This was the unuttered cry of all the prisoners. Give us food. Give us enough so that we can live. How can we work when we are starving? The Japs answer ‘We will show you how’ and he did. At Hong Kong following the surrender the rations were meager. Every man got two small bowls of rice daily and some greens such as turnip, cabbage, eggplant and sea kale and the occasional serving of a small portion of fish or meat. From December 1941 until February 1945 we each received one Red Cross parcel. At the time we left for Japan proper we were all suffering from malnutrition. From 190 pounds at the time of my capture I was down to 120 pounds and so it was with the rest. Malnutrition diseases had set in, beriberi, dysentery etc. Yet if a man, however sick, was able to walk he was presumed fit for work and was compelled to go out on working parties. He was of little or no use and his condition was aggravated by exposure and toil.
At D3 Camp near Yokohama, in the winter of 1943, I suffered an attack of dysentery and as I was sick and so weak that I was utterly useless for any kind of work. I reported to our Medical Officer, Capt. Reid. What I desired was an excuse from work in the shipyard until I could recover a little. Captain Reid had not the power to excuse anybody. All the sick able to walk had to be paraded before one of the guards, a private. He sat at a table at the end of one of the huts. Vastly impressed with his own importance and determined to impress that same importance on any of the prisoners who should come before him. That morning there was a long line of sick prisoners. Most could hardly walk and were suffering from a variety of malnutrition and exposure diseases. All of them had previously been examined by Dr. Reid and found him to be in dire need of hospitalization, extra food and rest.
We were told by the Doctor that all depended on the whim of the surly guard and that we should all salute and hope for the best. As we filed up to the table Captain Reid stood beside the Jap pointing out the names of the men on a sheet of paper. In the best Japanese, of which he was capable, he tried to make the guard understand the seriousness of the individual prisoners complaint.
Man after man dragged himself before the table. They stood after giving a feeble salute in a hopeless forlorn position. Captain Reid would make his plea. The Jap paid scarcely any attention to what he was saying and would put a mark against the name on the list. Then peering at the sick and shivering prisoner he would say in English with a motion of dismissal, “Work. You work.”
A few, for no particular reason, were excused work. A fewer still were allowed an increase in their ration of a small bun of bread a day for a limited period to offset dysentery and malnutrition.
I had been long enough a prisoner to have some idea of the Jap’s mentality and decided to give my knowledge a tryout. When my turn came at last and I stood before the table, I gathered together the last remnants of strength I possessed, sprang smartly to attention and gave Mr. Glower Puss a real military salute. He was at first surprised and then obviously pleased. Turning to Captain Reid. He said, “ Give that man bread.”
And bread and rest I got, for about ten days. When we were dismissed I told the Doctor he could keep the bread, as I knew there were some who needed it worse than me. I would be satisfied with the rest from labor.
He replied, “ Keep the bread Marsh. If I gave it to others the Japs would find out and it would be the worse for us all.”
I shared this bread with friends as they had shared with me.
During the summer of 1944 in Yokohama we were, as usual, very hungry. Our constant ambition was to get a little extra to eat. One afternoon, while passing along the quay on an errand, I was surprised to see the water around the dock alive with little fish. Here was food, but how to get it? I went back to the paint shop, and unobserved, made myself a scoop net out of some bamboo canes and an old piece of sacking.
