Boardman's car and mine were at the tail of the convoy as we wound along the road towards Kuala Lumpur. Sitting at the wheel that black night, I wondered why we had been instructed to move at that unreasonable hour, after a hard day's work. My eyes soon began to feel the strain, and my ankles were trembling from the constant suspension over the pedals. The road was a solid mass of traffic, some parked by the roadside without lights, others crawling along and stopping with a jerk as an obstruction, possibly a mile ahead, loomed suddenly out of the darkness in front of the leading vehicle. Sometimes a short line of fast-moving ambulances blasted us from the road, and we had to pull in quickly to let them pass. A block would occur as a convoy of lorry-borne troops attempted to get through against the flood of southward-bound traffic, and everything would be chaos as we tried to clear a lane for them. The road was narrow, and winding in places round blind bends. On one length of particularly winding road we were held up so long that we took the chance of a drink and a few biscuits whilst we were awaiting the order to move.

Hour after hour passed by; the water in the radiator was boiling, the smell of oil and rusty steam rose to my dry throat and I fit jaded and weak.

The road between Rasa and Batu Caves was worse than ever. As we approached one village, a figure jumped out into the narrow, dim beam of the lights and yelled: "Put your lights out!" On either side of the road I could see the black shapes of great army lorries, and my overworked eyes strained to find the clear lane some ten feet wide through the total darkness.

At last the road cleared a little and we emerged to find that all but four cars had gone ahead, and we had lost them. We made a little better speed then, until we had passed through Kuala Lumpur, and it was decided to give up the chase and to find some place to rest. One of our party knew the Rest House at Kajang, and we entered the village. The Rest House loomed up on the right-hand side of the road, and the cars ran into the compound and stopped underneath the trees. I recollected nothing more until I awoke at daylight, still in the car. The mosquitoes had bitten me badly, and my mouth was dry and tasted of rust.

Boardman and the others came out of the Rest House and laughed at me. They said I had fallen asleep as soon as the car engine had stopped. They had managed to drag themselves up the steps and had slept on the veranda's long chairs.

The Chinese Boy was taken aback to find us in occupation when he opened the doors, but he hurried into the town to buy food for breakfast.

An amazing, and at times amusing, procession passed before our eyes as we sat on the veranda awaiting the meal. Steam-rollers, tractors, lorries laden with pipes and barrels and furniture, army trucks, omnibuses, men on bicycles, and private cars streamed past the Rest House.

The alert wailed out on the morning air. The traffic stopped and the drivers darted from their vehicles to take cover. What had been a noisy, clanging, hooting, rattling pandemonium became an abyss of silence. Two steam-rollers were stopped in the middle of the road, their nervous Tamil drivers having rushed for the nearest ditch.

After two or three minutes of dead silence I saw the roller drivers emerge cautiously from their hiding-place. They looked around them and up into the sky. A short, excited conversation followed, and suddenly the calm air was broken by the hiss of steam and a great clanging rattle. The bold Tamils had decided to risk it and they were making a dash for it at the rate of four miles an hour.

The word went round that the Japanese had succeeded in landing on the west coast just north of Kuala Lumpur, and once again were threatening to cut off the forces fighting on the Perak border. That explained the order to move on the previous night, and the presence of troops at Batu Caves.

As we were sitting down to breakfast some of our party came in. They, too, had stopped at Kajang for the night. A telephone message had come through from Head Office, Singapore, and we were to proceed to Seremban and then on to Johore.

After filling up with petrol, oil, and water, we formed up in convoy and moved in, this time in daylight, thank God. The run to Seremban was easy and we arrived in time for tea. But we could not stay: we must drive on to Segamat.

Boardman was ahead of me, and his small car was unable to keep pace with the more powerful car in front when the convoy reached a clear length of road. Within an hour we were alone, and we stopped to consider what we should do. After running on a little farther we called in at a small Chinese coffee-house for a refresher and it was dusk before we moved on.

Rain began to fall to add to the difficulties of the darkness, and we were on an unknown route. The cars crawled along, but fortunately the road was dear. Suddenly a voice we knew rang out in summons and we pulled up sharply. It was one of the engineers, who had been posted to catch us as we passed. There was a place here where we could spend the night, and we were to pull in to an estate.

We found that we were just outside Gemas, but a few miles from Segamat. An empty bungalow was at our disposal, and the thought of a comfortable bed was even more exciting than the prospect of a solid meal.

Rain was pouring down as we drew up to the door of the house. We were wet through before we had dispersed the cars and taken out the changes of clothes and other kit. We ate a dinner of tinned stuff, the sight of which was beginning to make us feel sick, and went to bed.

The whole of the house was mosquito-proofed, but the area round the beds themselves was also surrounded by netting on a wooden frame. A cubicle with two doors formed the entrance to this cage of finely meshed wire, and one door had to be closed before opening the second. One would have thought that this double protection would have discouraged even the stoutest insect. But I had been in bed only about two minutes when the attack began. From that moment until the following morning I was pricked and bitten and tortured almost to distraction. The trouble with a mosquito net is that if a mosquito does succeed in obtaining admission it cannot get out and does not get out until it has dropped off the unhappy sleeper - or non-sleeper - having filled itself to over-flowing with good red blood. I felt sure that these mosquitoes wore army boots, were fitted with superchargers, and used bayonets.

I arose - it cannot be said that I awoke, for one never really sleeps during an intensive mosquito raid - and had a very thorough bath, using a great deal of soap to kill the itch of the large red lumps where the insects had feasted. I was feeling very bad-tempered when I went in to breakfast. A good meal would have mollified me, but we ate the remains of the dry, uninteresting stuff we had had the night before.

We left Gemas early and reached Segamat in the middle of the morning. There the cars were refuelled and watered and the convoy went on its way.

My introduction to Johore was very pleasant. The State roads were wide and well kept, and I was reminded of more peaceful days when I saw the coolies cutting the grass by the roadsides, some with scythes - which the Tamil has mastered until he can stroke its razor-like blade along with a wide sweep and cut the grass of a tennis court - some using the older type of knife, a curved affair about a foot long with a three-foot handle, which the grass-cutter swings round in a continuous circle up above his head and down to the ground with a swish and a spray of green slivers.

Boardman and I had allowed the others to push ahead, for there was no need to hurry, and the day was young. We decided to make this part of the run at least as much of a pleasure as possible. We stopped at one very clean, tidy village, and had tea and cakes and slices of fresh pineapple. We also bought some fruit, and continued on our way, leisurely eating the bananas and rambutans as we cruised along.

There was very little traffic, and the Japanese seemed far away. Only occasionally did we pass or give the road to a solitary military vehicle.

One hundred yards from Kulai village the petrol in Boardman's car ran out, and I had to tow him to a pump. A Chinese shopkeeper ran out to take our order, and the trouble started.

We were back in the land of order. Boardman could have no petrol: without coupons.

Since the second week of the war, when rationing and for that matter, public supply of petrol broke down in the north, our cars had been fuelled by military issues. Our unit was given drums of petrol, and we loaded them ourselves on our lorries, to feed the convoy as we came down. For a few carefree days we had had no worries about coupons, licences, insurances, or even bills. Now we were in civilisation again and we must adjust ourselves.

Boardman looked at me in dismay. We had no coupons for Johore.

I argued with the Chinese in charge of the pump. No, he was afraid to break the regulations.

A Malay policeman came up to see what was causing the trouble, and I explained our position to him. He pondered awhile, then instructed the Chinese to give us the petrol. Grumbling and muttering in his native tongue, the man filled up the tank, and only when Boardman paid him did he brighten up and accept the situation.

The delay at Kulai was unfortunate, as we did not reach Johore Bahru until dusk. The District Engineer was about to leave his office, and told us to follow his car.

He led us to the Club. There, lounging against the bar, dressed in white shorts and shirts and tennis shoes, were two men, just back from an evening's tennis. They were P.W.D. engineers.

Yes, we were back in civilisation. Immaculate figures lounged in the rotan chairs, a pleasant buzz of small talk filled the air, boys hurried amongst the tables. Women in flowery frocks sat knitting and reading. "They must have heard of the war, surely," I whispered to Boardman and he laughed. The scene was comic to us, like another world.

I looked around, to find that we were the objects of interest in the room. Suddenly I realised how grubby we must look, our soiled uniforms wet with perspiration, our faces streaked and grimy, hair disarranged. Our shoes had not been cleaned for a week, our cotton clothes had no starch in them.

"What'll you have?" invited one of the tennis players. And so we entered into conversation.

They had heard of our work in the north and of the nine commissions that had been given to our unit. We soon found that the latter was the most interesting news to them, for they had had no commissions given to them, and we learned that a scheme was being put forward to follow our precedent by giving commissions to all P.W.D. engineers.

We were given a meal in the lounge and I raised the question of accommodation.

"That's difficult," said the District Engineer. "There are five people living in my quarters already."

I restrained a desire to laugh; we had been sleeping, four, five, six in a bedroom for weeks, and as many as eighteen in one house.

"We can sleep on the floor, you know," I explained. "In fact, I shall probably he unable to sleep in a bed now."

We went along to the District Engineer's quarters, a palatial house with spacious rooms and neat lawns and flower-beds, standing on the higher ground on the edge of the town. I thought of my garden in Kuala Kangsar, already overgrown before I left; the tomatoes and bringal would be ready for the Japanese to pick, I realised.

The occupants were at a loss as to how we should be accommodated. I observed that the lounge on the first floor would hold two camp beds comfortably, and in a short time the beds were found. We rigged up mosquito-nets across the room and prepared for bed.

"Here, you go and sleep in our bedroom," said one of the men. "You need a decent sleep; two of us will doss down here."

We inspected the bedroom offered; two twin beds lay cool and white beneath mosquito nets. A door was partly opened on the far wall, and, glory be, there was a bath - a 'long bath', as we termed the English type - white and clean, with water laid on. I jerked myself back to reason, for the sight of a proper bathroom was novel after the tubs and dippers we had been glad to use on our journey. I should have liked then and there to fill the bath up with warm, suddy water, and lie for hours with eyes closed, letting my salty, sticky skin soften and my thoughts glide far away in the luxury of that bath.

I suddenly felt tired.

"You'd better have a drink before bed," suggested Morgan; and I thought perhaps that was a good idea

As we sat in the luxurious lounge, with the wireless giving the news, I forgot that the enemy were up the road, and started to think of everyday things. I must have my car cleaned, look to my batteries. I hadn't drawn my December salary. I must find a dhobi to wash my clothes. I ought to write home. Wonder what she's doing now? Let me see, is Greenwich in front or behind Malayan time? Wish I could get at my carpet slippers; must cash a cheque tomorrow . . .

"Hey! Don't fall asleep here!"

I rose, and Morgan smiled.

"Come on, Boardman, old man," I murmured; "no mosquitoes to-night."