Spitfire Singh

by Mike Edwards

  Cabby Cabinetmaker was all for going on anyway; his blood was up and he was clearly having the time of his life! Tempting as it was, Harjinder saw the sense of it and gave in, much to Cabby’s disappointment. The driver came two and a half hours later and Harjinder admitted; ‘nobody was more relieved than me. The poor refugees were equally relieved, I suppose, because they had had a good taste of our driving.’ How many passengers’ heads needed bandaging, I wonder?

  Harjinder went on to describe the final part of their journey; ‘We passed through some beautiful countryside, especially in the hill section. Mamyo was an enchanting town up in the highlands, the climate cool and invigorating. Then we descended into forests of teak, for which Burma is justly famous. I must admit that after the engine driving episode was over, we enjoyed every moment of our journey (perhaps taking notes on how it should be done?). Late in the evening we reached Lashio near the Burma-China border, all in one piece, and rejoined the Squadron’s airborne component. As usual, there was a warm welcome from Jumbo Majumdar.’

  On 8th February, Harjinder and the team, got a proper look at their surroundings at Lashio. It was the railhead of the Burma-China Road, a flourishing cosmopolitan township with the airstrip to the North of the town, but all the troops housed to the West. From this place, long convoys of trucks carried war supplies to Chiang Kai-shek’s China. The whole thrust of the IAF, the RAF, and the AVG in the area, was to keep this supply route open. If the Southern areas of China crumbled to the Japanese, all would be lost. Once this land route was cut, which now seemed most likely, the only supply route would be by air, over the Himalayas; over the hump as it was to be known! Every additional day with an open land route, gave China more time to prepare their resistance against the Japanese assault. The IAF’s role, on top of their new-found bombing skills, would be to carry out reconnaissance for the Chinese Army.

  All knew that it was only a matter of time before the bombers would attack this strategically important town. As they made their preparations this time, it was as seasoned campaigners. Bombing seemed to have lost its terror by now, after the previous week. They dispersed the aircraft and ground equipment at different points, again to make things harder for the enemy. Harjinder also divided the technical Airmen into three parts – in case of a direct hit on a group of men, they would only lose only 33 per cent of a particular trade.

  The next day, Jumbo sent for Harjinder in his room in the Officers Mess, a huge room at the end of a long barrack. He wanted Harjinder to shift his personal luggage there and move in with him. Harjinder was ‘surprised beyond words’. Jumbo’s explained, ‘After all, I need your advice on every action. It is difficult to contact you every time because your present quarters are four miles away.’ (Apparently his concern about flying together didn’t stretch to being in the same place during bombing raids.)

  Harjinder was still taken aback, he told him: ‘Sir, I am proud of the personal regard you have for me, but ranks mean a lot in the Service. I am a Warrant Officer and there are Flight Lieutenants in our camp down there. They will resent it. Also, imagine if an RAF officer sees me living in the Officers Mess and that too in the Squadron Commander’s room!’

  But Jumbo was not to be put off so easily. He said: ‘I have come here to fight a war and not observe formalities and ceremonies. Besides, you are a guide and adviser to all of us. You have won the admiration of my aircrew and they admire your qualities.’

  Harjinder thought and replied. ‘Sir, do you realise that in case of an air raid the men would need me more than the officers would? Besides, I have to brief and de-brief the air gunners every time they leave for, or return from, a sortie (Harjinder always made it a point to talk to the air gunners and the pilots before they left for an operational sortie, firstly to keep morale up and, secondly, to discuss mechanical details of each individual aircraft). My presence among the Airmen is a dire necessity. I’ll tell you what is really needed. If I am allotted a transport you can always expect me here within a few minutes of your call.’

  Harjinder’s argument worked! A car was found for his use and military protocol upheld.

  ‘In my heart of hearts, of course, I felt very elated that Majumdar had such high regard for me. I felt I should do much more to prove that I really deserve the esteem in which he held me. It is not the rank, but the man Jumbo had implied. Who could ask for greater recognition?’

  The Japanese cared not an iota for rank, reputation, or the individual. If the Indian Air Force had briefly given them a bloody nose after the unexpected offensive, it only spurred them on to snuff out the annoyance, like a tick on the skin. The Japanese had their own job to do and taking Rangoon, and thereafter Burma, was a priority. The attacks stepped up a gear; the pressure became untenable.

  Nine

  The Fighting Retreat

  ‘I have come to Lashio to personally congratulate No. 1 Squadron of the Indian Air Force. You have made history within this short time.’

  ‘Harjinder, you can make him see sense. If you don’t, none of us will ever return to India alive.’

  Combat can be a very lonely place. The IAF had always operated as a complete, close-knit team, but now they were scattered throughout Burma with communications difficult, at best, and at other times, non-existent. Harjinder’s team were the largest and remained in control, albeit loosely, over the other scattered Lysanders. The pilots Hrushikesh Moolgavkar and Homi Ratnagar, both Bombay boys, had become friends in the days of their training at Ambala. If these young men were intrigued to be sent to Johnny Walker and John Haig, the mystery behind these mouth-watering names soon evaporated when they discovered that these were the names of the satellite airfields on the outskirts of Rangoon. However, for Moolgavkar, it was better than whisky; it was the chance for more combat. Alone, or with his friends, he just wanted to be in the thick of it.

  Some of the individual Lysanders would take part in their original, lonely, role of loitering above the enemy’s heads to guide troops, or artillery fire, to the correct location, whilst offering up their aircraft as excellent target practice for the Japanese troops on the ground. The IAF were flying several times a day, and this would normally involve one mission where the Squadron would meet at a predetermined spot to form up for a full-strength bombing raid. After every raid, all the IAF pilots brought their gangly vultures back home. The grins on landing were now gone but there was still determination etched on their faces. As the sweaty bodies climbed down from their exposed, glassy, perches, the grins often returned to the Lashio crews as they gathered together having parked their Lysanders under trees at different parts of the airfield. The individual views of the raid came pouring out, of the bombs hitting targets and tracer rounds whirring around them. The aircraft were proof that the Japanese were no longer caught unawares, since every day, plenty of additional holes would appear in the aircraft structures, and Harjinder would be kept busy patching, repairing, and replacing parts and panels.

  Despite Harjinder’s overflowing schedule, he could not help but notice the goings on with one of the RAF Lysanders in the adjacent hangar. Every day, the Sergeant in-charge, ordered it pushed out and the engine run. He would ponder a while, stroking his chin, before having it pushed back into the hangar. They had discovered that the engine was not delivering full power, but when the IAF Flight Sergeant offered his help to find a solution, his assistance was curtly refused. Either the RAF considered it beneath their dignity to get help from the IAF, or they were in no rush to fix it. Harjinder wasn’t any better disposed towards the RAF officers who were stationed there to operate this aircraft. The RAF pilots in the Mess went out for a partridge shoot every day, which was sometimes hours away from base. In comparison, the IAF pilots and air gunners, in general, were clamouring to go on more and more missions; to avoid being the ones left behind. Some of the RAF, it seemed, hadn’t changed even when things were looking grim.

  However, in mid-February, Harjinder had to deal with one of his own men. Sergeant Loyal (an unfortunate
name in this case) refused to fly as an air gunner; he looked pale and jittery. It was clear to everyone that this poor man’s nerves were shot as he even refused to take a step towards any aircraft. Flight Lieutenant Niranjan ‘Joe’ Prasad showed his caring side, suggesting that Loyal be shot for cowardice! Jumbo thought this would, ‘give us a bad name throughout Burma’. He came up with another plan which seems harsh in the clarity of peace time, but it has to be remembered this was war, with no room for unproductive personnel and the risk of fear spreading. The news from lower Burma was very discouraging. The Japanese had taken most of the Southern Burma peninsular and Rangoon was under constant bombing. One of the IAF’s flights was based at Mingaladon, the main airfield for Rangoon, and clearly the main target for the Japanese aircraft. So what did Jumbo do? He sent Sergeant Loyal to Mingaladon and made him act as a bearer for the other Senior Sergeants, polishing their shoes and running errands. Under constant bombing raids, he soon came to the conclusion that it was safer in the air, and requested his transfer back to Jumbo’s Flight of Lysanders as a tail gunner; he was refused, and later reduced in rank to airman. Now, of course, the unfortunate airman would have been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and pulled out of the combat zone, but this was 1942.

  The 12th February was an important day for the Squadron. News of their successful bombing missions was now known at all levels. Prasad and Moyers, his British, temporary tail gunner, had shown how well the IAF and RAF could combine so some of the RAF Lysanders were assigned to operate with the IAF. The combined unit was to come under Jumbo’s command, officially, for the first time. Harjinder knew this was an incredible, almost unimaginable milestone, and so promised the pilots that no aircraft would let them down. He felt the time was right for this reassurance to boost their morale, especially because it was clear to all that the jungles of Burma would devour any pilot and aircraft that had the misfortune to force-land in those forests. Surviving the crash would be unlikely and it would be very difficult to find any trace of them once they disappeared through the foliage. These weren’t empty promises – instead of doing the required checks and spark plug changes every 25 flying hours, he brought it forward to every 10 hours, not an easy prospect with the limited resources they had.

  Jumbo took ‘A’ and ‘C’ Flights of the IAF into the air, with the Lysanders of the Royal Air Force joining in formation under his command. Together, they headed towards Chieng Mai and Chiang Rai in occupied Thailand, dropping down to ultra-low level; an environment that now felt like home to the IAF. The area they operated through stretched over the Chinese, Burmese, and Thai borders and despite combat being on the minds of everyone it was impossible not to admire the terrain. Jumbo led his combined force down into these gorges and valleys whenever possible, to get them out of sight of the Japanese fighters in the air above. The jungle gave no indication of the border as they entered Thailand, not that the eyes were looking earthwards – they were too busy scanning the sky for the enemy, or keeping the nearest Lysander in sight to follow Jumbo’s lead . A Flying Tigers pilot later wrote that the low and slow-flying Lysanders were almost impossible to spot from above, against the jungle background. This was a good thing, as the area above them seemed to contain every Japanese fighter in the region. The American Flying Tigers were only too happy to escort these mad Indians on their bombing mission, but there were so few of them in Burma that even a handful of Japanese aircraft would rip through the Americans, to cause carnage to the Lysanders beyond.

  As the treeline/foliage thinned, Jumbo knew that the target was approaching. He waggled his wings and the pilots dutifully nestled closer, ready for the attack. Jumbo took them up and away from the relative safety of low level, before giving the nod and peeling off to lead them down on to the target. As Jumbo’s aircraft lumbered into an area which the Japanese had thought was safe, he stirred up a hornets’ nest. They had only one pass, with bombs exploding and tail-gunners shooting at anything that was not burning, as the smoking airfield retreated, behind them. Jumbo then led his vultures back home over the jungle canopy, seeking twisting valleys to drop into. Harjinder’s work was evident as all the aircraft appeared back over the airfield with not a single engine missing a beat. However, his work was to begin immediately as most of the aircraft carried a few reminders of the troops guarding the airfields, or splinters from the explosions they had caused.

  The next day, unlucky 13th, Pilot Officer Henry was taxying out, loaded with bombs, when Harjinder noticed the number of his Lysander; R-2033. This seemed strange to Harjinder as he recalled this aircraft had been on a major inspection and he had not personally given it a thorough check on completion. Harjinder ran over to the taxiing Lysander, waving his arms as he went. All must have thought he had gone mad in the heat, but he succeeded in getting Henry’s attention, stopping him and getting him to go back to the dispersal area. Harjinder bounced off the steps on the wheel cover, lodged his foot in the steps built into the side of the fuselage, then stuck his head through the now open canopy window. Not knowing exactly why, he asked Henry to move the control column forward. As he did so Harjinder’s heart nearly jumped up to his mouth. The elevators on the tail that should move down had moved up; they were connected the wrong way! Once the tail had risen during takeoff, and he acquired flying speed, Henry would have pulled back the stick, expecting the nose to come up and for them to take to the sky – but they would have remained pinned firmly to the ground with even greater force. The airstrip at Lashio sat perched precariously at the edge of a ravine nearly 200 feet deep – had Henry been allowed to begin takeoff, he would have run off the cliff, gone on his back, and into the deep ravine below. Since he was loaded with bombs, Henry would have been blown to smithereens even if he had survived the crash. Very shaken, Harjinder asked him to climb out of the cockpit. Henry was obviously unaware of his narrow flirtation with death since he began to argue with Harjinder because the time of his sortie was 0630 and he was getting late! That was how focused the boys were on their job. Harjinder had to calm him down by saying that he would be responsible to the Squadron Commander for this particular delay and they bundled him into the cockpit of another aircraft. When Henry asked if there anything wrong with his R-2033, Harjinder casually said: ‘Oh, nothing, nothing, just an additional check.’ Henry didn’t know that by now he would have been in another world, wearing a pair of his own white wings and flying a pretty, fluffy, cloud.

  Harjinder sent for the Senior NCO who was responsible for the cross-check and placed him under close arrest. However, after turning the issue over and over in his mind, he decided not to pursue the matter further. The charge was too serious; he would have to be tried by court martial in the field, and he would be reduced to the ranks. The aircrew would not only come to know about this incident, but would also be demoralised in the bargain. So he decided not even to tell Jumbo as Squadron Commander, reasoning that he had enough worries of his own. He released the Flight Sergeant from close arrest but removed him from the Flight, and placed him on Ground Equipment.

  There was no time to dwell on this lapse in discipline. The next day, the 14th February, required Harjinder to step up a gear and apply another dose of his inventiveness. He received a message from one of his flights asking for a specialist tool; a propeller spanner. This particular Lysander was operating from a strip about 200 miles from Lashio. Harjinder had the one and only spanner in Burma so he decided to make a copy. Their interpreter knew about a Chinese shop and from his description it sounded like it might provide what was required. However, when they arrived late at night they found it, unsurprisingly, locked. They did search for the owner but with war swirling around them, nobody wanted to be conspicuous. There was no other option Harjinder went to work breaking the lock. Concerned that his team may be viewed as thieves, Harjinder wrote another of his official sounding notes and pinned it to the door.

  ‘In the name of the King Emperor, I have taken over the contents of this shop because they were most urgently required
for the efficient prosecution of the war. The owner is entitled to a fair compensation, if he presents this note, with the cost of the materials taken, certified by any Commissioned Officer of His Majesty, to any treasury in His Majesty’s Realm.’

  He was getting good at these made-up-on-the-spot notes. He didn’t know if there was a procedure, but felt he owed it to the owner. They took enough steel to make three spanners but now they needed a blacksmith. That search turned out to be straight forward, and this time, the owner was on hand, sleeping near his forge. The interpreter asked the man to light up the hearth, but the man said: ‘Nothing doing, I have been working the whole day and I am dead tired and need some sleep.’

  Harjinder tried his best to persuade him until Flight Sergeant Muhammad Siddique took over and tried threatening him with the police. Just when they were thinking of giving up, Harjinder thought of an idea. He drew up close to the man and told him, if he wouldn’t get up, Harjinder’s aeroplanes would not be able to fly and the Japanese would bomb Lashio like they were doing in Rangoon. This seemed to have an electric effect on him. He got up babbling: ‘Please do not let those devils come near Lashio. I shall work as hard as you want.’

  He fired up the furnace and forged the three spanners as per Harjinder’s orders, with the various slots and grooves which this specialist tool required. He was ably assisted by Mohammad Siddique and worked for the remainder of the night without a wink of sleep. By 7 am the next morning there was a Lysander, with ‘Sathi’ Satyanarayana at the controls, hopping along at low-level on spanner delivery duties.