Burma Star Association - B.C. Chapter
It was the 11th of May, 1944. My official appointment at the time was as Staff
Captain of the 3 (WA) Infantry Brigade. But on joining General Orde Wingate's
Special Force on arrival in India some 5 or 6 months before, the brigade had
been reorganized into columns instead of battalions, to suit the long range
penetration formation. The brigade HQ, as such, was redundant and I was sent off
in a Dakota aircraft, with all sorts of other odds and sods, into the middle of
Burma to a defended locality known as 'Aberdeen’, a misnomer if ever there was
one. After some weeks there I was moved over to "White City" in a similar Staff
Officer capacity.
But the monsoon was approaching. After Gen. Wingate's death in an aircraft
accident, there appeared to be second thoughts about the purposes of Special
Force at GHQ. The order was given to evacuate 'White City’.
The several numbered columns moved out over a day or two, to make or fight their
way back to India. There was, however, a very substantial residue ‑ the many
sick and wounded, some now spare gunners and their heavy guns, etc, and God
knows what other baggage. As staff officer it was my job to coordinate both men
and material into plane loads, amounting to some 30 to 40 sorties, all by RAF or
USAAF Dakotas, in one night, May 11.
The
enemy was never far away, not always in large numbers, but large enough to be
very troublesome. Indeed, the RAF had advised us in no uncertain terms that one
shell on the runway would cancel the whole operation. They meant it.
The
prospect for us on the ground in that case was pretty desperate, with all those
'noncombatants' on our hands, for there was little if any defense. We would
have been left, on the face of it, to find out way back to India through thick
bush, and over rivers and mountains for over 200 miles. It was unthinkable,
though thankfully I didn't get much time for thinking. It was a "white-knuckled"
night. As it turned out, not a shot of any kind was fired.
I
personally saw to the loading of the last flight as dawn was breaking, and the
pilot of the aircraft told me that all sorties had landed safely in India - it
was only about a half-hour's trip. So, all ready, I turned to my companion, and
handed him aboard, clambering after him with the greatest sigh of relief I've
ever breathed. But I haven't told you about my companion, have I?
At
the beginning of my story I said that I didn't remember very much about my days
in Burma; after all, it was 50 years ago. But one last little thing I will never
forget. One of the listed evacuees was the Chief Medical Officer of 3 (WA)
Infantry Brigade. When his turn to board came up, early in the listings, the MO
said he would like to stay awhile. Most unusual, but who was I to argue? I
was a mere Captain at the time, and he was a full Colonel. Yet he stayed around,
always in the near background, with a brief chat in the few quiet moments. I
protested once or twice that he should be getting aboard on the next flight, for
he had no duty to perform. All through the night he stayed, until the final
sortie was loaded. He got aboard ahead of me. He never explained why he had
chosen to stay until the last - I'm sure it wasn't to keep an 'official' eye on
me. I've thought about it many times since. I've concluded he wanted to keep me
company during a very critical time.
That is a very happy memory in my life. I'll remember my silent companion always, as long as I live. But do you know, I do not recall his name - but I know that he was a fine Scottish gentleman! And he was courteous enough to let me be the last man out of "White City."