Escape to Pagan

by Brian Devereux

  “’Quick our belongings are with the Pathan night watchman from Taunggyi, he is looking after them until I return.’ said my mother. I was so happy. The train had slowed down for some reason and my mother and the Pathan got off. Handing you over to me, my mother set off at a quick pace. I could not stop crying for joy. I vowed that under no circumstances would I ever be separated or disobey my mother again. Soon our little group were reunited with our possessions.

  “This Pathan, who used to patrol our street in Taunggyi, was often given tea and food when he passed at night; he was also at our wedding. The tall proud Pathans came from Afghanistan in the north of India. Pathans were the most feared night watchmen in Burma. They always carried a thick heavy metalled bound stick and a dagger under their robes. The Pathan refused all our efforts to reward him and quickly set off for his home and family nearby. He had no intention of remaining in Burma. He wished to make the journey to India with his family on foot before the coming monsoon. That night we slept in an old railway carriage at the side of the track. It had no door.”

  The noble Pathan had a good chance of guiding his family through the Hakawng Valley ahead of the retreating Chinese and the advancing monsoon. The steep tracks would be dry, the leach and tick population would still be aestivating. The gravid female malaria mosquitoes would be patiently waiting, sheltering under leaves from the sun, waiting to drop their eggs in the first puddles of the approaching mango showers. I hope this good man made it back to his far off village somewhere in the barren, dry hills of Afghanistan.

  “That was the first of many nights spent in the Burmese jungle without a door for protection. The following morning our small family group walked along the railway line to the next station. There was a train at the platform. This was the same train to Myitkyina Airport that my mother and the Pathan watchman had got off the day before; it had been bombed and machine gunned by enemy planes. The dead were quickly being buried next to the railway lines. It had taken the crew all that time to get the train moving again. There was no news of Cyril, Victor or Lucy at the station. My mother prayed that somehow they had managed to reach the airport and had been flown to India. The guard and his wife were no longer in the last carriage; it was now filled with strangers.

  “The following day the train reached the station on the outskirts of Myitkyina Airport without incident. We carried you in a sling and were soon walking along a road when night began to fall, but I was not afraid. There were so many other people walking with us, talking about reaching India and safety. Everyone was happy to be escaping the war and leaving Burma. It was dark when we arrived at the airport; the planes had stopped flying until the next day. To our disappointment the Airport was crowded.

  “We lit a small fire, made tea and people shared their food. We slept on the grass with the rest of the refugees. I felt safe for once. We would be in the queue for the flight to India tomorrow. That night the edge of the airfield twinkled with small fires as people cooked their evening meals. The following day we were pleased to see that everything was being conducted in an orderly manner. There were both British Army and Air Force personnel present, moving among the crowds of refugees keeping order. They told everyone not to panic as there were plenty of planes scheduled to arrive. Soon we would all be safe in India; the Japanese were still a long way away.

  “Those not in the queues waited patiently to join them at the edge of the airfield; today or tomorrow we would all be on a plane to India and freedom. Some of the children played together while they waited, but we kept you in-between us in case you got lost.

  “The transport planes began arriving at regular intervals and the people in the front of the queues climbed aboard. My God, so many people got on. l watched the planes slowly take off and head towards India and safety. I was scared; I had never been in a plane before.

  “I could see my mother was worried about leaving her other children and members of her family behind in Burma. I was determined not to let her suddenly change her mind once I was on the plane. I told my mother: If you suddenly change your mind and don’t get on the plane, I won’t go to India on my own.

  “We met some families we knew that had escaped from Rangoon. They told us Rangoon was a madhouse. The Gloucester Regiment were patrolling the city in jeeps and were forced to shoot looters and arsonists. Every shop window had been smashed; even the military were seen taking what they needed from the shops. Armed dacoits were operating in the suburbs. Brand new American vehicles were being burnt at the docks by British soldiers. Everyone seemed to be panicking, there was no organisation and hundreds of people including soldiers were escaping along the main road.

  “All the dangerous animals in Rangoon zoo had escaped when it was bombed. The same happened with the lunatic asylum and Rangoon jail. Mad people and criminals were looting the shops and roaming the streets laughing and shouting and setting fire to everything. It was total bedlam. Fortunately the Japs had not entered the city as yet. The refugees also said that Mandalay was being heavily bombed. Thank God our family were no longer living there.

  “I prayed my eldest sister Grace’s house in Rangoon had not been bombed or looted. The refugees told us the trains were still running but the station gates had been shut as most of the carriages had been reserved for the Civil Service and the Colonial department. Desperate civilians were climbing on the roofs of the carriages and were being beaten off by Indian police with long canes.

  “The following morning the transport planes began arriving again; by midday we were standing in the middle of the queue in the full heat of the sun but there were hold ups as the organizers were giving priority to large groups of new Indian arrivals. We heard later that these people were paying for their passage. The planes loaded up quickly and then took off.

  “Due to the loud noise of the planes on the runway, we did not hear the approaching enemy bombers. We all fell to the ground terrified. It was our worst bombing experience up until now. You and all the other children were screaming with fear, even grown ups were crying in despair as they lost members of their family. When the enemy planes left we stood up to find mutilated bodies all around us and hot shards of shrapnel burning the grass. I can still hear the cries for help. Queues reformed again and a few planes began to arrive but now there was no order; it became a free for all. My mother and I prayed for a miracle. Some men fought their way onto the planes that had recently landed; once there, they found their wives and children were missing and strangers were behind them. Many families were separated from their loved ones. They would never see each other again. Some of the arriving planes circled and left without landing. I began to cry. We would not be going to India. Mother decided to leave the airport.

  “Walking away from the airfield, many of the greatly disappointed people decided to make the trek to India on foot via the Hakawng Valley. It was rumoured by the refugees from Rangoon that a mass exodus to India on foot was expected by the British Administration in India; food and shelter had been organized along the way for the refugees. This may have been true initially, but we found out later all assistance had ended after a few weeks. People who still believed help was available left with few of the necessities of life and perished. Thank God for my mother’s good judgement. She refused to go.

  “Many other refugees were convinced that if they stayed together in one large group, the strong helping the weak, it would be possible to reach India. People said it would only take two to three weeks to cover a distance of a hundred miles. But there was one immense problem: the pending monsoon. Not many people had taken this important fact into account. After the war we heard that hundreds of families had disappeared along the trail to India. Some of these poor people were friends of our family.

  “Without a doubt my mother’s total refusal to be persuaded by me to join the vast throng of fleeing refugees, saved our lives. The Hakawng Valley became known as the Valley of Death.”

  The Trek to India: The Empire’s 1812

  This retreat was the Briti
sh Empire’s 1812. Instead of marauding Cossacks there were the voracious retreating Chinese soldiers; instead of snow there was rain; instead of biting frosts there were biting malarial mosquitoes and typhus-carrying ticks. Instead of slippery ice-bound dirt roads there were slippery muddy paths and steep hills; instead of black crows overhead, there were circling vultures.

  Both retreats left their trail of human detritus for many years afterwards. It was not difficult to retrace the route taken by the refugees, their jungle vine entwined skeletons marked the way. These late trekkers had been coaxed by the administrators to linger till the eleventh hour. British soldiers escaping to India had to harden their hearts at the sights of misery along the way. Whole families sat helplessly under the dripping leaves, their sunken eyes blazing with typhus fever. Healthy and strong members of a family waited for the weak, until they themselves succumbed.

  A fortunate few, anticipating the danger, left early. These people did not believe the picture of false hope placed on a crumbling wall of a dying empire. At the beginning there was some organization. These lucky ones had a pleasant journey to safety. They were taken over the rivers by boat, sometimes even riding on elephants.

  The brave soldiers who fought as a rearguard were coldly received in India by the pen-pushers and armchair warriors. These officers found this a convenient opportunity to look down with contempt on these fighting men from Burma. Their reason it is said: “they no longer looked like soldiers.”

  It was first claimed that the Japanese (who walked into Burma) would soon run out of supplies. The Japanese were in fact short of everything. Perhaps the British Generals in charge of the fighting had a secret weapon to delay the enemy; they left behind vast amounts of supplies. The enemy however were not always happy with their booty of tinned dairy products. Like the Chinese, the Japanese did not eat such food, as it upset their rice-loving stomachs. Milk they considered was only fit for calves. However, we also left behind cases of Andrews liver salts, which the Japs used to clean their teeth and add to soft drinks for the fizz. There were also mountains of bully beef, rice, white flour, sugar and even vitamins; everything to balance the diet of the protein-starved warrior of Nippon. We even left them millions of French letters which they put to good use, not for the purpose intended but in a practice recommended in the Japanese soldier’s handbook (masturbation). It was claimed to be cheaper, healthier, and, I suppose, one met a better class of female. This did not go down well with the sexually modest Burmese villagers when performed indiscreetly. These rubbers were also used to make wonderful fighting kites, to protect the ears of their pack animals from biting flies and, as we witnessed in Tada u, as bath caps to protect head wounds when bathing at the well.

  So reliant were the Japs on “Churchill’s rations” that it proved their downfall in the battle for Imphal and Kohima. So, I suppose you could justifiably say this clever strategy finally worked in the end.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Lotus Eaters

  HONG KONG

  The life of officers in Hong Kong pre-war was wonderful, according to one of my hotel guests who was a young officer there at the time. It would be fair to say that many of these young officers were observers and not participants in every pursuit mentioned. There were twenty-two-course Chinese dinners to be had on the floating restaurants in the harbour; that is presumably if an officer could eat while ignoring what his men were doing in the milling and bobbing sampans a few feet below his table.

  Banquets and Galas at the famous Grippes were commonplace. Dinner jackets were mandatory. Cocktail parties, dinners at the various clubs and a great deal of promiscuity had to be attended to at that high and privileged level. Life in Hong Kong for the higher-ups was one continuous great dressing-and-undressing rehearsal.

  First the young officers were gently roused by their personal servant (batman and wardrobe manager) with a cup of tea. After a bath, they were dressed for parade. Returning from parade, they undressed, bathed and dressed again for a game of golf. Following their game of golf they returned, undressed, bathed, then dressed to visit their mistresses; or better still someone else’s mistress or wife, whom they quickly undressed (without help from said batman). Even the CO’s wife was not immune if attractive: they seldom were. All females were fair game for these young bloods and dashing blades. In the evening they would dress for the club or even dress up for a fancy dress party to finish the day. This wonderful merry-go-round of dressing and undressing continued to the very end.

  Three days before the Japanese attack, General Maltby received a report from a trusted spy on the mainland which stated that the enemy had landed a large number of troops just twenty miles from Hong Kong. Maltby did not believe it.

  On the evening of the 7th December, Lieutenant General Takashi Sakai gave the order for his troops to move closer to the British defences on the Gin Drinkers’ Line and take up camouflaged positions in preparation for the coming attack. However, Lieutenant General Sakai and his staff were worried. Why was the Gin Drinkers’ Line, so lightly defended? Only the 2nd Battalion Royal Scots (below strength) were thinly stretched along this vital position. Was this a trap to lure the Japanese in? He intended to find out and sent out several small reconnaissance units.

  Two hundred paces in front of the Royal Scots D Company, a small camouflaged enemy reconnaissance party was in position. The Japanese reconnaissance party squatted in that position westerners find so uncomfortable to maintain. Their orders were to ascertain if the defenders were being secretly reinforced.

  The reconnaissance party was led by the young Japanese 2nd Lieutenant Nakamura; his first important assignment. If he could impress his superiors at headquarters perhaps they would stop slapping his face. They might even allow him to command a platoon in the initial attack. If so he could blood his treasured family sword in battle. He raised his father’s Zeiss binoculars to study his opponents. He could hear snatches of their strange language and accents. They all looked big strong men just like the Japanese Imperial Guards Division. His throat suddenly felt dry at the thought of perhaps meeting these big men in hand to hand combat.

  On Hong Kong Island, life continued as normal; plans for Christmas were in full progress, the restaurants, dance halls and bars were packed as usual. No one noticed that the Japanese shop owners had quietly boarded up their businesses and were leaving Hong Kong under the cover of darkness.

  “Jack had been called back from Taunggyi to Hong Kong urgently after only two weeks of his three weeks leave. The island had been placed on a war footing while he was away. But Jack was sure that if the Japs attacked they would be repulsed. He felt the garrison troops and the arriving reinforcements would be enough to defend the island. He also said that his battalion was being moved from Hong Kong to the New Territories. He said the defensive positions had been improved (this was not the case) and that The Gin Drinkers’ Line would be supported by artillery firing from Hong Kong.”

  This was true but soon the Scots would wonder who their artillery was actually supporting. Nothing had changed at the Gin Drinkers’ Line. In fact some of the trenches had collapsed, others were barely waist deep and in many places the trenches were not continuous. Most of the barbed wire had rusted or been stolen by the Chinese. The thousands of anti-personnel mines that were needed to be dug-in on the approaches had not materialized. It was soon apparent that there were no anti-personnel mines available in Hong Kong. Deep ravines also broke the defence line; here the enemy could slip through without being observed. It was generally presumed by the commanders that the Japanese would use the roads when attacking.

  A report was sent to Colonel White CO of the Royal Scots, pointing out the inadequacies of the Gin Drinkers’ Line. He was then informed by Brigadier Wallis that defences would be improved by his Rajputs who were resident on the mainland and occupying the Shingmun Redoubt. The improvements did not happen.

  “In his letters, Jack told me not to worry, Hong Kong was well defended. He was confident the British Army cou
ld hold the island. But mostly our letters were concerned with our future plans of settling down in the Shan States.

  “Jack said the availability of cheap alcohol resulted in a great deal of trouble among the soldiers with fighting and insubordination. Discipline among the men was not at its best, many were in prison or awaiting court marshal [including officers]. He said that many of the soldiers believed that large amounts of alcohol in the bloodstream killed the malaria parasite. Many Royal Scots were succumbing to malaria [Dad neglected to mention venereal disease]. As there were inadequate military police to deal with all the trouble, Jack and the other NCOs were kept busy at the weekends. In breaking up these fights, the NCOs and the Military Police became involved themselves and received their share of injuries.

  “Jack was confident that the British Army was better equipped and trained compared to the Japanese. He and Lt Ford once observed some Jap soldiers at a river crossing on the Mainland. They seemed undisciplined and unorganized. He was confident they would not dare attack Hong Kong, until they had defeated the Chinese Army. The new Canadian reinforcements and the Scots got on well together as many of the Canadians were of Scottish decent. New officers had also arrived and he found out he was soon to be promoted to Regimental Sergeant Major.”

  Some officers and NCOs wanted to take their men out on training exercises and night manoeuvres, in preparation for a Japanese attack. They were overruled. Those in charge did not want to aggravate the Japanese by preparing for war. It was generally believed that the Royal Navy, as a last resort, could always rescue them. The belief that Britannia ruled the waves was still widely held. It is strange that the mighty super battleship Yamato and her sister ship the Musashi, the two biggest and most powerful warships ever built, had gone unnoticed by British Intelligence, hidden behind sprigs of delicately arranged cherry blossom. Apart from walks of inspection, very little else was done to prepare the island’s defences. Maltby’s initial eagerness gradually waned. Perhaps his hands were tied by those above.