ato' Ronald McCoy remembers the evening of Thursday, March 17 1949 well. As the School Captain, he stood at the school entrance with the Headmaster Mr. Frederick Daniel and Mr. M. N. Cumarasami, the President of the VIOBA, awaiting the arrival of a very distinguished guest. There had been a heavy downpour in the late afternoon and the school porch and steps were very wet.

The previous day, Mr. Daniel had called a school assembly and briefed the V.I. boys on the special occasion on the morrow – the opening of their new library and the unveiling of the V.I. War memorial. It would however be witnessed only by invited guests, a few masters, the prefects and some Post-senior boys.

The new School Library had been remodeled from the prewar science store room. It replaced the old library which had been located in the staff room under the clock tower next to the school office. The Japanese occupation of the V.I. premises had resulted in the wholesale looting of the old library and other school property. The largest room in the School, it had now comfortable seating accommodation for eighty boys at a time. Its new book-cases were sufficient to hold more than ten thousand books. A generous friend of the School, the father of some Old Boys, had installed twelve fluorescent lighting tubes so that readers could use the Library after dusk.

An urgent call for donations of books for the library had been answered by the Old Boys and friends of the school. A month earlier, in a special assembly, Mr. Chan Hung Chin a distinguished Old Boy and Old Teacher had donated his near-complete set of the school magazine. In addition twenty-five volumes of Encyclopaedia Britannica were donated by Messrs. Shaw Bros. Ltd. The Library was also planned as the school sanctuary where school trophies, memorials and honour boards would be on display. A team of Post-Senior boys - Yau Meng Choy, Fong Ying Hong, Hamzah bin H. M. Saman, Chai Fook See, Lim Hock Han, Tan Kim Bee and George Lee Yau Lung did the gold lettering on the Honour Boards while Loh Weng, the School Carpenter, made all the furniture. And more importantly, it would be the home for the school’s memorial to its war dead of two global conflagrations.

The events of that evening would be the last of a remarkable list of achievements by Mr. Daniel who had been associated with the school since 1930. As the V.I.’s first Senior Science Master, he had pioneered the teaching of science in the VI and, indeed, the Federated Malay States. Modifying the syllabus for tropical schools and turning his notes into secondary textbooks, Mr. Daniel ensured that his name became a byword for science education in Malaya and other parts of the British Empire. This scientist also wore the hat of Commanding Officer of the prewar V.I. Cadet Corps. In that role he molded the Corps into a proud body famed for its smart turnout and annual Empire Day parades.

Incarcerated by the Japanese in Changi Prison during the war, Mr. Daniel had passed the time teaching his own science courses to his fellow POWs. In 1946 after a short period of recuperation in England he was promoted V.I. Headmaster. Mr. Daniel worked tirelessly to rebuild a school shattered by four and a half years of occupation. Forsaking his handsome two-storey headmaster’s bungalow – his wife had cruelly died in captivity a mere two weeks before the Japanese capitulation – he eked out a spartan life in the upper stairs corner room adjoining the science wing. After Changi, the freedom to sleep and cook literally on the school premises must have seemed heavenly.

He had also lost six colleagues from the prewar V.I. staff, members, like him, of the F.M.S. Volunteer units. They all had died from the rigours of incarceration. Mr. Daniel would certainly also have known E. R. de Jong who was the V.I. School Captain when he first joined the school who now lay in an unknown grave somewhere in the Pacific. His was a generation that had seen two terrible wars engulf the globe. As a young man he would have remembered the afflictions of the Great War on his generation and his father's. Daniel himself served in the Honourable Artillery and was a member of the garrison of the Tower of London in 1917. The traditional military notions of honour, glory, discipline, loyalty, sacrifice, pageant and ceremony were what he carried with him when he assumed the V.I. Headmastership. With raw memories of a recent conflict that took the lives of V.I. Old Boys and Old Masters, a shrine to their memory seemed a natural and inescapable fixture for the new V.I. library. Perhaps he was spurred by the poignant plea from John McCrae's In Flanders Fields: "If ye break faith with us who die/ We shall not sleep". (Mr. Daniel arranged to inscribe above the war memorial these lines and two others from that famous poem.)

Hitting the ground running, he orchestrated a formal reopening of the school in October 1946 officiated by the Governor of the Malayan Union. The following year, Mr. Daniel launched the tradition of daily cleaning of classrooms by the boys introducing the award for the Cleanest Classroom of the Week. He next somehow found a replacement for the royal coat of arms above the school porch lost during the Japanese occupation. He also recovered 1927 school foundation stone by chipping off the coat of cement that the Japanese had plastered over it. And, looking for a replacement for the missing school bell, he cut through red tape and lobbied successfully for the watch bell of battleship HMS Malaya to be housed in the V.I. in September 1947. He resurrected the annual athletic sports in 1947 and extended sporting ties to the Old Boys by initiating in November 1948 an annual series of games between Present Boys and Old Boys. The Daniel Shield games commemorate his efforts to the day. In that same year he also inaugurated the Science and Mathematics Society which, with the Photographic Society, is the oldest Society in the school. In his final hectic months in early 1949, the V.I. Headmaster introduced the infamous Detention Classes for errant boys and launched a newly designed school uniform As if that was not enough already, he commissioned teacher Mr. G. F. Jackson to compose the long overdue school song. Mr. Jackson’s composition is now immortal and is sung not only at present day school assemblies but at reunion gatherings in any corner of the globe where Old Victorians lurk.

Now as he stood at the porch, Frederick Daniel’s final legacies were about to fall in place. One can only imagine the diplomacy, tact and wrangling involved behind the scenes and debts Mr. Daniel had to call in to pull off such an event for the V.I. At 6 p.m. a Rolls Royce drew in from the rain. From it alighted some of the highest ranking people in Malaya at that time: the High Commissioner, Sir Henry Gurney and Lady Gurney, Commander Noble, a British Member of Parliament and Mr. Anthony Eden, the Deputy Leader of the Conservative Party. The latter has been the British Foreign Minister during the war years facing off against the likes of Hitler and Mussolini. At the end of the war he had been relegated to the opposition benches, his party having been displaced from power by Mr. Clement Attlee’s Labour Party. In less than two years, however, Mr. Eden’s Conservatives would bounce back and he would reclaim his old portfolio once more under Sir Winston Churchill. And, by 1955, as Sir Anthony Eden, he himself would be British Prime Minister. All that of course lay in the unknowable future that wet March evening in a Malaya under Emergency rule that Mr. Eden was visiting.

Mr. Eden was met by the Headmaster and the President of the V.I.O.B.A. and escorted to the Library, outside of which were gathered relatives and personal friends of the fallen, a few masters, prefects and post-Senior boys. Mr. Daniel then addressed the gathering:

"Before I ask Mr. Eden to cut this and declare open the new School Library, let me explain that when we recovered the use of this building in 1946, it was just an empty shell. Everything else had gone, including the pre-War Library which was housed in another smaller room. By redesigning the Science Wing, it became possible to set free this fine room, the largest in this spacious building. We started work creating this Library only a few months ago, and although it is not yet completed, we have done enough to let you judge its future possibilities for yourselves. Besides housing the school collection of books, this Library, situated in the quietest comer of the School, is also intended to provide a quiet retreat which is badly needed by boys belonging to large families living under crowded and noisy home conditions. It is also to be the School sanctuary, where all School trophies and Honour Boards will be housed. This Library, therefore, is the most suitable home for the School War Memorial, which I shall ask Mr. Eden to unveil later.

"When you get inside, please do not be unduly depressed by the large number of empty shelves. Donations to purchase books are literally pouring in from Old Boys and friends of the School - their generosity to the V.I. has long been proverbial, but none the less amazing. So our Old Boys and friends of the School are providing the books, but some of the present boys are also making an essential contribution. The School Prefects and the handful of post-School Certificate boys present here with us take turns in keeping the Library open from 7.30 a.m. until 9.30 p.m. from Monday to Saturday and also on Sunday morning. They are doing all the labelling, varnishing, indexing and cataloguing of the books that are pouring in. They are also doing all the gold lettering on the Honours Boards and the restoration of some of these boards involves the inscription of over fifty names. So the most encouraging thing about this Library is that it is largely our own creation. And the individual who has played the greatest part in creating this Library is my old friend Loh Weng, our School Carpenter since 1930. So now when I ask Mr. Eden to declare open this new Library, I shall do what the Headmaster and 900 other people of the V.I. are always doing, almost instinctively: call for Ah Weng to bring the necessary tools. But, on this unprecedented occasion, Ah Weng will hand over the tools and look on while Mr. Eden does the job."

Mr. Eden then formally declared the Library open by cutting the dark blue and light blue ribbon. The Headmaster then led the guest round the Library, followed by the rest of the High Commissioner's entourage, the relatives and friends of the fallen Masters and Old Boys, the President of the V.I.O.B.A. and the Victoria Institution representatives. Finally the Headmaster and Mr. Eden reached the narrow dais in front of the Memorial, which was veiled by a Union Jack.

The Headmaster then addressed the gathering:

"We are gathered here this evening to honour the memory of those connected with this School that lie in Services' graves or who would lie in Services' graves if their remains could be recovered. There may be others we have missed. If so, I regret the omission and would ask to be given their names, which will be added to the Memorial. Provision has been made to allow for such additions. One further name reached me too late for inscription in readiness for to-day's ceremony, H. Leembruggen. This name will be remembered to-day and inscribed later.

"To many of us, this simple ceremony has special significance for this is the first concrete spot that enshrines the memory of some of those that once served this School with youthful enthusiasm and afterwards gave their lives in the service of this country. Some of them have no known graves, while most of the other graves are inaccessible. For this reason we are laying wreaths at this Memorial as belonging jointly to you and to the School. And that whenever you wish to visit this spot, to lay an annual wreath, for example, you will always be welcome and honoured visitors. But if you cannot come in person on your own individual anniversaries, the School Captain will lay a wreath so that the V.I. at any rate shall not forget those who died in order that the School might live again. So please be assured that in this land of short memories, the V.I. will not forget.

"I am not going to attempt to put into words what every one knows about Mr. Eden's great work and his rare qualities or what we all feel about his kindness in coming here this evening. I will simply ask him to unveil our School Memorial; there is no one better fitted to do so."

Before he unveiled the Memorial, Mr. Eden made a short speech in which he expressed his pride in being invited to conduct that simple but moving ceremony. He felt sure that the boys of this School, with a tradition for the last fifty years, when looking at the Memorial would always strive to be worthy of it.

It was a solemn moment when Mr. Eden unveiled the Memorial and the names of the fallen were revealed. While the Headmaster conducted Mr. Eden and Commander Noble on a brief tour of the rest of the School, the others remained to lay their wreaths and to be introduced to Sir Henry and Lady Gurney.

The School Prefects, who were lined in the porch, were then introduced by the School Captain to Mr. Eden and Sir Henry Gurney. Dato' Ronald McCoy also took the opportunity of asking Mr. Eden for an autographed photograph for the School, and at the same time handed him copies of the School's post-war magazines. The High Commissioner's party lingered for a few minutes to chat with the bereaved relatives, before leaving for their next engagement.

To commemorate that historic occasion it had intended that Mr. Eden and Commander Noble would plant trees near the row of Peltophorum (Yellow Flame) trees that had been planted earlier along the front of the School in memory of the fallen Masters and Old Boys of the School. However, that could not be arranged owing to the inclement weather.

The following day, Mr. Eden's plane took off from the Kuala Lumpur Airport. At that moment, 900 Victoria Institution boys and their masters, who had just turned out for their daily 20 minutes physical training, formed a huge 'V.I.' monogram right across the padang in 100-yard letters facing East. Mr. Eden’s plane circled the School as it gained height and the whole School waved handkerchiefs to say Selamat Jalan. As the plane headed away to the south, a dispatch rider arrived at the School from King's House, the High Commissioner's residence, to deliver to Mr. Daniel a fine portrait of the previous evening’s guest on which was written: With best wishes from Anthony Eden, March 17 1949.

A total of eleven yellow flame trees were officially planted in memory of the fallen. Most had been planted as early as the previous November (by the headmaster, the School Captain and various school games captains). The following is the order in which trees were planted as recorded in the school archives:

Evidently more than eleven trees were planted in total in that period, for two days after the unveiling of the War Memorial, two other trees were planted by Old Teacher Mr. R. Thampipillay and the Selangor Mentri Besar Dato Hamzah (both Old Boys as well) in memory of former Headmasters Messrs B. E. Shaw and G. C. Davies who had died of non-war related causes. A few weeks later, on April 6th, Mrs. Stratton Brown, the first headmistress of the MGS, planted another yellow flame in memory of her son, Henry Stratton Brown, who had died in May 1941 in an air crash in Johore. Though this incident was a good six months before hostilities began in Malaya, Henry's name was included as he had been a member of the FMS Volunteer Air Force.

True to Mr. Daniel’s promise to remember the school’s fallen, a wreath was placed on the first of May at the War Memorial to commemorate the approximate anniversary of the death of the 1930 School Captain and Cricket Captain, Eric de Jong. Three days later, a wreath was laid for fallen V.I. master of the Great War, Mr. J H V Thornley, and two weeks later, on the 16th, for Old Boy Henry Stratton-Brown.

By the time the next wreath was laid exactly a month later on June 16th - to honour the memory of teacher Mr G. C. Tacchi - a new Headmaster, Mr. E. M. F. Payne, was at the helm of the S.S. Victoria Institution. Frederick Daniel was at that moment somewhere at sea on a different vessel, the Selandia, bound for Britain to a well-earned retirement. His 30-month reign at the V.I. had been an incredible whirlwind of activity, rebuilding, reburnishing the school's traditions and striking out in bold new directions. It would be up to his successors to continue his traditions. But would they have an equally long memory?

"...To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high...."

N O T E S

STRAHAN A.C. [Arthur Conan] MA b. 11.1.1905 Co. Dublin. Educated St Andrew's College, Dublin and Trinity College, Dublin. To Malaya 1928 as European Master FMS: Assistant Master, Victoria Institution KL. In 1933 Headmaster, English School, Segamat, Johore. Returned to VI? Sapper JVE to Cpl 5638 1FMSVF POW Singapore to Borneo with E Force 28. 3.43. Wife Phyllis née Wilson, aged 35, evacuated on the Empress of Japan. Arrived Liverpool 19.3.42. To Kingstown, Co. Dublin then Langley Lodge, Canterbury. He died in captivity 10.8.45 Kuching.

REEVE E.W. [Eric Wilfred] BA b. 24.5.1907. Educated Ipswich Municipal Secondary School and Bristol University. European Master FMS 1929. European Master, High School, Malacca 1933; Raffles Institution 1934-1937 then Victoria Institution KL. Headmaster, Bandar Hilir English School, Malacca. Wife Kathleen [Colonial Nursing Service; married 1938] and daughter Rosemary evacuated on the Aoranji. 16.1.42, arriving Fremantle WA 21.1.42. Returned to UK via USA but Ulysses torpedoed en route. Rescued by US Navy. To Eastham, Middlesex. Sgt then Lt 4SSVF POW Singapore to Thailand 28.10.42. Died in captivity 23.12.43 [36] Chungkai. Thailand. Grave at Chungkai. Kathleen returned to Malaya: State Health Matron, Johore.

GRUNDY H.D. [Hugh Desmond] MA b. 23.1.1908. Educated Queen's College, Cambridge. European Master, FMS Education Dept including Victoria Institution, KL. Wife Edith Eileen, aged 38 in 1942, evacuated on the Empress of Japan with children Audrey and Mark, aged 7 and 4. Arrived Liverpool 19.3.42. To Stanmore, Middlesex. CQMS 2FMSVF POW Singapore to Thailand. Died in captivity 25.10.43 [35] Grave at Chungkai.

TACCHI G.C. [George Clifford] b. 1.2.1913. Teacher Victoria Institution KL then Anderson School, Ipoh. Inspector of Schools, Education Dept. Perak. Wife Helen Teresa worked postwar for UNICEF in Thailand. 2nd Lt 1FMSVF POW Singapore to Thailand with H Force. Died in captivity 16.6.43 Kanyu. Grave at Kanchanaburi.

WHITE T.L. [Thomas Leslie] b. 23.4.1910 Ladybank, Fife, Scotland. Education Dept. Teacher Victoria Institution KL. Wife Margaret Jean H. Mackenzie MBE, also a teacher, interned Changi Gaol then Sime Rd. He was CQMS 7558 2FMSVF POW Singapore to Thailand with H Force 13.5.43. Died in  captivity 20.1.44 [33] Sime Rd Camp, Singapore shortly after return from Thailand 12.43.

LEEMBRUGGEN H.A. [Harold Augustus]  b. 24.11.1907. Educated Victoria Institution. Clerk. Wife Lilian m. 1940. Daughters Colleen & Audrey. Pte 13577 ISSVF POW Singapore to Thailand with D Battalion 12.10.42. Died in captivity 21.1.44  [36] Tarsao, Thailand of malnutrition. He was the uncle of Geoffrey Leembruggen, 1946 VI School Captain.

SEIMUND R.C. [Ronald Claude] b. 12.12.1922 KL. V.I. Student. Gunner 13833 FMSVF Light Battery POW Singapore to Thailand with D Battalion 12.10.42. Lost at sea 12.9.44 on the Rakuyo Maru [en route to Japan] which was sunk by mistake by US submarines.

DANIEL, Sarah Emilia (May) Teleprinter Operator Malaya Command Signals. Daughter of Harry and Flora A. Bamford. Wife of Frederick Daniel of Roveries, Bishop's Castle, Shropshire. Sumatra internee. Died in captivity 25.8.45 [44] Sumatra. Grave at Jakarta War Cemetery.

Memorial plaque in V.I. Prefects Room

Local newspaper notice

DE JONG, E.R. [Eric] VI School Captain 1930. Pte 25301 2SSVF 'G' MG Company.

[The above biographical notes of the deceased are courtesy of Mr Jonathan Moffatt, co-author Moon over Malaya: a Tale of Argylls & Marines; also a founder member of the Malayan Volunteers Group and Chairman of the Researching FEPOW History Group/Conference.]

FRANK, G. N. [Geoffrey] b. 1924 KL. V.I. Student. Capt., 17th Dogras, then Force 136. Killed in freak vehicle accident, Singapore, January 7, 1946.

Talalla Family Group Photo (c. late 1940). Henry Talalla and his brother Cyril (later Jimmy) are in RAF uniform with their parents (Mr and Mrs H B Talalla) and their brothers. Guest of honour and visitor to their Golf View Road house is Air Chief Marshall Sir Robert Brooke-Popham, Commander-in-Chief of the British Far East Command.

DANIEL F. [Frederick] BSc b.15.4.1899. Educated Lady Manners School, Bakewell and Manchester University. Colonial Education Service: General Science Teacher, British Guiana 1922 then to Malaya 1930. Science Master, Victoria Institution KL from 1930. In Australia 7.12.41. Returned to Singapore 23.12.41 and reported to MAS HQ, Singapore Aged 43 in 1942. Changi and Sime Rd internee. Wife died in Sumatra. He wrote and conducted Science classes in Changi. Science Inspector post-war then Principal, Victoria Institution 1946. Retired 1949 Lived and gardened in Aberystwyth. Died 29.7.71 Ivybridge.

Hera Singh was the V.I. Cricket Captain of 1938, a School Prefect and an outstanding sportsman. After leaving the school he joined the King Edward VII College of Medicine in Singapore. On February 14, 1942, as Japanese forces were besieging Singapore, a colleague of his, Yoong Tatt Sin, died of wounds received from a Japanese bombardment. That same afternoon as a group of medical students, including Hera, gathered in the College grounds for Yoong's burial, some Japanese artillery rounds exploded near the group killing Hera and nine students. Other students who survived included Hera's V.I. classmate, David Tan Chee Khoon (later Tan Sri) who narrowly escaped the flying shrapnel from the blast by jumping into a trench. A bronze memorial plaque for Hera Singh and the ten other medical students was installed after the war at the site where the incident occurred. Hera's brother, Gorbex Singh, was a pre-war and post-war V.I. teacher, who engaged in anti-Japanese activities during the war.

My story begins with my decision to train as a nurse. On reflection, it was what I had always wanted to do, but my mind was finally made up when I was 23, after I had worked for several years as a children’s nurse.

I discussed my decision with my parents, and after making various enquiries about Hospital Training Schools in London and the provinces, I eventually decided that the East Suffolk and Ipswich Hospital (as it was then called) served my purposes best, as it had an excellent Training School for nurses, with good opportunities for practical experience.

My application was accepted, and I started my training in 1930. It was hard work, with long hours and little time off-duty, during which lectures had to be attended. But they were happy days, despite the hard work, and I made many friends.

During my training, I was doing a period of Night Duty, and on my nights off, I usually visited friends. On this occasion, I visited some friends who owned a farm just outside Ipswich. Their son, John, was a school-master at the local Grammar School. He was a shy, quiet, precise young man, who had been taking dancing lessons and he asked me if I would like to go to a Supper Dance at The Great White Horse Hotel with him. As I was on leave I was able to stay overnight with his parents, instead of having to return to the Nurses' Home by 10.00 p.m. John and I met up with some other young friends at the dance. During an interval, I happened to glance at the Ballroom door, and there stood a tall, bronzed, handsome young man, dressed in an immaculate dinner jacket. I was immediately attracted to him. I asked who he was, and John, who had been at school with him replied, "That is Eric Reeve just back on leave from Malaya". We called him over, and invited him to join our party. I'm sure it was love at first sight. We danced together, and I asked him to have supper with us. During supper, John mentioned that he would like me to see the School Play the next day, but as he was in the play himself, he couldn't pick me up from the farm. So Eric offered to call for me, and after that, we met on several occasions during my off-duty times and we became close friends.

Six months later, Eric returned to Malaya, and eventually we lost touch with one another. I took my Nursing Finals, and then a course in Midwifery, Children's Nursing and Public Health Nursing. One day, I noticed an advertisement in a Nursing journal for a Nursing Sister in Malaya. It stated that only London trained Nurses need apply. However, I decided to apply, and during the interview I was asked what I was doing at the time. On telling them, I was told to finish my Public Health Training, as I was just the type of person they required. I thought that it was just a good excuse and a kind way of telling me that I was an unsuccessful applicant. However, just as I had sat my final exams, I received a pre-paid telegram offering me the post of Nursing Sister in Malaya. Within a month, I was sailing on the P & O liner Kalser-i-Hind for Malaya.

I was appointed to the General Hospital in Singapore, as Sister on the Children's Ward. At first I was not very happy because I was worried at the number of tiny babies of which I was in charge. Although there was quite a big staff of excellent Chinese nurses, I felt that many babies weren't receiving the attention they should. Also, there were many deaths among the children.

One evening, after writing up the day's report, I idly thumbed through the telephone directory, and came across the name E.W. Reeve. I dialled the number, and asked to speak to Mr. Reeve. It was Eric, and he immediately knew my voice. He asked when I had arrived, as he had been down to meet every ship, except the Kaiser-i-Hind, which was on her last voyage before being scrapped. In view of this, he thought it most unlikely that the Government would send me out on it. Apparently he had read about my appointment as Nursing Sister in the London Gazette. Eric could have been working anywhere in the Peninsula, but fate stationed him in Singapore. We dined together that night, and spent as much time together as possible.

I had many other male friends, but Eric remained constant, and eventually asked me to marry him. I was having a wonderful time, going to dances, dinners, night clubs, Swimming Club events and to the Raffles Hotel for Saturday morning Pimms, etc. I didn't want to get married just then, but he asked me again and again, and eventually I gave in. As I hadn't finished my three year tour, Eric had to buy me out of my contract, and we were married at St. Andrew's Cathedral. Singapore, on 12th July, 1938. Three days later, we sailed for England on furlough on the P & O liner Stratheden.

After six months leave we returned to Malaya early in 1939 and Eric was appointed Headmaster of the Government English School in Malacca. We had a small old Dutch-Portuguese House overlooking the Malacca Club. It had marble floors, and pillars in the dining room, but a rickety wooden upstairs, consisting of a lounge, a balcony which ran the whole length of the house, two bedrooms and a shaky built-on bathroom at the back, containing a large earthenware jar (Ali Baba) and an elsan.

A large modern house was under construction at the foot of Pringgit Hill, with stippled walls (the very latest idea), and everyone wondered to whom it would be allocated. To our amazement and delight, it was offered to us, as Eric was the most Senior Government Official in Malacca at the time. We were thrilled, especially after the house in Fort Terrace.

We gave many parties, and led a hectic social life. We attended tea-parties and dinner-parties at the Residency. We played golf and tennis. Eric played hockey and cricket for Malacca. We joined the Swimming Club and the Malacca Club, and went to all the social events there, we played Bridge and Mah Jong, and Eric played Chess. The very latest films were shown at the one picture house and after the show we usually had a stengah and a dance round the floor at the Dance Hall next door, before going home.

We had been married for 18 months when Rosemary was born in Singapore on 21.1.40 and we were deliriously happy, but even at that time I had a nagging premonition that something dreadful was going to happen.

Some months later, while Rosemary was playing on her drugget in the lounge, and the Boy had brought us our usual evening Stengah, I blurted out my nagging premonition. "We are far too happy, we have a beautiful baby, positions, a lovely home, servants and money, but I feel something dreadful is going to happen". I remember to this day the quizzical look my husband gave me.

The War had been raging in England for about two years by this time, but we still felt quite safe in the Far East. It was decided, however, to start a Blood Bank in Malacca, and to practise attending bomb casualties. I volunteered, and helped at the Blood Bank by identifying Blood Groups. I was also given an old Ambulance, which I had to equip with dressings, splints etc. I had to scrounge these when and where I could. Black-outs were started now and again for practice, and when the siren sounded. I had to go to the hospital nearby to get my ambulance. Then I was sent out to a certain location, where I would find someone groaning and screaming with a realistic wound plaque attached to him. The show would often attract quite a crowd of on-lookers. I had to dress the "wound" and bundle the person into the ambulance and race back to the Hospital. Once I had to apply a splint to a "broken" leg. The casualty was rather a big man, and he insisted that the driver and I should carry him back to the Ambulance. After carrying him a few steps we couldn't manage any more, so we dropped him, and made him hop the rest of the way, despite his protests.

Then came the bomb-shell with the sinking of the two battleships, the Repulse and the Prince of Wales on 10th December 1941 in the Straits of Johore. We were all dumb founded. It couldn't be true. It must be a rumour; it wasn't possible, but alas, it was true. Eric ordered the kebun (gardener) to dig a large trench at the end of the garden, under some rubber trees, and told the servants that in the event of an air-raid, they were to get into the trench with their families, together with Amah, Rosemary and me. Our white house, alone at the foot of the hill, stood out like a sore thumb and would have been an easy target, especially on a moonlight night.

At the beginning of January 1942, Eric was called up with the 4th Battalion Malacca Volunteer Force, and was sent to Singapore. He rang me most nights, but eventually decided that I should travel down to Johore to stay with friends as the Japanese were infiltrating into the northern part of Malaya through the rubber plantations on bicycles, and landing in small groups by boat along the coast. I was most reluctant to leave my beautiful home and my faithful servants. Amah was upset and tearful at the thought of leaving Rosemary, but we eventually left sometime towards the middle of January, with only a suitcase each. I pleaded with the syce to drive us to Johore and even offered him the car as a reward. We drove down country by the inland road between rubber trees and isolated Malay kampongs as the main road was unsafe. Near to Johore a lone plane flew overhead and we hurriedly scrambled into the nearest storm drain. We heard the rat-tat-tat of machine gun fire, but all was well, and the car was not hit, and we were safe. Eric came over to Johore the same evening to see us. He seemed worried. The syce stayed overnight, but refused to take the car, afraid that the Japanese would know that he had worked for Europeans. By this time, the Navy, Army and Air Force had evacuated their women and children from Singapore by ship, but the Government did nothing for us.

The next day, I left Rosemary with our friend's Amah and went shopping in Singapore. While there the air-raid siren went and the Japanese dropped bombs on the city. I was in the Restaurant on the top floor of one of the big stores in Raffles place. The staff all disappeared, so the European customers who were left, went into the kitchens, helped ourselves to lunch and left the money at the pay-desk. On leaving the store I was shocked to see the damage done by the bombing and realized how stupid I had been and how lucky to have escaped unscathed. I hastily returned to Johore Bahru.

Eric managed to see us as often as his duties allowed. Then one evening towards the end of January 1942, he told me he had bought tickets for us to leave Malaya on the next available ship. He returned the next day, and took us to the Docks. He was not allowed beyond the Dock Gates, and his last words to me were: "Make for home - I will wire you money". We were only allowed one suitcase and 100 Malayan Dollars each, but I had extra dollars 1n case of emergency and Rosemary's dolls pram.

While we were on board the ship waiting to sail bombs were being dropped on the docks and other ships there but luckily we escaped unscathed. I wasn't sure where the ship was supposed to be heading, but eventually we docked at Freemantle, Western Australia. On disembarking, my luggage was nowhere to be found, only the dolls pram. The Red Cross took over, and we went to Perth by bus, where we were housed in the University while the students were away on vacation. The Red Cross gave me a change of underwear and some sun-suits for Rosemary, and we were then allocated to various families in and around Perth. A Mrs. Jean McIntyre, an Army Major's wife, took us in. She was most kind and we stayed with her for nearly six weeks. During that time I went to several banks, but failed to find any money wired to me from Singapore. I felt I should try to make arrangements to get back to England, so after six weeks we bade goodbye to Jean and thanked her for her kind hospitality. We still remain good friends today, although we only stayed for a short while.

We flew from Perth to Sydney in a small plane. This had to make frequent refuelling stops in the scrub and desert, and it took us 1½ days to fly across the continent. We had to spend the night at one refuelling depot, and I was so sick I couldn't go into the town with the other passengers, but had to stay at the airport for the night. On reaching Sydney, we were taken by bus and dumped in the middle of the town. Not knowing where to go, and with very little money left, I hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take us to the Wentworth Hotel. I had heard someone mention this hotel, but had no idea how grand it was. They gave me a very strange look at the reception desk, as I had no luggage, only a brown paper parcel and Rosemary's dolls pram. Children were not allowed in the dining room, so I had to get a chamber-maid to look after Rosemary while I had a meal and I had to take food secretly out of the dining room foyer.

Again, I went to a bank to find out if I had been wired any money and this time I saw the Manager. He was very sympathetic and I just sat and cried and poured out my whole story - lost luggage, little money, difficulty with meals at the Hotel. He was shocked when he heard that I was staying at the Wentworth and immediately found me alternative accommodation in a Boarding House just outside Sydney. He also rang round, and discovered that our luggage had been sent to Adelaide, and that money was waiting for me in another bank.

On arriving at our new accommodation, I discovered that they didn't take children either, but I suppose I looked so dejected, they offered to put us up in a flat a few doors away to sleep. For meals Rosemary and I were placed behind screens in one corner of the dining room. We didn't stay there for long because I had heard of a cargo ship leaving for England. We left Sydney eventually, towards the end of March 1942 on the Ulysses, but although I had tickets, we were not on the passenger list and, as all the cabins were taken, we were given a cabin in the crew's quarters. The passengers were mostly refugees from Hong Kong and Malaya, mainly women and children, with a few elderly men. We had life-boat drill three times a day and everyone had to be present. If anyone failed to answer the roll-call, an Officer was sent to find the missing person and the whole ship's complement had to wait until they were found.

My life-boat station was on the top boat-deck, and it was difficult to climb up carrying a small child. The cork life-jacket was far too big and heavy for Rosemary who fell down with the weight of it and I had to bribe one of the crew to cut one down for her.

From Sydney, we sailed to Wellington, New Zealand, where the boat docked for a couple of days. Then we sailed across the Pacific and through the Panama Canal into the Caribbean Sea. One afternoon, I was in our cabin while Rosemary was having her afternoon sleep, when there was a terrific thud and bang and the alarm bells rang. I gathered Rosemary up, grabbed a small blanked, my "panic bag" containing our marriage certificate, and birth certificates; my husband's will and some Horlicks Malted Milk Tablets and left with our life-jackets for our life-boat stations. On the way upstairs, I met people coming down to their cabins to collect their life-jackets. There was no panic, but I learned that a torpedo had hit the bows of the ship. Life-boats were lowered and we got into them and although the sea was quite rough, we all managed to get way from the ill-fated ship.

Living in the crew's quarters, I was the only woman with a child in our life-boat. The rest were mostly Chinese crew with one or two European Officers. We saw another torpedo streaking through the water and hit the Ulysses mid-ships, and the ship sank very majestically beneath the waves. The Captain and Chief Engineers sailed by us on a raft, and we took them into our life-boat. I remember seeing boxes of cheese and other debris floating around us.

The sea was rough and I was very sick and I suppose I must have had one arm hanging over the side of the boat because the Captain shouted at me, to warn me that there may be sharks around. The boats seemed to drift apart, and twilight came. It began to get cold, and I became increasingly afraid that we would never be rescued. The Chinese crewmen were restless and the Officers had to strike some of them with the oars to restore order. Then, out of the twilight, loomed a big ship. It was an American Destroyer, which had apparently picked up our May Day call. They threw a net over the side of the ship, which stood high out of the water. When my turn came I had to wait my time until the life-boat was near enough so that I could jump and grab the net. I climbed up with Rosemary clinging on to me. Near the top a sailor grabbed Rosemary by one arm, and I screamed at him, "Don't drop my baby". He told me to throw my bag up on deck, but I had seen others doing the same and their bags had landed in the sea, so I ignored him and kept it with me. We had to be quick getting up the net, because the submarine might still have been lurking.

We were taken to the Officer's Ward Room and I noticed a Teddy Bear sitting on a shelf. It looked exactly like the one Rosemary had, but I had left hers in our cabin on the Ulysses. I remarked about it to the Stewardess, who confirmed that it was Rosemary's and that she had picked it up when she was checking our cabin. Rosemary still has the Teddy Bear to this day.

We were given the Officer's Quarters to sleep in. I had a top bunk and as the sea became increasingly rough, the Destroyer dipped and tossed from side to side, and I had the greatest difficulty in holding on to Rosemary and the bunk-rail throughout the night, to avoid being pitched on to the deck.

Later the next day, on 13th April 1942, we were landed at Charleston, South Carolina. We were greeted by an enthusiastic crowd, and a band, as we were the first women and children survivors to be landed there. A coach took us to a hotel, and we were given a hot meal. We were also allowed to send one cable to a relative. I didn't want to frighten or upset my parents, so I sent mine to my brother in New York. He immediately wired to the British Consul to detain me, and he would come to meet me. However, I never received the message from the Consul, and I left for New York by train with the other survivors. On reaching New York, we were taken to another hotel and the ladies who made up "Bundles for Britain" gave out clothing. I felt that my brother and his wife - a paediatrician - would see that Rosemary and I had sufficient warm clothing for crossing the Atlantic, so I didn't accept any clothing. The British Consul also loaned us all £20.

My brother finally caught up with us, and took us to his home but my sister-in-law and I had differences about whether I should stay and work in America, which would mean leaving Rosemary in a creche, or go home. So I decided to return to England, as I had promised Eric. No mention was made about clothing, and I was far too proud to ask them, so I had to go humbly back to the "Bundles for Britain" depot, and ask for warm clothing, at least for Rosemary. That very day, some kind person had donated 100 dollars for the survivors of the torpedoed ship, as we were called, and they decided to take me out shopping. First they bought me a suitcase and then some beautiful clothes for Rosemary, and a blouse suit and overcoat for me.

The American Red Cross organised our passage back to England, and we sailed from New York to Nova Scotia where we waited for nearly two weeks until a convoy of nearly 100 ships had assembled. In the meantime our ship had filled up with survivors from other torpedoed ships. To start with Canadian corvettes sailed with us, rounding up any stragglers as it was essential that we all kept together. Halfway across the Atlantic, British corvettes took over from the Canadians. It was then the wolf packs of German submarines became a menace and many times during the voyage depth charges were dropped. Thanks to the brave sailors manning the corvettes, all the ships in the convoy arrived safely at Greenock.

Although we were all refugee-survivors, we had to be questioned by the Military Authorities. I was questioned at great length as I had more money than the others. Nearly everyone else had spent their money, plus the £20 loaned by the British Consul, but I had saved all mine. I angrily told the authorities that my husband was a Japanese Prisoner of War and that they should mind their own business, so they let me go.

We were just in time with the help of a lady from the women's Voluntary Service to catch the one train leaving for London and home, nearly 3½ months after leaving Singapore.

My husband died working on the Burma-Siam Railway, in December 1943 after various illnesses including having a leg amputated. His death was caused by jungle ulcers, dysentery and pellagra.

Kathleen Reeve, 100, with daughter Rosemary

In 1946 I returned to Malaya and worked first as a Hospital Sister. Then I was transferred to the Preventive Medicine side. I started clinics and trained nurses to look after mothers and babies in Kuala Kangsar, Alor Star and Johore Bahru. Eventually I was appointed Health Matron for the state of Johore until Malaya became independent in 1957, when I retired, and returned to England to live.

April 8th 1946

Dear Mrs. Reeve,

I cannot tell you how glad I was to receive your letter, which was forwarded from Singapore after I had left there last month. I had tried many channels to try and find your address, but R.A.P.W.I. & S.S.V.F H.Q could not assist. I particularly wanted to write to you because Eric was one of the closest and most valued friends I had as a P.O.W.

My first contact with him was on joining the Malacca Volunteers about 5 weeks before Singapore capitulated. He was Signals Officer and also Burials Officer. At that time we were in a camp out at Jalan Eunos - the continuation of Still Road, Katong. Some of our Eurasian boys were killed out at Changi when cleaning mangroves, and Eric and I went out with a party to bury them. I remember how many little incidents on that occasion impressed me with his extraordinary thoroughness and sense of responsibility. I saw him on and off in the days that followed but (as I used to joke him afterwards) he seemed to have a lurking suspicion that I had a tail and cloven hooves, or was a Father Holt on Thackeray lines!

Then our unit was sent into action not so far from Ford’s Works on the Bukit Timah Road and we kept retreating till we ended up on Malcolm Road (between Thompson Road and Bukit Timah Road in the vicinity of Newton Circus). Eric had his signals in very efficient order despite the constant changing of place. His men in the Signal Section were very attached to him - they were all Eurasians and Eric was one of the few who they felt was really sympathetic towards them. There was no patronage or condescension in his handling of them. And as most of my flock were Eurasians I had a better opportunity of realizing how they liked and trusted him. We went out to Changi Barracks two days after capitulation and all the Volunteers were occupying the floor of one of the big barracks there - Officers and men together.

I don't recall very much about Eric during that fortnight beyond a rather wordy battle on Communism and the Catholic Church's attitude towards it. I do recall how cheerful Eric kept, and how readily he hopped into any fatigues that were called for in that rather chaotic period of our existence. Many found it very difficult to settle down to realities and tried to wriggle out of doing what might quite reasonably be asked of them – Eric, as you might expect - more than pulled his weight. He was always so practical and resourceful in emergencies, and co-operated with complete self-effacement with anyone else’s honest efforts to get things done. Then about the first week in March the Officers were made to live separately from the men in what was known as the married quarters - rows of flats. Erie and I found ourselves together on a small verandah, and that was where we really got to know each other.

I remember each week, generally on a Sunday morning, he would write down an account of current events, and of his thoughts and reactions to things, in the form of a letter to you and Rosemary. He spoke constantly about you both about Malacca, your home there, the garden you made, the friends you had there etc. Also he spoke a lot about Suffolk, his school days at Ipswich, his University days at Bristol. What most impressed me in everything he ever said about his home life with you and he spoke much of it because obviously it was the supreme thing in life that mattered to him - was the remarkable peace and completeness he derived from it. He gave me the impression that all he had hoped for in marriage had been realized in you. It must be a great source of consolation to you that you did mean everything to Eric, that you had given him everything he could have desired. I suppose the notes he wrote in the exercise book in letter form to you must have been lost in Thailand - so little had a chance of surviving even in the case of those who survived – any written document was ordered to be destroyed.

His main form of recreation at this time was chess. Poor David Waters (R.I.P.), Bob and Pat McGarry, Ted Barker, Bill Horne and many others had a current competition. Eric, I think, was runner-up. He loved discussion and arguments and as our back-grounds were so divergent and our whole philosophy of life so at variance, you can imagine what battles royal we had. By temperament I am excitable and quick, Erie was the complete contrary, and the wonder of it was that no matter how hectic the controversy it never made the slightest difference to our complete amiability.

Conditions were very primitive indeed, but Eric got the idea that we should try and observe what niceties we could to keep up our own self-respect. Hence he manufactured a small tablecloth for the diminutive box that served as a table for meals on our verandah and other similar things, I used to say Mass each morning which meant I was late for breakfast, and having to visit the hospital and attend to other professional jobs, I am afraid I was very irregular in comings and goings. Always I would find on return not only that my food had been drawn for me but that special precaution had been taken to keep it warm etc. Whatever each of us acquired in the way of food or anything else was common property - Eric had a knack of somehow giving the other party a larger share than he was entitled to. At Changi he became a member of the Male Choir which John McNeish conducted. He was very enthusiastic on this. He had a big oversense of humour and the trials and inequalities of life never succeeded in getting him down - his appreciation of the humour of even the grimmest situation came to his rescue.

In October 1942 we were draughted up to Thailand - five days by train to Bang Pong. I was not in the same carriage (cattle truck) as Eric, but at the far end, we were together again on the march up to Tarsao. It was a pretty dreadful journey – we had to carry all we had on one’s person through the jungle tracks, through padi fields etc. for four days. I had my Church paraphernalia and my Mass Kit. As this was vital I dumped a good deal of personal gear. Even with this I found myself at the end of my tether. I began to fall back in the march. Eric kept with me and encouraged me to keep going. Then when he saw I was getting knocked out he took my Mass Kit himself and carried it. It was something I can never be sufficiently grateful to him for - without it I should have been at a complete loss to do the essential thing for my Catholic men. May God bless him for it.

The first camp we were in in Thailand was Kinsaioke. Food was very scarce. I remember a Catholic Nip guard gave me a little McClean bottle full of salt - it was gold in worth to Eric and me. Then we were shifted down to Kann. Things were quite endurable for two months or so and then the "speeds" on the railway began. We were together for a few weeks and than Eric went to a satellite camp four kilometres away under Major Roland Lyne (Y.M.C.A. S’pore). The two McGarrys were also there. It was indeed a testing time and Eric’s characteristic tenacity and determination enabled him to hang on and go through with it. The other men who were with him at the time often spoke afterwards with special admiration for his heroic tenacity that refused to be depressed.

Then came the last chapter in the up river period. A party of 100 men and 2 Officers were detailed to go to another camp. The Officer appointed made representations which prevailed and he was relieved from the job. Eric was then named. It was a mercy for the 100 men that he was. They had the greatest difficulties from the Nips in charge with regard to security rations, cooking utensils and much besides. Eric fought tooth and nail to get all he could. They had been forbidden to contact a British Camp close by which was under a different Nip Administration - but he and some others slipped into the camp at night and successfully begged for food and utensils. It was a very grim ten days. Then they returned to the main camp at Lower Kann. I met him down there. We had a long talk about his experiences. I spoke to his men. They were full of admiration and gratitude for what he had saved them from. There was a F.M.S. Volunteer officer called Fitzgerald, a young Irishman, who had been with Eric during this period. He was thought to have contracted cholera so the whole party was isolated. Never did I see Eric shoulder a disagreeable responsibility with greater determination. His own foot had a bad ulcer, and he was put into the hospital. Orderlies were short and anyone who could assist was called upon. His uncomplaining fortitude was something I shall always admire during those particular days.

I saw him quite frequently at that time. He was quite suddenly put on a ‘down river’ party and the barges left at very short notice. I was away for a short time that day and he had gone when I returned. He left a battered book with beautiful illustrations in it - The Beauty of England (or some similar title). Unfortunately I lost it later. I did not see him again. He went on to Chungkai, and when our turn came for evacuation we only got as far as Tarsao. It was Ted Barker who told me of his death in December. Pat McGarry (c/o Bank of Scotland, Edinburgh, I think his address is) whom I met months afterwards saw a good deal of him in Chungkai.

There was so much that made Eric a unique and admirable character that I find it hard to specify what I admired most in him. I think it was the extraordinary rectitude of his intention and will. He was chary and tinged with a certain skepticism - difficult to persuade or convince, but few men I have met have excelled him in sheer honesty of mind and sincerity, and I find it difficult to recall anyone who regulated his conduct by the very definite and high principle of moral conduct that he believed in, with greater integrity and determination. Eric by no means (at least as long as I knew him) shared my own religious beliefs, but I tell you in all simplicity that I pray each morning at Mass for the happy repose of his great soul and in doing so I feel the greatest confidence that his sheer sincerity of mind and heart have won him an everlasting reward of happiness. I count it a great privilege to have known and to have enjoyed the friendship of so noble and genuine a character.

You asked did he receive letters from you. I distinctly remember him mentioning that you and Rosemary had been torpedoed en route which implies he did hear from you.

We have this belief in common dear Mrs Reeve that the upright and sincere are eternally rewarded by God and the thought of the great reunion that shall never end, which await you, does give a ray of consolation. I fear to suggest ideas I would recall to one of my own people lest I obtrude our own beliefs upon you. But if the ache of loss is keen, there is yet so much to thank God for whilst He gave Eric to you, and there is so much to look forward to - beckoning to you and reminding where your true home and happiness lie. May God strengthen and console you and Rosemary.

Very sincerely

Gerard Bourke

Young Men’s Christian Association of Singapore
“A” Orchard Road
Singapore, 9.

10th March 1967

Dear Mrs. Reeve,

I am taking a liberty in writing to you because you do not know me. I am prompted to take the liberty as a result of a letter I received a few days ago from Father Gerard Bourke in which he mentioned you and your daughter Rosemary.

During the bad days of the Japanese Occupation I spent a year or so in fairly close association with Eric. We were in the same party to leave Singapore for Thailand in late October 1942 and we were together in the same camps until mid-July 1943. In April 1943 a party of us were moved from Kanu Riverside Camp, up the hill to construct Kanu No. l. I was then put in charge of an Officers Working Party which included both Eric and Father Bourke and we spent a period cutting and hauling bamboo for hut construction. After three weeks of this type of occupation I was sent in charge of a party to Kanu Ko.2 which was about four miles south of Kanu No. 1, and Eric was in the party.

Conditions became increasingly grim and the daily toil heavier and more unpleasant as the wet monsoon progressed and turned the whole country into a mud swamp. The railway track actually passed our camp in mid-July and the pressure on us eased a little, but not for long. Eric and another officer were chosen by the Japanese to go with a party of so-called fit men (every one of them should have been sent down to the base hospital) further up the line where the work was behind schedule. I was left with the remainder, many were incapable of walking, and ordered to break camp and take the personnel and the stores back to Riverside Camp.

I eventually found myself in charge of a camp of over 300 men, all very sick, more than half without shelter, no good tools but only broken or discarded ones and under the command of a Japanese Sergeant commonly referred to as "Dr Death". We were supposed to be sending sick people down to base hospital. After three weeks of this Eric and the remainder of his party arrived under Japanese guard and were isolated in a section of hillside higher up than our camp and we were ordered to keep away from them as they belonged to another Japanese group. However, I managed to see Eric and he and his people were in very poor shape. We did what we could (goodness knows it was little enough we were able to do) to help but they were moved off again after a few days. Some months later when I managed to make my way down to Tarsao Base Camp and contacted some of our S.S.V.F. colleagues, I learned that Eric was no longer with us.

It was in Tarsao that I contacted Father Bourke again and we were in hospital together for some time until I was hauled out again to work on the Graveyard Party.

I have twice visited Kanchinaburi; once in 1949 when I took my wife to see her brother’s grave. Things were very rough at that time and it was quite an experience. I was there again in August 1965 and it was all very much more civilised and the cemetery is in good order and well cared for.

"The Bridge" over the River Meklong, not the River Kwai, (The River Kwai never existed to my knowledge, the River Kwa Noy was the river that we knew) is now used by the Thailand Railways and I stood at the end of the bridge at Tamarkan and watched a train go over the bridge labelled for "SIOK". It was at KINSIOK that our party first broke into the Thailand jungle and started to build a camp there in December 1942.

It is all a long way behind us. The ranks of those who came back are thinning out but those of us that remain cannot forget.

I anticipate that I shall be able to retire by the end of this year after serving the Y.M.C.A. here for 43 years. The problem that faces my wife and me is, to where shall we retire? How this problem is going to be resolved constitutes a further problem.

With kind regards,

Yours sincerely,

Rowland Lyne
General Secretary
Young Men’s Christian Association of Singapore

[Eric Reeve material used courtesy of his daughter, Rosemary Fell.]

In Flanders Fields is one of the most famous war poems ever written. Taught to generations of school children in the English-speaking world, it is often recited in Remembrance Day or Veterans Day observances. It has been quoted wholly or in part in countless inscriptions including, of course, the V.I. War Memorial, in a separate panel above the names. (That panel was removed some years ago).

The author was Dr. John McCrae, a surgeon attached to the Canadian 1st Field Artillery Brigade. He had written poetry and short stories in his university days at McGill. Following the burial of a friend, killed by shell fire in the second battle of Ypres on 2 May 1915, McCrae turned to poetry the following day to vent his grief. Dissatisfied by his effort, McCrae had tossed it away but it was retrieved by a fellow officer who sent it to newspapers in London. The poem was rejected by The Spectator but accepted by Punch which printed in its 8 December issue that same year.

In Flanders Fields became the poem of the Allied armies with soldiers memorizing it and circulating it by word of mouth. In the summer of 1915, McCrae was transferred to the Number 3 Canadian General Hospital in France, where he was second in command of medical services. While still at this hospital in January 1918, McCrae became ill with pneumonia, which was soon complicated by meningitis. He died on 28 January 1918, and was buried with military honours at Wimereaux Cemetery in France.

Poets around the world have "replied" to McCrae.
Here are a few "answers":

In Flanders Now Edna Jacques (1891-1978) We have kept faith, ye Flanders' dead, Sleep well beneath those poppies red, That mark your place. The torch your dying hands did throw, We've held it high before the foe, And answered bitter blow for blow, In Flanders' fields. And where your heroes' blood was spilled, The guns are now forever stilled, And silent grown. There is no moaning of the slain, There is no cry of tortured pain, And blood will never flow again In Flanders' fields. Forever holy in our sight Shall be those crosses gleaming white, That guard your sleep. Rest you in peace, the task is done, The fight you left us we have won. And "Peace on Earth" has just begun In Flanders now.