Hero or Deserter? Gordon Bennett and the Tragic Defeat of the 8th Division
THE situation in Singapore was verging on the apocalyptic and the Allies decided to capitulate. But Gordon Bennett was determined not to fall into enemy hands — he was going to escape …
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THIS is an exclusive extract from Hero or Deserter? Gordon Bennett and the Tragic Defeat of the 8th Division, by Roger Maynard.
AS the first light of day broke over Singapore on the morning of February 15, 1942, Henry Gordon Bennett was filled with despair. The dying city was writhing in agony. The 8th Division was falling back as the enemy’s advance continued unchecked. Japanese troops were opposite the Australian front and the Allies realised there was nowhere else to go.
Bennett had one more meeting to attend, the last conference of senior Allied officers before the final curtain fell. It was timed for 9.30am in the Battlebox at Fort Canning, where the penultimate scene in this disastrous and humiliating struggle would be played out.
Eschewing his staff limo for fear of being spotted from the air, Bennett and his aide-de-camp climbed into a truck and headed for the heavily-guarded underground nerve centre.
After convincing the guards that he really was the head of 8th Division, Bennett was allowed to enter.
The imposing, solid-iron doors, installed in the event of a gas attack, opened to reveal a set of ten steps down and another six up. Ahead was a long hallway with a series of doors at regular intervals. Each room was locked securely. The occupants usually remained inside for many hours, communicating with other staff inside the honeycomb of passages and adjoining chambers only by telephone. Wall signs prohibited staff from smoking, eating and talking loudly in order to prevent operations being disrupted.
Shut off from the electronic chatter in the background, was the Anti-Aircraft Defence Room where the conference of senior commanders was about to get underway. Today it was as quiet as a chapel of rest. Only the gentle murmur of the ventilation system broke the silence.
Bennett and Lt Gen Arthur Percival, Britain’s GOC Malaya, sat down along with formation commanders and senior staffs of Malaya Command. AH Dickinson, the chief of police, was there, as well as Brigadier Ivan Simson, the army’s chief engineer and military liaison officer who had done so much to alleviate civilian suffering.
Everyone knew the end was near and each offered tales of death and disaster to reinforce their point. Simson seemed “very disturbed” by the rate at which civilisation seemed to be falling apart.
“No wonder,” noted Bennett. “The city is rapidly becoming a shambles, buildings have collapsed on the occupants, bomb holes in the road are unrepaired and the destructive aerial bombing is continuing unmolested.”
As they sat around the table that morning each officer urged a termination of hostilities. All that is except Bennett, who suddenly and quite unexpectedly, suggested: “How about a combined attack to recapture Bukit Timah?”
The interjection was met with a stunned silence. What was Bennett going on about? Had he momentarily lost his mind or was he anxious to show he was not as defeatist as the rest of them?
The conversation resumed with a dire assessment of conditions on the ground. The civilian population was almost totally out of food and water, it was impossible to treat the huge number of casualties and there was no one left to rescue those who lay trapped and injured in the countless wrecked buildings.
The situation in Singapore was verging on the apocalyptic. To continue the fight would be pointless, they argued, prompting Percival, who now had the final say, to produce General Yamashita’s latest missive.
By now Bennett was back on message.
“Silently and sadly we decided to surrender,” he said.
With the unanimous agreement of all those in the room, Percival decided to seek a cessation of hostilities in the middle of the afternoon and to invite a Japanese deputation to visit the city to negotiate the terms of capitulation. With this in mind it was further agreed that representatives of the military and civilian authorities should visit the enemy lines as soon as possible to discuss the proposed ceasefire.
Brigadier TK Newbigging, the Colonial Secretary Hugh Fraser and Major Wild, who was fluent in Japanese, drew the short straw and were sent on their way. They would ask for hostilities to end at precisely 3.30pm and that the surrender should be unconditional, allowing some Allied troops to remain under arms in the city to preserve order.
As the small delegation drove up Bukit Timah Road they met an Allied roadblock which marked the frontline. Uncertain of who they were or where they were going, a British officer pushed a revolver into Newbigging’s chest, but quickly withdrew the gun when the situation was explained to him. The three men got out of the car, taking a white flag and a Union Flag with them, then proceeded to walk several hundred metres into enemy territory.
After a Japanese patrol removed their pistols they were escorted to a small villa where they delivered Percival’s letter seeking a cessation of hostilities. Initially the senior Japanese officer, Colonel Ichiji Sugita, was taken aback by the arrival of the British representatives. Many years later he revealed in the British television series, The World At War, that the Japanese had almost run out of ammunition and were seriously considering pulling back their troops to the mainland.
The Japanese were also unimpressed by the Allies’ demand to see Yamashita himself and subsequently handed over their own typewritten document which requested Percival’s attendance at Bukit Timah at a time to be agreed to meet Yamashita personally.
As the delegation moved to return to British lines, Colonel Sugita gave them a large Japanese flag with the instructions to hang it from the top of the Cathay Building as a signal that Percival was prepared to accept the conditions.
At precisely 3.02pm the GOC Malaya sent a message to General Archibald Wavell, Supreme Commander South West Pacific, confirming that the fighting would officially end at 8.30pm.
“Owing to losses from enemy action, water, petrol, food and communication practically finished. Unable therefore to continue the fight any longer. All ranks have done their best and grateful for your help.”
Thus in little more than 70 days the entire might of the British, Australian, Indian and Malay forces had been brought to their knees.
Clearly in need of a tipple to drown his sorrows, Percival headed for the Singapore Club to share a whisky and soda with Shenton Thomas, who was politely told he was no longer Governor.
A few hours later at 9pm hundreds of civilians and many wounded servicemen attended evening service at St Andrew’s Cathedral in the centre of town. The first hymn to be sung was “Oh God our help in ages past.”
Bennett was not among them. He had more on his mind than asking for heavenly support, preferring the company of his own men to spiritual sustenance.
Curiously, although he was aware of the official surrender, he had not been informed of an earlier message from Wavell that expressing the view that opportunities should be given for escape.
Of course the commander of 8th Division did not need any encouragement in that direction, given his plans to join fellow officers Charles Moses and Gordon Walker on the first available boat out of Singapore.
Bennett discussed the question of escape with his senior commanders but issued an order to all units to remain at their posts and concentrate at 8.30am the following day. The thinking behind this strategy was that any large-scale escape attempt could result in confusion and slaughter, so it was agreed that the Australians should be kept together and sentries posted.
Perhaps Bennett’s conscience was pricked, but for whatever reason he decided to address the welfare of his men. After talking to his lieutenant colonels, he made arrangements for all his soldiers to be given fresh clothing, new boots and two days’ rations.
He also demanded that a complete nominal roll of every man be compiled and handed over to the enemy with instructions for it to be communicated to Australia as soon as possible to ease the concerns of worried families back home.
These were caring gestures and helped to reinforce the view that Bennett had his troops’ best interests at heart. Whether this was done to enhance his image once his escape became known, is impossible to say, but for whatever reason he was clearly keen to be seen to be doing the right thing.
Interestingly Bennett’s account of that final day in Singapore differs slightly, according to which version of his diary you read.
There is his book, Why Singapore Fell, which was published in 1944. There is an arguably more embellished record given to his official biographer Frank Legg, whose book was published in 1965. And there is the typewritten, draft memoir, produced by Bennett which is held by the Mitchell Library in Sydney. Sadly this last document is not dated so it is impossible to say how soon it was written after his escape.
In this paper, with its handwritten corrections and amendments, he writes more candidly about what he saw and discussed that day. He talks about passing through the unit lines where he found the men still full of fight. When he mentioned the word surrender they took it badly.
“Some of these tall, manly men wept at the idea. It was a sad parting.”
Later, Bennett revealed that he passed the word around that escape was permitted, only after and not before, the cessation of hostilities.
“Numbers of officers and men then organised themselves into groups and were seen putting together packs containing food and water, clothing and equipment suitable for escape.”
These comments conflict with the official view made in Lionel Wigmore’s Japanese Thrust, that large-escape was not to be permitted. Or was Bennett’s unofficial approval merely directed at the officer class? Crucially, was he excusing his own actions in advance?
His initial version of events also makes no mention of the fact he was actively considering escape some days before capitulation. Instead he maintains that he called Moses and Walker and told them it was his decision to escape under the cover of darkness “after the surrender had been completed”.
Significantly he crosses out the phrase “all arrangements for,” as in “after all arrangements for the surrender had been completed,” suggesting that he did not want to admit he had considered escaping before the surrender time itself.
This might be seen as a nitpicking observation, but given the subsequent legal debate, the inclusion of those three words could have had a bearing on his case.
In all three versions Bennett describes how he received confirmation of the ceasefire time, which would be 8.30pm and how he then gave detailed instructions allocating assembly positions where arms could be dumped.
At 8pm Bennett recorded that he received a message from one of his units that the enemy opposite the front was singing, cheering and shouting excitedly. What should they do if the enemy ran amok?
The unit was told that as the ceasefire did not begin until 8.30pm they could take severe action to check any Japanese advance
About this time Moses arrived on the scene to report that he was negotiating with a Chinese for a boat, so that they could either make direct for Sumatra or move around the island and sail up the Malayan coast to Malacca.
“Meanwhile, I moved among my senior staff, telling them of my intentions to escape, so that I could get back to Australia and tell the detailed story, passing on lessons we had learned during the last few weeks and also making requests to help in the ultimate relief of our grand army of brave men,” he said.
“They realised the risk and the difficulties ahead of the venture.”
In his own account of the escape in Why Singapore Fell, Bennett recalled he told Moses that he would be ready some time after 10.30pm and that if the Japanese approached before he had finished his work he would hide himself so that he would not be captured. Was mention of the time designed to emphasise he left well after the signing of the surrender document?
The timing of his escape is also recorded in Frank Legg’s official biography, in which Bennett recalls how Moses and Walker returned with their Chinese guide to lead them to their boat.
“ It was well after 10pm that I said a sad farewell to all my friends, most of whom I had known well in civil life,” he stated.
In a more reflective mood, Bennett would confide in his wartime memoir how the hopes and optimistic ambitions of his men had been shattered.
“Our individual efforts had been successful. Yet for some unknown reason they had lost the fight. It was not unlike the case of a man in a race who has thought he was winning, leading all the way, but who finds the judge’s decision against him.”
Bennett also went into greater detail about his discussions with senior officers about the possibility of escape, urging them to go ahead and make a run for it. He shared his own views and explained the best ways of doing it.
All agreed that it would be a hazardous journey with the likelihood of heavy casualties, although a number had banded together into escape groups and equipped themselves accordingly.
“I personally had made this decision some time previously, having decided that I would not fall into Japanese hands,” he made clear.
“My decision was fortified by the resolve that I must at all costs return to Australia to tell our people the story of our conflict with the Japanese, to warn them of the danger to Australia, and to advise them of the best means of defeating the Japanese tactics.”
The fact that others had already left the island and had either got back to or were heading to Australia might not sit comfortably in the narrative of a leader who believed only he could provide the necessary insight. Come what may Bennett was eager to put his own spin on his escape.
Before his departure Bennett handed over the 8th Division to Brigadier Cecil Callaghan, his next senior officer.
On returning to his room, Bennett packed for a jungle trek, assuming that he would have to tramp a few hundred kilometres north to Malacca or Port Dickson.
Outside, Major Moses waited with Bennett’s car, ready to make a swift getaway. Also there was Gordon Walker and the Chinese guide who was to lead them to a boat, or so they hoped.
Bennett was now officially an escapee — or as many would later describe him a deserter.
“Passing through the deserted streets, crashing in the darkness through shell holes, we made for the coast near Kallang Airport,” he told Legg.
After much difficulty they reached the waterfront only to learn that several Japanese officers were nearby. More alarmingly they also discovered that the promised boat was nowhere to be found.
Bennett thanked the Chinaman for his efforts and gave him the keys to his car, carefully removing the AIF registration plate and dropping it into the water.
What next, they pondered. Beyond the jetty there were several sampans tied up across the water. Gordon Walker instinctively knew it was their only chance to escape. Within seconds he had stripped off and dived in, swimming at least 200 yards out to sea to secure one of the small craft.
As it happened most of them were totally unsuitable for a lengthy voyage, given they could only be manipulated by one oar and a short paddle.
Then a breakthrough. Walker found a sampan that he could just about handle, rowing it ashore with considerable difficulty against the lapping waves of a receding tide.
The trio tossed in their packs, scrambled aboard and made their way out into the dark yonder, only to be surprised by the sound of shouting from the shore.
Standing on the jetty were eight men who had been serving in the Malayan Volunteers. They were all planters and could speak good English. Bennett couldn’t turn his back on them so turned around and picked them up.
There were now 11 people aboard the small sampan, which was so overcrowded there was no room to work the oars.
“Our progress was slow,” Bennett admitted.
After half an hour of this, the situation looked desperate. We realised that it would be impossible to make sufficient way to clear Singapore before daylight, for it was then about midnight. I visualised the prospect of returning to shore and attempting to be well away from the danger area before daybreak. Then one of the party said that he had heard someone say that day, that it would be possible to secure a tongkan (a large Chinese barge fitted with sails) to go to Sumatra.
“For some time we were bumping into other boats in the darkness; all tempers were frayed and there was much swearing and grumbling.”
Then in what must have seemed like a mirage at the time, a light wooden boat floated towards them from the inky blackness. If any group of men deserved a miracle that night, there were no better candidates than Bennett and his shipmates.
Could this really be happening? Yes. Amazingly they had found the only seaworthy tongkan remaining in Singapore Harbour.
“We scrambled aboard and kicked away the useless sampan with disgust to find the Chinese owner, who was smoking opium, and his crew of two, one Chinese and one Malay,” said Bennett.
Also on board the tongkan were three exhausted British soldiers who had swum two miles to reach it. Later they would be joined by four more.
”We felt that our escape was almost complete,” said Bennett.
“A fair wind took us on our course to the south west, passing close to an island which we knew was occupied by the Japs. It was 1am, February 16. Singapore gradually faded into the distance, the only lights coming from several burning oil tanks. Tired out, we made ourselves as comfortable as we could under the awning that spanned the hold, lying awkwardly in hundreds of rounds of anti-aircraft ammunition.”
The next morning a quick look at the prismatic compass revealed that they were sailing back towards Singapore. Frustrated by the owner and his poor navigational skills, the men forcibly dumped him and his crew in the hold and appointed an American gunner who had, inexplicably, also joined their number, to sail the boat.
There were now a total of 19 people aboard the tongkan, excluding the crew. At last they were on their way to Sumatra. Or at least that was the plan until the Chinese owner shouted up from the hold that they were actually heading into a minefield.
General Gordon Bennett’s seaborne adventure was only just beginning.
* Hero or Deserter? Gordon Bennett and the Tragic Defeat of the 8th Division; Roger Maynard; Penguin Random House; $34.99
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