A Mighty Endeavor (62 page)
The biplanes grew as they neared the ground. The snarl of the engines and the howl of the wind through their wings combined to make a deafening roar. The Hawks didn’t carry the additional sirens that were used by the Vought ground attack aircraft, but their effect on the morale of those below them was still devastating. The French infantry couldn’t stand. They were already out of their defenses and running for the rear when the 50-kilogram bombs exploded around them. By the time the air attack was over, Dieudonne’s left flank had collapsed as thoroughly as if it had never been. Now the Thai infantry were into his defenses.
The French fought as they fell back, firing their Berthier rifles from the hip. Officers tried to rally their men and used their pistols on the enemy who was enveloping them. It was fruitless. Some of the French troops rallied and tried to form a defensive line. They were too outnumbered, their tactical coherence already been shattered by the bombing. A few of their shots struck home. A handful of the advancing enemy fell. But the men of the platoon had no chance. They were either shot down while they fought or threw down their weapons and raised their arms.
Dieudonne drew his pistol and fired it until it ran dry, but his position was hopeless. As the green-clad infantrymen surrounded him, he threw his pistol to the ground and raised his hands. Behind him, he saw the positions on his right being rolled up as they were taken in the rear.
“Captain, please ask your men to surrender. You have done all that you can. There is no point in more bloodshed.”
Dieudonne looked at the Thai infantry officer standing in front of him. Again, memories of the First War came back, triggered by the German-style helmet. French intelligence material all said that the Thais used the Fremch Adrian helmet, but it was obviously wrong. He found himself wondering what else he had been told was mistaken.
Infantry Platoon, Second Battalion, 16e
Regiment d’Infanterie Coloniale,
French Indochina
“Sergeant, we need to get out of here.”
Lieutenant Roul gave private thanks that he had been positioned on the extreme end of the line. The dive bombing and artillery fire had been far enough away that his platoon wasn’t too badly affected. It also gave him time to see the platoon on the left dissolve under the ferocious assault and the first of the two platoons on the right of the road break up. His unit was next and he didn’t intend to sit still and let it happen.
“Down the road, quickly.”
The NCOs passed the word and the platoon started to fall back along the road. It was a race. The prize getting clear of the trap they were in before the jaws closed on them. The Thai infantry on the ridgeline to the north extended beyond Roul’s position. Their rifle fire was galling. Roul saw some of his men falling as bullets bit home. Other members of their squads tried to help the wounded back, but the delay meant they too fell from the increasing volume of rifle fire.
“Leave them! Everybody save yourselves. The Siamese will look after the wounded.”
Roul hated himself for giving the order but he realized he had little choice. More Thai infantry were already closing in from the South. It was going to be a very finely cut thing for any of his men would get clear. His order gave no indication about running, but it might as well have. The entire platoon, Roul included, broke into a trot and then into a full run. Roul’s humiliation filled his throat and made him feel sick. He was leading a rout, running away from a battle.
What would my father think of me?
The thought made tears stream from his eyes.
What was left of the platoon made it to an area of thick scrub and bushes about a kilometer east down RC-157. It wasn’t just that the scrub and
bushes provided cover; there was a slight, horse-shoe shaped rise around it that
screened him from view. Roul knew he had learned something today. Even a meter rise in the ground could be tactically vital. That one-meter rise saved his platoon from total destruction.
Even so, he looked back on the road and saw the lines of figures in horizon blue that marked the path of his rout. He had started the day with four sergeants, four corporals and 32 privates. Counting the men he had left, he could see private first class Leo Corneille, Sergeant Arsene Ambroise and one or two more.
How many men survived?
“Corporal Frenais; eleven men, sir. Three of them are wounded but can walk.”
It was as if the sergeant can read my mind. So answer me this. What do we do next?
“Very good, Sergeant. The Siamese will be clearing the battlefield and that will give us a chance to break away. We must head for Yang Dham Khung. That’s where the main body will be assembling.”
Dear God, I started this day with 41 men and now there 14 of us left. And we have achieved nothing.
Roul used his binoculars to watch the Thai infantry back at the position they had just seized. Three Vickers tanks and some trucks joined them. Some of the trucks had red crosses pained on them; stretchers were being placed in them. As one was lifted on, Roul caught a glimpse of horizon blue from the man on it.
Thank God. They are looking after my wounded.
Supreme Command Headquarters, Bangkok, Thailand
“We badly need those Ki-30s. If we had ordered them as I wished . . .” Marshal Plaek Pibulsonggram sounded reproachful.
“Politically, the order would have been disastrous. It would have linked us to the Japanese and ruled out any other options. There is more at stake here than just the fighting now in progress.” The Ambassador snapped the reply out. She was tired, despite managing a quick nap while flying down to Bangkok on her private Boeing 247.
“Our pilots are flying five or six missions a day. Because of that, we have already lost a Hawk 75N from a crash. The pilots are very tired. We cannot go on like this.”
“We can and we will.” The Ambassador’s voice was pitiless. “Every hope we have for the future now hangs on us defeating the French in Indochina. And we are defeating them. We have driven them back almost 30 kilometers and are only 20 kilometers from Sisophon. We have wiped out their border forces already. All that is left of them are groups of stragglers heading east.
“We know the French are assembling their main force at Yang Dham Khung. They have massed nine battalions of infantry, two battalions of artillery and a company of tanks there. When the French launch their counterattack from Yang Dham Khung, we will have 15 battalions of infantry, three of artillery and two complete battalions of tanks waiting for them.
“In the north, we have already reached the Mekong in Laos and are digging in there. North of the Tonle Sap, we are swinging across country, peeling off units to guard the Mekong as we move east. Above all, the fourth regiment of the Queen’s Cobra Division is swinging south to by-pass Battambang to the east. The first regiment of the White Horse Division is swinging north from Trat to the same destination. The other two cavalry regiments are heading for Phnom Penh. When they link up, the whole French Army in Indochina will be encircled around Battambang while we advance on Phnom Penh from north and south of the Tonle Sap. Soon, there will be nothing left between us and Saigon. The French have no idea what they are up against.”
Marshal Plaek raised his hand placatingly. “I know what we are achieving. And I understand how important those achievements are. I just fear for how long our Air Force can keep up its efforts.”
The Ambassador relaxed slightly. “Perhaps this may calm your fears. We captured these documents at a minor skirmish on RC-157. An affair of no great importance, except for the capture of these French intelligence assessments of our forces. Take a look at them.”
She handed the role of documents over and Palek read them. As he did, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. “These are completely wrong. The French seem to think we have copied their triangular division and regiment structure. They don’t realize our infantry divisions use the German square structure with four regiments per division and four companies per battalion. That basic mistake means they’re underestimating our strength by over a third. They put our army at 44 infantry battalions? Now that we are mobilized, we have
seventy-seven
and that increases as more reservists join the colors.”
“And those battalions are a third larger than theirs.” The Ambassador sounded very satisfied. “The Air Force need only struggle for a few more days, my old friend. Then, our pilots can rest before we deal with the Japanese.”
Anti-Tank Company, 3rd Battalion, 5th
Regiment Etranger d’Infanterie,
Yang Dham Khung, French Indochina
At least, this time, we have the high ground.
Here, the French forces were arrayed along a ridge that lay behind a twisting river.
It is,
Roul thought,
a good defensive position.
On the long march back along RC-157, he’d realized just how hard this part of Indochina was to defend. The ground sloped steeply downwards from the mountains along the Thai border, so anybody advancing from the west always had the high ground. This was the first point at which the geography changed. Here, the French positions were at an elevation of 30 meters while the low ground in front of them was, at most, 16 meters. What worried him was that the Indochina Army would be launching its counter-attack from these positions and would have to pass through the heavily-forested areas that lay between their ridge and the river. Roul’s two previous actions had taught him that the Thai Army knew how to maneuver and he suspected they would make good use of that jungle.
The problem was that Colonel Jacomy, whose “Groupement J” was assigned to conduct the attack, wouldn’t listen to anybody. Especially a Lieutenant whose sole contributions to the engagements over the last few days had apparently been to retreat as fast as his legs would carry him. Roul’s attempts to report on the actions he had fought and the lessons he had learned had been brushed aside with overt contempt. The survivors of his platoon had been assigned to reinforce an anti-tank battery belonging to the Fifth Regiment of the Foreign Legion. To an officer of the regular French Army, that was very close to being an insult.
The anti-tank unit had two Model 1934 25mm guns. Roul wasn’t quite sure what the third gun was. It had originally been a standard
Soixante-Quinze,
but the Legionnaires had modified its carriage drastically so that it sat much lower on the ground and was easier to move around. He’d arranged the three guns in a triangle, with the 75 at the back. The 25mm gun was light and underpowered, but it could deal with any tank in this part of the world. Roul was more worried about the Thai infantry. Against them, the 25mm was just a very big rifle. The Soixante-Quinze had explosive shells as well as solid shot and could put up an adequate fight.
“Interesting defensive position.”
Roul jumped at the unexpected comment. He looked around and saw Major Belloc, commander of the Foreign Legion battalion standing behind him. He jumped to attention and snapped out a salute.
“Sir?”
“Putting the
Soixante-Quinze
at the rear. How did you come to that conclusion?”
Roul took a deep breath. “Sir, I’ve fought the Siamese twice now. Each time, when they ran into opposition, they maneuvered us out of our defenses. They would never attack us frontally. They always pinned us down and then maneuvered against our flanks. If there was a position that was too tough for them to take with a quick attack, they would bypass it and continue on.”
‘‘Stosstruppen
tactics.”
“Exactly, sir. I’ve also seen the Siamese bringing up tanks. If we engage their tanks with our guns, they won’t fight it out. The tanks will pull back, they’ll bring up their infantry and try and outflank our position. So, I’ve got the two twenty-fives positioned forward to take on the tanks. Then, when the infantry move up, the
Soixante-Quinze
will be perfectly positioned to
support the anti-tank guns and we can hold out here.”
you?”
“Sir.”
“Hmm. Colonel Jacomy suggested I put you somewhere you can’t run away. Have you anything to say to that?”
Roul was outraged. “Sir, my platoon has lost more than two thirds of its strength fighting the Siamese. We held our ground until it was impossible to do so any longer,
then
we disengaged in as good an order as the circumstances permitted.”
“I thought as much. Anyway, Colonel Jacomy forgets that we in the Legion have no personal history, save that we make for ourselves here. But, I need to know everything you have to tell me about the actions you have fought. Soon, we will start our counter-offensive and try to drive them back. I think this will be a much harder fight than our commanders realize. By the way, you may be interested to know that two border guard battalions of the
Tirailleurs Tonkinois
have been dispersed. To all intents and purposes, they have been destroyed as fighting formations. They were so unwise as not to disengage when the circumstances dictated that course of action.”
1st Infantry Battalion, “Royal Guard,” 9th Infantry Division, Yang Dham Khung, French Indochina
“We have a chance to redeem ourselves.”
Major Wuthi Wirrabut spoke quietly in the pre-dawn darkness. A few years earlier, the Royal Guard battalion had made the worst mistake any military unit could make in a civil war. They had picked the wrong side. Following the coup that had ended the absolute monarchy, Prince Boworadet had led pro-royalist forces, including several infantry regiments, a cavalry unit and several artillery batteries, in a march on Bangkok to restore the traditional order. They reached the capital to find that most military units in Bangkok supported the government. The Royal Guard battalion had been the exception; they had sided with the traditionalists and shared in the defeat that had engulfed them.
The effect on the battalion had been disastrous. They had been reduced to company strength and lost most of their privileges. Only recently had they been restored to battalion status and received the heavy weapons their table of equipment dictated. That the battalion was still commanded by a major was a mark of how recently it had been restored to its original status. Major Wuthi was painfully aware that, even now, there was a question mark against the trustworthiness of his unit. After a moment’s thought, he resumed his comments.
“The French are moving up their forces while we speak. And not making a very good job of it, I might add. Our scouts say that their units are stumbling around in the trees and getting lost. They’ve identified two separate formations; a three-battalion group in the north and a two-battalion group in the south. It looks like they plan to start their attack about dawn.”
“Fifteen companies to our four.” Major Anansong Chirawatra, the battalion second-in-command, was thoughtful. “We will have to earn our redemption.”
“It’s not that bad. Most of the French units are understrength and have only two companies each. Third Infantry will handle the southern thrust. They have four companies and tank support, against five without tanks. They’re already moving out into ambush positions. We’re four companies against seven and we have artillery and armor. And once the sun comes up, we will have air support. I think this will be a fair test for us.”
“We must always try to be our best.” Major Anansong repeated the mantra cheerfully.
“There is no trying about it. We must perform better than our peers expect,;much better. When we were assigned to this division. Her Highness, the Ambassador, made it clear that she expected great things from us.” Major Wuthi paused for a second. “It’s not being reprimanded by Her Highness that frightens me so much; it’s when she forgives me afterwards that I get really scared.”
HTMS
Thonburi,
Koh Chang Anchorage, Thailand
“Have
Ayuthya, Maeklong
and
Tachin
left?”
Commander Luang Phrom Viraphan had completed the hand-over and taken responsibility for the squadron at Koh Chang. It was hardly a powerful force; the coast defense ship
Thonburi
as flagship, four torpedo boats and a minelayer. It was intended simply to deter any French attack on coastal cities to the west. That was where the minelayer came in. She would mine the waters between Koh Chang and the mainland. That would effectively bar the French from intruding.
Luang Phrom was keenly aware that his role, and that of the Navy in general, was purely defensive in this war. The major part of the burden was being carried by the Army and Air Force. The reports from Laos suggested that the war up there was already won and that all Thai territory west of the Mekong had been recovered. It wasn’t surprising that had happened so quickly; the pockets of ground were small and Luang Phrom doubted if the French troops up there had amounted to much more than a corporal’s guard.
“They pulled out a few minutes ago.” The communications officer had come up to the bridge with the signal lamp message. “They delayed their departure by a few minutes due to a French seaplane that was buzzing around. Now they are on their way back to Satahip.”
