NX55172 - PHILLIPS, Clarence James (Tankie), Pte.

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Tankie - by Leslie G. Hall

He was only a short lad and barely made the minimum height required for enlistment into the Australian Imperial Forces. But he made it and was a proud youngster when he first donned tile somewhat ill-fitting khaki uniform issued to him at Wallgrove training camp, near Rooty Hill, in the Western Suburbs of Sydney.

It was there he formed a friendship that was to last the whole of his army life that eventually took him to Singapore, the Federated Malayan States and Burma. He met someone quite a few years his senior who bore the name of Max, and an immediate bond grew between them. Tankie was the son of an Afghanistan father and an Australian mother. He was the youngest of a family of four and prior to enlisting was employed as a glassblower with a Sydney firm.

After a few weeks' training in the dust and heat of Wallgrove, volunteers were called for the 2/30 Infantry Battalion, then forming at Tamworth, in the Northern District of New South Wales. Tankie and Max jumped at the opportunity to get into a regiment that was rumoured to be part of the 8th Australian Division, of which one Brigade, the 22nd, was undergoing intensive training at Bathurst. On the 22nd November, 1940, the two aspiring infanteers became originals in the unit that was soon to become known as "Galleghan's Greyhounds", so named after the Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Colonel F.G. Galleghan, a strict disciplinarian and an excellent soldier.

Tankie and Max became signallers in No. 1. Platoon, Headquarter Company, and applied themselves in no uncertain manner, remembering the words of the C.O. in his opening address when the new battalion had formed up in front of the grandstand in Tamworth Showground. He stood there for what seemed an eternity, his eyes roaming up & down the ranks of each Company. Then his voice boomed out………………………….

"My name is Galleghan - spelt with an e - and whilst you may all think you are trained soldiers, to me you are just a bunch of rookies. From now on you will train hard, play hard, but I will make soldiers and men out of every one of you. Those who fail are OUT. It will be infantry training by day and specialist by night".

And so it was. It was not too long before those who could not take the rigorous programme were sorted out and marched away. In their places came other volunteers who were welcomed with calls of………."You'll be sorry……You'll be sorry". Some of the newcomers only laughed at the welcoming groups until they heard what their new Commanding Officer had to say as they paraded in front of Headquarter Company orderly room. They were a somewhat chastened bunch when marched away to their respective quarters.

Tankie, Max and all members of the communications specialist group had settled into a well ordered routine. By January of 1941 they were well trained and functioned as an important part of the Unit. However the acid test was applied when the Regiment was brigaded at Bathurst camp with the 2/26 and the 2/29 Infantry Battalions forming the 27 Brigade, Eighth Division.

If they thought the training at Tamworth was hard they soon discovered that it was child's play as compared to what they were to undergo over the fields, hills and gullies in the Bathurst area. Worst of all they were there in the middle of winter! Exercises in difficult terrain were commonplace as were route marches of thirty miles or more. Signal lines had to be laid in snow covered areas which included creeks, slopes, hills and timbered country.

The "Old Man", as the C.O. was affectionately called, drove his men hard as he prepared them for what lay ahead in battle in some distant land. As Malaya, where the 22 Brigade now trained, was a distinct possibility, timbered country was selected if possible, to acquaint his troops with jungle-like warfare.

Of all the signallers in the unit none was more active in line laying than little Tankie. He was a tireless exponent of fast communication and could aerial or ground-lay cable even before some Companies were in position. It was he who earned credit for the Platoon by his determination to prove that speed in signals provision was as great a necessity as guns in front line action.

Tiny Tankie with the wide open grin was like a mascot to the Unit. His popularity grew in bounds as he took part in every leisure activity - when they had it - be it sport of any kind.

In mid July, 1941, came news that final leave was about to be granted and it was greeted with doubt by some and exhilaration by many. They were tired of playing at war and wanted to come to grips with a real enemy, if there was to be one in the Far East, their believed destination. Final leave was granted after the Unit had completed a route march of some thirty miles to Blayney, across country to Orange, a ceremonial parade through that city and thence over hills, dales and countless fences back to Bathurst. At the entrance to the camp stood Brigadier Marshall and staff to review troops as they, led by the Unit Band, marched, ceremoniously past the saluting base into their "home" area.

On the 29th July, 1941, the 2/30 Battalion, Eighth Division, boarded a Dutch liner and sailed out of Sydney Harbour for an undisclosed destination. Prior to the embarkation the train conveying them to Darling Harbour was "held" up at Parramatta Railway Station where the wives of Tankie, Max and others had gathered to wave them farewell as the double-engined train was to have sped through. For an emotional three or more minutes, wives, mothers and sweethearts clung to their loved ones, many for the last time in a farewell of tears and hopes. As the train pulled out, Tankie stood on a carriage platform, waving goodbye to his beloved Thelma. Although his eyes, and those of Max were misty, his wonderful smile remained indelibly imprinted in the minds of all who witnessed those blessed moments. Max was one.

As the train rounded a bend near Harris Park, Tankie, for the first time lost his reserve. "Max", he said, "I've never loved Thelma more than I do at this minute. God only knows if I will ever see her again, but if I don't please tell her how I hated that moment of parting. I wonder if I am doing the right thing? I hope I am".

Jack Bartlett was as white as a sheet and tears streamed down his face at the thought of Patricia, his wife, who, at that moment, was tending the family business at Merrylands just a mile or so from Parramatta Railway Station, where so many wives had had the opportunity to embrace their husbands in farewell. Looking at the faces of Tankie and Max he could see the anguish he himself had within him. At last it came out as his pent up feelings let go……

"If I had known it was going to be like this I would never have joined up. What have I done to my Pat? Will I ever see her again? We have had a beautiful marriage and now I have left her to battle on on her own. Forgive me if you can dearest. I promise you I will never, never leave your side again".

The train had almost arrived at its destination before the built-up emotions of many in that carriage began to subside. "Togo" Johnson was one who had decided to break the pregnant silence and he and his singing partners, Les Davidson, "Scotty" Davison & others jumped up as a group and sang the ever popular refrain of "PLAYMATES", a song to be sorrowfully remembered in the agony of the years that followed that all important day in their lives. By the time they had boarded the Liner the quiet ones had become too busy to dwell on the minutes with their loved ones so unexpectedly given them by the kindly railways signalman, a next door neighbour to Max and family, at Parramatta. Hammocks had to be slung, gear packed and messing arrangements made.

Just before tugs took the ship from the wharf and out into the stream of Sydney Harbour an excited Tankie sought Max who was on some detail or other that was immediately suspended at his mates insistence. Using semaphore signals Max was surprised to read that a small boat was quite close to the liner and it contained his wife and her mother. As they looked down from the top deck at the tiny boat bobbing up and down in the wake of a Water Police launch they could clearly see two tearful women waving feverishly and calling out, "Max, Max……Tankie...Tankie", but, the emotion filled two soldiers could only wave in return as calls of "Coo-ee" and the singing of the haunting melody of "Now is the hour" drowned out any chance of a message being heard. That little ship of the sea followed the liner out to the heads. The last sight of it by the two mates was Max's wife up in the bow waving a last farewell as the Netherlands liner turned south.

The voyage to Singapore was broken by a call at Fremantle where extra stores were taken on. Shore leave was granted to approximately two thirds of the troop strength, the remainder, except those in sick bay, made up the guard for Perth. Max and Tankie were amongst the latter and remained in a Red Cross rest room until their tour of street patrol began at 8.00 p.m.

Hotels closed at 9.00 p.m. and the patrol was warned it was possible some civilians could cause trouble as troops poured out into the streets. The Police were quite right as Max 11 Max knew, when struck on the back of the head by a bottle wielded by a brutish, redheaded giant of a man. Despite his size and weight the diminutive Tankie 11 grappled with him and by sheer strength borne out of fear for his stricken mate's life, threw the surprised bottle wielder to the pavement. At that moment the Police moved in and arrested the trouble maker. Max, other than a bad head for a few hours, suffered no injury and Tankie 11 was commended by the Guard Commander for his timely action.

On the 15th August, 1941, the 27 Brigade made up of the 2/26, 2/29, and 2/30 Battalions and attached troops, disembarked at Singapore. Thus began a four year stint in which many battles were fought, lives lost and thousands were to be incarcerated in camps of living hell as prisoners-of-war.

Throughout the fighting Tankie 11 proved his worth many times over. His coolness under fire was astounding. The moment a line was blown by bombs or shellfire he and Jimmy McNab, without being detailed, would set out to effect repair in order to maintain communication, the life-blood of a fighting unit. There was not one Signaller who let his Platoon down. Despite casualties and battle losses, communications remained constant even on Singapore Island where, at the Causeway position, twenty-three miles of cable (equipment for Infantry Signals was 8 miles of cable and eight phones) and thirty-two phones were installed. (The signallers became adept at converting civilian phones for use on D3 type cable.)

That heavy lay taxed the lads to the utmost, but their outstanding ability and courage under fire soon proved they were equal to any task confronting them. The hard training in Australia and subsequently in Malaya had proved its worth. The Signallers of the 2/30 Battalion were second to none! On the night of the 9th February, 1942 the Japanese, under an umbrella of artillery fire, landed on the West Coast of the Island & were fiercely engaged by the practically untrained reinforcement elements of the 2/19 & 2/29 Battalions. But those lads, who but a few weeks' previously were civilians, fought with a tenacity that astounded the enemy and almost repulsed the landing.

However, lack of essential training told its tale and although they fought with great distinction, superiority of numbers and equipment forced them to retire after suffering heavy losses. Once the enemy had established a holding they poured troops & equipment over the Straits. By the 13th February (Black Friday) it was apparent the defenders had little chance of throwing them back on the mainland. Pattern bombing, heavy artillery barrages plus naval shelling was having its effect. Civilians as well as fighting forces suffered alike. Additionally, the water supply to the Island had been cut by the enemy at Johore Bahru.

On the fateful 15th February, 1942, at 8.30 p.m., the Armed Forces defending Singapore Island were ordered to lay down arms. When that unexpected order came through the troops were astounded as they had expected to fight to a finish; surrender, unconditional at that, was last in their thoughts. But it was an order and orders had to be obeyed.

THEY WERE NOW PRISONERS OF WAR!

The eerie silence after the crash of bursting bombs, gunfire and the wail of sirens was sort of frightening. Bewildered tired soldiers sought solace in each others' company wondering what was to happen next. At 9.00 p.m. the following night Tankie 11 produced a radio set he had found in an abandoned house quite near to the 2/30 Battalion position. He tuned into the New Delhi news session, and heard……

"LET THE JAPANESE TAKE AUSTRALIA"……the words of Sir Winston Churchill, Prime Minister of England, trailed off into the distance as the stunned listeners, who had gathered around the radio set in the gardens of “Tyersall” Palace, Singapore, tried to grasp the shattering significance of what they had just heard.

They could not believe it possible that their country, their homes, wives, mothers and children could be subjected to an invasion threat as the words of Churchill suggested. "Let the Japanese take Australia"…… NO! That was unthinkable & yet they had just heard the British leader say that very thing. They all felt as if their heads would burst. Their brains were in a whirl of tortured belief and unbelief. Some sat with heads bowed trying, trying so hard to comprehend yet another and worse tragedy than the fall of Singapore, and what their future as prisoners-of-war meant to them.

"Max" said Tankie Phillips to his mate. "Do you think they can do it; is it possible?".

"I don't know, Tankie 11, I just don't know. Churchill has flattened me. I've got a wife, two teenage daughters, my mother and other relatives and God only knows what they now face".

"I'm sorry Max, but I have a wife and mother too, you know, I'm frightened. I can't tell you how I feel, for myself it doesn't matter, but for those at home the horror is too frightful to contemplate".

They had all just forgotten the radio was still sounding off until an anguished voice called out, "Switch it off, I can't stand to hear another word". As "Togo" Johnson wandered off into the darkness of the night to be alone with his disturbed thoughts, others sat glumly as cast in stone. The fact that they were prisoners-of-war and in possible peril themselves seemed to mean nothing to them. All their thoughts were back in Australia, the land they had always thought was totally immune from the actual threat of invasion. But, was it? If the "Bulldog" of Britain doubted the immunity of that great continent, and he should at least have some idea, then what was the future?

"Just why did we have to toss it in. We weren't beaten. I haven't seen a blasted Nip yet". With those words, loaded as they were with unanswered questions, Jack Bartlett, spectacles on the end of his nose, glared at a few of his Signaller mates as if they could give him the answers his seared brain sought. Flinging his arms wide he peered into the face of Peter Murphy whose features were contorted as he mouthed unspoken words. "Let's make a break for it, Pete. We can pick up a boat from somewhere and head for home". The quiver in his voice betrayed the emotion he was under. Something had to be done and quickly before his irrationality became infectious. Three or four stood up as if in readiness to join Jack and Peter in an obvious risky venture.

Tankie 11, the ever reliable level-headed youngster took Jack's arm and quietly said "Don't try it. You know what we were told about the Japs ringing Keppel Harbour. The place is swarming with trigger-happy enemy troops and they'll shoot at anything that moves. They haven't got Australia yet. They've got three thousand miles of water between here and Sydney and a hell of a lot of our blokes to beat before they can put a foot on any of our beaches". The popular little lad from Alexandria, Sydney, although small in statue, at that moment stood ten feet tall. Jack wanted to wrench himself away and go and seek his own counsel, but somehow the look on Tankie's face impelled him to stay and listen.

"He's right you know ", said Wally Starr who had enlisted into the A.I.F. from Norfolk Island. "They've only just taken Singapore and it's a heck of a long way from Australia. Better we try and help each other. For a start, as we have had little sleep for over a month why not grab a bit of rest now? We might all feel much better in the morning".

Sleep, who at that moment could even consider it?

The hours of the night appeared long as disturbed thoughts raced through the minds of the now prisoners-of-war who not only faced a future fraught with numberless possibilities, but what was to happen to those they loved back home? Tankie 11 and Max 11 Max had been mates since Wallgrove days back in September, 1941. They had stunk together through good and bad times training, and latterly fighting. No matter what lay ahead for them they would still go on sharing, even if they should face death in doing so.

Late in April, 1942, rumours were current that the Japanese intended shipping a large force of prisoners to an unknown overseas destination. Those in the "know" were quite positive there was to be an exchange of prisoners, probably in Timor. Like drowning men clutching at any straw everyone, in what could be described as reasonable health, wanted to be included. Soon the rumour became a fact; a party to be known as "A" Force under the command of Brigadier Varley, was to be formed. Many of the prisoners found a new lease of life as they discussed the many possibilities they could see in the very near future. Against a cardinal rule in the army never to volunteer, they did just that; they volunteered en-masse!

Manifests were being prepared which included Tankie Phillips, but not his close mate Max 11 Max. The breaking of the partnership was a shock to both of them and every effort was made to either have Tankie 11 withdrawn or for the inclusion of Max 11 Max. Despite representations made by the two of them no alteration was made and Max 11 Max decided on a plan of his own whereby wherever Tankie 11 went he would not be far behind. On the day of the final parade at Changi, for "A" Force personnel, Max 11 Max was given permission to join the ranks for that day, only. The Japanese issued orders that a group comprising 1,000 other ranks & Officers was to board the "Celebes Maru". Lieutenant Colonel G.E. Ramsay - known as "Gentleman George" by members of the 2/30 Battalion - was appointed Commander of the group which was to become "Ramsay Force".

On the night of the 13th May, 1942, Tankie 11 and Max 11 Max visited the quarters of Major Charles Cousens, 2/19 Battalion, who was to be Officer Commanding one company in "Ramsay Force". The three had previously planned to attempt an escape. from Changi by "borrowing" a twin engined Dakota plane the Japanese used on daily patrols. That plan misfired when the Australian Sergeant pilot discovered the auxiliary motor, required to start the engine, was removed each night. And, without some means of swinging the propellers, it was a no-go!

Now an alternative presented itself ....make a break for it from wherever they were to be landed. One problem, however, had to be overcome......how was Max 11 Max going to get aboard the vessel without being observed by officers of the 2/30 Battalion. Not long before "Ramsay Force" members assembled on the parade ground adjoining Selerang Barracks as dawn broke on the morning of the 14th May, 1942, a lone figure crept out of a building and disappeared from view. As Jimmy McNab and Tankie 11 were saying farewell to their Signals Platoon mates Jimmy looked for but could not find Max 11 Max. He said to Bob Wright, dysentery victim not included in the going away party, "Where is Max 11 Max?"

"Blowed if I know", replied Bob. "He was here about an hour ago and when he went out I thought he was on his way to the latrines. Unless he is crook he should be back by now". "Oh, don't worry", said Tankie 11. "I'll bet he will be downstairs waiting to see us board the trucks. We'd better get going or we'll miss the bus". With a cheery wave of his hand and his usual Sydney Heads grin he picked up his meagre belongings and set out on what he hoped to be a great adventure, and freedom in the near future.

"What a dirty old tub. Is that what we are going away on?" "Looks like it, Jim" replied Tankie 11. For a while the freckled-face of Jimmy McNab looked perplexed. He was squatting on the wharf and appeared to be looking for someone. Tankie 11 was pondering as to what troubled him and said:- "What are you troubled about, Jim?"

"I don't understand. You and Max 11 Max have been together and good mates for a long time yet he didn't have the decency to say so-long, before we left Changi. Not like him, you know. I've got a feeling something is just not right with him. Hope I am wrong. He was a thoughtful bloke in many ways".

"Jim I have to tell you. He didn't dodge us back at Changi. When we get aboard that heap of cast iron, Max 11 Max will be there somewhere. He planned it last night and he is going to stow away. If we get the chance later on, we have another plan, which, you are in on too, if you want to be". "Plan?".... "Yes. Jim. It all depends on where we land. I don't believe that Timor business. Where we are going means work and plenty of it, but we hope to make a break for it and get back home."

"Suppose we end up in Japan. What then Tankie 11?"

"Hell, Japan doesn't fit into ideas at all. I hope you are wrong there, Jim".

"Ramsay Force" landed at Mergui, South Burma, an the 24th May, 1942, and the troops were housed in the town school. Accommodation was at a premium in a building formerly occupied by about three hundred children. To billet 1,500 prisoners, an additional 500 having been taken on board at Sumatra, in that area was a problem not easy to overcome. The Japanese demanded the best of the buildings for their Headquarters and guards.

The first tragedy at Mergui was the execution of two prisoners who had ventured outside the fence in an endeavour to find food. Despite the impassioned plea by the Australian Commander, Ramsay, for clemency in view of the fact they had not attempted escape, but merely sought foodstuff to appease their ever present hunger pains, the Japanese High Command decreed they must die. On the seventh day after their "recapture" they were forced to dig their own graves. Tied to a stake they were put to an untimely death at the hands of a firing squad. The sound of the shooting made those who heard it writhe with ungoverned rage and fired them with a determination to avenge, in whatever way humanly possible, their terrible sentence.

The 1,500 prisoners were assigned to build an aerodrome some two miles out of the town. The tools supplied were very primitive, chunkels - a kind of large hoe - picks and shovels. To cart and distribute soil, a rice bag was slung between two poles and carried by two "white coolies", as the Nipponese naval guards described the prisoners. For the first couple of weeks there was a frenzied drive by the guards to proceed with the works at speed. The closer the wet season approached the more the cry of "speedo, speedo" was heard. And the harder the guards drove the weakened force, the more the dirt and that is what it was, was tipped in the wrong place.

At times the frantic guards were quite bewildered at the "stupidity" of their charges who wantonly wasted soil, then picked it up and dropped it anywhere bar where the gestulating sailors wanted it placed. Despite the ever flashing pick handles & the raucous chant of "Koora, koora", the workers maintained their tempers and soon learned to "ride" each whack. In their own way the "white coolies" were getting a bit back on their captors by their frustrating tactics of doing everything the opposite to the "engineers" requirements.

And then came the monsoonal season and the prisoners were high in their praise of the "tap-turner" way up in the sky. But, their elation was short-lived as the Japanese Camp Commandant issued an order that dispelled any hope of the suspension of work on the 'drome. It was…… "All mans will work in the rain". And so it came about that the welcomed downpour was anything but a boon. It was just another health hazard that had, somehow, to be overcome. Working in dry weather was one thing, but labouring in a continual downpour day in and out was something not one prisoner counted on having to do.

Just prior to the wet season all prisoners had been moved to a new camp closer to the aerodrome and well away from town. It was of bamboo construction, atap roofing and sides. The crowded conditions of the schoolrooms was not apparent here and each occupant had a minimum of 24" space; quite luxurious when compared to the accommodation provided on the "stinkship", and their first "home" in Burma. However another execution of a prisoner caught just ten yards outside the fence, seeking food, marred any pleasure that may have been felt by the camp inmates. The horrible incident caused greater wrath within each one and the chilling thought that death by a firing squad may be the "reward" for any minor misbehaviour.

Working in the rain and living on meagre rice rations did nothing to improve the health state of the 1,486 prisoners-of-war. Dysentery was now rife, amoebic and bacillary types had already claimed the lives of eleven British lads. And without medicines of any description, many more passings were expected. Colonels Ramsay, Commander, and Coates, Senior Medical Officer, made countless appeals to Lieutenant Ishihara, Japanese "medical officer", for the provision of medical supplies. He, at least, did exhibit some interest and even took Colonel Coates to the local hospital where it was hoped supplies might be available. All they found was some Epsom salts which was immediately impounded.

Billy Moynihan, a Sergeant in the 2/30 Battalion, together with "Tankie" Phillips, Jimmy McNab, "Pop-eye" Kentwell and Les Nielson made many forays into the town and made good contacts. The sick in the "hospital" huts never knew the death defying risks those five lads took in order to get them eggs, bananas, dried fish and other life-giving foods from the townsfolk. It was Tankie 11 who laid the groundwork for the regular clandestine trips, as the colour of his skin was the open sesame to quite a few "traders". He was so alike a Burmese he was able to move freely, especially at night, without fear of detection. However; to some of the locals the lure of the reward, offered for any prisoner caught outside the camp boundaries, was too great a temptation. It became common to see furtive figures wandering and watching outside the fence under cover of darkness & the tree growth. Only on two occasions did they succeed in collecting the "bounties", for which three Australians paid the supreme penalty.

By August, 1942, the work on the 'drome was completed and the Japanese High Command ordered "Ramsay Force" to prepare for another move, by sea, for an unknown destination. On the afternoon of the 10th the whole force of 1,483, including the sick, was loaded on board a vessel even smaller than the penal ship, "Celebes Maru", and sailed in a northerly direction. The voyage was nothing short of a terrible nightmare for those hounded below deck. In reality the run from Singapore to Mergui was in stark contrast & could be considered comfortable as compared to what they were now experiencing. The heat generated by closely packed bodies was almost unbearable, as was the putrid odour that wafted up from the hatches.

Fortunately the sick were allowed to stay on deck and under cover of an awning erected for that purpose. Toilet facilities were a bit hazardous; they consisted of a sort of bosun's chair slung over the sides of the heaving "rust bucket". The following morning the prisoners were off-loaded into rice barge& and taken to the town of Tavoy. Many other Australian, British and Dutch prisoners, had proceeded "Ramsay Force" and were employed on aerodrome construction. Quarters at Tavoy were, if anything, an improvement on the Mergui "mansions" and more room was available. Colonel Ramsay was at his diplomatic best at Tavoy and succeeded in gaining many more privileges for his men than had been the case at their last camp. The Japanese Commandant, believed to have been a SHINTO Priest was much more humane in his thinking and treatment and even permitted a Burmese trader to enter camp on many occasions. The wares he had to offer included sweet cakes, some fruit and vegetables. The latter were given to the sick and a steady improvement in their health state resulted.

Of all the prison camps the Australians occupied, perhaps Tavoy stood out as the most humane as far as treatment was concerned. Corporal Kumada was in charge of the guard, & on numerous occasions on his daily rounds of the huts he was known to have approached Colonel Coates, if he saw a prisoner whom he thought needed urgent medical treatment. Such concern had never been experienced before and appeared out of character for a Nipponese guard. The most disturbing happening at Tavoy was the execution of eight Australian prisoners, former members of the 2/4 Machine Gun Battalion, who had been recaptured after an escape attempt. It had a sobering influence on many others who had made their tentative plans to get out of the camp confines and head for Assam, India, travelling by night and living off the country.

Tankie 11 had been able to contact a Burmese, who had, some years before, been the servant of Major Cousens, when he was in the Indian Army. He gave warning, that any white man breaking out of camp ran the risk of almost instant detection as Burma was peopled by a dark race. Added to that of course, was the bounty the Japanese offered for the recapture of any escapee. (Major Cousens, mentioned earlier, had been taken to Japan & forced to broadcast news items with a somewhat sinister content. He had been an announcer on Station 2GB, Sydney, pre-war).

Early in 1943 "Ramsay Force" was ordered to move and headed out in a northerly direction to a village named Ye. No transport was provided and the strain on the sick personnel was obvious. It was nothing to see Tankie 11, Jim McNab, Arnold Ainsworth & many others carrying not only their own gear but that of their not-so-well mates & assisting them to keep up in the march, as well. Some days later the marchers arrived at a camp some 26 kilometres from Thanbyuzayat. It was from this point the very real hardship of prisoner-of-war life was to rear its ugly head. They were now on the site of the Burma - Thailand infamous railway building project. A project that was to cause the deaths of thousands of prisoners, internees and Burmese forced labourers.

The following day work parties were formed and from then on the slavery began and continued until eighteen months later when the railway was completed. But, during that long, disastrous period, undreamed of suffering and inhuman savagery became a daily occurrence. Only primitive type tools were available to slash and cut rocky surfaces, dig out vast cuttings, erect bridges and lay sleepers and rail lines. It was here too they came under the command of the bestial Korean guards. The race that had been trodden under for decades by the Japanese, now to run riot over the hated white race. And they did! From daylight until late at night, and quite often all night, the Koreans drove the workers with cries of "Koora, Koora" and "speedo, speedo" until many collapsed from sheer exhaustion, injury or illness. To be sick was no excuse to stop working. In many instances the sick were carried out to the line on bamboo stretchers and made to crack rock from what they lay on.

Life became a misery and many longed for and achieved death. The rice ration grew less and less. Salt, meat and vegetables were luxuries only the guards enjoyed & prisoners longed for. There were more mealtimes than meals and malnutrition induced illnesses were common, tropical ulcers, too, became prevalent and legs open from knee to ankle became a common sight. By June, 1943, "Ramsay Force" had reached the 75 kilo camp and the Japanese Command stepped up the tempo of work. Hand operated generators were introduced to provide lighting for the night shift, which was really an extension into the night for those who had commenced work at daybreak. The real effects of lack of vitamins really showed up at the 75 camp. One of the worst ailments was partial blindness; "sleepy" feet (feeling of burning and very severe pain) and the dreaded cholera; Pellagra, a malnutrition disease, was also common, in addition to beri-beri and associated ailments.

Malaria was a complaint common to just about all prisoners and many became quite blasé about the recurrences. Approximately two thirds of Ramsay Forces’ "White Coolies" were suffering some kind of illness and in due course the Japanese "dentist cum doctor" Higuchi ordered a full parade in order to "diagnose" the fit and unfit. Despite the combined protests of Lieutenant Colonels Ramsay and Coates, Chief Medical Officer, 1,000 were ordered to march that night to a new camp some thirty kilometres further southwest. The new "home" was to be known as the 105 kilo camp. For' many it was to be a final resting place. The ravages of sheer hard work associated with the lack of food which in turn was to cause many illnesses proved too hard a load to bear, and death became a haven of rest.

The workforce became so depleted it resulted in a visit and inspection by Colonel Nagatomo, Japanese Commandant, who grudgingly admitted "some mans" were too ill and diseased to continue working and they were to be taken back to the 55 kilo, where an up to-date "hospital" was functioning under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Coates and medical staff, including Major Hobbs and Captain Cumming. It was to that alleged hospital that the two mates, Tankie 11 and Max 11 Max, found themselves heading the next day. Both were suffering from tropical ulcers on both legs with the tibia bones exposed.

The trip from the 105 camp back to the 55 kilo "hospital" for the group of helpless, near helpless and crippled, was horrifying. Many never remembered the appalling struggle that was to be their lot before they arrived at the sanctuary where mercy flowed from the overworked medical officers and volunteer orderlies. One of the greatest obstacles to recovery at that "hospital" was again the lack of food. Every week the Japs assessed the weight of the patients and correspondingly reduced the rice ration, as the weights dropped by virtue of deaths and the near death state of the survivors.

Tankie 11, although almost totally disabled, washed and waited on many incapable of helping themselves. Despite the protests of a large number he crawled from one to the other often in a vain attempt to cleanse bodies and wounds. It soon became apparent to the medical officers and their overworked orderlies that the little dark lad was himself being reduced to a state of physical exhaustion as he gallantly laboured on. His legs became so bad they became fly-blown and the odour from the gaping holes, knee to ankle, was almost overpowering.

Lieutenant Colonel Coates warned Tankie 11, although appreciative of his every effort to help others, the time had come when, in order to save his own life, he had to rest or loose a leg, if not both. He pleaded with the M.O. to be allowed to continue to help his mate, Max 11 Max. Despite the warning he had received and knowing the possible consequences if he persisted, Max 11 Max became his personal charge. Day after day, he would try to tend, cleanse and generally care for his mate of long-standing. Finally the day came when it became obvious one of his seriously infected legs had to be amputated to stem the onset of gas gangrene. The decision to do so and to tell Tankie 11 fell to the lot of Lieutenant Colonel Coates.

"Tankie 11", he said, "you know we have no drugs or medicines or even good food to help you boys. There is only one way we can medically care for you, and all, the others similarly affected, in order to save life. We must amputate; in your case it has to be your right leg. I must operate tomorrow".

"Max 11Max", said Tankie 11, "do you know what the M.O. just told me?"

"Yes", he replied, "I do Tankie 11. If you want to live and God knows I want you to, don't go against him, let him amputate. I'll be with you and look after you, when it's all over. I feel as upset as you, but what else can any doctor do. It's your leg or your life, it's as simple as that".

"Yes, I know, Max 11 Max, but to lose a leg is something I never dreamed would happen to me. But, amputation has saved the lives of many in this hut and I am willing to do anything that will get me home to Thelma and Mum".

The two mates talked long into the night and made plans to go into business together at Parramatta, near Sydney, when the war was over and they could get back to their families. It was near daylight when confidences ended and both fell into troubled sleep. During the morning an orderly shaved Tankie 11's leg that was to be taken off and cleansed and bandaged his other ulcered extremity. Good natured banter went on amongst the other not-so-well, but game boys. Offers of crutches and home-made walking sticks, when his stump recovered, made Tankie 11 realise he could depend on more than medical help.

When the time came for Tankie 11 to be taken to the "theatre" one of the bearers was his mate, Max 11 Max. Some thirty minutes prior to the move he had received an injection that was more a morale builder than an anaesthetic. But it gave Tankie 11 confidence that was shared by the many well-wishers who cheered him on his way. As he lay on the operating "table" his unmistakable, wide-open grin manifested itself and he patted his mates trembling hand. "It's alright", he said, "Max 11Max, I'll be a little lighter in a few minutes, but I'll be okay, so don't worry".

"I'll hang on to you, Tankie 11, and you grab my arms if you want to".

'The Colonel looked at his patient, smiled and said...."It'll soon be over, laddie, and we'll look after, you". Tankie 11 clenched his teeth and gave a brave smile as he replied, "It's okay....just make it quick".

As the scalpel made the first incision every fibre in Tankie's body quivered at the shock. "Hell , Max 11 Max, I can feel the knife. I'm on fire. Hold me tighter, tighter, please". His features paled as he squeezed hard on his mate's two arms. A tiny trickle of blood oozed through gritted teeth as that game, thin boy suffered extreme agony. But he neither screamed or squirmed. After the initial incision tremor he held himself together as only the most courageous possibly could. "God in heaven", prayed Max 11 Max, "please help him. Give me some pain to ease his suffering". As if in answer to the unspoken prayer the nails on Tankie's fingers bit deep into the skinny arms holding him down. It was as if they were sharing in another experience, as they had done so often in the nightmare months behind them. "Be brave, Max 11 Max", he said, just as if it was his mate's leg that was now nearly amputated instead of his own.

As the sterilized carpenter's saw cut through the large shin bone and the plumber's snips separated the smaller one, both Tankie 11 and Max 11 Max heaved convulsive sighs. Magically all sense of pain disappeared from the face of the surgeon's patient even though the movement of the needle and thread must've hurt, as the skin covering the raw stump was drawn swiftly together. As the tying of the bandages indicated the operation was over, Lieutenant Colonel Coates passed a hand over the perspiring brow of the now smiling Tankie 11, saying, "I knew you could take it, Tankie 11. The rest is now up to you and providence, but I'll do my best to help both". With a wave of his hand he was gone. Tankie's smile had been thanks enough for the very humane surgeon whose only thought was to save as many lives as possible even though the instruments he used were mostly those made for tradesmen, not surgeons.

What Tankie 11 and the other suffering lads did not know was, that the former Melbourne Specialist, the man who almost played "God" in that jungle "hospital", felt deeply and keenly his inability to practice medicine in the manner he had been trained. Neither did they know, how he and his assistant medical officers fought the Japanese to procure not only drugs, medicines, instruments and food, but also treatment of the sick and injured as humanity expected. But, all the pleas and demands met not only walls of silence, but on many occasions hurtful physical violence.

Tankie's return to his bamboo hut was a triumph! He was given a "sit-up" reception from the other amputees. They all knew what he had gone through and knew, too, what Hell on earth really meant....an amputation without a real anaesthetic. Willing hands were outstretched as Tankie 11 was taken from the stretcher and carried to his space at the back of the hut. He was gently laid onto a rice sack and his stump made as comfortable as possible. Two of his 2/30 Battalion mates came to cheer him up. One, Ron (Popeye) Kentwell, who was recovering from what was thought to be a fatal cholera attack back at the 75 kilo camp, arrived with some rice "coffee". Arnold Ainsworth, himself a sufferer of various ailments, bobbed up with what, Tankie 11 said, was another gift from Heaven, a cigarette made from "boong" tobacco wrapped in something resembling paper.

A slug of the black liquid in the bamboo cup and a draw on the fag, that smelled like dung on fire, brought a satisfied smile to the face of the game little former glassblower turned soldier. "Hey, Arnie", he said, "where did you cop this weed?, it's sure powerful. Between that and the coffee I feel a million dollars".

"What!" replied. Arnie, "tell you and the rest of the blokes around you and I lose my source of supply".

"Tankie 11", called Joe Noble, another Unit mate and himself an amputee, "Arnie scrounged that smelly concoction from the elephant heap in the jungle at the edge of the camp". "Don't care", said Tankie 11, "It's just what I needed and I couldn't care less, where it comes from. Thanks, Arnie".

For the next couple of hours good natured banter flowed back and forth, until they could all see the reaction was setting in on Tankie 11. Gradually the talking and loud whispers decreased and everyone hoped the night would pass without the "little dark lad" undergoing too much pain. Throughout the long hours of the night Max 11 Max sat beside his little mate tending his every need. The small serving of rice that had been given Tankie 11 for his evening meal lay untouched beside his bed; he just could not face the thought of eating anything. In the early hours of the morning a furtive figure crawled over to Tankie's bed. It was Arnie Ainsworth. In his hand he held a steaming pannikin. He asked Max 11 Max if Tankie 11 was awake. At the sound of his voice Tankie 11 raised his hand and said, "Yes, I am. Got another smoke Arnie?".

"No Tankie 11", he replied, "Got something better this time. The boys in the Jap kitchen pinched a bit of their yak meat and made you some broth. Get it into you, it smells good". Silently, but gratefully, Tankie 11 took the pannikin and downed the contents almost in one gulp. "Arnie", he said, "what can I say? That was something out of .this world". "Say nothing, Tankie 11. The fact that you enjoyed it is all the thanks boys in the kitchen want. Now try to get some sleep." The soothing tones of Arnie's voice had a remarkable effect. Tankie 11 had drifted off to dreamland almost before his kindly visitor had disappeared into the night. Max 11 Max covered the sleeping figure as best he could, watched for a while, then fell asleep himself.

Not long after daybreak Colonel Coates was at Tankie's side checking the bandage on his stump. "Did you sleep well, laddie?" he asked. Tankie 11 swallowed quickly, looked him straight in the eye and replied...."Yes, Sir, had a good night and a bit to eat". From that day on a regular pattern was set. Max 11 Max, whose ulcered legs began to improve, became the personal attendant to not only his mate, Tankie 11, but to all the amputees bunked together at one end of the hut. He took over the task not only intent on saving the life of Tankie 11, but the whole thirty, now minus part of a limb. It was obvious, however, he gave that little extra attention to his mate that called for a little bit of chiding from a few of the others. But, unknown to them, he had a deep and penetrating reason. He knew from what Colonel Coates had told him, and Arnie Ainsworth as well, that it would be a miracle if Tankie 11 lived!

For nearly a month everyone in the "ward" believed the "little dark boy" was on the improve. He was as ever cheerful and in the early hours of the night he would plan with Max 11 Max, the radio shop they would have once the war was over and they were back home in Australia. So sanguine was Tankie 11 that his dreams and visions of a future in business were certainties, he had decided to get the controls of his Buick car altered to permit him driving it with ease and safety. He even went as far as discussing such a possibility with Colonel Coates, who visited the "leggies" daily, and expressed such a determination as to amaze the medico and those, who would willingly discuss all the aspects with him. It was after rounds on the morning of the 23rd October, 1043, that Colonel Coates suggested to Max 11 Max he walk to the "theatre" with him. As they sat on the bamboo stools the Colonel pulled his tobaccoless pipe from his mouth, and dropped his "Bombshell".

“Max 11Max", he said, "I know how attached you are to your little dark mate and I hate to have to tell you, all our efforts to save his life have been in vain. Have you got anything at all you can do a trade with the Burmese? If you have", get him as many bananas and eggs, that you can. Give him everything possible. He has just one month to live. The beri-beri has beaten us and his abdomen is starting to swell with the built-up fluid". For a few moments Max 11 Max sat as if stunned, then exploded..... "But, Sir, he, looks so well, and we have made so many plans for the future. I will work harder, do any at all to help. Yes, I'll trade my few possessions to get him all the food the traders will give me. I'll go out to-night.

The Colonel pondered for a few pregnant minutes, looked up and said...."You know quite well, Max 11 Max, I cannot countenance you going outside the confines of the camp. If you are caught you are well aware of the penalty and no-one, and I mean no-one, can save you from a firing squad. However, if you feel there is some way of getting eggs & bananas for that courageous little bloke, do your best". When Max 11 Max returned to the ward Tankie 11 called to him and said...."Why the grim look, mate. Anything wrong with you?"

"No, Tankie 11, nothing out of the ordinary with me, but I have got an idea. I've still got the dagger I brought from Changi and the pen and pencil. I have managed to hide them for an emergency and I think the time has arrived when I should get rid of the lot before the Nips next search. The Colonel tipped me off another one is due at any time. To-night I am going to try and find a trader and swap them, for some eggs and fruit. You and the other chaps need a bit of building up. This I reckon, is the emergency. So tomorrow you may have a slight change of diet."

"No, Max 11 Max", said Tankie 11. "Suppose you get caught. Remember what happened to the three boys at Mergui, and the other lot at Tavoy. It's not worth it. Throw the lot down the loo. None of us want you to run such a risk. Forget it; we have survived so far on rice, surely we can hang on a bit longer. Don't do it, mate, for my sake". All that day as Max 11 Max went amongst the amputees, washing, cleaning beds and feeding; doing all the little jobs that helped to make life easier for those unable to help themselves; his brain felt as if it was lead. It seemed impossible the impish Tankie 11 had so little time left. Why Tankie 11, the boy who loved life, adored his wife and wanted so much to get back home? But, there was no answer to the nagging question; his little mate was dying. Yes dying, and there was nothing, nothing anyone could do except get some eggs and bananas. Well, tonight, Tankie 11, you will get them, no matter what!

As far as Max 11 Max knew there wasn't a Village within miles of the "hospital" camp, stuck out in a cleared spot in the jungle, so where was he to go to keep faith with his intention to trade trinkets for food? Another worrying factor was the tropical ulcer on his left leg was still discharging as was the one on his right lower leg, the latter to a lesser extent. But, his movements were restricted and he would have to tread warily in the dense darkness for many reasons. It was bad enough to get through the jungle in daylight following animal tracks, but in the night hours it would be many times more difficult, especially as he did not know where he was going or how it would be possible to recognise a trader from a bounty hunting Burmese. And, there was the risk his legs could 'be jagged on jutting tree growth.

All in all, he had problems.,.., but paramount in his mind were the words of Colonel Coates...."get your little dark mate some eggs and bananas....he will die one month from now. Give him everything you can".

"Give him everything you can........" the words rang in his head. Yes, he would, but how?" All he had to trade with, if he found a trader, was a home made dagger, a fountain pen and pencil. How many eggs and bananas would he get for those few things? Perhaps his conversation with Tankie 11 that morning had been heard by others. It would not have been too hard for anyone wanting to listen or to even catch a word or two in a disinterested way. But, by late afternoon his attention was drawn to something that looked unusual on his bed space; sure enough something was there, as he was soon to find out.

A couple of flintless cigarette lighters, a wristlet watch, some foreign coins, silver and copper, plus a solid silver cigarette case with the name "Reginald Greenham" engraved on the inside of the lid. The latter startled him a little as his mother was a Greenham prior to marrying his dad. Was this lad here now? If so, had he found a relative this out-of-the-way spot so far removed from Australia. Yes, he had; Reginald Greenham who enjoyed the nickname of. "Crow" was, as many others were, a victim of a fierce tropical ulcer and flat on his back in another hut. There these two cousins met for the very first time and both suffering from more or less identical ailments.

"How come", he asked Reg, "that you sent your cigarette case around to me?" “Well he answered, I heard you knew a trader and you were going out to get fruit and possibly some eggs for the leggies. A few of the boys slung in what they could to help you. Is it true you have a little mate that's on his way out?" "Yes, it is. We have been cobbers since Wallgrove days back in 1940. He has lost a leg, now has beri-beri and just another few weeks of life. It is for his sake mainly, I am going to try and find a friendly Burmese who has food to sell".

"Good God man. Do you mean to say that you have never been outside and you are going out just on chance? That's plain madness. Where will you go……what direction……what about the guards? You might just as well give yourself up now for that's about where you will end up. I'd say forget the whole idea otherwise you will die .from lead poisoning". "I'll risk it", he replied, "Tankie 11 needs eggs and bananas and, if they are available, he's going to get them".

Just before darkness closed in, a lanky lad, who said he hailed from "Cockneyland" came looking for Max 11 Max, who, at that moment, was tending Tankie 11. He looked up when he heard his name called and wondered what the barefooted, "G-string" robed Englishman wanted of him. Surely he thought, not another seeking a trade. If the whole camp knows his plans, it's possible the guards know, too. It was with some trepidation he went to the caller to ask him what it was he wanted. As it turned out the "Cockney", as he called himself, wasn't after any favour at all, it was the other way round. He was a TRADER and knew his way to a small cluster of huts some three or four miles from the camp. He told Max 11 Max it was sheer stupidity to go out at night, as it would be impossible to see a hand in front of him. He said he knew the exact times the guards passed the point, where he entered the jungle and it did not take him long to get to the meeting place. So, if he wanted eggs and bananas, and he had something to do a bit of bartering with, he would do it for him the next day and be back about noon.

As Max 11 Max had never met up with him before, although in the same camp, he was still a little wary of a complete stranger, who offered to put himself at risk with no apparent gain. However, he was soon put at ease, when he told him, who had sent him and why. True to his word the game little Cockney arrived back the following day with a few dozen duck eggs and two large hands of bananas. The eggs went to the kitchen and were eventually fed to the most seriously ill in the amputee group. The bananas were mixed in with the plain rice, the only food (and little of that, as the Japanese ruled "sick mans don't eat"), which gave the meagre ration a taste the sick lads had not experienced since becoming prisoners-of-war.

Tankie 11 was overjoyed at receiving the unexpected delicacies which appeared to put new life and strength into him. But, as the days rolled on and many bed spaces became empty he began to get curious as to why the "Last Post" seemed to sound so regularly. In the first week of September, Bert Farr, who, with Arnold Ainsworth and Ronnie Kentwell regularly visited Tankie 11, expressed concern at his listlessness and his abdominal swelling. (Within a couple of days the change had been rapid and some put it down to the fact that no more eggs or bananas were available). However Colonel Coates told Max 11 Max it was the beginning of the end and he would have good and bad lapses before he finally passed on. He was to be humoured and helped in every way possible. But medically, treatment was at an end, due to the refusal of the Japanese to supply drugs and medicines. The cooks did a remarkable job in the kitchens, (one for the guard personnel and the other for the sick prisoners) with what they scrounged!

The ulcers on the legs of Max 11 Max were beginning to worsen as he had missed a few treatments of the "spoon" (a curette used by gynaecologists), a treatment that brought screams from many throats long before the M.O. neared their position in the long pain-wracked line. The scraping of metal along the exposed, weeping gash, and under it, caused agony better imagined than endured. A few of those unable to take the spoon still "rest" in jungle camps. But, despite the suffering the cleaning "spoon" caused, it did in many cases save lives. And of the ulcer riddled patients, who did take it, many were thankful Colonel Coates acquired it. There was no question, without that treatment the greater number would have lost limbs.

Night after night, as Tankie's condition deteriorated, Arnie Ainsworth would arrive with broth made from meat supplied to the guards, that "somehow" found its way into the other kitchen. His liaison with those in the two cook houses resulted in many a very ill lad receiving tiny pieces of yak meat destined, in the first place, for the gourmet guards. In the early hours of the morning of the 13th September, 1943, Max 11 Max was awakened by a strange dream about Tankie 11. He immediately rose and went to see if he was resting or in pain. In the dream, which seemed so real, he could see his mate frantically trying to call someone. As he bent over his mate's bed Tankie 11 looked up, and said.... "I knew you would get here in time, but you will have to be quick".

"Yes, Tankie 11", he replied, "what do you want me to do?"

"Get to a phone as fast as you can. You must contact Churchill. The enemy will attack at dawn. This is the number you must ring 55172 (his own regimental number) now go, it will soon be time. Tell him I have despatches hidden. Hurry, Max 11 Max, or you will be too late".

For a moment Max 11 Max hesitated until he remembered the words of Colonel Coates..."humour and help him". Obediently he moved away and stood pondering for a few minutes in the dark. When he returned, Tankie 11 was in an excited state, and was babbling on unintelligently. Suddenly he calmed down, apparently saw Max 11 Max in the half light and quickly interrogated him, as to what message, if any, he had given to the British Prime Minister.

"Did you speak to him personally?"
"Yes, Tankie 11, I did".
"What number did you ring?"
"Number", replied Max 11 Max. "The one you told me".
"Yes, yes" said Tankie 11, "but what was it?"
"Oh", replied Max 11 Max, "55172" (That was lucky, thought Max 11 Max. Good job I knew it).
"Ah, good. You did remember it after all. I thought you may have forgotten".

With that an apparently satisfied Tankie 11 lapsed into what appeared to be sleep. Max 11 Max lay alongside him hoping and praying a miracle would happen and he would recover. Maybe, he thought, the Japs will come up with the drugs and the life of the unselfish little lad, and the lives of all the others similarly affected, would not be forfeited. Just after dawn the camp came to life and Max 11 Max quietly moved away to wash and prepare for the usual hard day ahead. He had hardly moved a few steps when he heard a cheerful voice call out, "Morning , Max 11 Max, where are you going?" It was the smiling face of his mate he saw, as he turned to return the greeting. He received such a shock he could hardly believe his eyes. There was Tankie 11 as he had nearly always known him. His wide open grin suggested, he was as well as anyone could be, who was now minus a leg. But, wondered Max 11 Max, was this a good or bad sign?

"Max 11Max", he called, "I'm so hungry I could eat one of Frank McGrath's (a Randwick, Sydney, trainer) neddies. How about some bacon and eggs?"

"Coming up", replied the incredulous Max 11 Max. "Sunny side up for the googs?"

"Crikey", said Tankie 11, "for one funny moment I thought you really meant it. Never mind, on our first morning home we'll have oodles of it. If there is one thing Thelly can do, it is cook. Bacon and eggs! Even the thought of it makes me drool. Okay, I'll settle for pap once more".

But that morning was to be different. Along with the watered down rice ration came a tiny square of yak meat. It was a treat, organised by the ever helpful cooks, who had purloined it especially for the lads soon due to go "beyond the sunset". The look on the pale faces of the recipients was enough to warm the heart of the most callous. The wet cheeks told their own stories. And, those dampened countenances appeared general throughout the "leggies" ward. Unfortunately and before that morning was to be much older, three bed spaces became vacant. The significance of those empty spots did not escape all eyes. Some envied, and openly stated their intention to join the silent ones, that almost daily were taken to a small hut at the rear of where the amputees were bedded down.

Late in the afternoon the sound of the "Last Post" signalled the earthly farewell to more lads, who but a couple of years earlier, had laughingly donned the uniform of the Australian Imperial Forces. They left behind many saddened mates, who realised perhaps one day, soon, that bugler would so honour them. Death in that camp was never far away. On and off for the next seven days Tankie 11 had his good and bad days. Sometimes he cracked jokes with the other amputees, two of whom - Joe Noble and Jim Mitchell - came from the 2/30 Battalion. However, on the 20th September, 1943 the swelling of his abdomen began to cause him a great deal of distress and, for the first time during this latter illness, he began to have doubts as to his future.

Colonel Coates gave him a very exhaustive examination later that day and Tankie 11 asked him what could be done to ease his abdominal pain. "I am sorry, laddie" he replied "but we lack the drugs that could dry up the fluid and we can only depend on nature to help us with this type of problem!" There was a look of sadness on Tankie's face as he watched the M.O. walk away. No doubt his mind was troubled knowing that only nature could take away not only the pain, but the swelling that made him feel cumbersome and uncomfortable. He had a pleading look on his face as he gazed questioningly at Max 11 Max who was fussing over and around him. He submitted to the body sponging and stump cleansing without protest, even though Max 11 Max knew, no matter how tenderly he handled the skin and bone badly swollen boy, he would hurt him. His heart was very heavy as he brushed imaginary crumbs from the rice bag that was Tankie's mattress.

"Thanks, Max 11 Max" said the stricken, brave boy as the ministrations finished and his "orderly" gently stroked his fevered forehead. "Don't know what I'd do without you, but I appreciate everything you do. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes", replied Max 11 Max. "You are a wonderful patient, Tankie 11, and I will do anything in the world to help and comfort you. We've been mates for a long, long time and I will never leave you no matter where they send us. God knows where we will end up, but wherever it is, I'll be with you all the way."

"You mean that don't you Max 11 Max? I am going to get over my troubles and soon I will be able to get about with one of those "Dixon" crutches. Other "leggies." have had beri-beri like I have and are now getting around quite good. I've beaten the ulcers, and I'll beat this too". (Sapper Dixon made crutches from bamboo poles).

In his heart Max 11 Max KNEW Tankie 11 had but days at the most to live, but he clung desperately to the wild hope that something, it didn't matter what, would save his little mate's life. As he talked to Tankie 11 he tried his utmost to instil in his mind the belief expressed by the Padre that there was "someone" up "there" who could and would heal the sick and crippled. That belief would surely help the former little glassblower to grasp the will to live.

Grasp the will to live! Was it a vain hope? So many had let go all beliefs and "willed" themselves to die, and they did. Max 11 Max did not want Tankie 11 to lose hope, he wanted him to hang on to even the slimmest hope. He prayed hard that providence would intervene and save the life of the little lad he had grown so very fond of. The one who had exhibited a fortitude far beyond his physical strength.

For the next two days and nights Tankie 11 hovered between life and death. At times his mind was alert and he spoke feelingly of his wife, Thelma, the "queen" of his heart, his beloved Mother, Brothers George, Sid and Jim. He wanted Max 11 Max to meet and know and mix with them. Near midnight of the 22nd September, 1943, he took hold of the right hand of Max 11 Max, pressed it and said, "I'm going home, Max 11 Max, you don't mind do you? I'll be waiting for you, as we have so much to do together. I'm so very tired and must rest. Tell Thelma and Mum I loved them and will do so until we meet again. It's good-bye now, Max 11 Max, I've got to go".

With a deep sigh he settled down, as if in a deep sleep, for a moment it appeared as if he was going. Max 11 Max felt his pulse, found it and hung on as the beat was weak, but it was there! Hour after hour the two mates were together, one with a frail grip on life……the other silently praying, if the other had to go "beyond the sunset", he would commence the journey without further pain or suffering. At times the slim body lying on the bamboo slat bed would sigh, as if a great peace was within his soul. In the dim light of the early morning Max 11 Max could discern a happy look on the face of the lad now in tranquil repose. It was, as if "something" had come to him, and he was ready!

Daylight dawned and for a moment Tankie 11 opened his eyes, felt for and grasped a small tin, placed it on his forehead and, in a hesitating voice, spoke one word....it was, "Max 11Max". He was never to speak again. As he lapsed back into unconsciousness two tears dropped down his wan cheeks and his breathing became laboured. Max 11 Max, fearing the worst, felt for the pulse beat, that had continued beating weakly for many hours past.

At that moment three silent figures came to where Tankie 11 lay. They were his 2/30 Battalion comrades in arms, Bert Farr, Arnold Ainsworth and Ron Kentwell. As they looked upon the hardly breathing form of little Tankie 11, they, too, knew God was calling him HOME! At a little after 4,30 that afternoon, during a tropical downpour, the body of the game little Clarrie (Tankie) Phillips, was laid to rest in the prisoner-of-war cemetery at the 55 kilo "hospital" camp, Burma. As the notes of the LAST POST sounded, a sorrowing group paid their last respects to one of the most beloved soldiers to leave the shores of Australia; the boy who stood ten feet high, the one they called "TANKIE".

THE END

(Source: 2/30 Battalion Archives - "Max" is NX55561 - Sgt. Leslie Gordon (Les) HALL)

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Last updated 24/08/2022