Fear sliced through Tom. Had Scott talked? Had they beaten him down until he broke and had told them everything? It was unlikely. They would never have dared to torture the only Japanese speaker amongst the English soldiers, and Scott would never speak voluntarily. The Ripper must be bluffing, Tom told himself. But he still felt weak with dread. His head was swimming. He could hardly stand.
The Ripper’s speech went on, denigrating anyone who shirked the sacred work of the railway. Eventually the Ripper concluded by saying, ‘Make no mistake! Whole camp pay for this!’
Then he gestured to a group of guards. They ran over to the hospital hut. There was a commotion inside, and after a few minutes the sick men from the hut were brought out to the parade ground. They came slowly, one by one, hobbling on crutches or supported by others. They were poked forward by the rifle butts or bayonets of the guards. Some were so weak they couldn’t stand, and had to be carried by other men. Archie came last of all, Colonel Bell supporting him on one side and Leech on the other. They were all made to stand in the middle of the clearing in the full glare of the sun. Tom turned away from the pitiful sight.
All day long the entire camp stood to attention on the parade ground. There was no let up from the heat of the sun. The guards gave them no food or water.
Tom’s tongue became dry and hard as if it were swelling in his mouth. His throat was so parched that he could no longer swallow. Several men collapsed to the ground, where they were left. The guards slapped and kicked anyone who bent down to help them.
Half way through the morning the sky darkened suddenly, and it began to rain. Sheets of water hit the camp, blown horizontal by a strong wind. The palms were almost bent to the ground by the force of the storm.
Still they stood there. Men lifted their faces to the sky and opened their mouths to take in a few drops of rain and ease their thirst. Then the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started. The sun came out again, and steam began to rise from the ground.
It was afternoon when the Ripper marched out of the guardhouse and abruptly dismissed the men. Tom began to walk towards his hut, eyes to the ground. Perhaps everything would be alright after all. Then, he felt a hand grip his shoulder. He turned and opened his mouth to protest, but the words froze on his lips. The Ripper himself was standing behind him, staring at him with narrowed eyes.
‘Not you. You stay. We need to talk to you.’
A shove from a rifle butt between his shoulder blades sent Tom stumbling along on quivering legs. A few paces away, he noticed Archie, staggering along towards the guardhouse as well, a group of Japanese soldiers with bayonets prodding him forward.
The guards pushed Tom across the parade ground until he reached the steps of the guardhouse. Then they shoved him forward. The force of the push sent him sprawling onto the wooden veranda. Two of the guards then seized his elbows and dragged him up roughly through the door of the hut.
He’d never been inside the guardhouse before. Bizarrely, it was set out like an ordinary office. The Ripper sat behind a wooden desk stacked with files and papers. There was even a filing cabinet in the corner.
‘You bow,’ the Ripper said. Two Kempeitai officers were standing behind him, staring impassively at Tom.
A defiant voice in Tom’s head made him hesitate.
‘Bow!’ This time the Ripper shouted the word, and Tom felt the hands of the guards forcing him forwards. They then grabbed him by the arms and dragged him to a hard chair in front of the Ripper’s desk.
The Ripper stared at Tom. He could have been an imposing and handsome man. He was slim and well-built and had regular features, but the constant look of venomous disdain on his face made him look ugly.
‘You know why you here, Private Ellis?’ he said at last
Tom shook his head.
‘No … Sir.’
‘I think you do know why you here.’ The Ripper raised his voice. ‘I sure you do.’
When Tom shook his head again, the Ripper leapt to his feet, knocking his chair backwards.
‘You do know!’ he screamed. The guards shoved Tom forward so he almost fell out of the chair. Tom knew that to show his fear would be the worst thing to do. He lifted his head and met the Ripper’s eyes.
‘I tell you why,’ the Ripper went on. ‘You are here, you and the red-hair, because you friends with escape men.’
He rested his hands on the desk and leaned forward with a triumphant smile, an evil gleam in his black eyes.
Tom swallowed. His mouth went dry. How the devil had they found out so quickly? He was sure they hadn’t gone through the camp checking men against the register. But how could they have worked out their names without doing that? He shivered at the thought of how much they knew, and how quickly they’d managed to find out. His mind turned to Scott again. Had he squealed?
‘But I not need you to talk, Private Ellis,’ the Ripper said with a sly smile. ‘I not need you to talk. We have information. But you will be punish for this. Punish hard.’
‘But why, sir?’ Tom protested, knowing it was useless. ‘I didn’t escape. I’m still here, aren’t I?’
‘You not answer back,’ said the Ripper grimly, and one of the guards slapped Tom’s face, catching the cheekbone with his metal ring.
‘You to be punish so other men not try escape.’
The chill of dread gripped Tom. He had seen their punishments. Water torture, beatings, beheadings.
The Ripper nodded to the guards. They dragged Tom out of his chair, bundling him across the room
