Author’s Note: This article has been edited for clarity and readability. It is based on interview sessions with Uncle Sarvaes, whose oral history offers a deeply personal account of life during World War II. These stories are part of a broader tapestry of individual, community and collective memory, reflecting the Japanese Occupation’s profound and lasting impact on our local history. Readers are encouraged to approach these accounts with respect and an understanding of their historical and cultural significance. Photo credit: Maitree.

“I HAVE WAITED a long time to tell my story,” said Sarvaesvaran Navaratnam, affectionately known as Uncle Sarvaes, as he sat across from me at the dining table. His eyes have a glimmer—unexpected, perhaps for a 92-year-old man—that somehow made me feel alive. There is a gentle command in his voice and presence, inviting any willing listener into a moment that many cannot, and will not speak of—the harrowing, traumatic experiences of being one of the last survivors of the Japanese Occupation of Malaya.

The Japanese invasion of Malaya occurred just after midnight on 8 December 1941, when over 5,000 troops of the Imperial Japanese Army landed on Sabak Beach, Kota Bharu. A little known fact is that the invasion took place about an hour earlier than the attack on Pearl Harbour, essentially making Malaya the first major Japanese attack of World War II.

Soon after, troops also landed in southern Thailand; the landings in Kota Bharu advanced down the eastern side of the peninsula, while troops in Thailand led the invasion at the west coast. The following day, on 9 December, the first of many air raids on Penang took place, with efforts to neutralise the Royal Air Force (RAF) and the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) stationed in Butterworth.

A Personal Encounter

“I want to start at the beginning. I was nine years old. My family and I were living in Butterworth at the time. The first thing I noticed was the Japanese Zero Fighters that flew over the RAF air base nearby. They dropped some bombs and started to machine gun the place. We saw the Buffalo Fighters taking up the fight, but they were no match to the Zero Fighters—very powerful Japanese planes at the time.”

“The Japanese raided Butterworth, and after one or two days, about 24 Japanese bombers attacked the island. They flew over Butterworth and from where we were staying, we counted one… two… three… four… five… 24 bombers! They made a circle, and flew over Penang.”

Uncle Sarvaes’ recollection mirrors many known community memories of the first few sightings of the Japanese planes flying over the island. During the air raids, civilians were largely left unaffected, and the local population had grown quite used to hearing the air raid sirens and watching air battles.

However, on 11 December, Japanese fighters flew over the island in three groups, in a Vic formation. The people remained in the streets and watched as the enemy circled back and dive-bombed George Town. Immediately after, they returned and machine-gunned people on the streets.

“My elder sister was taking her major exam at Convent Light Street when the bombings began. Thankfully her headmistress told all the students to get under the desks. She escaped the bombing.”

“The Japanese had blasted the entire Carnarvon Street right down to Beach Street. I remember her saying she saw many bodies along the street as she made her way back to Butterworth. My wife’s grandfather was also returning in a trishaw to work when the bombings began.”

Indradevi, also known as Aunty Indra, Uncle Sarvaes’ wife, shared her earliest memories about WWII: “I was about nine years old, and my family and I were in Taiping at the time. We could hear the sound of the bombings from there. At first we thought it was thunder, so we went out to see what was happening. But very quickly, my father rushed all of us out of the house, bundled us in his friend’s car, and told the driver to take us to his friend’s house in a rubber estate nearby so we could go into hiding.”

“My grandparents were in Penang, staying along Madras Lane. My grandfather went to Carnarvon Street on a trishaw the day the Japanese bombed George Town. The shrapnel went through his body and he died on the spot. Someone saw him in the trishaw and informed my grandmother, who was at home then.

“His body was taken to the mortuary, stacked alongside all those who lost their life that day. My grandmother went with her sister to the mortuary to look for the body.” As her grandfather had a relatively fair complexion, any corpse that fit the profile were pulled out to be identified.

“Eventually, they managed to find my grandfather and took him home. There was no cremation during the time, so they buried him at the Batu Lanchang Cemetery. Somehow, they informed my father. He only had a bicycle; following the railway line, he cycled all the way from Taiping to Butterworth, and then took a sampan across to see my grandmother.”

Chaos ensued on the streets of George Town, and while the local population dealt with their losses and fled to places like Penang Hill, Jelutong and Air Itam, the British, who were unprepared for the invasion, shifted their efforts toward evacuating the island. The evacuation of armed forces and British civilians from Penang happened swiftly and quietly, leaving the local population at the mercy of the Japanese.

“After the British left, we had no income. So my father started selling newspapers. Two of them were The Straits Echo and the Malay Mail. I also used to sell the papers with him to support the family. That was how we got the news of what was happening on the island.”

Despite the British departure, the Union Jack was still flying at Fort Cornwallis. The bombings continued; Manicasothy Saravanamuttu, then editor of The Straits Echo, Harold Speldewinde and Gopal “saved” George Town from further destruction—the three were instrumental in taking down the Union Jack, and raising a white flag in surrender at the Fort. Another individual was Ivan Allen. He took a sampan to the mainland and cycled to the Japanese headquarters in Sungai Petani to inform them that the British had left. There were others who read out messages of surrender on the radio to persuade the Japanese to discontinue their bombings. On 19 December, the Japanese took full control of Penang, ending over 150 years of British rule.

“Eventually, things started to settle. The Japanese quickly started their own civil service, and my father became a clerk and we lived in government quarters. The Japanese were strict. If you came late to work, you would have to stand under the sun, facing Japan. I remember my father rushing to work so he wouldn’t have to endure any punishment.”

Uncle Sarvaes added: “We were able to find a sense of normalcy, and there were no robberies. You could keep your house open at all times. The Japanese were very military-like in governance, and there were harsh punishments if you went against them, so people were generally quite scared and followed the rules.”

“When the schools reopened, I went back to school. My sisters became Japanese teachers, and my brother joined the Japanese civil service. The civil servants were given military training at Chung Ling High School, and my brother was one of them.”

Japanese Friends

They learnt the language very quickly. As he bonded with some of the Japanese soldiers, his Japanese became better than his English. “I think that was generally true for Indians and Malays, but sadly the situation was different for the Chinese. Because of the war in China, the local Chinese community had it hard—especially the women.”

During these tumultuous times, one of Uncle Sarvaes’ friends was Imai-san, a Japanese bomber pilot, who made a miniature plane out of one of the propellers from the British plane knocked down during one of the air battles in Butterworth. Uncle Sarvaes’ name is engraved on the plane.

“We lived very close to the sea, so my father used to keep the door open for the sea breeze to come in. Everyone else would keep their doors closed. One day, there was a Japanese truck that stopped by; they were running short of water in the radiator. One soldier came with a pail, and seeing that our door wide open, asked if we could give him some water. From that day on, he would come and visit us. Sometimes, he would spend time with mother in the kitchen, where she would teach him how to pound the rice or cook some dishes. He wanted to learn our culture and we wanted to learn his, so we built a good relationship.”

Although they adapted quickly to the Occupation—rationing, schooling, activities—the biggest disappointment was that there was no rice. “The Japanese took away all our rice—rice was only for them. But Aoyagi was kind to us, he used to bring us extra provisions like tea and pineapples. And once in a while, he would bring us rice.”

“He also used to say that Japan would win the war. I remember my father saying once that the Americans would win the war, and eventually, the British would return. He told my father, ‘If you had said that to any other Japanese soldier, he would have had your head chopped off!’”

But Japan did lose the war, and Aoyagi along with other soldiers left soon after. Four years after the Occupation ended, a letter arrived stating that he was returning to Malaya to visit the family.

“When the British came back, we all went to the seaside. As the first boat that came drew closer to shore, they started tossing bread to us. We hadn’t seen bread for four years! We caught as much as we could. I think it made us realise how much we suffered, especially when it came to food. I don’t know how we survived, living without proper food—especially rice, our staple—was a terrible feeling.”

“The war experience was different for everyone. But it moulded us and made us stronger, more resilient, more appreciative of life. It made me not take life for granted, and to live it fully and peacefully.”

After the Occupation, Uncle Sarvaes continued his secondary education at Penang Free School. He was an avid cricket and hockey player. Both he and Aunty Indra served as teachers until retirement. Uncle Sarvaes’ story is slated to be one of the three that will be featured at the Fort Cornwallis museum opening in 2025.