Day Five
As a result of the settlement arrived at the previous evening in Castle Barracks, for the first time in three "days we were enabled to go to our offices and survey the damage done.
There was a desolate air about everything. The Barracks had lost its usual smart appearance. Refuse littered the huge quarter-deck. Offices were unswept and papers were strewn all over desks and chairs. In several, the doors were battered in, barely hanging on by their hinges. The ratings' canteen had been ransacked and many empty tins were lying about.
The clothing stores, or 'slops', was comparatively intact owing to a sense of responsibility exercised by some of the senior ratings on the office staff who had bravely prevented pilfering by their more hot–headed comrades.
The Commanding Officer, Captain H.R. Inigo-Jones, who had the rank of Captain and was a 'regular' in the Royal Indian Navy, grimly surveyed the depressing scene. Who knows what thoughts he must have had about this important establishment which he had efficiently commanded for some years, now reduced almost to a shambles? But the needs of the moment demanded his immediate attention. Turning to his First Lieutenant, Lieut-Commander Scott, in a brisk voice he ordered: "Please have the Strike Committee report to my office in an hour. I want to investigate a number of things."
Turning on his heel, he strode off to his office.
A little while later, a number of officers on his staff were summoned to give preliminary reports on the condition of the ratings and offices in their charge. The general tenor of these reports was the demoralization that had set in amongst the ratings and the need to restore speedily their sense of discipline and confidence in the Service. Easier said than done! For the clear understanding and trust that had previously prevailed was now bedeviled by the spirit of national revolution that was in the air, and the radical political changes impending as a result of the forthcoming Cabinet Mission visit to India. Moreover, the mutiny had dealt a severe blow to Britain's military prestige in India, now undergoing a rapid decline, which had begun after the INA trials.
The difficulty of restoring discipline became more evident to the CO after the meeting with the Strike Committee. It confirmed earlier impressions of the resentment felt by ratings at the way in which they imagined their grievances were being handled. As the Strike Committee left his office, I heard the CO mutter disconsolately: "I wish someone would bring Punnu Khan here to talk to these fellows." I undertook to do so in view of the acquaintance I had previously struck up with him.
I climbed into a jeep and instructed the driver to proceed to Talwar . En route, I could not help but notice the destruction at the dockyard where we paused to refuel and the rather mechanical air of the ratings and civilian workers as they went about their ordinary duties. The events of the past few days had seemed like a nightmare from which we were gradually emerging.
At Talwar itself the atmosphere seemed still more unreal. For the mutineers knew now that there was no longer any chance of prolonging the mutiny to secure quick redressal for their grievances. Furthermore, the troop reinforcements that had been rushed to Bombay from all over India, and from bases abroad, were overwhelmingly superior to the forces at the disposal of the mutineers.
I asked the Executive Officer to allow Punnu Khan to be taken under escort to Castle Barracks and explained the CO's purpose. Looking rather suspicious, the strike leader sat at the rear of the jeep.
"Why are you taking me to Castle, sir?" he asked, with what seemed a certain sharpness in his voice. "It's nothing to worry about," I answered him. "The CO will explain to you when we get there."
Appearing somewhat relieved, he relaxed a little in his seat.
As we sped along I asked for his views on the outcome of the mutiny.
"Well, sir," he declared emphatically, "we feel it is a good thing that it happened. At least the authorities know now that they have to deal properly with our problems."
"What about the civilian disturbances?" I enquired further.
"As you know," he commented, "we had little or nothing to do with them. Nationalism and continuing foreign rule have inflamed the masses."
"What do you expect to happen to you and the other mutineers in the immediate future?"
"We are not quite sure. We expect to be charged and found guilty of mutiny. But whether we shall have light or heavy sentences will depend on the Congress. They have promised to do their best for us. At least there should not be any victimisation of the leaders."
"What will you do if there is victimisation?"
"We shall wait to see if that happens," he retorted grimly, and his finely-drawn features hardened.
We were approaching Castle Barracks now, and the sentry at the outer gates saluted me, and gave a quick nod of recognition to Khan as he smilingly waved to him.
The ratings in Castle Barracks had somehow got wind of his arrival and thronged the entrance as he drove through, cheering wildly and waving their caps. It was more like a triumphal procession for him than being brought under escort at the command of the CO! But any member of the Central Strike Committee and the delegation which negotiated 'as equals' with the top ranking naval officers received a hero's welcome.
Khan was taken to the CO's office where he was told of the demoralised attitude of the men. He himself realised the need to instil confidence in them, if only to steel them for difficult days ahead when investigations and trials were likely to be held. But little did he know how soon they would be made to realise that the tide had now turned against them.
Shortly after he had ended his talk to the erstwhile mutineers a signal was received from HQ that Admiral Godfrey himself (FOCRIN) was going to broadcast a most important message that afternoon from All India Radio, Bombay to all ratings, and ships and establishments everywhere were required to listen in. In Castle Barracks the loudhailer system was checked and the ratings assembled on the quarter-deck.
Punctually at 2.00 p.m., Admiral Godfrey's voice came over the air, loud and clear. Expressing his deep personal sorrow at the recent events in the Royal Indian Navy, the Admiral declared: "I must tell you that the Government has vast forces at its disposal with which to crush the mutiny. It will accept nothing but unconditional surrender on your part, if this is not forthcoming immediately, the Government will proceed to employ all its forces against those who still mutiny."
At the famous words 'unconditional surrender', the ratings listened with rapt attention.
"I warn you against further resistance," the Admiral went on, "and advise you to lay down your arms now. The Government is determined to bring this situation to an end," he paused significantly here and then continued "even if it means the destruction of the Navy of which we have all been so proud."
At this last statement a gasp of incredulity went up from the entire assembly, including the officers. Many of the old veterans, both amongst officers and ratings, could scarcely conceal the tears in their eyes. For it was as if a part of them was being wrenched away, blacked out. This Service, to which they had devoted the greater part of their lives, and with which their thoughts and feelings had been so intimately bound, stood now in danger of imminent destruction. Perhaps it was a measure of the epochal times through which they lived that such a thing was not only contemplated but well within the bounds of possibility.
It was all over! After the broadcast the mutineers in all ships and establishments realised that it was futile to carry on. A profound sense of disillusionment was unavoidable. For the mutiny had doubtless conjured up visions of speedy demobilisation, return to 'civvy street' and their homes and families and a satisfactory settlement of their pay and other problems.
These visions faded at the prospect of abject and total surrender to overwhelmingly superior military forces. The virtual disavowal of the mutiny by Congress leaders was also a source of disappointment, though it was realised that the mutiny was neither organised by, nor figured in the plans of the Congress to gain independence.
Several ships now signalled the authorities their intention to surrender and await further instructions. Yet on some others there were the more hot-headed members of the crew who were all for fighting on. They believed that the Government would be extremely reluctant to carry out its threat, and that continued resistance would secure advantageous terms before drastic action such as bombing their ships would be taken. Furthermore, they believed that indignant public opinion would force the hand of Congress leaders to strive harder for to attain their goals. But these ideas were harshly dispelled when nineteen RAF planes flew over Bombay city as the Admiral issued another proclamation:
I told you that ample forces are available to restore order. The General Officer Commanding, Southern Command, General Lockhart, has been ordered by His Excellency the C-in-C, General Sir Claude Auckinleck, to assume supreme control in Bombay. To show you that ample forces are available, he has ordered a formation of RAF aircraft to fly over the harbour. These aircraft will not fly over ships nor take any offensive action provided there is no action taken against them. Should you now have decided, in accordance with my warning, to surrender unconditionally, you are to hoist a large black or blue flag and muster all hands on deck on the side facing Bombay city and await further orders.
Moreover, following on the Admiral's call for 'unconditional surrender' the Central Strike Committee at Talwar issued their own appeal. They stated that they had been in direct and constant contact with Sardar Vallabhai Patel who had been mainly responsible for making the Congress easily the largest, most efficient and effective political party in India and perhaps in Asia. Mr Patel had repeated on the night before that the mutineers must give in unconditionally and trust to Congress efforts to deal with their grievances and prevent victimisation. This advice the Committee finally accepted.
A hint of Mr Patal's advice had been dropped by those members of the Strike Committee who were drawn from various ships and establishments, though the official appeal of the Strike Committee was awaited. It was not to be unexpected that early on Friday morning, the mutineers in possession of the Hindustan at Karachi were informed by a senior naval officer that military action to capture the ship would be started unless they surrendered forthwith.
The mutineers were allowed until 9.00 a.m. for any ratings who wished to do so to leave the ship. No advantage was taken of that period and at about 10.00 a.m. a senior military officer called upon the mutineers to lay down their arms and abandon ship, as this was their last chance before action to seize the ship was taken.
The mutineers were warned that any men remaining on deck who did not surrender would be fired on. The only response was that some of the mutineers manned the ship's guns on deck. At 10.35 a.m. after the period of grace had elapsed, a strictly controlled rifle fire on individuals still on the ship's deck was opened by the troops. The ship returned the fire with heavy machine guns but the military still restricted their fire to sniping by individual riflemen. At this stage another ship standing nearby, HMIS Travancore , put out to sea.
The company of Hindustan then began firing with the whole of the ship's armament including 4" guns and it became necessary to open fire in return with field guns and mortars. Hits on the deck of the ship were observed when suddenly a white flag was displayed. The troops ashore stopped firing. Two launches filled with soldiers immediately put out to sea to take control of the ship. As they approached, a rating who had manned a machine gun swivelled it around and a burst of firing broke out. Quickly a sniper on one of the launches took aim and shot the rating on board, injuring him seriously in the shoulder.
As the troops boarded the ship, they received sullen glares from the mutineers. The officer in charge rapidly took control of the situation. He ordered the ratings to drop their weapons, turn around and raise their hands above their heads, while at the point of the bayonet the soldiers shepherded them on to the quarter deck.
Reported casualties were four RIN ratings killed and twenty-six injured. One British other rank amongst the troops was wounded. The ship's company were disembarked and a military detachment occupied the vessel.
In Bombay, as elsewhere, news of the call to surrender rapidly spread. As the curfew fell at 9.00 p.m. an eerie silence descended over the greater part of Bombay. With troops, armed police, pickets and armoured cars stationed at strategic points, the wider streets were empty. In the narrower by-lanes, small gangs flashed in and out in attempts to loot shops. They disappeared on the arrival of the police, and then re-emerged to try again.
These attempts were partly successful and amongst the shops looted were twenty-eight grain shops. The war-time rationing question still remained unsolved and resulting food shortages aggravated mob anger. The blame for the large-scale civil disturbances was laid at the door of the communists and the Congress socialists by official Congress leaders who stated there was a deliberate intention to discredit the party and Mahatma Gandhi.
Reports collated about the civil upheaval indicated the widespread violence which accompanied the disturbances, and also the enormous numbers involved. At one point in the mill area, during the day, police patrols were trying to cope with a mass of wildly excited rioters, estimated by some observers at thirty thousand. One policeman was killed and two police officers injured before a military party arrived and dispersed the mob with fire. In this area alone, some hundred and fifty people were wounded of whom thirty later died. In the notorious Bhendy Bazaar area a violent attack all but overwhelmed a police party including three officers, from two of whom revolvers were forcibly taken. Total police casualties then numbered thirty officers and ninety constables injured. Three of the latter died shortly afterwards. Estimated figures of civilian casualties were five hundred injured and sixty dead.
The last day of actual fighting by naval mutineers ended with grim forebodings of the future. The mutiny had set in motion a series of events which could have the gravest consequences. Many of its leaders had serious apprehensions as to their individual fate, since the Congress had not made common cause with them as much as they had done with the prisoners, especially Captain Shah Nawaz, in the INA trials of the previous year. Despite the assurances of Congress leaders, victimisation was a fear uppermost in the minds of prominent mutineers. They had no doubt that they would undergo a period of detention, but they were more concerned about the nature and timing of the forthcoming trials.
The mutiny had nevertheless made a deep impression on the minds of political leaders at all levels, and this was the case not least in the Central Legislative Assembly at New Delhi, and to some extent in the House of Commons.