Kohima

by Arthur Swinson

  By 1400 hours it was all over and the Jocks were in full possession of the hill. The sappers went forward to mend the broken bridge. Captain Watari, the Battalion Commander, was later informed that an entire company had been wiped out.

  Victories solve one set of problems only to bring the next set a stage nearer. As soon as he’d reported to Grover and given the news about Bunker Hill, Hawkins went on to point out that by the time he’d picketed the increased length of road he’d have no troops left to recapture Kohima. Grover, however, realized already that the initial orders were no longer viable and, in fact, had discussed the matter with Brigadier Stevens, and asked him to put his position to the Corps Commander: to explain that it was simply impossible to build a striking force forward, while protecting forty miles of road back to Dimapur. Stopford’s reply was that he should stop worrying about his L. of C. and take a risk, but this he couldn’t regard as satisfactory. By no means all his division had arrived; there were R.A.S.C. personnel, gunners, sappers, and all kinds of specialist units still on the road. There were officers and men returning from leave and from courses. And there were still vast stocks of food and ammunition to ferry forward—hundreds of tons of it every day.

  Nevertheless, despite his own worries, Grover agreed to relieve the two companies of Dorsets, who were tethered back along the road, so that at least Hawkins should have his whole brigade under control. But when the detachments of Worcestershires and Camerons protecting the divisional artillery could be relieved it was still impossible to say.

  On the whole, the 14th was a quieter day at Kohima, though there were too odd incidents. In the morning a reconnaissance patrol from the F.S.D. found four Japs seated in a bunker, chatting. They seemed quite friendly, for some reason, and called out ‘Come here.’ Needless to say, the patrol did nothing of the sort but went back to their platoon for a Bren gun and shot the Japs dead. The second incident came at noon—just as the Camerons were waiting to go into action. A thick mist sprang up which mingled with the smoke and orders went out for all men to stand-to. Then, through the smoke came forty Japs armed with gelignite with which, under the cover of grenades, they tried to blow up some trenches manned by one of the composite companies. There was a series of explosions, and through the smoke the section under attack could be seen running, but when it reached the safety of the next line of trenches it got into fire positions and engaged the Japs with rifles and Brens. The two flanking sections joined in, and then the mortars brought down fire on the captured trenches. The Japs retreated again, leaving their dead strewn over the area.

  There were no major attacks for the first night in a week, a relief for which the garrison were profoundly thankful.

  On the 15th, the sappers of 208 Field Company, attached to 5th Brigade, were out on Bunker Hill at first light, removing booby traps and collecting up arms, equipment, and personal possessions off the bodies. The staff captain, seeing this assorted junk, wrote:

  ‘There were piles of photographs, curiously enough not of wives or families but of military groups and mass parades; also small parties of men in civilian clothes, big, leering and evil… some with such a lack of brow as to seem sub-human. The odd geisha girl smiled up at us too; expensively gowned, groomed, and painted à la Max Factor…. The sappers looked through the photographs with great curiosity, bursting with laughter when they found a “filthy” one. There were diaries, pamphlets, and English phrase books. I saw: “Is this water fit to drink?” and “Have you any cattle in the village?” opposite Japanese translations. There were soldiers’ pay-books too, surprisingly like ours in character. One sapper, seeing a figure entered in red, exclaimed: “My God, the little bugger’s in debt!”’

  The Intelligence people and translators couldn’t take quite such a frivolous view of this material. As John Grover wrote: ‘It includes a tremendous amount of valuable maps, documents, and equipment… more than the “I” staff can handle.’ One thing was established immediately, however: the troops on Bunker Hill were from the 1st Battalion 13 8th Regiment. This, so the Intelligence Staff told Grover, accounted for their great size, as the unit came from the northern islands. Some were over six feet, which fact had very much surprised the wee Jocks. A corporal was heard asking his company commander with some indignation: ‘What’s all this about little Japs? This lot are bastard big ones!’

  At 1100 hours on the 15th the Dorsets made contact with 161st Brigade and, soon afterwards, Hawkins went up to Jotsoma to see Warren. Any criticisms of 5th Brigade’s lack of speed were left unexpressed for the moment, and Warren gave a description of the battle for Bunker Hill, as seen from his viewpoint. He had a grandstand seat and was very impressed with the weight of the artillery concentration. He then went on to speak of the plight of the Kohima garrison. Hawkins writes: ‘He was deeply anxious about the Royal West Kents who all this time had been hanging on to Garrison Hill… they now had something like 250 wounded men inside the perimeter.’ Hawkins couldn’t help Warren with his own brigade as it was now committed to other tasks. However, at 1500 hours John Grover arrived and discussions immediately began to devise a plan to clear up the whole situation in the centre of Kohima. The 1st Royal Welch Fusiliers (it was agreed) would be put under Warren’s command, with a view to carrying out a relief operation with the 1st/1st Punjab the following day, 2nd Division Artillery giving support. Once the relief had been accomplished, 6th Brigade, under Brigadier Shapland, would be responsible ‘for re-establishing the Kohima area’. Grover then departed, leaving Warren to work out his plan in detail.

  The 15th was a fairly quiet day so far as the Kohima Garrison was concerned; but in the Jotsoma box things got quite hilarious when the R.A.F. air-drop started about four o’clock. Gaily coloured parachutes came floating down, bringing 3.7 howitzer ammunition right on to the gun positions. The Indian troops thought this was a great lark and went scampering about happily, retrieving the ammunition and stacking it by the guns. And when another load came down by Brigade headquarters, causing the 2nd Division recce party to scatter in all directions, they roared with laughter.

  All this day the regiments of the 2nd Division were moving forward to Zubza; the Royal Norfolk, the Royal Berkshires, the Durham Light Infantry. The Royal Welch Fusiliers were already established there and engaged in minor actions with parties of Japanese, who were still filtering down the division’s right flank. After dark, a patrol under Lieutenant Hill bumped a party of the 13 8th Regiment on the road. The Japanese officer went for Hill with his sword, but the subaltern was ready for him and killed him with a burst from his Sten. Later it was found that the officer had been decapitated and his head removed.

  On the whole, the 15th April marked a change of atmosphere so far as the 2nd Division was concerned. The party feeling was over—but so was the ‘flap’. ‘There is a new air of confidence abroad today,’ an officer noted. ‘The troops feel that their General has got the situation in hand. Instead of shooting us off in penny packets, he can use us as a striking force.’

  The 16th didn’t open so happily. To begin with, captured Jap documents indicated an intention to hold the ridge running north of Kohima, through Merema and Cheswema. This meant that he would be overlooking the road all the way from Kohima to Zubza, across the river valley, and therefore that Grover’s L. of C. had now become his front line. This was, of course, an absurd tactical situation which would obviously have to be countered as soon as possible. If the Japs managed to get any considerable strength of artillery on Merema Ridge, the whole forward build-up would be jeopardized.

  When he’d heard Warren’s plan for the relief of the Kohima Garrison, Grover didn’t like it. As he said: ‘I found several flaws in the plan, particularly as regards time for the recce by the units of 6th Brigade involved, and the lack of adequate provision for the security of the right flank of the brigade….’ An excellent tactician himself, Warren could see these flaws, and appreciated the risks involved, but he considered that the plight of the garrison was such that the latter mu
st be accepted. For a while he argued strongly, urging Grover to let the relief go ahead that day, but Grover was adamant, and so it was postponed till the 17th.

  This news came to Richards, Laverty, and the garrison as a bitter disappointment. Though they’d had a short respite from major attacks, and the R.A.F. were dropping water and supplies, some of which fell inside the perimeter, the troops were exhausted; and the plight of the wounded, still lying in the open, still suffering the ordeal of shell-fire and mortar fire, was almost beyond describing. All eyes had been focused on the road, searching for a glimpse of the relieving column, and when, in the afternoon, the sun began dipping towards Mount Pulebadze, and it became obvious that no one would come that day and another night of torment must be endured, the tension (to quote Peter Steyn) ‘had reached such a pitch that an outlet had to be found’. This was organized by Major Callistan who now held the D.C.’s bungalow sector, with a composite company of Assam Rifles and Assam Regiment men, and took the form of a grenade raid across the tennis court. On the far side of this the Japs had established a machine-gun post amongst the trees, which had been harassing the forward troops for some time, and if it could be wiped out life would be somewhat easier. As the light failed, Sepoy Wellington Massar climbed on to the billiard-table in the club to give himself a good field of fire and began firing bursts with his Bren. As a second Bren joined in from the flank, four men, led by Naik Dilhu Angami, rushed forward holding grenades with the pins extracted. Covering some thirty yards before the Japs realized what was happening, they hurled their grenades into the machine-gun pit, then sprinted back again. But, unfortunately, the enemy in surrounding posts recovered rapidly and returned Sepoy Wellington’s fire. Then his Bren jammed, and as he struggled to free it he was hit and fell from the billiard-table on to the floor. But with great courage he cleared the fault and went on firing through window till the grenade party were back again. For this action he was awarded the Indian Distinguished Service Medal, but unfortunately died of his wounds a month later.

  The night of the 16th was dark and later turned to rain. Having attacked unsuccessfully in the D.C.’s bungalow area, the enemy switched his attention to the F.S.D., at the southern end of the perimeter. Here two companies of the Royal West Kents were attacked by wave after wave of Japs and, completely out-numbered, gave ground after heavy hand-to-hand fighting. It was obvious to Richards that some of the Royal West Kents would have to be relieved, so he sent up two platoons of the Assam Rifles and one from the Assam Regiment. They were very tired, like the Royal West Kents, but had not been shelled and mortared to the same extent. With these troops ‘Bruno’ Brown put in a counter-attack and some of the lost position was reoccupied, but the Japs remained dangerously near the top. While possession of the F.S.D. was being disputed, Colonel Keene and the Assam Rifles on I.G.H. Spur were attacked, but they held their line without great difficulty and when daylight came twenty-four bodies were counted in front of the perimeter. Somehow, the garrison had survived another night. Fervently they prayed it would be the last of the siege.

  But it wasn’t to be. While the Royal West Kents and the Assam Rifles were under fire, the Royal Welch Fusiliers of 6th Brigade, who had relieved the Rajputs on the high ground to the south of the road junction at Lancaster Gate, were attacked and two sections were overrun, the men in these being taken prisoner. Fortunately, a subaltern called Callaghan was on hand and, using a covered way round the left flank, he staged a counter-attack which completely surprised the enemy, who were all killed. To their immense relief, the prisoners found themselves free again. However, some confusion remained on the ridge during the night, and when Grover saw Warren on the morning of the 17th it was obvious that the latter was now worried about his right flank, and had decided ‘to modify his plan for the relief of Kohima, by limiting offensive action to the close picketing of the road’. He was still, of course, desperately anxious about the garrison and had great fears that they might be overrun that corning night. Grover was less anxious, having received a misleading message that the garrison ‘was firm and in good heart’. So the relief was put off another day.

  This was another blow to the garrison and far worse than the previous postponement. Many of the men were almost at their last gasp, their morale was sapped by constant shelling and lack of sleep, apart from the desperate fighting each night. They may even have come to the conclusion that what Richards and their officers had told them was lies, that help would never come. As an officer of the Royal West Kents has recorded: ‘No one had had an opportunity to wash or shave since the 5th April and very little chance of sleep since then….’ Peter Steyn of the Assam Regiment says: ‘Many were the anxious questions being asked. “Sahib, how long do you think we will have to stay here? Do you think we can hold out?”’ The officers had been answering these questions with a bland certainty, but now even they were beginning to doubt. ‘Courage,’ as Slim has said, ‘is expendable’; and so far as the garrison of Kohima was concerned, the reservoir was nearly empty.

  If the situation was critical for the British and Indians it was difficult also for the Japanese. Sato was somewhat surprised at the tenacity of the Kohima garrison and at the failure of his men to subdue it. Already his losses were large, and steadily mounting each day, which meant that the longer Kohima defied him the fewer men he’d have to capture it with. Also he was feeling the pressure of Warren’s brigade on his flank and knew that another formation was entering the field against him. According to his intelligence reports it was ‘arriving at the rate of a battalion a day’; and he could assess the growing weight of artillery himself. Another problem Sato was having to face was that his long, tenuous supply line from the Chindwin seemed to be drying up. Ammunition, food, supplies were coming through fitfully and in smaller quantities; and protests to Mutaguchi at 15th Army headquarters had so far produced no coherent explanations, nor any action. Already units were beginning to kill off their mules for food. Altogether then the situation was that if he were to succeed in taking Kohima at all, it must be now. The next attack must be the last.

  Mutaguchi, though still confident, realized that the attack had lost its initial impetus both at Kohima and Imphal, and the battle had settled down to a hard slogging match. The cool withdrawal of the British and Indian forces and their defence of Imphal had impressed him; since 1942 they had improved beyond measure. Nevertheless they were fighting in their last ditch; and only eight miles separated his men from Imphal. Pondering the problem as to how he could achieve a break-through with maximum speed, Mutaguchi considered the idea of robbing Sato of a regiment. This would undoubtedly render Sato’s task much more difficult; but, on the other hand, he had already captured over three-quarters of Kohima Ridge, and the garrison were penned in an ever-shrinking circle. Whether their collapse came in two days’ time or in ten, it didn’t matter; the British would still not be able to reinforce Imphal. But if Miyazaki were to fling a regimental group at the northern tip of the Imphal perimeter, this might make all the difference. The scales, now evenly balanced, might suddenly swing to the Japanese advantage. Sending for a staff officer, Mutaguchi ordered him to draft the necessary signal.

  On the night of the 17th a heavy artillery barrage came down on the F.S.D., and the perimeter in that sector disintegrated. Suffering heavy casualties, the Indian troops evacuated the positions and the Japanese began feeling their way forward, in small parties at first, then in strength. Running back, the Indians had gone through the positions of the Royal West Kents and some of their men began to panic. But their N.C.O.s soon had them in hand, and as the Japanese came on they were met by a murderous small arms fire, and went to ground. After a short pause they began sending over a shower of grenades and fired phosphorus bombs at the huts on Kuki Piquet to set them alight. Then, leaping to their feet, and screaming at the top of their voices, they surged on again, but the defenders still held firm. As the noise of battle raged, and the hill was covered with a baleful light, C.S.M. Haines of the Royal West Kents, thou
gh blinded by a shell burst, stayed with his men shouting encouragement and urging them to hold fast. When the fighting died down in one sector, he would ask to be led to another, and so he went on with fantastic heroism till a burst of machine-gun fire caught him in the face and he fell back dead. Meanwhile, the company commanders were plugging holes wherever they appeared, sending a section here and a section there. The situation was more desperate than it had ever been, and men were not only watching their front but listening to the firing on their flanks, praying the Japs hadn’t broken through there. Several times that night Colonel Keene on I.G.H. Spur thought the game was up and expected to see the Japanese come running over Garrison Hill to take his positions in the rear. But though the roar of guns and grenades was deafening, and the glare kept sweeping across the shrinking area of ground, somehow the perimeter still held.

  Then, at 0230 hours, an attack came in on Kuki Piquet and that was lost. The troops, who had stood so much, could apparently stand no more, and no officers, no N.C.O.s could hold them to their posts. As Richards realized at once, the garrison was now within a millimetre of defeat; from Kuki Piquet the Japanese could launch a thrust on Garrison Hill. Luckily, the Mortar Sergeant of the Royal West Kents realized the danger too. Though wounded in the jaw, he obtained Laverty’s permission to move his mortar platoon to a new site, then assembled the necessary ammunition, and brought down a concentration on Kuki Piquet. But this took time, and at any moment it seemed that the Japanese must come screaming down the hill, and it would all be over. For some reason, however, perhaps amazed at their own success, they stayed where they were; and then the mortars opened up and the situation was saved. But it had been a horrible night. Richards wrote: ‘The shelling was the heaviest and most concentrated we’d had. How my own headquarters and the Royal West Kents’ headquarters escaped direct hits, I don’t know, but they did.’ When he walked out next morning to find what was left of his command, he found trench after trench filled with British and Indian dead. He knew without any shadow of doubt that unless relief came within twelve hours it would be too late.