by David Rooney
After the Marauders left Nphum Ga, Stilwell continued to drive forward the main force of 38 and 22 Divisions. He deliberately took the divisional commanders forward to the front-line battle-command posts, but this rarely resulted in the action he hoped for. After one visit he wrote, ‘Sun went back. Too much for him.’ He frequently went to the front himself to cause the commanders loss of face and shame them into action.
After months of haggling over the advance of Yoke Force, which enjoyed overwhelming numbers against one weakened Japanese division, he merely recorded on 12 May: ‘Yoke jumped off yesterday Maybe.’ This comment came at a time when Stilwell had clear evidence that Chiang was interfering yet again and warning Sun and Liao – the commanders of 38 and 22 Divisions – not to advance too quickly.
During May 1944 Stilwell, who confessed that he was a worrier, came under pressure from all sides, but he worried particularly about the Marauders’ dash for Myitkyina. He wrote, ‘Probably we are getting a bit jumpy.’ Then on 8 May: ‘Shoved off at 11.30. Picked up Sun at 38th command post and went into 113th [Regiment]. Hot. 1.30 to 3.30 hike up to 114 Regt. Command post. Damned near killed me. All out of shape. No wind. No legs. Swore off smoking there and then. Felt like an old man when I staggered in.’ His recurring concern about the Marauders appears in his diary. ‘I start them off for Myitkyina. It rains. The resistance grows here. Why didn’t I use them on our front? Is the gap too big? Will they meet a reinforced garrison at Myitkyina? Does it mean we’ll fail on both sides instead of one? Can I get them out? … The die is cast and it’s sink or swim. But the nervous wear and tear is terrible. Pity the poor commanding officer.’ This anguish explains to some extent his incandescent rage when the Chindits appeared not to do all he asked of them.
He had made detailed plans for the Marauders as they approached Myitkyina. They were to keep radio silence until they were close to their target. Then, forty-eight hours before the estimated time of attack, the signal ‘Cafeteria Lunch’ would alert the air supply system to be ready to fly in reinforcements and supplies. At twenty-four hours ‘Strawberry Sundae’ would warn the supply depot to be ready with a five-day supply of food and ammunition. When the attack was about to go in the Marauders would signal ‘In the Ring’, and finally ‘Merchant of Venice’ would signal that they had secured the airfield and aircraft could land.
On the night of 16 May the advance column, led by Hunter, reached the area of the airstrip west of the town and prepared to bivouac for the night in absolute silence and with no fires. To be absolutely certain about security, all civilians in the immediate locality were rounded up for the night. Kachin intelligence suggested that the Japanese had two understrength battalions in the town and about one hundred men at the airstrip. It appeared that although the Marauders had been involved in some fierce clashes on the way, the Japanese had not linked these to an attack on Myitkyina and complete surprise had been achieved.
Back in his HQ Stilwell was recording every signal, and his excitement can be imagined. Merrill’s Marauders were about to attack Myitkyina, they had carried out his plans to the letter, and soon he would be able to show the Limeys and all his critics in Chungking, in SEAC and elsewhere that he had succeeded in the project which he had pursued doggedly against every setback and disappointment. His exultation is understandable.
* Michael Calvert, Prisoners of Hope, Cape, London, 1952, and Fighting Mad, Bantam, London, 1964.
* Romanus and Sunderland, Stilwell’s Command Problems, p. 221.
† Shelford Bidwell, The Chindit War, Hodder, London, 1979, p. 206.
* John Masters, The Road past Mandalay, Michael Joseph, London, 1961, p. 219.
† David Rooney, Wingate and the Chindits: Redressing the Balance, Arms & Armour Press, London, 1994, p. 139.
‡ Allen, Burma: The Longest War, p. 358.
* Masters, The Road Past Mandalay, p. 243.
† Rooney, Wingate and the Chindits, p. 143.
* Romanus and Sunderland, Stilwell’s Command Problems, p. 221.
† Allen, Burma: The Longest War, p. 362.
* David Rooney, Mad Mike, Leo Cooper, London, 1997, p. 105.
† Romanus and Sunderland, Stilwell’s Command Problems, p. 121.
‡ Tuchman, Sand against the Wind, p. 453.
* Rooney, Mad Mike, p. 108.
* Terence O’Brien, Out of the Blue, Collins, London, 1984, p. 35.
* Charles Carfrae, Chindit Column, Kimber, London, 1985.
† Rooney, Wingate and the Chindits, p. 150.
‡ O’Brien, Out of the Blue, p. 217.
* Peter Cane, Chinese Chindits, privately published, 1948, p. 37. Caries cheerfully robust attitude lasted all his life. After a career with the Gurkhas and the Chindits he served with an oil company in the Middle East. On retiring he took holy orders. When, as a new vicar, he was summoned to see the Bishop of Winchester, he told him, ‘If I was God, you would be my sales manager and I would sack you.’ (Conversation with the author.)
CHAPTER 12
The Battle for Myitkyina
On 17 May, from his damp bivouac, Hunter prepared for the attack on the airfield. The Japanese seemed totally unaware of the presence of the Marauders, who gained complete surprise. The Chinese 150 Regiment attacked and captured the airstrip, while an American battalion captured Paniati, a village on the River Irrawaddy just west of the airstrip. Against little opposition another American battalion advanced south to Zigyin, where there was a ferry over the river.
At 1030 hours Hunter signalled ‘In the Ring’, and then at 1330 the joyful message ‘Merchant of Venice’, signalling that the airstrip was clear and safe for food, ammunition and reinforcements to be flown in. Until then there had been less Japanese opposition than Hunter expected, and he had only sparse and vague information about the numbers of defenders. The town of Myitkyina was, in fact, held by two weakened Japanese battalions and some labour units amounting to fewer than 700 men. This sounds like a trivial force, but it should be remembered that a few weeks before an understrength battalion of the Royal West Kents at Kohima had held up the whole of Sato’s 31 Division.
Back in his HQ, Stilwell waited in a state of almost unbearable excitement. To his relief it was a clear day, and he noted the times when he received the crucial signals. First, he had the message ‘In the Ring’, but then at noon a reconnaissance plane flew over the airstrip and could see nothing. Finally, at 1330 hours the signal ‘Merchant of Venice’ arrived (odd of Stilwell in his moment of triumph to choose the title of a play by a Limey dramatist!). His diary continues:
About 1330 we got ‘Merchant of Venice’. Transports can land WHOOPS. Enormous relief to get Merrill’s report. At once ordered machinery and reinforcements started. About 3.30 two transports landed. At 4 saw transports and gliders going over. Thereafter a stream of planes both ways. Told them to keep going all night. We may have 89th (Chinese) Regiment in by morning. WILL THIS BURN UP THE LIMEYS.
Stilwell was determined to have the maximum publicity for his great coup, and on the following day he flew in to the airstrip with twelve war correspondents. It was proclaimed to the world that Myitkyina had fallen, but this was inaccurate. The airstrip had been taken, but from the moment of that brilliant success almost everything went wrong, and Myitkyina town would not be captured until the beginning of August. On 17 May Hunter and the commanders on the ground were disappointed at the pace and allocation of reinforcements. Engineers, an anti-aircraft battery and a Chinese battalion were flown in that day. Initial confusion was caused because General Stratemeyer, the air commander for the theatre, changed the reinforcement schedules with disastrous results. He sent in more antiaircraft batteries instead of infantry units, which might have made a quick and successful attack on the town.
Despite the difficulties and bitter frustrations which were to come, Stilwell was justifiably exultant at the success of the strike against Myitkyina. He had been told time and again by the British, the Americans and the Chinese that it could not be done,
but he had done it, and supplies were already coming in. The coup caused amazement in London and Washington, where the strategic planners were still dithering over a final decision on Burma. Surprise was total because Stilwell, knowing the very poor Chinese security, had not divulged his plan even to his divisional commanders. He had in fact told Slim but had sworn him to secrecy.
The complete secrecy did cause some problems at the start. Units from three Chinese divisions were the first to fly in, and there was little time to brief them. On the evening of 17 May two Chinese battalions set out to attack the town but lost their way and reached a village, Sitapur, just north of Myitkyina. There, because of muddled and chaotic orders, instead of attacking the Japanese they had a damaging engagement with each other. All the Chinese units soon reverted to Chiang’s advice not to advance too quickly.
On 18 May Merrill, who had returned to duty, flew in to Myitkyina and reorganised the units, leaving Hunter in command of the main Marauder force on the ground. Stilwell too flew in to assess the chances of a successful attack on the town. That day provided some ominous signs of the problems which lay ahead. The Chinese units that had fought each other on 17 May were sent off again and, almost unbelievably, ended up fighting each other for a second time, inflicting heavy casualties. In this fraught situation Merrill suffered another heart attack, and then the next day the Chinese units made a third attempt to take the town. They reached the railway yards on the north side but, significantly, the Japanese were able to call up strong defensive units and drove them out.
Stilwell’s brief comments during these critical days illuminate his anxiety and tension. On 18 May he wrote: ‘Not much sleep. Ants and worry.’ After his brief visit with the war correspondents he flew back to his HQ in Shadazup, where he recorded that flocks of visitors were arriving. Here Sun, commander of 38 Division, suggested a plan to take Kamaing. ‘I kidded him along and then agreed. Anything to get 38 Div moving. If we get to Kamaing we can tell the Limeys to go to hell.’ On 20 May he wrote, ‘Japs backed into bazaar section. Resistance now localised, and we are reasonably sure of the place. Japs apparently all in confusion and trying to pull out. Chinese casualties heavy.’ This was a serious misreading of the situation because the Japanese were in fact pouring troops into Myitkyina and building up the defences far more quickly than the Americans and Chinese could mount attacks. On 21 May he wrote: ‘BAD NEWS. Panic in 150th Regiment; they ran away and had to be taken out. What goes on at Mitch [Myitkyina]? A bad day mentally. Good deal of strain and worry – if the troops are undependable where are we? I’m looking forward to a full stop in this business. Wish it would pour right now’ Next day came ‘BLACK MONDAY. Bad news from Mitch.’ More than one thousand Japanese were observed hurrying in to man the defences of the town, and the situation was critical. He sensed a general air of discouragement, which worried him more. He anguished over whether to bring in some of the road engineers to replace the Marauders and considered changing the Chinese units. ‘If the goddam rain will only let us use the field for a few days. If we can’t land planes, can’t land troops. This is one of those terrible worry days when you wish you were dead. 10.00 pm still raining heavily.’
During this anxious time an undated note gives an indication of his mental torment. He considered the notion that a coward dies a thousand deaths and the valiant but one, though he added that the valiant who dies but once must be an unimaginative clod:
Enough will power to dismiss from his mind all the possibilities of trouble and disaster that may occur. That would take balance that I know I could never attain … I think of situations quite needlessly that turn my guts to water. Is it the same thing that makes me worry about covering the flanks, about checking on location of units, delivery of orders, execution of movements, arrival of supplies, etc, etc?
Strangely enough, I do not worry about my own lot. It never occurs to me that my plane will crash or that the next bomb may have my name on it … I know how Win [his wife] would explain it, but if so, why isn’t everyone taken care of?
The situation in Myitkyina rapidly became static, developing into a battle of slit trenches, mortars and machine-gun fire. By the end of May the Japanese defenders had built up their forces more quickly than the attackers and had over 2,500 troops in the town, including a full-strength battalion and General Mizukami from 56 Division. He came in to co-ordinate all the defences and set up a ferry over the Irrawaddy river east of the town. On the American side Colonel McCammon, in charge on the ground after Merrill’s second heart attack, ordered attacks by two Chinese regiments, but they were beaten off.
The decision by Stilwell which almost from the start created the dire situation at Myitkyina should now be assessed. He had focused so much on the Marauders’ drive to Myitkyina that he clearly had not planned the follow-up attack on the town. When the airfield fell on 17 May he had to make the vital decision. The tried and experienced British 36 Division was available in northern Burma, was trained for flight operations and could have flown in almost immediately. One American description of Stilwell’s decision suggested ‘that he wanted to keep an American flavour in the fight’. A modern historian, Nathan Prefer, stated, generously, that Stilwell considered using 36 Division ‘but discarded that idea in the interest of national pride’.* That is too generous. It was Stilwell’s paranoia about Myitkyina that coloured the decision. It was not national pride but his own pride and his anglophobia which dictated it. He was not going to see his great prize captured by any Limey unit. This disgraceful decision led to eleven weeks of vicious fighting and countless deaths.
On 30 May Stilwell flew back in and appointed Boatner in place of McCammon. Boatner, whose experience had been largely deskbound staff work, was not an inspiring leader and he had already made serious blunders, which caused a bitter dispute with General Sun. Boatner faced a crisis. The Japanese had brought up artillery and mortars and were able to bombard the airstrip, causing planes to crash and further curtailing its use. The acute shortage of infantry was made good by bringing in two battalions of road engineers, some of whom had to be instructed in the use of the rifle as they were flown in. Boatner wrote: ‘They are in many cases simply terrified of the Japs – they would not follow their officers, refused to attack, and ran under fire.’ Stilwell’s diary records, ‘Terrible letter from Boatner. U.S. troops shaky. Hard to believe.’
The shortage of infantry soldiers was so acute that, on Stilwell’s orders, base hospitals in India were combed for convalescent Marauders who were flown straight to Myitkyina. This appalling decision compounded the damage caused by his refusal to use 36 Division. Prefer wrote that ‘This incident gave rise to an accusation that tarnished the General’s reputation permanently’.† One Marauder officer recorded that by this time Stilwell’s name was like a red rag to a bull: ‘Stilwell seemed bloodless, utterly cold hearted, without a drop of human kindness.’ In another report a Marauder, describing a visit from Stilwell, said: ‘I had him in my rifle sights. I coulda squeezed one off and no one woulda known it wasn’t a Jap that got the son of a bitch.’‡ By the beginning of June the Marauders had lost ninety killed but 2,000 from sickness and exhaustion. Men suffering from malaria or dysentery had to have a temperature of 102° for three days before they were allowed to go sick. In many parts of Myitkyina it was difficult to hold their positions and the initiative clearly lay with the Japanese.
Stilwell’s paranoia and Boatner’s inadequacy are illustrated from a different angle in their relationship with the Chindit Morris Force, which had virtually closed off the Bhamo to Myitkyina road after flying in to Indaw on 6 March. Boatner seemed to reflect all the worst traits of Stilwell himself. Although he had a preponderance of force, he scattered his units over the area with little plan or method, no concentration of force and no co-ordination. Every few days he would order new attacks, to be carried out at all costs, and the Chindit casualties grew alarmingly. When ordered to attack yet another carefully defended Japanese position Morris went to Boatner, explaine
d the reduced numbers in his force and their pitiful physical condition and asked for artillery or air support. Boatner replied, ‘All you lack is courage.’ Peter Cane, describing this incident in Chinese Chindits, wrote that ‘This monstrous remark caused great indignation’. Another comment recorded at the time throws light on Stilwell’s original decision. When Morris offered to take part in an attack on Myitkyina he was told that only the Chinese would be allowed to capture the town. Morris himself was weak and tended to pass on Boatner’s orders. These frequently demanded an attack with no time for reconnaissance or preparation. In one such attack the Chindits lost twenty-two men killed including Colonel Monteith, a brave and experienced leader who had said only the previous day: ‘Boatner will kill us all off before he is finished.’
The desperate effort to bring more fighting troops to Myitkyina went on through June and July. One officer who took part in this operation, named New Galahad, described how men were taken off a troopship and flown directly to Myitkyina, leaving no time for infantry training. The men did not even know their own officers. Within days of taking over Boatner ordered an attack by two Chinese regiments. The attack, for which there was no time to prepare, cost 300 casualties. A week later another joint attack by the Chinese and the Marauders failed to take its objective and the attackers were then barely able to hold the Japanese counterattack.