The Burma Campaign

by Frank McLynn

  Yet Churchill probably was acting in bad faith, for slightly different reasons. With his obsession with India, he was determined to prevent Chinese forces operating on the subcontinent, and this time he was prepared to ride out the storm of American pressure. By saying he could not guarantee Royal Navy supremacy in the Bay of Bengal in the near future, knowing that this was one of Chiang’s preconditions, he hoped to trigger a Kuomintang walkout.85 This is exactly what happened. When FDR could not get Churchill to change his mind at the famous conference at Casablanca on 14–23 January, Chiang said that in future he would take no account of Western promises but simply assume that campaigns in northern Burma were impracticable. In vain did Stilwell try to persuade T.V. Soong that if Chiang did not cooperate, Lend-Lease might be cut. Soong had seen enough of FDR to know about his ‘China complex’. It followed that all threats of ending Lend-Lease were the most obvious bluff. Stilwell was left in a military cul-de-sac, hating Chiang but hating the British even more. With Chiang reverting to the default position of Chennault and his doctrine of unaided superiority, Stilwell dubbed the first Friday after New Year’s Day ‘black Friday’. His frustration is obvious from his diary: ‘Peanut screams that the British Navy hasn’t appeared and the Limeys will use only three divisions instead of seven. The Limeys squawk that “it can’t be done” and look on me as a crazy man, as well as a goddam meddler stirring up trouble. If anything goes wrong, I am sure to be the goat. Both Chinese and Limeys want to sit tight and let the Americans clean up the Japs.’ As for Chennault and his idle boasts: ‘What a break for the Limeys! Just what they wanted. Now they will quit and the Chinese will quit, and the goddam Americans can go ahead and fight.’86 At Casablanca FDR was proclaiming his controversial doctrine of ‘unconditional surrender’, now confident, after the success of TORCH and the victories at Alamein and Stalingrad, that the Germans were on the run. But in South-East Asia, with the Arakan campaign about to run into the sand, the Allies in disarray and the Japanese seemingly impregnable, the outlook was grim. Whatever 1943 had in store for Stilwell, it surely had to be better than the dark days of 1942.

  7

  It was now December 1942 and Wingate and the Chindits were ready for action. Wingate had held a kind of aqueous ‘passing-out parade’ by swimming past treetops in 30-foot-high flood water as a fillip to his troops. His prejudice against the Gurkhas continued as they proved hopeless at watermanship, whereas the Burma Rifles excelled at everything and could live off the country, even knowing which frogs and pythons were good to eat. The Chindits had been trained to carry 70-pound loads on the march – tropical uniform, army boots, mosquito net, mess tins, sterilising kit, rifle or Bren gun plus 50 rounds of .303 ammunition and six days’ iron rations (12 wholemeal biscuits, two ounces of nuts and raisins, two ounces of cheese, four ounces of dates, two ounces of chocolate, 20 cigarettes, tea, sugar, powdered milk, salt and vitamin C tablets). The mules carried the three-inch mortar, extra ammunition, wireless sets and battery chargers.1 Wingate divided his 3,000 men into eight columns of about 400 men, each of which comprised three rifle platoons and a support platoon with two three-inch mortars and two Vickers medium machine guns, with a mule transport platoon and an RAF air liaison detachment. Only seven columns actually operated, since the original No. 6 Column was broken up to replace casualties sustained in training. In addition, as the ‘eyes and ears’ of the columns, Wingate had 10 platoons for reconnaissance, scouting and sabotage; he was convinced that he did not need proper commandos, that his men could do the job just as well.2 Wingate’s idea was that to maximise confusion each column would march independently, carrying a week’s rations, to be resupplied by airdrop. The Chindits accepted that their leader was a courageous and resourceful man and kept their wider reservations to themselves. What they thought of the constant bible-thumping can only be surmised. Wingate was particularly fond of quoting Ecclesiastes 9:10 in his speeches: ‘Whatever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.’ The men whispered to each other about ‘Tarzan’ (their name for Wingate) or, when he played the angry prophet with his baleful, thundering looks, ‘Brigadier Bela Lugosi’.3

  At the end of 1942, the Chindits went by road and rail to Dimapur, then marched up the Manipur road by night (by day it was used by motorised convoys) through pelting rain, taking nine days to cover the 120 miles to Imphal, where they rested for 12 days, told to await further orders. Advance Headquarters of 77th Brigade at Imphal was a 25-foot-square operations room papered with maps and photos, with a one-inch-to-the-mile map on the floor. Here for 12 hours a day and five days non-stop they pored over the details of Burma’s geography. Wavell came to see them and spent an unusually bibulous and talkative evening with Wingate and Calvert, apparently enjoying the ‘return-to-nature’ feel about their primitive accommodation, and generally in good spirits now that Churchill had made him a field marshal.4 But there was little relaxation for the Chindits. Wingate had deliberately bivouacked seven miles to the north of Imphal, and the men were allowed into the town strictly and solely to attend briefings in the operations room. The puritanical Wingate had decided there would be no last-minute visits to brothels, and even considered that going to the cinema had a ‘softening’ effect. Instead of last-minute pleasures, those who were about to go into combat had to spend time on final training and exercises, including a supply-drop manoeuvre with the RAF.5 Suddenly, however, all Wingate’s dreams and ambitions were threatened. It will be remembered that the LRP operation was originally designed as part of a three-pronged offensive, with conventional British forces attacking Akyab and the Arakan, while the Ledo and Yunnan forces under Stilwell swept down from the north and north-east to secure northern Burma and reopen the land route to China. A series of mishaps now occurred. It was originally planned that 4 Corps would assault Sittang and Kalewa while 15 Corps tackled Akyab and Arakan, but shortages of labour, transport and even the wherewithal to build new roads led to the cancellation of the project. Even worse, Chiang Kai-shek, angry about the decisions taken at the Casablanca conference, refused to sanction a Chinese advance from the north. With all hopes for a 1943 campaign of reconquest gone, Wavell had to consider whether the LRP project was any longer relevant. The case for abandoning it was strong, but Wavell, always partial to Wingate, told him that it was being postponed.6

  On 7 February, a crucial date in Wingate’s biography, Wavell arrived at Chindit headquarters with his mind, on balance, inclined towards cancellation. In a two-hour interview Wingate fought his corner tiger-ishly. Having heard Wavell state that he could not be a party to the pointless waste of lives, Wingate hit back with six main arguments. First, cancellation would boost the defeatist blimps in the Indian army who had always opposed Wingate and LRP. Second, it was essential for the British to overcome their current ignorance of Japanese methods of fighting in the jungle. Third, Fort Hertz – the one remaining British outpost in Burma, 60 miles south of the Chinese border, manned by Karen levies – was in desperate need of relief. Fourth, without a Chindit crossing, the Japanese would dominate the jungle on either side of the Chindwin river. Fifth, 77 Brigade was now pitch perfect and any delay or cancellation would have a catastrophic impact on morale. Sixth, an attack by 77 Brigade would impair and set back Japanese preparations for an offensive.7 Actually, these arguments were not that powerful except for the point about Fort Hertz. But psychologically Wavell was looking for ways and means to be persuaded so that he could ‘sell’ the operation, and Wingate pressed all the right buttons. It was a classic case of giving bad reasons for what was believed on instinct. Impressed by Wingate’s enthusiasm and his absolute conviction that the venture was worthwhile, Wavell made a Pilate-like gesture by referring the final decision to the man who had accompanied him to the conference, Lieutenant General Brehon Somervell of the US army. Somervell said: ‘Well, I guess I’d let them roll.’8 Wavell then mounted the reviewing stand, saluted the Chindits as they marched past and made a short speech: ‘This is a great adventure. It is not going to be an eas
y one. I wish you all the best of luck.’ Such brevity, reminiscent of Lincoln at Gettysburg, was not Wingate’s style. His highly rhetorical order of the day issued to his men reads like a speech from Caesar or Thucydides.9

  By sheer determination and perseverance, Wingate now had what he wanted. Since the previous year he had held the rank of brigadier, and both Calvert and Fergusson had been promoted to lieutenant colonel. Wavell had laid down few provisos or qualifications. It has never been satisfactorily explained why, particularly in the light of the collapse of the Chinese offensive, Wingate’s columns were not directed south-east to help the Arakan operation, where such an intervention might just have tipped the balance. The Chindits’ main assignments were to cut two railways, that between Myitkyina and Mandalay in northern Burma and also the Mandalay–Lashio line. The only thing that annoyed Wingate was the code name given to his first Chindit expedition: Operation LONGCLOTH, which did not have the grandiloquence he sought.10 In the week after 6 February, the seven columns marched south-east from Imphal to Moreh on the Assam/Burma border. Once across the border the brigade was to split into two groups. The first or Southern Group, comprising Columns 1 and 2 (1,000 men and 250 mules) was to feint and sow disinformation so as to throw the Japanese off the scent. Northern Group (Columns 3, 4, 5, 7 and 8), comprising 2,000 men and 850 mules, was to carry out the railway demolitions. Small patrols of 77 Brigade had already crossed the Chindwin and travelled some 30 miles into enemy territory, returning without mishap, but a crossing by 3,000 men and more than a thousand animals would be an entirely different matter. This was why the disinformation strategy employed was of almost labyrinthine complexity. On 13 February, an advance party of the Northern Group crossed at Tonhe, 50 miles to the north. This was an elaborate double bluff. The Japanese were meant to conclude, when the Southern Group crossed farther south, that this advance party was a feint to divert attention from the traverse of the Southern Group, whereas in fact Southern Group was itself the feint to mask the crossing of the bulk of Northern Group. As a further refinement of deception, a disinformation party split off from the Southern Group, marched south and ordered a huge quantity of supplies from a village known to be pro-Japanese, mentioning various places on a supposed southern itinerary. The ruse was a great success. The second wave, 2,000 men of Northern Group, crossed the Chindwin unopposed on 14 February.11

  Yet Wingate was far from satisfied. There were several unforeseen problems. He had poured scorn on the Gurkhas for being such inept muleteers, but in the field, facing the great rivers of Burma in conditions unlike those they had trained in at Saugur (where there were no wide rivers), not even the so-called expert mule-drivers proved capable of handling the animals efficiently. While elephants and bullocks swam the Chindwin with ease, the mules proved skittish, recalcitrant and even hysterical, perhaps fearing crocodiles. Getting them to the far bank was a nightmare of braying, bucking and stampeding animals.12 Mules also played a part in the mixed fortunes of the Southern Group. Supposed to be two days ahead of the Northern Group, they soon fell behind schedule. Their first task was to ambush a 250-strong Japanese garrison at Maingnyaung on 18 February, but there was a skirmish between the three Gurkha platoons and a Japanese patrol before the objective was reached, which left six Japanese dead. Alerted, the enemy opened up with mortars. This spooked the mules, and the panic-stricken muleteers added to the stampede. The mules were missing for several days and some of them never returned. More importantly, the element of surprise was lost, and the fiasco cost the Southern Group a delay of three days.13 The group then made painfully slow progress from Maingnyaung out of the hill country east of the Chindwin but the remaining mules, existing on bamboo leaves, became increasingly emaciated and the men found that the loss of the grain in the fracas on the 18th cut down on their rations. Wingate continued to fulminate about the excessive noise the mules were making and ordered that if they whinnied they were to be given a sharp poke on the nose. This disconcerted the British drovers, who had formed a sentimental attachment to their charges. Soon the well-disciplined Chindits were beginning to turn into something of a rabble, discharging their kit and anything that could be construed as surplus baggage.14

  The Southern Group then slowly pulled away from the hill country east of the Chindwin, making for the Mandalay–Myitkyina railway. On the night of 3–4 March, they were ambushed in the Mu valley in the dark. The result was disaster. Radios, ciphers and most equipment was lost, and No. 2 Column came close to being annihilated. The battered remnants of No. 1 Column limped on to the banks of the Irrawaddy, awaiting final orders from Wingate, who naturally blamed the commander, Major Burnett. ‘The disaster to No. 2 Column,’ he wrote later, ‘was easily avoidable [he did not say how] and would never have taken place had the commander concerned understood the doctrines of penetration.’15 Meanwhile Wingate and the Northern Group rendezvoused five miles inland from the Chindwin in pelting rain, having successfuly received their parachute drops. Wingate then dithered about his choice of options: to make for Tonmakeng, where intelligence reported no enemy presence, and wait for the next supply drop; to attack the 200-strong Japanese garrison at Sinlamaung; or to bypass it and head into the Mu valley.16 Keeping his options open for the moment, Wingate made for a very pleasant teak forest, with the leaves still on the trees providing a canopy from the sun and an umbrella from the rain. But in this idyllic setting the men grew over-confident and forgot that they were in enemy country; Wingate was angry to see discipline lapse, to see his Chindits dawdling and neglecting elementary precautions and even leaving a trail for the enemy to find by dropping litter.17 After giving the officers a tongue-lashing, he decided that what would restore esprit de corps was a real firefight. His scouts reported that there was a Japanese garrison in a gold-mining village called Metkalet between Myene (15 miles east of the Chindwin) and Tonmakeng. He accordingly ordered No. 3 and No. 5 Columns, under Calvert and Fergusson respectively, to attack at once. Another fiasco soon developed. Fergusson found his column floundering in a swamp, still far from his objective, when a courier arrived to tell him that he was on a fool’s errand anyway, as there was no Japanese garrison in Metkalet after all.18 He and Calvert took their columns back on to the main Tonmakeng track, where they found Wingate again uncertain and dithering, not knowing whether to call in another supply drop near Tonmakeng or divert into the Mu valley and get one there. Eventually he opted for the Tonmakeng option, on the basis that no one knew Japanese strength in the Mu valley. He was taking a risk on two grounds. They were making slow progress, only 10 miles a day instead of the scheduled 15, which meant that enemy pursuers might even then be gaining on them. Worse still, if there was a strong Japanese garrison at Tonmakeng, Northern Force’s adventure would perforce come to an abrupt end.19

  All this time the Chindits were trekking through the most difficult country, alternating stiff uphill climbs with precipitous descents, crossing the Zibyu range, down into a wide valley, then up again across the Mangin range at 4,000 feet and down once more into the valley of the Meza, a tributary of the Irrawaddy. They reached Tonmakeng without further incident on 22 February. Learning that there was a Japanese garrison at Sinlamaung, 10 miles away, Wingate decided that three of the columns would attack there while the rest waited for a massive supply drop, expected to take three days. His idea was that if the attack on Sinlamaung ran into trouble, it could be reinforced from Tonmakeng. There ensued a further comedy of errors. The attackers could not even find Sinlamaung for three days, and when they finally located it on 25 February, having marched round in circles, they discovered that there had been a garrison there but it had just pulled out. Heartened by the success of the three-day supply drop, Wingate called a conference of senior officers, at which it was decided to march on to Zibyutaungdan, with No. 3 Column under Calvert operating independently. On 26 February, Wingate delivered a pointless harangue to his officers about the British cult of gallant losers – how it was a sign of corruption and degeneracy that the British celebra
ted a terrible defeat like that at Dunkirk in 1940 as if it were a glorious victory.20 Doubtless everyone was glad to get under way next day, but the initial relief at not being on the receiving end of a lecture turned to gloom as the men found themselves marching single file along a narrow jungle track; once again the muleteers performed wonders in extremely difficult going. Wingate did not enhance his reputation among the marchers by issuing a deeply unpopular prohibition on brewing up morning tea at first light.21 On 1 March the trekkers came to the Zibyutaungdan escarpment and began the descent into the Mu valley. Wingate now decreed that the Northern Group would disperse into its individual columns and rendezvous later at the Irrawaddy or beyond. He sent an advance party across the Irrawaddy to the Kachin highlands north-east of Mandalay to raise a guerrilla force among the notably pro-British people. On 2 March he marched his men 20 miles down a motor road in broad daylight and in teeming rain to a bivouac area in the forest about 10 miles north-east of Pinlebu. Since this was against all his carefully inculcated principles, eyebrows were raised, but Wingate explained that he had decided on the easy progress on the metalled road as there would be no vehicles on it in the torrential rains; also, he added, a good commander always knew when to break his own rules.22