by David Rooney
When Stilwell returned to Chungking he witnessed Chiang’s fury at close quarters, but he bided his time, trying always to focus attention back on the campaign in Burma. In this he found that Chiang’s attitude had hardly changed since the frustrating times of the retreat from Burma. Chiang argued that the Japanese were still too strong and therefore it was best to stay on the defensive because he could not risk the effect on the Chinese people of another defeat.
During early December 1943 Stilwell found time to write down some more considered thoughts. His critics have long maintained that he was acutely oversensitive and had such a chip on his shoulder that it warped his judgement. Some of his jottings at this time appear to confirm this. He wrote admiringly of Stalin, who had kidded Churchill that he should execute 50,000 German officers, saying that ‘It was like a blood transfusion to see Stalin put backbone into our gasbags.’ Shortly afterwards, however, he referred to ‘Bloody Joe’ and suggested that the western leaders were lucky to get away with their shirts in Teheran.
These comments were followed by a long memo headed ‘DECK HAND DIPLOMAT. A brief experience with international politics confirms me in my preference for driving a garbage truck.’ He followed this with a scathing indictment of diplomacy and the stuffed-shirt diplomat who thinks he guides the ship of state with lightning intellect and unerring precision and ends up without his shirt. ‘Or rather our shirt … It is very confusing to a deck-hand to be pitchforked in among this class of people, especially if he is a military deck-hand.’ He argued that, in war, the military aspect should be of primary importance, but it is not allowed ‘to infringe on the Sacred Cow of Diplomacy’. Taking a general swipe at incompetent people in senior positions, he wrote, ‘As long as we go on paying off political debts with top posts, we handicap ourselves out of the race.’ He stressed that the richest nation in the world was a standing temptation to chisellers. Again he referred admiringly to the Russians, who settled a problem in Manchuria by saying to the Japanese, ‘If you Japs don’t keep your pig’s snouts out of our garden it will be too bad.’ In his view ‘The Japs needed no interpretation by the protocol boys to tell them just where they stood.’ He advocated a mental attitude based on realism and mused, gloomily, that international politics was like playing poker. All that was needed among a group of contestants was ‘one sucker, especially if he has plenty of dough’.
On 14 December 1943, after receiving mail and Christmas cards marked ‘Don’t open till Christmas’, he wrote to his wife: ‘Like hell. Where will I be by Christmas?’ but then ‘I came nearer to crying than at any time since I saw you’ – so perhaps he did have a sensitive nature. He quickly reverted to the question of Roosevelt. ‘Our Big boy doesn’t seem interested in us … The day of the giants is gone and most of the bigger statues have clay feet. I don’t care for a guy who greets me as “Joe” and reaches for a knife when I turn round.’ He then made the first mention of going back into Burma, saying that his Chinese divisions had done well at Ledo, and he also praised the young pilots who kept the traffic going over the Hump. He ended on a lighter note: ‘I found out what Carmel means. In a guide book of Palestine it means “Vineyard of the Lord”. And ain’t that the truth.’
The issues that were side-tracked, fudged or reversed at Cairo and Teheran came back to haunt Stilwell in Chungking. Chiang, still smarting from the cancellation of BUCCANEER, refused to commit Yoke Force to firm action unless the Allies made a major landing in Burma. Stilwell argued powerfully but Chiang remained adamant. He did, however, concede one significant point by giving Stilwell complete control of the Chinese divisions that had been trained at Ramgarh. Illustrating the highly volatile situation he was in, but also his grim determination to prove that he believed in the Chinese soldier, he wrote after Chiang gave him command: ‘Apparently confidence has been established. A month or so ago I was to be fired and now he gives me a blank cheque. If the bastards will only fight, we can make a dent in the Japs. There is a chance for us to work down to Myitkyina, block off Mogaung and actually make the junction, even with Yoke sitting on its tukas. This may be wishful thinking in a big way, but it could be.’
During this hectic week in Chungking, Stilwell touched briefly on an issue that was to prove substantially more significant than the defeat of the Japanese. On 15 December 1943 he wrote, ‘The Reds are no longer afraid of Chiang. The Central Government men desert to them. One whole company deserted and the Reds sent the rifles back. “We can’t force the men to return, but here are the rifles.” More troops move up to contain the Reds, but their propaganda is working. They feel Chiang’s position is weak.’
This small incident, illustrating the confidence of Mao’s troops and their contemptuous attitude to the forces of Chiang and the Kuomintang, was indicative of major future developments in China. In the 1930s, although Chiang drove out Mao and the Communists on the Long March, Stilwell as military attaché compared Chiang’s troops unfavourably with the Communists. Now, in a significant moment in December 1943, when Stilwell was about to give up the struggle with Chiang in Chungking and return to command his troops in Burma, an opportunity was lost that could have changed the course of China’s history.
By 1943 Mao Tse-Tung had established himself as a tough and successful guerrilla leader. His success was based on a clear grasp of the principles of guerrilla war, as well as of the relationship between the guerrilla and the community, but at that time he was still in his remote fastness at Yan’an in northwest China. A few brief examples from his thesis on guerrilla war show at once the difference between him and Chiang. Mao wrote that guerrilla hostilities were the university of war and that military action was the way to attain a political goal; he even used humour, saying that ‘we must become good at running away because we do it so often’. His basic but brilliant guerrilla theories laid the foundations for military success, but when Hiroshima ended the war against Japan in August 1945 he was still in a relatively weak position.
We can now consider one of the great ‘what ifs’ of history. Stilwell fought consistently for the creation of a strong and effective Chinese army. When Roosevelt was preparing for the Casablanca Conference, he stated clearly that the American aim was for Chiang to be strong enough to defeat the Communists and at the same time to curb Russian strength in the Far East. Stilwell backed this up with a strongly worded memo urging Chiang to seize the opportunity to make China strong and safe while the generous offer of American money, weapons, aircraft and supplies was available. Initially Stilwell had gained agreement for the supply and training of thirty divisions. As negotiations proceeded this number was raised to sixty and then to ninety. Stilwell, always the passionate American patriot who wanted his country’s huge investment to be used effectively and honestly, developed a policy and a philosophy which, if implemented, would have changed the outcome of the Chinese civil war and, with it, the post-war history of China. Stilwell was strongly supported by his old friend and colleague George Marshall. If Chiang had only played straight with Stilwell and worked to build up his army with the help of American munificence, he would by 1945 have been well on the way to having ninety trained and effective divisions armed with modern American weapons.
Marshall was later to give his name to the Marshall Plan, in which America poured billions of dollars into the effort to rebuild Europe and save it from Communism. How much more enthusiastic Marshall and the American people would have been if, in 1945, they had been able to witness the triumphant advance of ninety divisions led by Chiang against the Communists, knowing that it was the outcome of American leadership and generosity and of the courage and leadership of their hero, Vinegar Joe Stilwell.
On 18 December 1943 this dazzling prospect was all but extinguished when Stilwell left the manure pile. He did note on that day that ‘for the first time in history a foreigner was given command of Chinese troops with full control over all officers and no strings attached, Can you believe it?’ He concluded with his usual down-to-earth view:
I’ve had
word from Peanut that I can get away from this dump tomorrow That means I’ll spend Christmas with the Confucianists in the jungle. ‘Jungle Bells, Jungle Bells, jungle all the way, Oh, what fun it is to ride in a jeep on Christmas Day.’ Until this mess is cleared up, I wouldn’t want to be doing anything but working at it, and you wouldn’t want me to either, thank God.
He actually left two days later, saying, ‘Off for Burma again … CAN WE PUT IT OVER?’
CHAPTER 9
Back to Burma
Stilwell arrived back in Burma in mid-December 1943 and went at once to the front-line HQ of General Sun’s advancing 38 Division. Clearly the best of the Chinese divisional commanders, Sun was nonetheless timorous when facing Japanese troops. Stilwell was driven on by his determination to prove that when well fed, well trained and well armed the Chinese soldier was as good as any, and he believed – correctly – that the only way of achieving this was to lead them personally. For this he has been seriously criticised, particularly by American military commentators, who ridiculed the idea that the Deputy Supreme Commander, a general, should fill the role of a battalion commander. Yet he had done that at Taungoo during the retreat and was to do it again in the fighting down the Hukawng valley. It does appear that he was not popular with other American commanders, and Mountbatten recorded that 90 per cent of them hated his guts, while among his own staff he was feared and disliked by many. This was to become a serious issue during the advance to Myitkyina, when it frequently appeared that his staff became sycophantic and told him only what they thought he wanted to hear.
In spite of all criticism, Stilwell never wavered in his fundamental determination to ensure that, as an American patriot, he would do his best to see that the vast American investment in the Chinese cause was used honestly and effectively. He remained convinced that the best way to assist China was to drive forward in north Burma and re-establish a road link with the old Burma Road and that this should be achieved through positive leadership of the Chinese divisions trained at Ramgarh. The key to all this would be the capture of the town of Myitkyina and its airfield, from which Japanese aircraft were able to make damaging attacks on the airfields in northern India used by the planes taking supplies over the Hump and on the constant air traffic over the Hump itself.
These ideas were foremost in Stilwell’s mind when he returned to Burma and set up his headquarters at Shingbwiyang, which, after slow and laborious progress, the road from Ledo had finally reached. Shingbwiyang lay just north of Yubang Ga, where Sun’s advance troops were held up by a defensive position that was firmly occupied by Japanese troops of General Tanaka’s 18 Division. Stilwell’s forces were to discover, as did the advancing units of Slim’s Fourteenth Army, that the Japanese defenders were rarely knocked out by an artillery barrage because they dug tunnels and constructed cover over their slit-trenches, and they were ready to defend their positions to the death.
To the Chinese troops who faced Tanaka, Stilwell not only gave strong tactical leadership but his presence among them and his well-known concern for their welfare also improved their morale dramatically. They were immensely impressed that a very senior American officer spoke their language, shared their front-line conditions and rations, distributed his own cigarettes and made sure that if they were wounded they would be flown out to hospital and not just left to die.
When Stilwell arrived at Shingbwiyang, Sun’s leading units were in a bad way, having been surrounded at Yubang Ga by a Japanese counterattack. This was not as dangerous as it might have been because valuable lessons had been learnt from the first Chindit expedition, and supplies were airlifted in. Stilwell, after discussion with Sun, quickly organised another attack on Yubang Ga, which started on 24 December. The advancing Chinese units followed a creeping artillery barrage, but when the barrage lifted they hesitated for a few crucial minutes before going in to the attack, and as they tried to overcome the mines, barbed wire and trenches in front of the Japanese positions they were met by devastating Japanese machine-gun and mortar fire.
This was the start of a prolonged battle at Yubang Ga that lasted nearly a week but at the end of which the Chinese for the first time defeated a strong Japanese unit holding a prepared defensive position. The victory was won at heavy cost – with more than 300 killed and 400 wounded – but it had a significant effect on the morale of all Chinese troops.
Stilwell’s own jottings give a vivid impression of the battle. After the first day’s fighting he wrote, ‘All things considered the Chinese did a good job. The men are fearless and the junior commanders are O.K. Very tough going to get Japs out of this jungle.’ The next day – Christmas Day 1943 – he noted that the Japanese who were left in a pocket that had been overrun had killed themselves with hand grenades. He did his best to encourage Sun, who ‘swears they are trying to do a good job for the lao hsien sheng [the old gentleman, meaning Stilwell]. The troops are all bucked up to have me with them, but commanders are uneasy for fear I get hit and they be held responsible. Insistent that I stay back and let them do it.’ By 29 December the Japanese had been driven back and seven Japanese officers had been captured. ‘Good work by Chinese: aggressive attack, good fire control, quick action. They are full of beans and are tickled to death at beating the Japs.’ These brief comments on the battle were frequently interspersed with details of what he had for breakfast – e.g., ‘Breakfast oatmeal, hot cakes, bacon, coffee, jam and butter’, and on 31 December his only diary entry was ‘Turkey for supper, no fooling, with cranberry sauce and sweet potatoes. Last day of 1943. R.I.P.’
Clearly, it was Stilwell’s leadership that brought the victory, but his isolation at the front line in the jungle meant that the flood of ‘urgent’ and ‘top-priority’ messages from Delhi and Chungking could not reach him. His able deputy in Delhi, Lieutenant General Daniel Sultan, did his best, but there were always issues on which Stilwell alone could decide. One such matter arose out of the need to determine SEAC’s complicated command structure, which demanded his presence in Delhi. The problems were severe enough, but Stilwell’s varied roles as Deputy Supreme Commander SEAC, Chief of Staff to Chiang Kai-Shek and commander of the American–Chinese forces added to the difficulty. This was exacerbated by Stilwell’s antipathy to the British General Sir George Giffard, who commanded SEAC ground forces. Giffard was respected by his British colleagues, but to Stilwell he appeared as the epitome of the Limeys who did not want to fight. SEAC had proposed that Stilwell with his two Chinese divisions, along with Slim and the Fourteenth Army, should come under Giffard’s overall command.
When the proposal was discussed at a conference chaired by Mountbatten, Stilwell used every possible ploy to oppose it. He claimed that, under his orders from the President, he could not put his troops under a commander from another country. Then he claimed that as Deputy Supreme Commander he could not be placed under the authority of a lesser commander. Mountbatten tried desperately to solve the problem. Slim, who was present, commented that Stilwell fell back on a surly obstinacy that showed him at his worst. As Supreme Commander Mountbatten could, ultimately, have removed any senior officer, but to remove Stilwell in that situation was unthinkable. Then, to everyone’s amazement, when there appeared to be total impasse Stilwell said he would serve under Slim until the Chinese forces reached Kamaing in the Mogaung valley. Stilwell and Slim then left the conference and went straight to the former’s HQ in Delhi to hammer out the details of how this almost Gilbertian situation might be made to work. Fortunately the two leaders agreed on their next move, which was to provide maximum support for the Chinese who were advancing from Ledo towards Myitkyina against Tanaka’s 18 Division, and to use the Chindits to assist in that plan. After describing this incident Slim explained that, based on his experience of Stilwell during the retreat from Burma he would send him as few written directions as possible, and that when a serious matter was to be discussed he visited him in person: ‘Stilwell, talking things over quietly with no one else present, was a much easier and [more] li
keable person than Vinegar Joe with an audience. Alone, I never found him unreasonable or obstructive.’
Back in the jungle Stilwell had his first meeting with Wingate, who had gone up to the HQ at Shingbwiyang – known familiarly as Shing – to discuss co-operation between Stilwell’s forces and the Chindits. The plans for the 1944 attack in north Burma included a Chindit brigade marching south from Ledo to attack the Japanese base at Indaw. Wingate had chosen 16 Brigade, commanded by Bernard Fergusson, for the task. Fergusson (later Lord Ballantrae) wrote two excellent books describing the first and second Chindit expeditions, respectively.* In one he recorded the significant moment when the two men met:
Wingate heavy-browed, broad and powerful; Stilwell, with his steel-rimmed spectacles, tallish, wiry and gaunt. Both had determined faces, with deep furrows about their mouths; both could display the characteristics of prophets: vision, intolerance, energy, ruthlessness, courage and powers of denunciation to scorch like a forest fire. I stifled a desire to hear them quarrel, and listened attentively to the terms of the bargain which they had struck.†
In return for American help, when he set off from Ledo and moved southwards towards Indaw, Wingate would send off two columns to capture the Japanese base at Lonkin, some 30 miles northwest of Kamaing. This would deal a serious blow to the Japanese as Stilwell’s forces advanced. Stilwell discussed the details and agreed the plan with Fergusson, whose background was Eton, Sandhurst the Black Watch and a period as ADC to Wavell. In addition, because of an eye injury he wore a monocle, so he appeared to be just the type of Limey officer who instantly repelled Stilwell. However, he was to learn later that Stilwell had written to Boatner, his chief of staff: ‘Help this guy. He looks a dude but I think he’s a soldier.’ Fergusson, who was pleased with this comment and reproduced it in The Wild Green Earth, lived up to expectations and captured Lonkin. Unfortunately, this was to have little effect on the American advance, and the diversion of the two Chindit columns to Lonkin seriously weakened 16 Brigade, which failed in its main task at Indaw.