The gentle thwack of croquet mallets. The ruffle of white canvas umbrellas as frangipani-scented breezes from the Sulu Sea soften the tropical night. Waitresses in black-and-white pinafores ferrying pots of tea. Behind us, is the somnolent stateliness of Agnes Keith's house, where the many-chinned, bounteously bosomed socialite author of Land Below the Wind held sway. Below, are the twinkling lights of Sandakan Bay.
At the English Tea House and Restaurant it's as though the 1930s - when Sandakan was the capital of British North Borneo - never ended. That was a time when timber created the world's highest concentration of millionaires in what was a languid pocket of lawned-and-louvred splendour. 'If the war hadn't wrecked Sandakan, it would have been one of the great towns of Southeast Asia,' says military historian Lynette Silver.
Today, downtown Sandakan is a hotchpotch of underwhelming medium-rise apartment and industrial buildings. What wasn't flattened by the Allies in June 1945 was razed by the retreating Japanese. Miraculously, four buildings survived: a mosque, two temples and St Michael's church. The granite church, built in 1893, stands as the only remaining connection with the second world war prisoners with whom Sandakan is most readily associated. It was here that many of the 2,700 Allied POWs camped when first transported from Singapore in 1942 and 1943 to construct, together with Indonesian civilian prisoners, a runway, before being marched inland. It is in their footsteps that Silver will lead us in the next six days on the inaugural Sandakan Death March Challenge Trek, covering a 120km section of the route recently reclaimed from the jungle.
The balmy air is filled with nervous anticipation. In the group are adventure seekers - many have done the Kokoda Track - and those on personal pilgrimages. Graham and Alan each had an uncle die here. Doug lost his father on the Thai-Burma Railway and is keen to walk in the shadow of other members of the Australian 2/29th Battalion. 'It's an odd process that brings me here, trying to get a clean sheet,' he says. 'I've had a lot of anger and resentment about the war, having grown up without a father.'
An original boiler, excavator and water tank litter the now-suburban 11-hectare Sandakan Memorial Park, which occupies the original camp site. Myths are debunked: 'Not everyone that was sent to Sandakan went on a death march and not all those who went on the death marches died,' explains Silver. Many of the 1,053 Allied starters reached the final camps, only to perish later. Only six Australians - assisted by local villagers - escaped to tell the tale.
While the POWs had six cucumbers to sustain 50 men for four days, we load up with energy-rich Sabahan staples - noodles, rice, eggs and chicken wings. Tham Yau Kong's team of cheery, sure-footed Dusan porters will lug water and food rations. 'How much extra is the sedan-chair option?' someone jokes.
The trek begins in a fashion with which we are to become overly familiar: a 45-degree climb. 'Jim would have been shot on that first hill,' remarks Silver, referring to one of our group who stopped to catch his breath. Once POWs stopped, they stopped for good.