The Empire Trilogy Part 60

59.

The number of people, mainly men, who had taken up lodging at or near the Mayfair Building had continued to grow day by day. Now there were people there whom the Major barely knew by sight, others whom he did not know at all. Certain of these newcomers merely came to hang about during the daytime, for thanks to the fire-fighting the Mayfair was a centre of activity and news, or, if not news, rumours. The latest rumour a.s.serted that a gigantic American force of several divisions had pa.s.sed through the Straits of Malacca during the night and landed near Alor Star in the north. When asked to confirm this rumour, however, Ehrendorf merely shook his head sadly.

Of all the new lodgers, none pleased the Major so much as the girls from the Poh Leung Kuk who were quartered in the Board Room. They were so helpful, so good-natured and polite! The Major was delighted with them: they appealed strongly to his paternal instincts. He was somewhat surprised, however, when one day Captain Brown, whom he had put in charge of them, asked him what was supposed to be done about their prospective bridegrooms? What bridegrooms? The ones, Captain Brown said, that kept calling to inspect the girls with a view to matrimony. He had paraded them himself, looked them over, and given them short shrift: not good enough. But the girls had been upset: they wanted a go at the bridegrooms themselves! They did not want Captain Brown who was used to having everything ship-shape and had spent a lifetime on the water-fronts up and down the China coast selecting crews with the jaundiced eye of experience, they did not want him to make their decisions for them!

This was a difficult problem. The Major was surprised, as a matter of fact, that at such a time, with the city being progressively smashed to bits from the air, there should be any prospective bridegrooms at all, but perhaps it was the very uncertainty of the situation which was causing single men to make up their minds. Well, there was no doubt in his mind, provided the men had some sort of credentials to prove that they did not want the girls to stock brothels and could produce the forty dollars for the trousseau, the girls themselves, not Captain Brown, must choose.

Captain Brown was indignant. He was not accustomed to having his decisions questioned: it was only out of politeness that he had mentioned the matter to the Major at all. Since he had obtained his Master's ticket all those years ago he had made it plain, as quite a few Owners had discovered to their cost, that he was not the sort of man who would countenance being interfered with in the correct exercise of his duties. The Major, taken aback, had tried to suggest to Captain Brown that this was note quite the same thing, that these girls, after all ... But Captain Brown was adamant. Either they were under his command or they were not! And he had departed in a huff, leaving the Major to cope with the problem as best he could.

Dupigny, consulted, was of the opinion that the girls should be left to deal with the matter themselves. Although the Major would have liked and indeed intended to exercise some sort of supervision over the bridegrooms, he had so much on his mind these days that really he had no time to spare, and neither did anyone else. At best half an hour now and again could be set aside by Dupigny or Ehrendorf to inspect credentials, but in the existing conditions it was impossible even to do this properly. The girls were naturally delighted by their victory over Captain Brown and became more helpful than ever to the Major, showering him with little attentions, sewing on b.u.t.tons for him and polishing his shoes. What splendid little things they were! It was all he could do to prevent the little darlings from bringing him cups of tea whenever he sat down for a moment. Indeed, when they were not interviewing bridegrooms in the Board Room, which they were doing a lot of the time, they brought cups of tea to everyone at all hours of the day. The only thing that made the Major a little uneasy was the fact that though there was a constant and increasing supply of bridegrooms waiting to be summoned to the Board Room (now and again the door would open releasing a gale of giggles) they never actually seemed to choose choose one. Still, that was hardly his business. one. Still, that was hardly his business.

Now the Major and Dupigny were making their way to the verandah for some fresh air, picking their way among sleeping firemen; the Major noticed as he pa.s.sed that many of them had simply thrown themselves down on the floor with a cushion or a jacket under their heads, faces and clothes still blackened by the fire they had just been to. Weariness now affected everyone, causing men to stumble about as if they were drunk, or forget to deal with the most urgent matters. 'Really,' he thought, 'we can't be expected to go on much longer like this!'

To replace the wooden steps to the compound which had been carried away in the raid a week earlier a ladder had been improvised. The Major descended it stiffly, his movements made clumsy by fatigue.

'And who on earth is this?' he asked Dupigny rather petulantly, for even more people had arrived since he had last made a tour of inspection and had installed themselves in a sort of gypsy encampment among the score of brick pillars on which the bungalow was built. Here in the shade woman and children sat mournfully among piles of suitcases and other belongings. Some of them dozed or nursed crying babies, others stared blankly at the Major and Dupigny as they pa.s.sed, red-eyed and seemingly in a state of shock.

'Refugees.'

'Of course, but why is nothing being done by the Government to take care them? We We can't possibly be expected to feed them all. And what about sanitary arrangements? We'll have an epidemic in no time if they stay here. I thought schools had been taken over to house them. Perhaps you could enquire, Francois, and see if there's somewhere for them to go ... The poor things are obviously too exhausted to find out for themselves.' can't possibly be expected to feed them all. And what about sanitary arrangements? We'll have an epidemic in no time if they stay here. I thought schools had been taken over to house them. Perhaps you could enquire, Francois, and see if there's somewhere for them to go ... The poor things are obviously too exhausted to find out for themselves.'

Dupigny smiled at his friend and made a gesture of helplessness; his experience of administration in Hanoi told him that even in the best conditions it would take several days or even weeks before Singapore was again able to cope adequately with its administrative problems, of which the refugees were only one. What about the water supply? The burial of the dead? The demolition of damaged buildings? The repair of damage done to vital roads, to gas, electricity and telephone installations? And then there was the storing and distribution of food, the struggle to prevent an epidemic of typhus or cholera, and a hundred and one other difficulties ... None of these matters, Dupigny knew without any doubt, would be dealt with adequately, for the simple reason that there were not enough experienced men to do the job ... some of them, he explained to the Major, would not be dealt with at all unless people took matters into their own hands ... 'Like this fellow here,' he added.

They had pa.s.sed through another little community, this time living in army tents scrounged from somewhere, and had come with a certain relief to an open s.p.a.ce which led presently to the little wilderness of rare shrubs beyond which lay the Blacketts' compound. Beneath the shade of a rambutan a Chinese was digging a grave, or rather he had already dug the grave and was now shovelling earth back into it. On closer inspection the Chinese turned out to be Cheong who, for the past few days, had been working with astonishing energy and fort.i.tude to provide meals at intervals for the ever-increasing number of volunteer firemen and their dependents. And now, not content with feeding people, here he was burying someone single-handed.

'Ah, Cheong,' said the Major peering into the grave where, however, nothing could be seen but the well-polished toes of a pair of stout English shoes. 'Good show,' he added, wanting to make it clear how much he appreciated Cheong's efforts.

'Whose grave is that?'

Cheong, without pausing in his digging, muttered a name which the Major had to cup his ear to catch.

'Not old Tom Prescott!' cried the Major in dismay. 'Why, Francois, I knew him well. He used to do a trick at parties with an egg.' And the Major gazed into the grave in concern.

Dupigny shrugged, as if to say: 'What else can one expect, the way things are?'

They moved on a little way. The Major, upset, mopped his brow with a silk handkerchief. 'Poor old Tommy,' he said. 'What a card he was! He used to have us in fits. Mind you, he was getting on in years. He'd had a good innings.'

The Major, too, Dupigny could not help thinking, was beginning to look his years; the lack of sleep and the ceaseless activity of the past few days had given his features a haggard appearance, accentuating the lines under his eyes; even his moustache had a chewed and patchy look, perhaps singed by drifting sparks at one of the fires he had attended.

'People are like bubbles, Brendan,' declared Dupigny in a sombre and sententious manner. 'They drift about for a little while and then they burst.'

'Oh, Francois, please!'

'Not clear bubbles which sparkle, but bubbles of muddy, blood-stained water. p.r.i.c.k them and they burst. Moreover, it is scientific,' he added, narrowing his eyes in a Cartesian manner. 'We are made of ninety-nine per cent water, we are like cuc.u.mbers. So what do you expect?' If you p.r.i.c.k a cuc.u.mber it does not burst, the Major thought of saying, but decided not to encourage his friend in this lugubrious vein.

Having returned to the bungalow they found Ehrendorf who had disappeared for an hour to drive some of the women refugees from up-country to Cluny to join the queue of people trying to register for pa.s.sages at the P & O Agency House. He reported a scene of despair and chaos. Now, with what might be the last pa.s.senger ships for some time preparing to leave, men, women and children were braving the heat and the air-raids in an attempt to get away.

'Perhaps you should be on one of them yourself, Jim, unless you expect your army to arrive and rescue us and are merely waiting to welcome them ash.o.r.e.'

'While Francois is still in the Colony I know it must be safe,' replied Ehrendorf with a smile.

'You surely do not expect me to leave on ... quelle horreur quelle horreur ... a troopship. If you have ever been on such a vessel you will know that there is at least one instance in which it is better to arrive than to travel. Besides, I am curious to see how it ends, this Singapore story.' ... a troopship. If you have ever been on such a vessel you will know that there is at least one instance in which it is better to arrive than to travel. Besides, I am curious to see how it ends, this Singapore story.'

Matthew, too, arrived presently. He had spent the morning at the Chinese Protectorate trying to get an exit permit for Vera. They now had everything that was needed including photographs and had both been hopeful that at last they would be able to tackle the next obstacle of getting Vera registered with the P & O. But the exit permit had been refused without explanation. Matthew was still shocked by this set-back: he had been so certain that they would succeed. Curiously enough, this time Vera had seemed to be less affected than he was by the disappointment, had comforted him as best she could and had come back with him to the Mayfair.

'I know someone at the Protectorate,' said the Major suddenly. 'I think I shall go and have a word with him.'

It was not until later in the afternoon that the Major found time to telephone Smith at the Chinese Protectorate, asking to see him. Smith was discouraging. 'We're very busy here, Major. We have a whole lot of Chinese on our plate. What's it about?'

'I'm coming to see you now, Smith,' the Major told him sharply, 'and you'd better be there or else you'll find a dozen young women camping in your office tomorrow.'

'You'll never get through. Traffic jams.' There was silence for a moment, then Smith's voice asked suspiciously: 'What's it about?'

The Major rang off.

Word had now spread that two, or even more, of the troopships that had brought the 18th Division would be sailing that evening after dark. This was a further blow for Matthew, made no better by the knowledge that even if they had managed to get the exit permit they still would not have been able to complete the other formalities in time to get Vera on board. From early in the afternoon those prospective pa.s.sengers fortunate enough to have been granted pa.s.sages on the ships that were due to sail had begun to converge on the docks, with the result that delays and traffic jams soon began to develop. Eventually those who were trying to approach Keppel Harbour along Tanjong Pagar Road found that they could no longer move forward at all: so many cars had been abandoned in the road by pa.s.sengers who had driven themselves to the docks that the stream of traffic had become hopelessly blocked by them. The situation both there and in the other approach roads was made even worse by the bomb-craters, the rubble from destroyed buildings which had not yet been cleared away, and by the efforts of the newly arrived 18th Division to unload their equipment and force a pa.s.sage through for it in the opposite direction. Everywhere desperate people were sweltering in cars which crept forward at best only a few feet at a time through clouds of smoke or dust, thin in places, dense in others, between rows of heat-distorted buildings, accompanied by a nightmare braying of car-horns, the hammering of anti-aircraft guns and the crump of bombs falling ahead of them. Nearer the docks a number of buildings were on fire: there were G.o.downs with roofs neatly carpeted with rectangles of flame and shop-houses with flames sprouting like orange weeds from every window. Some pa.s.sengers began to realize that they would never reach the docks in time, but the greater the panic the worse the situation became. It was obvious, even to the Major, arriving after a considerable delay at the Chinese Protectorate on the corner of Havelock Road, that the embarkation had turned into a shambles.

The Major had half expected not to find Smith in his office but there he was at his desk, peering intently into one of its drawers which, however, contained nothing but a few whiskers of perforated paper left over from a sheet of postage stamps, a much-bitten pencil, and one or two wire paper-clips. Ignoring the Major's entrance he put the pencil between his teeth and after some deliberation selected one of the paper-clips. Sitting back he asked blandly: 'Well, what can I do for you, Major?'

The Major explained that he wanted an exit permit for Vera.

'Does she have a valid certificate of admission? Why doesn't she apply herself?'

'She has has ... and has been refused without explanation.' ... and has been refused without explanation.'

'I'm afraid in that case ...' said Smith, beginning to clean his ear with the paper-clip and inspecting it at intervals.

'She'll be in grave danger should the j.a.panese gain control of Singapore.'

'Can't do much about that, I'm afraid. But as a favour we'll have a little look at her file, shall we? If she's properly registered we should have her photograph and thumb-print, I should think ... Just a moment.'

Smith got to his feet and made his way to a door leading to an inner office. He left the door ajar and the Major could hear whispering but could not make out what was being said. He looked around. Nothing in the office had changed since his first visit except that strips of brown paper had been pasted over the window as a precaution against flying gla.s.s-splinters. It was some time before Smith reappeared; when he did so he was wearing spectacles and carrying a file. The atmosphere in the office was stifling despite the fan thrashing away above his desk. He sat down and for a while studied the file suspiciously, occasionally making a clicking sound with his tongue. From time to time he lifted the paper-clip and twisted it in his ear like a key in a lock. At length he looked up and said sharply: 'What's your interest in this case, Major?'

'She's a friend of mine ...'

'I believe we've discussed this woman before, haven't we? I told you she wasn't reliable, perhaps even a wh.o.r.e. Surely now you don't mean to tell me that she's a friend of yours!'

'Even if your evil-minded suggestions were true,' replied the Major coldly, 'it would be no reason to refuse her an exit permit when her life is in danger if she remains in Singapore.'

Smith had once more dropped his eyes to the file and was champing his lips in a disagreeable manner. How little had changed, the Major reflected, since the first time he had sat in this office! Smith was still blinking and sweating profusely: wisps of hair still flickered on each side of his bald crown like electric sparks, dancing weirdly in the draught of the fan. The Major had been too busy fire-fighting to give much thought to earlier days when his Civil Defence Committee had lobbied the various departments of the Government for distribution of gasmasks and for air-raid shelters in the populous quarters of the city. But now his sense of frustration with petty officials returned in full force, combined with bitterness at the results of their inept.i.tude which he had witnessed in the last few days driving about in the defenceless, shelterless city.

'This woman once had connections with the General Labour Union,' pursued Smith, unaware of the Major's anger. 'I suppose you know that that was a Communist organization?'

The Major said nothing. Outside the air-raid sirens yet again began their rise and fall, rise and fall. Smith c.o.c.ked an ear anxiously to them, then went on: 'We have information that she was also implicated in some criminal affair in Shanghai before the war in which a j.a.panese officer was killed. That was also Communist-inspired without doubt. So you see ...'

'I see nothing except that she'll be on a j.a.panese black-list if she remains in Singapore!' shouted the Major, losing his temper.

'Don't raise your voice with me, Major,' said Smith nastily. 'You'll find that it doesn't get you anywhere.'

'From the way you talk it sounds as if you're on the side of the j.a.panese. Let me remind you that they and not the Chinese are the enemy!'

'Look here, old man,' said Smith in a condescending tone. 'I happen to know a great deal more about this business than you do. Of course, the j.a.ps are the enemy, of course they are! But that doesn't mean the Chinese are on our side, particularly the Communists. You don't know, as I do, how dangerous they are to the fabric of our society. Well, they're like ... I always say ... hookworms in the body. They don't respect the natural boundaries of the organs ... They pa.s.s from one to another ...'

'So you said before. But I want an exit permit for that young woman and I don't mean to leave without one.'

'Out of the question, old man. Here in Singapore we have the Communists isolated and under control. We can't allow them to spread all over the place. The way I describe it, which many people have been kind enough to find illuminating, is that they're like millions of seeds in a pod. If we allow that pod to burst in India, say, or even in Australia, why, they'll be scattered all over the Empire in no time ... Oh Lord!' he added hurrying to the window and throwing it open. 'It looks as if they're coming this way. We'd better go down to the shelter.'

The Major joined him at the window. The office was on the top floor of the building and looked eastwards over the city towards the sea. At this hour the stretch of water between Anderson Bridge and the horizon was a delicate duck-egg blue, extraordinarily beautiful. The Major, however, was looking up at the minute formation of silver-black planes flying towards the city at a great height. As the bombers pa.s.sed over Kallang little white puffs began to appear in the sky beneath them, as if dotted here and there with an invisible paint-brush. After a moment the thud of guns came to them at the window. 'Yes, they do seem to be coming this way,' he agreed.

'Well, we'll have to continue this chat another time.' Smith picked up the file, snapped it shut and clamped it under his arm very firmly, as if he expected the Major to s.n.a.t.c.h it from him. He eyed the Major warily, his head on one side.

The Major was surprised to hear himself say: 'I'm not leaving this office without that exit permit and neither are you.' He advanced on Smith threateningly, sensing that despite his advantage of years Smith was afraid of him; perhaps Smith sensed how deeply angry and resentful the Major was after the days he had spent working in the chaotic streets. The Major gripped the back of a chair and Smith fell back a pace. Outside an alarm-bell jangled.

'That's the roof-spotter,' cried Smith in alarm. 'Look, be sensible. I don't even have the proper forms here. You must come back later, come back some other time.'

'Just write it out on official paper, sign it and stamp it!' The Major advanced a step. 'I've had about enough of this,' he added, taking off his jacket. 'Put up your fists.'

'What d'you mean?' asked Smith, staring at him in amazement.

'I mean I'm going to give you a punch on the nose,' replied the Major.

'This is absurd,' muttered Smith. He had turned very pale. Tufts of hair continued to flutter above his ears. A hideous whistling sound had begun from outside; it grew higher and higher in pitch, ending in an explosion that shook the building. 'Don't be ridiculous,' said Smith, ringing the bell on his desk sharply. But nothing happened. Evidently the people in the next office had departed to the shelter by another exit.

'Now look here ...' said Smith, making for the door and delivering the Major a paralysing hack on the shins as he pa.s.sed. But the Major caught him by the arm and yanked him back into the room. 'Just a minute,' he said. 'Put up your fists.'

'At least let me take off my gla.s.ses,' said Smith, giving the Major another mighty hack on the shins and punching him in the stomach for good measure.

'I'm afraid you've gone too far,' gasped the Major and, gla.s.ses or no gla.s.ses, drew back his first. But before he could strike, Smith was at his desk, writing busily.

'Why didn't you tell me straight away that she was your tart?' he demanded in an aggrieved tone. 'For chaps' tarts we can make exceptions.'

Smith had finished writing. The Major picked up the paper, read it carefully and put it in his pocket. 'One more thing. If I hear you've done anything to countermand this ...'

But Smith had already fled for safety from the bombs and from the Major.

60.

The first week of February was a week of frantic activity for General Percival. Such was the swiftness with which the j.a.panese had followed up their attacks throughout the campaign that he knew he could not count on more than a week's grace before they launched their attack on Singapore Island itself. There was so much to be done, so little time in which to do it. He no longer even returned to Flagstaff House to sleep. Instead he would stretch out in his office at Command Headquarters in Sime Road and, within a few moments, would find himself plunging into a torrent of anxieties even more distressing than those he had to face while awake. And so, tired though he was, he preferred to remain conscious, taking cover in his work as if in a fortified position.

Moreover, he now sometimes had the impression that his luck was about to change, that the unseen hand had ceased to wield its influence over his affairs. For if you looked at matters objectively you would see immediately that the situation could have been a great deal worse. After all, was it not the case that the major part of his forces from the mainland had withdrawn unscathed across the Causeway and had been redeployed successfully to their defensive positions on the Island? They were there now, digging in as best they could under the sh.e.l.ls which had started coming over the water from Joh.o.r.e. True, the 22nd Brigade had been lost, apart from a few stragglers who had managed to find their way across the Strait in small boats or who had been picked up at night by what was left of the Navy. On the other hand, the remainder of the (British) 18th Division was due to arrive on the 5th. It was Percival's belief that it would arrive just in the nick of time.

Singapore Island in shape somewhat resembled the head of an elephant lumbering towards you, with both its flapping ears outstretched and with Singapore Town about where the mouth would be. On the extreme tip of the elephant's left ear (on the east coast, that is) were the great fixed guns of the Joh.o.r.e and Changi batteries. On the other ear there was Tengah airfield and the coastline of creeks and mangrove swamps. As it happened, neither ear was now of very much use to Percival. Tengah was within easy range of observed artillery fire from the mainland and could no longer be used by the few remaining Hurricanes, detained on the Island for the purposes of morale and for the escorting of the last convoys: they now had to use the civil aerodrome at Kallang. As for those enormous, leopard-striped fifteen-inch guns at Changi which had contributed so much to Singapore's reputation as a fortress, they had been sited to deal with an attack by ships from the sea, although some of them could indeed be traversed to fire into Joh.o.r.e; their ammunition (in short supply, incidentally) since it was armour-piercing, was also intended for use against ships and was expected to bury itself too deeply to be effective against targets on land.

No, although the ears must also, of course, be defended against an enemy landing, it was really the head itself that mattered, for it was in this central part of the Island that everything of importance was located. On the crown of the elephant's head the Island was (or rather, had been) joined to the mainland by the Causeway which was a little over a thousand yards in length. When the last of the Argylls, who had been given the risky job of covering the withdrawal, had crossed safely back to the Island a considerable hole had been blown in the Causeway ... or so it had seemed at first. Percival had been quite pleased with it, seeing the water flowing through at such a speed. But after a while even the hole had proved a disappointment, for what he had seen at first was the hole at high tide high tide ... at low tide it was a different story. It no longer looked as if it would provide such an effective obstacle. Still, it was a great deal better than no hole at all. ... at low tide it was a different story. It no longer looked as if it would provide such an effective obstacle. Still, it was a great deal better than no hole at all.

The important road which, in normal times, came over on the Causeway and landed on the crown of the elephant's head continued straight down towards its mouth and trunk where Singapore Town was ... that, is in a southerly direction, more or less. Two-thirds of the way across, it reached Bukit Timah Village, thereafter calling itself the Bukit Timah Road for the last lap into the city itself.

This princ.i.p.al road across the Island was straddled by not very impressive hills: Bukit (which means 'hill') Mandai, Bukit Panjang, Bukit Timah and Bukit Brown, the only hill terrain on the Island, by a nondescript area called Sleepy Valley, by a race course, a golf club and a cemetery (the latter on Bukit Brown), all grouped around Command Headquarters in Sime Road where Percival was now swatting at flies which were relentlessly trying to land on the backs of his sweating hands as he pored over the maps.

A little further to the east, right between the beast's eyes, lay the reservoirs which would become vital if the siege were prolonged, and, further east again, the pumping station at Woodleigh. Apart from the water in the reservoirs, great stocks of food retrieved from the mainland had been dumped on the race course. Beside the race course two large petrol dumps had been established, not to mention other food, petrol and ammunition dumps which were located in the Bukit Timah area. Yes, altogether this was an area that Percival knew he must defend at all costs. But then, 'at all costs' was how he would have had to defend it, anyway, since Singapore Town was only just down the road.

In the plans which had been laid for the defence of the Island it had been decided that if the worst came to the worst and the j.a.panese got a solid footing ash.o.r.e, the eastern and western areas (the elephant's ears) might a la rigueur a la rigueur be abandoned and that the forces defending them might withdraw to second lines of defence. These second lines of defence, known as 'switch lines', followed very roughly the sides of the elephant's head where the ears were stuck on to it: on the eastern side the 'switch line' was obliged to bulge out a bit from the side of the head in order to include Kallang aerodrome; also, the big guns at Changi would have to be abandoned. On the western side the 'switch line' was particularly easy to define, thanks to two rivers or creeks, the Jurong and the Kranji, which flowed north and south respectively just where the ear joined the skull. It was simply, then, a question of joining one creek to the other with a defensive line from north to south across the Island to isolate the western ear completely. Nothing could be simpler. be abandoned and that the forces defending them might withdraw to second lines of defence. These second lines of defence, known as 'switch lines', followed very roughly the sides of the elephant's head where the ears were stuck on to it: on the eastern side the 'switch line' was obliged to bulge out a bit from the side of the head in order to include Kallang aerodrome; also, the big guns at Changi would have to be abandoned. On the western side the 'switch line' was particularly easy to define, thanks to two rivers or creeks, the Jurong and the Kranji, which flowed north and south respectively just where the ear joined the skull. It was simply, then, a question of joining one creek to the other with a defensive line from north to south across the Island to isolate the western ear completely. Nothing could be simpler.

This 'switch line', known as the 'Jurong line', was accordingly reconnoitred but no effort was made to install fixed defences. This was for two reasons. One was that the troops were already frantically digging themselves in around the northern coast in order to prepare for the j.a.panese attack across the Strait of Joh.o.r.e and did not have time. The other was that Percival did not really think that the j.a.panese would come that way. He was pretty well convinced that they would attack somewhere along the top of the other (eastern) ear between Changi and Seletar.

Percival considered that the j.a.panese attack would fall on the north-east coast of the Island partly because Wavell, when they had discussed the prospect a couple of weeks earlier, had taken a different view: Wavell thought it would fall on the north-western. Nor was Wavell the only one: Brigadier Simson, the DGCD, clearly thought so, too, because he or his Deputy Chief Engineer had been dumping quant.i.ties of defensive material west of the Causeway on their own initiative. Ever since December it had been piling up: b.o.o.by-traps, barbed wire, high-tensile anti-tank wire, even drums of petrol with which to set fire to the water surface and searchlights to illuminate it at every possible landing site. He had even dumped anti-tank cylinders, blocks and chains by the sides of the roads. No doubt Simson meant well. The fact remained that, in Percival's view, he had the makings of a confounded nuisance. Ever since he had arrived he had been demanding that fixed defences should be built on the north sh.o.r.e of the Island. He simply had not wanted to realize what such defences would have done to the morale of the troops fighting up-country, or of the civilians either, come to that. Simson's latest was to start stripping the headlights off cars to augment his searchlights! The Governor, however, had soon put a stop to that. He himself, aware that there would no longer be much time left to prepare for the j.a.panese a.s.sault, had seen to it that the defensive material was shifted from west to east of the Causeway where, he was pretty sure, it would be needed.

Tormented by flies, light-headed from lack of sleep, Percival sat in his office at Sime Road, brooding over his maps and listening to the distant, monotonous thudding of the guns. The j.a.panese had wasted no time in moving up their heavy artillery, they were good soldiers, there was no denying it. Now they were laying down a heavy bombardment of the northern coast ... particularly, as it happened, west west of the Causeway. Ah, but Percival was not about to be fooled into thinking that that was where the attack would come! To bombard one sector and attack another was the oldest trick in the game. There was something almost pleasant, he found, in this constant thudding of guns, which included his own artillery sh.e.l.ling Joh.o.r.e and the hammering of ack-ack guns ... it reminded him curiously of his youth, of the endless artillery exchanges of the Great War. Terrible though that had been, it now seemed almost a pleasant memory. He thought for a moment of mentioning it to Brookers ... he, too, would have enjoyed the reminiscence. But then he remembered that Brooke-Popham had already returned to England. Just as well, really. The old chap was no longer quite up to this sort of thing. of the Causeway. Ah, but Percival was not about to be fooled into thinking that that was where the attack would come! To bombard one sector and attack another was the oldest trick in the game. There was something almost pleasant, he found, in this constant thudding of guns, which included his own artillery sh.e.l.ling Joh.o.r.e and the hammering of ack-ack guns ... it reminded him curiously of his youth, of the endless artillery exchanges of the Great War. Terrible though that had been, it now seemed almost a pleasant memory. He thought for a moment of mentioning it to Brookers ... he, too, would have enjoyed the reminiscence. But then he remembered that Brooke-Popham had already returned to England. Just as well, really. The old chap was no longer quite up to this sort of thing.

It occurred to Percival that what had gone wrong in the campaign until now was that he had never been able to act positively positively. Time and again he had been obliged to react. Thanks to Brooke-Popham's hesitations the j.a.panese commander had taken the initiative from the beginning and had never let it go. True, he himself had been the victim of the most extraordinary (indeed, suspicious) series of misfortunes. But the fact was that that unseen hand had led him by the nose. When Wavell had expressed the opinion that a j.a.panese attack would fall west of the Causeway, when, independently, it seemed, the Chief Engineer had started dumping material west of the Causeway, how easy it would have been to have made the a.s.sumption that this was where the attack would would fall! But something inside him had rebelled. He had sensed that once again that unseen hand was trying to lead him by the nose. He had told himself: 'Be objective!' And so he had cleared his mind of prejudices and looked at the map again, asking himself what he would have done if he had been the j.a.panese commander. The answer was: he would have launched his attack on the north-east coast using Pulau Ubin, the long island which lay in the Strait of Joh.o.r.e, to shield his preparations from the view of Singapore Island. Accordingly, Percival had allotted to the recently arrived British troops of the 18th Division whose morale had not been dented in the long retreat down the Peninsula the sector which he considered most critical... though the whole of the northern coast must be defended, of course. fall! But something inside him had rebelled. He had sensed that once again that unseen hand was trying to lead him by the nose. He had told himself: 'Be objective!' And so he had cleared his mind of prejudices and looked at the map again, asking himself what he would have done if he had been the j.a.panese commander. The answer was: he would have launched his attack on the north-east coast using Pulau Ubin, the long island which lay in the Strait of Joh.o.r.e, to shield his preparations from the view of Singapore Island. Accordingly, Percival had allotted to the recently arrived British troops of the 18th Division whose morale had not been dented in the long retreat down the Peninsula the sector which he considered most critical... though the whole of the northern coast must be defended, of course.

There was, however, still the possibility that he was wrong in expecting the j.a.panese attack to fall east of the Causeway. The Intelligence wallahs in Fort Canning, for example, were predicting an attack to the west. But what did they know about it? They knew no more than he did: they had no reconnaissance planes to help them. All the same, to be on the safe side, he had ordered Gordon Bennett to send over night patrols to the mainland to get a better idea of what the j.a.panese were up to. Bennett had been dragging his feet over this. He would have to give him some plain speaking.

He reached out for some papers on his desk and as he picked them up a photograph fell out of them: they were private papers of no great importance which he had brought with him from Flagstaff House with the intention of having them destroyed. The photograph, by a coincidence, was of Gordon Bennett and himself standing, by the look of it, outside Flagstaff House. They were both 'at ease', identically dressed except that Bennett was wearing a short-sleeved shirt while he himself had rolled his sleeves up to the elbow. But what struck Percival now was the difference of expression on their faces: while he himself was smiling pleasantly at the camera, Bennett, a short, plump fellow whose belt encircled a by no means negligible corporation, standing a few inches further back, was looking disaffected, was even glancing at him sideways out of the corner of his eye in a manner which could almost have been contemptuous. But perhaps he was simply imagining it... photographs are notorious for giving the wrong impression, for catching people with misleading expressions on their faces. Still, he had to admit that he no longer had the confidence in Bennett that he had once had. While many of the Australian troops had fought heroically and effectively, Bennett as their leader had proved a liability. Altogether Percival was glad that Bennett would be covering the north-western area which was least likely to be attacked.

Presently Percival's thoughts were interrupted by the GSO1 on duty in the War Room, and not with good news. An urgent message had come through from Kallang aerodrome by way of the RAF staff: one of the convoy of four ships transporting the remaining units of the British 18th Division, the Empress of Asia Empress of Asia, had fallen behind the other three and had not managed, under cover of darkness, to reach the (relatively) safe umbrella of Singapore's air defences. She had been attacked by dive-bombers off the Sembilan Islands and was in danger of sinking. Efforts were being made by the Navy to rescue survivors.

For some moments, while he considered this news, Percival was speechless. He had been so confident that the unseen hand would play no further part in his affairs ... and now this! He had been counting on the 18th Division arriving intact. At length, however, he collected himself and said mechanically to the GSO1: 'We must count ourselves lucky that that's the only ship we've lost.' Then, becoming brisk, he turned to other business. There was still a great deal to be done. He wanted to know in particular what progress was being made with the demolition of plant at the Naval Base; almost unbelievably, it seemed to him, Naval personnel had decamped to Ceylon on Admiralty orders, without even bothering to inform him that this demolition would have to be undertaken by his own hard-pressed troops.

A little later there was further news of the Empress of Asia Empress of Asia: although both the liner herself and the equipment she was carrying had been destroyed, the loss of life had been small. This undoubtedly was a good omen: Percival immediately summoned his driver and had himself conveyed to the docks to greet the survivors. True, they would not be much help without their equipment, which had included anti-tank guns (if only there had been more of those at the Slim River!) but it was still a step in the right direction. And every able-bodied man might prove useful in the end, provided there was sufficient time to establish satisfactory defences.

Then, however, an even more disturbing piece of news reached him; at last, on 7 February, Bennett had seen his way to sending the night-patrols he had asked for over to the mainland. On their return they had brought the dismaying report that j.a.panese troops were concentrating opposite the north-western sector. Could it be, Percival wondered, that his prediction was wrong? sector. Could it be, Percival wondered, that his prediction was wrong?

61.

In the first days of February it seemed to Matthew that the dock buildings were permanently ablaze. There the Mayfair unit would be sent whenever there were no fires to deal with in their own district, and so frequently did this occur that presently it became almost a ritual: they would report to Adamson and set into a hydrant, or if there were no hydrant, drop their suction hose into the filthy water of the dock itself and start up the pumps. No matter when they arrived, or where, it seemed that it was always Adamson who was in charge of the fire they had been sent to. It was a mystery when he found time to sleep. He would emerge from the drifting smoke, never in a hurry, strolling almost, as if perfectly remote from the fire raging close at hand.

At some time in the past few days Adamson had acquired a dog, a black and white sheepdog which had mysteriously adopted him at one of the fires he had attended and which added to his air of detachment. Very often when the Mayfair party arrived the dog would appear first out of the smoke, would examine them, sniffing and wagging its tail, and then disappear into the smoke again, returning presently with Adamson. Then Adamson would briefly explain the nature of the fire to the Major and the plan for fighting, or at least containing it ... for the bombs which caused the fires continued to fall with ritual precision, day after day, very often at ten or eleven o'clock in the morning and again in the afternoon, but always more rapidly than the fires, death and destruction which they brought about could be dealt with. The truth was that although the staff at the Central Fire Station in Hill Street continued to map the new outbreaks as best they could, there were likely to be as many 'unofficial' fires burning briskly in the docks or elsewhere in the city as those which had been reported and mapped. But somehow Adamson and his dog found out about these fires, sifted them and matched them against the pumps and fire-engines available, deciding which were the least dangerous and could be left to burn, and which had to be stopped then and there.

Once or twice, when the Major happened on an unattended fire on his way to the docks, he anxiously sought out Adamson to report it, only to find out that Adamson already knew about it. 'Let it burn, Major,' he would say with a curious, ironic smile and then go on to explain in his casual manner where the Mayfair pumps might come in useful. At times Adamson was to be seen in a jeep he had found somewhere, manoeuvring in and out of the piles of rubble and masonry that lay in the streets, while the black and white dog sat up on the seat beside him looking around with keen interest as if ready to alert his companion to any new fire that broke out. But more often, because of the dense traffic of military vehicles unloading equipment and trying to move food stores from the threatened G.o.downs to some safer location in the city, Adamson and his dog moved about on foot. Matthew, in particular, watched them with keen interest.

Despite his weariness, the hectic life he was leading, the constant danger, and his worries lest Vera should be trapped in Singapore, Matthew had not ceased to feel that novel sense of fulfilment which he had first experienced at the timber-yard fire. The satisfaction of doing something practical, the results of which were visible and practical, in the company of friends seemed to him so powerful that he was amazed that he should never have considered it before. While he had been cudgelling his brains with the question: 'What is the best way in which to live one's life?' with no other result than that a substantial part of that life had gone by in the process, the answer had been all around him, being demonstrated by the most ordinary of people.