Post by Dave Homewood on Oct 27, 2019 0:29:38 GMT 12
This is a first hand account by a New Zealander who experienced the first Japanese air raid on Singapore, not sure if he was RNZAF but possibly, so close enough... From the AUCKLAND STAR, 2 JANUARY 1942
WHEN THEY CAME
JAPS. OVER SINGAPORE
AIR RAID THRILLS
"This morning it happened." writes a New Zeaiander in Singapore, in a letter to a friend in Auckland when he described the first bombing raid by the Japanese two hours before they had declared war.
About 3.45 a.m. I suddenly awoke —must have been sleeping lightly— and heard my first "dinkum" air raid warning! Didn't realise what it was at first, the distant sound of a siren rising and falling—then it suddenly dawned on me! Jumped out from under my mosquito net, none of the others in the dormitory were yet awake, and looked out of the window. It was a beautiful moonlight night, still and quiet, with the silver light bathing the surrounding trees and huts. And then, clear and distinct. I could hear the air raid siren coming from the direction of Singapore. I can tell you, Jill, that first eerie banshee wail in the still early hours made a goosey feeling run up and down my spine for a minute. Soon, everybody in the hut was awake, waiting.
Then half an hour later, at 4.15 a.m., a faint drone was heard in the distance, searchlights stabbed the sky, anti-aircraft guns opened up with sharp heavy claps and thuds. Then the searchlights from all over the place converged on six silver planes high up in the moonlit sky. More guns opened up. Some seemed quite close to us, and puffs of smoke, white and black, appeared about and below the Japanese aircraft as they droned on in close formation about 17,000 feet up. Then above the thudding and banging of anti-aircraft guns, we heard heavy detonations, white flashes lit the sky from the direction of the city — and our first air raid was in full swing.
The planes kept straight on, and passed directly, high above us, while red balls of fire and tracer shells flew up at them from all directions. Another squadron of five planes came over from another direction, got the same reception from the ground guns, dropped their bombs, and passed overhead, a little to our right. It was all very thrilling — for us, who were not directly under the bombing — at the time I remember saying to myself: "I've often read of air raids—now I'm seeing one for myself!"
Now there's a joke in this—listen. As soon as the anti-aircraft guns opened out, and even when the Japanese planes were overhead and shells were bursting in the sky, and tracer bullets were flaming up red and angry, none of us thought at the time it was the "real Mackayl"
I thought myself it seemed too jolly realistic, what with the heavy detonations and distant flashes, and heavy gunfire—but it-all seemed so "staged." The planes kept droning on in close formation: everybody soon decided it was "just a practise show," part of the air raid precautions here. So we just all stood outside, in pyjamas, minus tin hats, smoked and joked and gazed up at the planes high up overhead.
There was, of course, a lot of divided opinion—but as no bombs were dropped on us, we didn't know Singapore itself had been actually raided till we got the radio news at eight o'clock. Laugh that off will you! Still—we know now, and in future I shan't just be gawking skyward, minus even a tin hat!
WHEN THEY CAME
JAPS. OVER SINGAPORE
AIR RAID THRILLS
"This morning it happened." writes a New Zeaiander in Singapore, in a letter to a friend in Auckland when he described the first bombing raid by the Japanese two hours before they had declared war.
About 3.45 a.m. I suddenly awoke —must have been sleeping lightly— and heard my first "dinkum" air raid warning! Didn't realise what it was at first, the distant sound of a siren rising and falling—then it suddenly dawned on me! Jumped out from under my mosquito net, none of the others in the dormitory were yet awake, and looked out of the window. It was a beautiful moonlight night, still and quiet, with the silver light bathing the surrounding trees and huts. And then, clear and distinct. I could hear the air raid siren coming from the direction of Singapore. I can tell you, Jill, that first eerie banshee wail in the still early hours made a goosey feeling run up and down my spine for a minute. Soon, everybody in the hut was awake, waiting.
Then half an hour later, at 4.15 a.m., a faint drone was heard in the distance, searchlights stabbed the sky, anti-aircraft guns opened up with sharp heavy claps and thuds. Then the searchlights from all over the place converged on six silver planes high up in the moonlit sky. More guns opened up. Some seemed quite close to us, and puffs of smoke, white and black, appeared about and below the Japanese aircraft as they droned on in close formation about 17,000 feet up. Then above the thudding and banging of anti-aircraft guns, we heard heavy detonations, white flashes lit the sky from the direction of the city — and our first air raid was in full swing.
The planes kept straight on, and passed directly, high above us, while red balls of fire and tracer shells flew up at them from all directions. Another squadron of five planes came over from another direction, got the same reception from the ground guns, dropped their bombs, and passed overhead, a little to our right. It was all very thrilling — for us, who were not directly under the bombing — at the time I remember saying to myself: "I've often read of air raids—now I'm seeing one for myself!"
Now there's a joke in this—listen. As soon as the anti-aircraft guns opened out, and even when the Japanese planes were overhead and shells were bursting in the sky, and tracer bullets were flaming up red and angry, none of us thought at the time it was the "real Mackayl"
I thought myself it seemed too jolly realistic, what with the heavy detonations and distant flashes, and heavy gunfire—but it-all seemed so "staged." The planes kept droning on in close formation: everybody soon decided it was "just a practise show," part of the air raid precautions here. So we just all stood outside, in pyjamas, minus tin hats, smoked and joked and gazed up at the planes high up overhead.
There was, of course, a lot of divided opinion—but as no bombs were dropped on us, we didn't know Singapore itself had been actually raided till we got the radio news at eight o'clock. Laugh that off will you! Still—we know now, and in future I shan't just be gawking skyward, minus even a tin hat!