Papers written by Hodgkin, Ernest P. (Doctor, b.1908 - d.1998) - Part 8

I really believe it. There seems so little sign that either side is really interested in
our fate; though I suppose that that is only natural when there are so much larger
issues to contend with, and whole cities get obliterated just as though they were
termite nests that had to be destroyed because they threatened a house.
5th Sept. The only excitement this week has been the arrival of another batch of letters. There are
four for me, but whether they are from you or from England I do not know & probably shall not know
for another six weeks. They still have to be censored, though most of them are already a year old!
There must be thousands more letters waiting for us somewhere. Apart from this there have been
no excitements here this last week; but if life in the camp is slow it seems to be moving with an
ever increasing tempo in the world at large. Sheep wondering how the war is affecting
you & what you x people at home are thinking about the appalling devastation now going
on in Europe.
Two lectures this week: on Entomology to about twenty doctors, and the other
a talk on handicrafts to the English class. It is difficult to make Entomology interesting:
the anatomy of a cockroach is fascinating when you have to find it out for yourself
by cutting & prodding in the animal yourself, but to get up and expound it is a very
different matter. I shall be able to judge how succesful I was by the size of the audience
next Friday. The talk was a very different matter - I enjoyed that. It was a
subject I could let myself go on. I managed to be mildly humourous without being foolish,
& the audience seemed to be interested, so when I had got warmed up I got on swimmingly.
Sidney tells me that there are lots of opportunities for lecturing at home - and being paid for it -
while on leave, but I shall have to develop a lot more confidence before I have sufficient
pleasure in speaking to want to do that.
12th. Sept Poor James cannot last long now. He has been in hospital for about three weeks, since
he collapsed one day in his room. He seemed to have recovered from that and he was keeping very
quiet, never leaving his bed, and not sitting up much. And then on Wednesday he collapsed again,
was quite unable to do anything more than lift a cup to his lips, or speak more than three coherent
words at a time. Since then he has had little ups and downs, sometimes taking an intelligent
interest in what is said to him & at others being only 
semi-conscious. I don't think he suffers
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much, and in his brighter moments comes out with a sparkle of humour - so far as his speech
allows. Someone has to sit with him the whole time & he has plenty of friends who are glad
to take turns; I take from 5 to 8 am. & was very sleepy for the first day or two but have got used
to it - sleep an hour in the afternoon, which is something quite new to me. He has had a
letter from Edith & some photos of Simon who looks like a lovely babe - they seemed to cheer him
up a bit. He realises that he cannot live long and at his request was given Communion the
other day. Miss Burgin has been over to see him twice & cheered him up I think - it is
wicked to have trained Sisters in the women's camp and have to have untrained volunteer orderlies running the Hospital & nursing the patients. I feel such a handless fool &
have not enough patience with sick people to make a good job of even the little nursing
that James requires.
I have had one letter from you, dated Oct. 26^th., and one from Father, dated Oct. 10th.,
which have thrilled me. Neither of you gives me very much, except for lists of people who are
going to have babies, but I suppose that is inevitable with the limitations imposed on you. But
you say nothing of yourself except that you are better (goodness knows from what) and
nothing of Nos. 2,3 & 4 - it must all be in others letters that I may or may not get someday
My cards must have been even less informative, but when you live in gaol & cannot say
so there is not much left you can say.
19th Sept. James died on Friday night (17th, about 9.30 p.m.) quite peacefully, the only
warning being a few minutes gasping. He had been getting gradually more comatose
for the last few days as the result of the failure of two kidneys, for the last three days he had
been unable to speak & before that he only got out three or four words with difficulty. I don't
think he even suffered much though his excessive sweating and the necessity for needing
him in one position made him uncomfortable. He was buried yesterday morning at
Bidadari cemetery, only six of us were able to go- 'Bobby' Boyd, Arthur Coestral, Ted
Soper, Munro Scott, Jeavons & myself - we xx went in the ambulance with the coffin
[*S146A*]
A short service here & one at the graveside were taken by Padre Thompson, both were very
brief - there is to be a requiem service here tomorrow morning. The women made some 

lovely 'wreaths' from the few flowers they grow in their garden. Poor Edith, it seems
so brutal that they should have been separated for these last two years of his life, and so
utterly unnecessary. The camp is allowed to send a post card, but when, if ever, it will
arrive one cannot tell. We are trying to get permission to send a radio message
in place of the one he wrote recently saying he was 'quite well'
I have done little this week of interest, for the first time in my life - I have slept
in the afternoon - to make up for lost sleep. On Friday, Hugh Wallace having taken my
night duty. I went bathing, the sea was too full of jelly fish and sea lice for bathing to
be really enjoyable, but it makes a pleasant change from camp life even when the swimming
is not of the best.
26th Sept I went to the requiem service on Monday morning, and felt thoroughly uncomfortable
because there was no prayer book or hymn book from which to follow it, and then there was communion
for those who partook. The service was taken by the Archdeacon and many of James' friends
were present. James certainly had plenty of friends; I was innundated with offers from people
to sit with him when he was ill & many people asked me about him daily.
On Friday I got involved in a discussion on reunion of the Churches. Montford, Treviston
& I were asked about Quaker views on various matters of Quaker belief and did our best to answer
but it is difficult to put into lucid form what one never really learnt but merely imbibed.
Afterwards we were taken to the general discussion meeting and I am afraid I was frankly
bored by a discussion on ^the form of baptism to be practised by a united church.
Some weeks ago we were told that the food situation was serious, but there has been
no great change. Schweitzer continues to pay for much we should not otherwise get, we
get meat fairly regularly, & more eggs than ever before - sometimes two or three a day -
so that we are getting almost enough protein. It is amazing how something always
seems to crop up when things look their blackest
Another letter, this time from Father from Donegal. One should not be ungrateful
but the idle little tattle of the hour seems so very unimportant after a lapse of
eleven months. I expect that much of this diary will seem equally uninteresting to
you, if and when you read it.
24

25.
6th. Oct. The great excitement of the last few days has been the arrival in Singapore of a ship
carrying 1,500 Americans en route for Goa and exchange. The Americans here have been in
a state of ferment, but nothing has happened, they are still here. The camp has been visited
by an official of the Japanese Red Cross, but whether he has the will or the power to aleviate our
conditions seems doubtful. However it seems possible that if these Americans can be exchanged
there is still a chance for us. We also hope that the ship may bring back mail and
comforts for us.
The very wet weather of last week made us decide that I must get off the ground.
Accordingly I have at last made myself a bed. To go in the tent it is necessarily very low,
and it is rather original in construction because it incorporates my car seat, but it
is amazingly comfortable. How much longer my tent will stand I do not know, the fly-sheet
is getting holy and will part company if we have many more Sumatras. My
sheet - what there is left of it - I tore down the middle & sewed up the edges, and my cotton
blanket is so transparent and patched that I cannot survive another month. What a life.
My shorts are disintegrating & my sarongs have fallen to pieces; I have had to pay $10
(borrowed) for a new pair of shorts & I sleep in a pair of underpants only. Many men only
wear diapers (or their adult equivalent) by day, but one might almost as well go naked
& I hope I shall never be reduced to one.
Last week "The Amazing Dr Clitterhouse' was put on, - it was very well
done. Of the two women's parts that of a tart was taken by Rev. Hayton - he was most
effective. The whole show was well up to standard, and the Changi standard is high.
It is a pity there is not more comfort for the audience; you cannot enjoy a play to
the full when packed like sardines, in stifling heat, & with your feet in water!

[*PR00788*]
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Dear Mary -
I slipped the piece of paper
in to mark the place -
Ena

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Christmas Day 1943 Our second Christmas in prison! This time a year ago few of us
thought we should have to spend another Christmas here, and now, few would feel confident
that we should not be here for next - though of course we all hope to be away
soon. There is little to indicate that this is Christmas, one day is much like the next,
and we have not been allowed the frivolities that last year marked ^it as a day apart; perhaps
it is as well, anything that marks the passage of time only x rubs in the futility
of resistance, the separation from you and all whom one loves. It is difficult to conceive
how you and the babes are spending the holiday, perhaps at the seaside, perhaps
at the seaside, I hope you are enjoying yourselves wherever you are - I can't imagine the
babes doing anything else, bless them. It is two years now, I am afraid they will almost
have forgotten me, at least Jonathan and Mickey will have done; it is a rotten
Daddy that does not give them Christmas presents, does not even write to them. How
much longer will the stupid war last, and keep us apart.
The Camp has only been allowed to hold two services today, one R.C. and one
protestant, and no sermons. Yesterday evening we were allowed a concert, it
was a poor shade of previous efforts, but the band and the choir did their
best with the little time in which they were allowed to practice and the orchestral
music and the carols were very pleasant after two and a half months without
any entertainments. The choir also went over to the women's camp
and sang carols to them. This afternoon men with women relatives were
allowed over to see them for an hour; they were entertained with all the usual
energy that the ladies put into such things, the yard was decorated, and
they were given refreshments. I spent part of the afternoon helping with a party
for boys on this side; there are about two dozen now, and Arthur with his usual
energy was making them run races, play musical bumps, and various games
and then fill themselves up with tea before we cleaned up and went over to
the other camp for another party. The kids did enjoy themselves; these were the
first organised games they had had since 'the purge' (10th. Oct. - wait I will tell
you about it); they were mostly team games, the old boys against those who have
come in in the last few weeks. They would form quite a decent little school if they
were allowed to hold classes, though of course they range in age from ten to sixteen
or seventeen.
We have sent ^2 and received from our lady friends what little presents we
could muster; I sent some needles and a tablet of lux soap (beyond price these days)
and received some Indian soap of a very powerful odour and some Brylcreem!
There is no means of conveying one's thanks; they must be assumed. But the
best Christmas present that any of us has had has been our letters, they arrived
in the camp three months ago but were only delivered two days past, nevertheless
we are very glad of them though they are so old. Only one from you, dated Aug
29th, 1942, no news - but what is there to tell, except that you and the babes are
well and of that you leave no doubt. I could wish that you told more of yourself,
but it wouldn't be you - you did, and I suppose you would say if there were anything
wrong. Ten other letters are from Home, from Mother, Father, Auntie Mary,
Auntie Isabel, Theo, and a scrap from your Mother thoughtfully giving news of
you but none of herself, G & A, except that they are still alive. Theo writes
under date 2.12.42: I wonder if this will reach you anywhere next Christmas time
....Dear child she has a touching faith in the posts, her Christmas greetings are
much appreciated - a year late. They are all dated Dec 42 - Jan 43.
There are some more recent letters from America that arrived on the
exchange ship a month ago. They bring the very welcome news that you have at
last heard of us, or most of us, but whether lists have been published or whether
you have had our second post card still seems uncertain. Any news must
have been received with great relief after so long a time without any news at
all. I am glad that you were at least under the false impression that we were
living in our own homes, so long as you had no news of us; but now that you
know that we are alive it won't hurt you to know that we are in gaol and
that not everything in the garden is rosy - not that I would wish you to waste

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much pity on us.
I am sorry to have to admit it, but the highlight of the day is that we
are full, our bellies are distended, we have had as much as we can eat, not [[?]]
the gentle fare that one is used to eat on Christmas Day, but much better than we
have seen for a long time, and enough! Breakfast was the usual watery [[muesli?]]
of rice and crushed soya bean, for lunch there was mountains of dry rice, chicken
curry (2 men to a tin instead of the usual [[10?]], and good thick vegetable broth, after
which our kongai produced Christmas pudding and custard – good fit for a thing
soy butter, and there is still rice left over for tonight if anyone has room for it.
The local Red Cross has sent us a banana each (the first fruit since the [[?]]
and some tooth powder that is quite unapproachable, it is a confusion of all the
most violet scents known to the Oriental. Oh I forgot there was a sardine
apiece for supper, but that the kongai has reserved for [[?]] times, it will make
our date supplies more palatable at some future date.
Parcels of Red Cross comforts arrived on Christmas Eve – have since
been distributed at a rate of one to each U.S. national and the rest at one parcel
to seven men (over 500 parcels); there is very little to each of us, but we are very glad
of what we get : there is butter, cheese, coffee, chicken and ham, soup concentrate,
bully beef, and a lot of other things all done up in little packages - they
make a very welcome addition to our monotonous diet. There was also a quantity
of medical supplies, dressings and a variety of drugs all of which we were
in dire need of. The dances that the Hospital staff have seen fit to supply the deficiencies
have been pathetic : washing and reusing dressings, stomach powders made from
wood-ash, magnesium carbonate extracted from brine, and a host of minor substitutions.
But I must take you back to October 10th, or events a few days earlier, when the
tendon on my right thumb developed an appalling creak and had to be put up in
plaster ; something went wrong with the [[?]] system and it had to be given some
weeks rest. I [[?]] shave with my left hand and do everything else for myself
including writing quite legibly. The cause of the trouble was overwork. The double
tenth was a day never to be forgotten; we were ordered to parade in the main
soon after dawn for a roll call, of course we got no breakfast at that
hour and went hungry. It was not the first call and most of us did
not expect it to be more than that and possibly a pep talk, imagine our consternation
then when the Gestapo arrived and announced that they would search
the camp, and also produced a long list of persons for special interrogation.
No roll was called, but we were all herded back into our own yards and
there we stayed throughout the day while the Gestapo ransacked the camp,
searching all our possessions, and bundling together whatever papers and
other things they wanted for subsequent investigation, leaving our rooms looking
like class rooms on the last day of term. It was not until it was getting dark
that we were allowed into the buildings, again and at last got something to
eat ; strangely enough I had not felt hungry, and by good fortune I had a
long and interesting book with which to amuse myself.
What it was all about we can still only surmise ; a number of people were taken away
for questioning and most of them have not yet returned, those who have come back have been
forbidden to talk – if even they know what the Nips are after. The events of that day were
startling enough, and made everyone feel uncomfortable, but the weeks that followed were far
with their fear and suspense. Almost every day someone was taken away, one never
whether it might not be one’s own turn next, there seemed to be no reason why many people
were taken. Two wireless receiving sets came to light & their owners were removed; I
suppose most of us suspected their existence but did not know where or by whom they were
operated, and I preferred not to know. The tension was increased by the stopping of all
social activities, classes and even sermons were forbidden. All sources of news
dried up, even the local paper was denied us and the Singapore radio news was no
longer given to us. In this atmosphere rumour and speculation flourished stimulating

29
the feelings of instability. All outside fatigues were stopped, even the collection of firewood
ceased until the position became desperate - we were still working on an absolute [[minimum?]]
of fuel - and for a couple of weeks the gardeners could not get out to to crop or cultivate
the gardens. Most of these restrictions are still in place, and although there are are
no longer Gestapo officers in the camp there is no indication that we are to be allowed
to return to the relative freedom of the days before the search. To make matters worse
the food gradually decreased in both in quantity and quality, we had relied very [[largely?]]
on our own purchases and those of [[?]], and when supplies from these sources
ceased, our meagre stocks gradually dwindled, after a time the [[bread?]] ceased
to come in and we had to tighten our belts - literally, I lost half a stone. Another
blow was when all tools were taken in, a few have since been allowed back
and the carpenters shop and one or two other essential services have started up
again, but all the smaller workshops were closed - which, incidentally threw
me out of work. This makes it difficult to get any repair job done, and aggravates
the unemployment problem.
One of the amusing sidelights was the fantastic prices that were paid for
tobacco, cigarettes reached the fantastic price of S1 each just before shopping was
allowed to start again, and smokers would do almost anything for a smoke. The
prices of other things soared and there was speculation by those who go in for that
sort of thing. Two Asian boys were up before the disciplinary committee for assaulting
one of the black market racketeers and taking cigars from him, my sympathies
would have been with the lads had they not been up to those tricks before. There
was no sympathy shown for the same man when he lost a large sum of money -
the proceeds of his usurious transactions.
Since early November we have had regular weekly roll calls, latterly
they have been in the three block yards instead of in the main yard where huts are
being built by Asiatic labour; the rolls now make little disturbance of life, they
have been speeded up so that they only take ¾ hour and are all over by 10.30 (TT)
They are an innovation of the new Nipponese Commandant (a Colonel this time), and
with other changes are a tightening up of discipline of which one cannot reasonably
complain, however irritating they may be to such undisciplined folk as ourselves.
Gradually over the past six weeks the tension has eased, there have been
few arrests - but there are still about forty internees in S'pore in the hands of the Gestapo
- and there is a more comfortable, confident air about the place. I was one of the
last to be questioned by the Gestapo, it was a most unpleasant experience, and I lost some
of my papers, all of them about mosquitoes and harmless. I am very sad
to have lost them as they represent a lot of hard work over the last ten years,
they were mostly articles that were almost ready for publication and I am afraid
that all the other copies will have gone astray. We do not yet know whether the attentions
of the Gestapo have ceased, and there is no news of the unfortunates in town.
During the last month a number of new internees have arrived, straining
the already grossly overcrowded accommodation still further. They are a motley crew:
a few Jews, including the Storch brothers, who arrived well provided for as they had had
their bags packed for months past; a few Europeans from up-country, who for one reason
or another had been left behind, some Catholic Brothers, Blacklin who had just
hung on in K.L., Ryrie and another who had stayed at Sungei Buloh, and a few
older men; three of the few who were still working in Singapore, including
Richard Green; and a weird assortment of Eurasians from all over the country,
including Bowers and some of his sisters and their children - I should have thought
that he was the most harmless of creatures, but that was evidently not a question
that weighed with whoever rounded them up. Changi reasoning would connect
their arrival with the imminence of repatriation; however as every fact or rumour is
twisted until it is found to prove either that we are going to be repatriated
any moment or that the end of the war is imminent, that is not a view that
one need take seriously. Richard is as precise as ever, and just as secretive -
this morning he told us about an interview he had with the Camp Commandant

30
yesterday and adjured us not to repeat it to anyone . . . the story had been all
round the camp the previous evening! He arrived here with mountains of belongings
- mountainous by Changi standards - and has settled himself in in state
with two other xxx fortunates in a cell on D IV. He had a rude awakening the
first day when he had to carry a rice tong up the three flights of stairs
assisted by a diminutive Eurasian ; he was seen to look resentfully at the
soiled handle of the tong, take out a spotless handkerchief, and drape it
delicately over the handle before taking hold of it. He appears to have been
doing a useful job of work outside, under difficult conditions, making vaccines
and sera. His social activities, if half the stories we hear be true, seem to have been
of a surprisingly un-Richard-like. Surprisingly, for one who has managed to stay out
so long, he confirms the wisdom of my refusal to go and work at the Museum.
[[?]] March. The last [[?]] have shown few changes in the lines and there have been few
wants worthy of record. There has been a change of command in the camp, the military have
taken over again from the civil authorities and we have nip sentries in addition to the Sipha.
The most noticeable [[result?]] is that we now get more food, mainly rice and soya beans, also
a little meat, fish, fruit, and a strange concoction of dried prawns, with a little maize [[?]]
peanut toffee, biscuits, and other odds and ends that we get from [[Selusetgar?]], we almost
feel satisfied. For all that we never know from day to day what we shall get, there was a
very lean period at the end of February when the rice store was empty for two days.
We have had little attention from the Gestapo and began to think we were free from their attention
until Hugh Frazer was taken away not long ago. Two of those in the town have
died of dysentery and beri-beri.

Until today we have had no news of the outside world (today we have a local paper
that is a month old!) So as you may well imagine the camp seethes with rumours that
are but [[?]] flights of fancy. I am afraid the newspapers will depress many of the more
credulous. It is marvellous what people will believe when the want to.
I have started a new trade to keep myself occupied and to make myself useful -
repairing broken spectacle frames. Most weeks I have ten to a dozen to do and that is
in addition to the many minor repairs that [[?]] has always undertaken ; so you
see one of the minor amusements of Changi is sitting on spectacles. It is an interesting
occupation, and with a bit of surgical instrument manufacture (trusses and
the like) generally keeps me busy. By way of variety, to get outside the walls, and
get some exercise I have been working in the outside vegetable garden for a couple
of weeks. It is a very pleasant change to be free for a couple of hours a day from
the oppressive grey walls of the gaol, to be able to rest one's eyes on trees, and green
plants, and to stretch them to distant horizons. It is grilling work almost naked
in the full heat of the midday sun, but in the morning the sun and the cool breeze
are very pleasant. One other new trade I have tried - watch repairing - but there
are not many people who are foolish enough to let me play with their watches or clocks.
So far I have not had any screws left over, and all the watches I have handled
still go, even my own which I thought was past hope with a broken hair spring
and other damage. I have not tried to do anything with your old watch, it is too small.
 For Sidney, I have recently tries writing short stories, apparently with some
success, much to my own surprise ; there have not been many of them though, the
labour involved in their production is not lightly undertaken. Sidney thinks they
are saleable goods, bit I am not sure and have no illusions that I shall
ever make my fortune as a writer. I shall be satisfied if I can do the writing
I have to do with greater ease and spontaneity. I am rather tickled at the
idea that I should produce fiction.
[[25th ?]] March Nine of the unfortunates from the town are back again, including the two
ladies. They are very thin and many are from well but it is a relief to all that they are
alive. It makes us hope that it will not be long before the others are released.
A batch of some seven thousand letters arrived a few days ago, so I hope for news
of you when they have been censored. They are said to be at  least six months old
but stale news is better than no news and I am pining to hear all about you and the babes
through letters when they do come give one an ache that lasts for days.