CRNVR’s role in the allied reconquest of Burma

Concluding his series on the Ceylon volunteers in the Burma Campaign of World War 11, Sergei DeSilva-Ranasinghe reports on the action off the coast

Outside the participation of individual Ceylon volunteers in the 14th Army, the presence of the CRNVR off the coast of Burma is another historic and intriguing case of the overseas deployment of Ceylonese servicemen during the Burma Campaign.

In early 1945, while the allied reconquest of Burma was steadily progressing and the Japanese Army was in full retreat, the South East Asia Command (SEAC), Supreme Allied Commander, Lord Louis Mountbatten and his staff planned to retake the Arakan and Rangoon by land and seaborne offensives. Due to the general shortage of ships available, the CRNVR’s Commander, Captain Beauchamp, offered resources, providing two Motor Fishing Vessels (MFVs) with crews to logistically assist the allied offensives.
The special mission consisted of two ships, MFVs 185 and 186, inclusive of 17 crew members. The crew on each ship was as follows: MFV 185 - Lieutenant D.V. Hunter; Sub-Lieutenant Ivan de Livera; Leading/Seaman S.A. Fernando; Leading/Seaman A.A. Fernando; Able Seaman Ponnuchamy; Leading Stoker Attapattu; Stoker N. Abeydeera; Stoker Tony Fernando and Yeoman of Signals E.P. Wickremasinghe. MFV 186: Lieutenant Raja Proctor; Sub-Lieutenant George Ekanayake; Leading-Seaman F. Sabamalai; Leading-Seaman G.A. Fernando; Able Seaman S.V. Mariam; Able Seaman Weerasingham; Stoker Piyasena; Stoker Saranelis.

Fortunately, Lieutenant D.V. Hunter, kept a personal account of his mission, entitled ‘A Passage to Burma’, which was published in Somasiri Devendra’s book, A History of the Navy in Sri Lanka: The Ceylon Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve (1937-1950), (Colombo: Sri Lanka Navy, 1995), pp. 37-42: “We were ready to proceed in the stipulated week and had made contact with the Commanding Officer of the ML that would escort us, and planned our movement. We were to go through Pambam Pass, the passage between India and Ceylon at Adam's Bridge and stop at Madras and Vizagapatnam before crossing the Bay of Bengal to Akyab. We reported to the Chief of Staff who took us into the ‘Old man’, Capt. Beauchamp, the then boss of our outfit. ‘Well, Proctor and Hunter, here's something exciting for you to do. I suppose you know that at this moment the Jap front line is 5 miles from Akyab. They've just been thrown out, but haven't gone far’. We knew that, of course, and also that they were on the run; but that did not prevent my heart from missing a beat at what 5 miles meant. I made a quick calculation - Fort to Bambalapitiya. I swallowed hard and looked sideways at Proctor. The .... was grinning. He was enjoying the prospect of being shot at! I smiled weakly and tried to look brave.

"‘Any questions or problems, now before you take off?’ said the Big Boss. There was only one thing troubling us and that was that we had no independent communications and if we got separated in the Bay we'd be in real trouble. ‘Well, don't bloody well get separated then’ was the answer to that one when we pointed that out, and there was nothing to say but ‘Aye, aye, sir’; and then he softened and said ‘Don't worry, we'll find you if you get lost. Well, good luck! And take care of yourselves’, were his passing words and we knew he meant it. We were like one big family then and we knew that he was worried that he was sending some of his ‘sons’ into danger. But he also knew there was a war on!

“The passage through Pamban was uneventful but when 100 miles from Madras my ERA reported on the bridge one morning and said we had to stop engines. There was something wrong – a knock – in the engine, he said, and we must stop, open up and inspect. After signalling 1285 what we had to do, all ships stopped and waited for us. In half – an hour the ERA was back and he said one word ‘Kaput’, ‘No go, Chief?’ said I. ‘No go, sir’, said he. Towing was the answer and 1285 took us for a few hours and the HM Indian ship (as they were called then) Cuttack towed us the rest of the way to Madras. We were stuck for a week under repairs and the escort and Proctor’s ship had to leave me and proceeded on their own.

“Repairs completed, I was sailed to Vizagapatnam where I was to pick up a new escort to cross the bay but after re-fuelling and topping up with water and food the XDO (this was the short title for ‘Extended Duties Officer’ and I don’t know why ‘Extended’ but anyway he now appeared to be, full!) sent for me and said he had no escort and could I make the last leg of my passage alone? At that time I had one hell of an opinion of myself as a navigator and my reply was that it would be no problem. I conveniently forgot about the communications. There is a saying that to be a good captain one must also be lucky and I was certainly lucky on that occasion. Calm seas, clear days and nights, and the enemy off the immediate sea far away. It was a picnic and we made our landfall on the dot. Proctor came to me in 186 and showed me where he was parked and I secured alongside him.

“When we were on talking terms again after securing, I asked him what the score was. ‘Just fiddling around,’ said he, ‘running ammunition and stores to warships and river craft, from the ammunition and stores ships over there.’ ‘Where are the Japs?’ I asked. ‘Not far. You’ll hear them soon enough tonight when they pass over here to bomb the air-field, but you won’t see them.’ And there was his silly grin again. ‘What’s funny?’ said I. ‘This is the life’ said he, ‘and I am going to volunteer to go up the river.’ He was a senior and if he went I would have to follow. The bloody idiot had forgotten the old rule – never volunteer: it will come soon enough. ‘We can see some action. Nothing’s happening here’ – and the enemy only five miles away! ‘Better report yourself to the NOIC. He must be expecting you,’ said Proctor. And this didn’t take long. It was as Proctor advised, maid-of-all-work in the harbour. That night we heard heavy guns firing eastward and knew the fight had commenced. They seemed to prefer to fight in the dark and expected you to sleep by day. As prophesized, the bombers passed over that night for their usual strafing of the air-field and we opened fire with our main armament – 4 in no. 9mm Lanchesters! Couldn’t see them, of course, but they must have been close overhead as the roar of their passing was deafening. ‘Don’t shoot, sir,’ pleaded a seaman at my elbow, ‘they’ll see you and drop something.’ ‘Go to hell,’ I retorted, ‘how do you think I am going to expend this ammo otherwise? We are not going up the river-unless somebody volunteers’ – and I felt the butterflies fluttering madly about in my innards as I thought of what passed between Proctor and me earlier.

“Three months were we in Akyab. They didn’t send us up the river although Proctor volunteered, as promised. They reckoned, quite rightly, that we’d be sitting ducks and wanted us in one piece to work in the harbour. We saw wounded prisoners coming in daily and had to help out from time to time. Air raids at dawn and dusk became routine even though the Japs were soon pushed far into Burma. One of the finest fireworks displays I have seen took place when they hit our ammunition ship in harbour during a dawn raid. One moment she was there and the next she was gone forever. Everything inside her went up and she herself went the other way. The concussion was terrific and our little ships were bobbing about for an hour afterwards. I gulped when I remembered that I was to have been alongside her in an hour to unload ammo. Shortly after this I hit a marker buoy which was not ‘watching’ properly and nearly sank before I put my ship on the beach. A damaged stern gland due to the blow let the water in. This was soon plugged and 186 towed me alongside a salvage vessel and we were pumped dry in ten minutes. However, the accident placed 185 ‘hors de combat’ and we were taken into an inlet of the river near by and beached. War receding, our usefulness had gone and the powers-that-be were not going to worry about repairing my little vessel. We were all taken off one day and returned home soon afterwards in a British warship.”

Clearly, the veritable contribution of Ceylon volunteers to the Burma Campaign is another outstanding example of Ceylon’s involvement in the Second World War. My research so far indicates that 24 Ceylonese served in the Burma Campaign, (17 CRNVR; 5 CLI; one RAF and one 1st RWF). Interestingly, several of Ceylon’s Burma Campaign veterans later served in the post-independence armed forces, with two particularly rising to the rank of Commander: Major General A.R. Udugama (1964-1966) of the Ceylon Army and Rear Admiral Victor Hunter (1970-1973) of the Royal Ceylon Navy.

Although it is estimated that at least 200 Ceylonese or perhaps more were awarded the Burma Star, it is more than apparent, considering the broad eligibility regulations of the Burma Star, that many servicemen had not served in Burma itself, which is an important distinction to clarify.

Indeed, these historical revelations open a new chapter in colonial Ceylon’s military history, which until now remained under-researched. As such, I am hopeful that in time, I will be able to expand on this article with new sources of historical information, to reveal further, the involvement of Ceylon’s volunteers in the Burma Campaign.

Sergei DeSilva-Ranasinghe is interested in corresponding with people who can provide any further information or assistance to his research. Email: sergeidesilva@hotmail.com or PO Box 251. Batman. Victoria. 3058. Australia