The main source for this adventure was my mother, Goh Hun Keong. The stories related over the many times we sat around the kitchen table (across the span of over 30 years) After my mother's dementia and her subsequent death, Goh Kie Ha, her brother's wife, and the oldest daughter of Chee Peck Liang, filled in certain details. Her husband, Goh Koh Pui was the source of his personal tales. Goh Teck Phuan, my father's best friend from ACS provided the hilarity. He deserved my utmost respect for his gumption and wit. He passed away in 2007.
After the news of the sinking of the HMS Repulse and the HMS Prince of Wales, our grandfather began to doubt the impregnability of the Singapore defenses, despite assurances to the contrary by colonial government and military leaders. Aware that there would be no air cover since the aircraft carrier assigned to protect Singapore was either sunk or had ran aground (?), our grandfather was not taken by the ang moh's posturing. In the midst of optimistic rumours of reinforcements of Australian/Allied troops, grandfather made plans to send his family to the Cameron Highlands. Unfortunately, it never occurred to me to ask the whereabouts nor the ownership of the highland refuge. Nevertheless, the family left for the highlands in the evening, before the Japanese troops crossed the same causeway days later.
During the confusion of the flight, number 5 son, (Mee Ding's father?) was missed. He either hid from everyone out of fear or as a lark. He may even have innocently left to say goodbye to friends. The siblings were forced to leave with their mother (my grandmother) while Chee Peck Liang remained to search for his son. The loss of their brother, albeit temporary, struck home with the younger generation, the remifications of the war even among civilians and children. My mother was struck for the first time that even Chee Peck Liang could not protect them all.
The older siblings, except for the oldest daughter, Chee Kie Ha, did not stay long in the Cameron Highlands. They returned home with their mother (my paternal grandmother) after word of the surrender of the British reached the Highlands. The entire Singapore scene had changed. The Japanese were in charge; to the horror of the local people, the reputation of the Japanese for merciless killings were understated. Rural fields and urban areas stenched of decaying flesh; gruesome decaptitated heads leered from the tops of poles at roadsides at unexpected places; all part of the campaign by the Japanese to flex their military muscle and rule by fear. The young women who returned to Singapore hid in the home because of the widespread rapes and torture by the lower rank and file of the Japanese occupation forces. Young men were being rounded up for interrogation. Goh Koh Pui, my 舅舅 was among them, having been in civil service, well spoken in English.
He spoke of a haunting incident, which seemed to torture him even during the 60s when he first related the story to us. Among the young men held by the Japanese troops, was a relative, (or perhaps just a fellow settler from our Fuzhou village) younger than 舅舅, whose vulnerability aroused his protective instincts. As the men were ordered to file into 2 rows, the sobbing youth happened to be lined up several places behind my 舅舅. He called out to my 舅舅 not to leave him behind. In kindness, my 舅 舅 negotiated with his partner, (they were lined up in twos) to change places with the weeping relative. The young men were led out of the compound by the Japanese. At the gate, the rows were separated. Those on my 舅舅 's line were told to march one way, and the other line of youths were directed the opposite way. Since they were separated outside the gate, 舅舅 thought nothing it. He and the relative arranged to meet at a coffee shop later in the day as they said their good byes.
The relative never showed up. I suspect, 舅 舅 forever questioned his 'soft hearted' decision to persuade the person next to him to exchange places with his young relative. He received news later that while one single file walked free, the other was lined up and shot. 舅舅 never identified his young relative; even if he did, could I have felt any worse?
While the Japanese Occupation was relegated to history in my carefree mind, I saluted this unknown relative each National Day, as I, a Girls' Brigader, marched pass the War Memorial to the Civilian Dead. It was impossible to forget the relevance of my 舅舅's recollections or to join in the complaints of my cohorts about our government's parade route pass a memorial to civilians while sweltering under an August morning sun. How could I? 舅舅's haunting tale gave me the meaning to the annual march pass. Sacrifices, not only by the innocuous frightened 'collateral damage' but also by men of principle like 舅舅 whose personal act of random kindness morphed into a life-long nightmare act of random cruel execution by a conquering soldier.
Even as I relate this tale of random execution, I weep for what was lost that day the young man. In early adolescence, i read adventure books about the French resistance of World War 2 Occupation by the Germany Army. Curious about his World War 2 adventures, I asked him 舅 , did you join the resistance to the Japanese? His reply was disappointingly tame to an immature fanciful tween: To embark on the journey of retribution, one must dig two graves.
Two score and more years later, I discovered a similar quote while preparing for a public presentation. My uncle was quoting Confucius. There is a famous quote by Gandhi: ' An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind' Was my uncle alluding to this in the mid sixties as he advised a wide-eye ingenue of his war experience?
舅舅, like a bamboo stalk tossed in the violent winds of war. survived the war through exercise of patience and forbearance. Unlike the unyielding mighty oaks, felled by wind gusts in an awful storm, the bamboo rode out the turbulence by yielding to the wind. My uncle chose to bide his time during the Japanese Occupation. Like so much of his life, he preferred to work incognito behind the scenes, seeking neither the limelight nor standing ovations. By the end of the war, my uncle proved his worth and courage. He served his conscience. He survived the war. He lived to marry a good woman, sire three children and participated in the building of the Singapore Port Authority to the port it is today.
NOTE: Since the publication of this blog. Cousin Jean has informed me that the War Memorial to the Civilian Dead is also called the LIM BO SENG War Memorial. One of Lim Bo Seng's sons is married to a decendant of Chee Kwi Kin, through the lineage of his older daughter, who married Mr. Lau Baik Huo aka Liu Pai Hu. in my immediate family, we respected Grand Uncle by calling him Uncle Big Head, for reasons I was too young to be privy to. Perhaps he was the oldest patriarch married to one of the second generation of Chee settlers in Singapore, or perhaps he was the wisest. I do remember my mother seeking his advice on many family matters, not the least of which was the decision to send my brother, Chee Ping Chian to the United States, a decision which was to result in the migration of members of my immediate family to the U.S. Lau Baik Huo is the Patriarch of the family of seven sisters, all educated daughters and accomplished women in their own right, who have also forged their way in the early nation building years of our country.
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