In Burma the British 14th Army, (composed of British, Indian and African troops) continued its progress south into Burma after crossing the Irrawaddy. It was now on the outskirts of the first major town they encountered, Meiktila, where they met stiff Japanese resistance. The strike towards Meiktila was a bold strategic move which was to unbalance the Japanese forces in Burma, cutting them off from their main lines of supply.
On 2nd March General Sir William Slim, commanding 14th Army, decided to visit the front line. After meeting the Divisional Commander in charge of the battle, then listening in to the ‘tank net’ – ‘always an interesting and often a worthwhile thing to to do in an action’ – he went to see the fighting himself:
Assured that the battle was in competent hands at the top, I thought I would go a little closer and see how it was being handled lower down. I chose 48 Brigade as, at the moment, they seemed to be cracking a particularly tough nut.
We went by jeep round the north of the town and then moved forward on foot somewhat more cautiously. We had a word with various subordinate commanders on the way; all very busy with their own little battles and all in great heart.
One of them told us the best place from which to see anything was a massive pagoda that crowned a near-by rise. We reached it along a path screened from the enemy by bushes, and crouching below the surrounding wall, crossed a wide terrace, where already in occupation were were some Indian signallers and observation parties.
Peering cautiously over the wall, we found on our right the end of the North Lake, placid and unruffled. To our left front, about a thousand yards away, the main road entered Meiktila between close-built houses, now crumbling in the dust, smoke, and ﬂame of a bombardment. We were, I knew, about to assault here, but it was the scene immediately below and in front of us which gripped the attention.
The southern shore of the lake, for nearly a mile, ran roughly parallel to the northern edge of the town. Between them was a strip about half a mile wide, of rough, undulating country, cut up by ditches and banks, with here and there clumps of trees and bushes.
Three hundred yards from us, scattered along water cuts, peering round mounds, and lying behind bushes, were twenty or thirty Gurkhas, all very close to the ground and evidently, from the spurts around them, under fairly heavy ﬁre.
Well to the left of these Gurkhas and a little farther forward, there was a small spinney. From its edge more Gurkhas were ﬁring Bren-gun bursts. A single Sherman tank, in a scrub-topped hollow, lay between us and the spinney, concealed from the enemy but visible to us. In the intervals of ﬁring, we could hear its engine muttering and grumbling. The dispositions of our forces, two platoons and a tank, were plain enough to us, but I could see no enemy.
Then the tank revved up its engine to a stuttering roar, edged forward a few yards, ﬁred a couple of shots in quick succession, and discreetly withdrew into cover again. I watched the strike of the shot. Through my glasses I coﬁd see, about ﬁve hundred yards away, three low grassy hummocks innocent enough they looked, and little different from half a dozen others.
Yet straining my eyes I spotted a dark loophole in one, around which hung the misty smoke of a hot machine-gun; I could hear the knock-knock-knock, slower than our own, of its ﬁring. Searching carefully, I picked up loopholes in the other mounds. Here were three typical Japanese bunkers, impervious to any but the heaviest shells, sited for all-round defence, and bristling with automatics – tough nuts indeed.
The tank intervened again. Without shifting position it lobbed two or three grenades and a white screen of smoke drifted across the front of the bunkers. One of the Gurkhas below us sprang to his feet, waved an arm, and the whole party, crouch- ing as they went, ran forward.
When the smoke blew clear a minute or two later, they were all down under cover again, but a hundred yards nearer those bunkers. A few small shells burst in the water at the lake’s edge. Whether they were meant for the tank or the Gurkhas, they got neither, and the enemy gunners made no further contribution.
When I looked for it again, the tank had disappeared, but a smoke-screen, this time, I think, from infantry mortars, blinded the bunkers again. The Gurkhas scrambled forward, dodging and twisting over the rough ground, until some of them must have been hardly thirty yards from the enemy. Somewhere behind the spinney, the tank was slowly and methodically ﬁring solid shot at the loopholes. Spurts of dust and debris leapt up at every impact.
As the ﬁght drew to its climax, we moved out of the pagoda enclosure to a spot a little forward and to the right where, from behind a thick cactusihedge, we had a clearer view. The tank reappeared round the spinney’s flank and advanced still shooting.
Gradually it worked round to the rear of the bunkers, and suddenly we were in the line of its ﬁre with overs ricochetting and plunging straight at us.
One army commander, one corps commander, an American general, and several less distinguished individuals adopted the prone position with remarkable unanimity.
In a very similar attack to the one described by Slim, a platoon of the Baluch Regiment, Punjabi Muslims, found themselves without their supporting tank. Naik ( Corporal) Fazal Din was to be awarded a posthumous Victoria Cross for his extraordinary actions:
In Burma, on 2nd March, 1945, Naik Fazal Din was commanding a section during a Company attack on a Japanese bunkered position. During this attack, the section found itself in an area flanked by three bunkers on one side and a house and one bunker on the other side. This was the key of the enemy position and had held up a Company attack made earlier. Naik Fazal Din’s section was accompanied by a tank but, at the time of entering the area, it had gone on ahead.
On reaching the area, the section was held up by Light Machine Gun fire and grenades from the bunkers. Unhesitatingly Naik Fazal Din personally attacked the nearest bunker with grenades and silenced it. He then led his section under heavy fire against the other bunkers.
Suddenly six Japanese, led by two officers wielding swords, rushed from the house. The Bren gunner shot one officer and a Japanese other rank but by then had expended the magazine of the gun. He was almost simultaneously attacked by the second Japanese officer who killed him with his sword.
Naik Fazal Din went to the Bren gunner’s assistance immediately but, in doing so, was run through the chest by the officer, the sword point appearing through his back. On the Japanese officer withdrawing his sword, Naik Fazal Din, despite his terrible wound, tore the sword from the officer and killed him with it. He then attacked a Japanese other rank and also killed him.
He then went to the assistance of a sepoy of his section who was struggling with another Japanese and killed the latter with the sword. Then, waving the sword, he continued to encourage his men. He staggered to Platoon Headquarters, about 25 yards away, to make a report and collapsed. He died soon after reaching the Regimental Aid Post.
Naik Fazal Din’s action was seen by almost the whole Platoon who, undoubtedly inspired by his gallantry and taking advantage of the bewilderment created amongst the enemy by the loss of its leaders, continued the attack and annihilated the garrison which numbered 55.
Such supreme devotion to duty, even when fatally wounded, presence of mind and outstanding courage, have seldom been equalled and reflect the unquenchable spirit of a singularly brave and gallant N.C.O