Memoirs of a Flying Tiger: The Story of a WWII Veteran and SIA Pioneer Pilot was published last month by war veteran Ho Weng Toh, and co-written by the National University of Singapore academic Jonathan Sim. It recounts Ho’s colourful life and storied career, starting with his studies at the University of Hong Kong, becoming a Chinese air force B-25 bomber pilot during World War II, and eventually ending up in Singapore where he rose to become a chief pilot at Singapore Airlines.
Here are excerpts of the book.
Chapter 4: A Harrowing Journey
August 5, 1942
May Hall, University of Hong Kong
Since the day the Japanese invaded Hong Kong, we had only one thing in mind: escape. But we could not flee southwards as the Japanese had occupied much of Southeast Asia. The only place of safe refuge was Free China, that is, the remaining territories under General Chiang Kai-shek that had not fallen to the Japanese.
Despite being occupied by the Japanese, the British government in London still regarded Hong Kong as its colony. Owing to its sense of responsibility to look after the people of Hong Kong, the British set up the British Relief Council in Guangdong province, [in the] south of mainland China. This was the nearest safe point from which the British could help refugees from their “colony”.
Two professors from the University of Hong Kong (HKU) successfully fled Hong Kong for Free China in February 1942. They were Professor Gordon King and Professor Linsay Ride. Professor King managed to gain the support of the Chinese government and the British authorities to set up the HKU Relief Council. And together with Professor Ride, they carefully coordinated escape plans to help HKU students find safe passage into Free China. Once the students arrived in China, the HKU Relief Council would help make arrangements for them to resume their studies.
While many of us were preparing our supplies for the escape, a young Burmese boy of ethnic Chinese origin approached us. He was too young to be a university student. Nonetheless, he brought us news that his relative, Aw Boon Haw, wanted to meet the students of HKU. Aw Boon Haw and his brother, Aw Boon Par, were famous throughout Asia for their family’s medicinal balm that could alleviate all kinds of aches and pains. It was known as Tiger Balm and the Aw brothers had amassed a fortune manufacturing and selling it. We were all very excited that Aw Boon Haw wanted to meet us. And I was quite lucky to be in the delegation that went to meet him in his grand villa at Causeway Bay, where he graciously offered us tea.
Over tea, he told us: “You young people have the right idea in going to China. I would like all of you to have the opportunity to go to China because that is where the future is. For those of you who want to go, I would like to offer you some financial assistance. I wish you all the best of luck.” With that, he gave each of us a HK$500 loan and told us that we can repay him when we are able to do so. He called it a “loan” in order to save our pride, but it was clearly a gift, as he did not require us to sign any documents. After this, he directed his staff to provide us whatever medical items we needed from his store. We left Causeway Bay that evening overwhelmed with gratitude and joy at the generosity of the man. We were greatly relieved as we now had the much-needed funds to prepare for our journey.
August 5, 1942
The Peninsula hotel, Kowloon
The rendezvous point was behind the Peninsula hotel. I counted the people around me. There were 25 people altogether, two of whom were our guides. Our guides were Lau Teng Kee and Chiang Lee Hai. Lau was from Malaya, and he had completed his third year of medical studies when the Japanese invaded. Chiang was an arts student who grew up in Hong Kong, and he was also the agent who had briefed us in the previous two meets.
The atmosphere was incredibly tense. There was hope, yet a lot of anxiety and fear. What if we got caught? We had heard of a fellow student who was caught by the Japanese and killed out in the open, in full view of everyone on the streets. He was not given a chance to explain himself. There was no trial, only a swift execution with a bullet through the head. This was the fate that awaited us if the Japanese caught us trying to escape. There were two freight trucks parked on the side of the road. These trucks were en route to a Japanese military base in Fanling (up north in the New Territories of Hong Kong), as part of their regular delivery schedule, and so it would not arouse much suspicion.
Once we were all aboard the trucks, the drivers started the engines. And thus began our journey out of Hong Kong.
We arrived at Sha Tau Kok at around 5 o’clock in the evening. It was a small but sleepy fishing village. On the other side of the ocean was Guangdong, a part of Free China. Here was a glimpse of the freedom that awaited us. And for a brief moment, we felt a sense of liberation and joy. But all that quickly fell apart when one of the villagers informed our guides that the Japanese had wind of our presence in the area.
They were coming for us. Some young boys from the village had spotted us from a distance while we were walking, and they informed the Japanese about us. These kids had been recruited as informers for the enemy, but they were too young to understand what was going on, or the significance of their actions. According to the villager, those boys had also informed the Japanese about the presence of many young women in our group. We were very troubled by this news. From the stories of the atrocities committed since the occupation, we knew for certain that the soldiers weren’t just coming for us, they were hungry for our women. It was not possible for us to sail away to safety. The boat was only scheduled to arrive at the jetty much later, in the early hours of the morning. Our guides began planning for a contingency. One of them found a small house far away from the jetty. We gathered the young women and hid them in a room inside that house together with all our possessions. The rest of us men were scattered all over the village. We acted as if we were busily preoccupied with some kind of work, as if we were a part of the community. On top of that, the guides sent some of us, myself included, onto a boat. There, we had to pretend that we were fishermen going about our usual routine.
We knew we needed a change in plans. It was no longer safe for us to wait for the boat to arrive at Sha Tau Kok. The Japanese soldiers may return again, and there would be no second chance. We would be like sitting ducks, highly vulnerable at any moment. The contingency plan was to abandon the boat, and walk over to “no-man’s land” on foot. This was a strip of land that was neither under the control of the Japanese, nor was it under the control of Chinese nationalist forces. It was a lawless land ruled by bandits. We regrouped and immediately made haste toward “no-man’s land”. In that moment of haste, we neglected stealth and were spotted by Japanese troops from a distance. They shouted curses at us and began pursuing us. The moment we heard their shouts, we began running for our lives. Fear and terror filled our hearts and minds. The only thought that raced through my head was: don’t look back, just keep running. After what felt like an eternity, we finally made it, all 25 of us. It was unbelievable! We made it into “no-man’s land”. We could no longer hear the shouts of our pursuers. The soldiers had given up chase. We had succeeded in fleeing from the Japanese. But that was not the end of our troubles. Now that we were in the lawless land of bandits, there was nothing but uncertainty. Would the bandits consider us friends or foe? Would they harm us or help us?
Chapter 14: Mission Accomplished
February 1, 1945
A few weeks had passed, and by now many of us new pilots were itching to join the fight against the Japanese. We really wanted to show that we were capable and competent to perform the missions we spent so long training for. We were, after all, very proud of our wings, and eager to prove ourselves, and rid our land of the invaders.
One evening, I got up from my seat to check the roster for the next day’s mission. I was incredibly surprised to see my name on the roster for the first time. I was to be co-pilot to a very experienced, senior Chinese pilot. It was a reconnaissance mission involving two B-25 Mitchells, which were twin-engined medium-sized bombers, with five or six crew members comprising the pilot, co-pilot, radio operator, navigator, and dorsal and rear gunners. It was an extremely versatile aircraft which could operate at low and medium altitudes.
We were required to fly over an area a short distance away from our airbase to record the positions of the enemy. The moment the engines of my B-25 aircraft began rumbling, I could feel the adrenaline surging through my body. This was going to be the first time I would fly over the battlefield. It was a thrilling sensation.
What if they spotted us? Would they shoot us? Our aircraft flew over the Japanese troops, and I duly recorded their positions. We returned to base without any incident, though to be honest, I felt somewhat disappointed that we returned to base without engaging the enemy, not even with harassing fire.
March 30, 1945
Weeks later, I was sent on my second combat mission. This time, it was the “real thing”, a strafing mission where we would attack enemy ground targets along the Nanyang Feng Cheng area by flying over them at a very low level. This was a risky operation, as we could get shot at such a low height. But we could not afford to be scared. Once you’re scared, you cannot perform during the mission. I had to completely focus all my concentration on the task at hand.
Once again we operated in a pair, and we took turns to deliver two strafing runs at the enemy. On our first pass over them, we strafed the column of enemy cavalry, causing the horses to panic, throwing the troops off their mount. The horses ran away, and I could see enemy troops dispersing from the highway, attempting to take cover. We made a second pass over them to ensure that we eliminated them completely. Our B-25 Mitchells flew so low over the ground, that I could see every vivid detail of the enemy troops. They were in a state of panic at the suddenness of the attack.
Each time I opened up the machine guns to fire at them, I told myself that this was for all the cruel and evil things they had done to China and to my compatriots. This was payback for all the horrible and wicked things – the rape, the torture, the murder – that they had done to my friends back in Hong Kong, and to everyone else in China.
I killed many enemy troops that day. It was cruel. It was war. I had been waiting so long to fight against them after such a lengthy period of hardship and uncertainty as a student refugee. I felt that they deserved it for all the atrocities they had committed to my friends and to my fellowmen. And it felt so satisfying to exact vengeance after such a long time.
I was so completely absorbed in the mission that I forgot about my fears of being shot down. At one point, enemy fire damaged the fuselage of my plane. But I was not worried at all. There was no anxiety, no dread, no fear of death. The surge of adrenaline and the satisfaction of finally being able to fight against the invaders overwhelmed my entire being. I was like a different person. I was completely unafraid.
Chapter 21: Embracing New Identities
March 31, 1958
After Singapore was granted the autonomy for self-rule, a wave of “Malayanisation” began spreading across the region. The locals in Singapore and Malaya started demanding opportunities for career advancement, and for key leadership appointments to be held by locals as well. This too was happening in Malayan Airways. Having embraced our new identity as citizens of Singapore, many of us local pilots felt that the new identity gave us a firmer resolve to fight for fairer treatment for our local staff.
For me personally, as a Singaporean now, I saw no reason to remain a second-class pilot in the airline. For a long time, the local pilots had been tolerating the prejudices and discrimination. We were not just unhappy about being paid less than the expatriate pilots. We did not have a voice over organisational matters, and we were not allowed to take on senior positions and leadership roles. These were all reserved for the expatriates. Why should we be denied access to any of these because of our place of birth, or for the colour of our skin? These had nothing to do with skill or experience.
What infuriated us the most was the fact that the local pilots were never allowed to fly on our own. It was a rule that we had to be supervised by an expatriate pilot, even if he was a junior pilot.
This was the greatest insult. By now, there were 15 of us local pilots in Malayan Airways. We decided that it was necessary for us to band together so that we could negotiate fair terms of employment. On this day, we collectively agreed to set up a union, and we established the Malayan Airways Local Pilots Association. My fellow pilots appointed me to be the honorary secretary of the association, and I gladly accepted the role. I believed this was a battle that we needed to fight.
In the weeks that followed, we soon realised that our efforts with the newly established association were not very effective. We were too few in numbers. There were 15 of us, against a much larger number of expatriate pilots. Driven by a strong desire to create a fair work environment for my fellow pilots, I approached the one man I knew I could trust. His name was Lee Kuan Yew. I had met Lee personally on several occasions. He was a regular passenger on my flights to Borneo. Lee was a lawyer and he was famous and highly respected in the expatriate circles for his eloquence and intellect. He was so well-respected and feared as a lawyer that he simply had to show up, and the expatriates would immediately assent to his demands. He did not even have to talk or make a case for it.
I approached Lee and told him about the plight of our local pilots. Without any hesitation, he agreed to help us. On the appointed day, Lee visited the Malayan Airways company to speak to our managing director. We were all present for that meeting, all 15 of us local pilots. What was truly remarkable about it was that before Lee could sit down on his chair, the managing director agreed to the terms of our request. In an instant, we got a pay increase that put every local pilot’s salary on par with our expatriate contemporaries. From that day forth, the expatriates learnt about our strength and stopped bullying us. They knew they had to be careful, especially since we had the support of Lee Kuan Yew.
(Source: This Week in Asia- 8/12/2019)
