'It was six months before we even knew my father was a prisoner of war and not dead'
Patricia Owtram was Women’s Royal Naval Service and daughter of Lt Col Cary Owtram, PoW at Chungkai
Liam Jackson
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We were all at home from our boarding schools for my father’s embarkation leave in September 1941. We fished at a local lake — “Daddy got six very nice trout on dry fly. Everyone rather remarkably cheerful,” my diary recorded. No doubt we were reflecting the exhilaration of our father, Lt Col Cary Owtram, at the prospect of action after two years of training. Our grandfather opened a bottle of ’96 port; and the next morning our father left.
He sailed from Liverpool on the Dominion Monarch to Singapore to fight the Japanese invading forces in Malaya. After valiant attempts, they were pushed back until the ammunition ran out and, following an intense barrage of air raids, Singapore fell to the Japanese. Then came the unconditional surrender on 15 February 1942.
For three years we and our mother didn’t know if we should ever see him again. It was six months before we even knew he was a prisoner of war and not dead.
When our father came back, I’ll never forget the emotional relief
Our father became British commandant at Chungkai PoW camp upriver along the Kwai. His regiment, the Blackpool 137th Field Artillery, was so depleted by the end of the war that they couldn’t reform. The horrors of the camp remained with him. He kept a secret diary under pain of death, to keep a record of what had gone on and to remember some of the men who would never return home.
All our letters would be returned, stamped “Addressee Reported Missing”. None of the news from home he was longing for reached him. We received just the occasional basic card marked, “I am well”. It was agonising, especially when news of atrocities began reaching the newspapers.
Patricia's father, Lt Col Cary Owtram served in the Far East. Courtesy of Patricia Owtram
The joy of VE Day came in May 1945 and many people wanted to forget the war after that, but those of us with families in the Far East felt strongly that there was still a way to go for peace. When VJ Day came, I joined the throngs in London. It wasn’t until October 1945 that our father came back. I’ll never forget the relief and joy on our mother’s face, or the emotional relief we all felt.
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A neighbour, Kathleen Jenkins, had been a nurse in Malaya and was a PoW. She survived but the worry about her safety took its toll on her mother, who died months before her return. The grim tension of those years was to end with joyful reunion for our family. We had been lucky. So many were not. SIMON ROBINSON
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