...Well Sweet to go on. The next few days were just hell, the Japs bombed us all day long, and night after night a terrific artillery duel went on with the Japs getting nearer and nearer. Then they got near enough to shell us directly and machine gun us all day from their dive bombers. We got no sleep at all for days and very little food (there wasn’t time for either). Things reached a climax on Friday 13th of February. They gave us a terrific shelling and machine gunning all day long, the battery next to me was almost wiped out, and we couldn’t hit back because our coast guns could not be turned around. Some of the batteries could fire and they did wonderfully. I spent most of the afternoon trying to patch up wounded Indians, some of whom were in a poor shape. A couple of my own chaps got a ‘hit’ [on the Japanese] but we kept under cover as much as possible. Of course as battery commander I had to keep bobbing in and out to keep the boys smiling, and seeing to essential things. During one of these occasions I had a lucky escape, a shell burst fairly close and huge lumps of old iron wire flying all over the place. One piece took a small nick about half as big as a peanut out of my shin. A tiny splinter (which I dug out with a jackknife) stuck fast under the skin of my ankle. I could write a book on “Friday the 13th” but I must keep it short.

 

Things got steadily worse; practically all our communications had been gone and the end was getting near for the little Fort that I had worked so hard to make an efficient fighting unit. Late in the afternoon I got an order to burn all papers and correspondence and to be prepared to evacuate to Blakong-Mati [a small island south of the mainland] and go to Richie’s Fort. At about quarter to twelve that night, amid an incredible din, I got the order to evacuate, and as the Japs were then in [the] Alexandra area, I only had about 20 minutes to do everything in. I blew my guns and magazines up. Wrecked engine room, searchlights and everything we could, and managed to get my 50-odd men in to the boats and just clear of the pier when we were peppered with fire from a few infiltrators near the golf course - so we buzzed as fast as we could - our own machine gunners, who had not received the signal that we were coming opened fire on us for a short while - fortunately, except for damage to the boat, they did us no damage. They shot the bottom hinge of the rudder off the boat, and in trying to hold the rudder straight with my leg over the back I got my left thigh crushed by the boat which was following, ramming us (making me a sort of collision mat). This was pretty painful and I didn’t know quite what was wrong with it. Anyway, we got ashore, unloaded our men, rations, arms and ammunition - I put an officer in charge of everything, told him to march the men and stores 5 miles to Richie’s place. I had to ask for volunteers to go back across the water with me to pick up Nick Carter and his men in another Fort. This journey wasn’t too bad and eventually at about 3am we had everybody safely away - the march through the night to Richie Place was just sheer agony ; my leg had swollen up like a balloon and I literally dropped when we arrived at 6.30am on the morning of the 14th. I can’t remember an awful lot about the 14th - but it was roughly the same thing, raid after raid, Singapore was a mass of flames and ruins and we knew the end was near, I got a bit of sleep that night. During the day we got a message from Reggie Gee to say that the Japs were only a few hundred yards from us, (this later turned out to be false) but as there was no other communication Bill Richie and I destroyed everything in order that it wouldn’t be captured. We then formed a defensive ring around our little island, layed down with our rifle and machine guns and prepared to sell our lives dearly - but apart from air bombing, nothing happened, and conditions remained like this until the surrender.

 

On the 15th we decided that as soon as we knew definitely that the show was finished we would try to escape with all our men, about 150 all told. We had our eye on an eighty-ton boat and sent some chaps aboard to get it ready for sea, we also got a small Lonkang [a small local fishing vessel] to use as a ferry to take the chaps off. At about 10 O’clock on the night of the 15th, Richie got a written message to say that he was at liberty to use his own discretion with the troops as Singapore had surrendered and we were all virtually prisoners of war. On receipt of this Richie got hopelessly drunk and was a “bloody nuisance” for the rest of the night. I was left holding the baby with 150 troops and four officers (one drunk, two given up the ghost, and one golly good Aussie called Tranter), two other officers (Benny Goodman and Armstrong) were on the boat getting it ready and seeing to the embarking of troops and stores. Well Tranter and I (In spite of Richie’s instruction) worked until about 2am on the 16th ferrying troops and rations from a shaky little pier, (which fell in, in the middle of the operation) to our ship, the ‘Curlew’. 

 

On one of the trips a dampener was put on our plans when Armstrong (our engineer) told us that the Curlew’s gear box had been sabotaged and that it could only travel astern. I had a conference with Tranter and decided to carry on even if it did mean going to Sumatra backwards!! At last we had everyone aboard and our little motor ferry lashed stern to tow alongside, to give us a push.

Alas for all our good intentions; we pulled up anchor and started: but it was hopeless, we just went round in circles with a four-knot tide pushing all over the show. Feeling very disappointed and discouraged we reluctantly beached the whole show on the shore, well under the tree of Blakang Mati and decided to try to repair the gearbox when it got light. With all the troops aboard in such a cramped space, it was an extremely uncomfortable night - incidentally I told the chaps in the small Lonkang to shoot off and make a break for it. They did and and friend Richie (the senior officer) managed to scrounge in and still leave the safety of the men to someone else - it’s far as I was concerned “good riddance to bad rubbish”

Well dear the next morning (16th) dawned nice and sunny, and the ship was most uncomfortable, high and dry with a list of about 30 degrees. During the night some chaps had decided that we had left it too late and it wasn’t now worth the risk to try to escape. So about 40 of them took their rations and went ashore to give themselves up. We worked all the morning  on the gearbox and finally decided it was hopeless and that we should have to escape by other means - but in the meantime we would use the ship as our head-quarters - I explained the situation to the men.

 

Armstrong and two other chaps swam over to Panlan Poiawi to see if the could get any small boats from the wrecked and ruined water transport wharf. They came back for help and eventually got three small motor Longkangs, each capable of carrying about 20 men with rations and stores: this was grand. True the boats were full of holes and leaking badly and the engines weren’t too good - but we started patching them up and making them ready. My next problem was how to get about 100 men away in them. The Japs solved this problem indirectly. During the day several [Japanese] ‘reccy’ aircraft flew low over us and we weren’t sure if they had spotted us or not; and also my ‘Aussie sentry’ had counted 27 boat loads of Japs (with flags flying) going east through the Harbour boom up to Cliford’s pier , some got off and went up into the signal tower a few yards from the boom gate through which we had to pass on our way out.

 

This was very discouraging to the men and several decided it wasn’t worth the risk (including the two officers who had given up the ghost 24 hours before). So in order to save a panic I got all the chaps together and told them briefly the circumstances namely, that each chap must make up his own mind for himself, that there was a risk of being shot to pieces going through the boom gate, that assuming we got through there was a certain hazard about the sea journey, minefields, food and water etc, and they had to decide whether the sum total of these risks was preferable to accept, as against to the certainty of being in a Jap prison for god knows how many years. The outcome of this was that one of my sergeants said “that’s okay by us sir, wherever you go, we follow”, which I think dear, Is the greatest compliment I have ever received as a soldier.

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Addition by Henry Rayment-Pickard: It is thought many of those who abandoned the rescue attempt were killed on sight by the Japanese. Those who were able to surrender were taken to Japanese POW camps, where poor conditions and forced labour would cause the deaths of many more.

 

There were 30 or so of my own chaps left and I am pleased to say that about 25 of them came (not all in my boat). Of the rest (Richie’s men and ‘odds and sods’) many decided it wasn’t worth it and we were left with between 55 and 65 men to get away (there was no time to make nominal rolls and some chaps were continually wavering one way and then the other). So we provisioned our boats allowing for 20 in each. As there was apparently still some Jap activity in the vicinity of the signal station we laid low until about 11.30 on the night of the 16th, and then started our engine and pushed off. In my boat were three officers (Benny Gardener, Tom Armstrong and myself) and seventeen men. We circled around for about 20 minutes to give the other boats time to start and then started for the narrow boom gate, (the other two boats were to follow at 300 yard intervals to see how we fared). Benny knew the channel fairly well and navigated, Tom was at the helm and I was boson and general lookout. We took our boots off, put life jackets on, and placed our trust in providence. We sneaked within a dozen yards of the wharfs and tower, (the Japs either weren’t interested or didn’t see us) maneuvered through the boom gate and then opened up our motor and went hell for leather along the edge of the minefield; In the dark we narrowly missed a Jap ship, which also did not spot us. Thinking our troubles (for the night at least) were over, we pushed on and were going great guns until we got too near to an island and struck a submerged rock. This was an awful shock, our engine conked owing to the damage to our propeller, the water was pouring into the boat, and we started drifting into the minefield. However, we got everybody bailing, rigged some oars and by the skin of our teeth managed to beach the boat on another island, where we tied it up for the night and simply conked out from sheer exhaustion at about 3am (on the 17th).

 

The next morning we awoke to find that we were on an island used as a mental and leper colony. We made some breakfast and found the ‘Head Lad’. He was European and couldn’t get rid of us quickly enough, said we were jeopardising his position, that the Japs were coming at 10.30am to take the place over, and that  the best thing we could do was to go back and give ourselves up  - Some Hope!

 

So we decided to get away from this nasty piece of work as quietly as we could. At low tide we repaired our damaged boat as best we could, and without a ‘good luck’ from ‘have you any food or water’ from our European host we shoved off to another island to lay ‘doggo’ until nightfall (we were still only about 4 miles from Singapore)... 

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Addition by Henry Rayment-Pickard: Following accounts shared by Martin Pickard with Hugh Rayment-Pickard, It is believed that Ted’s conversation with the ‘European’ from the Mental and Leper colony deteriorated before departing the island. It is said the ‘European’ threatened to inform the Japanese of their escape and was subsequently shot by an officer to save their escape plan from being discovered. This was left out of the letter to Ethel and Martin.

 

 

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...We had of course during our mishap, lost touch with our other two boats which presumably went on ahead. I have seen or heard nothing of them since. Well dear, we found a quiet little place, covered the boat with branches from trees so the Jap aircraft would not spot it, found a freshwater spring, cleaned off the filth we had collected on our bodies during the last few days, and last but not least made a good meal, and a can of the most glorious tea I have ever tasted in my life. Then we got the boat ready and had a good sleep until evening came and we shoved off again. 

 

I could write a book of the sea journey darling - perhaps someday I will - but I must be brief now.

 

From the time we left the island until we finally landed at the Indragiri River in Dutch Sumatra our fortunes varied. We calculated we travelled 300 miles in this little boat; the journey taking 12 and a half days. We landed and slept at all sorts of strange islands where generally (if they were inhabited) the natives treated us well and gave us fruit, food and water. Sometimes things went right, sometimes wrong, sometimes we were forced down to only a few sips of a mixture of water and paraffin! A day (Some fool had poured our only fresh water in the wrong tin). During the ride I picked up 18 chaps from Singapore drifting in a ship's lifeboat - so we took them in tow and altogether pulled them about 100 miles to Sumatra. During these days we were all fairly well, I was suffering from septic ulcers around one foot. My thigh from which a huge black bruise was gradually fading was on occasions painful, and I was worried about it as a dead looking bag was developing on it which looked pretty nasty. My two small scratches had gone septic and to finish things off I had 4 ulcers. So you can see Love we were pretty glad when the Dutch (a very kindly and efficient people) took us over and looked after us. Another part of the story which must wait, is of our trip by car and train across Sumatra. But owing to the hospitality and kindness of the Dutch we did after many anxious days get to the sea-port where a British cruiser put in and carried  us to Ceylon, away from it all. In the cruiser the naval surgeon treated my legs and arranged for me to go into hospital here. The rest of my chaps have gone on to Bombay.

 

Well love, I remained in hospital for two weeks and was then allowed out and told to rest strictly for seven days, that’s what I am doing now. Tomorrow I am going to make some arrangements about money for you. I haven’t had any pay or allowances since December and the local paymaster can’t pay me until  he gets my account from the paymaster Malaya command, who I supposed to be in Australia. He advanced me one hundred rupees (about £7.10) with which I have to buy myself a new outfit of clothes and shoes. Our account with the Hong Kong Bank is “frozen” in Singapore but if you contact the London branch you can draw money on it as a copy as a copy of all accounts has been sent there, but Long before you receive this letter sweet, I hope to have a regular allowance coming to you. I am sorry for all the inconvenience this business this must have caused you but believe me it was unavoidable love. I am making a determined effort to get home and sort things out for you. [Give] a little for Minnie Lucas, love (if you are still with her). There is no news of Bat. As you know I was 25 miles from him and it was impossible to get a message to him. In the morning of the last day at singapore I sent a chap who was going over with a boat to try and contact Bat and tell him to make his way to my place, I never saw this chap again, he was probably killed. I have found one officer of Bat’s in Ceylon here - he escaped on the night of the 15th. His name was Captain Cessford. He said that the last he saw of Bat was about 2 hours before the end, Bat was in the front line fighting alongside his men, and as far as Cessford knows he’s captive, unwounded. In spite of hundreds of inquiries, that is all I can find out - so the chances are that Bat is a prisoner of war - I feel so sorry for him but believe me love there was nothing I could do personally to help Bat out, I just couldn’t find him. Well sweet I must stop now - write and tell me everything about yourself and our baby and Martin. I will write again in a few days. In the meantime I’m going to try my hardest to get a passage home so I can straighten things out for you.

 

Goodbye darling, pray it won’t be long until we see each other again - Kiss the kids for me.

 

All My love

Yours Always,

 

Ted xx

 

Ps: Address your first letter to Capt. TW Pickard R.A

Ex Singapore C-O officer, 1-C Movement control Colombo Ceylon

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