WWII’s forgotten army: The East and West African soldiers who fought in Burma

In the spring of 2007, while studying history at Queen Mary University of London, I had one of those moments that stops you in your tracks. I was in the bowels of the university’s library, reading about the Second World War’s Burma campaign, when I came across an almost casual reference to the fact that tens of thousands of soldiers from Africa had fought there beside the British.

I’ll say it again: tens of thousands. Really? How did I not know this? Did anyone know this? At the time, I was relatively familiar with the Burma campaign. Seven years previously, my grandmother had travelled to what was now Myanmar – no mean feat, I must say – to visit the grave of her father, Arthur Woollett, who was killed there during a Japanese ambush. I loved hearing her stories of his bravery, and my curiosity had continued into early adulthood.

So, there I was, desperately hoping that a library book on the Burma campaign would gift me a dissertation topic. And then – whoosh – it suddenly jumped out. That discovery led to a year-and-a-half’s worth of research and, ultimately, the below dissertation. While it’s fairly long – certainly for a blog post – it in no way does justice to the achievements, and human experiences, of the remarkable men of the Royal West African Frontier Force and the 11th East African Division. Nor does it go far in addressing the fact that these men have been largely ignored by historians for the best part of 80 years. It does, I hope, at least begin to tell their story.

Few people know that troops from East and West Africa fought with the Fourteenth Army in Burma during the Second World War. There were 90,000 in total – one sixth of the Army’s strength. If the Fourteenth was the ‘Forgotten Army’, then the three African Divisions were the forgotten Army’s forgotten formations.

The 81st and 82nd West African Divisions, known collectively as the Royal West African Frontier Force (RWAFF), and the 11th East African Division brought their unique skills to the campaign in the Far East. Their hardiness and experience in ‘bush war’ allowed them to adapt to the Burmese terrain – they were able penetrate the deepest jungle, climb the steepest hills and cross rivers half a mile wide.

But how important were they in the overall campaign to liberate Burma from the Japanese? How effective were they in battle? How did they interact with other Commonwealth troops? How were they perceived by their European counterparts? These are questions that historians have not attempted to answer. Indeed, the Africans’ role in the Far East has been chronically under-acknowledged in post-war historiography – despite it being the largest concentration of Britain’s African troops in history.

‘Troops are not known as “troops” or as “soldiers”: they are known as “Africans”’

Winston Churchill wrote ‘I am very anxious that if the West African troops go into action they should make a name for themselves’, [1] in April 1943. This did not happen. Like their East African counterparts, the two West African Divisions have remained all but anonymous in the accounts of the war in Burma – despite their successes.

Granted, the African Divisions entered the fray at a relatively late stage, but their entry coincided with the conflict beginning to turn in the Allies’ favour. The battles of Kohima and Imphal had yet to be fought and won – and the Africans troops’ role in helping to turn the tide should not have been underestimated.

Reuben Tackie, editor of The Kintampo Camp Weekly, a newsletter published from an RWAFF base in Ghana, wrote in March 1946:

In the RWAFF, troops are not known as ‘troops’ or as ‘soldiers’: they are known as ‘Africans’. ‘I saw Africans,’ ‘there are too many Africans here,’ are phrases one hears too often even in a force comprising almost entirely of Africans. Is this discrimination necessary? [2]

Senior figures within the Fourteenth Army were guilty of such discrimination. They were prone to exposing patronising, even racist, attitudes towards their African troops. This, coupled with the lack of a strong African voice (most African soldiers were illiterate) has resulted in the African Divisions’ importance being undermined and undervalued in post-war literature.

Where they have been mentioned, usually in the published diaries of British personnel, they have often been represented unfairly. African troops were respected, but descriptions of them were often generalised and stereotypical of the ‘African savage’ – anecdotes which are largely unhelpful when trying to understand the African troops’ effectiveness in battle. 

The concept of a British Imperial African Army

It would not have been immediately obvious to send African soldiers into battle in the Far East. Never before had such a large contingent travelled so far from the African continent. It could not be ascertained how African troops would stand up to the Japanese, either. Neither British nor Indian units had had much success by 1943 – and at that time, the reputation of the Japanese soldier stood at its highest.

The West and East Africans had a decent reputation of their own after victories against native levies in the East African and Abyssinian campaigns, and against Mussolini’s Blackshirts. The Japanese, however, were to prove an altogether tougher enemy. They were more skilful, more ruthless and better armed. Experience alone was no great indicator of how African troops would stand up to such an enemy, especially in the unforgiving Far Eastern climate.

Askaris of the 11th East African Division learning how to use a 40mm Bofors anti-aircraft gun in Ceylon. Credit: Imperial War Museum

Despite the risks, the decision was taken to send the first brigade of East African troops to Ceylon early in 1942 – although it did not prove possible to use them in action for a long while. West African troops were initially unavailable – they were tied-up in their colonies, protecting them from attack through Vichy West Africa.

The concept of a British Imperial African Army is something that many are not familiar with. Its foundations date back to 1916, when the Colonial Office found itself pressed by a lobby in Parliament demanding the creation of a large Black army.

‘The War Office thought it undesirable to put coloured people on a par with white men’

The idea had been promoted since 1914, mainly by men with imperial backgrounds. From July 1917, the lobby was led by Josiah Wedgwood, a man who had just returned from active service in East Africa. He argued that colonial governments should abandon their ‘benevolent neutrality’ and raise troops for the fighting line ‘to replace white troops when the scarcity of these gets more pronounced’. [3] While the Colonial Office remained sceptical, Wedgwood claimed that the War Office too was hostile to the idea of a large African Army:

Churchill backed up my efforts to get coloured peoples recruited for the Army… as concerns the coloured army he was no doubt anxious for men, I for raising the status of the coloured races; and we failed because the War Office thought it undesirable to put coloured people on a par with white men. It might put ideas into their heads. [4]

Wedgwood’s intention of ‘raising the status of the coloured races’ was not entirely honourable. He made no secret of his belief that an African army was necessary ‘because we do not want all the whites killed – to put it bluntly. To slow down the rate of killing of our own men and to eke out the finest race on earth.’ [5]

Resisting the idea of using Black troops outside Africa

The Colonial Office resisted the idea of using Black troops outside Africa. They had several reasons: African soldiers had lower levels of training, they could not survive in temperate climates, and they were considered generally unreliable. It was also agreed that African troops were mercenaries who fought for money and therefore had to be used carefully.

Despite their assertions, the Colonial Office allowed the use of West African troops in the East African campaign in mid-1916 – but said that it was a ‘complete delusion’ to suppose that a large-scale recruitment could take place. [6]

By the end of 1917, the Colonial Office was forced to concede that African troops may be employed outside Africa. The First World War was lasting longer than expected, and there was a very real manpower crisis. The Army Council doubted the value of the East Africans, but the West African troops were to be kept intact. They had proved themselves in two campaigns outside their home colonies, and were therefore considered a suitable reserve for any emergency that may arise in the Empire.

In July 1918, the War Office talked of sending a West African Service Brigade to India, but its eventual destination was fixed on Palestine. However, a lack of shipping and the eventual end of the war meant that the West Africans stayed where they were.

Would a Black army threaten European colonial supremacy?

There were two groups of opponents against the formation of a large Black army for use outside of Africa: the humanitarians, and those who feared the legacy of armed and disciplined African soldiers. [7] Would European colonial supremacy be threatened by the creation of such an army? A Colonial Office official said on record in 1915:

It must not be forgotten that a West African native trained to use of arms and filled with a new degree of self-confidence by successful encounters with forces armed and led by Europeans was not likely to be more amenable to discipline in peace time. [8]

Interestingly, a large degree of support came from the West African elite, who were generally supportive of the British war effort. They hoped that African loyalty would be rewarded with post-war constitutional reforms – a theme that would ring true in future conflicts. 

The Empire’s African Troops 1917–1942

Although their operations were limited, the African troops who fought in the First World War proved that they were loyal to the Empire. Furthermore, their successfully fought campaigns highlighted their potential value as a force outside Africa.

The West African troops that took part in the war were units from the West African Frontier Force (WAFF). They played a vital part in driving out the German forces from the African continent; their success culminating at the battle of Mahiwa/Nyangao in October 1917.

A Nigerian member of the West African Frontier Force. Credit: The National Archives

The African colonies had produced 57,000 soldiers and an astonishing 932,000 porters and labourers, most for service in the German East African campaign. [9] There could have been a higher proportion of Black soldiers, but the Colonial Office was nervous about Black men fighting white, and senior officers wrongly believed that the African lacked the steadiness and fortitude of the European. [10]

The war had also revealed the underlying racial prejudice that existed in the British Empire. Lord Lugard, who raised the first units of the WAFF in 1897, was appalled by the idea of his wife being treated by a Black doctor – despite his close working relationships with a number of African personnel. [11]

What motivated African soldiers to fight in the First World War?

Historians have struggled to understand what motivated the Africans to fight in the First World War, because they rarely recorded any of their experiences. Many focussed on the possibility that the Germans would come in and take their land. A Nigerian porter who served in the 1916-18 Cameroons campaign was told ‘that we were going to the great war to help keep the King’s soldiers who were preventing the Germans coming to our country and burning it’. [12]

Between the wars, the WAFF led a relatively peaceful life – but in May 1919, Brigadier General Kirke, Deputy Director of Military Operations, proposed that the War Office take over the WAFF and their East African counterparts, the King’s African Rifles (KAR) from the Colonial Office.

Churchill had become Secretary of War and Air in November 1919, and he pressed his own ideas on the Chief of the Imperial General Staff. In January 1920, he wrote ‘I am strongly in favour of our beginning to employ African troops from West and East Africa, as well as from the Sudan, for imperial purposes outside the African continent.’ [13]

‘In ten years we should need a force of 500,000 African troops’

The view of the colonial authorities was not favourable towards Kirke or Churchill’s proposals, and they made their feelings known at a conference in the Colonial Office in April 1920. The two East African governors, Northey and Coryndon, met Kirke and other War Office representatives. Kirke stressed his belief that African troops should take a more important role in the defence of Britain’s Empire: ‘It must be expected in a few years that Indian troops would no longer be available for service outside India. It was necessary, therefore, to contemplate that in, say, ten years we should need a force of, say, 500,000 African troops available for service outside Africa.’

He was partly accurate; in a little over twenty years, the Empire would require a substantial number of African troops to fight a war in the Far East – an area that had traditionally fallen under the stewardship of the Indian Army.

Circumstances dictated that the African colonial forces (ACF) be reduced in size during the 1920s and 1930s. There was talk of sending East and West African troops to quell the revolt in Mesopotamia, but it had been largely subdued by the Royal Air Force by the end of 1921. The rise of Italian fascism, however, created new fears regarding African security.

Italian fascist Rodolfo Graziani – Governor of Italian Somaliland – in Mogadishu. Credit: MagentaGreen

In May 1936, the War Office proposed to the Committee of Imperial Defence a drastic reorganisation of the ACF. They would be restored to their pre-1930 strength, and there would be a move towards a combined defence budget for East and West Africa. It was agreed that, in the face of Italian aggression, the War Office should take emergency control of the ACF. By mid-1938, a West African Expeditionary Force for East Africa had been planned. It consisted of two brigades; one from Nigeria and one from the Gold Coast. [14]

African soldiers’ secret weapon: carriers

It was June 1940 before the West African brigade groups sailed. When Italy entered the war, there were 10,000 troops at sea bound for East Africa. [15] They were to bear the brunt of the fighting, and were destined to acquit themselves well against the Italians. They were unique in the sense that their first line of transport was provided by carriers, who carried stores and parts of weapons on their heads (as opposed to their British Army counterparts, who used the more conventional method of motor transport).

Indeed, it was ‘natural for an African to carry heavy or light loads on his head, with remarkable skill and stamina’. [16] This would stand the West Africans in good stead for the forthcoming conflict in Burma. Brig Swynnerton, of 1 (WA) Brigade, wrote that the West African was ‘the only soldier among all the different nationalities from which the British Army in Burma was drawn, who was capable of operating for months on end in the worst country in the world, without vehicles and without mules and was alone able to carry all his warlike stores with him’. [17]

The Africans’ talent for carrying heavy loads on their head was noticed by members of the RWAFF prior to the outbreak of war in the Far East. It was deemed a peculiarity by some, while others saw it as a skill that could be utilised in jungle warfare. A. A. Mayard, who was posted to West Africa with the RWAFF, said in June 1944:

Africans carry everything ‘for head’, as they say, and today I made a note of all the things I saw being carried: an alarm clock; a flat iron; a furled umbrella pointing fore and aft; a treadle sewing machine; a coffin; a wardrobe; an army Dixie, and on top of that a large bundle of firewood; a wicker basket of six live chickens; innumerable buckets, and 4 gallon tin of water. And most of these things are carried without a steadying hand. I have yet to see anyone drop anything. [18]

The African Troops’ Suitability for the War in Burma

Japan’s entry into the war further stretched British and Indian manpower resources, especially after their army’s successful invasion of Burma had come to an end in May 1942.

When the Vichy threat to West Africa ended in December of the same year, the War Office began to seriously consider using African troops as combatants in Asia. Faced with the prospect of a jungle war, Wavell, the Commander-in-Chief in India, asked about using African units ‘for operations in Burma and eastwards’. [19]

‘They are used to the jungle’

His preference lay with the West Africans: ‘they are used to jungle and moving with porter transport which should be invaluable in certain parts of Burma and Malaya’. [20] Such was the importance of carriers that the emblem of the 82nd West African Division was spears crossed through a carrier’s head-pad, which signified ‘Through carriers we fight’. [21]

Sir Archibald Wavell at his desk. Credit: Imperial War Museum

Wavell did display some naivety. His assertion that West African troops ‘should be able to compete with the Japanese’ [22] turned out to be accurate, but he failed to predict the ruthless extent of the Japanese war machine.

Furthermore, it was not true that all West Africans were used to the jungle and its conditions. Many had a seemingly useful advantage because they were immune to malaria – but it was doubtful whether they would be immune to the forms of the disease prevalent in Burma, India and Ceylon.

Wavell’s opinion was shared by many – Africans were born in the jungle, so would therefore make natural jungle fighters. To a large extent, this was an assumption based on a racial stereotype. In reality, the area covered by the West African colonies was so vast that there was a greater divergence of people than in Europe. [23]

Not appreciating West Africa’s cultural and geographic diversity

A number of different tribes existed within the different colonies, and each had its own language and customs. There were different religions, too – most in the Gambia and Sierra Leone were Muslim (as were those from the northern districts of the Gold Coast and Nigeria), and those living closer to the coast tended to be Christian. There were thousands who were neither; pagans who believed in witchcraft, devils and juju magic.

Whether the different tribes would be able to fight effectively alongside each other was uncertain. The West African landscape, too, was not blanket jungle. There were pockets of tropical rainforest in parts, but many regions were orchard bush – effectively flat grassland with a scattering of trees.

The northern districts of the Gold Coast and Nigeria were desert-like, far from the tropical conditions of the Burmese jungle. Whether the West African had experience of the jungle or not, they were assumed by Wavell and his colleagues to have senses more acute than the European; sharper hearing, quicker eyes and greater far-sightedness – again, characteristics based on a racial stereotype.

What was certain, however, was that many Africans were used to living hard, and could, therefore, rival their Japanese counterparts when life in the jungle inevitably became tough.

The formation of a West African Expeditionary Force

It was agreed at a Chiefs of Staff Committee meeting in December 1942 that West African troops should be available for service outside of Africa by June 1943. The main protagonist was General Sir George Giffard, the General Officer Commanding-in-Chief in West Africa, who suggested that West Africans could be usefully employed in Burma.

General Sir George James Giffard. Credit: Arabella Birdperson

It was decided that the brigade of East African troops in Ceylon would remain there and continue to train – they could not yet be deployed in Burma because the country was in Japanese hands. Its numbers would later increase to that of a division (the 11th East African). For now, they were to remain strictly on the defensive along the Indian frontier.

Two divisions of West African troops were envisaged (the 81st and 82nd), making up a West African Expeditionary Force. The 81st (WA) Division officially came into being on 1st March, 1943, and its Commander was confirmed as Major General C.G. Woolner, a sapper officer who had served in the First World War.

Burma: Where the tide had turned very much in favour of the Japanese

The tide of war began to turn in the Allies’ favour by the end of 1942 after Stalingrad, El Alamein and the North African landings. But Burma was still in Japanese hands. They had seized the country from the Allies swiftly – their army entered the country from Thailand and had quickly captured the capital, Rangoon.

The British and Indian troops responsible for the defence of Burma were inadequately trained and lacking in combat experience. They were hopelessly outnumbered, too, and lacked air superiority. They proved no match for their aggressive and ruthless invaders, and were ordered to retreat under the command of Lieutenant General William Slim – an operation that proved to be the longest withdrawal in the history of the British Army.

After months of stalemate (the conquest of India was not on Japan’s strategic agenda, and the British had to work on the establishment of a base organisation and lines of communications for a large future offensive), Wavell ordered a limited advance into the Arakan in October 1942, Burma’s north-western coastal region.

The main purpose of the operation was psychological; morale had to be raised, and the Japanese needed to be shown that the British were beginning the comeback. [24] Wavell, however, was guilty of underestimating the Japanese Army. The British attack failed – 2,500 Allied troops lost their lives, and confidence plummeted further.

The rebuilding of the Army’s morale was the main concern after Slim was appointed to command the newly formed Fourteenth Army in mid-October 1943. The entire Allied High Command was overhauled; a newly created appointment was filled by Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten, as Supreme Allied Commander South East Asia Command (SEAC). General Sir Claude Auchinleck succeeded Wavell as Commander-in-Chief in India, and the latter was elevated to Viceroy.

The Chindits: showing the potential of guerrilla tactics

While these changes were to prove critical in raising the Army’s morale, a more immediate impact was made by Orde Wingate – a man who had persuaded Wavell (then still C-in-C in India) that Japanese lines of communication would be an ideal target for what he called a ‘long range penetration force’.

Wavell agreed that Wingate’s plans should go ahead, and his ‘Chindits’ left for Burma in February 1943. Despite suffering heavy losses (2,182 soldiers returned after the four-month operation, from a total of 3,000 [25]), the first Chindit expedition showed that British and Indian troops could succeed using guerrilla tactics against the Japanese in the Burmese jungle.

General Orde Wingate (centre) and other Chindit officers at an airfield code-named ‘Broadway’. Credit: Imperial War Museum

Practically, they achieved very little. But, as Slim wrote, ‘there was a dramatic quality about this raid, which, with the undoubted fact that it had penetrated far behind the Japanese lines and returned, lent itself to presentation as a triumph of British jungle fighting over the Japanese’. [26]

Added to this relative success was a developing consensus among the Allied Command; if British and Indian troops could penetrate Japanese-occupied Burmese jungle, then surely ‘jungle-reared’ African troops would fare even better? In time, this proved to be true. With the new structure in place at Allied High Command, it would be possible, for the first time, to send large numbers of African troops to the Far East to join up with the Fourteenth Army.

The West Africans’ Entry into Burma

General Woolner knew that his Division was set for the jungles of Burma, but he did not know precisely where. In the event, his West African troops were destined for northern Arakan (apart from 3 (WA) Brigade) – the scene of defeat in 1943.

Firstly however, the different elements of the Division had to be assembled around Ibadan, southern Nigeria – the scene where troops heading for Burma were trained in jungle warfare.

Captain John Catternach, who served with the 4th Battalion, Nigeria Regiment, wrote of his training in West Africa: ‘Marching in the shocking heat of day and on coming to a lovely cool river where one was unable even to have a cool drink, let alone jump into the cool depth of the running water, was enough to drive a sane man out of his mind.’ [27]

‘The Africans had a completely different, loose-kneed gait’

Marching alongside Africans later proved to be a problem for British soldiers in the Burmese jungle. John Hamilton, a platoon commander who served in 81st (WA) Division’s campaigns, remarked: ‘On the march Europeans could very easily be distinguished from Africans, even at long distances, by their very different style of walking. The Europeans, with the stiff-legged gait learnt on parade grounds, bobbed up and down as they walked, whereas the Africans, used to head loading, had a completely different, loose-kneed gait, even if they were carrying no load, so that their heads stayed almost level as they went along.’ [28]

Learning how to use weapons was an integral part of a West African soldier’s training. Because they were designed to be mobile in the jungle, their artillery was light. Nonetheless, Woolner’s men were well trained. The nature of jungle fighting, however, was difficult to prepare for. With very limited visibility, there would be a significant risk of surprise encounters with the enemy.

This did not appear to worry Private Isaac Fadoyebo, who would serve with 1st Battalion, The Gambia Regiment. On completing his training in Nigeria, he remarked: ‘By the time we [the West Africans] graduated, we all felt that we had acquired and could demonstrate remarkable powers of endurance and toughness.’ [29]

The incident of Adama Moshi

Many of the Africans who volunteered were in their teens and, as a consequence, were frighteningly unfamiliar with the workings of some weapons. John Rayment, who served with ‘Sapper’ Field Company, 81st (WA) Division, wrote during his time training in the Gold Coast: ‘The incident of Adama Moshi, who walked into his superior’s tent with a grenade in each hand, safety pins missing, a huge grin on his face, his mouth filled with sharp pointed teeth, saying ‘Massa, what do I do now, this bomb he smoke?’’ [30]

Formation sign of the 81st (WA) Division

Rayment’s description, although revealing, sheds some light on how a British Captain serving within an African Division viewed his African troops. The ‘sharp teeth’ anecdote is typical of the ‘African savage’ stereotype – an example of exaggeration for literary effect perhaps, but also one that highlights racial prejudice.  

The West Africans’ preparations in Nigeria provided senior British soldiers with opportunities they would not normally have; namely, to train African troops. Sergeant John Moore sailed to Nigeria in 1943, and was attached to 6th Battalion, Nigeria Regiment. His exhaustive diary, War Experiences in Nigeria and Burma, goes some way to exposing British attitudes towards their African colleagues.

‘We had more intelligence than they did’

One passage reads: ‘I got on well with the African troops; they seemed to respect us because we had more intelligence than they did and they were better looked after by the army than in their own villages.’ [31]

Sergeant Moore’s comment is easily confused. He almost certainly refers to the fact that many Africans were illiterate and uneducated, rather than to the extent of their mental ability. Many were desperately poor, too, something that would prove an obstacle during the recruitment process.

Sergeant Moore continued: ‘About once a week we would take a lorry and go to a village in the bush and recruit about twenty men into the army. Most of them had never had clothes before and when they were issued with boots they did not know what was the right or left foot. Being ignorant they often sold their clothes to the local villagers and we often had the trouble of going into the village to get the clothes back.’ [32]

Troops were drawn from all four of Britain’s West African colonies: Gambia, The Gold Coast (now Ghana), Nigeria and Sierra Leone. Illiteracy and the lack of English were not treated as huge problems – most Africans were trained as infantrymen or gunners, and a decent understanding of the English language was not a prerequisite for these roles.

‘Their little knowledge of English was far outweighed by their bushcraft skills’

As John Rayment commented; ‘Their little knowledge of English or European standards of living was far outweighed by their invaluable bushcraft skills. On active service they proved, beyond doubt, their loyalty and devotion to duty, no matter how difficult and dangerous the tasks set them.’ [33] There were, however, occasional hiccups:

Water in those days was carried in four-gallon tins similar to petrol tins of the same capacity. Each tin was marked to show its contents. It never occurred to anyone that one day an African who could not read would handle the tins. Sam Owugu, the cook, was one such African. He dived out into the pouring rain, jumped into one of the lorries and came back with a tin in his hand. He did not even stop to smell the contents of the tin. By this time the frying pan had become red hot. Sam slopped some water, as he thought, into the pan. A huge sheet of flame leapt up and ignited the tin in his hand. In a short time a trail of flaming petrol was running across the waiting room and licking at the walls. [34]

Lessons were learned from these sorts of accidents: ‘The next day, priority number one was to devise a method of marking petrol and water cans, identifiable to the learned and the ignorant by day and by night.’ [35]

Establishing English as the common language

The spoken word also had the potential to cause problems. The common language among the Nigerian and Gold Coast Regiments was Hausa. The ‘Hausamen’ proved popular with British officers; they were cheerful and generally happy to undertake work without complaining. [36] Troops from Sierra Leone and the Gambia used Pidgin English as their medium (there was no prominent tribal language in either country, so the English dialect had developed through the centuries).

To avoid confusion, it was ruled that English would be the common language. Schoolmasters were appointed to help teach it, and many Africans relished the chance to learn a new language. Indeed, many were proud of their linguistic achievements, even if they found English a little frustrating.

A. A. Mayard, based in Nigeria, remarked: ‘The advantage of [teaching the African English] was that those from different tribes, with totally unrelated languages, can communicate. I find it amusing to watch two Africans so engaged, with eloquent arm gestures, and an increasing annoyance as the subject of their conversation becomes obscure.’ [37]

Members of the 6th (West African) Infantry Brigade near Ma Kyaze in January 1945. Credit: Imperial War Museum

West Africans who could already speak English to an acceptable level were usually promoted to the status of Non-commissioned officer (NCO), and some even to Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM). There were, however, no African officers, as Private Isaac Fadoyebo remarked: ‘At that time there were no high ranking African military officials, and even if there were it was doubtful whether they would be permitted to take part in the fun in company of their European counterpart in view of the policy of racial segregation which was on then.’ [38]

‘Everybody should get set for a voyage that would last for six weeks’

Assembling the various elements of the 81st (WA) Division was no small undertaking – a huge number of troops were required, and there were large distances involved. 6 (WA) Brigade were the first to arrive in Ibadan, having travelled by sea from Banjul and Freetown. 5 (WA) Brigade arrived by road from the Gold Coast and 3 (WA) Brigade were brought down from northern Nigeria by the railway.

Many of the West Africans were kept in the dark about their eventual destination, as Fadoyebo wrote: ‘As usual we were not told officially where we were heading for. The only information made available to us was that everybody should get set for a voyage that would last for six weeks. We guessed then that we were meant for the Burma campaign.’ [39] This did not fill every African with excitement, as Fadoyebo later reflected: ‘We were not in a gleeful mood because the consequences were obvious. Some managed to get themselves discharged while others preferred outright desertion.’ [40]

The situation was broadly similar in East Africa. Troops from Kenya, Uganda, Nyasaland, Tanganyika and Rhodesia gathered at Base Details Camp, on the outskirts of Nairobi. This was the hub of East Africa Command’s huge expansion, which was accelerated by the Abyssinian Campaign as well as the formation of the 11th East African Division.

John Nunneley, who served with the King’s African Rifles in Burma after training at Base Details Camp, wrote: ‘Drafts of officers, non-commissioned officers, and men of all arms and services flooded in from Britain and the Rhodesias to train and lead the hundreds of thousands of African tribesmen who had been encouraged or persuaded, even ordered, by their chiefs to volunteer to fight for ‘King Georgie’.’ [41]

How were African soldiers persuaded to go and fight in the Far East?

How the Africans were persuaded to go and fight in the Far East remains somewhat contested. The British authorities openly acknowledged that European soldiers received more pay than their African colleagues, but justified the lower rates for African soldiers as ‘generous and in most cases higher than the average rates of civil pay’ in West Africa. [42]

In the West African Forces, the basic rate of pay for a private was one shilling a day; half of what a British private would earn in the UK. Nonetheless, it was a fairly respectable wage in 1940s Africa – and it would have proved enticing for a number of tribesmen.

The British undertook propaganda missions, circulating venomous passages from Mein Kampf to the African colonies, reminding Black men what Hitler thought of their kind: ‘It is an act of criminal insanity to train a being who is semi-ape till you pretend he has turned into a lawyer.’ This was a deliberate attempt to enrage potential African soldiers who, until now, may not have known about life outside of their continent – so it is unlikely there would have been a previous urge to travel to far-flung destinations.

Novelist Gerald Hanley, who commanded East African askaris in Burma, believed that the impending war had encouraged Africans to examine themselves and the world outside their villages: ‘The African is feeling his feet and is looking round with different eyes.’ [43]

John Hamilton provided one telling explanation: ‘It appears that the great majority of ordinary Africans, whose immediate allegiance was to a local chief, above whom was a greater chief and ultimately the King’s representatives, felt a simple loyalty to King George VI. Most were heirs to a tradition in which men became warriors at need.’ [44]

King George VI in the Netherlands with the British Liberation Army. Credit: Imperial War Museum

Hanley agreed: ‘The feeling for ‘King Georgi’ among the askaris is not just a ‘bwana’s’ sundowner story, but a real thing…they regard him as King of all the British and treat him accordingly.’ [45]

‘A powerful incentive lay in the promise of regular meals’

John Nunneley, based in East Africa, believed the Africans’ motivations lay elsewhere. He wrote: ‘To many from impoverished tribal areas, where all too often only small quantities of milk, blood, and beans were available, a powerful incentive to enlist lay in the promise of regular meals including, especially, a steady supply of meat.’ [46] 

It was different still for the relatively small number of educated Africans. Private Isaac Fadoyebo, who enjoyed the luxury of a grammar school education in Lagos, saw it as a respectable career choice after failing an exam to become a teacher. He remarked in his account of his wartime experiences: ‘As there was no hope of furthering my education and as I had been informed that I was not qualified for a teaching appointment what else could I turn to? I simply saw military service as a good job.’ [47]

‘Here lies a black man, killed fighting a yellow man, for the protection of a white man’

The war in the Far East, Burma specifically, was to prove a racial conflict. This was highlighted by a Black American soldier, shortly before being dispatched to the Far East, who was alleged to have asked for the epitaph: ‘Here lies a black man, killed fighting a yellow man, for the protection of a white man.’ [48] Whether his East and West African colleagues under the command of the British Army realised this peculiarity is uncertain. 

And so began the long journey to Burma. Ken Potter, Commander of the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers (REME) serving in the 11th East African Division, had four weeks to get his men organised. On 14th June 1943, their journey to the Far East began.

A prelude to an impending casualty of the war in the Far East

He remarked in his diary: ‘In convoy we covered some 300 miles of Kenya to Mombassa and embarked on two ships. Our immediate destination was Ceylon. The sole purpose of this exercise was the opportunity for jungle training. Also we had to await a large balance of personnel and equipment from the UK to make up our numbers, to enable us to go to war, this time in Burma.’ [49]

Of the West Africans, 6 Brigade sailed first, departing on 10th July and arriving in Bombay on 14th August. The last of the troops arrived on 7th November. Certain attitudes were exposed en route. When the first convoy stopped at Cape Town, the Europeans were welcome ashore but the Black Africans were not. They were reluctantly allowed to disembark, but were not permitted to take arms with them. A Women’s Voluntary Service lady said to Captain Bull of 1 Sierra Leone Regiment, ‘But you don’t arm these monkeys do you?’ [50]

Indian soldiers mingle with their counterparts from the 81st (WA) Division. Credit: Imperial War Museum

After landing in Bombay, the West Africans travelled by rail to tented camps in Deolali and Nasik – two towns that were nowhere near the jungle. It was in India that the African began to acquire new tastes: ‘If a man learns to smoke, eat tinned food and to read newspapers, he will generally wish to continue satisfying these appetites and he will need to earn money to do so’ [51]; a prelude, perhaps, to an impending casualty of the war in the Far East – traditional African culture.

Designation to the Chindits

3 Brigade were the first among the West Africans to learn of their fate. They were designated to Orde Wingate’s Special Force; the Chindits, who were planning a second sojourn into Japanese-occupied jungle.

By the time Major General Woolner had arrived in India in August, he had been told by Auchinleck, his superior, that the 81st (WA) Division would have ‘an independent role, wide on the flank of the main operations’, [52] and that they would be supplied entirely by air. This, Woolner thought, sounded similar to Wingate’s Chindits, who, in their first expedition, learned how to depend on a jungle drop of supplies.

Wingate needed to recruit specially trained men used to long periods of deprivation and hardship – and Woolner believed his 3 Brigade were ideally suited. He passed on information about the brigade to Wingate, and was then resigned to losing them to the Special Force. The remainder of the Division would concentrate on the Kaladan Valley in the Arakan. Their task was clear – they would advance down the valley, take the town of Kyauktaw, and cut the Kanzauk-Htizwe road, which linked the Kaladan and Mayu rivers and served as the main Japanese supply route between the two valleys. Initially though, the Division had to move to the upper Kaladan from their jungle base in Chiringa.

An emphasis on ingenuity and improvisation

Before that journey could be made, all members of 81st (WA) Division had to improve their physical fitness. John Rayment, who was based in Chiringa with a Sapper Field Company, remarked: ‘Throughout the whole training period, emphasis was placed on ingenuity and improvisation, the ability to live on the country, to manage with the simple things in life that only the jungle can offer. To the ‘bushman’ type African, jungle training came easily, and in fact the Europeans learned a great deal from them.’ [53]

The jungle surrounding the Kaladan Valley and the adjacent Arakan hills were areas where the West African soldier would come into his own. Dr. W. Bullock, a field surgeon based in the Kaladan, summed up the landscape: ‘The Arakan hills are never high, few are over 3,000ft. They are steep, sandy ridges and peaks packed together as tightly as nature could compress them, and divided by narrow steep valleys. Hills and valley alike are covered by dense mixed jungle, mainly bamboo. There are, of course, no roads. For transportation we were limited to what could be carried on the heads of Africans. Each man was able to carry a head load of forty pounds.’ [54]

John Rayment’s field engineers had to head load all of their equipment – although this was out of the question for the Company’s Europeans. They had to be fully equipped and armed should the enemy surface, and they were also responsible for rations. The West African artillery battalions had the toughest task; they had to head load barrels and gun wheels – a task that any European soldier would have deemed all but impossible. 

The assembly of the 81st (WA) Division in Chiringa was not immune from criticism. General Slim, the Commander of the Fourteenth Army, visited the Division in September 1943 – and his reaction on seeing a battalion and a light battery on the move with all their equipment was not favourable.

General Slim’s criticism of ‘unarmed porters’

He was worried about the carriers’ role, referring to them as ‘unarmed porters’ [55]. Furthermore, he was struck by the large numbers of white men in a unit, referring to it as ‘an unnecessarily generous supply’ [56]. Slim believed that the presence of so many white men would stifle African initiative. He also believed, on the other hand, that if the African was left to his own devices, he would be lost.

General Slim (far right) watches Hawker Hurricanes take off from Sadaung. Credit: Imperial War Museum

There was a fine balance to be struck, and according to Slim, the 81st (WA) Division had got it wrong. Unfortunately, he does not write about what experiences he had to come to such a conclusion, but it is nonetheless clear that General Slim did not hold his African troops in the highest regard.

In the final chapter of his account of the war in Burma, Defeat into Victory, he does not mention his 90,000 African troops. This was a glaring omission, but one that must have been carefully considered by the Commander of the Fourteenth Army. Slim was criticised by Churchill for being a ‘sepoy general’ (sepoy was a term used specifically in the British Army to describe a native of India allied to the United Kingdom), and the preference he showed towards Indian and Gurkha troops was never in doubt, probably because of his previous service as a Gurkha officer. Interestingly, Slim had served in the East African Campaign shortly after the outbreak of World War II – although he was in command of a brigade of Indian troops.

The African soldiers who fought in Burma did not have the history and background of the Indian Army, and this may be the main reason why they were not as highly thought of by Slim. Most Indians soldiers were recruited from the Punjab – they had been familiar with European ways of waging war for almost 200 years. Furthermore, they were able to provide highly educated leaders.

This tradition had not existed in Africa – the RWAFF, for example, were a mere forty years old by the outbreak of war. A decent education was not widespread in Britain’s African colonies, and so a higher proportion of Europeans was needed in the African units to lead and guide. In reality, the overall ratio of Europeans to all ranks of Africans was 1:11. In the Indian Divisions, the ratio was 1:15 – the difference, then, is not as large as one would think after hearing Slim’s assertion. [57]

‘Uncle Bill’ went on to become one of the celebrated figures of the Burma Campaign, but his apparent disregard for the talents of the Fourteenth Army’s African soldiers may have influenced people’s perceptions of how well they actually performed – a theme that has rung true in post-war historiography.

Into Battle: the First Kaladan Campaign

As it happened, the 81st (WA) Division’s initial campaign ended in disappointment. With the ultimate aim of capturing Akyab, it had started well enough. Two of the Division’s brigades left Chiringa in December, 1943, and cut a jeep track through the jungle to the Kaladan Valley, a task that would take six weeks.

For Captain Catternach, the orders from High Command were very clear: ‘The force was ordered to march 150 miles into the jungle, and fight its way for another 100 miles south to capture the Japanese Corps HQ on the Arakan front.’ [58] The seventy-three-mile-long track became known as ‘West Africa Way’, and was cut by the 81st (WA) Division’s Field Engineers (known as sappers). The Sudan Star recorded the track’s importance in April, 1945:

Straight as an arrow across four ranges of jungle-covered Burmese mountains runs a road leading down to the Kaladan River. Known as ‘West Africa Way’, it was hacked out by sappers of the 81st WA Division. Without it the division would never have completed its epic march to the river. But thanks to the sappers the division got through. [59]

After the Division had marched along the track, the advance down the Kaladan began. The 6th Brigade moved along each side of the river, and the 5th moved along the line of hills to the west of the Kaladan Valley. Each platoon had fourteen unarmed head loaders, who carried supplies, ammunition and equipment.

An RAF Dakota flying along the Balkan coast. Credit: Imperial War Museum

As the advance progressed, air strips were cut enabling the Division to be regularly supplied by Dakota aircraft. Initial success arrived with the capture of Pagoda Hill in late February 1944. The hill rose 250ft above river level, and dominated the landscape for many miles around.

All seemed rosy – the Division had marched seventy miles in a little over four weeks, and were further south in Burma than any Allied force had been since the full-scale retreat. After this, however, the misfortunes began.

Woolner instructed his troops to move further down the valley on the 29th February, but for reasons unknown, he failed to place a strong detachment of troops on top of Pagoda Hill. Only a small force of East African scouts attached to the Division were left behind – and they were easily over-run by a Japanese probing attack, causing the remainder of the Division to retreat back in confusion.

The Japanese recaptured Pagoda Hill, and a further group of troops successfully attacked a nearby British and Indian force making for Akyab. Woolner was ordered to regroup his Division and retire back to the head waters of the Kaladan. For the remainder of the campaign, the Division was retreating and on the defensive – on several occasions they were in great difficulty, but fought their way out successfully.

5th Brigade was slow reacting to the withdrawal order, and was attacked, almost catastrophically, on 6th March. The failed campaign was truly over, however, when the monsoon rains came. The Japanese offensive had reached Mowdok, just fifty miles from Chiringa – the Division’s base and starting point.

This had been a disappointing start for the West Africans. General Giffard, the Commander-in-Chief, had expected ‘jungle-reared’ Africans to prove themselves against the Japanese in the jungle. Patrick Turnbull went so far as to say: ‘they had shown themselves to be the most unreliable of the multi-ethnic groups serving in the ranks of XV Corps’. [60]

Woolner, who had come to the conclusion that the West Africans could no longer be relied upon to carry out their allotted tasks, was relieved of his duties shortly after the failed campaign. He was replaced by Major General Loftus-Tottenham, an experienced Gurkha soldier who had come from commanding 33 Indian Brigade at Kohima.

Why did the West Africans fail in their first campaign? The most obvious reason was inexperience. Much of the Division’s time had been spent travelling; at sea, on railways and on the road. In hindsight, not nearly enough practice had been put into jungle warfare.

But it was not just the troops that could be blamed – their commanders, too, lacked experience. Woolner’s men were confident and determined, but they underestimated the class of their enemy and the difficulty of the Burmese terrain. Furthermore, the 81st (WA) Division had gone into the first Kaladan Campaign isolated and alone, with no possibility of support should things go wrong. John Hamilton believed the blame laid squarely with those in command:

None of our generals realised that Wingate’s ‘Special Force’ was not the only one capable of penetrating into enemy territory and operating there in the jungle; the West Africans’ normal organisation was special and unique, but too little known and appreciated. [61]

He continued, with immediate reference to General Slim:

That ex-Gurkha officers should take only a negative view of the West Africans is hardly surprising, but it is astonishing that the C-in-C, Gen Giffard, the ‘Father of the RWAFF’, who was responsible for their being in Burma, should have shown so little trust in them and have done nothing, it would seem, to inform his subordinate generals about them and their mobility in the jungle. [62] 

If Hamilton’s words were true, the troops of the 81st (WA) Division would face an uphill battle if they were going to prove themselves adept opponents of the Japanese. After Woolner’s departure, the Division would need a commander who could exploit their talents.

General Sir Alexander Frank Philip Christison. Credit: Berserker276

Somewhat worryingly, Loftus-Tottenham fitted the mould of a ‘sepoy general’ – he was another ex-Gurkha officer. Furthermore, the man who relieved Woolner of his duties by replacing him with Loftus-Tottenham was General Philip Christison, Commander of XV Corps. Christison was a source of ‘constant help and encouragement’ [63] in the writing of Patrick Turnbull’s Battle of the Box, and no doubt influenced the author’s assessment of the West Africans.

Christison’s own views were not particularly favourable, to the carriers especially, whom he apparently referred to as a ‘fatal weakness’ in the Division. The carriers did, however, contribute to the obvious success of the 81st (WA) Division’s initial campaign – their undoubted jungle mobility.

The Department of Information in Accra published an article in 1945 which pointed to the carriers’ skill in the jungle-covered Arakan: ‘A Major of whom we asked the route pointed towards a forbidding looking series of bamboo-covered hills and said: “There is no track over there, but those West Africans can go anywhere. They seem to be able to carry any darned thing on their heads.”’ [64]

Field Surgeon Dr Bullock relied on the carriers in his unit to construct makeshift operating theatres. He remarked in his diary: ‘Two bamboo or brushwood tables to hold instruments would be made by the carriers, whilst others collected firewood and water in empty ration tins.’ [65]

Aside from the carriers, the first Kaladan Campaign was useful in gauging the West Africans’ initial performance in battle. There were individual successes. Corporal Seku Kassama reported to his superior: ‘Sah! I see Japan come – dey da tote small mortar for head. I tell de men, dey da tote dey pack. I da take my Millsin grenell, I da pull de pin, I da trow’um – I da count, one, two, three, four – sah, he da answer!’ [66]

Seku had followed his brief perfectly. His job was to forewarn his men of the enemy’s approach, and delay them if possible. He instructed his men to carry their packs on their head, which was less likely to draw attention than if they had struggled to put them on. He knew that his grenade would be the best choice of weapon, because it was less likely that his unit’s position would be given away, and when it ‘answered’, he was clearly pleased with his work.

Corporal Seku, an NCO, had managed well enough without a white man advising him. Illiteracy, too, had not been a problem. Seku had memorised his Weapon Training Manual, and would have known that his grenade had a four second delay.

Illiteracy would prove a subsequent problem for historians, however. Gauging the Africans’ experience has been difficult because so few troops kept diaries, such was their inability to read and write. There are anecdotes, like Corporal Seku’s, but these come from British soldiers rather than the Africans themselves.

Inaccuracies are bound to occur, and British soldiers may well have been selective in choosing which anecdotes to recall. It also leaves a problem of one-sidedness; namely, that it is quite straightforward to access information regarding British perceptions of African troops, from Lieutenant General down to Private, but almost impossible to gauge African perceptions of the British, their wider attitudes towards the Empire and their motivations for going to fight in Burma.

Private Isaac Fadoyebo’s memoir, A stroke of unbelievable luck, is one notable exception. Written in 1988, it gives a useful insight into life as a West African Private serving in the Burmese jungle. Fadoyebo was a non-combatant who served with the 29th Casualty Clearing Station, 1st Battalion, the Gambia Regiment (part of 6th WA Brigade) during the failed first Kaladan Campaign. Before the campaign began, it was clearly a cause for concern that most Africans in his unit would remain unarmed: ‘In the case of the blacks only Company Sergeant Major Duke and the motor drivers of all ranks were allowed to bear arms. The authorities would appear to be unfair to the rest of us who were not supplied with rifles.’

Isaac Fadoyebo, shortly before his death in 2012 aged 86. Credit: The Guardian

His memoir proper begins in the village of Nyron in March 1944, during the course of 81st (WA) Division’s journey down the Kaladan River. It was there that his Battalion was attacked by the Japanese, and Fadoyebo was unfortunate enough to suffer a fractured femur and a bullet through his stomach.

In the ensuing chaos, the eighteen year-old Fadoyebo became detached from his Battalion. The Japanese, believing that he would die of his wounds, left him lying where he fell, something he referred to as ‘callous’.

His memoir then launches into his personal battle for survival in the jungle – it does not, unfortunately, go into any detail as to the operations of his Battalion, so gauging how effective his colleagues were in battle is all but impossible.

It is useful, however, in gaining an understanding of how Fadoyebo adapted to his surroundings. Remarkably, he was able to survive for nine months before being found; a notable achievement for an inexperienced teenage Private in alien surroundings, thousands of miles from home.

Local villagers found and took pity on the wounded Fadoyebo. They had not seen a Black person before, but showed him sympathy by carrying him to a more sheltered position and providing him with water. They also brought him to thirty year-old Sergeant David Kagbo, another West African who had become separated from his unit.

The pair’s survival strategy was based on religion – Fadoyebo had noticed that the local population were predominantly Indian Muslims, who were ‘extraordinarily keen’ about religion. The local Indians appeared friendly, whereas the Burmese ‘were fewer in the neighbourhood and were extremely hostile to members of the allied forces’. In order to gain help, they persuaded the Indians that they were Muslims. Luckily, Sergeant Kagbo had had a Muslim upbringing, and he was able to think of new names for the pair. He became Dauda Ali, and Fadoyebo became Suleman.

It soon became obvious why the local Burmese were unwilling to help: ‘We were told that the Burmese assisted the Japanese in uprooting colonial Britain during the first Burma Campaign and that the Japanese obtained the aid of the Burmese by promising them that Burma would become an independent nation as soon as the territory was occupied by the Japanese.’

Fadoyebo’s injuries were so severe that he was unable to sit up: ‘My toilet was the spot in which I laid.’ He was robbed of his only possession – his soiled and tattered jacket. By Fadoyebo’s own admission, it was a near-miracle that he did not die of malaria: ‘It might be that our level of immunity was high being Africans. There was a time when I was virtually naked for three weeks with the result that I was at their [the mosquitoes] mercy through and through.’

Fadoyebo was later able to lodge in a local’s house half a kilometre away, but because of his injuries the journey took one and a half hours. He and Kagbo led a blind existence: ‘We were in a world of our own, and so cut off from the rest of the universe that we had no idea of dates or days of the week. On the day we were rescued by the Gurkha troops our ‘calendar’ read 15th August 1944, whereas the real date was 10th December. We missed it by nearly four months.’

A Gurkha patrol entered Nyron and found Fadoyebo and Kagbo hiding in the local’s house. They were quickly evacuated by plane to Cox’s Bazaar in the Bay of Bengal, then onwards to Chittagong and Calcutta by sea. ‘I attracted a lot of attention on board the navy ship, being one of the few literate African soldiers at that time. The British Navy boys would gather round me to listen to the story of my ordeal in the jungle. Each person kept telling the other, “Eh! Come and see one of the African soldiers that speaks good English, he has some exciting stories to tell.”’

‘We played the role of guinea pig in Burma jungle warfare with disastrous consequences’

Fadoyebo’s unit had suffered so badly during the first Kaladan Campaign that it was to be excused from further duty: ‘During the campaign our unit suffered such untold hardship that the military authorities decided that it should be spared the ordeal of going to the battle front for a second time. The extent of our suffering was well known to all the officers and men of the 81st (WA) Division, particularly 6th (WA) Brigade.’ He remained philosophical amount his brigade’s operations: ‘We were the first to launch an offensive against the Japanese troops early in 1944. The other brigades were due to come in later. We therefore played the role of guinea pig in Burma jungle warfare with disastrous consequences.’

After arriving in hospital, Fadoyebo’s physical disability was assessed at sixty per cent. At just eighteen, the young Private would never walk unaided again. He remarked: ‘I should be one of the youngest soldiers to take part in the Burma Campaign. In fact, I regard myself as one of the youngest soldiers ever to take part in a world war.’

Fadoyebo shows remarkable reserve in his memoir – he does not express any anger or bitterness towards the extent of his injuries, but he does explain how one journalist showed ‘signs of rage’ when he heard his story: ‘Why should a young man be permanently maimed as a result of a world war the cause of which he might not even know?’

Doctors tend a wounded 81st (WA) Division soldier in the Kaladan Valley. Credit: Imperial War Museum

Private Fadoyebo was one of 726 West Africans to get wounded in the first Kaladan Campaign. 162 were killed, and a further 150 remained missing. [67] In contrast, 25 Europeans were killed, 101 were wounded, and 7 remained missing. [68] One European was killed for every seven Africans – a relatively high figure considering that the ratio of Europeans to Africans was 1 to 14. This says something about the workings of the two West African brigades; namely, that the Europeans paid a high price for being leaders.

Unfortunately, Private Fadoyebo’s memoir has limitations. He does not go into any great detail regarding the relationship between the British and West Africans – perhaps due to his reserve (although, because his memoir was written over forty years since the end of the conflict, any resentment may well have died down), perhaps due to his wartime circumstances (the majority of his time in Burma was spent with just one colleague).

Nonetheless, he did remark that ‘the friendly feeling and behaviour among the officers and other ranks were beyond description’. Presumably, he is referring to the relationships across nationalities, not just among the West Africans.

The most remarkable part of his story is that he survived in the Burmese jungle for nine months, despite being seriously injured. Indeed, it is a testament to the hardiness and resourcefulness of the West African soldier. One would find it difficult to imagine a British soldier surviving such prolonged hardship – it would have been almost impossible to avoid contracting malaria, and more difficult still to feign belonging to the Muslim faith.

General Slim, it is understood, never changed his view that the African would be ‘lost’ if left by himself in Burma. Fadoyebo had no British officer to tell him what to do – yet he survived in the jungle for nine months. His story, therefore, goes some way in disproving the General’s belief. 

Dr W Bullock, a surgeon who served on the frontline in the Kaladan, was one figure who recognised the toughness of the West African. He wrote in his wartime diary:

An African was brought to the A.D.S. twenty hours after being wounded. He had a penetrating G.S.W. of the abdomen; there was no air evacuation available, and he had to be operated upon. After resuscitation, two large tears of the ileum were sewn up, and the remains of an Ascaris removed from the peritoneal cavity. During the ensuing twenty four hours there were so many casualties that scant attention could be given to him. The next evening he was carried to a newly made air-strip, six miles away over rough country, to be ready for evacuation early the next morning. On arrival it was found that protection could not be given against the enemy patrols so he was brought back over the same six miles. The journey was more successfully repeated the next morning, and he reached a Base Hospital five days after being wounded. It is a tribute to the African constitution to report that by the time he came to he was drinking copiously and demanding food. [69] 

3rd West African Brigade and the Chindits

The third brigade belonging to the 81st (WA) Division, consisting entirely of Nigerians, were chosen to fight as part of Orde Wingate’s Special Force, more commonly known as the Chindits. John Hamilton wrote that ‘no one seems to know whether Wingate particularly desired African troops’ [70], although he would have known of the two West African brigades that fought in the East African Campaign – despite not fighting directly alongside them (Wingate commanded a 1,700-strong Gideon Force in Abyssinia, a group of guerrilla troops drawn from Britain, Sudan and Ethiopia. They were responsible for hassling Italian bases and cutting their supply lines – it is therefore easy to see why he was handed command of the Chindits in Burma).

Biyi Bandele’s Burma Boy, published by Jonathan Cape in 2007.

The Chindits are perhaps the best known part of the Fourteenth Army. A number of books have been written about their operations – although the role of 3 (WA) Brigade has not been as recognised in comparison to the Special Force’s British and Gurkha columns (3rd West African was one of six Chindit brigades. The others were the 14th, 16th and 23rd British Infantry Brigades and 77th and 111th Indian Infantry Brigades. Both Indian brigades contained two Gurkha Battalions). Only recently has the lack of historiographical acknowledgment been addressed – Biyi Bandele, whose father fought with the Chindits, published Burma Boy in 2007. Based on years of research, it is the first novel depicting the experiences of Black African soldiers in the Second World War. Centred on the fictional Private Ali Banana and Sergeant Damisa, the novel concentrates on the pair’s movements as part of 3 (WA) Brigade at their ‘Aberdeen’ and ‘White City’ garrisons near Indaw in central Burma. One of the most revealing passages in the novel comes from Damisa, in reference to Wingate’s decision to draft in a Nigerian brigade:

I’ve heard that the Janar [General Wingate] himself personally requested at least one Nigerian brigade when he sat down to plan this coming expedition to Burma. They say he wanted Nigerians because in Somaliland and Abyssinia he saw that we were brave fighters and hard-working men. I do not know if this story is true, but I like to think it is. Consider this: of the six brigades that form the Chindits the only one that’s not made up of men from England and Scotland, or made up of Americans, is our very own Thunder, the 3rd West African Brigade. Even the Gurkhas do not have a whole brigade to themselves. And the Gurkhas are famed for their bravery and ferocity in battle. [71]  

Sergeant Damisa’s fictional monologue raises a very valid point. There is, unfortunately, no way of knowing why Wingate favoured an entire Nigerian brigade – the General was killed in an aeroplane crash on the night of the 24/25 March, on his way back from inspecting his troops. One reason may have been the Nigerians’ ability to pass messages between one another in Hausa – a language the Japanese were unable to comprehend. The Second Chindit Expedition went ahead despite Wingate’s death, under the command of Brigadier Lentaigne. Despite being arguably the most ‘jungle mobile’ of the six brigades, 3 West African (made up of the 6th, 7th and 12th Battalions of the Nigeria Regiment) were designated to form garrison battalions in ‘Broadway’, ‘White City’ and ‘Aberdeen’, due to the fact that they were relatively untested. The Nigerians did, however, prove effective in battle – 7th Nigerian Battalion successfully attacked and occupied the village of Thayaung, the base from which the Japanese were assaulting ‘White City’. The village was used for the next few days to launch a sustained attack on nearby Mawlu, and for a series of successful ambushes on unsuspecting Japanese troops. These actions, interjected by the occasional hard march or day of rest, ensured this particular unit would knit together into an effective fighting force. [72]

West African Chindits board an aeroplane ahead of Operation Thursday. Credit: SoLando

The Nigerian units were told to evacuate ‘White City’ shortly before the monsoon arrived and march north. It was to prove a trying time – the monsoon established itself as the more consistent and relentless enemy, during which time Lentaigne stayed at Force HQ, refusing to see the ground where his brigades were operating. Again, head loading proved useful. David Rooney wrote how ‘the brigade was buoyed up by the cheerful resilience of the African soldiers, and their willingness to head load stores which even the mules could not cope with’. [73] He also comments on their resourcefulness: ‘The Africans were sometimes able to supplement their rations, by climbing trees and cutting down parachute loads which other Columns had left.’ [74] In early July, the Nigerian troops advanced for an attack on a well prepared Japanese position, nicknamed Hill 60. Their operations there lasted until 16th July, and a number of casualties were inflicted on the Japanese. Despite a gallant effort, the Nigerians could not capture Hill 60 – they found, as had been warned, that Japanese troops who were sick and starving would defend their bunkers until every single man was dead. Peter Vaughan, who served with 7th Battalion, concluded his war diary with a Japanese comment on the Nigerian soldier: ‘They are not afraid to die, so even if their comrades have fallen, they keep on advancing as if nothing had happened. They have an excellent physique and are very brave, so fighting against these soldiers is very troublesome.’ Vaughan added: ‘What more unbiased appreciation could be found for the loyal, courteous, brave and loveable West African soldier?’ [75] Vaughan clearly respected the resilience of the West African soldier, more so after finding the comment in a Japanese diary, but his choice of adjectives was somewhat patronising – he sounds as though he was paying tribute to a family pet rather than a soldier in the British Army.

It should be remembered, too, that the Nigerians who fought with the Chindits were airborne troops – they had to fly in and out of their locations. Many would never have seen an aeroplane before, yet they were able to settle down in the strange conditions and get on with the task at hand. A further achievement of 3 West African Brigade was their second lowest sick to battle casualty ratio, at just over two men sick for each battle casualty. [76] By far the greatest number of casualties was caused by sickness – 14th Brigade evacuated over seven men sick for every man killed or wounded. Julian Thompson interpreted the figures as ‘a tribute to the West Africans and their officers’. [77]

Success in the Jungle: the Second Kaladan Campaign

Japanese appreciation of the West Africans’ fighting ability would be more pronounced during the Second Kaladan Campaign – one that would prove far more successful for the 81st (WA) Division, and their successors, the 82nd (WA) Division. The 81st started out from their base at Chiringa in September 1944, and made their way over the high frontier ridge separating India from Burma into the Kaladan. The Division’s new Commander, Major General Loftus Tottenham, was quick to appreciate the West Africans’ potential. John Hamilton wrote: ‘He realised that men who had acquired a thorough working knowledge of modern arms and equipment, learning in a foreign language, were not stupid. He had every confidence in the Division’s future success.’ [78] For the second time, the Division (of just two brigades, the 5th and 6th) would be entirely dependent on the air for supplies and the evacuation of injured troops. They would be isolated from all other formations, which meant no help should the Division find itself in trouble. The Central Office of Information, which published The Campaign in Burma for South East Asia Command, said of their operations: ‘Though only 60 miles distance from the coast, shut off by 2,000-foot mountains and the barrier of solid bamboo forests, they might have been (but for air transport would have been) in another world.’ [79] 

The monsoon, which ran between June and the beginning of October, postponed the actions of the 81st (WA) Division between the two Kaladan Campaigns. This allowed the Allies and the Japanese an interval in which to prepare their respective plans for Burma once the monsoon was over. The period immediately prior to the 1944 monsoon was critical for both sides – the Japanese Fifteenth Army undertook an offensive targeting Imphal in March (codenamed U-GO), and the Twenty-Eighth Army was ordered to carry out a subsidiary offensive in the Arakan, beginning in February (codenamed HA-GO). HA-GO was the first to fail with the Allied capture of Buthidaung and Razabil. Japanese troops had found themselves deep in enemy territory, short of supplies and suffering severe casualties. The Fourteenth Army’s XV Corps had prevailed through a combination of all-round defence, air supply, sound generalship and calm nerves. [80] In preparation for U-GO, General Scoones (Commander of IV Corps) ordered his troops to contract upon Imphal, with the aim of launching an eventual attack eastwards or westwards. The Japanese launched a series of attacks on Kohima, sixty miles north of Imphal, beginning on the 4th April. The attacks lasted for two weeks before the Japanese were put on the defensive. Their 31st Division had fought to the limits of their endurance – yet they remained determined for a last attack on Imphal. By 1st June, the Japanese finally retreated from Kohima. They attempted to reach Imphal, in vain, until the 4th July. For the Fourteenth Army, it was now a question of how soon the enemy could be pursued and the reconquest of Burma begin. The monsoon, however, would put a temporary halt on any subsequent advance.

Indian and Gurkha soldiers inspect captured Japanese ordnance during the battles for Imphal and Kohima. Credit: National Army Museum

The Allies’ South East Asia Command had planned a series of large scale offensives into Burma once the monsoon had ended. As well as capturing the Arakan, the Allies planned an all-out attack from Imphal, across the Chindwin River and into central Burma (where the terrain suited armoured and motorised formations – the West Africans, therefore, could expect to remain in the Arakan). The Japanese, in the aftermath of their defeat at Imphal and Kohima, appointed Lieutenant General Hyotaro Kimura to lead their Burma Area Army. Controversially, he refused to let his Fifteenth Army fight at the Chindwin, believing his troops were weak and short of equipment. As a consequence, they were withdrawn behind the Irrawaddy River (codenamed operation BAN). The Japanese Twenty-Eighth Army would resume its role in defending the Arakan (operation KAN).

The 81st (WA) Division’s orders were to march down the Kaladan Valley and capture the village of Myohaung, whereby they would be relieved by the 82nd (WA) Division. The Division was accompanied during the campaign by an ‘official observer’ – a figure absent from the Division’s initial Kaladan offensive. In October, he wrote from a position known as Frontier Hill, which members of 1 Sierra Leone Regiment had scaled:

In one of their attacks the Sierra Leoneans had to approach up an ascent which was practically vertical and involved coming round a sharp corner into the open about sixty yards from the Jap bunker positions on either side. Three young Sierra Leoneans led the attack, one armed with a Bren gun, another with a spare magazine…another with two primed grenades which he hurled as soon as they rounded the bend. When I later examined those Jap bunkers the next day they were riddled with bullet marks both in the framework round the firing slits and embedded in the interior walls. [81]

By 19th October, the Division learned that they would move south along the Kaladan and set up base at Paletwa. Japanese positions were cleared en route, and it was down to the West African to discover their whereabouts. John Hamilton wrote: ‘The Japanese positions were located by the jungle craft of Africans such as Lieutenant Corporal Samba Jallow; wearing only a dark-coloured pair of shorts, barefoot, and armed only with a grenade, he got within twenty yards of the Japanese defences. The position was then mortared and occupied by his section without loss.’ [82] The terrain was, to an extent, the greater challenge facing the Division – but the West Africans’ resourcefulness stood them in good stead, as the ‘official observer’ noted: ‘The willingness of these men to tackle any of nature’s obstacles with huge loads on their heads gave us a mobility far greater than the Jap anticipated.’ [83] The unpredictable Japanese forces occasionally proved deadly, however. John Rayment wrote how ‘every move on the line of the march was made with extreme caution and care. Ambushing of the forward troops became more frequent. It was difficult to settle on which were really the front lines of the Japanese and West African forces. It was a common occurrence for troops a little more in the rear of the main force to be caught in a well-laid Japanese ambush.’ [84]

A new objective was drawn up by High Command in November – the Division had to establish itself around Kaladan village by the 1st December, from where it could launch probing attacks towards Kyauktaw and Thayettabin. One battalion was left behind at Paletwa. The Division’s plans were revised regularly, much to the frustration of John Hamilton, who wrote: ‘Throughout this second campaign the objective which the Division was set kept changing as it advanced, a new one set before the current objective had been reached.’ [85] In the latest instance, the idea of a ‘firm base’ was discarded; any recently taken positions were to be treated as temporary bases until the Division reached the area of Paukpingwin, seven miles from Thayettabin. John Rayment, on the other hand, applauded the ‘brilliant planning’ of the Divisional Commander: ‘It was found necessary to consolidate positions gained and to prepare for a new move onwards. Tactics were beginning to be applied with great detail and planning.’ [86]

The next stage of the operation involved crossing the Kaladan River from Orama to Tinma West, approximately seven miles south of Kaladan village. This required the expertise of the Division’s sappers. John Rayment wrote about the difficulties of attempting to cross the river:

Archer and his Africans spent the afternoon commandeering boats of all shapes and sizes and lashing them together two abreast. Four outboard motors were expected to be dropped by air just before dusk. The crossing was to take place at night. The dropping zone was laid out on the edge of the river. Over the plane came, and dropped four bundles. Not a single parachute opened. Three of the outboards were smashed to smithereens. The fourth, which fell in the mud, was bent beyond repair. Archer wirelessed back to Fergie giving him the news, asking if the crossing should be called off. Fergie’s reply was to the effect that if Archer had no outboards the best thing he could do was to carry the bastards over on his back.

Archer nevertheless decided to have a go. He sent some of his boys to the bush to cut some long stout poles. They were used to propel the rafts along. With others he fashioned rough oars, which were lashed to the gunwales of the boats. He also fixed tiller-type homemade rudders. He gave the Africans fifteen minutes’ instruction on how to ply the rafts and sat down to wait the coming of the first Infantry Company. By then it was pitch dark and no lights were allowed. The crossing was carried out successfully and later the Infantry were brought back from the other side of the river. [87]

The Phoenix newspaper reflected on the crossing of the Kaladan some three months after the event:

As they approached the southern plains the West Africans ran into stiffening opposition, but their progress down the east side of the Kaladan slowly squeezed the large enemy forces against the block to their escape route which was constituted by the capture of Akyab on Jan 3 and the seizure of Mydon 10 days later. Thus the crossing of the Kaladan and the advance down its valley by the West Africans has been of prime importance to the forces on the main Arakan front. [88]

The Phoenix’s article was accompanied with the above photograph of a West African soldier rowing between the Kaladan’s banks. One has to be slightly wary of newspaper photographs – it is unlikely that this particular soldier would be rowing ‘down’ the Kaladan, as the photograph’s caption suggests. Indeed, the photograph lends the impression that the soldier was going for a leisurely paddle, or perhaps to catch some fish (another example of the African ‘savage’ stereotype) – in reality, venturing down the river would have meant going deeper into Japanese territory. Such photographs served as a propaganda exercise to an extent, enabling people to form the impression that the West Africans were ‘at home’ in the Arakan jungle. It is a testament to their resourcefulness that they were able to adapt to their surroundings quickly, but the terrain and climate was certainly not akin to most areas of West Africa.

By this time, the 82nd (WA) Division, under the command of Major General Stockwell, had reoccupied Buthidaung and had moved down the east bank of the Mayu River. The Division had entered the Arakan in November – their objective was an advance down the Mayu Peninsula from the Kalapanzin Valley, before linking up with the 81st (WA) Division at Myohaung and continuing the advance southwards. Like their 81st Division counterparts, the troops of 82nd proved just as able to adapt to the demands of jungle warfare.

The Japanese were slow to react to 81st (WA) Division’s move to the east bank of the Kaladan. Because the Allies enjoyed air superiority over Burma, any mass movement had to be done under the cover of darkness – something that proved extremely slow. As a result, the Division was granted a brief period of rest and relaxation before the next Japanese attack – one that was convincingly repelled. The enemy, as the official observer noted, was very much on the back foot:

On another occasion the Nigerians’ only water point lay between their positions and those of the Japs, and rather less than sixty yards from the enemy. Every day at dusk the Africans used to go down to draw water with an armed escort, but so scared were the Nips of laying themselves open to return fire that never once did they open up. [89]

The Division would now march on to Pagoda Hill, the scene of most activity during the first Kaladan Campaign, via the Yan chaung. The next move would have to be completed by the 14th January, with the establishment of a firm base from which operations against Myohaung could be launched. This movement started on 17th December – 6 Brigade would lead as far as Thanada, where they would occupy positions south of the river. 5 Brigade would follow and pass through 6 Brigade before taking up positions south of them.

The advance along the Yan chaung proved relatively quick and easy, and without any serious or prolonged resistance. As a consequence, the Division found itself within striking distance of its objective – just 15 miles. Once again, the establishment of a firm base was abandoned in favour of ‘offensive operations directed against Myohaung’, although the Division was initially forbidden to enter the town. [90] Permission was granted by High Command on 15th January, coinciding with the arrival of 82nd (WA) Division on to the scene five day earlier. It was the largest concentration of Britain’s West African troops ever assembled. For General Loftus Tottenham, the numbers translated into four brigades instead of the usual two. The fighting for Myohaung turned out to be fierce – the Japanese repeatedly launched counterattacks to cover the withdrawal of their guns and transport. Once the battle had been won, General Stockwell’s 82nd (WA) Division took over from General Loftus Tottenham’s 81st. Stockwell said after the battle: ‘Provided Africans are presented to the battle properly, with good orders, they know what they’ve got to do, and that they will be properly supported, they will fight marvellously and they ‘saw the Japanese off’.’ [91] The majority of 81st (WA) Division marched out to Buthidaung, where motor transport took them back to their jungle base at Chiringa. In early February General Oliver Leese, who had recently taken over from General Giffard as Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Land Forces, South East Asia, visited the Division. He wrote in his official Despatch that:

81 (WA) Division, which, it must be remembered, only consisted of two brigades, had outmanoeuvred and outfought parts of the Japanese 54th and 55th Divisions and cleared the greater part of the Kaladan Valley. They showed outstanding ability to endure terrible conditions of terrain and climate, and to operate with slender resources and limited communications with the outside world. 

John Hamilton wrote of the campaign:

The Division had demonstrated their unique ability in the jungle, thousands of men advancing on a one man front. They had reached a bewildering set of objectives, not just on schedule but well ahead of it, moving much faster than had been expected or thought possible. They achieved their aims by using the jungle as a cloak so as to outmanoeuvre the enemy, incurring little more than one third as many casualties as in the first campaign. They could have gone faster and further if they had not repeatedly been held back to conform with movements on the main front with which theirs had no connection, and attempts to cut off the Japanese further south which all failed. Their performance may not have ‘destroyed’ large numbers of Japanese, nor rate as a great feat of arms, but it was beyond dispute a supremely effective and economical feat of legs, heads and matchets. [92]

Hamilton makes particular reference to General Christison’s (Commander of XV Corps) account of the Arakan campaign, in which he says very little about 81st (WA) Division. It is what he did write, however, that caused the most offence: ‘To help 81 Division I flew in a Regiment of Mountain Artillery and several hundred white oxen to carry ammunition etc., and as a spur told the Africans they could eat them when they had taken Myohaung.’ The General continued: ‘Nigerian troops which were the best soldiers in the West African Divisions finally stormed Myohaung with very strong air support.’ [93] John Hamilton, a platoon commander and signals officer belonging to the 81st (WA) Division, did not hold back in his response:

It seems there is nothing too derogatory to be printed or believed about Britain’s West African soldiers. The Division in fact had two batteries only of mountain artillery, which marched in and joined the Division in November; no guns were flown in. There were no oxen flown in, white or any other colour; to fly in several hundred would have been a major operation. The West Africans needed no pack animals, and were happier when there were no mules around. The suggestion that the West African soldiers needed a crude incentive to spur them on to do their duty is a contemptible slur of a kind which no General would have ever dared to pass on to British, Indian or Gurkha troops. Air support was not called on in the ‘storming’ of Myohaung, and no West African officer would presume to say which colony provided the best officers. [94]

It was of paramount importance to maintain the morale of the West African troops during their campaign in the Kaladan, but where General Christison envisaged his ideas remains something of a mystery. In reality, ‘spurs’ were far more subtle, as was reported in the Delhi Statesman in February 1945, in an article entitled ‘Appeal For More Letters To W.African Troops’:

Agreeing with a tribute to the bravery of officers and men of the WAFF sent by the Legislative Council, Gen Brocas Burrows said: ‘Without exception what I have seen of them has made me proud to be visiting them in Burma and India. The cheerfulness I have found everywhere and the joy of all ranks at meeting somebody who brings recent news and messages from their home has deeply impressed me.’ [95]

An injured West African soldier is carried from a Stinson L-5 Sentinel at an airstrip near Kantha, February 1945. Credit: Imperial War Museum

Perhaps the most significant words were written by Lord Louis Mountbatten, Supreme Allied Commander, South East Asia Command, in his congratulatory message to 81st (WA) Division. His brief letter ended: ‘You have…established a reputation for your Division which will always be remembered in the annals of the Burma campaign.’ [96] His words, as it turned out, could not have been further from the truth. 

11th East African Division and the Kabaw Valley

The operations of 11th East African Division are less celebrated than their West African colleagues, perhaps due to their relatively limited time in combat. They did, however, enjoy unprecedented success. The Division took over the spearhead of the Allied attack from the 23rd Indian Division in the Tamu area, at the head of the Kabaw Valley, in August 1944. John Nunneley, who served in the campaign, referred to the valley as ‘infested with malaria and scrub typhus, the Kabaw is a depression of dense teak forest drenched with unceasing downpours of torrential rain’. [97] Their objective was to advance down the valley, take the villages of Kalemyo and Kalewa, and establish a bridge-head over the Chindwin River. Many of the Division’s officers and soldiers were battle-hardened after serving in the Abyssinia campaign – but operations in the Kabaw Valley were to present a new challenge. Michael Hickey recognised the Division’s talents, and wrote of the East Africans as having a ‘sixth sense’ in the Burmese jungle:

Their officers soon discovered that the East African tribesman displayed an uncanny sixth sense in the bush. He could ‘point’ a concealed enemy like a well-trained gun dog, and there were numerous cases where an African soldier insisted that the enemy was close at hand but was disbelieved by his British officer, often with tragic results. [98] 

Despite Hickey’s attempts to praise the East African soldiers, his ‘gun dog’ comparison is rather unflattering – it would, for example, be hard to imagine another type of soldier in the British Army being compared to a canine.

The East Africans established a reputation among the Japanese as cannibals – a racial stereotype that worked in their favour. While it was not true, the idea shattered Japanese morale, who believed they could not join their ancestors in the afterlife if they had passed through the bowels of a Black man. Nonetheless, the Division was subjected to fierce fighting. The toughest battle in the Kabaw Valley involved an attack by the 26th East African Brigade towards the end of October, and resulted in the death of one officer, one Company Sergeant Major, and eleven askaris (the Swahili for ‘soldier’). Despite their successes, a war correspondent embedded with the East Africans wrote how ‘nothing was provided for the Askari, not the fault of East Africa, but because of faulty arrangements in back areas [India]. 14th Army were notoriously bad in their efforts to do anything for African troops, who did not have the local support of Indian Divisions.’ [99]

11th East African Division troops on the road to Kalewa. Credit: Imperial War Museum

After further fighting, the head of the Division reached Kalewa on 2nd December, 1944. The next task was to bridge the Chindwin River – something that was duly achieved. On 8th January 1945, the 11th East African Division was withdrawn to Imphal after their set missions had been accomplished. An article in the Calcutta Statesman in April 1945 highlighted the Division’s achievements:

The Duke of Devonshire, Colonial Parliamentary Under-Secretary, paid a tribute to the East African troops he saw during his recent visit to India and Burma. Speaking in the House of Lords today, he said the march of the 11th East African Division into the Chindwin through the mud and the rain of monsoon was an ‘achievement of the impossible’. Declaring that Africans had absolute confidence in themselves, the Duke of Devonshire said they knew they were masters of the Japanese. [100] 

Legacy

Lord Mountbatten’s congratulatory letter to 81st (WA) Division was not prophetic, and Churchill’s hope that Britain’s West African troops would make a name themselves remained unfulfilled. The East Africans, too, have remained underrated and under acknowledged in the subsequent accounts of the conflict in the Far East. Is this because they were not considered important enough in the overall campaign to liberate Burma? Or does the post-war historiography reveal a wider negative attitude among historians towards Britain’s African troops?

The West Africans brought their unique skills to jungle warfare – their mobility, their ability to strike fear into their opponents and their resourcefulness. As we have seen, they were not, for the majority, ‘jungle-reared’ – yet they were able to adapt themselves to one of the most unforgiving environments of the Second World War. The quality of their opponents, too, should not be underestimated. Before the Africans entered the fray, the Japanese had firmly established themselves as the occupiers of Burma. They proved themselves adept at fighting in the jungle and were able to utilise the country’s resources. It would take Allied troops of previously unknown calibre to drive them back out.

The 81st (WA) Division were given the job of driving the Japanese from the Kaladan region. It was a decision based on the premise that West Africans were used to the jungle – misguided, perhaps, but the West African troops spared their commanders’ blushes by successfully adapting to their surroundings and to jungle warfare (unless, of course, you subscribe to the view of Ian Turnbull in his Battle of the Box). Granted, the Division failed its initial sojourn into the Kaladan – but the argument that the Generals were to blame, first put forward by John Hamilton, is a convincing one. Their biggest failing was their inability to recognise the West Africans’ unique ability: their carriers. High Command, sheltered away from the battlefield, never saw them at work. As the anecdotes above suggest, they were pivotal in the West Africans’ success during the second Kaladan campaign. How else would they have been able to move ammunition and provisions through dense jungle, for miles on end? Had the potential of the carriers been realised, the West Africans would have undoubtedly achieved greater things. But, as John Hamilton wrote, ‘who would dream of using West Africans in a crucial battle?’ [101] Unfortunately, the West Africans’ strength and potential were never fully exploited. Their talents were not realised by those who commanded them – and as a consequence, their perceived importance in the overall Burma conflict has been undermined, despite their eventual success.

Furthermore, the 81st (WA) Division’s operations were shrouded from public view. In essence, they fought a private war – away from the glare of operations in North West Europe, and to an extent, the Fourteenth Army’s wider operations in Burma. The 81st (WA) Division had no ‘official observer’ until its second campaign, and even then it still had no photographer. What happened in the Arakan, therefore, was not considered particularly important by the impartial observer. Many people in Britain would have been blissfully unaware that any African troops were fighting in Burma’s north-western extremity. Unfortunately, these attitudes have affected the subsequent literature on the war in Burma – and may explain why the writings on the African Divisions are so lacking. Perhaps the most obvious example is Louis Allen’s Burma: The Longest War, considered to be one of the most exhaustive accounts of the campaign. The 81st (WA) Division receive a single mention; even then, it is wrongly referred to as 81 East African Division – a rather clumsy error, and one likely to shape the reader’s view of how important the Division’s operations were. The 82nd (WA) Division receive two mentions, and the 11th East African four – despite spending considerably less time in battle.

Illiteracy, too, has played a role in undermining the African Divisions’ perceived importance. Historians have found it relatively straightforward to map the operations of the three Divisions, but there is a chronic lack of anecdotal evidence from African soldiers. While illiteracy did not prove too strong a barrier in the Burmese jungle, the lack of an African voice has undoubtedly influenced post-war historiography. The writings on the African Divisions are largely by British Generals, Captains, Majors and Doctors – some of whom are prone to exposing racist stereotypes, albeit with good intentions. As much as the British diaries and journals are useful, they are, to an extent, one-sided and biased. John Rayment’s Temporary Gentlemen is perhaps the most revealing – but the anecdotes from West African soldiers are ones that he selected. There is nothing, for example, on how the West African soldiers viewed their British superiors, or their wider attitudes towards race and empire. Where African diaries do exist, namely Isaac Fadoyebo’s, they have obvious limitations, and do not go far enough in countering the one-sidedness. While it is possible to judge the effectiveness of the African fighting units collectively, it is almost impossible to gauge the individual experiences of the African soldier. Biyi Bandele’s Burma Boy has gone some way to rectify this, it being the first novel to depict the experiences of black African soldiers in the Second World War. Despite being fictional, it is useful in gauging an ordinary Nigerian soldier’s perspective on fighting the Japanese in Burma.

11th East African Division troops land at Kalewa having crossed the Chindwin. Credit: Imperial War Museum

The 11th East African Division’s operations in the Kabaw Valley were not as well documented as the movements of their West African colleagues, despite their obvious success in taking the villages of Kalemyo and Kalewa and bridging the Chindwin River. Unlike the two West African Divisions, the East Africans did not use carriers – instead, loads were carried on soldiers’ backs and everything else was piled into jeeps and trailers. They were a more conventional fighting unit, and as a result, did not generate the same amount of interest and controversy as the West African Divisions. Their operations, successfully completed despite the monsoon conditions, were of great strategic importance, opening the way for subsequent advances into the heart of Burma.

Julian Thompson wrote that ‘in an army that took a perverse pride in calling itself ‘Forgotten’, the Africans, and what they did, are truly forgotten today’. [102] This is the unfortunate truth. The Fourteenth was one of the most multicultural armies in history – and in particular, the British should take credit for establishing the three African Divisions. J. Brooke, an American war correspondent, spent a week with 2 (WA) Brigade. He wrote: ‘Judging from American standards, most of these men would never be in the Army…but relegated to duty as menial labourers. Yet the British have welded them into a mighty fighting force with the enemy has learned to fear.’ [103] Brooke’s tribute is more impartial than those of British Generals, and it should have resonated in post-war literature. Sadly, however, the African Divisions’ contribution to the war in Burma has never been fully recognised, despite their successful operations in the Arakan, in central Burma with the Chindits, and the Kabaw Valley. Their importance in the overall campaign in Burma should never have been so chronically undervalued and undermined. 

Appendix A

Map showing Burma’s Arakan region – the theatre of operations for the 81st and 82nd (WA) Divisions

Appendix B

Panoramic drawing of the Kabaw Valley and the villages of Kalemye (spelt Kalemyo elsewhere) and Kalewa – the scene of 11th East African Division’s operations

Bibliography 

Unpublished sources

Imperial War Museum, London, 99/77/1 8546, Dr FRCS Bullock.

Imperial War Museum, London, K 90/886, Capt. J Catternach, The Jeep Track: The story of 81st (WA) Division fighting on the Arakan front in Burma, 1990.

Imperial War Museum, London, 97/2/1 6275, I. Fadoyebo, A stroke of unbelievable luck, 1988.

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Imperial War Museum, London, 93/175, 81 (West African) Division, the Second Kaladan Campaign, August 1944  - January 1945.

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Imperial War Museum, London, 94/2441, Calcutta Statesman, 16th April, 1945.

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A. M. Israel, ‘Measuring the War Experience: Ghanaian Soldiers in World War II’ Journal of Modern African Studies, Vol.25, No.1 (March 1987).

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References

[1] W. S. Churchill, The Second World War, Volume 4: The Hinge of Fate (Mariner: London, 1986), p.847.

[2] The Kintampo Camp Weekly, 24 March 1946, p.15.

[3] House of Commons Debates, vol.84, cols. 1530-6 (25 Aug 1916).

[4] Josiah Wedgwood, Memoirs of a Fighting Life (London, 1941), p.134-5.

[5] The Daily Chronicle, ‘African Manpower’, 7 Nov 1916, p.4.

[6] D. Killingray, ‘The Idea of a British Imperial African Army’ Journal of African History, Vol.20, No.3 (1979), p.426.

[7] Killingray, ‘The Idea of a British Imperial African Army’, p.427.

[8] A. Osuntokun, Nigeria in the First World War (Humanities Pr, 1979), p.45.

[9] L. James, The Rise & Fall of the British Empire (London: Abacus, 2005), p.353.

[10] Ibid., p.354.

[11] Ibid.

[12] D. Killingray, ‘Labour Exploitation for Military Campaigns in British Colonial Africa 1870-1945’ Journal of Contemporary History, Vol.24, No.3 (July 1989), p.484.

[13] W.O. 32/5356, Churchill to Cigs, 11 Jan. 1920; Colonial Office to War Office, 4 Feb. 1920.

[14] C.O. 820/32/34220, secret memo to S/S at Colonial Office, 11 June 1938.

[15] Killingray, ‘The Idea of a British Imperial African Army’, p.432.

[16] J. Hamilton, War Bush, 81 (West African) Division in Burma 1943-1945 (Norwich: Michael Russell, 2001), p.28.

[17] Ibid.

[18] Imperial War Museum, London, 87/6/1 1254, A. A. Mayard, May 1944 – January 1946.

[19] Killingray, ‘The Idea of a British Imperial African Army’, p.432.

[20] Ibid.

[21] Hamilton, War Bush, p.28.

[22] Killingray, ‘The Idea of a British Imperial African Army’, p.432.

[23] Hamilton, War Bush, p.30.

[24] J. Thompson, The Imperial War Museum Book of the War in Burma 1942-1945 (London: Pan Macmillan, 2002), p.43.

[25] Thompson, War in Burma, p.76.

[26] F.-M. Slim, Defeat into Victory (London: Macmillan, 1986), p.163.

[27] Imperial War Museum, London, K 90/886, Capt. J Catternach, The Jeep Track: The story of 81st (WA) Division fighting on the Arakan front in Burma, 1990.

[28] Hamilton, War Bush, p.45.

[29] Imperial War Museum, London, 97/2/1 6275, I. Fadoyebo, A stroke of unbelievable luck, 1988.

[30] J. Rayment, Temporary Gentlemen (Winchester: George Mann, 2003), p.17.

[31] BBC WW2 People’s War, A3249047, Sgt. J. Moore, War Experiences in Nigeria and Burma.

[32] Ibid.

[33] Rayment, Temporary Gentlemen, p.10.

[34] Rayment, Temporary Gentlemen, p.20.

[35] Ibid.

[36] Hamilton, War Bush, p.32.

[37] Imperial War Museum, 87/6/1 1254, Mayard.

[38] Imperial War Museum, 97/2/1 6275, Fadoyebo.

[39] Ibid.

[40] Ibid.

[41] J. Nunneley, Tales from the King’s African Rifles (London: Cassell, 2000), p.18.

[42] Report of the Labour Department, 1938-39 (Accra, 1939), pp.14-15.

[43] James, The Rise & Fall of the British Empire, p.510.

[44] Hamilton, War Bush, p.32.

[45] James, The Ride & Fall of the British Empire, p.510.

[46] Nunneley, Tales from the King’s African Rifles, p.35.

[47] Imperial War Museum, 97/2/1 6275, Fadoyebo.

[48] N. A. Wynn, ‘The Impact of the Second World War on the American Negro’ Journal of Contemporary History, Vol.6, No.2 (1971), p.49.

[49] BBC WW2 People’s War, A7473684, K. Potter, Staff Job East Africa Command (Aug 1942 – Jan 1943).

[50] Hamilton, War Bush, p.46.

[51] James, The Rise & Fall of the British Empire, p.510.

[52] Hamilton, War Bush, p.47.

[53] Rayment, Temporary Gentlemen, p.47.

[54] Imperial War Museum, London, 99/77/1 8546, Dr FRCS Bullock.

[55] Hamilton, War Bush, p.48.

[56] Ibid.

[57] Hamilton, War Bush, p.49.

[58] Imperial War Museum, K 90/886, Catternach.

[59] Imperial War Museum, London, 94/2441, Sudan Star, 25th April, 1945.

[60] P. Turnbull, Battle of the Box (London: Ian Allan, 1979), p.82.

[61] Hamilton, War Bush, p.121.

[62] Ibid., p.122

[63] Turnbull, Battle of the Box, p.6.

[64] Imperial War Museum, London, 94/2441, The Empire At War, Department of Information, Accra, 25th April, 1945.

[65] Imperial War Museum, 99/77/1 8546, Bullock.

[66] Hamilton, War Bush, p.111.

[67] Hamilton, War Bush, Appendix C ‘Casualties in Action – Kaladan’, p.355.

[68] Ibid.

[69] Imperial War Museum, 99/77/1 8546, Bullock.

[70] Hamilton, War Bush, p.261.

[71] B. Bandele, Burma Boy (London: Jonathan Cape, 2007), p.70.

[72] D. Rooney, Wingate and the Chindits (London: Cassell, 1994), p.172.

[73] Ibid., p.173.

[74] Ibid.

[75] P. Vaughan, Diary of the Operations of 7th Battalion The Nigeria Regiment, Imperial War Museum.

[76] Thompson, War in Burma, p.270.

[77] Ibid.

[78] Hamilton, War Bush, p.197.

[79] COI, The Campaign in Burma (London: His Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1946), p.128.

[80] D. Fraser, And We Shall Shock Them (London: Cassell, 2002), p.308.

[81] Hamilton, War Bush, p.202.

[82] Hamilton, War Bush, p.208.

[83] Ibid., p.210.

[84] Rayment, Temporary Gentlemen, p.63.

[85] Hamilton, War Bush, p.197.

[86] Rayment, Temporary Gentlemen, p.63.

[87] Ibid., p.61.

[88] Imperial War Museum, London, 94/2441, Phoenix, March 17th, 1945.

[89] Imperial War Museum, 94/2441, Article by a West African Forces Observer.

[90] Hamilton, War Bush, p.244.

[91] Imperial War Museum, London, 4383, Major General H. Stockwell, p.336.

[92] Hamilton, War Bush, p.260.

[93] Imperial War Museum, London, 82/15/1, Sir P. Christison, Life and Times of General Sir Philip Christison: an Autobiography, 1986.

[94] Hamilton, War Bush, p.257.

[95] Imperial War Museum, London, 94/2441, Delhi Statesman, 27th February, 1945.

[96] Lord L. Mountbatten, Message From The Supreme Allied Commander, South East Asia Command, 26th July, 1945.

[97] Nunneley, Tales from the King’s African Rifles, p.125.

[98] Col. M. Hickey, The Unforgettable Army (Tunbridge Wells: Book Club Associates, 1992), p.199.

[99] Thompson, War in Burma, p.223.

[100] Imperial War Museum, London, 94/2441, Calcutta Statesman, 16th April, 1945.

[101] Hamilton, War Bush, p.342

[102] Thompson, War in Burma, p.85.

[103] Hamilton, War Bush, p.345.