Forgiveness (9 page)

The progression down Nathan Road was a march unlike any the men had experienced. Everywhere they looked, they saw people. In every shop and restaurant, and down every little alleyway, there was someone doing something.

For the boys from the Magdalen Islands, the next three weeks would be the closest to royal treatment they would ever experience. They were billeted in the Shamshuipo barracks, which was right next to the dockyard. Constructed for the British troops in 1927, it had an air of empire to it. The grounds were orderly, with green grass growing in the well-maintained courtyard. Chinese boys scuttled to and fro as servants, helping the men with their gear, asking to clean their shoes, cook them some meat. Mosquito nets hung over every standard-issue and precisely made bed. The concrete floors were swept clean, the bedding neatly tucked in. Everything seemed in order.

Ralph found his assigned bunk, unloaded his gear, and walked the perimeter of the camp to get his bearings. The camp sat atop steep cliffs that looked out over the harbour. It was a beautiful, expansive view. The Chinese junks with their large painted sails, which ferried goods and people across the harbour, looked like they were from another time. From these peaks, he could see Hong Kong Island. It, too, seemed a bustling place. Ringing the north side of the camp was a long, winding road that hugged the coast. The road led to downtown Kowloon, where a group of men headed just as soon as their commanding officers let them.

Major MacAuley gathered all the men in the centre courtyard. The excited group stood at attention with the greatest of difficulty. They were, after all, just boys. Most had never ventured out of their
province before enlisting. The foreign sights and smells outside the camp walls enticed their imagination. Now, halfway around the world, they were eager to soak up the sun and see what kind of fun they could find. The major reminded the boys of their obligation to their regiment and their country.
NO
funny business.

Ralph and Deighton met up with a crew that had already grouped together by the camp’s main gate. They left camp as quickly as the major’s words left their minds. In Kowloon, they first hit an open market. Food was prepared on the street, and fine silks in every colour hung from the vendors’ stalls.

“Ralphie, look at this place! Look at these prices! We’re going to live like kings.”

Deighton was right. The conversion rate was six Hong Kong dollars for every Canadian one. Even after the twenty-dollars-per-month that went to his mother, Ralph had about $130 Hong Kong dollars to spend on anything he wanted. It went a long way, and he came back from his first venture with some silk for baby Alayne. He also bought his mother a teapot; she was so fond of a good cup of tea. He told himself that he’d mail it as soon as he could. He would never get the chance.

By the time Ralph and Deighton made it back to camp, some soldiers had already hired local Chinese boys as personal servants to shave them, shine their shoes, and wash and press their clothes. Some men really lived it up from day one. The company’s shoemaker lost no time and promptly moved off base with a Chinese woman. Ralph could not let himself part with his money so easily. He would shave himself, thank you very much. He was determined not to get too carried away in this new world.

The first night ended with a big feast put on by many of the local folks to welcome their new Canadian guardians. There was beef, rice, shrimp dumplings, green tea, and, of course, a good amount of beer. Ralph went to bed with a full belly and a smile on his face. Things were looking up for him and his pals. This was going to be a breeze. For the next three weeks the men spent their days lazily
preparing the camp and their nights taking the rickshaws into town to hit the SunSun Café. They fraternized with the locals, playing ball with the local Portuguese ball team and getting into the odd brawl with their British comrades. The only enemy was the daily hangover.

Nothing lasts forever. Not with fifty thousand hardened Japanese troops coming at you with all their might.

December 7, 1941, started out like any other day for Ralph in his new home. But as he was finishing eggs and coffee for breakfast, he saw Deighton rush into the mess hall, eyes ablaze.

“Ralphie! Judas!”

Deighton grabbed Ralph by the arm. “Get under your gear! The Japs are coming hard at us. They hit everywheres: Hawaii, Guam … you name it. The major thinks we got over fifty thousand of ’em coming straight for us.”

Ralph quickly did the math. He knew they only had fourteen thousand men. He was a signalman, and he knew that the company’s heavy weapons would not land for another week. They were mistakenly sent to the Philippines.

Outnumbered nearly four to one and with no air force or navy, the Hong Kong garrison was doomed. Ralph thought of his father. If he had gone to the funeral, he would most certainly have been on the boats now en route to the Philippines. Maybe his father would get the last laugh after all.

It was decided that a small group would stay on the mainland and set up a security line just outside Kowloon. The Gin Drinker’s Line would be the first line of defence. The Scots and the Indians would defend the ten-mile line just north of Kowloon with enough men to hold out for as long as they could. The Royal Rifles would defend the east under Brigadier Cedric Wallis and the Winnipeg Grenadiers would defend the west under Major Christopher Maltby—the overall commander—would base his operation out of the Peninsula Hotel.

Ralph boarded a small boat with Bookie, Leslie, and Deighton and crossed the harbour. It took all afternoon. Setting foot for the
first time on the island they were charged with defending, they congregated at Aldrich Bay. An officer addressed the men. He got them cheering.

Ralph was in Headquarters Company, a group of specialists: carpenters, signalmen, cooks, and drivers. They were, by necessity, spread out as needed across the western part of the island. The problem was that nobody really knew what was needed. Confusion reigned and the Canadians scrambled to prepare for an attack. Ralph spotted his commanding officer, Lieutenant Peter MacDougall, a half-mile down the road. Half the company surrounded him. Ralph dashed over and tugged on Bookie’s sleeve.

“Where is everyone else?” Ralph asked.

“Who the hell knows? I hear a bunch of our guys got stranded back at Shamshuipo.”

“Ralph, come up here,” the CO called. He was opening a large map of the surrounding area. “We don’t know where the Japs are going to land. Take these three men and head to this town—” He pointed at Sheko. “I don’t have any trucks for you, so you better be off at first light tomorrow.”

Ralph nodded. The CO put his hand on his shoulder. “Rifleman, if you see troops landing, shoot to kill. If you see any light at night, shoot it to hell.”

Ralph nodded again. His mouth was so dry he could barely muster “Yes, sir.”

“Good luck. I’ll send a runner up for you with some food and water.”

That was it. With a slap on the back, Ralph had entered the war.

The men slept on the side of the road that night. Most had trouble getting to sleep in the open air. None of them knew this would be the most sleep they’d get for the next fourteen days.

At dawn, Ralph awoke. He took a deep breath as the previous day’s events washed over him. Bookie was up and making a little coffee with an army-issue pot and a small grass-fed fire. He waved Ralph over.

“Be right there. Gotta make some water.” Ralph said as he made his way to the road’s edge away from the guys. He had a view of the harbour and the clear dawn sky. With wispy clouds blowing in from the open ocean, it didn’t look that much different from the sky back home. He wondered if his mother had heard about the attacks of the day before. He started to do his business, looking down as he peed on the dark green grass. When he looked back up, he saw three dark specks falling hard out of the clouds. He zipped and ran.

Minutes later the sky was full of buzzing Japanese Zero airplanes, a nest of hornets swooping in and out of the ocean-blown clouds. They were strafing Shamshuipo and the Gin Drinker’s line. Ralph stood with the other men. A grave silence befell them. All they could do was watch and listen to the horrific first sounds of war, a wave of explosions that struck fear into their souls. This fear was to become their constant companion.

Ralph looked at his watch: 6 a.m. Time to move. He and his companions set out for Sheko, a town he’d never heard of on an island he only knew by the lines of the map he held in his hand. They caught a ride for part of the journey and then walked south for fifteen hours straight.

Sheko was not so much a town as a few houses on the southern cliffs of Hong Kong. By the end of the day, the four men had traversed the entire island. They had not stopped once. Their feet were on fire with blisters the likes of which they’ve never felt before. The final three hours they had had to cut their way through heavy brush as the road had been washed out. One of the chaps had had the foresight to bring a machete. Without it, they might never have reached their objective.

For the next five days, these men experienced the war in slow-motion. They saw nothing of the fighting. They heard only the loudest of explosions off in the distance, like the thunder claps that rang off the cliffs of Pleasant Bay. This was the army’s standard of hurry-up-and-wait at its most agonizing.

The angels were smiling on Ralph and the other three men during those 120 hours. In that time, the Gin Drinker’s Line had been completely overrun. It took the Japanese only two hours. The men who survived the heavy aerial assault and fierce ground attacks were pulled back onto the island. With the mainland completely in their control, the Japanese army set up their heavy artillery and began to shell the island. The Canadians could only take cover and wait for the impending ground assault.

The bombing was intense throughout the day. The thunderous roar sounded like hell had opened up on the north side of the island. Ralph took the watch as the other men caught a bit of sleep.

The Japanese artillery pounded the island. They were systematically blasting away at all the fortified positions along the coastline, one after another. It seemed to the Canadians that they were waiting in line for their destruction. When they would take up a new position, the artillery would find them with unfailing accuracy. Artillery shells fell like rain. Everything within range was left in rubble. Troops’ movements were pinpointed and targeted. It took the defenders two days to realize that their communication system had been compromised.

Ralph and the three men with him were cut off. They had no idea what was happening except that their friends were taking a heavy beating. The sound of falling bombs had them all on edge. Sammy Shane, an American with a Thompson submachine gun, was the jumpiest. He heard a twig snap and unloaded his entire clip into a bush. The culprit, a small brown rabbit, escaped unscathed.

At dusk, after a shared can of bully beef, Ralph took watch again. The others tried to catch a few moments of sleep. They were atop a small hill overlooking a few houses and the shoreline. The wind had begun to pick up, blowing in low-lying clouds, ensuring a dark night without stars. Ralph had just given one of the guys lying beside him a little shove to keep him from snoring. Sitting on his
cot, wrapped in his blanket, he saw a flash of light. Or at least he thought he did. Your mind plays tricks on you after days of fear and nothingness. He grabbed his rifle and chambered a round with the bolt action. Standing, he raised and pointed the rifle in the direction of that flicker of light. He had yet to fire a gun in anger. He heard the CO’s voice running through his mind:
if you see a light, shoot it to hell.

There it was, the same light. It looked to be coming from one of the houses of Sheko. It was impossible to tell for sure. The light went off and on twice. Was it a message? Again, impossible to tell. Nor did it matter: Ralph had his orders. He lined the light up in his sights and squeezed the trigger, then chambered another round and fired again. The three sleeping lads leaped out of their blankets. They were standing beside him with their rifles drawn by the time he chambered a third round.

“A light, just to our three o’clock,” Ralph whispered.

The light flickered again.

All four men opened up. They heard one bullet ricochet off something tin or metal. The light went out. It did not come back on.

Ralph’s shift was up. He had taken no pleasure in his first piece of action. He unrolled his blanket and tried his best to fall asleep.

He awoke to the sound of heavy footsteps. It was a runner sent from headquarters. He came with water and another few cans of bully beef.

“How are you guys doing? See anything?” he asked.

“Shot at a few lights last night. Other than that, nothing,” Ralph reported.

“Well, consider yourselves lucky. We are taking a beating on the north end. The shells just won’t stop. They’ve already taken half our pillboxes out along the coast. It’s only a matter of time before they’re all gone. We’ll only have the forest as cover by the time the Japs land,” the runner predicted.

“Any other news?” one of the guys asked.

“A good hundred guys are dead. Bodies are washing up everywhere. Wish I had better news for you. I gotta get back. Take care,
guys.” And with that, the runner disappeared into the thick brush along the path that Ralph had cut a few days before.

The following three days brought the same constant drone of artillery explosions in the distance. And then the same runner, looking liked he’d aged a decade, popped out from the bush. He was the first human being Ralph and the others had seen in six days.

The runner led them to Palm Villa, which had been a vacation resort before the war. Now Japanese forces were everywhere. The runner waved his arm and they all crouched down behind some thick brush, then he pulled a pair of binoculars from his pack and found an opening in the shrubs. He searched back and forth, up and down.