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This page has been
created in an effort to share the abundance of interesting stories
and facts about the Burma and the Japanese invasion of Burma in the 40's. Burma
borders
Assam and at the time of the invasion of Burma there were many stories of great heroism by
people of
different backgrounds and races.
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#Kohima Town Remembers
#WS Journal-Myanmar
#Over the Hump
Stillwell
Road**
#Indian Railway stories 20's, 30's and 40's
#Wartime Courage by Gordon Brown
#How we won the war in Burma
- Errol Flynn and me
#WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO MY ROCKING HORSE
#The
Burma Trek 1942 Pt1
#The Burma
Trek 1942 Pt2
#The Burma
Trek 1942 Pt3
#Brigadier General
Robert Scott
#Major
" Trof"Tropimov MC
#Stephen returns to Burma after 60 years
#Gathering at Teashops
#The
Stillwell/Ledo Road
#Aussie Dekho
#Tributes Paid to WWll Martyrs
#Historic Stillwell Road to reopen
#Through the Jungle of Death
#Nominal Roll
#Forgotten Frontier
#Stillwell Road
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July 28 2009
This brochure from Kohima
mentions a Church where prayers are said for the soldiers,
from both sides, who fell in the Battle of Kohima---we
must salute the Brave Nagas.
This leaflet has been
forwarded to the Editor by Ali Zaman and we thank him
As the leaflets are
large a change in presentation has been made using PDF which
allows you to Zoom in to read it in comfort
Click here to see the front of
the leaflet
Click
here to see the back of the leaflet
Wonderful memories for
the Fallen
**********************************
January
25 2009
The Wall Street Journal the Premier
Newspaper in the USA printed
this fascinating and informative story story about Burma
(Myanmar)





On the right hand side of the page was a
long column which I have divided into four parts to make
reading easier --I hope
Return to
top
October
21 2008
This poem was sent in by Larry
Brown and we
thank him. It is a fascinating read --enjoy
OVER THE HUMP
Created and signed by -2nd
Lt. J. D. Broughel--
1st Transport Group--13th Transport Squadron--U. S. Army-----July 25
to 27, 1943
OH! History’s
page through every age
Tells of men who accomplish things,
But few there are shine a brighter star
Than those of whom this bard sings.
I’ve flown up
and down the airways
From Hartford to Cooch-Behar
And have flown on instruments hours on end
With a line on a single star.
Up where the
oxygens needed;
Down where it’s gusty and rough;
When the radio compass is bouncin’ around
And the going is really tough;
I’ve flown from Natal to Ascension
When the scum wasn’t drained from the sumps,
But it’s nothin’ compared to the thrills ya get
In a ship flying “Over the Hump”.
Half round the
world from home and Nell
Living in Bamboo Huts
(“Bashas they call ‘em”), the heat and bugs
And the damp almost drive you nuts.
To the boys in
the 13th Squadron
It’s like saying your ABC’s,
Cross the Hump to the Lake and Mt. Tali,
Then over to Yunnanyi.
We take off from down by Doom Doom,
At a place called Sookerating,
With twenty-five drums of gasoline
To go over the Hump to Kunming.
First there’s
the Fort Hertz Valley
And before the Taung Pit, which is green,
We cross the Yellow Mali,
Then the third, the dark brown Salween.
We’re getting
to eighteen thousand,
And the engines are singin’ a song
As the fourth, a red river, slips by below;
The Lantsang Kiang, or Mekong.
Across the grim
Himalayas
There’s a million rock peaks,
And you’re sweatin’ at twenty thousand
If the engine as much as squeaks;
For there’s no
landin’ up in the mountains,
And those Japs are at Sumpra Bum,
And those widow-makers crowd on ya
Like tenenment homes in a slum.
In the best of
weather the hazards
‘Twould take a year to tell,
But on instruments up in the “Soup” and ice
The going is really hell!
Rocky and evil
and awful,
So you’re scared if you have to jump:
Crossing the ocean is easy
Alongside of flying the “Hump”!.
And what if
you’re downed in the mountains
With thousands of rocky defiles?
If the tigers and Cobras don’t get you
A days work will net you three miles;
And what if you
get to a river?
A raft gets you down to the Japs!
And you know that Home or for flying again
For the duration (At Least) it is “Taps”!
Did you say that
you had met Bushey?
Well, in case you didn’t know,
He went down on his first trip over,
A week and a half ago;
Looking? Hell,
No! They’re not looking!
Combing those rocky shelves?
A Hundred Years wouldn’t be enough time!
They’ll have to “Walk Out” by themselves.
Over the PanShan
we’re still going great;
To the South lies the town of Yangpi,
And we hit the South end of Lake Tali,
And then on to Yunnanyi.
Now there’s
many a cumulonimbus
That’s turned a hair gray in my head,
And too many times have I trembled
When I thought the right Engine went Dead;
Cross the Veldt
up in Tanganyika
Each foot brings A “Rockier” Bump,
But it’s nothing compared to the Ride you get
With the boys flying “Over The Hump”!
It’s great to
hold the controls
On that Giant Man-Made Bird ---
Pratt and Whitneys singing the sweetest
Concerto you’ve ever heard ----
For your Heart
must be in your flying,
And you swell with Instrinsic Pride;
(You see, I’m a Navigator And I just go along for the ride!).
Most of the danger is over,
And we feel
pretty safe with our load
When we “Spot” that old Ribbon of Freedom
That’s know as the Burma Road.
“Oil for the Lamps of China”
Was it the Poet
said?
Oil and gas for American Boys!
They need it like Butter needs Bread!
Looking? Hell, No! They’re not looking!
Combing those
rocky shelves?
A Hundred Years wouldn’t be enough time!
They’ll have to “Walk Out” by themselves.
Over the PanShan we’re still going great;
To the South
lies the town of Yangpi,
And we hit the South end of Lake Tali,
And then on to Yunnanyi.
Now there’s many a cumulonimbus
That’s turned
a hair gray in my head,
And too many times have I trembled
When I thought the right Engine went Dead;
Cross the Veldt up in Tanganyika
Each foot brings
A “Rockier” Bump,
But it’s nothing compared to the Ride you get
With the boys flying “Over The Hump”!
It’s great to hold the controls
On that Giant
Man-Made Bird ---
Pratt and Whitneys singing the sweetest
Concerto you’ve ever heard ----
For your Heart must be in your flying,
And you swell
with Instrinsic Pride;
(You see, I’m a Navigator And I just go along for the ride!).
Most of the danger is over,
And we feel pretty safe with our load
When we
“Spot” that old Ribbon of Freedom
That’s know as the Burma Road.
“Oil for the Lamps of China”
Was it the Poet said?
Oil and gas for
American Boys!
They need it like Butter needs Bread!
We follow the road ‘Cross the Mountains,
And our Airspeed jumps as we Wing
Through the Valley that leads for the last hundred miles
To our destination ----Kunming!
Yes! I’ve
flown from Natal to Ascension
When the scum wasn’t drained from the sump,
But it’s nothing compared to the thrill you get
In a ship flying “Over the Hump”!
Oh! Historys
page through every age
Tells of men who accomplished things,
But few there are shine a Brighter star
Than the boys with the Silver Wings!
--2nd Lt.
J. D. Broughel--
1st Transport Group--13th Transport Squadron
U. S. Army-----July 25 to 27, 1943
Return to
top
That’s turned a hair gray in my ad, *********************Ju25
to 27, 1943
April
1 2008
Shirley West who wrote the
story
"Whatever happened to my Rocking Horse"
gives us another insight into her life -
This time she is
helping a friend Sally, who is collecting stories of Indian
Railways in the 20's 30's and 40's -there has recently been
some first class photos of rail scenes in Assam on
www.koi-hai.com and this should add to the interest -here is
Shirley's note:
Hello Sally,
I
arrived in Calcutta in March 1942, having been evacuated
from Rangoon on the last ship to leave before the Japs
arrived. We were soon on a train to Bangalore to be
with my maternal grandparents, and then on to Simla in the
foothills of the Himalayas where Burma railways had
regrouped. My Father was a senior accounts officer
with Burma Railways, and as such, his family always had the
privilege of travelling First Class on all our journeys.
We would travel down to Bangalore for the three month
Christmas Holidays, and of course the train journeys were a
source of great pleasure and excitement.
The noise of the big stations, Madras, Delhi and
Bombay were something never to be forgotten. We always
had a coupe for my Mother, brother and myself, and it was
always my lot to sleep on the floor. The bedroll would
be opened, and I would fall asleep to the rumble of the
wheels. It was a bit dicey sleeping on the floor,
there was always the danger of being trodden on during the
night if either of the other two needed the loo!
My Mother would take a huge wicker picnic basket with
food for the journey, Madras to Delhi took two days, and I
would chomp through two dozen hard-boiled eggs during this
time. Once we ordered a meal from the dining car, this
was delivered but the attendant did not have enough time to
get back to his work place, so he simply hung on to the door
handle outside our compartment till the next stop.
As the train would come in to the station, my Mother
would hang out of the carriage window, yelling "Coolie,
coolie!" till we would have about twenty of them
running to keep pace with our compartment till the train
stopped. We only had three suitcases !!!!
My most vivid memory of these journeys was "The
Bath" in the First Class Ladies Waiting Room in Delhi !
We always had several hours to kill before the train to
Kalka, and my Mother would decide that I needed a bath.
The Waiting Room was a huge, cool, dark room, with another
huge room which was the bathroom. Here, in splendid
isolation, would stand a huge marble bath. I was only seven
years old, and she would tell me to stand in the bath so
that I would not pick up any germs! This would be
fine, until the soapy water seeped under my feet and I would
fall - all arms and legs - elbows and knees hitting the
sides of the bath. My Mother was not one for
tenderness or patience, and she would shout and slap me for
not doing as I had been told!!!! How I hated those
baths in Delhi. Small as I was, I used to wonder why
my Mother never remembered that I always fell.
The
little train from Kalka up to Simla was delightful. We
would go through 103 tunnels on the way, with the
compartment filling with smoke in the darkness, the stations
on the way all had the usual vendors, with the brown monkeys
ever watchful for anything that could be snatched or eaten.
My husband and I had two holidays in India in 2001
and 2004 both were nostalgia trips organised by someone who
had schooled at Sanawar in the Simla Hills. The trip
by train was an extra excursion because car journeys were
faster, but it was not the same. No steam , no smoke
and no whistle.
In 1960 I took my Mum back to India to see her Mother
who lived in Allahabad. Yet again we were lucky as Dad
had written to Indian Railways asking that his wife and
unmarried daughter be watched over, and back came a reply
from someone who had worked under him years before, and
offered us free First Class travel whilst in India! I
have never forgotten the Ticket Clerk in Agra, (a lady
clerk), saying we would have to change trains at two in the
morning. On seeing my dismay at this, she said
"Never mind, you ladies have a good sleep and I will
arrange for the bogey to be transferred to the other
train!" I did wonder just where we would find
ourselves the next morning, but sure enough, we arrived in
Allahabad as promised! What service and efficiency!
The school trains were something else! The
school year lasted from March to December, and long journeys
were involved in getting the children to the Hill Schools,so
teachers were roped in to supervise the children on the
trip. The older children, usually the boys, used to
get up to all sorts of mischief. I have a friend who
is nearing eighty and he says he still has a conscience
about how they used to trick to vendors and not pay for the
good they "bought".
I hope this is the sort of thing you are looking for,
and wish you all the very best in your quest to compile
Indian train memories. You may also find this website of
interest, it is fascinating www.koi-hai.com an
www.koi-hai.com/Burma.html
Kind regards,
Shirley West
(nee Jones)
Return to
top
********************************************************
November 18 2007
This article which is part of Prime Minister Gordon Brown's book
Wartime Courage was shown in the Daily Telegraph and we asked for
permission to show on our website--the part shown is copied below
Wartime
Courage by Gordon Brown:
---- part four----
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For
two years, Major Hugh Seagrim trained and led an
army of Burmese tribesmen to resist the Japanese
occupation. But, as Gordon Brown reveals in the
fourth of our exclusive extracts from his new
book, Seagrim’s love for his men was so great
that he could see only one way to save them
**********************
Near St
Mary’s church in the little village of
Whissonsett in Norfolk stands a memorial to two
brothers, one with the Victoria Cross, one with
the George Cross.
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Former
POWs pay their respects at a war
cemetery in Rangoon
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The only two
brothers ever to be so honoured, they were sons of
a local clergyman, the Rev. Charles Seagrim,
rector of Whissonsett-with-Horningtoft. Neither
survived the war, and both awards were posthumous.
The older
brother, Lt. Col. Derek Seagrim, earned a VC for
his heroic leadership of a battalion of the Green
Howards in an assault on the Mareth Line in North
Africa on 21 and 22 March 1943, but died on 6
April of wounds sustained in another battle.
Major Hugh
Seagrim, GC DSO MBE, Lt. Col. Seagrim’s youngest
brother, served for two years behind enemy lines
in Burma, in circumstances of appalling hardship,
uncertainty and danger; and died in Rangoon on 2
September in the same year.
Hugh
Seagrim’s story, set in the darkest times of the
war in the Far East, is one of the highest courage
and leadership. Always short of weapons,
ammunition and supplies, and only rarely in touch
with command, he raised and led a local force, the
Karen Levies; and with them remained in Eastern
Burma during the Japanese occupation, threatening
and harassing their lines of communication and
maintaining, however precariously, a British
presence there for much of the time between the
invasion of Burma and the arrival of Slim’s
ultimately victorious Fourteenth Army.

Major Seagrim with his beloved
Karen fighters behind enemy lines
Hugh Seagrim was born in 1909, the
youngest of a family of five sons all of whom saw
Army service in the Second World War. He attended
the King Edward VI School in Norwich, where many
years before Horatio Nelson, also the son of a
Norfolk clergyman, had been a pupil. In 1927, when
Hugh was in his last year in school, his father
died. Plans for university and a career in
medicine were now unaffordable.
An application
for Dartmouth and the Navy failed – he was
partially colour-blind – but one for Sandhurst
succeeded, and he followed his brothers into the
Army. Like many a young officer of limited means,
he opted for service with the Indian Army and,
after a one-year attachment to the Highland Light
Infantry in Cawnpore, applied to join the Burma
Rifles and was posted to Taiping in Malaya,
joining the regiment as a 22-year old subaltern.
A good
linguist, a sportsman, and at 6ft 4in a talented
goalkeeper, he did well as a junior officer. His
quirky sense of humour made him popular with his
peers, though his love of classical music, his
restless intelligence and a wide reading that ran
to philosophers such as Nietzsche, Bergson and
Schopenhauer marked him out from them too. He was
not conventionally ambitious, often telling
colleagues he would sooner be a postman in Norfolk
than a general in India.
His troops
were Karens, members of a group of minority tribes
in Burma. His quick mastery of languages – he
spoke fluent Burmese and some Karen too –
impressed them, as did his goal-keeping and his
height (most Karens are stocky). He turned out to
be a natural regimental soldier: a gifted trainer
and leader of men.
He got to know
his Karens, and they him, and for the rest of his
life he was to serve with them. In his last letter
to his mother he wrote that there was a chance he
‘wouldn’t get through’, and that if he
didn’t, he ‘wanted to leave a memory with the
Karens’. The status of the Karens in Burma in
the 1930s and ’40s is relevant to this story.
An ethnic and
religious minority, they had long been subjugated
by the dominant Buddhist Burmese, and distrusted
by them too. In the ninetheenth century they had
welcomed the British, whom they saw as advancing
their rights in Burma; and a proportion,
particularly the leadership, had embraced
Christianity as a result of US missionary work
from 1813 on.
Indeed it was
said that the Karens called the American
missionaries their ‘mother’, and the British
authorities their ‘father’. Most Karens lived
a village life, agrarian and simple, and were led
by tribal elders. Those from the mountains of
Salween province in the east of Burma, the ‘hill
Karens’, were strongly represented in the Burma
Rifles and valued as tough and trustworthy
soldiers, and it was from them that Seagrim was
eventually to raise his irregular force.
In the later
1930s, when war threatened, he recognised their
potential for guerrilla warfare against the likely
enemy, and considered the Indian Army’s
traditional drill-based approach to training
pointless, even irrelevant, for the battles ahead.
Japan’s declaration of war in 1941 was followed
by a series of invasions across south-east Asia,
and in Burma preparations were made for resistance
against an enemy with overwhelming advantages both
in numbers and air superiority.
Plans for
Operation Oriental Mission, which would impose
maximum delay upon the enemy ‘by using forces
other than regular forces’, began to form. Very
soon its leader commandeered Seagrim, who had long
argued for the raising, training and use of an
army of Karen irregulars. He was formally seconded
to the new force, and was delighted to join it.
Gradually its
role was defined; in ‘stay-behind’ units, it
would attack likely main Japanese supply routes
such as the Moulmein-Rangoon road and railway.
What was sound in theory proved very difficult in
practice. The main problem was a desperate
shortage of arms and ammunition, and already time
was running out. The Japanese were advancing from
Siam into Burma.
In late
January 1942 Seagrim set out for Papun, in the
mountains of Salween province, with a collection
of miscellaneous firearms, a few tommy guns and
some grenades. A little supply convoy, bringing
200 Italian rifles and a few thousand rounds of
ammunition, arrived a few days later, and on its
return to Rangoon was almost cut off by the
advancing enemy.
In Papun
Seagrim recruited 200 levies and trained them his
way. Barefoot, and encouraged to shoot accurately
from any position they found comfortable – no
Indian Army firing-range drills now – they
practiced concealment and ambush techniques in the
kind of hill country they knew well.
An Army
colleague, Ronald Heath, later a highly successful
jungle training officer with the Chindits, was
impressed by the results. And of Seagrim he said:
‘Any of those Karen boys would have done
anything for him. He had a terrific sway over
those lads.’ The stay-behind role, and the fact
that the Japanese had over-run Burma, meant
Seagrim was now in continuous danger.
He moved
north, and the last British official he spoke to
for many months found him ‘cheerful, but not
betting on his chances.’ In the northern hills
he trained and organised several hundred more
recruits, but the shortage of weapons and
ammunition with which to train was a constant
hindrance.
In
desperation, the Karen crossbow, fatal at up to
seventy-five yards, became a weapon of modern war.
Worse even than lack of stores and firepower was
the lack of communication with the outside world,
and in April, Seagrim, who had served once as a
signals officer, set out to obtain a wireless set
from forces in a town far to the north, only to
discover when he got there that the Japanese were
in control.
On the way
back he was wounded in a bandit ambush, and spent
the next four months hidden in the jungle and
recuperating in the care of two Karen pastors.
Recovered, though still lacking arms, ammunition
and communications, he continued to sustain the
morale and loyalty of his levies across his vast
territory, travelling and maintaining contact
through messengers, and endlessly at risk to any
breach of security.
Dressed like a
Karen, and sustained and concealed by the Karens,
who said of him ‘He has learned to live like
us’, Seagrim moved from village to village, from
camp to camp, seeking out veterans of the Burma
Rifles, registering their names, and making plans
to support British troops once they returned to
Burma. Operation Oriental Mission was now barely
even a holding operation, but Seagrim never gave
up.
In late 1942
British and Indian forces were once more on the
offensive in the Arakan, and GHQ in Delhi looked
again at the possibility of irregular operations
in the Karen hill country. Early in 1943, three
officers, two British and one Karen, were to be
parachuted in with communication equipment and
instructions to make contact with Seagrim, who was
assumed – somewhat against the odds – to be
still alive.
Many attempts
resulted in eventual success: in October 1943
Major Nimmo, Lt Ba Gyaw and Seagrim established
wireless communication with India. At last useful
intelligence traffic began to flow in to Delhi.
But word of parachute drops and the presence of
British officers in the Karen hills had reached
the Japanese, and early in 1944 a 17-man military
‘Goods Distribution Unit’ arrived in Papun and
sold matches and cloth at suspiciously low rates.
Casual
enquiries about foreign soldiers and parachutes
drops confirmed suspicions, which loyal Karens
passed to Seagrim, who moved camp further into the
mountains. Shortly afterwards, the Japanese, who
had learned of the activities of Po Hla, a Karen
friend and supporter of Seagrim’s who had family
in Rangoon, advised him through a distant relative
that if he did not hand himself in for questioning
his family would suffer. The net was closing.
Again Seagrim was informed.
Soon Japanese
infantry and military police units appeared in
force in the Karen hills and began arresting and
torturing various suspects, including an old Burma
Rifles veteran who was one of Seagrim’s levy
commanders. Maung Wah endured three days of
beating, said nothing, was released, and went into
the hills to tell Seagrim what was happening.
Seeing his wounds, Seagrim wept, but the old
soldier simply entreated him to signal for aid and
arms from India and start a Karen revolt.
Seagrim tried,
but GHQ in Delhi refused. The time was not ripe.
Others under torture told more, and soon the
Japanese knew all they needed to: about the
levies, the arms dumps and Seagrim’s
whereabouts. Though loyal Karens still kept
Seagrim informed, and though he continued to move
camp, nothing could be done to prevent what
happened next. The Japanese located him and
attacked. But Seagrim and most of his companions,
warned by their noisy approach, escaped.
In the
following search of the mountainous jungle site,
Captain Inoue, leader of the Kempeitai (military
police) unit, found Seagrim’s bible. Seagrim
himself was to remain at large for another month.
The Japanese were determined to find him, and
their actions in the Karen hills degenerated into
a reign of terror. The loyalty and silence of the
Karens resulted in reprisals both savage and
brutally systematic.
Their villages
were burned and their elders tortured, sometimes
to death. Innocent people suffered dreadfully for
what was, in the eyes of their oppressors,
treachery. Meanwhile Seagrim, with Pa Ah, a young
Karen who had been parachuted in from India, made
his way through twenty-five miles of jungle to
Mewado, a village where his companion’s
brother-in-law would feed and protect them.
In the event
they stayed in the hills, with food brought to
them every few days, but the Japanese again closed
in, looking for Pa Ah, whom they knew had family
in the area. Under threat, the villagers persuaded
him to give himself up, and while he was in
Japanese custody word of Seagrim’s whereabouts
leaked out via a young Karen, who told Captain
Inoue.
When Inoue
arrived with his Kempeitai at Mewado and
threatened to burn down the village and arrest its
inhabitants, the headman, by now a friend of
Seagrim, offered to go and talk to him the next
day. They discussed suicide, which Seagrim
rejected as unchristian. Instead he decided to
give himself up, as the only way to end the
suffering now being inflicted on the Karen by the
Japanese. As they walked to the village Seagrim
gave the headman his watch, asking that he send it
to his mother in England after the war.
In Mewado
Seagrim and Inoue shook hands. Then Seagrim asked
Inoue to treat the Karens generously: ‘They are
not to blame. I alone am responsible for what has
happened in the hills.’ Captor and captive then
spent several days together, sharing meals and
accommodation and talking at length through an
interpreter, with Seagrim repeating his pleas for
clemency towards the Karens.
Inoue returned
Seagrim’s bible, and heard of his plans to be a
missionary among the Karens if he survived the
war. He did not. On 16 March 1944 he was taken
from Papun, first in an oxcart, then in a train to
Rangoon, and held prisoner at the Kempeitai
headquarters there. In a grim jail, in which
torture was common and many died, he stood out,
not simply because of his great height.
A
fellow-prisoner, Arthur Sharpe, a young RAF
officer shot down over Burma, found in him ‘a
profound philosophy and a strong religious
faith.’ He believed him to be ‘the finest
gentleman I have ever met. He had a complete
disregard for his own life and the same time the
greatest concern for the Karen NCO’s and men
under him.’
Seagrim
conducted a short service for another RAF officer,
including an impromptu prayer. Sharpe later wrote
‘Nothing could reveal better this man’s
wonderful character than those words which are now
lost. A tribute to the dead, a prayer for the
living, and, greatest of all, a word for his cruel
captors, for of the Japs he said, in the words of
Christ, “Lord, forgive them, or they know not
what they do.”’
In early July
Seagrim and surviving hill Karens were transferred
to another jail at Insein near Rangoon. On 2
September he and fifteen Karens were summoned to a
court martial. Again Seagrim pleaded for the lives
of his Karens, saying that he alone was
responsible for their actions, and that he alone
should suffer. He and seven of the Karens were
sentenced to death, the remaining eight receiving
long jail sentences.
As the
condemned were driven away, with Seagrim in the
Karen attire he had worn since March 1942, one
Karen witness noted that he was ‘smiley-faced’
as he shouted goodbye to those destined only to
jail. As the citation for his posthumous GC
records: ‘There can hardly be a finer example of
self-sacrifice and bravery than that exhibited by
this officer who in cold blood deliberately gave
himself up to save others, knowing well what his
fate was likely to be at the hands of the
enemy.’
The Japanese
had prevailed over Seagrim and his Karen Levies.
But within a year of his death it was clear that
his courage, leadership and ultimate sacrifice
with and for the Karens had made possible a vast
and successful new venture that owed much to him
and his work in the hills.
Operation
Character, which began in April 1945, was the
largest and most successful example of irregular
warfare in all South-East Asia Command. More than
12,000 Karens, now well-armed and properly
supported, wrought havoc on Japanese forces in
Burma until their defeat, killing thousands and
tying down many thousands more in a classic
irregular conflict.
Seagrim, I think,
would not have been surprised; and, in the words
used in his last letter to his mother, he had
succeeded in his aim of leaving ‘a memory with
the Karens’.
When I read
that letter more than sixty years after his death,
I thought immediately of the inscription I first
saw many years ago at the Scottish National War
Memorial in Edinburgh Castle: ‘The whole earth
is the tomb of heroes and their story is not
graven in stone over their clay, but abides
everywhere, without visible symbol, woven into the
stuff of other men’s lives.’
·
Copyright © Gordon
Brown 2007. Taken from Wartime Courage by
Gordon Brown to be published by Bloomsbury in 2008
|
|
November
10 2007
Shirley West wrote: You
kindly published my article "Whatever Happened To My Rocking
Horse?"
(Which is just below this story)
Whilst on holiday in Cyprus last month, we met Bert Peers who
turned out to be quite a character! He entertained us for many
hours with his poems and extracts from Kipling, etc. One in
particular took our fancy, "Errol Flynn and me" - so much
so that he sent us a copy because of my Burma connection.
I have checked with Bert, and he is to quote:- "quite happy for
you to spread his poem but wants to point out that he wrote it
as a skit after seeing the film 'Burma Victory' (sic) 'Objective
Burma' which apparently anyone who was there during the War
absolutely hated."
Thank you
Shirley--Here it is
HOW WE WON THE WAR IN BURMA
-just Errol Flynn – and me.
The war in Europe was ending in the winter of ‘44
I thought that I had done my bit but the Air Force wanted more;
They said that now the Jerries had been beaten well and true,
It’s time the Japs were taught just what a Yorkshire lad can do;
And so they then decided before the battle could begin
They’d send for reinforcements - me and Errol Flynn.
They
sent us off to Chittagong and on to Cox’ Bazaar,
We
flew right down from Ramree, it wasn’t very far,
They
said that we should both report to Burma GHQ
As
the brass hats at the centre really hadn’t got a clue,
So
they then decided we should help out General Slim
And
so we went to meet him – me and Errol Flynn.
‘At
last’, said Bill we’ve got a chance now that you lads have
arrived,
We’ll
give the Japs a shake up, a mighty big surprise;
We’ll
chase the blighters all the way from Magwe down to Prome
Those
little yellow perils will wish they had stayed at home
So
come on lads get cracking if battle you would win
We
only needed you to come – you and Errol Flynn
So
we chased them all the morning, - we were feeling very warm;
We
chased through the evening, through night until the dawn,
We
chased them through the jungle ‘till we came to old Pegu,
And
the Japanese commander just knew not what to do
His
Generals suggested that they might as well give in
When
they were told that what they faced was me and Errol Flynn.
A
few snags we encountered as we advanced all that day,
A
Nip armoured division we swept out of our way
Some
Geisha girls the Japs then sent to try to halt our push,
And
some 40,000 Japanese were trampled in the rush
And
who was in the forefront with a beatific grin
None
other than yours truly, yes me and Errol Flynn.
Those
Geisha girls were lovely, and we really made them swoon
They
said that they would wait for us when we finally reached Rangoon
So
we pressed on forward our just reward to take
We
had Banana money and my mother’s Christmas cake
To
take advantage of those girls, it really was a sin
But
we were hard, the two of us – me and Errol Flynn.
At
last the Japs surrendered, you could see they’d had enough,
They
had run the length of Burma, and were feeling pretty rough;
Mountbatten
took their swords from them, for that really was his due
And
looked around to see who he would present them to
And
then he smiled; ‘They go to those who have set Burma free’
And
so he gave those Nippon swords to Errol Flynn and me.
©
Albert Peers.
October
28 2006
WHAT
EVER HAPPENED TO MY ROCKING HORSE?
Through the kind auspices of Bob
Needham, Shirley West writes offering her
article to www.koi-hai.com
which the Editor is delighted to accept.
Shirley offers a little background to her story.
It all started when we took my
cousin from Australia and her husband Tim to
visit the RAF Museum in Hendon, London, last July. Tim's
Father had been
the Lead Navigator in the first non-stop flight from Egypt to Darwin
in 1938,
and he had found a cine film of this epic flight amongst his late
Father's things.
The Asst. Curator at the RAF Museum was delighted to accept a
copy of the
film together with Log books etc. He then asked me where
I had been during
the War, and I dismissed this with "I was only six and at the
receiving end of
Jap bombs in Rangoon"....
So here is the outcome - my
article
"WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO MY ROCKING HORSE?" It is now
filed in the
archives of the RAF Museum, Hendon; the Royal Signals Museum
in
Blandford, Dorset; and the Imperial War Museum in London.
WHAT
EVER HAPPENED TO MY ROCKING HORSE?
The
recollections of a six year old at the fall of Rangoon, Burma in
1941/42.
By
Shirley
Ann West.
[nee
Jones]
I was born in Rangoon in April 1935, and lived at 39 Fraser Road,
Rangoon
with my parents, George and Mabel Jones, and my elder brother Philip. My
father Charles George Jones was a senior officer with Burma Railways.
We had a
comfortable life, a big house, large grounds with a hard tennis
court
in the front garden, and a wide circle of friends. There were many
servants, and
I had two ayahs, my beloved Susan Ayah and her teenage niece Monica
both of whom looked after me with such love for the first 6½ years of
my life.
A photograph taken in happier times.
My
sixth birthday party in April 1941
I
remember the grown-ups sitting around the radio listening grim faced
to the
news. Pearl Harbour, sunken battleships, Singapore falling [how I
wondered]
Japs advancing……..I often heard the word propaganda and wondered
who
or what on earth it was.
Earlier
in the year we had dug in the back garden what we had hoped and
planned to be a swimming pool, it was a hole about ten feet by six
with the
vain hope that the monsoon rains would fill it for our pleasure. Now
it was
pressed into service as an air raid shelter. Railway sleepers were
laid over
it, which were covered with soil and sandbags. Steps were cut into the
side
to provide access, but they soon crumbled to leave us with a slide.
Mats and
rugs were laid on the ground in the shelter, but these had to be
lifted daily
to check for snakes and scorpions that might be hidden under them.
On
23rd. December 1941 my brother and I were with my mother at
the cinema, watching ‘The Reluctant Dragon’. My mother asked why
everyone was leaving
the cinema, and was told that there was an air raid in progress. We
hurriedly
left the cinema and drove home. The City of Rangoon was being bombed
by
the Japs, with a great many casualties resulting. We lived away from
the centre
of the City, and some friends and acquaintances from the City
arrived at our
house seeking shelter. No one was turned away, but providing food
became something of a problem. My mother went off in the car,
accompanied by
Bernard the bearer, to see what she could get, scrounging or buying
enough
to keep us going.
On
25th December, Christmas Day, the Japs had promised Rangoon
a
‘Christmas dinner’, and true to their word the sirens sounded at
around midday
My mother, fearing that this would happen, had ordered lunch to be
served
early, so when the sirens went we had just finished
our meal. The bombing
by the Japs was heavy with the residential areas being the main target
this
time. During a lull in the bombing my father and another man decided
to leave
the shelter and see what had happened. They were soon back, a bomb
had
fallen on our tennis court and the Sawyer’s house was burning
fiercely. I can remember a strong acrid smell. But the incendiary bomb
which had fallen on
the tennis court had not set fire to our house, although it was
riddled with small pellets which had burned a small circle where each
had landed. Later we
found another unexploded bomb behind the garage and the servants
quarters which meant that we had been right in the path of these two
bombs. Back in the house
the overhead fan had crashed onto the dining table smashing the
glasses and
the crockery. After this experience our ‘refugee’ friends
packed up their
belongings again, and moved further out of Rangoon!
From then
onwards there were nightly air raids. The sirens would sound and
Mum would then put me on the potty! We would dash down stairs,
all except
my Father – who insisted on getting dressed. He would arrive
at the shelter
long after the bombing had started, with Mum alternately praying out
loud for deliverance – much to my acute embarrassment – or
haranguing Dad that
he
would be killed if he weren’t more careful.
She would cover my ears with a
pillow and tell me to go to sleep! How on earth could I? I could feel
the exploding bombs, the noise frightened me, and I felt very hot
underneath that stuffy old
pillow.
Moonlit
nights made us feel very unsafe. Mum thought that the Japs would
think that our tennis court was really an airstrip so she initially
had the servants
put all the potted palms on it to soften the outline. She then
looked out of an
upstairs window to view the finished work only to decide that the Japs
would
then think that the palms were troops guarding the airstrip, so the
palms were speedily removed, and earth was scattered over the tennis
court.
I
clearly remember that the neighbourhood dogs would start howling
before
the siren sounded. They seemed to be aware of the raid about to
happen, and
I often wondered if they could hear the aircraft before we could as
the Jap
aircraft engines had a curious drone to them.
Whilst
in the shelter my foremost feeling was one of embarrassment at
Mum
praying aloud. I hoped also that a bomb would not fall on us, but
never thought
this through as to what would happen to us if one ever did. I
was terrified of
the loud bangs of exploding bombs, and even now the sound of a siren
makes
my stomach turn. We had no defence against the Japs. I believe
that we did
have a few small aircraft, but the best Rangoon could manage were long
bamboo poles surrounded by sandbags made to look like anti-aircraft
guns
By
late February 1942 people were leaving Rangoon by any means
possible,
by sea to India, or up country to Northern Burma. Mum had heard that
the
shipping company had set up a point at Rangoon racecourse to deal
with
the huge crowds seeking a passage to India, so off she went to join
the scrum.
As luck would have it, when she got to the desk the man dealing with
the ticket allocation was someone she had helped in the past, and at
that time he had
told her that if he could ever return the favour she only had to ask.
It was time
to ask, and so with tickets for herself, my brother, and me, we
boarded a
Chinese ship the “Hong Peng” in Rangoon harbour bound for
Calcutta.
Once
aboard nothing much seemed to be happening. We spent the next two
days tied up to the wharf with frequent air raids, and hindered
by me crying
for both my Daddy and my Ayah. I had not said goodbye to them, and
nobody
had thought to tell me that we were leaving for India. We were given
permission
to leave the ship briefly, and my poor Dad was shocked to see us turn
up at
his office at Burma Railways. He drove us home where we had a meal and
I had
a bath, stopped crying, and then returned to the ship.
It
was said that the delay in departing was due to the fact that they
were loading
all of Burma’s gold reserves and would be the last ship to leave,
but finally everything was made ready and we sailed out of Rangoon
harbour.

SS HONG PENG.
[This
photograph shows her aground in Hong Kong harbour after the great
typhoon in 1937.
Luckily she was re-floated and was able to take us to safety
some five years later.]
Looking
now at the photograph of the ship I am amazed at how much
smalleand scruffier she looks compared with how I remember her through
a
child’s eye.
After
we had sailed, back in Rangoon my Dad had heard a rumour that
two
previous ships sailing from there had been sunk by Jap submarines.
Using his contacts, he gave chase in a Customs launch in the hope of
getting us off the
ship, but by the time he reached Hastings, the point where the Pilot
left the ship,
we were on the high seas bound for Calcutta. I have often
wondered what would have been our fate had he been successful in
reaching us, and getting us off the
ship
I
remember very little of that three day voyage to India except that my
mother had
a ‘heart attack’ and took to her bunk. There was in fact nothing
wrong with her
heart. My fear at the time was what on earth would we do if she died
on the voyage. My brother was ten and I was six, and all we knew was
that Aunty Minsey lived in Calcutta and Granny and Grandpapa lived in
Bangalore, but nothing more. As she had taken to her bunk I presume
that somebody took us for meals and up on deck
as I can remember old ladies spending their time up there
sighting all sorts of phantom mines and periscopes! Luckily they were
seeing things and we arrived
safe and sound, and my mother made a miraculous recovery.
We
arrived in Calcutta, and on disembarking from the SS Hong Peng we were
instructed by officious ladies wearing armbands that we were to stay
put until
we had been registered. Mum tired of waiting in the heat after a
trying and dangerous voyage had a few choice words to say about them
before she
whisked us off in a taxi to my Aunt’s flat in Calcutta. As a result
we were never registered as refugees, and our names do not appear on
any of the published
lists. I have vivid memories of arriving at Aunty Minseys flat,
and her calling out “Mabel and the children are here” and Great
Aunt Min calling back “No, no,
they are all dead, I know they are all dead!”
Meanwhile,
in March 1942 my Dad was still in Rangoon, staying in post to see
all of his staff safely away, and records destroyed. As a result
he left it too late
to get away. Rangoon was now a very dangerous place, with the Japs on
the doorstep the authorities had emptied the jails of convicts, and
released the
insane from the asylum, with the result that they were all rampaging
through
the City, stealing food, looting shops and homes, and burning
property. My
Dad said later that he just walked out of our home, not
bothering to lock the
doors – there was no point. Together with his faithful cook, Sahib
Din, he
trekked over a thousand miles through the jungle, out of Burma into
India.
Without Sahib Din he would never have survived the appalling hardships
of
the trek. He owed his life to his faithful servant who nursed him
through dysentery, and eventually they both made it into India and
safety. Countless numbers
died on the trek out of Burma, and we were so happy eventually to
receive
a telegram two months later to say that Dad and his cook were
alive.
All
we now had was what we had carried out from Burma, and that was
not
much. We lost everything, silver, photographs, toys, and all our
family
treasures. Such photographs as we now have are those we sent to
relatives
before the invasion.
But
to this day I still wonder what ever happened to my favourite toy,
my
rocking horse
©
Shirley West,
Iver Village,
Buckinghamshire,
July
2006.
POSTSCRIPT.
For
the rest of the war we all lived in Simla in the foothills of the
Indian
Himalayas, my Father returning to Burma in 1945 and the rest of the
family
in 1946.
When
my father returned to Rangoon from Simla in 1945 after the
defeat
of the Japs, our cook Sahib Din returned with him. Rangoon was in
a
dreadful state and only jeeps could cope with the damaged roads,
and
although our old house was still there in Fraser Road, we were given
a
railway house at 39 Prome Road in which to live; and joy of joys
my
beloved Ayah, Susan Mary, was there.
Shirley at
Rangoon River
Ayah & Monica with Anthony
1947.
1947.
Sahib
Din our cook, Rangoon
1947
Ayah
and her husband, Vincent Veloo had survived the Jap occupation, as had
her niece Monica who had married Bernard, our bearer, and they
had a child, Anthony. Vincent was now the Station Master at Prome Road
Station, and he
and Susan Mary lived in a small cottage adjoining the station. We only
lived a
few yards away, and Ayah and I spent many happy hours together, and
she
often brought Monica and young Anthony to see us.
On
January 4th 1948, Burma’s Independence Day, we sailed
from Rangoon for England. Dad stayed on in Rangoon where he was
Controller of Railway
Accounts with Burma Railways.
In
1949 Dad had to take early retirement, and left Burma to join us in
England.
Sahib Din, who had worked for Dad since 1916, was given a lump sum,
and he returned to his family in his village in India. Dad kept in
touch with him, and
Sahib Din would reply using the services of a ‘writer of letters’.
When a letter
was received requesting the names and photographs of the
children, suspicions were aroused, and we sadly concluded that Sahib
Din had died and the
‘writer of letters’ was anxious to adopt us
ooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooo
October 23 2006
Our
thanks to Larry Brown
Larry
Brown uses RootsWeb
India-L, which provides a
forum where those who have connections with India
are able to interact with like minded people and share
stories and experiences as well as to enquire about
relatives
who had been in India in the early days.
Sometimes a story appears which is very moving and
provides an insight into an event that many of us know of.
One such story is the Trek from Burma in 1942 by
Bonnie Arnall. Bonnie's grandson,Bob Needham,lives
in Port Macquarie,NSW. Australia, and he kindly gave
permission for us to share in Bonnie's story.
The
Burma Trek 1942 ( Pt. One)
by Bonnie ARNALL (nee BAY).
Made
possible and forwarded by "R
& P Needham"
Whose
e-mail address is BobNeedham@bigpond.com.au
Bob would be happy to answer any queries on the article
I
As
a result of a recent offer to the list to share my Grandmother's
reminiscences of her experiences on the trek quite a few listers
have asked me to send them a copy. However I thought it might
be of general interest to most of the list so with apologies
to
those who are not interested, here it is. My Grandmother was
born in 1888 and was in fact 54 at the start of the trek. And she
was actually 77 yrs. old when she wrote this in U.K.
Granny
was born in Maymo. The rather quaint way in which she writes
is just as she used to speak. The family called it a
"chi-chi"
accent. My Mother, born in Rangoon, spoke like that
also.
Most people thought they were Welsh. Finally my Grandfather,
Asst. Collector of Customs - Rangoon) Frederick J. Arnall,
was actually born in West Derby (Nr. Everton) and not Redruth.
His Father, Henry, was born in Redruth. Once again apologies
for the length to those who are not interested.
Bob
Needham
N.S.W.
Australia.
Mrs.
Bonnie E. Arnall,
Tadley
- Hants.
U.K.
Age
- 69 at present - 10.2.65.
Widow
of the late F.J. Arnall of His Majesty's Customs, Rangoon.
Birthplace - Redruth Cornwall, later of Everton, and daughter
of the late Major Thomas Archibald Bay T.M.D. serving with the
British Forces in Burma. This is how I happened to be in Rangoon
when war was declared; age 52 years when I left Rangoon for the
Burma Road. Below is the TRUE story of my sufferings, sleepless
nights and losses from December 1941 to May 1945. I arrived in
India after my long walk lasting nearly three months of
countless miles through jungles and up hills.
In
November 1941 I left Rangoon to have a holiday in South India
and, while there, I heard the news that war was declared by the
Japanese and the British, so I made up my mind to return at once
to Rangoon, knowing that my two sons Donald and Jamie would be
called up for Military Service and that our home would be left
unprotected. I went at once to book my passage on the first ship
leaving Madras for Rangoon. The route we took was longer than
usual and lasted about 10 days. This was because Japanese
submarines were supposed to be in the Bay of Bengal. We arrived
at the mouth of the Irrawaddy River on the 25th December,
1941.
As we journeyed up the river the first sight we saw was the
beautiful golden Shwe Dagon Pagoda, which is built on a small
hill; it was glittering in the morning sun.
We could now see
burning villages and smoke all along the banks. It was only then
that we learnt from the Ship's radio that Rangoon had been bombed on
Christmas morning. The
Japs
let Rangoon know that they were going to bomb the city, and
give them 'plum puddings' for Christmas. This they did, just when
all the people were out - some returning from Church. It was a busy
day, also a day of death all over. I must tell you that my
voyage across the Bay of Bengal were nights of terror, waiting
for death perhaps from a submarine. We were in darkness all
through the voyage, and no-one was even allowed to light a
matchstick.
When
I landed in Rangoon I was told by the Customs Officers that there
were no conveyances, so I left my baggage at the Customs Office and
started to walk all alone to my home on the cantonments, which was a
good two miles.. As I walked through the town the sight that I saw
was terrible. Broken bodies of poor women, men and children all
lying, some on the roads, some just entering their homes.
Shopkeepers - their bodies lying across their open stalls and, worst
of all, was the horrible smell from these unfortunate people. In the
cafes, which were also bombed, sat people at their tables - dead. It
was a case of "in the midst of life, we are in Death". I
was feeling ill, and sick, to see all this as I went along, and
finally came near to my home. In the distance I could
see crowds of people all gazing at something and, when I was near,
I could see a huge crater - the result of a Jap bomb that was
thrown that morning of Christmas at about 9 o'clock. There was not
a sound in my home - my sons having been 'called up', but there were
one or two people in a part of my home. Jamie was called up by
the Air Force,
and Donald joined The Battery. For a week I
lived
in terror all alone
then news came that all the convicts, lepers and insane people were
going to be freed, as all the officials in charge had run away for
safety, and there would be no-one to look after their welfare. This
bit of news added to my nights of terror thinking that every
moment someone would enter my door. It was only on moonlight nights
the Jap bombers
came over and when the siren went (a whistle blown by
neighbours who acted as wardens) my dog and I ran downstairs
to the shelter, which was dug in my garden. Along with me were a few
Indian women and children, and one of my servants (the others
having run away). These people kept on praying as long as the
bombers kept flying over. This went on for a week, as there
were no British bombers to stop them. !
Later
on one morning my son, Jamie, came in suddenly and
told me I would have to leave the house as the pilot of
the
plane said he could try and find a place for me as he was flying
on to India. On being told this I never suffered so much in my
life. The thought of leaving a beautiful home, pet cats, a dog
with puppies and poultry in the yard, which were to be left to
the mercy of the invaders, or thieves. Before I left in
the
lorry, after being almost carried down by my son, he ran
upstairs again and brought down my favourite cat, Tibby, and
put her on my lap, as I was crying so bitterly. I must tell
you that I carried Tibby through the whole of my journey, in a
Burmese bag slung over my shoulder. On arrival at the airfield,
the officer in charge then told my son that, as another
officer had turned up, he could not find a place for his
mother.
My son then took me to a cousin living in Rangoon with her
husband, who was a Sergeant in the Royal Army Ordnance Corps!
.
She
was Secretary to the Friends' Ambulance Unit, doing some
work in Burma and who were at this time leaving for
Upper
Burma. These people were Quakers of America. They then agreed
to take me along in their station wagon along with my
cousin
and her sister.
It was the month of March that we
left Rangoon, reaching Mandalay after a journey of about 4 days.
From here we went
on to May Myo, a Hill Station. When in May Myo the news
came over the radio's loudspeaker that there was a big fight
between the Japanese bombers and the American (there were a
few
here who came to help). This set me thinking a lot - and if
anything had happened to my son as a few British planes were
also in the fight. I had no idea at this time where
my two sons were.
We were at May Myo for a week during this period - the
Japs came over every morning at 10 o'clock. Before they came
my cousin and I used to cook a small meal, and then go out a
mile and sit under some large trees in a deserted
area until
the bombers flew back to their base. Then we returned to our
room - a small one in a broken down shop. My other cousin
left with General Stilwell's army, along with the Quakers,
to go on to Lashio in Northern Burma, where the lead mines
were in the Lashio hills, hoping to get an aeroplane to India,
but without success. After the bombers went back to base
we
went out to see what destruction they had done and, to our
horror, we could see dead and dying all over, some in
trenches,
and some on the roads, even poor horses and other animals.
Return to
top
The
Burma Trek 1942 ( Pt.
Two)
by
Bonnie ARNALL (nee BAY).
Made possible and
forwarded by "R & P
Neeedham
In
the evenings the bombers never came as the mist was too
great for them over the hills. Before we left for Mandalay again
I went to see the Air Force officers stationed at May Myo,
telling
them I was the mother of J. Arnall belonging to the Air
Force,
and asking if they could get me away, being all alone, as I
heard
some other evacuees were sent away to India. The Officer in
Charge, a Captain, promised to get me away, but that is all, for
I never saw him again until I was on the Burma Road. We
now
left May Myo to go to Mandalay, being the route to India which
we had to take. We were offered a place by the Military Accts.
in
some open trucks that were going to Mandalay. On the way to
Mandalay we had to climb a hill and half way up we heard the
sound of bombers, so the driver of the truck stopped still
until
they passed over. May Myo, I must say, was a big military
objective
for the Japs who wanted to destroy the Military Posts and
Railways. We reached Mandalay !
and
when we arrived there we
found Mandalay in flames and almost raised to the ground. From
here the evacuees, including my cousin and me, were put into
some open railway trucks with the sun's rays on our heads, which
was something terrible. We journeyed on, sometimes in the
pouring
rain, when halfway to Moniwa we had an accident - the driver of the
train being evidently under the influence of drink, which led to
the
trucks running off the lines. Two trucks from the one my
cousin
|and I were in rolled over, dragging the others with them. The
speed
that the train travelled was terrible so all the passengers were
being
thrown from side to side. As soon as the front carriages stopped
along
with the engine we all ran to see the damage done, and if we
could
help in some way. The screaming and crying of the wounded was
heartrending. Some were under the trucks and some pinned under
the wheels. Some were calling to us to help them. There were no
doctors
or even medicines
available to treat them. My cousin and I went to help
an unfortunate Indian woman, and to try and bandage her wounds
with
some clothes we had, but an officer called us away and told us to
get
onto the train at once - a most cruel act. The train left, leaving
these
wounded people alone until help could be sent to them. We
arrived
in Moniwa where there was a small camp. A short time after some of
the wounded from the train disaster
were brought in for
attendance.
For some days after this I could not sleep, as the cries of these
poor
souls kept ringing in my ears. From Moniwa we again moved on
and
crossed the Chindwin River by ferry and rested here a day where
we
managed to get something to eat and drink for payment to a Burmese
stall holder. From here we walked to Kalewa, another village,
where
we got two coolies to carry our baskets which contained a few of our
treasured possessions, such as family photos, a gold plated
French
clock about 80 years old give
n
to my mother by her mother as a
wedding gift, money and a little jewellery. Stayed here a day,
got
something to eat, and then started our walk again until we came to
another deserted village. It was here that three officers came up
to
us and asked us how we were faring. It was then that I recognised
one of them - the Captain that I asked for a seat in the planes at
May
Myo. I thanked him very much for his kindness in getting me
away!!!
He said he was very sorry he could not find one available seat
for
me. I told him "well you have taken my son for military
service, but
could not help his mother, but left her to find her way alone to
reach
India somehow". At the time when they arrived I was making
some
tea which a kind evacuee neighbour
gave
me - a pkt. of leaves. I offered
them some in old broken mugs left back by other evacuees,
which
they accepted very gladly and said it was hours since they had a
drink.
Of
course the tea had no milk or sugar and it was made on a fire
from
the dry twigs of trees in the jungle. After drinking the tea the
officer
promised to come back and take my cousin and me for only a few
miles as they had to go on some duty. Well, they came the next
day
and we got into the Jeep with them. Also our baskets were taken.
After they left us on the road we started to walk again until we
came
to another deserted village. We were then feeling very hungry
and
tired and a lot of pain in our feet. In this village there was
no-one and
nothing to buy. From the other evacuees we begged a drink, and one
family gave us two tins of meat which kept us going for two
days. We
had a drink of water at this village. I thank Jehovah that I
was often
given drinks of coffee and baked bread by the Indian soldiers,
who
were deserters and running away to India. I must say that it was
not
only the Japs that people were running away from but also the
Burmese dacoits,
who
were becoming very cruel to people of other
countries. After a rest
that night, the next morning I went to see what I
could buy in the shape of food and drink from the other people
around.
At last I say down again with another lot of Indians. A cart drawn
by
bulls stopped near us and the driver said that there was a white man
inside. The occupants of the cart said that they had found him
lying
by the roadside. We got him out at once and the Indian soldiers and
I tried to revive him. He was in a bad state having had a stroke of
the
sun. I had some Aspirin in my hut. This I gave him and the
Indian
soldiers managed to force a hot drink of coffee down. It was only
the
next day that the fever had gone down a bit. We took the man to the
hut.
I eventually found that he belonged to the Gloucesters, on the move
to
India. Next day again I stood in the middle of the road and
stopped a
passing jeep with officers on the run. They stopped though
being
annoyed
at having to do so. I told them here was a British soldier
very
ill and to take him away, which they did. At the next stop again in
another
deserted village I helped another British soldier, who was ill also
and
hardly able to walk. His legs and arms were a mass of sores
caused
by shrapnel of Jap bombs. I was told that these sores are very hard
to
cure as there was a sort of poison in the shrapnel. I had some
Condy's
and a bit of ointment with me and attended to him. As my
cousin and I
were trained by the St. John's Ambulance I always carried a small
box
of medicines with me. The next day I again stopped another jeep
with
two officers and told them that a soldier was in my hut and unable
to
walk. The officers then came and took him away. I wonder where
these
boys are now, and some others, and if they are still alive in
England.
At this camp a little Indian girl, about 10 years old, died of
fever, just
near to where I slept. The parents were so distressed
as they could find
nothing to dig a grave.
Seeing
their distress I went and got the loan of a wood chopper from
a neighbour, with which they did the needful. I was heartbroken to
see
this child being carried on her father's shoulder to be buried in
the
jungle. Another sleepless night!!! We next stopped at an open
space
and rested for the night. The silence, and noise of the frogs
and
crickets, were terrible - no sleep could we get. Next we arrived
at
the village of Tamu which was also deserted, and the scenery
around
the hills was wonderful. We crossed over a rope bridge here from
one
hill to another.
Return to
top
The
Burma Trek 1942 ( Pt. Three)
by Bonnie ARNALL (nee BAY).
Made
possible and forwarded by "R
& P
Needham
At
this place a bus came from somewhere and two officials in charge
there
put us in. In the hurry to get in one of my baskets was left behind
containing
my gold plated clock. I only missed it after getting out at
the stop which we
were taken to - about 10 miles. From the next stop we got two Naga
coolies
to carry our baskets, my cousin going first. They walked very fast
and I missed
them and I never saw my cousin until we reached Calcutta. She told
me in Calcutta that she lost sight of the coolies, so this was the
last of my worldly possessions gone. From now on I was alone going
along with other evacuees - mostly
Indians. My possessions now were my cat slung on my shoulder, tied
in a handkerchief some jewellery, money and medicines. I got milk
etc. for my cat
from a young Persian couple with a baby, whom I made friends
with. After a
time I missed them on the Road. I carried on feeling very tired, and
my feet
aching, also hungry. I asked an Indian to cut
me a nice stout bamboo; this
I now used to help me up the inclines. The Naga hills were
very high in
places and it was dreadful to look down into the valley below,
which one
could hardly see. On the Road now I saw many awful sights as
the people
were feeling the walk they had done; some old people
staggering along
and kids crying. One old man was sitting by a tree on the roadside
holding
an umbrella. Everyone ran to look at him and, when I went up near
him, I
could see he was quite dead. I could not stop my tears from coming.
I
passed on and later found a running river. I stopped and, behind
some
bushes, I took off my frock,
washed and dried it. While it was drying I did
the same to my underlinen. In this stream one could see the dead
bodies
of other evacuees floating, but we had to use this water as no other
streams
were to be seen. For days I went on, not knowing the day or the
month,
having made no record since I left Mandalay.
I
got a drink and a bit of food, now and again, from friendly evacuees
and,
with Jehovah's help, I carried on. Whenever we saw fresh water
running
from the side of a rock, we all made a dash for it, to quench our
thirst. After
some days I reached Imphal, a rather big place where some troops
were
stationed. I had a rest and a bit of food. The officials here took
the evacuees
a few miles out, left us then to carry on our walk. I must say
that they took
us out in lorries that they had spare. I walked on again until I
reached Kohima - another fairly big place, had another rest and a
meal and carried on until I
reached Dimapur. Here all the evacuees were put on a train and taken
to
Sanhati. As soon as the train reached the station we were all given
a paper
bag with sandwiches and a mug of tea. We then went on a short
distance,
got out, and were put on a ferry which took us across the river
Brahmaputra.
On the other bank a train was waiting to take us into
Calcutta. On arrival at
Calcutta we were taken to a large Convent which was given for the
use of
evacuees arriving from the Burma Road. Here we were given a bath,
clean
clothes and shoes. When I arrived here my frock was almost in rags,
and
my shoes almost in pieces. We were given a wonderful meal. Each of
us
was given a bed to sleep on. You can just imagine the wonderful
sleep I
had, no fear at all this time when I laid my head down. It was here
I met my
cousin whom I lost on the Road half way to India. She then told me
the story
how the coolies ran away, so she went on with friends whom she knew
in
Rangoon. Before this she told me that my two sons, Jamie and Donald,
came every day to see if my name was on the Arrival Board, as
evacuees
were arriving every day and this notice enabled relatives to see if
their
people had arrived.
Two
days later my two sons came in and at last I saw them, after
three
months of torture thinking what had become of them. I thanked
Jehovah
that their lives and mine had been spared and that he had brought us
to
safety. They both had suffered like myself, as both
Had
to find their way
also to Calcutta, by the Chittagong Coast. From Calcutta, after a
stay of a
few days where my sons bought me clothes etc., I went on to Madras
in
South India to stay with two cousins who were widows living in a sma
town not far from the Military Station of Bangalore. The name of the
town
was Ranipet. I was not two days there when I fell seriously ill with
Malaria
Fever and I was a month in bed looked after by my cousins, and
an
American doctor. My recovery was very slow due to the exertion I
had
travelling so many miles on foot, and the starvation I endured. I
must tell
you that my cat, Tibby, died two years after my arrival at
Madras. Now my
days of nightmares were over, and my mind at peace, and when I
could
no longer be afraid and could not hear the wild animals in the
jungle. We
did not see any as the tramp of the evacuees had driven them
into the
deep jungle. After four years living in Madras while the war
continued
I returned to Burma
in 1946 after the Peace Treaty was signed in September
1945. In India I was supported by the Indian Government as my sons
were
still on duty and could just send me a small allowance. After a
month I joined
my sons in Rangoon.
We
stayed about a year then made up our minds to make our home in
England, another reason to rejoin my two daughters who were
married
and living there. At this time it was very unsafe to live in Burma
as dacoitry
was rife, so we left for England.
This
is the end of my story which I have written as best as I could at
the ripe
old age of 69. Those awful 3 months I endured on the Road will
always be in
my memory. I do not believe that 9 out of 10 people in England
knew what the people of Burma suffered, with no planes or troops to
protect them. It was
just a game of Chance 'Live or Die'.
The
words below appeal to me always:
"Lead
kindly light amid the encircling gloom
Lead
thou me on
The
night is dark, and I am far from home
Lead
thou me on
Keep
thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The
distant scene; one step enough for me".
Mrs.
Bonnie E. Arnall
(An
Evacuee from Burma)
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***************************************************
October 18 2006
BRIGADIER
GENERAL ROBERT SCOTT
Fighter
pilot with the Flying Tigers who flew alongside the RAF
against the Japanese and became known as the ‘one man air force’
Brigadier
General Robert Scott,
who
has died aged 97, became
an “ace” fighter pilot flying alongside RAF squadrons in Burma
against
the Japanese in 1942, an experience that he recorded in his
classic
wartime memoir God is my Co-Pilot: a film of the same
name starring
Dennis Morgan as Scott, was released in 1945.
Scott was a flying instructor in California when the
Japanese attacked Pearl
Harbor in December 1941. He immediately volunteered for active duty
but,
at the age of 34, he was deemed too old
Eventually,
falsely claiming that he had flown a B-17 bomber, he managed
to be assigned to a bomber force due to make a top-secret raid on
Tokyo.
When the operation was cancelled he was in Karachi and was
soon appointed
operations officer for the Assam-Burma-China Ferry Command, flying
supplies
across the Himalayas to, amongst others, General Claire
Chennault and his
American Volunteer Group (AVG), better known as the “Flying
Tigers” who
operated in support of Nationalist Chinese forces.
Scott
struck up a close friendship with Chennault, and persuaded him to
lend
him a P40 Warhawk fighter, supposedly to protect the ferry route
from attack.
Scott operated over northern Burma and in the defence of Rangoon,
the vital
port for supplies to China. In this fighter, which
he called Old Exterminator, he
carried out many ground-attack sorties against the advancing
Japanese army
and was soon in combat with enemy fighters: within a few weeks he
had
destroyed eight.
After
the Japanese had occupied Burma, Scott and his pilots continued the
fight in
western China. The RAF air commander was full of praise for the AVG
pilots,
commenting: “Their gallantry in action won the admiration of both
services.
When
the Flying Tigers were disbanded in July 1942 and absorbed into the
USAAF Scott was appointed to command them with the 23rd Fighter
Group
of the China Air Task Force. By February 1943 he had been credited
with
destroying 13 aircraft - the
authorities would not confirm a further nine probables
because his aircraft did not carry a gun camera. His successes made
him one
of the first US air ‘aces’ of the war. The enemy placed
a reward on Scott’s head
and he became known as the “one-man air force”. After flying 388
combat
missions, he returned to the United States.
Robert
Lee Scott was born on April 12 1908 at Waynesboro, Georgia and
was
educated at Macon Lanier High School before entering the US Military
Academy
at West Point. After
graduating as an army lieutenant in 1932 he toured Europe
and Asia on a motorcycle before embarking on his pilot
training in Texas
He
gained valuable experience flying the airmail with the US Army Air
Corps, then
spent three years with fighters in Panama before becoming a flying
instructor in
California
After
his service in China in 1942-43, Scott
toured the United States to help sell
war bonds before becoming the deputy for operations at the
School of Applied
Tactics at Orlando, Florida. He
returned to China in 1944 to fly rocket-firing fighter-bombers in
attacks on rail yards and re-supply lines. The next year he
went
to Okinawa to fly similar operations against enemy shipping
and remained there
until the end of the war.
Scott was awarded two Silver Stars, three DFCs and
three Air Medals
After the war he commanded the first jet-flying
school, at Williams Field. Arizona,
before assuming command in 1950 of the 36th Fighter Bomber Wing,
flying F-84
Thunderjets from Fürstenfeldbruck in southern Germany.
In 1953 he entered the
National War College in Washington, and on graduating was
promoted to brigadier
general and made Director of Information, working directly for
the Secretary of the
Air Force. His often outspoken style did not endear him to the
Washington
bureaucracy, and in October 1956 he returned to flying fighters when
he took command
of Luke Air Force Base in Arizona
In
the years after the war, Scott had been a strong advocate of making
the air force
a separate and independent service: he considered
inter-service rivalries both
needless and irritating.
In
October 1957 Scott retired, becoming a prolific writer on aviation
subjects:
his books included The Day I Owned the Sky and Flying
Tiger: Chennault of
China. He also
lectured widely. In
1980, at the age of 72, he spent 93 days
walking and riding a camel along the entire 2000-rnile length
of the Great Wall
of China.
In
1986 Scott returned to Georgia, which he described as a homecoming,
and
immediately became involved in the building and establishment of the
Museum
of Aviation at Robins Air Base, south of Atlanta.
He continued to fly, and on his
88th birthday he flew in a F-15 Eagle fighter and a year later in
the B-1 Lancer
bomber. Scott remained
very active until the end of his life.
In 1996, at the age
at 88, he ran with the Olympic torch along a section of Georgia
Highway 247
named in his honour. For
many years he worked regularly at the air museum.
Robert
Scott, who died on 27th February
2006, married Catherine Rix Green in
1934: she died in 1972 and their daughter survives him.
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***********************************************
October 18 2006
Major
'Trof' Trofimov
This item was taken from the Obituaries section Daily Telegraph
of May 29 2006
and
thanks to Robin and Maxine Humphries we now have a photograph of the
Brave
Major
'Trof' Trofimov
SOE officer who led Karen fighters against the Japanese in Burma and
a Jedburgh team in France.
Major
"Trof" Trofimov, who has died aged 84, was awarded the MC
in Burma in 1945
and the Croix de Guerre while serving with the Jedburgh Special
Forces in France.
In
February 1945 Trofimov, then a captain, was dropped by Dakota into
dense jungle
in the Karen mountains of Burma. He landed with a crash among
the trees, took a step forward in the darkness and pitched 30 feet
into a ravine.
He
crawled back up and found that he had lost his torch. There was no
sign of his five comrades, and it was days before they were
re-united.
Trofimov,
who was serving with Force 136, was charged with building up a
unit
comprising Karen volunteers to harass the retreating Japanese.
Once
he had equipped and trained them, they planted booby traps, set
ambushes,
mined roads and blew up bridges. Trofimov's group of about 100 men
caused
havoc among the enemy, and a price was put on his head.
In
April he and Major R A Critchley led an attack on a strong Japanese
garrison
at Papun. The Japanese had been forewarned, and Trofimov's force,
most of whom
had never seen action, came under devastating machine-gun
fire. Some Karens
took to their heels, but many held firm.
Trofimov
found himself pinned down under the weight of fire, but he had some
home-made bombs and he quickly armed these and threw them. He
rallied the
survivors and led them out. He was awarded an immediate MC for his
part in the battle.
"Trof"
Trofimov died on May 6 while attending a Jedburgh reunion
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********************
August 6 2006
Stephen Brookes returns
to Burma after 60 years
Larry Brown told the following
story to the Editor:
A couple of years back, Alan
Lane kindly sent me a book 'Through
the Jungle of Death' by Stephen Brookes. To say that I enjoyed
reading the
book would not really be an apt comment. It was, for the people
involved, the
most harrowing experience of their lives. The place names
like Ledo, Tipong, Margherita, PatkoiHills and the Pangsau Pass
were familiar to me and as a 23
year old I enjoyed exploring these areas.
However, for the countless thousands who trekked from Burma in
1942,in poor health and facing extreme hardships, it was a
nightmare. I was moved by Stephens graphic account of his
experience as a 12 year old on the trek and
I read and re-read his book a number of times. I did not think
that I would ever meet him in person but luckily I was wrong in
this assumption and in April of
2005 I was fortunate to meet him and his wife Maggie, when,
through a long term friend, Sandra Quigley, we were invited to
their home, just outside Cambridge,
for lunch. I found Stephen to be a lovely, lovely man and I am
glad that we
became firm friends.
When I returned to Australia, Stephen and I have kept in touch and
it was only
a few days ag that I came across a previous email from him, which
was particularly evocative to me now tha I knew him as a personal
friend, and in
the email he described the pilgrimage he had made back to
Burma in 2002.
and here is Stephen's
e-mail that Larry refers to:
Many years ago, my sister Maisie, who
lives in Perth, told me that when we
were near the Assam border in
autumn 1942, a man from the rescue party
saw a
young Tarzan scrambling about in the jungle with a kukri in his
hand
as he hunted fo bamboo shoots for his family to eat.
Apparently this man was
so moved by the sight of this
kid with torn clothes, no shoes and no fear of the jungle, that
he asked my mother if he could adopt him. Yes, the kid was me!
And the man, whose name Maisie pointed out to me in Tyson's
'Forgotten Frontier'' was -- Major Henniker Heaton!! I
was glad to hear that Mum told him to get lost.
Glad to know that you may make
the trip to Burma one day. Maggie and I went
to Burma
in 2002. Sadly, in the course of 60 tumultous years since 1942,
that beautifu land and its' people have suffered greviously. Yet
despite their problems, we were welcomed with smiles, warmth and
generosity. We flew up to Maymyo,
but it was unrecognisable apart from the glorious lakes and gardens. I did not recognise a single
street or building and it could have been the back of the moon.
Somewhere near the edge of town I came across a man who asked me,
in
English, what house was I looking for ?

When I said: "Lindfield which used to be in Fryer
Road". He replied, "Are
you Stevie Brookes"!! Aaaaaahg!! I nearly had a heart attack! He said his
name was
Noel Fento and he was in my class at school and they used to live opposite us. Hell's Bell's!!
This was the family mentioned in my book where my Dad potted their dog
Blackie with his 12 bore
shotgun because it bit Maisie. But even more, an old
man came up to me and said, "Stevie. I
remember how you used to bake bread
in a bully-beef tin during the Trek in the Hukawang
Valley." CRIKEY"!! "GREAT BALLS OF
FIRE"!!.
He was Reggie Fenton, also mentioned in my book, because he joined
our family in
Shingbwiyang when my Dad died. I had not seen either of them since 1942 and
bumped into them just 100 yards from my home 60 years on.!
I walked slowly to where my home
was but when I got there, there was
NOTHING.
My home
had disappeared and in its place were four acres of thick
jungle,
creepers, dense bamboo and squatter's bamboo huts. Of Lindfield there was
nothing, even the oak
trees, gardens and the cherry trees which
George and I used climb, had gone - cut down for fire
wood and building.
How sad! I sat on the ground near Maggie because my knees had gone. I felt nauseous, my
thoughts were in a jumble and I did not feel well.

I though of beating up a squatter or two, but Maggie,
understanding
as ever told me to leave it. "This was the land of the Burmese which your
family held for a few years. It had now gone back to the rightful owners."
It was a black, black
time. Serves you right for going back Brookesie
Sleeping dogs should be left alone. But there was a lasting
memory of
the Brookes famil in this lonely place, for the Burmese had renamed this road
"Cherry Road"- no doubt after the cherry trees that once grew in Lindfield.
I feel good about that.
In fact, I
feel damn pleased about that, because
I mentioned those lovely trees in my book - and now they
have been
immortalised by the Burmese as well.

However, I chose the date of our visit
because it coincided with the
Festival of Tazaungdaing in
September. It was the end of the monsoons
and I wanted to celebrate the rising of the Full Moon of Thadinjut by
sending a fire balloon up into the night sky with
an offering for the
Nats and Gods and a message to my Mum. It was fantastic.
A small crowd gathered around Maggie and me as they helped me to ignite
the fire source under the
balloon (it was over six feet tall) and light the small
lights in the four tails. Then they held their palms together in prayer and understanding, while I tied on the letter to my Mum
and an offering to
the nats. Finally, I was the only one
holding the balloon above my head.
It was really tugging my hands to be free.
I opened my hands and held my palms together
in honour of my Mum as the
balloon soared into the night sky - -
which wa filled with a million stars and a
huge yellow Full Moon.
Above me were other fire ballons, drifting up to the
Gods from the villagers around the town.
I distinctly felt that Mum was not
very far that night.
And so, I must go. Take care and see
you one day.
Steve
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August 6 2006
Letter
from Burma (No. 21)
by Aung San Suu Kyi
Mainichi Daily News
Sunday, April 14, 1996
GATHERING AT TEASHOPS POPULAR PASTIME "Taking Tea"
Tea plays a very important part in the social life of Burma. A pot
of green tea, refilled again and again, is the hub of many an
animated circle of conversation. There is also pickled tea leaves,
/laphet/, soaked in good oil and served with such garnishes as
sesame seeds, dried shrimps, roasted beans, peanuts and crisp
fried garlic. It is indispensable as a traditional offering of
hospitality, either as a conclusion to a meal or as a savory snack
between meals.
While there is nothing more refreshing than a cup of pale amber
tea made from roasted leaves grown in the Shan plateau, the
Burmese people have become increasingly fond of "sweet
tea." This is tea made from milk and sugar -- but not the
English way. "Sweet tea" stalls were originally run by
Indian immigrants so the tea is made in a way not unfamiliar to
those who have frequented "char" shops in India. Tea
leaves are boiled up with sweetened condensed milk in large
vessels. The resulting pinkish brown beverage is thick and of a
full flavor quite unknown to those who pour out their tea into
individual cups before adding a dainty splash of milk and
restrained spoonfuls of sugar.
In Burmese teashops one does not ask for "lapsang souchong"
or Earl Grey or flowery orange pekoe or English breakfast blend.
Instead one asks for "mildly sweet," "mildly sweet
and strong," "sweet and rich," or "/Kyaukpadaung/"
(very sweet and thick). If the tea is made with imported condensed
milk instead of the locally produced variety it becomes
"/she'/" ("special") and costs and extra
couple of kyats. Friends gathering at teashops is so popular a
pastime the expression "teashop sitting" is practically
a verb in its own right. It is in teashops that people exchange
news and, when it is not too dangerous an occupation, discuss
politics. In fact there is an expression "green tea
circle"which implies an informal discussion group. There is
even a book of that title, based on a political column written
between May 1946 and October 1947 by a famous newspaper man. The
teashop is still one of the best places for catching up on the
latest gossip around town, whether it is about the marital
adventures of film stars or about nefarious dealings in high
circles.
Writers also go in for "teashop sitting." Sometimes
such a gathering is the equivalent of an informal literary meeting
or a poetry reading. Students and other young people too,
congregate at favorite tea shops to hold discussions ranging from
pop music to political aspirations. Pungent catch words and
phrases often emerge from such teashop talk and quickly spread
around town. These days there is a tacitly accepted dividing line
between young people who go in for "teashop sitting" and
those who prefer to spend their leisure hours in discos and
expensive restaurants. The difference between the two categories
is to a considerable degree, but not altogether, financial.
"Teashop sitting" students are more in the tradition of
those young men and women who turned Rangoon University into a
bastion of the independence movement before the Second World War
while their disco-going counterparts tend to look upon the yuppie
as their role model.
Taking a cup of tea is such a regular practice in Burma that,
as in some other Asian countries, a tip is known as "tea
money." However, when the gap between the salaries earned by
civil servants and the cost of living increased, the
interpretation of the phrase "tea money" underwent a
metamorphosis: it came to mean bribes given to clear obstacles
that block the bureaucratic process. But this was in the day when
such bribes were relatively modest sums. Nowadays, when the going
rate for speeding up a passport application is in five figures,
"tea money" is no longer a satisfactory euphemism for
bribes: the current expression is "pouring water,"
referring, one assumes, to the need for liberal
"libations" at all relevant department.
The price of a cup of tea in an ordinary teashop is about 8 to
10 kyats, still not beyond the means of struggling writers and
students. However, the cost of taking tea in one of the new, or
newly renovated, starred hotels of Rangoon is quite beyond the
dreams of most people in Burma. Tea for a single person served in
the English style costs three U.S. dollars. The official rate of
exchange for one U.S. dollar is less than six kyats, but in recent
weeks official exchange centers have been opened where Foreign
Exchange Certificates (FECs) can be exchanged at the more
realistic rate of 120 kyats to the dollar. This makes the price of
taking a gracious cuppa in a luxury hotel equivalent to 360 kyats.
Compare this to the basic monthly salary of the lowest eschelon of
civil servant, such as a beginning policeman, which is 600 kyats,
hardly sufficient to feed a family of four for one week. It is
then easy to understand why the supplementary income needed by
government employees can no longer be accurately described by the
expression "tea money," even when the tea concerned is
of the most expensive kind.
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July 9 2006
A
message from Khine about 2006 photos
This month, I would like to
share with you photos taken by Charles
Peterson and Ronald Bleecker. I accompanied these gentlemen to
travel
on Ledo and Burma Road in January 2006
Charles is absolutely fascinated by WWII Jeeps and Dodges and he has
posted information about the Burma Dodge trucks at:
www.imageevent.com/vc40wc41
Ron's photo album simply brings exciting and happy
memories. A word of
caution though. You can spend about 2 hours looking at these photos!
TRY
http://bleeckergate.com
`
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November 13 2005
We are indebted to Khine for passing on this
interesting comments on the "ROAD"
and the way it is looked at today.
The
Stilwell Road
sometimes known as Ledo Road
Strategic Memory Lane
(November 2005)
It is known as the “Road to
Nowhere” or “Ghost Road,” but there are hopes that political
and
strategic problems can be sidetracked to resurrect the World War
II-era Ledo Road, running
between India and China through Burma.
Scores of trucks driving along a double-track, all-weather road from
India to China must seem
like a scene from a futuristic or sci-fi movie. But it is
neither. It is the past. In 1945, a convoy
of 113 vehicles traveled from Ledo, in India’s Assam State, to
Kunming, the capital of Yunnan
Province, in southern China. It took 24 days to cover the
1,726 km route.
This long haul initiated the short lifespan of the Ledo Road—or
the Stilwell Road as it is also
known, in honor of its builder, Gen Joseph W Stilwell, commander of
US Forces in the
China-Burma-India theater of World War II, and chief of staff to
Generalissimo Chiang Kai-Shek,
Supreme Allied Commander in China.
The road was one of the
greatest engineering projects of the time. Built by one of the
most
international labor forces of all skin colors, under the supervision
of American engineers and
under the fire of Japanese snipers, it was operational for only 10
months. Then the war was over.
It had been built to provide supplies for the Allied forces in China
and north Burma after the
Japanese occupation of Burma in 1942 had cut off the earlier line of
war supplies shipped by
rail from Rangoon to Lashio, and then on to Kunming along the Burma
Road. The construction
of a new line of communication from the railhead town of Ledo in
India, via Myitkyina, to join
the Burma Road near the Chinese border, began in the same year. The
road was formally
completed in May 1945, and served to haul an estimated 34,000-50,000
tons of ammunition,
guns and food to China during its brief operation.
Today, the Ledo Road is called “a road to nowhere” and a “ghost
road,” and embarking on it
can be a nail-biting venture. The poorly paved road and infrequent
public bus service terminate
at Nampong, the administrative center and the base of the
paramilitary Assam Rifles, who
enjoy wide powers in India’s northeastern border areas. Whether
the local commander allows
further passage depends partly
on the position of military operations against the insurgent
United Liberation Front of Assam. The remaining 11.5 km to the
border make a barely passable
route for a good four-wheel drive. The border at Pangsau
(Hell) Pass is not open for crossing
except for locals on market days in Nampong, although a kind Burmese
army commander
may allow visiting the Lake of No Return, a few kilometers inside
Burma. “Some activities”
have been recently reported on the 140-km section of the road beyond
Pangsau Pass that
was earlier thought to no longer exist.
Burma obviously has a say in the big question—if and when the Ledo
Road is fully reopened.
The road runs 1,033 km through Burma, only 61 km in India, and in
China comprising 632 km
of the historic “communication” line. But Burma has been
publicly reluctant to proceed in any
talks about reopening the road. The parts of the Ledo Road passing
through areas of Kachin
State, where the SPDC does not have full control, are generally
believed to be the reason.
The Burmese director of border trade said last year at the
international conference on regional
cooperation in Assam that the project was so huge that more time to
study its feasibility was
required.
India and China have sometimes made calls to reopen the Ledo Road.
They have come from
a visiting delegation from the Yunnan Provincial Chamber of Commerce
at an international
trade fair in Guwahati, the capital of Assam; from the Federation of
Indian Export Organizations
in Calcutta; and increasingly from a number of individual
politicians and members of state
governments in India’s northeast, especially from Assam and
Arunachal Pradesh. Academics
have also raised the issue. A handful of people are upbeat about the
tourism prospects—
of driving air-con jeeps across the mountains and through jungles
and exotic places from
India to China.
China appears to be the most prepared. It has already greatly
upgraded its section of the
Burma Road, built in 1937-38, into a modern, partly six-lane
mountain highway.
Indian paranoia about a flood of cheap Chinese products has
increasingly given way to seeing
the benefits, particularly for its isolated northeast, from the
potential trade and the opening up
of its eastern borders. However, while its “look east” policy is
in full swing, Indian enthusiasm
about reopening the Ledo Road should not be overestimated.
“It is true that a number of individual politicians of the
northeast, especially from Assam and
Arunachal are pressing for the
re-opening of the Stilwell Road, but one should not exaggerate
it. It has not entered public consciousness and debates in any
significant sense. Official
India’s ambivalence about China is a big hurdle,” Sanjib Baruah,
a visiting professor at the
Center for Policy Research, New Delhi, commented to The Irrawaddy.
The Ledo Road is not
a part of India’s present “look east” policy.
A Singpho community leader in Miao, a small village in Arunachal
Pradesh near Ledo Road,
said: “Yes, there would be trade. Chinese goods are cheap but of
poor quality. From Burma,
people would buy cloth and medicine. Burmese herbal medicine
is highly appreciated here.
But the Indian government talks more than it does. The Chinese
government does. It develops
all border areas.”
At the local market in Nampong, everything—vegetables, household
items, food—is in big
demand by Burmese villagers, according to an Assam Rifles major, who
takes credit for allowing
a local market to operate for the benefit of both sides. “Most
people in Nampong are Naga.
They have relatives on the other side,” he said.
The 25,000 Kachin (Singpho) living in Assam and Arunachal Pradesh
wish that they were not
so isolated from their brethren in Kachin State and China. The
community leader in Miao,
pointing towards Pangsau Pass, 78 km from his village, said: “Kachin
State is so close. But
it is so difficult to get there. We need a road. If a road were
built, many people could travel
and trade.” The Kachin community in India was worried about “losing
culture.” The Kachin
traditional manau festivals are held in India, as they are in Kachin
areas in China and Burma.
Occasionally, Kachin dancers from Burma walk for 15 days across
mountains to attend.
However, the question of
reopening the historical Ledo Road is not about connecting the
Kachin in China, Burma and India, whose areas the road largely
crosses. It is about geopolitics
and the movement of goods, not people. And the green light has to
come from Rangoon,
with political will from China and India.



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November 12 2005
AUSSIE
DEKHO
The following is taken from the December 2005
edition of the "AUSSIE DEKHO" WHICH
IS THE JOURNAL OF THE NEW SOUTH WALES, BURMA STAR ASSOCIATION

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Below is page seven
The Demise of our
oldest Branch Member
The funeral of
Major Gerard “Joe” Kenay took place at the Northern Suburbs
Crematorium on 18th August 2005. His time as a Tea Planter in
Darjeeling and his war time exploits are recalled here in a tribute
paid to his colourful life. Seen here, in the early thirties,
leading out his team, as Captain of his University’s First Eleven
I was fortunate
in getting hold of a copy of Joe’s memoirs that make for
interesting & often amusing reading. Here are one or two short
snippets,
taken at random from his memoirs that illustrate his sense of humour,
his tenacity, resourcefulness and concern for others.
The Cow’s Tale
I
found we had an addition. to the signal section, a cow had attached
itself
to our column. 16 Brigade in its long march south had acquired it
some time
before. Was it for milk on the hoof or as an insurance against
starvation?
l must frankly say that it was a great blessing to me;
the marching for the
next few days was absolute hell, against the grain of the country.
Straight
up hills,the path almost perpendicular for 4,000 feet or so and then
down
again, only. to have a repeat time and time again. I used to hang on
to that
poor cow’s tail when the going got steep and it never appeared to
mind.
After we joined up with the White City columns at Naungpong
the cow
disappeared.
His blackest Day
Next
morning we left for Pankankyang, it was a 16 mile trip but
fortunately
for me all down hill.1 had a high temperature when we set off in the
morning
and it was not long before 1 found myself on my own. The column
always
stopped for 10 minutes every hour but 1 was not able to catch up
until the
column had stopped for the night. No one had noticed 1 was missing
and 1
kept quiet. The fever had gone by next morning.That lone walk was
easily my blackest day.
Keeping up
Appearances
We
were not able to bivvy that night as the Japs were close by and kept
fi ring
on the column. We slept in column formation. That was the only time
1 missed
out on my daily shave. I was one of the few who did not wear a
beard.1 think
Calvert and Rome also shaved regularly.
Woops! A
dropped catch.
We
waited a long time for Stilwell’s Chinese to join us at Mogaung.
The only sure way
to make them advance was to drop supplies away ahead of them.
1 remember a
supply drop as they were reaching Mogaung. One of their soldiers was
so eager to
get his hands on a bag of rice that was being free dropped that he
tried to catch it.
You can guess the
result!
His fellow soldiers nearby were highly amused.
Praise for the
US Pilots
The
Americans really looked after their own. In the early days when we
were running
out
of
ammunition, Mitchell Bomber landed and unloaded a consignment of
goodies
for their men. At the time,this did not go down too well with the
garrison who were
screaming out for ammunition but what a job those fellows did in the
campaign, with
their L5’s and P5 Vs. Without them there would have been no future
for us men on
the ground.
The Luck of the Irish
We
were now into May and the Monsoon would not be long delayed.A column
or so
of 16 Brigade together with their Brigade commander Fergusson
arrived in
Broadway for evacuation. They had marched in from Ledo,had done a
spot of
fighting and were now worn out. ln my eagerness to meet up with
their signal
officer Moon 1 took a short cut to where they were camped and
suddenly discovered
that there were booby traps in all directions. Luck was with
me and 1 was able to
extract myself.
l
met up with a young officer by name Srnylie....I often wonder if he
finally reached
India unscathed, because the 319 were heavily involved in the
Blackpool fiasco and afterwards...
Not exactly Gourmet.
During
our march up from Broadway we experienced diffi culties due to the
monsoon of getting regular supplies from the air. We were going
through
Kachin country and at one village a buffalo was purchased. I
obviously had
not reached the starving stage because I just could not bring
myself to eat my portion, so gave it to try Gurkha orderly and
he had no scruples. I made do
with bits of vegetation from the jungle,not appetising but at
least filling.
As Signals Offi cer to Brigadier Mike Calvert.
It
was at Lamai that 1 was fi nally introduced to Calvert. lt was here
1 reached 35,
Calvert himself was only 31.
Fifty
odd years later, Joe meets up again with Brigadier Calvert on a
Pilgrimage to Mogaung in Burma. (See
Aussie Dekho March 2004)
above is all of Aussie Dekho! DECEMBER
2005 Edition Page 7
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*******************************************************
The search for what really happened to his uncle
W/O Arthur Roland Williams RAAF
from page ten

Warrant officer Arthur Roland
Williams RAAF
Missing believed killed.
Those
who receive this kind of information must always wonder what really
happened. One such person is Ivor Smith who lives at Gosford East
NSW. For a number ofyears Ivor has been trying to discover what
really happened to his uncle: Warrant Offi cer Arthur Roland
Williams RAAF, who was a member of the crew of nine on Liberator
BZ938 of 159 Squadron, reported missing in Burma on 31/01/45
He appears to be the only Australian crew member (RAAF), the others
presumably were in the RAF. Detailed and intensive enquiries were
undertaken in relation to this aircraft because of the subsequent
War Crimes trial of six of the Japanese involved in the murders of
four members of the crew, namely that of Woodbridge (George Cross),
Bellingham, Snelling and Woodage.
Their fate was detailed in the last issue of the Aussie Dekho under
the title “Courageous Airmen Defy Japanese Captors” Of the other
members two were sent to Rangoon jail as Prisoners’ of War.
Three
members also were reported Missing, believed killed. Among these
three was Ivor’s uncle, Warrant Offi cer Arthur Williams. Because
there is no known grave for the three missing airmen, Ivor’s uncle
and the two other missing members are commemorated on a memorial
erected in Singapore to the memory of those who lost their lives
serving in the Far East.
A
report made by an RAF offi cer as early as 5th January 1946 gives
details of a visit to Letpanbin, the site of the crashed Liberator
B938, stating map coordinates
and
condition of the area. He believed the aircraft crashed into the
ground, probably exploded and burnt out. The only marks of identifi
cation were one undercarriage leg and probably part of the fl aps.
It was also believed that a portion of the wreckage was removed by
the Japanese.
From more detailed information given by headmen at Letpanbin it was
stated that one of the crew members was dead in the aircraft. (Could
this possibly have been Ivor’s uncle? - Editor)
That
seemed to be the end of the matter, but Ivor was not to give up. For
about twelve years he corresponded with Matthew Poole of Maryland in
the United States, who was also involved in trying to get further
information about a missing relative, a wireless operator/air
gunner, shot down over Rangoon in February 1944. As both cases were
similar they were able to exchange relative information. It was
through this association that Ivor was fi rst introduced to Khine
who also lived in Maryland. He learned about her part in the China
Burma India Expeditions.
Accordingly,
Ivor decided to get in touch with Khine & Clayton, leader of the
expedition, who agreed to undertake the discovery of the missing
aircraft aka “Wattowitch”, in which Ivor’s Uncle, W/O Arthur
Williams, was part of the crew.
Here
is an abridged version of Khine’s latest report:
Khine’s
Report - CBI Expeditions It so happened in October 2004, my partner,
Clayton and I were about to leave for Thailand to trek the Death
Railway in Kanchanaburi and to continue our journey towards Burma.
So I told Ivor I would try to locate the crash site providing that
he would give me further information. I was sent a folder containing
a lot of information but most importantly, the approximate location
of BZ938. The crash site happened to be at a small village called
“Letpanbin” near the town of Pyapone. When we arrived in Rangoon
after our trek along the Death Railway, we stayed at a hotel called
“Guest Care hotel” located near the Shwedagon Pagoda. As Clayton
and I were having breakfast one morning in their main dining room
discussing about our trip to Letpanbin via Pyapone, the
receptionist, Ma Zaw came towards us and started to take interest in
our conversation. She said she had overheard about our visit to
Pyapone and wanted us to know that her uncle, who is a retired
schoolteacher there, might be able to assist us. We were quite
dumbfounded. She then made calls to her uncle, informing him about
our arrival. We took off the next day from Rangoon to Pyapone in a
rental car. The road that led us to Pyapone went through several
townships at the outskirts of Rangoon, where both sides of the road
were covered with rice fields. The condition of the road, generally
speaking, was not too bad. It took us close to 3 hours to arrive at
the meeting point in Pyapone, which happened to be Ma Zaw’s uncle’s
home. He and his wife were waiting for us and immediately invited us
for lunch.
According
to U Khin Maung Lay, the retired schoolteacher, “Letpanbin”
where BZ938 had crashed was located about one and a half hours from
Pyapone. During the dry season from December to March, there is a
truck route navigable from Pyapone to Letpanbin but since we were
there in October, (the Delta region had heavy rainfall during the
Monsoon), we were advised to rent a boat from Pyapone on the Rangoon
River to reach this little village called “Letpanbin”.
When
we reached Letpanbin, we were led to the village Headman’s house
where we explained about our reconaissance trip. He was quite
astonished to listen to our story and asked us why we wanted to fi
nd something that happened 60 years ago. The Headman told us that
Clayton was the fi rst “white man” who had visited their village
since the end of Second World War.
After
showing him some of the black and white photos of the crash site,
the Headman told us that we should meet with the owner of the rice
fi eld, a farmer named Ko Hla where he thought BZ938 had crashed. Ko
Hla was quite amused, seeing city folk fighting their way in the
mud, while he crossed the muddy ditches with hardly any effort at
all. As we walked
towards the site, my mind wondered back to 31st January 1945 when
the crew members bailed out from the plane and walked towards
Letpanbin village. So I asked Ko Hla if he had heard anything about
this B-24. He said that he remembered hearing stories from his
grandparents, how they could not grow rice in the field due to the
amount of gasoline absorbed by the ground and that they could light
a match and the area would burn. (From an early document it was
revealed that the petrol load consisted of 2,980 gallons that would
give a normal endurance of 21 hours) He also told us that he saw “bullets
in the ground” several years ago, which suggested there being a
strong evidence of a crash.
I
was somewhat disappointed that I could not see any hard evidence of
the crash site: such as metal scrap or anything that suggested this
was the site - as it was covered with water. But the GPS reading
that Clayton took on the spot coincided quite closely with the
original GPS reading of the crash site. Yet, I still was not
pleased; as opposed to Clayton who was quite encouraged that the
remains of the BZ938 were just below the surface. He said that with
some minimal excavation, we would be able to establish the perimeter
of the crash site. Plus, he explained that we were standing on a
flat fi eld, which has not been subjected to erosion or significant
fi lling. But since it has been almost 60 years, any significant
debris was almost
certainly
hauled to the village as usable material. That was confi rmed by Ko
Hla who claimed that some villagers had old aluminum cups and plates
made from the body parts of the plane.
Without
any delay, we took several photos of the site and fi nally made our
way back to Rangoon late that day via Pyapone. Ko Hla did not want
us to cross the muddy ditches anymore so he led us by a different
route. He took us back to Letpanbin in a small boat, slowly paddling
along the muddy canals.
We
gave our report about our findings to Ivor after we returned to the
U.S.
Personally,
I was disappointed not being able to give them a more concrete
evidence of the crash site. Ivor and I, however, still keep in
touch. As Ivor is now aged 77, he wishes to pay his last respects to
his uncle and the crew members at the crash site of Wottowitch. I’d
like to make this happen for Ivor and for the other family members
of the Wottowitch crew. It would take one more trip for me during
the dry season to see the crash site of BZ938, when the entire
ground is dry. Geographical location and the poor telecommunication
system in Burma have hindered me from making further progress. I
have tried to call U Khin Maung Lay in Pyapone from the U.S. but
have been unsuccessful. So I have sent am few emails to the “Guest
Care” hotel in Rangoon, to the attention of Ma Zaw, the
receptionist. I hope that she will call her uncle on our behalf to
let him know that we are still interested to visit Letpanbin. I feel
that I have an obligation towards Ivor, even though I do not know
him personally. I also believe that every crash site has a worth
while “human” story to tell.. I sincerely hope eventually to
give Ivor some
final results as a closure to the case.
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Aussie Dekho! DECEMBER
2005 Edition Page 11

.(Top)
A shoot from the original famous Cherry Tree used as a sniper’s
post by the Japs was replanted & bore fruit in 1990.
(above)
Presenting BSA (NSW) Banner
to 29th Assam Rifl es in JCO’s
Mess at
Assam
Rifl e Range

(Top)
Upkeep of the “Tennis Court” An
icon that saw so much
close quarter
fighting
for 64 days.
(Above)
After hard
day on the Imphal Plain, George relaxes with
some creature comforts from local maidens.
Japanese
Memorial marks
“Uncle
Bill’s”
HQ in Imphal where he ate,
The
Kohima Stone with Epitaph.
the spot after which
they
drank, and planned his strategy
advanced no further
 
The
Tiddim Road Axis where
many
Here lies The “Gunga Din” of
the XIV Army..
battles were fought and many VC's
won
A symbol for all those who fought
& died in the Indian Army
and
now we come to Kohima

Japs
caught by surprise
George
saluting the Cameron Memorial, which he found in a Naga village,
hidden amongst the houses, pigs & chickens. This is where the
Cameron Highlanders, wearing sand shoes, crept on a Japanese HQ
during the night. Close by, the locals have erected a long pole,
topped off with a scimitar of Buffalo horns - an Angami Naga tribute
to bravery & valour. George is seen here wearing a Naga coat,
presented to him by Lt. General M
Pillai, Colonel of Assam
Regiment. Born 26 days after their raising, George is their senior son,
& treated accordingly -
viz. Like a three star
General! George continues to maintain a close interest in the
welfare of Gurkhas and their dependents.
The
KOHIMA Epitaph
A
great deal has been said, quoted and written about the Epitaph that
we use and refer to as the Kohima Epitaph. The version that we use
reads as follows:
When you go
home Tell them of us and say
For your tomorrow We gave our today.
There are, however, slight variants of this.
The original inscription on the Kohima epitaph read “their tomorrow” not “your
tomorrow”. This was amended on the plaque in 1963. The
original version composed by J M Edmonds read
“When you go
home, tell them of us,
and say For your tomorrows
these gave their today.
It is thought that Edmond’s rendering of the
Epitaph was probably influenced by
the
original Greek written by Simonides of Cos (c.536-469 BC ) on the
Cenotaph of Thermopylae. I have translated a very literal word for
word translation of the Greek that has little linguistic connection
with the text composed by Edmonds, though there is a similar
sentiment:
O xein (O, stranger!) aggellein (tell) LakedaimonioiV (the Spartans)
oti thde (that here) keimeqa (we lie) toiVv v v keinwn rhmasi (with
their words) peiqomenoi [obeying]
Here
are some possible paraphrases of the original Greek text:
Oh
foreigner, tell the Spartans that here we lie,
obeying those words. Go, tell the Spartans,
thou who passest by,
That here obedient to their laws we lie
Stranger,
bring the message to the Spartans
that here we remain, obedient to their laws.
Editor
of Aussie Dekho says:
I
am grateful to George Mackenzie for giving me some
detailed valuable information of his own that I have
summarised and
used in this article.
Sincere Thanks
to the Aussie Dekho Ron Boulton
from Editor www.Koi-Hai.com
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October 26 2005
This news
cutting was kindly sent in by Ali Zaman about the
"Young
Travellers" paying their respects--thanks Ali
TRIBUTES
PAID TO WORLD WAR ll
MARTYRS
From Our Correspondent
IMPHAL, Oct 21--The sound of
gunshots and war planes landing
and taking off echoed at the historic Imphal war cemetery
on
Thursday when a 41 member team of Royal British Legion paid
floral tributes to
the martyrs World War 11
here.
The
team comprised 17 World War veterans who fought gallant
battles to defend Manipur The elderly war veterans are accompanied
by their friends and relatives:
A heart- touching ceremony with a
guard of honour by the troops of
22 Maratha Light Infantry was also conducted
under the aegis
of
Assam Rifles as war veterans
laid floral wreath at the
cemetery
The Commander of 9 Sector Brig
VK Pillay also accompanied the war
veterans as the troops of 4
Assam
Rifles
provided the befitting touch
to the ceremony. Among
the veterans is 94-yearold war
veteran Lt Col Richard McCaig who is the eldest of the lot and
had served in Indian Army for ten years and fought many
battles
against invading Japanese Army in Manipur.
While interacting with this
reporter, he said those who wish to have
war in this new era should dealt with properly. He, however, did
not
regret the war in his time although he expressed
unhappiness over
the demise of four of his colleague British officers. Similarly 91
year
old Hilda Martin Smith who served the British troops as a
military
nurse during World War 11 in Manipur was intears to recall
that
seventy percent of the heroes in the war cemetery breathed the
last
in her presence.
“Those days were an
unforgettable experience in my life” Hilda Martin
Smith who is accompanied by her daughter Melissa Cherry, said
“I can’t believe Imphal has now become such a big city”
The British Team paid floral
tributes also to Indian world heroes
at the Indian War cemetery
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Myanmar
to reopen sectional wartime highway linking India, China
Source:
Xinhua, June 15, 2005 http://english.people.com.cn/200506/15/eng20050615_190392.html
Myanmar
(Burma) will reopen by next year its
section of a wartime highway linking neighboring India and China
after renovation to help facilitate trade between those two
countries, a local newspaper reported Wednesday.
The
1,300-kilometer-long Ledo or Stilwell Highway, a strategic supply
route between India and China via Myanmar's border town of Myitkyina
in the northernmost Kachin state, was built during World War II by
Chinese and American troops.
The
highway extends as Ledo (northeastern India)-Myitkyina ( northern
Myanmar)-Kunming (southwestern China).
The
reopening of the Myanmar section of the highway, which will lead to
the most convenient land route between China and India as well as to
turn Southeast Asia into a key trading hub, was discussed by the
Myanmar Ministry of Commerce and the India- Myanmar Federation of
Chambers of Commerce and Industry, the representatives of which
visited Yangon last May, the 7-Day News quoted the federation's
officials as saying.
The
current trading route to ship most of India's exports to China, by
contrast, is as long as 6,000 kilometers through the Malacca Strait
and the Indian Ocean before reaching China's eastern coast.
The
Ledo highway was built by Chinese troops and the Allied Forces of
the United States in 1945 to transport logistic supplies to the
beleaguered Chinese army when the Yunnan-Myanmar road, a crucial
lifeline in China's war of resistance against Japanese aggression,
was cut off by Japanese troops in 1942.
It
was later renamed the Stilwell Road after General Joseph Stilwell,
commander of the allied forces in Southeast Asia who commanded the
US forces in the China-Myanmar-India theater in World War II.
The
road starts in Ledo (India) and divides in two routes at Myitkyina
in Myanmar. The southern route runs through Bhamo and Namkham in
Myanmar reaches Wanding in China, while the northern route passes
Myanmar's Kambaiti, China's Houqiao and Tengchong, before connecting
with the Yunnan-Myanmar road.
_______________________________Return to
top__________________
STILWELL
ROAD SIGN
This picture was sent in
by Jim Beven as a memory tickler for old Koi Hais
The little boy in front is
Richard "Rick" Beven, and his mother
the late Jean Beven is to the far right of the photo.

Through
the Jungle of Death
A boy's escape from Wartime Burma
by Stephen Brookes

Thanks
to the good offices of Alan Lane and Larry Brown, here is a
heartfelt message from Steve the author, whose wife Maggie has
sorted his e-mail and
the rest of the technical stuff which enables Steve and I quote
"to enable me to talk to the world. Fantastic! I have finally
joined the 21st.century!
This is Steve's message
G'day
world! This is the Jungle Boy from the Hukawang Valley saying
Thank You and God Bless to all the tea planters from Assam.
It was your organisation, your kindness, devotion to
duty and amazing courage, that enabled thousands of refugees
to survive the terrible conditions of the trek from Burma in 1942.
My gratitude is also extended to the plantation labourers who
carried the heavy sacks of food and medicines over the steep
hills and swamps of the Valley of Death, so that we might live.
To all of you -
European and Asian alike, I now have the opportunity through this
amazing computer, to tell you that without your help 63 years ago,
I would not be alive to-day to record the terrible events in Through
The Jungle Of Death.
I must also tell
you that in 1999, my Editor from John Murray decided
that my manuscript was too
long. Although I protested at the time, she felt that
it was necessary, and wise, to delete 60,000 words. She
explained that the story should stop as soon as the boy reached
Assam in September 1942 and that the rest of his difficult life
and any reflections about the trek must be the subject of
another book. So my gratitude to you, the tea planters and
labourers, disappeared in the 60,000 words. I mention this,
just in case you should feel that your tremendous help was
not appreciated. So look out for the second book - if I live long
enough!
It is almost
midnight in Cambridge - and I have no doubt that tonight, as on
many nights in the passing years, I will dream of the Pangsau
Pass, Shingbwiyang, the monsoons, the deaths and the agony. That
is why I avoid thinking or talking about the war before
bedtime. But tonight is an exception - because I want to
immediately put on record the help of the Assam tea planters
in 1942..
December 22 2004
This
is the start of the Book
Forgotten Frontier
published
in 1945 and written by
Geoffrey Tyson
It
gives an account of the
task
facing the Indian Tea Association at the time –there will be more
to follow
Please
read on
TO WHAT
GREEN
HELL
When it is finally written the full story of world war
Number Two must inevitably include some account of the great
movements of civilian populations, inextricably entangled with
current military operations, which occurred during the years when
Axis striking power was at its height. The hurried trek across
France
in the face of Hitler's triumphant armies, no less than the
subsequent invasion and occupation of something like four hundred
thousand square miles of
Russia
,
produced mass movements of civilian population which were carried
out under conditions of which as yet we have very little accurate
knowledge. But, without drawing too freely on the imagination, we
can conjure up a reasonably true picture of the scene.
Less known, perhaps, to the world at large is the epilogue to
the loss of Burma, a story compounded of the same dark tragedy that
stalked the mainland of Europe with the added difference that for
thousands of British, Indian, Burman and other refugees, many of
them mixed descent, escape from a ruthless and cunning enemy
involved them in a struggle with the forces of Nature which must be
one of the epics in the annals of human endurance.
By the time they began the journey across the border
mountains to
India
they had for the most part placed themselves out of reach of the
Japanese terror.
Few, however, can have realised the ordeal that lay ahead, an
ordeal that was only partially mitigated by the relief columns that
thrust out from several points along the Indian border, across
hundreds of miles of wild, unknown and forbidding country-a
veritable No Man's Land which, for a few inclement monsoon months,
the swirling tide of war made for these children of the Empire an
inhospitable refuge.
Many perished on the journey; but without the large scale
relief that was organised from India's eastern border few, except
the early parties who made their way under more favourable weather
and ground conditions, would have survived.
This book is written from the standpoint of one of the chief relief
agencies, whose work, by general acknowledgment, contributed very
largely to the success of the evacuation as a whole.
I use the word `standpoint' deliberately, because whilst the
succeeding pages are an endeavour to place on record a comprehensive
account of the relief operations carried out by the Indian, Tea
Association, it will be necessary to digress from time to time,
to look at other parts of the several lifelines which were thrown
out to the retreating victims of the Japanese occupation of
Burma
.
A more ambitious piece of writing would, no doubt; attempt a full
length, co-ordinated narrative of the whole vast undertaking for
which the Government of India made itself either directly or
indirectly responsible. I have been privilege'; to see many of the
official records of the time, and I hope that in due course they
will be made available to the general public, for they constitute a
record of which, in spite of some mistakes and errors of judgment,
the authorities have good reason to be proud. But a book which would
provide a satisfactory conspectus of all that happened in connection
with Eastern Frontier projects and relief in the critical period of
1942 is beyond the compass of my present task, which is directly
chiefly to placing on record the role of the Indian tea industry as
a whole, and particularly that part played by its planter members,
upon whom to a large extent fell the actual execution of this
magnificent errand of mercy.
Their work lay literally in the valley of the shadow ; and if
I may borrow a famous epitaph in which Edmund Blunden has
immortalised the men who fought in the battle of the Somme, what the
planters of Assam did day after day, week after week, and month
after month 'will never be excelled in honour, unselfishness and
love.' There are many more to whom these words apply with equal
truth.
The men of the tea industry, who worked in the camps and on
the roads, know full well that these others gave themselves
unsparingly to the job in hand, and it is no wish of theirs that
even by implication, such outstanding devotion to their fellows
should go unhonoured and unsung.
But in writing a story of the kind I now essay, an author
must set himself certain severely practical limits.
To attempt to
traverse all the ground which the various relief organisations in
fact covered would almost certainly have bogged me down, and just as
surely, as were some of the hapless victims whose vicissitudes and
triumphs form the contents of succeeding chapters.
I have, therefore, confined myself to that part of the great
trek over which the Indian tea industry exercised a beneficent and
merciful supervision.
It is not the whole of the grim odyssey, but a big enough
part of it to justify a volume to itself.
To understand the problem which confronted the authorities
in
India
in the spring of 1942, it is necessary to take the reader back a
bit, and to recapitulate events which now seem remote, but
which are really set in the relatively recent past. We may take as
our point of departure February loth, 1942, the date on which
the partial evacuation of
Rangoon
was begun. Events, and the enemy, had moved quickly since the
Japanese had invaded the Tenasserim districts of
Burma
early in December.
We know now that, hard pressed as we were on every front of a
global war, and with a vast garrison tied up in Malaya, our resources
for the defence of Burma were probably inadequate from the beginning
of a campaign which, as time went on, necessarily partook of the
nature of a defensive and delaying action. At that moment, however,
we had some reason to hope, and believe, that if not the whole, at
least the northern part of the country, might be held against the
enemy.
On
the other hand, the dislocation by air raids of the life of the
capital city, and the rapid advance of the enemy's forces from the
south, had created a profound psychological effect, particularly
upon the million Indian citizens living mainly in the districts of
Central and
Lower
Burma
.
Their position, indeed the position of Indians in all parts of
Burma
,
has never been fully appreciated except by those who have had
prolonged and intimate contact with the Indian community. Up to the
time of the Japanese occupation they constituted an important
enclave in the country's economic life, their industry and attention
to business constituting a source of wealth out of all proportion to
their numbers.
The Burmans have always regarded the
Indian in their midst with envy, amounting sometimes to resentment ;
nor in times of political or social tension
has
the Indian felt himself entirely at home in Burma, even though he
and his forefathers may have been resident there for several
generations. Minority problems are not entirely
confined to
Europe
, and the presence of a prosperous
Indian community has always constituted
Burma
's
minority problem number one. In the circumstances that prevailed in
January and February 1942 it was but natural that the first impulse
to leave the country, which was by then partially occupied by the
enemy, should be felt by the Indian minority.
Whilst there was still time many thousands left by sea for
Calcutta
and
Chittagong
,
but with the progressive deterioration of dock facilities at
Rangoon
and its subsequent fall, further
evacuation by sea became impossible.
Thereafter some refugees, mostly Indians,
essayed the journey to India by the southern coastal belt, following
the line between the mountains and the sea entering India via Cox
Bazaar and Chittagong, passing over country which was later to
become the scene of a good deal of bloody fighting between ourselves
and the Japs.
These refugees suffered a good deal
of privation, a heavy incidence of disease and consequently a high
death rate. This particular exodus forms no part of story, for such
succour as they received was from purely official sources ; but
their, misfortunes were a precursor of bigger thing, to come, and
one may be permitted to speculate whether ill lessons of the
occasion were fully assimilated by those in authority in India and
Burma who were soon to be faced with the necessity of making plans
upon the success of which thousands of lives
were
to depend.
For soon after the sea routes were finally close and this one
ill-starred land attempt to leave the country ha proceeded on its
way, there began the great trek northward an unnumbered multitude.
The great majority were
India
seeking escape to their own country, by means of little known Iand
routes
into
Assam
.
But not all were so disposed, and a considerable percentage
of the vast concourse that made its way northwards were men and
women of all communities who anticipated that, at some point or
another, the Japanese armies would be contained and that part of
Burma would be held and the invasion brought to a standstill. I am not in a position to state whether this expectation was
ever seriously encouraged by the civil or military authorities on
the spot, but for many it undoubtedly kept alive the flame of hope
which was to flicker so tremulously on many occasions before the
end of the long, or the last, journey was reached.
Movement inside Burma itself was
conditioned by the fact that the country's main means of
communications-road, river and rail-all run from south to north ;
and after the limited possibilities of the one exiguous east-west
land route via the Arakan had been finally exhausted, refugees in
their thousands were driven northward in the wake of the swirling
tide of battle, the fortunes of which continued to go steadily
against the Allied armies. The focal points towards which this great
concentration of humanity advanced in a swelling stream were the
towns of
Mandalay
,
Kalewa, Bhamo and Myitkyina in
Upper Burma
,
all of which at varying dates in May 1942 fell into enemy hands.
By the middle of May 1942 the Japanese
were in control of all these jumping off places, and soon every gap
in the frontier belt of hills which looked like offering an escape
to India became a refugee route, even those in the far north-east
which were known to be hazardous in the extreme. But, in order to
reach these points of dubious vantage to make the main journey
across some hundreds of miles of no man's land into
India
,
considerable trials had first to be overcome in
Burma
itself.
Over this first section of the long pilgrimage the Indian
refugees, for the most part poor, ignorant and defenceless, seem to have suffered most.
A number of writers, who saw their plight at first hand, have
testified to their pitiable condition.
Mr. O. D. Gallagher in his highly controversial Retreat
In The East describes how thousands of people without money or
influence trekked the long road north, suffering great hardships-the
small wage-earning Indian particularly, for not only was he short of
every necessity, but he lived in fear, sometimes rightly, often
wrongly, that he would be set upon, by the Burmese. All had the same
blind hope of reaching their homeland,
India
.
Many got there, despite all.
" I saw one such caravan numbering about 4,000
men, women and children. They
could move only a few miles a day as their pace was regulated by
that of the oxen who pulled their cumbersome carts.
I have seen refugees in
Spain
,
China
and
France
, but none to
compare with these people . . . . They said the Burmese were too
cowardly to attack them by day, but sneaked round the edges of the
caravan under cover of the night, and silently slew with knives
those unlucky enough to be remote from the main body. They then
plundered the carts of the slain.
"
They searched among their crowded members for someone who could
speak English, and produced a man who had been a tailor. Through him
they enquired about the best road to take to India.They had about 1,200
miles to walk They were so anxious
to find someone to take an interest in them and their plight."
In Red Moon Rising George Rodger, a first class cameraman, journeying
from north to south says
" As we went
further south, the bands of refugees became thicker on the road
until we found them struggling northwards in a continual stream Dock
labourers, coolies and bearers plodded
side by side with clerks and government servants, their
womenfolk and children trailing beside them. In endless streams they
came-women tired out and hobbling along by the aid of sticks; men
carrying babies in panniers from their shoulders, others carrying
small children on their backs. Some of the women carried dry wood on
their heads for, with such a large party, it was not easy to find
fuel for their fires wherever they stopped for the night, and it was
not safe to forage in the jungle where Burmans might be lurking. . .
Most of them were already lame. The older people were obviously
exhausted. Some of the men pulled heavy carts in which their women
and children perched on top of their household goods, but the
majority had been unable to bring more than a small bundle of
personal things with them. I was struck by the incongruity of the
articles that some of them had chosen to salvage from their homes,
when nothing but the most indispensable things
could
be carried. One
man had a cross-cut saw over his shoulder, another lugged along a
large tom-tom, several had umbrellas, and one carried a bicycle with
the back wheel missing"
.
.
.
So
much for the general conditions in which the Indian refugees
travelled to the outposts from which the supreme bid for safety was to be made.
By the time the last stage of the
journey
began many were already very near to mental and physical exhaustion. But they were not all.
I asked an Indian Army officer, who served in a forward relief camp
organised the Indian Tea Association from May to July, and to whom I
am indebted
for much background information, for an analysis of the national
and social groups of refugees who passed through his hands.
The tragic and motley crowd consisted of British a Indian subjects,
comprising Britons, Gurkhas, mixed Indian stragglers from the Army
in Burma, South-Indians, Ooriya , Anglo-Indians and Anglo-Burmans as
well as some Italians, Pole, Germans,
Swedes, Jamaicans, West Indian negroes, Chinese troops and even one
Red Indian. These latter categories were not' numerically
important, but they serve to illustrate the truly catholic nature of
the mission in which the Indian tea industry ultimately found itself
engaged.
All
the authorities on the subject, as well as participants in the
relief operations on the Indian side of the frontier, are agreed
that one of the continuing handicaps in the situation was the
absence of reliable information from
Burma
as to the scope and extent of the refugee problem. The lack of even
the most approximate statistics imposed a very serious limitation on
all kinds of forward planning.
I shall have occasion to refer to this matter again.
I mention it at this early stage in the narrative because,
even now, estimates vary very considerably as to the precise state
of affairs in
Upper Burma
by the time the exodus northward had come to a halt, and the
refugees began to turn west to
India
.
I have briefly tried to show how the bulk of the lower class
Indian refugees fared in the first lap of the journey inside
Burma
itself. In order, however, to
get the picture into proper focus it is necessary to go back on our
tracks a little, in order to see how and in what circumstances
Indians of other classes, and the great mixed population referred to
above, essayed a journey which was to prove a most exacting test of
the physical and moral qualities of those who undertook it.
By the beginning of May 1942 everyone: who intended to leave
Burma
had already gone, or had headed north for
Mandalay
and Myitkyina.
Those who failed to get away in the early stages of the
exodus had followed, from south to north, the two chief congested
lines of communication whose principal road, rail and river routes
ran roughly along the lines of the
Irrawaddy
and Sittang valleys.
Mandalay
had fallen to Japanese forces on May ist.
Up to this date the
Chindwin
Valley
had been the main route to Manipur and safety, and the small town of
Kalewa
on that river had been the collecting centre of refugees hoping to
use the Tamu route into Imphal. On May i2th Kalewa was abandoned,
and soon afterwards Bhamo and Myitkyina fell to the enemy. But for
those in the extreme north it was hoped to arrange a mass air
evacuation to
India
before the monsoon rains finally broke, and in this expectation
thousands of refugees concentrated on Myitkyina.
As to a large part, they consisted of men and women who had stayed
at subordinate posts in the civil and administrative life of
Burma
to the last possible moment. Many of them, in fact, represented the
backbone of such resistance as the civil government of the country
had been able to offer against the advancing enemy. The resources of
the small town of
Myitkyina
itself were quite inadequate to the tremendous influx of refugees of
all communities from
Lower
Burma
.
Every available nook and corner was occupied by waiting men,
women and children, and those who were unable to find shelter of the
ordinary kind were put into camps or housed in schools and other
public buildings, whilst other groups lived in the jungles on the
outskirts of the town. For many it was a grim curtain raiser to
greater hardships to come, as they waited anxiously for a plane to
take them on to what they hoped would be the last lap of their
journey. The devil was indeed hard on the tails of the hindmost ;
and it is one of the ironies of the Burma campaign of 1942 that
those who stayed to the last at their posts, in support of the civil
and military authorities, stood the poorest chance of getting away
to India and, if they were successful in so doing, only reached
safety by battling their way through conditons such as the earlier
refugees never experienced.
As long as the Douglas transports were able to run to and
from India they crammed as many as 75 into each machine, but even at
this dangerous rate of transportation the situation in Myitkyina
could not be appreciably relieved, unless many more aircraft were
made available and the proposition tackled in a big way. I have
been told that a mass air evacuation of Myitkyina was planned for
May 15th, but there is no record in support of this.
Myitkyina aerodrome was bombed twice on May 6th and put out
of action, and on May 7th it was evacuated.
Just as the first party was ready to leave on that date
Myitkyina was again bombed. On
this occasion the town, as well as the aerodrome, was the target and
vicious fires swept the place. The Japs entered on May 8th. A
further decisive calamity was the breaking of the monsoon several
days before due date. From that moment evacuation by air was
severely curtailed, and finally petered out. Facing up to the new
and
almost
desperate situation, the authorities were obliged to tell: the
hapless congregation that their only hope lay in making their: way
to
India
on foot. The
effect of this last injunction can be better imagined
than described. Virtually
the end of any organised government in Burma, it was a shattering
blow to thousands of already sorely tried children of the Raj, many
of whom, be it said, who had spurned earlier chances to get away as
long as there was a job of work to be done in defence of the
country.
Looking
back objectively on those last fateful days in Upper Burma, it is a
reasonable assumption that the vast majority of the refugees, who
were to pass through the Indian Tea Association's relief
organisation in the next few months, had already been subjected to
a profound physical and psychological strain before they, began the
last, and more arduous, stage of the journey to India.' The trek to
Upper Burma
in the van of a hostile army,
sporadic enemy bombing, the frequent difficulty of finding food and
shelter and the climatic conditions of the fag end of the hot weather
combined to create conditions that were a challenge to the stoutest
heart and a tax on the strongest physique. It was at the end of such
an experience that they had to bring themselves to face the sternest
test of all.
Reading the diaries, letters and other personal documents
that have been placed at my disposal for the purposes of writing
this book, I have sometimes wondered whether, having regard to the
purely humanitarian aspect of the matter, such an evacuation as was
to ensue presents many advantages over 'staying put', even in the
presence of such an unpredictable and barbarous foe as the Jap.
And yet, on second thoughts, I realise that had I been in the
same predicament and faced with the same choice, I would have made
the same decision as did these leaderless, and almost lost,
thousands. The practically universal ignorance of the distance and
the rigours of the journey to
India
was, in a sense, a blessing in disguise; for it served to provide
the kind of hopefulness that is an asset at the beginning of a
hazardous journey. But there is
no doubt that both in mind and in body many of them were
ill-prepared for what was to come.
To take only one simple example, of what I mean many of the
refugees who reached
Upper Burma
were really only prepared to be flown out of the country.
Before
reaching a place like Myitkyina, from where they had expected
evacuation by air, they had already discarded most of their useful
clothing, retaining their most expensive kit on their backs and such
things as papers, jewelry and money which could be conveniently
taken by plane.
By the time they found that evacuation by air was impossible
there was nothing in the shape of blankets, boots or other necessary
articles to be bought in the bazaars of
Upper Burma
, and they started to foot it to
India
in the expensive, but not necessarily utilitarian, clothing they had
chosen for the promised air trip. That is the reason why many
women ultimately arrived in such flimsy garments, and not a few were
found dead at lonely spots in the Naga country, clad in the fine
evening gowns which in happier times they had purchased in
London
,
Calcutta
or
Rangoon
.
In the proper sense of the words, it was quite impossible to
integrate and organise
the
great bulk of the refugees
who came over the northern land routes.
Even if there had been time, it is doubtful if stores and
equipment in the necessary quantities were available for the
purpose in Upper Burma, and as I have said before, in the mass, the
refugees were leaderless and largely without guidance, at least
until they reached the outposts of the Indian relief organisation
which had been thrown as far as possible across the no-man's land of
the Indo-Burma border of that
time.
The big concentration of refugees at Myitkyina, and other
places, broke up into small parties for the journey, and human
nature being what it is these parties automatically threw up their
own leader or leaders ; though it is doubtful if the latter were as
important to the success of the enterprise as the odd member of a
party who could cook decently. Those parties which included a man or
a woman whose cooking, however primitive, was also wholesome and
clean came through best and with least demoralisation.
For, as we shall see, malnutrition was the basis of almost
all the illness which was to take such a heavy toll in death and
suffering of those who had now turned faces to the Indian horizon.
*****************************************
Return to
top
December 17th 2004
STILLWELL
ROAD
DILEMMA
This is an
article from the Assam Tribune kindly forwarded by Gordon Simpson and we thank
him
A very
interesting piece of history plus the interpretations and up to date commercial
comments by a former
Deputy Commissioner --H.N.Das
Lord
Louis Mountbatten, as the Supreme Commander of the
South
East Asia
Command (1943-45),
submitted
a detailed "Report to the Combined Chiefs of Staff' of the Allied Army at
the end of the Second World War. In this valuable chronicle of those times he
has left behind nuggets of information about
Assam
and
the neighbouring countries. It is replete with maps, charts, annexures and
appendixes 1
I
got hold of this book in November, 1967, when I was at Dhubri as Deputy
Commissioner of the erstwhile united Goalpara district. Then I plodded through
the nearly 300 pages of this double column small print book at the instance of
late SK Banerjee, the then Commissioner of North Bengal Division, stationed at
Jalpaiguri. My early childhood memories of wartime Guwahati came zooming
back
to me. One of the scenes fixed in my mind was that of the handsome, dignified
and uniformed Mountbatten striding imperially into the Arya Natya Hall
(presently AMSA house) at Sukleswar, Guwahati. This place was then used by the
Allied Army. Our headmaster late Bhairab Chandra Adhikary had thoughtfully lined
up the children near the windows of our now demolished primary school building,
which was next to the Hall, so that we could have a full view of the momentous
event. We had then heard that Mountbatten used to pass through Guwahati quite
often. That probably is the reason why his knowledge about this area was so
deep. During his last visit to Guwahati in 1947, when he was Viceroy of '
India
,
Mountbatten addressed a public meeting in the Judge's Field. He spoke quite
deprecatingly of
Burma
and
said that
Burma
will never be a great country.
In
the present book Mountbatten has written as follows: "On the 27th January
(1945), the
Ledo
Road
was
opened. 38 Chinese Division of NCAC established contact with Chinese Army Group
of the Yunnan Force on the old Burma Road at Mong Yu, on the Burma side of the
frontier about 20 miles south of Wanting. On the following day, the first
American Chinese convoy from
India
, led
by Brigadier-General Pick, crossed the frontier with appropriate
rejoicings." The map shows Wanting, on the Chinese side, to be 483 miles
from Ledo. On the Burmese side the farthest post of Namhkan was 444 miles from
Ledo. The last post on the Indian side was Loglai, 51 miles from Ledo, which
connected the nearest post of
Tazaplug
Ga
on
the Burmese side which was 80 miles from Ledo. The most important place on this
road in
Burma
,
Myitkyina, which was a Railway, Road and Pipeline junction and a big market, was
253 miles from Ledo.
Mountbatten
had a running fight with his American Deputy, the redoubtable 'vneager Joe',
whose real name was General JW Stilwell. Both of them were great soldiers. But
they had different ideas and points of view. Anecdotes and incidents regarding
their differences of opinion cover many pages of the book. Mountbatten had
personally aired his complaint against Stilwell to the
US
leaders. In the book Mountbatten notes with dismay that his Deputy used to
communicate with
Washington
directly "'without informing me of the fact."
Stilwell
held several simultaneous appointments including that of Chief of Staff to
Generalissimo Chiang Kei Shek, the supreme leader and President of
China
..
This relationship also soured. As observed by historian John Keegan in his book
on 'the Second World War" Stilwell
"displayed
an impatience with the Chinese that was exceeded in degree only by his rudeness
towards the British with whom he was co-operating." Keegan further notes
that Chiang had ultimately "tired of Stilwell's lecturing" and that
"the vitriolic Stilwell, who had definitely fallen out in turn with the
British, the Chinese and ultimately President Roosevelt" had to be removed
by
Roosevelt
on
October
18,1944
.
But
both Mountbatten and Chiang were magnanimous and broad-minded
enough
to appreciate Stilwell's contributions. Mountbatten records in his
book
as follows: "The Generalissimo christened the road the "
Stilwell
Road
,"
as a compliment to the man who had the courage and the skill to push through the
project and who until three months previously had commanded the forces that had
carried it out."
It
is relevant to note that the enigmatic Chiang had vehemently opposed US
President Roosevelt's proposal to put Stilwell "in direct command of all
Chinese troops, both Nationalist and Communists" because he felt that it
would be an insult to
China
. What
is surprising is that on that occasion Mao Zedong had supported
Roosevelt
and
declared that by this behaviour of refusing the American proposal Chiang: had
"forfeited his position as leader of the war of resistance against
Japan
".
This is really puzzling. But Mao probably wanted to
see,
an end to Chiang's corruption. He must have hoped
that
Stilwell would stop corruption in the Chinese Army at least.
The
Stilwell
Road
is a
marvel of engineering excellence. It was built at such a huge expense because it
was important for the Allied powers to win the war against
Japan
. By
making direct supplies possible to
China
it
assisted in the war effort.
in that theatre also As mentioned, by Mountbatten the
Americans were "thinking solely in terms of
China
and
of
Northern
Burma
as a supply
route
to
China
."
They were "primarily interested" in the "permanent security of
the
Ledo
Road
."
For that purpose they ordered the "pushing ahead with opening the land
route into
China
as
fast as possible." The Americans believed that the "main
advantage" of the
Stilwell
Road
lay
"not in the actual tonnage the road would carry, but in greatly increased
supplies of petrol (gasoline) which the pipe line, running parallel with the
road, would bring to the China-based air forces." The map shows three
pipelines. One US pipeline ran from
Calcutta
(then) to Tinsukia and then on to Mogaung near Myitkyina. The second
US
pipeline ran from
Chittagong
to
Dimapur and Tinsukia. These two then jointly ran from Tinsukia to Bhamo in
Burma
and
to Chanyi and Luliang beyond
Kunming
in
China
. The
British pipeline ran from
Chittagong
to
Dimapur and then to Tamu on the
Burma
border. What a configuration? And the effort and the expenses?
Chiang
and his wife Sung Li had convinced Stilwell to build the road so that the petrol
pipelines could be played and protected.
China
needed the petrol for the Allied airborne forces operating against the Japanese
from airfields in
Assam
,
Burma
and
Yunnan
. When
Sung Li died at the age of 106 at
New
York
on
the night of
October
23, 2003
, I
happened to be in
Taipei
. From
talks with Chinese friends and the newspaper reports in the next couple of days
I realised how important Sung Li and Chiang were for Chinese and world history.
Sung Li inspired Chiang all through his chequered career. Sung Li was one of the
most powerful women of all times. Born to one of the richest families of
Shanghai
she
was a rang beauty in her youth both in
China
and
in the
USA
,
where she had her education. Michael Calvert notes in his memorable biography of
Field Marshal William Joseph Slim that she "had great influence in the
United
States
"
and that she "hated the British." Slim had campaigned simultaneously
with Mountbatten against the Japanese General Renya Mutaguchi's army and
conquered
Burma
jointly. After Chiang won the war against
Japan
he
had to retreat to
Taiwan
in
1949 when
China
was
taken over by the People's Liberation Army of Mao. But he and Sung Li together
built up
Taiwan
as
one of the richest countries in the world. It has a per capita income which is
seven times that of
India
.
I
got my first opportunity to travel on the
Stilwell
Road
only
after I joined at Dibrugarh as the Deputy Commissioner of the earstwhile united
Lakhimpur district in late 1969.,It is then that I realised what an engineering
feat that the Allied Army accomplished in building the road. But the scenery was
breathtaking The flora-was
exquisite- I had never seen such beauty and variety.in
orchids anywhere... else, not even in the North East of Thailand where thousands
of Americans go to see
orchids in the hills near Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai, and Nong
Khai
Long
before Stilwell built the road there was some path linking
China
's
Yunnan
province and
Assam
. In
the Comprehensive History of Assam,.edited by late HK Borpujori, it has been
recorded as follows: "It appears that there had been an old route from
south-western
Yunnan
to
Assam
. The
Tais possessed knowledge of the topography through which the route passed and
also of the Brahmaputra.valley.." In_ any case the Tais (Ahoms) came to
Assam
crossing the Patkai range of mountains from an area on the Burma-China border.
There
is a recent move to re-open the nearly 1,800 kms, long
Stilwell
Road
. On
the Chinese side it is now a Super Expressway stretching 1,150 kms. On the
Myanmarese (
Burma
) side
out of 525 kms the road is reportedly bad only for 160 kms, which can be
repaired and rebuilt. On the Indian side, 71 kms from l.edo in
Assam
to
Pheng Sau in Aruanchal Pradesh, are covered by a
National
Highway
. Only
a small portion from Pheng Sau to the Myonmarese border will need complete
rebuilding.
It
is true that international trade can be fostered if the road is reopened. But it
will be necessary to ensure that
India
will
gain from such trade. I have toured extensively across
China
during September October, 2002.
I have
seen what tremendous economic development is taking place in that country. One
believe how
China
is
being transformed into an economic superpower has to see to. In 1990
India
and
China
had
the same per capita income. In 2002
China
’s
per capita income became double that of
India
. It
is going further ahead. Can
India
compete with that country? Already smuggled Chinese goods abound in the markets
of the North Eastern states. These appear to be low-priced and of better
quality.
Then
there is the question of insurgency. The jungles on both sides of the
Stilwell
Road
provide excellent hideouts for the Naga, Manipuri and Assamese insurgents. A
super highway will provide easier passage not only to the insurgents but also to
the drug mafia from the nearby golden triangle.
All
these questions will need deeper and detailed examination before any final
decision is taken.
H.N.Das
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