Spitfire Singh

by Mike Edwards

  The following day, the global news should have reminded Harjinder and Jumbo of the need for India’s defence, because it was Australia’s turn to feel the force of the Japanese. The city of Darwin had been bombed, but Harjinder was still thinking of a future based in China, which sent him briefly into a reflective mood. His unit was being forced on to the back foot, by an enemy that seemed to succeed at every turn but he wrote in his diary; ‘We have a set of very brave aircrew. The pilots are always clamouring to go on extra bombing sorties. This morning I overheard Pilot Officer Moolgavkar grumbling to Majumdar ( Jumbo) that he has not been on the same number of sorties as others. Of course, he knows this to be quite untrue: he has had more than his share. So he winks at me while bluffing it out with the Squadron Commander. He is mad keen. A cool customer, this one; he is determined to top the list in operational sorties. This spirit of aggressiveness is evident in many others among the young pilots. Pilot Officer Henry led an RAF flight on a bombing raid on Moulmein, a great feather in his cap. Henry is not worried any more. If you dread what you do, the fear of death is strong. Henry has passed through that stage and, like other aircrew members, is now fearless. I think that this all goes back to Majumdar’s daring raid on the first day we entered Burma. That set the pace for No. 1 Squadron in the Burma Ops. The air gunners are so keen that they are becoming a nuisance, almost. Each one is trying to cheat or out-manoeuvre the other when a call suddenly comes for an air gunner. The Parsee gang are the biggest crooks of all in this respect. Whenever I hear a loud altercation in Gujarati, I rush out of my office knowing what it’s all about. I have to calm down Cabby (our famous train driver), who is holding Rustomjee by the neck because this is the second or third successive sortie that the latter has wangled himself on. Ghyara is grumbling, because he is being bypassed by Sud. Sometimes they agree to toss for it, the lucky one shouting and cavorting like a crazy schoolboy. This is the daily routine: it is all very un-business-like, but it is wonderful, and the morale-raising scene that I see every day.’

  It wasn’t just the IAF that was keen to have a go at the Japanese. One of the American Volunteer Group pilots was enjoying his brief moment of bliss, wallowing in a small tin bath as the air raid sirens started their wailing. He jumped into his newly arrived Airacobra fighter to attack the enemy. Speed is of essence in air combat, gain height on your enemy; don’t be caught low and slow. He minimised the time to get airborne, and close for the attack, by cutting out time normally taken for getting dressed! Not only did he leave terra firma in his birthday suit, he shot down one of the raiders and so did a victory roll over the airfield. When he landed the IAF boys carried him to the hangar on their shoulders (careful where you put those hands, lads!) and presented him with a bath towel.

  Just two days after Jumbo explained his plan to Harjinder, he called him back into his room showing the retreat signal from Headquarters.

  It read:

  ‘All flying units in the area are to prepare for withdrawal. For detailed instructions, Squadron Commanders are to report to Headquarters for personal briefing.’

  Jumbo told Harjinder to put the Chinese plan into action. He was already referring to them as ‘the Indian Volunteer Group’. He announced that he would refuse (now that word alone could be seen as mutiny, or extreme bravery in the face of the enemy, a fine line) to withdraw Westwards. He told Harjinder not to move from Lashio until he received a personal telephone call from him. If he used the word ‘Peechey’ Harjinder would stay put, but if he said ‘Aagey’, it would mean pack up to move Eastwards immediately. In both cases, he meant to eventually end the retreat in China.

  Harjinder was going with the plan, but doubts were gnawing away. He asked him the obvious question: ‘Sir, supposing the Air Officer Commanding orders you to move back to India?’

  Jumbo replied: ‘I will out-argue him. The RAF has shown no guts for a fight, and I will refuse to follow its example. It is we who have done all the fighting here in the last few weeks. Today, if we had ten squadrons of Indian Air Force, with modern aircraft, we could have held back the Japanese and saved our soldiers from the butchery at the Sittang River, where hundreds have been drowned during the retreat. The British are still dreaming of the John Company days (the early days in India when the East Indian Company policed the entire country) when, as at the Battle of Plassey, 4,000 British troops fought 40,000 Indian troops under Siraj-ud-Daula. They felt secure in the East if they had just a few white troops and some Western equipment. The Japanese have now showed them what’s what, and they are demoralised. However, I don’t share in their defeatism. I am not going to let the Japs force us to retire. We will go where we can get an opportunity of fighting.’

  All of what Jumbo was suggesting could be seen as fighting the enemy at all costs but, equally, and more likely, it would be seen as disobedience, disorder, or even outright mutiny. The majority of the British, be they Navy, Army or Air Force, were also delivering a supreme effort, but with insufficient numbers and obsolete equipment.

  The next day, Pilot Officer Malse and twelve Airmen, were informed of their early return to India. Harjinder reflected that out of the 225 Airmen under him, he could have carried out the same duties with even half that number, a testament to their efficient and tireless attitude. ‘They are a set of boys to be proud of, all from good families. They love the Air Force and they are very proud of No. 1 Squadron. What makes them volunteer to do extraordinary tasks over and above their normal duties? I feel it is their love for the Squadron Commander and faith in him (there can be little doubt it was their complete faith in Harjinder, too). Thus do people show their real worth under operational circumstances.’

  The call from Jumbo was ‘Peechey’; to hold position for the moment but Pilot Officer Malse and others were still detailed to go back. In what was to typify the attitude of the IAF, they all created merry hell about being sent away from the combat zone! They wanted to stay, but they were told they must obey orders (unlike what their Squadron Commander was planning to do) because the future of No. 1 Squadron IAF, might be resting upon their shoulders.

  Jumbo had just returned from his visit to Headquarters, with glowing news from the RAF about them. They not only acknowledged the fighting qualities and flying skill of his pilots unreservedly, but that of the ground crew, as well. They considered them a bunch of wizards who had maintained a 100 per cent serviceability record. Everyone at HQ asked him how he kept the Lysanders flying with wooden tail-wheels. They also wanted to know what modifications they had carried out in order to be able to carry heavy bombs on the Lysanders and how the pilots carried out their bombing missions in such slow aircraft, and without fighter escort. Jumbo finished his report, the grin dropping from his face as he added; ‘We are famous, but we have not finished yet. Please talk to the men and tell them that we have completed the first part of our mission. Now we want to cash in on it. Expansion of the IAF is the second part.’

  The glowing praise made Harjinder a very happy man but, for both men, fighting the Japanese was all about building an Indian Air Force, and that was a stepping stone to an Independent India.

  As the rumours spread about the British plans to abandon Rangoon, the men naturally became jumpy about how they would get out of Burma. They knew that space aboard ships was at a premium, especially for Indians, so Harjinder thought it time to tell them all about the Chinese plan. In the afternoon, he spoke to the senior Airmen, and far from the reservations he had expected, he was told; ‘If we have to walk all the way into China we shall do so with the greatest of pleasure. This is our only chance (to help expand the IAF).’

  The 12-man party, under Pilot Officer Malse, was sent on their way, with the intention that they would be flown back to India immediately.

  The talk was how to get all the men they started with, safely back to India. Harjinder’s thoroughness had kept several of his crews alive through the conflict but there was nothing he could do save Pilot Officer Deuskar and his gunner Sergeant Kameshwara Dhora. They we
re only about 40 miles from Lashio when they died. Deuskar committed the well-known sin of staying too long over his target, strafing and bombing the Japanese aerodrome. They miraculously survived the numerous passes over the target, but on the way back, Dhora detected Japanese movements on the ground. Deuskar couldn’t let this go, so they circled over the target, kept watch, making notes on the composition of the enemy. It seems they ran out of fuel, probably with a leak from their tanks as a result of the earlier attacks. The assumption was that the pilot had apparently tried to crash land through the forest canopy, although most believed that it would have been wiser for them to hit the silk. When talking 70 years later with Arjan Singh, in his front room, I asked him about that very dilemma; to force-land or jump. He thought a little and, with a twinkle in his eye, said neither! After another pause, he did go on to say that there was no hope on earth of making a successful forced landing in that part of Burma, so a parachute it would have to be, to have even a minor chance to survive, and a minor chance to be found. Deuskar’s aircraft was close enough to home base to be seen going down, so the wreck, and the two youngsters that perished in it, was eventually found. An officer and Harjinder, accompanied by 40 men, attended to the funeral performed according to Hindu rites. They managed to get a band from the nearest Burmese Army Unit to give these men a suitable send-off in difficult conditions. Jitaindra Kumar Deuskar and Kameshwara Dhora were the first of the Indian Air Force to be killed in action in Burma.

  There was no time to grieve, and the next day, the 24th February, Lysanders departed on, what was already thought of as, the ‘usual’ mission. Harjinder gathered all the men and gave a speech about the plan to go to China. He explained Jumbo’s reasoning and added; ‘Look at the way they gave up in Singapore. So we can expect nothing from them. They will neither fight for India nor let us fight.’

  He asked to see, by a show of hands from the men, how many Airmen of them felt the same way as their Squadron Commander. Inwardly Harjinder’s heart soared as all hands rose heavenwards as one. There was no time for pleasantries or backslapping. He outlined a plan which included expanding the long route marches, carrying their own self-sufficiency kit. Each airman was to be independent in rations and clothing during a march that would be several days in very difficult terrain.

  That evening, when the pilots returned from their sorties, Harjinder conveyed the news of the unswaying support of the men for the China Plan. Jumbo was all smiles; ‘I knew it, I knew it. The Airmen are with me in this scheme as much as the officers are. We make a good team in this Squadron.’

  In Magwe, the 25th February 1942 was to be an interesting day. This was the gateway into, and now more often, out of Burma. James Lansdale Hodson, a war correspondent, flew into the chaos of aircraft arriving, aircraft refuelling, troops milling around, troops waiting for orders, and refugees trying to grab a seat out. As he made his way to a bungalow for that evening, he passed a group of Indian Air Force personnel in the melee. It was Pilot Officer Malse’s party, who had only succeeded in getting as far as Magwe before grinding to a halt. They ought to have flown out two day previously, but were held back because British Airmen were being evacuated first. Aircraft after aircraft took off for India, but the IAF personnel were brushed aside and told to wait. They were at their wit’s end. Was this their fate to sit passively, until the Japanese arrived? Up stepped Corporal Tara Singh. He was a man known to be of initiative and guts; the same man who drove the 13th Lysander, with a blind eye, to the train station in India in what seemed like a lifetime ago. He took matters into his own hands when he saw a car driving up with a flag fluttering from the small flagpole jutting up from the bonnet. Protocol is to stand to attention and salute the flag as it passes by, not jump out in the middle of the road and gesticulate wildly for it to stop! It was the car of the Air Officer Commanding, Burma, and stop he did rather than run this, clearly unhinged, man over. After throwing him his best salute, Tara Singh began a haranguing in his well-known Punjabi English: ‘Sir, I famous No. 1 Squadron Indian Air Force, brave, very brave. Our pilots more brave, our Airmen more brave. We bomb Japanese, fight Japanese. We not afraid. Your British men running from Burma. British no brave. I, my officer, don’t go India but you order me go. Now you send British, all British first, not send Indians. We wait many days. No Justice. Please excuse.’

  Another perfect salute was presented to the boss of bosses before Tara Singh stepped out of the way!

  The Air Officer Commanding, Air Vice-Marshal Stevenson, at first taken aback, realised that a grievance of some dimensions was being aired and, full marks to him, he decided to have it investigated. He sent his Staff Officer to speak to Tara Singh who had the bit between his teeth and was not going to hold back on this officer either. He made more wild gestures and apparently hurled more abuses on the RAF, and praise on No. 1 Squadron IAF! However, finally, he was able to make his grievance understood with the aid of a few translators! The news was relayed to the Air Vice-Marshal, no doubt with the language cleaned up a little, and some punctuations added. He drove up at once to halt the aircraft which was even then taxying for takeoff with a full load of RAF personnel. He told the pilot to hold his position, ordered 14, presumably very annoyed, British Airmen to be taken off, and made sure that Pilot Officer Malse and his party were airborne and on their way to India before he left the scene. The first members of No. 1 Squadron were heading home.

  The next day, James Lansdale Hodson travelled the road from the overnight bungalow back to the airfield and flew into the war-ravaged Rangoon. He drove past the lines of refugees shuffling North, carrying what few belongings they could. Unnoticed, he passed a mother and three sons heading through Magwe, crossing the river by boat with their sights on the nearby village of Minbu. The youngest was young Ramesh Sakharam Benegal, 16 years old. The paths of James and Ramesh would cross again in a few days’ time, but this time with Harjinder present, too.

  James negotiated a flight into Rangoon and waited with anticipation for the pilot, having been told they were the splitting image of each other. James had often been mistaken for this man, so he stared in horror when the cadaverous, terribly thin, knobbly-nosed, grey-wavy-haired image arrived! The pilot told him that the situation in Rangoon was desperate, and after a half-hearted attempt to dissuade him from going, he just shrugged his shoulders. All eyes were put to work searching the sky for enemy fighters, but their attention soon became fixed on the city as they approached the column of black and yellow smoke spiralling 1,000 feet up into the air. The airfield at Mingalodon was devoid of serviceable aircraft, those that could fly were up on missions, so it was the 9 or 10 burnt-out, shot-up machines, all horridly gnarled that greeted James. After he was driven into the city he wrote in his diary describing the unfolding chaos;

  ‘No hotel, bank, restaurant, or shop of any description is open. A good many are broken; a good many burnt out. Not much damage caused by enemy bombs; most of it is due to looters. The only people left in Rangoon are clusters of Indian servants, deserted by their masters. A company of them are encamped, sitting about, making small fires in the square, or setting out in driblets to walk towards India.’

  For the majority of the IAF remaining in Lashio, it was several more days of flying mission after mission, with news of Japanese gains all around. They received a signal on the 26th which read: ‘The last ship leaving shortly after which only animal transport will be available.’

  So their masters expect them to go back to India riding on mules! However, Jumbo and Harjinder were still focussed on China, they had no intention of going back to India.

  Whether it was nationalist verve, personal pride, or just the sheer fatalism of combat fatigue, the pilots had become more and more daring as the number, and ferocity, of the Japanese attacks mounted. The IAF were still trying to operate from Toungoo, the strip where they had started their operations. The constant bombing had reduced the military presence down to one aircraft. It was a single IAF Lysander with Flight Lieutenant Raza flying
, Sergeant Dildar as his air gunner, and ‘Cabby’ Cabinetmaker (Harjinder’s fellow train driver) keeping them in the air. Contact with them had been lost for several days, but when a call did finally get through, Jumbo ordered them out to regroup with him and Harjinder in Lashio. After two weeks alone, fighting a private war with no contact, what was their only complaint? It was that subject of underwear and clean uniform. According to Raza it was hard to come by! When he dropped his scarred Lysander on to the strip in Lashio to join Harjinder, the story of their private war took some telling. Their airfield was bombed, machine-gunned and photographed daily but they had set up dummy aircraft and dummy tents around the shattered strip. The dummies took all the hits day after day, as they moved them around to keep the Japanese guessing. They carried out daily flights into Siam (Thailand) reporting troop movements, and attacking the airfields of Messaring and Maehongson for good measure on the return flight. Their own field suffered a fierce raid on the 27th. They pulled their Lysander in nose-first under a little tree cover at the edge of the airfield, so Dildar could jump into his tail gunner’s seat, open fire at, and hit one of the 15 attacking aircraft. It was two days later that they were ordered out, but in the IAF tradition, that was being written in combat, they didn’t take the direct route. Instead, as a farewell, they flew via Maehongson again, this time catching the Japanese in the open. Raza dropped his bombs right on top of the wireless station and Dildar saw it crumble, achieving what multiple RAF aircraft raids had failed to do, on two earlier occasions. However, there was no room for Cabby for the trip to Lashio, he would have to make his own way. How did he do that? Well, according to one account, he used his newly acquired skills and commandeered a train! He enlisted a volunteer to stoke the fire, and made his was to Lashio to join his comrades. Cabby, himself, remained tight lipped.