2nd Recce In South East Asia

At the end of March 1945, we had just finished clearing out a area from Myingan to Mektilla to Pindale, a large area and containing many pockets of Japanese, who though not in good shape and lacking supplies, were never the less something to be taken care of.

We, the 2nd div, had been selected to go back to the Calcutta area and prepare for the amphibious landing on Rangoon. We flew out of Myingan, on DC3s, and from Dum Dum airport in Calcutta, proceeded to a place called Kanchaprara. The camp was next to a U.S. base and covered a large area, they had a PX and we were allowed to visit.

They had stuff that we had only dreamed of: large cans of juice, chocolate bars, cereal, free bingo games and all kinds of prizes. We were like kids in a candy shop.

They had a stockade and the prisoners were led out in Leg irons about 3 feet apart and shuffled off to a pile of empty cans, a large pile, each man as he passed picked up a can and then shuffled off to the anvil which was about 75 yards away and once there he plced the can on the anvil and then picked up a large hammer, flattened the can and then picked it up and shuffled off to another pile of flattened cans, placed it on the pile and then back once again to the original pile, to start all over again. All this in high temperatures and high humidity.

We had lots to do to make the camp what it should be, so we were kept busy for a while but we were allowed to go to Calcutta on day trips via army transport.

I went once and the reason I did not go back was on the first visit I was with a friend and and we stopped at a beergarden on Chowringee, the main drag, and it was full of British and Americans, soon a fight broke out and I thought I knew what was going to happen so we made our way to the nearest exit and sure enough a squad of US Military police broke in and waded in to the melee. We did not wait to see how it ended, but credit must be given to the police, they sure know how to break up a fight.

It was humid there at that time and the showers were only available certain times of the day, but to no avail because before one could dry off one was wet again with perspiration. If one was to lie down on ones bed on the blanket, after a few minutes, on getting up,the outline of your body would be left behind.

It was at this time that the commanding officer Col. Bradford got us together and standing on a box, gave us talk and notified us that he had been awarded the D.S.O. He said it belonged to the regiment as much as to him. It was for the effort of the whole Regt that he had received it and we should feel that we all shared it. Ellis was heard to say he would ask the Commanding Officer if he could borrow "our" medal for the day on a proposed trip to Calcutta. It was not reported if he did.

We did not stay there for long. Soon the main part of the Regt. left and I stayed behind with the rear party. I can only assume that the scheme to attack Rangoon by sea had been aborted. Our job was to clear the camp and and what was not to be taken with us was to be returned.

The only item of interest that took place was a soccer tournament, and that was only because the C.O. had notified us that he had 6 bottles of beer and he would award them to the best team in a 6 a side soccer tournament. Six a side soccer on a full size field is very tough so the halves were cut down to 30 mins, if not there would have been no one left to do the work.

At this time the war in Europe was in its final stages, with the Russians coming from the East and the Allies coming from the West, Americans advancing in the Pacific, Burma being cleaned up, so we were thinking of how long before we got to go home. There were thousands of British troops, and nothing to do really. India was getting ready to turf us out of the country so they could gain independence, and we could not wait to go.

However there was the chore of rescuing the prisoners of the Japanese, and they were many. More of that later.

We eventually left Kanchaprara and went by train, as usual lots of rumors, but no substance, we finally arrived at Hyderabad and from there went by road to a place called Kamareddi, about 80 miles North of Hyderabad and south of Nizambad. Nothing to speak of just some tents in a jungle like area alongside the main road to Hyderabad. The whole division was in that area, we found our squadrons and settled in, we were to stay in this area for quite a while, but there was not much to do except for cookhouse and guard duties, so lots of sports activities were the order of the day.

Straw huts were erected in place of the tents, a golf course was built simply because someone found two field hockey sticks, and a few golf balls turned up from somewhere, cigarette tins in the ground became the holes, and the course wound its way through the trees. Line ups for a game became a regular thing, but the most important necessity was the spotters who had to follow the flight of the ball to ensure that it did not get lost. A marquee became our activity area and games somehow turned up, Darts, Totopoly & Monopoly.

Then August 14th 1945, The bomb dropped and it was all over.

We started to get replacements, and the grand scheme became clear: all we had to do was train a replacement for the Regiment.

From June 1944 we had been receiving new people, so these became the backbone of the new regiment in so much as they had some experience. Classes were started in everything. I did Wireless operating and Wireless Proceedure, so we had to train Signals, cooks, weapons of every kind, transport and maintenance, records, stores, armoury specialists.

From these all the N.C.Os for the new Regiment would be picked, Officers would be assigned from Officers schools. The N.C.Os and other ranks of the regiment were given the chance to sign on for two more years and get a 2 promotion raise, from trooper to Cpl.or from cpl to Sgt.or Sgt Major etc, but not too many took it. We had had enough!!.

A Sgt.of our signal troop went to officers school after signing up for two more years and he was home in England before I was discharged, before he finished the oficers school he was given his promotion and shipped out. India wanted us out.


Ellis.:-

As we marched through Burma, one of the more persistant rumours to come down the column almost daily, was that the Regiment was going to be transferred to the European theatre of war, where our skills as an armoured unit could be put to better use. This wishful thinking had followed us from the moment we first set foot in India.

We were so sure that an armoured car regiment could not operate in the jungle. That type of action was only suitable for the PBI (the poor bloody infantry). The Big Brass agreed, and quickly solved the problem by dismounting us and putting the regiment back on its feet. So we had plodded daily down the jungle trails, refusing to accept the fact that it was actually happening, and that by the next week we would be driving triumphantly through some Italian city to the smiles and cheers of a liberated populace.

Empty dreams, for in reality, we were usually met with few broken down huts, and a half starved mongrel dog, or a distraught chicken, fluttering and cackling its way to safety. Ask the name of the place and back would come the usual answer "I dunno, But I hear that next week we're going to be sent to Europe".

This time however there was some truth to the report.

After the battle for Mandalay and the clearing and securing of the surrounding areas, the relief of Rangoon became the next objective.

This was to entail an assault by sea in conjunction with a land attack. Perhaps because we had been trained in the use of 'Alligators' which were tracked amphibious vehicles capable of carrying four tons of supplies or troops, we may have been destined to be part of the seaborne attack. In any event we were flown out to a camp just outside of Calcutta. A much more civilised place than we had experienced for over a year. It had been part of the US forces operation for it had huts, cots, showers, even a canteen, from which we were able to purchase cigarettes and pop. We were also able to make trips into Calcutta and observe it’s teeming life and the many contrasts between opulence and abject poverty.

It was the beginning of June and very hot and the cold showers were in great demand, but in order to conserve water they were only turned on fifteen or twenty minutes a day. Bert Aldred found out that for some reason the showers were activated for about an hour at four AM so he and I would sneak over and enjoy the luxury of a long cold shower. After three days, the early morning trips aroused suspicion and we were joined by one or two more escapees from the sweat pits. Before long, we were joined by the rest of the lads and the ensuing activity brought a sudden end to that small luxury.

Bert’s next bright idea was that in order to escape duties such as drill, cookhouse fatigue, etc. we would report sick. So we went on sick parade the next day. Bert got the usual remedy, a laxative and return to duties.

The Medical Officer took one look at me, diagnosed Dengue Fever and packed me off to hospital. I was there about five days and when I returned 'D-Day' in Europe was announced and we were due to move again.

What may have had some influence upon our eventual destination were the reccuring announcements from London by a Secretary of State for War. He would make announcements from time to time regarding the length of service by British troops in the Far Eastern Theater of war, stating that the term of service was down from four years to three years eight months.
This was somewhat of a revelation to to some of the troops who were into their fifth year.

This was followed by another announcement in July, reducing the term to three years four months. The problem was that the Secretary, PJ Grigg, seemed to be out of touch with reality, for South East Asia Command's ability to provide the necessary replacement troops or the transport home, could not keep pace with the promises.

So we left Calcutta behind and made our way by road and rail to Kamareddi, North of Hyderabad, biding our time and envying the U/S forces their six month tour of duty as well as our own Airforce personel, able to return home after two and a half years, as with most Navy personnel.

The situation was somewhat explained by Admiral Mountbatten who paid us a surprise visit. With very little warning we were hurriedly paraded. He arrived with a small entourage in a couple of jeeps. He commandeered a large Dixie (a lidded stewpot) from the cooktent to use as a platform and told us to break ranks and gather around, much to the consternation of our officers. He thanked us for our efforts throughout the campaign and apologized for the false hopes that the war office had raised and after a few slightly derogatory remarks regarding Mr Grigg, explained the situation regarding the transport, with the first priority being the repatriation of prisoners. He stated that delays there may be in sending us home, but that we would definitely not be going into action again. We appreciated his honesty and candor and accepted the delay.

Shortly after his visit the dropping of the 'A' bomb on Hiroshima on the sixth of August was confirmation enough. During our enforced stay in Kamareddi we made the most of what entertainment we could hatch up. Ted and Ernie Parker found a couple of hockey sticks, which in it self was sufficient to inspire building a golf course around them. Progressing slowly up from one tin can sunk in the ground for a pot shot target, to makeshift tracks laid out through the undergrowth. The course expanded as further tin cans were obtained, arousing more and more interest, until there was a waiting list to get on the course. No green fees or rather 'dirt' fees were needed. It got quite competitive.

It was here that Lightfoot, ever the artist, whittled a small figure from the handle of his toothbrush, which he peddled, for a packet of cigarettes, to an unsuspecting comrade, as a Burmese god carved from ivory. So successful was the venture that he resorted to snapping off toothbrush handles on the sly. Only when most of his pals were seen to appear to be swallowing their fists, as they attempted to brush their teeth with two inch toothbrushes, was it apparent where the ivories where coming from, although the reds and greens should have been dead giveaway.

In an effort to relieve the monotony of waiting to go home, we resurrected games from our youth. One was 'Tin Can Lurkey', a game played by the adolescent boys in Lancashire mill towns. Probably because it required little in the way of equipment other than a tin can, a length of rope, and an assortment of sticks, broomhandles, or anything that could be used as a club. The rules were simple. The designated swinger would stand in the middle of a circle of boys and whirl the rope, with the tin can tied on the end, around his head and the surrounding players would try to hit it as it swung past. A good blow would make it accelerate suddenly causing the next hitter to miss or sometimes misjudge his swing and get his knuckles or the side of his head or shoulder whacked, which introduced the element of risk that always seemed to be needed in boy's games.

It was harmful enough when played as adolescents but in the hands of the robust and rash, with more energy than sense, it was disastrous. I suppose the object of the game was survival of the fastest. Oftimes the only survivor was the swinger. Sometimes a more fearsome blow would cause the can to release from its tether and fly off seeking to decapitate some
innocent bystander. It was found to be causing almost as many casualties as we had suffered in action, and was banned and replaced by the more gentle game of 'Piggy'or ‘Butt and Stick’, a game in which a small piece of broomstick about two inches long, tapered at one end, was flipped into the air with a whack from a stick and while airborne was struck again sending it as far as possible, followed by a challenge as to who could pace the ensuing distance out in the least number of strides.

Old Cotton Town games from a less affluent era. Games that did not require a fortune spent in brand name equipment to enjoy; just enthusiasm.


It made the waiting to go home more bearable...

 

One of the comforts provided for our mental and spiritual well being, was the mobile cinema which consisted of a truck, an NCO, a couple of helpers, and of course projector and screen.
When we were lucky enough to be back behind lines and in a rest area, the movie unit would arrive and set up shop by searching out a clearing and erecting a portable screen. Then, when darkness fell, with the audience squatting on the ground and the projector set up behind, on the deck of the truck, they presented whatever movie they had been able to scrounge.

These were not your first run blockbusters by any means, but after weeks of nothing but bullets, bugs, and bush, we treated them as such. More so, since the visits by the unit were few and far between. Having only one projector required a long pause between reels, and some times, due to the lack of light in the 'projection room' the wrong reel would be shown, which resulted in victims killed in the first scenes, being suddenly returned to life, or great puzzlement as to who the strange new characters were, that had put in an appearance.

Sometimes the only indication that the movie was over was when King George appeared with the playing of the National Anthem. This was a separate reel that always ended performances in British theatres. At this display we were all compelled to spring to attention, for to do otherwise was to display contempt to the King, whereupon, some Sgt. anxious to assert his authority, would bear down and accuse you of insubordination. Although we knew that his Majesty was completely unaware of any disrespect being shown him in this far flung corner of his empire, nor could he care less. It was this adherence to protocol, coupled with the mismanagement of reels that caused us to leap to our feet three times during the showing of "Reveille with Beverley". This was audience participation of the worst kind.


Future movies would never be as memorable.








REQUIEM

In the deep green silence
By a lonely jungle track
In peace they lie together
nor does it matter whether
the skin be yellow, white, or black.

The jungle was their jousting ground
Filled with soldiers bold,
Where warrior fought warrior
And did as they were told.

Silence shattered, green turned red,
As they vied for each bloodsoaked track.
It was theirs for one brief, fierce moment,
till nature took it back.

The creatures of the forest, that kept the jungle law,
Cowered in the shadows, for nature never was that raw.
Now the trees above shed leafy tears as they bow their heads and sigh
and the sleepers in the silence, do they often wonder why.

 

That's it, the story of Ted Hughes and Ellis Mossley in Burma with the 14th Army, 2nd Division.

I hope you have enjoyed their memoirs.

On this monday just gone, I went to the National Archives and looked at the War Diaries for 2RR, and also POW interviews etc, in an effort to discover some detail about my Grandad's time. Sadly, there was nothing there at all that I could find on that first visit. I wasn't down hearted, as I hadn't expected much either way.


When I came home that day, I had an email from Mr Mossley, totally out of the blue.


Quite spooky, isn't it, that he shares his name with my first born child...



Kind regards, all.

Pics will be uploaded when I get them.

 

Great reading.

Cheers
Paul

 

Here's some pics Mr Mossley sent me.

Ellis on the way to Poona and Poona meal-call