Then there was ‘C’ Mess. For Henry Baird and I ‘C’ Mess was an unmixed blessing, and a centre of civilisation in a savage, military world, albeit they were the Junior Officers’ Mess at Div. H.Q. There was more character and wit in that group of young men than in any other half dozen Messes in Changi. The general opinion of ‘C’ Mess among the Division was a little disparaging and deprecating; but in factual fact jealousy was the prime cause of that opinion, and even if they indulged in a little persiflage, they were at least efficient; if they fed a little better than the average officers, they had a more ingenious Messing Officer.

The four most notable characters were ‘Fitz’ Berringmore, a young sherry party wit, and a very fine example of a steel fist in a velvet glove in his manner; Harold Raleigh, a very much travelled young G.3; Kerr Peace, the Education Officer, who was clever enough to find other people to do all his work for him, and an authority on Marx and Chianti; and the most solid character of the lot, Richard Blane, the sort of Scot the Civil Service is lucky if it can lure into its service. But the important thing about ‘C’ Mess was that all and every topic was there discussed as it was nowhere else in the area. The younger officers who wished to exercise their minds a little could do so there, and furthermore they did not talk about Poona, they did not talk about the Malayan Campaign, and they didn’t blimp.

After the first three or four weeks the first working parties were called for. As this was a change and appealed to our curiosity, and took us on lorries to Singapore, there were always plenty of volunteers. The work was nearly always loading or unloading ships at the Empire Docks, and wonderful opportunities of loot were missed due to the fact that we had not yet got really to know what the I.J.A. stood for, and Senior Officers in charge of these parties were ridiculously scrupulous in seeing that the troops behaved themselves well, never pinched anything, and did carefully what the Nips ordered.

From these parties men came back with food about 200 per cent cheaper than the Black Market gangs, and we tasted again our first bread for a month, made by Chinese bakers. One small slice of bread was reverently and slowly chewed as some rare thing; and with jam it was the original ambrosia.