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NX77799 - BUSINE, Sydney Herbert Thomas, Pte.
Recollections and
Reflections of Tommy - by Les Hall My
first sighting of Sidney Herbert Thomas Busine was many years
ago, over 52, give or take a month or two, it was way back in
the latter end of 1943 when he hobbled towards Clarrie ('Tankie')
Phillips and myself at the diseases besotted camp of well over
1,000 POWs of various nationalities Australian, British,
Indonesian, American and those who called themselves Javanese, a
mixture of white Dutch and the darker in colour Indians.
The place, 55 kilo alleged hospital camp. Burma.
The year, 1943. About the only real
difference between the two boys was the colour of skin, Tommy, a
tropical brown, 'Tankie' son of a dark-skinned father and an
Australian mother, in height and weight about equal, both had
hearts as big as Phar Lap, a horse of great fame, dogged and
determined to win despite all odds, those two boys with a
similar disposition, nothing was going to beat them. Gameness
was their middle names and they were well known to Colonel
Albert Coates, Chief Medical Officer, 'A' Force, who appeared to
pay marked attention to both. Told me one day………."if only for
their skin colour those two could pass for twins. Same ailments,
same outlook and attitude to their health state. Something about
them that intrigues me, they are always so chirpy, real sporting
type, same goals. Hate to tell you, neither will win their
wager. They each have about one month to live. Get them some
eggs and bananas, they need them." The
last bit spoken in a manner suggesting I only had to go to a
'shop' nearby to obtain the prescribed 'goodies'. In the middle
of a Burmese jungle, no shops, as far as I was aware, anywhere
near the bamboo and attap roofed buildings. And, no money or
possessions. If I could find a trader what am I to offer in
exchange. From out of 'nowhere' many
trinkets littered my bedspace by that afternoon. I was
bewildered, where and in what direction was I to take. It so
happened I was concerned for no reason. Nearing dusk a 'cockney'
came to me, he had all the answers, said he could do it and,
what is more, he DID! Next day they ate well, eggs and bananas,
a dream come true. They and others gorged on the provender.
Sad to say, it all came to an end 20th and 23rd
of September, 1943. They now rest at and in Thanbyuzayat 'war'
cemetery, Burma. The years sped by and
few thought very much about past events in the Far East, work
was not too easy to get, widowed Rheita Busine had remarried and
her second husband, Herbert Thomas, was a mill-man with The
Goodyear Tyre and Rubber Company, Granville. I, too, an employee
of the same employer, neither of us aware we were to be linked
in some strange way in the near future. It all happened
suddenly. A phone call one night from Alex Dandle, a good mate
from army days, both had been in the 2/30th Battalion,
Headquarter Company, and quite often they contacted each other
on some topic of interest one to the other. On that particular
night Alex had a question he wanted answered, quite casually he
said, "Oh, by the way, did you ever meet up with a chap named
BUSINE on 'A' Force?" “Yes, Tommy,
couldn't miss him, he had a full dook regimental number. Why the
question, Alex?" “Just an enquiry, you
said Tommy, his full name, Sidney Herbert Thomas"
"Don’t know about the front bits, we called him
Tommy" “Tommy, eh". After a short
conversation he hung up and I thought no more about it until the
phone rang again and I heard a voice say, "I believe you knew my
father" “What was his name, Busine,
rhymes with kerosene". "You may have
called him Busine, like in design"
"Tommy, yes, that is him. May I come over and talk to you?"
“Certainly, I am home all day."
It was the beginning, so long ago now I cannot
recall when but It did not matter as the very next day a lad so
unlike his clad structure, taller, stouter (Tommy, of course,
was a victim of many ailments one, perhaps the main, he like all
of us, was starving, fat as a match with the wood scraped off)
so unlike the well-built boy who stared at me so intently. In a
way, both sort of sizing one another off. At first I was
somewhat wary as so many had been to see me and in no way was I
going to say anything that may hurt this very attentive, sincere
son of a wonderful man I knew his Dad to be. I suppose it could
be said we were sparring for time. Glady, my beloved wife noting
the air of, as she later described, somewhat sensitive soon had
a tray of refreshments to ease the situation.
Jimmy, however, was not too interested in food,
what he wanted was of a different kind, news of his dad from
someone who not only knew him but actually had looked after him
and was with him as his deflated chest indicated he was in
another 'home'. Later, I did tell him his unknown-to-him father
had left this world with a song on his lips, 'The Les Darcy’
song. The hours passed like minutes and
still the intently listening lad found more and more questions
to ask. I did not mind as by the last hour had arrived I was
well aware this near-to-emotion boy was different to many who
had been there before him. I believed his apparent sincerity was
not assumed, he really wanted to know not just a few things, he
wanted the lot. I gave him all I knew. Proved to him the letter
from the Army informing his mother her husband had died and was
interred in Thailand was quite wrong, he was resting in Burma.
(This was later confirmed when I contacted The War Graves
Commission). I knew that day Jimmy had already made up his mind
to visit the new 'home' where his unknown (to him) male parent
was sleeping. Jimmy followed up his
visit to me by combing records held by the Repatriation
Department. The staff there gave him all the assistance within
their possession. In a way, substantiating my version. He never
left a stone unturned as he prepared for his trip to Burma. It
was a case of a crash course in overcoming red tape.
Somehow or another he managed to move mountains
to gain his goal and he actually sat beside the grave of the
father he never knew but felt so with him as he sat in reverent
silence in that Hallowed atmosphere. In spirit he came to know
his unseen father. In himself he felt his pilgrimage was
justified, the battle to gain entry into a land so far away from
home and to where he and his dad communed as one.
In the time allowed him he photographed the
graves of every 2/30th Battalion member eternal abode. In doing
so he brought a great deal of happiness and a felling of content
to grieving families, something never expected.
In one instance, the photo sent to Florence
Bennie (nee Bayliss) taken by Jim resulted in a determination by
Florence to emulate the joy felt by the parent hungry lad and
visit, If possible, Thanbuyazat and pay homage to her late
husband, where he now, with his many comrades.....rest. A
pilgrimage was arranged and the party arrived in Rangoon in
1988, only to be informed their mission had to fail owing to the
disturbing military uprising. The great
shock to all concerned had to be experienced to be really felt,
it was a frightful let-down, one that can never be forgotten.
The great yearning to be with a loved one was shattered in one
brief swish of a pen as the dreaded word cancelled was committed
to essential papers. The great joy of
expectation so expressed by each pilgrim was crushed in an
instant as the Army Junta brooked no defiance of the cruel rule
ruined all hope of a change of heart. Hope was dispelled despite
the persistence of The Australian Embassy to of obtain clemency
was brushed aside. The broken hearts held no significance to the
Iron-clad rule, akin to the Berlin Wall, impenetrable. The
saddened party felt dried of feeling after getting so close only
to find the ramparts against them.
Normally, once a family heard from a survivor, friendship became
one of a desultory nature. The occasional 'phone call, a card
now and again but that was/is all. Not so with the Busine family
or Florence. The bond of friendship founded so MANY YEARS AGO
STANDS AS FIRM TODAY AS IT WAS AT THE BEGINNING. The constancy
of communication has remained .....is as fresh as if it all
happened in recent times. The great
degree of friendship was never more EXEMPLIFIED when my now
deceased and devoted wife was a patient in Cheshalon Nursing
Home, North Manly. They travelled many miles from their
respective homes to spend time, time so greatly valued by both
of us, to give cheer to what we now know, was close to the end
of her life. It was acts of that nature
that was proof of their sincerity, compassion was their driving
force they gave so willingly to a very appreciative, stricken
elderly lady to whom they waved the wand of friendship and love.
The significance of similar acts towards me can never be
forgotten. Now in the twilight of my life their never failing
display of a lasting friendship is proof-positive their
sincerity is in no way assumed but is practiced.
In recent weeks I have thought a lot about the
past, reminders keep cropping up, particularly so since the
arrival in this village of one John Wade a former POW with ‘A’
Force. He and his brother were at the 55 kilo camp for only a
short time, enough, John told me, to realise death was an ever
present spectre and they were both pleased to get out and back
to the perils of rail-laying a sometimes 30 hours stint with
perhaps just one small ration of plain rice.
Neither of them knew my two little mates who
fought so hard against adversity only to lose out at a time they
believed it was close to war's end. It came to the two of them
all too soon and dreams of a future filled with family love and
enhanced employment were just that, impossible dreams.
The whole ‘leggie’ hut was stunned when at first
Tommy went with a song, then just three days later 'Tankie', pet
of the 'sigs' drew his last breath in that aura of pestilence,
Nagatom’s alleged 'hospital', the 55 kilo camp, Burma.
As I face up to my 91st year I do so in the full
knowledge I have a family filled with a gift of goodness for the
living and loving memories for those who have gone before them,
a loving mother and her 2nd devoted sons, Sidney Herbert Thomas,
who made the supreme sacrifice in defence of his country.
They are together now and patiently awaiting the
arrival (when the tall man with the scythe considers their time
has come) of those they left behind. High up in the sky where
there are no wars or a breakdown in togetherness, just love
filled families with whom they will abide eternally.
February 1995
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Last updated
31/08/2021 |
