From Stawell to Burma

BY DOUGLAS HEYWOOD OAM

Warrant Officer 1, William Scott Heywood, was a Prisoner of War on the infamous Thai-Burma Railway. His letters from Australia, Malacca and Burma provide a valuable insight into the life of a young patriot who, like many involved in an international conflict, is an unsung hero. His story is the subject of the book A Week in September by Peter Rees and Sue Langford.

There is little to celebrate in war. The suffering of all participants, whether at home or abroad, is intense and deeply felt. Men, women and children all fall victim to its senseless anger, futility and blindness.

As a young child living in the country town of Hamilton, Victoria, with my mother, my grandfather Sergeant John (Jack) Hawkins, my grandmother, Uncle Ian and my older brother John, life was happy and uncomplicated. I knew that my father Scott Heywood had been killed in Japan during the Second World War and that Anzac Day was a time to remember those who had died, but beyond that, I had no further knowledge of my father.

My grandfather died when I was seven years old, and four years later, in 1952, the family moved from Hamilton to Williamstown in Melbourne. A couple of years after we had settled into our new home, I discovered, in a camphor box, a large number of letters Mum had been keeping but never read. When I asked her what they were, she told me they were letters [a diary] that my father had kept while a prisoner on the infamous Thai-Burma Railroad.

Mum told me that in 1945, while still living in Hamilton, a man named Doug McFadyen visited her with a bundle of letters. Doug was a friend of my father who had been a POW in the same Burma camps as Dad and had survived. Doug told her that when Scott found out that he would be transported to Japan, transported to Japan, he handed over the letters with the hope that if he (Doug) survived, he was to give them to my mother. And so, he did. Mum told me she had never read them, but I could if I wanted to. So, I began to sort them in chronological order.

Once sorted, I began reading the Thai-Burma Railroad letters and became very angry with the Japanese. As the paper Dad was using was, in some instances, partially destroyed by ants after being buried to hide them from the Japanese, I began to transcribe them on an old Remington typewriter. At that time in my life, I found them confronting and would only occasionally get them out and continue the transcriptions.

In the late ‘70s, I got Mum’s permission to donate them to the Melbourne University Archives where they could be used for research. In the late ‘90s, Mum’s health began to deteriorate; while helping her, I found another collection of letters and old newspapers. They included 106 letters, as well as photos, showing life in Malacca in 1941 and letters that Dad wrote before and after their marriage in 1942. Mum had also kept newspaper articles during the war as she searched for information about her husband, telegrams and letters from the Army and the Red Cross and telegrams and letters from friends.

Letters pre-fall of Singapore 21 January 1942

It was not until 2011—the hundredth anniversary of my father’s birth—that I began transcribing all his letters. My son and I went to the university archives and began digitising all the letters. This preserved them and made them easier to read by enlarging the very small handwriting. In the early days, I used a magnifying glass.

Over the next ten years, I transcribed the many letters Dad wrote to Mum in Australia, before and after they married. In addition to that were the 116 written while he was stationed in Malacca before the fall of Singapore, 400 pages as a POW on the Burma Railroad and finally, all the telegrams, letters and newspaper articles.

The letters from Australia painted a wonderful picture of two young lovers from 1938 and their journey until he sailed for Singapore in August 1942, six months after they were married. The 106 letters, written in Malacca, showed the depth of his love for my mother.

Letters pre-fall of Singapore 21 January 1942

In one letter, dated 20 August 1941, he wrote:

Another day gone treasure, one more nearer home. How are you this morning? I have been buzzing around a bit. We are expecting a visit from a few brass hats, so the camp is being cleaned up. Nothing to report yesterday, just the same old routine. Wrote to Jack yesterday, am gradually cleaning up my correspondence. Still have a lot to write though. Am keeping a roster of whom I have written to and the date so that anyone who doesn’t answer promptly is off list. Tomorrow is mail day, am hoping for a letter or two. It seems ages since Sunday. I’ve read the last issue till I know them nearly by heart. You seemed very near at 9 last night. Was lying in bed looking at my photos and it seemed as if you were in the tent with me. Perhaps you were in spirit, my beloved.

They also gave a great insight into the life and culture of the people . On the 18th of September 1941, he wrote:

Scott Heywood with Doug Heywood

Went through Chinatown last night. I’d like to take you through one day. Narrow streets full of kids and grown ups, all sorts of noises and smells. We had a look at the beginning of a Mourning Service last night. Heard a clashing of gongs and poked our noses in. You should have heard the noise. Three fellows beating a big brass gong while another was burning paper streamers over a woollen thing like a big wishbone and a couple more were chanting. You should have heard the row.

Through these letters, I began to get a greater understanding of my father and what his values were. I found my father’s letters from Burma the most confronting. Not just because of the injustice, the brutality and the deprivation the POWs suffered, but also the detailed and vivid descriptions of daily life working on the Thai-Burma Railroad.

Scott Heywood in uniform

On Saturday 12 June 1943, while he was a POW at the 105 Kilo Camp, he wrote:

Roll call at 7.30 tonight, don’t know the reason. I am afeared my eyes are going on me at last. The last few days it is very blurry writing. Lack of vitamins, I guess. There are some shocking ulcers about now. Men in RAP with eyes eaten into the bone. As we continue to go downhill, they will get worse. Don Macintosh went in yesterday, dysentery, I fear. We will leave him in camp, he looks very bad. Beriberi is on the increase. Fever much as usual. I sometimes shudder when I look into the future and imagine how we’ll be after six more months of this. Not many will be left. Then we have the long marches to look forward to. A lot will fail to see them out.

I also began to realise the strength of my father’s character. His commitment to the welfare of his men was unconditional and his disgust of those officers, often referred to as ‘White Japs’, who ingratiated themselves to the Japanese, was apparent. My father also acknowledged there were good guards and Japanese officers. Yet, even in appalling circumstances, he could see and describe the beauty of the countryside and nature. Also, each diary entry, written as a letter to my mother, further shows the depth of his love for her.

Scott Heywood outside a tent in Malacca.

The book’s final section illustrates how difficult it must have been for this young woman to understand and cope with the knowledge that her husband was a POW in Japan. The uncertainty of whether he was dead or alive would increase her anxiety and add to the roller coaster of emotions she must have felt. Life would seem unbearable at times.

After transcribing all this correspondence and adding appropriate footnotes, I published a 1,300-page book titled Guests of the Uncivilised for the family, with one copy going to the Australian War Memorial.

Conditions 105 Kilo Camp

Ray Martin, the well-known Australian television journalist and entertainment personality, saw my publication and suggested a shorter version should be written. The Australian author Peter Rees read my book and asked if he could write the story. Peter collaborated with his wife, Sue Langford, and my father’s story A Week In September was published in 2020 by Harper & Collins.

My publication, Guests of the Uncivilised, is not to glorify war nor pass judgment on the Japanese. It was written to remind us that the most potent enemy to the promotion of peace and the welfare and happiness of humanity, is war. The story also highlights the plight of my mother, who, like so many war widows, had to struggle with her husband’s untimely death and come to terms with the reality of raising her young children.

Margery Heywood with her sons John and Doug in 1944

As I was assembling the final section of the book A Wife’s Perspective, I began to understand the significance of her journey, her incredible strength, the depth of her love for her husband and, above all, her capacity to live a creative and positive life.

Although I never knew my father, the discovery of his diary and letters to my mother allowed me to get to know him uniquely. I came to understand the deep loving bond that he and my mother shared and why my mother never re-married. I admire and respect my father’s inner strength through all his suffering. His honesty and integrity are beyond doubt, his sense of duty unshakable, his thoughtfulness and care for others are frequently apparent, and his love for his wife and family is unquestionable.

Conditions 105 Kilo Camp