Hellfire Pass

It is hard to put into words this experience. We drove for about two hours to reach our destination. From within the confines of our car the scenery was gorgeous. On arrival it was a stifling 41 degrees however in the shade of the beautifully manicured grounds of the Hellfire Pass Interpretive Centre they were doing everything they could to shroud it. 

There is a simple but affective museum and display leading to gorgeously constructed pathways that take you to a place that once witnessed immense pain and suffering. There is an excellent audio guide and the staff at the centre are softly spoken, kind and polite as they gently immerse you in one of the true horrors of World War Two.

Upon descending some tastefully crafted hardwood walkways and stairs you are, without really knowing it, on the old rail line. The tracks and sleepers have long been removed. A bed of newly laid rock forms your path and then subtly the tragedy of the place emerges. Next to a bench that lets you take in the view are some of the original spikes that held the railway line to the sleepers. You move a little further along and a cutting appears, more construction paraphernalia is present. You look up and the top of the cutting is 23 meters above you, you forward and you look back and it is 75 meters long. On your right is an old drill bit that broke off as they tried to make a hole big enough to drop a stick of dynamite in to blow apart the granite. It is still embedded in the rock.

You reach then end of the cutting. It is just a minuscule part of the 415 kilometres of railway that was ultimately laid. There is a understated memorial, they are getting ready for Anzac Day. You are covered in sweat for your 30 minutes of exertion. The men who worked on its construction endured 17 months of this, through the wet and dry seasons, with just about nothing to take away the misery. There was never enough food, poor access to clean water, no medical supplies, no clothes (the ones they arrived in rotted in the tropics and they worked in makeshift loin cloths often without boots), no tools and no basic sanitation. The lives lost ran into the tens of thousands with 12,000 plus among the POW’s and perhaps more than ten times that by the forced labourers known as the Romusha.

It is frightening to see what man can inflict on his fellow man. It is a lesson I trust the entire world will learn and may it never be repeated again.