8 December 1941. Kota Bharu. Malaya.
allanpcameron
Donor
8 December 1941. Kota Bharu. Malaya.
Sergeant Tommy Docherty cursed his luck. His Matilda II had been working with B Company of sepoys from 3rd Bn 5th Mahratta Light Infantry, but the constant rain had made everything marshy. The driver, Noel Woods, had misjudged the depth of a stream, and they were now stuck, the engine flooded, and the hull of the tank with a foot of water in it. The other two tanks in the troop were off somewhere else with other sepoys, so there was no chance of a tow.
The B Company Commander came to the turret hatch. Subedar Namdeo Ghadge couldn’t help smiling at Docherty’s use of very colourful language. For the previous week the two men had been working together closely training the Company in cooperation with the tank. Ghadge was always very proud of his spoken English, but Docherty was a man from somewhere called Paisley, and sometimes Ghadge didn’t think he spoke English at all. “The fucking fucker’s fucking fucked” wasn’t a phrase that Ghadge understood very well, but the tone of voice behind it did emphasise that Docherty wasn’t a happy man.
Ghadge’s pride his command of the English language wasn’t shared by Docherty. Half the time he didn’t understand a single word, and the other half he just smiled and nodded as if he did. Now the Subedar was smiling and saying something unintelligible. If he wasn’t up to his bollocks in cold slimy green water, maybe he might of have made more of an effort to understand what the wee Gunga Din wanted, but right now he had other things on his mind.
The persistent taping on his shoulder eventually made Docherty stop berating Woods for a moment, and there was Ghadge pointing excitably towards the treeline. Growing up in Paisley, Docherty thought he knew rain, but not like this. Peering through what appeared to be a curtain of rain, the crack of a bullet passing and flashes from the direction Ghadge was pointing to, silenced Docherty. It took him an eternity to realise that people were actually shooting at him, trying to kill him. Then he was aware that the sepoys were returning fire, and suddenly his training took over. A quick boot to the shoulder of his gunner, Corporal Pat Currie (oh how they enjoyed that name since they started working with the Indians). “Wake up man, enemy front, two hundred yards, co-ax, open fire!” Turning to Ghadge he gave him a thumbs up sign, then closed the hatch and started fighting his tank.
The good news was that he was in a perfect hull down position. The bad news was that he was in a perfect hull down position without the engine running or any juice to power the turret traverse. He was also pretty sure that the radio had shorted out, and that there wasn’t any help coming. Currie had opened fire with the co-axial. The loader, Jimmy McMahon, was trying to sort out the ammo belts. The 2-pdr was pretty useless at this point, but at least the Besa was working well. Curry was having to use the manual traverse to keep the machine gun cutting along the tree line. Docherty told Curry to watch his ammo, while he tried to get an idea of what was happening. There was no way of working that out with the rain soaking the periscope view. Docherty knew he needed Ghadge’s help, so he opened the turret, to find the aforementioned Subedar smiling at him still from the rear of the turret. The Indian officer gave him a thumbs up sign, and then pointed to the left. When Docherty saw what he was looking at, he called down to Currie to cease fire at the treeline and shift to a new target to his left at 9 o’clock.
The Japanese, that was the only folk Docherty could think of who wanted to kill him, had been using the tree line as a base of fire, and what seemed like at least a hundred of them were flanking the Sepoys with what to all the world looked like a bayonet charge. Traversing the turret manually was slow, and it felt like forever before the Besa barked again. Ghadge gave him another thumbs up sign and jumped off the tank. Docherty could see one of Ghadge’s platoons were moving to protect the flank.
Woods was no use to anyone in the tank at this point. Docherty told him to clear the tank, pick up a few sepoys and head back to the airfield. He needed to tell the senior officer what was happening, and then bring back as much ammunition as he and the sepoys could carry. If he saw anyone who could give them a tow out of the stream, then that would be useful too. From its brackets on the turret beside him, Docherty took the fancy new machine pistol they’d been issued with and threw it to Woods ‘just in case’. Woods expressed his unhappiness in a particularly eloquent manner, to which Docherty replied, “Fuck off and don’t get killed.”
The front of the turret received regular bullet strikes against it, which meant that Docherty wasn’t keen on putting his head out of the hatch. The persistent banging on the hatch however was obviously something important. The smiling face of Subedar Ghadge was waiting, and he excitedly told Docherty something about what was going on. Docherty smiled and nodded, thinking to himself ‘not a clue what he’s on about.’
Eventually the sweeping hand gestures began to make sense. The sepoys were moving forward, and he seemed to be gesturing for covering fire. Another near miss made both men duck, so Docherty gave a thumbs up and closed the hatch. Currie at the same moment called a misfire and he and McMahon began the clearance procedure. Docherty warned McMahon to make sure the ammo belts were dry before loading, to which McMahon replied, “what with?” Everything in the tank was soaking, so Docherty just shrugged and said, “do your best”. He ordered Currie to fire the main gun in the direction of the tree line, and while McMahon worked on the Besa, Docherty loaded for Currie from the ready rack, which was thankfully still above the water. What effect the 2-pdr was having on the Japanese could only be guessed at, but at least it was something.
McMahon called out that the co-axial MG was clear and Currie, having been warned to watch for friendlies moving forward, began to hose the treeline as best he could. A flare went up, which was one of the pre-arranged signals from the infantry to cease fire. Currie worried that he had just about burned out the barrel of the Besa, and McMahon noted that he was on the last tin of ammunition for it. Docherty opened the hatch to see better. The rain seemed to have lightened slightly, or at least Docherty could see a bit better.
Some sepoys were carrying back wounded men, and Docherty could see flashes that meant someone was on the receiving end of artillery, he just hoped it was the japs and not the sepoys. There was very little he could do about anything, but he got out the tank and had a look at their situation. He was totally bogged down, and the marshy ground around would make getting a successful tow out difficult. He looked around the battlefield and wondered where Gunga Din had got to. Then he wondered where Woods and got to. He jumped back onto the tank and stood up on the turret trying to make out what was happening. When Pat Currie asked “Do you think there’ll be snipers?” Docherty immediately realised that there was a war on and standing straight in full view wasn’t his cleverest moment.
An hour later Woods arrived back, but on the back of another Matilda II. Docherty recognised Sergeant Morris and grimaced. He was never going to hear the end of this in the sergeants’ mess. Sure enough, Morris and his crew started the expected imprecations. Currie’s response of bailing out empty ammo tins and expended cartridges soon shut Morris’ men down. Another half-hour later, after two attempts, Docherty’s tank was back on dry land. A lorry from the Light Aid Detachment had arrived and the mechanics were working with Woods to dry out the engine and get it started. A spare barrel for the Besa was put in, and the ammo storage refilled. The radio did need replaced, so the Light Aid squad called the tank unserviceable and Docherty had the ignominious experience of being towed backwards to the airfield. At least when they go there, they could get a dry uniform, something to eat, and stay out of the rain in one of the hangers while the tank was fixed up. Jap planes had been bombing the place on and off, most of the Australian flown Hudsons had disappeared.
Docherty couldn’t believe how happy he was to see Subedar Ghadge lead a much-reduced company back to their starting point. The Indian officer explained at great length just exactly what his Company, and the rest of Battalion had done when the left Docherty’s tank. Docherty didn’t really understand any of it, but the Japs wouldn’t be heading to the airfield. “All dead” were the first words that Docherty really understood. The japs were all dead. He slapped the Subedar and the back, gave him the ‘thumbs up’ and repeated “all dead!” The two men laughed and laughed. That had been an interesting day.
Sergeant Tommy Docherty cursed his luck. His Matilda II had been working with B Company of sepoys from 3rd Bn 5th Mahratta Light Infantry, but the constant rain had made everything marshy. The driver, Noel Woods, had misjudged the depth of a stream, and they were now stuck, the engine flooded, and the hull of the tank with a foot of water in it. The other two tanks in the troop were off somewhere else with other sepoys, so there was no chance of a tow.
The B Company Commander came to the turret hatch. Subedar Namdeo Ghadge couldn’t help smiling at Docherty’s use of very colourful language. For the previous week the two men had been working together closely training the Company in cooperation with the tank. Ghadge was always very proud of his spoken English, but Docherty was a man from somewhere called Paisley, and sometimes Ghadge didn’t think he spoke English at all. “The fucking fucker’s fucking fucked” wasn’t a phrase that Ghadge understood very well, but the tone of voice behind it did emphasise that Docherty wasn’t a happy man.
Ghadge’s pride his command of the English language wasn’t shared by Docherty. Half the time he didn’t understand a single word, and the other half he just smiled and nodded as if he did. Now the Subedar was smiling and saying something unintelligible. If he wasn’t up to his bollocks in cold slimy green water, maybe he might of have made more of an effort to understand what the wee Gunga Din wanted, but right now he had other things on his mind.
The persistent taping on his shoulder eventually made Docherty stop berating Woods for a moment, and there was Ghadge pointing excitably towards the treeline. Growing up in Paisley, Docherty thought he knew rain, but not like this. Peering through what appeared to be a curtain of rain, the crack of a bullet passing and flashes from the direction Ghadge was pointing to, silenced Docherty. It took him an eternity to realise that people were actually shooting at him, trying to kill him. Then he was aware that the sepoys were returning fire, and suddenly his training took over. A quick boot to the shoulder of his gunner, Corporal Pat Currie (oh how they enjoyed that name since they started working with the Indians). “Wake up man, enemy front, two hundred yards, co-ax, open fire!” Turning to Ghadge he gave him a thumbs up sign, then closed the hatch and started fighting his tank.
The good news was that he was in a perfect hull down position. The bad news was that he was in a perfect hull down position without the engine running or any juice to power the turret traverse. He was also pretty sure that the radio had shorted out, and that there wasn’t any help coming. Currie had opened fire with the co-axial. The loader, Jimmy McMahon, was trying to sort out the ammo belts. The 2-pdr was pretty useless at this point, but at least the Besa was working well. Curry was having to use the manual traverse to keep the machine gun cutting along the tree line. Docherty told Curry to watch his ammo, while he tried to get an idea of what was happening. There was no way of working that out with the rain soaking the periscope view. Docherty knew he needed Ghadge’s help, so he opened the turret, to find the aforementioned Subedar smiling at him still from the rear of the turret. The Indian officer gave him a thumbs up sign, and then pointed to the left. When Docherty saw what he was looking at, he called down to Currie to cease fire at the treeline and shift to a new target to his left at 9 o’clock.
The Japanese, that was the only folk Docherty could think of who wanted to kill him, had been using the tree line as a base of fire, and what seemed like at least a hundred of them were flanking the Sepoys with what to all the world looked like a bayonet charge. Traversing the turret manually was slow, and it felt like forever before the Besa barked again. Ghadge gave him another thumbs up sign and jumped off the tank. Docherty could see one of Ghadge’s platoons were moving to protect the flank.
Woods was no use to anyone in the tank at this point. Docherty told him to clear the tank, pick up a few sepoys and head back to the airfield. He needed to tell the senior officer what was happening, and then bring back as much ammunition as he and the sepoys could carry. If he saw anyone who could give them a tow out of the stream, then that would be useful too. From its brackets on the turret beside him, Docherty took the fancy new machine pistol they’d been issued with and threw it to Woods ‘just in case’. Woods expressed his unhappiness in a particularly eloquent manner, to which Docherty replied, “Fuck off and don’t get killed.”
The front of the turret received regular bullet strikes against it, which meant that Docherty wasn’t keen on putting his head out of the hatch. The persistent banging on the hatch however was obviously something important. The smiling face of Subedar Ghadge was waiting, and he excitedly told Docherty something about what was going on. Docherty smiled and nodded, thinking to himself ‘not a clue what he’s on about.’
Eventually the sweeping hand gestures began to make sense. The sepoys were moving forward, and he seemed to be gesturing for covering fire. Another near miss made both men duck, so Docherty gave a thumbs up and closed the hatch. Currie at the same moment called a misfire and he and McMahon began the clearance procedure. Docherty warned McMahon to make sure the ammo belts were dry before loading, to which McMahon replied, “what with?” Everything in the tank was soaking, so Docherty just shrugged and said, “do your best”. He ordered Currie to fire the main gun in the direction of the tree line, and while McMahon worked on the Besa, Docherty loaded for Currie from the ready rack, which was thankfully still above the water. What effect the 2-pdr was having on the Japanese could only be guessed at, but at least it was something.
McMahon called out that the co-axial MG was clear and Currie, having been warned to watch for friendlies moving forward, began to hose the treeline as best he could. A flare went up, which was one of the pre-arranged signals from the infantry to cease fire. Currie worried that he had just about burned out the barrel of the Besa, and McMahon noted that he was on the last tin of ammunition for it. Docherty opened the hatch to see better. The rain seemed to have lightened slightly, or at least Docherty could see a bit better.
Some sepoys were carrying back wounded men, and Docherty could see flashes that meant someone was on the receiving end of artillery, he just hoped it was the japs and not the sepoys. There was very little he could do about anything, but he got out the tank and had a look at their situation. He was totally bogged down, and the marshy ground around would make getting a successful tow out difficult. He looked around the battlefield and wondered where Gunga Din had got to. Then he wondered where Woods and got to. He jumped back onto the tank and stood up on the turret trying to make out what was happening. When Pat Currie asked “Do you think there’ll be snipers?” Docherty immediately realised that there was a war on and standing straight in full view wasn’t his cleverest moment.
An hour later Woods arrived back, but on the back of another Matilda II. Docherty recognised Sergeant Morris and grimaced. He was never going to hear the end of this in the sergeants’ mess. Sure enough, Morris and his crew started the expected imprecations. Currie’s response of bailing out empty ammo tins and expended cartridges soon shut Morris’ men down. Another half-hour later, after two attempts, Docherty’s tank was back on dry land. A lorry from the Light Aid Detachment had arrived and the mechanics were working with Woods to dry out the engine and get it started. A spare barrel for the Besa was put in, and the ammo storage refilled. The radio did need replaced, so the Light Aid squad called the tank unserviceable and Docherty had the ignominious experience of being towed backwards to the airfield. At least when they go there, they could get a dry uniform, something to eat, and stay out of the rain in one of the hangers while the tank was fixed up. Jap planes had been bombing the place on and off, most of the Australian flown Hudsons had disappeared.
Docherty couldn’t believe how happy he was to see Subedar Ghadge lead a much-reduced company back to their starting point. The Indian officer explained at great length just exactly what his Company, and the rest of Battalion had done when the left Docherty’s tank. Docherty didn’t really understand any of it, but the Japs wouldn’t be heading to the airfield. “All dead” were the first words that Docherty really understood. The japs were all dead. He slapped the Subedar and the back, gave him the ‘thumbs up’ and repeated “all dead!” The two men laughed and laughed. That had been an interesting day.
