Kohima

by Arthur Swinson

  Lastly, Grover saw Colonel Duncombe and asked him to pass his warmest thanks to all ranks of the Queens for their gallantry on Jail Hill.

  *

  The 7th May and the three days that followed were probably the bitterest time in the whole battle of Kohima. After thirty-four days and nights of close and bloody fighting, after hunger, thirst, discomfort, after appalling casualties, the enemy still held the main bastions of their position. No bombs, shells, mortars, flame-throwers, or grenades could seem to shift them. The 3.7 howitzers, which could have reached many of their positions, were silent through lack of ammunition; and no amount of railing, correspondence, argument, or anything else, could produce any. The Japs had lost thousands upon thousands of men, and reports kept saying they were weak and diseased, and running short of ammunition. But all the British, Gurkha, and Indian troops knew was that as soon as they got near a bunker, the fire poured out of it just as mercilessly as ever. The British battalions were now reduced to three or four hundred men; some had less. Few could muster four nominal rifle companies. All were desperately short of officers; and platoon commanders were almost non-existent. It would be untrue to say that the division faltered; but in these days, officers and men would sometimes look at the great ring of mountains encircling them, and wonder how on earth it could be taken, how flesh and blood could possibly stand much more… and how things would end. Everyone now had some friends buried on the black ridge of Kohima or in the hills flanking it; a good many people had lost all their friends there. Also, for every man killed, three or four had disappeared into distant hospitals and would not be seen again for months, if ever. Altogether there was a growing feeling of desolation.

  The curious thing was, though, that despite its horrors, despite its unquenchable thirst for sacrifice, Kohima Ridge still seemed to hold a fascination. Troops coming back from the dirty, flea-bitten rest camps in Dimapur would smile, even laugh, as they trudged up Garrison Hill again and saw the familiar sights. Life as it existed before the battle now seemed very, very far away; and in some perverted manner the Ridge had become the nearest thing to home.

  *

  If these were black days for the Allies, they were black, too, for General Sato, as it was quite evident that the supply system had completely broken down. In private discussions with Mutaguchi before the offensive began, he had been assured that the longest period he would have to maintain his Division in its independent role was fifty days from the 15th March, that is, till the 3rd May. In a further meeting on the 15th January with Lieut.-General Kunomura, Chief Staff Officer of 15th Army, and Major Usui, the staff officer dealing with ammunition supply, the following programme had been agreed: 15th Army would undertake to supply eight tons of ammunition per day from the beginning of the operation; it would also forward 250 tons of food and stores within the first twenty-five days, that is, between the 15th March and the 8th April. Sato told Kunomura that the rations his column was carrying with them, both on the men and the pack animals, would be exhausted by the 5th April at the latest, so supplies from 15th Army would be vital after that date. Later Sato received written confirmation of these arrangements and a confirmation that after fifty days—by which time, of course, according to Mutaguchi’s schedule, Imphal would have fallen—normal supply would commence along the Imphal road. On the 4th May, having received no assurances from Mutaguchi, Sato signalled General Kawabe direct, pointing out that 15th Army had failed in its responsibilities towards his Division and no supplies had arrived. (According to statements by Sato’s staff, the only supplies which ever did arrive were 500 artillery shells, brought in jeeps by Major K. Takata, Commander of the Field Transport Brigade, on the 21st May. Sato, it seems, questioned Takata closely about 15th Army’s intentions and asked him whether he would be given any transport. Takata replied that all the available transport had gone to 33rd Division. This statement, according to one officer, hardened Sato’s determination to act as he thought fit, even against orders.) General Kawabe, not surprisingly, did not reply to Sato’s signal but sent it on to Mutaguchi, who in turn told Sato in plain language that he must not signal Kawabe direct. He added that Sato would find food at Ukhrul, which the latter took to mean that supplies had been pushed forward to this point. What Mutaguchi meant, however, was that Sato would find food in the villages around that area, if he sent back foraging parties. When Sato realized this he became incensed and immediately drafted signals to Count Terauchi, Commander-in-Chief South East Asia, and even to Imperial Headquarters in Tokyo. At all costs he intended that the Army should realize the grave situation in which he had been placed.

  By now Sato must have realized that his chances of taking Kohima had virtually disappeared and all he could do was hang on to his positions as long as possible. With his numerous casualties, no troops were available for Manipur and the last platoons on the high ground above Jotsoma were being withdrawn to help defend the Aradura Spur. No reinforcements had come through, and he knew that none ever would do. His battalions along the Jessami track were reporting that the 23rd L.R.P. Brigade was approaching it in six columns and nothing could prevent their cutting it. The southern track from Tuphema, on the Imphal road, was still open, but in time there was the possibility that that would be cut too.

  To make matters worse, there was the complete failure of Mutaguchi and his 15th Army to capture the Imphal Plain. All the fears of Lieut.-General Yanagida and some other commanders were now being realized, and at least the suspicion must have entered Sato’s mind at this time that the whole offensive was doomed. Latest intelligence reports reaching Sato indicated that not only had the advance of the 15th and 33rd Divisions come to a standstill, they were even being pressed back. To try to get things moving again, Mutaguchi had ordered Tanaka, Yanagida’s successor, to break through into the plain, via Bishenpur. For this task, the 33rd Division had been reinforced by two infantry battalions, tanks, and infantry; and the target date was fixed for about the 20th May. Mutaguchi still exuded confidence; but it cannot be said that his plan for a new offensive enthused either Sato or anyone else. At this time Lieut.-General Hata, Assistant Chief of Staff at Imperial General Headquarters, who was visiting Burma, received pessimistic views, especially from officers in the administrative services, and later on his return to Tokyo he reported to Tojo that ‘the Imphal operations stand little chance of success’. But Tojo had just received that morning a more favourable report from Kawabe and didn’t hear Hata out.

  But to return to Kohima: though Sato unquestionably maintained command of his men, a good deal of grumbling had started among the troops, who considered that his headquarters (at Chakhabama) were too far back, and that he personally did not spend as much time as he should have done in the front line. On one occasion a soldier of the 58th Regiment, who was sent back with a message, remarked on arrival: ‘From this distance the battle seems like a dream…. You would not know it was going on.’ The extent of the feeling is hard to assess, but certainly the troops compared Sato unfavourably with Miyazaki, who made his headquarters with regiments or even battalions, and was never far from the sound of the guns. Through this close contact Miyazaki came to know large numbers of officers and N.C.O.s by name and his personality and professional ability made an enormous impression throughout the Division. The 58th almost worshipped him.

  However, whatever the dissensions or grumblings in the ranks, discipline still remained unimpaired and every position was held to the last man. It was something of a wonder to British officers to learn how few men there were in some positions. The secret was that the Japanese did not fight to their front if they could fight to a flank. This meant that they had to rely on neighbouring bunkers for the protection, that is ‘to cover them’, while they covered their neighbours. This system involved a good deal of training and discipline, and a consistently high standard in the siting of posts; but it did make the maximum use of fire power. British and Indian troops were psychologically incapable of such tactics, each man preferring to fight to his front
and remaining responsible for his own protection. Also, of course, though recognizing the need for head cover, the British hated being entombed in bunkers and liked the free use of their weapons, denied by Japanese-type bunkers. But these bunkers did allow the Japanese to bring down mortar fire on their own positions, when under attack, and time and time again drove the British and Indians from them before they could dig in. And in Burma the Jap mortarmen were the counterparts of the German machine-gunners in the First World War.

  *

  On the evening of the 8th May, Brigadier Stevens came back to 33rd Corps headquarters to report that Grover did not think he could mount a major attack against Jail Hill till the nth. Stopford immediately got on the phone to tell Grover that this wasn’t good enough; he must get on. Grover’s view was that there was no sense in sending more men to be killed on the position; the remaining bunkers on G.P.T. Ridge simply had to be dealt with first, and, as Robert Scott had affirmed, they could not be taken ‘by mere assault’. Grover’s plan was for the Gordons of the 100th Anti-tank Regiment to take a 6-pounder to pieces, get it up on to the position, and blast the bunkers out of position one by one. But before this could be done a new track would have to be constructed and a special pit dug by the sappers. This job would take twenty-four hours, that is up to the night of the 9th, and it was hoped that the bunkers would be ours by the 10th. It was also necessary to lay on an operation against the D.I.S. and F.S.D., to be co-ordinated with the Jail Hill and Pimple Hill attack. The nth, therefore, was the soonest the battle could be laid on. Still unhappy with the delay, Stopford said he would send Brigadier Wood the following morning with his ideas for a surprise attack within twenty-four hours.

  Stopford’s increasing demands for speed were understandable enough. He was expecting a visit from Slim the following day and knew that the reopening of the road was in the forefront of his mind. In fact, Slim announced that the difficulties of supplying Imphal were so great that by the end of May 4th Corps would have no reserves left. And just at that time, when more aircraft would be needed, the seventy-nine transports were due to leave for the Mediterranean front. Mountbatten might succeed in holding on to them, of course, as he had done before; nevertheless, every day that the road was cut meant a greater strain on air resources, and a greater strain on the high command. While Stopford and Slim were discussing the situation, Brigadier Wood reported back from John Grover. On examination, the latter’s plan seems to have proved more reasonable; in any event, it was accepted, Stopford noting that ‘it seemed to have a very good chance of success’.

  The generals then turned to the role of Frank Messervy’s 7th Division, which was now to start operations on the left flank, and Stopford explained that his plan was a concentric advance on Mao Songsang, the great ridge about twenty miles to the south. Messervy was to start from Naga Village and move via Chakhabama and the Kezoma-Kekrima tracks, having taken command of 161st Brigade, 33rd Brigade, and 25th Mountain Regiment. As Slim departed, Messervy arrived, and plans were discussed in more detail. But though Messervy’s advance would help a great deal with the problem of reopening the road, it couldn’t start until the battle of Kohima was over. And this prolonged engagement hadn’t even reached the last phase.

  10

  A Hole in the Centre

  At 2200 hours on the 10th, the Queens left their bivouac area to begin the approach march towards their forrning-up line, the first phase of their new attack on Jail Hill. The men were tired, even before they started, as their nights had been disturbed by Jap patrols worrying the troops in the hills above them. The weather had been good for the last twenty-four hours, but now it was turning to rain again, and the men slithered on the slippery ground, and cursed as the water trickled down their necks. The route, says Major Lowry, ‘lay through thick undergrowth, up and down hundreds of feet of steep hillside’, and though the distance was only a few miles, the journey took till just after 3 a.m. on the nth. Here they waited, with the Punjabis, who were to attack the D.I.S., on their left. The latter were in great heart, recorded Major Arthur Marment, and ‘anxious to avenge the death of the large number of the Queens lost a few days previously’. Their adjutant, Major R. A. J. Fowler, had translated a short passage from Shakespeare’s King John into Urdu—‘Come the three corners of the world in arms and we shall shock them. Naught shall make us rue’—which became: ‘Dunia ka char kunion se larne dena, aur ham log unke kafi mardenge. Kuch bhi nahin hamko assosi denge.’ This, says Marment, ‘had a most tremendous effect on the troops’.

  In the darkness and silence, the Queens and the Punjabis waited. Then (to quote Lowry again): ‘At 0440 hours it was whistle, shriek, and screech, and everything came down with a rending crash and clatter—machine-guns, anti-tank guns, artillery and mortars—a most impressive noise. The slopes to the left, above and to our right were silhouetted by the explosions in the darkness. We had one or two shots from something, which landed in the Company, one falling behind us and one in the area, but no one was hurt….’ At 0500 hours, as the barrage ceased the leading companies crossed the road and, firing from the hip as they went, the men began tackling the bunkers at the foot of the hill. The left-hand company continued to make good progress, the men crawling slowly towards the crest, but the other company found the going difficult and was pinned down. Within half an hour daylight came and things got worse. It was soon evident that the enemy positions on the reverse slopes of G.P.T. Ridge, and on F.S.D., were still held and pouring out machine-gun fire. The operation looked a repetition of the abortive affair of the 7th.

  What had happened was that despite the help of the 6-inch anti-tank gun the Norfolks had still failed to eliminate the bunkers on the tip of G.P.T. Spur. On the F.S.D. the Royal Berkshires were still fighting, but though they had captured some bunkers, with the help of pole charges, the job was slow; and the Jap positions at the top of the hill and on the reverse slope were still holding out.

  On the D.I.S., the Punjabis (supported by a company of Gurkhas) were having an equally difficult time. To the stirring music of their dhols and saranais (drums and pipes) playing ‘The Wounded Heart’, they had dashed into action, carrying their religious books with them. In the first wave went the Jats and Sikhs, their war-cries shrilling above the noise of battle, as they surged across the road ringing the D.I.S. to secure a tenuous finger-hold. Then, led by Colonel Conroy, ‘Raj’ Fowler, and Whitmarsh Knight, the Khataks and Punjabi Mussulmen went through them, and got up on to the hillside. Marment, who, seeing that the companies were losing men, went forward to help, says: ‘It was extremely difficult… we were being hit from F.S.D. and Jail Hill and had taken 130 casualties. It was impossible to move because snipers seemed to be everywhere, and we could not make much impression on the main bunker.… We were digging with our hands, grabbing every tin to fill, and getting as tight to the ground as we possibly could.’

  But to return to Jail Hill. Lowry’s company on the left had succeeded in reaching the crest by 0600 hours, having shot about a dozen Japs as they ran away, but now, as Lowry records, ‘movement forward was a very hard and costly business.’ He goes on: ‘As far as I could see there were three bunkers barring our way, and there were others firing up the hill about 100 yards distant. Under cover of grenades I took about six men forward so that we were only about eight or ten yards away from two of their bunkers….’ The men began worming their way forward and got on to and inside one of the bunkers, but many of them became casualties from machine-guns on the flanks. However, by 0830 hours, Lowry’s company had established themselves on the high ground and were looking down at the Japs; the other company on their right had made some progress, but did not have such good ground to move across. They were troubled, too, by a machine-gun which was firing straight down the road. Energetically trying to redeploy his forces, Lowry went back to his company headquarters and radioed for smoke to be put down on the flanks. He could not make this request via the gunner O.P., as the set had been knocked out, and the operator and the O.P. officer�
�s runner killed. Once the smoke was coming down, Lowry began organizing an attack on the bunkers sited on the rear slope of the hill. He says: ‘…I started the ball rolling by whistling over some grenades, and then we all ran forward. But the terrain was not easy; horizontal tree stumps and the odd trench to negotiate. As we were going down the slope we caught the blast of about three light machine-guns and rifle fire and, of course, grenades, as we tried to negotiate the obstacles. This, I am afraid, resulted in many more men dropping; we were pinned at about ten to fifteen yards away, and there appeared to be only six or seven of us there. I halted the assault… and we took up positions in the broken ground and just took on the Japs by firing at any that showed themselves.’ After this there was a sniping duel, and then the grenades started going over. ‘It was the nearest approach to a snowball fight that could be imagined. The air became thick with grenades, both theirs and ours, and we were all scurrying about, trying to avoid them as they burst. This duel appeared to go on non-stop for an unreckonable time.’

  At 1030 hours the four company commanders managed to get together for a conference. They decided that as the two leading companies were so weak—they could barely muster two strong platoons between them—they should consolidate the ground they had gained, while a third company attempted to work round to the left, and the fourth to dislodge the Japs from the ridge running down to the road.

  All this time the stretcher-bearers were moving to and fro to get back the casualties. Some of them who crossed and recrossed the lines of fire, hour after hour without being hit, seemed to bear charmed lives.