Trial by Battle by David Piper

Author:David Piper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Historical / World War II
Publisher: Imperial War Museum
Published: 2019-05-09T00:00:00+00:00

FIVE

THAT SAME NIGHT, some one hundred and forty miles north of them, the Japanese tanks skittled eighteen miles through the carefully prepared British position at Slim River. The rumours of setback that reached Malacca in the course of the day hardened into news of catastrophe: yet another, and extremely comprehensive, skilful withdrawal was taking place. Late in the evening Holl viewed a map sourly, and commented that he couldn’t see a line that anyone could hope to hold before the line Muar-Segamat-Mersing.

‘Which,’ said Holl, sourly, ‘is twenty miles south of us. Twenty flipping miles behind where we now are.’

Yet a curious unreal peace held through Malacca for the next few days; the battalion sweated at martial exercises, dealt vainly with various alarms that all proved unfounded, and prepared at least three defensive positions. Then the forward troops began to come back through them in driblets, by night mostly, like ghosts or at best like embodied rumours, while the names of evacuated towns sounded ever nearer down the peninsula. But nothing seemed to disturb the depths of the strange calm of the coast that was suddenly only a quarter inhabited. One company was always in the town, to prevent looting, but hardly anything happened; few aeroplanes were seen, and there was hardly any direct attack from the air and none at all on Alan’s battalion, which assumed in the flux an odd stability. Odd officers and groups of troops were always passing through and stopping off, storytelling in tired, strained voices with a matter-of-factness that carried only a dreamlike conviction. Presently one would wake up.

One hot afternoon a green-and-yellow camouflaged estate wagon came in fast up to the Battalion Headquarters, and an officer got out, a major from a British infantry unit, hatless, with a dry and dirty stubble. He demanded a bathroom. Alan was able to offer him this, and having installed him he came out again and was looking idly at the officer’s car, which was somehow unusual. He realised that it had a great many small holes in it. He could not help putting a finger in one of the holes, and as he did so, he looked up at the sky involuntarily, and shivered.

A little later Holl appeared with another officer, an elegant, dandiacal creature with pressed shirt and shorts, and ankle puttees welded above dapper boots; he had a face as sharp as a racing prow, and he spoke with the precise, clipped authority of highly disciplined automatic fire. With a shock, Alan realised that this was the major who had gone in to bathe, emerged as from a chrysalis.

‘A pretty contrast,’ the major was saying, waving a hand at some of the battalion’s trucks that stood by, dispersed under trees; their yellow desert camouflage looked bright and gay against the deep green of the foliage. ‘Very preh-tty! I take it you were bound for the desert, but were–ah –interrupted. Let’s see. You landed when?’

‘Eleven days ago,’ said Holl. ‘Sir.’

The major turned to look at him. ‘Ah.

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