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PERSONAL EXPERIENCES IN THE 7th DIV “ADMIN BOX”
 
4th – 24th FEBRUARY 1944
BY REGINALD W. BAILEY.
 ‘C’ FLIGHT.  656 AIR OP SQUADRON RAF.

 
I was asked by Nobby Clark to set down some account of the siege of the ‘Admin Box in the 7th Indian Division in early 1944, I had some reservations, in the first place I did not think many people would be interested, and in the second it might sound like some sort of line-shooting, however, on reflection I decided it might be worth doing, There may be people, the few that are left who were there, and other members of the Association who would be interested, Therefore I have decided to have a go.
 
There is one thing I must stress before I start.  After nearly 50 years, memory, in particular mine, is very fallible so there may be a great many inaccuracies, it is not so much the events - they are as clear in my mind now as they were then - it is the order of events, the chronology, which is so vague, I would therefore like to apologise in advance to anyone I have misrepresented or have in any way confused with any other person.
 
As far as I remember, we arrived on the Arakan in January 1944, after a long and dusty trek in convoy across the breadth of India, By ‘we’, I mean of course ‘C’ Flight of 656 AOP. Squadron RAF, and I believe we first camped somewhere beyond COX’S Bazaar towards the Nha peninsula. I am not sure how long, but I would think within the next two weeks, a small section of ‘C’ Flight was sent to join the 7th Indian Division on the other side of the Mayu range in preparation for the assault on Buthidaung and presumably an advance towards Akyab,
 
We entered the Ngakyedauk Pass which was little more than a path through the mountains with deep ravines first on one side, then the other, crossed by wooden trestle bridges. It had been little more than a mule track but the army had opened it up to take vehicles and even tanks, We were to be very grateful for those tanks later, Either side of the road was mostly thick jungle and the bottom of the ravines were littered with wrecked vehicles that had gone over, a grim warning to drivers.
 
We emerged from the pass on to a plain with small hills dotted around, which seemed to be covered in thick scrub jungle, We turned north and traveled for a mile or two, on our right in the distance was the Kaladan range and on our left the Mayu range. We were traveling away from the direction of the Japanese and had the comforting thought that 7 Division lay between us and them.
 
I believe there were 7 or 8 of us in the party under the command of Sgt Roe and after a while, found a suitable place for a landing strip, and for Capt Boys to join us. The ground was mostly very flat and it did not take long to prepare the landing strip, where we were subsequently joined by Capt Boys who flew in some time later. How long he remained I am not sure but he did take off again but was quoted as saying, he had “gone to look at the Japs”
 
After he had gone we set about preparing camp and two of us looked at a rocky outcrop of the Mayu range, where there was a stream running down the side, It was our intention to build some sort of a shower or bath there, suitably ducted through bamboo pipes. While we were doing this a party of what appeared to be Burmese approached us, and the leader made himself known as a British officer. He asked who we were and what we were doing, this was because as far as I knew there were noother units within several miles of us. We explained who we were and that we were awaiting the return of our Officer who had flown out on a recognisance, he then told us that there were 800 Japs following him down the valley. They had infiltrated along the Kaladan range, crossed the valley and entered the Mayu range, working their way back towards the Ngakyedauk Pass, This would of course mean that 7th Division was completely encircled and he expected it to be closed within hours, or certainly by tomorrow. He then had a word with Sgt Roe and told us we should wait the return of our Officer and then move to within the defensive positions of the Division. If in the meantime, the Japanese arrived, we should put up what defence we could.
 
He then strode off up the valley to give warning to Div HQ, We then took up our positions on a small hill and waited, It was one of the longest afternoons of my life, What I remember mostly was the heat and the buzzing of the flies and insects, We were straining our eyes up the valley to catch our first sight of the Japanese, but hoping not to, How long we lay there waiting I do not know — it was certainly several hours, The first heartening sight we saw was that of several columns of Sikh Infantry moving slowly up the valley on either side, presumably to meet the Japanese. However, they seemed pitifully inadequate in numbers to face 800 Japanese.
 
After a wait of several hours it was quite obvious that Capt Boys would not be returning to the strip. Either he had met with an accident or perhaps the warning had been passed on and he had landed back at ‘C’ Flight.  We later heard that he had been shot down, but the good news was that the Burmese had brought him in, although he had received serious injuries. I do not remember that we had any radio communication with him, in fact I am sure we did not, otherwise there would have been no uncertainty. However, Sgt Roe decided there was no point in waiting any longer and we packed our trucks and moved back into the 7 Div enclave.
 
We were directed to a small river bed — the actual bed was quite wide with steep cliff—like banks overhanging, but the stream in the centre was very narrow with a sandy beach either side. We parked our trucks close up on the banks, put the camouflage nets over them and were then directed to what we later knew as Ammunition Hill. This hill was perhaps 150 yards long, 30-40 foot high with steep sides and very narrow on the top, almost like a ridge. It was covered with trees and thick jungle, When we got to the top we found that slit trenches had already been dug right along the ridge by previous occupants, either Japanese or our own.
 
The occupants of the hill were a very mixed bag, ourselves, “Kosbies” (Kings Own Scottish Boarder Regt), artillery men without guns, some RAF radar operators who had come back from advance positions, but for the time being we were all infantry. I think at this stage the gravity of our situation had not really penetrated, We knew of course that the Pass was likely to be closed but we did not know that it had been or that it would be. In fact we were far more interested in the situation of getting a meal. As far as I recollect, due to the events of the day, we had had nothing to eat since breakfast, and we were expecting HQ to send some rations across at any time.
 
In the event, they never came, and next morning, or rather the next day, we found out what the extent of our rations was going to be for the next 2/3 weeks. They consisted in the main of two hard biscuits a day and a tablespoon of mushy bully beef. Occasionally this was augmented by the odd ‘Soya Link’.  After a couple of weeks of this we really were starving, I can remember one incident, which perhaps illustrates this. My companion in the slit trench, Tubby Cherrington, found a packet of old biscuits lying in the bushes, presumably discarded during better times. It had been gnawed by some animal, possibly rats but we did not hesitate to eat these biscuits and felt very grateful for them. This is what hunger can do to you. 
 
Water was another problem. No more than two men could be spared from the hill at any one time and it involved two going off with a galvanised chargil some way across the plain to Div HQ to get a few gallons of water. The heavy container had to be dragged back and pulled up the steep sides of the hill to the top. Needless to say, there was water for drinking only, no washing or shaving was allowed. It can be imagined what we looked like after a week of this. Particularly as our faces were smeared with mosquito cream, and the impact of shells at night, while we were lying in the trenches caused the dirt to fall and stick to our faces.
 
But to return to the evening we arrived on Ammunition Hill, our worries about food began to dissolve when we saw what was happening below. Strings of vehicles of all sorts, columns of infantry were coming along the road towards us, passing the end of the hill, which ended in a steep cliff, and headed on towards DIV HQ and the Ngakyedauk Pass. As I said earlier, we did not as yet know whether or not the Pass was closed and the awful thought struck us that perhaps they were heading into the Pass and out, leaving us to fight some sort of rearguard action. In the absence of any kind of information, rumours fly around and we all began to fear the worst. In fact, what was happening was that they were simply drawing back to form a defensive ring around the ‘Admin Box’ which eventually included our hill too.
 
The following day life took on the pattern that was to rule for the next 2—3 weeks, this consisted of shelling, and strafing by aircraft in the daytime, and attacks by Japanese infantry at night. Of the former, the shelling was far more trying than the aircraft attacks. The aircraft could easily be seen and we usually had a fair amount of warning, and in any case the Japanese Army 01 was not a particularly effective aircraft against troops dug in, as for instance, a Beaufighter would have been.
 
The shelling was another matter. It was accurate and the Japanese obviously knew that much of the Divisions ammunition of all types was stored in the undergrowth around the base of the Hill, and they concentrated on it. They hit the Hill time and time again, each time starting fires and setting the ammunition exploding.  For those of us on the top of the Hill it was rather like sitting on top of a fire on Guy Fawkes night — flames everywhere and bursting shells and shrapnel screeching through the trees.  It would not have been so bad if we had been allowed to do what all our instincts told us to do, and that is to lie low in the trenches. However, shovels were distributed, I do not know where they came from, but with these we crawled down the Hill to throw dirt or soil on to the fires and try to extinguish them. Of course it was quite futile but at least we had to try and do something.  It was here that Sgt Roe set a fine example and did what he could, probably more than anyone, to try and put out the fires but was hit by a piece of flying shrapnel and injured in the throat. With great courage he dressed this serious wound himself and was later to receive a “Mention in Dispatches”
 
However, despite these trials by day it was the night that was really hideous, The Japanese came out of their hiding places in the jungle on the hill opposite and streamed across the plains towards our positions.  Of course, we could not. see them in the dark but the noise was dreadful, their shouting and screams as they were hit by the machine gun fire, In this respect we were very, very fortunate in having the tanks with us. They were stationed around us in the form of pill boxes. They did not normally move at night but with their heavy machine guns directed towards the Japanese positions, supported by infantry dug in around them with Bren guns, they were able to lay down a curtain of fire, which was well nigh impenetrable.  I think very few of the Japanese actually got through, and the scenes the next morning of Japanese bodies strewn all over the plain bore witness to the carnage of the night before. However, those that did get through wreaked a fair bit of havoc when they could. One party actually broke into the ‘Field Hospital’, which was no more than stretchers laid under trees, and bayoneted all the patients. In fact we had one chap with us who was desperately ill with malaria and who could hardly stand, but like all those who became sick, he had no wish to be taken to the hospital and preferred to stay with us.
 
Night after night we stood in our trenches listening to the commotion down below and straining our eyes in the darkness to see Japanese crawling up the hill towards us. In fact, they never actually made it that far but senses play tricks when one is in a high state of tension, and small bushes and so on, seen in the gloom, all appeared to be Japanese crawling towards us. We often stood with grenades in our hands, pins drawn, holding the clip down ready to throw them. We were under instructions not to fire unless we were forced to because of giving away our positions. We also had a couple of loaded sten guns in front of our trenches. The plan as far as Tubby Cherrington and I were concerned, who shared a trench, was that we would hurl all our grenades, then empty the sten into them and then take to our rifles and bayonets. As a last resort we each had a machete lying at our sides. One thing was certain, we, like the rest of the people on that hill, never intended to be taken prisoner.
 
It. is difficult to describe our feelings, Our position seemed hopeless. We knew the Pass was closed and as day followed day, and week followed week, it began to seem virtually impossible that we were ever going to get out of the situation. In fact I think most of the people were resigned to the fact that we were finished, but it was just a question of when. I, and the rest of the people on that Hill I am sure, knew what a condemned man must feel like.
 
Had we known what was going on back at Corps HQ, I am sure we would have been even more dismayed. I was recently reading a book about the battle of the ‘Admin Box’, something I had never seen written about before. In it, the writer stated that the General in command of 15 Corps, whom I believe was General Christianson, (although I am not sure about that, memory fails me) had decided that 7 Div., or what was left of it, was not worth saving and was prepared to abandon it and draw fresh defensive positions further back along the Arakan. In this, however, he was over-ridden by General Slim who said that 7th Div must be kept fighting and that it would be supplied by air.  Little did we realise on what a slender thread our fate rested.
 
I can recollect several instances that had an amusing side, if the whole business had not been so deadly serious. One night during an attack by the Japs in which they were near our Hill, or around the base of the hill, the man with Owen Taylor in the next slit trench, I did not know him, perhaps he came from one of the Infantry Regiments, apparently pulled the pin out of a grenade and then dropped it. There was a mad scramble to find it in the dark which was unsuccessful and of course they dared not move out of the trench as anything that moved outside the trench was likely to be shot. Eventually, as it had not gone off they did no more about it, but. next morning it was found tucked underneath Owen Taylor’s bed roll. I don’t suppose many people can say they slept with a ‘live’ primed, hand grenade all night.
Another incident that comes to mind was that of the ‘indestructible Boffers gun’. The Japanese were making one of their usual air raids and thoroughly enjoying themselves. They were streaking up and down the valley shooting everything in sight and some were flying so low they actually passed below the level of our hill.  I clearly recollect looking down on one with canopy slid back flying up and down, the picture of arrogance. Of course, their confidence was justified for until Spitfires arrived many months later, they really had little to worry about.
 
However, there was a Boffers gun on the plain below us, perhaps 200 yards away, and the crew of that, were obviously determined to do something about it, They were banging away like mad at these planes as they flew up and down until one of them apparently spotted them. He came streaking towards them, obviously bent on mischief but the gun did not stop firing and as he swept over them he released a bomb. The gun was not particularly well protected, other than perhaps a shallow pit with a few sand bags around, and it looked like the end of them. There was a great deal of commiseration on the hill at the way they had gone, but gradually as the smoke and dust cleared we were amazed to seethe gun was not only there, but was still firing like mad. Who the gunners were or what Regiment they belonged to I have no idea, but it was a magnificent display of sheer guts.
 
After about 2 weeks the Japanese infantry attacks had tailed off, There were no longer the succession of night attacks and I presume they were getting short of men after their heavy losses, and of course what we did not know, they were being pressed from the other side by the relieving Div, the British 2nd Div I believe, although I am open to correction on that.  At any rate, the officer in charge of our hill deemed the situation to have eased sufficiently to allow 2 men at a time to go down the hill to the river to get a wash, shave and general clean up. When I arrived at the river there were about 50/60 in the water, which was only a shallow stream, having a wash.
 
As explained earlier, the bed of the river was quite wide with steep overhanging banks and just the narrow stream in the center, I also said earlier that we generally got a fair bit of warning of air attacks, however, on this occasion we did not. The first we knew of it was the whistles blowing, and on looking up I could see quite clearly not more than a mile away, three Ols bearing towards us, and in fact I could see the tracer leaving the front of the aircraft. They had obviously spotted the men in the river and had decided to have a bit of target practice. I have never moved so quickly in my life! I simply grabbed my rifle from the edge of the stream and ran as fast as I could, stark naked, towards the bank.
 
There were slit trenches dug along the edges under the overhanging banks and I had a vague impression of a slit trench with 4/5 dusky faces peering out, and a similar number of sharp bayonets sticking up.  I did not, hesitate but went for the slit trench at a speed that would have done credit to an Olympic runner and dived in behind them.  I did not see the aircraft after that as my head, and those of the other occupants of the trench, were kept so low that we saw nothing. However, I heard the thud of the bombs as they passed and then it was all over. I got out to collect my clothes and expected to see bodies and perhaps injured men lying all over the place, but there was not a single one.  Obviously there were a great many more Olympic runners in the Army! I had lost all further interest now in washing and was intent on getting back to the comparative safety of ‘Ammunition Hill’.
In this respect, it is interesting, that people I spoke to on the plain were horrified at the idea of being on Ammunition Hill.  They said it seemed to be impossible for anyone to survive and they were thankful they were not up there. To us however it seemed a relatively safe place, at least unlike those on the plain, we were relatively safe from marauding Japanese parties. Having got back to the top of the hill I decided that I was not in need of any more washes until the Division was relieved, if that ever happened.
 
I and two  others did volunteer for another job down on the plain although it may well have been before the previously mentioned incident. I never remember seeing any 25 pounders in the ‘Admin Box’ but there was an RA Battery equipped with mortars.  One day someone came up on the hill from this Battery asking for volunteers to pass ammunition as they intended to undertake a big shoot against the Japanese. As we had taken such a pounding from the Japanese artillery, there was a great feeling of wanting to hit back at them, and there was no shortage of volunteers for this job. Three of us were selected, I cannot remember the names of the other two, and we duly reported to the Battery below.
 
It was situated in a small clearing in heavy scrub jungle, quite close to the river. The first thing we noticed, was a 15 cwt truck about 50/60 yards behind the mortars, fully loaded, with ammunition boxes containing mortar bombs. There were, I believe, about 16 mortars and laid around these were scores more mortar bombs waiting for loading.   After some ranging the Major in charge of the Battery opened fire with all 16 mortars. They fired in salvos of 5 between each re-ranging and with 16 mortars operating, the weight of bombs being got away was very impressive,  I and the other volunteers were busy carrying ammunition forward and the sound of those scores and scores of bombs whistling towards the Japanese was music to our ears. At last we were giving them a taste of what they had been giving us, at least that is what we thought.
 
After this had been going on for some time we heard a whistle, which did not sound like a mortar bomb, in fact it sounded very much like a Japanese 75. The crash of a shell some 100 yards behind the ammunition truck confirmed this and our elation quickly evaporated. What was uppermost in our minds was the scores of mortar bombs lying on the ground, not to mention all those in the truck just behind.  If any of these were to be hit there was going to be an almighty bang.
 
After a while the Major gave the stand down and we thankfully retired into our slit trenches, However, the shelling continued and it was very accurate. How it failed to hit the ammunition or us remains an absolute mystery. The Major must have then decided he would bluff it out and called for us to take post again and the mortars re-opened fire. The shells continued for a little while but the bluff must have worked because gradually the Japanese shells moved away and then stopped. Eventually came the final stand down for the day and it was with enormous relief that we scampered back to our hill. What had promised to be a pleasant day, throwing things at the Japanese had turned out to be very nasty indeed; I suppose that old Army maxim applied - Never Volunteer for Anything!
 
I recall one more traumatic incident which must have occurred not very long before we were relieved. An Infantry Officer and his Sgt arrived on the hill looking for volunteers for an assault on a Japanese position.  We did occasionally get visits from officers from the Division, who they were or what their rank, we never knew because of course no badges of rank were worn.  One example, is the officer who came up during the height of the shelling when shrapnel was flying in all directions and walked around the top of the hill above the slit trenches, encouraging us to get our heads above as there was no danger. How he survived that is a mystery, but he was a wonderful example and it made one feel ashamed to be ducking down in the slit trenches.
 
But, to return to the story I was relating, it seemed that the Japanese held a hill, No 1018 I believe it was. The hill had changed hands several times I believe.  It was currently in the hands of the Japanese and gave them a view across our positions, and Div were anxious to have them removed.  We were told, rather unwisely I feel, that a recent assault by a Company of the Queens Own on the hill had met with heavy losses and had failed and they were now looking for more Infantry.
 
The Officer then walked around the hill, visiting each slit trench, which held two men, and selected one ‘volunteer’ from each trench.  I shared a trench with Tubby Cherrington and was the ‘lucky’ one selected.  Matters were not improved by Tubby’s concern and commiseration.  In fact he almost wrote my obituary.  He promised that after I had gone he would write to my parents and if he survived the war he’d go and visit them, and asked me what kit I wanted taking back, etc, etc.
 
Once again I felt I knew what a condemned man felt like, a terrible feeling of emptiness and a complete lack of interest in anything, simply an overriding concern as to whether one was going to live more than the next hour or two, I did have similar feelings, on later occasions, but never to the same extent as that.
 
The party gathered together was effectively half of the defence of the hill, which suggests the way the tables were steadily turning. It was now felt that the hill could be partly defended, and the attack was being carried to the Japanese. However, the significance of this was lost on us at the time. The Sgt gathered us into a group to lecture us as to what was going to happen. He indicated his complete disgust with the ‘soldiers’ that had been allocated to him but said that we would have to do!  He thought that our appearance would be enough to frighten the Japanese.
 
When I look back I have great admiration for that Sgt.  Despite all his wisecracking and pseudo insults he must have felt as frightened as the rest of us, at the prospect of climbing up that hill through thick undergrowth, against a hostile defended position on the top. The chances of survival had to be pretty slim but yet he gave no sign of it. After checking all our weapons he went off saying he would return for us as soon as they were ready for the assault.
 
We sat around for a couple of hours, which must have been one of the worst periods in my life. We saw him eventually coming back up the hill, doom was approaching, but when he got up he announced we would not be required, as he put it ‘they had found some real soldiers’.  What a relief, and yet I could not help thinking about the men who were going to have to do it.  How they got on I never knew. A few days later we received the news that 2nd Div I think it was, had broken through and the pass had been re-opened. This was accompanied by some pretty heartfelt cheering and within hours we could see men and vehicles flooding onto the plain in the direction of the pass.  The actual entrance was obscured from our view.
That’s about it really. Within a couple of days we received the order to collect cur vehicles and return to our Unit, an order that we were very happy to comply with. It was a great relief driving back through the Pass, but everywhere there were signs of the struggle that had taken place to re-possess it - a terrible battle.
 
What I have written is in no way an account of the battle of the ‘Admin Box’, it is simply recollections of things as they happened to me, and what we were told at the time.  However, as I mentioned earlier, I have recently read an account of this battle in a war history book and it seems most of what we were told or believed at the time, was substantially true.
 
I had no close contact with the Japanese again until the next year. Again on the Arakan when my section was attached to 73 Brigade for a long-range penetration down the Arakan coast as far as Akyab. As they say, that is another story, but it is strange that once again we were to lose our Officer who was forced down on the other side of the Mayu range into the Kaladan Valley. I believe he was Capt Maslen-Jones but I do hope he will forgive me if I am wrong about that. Like Capt Boys before him he was brought in by the Burmese and a ‘duck’ amphibious vehicle was sent down the coast as far as Akyab Island, which was still occupied by the Japanese, then up the Kaladan river to meet the Burmese party and bring him back.*
 
He must have been one amongst many hundreds of British troops who owe their lives to the Burmese, so that thinking about it, British rule could not have been so objectionable as modern day cynics would have us believe. At any rate they seem to prefer us to their fellow Asians, the Japanese; but given the appalling record of the Japanese in China, its not surprising that their fellow Asians almost universally hates them.
 
 
Reg Bailey,
‘C’ Flight,  656 Air OP Squadron RAF,
1943-46,
 
*  Research since the compilation of this document indicates that it was not Capt Maslen-Jones as mentioned. It is thought that it may have been Capt McLinden, and further research will be made in the ‘C’ Flight diary to verify.
 
Nobby Clark,   26/12/93

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