Kohima Read online

  But if some officers were scared of Grover, the troops never were, and regarded him with great affection. They would talk to him quite freely about pay, leave, amenities, the qualities of the char, and what they would like to do to the man who invented ‘soya links’, the wartime substitute for sausages. Grover would listen to them patiently, and if there was anything he could do, he would do it. In time the troops came to believe that their welfare was his vital concern; and there was nothing they wouldn’t do for him. The relationship was quite remarkable.

  Like Stopford, Grover had served in the First World War, having been commissioned to the King’s Shropshire Light Infantry in December 1914, and earned the M.C., being wounded three times. By 1938 he was commanding the 1st Battalion of his regiment, but later became G.S.O.1 (that is the senior staff officer) to the 5th Division, and in that role saw it over the beaches at Dunkirk. He spent a year as a Brigadier, then in 1941 was appointed to command of the 2nd Division.

  Grover did not attend the Waterproofing Festival. He was in Delhi on this particular date for discussions at G.H.Q. India concerning a recent threat to take 100 men from every unit in the 2nd Division as reinforcements of the 14th Army. This threat had already been the subject of heated correspondence, but realizing that only a personal interview with the G.O.C. nth Army Group, General Sir George Giffard, would produce any results, Grover had pleaded to see him. On the 15th he saw a number of staff officers, but the following day was ushered into Giffard’s office. Here he received the news that three Japanese divisions were crossing the Chindwin, to threaten 4th Corps; and so immediately asked if 2nd Division couldn’t be of some help in this situation. But Giffard shook his head, replying: ‘There’s no chance of employing 2nd Division in the 14th Army area—we couldn’t maintain it there.’ Grover therefore mentioned that his formation had just finished its jungle training, and was about to disperse on leave. ‘Is that in order?’ he asked. Poker-faced, Giffard said: ‘Yes, that’s quite in order.’ So Grover left G.H.Q. and took the train back to 33rd Corps headquarters, where he arrived on the morning of the 19th.

  *

  While Stopford and Grover were thus engaged, Lieut. -General Kotuku Sato, the commander of the Japanese 31st Division, was at his headquarters at Homalin, a town on the River Chindwin. It had been a very busy day. From first light he had been supervising the administrative arrangements for ferrying his Division across the river, from 9 p.m. onwards. Things seemed to be going very smoothly, and the men together with their guns and equipment were moving swiftly towards the embarkation points. The plan was that the division (with the 15th Division on its left flank) should move in three columns. The right-hand or northern column consisted of a battalion of the 13 8th Infantry Regiment, with a battery of the 31st Mountain Artillery Regiment, engineers, signals, and medical attachments; the centre column consisted of an advance guard of the 13 8th Infantry Regiment (that is three battalions, the equivalent to a British Brigade) with a battalion of the 31st Mountain Artillery Regiment; while the main body consisted of the divisional headquarters, the 124th Infantry Regiment, a battalion of the 31st Mountain Artillery Regiment, with engineers, signals, a field hospital and a transport unit. The left-hand or southern column moved under the divisional second-in-command, Major-General Miyazaki, and this included the 58th Infantry Regiment and the remainder of the 31st Mountain Artillery Regiment.

  General Sato at this time was fifty-one years old and he had served in the Japanese Army since December 1913, when he was commissioned 2nd Lieutenant. From 1918–21 he was at the Staff College and the following year returned to regimental duty as a company commander in the 321st Regiment. Later he had a period on the staff of the 7th Division before being posted to the Kumamoto Military School as an instructor. By 1928 he was a Major on the General Staff, but three years later he was promoted to command a battalion in the 18th Infantry Regiment. By 1937 he was a Colonel, and in December 1939 he was a district commander in Manchuria. In December 1942 he took over the 31st Division with the rank of Lieut.-General and the following year moved into Burma. Initially, at least, he wasn’t very pleased about the posting and remarked to a journalist accredited to his Division: ‘I’ve been sent here because Tojo detests me.’ As can readily be seen he was a very highly trained soldier, though his experience of action was somewhat limited. As to character, he has been described as ‘of great courage, of easy manner, of open-hearted nature and inclined to be unconventional’. He has also been called stubborn, one-track-minded, and painfully orthodox. Whatever the truth of this, one fact is quite clear: he knew how to make his division get a move on, and commanded one of the most remarkable advances in military history.

  ‘When we strike, we must be absolutely ready… reaching our objectives with the speed of wildfire….’ The author of this directive was Sato’s superior, Lieut.-General Renya Mutaguchi, commander of the 15th Army. One cannot help wondering if he knew what he was asking, as the country facing Sato’s men was some of the wildest and toughest in the world. Vehicles, even jeeps, were out of the question, and loads were to be carried on mules, oxen, and elephants. The engineering companies could carry no heavy equipment and would have to improvise, making rafts and bridges, and improving the tracks as they went along. Apart from small arms, the regiments were to carry their infantry and anti-tank guns with up to 300 rounds of ammunition for each. There were also seventeen mountain guns to be carried by the ten elephants. The division had been allocated 3,000 horses and 5,000 oxen, the principal task of which was to carry ammunition and rations for the troops. Even so every man was laden with as much rifle ammunition as it was thought he could carry, and food for three weeks. ‘Personal effects,’ Sato had ordered, understandably, ‘must be kept to the minimum.’

  As he watched his men pouring over the Chindwin, Sato must have been proud and confident; at last he was commanding a division in battle; at last a military triumph was within his grasp. Already reports indicated that the British and Indian troops were in headlong retreat before the 33rd and 15th Divisions to the south; and he had a shrewd suspicion that his own division would be well on the way to its objective before the enemy realized what was happening. The objective was only seventy-five miles away as the crow flew, two hundred perhaps on the ground, but he’d be there in fifteen days. And once he’d captured it, he could turn south and slaughter the British as they retreated. The name of his objective was Kohima.

  *

  Lieut.-General Renya Mutaguchi’s headquarters were at Maymyo, some 220 miles Southeast of Homalin, and twenty-five to the east of Mandalay. Visitors during the last few weeks had found him remarkably calm and confident. ‘My officers do all the work,’ he had said to one of them. ‘I just look after the roses.’ This was no doubt an exaggeration, but certainly, once the frantic weeks of planning and conferences are over and a commander has committed his troops, there is a temporary lull, till reports come in and new plans have to be made and new orders drafted. Mutaguchi’s plan for the offensive, which had been arrived at after months of argument with General Kawabe, commander of the Burma Area Army, and Imperial Headquarters in Tokyo, was to attack the British in the Arakan (that is the coastal sector of Burma), then, when they had committed their reserves, to attack their forward base at Imphal. Things had not gone exactly to plan. The British Divisions in the Arakan, attacked on the 5th February, had not retreated as Mutaguchi had imagined they would, but stood and fought, relying on air-drops to replenish their supplies. However, General Slim had committed his reserves, and the moment was now ripe for the main thrust towards Imphal. On the night of the 7th March, Lieut.-General Yanagida’s 33rd Division had attacked from the south towards Tiddim, then, as the 17th Indian Division began retreating, cut the road behind it, and moved in for the kill. And now Yamauchi’s 15th Division, and Sato’s 31st Division were across the Chindwin, making a total of over 100,000 men, all trained, equipped, and burning with a fanatical desire for victory. Though he knew perfectly well the limit of his orders, Mutag
uchi allowed himself dreams of far greater conquest. If the mountain barrier of Assam could be breached, what was to stop his army streaming down into the valleys beyond—to the borders of Bengal? Once he was established there, the possibilities were endless; already the Congress politicians were inflaming the Indian mob, and with a Japanese army sitting on their borders, the whole population would rise, tearing the British Raj to pieces. In one such moment of daydreaming, as he admitted later, Mutaguchi saw himself riding through Delhi on a white charger.

  At this time he was fifty-six years of age and had served in the Japanese Army since 1910. Promotion had come regularly, staff and regimental appointments alternating. As a Major he had been Instructor of Military Science at the Staff College, then in 1936 had commanded the 1st Infantry Regiment during the war with China. From there he went on to the appointment as Chief of Staff 4th Army, with the rank of Major-General, and then left active service to take over as Director of the preparatory course at the Military Academy. In 1940 he was promoted to Lieut.-General and in April 1941 given command of the 18th Regiment which he led in Malaya and Burma. It was here that he made his military reputation, with a spectacular dash for Singapore. According to Colonel Masanobu Tsuji, Chief of Operations and Planning on the 25th Army staff, Mutaguchi was a man of great courage, always up with the forward elements. During the crossing of the Johore Strait he was wounded in the shoulder, but carried on, refusing any suggestions that he should go to the rear. He was a big man by Japanese standards, with what they describe as ‘a ruddy complexion’. He had a strong personality and great powers of command; but he wasn’t afraid of emotion and knew the value of a theatrical gesture. In the days when he was a divisional commander, he would go up to the forward units before an attack to see their colonels. When a staff officer once protested that his presence at this time would cause difficulties, he replied: ‘I must shake hands with them before they die.’ Mutaguchi had an explosive temper; and though he treasured his friends, he never forgot a grudge nor forgave his enemies. There can be no doubt that his staff officers were afraid of him, and sometimes they withheld unpleasant facts, merely telling him what they thought he would like to know. Because of this, he was sometimes unaware of the real situation. Lieut.-Colonel A.J. Barker, who knows him personally, has said: ‘He had followed the star of General Araki as a member of the Kodo-ha—an Imperial Forces group—which held the cause of the Emperor to be higher than the law of the land, and advocated the direct rule of the Son of Heaven.… He was also a member of the Cherry Society—formed in the early 1920s by a group of Army officers who were intensely pro-service, and “anti” the politicians. Sato was a fellow member of the society.’ Barker adds that Mutaguchi tended to see things in black and white, and overcame opposition by steam-roller tactics. Also, he believed passionately in the comradeship of soldiers and accepted that death in battle was the highest honour that could befall a Japanese. Despite his defects and his dreams he was a formidable soldier; and whether his plan was a sound one only time could tell.

  *

  Kohima lies on a saddle connecting two mountain ridges, some 5,000 feet up among the Naga Hills, in central Assam. The name is a corruption of ‘Kew-hi mia’, meaning ‘the men of Kewhi’; a plant found growing on the hillside. It is a beautiful place with great panoramic views; to the south the green mountains roll upwards some 10,000 feet towards Mao Songsang, while to the north-west the ground drops away precipitously into a deep valley, pointing towards Dimapur. To the west the wooded slopes of the Aradura Spur run up towards Mount Pulebadze and Mount Japvo, dark, spectacular peaks which dominate the country for many miles. To the east the land rises, hill after hill, towards Chedema and Jessami, then disappears into a wild untrodden region left bare on the map and marked simply ‘dense mixed jungle’.

  The Naga Hills form the northern sector of the great mountain barrier between Burma and India, which runs down from the Himalayas to the sea. To the south lie the Lushai Hills and below them the Chin Hills. From end to end the barrier is some six hundred miles long and up to two hundred across; it is a very inhospitable region indeed. The ridges, and therefore the valleys and rivers between them, run from north to south, making any lateral movement extremely hazardous and difficult, even in fine weather. But Assam is wet and includes Chara-punge, the wettest place on earth where eight hundred inches of rain have been recorded in a single year. In the monsoon, which lasts from mid-May till early September, the jungle paths sink deep in the mud, and the smallest streams swell quickly into great rivers and cascade towards the south. There is no comfort for man or beast in ‘those hellish jungle-mountains’ as General Slim called them; and the insects are an endless torment. There are sandflies, ticks, mosquitoes, and leeches. The latter crawls up your legs during the night and suck your blood till they become swollen to bursting point. The mosquitoes must be the largest and most persistent in the world; some strains, such as those around Mao, bringing up great septic sores, and anyone whose face has been attacked might well be in the terminal stages of smallpox. Where insects abound, there is always disease; and in Assam one is prey to dengue, scrub typhus, malaria, cholera, scabies, yaws, sprue, and every known form of dysentery. There is also the Naga sore, caused by pulling off leeches, and leaving their heads beneath the flesh. After four to five days a small blister appears which grows steadily till it is five or six inches across, and destroys not only skin but flesh, and even muscles. The stink from this putrefaction is foul in the extreme, and, unless adequate medical care is available, the victim may die. The correct course (as the troops soon learned) is to let the leech have his fill of blood and drop off, or burn it with a cigarette end. In this case no harm is done.

  Climbing the saddle, the Kohima road curves in a half-circle, then for a quarter of a mile runs due east. At the very top, it forms a hair-pin bend, runs on for another half a mile then bends towards the south. Roughly, one might say it traces the outline of the head of a jay, with its pointed beak. In March 1944 the apex of the beak was occupied by the charming bungalow of the Deputy-Commissioner, Charles Pawsey, with its lawn and tennis court, flanked by flowers, rhododendron bushes, and thick copses. Running south from this on a series of hillocks were the club, and a number of army installations, the Field Supply Depot, and the Daily Issue Store. Kohima at this time was a staging post between the railhead at Dimapur, forty-six road-miles to the north-west, and Imphal sixty-five miles to the south, and during the last few years the Army (in its usual fashion) had been steadily expanding its hold. A mile or so to the north on the Merema ridge, and beyond the Naga village, there was the 57th Reinforcement Camp, and on a spur to the west was sited the 53rd Indian General Hospital. There were also such installations as a bakehouse, a transport workshop, and numerous offices. To the Southeast of the D.C.’s bungalow, on a relatively flat stretch of ground, lay the Assam Barracks, the depot for the 3rd Assam Rifles. They were a body of militarized police, who had first come to establish a post at Kohima as long ago as 1877.

  Kohima, and indeed the whole of Assam, has known war since the beginning of recorded history and, most probably, centuries before then. The Koch and Cachan races fought each other without respite for generation after generation, till the beginning of the thirteenth century, when the Ahoms invaded the country, Shan peoples of the great Tai races of Burma. They ruled firmly, if barbarously, for seven hundred years until the British took over in 1825, at the end of the first Burma War. At that time the country was almost entirely without communications, but in 1830 a Mr Bruce prospected the Brahmaputra and Surma Valleys, which form a crescent on the western flank of the country, and started a tea plantation near Sadiya. Soon other tea planters followed and a thriving trade grew up; and further exploration led to the discovery of coal and oil in the jungles. By 1850 steamers had been brought in to ply on the main rivers, then European townships grew up and clubs were built. But if civilization flowed up the rivers, it failed to penetrate the hills; and their inhabitants, the Nagas, still went head hun
ting among rival tribes, and slaughtered intruders. In 1879, a Political Officer called Damant led an expedition against the armed village of Khonoma, but was killed with twenty-five of his men. The remainder of the party fled to Kohima where with the garrison, which numbered about a hundred, with two white women and their children, and some 240 non-combatants, they shut themselves up in two wooded stockades. Soon they were attacked by the Nagas from Khonoma, Jotsoma, and other hostile villages, a force estimated at 6,000 all told. Fortunately, Mr Cawley, of the Civil Police, had been able to send messages to the friendly Nagas at Wokha and to Major Johnstone at Imphal; but before they could send help the enemy attacked with arrows to which burning tow had been attached, while the garrison replied with rifle fire. Some of the Nagas employed the old Red Indian trick of advancing behind a rolling log, one party getting so close that they were able to throw a human head over the stockade walls. As the days passed the state of the garrison became desperate; food was short and water almost exhausted. Fortunately, at the end of the tenth day, when Cawley was considering the possibility of negotiating a surrender, a friendly Naga got into the stockade by night with the news that Major Johnstone and his force were now approaching from Imphal. On the following morning, the 27th October, bugles were heard in the distant hills, and by noon he could be seen advancing along the track by Aradura Spur. The Nagas retired to their fortified villages, and the siege, the first siege of Kohima, was lifted.