Defeat into victory

Defeat into victory

By Field Marshal Viscount Slim

The British forces in Burma in 1942 are dealt a severe blow by the Japanese army. Reeling from defeat after defeat, one man is called in to stem the tide…

Field Marshall Viscount Slim, or Uncle Bill as he was known to his soldiers, was one of the lesser known generals of World War II. Being from a working class background, he was not as socially connected or as flamboyant as some of the other generals involved in the war. His posting in a relatively obscure corner of the conflict meant that he remained out of the limelight, unlike generals like Patton or Montgomery. However, he was so popular among the men who served under him that his unceremonious removal at the cusp of victory led to mutinies in the army, and he had to be brought back to keep the peace!

The book is written in a clear and lucid style. It is arranged chronologically, starting in 1942 with General Slim being posted to the Burma theatre from his current posting in the Middle East and moving forwards through the British retreat, the battle of Imphal/Kohima and counterstrike into Burma. The author’s recall of the detail of unit names, placements, strength and other military items is exhaustive. Though a treasure trove for military historians, for the lay reader this is may sometimes lead to the feeling that the book is overlong and tedious. General Slim writes freely, without too much embellishments, and his thoughts come out clearly in the text. His description of terrain and eye for detail is impressive, contributing to the feeling that he must have been a very effective commander.

After being defeated in 1942, the British Army steadily pulled back into India, fighting a rearguard action all the way. The onset of the monsoon gave them a respite and breathing space to reorganize. A vivid description of the retreat is given and how it was prevented from being turned into a rout. The British Army in Burma was extremely under supplied and under equipped in comparison to forces in other theatres of the war. Once General Slim took over, he instituted a complete overhaul of the system, from supply of rations to anti-malarial prophylaxis to restructuring of army units. There is an emphasis on delegation of authority, establishment of supply chains, use of local materials and sheer derring do. Indeed, the book sometimes feels like a manual of corporate governance rather than a military memoir!

The Japanese made the fatal mistake of advancing too fast without enough back up and supply. Taking notice of this the British Army lured them into the Imphal/ Kohima region where conditions were favorable to the defenders and defeated them after months long siege. The Japanese routed back to central Burma where they were finally defeated by the advancing British Army at the battle of the Irrawaddy river. In mid 1945, the British Army was back in Rangoon, which it had vacated 3 years earlier.

Highlights:

1.     The passage on how locally made jute parachutes were hurriedly fabricated and use to airdrop supplies to units in the field, in the absence of proper ones.

2.     Glimpses of the General’s management style, relevant for all mangers today as well.

3.     Mention of the INA army in alliance with the Japanese its contemptuous dismissal by the author . Surprising for me!

Ranking:

            Overall 7/10

            Military history 9/10

How a sport changed my life

How a sport changed my life

There are some defining moments and experiences in life which one can go back to anytime in order to reorient and refresh oneself. These moments are inspirational and serve as waypoints on our journey through life. The values one gets after passing through experiences are hard won and all the more precious for being so. I can recall one such moment in my life which remained with me thereafter.

Surprisingly, it was nothing more ordinary than a cycle race. I was in the ninth standard and used to cycle to school every day. Till then, I had never considered cycling to be a real sport, but thought it to be more of a means of transport.

My family lived in the campus of the Post Graduate Institute of Medical Education and Research in Chandigarh, where my father was a senior faculty member. The residential block where we lived was rectangular in shape and consisted of two rows of ten houses each, placed back to back, adjacent to a large sports ground. A road ran between them and continued on to encircle the block completely. The Institute used to hold an annual Sports Day for the residents and faculty, which was an eagerly awaited event in my calendar. There would be multiple races, athletic events, sports competitions and more. I was at the age where sports fever was at its peak along with the required physical strength and stamina to back it up. The announcement of a cycle race added to the excitement.

I must tell something of myself at this point. As already mentioned, I was in the ninth standard at school, of above average height and strongly built. I was very athletic the time, taking part in multiple sports like cricket, football, tennis and especially badminton. However, I was a bit of an underachiever, doing well in everything but never excelling.  I had a close friend, whom I shall call Raja, for the purpose of anonymity. He was very similar to me in everything – we went to the same school together on our cycles, played all sports together, etc. However, there was an important difference in that Raja excelled in everything he put his mind to. He was an excellent bowler and used to beat me regularly in tennis and badminton though the matches were hotly contested and closely won. In summary, he was a step ahead of me in everything. Both of us decided to take part in the race.

The day of the race – after a long wait – dawned bright and clear. It was the middle of March and the conditions were perfect for outdoor events. I was full of anxiety and doubt about my chances of winning the race. However, I was determined to give a good account of myself. I told myself, “just stay in the race and let in happen!”

The race was supposed to start in the sports ground and then proceed onto the road encircling our housing block, of which we were supposed to make five laps. As the contestants gathered for the race – there were some twenty odd in number – I noted to my satisfaction that only Raja and myself had the necessary cycles for a fast race. In my mind, the race was already between the two of us only!

We took our positions and due to space constraints I had to stand with my cycle in the rear. As soon as the referee gave the signal, we took off. In the crowd I was unable to move ahead and in fact, was the last out of the ground. I did not give up despite this initial jolt but pushed on and by the end of the first lap emerge in the second place behind Raja, who as usual was at the head of the column. By this time we had accelerated significantly and outpaced much of the crowd. I place myself close behind Raja. My instinct was to try and overtake him but my brain took over in time. I was already breathing fast and there was a steady pain building up in my legs. I made up a strategy on the spur of the moment to stay behind Raja till the last lap and keep on stretching him. In this way I could just concentrate on cycling while he would have to expend extra effort to stay ahead. In the last lap I could try and push ahead.

The strategy worked like clockwork. I kept close behind him throughout, forcing him to maintain his lead at great cost. Both of us had set a punishing pace and in fact out-lapped the other contestants. All this effort was not without its toll. I was almost gasping and the pain in my legs and now chest too was becoming intolerable. I gritted my teeth and kept on though.

By the beginning of the last lap, Raja had enough. He suddenly retched and vomited while I took the opportunity to slip ahead to the first place. We finished like that, me first and him second. The rest of the crowd was a distant third, maybe two or three laps behind us.

That race changed a lot of things for me. It was the first challenge where I had taken the knocks and was still able to emerge victorious. I had made a strategy, stuck to it and got the results – it showed me the power of a good plan. I had conquered great odds in winning the race – not the least my own insecurities. What I got most from that episode was however, a belief, that if put my mind on something, I could do it.

That moment of victory, that race, is frozen in my memory, like a drop of water hanging from a roof edge. I can go back anytime and refresh and renew myself and regain that belief in moments of doubt and uncertainty. That is the power of a race and a sport!