The Piccadilly Incident
The place, the passengers and the plane.
At 11.00 hours on the 28th April 1943 a C47 Dakota aircraft landed in a jungle clearing a few miles west of the Irrawaddy township of Bhamo. Eighteen sick and wounded men from 8 Column boarded the plane and flew out to the safety of India. This incident and the associated photographs has become one of the most recognisable and iconic stories to come out of the first Chindit operation. There follows a brief account of the incident as told by some of the participants, also included are many of the incredible images snapped up by the press photographer present at the time.
Here is how Sergeant Tony Aubrey remembered the lead up to the Dakota rescue and the column's initial discovery of the jungle clearing close to the Burmese village of Sonpu:
Long marches, scanty and irregular food, lack of water, heat, fever, mosquitos, short rations of sleep, and, by far the worst of all, the constant uncertainty of life in an enemy country, had taken their toll. It was all we could do to force ourselves along, and the very thought of any extra burden was utterly intolerable.
That evening, we were drawing near the place which Major Scott had given as the place for the dropping from the air. The jungle was thick here, and it looked as though we might have difficulty, first, in contacting the plane, and second, in retrieving what they dropped. It looked as though the spot chosen without knowledge of the country and only from our maps which were not perfect, was to turn out to be by no means an ideal one.
However, the luck of the Scott's held good. About 6.30, we suddenly emerged from thick jungle to find ourselves on the edge of a clearing. It was like coming out of the densest wood on to the middle of an English meadow. There was not even scrub growing in this clearing, just short grass. There was one thought in all our minds. Tommy Vann, as usual, put it into words. "Bring on the ruddy Air Force!" he said. It was hard to believe that this open space had not been made by hands. It was in the shape of an enormous "T." We were standing at the foot of the upright, which was 400 yards wide and 1200 yards long. The stroke was 300 yards wide and 800 yards long. It was a perfect natural aerodrome.
The map featured below shows the area around the village of Sonpu, with the open clearing (later codenamed Piccadilly) depicted as a long and thin white space. The map also shows 8 Column's previous line of march from the Irrawaddy.
At 11.00 hours on the 28th April 1943 a C47 Dakota aircraft landed in a jungle clearing a few miles west of the Irrawaddy township of Bhamo. Eighteen sick and wounded men from 8 Column boarded the plane and flew out to the safety of India. This incident and the associated photographs has become one of the most recognisable and iconic stories to come out of the first Chindit operation. There follows a brief account of the incident as told by some of the participants, also included are many of the incredible images snapped up by the press photographer present at the time.
Here is how Sergeant Tony Aubrey remembered the lead up to the Dakota rescue and the column's initial discovery of the jungle clearing close to the Burmese village of Sonpu:
Long marches, scanty and irregular food, lack of water, heat, fever, mosquitos, short rations of sleep, and, by far the worst of all, the constant uncertainty of life in an enemy country, had taken their toll. It was all we could do to force ourselves along, and the very thought of any extra burden was utterly intolerable.
That evening, we were drawing near the place which Major Scott had given as the place for the dropping from the air. The jungle was thick here, and it looked as though we might have difficulty, first, in contacting the plane, and second, in retrieving what they dropped. It looked as though the spot chosen without knowledge of the country and only from our maps which were not perfect, was to turn out to be by no means an ideal one.
However, the luck of the Scott's held good. About 6.30, we suddenly emerged from thick jungle to find ourselves on the edge of a clearing. It was like coming out of the densest wood on to the middle of an English meadow. There was not even scrub growing in this clearing, just short grass. There was one thought in all our minds. Tommy Vann, as usual, put it into words. "Bring on the ruddy Air Force!" he said. It was hard to believe that this open space had not been made by hands. It was in the shape of an enormous "T." We were standing at the foot of the upright, which was 400 yards wide and 1200 yards long. The stroke was 300 yards wide and 800 yards long. It was a perfect natural aerodrome.
The map featured below shows the area around the village of Sonpu, with the open clearing (later codenamed Piccadilly) depicted as a long and thin white space. The map also shows 8 Column's previous line of march from the Irrawaddy.
Map of the area around Sonpu, showing the open space later to be codenamed 'Piccadilly.'
The story of the 'Piccadilly' landing has been recounted in many books concerning the Chindits, it has also been mentioned on these website pages on several occasions. In his book 'Wingate's Raiders', author, Charles J. Rolo described the events of the 24-28th April 1943, as told to him by some of the survivors from 8 Column:
The rendezvous for the dropping was a clearing near Bhamo, a large town one hundred and fifty miles behind the Japanese lines and not far from the China frontier. On the way to the rendezvous they ran out of rations.
They dared not venture into the villages as the whole area was now heavily patrolled by the enemy. With nothing to eat but bamboo shoots and jungle palms, they began to drop like flies from hunger and disease. Marching along through dark jungle shuttered from the sky with creepers, Major Scott noticed that the track ahead of him was growing lighter, as though he were nearing the end of a tunnel. Quite suddenly he was standing on the edge of the jungle, looking out on to what was probably the only large patch of grassland in Northern Burma. This was the rendezvous.
Next day, with luck, the R.A.F. would drop them food and new equipment. There remained the problem of the sick and wounded. Sheer guts had carried them this far, but Scott knew that not one of them could ever make the long trek to Blighty.
There was Colonel Cooke, one of Wingate's senior officers, weakened with dysentery and covered with deep, festering jungle sores; Corporal Jimmy Walker, who had dropped out of line two days before with dysentery and an infected hip, and had somehow dragged himself along behind them and Lance-Corporal Fred Nightingale, worn to a skeleton by ulcers. Private Robert Hulse had ruptured himself carrying a machine-gun through the hills, and every few hours was seized with violent fits of vomiting. Private Jim Suddery had been shot in the back, and the bullet had gone right through him, leaving a purplish hole in his abdomen, somehow he was still marching. A Burma Rifleman was shivering and sweating with malignant malaria.
These and a dozen others had fought long and well. They must not be left to Japanese bayonets. Scott knew they had only one hope, rescue from the air. He stared out at the clearing. It was bumpy and badly pitted, but a good pilot would have a sporting chance of landing.
He sent for the Sergeant-Major. "Tell the men to tear some parachutes into strips and spell out the words 'PLANE LAND HERE.' Eventually the planes came over and dropped supplies. Circling low, they picked out the message, and one of them pointed its nose to the ground. It skimmed the jagged field and roared up again. The Chindits watched, breathless. Inside the plane Flying Officer Lummie Lord yelled at the crew, "Hold tight, boys, we'll try again." Teeth clenched, drenched with sweat, he put the plane down. The field jumped up at them, rough turf scarred with pot-holes flashed past the windows. Flying Officer Lord (David Lord DFC, VC) cursed savagely into the roar of the engines. Not a hope. He swung his machine into a wide arc and headed for home.
Back at base he reported to Wing Commander Burbury : "It can be done if they mark out a runway." Off went another plane with a message to the Chindits. "Mark out a 200 yard landing-ground to hold a 12-ton transport."
On Tuesday at dawn the rescue plane took off, rocketing into the rising sun with Flying Officer Michael Vlasto at the controls. Before it left the supply officer handed each crew member a pair of army boots. "You may need these," he explained cheerily, "to walk home in." The crew was a mixed lot, catapulted by war from the corners of Empire into a late model American aircraft just out of a California factory.
Vlasto, dark, going bald, hatchet-faced had sandwiched twelve hundred hours flying time between civilian life in Calcutta's jute mills and this April morning. His second, Pilot-Sergeant Frank Murray, had left high school in Kingston Jamaica, to be trained as a flier in the New World. The Empire Air Training Scheme had given him his wings, and chance had picked him out of thousands for duty on the India-Burma front. Vlasto's radio operator, Sergeant Jack Reeves, hailed from Bradford, Ontario. There was no sounder man in the squadron. His mates called him " Happy." They'd never seen him smile. The flight rigger, Sergeant Charles Alfred May, was a mechanic in a garage in Leeds when Hitler invaded Poland. He had worked his way to India by way of the Libyan desert, but close contact with Stukas had not jarred his good humour.
The huge plane picked up fighter escort and stabbed into Burma, cruising easily at 160 m.p.h. "She's a hot crate," Vlasto thought. "But she can't be too hot for this job." Smoke fires pointed the way to the clearing. Vlasto dipped and spotted a white line across the field. Dropping low, he read the message : "Land on white line. Ground there V.G."
First the plane circled, releasing more supplies for the column. Then Vlasto skimmed the landing strip, weighing his chances. It was about eight hundred yards long, but four hundred yards too short for comfort. A strong wind was blowing up the runway towards the tall teak forest, two hundred yards beyond where the white line ended. Vlasto knew that if anything went wrong they'd be past needing those boots. "What about it ? he asked the co-pilot." Here's hoping," Murray said fervently. "Plane landing" Vlasto yelled to the crew, and they braced themselves in the rear.
The big transport hit ground and touched down easily. Vlasto braked hard. They pulled up just at the end of the strip and taxied back slowly. A band of hill-billy assassins tumbled out of the jungle and crowded happily around the plane. Mortar and Bren-gun crews remained at their posts. The Japs might attack any minute, it was a miracle they had not discovered the landing-ground days ago. The eighteen sick and wounded filed out from under cover and hobbled towards the plane. Some had to be supported, but they all wore their packs. For every one of them it was a reprieve from certain death.
At the steps of the plane the eighteenth man (later to be identified as Sergeant Bert Fitton) halted and turned to Major Scott. "I'm all right, sir. I came in on my feet, and I'd like to go out the same way." Scott smiled. "Good man," he said, and No. 18 joined the group posing for a farewell picture. As the crew scrambled into the plane the Chindits waved their hats three times and cheered silently through closed lips. The motors hummed and the door slammed to. Twelve minutes after landing the plane took off with seventeen walking hospital cases.
She lifted slowly, labouring heavily. In the cockpit Vlasto and Murray sat, dead white, with their eyes glued on the teak-trees rushing towards the windshield. The runway was too short and the plane overloaded. Sweat poured down their faces, they were heading straight into the top branches. Vlasto was listening for the crash when the plane heaved and bounced upward. A frantic lift and over she went. Tree-tops flashed below the wing-tips. Murray grinned at Vlasto, "Six inches to spare." Vlasto brushed the sweat off his forehead, "God bless No. 18" he replied.
Seen in the gallery below are some extracts from the 8 Column War diary, recounting the days leading up to the Dakota rescue incident. Also shown are some aerial photographs of the jungle clearing at Sonpu and of the eighteen Chindits safely aboard the rescue plane. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
The rendezvous for the dropping was a clearing near Bhamo, a large town one hundred and fifty miles behind the Japanese lines and not far from the China frontier. On the way to the rendezvous they ran out of rations.
They dared not venture into the villages as the whole area was now heavily patrolled by the enemy. With nothing to eat but bamboo shoots and jungle palms, they began to drop like flies from hunger and disease. Marching along through dark jungle shuttered from the sky with creepers, Major Scott noticed that the track ahead of him was growing lighter, as though he were nearing the end of a tunnel. Quite suddenly he was standing on the edge of the jungle, looking out on to what was probably the only large patch of grassland in Northern Burma. This was the rendezvous.
Next day, with luck, the R.A.F. would drop them food and new equipment. There remained the problem of the sick and wounded. Sheer guts had carried them this far, but Scott knew that not one of them could ever make the long trek to Blighty.
There was Colonel Cooke, one of Wingate's senior officers, weakened with dysentery and covered with deep, festering jungle sores; Corporal Jimmy Walker, who had dropped out of line two days before with dysentery and an infected hip, and had somehow dragged himself along behind them and Lance-Corporal Fred Nightingale, worn to a skeleton by ulcers. Private Robert Hulse had ruptured himself carrying a machine-gun through the hills, and every few hours was seized with violent fits of vomiting. Private Jim Suddery had been shot in the back, and the bullet had gone right through him, leaving a purplish hole in his abdomen, somehow he was still marching. A Burma Rifleman was shivering and sweating with malignant malaria.
These and a dozen others had fought long and well. They must not be left to Japanese bayonets. Scott knew they had only one hope, rescue from the air. He stared out at the clearing. It was bumpy and badly pitted, but a good pilot would have a sporting chance of landing.
He sent for the Sergeant-Major. "Tell the men to tear some parachutes into strips and spell out the words 'PLANE LAND HERE.' Eventually the planes came over and dropped supplies. Circling low, they picked out the message, and one of them pointed its nose to the ground. It skimmed the jagged field and roared up again. The Chindits watched, breathless. Inside the plane Flying Officer Lummie Lord yelled at the crew, "Hold tight, boys, we'll try again." Teeth clenched, drenched with sweat, he put the plane down. The field jumped up at them, rough turf scarred with pot-holes flashed past the windows. Flying Officer Lord (David Lord DFC, VC) cursed savagely into the roar of the engines. Not a hope. He swung his machine into a wide arc and headed for home.
Back at base he reported to Wing Commander Burbury : "It can be done if they mark out a runway." Off went another plane with a message to the Chindits. "Mark out a 200 yard landing-ground to hold a 12-ton transport."
On Tuesday at dawn the rescue plane took off, rocketing into the rising sun with Flying Officer Michael Vlasto at the controls. Before it left the supply officer handed each crew member a pair of army boots. "You may need these," he explained cheerily, "to walk home in." The crew was a mixed lot, catapulted by war from the corners of Empire into a late model American aircraft just out of a California factory.
Vlasto, dark, going bald, hatchet-faced had sandwiched twelve hundred hours flying time between civilian life in Calcutta's jute mills and this April morning. His second, Pilot-Sergeant Frank Murray, had left high school in Kingston Jamaica, to be trained as a flier in the New World. The Empire Air Training Scheme had given him his wings, and chance had picked him out of thousands for duty on the India-Burma front. Vlasto's radio operator, Sergeant Jack Reeves, hailed from Bradford, Ontario. There was no sounder man in the squadron. His mates called him " Happy." They'd never seen him smile. The flight rigger, Sergeant Charles Alfred May, was a mechanic in a garage in Leeds when Hitler invaded Poland. He had worked his way to India by way of the Libyan desert, but close contact with Stukas had not jarred his good humour.
The huge plane picked up fighter escort and stabbed into Burma, cruising easily at 160 m.p.h. "She's a hot crate," Vlasto thought. "But she can't be too hot for this job." Smoke fires pointed the way to the clearing. Vlasto dipped and spotted a white line across the field. Dropping low, he read the message : "Land on white line. Ground there V.G."
First the plane circled, releasing more supplies for the column. Then Vlasto skimmed the landing strip, weighing his chances. It was about eight hundred yards long, but four hundred yards too short for comfort. A strong wind was blowing up the runway towards the tall teak forest, two hundred yards beyond where the white line ended. Vlasto knew that if anything went wrong they'd be past needing those boots. "What about it ? he asked the co-pilot." Here's hoping," Murray said fervently. "Plane landing" Vlasto yelled to the crew, and they braced themselves in the rear.
The big transport hit ground and touched down easily. Vlasto braked hard. They pulled up just at the end of the strip and taxied back slowly. A band of hill-billy assassins tumbled out of the jungle and crowded happily around the plane. Mortar and Bren-gun crews remained at their posts. The Japs might attack any minute, it was a miracle they had not discovered the landing-ground days ago. The eighteen sick and wounded filed out from under cover and hobbled towards the plane. Some had to be supported, but they all wore their packs. For every one of them it was a reprieve from certain death.
At the steps of the plane the eighteenth man (later to be identified as Sergeant Bert Fitton) halted and turned to Major Scott. "I'm all right, sir. I came in on my feet, and I'd like to go out the same way." Scott smiled. "Good man," he said, and No. 18 joined the group posing for a farewell picture. As the crew scrambled into the plane the Chindits waved their hats three times and cheered silently through closed lips. The motors hummed and the door slammed to. Twelve minutes after landing the plane took off with seventeen walking hospital cases.
She lifted slowly, labouring heavily. In the cockpit Vlasto and Murray sat, dead white, with their eyes glued on the teak-trees rushing towards the windshield. The runway was too short and the plane overloaded. Sweat poured down their faces, they were heading straight into the top branches. Vlasto was listening for the crash when the plane heaved and bounced upward. A frantic lift and over she went. Tree-tops flashed below the wing-tips. Murray grinned at Vlasto, "Six inches to spare." Vlasto brushed the sweat off his forehead, "God bless No. 18" he replied.
Seen in the gallery below are some extracts from the 8 Column War diary, recounting the days leading up to the Dakota rescue incident. Also shown are some aerial photographs of the jungle clearing at Sonpu and of the eighteen Chindits safely aboard the rescue plane. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
On board Dakota FD-781, part of 31 Squadron's complement at Agartala air base in 1943, was war correspondent William Vandivert and his official photographer. They had heard about the imminent rescue of the stranded Chindits and had tagged along with the Dakota crew looking for the chance of a good story for the readers of the popular 'Illustrated' magazine.
From the Illustrated magazine; issue published 10th July 1943, with William Vandivert narrating:
The Colonel, C.O. of one of the groups, sat a step apart at the rear of the plane. Beneath his collar I could see deep, open jungle sores. I stopped beside him as he fumbled through two small packets that were all he had brought with him. From a map folder he carefully drew a folded copy of Punch magazine, and laughed helplessly until a fit of coughing racked it short. It was a copy we had dropped on the Sunday.
A ruptured soldier was barely holding himself together, biting his lips in agony. Man-handling machine guns through the hills, he had ripped himself in a fall. He suddenly leaned over, vomiting. A toad from a Tommy's pack hopped aimlessly until it found a quiet corner. Leaning forward to catch it, a grenade spilled from the soldier's breast pocket and rolled down the floor. The toad disappeared and the soldier fondled the grenade.
Clutching his head, the Burmese soldier crumpled up, groaning, and we cleared a place to lay him rolled in blankets. He was suffering from severe malaria. I sat beside the Colonel, and to the punctuation of that cough, I learned the story of his column. They had been hard on the offensive until a week across the Irrawaddy. They had scored well. Then after the final supply-drop they had split up to recross the river on their return journey and for the first time they had been the hunted, not hunters.
They had bumped into a Japanese patrol, fought well, and headed north. Under the hill by the Irrawaddy they had camped for two days, waiting. River steamer towns above and below them were heavily garrisoned now and all river traffic operated under protection. But on the third morning they had watched three small guard boats work upstream, followed, after half an hour, by a junk creeping up the opposite shore. She had tacked across and grounded on a mudbank right below them.
The troops swarmed out like pirates, took her and hauled back three of her crew who had dived over the side. Less than two hours later they were all across the toughest hurdle, even their last mule. Two days later, however, she died and the radio she carried sent one last message for our supply drop. The mule was buried in the bush.
They had no rations and, foraging in a village, they had found only one cup of rice per man. Japanese patrols had stripped bare the whole countryside along the river. Two days before the rendezvous the men had begun eating jungle leaves and succulent bamboo. They began dropping like flies with hunger. The hardest thing in this warfare had been leaving casualties in the column's track. But that was a law by which all these forces had to move. " Right here," said the Colonel, "we all came very close to God."
Our supplies had saved them. Sunday's drop had turned the tide of fortune. Some stragglers had come up. With rations and unexpected rest they now were fit again for the march to India, racing against time, monsoons and impassable rivers. That was the story. The pilot then gave permission to smoke. The Corporal on the end seat, Fred Nightingale, of Lancaster, handed me a battered tin, saying : "Here, have one of mine. They fly them specially from India for me." A chunk of white parachute around Nightingale's neck made him look garish. Ulcers had worn him thin. The last two days to the rendezvous had been his last effort, and he had known it; will power had just kept him moving. He had straggled back to the rear of the column and seen men dropping by the dusty jungle track. It happened quietly.
One chum, with jungle sores deeply infecting his legs, just couldn't lift them again. He had dropped, saying softly : "Well, I guess I've had it." The column had moved slowly on and dust had settled. The ruptured soldier sat silently forward, elbows on knees. I asked him about the jungle and he only said: "It's bitter cruel." He was Corporal Jimmy Walker, who had dropped two days before the rendezvous with dysentery and infected hips. It was only his great will, too, that had brought him hobbling in the day before.
Then there were the gay ones. Private Jim Suddery, of Islington, North London, for example, fumbled through his purse and held out a light Japanese rifle slug. It had entered his back, rib high, and come out, a purple spot on his belly. 'A Souvenir,' he chuckled, adding : " but you should have seen the ones we gave out."
We crossed the Chindwin through broken cloud and the men peered out, seeing in one hour and a quarter what they had marched across in previous weeks. Landing was a let down. Dead weariness set in again. In reaction to stand and file through the door-way became another incredible effort of will.
Strangely, when they were on the ground, most of them stood unconscious again of packs, talking with fighter pilots who had brought us through. Two Japanese fighters had seen us but had not made a pass at us. Ambulances finally arrived. Flight Sergeant May and I watched them roll away. He said : "Well, I guess that's helping England." H.Q. said no more landings, and we had to agree.
Seen in the Gallery below are some more photographs showing scenes from inside the Dakota plane. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
From the Illustrated magazine; issue published 10th July 1943, with William Vandivert narrating:
The Colonel, C.O. of one of the groups, sat a step apart at the rear of the plane. Beneath his collar I could see deep, open jungle sores. I stopped beside him as he fumbled through two small packets that were all he had brought with him. From a map folder he carefully drew a folded copy of Punch magazine, and laughed helplessly until a fit of coughing racked it short. It was a copy we had dropped on the Sunday.
A ruptured soldier was barely holding himself together, biting his lips in agony. Man-handling machine guns through the hills, he had ripped himself in a fall. He suddenly leaned over, vomiting. A toad from a Tommy's pack hopped aimlessly until it found a quiet corner. Leaning forward to catch it, a grenade spilled from the soldier's breast pocket and rolled down the floor. The toad disappeared and the soldier fondled the grenade.
Clutching his head, the Burmese soldier crumpled up, groaning, and we cleared a place to lay him rolled in blankets. He was suffering from severe malaria. I sat beside the Colonel, and to the punctuation of that cough, I learned the story of his column. They had been hard on the offensive until a week across the Irrawaddy. They had scored well. Then after the final supply-drop they had split up to recross the river on their return journey and for the first time they had been the hunted, not hunters.
They had bumped into a Japanese patrol, fought well, and headed north. Under the hill by the Irrawaddy they had camped for two days, waiting. River steamer towns above and below them were heavily garrisoned now and all river traffic operated under protection. But on the third morning they had watched three small guard boats work upstream, followed, after half an hour, by a junk creeping up the opposite shore. She had tacked across and grounded on a mudbank right below them.
The troops swarmed out like pirates, took her and hauled back three of her crew who had dived over the side. Less than two hours later they were all across the toughest hurdle, even their last mule. Two days later, however, she died and the radio she carried sent one last message for our supply drop. The mule was buried in the bush.
They had no rations and, foraging in a village, they had found only one cup of rice per man. Japanese patrols had stripped bare the whole countryside along the river. Two days before the rendezvous the men had begun eating jungle leaves and succulent bamboo. They began dropping like flies with hunger. The hardest thing in this warfare had been leaving casualties in the column's track. But that was a law by which all these forces had to move. " Right here," said the Colonel, "we all came very close to God."
Our supplies had saved them. Sunday's drop had turned the tide of fortune. Some stragglers had come up. With rations and unexpected rest they now were fit again for the march to India, racing against time, monsoons and impassable rivers. That was the story. The pilot then gave permission to smoke. The Corporal on the end seat, Fred Nightingale, of Lancaster, handed me a battered tin, saying : "Here, have one of mine. They fly them specially from India for me." A chunk of white parachute around Nightingale's neck made him look garish. Ulcers had worn him thin. The last two days to the rendezvous had been his last effort, and he had known it; will power had just kept him moving. He had straggled back to the rear of the column and seen men dropping by the dusty jungle track. It happened quietly.
One chum, with jungle sores deeply infecting his legs, just couldn't lift them again. He had dropped, saying softly : "Well, I guess I've had it." The column had moved slowly on and dust had settled. The ruptured soldier sat silently forward, elbows on knees. I asked him about the jungle and he only said: "It's bitter cruel." He was Corporal Jimmy Walker, who had dropped two days before the rendezvous with dysentery and infected hips. It was only his great will, too, that had brought him hobbling in the day before.
Then there were the gay ones. Private Jim Suddery, of Islington, North London, for example, fumbled through his purse and held out a light Japanese rifle slug. It had entered his back, rib high, and come out, a purple spot on his belly. 'A Souvenir,' he chuckled, adding : " but you should have seen the ones we gave out."
We crossed the Chindwin through broken cloud and the men peered out, seeing in one hour and a quarter what they had marched across in previous weeks. Landing was a let down. Dead weariness set in again. In reaction to stand and file through the door-way became another incredible effort of will.
Strangely, when they were on the ground, most of them stood unconscious again of packs, talking with fighter pilots who had brought us through. Two Japanese fighters had seen us but had not made a pass at us. Ambulances finally arrived. Flight Sergeant May and I watched them roll away. He said : "Well, I guess that's helping England." H.Q. said no more landings, and we had to agree.
Seen in the Gallery below are some more photographs showing scenes from inside the Dakota plane. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
From the various accounts written above, we have learned the names and the maladies of the eighteen soldiers rescued by the Michael Vlasto's C47 Dakota. Of these men, I know that Colonel Sydney Arthur Cooke went on to enjoy a long a successful military career. Tony Aubrey, Fred Nightingale, Jimmy Walker and most of the other men from the list survived the war and travelled home to the United Kingdom in late 1945.
Sadly, Sergeant Jack Berry was killed during the second Chindit expedition in late May 1944. It is likely, although it cannot be confirmed that he died during the evacuation of the 'Blackpool' stronghold, close to the Burmese village of Namkwin. To view Jack's CWGC details, please click on the following link: http://www.cwgc.org/find-war-dead/casualty/2505157/BERRY,%20JACK
Rifleman Kalabahadur also returned to action in 1944. He fought alongside his brothers from the 3/2 Gurkha Rifles in the Arakan area of Burma, helping to expel the Japanese from the region and eventually the entire country.
There was an anecdotal report after the war, that Robert Hulse died at home in early 1946. It is possible that he eventually succumbed to the wounds incurred on Operation Longcloth, but this cannot be confirmed and with that in mind, let us hope that this story is incorrect.
There are a number of stories involving the men from the Dakota evacuation already present on these website pages. To read about these men, please click on the following links:
Lance Corporal Fred Nightingale
Lance Sergeant Tony Aubrey
Michael Vlasto
Sergeant Bert Fitton
Sgt. Jack Berry
The third Gallery in relation to this story shows some more photographs of the men involved in the Dakota incident. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
Sadly, Sergeant Jack Berry was killed during the second Chindit expedition in late May 1944. It is likely, although it cannot be confirmed that he died during the evacuation of the 'Blackpool' stronghold, close to the Burmese village of Namkwin. To view Jack's CWGC details, please click on the following link: http://www.cwgc.org/find-war-dead/casualty/2505157/BERRY,%20JACK
Rifleman Kalabahadur also returned to action in 1944. He fought alongside his brothers from the 3/2 Gurkha Rifles in the Arakan area of Burma, helping to expel the Japanese from the region and eventually the entire country.
There was an anecdotal report after the war, that Robert Hulse died at home in early 1946. It is possible that he eventually succumbed to the wounds incurred on Operation Longcloth, but this cannot be confirmed and with that in mind, let us hope that this story is incorrect.
There are a number of stories involving the men from the Dakota evacuation already present on these website pages. To read about these men, please click on the following links:
Lance Corporal Fred Nightingale
Lance Sergeant Tony Aubrey
Michael Vlasto
Sergeant Bert Fitton
Sgt. Jack Berry
The third Gallery in relation to this story shows some more photographs of the men involved in the Dakota incident. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
31 Squadron and the Dakota Crew
31 Squadron had been set the task of keeping the Chindits fed and watered during 1943. They were based at Agartala, the largest city in the Indian state of Tripura. Apart from the Chindits, the squadron also dropped supplies to units in the Chin Hills and the Imphal area, including to the V Force patrols operating in these locations. During the first Wingate expedition 31 Squadron was led by Wing Commander William Burbury DFC AFC and it was he that chose 'Vicki' as the codename for all supply drops to the Chindits in 1943. This was reputedly named after an Officer's Club and swimming pool the men used to frequent in Calcutta.
Communication between Rear Base at Agartala and the columns in the field was achieved using the RAF 1082/88 Wireless set. These sets were the standard wireless set of the Blenheim Bomber in WW2 and they gave the Chindits approximately 800 miles in range. The first aircraft that attempted a landing at 'Piccadilly' on the 25th April was Dakota FD-787 piloted by Flight Officer David 'Lummie' Lord VC DFC and co-pilot Flight Officer Bary. David Lord died later in the war whilst serving with 271 Squadron during the Battle of Arnhem, for which he was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross.
On his return to Agartala, Flight Officer Lord debriefed the pilots of 31 Squadron on the chances of making a successful landing at 'Piccadilly', within 48 hours Dakota FD-781 piloted by Michael Vlasto had collected eighteen sick and wounded Chindits and was on his way back to India. The full crew list for FD-871 was: Flying Officer Michael Vlasto, Co-Pilot Sergeant Frank Murray, Radio Operator Sergeant Jack Reeves and Flight Rigger Sergeant Charles Alfred May.
Communication between Rear Base at Agartala and the columns in the field was achieved using the RAF 1082/88 Wireless set. These sets were the standard wireless set of the Blenheim Bomber in WW2 and they gave the Chindits approximately 800 miles in range. The first aircraft that attempted a landing at 'Piccadilly' on the 25th April was Dakota FD-787 piloted by Flight Officer David 'Lummie' Lord VC DFC and co-pilot Flight Officer Bary. David Lord died later in the war whilst serving with 271 Squadron during the Battle of Arnhem, for which he was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross.
On his return to Agartala, Flight Officer Lord debriefed the pilots of 31 Squadron on the chances of making a successful landing at 'Piccadilly', within 48 hours Dakota FD-781 piloted by Michael Vlasto had collected eighteen sick and wounded Chindits and was on his way back to India. The full crew list for FD-871 was: Flying Officer Michael Vlasto, Co-Pilot Sergeant Frank Murray, Radio Operator Sergeant Jack Reeves and Flight Rigger Sergeant Charles Alfred May.
On the 3rd May 1943, the Squadron Operations Record Book documented a letter of thanks and appreciation from Colonel Cooke to Wing Commander Burbury and his men. Two days later on the 5th May another cipher message was received from the Commander 77th Brigade (Wingate) which also congratulated the squadron on its performance in supplying the Chindits.
Throughtout the campaign RAF supply dropping was nearly perfect and capable of astonishing performances. W/T was as excellent as it was vital. Cyphers were an unqualified success. Deputy A.O.C. wishes to convey his heartiest congratulations to 31 Squadron on their magnificent performance, also to Rear Headquarters and Squadrons and Units of 224 Group who provided Fighter Escorts.
Sadly, Michael Vlasto's mission in FD-871 was not recorded in the Squadron's ORB.
Meanwhile, back at the jungle clearing the remaining Chindits hoped that more planes would be sent to take them all home and divided themselves into groups in anticipation. But it was not to be. After receiving reports from Lieutenant Colonel Cooke and the pilot of the Dakota, the commander of IV Corps, Major-General G. Scoones decided it was too risky to repeat the operation. In his view, Major Scott had been relieved of his wounded and they now possessed enough supplies to last them three weeks. They also had Bernard Fergusson's details of his escape route, so they were in a much better position to walk out. The next day a plane appeared overhead and dropped a message to Major Scott which read:
"After very careful consideration I have reluctantly decided not to allow the pilot to take the risk of attempting to land his plane again. Apart from the actual landing risks there is considerable danger of interference from Japanese land and air forces. This must, I realise, be a very great disappointment to you and all your men. We will do all in our power to help you, and patrols are now operating east of the Chindwin to meet you. I have no doubt at all that you will be able to reach the Chindwin safely by one of the two routes given you by Fergusson. I have just heard that Wingate crossed the Chindwin today. Hope to see you soon."
Signed G. Scoones, Major General, Corps HQ, 29th April 1943.
Before the plane departed it parachuted more supplies to the men, including a large bundle of new boots. The column, now down to 159 disappointed men shouldered their heavy packs and reluctantly continued their westward journey. General Scoones had been correct in his caution when considering any further rescue missions, as unbeknown to 8 Column, the jungle clearing at Sonpu was just 14 miles from the nearest Japanese airfield and enemy planes had indeed scrambled on the 28th April to investigate the RAF activity in the area that day.
Many years after the war, 8 Column Commander, Major Walter Purcell Scott recalled the 'Piccadilly' incident at a reunion with the RAF personnel of 31 Squadron. From the book, First in the Indian Skies:
'Plane Land Here Now' was the request that 31 Squadron so nobly answered. This air rescue undoubtedly pioneered the air evacuation of the wounded and sick from deep inside Burma during our second Chindit campaign in 1944. It also set the pattern for all future campaigns in that theatre of war.
Before General Wingate left for Quebec and the Allied Conference held there, he told me that the air rescue carried out by 31 Squadron was an acorn, and that one day I would see it grow into an oak tree. He kept his word, and from then on air recovery of the sick and wounded took place all over South East Asia.
The inspired attempts of Lummie Lord and his crew and the final magnificent effort of Mike Vlasto and his crew, set the seal on the outstanding performance of 31 Squadron, who throughout our campaign supplied all our needs, even when we were beyond the Irrawaddy and in frightful weather and flying conditions. At times we gave the squadron some frightful dropping areas, varying from mountain tops to deep valleys and river banks, but they always met our requests.
I remember one of my Corporals saying, 'Thank God for the RAF' as a Dakota disappeared towards the west, when another of my lads said, 'Yes, but in a couple of hours those so and so's will be able to have a nice cold shower and a hot meal.' The first man replied, 'They have more than earned it, I only hope that someday I can thank them.'
During the planning stages for the second Chindit expedition, General Wingate looked to employ air supply and casualty recovery to a far greater degree than in 1943. The jungle clearing at Sonpu was chosen as one of the two initial landing areas for his second invasion force in early March 1944 and given the codename 'Piccadilly.'
The other landing zone was situated slightly to the north of Sonpu and was codenamed 'Broadway.' As it turned out, Piccadilly was deemed to be compromised just before the operation began, when surveillance photographs taken by an American reconnaissance aircraft showed the entire jungle clearing to be covered in teak logs. Wingate, concerned that the Japanese had somehow learned of his plans to land half his force at Sonpu, abandoned the idea and sent all his gliders to Broadway.
This then, is the story of the Piccadilly airstrip and its enduring connection with the Chindits of the first Wingate expedition. I would like to dedicate this web page to the memory of Wing Commander Michael Augustus Vlasto DFC and Bar, who sadly passed away in June 1997.
In Caelum Indicum Primus - First In The Indian Skies
Throughtout the campaign RAF supply dropping was nearly perfect and capable of astonishing performances. W/T was as excellent as it was vital. Cyphers were an unqualified success. Deputy A.O.C. wishes to convey his heartiest congratulations to 31 Squadron on their magnificent performance, also to Rear Headquarters and Squadrons and Units of 224 Group who provided Fighter Escorts.
Sadly, Michael Vlasto's mission in FD-871 was not recorded in the Squadron's ORB.
Meanwhile, back at the jungle clearing the remaining Chindits hoped that more planes would be sent to take them all home and divided themselves into groups in anticipation. But it was not to be. After receiving reports from Lieutenant Colonel Cooke and the pilot of the Dakota, the commander of IV Corps, Major-General G. Scoones decided it was too risky to repeat the operation. In his view, Major Scott had been relieved of his wounded and they now possessed enough supplies to last them three weeks. They also had Bernard Fergusson's details of his escape route, so they were in a much better position to walk out. The next day a plane appeared overhead and dropped a message to Major Scott which read:
"After very careful consideration I have reluctantly decided not to allow the pilot to take the risk of attempting to land his plane again. Apart from the actual landing risks there is considerable danger of interference from Japanese land and air forces. This must, I realise, be a very great disappointment to you and all your men. We will do all in our power to help you, and patrols are now operating east of the Chindwin to meet you. I have no doubt at all that you will be able to reach the Chindwin safely by one of the two routes given you by Fergusson. I have just heard that Wingate crossed the Chindwin today. Hope to see you soon."
Signed G. Scoones, Major General, Corps HQ, 29th April 1943.
Before the plane departed it parachuted more supplies to the men, including a large bundle of new boots. The column, now down to 159 disappointed men shouldered their heavy packs and reluctantly continued their westward journey. General Scoones had been correct in his caution when considering any further rescue missions, as unbeknown to 8 Column, the jungle clearing at Sonpu was just 14 miles from the nearest Japanese airfield and enemy planes had indeed scrambled on the 28th April to investigate the RAF activity in the area that day.
Many years after the war, 8 Column Commander, Major Walter Purcell Scott recalled the 'Piccadilly' incident at a reunion with the RAF personnel of 31 Squadron. From the book, First in the Indian Skies:
'Plane Land Here Now' was the request that 31 Squadron so nobly answered. This air rescue undoubtedly pioneered the air evacuation of the wounded and sick from deep inside Burma during our second Chindit campaign in 1944. It also set the pattern for all future campaigns in that theatre of war.
Before General Wingate left for Quebec and the Allied Conference held there, he told me that the air rescue carried out by 31 Squadron was an acorn, and that one day I would see it grow into an oak tree. He kept his word, and from then on air recovery of the sick and wounded took place all over South East Asia.
The inspired attempts of Lummie Lord and his crew and the final magnificent effort of Mike Vlasto and his crew, set the seal on the outstanding performance of 31 Squadron, who throughout our campaign supplied all our needs, even when we were beyond the Irrawaddy and in frightful weather and flying conditions. At times we gave the squadron some frightful dropping areas, varying from mountain tops to deep valleys and river banks, but they always met our requests.
I remember one of my Corporals saying, 'Thank God for the RAF' as a Dakota disappeared towards the west, when another of my lads said, 'Yes, but in a couple of hours those so and so's will be able to have a nice cold shower and a hot meal.' The first man replied, 'They have more than earned it, I only hope that someday I can thank them.'
During the planning stages for the second Chindit expedition, General Wingate looked to employ air supply and casualty recovery to a far greater degree than in 1943. The jungle clearing at Sonpu was chosen as one of the two initial landing areas for his second invasion force in early March 1944 and given the codename 'Piccadilly.'
The other landing zone was situated slightly to the north of Sonpu and was codenamed 'Broadway.' As it turned out, Piccadilly was deemed to be compromised just before the operation began, when surveillance photographs taken by an American reconnaissance aircraft showed the entire jungle clearing to be covered in teak logs. Wingate, concerned that the Japanese had somehow learned of his plans to land half his force at Sonpu, abandoned the idea and sent all his gliders to Broadway.
This then, is the story of the Piccadilly airstrip and its enduring connection with the Chindits of the first Wingate expedition. I would like to dedicate this web page to the memory of Wing Commander Michael Augustus Vlasto DFC and Bar, who sadly passed away in June 1997.
In Caelum Indicum Primus - First In The Indian Skies
Jack Wilson.
Update 18/04/2017.
Jack Wilson
From the pages of the Lancashire Daily Post dated 26th July 1943:
With the Chindits
In a newspaper picture of three rough unkempt men, Mrs. S. Wilson of 26 Victoria Road, Walton-le-Dale, recognised her son, Pte. John Wilson, the King's Regiment and India Command, the first tangible proof that he had been a member of Brigadier Wingate's circus, who fought in the Burmese jungle.
From the photograph and story of an American correspondent, it appears that Wilson was among some sick and wounded Chindits who were flown back to India. By another coincidence Mrs. Wilson, about the same time, received an airgraph from her son, dated June 20th 1943, saying that he was on leave in Bombay and adding:"I have been travelling a long time to get here."
Pte. Wilson has been in the Army three years and was previously in the Lancashire Fusiliers. Before the war he was employed by Messrs. T. Croft and Sons, a builder and constructors firm from Preston. His brother, William Wilson is currently serving in the Royal Artillery.
Jack Wilson
From the pages of the Lancashire Daily Post dated 26th July 1943:
With the Chindits
In a newspaper picture of three rough unkempt men, Mrs. S. Wilson of 26 Victoria Road, Walton-le-Dale, recognised her son, Pte. John Wilson, the King's Regiment and India Command, the first tangible proof that he had been a member of Brigadier Wingate's circus, who fought in the Burmese jungle.
From the photograph and story of an American correspondent, it appears that Wilson was among some sick and wounded Chindits who were flown back to India. By another coincidence Mrs. Wilson, about the same time, received an airgraph from her son, dated June 20th 1943, saying that he was on leave in Bombay and adding:"I have been travelling a long time to get here."
Pte. Wilson has been in the Army three years and was previously in the Lancashire Fusiliers. Before the war he was employed by Messrs. T. Croft and Sons, a builder and constructors firm from Preston. His brother, William Wilson is currently serving in the Royal Artillery.
Update 19/08/2017.
As mentioned earlier in this narrative, the Dakota rescue at Sonpu was covered extensively by the press, both locally and internationally and the incident became world news within a few short days. Seen below is one of the many photographs that helped illustrate the press coverage of the Piccadilly incident alongside the following explanation found on the reverse of the image:
A Burma Rescue: How the RAF went to the aid of one of Wingate's raiding columns in April 1943.
This picture adds another chapter to the story of Brigadier Orde Charles Wingate and his jungle penetration force in Burma of which he was leader. One of his columns had penetrated to a depth of 170 miles behind the Japanese lines in Northern Burma. Then back to a RAF Transport Office in Assam, came a wireless S.O.S. that seventeen of the British raiders in the column were sick or wounded. The column was also short of food, ammunition and other supplies.
Two aircraft set off to the rescue on Easter Sunday 1943. The column was located and supplies were dropped by parachute, but the first attempt to land was unsuccessful. The jungle column then set to work to extend and lay out a landing strip. A few days later a signal came back that the landing strip had been completed. One of the transport planes set off and landed successfully, bringing the seventeen wounded and sick men back to safety.
On both trips a photographer flew with one of the planes to bring these pictures of the adventure. This was the most unusual drop the Squadron had yet made to the Chindits. Here you can see the sick and wounded men waiting to board the aircraft and to the left the ground signal made by the men, which read Plane Land Here Now.
As mentioned earlier in this narrative, the Dakota rescue at Sonpu was covered extensively by the press, both locally and internationally and the incident became world news within a few short days. Seen below is one of the many photographs that helped illustrate the press coverage of the Piccadilly incident alongside the following explanation found on the reverse of the image:
A Burma Rescue: How the RAF went to the aid of one of Wingate's raiding columns in April 1943.
This picture adds another chapter to the story of Brigadier Orde Charles Wingate and his jungle penetration force in Burma of which he was leader. One of his columns had penetrated to a depth of 170 miles behind the Japanese lines in Northern Burma. Then back to a RAF Transport Office in Assam, came a wireless S.O.S. that seventeen of the British raiders in the column were sick or wounded. The column was also short of food, ammunition and other supplies.
Two aircraft set off to the rescue on Easter Sunday 1943. The column was located and supplies were dropped by parachute, but the first attempt to land was unsuccessful. The jungle column then set to work to extend and lay out a landing strip. A few days later a signal came back that the landing strip had been completed. One of the transport planes set off and landed successfully, bringing the seventeen wounded and sick men back to safety.
On both trips a photographer flew with one of the planes to bring these pictures of the adventure. This was the most unusual drop the Squadron had yet made to the Chindits. Here you can see the sick and wounded men waiting to board the aircraft and to the left the ground signal made by the men, which read Plane Land Here Now.
Wounded and sick Chindits prepare to board the Dakota at Sonpu clearing.
Update 10/02/2018.
As mentioned previously, during the planning stages for the second Chindit expedition, General Wingate looked to employ air supply and casualty recovery to a far greater degree than in 1943. The jungle clearing at Sonpu was chosen as one of the two initial landing areas for his second invasion force in early March 1944 and given the codename 'Piccadilly.'
The other landing zone was situated slightly to the north of Sonpu and was codenamed 'Broadway.' As it turned out, Piccadilly was deemed to be compromised just before the operation began, when surveillance photographs taken by an American reconnaissance aircraft showed the entire jungle clearing to be covered in teak logs. Wingate, concerned that the Japanese had somehow learned of his plans to land half his force at Sonpu, abandoned the idea and sent all his gliders into Broadway.
Seen below, is the actual aerial photograph showing Piccadilly covered in teak logs. The image was taken by Captain Charles Russhon of 1st Air Commando. He recalled:
We flew over Broadway first, arriving there at about one o'clock. Everything looked normal and just as I had photographed a few weeks before. We flew around it and I made dozens of stills, then we headed for Piccadilly. There the first glimpse was a great surprise, the jungle clearing showed numerous lines across it in parallel streaks. These grew more vivid as we approached. It was a crazy puzzle and there had been nothing like this when I had flown over just a few weeks before. Then flying lower over the clearing it became obvious that there were lines of teak logs lying in rows across the whole area. Any aircraft trying to land among them would have been smashed.
Please click on either image to bring it forward on the page.
As mentioned previously, during the planning stages for the second Chindit expedition, General Wingate looked to employ air supply and casualty recovery to a far greater degree than in 1943. The jungle clearing at Sonpu was chosen as one of the two initial landing areas for his second invasion force in early March 1944 and given the codename 'Piccadilly.'
The other landing zone was situated slightly to the north of Sonpu and was codenamed 'Broadway.' As it turned out, Piccadilly was deemed to be compromised just before the operation began, when surveillance photographs taken by an American reconnaissance aircraft showed the entire jungle clearing to be covered in teak logs. Wingate, concerned that the Japanese had somehow learned of his plans to land half his force at Sonpu, abandoned the idea and sent all his gliders into Broadway.
Seen below, is the actual aerial photograph showing Piccadilly covered in teak logs. The image was taken by Captain Charles Russhon of 1st Air Commando. He recalled:
We flew over Broadway first, arriving there at about one o'clock. Everything looked normal and just as I had photographed a few weeks before. We flew around it and I made dozens of stills, then we headed for Piccadilly. There the first glimpse was a great surprise, the jungle clearing showed numerous lines across it in parallel streaks. These grew more vivid as we approached. It was a crazy puzzle and there had been nothing like this when I had flown over just a few weeks before. Then flying lower over the clearing it became obvious that there were lines of teak logs lying in rows across the whole area. Any aircraft trying to land among them would have been smashed.
Please click on either image to bring it forward on the page.
Update 06/09/2020.
William James Halliday
In the lead up to the VJ Day 75 commemorations in August 2020, I received email contacts from many new Chindit related families. One such email was from Jack Hays, the son-in-law of Pte. 3780688 William James Halliday formerly of the 13th Battalion the King's Regiment and a survivor from the first Wingate expedition in 1943:
Hi Steve, we recently unearthed some photographs of my father-in-law during the war and it looks like he was present when the eighteen men were picked up in the Dakota rescue plane. We would very much like to know more about his time in Burma which he never spoke about. I also have some information from his Army Soldier's Release Book with his service number and so on. William was born on the 11th January 1913 in Bermondsey, London and was one of seven children to his parents, John and Edith Halliday.
William worked before the war at Horniman's tea factory as a blender which is where he met his future wife, Emily Farmiloe. They married on the 25th May 1940 and had four children, Terence, Sidney, Michael and Sharon (who is my wife) and lived in Islington, north London. He enlisted into the Army on the 24th July 1940. He did tell me that he swam the Chindwin River twice, even though he had never really learned to swim as a child. He said that the second time on the way back to India he was being chased by the Japanese. After returning to India he was sent across to Goa to recuperate from the expedition and to treat his malaria, from which he suffered all his life. He never mentioned any fighting or engagements, only the light heated situations. He did have a very high regard for the Gurkhas and said they had taught the British soldiers how to survive in the jungle and believed he owed his life to them for this.
After the war he worked as a conductor on the buses and later became a bus driver. In 1952 he went to work for the Royal Mail at the main sorting office at Mount Pleasant. He was quickly promoted to PHG, Postman of Higher Grade and remained working there until he retired in January 1978.
Thank you for the details you have sent, my wife and I have been engrossed in the story as it has unfolded. I can tell you that William sadly passed away in October 1996 whilst still living in Islington.
Regards from Sharon and Jack.
The photograph the family sent me was an original copy of one the images used in the Illustrated magazine published on the 10th July 1943 and can be seen below. William Halliday was the man wearing the white woollen hat in the image of the men of 8 Column waving farewell to their comrades in rescue plane at Sonpu, which became known as the silent cheer photograph after the war.
William James Halliday
In the lead up to the VJ Day 75 commemorations in August 2020, I received email contacts from many new Chindit related families. One such email was from Jack Hays, the son-in-law of Pte. 3780688 William James Halliday formerly of the 13th Battalion the King's Regiment and a survivor from the first Wingate expedition in 1943:
Hi Steve, we recently unearthed some photographs of my father-in-law during the war and it looks like he was present when the eighteen men were picked up in the Dakota rescue plane. We would very much like to know more about his time in Burma which he never spoke about. I also have some information from his Army Soldier's Release Book with his service number and so on. William was born on the 11th January 1913 in Bermondsey, London and was one of seven children to his parents, John and Edith Halliday.
William worked before the war at Horniman's tea factory as a blender which is where he met his future wife, Emily Farmiloe. They married on the 25th May 1940 and had four children, Terence, Sidney, Michael and Sharon (who is my wife) and lived in Islington, north London. He enlisted into the Army on the 24th July 1940. He did tell me that he swam the Chindwin River twice, even though he had never really learned to swim as a child. He said that the second time on the way back to India he was being chased by the Japanese. After returning to India he was sent across to Goa to recuperate from the expedition and to treat his malaria, from which he suffered all his life. He never mentioned any fighting or engagements, only the light heated situations. He did have a very high regard for the Gurkhas and said they had taught the British soldiers how to survive in the jungle and believed he owed his life to them for this.
After the war he worked as a conductor on the buses and later became a bus driver. In 1952 he went to work for the Royal Mail at the main sorting office at Mount Pleasant. He was quickly promoted to PHG, Postman of Higher Grade and remained working there until he retired in January 1978.
Thank you for the details you have sent, my wife and I have been engrossed in the story as it has unfolded. I can tell you that William sadly passed away in October 1996 whilst still living in Islington.
Regards from Sharon and Jack.
The photograph the family sent me was an original copy of one the images used in the Illustrated magazine published on the 10th July 1943 and can be seen below. William Halliday was the man wearing the white woollen hat in the image of the men of 8 Column waving farewell to their comrades in rescue plane at Sonpu, which became known as the silent cheer photograph after the war.
The family photograph of William Halliday seen in the white woollen hat at Sonpu.
After recuperating from his exertions on Operation Longcloth it seems likely that William Halliday remained with the 13th King's for a period of time at the Napier Barracks in Karachi. He then transferred to the Border Regiment whilst still in India and served with this unit until his repatriation to the United Kingdom. He left the Army as part of the 18th Infantry Holding Battalion located at Furness Abbey in Cumbria on the 24th January 1946. On his release certificate William's military conduct was recorded as exemplary. His testimonial reads:
Pte. Halliday joined the Army on the 26th July 1940. He has served in India and Burma and took part in the first Wingate expedition in Burma. He is a good soldier always cheerful and willing to do his share of work under any conditions. He is sober, honest and will give of his best at all times.
Seen below is a gallery of images in relation to William's story, including an image of his release certificate. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page. I would like to thank Sharon and Jack Hays for the photographs and information they have sent me and for allowing these to be used on these website pages.
John Yates (left) enjoys a cigarette with Jim Suddery.
Update 10/10/2020.
John Yates
As a direct result of the VJ Day 75 commemorations being televised, I received no fewer than three family enquiries in relation to Pte. John Yates and his experiences with the Chindits in Burma.
The first email to arrive came from granddaughter Joanne Knaggs:
Hi, I’m really interested in the photo of John Yates, the soldier with the wounded hand on your website. He is my grandad and my mum is going to be delighted I’ve finally found this picture which we have been searching for over many years. Sadly my grandad passed away in 1994, but he had a great life. I have taken a screenshot of the photo to have printed out for my mum so I can give it to her on VJ Day this Saturday. I still can’t believe it, we would love to see more pictures and learn more details of what John did, I can’t thank you enough for your efforts and for the power of internet.
The second email contact came in shortly afterwards from Joanne's sister Karen Campbell:
I would appreciate further information on my grandad, Pte. 3781736 John Yates of No. 8 Column. My mother has always spoken about grandad being rescued and featuring on the front cover of the John Bull magazine in his Chindit hat. We do have pictures of him on the Piccadilly Dakota where he looks very thin and weak. Please could you give me any other information you have regarding John, as we want to surprise mum on VJ Day this Saturday, after years of looking for something to show her. Many thanks and kind regards.
A few weeks later, I received the third contact email, this time from Sarah Colman:
Hello, I'm hoping to find some information and potentially a photograph of John Yates whose army number was 3781736. He served during WW2 with the 13th Battalion of the King's Liverpool Regiment. He was my grandfather and my brother and I have recently found out a few things about him, so I was very happy to come across your website which has solidified some of the stories we knew.
I am hoping to gain more knowledge about John as it would really help us piece things together. What I do know is that his hand wound was caused by him moving another solider out of the line of fire, which resulted in the bullet going through both John's hand and then his shoulder. If you do have any more information or photos, it would be greatly appreciated if you could share these with us. Thank you and I look forward to hearing from you.
Obviously, I was happy to supply the families with all the information and photographs I possessed in relation to Pte. John Yates and look forward to learning more about his life after the war and perhaps adding a more recent photograph of him to this update for the Piccadilly Incident story.
John Yates
As a direct result of the VJ Day 75 commemorations being televised, I received no fewer than three family enquiries in relation to Pte. John Yates and his experiences with the Chindits in Burma.
The first email to arrive came from granddaughter Joanne Knaggs:
Hi, I’m really interested in the photo of John Yates, the soldier with the wounded hand on your website. He is my grandad and my mum is going to be delighted I’ve finally found this picture which we have been searching for over many years. Sadly my grandad passed away in 1994, but he had a great life. I have taken a screenshot of the photo to have printed out for my mum so I can give it to her on VJ Day this Saturday. I still can’t believe it, we would love to see more pictures and learn more details of what John did, I can’t thank you enough for your efforts and for the power of internet.
The second email contact came in shortly afterwards from Joanne's sister Karen Campbell:
I would appreciate further information on my grandad, Pte. 3781736 John Yates of No. 8 Column. My mother has always spoken about grandad being rescued and featuring on the front cover of the John Bull magazine in his Chindit hat. We do have pictures of him on the Piccadilly Dakota where he looks very thin and weak. Please could you give me any other information you have regarding John, as we want to surprise mum on VJ Day this Saturday, after years of looking for something to show her. Many thanks and kind regards.
A few weeks later, I received the third contact email, this time from Sarah Colman:
Hello, I'm hoping to find some information and potentially a photograph of John Yates whose army number was 3781736. He served during WW2 with the 13th Battalion of the King's Liverpool Regiment. He was my grandfather and my brother and I have recently found out a few things about him, so I was very happy to come across your website which has solidified some of the stories we knew.
I am hoping to gain more knowledge about John as it would really help us piece things together. What I do know is that his hand wound was caused by him moving another solider out of the line of fire, which resulted in the bullet going through both John's hand and then his shoulder. If you do have any more information or photos, it would be greatly appreciated if you could share these with us. Thank you and I look forward to hearing from you.
Obviously, I was happy to supply the families with all the information and photographs I possessed in relation to Pte. John Yates and look forward to learning more about his life after the war and perhaps adding a more recent photograph of him to this update for the Piccadilly Incident story.
John Yates (far left) and some of the other men aboard the rescue Dakota on the way back to India.
Update 25/02/2021.
Jimmy Walker
Back in August last year (2020), I was pleased to receive the following email contact from Tom Hawkes, grandson of Corporal Jimmy Walker:
Hi Steve,
Thank you so much for all the detail in these website pages. My Grandad was Cpl. Jimmy Walker who is mentioned a few times on your site and it has been so amazing to learn about his time in Burma. I'm told he wrote down a lot of his experiences during the war in letters, which I have somewhere at home. I plan to type these up into digital form and will forward them on to you when I have completed the project. It was great to see that the family of John Yates have also made contact with you after watching the VJ Day 75 commemorations.
Kind Regards, Tom.
I replied:
Dear Tom,
Thank you for your email contact via my website. It is wonderful to hear from you as you are the second family member to contact me this week in reference to the men rescued by the Dakota plane on the 28th April 1943, the other being the family of John Yates. All the information I have about Jimmy is more or less on the website, but I do have some more images from the rescue plane to send to you.
I would obviously like to include some more information about your grandfather on the Piccadilly Incident page of my website. I would like very much to have the transcripts of his WW2 letters whenever you are ready, but wondered in meantime if you could give me a short bio of his life, before and after WW2. Also, if you have a photograph of him in later life that you are willing to share for the website, that would be fantastic.
I look forward to hearing from you again. Best wishes, Steve.
Seen below is a gallery of images featuring Corporal Jimmy Walker, including some rare photographs of him and the other men from the 13th King's disembarking the Dakota rescue plane on landing back in India. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
Jimmy Walker
Back in August last year (2020), I was pleased to receive the following email contact from Tom Hawkes, grandson of Corporal Jimmy Walker:
Hi Steve,
Thank you so much for all the detail in these website pages. My Grandad was Cpl. Jimmy Walker who is mentioned a few times on your site and it has been so amazing to learn about his time in Burma. I'm told he wrote down a lot of his experiences during the war in letters, which I have somewhere at home. I plan to type these up into digital form and will forward them on to you when I have completed the project. It was great to see that the family of John Yates have also made contact with you after watching the VJ Day 75 commemorations.
Kind Regards, Tom.
I replied:
Dear Tom,
Thank you for your email contact via my website. It is wonderful to hear from you as you are the second family member to contact me this week in reference to the men rescued by the Dakota plane on the 28th April 1943, the other being the family of John Yates. All the information I have about Jimmy is more or less on the website, but I do have some more images from the rescue plane to send to you.
I would obviously like to include some more information about your grandfather on the Piccadilly Incident page of my website. I would like very much to have the transcripts of his WW2 letters whenever you are ready, but wondered in meantime if you could give me a short bio of his life, before and after WW2. Also, if you have a photograph of him in later life that you are willing to share for the website, that would be fantastic.
I look forward to hearing from you again. Best wishes, Steve.
Seen below is a gallery of images featuring Corporal Jimmy Walker, including some rare photographs of him and the other men from the 13th King's disembarking the Dakota rescue plane on landing back in India. Please click on any image to bring it forward on the page.
Update 06/03/2022.
In early February 2022, I was delighted to receive the following email from Mike Allon:
Hi Steve, I’m chasing an article and images in relation to the rescue of 18 Chindit soldiers on Operation Longcloth. Charles May a RAF Sergeant was involved in the rescue and I would love to present his son the actual newspaper where the article first appeared on the 10th July 1943.
Mike was of course referring to the Dakota rescue on the 28th April 1943, when 18 members from the dispersal party led by Major Walter Purcell Scott were flown back to India after being air-lifted from a large meadow located close to the Burmese village of Sonpu. I was able to draw Mike's attention to the above page on my website and he later passed on this information to the son of Charles May. Charles May is photographed (left) checking the horizon for enemy aircraft on the 28th April 1943, just before the Dakota landed and picked up the sick and wounded Chindits.
Mike subsequently replied:
Dear Steve, I can’t begin to tell you how much your email and knowledge of that point in history has meant, thank you so much. Personally, I never knew much about this campaign, but my love of military history is strong, sparked by the fact that my father was a Lancaster bomber engineer in WW2 and my grandfather was a Sergeant in the First World War. As you can imagine I’m very proud of both. What you do in recording these events in Burma is truly amazing.
Thank you once again for everything you do on behalf of those who are no longer with us, it is a great service you offer keeping the memory alive of all those who served so valiantly. I have forwarded your email to my friend, Michael who was quiet emotional when I shared your previous communication with him.
Later, Mike was able to tell me that Charles May was born in Leeds in 1922 and after leaving school had trained as a mechanic. In 1938 he joined the RAF as a mechanic and then trained as a Navigator and gained the rank of Sergeant. Charles later travelled to Burma in 1939 and was involved in flying supplies to many war-torn areas in that theatre, which ultimately resulted in his participation with the Chindit rescue during the first Wingate expedition.
On returning to the United Kingdom after the war, Charles married Hilda Livingstone, who had been widowed when her first husband was killed in action. Charles adopted Hilda's baby daughter (Betty) and the couple went on to have a son of their own named Michael. Charles served with the Fire Brigade for over six years, before becoming a lorry driver, an occupation he kept with until his retirement. During the years of the Cold War, Charles was a member and volunteer within the Mobile Defence organisational scheme. He was also for a period, Chairman of the Shard End (Birmingham) branch of the Royal British Legion. Charles May sadly passed away in 1986.
I would like to thank Mike Allon for his initial contact and for bringing this wonderful update to the story of the Dakota rescue from the perspective of the RAF rescuers, rather than from the Chindits who were flown to safety that day in April 1943. My thanks also go to Charles May's son for telling us more about his father. Seen below is a photograph from the inside of Dakota FD-781, showing some of the supplies waiting to be dropped to the Chindits below. It is possible that the man lying on top of some of the parcels is Sergeant Charles May.
In early February 2022, I was delighted to receive the following email from Mike Allon:
Hi Steve, I’m chasing an article and images in relation to the rescue of 18 Chindit soldiers on Operation Longcloth. Charles May a RAF Sergeant was involved in the rescue and I would love to present his son the actual newspaper where the article first appeared on the 10th July 1943.
Mike was of course referring to the Dakota rescue on the 28th April 1943, when 18 members from the dispersal party led by Major Walter Purcell Scott were flown back to India after being air-lifted from a large meadow located close to the Burmese village of Sonpu. I was able to draw Mike's attention to the above page on my website and he later passed on this information to the son of Charles May. Charles May is photographed (left) checking the horizon for enemy aircraft on the 28th April 1943, just before the Dakota landed and picked up the sick and wounded Chindits.
Mike subsequently replied:
Dear Steve, I can’t begin to tell you how much your email and knowledge of that point in history has meant, thank you so much. Personally, I never knew much about this campaign, but my love of military history is strong, sparked by the fact that my father was a Lancaster bomber engineer in WW2 and my grandfather was a Sergeant in the First World War. As you can imagine I’m very proud of both. What you do in recording these events in Burma is truly amazing.
Thank you once again for everything you do on behalf of those who are no longer with us, it is a great service you offer keeping the memory alive of all those who served so valiantly. I have forwarded your email to my friend, Michael who was quiet emotional when I shared your previous communication with him.
Later, Mike was able to tell me that Charles May was born in Leeds in 1922 and after leaving school had trained as a mechanic. In 1938 he joined the RAF as a mechanic and then trained as a Navigator and gained the rank of Sergeant. Charles later travelled to Burma in 1939 and was involved in flying supplies to many war-torn areas in that theatre, which ultimately resulted in his participation with the Chindit rescue during the first Wingate expedition.
On returning to the United Kingdom after the war, Charles married Hilda Livingstone, who had been widowed when her first husband was killed in action. Charles adopted Hilda's baby daughter (Betty) and the couple went on to have a son of their own named Michael. Charles served with the Fire Brigade for over six years, before becoming a lorry driver, an occupation he kept with until his retirement. During the years of the Cold War, Charles was a member and volunteer within the Mobile Defence organisational scheme. He was also for a period, Chairman of the Shard End (Birmingham) branch of the Royal British Legion. Charles May sadly passed away in 1986.
I would like to thank Mike Allon for his initial contact and for bringing this wonderful update to the story of the Dakota rescue from the perspective of the RAF rescuers, rather than from the Chindits who were flown to safety that day in April 1943. My thanks also go to Charles May's son for telling us more about his father. Seen below is a photograph from the inside of Dakota FD-781, showing some of the supplies waiting to be dropped to the Chindits below. It is possible that the man lying on top of some of the parcels is Sergeant Charles May.
Copyright © Steve Fogden, December 2015.