PART ONE

CHAPTER 4
At one moment Clipton thought that the stormy passage which Colonel
Nicholson had forecast was going to be a short one and would end,
almost before it had begun, in terrible tragedy. As an M.O., he was the
only officer who was not directly involved in the fuss. Already up to his
eyes in work looking after the countless casualties due to exposure in the
jungle, he was not included in the labour corps; but this only served to
intensify his fear when he witnessed the first clash from the building
pompously labeled "Hospital", where he had reported for duty before
dawn.

Woken up while it was still dark by the whistles and the shouts of the
guards, the men had gone on parade in an ugly mood, still fuddled and
not yet fully recovered from the effects of the mosquitoes and the
wretched quarters. The officers had fallen in where they were told.
Colonel Nicholson had given them definite instructions.

"We must co-operate," he had said, "as far as is compatible with our
sense of honour. I, too, shall go on parade."

It was understood that obedience to Saito's orders would go no further

than that.

They were kept there for some time, standing to attention in the cold and
damp; then, as the sun rose, they saw Colonel Saito appear, surrounded
by junior officers and walking in front of the engineer who was to direct the
working parties. He seemed to be in a bad mood, but beamed as soon as
he saw the British officers lined up behind their commanding officer.
A truck full of tools brought up the rear. While the engineer was
supervising the issue of these, Colonel Nicholson stepped one pace
forward and asked to speak to Saito. The latter's face clouded over. He
said nothing, but the Colonel pretended to regard this silence as a sign of
assent and went forward to meet him.

Clipton could not follow his movements, for he had his back to him. But
after a bit he came into view, sideways on, and the M.O. saw him wave a
little book in the Jap's face, drawing his attention to one particular
paragraph—in the Manual of Military Law, no doubt. Saito was taken
aback. For a moment Clipton thought that a good night's sleep might have
put him in a better frame of mind, but he soon saw what a vain hope that
was. After the speech he had made the previous evening, even if he was
no longer in a bad temper, the vital importance of "saving face" now
dictated his conduct. He went purple with anger. He had expected to have
heard the last of this business, and here was the Colonel bringing it up all
over again. Such obstinacy drove him all of a sudden into a fit of raving
hysteria. Colonel Nicholson was calmly reading, running his finger along
each line, unaware of the transformation that had taken place. Clipton,
who could see the change in the Jap's expression, almost shouted out
loud to warn his CO. It was too late. With two swift strokes Saito had sent
the book flying and slapped the Colonel in the face. He was now standing
straight in front of him, bending forward, his eyes popping out of his head,
flinging his arms about and yelling abuse in a grotesque mixture of
English and Japanese.

In spite of his surprise—for he had not expected this reaction—Colonel

Nicholson kept his head. He picked up his book, which had fallen into the
mud, stood up again in front of the Jap, over whom he towered head and
shoulders, then calmly announced:

"In that case, Colonel Saito, since the Japanese authorities refuse to
abide by the laws in force in the rest of the civilized world, we consider
ourselves absolved from our duty to obey you. It only remains for me to let
you know what orders I've given. My officers will not do manual labour."

Having said this, he suffered without a murmur a second, still more

savage, attack. Saito, who seemed to have gone berserk, leapt at him
and, standing on tip-toe, hammered away at the Colonel's face with his
fists.

The situation was beginning to get out of hand. Some of the British
officers stepped out of the ranks and advanced in a threatening manner.
An angry growl rose from the rest of the unit. The Japanese N.C.O.s
shouted a word of command, and the soldiers cocked their rifles. Colonel
Nicholson asked his officers to fall in again and ordered his men to stay
where they were. Blood was pouring from his mouth, but he still preserved
his air of authority, which nothing could alter.

Saito, panting hard, stepped back and made as if to seize his revolver;
then he seemed to think better of it. He stepped further back and issued
an order in an ominously controlled tone of voice. The Japanese guards
surrounded the prisoners and motioned them forward. They marched
them off in the direction of the river, to the building-yards. There were one
or two protests and a slight show of resistance. A few anxious glances of
enquiry were fixed on the Colonel, who made it clear he wanted them to
obey the order. They eventually disappeared, and the British officers were
left alone on the parade ground, facing Colonel Saito.

The Jap started talking again, in measured tones which Clipton found
unnerving. His fears were not groundless. Some soldiers went off and
came back with the two machine- guns which were kept at the main gate
of the camp. They set them up, one on either side of Saito. Clipton's
uneasiness turned to cold terror. He had a view of the whole scene
through the bamboo partition of his "hospital". Behind him, lying in heaps,
were a score of wretches covered in open sores. Some had dragged
themselves forward and were looking on as well. One of them gave a
hoarse cry:
"Doc, they're not going to ... surely they can't? That yellow baboon
wouldn't dare! But the old man's sticking to his guns!"

Clipton thought it was quite likely that the yellow baboon would dare. Most
of the officers standing behind the Colonel were of the same opinion.
Mass executions had taken place at the fall of Singapore. Saito had
obviously ordered the men off the parade ground so that there should be
no tiresome witnesses. He was now speaking in English, ordering the
officers to pick up the tools and report for duty.

Colonel Nicholson's voice made itself heard again. He repeated his

refusal. No one moved. Saito gave another order. Ammunition belts were
slipped in and the guns were trained on the squad.

"Doc," sobbed the soldier standing next to Clipton, "Doc, the old man
won't give in. I'm telling you, he don't understand. We've got to do
something."

These words spurred Clipton into action; until then he had felt half-
paralysed. It was quite clear that the "old man" did not appreciate the
situation. He did not for a moment doubt that Saito would stop at nothing.
Something had to be done, as the soldier said; the "old man" had to be
told that he could not sacrifice the lives of twenty others out of sheer
stubbornness and for the sake of his principles; that neither his honour
nor personal dignity would suffer as a result of giving in to brute force, as
everyone else in the other camps had done. The words were on the tip of
his tongue. He rushed outside, shouting to Saito.

"Wait a moment, Colonel, wait; I'll tell him!"

Colonel Nicholson rebuked him with a frown.

"That'll do, Clipton. There's nothing more to be said. I'm quite aware of
what I'm doing."
In any case Clipton had not succeeded in getting as far as the squad. Two
guards had seized him and pinned him down. But his violent outburst
seemed to have made Saito think twice before taking action. Clipton
yelled at him, in a rapid torrent of words, so that the other Japanese
should not understand.

"I warn you, Colonel, I witnessed the whole scene; and so did the forty
men in hospital. You won't succeed in inciting us into a general riot or a
mass attempt to escape."

This was the last desperate card in his hand. Even in the eyes of the
Japanese authorities Saito would not be able to justify such an
unwarranted execution. He could not afford to leave any British witness
alive. Following this argument to its logical conclusion, he would either
have to massacre everyone on the sick list, including the M.O., or else
abandon all thought of revenge.

Clipton felt he had scored a temporary victory. Saito appeared to give the
matter a great deal of thought. He was choking with rage and the shame
of defeat, but he did not order his men to fire.

In fact he gave no order at all. The men remained where they were, with
their machine-guns trained on the squad. They remained like that for a
long time, a very long time indeed; for Saito refused to "lose face" by
ordering them to dismiss. They remained there for most of the morning,
without daring to move, until the parade ground was completely deserted.

It was hardly a decisive victory, and Clipton could not bear to think of what
lay in store for the recalcitrants. But there was some consolation in the
thought that he saved them from their immediate fate. The officers were
marched off to the prison camp under escort. Colonel Nicholson was
dragged away by a couple of gigantic Koreans, who were part of Saito's
personal bodyguard. He was taken into the Japanese colonel's office, a
small room which opened out on to his sleeping quarters, thus enabling
him to pay frequent visits to his store of drink next door. Saito slowly
followed his prisoner inside and carefully closed the door behind him.
Shortly afterwards Clipton, who was a sensitive man at heart, shuddered
as he heard the sound of blows.