Extract from local newspaper- VETERANS of a daring special forces landing 200 miles behind enemy lines in Japanese-occupied Burma have flown back exactly 60 years later. Members of the irregular Chindit group - a forerunner of the modern SAS - flew in by glider on March 5, 1944.

The group included Jack Lindo, 84, from Toxteth, who made his first return to Burma yesterday since the end of the war, He said before he left: "I want to see how it has changed because I was in Rangoon when the war ended. "I saw the Japanese actually coming in to sign the surrender forms. They came up with their swords by their sides and were told to unbuckle their swords, two little fat men."

The group's mission was to establish a position, codenamed Broadway,which was the first of allied bases in Japanese Burma. The operation is seen as a landmark moment in World War II and helped prevent the Japanese advancing on India.

We were glad to reach Mandalay, and made for the railway station.
Again we had to force our way through the masses of humanity to get to the platform of the station. After a period of time the train finally arrived, and we were shown to some individual
compartments. Our party was not together on the train, we were separated about six per compartment.

A Meal of sorts was served-up, with "rice" an ingredient, which was to haunt us for most if not all of the meals. Each compartment was independent with a cook? Kitchen? Toilet?? Bunk beds and seating. The beds were seats converted into some semblance of a bed and very uncomfortable. The cook also made the beds and did the tidying-up?

We had boarded the train at 17.30 hrs and waited and waited for the train to move off.... We
continued to wait for almost six hours, until the train finally started to move just after 11.00. hrs. We rumbled through the night, "rumbling" being quite a polite word for the movement of the train. At every station there were always "hawkers" selling fruit, mostly bananas. Having traveled on trains in India many years ago I did not expect a great deal of comfort and was not disappointed. The journey was a nightmare, but after the best part of two days we arrived at Myitkyna. It was here in Myitkyna that I landed in a light aircraft after having been wounded. It was not an airfield, but was intended to be so when the Americans had finished it. That piece of partly leveled ground, with aircraft taking off on bombing raids and for supply drops, is now the main road Every form of transport (mostly bicycles) now use the latter day airfield.

Everywhere one looks there are bicycles- literally hundreds of them.

A service had been arranged in the cathedral, and I was given the great honour of laying a wreath at the Alter on behalf of former comrades. I went to the Alter made the sign of the cross and laid the wreath. I stood at the Alter, remembering those men of the 1st Chindit operation many of whom on reaching Myitkyina, were captured or killed.
I was later told that it was a very moving sight for the onlookers.

After the church service we walked down to the Irrawady River, so peaceful now, but was a "hell hole" during the conflict, a place were many battles took place and so many hundreds of men lost their lives. We left Myitkyina in the afternoon and boarded the train to Moguang.
We pulled in to Moguang station which was again thronged with people, again selling all manner of wares.

Moguang.
That name invokes a lot of memories for me, none of them very pleasant.
Moguang was the first town in Burma to be taken back from the Japanese, and it was the Chindits who did it. It was however only after some very hard and brutal fighting that this railway town was taken. I was wounded at Moguang and evacuated out in the light aircraft I mentioned earlier. I remember that I had to sit on a plank with my legs hanging over the pilot's shoulders, as there was only room for two, one badly wounded on a stretcher and myself You can probably imagine therefore what memories the town held for me. Some very fierce fighting took place before the bridge leading to Moguang was taken. The bridge was taken by Chindits of 77 brigade.

Our pilgrimage leader was aware of my involvement in the battle for Moguang and asked me to lay a wreath on the bridge. I again (almost 60 years on) walked onto that bridge, a bridge which remarkably has changed very little over the intervening years, perhaps a lick of paint that was about all. The bridge is called the "Pin Me" bridge. I laid the wreath on the ground with the memories of all those who had died flooding back to me.

It was a very very moving moment for me, as it must have been for all those watching. We were all very silent for a while.

I particularly recalled a very gallant and courageous officer Major Monteith who lost his life on
that bridge, I can still hear his scream today, as he was shot in the back by a Japanese sniper as he turned to call the Chindits on to the bridge.

So we left Moguang and those haunting memories, and boarded the train towards Mawlu and the "White City" and "Blackpool" blocks. It is said that the fighting at Mawlu and the hill approach to the Pagoda was mediaeval in its ferocity. A Victoria Cross was awarded to a very gallant officer who, although having one of his arms sliced off, carried on fighting until he dropped- He died shortly after, but not before saying to Brigadier "Mad" Mike Calvert "Did we do our stuff sir?"

The battle for Pagoda Hill will live long in the memories of Chindits.
So we moved on towards the "Blackpool" block (a jungle strong hold) where again fierce fighting took place, a place which could not be held against a superior Japanese attacking force. Upon reaching the locality of the Blackpool block, we found that it was necessary to be taken to the actual site by Bullock cart.

If you have never ridden on a cart pulled by bullocks, you will have no idea of the misery and
discomfort this mode of transport can inflict The track was unmade and full of craters, there was no proper seating, just hard boards with one's legs out in front, I had bruises were I had never previously had bruises. Upon reaching the site of the Blackpool block we carefully extracted our selves from the cart and began to move around the area, which is now a quite baron wasteland I was again asked to lay a wreath at the site. I stood reflecting on those terrible times and said my own silent prayer. A great many of my comrades and friends died here.

Another horrendous journey on those blasted bullock before we reached the train which was to take us back to Mandalay. We arrived early in Mandalay and were taken to a hotel for a much-needed wash and brush-up and a meal of? yes of course rice!! And a sort of meat? We relaxed for the rest of the day in preparation for our tour of the area the following morning.

On the following morning we were taken by coach for a tour of Mandalay. The tour included a trip to Mandaly Hill.

On the following day we boarded a coach which took us to Maymyo and climbed a very dusty road to the "Hill Station" This was a place once used by the Europeans as a place to visit on hot summer's days. We continued our journey on towards Maymyo along some very steep and winding roads, we finally reached the boarder with China and fully expected to go through the usual boarder checks, but surprisingly after a chat between our driver and Chinese officials, we were allowed to carry on to Maymyo.

On arrival we encountered the usual beggars asking for "Bakshesh" (something for nothing) and although feeling very sorry for them, it is not good policy to give them money, as one would be immediately surrounded by a great many more.
We had a meal of sorts and then wandered around sightseeing and looking in shops of this ancient town.

Quite unexpectedly a member of the party said he had just met an old Gurkha soldier in a shop
close by. A few of us found the shop and met up with this old Gurkha warrior.
He was delighted to see us and we spoke with him asking where in Burma he had served.
It was fascinating to listen to him and although difficult at times to understand, it transpired that he had in fact fought with the Chindits and was at the jungle stronghold code-named "White City". We promised to call back the following day with a couple of our fellow Chindits.

We stayed the night at a small hotel and the following day, as promised, we returned to the shop which it transpired was owned by one of his sons. The old Gurkha had donned his old uniform in readiness for our visit and was beaming as we arrived. I gave him a Burma Star badge which I had in my jacket lapel, he was delighted and we took some photographs of our little group of old warriors with my new friend wearing his Burma Star badge.

That afternoon we left Maymyo and headed back to Mandalay. We were given a meal before our return journey to the airport and our flight to Rangoon. We landed at Rangoon and returned to the wonderful Inya Lake Hotel. We had a few leisurely drinks at the bar and a walk around the beautiful lake before our tour of old Rangoon and a sunset visit to the Shwedagon Pagoda.

The tour of old Rangoon was very memorable. We stopped at a number of market sites and the whole place was teeming with humanity, a very different site from the last time I visited The war was still on and the populace was very sparse.
I asked the coach driver if he knew where the railway offices where and he said he would take us there. We arrived at those same railway offices (again very little changed) and stopped for a closer look. I told the coach party that this was where I was billeted the last time I was in Rangoon- These were the actual offices where I was based when I heard that the war was over. What a memory that conjured up.

We visited the former Governor's residence for drinks and a light buffet. Later in the evening we set off for our visit to the Shwedagon Pagoda. This was a most awe-inspiring visit. The Pagoda is quite magnificent with a domed roof covered in Gold. The whole area is just like a small town with shops/market stalls everywhere. Smaller pagodas surround the main building with people worshipping everywhere. It is like a visit backwards in time, little seems to have changed over a great many millennia.

Htaukkyan cemetery.
The following morning we boarded our coach for our trip to the Htaukkyan cemetery and our service of remembrance. After the service we wandered around looking at the graves of the men who had paid the full sacrifice in that war. I found the graves of a lot of my former comrades and friends and finally found the grave of my mate Johnny Deakin. Johnny the "cheeky one" who lived only one hundred yards from where I lived in Liverpool. Now here we were back together again. It was a very moving moment for me. I asked one of the party to take a photograph of me standing at his grave in the hope that he would send it on to me. I intend to forward it on to his relatives in Liverpool. I am still hoping he remembers.

I also remembered being with a friend called Johnny Laidlaw, in Moguang and those very last moments when he lost his life in battle. I remembered as we attacked a village held by the Japanese, Johnny saying "I'll go this way Jack", I remembered hearing his screams as he was hit by the full burst from a machine gun.

It is strange, I felt so bad walking away from that graveyard. It is beautifully kept and a credit to all those involved in its upkeep. So the pilgrimage came to an end and the next day we were taken to the airport for our flight home via Bangkok and subsequently on to Heathrow.

I was felling quite unwell on my arrival at London after a ten hour flight. It later transpired that I had Bronchitis. I was saved from a significant onward flight delay to Manchester, by two lovely ladies; Anna and Angie, Mother and Daughter, they had also traveled back from a far-east pilgrimage (the same flight as mine). They took me "under their wing" to get me back to Manchester via an earlier flight.

They let me use their mobile phone to let my Daughter Barbara and her husband Bob know I would arrive at Manchester earlier than anticipated. I am so grateful for their intervention with the airline company on my behalf. At Manchester airport I said goodbye to my guardian angels and was taken home by Barbara and Bob to their house.

To say that I was tired is to put it far too lightly and after a meal at Barbara and Bob's I finally arrived home. Feeling tired I decided to "rest my head" for an hour, this was about 4pm. I woke briefly at about 9.pm but then slept through until about 0900 the next morning.

So here I am back home. I can hardly believe it after how grueling the experience was, that I
survived it. I felt every day of my 85 years of age.

Afterwards.
On boarding the train after the visit to the Blackpool Block We traveled parallel with a narrow
road virtually more than a track and I immediately recognised it as the road we had attempted to cross all those years ago to get into the "Blackpool" block It was on this very road that we of 82 column had been ambushed, at least that is what we always assumed happened, it is also possible that we were just unlucky to have bumped into a Jap column moving up to attack the block I don't suppose we will ever know the truth of the situation.

As I gazed out of the train window I remembered that very black night when all hell was let
loose. Ten platoon under Captain Freeman attempted to put in a bayonet charge, but the night was so black, it was impossible to tell friend from foe. The mules were running around and I was knocked flying to the ground, I picked myself up and found myself completely alone. Everything was complete chaos. We were told before setting off to cross the road that if we encountered any problems, we were to make our way back to the last stopping place.

This talk proved quite prophetic, so I decided to do just that and began to make my way back down the road I stopped for a while to gather my thoughts, when I heard footsteps approaching. It proved to be another member of the platoon, doing the same as myself. Others soon joined us and we eventually made our way back to join 77 brigade who were preparing to attack and capture the town of Moguang. What strange feelings came over me as I watched that road disappear behind the train. I seemed to take it all in my stride at 20 years of age, but I shivered now at the thought of what could have happened. The Japanese at that time were not taking prisoners and some of our column who were captured that night were immediately bayoneted. These executions were witnessed by others from the column, from their jungle hiding places.

That infamous road and that terrible place were now behind me in more ways than one.
All of these memories are so vivid in my mind, even after some 60 years.
The chaos that "ambush?" caused will live with me forever. One minute it is a still and quiet night, then "bedlam".

I wish I were able to thank a loyal Burmese villager for saving my life that night.
He found me, hid me out in his humble home, gave me food and rest for the night and at great risk to himself and his family. The next morning he guided me back to where the rest of column had gathered. I was grateful and said so, but again, how we accept these things and then just carry on. It is only now that I appreciate the enormity of that gesture and my certain fate had I been captured.

Yes; that was the self-same road all right and how lucky I was to have been able to return to see it.