While dealing with behind-the-lines matters, and especially with correspondence, it may be worthwhile mentioning the flood of paper which hit the division from behind, once news had percolated through to the various Commands that it was in action. At one sticky moment in the battle, the staff captain 5th Brigade noted that the following mail reached him by mule column:
1. The Pay Office wanted to know the authority by which the brigade paid wet sweepers Rs25 per month at Galunche in 1943.
2. No. 83 Sub-area wanted to know what the brigade did with three tables on loan at Mahableshwar in October 1942.
3. Legal Aid wanted Private Smith speaking to as he wasn’t writing to his wife. [Smith had been dead three weeks.]
4. Divorce papers in respect of Private Brown came back as one deletion hadn’t been initialled.
5. The Railway Accounts Branch wrote to say that when Sergeant Jones travelled from Poona to Ooticomund in March 1943 the warrant wasn’t marked ‘by the quickest route’. They were therefore charging by the longest route and would like Rs57 As8.
6. Forces Radio wanted two men from Coventry to broadcast home.
7. Two cooks were wanted for a cooking course.
There were also, in this batch, three courts-martial at various stages of development, nine pamphlets, a brochure on how to make apple dumplings, and the War Establishments for most unlikely units. As the battle dragged on, no opportunity offered itself to staff officers and adjutants for dealing with such paper matters, their volume increased to appalling dimensions. The issue tin boxes were crammed to suffocation, and sandbags were then stuffed full. A favourite dodge was to leave these in the open, hoping that they’d be destroyed by enemy action; but the curious thing was that however thick the mortar shells came down, and whatever else was hit, the paper remained inviolate. And when the boxes or sacks were put on mules, they were the ones which never went over the khud. (Conversely, mules carrying rum or anything important were always the most accident-prone.)
Apart from such unwelcome paper as that listed above, the battle, of course, generated its own. Apart from situation reports, and intelligence summaries, there were casualty returns, all the documentation involved in promotions, citations for awards, and letters to relatives of the fallen. More than one commanding officer, after a hard day’s fighting, would swear horribly as his adjutant brought a stack of paper work into his dug-out. If a brigade or a unit was out of touch for even a few days, the mail multiplied fantastically. It was not uncommon for 5th Brigade to receive fifteen to twenty mule loads of it, and 4th Brigade, after their chukka round Pulebadze, had some tons. At all times tremendous efforts were made to get mail to the forward troops.
Many officers had standing orders for newspapers and magazines which arrived with amazing regularity. Devotees to The Times crossword carried on as usual, though a few days in arrears; what infuriated them more than anything, though, was when the issues crossed, and they received the solution to a puzzle before the puzzle itself. Sometimes, if a clue seemed more than usually tantalizing, these devotees would risk life and limb to consult a brother officer in a neighbouring slit trench. A newspaper which came daily and free was Seac, the 14th Army paper edited by Frank Owen, with its ebullient leader headed ‘Good morning’. It is fashionable to make fun of these wartime service papers now, and certainly, if glanced at today, their tone does strike one as somewhat brash, and artificially hearty. But Seac was doing a specialized job, and on the whole it did it very well.
These comforts were very welcome and much-prized; but they were few, and, now the rain had set in, life was very uncomfortable indeed. About this time an officer wrote:
‘Apart from flooding roads and rendering jeep tracks unjeepable, it has a bad effect on the morale of the troops. The infantry, as usual, get the worst of it. Living in water-logged slit trenches, their boots sodden, their food, when they get it, cold and mushy, life rapidly becomes intolerable. In the forward areas, groundsheets and gas capes are the men’s only protection and they are useless against the torrential rains. The men are therefore compelled to sleep in wet blankets on the slushy ground. It’s amazing how they keep going.’
The cooks, as in most armies, were a tower of strength, and whenever the tactical situation permitted would go forward to their companies and prepare a hot meal. Warm food inside one’s belly in these circumstances is one of the most marvellous feelings a man can have. The rations themselves remained remarkably varied, even when delivered by air-drop. On the 14th May, for example, the semi-beleaguered 5th Brigade had the following for lunch: sardines, beetroot, peas, tinned pears, biscuits, butter, jam, and tea. In the evening there was a stew with meat and potatoes. This couldn’t be called luxurious, but, compared to the food British troops have endured in previous wars, it was plentiful and varied.
The plight of the wounded has been touched on before, especially with reference to 4th Brigade. Though there was a good deal of rain before they finished their ‘hook’ and attacked G.P.T. Ridge, conditions then were nothing like as bad as they became later on, when the rain poured down steadily, day after day. By then 4th Brigade and 6th Brigade fortunately had a firm link to the road, but 5th Brigade, up in Naga Village, still had to rely on the Nagas and the precipitous trail across the Zubza valley. Of the situation in mid-May, the staff captain wrote:
‘…having been patched up at the A.D.S., the wounded must endure the nightmare three-hour journey down the precipitous slope into the nala, and across it, and up on to the road. This, on a swaying stretcher carried by four faithful Nagas, often as not under mortar fire. Then a forty-three-mile trip by ambulance down the tortuous road into the torrid heat of Dimapur. Then later on a two-day journey by train to Shillong or Chittagong. Then God knows what. Am continually amazed at the patience of the troops; they he still beneath the blankets, white with pain, but uncomplaining. It’s a miracle that so many survive.’
The trail across the Zubza valley, it should be noted, was not only used to bring wounded down, but to take supplies up. Usually trouble was taken to see that the two columns didn’t meet, but on at least one occasion they did. The track at this point was narrow, and flanked on one side by a cliff face and the other by the khud. Understandably the doctor leading the wounded column wanted the mules to go back but that was impossible, the track being too narrow for them to turn. The only solution, therefore, was to ask the Pathans to edge their mules against the cliff face, and hope they’d stay docile, without lashing out with their hind legs; then to see if the Nagas could squeeze past them. As there were about seventy mules, this meant that each wounded man had seventy chances of being kicked to his death, which rather lengthened the odds against the whole party surviving. However, the Pathans spoke gently to their charges in a language they understood, and slowly the column quietened down. Then, at a signal from the column commander, the grinning Nagas eased forward with the first stretcher, gripped the cliff edge with their toes, and shuffled happily along it. Then the next party came… and the next. Within half an hour all the wounded were past the mule column and on their way towards the nala.
At Kohima this kind of crisis and improvisation occurred almost daily in the business of evacuating wounded; and every time, the Nagas did what was demanded of them. How many lives were owed to the courage and skill of these remarkable hillmen will never be known; but the figure must certainly run into thousands.
A vivid and accurate description of the life of an ordinary Jock in the 5th Brigade box, up at Naga Village, was written, while still in action, by Major W. B. Graham, of the Camerons.
‘He is awakened by a shake, while it is still dark. He is fully clothed, and probably has been for weeks. He does not sit up because the roof of the fox-hole is only two feet from the floor. Instead, he slides forward to his stand-to post, where the floor has been deepened. The other two or three occupants of the fox-hole are doing the same thing, pushing aside the slightly sodden blankets they have been sharing. One is already awake, as he was the last
on ‘stag’ or sentry. If possible, there should never be fewer than four in a fox-hole, or stag comes round too often. Even with four it comes round twice in a night, as it is forbidden to do more than one hour consecutively.
Equipment on, rifle or automatic in the hand, grenades ready, all are now staring out into the blackness.… In fifteen minutes it will be first light… and fifteen minutes after that it will be stand-down, that is, unless the mist fails to clear. But all being well, they can mount a single sentry at, say quarter past five, and the day has started.
No one, however, gets out of his fox-hole, though it may be cramped and hurriedly dug. Fox-holes are all inter-supporting and integral parts of a defensive position, but in a way they are independent units. There should be no movement between them by night, and as little as possible by day. One man may have to crawl outside to perch over the hole dug to meet the needs of nature. Another will be preparing the morning ‘brew’ with the aid of a Tommy-cooker, a tin with petrol or meth, as fuel. It is the only method of cooking allowed when in contact with the enemy.
The arrival of the ration columns, whether by coolie, mule, motor transport, or plane, is the main event of the day, not only because the actual rations are so important, but because along with them comes the mail, the rum issue, and Seac, the Army newspaper. Mail is received like manna, for it is the only link with another world.… In the early morning, however, the arrival of the rations is in the vague future. The first business of the day is to get organized. Then, if there is nothing doing, rest. Always rest—at any moment it may cease to be possible.…’
But to return to the main stream of events.
All day on the 6th there were meetings and discussions about the coming attack. Loftus Tottenham was more concerned than ever about his right flank, and about three o’clock went forward with Lieut.-Colonel Grimshaw (who had now taken over the 1st/1st Punjab), Lieut.-Colonel Goode, of 149th R.A.C, and John Grover, to look at the ground. It was now agreed that G.P.T. Ridge must be cleared to join with Congress Hill before the main operations for the capture of Pimple Hill and Jail Hill could be launched. After the reconnaissance was over, John Grover worked out the following plan: the Punjabs were to clear the bashas in front of their position and move forward to contact the Royal Scots on Congress Hill; a company of the Gurkhas would then pass through the Punjabs and, in co-operation with the Royal Scots, would clear G.P.T. Ridge; after that had been done the Punjabs would occupy Congress Hill; and then the Queens would capture Pimple Hill and Jail Hill. The operation was somewhat complicated, and dependent on close co-operation and accurate timing; but it was the best that could be arranged in the time.
It poured with rain all night, and the troops, bivouacked on the sodden slopes, got little sleep. The Queens especially, who had just moved forward, had a miserable time of it; and movement was more difficult than ever.
However, soon after dawn, the Gurkhas and the company of Royal Scots detailed to clear the remaining bunkers on G.P.T. Ridge began preparations for the attack. A bazooka barrage went down on the Gurkhas’ objective, from forty yards range, but had little apparent effect. P.I.A.T.s (a form of spring mortar) were tried, grenades and concentrated machine-gun fire, after which the 2-inch mortars put down a smoke screen and, under cover of this, Captain R. F. Gibson-Smith, his company officer, 2nd-Lieutenant Rae, a havildar and eight sepoys charged the first bunker. Gibson-Smith was killed and Rae wounded almost immediately, and three of the Gurkhas were knocked out also. Lieut.-Colonel Hedderwick then seems to have decided that a pincer movement would have to be launched, covered by the bazookas; and as the company had no British officers left, said he would lead the attack himself. But no sooner had he moved forward from one of the Norfolk trenches, which he was using as a command post, than his brilliant green shirt attracted a sniper’s attention, and he was shot through the chest. At this, Brigadier Goschen’s orderly (a Grenadier guardsman) jumped out of his trench, rushed forward to seize Hedderwick, and pull him into cover. Before he succeeded in doing so, however, the sniper got him too. Then Goschen ran forward, seized hold of his dying orderly and under heavy fire began dragging him back to the trench. But the inevitable happened and Goschen was shot. Robert Scott, who had been standing in the same trench, rushed to him and succeeded in carrying him back, but in a few minutes he died in Scott’s arms, without regaining consciousness.
Altogether, the Gurkhas’ attack on the bunker, gallant as it was, had led to disaster. As the men were now leaderless, an officer of 4th Brigade ordered them back.
The occupation of Congress Hill had gone according to plan and by 1100 hours, the news of the Gurkhas’ failure had not reached Loftus Tottenham or Grover. According to one account, the former said at this time that ‘he considered the 4th/1st Gurkhas were adequately dominating G.P.T. Ridge’, and agreed that the Queens should commence their advance at 1130 hours, an hour later than originally planned. So at noon the divisional artillery opened up, and for twenty-five minutes the shells roared overhead to explode on Pimple Hill, then Jail Hill. The concentration was so heavy that the whole area shook. Great columns of earth shot into the air and the trees splintered and fell. As the concentration came to an end, the Queens moved forward, ‘C Company under Major Rothery in the lead. By noon they were firm on Pimple Hill and ‘B’ and ‘D’ Companies began to advance through them for the attack on Jail Hill. The plan was to push one platoon up the right-hand side of the hill, and two platoons up the left, but these hadn’t climbed far before fire was poured at them from both flanks. The Japs still had some bunkers on the rear slopes of the D.I.S., which brought machine-gun fire to bear, and there was a minor spur running down to the south-east of G.P.T. Ridge where they were dug in too. Neither area was accessible to artillery or mortars. Inevitably the men of the Queens began falling, their bodies rolling down the bare hillside, or being caught by the tree stumps, but the rest went on with amazing courage. They sought out the bunkers and began dealing with them methodically, though the apertures were hard to find, and the extent of the defences beneath the ground they couldn’t guess. Though hit in the arm, Sergeant Burt led his men against one bunker. They captured it; and he immediately led them on to the next, but here he was hit by a grenade which the Japs had rolled down the hill. This time the wound was in the neck, but, lying on the ground, bleeding and in great pain, he shouted: ‘I’m paralysed down one side, but I can still throw grenades: let me have some.’ He then told his men to move round a flank, while he wriggled himself forward towards the bunker, so attracting the enemy’s attention by hurling grenade after grenade at them. The platoon surged forward and captured the bunker, but by the time they got back to Sergeant Burt he was dead.
Despite local successes, however, the situation was deteriorating rapidly, and it was becoming clear that if ‘D’ Company and ‘A’ Company which were now supporting them stayed on the hill much longer they would be wiped out. The Japs had brought a 75-mm. gun into action, and were shelling both Jail Hill and Pimple Hill. At 1400 hours, Major Shaw rang up his battalion commander, Lieut.-Colonel Duncombe, and said: ‘My right platoon’s held up almost at the bottom of the hill and is taking casualties. The other two platoons have reached the top but are having a terrible time, under heavy cross-fire. Only fourteen men are unwounded.’ A further report showed that ‘A’ Company’s position was just as bad; they were only a quarter of the way up the hill, but even so suffered from the devastating fire from both flanks. Duncombe reported the situation to Loftus Tottenham, who got on to the gunners and they did their best. But with the Japs dug into the reverse slopes there was nothing for it but to bring the Queens back. At 1500 hours Loftus Tottenham gave the necessary order, and the gunners succeeded in smoking out the whole area on the flanks. Slowly, and carrying their wounded, the Queens withdrew from Jail Hill and then from Pimple Hill; the failure was bitter, and costly.
At four o’clock Loftus Tottenham and Duncombe came to report to Grover, and the action was discussed. It was clear that earlie
r assessments of the position on G.P.T. Ridge had been both optimistic and inaccurate. Keeping the Japs there occupied was not enough; they would have to be wiped out. And something would have to be done, too, about the D.I.S. Loftus Tottenham was of the opinion that the bunker where Hedderwick and Goschen had been killed ‘could not be taken by mere assault… somehow it would have to be blasted out of existence.’ Grover sent a message to Robert Scott asking his advice on this point, to discover that he agreed absolutely. The bunker was covered, he said, ‘by sniper posts both behind and dug right in under Bunker Hill’. In view of this Grover arranged to send Lifebuoy flamethrowers to 4th Brigade, to see if they would help.
But there were some things worrying Scott, who was now temporarily commanding the brigade, even more than bunkers; and they were food and water. The latter was practically finished, and the troops’ rations would run out at breakfast the following morning. The trouble was that the Japs had built bunkers and sniper posts along the jungle track which had been cut to 4th Brigade, and the mule columns couldn’t get through. Grover therefore contacted Loftus Tottenham who undertook to supply a company of Gurkhas as porters and some Punjabis as escort. These were to be pushed through that evening by another route.
Arrangements were put in hand at once and the supplies brought forward to a loading point. The Gurkhas took two 2-gall0n tins each, or the equivalent in rations, and headed towards G.P.T. Ridge. Meanwhile, a liaison officer from Robert Scott reached Grover with a message, emphasizing the serious situation facing 4th Brigade. The men were very fit and cheery, this said, but definitely weakening. They hadn’t had a hot meal for ten days. Fortunately, a later message arrived to say that the supply column had got through with 100 gallons of water in tins, and rations.
Temporarily the position was saved; but if the brigade was going to find strength to clear Bunker Hill, and the remaining enemy positions down to the road, some more comprehensive arrangement obviously had to be made, and in the evening Grover called a conference to thrash things out. At this it was agreed that the sappers should cut a new mule route, under the protection of 33rd Brigade, that supplies and wire should be pushed through to the Royal Norfolk area, and casualties should be evacuated by the following evening.
Kohima Page 23
