That night the Worcestershires stayed in Zubza village, while the Cameron Highlanders established a position at milestone 32, four miles back. Overlooking the latter was a village called Khabvuma, and Hawkins suggested to Grover that the Camerons should be told to occupy it. Grover thought that it wasn’t necessary, that he should take a risk, but the situation kept worrying Hawkins, and eventually he ordered the Camerons to send out a patrol. That night, the duty officer recorded:
‘The Brigadier is lying by my side, trying to sleep, but he is worried and the slightest noise wakes him. An aeroplane flies overhead. He sits up suddenly and says: “Make a note of that.” Soon after midnight a message comes to say that the Camerons have got their patrol up on the hill unopposed. He sighs with relief, turns over, and sleeps.’
Hawkins’ fears were only too well founded. When the Dorsets came up to relieve the Camerons next morning, the Japs were just moving forward to occupy the village.
Hawkins was a tall, lean man, with an eager, somewhat tense manner. He’d fought long and hard in France, and had thought hard, too, about the fundamentals of his profession. Though no one could ever accuse him of being unaggressive in the face of the enemy (or indeed any opponent) he detested the waste of a single life. ‘You can build a gun in two days, or a tank in a week,’ he once said, ‘but it takes twenty years to breed an infantry soldier.’ He was immensely keen on physical fitness, believing that without it his men could neither beat the enemy nor survive an arduous campaign. Every week the whole brigade would be taken out for a three-mile run, Hawkins in the lead for the first two miles, after which he would give the ‘advance’ signal and three thousand men would go tearing over the brown, sun-baked hills. Sometimes, if he felt in need of further exercise, he’d look round the mess after tea, and say: ‘I think I’ll go for a run. What about it?’ There would then be a horrified silence, till his eye lit on the officer of his choice, and he added: ‘Come on, Bill [or whoever it was]. Let’s get cracking.’ But, despite such peccadilloes and the occasional splenetic outburst, the whole brigade had a great affection for him. Certainly no commander since Lord Hill ever cared more for his men.
In the confusion of this first day of action, the brigade, or at least its staff, had made their first acquaintance with mules, 400 of them arriving with their Pathan muleteers under the command of Captain Horton, a brisk individual with waxed moustaches. He’d no great worries, he said, except that his animals needed 2,500 gallons of water a day.… Luckily, there was a small wooded area below the road with a trickle of water, and the company descended happily towards it.
Another arrival was a bulldozer section from the Royal Engineers, which began cutting away at the banks to make standing places for vehicles and tracks for the guns. This was the first time that the troops had seen such a machine and gazed at it in amazement. Before long units were on the phone to brigade asking if they could borrow it; the bulldozer had immediately established itself as an important weapon of war.
On the morning of the 12th, Grover spoke to Warren on the radio, to learn that the garrison had had a fairly quiet night, during which a company of the Royal West Kents had taken over the D.C.’s bungalow area. Like patients after a serious operation, the troops in general were described ‘to be quite comfortable and in very good heart’. But medical supplies were running short, and the situation of the wounded, who were increasing every day, was becoming critical. An air-drop of water, medical supplies, grenades and mortar ammunition was urgently called for. Warren was also running low on 3.7 ammunition himself, and this was particularly serious as, if the guns were reduced to impotence, even for a matter of hours, Kohima would fall. Grover promised to set matters in hand.
At mid-day General Stopford came forward to see Grover. He’d already expressed his opinion that Warren had been slow to get into Kohima and relieve the garrison, and naturally he wanted to know what was holding up 5th Brigade. However, he accepted the explanations given and concentrated on forward planning.
It might be mentioned here, that if Stopford thought Warren was slow, Warren thought Hawkins was slow; and this was the pattern that was to repeat itself at all levels, right through the battle. Until one was confronted with a particular problem oneself, it took a major act of the imagination to conceive the difficulties; and as the physical conditions rapidly deteriorated, any such mental effort was severely curtailed.
All day during the 12th April, 5th Brigade manœuvred itself into an attacking position. The Camerons came forward, then sent two companies to occupy Sachema, a village two miles to the south of Zubza, and about a mile from the road. From here they began patrolling forward towards the Jap position across the road, which was now known as ‘Bunker Hill’. With immense physical effort, the guns of 10th Field Regiment were manhandled on to a patch of fairly flat ground, on the southern face of Zubza, where they were lined up, almost wheel to wheel. Nettlefield, the gunner in the Jotsoma box, had no information as to code words or wave-lengths in the 2nd Division, so a set was put on the job of interception. Soon the headquarters of 10th Field was contacted, normal radio communications were established, and it wasn’t long after this that the regiment was able to join in the D.F. (Defensive Fire) tasks to help the garrison. At any hour of the day or night, the cry would ring out: ‘Troop target!’ and in a matter of seconds the twenty-four guns would be roaring away. Though 25-pounders aren’t so accurate as 3.7 howitzers, only on one occasion, when there was confused fighting inside the perimeter, did they have to be silenced.
On the 13th, the Camerons moved down from Sachema to occupy two features behind the Jap positions on Bunker Hill. Hearing this, Grover, who had gone forward to Hawkins’s headquarters at Zubza, urged him to get on with the attack. But the guns hadn’t yet registered, so it was agreed that zero should be at noon the following day. Again the Jap gunners on Merema Ridge seemed to sense John Grover’s presence and began ‘browning the perimeter’, so the two commanders took refuge in a slit trench and continued their discussions there. Some shells fell around them, but did no damage, and when Grover left the shelling stopped again. As it soon became apparent, the Japanese were somewhat regular in their habits, resembling the Germans in the First World War. An officer at Zubza on this day recorded:
‘The box is sited on the uphill side of the road, just before the country starts falling away to form an oval-shaped bowl, with the road winding along just below the rim, and the white bungalows of Kohima at the far end. Dotted along the front edge of the box were the infantry posts, reinforced on the flanks by M.M.G. The broken ground in the middle was occupied by the guns, spaced in lines by troops, every twelve yards or so. Down in a nala the mules were being led to water, rather too bunched for safety, I thought. From the cook house, men were bringing their dinner in mess tins and sitting down to eat on the boxes strewn around. Everything and everyone out in the open; and 500 yards away on a small hill like a lump of jelly left over in the bowl, you could see the Jap bunker. But everything was peaceful as both they and we had lunch. However, at 1330 hours, they finished theirs just ahead of us and began mortaring. I had to nip back and stop a convoy of twenty 3-t0nners who were corning along the road with gunner ammunition. Five minutes earlier and they’d have copped it.’
In Kohima itself things were not quite so peaceful, even at lunch-time, and this day came to be known by the garrison as ‘the black 13th’. Richards records: ‘There was continual shelling, and movement had become difficult as snipers gave us so much trouble. The trees by this time were bare and there was no cover. The air-drop was a great disappointment too…’ What happened was that the first flight, by the United States Army Air Force, mistook the dropping zone and delivered their loads on to the Treasury area, right outside the perimeter. Later, the R.A.F. came along and spotted the zone correctly—the signs had been laid out by the Royal West Kents in a dip between Garrison Hill and Kuki Piquet—but by some mistake dropped 3.7 howitzer ammunition intended for Jotsoma. However, some medical supplies came do
wn, which by now were needed desperately. Later it was discovered that the loads which fell on the Treasury included 3-inch mortar ammunition and, as the Japs had already captured some mortars, this came back again with devastating effect.
But, apart from the supply position, the tactical position was getting serious too. The enemy had infiltrated into the garrison’s positions in the F.S.D. area, which was being defended by a company of Laverty’s men, aided by some Rajputs, and a platoon of the Assam Rifles. In the morning they put in a counter-attack, and managed to restore the perimeter, but before they could clear the hill overlooking it a Jap heavy machine-gun opened up from G.P.T. Ridge, caught them in the open, and the assault withered away. The result was that the D.I.S. had to be abandoned; and the enemy could now snipe the whole Royal West Kents’ area. The business of living became harder than ever.
Another factor began to operate too: the troops knew that if they became wounded, however, seriously their chances of being treated properly and evacuated to a place of even relative safety were nil. This knowledge did not seem to impair their fighting spirit, but it increased the mental strain enormously.
Sensing that a crisis of morale was being approached, Richards realized he must do something positive to stiffen the troops’ resolution and give them hope. He therefore published a Special Order of the Day:
1. I wish to acknowledge with pride the magnificent effort which has been made by all officers, N.C.O.s and men and followers1 of this garrison in the successful defence of Kohima.
2. By your efforts you have prevented the Japanese from attaining this object. All his attempts to overrun the Garrison have been frustrated by your determination and devotion to duty. Your efforts have been in accordance with the highest traditions of British Arms.
3. It seems clear that the enemy has been forced to draw off to meet the threat of the incoming relief force and this in itself has provided us with a measure of relief. His action now is directed to contain us by harassing fire, while he seeks to occupy odd posts under cover of that fire.
4. The relief force is on its way and all that is necessary for the Garrison now is to stand firm, hold its fire and beat off any attempt to infiltrate among us.
5. By your acts you have shown what you can do. Stand firm, deny him every inch of the ground.
6. I deplore the sufferings of the wounded; every effort is being made to alleviate them at the first opportunity.
7. Put your trust in God and continue to hit the enemy hard wherever he may show himself. If you do that, his defeat is sure.
8. I congratulate you on your magnificent effort and am confident that it will be sustained.
Richards is a spare, conventional, and reserved Englishman, and this Order of the Day may well be the most emotional document he has penned in a whole lifetime. Even after many years, it is difficult to read the order without being moved; to observe how, even after long danger and privation, the basic character of the man still shone in his words, with their deep echoes of the Psalms. All mention of this document has been omitted from some accounts of the siege; and its general effect is hard to assess. But it is difficult not to believe that for any man with a love for the English language its impact would have been great.
It was also on this black day that the main pit of the A.D.S. was hit by a mortar bomb; two doctors were killed and a number of patients were wounded. According to Richards, the only good news to reach him was that Colonel Lander, the C.R.E., had been to inspect the trickle of water, first discovered by the Assam Rifles. Being close to the road, it could only be used at night by organized water parties, bringing over chagals, but until the R.A.F. succeeded in dropping water supplies it would save the situation.
The night of the 13th saw bitter fighting at both ends of the perimeter. The Royal West Kent companies holding the F.S.D. were attacked by wave after wave of Japanese. Fortunately the light was enough to see their figures advancing through the trees, and the Bren gunners waited till they were only fifteen yards away, then let go in long bursts. Great numbers of the attackers went down, but some got through to the trenches to start fighting hand-to-hand. One soldier is said to have shot three Japs, one after the other, as they dropped down into his trench; another was laid out and came round later to find a Japanese officer sharing his slit-trench. Unable to find his rifle in the darkness, he attacked the officer with his bare hands. Around the D.C.’s bungalow the attacks were held without great difficulty, though there was one nasty moment when a Bren gun jammed. Its gunner was bayoneted but his No. 2, Private Wilhams, fought things out with a shovel, killing one Jap and driving off the others. However, while this was going on, a party of Japs had poured through the hole and occupied a hut on a small knoll inside the perimeter. Fortunately, the platoon commander was on hand with a section of men, and after some hard fighting the insurgents were all killed. The attacks went on most of the night, but the Brens all behaved themselves and the line held. But the men were getting desperately tired and how long they could keep going it was impossible to say.
The Camerons were in action that night too. An officer and a sergeant had got right on top of Bunker Hill, having shot up the bunkers all the way, to find the whole position apparently deserted. News was radioed back to Victor Hawkins, who gave orders that a platoon, then a company should occupy the position. But he warned the Jocks to go carefully, as the Japs might be up to their tricks and laying on a carefully prepared ambush. He was right. The first platoon reached the top of the spur without trouble, but just as they were settling into their positions the whole feature came alive. Fire was directed at them from every side, even from the bunkers that had been blitzed on the way up. The platoon came down in a big hurry. But at least, as Hawkins put it, ‘we knew where we were. There was anything up to a company of Japs dug in on that position. So we’d give them everything we’d got, and make a job of it the next day.’
But the excitement wasn’t over for the night. A company of Japs from the 138th Regiment worked their way up a nala just before dawn with the object of occupying Zubza and to their amazement found it occupied already. They first bumped the sappers of the Field Company and shot through them towards the tanks, the crews of which were asleep in the open. Luckily the sapper sentries began loosing off their Stens and, as the Japs came towards them, the tank crews clambered inside their vehicles, closed hatches, and began firing with their 75 mms. at point-blank range. The Japs who managed to escape this barrage got into some bashas on the hills above the village where they began squealing and yelling at the tops of their voices. When daylight came Hawkins told the Worcestershires to organize ‘a grouse drive’, which they did most successfully. By the time it was over only six Japs remained alive out of the 100; and the company commander was shot trying to get away across the road.2
On the 14th when Richards went up to Laverty’s headquarters, he found him talking to Warren on the radio and describing the serious plight of the garrison. When he had finished Richards spoke personally and told Warren that unless relief came soon it would be too late. Warren replied: ‘I’m doing my best, but intend to make a proper job of it.’ Later that day he sent word that relief might be expected in two days’ time—on the 16th. By the time of this message 5th Brigade had broken through to him.
On the morning of the 14th Victor Hawkins sat on a hill overlooking the Jap position on Bunker Hill, and pushed ahead with his plans for the attack. The mortars were brought up into position and started registering, then the M.M.G.s of the Manchesters were dragged forward, and the tanks came up the road to their start-line. With growing impatience Hawkins watched the guns registering, each one separately because of the close range and the proximity of the Cameron companies carrying out the attack. The angle of fire was awkward too. Occasionally Hawkins would ring up Lieut.-Colonel Harry Grenfell, the gunners’ commander, to ask how much longer he was going to take; but Grenfell, like Hawkins himself, was not a man to be hurried or flustered, and the registering went on methodically. Not till
1200 hours did Grenfell give any clue as to when he’d be ready. Then he rang up and said simply: ‘You can fix zero for 1230.’
By now it was raining hard and Hawkins was on edge. The tanks had rubber tracks which were liable to start skidding on the road, and this meant that some of them might go over the bank before they’d even got into action. Also, the back of the hill worried him as, owing to the slope, his guns couldn’t touch it. There’d been no signs of earthworks on this slope, but the Jap could have concealed them, in which case the Jocks—who were attacking from the rear—would ‘catch a bloody nose’.
However, precisely on time the guns opened fire and went on for fifteen minutes, putting down 1,500 shells onto the Jap position. As they finished, the mortars began their barrage, and as they finished the tanks came into action. At least, they should have done. But, in fact, there was no sign of them. Hawkins was just worrying how on earth he would cover the advance of the Camerons when the tanks appeared, moved up to a position some 200 yards from the objective, and began firing over open sights. Then it was time for the Jocks to appear. At first Hawkins couldn’t see them, but then they came, moving forward slowly over the broken ground. One of the company commanders, David Graham, could be seen moving about controlling his men, as if on an exercise. There were no Japs on the near slope of the hill, but those towards the crest were alive by some miracle and still ready to fight. One of them flung a grenade at Graham and, as he threw himself down, a Jock lay on top of him till it became evident that the grenade was a dud. Then remarking ‘its okay, sir’, he got up and continued his advance. However, a few minutes later, Graham got hit in the shoulder and was put out of action. C.S.M. Cook, an ex-Army boxing champion, went into the fight with great spirit; coming across an officer with a sword, he wrested it from him, killed him, then used the sword on any other Japs that came his way.
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