They therefore gathered in the lobby to meet the Japanese who were headed by a Major who spoke excellent English. Pistol in hand he advanced into the lobby confronting Dr. Banfield and others who stood lined up in their white uniforms and Red Cross arm bands. The Jap bowed and Dr. Banfield informed him that this was the hospital and that he and his staff were at the disposal of the Japs but trusted that they would be allowed to continue their work of mercy. While his men overran the building, taking everything they fancied, the Jap Major talked with Dr. Banfield and told him that he had lived in Canada and had attended University there. He named the University. Dr. Banfield replied that it was the same University from which he himself had graduated. The Jap Major was pleased and smiled. Dr. Banfield hoped that by this chance happening he could get a break for our wounded. Then it was reported to the Major that a quantity of arms and equipment had been found hidden in the hospital. This was the equipment and arms of the patients and was not hidden but the Major pretended to believe that it was and that the hospital was being used as a secret ammunition and supply dump. He upbraided Dr. Banfield for what he called the abuse of the Red Cross flag and the Geneva Convention. He brushed aside the explanation that this was the clothing and arms of the patients. He was ‘So sorry’ but an example would have to be made. All in the hospital would have to be shot. Guards came into the room and covered the staff.
“You my friend, for the sake of our old Alma Mater, will be spared.”
And before the Doctor’s horrified eyes the Jap gave the order and every one of the staff was shot down. Then the Japs ran amok in the wards bayoneting the wounded. The hospital was a shambles. At the convent Dr. Banfield, still shaken and nervous, was trying to do his best to alleviate suffering but his experience had placed its mark upon him.
At last the doctor examined me. Noting that the bullet had passed through my head he shook his own and said that he could do nothing for me, not even change the dressing as there were none. I did not sleep that night and suffered agony. Shells were still falling in the vicinity and the boom of the guns was constant.
Next morning Japanese guards appeared and we were told to prepare ourselves for another march. Many were unable to rise and were left. At first I had great difficulty in standing. My leg was swollen and stiff to the hip. My head seemed to be twice its normal size. I had not yet recovered the use of my hands and still could not move thumb or fingers. I managed however, with the help of another prisoner, to roll up a blanket given me by the nuns.
Now commenced another march, thankfully a short one, in the blazing sun. It has been said that the Japs deliberately marched their prisoners in the heat of the midday sun to torture them. I can vouch for this statement. This day we marched again along the streets of Kowloon. What a change from the time we marched with bands playing and warm meals and good billets awaiting us. Now we hobbled along on sticks and makeshift crutches, many supported by stronger comrades. Others were carried on wooden stretchers. Finally we entered the compound of Argyle Camp, lately used as a Chinese refugee interment camp. Our group was halted and I collapsed upon the ground where I stood. I had made it this far but I could not go a step further. I desired nothing so much as to sink down to the ground, to be left alone, and to make no further effort.
All of the group were allotted to certain dilapidated huts that surrounded the compound, the badly wounded to two huts designated as hospitals. When all were gone I was left alone lying on the square. An Englishman, a medical Corps Orderly, came over and knelt beside me. Placing his arm beneath my head he raised me to a sitting position, “Come on chum!” he said encouragingly, “You can make it!”
