LOST THOUGHTS OF WAR RETURN: A DIARY OF THE MIND

Tanka 47 to Tanka 55

Troopship: Sea Snipe, Summer, 1943

Food shortages aboard a crowded ship, then bully beef in Australia.

Tanka 47

we were all cargo

side by side and head to foot

two feet between cots

reminiscent of slave ships

except that we weren't chained

Tanka 48

the ship was crowded

we had just two meals per day

long lines to get food

the waiting for meals endless

and the food was not gourmet

Tanka 49

dollar candy bar

although it just cost three cents

that's the going rate ~

Army profiteers did well

and we stayed always hungry

Tanka 50

once the ship's food spoiled

so that day we all fasted

but not the sea's fish ~

navy men always ate well

they invited officers

Tanka 51

that bad meal was dumped ‑‑

a single toss overboard

all in one fell swoop

so no cues for submarines

which track straight lines of flotsam

Tanka 52

no defects allowed

so they pulled all Ponder's teeth

he was then called Gums ~

he looked funny but was sad

he couldn't chew Army food

Tanka 53

soldier's bane ‑ KP

except aboard a troop ship

a job to pray for ~

the only ones who ate well

and could steal food for their friends

Tanka 54

Townsville Australia

landfall and then bully beef

devoured on huge rolls ~

our dreams of food were granted

but not twice daily for weeks

Tanka 55

was that their main food

we soon got ill at their sight

tossed in garbage cans

when will we eat normal food

bully beef surely was not

I. The Sea Snipe was our troopship to Australia — a huge vessel designed solely for human cargo. There were five holds — huge areas of the ship, one above the other and accessible by broad companionways. We slept in the lowest hold, in the bottom of the ship, on stretched canvas sheets, oriented in vertical columns of five, abutting others on one side, and at the head and the foot, with about a two‑foot head‑space between the canvas sheets. The only open area was at one side of the cot so we could slide in. Woe unto any claustrophobic, since we were

densely compacted.

II. The ship was so full of its cargo of soldiers that the kitchen staff could serve only two skimpy meals a day, and they were of worse quality than the poor food which we had been fed on land. The hunger aboard the Sea Snipe was even greater than we experienced when we were at Fort Belvoir; we were now continuously ravenous, but our effort to appease our hunger had been thwarted by those who had the foresight to stack up on cases of candy bars at the PX, on the first day we left port. The lines to buy candy bars as soon as we boarded the ship extended for hundreds of yards and we could see men walking away carrying a dozen cartons or more of candy bars. Unfortunately, I decided I would not wait the many hours it would take to buy candy — I would come back after the initial rush was over. But I was mistaken; the next day there was nothing to buy. Clever entrepreneurs had stripped the PX of it all. The going rate for a candy bar then became a dollar, despite the original purchase price of three cents. Profiteers were not found only in civilian life.

III. One night as we approached the hot serving tables containing the vats of food, trays in hand, to secure our evening meal, we could see that the serving vats remained filled to the brim, and that the men were not taking any. Closer attention revealed that the food was badly

spoiled and obviously unfit for consumption. Its only fate was to be thrown overboard during the single period of time allotted to disposal over the side. We learned garbage was always tossed overboard only at one single time daily, announced in advance over the public address system, and no one was ever allowed to throw anything overboard, no matter how small, in order to prevent leaving a floating trail for the Japanese subs to follow. A single heaving of garbage would provide only one navigational point in the sea — no line — and hence no indication of the direction of the voyage. That day there was a massive simultaneous launching of garbage since no one was able to eat the putrid dinner. The navy crew wasn't hungry because they were fed different (untainted) food. We subsequently learned that the ship's captain had been convicted for selling the food destined for the troops.

IV. Just before we left for our overseas trip, one of our men had all his teeth extracted. We never knew why nor did he understand the reason for the wholesale extraction, but the removal of all 32 teeth was completed in just three sessions, and Ponder was having a tough time eating his meals. At the time we boarded the ship, he had healed to an extent, but an edentulous person can't chew anything harder than oatmeal, and "Gums" Ponder, as he was soon named, was seen pathetically, attempting to trade the one box of candy bars he had been able to purchase. He would wander through our company with his lament, "Anyone want to trade a Zagnut for a Milky Way?" The notorious Zagnut could crack even healthy teeth — it could never be consumed using toothless gums. We were all amused by his plight, since the thought of our being so afflicted never crossed our thoughts, and this twenty‑year old gave the appearance of a toothless old man. When we arrived in Australia, he was fitted with a full set of dentures, but never lost his nickname "Gums."

V. KP was the duty every soldier universally tries to avoid, except for the journey aboard the Sea Snipe. We were always so hungry that being on KP provided the possibility of stealing food. One night I was lying on my cot, where I spent most of my time since there was no opportunity to do anything interesting. Suddenly there was a rapid movement, men were jumping down from their cots, and running along the aisle. I looked out and saw the reason. One of our men was carrying a tray of leftovers he had scrounged from the kitchen where he was on KP duty. He could barely allocate any food to his friends because there were hands grabbing every scrap on his tray and it was stripped bare in seconds. He had somehow been placed on permanent KP, perhaps because he was a cook, and thus had the good fortune to acquire all the food he needed. On a few occasions he sneaked some scraps out for his friends. I was resentful of the Navy men who ate three good meals daily. Once while I was on deck, I peered though some portholes and was able to see sailors at their mess. They were eating well. They ate from plates, not metal trays, and there seemed to be no shortage. When some of the Army men pleaded for handouts of food through the portholes, sometimes one of the sailors would hand out a few pieces of bread to those of us waiting there and we were grateful. It was hard to believe that we would have so little food to eat, and that the small amount we had was so bad we often rejected it.

VI. When we disembarked in Australia after our month‑long trip across the Pacific, we were given sandwiches of bully beef on large rolls. It was a welcome treat after our prolonged hunger and bad food, and we were delighted. However, when the bully beef sandwiches continued to be served for some ten successive days for both lunch and dinner, they were often thrown uneaten into the garbage cans, and we resolved never to eat bully beef again.

Sir Sidney Weinstein

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The philosopher's response:

It was December 8 1941. Admiral Sir Tom Phillips of the Royal Navy had set off from Singapore. There were five ships; the new battleship, Prince of Wales, the battle cruiser, Repulse, and three destroyers. Incredibly, they were without air support. The purpose of this Z Force was to attack a large Japanese supply convoy. Elsewhere in the Pacific, the Japanese Third Fleet under Vice Admiral Takahashi had 60 transports loaded with troops. On December 9, the Japanese submarine I‑6 radioed to Admiral Yamamoto, of the First Fleet, who was on the Nagato off Sapporo in Japanese waters. The new Japanese battleship Yamato was not yet ready for battle duties. Vice Admiral Ozawa had five cruisers but their 8 inch guns were no match for the 15 inch guns on the Prince of Wales, the most modern battle ship in the world. Admiral Yamamoto was the world's foremost authority on naval aviation. Yamamoto ordered 30 divebombers equipped with 1000lb bombs. The planes took off from an airbase in Indo China. The planes sighted the Prince of Wales late in the afternoon, but they were at the limit of their return range. They returned to base. Next day Yamamoto sent 84 torpedo bombers. There was a clear break in the sky. The Prince of Wales and the Repulse were lost. The invincible battle ship era was over; now it would be the war of naval air power. Admiral Sir Tom Phillips was one of those who died that day. (1888‑1941).

Those of you who did not live through those times can hardly imagine the horror of the news of the sinking of the Prince of Wales. My father, who had been a British soldier in the Australian Army in France in 1915, called us all together and told us the war may be lost. Later I discovered that Churchill had said that when he heard the news he experienced fear for the first time.

*****

"About four months after their induction, a rumour raced through the barracks that they were going to be sent overseas... The rumour became reality one night when they were transported in full military dress on a train and then loaded aboard cargo ships. To avoid being intercepted by

enemy submarines, they were not allowed to tell any outsiders the date of departure or their destination. They were abruptly sent on their way without even a chance to see their families. The boat bounced up and down upon the black ocean. And a cold rain was falling. The hold of the ship reeked with the smell of paint and the body odour of the soldiers... Ozu's regiment was unexpectedly put ashore at Dairen... Letters from Japan finally arrived some two months later. Ozu received a letter from his mother... `And yesterday we learned that Flatfish had died from an illness he contracted on the battlefield...' [Flatfish had been Ozu's closest university friend.] He [Ozu] felt no shock or surprise. Everything was being swept away in the dismal fortunes of this dismal age... `Hey Ozu!', a private first class beside him called out. `How come you're looking so down‑in‑the‑mouth over a letter? Did something happen?' `Yes, I just got word that one of my friends died of illness at the front.' `Oh?' The private's voice was softer than usual. `Well don't let it get to you. Everyone's gotta die sometime'. Ozu announced that he was going to the latrine and slipped out into the hallway. In these barracks the toilet was the only place one could be alone. There in the bathroom Ozu shed his first tears..."

Shusako Endo; "When I whistle" ISBN 0 7206 05261

Kata_uta The restless ocean, 5

Then the fury of battle ‑ 7

Now soil smeared lips in death 7

Hugh Bygott