by Paul Scott
‘If Mr Gandhi can believe this about the Japanese and make millions of Indian civilians believe it, Captain Mohan Singh presumably had no tremendous difficulty in making thousands of naturally apprehensive Indian prisoners of war believe it. Perhaps the remarkable thing is that for the many he seems to have persuaded as many – indeed many more – have remained unconvinced. I say remarkable because the consequences of resisting persuasion cannot have been, cannot be pleasant. In front of the eyes of your stubborn prisoner, officer, NCO or sepoy, things doubtless happened which made the decision to remain a prisoner and loyal to the crown a difficult one. Additionally they saw erstwhile members of the raj, the white sahibs, submitted to all the indignities we now know the Japanese are adept at devising. Add to the sight of these indignities the threats of hunger, thirst and physical coercion and it obviously requires a special stoutness of heart to resist the blandishments of men who yesterday were your leaders and comrades and who offer to be leaders and comrades again in an enterprise which is projected as patriotic. A prisoner is always homesick too and here is Captain Mohan Singh, supported now by many other Indian officers I’m afraid, promising to lead him home in a particularly glorious way, to a home from which the British have gone forever, to a home where the old national leaders, many of them worn and thin from prison, will greet him as a hero, as a liberator, as a true son of the India they too have fought for.’
Again Merrick paused.
‘The question of what loyalty is isn’t easily answered.’
The remark only deepened the silence. Merrick referred to his notes.
‘The Indian National Army under Mohan Singh consisted of approximately 10,000 ex-prisoners, officers and men, but according to our information little more than half of them had arms. However, if there had been arms and equipment readily available that number of ten thousand would have been considerably increased. Broadly speaking, Indian prisoners of war fall now into three categories – those who have so far resisted all persuasion and continue as prisoners, those who have not resisted but have indicated readiness to serve, and those who have actually been mustered in. This information is restricted. As you will appreciate when bearing in mind that figure of 10,000, and official Indian government comment and counter-propaganda, the policy is to deflect attention from this situation by minimizing its importance and ridiculing claims made by the enemy. But enemy broadcasts are regularly listened to by those civilians in this country who are rich enough to have wireless sets capable of receiving them. Foreign broadcasting is of course the one form of communication upon which Government cannot place an embargo. There have been instances of Indian families recognizing the voices of relatives who were officers in the Indian Army but who are now officers in the INA and who give stirring accounts of the great things which the INA will presently do.
‘The question is, will they? I mention vicissitudes. Right from the beginning there appears to have been not unexpectedly an element of Japanese contempt for the Azad Hind Fauj matched by an element of Azad Hind suspicion of Japanese intentions, and some resistance to Japanese attempts to treat the INA as a mere appendage of their own imperial army. Under Mohan Singh the INA was theoretically the military arm of a civil independence movement headed by Rash Behari Bose, and after a conference in Bangkok this movement dedicated itself to take actions which would be wholly in line with the nationalist policies adopted here in India by the All India Congress.
‘From February to August 1942, you’ll recall, the Congress in India was demanding that the British quit India, that they should leave India, in Gandhi’s memorable phrase, to God or to anarchy. What would happen if the British didn’t quit was left, on paper, not very clear. But that is by the way. What did happen was clear enough.
‘What I think important to bear in mind is the effect the news of Congress’s demands, and of the outcome of those demands, must have had on Indian prisoners of war in Malaya and Burma, particularly upon those who had now committed themselves to the INA. It must have seemed to them that India was about to rise and throw the British out, that great events were afoot, that history was making their decision for them. True, their technical allegiance was to King and Country but if the mother country did not want the King and was about to get rid of him that left them with the country alone. They certainly belonged to that. It was their country after all. But apart from the matter of the British there was the matter of the Japanese. What truly were their intentions? Would they really leave India alone if the British were got rid of? INA officers have openly said to their troops that whereas the troops must be ready to fight the British – even their own old officers and comrades – they must be just as ready to fight the Japanese if the latter showed any signs of substituting the Rising Sun for the Union Jack. And there was another great INA uncertainty. Would Congress really approve of the Azad Hind Fauj?’
Merrick stopped to give the question time to sink in, it seemed. Perhaps that was his prime intention but suddenly he looked down at Colonel Selby-Smith and said, ‘Sir, I believe the No Smoking signs are intended to apply only to the period of discussion about the scheme. I expect quite a number of people would appreciate it if you felt inclined to give permission to smoke.’
Presumably Selby-Smith nodded because Merrick glanced up and nodded to the hall, which now came stealthily alive. Teddie opened his own case in nervous gratitude. In a few seconds the hall looked like an Indian bazaar during the festival of Divali, but the business of lighting up was completed with unusual rapidity. In less than half a minute the hall was quiet again.
‘This was the question. Would Congress really approve of the Azad Hind Fauj? Would they give their blessing to an operation that might lead to a bloody meeting between a rebel nationalist army and the regular Indian army? The INA assumed that upon its appearance on Indian soil the Indian army proper would disintegrate and its sepoys join hands with their rebel brothers. But even if Congress also assumed this could they accept the INA as a legal instrument of their own policy of achieving self-government?
‘Quite apart from the views of the moderates and constitutionalists, the kind of Congressmen who had thought their fellow Congressman Subhas Chandra Bose an extremely dangerous man, there was the other Gandhian principle of non-violence to consider. To find out the answer to this question then, it was decided to send a group of INA officers into Burma, well-equipped with means of radio communication, to infiltrate secretly into India and contact Indian political leaders. This was done in August 1942. The enterprise was a total failure because one of the chosen officers took the first opportunity to abandon the group and to contact us and thoroughly spill the beans. The rest returned to Malaya disillusioned and the officer who reneged on them brought with him very useful documents and information. This officer is not named, but he is a bright spot on a somewhat dark horizon. It is his belief that more than a few officers and men joined the INA with the same intention as himself of either wrecking it from within or of coming back to their loyal duty directly contact was re-established with the Army to which they really belong. In other words it is suggested that they used the INA as a rather specialized means of escape from prison-camp which as we all know it is a soldier’s duty to try to effect.’
An officer at the front said, ‘Hear, hear.’ Someone clapped. Merrick waited. He kept his eyes on the lectern and turned a page of his notes. Resuming he said:
‘The spot on the horizon would be brighter however if all the officers in the infiltrating party had done precisely the same thing. We must have fairly deep reservations about the extent to which this joining up as a preliminary to returning to duty represents a significant factor in the constitution and motives of the INA. Nevertheless in any future confrontation with INA units and formations in the field it must obviously be borne in mind that not all INA soldiers on the other side of the wire, so to speak, are necessarily intent on attacking us. Some of them may be looking only for an opportunity to come in with their arms to turn them against the Japanese.
Just how many we shall have no way of knowing until the time arises – if and.when it does.
‘But there will be a natural tendency among Indian sepoys and among other ranks in British battalions to resent these apparent deserters and traitors quite intensely, a tendency not to extend to them those military civilities we are required to show in the field to the fallen, the wounded and the captured.
‘One of the main purposes of this talk is to establish certain facts and to provide what is hoped will be useful background knowledge so that we can avoid the worst effects both of minimization and exaggeration of the problem presented by the existence of this army. My own view is that whatever one’s personal reactions, corporate judgment must certainly be suspended until all the facts are known. Meanwhile the restricted information presently given can settle quietly in our minds and may help us to exert a steadying influence on the men under our command if and when this division finds itself in action against units or formations of the INA. I will end this survey with an account of what has happened since the failure of the infiltrating party.
‘There’s no doubt that political events in India in August 1942, culminating in the severe riots that followed the detention of members of the Congress Party committees and sub-committees, had at least a potentially vitalizing effect on recruitment of prisoners of war into the INA, but the INA itself seems to have suffered a fairly severe crisis of confidence, in regard to Japanese intentions and in regard to its own. The major question whether the Congress Party would approve had gone unanswered and with all Congress’s influential policy-makers in jail there was now no hope of getting it answered.
‘Captain Mohan Singh was naturally at the storm-centre of this crisis of confidence. Without going so far as to say that he personally agreed with the stand the Azad Hind Fauj was making he was as its head inevitably identified with it and we may give him the benefit of the doubt here, credit him as I hinted earlier with a certain stubborn adherence to what may be called honourable principles. The main stand that seems to have been made was over areas of responsibility. What the INA was saying was that it and it alone must deal with India. Correlatively it was saying it would have nothing to do with Japanese operations elsewhere – for instance against Burmese nationalist guerrillas. To those people in the Japanese Imperial army who thought contemptuously of the INA as a mere appendage this attitude was totally unacceptable and we can assume that considerable pressure was brought to bear on Mohan Singh to conform, to put his forces at their disposal without reservations. Equal pressure was doubtless brought to bear on him by INA officers who stood by the policy of working only according to Congress principles and who saw these as integral to the principles of action and thinking in the INA. One has a picture here of the whole organization of the INA trembling on the brink of disruption.
‘In December last Mohan Singh was arrested by the Japanese. The actual reasons remain to be discovered although it is believed that Rash Behari Bose was at the bottom of it. As a politician, Rash Behari presumably had a talent for bobbing like a cork on the stormiest waters, for his own position was not immediately affected. But for the first six months of this year the Azad Hind movement and the INA had a look of being something of a broken reed. It needed a strong man to mend it, a man talented enough to satisfy both sides, the Indians and the Japanese, with his views, policies and capacity for leadership.
‘Who else but Subhas Chandra Bose? But he was in Germany. Was in Germany. Just a few weeks ago in June this ubiquitous gentleman turned up in Tokyo. The information we have is that he came out by submarine – a typically glamorous, apparently hazardous enterprise – but, let it be marked, not one he could have embarked on without the approval, indeed the wishes, of the government in Tokyo. From Tokyo he has broadcast speeches which leave no room for doubt that he is in his own eyes the man of destiny whom the Azad Hind movement and the Japanese have been waiting for. In Singapore last month he was elected President of the Indian Independence League, the other Bose – Rash Behari – having resigned to make room for him. So there we have it: Mohan Singh a prisoner, we believe in Sumatra, and Rash Behari gone into the retirement which is the reward of failure. In their place, Subhas Chandra Bose.
‘He has not yet formally assumed command of the Azad Hind Fauj but that can only be a matter of time. We can indeed expect Mr Bose to claim authority over all Indian nationals in the Far East and manipulate a kind of legality for the entire proceedings by the establishment of a form of free Indian government in exile, recognized on paper anyway by the Japanese and their allies in what they call Asian coprosperity. He is that kind of man. His qualities of leadership must not be under-estimated. These were qualities that frightened several senior Congress politicians off him in the past. He was thought by them to have the makings of a dictator. One feels inclined to agree.
‘This survey ends, therefore, on a note of some assurance about the continuity and enlargement of the INA as a machine of war that it would be as foolish to underestimate as it would be to allow its existence and inevitable growth to distract attention from the principal and still very dangerous and highly ambitious enemy, the Japanese. It seems to me to be very unlikely that even under Bose, who will almost certainly enjoy outwardly cordial and co-operative relations with the Japanese high command, the INA will ever slot anything but uncomfortably into the Japanese military machine and this may well contribute to its downfall. The other contributory factors to this likely downfall are of course its logistic problems and the mixed psychology and motives of its members. In terms of its capacity to equip itself either in co-operation or competition with the Japanese it must rank as a low-priority organization. In terms of its psychology and motivation it must rank as something less than an army capable of achieving a high and durable morale. How much less capable will depend on the magic of Mr Bose. But even the most skilful magician cannot sustain for long an illusion of common purpose when the purpose itself is so riddled with complexity. This will emerge as an important factor when Indian soldiers of the INA – intent on liberating India – come face to face with Indian soldiers who are under our command and are loyally determined to defend it from whomsoever dares set foot on Indian soil aiming a rifle at them.’
Merrick picked up his notes and had retrieved his briefcase before the audience quite realized he had finished. Although the applause broke out before he actually left the platform he did not remain to receive what might then have looked like a personal ovation, and was down the steps and returning to his seat when the applause was at its peak.
Selby-Smith rose and climbed on to the stage. As he stood at the lectern he clapped his hands about four times to demonstrate his own approval and to give a lead in the matter of bringing the ovation to an end. When he stopped clapping he seemed to be requesting silence and quite quickly got it.
He said, ‘Although this meeting has now gone on for longer than many of you anticipated, what we have just heard so ably and interestingly presented was certainly worth staying to hear. I think there is no disagreement on that score. On your behalf I thank Captain Merrick for the trouble he has taken to present a clear picture of this rather sticky subject. In bringing the meeting to a close I would firmly reiterate that the subject of the INA is not one that the divisional commander wishes to have generally or casually discussed among you. In other words keep what you’ve heard this morning under your hats. Junior officers and NCOS have a particular responsibility to be alert for gossip and rumour among the men and to report its existence without taking steps to squash it until they’ve had advice on the line to take. That is all, gentlemen.’
A bit stunned by what he had heard Teddie did not seize the opportunity that now presented itself to meet his room-companion. He found it easier to go with the stream making for the doors than against it down to the front where Merrick stood alone doing up the straps of his briefcase. At the foyer doors which had been swung open and latched back by the guards Teddie nearly changed his mind because the idea of Merrick
standing by himself made him feel he was not being as friendly as he should be, but someone spoke to him and when he next thought about Merrick he was climbing into the back of the 15 cwt Chevrolet – the last man of a party of five. The driver put up the tailboard and in a moment or two the truck was entering the queue for the exit from the forecourt.
In B mess he sat with two other officers in the anteroom and ordered beer. At five to one he saw Merrick come in. This time he wasn’t alone. An Indian and an English officer accompanied him, guests from one of the brigades. Again he hesitated but just then Merrick’s glance fell on him and seemed to stay. Teddie stood up and went across and offered his hand.
‘I’m Teddie Bingham,’ he said. ‘What’ll it be?’
For a second or two he had a feeling that Merrick was wondering whether he should find the name familiar. His hand came out rather tentatively as if casual physical contact with someone not intimately known was ordinarily unwelcome. The handshake failed as such. Teddie was about to explain who he was when Merrick said, ‘We meet at last then.’ He still had Teddie’s hand and suddenly, unexpectedly, exerted grip, then quickly broke contact.
Between the man on the platform and the same man close to Teddie found a kind of discrepancy. When he thought about this afterwards he decided it was the same sort of discrepancy he’d noticed years ago in London when he was about twelve and his mother took him to a matinée and backstage afterwards to meet a man who’d played one of the character parts and still had his make-up on but spoke in an ordinary voice and seemed shy, but made up for it when they left by putting his arm round Teddie and giving him ten bob.
‘Whisky or gin?’ Teddie asked. ‘Or are you a beer only man at tiffin?’
‘It’s very good of you,’ Merrick began. Teddie now noticed that the blue of the fellow’s eyes was made particularly vivid by the steady way he considered you with them. ‘But I’m rather pressed. I’m supposed to be somewhere else at two o’clock so I’ll have to go right in. Could we make it this evening?’