Some of the guards at Changi were Korean. Their Asian appearance had the Australians thinking they were Japanese, but the difference soon became apparent. The Koreans were bigger physically and packed a much harder wallop.
The Japanese were contemptuous of the Koreans and would punish them for little reason. Unable to retaliate, the Koreans took it out on the prisoners.
Their viciousness earned them nicknames. The most sadistic was called BB (for Boy Bastard), whose sadism was almost matched by BBC (Boy Bastard’s Cobber).
The one called Dillinger had all the evil of the American gangster. He killed a prisoner by taking him outside the camp on some pretext and then shooting him, claiming he had been trying to escape. The dead man’s mates knew it was murder, but they could do nothing about it.
Another Korean was called the Storm Trooper. Built like an ox, he could have shown his Nazi namesakes a thing or two about cruelty.
The prisoners regarded this foursome as the worst of the Korean guards, though others ran them pretty close. Rubber Chewer was given his name because when annoyed, he would grab a fistful of leaves from a rubber tree and chew them. Wart Eye’s tag was a naturalhe had masses of warts around his eyes. Blubber Lips’ thick protruding lips flapped when he spoke, and Chindegar Jim was a runt who’d trade chindegar, a sweet substance made from the dried sap of the goola malacca tree, for a cup of burnt rice coffee.
The Australians had a reason for not calling any guard Ned Kelly. They said that bushranger Ned was a gentleman compared with this lot.
The Koreans were ever on the lookout for an excuse to inflict punishment. One of their favourite tactics was to sneak up on a work party, catch it unawares, and then bash the men because they didn’t bow to them.
To counter this, a warning system was developed. If someone called out ‘Red light, BB’, it meant Boy Bastard was around. ‘Red light, Storm Trooper’ meant there was another very good reason to be wary. The warning relied on the belief that none of the Koreans spoke English. A few had a smattering of the language but pretended they didn’t, hoping a prisoner would say something that would be worth a beating.
Anything of value the Australians had finished up in Korean pockets, traded for food, tobacco or money. As the men grew more hungry, items of great sentimental value such as going-away presents from their community back home were traded or sold. Watches and rings couldn’t be eaten, but money obtained in this way was sneaked outside the wire and used to buy some morsel of food from the natives.
Always on the lookout for something to eat, Jim and Sol were in a woodcutting party pulling an old truck chassis loaded with timber when they heard animal squeals and grunts coming from some ramshackle buildings on a hill behind a stand of tall bamboo.
Jim couldn’t believe his ears. ‘Bloody pigs. I can hear bloody pigs. And pigs on the hoof mean roast pork and ham.’
Sol swallowed his drool. ‘A pork chop would go down very nicely, thank you.’
It started Jim thinking. ‘We could grab a porker if we got under the wire at night.’
‘How do we get a live pig back under the wire into the compound?’
‘Not under the wire. Over it. We’d have two blokes inside. The pig would be tossed to them. They’d catch it. The two who pinched it would sneak back under the wire.’
He took his idea back to the compound where his hungry mates were all in favour. Jim and fellow Queenslander Snowy Baker were appointed to commit the thievery, while Victorians Bill Haley and Sol would be the catchers.
Sol, the Aussie Rules player, was warned not to drop the pass.
‘I’ll be careful,’ he said. ‘The umpires might award a free kick.’
The night of the pig heist was dark. After the guards had made their two-hourly patrol, Jim and Snowy crawled under the wire. To get to the cover of the bamboo in front of the pigsty, they’d have to cross open ground that had only a few stumps and fallen branches for cover. That meant chancing being seen by the guards at a second compound that had been built separate from the main prison to hold those awaiting execution.
Dodging and weaving among the limited cover, the pair made it to the bamboo undetected. A gap in the clump of greenery was used by workers to get to the pigsty. The plan was for Snowy to wait there while Jim pilfered a pig, brought it back and tossed it to him. Snow would catch the pig, sneak it back to the prison and toss it over the wire to the waiting pair in the compound.
‘Who said pigs can’t fly’, Snowy grinned.
Clutching the thick iron bar he’d christened his pig donger, Jim crawled towards the buildings, which were silent now. The pigs must be asleep. In the first pen, he saw fat porkers lying in the mud and manure. He rejected them as too big and heavy to carry. In another pen were several younger, smaller pigs. These would be more manageable. They woke when he crawled among them, but made no objection. It crossed Jim’s mind that if pigs didn’t object when he was near them, he could do with a good wash.
He slithered around before cornering a plump young porker. It got to its feet, seemingly stunned by the presence of a muck-covered human in its territory at night. It was stunned even further when Jim delivered a whack behind the ear with his pig donger.
With the unconscious pig cradled in his arms, he staggered back to the bamboo clump.
‘Catch this’, he whispered, throwing the pig through the gap to where Snowy waited.
‘Got it’, Snowy whispered back.
Then Jim got greedy. ‘Take it back to the boys. I’m going to snaffle another one.’
He slithered back to the pigsty, where the animals had apparently noted what had happened to one of their kind and were no longer silent. They were running about squealing, making enough noise to wake the dead let alone a compound full of vicious guards. With no time to pick and choose, Jim made a wild swipe with the pig donger at a fat animal that stood squealing and eyeing him. The blow glanced off its snout, and the pig squealed even louder.
A couple more hefty whacks and the pig was down but not out. It struggled angrily and continued to protest as Jim carried it in his arms, unable to hurry because of the pig’s size and objections.
Then all hell broke loose. Japanese shouting joined the pig squealing as three guards came charging out of the dark waving rifles with long bayonets attached.
Jim took off. In his heyday he’d won sprint races, but the recent restricted diet and the weight of the struggling pig took the edge off his speed. He was quickly run down by a guard. The Japanese was so close that Jim could almost touch the bayonet.