Paton, a signaller with the 155th (Lanarkshire Yeo­manry) Field Regiment RA, was called up in 1940 aged 20. He spent six months training as a signaller with the Royal Artillery only to be returned to his home area when he was posted to the Lanarkshire Yeomanry.

Less than a year later, in December 1941, he was to find himself in the wet and humid conditions of a rubber plantation at Jitra in the north of Malaya when the Japanese invaded through Thailand (then Siam). The 155th and others of the 11th Indian Division, including the 1st Leicesters and the 2nd East Surreys, were caught on the back foot. With little chance to set up any meaningful defensive positions, the Leicesters and East Surreys suffered heavy losses when Japanese tanks came sweeping down the road and they and the 155th were soon in withdrawal.

From then on, it was a stop-start war of attrition with their positions continually harried by dive bombers and by saboteurs who repeatedly cut their communication lines. On one occasion when laying lines, Paton’s team came across two natives who had cut some of the wire and had it coiled around themselves.

Horrified when ordered by an officer to despatch the two summarily, Paton was only too glad when an Argyll and Sutherland Highlander took the task from him.

Despite a brave stand at Kampur and again at Slim River, the exhausted gunners of the 155th and the 11th Indian Division were up against the might of the Japanese 25th Army made up of the crack divisions: the 5th Division, 2nd Imperial Guard Division and 18th Division, supported by the 3rd Air Force and Japanese Navy.

The end result was inevitable and in February 1942, when the 155th had fallen back to Singapore, the island was handed over to the Japanese. Paton was sent to the notorious Changi jail and recalled: “I was only 21 when I was taken prisoner.

“We were marched 15 miles to Changi jail where we quickly learned the value of sticking together – if you didn’t, you didn’t survive. We also learned to steal whatever we could while on work parties down at the docks. Sewing machine needles, razor blades, thread – they could all be traded with the local Chinese.” Like many other PoWs in a similar position, he remembered the scrupulous honesty of these members of the Chinese population who risked beheading if caught by the Japanese.

In October 1942, Paton and others from the 155th were part of a contingent sent to build the now notorious railway. He considerd himself fortunate that he had not been included in the earlier squads sent to cut the traces through the disease-ridden jungle. Few survived. Instead he had the “easier” job of carrying and laying rails.

On occasions the PoWs would get their own back on their brutal overseers. When laying the rails on bends they would alter the spacing so that – sometimes – the trains would jump the track. They were worked like slaves. If there was a rush to finish a particular job, they would be kept at it for more than 16 hours a day. And if, during the monsoon season, the embankment gave way, they were roused from their exhausted sleep in the middle of the night.

But if things were bad for Paton and his mates, they were worse for others. He said: “We all thought that we were treated badly by the Japanese but that was nothing compared to the treatment some Indian and Gurkha troops received.”

After his release in 1945, Paton returned to Lanarkshire where he resumed his previous trade as a builder. He was advised by his mother not to allow anger and bitterness against his former captors to colour his life. And, unlike many other PoWs, he was able to do this. He married Audrey later that year and set about putting the past behind him.

He established a successful building firm, Crawford and Paton, in Hamilton and was elected president of the Slate Trade Association. He played an active part in Hamilton Old Kirk, where he was not averse to carrying out cut-price “homers” for those less well-off. In his eighties, though long-retired, he was still to be found on roofs doing jobs for the “elderly”.

On VJ Day, only a few weeks before his death, he joined two other veterans of the Lanarkshire Yeomanry in laying a wreath at the Cenotaph at George Square in Glasgow in memory of fallen comrades.

He is survived by his daughters, Lesley and Hilary, his wife Audrey having predeceased him.

War veteran;

Born July 9, 1920;

Died September 27, 2009.