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One of my tours of duty was with the 1st battalion of the 6th Gurkha Rifles who were to be part of the 64th Brigade of the 19th Indian Division. I was the Officer in charge of the mules.

After a months wait the mules arrived from South America. At Poona Veterinary College I learnt about the habits and behaviour of these fine beasts and their care in case we had no Veterinary officer with us. Unfortunately mules were practically unknown in India. Horses on which we had to practice did not have the staying power or agility of mules and they panicked too easily. Mules are the result of bringing together a male donkey and a mare horse. They have the distinctive features of male and female and have immensely strong haunches.

On arrival the mules were bucking and rearing, obviously upset by their long journey in cramped conditions. There were two characters who attracted most attention once we had secured them by their hooves and cleaned them up.

Bert was a really fine looking animal, a giant in stature and gentle in nature. In comparison, Daisy seemed undernourished and resisted every attempt to make friends. She would rise up on her hind legs, eyes flashing, teeth bared before lashing out the next moment with a vicious kick on her hind legs. Here was the moment when I had to step in if I was to gain respect from both the men and this animal. I stayed with her for the next 24 hours cooing and talking. I put Bert next door to calm her down. Gradually her fear died down and she became more amenable to being cleaned with a curry comb. This was quite an experience as her skin moved as if she was being tickled because the comb had teeth.

The advice I had over the training was to develop a close relationship between animal and driver. This was done by a week of hardening up both animal and man with long exhausting walks. This was done to help both mule and driver to get used to each other and to the special saddles designed to carry the future loads of ammunition and reserves of food for men and beasts. Exciting times were spent surmounting obstacle courses and crossing rivers.

Crossing rivers was not easy as Gurkhas can’t swim and getting man and beast to the other side proved quite a headache. There were two rivers in Burma, the Chindwin and Irrawaddy to be crossed. The answer seemed to be to get the animal used to a whistle at feed time and then for the only swimmer, being myself, to swim to the other side and on the blast from my whistle to get the animal with driver holding onto the tail to follow the leader one by one across to the other side. For this, one needed a good leader. Most practices ended with a string of animals deciding at the half way mark to follow each other back home to where they had started.

In October 1944 the mules were transported to Manipure in North East India on the border of Burma. On the journey I was able to stop off at Lahore for 12 hours. Here my fellow officer and I visited an eating place called Stiffles where there was an orchestra. There I made friends with an Indian family seated nearby. I was foolish and bold enough to ask if their pretty daughter would like to dance. Before I left the family revealed that the beautiful girl was a film star called Mamorma. Other towns we visited were Delhi, Lucknow, Allahabad and Jupplepore.

The whole journey from the jungle training camp to our destination took several days across central India over the Bramaputra river up to the railhead at Dimapore in the Manipore state. Here we were greeted by devastation made worse by the monsoon rain which was left after the heroic stand of the British troops at Kohima and Imphal the capital of the Manipore state. Much of the fighting here had been at very close quarters and in fact saved the invasion of India. News came that our 19th (dagger) Division was to act in small units as long range penetration or guerilla bands. From the time we unloaded the mules life was one long trudge covering 140 miles in 28 days, up to 20 miles a day. At the end of each day we had to dig slit trenches in which we had to sleep in case of attack. We also had to find clearings for food and ammunition for drops by an airplane and even food for the mules. Life was a long search for the enemy and constant skirmishes. In fact the only time we had a full blooded fight was at Mandalay.

The war in Burma was so unusual as sickness played almost a bigger part than deaths or wounds. 25 000 troops fell ill from malaria, dysentery and diarrhoea over the campaign. Our task as a self-contained unit on a pack basis was to harass and destroy enemy lines of communication thus speeding their retreat. Weather at times was ghastly either from heat, humidity or wet. Contact with the enemy was so close that there were moments when we were staring at each other over the edge of a slit trench and instant reaction saved lives. At times a gentle whinny from a mule at night provided excellent protection.

There were times when our clothing was torn, quite often the supply of socks ran out and the ‘where-with-all’ to shave was unobtainable. The 70lb packs on our backs contained 3 days light scale jungle rations and we found the American ‘K’ packs of dried fruit, dried meat, sugar, tea and large square biscuits a good stand by. We also carried a ground sheet to make a shelter, spare shirt and socks and spare ammunition was essential as the lines of supply were non-existent and drops by plane were doubtful.

As we left the jungle areas of Burma and reached more open country the mode of fighting was quite different and we had the use of air strike support and even help from light tanks and artillery as we neared Mandalay. It was at this stage that I had to be evacuated by light aircraft as various cuts and grazes had turned septic. An airstrip was prepared over dried up paddy fields and we flew just over the trees to the nearest casualty camp. I had not slept on a bed or between sheets for many months and the effect was a real morale booster. Once the wounds dried up and healed, I then had the problem of finding my way back to my unit. I eventually cadged a lift in a Dakota plane, piloted by Americans which was carrying food supplies to forward areas.

The Martin family - Kalaw

Soon after Mandalay was taken it became the task of our battalion to push off up in to the hills to the east to eradicate the remaining Japanese forces. We were back in the jungle now and back with our mules. To get to the Kalaw strong point we had either to go up a narrow gorge or try and climb along the ridge of the hills either side. After experiencing shells dropping, it was decided to try and follow the ridge path. One unfortunate incident that happened on the road was when one of my mules lost half a leg and I had to shoot him. The driver was also wounded and died in my arms as we were trying to adjust the mule’s load. Luckily I had dived in to a ditch when I had heard the gun go off further up the valley. Later I discovered that some of the driver’s quick death was due to a failure to take his salt tablets needed for heat exhaustion. After some desperate defensive battles by the enemy we eventually reached Kalaw having endured no food or water for two days.

While in this lovely mountain resort I befriended the Martin family. It was now June 1945. I met the Martin family on the outskirts of the town when we were carrying out clearing up operations to ensure that the remnants of the local enemy forces were not hiding in a last ditch stand. The family consisted of father who was an Anglo-Indian and had worked on the Burma railway. Then there was his wife who was pure Burmese and spoke little English. Of the children John was aged about seventeen and had just left school. He wanted to be an engineer and I suspect had been a member of a group working behind Japanese lines. There were five daughters, two married one of whom dressed in Burmese fashion and three unmarried girls, Mary aged 31 who was thin and asthmatic. Charlotte was 22 a very sweet girl, excellent cook and very good natured. There was a small daughter of 8 not seen at her best, being unwell and rather sulky and shy.

The family had just come up to their holiday home in Kalaw travelling via jungle footpaths after they had to leave Mandalay in a hurry when the Japanese were disturbed after we had pushed them out of the city. There was now a general exodus of the Japanese from Burma into Indo-China after Rangoon had also fallen to complete the re-taking of the whole of Burma.

In Kalaw the Martin family appear to have been more or less left alone early on as the Japanese had only used Kalaw as a rest and hospital centre. The family told us that money lost its value rapidly but obtaining food was not too difficult as the villagers were allowed to carry on farming. Clothes, soap and other luxuries were nearly unobtainable, expensive and of very poor quality. The family further went on to tell us that the local nuns, the local priest, six Danes and the consul were left alone as was an English retired major and his Burmese wife and child. Also, an airman shot down nearby seems to have been reasonably well treated. The Martins had looked after the elderly major and his daughter after his wife had died. At the time the old man had threatened suicide but not long after died of ill health. Another old lady who we found on patrol had been given a ticket to wear on her clothing as an enemy subject and her movement had been restricted. We also came across two English missionaries who had been given refuge by the villagers during the occupation having failed to escape a couple of years earlier. Most people were left alone. This relatively sympathetic treatment emphasises the difference between the Japanese civilian administration staff behaviour and the military. Kalaw had become a training centre for Japanese military Police that were quite well educated and wore civilian clothes, gave dances and spoke reasonable English. Mr Martin had been employed on the railway but he and the family wanted to impress on us that they had not collaborated with the enemy. In fact I suspected that the boys who had worked on the aerodrome had not been above a bit of sabotage.

The family went on to explain that when the Japanese started to drift back through Kalaw after Mandalay was taken, life was more difficult. Looting had started for food and clothes. Due to low morale and a lack of discipline their house had been entered one night at 3am and suitcases were opened up and unwanted clothes strewn all over the place and trampled on. Some of the soldiers had donned civilian clothes and cast aside their army jackets. Apparently spoons were a great novelty, pots of sugar, tea and coffee were confiscated. This was a sign of a demoralised and defeated army.

After these hair raising experiences the family decided to escape in to the jungle and were looked after by a civilian Ghurkha family. This is where I found them on patrol. I had been chasing up an Anglo-Indian who had co-operated with the Japanese. Mr Martin was very servile. The boys were naturally more reserved. I tried to get the family all the food I could and later managed to get them some clothes. I took the children to a film one night and took two of the girls to a dance. This was held at the Brigade HQ as the war was more or less over by then, Rangoon having been taken. I do remember a quiet bit of hand holding with Charlotte, with whom I danced most of the time.

The third day I had known the family, I was given a real Burmese meal at their home and we talked at the table until 10 o’clock. I then said my goodbyes as I was off the next day.

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