I Remember .... Chapter Five

Chapter Five

On the march

The time came when we packed all our worldly goods field service marching order - big pack, two side packs which contained 50 rounds of ammunition, small pack water bottle plus a chagal (also a water holder) and a small bible. It was officially about 90lbs but in addition, we had a blanket, mosquito net, a two-man tent and a monsoon cape. (This formed our bedding roll which we rolled up into compact rolls to be carried by the mules, exact number in each roll to balance the load.) We marched in single file, on alternative sides of the road or track (not in threes), which extended the Company some distance. As you can imagine, with the rest of the Battalion too, on the march, it was a massive affair. We went south towards Palel and after several days, entered the Kabaw Valley (‘The White Man’s Death Valley’) with thick jungle growth. We usually set off at dusk about 6pm until 8 the following morning, averaging about 15-20 miles at a time, lying up during the day or two and on again. It was a hell of a trek. We simply ambled on and on. Occasionally, someone would fall on the march and those following also fell. We sang all sorts of songs like 'Bluebells are bluebells, bluebells are blue, bluebells are bluebells ’cause bluebells are blue'. We sang it for the Company Commander and repeated it down to everyone enroute. On conclusion of the night's match, feet were examined, trenches dug, food up and rest. We often constructed small tents above to give enough room to stand upright. I often went into the jungle to watch the marvellous butterflies and moths. The teak trees were of hard wood and the large leaves we used to cover our small bashers. The weather had improved but tracks became deep in a dusty surface and humidity fell like rain. The smell was dank and putrid. In order to give a good surface, we at times, cut down elephant grass (like Pampas Grass), in an attempt to bind the surface. We came upon elephants which we used to assist us in building bridges with fallen trees. The elephants moved tree trunks like matchsticks. The Kabaw Valley was a challenge. Many men fell out with sickness - dysentery, malaria, typhus, prickly heat, jungle sores, ticks and leeches. It was a long trek.

I was appointed a bodyguard with another fellow called Archer, to look after the Company Commander Major Day. Every day he washed, naked in any small stretch of water. Once, about 100 yards away, a single Japanese did likewise. We did not connect. I also had a wash. As soon as there was water about, I wallowed in it. On one occasion, I got to a small steam with overhanging branches, so I got my Kukris (a Gurkha knife) and attempted to cut a large branch. The blade hit the water and went off like a piece of slate and I sliced my big toe. I was not allowed to use my field dressing, but used a piece of 4x2 material (usually used for cleaning out rifle barrels), then put on my sock and boot. The next night we marched about 20 miles! Fortunately, it soon healed and did not become gangrenous. We continued down the valley. We did not see any Burmese, only a few wild animals, snakes, large ants and other insects, including maggots. We had hard tack biscuits, like slate, which we broke up with the aid of our bayonets and put in a tin with water and boiled, like a thick porridge. When it was heated, very often maggots came to the top. They were removed promptly! On boiling, bubbles came up and exploded like a volcano. Nevertheless, it was very sustaining.
We had dispensed with our two man tents by this time, just sleeping on the ground, where we had stopped. At times, we were harassed by Japanese 'Jitter Parties'. They came from all directions. They imitated wild animals and shouted to draw our fire. We sat tight but somewhat nerve racking, to say the least. One has to admit, the jungle was a formidable obstacle, yet it was also an advantage in providing cover for our advance, and at times we could almost shake hands with the Japs. Please do not enquire where we went or where we were; only the good Lord knows that! I did see a few rough maps, chiefly marked 'Virgin Jungle' with a spot showing a Pagoda (a Burmese likes to erect one during his lifetime). We kept clear of these, as they were known to the Japanese- fixed points and of course, ranged. On and on we travelled, day after day. After a mighty long haul, one day, our section of about 10 became depleted. One, called Granny Grant, who was much older than the others, fell out often, likewise our Corporal, only to be picked up by supporting vehicles behind us. Our 15cwt truck carried everything, from cooking utensils, fuel, ammunition etc for the whole Company. Often it had to be manually lifted in some cases, especially across small river beds (chauges), washed out during the monsoon season. Our road-making activities continued and a place name I remember was Kalewa, to the west of the Chindwin River. It was fast flowing and we tried to construct rafts with our big packs, bamboo and tarpaulins. We exercised on a small stream. I say small but about 15ft deep. Our section contained some good swimmers. One, called Williams was an excellent diver who proved valuable when we were demonstrating the construction and crossing to the Commanding Officer. But they inadvertently put his Sten gun on board and it tipped into the stream with one non swimmer and the whole section of rifles, plus the old man's sten gun went to the bottom! We were going to swim alongside and push it across the Chindwin. It was whilst waiting, I saw a young Burmese boy, about 10 years, who sang the first verse of 'Onward Christian Soldiers'. Obviously, there had been a mission school there somewhere.

It was in the Kabaw Valley that I celebrated, my 21st birthday (24th December 1944). I recollect that we had an impromptu concert. We sang cowboys' songs, tethering the mules to posts! We had dug long criss-cross trenches on an open piece of ground, made seats half way down, in an area of some 20 yards and used the surface of the ground as our table, in preparation for our Christmas dinner. We were being supplied by air, the dropping zone, of course being to our rear always! Come Christmas Day 1944, we had a good dinner - canned Australian turkey and many other trimmings. An Auster Aircraft (small observation plane) flew to the north of us, towing a banner 'Wishing you a Merry Christmas'. Can you imagine our feelings at this time? The thought of crossing the Chindwin River with Japanese waiting our arrival on the other side was frightening. I could not get out of my mind the words of the 23rd Psalm - 'The Lord is my shepherd…
He maketh me lie down in green pastures (this green canopy of the teak trees and jungle)… Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death (Kabaw Valley), I will fear no evil, for thou art with me… Thou preparest a table (Christmas dinner) before me in the presence of mine enemies… Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life'. It was a soul-searching occasion, with recollections of my parents, relatives and friends, and of course, speculation of the future and of what was before me and the rest of us.

We had remained static, close to the west side of the Chindwin for about five days, when some good news came. The engineers had hurriedly constructed a pontoon bridge, slightly north of our position; the longest ever built and was nearing completion. We moved up, under cover of darkness and I and the rest of the Company were on the bridge crossing at midnight, on the last day of 1944; it was a terrific feat of engineering. We broke step and ambled across. Our concern was who was waiting on the other side. We could easily have been driven back to the river but it was one of our longest marches, very heavy going, up and down, even mules went out over — a sad sight. We had started at about 6pm and eventually finished at noon on the following day. The terrain on the east side, was mountainous and kit was discarded recklessly. We finished up completely shattered, having done about 40 miles to the west of Mandalay. We sent out patrols from our perimeter always probing. We started moving in daylight, under jungle cover. Tamu, Kalemyo and Kalewa were small villages we moved through or bypassed. Our next objective was Monywa, on the west side of the Irrawaddy River.

The Japanese resisted our advance and their soldiers were fanatics, to quote just one instance. Having got down for the night, in a compact area, two Japanese soldiers, carrying cooking utensils shouted, when only a few yards away "Grub up Johnny Devons." Many stood up and fired; an immediate reaction. A 2" mortar flare lit up our position. They were obviously killed but their bodies had been retrieved overnight. Our only casuality was that someone had lost the lobe of his ear. I am not going to mention casualities on either side; collectively the Japanese were retreating. The 3/1st Gurkhas were covering our southern flank. They had inflicted heavy casualities and we took over their positions. We were actually 'stood to', when a lone Japanese wandered across, from right to left, with a basher to our front about 80 yards away. Our perimeter fire was terrific. It actually cut through the leg (post) of the basher and the whole lot fell down, only for the Jap to make his way out the other side!

All wells and water places had been polluted. The temperature had increased considerably and our jungle green kit became faded and white with salt from perspiration. Even though we were between two great rivers, water became a problem. I dug up an old rusty can. It could have been booby-trapped, nevertheless, I cut it open, with an inside seal, and found it contained coffee. Out came my 4x2 rifle cloth and I made it into a bag. We made small fires each day and throughout our advance, we had coffee first thing, no milk, no sugar, in fact, it got to a stage when we crushed it between two stones.

I remember, one night, I saw off a number of 7 Platoon, including a mate, Jumbo Brown (Bere Alston),) into a hollowed out tree trunk, to make a 'jitter raid' on the other side. (Lt Rice was in charge.) Prior to their crossing, they had dozed, down on their monsoon capes and I had to bring the capes back to our position. I knew they had mounted their Bren gun upfront. It was a successful mission. They returned intact, somewhat further down stream. I got back alright, except I was absolutely frightened to death, almost, when I disturbed a herd of wild pigs and they went off charging everywhere. We were being shelled by artillery every night, for about eleven days. Fortunately, you could follow the noise of whistling from the shells in the sky and they passed over head. Thank God!
Due to the speed of our advance, our K rations were cut by half. These consisted of hard tack biscuits, small tins of cheese, other sustaining food and of course cigarettes, and even in the jungle, toilet paper; better than leaves I suppose! We managed to bayonet and kill two wild pigs and roast over a fire, with corn on the cob, plus some tomatoes (the skins were like leather). It went down well but I won't describe the after-effects after K rations; talk about ‘through an eye of a needle’! We headed towards Monywa, a so-called port on the river, chiefly used in the teak felling industry.

Enroute, we had an airdrop to our rear. I went back with about a dozen, to pick up our entitlement. Large tins of 'Bully Beef' came whistling down like bombs. It was hot and the lads wanted a cup of tea. We made our tea in a large tin. A lot of the supplies came down without parachutes. I recollect being on my hands and knees, spoon retrieving sugar in the ground, from a burst sack. The lads fell upon some large tins of ‘Bartlett’ pears and secretly got some into the jungle but the Indian officer became aware of this. We nearly fell out with the Indian Officer. It would have been better if they had taken a couple instead of the whole lot. A funny thing happened that night. The whole Company was in a dried-out rice field and someone stole a large tin of rolled bacon. Setting off next day, after a few hundred yards, we were called to a halt, in an attempt to find the culprit, but without success. I recollect about here, I was naked in a stream, swimming one morning, when I heard shouted 'snake'! I hurried out of the water, to hear three revolver shots fired by an Indian officer and there laid a snake about 20 feet long, only to be told it was a 'chota', a small one. I did not want to see a big one!

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