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I O N G K O I G January 5th 1942
INTERNMENT September 23rd 1943
Ever since repatriation from the British Civilian Internment Camp in Hongkong on September 23rd, 1943, I have repeatedly had the question put to me as to how we were treated during our twenty-one months stay there. To that question it would be injustice in some respects to say we were badly treated, but on the other hand it would be equally ridiculous to say that we were well treated, To answer the question truthfully and give justice to both sides it would be better to say that we were simply ignored by the Japanese Authorities in charge of our Camp.
In some respects this was all to our benefit, but on the other hand, as to our personal .welfare, requests for additional food, medical supplies, materials and equipment,
much stress cannot be laid on the importance of their complete disregard of our needs,
too
In writing this article, I do not intend it to be a story, but merely statistical data based on conditions in the Stanley Camp. My only reason for writing it is in the hope that it may reach the proper sources who will appreciate what the internees, not only in Hongkong, but the entire Far East, are suffering, and acting on this report, possibly further efforts may be made for their repatriation to their homeland.
Our internment first commenced on January 5th, 1942, when the order came for all enemy nationals to report at the Murray Parade Grounds, on Garden Road, and to bring along only such articles that could be carried. After standing for several hours, we were placed in groups of from 200 to 400 and marched way through the streets under escort to various old Chinese hotels, brothels, and any other type of building suitable for housing us all. Here the tired and ewildered pcoplc were packed in like sardines, in badly ventilated, vile smelling rooms, in some cases there being as many as cleven persons in a room 9' x 8', and containing one Chinese divan, one straight-backed and one easy chair, and a filthy looking wash basin. Sleeping in such rooms was almost an impossibility, and then only managed in relays. Only those cubicles facing the front street or rear alleyway was there direct light and ventilation, the remainder relying on electricity, when it was eventually connected up, and ventilation over the 7' high partition board walls.
For the first two days, only one bowl of rice was served per person, however, on the third day, a vile smelling and equally vile tasting soup was poured over the rice, which we were later informed was duck soup. Coinciding with the issue of this latter delicacy was the fact that every morning wo were awakened to the howls and screaming of dogs being beaten to death in the ground floor restaurant, which is the Cantonese custom for killing their chow dogs that are to be enton. Naturally the thought passed through most minds that our duck soup may have been a misnomer, however, realizing that dog in those days was a delicacy and exceedingly expensive, my bets were on the duck.
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It was in these hotels that our days of queuing began. From 5 a.m. till midnight there was a continual queue for the one and only bathroom on our floor housing 98 persons of different sexes and ages. As bad as the food was, we rather looked forward to the two queues for food. Those who had had foresight or had been lucky enough to bring in sums of money with them did not have to rely on the rations, and were able to obtain foodstuffs by "squeezing" the Chinese and Indian guards on the main door. Others simply had to rely on what they were given by the management of the hotels,
Physical exercise was almost out of the question. The roof was available to only about 50 persons at a time, and even the beams creaked and threatened to cave in. The building itself we were informed, was erected in 1900 under the name of the "Stag Hotel", and had later years been sold to Chinese interests who had let the place go to decay. It was a veritable death trap, and if fire had broken out, with the guard seldom on the iron door, which was always locked, I doubt if one person would have been able to get out of that hell hole alive. Naturally every precaution against fire was taken by us all.
After seventeen days of this life, finally on the morning of January 21st, we were told to pack, and from that never-to-be-forgotten hotel, we were marched to the Macao Steamship wharfs, where we boarded tugs, tenders etc., and departed for the Stanley Peninsula. During our march to the wharfs, several exhibitions of Japanese brutality were staged especially for our benefit, in the form of beating Chinese coolies to death on the street, either for some infraction of the law, but we were all inclined to believe, it was unwarranted, and was merely the sadistic nature of the Japanese getting the better of him. The sight was sickening, and onc
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