Philip OPAS QC interview 4/8/2003

Did the war breed in you a sense of the terrible injustices that can be perpetrated? Did this lead to your later interest in human rights?

Definitely.  In 1945 when the war ended, I was the officer in charge of a group that arrested the commandant of a prisoner of war camp in Kuching.  I took him into custody, escorted him back and I volunteered for the firing squad.  Had I been selected, I would have had to administer the coup de grace, which the officer in charge (usually) does.  There's usually an eight man firing squad in the charge of an officer - the firing squad fires their shots - one of them has a blank, so that nobody knows which one had it - but at the end, the officer in charge had to apply a revolver to the temple of the victim.  I could have done that in those days, because the man I arrested was accused of crucifying two Diak women by nailing them to crosses in the marketplace at Kuching, and their only crime was smuggling food in to the prisoners, most of whom were Australians.  They were left to starve and bleed to death over a couple of days.

I didn't have to do that job, because the prisoner asked for a razor to shave before his trial, and committed suicide. I saw three Japanese hanged, and in the feeling of those days, I could have hanged them myself. They were undoubtedly guilty and I had no sympathy for them. It was only much later, and it took the (1956) Olympic Games to do it, because being in charge of training, I had to provide facilities for the various teams including the Japanese.

I went to the secretary-general, Edgar Tanner, and told him I couldn't regard them as people, and I felt I couldn't shake hands with the manager of the Japanese team. He said 'I think you'd better be a hypocrite - I've got more reason to hate them than you - I was a prisoner for three years.' I took his advice and shook hands with the manager, and after a week, I was asking myself: how could anybody hate these lovely boys and girls? Because they were nice kids.

And after the Games, I made up my mind that at the first opportunity, I would return the Samurai sword that I took from a Japanese major that had surrendered to me. I had no right to it, and I smuggled it home as a souvenir, and eventually I did return it. It made all the difference to me because I realised you can't hate anybody you know. I could hate the Japanese during the war because I didn't know any. I'd only seen one, who was the pitcher for the St Kilda baseball club. His name was Takahashi, and I believe Takahashi was the commandant of a prisoner of war camp during the war, at which many Australians were prisoners. I heard rumours that he behaved very well towards the Australians, but he was a remarkable exception. I don't hate anybody now.

Conducted for the Bar Oral History project by Juliette Brodsky in the Neil McPhee Room, Owen Dixon Chambers and filmed by Stewart Carter (People Pictures)