by Peter Brune
By December 1941, three-quarters of all personnel serving in the RAF Far East Command had been posted direct from a training school and were new to the unique conditions found in Malaya. Further, from January to September 1941, there were some 67 flying accidents across Far East Command which resulted in 48 deaths.18 This must surely be, in part at least, a reflection of the training of the pilots.
If the equipment of the air forces in the Far East was substandard in terms of both quality and quantity, then the shameful truth is that the authorities gave their aircrews little assistance in other critical areas. Their intelligence gathering—and failure to use what they did get—was a classic case in point.
Brooke-Popham’s chief intelligence service was the Far Eastern Combined Bureau. In basic terms, both the bureau and its intelligence recipients in Singapore were amateurish, unprofessional and probably incompetent. Administered by the Royal Navy, and with a naval officer in command, army and air force intelligence ran a distant second and third to naval intelligence. Japanese fighters had been involved in combat missions over China and Manchuria for some time, and, when the soon to be famous Zero began to appear over the same skies from around July 1940, the proficiency of Japanese aircraft and their pilots were obvious to any interested parties. Further, in May 1941—seven months before the Pacific War began—a Japanese fighter was shot down by anti-aircraft fire near Chengtu in China, a major US Army Air Force base. Data on its armament and range were passed onto Air Headquarters in Singapore, and, after the British Air Attaché stationed in Chungking sent his estimates as to the Japanese fighters’ performance, this too was passed onto Air HQ Far East. Shores and Cull, in Bloody Shambles: ‘. . . but at Air HQ, Far East, lack of intelligence staff resulted in this data failing to be extracted from a mass of general intelligence information.’19 No excuse.
Given that the pilots in the Far East were often very inexperienced, and that they were to be further handicapped by an inadequacy of both numbers and quality of aircraft, to deny them the opportunity to become familiar with the performance of Japanese army and navy aircraft, their operational tactics and the abilities of their pilots was unforgivable, given that much of this information was readily available.
Brooke-Popham made two visits to Australia to confer with the Australian Government and service representatives. The first was in February 1941, when he informed the Australians that Churchill had told him that he would not let Singapore fall, and that he was to hold the ‘fortress’ for six months until capital ships could arrive. This was an empty gesture given that the Chiefs of Staff had extended the period before relief to ‘indefinite’ after the fall of France—over six months earlier. Further, Brooke-Popham told the Australians that the Japanese were not ‘air-minded’ and particularly so against ‘determined opposition’.20 He also said that the Malayan air force would put up ‘a good show’. Determination is an admirable quality—but competitive aircraft and trained pilots and adequate intelligence are the necessary prerequisites for ‘a good show’.
But it was at the second conference with the Australian Advisory War Council on 16 October 1941—under the new Prime Minister John Curtin—where Brooke-Popham’s comments became culpable. He stated that the Buffalo fighters were superior to their Japanese counterparts, and that the Buffalo was well suited to Malayan conditions. But he ‘admitted a shortage of long-range and torpedo bombers’.21 Brooke-Popham also stated that the Japanese were more likely to move against the Soviet Union while that nation was immersed in fighting the Germans. This would delay any Japanese move southwards by at least three months. Prime Minister Curtin was not convinced. Pointing to the still deficient numbers of aircraft needed to defend Singapore and Malaya, Curtin urged a stronger stand against Whitehall. Brooke-Popham took ‘umbrage’ at this statement and said that he had ‘made all representations short of resigning’ and that the British Chiefs of Staff were ‘not neglecting the Far East and that probably they have made a fair allocation from the resources available’.22
In an extraordinary footnote to Brooke-Popham’s statements at this conference, Douglas Gillison, in his Australia in the War of 1939–1945: Royal Australian Air Force 1939–1942, has stated that:
Apart from complaints about this aircraft’s inefficiency from pilots in his own command, of which he must have been aware, Brooke-Popham in his official despatch admitted that the Buffalo’s performance at heights of 10,000 feet and over was relatively poor, a fact which he had already demonstrated (in September) by a test in Burma. This showed its inferiority to the American Tomahawk which members of the AVG [American Volunteer Group] doubted would be a match for Japanese fighters. Yet at this time there was Intelligence information to show that the Japanese Zero was powerfully armed (two 7.7-mm guns and two 22-mm cannon), had a maximum speed of 345 m.p.h. and a range, with maximum fuel load, of 1,500 miles—an impressive performance by any standards then known and one which, clearly, was far beyond that of the Buffalo. Brooke-Popham should not have lacked this information which in fact was issued with a noteworthy review of the origin, organisation and development of the Japanese Navy and Army Air Services as a RAAF Intelligence memorandum, just ten days before Brooke-Popham’s comments to the Advisory War Council.23
This is astonishing evidence. Brooke-Popham must have been aware of this data. It would seem that David Day, in his The Great Betrayal, provides the only plausible answer to Brooke-Popham’s statements.
. . . Brooke-Popham acknowledged that the Labor Government was more critical of Britain and more conscious of its predicament in the Pacific. He warned London of the importance of making Australia ‘feel that we, in England, look upon them as definitely part of one Empire and we must do everything we can to keep them in the Empire and not run any risk of their slipping out of it’.24
And how would that be accomplished? By ‘spin’ and generalities, and if need be, by untruths.
But there were failures that were more localised in nature. The animosity between General Bond and Air Vice-Marshal Babington has been identified. Poisoned senior command relationships permeate to subordinate commandersandtheotherranks,andfurtherinhibitcommonpolicy,common objectives and cooperation. Therefore, despite the lack of funding from London, muddled and uncoordinated efforts in Singapore caused further grave difficulties. Although by 1941 around 22 airfields had been built, the RAF was faced with a number of inherent local weaknesses, in addition to its flawed airfield locations, inferior aircraft and inexperienced pilots.
Although all airfields were allotted eight light and eight heavy anti-aircraft guns by the end of 1941, only 17 per cent of these guns had been deployed.25 Thus, the poor siting of the airfields was compounded by equally poor protection of them against enemy air attack. In mid-1941, Flight-Lieutenant Burlinson RAAF was appointed group defence officer. During an examination of the airfields on Singapore he noted that they were:
. . . defended on the old principles of the ‘thin red line’; as a friend said, ‘very thin and not much of a line.’ One clause in the orders for the defence of each of these stations appeared in identical words in each set of orders. This clause referred to the Mobile Relief Column which was to rush to the aid of the station garrison in the event of pressing need. This force was referred to in . . . general terms and inconclusive detail . . . Major Peel Thompson of the Manchesters . . . General Staff Officer II, Headquarters, Singapore Fortress . . . gave me all the help it was in his power to give . . . When I outlined my question [about the relief column] he smiled and said, ‘My friend, you have been reading the papers, you have entirely the wrong idea of the defence of Singapore.’ [Thompson then showed Burlinson a map of the disposition of troops on Singapore Island] . . . Somewhere inland from Singapore was a cluster of four pins. Pointing to these the GSO II said, ‘Here my friend, you have the whole of the reserve of which you spoke—of four platoon strength. It is NOT mobile and has seventeen different roles to perform.’ 26
Burlinson’s tour of the Malayan airfield defences was
hardly anymore encouraging. Douglas Gillison, in Australia in the War of 1939–1945: Royal Australian Air Force 1939–1942:
On arrival at the northern most airfield, Kota Bharu, he was taken to meet Brigadier Key, who was charged with its defence. Key had three battalions of infantry dispersed along 45 miles of frontier and 40 miles of coastline. The R.A.F. station was less than a mile and a half from the coast. As the artillery available consisted of one servicable field gun, it was obvious that so far as army defences were concerned, enemy destroyers might lie off shore and shell either Kota Bharu or Gong Kedah (where a new airfield had been constructed 30 miles to the south) without risk. Asked by Burlinson whether he could guarantee that these two airfields could be maintained in service in the face of an enemy attack with one full division, the brigadier replied that he could give no such guarantee and that, anyway, the enemy naval escort could render both airfields untenable without any troops landing.27
The RAAF Official Historian then proceeds to record a disturbing British trait, which, when viewed through Australian eyes, comes down to little more than professional snobbery. When Burlinson sent in his report to Pulford, it was passed on to General Percival. The general’s reply was subsequently shown to Burlinson by Pulford: ‘the General was satisfied with the dispositions and that in any case he was not accustomed to receiving critical reports signed only by a second lieutenant.’28 Burlinson was ‘merely’ a second lieutenant; he was not a ‘professional’; but he was an experienced business man ‘of some standing at home’,29 who probably was, therefore, more than capable of identifying structural weaknesses in organisations. Further, Pulford would surely not have passed the report on to Percival had he thought it lacked substance.
Another officer of equally unimpressive rank—but, it seems, with keen powers of observation—was Flight-Lieutenant Bulcock, who observed that the RAF station at Seletar facing the Johore Strait ‘was staggering for those seeing it for the first time—palatial messes, barracks, tennis courts, football fields, swimming pool, golf course, picture show and yacht club—all situated within the seven-mile steel boundary fence enclosing the aerodrome . . .’30 When posted to the RAF station at Kuantan, he observed that ‘nearly all the buildings had been completed and stood out like a fire on the ocean, for that excellent camouflage the rubber trees had been ruthlessly shorn away’.31 After repeated requests for additional equipment, and a visit by a group captain, Bulcock was told to ‘put all his troubles in writing’.32
If the RAF airfields in Singapore and Malaya were poorly protected by the army, and often poorly camouflaged, as well as lacking quality anti-aircraft gun cover, then the RAF’s ability to provide early warning of enemy aircraft and then operate with a sound communication system was also severely flawed. Although there were two radar units on Singapore, only two more would be in use by the end of 1941 in eastern Malaya, with another five under construction. The communication channels in the RAF Command comprised the telephone network, teleprinter, wireless telegraphy and radio-telephone networks. As the telephone network passed through the civil exchanges and there was a paucity of emergency lines, the whole telephone network was extremely vulnerable. Also, the RAF internal telephone system lacked a repair and maintenance field signals system, which impacted upon both station and unit communications, while there was a shortage of teleprinters and, they too, depended on exposed land cables.
As the Pacific War drew ever closer, the air war was to become a most unequal contest. The Japanese were superior in numbers and aircraft and had highly trained and experienced pilots. They also had the initiative and had concentrated their resources and their force. Above all, they possessed a high sense of plan and purpose. The RAF on the other hand was a poorly trained and equipped formation with an inflated sense of its own ability to engage its enemy. It had a poor intelligence system, was vulnerable to concentrated strikes in terms of early warning and airfield protection, and was to be further inadequately protected by an army it had failed to consult and to work with. While the British services argued almost endlessly over the strategic and tactical roles of the RAF in shaping defence plans in the Far East, the Japanese Army and Navy each had their own air arm, and each controlled its own training, tactical use and deployment of that resource—which would prove decisive.
General Percival took over as GOC Malaya Command on 16 May 1941. Any fair assessment of his performance before the outbreak of war—a seven-month period—should be based on two criteria: first, the resources (both human and material) at his disposal; and second, the impact he made upon his command.
By December 1941, the total strength of the army—including the administrative and line of communication units—was around 88 800. Of these soldiers, about 37 000 were Indian, 19 600 British, 15 200 Australian and approximately 16 800 were locally enlisted Asians. This force consisted of three divisions (each composed of two brigades): the 9th and 11th Indian, and the 8th Australian, and a modest allocation of supporting artillery. There were also ‘two reserve brigade groups, two fortress brigades for Singapore Island and a battalion as garrison for Penang’.33 In addition to a number of airfield defence and local volunteer defence units, Singapore Island possessed its fixed coastal defence guns and anti-aircraft batteries. In all, the army defence of Malaya and Singapore numbered around three and a half divisions—a shortfall of about seventeen infantry battalions and two tank regiments which Generals Bond and Percival had estimated were the minimum army requirement until the air forces had reached their promised strength. But the really damning deficit in the structure of the army defence of Singapore was the absence of armoured units. Percival had requested two tank regiments as early as 1937, whilst serving as General Dobbie’s GSO1, and had repeated his request when GOC Malaya in 1941. They would not be forthcoming.
The ‘locally enlisted Asian’ forces aside, by far the biggest army formation in the defence of Malaya and Singapore was III Corps—primarily the Indian Army’s 9th and 11th Divisions. III Corps was over twice the size of the British and Australian formations put together. Its commander was Lieutenant-General Sir Lewis Heath. Known as ‘Piggy’, Heath had had a distinguished career. Born in Poona India on 23 November 1885, he had, whilst serving with the 59th Scinde Rifles, been wounded in an attack on the Dujailah Redoubt, Mesopotamia on 8 March 1916, which had left him with a withered arm. Promoted to Major-General in 1939, Heath had commanded the newly raised 5th Indian Division to a decisive victory against the Italians at Keren during the Eritrean Campaign. He was an attractive man, two years older than Percival, senior to him until Percival’s promotion to GOC Malaya, and had been knighted with the distinction of having conducted the first British offensive of the war. He had recently re-married to a ‘New Zealand nurse many years his junior whom he had “smuggled into Malaya” as he put it, as his fiancee’.34 By the time the fighting commenced, Heath’s wife was expecting a child and was subsequently allowed to remain in Malaya.
III Corps was not, at the outbreak of hostilities, in any fit state to fight a war against an adversary of the standard of the Japanese. The Indian Army had originally been formed as a limited professional formation designed for the defence of the North-West Frontier. Prior to the First World War, it was an organisation made up of officers and other ranks who often had ‘family ties binding them to their regiments’.35 Thus, despite differences in religion or caste, the army had a strong esprit de corps and a proud tradition. In 1921, it was planned that each Indian regiment should be capable of a doubling of its size. There were two conditions to this proposed expansion: the first being that it should be limited to a ‘doubling’ of units, and the second that there should be ample warning of such an expansion and a sufficient time span for the training of both officers and other ranks before such units were committed to action. Neither of these sensible prerequisites for expansion came to pass.
In September 1939, the Indian Army was a little over 200 000 strong. By 1941, it numbered some 900 000 officers and other ranks and would increa
se to 1 800 000 by the end of 1942—in other words, within a period of a little over two years it would increase its prewar strength by nine times.
The fall of France was the catalyst for this rapid growth. The Indian Government offered the establishment of five new divisions immediately and a further five after the departure of the first five formed. During 1940–41 therefore, the 6th, 8th and 10th Divisions had set sail for the Middle East, and the 9th and 11th Divisions were sent to Malaya. Lieutenant-General Heath’s III Corps HQ was established in Malaya during May 1941; the 11th Division (Major-General Murray-Lyon), consisting of the 6th, 15th and later the 28th Brigades, became operational in late 1940; and the 9th Division (Major-General Arthur Barstow), consisting of the 8th and 22nd Brigades, was established in Malaya during early 1941.
An Indian Army battalion was, understandably, modelled on the British Army establishment of four rifle companies each of three platoons, with a headquarters company composed of its various specialist platoons. At the brigade level, two of the three battalions were Indian and the third was usually a British battalion. In the case of the 12th Brigade the British unit was the 2nd Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. As expansion occurred, this time-tested practice became harder to employ. By December 1941, of the six Indian brigades in Malaya only three—the 6th, 12th and 15th—contained a British battalion. Lionel Wigmore in The Japanese Thrust: ‘It seems strange, therefore, that three British regular battalions—2/Loyals, 2/Gordons and 1/Manchester (a machine gun battalion)—were all relegated to the Singapore Fortress, a direct attack on the island being the least likely probable course of action.’36
