The Lisbon Maru
The Lisbon Maru, a Japanese transport ship, left Hong Kong on 27 September 1942 with 1816 prisoners of war and some Japanese troops aboard. The prisoners, Butler among them, were accommodated in three holds. No. 1 hold forward consisted of Royal Navy and a few troops; No. 2 hold amidships consisted of 1150 officers and men of the 2nd Battalion Royal Scots, 1st Battalion Middlesex Regiment, Royal Corps of Signals (to which Butler belonged), Royal Engineers and a few Artillery (under the command of Lieutenant Colonel H. W. M. Stewart); and No. 3 hold, adjoining No. 2, consisted of Royal Artillery personnel. The ship was armed with guns fore and aft and had a small armed force for custody of the prisoners.
Butler remembers the first few days as uneventful. The weather was good although there were complaints about the lack of exercise and time on deck, difficulties over drawing water and lack of sufficient latrine accommodation. The food was good and cigarettes were issued.
Shortly after 7 am on 1 October, an explosion shook the ship, coming from the stern. Butler recalls the Japanese troops in pandemonium and both guns came into action. The prisoners were ordered to remain below.
In No. 2 hold, the men were uncertain about exactly what had happened; the engines had stopped but there was no apparent list. The men remained calm at their places and joked about rescue at sea. After a short time, the firing ceased and the noise on deck quietened. The men began to think about breakfast, which was not forthcoming, and in fact no further food was issued on the Lisbon Maru. The day dragged on and a Japanese plane circled overhead, but that provided the only relief. There was much difficulty over the calls of nature, as the latrines were on deck and at first no receptacles of any sort were available in the holds. As many men were suffering from diarrhoea, conditions became rapidly unbearable. Finally, after repeated requests, the Japanese passed down two old petrol cans for 1150 men, but no one was permitted to go on deck. It was impossible to empty them and they were soon overflowing. There was also an acute shortage of water. The Japanese finally passed down two buckets of soiled water but it was almost undrinkable.
At 7.30 pm a ship came alongside. It seemed to Butler and the other prisoners that she tried to take the Lisbon Maru in tow, but failed. Immediately afterwards, the Japanese troops were seen to embark on the rescue ship and at this point the holds were closed and battened down. Tarpaulins were secured over the hatches leaving the men in pitch darkness and with no ventilation. Soon afterwards the rescue ship was heard to cast off and leave the Lisbon Maru. It became obvious that all was not well. No. 3 hold got in touch with Colonel Stewart by tapping Morse code on the bulkhead to say that they were manning pumps but without much success. No. 1 hold reported that they were battened and the heat was bad.
As time went on, conditions grew worse. An ominous creaking was heard as if the ship's ribs were being squeezed, and there was a continuous banging, which seemed to come from loose objects floating in the flooded compartments. The heat in Butler’s hold was stifling and everyone was having great difficulty with the latrine situation. No. 1 hold reported that one man had died and several men had collapsed at the pumps in No. 3 hold for want of air.
Colonel Stewart attempted repeatedly to get in touch with the Japanese, and Lieutenant Potter of the St. John's Ambulance, a Japanese interpreter, spoke to the armed sentries mounted at the companionway, but they refused to pass any messages. The ship was now listing considerably and it seemed as if she would sink with the prisoners battened down in her holds. ‘Like rats,’ said Butler.
At about 8.30 am the following morning, the ship gave a perceptible lurch. Blankets and personal belongings slid to the side of the ship and water poured into the hold. Colonel Stewart continued to ask the guards to uncover the hatches but was told that they could not be removed until midday. At 9.00 am, the Colonel realised that it was only a matter of minutes before the ship sank and gave the order for the hold to be broken. Lieutenant Howell, of the Signals Corps, armed with a butcher’s knife, cut open the covers and got onto the deck followed by a few men. In spite of being shot at and one or two men being hit, including Lieutenant Potter, who was killed, Howell opened up an exit sufficient for the remainder of the men to leave the hold.
The sea began to pour into the holds as the men climbed out and many of them were washed back into the bottom of the hold. Butler described the escape:
'Although our first feeling on reaching deck was one of relief at the fresh air and daylight, and at the presence of ships and land within sight, our troubles were by no means over. Many of the men did not immediately leave the ship when the order was given, some having no lifebelts, and others appeared utterly unconcerned at the danger – the ship had come to rest on a sandbank with its bows in the air. Many of the men went down with the ship when it made its final plunge.
'I saw John Scully walking about with his life belt unfastened. He was very weak, having had a bad dose of dysentery. I went to him and fastened his life belt properly, then went to help put some of the battens over the side so we would have something to hold on to when we left the ship. I turned round to help John and he was nowhere to be seen. I never saw him again. Vernon Talks was very reluctant to go over the side because he could not swim. I took off my lifebelt and put it on him, and helped him over the side, then followed him.'
The order was given to abandon ship. The sea was soon dotted with heads. Some men were swimming, some holding onto driftwood, the wooden latrines, ladders or anything that would float, making for a group of small patrol vessels that were lying a few miles off or to some islands about eight miles away.
Most of those who could swim made for the Japanese ships, expecting to be taken aboard at once. However, they were shot at in the water and knocked off ropes as they tried to clamber aboard. The Japanese drove the ships to wherever there were groups of men in the water, upsetting men on rafts and threatening them with the propellers. Butler, when he saw what was happening, swam for the islands, finally being picked up by a Chinese sampan about half a mile from land.
It was not until after midday that the Japanese appeared to alter their decision and allow those who had the strength to do so to climb up the ropes hanging from the ships. By this time however, many had started for the islands or had been drowned. On seeing that men were being taken aboard the ships, several turned back and were eventually successful in reaching the boats and in dragging themselves aboard. Those swimming for the islands made steady progress. But as they approached, two dangers became apparent. The first was a very strong cross current, which swept the weaker swimmers past the shore and out to sea, and the second was an exceptionally steep and rocky coastline, which made landing very difficult. Though many reached the islands, comparatively few managed to land. The majority, who did, Butler among them, owe their lives to the Chinese fishermen who picked them up out of the water.
An officer who was swept out to sea and not rescued until nearly midnight stated that hundreds of bodies floated past him. Those who succeeded in landing on the island received a warm welcome from the Chinese, who fed and clothed them as best they could, and did all that their limited means would allow to make those rescued feel comfortable. They even offered to assist would-be escapees and in fact succeeded in getting at least one prisoner to freedom. The large numbers and the weakened condition of the majority precluded any large-scale attempt at escape.
An amusing story is told of one man, who was taken to the village where he was confronted by a man clad in Chinese quilted clothing, whom he took to be the head of the village. After a few moments’ conversation, he complimented the latter on his command of English. 'You speak English very fluently," he remarked. 'So I should,' was the reply. 'I am Lieutenant – and I am off the Lisbon Maru too!'
On 3 and 4 October, survivors were collected and transferred from the islands to the two Japanese patrol ships that remained in the vicinity. Conditions became more and more crowded as additional men were taken aboard until eventually there was scarcely room on deck to sit down, let alone stretch their legs. Nearly all of them, moreover, were scantily clad and the nights were bitterly cold. Under these conditions, sleep was impossible and the nights that followed the rescue were a nightmare. More than one man died of exposure and was buried at sea.
The ships were not equipped for these large numbers and the only food provided was an issue twice daily of two biscuits and a cigarette tin of warm powdered milk. After two days during which they had no food at all, their hunger became overpowering. On 5 October, the survivors were landed at Woosung[i]. Of the 1816 that had embarked on the Lisbon Maru, only 900 remained.
Other accounts of the Sinking of the Lisbon Maru:
Maynard Skinner's Account
Monty Truscott's Account
Research Notes by Vic Ient
See more at:
http://www.lisbonmaru.com/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lisbon_Maru
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