Bose had grand designs to raise the strength of the INA to 50,000 men and women under arms. This was unrealistic given the paucity of officers. But Bose was confident that ‘When I land in Bengal everyone will revolt. Wavell’s whole army will join me.’ In any case, the Japanese agreed to train and equip no more than 30,000 soldiers, formed into three divisions. On the purposes of the INA, too, the earlier differences persisted. Field Marshal Terauchi Hisaichi, the commander of Japanese forces in South-East Asia, wanted the INA to be used as field propaganda units. Bose, however, insisted that the INA would lead the offensive on India. ‘Any liberation of India secured through Japanese sacrifices’, he maintained, ‘is worse than slavery.’ Terauchi eventually agreed to deploy one INA brigade in the front line to test its mettle and morale.52
On 21 October 1943, Bose announced the formation of the Provisional Government of Azad Hind (‘Free India’). As head of state, he held the foreign affairs and war portfolios. Eleven other colleagues, including eight INA officers, were sworn in as members of the cabinet. Three days later, the Provisional Government declared war on Britain and the United States. By declaring the United States an enemy, Bose was not only underlining his intent to take on the American troops on Indian soil but also reaching out to Japan and the Axis powers. Nine states, including Japan and Germany, granted diplomatic recognition to the Provisional Government.
In his dealings with Japan as head of the Provisional Government, Bose sought to display considerable independence. Thus, when the Japanese Foreign Office sent a junior civilian official, Kakitsubo Masayoshi, as diplomatic representative to the Provisional Government, Bose refused to officially recognize him as such.53 In early November, Bose travelled to Tokyo and negotiated on equal terms with Tojo. He asked Japan to hand over the Indian territory of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands in the Bay of Bengal to the Provisional Government. And he wanted to deploy a full division of the INA in combat. Bose also attended the Great East Asia Conference on 5–6 November, but only as an ‘observer’. The Japanese Foreign Office observed that this was because ‘he was of the opinion that India would not join the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere’.54
Tojo indulged Bose’s pretensions to independence. The propaganda value of the man was worth more to the Japanese than all the divisions of the INA. So, after Bose’s speech at the Tokyo Conference, Tojo responded by reiterating Japan’s support for Indian independence. He also announced that the Andaman and Nicobar Islands would soon be transferred to the Provisional Government of Azad Hind. Bose’s idea of turning the Indian army against the Raj was now in the realm of possibility.
13
Allies at War
The assignment in the Arakan was a welcome respite for Frank Moraes. The war had seen the departure of most of his British colleagues on the Times of India and Moraes had found himself chained to an editorial desk. In January 1943, he was nominated by his former deputy editor – now director of public relations – Brigadier Ivor Jehu, to cover the forthcoming campaign against the Japanese in the Arakan. The freshly accredited war correspondent stopped on his way in Calcutta. There he came across Americans en masse for the first time. ‘[A]ccustomed to seeing India through Hollywood’s cameras as a fabulous land peopled by Maharajas and elephants,’ he would recall, the Americans ‘were appalled and sickened by the stink and poverty of the place.’ They were also censorious of the Raj. As they saw the hungry poor huddled on the streets of Calcutta and peering at the shops, a GI growled to Moraes: ‘If I were they, I’d smash those glass windows and help myself to all that’s there.’1
British troops, for their part, saw the Americans as lavish in their style and loutish in their sensibilities. As a British officer in India observed, ‘They [Americans] seem to be heartily disliked by all our boys.’ Part of the problem was the disparity in salaries and hence social standing: ‘how on earth can a British Sgt [Sergeant] be pally with an American of the same rank when the Yank is drawing 1200/- a month, and flings money around? … pinching people’s servants for four or five times the salary we are able to pay them.’ British soldiers also found the Americans’ behaviour boorish. A typical complaint was: ‘The Yanks came down to the institute and got drunk and wanted to create trouble.’ The American soldier’s libido seemed equally out of control. A British soldier wrote from Calcutta:
The Americans are making themselves a nuisance over here, the other day they raped two girls, and sometime back a girl was found unconscious in one of the boy’s rooms at the Grand Hotel. They are also causing a lot of fights amongst the English lads, and I think there will be bloodshed soon over here by the way things are going … The sooner the Yanks get out of here, the better, they are such a wild crowd.2
Officers on both sides made ‘determined efforts … to improve relations between BORs [British Other Ranks] and American enlisted men’.3 Yet their own relationships were far from easy. American officers took a dim view of the pomp and circumstance of the Raj. New Delhi seemed rather unlike a wartime capital. The social calendar underwent only minor changes during the war, such as the dropping of the Delhi Horse Show Week from the winter of 1942. The daughter of a British officer from the Rajputana Rifles recalled:
Dances every night at several places to the music of Glen Miller, Benny Goodman and all the other favourites of the time. There was the Imperial Hotel, or Wengers Ballroom, or the IDG Club, and there was a marvellous place a little outside Delhi called the Roshanara Club, which was mainly rich Indians, we danced out of doors there on a drugget with a background of fireflies … One night at the Imperial, Noel Coward turned up … The IDG club had a lovely swimming pool, and a regimental band played on the lawn on Sunday mornings, there were picnics, cinemas and supper parties.4
Some of this was undoubtedly enforced gaiety to take minds off the war. Yet the Americans felt that ‘It was hard to take our main work seriously in that atmosphere … Life in the evening was a rather hectic round of social festivity.’5
British officials, in turn, arched their eyebrows at such American practices as the segregation of Blacks in military units. Not only did African-Americans serve in separate units, but their social life in India was segregated too. In Calcutta, for instance, Black soldiers only frequented places like the Cosmos Club, managed by Black women from the Red Cross, or the Grand Hotel where Black pianist Teddy Wetherford performed with an Indian band. The US army sought to muffle criticism by producing a propaganda film – shot in Karachi and edited in Bombay – of ‘coloured troops, their activities, recreational facilities and mode of living in India’. The African-American soldiers’ experience in India was mixed. On the one hand, many Indians – especially of the upper classes and castes – displayed a ‘marked attitude of aloofness’ and a ‘superiority complex’ towards Black GIs.6 On the other hand, they seem to have got on fine with at least some segments of local society. As the American military authorities noted, ‘Negroes frequently are invited to attend native civilian parties to which white troops are not invited. Many Negro soldiers attempt to adopt civilian children as “mascots”.’7
Friction between soldiers and officers was replicated in the ties between the commanders. Differences at the top, though, turned on the question of the strategy to be adopted in Burma and the resources to be devoted to it. These strategic, operational and logistical discussions were overlaid by sharp political differences. As earlier, the Americans were disinclined to shore up British rule in India or elsewhere, while the British, led by Churchill, were determined to restore the prestige of the Empire. Papering over these cracks proved almost as taxing as preparing to take on the Japanese.
The loss of Burma heightened American concerns about China’s continued determination to resist the Japanese. The War Department’s policy paper was tellingly titled ‘Keeping China in the War’. Tangible support would have to be offered to Chiang Kai-shek in order to buttress his position. It was imperative to reopen the Burma Road, for airlifts alone could not deliver enough supplies over the Him
alayan ‘Hump’ to China. The strategic responsibility for an offensive into Burma had to rest with Britain and India – supported by the American Tenth Air Force and Lend-Lease supplies.8 General Stilwell initially called for the deployment of American divisions to retake Burma. ‘I feel certain a serious mistake is being made in not sending American combat units into this theatre’, he cabled Washington on 25 May 1942.9 When General Marshall, the army chief of staff, and Roosevelt shot down this proposal, Stilwell turned his attention to two other pressing problems: training the Chinese troops, and securing Chiang’s assent to using them for an offensive on Burma.
Around 10,000 Chinese soldiers had escaped overland to India from Burma. Most of them were in terrible physical shape, having had little access to food, water or medicines during the 200-mile trek. The Indian government decided to host them at a capacious camp in the town of Ramgarh in Bihar. The location was originally a prisoner-of-war camp, with several thousand German and Italian internees from North Africa. From early June 1942, Stilwell designated it the Ramgarh Training Center. Soon American supplies and trainers trickled into the camp. In July, the first trainload of Chinese troops arrived, followed by the rest over the next couple of months.
The Americans found Ramgarh reprehensible: ‘hot, dusty, itchy, far from anything green or pleasant. The food was bad and the barracks cramped. The movies were old and Red Cross hamburger parlors and recreation rooms mocked rather than relieved the loneliness and exhaustion of the GIs.’10 The Chinese, however, had seen nothing like it. There was ample food and meat for everyone: on average the emaciated Chinese soldier put on 20 pounds. The hospital treated them for everything from ulcers to malaria. Above all, they were paid – albeit in Indian rupees.
Stilwell and his subordinates drew up a serious programme of basic, advanced and special training. Chinese soldiers were paired with American instructors who taught them everything from fixing truck tyres to firing artillery guns. The Chinese were also put through an eight-day course in jungle warfare. Five days were devoted to learning the craft of surviving and fighting in the jungle; the remainder were spent on a continuous field exercise.11 Although there was considerable friction, not least owing to the language barrier, the Chinese proved quick on the uptake. ‘Thank God we don’t speak Chinese and don’t have enough interpreters,’ said an American officer. ‘We demonstrate and they copy. They are the greatest mimics in the world and are learning very, very fast.’ When Stilwell showed Chiang photographs of Ramgarh in September 1942, the Generalissimo was pleased. ‘Why shouldn’t he be, the little jackass?’ Stilwell noted in his diary. ‘We are doing our damnedest to help him and he makes his approval look like a tremendous concession.’12
Chiang promptly agreed to fly more troops to India for training. Stilwell initially proposed to bring in an additional 8,000 soldiers. Soon he raised the number to 13,000, bringing the total at Ramgarh to 23,000. The Indian government, however, baulked at the prospect of having more Chinese soldiers on its territory. The viceroy felt Chiang had more than an eye on the future. The larger the Chinese participation in an attack on Burma, the greater their influence in deciding its future after the war. Further, Linlithgow was wary of Chiang’s dalliance with the Congress leadership and felt that the presence of large numbers of Chinese forces in Ramgarh might allow Chiang to meddle in Indian politics.13
‘So they are determined to bitch it’, thought Stilwell in early October. ‘ “Can’t have the dirty Chinks”; Long-range policy: fear of Chinese-Indian co-operation; fear of independent operation; or what not.’ ‘Limeys getting nasty about Ramgarh’, he noted a few days later:
How many [Chinese] troops, and what for. WHAT FOR? My God! I told them to help our allies retake Burma. They are making it difficult; they don’t want to be beholden to the Chinese for anything. Same old stuff, like closing the Burma Road and refusing troops. They appear to learn nothing.14
Wavell was inclined to accept the request, but sought to cap the numbers at Ramgarh at 20,000. Yet Linlithgow wrote to Amery outlining his concerns, and Amery agreed with them. Accordingly, London requested Washington to withdraw the proposal. It was argued that there was no immediate military advantage in training such large numbers of Chinese in India. Besides, there were considerable administrative and logistical difficulties in hosting them.
The Americans not only persisted with their demand but increased the numbers. General Marshall said that they envisaged bringing the Chinese force in India up to anywhere between 30,000 and 40,000 troops. Even as New Delhi and London engaged in another round of deliberations, President Roosevelt floated a figure of 45,000. Wavell thought this absurd; but it was clear that further stonewalling would not work. Eventually, Wavell and Stilwell struck a bargain at 30,000 troops: a corps with two divisions. Stilwell confirmed this – only to ask for an additional 4,000. Delhi and London had little choice but to acquiesce.
In February 1943, Chiang and Stilwell wanted to send another division’s worth of troops to train in India. Linlithgow protested yet again:
The presence of Chinese troops may cause the Chinese government to meddle in Indian politics. They have already shown an embarrassing tendency in that direction … There may even be a danger of Chinese troops assisting the Congress Party … in the event of really serious civil disorders breaking out in India … [And] the greater the part which Chinese troops play in the reconquest or subsequent garrisoning of Burma, the greater the voice China will expect to have in the settlement of Burma’s future.15
The viceroy, however, gave in to London on the assurance that the number of Chinese troops was firmly and finally fixed at 42,000. Four months later, Stilwell returned with a demand to allow more Chinese troops: he wanted a total of 100,000. The additional 58,000, he informed Delhi, would arrive between August and December 1943.
The Americans, Wavell wrote to the chiefs of staff, had been ‘tiresome’ on this matter. They were continually asking for more, insisting each time that this was their last requirement: ‘it is rather like Hitler’s last territorial demand’. There was no question of accommodating 100,000 Chinese troops. Administratively, it would impose an enormous burden – not least in having to find another location apart from Ramgarh. Strategically, it was not possible to employ and support so many soldiers in Assam for operations into Burma. Politically, the issue was ‘even more complicated’. The Indian government was staunchly opposed to taking in more Chinese troops: ‘there are obvious objections to a large Chinese force in India or to the Chinese being able to claim that they played a preponderant part in the recapture of Burma’. Moreover, an increase in Chinese troops ‘undoubtedly means an increase of American influence and of American claims to run the campaign from Assam’. Ultimately, Wavell and Stilwell settled on 15,000 more troops from China.16
An agreement on the strategy for Burma proved rather more elusive. For one thing, Stilwell found it difficult to pin down Chiang Kai-shek on this matter. Following the debacle in Burma, Chiang had little confidence in Stilwell’s strategic acumen. Nor was he eager to throw his best-trained troops into battle with only half-baked preparation. However, Chiang did place a high premium on American power, believing that it could be deployed to good effect in the China theatre. At the end of June 1942, he was incensed when informed by Stilwell that the American B-29 heavy bombers located in India for operations in China were being moved to the Middle East for the ongoing battle with the Afrika Korps. The Generalissimo advanced three demands as a condition for continued co-operation with the United States: three American divisions should be despatched to India by September; 500 American planes should operate in the China theatre; and the monthly air supplies should be raised to 5,000 tons. Only in October did Roosevelt formally agree to two of Chiang’s demands. As before, there was no question of sending American divisions.17
Meanwhile, Stilwell sought to placate the Generalissimo and offer him a ‘face saving’ solution to the impasse. He suggested that if Chiang agreed to participate in an offensive on
Burma, the United States would have no option but to accede to his demands. ‘If the Chinese and American units are ready to move’, he wrote, ‘the British could hardly fail to act to regain their own territory.’ Stilwell drew up a plan that envisaged a two-pronged attack, with China contributing twenty divisions for the land offensive while British would regain naval superiority in the Indian Ocean by retaking the Andaman Islands and landing in Rangoon. Chiang accepted the idea, but shrewdly insisted ‘that the attitude of Great Britain in this case should first be ascertained and that she be urged to act’.18
Stilwell’s staff felt that the British ‘have no intention of attempting to retake Burma in the foreseeable future’. This stance stemmed from
a British conviction that no Asiatic possession is worth any appreciable diversion of strength from the British Isles; that the war will be won in Europe; and that lost possessions will at the Peace Conference revert with clear title to the British if those colonies remain upon termination of hostilities under enemy occupation, whereas if those possessions are reoccupied with Chinese and American assistance British title may be compromised.19
This was a shrewd assessment of some of the impulses behind the British attitude towards Burma. Yet the Americans were wrong in believing that in the summer of 1942 the British had no desire to take back Burma.
Even before the evacuation from Burma, Wavell had been thinking of its reconquest. As early as 16 April 1942, he informed the chiefs of his intention ‘to begin as soon as possible consideration of an offensive to reoccupy Burma’. He was aware that this was ‘a long-term project’ but felt that it must get off the ground right away. First it was essential to establish air superiority over Burma from airbases in north-east India. Since this would take time – not least because of the paucity of long-range bombers – Wavell began thinking about limited operations to secure part of upper Burma, north of Mandalay, during the dry season from December 1942 to May 1943. The plan, he wrote to Churchill in early June, was to advance on Myitkyina from Ledo and Kalewa, exploiting any success by moving towards the Irrawaddy, and supporting the operation with diversionary attacks elsewhere. The logistical problems confronting him were formidable. Roads and railway links between India and Assam, as well as in Assam itself, were ‘extremely poor’. There were practically no roads in upper Burma. ‘Troops will require much training … in bush warfare and animal transport.’ Above all, airbases would have to be constructed; and long-range bombers and fighters urgently acquired.20
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