WAR CEMETERIES AND MEMORIALS

We flew on to Burma, landing at the old RAF airfield of Mingaladon which had a 1,930 yard runway extended by pierced steel planking – which is now used as the security fence. Mingaladon is a relatively modern airport.

Burma (now called Myanmar), the ‘Golden Land of Pagodas’ with its colourful patchwork of 135 ethnic groups , is in a time warp, resisting still many of the trappings of the modern world. We went to a splendid reception hosted by the British Ambassador HE Robert Gordon, at his residence, formerly the home of the managing director of the Irrawaddy Steam Ship company. The ambassador, whose father fought in Burma and whose uncle is buried at Htaukkyan Cemetery, played an important role in our successful mission to Thanbyuziat. The following day the group held a simple but moving service at Htaukkyan, led by an Australian missionary. 

All credit is due to Oscar Dewan and his band of gardeners for the superb way they maintain the gardens at the three cemeteries. Htaukkyan, commenced in 1951, holds 6,368 burials, many of the bodies being centralised from outlying sites at Akyab, Mandalay, Meiktila and Sahma; in addition to 16,380 men are recorded on the Rangoon Memorial – they have no known grave but they fought and died in the jungles, on the hills, in the valleys, and on the plains of Burma and Assam; many belonging to Orde Wingate’s Chindit Army.

From Htaukkyan the group headed for the Sittang River, east of Rangoon and of such vital importance in 1942. On 9 January 1942, 17th Indian Division, the ‘angry black cats’, under Major General Smythe VC arrived in Rangoon and shortly afterwards was despatched to Moulmein. Ill-prepared, with 25 per cent aged 18 or less, this division was no match for the Japanese 33rd Division. The Japanese arriving from Siam had by mid February pushed 17th Division to the banks of the Sittang river where a dramatic battle took place just east of the railway bridge – the remains of which still stand.

By a grievous misunderstanding the bridge was blown prematurely, with nearly the whole division trapped on the wrong side. The exultant Japanese fell upon the unfortunate men. For two days, in sultry dust filled air, attack after attack was held off until, with all hope lost, the brigades took to the water. Two men out of every three were lost during the mil-and-a-half swim across: a disaster that was partially redeemed   by great acts of devotion and courage.

After a tour of Rangoon, with its many colonial buildings, the maroon-bricked General Hospital and the old railway station with the famous turntable (the RAF/USAAF aiming point), the 2,500-year-old Schwedagon Pagoda, and a most memorable service in the Rangoon Anglican cathedral, we flew to Mandalay. We saw the great Irrawaddy river, the jungle through which the men fought and imagined the landing strips n the jungle clearings used by the Chindits.

Mandalay, once capital of Burma, has a population of about 850,000 people and is the cultural heart of this wonderful country. We visited Mandalay Hill, reached (for the fit only) by 1,700 steps and guarded by two gigantic chinthe statues; the Royal Palace destroyed in the final battle of March 1945; the ancient capital of Amarapura; Lake Taungthamar spanned by the ¾ mile teak U Bein bridge; and finally the famous Ava bridge, the only crossing point of the great river. Constructed in 1934 with 16 spans, it was blown up during the withdrawal in 1942 and rebuilt in 1954. The 19th Indian Division captured Mandalay Hill on 11 March 1945 and Fort Dufferin fell on the 20th. It was the 4/4/ Ghurkas who advanced through the rubble on the hill.

Our excursion to Maymyo was important to pilgrim Major John Winstanley MC, a veteran of Kohima (he was OC ‘C’ Coy, 4 Royal West Kents). “I was conceived here and of course my parents spent many happy years here.” It was of importance also to John and Daphne Bentley who relived happy days as they passed familiar buildings. Maymyo, a colonial hill station is reached after a three-hour bus journey through the Shan Hills, through paddy fields, and a landscape of bamboo fronds, toddy palms and huge mango and acid plum trees. At 3,510 feet it is delightfully cool and the pilgrims enjoyed a gentle walk around the botanical gardens laid out by Sir Harcourt Butler, governor of Burma during World War I.

However the climax to this Pilgrimage was the journey to Thanbyuziat. Always an uncertainty given the unrest in the Chin Hills and the reluctance of the Burmese authorities to allow foreigners to visit these parts, the day started ominously! We were informed by the Embassy that permission had been withdrawn – we decided to proceed to Rangoon airport, sprays and cameras in hand, all with our own thoughts. Neil Whitaker, Jerry Quinn and I were all concerned about the insurance implications of failure! We were all issued with boarding cards at 05:30 for our 06:00 flight and then nothing. Seven o’clock passed, as did eight and nine o’clock. Finally with immense relief we boarded the Air Mandalay fight at 10:10 hours accompanied by the Ambassador and Mrs Pam Gordon, plus Doris and Linda from the Embassy. All had been greatly supportive.

On landing at tiny Moulmein airport we were bundled into three mini buses with a strongly armed military escort front and rear for the 40 mile journey south. The road was quite good as we passed rubber plantations teak forests and tiny villages. There were no problems but we were glad of our smiling uniformed escorts. Finally we reached Thanbyuziat outskirts. There was a special feeling as we entered the village, for Thanbyuziat was the northern end of the infamous Siam-Burma railway. It emerges from Thailand via Three Pagodas Pass and id the same vista that those unfortunate souls would have seen as they laboured. Half a mile beyond the village was our destination: Thanbyuziat War Cemetery. It had eluded us for so long – hopes had been raised over the years only to be dashed.

And so it was that an elderly group of pilgrims entered sacred ground for the first time. Laid out in crescent shape, the immaculately kept cemetery commemorates 3,771 men. The gardeners, rightly proud of their work, were still polishing headstones. We held our service first, by the great cross, led by the Right Rev. Bishop of Rangoon. The Legion’s wreath was laid by Philip Rhodes, an RBL branch official and former Burma civil servant and the Exhortation was recited loud, clearly, and with great emotion by Paddy Thompson whose brother lies here. Burma army buglers played the Last Post and Reveille superbly; our smart standard bearer dipped his standard. Then we went our separate ways.

Paddy, of Co Down, Northern Ireland, a sergeant in the West African Rifles, was fighting in the Arakan on the west coast of Burma when he heard that is brother had died at Thanbyuziat.

“I vowed to visit as soon as I could” said Paddy, “never believing it would take 53 years. It has been worth it. I can still see is face so clearly.”

As Jeane Kelly of Surbiton laid her spray of poppies she said the farewell she had promised herself for over 50 years, to her father Private Leslie Rundle RASC.

“On the day my father left home to go to war, I had been a naughty girl and my mother wouldn’t let me go to the station. I have felt deprived, in a strange way, of saying goodbye to the Daddy I adored.”

Emotions ran high as the group reflected on the years that had gone by; years without a father, husband or brother. Mrs Gwen Ridley of London, accompanied by her daughter Dee Turner said she had been heartbroken when the news of her husband’s death came in late 1945.

“As the troops came home I went to Liverpool to meet them, hoping that Sidney was among them. How my heart sank when it was not to be. I had written nearly every week for two years. Not a single letter got through – they were all returned; and when that fateful telegram arrived it stated that he had died in August 1943. I had the terrible task of telling his parents. I cried for ever it seemed.”

The oldest member of the group, Mrs Nora Randall from Tewksbury, found her visit to Charles’ grave ‘breathtaking’.

“I cried over all our lost dreams. On the card attached to the poppies I placed on his grave I wrote: Darling, the years roll by but our love has not changed. With love – until we meet again.”

As the sun beat down and the strains of the bugles of the Burmese army drifted away into the hills, the pilgrims bad their farewells. Mrs Audrey Christie said, “After 53 years I was surprised at the depth of my emotion at his graveside. At the same time there was a sense of calm. Leslie had been laid to rest and this was my final act of farewell.”

As we left, I thanked the gardeners and turned back once more to read the inscription on the grave of a young lad who had died in 1943: “Only memories as I journey alone, longing for a smile from that face that is gone forever.” 

Verna Maher, a veteran nursing officer, made a private pilgrimage with me to the base of the Mandalay Hill. “I so wanted to show my respects to the men who died in this place, especially the Ghurkas. I had many Ghurka friends.” I suggested the trig. point which the soldiers would have seen as they formed up on their start line. “Yes”, said Verna, “They would appreciate that. I feel happy, well happier. I am not an emotional type but I did cry a bit as I laid the spray. Did that matter?” Of course it didn’t. 

Maurice Baxter, a Sittang veteran from Kent, found it incredible to be here after 54 years in all this peace and quiet.