Kohima Page 15
All was quiet till 0130 hours and then a rain of mortar bombs and spring grenades came down on ‘C Company of the D.L.I. The company commander, Major ‘Tank’ Waterhouse, ignored it, as he’d been told by his CO. ‘to get a good night’s rest’. However, sleep was impossible, as (to quote his own words) ‘the noise and the shit increased’, so he decided to move forward and see what was happening. His platoon on the forward slope was taking a hammering and losing men fast, as the Japs had each Bren position pinpointed. By now it was light, as several trees had been set on fire, and an ammunition dump hit ‘and the place looked like Blackpool during a firework display’. Lengthening their range, the Japs mixed smoke and high explosives, then came in at the forward platoon in great strength. In the glaring light Waterhouse could see them coming up the hill, shoulder to shoulder, the leading wave wearing respirators and throwing phosphorus grenades. In a roar of small arms fire, great gaps appeared in the ranks, but there were always more men to come up from behind and maintain the momentum of the attack. Inevitably, as the pressure was maintained, they broke through and the position on both flanks became very confused. Frantically, Waterhouse tried to get his company into something resembling a line about ‘C Company headquarters, which he succeeded in doing, and here the enemy was held. Whenever an opportunity offered itself, groups of men would rush forward to carry out a minor advance, but each time this happened the losses were heavy. For the most part, all Waterhouse’s men could do was lie down shoulder to shoulder and keep pouring bullets into the mass confronting them. Unfortunately they were vulnerable to the Jap spring-grenades which kept coming over and exploding among them, and every minute more men were being killed or wounded. But still, by some miracle, they were able to hold on. Below them they could hear the Jap officers and N.C.O.’s shouting at their men, urging them on to yet another assault: General Sato had told them they must capture the position that night and they dared not fail him. So up the hill they went again. Unfortunately Waterhouse had no line communication by now and his gunner O.P. officer had been killed. It therefore took two hours before any D.F. fire could be brought down from the guns. But still the D.L.I, held out. At 1400 hours Waterhouse launched ‘D’ company into a counter-attack on the right flank of the Japs, and as their fire went in the enemy could be heard shouting and screaming. A company commander went along urging them into another attack, but for the moment they seemed to have had enough, and for the first time in nearly three hours there was a lull. Roger Stock, commanding ‘C’ company, and Waterhouse sat back for a moment and had a cigarette. They talked of Teesdale and wondered when on earth they’d see it again… when they’d get some more leave. Then the screaming started from down the hill and the Japs came on again for a last effort. Roger Stock went back to his company and a few minutes later was killed. It was getting lighter now and the battle died down again, but the Japs were obviously determined to hold every inch they had gained. ‘Tank’ Waterhouse went across to the commanding officer to tell him what had happened, and it was decided that a platoon of ‘A’ company should go in at five o’clock to restore the situation. Led by the company commander, Captain Sean Kelly, the men fixed bayonets, crawled forward to an agreed position, then charged with great dash and spirit. The scene that followed was macabre, horrific:
‘Lying on top of each other all over the hilltop were the bodies of friend and foe, all intermingled, and half of them had been set alight by the spreading blaze of the ammunition dump which in the darkness ht up the whole grisly scene. The platoon commander and his sergeant were wounded right at the start; but the platoon went forward amid a welter of fire and grenades and began to clear the Japs from what were originally “C” company’s trenches. One section set about them with Sten guns and grenades.’
A diminutive Scot called McLellan, carrying a Bren gun, fell bottom first into a foxhole and stuck there, his arms and feet pointing skywards. Swearing horribly, he saw the company commander come past and demanded to be pulled out. When this was done he immediately reloaded his gun and went back into the fight. Every moment it got lighter and the Japs on Kuki Piquet now came into action and began pouring down machine-gun fire. Captain Kelly, who had been hit in the shoulder, went back to order another platoon into action, commanded by a subaltern called Stockton. He showed them the ground and laid on covering fire, then Stockton led his men into action. But the volume of fire coming off Kuki Piquet rendered the whole situation untenable; Stockton was killed and so were his batman, his sergeant, and two section leaders. His right-hand section ceased to exist. There was nothing for it but to withdraw the remnants of the company back up the hill, where they occupied a position already in existence. This consisted mostly of dug-outs without fire-slits and the men worked energetically to improve things. While they dug, two volunteers called Wood and Ward lay out in front, putting down covering fire. This made things a little more comfortable, but as Kelly remembers: ‘It was difficult to stop the snipers. Every now and then there would be a crack and nearly always a groan or cry for help and the stretcher-bearers would rush forward and kneel where the man had been hit, dress him, and carry him off. What cold-blooded courage! It’s nothing to charge in hot blood, but to kneel and do your job where a man has just been hit, and where you must be hit too, if another comes, is the bravest thing I know.’ Altogether, it had been a savage night’s fighting for the Durham Light Infantry. Out of fifteen officers in the three forward companies only five remained; and ‘A’ company alone lost seventy-six men. ‘D’ and ‘C companies fared little better.
Though heavily attacked, the Royal Berkshires had an easier time. Through the light of the phosphorus bombs they obtained a good view of Fukunaga’s men as the latter advanced past the D.C.’s bungalow and, holding their fire till the last moment, decimated them. Not a single post was overrun. At daybreak, Sergeant Kemble was amazed to find two platoons of Japs putting scaling ladders up the steep banks on the near side of the road. Quietly warning his men, Kemble waited till the Japs were on the ladders then poured fire into them. Not a man escaped.
Later that morning Sato was informed that, apart from gaining a few yards of ground at the southern end of the perimeter, his men had achieved nothing. He was also informed that out of seven companies taking part in the attack the equivalent of four had been slaughtered. It may be that this was the moment when he decided that, if he were to obey Mutaguchi’s orders and send a third of his strength to Imphal, he never would take his objective.
The resolute defence of the Durham Light Infantry had another important effect on the tactical development of the battle. According to Japanese accounts, it was Miyazaki who broke the bad news to his Divisional commander. Sato took it calmly, remarking: ‘Major Shimanoe has lost almost two companies? That’s a great blow for him…. But don’t let this reverse discourage you, Miyazaki. If the troops can hold the positions they have gained tonight, we may still get Garrison Hill tomorrow.’ When Miyazaki reacted pessimistically to this suggestion, and asked what had happened to the companies of Colonel Torikai’s 13 8th Regiment at Khabvuma, Sato replied: ‘I’ll try and get in touch with them.… Meanwhile, don’t worry too much about Garrison Hill. Our main task is to make sure that the road remains cut, and no enemy troops go down it to Imphal.’2
From this date, the 23rd April, Japanese attacks dwindled in scale and increasingly they concentrated on their defensive role. The tactical importance of this development can only be realized when it is viewed in conjunction with events at Imphal. Here, on the 19th April, that is four days earlier, the 15th Division had broken off its attacks on the northern end of the perimeter and dug in. Mutaguchi was evidently awaiting the arrival of Miyazaki and his regimental group from Kohima before resuming the offensive. The vital question now—both for Kohima and Imphal—was, therefore: would Sato obey Mutaguchi’s order?
Grover was getting increasingly worried about the high ground a mile to the south-west of the main Kohima position running up towards the foothills of Mount Pulebadze
, where the Japs were increasingly active. This was known at the time as Pimple Ridge. He therefore decided that what was needed was an artillery O.P. right on top of the mountain. On the 23rd he had sent Henry Conder, second-in-command of the Royal Norfolk, to go up on to the hill above Pimple Ridge and have a look. Unfortunately, the Naga guides took Conder over an open route; they first saw signs of Jap occupation and then bumped a patrol. A Naga was shot in the leg and the whole party came downhill in record time. It was obvious that any operations between Mount Pulebadze and the road would need a great deal of preparation, and for the moment the O.P. was impossible.
Another project of Grover’s turned out disappointing; on the 24th April, Colonel Garwood, the C.R.E., reported that the business of bulldozing a tank track up I.G.H. Spur would take eight hours, and a working party of 100. This, Grover thought, condemned the whole idea, as the bulldozer would attract sniping and mortar fire and the working party would be shot to pieces. Another way must be found.
The only good news came from 5th Brigade, in the form of a message from Victor Hawkins, to say that he was firmly established below the road near Merema. He asked if he should make a frontal attack on the Jap position facing him, or by-pass it, and press on towards Kohima. Grover ordered him to do the latter and establish a road block about a mile north of Naga Village. This would obviously be a complicated operation, unorthodox and dangerous too; but Hawkins made no complaint and set in hand the necessary reconnaissances.
But meanwhile, till air-drops could be organized, his brigade was out on a limb and almost at the end of its rations. Hawkins had, however, made a plan for the use of coolies, with Lieut.-Colonel Simpson, the A.Q. at Divisional Headquarters, and the latter asked Eric Lambert to produce 250 Nagas for the morning of the 24th. They were to leave Zubza at 1030 hours, and (so it was hoped) arrive at the Brigade position on Merema Ridge four hours later. In theory, the arrangement seemed good and simple; but like most things in this campaign it required a good deal of improvisation. The staff captain, 5th Brigade, noted:
‘I’d waited from 1030 hours till 1115 with two trucks full of light scale rations, and four grinning Nagas beside me. I looked at them and they looked at me… and I wondered what the hell the Brigadier would say when the brigade went hungry. Then, hearing some chattering behind me, I turned to see Nagas tumbling off the bonnets of jeeps, leaping out of trucks, degorging from ambulances and any vehicle that would give them a lift. And in the distance a colourful stream was flowing down the road towards me. This was better; but where was the interpreter? From a Dodge 15-cwt. jumped a smart-looking gentleman in khaki shorts and a red sweater. “Good morning,” he said. “I am Mr Kevichusa. I will get the coolies organized for you.” I thanked him politely, but doubted if the Lord himself could bring order from this chaos. But Mr Kevichusa had faith; he also had some sturdy lieutenants. These gentry flung themselves bodily into the mob with a reckless abandon, uttering angry words in an ugly language. They pushed some men here, pulled others there, whispered sweetly to one, and roared at another. Slowly the crowd began to move in a confused pattern, rather like a Sir Roger de Coverley gone wrong. Five minutes went by… The lieutenants were now producing notebooks and making entries with short grimy stubs of pencil, and I began wondering whether they were writing up the show for the local paper. Then a pattern began to emerge. Each group of Nagas—they were in groups now, some even formed into ranks—was numbered, and more entries were made in the notebooks. The lieutenants reported to Mr Kevichusa who then reported to me that there were 220 coolies. Then he added: “What is the load, please?” “Two tins per coolie,” I said firmly. “They weigh about 23 lbs. each.” More shouting as the lieutenants spread the bad news, then a deadly hush, or at least a roar pianissimo. After a few seconds a single Naga stepped forward, grabbed two tins, and attempted to tie his lash round them. It wouldn’t go. So he wriggled it, retied it, and this time it did. Next came the problem of adjusting the flat band to fit against his forehead, and there was no shortage of advice as to how this should be done. The village groups had now merged into one swarming mass and the Naga and the tins had disappeared completely. Sorrowfully I found myself thinking that this wasn’t war; that if this was the best system the Division had to supply its troops, once off the roads, it had better pack up and go home. But then there was a moment’s silence, after which the crowd parted and the Naga came towards me with the tins on his back, uttering a loud cry of triumph. This did it. The remaining 219 Nagas grabbed their loads and began moving forward. Quickly I pushed the armed escort into position, pulled the guides from their char mugs, and the whole column was on the move. Later, Brigade came on happily to say that the Nagas had reached them in two hours instead of the estimated four. I was amazed and relieved.’
The work of the Nagas in the earlier stages of the campaign has already been touched on, but it may be profitable to mention here the arrangements made between Grover and Eric Lambert of the Indian Police. Though willing to continue their Intelligence activities, the Nagas were naturally worried about the fate of their villages, and Grover undertook that these would not be shelled or bombed except by prior arrangement with Lambert, for example when it was believed that the Japanese were in them. In return, the Nagas undertook to provide 300 levies from Kohima which would provide escorts for patrols, and also harass the enemy. (Some shotguns had already been issued which didn’t impress them at all, and they requested rifles.) Though the Nagas didn’t ask for payment for any work they undertook, Grover insisted that they should be paid. He also laid on a canteen so that they could have a cup of tea and something to eat on return from their missions. As he put it: ‘All the troops are filled with admiration for these stout-hearted, cheery hill men…. They are doing us so very proud that I feel we must at least show our gratitude.…’ As the battle went on, the Nagas added another field to their activities: the evacuation of the wounded down the slippery hills, a job they carried out with great endurance and courage. If it weren’t for them, hundreds of men must have died; no European could possibly have taken stretchers over that country. All the troops knew, when they first encountered the Nagas, was that they were head-hunters, who had been forcibly restrained from this practice by the Indian Government. But soon they were struck not only by their cheeriness and eagerness to help but by their intelligence. Most officers have to be trained to ‘read’ air photos, but when Grover showed a set to some Nagas they understood them immediately, exclaiming: ‘Yes, d’you see—that’s our village.’
It is doubtful, however, if the Nagas would have undertaken any of this difficult and dangerous work if it had not been for the extraordinary character of Charles Pawsey, the Deputy-Commissioner of Kohima. A rather quiet, modest man, he had a burning sincerity and a selfless love of the people whom fate had decided he should serve. He was just, incorruptible, but at the same time merciful and with limitless understanding. The Nagas were his children and regarded him as their father. They trusted him completely; they knew that in no circumstances whatsoever would his word be broken. When the Japanese invaded Burma and the Nagas found themselves in the front line, they looked to Pawsey for their salvation; and knew that he would fight for them to the limit of his powers. So, when Mutaguchi’s thrust against Kohima began, the Nagas remained loyal to the British cause, despite the loss of their homes and territory, despite danger and death. Among the records of the 58th Japanese Regiment several stories have come to light showing how staunch these hillmen were. In the initial stages of the campaign, when the Japanese were willing to pay for food, the Nagas would lure their men in ones and twos to lonely places up the hillside and kill them. The result was that the Japanese had to send larger and larger bodies of troops out foraging, which meant that their positions were correspondingly weakened. Altogether, the part played by Charles Pawsey, both directly through his courage and indirectly through his influence on the Nagas, was an important one. It should never be forgotten.
But to return to the main story: at 1245 h
ours on the 24th April, Stopford came forward to see Grover and urge him to set things moving as soon as possible. There was now no question of letting the central position in Kohima go, which meant that 6th Brigade would be increasingly tied up there and so unavailable for movement. Also the Dorsets were to go in to reinforce the troops there. 5th Brigade, however, were ordered to advance south on Kohima as fast as possible: and it was agreed that the Royal Scots, the Royal Norfolk, with 143rd S.S. Company, should do a right hook round the back of Pulebadze, and cut the Imphal Road below the Aradura Ridge, some two miles to the south of Kohima.
The disadvantages of such a manœuvre were immediately obvious. The country was wild and mountainous, and the altitude was considerable, Pulebadze running up to 7,522 feet. The slopes were steep, the gulleys were wide, and the jungle, or such of it as had been explored, was very thick. The Nagas were very sceptical about the whole operation and said that, should the rains come on, even they couldn’t get over the ground. Nevertheless, they offered to accompany the column as porters, and pressed some of their womenfolk into service to make up the numbers. It was obvious, however, that the Nagas could not carry sufficient supplies to maintain the column for four days, the time it was estimated the hook would take, and Grover hoped to deliver the remainder of the supplies by air-drop.
The great advantage of the move was surprise. The Japs were obviously ready for a shallow hook, that is one between the mountain and the road, but long conferences with the Nagas and patrol reports convinced Grover that the country west of the mountain was clear of the enemy, and the wide hook would solve his problems on this flank. Also, if he could establish 4th Brigade beyond Kohima, there was a good chance that the Japs might start pulling back.
Tactically speaking, the hook obviously meant the final demolition of Grover’s plan to put two brigades round the left flank; it also meant the wide dispersal of his Division. But the plan had been eroded already, 6th Brigade being tied up in Kohima itself, and supply problems limiting any reinforcement of the left flank. Also, the sole reserve now consisted of a weakened 161st Brigade. However, the orders were: Get on… get on! So there was nothing for it but to launch the 4th Brigade column just as soon as possible.