‘And what do you want?’ I asked, still in a bad temper.
One of them stepped forward.
‘The Japs have taken Monywa,’ he said, ‘and if you listen you will hear them mortaring!’
A deathly pause fell on the gathering. Then sure enough, softened by distance but unmistakable, came the Wump, wump, wump! of Japanese mortars. The silence was broken by Taffy Davies.
‘And you can tell Army Headquarters that!’ he said.
The situation was a nasty one. We knew that, except for the very small garrison of Monywa itself, the only troops near were the headquarters of the 1st Burma Division just south of the town. Scott’s headquarters would have with it only a platoon of Burma Rifles, and we were hardly in any better shape for defence than they were. Something had to be done. Burma Division was called up on the wireless, an officer’s patrol sent off at once to investigate, and all available troops were collected. These consisted only of a Burma Frontier Force detachment, the remains of the Cameronians at about the strength of a company, and some Burma Mounted Police—a very scratch force, amounting to about three hundred men. Under the command of the redoubtable Lieut.-Colonel Thomas of the Cameronians, who was by now becoming used to dealing with such emergencies, it was sent down the road with instructions to hold any Japanese as far south as possible. Orders were sent to the 1st Burma Division to concentrate its two brigades, 1 and 13, at Chaungu on the road fifteen miles south of Monywa. At the same time, I ordered the 17th Division to send by rail under cover of darkness 63 Brigade to join the Burma Division at Chaungu. With these three brigades Scott was to advance in the morning and retake Monywa. I also told the 17th Division to send back a brigade as soon as possible to hold Ye-u. The situation as we knew it was reported to Army Headquarters with an urgent request for the return of some, at least, of the tanks which we had left to cover the Chinese. General Alexander immediately sent me two squadrons, one to Ye-u, the other to Chaungu. I then ordered Corps Headquarters to pack.
Having taken all these steps, there was little we could do except wait. It was a toss-up, if the Japanese had really taken Monywa, whether they would turn north or south from the town. If south it would probably be unpleasant for Headquarters 1st Burma Division; if north, for us. We had the scanty transport of our headquarters formed up ready to get on to the road, the men sleeping alongside the vehicles, with our Burmese Defence Platoon, stiffened by a few British clerks, out as sentry posts. We had no great faith in the reliability of this Defence Platoon which had suffered a great deal from desertion. Our doubts were justified; a few days later the whole platoon disappeared in the night. I tried to get some sleep lying on the hard wooden platform that had been the abbot’s bed in the upper room of the small monastery round which our headquarters was grouped. My thoughts, listening to occasional distant explosions and the faint chatter of machine-guns, were not very cheerful. If the Japanese had a force of any size in Monywa, there was considerable danger that they had cut me off from almost the whole of my corps. Our timing had gone badly wrong. I reproached myself bitterly for having allowed 2 Burma Brigade on the west bank to continue its march.
Actually the Japanese had not at this time taken Monywa, although we believed they had. The first alarm had come just after seven o’clock in the evening, when machine-gun and mortar fire had suddenly opened from the west bank on to the town river front. Firing continued throughout the night, under cover of which a party of enemy crossed and established a road-block between the headquarters of 1st Burma Division and the town. More Japanese followed, and at 0500 hours on the 1st May a considerable force including many armed Burmans attacked 1st Burma Division H.Q. Some Indian Engineers with the British and Indian clerks and staff officers, under Scott, the Divisional Commander, put up a stout fight and fell back towards Chaungu. Several officers and men were killed or wounded; all kit and most of the equipment of the headquarters were lost, but they succeeded in getting away their ciphers and secret papers. It says much for their spirit and toughness that within a few hours they were functioning again as a divisional headquarters.
Early on the same day several large Japanese naval launches came up river and embarked six or seven hundred troops from the west bank. Our small garrison in Monywa opened fire with every weapon it had and inflicted numerous casualties as the ships were crossing, but the heavy Japanese artillery and mortar retaliation overwhelmed our few posts on the river front. The enemy landed, were reinforced, and cleared the town.
During the morning of the 1st May, 63 Brigade arrived by rail, detrained eight miles from Monywa, and at once advanced. They were held up about the old Burma Division Headquarters, where, in a village, the enemy had considerable strength. During the late afternoon one squadron of tanks and 13 Burma Brigade joined them outside Monywa, and 1 Burma Brigade reached Chaungu. The division laid on an attack by all three brigades for next morning.
Meanwhile, reports had been reaching Corps Headquarters confirming the loss of Monywa, the overrunning of Burma Division Headquarters, and the attempted move up-stream by Japanese naval craft. Owing to the break of communication with the 1st Burma Division which continued most of the morning, we had no news of the arrival of their brigades. I decided therefore as a precautionary measure to send back the bulk of Corps Headquarters to Ye-u. After they had left, some excitement was caused by Burma Mounted Police galloping into us with stories that Thomas’s force had been overwhelmed by thousands of Japanese. As, however, we were in touch with him by officers’ patrols and despatch riders we were not unduly alarmed. I collected about twenty of the policemen and, having told them what I thought of them, I kept them under my eye. However, something called me away, and as soon as my back was turned they had vanished, to become, I suppose, another gang of looters ahead of us.
On the 1st May, General Alexander and Stilwell were both in Ye-u, where my rear headquarters and the headquarters of the 17th Division were arriving. In view of the seriousness of the loss of Monywa, the Army Commander ordered the withdrawal from the Mandalay-Irrawaddy line to begin. He also brought the remainder of 7 Armoured Brigade from the Chinese back to Burma Corps. Accordingly, the 17th Division, less the brigade at Chaungu, was ordered to Ye-u, while Stilwell proposed to withdraw the 38th Chinese Division and remnants of the V Army to Katha and thence probably to India. This was, I think, the last time General Alexander and Stilwell met. That evening I sent the rest of my headquarters, with the exception of a small tactical group, into Ye-u.
The attack by the 1st Burma Division to recover Monywa went in on the 2nd May with two brigades up and one in support. One talks of brigades, but they were by now sadly depleted and the whole force did not amount in numbers to much more than one normal brigade group. The Japanese defence was stubborn as our troops fought their way into the town. There was a particularly bitter struggle around the railway station, which changed hands three times. By 1500 hours we were well into the town, thanks to a vigorous attack by 1 Burma Brigade, fighting well after its reconstitution with two Indian battalions. Another Japanese attempt to push naval launches up the river was frustrated by our mortar fire. All was going well when 13 Brigade received a message purporting to be from 7 Armoured Brigade to the effect that a withdrawal to Alon, north of Monywa, was ordered. 13 Brigade passed this to the 1st Burma Division who, after some doubt, accepted it as genuine, and ordered the whole division to pull out. Later it was discovered that the original order was given by an officer of 7 Armoured Brigade who said he had had it from the Army Commander. Communications in the Burma Division were most meagre and they relied to a great extent on relaying via tanks. It must have been in some such way that the message came through and was accepted as genuine. This was not found out until much later, and at the time we all believed that the message was a false one put out by the Japanese, probably using code captured when Burma Division Headquarters was overrun. Disappointing as a withdrawal was, just when Monywa was about to be retaken, the effect was not really great. All transport had already
by-passed the town and reached Alon; the rest of the division collected there during the 3rd May, covered by a rearguard and 7 Armoured Brigade. It then moved to Ye-u followed by the enemy, who that night were given a smart rap by the rearguard. The two brigades of the 17th Division from the Irrawaddy reached Ye-u by the 3rd May when the whole corps was concentrated in that area.
We were by this time accustomed to serious situations, but I could not admire too much the coolness with which my staff took every fresh crisis as it rushed upon us. We were faced with one now. The Japanese moving by the Chindwin were clearly making a great effort to cut us off from India. If they forestalled us either at Shwegyin, where our escape track reached the river, or at Kalewa or Kalemyo, they would cut our only road to India. We should then be in a desperate position. It was essential for us to get to all these places first. During the night of 2nd/3rd May, and next day, we pushed 16 Brigade of the 17th Division in lorries down the Shwegyin track as hard as we could to hold all three towns. It arrived in time and put a battalion each into Shwegyin and Kalemyo and two into Kalewa.
My headquarters and those of the 17th Division outside Ye-u were within a couple of miles of one another. During the night of the 3rd/4th May some Japanese parties infiltrated through the covering troops and attacked the 17th Division Headquarters with grenades and light machine-gun fire. An enemy jitter party also made noises and threw grenades round Corps Headquarters, while we, bereft of our defence platoon, stood-to half the night. The proceedings were further enlivened by an agitated British sergeant suddenly dashing into our midst, staggering up to Welchman, my chief gunner, and gasping out, ‘The battery’s overrun. They’re all dead and the guns lost.’ He then fainted gracefully but heavily into the brigadier’s arms. Of course the battery was all right. The sergeant had been wakened from an exhausted sleep by a bang as someone threw a grenade or firework, and, still asleep, had panicked. Men’s nerves were wearing thin. I do not altogether wonder that I said myself at this time, ‘If somebody brings me a bit of good news, I shall burst into tears!’ I was never put to the test.
Sun from the 38th Division visited me at Ye-u. He would still have liked to rejoin us and come out via Kalewa. I should have been very glad to have him, but I could not give him any encouragement as we both had our orders. He was then anxious, and rightly so, that we should not leave Ye-u until he was well to the north. I agreed to do my best to cover his flank and sent him on to General Alexander, who then ordered me to hold Ye-u until Sun’s rearguard was north of Shwebo. I was very willing to do this as, apart from wanting to help Sun, I saw little likelihood of clearing Ye-u and Shwebo, where we had many refugees, including European women and children, and over two thousand wounded, before Sun was away. He was doing a very difficult job and doing it well.
We gave up as much of our precious transport as we could for refugees and wounded, but I am afraid the wounded had a bad journey. There were few ambulances left, and we were compelled to pack the casualties into lorries and a few civilian buses that we picked up. The rough dusty track in these ill-sprung vehicles was a nightmare, and I fear many did not survive.
The 1st Burma Division, with one regiment of tanks, held a rearguard position on an arc south of Ye-u, while the 17th Division moved off to provide lay-backs at Kaduma, the entrance to the jungle track, Pyingaing, known always as Pink Gin, about half-way along it and at Shwegyin. On the evening of the 5th May, the Chinese being then out of Shwebo, we withdrew from Ye-u. Our going was delayed at the last minute by the discovery of a number of wounded who had been overlooked. Thanks to the energy, courage, and resource of MacAlevey, the chief medical officer of the 17th Division, they were got out just in time.
While we were waiting at Ye-u we pushed ahead some of our Sapper units to improve the track, and organized a part of the transport of 7 Armoured Brigade for ferrying troops. We also put in additional water-points, dumps of rations, and evacuating posts for sick, with an improvised traffic control system. Many of the water-course crossings were difficult because of soft sand, and all labour we could collect was turned on to laying corduroy tracks across them. It was as well this was done; otherwise the march, difficult enough, would have been much worse. Corps Headquarters moved to ‘Pink Gin’. From there, in order to reduce the congestion at Shwegyin river crossing that was already causing trouble, I sent 1 Burma Brigade, without any vehicles, north-west across country, to strike the Chindwin well north of Kalewa at Pantha, to cross there and make for Tamu. After an arduous march, it arrived on the 16th May. I should have done better had I risked the congestion and sent it to help defend Shwegyin. A scratch force of commando men and two companies of Gurkhas was at the same time sent south-west to the river, where a tributary entered it, to guard against a Japanese attempt to strike inland up the water-course and cut us off.
We now had three major anxieties. First, that the Japanese might cut us off and get a strong force between us and India. Second, that our food supplies might run short. We had been retiring down our line of communication until we got to Mandalay, and it was comparatively easy to draw from dumps or bases en route. Now we were no longer doing this but falling back away from our supplies. We had therefore to move stores long distances and try to build up supplies along the track. We did our best, but were haunted by the fear that we might not have enough in these dumps. As a precautionary measure, rations were still further reduced. Our third fear was the monsoon. This was the worst danger of all. If it came while we were still struggling hundreds of miles from safety, the track would turn to the most glutinous mud, vehicles would be bogged, and all movement practically impossible. Immobilized, we should be in imminent danger of starving. Even a heavy shower or two might have disastrous consequences. The odds were we might escape either the Japanese, the failure of our supplies, or the monsoon, but our chances of avoiding all three were slender. Actually, it was the Japanese who got us first.
To begin with, the withdrawal went reasonably well. 63 Brigade of the 17th Division came through, ferried in lorries. All of the 1st Burma Division passed safely over the Chindwin, its 13 Brigade crossing on the 9th May and marching for Tamu. The division, having by now shed most of its Burmese, besides suffering heavy casualties, was pitifully reduced in numbers. The first echelon of 7 Armoured Brigade arrived at Shwegyin, passed the bulk of its men and some of its wheeled vehicles over, and harboured its tanks under cover along the track to await calling forward as ships became available. The rearguard of the 17th Division, 48 Brigade, and the rest of 7 Armoured Brigade, was at ‘Pink Gin’, having covered forty miles in thirty hours. To avoid our three enemies, Japanese, hunger, and monsoon, speed in crossing the Chindwin was essential.
But speed was not easy to attain. Shwegyin was one huge bottle-neck. There had been originally six river steamers, each of which would take five or six hundred men packed tight, but not more than one lorry, two or three guns, and a couple of jeeps. Loading was slow from the single rickety improvised pier, which incidentally was submerged by a sudden rise in the river in the midst of our exodus, and had to be rebuilt. There was no direct crossing. Steamers leaving Shwegyin had to proceed six miles up-stream to Kalewa, unload, and return, a round trip of several hours. Nor was there even a cart track on either bank; from Shwegyin to Kalewa everything, except a man walking or a mule, had to go by river. The difficulties of embarkation were greatly increased by the hundreds of derelict civilian cars dumped by refugees, regardless of obstruction, in all the scanty open spaces and approaches to the ferry, and by numbers of Indian refugees hoping to cross the river.
The road to the pier ran for about the last fifteen hundred yards in the ‘Basin’. This was a horseshoe-shaped, flat space about a thousand yards wide, mostly open but with small clumps of jungle, surrounded on three sides by a steep two-hundred-foot escarpment, almost precipitous on the inside, but not so steep on the outside slopes which were covered with jungle. From the edge of this escarpment the whole of the ‘Basin’ was displayed at one’s feet. Looking dow
n, one felt it could be a death-trap, and now it was literally full of soldiers, refugees, animals, motor vehicles, guns, and tanks. It was obvious that if we were to get all these to Kalewa we should require the uninterrupted use of all six steamers for several days. Patterson-Knight of the Corps ‘Q’ staff and several officers from Burma Army Headquarters, left behind for the purpose by Goddard, were working heroically to load steamers throughout the twenty-four hours but, try as they might, it was a terribly slow business. Every gun had to be manhandled on to a deck where stanchions, railings, and fittings seemed specially designed and sited to make stowage difficult. Lorries and trucks had to be manoeuvred most delicately; one slight misjudgment and a vehicle jammed on the gangway or hanging into the river might mean hours of delay. I had already ordered only four-wheel-drive vehicles to be shipped; if we were, as seemed likely, only going to get out a portion of our transport we had better have what would be most useful. The embarkation of men was, of course, easy, as they had no kit to worry about except their arms. Before embarking all men had to cut wood for fuel and as they filed on board each man, as if in payment for his trip, threw a log on to the pile for the engine.
Burma Army Headquarters, when organizing the withdrawal of themselves, the administrative units, and refugees that preceded us, had installed Brigadier Ekin with a small staff as area commandant at Shwegyin. This was most helpful as it saved us from having to detach a brigade headquarters from one of the divisions, and gave a much needed continuity of control. The defence of the ‘Basin’ was not easy as it was surrounded by dense jungle, running, on the outside, right to the top of the escarpment. We had already pushed forward the Gurkha commando detachment to watch the most likely approach from the river. In addition, to prevent the passage of Japanese naval craft, a floating boom had been built from bank to bank about two miles south of Shwegyin, where a battalion and the small Marine flotilla were disposed to cover both sides of the river. The close-in defence of the ‘Basin’ along the escarpment was entrusted to another Indian battalion, and some detachments. Units were so weak that the defence was thin, but there were almost always troops waiting in the ‘Basin’ to embark who formed a reserve. We relied on our outlying defence screen for enough warning to give time to get these into position. To guard against air attack, which was a terrible danger in a place like this, we concentrated all our available anti-aircraft artillery—an amount that in any other theatre would have been regarded as pathetic.
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