An Exciting Escapade

This is a true life drama. During World War II we were in China and what happened between September and Octo­ber 1941 when I was a child, I recall from memory and the sketchy information fed by my father Dossabhai.

A passenger ship belonging to the P&O (The Penin­sular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company) was par­tially converted into a mobile hospital and anchored in the bay of Shameen near Hong­kong (where my brother Phiroz and I were born), in the province of Canton in South China. Sha­meen had been ceded to the British Government by China by a special treaty years ago. Here small groups of Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Parsis, British and Asian nationals lived together in peace for years. Perhaps this was the ship’s last voyage, for it picked up more passengers fleeing from Canton, Shanghai, Kowloon and its adjoining areas.

It was a godsend for my parents, for the situation had gone from bad to worse with frequent air raids, sporadic fires in buildings due to Japanese bombing, constant running for the shelters with very small children, poor conditions of the roads, curfews, black­outs and shortages of food. Life had become so unbeara­ble that many people had already left, in whatever transport available. Besides, the political scenario was unstable, with a great tussle going on between the revolutionary leader Mao, who wanted to introduce Communism in China (though still in its infancy) and Chiang Kai-shek who advocated nationalism. Before such a fluid situation could turn into civil war, Japan wanted to overthrow both powers and pursue its expansionist policy.

My father was very worried. Just seven years back he had come to the little town of Shameen to work as an accountant with a reputed cloth merchant, M/s Vasania and Company. After two years he had sent for my mother Perinbanoo and they were happy in the flat allotted to them by the employer, when Japan declared war on China. Within a short time, Japan had captured northern parts of the country and was now attacking from the south. Its superior naval fleet was achieving success in the North China Sea, had overrun Formosa and some of the tiny islands, and the fall of China was certain within a month.

Two days before the departure of the ship, Father received an urgent message from one of his friends that Japanese soldiers had landed in the vicinity of Shameen as they suspected that British spies were operating in this area and a few Parsi families were also on their list. Japan’s diplomatic relations with the French and British had further deteriorated so the soldiers were sent to investigate.

It was a shocking, baseless suspicion. My father was not involved in anything, though he had a large circle of friends with whom he used to discuss war and politics and organize functions like weddings, navjote ceremonies, etc. After receiving this alarming news, he immediately ran to his best friend Jal, staying with his wife and two little daughters just a few blocks away. Jal was always ready to help, and admired the British immensely, though basically he had no hatred for the Japanese. Among the other Parsis Father knew in Shameen were the Pavris, Dhabers, Basanias, Shroffs, and a Mr Bhamgara who was a good astrologer, in touch with Chinese politicians and had a large circle of business friends. Apart from this, Bhamgara was very fluent in Chinese, and had a Chinese wife and four children.

This is the story Bhamgara disclosed to Father of what happened after we left Shameen. A group of Ja­panese soldiers descended on his premises with a long list of British spies, in which were included the names of Jal, his own name, and Father’s name. Jal was imme­diately arrested and taken away as a British spy and though there was no proof he was detained for months in a Chinese prison and ultimately executed in the cruel­est way, because he refused to ‘confess’ he was a British spy. Bhamgara eluded the Japanese soldiers for three years, was arrested once, but ran away from prison with the help of an Indian soldier. His family was harassed considerably till the Communists took over and they were allowed to go free. When he returned to Bombay after many years, my parents invited him with his family for dinner which was when we pieced together the full details of Jal’s story and of our escape.

When Jal first heard of the impending investiga­tion by Japanese soldiers, there was a confident smile on his face. No bunch of dwarfish Japanese was going to nab them. Impossible, when they had the world’s most efficient British and French army to protect them. Fortunately, that had not convinced Father, who pleaded with him that he was going back to Bombay with his family in a ship anchored here, and this was the last chance for both to get away as no other ship would come after this. But the arrogant fellow refused to budge, in spite of his wife’s desperate pleas and the tears of his children.

Greatly disappointed that Jal wasn’t leaving with us, Father said his farewells to his other friends while we packed and unpacked so many things, not know­ing what to take and what not to, as we were leaving the whole house behind. In a hurry we selected a few rare things like exquisite vases, tea sets, Chinese garas, etc and left much behind as we had a very small cabin on the ship. Before leaving we said a few words of prayer and there were tears in our eyes.

Our three Chinese servants, Achee, Ayeen and Ango, all very hard-working and loyal and poor, who had taught us children our first Chinese words (I still remember their rain song even at this age), were left behind with a sad heart. But on the day of our depar­ture, as we were locking the door, we again saw Ayeen (so attached to the family that Father had once joked that we would take her to India), waiting on the last step. Having decided to go with us all the way to India, she had brought her bag with her and when Mother came upon it behind the staircase, told us that she was going to her friend’s place in search of a new job. Saying this she picked up her bag and some of our bags also and started walking along with us towards the pier.

We could get no transport on the main road and walked quite a distance with poor Ayeen carrying the bulk of the load. It was still dark, as we had to be at the pier by 6.30 a.m. and suddenly my brother and I felt very sleepy. What happened after that we are not aware, but learnt later from Father that we had to pass three different posts manned by British and French soldiers where he must have shown our passports and documents. How we passed through curfew bound areas without detection was a miracle, with the Japanese (their features so similar to the Chinese) on the lookout for anyone escaping from this region.

When I opened my eyes I found to my great astonish­ment that we were entering the dock which had a huge ship afloat, a ladder hanging from its side and people rushing towards it. Hindus, Muslims, Christians, all were fleeing Shameen. At the barricade for the strict final check we had to wait in a long line and Ayeen, who was still with us, began crying when the ticket checker and guard detained her for not having a ticket. We could hear her voice in Chinese, "Massa Massa, please take with you,” as we boarded the ship up the ladder. The last we saw her was from the cabin window. She was waving her hand and crying, holding her bag in her hand. My parents were also visibly moved as they tried to busy themselves arranging our luggage in the cabin. When we looked out once again our best servant had quietly disappeared. With the final hooter the ship lifted anchor for the gruelling voyage of 4,000 miles to India.

Our first day on the ship turned out to be peace­ful, though fear was still lurking in the minds of my parents and the other passengers of Japanese spies aboard, and of aerial bombing from Japanese planes. Our close survey of the ship revealed it to be quite big with upper and lower decks, and people were even sit­ting on the cargo it carried in a separate boat at­tached to it.

Three days later when we saw planes circling above our ship, there was great panic among the passengers. But they flew away without causing any damage and later we learnt from the captain that as this ship was partly converted into a mobile hospital during the war and luckily still retained the two red cross signs on its two sides, it had been spared by the bombers. But now we were about to face new hazards — the magnetic mines floating in the sea dropped by Japanese fighter planes during their raids. It was a real test of skill for the captain to evade them and though sailing along the coast was less dangerous than attempting the deep sea, the threat was always there. Besides, many ships were now painted with anti magnetic solutions on the front and at the back, so that the impact could be avoided. Perhaps our ship was painted the same way, we thought, because it managed to dodge a few mines during our trip. Other lurking hazards were the Japanese gunboats waiting in secret hideouts close to the coast to pounce on in-coming and out-going ships. As we were sailing on we saw a number of these gunboats from a distance, but none of them opened fire on us because of the blessed red markings on either side of the ship. So the sign of Jesus’ cross really saved us!

One week on board had already passed quickly, with my parents still paranoid about Japanese spies. On the seventh day when my brother opened the door of our cabin we saw a monkey sitting on the railing outside, smoking a cigar. We rarely saw animals in Sha­meen and this one had a long chain tied around his neck and some people were watching his tricks. For a few days we were entertained by this creature owned by one of the kitch­en assistants. He was an Indian but unfortunately we could hardly see his face as it was always screened by the newspaper he was reading. One day as usual we opened the door in the morning but the monkey was not there. Later Father was told that the poor animal fell ill and died, which made us very sad. They made a beautiful coffin for him and threw him into the water.

Another entertainment on board was the disco cabin. When the door was opened, no light could be seen within (it was designed for war days), but if you closed the door the light came on. Another interesting thing to watch was the washing of the decks every day by the crew, though sometimes we had to close the door of our cabin for a long time to prevent water from seeping in and watched from the round windows.

Our last hazards were encountered in the Gulf of Tonkin, very near Penang, where pirates used to attack ships but fortunately in wartime no pirates were in sight though we saw some of their empty ships with flags of skull and bones fluttering high on the masts.

On the 10th day we had reached far south in the China Sea and were poised to enter the Strait of Malac­ca, close to Singapore. From there our ship took a sharp turn towards the Bay of Bengal and now we were entering Indian waters and passing Andaman and Nicobar islands where no Japanese soldiers or spies could touch us. Between Penang and the Bay of Tonkin it rained and the sea was very rough and my brother and I fell sick and vomited a lot as did many other passengers. By the grace of God we had crossed almost three-quarters of the distance from Canton, but war was still raging in the far China Sea between the British and the Japanese for the final victory. But that was on the other side and now we were far off from the war zone. After cross­ing the Andaman we reached Calcutta harbor, which was Father’s first destination.

He was very anxious to meet his uncle and aunt after a long time but there were rumors and great panic in the city that Japanese forces were poised to attack from Burma and Assam, and joining hands with the Azad Hind Forces created by Subhas Chandra Bose to achieve independence for India. Many people were fleeing the eastern states to stay in the western regions of India which were more safe. Japan’s strategy was to direct their superior naval fleet into the Bay of Bengal and with the help of a German submarine stationed deep into the Arabian Sea attack the southern peninsula. But for some reason this plan was abandoned and their naval fleet turned round in an abortive attempt to conquer Australia instead, and the rest is history.

After staying in Calcutta for a couple of weeks in great anxiety and tension, we got to Bombay with much difficulty by an overcrowded train. Safe and sound at last in the arms of our beloved grandparents who had been waiting anxiously for days to receive us, we thanked God for rescuing us. We reached Bombay around October and barely two months later came the news of Pearl Harbor being attacked by the Japanese. This miraculous escape, and poor Ayeen’s forlorn face will remain in our hearts for a long time to come.

After fleeing China in 1941 the author Dinshaw Naterwalla took up residence in Bombay. On completion of his education he joined the legal firm of Mulla and Mulla where he has been serving as accounts assistant.