On the morning of 3rd April I flew to Jorhat to meet Stilwell. There was an atmosphere of gloom throughout the large American air force contingent located there—and a certain jumpiness. I have on several occasions noticed this in our own and other airmen, when there is threat of attack on the ground. I can sympathize with their feeling. They are not half as frightened of being attacked on the ground as I, a soldier, am of being attacked in the air. It is a matter of what you are used to. They seemed to have an idea that Japanese hordes might appear on the edge of the strip at any moment, and, knowing I had refused requests for troops to defend the American airfields—any resources I had were infinitely better employed going for the Japanese at Kohima—the ‘Limey general* was not over popular.
The usual crowd of photographers, which dogs the steps of every American general, was present and, to cheer them up, when they wanted my photograph I said I would like to have it taken shaking hands with an American private soldier. I warned them laughingly that, from what I had seen of their air force, it would be a little difficult to find a private—officers and sergeants yes, but privates not so easy. So we started off to visit the nearest sentry group that, rather self-consciously, was patrolling the huts and immediate approaches. Sure enough, they were all sergeants; the nearest we got was a two-striper, but never a simple private. We returned to the mess in much better spirits and on very friendly terms after this little bit of nonsense, in time to meet Stilwell who had just flown in.
He looked tired and older, but he greeted me with friendliness and, I think, understanding. Within a few minutes he led me outside where we were alone, and repeated his offer of the 38th Division. He explained that it would mean stopping his advance, probably withdrawing, and certainly not getting Myitkyina before the monsoon. He was obviously bitterly disappointed, but he made no criticisms and uttered no reproaches. I had the impression that, apart from his own troubles, he was genuinely out to help me in mine. I was most reluctant to hold up his advance at this moment, when the whole of the Japanese striking forces were irretrievably committed to battle against 4 Corps, when my reinforcements for the Imphal battle were beginning to come in, and our troops were fighting so well. With his preponderance in numbers and the effect of Lentaigne’s Special Force behind the Japanese 18th Division opposing him, I was sure this was Stilwell’s great opportunity. I, therefore, told him to retain the 38th Division and the other Chinese divisions now arriving and to push on for Myitkyina as hard as he could go. He asked me if I would guarantee that his line of communication would not be cut. I said I could not promise that Japanese detachments would not elude us and get down into the Brahmaputra Valley, but that I would guarantee that his line of communication would not be interrupted for more than ten days. I said we were in for a really hard fight around Kohima and Imphal, that it was the decisive battle of the campaign, and I was confident of the eventual result. He accepted this and said it was what he had hoped I would say.
To give a feeling of security to the American airfields, as I could not spare troops for the purpose, he would sent a regiment of one of his new divisions to Dinjan where, in addition, it would be well placed for a fly-in if Myitkyina were taken. I asked him if he still had his plan for seizing Myitkyina and when he would do it. He replied that he had and, if all went well and there was not too much rain, he hoped to be there about the 20th of May. He again asked me to tell no one of his plan or of the proposed date of its execution. I agreed I would not. After all, everyone knew he had been ordered to take Myitkyina, and whatever his motives in this secrecy I was prepared to humour him. After lunch, Admiral Mountbatten, Lentaigne, Stopford, and others arrived and the Supreme Commander held a conference at which he approved the instructions I had given Stilwell.
Meanwhile the small force of Burma Rifles and British-officered Kachin levies, isolated far out on Stilwell’s left, had struck south from Fort Hertz and seized Sumprabum, the first great triumph of their little private war. The main Chinese forces were pressing hard towards Kamaing and, if Stilwell was to get Myitkyina before the monsoon, his dash for it could not be long delayed. In great secrecy he organized his striking force. It consisted of the three battalions of American Marauders, each joined with two Chinese battalions, to form three mixed brigades. On the 28th April, Merrill set out on his hazardous expedition; and hazardous it was. He had to lead his men nearly a hundred miles through the wildest country; to cross a mountain range six thousand feet in height by tracks that had to be hacked out of the hill-sides before the pack mules could pass over. Then at the end he would have to attack an enemy whose strength could not be accurately assessed.
No sooner had the striking force started than it rained, trebling the difficulties of their march and tormenting Stilwell with anxiety. Luckily it was not the monsoon, but merely warning storms, and the weather cleared again. On the 14th May, Merrill reported he was within forty-eight hours of his objective; on the 15th, within twenty-four, and the follow-up Chinese were warned for die fly-in.
On the 17th May, Merrill’s force, brushing aside slight opposition, rushed the airfield at Myitkyina. The surprise had been complete, and the Japanese with a total strength of about eight hundred withdrew into the town itself. During the afternoon the fly-in of the first of the Chinese reinforcing regiments began, followed quickly by another. The Marauders and the Chinese who had marched in with them were exhausted with their effort, much as Ferguson’s Chindits had been after a similar march, and, thinking that the enemy in Myitkyina were in strength, contented themselves with consolidating about the airfield. Actually the Japanese garrison in Myitkyina was small, consisting as it did of the headquarters of 114 Regiment of the 18th Division, two very weak battalions, some aerodrome defence troops, and about three hundred administrative details. In addition, there was the 18th Divisional Field Hospital, containing several hundred patients, many of whom were, in accordance with Japanese custom, at once turned out to fight.
The newly arrived Chinese regiments attacked the town on the 19th. They were going into action for the first time, and they were not very well led, nor had they had much time, since getting out of their planes, to orientate themselves. After a little progress, they were held up. In the confusion one body of Chinese fired into another, panic ensued and the attack fell back in disorder. The Japanese reacted quickly to the threat to Myitkyina by calling in to its help all units in the neighbourhood. By the end of May there were in the town elements of both the 18th and 56th Divisions, which with the hospital patients, line of communication and administrative troops, made up a strength of some three thousand five hundred men. Colonel Maruyama of 114 Regiment was in command until Major-General Mizukami, from the 56th Division, reached the town on 2nd June and took over from him. Both these officers proved themselves to be of outstanding courage and determination, while the heterogeneous garrison fought with fanatical desperation.
Unfortunately, Merrill had collapsed soon after arrival at Myitkyina, and the officers sent to replace him were inexperienced and unaccustomed to the strain of actual command in the field. The fact was that Stilwell had no one, at this time, except himself, on whom he could rely either to direct or push through an operation, and he could not be in two places at once.
Reinforcements continued to pour into the original Myitkyina airfield and the other strips that were quickly made near it, until over thirty thousand Chinese were collected there. Still their attacks lacked sting and made little progress. In desperation Stilwell changed his commanders and flew in Pick’s American Combat Engineers to replace the Marauders, now decimated by sickness; but most of the Engineers had not had even elementary training as infantry—it was rash to pit them against the Japanese. The fighting round Myitkyina, so brilliantly begun, settled down to an untidy, uninspired, ill-directed siege.
While Stilwell was launching his dash at Myitkyina, Lentaigne’s main force was fighting hard to hold Blackpool, the block across the Japanese road and rail communications near Hopin, and ‘Morrisforce’, co
mposed of part of 111 Brigade and the Kachins of Dahforce, was moving north up the Bhamo road. Hopin was only forty miles south of Kamaing, Stilwell’s next objective, while Morrisforce might expect to be close to Myitkyina in a week or so. It was obvious that, as Special Force came up from the south and the Chinese pressed down from the north, the need for intimate and daily tactical co-ordination between Lentaigne’s and Stilwell’s forces would become urgent. On the 17th May, therefore, I placed Special Force under Stilwell’s direct command. He now had an American brigade, five Chinese divisions, the three mobile Chindit brigades, and their stronghold troops, a large force approximating now more to the size of an army than a corps. Opposing it was only the sorely battered but still indomitable Japanese 18th Division with a few odds and ends of their 56th Division pulled in from the Yunnan front, and Take Force.
But even the Yunnan front, so quiescent for two years, had now sprung to violent life. The Generalissimo, at last yielding to Allied importunities, had in the latter half of April ordered the long-hoped-for offensive on the Salween. On the night of the 10th/11th May, forty thousand Chinese troops crossed the river at three main points between Hpimaw in the north and Kunlong in the south, a front of nearly two hundred miles. A fourth attempt at Kunlong itself failed. Within a few days twelve Chinese divisions, under General Wei Li Huang, amounting to some seventy-two thousand men, were on the west bank. Holding the passes through the mountains against them was only the Japanese 56th Division with a strength of about twelve thousand. The country was ideal for defence; the Japanese, although vastly outnumbered and without air support, fought skilfully and tenaciously. The first real clashes came as the Chinese forced their way into the mountains north of Mengta, about Lameng, where a Japanese infantry battalion and an artillery unit were wiped out, and at Pingka. At Kunlong, in the south, the Japanese continued to hold the river crossing, but on the rest of the front, during May and early June, they were pushed slowly back to the main road that ran from Wanting to Tengchung. As the Chinese seeped through by mountain tracks, the hard-pressed 56th Division withdrew gradually, converging on Lungling, leaving a regimental headquarters, a battalion, and some detachments in Tengchung to cover the concentration. An unexpected Chinese advance from the north, however, surrounded Tengchung. The garrison held out with fanatical valour until the 21st September when Tengchung fell to overwhelming assault and every Japanese in it died.
Meanwhile the main body of the 56th Division around Lungling was fighting the most desperate battle of the Yunnan front against six Chinese divisions. The Chinese were handicapped by the elementary state of their supply organization, the immense difficulties of their long line of communications, and the monsoon climate against whose wet and cold their soldiers had little protection. Admiral Mountbatten had wisely transferred from the Central front, although I could ill spare it, a squadron of American Dakotas. This, with such help as the 10th and 14th Air Forces could give, was only enough to provide air supply for a very small part of Wei Li Huang’s force.
The Lungling battle raged from the end of June until the end of August. Lieut.-General Matsuyama, the Japanese commander, conducted this defensive battle with great skill. He managed throughout to counter every attempt at encirclement and to keep open the road south to Wanling. In this he was helped by a piece of good fortune that occurred in May. A Chinese transport plane in cloud mistook Tengchung for a friendly airfield and landed. In it were three Chinese staff officers, carrying not only complete details of all the formations taking part in the offensive, but the new cipher for their army. Matsuyama was after that the only commander on either side in Burma who had advance information of enemy movements and intentions. He made good use of it. The Japanese hurried up reinforcements and then, with the bulk of their 2nd Division and a regiment of their 49th, staged a fierce counter-attack in August which, for the time being, stopped the Chinese advance dead in most places, and reduced its subsequent resumption to a crawl. The Chinese losses were heavy, not only from disease and privation, but because their training, armament, and leadership, which were much below those of Stilwell’s troops, made them no match for the Japanese. Nor were their losses being replaced from China. Wei Li Huang had no easy task. His only real advantages were numbers and air support from American fighters and medium bombers which lost much of its value in these wild mountains.
Still, this mass, pressing in on their right flank, however slowly it moved, was a menace to the Japanese front in North Burma. Indeed, even towards the end of May, their whole position there was rapidly becoming precarious. The 18th Division was beginning to crack. Stilwell’s main force was closing in on Kamaing. In addition to the large Chinese force attacking Myitkyina, the Fort Hertz detachment was approaching from Sumprabum and Morrisforce was operating against the town from the east of the Irrawaddy. The fall of Myitkyina, although it no longer seemed imminent, could be only a matter of time.
A brigade of Lentaigne’s Special Force held Blackpool, near Hopin, against constant attack for three weeks, cutting the enemy’s main line of communication at a critical time. The Japanese concentrated most of Take Force, including a regiment of the 53rd Division, against the Chindits here and bombarded them heavily with field and medium artillery. Worst of all, they established anti-aircraft guns in range of the landing ground. In spite of that, the British and American Dakota pilots, unable to land as the strip was under direct fire, continued to drop their loads, but supply was intermittent and there was no evacuation of wounded. Then the weather broke badly and, as the Japanese closed in, so did the clouds. Air supply and air support both ceased. On the 25th May the Chindits, carrying their wounded, broke out of Blackpool and plodded north-west towards the Indawgyi Lake, around which other columns of Lentaigne’s men were collecting. The rain had made it impossible to keep earth airstrips in action and there seemed little hope of getting out the increasing number of sick and wounded that were being laboriously brought in by their comrades. The R.A.F. found the answer in two Sunderland flying-boats, which, as a change from submarine hunting in the Indian Ocean, flew from Colombo to this fifteen miles by five miles stretch of water in the heart of Burma. Working throughout some of the worst monsoon weather, they flew out nearly six hundred casualties.
During the first weeks of June, Stilwell’s Chinese had kept up their drive down the Mogaung Valley. Fighting with increasing confidence and boldness, they destroyed the Japanese who tried to bar their way at Shadazup and Laban. Then on the 16th June the Chinese 22nd Division took Kamaing, and on the 20th Calvert’s 77 Brigade of Lentaigne’s force stormed Mogaung, just ahead of the Chinese 38th Division coming from the north. By this time, too, the great battles around Imphal had definitely turned against the Japanese. Such reinforcements as he could scrape up, Kawabe, the enemy Commander-in-Chief, was sending there to cover his withdrawal. His two northern fronts were crumbling and there was little he could do to bolster them up. He was by now plainly reduced to fighting merely a delaying campaign in North Burma.
Negotiations had been going on between Admiral Mountbatten and Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek for Wei Li Huang’s Yunnan armies to come under South-East Asia Command when they crossed the Burma border. As seemed inevitable, however, where Chinese were concerned, there was considerable mystification about the command of these troops. To begin with, the Sino-Burmese frontier was not marked in these outlandish hills. British maps showed it in one place, the Chinese several miles farther west. In any case, whatever the line, it was likely that at times some parts of the same Chinese formation would be on each side of it—a hopeless complication. The Generalissimo kept a tight hand on these Yunnan troops, and Stilwell’s control, exercised through an American mission, was, I gathered from him, pretty nebulous. Still, whether he commanded them or not, Stilwell’s own force now amounted to about seven divisions and the agreement had been that when Kamaing was taken he should pass from my command. It was only logical to regard him as an army commander on the same footing as myself and place him, like me,
under 11th Army Group, but once again Stilwell refused to serve under General Giffard. He insisted on coming directly under Admiral Mountbatten, although there was no organization at South-East Asia Command Headquarters to deal direct with an army.
When I visited Stilwell on his passing from my command he said, with his frosty twinkle, ‘Well, General, I’ve been a good subordinate to you. I’ve obeyed all your orders!’ That was true enough, but so was my retort, ‘Yes, you old devil, but only because the few I did give you were the ones you wanted!’
The long-drawn-out siege of Myitkyina was a great disappointment to Stilwell, and it was at this period that he really lived up to his nickname, Vinegar Joe. He was extremely caustic about his unfortunate American commanders, accusing them of not fighting, and of killing the same Japanese over and over again in their reports. He was equally bitter against the Chindits, complaining that they did not obey his orders, had abandoned the block at Hopin unnecessarily, and had thus let strong Japanese reinforcements into the Kamaing–Myitkyina area. He asked for British parachute troops to restore the situation, but, apart from the fact that the small parachute formation available was already in the thick of the fighting at Imphal and could not have been extricated, there was no doubt he took a much too alarmist view of the position on his front. Lentaigne retaliated to the accusations hurled at him by complaining that Stilwell was demanding the impossible and that, by continually setting simultaneous tasks for all his columns, was making it impossible to give any part of his force the time essential for reorganization and evacuation of casualties without which they could not operate effectively. Relations between the two commanders became strained, and finally, at the end of May, Stilwell asked Admiral Mountbatten to withdraw Special Force. As a result, early in June, although I was no longer in command of this front, I was sent to N.C.A.C. to adjudicate between Stilwell and Lentaigne and to attempt to heal the breach.
Defeat Into Victory Page 34
