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(This chapter is part of Len Baynes' book '
The Will to Live
', an account of his wartime experiences with the Cambridgeshire Regiment, his capture in Singapore, and the four years he spent as a prisoner of the Japanese.)

As this trench was only half-dug when the bombing started, we tried to deepen it by scratching furiously away with our entrenching tools. Every time a head showed bullets whistled by. Knowing that the adversary could rush us at any time, we popped up our heads at different places every few seconds, and by this means lost no more men for the time being.

There were seven of us in the trench and it was by no means easy to deepen it at this stage; nevertheless when, about four hours later, Capt. Stick came along some dead ground the other side of the triple dannert barbed wire, we were nearly deep enough. 'You are to hold that position to the last man, or until you receive other orders,' he shouted.

Some time later, Tommy Beatty, our young Company Sergeant Major, came along the same route, and crossed the wire to approach us to within a few dozen yards. He called out a few words of encouragement, telling us that he was on his way to try to find out what was wrong at our Company H.Q. I told him that the open space he would need to cross to get there was under heavy enemy fire, but he carried on with a cheerful grin.

He was only twenty-one or two, having obtained rapid promotion through keenness and hard work. When it came to the test he did his job at least as bravely as the oldest in our ranks. A few hours later we discovered that when he ran the gauntlet of that open space he was hit in the abdomen by a burst of fire.

He lay where he fell, conscious all that day in the blistering sun with his bowels exposed to the heat and flies, yet refraining from calling for help lest he cause further casualties. (Two days later, a captain from another company was to take refuge in our trench having lost his own company. After receiving a harmless neck wound he roared loud enough to be heard at our Regimental Aid Post (R.A.P.) a quarter of a mile away, insisting that stretcher bearers come and carry him over the bullet swept ground. He got off and walked when he reached safety.)

There was at this time much wrong at our Company H.Q. as our Company Commander had been killed along with one of his officers. Our C.S.M poor Tommy was hors de combat, and my own officer had left us at the commencement of the action, leaving me, a sergeant, in charge of the platoon; so with many N.C.Os also dead, command was sadly depleted. Late that night a party of our brave stretcher-bearers crept out and rescued Tommy and got him away to base hospital. Incredibly, he survived, though with terrible scars.

The two sections which formed our centre and left positions, had open ground all around them, and were therefore quite unapproachable under fire. This was one of the many mistakes we made in our introduction to jungle warfare. We had been taught that it was essential to give each section a good clear field of fire, which was probably right in the desert; but here, where a high degree of mobility, infiltration and sniping were the order of the day, the field of fire made us sitting ducks for the enemy concealed under and up the trees and shrubbery all around us. It was easy to be wise after the event.

Later, L/Cpl. Kelly, one of our company runners, brought me an order to leave our trenches and take the platoon up the hill behind us to ferret out snipers who were firing at Battn. H.Q. from the hilltop. (It was then thought that only a few snipers had infiltrated through our lines under cover of darkness.) I drew up a plan of action; upon my giving the order, all were to jump out of the trench together, spreading out and making for the cover of the trees.

Private Hoskins was instructed to crawl along the dead ground to take the same message to our two other sections. Advancing up the hill, we were to meet under a water tower, which was situated on the hilltop. When I gave the order all obeyed (except Cpl. Malin who decided to keep the trench warm for us pending our return). We proceeded up the hill and heard the click of bullets hitting trees as Japs across the valley caught glimpses of us. We reached the water tower, and found that it had been hit by a bomb which had knocked it partly onto its side.

I counted ten dead men from another regiment around the area; they were part of a party sent earlier to 'remove the snipers'. We lay quietly under cover for a few minutes, awaiting the arrival of our other two sections, but we waited in vain. We did not then know that Pte. Hoskins had been shot dead long before he could pass on any message.

Carrying on up the hill, we reached the crest. Heavy firing from the other side of the hill indicated that a very large force was over there, and not just a few snipers for the five of us to deal with. I gave the order to toss one hand grenade each over the top, intending to pop up while the enemy's heads were down to gather what information we could. This failed to work, and the bullets came faster than ever, accompanied by a few mortar bombs.

Then we heard a different sound, as a salvo of three inch mortar bombs landed just behind us, A few seconds later another salvo passed over our heads, and landed in front; we then knew that we were watching the handiwork of our own mortar platoon. B.H.Q. had realized by now that instead of snipers up here, a major attack was developing on our rear. I had a very healthy regard for our Mortar Platoon, and yelling for the men to follow, broke cover and ran as fast as I could go back down the hill.

Chapter 7

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