SEJARAH NORTH BORNEO SABAH
SPECIAL EDITION
WORLD WAR TWO SERIES
Jemadhar Ojagar Singh was one of those who were involved in
helping eight Australian Prisoners of War to escape from Berhala Island as he
was the man in charge of the police department at Berhala. He was a fund
contributor and involved in the mapping of the escape routes. The Sandakan
Underground network was destroyed in September 1943 by the Japanese. Ojagar was
arrested brutally and mercilessly tortured with broken jaw and shattered elbow.
He was transferred to Kuching and was put on trial on the 29th February 1944.
He was executed on the 2nd March 1944.
This is a story written by the son of Jemadhar Ojagar Singh
during and the aftermath of his father's arrest and Execution moving forward .
A story of a family's perseverance and determination despite
extreme suffering, struggles and survival after the second world war.
"AS WE GREW UP WE SELDOM TALKED ABOUT IT"
by ANUP SINGH, SON OF JEMADAR OJAGAR SINGH
My father, Jemadar Ojagar Singh house was on top of a hill
near the Police Headquarters. From there he could see what was happening out at
the sea and on the Island of Berhala. Ojagar's contact for planning the escape
of Australian POWs from Berhala was Sergeant Korom an indigenous group of a
Murut from Pensiangan.
One night in 1943, Japanese soldiers came and took my father
Ojagar with them. The family waited not knowing what was happening. Ojagar and
the Japanese returned a few days later. The Japanese collected the messages
from Berhala which were hidden in the chicken coop, they knew where to find them.
My mother was not allowed to visit my father and it was only
through loyal police friends that she could find out anything about him.
Ojagar's blood and pus soaked clothes were frequently sent to my mother for
washing. She would pray with tears rolling down her eyes while washing his
cloths. My mother told her sister in law, Harnam Kaur also known as Bibi
Mangala, that she could "hear" her husband calling to tell her that
he would die and that she should look after the children.
When the Japanese decided to move the local prisoners of the
Sandakan underground movement members to Kuching, the family found out from
their loyal police friends. Our family and the families of the other prisoners
gathered at the oval to catch a last glimpse of their love ones. Two roads led
from the Police Headquarters around the oval. The families were told which road
was to be taken.
The lorry appeared, the blinds along its sides were closed
and it took the other road. There was no final glimpse.
My mother gave birth to my youngest sister two months after
my father Ojagar was shipped to Kuching where he was sentenced to death and
executed. The eldest child in the family was Hercharan, my brother also known
as Charni who was only 14 plus at the time. The other family members according
to seniority were Harbans Kaur @ Banso, Tantop Kaur, Hercharan Singh @ Charni,
Gurcharan Singh @ Biba, Sardul Singh, Anup Singh (myself), Swaran Kaur @
Suarni, Ninder Kaur and the new born girl. The two older sisters were in India
as it was customary to send daughters of marriageable age back to India.
Hercharan took on the role of the head of the family. He had
some knowledge of the Japanese language and worked for a while as translator
for the Japs. He also became a small time fishmonger. He bought food after
making a profit from the sale of fish and selling coconut oil produced by the
family. Fortunately, after my father was taken the family was left alone by the
Japs. Nevertheless it seemed foolish to hang around, no one could be sure that
the Japanese would not take revenge on the family. Many members of the Sikh
community rallied around to help us. We moved to an empty house of a Sikh at
Mile 1 1/2 Labuk Road near a stream where Hercharan and the rest of us caught
fish, shrimps and planted vegetables. We sold the oil which we made from
coconuts.
My mother's brother, Sergeant Dial Singh Sandhu, together
with his wife Harnam and two young sons, Balbir Singh and Karam Singh, came
from Lahad Datu by ship to fetch us from Sandakan down to Lahad Datu.
We loaded all our belongings onto the ship but we were not
allowed by the Jap authority to board for unknown reasons. My uncle was allowed
to board alone and left both his and my family behind.
Seven months later, in 1944, my uncle came back. He brought
along eight porters to assist us on the journey back to Lahad Datu through the
jungle.
Sergeant Dial Singh took us and we moved at night by sampan
across Sandakan Bay then we walked until we reached the Segama River where we
took two boats. Sergeant Singh knew people along the route and these people
remained very loyal.
The trip was very adventurous. My uncle was a seasoned
jungle tracker. I remember he walked ahead of the group and occasionally spread
his hands outstretched to warn us to halt because of dangers ahead such as
unknown people or herds of elephants. Once we had to lie low for half an hour
until the herd went away. Although I was only a small boy of five years, I
still had to walk like the others. My uncle knew I loved fishing, so he tricked
me by telling me that up ahead was always a better fishing ground. That kept me
going.
At Bikang Village along the Segama River bank we stayed with
the village headman for a few days. The river boat ride was dangerous because
we could see many riverine crocodiles in the water and on the bank waiting to
strike. The boat man had to throw burning into the water to frighten the
crocodiles. It rained non-stop and the flood water was rising. The boat man
said that it was bad luck to have dogs in the boat, but as we had already had
them with us we tolerated their presence.
One night we had to set up camp on a high ground river
island surrounded by water with many trapped wild animals, snakes and
crocodiles.We had to keep vigil by keeping the fire burning the whole night.
From the Segama River we walked towards Lahad Datu on foot along the road and
tracks in knee-deep flood water for about two miles. The journey from the
Segama River to Lahad Datu was about ten miles. And the further journey to
Tengahnipa was another three miles.
When we reached Lahad Datu we went straight to Fauja Singh's
plantation house at Tengahnipa Plantation and stayed there for about one
month.Fauja Singh is the husband of Bibi Chand Kaur, who is the cousin of my
uncle's wife. My uncle's family, his wife and two young sons Balbir Singh and
Karam Singh, were also staying with the family. My youngest baby sister died of
malnutrition overcome by disease at Tengahnipa.
Thereafter, we all moved to my uncle's 20 acre private land
at a place called Saratus Ekar, where a hut with a huge tall-roofed chimney was
already built. Allied planes made frequent swoops on the house, probably
suspecting it to be a Japanese transmitting outpost. Therefore, I, my elder
brother, Hercharan, and uncle dismantled the roof of the chimney to let the
smoke out. Thereafter, there was no more disturbance.
Once together we stayed hidden in the jungle. We planted
vegetables, ate bananas and ubi kayu (tapioca],caught whatever we could from
streams. We got salt from seawater but never saw rice.
Sergeant Dial Singh continued to work at the Police Station
at Lahad Datu. He found out that the Japanese planned to kill him so Sergeant Singh
was forced to abandon the family. He fled deeper into the jungle. The Japanese
intention was motivated by the treachery of Sergeant S-Moi (a fictitious name),
a local from Keningau who was appointed a Kempeitai [Jap secret police] who
reported Dial Singh's secret meeting with the Americans from the Philippines who frequented Lahad Datu's coast in a submarine on intelligence
reconnaissance.
How Sergeant S-moi lodged the report was very interesting
and cunning. He pretended to be sick and wrote a supposed leave application
letter to the chief kempeitai and gave the sealed letter to Sergeant Dial Singh
to deliver to the chief. Singh, who was suspicious of S Moi, opened the letter
containing the report along the way and discovered the treachery. Sergent S Moi
expected Singh to be arrested immediately upon delivery of the letter. But
Singh destroyed the letter and proceeded to work as usual as if nothing had
happened, then he escaped into the forest after working hours.
By now Hercharan was very sick so our mother had to do most
of all the work. Deprived of proper food the younger girls suffered from beri
beri and were very sick due to a lack of medicine. Unfortunately, when the
family accidentally ate poisonous mushrooms the two younger girls succumbed to
it due to their already weakened state. Except for my uncle who was not home
and I who did not eat the mushrooms, everybody else almost died that day. When
my uncle came home he discovered that the whole mushroom dish had turned green.
They were sick for about a week.
Alone deep in the jungle Sergeant Singh heard the sound of
Allied bombing and surmised even before leaflets were dropped that the end was
near for the sons of the Rising Sun.
However, he did not come out of hiding until he was sure
that the war had ended.
The bombing was traumatic for the children. We could see the
planes buzzing and swooping above our house firing machine gun shots at the
Japs' positions in town. Some of these machine gun shells fell on my aunty's
back when she covered her son, Karam Singh, in the stream where they were
catching fish. Her other son, Balbir Singh, hid only his head in the bush
exposing his whole body. She said that, for a moment, she thought that he was
dead.
At war's end we were reunited and we moved to the town and
stayed in a wooden house at the base of a hill of the Gurdwara (Sikh Temple]
land. The area was near the mangrove swamp and forest. There were a lot of
monitor lizards, wild boar and snakes, My aunty used to catch the lizards and
sold them to the Chinese who love the meat. It was a good source of income.
Once a huge python was caught crushing chickens in the coop-it too was killed
and sold to the Chinese. That python paid us a handsome return. I remember that
my uncle and the rest of us cleared the area of many cobra snakes by smoking
them out of their holes and beating them to death.
My big hearted uncle forgave Sergeant S Moi when the latter
begged for mercy. My uncle treated the whole incident as just a big trauma of
war and forgave him because he had also lost a son during a bombing raid. Other
members of the Sikh community continued to help us. My mother still had two
gold bangles so she sold one to open a small coffee shop to earn an income for
the family. Our business partner turned out to be less than honest and we were
left destitute again.
My mother sold her last piece of jewellery-the other gold
bangle and with the funds the family opened a shop selling clothes. All the
family helped with the work and the shop was profitable. At last we could begin
a normal life .
Other than a small pension for widows and orphans our family
fended for ourselves.
In November 1949, the whole family decided to move back to
India.
After being in India about 3-4 months, my eldest brother,
Hercharan Singh, decided to return to British North Borneo [BNB, now Sabah] as
he realised that by staying in India he would not have been able to earn enough
to support the family, especially for our education.
My brother, Hercharan, was a hard-working person and within
a month of his return to BNB he started sending money back to us in India. He
did not fail to send us money every month. As he began to earn more, he sent
more money for the re-building of the house, buying property in the city of
Amritsar and buying agricultural land near the city. Had it not been for his
generosity we would not have been educated.
In December 1956, I returned to BNB and continued my
education with my brother's help In 1960, I started working as an Agricultural
Assistant and two years later joined the Police Force on departmental transfer.
In 1964, as an Inspector, I was posted as Officer-In-Charge of the Police
District of Keningau which also covered the Districts of Tambunan Pensiangan.
My salary at that time was only $300 BNB. I had to walk to the Police Station
to go to the office. The day that my brother Hercharan Singh realised this, he
immediately asked me to collect a car at Jesselton [now Kota Kinabalu] which he
had already paid for the dealer's branch office at Lahad Datu. If I had to take
a loan to finance the purchase, I would have to fork out $100 plus from my
income. How to survive?
That was how our brother was! His generosity continued until
the end. Whenever I war back to India, which was quite often, if he was not
travelling along he never failed to send money through me to give to our
relatives in India. Personally, I think that my brother's wife has played a
very important role in this. She has never interfered even when he was not
well-off and had to support his own family. Instead, the only thing she had
constantly reminded him was that now he was well-off he should not forget the
needs of his brothers and sisters. In later years, Hercharan Singh became a
very successful businessman and planter. He had three sons and a daughter all
of whom are well educated and successful in their respective careers. The
eldest son, Datuk Sam Mannan is a retired Conservator of Forest.
I reached the post of Assistant Superintendent of Police and
left the Police Force in 1978 and became the General Manager of a State-owned
company for twenty years. My elder brother Sardul Singh, remained in India and
became a successful farmer and landlord, while my sister, Biba, got married
happily in India and has now settled in Canada with her son.
My mother died in India on 22 March, 1990 and my eldest
brother died in Lahad Datu on 2nd June, 1996. My uncle retired in 1950 as a
Sergeant Major, and earned the Pacific War Medal and the King George Medal. He
settled in Tuaran and became a wealthy land owner and rubber planter. He died
in 1970 aged 62 years, and my auntie died in 2002 aged years. She left 15
surviving children out of the 18 they had.
Postscript
After the war my elder sister, Biba, related to me that our
mother did know about the correspondence between men at Berhala Island.
However, she neither knew the contents of the letters nor between whom they
were sent.
Biba told me that other prisoners had revealed my father's
name under interrogation. Police friends had secretly told my father of the
revelation and to beware of a possible arrest. My mother had asked him to
escape but he refused in order to protect the family from Japanese harassment
and the possibility of holding us for ransom. On the day he was brought back to
the house he was calm but told my mother to look after the children. The Japs
were led by my sister to the chicken coop further up the hill behind the house.
The Japs knew exactly where to find them and managed to retrieve the
correspondence from Berhala Island to my father seeking assistance. These letters
were undeniable evidence against him.
The correspondence were strongly believed to be from Major
Rex Blow. My father, being in charge of the local policemen, was sort of
directing the operation while PC Mohamed Tahir and PC Korom were the go-betweens
who made the ground arrangements and operations possible. When all the
arrangements were made for the escape of the eight prisoners hiding at Berhala
Island, PC Korom and of the boat.
Source :
- SANDAKAN 1942-1945 : Stories of the local people who heroically helped the Australian POWs by Doreen Hurst 2009
- Interviewed Mr Anup Singh
Credit :
Malcom Mick Smith, Ryan Rowland and Aman Avtar Singh Sandhu
for their assistance.
Photos credit :
Mr Anup Singh
Edited by Kumis Kumis
No comments:
Post a Comment