Part 2

Stillwell takes command in China

4 March 1942, China. Charged with the dual tasks of heightening the USA to the Chinese war effort and increasing the combat skills of the Chinese troops, General Joseph Stillwell establishes his headquarters in Chongqing, in the recently formed China-Burma-India theatre. Having been a foreign language professor at West Point and later a military observer in China, the 59-year-old Stillwell is well-suited to the daunting task before him. He has a keen appreciation and love for the cultures of the Far East, a trait that will serve him well because his mission is as much diplomatic as military. Complicating this mission is Japan’s initial and successful thrust into Burma. The Japanese are intent on effecting the total military and economic isolation of China and by sweeping into and across Burma they hope to sever the last land route to the Chinese subcontinent.

By 22 February, the poorly-trained and ill-equipped Burmese and Indian troops are routed, mere courage being insufficient to shield their land from Japanese onslaught. Stillwell arrives only in time to aid in the retreat of soldiers and evacuation of refugees. At their first meeting, Chinese General Chiang Kai-Shek appoints Stillwell Chief of Staff of the Chinese Army. While this may seem remarkable, the position is largely ceremonial. Chiang’s army is primarily a malnourished, untrained aggregate of farmers and laborers. Conditions which Stillwell intends to rectify. Even if he is successful in doing so however, the degree of actual participation by the Chinese forces in America’s war with Japan is somewhat dubious. A main reason for this doubt is that Chiang seems more interested in fighting the Chinese communists to his north than in repelling the Japanese invaders.

As the outside world becomes more aware of the struggle in China, Stillwell garners much of the media’s attention. The image of Stillwell presented to the public, while not entirely inaccurate, is one-dimensional. To the world he is “Vinegar Joe”, a tough as nails, pragmatic, hardened caricature of the American fighting man. His tawny frame of angular features and weathered skin lend themselves to such characterizations. Standing in marked contrast to this image is the warmth and caring he displaced toward those under his command. To his troops he is “Uncle Joe”, the General who walks the lines with them, treating even the lowest private as an equal. How strange and disappointing it must be for these men to read the exploits of “vinegar Joe”, to see in print a mere fraction of the man they have come to know and consider a friend. But in times such as these, when the country and the world are hungry for heroes, it is sometimes necessary that they be created for the public, even at the expense of the very humanity for which they are fighting.

The battle of Java Sea

27 February 1942, Java. After taking Singapore on 15 February, the Japanese have now focused their attention on taking this remaining outpost in the Dutch East Indies. The survival of the garrison here is heavily dependent on protection by the combined Allied Fleet, under the command of Dutch Rear Admiral Karel Doorman. Steaming off the northern coast of Java, Doorman spots a large Japanese convoy and prepares to engage it. Almost immediately, Doorman realizes he has a huge disadvantage. Firing from a distance of five and a half miles, the Japanese are using spotter planes to direct their fire and quickly zero in on the Allied column. The British cruiser Exeter is severely damaged by an 8-inch round and is forced to drop out of the formation. As the Exeter turns away, what is been seen as an inconvenience, turns into a disastrous flaw. The combined fleet made up of American, British, Australian and Dutch ships have never exercised together and most importantly, have no common signal code or battle doctrine. Several of the ships see the Exeter turning to port and follow her, believing Doorman has ordered a change in course. With the Allied Fleet in an extremely vulnerable position, the Japanese launch dozens of their long-lance torpedoes at the floundering vessels. Incredibly, only one Dutch destroyer is sunk. Doorman finally manages to regain control of his ships and withdraws. Low on fuel and torpedoes, the Allied Fleet makes for the port of Batavia. Unknowingly, they steam right into a Dutch minefield and a British destroyer is sunk. Moving north out of the minefield, Doorman again encounters the Japanese fleet. This time the Japanese torpedoes are far more effective. One by one the Allied ships are hit and sunk. As his flagship, the cruiser De Ruyter is hit, Doorman orders the two remaining ships under his command to withdraw and make for Australia. He then slips beneath the waves with his ship.

This sacrifice of the Allied Fleet has done little to impede the Japanese plan for the conquest of Java. On 1 April, they invade the island and by 9 April have it securely in their hands. The fall of Java and the destruction of the Allied Fleet are sources of grave concern to Allied commanders. Australia is now the lone Allied outpost in the region and becomes more and more vulnerable with each passing day. If the Japanese decide to come ashore here, stopping them will be difficult indeed. The Japanese military that has already proven its powers on land, has now proven it is the dominant naval force in the region as well.

Japanese capture Mandalay

3 April 1942, Mandalay. As British, Indian and Chinese troop struggle to assemble for the defense of this crucial Burmese city, Japanese bombers and fighters storm from the sky virtually unopposed, raining death and destruction down on Allied troops and thousands of refugees passing through on their way to India. Mandalay, with its river port and railroads, is the key to the central plains and, in effect, all of Burma. For months, the emperor’s troops have been pushing to get here before monsoon season, running roughshod over the poorly equipped and weary Allied Armies. The aerial attack signals the beginning of their assault against the city, and with the RAF and China’s Flying Tigers having been forced to withdraw from the area, the effect is devastating.

On 8 April, General Joseph Stilwell, the man charged with organizing the Chinese Armed Forces, arrives in Mandalay. The city is still in flames, its streets littered with dead bodies and rubble. The sight leaves Stilwell incensed. He has just returned from a meeting with generalissimo Chiang Kai-Shek, at which he requested the Chinese leader to instruct his field commander to reinforce the front. In refusing to do so, Chiang suggests that Stilwell could increase the effectiveness of his troops by feeding them watermelon. Stilwell knows that Chiang is not as foolish as this statement would imply. He is merely unwilling to expand Chinese troops and equipment to defend anything other than Chinese soil, even though the loss of Burma would result in the complete isolation of China.

The British and Chinese fight courageously but the enemy is too strong to be held back for long. By 29 April it is clear that the city will fall and the Allies begin to withdraw. On 1 May, the Japanese enter Mandalay. As British and Indian troops retreat to India by truck and train, Stilwell remains behind with his Chinese divisions north of the fallen city, supervising their withdrawal. Lacking a sufficient number of trucks to make the move, when the time comes to evacuate himself and his staff, Stilwell gathers together those who are to make the journey. He composes a group of about 100 people including 19 Burmese nurses and he tells them: “Let’s get the hell out of here.” They will make the journey on foot. Pressing through the Burmese jungle with the Japanese still advancing behind them, the group, led by the 60-year-old Stilwell, endures insects, deadly snakes, unbearable heat, and a severe shortage of food. “Vinegar Joe”, who develops a case of jaundice along the way, doesn’t miss a step.

On 14 May, the muddy group hobbles into India, having tracked some 140 miles. Stilwell has delivered them to safety without the loss of a single person. Yet for him there is no triumph. Burma is lost and with it the ability to readily supply troops fighting the Japanese in China. His job has just become infinitely more difficult. So when British generals begin to brag about their “glorious retreat” and a “heroic voluntary withdrawal”, Stilwell will have none of it. His anger and frustration boil to the surface. In a statement that only serves to reinforce his image he tells the press that: “No military commander in history ever made a voluntary withdrawal and there is no such thing as a glorious retreat. All retreats are ignominious as hell.” As for his assessment of the Burmese campaign, Vinegar Joe is concise and to the point: “I say we got a hell of a licking”.

Allies split Pacific command

31 March 1942. In Washington, President Roosevelt signs a directive dividing the Pacific theatre into two commands. Though it is on its surface purely a bureaucratic nicety, in reality it is the result of more than a month of difficult negotiations. It has been clear since the onset of war that the Pacific would have to be split. It is an impossibly large area from just off the coast of the Americas to the Indian ocean, covering roughly one third of the earth’s surface. But how to divide that area has been an enormous problem, involving not only international and inter-service relations, but also the enormous egos of some of the key players. It is been assumed all along that General Douglas MacArthur would have command of at least some of the region. Though he arrived in Australia as little more than a refugee, in command of nothing but the few troops able...