Hidden deep in the jungles of Occupied Malaya, the Guerrillas were laying in wait. But, in order to introduce them properly, we need to back up a few years…

In 1931, after the Japanese had invaded Manchuria, they began eyeing the territory to the West: Russian-occupied Mongolia. This led to a series of skirmishes along the border, which ran through the rest of the 1930s. These conflicts culminated in a decisive Russian victory at Khalkhin Gol in September of 1939 — coinciding almost exactly with the German-Soviet Non-Aggression pact, and the German invasion of Poland which began the European Theater.

With both Russia and Japan looking ahead (respectively) to the eventuality of the Eastern and Pacific Theaters — they ceased fighting and negotiated a neutrality pact, which was signed in 1941 and remained unbroken until the final week of WWII. But in the intervening time, both countries worked behind the scenes to undermine one another.

Moscow contacted Communist groups throughout Southeast Asia, and ordered them to assist the Allies in any way possible against the Japanese. The Malayan Communist Party [MCP]⁵ (most of whom were ethnically Chinese) had reached out, and contacted the British.

Initially, the British had debated weather or not to work with the MCP — who were expressly anti-colonial, and some of whom were in prison for dissidence — as it seemed likely that any armaments or training provided to them would be redirected at the British in a bid for independence once the war was over.

But in a case of necessity making for strange bedfellows, as the British naval defenses collapsed and the invasion of Malaya became imminent, the SOE finally got the go-ahead from high command. They sprung the MCP members from jail, provided them — about 165 in total — with basic espionage training and armaments, and hurriedly dropped them into the Malayan jungles just ahead of the advancing Japanese line.

Since losing contact with the British, the guerrilla cells throughout the peninsula had located one another, formed their own communication networks, and organized a command hierarchy. They received a modest influx of volunteers from the surrounding areas, and began to mount operations.

Their small-scale strikes and raids against the better-armed and highly experienced Japanese in early 1942 often ended in failure. Eventually, in order to preserve what few men and arms they had, the guerrillas were forced to return to hiding, and a life of harsh subsistence in the jungle. Towards 1943, the groups had re-stabilized, and began to radicalize as increasingly political leadership came to the fore.

They maintained relations with nearby villages with lighter Japanese oversight, and connected with resistance sympathizers to cover necessities. But as time wore on, critical supplies like medicine and ammunition were becoming scarce.

Clandestine Operations

In May of 1943 — while Lim stayed behind in Ceylon to relay information and directions by radio — the first party of 5 men under Capt. Davis left for Malaya, traveling by Dutch submarine. They arrived off the North coast of Pankor Island, landing under cover of night in foldboats, near Lumut. They rendezvoused with soldiers from resistance forces and established a basecamp in the jungles around Sitiawan. The operation was codenamed “Gustavus I.”

Over 50 Dragons eventually landed in Malaya, by submarine or parachute. They dispersed into the surrounding areas, establishing contact with the guerrillas and infiltrating cities to collect intelligence, sometimes using legitimate businesses as covers. Secret messages were relayed via shipments driven through jungle roads; hidden in hollow tubes of toothpaste, cigarette packets, and salted fish to elude searches at Japanese checkpoints.

But over the next several months, the guerrillas refrained from forming any further plans with the British-led groups. After watching the British strategy fail so completely during the Japanese invasion, they were now skeptical of the Allies’ ability to retake Malaya.

In November, six months after the arrival of the first team, Lim traveled by submarine from Kandy to the coast of Perak, to receive an in-person report from Capt. Broome. But the Japanese had begun to strengthen patrols along their route from the jungle to the shore — and Broome (an Englishman) would be obviously suspicious if spotted.

They decided to send the MCP’s State Secretary Chin Peng to make the rendezvous instead. He made his way past the Japanese patrols, and traveled by junk to meet the submarine.

Below deck, Lim and Chin met to discuss plans. And at this point, Lim makes a pivotal decision: he is supposed to return to Ceylon and continue coordinating operations via radio — but Goodfellow has given him the authority to alter his orders as he sees fit.

Instead of returning, he disembarked — and after several days’ travel with Chin, arrives at Force 136’s new basecamp, in the jungles to the East of Ipoh.

The Ipoh Network

As the Allies made progress in early 1944, the MCP guerrillas were now severely under-supplied, and begrudgingly began to formally cooperate with Force 136 in exchange for badly needed arms, ammunition, and financing.

The negotiations were conducted in Mandarin, with Lim translating for the British. They reach an agreement whereby the MCP will “help the Allied Command to defeat the Japanese and also… assist during the period of Allied military reoccupation afterword,” in exchange for supplies.

Lim did his best to acclimate to the hurry-up-and-wait pacing of life at the hideout, filling the downtime by taking over the cooking duties with his characteristic intensity and zeal. But he soon became frustrated with merely relaying information and directing operations from the basecamp, and he decided to take the risk of embedding himself in the nearby city of Ipoh to work with the agents directly.

This decision was fiercely debated among the commanders, who were concerned about his high risk of being identified — he had done business in this area of Malaya many times before, and had a memorable disposition. But Lim eventually won out, citing the delays caused by the circuitous methods of communication with the Ipoh agents, and the advantages of having someone on-site with the authority to issue immediate decisions.

The intelligence network in Ipoh was anchored by the work of agent Ah Ng, who was running a market by the name of Jian Yik Jan, using the assumed identity of the nephew of a wealthy Chinese tapper [rubber plantation owner]. Japanese soldiers would often stop into the store, and information could be gleaned from unguarded conversations.

Lim assumed the guise of Ah Ng’s wealthy uncle, under the alias Lim Tan Choon. The first order of business was acquiring the funds promised to the MCP guerrillas. For this, he sent Ah Ng to Singapore, to meet with agents there who could supply enough currency to cover their needs — a risky assignment which required passing through the “Hell Gate” between Malaysia and Singapore, where random searches and arrests by the Japanese were frequent.

But unbeknownst to the commanders at the basecamp, relationships between the agents and their various cover businesses had begun to intertwine in dangerous ways.

Force 136 was responsible for maintaining a few small junks for submarine rendezvous, a task which they entrusted to a local shopkeeper named Chua Koon Ying, who had no military experience or espionage training. Chua had become acquainted with many of the Dragons as they circulated in and out of his shop.

By the time Lim arrived in Ipoh in March, the Japanese had already begun to put the pieces together: sightings of an allied submarine, reports of unusual nighttime boat trips, and intercepted messages. On May 23rd, the Kempeitai ran a sweep of local fishermen, who they suspected might be assisting the resistance.

They brought in Chua for questioning — and the noose began to tighten.

Acting on Chua’s information, the Kempeitai found and arrested the Force 136 agents one by one. On March 26th, an agent warned Lim that the arrests aretaking place — but he decided to risk staying in Ipoh for one more day, in hopes of making contact with Ah Ng, who should be returning from Singapore with the funds for the guerillas.

But Ah Ng never returned to Ipoh. He was arrested in Kuala Lumpur that same day, and by the dawn of the 27th, the Kempeitai had located Lim. He was arrested and taken to their acting headquarters, the Ipoh police station.

At this point, Lim had information on the location, sizes, and armaments of the Malayan resistance groups, as well as a broad overview of the British intelligence operations in the area. This information could lead to the discovery and death of resistance fighters, undercover agents still in the field, and the destruction of crucial transport materiel and equipment.

It was here that Lim’s final test of will began. But after days of brutal torture and interrogation, he told the Kempeitai nothing.

Batu Gajah

Eventually, the captured Force 136 agents were transferred to Ipoh’s Batu Gajah prison. Here, prisoners were kept in tiny cells, with only one barred window, less than a foot square, at the top of the wall. The cells contained only a bed of wood planks and a bucket. They were given only a few pieces of rotting sweet potato to eat every day.

The prisoners begin to loose weight, begin to starve. They were given only a few minutes outside each day, to quickly wash and empty their buckets. They became sick, and desperate.

Even in these dark moments, Lim’s thoughts were for his men. When the Kempeitai left them in the care of the more lenient prison guards, he gives up his meager rations in a hunger strike to protest the prisoners’ conditions, and asks the guards to distribute his food to the others.

The Kempeitai periodically returned to torture and interrogate the agents, hoping the weight of their imprisonment will overcome their endurance.

The living conditions were terrible. In a few weeks, the agents were suffering from dysentery — they were given no medical treatment. By the end of May, Lim was completely bedridden.

Seeing his condition continue to decline, the guards wrapped him in a blanket, and moved him to an open cell outside of the main prison. He was given no food, water, or medicine; he was simply left to die. Late into the night of June 29, 1944, Lim Bo Seng succumbed. He was 35 years old.

To the very end, he did not break.

The Kempeitai returned to the prison, and in the wake of Lim’s death there was a change in procedure. Their commander was upset by losing a man with such valuable information, and — if only for a short time — the Agents are given medical attention and small baskets of proper food.

In Mourning

By the end of 1944, the tide of the war was firmly against the Japanese. The Allies had planned for the liberation of Malaya and Singapore in September of 1945… but this was superseded by the use of the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki; creating an horrific inflection point in history, and leading to Japan’s unconditional surrender on August 15th.

In keeping with Emperor Hirohito’s wishes, the commander of occupied Singapore, General Itagaki, formally signed the surrender documents, and turned the island over to the Allies on September 12th at City Hall.

Choo Neo and the Lim children survived the war. She had kept the family safe by remaining hidden on St. John’s Island through the worst of the Sook Ching killings. As the years of war passed, the occupying soldiers became more lax, and many were diverted to other areas in the region. Eventually, the family was able to safely return to their home — which had been used as a Japanese barracks for a time.

She was informed of her husband’s death by a priest from the St. Andrews School. In December, she traveled to Batu Gajah with their oldest son, Leong Geok, to reclaim Bo Seng’s remains from an unmarked grave behind the prison, and returned them to Singapore.

On January 13th, 1946, he was given a funeral at City Hall. The Straits Times reported that members from every Chinese guild and union arrived to pay their respects, and “By the time the hearse carrying the casket arrived there were thousands in front of the Municipal Building steps.” He was eulogized by Col. Chuang, Brigadier P. A. B. McKerron, and Col. Broome (who gave his eulogy in Chinese).

Lieutenants of Force 136 and Lim’s oldest son bore the casket, which was draped with the Chinese flag. He was buried with full military honors, and posthumously conferred the rank of Major General.

Originally, this grave was marked with a simple cross. Bo Seng had converted to Christianity in order to marry Choo Neo, but refrained from attending services out of respect for his ancestors, who were Taoists. The current granite memorial was installed in 1952, and the foundation stone of the Esplanade memorial was laid on November 3rd, 1953.