But Not in Shame by John Toland

Author:John Toland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2016-08-16T16:00:00+00:00

A few minutes later he and Doris Lim were racing along rubble-strewn streets, littered with unburied dead, to the cable office. Here he filed his final message. As they drove to the docks in the fading light, there was a deep rumble. An ammunition dump, McDaniel guessed, had been blown up. Ominous, black clouds were rising from the fuel dumps on the off-coast islands. McDaniel stopped the car, took several pictures.

As McDaniel and the girl reached the docks, Japanese light bombers began to bomb and strafe everything that moved. Sir Robert Scott’s last convoy of refugees was just beginning to move out. It abruptly stopped, hoping for protection from a nearby anti-aircraft battery. At the docks McDaniel explained the situation to Steel and the other officers. They decided first to try and destroy the rows of tanks and cars but a sudden burst of fire from the Kallang airfield less than a mile away discouraged the plan. The breakthrough might come at any moment.

At sunset the Japanese planes left and the Scott convoy slowly headed out of the harbor. The captain of the Kung Wo refused to follow since McDaniel had not brought back definite orders to sail.

“But Admiral Spooner is leaving,” argued McDaniel. The Scotsman shook his head. He was going to wait for orders. “How can you possibly get orders,” said McDaniel, “when there’s no one left to give them?”

The captain, unconvinced, insisted on waiting. A few minutes later they could hear the individual cracks of rifles.

At 11:00 P.M. the Kung Wo was still anchored, in spite of arguments by McDaniel and Steel and almost hysterical threats by some of the crew. The Scotch captain was stolidly signalling shore with blinkers. A few minutes after 11:00 P.M. an answer finally came: THE COMMODORE OF MALAYA HAS LEFT.

Even with this confirmation of McDaniel’s story, the captain was uncertain. He hated to leave without something more definite. After almost an hour of self-debate he reluctantly sounded bells. It was midnight when the old copper-lined steamer slowly headed toward the mine fields.

The ship headed south, threading its way through heavy mine fields and the small islands that hung down from Singapore for more than 100 miles like a string of beads. By dawn, Friday, the thirteenth, the Kung Wo was midway through this “1000 Island” chain.

Even the early sun was sweltering, enervating; in another 25 miles they would cross the equator. There were excited shouts. About 30 miles to their right, the west, the green hilly coast of Sumatra had been sighted. This was the first of a group of Dutch-owned long, thin islands, almost nose to nose, that formed a great barrier of about 3000 miles between the Japanese and Australia. The central and most strategic island in this lengthy barrier was McDaniel’s goal: Java.

Soon they could hear the roar of approaching Japanese planes, dispatched to sink the final flotilla of ships, launches and boats fleeing from Singapore. The skipper of the Kung Wo quickly turned away from Sumatra toward the shelter of one of the “1000 Islands.

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