This is a story which I’m sure will touch your heart as it has mine so many times. It is an account of a young soldier in a Japanese POW camp in the last days of his life before his death.
May it help to bring home to all of us – these many years later, what it was like in so many of the POW camps across the Far East from day to day during those 3 1/2 terrible years, and what it cost to give us the freedom we have today.
This is a true story - told by a chaplain officer of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlander Reg’t. in one of the camps in Thailand. Of all the stories I have heard over the past years, this one is very special.
The officer begins:
I was walking back to my hut one evening when a medical orderly stopped me.
“There's an Argyll who'd like to see you. He's just a young lad and he has gangrene. There's nothing we can do. He's dying.”
The long hut to which the orderly led me was crowded with new arrivals. We made our way down the sleeping platforms and stopped before a motionless figure. My heart constricted. The dim light accentuated the boy's youth and his loneliness.
Badge of the 2nd Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders
“Here he is lad.” said the orderly softly. “I've brought him to see you.”
Large, frightened eyes stared up at me from an emaciated face. “Oh I'm so glad to see you, sir. You probably don't know me. I arrived with the last draft.”
“I've been so lonely. I don't know anyone here. It's been a long time since I've seen an Argyll.”
“Well, you're looking at one now,” I said smiling. “And there are others. You'll find friends here.” I sat down on the edge of his sleeping platform.
POW 's drawings - 'The Hospital Hut'
He looked at me and gasped. “I'm scared. I'm so scared at times that I can hardly think.”
“What are you scared of?” I asked him.
“All kinds of things. I'm scared of the Japs – and scared that I'm going to die.”
What could I say? I knew that he hadn't a chance because of the advanced nature of his gangrene. I looked at him lying there so lonely and so young, and said the only thing I could think of. “We'll help you not to be afraid. We'll stay by you.”
That seemed to ease his mind and he smiled. I got up and said, “Go to sleep now. I'll look in on you tomorrow.”
I did what I could for him over the next days, but it hurt because it was so little. I made sure that the lad had a steady chain of visitors so that he did not spend too many hours alone. A few nights later when I went to see him he looked relaxed and almost cheerful.
“How are things tonight,” I asked.
“Not too bad.” he said, “You've no idea what a help it is to have friends. I don't feel lonely any more. And I'm not scared.” Then, very softly he said, “I'm going to die aren't I?”
I cleared my throat, searching for words. I did not answer. A frown of worry wrinkled his forehead as he looked at me and said…
“My mum and dad will miss me. I'm the only one they've got and they'll be so lonely when I don't come back.” He sighed, “It's tough to be young and have to die. I don't even know what this war is all about.”
I opened my bible and in the dim light of the hut I began to read those words that had comforted countless souls before him, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”
I looked over at him. His grey eyes were far away, listening within himself to the message those words had brought.
He looked at me and said with perfect calm, “Everything is going to be all right.”
Two evenings later as I was going to see him again, I saw the orderly running towards me. “Come quickly,” he cried, “he hasn't long to go.”
Together we ran. The boy was lying without moving. “Hello son,” I said. At the sound of my voice he turned towards me.
“Hello sir, I'm so glad you're here.”
I knelt down beside him. The yellow glow from a coconut oil lamp lit the darkness behind me.
“Light!” the boy said, “It's good to have light. I don't like the dark. It's all right, I'm glad it's all right.”
“Yes son, it's all right,” I assured him. “God our Father is with us, He is very near.”
“I know He is.” he said.
The flame of the lamp spluttered and almost went out, then seemed to burn more brightly. The boy's breath started coming in great sobbing gasps. Then they ceased. He was quiet – with the quietness of death.
“Father,” I prayed, “Receive this dear child. Welcome him with thy love, for the sake of Jesus Christ, Our Lord. Amen.”
I put his hand down by his side, smoothed his hair, and wiped from his forehead one of my tears. Then slowly I got up and walked away - out into the darkness of the night.
“Dying for freedom isn’t the worst thing that can happen. Being forgotten is.”
MAY WE NEVER FORGET !