The National Malaya & Borneo Veterans Association

The Mayor of Lisburn, Alderman Paul Porter, lays a wreath at the foot of the Pantridge Memorial Statue during a recent ceremony in memory of 
Major Frank Pantridge.

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Lisburn City Council recently held its annual wreath laying ceremony in memory of one of its Freemen, the late Major Frank Pantridge.
Members of the Council, the Pantridge Trust and the National Malaya and Borneo Veterans Association (NMBVA) attended the ceremony at the Pantridge Memorial Statue at Lagan Valley Island.

The Mayor, Alderman Paul Porter, said: “On behalf of the Council, I am proud to officiate this ceremony in memory of Major Frank Pantridge and to remember all the brave heroes who served alongside him in Singapore.

“Major Pantridge served in Singapore as a Regimental Medical Officer with the Gordon Highlanders and was awarded a Military Cross in 1942 for bravery while fighting the Japanese in Malaya during World War II. He survived his time in Japanese labour camps including the Siam-Burma railway and returned home to Hillsborough, never forgetting those brave soldiers he left behind.”

On his return to Northern Ireland Mr Pantridge continued his work to improve the lives of others. His wish was granted when as a Professor he became the world-renowned pioneer of the portable defibrillator, which is now routinely used on a daily basis worldwide. He was awarded the CBE in 1979 for his work in cardiology.

The Mayor added: “Over recent years the Council has been very privileged to work with the NMBVA and the Pantridge Trust to remember those injured in action who Major Pantridge helped, those who died and the survivors of this regiment.”

Source: Ulster Star

Both NMBVA Branches wish to thank the following for facilitating and supporting this event:

• Lisburn City Council and staff
• The Pantridge Trust
• Commanding Officer 40 Regiment Royal Artillery (The Lowland Gunners)
• Commanding Officer Lisburn Detachment The Army Cadet Force (ACF)
• Officer Commanding Lisburn Air Training Corps Squadron (ATC)
• Pipe Major Royal Artillery
• Mr Mark Mullen (Bugler)

Frank Pantridge Memorial Statue

James Francis Pantridge was born on the outskirts of the historic village of Hillsborough, Northern Ireland, in 1916. He qualified at Queen’s University, Belfast, in 1939, and on the declaration of the World War II he immediately reported to the recruiting office, there being no conscription in Northern Ireland. Posted to the Far East he became medical officer of an infantry battalion. During the battle that preceded the fall of Singapore, he was given an immediate award of the Military Cross. The citation read, “This officer worked unceasingly under the most adverse conditions of continuous bombing and shelling and was an inspiring example to all with whom he came in contact. He was absolutely cool under the heaviest fire and completely regardless of his own personal safety at all times.”

Captured at the fall of Singapore, he spent much of his captivity in the slave labour camps on the Siam-Burma Railway, including some months in the notorious “death” camp Tanbaya, on the Siam-Burma border. He survived the usually fatal cardiac beriberi, an experience that may have initiated a special interest in heart disease. The fall of Singapore, the impregnable fortress, left its mark. He was to say that never again would he have any confidence in those in control of affairs.
Back in Belfast at the end of 1945, the only appointment he could obtain was that of part time supernumerary lecturer in the Queen’s University’s department of pathology. However, he obtained a scholarship to the United States, where, at the University of Michigan, he worked with F N Wilson, then the world authority on electrocardiography.

He returned to Belfast in 1950 and was appointed physician at the Royal Victoria Hospital. He quickly established an internationally acclaimed cardiology unit, recognised not only in the erudite medical journals but also in the North American lay press.

Frank had a veneer of arrogance at times but this often concealed an innate shyness. On a good day he looked as though he owned the world, on a bad day he looked as though he didn’t care who owned it. He appreciated being stood up to, but this, in truth, was often hard to do. He was a man with staccato delivery and a quickness of wit, which often bore the Irish element of visual humour; the clicked fingers acted as punctuation and the stiff index finger directed the verbal missile.