My corps was now concentrated, not where I had hoped originally, or, for that matter, how I had hoped. Still, concentrated it was, and it now remained to decide how I should carry out my task of denying the oilfields to the enemy and defending Upper Burma. The first thing was to choose where we should stand and fight. A reasonable defensive line could have been found running from Allanmyo up into the higher ground to the west, but this would have left a gap of many miles between us and the Chinese. To avoid this, General Alexander had ordered me to hold Taungdwingyi in strength as the junction point where the Chinese front would meet mine. To hold both banks of the Irrawaddy at Allanmyo and a line to Taungdwingyi fifty miles to the north-north-east would mean stretching my two very weak divisions—now not equal in strength to one full one—over some sixty or more miles. It seemed to me that I must shorten my front in the only way I could, by moving farther up the Irrawaddy until I was nearer to Taungdwingyi. I decided, therefore, to fall back to just south of Magwe and to hold to the south of the west-east Magwe-Taungdwingyi lateral road. I did not like the idea of another withdrawal; we were fast approaching the dangerous state when our solutions to all problems threatened to be retreat, but I hoped this would be the last.
We held south of Allanmyo long enough to demolish the small oilfield on the opposite bank of the river, evacuated the town on the 8th April, and withdrew through a lay-back position to the final line. The Japanese did not follow up in strength and only minor skirmishes occurred when we got on to the new line. It was clearly no use sitting down, strung out in this way, waiting for the enemy to attack; we had somehow to collect a striking force for counter-attack. This was by no means easy. One brigade had to be west of the river and two weak divisions, less this detachment, on a forty-mile front held out little hope that we could scrape together for the counter-attack anything really effective. I, therefore, strongly pressed the Army Commander to make the Chinese, who were now in and north of Pyinmana, take over the eastern end of my line. He agreed, and Stilwell ordered General Tu, commander of the V Army, to relieve me with a regiment, and later a division, in the Taungdwingyi area.
These were my first active contacts with Stilwell, who had arrived in Burma a few days after me. He already had something of a reputation for shortness of temper and for distrust of most of the rest of the world. I must admit he surprised me a little when, at our first meeting, he said, ‘Well, General, I must tell you that my motto in all dealings is “buyer beware”,’ but he never, as far as I was concerned, lived up to that old horse-trader’s motto. He was over sixty, but he was tough, mentally and physically; he could be as obstinate as a whole team of mules; he could be, and frequently was, downright rude to people whom, often for no very good reason, he did not like. But when he said he would do a thing he did it. True, you had to get him to say that he would, quite clearly and definitely—and that was not always easy—but once he had, you knew he would keep to his word. He had a habit, which I found very disarming, of arguing most tenaciously against some proposal and then suddenly looking at you over the top of his glasses with the shadow of a grin, and saying, ‘Now tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.’ He was two people, one when he had an audience, and a quite different person when talking to you alone. I think it amused him to keep up in public the ‘Vinegar Joe, Tough Guy’ attitude, especially in front of his staff. Americans, whether they liked him or not—and he had more enemies among Americans than among British—were all scared of him. He had courage to an extent few people have, and determination, which, as he usually concentrated it along narrow lines, had a dynamic force. He was not a great soldier in the highest sense, but he was a real leader in the field; no one else I know could have made his Chinese do what they did. He was, undoubtedly, the most colourful character in South-East Asia—and I liked him.
The Burma Corps had now entered the ‘Dry Belt’. The country, instead of being green and thickly covered, was brown and bare, with occasional patches of parched jungle. The water-courses, worn through the low undulating hills, were dry, and the general effect was of heat and dust. Yet the terrain was too cut up by nullahs and stony hills for the free movement of motor transport off roads. We had, as far as we were able, reorganized our fighting troops’ transport. Infantry brigades were now partly on a pack basis, and vehicles with divisions had been reduced to meet only their more essential needs. The vehicles thus saved had been formed into a corps pool of mechanical transport, which was held back and allotted as required. Apart from tactical reasons, if we were to continue to supply the troops, this reorganization would have been forced on us by our losses in vehicles by air attack, destruction in battle, and above all through lack of proper repair facilities and spares. The greater flexibility in rear thus obtained, combined with the increased pack element forward, would, we hoped, enable our striking force, when we had collected it, to attack in flank any Japanese columns that might penetrate the front.
Relying on the Chinese to take over the Taungdwingyi end of the front, we planned to have as striking force under H.Q. 1st Burma Division, 13 Brigade of that division, 48 Brigade of the 17th Division, and 7 Armoured Brigade. Limited water supplies compelled their location in two somewhat widely separated groups. 48 Brigade and 7 Armoured Brigade at Kokkogwa, ten miles west of Taungdwingyi, 13 Brigade at Thityagauk, eight miles farther west still. The ‘line’ would have to be held by the rest of the corps, the 17th Division, less its 48 Brigade, on the left and the two remaining Burma brigades astride the Irrawaddy. Pushed out in front to give warning of hostile approach were detachments of the Burma Frontier Force. The final disposition could not be taken up, nor could the striking force be collected until the Chinese arrived at Taungdwingyi. We waited expectantly for them.
We waited in vain. I kept my headquarters in Taungdwingyi in the attempt to make direct contact with the Chinese. Messages via Burma Army H.Q. and Stilwell brought vague answers. The regiment was on its way. It would arrive next day, two days hence. It was held up by supply difficulties; if we would send rice it would come. Officers were sent out to look for it. It was reported here, there; the reports were then cancelled. At last some Chinese were actually contacted and disappeared again. This was repeated. It was rather like enticing a shy sparrow to perch on your windowsill. We dumped supplies of rice. Chinamen appeared, collected them, and melted away again. We dumped the rice a little nearer Taungdwingyi each time and at last a Chinese unit did appear there. But, alas, it was not the promised regiment, only what was called a ‘guerrilla battalion’ and a very small one at that, quite insufficient and quite inadequately equipped to take over by itself any part of the line. So the 17th Division had to remain in and about the town, which was made into a real stronghold. Large parts of it were levelled by controlled burning, not only to improve fields of fire and increase freedom of movement, but to avoid the complete destruction such as had befallen Prome. It was as well this clearing was done as air attacks became frequent and heavy.
One raid occurred as divisional commanders and others were assembling at Corps Headquarters for a conference. Some of us were just finishing breakfast when the alarm went. In a group we walked towards the slit-trenches, I still carrying a cup of tea. Looking up, we could see the usual tight wedge of twenty or thirty bombers coming straight over. The mess servants and others saw them too and began to run for shelter. I had been insistent on stopping people running at these times as it had led to panic, so continuing our move at a slow and dignified pace, I called out to them to stop running and walk. I remember shouting in Hindustani, ‘There’s plenty of time. Don’t hurry!’ a remark that almost qualified for the Famous Last Words series. At that instant we heard the unmistakable scream of bombs actually falling. With one accord two or three generals and half a dozen other senior officers, abandoning dignity, plunged for the nearest trench. Scott, being no mean athlete, arrived first and landed with shattering impact on a couple of Indian sweepers already crouching out of sight. I followed, cup of tea and all; the rest piled
in on top, and the whole salvo of bombs went off in one devastating bang.
Poor Scott, crushed under our combined weight, feeling warm liquid dripping over him, was convinced that I had been blown into the trench and was now bleeding to death all over him. His struggles to come to my assistance were heroic, but almost fatal to the wretched bottom layer of sweepers. We hauled ourselves and them out, and, slightly shamefacedly, returned to our conference.
On the 8th April, I moved Corps Headquarters to Magwe, on the other flank, a much better communication centre and not quite so much in the front line, though equally annoyed by air attack. It was also on the main road and much nearer to Yenangyaung, where the oilfields were now being prepared for demolition. I spent a good deal of my time on the lateral road from Magwe to Taungdwingyi which ran just behind our front, and I do not think I have ever disliked a road more. It was, for most of its course, unshielded from the air, and throughout the hours of daylight the Japanese kept a constant patrol of two or three fighters over it. A jeep was the safest vehicle; from it you had a clear view of the sky, and it was easy to spring in one bound from your seat to the ditch. One often did! Once when I was visiting his area, Curtis who commanded 13 Brigade, went ahead in a closed car with the colonel of the Inniskillings beside him. A Japanese fighter swooped and riddled the back of their car. The colonel was killed instantly, and when we came up we found Curtis bleeding from three wounds, all luckily superficial. Bandaged but completely unshaken, he took me round his positions without any further reference to the incident. I have rarely seen a better instance of steady nerves.
It soon became evident that the Japanese were preparing a strong push for the oilfields. From such indications as we were able to get, it looked as if their main thrust would come directly up the east bank of the river. Japanese reinforcements, we knew, had been pouring in through Rangoon. Their old formations would have been made up in strength again and there would almost certainly be new ones added. The blow, when it came, would be heavy. All this made me more anxious to pull the 17th Division out of Taungdwingyi, even if only to free 48 Brigade for the striking force. The promised Chinese regiment, however, showed no signs of turning up, and Army Headquarters were very insistent that the corps should keep a strong force in the town. True, it should have been the point of junction between the Allied Armies, but I ought, I think, when I could not persuade Army Headquarters to agree to weakening the garrison, to have done it myself.
The expected enemy advance began on the 10th April, covered by numerous small parties of hostile Burmans and Japanese, disguised as peaceful villagers. These tactics were difficult to counter, as the countryside was covered by numbers of genuine refugees trying to escape from the battle area. It was always a toss-up for our men whether the group of Burmese men, women, and children, wandering past their positions with their creaking bullock carts, were what they seemed or Japanese with concealed machine-guns.
Early on the 11th, the advanced posts of 1 Burma Brigade were in touch with large, formed bodies of the enemy. A little later, 13 Brigade south of the main road was engaged with a Japanese regiment, while 48 Brigade was dealing with parties, sometimes trying to pass as Chinese, attempting to infiltrate north. There was heavy fighting that night when the Japanese real attack was fiercely pushed home against both 1 Burma Brigade on our right and 48 Brigade at Kokkogwa. Both attacks were repulsed. That against 48 Brigade was one of the bitterest fought actions of the whole campaign. The enemy attacked fanatically and in strength. It was a pitch-dark night, lightened fitfully by violent thunderstorms. By dawn on the 12th, after fierce hand-to-hand fighting that had swayed back and forward in attack and counter-attack, the Japanese were flung back and the tanks moved out to a good killing. Unfortunately, while these attacks, both on 1 Burma Brigade and on 48 Brigade, were being repulsed, other considerable Japanese forces infiltrated between our groups and established themselves in positions from which they could fire on the road. Throughout the day, pressure up the east bank increased and hostile aircraft constantly struck at any movement.
I took General Alexander with me when I visited both divisional headquarters, and we saw something of the start of the battle. We were machine-gunned from the air at Scott’s headquarters, which although well hidden in a big clump of forest were betrayed, I think, by tracks leading into the trees, or perhaps by Burmese agents. General Alexander, as usual, was quite unperturbed and refused to take shelter in a trench, as I did very briskly, preferring to stand upright behind a tree. I was very annoyed with him for this, not only because it was a foolhardy thing to do, but because we had been trying to stop the men doing it. We had lost a number in this way. It was all right as long as the hostile aircraft did not come from more than one direction and if they did not drop the small anti-personnel bombs some of their fighters carried. If, as often happened, they did either of these things, results were apt to be unpleasant for everyone not in a trench or flat on the ground. This was not the only time I found the Army Commander’s courage above my standard.
Returning from Taungdwingyi late that afternoon, we found 48 Brigade had just cleared the main road of a big Japanese infiltration party that had tried to put a block across it. Our car was held up as the fight was still going on about eight hundred yards south of the road, and the enemy, with what appeared to be a single infantry gun, were shelling a bridge over which we had to pass. Their shooting was not very effective, but they might score a bull in time, so I whistled up a couple of light tanks that were standing by and suggested to General Alexander that he got into one and I into the other to cross the bridge.
‘What about my car and the driver?’ he asked at once.
‘Oh, he’ll have to stand on the gas and chance it,’ I replied.
‘But it’ll be just as dangerous for him as it would be for me!’
‘Yes, but he’s not the Army Commander.’
‘All right,’ said Alexander. ‘You go in a tank. I’m staying in the car!’
So, of course, we both went in the car.
During the night, 12th/13th April, the Japanese resumed their attacks. 48 Brigade again heavily repulsed the one on their front, but we were not so fortunate on our 1 Burma Brigade flank. During the 12th, Scott, expecting this attack, had ordered the reinforcement of the forward troops on the river bank while he prepared to strike the enemy assault in flank next morning with his main mobile reserve. Unfortunately, his division was lamentably short of signal equipment, especially wireless, while telephone cable was constantly cut by saboteurs and agents. As a result, orders went astray and moves were delayed. Meanwhile, in the dark, Japanese dressed as Burma Rifles and as civilians surprised the Burma Rifles and Burma Frontier Force dug in on the river bank. Strong Japanese forces followed up and when our delayed reinforcements, not knowing this had happened, approached next morning they were ambushed. Although they rallied, counterattacked, and rescued some of the prisoners taken in the night, they were compelled to fall back, leaving the way to the north open. Japanese pressure against 1 Burma Brigade increased, there was considerable infiltration by strong enemy parties, and certain of our units gave way. The striking force, moving down to counter-attack, became involved in a series of fights with enemy groups, and exhausted itself by marching and counter-marching to deal with them. Finally 1 Burma Brigade, in much confusion, fell back to the main road, exposing the whole of our right flank and giving the enemy a clear run for Magwe.
The first news we had at Corps Headquarters was a warning from Scott that the situation on the river bank was obscure, but that he feared something unpleasant had happened. This was quickly followed by the arrival of certain fugitives, who, as is the way of fugitives, described the heroic fight they had put up and assured us they were the sole survivors. I had enough experience to know that things are never quite as bad—or as good—as first reports make them, but this was obviously serious. Something had to be done at once to reconstitute our right flank. There was very little available; nothing, in fact, except a
handful of exhausted units we had pulled out for a short rest. These, hurriedly organized into some sort of a force, were sent off. First, in mechanical transport, the 2nd King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, now very weak in numbers indeed, to hold Myingun and block the enemy advance along the river bank; following them the 1st Cameronians, also only a skeleton battalion, and one of our Indian Mounted Infantry detachments. I also brought a battalion from 2 Burma Brigade back across the river to form a fresh reserve.
Corps Headquarters, somewhat hampered by a couple of air raids, packed rather hurriedly and stood by for a move. It was on these occasions, far too frequent, that we congratulated ourselves on the smallness of our staff and lightness of our equipment.
By the morning of the 14th April it was clear that there was a wide gap between our two divisions, the road from Magwe to Taungdwingyi was completely cut, and very strong Japanese forces were astride it between 13 Brigade and 48 Brigade. Neither of these brigades was now on the offensive; both were fighting hard defensive battles against superior numbers. I agreed with Scott that there was no prospect now of getting his striking force going again. For this reason and because the failure of communication made it practically impossible for Burma Division to control it, I reverted 48 Brigade to the 17th Division. Immediately south of us the improvised force sent to reconstitute the flank was heavily engaged. The Yorkshiremen were, indeed, surrounded—they eventually most gallantly cut their way out—and the remaining units had not the strength to hold the Japanese. There was nothing for it but to pull back this flank to the deep, dry water-course of the Yin Chaung, which, starting just north of Taungdwingyi, meandered from east to west to enter the Irrawaddy some eight miles south of Magwe, and to try with the 1st Burma Division to hold that obstacle. If we could not, then our next halt would for reasons of water supply have to be on the Pin Chaung, north of Yenangyaung. In other words, we should lose the oilfields.
Defeat Into Victory Page 8