Adriaan Westermann – from his diary - Coal Mine Slave Labor Account
Originally posted in the Dutch language, it is translated here.
Oorspronkelijk gepost in de Nederlandse taal, wordt het hier vertaald.
For our Dutch friends, the original account is posted here: https://javapost.nl/2013/04/26/de-long-wall/
Voor onze Nederlandse vrienden wordt het originele account hier geplaatst: https://javapost.nl/2013/04/26/de-long-wall/

The following story is one of the chapters from the personal, never before published, diary of Adriaan Westermann. The writer was part of a group of approximately 350 to 400 Dutch prisoners of war who worked in Omuta during the last year of the war. The total camp population consisted of around 1700 prisoners. Most Americans, and furthermore British and Australians.
Prisoner of war Adriaan Westermann (1904 - 1971) spent 14 months in camp Fukuoka 17, Omuta, Japan. The diary that he keeps provides insight into the work in the mine and teaches us the Japanese jargon of coal mining.
Part One
It is the end of August 1945 and we live in peace again. Between June 1944, the month of our arrival in Japan, and now there are fourteen months of slavery, months that were dominated by the "long wall".
We sat in the large room above the mine in Omuta and received instruction. The room had a stage. A small cupboard hung on one of the side walls, modeled as a beautifully decorated house, with the red glow of a few electric bulbs in it. The Mijngod lived in the house, for whom we had to take the cap and bow. It may also be that the Mine God lived in a mans-stone house beyond the exercise site of the mine and that this little wooden house in our classroom was a copy. Whatever the case, the Japanese had a special respect for this god. He protects them or destroys them under falling rocks and coal seams. Because of his actions, they either go home unharmed after work, or they are carried up maimed or dead. The same applies to prisoners of war. We also took the hat before and after the mining for the My God, and boast the cried out command “Tajikoo!”

In those first days of June 1944 it was not that far yet. We were above ground in the mine room and on stage our "three-striker," a Japanese engineer, gave instructions. Beside him stood the interpreter Jamauchi, who translated Japanese into English. Our ensign then translated that into Dutch. We had to repeat the Japanese words in unison and try to remember them. The three-striker drew on a blackboard and told about the work in the mine.

It was a pretty easy-going thing. We had the impression that we would be treated again as a human being. We sat on benches and not on the floor. We had eaten enough and were housed fairly well; we had even received new clothes. It was something of an interesting excursion in which the company was explained by a benevolent expert. The three-striker drew cheerful and smiling, and the interpreter repeated with a friendly smile. Apart from the oddity of working in a mine, we were expecting something from this new life. The entire circumference was gray and gray with coal, but still, it seemed like something of a reasonable existence.

The instruction

Under these circumstances we were introduced to the first long wall, sketched with chalk on a black board. Coals are formed in layers of 1.5 meters to 4 meters thick, between layers of slate or sandstone. If you hit a coal seam with a main aisle, which is laid down in a slope, you could simply continue to mine the coal, but this is not the most practical method. It is better to make a crossway at the place where the coal starts. One then digs a corridor in the longitudinal direction along the beginning of the layer. This transverse corridor is propped with beams (kobokoes), just as almost every corridor should be propped in a mine. This system of two upright beams, with a top beam against the ceiling, is called a wakuhari.
The wakoeharis are placed in the corridor every 1, 2 or 3 meters and are 3 to 5 meters wide. An iron gutter, the transformer, is laid in the transverse passage thus obtained and a chain with protrusions runs therein. The protrusions drag the coals thrown in. The chain is an endless chain, is propelled by a motor and the receding part runs on top, over transverse beams nailed in the wakuhari. Such thinner bars are called naroegis.
Drilling takes place in the coal wall, ie in the longitudinal direction of the layer, and thus outside the wakoeharis, after which the wall is made to jump with dynamite patterns. If the coal is not too hard, it is also possible to work the coal with the pickaxe (the surabashji). With the wall leaping, the coal immediately falls into the gutter or must be scooped into it. The latter is done with flat spades (skob or skoberoe). The colony life is called saitan, and when it is done in the manner described above, it is called long wall extraction in English. The long wall can be 50 meters long; because of gutter and drive, this is probably an economic length.
Driestreper sketched all this on the blackboard and accentuated the Japanese professional terms with his thick protruding lips. It gave him a pronounced ape-like appearance, so that from now on we were referred to by us as "Monkey".

The iwamaki   
So the saitan team digs the coal away; this can be done over a width of 1.5 meters, after which the wakuhari is expanded with one upright kobokoe (asi) and one ceiling support (hari). The next team is working on the "long wall preparation." This means, with the subsequent drilling team, preparing the long wall for the next extraction. The engine and gutter must be moved towards the coal wall, the kikai does that. And then at the place where the gutter has been located, at regular distances of for example 6 meters, five iwamakis of for example 4 meters long have to be built to support the ceiling. An average iwamaki is large: 4 meters long, 1.5 meters wide and 2.5 meters high (15 cubic meters) and is made by 8 people.
An iwamaki is started with the stacking of heavy stones along the edge. The interior is filled with the still scattered coals and gravel. The outside is now assembled with in turn one heavy kobokoe (bar) on the front, and then two heavy, but shorter, kobokoes for the sides of the iwamaki. Between the kobokoes, the iwamaki is sealed with smaller stones and in the meantime scooped with gravel and coal until the ceiling is reached. The highest beams are fixed to the ceiling with stones (botas).
When the first iwamakis are placed in a long wall, the back rests against the layer of coal or coal and has its own front wall of beams and stones. The iwamakis, which are then built daily with the repositioning of the gutter, rest with their backs against the front of the iwamaki's of the previous day. The long wall extraction is therefore, in the case mentioned above, always followed by five walls of a width of 4 meters that support the ceiling. These walls are thereby expanded approximately 1.5 meters every day.
To obtain the stones for iwamaki building, drilling is done every day in the ceilings between the iwamaki´s; dynamite patterns are placed in the holes and on the sign “Maito!” each disappears in the main corridor and the ceiling (tenjo) is let jump over a thickness of 0.5 to 1 meter.
There are all kinds of variations in iwamaki construction; depending on the amount of material available, a lot of wood, grit, stones or coal is used. Using coal is of course not very economical, but it builds quickly because the coal is so much lighter than bricks.
The latter was therefore not told by Aapje; three-lashes only know iwamakis that are full of "stones." Two-lashes (sjoteitjos) and single-lashes (buntaitjos) know that coal is often used; workmen and prisoners of war make as many "air holes" in the iwamakis as possible and use as much coal as possible to be able to finish work quickly.
This is the practice of the iwamaki construction, which we were not yet familiar with when we sat quietly in June 1944 listening to the monkey's explanation. I don't know exactly how our feelings were at that moment. In general a prisoner of war from Nippon has a fairly simple feeling and thinking life. The past is never last month or last Sunday, but always "freedom in the past." The future is never next week, but always "freedom in the future." The present is "the next bite." These are the big ones lines of his thinking. I doubt whether we thought about the monkey's lesson for a long time. The word iwamaki and long wall meant nothing to us at that time. We left the room and started with the brought pot of rice with pickles.
Our first experiences in the mine
And how did our section in the mine fare? We were first employed for some time as a day shift to get used to mining life. We built iwamakis here and there, put wakuhari, worked on the railroad tracks and explained electrical lines.
Our section was then assigned to the long wall preparation and went along in shifts. The first day shift from 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. the second shift from 2 pm to 10 pm; the third or night shift from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. Change every ten days after the jasmé (day off).
And we experienced the long wall in all its forms. In the sankata of the honso: the honso is the lowest floor and sankato means the third course of the main course of this honso. From the last station, where the train stops, we have to go down. The honso has a lot of water, on the way to work we already get wet and have to pee through the water.
Some prisoners of war get shovels and pickaxes from the mihari (warehouses – phot left). Most of them are already taking a beam from the logging site, and a few others are already running downstairs to collect for the iwamaki the loose wood that has been left at the long wall by the saitan or wakuhari teams. This saves walking and lugging out of the woodpiling area a few times.
We start to live like machines: so much fuel gives so much energy, and when the machine is overloaded, it wears out excessively. In the beginning that was not so noticeable. The amount of rice was quite large and mixed with some beans; there was also some fish, meat and vegetables involved. Later it became different.
When a preparation team comes in, the saitan, the actual life of the coal, is usually still going on. Each of us then sinks on his shovel or beam and starts to eat or sleep. Mijnlucht makes someone sleepy; there is usually a pleasant temperature at the start of a corridor, just so warm that one can walk around naked. Almost everyone who works in a Japanese mine, except for a loincloth, walks "naked." The mine lamp is on the mine cap and the battery hangs on a rubber belt. We are wearing rubber shoes and black leg wraps. This leg and foot cover does not protect at all. A stone from the ceiling or from the iwamaki scrapes and scratches our bodies and shatters the feet completely or partially.
 Of a 50-person section, usually 2 or 3 people are at home with injured feet. The chain runs through the transformer with screeching violence; it is difficult to understand each other, but sleep goes well. We are away from camp for 12 or 13 hours every day, and the preparation team snores quietly until the engine stops.
 Dozens of jet-black guys, Americans and Japanese pass us by. The coal shovels over the shoulder, sweating, black as soot, sometimes swearing and thriving and bleeding from wounds, they pass us by. Our time has come. The iwamakis must go.
"Maito!"
Upon arrival it is now "completely silent"; here and there a strut crunches. Suddenly a stone falls or a part of a coal wall collapses. We carefully scour the inside and look at the situation: whether the iwamakis will become high or perhaps extra wide, whether there are many stones, whether there are coal, and how much wood will be needed. We lift the chain and dismantle it into pieces. Lift the adapted parts of the gutter and wring them between the posts to the side of the coal wall. Now the place is free for the iwamaki.
Our most energetic men dig hard in the grit and coal to get a good foundation for the foundation stones. Others roll large stones and still others go and get the wood for further construction. Often this goes through long and narrow corridors. If the situation is such that the iwamaki can be delivered on time, so in about six hours, then everyone will try to cooperate to achieve that. But if the iwamaki is impossible to grow, then soon divisions arise. The strongest men move on, the weak see the hopelessness of it and save power for chasing the Japanese overmen at the end of the shift. Because many of those overmen are your purest dogs. We had one that always hit the mark, scolded and made a big noise, and who wanted to do everything faster than was possible.

Because the space for the iwamakis is impossibly small. The kikai is moving the motor and laying the gutter and chain. Here and there, the wakuharip team provides additional support for the ceiling. The Japanese shout and do excessively well. When Tweestreper comes to watch, the boat is completely on. Kick, shout, buzz. It is excreted to pick up the coal layer with clandestinely. We swear, build and lug around. The iwamaki grows and then gradually the dynamite is in the boreholes of the ceilings. Our maitosan (Mijneer Dynamiet) announces this by constantly screaming "Maito!" We throw the tools on the half-high iwamaki and disappear. We immediately fall asleep in the main corridor; a few eat, most have already finished their meals.

Dull blows through the mine, it looks like anti-aircraft, and then silence and a thick white dynamite fog with a sharp odor passes us. The buntaitjos go inside to record how the ceiling has jumped. Usually large blocks come down, lots of grit. The beams of former wakuhari's protrude through it. It makes a disorderly impression.
 Then we come. Finish the iwamakis with the newly obtained material. How often have we doubted whether that thing could be finished? They were kicked with heavy arms; the kobokoes (beams) came in with nodding knees. Exhausted.
Danger
There was always a lot of danger, especially in our second place, Ichkata. In the beginning the ceiling seemed nice, hard and even, and the long wall was dry. But people had to bend 20 to 30 meters long through a very hot corridor, so crawl to get in. And then with the posts with us. We just dragged, joyless.
Later the ceiling became worse, water in many places, and then it goes, we now know it so well, also worse with the long wall.
Everywhere large chunks of stone begin to fall from the ceilings. They try to overcome this by putting narcissism above the wakuharis. And then all those loose boulders hang on the wood. It becomes unsafe; the stone is often no longer a stone, it is porridge, a kind of cementitious mixture.
Suddenly something collapses. Someone is being carried out. Who is it? What? Scrape on head and shoulders? Slippery!
People "shuffle" or "tap" him. And a person from above doesn't have too much surface, so luckily slippers are more than ticks. People shuffle even harder if it is a minor injury. That means hospital admission or quarter-sick and "with a slip", so continued payment (10 cents per day), and cigarettes and not work. No more twelve hours away from the camp, no more being chased by those damned Japanese, no more tired of that mine. On the other hand, less rice and no mine rolls. So there are advantages and disadvantages, but the disadvantages did weigh the most.
The extraction of the long wall in the Ichkata also came to an end. We now went to the Rokoekata. First on the bottom; there was a long wall that collapsed quite often. Hammond came under a collapsing ceiling. We heard the support creak here and there and stayed a bit away from our iwamaki, but Hammond, next to us, continued to work. He was brought home on a bar and had to stay in the hospital for months. He is still limping now.

Cold
This long wall became too bad. We started exploiting the long wall above. This was closer to the mihari (warehouse). It was now February 1945, the middle of winter in Japan. Everything was cold and remained cold. We ate in bed under the covers. We did everything with the winter coat on and the collar on, as much as possible, but when passing the guard it has to come down quickly.
The Japanese soldiers are and remain childlike in their performance. One should not tie a cloth around his ears, have a cloth around his neck, put on a collar, wear gloves, and do not put his hands in the pockets. All this is unworthy of a soldier, even if it is a prisoner of war. But we are no longer soldiers, only weary, slumped, numb and emaciated wretches, who walk in the rut or get pneumonia and edema, and may only be admitted to the hospital, often when it is too late.
Our section brings it to a mine of just 20 (out of 50). Ten in the hospital, of which 2 with a minor injury, and 8 pneumonia or edema, 10 quarters sick and 10 light duty. The twelfth section is damé-damé, it is given the name of a tamper section. Yet that is not the case. The work is too heavy. Our two-striker, a man with excellent jaws, big owl glasses and skinny legs, demands a lot from us. He then just sits at work and makes the buntaitjos hunted and hurried. It sometimes happens that we are so late that we have to walk up from the honso (600 meters deep) or can just go up with the empty koboo train. "Upstairs" it is rushing again with bathing and with the second bunch to the camp. Kaakmans had a good side. He struck little and not hard, a miraculous quality for a Japanese. But when it came to staging the work, he was always a grave head.
Rol (Johannes Rol - JP) came under the stones. That happened to a small team working in the gokata. They worked there under the creaking waku, they warned, but the buntaitjo wanted to hurry. Shortly thereafter 10 wakoeharis, with ceiling and all, came down. Rol was under it, the others heard him calling, answering, and began clearing the stones. After an hour they were with him. He was sitting in a small box between the wood and the stones, unharmed, but here and there a little battered.
During this period, someone else became nervous again. He was just staring at the ceiling and could no longer talk. Together with Rol, he entered the hospital; later they were designated for kogai, that is, the work above ground.
Someone who gets such a nerve tick from the mine always looks up. In the middle of the shining sunshine he discovers cracks in the ceiling and then crawls underneath, then reappears, re-examines his imaginary ceiling, and then sees stones fall. After a few days it will pass. The victim returns to normal and starts talking.
It stays cold. The only warm spots are in the mine and under the covers. We go into the mine with all our clothes on, and sleep at home with almost everything on. Everything is dirty, sooty and blackish, and day-in-day-out the long wall moves, and the iwamakis extend beyond it.

Nervousness  
It is April 1945. Our section now goes to the Dai-rokoe (the second layer from above). There is a long wall near the mihari and that is where the accident with Worms happens. They work in the stones on the side of an iwamaki and there the big block of stone comes down. Unexpected. Suddenly. It happened with one blow. Worms still extends the arms and dies with the body under the stone.  (See Wouter Worm’s Biography Page)
Then the long wall two corridors further to the left. When it became too dangerous there, we had to stop there too. Then to the Nikita on the right. The work could be done there, the iwamakis arrived on time. With the summer, our section goes back to the mine in greater numbers. Sometimes more than thirty people.
It will be July and beautiful summer weather. The war is getting closer, there are some bombings and we often have to go into the shelter.
 The Japanese are intolerable. The Dairokoe two-striker hits hard and mean, just like his student two-striker "the Chick". The kid doesn't know what to do with his attitude. Is friendly again, then falls asleep again, and starts off for nothing.
 The maito king is crazier than ever; hitting someone's head with a drill is normal. He screams and shouts and beats the borers for nonsensical reasons: there is no air pressure, or a jackhammer is broken. The kikai guys jump like monkeys and scream and hit. De Slang, an extremely mean individual, hits with his stick, also before and after work. The wakuhari man has the military tick, puts people in the position and then fights for it.
 It is getting worse and worse. It is a hunt with the iwamakis to get as few hits as possible. The long wall moves further and further and becomes wetter and wetter again. It is no longer fresh there; watch out for falling rocks and coal walls that come down.

"They are not!"
12 August 1945: a day like all the others. The iwamaki construction is going fast.
There is speed, there are heaps of stones and the coal wall is crumbling easily. It is wet, water drips everywhere. They are still drilling and the maito has not been yet. Then it starts to crack at the second iwamaki. A prop collapses. We work hurriedly and always look up at the ceiling. Heavy cracks are in it. A few wakoes have a hard time. The struts will bend. And then the many years of Japanese mining experience comes to mind: “Get out! Get out! Tenjo damé, hajakoe, hajakoe !!!! ”
The prisoners of war run outside, stumbling and jumping over beams, grit and coals, towards the engine and the main corridor. They all sit down there, and, as is custom, many immediately fall asleep. 
Two minutes later the entire long wall collapses, from front to back. The entire length of the ceiling comes down in huge blocks, crushing everything: tools, clothes, bentos (food boxes), the trafoe and the wakoes. A heavy air pressure blows into the corridor. It is such a storm that the gang of men is drifting on, trampling each other and running to an even safer place. But, luckily, nobody is seriously injured, and our section is shrinking again.
We've only had one fatal accident, some or so serious, and a countless number of minor ones. It is August 12 and the entire long wall collapses and we survive it! Are we grateful for it? Barely. We are Nippon slaves, our lives no longer count. It is as if the decision about life and death is going on outside of us and whether the Long Wall will exist forever. We are even thinking of a second winter in the mine.
Three days later we are free. The Long Wall has been done for us.

Prisoner of war registration cards of Adriaan Westermann.