Chindit Affair by Brian Mooney

Author:Brian Mooney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: HISTORY / Modern / General
Publisher: Pen and Sword
Published: 2011-07-12T04:00:00+00:00

I recall that I was very aggressive in my outlook towards the Japanese during this period. Like the soccer enthusiast, however, I did all my fighting by proxy. It was a vicarious aggression, nurtured in, and launched from, the security of the spectators’ terraces. At this stage, I never actually went out into the field.

30 Column was sent to engage the enemy before the others. Theirs was the first, deliberately sought, face-to-face confrontation of our campaign. Naturally I was wild with excitement. I expected a resounding victory and, as the estimated time of their attack drew nearer, I found myself in imagination eagerly projecting myself into their shoes at the place of engagement.

We were holed up as usual in dense jungle, but strung out along a well-demarcated although apparently unused track which cut across a steep, sharp slope. It was so steep that we had little option but to use the track for picketing the mules and other household arrangements, and there, as it got dark, we bedded down.

Dal Bahadur and I chose a place as far removed from Brigade Headquarters command post as possible. I might have been eager to engage the Jap, but I certainly didn’t want another confrontation with Briggo.

As daylight faded and night drew on, we indulged our imaginations by visualising the Gurkhas of 30 Column creeping towards the enemy with blacked faces, their kukris in their teeth. In this manner, and according to the best traditions of Errol Flynn, we fell asleep.

I was awakened by the distant stutter of machine guns. I looked at my watch. It was ten o’clock. I could see Dal Bahadur’s eyes gleaming beside me out of the darkness. I was glad he was awake. We sat up.

A hell of a hullabaloo was coming from the direction of the main road about two miles distant and it was difficult not to hug oneself with delight in contemplating what 30 Column were doing. It was possible to distinguish in addition to the stammer of their machine-guns, a crackle of controlled small arms fire, volley after volley, and the detonation of grenades.

Then all was quiet. Dal Bahadur and I were much too excited to go to sleep. The moon, which was just past its first quarter, sat behind trees.

Suddenly, from the direction of the road, there was the most frightful, deep-throated boom, which was followed by others. What could they be?

‘30 column is certainly giving it to them,’ I said to Dal Bahadur, doubtfully.

‘Yes, it is,’ he replied, equally doubtfully.

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