Defeat Into Victory

by Field-Marshal Viscount William Slim

  The possibility that alarmed me most, however, was that the Japanese would, as they had in other towns, put a suicide garrison into Rangoon that would keep us out for the monsoon. I could not contemplate with anything but dismay a repetition of the Meiktila battle, around Rangoon at the end of a most precarious supply line, in the midst of the rains. I therefore urged that when the Fourteenth Army approached within striking distance of Rangoon from the north, an amphibious and airborne assault—our old friend ‘Dracula’—should be put in from the sea. I had always opposed ‘Dracula’ if it were to be done at the expense of the Fourteenth Army, but now, when divisions were being released both from Arakan and from my army, I believed we had enough troops to stage it without seriously affecting my offensive. Air support for the actual assault would, I realized, have to be at my expense, but our air superiority was so marked that I was prepared to accept that. The naval position had improved and we now had the landing craft necessary for a limited operation. The original ‘Dracula’ had been planned to take Rangoon while the Fourteenth Army was still far to the north; the new one would be, I hoped, a hammering on the back door while I burst in at the front. It could, therefore, be on a reduced scale and within our means.

  The ‘Dracula’ project had had a chequered career. Both Generals Giffard and Leese had, like me, opposed it when it meant reducing the Fourteenth Army. Later when it became possible to contemplate an amphibious operation with resources from elsewhere, General Leese had still condemned it. Even more confident than I was that the Fourteenth Army could take Rangoon unaided, he recommended that the forces now available for an amphibious operation should be used to seize the island of Phuket off the Kra Isthmus, as a preliminary to the reconquest of Singapore, rather than to help in the capture of Rangoon. Otherwise, he contended, there would be considerable and unnecessary delay in the next step after Burma, the reconquest of Malaya. On the 23rd February, Admiral Mountbatten had agreed. The decision was taken to discard ‘Dracula’ and prepare for the operation off the Kra Isthmus—Operation ‘Roger’—to be carried out not later than 1st June. For this a new corps, numbered 34, was formed in India of the 23rd Indian and 81st West African Divisions and 3 Commando Brigade, all withdrawn from Burma. I was delighted that Roberts, who had led the 23rd Division so well at Imphal, was given the new command. I had now seen him go from Colonel on the staff of my division in 1941 to Lieutenant-General in 1945, and I felt rather complacent about the report I had written on him at the Staff College ten years earlier.

  All the same, I was not happy about the decision to abandon the sea attack on Rangoon. I felt that, with all the risks we were taking, the extra insurance would have been wise. However, I did not let it worry me unduly, for I judged that, unless the luck of the weather were heavily against us, we ought to keep to schedule and manage alone. So confident of this was I, that I had already, on the 18th March, issued detailed orders for the advance on Rangoon, to carry out the Operation Instruction I had issued to corps commanders on the 19th December 1944.

  We had, in fact, been making plans quietly at Fourteenth Army Headquarters for the capture of Rangoon since the previous July, and in November, when our bridgeheads over the Chindwin were either achieved or about to be achieved, we settled down to serious planning. The last edition of Operation ‘Sob’, our Fourteenth Army private plan to reach the sea, envisaged a double advance, by the railway and by the Irrawaddy, with a full corps and a tank brigade on each. The Japanese would not, I calculated, be able to produce enough troops to stop us on both; if they held one corps, the other would break through. However, the state of our transport and shortage of supply aircraft soon ruled that plan out. We had, at the moment, seven divisions operating in Central Burma, but of these the 36th must leave the theatre almost at once as its American air transport was about to be removed. If we were to advance at all south of Meiktila and Yenangyaung, another division would have to go back to India—probably the 2nd British as its strength was falling and it was more difficult to supply than an Indian. This would leave five divisions, and of these, only three, with the two tank brigades, could be maintained by air in a rapid advance far to the south. Against these comparatively small striking forces the Japanese might still bring superior strength, and it was clear that we should have to concentrate our main effort on one axis. The question was, which?

  The nearness of the monsoon made me decide that the essential characteristic of our advance must be speed, and that presupposed a wholly mechanized force on the main axis. The strength of this should be at least a corps of two divisions and a tank brigade, and it was necessary, therefore, to choose the better route for a completely mechanized corps. We were leaving behind the open motorable country of Central Burma; whichever route we took there would be a single road, off which, even in dry weather, it would be difficult to deploy. When the rain set in, the movement of both wheeled and tracked vehicles off the metalled road would be impossible. There was little to choose between the northern half of either axis, but the farther one went south on the Irrawaddy line, the more numerous became the water channels that had to be crossed. All bridges would be blown, and, even if we carried an inordinate quantity of Bailey bridging, there would be serious delays—delays which we could not afford. In distance, too, the railway route had an advantage of some fifty miles. Most important of all, the farther east we drove through the Japanese, the more of them would be cut off in the roadless jungles of the Yomas, to struggle out as best they could during the monsoon—a second retreat with, I hoped, even more disastrous consequences to them than that from Imphal. There were, of course, disadvantages to the railway route. On it we should meet the stronger enemy group, and we should be liable to counter-attack in flank from the Shan and Karen Hills, where increasing hostile concentrations were being daily reported. In spite of these disadvantages, I chose the railway axis for my main advance. At the same time, to engage the enemy on as wide a front as possible, to split his forces and distract his command, I would push down the Irrawaddy Valley the maximum mobile force I could maintain. If we were held on the railway, I would at least have a second string to my bow.

  The choice of formations for the two lines of advance was not difficult. The 5th and 17th Divisions of 4 Corps were both on the new mechanized and airborne basis, and in addition, the bulk of that corps was collected in the Meiktila area, some fifty miles south of the general location of 33 Corps. It was obvious, therefore, that 4 Corps should follow the railway axis and be the main striking force. This did not mean that 33 Corps on the Irrawaddy route would be idle. Stopford could be relied on to push his divisions hard. Indeed, with less Japanese opposition, it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that he might reach Rangoon first. On the railway axis, all troops south of Toungoo would have to be completely on air supply; those north of it, as far as possible, on road and perhaps ran. For 33 Corps, on the river, there would be air supply for one division and part of the tank brigade only; the rest would have to manage on road and water transport.

  While we had been planning, a development had taken place which promised some embarrassment to the Japanese and consequently some advantage, even if no great one, to us. As early as 1943, we had heard that Aung San, the Burman whom the Japanese had made a Major-General and Commander-in-Chief of their puppet Burma National Army, was disappointed with his masters. In November 1944, we dropped near Pegu a member of the B.N.A., whom we had captured on the Chindwin, and through him and other agents kept touch with the various nationalist bodies inside Burma. We were soon getting wholesale demands from the Communist Anti-Fascist Organization for money, arms, and supplies. Then, in early March 1945, we got news that on the 16th of that month the Japanese were sending the B.N.A. to the front, but that Aung San and his men were ready to defect to us. On the 20th March, an officer of Force 136, the clandestine organization which engineered all these contacts, was parachuted in but failed to get any clear indications of the Burmese leaders’ intentions. However, on the 26th March, the B.N.A. ro
se, surprising and killing some Japanese officers and certainly adding to the anxieties and confusion of the enemy.

  There was at this stage a difference of opinion between Force 136 and our Burma Civil Affairs Organization. Force 136 wanted to foster and support the mutinous B.N.A. in all respects; Civil Affairs, claiming with a good deal of reason, that the B.N.A., especially after the liberation of Burma, would be more trouble than use, opposed any support of it. My opinion was that the B.N.A., prowling on their lines of communication, could not fail to be a nuisance to the Japanese and give them an uncomfortable feeling on dark nights. If they were not with us, as well as against the Japanese, we should end up by having to fight them, too. There was a lot to be said politically for having the only Burmese Nationalist armed force actually fighting on our side. I, therefore, recommended we should help Aung San, with arms and supplies, and try to get some tactical control of his forces to make them fit into the general plan. Admiral Mountbatten, quite apart from any arguments of mine, had come to the same conclusion and decided that Aung San should be supported. I did not expect the B.N.A., to exert any serious influence on the campaign, but I hoped they would—as in fact they did—occasionally cut up stragglers, harrass small parties, and ambush vehicles, but I made no changes in my plans because of any help expected from them.

  It was very plain to me—and if it had not been, plenty of people were willing to enlighten me—that this dash for Rangoon by a mechanized force, confined to one road, thrusting against time through superior numbers, was a most hazardous and possibly rather un-British operation. I knew the risks and the penalties of failure but, as I checked over the final plans, I was ready to accept them. Whatever the risks, we were winning. We had kicked over the ant-hill; the ants were running about in confusion. Now was the time to stamp on them. My soldiers were out for Rangoon, and anyone who was with them and had seen them fight could not doubt that they would get there. Once more the exhilaration running through the army was a tangible thing that could be seen and felt. I shared it.

  In my Operation Instruction of the 18th March, I gave as my main intention, ‘the capture of Rangoon at all costs and as soon as possible before the monsoon’. I divided the operation into three Phases:

  (1) The present battle.

  (2) An interim period for mopping up and regrouping.

  (3) The advance south.

  I hoped that Phase 1, which by the destruction of Kimura’s armies in Central Burma would make Phase 3 possible, would end shortly. In the Second or Interim Phase, which I hoped would also be a rapid one, Messervy’s 4 Corps, with the 5th and 17th Divisions and 255 Tank Brigade, would strike at the Japanese about Pyawbwe and prepare for the thrust south. Stopford’s 33 Corps, with the 2nd British and 20th Divisions, would clear the area Mandalay–Maymyo–Wundwin–Mahlaing–Myingyan, freeing all its roads and railways for our use. The 7th Indian Division, already on the Irrawaddy, would then replace the 2nd British and the corps would position itself for the advance south. The 19th Division would, as the 2nd and 20th moved west, take over the security of the area from Mandalay to Meiktila. In Phase 3, 4 Corps would push down the railway axis and take Rangoon. 33 Corps, moving on both banks of the Irrawaddy, would capture Chauk and cut off Yenangyaung by a flanking movement on Magwe. Then in turn, Yenangyaung, Prome and finally Rangoon, if possible before 4 Corps could reach it, would be occupied. At the start of Phase 3, the 19th Division would come under direct Fourteenth Army control and would be used to protect the left flank and communications of 4 Corps.

  Towards the end of March 1945, Kimura at last accepted defeat in the great battle of Central Burma, but before doing so he had used up every reserve available to him. He had run true to Japanese form; he had left it until too late. None the less, in spite of his plans and his armies crumbling about him, he prepared resolutely and energetically to deny us the two routes to the south.

  The line from Kyaukse to Chauk, on which he had hoped to halt our onrush, was gone. Katamura’s Fifteenth Army, with its 15th, 31st and 33rd Divisions, had disintegrated, and, with the fall of Kyaukse now imminent, any chance of reorganizing and re-equipping it in the forward area had vanished. Fugitive and scattered, it was now scrambling into the foothills to the east, but in those very Shan Hills the Japanese 56th Division in reasonably good order was arriving from the moribund Chinese front. Kimura ordered the shattered Fifteenth Army to collect on this division, and then to make for Toungoo, where, given time, he hoped to re-form it, and thus provide himself with a much needed reserve. His other armies, the Twenty-eighth and Thirty-third, though battered and short of artillery, transport, and much else, were still capable of fighting, especially defensively, with all the savage tenacity of the Japanese soldier. Kimura’s thoughts, like mine, must have turned to the advent of the monsoon; his with hope, mine with dread. If he could hold somewhere well north of Rangoon until the rains, he would at least gain the respite he so desperately needed. To this end he placed an army to bar each of our routes.

  On the railway axis, Honda’s Thirty-third Army, with the 18th, 49th and 53rd Divisions, was ordered to hold us about Pyawbwe, astride the road and railway to Toungoo. In addition, Kimura planned to use the 56th Division, now in the Shan Hills, not only to cover the collection of what was left of the Fifteenth Army, but to threaten and perhaps counter-attack in flank any advance of ours to the south along the railway.

  Sakurai’s task with the Twenty-eighth Army was to prevent our advance down the Irrawaddy at or north of Yenangyaung, while blocking any attempts by our forces to break eastward through the passes from Arakan. Under him were seven infantry and three artillery battalions in Yamamoto’s Force, the 54th and 55th Divisions and the 2nd Indian National Army Division. Like most plans drawn up by generals, Kimura’s was neat enough on paper. What it would look like on the ground was another matter.

  As March drew on, I found that with Kyaukse still holding out—it did not fall until the 30th—Phase 1 of my Operation Instruction was taking longer than I had intended. Time was running out, and the spectre of a Japanese stand in Rangoon began to haunt me more and more. It was difficult to get information of Japanese intentions, but there was certainly at this time no evidence that they would on our approach evacuate the city. My view was that, however desirable it might be to hasten the liberation of Malaya, it was more important to make sure of Rangoon. Apart from my own interest in the matter, I felt that a failure in Burma would be a strong brake on any invasion of Malaya. So I renewed my pressure for the modified ‘Dracula’. The British Chiefs of Staff unknowingly came to my assistance by saying that the attack on Phuket Island should not be attempted until it was quite certain we were about to take Rangoon. Partly because of this, on the 2nd April, the earlier decision was reversed, and Admiral Mountbatten gave orders that an amphibious assault on Rangoon by one division, with a drop by a battalion of parachute troops, should be prepared for not later than the 5th May. I was glad of this, even when, having failed to get them from any other source, S.E.A.C. took two Dakota squadrons from me to practice the Parachute Battalion. Their loss at once threw a heavier burden on Snelling and his overtaxed staffs. They grappled with it, as they had with all the impossibilities I had already demanded—and got—from them.

  I was all the more anxious to make the Second Phase of operations now beginning a rapid one. In the large block of Central Burma, between Myingyan–Mandalay–Wundwin–Chauk, there still remained many scattered but sometimes strong parties of Japanese who were either with dull ferocity holding out or trying, mostly by night, to escape south and east. I took advantage of the regrouping necessary for the advance on Rangoon to comb this area, whose roads and railways were essential to us, by what I called a ‘Union Jack’ manœuvre. This entailed passing strong columns diagonally through it; part of the 5th Division with other troops from the north-west to the south-east, and the 20th and 2nd Divisions from north-east to south-west. My corps and divisions were well trained in the staff work of rapid movement, and I gave th
em this rather complicated pattern of moves across each others’ communications with little fear of confusion as the quickest way to sweep the area.

  I was so eager to hurry things up that I pressed 33 Corps to begin their ‘Union Jack’ moves of Phase 2, while they were still fighting hard to end Phase 1 around Kyaukse. Stopford was able to make a successful start with 268 Brigade on the clearing operation on the 20th March, but it was not until the 26th that two brigades of the 2nd Division were able to join in. By sweeps through and across the area in several directions, which produced many clashes with small enemy groups, the greater part of the area was cleared, and the 2nd Division, with the exception of 5 Brigade, was withdrawn to fly out to India. The most serious resistance, it was then discovered, remained to be dealt with. It was centred on Mount Popa, an extinct volcano which rises majestically and abruptly nearly five thousand feet above the plain. Here, five or six hundred Japanese with several guns, including mediums, clung most tenaciously to the slopes of the mountain. At the end of March, 5 Brigade began operations to dislodge them, but although some enemy were killed and two guns captured, little progress had been made in a fortnight’s rather cautious skirmishing. To hurry things up, Stopford then reinforced 5 Brigade with that most useful maid-of-all-work, 268 Brigade, now reduced to two battalions and an Indian artillery regiment. After a series of brisk fights in rugged country, 268 Brigade by the 19th April had forced the enemy to withdraw from Mount Popa. Several of the groups into which the retreating Japanese split were intercepted, but the bulk of them got away without further serious loss.