The following is a lengthy extract from a book no longer available, and which shows just what the K.O.Y.L.I. went through in the retreat from Burma

HISTORY OF 

THE KING'S OWN

YORKSHIRE LIGHT INFANTRY
From 1919 to 1942

By

Lieut.- Colonel Walter Hingston

Maps and Illustrations by

Major J.R. Dugmore

TRAGEDY IN BURMA. PART I

    So far this history has told only of retreats. It has told of a glorious fighting rearguard and of two other retreats which at least had the merit that most of the men were saved. Now here is a tale of unrelieved disaster; a story so sad that the accounts of endurance, of desperate bravery, of comradeship, serve only to underline the bitterness of the defeat. Burma 1942 carries no shame for the King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, in fact there is much that will be remembered with pride, yet it is not a cam­paign that can ever be regarded with glory in years to come.

The 2nd K.O.Y.L.I. was in Burma when war broke out in 1939, and for two long years the battalion waited in that back­water. The frustration of the autumn of 1939, when it was feared that the war would be over before ever the battalion had a chance to fire a shot, changed to the bitterness of 1940, when all longed to be at home to help the country in its great danger. With 1941 came the realization that the shadow of Japan was becoming ever darker and that the 2nd Battalion would fight its war far from home in a country of mountains, jungle, and mighty rivers, of disease and burning heat.

On August 23, 1941 the battalion mobilised and moved from Maymyo to Taunggyi. At the time the 2nd K.O.Y.L.I. was generally admitted to be one of the best British units in the East, although its role in Burma had been primarily for use in aid of the civil power. That it was such a fine battalion was largely due to Lieut. Colonel T. B. Butt, who had been commanding officer from 1936 to 1939. He had trained a fine set of officers, while the warrant officers and N.C.Os. were second to none. Although by 1941 many of the Regular officers, N.C.Os., and men had been sent home to help with the formation and training of the new units, the incoming officers and men were excellent material. They rapidly absorbed the spirit and knowledge of the older hands. Yet, although the 2nd K.O.Y.L.I. was a fine unit, neither by its arming nor equipment nor even altogether by its training was it fitted for the peculiar type of warfare it was to be called upon to fight.

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Modern arms, transport, and equipment were woefully short in Burma in 1941. Before and, in particular, after the campaign of 1942 many officers felt bitter at the lack of proper equipment in the battalion; in their bitterness they were inclined to blame the commanders and staff in Burma and the Far East. Yet it was not the fault of the Commander-in-Chief in Singapore nor of the General Officer Commanding in Burma. Weapons, ammunition, and equipment were as gold in 1941 when Britain was fighting the war alone. The forces at home had to be equipped to resist in­vasion. In the Middle East, General Sir Archibald Wavell and later General Sir Claude Auchinleck had been performing miracles with few men and meagre equipment, and clearly they had to be given high priority for the supplies making the long trip round the Cape. Of the mere trickle of weapons, transport, and all the countless items required to equip a modern army that reached the Far East, most had to be reserved for the forces defending Malaya and the vital fortress of Singapore. So the troops in Burma were the very last to receive the new supplies being turned out by industry in Great Britain at an ever-increasing rate.

Throughout this history of the K.O.Y.L.I. in Burma the pic­ture that must continually be borne in mind is of a unit, fit and keen, but deficient in practically all the most important items of equipment required for jungle warfare. For example the battalion went into action without steel helmets. This may not seem a serious deficiency especially in a tropical climate, but the “tin hat” is good for morale particularly for troops going into action for the first time. Furthermore, the Japanese used a small calibre ~256 bullet which, it was later found, was sometimes deflected by the high quality steel of the British helmet. During the campaign there were numerous occasions when the K.O.Y.L.I. had to fight the enemy in the open, because of lack of tools for digging, and steel helmets would undoubtedly have saved a good many lives on these occasions.

An entrenching tool to be carried by each man is a vital necessity for jungle warfare, yet none was supplied. The whole battalion was provided with only ninety-six shovels and forty­eight picks of the heavy regulation pattern and there were no replacements. As there were only improvised methods of carrying these tools many were lost during the first engagement. Similarly,

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all troops moving in the jungle require some sort of heavy knife such as the matchet which has always been provided for West African troops for bush warfare. A few locally made Burmese dahs were issued but of such poor quality that the blade as often as not broke after a few hacks at a bamboo. During the fighting, however, most of the Yorkshiremen managed to get hold of a Gurkha kukri or a good dah. A third essential for the jungle is a good compass, yet only twenty were issued to the whole battalion.

Amongst major items such as weapons and transport the story is the same. The mortar is a most valuable weapon owing to the small target that it presents, its maneuvrability, high angle of fire and accuracy, yet no 2-inch mortars were issued. Four 3-inch mortars were received; so that these valuable weapons might be used to the best advantage, Colonel Becher allowed the Mortar Officer, Captain R. A. B. Howden, a free choice of non-commis­sioned officers. Yet there was no satisfactory method of carrying either the mortars or the ammunition.

The battalion throughout its tour in the east had always prided itself on a high standard of shooting, but no snipers’ rifles were received. Again, the machine-gun platoon, armed with the .3O3 Vickers machine-gun, had its guns taken away just before the battalion moved south to enter the war; the guns were given to a Burmese unit on aerodrome defence and, it is believed, were never used against the enemy at all. There were no wireless sets, no mines and no material for making booby traps; there should have been fifty-two lorries and trucks issued to the battalion, but only seven were received and, as drivers had to be trained on them, they were in a bad state of repair by the time they were required in action. The carrier platoon should have had ten armoured Bren carriers, but at the time was away in India being trained. On their return, half-way through the campaign, the platoon was made into the brigade carrier platoon under Captain J. T. A. Wilson.

And so this sorry tale could be continued to cover practically every item which should have been in the possession of the battalion. No one was to blame. Circumstances ruled that the units in Burma were to be gravely handicapped by lack of weapons and equipment.

In the autumn of 1941 the K.O.Y.L.I. were, therefore, not equipped in a manner suitable for war against a first-class enemy

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in the east. Nor did their training fit them properly for the peculiar type of warfare that was fought in the jungle. Few officers of either the British or Indian Armies appear to have discovered how warfare should be conducted in thick jungle, although much consideration was undoubtedly given to the sub­ject. The British Intelligence Service appeared to have absolutely no knowledge of how the Japanese were trained or if they had developed any special tactics for jungle warfare. In fact, one

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intelligence report circulated to units stressed that, although the Japanese would be very fine fighters by day, they would not dream of moving about or fighting by night. Such farcically in­accurate reports, however, were no excuse for the faulty tactical ideas that existed in the armies of Burma and Malaya. The blame for the lack of critical thought must lie primarily with the com­manders and staffs at headquarters in Malaya and Burma, and of higher formations; yet creative thought is not the prerogative of the staff officer. Commanders of battalions, companies and even platoons should have realised that the theory of warfare in the jungle as taught just would not work and should have made their views known even at the risk of losing their command. By doing so they might at very least have saved the lives of some of their men. It is probable that the lack of weapons and equipment helped to stop constructive thought; the excuse of “when we get…..” was so easy to hand that thought of whether the tactics taught were actually suitable was often not considered.

The 2nd K.O.Y.L.I., when mobilised under the command of Lieut. Colonel A. W. Becher, M.C., were undoubtedly a very fit battalion. Long route marches under arduous conditions, strenu­ous schemes in the jungles round Maymyo and plenty of hard games had made the officers and men fit, hard and ready to, the field at any time. Sections, platoons, and companies were thoroughly trained in all the weapons they possessed and knew how to move as units and on their own. They were, perhaps, not good enough at silent movement in the jungle at night, but a very, large number of men as well as practically all N.C.Os. had been trained in the use of the compass. It was an efficient and confident battalion that moved to Taunggyi and, on the rolling downland of the Shan States, began to train—for open warfare.

During the summer of 1941 the Japanese had gained control of Indo-China and Siam, both of which had common frontiers with Burma on the east. Geographically this is a curious part of the world. Burma consists of the plain of the River Irrawaddy, sur­rounded on three sides by high mountains, with a narrow strip running down the Malayan peninsula. At that time no railways and only two roads crossed the 2500 miles of frontier. One was the famous Burma Road from Mandalay to Lashio and then on for 800 miles to Chungking in China. The other ran from the railway

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at Thazi to Taunggyi, crossed the River Saiween at Takaw and continued to railhead in Siam at Chiang-Mai some 200 miles across the frontier.

The frontiers of Burma are so difficult to cross that it was con­sidered that command of the sea was all that was required to make the country secure from large-scale invasion. So long as Singapore was held and the Royal Navy controlled the Bay of Bengal there appeared to be no need to maintain a large army in the country, even with the threat of increasing Japanese forces in Siam; anyhow, in 1941 every man and every piece of equipment was most urgently required elsewhere, and so the garrison was pitiably weak. It is highly unlikely that the Japanese would have dared to cross the Salween if the British had not lost command of the Bay of Bengal.

There were, however, two land routes by which the Japanese could cross into Burma from Siam. East of Rangoon, at the mouth of the Salween, lies Moulmein which can be reached from Bangkok and Rahaeng over the Kawkareik Pass. The other route is the road from Chiang-Mai to Taunggyi on which the K.O.Y.L.I. were stationed. It was, however, on Moulmein that the Japanese attack was to be directed.

In the Gorges of the Salween

Taunggyi lies among rolling hills about 6000 feet high and the battalion started training for the type of war likely to be fought for possession of a single road in hilly open country. It was un­fortunate that this training was not to prove of much value for the greater part of the K.O.Y.L.I.’s fighting took place at sea level and in dense jungle. Throughout September and October the rain fell constantly and in their thin khaki drill the men often felt the cold. Fortunately there was little malaria.

On December 1 the battalion moved to Loilem nearer the frontier and on arrival news came that relations with Japan were critical; out in their company camps the officers and men were keyed to that state of tense excitement that always possesses soldiers when war appears imminent and inevitable.

It was a lovely morning with a nip in the air when, on Decem­ber 9, 1941, Lieut. Colonel C. J. Keegan, who had taken over command, walked up from his tent to breakfast. He was met by

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Major G. T. Chadwick, the second in command, with the news of Pearl Harbour. The war with Japan had begun. Next day orders came for the K.O.Y.L.I. to move to Takaw on the Salween.

The Salween is one of the very great rivers of the world and it has the unenviable distinction of being probably the most useless of them. For all except the last hundred miles to its mouth, it cuts its way through high mountains. Because of its speed and many rapids it is useless for navigation; there is no level ground on either side so it cannot be used for irrigation. Few people live along its course, no great trade routes follow it or cross it, and this huge mass of water pours relentlessly down to the sea without being of any use to man.

At Takaw the Salween is only 800 feet above sea level, but two miles away on either side are mountain peaks 7000 feet high. It is like looking down into a great slit in the earth’s surface, a great dark chasm at the bottom of which can occasionally be seen the glint of the water. The river at that point is only 400 yards wide, running with a smooth mighty rush almost frightening in its enormous power.

This was a place where a couple of battalions could easily hold a division, and the K.O.Y.L.I. set to work to dig positions on the precipitous western side for two battalions. A gang of 500 coolies assisted with the work. “C” Company (Capt. H. M. Green) was, however, given a special task. Across the river was an amazing gorge; it cut through the mountains at right angles due east for-fourteen miles and it was up this gorge that the road ran. The sides rose practically vertical for 2000 feet or more. Although within the tropics, the direct rays of the sun only reached the bottom for a short period at midday each day.

Down in this gloomy canyon “C” Company constructed a series of rearguard positions over a distance of eight miles. The road was mined and prepared for demolition by a detachment of Bengal sappers and miners. Plans were made to block the small river by blowing down huge masses of overhanging rock. All the stores, men, and vehicles for this work had to be carried across the Salween on the ferry, which consisted of two fiat bottomed boats lashed together and capable of carrying one 3-ton lorry at a time. It was attached by a cable to a wire rope, suspended high across the river from bank to bank. So great was the force of the

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current that as the ferry moved crab-like across the river, bow waves broke on either side as with a destroyer moving at full speed.

Christmas 1941 was spent amid this overpowering scenery, but the C.O. now had serious worries. There had been no sign of the Japanese, but all the same men were being lost at an alarming rate. The valley was a death trap of malaria and Colonel Keegan had been warned that the battalion would probably be decimated. It was a risk that had to be accepted, but although only one man died, a considerable number were evacuated to hospital. Captain Clarke, the Medical Officer, opened a temporary hospital in the battalion area and himself treated large numbers of men to avoid having to evacuate them. An even more serious aspect was that a great proportion of the battalion was infected, and went down with malaria several weeks later as resistance to the illness became reduced by the strain of fighting and marching.

While all remained quiet atTakaw it soon became clear that the Japanese were preparing to advance into Burma by the southern route. The enemy came flooding across the Kawkareik Pass, brushing aside the meagre garrison of Indian troops. Air-raids, in which anti-personnel bombs had been used with terrible effect on the unsuspecting population, had utterly disorganised Rangoon. More than half a million Indians had started their fight to India, a march that was to end in death for many tens of thousands. It was against this background that on January 23, the K.O.Y.L.I. received orders to leave Takaw and move south.

The journey began at once and continued for eight days, partly in lorries and partly by train. The C.0. had been told that the battalion was to go straight through to Martaban where it would be ferried across the Salween to Moulmein, which was under fierce attack by the Japanese. On January 31, however, the train was stopped at Hninpale, a small station on the east side of the Gulf of Martaban and Colonel Keegan was ordered to de-train, for Moulmein had already fallen.

The following thirty-six hours must have been highly depres­sing for a battalion about to go into action for the first time. Train after train passed through the station filled with wounded and men who had lost their units. It should be realised that the 2nd K. O.Y. L.I. were in a different situation from other British units

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who later came to Burma and the Far East. Burma had been the home of many of the men for several years. Wives and children had been left behind in Maymyo ever since August, looked after by a small detachment of sick men under the command of Lieutenant C. A. Fox. Although the majority of men had not got wives with them in Burma, many of the unmarried men had Anglo-Indian and Burmese girl friends. As the battalion moved into the war area they saw all too plainly the collapse of the civil administra­tion and the helplessness of the refugees. The only way out of Burma was by ship from Rangoon and that route was rapidly being closed It was only natural that officers and men should be intensely anxious about their women and children How the married families of the battalion were got out of Burma could almost be a story by itself A few went by ship before Rangoon fell Some were flown out from Myitkyina in the far north under circumstances of the gravest danger Most were carried in lorries along the dusty roads and tracks from Mandalay to the Chindwin and thence trekked on foot into India. This was a journey of the utmost horror, along tracks infested with malaria and cholera, and lined by the rotting bodies of many thousands of Indian refugees. As soon as the road in India was reached they were hurried first by lorry and then by train to hill stations but not all of them lived to reach safety and comfort. It should therefore be

realised that many officers and men went through this campaign in a state of terrible anxiety for their womenfolk, possibly greater -than any other British unit had to suffer in the war.

Into Battle

At Hninpale the K.0.Y.L.I. had definitely reached the war area. There were officers and men of Indian, Gurkha, and Burmese units to be seen, but none of any other British unit. At this time there were only two British battalions in Burma; the 2nd Gloucestershire Regiment remained in Rangoon until the port was finally evacuated and so the 2nd K.O.Y.L.I. was the first British unit to go into action in Burma. Shortly before leaving Takaw the battalion had been issued with the felt hats normally worn by the Gurkhas and were thus the first British unit to wear

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the sensible headgear which later was to become the normal wear for the 14th Army and all British troops in the East.

The battles that were now to be fought took place along the coastal plain on the east side of the Gulf of Martaban. The country is an odd mixture. On the sea side of the road and railway it is on the whole fairly open. From the villages there is often an extensive view over dead flat paddy fields, but always the view is bounded by what appears to be dense forest with well-defined edges. These wooded areas are actually islands in the flat paddy fields; they are villages, thickly planted with trees, and built on land a few feet higher than the surrounding level ground, to avoid the floods of summer and autumn. On the inland side of the railway, however, the terrain changes rapidly. As the land rises and becomes more uneven, the country changes from wooded islands in a sea of open paddy fields to isolated patches of paddy fields in an ocean of jungle. At this time of year the brilliant tropical sun shines down all and every day, intensely hot in the middle of the day; the nights are clear, starlit and fairly cool, noisy with myriads of insects, bats, and nocturnal birds. This was the setting for the first stage in the campaign of Burma.

By the end of January there were no British forces left on the eastern bank of the Salween, which at Moulmein is a great placid stream between two and three miles wide. The Japanese were known to be building up their forces and there were large con­centrations opposite Martaban and Pa-an. The only strategic road in Burma had been built along the west bank of the Salween between these two towns.

The British on the other hand were pathetically weak. The artillery consisted of three mountain batteries armed with 37-inch howitzers; the only anti-tank guns were half a dozen vener­able 18-pounders; aircraft were few and obsolete; there were not nearly enough infantry, especially for war in the jungle where the man with a rifle, bayonet, and grenade is supreme.

By February 9 there were three infantry brigades in this part of southern Burma. The 46th Indian Infantry Brigade was holding the line of the Salween, with the 16th Indian Infantry Brigade in support and watching the coastal approaches to Thaton, while the 48th Indian Infantry Brigade had just moved into the battle area from Rangoon. The 2nd K.0.Y.L.I. did not belong to any of

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these brigades but was attached to whichever was the most con­venient at the time. Consequently, the battalion was somewhat neglected for it was “nobody’s child” and also it was constantly fighting alongside units which it had never met before; matters were later made even more complicated by the arrival from India of other infantry units, both British and Indian, of armoured units from the Middle East and of battalions of the Burma Rifles thrown into the fight as necessity demanded.

The Salween provided a magnificent line of defence against the Japanese, but there were far too few troops to hold it. At Martaban was the 3rd Battalion 7th Gurkha Rifles. Twenty-five miles to the north at Pa-an was the 7th Battalion 10th Baluch Regiment and some fourteen miles in rear was the 5th Battalion 17th Dogra Regiment in support. The two easiest crossing places were thus held, but there were no troops to hold the many miles between them. On the morning of February 2 the K.0.Y.L.I. were moved forward to Thaton, some forty miles north-east of Martaban and were put under the command of the 16th Brigade which was in that area.

The battalion then set to work to prepare a defensive position near the railway station at Thaton. On the second day (February 4) they had their first taste of war. Nine Japanese bombers flew over and dropped their load of bombs some 400 yards short of the K.0.Y.L.I.; as a result there was a marked increase in the Yorkshiremen’s hitherto rather moderate enthusiasm for digging.   During the next ten days there were fairly frequent bombings; few casualties were caused, the first being Private C. A. Gill (Bradford) who dived into a well in mistake for a slit trench. In the noise of the raid his cries were not heard until Private A. Porter (Barnsley) jumped in and held him up, unfortunately too late.

On the night of February 4/5 a party of thirty men under the command of Lieutenant J. F. Laverick was sent to the Salween to patrol the Martaban beaches, for it was thought that small parties of the enemy were crossing from Moulmein under cover of dark­ness. Their faces were blacked, they carried only rifle, bayonet,

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ammunition, and a water-bottle and they were fitted out with gym shoes to enable them to walk silently. The party returned next day; they had patrolled the beaches all night and seen noth­ing, but they all came back barefoot for the clinging mud had sucked off the gym shoes: there were no more of these shoes in the battalion.

Field Marshal Sir Archibald Wavell, who had taken over command of the forces in the Far East, came to visit the brigade during this period and took the opportunity of greeting officers and men whom he had known in the lst K.O.Y.L.I. at Blackdown in 1930. The visit of this great soldier and friend of the Regiment greatly heartened the battalion, although his visit was followed within an hour by the heaviest air attack yet experienced.

The full effect of the stay in the Salween gorges at Takaw now began to be felt. Many men, including Major Chadwick, went down with malaria and had to be evacuated to hospital. In all very nearly 200 casualties from this disease occurred and, al­though practically all recovered, the battalion strength was seriously affected at this vital time.

On February 5 “A” Company (Major W. G. Haughton) was sent forward to Martaban and placed under the command of O.C. 3rd Battalion 7th Gurkha Rifles. They took up a position in support of this fine battalion, which had the task of preventing landings at Martaban in particular and also along about fifteen miles of the west bank of the Salween.

This was a trying time at Martaban for the unpleasant process of “softening-up” was in progress. The town and its surroundings were frequently bombed while Japanese reconnaissance planes were overhead throughout the twelve hours of daylight. The river was so wide that it seemed certain that the enemy would have to cross at night; with aerial reconnaissance denied to the British it was not possible to find out where the Japanese were concentra­ting for their crossings and, with only two battalions to oppose them it appeared equally likely that they would be able to effect a landing somewhere along that thirty mile stretch of river bank. In the meantime the K.0.Y.L.I. suffered no casualties from the bombing, except one man slightly wounded, and their spirits rose high in consequence.

The first move by the enemy came at Kuzeik opposite Pa-an

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during the night of February 10/11. The Baluchis had been ordered to send one company on patrol up the river and the other down towards the Gurkhas’ position. While these companies were away the remainder were attacked with great determination and considerable force and, after fighting all that night and most of the next day, were practically annihilated. Most of the two absent companies got back safely and passed through Thaton two days later. The Japanese were across the Salween.

This disaster had grave results for the K.O.Y.L.I. The company of 108 mules with Burmese muleteers, which was attached as transport to the battalion had been sent forward to the Baluchis with supplies; they were caught in the chaos of the attack and practically none ever rejoined the K.0.Y.L.I. The only transport left to the battalion was the seven trucks and the forty-eight mules for carrying such weapons as the company Bren guns. The carrier section, however, which was on its way forward to the Baluchis, fortunately escaped and rejoined later. This section had been formed at Thaton when four somewhat elderly armoured carriers had been given to the battalion. There were no spare parts, so one was cannibalised to repair the other three and the section was put under the command of LieutenantJ. A. Goldthorpe who had been trained in their use.

Meanwhile at Martaban there had been clear indications that considerable numbers of the enemy had already crossed. Follow­ing a custom that was soon to become regrettably familiar the. —Japanese had infiltrated round the positions held at Martaban  and on February 9 had established a road block about eight miles north of Martaban. Such a road block might at first consist of only a few men concealed at the edge of the road; later it might be developed into a strongly held position with felled trees and overturned lorries on the road.

There were signs also of the Japanese close to the positions held by the Gurkhas and “A” Company. For instance the signal lines were frequently being cut and special mention must be made of L/Cpl. C. Connell (Doncaster). He constantly went out to repair lines, although he was fully conscious of his danger. Late on the evening of February 10 he went out alone for the last time and never came back. No one knows what happened to this brave lad or how he met his lonely death. The jungle grew over

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                                                                                                        I

his body, he was the first of more than fifty men of the K 0 Y L I who to this day are still posted as “Missing believed killed”.

During that day orders were sent to the Gurkhas to withdraw as quickly as possible; the officer carrying them was killed at the road block, and so they were not received until after dark. That night (February 10/11) the Japanese attacked. In the starlight and -slight ground mist the paddy fields suddenly became “smoking with Japs”. The Gurkhas cut their way out with the Kukri and “A” Company in a short but spirited engagement in which the bayonet was used to good effect, cut its way through the enemy, reformed in the jungle and set off back to rejoin the battalion at Thaton.

The effect of the Japanese road block was to force Major Haughton’s company to march through the jungle roughly parallel to the main road. This meant a cross-country march of nearly thirty miles under difficult conditions. The going was rough and the country hilly with innumerable deep water courses to cross. “A” Company arrived back at Thaton very exhausted, having lost everything except what they were carrying. On the way Private L. Cryer (Shipley) carried the only anti-tank rifle; he refused to abandon the weapon although its weight was great and its length made dodging through the trees most difficult. He gradually fell further and further behind and was never seen again.

During the afternoon of February 10 a column under the command of Captain E. D. Wardleworth, consisting of ”D” Company, the Mortar Platoon, six carriers and a platoon of 3/7th Gurkhas was sent to break through the road block. On arrival, stragglers told that there were by then no troops on the far side of the road block, and so on orders from Brigade Headquarters a perimeter position was taken up some five miles south of Thaton. For four anxious days the company stayed in that isolated posi­tion, without making contact with the enemy and were then ordered to withdraw to Thaton once again.

The Retreat Begins

The failure to hold the line of the Saiween was the gravest defeat of the whole campaign. It can in fact be said that the campaign

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was lost on the Salween for nowhere else in Burma did so good a defensive line exist. Furthermore, the defeat was an evil augury for days to come, for two main causes were faulty tactical deployment of the British forces and inexperience of our troops. When it came to fighting the Indian and Gurkha soldiers were every bit as good as the Japanese, but owing to the ability of the Japanese to concentrate silently and unseen in the jungle the scales were too heavily weighted against the British from the start.

It was clearly desirable that the British forces should get to some suitable line of defence and the position selected was the Bilin River some twenty miles north of Thaton. The various formations had by now been given the title of the 17th Indian Infantry Division, destined to become one of the most famous and formidable formations of the war. It was commanded by Major General J. G. Smyth, V.C., M.C. From February 8 the K.O.Y.L.I. had been attached to the 48th Indian Infantry Brigade at Thaton. This was a very fine brigade indeed, consisting of three Regular Gurkha battalions all blooded on the North-West Frontier of India, but with no experience of the jungle. By February 14 the K.O.Y.L.I. had returned to the 16th Brigade (Brig. J. K. Jones).

In the withdrawal to the Bilin, the K.O.Y.L.I. were to be the last to leave Thaton. A train would arrive at 10 p.m. and onto it would be loaded a considerable quantity of stores and heavy equipment, including several days’ rations for the whole division.. As soon as the train had been loaded up and despatched, the battalion was to start back to Bilin on foot.

During the afternoon and evening of February 15 all the other units set off on their way back and the K.O.Y.L.I. were left alone in the village. It was a most unpleasant time, for the enemy might arrive at any moment and yet all knew that the other units were hourly getting further and further away. “B” Company (Lieut. W. Baxter) was sent to the station to load the train on arrival, while the other companies awaited the order to withdraw. Colonel Keegan and his adjutant, Captain J. R. I. Doyle, waited in the dark at the cross-roads in the centre of the village. Ten o’clock came, but no train; eleven o’clock, midnight, and still no sign of it. The minutes crawled by, with the men waiting tensely in their slit

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trenches in complete silence and the C.O. glancing frequently and ever more anxiously at the luminous face of his watch. Then shortly after 2 a.m. a motorcycle dispatch rider arrived with orders. There had been a misunderstanding, the train would not now be coming; the stores were to be abandoned and the K.O.Y.L.I. were to withdraw forthwith.

The battalion was quickly assembled and at 3 a.m. set off on its long march. With a detachment of Indian sappers and miners blowing up the bridges as they went, the K.O.Y.L.I. made good speed in the cool night air. Just after dawn they heard a train coming from the north along the railway line, which there ran parallel to but a few hundred yards from the road. They heard it rattle past and the noise died away in the direction of Thaton. It was the train that had been ordered for the previous night.

At Thaton to his horror the engine driver found that the whole town was deserted. The Japanese had not yet occupied it; actually they were busy with a sweep round a flank in an attempt to reach and capture the Bilin bridges, though this was not known until afterwards. Fifteen miles forward of the nearest British troops, with the laborious task of shunting the engine to the other end of the train, the Burmese driver can hardly be blamed for abandoning his train and fading swiftly away into the jungle.

However, the noise of the train’s arrival had roused two men. From a quiet corner among the piled boxes and bags, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, came two privates of the K.O.Y.L.I. During the night they had been in the party detailed to load the train and, while awaiting its arrival, had discovered Wazir Mi, the Regimental contractor’s, stores stacked conveniently by the side of the line. One bottle of beer had been followed by another, and eventually they had decided to sleep until the train arrived. They woke to find themselves the sole owners of a village, a train, and a large quantity of baggage, ammunition and rations.

The thought of walking all those twenty miles to the Bilin must have appalled them on such a morning, and so they decided to go by train. One of the men, an Englishman born in Burma and enlisted at Maymyo, had previously been employed with the Burma railways and knew at any rate the rudiments of engine driving. He detached the engine and with some difficulty and much changing of points, maneuvred it to the other end of the train.

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Meanwhile the other man had been loading stores. Obviously, it would be impossible for him to load the whole amount so he selected those which he considered of the greatest importance. Then they climbed onto the engine and set off back to the north.

Back at the Bilin, General Smyth had an anxious time as he heard the train approaching. Should he or should he not order the bridges to be blown? The train might possibly be full of Japanese and, if so, they would probably be able to seize the bridges before he could organise a force to resist them. On the other hand the K.O.Y.L.I. might be on the train and anyhow engines are most valuable in war-time. He decided against the destruction of the bridges, the train crossed and two privates of the K.O.Y.L.I. stepped off the footplate at Hninpale station. The stores they had brought back were unloaded and seized upon by the K.O.Y.L.I. Quartermaster, Captain M. Phillips; they were greatly appreciated in the battalion as beer and cigarettes always are.

The name of the man who drove the engine was Private G. Bream. From then onwards he remained as an engine driver and became famous as the only man who would take his train any­where near the front line.

Battle of the Bilin

For the last part of their march the K.O.Y.L.I. were carried in a shuttle service of lorries and after crossing the Bilin went into bivouac in a rubber plantation about 10 a.m. on February 16. Shortly afterwards the Brigade Major of the 16th Brigade, to which the battalion was now to be attached, arrived, and showed on a map the positions that were to be held. The division was taking up a position facing east along the line of the Bilin River, with the main road as the centre. Owing to fear of landings on the coast General Smyth kept a good part of his force to the south of the road. The 8th Burma Rifles, a good battalion composed of Indian troops, was to the immediate north of the road, with the K.O.Y.L.I. beyond and on the left of the line and the 1st Battalion 7th Gurkha Rifles in rear of the Yorkshiremen.

The Bilin River is here about a hundred yards wide, with wide bare expanses of sand, and the water at this time of year is rarely

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more than knee deep. Nowhere is it a serious obstacle to infantry. On either side is a belt of paddy fields, interspersed with patches of sugar cane six feet high. Parallel with the river and about 800 yards from its west bank runs a metalled road, parts of it in dense jungle and parts built on embankments above the paddy fields; it is known in this history as the Yinon Road.

“B” Company (Lieut. W. Baxter) was given the task of holding a crossing at Yinon, some eight miles up-stream from the bat­talion’s position, and set out at once along the road, first through paddy fields and then through the jungle. Colonel Keegan and his other company commanders then did a reconnaissance and soon it was obvious to them that the battalion was going to be very thin on the ground. The front was 2000 yards long, part of it in very close country with a view of only a few yards; in this type of warfare all-round defence is vital. “C” Company (Capt. H. M. Green) was given the right sector of about 1400 yards next to the 8th Burma Rifles, the country consisting mainly of open paddy fields, but the scattered sugar patches prevented any extended field of fire. The left sector, which was allotted to “D” Company (Capt. E. D. Wardleworth), was much more difficult to hold. It was mostly occupied by the large village of Danyingon, itself amply studded with trees and surrounded with thick and exten­sive patches of jungle. Half a mile further north was a prominent hill, which together with most of the country to the north was covered with dense and almost impenetrable jungle. To provide depth to the battalion position there was only the weakened “A” Company (Major W. G. Haughton) and the men of the Head­quarter Company.

While the C.O. and company commanders were carrying out their reconnaissance, the companies were moving up from the rear. Leaving Green and Wardleworth to make their dispositions, Colonel Keegan and Doyle went off in a truck to have a talk with the C.0. of the 1st Battalion 7th Gurkha Rifles, who at that time were about three-quarters of a mile to the rear. Before he left the C.O. impressed on the company commanders that the orders were to hold the position to the last man and the last round, orders that even the bravest cannot hear without just a tiny cold shiver down the spine.

Twenty minutes later, just as the C. 0. was finishing his talk

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with the C.0. of the 1/7th Gurkhas, there came the sound of a burst of machine-gun fire from the direction of Danyingon village. Very anxiously, for he knew that “D” Company could not pos­sibly have taken up their positions yet, Colonel Keegan listened, hoping that it would only be a scare. But the firing steadily increased in intensity and he knew that something had happened. He and Doyle jumped into their truck and dashed back to “A” Company which was on the Yinon Road behind “C” Company.

The Fight in Danyingon Village

To go back slightly in time, after the C.O. and the Adjutant had left, Wardleworth rode through Danyingon village on his horse, studying the area for his platoons’ positions. It was a large straggling village but everything seemed normal and there were plenty of Burmans about, gazing apathetically at the white man. Wardleworth then rode back and met his company, which had been moving up from the rear and led them forward into the village. Rounding a corner they came on a party of Japanese washing at a well. The Japanese bolted, running across an open space towards a hill. No. 16 Platoon (Sgt. J. Hirst (Doncaster)), which was in the lead, opened fire and several of the enemy were seen to fall, but considerable fire was opened on the Yorkshire-men and they dropped into cover. The situation was most con­fused and one section found itself only about ten yards behind a Japanese officer who was squatting with his back to them behind a bush trying to rally his men. A couple of shots finished his efforts.  Several more of the enemy broke from cover and some of them were accounted for as they ran to join their comrades on the hill.

Although his company was somewhat disorganised by this unexpected encounter, Wardleworth quickly collected the other two platoons and led them in an attack to drive the Japs out of the village. The attack failed and “D” Company had to withdraw. There were at the time probably about a hundred of the enemy in the village, too many to be dealt with by the company in this close country without some form of support. Yet Wardleworth twice reorganised on the edge of the village and led his men in to the attack. Both assaults failed.

It was now that the enormous frontage allotted to the already understrength battalion proved fatal. Had there been troops

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available to make a strong and immediate counter-attack, it is probable that the Japanese could have been thrown out of the village before reinforcements arrived or they had time to dig in deeply. But “B” Company was on its way to Yinon and “C” Company could give no support. Only the weak and not properly rested “A” Company was to hand and they had lost some of their Bren guns during the fight in the dark at Martaban. So “D” Company had to try again.

About 2.30 p.m. “D” Company attacked once more, supported this time by the fire of the battalion’s four 3-inch mortars. This was the first time the Mortar Platoon (Capt. R. A. B. Howden) had been in action; their first bombs fell on “D” Company, forcing Wardleworth and one platoon into the open, but there­after they dropped their bombs accurately in front of the ad­vancing infantry. Unfortunately, four mortars were not sufficient to keep the enemy’s heads down in this thick country. The attack was a gallant affair but by now the Japanese strength had probably increased to about 300 and in some places they were well dug in. The attack failed. In all these actions the company had had more than twenty men killed and wounded, including 2nd Lieutenant S. Webb who died of his wounds shortly after­wards. Wardleworth reorganised his company along the edge of the road but the Japanese did not follow up.

The enemy had not, however, got away unscathed. When “D” Company had been driven out of the village for the first time Corporal J. P. Howson and his section of seven men stayed be­hind to cover the withdrawal of Sergeant Hirst’s platoon. Twenty minutes later, during which there had been a certain amount of firing, the time came to withdraw, but Howson found that his section was cut off by the enemy, who were closing in from several directions.

Nearby was a bungalow standing on stilts about four feet above the ground. Just as the enemy appeared to be about to assault, Howson rushed his section across to and under the bungalow, placed his men in position for all-round defence and prepared to fight it out. Two or three of the Japanese following up were shot and dropped to the ground. Then “D” Company made the first of their unsuccessful attempts to clear the village and the section was left alone for a while.

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Then two Japanese soldiers appeared. One of them walked across to one of the bodies lying in front of the bungalow, bent down beside it and a shot from L/Cpl. S. V. Wilson’s (York) rifle dropped him across the body of his compatriot. Bullets from other men in the section dropped the other as he made for safety. Then silence settled once again on this part of the village. After a bit Wilson asked if he should put another bullet into the man he had shot for apparently he was not dead. Howson told him to watch but not to waste a round unless necessary, for ammunition was not too plentiful after the amount of fighting the section had had: Suddenly the Jap swung his rifle up and fired blind at the bungalow, but Wilson’s warning shout dropped all heads behind cover and then a shot from his rifle finally put paid to that man.

In the meantime occasional shots were spattering round the bungalow from the other side; clearly snipers were getting into position but from where they were firing could not be seen. After a few minutes, before he could be stopped, L/Cpl. R. G. Wood (Barnsley) slipped out from under the bungalow, got behind a tree, levelled his rifle and fired. The others saw him turn, grin broadly, and give the thumbs up sign. The next moment a bullet took him in the back and the little party had lost its first man.

The fight went on. Howson from under a mound of charcoal’ into which he had burrowed, was downing a Jap nearly every time he fired. The enemy was becoming more active and appeared to be trying to clean up this ulcer in its belly. First from one point and then from another under that bungalow would come a shot followed by a jubilant cry of “Got ‘im”, which may or may not have been always justified. Then there was a pause. A Japanese officer abruptly strode into the clearing, looking as if he were saying “What’s all this nonsense going on here?” He marched up to one of the bodies, bent down and shook it angrily by the shoulder. A bullet took him in the stomach, another in the head, and one of his escort dropped also. The bag was mounting happily but ammunition was by now getting short.

Then the main attack by “D” Company began. The mortars fired accurately, moving forward in steps towards the bungalow. A party of Japanese came running back, looking over their shoulders. Howson’s section shot down several of them and con­siderably increased the speed of the remainder. The explosions of

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the mortar bombs crept closer and when it was clear that at the next increase of range the bungalow would probably be hit, Howson led his section out and back to join the company. It is probable that between twenty and twenty-five Japanese would take no further part in the war and all had been shot down at ranges of less than thirty yards. And the only casualty had been L/Cpl. Wood.

After dark that night the 1st Battalion 7th Gurkha Rifles arrived in the K.O.Y.L.I. area. At 7 a.m. next morning (the 17th) they advanced on Danyingon village supported by the K.O.Y.L.I. mortars. After several hours of heavy fighting they were obliged to withdraw. Another most gallant attack was put in by these Gurkhas in the evening; that also failed and the battalion re­mained covering the left flank of the K.O.Y.L.I. Next day (the 18th) another battalion, the 1St Battalion 4th Gurkha Rifles, fresh from the North-West Frontier of India, attacked with the Sup­port of every mortar on the Bum position. After prolonged fighting, in which the Gurkhas fought with the greatest bravery and suffered very heavy losses, they were partially successful. No further attempt was made to take Danyingon village.

Meanwhile the Japanese were steadily moving round the left flank of the British position. The action took a recognisable pattern. The enemy would occupy a jungle covered hill and the British would then attack and try to drive them off it. In the dense scrub, defence was at a tremendous advantage and no attack succeeded. Meanwhile on other parts of the front there would be much firing every night as small parties of the enemy worked their way in between the companies and platoons of the British defensive positions. At no time did the Japanese put in a serious attack on any part of the British line. The battle was won by the enemy by manoeuvre and most excellently organised and tenacious defence This was the essence of Japanese jungle tactics.

Calamity on the Jungle Road

To return to the K 0 Y L I The Yinon Road turns west before Danyrngon village is reached, but after about a mile once again turns north on its way to Yinon On the evening of the 16th “A” Company had been moved about three miles out on this road, with orders to establish a road block and prevent Japanese attack

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from this direction. The block was made with iron barrels filled with tar, turned on their sides and an iron bar driven through each to prevent them being rolled. “A” Company took position on either side of the road covering the block, but prepared for attack from any direction.

In the meantime not a word had been heard from “B” Com­pany at Yinon since they had left the battalion on the morning of the 16th. By about 10 a.m. on the 17th the Brigadier was becom­ing anxious and in consequence Keegan ordered Lieutenant J. A. Goldthorpe, commanding the carrier platoon, to go along the road, find out what was happening and bring back the news. There were of course no wireless sets. There was no information about the enemy having crossed the road so Goldthorpe decided to go with his own carrier alone.

The journey to “A” Company was uneventful, but from Major Haughton he heard quite a different story from the one he had been told at battalion headquarters. Although there was nothing to be seen there were Japanese only a short distance along the road. In fact “A” Company was very much on the alert. Goldthorpe decided not to wait for another carrier to be sent for and, while he talked with Haughton, his driver, Private D. Parker, was taking the carrier round the block, a tricky piece of driving. With two other men in the rear compartment and Goldthorpe sitting beside the driver behind the Bren gun, the carrier started off up the road.

After going about 300 yards firing suddenly started from the left-hand, or west, side of the road. Parker accelerated and Goldthorpe opened fire on the jungle at the side, but there was no enemy to be seen and after about 400 yards the firing stopped, indicating the extent of the jungle held by the enemy. Then about 200 yards further on round a bend a real obstacle was met. At this point a gully about fifteen feet deep is crossed by a small wooden bridge. A heap of large boulders had been piled in the middle of the bridge as high as the handrail, completely blocking the road. Furthermore, the bridge was on fire.

Goldthorpe got out, looked at the bridge, and decided that to make the gully crossable would be an engineer’s job. As he climbed back into the carrier a machine-gun opened fire from the hills about 300 yards away on the west of the road, but the carrier

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was safely turned round and returned to “A” Company, once again being ineffectually fired at from the jungle all along the road.

Back at brigade headquarters it was decided that the road block would have to be cleared and communication with “B” Company re-opened. The plan was that Haughton would advance to the bridge with the whole of his company, supported by two tracked carriers, take it and hold it. A second column would follow the company, consisting of about forty Indian sappers carried in two lorries, and three wheeled armoured carriers manned by Gurkhas. The sappers were to blow the bridge and drop it down into the gully, after which they would blast and dig ramps down on either side so that tracked vehicles could pass. Then the two tracked carriers under Goldthorpe would cross and go on to Yinon, while “A” Company and the sappers, covered by the wheeled carriers, would return to their own road block.

There was some delay in collecting the various units and “A” Company with the carrier commanded by Sergeant B. Gledhil (Leeds) set out for the bridge. Haughton led his men in parties along the edge of the road and they arrived at the bridge without interference by the Japanese. All the same, every man was con­scious that the enemy was very close; in fact, large numbers were lining the jungle perhaps only ten yards from the marching men.

About 4.30 p.m. the mechanised column arrived at “A” Com­pany’s former position and found the company already gone. Goldthorpe in his carrier negotiated the block and went about a hundred yards along the road to cover the other vehicles as they passed the block. First came one of the wheeled carriers but it experienced considerable difficulty in getting off the road into the iungle. The other two carriers passed the two lorries, which were standing on the road perhaps seventy yards from the block, and came up to join the leading carrier. Suddenly there was an appalling outburst of fire from the jungle. When “A” Company had moved forward, the Japanese had moved up to the block and had lined the road hidden in the dense jungle. At ranges of two to ten yards they fired with machine-guns and rifles and hurled grenades at the vehicles. The sappers poured over the sides of their lorries only to be mown down by the murderous fire before they could do anything. Not one was left alive. The wheeled

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carriers opened fire on the Japanese, fought their way past the lorries and away back to headquarters.

Goldthorpe in his carrier was being heavily shot at and gren­ades were falling all round. He decided to go on to “A” Company and set off northwards along the road. Some 200 yards along there was a bend in the road and Parker swung the carrier round it at speed. Fifty yards in front a conference was taking place. Japanese officers, armed with swords and holding maps in their hands, were clearly being given orders. The contents of a Bren magazine arrived among them and as the carrier racketed past the men in the rear compartment tossed grenades among the party. The score was now not quite so one-sided. It was made just a little bit more even when the gunner behind a Japanese medium machine-gun took a burst in the face and grenades turned the gun over and knocked out the rest of the crew. All the same the carrier was shot at practically continuously for the whole half mile to the bridge.

Haughton at the bridge had realised that his company was in a most dangerous position. He had placed the platoons round the bridge, Numbers 8 and 9 on the far side of the water-course and Number 7 Platoon with company headquarters on. the near side. While taking up these positions, the body of a “B” Company runner had been found hidden under a bush, having probably been killed that morning. The story that Goldthorpe told of the slaughter of the sappers showed that there was now no object in staying. The jungle on the east side was apparently full of the enemy and the shooting up of the conference by the carrier in­dicated that an assault was probably just about to be made. Mortar bombs began to land round about, while rifle and machine-gun fire increased rapidly in intensity. Haughton had to decide whether to stand where he was, not dug in at all, and try to fight it out against greatly superior numbers or whether to try to break out of the trap before the assault really developed and get back to the battalion. Haughton decided on the second course. That there was no time to waste was made quite clear when Private Parker shot the crew of a Japanese medium machine-gun, who had just set up their gun on the edge of the road only fifty yards away. Haughton, who was already wounded in the hand, ordered Numbers 8 and 9 Platoons to move back by sections to

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the bridge and withdraw down the road, and told Sergeant F. H. Clarke (Leicester) to start off back at once with No. 7 Platoon.

From now onwards there were two different actions. Nos. 8 and 9 Platoons closed on to the bridge but with the exception of the two rear sections, were then pinned by fire from nearly all directions. Company Headquarters and No. 7 Platoon, however, managed to break away and with the carriers started slowly back down the road.

Mortar bombs began to fall very close to the carriers and it seemed that they were the main target of the enemy. In such close warfare the carriers were not really of very much use but, as there were only three Bren guns in the company, the two in the carriers were a welcome addition if only for morale raising. However, it was only a matter of time before they were knocked out for they provided practically sitting targets. So they started off back down the road and Haughton hoped that they would distract attention somewhat from the marching troops.

With an interval of fifty yards between them, the little tracked vehicles accelerated and, roaring and clattering, charged down the road. At once fire was opened on them and after the four previous journeys up and down that road under fire the enemy seemed determined that this time they should not escape. It was like an exaggerated feu-de-joie. With their heads sunk between their shoulders, with their eyes gazing through the driving slits, the drivers held the bucking carriers straight down the middle of the road, while the bullets striking the armour sounded like a dozen blacksmiths’ shops. Goldthorpe and Gledhill fired their Bren guns into the jungle at the edge of the road in an attempt to keep down the enemy’s fire and the men in the rear compartments tossed grenades into the jungle as the carriers passed.

There appeared in front a small wooden bridge, similar to the one that had just been left. As the two carriers roared down towards it at 30 m.p.h., two bullets came in through the driving slit of the one in front and ricochetted about the carrier, grazing Parker, the driver, on the neck and causing him to lose controL Just as the carrier was about to hurtle over the edge of the bridge into the gully, he swung the wheel first to the right and then again to the left. The carrier did a wild zig-zag on the bridge, carrying away the hand-rail, straightened up and roared on. In Gledhull’s

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carrier the Bren gun was hit and put out of action. At last the road block was reached where two machine-guns engaged the carrier. They were both put out of action by the remaining Bren gun and accurate throwing of grenades. But now there was only one full magazine left.

Meanwhile casualties were mounting in “A” Company. The party on the road had by now become split up into three groups. That in the lead was mainly composed of men of No. 7 Platoon with C.S.M. H. Houseley (Sheffield) and Sergeant Clarke. In the second group were stretcher bearers and orderlies and half a dozen mules carrying reserve ammunition with their drivers, all under the control of Major Haughton. Behind came the third party made up of sections of Nos. 8 and 9 Platoons and a few wounded and stragglers.

When the leading party had reached a point some 700 yards from the bridge firing became intense, but as yet there was no sign of the enemy. L/Cpl. W. A. Macdonald, who was light­weight boxing champion of Burma, got his Bren gun into position and started firing into the jungle at places from which he thought fire was coming. Screams showed that his fire was effective. All

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the same No. 7 Platoon was suffering heavily when suddenly Japanese burst from the jungle around them and in a moment the road was a mass of men fighting hand to hand. Clarke, a stocky red-haired tough, drove his bayonet into the stomach of a very large Japanese officer ;(The majority of the Japanese are small men but in accounts of the various engagements during the Battle of the Bun there are constant reports of very large men, of men who would be considered large in any company. This is quite likely, for there is reported to be a race of large fairer-skinned men in one of the most northern of the Japanese islands. The officer killed early on in Danyingon village was said to be a “huge man” and “B” Company also reported killing a number of big men) so great was the weight of the man that Clarke was knocked to the ground where he was attacked by three more swordsmen. With a roar C.S.M. Houseley, a man of magnificent physique who had been a second-row forward in the rugby football teams of either the 1st or 2nd Battalions for many years, jumped to his rescue. First with the bayonet and then with the butt, he slew the Japanese. He was last seen holding a Japa­nese by the neck with either hand, cracking their heads together with a last use of his great strength, while six others literally cut him to pieces with their swords.

Caught at a disadvantage the K.0.Y.L.I. fell fast. The sword is a better weapon than a bayonet in such a fight, especially if there are two or more swordsmen to every man with a bayonet. The fight was soon over. Not one man in that front party lived to re­join the battalion.

Meanwhile the second party was moving slowly up the road. Haughton gave orders for the mules to be stampeded up the road as a diversion and told the men with him to dive into the jungle, split up into groups and get back to the battalion. As he finished talking and turned towards the group in rear, a mortar bomb fell almost on top of him, mortally wounding him and killing L/Cpl. R. Slow and Bandsman H. Bailey (Maidstone). He was dragged to the side of the road by another of his men. Then the mules were whipped up and off they went down the road with their drivers, led by L/Cpl. H. W. Rudlinton. They got perhaps fifty yards before they were caught in the fire of a machine-gun. One driver only got through.

After their rush on to the road to massacre No. 7 Platoon, the Japanese had disappeared back into the jungle once again. Yet

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still the storm of lead poured from the trees, bushes, and tall grass, killing and wounding. It was too much for Private C. Collins (Bradford), who had the Yorkshireman’s intense dislike of being hit without being able to hit back. He jumped to his feet and with a cry of “Come out into the open, you yellow. . .“, charged into the jungle with his bayonet down. He was not seen again. Let us hope he got in at least one good blow before he died.

It was now about 6 p.m. and the light was failing. Only about fifteen men of the whole company were still alive, scattered in little groups hiding in the edge of the jungle. As darkness fell L/Cpl. J. Rowley (Sheffield) crawled out to search for his son-in-law, L/Cpl. W. A. Macdonald and found him still behind his Bren gun. Macdonald refused to be moved for he was desperately wounded, shot through the stomach. He cuddled the butt of his gun to his cheek and asked Rowley to find him more magazines. He was dying and he knew it, but he was going to be sure that he took a goodly number of Japanese with him to the other side.

Back at Battalion Headquarters the C.0. heard all that Gold-thorpe had to tell. The carriers were mute witnesses to the truth of the story. Hardly an inch of the outside armour was unmarked by bullets; the tracks were cracked in innumerable places, being held together only by the pins. Handfuls of lead splashings could be picked up in many places. One carrier was immovable and had to be destroyed, but Gledhill’s was patched up and eventually got back to the Sittang. In the hope that some of “A” Company .‘ had escaped Colonel Keegan ordered haversack rations to be prepared and placed where they could be found by men coming down the road. In the faint light of the moon the basket of rations lay beside the road, but no one came. Next day about a dozen men, grey faced and utterly weary, tottered in to tell the terrible story. One man was made prisoner. They were the sole survivors.

Meanwhile at Yinon, Captain Baxter was becoming worried. No orders, no rations, no news of any sort had arrived from battalion headquarters. As “B” Company arrived at the village about midday on the 16th a Japanese patrol had been seen on the far bank of the River Bilin and shortly afterwards another had been seen on the near bank in rear of the position the company was taking up. On the following days Japanese were seen con­stantly on the far bank of the river and it was clear that the jungle

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around was being patrolled; the only casualties were, however, caused by one of the company sentries when on the first night he shot up a returning patrol, killing Private H. Organ (Hull) and wounding Sergeant J. Edwards and another man.

Two attempts to get messages through to the battalion brought no result. Captain L. A. Chapman, who had already gained a con­siderable reputation for looking for trouble made a brave attempt to get through from headquarters on a motor bicycle but was fortunate to escape with his life. It was obvious that the area between Yinon and the Bilin position was swarming with Japanese and that the company was cut off. It was in the full knowledge of these conditions that Private W. Abbott (Hull). volunteered to try to get through to battalion headquarters with a message. About 8 o’clock on the morning of the 18th he set out.

Imagine the conditions of the march he had undertaken. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky, soaking his shirt and shorts with sweat and sucking up his strength and vitality. He knew that there would be no chance of getting through if he followed the road so he had decided to go through the jungle, avoiding even the tracks as far as possible. He would rarely be able to see more than ten yards and every foot of those eight miles of dense jungle and grass might hide an enemy. He was utterly on his own, dependent entirely on himself, without a hope of meeting his own kind in those eight miles. It was like a nightmare child’s game, with his life as forfeit if he were as much as seen.

His equipment was made so that it would make no noise and the rounds of .303 ammunition in his pouches were padded to prevent them rattling. He slipped away from the company, apparently unseen by the enemy on the other side of the river or by any in the jungle round the village. He disappeared into the jungle and was gone. It is true to say that not many of those who saw him start expected to see him again.

Just to walk through the jungle is tiring. To walk carefully so that no dry twig shall snap underfoot, no branch swing back and rustle, so that the tall grass shall not sway and betray movement, is most wearing. When every nerve is tensed ready for instant action, eyes ready to notice the least movement or note any sign of possible danger, ears attuned to hear every smallest sound, with an enemy likely to be met at any moment, movement through

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the jungle is physically and mentally exhausting. Just one com­panion would make so much difference. There is a longing to get into a hole and hide or to turn back to where friends are known to be. He must be a brave man to walk through the jungle alone when he knows that the enemy will be on the alert for just such a messenger as he,

Abbott pushed his way through the jungle carefully. Without a compass it was difficult to keep direction but he could hear the sound of distant firing and he “marched to the sound of the guns”. The pace was slow, probably less than a mile an hour, but to get there was more important than to get there quickly. There were numerous signs of the enemy but he crossed all tracks with care and was not seen. About 1 p.m. he came to the road, prob­ably about half way between Yinon and battalion headquarters, at a point where a well-marked track crossed the road.

Cautiously peering from the long grass he saw two British trucks drawn up in the middle of the road about a hundred yards away with what appeared to be a man lying under one of them doing repairs. Relief made him careless. He rose to his feet and walked down the road towards the trucks. When he was but a few yards off the leading truck, a machine-gun opened fire on him from the hill on the west side of the road. A bullet hit him in the thigh, knocking him down. With every sense screaming a warning of danger he scrambled for the nearest cover—the truck—and flung himself down behind a wheel.

The next few minutes were unpleasant. The man behind the machine-gun knew that Abbott was behind the truck and also knew that he was unarmed, for he could see Abbott’s rifle lying in the open where he had dropped it when wounded.So the machine ­gunner tried to finish off his enemy. Bullets ripped through the woodwork and canvas of the truck or ricochetted off the chassis and engine. Bullets kicked up the dust around and underneath the truck and smacked into the trees behind. Behind his wheel Abbott lay still, his belly trying to force itself into the ground but his brain working clearly, thinking out his next move. He noticed that there must have been a fight at the spot for there were empty .303 cartridge cases on the road, a Bren magazine and a dead mule.

Then the machine-gunner stopped firing. Maybe he was bored

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or maybe he decided not to waste any more ammunition, but Abbott took the opportunity to slide back from the truck, across the verge and into the ditch. He found the ditch full of dead bodies lightly covered with brushwood. He had arrived at the spot where the Indian sappers had been ambushed that morning.

He made haste to crawl along the ditch and then back into the jungle. His leg was rather painful and made walking somewhat difficult but fortunately it was a clean through wound, although bleeding considerably. Although he was clearly right among the Japanese and was not able to walk as quietly as was desirable, he decided to go on rather than go back. He continued his cautious way through the jungle.

An hour or so later he came to the road again. As he watched four Burmans came down the road carrying “dahs”, the broad­bladed knife of Burma, equally useful for cutting the way through the jungle or killing a man. He came out onto the road and at­tracted their attention. The Burmans seemed pleased to see him and they spoke a little English, so Abbott asked them where the British were. They pointed along the road and said that there were plenty of British troops in that direction. Everything was very friendly.

Feeling weary and thirsty Abbott sat down with his back against a tree with the Burmans facing him. He unhitched his water-bottle and raised it to his lips. As he did so he tilted he head back slightly and saw one of the Burmans with his dah raised in the act of striking. He instinctively raised his hands above his head at the moment that the Burmans slashed down at him. The blows fell across the palms of his hands practically severing all the fingers of his left hand and severely damaging the other. He dived between the brown men, who were still striking at him and ran a few yards down the road fumbling in his haversack for one of his two grenades. His poor maimed fingers performed a last duty for him and pulled out the pin. He threw it at the Burmans and got away into the jungle.

He was now far gone but the dominant idea in his tired brain was to reach the battalion. He stumbled on through the jungle. Blood poured from his hands and he realised that he might bleed to death. He made two tourniquets on his left arm, one with his first-field dressing and the other with a bandolier, but with only

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small success. With his left hand tucked into the neck of his shirt and holding a grenade in the other, he forced himself forward. The wounded right hand stiffened and set round the grenade making him quite defenceless. The branches whipped his face and tore at his clothing; his hands ached and burned like fire. He had little idea of where he was going and must have fallen and lain unconscious on several occasions. Yet always his determipa­tion to live got him on his feet again. He was on the road now, and at last, at long last, just as it was getting dark he came to a Gurkha post. He collapsed and was carried by the stocky little hillmen to their medical officer. Yet Abbott had still to deliver his message; he refused to be evacuated and insisted on being carried to the K.O.Y.L.I. All that night he lay in a slit trench. He after­wards told Colonel Keegan that lying helpless in the trench while Japanese parties infiltrated and bullets cracked across his head was far more trying than his journey from “B” Company to the battalion.

Captain Doyle suggested that a message should be dropped from the air telling “B” Company to retire. At about noon next day (the 19th) two aircraft with British markings machine-gunned

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Baxter’s company, so when some three hours later another air­craft with British markings came over and tried to attract attention the Yorkshiremen lay very doggo. After some time something whistled down from the aeroplane and as there was no subsequent explosion Baxter wondered what was happening. Then a sentry spotted something coloured lying on a sandbank in the middle of the river immediately in front of where the Japanese were known to be. Sergeant R. Steerment* volunteered to fetch the canister and watched by most of the company, crossed the paddy fields, waded out into the river and brought it back. In the canister was a message which read “Abandon all heavy equip­ment. Withdraw to Kyaikto immediately”.

Captain Baxter at once gave orders for all mule equipment, boxes of ammunition and anti-tank rifles to be thrown down deep wells and shortly after 4 p.m. the company rendezvoused behind the position. As the last men left the village the enemy were seen to be advancing to the assault across the river.

Retreat from the Bilin

With the failure of an attack by the 4th Battalion 12th Frontier Force Regiment on February 19, the position of the 17th Indian Division became serious. The enemy had out-manoeuvered the British and given them a lesson in defensive fighting in the jungle, forcing them continually to attack over ground of Japanese choosing. By constantly extending their threat to the northern flank of the Bilin position they had drawn all the British reserves into one line and there was now no depth to the position and no reserve. Now was the moment for the Japanese to throw the full weight of their attack at the British lines of communication and this they duly did. Some forty miles in rear lay the greatest bottleneck in southern Burma, the railway bridge over the Sittang River near Mokpalin. By the evening of the 19th the Japanese were thinning out on the Bilin and starting their march through the jungle to the Sittang. At the same time the British began their retreat and the war developed into a race for the vital bridge, though few officers and men in the division knew what was happening.

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The Battle of the Bilin

Drawing by Major J.R. Drugmore

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Orders were received for the battalion to withdraw at 7 a.m. on February 20, but the method ordered caused Colonel Keegan to hurry to the Brigadier in protest. While other battalions on this sector of the front were to withdraw to their rear by various jungle tracks, the K.O.Y.L.I. were ordered to withdraw south along the Yinon Road to its junction with the main road near the Bilin bridge, whence they would move back to Kyaikto, some twenty miles away. If this method were followed, the battalion would have to march across the front of and in full view of the enemy at a range of only about 800 yards and for a distance of nearly two miles. To add to the C.O’s. uneasiness, the battalion holding the Bilin bridge area was to withdraw at 5 a.m., at least three hours before the K.O.Y.L.I. were due to pass through their position. As the C.O. pointed out to the Brigadier, he did not think that the battalion could possibly get through, and the Brigadier agreed. Clearly someone had blundered, but the only concession that the C.O. could get was that the battalion might start to withdraw at 6.45 a.m. instead of 7 a.m., thereby getting the benefit of a few minutes of dim light before the sun rose.

Duly at a quarter to seven the battalion began to move. A brisk fire fight was going on between the enemy and the Gurkhas on the immediate right of the K.O.Y.L.I., the bullets from both sides passing over the heads of the marching Yorkshiremen. On their left, that is to say, in the direction of the Japanese, as they marched along, were open paddy fields; on the right was almost impenetrable scrub jungle. “C” Company, who had hardly been in contact with the enemy during the whole battle, rejoined dur­ing the march and at last the battalion reached the main road without a shot having been fired at it. Actually on most of this part of the front the enemy had left only nuisance parties, while the main body was swinging round the northern flank in its rush for the Sittang Bridge.

Many have described the march to Kyaikto as “absolute hell”; they were later to experience conditions with considerably nearer resemblance to the infernal regions, but all the same it was a most trying march. It was a very hot day and there was little shade from the practically vertical midday sun; the dust rose and hung in clouds so thick that many men marched with handkerchiefs tied across their mouths. Water also was scarce. Japanese aircraft

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flew up and down the road, machine-gunning and bombing, and all the time there was anxiety that the enemy might be in ambush in the thick jungle. Yet the retreat was inexplicable to the men. So far as they could see the British had not been defeated, yet already they had retreated about seventy miles. Admit­tedly “A” Company had ceased to exist and “D” Company had suffered considerable losses, but “C” Company had not yet been in action.

As the C.O. made his way up and down the long column, men would say to him “When are we going to turn and have a crack at ‘em, Sir?” This was not the spirit of defeated men.

That night “B” Company rejoined the battalion at Kyaikto. Their march from Yinon had started at about 4 p.m. on the 19th and they did not get in until 8 p.m. the next day, but they were definitely in good spirits. For much of the way they had marched along the very same tracks by which the Japanese were advancing. They had met the enemy once only but that had been a successful engagement.

That first evening they had climbed the range of hills which lay parallel to the Bilin River and at 8 p.m. went into perimeter in the valley beyond. The night was quiet and at first light they set off. Again there were frequent signs of Japanese, well trodden paths showing the way they had gone. In front of the company went No. 12 Platoon (Sgt. Steerment) and at about 10.30 a.m. the scouts reported that the village they were about to enter was occupied by the enemy. In fact it looked as if the Japanese were lying in ambush for “B” Company. Captain Baxter, who was for­ward with Steerment, ordered an assault, Steerment’s platoon on the right, No. 11 Platoon (Sgt. Wheeler) in the centre and No. 10 Platoon on the left. Getting into position for the attack took some time and Wheeler’s platoon advanced before the other two were ready. As they broke from the jungle the whole fire power of the waiting enemy was concentrated on them at a range of about fifty yards. Wheeler was hit and Sergeant W. Johnson (York) was gravely wounded. Private G. W. Hall (Rotherham) was armed with a tommy gun. Quite cool he stood in the open firing ac­curately at the Japanese. A bullet struck him, and another, and a third, but each time he steadied himself and went on firing, changing magazines as required. He was still firing, and firing accurately, as he slowly sank to the ground and died. He did not

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die alone. It is to be hoped that he regarded the number of Japanese that he took with him as satisfactory.

As soon as he heard firing Steerment ordered his platoon to advance, but when he broke out of the jungle he found that he had only seven men with him. Under cover of the diversion caused by Hall they charged into the village and soon all those Japanese who had not fled were dead. And the only one of the eight to be wounded was L/Cpl. C. Palphramand (Hull).

The company quickly reformed and continued the march. All that day they slipped through the jungle but, although they fre­quently heard the enemy they did not encounter them again. At last as dark was falling they came out onto the road and to the joy of the C.O. joined the battalion that night. “B” Company had been given up as lost.

Steerment, however, had stayed behind in the village with his seven men and the wounded. All the latter, with the exception of Sergeant Johnson, were able to walk and he sent them off with two men as escort. The remainder made a stretcher from bamboos and placed Johnson on it. It was desperately slow work for a way had to be cut to get the stretcher through; after two hours they

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had only covered about a quarter of a mile. At this rate it would be impossible ever to reach Kyaikto which was still fifteen miles away, so Johnson was left in a village. A corporal, a brave man whose name cannot unfortunately be ascertained, stayed with him. Steerment promised to have a patrol sent back to bring them on so soon as he reached the battalion.

Night fell with the little party still struggling through the jungle and they lay quiet in a gully for the night. There was much move­ment round about and near midnight firing started. Shots seemed to be fired from all and every direction, but who the Jap­anese were fighting is far from certain. At dawn the York­shiremen started again and at last reached the main road, were picked up by a patrol and taken to a Brigade Headquarters. After hearing Steerment’s story the Brigadier sent out a patrol of Gurkhas in carriers to bring in Johnson and the corporal. They were not found nor were they ever heard of again.

The K.O.Y.L.I. spent the night of February 20/21 at Kyaikto. Here for the first time in the campaign the K.O.Y.L.I. met other British troops, the 2nd Battalion The Duke of Wellington’s Regiment recently arrived from India and, for some wholly inexplicable reason, sent forward that afternoon from the Sittang Bridge. These other Yorkshiremen were inclined to laugh at the sight of the battle-wise light infantrymen digging holes in the ground with dahs and bayonets; they were to learn their lesson the hard way next day. That night the K.O.Y.L.I. had the good sleep they so badly needed. Although firing broke out all around in the early hours of the morning, the battalion knew all about nuisance parties by then. They barely opened an eye and were soon fast asleep again. Probably the excellent meals provided by the Quartermaster were largely responsible for their good sleep and contentment.

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