The next day the fighters returned and after swooping low over the camp several times came into the wind as slow as possible and dropped large duffle bags. They were loaded with food and cigarettes but they fell with the speed of a bomb and some burst on impact scattering the contents over a wide area. There was a wild scramble to recover the goods and if the men realized the danger of being struck and killed by one of the bags they did not seem to care. One of the bags crashed through the roof of my hut, struck the floor, and in a flash had swished right out the door spraying it’s contents with a whole gang of prisoners chasing after it.
Once again the fighters swooped down over the huts, waving and dropping notes. The notes explained that full supplies would soon be dropped by bombers and for us to take cover when this happened. The bags were collected and their contents distributed as equally as possible among the prisoners. We all had plenty of American cigarettes and how good they tasted. We also had delicacies we had long forgotten the taste of, cheese, jam, chocolate, oh how we enjoyed them.
The real joy was that this was not a Red Cross parcel that had to be nibbled to make last. We ate everything. We had our good angels promise that plenty more was to come. We had seen the might and power of the American Air Force and we believed them. For the first time in many years the prisoners slept with smiles on their faces.
This demonstration of air power was all that was necessary to break down the last vestige of Japanese authority. The military guard disappeared. Tojo’s pets slunk around making themselves as inconspicuous as possible. The prisoners disarmed those Japanese still with weapons. The ‘Child’, the Commandant, had his sword taken from him and the Dutch Captain appeared wearing it trying to assume the authority of the deposed Jap. The Canadians would have none of him and respected only their own officers.
We were able to get some whitewash from the mine and I climbed up onto the roof of a large mess hut, with some of my old paint gang from Yokohama, and in large letters painted on the tar paper roof, “569 MEN” which was the exact number of prisoners in our camp.
Tom Marsh - Chapter 22 - The Flag
The British and the Dutch had each made flags of the respective countries and flew them when our planes appeared. Some of us felt that we too should have a flag and I spoke to Captain Reid about this. He reminded us that American planes were dropping our supplies and that our own Lieut. Finn was an American Naval Officer. “I’m sure he would like to see an American flag.” It was a great idea and with the Captain’s blessing a few others and I formed a flag committee and got busy.
We began by collecting all the red and blue materials we could find in the camp. These colors were very scarce and hard to find. We were almost stumped for blue when we heard that one of the prisoners had received a blue shirt in the supplies that had been parachuted into camp. The flag committee searched out the individual and only after great patriotic pressure was put on him was the shirt surrendered. We used a six by four cotton sheet for backing and, vowing everyone to secrecy, set up a workshop in a vacant room in one of the huts.
Private N. Zytaruk of the Grenadiers, had worked as the prisoners’ tailor, brought the camp sewing machine over and we went to work. For a guide we used a card with a picture of the American flag provided by one of the prisoners. All forty-eight stars were carefully measured and cut out and the bars spaced correctly. Within two hours the project was completed. We only had enough material to finish one side the flag so someone suggested having the Canadians sign the back. Over two hundred men left their signatures on the flag. A bamboo pole was provided and the flag was ready.
