Chungkai was now no longer a secure or static camp. We moved over eventually into one of these new huts, and having been told there would only be two men to a bay, after a few days we were doubled up due to new arrivals and all our beds had to be pulled out and rebuilt. A very high percentage of our spare time seemed to be spent in the air raid trenches, for planes were over every week, sometimes every day. Tamarkan Bridge, Kamburi Supply Camp and the railway sidings at Nom Praduk were bombed and, at the last, we had nearly 100 casualties. The Nips used to have a system of air raid alarms that generally worked out that if you were working at the time you continued to work, and if the alarm was in your spare time you went outside in the sun and sat on the edge of your trenches till the work next started. Oh, they had a lovely time with us! When the planes were over we were not meant to smoke, talk or read – but they couldn’t stop us seeing it all. As the planes came to the nearby Tamarkan Bridge they used to circle around, imperturbable in spite of ack-ack fire, and then come down low, gliding in over our camp less than a thousand feet up, so that markings on the planes could be vaguely seen. Then the three kilometres to Tamarkan would be crossed in a few seconds and we’d wait for the heavy Wumph! Wumph! of the explosions. On the last attempt while we were at Chungkai they put both the bridges out of action, and naturally all the British swore they were R.A.F. markings, and the Americans all saw the American star quite clearly!

Bill, our Q.M. Theatre Chairman, was quite lucky one day. He was bitten on the wrist and leg by a strange and sullen ‘pi’-dog. Of course everyone feared rabies for him. But by the grace of God, the same dog on the same day went and bit the Nip interpreter! So, as they now had to get serum for the interpreter, they condescended to give some to Bill, who otherwise would certainly have had to take his chances. Bill had become a sort of institution in the theatre and, had it not been for him, Ishi would probably have stopped entertainment altogether. Whenever he appeared on the stage to act or make an announcement, he used to hold up his hand and shout ‘Taxi!’ God knows quite why, but it caught on, and in the end whenever he was there to introduce a show, attention and silence was achieved by half the audience shouting out: ‘Taxi! Taxi!’