Covered up in Kowloon: Kept by the Power of God
Harold F. Collier
Table of Contents
Foreword
The interesting accounts contained in this little book, were written by Mr. and Mrs. H. F. Collier, and are their own exercises and experiences of the Lord’s care over them during the interval of many months, between the taking of Hong Kong and vicinity by the Japanese, until they were repatriated and allowed to return to Canada.
It is with the thought of encouraging faith and dependence on our gracious God and our Savior Jesus Christ, that these articles have been compiled, and we count upon His blessing to this end.
Mr. and Mrs. Collier labored in the gospel in China for several years prior to these events, and have now returned to China to the scenes of their former labors.
May, 1947.
Chapter 1: War Comes to Hong Kong
“Ping on, Koh Shin Shang, Ping on Koh Shi Nai, fai fai wui,” called the little cluster of Chinese Christians on that dull October morning, as we took our places in the sampan (river boat) that was to bear us the first few miles of our journey from Yeung Kong to Hong Kong.
“Ping on hei, ping on wui,” sang one of the youngsters, meaning “Peace going and peace to come back.”
“Yes, you’ll probably see us back in about a month,” we replied cheerfully, and neither we nor they had any premonition of the years that would intervene before we should any of us meet again. Nor did we think that before we should return to Yeung Kong, war, famine and disease would carry away many of those friends who had risen so early to bid us farewell.
My wife and I had to go to Hong Kong, partly for needed dental attention and partly to purchase foodstuffs and some medical supplies. We looked forward also to seeing three of our adopted girls, Foon Hei and Be Ling, who were at a missionary boarding school in Hong Kong, and Yin Hei who for two years had been fighting against T. B. in a hospital on the island of Cheung Chau, about ten miles from Hong Kong.
As we look back now over the events of the years that have passed since that morning in 1941, we realize that it was goodness and mercy that hid from us the coming events and so enabled us to go forward cheerfully into the unknown future.
Owing to various delays by the way, it was not till well on in November that we reached Hong Kong, and there, further delays hindered our return, so that the month of our expected absence lengthened into five weeks, and still we were delayed. However, we did not grudge the time spent with our girls for we knew that when we did leave Hong Kong, we might not again see them for many months.
One evening, my wife returned from Cheung Chau where she had been spending the day at the hospital with Yin Hei, and told me: “Yin Hei has lost one of her fellow-patients. Her husband is a wealthy Chinese at Macau, and wrote his wife to come home at once because the Japanese are going to attack Hong Kong in a few days. Yin Hei is rather scared about it, but I told her it was probably just one of the many Chinese alarms.”
“Oh, I don’t imagine there is any danger at present,” I reassured her, “not while they are still negotiating for peace at Washington.” And next day when I mentioned the case of the Cheung Chau patient to several friends they all took the same view.
The following Saturday I took the ferry over to Cheung Chau and spent the morning with Yin Hei, and she told me that several more of the patients had left because of the fear of the Japanese. I saw that she herself was quite alarmed lest the report might be true, so I cheered her up, reminding her that she was as safe in Cheung Chau as she would be with us in Hong Kong because our safety was in the loving care of our Father, who was infinite in power.
After leaving her, I took a stroll with a young lad over some of the pleasant paths of the island.
As we talked together, he suddenly shouted and gave me a push which knocked the words out of my mouth and nearly threw me off my balance.
I looked at him in surprise, and saw his gaze fixed on the path at our feet, and there was a large cobra on the spot where my next step would have brought me. The snake was sluggish in the chilly December air, but while we hunted for a rock or stick to kill it, it gradually uncoiled and made off into the grass. The words of assured safety I had spoken to Yin Hei came back to my mind and I remembered too, the words of Jeremiah, “It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not.”
Though I knew that there were some cobras on Cheung Chau, this was only the second that I had seen in many visits, and some people had spent years there and had never seen one.
I thanked my young friend for his unceremonious treatment which had prevented me from treading on the creature and perhaps being bitten, and we returned to the ferry and to Hong Kong.
The next day was the last Sunday of peace for many years, but we little realized it and our thoughts were much occupied with our girls, whom we expected to be leaving before another week was over.
Foon Hei, or Felicity, as she was called in English (her Chinese name meaning “Happiness”), was the eldest and had recently graduated from her Hong Kong school and won a scholarship to a higher school in Yunnan, to which she hoped to proceed shortly.
Yin Hei, or Catherine, whom I had visited in the hospital, was her sister. She had been the brightest and strongest-looking of all our family, with a very quick mind that grasped her studies without an effort, and a quick tongue that we used to say “wagged at both ends.” Her one interest had been her studies and we often grieved to see that she had little interest in spiritual things, and we prayed that she might be awakened to see the things that were really worthwhile were not the passing things of time, but the enduring things of eternity.
It was a great shock to us all when it was discovered that, in spite of her robust appearance, she was suffering from T. B., and must spend years in a hospital. It seemed hard for that bright, active child to be confined to bed day after day and week after week, but we soon realized that this sickness was not “hard” as we had thought, because it was God’s way of answering our prayers. Like the case in the thirty-third chapter of Job, her sickness was God’s working that she might be brought to know His claims and to find the provision He had made for her need. In the hospital, Yin Hei was brought to trust the Lord Jesus Christ as her Savior and to commit herself to His will whether for life or for death.
Be Ling, or Margaret, was a different character to either of the others, not so fond of study, of a gentler, more timid nature, but very affectionate, and she dreaded the thought of our return to Yeung Kong, chiefly because of the frequent bombing that the city was exposed to.
As our stay in Hong Kong was so soon to end, we arranged for Foon Hei and Be Ling to be with us for the weekend in the Chinese flat we rented near their school in Kowloon, and we also had with us Mo Fong, one of our former scholars from Yeung Kong. She had been in Shanghai and arrived back two days earlier, hoping to travel with us to Yeung Kong.
We were a happy party together, and the day passed quickly without our having any thought that it was the last day of quietness and comfort that we would see for many years.
Though there had been much talk of a Japanese war throughout 1941, and Hong Kong was sitting, as it were, on the edge of a volcano, there had also been so much false propaganda as to the strength of the Colony’s defenses, that many thought it impregnable and were lulled into a false sense of security, thinking that the Japanese would not dare to attack. On this account many were caught unsuspecting and unprepared when the war did break so suddenly.
On that fateful Monday morning, we were sitting at breakfast with the doors onto the veranda thrown open to allow us to enjoy the beautiful view of Sung Wong Toi, a hill famous in Chinese history, and of the sparkling waters of Kowloon Bay beyond, with Lyeemun Pass, the entrance to the Bay, in the distance.
The talk was of the Air Raid Precautions exercises and blackouts of the previous nights, which according to the authorities had not been satisfactory because many of the Chinese would not cooperate when there was no war on.
Foon Hei said that there were to be further war exercises on this day. Hardly had she spoken, when we heard the sound of several planes in the distance and immediately the air raid siren began its melancholy wail. At the same time we heard the dull boom of explosions, and then antiaircraft gunfire broke out.
We had often heard the sound of bombs during the last few years in Yeung Kong and I remarked: “It certainly is a very realistic practice.” Foon Hei replied with a smile, “You would think that it was real war.”
Just then there were two louder explosions and we saw a column of red earth rise up from the hill opposite and another from the field across the street, about fifty feet from our doorway, and a cloud of dust slowly drifted toward us.
“That is a real bomb and it must be a Japanese attack,” someone exclaimed excitedly, and then as another bomb fell a couple of hundred yards beyond, my wife said: “They must be trying for that gasometer over there; it will be terrible if it explodes.”
Forgetful, for the moment, of all the A. R. P. instructions that had been in the papers for days, we all crowded out upon the veranda to see what was happening.
The house in which our third floor flat was located, was about three-quarters of a mile from the airfield, and as we looked in that direction, the sky was already hidden by clouds of black smoke which rolled toward the heavens.
“They must have started fires at the airfield,” one of the girls conjectured, and Foon Hei suggested, “The gasoline storage must have been hit.”
As we watched, we could see Japanese planes circling overhead, and every few seconds one would dive down into the billowing clouds of smoke and would roar up again in the distance, and then we would hear the full reverberations of exploding bombs. British guns were barking away frantically from various points, but apparently with little effect, and the Japanese planes circled and attacked again and again until their bombs were expended, and then, one after another, about twenty-three in all, they withdrew and quiet once more reigned.
The attack lasted about twenty minutes and then a few minutes more and the “All Clear” sirens sounded, and we might have thought it was indeed a practice were it not for the dense columns of smoke that continued to roll up from the stricken airfield and the large craters in the field and hill opposite us. When we went down to the street we found that the window on the stairway had been blown in by the force of the explosion, and we realized that our doors might have suffered in the same way had they not been wide open.
Now that the first attack was over, we realized how close the bombs had been and were filled with thankfulness to God for our preservation.
“War has come!” Foon Hei cried excitedly, and the girls looked at each other with startled faces. They grasped that the events of this morning would have far-reaching effects upon their lives and upon the lives of the teeming thousands in Hong Kong. Yet none of us realized for a moment how serious would be those effects. We had confidence in the defenses of Hong Kong and did not imagine that in a few short weeks the Rising Sun flag of Japan would be flying over the Colony, some of our friends we would see no more in this life, and most of the others would be shut up in prison camps.
As my wife and I looked at those helpless girls, our first thought was one of thankfulness to God that we had been permitted to all be together to face the trials and dangers that might be coming. But we remembered Yin Hei, alone in the hospital, with Cheung Chau an easy prey to the Japanese fleet that even before this day had swarmed in the Chinese waters around Hong Kong.
“If only Yin Hei were with us we could face so much more easily whatever the uncertain future may bring,” my wife said. However, we were comforted by the knowledge that the assurance we had given her of the Lord’s watchful care was not a vain expression, but a reality which she and we could count on.
After the “All Clear” had sounded, we turned back into the flat, but with no thought of returning to our unfinished breakfast. As was our practice we read together our morning portion in the Word of God and knelt in prayer. What a feeling of comfort it gave to be able in this way to cast our burden of fear and uncertainty upon the Lord who loved us and had so fully proved His love at Calvary’s cross, and now was our risen Savior, able to keep and deliver us, no matter how great might be the dangers to which we should be exposed.
When we arose from our knees we all felt encouraged and strengthened. My wife and the girls gathered up the breakfast dishes and began the duties of the day, and I left them to go by bus down to the Y. M. C. A., two miles away, where the headquarters of the A. R. P. had been set up.
The bus was crowded and all were talking excitedly of the raid, for they had come from the airfield. Each one was eager to tell his own story and the jabbering in Chinese and English was hard to follow, but I learned that the U. S. Clipper had been sunk at its dock and six Chinese transport planes and two small R. A. F. planes had been destroyed, leaving nothing but wreckage on the field.
Crowds of soldiers and civilians milled around the ground-floor rooms of the Y. M. C. A., most of the civilians trying to get permission to cross to what they considered the greater safety of the Island, but no passes were being issued except to people in uniform or connected with essential services.
The air was full of rumors of damage done, but nobody seemed to know definitely what had happened, but bombs had been dropped in various parts of Kowloon, and some poor lads at Shamshuipo Barracks had been killed.
I told the officer-in-charge that I wanted to try to get out to Cheung Chau. “Absolutely impossible,” he said, “All Europeans have already been evacuated by the Police Launch.”
“But I have an adopted girl in the hospital,” I pleaded. “All the hospital patients have been brought over to Hong Kong, but I cannot give you a pass to go over,” he replied. “The ferries are to be kept for service men and women only.”
While we were talking, the siren again had shrieked its warning and the planes had returned with another load of bombs. As there were no defending aircraft and the gunfire was ineffective, they were able to drop their bombs pretty nearly where they wished, and clouds of smoke in various parts told of fires started in the city.
I returned home and it was not until next afternoon that I was able to get across to Hong Kong and find Yin Hei in a dreary Chinese hotel to which she and some of the other patients from Cheung Chau had been brought.
The intervening night had been pretty sleepless owing to the excitement and the continual duel of artillery fire, but we were thankful that we were spared from night air raids. Early in the morning, I again walked down to the Y. M. C. A., but found the crowd even more dense than before and had to wait a long time before I could reach the officer who was dispensing passes.
While waiting, I noticed a crowd trying to get into the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank next door, and so decided that I had better draw some money while I had the opportunity, as food prices were likely to go up quickly and it would be advisable to lay in a supply.
The Indian policeman at the door kindly cleared a way for me to enter, and I found many inside who were drawing large sums, which the Bank was paying in denominations of one hundred, five hundred and one thousand dollars. As these would probably be difficult to use, I drew only two hundred dollars and asked that it should be in ten dollar bills, which were given me. I did not realize that the following day the Bank would be transferred to the Island, and I would have no further opportunity for getting funds.
With what I had, I hurried to a well-known compradore or grocer and with careful thought expended thirty-five dollars on supplies and then with difficulty found a ricksha on which to load them for the two-mile journey home. Twice we had to take shelter in a ditch as Japanese planes flew over, bombing and machine gunning, and I thought the poor ricksha-man deserved the exorbitant fee of two dollars which he asked.
In the afternoon I went again to the Y. M. C. A., and on this occasion was given a pass to go across on the ferry to Hong Kong. When over there, I called at the Government offices and offered my services for ambulance or hospital work, if needed, and was told that I would be notified next day. Next I visited our local compradore and got a twenty-five pound tin of powdered milk which later proved of inestimable value.
I found Yin Hei tired and hungry, as she had no money to buy food, and the hotel was crowded, so that no one could get any special attention. She soon cheered up when she got home to the flat, and her tongue seemed to wag as freely as ever as she told her experiences; how a plane had tried to bomb the launch when they were coming in from the hospital. We were all very thankful to be together again, and as we spoke together of our experiences and escapes we were encouraged to believe that the Lord, who had delivered us, would deliver us all through.
Another almost sleepless night passed, and we realized that the Japanese guns were now much nearer than on the preceding night. Our bedroom window looked toward the Kowloon Hills, on the other side of which the combat was being waged. As a gun belched forth its shot, the sky would be lit up and then we would count until the sound of the gun reached our ears, giving us an approximate knowledge of the distance away, and then we would hear the sound of the explosion of the shell somewhere in Kowloon or on the Island.
The flash of light in the sky told us the instant that the gun was fired. Sound travels about a mile in five seconds, so that the number of seconds between the flash and the sound reaching us, gave us some idea of the distance of the gun.
We lay awake thinking of and praying for the men of the forces who were out in the forefront; many of them young Canadian lads who had learned little of soldiering before being thrust into this post of danger. Some of these and many of the British soldiers and sailors were known to us and we thanked God that for most of those we knew, it was as one young Canadian signalman had said to me on the first day of the fighting, “If we don’t meet again down here, we look to meet above.”
The following morning, we learned that the Bank had been evacuated from Kowloon to the Island. Several soldiers whom I met looked completely exhausted, for they had been in the firing-line from the beginning, and they spoke rather hopelessly of the situation beyond the hills.
“There seems to be no end to the Japanese,” one told me despondently, “They just come on endlessly.” Another man added, “They camouflage themselves so thoroughly with branches of bushes that you can hardly see them.”
After lunch I once more walked down to the A. R. P. post hoping for something more encouraging.
The air was full of the sound of explosions, but no planes were in sight. As I passed near the Kowloon Dock Company I saw a tremendous explosion and a large crane toppled over into the water.
Meeting a man I knew, I asked what was happening. “We are to evacuate Kowloon,” he told me, “and so all important works have to be destroyed.”
I hurried on, noticing as I went that many Europeans were hastening down toward the ferry carrying suitcases, a few with their servants bearing other bundles.
The Y. M. C. A. was almost deserted, but the Immigration Officer, who had issued me the pass for Hong Kong on the previous day, was still there, apparently packing up. “What’s happening?” I asked him. Without pausing in his own preparations, he snapped out, “All Americans and British are to cross to Hong Kong. Get your wife and hurry down to the ferry; there will only be a few more crossings.”
“We have four Chinese girls. I suppose they won’t require special passes?”
“They cannot cross over. No Chinese are to be allowed on the ferries.”
“But my wife and I cannot leave these girls to the Japanese,” I insisted.
“Sorry,” he replied, “but our orders are that the police are to use firearms if any Chinese try to cross.”
“In that case we will have to remain in Kowloon with our girls,” I said.
“I am sorry, but you will have to decide that for yourself,” he called back as he hurried off to the ferry.
I turned back toward our flat feeling decidedly depressed and deserted. Near the Signal Tower, were the bodies of three poor Chinese who had been caught by a bomb a few minutes earlier and I realized that I had been preserved by the gracious hand of God, for that bomb might have fallen when I passed by about twenty minutes earlier.
Passing near the Missionary Home, I saw one of our friends standing on the steps and turned aside to bid him farewell. He was thunderstruck to learn of the evacuation, for somehow the news had not reached the Home. He ran in quickly to call to his wife, and the other occupants of the Home, and I continued on my way feeling even more alone than before.
As I walked rather dejectedly toward Kowloon City, I passed some Europeans in rickshaws, hurrying along to the ferry.
“You’d better get your things and make haste,” one of them hailed me, and they seemed amazed when I said I was not leaving Kowloon.
The only word of cheer I received was from a dear Eurasian friend who had just shed his A. R. P. uniform and was lingering to find and take care of a young lad whose missionary parents were far away from Hong Kong. I told him that we were remaining behind and the reason, and Mr. L. replied encouragingly, “Well, the Lord will be with you, and He can keep you as safe in Kowloon as anywhere else.”
Yes, I was assured that though I might feel we were deserted by our countrymen, the Lord would not fail nor forsake us, for “He abideth faithful.”
As I continued homeward, feeling somewhat cheered by this last encounter, there came to me a message from the Lord, the words of Isa. 26:20, “Come, my people, enter thou into thy chambers, and shut thy doors about thee; hide thyself as it were for a little moment, until the indignation be overpast.”
At the time I could not remember where the words came from, but I felt confident that it was a word of instruction and encouragement from Him who is for His people a “refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”
Going homeward I had to pass through a district in which a very rough class of Chinese lived, and many of these were clustered on the street corners evidently discussing the British retreat, and making plans for the looting of the deserted homes.
It was with rather pale and anxious faces that my wife and the girls received the news of our being left behind. Mrs. Collier agreed with me that there was nothing else that we could do, and she also accepted as a special guidance the verse that I had been given by the Lord.
We realized that the withdrawal of the police and soldiers would be followed immediately by a reign of terror and destruction, for at all times there was present in the Colony, a large class of lawless criminals who would be quick to avail themselves of the removal of restraint.
In that time of anxiety, we naturally turned to the God whom we knew as the source of all power and the God of all comfort, and we knelt together in prayer to commit ourselves to His protection and to ask Him to provide for us in the difficult and dangerous days that we knew were ahead of us.
On the wall of our bedroom hung a large framed text. It had been there for years, but at this time seemed to be specially given for the circumstances and needs of the moment.
In Old English letters, within an illuminated border were the words of Deut. 33:12, “The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by Him; and the Lord shall cover him all the day long, and he shall dwell between His shoulders.”
As we looked at the verse the words brought to us a very sweet sense of quietness and confidence and all through the months that followed, these precious words of encouragement remained with us; and as we daily proved His faithfulness to the promise, every fresh emergency or trial led us to expect that in some way the Lord would give us the safety, shelter or strength that the occasion demanded. In every case we proved His watchful eye upon us and learned afresh that He is “the faithful God.”
That evening we watched from our veranda the rearguard action of the British troops as they withdrew from the Kowloon Hills to embark on ferries waiting to receive them at Kowloon City pier. During the night, however, sporadic bursts of machine-gun fire told that there were still some poor fellows left behind in the hills.
It seemed hard to realize that it was only four days since war had come to Hong Kong and already Kowloon was given up.
Chapter 2: Dwelling Safely
After the British troops and police had been evacuated from Kowloon, it was but a short time till the shackles of law and order were cast aside.
During the night, we heard robbers at work on nearby flats that had been abandoned by their owners, and below our windows we could see some men on a roof industriously sawing through the iron bars that protected the second-floor apartment which had been left by the occupants who had fled to more secure quarters.
With the light of the morning, bands of Chinese robbers and Fifth Columnists wearing armbands, roamed the streets armed with discarded rifles, revolvers or crowbars, robbing unwary pedestrians, breaking open and looting homes and in some cases murdering the owners.
Our main door was protected with three Yale locks, an ordinary lock, three bolts and a hardwood bar, but we knew that even that protection would not suffice against a determined attack with axes and crowbars, and our hope of safety did not lie there but in the promise we had been given from the Word of God.
All day we watched trucks and cars laden with looted goods passing along the street, but it was not until 3 p. m. that we saw the looters enter our building. As the people from the lower flats had fled, the looters made a clean sweep of everything. Large articles of furniture, such as dressers and wardrobes and even beautiful blackwood chairs and divans, which they could not easily remove, were smashed up for firewood and carried off by the women and children who accompanied their menfolk on their path of destruction. Even windows and doorframes were ripped out and split up, for fuel was even then a major problem.
When the sounds of destruction below began to grow less, we heard the footsteps of a number of men coming up the stone stairs to the third floor, and then they hammered on our door.
“How can we hope to resist such a crowd? Surely it would be wiser to open the door and give what they asked, than to attempt to hold them off!” The question came before me as I looked at the small hatchet and hammer which were our only visible weapons of defense.
Then the words given to me the day before recurred to me as fresh guidance, “Shut thy doors about thee, hide thyself,” and I determined that our doors would remain bolted, confident that “the fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe.”
As they knocked again more insistently and shouted to us to open up, I called out loudly, “Hai bin koh?” “Who is there?”
In the flat across the landing from ours, a large Alsatian police dog heard my shout and the loud commotion and began to bark ferociously.
For a couple of minutes an excited discussion was carried on by the looters outside our door and then the sound of footsteps retreating down the stairs told us that they had withdrawn. From our veranda, we watched them proceed to the adjoining houses. Surely the Lord had caused us to “dwell in safety” and we praised Him for His preserving mercy.
Before we had this visit from the looters our numbers in the flat had been augmented by the coming of Jimmy Davis.
About noon there had been a knock on our barred and bolted door and a voice called out, “Please open! it’s me―Jimmy!”
Glad to speak with anyone friendly, we had quickly admitted the knocker, and gave him a welcome, inquiring why he was roaming the streets at such a perilous time.
Jimmy was well known to many of the Shanghai and Hong Kong missionaries. He was a Chinese lad from Swatow but had spent much of his boyhood as an urchin on the streets of Shanghai where he had early become acquainted with all the vice and corruption of that city.
Being generally hungry as he roamed the streets he had discovered that the neighborhood of the U. S. gunboats was a fine place to get scraps of food, and so day after day would find him there to paw over the discarded remnants or get a handout from the cooks.
As he was an unusually bright and ambitious lad, he soon attracted the notice of some of the sailors and marines and, finally, to his great pride, he was installed as “Cook’s boy” on one of the gunboats, and entered upon an era of sufficiency and satisfaction such as few Shanghai street-boys had ever versioned.
Jimmy had a wonderful gift for friendship, and never forgot anyone who showed him the slightest kindness, and years after would speak of this or that officer, or seaman or marine who had befriended him; and he, in turn, was ever ready to befriend or help any man or woman, dog or cat, that he saw in more unfortunate circumstances than himself.
While working on this gunboat, Jimmy had great expectations that he would in time become an American citizen; but, before he could attain this hope, the ship was decommissioned and had to return to the U. S., and was not allowed to take any Chinese personnel with her, so poor Jimmy again returned to the streets.
As he had picked up a good deal of English by this time, Jimmy began to spend his time in the parts of Shanghai where there were more foreigners, and so came in contact with numbers of missionaries. Many of them took pity upon the poor lad and did what they could to save him from the life that he was living. Jimmy had his own ideas of right and wrong and often his would-be helpers gave up their efforts at his reformation when they found that he remained indifferent to their teaching and would, after a few weeks of apparent improvement, finally slip back into his old ways. One kind missionary took him into his own home and sent him to a Christian school, treating him like a son, but, in spite of all his efforts he had finally to let him go, as it seemed that Jimmy was bound to live his own life.
This went on for several years and many who had befriended him became convinced that he was a hopeless case and that his protestations of friendliness and desire to improve were alike vain. However, “There is a Friend that sticketh closer than a brother” and His eye was upon the wayward lad and He would not let him go.
One day Jimmy received a revelation which changed his whole outlook upon life. He had perhaps often assented verbally with his would-be reformer friends that he was a pretty poor and worthless creature but those thoughts did not trouble him long and he was really quite proud of himself.
He received, however, a new idea of what he really was worth. With a shock which, for the moment, knocked all the pride out of him, Jimmy learned that the Lord Jesus had esteemed his soul to be of more value than the whole world, and had given His own life upon the cross to purchase poor Jimmy and to redeem him from a life of uselessness and sin that he might love and serve God.
Jimmy had often heard his missionary friends read from the Bible such verses as “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” and that He “gave Himself for our sins, that He might deliver us from this present evil world,” but until that day Jimmy had never grasped that it was for him that the Lord Jesus had died. Now he realized how worthless he was, indeed, but that Christ should love him and be ready to save him was a marvel that he could not understand; but he believed it, and the wonderful truth changed his life completely, and it became his desire that he might in some way serve the Lord who loved him so greatly.
Poor Jimmy! Even after this, he found that it was not always easy to do right and sometimes his walk as a Christian was rather a stumbling one, but in spite of his own failures and wavering’s of his faith, he knew that the love of Christ did not waver and when he got on his knees and confessed his failures he found forgiveness and comfort.
He had left Shanghai some years before the war and come to Hong Kong with the expectation that he might be able to make the Gospel known to the thousands of Swatow Chinese who worked in Hong Kong, but he did not find very many who cared about the truths that he preached or had any interest beyond the question where their next day’s rice would come from. During his time in Hong Kong he had been supported chiefly by the sympathy and kindness of missionaries and Chinese Christians who knew him, and by the generosity of several Christian sailors on the British warships which were based at Hong Kong, who were glad to encourage a Chinese to preach to his own countrymen of the Savior who was precious to himself.
As soon as the war came, Jimmy’s foreign friends were scattered, and he found himself alone, and it was apparently that which brought him knocking on our door, but behind it all was the Lord’s care for him and for us, for in the days that followed, we many times had to thank the Lord for the coming of Jimmy.
As his funds were short and he had no food supply put by, we agreed with him that we would provide for him as long as we could do so, if he would buy our food and bring it to us each day. This enabled us to remain in our flat, hidden from the Japanese, and we were there, dwelling in safety, covered up for seven months before the Japanese authorities discovered our presence.
Chapter 3: Covered Up
“The Lord Shall Cover Him all the Day Long”
The day following our visit from the gang of looters, a change was apparent in the street. Almost every house about us showed some kind of homemade Japanese flag, many of them made of a small piece of cotton with a red ball painted in the center.
On the streets, many were wearing armbands with Chinese characters that stated they were friends of Japan. No doubt many of them were, indeed, Fifth Columnists, but the majority were only making the profession of friendship in hope that it would save their own lives and property.
When Jimmy arrived that morning, he told us that he had been held up on his way home the previous night and robbed of his overcoat, money and fountain pen. He also brought the news that already Japanese troops were in other parts of Kowloon and that we might expect them in our district at any moment.
We learned that the Japanese had captured a number of Chinese looters and immediately executed them by cutting off their heads, but apparently this was not because looting shocked their morality, but rather because they considered everything in the captured city belonged to Japan and only their soldiers had the right to pillage.
About noon, we heard the troops coming in to our part of Kowloon, and watched a seemingly endless stream of cavalry coming down from the hills. Three batteries of artillery lumbered in and took up positions within a few hundred feet of our doors, two behind us, and one under the shelter of Sung Wong Toi Hill. Those behind us also were located in sheltered spots, one battery almost under the walls of the Kowloon Hospital, which was crowded with sick and wounded, and the other in the midst of the refugee camp, in which the British had cared for hundreds of Chinese who had fled from Japanese aggression in Canton.
Within very few minutes of their arrival, the guns were firing and each discharge would rattle our house and shake it to the foundations. We dared not close our windows as the explosions would have blown them in, but we were in the midst of South China’s finest season and had no rain or storms.
When we saw the proximity of these batteries, we feared that our house would surely suffer when the British guns, from the various forts on the Island, should endeavor to destroy the Japanese, but our fears proved groundless. Though these guns kept up an almost incessant barrage from the 12th of December until Christmas Day, when Hong Kong finally surrendered, not once did an answering shell from the British guns fall anywhere in our vicinity.
Was this immunity from the danger we expected due to the British unwillingness to endanger the lives of the helpless people in the hospital and refugee camp? Or was it the hand of God covering us up and sheltering us from the danger that we might “dwell in safety?”
With many misgivings, we saw long lines of cavalry horses tethered along the street in front of our house, and some of the men scattering to search the houses. The sound of iron-tipped boots coming up the concrete steps to our apartment, and a thunderous banging at our door, made us realize that we now had to do with another danger, perhaps more serious even than Chinese looters. The remembrance of God’s power in preserving us the day before, encouraged us and we did not hesitate to open the door at the authoritative summons.
At the door was a Cavalry officer with two soldiers with fixed bayonets attending him. He appeared rather surprised not to find Chinese, but entered the apartment while his two men took up guard within the door.
In good English and quite civilly, he asked who we were and why we were there. For safety’s sake, we had caused the girls to hide themselves in the kitchen, and we did not mention their presence, but showed him our passports and told him we had neglected to flee to the Island when the British were evacuated.
He wrote down our answers and the particulars of our passports, and then said he would inform the authorities and they should decide what to do with us, and so we were to remain in the flat until we received further instructions.
We were glad to see him go, but had to acknowledge that, throughout the interview, he had been quite courteous and shown us no roughness. When we remembered the overbearing and rude manners of so many Japanese officers and soldiers even before the war, we realized that it was the Lord’s hand that had covered us up and preserved us from violence or rudeness.
Shortly after the departure of this officer, there was again a banging on our door, and our girls hurriedly locked themselves into the kitchen while we opened the, door. This time, it was a group of Japanese soldiers, off duty and searching for loot. Before this, we had hidden all our money by dividing it among our books where we thought it would likely remain undisturbed, but we found that these soldiers had no desire for money. They knew their army would soon put out plenty of paper money, but they wanted watches and trinkets, fountain pens, flashlights, and warm sweaters.
When we left Yeung Kong two months before, several Chinese friends, who could not themselves hope to get goods through the Japanese blockade of the coast, had asked us to bring back things for them, so I had bought ten fountain pens, four watches, and about six sweaters to take back with us. Anxious to keep these looters from becoming enraged and from searching the apartment and finding our girls, we gave them some of these things and they did not long delay, but went on to the next house to see what they could gather up there.
This group, however, was soon followed by a second and third party, and it was not long before we had parted with all our watches and sweaters and had only one pen left. My wife had given her gold watch to a Japanese soldier nearly a year before when they had raided Yeung Kong, and I had bought her a cheaper one to take its place, but this also had to go, as well as my silver watch, a very good timekeeper, given me by a friend during our last leave.
Another group of five men came up, demanding the same treasures, but we had nothing more to give them. This seemed to enrage them and they began to look about the room to see if they could find anything of value. My wife and I were just sitting down to a much-needed cup of tea, and with the hope of diverting their attention from the kitchen door, she offered them some tea and bread and jam. This was evidently a pleasant change from their army diet, and they quickly made short work of the bread and asked for more, which my wife provided. After this, they became expansive and friendly and began to tell us of their exploits and valor. Suddenly, one of them discovered from a watch he had looted elsewhere, that it was time for roll call and they hurriedly clattered down the stairs.
It had been a day of excitement and anxiety, but we could not get much sleep that night. The continual explosions of the batteries behind and before, shook the house and filled the room with flashes of light. During the hours of darkness, we heard several doors being battered down, and women screaming and more than one poor woman going down the street sobbing and crying, so that we were thankful that none of the soldiers had discovered the presence of our girls.
We knew that we had no strength to protect them and that the best plan was to keep them hidden, but we also believed that as they were the Lord’s and trusted Him as their Savior, He would watch over them and keep them safe from the danger that threatened. After events showed how wonderful and unfailing was His care, even after the soldiers had discovered their presence with us.
During the following days we had frequent visits from some of these soldiers. We had some Japanese tracts and Scripture portions which we gave them, and my wife would prepare coffee or tea and bread and jam and some of them became quite friendly and would speak of their homes and families, for many of them were just lads who would have been glad to be back among their own people. Some of them had already been in China for three years and spoke Cantonese, but others would write their request or remarks in Chinese characters, and sometimes we would have to call upon Jimmy to decipher and translate what they wished to say. None of these ever tried to rob us, and only once more were we exposed to any effort to loot.
One afternoon, a strange soldier came in by himself. I was sitting reading and when I heard him at the door, I readily opened it, thinking it would be one of those we knew. He immediately marched in, and with his hand on his bayonet in a threatening manner, poured out a torrent of Japanese. I answered in English which must have been just as queer to him, but at least had the effect of stemming the flow of his language, and he looked around for some way to make his demands clear to one so stupid as not to understand the simplest Japanese. Picking up a thick blue pencil lying on the table, he printed a large “Kam” on my opened Bible. “Kam” is the Chinese and I suppose also the Japanese character for “Gold,” but he had written it over Isaiah 61:10. I read the verse over, “I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for He hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, He hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with jewels.”
I looked at my friend and shook my head and held out empty hands to show that I had none of the gold that he was seeking, but I felt also that the verse he had thus marked was indeed true gold, and I was filled with thankfulness that I did have the true gold which was the gift of God to all who knew the Lord Jesus Christ as their robe of righteousness.
After a few more angry remarks, our unpleasant visitor left us, without putting into effect any of the threats which he had made with his bayonet.
These were only a few examples of God’s faithfulness to the promise which hung upon our wall.
After Hong Kong surrendered, the strain of the continual artillery fire was lessened, but there was still the uncertainty as to what would happen to us. We had heard nothing more from the officer who had first called upon us and told us to remain where we were. There had been very heavy fighting during the ensuing nights as the Japanese fought for a footing on the Island, and truckloads of bodies had passed up our street, so it might have been that he was killed, or he may have lost his notes and forgotten all about us.
Jimmy, in the meantime, had proved himself of inestimable value as he daily purchased our meager supplies of food, and he had also got in touch with some of our neutral friends who were still in Kowloon.
One day, shortly after Hong Kong surrendered, he brought us an unsigned note from one of these who was sheltering under a Portuguese passport, telling us that the Japanese had posted notices that all British and American citizens were to report at a certain Chinese hotel on the Island to be interned.
“Too bad,” Jimmy said, “Mr. B. says you can’t live here anymore, but will have to give yourselves up to the Japanese.”
“But how can we get across to the Island?” we asked, thinking of the impossibility of carrying with us, to the distant ferry, all that we might need, and the certainty that we could get no rickshaws or coolies to help us.
Jimmy mentioned that a missionary friend of ours, who was lying at death’s door in Kowloon City, had communicated with the Japanese through a Chinese that he knew, who was interpreter to the officer in charge in Kowloon.
After discussion, I wrote a letter to this officer telling him of our predicament, unable to get across to the Island through lack of money for coolies, and asking him to make arrangements for us. Jimmy took the letter to the home of the interpreter, and his wife promised that her husband would give it to his master.
Next day, we prepared for our departure by gathering together and packing as much as we thought we would be allowed to carry, only hoping that the soldiers would not come before we were ready for them.
How thankful we were that the girls had got away to other quarters before we should be taken from the apartment, but we were sorry to think of all that we were to leave behind, our own books and the books and belongings of several of our fellow-workers who had made use of the apartment in earlier days. We knew that once we were gone, the place would be quickly ransacked, and that even the doors and window frames would be smashed up and carried off for fuel.
Days passed, however, and no effort was made to collect us. Jimmy went about each day and brought us news of the internment of others. His account of the march of the surrendered troops from the Star Ferry to Shamshuipo Camp where they were interned, made us sorrow to hear of the poor condition in which so many were, and the callous ways in which the victors sought to humble them in the eyes of the Chinese who lined the route of their march. Many of those Chinese, like Jimmy, sympathized with the poor fellows who, in spite of their defeat, kept their heads up, and stumbled along in their weakness, bravely and uncomplainingly. We were thankful that Jimmy was able to recognize several of the Christian soldiers known to us and bring us word that they had been preserved by God through all the carnage.
“It won’t be long now,” Jimmy greeted us one afternoon, when he came for the evening meal. “Yesterday, the Nips sent a truck and took away all the American missionaries who were in Mr. H’s house on Peace Ave, and the R’s have gone from Nathan Rd.”
This was disturbing news, as we thought that surely our time could not be much longer. In one way, we thought it would be rather a relief to be in the same place as so many of our Christian acquaintances, instead of facing possible trials in our isolation, but already we had settled down to a certain extent, and were able to spend our days in reading and prayer, and found that it was a happy thing to be shut in alone, when we could enjoy unhinderedly the comfort of God and His Word.
Each morning after our frugal meal, generally consisting of a bowl of rice gruel with a pickle to flavor it, and a small piece of bread and cup of tea, we would read together and pray for a couple of hours. Jimmy had a real faith in prayer and would pour out his heart to God, remembering and praying for friends he had not seen for perhaps a dozen years. As we thus drew near to God, we knew His nearness to us, and that His eye was over us to see our need, and we would rise up wonderfully comforted and strengthened.
“It will be hard to leave this quiet place for the camp,” my wife remarked one day; “God has certainly made us dwell here in safety according to His promise.”
Then we remembered the words of the promise, “The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by Him,” and the realization came to us that even if we were removed from that haven, we would still “dwell in safety by Him,” whether in a camp or prison, because He had made us His beloved.
More days passed without our being called for, but we still lived in a state of tension expecting to have to go any day. My wife felt that uncertainty. She would say, “I would like to wash my hair today, but I am afraid they may come, come for us before it is dry, and won’t give me time to put it up.”
One day, however, six weeks after our letter had been handed to the wife of the interpreter, we received it back again, and were surprised to find it unopened. Then, we learned that on the day the letter had been given to her, her husband had come home with the news that he had lost his job and would not again see the commanding officer. Our letter had lain in his house all this time, until he thought he had better return it and let us find some other channel for its delivery.
Evidently the Lord did not intend that letter to be delivered, my wife suggested.
“Should we write another letter or try some other means, or should we just let the matter rest?” the question was asked.
It seemed to us that we had made the effort to comply with the Japanese order, but a circumstance over which we had no control had prevented us. Surely, that circumstance was under the over-ruling hand of the Lord and was part of His purpose in fulfilling the good promise to “cover us up,” so we decided that the letter should not be rewritten nor sent.
Since the Japanese occupation, we had remained indoors, only going out onto our veranda at night, when there would be no possibility of any sentry on the hill which overlooked us, recognizing that we were “foreigners” and not Chinese. Thanks to the veranda, we could always get fresh air at night, but we missed the opportunity for exercise, and so would often march up and down our one long room twenty or thirty times. This also served to keep our blood circulating, as sitting still in the unheated room with our feet on the tile floor caused us to get very chilled and at night suffer with severe cramps.
Another evidence of the Lord’s over-ruling to cover us up, was seen when officials visited all the houses to see how many people in each house should be allowed ration tickets for rice. Rice had gone up tremendously in price, and many were starving, when the Japanese began to supply rationed rice at a reasonable cost.
We heard from Jimmy that parties of Japanese and Chinese were visiting every house and making lists of the residents, and then the Japanese would issue ration cards. The Lord’s care had been so apparent in other things that we expected we would still be taken care of and “covered up”, but it was not easy to see how it would be in this case.
One morning Jimmy came in excitedly. “They’ll soon be here,” he said, “I saw many of them further down the street, and one party is now next door.”
A few minutes later, we heard steps outside our door and a loud rap made us open it. About six Chinese with armbands, and carrying record books and fountain pens, marched in and seated themselves around our dining table. One who was evidently the spokesman and head of the party began to question us closely in very good English. I congratulated him on his very good mastery of the English language.
“I suppose you are a graduate of Hong Kong University,” I said.
“Oh, no! I was born and brought up in Trinidad.”
“In that case we must have been neighbors,” I told him, “because I was born and brought up in British Guiana, and have several times been in Trinidad when I was a child.”
In this way we found a point of contact, and I did not tell him how disgusted I was that he should have become a Japanese underling. I told him how we came to be in China, and gave him some tracts to read, but then he remembered that he was there on business.
“How do you spell your name?” he asked. For answer I handed him my visiting card which had my name in English on one side, and in Chinese characters on the other. He turned it over and read “Koh Lee Tak.”
“I will put your name in Chinese, it will be more easy for them to read it at the office,” and so my name was put down on the records in Chinese, nationality, British, birthplace, British Guiana.
“Probably when the Japanese Food Bureau sees that record they will not give us ration tickets, because we are British,” I thought, but about a week later, we received ration tickets, allowing us to purchase rice at the same rate as the Chinese. Afterward we learned that many Chinese from Australia, Canada, and the West Indies, also claimed British nationality, and so we were considered to be in the same category.
We often felt that it was part of the “covering up,” that this young West Indian should have been in charge of the party that called on us, for many other parties were under Japanese leadership.
Even when on June 1st, nearly seven months after the Japanese occupation, we were finally discovered by the Gendarmes, we proved that we were still being “covered up,” and the unpleasant experience of being discovered, but added to our assurance that the Lord would not fail us.
I was sitting reading, while my wife was busy in the kitchen. Jimmy had gone off shortly after breakfast and we did not expect him back till the afternoon.
The clatter of heavy boots on the stairs told me that Japanese soldiers were coming up, and as the opposite flat had been vacant for about two months, I feared that the soldiers were coming for us. Arrived on the landing, they began to batter on the door of the empty apartment, shouting for the door to be opened immediately.
Thinking that they had made a mistake in the apartment, and that their tempers would rise if delayed before the empty flat, I threw open the door, and asked who they were looking for. The look of surprise on their faces showed that they had not expected to see a “foreigner” and they asked me where the occupants of the opposite apartment had gone. These people had feared the gendarmes were after them and had moved away very quietly, without allowing us to know where they were going, so I could truthfully say that we knew nothing beyond the fact that they had been gone nearly two months.
There were about six Japanese gendarmes and a Chinese dressed in Khaki, carrying a heavy revolver; and they crowded into our room and stared about them.
“Who are you?” the leader of the party asked.
I told him our names and that we were British.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you know there is a war on and you are enemies? Why aren’t you interned?”
One of the Japanese pointed at me and said something, and then they all began to jabber together.
“You are an escaped soldier from Shamshuipo Camp!” said the interpreter.
“I am not! You can see from our passports that we are missionaries and only arrived in Hong Kong a short time before the attack.”
He pointed to my shirt and said “Your shirt shows what you are.”
Then I remembered I was wearing a shirt given me by a Chinese friend because my own clothes had worn out.
It had, perhaps, belonged to some naval man, and had buttonholes on the shoulders for epaulettes.
I tried to explain how it happened, but the interpreter rapped his revolver on the table and shouted:
“You are lying, but you can’t lie to us. We know all about you. You escaped from the camp two days ago, but we have been watching you all the time.”
My wife and I pretended to laugh it off as all nonsense, but they were very much in earnest.
Just then Jimmy turned up unexpectedly and boldly put in his word for us, but the officer gave an order, the gendarmes fixed bayonets and we were told that we must accompany them to headquarters.
As we passed out the door, we took a last look around the familiar flat, wondering whether we should return to it again. We had, however, a very comforting sense that the Lord would not forsake us, but would in some way “cover us up” and we thought that is was indeed a “token for good” that Jimmy had arrived back in time to safeguard the apartment, and also to be able to tell any of our friends what had happened if we did not get back.
As we passed along the streets which had once been very familiar, but which we had not trodden for seven months, we could not help feeling very strange. The Chinese that we passed, seeing us in the midst of these bayonetted gendarmes, seemed to think that we were being led out for execution and we could not mistake the look of sympathy on the faces of many of them.
Arrived at the Kowloon City Police Station of other days, which was now the Gendarmerie, we were made to wait, standing in what had formerly been the Charge Room. Our guards seated themselves about the room, threw open their tunics, and because it was a stiflingly hot day called for iced drinks. It seemed to intensify our heat and thirst to hear the tinkle of the ice in their glasses, but my wife and I talked cheerfully, and were mutually comforted by being still able to be together.
When the gendarmes had cooled themselves off a bit, word of their capture was sent up to the Head Gendarme and we had to undergo further interrogation by several officers. They were rather loud and rude in their questioning, but did not make any attempt to slap our faces, as was a very common habit with the Japanese, and we felt that this was surely due to the “good hand of the Lord” covering us up.
After I had answered all their questions simply and truthfully, and I believe they were convinced that we were as harmless as we professed to be, one bright officer asked suddenly, “Who do you want to win the war?” The others watched me closely. I could not say truthfully that I hoped Japan would win.
Almost immediately, and I believe that it was of God, I remembered reading in Prov. 21 a few days earlier, and had noticed particularly the last verse which said,
“The horse is prepared against the day of battle; but safety is of the Lord.” I had been struck by the marginal reading “Victory is of the Lord.”
I replied, “Our Bible tells us that victory is given by God to whichever nation He sees should have it, so that we know that if He gives it to Japan, that will be best, but if He gives it to Britain and America that will be best.”
When I made this answer, they said nothing for a minute but looked at each other, then another one asked, “Who is winning now?”
“I don’t know! We hear so many reports, but we know that most rumors are false.”
After a further short discussion together, one of them said, “You may now go to your house until we send for you,” and as we hastened to get off the premises, the interpreter followed us to the door and said, “They say you must stay in your house; if you go out you are likely to be shot.”
With what gladness and thanksgiving did we retrace our steps. Chinese in their doorways who had seen us going along escorted, and now saw us returning in freedom, gave us a pleased smile, and Jimmy greeted us with relief and thankfulness.
Once again we had been “Covered Up” and not a hair of our heads had been touched. The experience greatly strengthened our faith and gave us fresh courage, and we felt, in our small measure, what the Apostle Paul must have felt, when he wrote to his young friend Timothy, “I was delivered out of the mouth of the lion, and the Lord shall deliver me from every evil work.”
We could not imagine what the end of our isolation would be nor when it would come, but we felt as though ours was, as it were, a test case, and the Lord upon whose Word we had trusted, was allowing us to prove His power and willingness to preserve us in all the circumstances we might have to meet.
Chapter 4: The Girls' Adventures
After Yin Hei got safely back to us from the hospital, we had the great comfort of being all together, and we made up quite a large party. Besides ourselves, there were three of our own girls—Foon Hei, tall, slight and pretty, her own younger sister Yin Hei, a most lively interesting girl of seventeen, and gentle little Be Bui, or Treasure, who is like an April day with her quick alternation of smiles and tears. Then there was their friend, useful Mo Fong, who had just come from Shanghai, and an old woman, called A Shui who was so fond of Yin Hei that she followed her from the hospital at Chiang Chau. Lastly there was the redoubtable Jimmy, who brought our food and kept us in touch with the outer world.
Although the Japanese had not taken Hong Kong, they had full possession of Kowloon, the city on the mainland. Japanese batteries were placed at vantage points all over Kowloon, and during those two weeks from December 12th to 25th, continued to fire at point blank range at the British-held city of Victoria, spread over the steep hill of Hong Kong on the other side of the harbor. The British guns replied, and the citizens of Kowloon had to carry on their daily life in the midst of this artillery battle.
The markets were open for a short time every day. Some, even of the shops, had their doors a crack open, though the windows were boarded up. People without any reserve of food were in a desperate plight and almost every dog and cat and hen in Kowloon was eaten up during those two weeks. A dairy farm on the hills took to slaughtering their milk cows so that they might not fall into the hands of the Japanese and they were sold in the market. Every morning Jimmie would bravely sally forth and buy whatever he could find. Many a meal we had of cows’ backbone, yellow beans, and vegetables, boiled so soft in the pressure cooker that we ate the whole stew, bones and all.
As to the artillery, we were right in the middle of it. Our front windows looked on the harbor with a foreground of a small rocky hill called Sung Wong Tor. The Japanese posted two batteries on this side of the hill and slugged away at the British forts of Lyeemoon at the entrance of the harbor. From our back windows, we could see other batteries quite near us, so we had them behind and before. When one battery was silent the other was sure to be firing.
The house shook, and whether from fear or concussion, the girls and I felt that our hearts shook too. Those days, and especially the nights were rather terrible. The girls slept all close together on the floor of the tiny kitchen with the door shut, but none of us took off our clothes and we often wondered whether we should ever see the morning. The fiercest attacks were made at night, and you could hear the whistle of shells, the concussion of nearby guns, and the more distant rattle of machine guns. We wondered how long the city could hold out and whether any of our friends would be left alive. We often spent much of the night praying.
It was a relief when the morning came and as we all gathered round the table at breakfast with bowls of rice porridge, we felt quite cheerful. After breakfast, came our daily reading which was from the Psalms, and the blessed promises we found in them gave us unspeakable comfort.
One morning it was the 23rd psalm, and the girls remarked in awe how truly the words had been fulfilled to us, “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.”
After reading, my husband would pray and when we rose from our knees we felt peace, and a confidence that the angel of the Lord did indeed encamp round about them that fear Him.
“I think there is an angel at each corner of the house,” said I. “Far more than that,” said my husband cheerfully.
After prayers, the dishes were washed, and in those nervous days there was many a crash of China. “Well, what’s broken now?” I would ask.
“Only a Japanese cup,” would be the cheerful reply, and few indeed were the Japanese dishes which survived those two weeks.
We all found knitting a relief to the nervous strain, and there was enough wool. But the girls were young and light-hearted and sometimes they chattered and sang till I was obliged to remind them that the Japanese soldiers were just below our windows. In fact a cavalry regiment had tethered their horses so close to our kitchen windows that we could have dropped things onto their backs, and the rough men in charge of the horses were always there.
A Shui, who was an ignorant, village woman, once threw the dust she had just swept up over the front veranda on to the sidewalk. A minute later there was a furious banging on our door. “Where is the woman who threw the dust on the sidewalk? She must come down at once and sweep it up.” Down went poor A Shui, very frightened indeed, and when she had swept up the dust on the sidewalk the Japanese soldier seized the broom and broke it over her back. She came back to our flat crying and sobbing, and it was a long time before she could be comforted.
Several times the Japanese announced falsely that they had taken Hong Kong, but finally the British surrendered on Christmas day. Great was the exultation of the Japanese when they broadcast it. There were triumphal processions all over Kowloon. Then the Japanese soldiers were given an opportunity to loot the subjugated people of Hong Kong.
On the 1st of January there was a formal victory parade through the Hong Kong streets. In the evening we could hear the Japanese company which was quartered just behind our flat, come reeling back to camp, notoriously drunk, and singing war songs at the top of their voices. I felt my knees shake, and we all knelt down while my husband earnestly asked God’s protection. We were heard, for the soldiers went quietly home.
Japanese soldiers had visited us several times and had taken whatever they cared for in the way of watches, pens, sweaters, etc. Later their visits had been more friendly, but we had succeeded in keeping the girls hidden whenever they came. Eventually, however, they found out that there were girls in the flat, and one evening several soldiers came to the door demanding them. Agonized prayers went up for the girls in their great danger. My husband and Jimmy politely explained that these girls were our daughters. We then entertained the soldiers with tea and bread and jam which they politely accepted, and then went quietly away. We felt that this was indeed the Lord’s deliverance.
Next morning, however, we decided that the girls must leave us. We had already heard from another of our Christian Yeung Kong girls who was a nurse in the Kwong Wa Hospital, that this hospital was out of bounds to Japanese soldiers. So next morning, January 7th, the girls packed up their things. They could only take what they could carry and how many treasures they had to leave behind! Then they dressed in their oldest clothes and tied kerchiefs over their heads. We gave them most of our money; there was a short prayer commending them to the Lord, and then came the parting. I seem to still hear Be Bui sobbing and Jimmy telling her not to cry.
How lonely and empty the flat seemed without them, and yet how thankful we were that they were safely away. Brave Foon Hei and A Shui came back every day or so to tell us how they were getting on. After a few days at the hospital, Mo Ching, the Yeung Kong nurse with whom they had been staying, decided to go with a party of Chinese nurses back to Free China. She came to say goodbye, her face all alight with courage and resolve, and we have heard since, that the Lord preserved her through all her adventures.
After she left, the girls went to stay with another Yeung Kong friend called Chan Mooi, who had been teaching in Kowloon. As soon as she heard of the bombing of Pearl Harbor, she—wiser than I—had gone out and bought a sack of rice, so now she had plenty of rice and gladly shared it with the girls.
Then one day Foon Hei and Chan Mooi came to tell us that there were junks sailing from Chiang Chan to Yeung Kong, and many Yeung Kong people were going back in them. Their plan was to go by sampan to Chiang Chan, an island about fifteen miles from Hong Kong where there was a fishing port. From this little port, the Yeung Kong junks always sailed, and the girls hoped to be able to board one at once.
The girls, of course, were keen to go, but wanted to consult us first. The risks were great, because besides Japanese cruisers which had been shooting Chinese junks at sight, there were also many pirates. But to stay on in a starving city, full of wicked Japanese soldiers, and with no means of supporting themselves, seemed even more hazardous, so we gave our consent, and said goodbye to Foon Hei who looked thin and worn.
They were to leave on the sampan the next day, January 7th, and as they did not come back, we knew they must have gone. Our prayers followed them constantly, but month after month passed and still no word of them. I often felt desperately low in spirit, but my husband always believed that they got safely home. And as we experienced God’s deliverances and keeping power for ourselves, we felt more certain that He had also kept our children. Often a verse in the 84th Psalm came with comfort to me.
“The swallow hath found a house and the sparrow a nest for herself; where she may lay her young, even thine altars... my King and my God.” The little birds were not a sacrifice but were in the safest place they could be.
Meantime we also had great anxiety over our dear friends Miss Hayman and Miss Hayhoe and our other two girls who were with them in Singapore. When Singapore fell, we thought of all the horrors that had befallen Hong Kong, and trembled for the little household of women in Singapore. Still we counted on the power and love of God to keep them as He had kept us.
Then, almost six months later, in June, came a little Chinese letter from Be Bui―one of the most welcome letters I have ever received. As I deciphered Be Bui’s Chinese characters, came the joyful news that they had boarded a junk the day after reaching Chiang Chau, and that twenty-four hours later, with a fair wind they had safely reached home. Be Bui had had pneumonia during the winter but was now better. Best of all they had letters from Hei Mong and Tien Fuk from India, where they and Miss Hayman and Miss Hayhoe had been evacuated a few days before Singapore fell.
After that, Be Bui, Yin Hei, and I kept up a regular correspondence and it was a great comfort. I knew my Chinese letters would have to pass the Japanese censor, but was always most careful what I wrote, and used to sign myself Grandmother Ko.
Foon Hei easily got a position in a high school, and the following year married a teacher in the same school.
Yin Hei’s brother supported her, as it was impossible for her to work. She went through a period of desperate loneliness and discouragement, and then I believe found the sweetness of the will of God. The others wrote cheerfully about her, and we thought the disease must have abated, but she died quite suddenly in November, 1945.
Be Bui also suffered very much from poverty, ill health, and loneliness. She had several different positions as a teacher, and finally became engaged to a young man who loved her very dearly. They were married early in 1946.
Chapter 5: A "Prepared" Water Valve
“Well, here’s sad news!” Jimmy greeted us one afternoon when he returned from his daily wanderings.
“What is it now, Jimmy? More propaganda?” I asked, for the Japanese daily poured out a stream of allied disasters which, if believed, would have caused the poor people of Hong Kong to give up all hope of ever again seeing British or American ships enter the harbor.
“No, not propaganda, but proper trouble for us all,” Jimmy replied. “The Japanese are sending around papers to all the houses to say that the water is going to be shut off, and anyone that wants water must pay eighty yen to get it turned on again.”
That was indeed bad news for us, for we were then very low in funds, and eighty yen was too much for us to hope to pay.
Next day the coolie woman, who paid us daily visits to carry off the garbage, confirmed the news.
“Koh Shi Nai,” she said, “soon you will have no water. Japanese leave one tap on street three blocks from here. I glad bring you water in pails, but too many people wait there. Must wait all day get two pails, and must get for our own house.”
“But, A Mo,” my wife said, “even if you had the time to carry for us, we have not the money to give you for it.”
“I think I will have to carry some water. But with so many people waiting, I will have to do it in the late night, and that is very much danger,” Jimmy said bravely.
“We will wait until the time comes and see what happens. I am sure we shall find some way,” said my wife. “We have been so marvelously cared for up to the present, that we can be sure the Lord will enable us to get water in some way.”
During the next few days the water question was a burning topic of conversation with everyone that visited us, and it was also a constant subject for our prayers each day, but we did not get any bright ideas as to how we would overcome the trouble when the water really was cut off.
Each evening we would fill a large earthenware tub to the top, and each morning we would turn on the tap in the kitchen first thing, to see whether the precious fluid was still with us.
One day A Mo came in with a troubled face. “The water coolies and the Japanese are in the next block, and are turning off the water at each house.” she told us.
During the next two hours, we took frequent peeps down to the lane at the back, where the water pipes ran. About 11 a.m. we saw a coolie, accompanied by a Japanese in khaki approach our gate, and while we sadly watched, he opened the water trap and screwed down the valve, removing the key so that it could not again be opened.
“That’s the end of our water, I fear,” I told my wife. But she would not give up her expectation of getting a supply somehow, and out of curiosity went into the kitchen and turned on the tap.
Immediately a thin trickle of water began to flow. “Perhaps that is just what is left in the pipe,” I suggested, though I should have realized it would not have flowed like that on the third floor if there had not been some pressure behind it.
But the little trickle showed no signs of stopping, and we realized that it was likely to run thus as long as the tap was open.
“Evidently there was a defect in the valve and it does not sit closely on its seat,” I said. “All we have to do is to put one of those bed boards across from the tap, sloping down to the tub and let it run continuously, and we shall have all the water we need.” We did so, and by nightfall our big tub was full and running over.
Jimmy was delighted when he learned of this unexpected supply, thankful that he would not have to carry water from the distant street tap.
“Fine!” he exclaimed, “no need for eighty yen now!” But my wife’s conscience began to trouble her.
“Do you think that it will be right to use the water supply without paying for it?” she said. “Won’t that be stealing?”
This was rather a poser for me, but Jimmy had the answer ready.
“No! No! that’s not stealing. You prayed the Lord to give you water and He has given it to you.”
And the more I thought the matter over the more readily did I agree that it was indeed from the Lord, and that we need not have a conscience about using the water so marvelously provided.
Later when I was reading in Jonah that “The Lord prepared a gourd,” the thought came to me “Surely the Lord prepared that defective water valve, that our prayers might be answered.” And we gave Him the praise.
Chapter 6: "Between His Shoulders"
“We have thought of Thy loving-kindness, O God.” Psa. 48:9
With the passing of the months of the Japanese occupation, the first ferocity of victory and tenseness of fear had gradually abated, and people who were not of the enemy races were allowed about more freely. The Chinese and Filipinos had never been regarded as enemies even though their countries were resisting the Japanese and they were never interned; indeed the vast numbers of the former which thronged the streets of Hong Kong made internment impossible.
There were also a number of neutrals, Portuguese, Norwegians, Danes, and Swedes, etc., and many Eurasians who were not interned.
Among these we had several very close friends and after some weeks, several of them discovered that we were still in our flat and would pay us periodical visits, generally bringing with them something to help our needs.
The first occasion on which we had contact with these friends was when we heard a gentle tap at our door, and after inquiring, “Hai bin ko?” without being able to grasp the reply given, we opened the door a short way on the chain and were surprised and delighted to find our dear friend, Mr. R. L. It was he who had so cheered me up on that depressing afternoon a few weeks earlier by assuring me that the Lord could preserve us in safety as easily in Kowloon as in Hong Kong.
When he saw my wife and me peering through the partly opened door, his face was a study of relief and surprise, and I am sure ours must have registered the same.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise!” he ejaculated as I hurriedly undid the chain and invited him in. “I never expected to find you here, as I thought you and Mrs. Collier must have been taken to Stanley Camp long before this. I thought I would come up to see if the girls could be here still, or if I could learn anything about you all.”
He told us that when he saw the two lower flats of the buildings looted and in ruins he had almost despaired of finding anyone living in the apartment. As there were Japanese soldiers swaggering along the street, he had not dared to come in for some time, but walked slowly past the front door until he saw no Japanese watching, and then ducked inside, and made his way up the stairs with very little hope until he got to our landing and found the two doors there standing intact.
What a time of thanksgiving we had then, for our thoughts had often followed him during the two weeks of heavy fighting on Hong Kong Island after Kowloon had fallen, and we had prayed for him and many other dear friends of whom he was now able to give us news. Of one or two, the news was that they had fallen in the fighting, but it was a wonderful cheer to us, and stimulus to our faith, to learn of so many known to us who had come through the time of destruction and carnage unscathed.
Our good friend spent a couple of hours with us and went away promising to come soon again. After this he came fairly regularly and in the months of financial difficulties that followed, he proved a wonderful help and cheer.
A few months after that first visit, I mentioned to him about some boxes of medicines that I had purchased when first we had come out to Hong Kong. Owing to the Japanese blockade of the Chinese coast, even before Pearl Harbor, our Chinese doctors in Yeung Kong had found great difficulty in getting medical supplies through from Hong Kong. Hearing that we were leaving for a visit to Hong Kong, several doctors asked us to purchase medicines for them, and on arrival I had bought up about $600.00 (H. K.) worth of various drugs, medicines and supplies and packed them in tin boxes ready for the return journey.
These boxes had been stored at Tai Loy’s the compradore or grocer, from whom we expected to order our own groceries, to await the packing of the grocery order in similar boxes of about forty pounds each for the long journey back.
“What a pity that we tied up that six hundred dollars in those medicines. We could have used the money so much better now,” my wife said. “But I suppose all those medicines have been taken by the Japs now!”
“We would have lost the money if it had remained in the bank,” I reminded her.
“Perhaps the medicines may still be at Tai Loy’s,” our friend suggested. “Not many of those compradores on Queen Victoria Street suffered during the fighting, and though they are not doing business they have people on the premises. I will call and ask about your boxes next time I go across to Hong Kong.”
About three days later he came again to see us, with the good news that the manager had told him that our goods were still hidden on the premises.
“If Mr. Koh gives you a letter to me I will hand everything over to you,” Mr. Slo, the manager had told him.
“I think I can sell these medicines for you at a good profit as prices are going up every day,” Mr. L. told us. “But I will have to do it carefully, only taking a little at a time, as every time I cross the ferry I am searched and a large quantity of medical supplies would probably make trouble.”
We realized that he was running a risk and did not wish him to endanger himself, but he made light of it, and finally I gave him a note to Tai Loy’s.
After that, our good friend would sell a little each week and bring us the funds and it was largely upon these supplies that we lived for the next fourteen months. With the increase in prices the investment of $600.00 (H. K.) realized about 2000 yen, upon which we could have lived comfortably under ordinary circumstances, but which required very careful management with the high prices that prevailed for all commodities.
One of the first acts of the Japanese on obtaining victory had been to devaluate the Hong Kong dollar. Before the war it was equal or better than the yen but the Japanese published notice that in the future, one yen would be equal to two H. K. dollars. This caused much distress to those who had dollars but a few months later a new valuation was made, and Hong Kong dollars were stated to be four dollars to one yen.
Food had become increasingly scarce and prices mounted rapidly, and this devaluation hastened the process and brought poverty and starvation to thousands.
Our original supply of money had been in H. K. ten dollar bills, but we had given most of that to the girls when they left us to return to Yeung Kong. At that time we little thought that we would continue on month after month living independent of any help from the Japanese, and we imagined that the few bills we kept would be sufficient to tide us over until we were placed in an internment camp.
These slight resources, however, under the Lord’s gracious ordering were like the widow’s cruse of oil and the handful of meal in the barrel, for He renewed them week by week as they became exhausted.
One day as we were speaking to some visiting friends of the text upon the wall, which had brought us encouragement and hope, one asked, “Just what do you think it means, ‘he shall dwell between His shoulders’”?
“I believe that the shoulders speak of the place of strength and power of the Lord,” I replied, and I thought how wonderfully the Lord had borne us along through those past months of trial. Surely He had caused us “to dwell between His shoulders,” and we could count upon experiencing the same grace to the end!
When Jimmy first began buying our food at the beginning of our confinement, my wife would tell him to try and keep his expenditures down to fifty cents a day for the three of us, after the girls had left us. Generally he would buy twenty cents worth of “Miau Yi” ―the little sardine-like fish which formerly were sold for feeding cats―about ten cents worth of “choi” or greens and a small supply of beans or a few sweet potatoes.
It was not long, however, before the fifty cents a day had to be increased to three dollars a day and it still continued to increase.
Fuel was a very costly item, but we managed to economize by buying a kind of brazier (a fire box made of a paint drum lined with clay) in which we could burn “mud balls.” These were balls of clay and coal dust, mixed and dried in the sun. They required considerable skill and effort to get them burning, but when once alight gave off a good heat.
As much of the furniture of the flat as we could spare, we had broken up for kindling, and our dear friend, Mr. R. L., who had emptied his mother’s comfortable, but unoccupied apartment by breaking up all the furniture and distributing it among his friends, often arrived at our door with a suitcase full of chips and fragments of beautiful, polished teak, mahogany and blackwood furniture which gave splendid heat for lighting our “mud balls.”
The lighting of the brazier was a twice daily travail, for the balls would give off thick clouds of acrid smoke which would fill the small kitchen of the flat. One had to stand and fan the blazing sticks for about twenty minutes, with frequent rushes to the outer room, gasping and choking for fresh air, and one’s eyes streaming with tears, before the balls would begin to burn.
At the beginning we could buy the balls for two dollars a hundred pounds but as time wore on and the supplies of coal dust stored in Hong Kong diminished, the balls increased vastly in price, but decreased in quality so that towards the end we were paying thirteen hundred yen or fifty two H. K. dollars for balls which had so little coal dust that they would hardly burn.
As we had no electric light we spent a good many evenings in darkness, going to bed early, but Mrs. Koh was very adept at fashioning lights of some sort out of anything that could be used.
A thorough search through the apartment had disclosed some odds and ends of wax, some pieces of paraffin from the tops of preserves, some wax crayons, etc., and all these were utilized to roll out candles with a piece of twisted cotton string for wick. One day she sacrificed an ancient wax doll which was melted down and rolled into candles, but she did not enjoy that light very much as she said it made her feel like a cannibal!
For some nights we utilized a bottle of rancid cod-liver oil which we found in the medicine cupboard. A little was poured into a shallow saucer and a piece of twine placed in it with just one saturated end lying above the edge of the saucer. When the end was lit, it would burn brightly for a few minutes until the flame burned the string to the surface of the oil when the flame would give place to smoke, and if unattended, the light would sputter and die out. Our experience with that light brought to me fresh thoughts on the expression of the Prophet Isaiah, “the smoking flax shall He not quench,” for the smoking string had to be handled carefully, and gently pushed up a little higher out of the oil. A sudden and hasty attempt to adjust it generally caused the string to submerge in the oil, and the light would be quenched.
When we had no more wax or oil substitutes, we managed to get a little lamp which burned kerosene by means of a small piece of candlewick. This was later on when we were able to get about and purchase for ourselves. Kerosene was then selling for one yen an ounce, and I had a three-ounce medicine bottle which I would use, buying three yen worth at a time, and thus was assured that I was not cheated in the measuring as was a very common practice of the vendors.
Jimmy left us on June 15th to return to Shanghai, and after his departure, some kind Chinese friends, Mr. and Mrs. Rufus H., who lived in Kowloon City, not far from our apartment, undertook the purchasing of our supplies and continued doing so until the day in October when we were finally allowed to go out on the streets and could market for ourselves.
During August and September, both of us began to feel the effects of the confinement and poor food. Mrs. Koh had frequent attacks of malaria and I suffered from beri beri, but our kind friends vied with each other in trying to get us the medicine we needed. Mr. R. L. very generously supplied my wife with his own meager stock of quinine, and from a chemist friend obtained for me a tonic of Vitamin Bl.
Other friends also provided us with a supply of soy beans and with the ·aid of our little stone hand mill we were able to make up a supply of soy bean milk twice a day, which is one of the best sources of Vitamin Bl. One day in September we had a visit from a Yeung Kong girl, niece of our old Bible woman, Ching Yi Koo. She was employed by a Norwegian missionary out in the country, and having heard of our position had asked permission to visit us. Her employer very kindly sent us a loaf of bread and a very welcome tin of jam, and wrote a letter asking whether we had notified the former British Medical Officer, who was uninterned, of our position. It was the first we had heard of Dr. Selwyn-Clarke, who had not been interned by the Japanese because he was an authority on epidemic control. Though under strict surveillance, he had done a wonderful work in caring for the sick in Stanley Internment Camp and also providing for the many Chinese and Eurasian dependents of the British forces who were not interned, and any others he could help.
A few days later this previously unknown Norwegian missionary called 9n Dr. Selwyn-Clarke, and told him about us. Dr. Clarke sent his assistant to see us, with an enquiry as to. our health and necessities. We were sitting one evening after the disposal of our frugal supper, when there came a knock on our door. After the usual interrogation we opened it to find a young lady standing without, who introduced herself as Dr. Clarke’s assistant who was responsible for investigating all cases of need among British or American dependents on the Kowloon side.
Miss L. proved herself to be as capable as she was charming and had come prepared to help, bringing with her some bread and a few “siege biscuits.” These biscuits had been compounded by a British dietician before the war, and were supposed to be so nutritious that two biscuits would supply a man sufficient sustenance for a day. The Hong Kong Government had prepared large stores of these in readiness for a lengthy siege, but the capitulation had come so quickly that few of them were used until later, when the Japanese put them on sale. Afterward they were sold off readily, the price rising up to six yen per pound.
My wife was delighted to find that our visitor was one of a class of little girls that she had taught at the Diocesan School years ago when the unrest in China had driven her out from Yeung Kong to spend a year in Hong Kong.
Miss L. brought us the cheering news that Dr. Selwyn-Clarke would present our case to the Japanese Foreign Affairs Department and hoped that he could obtain passes which would permit us to go out on the streets.
This seemed almost too good to be true, as we had hardly imagined anything better than being preserved from the Internment Camp. How slow we often are to realize that “with God all things are possible” and that nothing can be “too good to be true” because He desires that we should have the best, according to the riches of His grace.
Dr. Selwyn-Clarke was as good as his word, and about three weeks later we received instructions to cross the harbor to the Island, have identification photos taken and fill in an application form.
As we had not been on the street since the day in June when we had been escorted to the Gendarmerie and had been sent home with the threat that if we were caught on the streets we would be shot, it was in the nature of a thrilling adventure when we again left our door.
Our good friend Mr. H., who was as pleased at the prospect of our freedom as we were, kindly came over to guard the flat during our absence.
It was with some trepidation that we made our way down to the ferry two miles away, but we tried to look quite unconcerned and indifferent when we passed the searchers who felt us over before permitting us on the ferry.
How strange it seemed to be again walking the familiar streets of Hong Kong, which now looked very dead as far as business was concerned, but crowded with Japanese soldiers and marines.
Numbers of sidewalk photographers were busy making portraits, for the Japanese demanded that even the Chinese must carry identification papers and be registered. We had our pictures taken, but they made us look such terrible characters that we wondered whether the Japanese would be willing to give us passes after all. We could not afford to waste the money for a second trial and so went on to Dr. Clarke’s office.
The doctor was not in and we had to wait a couple of hours for his return, but he had a young Englishman as office assistant who made the time pass quickly and pleasantly for us. He gave us very much news of the outer world which we had not heard and also told us much as to the conditions in the various internment camps. He had himself been released from Stanley to help Dr. Selwyn-Clarke but was so thin and pale that we imagined he could have hardly endured the camp conditions much longer.
From him we learned much of the splendid work that Dr. Clarke was doing and the terrific handicaps under which he was working, flouted and hindered by the Japanese, who were all the time suspicious of him, or jealous of every effort he made to relieve the sufferings of the soldiers and civilians in their camps.
When Dr. Selwyn-Clarke came in he was most kind and solicitous about our circumstances, and expressed surprise that we had been able to exist for so long under such difficulties, but we were able to tell him whence our help had come.
About a week later, on October 8th, we received our passes from the Department of Foreign Affairs. These were in Chinese and Japanese, the Chinese characters stating that the party whose name and picture was shown, was British, of such and such an age and occupation but was “an enemy, of good behavior and therefore permitted to go about on the streets.”
After we received our passes, life took on a very much brighter aspect for us as we were able to go out each day to the market and get out own food, and also had opportunities for visiting many friends and enjoying fellowship with them.
Each morning I started out before breakfast, after having lit the brazier, and would visit the stalls to see what could be bought economically. At that time I realized afresh how much cause we had for thankfulness for the past months when we were shut up, because we had by this means escaped from seeing many horrible sights of Japanese atrocities of which others told us.
Generally my few purchases would occupy about an hour, and I would get back to find the rice gruel ready for our breakfast and the soy bean milk steaming hot.
Later on, toward the end of our time, prices got so much higher and money so scarce that I would often have to pack a couple of suitcases with books and sell them on the street to get the money for our meal. It really seemed grievous to sell books that we had valued for years, especially as they were only bought to be broken up, the pages pasted into sheets and bags to enable merchants to enclose their sales. The usual price was forty sen a pound and I sometimes felt quite elated when I found a paper dealer who would offer sixty sen per pound for a pile of old magazines.
Paper was certainly a valuable commodity and it was always quite an interest when buying a half pound of oysters or a couple of pounds of beans to see what paper was used to wrap the purchase. Sometimes we would get leaves from what had once been jealously guarded private ledgers from some of the big English firms.
A few days after receiving our passes, we had notice served to us that we must move within a week as our apartment was to be torn down to make room for the airfield enlargement.
It was quite a staggering blow as we knew that there were few empty houses still livable. Any vacant houses were quickly robbed of all their woodwork, and the looters would leave very little standing beyond the bare walls. In many places the wooden floors, doors, windows and frames had long since disappeared in the darkness of the night, to appear probably next morning in the form of firewood for sale on the street at fifty sen or one yen per pound.
Our friends sympathized with us and hurried around to find accommodation for us but for several days nothing could be found. In reading Proverbs one morning I came across the words “House and riches are the inheritance of fathers” (Prov. 19:14), and found in them a message of comfort, for we had a Father who was all-powerful and could surely provide the house we so badly needed.
That morning we had a visit from our good Swedish friend, Mr. J. and we told him of our predicament. He remarked how impossible it seemed to be able to find anything and promised to make inquiries for us.
Next day we were surprised to have another visit from him.
“I suppose you have not yet found a place to move to?” he asked. We assured him that we seemed as far from the end of our quest as ever.
“My wife has a house in Homuntin, of which the upper flat is vacant and she would be glad for you to have it, if you cannot find anything better. She had rented the lower part of the house to some Chinese, as she thought, for a residence, but to her annoyance they have set up equipment on the premises for cracking crude oil for the Japanese and we can do nothing about it.”
We lost no time in viewing the premises and though the Chinese below us did not seem very eager that we should become their neighbors, we were very thankful to accept the kind offer.
This house was in a district largely inhabited by the better-class Portuguese and nearby was a large Japanese Gendarmerie and on the same street, a few doors above us, a large private mansion had been commandeered for a barracks for the Indian troops that the Japanese were enlisting for their Indian Army. It was a place where we were not likely to be in danger of armed robbers, but at the same time was well protected with barred windows and door-gratings.
Our next problem was to get our goods transferred from Tam Kung Road to Julia Street, a matter of about two miles. Again everything seemed to work out favorably for us.
Mr. H. called one day and said, “The Japanese office in charge of the airfield demolition work is supposed to pay forty yen for moving expenses to every tenant that is dispossessed.”
“They are not likely to give it to enemy nationals even if they have turned us out,” I replied.
Then he told me that the matter of reparations for the district was in the hands of a Chinese gentleman whom he had known formerly and he would speak to him about our case.
Next day he called again. “Mr.―was very sympathetic when he heard your case, and assures me that you should get the eighty yen. His instructions do not say anything about refusing it to enemy nationals and he will see that you get it if you call at his office and fill in the necessary papers.”
In the meantime Mr. J. had brought along his former carpenter who owned a hand truck, and he had promised to come the following day and move everything for us. Our furniture had continued to dwindle away as we broke up whatever we could spare and there was not a great deal left beyond a bed, some chairs, a couple of tables, two bookcases, a number of trunks and various kitchen ware but his truck was small and had to be piled high to get everything moved in two trips.
Wong, the mover, had promised to come at nine, but it was after ten when he appeared with his truck and four women coolies to carry down and load the stuff, and they proved a helpless lot, so that it was nearly noon before we got under way with the first load.
Before we had gone more than a few hundred yards, Wong discovered that one of the balloon tires on his truck was punctured and so we had to wait about half an hour while this was attended to. I had to accompany the load while Mrs. Collier prepared the remainder of the things at the flat for transportation.
While we were waiting on the street a company of Chinese youths, armed with sticks and with armbands on their sleeves approached Wong.
“Where have these things come from and what truck is this?” they asked.
Wong told them that I had asked him to move our furniture from Tam Kung Road to Homuntin.
Immediately a clamor arose and the youths began to harangue him, shaking their sticks at him and I could see that he was really scared.
He came over to me and said, “We will have to unload these things onto the street. I may not go any farther.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” I told him. “You have contracted to take them to Homuntin and must do so.”
Then the Chinese youths came at me and one who spoke English asked me my nationality. He told me it was against Japanese orders for us to move like that and that he was head of a guild which alone had authority to move anyone in that district.
Again he told Wong that he must unload the truck, and I must apply to the guild for another truck to do the moving. Poor Wong was in a dilemma for he was out of his familiar district and did not want trouble with any Japanese-sponsored guild.
I was confident, however, that the Lord had ordered everything so favorably for us that there could not now be a hitch. Calling the young fellow over, I told him that the Japanese had given me eighty yen for my moving and had sanctioned my going to Homuntin.
“You must come with me now to the Gendarmerie and I will have them make it clear to you.”
This was not at all what he wished, however, and so he began to speak more peaceably and said we could be allowed to go on if we paid him twenty yen. I refused to do this and insisted that he should come with me to the Japanese, though I hoped he would not do so, for there was no telling what stand the Japanese might take.
Just then one of his supporters saw some Japanese gendarmes coming in the distance and said something to his chief at which they all turned and went off in the opposite direction.
Before many minutes our wheel was fixed and we were on our way, but it was three o’clock before the truck got back for the second load and my wife had been waiting anxiously and fearing that we had been stopped by the Japanese. The second load came through without trouble and that night we settled down in the comfortable flat that had been so unexpectedly provided for us and where we were to know a measure of happiness and peace that could hardly have been imagined possible under the circumstances.
It was with deep thankfulness to the Father who had so graciously provided the house and also to the dear friends who had been His agents that we retired that night.
Chapter 7: Ravens
“Well, Jimmy, I am afraid we must ration ourselves more closely. We are coming to the end of some of our supplies. There is very little flour left to make bread.”
It was my wife breaking to poor Jimmy the news that our meals, which seemed meager already, would have to become yet more scant.
Poor Jimmy! Though he liked to be called by an English name and to speak English whenever he had opportunity, yet he could not help his Chinese fondness for rice, and our breakfasts, consisting of a small bowl of rice gruel with a pickle and about one ounce of bread, left him with a decided appetite for more. His rice would slip down his throat very quickly and then he would sit, hungrily and impatiently watching our more slow enjoyment of the scanty portion.
“I will go out today and see if I can buy some flour,” Jimmy replied, but we did not have much hope that his quest would be successful, for in the early days of the war the shopkeepers were keeping their stocks hidden.
Toward evening, Jimmy returned with evident satisfaction over the result of his excursion.
“I got a pound of flour,” he greeted us, “there was not much to buy and the compradore wanted too much money, but I know you people must have bread.”
My wife took the package and examined the contents critically.
“It does not look like very good flour,” she remarked, “but I will try it tomorrow and if it makes bread you might try to get another pound.”
Alas! however, in spite of a fresh cake of her fast-diminishing yeast, the dough showed no sign of rising and on further examination of the flour we found that it was composed largely of starch and other adulterants.
Next day Jimmy returned for the evening meal with greater excitement than he usually showed.
“Today I visited my very good friend from Swatow and he gave me a very good meal. And see, what he has sent for you,” he exulted, and to our surprised gaze brought out of the pocket of his long Chinese robe two priceless tins of Tuna Breasts.
“But how can they have such things to give away, when they cannot be bought now?” we asked.
Jimmy’s reply was ready. “He is a very fine Christian. Before the war, had very much business selling Swatow goods on board the steamers. Whenever beggars came to his door he would always fill them up with rice and never turn them away. When the British left Kowloon the beggars all looted the godowns (dock warehouses) and then took some of the cases of foodstuffs to my friend for his kindness to them.”
“But if they are stolen goods we can hardly accept them,” my wife suggested doubtfully.
“No! No!” Jimmy said emphatically, “they were not stolen but looted. The British took away all that they could, and then threw the doors of the godowns open and called the beggars to take away all they wanted, so that nothing might fall to the Japanese. Many people got many cases of corned beef and other canned goods which they would like to get rid of for rice.”
This explanation removed all our scruples and we enjoyed those Tuna Breasts immensely and with very grateful thoughts toward the unknown donor.
A few days later we were sitting, reading, when there came a gentle tap on the door.
“Hai bin koh?” I called loudly, for there were many armed robbers going about and no one dared open their doors without knowing who was without.
A familiar voice answered, “It is C. J. I have learned that you were here and so came to call on you.” Quickly we opened the door to greet a dear Swedish friend with whom we had in past days enjoyed much fellowship.
Though he was a neutral, and therefore not interned, Mr. J. had seen some perilous times since the outbreak of hostilities, and only his alertness and courage had, on one occasion, preserved him from the attack of four armed robbers, whom he had put to flight, capturing from them the weapons with which they had attempted their assault. We had much to relate to each other of our experiences and the Lord’s preserving care, and several hours passed happily.
As he rose to take his departure, Mr. J. laid on the table a large biscuit box he was carrying, saying, “As a neutral I am allowed a ration of flour, but my wife does not bake, so we buy our bread, and I thought perhaps you could use this flour.”
We gratefully thanked him and told him of our diminished supply and my wife told him also that she had been confident that some flour would come before we were entirely out, because she believed the Lord had given her the promise that our bread should “be certain” and our “water sure.”
In after months, more than once, did our good friend pass on to us his own ration of flour, and others also brought us portions, until the time came, about eleven months later, when we had a flour ration of our own, so that during the twenty-one months of our life under the Japanese, there was only one day on which we had absolutely no bread. Surely, in this as in so much else, we could see the loving watchful care of our Lord.
One morning we heard footsteps outside our door, followed by a whispered conversation and then a sharp rap on the door.
Again I challenged, “Bin koh?” This time a refined Chinese voice replied.
“This is Mr. K―, I would like to see Mr. Koh.” I had heard of Mr. K―, who, as a young man, had worked with Mr. J. L. Willis in Shanghai, and was now carrying on evangelistic work in Kowloon, and so gladly unbarred the door and welcomed him in.
Mr. K―was a tall, well-built man, dressed in a long, gray Chinese robe and with a kindly and intelligent face. He was accompanied by a pleasant-looking Chinese lady, dressed in a becoming robe of black silk, whom he introduced as Mrs. C., a member of his congregation.
After kind inquiries as to our health and needs, Mr. K. told us he had the warmest remembrances of Mr. Willis and so when he heard of our being in Kowloon, he decided to call to see if he could do anything for us. We found him an earnest and enlightened Christian who delighted to speak of the things of God, and seemed anxious to be guided by the Word of God. When they rose to leave, he told us that Mrs. C. had accompanied him because the Lord had laid it on her heart to bring us some rice and a gift of twenty yen.
Some months after this visit, at a time when funds were very low, Mrs. C. very generously paid our rice bill for six weeks.
Another day, Jimmy’s friend from Swatow called; a pleasant man whose round, cheerful countenance beamed with good nature, and he brought with him ten pounds of wheat, which we were able to grind on our stone mill and make into very good whole-wheat bread, and also a dozen beautiful Leghorn eggs which were then selling at about one dollar apiece. After that first visit, he would generally visit us about once a month to know how we were making out, and always had some generous gift with him.
These were not the only Chinese who brought us gifts of various kinds, sometimes a few sweet potatoes, a pound or two of rice or Indian corn, or a couple of dollars, and all of these had been complete strangers to us, but were constrained by the love of Christ because we also belonged to Him.
We have often heard people speaking disparagingly of Chinese Christians, calling them “rice Christians,” and hinting that their profession of Christianity was made for the sake of some material gain that they hoped to get. Generally we can be sure that the people who thus speak are themselves ignorant of the power of the Gospel of Christ and have not known the grace of God in their own lives. They do not know the reality of the bonds of love which bind together those who are the children of God being indwelt by the Holy Spirit. We are sometimes apt to stifle and forget those ties, and it is when we are cast in circumstances of danger and difficulty that we learn that “A brother is born for adversity” and we prove that love which is “in deed and in truth.”
One fine Sunday afternoon several of our friends happened to call on us and as they were all Christians who loved the Lord, though some of them Chinese, some Portuguese and other European nationals, we were having a little time over our Bible.
While thus engaged, a knock sounded on the door and an unfamiliar voice called my name. Opening the door, I was surprised to see a foreign-looking man in the long black robe of an R. C. priest. Somewhat wondering, I invited him in and when he saw about a dozen people gathered in our room, he was rather taken aback.
“I would like to speak to you privately,” he told me, so I led him to the far end of the room.
He then introduced himself as an Italian priest connected with a nearby hospital but had been away in Macao for a week or two.
“Your friend, Mr. G., heard I was returning to Hong Kong and asked my superior that I might call and see how you were making out.” Then pulling out an envelope from an inner pocket, he said, “Your Canadian friends in Macao sent you two hundred yen. Please give me a receipt, but do not speak about it, for the Japanese would make trouble.”
It was, indeed, with gratitude to God and to these dear friends, who had thought of us and sent us this timely help out of their own deep need, that we thanked this unexpected messenger.
More than once, when we received such unlooked-for evidences of God’s providence, my mind would dwell upon the words of the Lord’s command to Elijah, “Hide thyself by the brook Cherith... I have commanded the ravens to feed thee there.” I could echo the words of the Psalmist of old, “Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God.”
Chapter 8: Jimmy Departs for Shanghai
Jimmy was with us from Pearl Harbor day. He shared our dangers through the troublous days of the fighting and the anxieties and vicissitudes which followed; also he bought our food for us and shared our meals, though he slept in a lodging of his own, not far away. We felt that his being with us was the Lord’s ordering both for him and for us. However, Jimmy was essentially a restless character. He had never stayed very long in one place, and as spring came on, his thoughts began to turn to Shanghai which was more like home to him than anywhere else in China.
“My sister has a rice shop in Shanghai,” he said, “and my father lives there. I think they will be glad to see me.” They had never previously helped him when he was hard up, but we hoped that they would stand by him if he went back.
Things seemed to be going from bad to worse in Hong Kong; food was scarcer and prices higher every day. The Japanese were only too anxious for people to leave the city; and every day or two, parties of men, women, and children were setting out on foot for distant cities or villages in the interior. They went in large parties for greater protection against the bandits who infested the roads. The Japanese granted them permits, and insisted on their being inoculated against cholera.
Jimmy heard of a party soon leaving for Shanghai which was about eight hundred miles from Hong Kong by road. It seemed a desperate undertaking to set out for a walk of eight hundred miles with the very slender earthly resources which Jimmy could count upon. But the more he thought of it, the more Jimmy felt that he must get back to Shanghai. Others had done it and why should not he?
In the house where he lodged, there was a poor widow and her son who came from a city near Shanghai. They would be traveling the same road and they also were very anxious to get home. Nearby lived a Buddhist priest with whom Jimmy became acquainted, and he also was to be of the party. Jimmy had a Wonderful gift for friendship, and he used to talk to us about this “dear Buddha priest” with whom he had frequent religious arguments which lasted till far into the night. The priest, for his part, seemed attracted to Jimmy, and told him that he ought to strengthen himself for the journey by eating food which would be a tonic to him. One day, Jimmy asked me for some empty tin cans. That “dear Buddha priest” said he, “is going to give me some good stuff which he himself has made, to strengthen me for the journey.”
“What is it made of?” said I. “You had better be careful what you eat, especially when you don’t know what it is.”
“He says he made it out of the bark of trees, mostly pine trees,” replied Jimmy, “and that it will strengthen my body. Priests know a lot about medicine, you know.”
I knew there was something in what he said. The next morning Jimmy arrived at breakfast with the tin full of a greenish powder. He helped himself largely, mixing the powder up with his rice gruel. He generously invited us to have some too, but it tasted so bitter and strong of turpentine that we were content with very little. Jimmy, however, faithfully ate the priest’s powder for a week or two before he left, and though I often feared he would make himself sick, he claimed that he felt better for it.
He now began a regular campaign for collecting money. He went to all his friends, of whom he had a great many, and represented the necessities and dangers of the journey to Shanghai, working on their sympathies to such an extent, that he collected about eighty dollars Hong Kong currency which amounted to about one thousand dollars Chinese money. That was little enough with prices such as they were.
Jimmy had a good many possessions, chiefly clothes―and there were many discussions as to what he should take with him. Obviously he could only take what he could carry and he was not very strong.
“I must carry my Bible,” he said. It was a large heavy Chinese one. “They may ask me to preach” he added meditatively, “and anyway, there will be opportunities for the gospel along the way.” He also wanted to take his warm padded robe, but with great regret he relinquished his tweed suit, hoping it might be sent after him later. Finally he packed all his things into a small suitcase and a bundle, one at each end of a carrying pole.
Then came the question of how to carry his money. There were many bandits on the road who might search his luggage. Some people were having their money sewed between two layers of leather in the soles of their shoes, but Jimmy feared that the bandits might carry off shoes and all. Finally he hit on a brilliant idea. “Mrs. Koh,” he said, “I think the best thing would be for you to bake my money into a loaf of bread.” He bought some flour and I made two loaves of bread. Three hundred dollars, wrapped in wax paper, was in the center of one loaf, and four hundred dollars, similarly wrapped, in the other. When the loaves were baked, no one could have guessed what was inside. The rest of the money was hidden under a large patch on his trousers.
At last, one morning in June, Jimmy set off very cheerfully with the poor widow and her son, and the “dear Buddha priest” and about fifty other people. He seemed to have passed completely out of our narrow Hong Kong world. We prayed for him and often wondered about him, but no word came from him for several months. Then there was a card from him saying that he had reached Foo Chow and had no more money, so was waiting till he had means to go on. Again there was a long wait, and then a Portuguese friend had a letter from a friend in Shanghai who mentioned that he had met Jimmy Davis and that “he was still able to walk.”
Afterward dear Jimmy twice sent us fifty dollars through Chinese shops which had branches in both Shanghai and Hong Kong. It must have been out of his own dire necessity.
We have learned since, that after my brother’s family were interned, Jimmy continued to live on in their house. Sometimes he went to the villages to preach, and after one such expedition he came home probably weak and hungry. There was no one to help him, and he died there in the house. We felt very, very grieved over this, but the Lord makes no mistakes, and He took His servant to a better home.
Chapter 9: Some Hong Kong Friends
During the strange two years in Hong Kong under the Japanese, our lives touched the lives of many others, whose sorrows and adventures were interwoven with our own. The friendships and even the acquaintances which we made in those years had an unforgettable and poignant quality, for starvation was staring us all in the face, and it was only the mercy of God which kept us alive.
Jimmy took an intense interest in the fate of his friends and used to take some trouble to find out how they were getting on. Soon after that first Christmas when Hong Kong surrendered to the Japanese, he discovered that there was an old English lady living with some Indians not far from our flat.
We had once known the old lady, Mrs. A., very well, as she had lived in one flat opposite us. She took care of a little Pekingese dog which belonged to a very rich Jewish family who lived abroad. The dog had an account in the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, and cashed monthly checks by pressing his little paw, wet with ink, on the back of the check. In fact, Mrs. A. was largely supported by the dog, to whom she was deeply devoted. She used often to say, “I have no one in the world but my dog, and she is not really mine.”
At the beginning of hostilities, the looters entered Mrs. A.’s flat, took most of her things and frightened her almost to death. She was found, however, by two kind neighbors who acted the part of the Good Samaritan, and took her and the dog to their own little flat. They were all Roman Catholics and had formerly gone to church together. Mr. Lima was a very tall, black, dignified Indian from Goa. He was a sculptor who had studied art in Rome, and for many years, he had supported himself by making or mending plaster saints for Roman Catholic Churches. Mrs. Lima, who was his second wife, was a Fiji Islander, black as a coal, with fuzzy hair and an engaging smile. In those evil days, as no one could afford plaster saints, Mr. Lima could not earn any money, and became so discouraged that he contemplated suicide. As the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank was closed to enemy nationals, Mrs. A. could not get any money either, and the support of the little family fell upon Mrs. Lima. Her courage and cheerfulness never failed, and she was constantly thinking of new plans for raising money.
Soon after Jimmy found Mrs. A., Mrs. Lima came to visit us, and told us all the details of Mrs. A.’s hard case. Whatever we could spare, we always gave to Mrs. A. and she in turn divided whatever little food she had with her dog. Both Mrs. A. and Mrs. Lima had a good many friends, and Mrs. Lima visited them all in turn, eloquently setting forth Mrs. A.’s troubles, so that by drawing a little help from each one, she managed to get enough to keep going. She would often sell things for us and of course would have a percentage of the money. She was a very frequent visitor, and with her brilliant smile and her sad eyes would ask, “Want to sell anything today Madam?” One day she came with a tiny bundle. It was a newborn girl baby which she carefully unwrapped and suggested that I should adopt. The poor little thing lay there with the expression of peace and aloofness of the newborn. “Take me or leave me! As you like!” But we had no resources to bring up an infant, and did not know when the Japanese might find us and intern us, so felt it impossible to undertake the care of a baby.
“Why not take it to the nun’s foundling hospital?” I said.
After some persuasion, Mrs. Lima wrapped the baby up again and carried it over to the convent where the kind nuns took it in, though they had few resources for the future.
Mrs. Lima, at this time, was earning a living by making new clothes out of old, so she was constantly coming to all her friends to beg for old clothes. She was so smiling, though obviously getting thinner and thinner, that it was impossible to be angry with her. Those first eleven months when we were so straightly shut up, I was glad to have another woman to talk to, even if it was only Mrs. Lima. She would tell me her troubles and her anxiety over her husband. “I am afraid he will be ‘desbrit’,” she said, and I knew she feared he would kill himself.
Mrs. A. gradually lost courage and when the cold, raw days of March came she caught cold on her lungs. “I want to die” she said bitterly to Mrs. Lima. Her last words were “Take care of my dog.” But after her death, the little creature would not taste food again. Mrs. Lima held her in her arms and tears fell from the poor little dog’s eyes. She died two or three days after her mistress.
After Mrs. A.’s death, it was perhaps a little easier for Mrs. Lima. She and Mr. Lima decided to sell curry, (a highly spiced stew favored by East Indians). They had wonderful East Indian recipes and made the hottest and most delicious curry I have ever tasted. For a little while, the curry business was quite a success, but finally people got tired of the curry and found it rather dear. By this time, however, the Portuguese Government was doling out rations of bread and rice to its poor nationals. As Mr. Lima came from God, a Portuguese Colony, he was eligible for these rations, but, alas, he never seemed to be any less hungry. He was so big that it was impossible to fill him up, and he hated the invariable diet of sprats, the small, cheap fish which were all that he could afford. I have a vivid memory of him sitting in our living room, as with an eloquent flourish of his hands, he exclaimed in disgust, “Feesh! Feesh! Feesh!”
Several times, we had them both to a meal, and tried to really fill them both up. I think they enjoyed these occasions immensely, but of course, my efforts at curry were not nearly hot enough. Poor Mr. Lima scarcely knew any English, and with many gestures and head shakings would try to unburden his heart to my husband. In vain, my husband would try in the simplest language to point him to the Savior. He never showed any response or understanding. Mrs. Lima, on the other hand, had a very real, though simple faith, and we often spoke together of these things.
Finally, the Portuguese Government undertook to take all their nationals who desired it, back to Macao, and support them there. After many weeks of waiting, the Lima’s turn came at last. But poor Mr. Lima had suffered too much, and he only lived twelve days after reaching Macao. We received several heartbroken little letters from Mrs. Lima. She had kept up so long, hoping to save her husband, whom she almost worshipped, and when he was gone, she felt there was nothing left to live for.
Chapter 10: The Friends of Shanghai Street
Not long after Hong Kong fell, when we were living unknown to the Japanese in our flat on Taam Kung Road, we had a visit from several Chinese gentlemen, one of whom―stout and very respectable― was a former teacher at a language school. Now, of course, his means of livelihood was gone; he had a large family and was in need. He had a life insurance policy from some foreign company, and hoped that we might know some means by which he could realize on it. Needless to say, we had no means of helping him, but he was a Christian and we talked with him and asked him to call again.
When he came again, however, we scarcely knew him, he had grown so thin. His clothes hung on him as on a scarecrow. His wife was with him too—one of the bravest little women I ever knew, and his eldest son, a fine boy of seventeen. They had also a girl of fourteen, another boy of twelve and two very little girls. They had known comfort and security all their lives, but now found themselves facing starvation. They were Christians, but had never experienced much testing of faith before. However, they kept on trusting in the Lord, and struggled to make a living. The eldest boy accepted an offer of the Japanese to go and work as a laborer in Hainan. His mother was to receive fifteen yen a month for his work, which was really slave labor. So, off he went, bitterly missed by his parents, and no letters came back, but as long as his mother received the fifteen yen, she knew that he was alive. After some months, however, the official at the office, where she went each month to draw her fifteen yen, said that there was no money coming to her that month. Soon afterward they received a letter from their boy, saying that he had been in an accident and had lost a finger, so had been unable to work that month, but was now better. A few months later, however, the payments ceased entirely, without explanation or any word of their boy. He was missing, and they grieved sorely.
Meanwhile the eldest girl had gone to work for a rich Chinese family in Hong Kong, but she soon fell sick of dysentery, and the mother asked us to pray for her. A few days later she came again—a stony look in her face, without tears or sign of emotion she said, “I have come to tell you that you need not pray for my daughter any longer. She has gone to heaven.”
I tried to comfort her, but she seemed stunned. Suddenly, with a burst of tears she exclaimed: “Oh, how she suffered! I was glad when she was gone.”
Not long after, this Christian man had beri-beri so badly that he could not walk. We feared that the end had come for the little family, but an unknown friend turned up who paid for Vitamin B medicine for him and he became very much better. The boy of twelve sold candies or cigarettes on the streets from dawn till late at night, and managed to earn a little.
At this time there was quite a lot of Indian corn on the market, which his wife learned to cook with a pinch of borax in the water, which softened it and made it puff up like popcorn. This was served with a little weak sugar, and she had a stall with a few bowls where she sold it. For a time she had quite a nice business, but then one day she came to us in tears. A Japanese soldier had come along, kicked the stall to pieces, broke all the bowls, and threw out the potful of cooked corn. We were thankful that we had a little money on hand to help her, but she did not attempt to sell corn again.
We often wondered how they ever managed, but while many starved to death, the Lord provided for His poor, weak, and sorrowing children. Sometimes the same kind, Chinese, Christian business man who helped us, would also help this family.
Some time after this, the wife began to work for the Japanese. They had sent out a call for women to carry five-gallon tins of gasoline from the gas tanks at Shamshuipo and Lycheekok and load them on junks. No doubt they realized that American planes would soon come to bomb the gas installations, and wished to save as much as they could. It was heavy work, but there was a free lunch, and she could earn more than by selling cakes at the door. This went on for a while and then the expected happened. American planes bombed the gas installations exceedingly accurately, and the fire and smoke from the explosion mounted up to heaven.
She and the other women ran for their lives when they saw what was coming, but their bare arms were terribly burned. The Japanese overseer assured them that when they were better, he would find some work for them again, but he did not give them a cent to support them in the meantime. They had to find their own ointment and bandages. This happened just before we left. Her arms were getting better and we left them what money we could spare, but we have had no word of them since.
Chapter 11: A Good Meal
Another person who deeply called out our sympathies was the coolie woman who emptied our garbage, etc., during the last few months before our evacuation from Hong Kong. At this time, we were living in a flat on the ground floor and our side windows looked on a path, which, after many meanderings, led to the Chinese cemetery. Before dawn, light hurrying footsteps could be heard on the path. They were the steps of women carrying broken-up coffins from the cemetery, to sell for firewood at one dollar a catty (about one and one-third pounds). Our coolie woman lived in a tiny shack in the cemetery with her sick husband and her little boy. She looked very old, but she was really quite young, and she was a Christian, and put her trust in God. We used to speak together of these things.
She looked so desperately thin and hungry that we used to save her a bowl of rice porridge every morning for her breakfast. She, on her part, would sometimes bring us some sweet potato vines, which when boiled make good greens.
There were so few cats left in Hong Kong that the rats increased, and we were troubled with them in our kitchen. So we borrowed a trap and soon caught a fine, large rat, which was thrown into the garbage. When the coolie woman spied the rat, she at once asked whether she might have it, to which she received a very ready assent.
Across the road from us lived a Christian colored woman from the West Indies whom we knew. Our coolie woman went over to her, and asked her if she might borrow a pot and cook something on her stove.
“I have my own wood,” she said, “but if I might have the loan of one of your pots?”
The kind West Indian woman supplied her with a pot, and after a short time she noticed the most delicious appetizing smell coming from the stove.
“That smells like meat that you are cooking,” she said. “Wherever did you get any meat?”
“Well,” explained the coolie woman, “Mrs. Koh gave me a very fine rat, and I am just cooking it.”
“And in my pot!” exclaimed the horrified West Indian lady. “Well I will give you that pot for your own, but don’t you ever ask me for any other of my pots for cooking rats!”
And I may add that the coolie woman had several more delicious meals of the same kind.
Chapter 12: Biddy the Hen
God’s loving kindness is such that He not only gives us daily bread, but many an extra and unexpected treat and blessing besides.
When we were shut up all the first summer, I often longed inexpressibly for a flower, and then someone sent me the gift of a little bunch of white roses which was a great joy to us both.
As the months passed and food prices continued to rise, we sometimes wondered how we would be able to go on having meals at all, and yet day by day they were supplied—rice and a little bread, fish and vegetables—and we were truly thankful. But still the meals were very monotonous and not very satisfying and many people in Hong Kong were hungry. We often went to bed hungry, and woke in the night very hungry, then slept again, and woke next morning still more hungry.
I used to long for an egg, and would say to my husband, “When we get home I think I shall enjoy an egg for breakfast more than anything else.”
He priced them in the market, but they cost from one dollar to a dollar and a quarter each, and we could not afford them.
One day, however, in our second year, we had a visit from a very kind friend who had often helped us before. He was a tall, dignified Chinese gentleman in a long robe, and in his hand he carried a small wicker suitcase. When he rose to go he said that a certain Christian lady was leaving Hong Kong for the interior, and she wished to divide her hens among her friends. Upon this, he opened the small wicker basket and out stepped a little red hen.
She was the gentlest, tamest little hen we had ever seen. You could pick her up and carry her about, and she lived with us in the house, because she was far too precious to be left outside.
We made her a nest in the kitchen, and the next morning, there was a little brown egg! She had laid forty eggs before she came to us, and after she came, she laid an egg a day for forty-five days. Then after a brief rest, she laid again. It would be hard to say how much we enjoyed those eggs.
Biddy became a great pet. If she heard me cutting up vegetables, she would stand beside me, cocking one eye, and asking as plainly as possible for onion tops, which she loved. At breakfast, she would stand beside each of us in turn, eyeing us, and eating tiny crumbs of bread from our hands. At this time, we had a young girl, the bride of one of the interned soldiers, living with us, and she made a great pet of Biddy. She would tie a string around her leg and take her for walks in the grass so that Biddy might have the pleasure of catching flies and grasshoppers for herself.
When at last we left Hong Kong; we gave Biddy to some good friends who had to stay on there, and she continued her good work of providing eggs for them.
Chapter 13: Homuntin Days
After we had moved to Homuntin, we were able to move around more freely and being nearer to a ferry, more frequently went across to the Island.
At this time, I experienced more of Dr. Selwyn Clarke’s kindness, and had to visit him for a time for treatment. He was allowed to have patients at the French hospital and there cared for a number of civilian patients who were too ill for treatment in Stanley Camp, as well as attending to outside patients. He also arranged for me to have an X-ray examination and made no charge for examinations or medicines.
One night, when I visited him at the hospital, he asked how we were making out financially, and I told him that we were still able to support ourselves by the sale of medicines, blankets, tablecloths, and other things we did not need. There were still some medicines unsold and he very kindly offered to take the balance off my hands at my own price.
Another time, when I was leaving, he said, “You had better let me make you a loan of one hundred yen in case you run short.”
I assured him that we had been so remarkably provided for hitherto, that I believed our needs would be met and did not wish to borrow. When he still pressed me to let him help, I told him that if we came to the end of our resources and were in need, I would let him know.
“But perhaps it will then be too late,” he replied, “you know there is a sword hanging over my head, and it may fall at any time, and then I would not be able to help you.”
I did not realize how prophetically he spoke, but we learned that he was even then working to get the International Red Cross to take over the majority of his responsibilities, and shortly before we were repatriated, the “sword did fall,” and he was arrested by the Japanese, imprisoned and brutally tortured. There were many like ourselves who had been recipients of his kindness, and I know that many of them were praying for him.
Another doctor, to whom we were indebted for much kind assistance, was a very capable Jewish physician and surgeon who had escaped from Vienna after the Nazi putsch in that city, and came to Hong Kong, where he had his house and office not far from Homuntin.
While we lived in Homuntin, we had the privilege of meeting many other Christians, most of them English-speaking from abroad—Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the United States—and we spent many happy hours with them in Bible readings twice weekly.
Our good friend, Mr. J., had for years had Bible Readings in his home, and it was a privilege to be able to attend them, and there were also meetings in the home of two Chinese Christian ladies.
The Japanese were not long in showing their antagonism to Christianity, but very soon after their entrance to Hong Kong, had closed up most of the regular churches.
One little Evangelical group was allowed to continue meeting for a time, as the only English-speaking service in Kowloon. Several small Chinese chapels and meeting rooms also continued their services for a time.
At the beginning, the Japanese ordered all Christian bodies to register and give particulars of their services and associations. About the beginning of the second year, they were notified that all Protestant bodies were to be unified under a Japanese Supreme Head whose orders they would be responsible to obey or they would have to close up their places of worship.
Some of the smaller fundamentalist groups took alarm at this order, fearing that it was the thin edge of the wedge, and that if they thus signed away their freedom of action, the time would not be long before they would be called upon to choose between obeying God or Caesar. They thought that this might be the first step toward forcing Shrine worship on the Christians as the Japanese had done in Korea and Formosa.
Some groups then withdrew their former registration and closed their doors, but because the Japanese forbade more than ten meeting together unregistered they broke up into small gatherings of from six to ten persons, meeting in various homes for worship. Even then, they met with fear, for there were Japanese spies going about everywhere and they did not know what persecution they might be called upon to endure if their meetings were discovered.
About this time, the Japanese were building a large Buddhist Shrine on the top of one of the Hong Kong mountains. When the day for the laying of the foundation stone arrived, the Protestant churches which had registered were invited, or ordered, to send a delegation to express their fellowship with the Japanese. It was a sad, but hardly surprising commentary on the type of Christianity they represented, that a delegation was sent, and, so far as I heard, there were no voices raised against it.
One of the pleasant advantages of our move to Homuntin was that we were then close neighbors of our good landlord and his family and we had many happy visits together.
Generally, Mr. J. would do the marketing for his household, which was a large one, and as I did it for ours, we would meet each day and compare notes as to what was a good buy.
Fish was generally our chief meat, as pork and beef were so exorbitantly priced that we could seldom afford it, unless on rare occasions I would buy a couple of ounces of beef and a couple of kidney to make a beefsteak and kidney pie when we were expecting some friends to a meal. Beef was selling at thirty-two yen a pound and pork at thirty-six yen, but generally quite good fish was obtainable at six to fifteen yen a pound. Oysters were among the cheapest foods and often I would take home four ounces or one half-pound of oysters. With the high prices prevailing, the temptation to cheat on the weight sold was very great and so most of the marketers would carry with them their own steelyard to weigh their purchases. I found this a very useful practice and saved myself several dollars at times, by checking to see if I had been given the amount paid for.
The oyster women would sit cross-legged on the concrete floor of the market with pails or basins of shelled oysters before them. “How much for the oysters?” I would ask, and when I was a newcomer, they would generally ask me about three times what they asked from others. They soon got to recognize me, however, and would tell approximately the right price.
“Give me eight ounces!” and she would bring out a paper cornucopia (paper cone) and commence to pick out the poorest and most bedraggled specimens. I would pick out the ones I wanted myself and she would say, “He lo!”― “That’s enough!” and quickly weigh them on her scale, tie up the cornucopia with a piece of grass and pass it over to me saying, “Paat Jiang. Sam ko yuen” meaning “eight ounces, three yen.” Before giving her the desired three yen, I would weigh the package and show her it was about two ounces short. Declaring that my scales were probably wrong, she would reluctantly open the package and throw in three or four miserable oysters and we would call the deal closed.
Though the marketing often gave a measure of interest to our day, there was another side to these outings, for one often saw such terrible sights as would sometimes haunt one for days.
On the street near the market were a number of eating stalls where various kinds of prepared foods were sold, generally little bowls of red beans or macaroni, or various small cakes to be eaten on the spot.
Standing near the stalls, with wolfish eyes, watching every move of the would-be purchasers, were always gaunt and starving youths and men. Let some poor woman purchase a cake or bun and turn away from the stall with it uneaten, immediately one of these poor, famished creatures would swoop down on her like a vulture and seize the piece from her very lips cramming it down his own throat in one convulsive movement.
Sometimes these poor beasts of prey would become too bold and endanger their sales, and then the stall-keeper would rush out with a heavy bamboo pole and belabor them on head and back, thinking nothing if the poor creature were knocked senseless on the paving blocks.
At times, Japanese police would take a hand, attacking with Jujitsu one of these poor starving fellows, would send him crashing to the pavement with such force that his bones would be broken and he would lie groaning, while the brave gendarme would walk swaggering off, proud of the exhibition of his skill and strength.
Daily, as we walked the streets, we would see poor starved men, women, and children lying on the pavement too weak to move or already dead. Their numbers were so great and the general poverty so intense that there were very few able to do anything to relieve their suffering. Sad to say, suffering and fear were so common that most people grew more or less inured to the suffering of others. Often were we reminded of the words of the Lamentation of Jeremiah, and could not help feeling that much of that which caused his tears to run down was being repeated in our own day.
Shortly before we received our passes, we were given European rations instead of the Chinese rations we had been buying formerly. This allowed us six pounds of flour, each, per month, and about the same amount of rice.
The flour was usually quite good, and we were truly thankful to be able to get it. The rice was, however, very poor, often just broken grains, full of dirt, worms and cockroach dung. When we received our ration, every third day, we would first wash it well and then spread it out on a canvas cot to dry. Then we had to go over it, grain by grain, cleansing out all the extraneous worms and dirt, and there always seemed a very, very much smaller quantity of rice when it was clean.
Not long after our move, we received the gratifying news that by arrangements with the British Government, the Red Cross Society was to give out a monthly allowance to all British subjects or dependents. It was only a small allowance of about forty yen each, and did not do much more than pay for our monthly flour, cooking oil and rice, but we were thankful for it. At that time, we again had a household of three, and with the greatest economy found that our monthly expenditure was generally three hundred sixty yen, so that the balance had to be made up each month by sales of personal goods.
It was wonderful how we proved that the Lord’s eye was watching over our circumstances all through this time. Often when we were out of funds, we would have a visit from one or other of our dear Chinese friends, bringing something to tide us over the difficult days until we could sell something. Finally, we had sold practically everything that we could get a market for, and wondered how we would eke out our next month’s small allowance from the Red Cross, when we received the joyful news that we were to be repatriated before that time came.
After spending seven months in our new quarters, it became necessary for us to move elsewhere. Our kind landlord had been forced to sell the house in which he was living, and had nothing for it, but to live in that in which we were installed. The Chinese tenants below us had already moved from the downstairs apartment but, with his large household to provide for, it was necessary that Mr. J. should have the whole house.
Once again, we proved our Father’s gracious care, for it was not long before we had another apartment offered to us.
One day when out house hunting, I met a young Goanese who had formerly been a well-known athlete in Hong-Kong. I mentioned to him my present situation and asked if he could tell of any place that might be available.
“I have a friend in a bank in Hong Kong who owns some property just around the corner from here, and last week, I heard him say he was looking for someone to live in the lower flat as he feared looters might break in. Perhaps that is still vacant.”
He promised he would try and see his friend and let me know the results, but as I did not see him for about a week, I feared that his quest must have been unsuccessful. Words could not express our gratification, therefore, when he called one night with the good news that the flat was still unoccupied.
“My friend was very pleased to hear of you, and told me to tell you you might live there rent-free, as he has been very worried since the last tenants went to Macau,” and so a few days later we were again on the move.
This time, we had only a short distance to move, and being in a more European community did not expect to have any difficulties. Instead of employing a mover, we borrowed a little wagon and with the able assistance of our good Mr. R. L. and a neighboring Chinese pastor, we moved everything ourselves.
The new apartment was on the ground floor and had all the floor in concrete, which proved very cool and comfortable during the hot days of summer. The rooms were large, and high ceilings added to the impression of spaciousness, which made our few pieces of furniture seem almost lost. An added attraction to the apartment was that it had been the home of our friend Mr. L. and his mother, years before, when I had first known them.
Being on the ground floor, the windows and doors were all heavily protected with bars and grills, making us feel almost as though we were living in a prison, but we had not been there long before we realized why the landlord was so eager to have tenants, because we could hear, night after night, the sound of saws and pounding of sledge-hammers, as gangs of looters stripped some apartments across the street which had become empty.
One Sunday evening, we had a visit from a young Chinese lady who was a Canadian citizen and a graduate of McGill. She told us she had learned that there was to be a repatriation of Canadians shortly and all were supposed to give in their names immediately.
“I am going to give my name to the Swiss Consul tomorrow morning and will give yours also, if you wish,” she informed us.
We could hardly settle down quietly after that. To think that perhaps in a few more weeks we should be leaving Hong Kong with all its sorrows and fears! But then we thought of all the good friends we should be leaving behind, for whom there was no such hope of deliverance, and our joy at the prospect was very much tempered; indeed, we had some feeling of being “quitters.”
On Wednesday, we were at a Bible Reading in a Chinese home, and Miss W. who had promised to enter our names, came in late, so that we had no opportunity to speak to her until after the meeting. I fear that I did not follow the chapter before us as closely as I should have!
After the close of the meeting, she came up with a sober countenance. “I am sorry,” she said, “but I was too late. The Swiss Consul told me he had already sent off his list of names on Saturday morning. He says we will have to wait until there is another ship.”
I felt rather like a pricked balloon and all our friends crowded about, unselfishly voicing their sympathy and regrets that our anticipated cup of joy should have been so speedily dashed to the ground.
My wife took it very calmly, saying, “Oh, well! We know that whatever the Lord orders for us must be for the best. He will provide for us in some way, even as He has in the past.”
That night before retiring we sang together that hymn which had often cheered us in the past:
“How good is the God we adore,
Our faithful, unchangeable Friend,”
and the closing lines seemed to steady and comfort our hearts:
“We’ll praise Him for all that is past,
And trust Him for all that’s to come.”
About three weeks after this, we were surprised one evening when a young Chinese girl rode up on a bicycle and rang our doorbell.
When we unlocked the grating and asked her in, she handed me a letter, saying:
“I am from the Department of Foreign Affairs; you are to go there at ten thirty on Monday morning. Be sure you are there, it’s very important. It’s about your repatriation.”
We assured her we would not fail to be present and indeed we found the waiting time till Monday morning very trying.
On Monday, when we reached the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank Building, which housed the Department of Foreign Affairs, we found a number of others there on the same errand, most of them U. S. citizens, but a few Canadians, elderly people or of Chinese parentage.
We were herded together and then addressed by the second-in-command of the department who told us that our names had been forwarded to Washington and that we would probably leave Hong Kong on September 25th. Before that date we were to undergo numerous vaccinations and injections and must appear three times a week at the Department for further instructions.
We wondered very much how it was that our names had been included on the list sent to Washington, and later learned that was another wonderful proof of the watchful care of our gracious Lord.
On the day the lists were to be sent off, the Swiss Consul had met an Austrian friend who had been secretary to the Bishop of Hong Kong before the war. In the course of conversation, he mentioned that he had been collecting the names of the U. S. citizens and Canadians to forward to Tokyo and Washington for repatriation.
Dr. H. asked him: “Did you have Mr. and Mrs. Collier on your lists?”
“I don’t remember the names. Where do they live and who are they?” the Consul inquired.
Dr. H. did not know our address, but said he had heard that we were somewhere in Kowloon and knew we were Canadians.
“Do you think they wish to be repatriated?” was the next question, to which Dr. H. replied readily, “I cannot imagine any sane person not wishing to get away from Hong Kong under present conditions.” The Consul promised to add our names before sending away the list.
How often we see such examples of what the world might call “beneficent coincidences,” but which we know to be God’s overruling, so that we can say, “We know that all things work together for good to them that love God.”
During the next few weeks, we were quite busy preparing, but what struck us most forcibly was the unselfish way in which all our friends rejoiced with us that we were to be delivered out of that furnace of affliction. At that time, it was impossible to foresee the end of the struggle, and we all knew that conditions were steadily getting more difficult and would continue to do so for the months or years that remained before victory.
Also it seemed very likely that when the war came close to Hong Kong, the Japanese would vent their rage in fresh atrocities against those who were helpless in their hands, but the experiences we all had of God’s care and provision in the former months, gave us confidence that He would not fail though the times might grow never so desperate.
Before we finally got off we had one more time of testing.
One morning, I called at the Foreign Affairs Office as we had been ordered. The clerk had a long list of names in his hand and when we had all gathered, he addressed us thus:
“I have now received from Tokyo the final list of those who have been approved by Washington to go. Any others who were expecting to go will not be able to do so.”
Then he read over the list, and I listened with straining ears, but our names were not included! Again, a second time, he went over the list. I paid little attention to the names that were there but had a feeling akin to despair as I realized that our names, were, indeed, omitted.
Immediately after, I went up to him and asked, “What has Washington to do with deciding about the Canadians? We do not come under U. S. jurisdiction!”
“I am sorry, but there is an agreement between Canada and U. S. by which Washington is allowed to make the decision as to who shall be repatriated,” he replied rather glibly.
I went home feeling rather annoyed and wishing that our names had never been mentioned, but again my wife took the right view of things, saying, “We will not be any worse off than our friends, and it will be thrilling if we are here when the British again take over Hong Kong.”
Next morning, however, I had again to call at the Foreign Affairs Office, and while there the official who had read out the names came over to me.
“I made a mistake yesterday, Mr. Collier. There were no Canadian names on that list, because all the Canadians are to go.”
I speedily completed my business and hurried home to tell my wife the news, and we bowed together to thank the Lord that He had so ordered for us.
At last, we got word that the “Teia Maru,” formerly a liner of the French “Messageries Maritimes” Lines, was to be off Stanley Camp on September 23rd to pick up all repatriates and would take them to God, a Portuguese colony in India, where they would be transferred to the Swedish liner “Gripsholm” for the journey back to New York.
On the 22nd, we attended a last Bible Reading and our dear friends had prepared a little farewell tea, eked out of their own scanty food resources.
We hurried home to finish our packing, and our unwearied friend Mr. L. appeared to give us his able assistance. We had been instructed that we were to be at a Chinese hotel on the Hong Kong waterfront early the following day, but to be sure that there might be no last-minute hindrances we had decided to spend our last night at the hotel, so as to be on the spot bright and early.
About seven o’clock that evening, we started out for the ferry in three rickshaws, Mr. L. accompanying us to the ferry. The rain was pouring down in torrents and he had come lightly dressed and was soaking wet, but as always, hearty and cheerful and apparently with no thought but of happiness that we were being delivered out of the pit that was Hong Kong in those days.
Early next morning we were up and dressed, and then had to wait for the arrival of some repatriates from Canton, among whom we were happy to find several old friends.
About eleven o’clock, we were herded on to a tug and started out around the end of the Island for Stanley Peninsula. The wind and rain were almost at storm pitch and the little boat was closed in with tarpaulins so that we could not see very much, but as it tossed and pitched in the heavy seas, we caught occasional glimpses of familiar spots on the shore which appeared to have been little altered by the ravages of war.
After about two hours tossing, we came into more sheltered waters opposite Stanley Camp and there looked out and saw the long gray hull of the “Teia Maru;” and when we came closer saw that the decks were already crowded with hundreds of passengers being repatriated from camps in Japan and Northern China.
We wondered expectantly whom we should find awaiting us on board, but were not to know immediately, for we were first taken ashore at Stanley and our suitcases searched by the Japanese. We had been precisely warned that we could carry only one book, a Bible, which must have no marking on it. A passport or a birth certificate was also allowed, but nothing else with writing or printing, and no photographs or pictures.
The inspection over, we were joined up with the group of Canadians and U. S. citizens to be repatriated from the Camp and then taken aboard tugs and out to the “Teia Maru.”
We were still “Prisoners of War” and in the hands of the enemy but to be aboard the ship which should take us to the place of freedom, was, in itself, a very cheering thought.
About five o’clock, with three long blasts on her horn, the vessel pulled up anchor and got underway. Back in Stanley Camp, we could dimly see little figures at all points of vantage, waving bravely to their more favored friends who were on their way to freedom.
As we turned below for our first meal that night, we could not but look back in retrospect over the years that had passed and our hearts were filled with thanksgiving for the goodness and mercy of God that had kept us in safety through all those experiences. I thought again of the sense of disappointment and sorrow that had filled me when it appeared as though, after all our hopes and expectations, we were to be left behind, and would have to face the even more terrible times that we all could see were coming. How thankful I was that our names had appeared on the list after all.
Surely, this was a parable reminding me of a time that is surely coming when a great separation will come to this world. Then it will be those whose names are written in the Lamb’s Book of Life, who have put their trust in the Lord Jesus Christ as Savior, who will be taken out of this scene and delivered, forever, from the terrible times of judgment that, even now, we can see the world hastening on to
As we have written of the wonderful experiences of God’s loving kindness which we had through those years, it has been with the hope that all who read this account may be brought to know for themselves the love and faithfulness of God, and believing on His Son, may know themselves “Beloved of the Lord,” objects of His care.