Early Morning 11 December 1941
It had been three days since Aman arrived here. His father wasn't here of that, he was certain.
Aman had spent his time helping around the camp as a laborer, setting up tents and defenses. At least the British were feeding him in return.
But tonight, he couldn't sleep. His head was heavy with thoughts. He wanted to go to Singapore, but the officers had denied him.
And soon, everything descended into chaos.
"Sir! Changloon is under attack!"
That was how the Battle of Jitra began.
Aman, just a 14 year-old boy, was yanked out of his tent amidst the growing commotion. All around him, it was becoming a mess.
His ears rang deaf to everything. His senses were overwhelmed.
"Hey... hey... HEY!"
Finally, Aman snapped back to reality. The same British officer stood before him, calm as ever.
"I don't know how those Japs managed to push through the thick rubber plantations. It should've been a natural defense," the officer muttered. "Anyway, you should get a ride on one of those trucks. What were their names again? Nini and Nana, right? Get to them. Singapore should be safe."
The officer watched as Aman turned toward the truck. Aman paused. Who even was he here? He wasn't a soldier. Just a boy. He wasn't meant to fight never wanted to.
But his blood boiled. He remembered the Japanese soldier from before. The rage simmered inside him. He wanted to kill.
The officer muttered to himself, watching Aman walk away.
"Tch. Fuckin' brat. Should've told him to leave earlier instead of using him for labor... Then again, heard those Japs aren't targeting the Malays too much. Trying to gain local support, maybe."
Aman got close to the truck.
Then an explosion.
The sky roared. A Japanese bomber had struck. The plane screamed overhead. Aman was flung back by the blast, but somehow he suffered no major injuries.
He blinked, stunned, staring at the wreckage and burning metal. The officer didn't run to help. He simply turned and spoke to his men.
"Request permission from General Murray-Lyon to retreat."
One of the Indian soldiers spoke up, "Sir, the General believes the terrain should give us the advantage. He has denied the retreat. The rain is expected today it may slow down the Japs. Their motorized units can't move in the mud."
The officer looked up, expression grim. "Then we force the central defense. Hold this line. At any cost."
---
Aman was patched up by a nurse his earlier wounds reopened by the blast.
The fighting raged on. British and Indian troops clashed with the Japanese advance.
"You poor thing…" the nurse said gently. "I heard your story from the Lieutenant… your mo... maybe I should stop." She caught herself. It didn't feel right to bring it up now.
Aman looked at her. She didn't look foreign. She looked Chinese.
"Ah, you're Chinese? Chink? Why're you helping these troops?"
The nurse scratched her head and sighed. "Chink, huh? I get called that a lot already. I worked at a local clinic. When the war broke out, they were desperate anyone who could help was pulled in. So, here I am. They promised my daughter safety. Said they'd send her to Singapore today…"
Aman stared. "Your daughter? So you're splitting up you're here and she's going away? Where's your husband?"
"Today, yes… they were supposed to send her, but with the truck explosion, they've delayed it. She's in a bunker with other kids now." She paused. "As for my husband well, I'm not married. I wasn't born here either. Back in China, I worked in a brothel. I had my daughter there. When things got too brutal with the warlords, I used what I had left to escape here. Became a nurse. Thought we'd find a better life. Funny, right?"
Aman said nothing. He let her patch him up in silence. Before long, he too was moved to the same bunker.
---
Meanwhile, at the front
"Ah, shit…"
A British soldier looked through his binoculars. Mechanized units. The rain was supposed to stop them but they were wrong.
They'd been wrong about everything.
They had expected a sea invasion. Instead, the Japanese had entered Malaya through Thailand and now Jitra was next.
The officer who had spoken to Aman received the report and slammed his fist onto the table.
"We're going to get surrounded. They're going for the kill… And General Murray still refuses to retreat."
Another soldier added, "He says we'll hold. Says the terrain is in our favor. But there's no plan for this kind of land assault."
The Japanese came from every direction south, west, east encircling Jitra.
It rained hard. And they used it. The dense vegetation and pouring water masked their movement. They were like ghosts in the dark.
That night, under heavy rain, the Japanese launched a coordinated assault. Darkness, poor visibility, and confusion overwhelmed the defenders. Japanese troops infiltrated flanks with ease, using local guides and help from sympathizers to maneuver around British lines.
Some Indian units fought blindly unsure where the enemy was, or even where their own lines had fallen.
Communication broke down. Rumors spread of enemy tanks behind them, of entire battalions wiped out.
Though some units stood their ground bravely, the situation was collapsing.
By dawn, 12 December, it was clear: the Jitra Line had fallen.
All was hell.
The retreat was finally ordered. But for many, it was too late. It turned into a slaughter.
Japanese forces specifically targeted British officers and Chinese civilians. Families were dragged from homes. British troops stayed behind, holding the line to buy time for the rest to escape.