenly by Cropley, a man who had suffered a back injury in the mine, he could no longer work and I had helped him when I could. “ED GET UP THE WAR IS OVER” I refused to believe him, we had heard similar rumors many times before, they only led to disappointments “Get out of here Cropley” Then I heard one of the greatest scroungers in camp shout “I am not going to eat anymore Dammed rice” It must be true, it must be true! I lay there listening to the and laughter, and exited voices of my comrades, I looked out on the assembly square and they were all hugging each other, with excitement.

It was true I began to shake a couldn’t stop, it was a feeling of utter helplessness, the tension began to leave me, but full belief was causing a fear that I may have a terrible disappointment, I got down on my knees and began to pray a prayer of thankfulness to God, I began to cry, and I finally felt at peace and that I was not alone.

Edward Shayler

Footnote: - During the wartime trials it was discovered, the Japanese Government had passed a decree to execute all Prisoners of War on September 15^th 1945. Children and women were to be poisoned

And the guards were authorized to flee because of mistreatment

To: Ed Shayler's Story - Day 1

One Day of Life as a Prisoner of War in Japan

Sendai B2

Ed Shayler's Story Day 2