The Men of the Shweli Sandbank

The official figure for the number of personnel that comprised 5 Column on Operation Longcloth is 297. During the first few weeks of the expedition the unit had suffered some minor casualties in skirmishes with the Japanese and some men had unfortunately been lost along the tracks and jungle paths of Northern Burma. Around the 24th March 1943, general dispersal was called by India Command and the men of 77th Brigade were ordered to make their way back to the safety of Allied held territory.
After taking one final supply drop for the entire Brigade at the village of Baw on 23/24th March, Wingate asked Major Bernard Fergusson, the commander of 5 Column, to act as rearguard for the Brigade and to create a diversion, whilst the majority of Chindit columns headed west towards the Irrawaddy River. It was whilst carrying out these orders that 5 Column's Longcloth journey truly began to unravel, resulting in the loss of over half its number in just 4 dramatic days.
On the 28th March, the column reached the Burmese village of Hintha. Finding no way to go around the village because of the thick-set jungle in the vicinity, Major Fergusson decided to investigate the village itself, with disastrous consequences. The battle of Hintha was 5 Column's major engagement with the enemy in 1943 and cost the lives of over 20 men, with many more being taken prisoner by the Japanese. To read more about the engagement at Hintha, please click on the following link:
Pte. John Henry Cobb
After a long engagement lasting several hours and with dusk approaching, Fergusson and his fighting platoons withdrew from Hintha. They re-joined the other section of the column, led by Flight Lieutenant Denny Sharp, which was waiting for them in a dry river bed a few miles to the north-east. As the newly reformed column marched away from the area, it was ambushed once again by the enemy approximately two miles north-east of Hintha village. A Japanese patrol cut the column in half, separating over 100 men from the main body. This group then fought tenaciously to extract itself from the confrontation with the enemy and moved away south-east. The majority of these men were fortunate to bump into 7 Column a few days later and Major Gilkes kindly took them under his wing.
Over the next few days, Bernard Fergusson and the rest of 5 Column (now approximately 120 men) continued their march north-eastwards toward the Irrawaddy River, hoping to re-join Wingate and the rest of the Brigade. Sadly, this reunion never took place. Wingate and the other Chindit columns had failed to cross the Irrawaddy on the 29th March after clashing with a large Japanese garrison stationed on the western banks of the river. From here, the majority of the Chindits had turned about and headed east to attempt a crossing of the potentially less formidable Shweli River.
Having reached the riverside village of Pyinlebin, close to the confluence of the Irrawaddy and Shweli Rivers, Bernard Fergusson realising he had missed his rendezvous with Brigade, decided that 5 Column would also turn back east and seek to cross the Shweli, somewhere between the villages of Pyindaunggale and Tokkin. It was here on the night of the 31st March and then subsequently during the following 24 hours, that another 40 or so men were lost to the column.
Seen below is a map showing 5 Column's progress to the Shweli River on the 31st March 1943.
After taking one final supply drop for the entire Brigade at the village of Baw on 23/24th March, Wingate asked Major Bernard Fergusson, the commander of 5 Column, to act as rearguard for the Brigade and to create a diversion, whilst the majority of Chindit columns headed west towards the Irrawaddy River. It was whilst carrying out these orders that 5 Column's Longcloth journey truly began to unravel, resulting in the loss of over half its number in just 4 dramatic days.
On the 28th March, the column reached the Burmese village of Hintha. Finding no way to go around the village because of the thick-set jungle in the vicinity, Major Fergusson decided to investigate the village itself, with disastrous consequences. The battle of Hintha was 5 Column's major engagement with the enemy in 1943 and cost the lives of over 20 men, with many more being taken prisoner by the Japanese. To read more about the engagement at Hintha, please click on the following link:
Pte. John Henry Cobb
After a long engagement lasting several hours and with dusk approaching, Fergusson and his fighting platoons withdrew from Hintha. They re-joined the other section of the column, led by Flight Lieutenant Denny Sharp, which was waiting for them in a dry river bed a few miles to the north-east. As the newly reformed column marched away from the area, it was ambushed once again by the enemy approximately two miles north-east of Hintha village. A Japanese patrol cut the column in half, separating over 100 men from the main body. This group then fought tenaciously to extract itself from the confrontation with the enemy and moved away south-east. The majority of these men were fortunate to bump into 7 Column a few days later and Major Gilkes kindly took them under his wing.
Over the next few days, Bernard Fergusson and the rest of 5 Column (now approximately 120 men) continued their march north-eastwards toward the Irrawaddy River, hoping to re-join Wingate and the rest of the Brigade. Sadly, this reunion never took place. Wingate and the other Chindit columns had failed to cross the Irrawaddy on the 29th March after clashing with a large Japanese garrison stationed on the western banks of the river. From here, the majority of the Chindits had turned about and headed east to attempt a crossing of the potentially less formidable Shweli River.
Having reached the riverside village of Pyinlebin, close to the confluence of the Irrawaddy and Shweli Rivers, Bernard Fergusson realising he had missed his rendezvous with Brigade, decided that 5 Column would also turn back east and seek to cross the Shweli, somewhere between the villages of Pyindaunggale and Tokkin. It was here on the night of the 31st March and then subsequently during the following 24 hours, that another 40 or so men were lost to the column.
Seen below is a map showing 5 Column's progress to the Shweli River on the 31st March 1943.
Major Fergusson's column searched for a suitable crossing point during the daylight hours of the 31st March, cautiously approaching the river on two occasions, only to find before them, a fast flowing torrent with no sign of boats or local boatmen to assist with their aim. Finally, at the third attempt some miles north of Tokkin village they succeeded in locating two Burmese villagers, each possessing a small wooden, but somewhat decrepit canoe.
From Bernard Fergusson's book, Beyond the Chindwin:
Denny Sharp had constituted himself the embarkation officer, and was directing the men how to sit in the bottom of the boat, with their packs on the floor in front of them. It was a nervous business, for the boat rolled with the slightest movement, and the freeboard was negligible. The boatmen handled them superbly, but the moment when the bow was allowed to pay out from the bank, by letting the stream flow inshore of it, was a moment of terror every time; for the boat heeled, water sometimes came over the gunwale, and unless the passengers sat still, the worst would happen.
I watched the process several times: the whispered instructions by Denny, the men settling into the boat, the hands anxiously gripping the gunwale, the rifle between the legs, the gingerly paying out of the bow, the swirl of the black water between the bow and the bank, the immediate heavy list, the sudden jerky roll as the men tried to compensate it, and then the disappearance of the boat downstream into the dark before the boatman's frenzied paddling took effect.
Each trip took ten minutes, each boat two men. I worked out the sum, and reckoned that we should all be across by 3 a.m. barring accidents. I took Peter Dorans, and went across on the next boat, enjoying it not at all. The worst of the stream was at the embarking point; the boatmen paddled furiously across the river, allowing the current to help him all it would by keeping the canoe at an angle; and soon we were in slack water. He had asked John in Burmese to explain to the troops that they should get out and wade once they were in shallow water; and we still appeared to be in mid-river when he anchored the boat with his paddle, and motioned us over the side.
However, it proved to be not more than two feet deep, and we soon found ourselves on dry sand, among fifteen or twenty wet and waiting soldiers. " Why the hell are you hanging about here ? " I asked. " Captain Roberts is trying to find a way off the sand," someone answered, also in a whisper. " This isn't the far bank at all, it's another sandbank." I went up the bank to look for Tommy, and found him with disturbing news. He had been nearly half a mile up the sandbank, to find a place where one could wade ashore, but there was none. It was desperately deep, and the current as bad here as where we had embarked. He was certain of treachery, and so was I.
These boatmen had marooned us on an island in the middle of the river, just as the captain, described in Maurois' Disraeli, had marooned a shipload of Jews whom he was deporting, in the middle of the English Channel, on a sandbank which was covered at high water. I went back to the northern end, where I had come ashore, and sent a man across with an urgent message for John Fraser to come and interpret. When John had learned what was wrong, he got hold of the next boatman returning, and asked him to show us the way across. He stripped and plunged off the northern end of the sandbank, followed by Tommy and another man.
We waited for ten minutes, and then the boatman came back. Somewhere out there in the blackness, presumably Tommy had got ashore. "All right," I said. "Let him go on with the ferrying. I'll go over." I took with me Denny Sharp, who had handed over his embarkation duties to Duncan Menzies and Peter Dorans.
Seen below is a gallery of images in relation to this story, including two pages of the 5 Column War diary describing the approach to the Shweli River and recounting the problems the unit incurred at that time. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
From Bernard Fergusson's book, Beyond the Chindwin:
Denny Sharp had constituted himself the embarkation officer, and was directing the men how to sit in the bottom of the boat, with their packs on the floor in front of them. It was a nervous business, for the boat rolled with the slightest movement, and the freeboard was negligible. The boatmen handled them superbly, but the moment when the bow was allowed to pay out from the bank, by letting the stream flow inshore of it, was a moment of terror every time; for the boat heeled, water sometimes came over the gunwale, and unless the passengers sat still, the worst would happen.
I watched the process several times: the whispered instructions by Denny, the men settling into the boat, the hands anxiously gripping the gunwale, the rifle between the legs, the gingerly paying out of the bow, the swirl of the black water between the bow and the bank, the immediate heavy list, the sudden jerky roll as the men tried to compensate it, and then the disappearance of the boat downstream into the dark before the boatman's frenzied paddling took effect.
Each trip took ten minutes, each boat two men. I worked out the sum, and reckoned that we should all be across by 3 a.m. barring accidents. I took Peter Dorans, and went across on the next boat, enjoying it not at all. The worst of the stream was at the embarking point; the boatmen paddled furiously across the river, allowing the current to help him all it would by keeping the canoe at an angle; and soon we were in slack water. He had asked John in Burmese to explain to the troops that they should get out and wade once they were in shallow water; and we still appeared to be in mid-river when he anchored the boat with his paddle, and motioned us over the side.
However, it proved to be not more than two feet deep, and we soon found ourselves on dry sand, among fifteen or twenty wet and waiting soldiers. " Why the hell are you hanging about here ? " I asked. " Captain Roberts is trying to find a way off the sand," someone answered, also in a whisper. " This isn't the far bank at all, it's another sandbank." I went up the bank to look for Tommy, and found him with disturbing news. He had been nearly half a mile up the sandbank, to find a place where one could wade ashore, but there was none. It was desperately deep, and the current as bad here as where we had embarked. He was certain of treachery, and so was I.
These boatmen had marooned us on an island in the middle of the river, just as the captain, described in Maurois' Disraeli, had marooned a shipload of Jews whom he was deporting, in the middle of the English Channel, on a sandbank which was covered at high water. I went back to the northern end, where I had come ashore, and sent a man across with an urgent message for John Fraser to come and interpret. When John had learned what was wrong, he got hold of the next boatman returning, and asked him to show us the way across. He stripped and plunged off the northern end of the sandbank, followed by Tommy and another man.
We waited for ten minutes, and then the boatman came back. Somewhere out there in the blackness, presumably Tommy had got ashore. "All right," I said. "Let him go on with the ferrying. I'll go over." I took with me Denny Sharp, who had handed over his embarkation duties to Duncan Menzies and Peter Dorans.
Seen below is a gallery of images in relation to this story, including two pages of the 5 Column War diary describing the approach to the Shweli River and recounting the problems the unit incurred at that time. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
Bernard Fergusson continues:
There is no word for it but "nightmare." The roaring of the waters, the blackness of the night, the occasional sucking of a quicksand were bad enough, but the current was devilish. At its deepest, I suppose it was about four feet six or a little more: I am over six foot one, and it was more than breast high on me. The current must have been four to five knots. It sought to scoop the feet from under you and at the same time thrust powerfully at your chest. The only method of progress was to lean against the current, to attempt to keep an intermittent footing, to maintain your angle against the stream, and kick off the ground whenever your feet touched it. If once you lost your vertical position, you knew as a black certainty that you would disappear down the stream for ever.
It was not until almost within reach of the bank that the river shallowed to a couple of feet; and even then it was all one could do to make one's way upstream against it. Although the crossing cannot have been more than seventy or eighty yards, one finished at least forty yards farther downstream than the point of the sandbank. Tommy's voice hailed me from the bank as I arrived, breathless and exhausted, bidding me work my way upstream. Five yards brought one to a place where one could clamber up the bank with the help of a branch of a tree which hung low over the river.
The bank itself was about ten feet high. I scrambled up, and found myself on the road. When I had got my breath back, I began making calculations. The crossing was feasible, but some of the smaller men would find it difficult. The boats would not finish ferrying on to the sandbank until 3 a.m. and it would be light before six. It might be possible to divert the boats after that hour to bringing over the smaller men, but the vast majority must wade it. I told Denny Sharp that, as soon as he felt strong enough to do so, he must go back over, and order everybody to start, bar the very small men, whom we would bring over in the boats later.
He went; and a few minutes later a long line of men began to arrive. We directed them upstream, as Tommy had done for me, and hauled the weaker ones up the bank at the one place where it was possible. As they arrived, we sorted them out into platoons, and posted them on the road two or three hundred yards either side of the crossing place, in case of interruption by enemy patrols. Several times one heard cries for help, as some unlucky chap lost his footing and went off helplessly down-stream; I fear that it happened to four or five in all. In the inky blackness there was nothing one could do to help. Some parties tried to hold hands all the way over, but it was impossible to maintain one's grip.
Once during the night, the solitary charger arrived under the bank; how it had got there heaven knows, and I never found out; we tried desperately to get it up the bank, but failed; and at last with a sort of whimper it gave up the struggle, lay down in the water and in an instant had disappeared downstream. About half the column was across when, a mile or so to the northward, we saw the headlights of three lorries approaching. It seemed as though they were coming along the river-bank. I sent a runner to Tommy, but Tommy had already seen them; so had the people on the sandbank, and the crossing ceased.
The stops on the road were ready to engage them, and some men had the pins out of their grenades, when we saw the lorries halt, and their lights illumine the shrubs by the roadside, while they backed and went forward again in the act of turning round. Then to our boundless relief we saw them going off again the way they had come. Somebody came across about three in the morning with the catastrophic news that the boats had gone; the accident we had been dreading all night had happened, and a nervous man had capsized the boat, which had gone off downstream.
He himself had managed to reach the sandbank, but of the boat and boatman there was no sign. The other boatman had to be forcibly restrained from going off to look for him, of which the effect was to reduce the number of passengers each trip, since he had to be escorted on the return journey. When at last he had delivered the ultimate man on to the sandbank, he gave us the slip; and now at four in the morning we were left without boats.
Shown in the gallery below are some recent photographs of the Shweli, taken when the river was in a slightly more serene demeanour than it was on the 1st April 1943. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
There is no word for it but "nightmare." The roaring of the waters, the blackness of the night, the occasional sucking of a quicksand were bad enough, but the current was devilish. At its deepest, I suppose it was about four feet six or a little more: I am over six foot one, and it was more than breast high on me. The current must have been four to five knots. It sought to scoop the feet from under you and at the same time thrust powerfully at your chest. The only method of progress was to lean against the current, to attempt to keep an intermittent footing, to maintain your angle against the stream, and kick off the ground whenever your feet touched it. If once you lost your vertical position, you knew as a black certainty that you would disappear down the stream for ever.
It was not until almost within reach of the bank that the river shallowed to a couple of feet; and even then it was all one could do to make one's way upstream against it. Although the crossing cannot have been more than seventy or eighty yards, one finished at least forty yards farther downstream than the point of the sandbank. Tommy's voice hailed me from the bank as I arrived, breathless and exhausted, bidding me work my way upstream. Five yards brought one to a place where one could clamber up the bank with the help of a branch of a tree which hung low over the river.
The bank itself was about ten feet high. I scrambled up, and found myself on the road. When I had got my breath back, I began making calculations. The crossing was feasible, but some of the smaller men would find it difficult. The boats would not finish ferrying on to the sandbank until 3 a.m. and it would be light before six. It might be possible to divert the boats after that hour to bringing over the smaller men, but the vast majority must wade it. I told Denny Sharp that, as soon as he felt strong enough to do so, he must go back over, and order everybody to start, bar the very small men, whom we would bring over in the boats later.
He went; and a few minutes later a long line of men began to arrive. We directed them upstream, as Tommy had done for me, and hauled the weaker ones up the bank at the one place where it was possible. As they arrived, we sorted them out into platoons, and posted them on the road two or three hundred yards either side of the crossing place, in case of interruption by enemy patrols. Several times one heard cries for help, as some unlucky chap lost his footing and went off helplessly down-stream; I fear that it happened to four or five in all. In the inky blackness there was nothing one could do to help. Some parties tried to hold hands all the way over, but it was impossible to maintain one's grip.
Once during the night, the solitary charger arrived under the bank; how it had got there heaven knows, and I never found out; we tried desperately to get it up the bank, but failed; and at last with a sort of whimper it gave up the struggle, lay down in the water and in an instant had disappeared downstream. About half the column was across when, a mile or so to the northward, we saw the headlights of three lorries approaching. It seemed as though they were coming along the river-bank. I sent a runner to Tommy, but Tommy had already seen them; so had the people on the sandbank, and the crossing ceased.
The stops on the road were ready to engage them, and some men had the pins out of their grenades, when we saw the lorries halt, and their lights illumine the shrubs by the roadside, while they backed and went forward again in the act of turning round. Then to our boundless relief we saw them going off again the way they had come. Somebody came across about three in the morning with the catastrophic news that the boats had gone; the accident we had been dreading all night had happened, and a nervous man had capsized the boat, which had gone off downstream.
He himself had managed to reach the sandbank, but of the boat and boatman there was no sign. The other boatman had to be forcibly restrained from going off to look for him, of which the effect was to reduce the number of passengers each trip, since he had to be escorted on the return journey. When at last he had delivered the ultimate man on to the sandbank, he gave us the slip; and now at four in the morning we were left without boats.
Shown in the gallery below are some recent photographs of the Shweli, taken when the river was in a slightly more serene demeanour than it was on the 1st April 1943. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
Major Fergusson concludes the story of the 1st April:
Big men and little men alike must cross to the bank, or stay where they were. Some willingly, if not happily, came across at once, and joined us; but some turned back and some would not start at all. Several officers went back again to persuade them to try, but what with hunger and cold and several hours of waiting on that grim sand-bank, and hearing the cries of the occasional lost man, their nerve had been undermined. Everybody was weak from lack of food, and morale depends more on food than on anything else.
I sent across a message to say that I could give them only fifteen minutes more, and then I was setting out due east. John Fraser made a last attempt to rally them, and got them all started, but unfortunately he himself lost his footing, and was swept away downstream, choking and helpless. Luckily for him, the moon was now up, and it was possible to see him; and he was rescued, though not without much difficulty. But for the others, this was the last straw, and they turned back to the sandbank. I had to make the decision.
Another hour and a quarter remained till dawn, when the Japanese patrols would renew their vigilance. I could stay and wait till dawn, take a chance on being interrupted, and search up and downstream, for more boats. There was no bamboo, or other material suitable for the quick manufacture of a raft. There was no rope. The likelihood of being able to do anything more at dawn than I could do now was remote. If I stayed, I would fling away the chances of those who had put their trust in Providence and come out safely, for the sake of those who had not had the faith to do so. The wounded were all across, and some of the Gurkhas, the smallest men of all. The salvation of those who remained on the sandbank was in their own hands.
I made the decision to come away. I have it on my conscience for as long as I live; but I stand by that decision and believe it to have been the correct one. Those who may think otherwise may well be right. Some of my officers volunteered to stay, but I refused them permission to do so. We marched for an hour, and then, in a bamboo thicket high on the hill, we risked a fire. We were paralysed with cold, and had nothing dry but our weapons, ammunition and such other articles as we had been able to hold above our heads.
We brewed some tea, and had an hour's sleep; during which time two men from the sandbank joined us (Ptes. Ryan and Pierce). They had screwed up their courage, and done it, but they had failed to induce any one else to share their venture. They had had some difficulty in finding our track, but had eventually done so. Before pushing on, we counted heads. Our strength was reduced to nine officers and sixty-five men; in other words, forty-six men had either been drowned or left on the sandbank. Of these the latter were certainly the vast majority. It is a matter of fact that those who had crossed and were with the column included all the best men, and the men whose behaviour throughout the expedition had been the most praise-worthy.
It does not absolve me from my responsibility for the others to say so, but it was and is a comfort to me that among those whom I thus abandoned were few to whom our debt, and the debt of their nation, was outstanding. There were two or three whom I particularly regretted, and of these one was almost certainly drowned, and two were especially small in stature. There were two more who, had they got out, would have had to face charges at a court-martial. Nevertheless, the crossing of the Shweli River will haunt me all my life; and to my mind the decision which fell to me there was as cruel as any which could fall on the shoulders of a junior commander.
There are two witness statements (shown in the gallery below) given by men after the operation, that describe the situation at the Shweli on the 1st April 1943 and identify the vast majority of those left behind on the sandbank. Firstly, from Lieutenant William Edge, the column Cipher Officer:
In the small hours of the 1st April 1943, a dispersal group commanded by Major B. Fergusson crossed the Shweli River from west to east at a point near Tokkin village. Some men were ferried half-way across by boat to a sandbank, but failed to complete the crossing, which involved wading breast-high some fifty yards in a very fast current. These men did not rejoin the Column and have not been seen since.
Secondly from Pte. W. Ryan, one of the two men who belatedly decided to make the crossing on April 1st:
I was with No. 5 Column at the crossing of the River Shweli on the 1st April 1943. With Pte. Pierce, I was one of the last to leave the sandbank. On reaching the east bank we lost our way and did not finally leave the river bank until daybreak. Before leaving I saw a group of approximately 40 to 50 British Other Ranks and Gurkhas still on the sandbank. They did not seem to be attempting to cross. They had arms and ammunition.
I had not gone more than thirty yards inland, when I heard a volley of shots close at hand, but I could not tell who was firing. There were Japs in the village just two miles away. We re-joined the Column which was approximately two miles away and were the last men to do so.
Big men and little men alike must cross to the bank, or stay where they were. Some willingly, if not happily, came across at once, and joined us; but some turned back and some would not start at all. Several officers went back again to persuade them to try, but what with hunger and cold and several hours of waiting on that grim sand-bank, and hearing the cries of the occasional lost man, their nerve had been undermined. Everybody was weak from lack of food, and morale depends more on food than on anything else.
I sent across a message to say that I could give them only fifteen minutes more, and then I was setting out due east. John Fraser made a last attempt to rally them, and got them all started, but unfortunately he himself lost his footing, and was swept away downstream, choking and helpless. Luckily for him, the moon was now up, and it was possible to see him; and he was rescued, though not without much difficulty. But for the others, this was the last straw, and they turned back to the sandbank. I had to make the decision.
Another hour and a quarter remained till dawn, when the Japanese patrols would renew their vigilance. I could stay and wait till dawn, take a chance on being interrupted, and search up and downstream, for more boats. There was no bamboo, or other material suitable for the quick manufacture of a raft. There was no rope. The likelihood of being able to do anything more at dawn than I could do now was remote. If I stayed, I would fling away the chances of those who had put their trust in Providence and come out safely, for the sake of those who had not had the faith to do so. The wounded were all across, and some of the Gurkhas, the smallest men of all. The salvation of those who remained on the sandbank was in their own hands.
I made the decision to come away. I have it on my conscience for as long as I live; but I stand by that decision and believe it to have been the correct one. Those who may think otherwise may well be right. Some of my officers volunteered to stay, but I refused them permission to do so. We marched for an hour, and then, in a bamboo thicket high on the hill, we risked a fire. We were paralysed with cold, and had nothing dry but our weapons, ammunition and such other articles as we had been able to hold above our heads.
We brewed some tea, and had an hour's sleep; during which time two men from the sandbank joined us (Ptes. Ryan and Pierce). They had screwed up their courage, and done it, but they had failed to induce any one else to share their venture. They had had some difficulty in finding our track, but had eventually done so. Before pushing on, we counted heads. Our strength was reduced to nine officers and sixty-five men; in other words, forty-six men had either been drowned or left on the sandbank. Of these the latter were certainly the vast majority. It is a matter of fact that those who had crossed and were with the column included all the best men, and the men whose behaviour throughout the expedition had been the most praise-worthy.
It does not absolve me from my responsibility for the others to say so, but it was and is a comfort to me that among those whom I thus abandoned were few to whom our debt, and the debt of their nation, was outstanding. There were two or three whom I particularly regretted, and of these one was almost certainly drowned, and two were especially small in stature. There were two more who, had they got out, would have had to face charges at a court-martial. Nevertheless, the crossing of the Shweli River will haunt me all my life; and to my mind the decision which fell to me there was as cruel as any which could fall on the shoulders of a junior commander.
There are two witness statements (shown in the gallery below) given by men after the operation, that describe the situation at the Shweli on the 1st April 1943 and identify the vast majority of those left behind on the sandbank. Firstly, from Lieutenant William Edge, the column Cipher Officer:
In the small hours of the 1st April 1943, a dispersal group commanded by Major B. Fergusson crossed the Shweli River from west to east at a point near Tokkin village. Some men were ferried half-way across by boat to a sandbank, but failed to complete the crossing, which involved wading breast-high some fifty yards in a very fast current. These men did not rejoin the Column and have not been seen since.
Secondly from Pte. W. Ryan, one of the two men who belatedly decided to make the crossing on April 1st:
I was with No. 5 Column at the crossing of the River Shweli on the 1st April 1943. With Pte. Pierce, I was one of the last to leave the sandbank. On reaching the east bank we lost our way and did not finally leave the river bank until daybreak. Before leaving I saw a group of approximately 40 to 50 British Other Ranks and Gurkhas still on the sandbank. They did not seem to be attempting to cross. They had arms and ammunition.
I had not gone more than thirty yards inland, when I heard a volley of shots close at hand, but I could not tell who was firing. There were Japs in the village just two miles away. We re-joined the Column which was approximately two miles away and were the last men to do so.
The thirty British Other Ranks, identified in the witness statements given by Lt. Edge and Pte. Ryan, constitute the vast majority of those men who chose to remain on the sandbank during the early hours of April 1st. It must be presumed that the other men involved either drowned attempting to ford the river, or were killed by the Japanese as they closed in on the unfortunate stragglers later that morning. Some of latter were almost certainly soldiers from the Gurkha and Burma Rifle sections of 5 Column, but as is often the case, casualties from these groups are almost impossible to confirm.
Two British soldiers confirmed as being killed on the sandbank, close to the village of Tokkin are: Pte. Edward James Boyle from Liverpool and Pte. Samuel Robinson from Erdington in Birmingham. There now follows a list of the other men mentioned in the witness statements and what I know of their fate after 1st April 1943:
Pte. 4204981 Henry James Ackerman, formerly of the Royal Welch Fusiliers. Henry, one of 5 Column's bullock drivers earlier in the expedition, was captured on the 1st April and subsequently died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 2nd August 1943. He was originally buried at the English Cantonment Cemetery and was given the POW number 532 during his time as prisoner of war. To read more about his story, please click on the following link: Henry James Ackerman
Pte. 3779341 William Henry Anders was a messenger dog handler in 5 Column. He also perished inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 14th March 1944. He held the POW number 548 and was buried at the Cantonment Cemetery in grave number 166.
From the pages of the Liverpool Echo dated Friday 5th November 1943 and under the headline, Reported Missing:
Private W.H. Anders aged 31, son of Mr. and Mrs. Anders of 62 Seacombe Street, Liverpool 15, has been posted as missing in the Indian theatre of war since April 1st last. He has served in India for the last eighteen months.
Pte. 5116761 Percy Frederick Stanley Biggs, from March in Cambridgeshire, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 9th December 1943. He was issued the POW number 558 and was buried in the first instance at the Cantonment Cemetery. To read more about his story, please click on the following link and scroll down alphabetically: Percy Biggs
Pte. 5116528 Charles Broadhurst formerly of the Royal Warwickshire Regiment. Charles was captured at the Shweli on the 1st April 1943. He was given the POW number 342 by his captors in Rangoon Jail, but lived to tell the tale after being liberated on the 29th April 1945 at a place called Waw near the Burmese town of Pegu. To read more about the group of soldiers liberated at Waw in 1945, please click on the following link: Chindit POW's
Lance Corporal 3780031 Charles Brookes was the 5 Column bugler on Operation Longcloth. Originally from Manchester, he was captured on the 2nd April and spent just over two years inside Rangoon Jail where his POW number was 339. He too was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the village of Waw. Lt. Philip Stibbe a platoon commander with 5 Column and fellow prisoner inside the jail, remembered Brookes in his book, Return via Rangoon:
A figure that pops up in almost all my memories of 5 Column is the imperturbable stocky form of Brookes, the bugler. Always with Column Head Quarters, it was he who transmitted the Major’s orders to the rest of the column, whether by bugle or by whistle. At a signal from him we loaded the mules; at another signal we moved off; at another we halted. He sometimes summoned the officers to conference with the Major, and at other times he blew the call which told us to disperse into the jungle and meet again at a pre-arranged rendezvous. We all knew what each of his signals meant, and we all took it for granted that he would be at hand to blow his bugle with impeccable clarity.
Column commander, Major Bernard Fergusson relied heavily on Lance Corporal Brookes during the battle at Hintha on the 28th March, including calling upon the trustworthy bugler to call for the column to withdraw from the village. Fergusson recalled:
As we moved away from Hintha I gave the order for everyone to congregate in a nearby paddy field. I asked Duncan Menzies if he was quite sure everybody knew the next rendezvous point. "Absolutely," he answered and with that assurance I told Brookes the bugler to blow on his instrument, as he always called it, the call known as second dispersal, on hearing which every group in the column was trained to break off from the main body and make its way independently to the following rendezvous.
Back home in Manchester, Lance Corporal Brookes' family, still hoping against hope that their soldier was still alive, placed these birthday messages in the Manchester Evening News, dated June 10th 1944:
Birthday greetings to a dear son and brother, Charlie Brookes (King's Regiment) on his 34th birthday (Sunday 11th). Missing on Wingate's Expedition in Burma on April 1st 1943. We are always thinking of you. From Mam, Dad, Sister and Brother C.M.F. (Central Mediterranean Force). 38 Kensington Road, Chorlton-cum-Hardy, Manchester 21.
Loving birthday greetings to my dear brother, Charlie on his 34th birthday. Still missing in Burma. Hoping and praying for your safe return. From your sister Mag and Tom. Hurry home, Charlie Chuck Chuck, from little niece, Jean.
It is wonderful to think that the family's prayers were answered and that Charles survived his ordeal as a prisoner of war and returned home to those who loved him so much.
Pte. 5116525 Walter Brown from Birmingham, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 23rd April 1944. Walter, issued with the POW number 541, perished whilst suffering from the disease of beri beri and was buried in grave 175 at the English Cantonment Cemetery.
Pte. 3780056 Cyril Burke from Liverpool was wounded in action whilst attempting to cross the Shweli River on the 1st April 1943. According to witness statements given after the liberation of some of his comrades from Rangoon Jail, Cyril died from his wounds almost immediately and was buried in the Burmese village where the captured Chindits were being held.
Two British soldiers confirmed as being killed on the sandbank, close to the village of Tokkin are: Pte. Edward James Boyle from Liverpool and Pte. Samuel Robinson from Erdington in Birmingham. There now follows a list of the other men mentioned in the witness statements and what I know of their fate after 1st April 1943:
Pte. 4204981 Henry James Ackerman, formerly of the Royal Welch Fusiliers. Henry, one of 5 Column's bullock drivers earlier in the expedition, was captured on the 1st April and subsequently died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 2nd August 1943. He was originally buried at the English Cantonment Cemetery and was given the POW number 532 during his time as prisoner of war. To read more about his story, please click on the following link: Henry James Ackerman
Pte. 3779341 William Henry Anders was a messenger dog handler in 5 Column. He also perished inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 14th March 1944. He held the POW number 548 and was buried at the Cantonment Cemetery in grave number 166.
From the pages of the Liverpool Echo dated Friday 5th November 1943 and under the headline, Reported Missing:
Private W.H. Anders aged 31, son of Mr. and Mrs. Anders of 62 Seacombe Street, Liverpool 15, has been posted as missing in the Indian theatre of war since April 1st last. He has served in India for the last eighteen months.
Pte. 5116761 Percy Frederick Stanley Biggs, from March in Cambridgeshire, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 9th December 1943. He was issued the POW number 558 and was buried in the first instance at the Cantonment Cemetery. To read more about his story, please click on the following link and scroll down alphabetically: Percy Biggs
Pte. 5116528 Charles Broadhurst formerly of the Royal Warwickshire Regiment. Charles was captured at the Shweli on the 1st April 1943. He was given the POW number 342 by his captors in Rangoon Jail, but lived to tell the tale after being liberated on the 29th April 1945 at a place called Waw near the Burmese town of Pegu. To read more about the group of soldiers liberated at Waw in 1945, please click on the following link: Chindit POW's
Lance Corporal 3780031 Charles Brookes was the 5 Column bugler on Operation Longcloth. Originally from Manchester, he was captured on the 2nd April and spent just over two years inside Rangoon Jail where his POW number was 339. He too was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the village of Waw. Lt. Philip Stibbe a platoon commander with 5 Column and fellow prisoner inside the jail, remembered Brookes in his book, Return via Rangoon:
A figure that pops up in almost all my memories of 5 Column is the imperturbable stocky form of Brookes, the bugler. Always with Column Head Quarters, it was he who transmitted the Major’s orders to the rest of the column, whether by bugle or by whistle. At a signal from him we loaded the mules; at another signal we moved off; at another we halted. He sometimes summoned the officers to conference with the Major, and at other times he blew the call which told us to disperse into the jungle and meet again at a pre-arranged rendezvous. We all knew what each of his signals meant, and we all took it for granted that he would be at hand to blow his bugle with impeccable clarity.
Column commander, Major Bernard Fergusson relied heavily on Lance Corporal Brookes during the battle at Hintha on the 28th March, including calling upon the trustworthy bugler to call for the column to withdraw from the village. Fergusson recalled:
As we moved away from Hintha I gave the order for everyone to congregate in a nearby paddy field. I asked Duncan Menzies if he was quite sure everybody knew the next rendezvous point. "Absolutely," he answered and with that assurance I told Brookes the bugler to blow on his instrument, as he always called it, the call known as second dispersal, on hearing which every group in the column was trained to break off from the main body and make its way independently to the following rendezvous.
Back home in Manchester, Lance Corporal Brookes' family, still hoping against hope that their soldier was still alive, placed these birthday messages in the Manchester Evening News, dated June 10th 1944:
Birthday greetings to a dear son and brother, Charlie Brookes (King's Regiment) on his 34th birthday (Sunday 11th). Missing on Wingate's Expedition in Burma on April 1st 1943. We are always thinking of you. From Mam, Dad, Sister and Brother C.M.F. (Central Mediterranean Force). 38 Kensington Road, Chorlton-cum-Hardy, Manchester 21.
Loving birthday greetings to my dear brother, Charlie on his 34th birthday. Still missing in Burma. Hoping and praying for your safe return. From your sister Mag and Tom. Hurry home, Charlie Chuck Chuck, from little niece, Jean.
It is wonderful to think that the family's prayers were answered and that Charles survived his ordeal as a prisoner of war and returned home to those who loved him so much.
Pte. 5116525 Walter Brown from Birmingham, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 23rd April 1944. Walter, issued with the POW number 541, perished whilst suffering from the disease of beri beri and was buried in grave 175 at the English Cantonment Cemetery.
Pte. 3780056 Cyril Burke from Liverpool was wounded in action whilst attempting to cross the Shweli River on the 1st April 1943. According to witness statements given after the liberation of some of his comrades from Rangoon Jail, Cyril died from his wounds almost immediately and was buried in the Burmese village where the captured Chindits were being held.

Pte. 3779096 Patrick Campbell from Huyton in Lancashire, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 7th October 1943, his POW number was 507. From the pages of the Liverpool Echo, Friday 29th October 1943 and under the headline: The following men are reported missing in various theatres of war.
Private Patrick Campbell, son of Mr. John Campbell, 90 Barketh Road, Huyton in Liverpool, is missing in the Indian theatre of war since April last. He is an old boy of St. Sylvester's Roman Catholic School, Liverpool. He has a brother in the same battalion in India. Formerly, his parents lived in Tatlock Street, Liverpool.
Sadly, the same newspaper reported confirmation of Patrick's death whilst a prisoner of war in their issue printed on the 16th June 1945:
Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, of 90 Barkbeth Road in Huyton, have been informed that their youngest son, Private Patrick Campbell, died while in Japanese hands in Burma on 7th October 1943. He would have been twenty-five last May. He was an old boy of St. Sylvester's Roman Catholic School and had been in the Army for five years.
Update 23/02/2020.
I was extremely pleased to receive the following email contact from Maria Gretton, the great niece of Patrick Campbell:
Dear Steve, I have been looking through your website and have found some information on my great uncle Patrick Campbell. He was with the 13th Battalion of the King's Liverpool Regiment and was captured by the Japanese and held at Rangoon City Jail. From the information on the website it looks like he was with No. 5 Column and captured at the Shweli sandbank on the 1st April 1943. I am not sure of his cause of death and am very interested to find this out along with any other details you might have.
I don't really know much about Patrick's life before the war and all his siblings have now passed away. I think he was the next to youngest in his family. His father John Joseph Campbell fought in the Great War and he was also in the Liverpool King's. I was told that he was only 15 years old when he joined up and rode a horse named Hercules and was given the horse when he came out of the Army. He also served for a time in the Merchant Navy and passed away in the 1970's. I think Patrick inherited his father's determination and bravery and did what he had to do in Burma. I have a photograph of Patrick from his early days in WW2 and one of his father from his days with the King's in WW1. Thanks for all your help.
I was pleased to receive the above mentioned photographs from Maria and these can be seen in the gallery below, along with a more recent image of Patrick's grave at Rangoon War Cemetery and some other more general photographs of the cemetery. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
Private Patrick Campbell, son of Mr. John Campbell, 90 Barketh Road, Huyton in Liverpool, is missing in the Indian theatre of war since April last. He is an old boy of St. Sylvester's Roman Catholic School, Liverpool. He has a brother in the same battalion in India. Formerly, his parents lived in Tatlock Street, Liverpool.
Sadly, the same newspaper reported confirmation of Patrick's death whilst a prisoner of war in their issue printed on the 16th June 1945:
Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, of 90 Barkbeth Road in Huyton, have been informed that their youngest son, Private Patrick Campbell, died while in Japanese hands in Burma on 7th October 1943. He would have been twenty-five last May. He was an old boy of St. Sylvester's Roman Catholic School and had been in the Army for five years.
Update 23/02/2020.
I was extremely pleased to receive the following email contact from Maria Gretton, the great niece of Patrick Campbell:
Dear Steve, I have been looking through your website and have found some information on my great uncle Patrick Campbell. He was with the 13th Battalion of the King's Liverpool Regiment and was captured by the Japanese and held at Rangoon City Jail. From the information on the website it looks like he was with No. 5 Column and captured at the Shweli sandbank on the 1st April 1943. I am not sure of his cause of death and am very interested to find this out along with any other details you might have.
I don't really know much about Patrick's life before the war and all his siblings have now passed away. I think he was the next to youngest in his family. His father John Joseph Campbell fought in the Great War and he was also in the Liverpool King's. I was told that he was only 15 years old when he joined up and rode a horse named Hercules and was given the horse when he came out of the Army. He also served for a time in the Merchant Navy and passed away in the 1970's. I think Patrick inherited his father's determination and bravery and did what he had to do in Burma. I have a photograph of Patrick from his early days in WW2 and one of his father from his days with the King's in WW1. Thanks for all your help.
I was pleased to receive the above mentioned photographs from Maria and these can be seen in the gallery below, along with a more recent image of Patrick's grave at Rangoon War Cemetery and some other more general photographs of the cemetery. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
Pte. 4184870 John Walter Edwards formerly of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, was captured on the 2nd April 1943. He was issued with the POW number 353 inside Rangoon Jail, but was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the Burmese village of Waw.
Pte. 5124985 Albert Leslie Gabb, formerly of the Royal Warwickshire Regiment, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 2nd December 1943. He had been issued with the POW number 519 and was buried in grave number 98 at the English Cantonment Cemetery.
Pte. 5124985 Albert Leslie Gabb, formerly of the Royal Warwickshire Regiment, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 2nd December 1943. He had been issued with the POW number 519 and was buried in grave number 98 at the English Cantonment Cemetery.

Pte. 3779290 John Evans Garner from Dingle in Liverpool, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 19th May 1944 whilst suffering from the effects of beri beri. John was issued with the POW number 345 and was originally buried in grave number 180 at the English Cantonment Cemetery. From the pages of the Liverpool Echo dated 16th June 1945 and under the headline: News of our Men in the Forces:
Private John Evans Garner, son of Mrs. Garner, of 32a Essex Street, Liverpool, died last May whilst a prisoner in Japanese hands. Pte. Garner, who was taken prisoner in May 1943, was educated at Beaufort Street School and had been serving abroad for three years. Mrs. Garner would welcome any information.
Pte. 4194699 Serbert Gittins, formerly of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 9th March 1944. He held the POW number 538 and was originally buried at the English Cantonment Cemetery, before all POW burials at this cemetery were moved over to the newly constructed Rangoon War Cemetery in June 1946.
Pte. 3772359 Harold Peter Glynn from Liverpool, was captured on the 2nd April at the Shweli sandbank. He was issued with the POW number 343, but was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the village of Waw. From the pages of the Liverpool Echo, Friday 29th October 1943 and under the headline: The following men are reported missing in various theatres of war.
Private Harold Glynn, son of Mr. R.G. Glynn, 39 Mill Lane, Old Swan, is posted missing in the Indian theatre of war. He is an old boy of All Saint's School, Anfield and has two brothers in the Forces.
Pte. 3772564 John Joseph Hampson from Liverpool, died in Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on 12th April 1944. John, who was issued with the POW number 501, was suffering from the disease beri beri and was buried in grave 173 at the English Cantonment Cemetery.
Pte. 5116575 Albert Henry Hartshorn was from Shrewsbury in Shropshire. He was captured on the 1st April at the Shweli and spent just over two years as a prisoner of war inside Rangoon Jail. He was issued with the POW number 357, but was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the village of Waw.
Shown below are some of the memorial grave plaques, belonging to men from 5 Column who perished as prisoners of war inside Rangoon Central Jail after their capture on the Shweli sandbank. These memorials can be found at Rangoon War Cemetery, the last resting place for most of the POW casualties from the first Chindit expedition in 1943. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
Private John Evans Garner, son of Mrs. Garner, of 32a Essex Street, Liverpool, died last May whilst a prisoner in Japanese hands. Pte. Garner, who was taken prisoner in May 1943, was educated at Beaufort Street School and had been serving abroad for three years. Mrs. Garner would welcome any information.
Pte. 4194699 Serbert Gittins, formerly of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 9th March 1944. He held the POW number 538 and was originally buried at the English Cantonment Cemetery, before all POW burials at this cemetery were moved over to the newly constructed Rangoon War Cemetery in June 1946.
Pte. 3772359 Harold Peter Glynn from Liverpool, was captured on the 2nd April at the Shweli sandbank. He was issued with the POW number 343, but was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the village of Waw. From the pages of the Liverpool Echo, Friday 29th October 1943 and under the headline: The following men are reported missing in various theatres of war.
Private Harold Glynn, son of Mr. R.G. Glynn, 39 Mill Lane, Old Swan, is posted missing in the Indian theatre of war. He is an old boy of All Saint's School, Anfield and has two brothers in the Forces.
Pte. 3772564 John Joseph Hampson from Liverpool, died in Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on 12th April 1944. John, who was issued with the POW number 501, was suffering from the disease beri beri and was buried in grave 173 at the English Cantonment Cemetery.
Pte. 5116575 Albert Henry Hartshorn was from Shrewsbury in Shropshire. He was captured on the 1st April at the Shweli and spent just over two years as a prisoner of war inside Rangoon Jail. He was issued with the POW number 357, but was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the village of Waw.
Shown below are some of the memorial grave plaques, belonging to men from 5 Column who perished as prisoners of war inside Rangoon Central Jail after their capture on the Shweli sandbank. These memorials can be found at Rangoon War Cemetery, the last resting place for most of the POW casualties from the first Chindit expedition in 1943. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
Pte. 3779386 Victor Joseph Haynes from Blackpool, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 25th October 1943. He was issued with the POW number 559 and was buried in grave 114 at the English Cantonment Cemetery.
Lance Corporal 3779555 Robert Patterson Irvine Mitchell from Ellesmere Port, died on the 25th April 1944 suffering from the effects of beri beri. He was given the POW number 332 whilst inside Rangoon Jail and was buried in grave 176 at the English Cantonment Cemetery.
Pte. 5627180 Harry Jack Myhill formerly of the Devonshire Regiment. Died in Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 1st December 1943, suffering with the disease beri beri. Harry was issued with the POW number 361 and was buried in grave 221 at the Cantonment Cemetery.
Pte. 5116611 Alfred Nicholls formerly of the Royal Warwickshire Regiment. Alfred was captured on the 2nd April 1943 and was issued with the POW number 340 whilst inside Rangoon Jail. He was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the village of Waw, situated close to the Burmese town of Pegu.
Lance Corporal 4202366 Hugh Thomas Owen formerly of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 12th December 1943. He had been issued with the POW number 498 during his time in the jail. It is almost certain that Hugh was buried at the Cantonment Cemetery, however no grave details were recorded.
Pte. 5115405 Philip Sydney Parsons from Saltley in Birmingham, died in Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 15th October 1943. Philip was issued with the POW number 549 during his time at the jail.
Pte. 3779630 Roy Renton from Liverpool, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 30th December 1943. He was issued with the POW number 514 and was buried in grave 141 at the English Cantonment Cemetery. From the pages of the Liverpool Echo, Friday June 29th 1945 and under the headline: Local Casualties, News of our Men in the Forces:
Mrs. E. Renton, 53 Alderson Road, Liverpool 15, has been informed by the War Office that her youngest son, Private Roy Renton, aged 30, of the King's Regiment, died in a Japanese prison camp on December 30th 1943. He joined up in 1940 and went into Burma to join 'Wingate's Follies' in June 1942, being taken prisoner on April 2nd 1943. He was an old boy of St. Bridget's School, Wavertree, and prior to joining up was employed at the Liverpool branch of Wall's Ltd.
Pte. 3779273 Thomas Alfred Roberston from Wavertree in Liverpool, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 7th March 1944. Thomas was issued with the POW number 533 and was buried in grave 162 at the English Cantonment Cemetery.
It has now transpired that Thomas Robertson acted as Orderly to Lt. William Roberts, known to all as Gerry and commander of No. 9 Rifle Platoon in 5 Column. Below is an entry from the personal diary of Lt. Gerry Roberts, dated 6th March 1943 and in relation to 5 Column's skirmish with the Japanese at the village of Kyaik-in:
On leaving the bivouac area to proceed to Bonchaung, I was advance group commander. Captain Tommy Roberts had gone ahead on the right of the road and bumped the enemy; this report was sent back and I was sent forward to make good a bend in the road, while the Column beat it into the jungle. I led my group forward, when I got to the bend, I was greeted by machine gun fire. I went forward to recce the area accompanied by Robertson my Orderly, I hadn’t any idea where the enemy were, but soon found out; we went across some open ground and before we could do anything about it, two machine guns got into position and pinned us down behind isolated cover at about 20 yards.
I manoeuvred my group into position and concentrated all my fire power on to the enemy positions. As soon as I gave the order to fire, my Orderly and I made a run for it and made it back with bursts of fire falling all around us. I sent back my report and was ordered to hold the enemy while the Column went on to Bonchaung to blow the railway bridge. Not only did we hold them, but we wiped them out and there were no casualties in my group, but on entering the village we found Lt. John Kerr and six others badly wounded and five others killed.
I moved the wounded that could be moved to a safer place and saw that they had food and water. I could not and was not allowed to bring in the stretcher cases, they by order had to be left, but I took with me the walking wounded. We are now at Bonchaung, having made a forced march to get here in time (for the demolitions), feeling rather tired, the men are feeling the reaction of their first big engagement. My Orderly brings me some well-earned tea. Good old Robertson, he looks after me so very well.
To read more about 5 Column's engagement at Kyaik-in, please click on the following link: Lieutenant John Kerr and the Fighting Men of Kyaik-in
Pte. 3779454 Charles Ross, died on the 2nd April 1943 at the Shweli River.
Pte. 3780368 Elijah Roberts, died in Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 29th June 1944, suffering from the effects of cholera. He was issued with the POW number 347 in Rangoon and was buried in grave 191 at the Cantonment Cemetery. To read more about this man, please click on the following link and scroll down alphabetically: Roll Call P-T
Sgt. 3529951 George Patrick Skillander from Boyle County in Ireland was captured on the 2nd April 1943 at the Shweli River. He was issued with the POW number 109 at Rangoon Jail, but was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the Burmese village of Waw.
Lance Corporal 3779555 Robert Patterson Irvine Mitchell from Ellesmere Port, died on the 25th April 1944 suffering from the effects of beri beri. He was given the POW number 332 whilst inside Rangoon Jail and was buried in grave 176 at the English Cantonment Cemetery.
Pte. 5627180 Harry Jack Myhill formerly of the Devonshire Regiment. Died in Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 1st December 1943, suffering with the disease beri beri. Harry was issued with the POW number 361 and was buried in grave 221 at the Cantonment Cemetery.
Pte. 5116611 Alfred Nicholls formerly of the Royal Warwickshire Regiment. Alfred was captured on the 2nd April 1943 and was issued with the POW number 340 whilst inside Rangoon Jail. He was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the village of Waw, situated close to the Burmese town of Pegu.
Lance Corporal 4202366 Hugh Thomas Owen formerly of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 12th December 1943. He had been issued with the POW number 498 during his time in the jail. It is almost certain that Hugh was buried at the Cantonment Cemetery, however no grave details were recorded.
Pte. 5115405 Philip Sydney Parsons from Saltley in Birmingham, died in Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 15th October 1943. Philip was issued with the POW number 549 during his time at the jail.
Pte. 3779630 Roy Renton from Liverpool, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 30th December 1943. He was issued with the POW number 514 and was buried in grave 141 at the English Cantonment Cemetery. From the pages of the Liverpool Echo, Friday June 29th 1945 and under the headline: Local Casualties, News of our Men in the Forces:
Mrs. E. Renton, 53 Alderson Road, Liverpool 15, has been informed by the War Office that her youngest son, Private Roy Renton, aged 30, of the King's Regiment, died in a Japanese prison camp on December 30th 1943. He joined up in 1940 and went into Burma to join 'Wingate's Follies' in June 1942, being taken prisoner on April 2nd 1943. He was an old boy of St. Bridget's School, Wavertree, and prior to joining up was employed at the Liverpool branch of Wall's Ltd.
Pte. 3779273 Thomas Alfred Roberston from Wavertree in Liverpool, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 7th March 1944. Thomas was issued with the POW number 533 and was buried in grave 162 at the English Cantonment Cemetery.
It has now transpired that Thomas Robertson acted as Orderly to Lt. William Roberts, known to all as Gerry and commander of No. 9 Rifle Platoon in 5 Column. Below is an entry from the personal diary of Lt. Gerry Roberts, dated 6th March 1943 and in relation to 5 Column's skirmish with the Japanese at the village of Kyaik-in:
On leaving the bivouac area to proceed to Bonchaung, I was advance group commander. Captain Tommy Roberts had gone ahead on the right of the road and bumped the enemy; this report was sent back and I was sent forward to make good a bend in the road, while the Column beat it into the jungle. I led my group forward, when I got to the bend, I was greeted by machine gun fire. I went forward to recce the area accompanied by Robertson my Orderly, I hadn’t any idea where the enemy were, but soon found out; we went across some open ground and before we could do anything about it, two machine guns got into position and pinned us down behind isolated cover at about 20 yards.
I manoeuvred my group into position and concentrated all my fire power on to the enemy positions. As soon as I gave the order to fire, my Orderly and I made a run for it and made it back with bursts of fire falling all around us. I sent back my report and was ordered to hold the enemy while the Column went on to Bonchaung to blow the railway bridge. Not only did we hold them, but we wiped them out and there were no casualties in my group, but on entering the village we found Lt. John Kerr and six others badly wounded and five others killed.
I moved the wounded that could be moved to a safer place and saw that they had food and water. I could not and was not allowed to bring in the stretcher cases, they by order had to be left, but I took with me the walking wounded. We are now at Bonchaung, having made a forced march to get here in time (for the demolitions), feeling rather tired, the men are feeling the reaction of their first big engagement. My Orderly brings me some well-earned tea. Good old Robertson, he looks after me so very well.
To read more about 5 Column's engagement at Kyaik-in, please click on the following link: Lieutenant John Kerr and the Fighting Men of Kyaik-in
Pte. 3779454 Charles Ross, died on the 2nd April 1943 at the Shweli River.
Pte. 3780368 Elijah Roberts, died in Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 29th June 1944, suffering from the effects of cholera. He was issued with the POW number 347 in Rangoon and was buried in grave 191 at the Cantonment Cemetery. To read more about this man, please click on the following link and scroll down alphabetically: Roll Call P-T
Sgt. 3529951 George Patrick Skillander from Boyle County in Ireland was captured on the 2nd April 1943 at the Shweli River. He was issued with the POW number 109 at Rangoon Jail, but was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the Burmese village of Waw.

Pte. 3779367 Edward Sneade was born on the 9th December 1912 and was the son of Edward and Martha Sneade from Liverpool. He was captured on the 2nd April 1943 at the Shweli River, but according to his liberation questionnaire did not reach Rangoon Central Jail until the 8th June.
He was incarcerated in Block 6 of the prison and issued with the POW number 359, which he would be required to recite at all morning and evening roll calls. After spending 23 months at Rangoon, Edward was finally liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the Burmese village of Waw. His POW index card can be viewed in the gallery of images immediately below this section.
From an undated newspaper (possibly the Liverpool Evening News) announcement entitled: With the Chindits
Mr. and Mrs. E. Sneade of 421 Walton Breck Road, have received a telegram from their eldest son, Lance Corporal Edward Sneade, from whom they have not heard for over two years, that he has been liberated from Rangoon and is on his way home. He was one of the Liverpool Kingsmen who were with Wingate's Chindits in 1943 and was captured by the Japanese in April that year. His younger brother, Laurence of the Royal Marines, who was captured at Crete arrived home about a week ago.
He was incarcerated in Block 6 of the prison and issued with the POW number 359, which he would be required to recite at all morning and evening roll calls. After spending 23 months at Rangoon, Edward was finally liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the Burmese village of Waw. His POW index card can be viewed in the gallery of images immediately below this section.
From an undated newspaper (possibly the Liverpool Evening News) announcement entitled: With the Chindits
Mr. and Mrs. E. Sneade of 421 Walton Breck Road, have received a telegram from their eldest son, Lance Corporal Edward Sneade, from whom they have not heard for over two years, that he has been liberated from Rangoon and is on his way home. He was one of the Liverpool Kingsmen who were with Wingate's Chindits in 1943 and was captured by the Japanese in April that year. His younger brother, Laurence of the Royal Marines, who was captured at Crete arrived home about a week ago.

Pte. 4198702 John Henry Taylor from Ardwick in Manchester, died in Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 13th July 1943. He was issued with the POW number 511 and was buried in grave 66 at the English Cantonment Cemetery. From the pages of the Manchester Evening News dated Thursday 13th December 1945 and under the headline, Roll of Honour in Memoriam:
Loving 28th birthday memories of our dear son, Harry Taylor (13th King's) died July 13th 1943 in Japanese hands. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember you. From Mother, Dad and brother Ernest. 92 Anson Road, Denton. Followed by: Sweet 28th birthday memories of our dear nephew, Harry. Though no card to wish, you will always be remembered. From you loving Aunt Lilly and Uncle Walter and family. 25 Fovant Crescent, Reddish.
Sgt. 3780081 Albert Henry Wray from Salford in Lancashire, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 7th March 1944. His POW number was 489 and he was buried in grave 163 at the Cantonment Cemetery.
Pte. 3862040 James Zorn from Earlstown in Lancashire, was captured on the 2nd April 1943 at the Shweli River. His POW number was 352, but James was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the Burmese village of Waw. To read more about this soldier, please click on the following link: Jimmy Zorn, always last on the list.
Seen below are some of the POW index cards for men held at Rangoon Central Jail. These documents form part of the file reference WO345, held at our National Archives in London. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
Loving 28th birthday memories of our dear son, Harry Taylor (13th King's) died July 13th 1943 in Japanese hands. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember you. From Mother, Dad and brother Ernest. 92 Anson Road, Denton. Followed by: Sweet 28th birthday memories of our dear nephew, Harry. Though no card to wish, you will always be remembered. From you loving Aunt Lilly and Uncle Walter and family. 25 Fovant Crescent, Reddish.
Sgt. 3780081 Albert Henry Wray from Salford in Lancashire, died inside Block 6 of Rangoon Jail on the 7th March 1944. His POW number was 489 and he was buried in grave 163 at the Cantonment Cemetery.
Pte. 3862040 James Zorn from Earlstown in Lancashire, was captured on the 2nd April 1943 at the Shweli River. His POW number was 352, but James was liberated on the 29th April 1945 at the Burmese village of Waw. To read more about this soldier, please click on the following link: Jimmy Zorn, always last on the list.
Seen below are some of the POW index cards for men held at Rangoon Central Jail. These documents form part of the file reference WO345, held at our National Archives in London. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
I have found written evidence suggesting that Gurkha Rifleman 107517 Gamane Rai was also captured on the sandbank at the Shweli River. In his own witness statement, given on the 21st November 1944, the Gurkha describes his escape from a camp near the Burmese town of Katha. He also recounts his original capture, along with 17 other Gurkha soldiers:
I went into Burma with No. 5 Column in January 1943. The commander of my section was Jemadar Harkaman Tamang. After crossing the Irrawaddy River, we went up to the Shweli River. On arrival here we came to know of an enemy force of large numbers, so we received orders to retire from the area.
After marching some days in the jungle we arrived once again at the banks of the Irrawaddy where we found two boats and a Burmese to ferry us across. They took us to the other end of the river where there were two streams. We crossed the first stream, but were left on some sand, the Burmese men ran away with the boats without helping us across the second stream so we had to spend the night in the sand.
The next day at about 4am. the Japanese opened fire on us making some casualties. Then one of the British Other Ranks hanged a white napkin on his rifle and raised it in the sky, then they ceased firing. They came to us and withdrew all our weapons and other equipment. Then they took us to the other end of the river. We had our hands tied for one week while we remained at a village near the river.
Our group was made up of about 20 B.O.R.'s and 17 Gurkhas. We were eventually taken to Bhamo Jail where we remained for sometime. After staying there they detailed us as mule drivers, giving us animals to look after. We then moved on to Maymyo Jail, after a short while the Japanese sent the British men off to Rangoon. From our number they selected 12 men, including myself and sent us to Katha Camp. On arrival, myself and two others were assigned 'grooming' duties for mules, while the others were given other more general tasks. We remained at Katha for one and a half years, mostly carrying rations to one place or another.
I firmly believe that Rfm. Gamane Rai has confused the Irrawaddy and Shweli Rivers in his account, as he has very accurately described the incident at the Shweli sandbank on 1st April 1943.
After bridging that final and fateful stretch of water, Major Fergusson and the remainder of his column bivouaced a few miles to the west, near a village called Kundaw. It must have been the commander's greatest wish, that the 40 or so men he had left on the sandbank would suddenly appear at the camp, having at last found it within themselves to make the crossing. This was not to be and as 5 Column broke camp the next morning and continued on their journey, they numbered just 75.
NB. From the pages of Philip Stibbe's book, Return via Rangoon:
After my own capture in late March and the collection of other prisoners gathered from around Hintha, we eventually arrived at Bhamo Jail. We were searched once again and then put into a large room on the first floor of the building. In this room we found about sixty of our men, including about twenty Gurkhas; they were nearly all 5 Column men who I learned later, had all failed to cross the Shweli River on the 1st April.
Update 19/11/2016.
RAF Sergeant 1292048 Richard Norman Wood, was the husband of Ivy Charlotte Wood from Leytonstone in East London. Richard was recorded as being captured at the Shweli on an Army Authority casualty witness statement, covering several of the RAF Liaison personnel lost on Operation Longcloth. The statement compiled on the 19th September 1943 simply read:
1292048 LAC A/SGT. WOOD, was a member of a party from 5 Column, crossing the Shweli River at a point near Tokkin village in the early hours of the 1st April 1943. The party crossed half-way by boat to a sandbank in the middle of the river. Some men waded the final 50 yards to the opposite bank. This Airman was last seen left behind on the sandbank.
Richard Wood died in Block 6 of Rangoon Central Jail on the 10th February 1944 and was buried at the English Cantonment Cemetery, located in the eastern sector of the city, close to the Royal Lakes. His grave reference was recorded as 152 and his POW number was 487. After the war, all burials from the Cantonment Cemetery were moved over to the newly constructed Rangoon War Cemetery situated between the Myienegone and Manthawaddy roundabouts, approximately five kilometres from the main Railway Station.
Seen below is a small gallery of images in relation to Sgt. Wood, please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
I went into Burma with No. 5 Column in January 1943. The commander of my section was Jemadar Harkaman Tamang. After crossing the Irrawaddy River, we went up to the Shweli River. On arrival here we came to know of an enemy force of large numbers, so we received orders to retire from the area.
After marching some days in the jungle we arrived once again at the banks of the Irrawaddy where we found two boats and a Burmese to ferry us across. They took us to the other end of the river where there were two streams. We crossed the first stream, but were left on some sand, the Burmese men ran away with the boats without helping us across the second stream so we had to spend the night in the sand.
The next day at about 4am. the Japanese opened fire on us making some casualties. Then one of the British Other Ranks hanged a white napkin on his rifle and raised it in the sky, then they ceased firing. They came to us and withdrew all our weapons and other equipment. Then they took us to the other end of the river. We had our hands tied for one week while we remained at a village near the river.
Our group was made up of about 20 B.O.R.'s and 17 Gurkhas. We were eventually taken to Bhamo Jail where we remained for sometime. After staying there they detailed us as mule drivers, giving us animals to look after. We then moved on to Maymyo Jail, after a short while the Japanese sent the British men off to Rangoon. From our number they selected 12 men, including myself and sent us to Katha Camp. On arrival, myself and two others were assigned 'grooming' duties for mules, while the others were given other more general tasks. We remained at Katha for one and a half years, mostly carrying rations to one place or another.
I firmly believe that Rfm. Gamane Rai has confused the Irrawaddy and Shweli Rivers in his account, as he has very accurately described the incident at the Shweli sandbank on 1st April 1943.
After bridging that final and fateful stretch of water, Major Fergusson and the remainder of his column bivouaced a few miles to the west, near a village called Kundaw. It must have been the commander's greatest wish, that the 40 or so men he had left on the sandbank would suddenly appear at the camp, having at last found it within themselves to make the crossing. This was not to be and as 5 Column broke camp the next morning and continued on their journey, they numbered just 75.
NB. From the pages of Philip Stibbe's book, Return via Rangoon:
After my own capture in late March and the collection of other prisoners gathered from around Hintha, we eventually arrived at Bhamo Jail. We were searched once again and then put into a large room on the first floor of the building. In this room we found about sixty of our men, including about twenty Gurkhas; they were nearly all 5 Column men who I learned later, had all failed to cross the Shweli River on the 1st April.
Update 19/11/2016.
RAF Sergeant 1292048 Richard Norman Wood, was the husband of Ivy Charlotte Wood from Leytonstone in East London. Richard was recorded as being captured at the Shweli on an Army Authority casualty witness statement, covering several of the RAF Liaison personnel lost on Operation Longcloth. The statement compiled on the 19th September 1943 simply read:
1292048 LAC A/SGT. WOOD, was a member of a party from 5 Column, crossing the Shweli River at a point near Tokkin village in the early hours of the 1st April 1943. The party crossed half-way by boat to a sandbank in the middle of the river. Some men waded the final 50 yards to the opposite bank. This Airman was last seen left behind on the sandbank.
Richard Wood died in Block 6 of Rangoon Central Jail on the 10th February 1944 and was buried at the English Cantonment Cemetery, located in the eastern sector of the city, close to the Royal Lakes. His grave reference was recorded as 152 and his POW number was 487. After the war, all burials from the Cantonment Cemetery were moved over to the newly constructed Rangoon War Cemetery situated between the Myienegone and Manthawaddy roundabouts, approximately five kilometres from the main Railway Station.
Seen below is a small gallery of images in relation to Sgt. Wood, please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
Copyright © Steve Fogden, July 2016.