A street scene outside the General Post Office in Kuching, circa 1940. (Courtesy of Ramond Allas)
An excerpt from Glimpses of Sarawak Between 1912 & 1946 – Autobiographical Extracts & Articles of an Officer of the Rajahs.
JB Archer (1893 – 1948)
Man-power Office
Miri and the North was now entirely cut off. Dutch planes flew up to attack the Japanese fleet and transports lying offshore. I became man-power office; part of this job consisting interviewing European evacuees from the oilfields and putting them into temporary jobs.
The last few days, I am afraid, were rather a mess. The blame if any rested on much higher authority than the Sarawak Government. At nearly midnight on 23rd, I was informed that the enemy had landed at Sibu Laut. I immediately armed myself and spent until six in the morning burning my files and helping the Secretariat to destroy theirs. The people had got the news and just as dawn broke the final exodus from the town began. It was an eerie scene. Persons flitting about in the dark and nervously challenging each other. I returned home, had my last bath and shave for some time, and went down to my office. Only one nervous clerk and an obviously terrified office boy were there, but longing to go home. A little later a Japanese plane arrived and started dropping leaflets. This was the last straw and even the most valiant began to clear out. The leaflets were of the usual kind. The cruel British trampling down Islam under its feet (actually illustrated too), warnings to the public about sabotage and hindering the Japanese forces and promises of rewards for persons helping the invading armies.
There was nothing to be done. The armed forces had moved out to positions outside the town. At two o’clock I was told to go to the telephone exchange where another European was valiantly trying to keep the operators on their seats and the thing going. We had noticed a extraordinary hush outside. Then all of a sudden a Malay rushed into the exchange with the story that Mr. X had been dragged out of his car right in the middle of the town and that we were surrounded. We looked out of the window and could see soldiers in a distance. It was realised that something had to be done so we jumped into our car and at the first corner our suspicions were confirmed. A detachment of soldiers were advancing towards the Police Station out of which dashed a number of Sikh policemen holding up their hands. One or two were apparently so eager to be on the right side with their captors that they advanced with one arm up and the other stretched out to shake hands! I had to decide in a hurry; if I turned left I now know that I should have probably got away as some others did as the Japanese had not penetrated as far as that. I am no hero but I had given my word that I would stay when the Japanese came in so I turned to the right. Just opposite the General Post Office I ran into a posse of them. My driver pulled up. A revolting looking officer pushed what looked like a horse pistol at my head. I glanced round and there was another Japanese doing the same thing through the other window.