TALES MY FATHER TOLD ME OF JAPANESE SYONAN-TO
The tales my father told me of the war years -- I regret that growing up I never took the time to extract more details from him. All I can recall are vague places and non-time specifics I heard as a kid.
My parents, together with my eldest sister who was 2 or 3 years old then, my uncle and family, and my maternal grandma, took flight out of the city on foot, like so many others. I think they resided in the "Goo Chia Chwee" (Maxwell Road) vicinity. Where they were headed I had no idea.
Grandma was one of those old Chinese ladies with binded feet (缠足 chánzú), a thousand year old tradition of ill-advised association of beauty and status which left the women folks with distorted feet and pain. Her condition slowed down the group. In typical tradition of matriarchal sacrifice, she made the group to leave her behind, promising she will find them eventually. Re-united they did, several days later. They were terribly surprised at how the old lady looked - wretched, haggard, and her whole body covered in black soot. Grandma told of how she slept in the open at a cemetery, waking up the next day to find her whole body drenched and coloured black. It had rained during the night, and the soot from the burning city came back down to earth with the pouring rain.
My folks fled Chinatown to somewhere I am guessing is the Alexandra vicinity. Like many others, they dug home-made air-raid shelters with concealed openings. There they stayed in misery for months, cowering in fear of the bombs, and later the marauding Japanese troopers. Like rats they lived there for months. Mother told us how the bare clothings they had on were all they had and how they turned to ragged tatters. When the little food ran out, they went scavenging whatever they could find and were reduced to scraping the soft barks of certain trees for boiling into some soupy meals.
After the air-raids, the situation had gotten very dangerous when the Japanese invasion began. The Japanese advanced with surprising speed via the Malayan Corridor and through the Causeway, entering Singapore on 9 February 1942. By mechanised means, on bicycles and on foot, they came. The British Army were totally unprepared for an invasion from the North. Expecting a naval invasion, the British had concentrated their resources on the coastal South. The small Allied forces were no match for the advancing Japanese. My father told of a fire-fight he witnessed personally one day while out scavenging for food. A small group of Australian soldiers were on a hill exchanging gunfire with a Japanese group. The Japs broke into two groups, one engaged in the fire fight and the other moving away stealthily to attack from another direction. It was of course the classic flanking attack but father described it in terms of "ang moh teet", a term literally meaning "white folks are straight", meaning not cunning in their thoughts. So the Aussies were unaware of a surprise attack from their flank.
This is a story told by a cousin who is still living today. She is, I think, a year or two younger than my eldest sister. Patrolling Japanese troopers had made the situation in the bomb shelter more precarious by the day. The atrocities of the Japanese must have been well-known by then. There was barely anything to eat as it became too dangerous to scavenge for food. Desperation had turned to despair. One day the adults huddled in discussion and came to the horrible decision to end it all in a suicide pact. How terrible the situation must have been to make a group of people preferring to exit the world, is something none of us can ever comprehend. They decided to wait till nightfall when the children have fallen asleep. First they will strangle the children, and then kill themselves. According to my cousin, eldest sister overheard the hushed conversation of the adults. Even at her age, eldest sis understood the horror that was to transpire. Scared out of her wits, she refused to sleep and remained active through the night. But for my sis, my family line would have ended that night. Thank goodness it was an impromptu decision of the day out of despair which never prospered. Sanity returned. My sis herself has never spoken of this. She is intellectually a little slow due to an unfortunate episode of untreated high fever in her youth.
I think my maternal grandfather was a victim of the Sook Ching massacre. His was a cenotaph burial as his body was never found. Some earth from the Changi site of the Sook Ching massacre was placed in his symbolic grave somewhere, but eventually reburied at Yio Chu Kang cemetery which we visit every 7th month "ghost festival".
The Sook Ching massacre (Feb-Mar 1942) targeted ethnic Chinese men suspected of anti-Japanese activities. Chinese males were forced to screening centres, screened and picked out for execution. Males of interest were those with tattoos which indicated association with triads (secret societies) who were seen as a sign of anti-Japanese or rebellious tendencies. I think generally, the Japanese were eliminating military-age males of Chinese ethnicity. The unfortunates were herded into military transporters and brought to the execution grounds on beaches at Changi, Punggol, Pulau Tekong, and forested areas such as Bukit Timah. All-in, an estimated 25,000-50,000 poor souls were slaughtered by firing squads. Some of these poor souls still haunt these killing grounds.
I heard from a direct source, a young man who was amongst those in a military truck headed for the killing ground. The condemned men knew the fate awaiting them and they decided when they debus at the site, they would all make a run for it in different directions. That was what they did. The desparados jumped out of the trucks and ran for their lives. That young man ran towards some wooded area, never looking back for one second and hearing the gunfire and horrifying screams behind him. He never stopped running for miles. One of a handful who lived to tell the story.
My father told of this story of a close brush with death. With Japanese soldiers patrolling the area, it was very dangerous to leave the concealed underground shelter to scavenge for food. Hunger however, was a strong motivator, plus the need to feed the kids. Father was silently pissed with uncle for his cowardice to leave the shelter and do his part to look for food. I think uncle's excuse was his tattoos will be his death sentence if caught by the Japanese.
As food got rarer, father's search got him further and further away. His scavenging took him some distance away where he came upon a deserted house. He thought he saw some chickens and delightfully entered the wooden structure. To his horror he came face to face with two Japanese soldiers who were also searching for food. Then, to his great amazement and relief, the Japanese soldiers spoke to him in Hokkien. They told him not to be afraid, they will not harm him. They warned him to be very careful in future as the next batch of soldiers that will come after them, the "Ang Chews", (red beards) are ruthless. This episode had me puzzled for years, but I left it at that and never dwelt deeper.
On one fateful day, father crept stealthily out of the relative safety of the hideout and never returned. His tyrst with danger had gotten on too long and his guard had dropped somewhat. He had began to take higher risks. His luck ran out that day. Turning a corner, he bumped smack into a Japanese patrol. They toyed with him and tormented him for a while, laughing as they pushed him around. Tired of the game, one soldier finally bayoneted him right at his abdomen. The thrust was brutal and the 16 inch blade protruded out his back. Father slumped to the ground. He was lucky to still have his wits with him and feigned instant death as the soldiers gave a couple of kicks to check if he was dead.
Lying agonisingly still for what seemed like hours, the sound of retreating footsteps fade away as the Japanese soldiers nonchalantly left the scene. Sure that he was alone, father finally struggled to his feet. Clutching his abdomen, he straggled along a footpath in his pain and confusion. A chanced meeting with an Indian gentleman saved his life. Some intestines had oozed out the frontal wound. The good Samaritan used father's singlet to wrap around the tummy to keep the intestines in. He then carried father and made their way to Alexandra hospital. In the tumultuous time and the chaotic scenes of the hospital, father somehow survived and recuperated. By divine grace, the bayonet had miraculously missed damaging any organs. He lived to bear evidence of the war with one big frontal scar near the navel and a smaller one where the exit wound was. For much of his later years, father lived unforgiving of the Japanese people.
At the hospital, father witnessed untold atrocities of the Japanese towards Europeans, including those tending to the sick. He had already heard about the massacre at the hospital on the first day of the invasion where a group of Japanese soldiers slaughtered hundreds of patients and staff. The days when the Kempeitai conduct inspections were traumatic. Hospitals treating Chinese civilians and foreigners were under particular suspicion. Patients with shrapnel and gunshot wounds were targeted. Summary executions were common. It was a wonder father's bayonet wound did not seem like one from combat. So he escaped being singled out.
I have no memory at all on how the rest of the family in the hideout, who must have been worried sick on the day he failed to return, to later learn with relief that he was at the hospital. How long father stayed at the hospital, I have no idea. It seemed like after he had recovered, he was allowed to stay to do some menial work and for which he was able to bring home some foodstuff like milk, sugar and coffee. Pedaling cigarettes on the bye, he made his keep.
I recall another story that seems surreal. Father told of how one day he came across a huge bin with lots of currency notes in it. I still recall a kind of sheepish grin on his face when narrating this story. It was of course beyond a kid's understanding what kind of currencies he found. In later years I wondered, now why didn't I ask the natural question -- how come you did not scoop off with the cash? Perhaps that grin said "darn it, why didn't I ....?" I cannot place the time of that chance finding. It it was before his hospitalisation, it could probably be Straits Dollars. This was British Administration issued currency for Singapore and Malaya, pegged to Pound Sterling. The Japanese banned the use of Straits Dollars on pain of severe punishment. Perhaps that was why the cash was dumped and father did not pick it up. If that finding was towards the end of the Japanese occupation, it was probably worthless "banana" currency.
In occupied territories, the Japanese Army issued "Military Yen'. This was salary payment to their soldiers who can make local purchases. But for Singapore, the Japanese issued "Banana Yen" which is to be used by the public. It was called "Banana Yen" simply because it used banana trees as the vignette, or design motif. With no pegging to any currency or reserves backing, runaway currency depreciation was inevitable. Towards the end of the war, the "Banana Yen" was no longer worth the cost of printing them. That's the origin of the term "banana" currency to describe the currency of a country suffering from runaway hyper-inflation. It's an irony that a successful global financial centre that Singapore is, comes to be associated with the origin of the term "banana" currency.
Finally, on 12 Sep 1945, Lt-Gen Seishiro Itagaki signed the Instrument of Surrender before Adm Lord Louis Mountbatten at the Municipal Building (now part of National Gallery). The war was over and there was mayhem at the hospital. Many Japanese hospital staff - nurses and doctors, committed suicide. Father told of how he opened the door to a toilet to find a Japanese doctor hung on a frame. These were not self-extermination out of fear. This was the Bushido ideology of the Japanese in practice, something we cannot comprehend.
After the Japanese surrendered, I think father continued hanging around the hospital for a while. He had stories of ghost sightings - poor lost souls of locals, Europeans and Japanese. Today, Alexandra Hospital is well known for its share of paranormal activities.
The two things that had intrigued me decades later were the Hokkien-speaking Japanese and the "ang chews" (red beards). It was much later in a chance idle conversation with my younger brother who said "ang chew" didn't mean red beard. It was probably father misquoting the Hokkien-speaking Japanese soldiers who most probably said "Manchus" which sounded like "ang chew". Then it clicked -- Hokkien-speaking and Manchus!!. I knew immediately what it was all about. Did some research and proved my instincts.
My light research led me to confront something very inconvenient, something I never had the faintest idea at all, something we were never taught in school, Prior to the WWII time period, Japan ruled Korea, Taiwan and Manchukuo (Manchuria). As the colonial master, they conscripted Koreans, Taiwanese and Manchus (Manchurians) into their Army.
The Taiwanese conscripts were predominantly Han Chinese (about 98%). Before falling to the Japanese, Manchuria had already been sinicised and the conscripts were 60-70% Han Chinese. These conscripts were not trusted to do frontline combat duties. Their roles were auxilliary such as in logistics, policing, guards, and other admin stuff like orderlies, cooks. Taiwanese were not deployed in China. The Taiwanese and Manchus were deployed in Singapore.
Were the Korean and Manchu conscripts there in Nanking? Yes, but records show they were not directly involved in the execution of hundreds of thousands of Chinese. (Number of victims depends on where you hear it from). Their roles were off-site administration.
Similarly in the Sooching Massacre, Taiwanese and Manchu conscript units were not involved in the execution. They were active on the administrative tasks, such as in the screening of victims, guarding prisoners, driving them to their fate with death.
As for comfort women, well the colonial conscripts were Japanese soldiers after all. They were given some access, sometimes access were denied at certain locations.
Records show atrocities were committed by frontline Japanese soldiers, but certainly there were some for which the colonial conscripts were guilty of. Generally, they are guilty by association, but War Tribunals accept colonial masters exercise conscription by force. Although conscripts were forced to join the Imperial Army by law, no one knows how many gladly put on Japanese Army uniforms given them, especially for Taiwan, where they had been culturally influenced by Japan over the decades of their rule.
Taiwanese were Japanese subjects so they served under the Japanese Imperial Army. However, there is no separate Taiwanese contingents. They were attached to support and rear units - Logistics, Transport, Engineering/Construction, Supply depots and Labour battalions. Some were attached to the notorious Kempeitai primarily as interpreters, clerks and guards. They were used mainly in Malaya/Singapore theatre because they can communicate with the public.
Manchurians were not Japanese subjects. They served in the Manchukuo Army which is a puppet state army, in reality controlled by Japanese officers. Manchukuo combat units were not deployed here. In Singapore, the Manchurians served in auxillary units attached to Japanese units, serving as Guards, Labour supervisors, Transport workers and Police auxiliaries. However, Manchurians also served in Japanese-led police forces, security detachments and anti-partisan units. That placed them in situations where certainly atrocities were inflicted on the locals.
There is no doubt the conscript soldiers were not in combat roles and they cannot be tied to any Command and Control decisions. However, according to Nuremberg trials, there is something to be said about obeying illegal orders. In the Singapore theatre, none of the colonial conscripts were sentenced on account of this.
The issue is sensitive because acknowledging Korean, Taiwanese and Manchurian service in the Japanese army forces societies to confront coercion, collaboration, and identity in ways that undermine clean national narratives.
Any discussion of the involvement of the colonial conscripts is politically explosive because it dilutes Japanese responsibility, create a narrative of "shared guilt", and shift focus away from command responsibility. That's why this issue is never taught in schools nor discussed in public. A whole generation of Singaporeans with a blank history.
This is somewhat similar to Japan where their roles and atrocities were never discussed in public, where schools do not cover this episode of their history, where text books whitewashed their role, and there has been no official apology. A new generation of Japanese grew up unaware of what their parents did. However, the age of internet has levelled that effort and the uncomfortable knowledge is growing.
PM Lawrence Wong had recently attracted massive criticisms from Singaporeans for his comment about surveys showing most people have trust in dealing with Japan and have moved on from the past. Some Singaporeans argue that history teaches us to remain vigilant toward any resurgence of Japanese militarism, while others express a more visceral, vengeful sentiment rooted in wartime memory. Both reactions, however understandable, risk anchoring our outlook too firmly in the past. A forward-looking foreign policy should not be driven by inherited fears or unresolved emotions, but by a clear-eyed assessment of present realities and future interests. Ultimately, Singapore’s external relations should be guided by what best secures stability, prosperity, and strategic advantage for the country today and tomorrow.
Actually, the lessons of history have been internalised. They have reflected in Singapore's development of a small but highly capable defence force, complemented by a wider security umbrella through deep cooperation with the US and other partners -- deliberately pursued without the constraints of a formal treaty. This approach preserves strategic autonomy while ensuring credible deterrence, allowing Singapore to look forward rather than remain captive to past anxieties.
I can't help seeing the contradictions of Singaporeans when they look at the MOD's acquisition of top of the range hardware like F35B, or submarines, and start complaining of excessive and unnecessary spending, like who is going to bomb us? Or the sacrifice of two years (in my case 3 years) full-time national service is a waste of time.
As for vengeance, down to the personal level, I am wondering who really bayoneted my father? Was it a real Japanese, a Han Chinese Manchu, or a Han Chinese Taiwanese?
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