SE Asia, Sept-Oct 1945
On arrival at Mingaladon initial impressions were reasonably favourable. Being an inland site rather than coastal the rainfall was notably less, while our squadron's domestic site was down a sandy track in an area of low scrub and a few trees; best of all, we were directed to a new tent among a group already erected awaiting our arrival – a distinct improvement over our welcome at Akyab! However, there were drawbacks: the main one, given lesser rainfall due to an inland location plus the tail end of the monsoon season, that water (other than for drinking) was less easily come by, having to be collected by bucket from a barely adequate well some distance away.
At this time (latter part of August) only a cease-fire prevailed as there had been no official surrender by the Japanese, hostilities being suspended rather than ceased. To the east of Burma lay the vast areas of Thailand and French Indo-China, containing large numbers of Japanese troops plus those of our own people who had survived 3 ˝ years of captivity in their hands. No land communication existed through the jungle-clad hills in between, other than the much-bombed and rickety railway built by our POWs and native forced labour under brutal supervision, while access by sea meant a long and laborious voyage south round Singapore and then back up north – so it fell to us to fly in our occupying troops plus anything else they needed, and bring back the ex-POWs to Rangoon from where they would sail home to UK. Following some shuttle flights back to Akyab to complete the unit move, this was to be our primary task for the whole of September.
Not long after our arrival a Japanese delegation flew in from Bangkok to settle surrender terms for their forces in the Burma-Thailand-IndoChina area, its arrival conflicting with a wave of (our) inbound traffic that was instructed to orbit while the two Jap aircraft landed. Initially however they were nowhere in sight, and so the circuit soon became crowded with up to twenty Daks (including ours) going round in a circle. Eventually their two aircraft appeared, but after landing backtracked at a snail’s pace so taking an age to clear the runway. Overcome with impatience I grabbed my hand mike, snarling “get a move on you little yellow b------s” or words to that effect, to receive in return a barrage of “hear hears” and sundry less polite expletives, the tower plaintively replying (when they could get a word in) “sorry, we have no radio contact with our visitors”!
It was a short flight of about two & a quarter hours to Bangkok, with Saigon three hours or so further on. The outbound loads consisted mainly of stores needed by our own occupation troops, while return flights were either flown empty or with groups of our own recently liberated men. Expecting a load of zombie-like creatures, I remember being surprised (as were we all) by their relative fitness; for sure they were all on the slim side, but almost without exception were able to walk up to and board the aircraft without assistance – not only that, they bore themselves in a well-disciplined and confident manner and I was happy that my 21st birthday was passed ferrying a load of mainly Gordon Highlanders back to Rangoon – what better way to celebrate the occasion? No doubt there were some stretcher cases but I never saw them, and some weeks had elapsed since the Japanese surrender during which time great efforts would have been made to succour our ex-prisoners by means of air-dropped supplies and other means.
Part of the return flight took us close to the notorious railway where it crossed the mountain range separating Burma and Thailand, and we were surprised to be asked by our passengers if it was possible to fly over it so they could have a last look. To us it was a strange request – after all their suffering, surely it would be the last thing any sane person would want? – but we did our best to comply, on one occasion even seeing a train, but usually the hills were covered in heavy cloud and rainstorms. On reflection, I suppose it was a way of saying a last goodbye to their lost mates lying buried below.
A change came early next month with the first task being to lift an occupying force into the Moulmein area, a short flight across the Gulf of Martaban. The airfield at Moulmein was fairly basic and then still under Japanese control, but at this distance in time I cannot recall much about the facilities (or lack of them) except that the parking area was manned by their personnel and that such marshalling instructions we received hardly conformed to standard RAF procedures. The Japs were I think rather overwhelmed by having to deal with such a large number of aircraft, and I got the impression that the individual in front of us, vaguely waving his two flags in a totally incomprehensible manner, was trying to park us on a spot enclosed by some white lines on the ground; but his guidance, such as it was, was so incomprehensible that in the end I decided for myself exactly where to stop. Speaking to one of our advance ground party a few minutes later I asked him just what the lines represented: “look over there”, he said, pointing to a very lopsided Dakota a short distance away, “he has fallen into a booby trap like the one you have just avoided, you were supposed to keep outside of the white lines!”.
By this time the backlog of ex-POWs had been cleared from Bangkok, so other destinations such as Saigon began to figure. The political situation in Indo-China (AKA Vietnam) was tricky, with many of the locals objecting to re-imposition of European rule, while the fact of us being Brits rather than Frogs was irrelevant to them; as it was, some French forces were already beginning to trickle in so they had a point but, being their allies, we were bound to support them rather than any local rebels/freedom fighters or whatever. A similar situation on a larger scale existed in Indonesia, where we became unwillingly dragged into a struggle against Dutch rule.
Indeed Saigon became a welcome night stop, offering as it did facilities markedly superior to our accustomed tented accommodation and indifferent grub – but my first flight into its oddly-named Tan son Nhut airfield came close to possible disaster. For some forgotten reason our turn round at Bangkok was delayed, so departure into a gloomy sky was not until late afternoon. Approaching Saigon in the fading early evening light the ground below appeared to be largely flooded, but we were reassured by the airfield beacon's steady signal while the tower informed us all was well despite a fairly low cloud base and accompanying light rain. Having been previously warned that a radio station abutted the airfield I closely studied the (rather inadequate) map, but was relieved to see that it was shown as being reasonably well clear; so, given clearance to join the circuit pattern I manoeuvred to join downwind in the approved manner at a lower than usual height of around 5-600ft. I was therefore somewhat alarmed when a passenger (who happened to be my flight commander) appeared and said he had just seen a radio mast go past his window (!), however a vigorous scan by myself and the co-pilot revealed nothing untoward and so we continued on to land. As we decelerated after touchdown I was slightly startled by the sight of a Japanese sentry at the runway's edge presenting arms, later wondering if this was some form of tribute – for, as we disembarked, the radio station's obstruction lights burst into brilliant life, delineating the masts' great height in stark clarity. Indeed without doubt we must have flown through at least part of the forest of masts and cables, avoiding catastrophe by sheer chance.
On subsequent night stops we were accommodated in the town's Majestic Hotel (a considerable improvement on our accustomed tents), but on this first occasion we found ourselves in an adequate if rather decayed colonial bungalow. The next morning, going out to the veranda to fetch some water from one of the enormous Ali Baba-style urns that seemed to be its sole source, I was startled by a sudden crashing noise accompanied by a peculiar hissing sound emanating from a grinning Jap sentry presenting arms – fixed bayonet and all! It transpired that the Japs were now providing much of the security for us, at any rate until such time as there were enough of our own troops available and/or the situation stabilised; but for some time yet they rendered many other services, such as drivers MT, loading/unloading aircraft etc – the most surprising of which however, was providing aircraft and crews for internal air services within Indo-China.
It was indeed a strange feeling to be sharing the airfield with them, and the Jap crews were kept fairly busy until around the end of the year when they were stood down; I was told that they had exhausted stocks of their own fuel, Japanese aircraft apparently not being partial to our brand of avgas, but maybe the French had got themselves better organised by then. Mostly they used a twin engine low wing bird, capable of carrying probably a maximum of 12-15 pax, but I did also notice one or two of their DC3 copies parked about although never in flight.
In course of time Saigon became an eagerly anticipated night stop. The Majestic, although somewhat run down and dilapidated, was comfortable enough by the standards we had become used to and was well situated on a busy corner close to the town's main wharf on the Saigon river; seated on the hotel's terrace with drink in hand, the passing scene provided much variety – maybe an ocean-going ship or two, white-clad local girls on old fashioned bikes mixing it with French army dispatch riders on their Harleys, locals of various shapes and sizes, perhaps even an ancient locomotive performing some desultory shunting on the quayside, while the town centre itself retained a strong southern French character, its shady tree-lined streets lined with buildings of almost Mediterannean appearance. There were rumours of possible trouble with the Annamites, as the local Vietnamese opposition were then known, but it was mostly out in the country and the city remained secure at that time.
By the end of October the tasking emphasis on the Bangkok-Saigon run lessened somewhat, and we started to range out in other directions; which will be covered in the next instalment.
Here I must ask for help from those more knowledgeable than myself. I would like to add an attachment to a future post, but a little box at the bottom of the screen says 'attachments not allowed' – so how do I go about it?