Public works building at Parit-Sulong The site of a Massacre of Australian Soldiers from the 8th Division after the battle of Muar

v The historian Lynette Silvers wrote the following information in a press release post excavation of the site.

(She has a web site on the books on she has written on this and other important Australian WW11 stories)http://lynettesilver.com/

 

In January 1942, as the Japanese pushed the Allied army down the Malay peninsula, two under-strength Australian infantry battalions (the 2/19th and 2/29th), some gunners from 2/15th Field and 4 Anti-tank Regiments, and a depleted Indian Army contingent held back a vastly superior enemy force of 10,000 crack Japanese Imperial Guards.

 

This epic Muar battle, which prevented the enemy from cutting the line of retreat of the main Allied forces, is one of the most desperate, and least known, fighting retreats of WW2, for which the Australian commander, Lieutenant-Charles Anderson, was awarded a Victoria Cross.

 

After four days of relentless combat, the defenders reached the bridge at the village of Parit Sulong, only to find it in Japanese hands. With no hope of relief, and refusing to consider surrender, Anderson gave the order 'every man for himself'. Left behind in trucks at the bridge were the very badly wounded – 110 Australian and 35 Indian soldiers, all expecting Red Cross protection. This was not to be, and what followed was one of the most infamous massacres of the war.

 

The massacre

It was not until mid-afternoon that the enemy, advancing cautiously through the ruined village, reached the convoy. Shouting and yelling, they forced the injured from the vehicles and across a parit (drainage ditch) to the front of a Public Works Department (PWD) accommodation block. Anyone who lagged behind was belted with rifle butts, kicked, bayoneted, or shot.

 

Stripped of their clothing, the prisoners huddled together, while the Japanese searched their belongings. However, the sight of naked white men attracted the attention of passing enemy troops, some of whom broke ranks to kick, punch and prod the captives with bayonets. An officer singled out one prisoner for 'execution' by the sword, only to abort his downswing, just short of his terrified victim's neck. A badly wounded Indian, whose cries and moans irritated his captors, was also bayoneted, and forcibly drowned in the nearby, water-filled parit.

 

The searches over, the prisoners were ordered to dress. Now clad in whatever they could grab, they were herded at bayonet point into a small garage adjoining the PWD block. The Japanese paid no heed to screams of the badly wounded, and several died of suffocation before the group was moved to two rooms at the end of the PWD block.

 

Just before sunset, each prisoner's hands were tied with a length of rope, which was then passed around his neck and secured to the next prisoner. Anyone who could not stay upright was cut from the line, bashed or bayoneted, and left for dead. When the rope ran out, the Japanese used lengths of signal wire until that too, was exhausted, leaving the last twenty or so prisoners unsecured.

 

They were then forcibly moved in groups around the far end of the building and machine-gunned. Bodies of those who had been cut from the line, or died previously, were added to the pile of the dead and dying. Dousing them with petrol, the Japanese then set them alight, in a futile attempt to destroy the evidence of their crime.

 

Post-war, not a single trace of any of these victims was found. As the Japanese claimed that they had been cremated, no further investigation in regard to the remains was ever undertaken.

 

Although all physical evidence of the massacre had 'vanished', the Japanese responsible did not escape retribution. Two Australians survived not only the carnage, but also the war. However, 18-year-old Reg Wharton, one of those left untied, was so traumatised that he never spoke about it. After somehow evading machine-gun bullets, he had rolled free of the flames before finally diving into a parit, where he remained hidden. The other long-term survivor was Lieutenant Ben Hackney; who became the prosecution's prime witness in a war crimes trial held in 1950.

 

Hackney's survival was miraculous. Trussed and tied, and unable to stand on badly injured legs, he had been cut from the line, bayoneted repeatedly and left for dead. Lying undetected in the shadow of the garage, he had witnessed everything that occurred before managing to free himself and hide in the jungle. Five weeks later, he was recaptured. As he was escorted from the Parit Sulong Police station and across the killing field to the local Japanese headquarters, a short distance away, he was surprised to see no evidence at all of the slaughter that had occurred such a short time previously. At war's end, after enduring the horrors of the Burma-Thai railway, Hackney returned to Australia. His compelling evidence ensured that General Nishimura Takuma, the officer who had issued the orders to kill the prisoners, was hanged at Manus Island in 1951.

 

The search for remains:

What became of the remains of the murdered Allied soldiers was not questioned until 1998, when I began in-depth research into the Muar battle and the subsequent massacre for my book 'The Bridge at Parit Sulong'. Even then, the stories were conflicting.

 

One Japanese interrogated post-war stated that he believed the bodies had been thrown into the river – a method of disposal considered unlikely due to the distance and effort required. Other Japanese, involved in the fighting at Parit Sulong, claimed that the remains had been cremated. This story, told to Australian officers in Changi, was strengthened by the post-war discovery of charred bones buried further along the road (actually those of Indian troops, killed during the fighting and cremated several months after the battle). Such 'evidence' not only gave credence to the Japanese claim. It also ensured that no further searches were conducted.

 

There is no doubt that the bodies were doused in petrol and set on fire. However, once the fuel burnt off, the fire went out. The Japanese then left, leaving final disposal until the next morning. There was no further cremation. The Japanese had neither the fuel, nor the time to cremate such a large number of bodies. Furthermore, there was a witness - Hackney, who was still in hiding only a short distance away.

 

The first inkling that the corpses had not been cremated was not until the late 1990s, when the daughter of a villager told an Australian, Paul Wright, that her father had been forced to untie the bodies and drag them to a nearby 'burial pit'. A new element was added to the investigation when, on a visit to Parit Sulong in 2003, I learned that, during the upgrading of the bridge, a number of human femurs had been unearthed on the river bank.

 

Following the publication of my book in 2004, I began a campaign to have a memorial erected, and to press for an official investigation to establish if a mass grave existed at the site. With the support of the Office of Australian War Graves, I was invited to address an expert panel to argue my case. The panel concluded that, although it was possible that the remains may have disposed of in the river, in light of the reported burial further investigation was warranted.

 

To coincide with the unveiling of the memorial in 2007, an official announcement was made by the Army History Unit that a search for the remains would be undertaken.

 

The archaeological investigation:

It was not until the end of 2010, following a vigorous review of the evidence, and the discovery of another human bone on the river bank, that the Department of Defence's Unrecovered War Casualties Unit initiated a joint Australian-Malaysia archaeological survey of the site. The following March I joined a team of more than thirty Australian and Malaysian archaeologists, anthropologists, surveyors, geologists, researchers and a forensic dentist to begin an investigation.

 

The entire area was heavily overgrown. Once the foliage was cleared away, the old, silted-up parits, accepted by members of the reviewing panel as the most likely place to dispose of a large number of bodies, were identified by the surveyors. Pre-war archival maps, the PWD block, now a virtual ruin, and the foundations of the adjoining former police station provided excellent reference points. Meantime, a geological team used ground penetrating radar and resistivity testing equipment to search for any sub-subterranean soil disturbance.

 

Several 'hot spots' were identified. The most significant was the old main parit, abandoned long ago but which, in 1942, had widened out to form a large stream before emptying into the river. The excavation itself extended to the virgin clay, to a depth of up to two metres or more. As the mechanical excavators took out each bucket load, the archaeologists and geologists, aided by other members of the party, examined the exposed ground and the spoil for any signs that might indicate that a mass grave had been in that location.

 

Gathering more information:

While the excavations continued at a slow and steady pace, I and and members of the UWC unit interviewed several local people. There were numerous eye witnesses who confirmed previous information that local Chinese and British troops, captured south of the village, had been bayoneted on the bridge and pushed into the river. Although these bodies had floated back and forth on the tide for some days until they eventually sank, no one reported seeing, or had ever heard of, any burnt bodies among them. Based on this evidence, it appeared that, if the massacre victims had been disposed of in the river, the corpses must have disappeared before the villagers returned to what was left of their homes, about three weeks after the battle.

 

As the village was 'out of bounds' for this period, no one interviewed had any first-hand information about the massacre, although some had seen the remains of those killed in battle lying in parits further up the road. We also learned that, about a month after the fighting, the area had been inundated when the Simpang Kiri River, swollen with monsoonal rains, broke its banks to the east of the village. According to one man, the bodies of 'many Australians' lying unburied along the battle zone 'were washed away'. Another villager also reported that, prior to the flood, he had netted human remains while searching for fish in the roadside parits.

 

Local people also revealed that in recent years, when the river was dredged as part of a flood mitigation process, human bones were observed in the silt. It is now believed that the bones found on the river bank are the result of this dredging.

 

A significant discovery.

Crossing the plank spanning the PWD parit to and from the search area in order to interview villagers, I noticed a change in the water level. Further observation revealed that, at each low tide, the parit, which now discharges into the river via an underground pipe, is completely drained of water, leaving a layer of sludge and mud exposed. At high tide, the water is about one metre deep.

 

Since Hackney had reported that after their capture on the afternoon of 22 January, an Indian soldier had been drowned in the parit, I concluded that it must have been close to high tide at that time, as the body disappeared completely beneath the surface. Therefore, with a six-hour tidal change, low tide the next day would have been at around mid-morning, the time of the reported 'burial'. Also, at around this time, Hackney had reported hearing a disturbance at the killing field, from his hiding place in nearby jungle.

 

The results of the search:

The archaeological search was extremely thorough, extending far beyond the actual massacre site.

 

Although our brief was simply to ascertain if there was a mass grave, we had all had been hopeful of a positive result. However, to our great disappointment, three weeks of sifting through tonnes of earth yielded nothing other than bits of rubbish and odd artifacts, none of which was considered to be war-related.

 

Although my husband Neil spent many hours running a metal detector over heaps of excavated material, especially near the killing field, and archaeological assistants manually and diligently searched every pile, not a single solitary bullet was found, despite the fact that hundreds of rounds had been expended during the massacre.

 

Indeed, the most remarkable feature of the excavation was that there was nothing at all to indicate that the area had been subjected to fierce fighting, or that large numbers of Allied troops and civilians had been killed there. Malaysian archaeologist, Dr Stephen Chia, remarked that he had never excavated a site with such potential, that had yielded not a single archaeological find of any significance.

 

Interestingly, an Australian army officer who examined the area in 1945, following the cessation of hostilities, had noted this same phenomenon. Despite a search of the entire battle area, his investigating team had found no gear nor any kit lying about.

 

What happened to the remains of the massacred prisoners?

With no grave discovered, an evaluation of the previously known facts, in conjunction with the new information that came to light, is needed in order to form a logical conclusion.

 

1) None of the 145 soldiers left in the convoy at the bridge survived the war, with the exception of Ben Hackney and Reg Wharton

 

2) No remains were ever found anywhere near the killing field.

 

3) The Japanese claimed the bodies had been cremated. Another believed they had been thrown into the river. A local woman claimed that her father and other villagers had been forced to untie the bodies and drag them to a burial pit.

 

4) Although bodies of Chinese and British troops captured south of the village were observed floating in the river, no one saw any that were burnt.

 

5) There was no sign of any grave, bodies or military kit when Hackney walked past the killing field, five weeks after the massacre, or when investigators arrived in late 1945.

 

6) Local people confirmed that that area of Parit Sulong floods on a regular basis, and floodwater inundated the area shortly after the battle.

 

7) Although some human bones were netted from the roadside parits along the battle line, after the flood they were no longer in evidence.

 

8) The bodies were reportedly dragged from the massacre site to a nearby burial pit mid- morning of 23 January. As it was low tide, the parits were empty.

 

 

Conclusion:

Based on the available evidence, it seems that there is an element of truth in each of the methods of disposal claimed over the years – cremation, burial and in the river.

 

The bodies were doused in fuel and set on fire. However, with cremation very incomplete, the following morning local people were forced to drag them into a nearby burial pit. Yet, we found no trace of this grave.

 

It is known that the Japanese, who rarely dug a grave to bury their victims, made use of shell holes, slit trenches, wells, ditches and monsoon drains. At ParitSulong, on the morning of 23 January, the large main parit, drained of water at low tide, would have been the most convenient method of disposal.

 

It is possible that the bodies were then covered in mud or silt. However, as the Japanese officer in charge of the disposal did not arrive at Divisional Headquarters at nearby Batu Pahat until 7 pm, it is likely that, late that afternoon, many of the corpses were floated into the river on the outgoing tide, possibly with the help of bamboo poles. The remainder would have been flushed out over the next few days by either monsoonal rains or the tide. By the time the local people returned to the village, all trace of the massacre victims would have disappeared.

 

Any remains, still lying in the mud, along with any gear and equipment, would have been swept away by storm water and/or the subsequent floodwaters that inundated the area. This scouring would also account for the total lack of any equipment, when the investigating team arrived at the village at the end of the war, and why Hackney saw no sign of the massacre as he passed by the killing field, a mere five weeks later.

 

Mother Nature had done her job well.

 

A final tribute:

With the investigation complete and everything that had been unearthed photographed and logged, the excavated areas were filled in.

 

During the three-week search period, a number of villagers had maintained a close watch on the entire proceedings, which they now regarded in a very positive light. With the compacted soil turned over to a depth of more than two metres across a vast expanse, what had been a useless wasteland could now be turned into a productive agricultural area, suitable for growing vegetables, fruit trees and other crops.

 

One local man had visited the site each day. Greatly moved by the story of Hackney and his comrades, he created a small garden at the rear of the PWD buildings, which he named 'Hackney Garden'. As a further tribute, the village headman agreed to name the small road leading to the site, Hackney Lane.

 

The expedition concluded with a simple ceremony, on the the bridge spanning the Simpang Kiri River, whose waters had become a final resting place for so many. The Ode was recited for all those who had lost their lives and Flanders poppies dropped from the parapet in their memory. As the blood-red blooms floated away on the outgoing tide, we stood in silence, reflecting on the tragic events that had taken place at the bridge at Parit Sulong, on 22 January 1942.

 

Done