It was, in fact, now evident that unless we quickly reunited our two divisions, we could hardly hope to hold the enemy. I was sure the time had now come when it was imperative to draw in the 17th Division, but General Alexander was loath to do anything that might adversely affect the Chinese. He still insisted on keeping the 17th Division in Taungdwingyi. Luckily, while Corps Headquarters had still been there, we had, by removing the lines and planking the bridges of the railway that ran north out of the town to Kyaukpadaung, turned its earth formation into a rough road. Had this not been done, it would have been impossible, when the Magwe road was cut, even to maintain the 17th Division. The conversion of a railway to a road had been a fine bit of work by the sappers who carried it out under frequent air attack.
For the next two days the 1st Burma Division pulled back, devotedly covered by tanks of 7 Armoured Brigade, to the Yin Chaung. On the night of the 16th/17th April, the Japanese attacked 1 Burma Brigade along this obstacle. At first the brigade resisted stoutly and inflicted considerable losses by ambushing the leading enemy units, but a battalion of Burma Rifles gave way, thus allowing an Indian battalion to be surrounded. The Indians fought their way out, but the whole front was broken. It must be remembered that at this time units were very weak, few battalions having as many as three hundred men, and those tired, ill-fed, and lacking equipment. The 1st Burma Division had no option but to save what it could by ordering a retirement of both 1 and 13 Brigades across country to the Magwe-Yenangyaung road.
We had already sent the bulk of our administrative units and a portion of Corps Headquarters back to Yenangyaung. When a mountain battery started firing from just behind my headquarters I went out and asked what range they were firing at. An officer told me, ‘Two thousand yards’, but when he added, ‘We’re just reducing to fifteen hundred’, I thought it time for the rest of Corps Headquarters to go.
The retreat through the oilfields had begun.
CHAPTER IV
DISASTER
IT was a great disappointment that our efforts to stage a counter-blow on the Magwe-Taungdwingyi line had failed so badly, and I drove into Yenangyaung to check the final arrangements for demolition in no very happy frame of mind. I had watched other oilfields in Syria and Iraq prepared for denial, but the luck had been with us there, and the order for destruction had never been given. Here I knew it was inevitable. Everything was ready for the word to blow. Forster, a senior oil company official, and his staff had done their melancholy work, not only with the highest technical skill but with admirable devotion. They knew as well as I did how threatening was the situation; they saw the back-wash of an army streaming past, but every gallon of petrol was precious now, and in spite of air attacks, alarms and rumours, they kept up some production until the last moment. They were among the last to leave, and their behaviour was an example to all in coolness and courage.
The forced retirement of the 1st Burma Division on its right and the withdrawal north of the Chinese on its left, exposed the 17th Division, in and around Taungdwingyi, on both flanks. The fact that the Japanese were not pressing it, but were by-passing it, only made its situation more dangerous. I wished to abandon Taungdwingyi, leave a detachment at Natmauk, some twenty-five miles north, to cover our communications with Mandalay, and to bring the division by the main road to Magwe. It would thus cut right across the line of communication of the enemy following up the 1st Burma Division and could attack them in rear. There were many risks about this scheme, but the 17th Division was still full of fight and quite pleased with itself over the Kokkogwa encounter. I think it would have got to Magwe, and once there altered the state of affairs considerably. However, Army Headquarters still insisted that Taungdwingyi must be held in strength. This, dangerous as it might be to my corps, was understandable, as the Chinese VI Army in the hills between the railway and the Sittang River was already in difficulties. The 17th Division was not in touch with the Chinese, but its move west at this juncture might have been interpreted as the abandonment of our allies. All I could do, therefore, was to order Cowan to strike with mobile columns from Taungdwingyi and Natmauk at the flank and rear of the Japanese south of Yenangyaung. This he did with some success, but the effects were, of course, nothing like as great as would have resulted from the retaking of Magwe by the whole division.
Burma Corps Headquarters halted among low scrub-covered hillocks, which gave some cover from air observation, on the bank of the Pin Chaung, just north of Yenangyaung. Here I heard that General Alexander was sending me the 38th Chinese Division from the newly arrived LXVI Army, and I asked for it to be concentrated at Kyaukpadaung as soon as possible. It was generous of Stilwell to make no protest at the move of this division as he cannot have been happy about his own VI Army. I had already brought one battalion of Burma Rifles of 2 Burma Brigade, from the west to the east bank of the Irrawaddy; I now pulled over a second, an Indian battalion, leaving the brigade with only two weak Burma battalions and a Burma Frontier Force detachment. Both battalions from the west bank were put in to reconstitute 1 Burma Brigade which was by now badly reduced and much shaken. Throughout the day, Burma Division made its way up the road towards Yenangyaung. It was a melancholy march. They started very tired. There was no water on the route, and, although the corps engineers had by a great effort put in and filled a few water tanks beside the road, the troops suffered greatly from thirst and heat, while Japanese aircraft bombed and machine-gunned them frequently. 7 Armoured Brigade again covered tne withdrawal; what we should have done without that brigade I do not know. We managed to pass the rear echelons of Burma Division’s mechanical transport safely through the oilfields and collect them at Gwegyo, twenty-five miles north of Yenangyaung.
After visiting Yenangyaung at 1300 hours on the 15th April, I gave orders for the demolition of the oilfield and refinery. It was essential that they should not fall intact into Japanese hands. Our information of enemy moves from ground sources, though far from full, was ominous, and from the air non-existent, so that I could risk no further delay. The power-house was exempt from destruction as from it we still ran the small subsidiary oilfield at Chauk, and I wished to cling to production as long as possible. Forster at once put the denial scheme into operation. A million gallons of crude oil burned with flames rising five hundred feet; the flash and crash of explosions came as machinery, communications, and buildings disintegrated; over all hung a vast, sinister canopy of dense black smoke. It was a fantastic and horrible sight.
On the 16th, we moved Corps Headquarters from the Pin Chaung back to Gwegyo, a much better position both from the point of view of air cover and of communications. It was as well we did so, for, soon after dark that night, the Japanese, disguised in Burma Rifles uniforms, suddenly pounced on the road at the exact spot we had left. When we got the news the only troops within reach of Corps Headquarters were a detachment of Burma Frontier Force. Colonel Pryce, the indefatigable officer on my staff whom I had put in charge of all Frontier Force units, was luckily available to lead them. They put in a brisk counter-attack in the dark, and after some very rough fighting cleared the Japanese off the road, although elusive snipers and light machine-gunners kept working their way back and giving trouble. In spite of them transport again began to come through. Some anti-aircraft guns covering the road were ambushed and, after a fight, captured by the enemy. A counter-attack, helped by passing tanks, retook them, and the Japanese tried to set them on fire. I met them coming out, one of the guns with its tyres still burning. The British gunners were smoke-blackened, but cheerful; nor was their shooting affected, for they brought down seven aircraft later in the day. There was no lack of targets.
South of the Pin Chaung, the enemy infiltrated into Yenangyaung itself and attacked the guard on the power-house. The 1st Burma Division, wearily making its way up the road and still south of Yenangyaung, heard in the early hours of the 17th that the Japanese were ahead of it in the town. Scott began to concentrate his men, tired and thirsty, on the southern outskirts du
ring the night, while his leading troops went on and reinforced the detachment at the power-house. It was blown up at midnight on the 16th April, thus completing the destruction of the whole oilfield.
North of the Pin Chaung, at the old Corps Headquarters location, the enemy had reappeared in greater strength and had re-established their block. This time, in addition to Pryce and his Frontier Force Gurkhas, there were available some West Yorkshires and a few tanks coming up from the south. A concerted attack again cleared the road, inflicting heavy casualties, the Japanese leaving many bodies in our uniforms. Transport then moved over the ford again, but numbers of vehicles had been lost by air attack during the enforced halt. More enemy appeared south of the cleared block, about a thousand of them being shelled by our artillery with effect, but again they established a block, this time near the ford. The situation was not encouraging, and I was greatly relieved to hear that 113 Regiment of the Chinese 38th Division was just arriving at Kyaukpadaung. I dashed off in my jeep to meet their commander and give him his orders.
Apart from the guerrilla battalion that had so reluctantly come to us at Taungdwingyi, this was the first time I had had Chinese troops under me. I found the Regimental Commander in the upstairs room of one of the few houses still standing in Kyaukpadaung village. He was a slight but tough-looking little Chinaman, with a real poker face, a pair of field-glasses, and a huge Mauser pistol. We were introduced by the British liaison officer with the regiment, who spoke perfect Chinese. We shook hands, and got down to business with a map. As I described the situation, the Chinese colonel struck me as intelligent and quick to grasp what I wanted. This was to bring his regiment, in lorries which I had ready, down to the Pin Chaung at once, and then send back the transport to fetch the next regiment as quickly as possible. I explained that it was my intention to attack with those two regiments, or, if possible, with the whole division, across the Pin Chaung early on the 18th in co-operation with a break-out by the 1st Burma Division. Having explained all this fully I asked him, through the interpreter, if he understood. He replied that he did.
‘Then let’s get moving,’ I said cheerfully. The translation of this remark brought a flow of Chinese. He could not, he said, budge from Kyaukpadaung until he had the orders of General Sun, his Divisional Commander.
‘But,’ I explained, ‘General Sun has been placed under my orders. If he were here I should tell him to do what I have told you to do, and he would do it. Isn’t that right?’
‘Yes,’ agreed my Regimental Commander readily.
‘All right, then let’s get going.’
‘But I cannot move until I get the orders of General Sun.’
And so it went on for an hour and a half, at the end of which I could cheerfully have shot the colonel with his own pistol. At last, just when I was feeling desperate, he suddenly smiled and said, ‘All right, I will do it!’
Why he changed his mind I do not know. I suspect some of the Chinese of various ranks who had flowed in and out of the room throughout our interview must have brought a message from Sun, telling him to do whatever I wanted. Once he got moving, I had no complaints about my Chinaman. Indeed within the next few days I got to like him very much.
In fact, I got to like all, or almost all, my Chinese very much. They are a likeable people and as soldiers they have in a high degree the fighting man’s basic qualities—courage, endurance, cheerfulness, and an eye for country. In dealing with them I soon discovered that we got on very well, if I remembered three things about our allies:
(i) Time meant nothing to them. No plan based on accurate timing had a hope of success. Whether it was attacking the enemy or coming to dinner, eight o’clock might mean four or just as likely twelve.
(ii) They would steal anything that came near them: stores, rations, lorries, railway trains, even the notice-boards from our headquarters. It was no good getting fussed about this or even finding it extraordinary. After all, if I had belonged to an army that had been campaigning for four or five years without any supply, transport, or medical organization worth the name and had only kept myself alive by collecting things from other people, I should either have had much the same ideas on property or have been dead.
(iii) The most important thing to a Chinaman was ‘face’. I suppose ‘face’ might be defined as the respect in which one Chinaman is held by others. In practice, if a proposal can be put to a Chinaman so that carrying it out will enhance his prestige among his associates he will almost invariably accept it. Whatever ‘face’ is, and however annoying its repercussions may be to an Occidental, it is well to remember it is a very human thing. The Chinese are not the only people who bother about what the neighbours think.
Later in the day Lieut.-General Sun Li Jen, commanding the 38th Division, arrived. He was a slight but well-proportioned, good-looking man, who might in age have been anything from twenty-five to forty-five. He was alert, energetic, and direct. Later I found him a good tactician, cool in action, very aggressively minded, and, in my dealings with him, completely straightforward. In addition, he had the great advantage that he spoke good English with a slight American accent, having, as he was rightly proud to tell, been educated at the Virginia Military Academy. The Academy could be proud of Sun; he would have been a good commander in any army.
I discussed with him the details of the attack next morning. He was suspicious, having, I think, been warned somewhere to look out for the slick British trying to put one over him. All our allies at first suspect us of being terribly clever; it is flattering, but a bit disconcerting. I was impressed by Sun and it was essential to gain his confidence. His division had no artillery or tanks of its own, and I was therefore arranging that all the artillery we had this side of the Pin Chaung and all available tanks should support his attack. I decided there and then that these arms should not be ‘in support of’ but ‘under command of’ his division. Long-suffering Brigadier Anstice, commanding 7 Armoured Brigade, threw me the look of a wounded sambhur when he heard me give this out, but as always he rose to the occasion and he and Sun got on famously together. I had in fact arranged privately with Sun, as I would have done with a British divisional commander inexperienced with tanks, always to consult with Anstice before employing them. Sun, being an extremely sensible man, did so. He was, as far as I know, die first Chinese general to have the artillery and armoured units of an ally placed actually under his command, and his ‘face’ with his own people was accordingly vastly enhanced. The gunners and tank crews, as is the way of British soldiers, soon got on good terms with their new comrades, and, in spite of language difficulties of an extreme kind, co-operation was, I was assured by both sides, not only close but mostly friendly.
The rearguard of the 1st Burma Division closed up on Yenangyaung during the night of the 17th/18th. They were still almost without water as the Japanese were now between them and the Pin Chaung, and, having arrived by boat, held the river bank as well. My only link with Scott was by radio from Tank Brigade Headquarters to the small tank signals detachment he had with his one squadron. We used, as far as we could, code for our talks, and here again I found it a tremendous advantage to have a close friend as divisional commander. Our speech was so interlarded with references to things like our various children’s ages, the numbers of the bungalows we had lived in in India, and other personal matters, to say nothing of being carried on largely in Gurkhali, that he would have been a very clever Japanese who could have made much of it. In this way we co-ordinated the attack for next morning. The only thing that the Japanese seemed to get hold of was the recognition signal we had arranged to distinguish Chinese from Japanese. We had already had trouble from Japanese passing themselves off as Chinese; it was very necessary not to have our Chinese taken for Japanese. The identification signal had to be simple and easily seen. I told the Chinese to put their caps on the muzzles of their rifles and raise them above their heads as soon as they saw any Indian, Gurkha, or British. This message was sent in cipher, but whether the enemy intercept
ed and decoded it, or whether they saw the Chinese giving the signal, jumped to its meaning, and copied, they were certainly giving it at times by next evening.
The plan was roughly for the 1st Burma Division to break out north while the Chinese came down to the Pin Chaung, cleared up the road-block at the ford, and took in rear the Japanese trying to hold the Burma Division. I was still a little doubtful whether my friend the Chinese Regimental Commander, who was to lead the attack, would be quite as pushing as he should or whether some scruple might not delay him as it had yesterday. I mentioned this to Sun, who at once said, ‘Let’s go and see.’ Off we went to Regimental Headquarters, where the Colonel, as far as I could see, had his battalions all ready for the attack. The Colonel knew what I had come for, and so, with something of a twinkle in his narrow eyes, he said:
‘We will now go to a battalion.’
We went.
At the Battalion Headquarters, which was well forward, the Commanding Officer, through Sun, told me his company dispositions. Feeling quite sure that our allies meant business, I announced my satisfaction, and prepared to go back; but I was not to get away so easily. The Colonel, twinkling even more pronouncedly, said:
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