The Devil's Circle, page 18
I LET Habibullah take up his story again. After the shattering events of December, he had almost lost faith in the cause. Rash Behari Bose tried to salvage something from the wreck, but too many of the men who had volunteered so eagerly in Farrer Park felt completely betrayed. They dropped away and returned to the POW cage. Habibullah stayed. He felt he owed it to his troops, the ones who remained. Their motives were mixed. Some, a small minority, still believed in the promises that had been made that the Japanese would help them liberate the motherland. For the majority, it was a matter of cold calculation. To return to their units as POWs would not only mean privation, it would have been a massive humiliation. Sincere or not, the Japanese were in charge and there were advantages to being on the winning side. For Habibullah there was no choice. He had pledged his honour to the cause of Indian independence; there could be no turning back.
Training continued in a desultory and half-hearted fashion. The INA was leaderless, decapitated by the removal of Mohan Singh. None of the remaining senior officers even tried to fill the gap. It wasn’t because Mohan Singh was such a towering figure that no one could replace him. The fact is, there were no takers for the hot seat. Responsibility without power, with the certainty of blame if things went badly wrong; this was hardly an alluring proposition. Recruitment fell to practically nothing. The idealists had been disillusioned; only the crass opportunists now came forward, and precious few of those. It was soul-destroying. Habibullah toyed with the idea of resigning his commission and volunteering as a private soldier to be trained as an infiltrator at one of the spy schools set up by Iwakuro. Then came Netaji.
Subhas Chandra Bose was a man with stature. He had been a personage of substance in India: mayor of Calcutta, president of the Congress Party, rebel against the Raj. When the War started in Europe, he had been arrested by the British. He went on a hunger strike. Not wanting to make him a martyr, they put him under house arrest instead. He gave them the slip and made his way across India, then through Afghanistan and on to Germany. In Berlin he met Foreign Minister von Ribbentrop and other Nazi Party grandees. He even had a short audience with the Führer himself. He talked them into allowing him to form a Free India Legion from Indian prisoners taken in the Middle East. The Germans thought that at some point they might be useful to stir up the tribes on the Northwest Frontier. In the meantime, they could make themselves useful in the Mediterranean. Bose felt that Europe was too far from the centre of action; he had absolutely no interest in the acquisition of Lebensraum in the vastness of Russia for the greater glory of the Reich. He needed to be near India. The outbreak of the Pacific War gave him his chance. With his characteristic dynamism and persuasiveness he obtained passage on a U-boot to the Indian Ocean, where he was transferred to a Japanese submarine off Madagascar. They landed him on the north coast of Sumatra, where he caught a flight to Tokyo. He was met by his old friend Colonel Yamamoto, who had been military attaché at the Japanese Embassy in Berlin. There, at the heart of the Japanese Empire, he managed through a mixture of charm, bluster and sheer force of will to get an audience with Prime Minister Tojo.
Tojo was convinced that he could do business with Bose. Here was a man with big dreams and the will to realise them. India freed from the British Empire might be a useful ally someday. India in turmoil within the Empire would be better still. Tojo ordered that arrangements be made for him to be transported to Singapore, where he was met by the leaders of the League. Within days, he had mesmerised everyone who was anyone and a good many nobodies besides. He put new life into the League. Rash Behari was sidelined. Netaji was the man in the centre. With his tireless energy he galvanised the movement. The dispirited INA found new hope. Netaji went all over Malaya making speeches. He demanded three lakhs of soldiers. Recruitment soared. They were no longer taking in former Indian Army sepoys; that well was dry. The new volunteers came from the domiciled Indian communities in Malaya and the Straits Settlements. Most were Tamils, a race considered by the British fit only to be sappers and miners. Habibullah’s Depot Regiment found itself with more men than they could cope with. To the existing three regiments of the Azad Hind Fauj was added a fourth: the Subhas Brigade it was called, after the Netaji himself. It ranked first in the line of battle, ahead of the Gandhi, Azad and Nehru Regiments.
By October Netaji was ready for his greatest political coup de théâtre. He addressed a crowd which filled the Cathay Cinema and overflowed into the street. The Provisional Government of Free India, Azri Hukumat-e-Azad Hind, was proclaimed. “Give me your blood, and I will give you freedom!” thundered Netaji. The assembled multitude responded with thunderous applause and shouts of acclamation. The governments of Japan, Germany and their allies recognised the Provisional Government within days. Free India in turn declared war on Great Britain and the United States. At last the INA had a government to which it could pledge allegiance, not just to an ideal. “Free India” had no territory. Netaji got the Japanese to transport him to Port Blair in the Andaman Islands, the only bit of India under Japanese occupation. Symbolically, he raised the green-white-orange tricolour of Free India; this was the flag of Congress, with a springing tiger in the centre. There were speeches and ceremonies and photographs for the newspapers. After everyone had gone home, the Japanese garrison commander had the Indian flag lowered again. The Hinomaru hoisted back up. They weren’t about to concede any actual territory to the Azri Hukumat-e-Azad Hind.
Bose knew that the Provisional Government could not stay in Singapore. Singapore was a dead end. Inactivity would kill the independence movement. It was a movement almost in the literal sense; if they stopped men would drop away. He badgered Iwakuro to have them moved to Rangoon. This was the closest he could get to India. He threatened and cajoled. He went over Iwakuro’s head to his superiors, reminding them that he had the ear of General Tojo. They gave in. It was too much trouble to argue with this demanding and imperious Indian. Let the Burma Army deal with him. Tokyo concurred. The whole apparatus of the provisional government was duly moved to Rangoon. With it went the fighting units of the INA, including the newly-formed Rani of Jhansi Regiment consisting entirely of women.
Rangoon was the seat of the government of Burma. President Ba Maw welcomed Netaji as a fellow head of state. Burma was independent in theory. It even had its own army. The Burma Independence Army under Aung San had marched with the Japanese when they drove out the British. But it got too big and popular. Once the British were gone, the BIA was reduced to a more manageable size and given garrison duties. Its soldiers wore Japanese uniforms and were drilled by Japanese instructors. The best officers were sent to Japan for training. Bose was determined that the INA should not suffer that fate. He insisted that the units be kept together under their own officers. They reported to INA Headquarters, not to the Imperial Japanese Army. Netaji was Supreme Commander; there were to be no more ersatz generals like Mohan Singh. When the Japanese planned their thrust at Manipur, Netaji insisted that the INA should be part of the offensive. This was the way to India. Imphal and Kohima were the keys to Manipur. Beyond Kohima was Dimapur, the railhead and main British logistics base in Assam. Take Kohima and the road to Dimapur would be open. And beyond that lay Bengal, his own homeland.
Habibullah had only met Netaji in person once, when the senior officers of the INA had been presented to him. It was enough. He fell immediately under Bose’s spell. Here was a real leader, not a long-winded head-in-the-clouds politician. This was the man to lead them to the promised land. The INA would be the instrument of liberation. Re-energised, Habibullah threw himself into the task of turning the motley crew of coolies, peons and babus into real soldiers. The Depot Regiment was transferred to Taiping, where the 29th Army had its headquarters. Singapore was getting too crowded and the food situation was deteriorating. Unemployed Indian soliders were just useless mouths to the Japanese. The transfer suited Habibullah fine. He got permission to set up a training camp on the road to Grik. The men could be properly trained in jungle warfare there. The distractions of the city were far away. There were Chinese guerillas active in the jungles around. He had no quarrel with them. Indeed, they were fighting for the same thing as he was, freedom from colonial rule; except that the ironies of war had placed them on opposite sides. Habibullah gave instructions that the guerillas were not to be molested. When his troops bumped into them in the jungle, they pretended that they weren’t there. The guerillas soon got the idea. They too pretended that the Indians were part of the local fauna. Habibullah had his men out in the jungle every day and most nights. He drilled them with a ferocity that would have impressed even Lieutenant-Colonel Holmes. When the news came that the 1st INA Division was being shipped to Burma his spirits soared. This was it, the time had come.
He was in for a disappointment. Orders came from Headquarters that the Depot Regiment would remain in Malaya to continue processing the stream of recruits. He would remain with them as their commanding officer. His superiors told him that he had a vital task. Keep the pipeline filled, they said. No one can do a better job than you, they said. He resented their transparent lies. They obviously didn’t trust him. He hadn’t fought the Japanese. His regiment had surrendered without firing a shot. The Bhurtpores had forfeited all honour. They were mutineers, and he was their leader.
The humiliation could not be borne. He marched right up to the staff colonel in charge and requested to be relieved of his command. He wanted to be in the fight. He demanded to be at the front. The colonel commiserated. He tried to placate Habibullah. No need for precipitate action, he counselled. Perhaps in the next draft of replacements, he said soothingly. Habibullah would not be fobbed off. Back in his quarters, he dashed off a letter to Netaji. He offered his services in any capacity. He would fight in the ranks as an ordinary jawan if necessary. The reply came a fortnight later, signed by Netaji’s military secretary. Netaji understood Lieutenant-Colonel Habibullah’s feelings. He had decided to accede to his request for a posting. The Lieutenant-Colonel would reliquish his local rank and revert to his substantive rank of major. He would be given command of the a company in one of the line regiments. Posting orders would follow forthwith. Never had demotion been so sweet.
“I envy you,” said Chaudery while Habibullah packed.
“They also serve who only stand and wait,” replied Habibullah, surprised at himself for recovering the dimly-remembered quotation from his school days. He clapped his hand on Chaudery’s shoulder. “I’ve put in a word for you to take my place. It’s practically in the bag. It’ll mean promotion.”
“Thanks for that,” responded Chaudery. “Take care. Don’t go charging tanks or any such tomfoolery.” They shook hands and parted with an almost English reserve.
Habibullah climbed into the staff car that was to take him to the docks. Three Bedford three-tonners followed. Nisar Ahmad of course insisted on coming with him. So had a handful of his men, mostly old Bhurtpores. He had handpicked the others, men he felt could be trusted to buy into the regimental tradition. These men were meant as replacements to be distributed among the units of the INA. Habibullah had other plans. He meant to keep them together as his own Praetorian Guard. He would show them all — British, Indian and Japanese — what stuff the Bhurtpores were made of.
24
GENERAL MUTAGUCHI RENYA’S 15th Army was responsible for the Imphal-Kohima campaign. Mutaguchi was a veteran of Malaya, having commanded the 18th Division there. It was his men who had attacked and taken Kota Bahru. He had no great regard for British troops, or for Indian ones for that matter. The Japanese 33rd Division was tasked with taking Imphal. On the headquarters staff of 33rd Division was Lieutenant-Colonel Fujiwara Iwaichi of the now-superseded Fujiwara Kikan. He met his Indian friends with delight. The delight was mutual. Over a glass of sake, Fujiwara explained that they were on trial. Not everyone was so pleased to see them. They were considered by many to be a drain on resources. Fujiwara, who was Intelligence Officer for the division, appreciated the value that INA troops might have in weakening the resolve of their opposite numbers in the Indian Army. If they could replicate the tactics that had served them so well in Malaya, they could achieve outstanding results. But his was very much a minority view. The prevailing opinion was that Indian troops were only good as labourers. At a pinch they could be deployed to secure the rear areas in order to relieve Japanese units from the menial task. As fighting troops, they had a dismal reputation. They would have to prove themselves.
The battle was in full swing when Habibullah’s men disembarked at Rangoon. He had gotten his way as far as his unit was concerned. Normally, replacement drafts would be fed piecemeal to whichever units needed them. Habibullah tried to convince Headquarters that he had a functioning company, drilled to a high standard and ready to fight as a unit. They were sceptical. He persisted, threatening to take his case to Netaji himself. At length they consented to consider the matter. He mounted a demonstration for the brass-hats. In an open field outside Rangoon his men were deployed to take a position defended by a platoon of the Azad Regiment. The defenders were old hands, blooded in battle and disdainful of the newcomers. They didn’t take his motley crew seriously. The hours of unrelenting drill paid off. While one platoon fixed the attention of the defenders with a feint, the rest of the company crept along a neglected nullah to take them in the rear. The Azads didn’t know what hit them. The position was overrun quickly and with professional flair. Habibullah was pleased; the men had not let him down. They had performed like veterans. The headquarters staff saw the advantages of keeping the unit together rather than breaking it up. The 6th Guerilla Company was activated and officially designated a supernumerary unit of the Subash Brigade. It went into the line at Tamu, southeast of Imphal.
The INA troops around Tamu were in a wretched state. Half of them were sick with malaria. Supplies arrived intermittently. They made do with biscuits and tea. The Japanese were never much good at logistics even at the best of times. Under the stress of operations, the supply system fell to pieces. If it hadn’t been for food and ammunition captured from the British, the INA would have been in a very bad way indeed. The tactics that had served them so well in Malaya did not work in Burma. Apart from anything else, the INA was trained as a regular force, to fight face-to-face rather than subvert the enemy. This was the dream of the Provisional Government: that Free Indian troops would march victorious over the border, not sneak in behind the invading Japanese like jackals following a tiger.
But even if they had tried to seduce their opponents with the siren song of Indian independence rather than attack them openly, success would not have been assured. In Malaya, the Indian troops had been shaken by the speed of the Japanese advance and the rapid disintegration of the British. Their morale had been undermined by the suspicions of their erstwhile comrades-in-arms and the open racism of the white civilian population. The 14th Army in Burma was a different proposition. Lieutenant-General William Slim had been an officer in the 6th Gurkha Rifles. He was a much better fighting leader than Lieutenant-General Percival, a staff-wallah whose rabbit-toothed visage did not inspire his men with confidence. Slim knew how to handle Indian troops. He treated them with respect and cared for their welfare. They responded with loyalty and fortitude in adversity. In Burma, Slim’s Indian regiments redeemed the honour of the Indian Army that had been lost in the disastrous campaign in Malaya.
Habibullah’s company were light infantry, without support weapons. The other INA battalions went into battle as regular infantry in set-piece assaults on prepared positions. Ironically, they were using the same tactics that had so signally failed against the Japanese in Malaya. They were beaten back with heavy losses. Habibullah had no intention of making that mistake. His long odyssey with the Japanese Army had taught him that a frontal attack in the jungle was futile. The Japanese had won by exploiting their mobility. “Around, not through,” he exhorted his men. They did as they had been trained. The tactics worked. First one, then another and then a third position fell to the 6th Guerilla Company. The bottleneck at Tamu was uncorked. The British fell back towards Imphal.
The success of Habibullah’s men was gratifying. 6th Guerilla Company unofficially adopted the name of the Bhurtpores. The stigma of surrender had been expunged. Brigade HQ was impressed. They were even more impressed when the Bhurtpores stormed an impregnable position at Klang Klang. This was a fortified hilltop which the British used as an observation post. It was surrounded on three sides by sheer cliffs. The fourth side was strung with barbed wire and sown with mines. The Japanese themselves had failed to take it. Habibullah scanned the position. His men were from the foothills of the Himalayas. They weren’t intimidated by heights. Picking the most agile of his troops, Habibullah led the way up what seemed to be an unscalable precipice. The defenders were taken completely by surprise. A couple of well-placed grenades knocked out the machine-gun nests covering the approaches. The Bhurtpores were at the summit before the British could react. INA Headquarters heard of the feat. Habibullah was summoned by the divisional commander. He was promoted once again, to a substantive and not a local rank. Lieutenant-Colonel Habibullah was tasked with training more troops like his Bhurtpores.
Meanwile, the campaign proved much tougher than the Japanese had anticipated. In Malaya three divisions had sufficed to rout the British and Indian Armies. They thought that three divisions would be enough to do the same to the 14th Army. They were mistaken. The British and Indians held on with an unexpected tenacity. They were resupplied from the air when the Imphal-Kohima Road was cut. The RAF had air superiority and exploited it to deliver food and ammunition to their troops in the Imphal pocket. Kohima obstinately refused to fall even though it was defended initially only by the 161st Indian Brigade against the weight of a full Japanese division. INA reconnaissance patrols probed the defences looking for weak spots. They were beaten back. The stubborness of the Indian defence surprised the Japanese. This wasn’t the sepoy rabble that they had beaten so easily two years before. But the Japanese equally refused to give up. They kept hammering away at the British and Indian positions. When all else failed, in a frenzy of frustration they would make a banzai charge. Sometimes it worked; most of the time it didn’t.
