Bluey was also struck in the forehead by a piece of shrapnel but as it didn’t bleed he thought nothing of it, believing the wound had been caused by a tree branch. Subsequently a medic removed the splinter but the scar remains to this day.
Fortunately no one was seriously hurt and all of the gunners remained on duty, except for the sergeant, who was injured severely enough to be evacuated to Singapore.9
The same day, Bluey Kennedy also witnessed an attack by Japanese infantry units who were supported by tanks and dive bombers. It was mayhem.
‘The Japanese were firing with rifles, machine guns, mortars and shellfire from an unknown number of tanks. Branches and leaves were falling from the trees and the whistle and thud of projectiles hitting trees could be heard. Ricocheting pieces of shell whirred past with their chilling sound … then an attempt was made to force the road block with tanks.’10
The attack was quickly thwarted with the combined fire of the anti-tank and two field guns. The Japs got the message and beat a hasty retreat into the rubber plantations.
Excited by the scene, an Aussie infantryman who was directing his mortar crew’s fire from a position up a rubber tree roared with delight as one of his mortar bombs dropped precisely down the open hatch of one of the enemy’s tanks.
‘Give that man a cigar,’ he yelled to his cobber on the ground.
While a little larrikin humour did not go amiss, the Australians’ dilemma was no joke. Much valour was displayed that day as they tried their utmost to resist the advancing horde. There seemed no limit to the Aussies’ fighting spirit, even to the point of a near suicidal bayonet attack, which had more in common with World War I than II.
How this was allowed to happen is a question that angers Arthur Kennedy to this day. It is a scene that continues to dog him and concerns the orders of Lieutenant-Colonel Galleghan, whose reputation for iron discipline and courage in conflict went before him. But was what happened bravery or madness?
To fully understand the circumstances that led to the bayonet attack it is necessary to return to the few remaining authoritative documents that provide a detailed account of events – the Report of Operations as compiled by Colonels Thyer and Kappe.
Couched in the military terms of the day, 15 January 1942 started with two medium-sized Japanese tanks making their way down the road.
The 16 Anti-tank Battalion opened fire on them and the tanks withdrew. Another two quickly replaced them only to be destroyed.
While this was going on the enemy had been using the nearby rubber plantation to dig in, right on A and D Companies’ front. Suddenly the whole of the battalion came under fire from enemy mortars and other weapons.
‘Increased enemy movement indicated that the enemy was preparing an attack on the front of those companies,’ the report revealed.
It was at this moment, as the enemy was forming up, that Lieutenant-Colonel Galleghan decided to strike. Only one company could be spared for the task, which he fully appreciated required a battalion, but manpower was short.
On receiving his orders, the company commander said he would be ready to attack at 11.45 hours. As ‘zero’ hour approached, a number of Japanese light and medium tanks appeared, intended to assist the enemy’s infantry attack. It meant the postponement of Galleghan’s planned counterattack until the Japanese hardware could be dealt with by artillery and mortar fire.
Confusion followed as HQ and D Troop of 30 Forward Battalion started to withdraw and on arrival at their new position were unable to support the forward infantry. Who gave the order to fall back is not revealed but in the chaos of war, messages and instructions are often lost and this was no exception.
Thyer and Kappe’s report suggests the troop withdrew because of fear of being left behind without infantry protection. While the truth will never be known ‘yeoman service’ was eventually rendered by C Troop.
‘Soon a steady and accurate fire from battalion mortars was being poured into the enemy tank assembly area,’ it was reported.
Unfortunately this was not enough to deter the enemy. Because of the absence of D Troop and increasing enemy resistance, the artillery tasks were becoming too numerous for C Troop to handle. In addition, the Australians had to contend with a constant battering from enemy mortars, light automatics and small-arms fire, as well as wave after wave of dive bombers from the air. The sound and the fury of armed conflict between two violently opposing forces was almost unbearable, but slowly the men of the 8th Division gained the upper hand.
The enemy had difficulty forming up and their preparations for the next stage of the offensive were becoming disorganised. The Japs were in disarray and Galleghan saw his chance.
The time was opportune to launch D Company on their objective – a hill about 1000 metres forward of the 2/30th Battalion position.
At precisely 12.45 the men of D Company lined up to launch their bayonet attack across open countryside in full view of the Japanese. What was Galleghan thinking? Had he learned nothing from World War I, when men sent over the top were mown down by enemy gunfire in their thousands? Or was he simply willing to sacrifice his troops in pursuit of a minor military advantage?
Stan Arneil, who was in the 2/30th Battalion and wrote extensively about his commanding officer after the war, believed Galleghan ‘expected a mass attack from the Japanese at any time so he took the initiative and ordered his troops to advance with the bayonet’.
Bluey Kennedy said the scene left an indelible impression. ‘It is something I will never forget and perhaps one of the last of this type of attack ever mounted. It is difficult to believe that men could be sent against the enemy in such a way,’ he later wrote.11
‘The officer was mad. He just lined them up like a parade ground and they were ordered forward.’12
Others, including Stan Arneil, saw it differently.
A ‘great cry’ went up as D Company advanced in open formation across the clearing. ‘It was magnificent to see them, each man in place with his rifle held high across his body walking forward as if on a training exercise. We had prepared for this for two years, and as we and others watched, we yelled and roared with excitement to see D Company doing its job so well.’13
As the infantry marched on with their bayonets fixed it looked like a most unequal struggle. There was hand-to-hand fighting as the two sides met. Screaming could be heard coming from the trees. For a time it seemed the Australians were facing mass slaughter, but despite the fire-storm, they carried on relentlessly. Evidently exhilarated by their mission, the Australians put up such a fight that the Japanese were badly shaken by the onslaught. Until now the Japs had been used to victory, taking the Indian and British forces they’d encountered along the way with little or no effort. But this was different. The Australians were over-running enemy machine-gun nests and killing the gun crews. This was a band of men who enjoyed the fight and forced the Japanese infantry to withdraw, at least for the time being.
By now other companies behind were also coming under fire. C Company on the right felt the full blast of 12 enemy aircraft and sundry mortars. It got so bad that the company’s forward elements had no alternative but to fall back under pressure from a force that was three times bigger than them.
Undeterred D Company’s infantry continued on their dogged and seemingly foolhardy advance up the hill until Galleghan and his officers realised that the battalion was in real danger of being annihilated or cut off. Enemy tanks were sighted manoeuvring into position further up the road in an apparent attempt to cut off forward elements. At the same time those companies astride the main road were being heavily shelled. The Australians were in mortal peril of being overwhelmed.
The commanding officer estimated he faced at least three Japanese battalions with artillery and tank support, making the Allies’ position west of the Sungei Gemenecheh River untenable. There was no alternative but to withdraw.
By 15.15 hours, a little over five hours after the start of that day’s fighting, the Australians commenced their retreat.
A, B and D Companies withdrew along the railway line and C Company staggered back through the rubber plantation.
As Bluey Kennedy was to observe, the fact that so few men were killed ‘when perhaps some 200 men attacked several battalions of Japanese infantry supported by tanks and aircraft, is almost unbelievable. It was a relic of World War I mounted by an officer of that period.’14
In fact the overall Australian casualty rate from two days of fighting around Gemas was surprisingly low. One officer and 16 other ranks were killed, four officers and 51 others were wounded and nine men were reported missing. Equally so it was reassuring that the battalion had taken a heavy toll of the enemy.
During the first few days of the fighting in the Gemas–Segamat sector almost 8000 rounds of ammunition were fired by the 29th and 30th Batteries. The 65th Battery fired almost as many rounds in support of Indian troops who were caught up in the action and later in support of the 2/19th and 2/29th Battalions, who were forced to withdraw from Muar to Parit Sulong. The gunners were in action throughout, suffering heavy casualties in the process, but their bravery under fire almost certainly saved the lives of many more.
After the war the Japanese even went so far as to compliment the 2/30th on their courage. In Japan’s official history of the war, special mention was made of ‘the Australian troops encountered at Gemencheh–Gemas [who] fought with bravery the Imperial Japanese Army had not previously encountered’.15
It was a rare tribute and the only one paid to an Allied unit in a particular battle. At least Galleghan’s strategy had impressed the enemy.
The Battle of Gemas was a huge morale booster for the Allies, with talk in Singapore of it being a turning point in the war against the Japanese invaders. General Bennett was even moved to tell the Singapore Times that his force would not only stop the advancing horde, but put them on the defensive.
Unfortunately, it was wishful thinking. Although the men of the 8th Division, and in particular the 2/30th, had done themselves proud, they would be no match for the Japanese in the intense few days of fighting that would follow. The Battle of Muar was about to begin.
Chapter 6
KILL OR BE KILLED
It did not take long for the Japanese to set their sights on the coastal town of Muar, barely 60 miles (100 km) to the south of Gemas. They had already attacked it from the air and by 15 January Japanese troops were spotted at the northern approach to the ferry.
Sensing that the mainly Indian units in the area would not be able to put up much resistance, Bennett chose to send in his reserve battalion, the 2/29th, under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel James Robertson from Geelong, who had earned a Military Cross for his efforts during World War I. A troop of the 2/4th Australian Anti-tank Regiment was also allotted to the task.
General Percival was also worried, especially when he heard that Japanese Guards were being deployed in the Muar area. Over the next few days there were countless skirmishes and bloody confrontations as the two sides prepared for the inevitable full-scale fight.
Across on the eastern side of the peninsula at the Jemaluang crossroads, the 2/19th Battalion was waiting for orders. As the battalion’s official history puts it: ‘The whole atmosphere of Jemaluang was eerie with the very dark night under the rubber trees and the movements and mustering of the various Companies in the old camp area ready for embussing on January 18.’1
Maps and papers were distributed to the men revealing that the Japanese had arrived in force in the Muar area and that the 2/19th was being sent there to reinforce the 2/29th. It was the news they’d been waiting for.
If any man was nervous he didn’t show it, especially after Colonel Charles Anderson, their commanding officer, had a chance to chat with them.
‘There’s been a lot of talk about the fanatical fighting of the Japanese – so fanatical as to render them almost immune from fear and to make them unbeatable,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry,’ he assured them. ‘In view of the battalion’s high standards of training, they’d handle them easily and roughly.’2
Then they all sat down to a hearty breakfast. For many of the boys sitting around the tables that morning, it would be their last.
‘It would have been hard to believe that so many of the men with whom we were talking and joking during that early morning meal would be killed in action during the next few days,’ the 2/19th’s official history noted.3
For good or ill they were on their way. The 2/19th would be deployed at Bakri, where they would join other units in an aggressive defence of the area.
Private Chick Warden was the youngest soldier in the battalion. He shouldn’t have been there at all, given he was only 14 years and ten months when he enlisted. Now he found himself part of B Company’s 12 Platoon in 11 Section and about to enter the most dangerous phase of the war. Chick grabbed himself a Vienna loaf, tore out the centre and poured in a helping of steak and kidney stew.
‘I really enjoyed that meal for it was the last one I was to have for several days,’ he recalled.
As he climbed onto a waiting truck he remembered being ‘chased around’ by Captain ‘Horsey’ Harris and singing little ditties as they rolled on towards Kluang and finally to Bakri.4
It was a dangerous journey, made all the more hazardous by the level of Japanese aerial activity. There was really nowhere to hide along the wide open roads. This was rubber country, with a landscape of gently sloping small hills and plantations as far as the eye could see. At another time it would have seemed idyllic but today the distant rattle of gunfire did not bode well for the boys of the 2/19th Battalion. Suddenly they became alert and apprehensive. This was the real thing.
At midday they were ordered out of the trucks and took up the first of several positions. The sound of battle was getting closer. The 2/19th’s commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Anderson, who would effectively be in charge of most of the new Aussie reinforcements, moved along the line to boost morale.
‘Don’t worry chaps, it’s just tin cans and a bit of scrap the Japs are throwing about over there – it won’t hurt you,’ he lied through his teeth.
Chick and his mates were not stupid.
‘We copped quite a bit but no casualties that I know of, for we just dug deeply.’
By now the fighting was intensifying. The next morning 12 Platoon was told to move through an area of bracken fern and to catch some Japs who were known to be in the area.
‘We caught them by surprise,’ Chick admitted proudly.
By the end of the shoot-out 65 Japanese were dead and several wounded. The platoon had got off lightly in comparison with only two dead, Eddie Goss and Laurie Morris.
It was a sobering experience for youngster Chick Warden, but he learned quickly. He and his mates had a number of narrow escapes that day when wounded Japs suddenly came to life.
‘From that first engagement we learnt not to trust their wounded and shortly afterwards we received orders not to take any prisoners and to leave no wounded,’ he recalled.
The message was clear: kill or be killed.
The shelling came thick and fast. The enemy was so close Chick could see them rushing from tree to tree, sounding their bugles as they ran. First they were moving along the top of the ridge then quietly making their way back along a creek that ran across 12 Platoon’s front. They were alarmingly close and ready to pounce.
Chick’s heart was pounding as the first Jap officer, who was dressed in a smart white shirt, led his men in a seemingly suicidal charge across the creek. Everyone in 11 Section saw him at the same time and opened up. The Japanese officer went down in a hail of Bren, Tommy gun and rifle fire, his shirt disintegrating into a thousand pieces.
Night was drawing in but there would be no sleep for 12 Platoon.
‘The nips kept trying to move in and the shells and mortars kept coming over. We were learning the different sounds by now and about where things were likely to land.’5
The next morning they were back on the main road, with 12 Platoon l
eading the way. Lieutenant Howard appeared with a wounded chap from another carrier, which had been caught in a road block further up the highway – so they knew there was trouble ahead. It didn’t take long for contact to be made. About two miles (3.2 km) south of Brigade HQ two of the front scouts were shot dead and others were mown down and badly injured.
The Aussies searched the terrain for the source of the shooting and identified a machine-gun nest. Chick Warden was about to hop over a rotting tree trunk when he spied the Jap who’d just killed Tom Howard. He was brandishing a machine gun but somehow, in his haste to bring his gun to bear on the young Aussie, the weapon fell over on its legs and the Jap went with it. All Chick could see was a pair of legs, but seizing the moment he opened fire and shot the soldier in the backside.
‘Just as I had fired several rounds I was hit and felt a terrific burning pain in my left shoulder. I looked round and saw Charlie Dutton throwing a grenade into the Jap machine-gun nest. At the same time he was hit badly and his face hit the ground in front of him and he lay still.’ 6
It was a fierce exchange, and bodies from both sides were soon littering the area. Next to go down was Lieutenant Jimmy Quinlan, who had been throwing grenades at the machine-gun nest from about three metres behind Chick and was lying badly injured. They were pinned down and desperately needed support. Then as if by a miracle Colonel Anderson appeared, along with B Company’s two other platoons and Captain Frank Beverley’s A Company on the left-hand side of the road. The CO aimed his revolver at one of the few Japanese still standing and ‘bowled him over’.7
Meanwhile, the Jap whom Chick had just shot in the backside was starting to move again, raising his machine gun to his shoulder. For a few terrifying seconds the men of 12 Platoon, or those who were still capable of fighting, went on an orgy of blood-letting.
‘I’ll never forget the look on Cliff Farlow’s face when his bayonet bent on the way into the Nip gunner’s body, and to finish things off ‘Deadeye’ Dick Robinson came charging in firing his Bren from the hip …’8
Hero or Deserter? Page 8
