Every 14th of February, Singapore commemorates Total Defence Day. The date is not randomly chosen. It marks the fall of Singapore in 1942, when the island, then under British colonial rule, was surrendered to the Japanese. The moment is remembered as one of the darkest chapters in our history, a lesson in vulnerability.
But within that darkness also shines the memory of resistance—of men who stood their ground even when defeat was certain. And among these men, one name must never be forgotten: Lieutenant Adnan bin Saidi.
Bukit Chandu: The Last Stand
On 14 February 1942, Japanese forces stormed Pasir Panjang Ridge, a critical line of defence leading towards the city. It was here, at Bukit Chandu—so named for its opium-processing factories—that the Malay Regiment made its last stand. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and under relentless fire.
Lieutenant Adnan, leading C Company of the 1st Malay Regiment, refused to surrender. He and his men fought hand-to-hand when bullets ran out. Even when the British command had already decided to retreat and ultimately surrender Singapore, Adnan stood resolute. He is said to have told his men: “We will fight till the end. We will never surrender.”
Captured and brutally executed, his sacrifice became a symbol of courage. And yet, for decades, his name was a footnote in our national story.
Why Wasn’t He More Prominently Remembered?
It is worth asking: why has Lieutenant Adnan’s story not been more prominently highlighted in our Total Defence Day commemorations?
The facts are not hidden. Military journals and historical articles speak of his bravery. Veterans who fought alongside him bore witness to his refusal to yield. Yet in the mainstream narrative, for years, he was overshadowed by the broader storyline of British defeat and Japanese occupation.
Part of the reason may lie in post-war politics. The colonial lens often highlighted British officers, even when their conduct—fleeing Singapore, abandoning locals—was less than noble. Stories of indigenous resistance, particularly from Malay soldiers, were sidelined. Perhaps it was uncomfortable to acknowledge that when the empire crumbled, it was not the empire that defended Singapore, but men like Adnan.
Another reason could be our own nation-building narrative in its early decades. Keen to forge a common Singaporean identity, there may have been hesitation to highlight ethnic-specific heroes. But the danger of such omission is that communities lose sight of their own exemplars of courage.
A Hero for All, A Symbol for the Malays
Lieutenant Adnan is not just a Malay hero; he is a Singaporean hero. His sacrifice embodies the very essence of Total Defence: the will to stand firm even in impossible odds.
But it is also true that his story holds special resonance for the Malay community. At a time when stereotypes of passivity or marginalisation can still linger, Adnan’s defiance and discipline stand as powerful counter-narratives. His memory tells young Malay men—and women—that courage is in their blood, that leadership is within their reach.
To honour him is to affirm that the Malay contribution to Singapore is not secondary, but central. It is to remind ourselves that the spirit of defence does not only live in barracks and training grounds. It must also inspire the pursuit of excellence in literature, in technology, in the sciences. The call is not just to defend the nation with arms, but to advance it with ideas.
“Takkan Hilang Melayu di Dunia”
This brings us to a phrase often heard but rarely unpacked: “Takkan hilang Melayu di dunia”—“The Malays will never vanish from this world.” It comes from the legend of Hang Tuah, the great warrior of the Malacca Sultanate.
The story goes that Hang Tuah, once accused of treason, was sentenced to death. His close companion Hang Jebat, believing Tuah had been executed unjustly, rebelled against the Sultan. But Tuah had in fact been spared. When he reappeared, he was commanded to quell Jebat’s revolt. After a tragic duel that lasted days, Tuah defeated Jebat.
From this story, a larger truth emerged: that even in times of betrayal, division, and near-destruction, the Malay spirit endures. The phrase “takkan hilang Melayu di dunia” has since become a cultural anchor. It does not mean blind pride or ethnic triumphalism. Rather, it is a vow of survival—that whatever trials befall, the Malay identity, language, and values will adapt and persist.
In a children-friendly telling, it could be shared this way:
“Long ago, there were two brave friends, Hang Tuah and Hang Jebat. They were both strong warriors who loved their people. But one day, they disagreed. Their fight was so fierce that it seemed the Malay people might break apart. Yet, from their story came a promise: no matter what happens, no matter how hard the times, the Malays will never disappear. They will always stand, always rise again.”
When we connect this promise to the sacrifice of Lieutenant Adnan, the resonance deepens. His last stand at Bukit Chandu was not just about holding a ridge. It was about holding onto dignity, honour, and identity. In his resistance, the vow of “takkan hilang Melayu di dunia” was given flesh and blood.
A Call for Today
So what does this mean for us today, in Singapore 2025? It means that remembering Lieutenant Adnan is not an exercise in nostalgia. It is a call to action.
If he could face overwhelming force with nothing but grit, then surely we can face our challenges—in education, in industry, in creativity—with the same spirit. If he could stand firm when allies abandoned him, then surely we can stand tall when competition is fierce, when setbacks weigh heavy.
To young Malay Singaporeans: your heritage is not one of silence, but of bravery. Your role is not only to follow, but to lead. Lieutenant Adnan’s courage should not be confined to military museums. It should inspire breakthroughs in classrooms, laboratories, theatres, and boardrooms.
And to all Singaporeans: his story is a reminder that our strength does not lie in borrowed power, but in the will of our own people. The lesson of Bukit Chandu is that defence is not given; it is chosen.
Towards a Fuller Commemoration
As we mark Total Defence Day each year, let us ask ourselves: are we telling the full story? Are we giving honour where it is due? To leave Adnan’s story in the margins is to risk forgetting that real heroes sometimes wear familiar faces, sometimes speak our mother tongues, sometimes look like our neighbours.
Perhaps the greatest tribute we can pay is not only to remember him, but to live as he did: with loyalty, with resolve, and with unshakeable faith that our future is worth defending.
Closing Reflection
Lieutenant Adnan stood at Bukit Chandu, not knowing if anyone would remember him. Today, we must make sure we do. His courage is not a relic of 1942. It is a living challenge to us in 2025.
The British may have fled, but he did not. The empire may have abandoned us, but he did not. And because he stood, we must now stand—not only in uniform, but in every field where Singapore needs its sons and daughters to rise.
Takkan hilang Melayu di dunia. And within that promise lies another: Takkan hilang semangat pertahanan Singapura.The spirit of defence will never vanish from Singapore.
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