Escape Forbidden!
It was on that parade square that we were lined up one day and harangued by a
bombastic Japanese officer. His message was translated to the effect that we were
to sign a document promising not to Escape.  Now, the first duty of a prisoner of
war is to attempt to escape and make his way back to his unit. You can
understand that in our situation escape was out of the question, although it was  
attempted in at least one instance
Colonel Home, who had taken over responsibilities of the Canadian troops after
the death of Brigadier Lawson, addressed us and told us that we should sign the
document, because, given the circumstances of our captivity in such an isolated
part of the world, and the unprecedented and illegal demands of the Japanese,
and because for those reasons the document was meaningless, signing it would not
hold us accountable in the eyes of the Canadian Government. So we all signed.
Except for L/Cpl Jack Porter.
Jack Porter was an Englishman, a veteran of World War I, who had emigrated to
Canada . He came to us in a re-enforcement draft just before we left Canada. He
was a stubborn man. If there was a loud argument taking place at the far end of
the hut, you could be sure that Jack was Involved.  At any rate, when the Japs
realized that they had a rebel on their hands,Jack was whisked unceremoniously
out of camp and we all were sure that would be the end of Jack Porter..
However, two weeks later, he was returned to North Point, barely alive. He had
been taken to Stanley Prison and starved and beaten. He had signed!
At the far end of the parade square stood the hospital. Like all the other so-called
hospitals in the Japanese POW camps, that one was also a dilapidated hut with
nothing in the way of furnishings. It was only a place that separated the sick from
the sicker. Because of the grossly unsanitary conditions in the camp, dysentery
was rampant. I came down with the disease and was put in the "hospital" to
recover or die.
The only treatment available for dysentery was Epsom Salts. Massive doses of the
salts only aggravated the output, but,in general, it flushed out the system, and in
my case, it overcame the problem. The first night in the place I spent on the toilet
seat, a rough, square, wooden hole. I thought the night and my misery, would
never end. In all of my trials in the camps, that was the only time that I prayed that
I would die.
Kai Tak
During the nine months we spent at North Point, nothing much took place until the
summer of 1942. Then we were transported by barge across the harbour to work
on the Kai Tak Airport Kai Tak Airport in 1942 consisted of only one runway. At
one end of the runway was a hill of considerable height. The Japanese set us to
work tearing down the hill and spreading the ground over the level space below
so that the runway could be lengthened.
Under the supervision of the Japanese "engineers" we laid wooden rails about four
feet apart on which we place a primitive type of trolley. The trolley was a simple
platform on four wheels; on the platform was placed a wooden box, built in the
shape of a pyramid with the top cut off.  The box had two handles on each end to
be used in lifting the box. The trolley was pushed up the hill, loaded with dirt, and
allowed to run by the force of gravity down the hill with a rider standing on the
back end.

The trolleys were equipped with a crude brake, a friction piece that could be
jammed against the wheel to slow the car on its decent. When the car reached the
bottom of the hill, it was brought to a halt, and two or more men lifted off the
bottomless box by means of the handles fixed to the sides. The platform was then
upended over the side, then turned upright, the box was replaced and the car was
pushed back up for another load.

Needless to say, we arranged as many "accidents" as possible. For example, we
found that if we went into a curve a little too fast, the tracks would gradually shift
to the outside of the curve. When everything looked just right, the "conductor"
would hit the curve with a little extra speed, and the whole thing, trolley, load,
tracks, and all, would go over the side. The "conductor" if he was agile enough,
would follow the car down over the bank to make the accident look authentic.

Then the repairs would begin, and we always found subtle ways to slow the
process, amid cries of "dommy, dommy" and "speedo, speedo" from our
Japanese bosses. There were few real accidents as a result of our scheming, and
as far as I can remember there was only one serious injury, Frank Methot got a
broken ankle, probably in one of the episodes described above.
There were also few beatings when such an "accident" occurred. A tribute to the
acting ability of the "conductors" and the gullibility of the railway "supervisors".