Machine guns chattered, tanks burned, and then the British riflemen began to fire as the enemy brought up supporting infantry. The Japanese pressed a determined assault, but the Cambridgeshire Battalion stood firm for two violent hours of hard fighting. Nishimura realized he would not easily get through that village, so he ordered up everything he had assembling on the road behind his tanks.
“The honor of our division goes with you!” he shouted. “Take that village! Get up that road!”
Further east, a macabre scene was taking place at Tengah airfield. The Japanese mounted a well coordinated attack, with all their artillery firing to soften the enemy line before the harsh throaty calls of the Sergeants and officers sent their infantry forward. At that moment, Monty had all the searchlights they could salvage from the airfield turned on, and the 25-pounders fired a salvo of star shells. There, swarming over the airfield in full battalion formations, came rank after rank of veteran Japanese infantry. It was a banzai charge of enormous proportions, with fully twelve Japanese battalions involved over a three mile front that stretched from the Kranji river to a mile south of Bulim.
The officers had drawn their swords and led the assault in with the cry, “Tenno Heika Banzai! — Long Live the Emperor!” They swept over the airfield towards the British lines, in a dreadful rush. Sergeant Dillmore saw one of his lads in the 1st Cambridgeshire start to turn and run, but he collared the man. The unit had been positioned at an angle in Monty’s defense, and now faced charges on three sides.
“None of that,” said the Sergeant. “Look to your mates and look to your front. If we go, the whole line goes with us, so here we stand.”
The 25-pounders got in on the action, their hot barrels depressing to fire H.E. rounds as the enemy came on with a terrible din. Someone sounded a bugle, and then behind it came the pipes played by a big Scot from 1/5th Foresters further down the line. A whistle sounded, and the British infantry actually volley fired, then it was independent action, with every man firing for all he was worth.
The Japanese attack was strong and mercilessly brave, but also reckless. It was an attempt to storm the British lines by sheer will, determination and ferocious numbers. Up country, their enemy had broken in the face of such attacks many times, but here Montgomery had his men in good defensive positions, weary from digging them, but glad the trenches and sand bags were there now that the bullets were flying. And they held. Both of the two Cambridgeshire battalions stood their ground, at Mandai and on the angle at Tengah, which would now go down as a decisive moment in the annuals of British infantry battles. They held, for two hours, then three, as the skies began to lighten over the terrible scene, where it was hand to hand at the sandbagged wall, bayonets on either side flashing with the early light.
A couple miles back, Monty was on the highest ground he could find, Hill 477 overlooking Koat Hong, King’s Road, and the village of Bulim. He looked at his watch, then turned to Brigadier Clifton of the 6th New Zealanders. “Gurkhas should be back on the line by now. They’ll watch things here. General, have at them, if you please. Take your men in, all four battalions, and give them bloody hell.”
Montgomery’s defense had stood like that strong Rook in the center of the board, and now he was sending in his Knights. It was a line that might have rolled off Wellington’s tongue at Waterloo. It was a “Maitland, now’s your time” moment. It was the very best that New Zealand could have sent to the defense of the Commonwealth, tall, strong young soldiers that had been hardened like twisted rope in the desert fighting against the Germans.
The Rock of the East was crawling with enemy infantry, but Montgomery was determined that it would not fall.
Part V
Bitter Dregs
“Masters, I have to tell a tale of woe,
A tale of folly and wasted life,
Hope against hope, the bitter dregs of strife,
Ending, where all things end, in death at last.”
― William Morris
Chapter 13
Thus far the twisting cords of history had seen the British holding the line. The last minute arrival of Montgomery, and his complete re-disposition of the forces on the ground, had dramatically changed the complexion of the battle. With foreknowledge of the likely enemy landing zones, Monty had concentrated his best units in the key area for defense. Instead of being spread out all along the northeast coast, from the Naval Base to Chanji, he had the British 18th Division well in hand, a strong bulwark astride King’s road and the village of Bulim.
The timely arrival of those carriers transferring 90 Hurricane fighters, and the salvation of the Empress of China had all conspired to bolster the British defense. The planes were double shifting from their new airfields in Sumatra, with 36 to 40 going out for a combat air patrol sweep in the morning, dueling in the skies with the formations of Japanese bombers escorted by Zeroes. As their fuel ran out, the survivors would head home, tipping their wings to see the relief squadrons coming in the next wave to stand their watch. Losses had been heavy, with fully a third of the planes shot down in the ceaseless duels with the enemy fighters, but their dogged presence was both a bolster to the British morale, as well as a brake on the Japanese bombing effort.
The presence of the 6th New Zealanders, and the Gurkha Battalion also weighed heavily on the scales of this battle. They were troops that never should have been there, Monty’s sword behind the shield of the British Division, which he had used to good effect.
Yet on the other side of the equation, the disgruntled disposition and wounded pride of General Nishimura had also changed the complexion of the battle considerably. He was facing the Australians at Kranji, as he had historically, but in Fedorov’s history he had tried to slip up the estuary of the Kranji river to get behind that position, and his attack had become a disaster. His troops had become lost in the many sloughs and minor tributaries, bogged down in the mud flats and mangroves, and then caught in a sudden conflagration when the Aussies emptied the fuel bunker at Kanji into the river and set it on fire. This time, his daring attack had come right on the causeway, and the open ground to the east. While his casualties were heavy, the herculean effort of his engineers had saved the day when they bridged that 70 foot gap and got those first few light tanks across onto the main road.
Seeing the opportunity this now presented him, and learning of the heavy fighting then underway near Bulim, Yamashita decided to risk everything by sending his last two fresh regiments into that battle. It was a gamble that looked like it might pay off, for on the morning of February 10th, Nishimura’s tanks and infantry finally stormed the position at Mandai. Only six of the eighteen 2-pounders were left as the defenders fell back to the hamlet of Yew Tee, and a company of Japanese tanks was already pushing past the retreating defenders on the main road.
To make matters worse, the Japanese engineers had bridged one segment of the Kanji river, allowing a battalion of Sugiura’s 42nd Regiment to cross. Supported by the engineer battalion behind them, they slowly overcame the resistance of the 5th Royal Norfolk Battalion, which was now retreating south, along with a battery of artillery that had been positioned in that sector. Monty had counted on the natural defense of that river estuary, but now it had been compromised. In effect, while his strong defense east of Tengah was holding as planned, the Japanese attack precipitated by General Nishimura was turning his right flank.
General Bennett’s own HQ staff and support squads had been caught up in the fighting at Mandai, but seeing the desperate situation collapsing, he got to a radio and made a frantic call to Montgomery. With his battle at Tengah still underway, Monty received this news with some consternation. He had already committed the New Zealanders to counterattack, and they had just driven the Japanese off his forward lines, restoring many positions where they had made inroads. Yet now the only reserve he had in hand was the Gurkha battalion, and that suited him perfectly. He sent a signal to Colonel Rana Gandar, telling him he was to take his entire battalion up the main road, estab
lish a blocking force, and delay the Japanese advance as long as possible.
“The loss of the causeway has buggered me,” he said to Percival where they were huddled in a small farmhouse at Koat Hong right on King’s Road. “The Australians are still holding up there to the east, are they not?”
“Maxwell’s Brigade is standing firm. Taylor took the worst of it.”
“Well then Maxwell must attack. We’ve got to cut off that bridge. They’ll rely on it for all their supplies now. Order all the Indian troops in the Naval Base to move west along the north shore and support Maxwell.”
At that moment, a low flying formation of Japanese bombers came roaring in, dropping sticks of 250 pound bombs that fell right on Koat Hong. The concussion and explosions raised havoc, overturning carts, blasting the farm houses, and smashing three staff cars parked outside Monty’s position. Percival dove right under the table as part of the roof collapsed, looking up to see Monty staring down at him, still standing, hands on his hips, his red beret askew, but otherwise unharmed.
“General Percival,” he said. “I don’t think you’ll have a very good view of the map from under that table.”
Those orders were relayed by radio, and late on the afternoon of the 10th, Maxwell threw 2/29th and 2/30th Battalions right down the coastal road towards the causeway. Behind them came 5/14 Punjab of the 11th Indian Division, which had been holding in the fortified positions at the Naval Base dubbed “HMS Terror.” While none of the three battalions were up to strength, they had enough in hand to make a strong attack down that road, driving back 1/5 Imperial Guards battalion, to Nishimura’s outrage. The fiery General pulled one company of tanks off the tail of his assault column, and then personally led a counterattack with all the troops in his headquarters section, and those in Colonel Komoto’s HQ. Seeing the dire threat to the bridge, many batteries of artillery across the strait on the shoreline of Johore Bahru depressed their barrels and began pouring fire onto that road.
The Japanese counterattack was furious, for their soldiers knew they were fighting directly under the eyes of their senior officers. They threw themselves at the Australians with complete ferocious rage, and the timely arrival of 16 Type 97 tanks made all the difference. With little more than a handful of Boys AT rifles, the Aussies could not stop them, and they were inexorably pushed back. At one point, Nishimura drew his samurai sword and personally beheaded two men of the Punjabs who were cowering on the ground, when the tanks overran their position. After Maxwell’s men made it back to their original positions, there were no more than two companies left of the two battalions that he had sent on that desperate foray.
* * *
The sun was falling, and as dusk settled on the battlefield, both sides tried to pull themselves together. The night would see no end to the bitter struggle on the road to Mandai. With Yamashita’s 11th Regiment now deploying through that blighted village, the Japanese paused briefly to bring those fresh troops up and plan a pre-dawn push down the road. In the battle for Tengah airfield and Bulim, both sides fell back to regroup. Monty was forced to pull his New Zealanders off the line to re-establish a reserve, but the other two British Brigades were still in good shape, and still manning their trenches and fox holes after that long day’s fight.
Yamashita received word from his 5th Division commander, Lieutenant General Takuro Matsui, that casualties were very heavy. In like manner, the 18th Division had suffered serious losses, and supplies and artillery were very low. He had gambled on breaking the enemy there with that massive attack, but it had come close to becoming gyokusai, a ‘shattered jewel’ attack that was near suicidal. It was not the first time a battlefield would see a desperate and determined charge like that, and be left with a carpet of the dead lying in clustered heaps all along the line.
At this point, Yamashita decided to play one last card, realizing his enemy must have also suffered grievous harm. He had his staff draft twenty copies of a letter to Percival, not yet realizing that he had been relieved by another man. They were placed into communications tubes and fired off with light mortars at presumed enemy HQ positions, and also delivered under cover of a white flag to the bunkers near Bulim. Montgomery got the message at 10:00PM that night, reading it with a wry grin.
“I call upon you to cease this meaningless fighting and instead discuss the issue of surrender,” he said aloud. “It seems we’ve knocked the wind out of them.”
He got hold of a staffer and told him to draft a reply to send back across the lines. “We are not prepared to discuss the terms of your surrender while your troops remain on this island. Should you lay down your arms and withdraw as you came, we will then consider suitable terms, and will promise you and your men fair treatment.”
When Yamashita received that reply he was dumbfounded, staring at the signature there of a man named B.L. Montgomery. His surprise soon turned to anger, and then utter frustration. Who was this man? Could it be that General Percival had been killed in action, and this was a relief officer?
It was now the eve of the 11th of February, Japan’s “National Day,” the equivalent of the American 4th of July. It was the day he had hoped to deliver his prize to the Emperor, and the temerity of the British reply to his demands, presuming he would be the one to surrender, now enraged him. He left the high tower of the Sultan’s Palace, drove through the hovels of Johore Bahru, and right over the causeway bridge, intending to personally direct the attack down that road with Colonel Watanabe’s 11th Regiment.
“You are the last regiment not yet engaged,” he told the Colonel. Nishimura’s Guards have fought hard to get this far, but now the honor falls to you. It is the eve of Kigensetsu, the day our Empire was founded. Tomorrow the spirit of the Emperor Jimmu will be watching each and every one of you. You must prevail! Everyone in Japan is waiting to hear of your victory here. Let every man do his utmost to see that it is delivered!” The men would advance that night, pushing the weary troops of the 2nd Cambridgeshire Battalion out of the village of Yew Tee in preparation for their morning assault.
That night, the men of Kinlan’s Gurhka Battalion took up positions astride the road to Mandai. Two companies of the 6/14 Punjabs came up on their right, and half a mile behind them, Montgomery was busy reorganizing the men of Brigadier Clifton’s 6th New Zealand Brigade. Each of those four battalions had lost a third of their strength, and the entire brigade now amounted to eight companies.
As the sun rode on the 11th, the Japanese tanks led the way, backed up by the fresh troops of the 11th Regiment of 5th Division. They came right down the road, where 2nd Company of the Gurkhas had set up a blocking position. Such an attack had always pushed unsupported infantry aside in the past, and their scouts had identified no enemy AT gun positions, yet the Gurkhas had just a little more than Boys AT rifles with them.
The hiss of Javelin ATGM missiles came as a complete shock, smashing into the lead tanks and blasting them to pieces. Colonel Komoto’s tankers had never seen such utter destruction of their vehicles, and the Japanese were momentarily stunned by the sudden, unexpected blow. Yet this was February 11th, and if the tanks could not bull their way through, the infantry would now have to do the job. They advanced, utterly fearless, moving in determined rushes past the smoldering remains of the leading tanks—and then the Gurkhas opened fire with everything they had.
Every man in every squad had the equivalent firepower of a machinegun in his assault rifle, and these were also backed up by teams with heavier machineguns and a pair of German made L123A1 Grenade Machineguns. The hail of those 40mm grenades popping off at a high rate of fire that could reach 320 rounds per minute was devastating. The Japanese would lose the equivalent of a full company, yet the close terrain and sheer momentum of their charge would carry them into the defensive line, where it was soon hand to hand combat. Now the bright flash of the Kukri knives met the Japanese bayonets, and the Gurkhas fought like demons.
Then, coming up in support, the Maori battalion surged up the road, their brave c
ompanies charging in counterattack. They fell on the scene, and the fate of Singapore was riding in the whirlwind of their attack. Neither side broke, and the fighting was fierce until the weight of those Gurkha assault rifles at close quarters literally cut the Japanese squads to pieces. They staggered back, driven on by the Maoris, and the enemy attack was finally broken. Over a third lay dead on the field, but undaunted, the remaining men of the 11th Regiment were already reorganizing for another charge.
Further west near Bulim, the 5th Division troops had fought to the point of utter exhaustion, yet were unable to take that strongpoint. The village was a burned and blackened wreck after that battle, but Yamashita’s great morning attack had failed. When he got the news he buried his forehead in his clenched fists, realizing that he would not have the resources to continue the fight for very much longer. His tanks lay blasted, broken on the main road. His assault battalions were shattered. In spite of that, the Japanese morale had not broken, and his hardened veterans would still fight if he ordered them to persevere.
Yet Yamashita realized he could destroy the fighting effectiveness of his entire force if he continued to press the attack under these circumstances. The ferocity of the enemy defense on that road had been completely unexpected. They had beaten back the very best troops he could throw at them, and all supported by armor that was good for nothing against a terrible new enemy anti-tank weapon. Who were these men? Surely they were demons from hell, sent to mock and berate him for his failure to break the enemy’s will to resist.
By mid-day he could see the futility of pressing on, and ordered his men to consolidate and rest for a night attack. General Nishimura came to the headquarters, his face blackened, a haggard, harried look in his eyes. The two men said nothing, but shared the same cup of tea. Theirs was the bitter dregs of fortune’s cup to drain that day, and the ghost of the Emperor Jimmu sat there with them.
Knight's Move (Kirov Series Book 21) Page 12
