The interesting and well documented Second World War Burma Battle of Imphal 15 April 1944 Officer casualty and post-war Cadet Forces group awarded to Major M.M. Duncan, Welch Regiment, sometime attached 1st Battalion, Royal Welch Fusiliers and 2nd Battalion, Suffolk Regiment, later Dumfries and Galloway District, Army Cadet Force. Originally from Glasgow, he enlisted into the Black Watch just before the outbreak of the war but was commissioned in February 1940. In late 1941 he sailed for India, and during 1943 was on operations in the Arakan with the 1st Royal Welch Fusiliers. Later that year he transferred to the 2nd Suffolk’s and saw further active service against the Japanese during their early 1944 offensive in Burma, and was wounded in action by a mortar shell during the Battle of Imphal on 15 April 1944. His time in Burma is well documented, both in his personal reminiscences, which are published online and titled: ‘A Hill Code-Named Pimple (And An Amazing Stroke of Good Fortune) - Short WW2 reminiscences of Lt Murdo MacLeod Duncan.’, and he features heavily in the book ‘A Battalion in Burma Second Suffolk in Arakan and at Imphal 1943-44’ by Mark Forsdike. He was latterly from 1955 to 1974 an officer with the Army Cadet Force at Wigtown, which formed part of the Dumfries and Galloway District, and he was awarded the Cadet Forces Medal in July 1968.
Group of 5: 1939-1945 Star; Burma Star; Defence Medal; War Medal; Cadet Forces Medal, EIIR Dei.Grat. bust; (MAJOR M.M. DUNCAN. ACF.) First four mounted swing style as worn, last loose and housed in its named card box of issue,
Condition: Nearly Extremely Fine.
Together with the following:
Ministry of Pensions King’s Badge, with card box of issue.
Army Cadet Force lapel badge.
Royal Lifesaving Society Swimming Proficiency Medal in Bronze, reverse engraved: ‘M.M. Duncan June 1936, housed in its fitted presentation case.
Royal Lifesaving Society First Class Instructor Lapel Badge.
Royal Lifesaving Society Lapel Badge.
Keil School Chief’s Medal, reverse engraved: ‘Chief’s Medal Murdo M. Duncan 1936-37’, housed in its fitted presentation case.
Royal British Legion Lapel Badge.
A lapel badge bearing Irish Gaelic script.
The recipient’s personal reminiscences of his time in Burma during the war, this some 79 pages having been printed from the internet, as edited from the original by M.I. Duncan, and titled: ‘A Hill Code-Named Pimple (And An Amazing Stroke of Good Fortune) - Short WW2 reminiscences of Lt Murdo MacLeod Duncan.’
The book ‘A Battalion in Burma Second Suffolk in Arakan and at Imphal 1943-44’ by Mark Forsdike, hardback, 237 pages, published 2024, the recipient being mentioned by name on pages 17, 20, 54-5, 59, 61-2, 66-8, 80, 84, 86, 88, 95, 102, and 111.
Murdo MacLeod Duncan was born on 1 July 1918 in Hillhead, Glasgow, Scotland. Educated at Keil School in Dumbarton, where he won the Chief’s Medal for the 1936-1937 school year, he then went on to St. Andrews University. With the imminent outbreak of the Second World War he enlisted into the British Army Reserve Militia as a Private (No.10338059) with the Black Watch on 15 July 1939, and having been mobilised, was then appointed to unpaid Lance Corporal on 13 September 1939. Posted as an Officer Cadet to the 166th Officer Cadet Training Unit from 12 October 1939, he was then discharged to a commission at Colchester on 10 February 1940, and posted to Cardiff on 24 February on his being appointed as a 2nd Lieutenant (No.2756603) to the The Welch Regiment.
On 10 March 1940 he was posted to the 4th Battalion over at Banbridge in County Down, Northern Ireland. Duncan attended a Sniper’s Course at Bisley in August 1940, followed by a course in Aerial Photography. Duncan was stationed at Keady in County Armagh from 11 December 1940, and he got married on 17 January 1941. He was then transferred to the 70th (Young Soldier’s) Battalion, Welch Regiment on 27 May 1941 whilst still at Keady, before being posted to his regimental Infantry Training Centre at Cardiff from 4 July 1941, and was then posted to the 2nd Battalion, Welch Regiment out in India from 8 October 1941. Initially stationed at Bombay, he was garrisoned at Bangalore from February 1942 as the officer commanding the depot there, before being transferred to Calcutta from March 1942, and to Madras from April 1942 followed by Conjeeverum in Southern India where he was the officer commanding ‘D’ Company.
Duncan’s highly readable account of his time on active service is detailed in an article in the Scots at War website titled: ‘A Hill Code-Named Pimple - Short WW2 reminiscences of Lt Murdo MacLeod Duncan.’ and also, he features by name on numerous pages in the book: ‘A Battalion in Burma Second Suffolk in Arakan and at Imphal 1943-44’ by Mark Forsdike. I quote however from the personal account on Scots at War which was recorded by him in March 1997 over two 90 minute audio tapes, which were then transcribed.
“…a few days later, the Adjutant came to me, he put his arm around my shoulder, and he said to me “Murdo, you are ordered to volunteer for Burma!” And so, Iwent up to the Arakan Peninsula and joined the Royal Welch Fusiliers (RWF) around June 1943 who, at that time, were literally fighting for their lives.”
Duncan was then posted to the 1st Battalion, Royal Welch Fusiliers from 8 April 1943 and joined them on active service in East Bengal and Burma from 29 April 1943.
“Because they were part of an all-British 2nd Division - Crosskeys Division because of their badge - which had been trained in joint operations and part of which had taken Madagascar from the French and now, four of their battalions were in the Arakan, and they’d been held up at a place called Donbiak. In fact, my lot, and the Royal Scots in particular, suffered badly in a place slightly north called Indin and actually their Brigade headquarters had been overrun. The Brigadier, Brigadier Cavendish and his staff, all killed. And I would not be a bit surprised to learn that even at this late date, there are arguments as to whether they had been shot by the Japs or they had succumbed to subsequent artillery fire from our own forces trying to help the situation. So, four of us new officer reinforcements, joined the orderly retreat and eventually all the way back to India. I did actually get a bullet through, or a bullet hole in my bayonet scabbard, but that’s not a lot for people to cheer about.
“On that withdrawal, I remember two things very distinctly. Once when we were pretty well back, we’d been relieved, we’d gone through the relief forces, and I was detailed to take a bathing party. And what a pleasure that was, to get into the water and get all the dirt and mud of the slit trenches and foxholes wiped and washed away from us. So, I led this party down towards the beach and came to a barrier manned by Indian troops, who weren’t going to let us through although it was the shortest way. I just barged through. And did the same on the way back but this time their officer was ready for us and he came charging out, waving his stick. As soon as he spoke, I knew that he was a Scotsman. Waving his stick like mad, so I stepped to the side and waved my men on and I courted him. I grabbed hold of his stick and said ‘Here, steady on.” Then I apologised in the first place, then pointed out to him that these men, these men marching away and not even looking back to see how I was getting on, had been badly knocked about at Indin and they surely deserved to get to bath without any further annoyance, then asked him where he came from and he said Dunoon. He was a former pupil of Dunoon Grammar and he knew a lot of the Islay pupils and he seemed to have been especially fond of one redhead, Jean Whitford, a lovely, well I don’t know whether she was lovely because when I knew her, I was only twelve, and she about fifteen or sixteen, but I know that Murdo MacPherson remembers her very well. So,there you are. We shook hands heartedly, I saluted his sentry, and then doubled up the road to re-join my men.”
Duncan was posted out to the 19th Indian Division Battle School from 5 August to 20 September 1943. It was with the school that he had another close shave when on the wrong end of a bullet, and whilst fortunate to not be hit, others were, and at least one killed, owing to a mistake in the training plan.
With the onset of the advance into Burma, Duncan then found himself posted to the 2nd Battalion, Suffolk Regiment from 22 September 1943, and joined his battalion on 7 November 1943.
Duncan continues: “Now the 2nd Suffolks were part of the 5th Indian Division, whereas 2nd Division were all British – nine white battalions, one of the best in the whole army. 5th Indian Division was composed of three white battalions and six Indian ones. So, within the 5th Indian Division, there was 123 Brigade which were 2nd Suffolks, a battalion of the Dogras and a battalion of Punjabis. May as well add that the other two white battalions were the King’s Own Royal West Kent (4th Queens) and the 2nd West Yorks, and that one of the three brigadiers was Geoffrey Evans, later Lieutenant-General Sir Geoffrey Evans who wrote a lot on the Western Desert and of the Burma War.
“I joined B Company of the Suffolks and the O.C. was so typically English that he used to call his Platoon Commanders to his headquarters by means of a hunting horn. We are spread out admittedly over an area of about 300 yards square but that was typical of him. My platoon, to start with, were on a neat little hill only about thirty feet high but with some trees reaching to a greater height. A good position but painfully obvious because it was sticking up among the paddy fields. One night, a party of Japanese came up the river, the Naf River, and they fired a shot or two here and a few more there. We heard it of course and we stood to with every man at his emergency post and an arrangement which we did automatically at dawn and dusk every day, these being the most dangerous times although Japanese attacks came in with wild shouting and shrieking at any hour of the night. Well, we stood to and almost immediately stood down because a Punjabi battalion behind us fired and we afterwards heard it reputedly fired thirteen hundred rounds of 303 and eighty mortar bombs and all we could do was to cower in our trenches.
“All our units were carrying out lots of patrols, day and night, trying to determine the exact positions of the enemy, trying to estimate their strength and I will very shortly try to describe a couple of patrols I was on and which I will never forget for very good reasons. Meanwhile the high hiedyins decided to launch the grandest offensive on the last day of December 1943 and again my lot were lucky because it was the Royal West Kents’ brigade with Rajputs who were sent to clear a Hill 124. Hill 124, rising only to that height above the paddy fields. Imagine that! A hill only one hundred and twenty foot high and yet it held up that advance for eight days. And that small hill held out for so long because of excellent Jap positioning and heavy fire and an incredible bunker system; timber and earth, and so effective our side thought they were made of concrete. I watched dive-bombers and tanks failing to clear them and then the Jap readiness to bring down artillery and mortar fire on their own positions if our troops and infantry got too close. Of course, the Japs would have fired a very light signal then dived underground and our chaps would be caught out in the open.
Duncan found himself briefly in hospital at around the beginning of the Japanese advances in early 1944, but was then with the 123rd Brigade when it was flown down to Imphal on 19 March 1944, and occupied some positions 80 or so miles north of Kohima., before being sent back to Imphal.
“Japs got within about ten miles of Imphal, with its Headquarters, vital supply dumps and airfields. And our division guarded it to the North and the East. Now one hill dominated the northern part and it was called Nungshigum. Not actually a hill but a four-mile-long ridge, several peaks rising to thirty-seven hundred. Now remember the base of that peak would be about 2,600 above sea level. So up to thirty-seven hundred and very steep near the summit. The Japs took it but couldn’t be allowed to stay on it and, after a couple of failed attempts, a full-scale attack was planned. Now, the Suffolks and I were about 4 miles away across the paddy fields and we heard, we didn’t see, we heard an awful lot….
“From our positions, we carried out many patrols eastwards into the hills. One I was on, picked up a lot of Japanese money but nothing else to be seen there so, we got back down onto the plain and headed straight for our lives across the paddy fields. The Iril River ran along this. Now you couldn’t possible find this on a map but was important to that area. I had five men, there was no danger at all, so we went on the home straight, dead straight for our lines, and came to the river and crossed it. Down muddy banks, wading across, there wasn’t really any current, the water was only up to slightly more than waist height, waist depth for me, up steepish muddy banks again and, do you know, we had to cross that river six times in about a mile and it almost killed us. And to make matters worse, three of our light tanks appeared from goodness knows where about two hundred yards to our left, going in the same direction and they kept level with us the fools! And so, as happened, drew some artillery enemy fire. Led my platoon and a dawn attack up on a conical hill and it looked very dark and forbidding in the half light. However, got up to the top without a single shot being fired and within about thirty seconds I wirelessed back asking for permission to vacate the hill because we were ankle deep in diarrhoea and that was the state that these poor Japs, or maybe dysentery, had got.”
Easter Sunday 1944. “A few days later, and by the way, I ask you if you’re firing at the enemy, can you be sure you’ve killed someone, in case they killed you. Can you be sure even if you saw them falling? Well, two days later I had to be sure because a Jap, only about the width of the room, ten yards away perhaps, came at me so I had to be sure of getting him. And to this day, I can still see the surprise and agonised look on his face. He was ahead of others but my men accounted for them, three of them, afterwards. This incident occurred near hill 4057 from which we’d seen the attack on Nungshigum.
It was on 15 April 1944 that Duncan was wounded in action.
“I was ordered to take over a completely new position on a rounded mole, topped with some trees. So, we had to start digging in again and it was practically sold rock. I had some Gurkhas with me, I don’t know why, but they were soon burrowing down with their entrenching tools. I did what I could and got down maybe twelve or fifteen inches, with one or two rests I admit, and sat in my new slit trench trying it out. Very comfortable, I was in a bath, I could rest elbows and forearms on the level ground, so I sat there looking round.
“Gurkhas still burrowing away, some other Suffolks doing what they could, some had given up, one soldier obviously writing a letter and of course there had been no firing of any sort from either side. It was peaceful. So, I turned around as best I could, sat down facing the other way, looking in that direction, when BANG! A mortar bomb hit the tree above me and I felt my left leg go. What excitement and what digging thereafter!
“The stretcher bearers excited as well, had to treat a casualty, not too messy a casualty at that, although no real need for me to point out that that mortar had come just seconds, say fifteen seconds earlier, the piece of metal would have come down somewhere around my right ribs. One of the stretcher-bearers asked me if I could waggle my toes, and I could, and he said “well so your leg isn’t broken anyway”. My tibia smashed. After a bit of an argument because I didn’t think it would hinder me too much, I handed over the platoon, said cheerio to the chaps and then began a very painful descent of the hill on my bottom holding my gammy leg up as best I could.
“And down there, an even more painful journey standing on the back of a truck while it belted across the dried paddy fields and associated bunds to the casualty clearing station. From there, perhaps three days to when I was comfortably in a hospital in India and subsequently downgraded from A1 and that was the end of my active service in the Burma War.”
Duncan was eventually embarked from India for the United Kingdom on 18 April 1945, and having ended the war on home service, was ultimately released from service on 2 April 1946.
Duncan went on to be recommissioned into the General List as a Lieutenant with the Army Cadet Force on 11 February 1955 when serving with the detachment at Wigtown in Scotland. As a Lieutenant and Acting Major and serving in the Dumfries and Galloway District, he was awarded the Cadet Forces Medal in the London Gazette for 30 July 1968, and eventually resigned his commission on 1 January 1974, being granted the honorary rank of Major. Latterly residing in Edinburgh, he died on 4 May 2002.
