Burma ’44 by Holland James

Author:Holland, James
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473526525
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2016-04-20T16:00:00+00:00

PART II

The Battle of the Admin Box

CHAPTER 13

The First Day: Morning

AROUND 10AM, SUNDAY, 6 February 1944. For the past two or three hours it had been raining and the narrow jungle tracks, dry and dusty at first light, were now slippery and turned to mud, so that the tracked Carrier carrying Brigadier Geoff Evans was sliding all over the place and struggling to make much progress.

This downpour was bitterly bad luck. Evans had been ordered to the 7th Division Administrative Area as quickly as possible, to take over its defence. No one knew whether General Messervy was alive or dead or now a prisoner of the Japs, but from the way General Briggs had spoken it was clear the assumption was that the division’s commander had been slain by the Japanese. The picture was certainly confused, although what was evident was that much of 7th Division was now surrounded and that the huge supply dump at Sinzweya was in critical danger of being overrun. Equally obvious was that time was running dangerously short; General Messervy’s HQ had been only a couple of miles to the north, a similar distance from the Administrative Area as 9th Brigade, and the division’s front line was to the south. For all he knew, it had already been overrun. Evans, who had taken over command of 9th Brigade only the day before, now found himself given the unenviable task of trying to save the whole division from annihilation.

Everything had happened so quickly. Before setting off, he had called Major Hugh Ley, the second-in-command of the 25th Dragoons and who had once served on his staff, and told him to meet him at Sinzweya with a troop of Lees as soon as he could. Then he handed over command of the brigade to Sally Salomons, told him to send the West Yorkshires to the Administrative Area and that, once the brigade front was organized, he and the brigade staff were to join them there too. Now he was heading north, the going frustratingly and painfully slow.

On the Carrier went, battling through unfamiliar jungle, lurching and sliding through the gelatinous mud, a powerful smell of oil, petrol fumes and sodden earth, until they reached a small uphill slope. Despite its tracks, the Carrier slithered and churned up mud but simply could not climb it. Deciding they had already wasted far too much time, Evans opted to clamber out and continue the journey on foot. At least he had his silver-tipped mountain stick; he had bought it in an Indian bazaar for next to nothing and it had accompanied him throughout the campaign in East Africa and through the battles in Egypt and Libya. A silver band around its top inscribed by the officers of his old battalion had added to its sentimental importance, but now, in the dank and dripping jungle, its practical value came to the fore as he hurried northwards.

Already busy and in action were the 25th Dragoons. Trooper John Leyin had dutifully followed the column of B Squadron tanks in Daphne, the squadron commander’s truck.

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