Knight's Move (Kirov Series Book 21)

by John Schettler

  The last battalion off the boat, following the Maori troops, turned quite a few heads, the men were shorter, yet well built and stocky in stature. They moved with a precision that spoke of thorough military training and ironclad discipline. Their kit, backpacks and rifles seemed unfamiliar, and each man carried what looked like a machete at the back of his belt, a long curved knife. In fact, they were the last gift Wavell had sent, Kinlan’s elite Gurkha Battalion, armed to the teeth with modern assault rifles, ATGMs and even Swingfire anti-air missile teams.

  Someone got hold of a bagpipe, and the squeal of the pipes welcomed the boys ashore. For the first time in many weeks, people smiled. They shook their fists and shouted to the lads to go and give it to the Japs—stick it to them, give them the boot and brawn. And that was exactly what Bernard Law Montgomery had set his mind to do—and then some.

  * * *

  To prepare for his attack, Yamashita and his God of Operations, Tsuji, would occupy the opulent palace of the Sultan of Johor, Ibrahim II. When the British were there, he coddled to them with gifts and favors. Now that the Japanese had come, he wisely had a Japanese flag raised from his high palace tower, overlooking the straits and presenting a splendid view of the city of Singapore beyond. The 25th Army had come over 700 miles in just 54 days, through forbidding jungle, and over countless rivers which they crossed by storm or the sweat of their troops and engineers, building well over 200 new bridges.

  It had all been done exactly as Tsuji said it would, by using the materials and supplies, and the physical assets the British already had in place there, and with a little dash, fervor and abundant imagination and courage. When news came to Churchill that his Malaya defenders were now bottled up in Singapore, he seemed listless and worried. He had been told, long ago by Fedorov, that this would happen. It seemed that in spite of his constant urging, nothing could be done to stem the flood of the Japanese offensive. The British Generals thought they would hold Malaya for a year to eighteen months. They lost it in six weeks.

  The night of February 1st, a week earlier than in Fedorov’s history, Colonel Ikatani, Yamashita’s Quartermaster, reported that the shortages of petrol and ammunition were very serious.

  “We have come a long way, fighting the whole distance, and stores are very low. If we have to fight a long siege here, I believe we will fail. It may be better to wait until we have time to bring up more fuel and ammunition.”

  “Impossible,” said Yamashita. “We must be in the city by the 11th of February. This is imperative.”

  “Very well, then shall I order the artillery officers to ration their fires?”

  Yamashita thought for a moment. “No. Have them make a powerful opening barrage. I want the enemy to think we are stronger than we truly are. We must make them believe what they already fear—that we are invincible.”

  Yamashita left the opulent palace and moved to an abandoned bungalow near the village of Kulang, summoning his officers for a final briefing. “We have lost nearly 1800 men since we landed, but here we stand, victorious, inflicting many times our losses on the enemy. Now the spirits and ghosts of those men who sacrificed themselves are watching us. The final victory lies ahead, on that island, where we will humble our enemy once and for all, and deliver a prize of great value to the Empire. But this must be done before the anniversary of the 11th of February. Never forget that. The division who reaches Singapore first will gain lasting glory.”

  The men assembled all cheered at that, pledging they would be the first to enter the city. “And so we strike the northwest shoreline tonight, but we will also bombard in the north, where the Guards division will demonstrate to confuse the enemy as to our real intentions. The 5th and 18th Divisions will begin their crossing to assault the island a few hours after sunset, and be well ashore on the other side of the strait by dawn. Our first task is to secure the airfield at Tengah. After that we will drive up the road to this village, Bukit Panjang. Then Phase two of the assault begins, with the Imperial Guards Division crossing to seize the causeway and push south to the village of Mandai. They will then drive east, and cut off any forces defending the British Naval Base. After that, we move south to Bukit Tamah, and the water reservoirs. When we capture those, their surrender must surely follow soon after.”

  Lieutenant General Takuma Nishimura, commander of the Imperial Guards Division, had been most unhappy to hear these orders. He had already been asked to make a demonstration against the eastern defenses of the island, sending a battalion to occupy a small islet there, and to threaten the naval base. Yet such an assignment seemed demeaning to him, while the two regular army divisions were both massing to attack the other side of the island.

  “This is an insult to my division, and to me personally,” He steamed, saying his men were not shadow puppets, but the elite guards of the Konoye Regiments, and he was eager to bloody his samurai sword.

  In truth, the “elite” troops were in both those regular army divisions, the 5th and 18th. In spite of its impressive name, the Imperial Guards here had little military experience, though they fought well against the 45th Indian Brigade on the Muar River earlier. Nishimura was eager to win more laurels for his men, and was bitterly disappointed that his troops would be used as a feint in the initial attack, and as a follow up force in subsequent operations.

  He had been so eager to bloody his sword, that he ordered the massacre of 155 prisoners after that first battle on the Muar River, and would later be tried and executed for war crimes, which included his participation in the massacre of Chinese civilians.

  Yamashita heard his complaint, but said nothing more, offering the officers a toast of sake. When he offered a cup to Nishimura, the Lieutenant General turned his back and strode away. He would hold a grudge against Yamashita ever thereafter for the slight he thought he had received here, fuming that he would get his men into the battle one way or another. It would be his wounded pride that would have an unexpected effect on the battle, just one of the many instances where the will of a single man could strongly influence the course of events.

  That night, the Japanese sent three swimmers across the strait to reconnoiter the position. They reported back that most of the north coast west of Kanji was simply undefended, though they found signs of positions that had been abandoned there in recent days. The morning of the 4th of February, observation balloons were seen floating over Johore Bahru, with a single observer in each to spy on what the British were up to. Later that day, Nishimura penned a formal demand to General Yamashita. “My troops must be given the chance to demonstrate their bravery,” he wrote.

  Though he was inclined to ignore the letter, Yamashita began to have second thoughts when the balloon observers reported a buildup near the causeway. So he went to Nishimura and gave him permission to attack directly against this position, thinking it would still be a good diversion from his main landings to the west. Only he ordered him to begin the assault at noon the following day.

  Having other ideas, Nishimura planned an immediate seizure of the causeway bridge, ordering his engineers to make ready for repair work as soon as his men gained the far shore.

  Colonel Iwaguro’s 5th Konoye Imperial Guards Regiment was chosen for the attack, a formation of three battalions supported by the engineers. “Attack at noon?” he said to the Colonel. “Ridiculous! We will begin the operation immediately, taking every advantage of the cover of night.” He also disobeyed his orders to concentrate his artillery fire on inland targets, redirecting it to fire right on the Australian battalions of Taylor’s 22nd Brigade. At dawn, his initial attack would fall on II/20 Battalion and C Company, Royal Engineers, just east of the causeway.

  That night, the crossings were made in wood and canvass boats, 100 for each of the two primary assault divisions, wand a few heavier rafts that could support the weight of light artillery pieces. They formed up in the estuaries of rivers flowing into the strait, and slowly edged out into the open waters, the first wave being 4000 strong. They were expecting a to
ugh defense on the opposite shore, but would find it completely abandoned, the darkness and quiet heavy on the water, with the moon the barest morning crescent, casting thin pale light on the water.

  Yamashita had returned to the high tower of the Sultan’s palace, watching and waiting with his staff. There would be no radio communications established to his two assault divisions, but as midnight passed, he saw the first sign of success rise in a red star shell over the beaches closest to his position. 5th Division had made a safe crossing, securing a beachhead and pushing inland unopposed. They heard the boom of a distant gun, the shore battery at Pasir Laba to the south, which scored a lucky hit on one of the engineering barges. Then, minutes later, a white star shell rose, brighter than the thin moon, and Yamashita knew 18th Division was ashore. What he did not know is that Nishimura’s Imperial Guards were also nosing their rafts into the black waters of the strait, paddling towards the far edge of the causeway, and hoping to take it by surprise and storm. It wasn’t until he heard the small arms fire coming from that direction that he realized something was happening at the causeway.

  “What is going on there?” he said sternly to a staff officer. “Nishimura was not to attack there until noon!”

  Unfortunately, it was already high noon in Nishimura’s mind, and he was going to do everything possible to show Yamashita what he and his men could accomplish.

  Chapter 11

  Major General Gordon Bennett finally got his troops redeployed, and he was down in the ranks with the men at Kanji village, a small town just west of the Causeway. He was feeling a good deal better about his situation, glad to have his two brigades under Taylor and Maxwell, side by side.

  “Much better ground here sir,” said a Sergeant. “I’ve got decent fields of fire for my machineguns. Out west we couldn’t see anything but the bloody Mangroves and rubber trees.”

  “Glad to hear it,” said Bennett, removing his hat. “Good to feel the sun on this old bald head of mine, but stay alert, because the Japs will want that causeway bridge, and this village with it.”

  Bennett had fought in the ill fated landings at Gallipoli, a battalion commander then, where he was wounded when his troops were cut off by the Turks, and literally wiped out. That experience, and the long retreat he had just made down the Malay Peninsula, left him in a state of mind to always keep a wary eye over his shoulder. Later he would move up to command 3rd Infantry Brigade, fighting at Passchendaele and the Hindenburg Line with distinction. He had already been admitted to the Order of the Bath, and had his DSO by 1919. An opinionated man, some believed he did not think much of British commanders, particularly Percival, but he had been willing to give Montgomery the benefit of the doubt.

  “What do you make of him?” asked the Sergeant.

  “Haven’t heard or seen much,” said Bennett. “He’s a teetotaler, and any man who can’t stomach a good whiskey is questionable, but there’s nothing wrong with his orders. I agree, we’re in a much better position here. That said, have your men write any letters they may want to send home.”

  Bennett had become a controversial figure in this battle when he refused to become a prisoner and commandeered a sampan to escape the island. Some said he should not have abandoned his troops, others that he had done the right and expedient thing, though he had not yet been tested in this 11th hour.

  * * *

  The action started a little after midnight, when the restless sentries thought they heard movement near the water by the causeway. A sentry team of two men slipped out of their slit trench, and scrambled down towards the embankment, and minutes later the sound of sporadic rifle file alerted the whole battalion that the enemy was here. It could have been a probing attack, a feint as had been initially ordered, but something told Bennett otherwise. He had seen those flares to the west, and knew the enemy was signaling something of importance. As those first shots were fired, the battle of Singapore would begin on the island itself, and his battalions would have a front row seat.

  It was hot action all that night, with the Australians holding their ground in the face of Iwaguro’s initial attack. Machineguns chattered and fired at anything that moved in the shadows hovering near the dark waters, then, on Bennett’s command, the Aussies switched on three search lights that had been rigged up with portable generators. As the glare of the beams illuminated the scene, they could see about twenty assault boats still in the water, and the shoreline dotted with enemy infantry.

  Now mortar shells fell down the short metal tubes and hissed up with a pop, exploding around the causeway seconds later. The Japanese had a heavy machinegun team deployed, and it began to growl at the heights above, the bright tracers scoring the night. Deep throated shouts from officers were urging the guardsmen forward, and several platoon sized rushes were made, one led by a lieutenant brandishing his samurai sword. The Australians opened up with everything they had, and the casualties were heavy for the Japanese in those first hours.

  The action was bitter all night as Iwaguro’s three battalions built up on the shoreline. They soon perceived that the weak link in the Australian defense was the company of Royal Engineers, and 1st Battalion of the 5th Imperial Guards led the attack there. Unfortunately, the engineers had sewn mines and laid wire, and they had three Vickers machineguns with them. A scene that might have occurred in the last war resulted, with the Japanese infantry flinging themselves onto the wire to depress it for following troops, the mines detonating, sending bodies flying into the air, and then the Vickers guns rumbling away at the onrushing infantry. All that was missing was the artillery, but it wasn’t missing long.

  Taylor’s 2nd Field Artillery was on the high ground near Bennett’s headquarters, and they had fifteen 25-pounders. Soon the crack of those guns entered the rising swell of the battle noise, and their heavy shells began to fall with pre-registered fire.

  By dawn, with the position still holding, the Japanese were clinging to a narrow strip of land on the shoreline. Bennett ordered up the one reserve battalion in his sector, and directed his artillery to begin shelling the causeway itself. Unaware that enemy engineers had been working all night to rig up a section of bridge reinforced by steel rails they had discovered in Johore, he nonetheless suspected the Japanese had been using the bridge to get half way over the strait before lowering light rafts and rubber boats to complete their crossing. To his great surprise, after working all night and through the entire morning, the dogged engineers had been able to set the rails in closely spaced bundles, covering them with cross planks of timber.

  They were already placing heavier wood beams to reinforce the structure from below when the first light broke and the Australian artillery began to fall. This soon prompted a vigorous round of counter battery fire on and around Bennett’s HQ, which was so disruptive that he decided to move his staff elsewhere. He got to a car and was moving to the Mandai road when a Sergeant flagged him down with some alarming news.

  “It’s tanks, sir. Japanese got three over the causeway bridge late today, and Brigadier Taylor says there’ll be more.”

  “Damn!” Bennett swore. “How in bloody hell did they manage that? Alright, the Indian division has a couple companies of 2-pounders at Nee Soon. Find a radio and get them moving on this road to Mandai. If the Japs get there with tanks, they can run right down the main road and rail line to the center of the island!”

  Get to a radio… Why in god’s name didn’t he have one with him? There simply weren’t enough to go around, and the two sets he had been allocated were somewhere on the road behind him. He saw a man on a small motorbike and collared him immediately.

  “Get to General Montgomery. Tell him the Japanese have managed to rig out a bridge over the causeway gap. They’re moving in armor—tanks!” Then he was off to Mandai, for that was where he most feared the enemy might come, a small village just down the road south of Kranji. The man started to say something, but Bennett was off, tapping his driver’s shoulder. As the car sped away, the man made a half-hearted salu
te, then scratched his head. He had no idea where Montgomery was, and no intention of looking for him. Instead he started down the road towards Singapore, his mind set on getting to the harbor.

  Further west, the landing of the Japanese 5th Infantry Division had gone off without a hitch, but as the troops pushed inland, they were suddenly ambushed by a company of Chinese volunteers from Dalforce. The Chinese had been ready to go into these positions as a forward screen, even though only half of them had rifles, and only 24 rounds each. They didn’t even have proper uniforms, and the men had tied red bandanas on their foreheads and white armbands to identify them as friendly troops to the British.

  That was how they would have fought, but the Empress of China had been saved by those Hurricanes, and so all the arms and stores had made it safely ashore. This time, all the men without rifles were issued combat shotguns, because the British doubted their marksmanship. They put them to good use, catching the Japanese unawares and popping up to blast them with shotgun fire at very close range. Their gallant stand was so effective, that two other Japanese battalions had to be deployed to make a prepared assault on their cleverly hidden positions. These men would fight so well that they would come to be known as “Dalley’s Desperados,” but 1st Company would soon be enfiladed, overrun and killed to the last man. The death they had there in the Mangroves was infinitely better than the one they might have otherwise suffered. Yet in all this early action, word filtered back to Yamashita, and left him with one salient question. Where were the British?

  * * *