by David Rooney
After a few days recuperation the brigade set out again to march towards Mogaung. They were now under Stilwell’s control. Two things should be stressed: Stilwell did not want to have the Chindits under his command, and from the start he used them as normal infantry and appeared to have no conception of their long-range penetration role. No Chindit unit had artillery or tank support, and now they were to be used against a carefully fortified base which the Japanese were determined to defend at all costs.
As 77 Brigade moved towards Mogaung, Lentaigne, who never visited them on the ground, sent Calvert new orders: he should approach Mogaung as swiftly as possible but would detach a part of the brigade to assist. 111 Brigade at Blackpool. Calvert sent off a sizable force, including a Gurkha unit, but under the prolonged monsoon downpour they found the Namying river to be a raging torrent which it was impossible to cross. They never reached Blackpool. They had to retrace their steps, and they suffered so much from the bites of leeches picked up in the jungle that many men had to have blood transfusions. Meanwhile, leading patrols from the reunited brigade reported that about 4,000 Japanese were holding Mogaung in a formidable defensive position that covered the rail, river and road approach to Myitkyina.
As he led his brigade north, Calvert heard on 18 May 1944 that Stilwell’s forces had captured Myitkyina. This was not in fact true. Rather, Merrill’s Marauders had captured the airfield, a couple of miles to the west. From that time on Stilwell was totally obsessed with capturing the town. This warped his judgement and prompted him to make a series of decisions that were to cost the Chindits dear. Calvert still hoped to be able to relieve 111 Brigade at Blackpool, but the raging jungle torrents made this impossible, and on 25 May he too heard that it had been abandoned. On the same day Lentaigne moved the Chindit headquarters to Shadazup in order to be close to Stilwell’s HQ, and it was there that he suffered the full onslaught of Stilwell’s anger at the news of Blackpool. Then, hoping to appear decisive, on 27 May he issued a peremptory order to Calvert: ‘You will take Mogaung.’
Lentaigne, sitting at Shadazup, illustrates one of the classic weaknesses that can beset a commander in the field – a weakness identified by Sun Tsu in China in 400 BC. Although he was now fairly close to the Chindit brigades, he never visited them and he never saw the terrain they had to cover. As a result he continued to issue orders that bore little relation to the situation on the ground and which the brigade commanders increasingly ignored. Two more Chindit brigades – 14 and the Nigerian Brigade – were ordered to the rescue of Blackpool, but they did not arrive in time, and after 25 May they moved slowly on towards Mogaung. It was left to Calvert and 77 Brigade, which had been behind Japanese lines since 5 March, to make the assault on Mogaung.
As the brigade approached Mogaung they had a series of fierce clashes with the Japanese. On one day alone the Chindits lost thirty killed or seriously wounded, but they inflicted heavier casualties on the enemy. Because of the appalling casualties Calvert was determined to seize an area where he could set up an airstrip so that supplies could be brought in and the wounded flown out. He was also determined to build up supplies of ammunition – especially bombs for the 3-inch mortars – so that there would be no shortage in the coming battle. At the same time he received support and valuable intelligence from the local Kachin people, as Merrill’s Marauders did further east. The Chindits fought their way slowly forward. In one village about a mile from Mogaung they captured several supply dumps and a well-camouflaged field hospital, complete with drugs. The patients fled or committed suicide. This success improved Chindit morale and they responded magnificently to Calvert’s leadership as he was always there in the thick of the fighting. On 10 June the Gurkhas captured the vital railway bridge on the approach to the town despite sustaining more than 100 casualties. Calvert had urged his units forward, hoping to capture the town before more Japanese battalions arrived from their victory at Blackpool. This, however, did not prove possible, and on 12 June two Japanese battalions joined the defenders. The next day Calvert called a meeting of his battalion commanders, who came in with gruesome reports. Most battalions had been reduced to less than half strength and the whole brigade could now muster only about five hundred men who were fighting fit. Most had already been wounded and were suffering from malaria and jungle sores. Supplies of food, medicine and ammunition had become increasingly erratic because requisitions now went through the chaotic headquarters at Shadazup.
The Chindits could not dig slit trenches because the ground was waterlogged and they suffered daily casualties from the Japanese artillery. Determined to eliminate the guns, Calvert organised an attack by Mustang fighter bombers and by all the available mortars, followed by an infantry assault using the newly arrived flamethrowers. The Japanese artillery position was overrun on 18 June, but at the cost of fifty casualties.
For days Calvert had been promised the support of the 114th Chinese Regiment, and that evening the first Chinese troops arrived. Communication problems meant that close liaison was not easy, but Calvert had recruited some Hong Kong Chinese into the Chindits who helped to overcome most of the language difficulties. The most serious difficulty came from an American liaison officer who caused dissension and whom Calvert dubbed Colonel Bluster. Following Chiang’s precepts, the Chinese preferred not to make frontal attacks, but just when Calvert was close to despair at his reduced numbers and the loss of so many fine men and close friends he was told that the Chinese had occupied a key sector by the railway station. As this covered a vital flank position, Calvert decided to put in a final attack at 0300 hours on 24 June. Once again the Mustangs started the attack, followed by more than 1,200 mortar bombs. Even with this onslaught the attackers from the Gurkha and South Stafford battalions came under murderous machine-gun fire, but with good covering fire and the use of flame-throwers a final desperate charge drove out the Japanese. As the position was consolidated the Chindits suddenly suffered more casualties from one flank. They discovered, at heavy cost, that the Chinese had not occupied the station area. The source of the false information that cost so many Chindit lives was the odious Colonel Bluster.
In a brief lull after the Japanese were finally despatched and Calvert’s troops won the great victory of Mogaung, a BBC newsflash announced that the town had been captured by Chinese–American forces. The Chindits were outraged. The false information had been sent, of course, by Colonel Bluster. Colonel Li, the commanding officer of the Chinese regiment, quickly brought the wretched fellow to Calvert’s HQ to apologise. The colonel himself also apologised and stated his clear understanding that it was Calvert’s brigade, whose bravery they all admired, which had captured Mogaung. Needless to say this statement did not receive the same publicity as the previous lie. Calvert alleviated a little of the fury by sending a signal to Stilwell’s headquarters: ‘Mogaung having been taken by the Chinese, 77 Brigade is proceeding to take Umbrage.’* The story goes that an intelligence officer at Stilwell’s HQ remarked that Umbrage must be a small place because he could not find it on the map.
Calvert’s magnificent leadership, evident since the launch of Operation Thursday on 5 March, has been internationally recognised, but rather than rejoicing at a signal victory he agonised over whether his loyalty to Wingate had made him ask too much of the ever faithful 77 Brigade, whose bones were now scattered along the grim trail from Broadway to Mogaung. British records show serious concern that Stilwell’s staff had at this time become sycophantic and that, partly out of fear, they would only tell him what he wanted to hear. The problem is reflected in two highly respected American accounts of the capture of Mogaung. Romanus and Sunderland merely wrote that ‘Mogaung fell on 26 June and both units claimed credit for the victory’,† while Tuchman records: ‘Mogaung was taken, causing a renewed outburst of the public relations war over rival claims for credit.’‡ In modern conflicts such as the Gulf War or the Iraq War the tensions of high command are well publicised – the incandescent exchanges in the First Gulf War between the Ameri
can commanders H. Norman Schwartzkopf and Colin Powell were there for all to see. If this could happen after a few days of war, who can assess the tension felt by Calvert after leading a brigade behind enemy lines, constantly in contact with the enemy, for 114 days?
Almost immediately after his victory at Mogaung, Calvert received the order from Lentaigne to march his brigade to Hopin. He refused point blank and said that he would stand by his decision before Stilwell or Slim or anyone. The relationship between Stilwell and the pathetically weak Lentaigne now broke down completely, and on 30 June, only four days after the capture of Mogaung, Mountbatten was forced to fly in to deal with the problem. Many of 77 Brigade who had kept going to the end simply lay down and died. Horrified by their deplorable physical state, Mountbatten ordered an immediate medical inspection – shrewdly including Merrill in the inspection team. Stilwell had driven the Marauders to such lengths that they refused to fight, so Merrill felt sympathy for the plight of the Chindits. The report was decisive, stating that all the survivors of 77 and 111 Brigades were physically and mentally exhausted. Mountbatten, the only officer senior to Stilwell, ordered that they should be flown out at once.
This decision took some time to reach Calvert who, to prevent any more foolish orders coming through, closed down the brigade’s radio. This gave another opportunity to the vile Colonel Bluster, who sent messages to Stilwell saying that 77 Brigade ‘were cowards, yellow, deserted, they walked off the field of battle, they should all be arrested’.* Calvert added that Bluster was the logical outcome of Stilwell’s anglophobia.
A few days later Calvert was taken to Shadazup, where a nervous Lentaigne accompanied him to an interview with Stilwell. Stilwell, sitting with his son and Boatner, his second in command, began aggressively Calvert’s description, continues:
‘Well, Calvert, I have been wanting to meet you for some time.’
‘I have been wanting to meet you too, Sir.’
‘You send some very strong signals, Calvert.’
‘You should see the ones my Brigade Major wouldn’t let me send.’
This was a moment of high tension when Calvert’s career and even the future of the Chindits were at stake, but to everyone’s relief Stilwell roared with laughter and agreed that he had the same problem sending signals to Washington. Calvert had hit exactly the right note, and Stilwell showed that he respected a man of mettle like himself. Now he listened while Calvert outlined the achievements of 77 Brigade: the prolonged battles at Broadway and White City, where his brigade fought off far more Japanese forces than those opposing Stilwell. They had completely blocked all the supply routes going north to Stilwell’s front, they had hoped that the Chinese–American force would advance down the railway towards them, and they had captured Mogaung at terrible cost, causing tough commanders to weep at the casualties. Calvert explained their fury at the false claim to the capture of Mogaung and concluded: ‘I am sorry, Sir, if I disobeyed orders but I think you will realize the strain we were under.’
During this conversation Stilwell sat amazed, interjecting with ‘Is this true?’ or ‘Why was I not told that?’ He began to realise how far his staff had concealed the achievements and successes of the Chindits, and he immediately awarded Calvert the American Silver Star. Calvert was strong enough to challenge and enlighten Stilwell, but the American’s anglophobia had seriously affected his staff – with dire consequences for the remaining Chindit unit, Morris Force, which was blocking the road from Bhamo to Myitkyina.
Morris Force
After 111 Brigade landed at Chowringhee under Lentaigne, a battalion-strong group, largely of Gurkhas, was detached and marched swiftly northeast towards the Bhamo–Myitkyina road.
This small force illustrates several key issues that affected the role of the Chindits, the leadership of a unit behind enemy lines and the increasingly sour relations between Stilwell and the British. Morris was a lieutenant colonel, transferred with Lentaigne and against their will to the Chindits. The overall failure of Morris Force raised another question – whether the leadership of a unit behind enemy lines demanded a quality of bravery, initiative and determination which few people had. Calvert clearly had this in abundance, as did some of his colonels who were inspired by his example, but certainly Lentaigne and Morris did not. Terence O’Brien, an RAF liaison officer with Morris Force, described Morris as ‘excessively timid’.* This consideration of the quality of leadership – which applied equally to the units of Merrill’s Marauders – was raised by Charles Carfrae, a column commander in the Nigerian Chindit Brigade. He stated in Chindit Column that when placed behind enemy lines some normally sound and brave officers were ‘reduced to pathetic ineptitude’.* Sadly, Morris proved to be one of these. In Out of the Blue O’Brien made significant comments on the leadership issue. He wrote that Morris’s column was always retreating into the wings, while 94 Column under the spirited and energetic Peter Cane was always rushing into action. Cane showed an admirably robust attitude. His column experienced serious problems of wireless communication from the remote hills where they operated. When he demanded a replacement set he was told by HQ to experiment with the aerial in different positions. He replied, ‘I have experimented with the aerial in every position except one, and that I leave to you .’ The replacement came the next day.
In spite of Morris’s inadequacy, Morris Force all but blocked the Bhamo road from the middle of March onwards. Morris’s poor leadership was illustrated when Cane’s column attacked and destroyed a vital bridge over a gorge. Morris’s column should have attacked and sealed off the other side of the village, but instead it moved off without informing Cane. ‘Many in the force felt that this was a cowardly action.’†
In his book O’Brien vividly recorded Morris’s ineptitude, and also gave evidence of the feelings of the Chindits when they were handed over to Stilwell in the middle of May 1944. They were already aware of the generally hostile view of the British command towards the Chindits, and O’Brien wrote that ‘The enticing solution, one that got rid of us, and might also placate the vitriolic Stilwell, was to hand over the Chindits to him completely and let him give them orders direct, rather than keep snapping at high command with his savage criticism’.‡
On 18 May Morris Force received the dramatic but inaccurate news that Merrill’s Marauders had captured Myitkyina. This caused rejoicing and they assumed, as did Merrill’s Marauders, that they would soon be flown out. They were tragically mistaken. Stilwell’s fiery criticism seemed to unnerve Morris, whose leadership became ever more inept, and he created an atmosphere among his officers of simmering resentment close to mutiny. A significant comment came from Peter Cane in Chinese Chindits. He wrote that the attack on Myitkyina ‘must have been one of the worst managed operations of the whole war, and we had the misfortune to be squandered in its inefficiency. So too were the American troops – Merrill’s Marauders – fine, tough, hard troops who knew what was what and were determined to win it. They too were spent uselessly.’*
Morris Force was to be fully involved in the final approach to Myitkyina, but its role in that will be described as part of the main American-Chinese attack.
Merrill’s Marauders and Myitkyina
By the beginning of May 1944, and after the bitter and costly fight at Nphum Ga, Stilwell’s plan, which had been submitted to the Chiefs of Staff, was clear: to capture the Mogaung–Myitkyina area as soon as possible; to construct all-weather airfields which could be used during the monsoon; and to open the road from Myitkyina to Kunming and link up with the old Burma Road. This link was subsequently called the Stilwell Road. Chiang had at last agreed to send two more Chinese divisions, 14 and 50, so Stilwell now had five divisions and the Marauders to take on the depleted Japanese 18 Division under General Tanaka.
This was the background to Stilwell’s passionate determination to capture Myitkyina before the monsoon started in the middle of May He realised, as his diary entries confirm, that his chances of success depended largely on when the monsoon s
tarted. On the ground he planned for the Chinese 22 Division and part of 38 Division to drive down the Mogaung valley to give Tanaka the impression that this was the main attack. On 22 April a Chinese regiment took over the position at Nphum Ga to release the Marauder units for a brief rest. The Marauders felt that they had done all that was asked of them and more, and there was considerable resentment when they were told that, rather than being flown out, they were to undertake another demanding operation. On 27 April Stilwell gave Merrill the orders for Operation End Run – a reference to his footballing days.
Because of the heavy losses at Nphum Ga and the depredations of dysentery, malaria and scrub typhus, Stilwell decided to strengthen the mam force of the Marauders by the addition of some Chinese units and Kachin Rangers. This brought the total for the dramatic enterprise that was to come to more than 7,000 men, which included some Chinese infantry regiments, artillery batteries and a combat surgical team.
The bitter feelings among the Marauders were not easily assuaged, so Stilwell told Merrill that ‘if everything worked out as expected’ they would be evacuated after the operation to take Myitkyina. This promise and the emphasis on the significance of the attack on Myitkyina gave the Marauders the resolution to carry on and to undertake an operation that was far more gruelling than anything they had previously faced. The main group had to cross the formidable Kumon range, which rose to 7,000 feet.
They set out on 28 April along a little-known trail which Kachin guides and labourers had begun to clear for them. Heavy premonsoon rain had already started, and the hills were so steep that mules slipped and fell over precipices. One unit lost twenty mules in a day, together with all its supplies. The truly ghastly conditions got worse and, with their lowered resistance, nearly 150 men succumbed to scrub typhus. The Marauders had divided into two main groups, and the eastern prong met some stiff Japanese resistance at Ritpong, which was reached on 9 May, and then on 12 May they encountered a defensive post held by a Japanese battalion. Merrill had to keep to the very tight timetable imposed by Stilwell, so after a vicious clash the eastern group bypassed the Japanese position and rejoined the other Marauders. Both sides were in a desperate situation, and, when the Marauders attacked, a Japanese company commander recorded that although he would engage the enemy at any cost, he had no ammunition for the mortars or heavy machine guns, other ammunition was short and rations were practically exhausted. On 13 May Hunter, leading the front unit, then about twenty miles from Myitkyina, had about 400 Americans and nearly 800 Chinese and Kachins, including an artillery battery. Meanwhile Stilwell, who was fanatically guarding the secrecy of the Marauders’ attack even, or especially, from Mountbatten, waited apprehensive and worried.