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At Nakom Patom, Lt Col Dunlop heard on 16 August 1945 that the war against Japan had
ended, Japan having surrendered unconditionally the day before, six days after the second
atomic bomb exploded over Nagasaki.
The camp's senior officers were first informed of the end of the war by their Japanese captors
as the sun was setting. They were told: 'All fronts are at peace and we have received
instructions that we are to cease to guard you as prisoners of war. Therefore we cease to guard
you. The maintenance of discipline is your responsibility now. Your repatriation will be soon.'
A general assembly of all ranks was held, and they were told by the English and Dutch camp
commanders that the war was over.
Dunlop wrote: 'Immediately, long-hidden and cherished flags - the Union Jack, Australian and
Dutch - were hoisted to the accompaniment of cheering, shouting, and in many cases
unashamed tears. These flags seemed to fly proudly in a cleaner, fresher air, charged with deep,
overwhelming emotion, a boundless joy still trailing robes of sadness. So many had suffered and
died; some even now would never see home; but the momentous day had come.'
Bill Clemence: 'After we were told the war had finished, the first thing we saw coming up the
road was a British paratrooper, marching up on his own. He marched into the camp and took it
over. He was a British major. He wanted to know who the worst of the Japanese were and
what they'd done. And we told him. And there were six or seven Japs who'd been working
down on the aerodrome. They were taken out and shot. And they took away two of the guards
who'd shot Bluey, and I think they were shot. This major wasn't pissing around. He was a tough
boy. They were other paratroopers with him, and they were the ones who shot those Japs.
'RAF planes then came over and dropped tons of food, which was great. A couple of blokes
were killed trying to catch one of those metal cylinders coming down.
'We remained at Ubon for at least three weeks. And then word came through that we all had to
go down to the local station, and on to Bangkok. I sent myself and three others into Ubon as an
advance party, with whatever goods and chattels we had, which wasn't a lot. The river was in
flood there, and they ferried us over and we dropped our stuff at the station. Then, as we had to
wait a few hours for the rest of the camp to come down and get on the train, we thought we'd
go and get a feed. We went into the town - didn't like the look of it much - and found a Thai
army camp. We thought: If anybody's going to feed us, they'll feed us. So four very ragged,
scarecrowy-looking blokes staggered up to this camp. To cut a long story short we finally got
into the colonel's quarters, and he said: "You blokes have had a pretty rough time. What would
you like to eat?" I forget what it was, but he gave us a magnificent meal, and we drank some
French cognac. Quite a lot. I remember singing the Thai national anthem, and I can't speak Thai.
And the colonel was singing "God Save the King." Then we said we had to get back to the
station, as the others might be waiting for us.
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And when we got there, the whole lot, 2,000 men, were waiting for us four. A Scottish major
ticked us off. But by this time we didn't give a twopenny damn who ticked us off. He got the
right answer, and we got on the train and tootled off down to Bangkok.
'We were there for maybe a week. Then we were flown on down to Singapore, and onto a
boat, the Highland Brigade, and home.
'The best moment was when I stepped off the boat onto the wharf. That was the greatest. I
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