Group Captain James (Jim) M. Sutherland - POW experience R.A.A.F Squadron 1 |
Prisoner of War Experience
Summary Captured in Java in March 1942. (** Not to be confused with another Jim Sutherland of Melbourne also Japanese POW)
Details Camp#24, Senryu (Sendyu), Fukuoka, Nagasaki, Japan. Sources - Books: Sources - Websites The last 9 months of Jim's POW experience were spent in this camp. From January 1945 to September 1945. As the most senior Military POW officer in the camp (at Flight Lieutenant and aged only 24), he was appointed as Camp Commandant for the Prisoners. The camp was a coal-mining camp. It was comprised of 114 Australian, 36 American, 135 British and 4 Dutch POWs according to Dr Julien Goodman's book. The nos. slightly differ from those on Mansell's lists. (This is being checked). Research into this camp indicates the experience was not as horrific as the Burma-Railway experience, but nevertheless, 19 men died in this camp over the 9 months - 3 Australians and 16 British. While some of the men were very ill when they came to the camp from the Hell-Ships and working on the railway, Dr John Higgin was of the opinion the men could have been saved if medicines were suitably available in the camp. Diet was very poor, and even here in this "better camp" there were beatings and cruelty. Red Cross parcels arrived but contents were often not passed onto the doctors and the men, including vital medicines and vitamins which would have prevented the deaths of many of the men. Vindictive punishment for trivial matters became life-threatening for sick men. For example, see this document below from Jim Sutherland's records where the Japanese Camp Commandant Major Yamaguchi withholds breakfast and lunch to all men because a few men were caught smoking without permission. This for men about to work in the mine, some very thin and weak. Note - this document is dated August 9th, 1945 - less than one week before Japan surrendered.
"The air-raid siren intermittently shrieked out its wavering warning many times day and night, but we saw few evidences of planes. So on the bright morning of August 9, after breakfast mess, John and I repaired to the hospital for rounds. Suddenly siren reverberation warning of an approaching air raid directed our eyes skyward with casual interest. Suddenly the Jap bugler sounded assembly, and Matsuo’s voice along with the those of numerous others commanded everyone to get into the old mine tunnel at once. John and I stepped outside as the noisy mass of humanity rushed into the tunnel, prodded and probed by the guards. Suddenly only the wavering siren could be heard. All else was quiet. We looked skyward and saw only the clear blue sky, and so re-entered the storeroom office. We were curious at the prolonged quiet and walked among our litter patients, chatting nonchalantly with the hope of lessening their anxiety as to what was transpiring outside. I returned to the doorway and looked out at the deserted camp. Not even a guard was in sight. Everyone was down in the mine tunnel except the litter patients, Higgin and me. I looked upward and could see high in the distance the four vapour trails we had come to recognise as evidence of a visit by our B-29 bombers. “John,” I called to Higgin, “come here and -” Suddenly, then it happened, cutting off my comment by its abruptness. A horrendous, loud, indescribable sound assailed our ears. We both dived for the floor of the storeroom as the thunderous roar, which resembled that which would result from a myriad of 16-inch naval batteries fired in unison, filled the air and now was accompanied by the floor bumping up and down as during an earthquake. The earth and storeroom floor vibrated violently for a few moments, and the earth temblor stopped as suddenly as it started. A deathlike, all-encompassing silence now pervaded the area, followed by a sudden disruption by a violent hurricane wind which rocked the building, as its ever-increasing-in-strength gusts struck the walls and vigorously shook the window frames and rattled the doors. Then this wind died away, and a stillness and quiet that was ominous of a catastrophe returned. "
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