WW2: Burma to Japan with Azad Hind

Excerpt from Burma to Japan with Azad Hind

Ramesh Benegal, recipent of the Maha Vir Chakra, was born in Burma and was seventeen when the Japanese captured British-occupied Burma. He tells this extraordinary, first-person story of his career with the Indian National Army in Burma and Japan in the year from 1941 to 1945

Our first impression—and it turned out to be a lasting one—was that the people in Kyushu were quite different from the Japanese we had encountered in the occupied territories of Burma, Malaya and the Philippines.
They were so refined, polite and gentle that one could not associate them with the rough, abusive front-line soldiers of the Japanese army. The naval officers were a cut above the army soldiers, probably because only the more educated in Japan joined the navy. Another aspect which caught our eye was the cleanliness of the town, the streets, the neat Japanese-style houses and the well-laid-out parks. We also noticed that, although this was a large town, there were hardly any restaurants, and the shelves in the large number of shops were bare. Japan had already started to tighten its belt and every necessity of life was now being rationed under central control.

We stayed in a hotel for a day and were kitted out with breeches-like trousers tied at the ankles, boots and a woolen coat to protect us against the weather which was fast turning cold.

The next morning, we boarded the train which was to take us to Tokyo and the Preparatory School. The train passed through lovely countryside and we were filled with wonder when it went through a long tunnel under the sea.

We had heard so much about Tokyo and were not disappointed when we arrived there. The bustling city had one of the best local train systems in the world. We were told that we could set our watches by the times when these trains arrived and left. All signboards were in Japanese and although we were conversant with the language by now and knew how to read Katakana, the basic entry-level alphabet, we could not understand a single notice.

The representatives of the batch which had gone before us were part of the reception committee which greeted us on arrival, and we were happy to meet some of our own for a change. They gave us contradictory reports on life in the Preparatory School, known as Koa Do Gakuin, and we did not know which version to believe—the good one or the bad one.

When we reached the school, we were formally received by the housemaster, who was responsible for our physical training and discipline. He looked grim and spoke through the side of his mouth. After his welcome speech, we were allotted rooms. Mine was on the ground floor right next to the entrance to the building. The room looked warm enough with a bed on one side, a cupboard at the other end and a writing table and chair against the only window. Getting a room to oneself after what we had been through was the height of luxury. But little did we know that the timetable of this Borstal-like institute would hardly give us any time in our rooms.The school itself was set in very picturesque surroundings. It consisted of three blocks in a truncated ‘U’. Our block had fifty rooms, 25 on the ground floor and an equal number on the first floor. The middle part of the ‘U’ had the classrooms and a large dining room, while the other part of the ‘U’ had about 20 rooms which housed a group of eight cadets from Thailand. They were not only indisciplined but also very rude to the school authorities. They never attended classes, never came to PT sessions and perpetually fussed about the food and the quality of medical attention. Although they were so close to our billets, we were quite clearly segregated from them. I was unable to understand why their country had sent them here. They only ended up making their lives miserable—and everyone else’s as well.

We were given a day to rest and recuperate from our journey and then the routine started. Reveille at five in the morning, a three-mile run to a park in the vicinity, a fifteen-minute halt and a run back to school; then a five-minute break followed by ten minutes’ PT, all this in temperatures below zero, and on occasions even when it was snowing. We had half an hour for ablutions and then breakfast consisting of a bowl of rice and a bowl of shiru. As a special case, we were given a bottle of pasteurised milk. We loved this. Then we had classes until noon. Lunch was a repetition of the earlier meal and was sometimes supplemented with fish. After this, we had classes until four. Then a cup of Japanese tea without sugar. (Sugar was such a rare commodity that a couple of teaspoons of it were served once a year on Emperor Meiji’s birthday with that day’s tea.) Then we changed into our PT kit and had compulsory games until six, a half-hour break for a change of clothes, dinner at 6.30—a repetition of the morning menu, sometimes embellished by pickled radish. We had compulsory study under supervision until eight and then it was lights off at ten.

The two hours after study were the only time we could call our own and were spent in chat and making friends within the group. Sundays were free after the morning run and PT, but we had to spend a lot of time washing our clothes and keeping our rooms spotlessly clean for the next day’s inspection. Booking out was not allowed and any visit out was only in groups and under supervision. The only entertainment we enjoyed was skating (without skates!), whenever the pond in front of the main building froze.

When we lost Bishan Singh that fateful day, our number had been reduced by one. To make up the intended number of 45, a new cadet called Aktar Ahmed was chosen and sent to join us. It was good to have him.



There were a few flatterers who would visit the housemaster and his wife when they were free in the evening and listen to his tiresome sermons. It was strongly recommended that we take turns to attend these meetings. It was only after I went a few times that I realised that there was a good side to these visits. The housemaster’s wife would serve us green tea and things to eat, and this made a change from the meagre food we were served in the school. The hard part was sitting for an hour and pretending to listen to the housemaster’s stories. He was well-meaning, though.

A Japanese film division group visited us and filmed our activities at the school. It was something like ‘A day in the life of a foreign cadet’. The film was shot in colour and when it was shown to us, we could not believe that it was us or that it was our school. Everything looked grand in colour. Even the dining scene with the food spread on the table looked like a banquet.

Netaji’s Visit

One day we heard the good news that Netaji was arriving in Tokyo and that he would be visiting us. Well before he arrived, we started to spruce up. The school was given a fresh coat of paint, our uniforms were checked and rechecked; rooms were turned inside out and scrubbed. The classrooms and the dining room took on a new look and all the staff went about their work nervously in case something went wrong.

The great day came at last. Netaji had come to Tokyo two days before that to address the Japanese Diet and fulfil some other engagements, but he made time to visit us. We were very proud and grateful.

He appeared at the school at the scheduled time in the morning and was received by the Principal and introduced to the staff. We were made to stand in front of our rooms as Netaji had expressed his wish to meet each of us individually. We all had photographs of Netaji in the INA uniform in our rooms and took the golden opportunity of having them autographed by him. Signing forty-five photographs on a visit like this was time-consuming, but he did it patiently and with a smile.

Netaji spent at least two minutes with each cadet and asked about each one’s welfare. When he came to my room he astounded me by telling me that my brother Sumitra was in the Rangoon Headquarters and was quite well. He then asked me if I had received any letters from him and when I replied that no one had written me any letters, he said that he would remind Sumitra to write to me. He then signed my photograph and moved on to the next room.



I have since held responsible posts as a commanding officer and I know what it means to an individual when a superior officer remembers his name and anything about his family. I also know that there is an art to it, and that the officer is briefed before he goes on an inspection. But whether or not one has been briefed, remembering details about 45 diverse cadets from different places and levels, and to say something personal to each one, was very special. All great leaders are supposed to have or to have acquired this ability and grace, but Netaji’s memory for faces and names amazed us all. It is one of the greatest qualities of a true commander.Netaji then went round the school premises, while we hurriedly assembled in our classroom for a mock session. When he entered, cadets who were more fluent with Japanese than the majority were asked pre-set questions which they answered with great flourish and fluency. After this, we gathered in the dining room for lunch, and could not believe our eyes. We just stared at the feast before us. There was meat, fish, and fruit in large quantities. They also had puris, something we had not seen for as long as we could remember, pickles and papad, all these to add an Indian touch. Many of us must have thought that to have even a small part of this food every other day would be wonderful.
Soon Netaji arrived, and the meal began. We ate without halt and the food was delicious. After the meal, Netaji stood up and addressed the gathering. After thanking the Japanese government for accepting the responsibility of training cadets of the Azad Hind government, he thanked the Principal and the staff of the Preparatory School, but he also had a shrewd dig at them. The lunch, he said, was splendid, but it was apparent that it was as it was because of his visit. He added that, notwithstanding the difficulty in getting food provisions in wartime conditions, he expected us to be served a wholesome meal on normal days. He left it at that, hoping that the school authorities would take up the cue.

Netaji then addressed the rest of the talk to us, stressing that our aim should be to derive the highest benefit from the training we were receiving so that we could excel ourselves when we entered the military academies. He said that he realized that we were put to a lot of hardship but assured us that it would help us in the long run.
He went on to say that if we wanted anything from home, meaning Burma and Malaya, he would be able to send it to us. He ended the speech by saying that he would write to us soon and would probably be visiting Japan again, very soon. After bidding us farewell, he and his entourage left. We were all presented a 6-inch-by-8-inch photograph of Netaji autographed by him as a memento of his visit.

We returned to routine in the school the next day and we were once again served the same standard fare of rice and shiru. As Netaji had promised, each of us received a letter, signed by him and written the day he left the shores of Japan. This is the letter.

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ARZI HUKUMATE AZAD HIND
(The Provisional Government of Free India)

Fukuoka

29.11.44

My dear boys,

On the eve of my taking off from this soil of Nippon, I want to send you my love and good wishes for the success of your work. I have no son of my own, but you are to me more than my own son because you have dedicated your life to the cause which is the one and only goal in my life—the freedom of ‘Bharat Mata’. I am confident that you will always remain true to the ‘cause’ and to ‘Bharat Mata’.

I am sorry I could not see you again before I left, but you know that I am always with you in spirit.

God bless you,

JAI HIND!

(sd) Subhas Chandra Bose

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The letter moved us deeply. Most of my colleagues got letters from home in the monthly post. But this was the first and the only letter I received in those years from anyone, and I treasured it. People may think it was only a letter but it was a great event in my life.

After Netaji’s visit, we moved into a dull period with the normal routine of the Preparatory School curriculum. The only excitement was our first glimpse of a B-29 reconnaissance aircraft flying solo over Tokyo. Another afternoon we watched two Japanese fighter planes engage a lone B-29. They looked like two Pekinese dogs attacking a huge mastiff. The B-29 tried its best to dodge the attackers by twisting and rolling, but an accurate burst of cannon fire must have hit some vital part of the aircraft, and with a mighty explosion it went down. We did not notice any parachute and presumed that the crew must have gone down with the plane. The crowd of Japanese around us clapped and shouted ‘Banzai!’ in elation.

When we moved into our last session in the Preparatory School, the authorities realised that we had never been taken out on a holiday, so to make amends they planned a visit to Hokkaido. It was already the height of winter and we thought they were taking things a bit too far, arranging a holiday in the coldest part of Japan, But it was probably the best holiday we ever had. In some parts of Hokkaido, the snowfall is so heavy that houses have two storeys. When the snowfall is at its severest, the ground floor is sealed by several feet of snow and one can walk out of the upper storey directly onto the street! Lakes are also frozen solid and we witnessed army-tank manoeuvres on one of the larger ones.

We were accommodated in heated homes, and were honoured guests at the inter-school sports held on a frozen lake. The agility with which these young children skated on the ice stirred our instant admiration. We were also invited to try our hand at ice-skating—or should I say bottom, since without exception we all landed on our bottom, much to the amusement of the children.

We chatted with these rosy-cheeked children aged five to twelve, and discovered that their knowledge was restricted to their home country and its propaganda. Nippon is the strongest country in the world; the greatest is Tenno Heika, the Emperor; Eikoku and Beikoku (America and Britain) are very bad countries and they have lost the war; India? Don’t know where it is. These were some of the stock answers to our questions. All the children without exception were in great good health and were treated with genuine affection by their teachers. It was an unusual sight to see them commute to school on skis, while the little ones were pushed forward in sleds by the older children. We spent five days here, visiting all the scenic spots and holiday resorts. We then returned to our drab Prep School. It was like coming away from fairyland back to prison. The course of our life at the school went on without any more red-letter days and, as the year drew to a close, it was a relief when we completed our training there.

Ramesh Benegal with his fellow students of the Preparatory School in Tokyo

Zen Sama please give link.

The Selection Process

The next pilots’ course at the Imperial Japanese Air Force Officers Academy (called the Koku Shrkan Gakko) was to commence soon, and for the first time in Japanese air force history, the government agreed to admit ten foreign cadets into its hallowed precincts. Volunteers who were prepared to undergo the tough selection process were invited from amongst the 45 of us. It surprised an aviation buff like me that only 25 opted for the air force. The rest were keen to join the prestigious Imperial Japanese Army Academy which had trained such eminent soldiers as Chiang Kai Shek and many an army commander of other southeast Asian countries.

I had of course opted for the air force and hoped fervently that I would be selected. The 25 of us were asked to report to the Selection Centre at the unearthly hour of six in the morning. I have since undergone our own Air Force Selection Board procedures but the Japanese method was unique and time-saving, possibly because it was wartime and one could not select candidates at leisure.
By the time the day arrived for appearing before the Selection Board, a few boys had withdrawn their names. This was the result of intense indoctrination by the Army Academy enthusiasts among us. Close friends did not want to be separated and the more dominating one decided the issue of which line to pursue.

On the appointed day, just 22 of us reported at the imposing building which housed the Air Force Selection Committee. It was a four-storeyed building and when we entered the main foyer, we found a number of Japanese men already waiting to be called in. However we were given precedence.

We were each given a large sheet of paper on which squares were drawn with numbers signifying the rooms we would have to go to for the many tests. We went from room to room for these tests—eyesight, a colour blindness test, hearing, chest x-ray and so on, thus concluding the medical part of the examination. This, I realise now, is a very sensible move because if a candidate has a medical defect he can be eliminated in the initial stage.

Once the medical formalities were completed and our sheets of papers stamped and signed in the appropriate squares, we were directed to the first floor. Here we went from room to room, undergoing tests for mental calculation, speed of the eye-reflex and other reflexes, and all the usual tests conducted in selection center the world over. At 12.30 there was an hour’s break for lunch. Then on to the third floor for another series of tests. One of the interesting tests was a revolving chair in which the candidate was strapped and blindfolded. When the chair revolved at high speed, he was instructed to raise or lower his arms. Then the revolving was stopped, the blindfold removed and the candidate was asked to walk towards the examiner. It was amusing to see us perform. There was even one instance where a boy started screaming and had to be helped out of the room. I am still not sure what this disorientation test proved, because one or two who had been completely disoriented were selected all the same.

The fourth and last floor had the pilot aptitude battery tests. These were similar to the ones used even today in our IAF selection boards. By six in the evening, all of us had completed the programme and our sheets of paper looked very much like completed crossword puzzles. Then we had the interview by the Board. Only general questions were asked, probably to assess our proficiency in the language. We were then asked to wait in the hall. It was a long and anxious wait and it was nine when a member of the Board came in and announced the names of the ten successful candidates. Pronouncing Indian names is a difficult proposition for most foreigners and it was more so in this case. He had to repeat our names twice or thrice before we knew who he was referring to.

Pilots from the Imperial Japanese Army Air Force Academy

I was delighted when he called out my name and I said a silent prayer of thanks. The ten selected were, Dasan, Narayanan, Ranjit Das, Menon, Karmakar, Doraiswamy Sharma, Karuppiah, Bimol Deb and I.
Of these, the first three ended up as senior executive pilots in Air India, Menon as a pilot in Indian Airlines, Karmakar flew for a company in Jamshedpur, Doraiswamy became an influential figure in Madras and Sharma a senior executive in an insurance company in Singapore. When I last heard of him, Bimol Deb had joined the Burmese Navy. I was the only one who joined the Indian Air Force when the War ended.
Many of those rejected felt their disappointment deeply. My close friend from Burma, Gandhi Das, did not get in. But he was of a philosophic bent of mind and took it in his stride. It was I who missed him deeply.

We parted company with the 25 who were entering the Army Academy with the assurance that we would seek to meet each other at every opportunity. We didn’t know then that except for a brief get-together, there would be no contact with them until after the War.

Our entrance into the Japanese Air Force Academy caused immense curiosity among the inhabitants. No foreign cadets had ever been trained there before us, and the senior cadets were not sure how they should treat us. We were grateful for this mercy because it turned out that the concept of discipline in the Japanese training centres was quite different from what we would consider normal. This was the case with the Japanese army as well.

To give you an idea of how things run—a junior batch of fresh entrants is considered the lowest form of animal life and is treated as such until the members become seniors. Juniors are fair game for senior cadets and members of the staff. They are punished for the smallest infringement. Whereas in our and other academies, a senior can upbraid a junior for being improperly dressed, for example, or for not standing at attention when talked to, all he has the authority to do is shout at him and report him to the officer concerned. But this was not so in the Japanese Military Academy.

In the Academy, the junior cadet spends his first few months saluting every senior cadet irrespective of the time, place or the number of times he has walked past him.
For the infringement of not receiving a salute, the senior is entitled to call him, upbraid him without using abusive language and then thrash him. The junior is constrained to stand stiffly at attention even when his face is being battered and hold a stoic face without the least sign of tears. I do not think that in any other country this sort of treatment is tolerated. I have already described what a Kempae-Tai policeman can do to an officer for any action he considers is misbehavior.





Although we were supposed to be part of the 59th batch, we were different in that we had separate living quarters and messing arrangements, and our training was independent of theirs. A Captain Kato was in sole charge of us and practically lived with us. A sergeant (termed Sochodono) was his helper and he also stayed with us. We were, quite surprisingly, required to salute only the officers and had no command over the senior cadets. As the first foreigners in the establishment, we were undoubtedly given preferential treatment and did not have to undergo the indignity of being slapped by anyone.

Unfortunately, this was not so in the Army Academy where our brother cadets were admitted. This Academy was quite accustomed to having foreign cadets of various nationalities and therefore treated all of them the same way. We heard that a few of our boys were slapped by their seniors. Sadly, when the batch junior to them arrived, they ‘paid them back’.

As junior officer cadets, our rank-badges consisted of a collar tab with a solitary metal star. Our uniform consisted of the standard Japanese one of breeches, puttees, a thick woolen coat and heavy army boots. In other words, we were considered officer cadets in the rank of lance corporal. We had regular PT, rifle drill, and we always went to classes on the double. When we marched in a column, we had to goose-step every time we saluted a passing officer. Despite the freezing temperatures and the abundance of snow, we carried out our PT bare-bodied and literally sweated it out each time! It is really a credit to the tough training we received that not one of us reported sick throughout our stay at the Academy. Not even a common cold, believe it or not.

Krate M said:

Zen San please give link.

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Burma to Japan with Azad Hind-II

The first two months of our training were devoted to toughening us up and putting us through ground subjects such as the principles of flight, meteorology, aero-engines and some Japanese military history and literature.
There were extensive classes held on the various arms and ammunition and drill with the Japanese sword which is the hallmark of an officer. We were taught kendo, the art of sword fighting and there were competitions organised among us.

The daily routine was fairly similar to that of the Preparatory School, but the going was ten times as tough. After having undergone this kind of strenuous training, the routine at the Indian Air Force Academy was honestly a piece of cake.

Community bathing was allowed only a once a week at the Academy baths, and was a special occasion for us. Most Indians are accustomed to daily baths and we had to get used to this change. Admittedly it was terribly cold, and we were not unduly keen to undress to have a bath. But once we relaxed in the steaming bath, we just did not want to get out of it.

We were served reasonable helpings of food, but it was the same unpolished rice with bowls of shiru. This was supplemented with boiled or fried fish or octopus meat, a few vegetables and the now favourite daicon or pickled radish. We acquired a taste for it and forgot how it smelt the first time we were served it on the ship. We had three meals a day and the menu stayed unchanged. This was also the first time that any of us had tasted octopus meat. It was awful, it tasted and felt like chewing gum. The best food was fish. Because we now had quantities of food and generous portions, we were not hungry in the way we had been at the School, but our palates had undoubtedly lost a sense of taste. Daicon was so unlike the radish we were used to in Burma and Malaya. These radishes were very large, about the size of a leg of mutton. We were told this growth was achieved because they made copious use of human manure in the farms.

By the third month of our training, things started to look up. We started learning the art of gliding. Because there was a need to conserve fuel during the war, training was initially restricted to the use of gliders to give the new recruit an introduction to learning the technique of landing an aircraft. We were required to carry out 34 landings each before graduating on to the power-driven aircraft, the Aka Tombo.





In the initial stages, gliding was extremely hard work. The glider was held fast by a rope tied to a stake in the ground. The front end was hooked to two long elastic ropes; eight of us pulled this rope until it was stretched fully. Then the ninth let go the restraining cord at the back, and the tenth, who was in the seat of the open cockpit glider, took off and was airborne. Pressing a pedal released the hook of the elastic ropes and enabled us to execute a landing.
One day our sergeant who had been watching us for months, thought that the whole thing was easy and he decided to have a go at flying a glider. He almost killed himself. He had no idea of the controls and when he got airborne he took off vertically, rose twenty-five feet and then came crashing down. He was lucky not to have sustained any serious injury, but the glider was a write-off. The man got into serious trouble for this unauthorized flight.




Japanese glider

@levina @Nihonjin1051 @AUSTERLITZ

Air Raids Begin

It was during the final stages of our gliding course that the first of the heavy air raids started. Initially they were restricted to night raids only, which meant that we spent the major part of the night in the underground shelters.
This was torture as far as we concerned. As soon as the air raid warning sounded we had to get out of our warm beds and our four-blanket covers, change into our uniforms (not forgetting to tie the puttees) grab our rifles and rush out into the bitter sub-zero cold—and all this in pitch darkness. However, when the frequency of the raids increased in the later stages, this became routine and most of us could have done it in our sleep.

Strategic bombing of the Japanese mainland was a difficult proposition for the United States in the early phase of the War, mainly because of the distance from their air bases. After mid-1944, the Americans managed, step by step, to recapture the island bases of Guam, Saipan and Tinian. Distance was still a problem. Then in early 1945, the Marianas became their main airbase as the tide slowly turned in favour of the Americans, and more and more island territories were captured by them. Another factor in their favour was the amazing capability and capacity of the American aircraft industry. It was recorded after the War that nearly 2,000 B-29 aircraft were required to keep about 550 of them in the air at a time. And I am an eyewitness to the fact that they did send more than that number in raids over Japan.

The B-29 Super Fortress was a beauty to look at as it flew gracefully on its deadly missions, bristling with gun turrets in its tail, belly and topside. We were witness to many a Japanese fighter being shot out of the sky when it went closer to an intercept, but very soon the Japanese pilots must have devised new attack techniques, because we now saw the reverse. We witnessed a lone B-29 bomber being hounded by a pack of tiny-looking fighters and it went down in flames. This happened many times. It was only when the B-29s started coming en masse, escorted by large numbers of naval fighters from the US Navy aircraft carriers, that the air superiority of the Americans became an established fact. This was in the final stages of the War.

Boeing B-29 Super Fortress


Until March 1945, all American air raids were directed mainly at industrial and defense targets, and life in the cities was normal. But on 9 March, a night to remember with sadness, wave after wave of B-29 bombers attacked the capital Tokyo, and to their everlasting shame, dropped many thousands of incendiaries in the most densely populated areas of the city. It created intense havoc among the poor civilians.
Tokyo Radio reported large-scale deaths and injuries as the people were not prepared for such attacks. Not satisfied with the gargantuan killing of innocent civilians, more such raids followed till the end of the May that year.

B-29's delivering their payloads over Japan

Between March and May, Tokyo Radio reported that over 750,000 dwellings had been destroyed (it must be remembered that most of the houses were made of wood and paper) and over 3 million people made homeless. All this in Tokyo alone. They did the same in Nagoya, Yokohama, Kobe, Osaka and other cities. There is a saying that everything is fair in love and war, but this was impossible to understand and forgive. Of course the ultimate infamy was the use of the atom bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but we will come to that later.

On 9 March and on subsequent occasions when the fires raged at night over Tokyo, we who were well north of the place could still see the fiery glow at night. Twenty years later, in 1965, I had an opportunity to see some of these raids in an actual war film from the US Air Force library at Randolph Airforce Base in San Antonio, Texas, where I had been sent by the Indian Air Force to undergo the Instrument Pilot Instructors’ Course. Even to those pilots dropping the incendiary bombs, the sight must have been horrific. It was just a case of dropping a shower of incendiaries in a concentrated area and the waves of aircraft which followed just carried on from there in carpet-bombing fashion.

To get back to our lives in the Academy, life slowly became hell. It was a normal routine in the day and sleepless nights in the underground shelter. We were at the stage of having completed our glider training and eagerly awaited the training with power-driven aircraft that was soon to begin.

For some reason that I don’t recollect now, we had not booked out of camp for months. We were allowed out once a month on a Sunday, but escorted by the captain and his men to secluded parks or hillsides. It was more like an organised picnic. The Japanese countryside is beautiful and clean. There is no barren area at all as every piece of arable land is utilised to the full to grow fruit, staple crop and vegetables. But the Japanese used human manure as fertilizer and the problem with walking through a beautiful field was the pervasive stench.

One Sunday, our captain decided to take us to his house. On the way there in the local train, there was an air raid. The train stopped and all the passengers scrambled into the fields and lay flat on the ground. We followed. A US naval carrier-based aircraft carried out a pass on the train with its front-gun and pulled away.

There was no second attack as either the fighter had run out of ammunition or was short of fuel. The passengers calmly boarded the train and we resumed our journey and reached our destination. It was as if nothing had happened. The Americans admitted after the War that in spite of the large-scale raids and bombing carried out by them, the Tokyo train service never fell below 40 per cent of its normal capacity.

On another occasion, we were invited to an event at the Indian Independence League Headquarters in Tokyo. We were very excited about the trip as it would be a break from the routine of the Academy. Accompanied by our Sergeant, we left by train for this place which was situated in the heart of Tokyo. The event itself was not very interesting, but it afforded an opportunity to meet some of the local Indians.

When it was over and as we were walking to the nearest tube station, there was an air raid. We had no time to run for shelter. As soon as we heard the rattle of guns and the noise of bombs exploding nearby, we just flattened ourselves on the pavement, and not a moment too soon, as it turned out. Bimal Deb was a little late taking cover and yelled out that he had been hit. He was taken to the hospital at the Academy, and they found a tiny piece of shrapnel embedded in his thigh. He underwent an operation and the offending piece was removed. He kept the piece as a memento, but it was so small that one needed a magnifying glass to view it. It is amazing that this was the only injury suffered by any of us during all this massive bombing and strafing that took place in our part of town. I guess we were just lucky.

Krate M said:

Zen Sama please give link.

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Manoeuvres and Other Exercises

We were very keen to visit the Army Academy and enjoy a reunion with our army colleagues, but it never materialised. Instead, seven of them visited us at the Academy, and we had an interesting time exchanging experiences. Some of the stories they told us were most amusing. It appears that when they were on manoeuvres, one of the exercises entailed that they make their own way back to a rendezvous, successfully avoiding ‘the enemy’. One unlucky cadet, whom I shall not name, fell into a sewage storage pit in the fields. He yelled for help from his comrades, but no one was willing to lend him a hand as he was covered in sewage from head to toe. He somehow managed to haul himself out of the pit, successfully evaded ‘the enemy’ (no enemy soldier wanted to capture him in this state!) and reached the ‘rendezvous’ safely, only to be reprimanded by the officer and punished for the state of his uniform and the condition of his rifle

We did have a hearty laugh over this episode, but I can quite imagine what he must have gone through. He scrubbed and cleaned himself thoroughly and wore a new uniform but his so-called friends reportedly kept a safe distance from him for two or three days until the incident was forgotten.

The other stories they told us were about how they were slapped by their seniors for not saluting properly, and how, now that they were seniors, some of them had meted out the same treatment to their juniors. They were surprised and envious of us when they saw how well we were being treated at the Air Force Academy. A few days prior to their visit they had been promoted to full-corporal rank and now sported two stars on their collar tabs. So they were superior to us on this count. Though we were extremely jealous at this developement, in two months’ time, we too were given two stars—though there was no one to show these off to!

Life in the Academy had its peaceful side. Adjacent to our barracks, which was last in a row of buildings, there was a flower-hedged lawn with a Japanese arch or gate at one end. This was an open-air Shinto temple, and cadets of many different religions went there to pray. The nice thing about the temple was that except for the arch, there were no idols, no incense burning, no priest and no preaching. We were regular visitors here when we were free in the evenings



A Shinto Shrine


Towards the end of our first term in the Academy, we were required to go on a three-day trek, with full pack and rifle, and live off the hospitality of villagers we encountered en-route. This was the last major exercise which concluded the first phase of our training. The second term was devoted entirely to flying and to technical subjects connected with flying.

Just before we went on our trek, we decided to practice our sword drill. For some reason, perhaps because we had not slept much the night before because of a long-drawn air raid, the drill was not going too well. The Captain was frustrated and made us repeat each exercise several times over. At every attempt, at least one of us would make a silly mistake and spoil the joint effort. The Captain was red in the face and was just waiting to vent his anger on someone when suddenly he saw his opportunity. A junior cadet happened to pass by just then. The cadet had probably never seen foreign cadets before, so he stood to stare at us and forgot to salute. Apart from the fact that he should have saluted us since we were his seniors now, he had failed to salute a full-blown Captain, and he definitely could not be ignored.

The Captain, who was already near boiling point, exploded. He shouted at the cadet to stop staring at us, walked up to him and slapped him on both sides of his face with such force that his face started to bleed. He then harangued with him for a couple of minutes and then made him march past us twice and salute us. All of us felt very sorry for the cadet. If the Captain had done this to impress us, we thought, he was thoroughly mistaken. All of us felt only disgust at his violent behavior. The Captain soon realized this and strode out to his room, leaving the Sergeant to conclude our exercise session.

A Three-day Adventure

On the day we started out on the three-day manoeuvre, we were given a rectangular wood-framed rucksack each. It contained our rations, clothes, blankets and ammo. Whoever designed and manufactured these rucksacks must have been a sadist. Apart from the fact that they were very uncomfortable when strapped to our backs, the sharp edges of the frame cut through our clothes and lacerated our backs and shoulders. The pack weighed only about 25 lb, but in the space of two hours, we felt as if it weighed a ton, and with each step or movement, the edges cut in deeper. So much for the rucksacks.
The first part of the trip was on even terrain, but by afternoon we realised that we had to cross a small hill to get over to the other side. The climb was steep and there wasn’t much of a path. When we did reach the top, we were surprised to find a monastery there and near it a large statue of Buddha carved from a single piece of stone. We asked the head monk how such a large and heavy statue had been brought all the way up. He didn’t know, and said, vaguely, that it happened long ago and the people must have used ropes and tackle..

We rested there for a while before making the descent, and in the early hours of the evening, we reached our first village. Our instructions were that we were to separate into twos and walk into any of the village houses, explain to the villagers who we were and ask for shelter for the night.


We followed these orders and two of us entered a small farmhouse. It had a courtyard, a well and a barn which also housed a bath. The Air Force Academy had been in existence for years, and all the villages around had been accustomed to cadets coming to the villages on their manoeuvres and inviting themselves in for the night. So this family was happy to entertain us, the more so because we were foreign cadets, and we were Indians from the land of Buddha. It was typical of Japanese custom and hospitality that the farmer asked his whole family to come out and meet us, and each one was introduced to us with a lot of bowing on both sides. The woman of the house then went to prepare the bath for us. We had been told that because there were shortages in the country, we should share our dry rations with the families when they prepared our meal. The family in this house refused to accept our rations, but we insisted that they did and told them those were our orders.


After a welcome hot bath, we sat with the men and had green tea. They talked about the War, and were convinced that Japan would win and that everything would be peaceful again. The women had retired to cook the evening meal. By 8.30, we sat round a low table and were served a delicious dinner. The woman of the house made sure that she used all that was grown on their farm, so we had potatoes and vegetables we had not tasted in years. Rice and shiru and the sweet at the end completed the menu. It was only after we had eaten that the family ate. Such was their hospitality.

After this they made our beds, and it was obvious that the best linen in the house had been brought out for our use. In the morning, we were given hot water for a wash, and were served tea and rice balls for breakfast. We thanked our hosts most wholeheartedly and left for the next leg of our trek.

Over the next two days we enjoyed ourselves even more, and as the rations got consumed, our packs became lighter, a great mercy. But by the time we returned to the Academy in anticipation of a well-earned rest, the War situation had changed dramatically.

The island of Iwo Jima had fallen into the hands of the Americans earlier, but Okinawa, the well-defended bastion, held out against the might of the US Navy and the bombing by the US Air Force.
The Americans were however making headway and through their newly acquired air base at Iwo Jima, they were now deploying fighter aircraft to not only escort the B-29 bombers but to carry out strikes on targets in Okinawa and the Kyushu islands.

Japanese Aircraft Wrecks on Iwo Jima

The Kamikaze

To counteract the rapid American advance, a large number of volunteers came forward to join the Kamikaze squad. ‘Kamikaze’ literally translates ‘God-wind’ or ‘the wind sent by God’.

kamikaze squad


The expression and the practice belonged to earlier times, but became famous during the Russia–Japanese War in 1904–05. At one point, the Russian fleet was closing in and was heading for the shores of Japan. We were told that the Japanese had lined up on the shores with spears and bamboo staves in a last-ditch effort to defend the country from intruders, when all of a sudden, a typhoon of very high intensity materialized and wrecked the relatively flimsy craft of the invading Russian fleet, thus saving Japan and ensuring their ultimate victory in the war.


The kamikaze pilots were all voluntary, ready to give up their lives to save their country from defeat. The modus operandi was for them to fly their bomb-laden aircraft directly onto the enemy ships and voluntarily lose their lives in the attack.
Later this process was modified with the ‘baka’ bomb. ‘Baka’ literally means ‘fool’ and to this day, the rejuvenated Japanese defense air force personnel do not approve of the word being used to describe what is still considered one of the glorious chapters of their air force history. They preferred the word ‘ohka’.


Ohka Cherry Blossom Bomber


The ohka was a short-range rocket-assisted aircraft carrying more than a ton of explosives in its nose. The pilot’s controls consisted of only a joystick for elevator and aileron movement and a pair of pedals to operate the rudder and nothing else, not a single instrument. This aircraft was slung under its mother aircraft, a medium bomber, and then directed in a rocket-assisted dive onto the target, by its suicide pilot. The manoeuvre was thought of because of the colossal losses in aircraft when other methods were used. It is now believed that the use of this kamikaze baka bomb might have been more effective if they had heeded the advice of the Japanese technicians who had recommended that a more powerful war-head be used.

Despite this drawback, the kamikaze attacks did extensive damage to the US fleet, and warships of all categories were damaged, including aircraft carriers. Some battleships and destroyers were even sunk. Naturally, this kind of sacrifice by young trained pilots, could not go on forever. One has to admire the selfless courage of these young men who consciously and willingly went to their deaths for their country.

First organized kamikaze attack


One of the unique methods the American Navy employed in trying to evade these kamikaze attacks was setting up a barrage of water-spray operations with powerful pumps and hoses all around the store ship, thus making it difficult for the kamikaze pilot to aim at any vital part when he came in for the final suicide dive.

Those who volunteered to be in the kamikaze squad were treated like heroes. They wore a distinguishing headband imprinted with the rising sun, a sign which marked them out from the others. A few of them lived in the Academy, and I had long conversations with them. They all seemed very certain about their choice of role, and did not show any sign of fear or regret. We regarded them with awe.

A few days prior to their being detailed for the sortie that was to be their final one, they were allowed to have whatever they wanted. Then, for two days, they were segregated from other groups and allowed to meet only their family and close friends. On the final day, they were briefed, said their prayers and took off on the one-way mission.

A mock transport aircraft plane had been assembled near our gliding hangar, and the area was cordoned off. Because of the trees surrounding the area, we could not hear the noise of dummy-rounds being fired and the shouts of ‘Banzai’ (victory). It was much later that we came to know what it was all about. It was a session that only the Japanese in their desperate position could have thought of. A plane carrying highly trained commandos was actually attempting to land on the American Okinawa air base in a lightning suicide attack, trying to destroy as many aircraft as it could on the ground. It is true that years later, Israel did the same at Entebbe, but that was not a world war or a war against a powerful enemy, or at such a well-defended base.
@Nihonjin1051

[IMG]http://www.guns.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/Kamikaze_attack_on_USS_Yorktown.jpg[/IMG]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Book Antiqua][I]Kamikaze attack on the USS Yorktown[/I][/FONT][/SIZE]

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@Lord Zen - Sama ,


Sugoi!!

Nihonjin1051 said:

@Lord Zen - Sama ,
Sugoi!!

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Arigatou

Its interesting , really, to see so much cooperation during the war between the Indian National Army and the Imperial Japanese Army.



General Doihara of the Imperial Army, inspecting a column of Indian National Army troopers



Imperial Army and Indian National Army in jubilation after a victory.
Banzai !

Lord Zen said:

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hehe, Handsome ! He could have been mistaken as any Imperial Pilot !

Nihonjin1051 said:

Its interesting , really, to see so much cooperation during the war between the Indian National Army and the Imperial Japanese Army.

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Azad Hind was indeed indebted for the generous help provided by Imperial Japanese Army even though they never succeed in their attempt to oust British from Indian subcontinent.
Even though INA failed in their attempts to militarily take control of India they succeed in turning the British Indian Army against the Raj thus effectively ending the British dominance of South Asia.

IJA's bonhomie with INA was superficial to say the least.
IJA's atrocities: Homfeyganj massacre,
Japanese occupation of the Andaman Islands - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
IJA was just using INA to fulfill its own imperialist ambitions, and the level of war crimes they committed had no equal. They actually ate PoWs even some from the INA.
Netaji couldn't do anything about the Japanese atrocities but he had no choice.
IJA had to be defeated otherwise India would have fallen from British colonialists to even harsher Japanese colonialists.

And IJA never provided any of the heavy machinery or even trucks for transports, all INA had were men and small arms. IJA had no intention of making INA powerful and lose control over them. Precisely for the same reason, they executed Mohan Singh who IJA thought was getting too strong.

Android said:

corrected for you

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Arigatou gozaimasu

Taj_91 said:

IJA was just using INA to fulfill its own imperialist ambitions, and the level of war crimes they committed had no equal.

Click to expand...

Taj_91 said:

IJA had to be defeated otherwise India would have fallen from British colonialists to even harsher Japanese colonialists.

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Alliance between INA & Imperial Japanese Army was purely a military alliance aimed at achieving common objectives.

Each & every country looks at it's own interests particularly during those days. The Japanese never wanted to invade whole of South Asia on their own as they knew that it was impossible to beat the British-Indian Army numbering in millions. They just wanted to take over Burma & NE India in-order to prevent the allies from giving reinforcements to China.

Netaji knew it. And his main objective was to get Indian army to his side. As long as the Indian Army stayed loyal to the Raj there was no way for Azad Hind + IJA get take control of India.
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