In Flanders Fields, the Poppies blow.
This is the story of one soldier in the Second World War and his experience on the KAKODA track, a story, he was not allowed to tell. Sadly he passed away sometime agoe, followed shortly after by his wife, Pat. His name was RAY and he carried a heavy amotional load most of his over seventy year life. a,much Medal'd and Braided man. A War veteren of some standing.
In the early 1990's whilst sitting on a bench, in Katoomba, some 130 kilometres west of Sydney I met an old fello, who told me he had witnessed Japanese prisoners being executed by our soldiers, on the Kakoda track, in the second world war. I listened and wondered if it was true. We parted and I never saw him again. The subject lay dormant until I met Ray.
And so to Ray's story. Back in the early part of 2000, I lead a small spiritual group of people from all,ethnic and religious backgrounds. We met once a month , on a Sunday afternoon, an average of thirty souls. We had a lovely lady who played an Organ (softly) . I invited us all to sit quietly for a about a minute, in order that we could come together as ONE. he was always very attentive of my stories both serious and silly. and they always sat on the front row and always on the same seats.
One day he approached me and asked, if we could talk privately and so we went out side and he told me his story, bitter memories and rejection by the RSL.
At first he was hessitant to start, his story of his horrific experience on the Kakoda track. So I briefly told him I had been three airline crashes, numerous civil disturbances,ie caught in cross fire, in a number of Countries. The worst being interrogated by the Viet Min in Saigon, an incident my British Government refused to acknowledge.
Not holding back now, he told me of one day, they had taken some Japanese soldiers prisoners. The officer, told Ray they could not take prisoners. Take them into the 'Bush' and deal with them. Do not forget to bring back their identity TAGS, which he did.
Where were they buried, Ray knew exactly.
For many years he tried to tell his story to the RSL (Returned Servicemens League), but they rejected him and told him to Get Over It and don't mention the subject again.Sadly our brave soldier, suffured most of his life, that is until he met the writer. of this blog.
One sunday, when we were having another privet conversation, he requested I record on tape the poem 'In Flanders Fields' from the first World War, which I did, in order that he could play it each year at Rememberance Day.You see towards the end of his life, could'nt bear to attend the ceremonies on the 11th November, following the 2nd November ' The Retaking of KAKODA' 1942.
About three or four year agoe, I heard ,just once, a news item, about a group of Japanese, visited KAKODA, endeavouring to locate the burial sites of a number of Japanese soldiers, where stories of how they died 'Did Not Quite Gel'. Then silence.
Ray now has his story told. As I always say, my blogs are stories, based on facts,as I remember them.
In flanders Fields, the Poppies blow,
Between the Crosses row by row,
That mark our place, and in the sky,
The Larks, still bravely singing fly,
Scarce heard amid the guns below,
We are dead short days agoe
The Poem continues, on the page that Ray gave me , so long agoe. Iam looking at that page,right with the marks of the verses,he wanted me to record.
Your story. It is done Ray my friend. I was not invited to your funeral, I think because, no one knew of our special friendship,outside of that small Spiritiual Group.
Kindest thoughts to all like you, on Rememberance Day
Malcolm E Mason November 1, 2020.
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