Major Patrick Rome

(Some brief personal impressions of the second Royal British Legion Pilgrimage April 1990 from one, who, as a very young officer, fought and was wounded on Garrison Hill in April 1944 with 2nd Bn The Durham Light Infantry).

The pines still grow on Garrison Hill. Some, miraculously, are the same pines that witnessed the incredible courage and carnage of the fearsome battle that raged for weeks on the quite small summit of a once beautiful and peaceful hill, 5000 ft up in Nagaland. Other pines are the progeny of those former trees that were lacerated by shot and shell, burnt by raging fires and ghostly-hung with parachutes dropped with supplies and water to sustain the siege. Yet other progeny, the grandchildren of the Naga tribesmen whose gallantry was a by-word, and without whose help the almost impossible victory could not have been achieved, now wander happily and naturally, but respectfully, amongst the trees and  flowering shrubs of the Hill. The Hill known variously as Garrison Hill, Summerhouse Hill, District Commissioner's Bungalow, The Tennis Court. The Hill, one slope now terraced, now immaculately and reverently cherished to encompass the 1421 bronze faced gravestones of the magnificent but unbearably moving Cemetry.

The Hill, with its pine trees, was the hub, the vortex, the crucible of the mighty battle in 1944 that enveloped Kohima and the mountains around it. Still largely unknown and unrecognised by a world, perhaps understandably, obsessed at the time by events in Europe. But make no mistake it is a fact that the loss of this Hill could have led to the loss of the then Empire of India. The retention of this Hill thwarted the invasion of India by the Empire of Japan. The eventual breakout from this Hill led to the largest single defeat of Japanese Land Forces anywhere during the war.

So proud stand the pines on Garrison Hill. Proud and unconquered as were the men who fought and died and were buried amongst their roots. This Hill was, and is, a very special place, held sacred by the Nagas who recognise and revere courage.

On a high point of the Cemetry stands the Cross of Remembrance, on the marked~out Tennis Court, bearing this inscription: "Here around the Tennis Court of the Deputy Commissioner lie men who fought in the Battle of Kohima in which they and their comrades finally halted the invasion of India by the forces of Japan in April 1944". A long way below, standing at the apex of the vital road that the Japanese had to secure and which encircles Garrison Hill, stands the magnificent rough-hewn Naga Memorial Stone; erected by them in proud admiration, love and respect for the fallen and bearing the now well known and much copied epitaph "When you go home - tell them of us and say - for your tomorrow - we gave our today". This unique Memorial to the 2nd Division stands overlooking the junction with the busy street leading to the old Naga village, and centre of the present day Kohima. It was to be for all of us "old boys" revisiting the new and rebuilt Kohima after 46 years the first blinding moment of truth when we could say with certainty where we were! We had all become more and more silent in our coach as we were approaching Kohima up the mountain road in the fast-fading light. I, like others, thought that the silhouette of the Kohima ridge must be forever burnt into my memory and could never be forgotten. I, and the others, were fooled by the healing hand of nature and the busy hands of man rebuilding and restoring the utter devastation of the past but we literally arrived in the centre of Kohima without realising it. It was unreal. But I run ahead of myself.

Our pilgrimage started in the Union Jack Club in London on the eve of our departure, where we received our first briefing from the outstandingly competent Pilgrimage's Department and their Agents - Abercrombie & Kent. It would be almost impossible to fault the organisation, forethought, care and attention shown throughout a very strenuous trip. Our group of widows, veterans, relatives and friends, whose average age cannot have been far short of 70, and included one tireless and remarkable widow of 87, were shepherded with a most remarkable blend of efficiency and kindness which in my experience seldom go together. Some also had the pleasure of meeting two sisters of LCpl Harman, who won such a marvellous VC with the Royal West Kents, during the siege. They, sadly did not come on the pilgrimage.

Since this is an account of Kohima revisited I will not touch on our stay in Delhi or Gauhati, except to say that in both places we honoured the dead in their beautiful war cemetries. In this sad duty we were supported with outstanding efficiency and kindness by the Indian Army with Guards of Honour, pipers and buglers.

We arrived in Dimapur by air from Delhi, via Gauhati, on the Brahmaputra, flying eastwards parallel to the Himalaya; which responded by showing a number of its magnificent peaks above the clouds, We were quite quickly loaded into our coach for the 46 unforgettable miles into the mountains to Kohima. The road has not changed, though tarmaced, but I am sure there cannot be 100 yards without a bend. We only managed to hit two bridges which qiven the size of coach was a jolly good effort! By any standards it is a beautiful road through the steep jungle clad mountains that rise in places to over 10,000 feet, the terraced fields on the lower slopes some sign of "slash and burn' activity and the villages perched on the crests. This is a legacy of Naga headhunting, when in the not so distant past quite often one village would be "at war” with another. Our first meeting with the Nagas was during a "comfort halt" on the roadside, when we were joined by a group of very pretty girls, packed into two dilapidated cars, returning to Nagaland for their vacation from University in Delhi. Their friendly smiling laughing welcome, in excellent English, and their obvious knowledge of the significance of Kohima to us set the scene for our return.

Unreal. I have already said this to try to encapsulate in one word the overwhelming contrast between the present, bustling scene and 46 years ago, Then, the scene of utter devastation and death; the dead of weeks of intensive, unrelenting savage fighting unhallowed and unburied, friend and foe, Not for nothing did our Divisional Commander liken the scene to the notorious Hill 60 in the Ypres Salient, where he fought with gallantry as a young Subaltern in the first World War. Now, the rebuilt and enormously enlarged town covering all the hills which, like Garrison Hill, became scenes of most prolonged and bitter close-quarter fighting - Naga village -Church Knoll - Hunter's Hill - Kuki Picquet - FSD – DIS - Jail Hill - GPT Ridge – Treasury - Aradura Spur - Norfolk Ridge; not to mention Mount Pulebadze untouched still by man over whose precipitous jungle-covered slopes 4 Brigade cut and fought their way often literally in single file to outflank the Japanese to the South of Kohima.

Kohima, like all Nagaland, is now a Restricted Area requiring special permits for visits. In all but name under Martial Law, but whatever one’s sympathies, this is no place for political debate, The 8th Mountain Division of the Indian Army showed us nothing but kindness and understanding, courtesy and respect. Their smartness and efficiency were exemplary and, like the Nagas, their knowledge of, and admiration for the achievements of those who fought and died at Kohima was most touching.

I never did pinpoint our hotel "historically" speaking, except that we looked South to Aradura Spur and the New Roman Catholic Cathedral being built on its lower slopes. For various, political reasons, we never got to visit it, which was very sad. It will be a very impressive and striking building in a commanding position when completed. Bishop Abraham, a most charming, friendly and approachable prelate plans to consecrate his New Cathedral in April 1991 making it a place of Peace and Reconciliation, and a Memorial to all the fallen at Kohima,

My own arrival in Nagaland, apart from the sense of unreality already mentioned, was made memorable firstly by being greeted at the tiny airport in Dimapur by a young priest who bestowed on me a garland on behalf of Bishop Abraham; and secondly shortly after our arrival in our hotel, being welcomed by the Bishop himself, in his Land Rover. Both unexpected and undeserved honours - there can be few Bishops who come and spend an hour to welcome in person a weary traveller and his wife on a cold wet night, before returning to the Bishops House - in this case nearly three hours drive away - in Dimapur!

We awoke to find the clouds and mist covering the mountains and hastened to be driven to a special early Mass the Bishop had arranged for us at a Retreat House a few miles down the road towards Dimapur. We were accompanied by the wonderfully gallant 87 year old widow, Mrs Morrissey and her daughter-in-law who had joined us in meeting Bishop Abraham the night before. It was to be an unforgettable start to a memorable
and emotional day - the peaceful Mass with the friendly, smiling nuns who implored us to stay, but alas we could not.

By the time we arrived at the Cemetry for the Remembrance Service the sun had broken through the clouds and for the first time we could see the whole amazing panorama of hills and mountains stretching as far as one could see to East and North. We had all forgotten how high and how steep were even the lower ridges and hills already mentioned. Each and every one was a formidable obstacle on which a whole battalion could be, and was, absorbed and dispersed. Senior Commanders at Corps and Army Headquarters pressing for accelerated action to clear "The. Kohima Ridge" had no conception of the size of the country - until they visited Div HQ. Their inevitable amazement at the sheer scale of the problems is faithfully recorded by General Grover in his War Diary. Kohima itself seemingly huge with wooden, brick and stucco houses clinging to every available slope - there is no flat land!

The Cemetry is overwhelming,, I and unmanning, in its peaceful beauty and emotional impact. To find the plots of graves of so many friends you knew so well - so long ago - so young. But the smallish separate plots terraced into the hillside make it much more personal, more bearable than the large geometric rows of graves in some war cemetries. But as all of you will know who have walked along the lines of graves in a war cemetry suddenly to read a name well known to you has a physically stunning effect. The more so if he was a good friend. The name can often recreate the moment and exact circumstances of his death - often right beside you. No wonder we, the undeserving survivors, say again and again "why should I have been so lucky" Why should I have been blessed with a wife, children and grand children"? What have I ever done to deserve to be spared again and again"? But whilst to be again amongst one's young friends brings anguish, and even remorse, the peace and dignity of the cemetry slowly purges the grief, and one remembers to thank God for the courage and example of all those young men.

The Remembrance Service, taken by the Padre with our party, and attended by Senior Indian Army Officers, a Guard of Honour, buglers and pipers, was intensely moving as much for its setting as its content. I keep harping back to this theme of the wild beauty of Nagaland. I had always told my wife of the beauty of the surroundings, even in its state of death and devastation. I do not think she even really believed me until she got there and saw for herself.

The widows in our party agreed that they were overcome by the beauty and peace of the cemetry that they never expected. It. was, and is, to them a very real balm and a blessing that supported them through what must have been an agonising ordeal. Their courage and composure was an example of faith to us all.

We returned twice to the cemetry to wander in peace; to lay wreaths on crosses on "our" graves, sadly due to the nature of the fighting on The Hill a large number of those killed in my Bn have no known graves - "Known only unto God"; to talk to Atuo Angami, the charming Naga supervisor of the cemetry, whose father before him was the first supervisor and helped to create it; to talk to the friendly Naga's, children and grown-ups, who, as I have mentioned, walk in the cemetry as in a garden, peacefully and respectfully. They are a most admirable and attractive and fiercely independent people.

The children, all so neat and tidy, were somewhat overawed by the spectacle of large, grey and balding figures striding round the town. We seemed to develop a sort of "grandmothers footsteps" routine. We could hear chattering and laughter following us, but as soon as we stopped and turned around they would scamper away shrieking with nervous laughter. Only gradually would they pluck up courage to close up to us. They were utterly enchanting. Remember, that apart from a handful of intrepid individuals who have made the journey under their own steam there have only been three official groups of "white men" to Kohima in 40 years. Hence perhaps the real secret of the unspoilt charm of the people?!

On our last day we visited two villages South of Kohima, Viswema and Kiqwema, Both the scene of hard fighting by Brigade after the break-out from Kohima and prior to the fighting advance southwards towards Imphal.
I should perhaps very briefly explain the tactics of 2 Division's battle to hold and clear Kohima, After the lifting of the siege by 6 Brigade (of which 2 DLI were part) the main task of this Brigade was firstly to hold Garrison Hill and eventually to break-out from it. 4 Brigade carried out the astonishing right-hook through mountainous jungle to win a succession of bitter and bloody battles to clear ridges to the South of Kohima. 5 Brigade also had a most precipitous advance to the North to attack and finally capture the old Naga village area. These Brigades were to ones who relied almost entirely on the faithful Nagas to carry supplies and ammunition forward and the wounded back - climbing and descending several thousand feet in the process. It could not have been done without. them, So against all Military principles all three brigades were committed at once throughout the whole battle, losing two Brigadiers killed and one seriously wounded.

But to return to Viswema and Kigwema. In both villages we received an overwhelmingly friendly welcome; rice beer, which was surprisingly good; nuts and pulses; singing and dancing. The villages on their hill-tops mainly wooden huts, with wood-shingle or corrugated roofs and the most marvellous views of the seemingly endless, jungle clad mountains away Eastwards towards Burma, and all around. The people were neat and tidy, the majority with different multi-coloured tribal blankets - or the plain crimson blankets of the present or former headmen or other notables, As we were leaving Viswema a torrent of small children poured from the school and came face to face with us. A bit of a shock for them, but an enchanting experience for us. They were all ‘neat as new pins' in crimson jerseys, white shirts and blue kilts, or shorts for the boys. The contrast between the largely wooden and fairly dilapidated houses and the smart children was very marked. It was difficult for us to understand the evident degree of prosperity of the people who are well fed, well clothed and materially happy with the complete lack of evidence, agricultural or industrial, of the source of this prosperity. I suspect that with the political restrictions must come some degree of economic subsidy.

The final hours of our visit were on the one hand, frustrated by the visit to Nagaland of the Deputy Prime minister, of India resulting in a considerable security clamp-down; on the other hand were made pleasurable by an extremely enjoyable Reception in a Brigade Officers Mess in Kohima. A delightful experience reminiscent of so many other parties in other Messes with kind and attentive hosts and their wives. It terminated in the presentation to us a replica of the 2 Division Memorial, which I was bidden to present to HQ 2 Division in York, which I have done. As already mentioned we received nothing but kindness, courtesy and understanding from the Indian Army in Nagaland, combined with great efficiency.

The fighting around Kohima lasted for three months; my own first visit lasted 7 days; our visit lasted 3 nights! So many memories to be re-lived particularly for those who had fought all the way through, unlike me who was wounded very early on. We left before dawn, demanded by the security situation. As we drove down the road there was no mistaking this time the high-humped silhouette of Garrison Hill against the dawn light. As the road twists down the mountain the Hill disappears and reappears until at last in the full sunlight of a beautiful clear morning it disappeared for good. But even at that distance one could see that “The Pines still grow on Garrison Hill”.