- Chindit
Heaven
- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
- It all came
about in the clearings, jungles and hills of
Northern Burma, also the POW
- jails
of Rangoon. They laughed and pointed as they
watched the war graves personnel
- gather
and identify their mortal remains. From time to
time they frequent Ttaukkan and Rangoon war
cemeteries-that is when their relatives and old
comrades are making that special journey. They
like to drift amongst them and smile at the
pedestal memorials, smile at the inscriptions on
the Rangoon memorial. They are a friendly lot,
and they don't mind waiting for their old friends
to join them.
They are very private but not insular, they will
give a passing nod and a small smile to others
that they may pass-V Force, Merrills Marauders,
Mr Seagrim, they whistle and wave at the POWs as
they pass by the POW celestial 10 star hotel, and
the POW exclusive landing strip where the
celestial Concorde goes non stop back and forth
to take them home at their instant whim.
They do have a constitution: no rank no racism,
can argue-but is nothing more than a
- difference
of opinion, which does not matter at the end of
the day. Mules, Elephants, Oxen and spotty dogs
are allowed in their heaven-earthbound theology
has got that so wrong.
They can choose what they want to do every single
day-marching, fighting, rest period
- in a
glade, all they have to do is make sure they are
there for the air drops which always land smack
on the DZ and never miss. They can take the time
to study the earth, the green and the fauna. They
know were every good bivvy is and can walk
through the present day natives while the native
kids splash in the stream below, they are
clambering on the rail bridge overhead and
packing it, retreating to watch it go
"Kaboom" send signal through, success.
Back at the stronghold they can give a full
report, all ranks present, no casualties. They
can land gliders by moonlight as many times as
they wish, and it doesn't matter about
casualties-because as dawn breaks the casualties
rejoin the pals, if they have a wound or cut they
just blow on it and it disappears. They have all
the veterinary science and care for mules-the
mules have golden hooves, but they still smell,
as do the muleteers.
They are allowed to slip off and visit their
other families- and explain to them where they
were, what happened and why (that's in the
constitution). They have plenty of barbed wire,
ground artillery and ack-ack. An unlimited amount
of anti-personnel mines and the sappers know
where every one is. They trail, stalk and attack
the enemy everyday, carry out skirmishes,
banzais, run up hills at full tilt, clear
villages though the natives don't see them. They
cross streams and chaungs and have perfected it.
They lose men every day but it doesn't matter.
"Guest night" They get the best cheese
and fags dropped in the supply, and huge pots of
jam for the West Africans and the Gurkahs get
best quality rice and fresh vegetables. They get
two tots of Brandy per day per man, but they
still take the Mepacrine. Even the Padres are
happy-" I told you so-in my fathers house
are many mansions". They have absolutely
everything, but they don't rely on it-they like
to play the game, and only they know.
Guest night is when the enemy and they sit
opposite each other in a clearing, and the enemy
commanding officer stands up and says how sorry
he is for what they did, for what they caused the
Chindits to have to go in and do and then he bows
so low his nose touches the floor. The Chindits
say, "ok but we will be back tomorrow its
what we do"
If they have a quiet day, no enemy
objectives-they can play a favourite excersize,
grab a kukhri and a day's rations-the game is
called "Hunt the Stillwell". They still
apply their own code of conduct reference their
pals euthanasia, but it matters not a bit-because
only they know, they have been faced with the
truly ethical questions that so many shallow
minded people have debated from the comfort of an
armchair within the universities of the world.
They still maintain the strongholds, intelligence
gather, and stand to. They will repel any attack,
any incursion; they still have a favourite ridge
to sit on- and once a week the old sir sets up a
display for them. Just like a municipal firework
display. If they are ever in a tight corner and a
banzai would be nonsensical they call up their
own air force for a precision strike. At the end
of the day nothing matters, as those KIA on that
particular day just wander
- back
to camp at night.
When the Brigadier visited in 1997 they told him
it didn't matter and that they had the best bivvy
waiting for him. The other one? Perhaps he is
running round Palestine somewhere. Who can say???
There was the famous day when young Jack Rollins
came running through the minefield, waving
something above his head, and when they asked he
shouted, "Its me personal silk
poppies". Bill Clift shouted, "So what;
I did go to memorials you know you ungrateful
polecat, get back to your column fusilier"
They laugh at psalm 23 but only they know why.
They still get mail drops if they want them, but
some prefer to slip off and have a quiet word
with their loved ones, perhaps a hug, a chat or a
thick ear from Mother.
-
Chindits never die-they go
to heaven and regroup
They have already been to hell!
