Malayan Spymaster

by Boris Hembry

  My CF guide and interpreter, who knew as much English as I knew Arakanese, was a wily old bird, a local man who knew the area from childhood, so we were able to move under cover of high bunds (banked-up earth to control water courses) and the occasional clump of forest. Our entry into the little islands of habitation in the padi fields was always carried out with extreme caution as any one of them could have been harbouring a Jap patrol and we would have been sitting ducks. One or two CFs would discard their weapons – usually a Boer War rifle – and walk openly into a village and, over a cup of tea in the shop, would question the onlookers who always gathered around a stranger, concerning the whereabouts of any Japanese. When they were satisfied that the coast was clear the rest of us would move in. The village elders would usually provide us with the information we required to build up a picture of the enemy’s movements and routine. If we thought there to be an opportunity of employing casual agents we would give the headman money with instructions to send a man into known Japanese-held villages to scout around and to return with all the information he could glean. Payment terms were strictly cash on delivery, as we were well aware that the enemy were playing the same game and that several Arakanese were double agents, so we became adept very quickly in discerning which information was genuine and which was planted or merely fabricated. On the whole the system worked well.

  When we arrived at a village, whether during the day or night, we always forbade anyone to leave without our express permission, on pain of death. I only know of one instance when a villager disobeyed our orders and was subsequently executed, as he had been observed by a CF talking to a Jap patrol commander. On the whole the Arakanese much preferred the British to the Japanese although there was always the risk of someone falling to their blandishments, usually anti-colonial in nature, and giving us away. But most realised that British rule was more benign than Japanese and any who did work for the enemy would have done so for the money or for fear of retribution on their families. My first patrol was uneventful. We saw no Japs face to face but heard them moving around from time to time and laid up under cover until their patrols had passed by, sometimes very closely. I had several meetings with agents, received their reports, and paid out monies owed. I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Memories of nights in the open under the stars, with the now familiar smell of cow dung, wood smoke, curries and spices, remain with me still. On the quiet nights out on patrol the war seemed miles away. After four days we returned to base and I made my report. I had a feeling, although this was never confirmed by Donald, that he had sent me off on my first patrol to a relatively quiet area – if anywhere in Arakan could have been considered quiet in those early days. The Jap, with their command of the air, continually strafed and bombed the 14th Indian Division’s forward positions and their patrols if caught in the open. It was not until towards the end of the year, when we had built a few forward air strips, that we saw our own Hurricanes and Spitfires overhead. It was quite extraordinary the difference to morale that a few of one’s own planes overhead made to those of us on the ground.

  Because of my posting to Burma the steady flow of mail from home had dried up and months went by without my receiving a single letter, which was very disappointing. Strangely enough no one else was receiving letters either, and an air of gloom set in. Soon after my arrival Donald appointed me adjutant, despite my frequent absences on patrol. There were very few duties other than preparing the wage packets for the CFs and agents, sending and receiving the occasional signals, and dealing with queries from HQ. One day shortly after my appointment a large bulky envelope arrived from Cox’s Bazaar. Donald threw it over to me, unopened, with the words, ‘Put it in the trunk and if anything requires an answer it will answer itself in due course.’ I did this for at least two months without any recriminations from HQ. Then one day, having nothing better to do, I decided to go through the tin trunk just to see what it was we had failed to deal with. I slit open one of the large envelopes and out fell at least a dozen letters from home. It was the same with all the other envelopes; each member of our unit having at least six. There were one or two official-looking missives, and these were returned to the trunk unopened. Not much was said by anyone for the next few hours as we read and re-read our letters and assimilated all the latest news from home. Thenceforth all such envelopes were opened as soon as received.

  Towards the end of July 1942 Colonel Donald received word that it was intended to clear the enemy out of the Mayu Peninsula and to capture Akyab Island. V Force was ordered to step up its intelligence-gathering activities, to garner as much information as possible regarding Jap dispositions, numbers, units, supply lines and even the names of their senior officers. We doubled our patrols and were away for at least a week at a time, penetrating deeper into enemy-held territory. One morning I led my patrol out of the bush on to the bank of a deep chaung, looking for somewhere to cross, when we came under machine-gun fire from the other bank. We took cover, returned fire, and for about five minutes there was a real old-fashioned Guy Fawkes Night between us and the Jap section which we could see in the undergrowth opposite. We suffered no casualties and I doubt very much whether they did either for, apart from my submachine gun, we only had my CFs’ old rifles which would have been hard put to reach the other side of the river, let alone to hurt anyone. I called cease-fire and waited to see what happened. As nothing did, after 10 minutes or so we withdrew and enjoyed a breakfast of chappatis and cold tea. I decided to abort that particular part of our recce as I was certain that the Japs we had engaged would have been greatly reinforced and on the look out for us.

  It was on returning from one such patrol that Donald called me to his basha and, after discussing my report, said it was imperative that we got information about the defences of Maungdaw and that one of his old agents had found his way to us from that very village. I have the advantage of having in my possession a report marked ‘TOP SECRET’ – so secret that I see it was circulated to twenty-nine different recipients, including GHQ Eastern Army, IV and XV Corps, and numerous divisions and brigades – and I quote from it:

  The Brigadier [Felix-Bill] has just returned from Arakan with much information concerning the defences of the Maungdaw area. The GOC wished to thank personally the officers of V Force for the work done and excellent intelligence produced. This was mainly due to the excellent and often dangerous exploits of Lieutenants Hembry and Foster. In spite of extreme fatigue, fever and other ailments these officers were constantly going into Maungdaw and other defended places under the nose of the enemy and returning with the desired results. The information given by their agents always proved to be correct.

  An example is given below in an extract from a report by Lt Col Donald, commanding V Force in this area.

  It was ‘Dick Turpin’, a V Force agent who kept us informed by letter and hand drawn maps of the gun positions of the enemy. Such was the importance of this information that quite a number of these were immediately checked by Lt Hembry and found to be correct.

  Donald was adept at choosing code names for our agents – one was called ‘General Barebum’ – and these were used – like CF – in all our reports. Dick Turpin was the son of a schoolmaster and so spoke limited English, and had been known to Donald for several years.

  In view of the attack being planned Donald thought it absolutely essential that I personally checked the information provided by Dick Turpin, as it was doubted whether the sketches that he had made of the Jap strong points and positions were accurate enough for the RAF bombers and the Army’s 25 pounders to pinpoint. Thus it was that about 10 o’clock on a most beautiful full moonlit night a small native canoe, paddled by an Arakanese, could have been seen gliding silently down a chaung towards Maungdaw. Closer inspection would have revealed a large English subaltern stretched out full length in the bottom of the canoe, admiring the sheer beauty of the sky above and remembering the lines learnt at school:

  The moon shines bright – in such a night as this,

>   When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,

  And they did make no noise; in such a night,

  Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls,

  My plan was to make for Dick Turpin’s house, which he shared with his wife and parents. This was on the outskirts of Maungdaw and close to the river. From there we would sally forth, under cover of darkness, to pinpoint the critical defences. The chaung was only about 50 yards wide so we were close to the enemy and I expected a challenge any moment. But the Japs did not seem to be keeping a very good lookout, perhaps because they did not believe a lone British officer would have the impudence to penetrate so deep inside their territory. We drew into the bank when we came within sight of the village and tied up. Dick Turpin went ashore and, when he was satisfied that we had been unobserved, beckoned me and together we walked along the path that led from the river to the village. When we reached a small plantation of fruit trees I stayed behind in cover whilst he went forward and knocked on the door of a small bungalow. After a moment or two the door was opened a few inches and a face peered out. A moment later Dick Turpin returned to collect me and we were inside the house. By the light of the oil lamps I could see there were four others in the room and I was introduced to Turpin’s mother, father and another relative. They chatted for a few minutes in Arakanese, looking in my direction. Then the father turned to me and in very good English said I was most welcome and that I must join them in a meal. As it was now well after midnight I said that I did not wish to cause them any trouble and anyway would not the fact that the lights were burning, even behind shuttered windows, arouse Jap suspicions? The father said no; most householders kept their lamps burning, and that the opposite would be true.

  It turned out that it was Dick Turpin’s father who had drawn the maps, so I cross-examined him closely and got him to draw in more features, such as large trees, prominent buildings and other outstanding landmarks by which the RAF could the more easily identify their targets. Having come so far I thought that I might as well check one or two sites on the ground myself. As there was a curfew our movements had to be very discreet. Turpin went outside to scout around and returned a few minutes later to say the coast was clear. I followed him up the road, keeping to the shadows. Having gone only about 50 yards we spotted a group of Japanese sitting around a table under a tree, playing a dice game in the light of a hurricane lamp. Turpin whispered that they were the night watch. We skirted them and had covered another 100 yards when he pointed to a clump of trees out of which a gun barrel protruded. Further on was another gun pit with what looked like a Lewis gun, and a nearby building which was obviously a unit headquarters. I noted the unit sign by the door and decided that I had seen enough. When we got back to Dick Turpin’s father’s house I examined the map again and saw that the three positions which I had seen were correctly plotted on the map.

  We said farewell to this gallant little family, made our way back to where we had hidden the canoe, and paddled away. As it was now nearly daybreak we drew into the bank once we well clear of the village, hid the canoe and ourselves in nearby undergrowth, enjoyed a breakfast of chappatis and cold tea, and settled down to rest up for the day. I was to take the first watch, but before Turpin had closed his eyes we heard chatter and laughter coming towards us, on the opposite bank. We watched as half a dozen Japanese soldiers, all armed but obviously off-duty, with a couple of Burmans, squatted by the chaung and started to fish. They stayed for an hour or so before deciding that they had caught enough and returned whence they came. We moved deeper into the undergrowth, took it in turns to sleep and keep watch, and set out at dusk for home.

  The next morning, having reported my findings to Donald, he told me that he had an unpleasant task for me. In the course of the previous few weeks we had been joined by two Burma Government officials, Colonel Phelips and Sheik Mohammed, the latter a charming Indian who had been educated in England. They were preparing to take over the civil administration of Arakan as officers administrating recaptured territories, or some such title, after our attacks on Maungdaw and Buthidaung had succeeded. It seemed that our forces had captured three Arakanese who had been tried in a court set up by Phelips and found guilty not only of spying but also of terrorism. The three had led the Japs to a village where they knew two agents of ours were hiding, and they, all their relations, and the village elders had been shot. After which the three had threatened to accuse the remaining villagers of spying for the British unless they complied with their demands for money. They had been sentenced to death, and the executions set for that very day.

  As I listened I realised what my unpleasant task was to be. Donald confirmed that, as adjutant, I was to take a dozen CFs to form the firing squad. I asked him whether he was going to witness the executions. He said no, he had important reports to complete. I said, ‘Colonel, I remember you saying not all that long ago that you would never ask your officers to do anything you wouldn’t do.’ Donald looked at me fiercely and said, ‘Hembry, you bastard. Okay. I will witness the executions.’

  I formed up the firing squad and we had a few practice shots at paper targets pinned on to trees. I was very worried about their poor aim and the efficiency of their very old rifles. Promptly at six that evening the condemned men were marched out on to a patch of grass behind the camp, with their hands tied behind them. A Burmese priest asked each of them whether they had anything to say. They had not. I blindfolded each of them, pinned a piece of paper over where I thought the heart was, withdrew and ordered the firing squad, drawn up about 20 yards away, to take aim – four to each condemned man – and gave the order to fire. As I had feared, the executioners’ aim was poor and the condemned fell to the ground, groaning. I asked the dresser, who was standing by, exactly where the heart was. ‘Half an inch below the left nipple, Sahib.’ With my Tommy gun I put three rounds into each man on the ground, and that was that. The bodies were taken away for burial with full religious rites, and Colonel Donald and I repaired to the mess in a sombre mood for several burra pegs.

  Shortly after this I collapsed with another bout of malaria. The MO injected me with a large shot of quinine and I was taken back by motor launch to Bawli Bazaar, where I recovered in about a week, just in time to hear the big attack go in. The battle lasted only for a couple of days, but we were close enough to the front line to be deafened by the shelling and the sounds of the RAF dropping bombs on Maungdaw. A day or so later I accompanied the colonel to a Divisional conference. General Lloyd, a fine soldier who was to be killed later in North Africa, reported that the advance had gone well and that his objectives had been taken. The attacks had been made both sides of the Mayu range, along the coast and further east down the Kaladan valley. Maungdaw had been occupied without a shot being fired. The Jap intelligence had been good, for they were aware that we had superior forces, and had withdrawn. They re-took Maungdaw a couple of months later, by which time I had left V Force. By the end of the year the British forces were spread out along the coastal plain just north of Donbaik and still about 10 miles short of the end of the Naf Peninsula and Akyab Island, the prime objectives of the attack.

  Few officers at the conference knew about V Force, and some of those present, extremely smartly turned out, viewed Donald and me with a mixture of amazement and contempt. I was not surprised. Donald was dressed as usual and I in the same way but in old plimsolls and with no headgear at all. After a little while, a young immaculately dressed staff captain from a British regiment turned to me and whispered, ‘Who is that old bugger in the Kitchener helmet?’ I drew myself up to my full height and whispered back, trying to appear shocked at the impertinence, ‘That old bugger is my colonel!’

  Christmas 1942 saw V Force comfortably housed in a large bungalow in Maungdaw, overlooking the maidan. We celebrated with the usual dinner and lots of liquid refreshment before tidying up the office and quarters in preparation for a visit by General Wavell, the commander-in-chief, Lt General Irwin, Eastern Army commander, Major General Lloyd
, Fourteenth Indian Division commander, and various other senior officers, scheduled for Boxing Day or soon after. General Wavell had expressed a wish to inspect V Force officers and to thank them for their efforts. The assembled unit consisted of just Brigadier Felix-Bill, Colonel Donald, Gretton Foster and myself: the others were away on patrol. I briefed the mess orderly, whom I had christened Archibald because his real name was totally unpronounceable, to be prepared to produce tea if required, and to serve the top brass in order of seniority, which I would indicate. At that time I was wholly ignorant of the badges of rank of anyone above brigadier, so would have to try to recognise the faces.

  Shortly after tiffin on the appointed day the three generals flew in to the little airstrip and were met by Felix-Bill in our new jeep, and driven back to our bungalow. Donald and his two subalterns were lined up and introduced to the generals. I was particularly pleased to be able to talk to Wavell whom I greatly admired. It was apparent that General Irwin or the Brigadier had briefed him about my experiences in Malaya, for he asked me some very pertinent questions and we talked for a good five minutes. The C-in-C then made a short speech, congratulating the V Force officers and agents, and confirmed that I had been mentioned in despatches and in due course could wear the appropriate insignia. Colonel Donald then told me, again in front of everyone, that I could put up my second pip as a first lieutenant. I must say, I went to sleep that night feeling rather proud.