by George Bruce
Meantime, to inspire confidence among the people and to ensure that the generals and chiefs fulfilled their duties properly, King Bagyidaw ordered his own two brothers, the Princes of Tharrawaddy and Tonghoo, to take supreme command of the operations against Rangoon. Judson reported that it was generally believed that just before the Prince of Tharrawaddy left to take command, he had said to the king that he trusted that after driving the English out of the country, he would not be stopped, but would be allowed to chase them into Bengal, but the king, a little weary now of these promises of instant victory, only smiled and made no reply.
The prince established his headquarters at Danubyu, upon the Irrawaddy, some 60 miles from Rangoon, an army supply depot, fortified and stockaded as strongly as the Burmese could manage. He loudly proclaimed his intention of surrounding and destroying the British forces and for this purpose ordered the river in their rear to be blocked up — though it was a task of great difficulty — ‘yet by labour and constant exertion, day and night, it must be done…’[38]
Not even the vital and industrious Burmese could block the channel of the great Irrawaddy, however. In no way discouraged, Prince Tharrawaddy instead decreed rigorous conscription laws, threatening the most severe punishment to deserters and those found guilty of misconduct in face of the enemy, promising at the same time liberal rewards and honours to those who distinguished themselves in action. He brought with him a small corps of astrologers.
These oracles were much respected, especially by Burmese of rank, Major Snodgrass, General Campbell’s Military Secretary, observed. They were consulted in all military operations and their decisions were rigidly followed. The influence of the moon upon the affairs of men was never doubted and from the fixing of a propitious time for attacking a position to the most mundane affair, nothing could prosper without consulting an astrologer.
Great hopes were therefore based upon the direction of command of the army by the princes, aided by the astrologers’ united skill. Success could not be doubted when still another formidable reinforcement was added to it. These were the king’s Invulnerables, a select corps believed by one and all to be immune from death by enemy action. Distinguished by shaven heads and the fine and colourful tattoos of elephants, tigers, leopards and other animals upon their arms and legs, they were known best to British troops by the small pieces of gold and silver or precious stones embedded beneath the skin of their arms.
Their role was to inspire the ordinary troops with courage and fearlessness and to launch desperate attacks upon the enemy. ‘In all the stockades and defences of the enemy,’ Snodgrass noted, ‘one or two of these heroes were generally found, whose duty it was to exhibit the war-dance of defiance upon the most exposed part of their defences…’ To the Military Secretary, theirs was an absurd role. ‘The infatuated wretches, under the excitement of opium, too frequently continued the ludicrous exhibition, till they afforded convincing proof of the value of their claims…’
A strange phase of this extraordinary war now began. For three or four weeks, the British, most of them still weak from the effects of malaria and hardly capable of warding off a determined attack, were left in peace. The reason, they learned from prisoners taken earlier, was that the astrologers were restraining the Invulnerables from attacking until an expected night of the lucky moon, as they called it. This, the astrologers finally decided, was the night of 30-31 August and a unit of Invulnerables promised to drive the wild foreigners out of the Shwedagon Pagoda then so that the prince and the accompanying priests might the next day celebrate an annual festival in the sacred precincts.
The British, expecting the attack, placed a small picquet between the broad steps of the pagoda and the surrounding jungle. The moon set shortly before midnight and the jungle cries had quietened. Sharp on the stroke of twelve with a great roar a body of men — the Invulnerables — holding lanterns which glimmered in the dark rushed the British picquet, which fired volleys into the mass and retreated in good order until it reached the pagoda steps, at whose summit a strong force in line awaited them. ‘At length,’ Snodgrass noted,
vivid flashes, followed by the cannon’s thundering peals, broke from the silent ramparts of the British post, stilling the tumult of the advancing mass, while showers of grape and successive volleys of musketry fell with dreadful havoc among their crowded ranks, against which the imaginary shield of self-deceit… was found of no avail, leaving the unfortunate Invulnerables scarcely a chance between destruction and inglorious flight.
Nor did they hesitate long upon the alternative; a few devoted enthusiasts may have despised to fly, but as they all belonged to the same high-favoured caste, and had brought none of their less-favoured countrymen to witness their disgrace, the great body of them soon sought for safety in the jungle, where they no doubt invented a plausible account of their night’s adventure…
Other minor actions were fought during September, some, like that at Thantabain, to the credit of the British and others, like the one at Kykloo, complete failures, with heavy losses.
Meantime, the advance division of Prince Tharrawaddy’s army was holding Thantabain, on the Lyne river. On 5 October Campbell sent Major Evans to attack it with 300 men of HM’s 38th, 100 of the 18th Madras Infantry, a detachment of Bengal Artillery and a division of gun-boats commanded by Captain Chads, of HMS Arachne, whose ship had relieved the Larne, completely disabled by sickness. The force arrived opposite the village of Thantabain two days later, after having skirmished with enemy war-boats on the way. A flotilla of enemy war-boats, each carrying a gun, defended the village, which was fortified by three breastworks built of large beams of timber.
After beating off the attacks of the enemy war-boats the flotilla shelled the stockades. Major Evans then landed his troops and took the first of them by storm. The next morning he attacked the main stockade, which was taken with little resistance. Built of solid teak, it was fifteen feet high, 200 yards long and 50 yards in depth, with an interior platform, loopholes for muskets, seven heavy guns and space for 2,000 men. A magnificent bungalow occupied the centre of the stockade, the residence of the wungyis in command. Shot from the naval flotilla had riddled the bungalow’s walls. The force returned to headquarters without the loss of a single man and with the knowledge that Prince Tharrawaddy had learned something about British warfare.
At this time Campbell could put barely 3,000 fit men into the field. The rains continued and with it malaria, which had reached epidemic proportions, and dysentery. Convalescence did so little to restore the health of the sick that the doctors suggested establishing stations elsewhere for it. They inspected Mergui and Tavoy in the far south, reported favourably on the climate there, and these two towns were chosen for the purpose. Both were higher and dryer than Rangoon and the troops who went to convalesce there rapidly recovered their full health and vigour.
Campbell waited impatiently for the rains to end and campaigning weather to return. Three more regiments of Sepoys now joined him and helped to make good his losses. Since the main body of the Burmese troops had meantime withdrawn some sixty miles up river to Danubyu, he determined meantime to attack and seize the town of Martaban, some 100 miles to the east of Rangoon on the coast of Tenasserim, and thus complete British domination of maritime Burma.
A force of some 450 men of the 41st Regiment and the 3rd Madras Light Infantry, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Godwin, together with a naval flotilla in charge of Lieutenant Charles Keele, sailed on 13 October, but light and contrary winds slowed their progress, so that instead of taking the town by surprise they met an enemy well prepared for them.
Martaban lay some twenty miles from the coast up a winding creek, from which the Burmese had many chances to attack the flotilla, but finally it anchored safely nearly abreast of the town. ‘At five o’clock in the morning of the 30th the men composing the first division were in their boats — 98 of HM’s 41st Regiment, 75 of the 3rd Native Light Infantry, 8 of the Bengal Artillery and 38 royal navy seamen,’
Godwin reported.
The advance sounded a little after five, and the boats rowed off, and soon came under a very heavy fire of all arms. On approaching the shore I perceived that there had been a misunderstanding with respect to the spot at which I wished to land, and that we had got on the wrong side of the nullah. As we could not carry the ladders through the mud, I ordered the boats to push off and put in at the place I had appointed.
At this time a heavy fire of artillery and musketry was on us and the Lascars would not face it. Lieutenant Keele, of the Arachne… pushed on ashore, and gallantly went to see if the nullah could be passed: he came back almost directly, and informed me there was a boat in the nullah, over which the men could go, and that the side of the rock to the battery appeared practicable.
Trusting to the gallantry of the people with me, I determined to try it. It was stormed under a heavy fire of musketry; the enemy did not leave the fort till we were within a few paces of them, and they even threw stones at us when we were too much under the fort for their fire to reach us…
I now felt secure of the place, and after waiting till the men had recovered from the exertion, and to get them together, they marched down along the works, and cleared all before them. On marching through the town it was as usual, deserted, except by a great many women. The emptiness of the houses showed every preparation had been made… to prevent our getting any property. I enclose a return of the guns taken, as also the ordnance stores, the quantities of the latter immense, kept in a stockade about half a mile up the hill…
Godwin’s losses were only seven killed and fourteen wounded; also two sailors were killed and three wounded. The captured ordnance stores included 16 guns, 100 jingals, 500 muskets, 7,000 round-shot, 1,500 grape-shot, 100,000 musket balls, 9,000 lbs of lead, 20,000 flints, 10,000 musket cartridges and 26,500 lbs of gunpowder. Even more worthwhile, they found large stores of grain.
Godwin had now seized all the Burmese sea coast south of Rangoon. All this, and the capture of Martaban’s seemingly impregnable fort, had been achieved by an actual fighting force of 220 men. For Campbell it was good news, badly needed, for in October sickness had been the worst so far and the number of deaths the highest yet. A total of 1,200 had died from one disease or the other. And only 1,300 British troops were fit for duty. Fortunately, all the country between Rangoon and Danubyu was more or less one great lake, so that even had the Burmese been ready to exploit the enemy’s weakness, of which they were no doubt aware, it would have been hard for them to do so.
For some weeks Campbell had received reports, largely through prisoners or discontented Burmese civilians who volunteered the information, that Bundula himself had arrived in Ava and was assembling an army to reinforce the Burmese forces already at Danubyu. So at last, with the return of fine weather, came the prospect of getting to grips with the enemy’s main army.
6: MAHA BANDULA IN COMMAND
Maha Bandula had ordered his army to march across the Arakan Yomas in detached parties and assemble at Danubyu while he went on to Ava to receive King Bagyidaw’s commands. During the worst of the rains, in August, the detachments of this 6,000 strong force marched down the flat coast of Arakan and then turned left and ascended the tumbled hills of the An Pass into Burma. It was a formidable task at that time of year, even for men native to the country. A thick mist hung over the hills of rain-soaked jungle, water streamed down from the leaden skies, damp air chilled the bones, mountain streams were in flood, legions of leeches sucked the blood, mosquitoes poisoned it with an especially virulent form of malaria. Many soldiers of this army, provided with only a bag of rice in the uninhabited jungle, fell by the wayside, but most of them resolutely struggled through to their rendezvous, inspired by the ferocious will of their leader.
Bundula was as unlike the ordinary Burmese general as a tiger is a sloth. Protocol, and the worship of caste, court etiquette and formal behaviour, he disdained, not perhaps on rational grounds, but because he was so individual and volcanic in character that he could not accept such restraints. He was ungovernably violent. Once, faced by a reluctant general, he was reported to have leapt from his horse and decapitated the man with a stroke of his sword. Disobedience in the ranks met equal severity. Yet he was more than a violent tyrant, for the ordinary Burmese soldiery were said to be devoted to him and much of his power arose from their willingness to fulfil his commands to the letter. Perhaps the threat of death for disobedience influenced them, but apart from his rank, he certainly exercised a strange power over men. As a result, his troops invariably took up their battle positions on time, in contrast to the leisurely methods of his fellow commanders. Alone among Burmese generals he acted according to the military situation rather than the astrologers’ word. In so far as swiftness, forethought and energy marked all his campaigns, he was a man born for warfare.
Bundula was back in Ava about mid-August and was acclaimed after his victory at Ramu as a national saviour. He had with him some 250 Sepoy prisoners-of-war, still wearing their red tunics and white trousers. Before the king and his court they demonstrated items of infantry drill, like firing and reloading on the march, their obvious skill making a great impression on the assembled Burmese, who recalled that the British troops were reputed to be even better. How much greater then must their own military skill be to defeat troops like this, they reasoned. And this reassurance went far to obscure the effect of their own defeats in the Rangoon region.[39]
A much chastened Prince Tharrawaddy, whom King Bagyidaw had recalled, warned Bundula that he might find war with the British very different from his expectations. Bundula is said to have laughed, and replied: ‘In eight days I will have taken my dinner in the Rungdon [public hall] of Rangoon and have returned thanks at the Shwedagon pagoda.’ The prince replied: ‘In a few days I shall hear of your running away, for you have a very rough people to deal with.’ Nevertheless, the whole court and capital looked forward to a quick victory and a hundred guns were set up on the river bank at Ava ready to fire a victory salute.
Three months the Burmese had spent in assembling and organising the military resources of the nation; these and the troops back from Arakan had placed an army 60,000 strong, thought to be the biggest and best ever, at Bundula’s disposal. It included 35,000 musketeers; several hundred jingals, the small highly mobile swivel guns which fired a 12-ounce ball; 700 cavalrymen from Manipur, known as the Cassay Horse, riding the short-legged but very strong horses which gave them that name; a considerable force of artillery, carried on elephant back, and some 20,000 infantry armed with swords and spears plus the necessary tools for entrenching and stockading. Finally, there was the inevitable unit of Invulnerables ‘who, amply provided with charms, spells and opium… afforded much amusement in the dance of defiance… with the most prodigal exposure of their persons,’ Snodgrass noted primly.
In the middle of November, despite rumours of Bundula’s advance, Campbell too was making preparations to carry the war deeper into enemy territory, towards Ava. A group of 500 Mugh boatmen had arrived from Chittagong for river transport; two British regiments, the 1st and the 47th, some battalions of native infantry, a regiment of cavalry, a troop of horse artillery and a rocket unit were coming as reinforcements.
Then towards the end of November the British intercepted a dispatch from Bundula to the ex-governor of Martaban, which reported that he had left Prome, about 220 miles north of Rangoon on the Irrawaddy, at the head of an invincible host, with horses and elephants and all warlike stores needed to capture the English or drive them into the sea.
The British were delighted at the prospect of at last meeting the Burmese in open battle, but Campbell was by no means ready. His force was still weakened by sickness, it was still existing mainly on salt pork and mouldy biscuit, with unripe pineapples from the forests; Godwin’s force had not yet returned from Martaban, and Kemmendine was only sparsely occupied. Linear defence of the extensive position between Rangoon and the Shwedagon Pagoda, two fronts each two miles long, was
therefore hardly practicable.
Two lines of small posts fronting east to west, consisting of redoubts and fortified pagodas held by small garrisons with ample artillery, were therefore hurriedly built instead, leaving a reserve force ready to move to the support of any hard-pressed post. Kemmendine was supported on the river by the sloop HMS Sophie, 18 guns, an East India Company’s cruiser and a strong flotilla of small gunboats.
By 30 November, Bundula had deployed his army in the forest before the Shwedagon Pagoda, a semi-circular ring of campfire smoke above the dark green trees marking its line, which ran from above Kemmendine in a south-easterly direction to the Pozundaung Creek below Rangoon.
With a heavy cannonade and a rattle of musketry, Bundula launched the attack on Kemmendine shortly after dawn on 1 December. ‘From our commanding position on the Great Pagoda, though nearly two miles distant… we could distinctly hear the yells and shouts of the infuriated assailants, occasionally returned by the hearty cheer of the British seamen, as they poured in their heavy broadsides upon the resolute and persevering masses,’ Snodgrass reported.
At the same time, in the half light, a flotilla of fire-rafts came blazing down river from above Kemmendine, their flames, thirty or forty feet high, lighting up the jungle with a lurid glow. The East India Company’s cruiser Teignmouth, stationed above Kemmendine for the very purpose of intercepting these rafts, upped anchor and drifted down to Rangoon out of harm’s way, followed by the flaming rafts. Close behind them came a squadron of gilded war-boats, their oars flashing in unison in and out of the water. It drew up abreast of the Kemmendine stockade and opened fire on it with guns.
