Angus had to learn Malaya’s topographical features, acquire a feel for the new country, and familiarise himself with jungle conditions

Singapore has at least one hotel that provides the ultimate in tropical chic. Since 1899 when it was founded by the Armenian Sarkies brothers, Raffles has been a magnet for the rich and also for writers. Joseph Conrad was an early patron as was Kipling, who advised visitors to “feed at Raffles”. Between 1910 and 1915 in the Long Bar, Chinese bartender Ngiam Tong Boon invented the Singapore Sling; although the hoteliers profited from selling their Asian employee’s popular cocktail, they would not permit Boon’s compatriots to patronise their establishment until the 1930s.

By the time Angus stepped past the palms and rickshaws lining Raffles’ luxurious entrance, the hotel was recovering from a period of decline that began during the Great Depression.

Angus explored not only the colonial centre and residential areas, but also the narrow streets of Chinatown. However, the battalion had to prepare for war which, for Europe, was only weeks away. Ian Stewart took command while Hector Greenfield was on leave and wasted no time in galvanising his officers and men.

Satisfied

He had a good idea what to expect from the enemy as in 1932, when serving with the Argylls, he had guarded the International Settlement in Shanghai. Stewart stood in as commanding officer until Greenfield’s return.

As for Angus, his adjutant, Kenneth McLeod remembers in 2010 that the Colonel must have been quite satisfied with him. This elderly gentleman had been one of four officers who, in August 1940, sailed from the Stirling depot to Singapore.

“Stewart was very selective in building up his team and when officers arrived in Singapore, he would interview them to see if they were suitable and those he didn’t fancy just disappeared into other jobs,” he says. Angus fitted the bill; at 26 years old he was mature, with five years’ experience as a commissioned officer in the regiment, and he was unmarried.

The first task was to adopt the Bren gun, their old Vickers Berthier light machine guns having been decommissioned and abandoned in India. Introduced in the 1930s, the Bren soon became the workhorse of the British infantry. Firing up to 500 rounds of .303 ammunition a minute, the weapon was designed by Czechs in Brno and manufactured in Enfield, hence its name. Unfortunately, not many personnel knew how to operate one and their problems were compounded by a shortage of officers and an absence of Bren carriers. Happily, 10 carrier vehicles did arrive in Singapore but were difficult to steer.

Within days, the Argylls earned a reputation for toughness and came to be known as “the jungle beasts”. Unlike the commanders of 2nd Gordon Highlanders and 1st Manchesters, Stewart stuck to his strict programme. Some senior staff objected; younger officers resented it.

As adjutant, Angus could not complain and on September 3, the day war was declared in Europe, he was rewarded for his loyalty by being promoted to the rank of captain. Soon afterwards, Peter Farquhar and Angus drove the length of the Malayan peninsula making notes on existing and prospective defences.

By the end of the month, 12th Indian Infantry Brigade became a command reserve responsible for the defence of Johore, the south-eastern Malayan state, which was ruled by its sultan. A causeway, two thirds of a mile in length, crosses the narrow stretch of water that separates the state’s southern coast from Singapore Island.

Pleasant

With the two other brigade battalions, the Argylls were to guard the mainland at Endau and Mersing and prevent the enemy from attacking its south-east coast, and making headway into Johore. The battalions trained in the pleasant countryside around Mersing; when off duty, they bathed and went fishing.

Angus had to learn Malaya’s topographical features, acquire a feel for the new country, and familiarise himself with jungle conditions. On the way up the coast were rubber plantations with trees planted three to four feet apart, a similar distance to the positioning of apple trees in an English orchard.

Sections of jungle with thick vegetation edged right up to the road. To the uninitiated this terrain appeared impenetrable. When a belt of jungle was cleared, the new vegetation grew much thicker than the original. Once a person had passed through this dense screen, he reached primary jungle which had no need to be cut and visibility was possible up to 30 to 40 yards.

The problem was that the British had little knowledge of jungle warfare. Up until that period troops stationed in Singapore were static and employed beach defences. The Argylls had already proved their prowess in mountain warfare against the tribesmen of Waziristan but Malaya was different. What they learned in north-west India would not stand them in much stead here.

Wearing plimsolls, they learned to advance through the terrain in single file, the lead man cutting a way forward, the second widening the path and the third checking the route with a liquid compass, although Kenneth McLeod claimed that these instruments were useless in the jungle because the high tin content in the ground affected their accuracy.

“We had to discover how to find our way by taking our bearings from the sun, stars or just get lost!”

They also used landmarks like rivers, roads and other natural features to find their way.

Striking

In July 2010, when my daughter and I motored down the old trunk road from Kuala Lumpur towards Port Dickson on Malaya’s south-west coast, we stopped to inspect the trees with widespread canopies and the vegetation: ferns, palms, bamboos and creepers, some that hugged their host so tight that they killed them. On the ground were fretworks of shallow roots.

The jungle was far from quiet: water tumbled over root and stone while an unidentified bird called from the branch of a tall tree. The area reminded me of the grounds at Largie as Angus would have known them, with their sculpted shrubs, banks of bamboo, and large ferns. The jungle’s most striking feature was its earthy smell, not unlike the steamy atmosphere of a heated greenhouse.

We did not venture far, as the prospect of hosting a leech or some other jungle parasite was uninviting. Angus and his companions had no choice. The army failed to appreciate that wearing shorts up-country was unpractical. The remedy, then, was to take a lighted cigarette and burn off unwelcome guests that had fastened on to the skin.

More tomorrow.