By Alan Davidge
Another concert in a hospital ward for more British soldiers–this time for wounded from the front line near Kohima, brought down to Dimapur for treatment. Vera Lynn saw two severely wounded men and, wanting to do whatever she could to ease their suffering, she walked over to their beds. She took one in her arms and sang to them both, delivering their own personal concert with the “Forces’ Sweetheart.”
Nearing total exhaustion after almost two months in Burma, Lynn would return to England soon after this concert. But she didn’t want to leave without completing her mission to raise morale with songs that would comfort and energize the men of Gen. William Slim’s “Forgotten Army” who were fighting one of the most brutal campaigns of World War II.
In her 2017 autobiography, Lynn explained that she went to Burma “to get as close as I could to the actual fighting. For me this meant going to meet the troops in person; it meant doing everything I could possibly do to support them and let them know that back in England we were all thinking about them and willing them on.”
Born on March 20, 1917, in London’s East End, Lynn’s singing talents were apparent early on. At seven, she was singing in working men’s clubs. By 11, she wanted to be a professional singer. She left school at 14, performing with big-name bands like Billy Cotton, Charlie Kunz, Joe Loss and Ambrose, the “Glen Millers” of Britain in the pre-war era.
In 1939 she recorded her first signature song, “We’ll Meet Again,” an instant hit for the wives and girlfriends of men overseas— “Don’t know where, don’t know when/But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.”
Lynn followed with “Goodnight Children Everywhere,” which resonated with the families whose children were sent to the countryside to escape the Blitz. “When the Lights of London Shine Again,” was a longing for the Blitz and its nightly blackouts to end.
Her second signature song was 1941’s “White Cliffs of Dover,” imagining the homecoming of British airmen who had been “braving those angry skies” to take the war to the enemy.
Before Hitler could begin his planned invasion of England (Operation Sealion), he had to dispose of the one thing standing in his way—the Royal Air Force. Through the summer and autumn of 1940 the skies of southern England were filled with Spitfire and Hurricane fighters beating back the Luftwaffe. The losses persuaded the Führer to bomb England into submission instead.
London was the main target, bombed continuously for more than three months. Londoners held firm into 1941 and Hitler realized that the British people were not so soft. By that summer, his attention had turned to the Eastern Front and the invasion of Russia.
The RAF had supported the country through its darkest hours, but the people had proved they could withstand Germany’s worst. They realized that to give in meant being overrun by Germany and the end of life as they knew it.
Fortunately, support networks had started to appear, and Lynn was the epicenter. In April 1940, the BEF voted her top vocalist, ahead of Judy Garland and Bing Crosby. Soon “The Forces’ Sweetheart” was a daily presence on BBC radio, the lifeline between those at home and their loved ones overseas. In 1941 Lynn began her weekly request program “Sincerely Yours,” aimed at overseas troops.
Most evenings Lynn was also performing in London. Her popular “Applesauce” review with Max Miller was interrupted when the Holborn Empire was bombed, so they moved it to the London Palladium. Impromptu concerts at munitions factories and hospitals—anywhere she found people—filled her days.
She could have kept on this way, and since she had married in August 1941 she had every reason to remain settled in a role that kept her out of harm’s way. But Lynn wanted to do more and joined the Entertainment National Services Association (ENSA), which sent performers to battle zones. Given the risks, there was a shortage of top entertainers and the droll British Tommies rebranded ENSA as “Every Night Something Awful.”
Vera met with ENSA co-founder Basil Dean for advice on where to go, given that troops in Italy and the Middle East were already well supplied with entertainers. She wanted a destination where she could do the most good and which was in the greatest need of a morale-boosting performer.
Without hesitation, the answer was “Burma.” It was a word often whispered in Britain, for in the mind of the populace, serving in Burma was a death sentence with extreme heat and disease and a foe that paid little heed to the Geneva Convention.
Japan had announced its ambitions for Southeast Asia and the Pacific at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. In the following months the Imperial Army left a trail of gratuitous slaughter as it took over strategic locations. In January 1942, the Imperial Guards Division massacred 150 British and Indian troops who had surrendered at Parit Sulong in Malaya. Some were beheaded; the rest were bound with wire, machine-gunned, set on fire and run over by trucks. After the fall of Singapore, Japan planned to kill 50,000 Singaporean Chinese and other “anti-Japanese” elements. Estimates put them halfway to their goal within a month.
In early 1942, Japan wanted Burma and its seaport capital of Rangoon as a starting point for the overland supply line to its old adversary China. Like India to its west, Burma was part of the British Empire and had a small defense force as most British troops were occupied in North Africa and the Middle East. To secure its position, Japan set up a puppet regime and established an alliance with neighboring Thailand.
In the next few months, the Burma Corps were forced northwest to the Indian border, eventually establishing a strong position in the coastal area of Arakan. A newly formed Chindit force under Brigadier Orde Wingate launched daring raids into the interior to cut Japanese supply lines.
In 1943 Lord Louis Mountbatten took over as the supreme commander of the war in Southeast Asia, with a newly promoted Lt. Gen. William Slim in charge of the 14th Army, which was to become the driving force in the Burma Campaign. Slim trained all of his men in jungle warfare—noting the enemy would treat clerks, cooks, drivers, and medics the same as combat troops.
Slim’s strategy was to consolidate his forces near the border, fighting defensively to weaken the enemy. When the 14th Army had developed the necessary skills and knowledge of the terrain, they would push forward and liberate the whole of Burma.
In March 1944, Japan sent its troops across the border at Imphal in an attempt to take India and the 14th Army was engaged in ferocious face-to-face battles along the Kohima Ridge. It was into this inferno that Britain’s songbird planned to fly.
On March 23, 1944, a Short Sunderland flying boat left England’s south coast for Gibraltar–the first of nine stops over two weeks–carving a wide arc across the Atlantic to avoid German-occupied France. She had no make-up artist, choreographer, or film crew. Her wardrobe was limited to her favorite pink dress and her ENSA uniform.
After a day’s break, Lynn and her regular pianist Len Edwards flew to Tripoli, Libya, then to Cairo, where Lynn performed for 3,500 Royal Artillery troops fresh from combat in southern Italy. A sandstorm forced them to hold three separate indoor concerts.
On March 29, Lynn and Edwards took off for Iraq but were forced to land in the Dead Sea. They flew out of Basra two days later, but had to turn back due to bad weather. Lynn held an impromptu singalong at a supply base. Then it was on to Karachi via the island of Bahrain, then Bombay, followed by Nagpur in central India, where they boarded a U.S. Lockheed Hudson light bomber to Calcutta. It was April 7, Good Friday, and Lynn found time for two concerts there before losing her voice. The sandstorm in Egypt had damaged her throat. To make matters worse, Edwards was hospitalized after an asthma attack, and the first concert was canceled.
Though unable to sing, Lynn visited men who had been fighting in Burma and transferred to the Calcutta hospitals. She later recalled: “I toured every ward and sat on every bed and chatted with everyone I met.” Along with the thrill of seeing her, the men heard news from home from Lynn, who had toured much of the UK and was able to establish a point of contact with most of them. Lynn’s daughter received a letter from a member of the Royal Armoured Corps years later who wrote, “There were 36 beds in the ward and she stopped and shook hands with every man, gave him a Red Cross gift, soap or handkerchiefs. When she came to my bed she gave me a lovely smile and asked where I lived. I told her I was from London, not far from her. I was bombed out and ran away to join the army!”
On April 10, an ENSA concert was held north of Calcutta, and the next day British soldiers queued up at a record shop for signed copies of the latest Vera Lynn singles. A day later, Lynn performed in a live show to raise money for the Indian Red Cross and took part in a newsreel and radio broadcast.
Lynn was paid £10 per week while she was overseas (approximately £550 or $670 today) but she passed her wages to Edwards, who was suffering the same hardships with no glory and without whose piano skills the concerts would not have been possible.
On April 22, Lynn and Edwards took a postal delivery plane to Chittagong, close to the border with Burma. Because of the dangers involved from here on in, ENSA’s responsibility was transferred to the British Army to escort Lynn to the front line and keep her safe.
She had arrived at a critical time in the Burma campaign. The previous month, Slim’s troops had scored their first victory against the Japanese and he could see that it was his tactics and training that had given the 14th Army the edge. It was known as the Battle of the Admin Box because of its rectangular site in a former administrative area that was turned into a defensive position besieged in the hilly jungle area of the Arakan region. It involved medics, clerks, drivers, and tank crews as well as the regular soldiers in ferocious hand-to-hand combat and got worse when Japanese troops ran through the medical tent killing 35 staff and patients.
Allied air drops of food and supplies ensured that Slim’s troops would not be starved into submission. Instead, they wore down the Japanese troops, driving them back into the jungle. It was a huge boost to the confidence of the 14th Army and a blow to the confidence of an enemy used to having its own way since arriving in Burma and had lined up India as its next conquest.
Confident in his tactics, Slim then withdrew to the Imphal Plain at the start of March. The enemy followed him, as expected, but also sent a division to the Kohima ridge, 100 miles to the north, hoping to eliminate the British units guarding it and cut off communications with Imphal. The fate of the Burma Campaign would hang in the balance over the next two months, as did the safety of everyone in this frontline zone, which from early April included Lynn.
At the time of the Calcutta concerts, the siege of Kohima in the central part of the ridge was already underway. Surrounded on most sides and with their main water supply cut off, British troops inflicted heavy losses on the enemy. The Japanese were forced off the central part of the ridge, largely due to the bravery of the 4th Battalion, Queen’s Own Royal West Kent Regiment, who held out under siege for 13 days. They were relieved on April 19 as the Japanese withdrew to the lower slopes. Like the British, they were dependent on their supply lines. Good coordination with the RAF meant that the 14th Army was better supplied, a key factor over time.
On Sunday April 23, Lynn visited a hospital and sang in its canteen. The response from men who had been living on the edge for months required police restraint. With paper in short supply, many soldiers got Lynn’s autograph on one rupee banknotes.
The next day, Lynn performed at the YMCA for 1,000 troops, signing hundreds more banknotes. This was followed by a rare show just for officers. On the 25th, there were two concerts for the RAF, then on April 26 it was off south into the hottest and most humid part of Burma on treacherous roads to “far away places with strange sounding names” like Cox’s Bazar, Maungdaw, and Ramu Airfield. Lynn and Edwards, who carried a .45-caliber Smith and Wesson on his hip, traveled in two vehicles—one held the piano, microphones, and a primitive PA system for when they stopped to sing.
As Lynn headed south along the Arakan Road, the Kohima Ridge battle was entering its second phase with Slim’s army attempting to eradicate the enemy from the lower slopes. After the Arakan leg of her trip, she would be heading toward Kohima.
Lynn threw herself into concert mode on April 26, stopping at a hospital for men of the 81st (West African) Division. These men from Nigeria, Gold Coast (now Ghana), Sierra Leone, and Gambia were also big fans. Lynn entertained troops from many cultures, including Gurkhas, Indians, and local tribesmen on her trip. She then sang for 3,000 troops at Dohazari rest camp.
Their 8.5-hour journey south along a bumpy track toward a section of the front line at Bawli Bazar included two concert stops en route, with one at a dressing station only five miles from the front. Despite the anxieties and privations of the combat zone the troops set up a hut for her with a dressing table and jungle flowers. The fighters had not lost their humanity.
On April 29th the show was back on the road, visiting first a coastal hospital and then a makeshift concert stage for an audience of 5,000 at the Ramu airbase on the Baghkali River, just inland from Cox’s Bazar, technically in India. In the extreme heat, Lynn slept little on a stretcher balanced between two kitchen chairs—a small price to pay for the privilege of being close to her boys.
The two-truck convoy arrived at 14th Army HQ in Comilla on May 3 for a week’s stay. Comilla boasted a town hall, which provided a better equipped venue for two more concerts, and the next day Lynn had her first meeting with a group of Chindits (a corruption of the Burmese word for “lion.”) The brainchild of Brigadier Wingate, this special force had been living practically native in the jungle behind enemy lines creating mayhem for the Japanese. She met the men after they were deloused and although she did not sing for them, she talked to them about life back home and signed autographs, mostly on jungle slouch hats.
Lynn sang for the top brass that evening, including Slim, Major General Snelling and Air Commodore Baldwin, commander of the new 3rd Tactical Air Force, which was made up of the U.S. 5320th Defense Wing and the RAF No. 221 and 224 Groups. For this event Lynn wore her famous pink dress that cost her a year’s supply of ration coupons in England.
Lynn gave two more concerts in Comilla on May 5, and had lunch with the junior ranks in their mess. The next day, Lynn visited a hospital and sang to a crowd of over 3,000. Two days later she toured two hospitals, dined in the sergeants’ mess, and performed in an open air concert for 3,000 men. The following day, May 9, she toured hospitals and held two evening concerts.
On May 10, Lynn flew to the RAF base at Agartala, where she performed an evening concert at the local cinema and had dinner with the men of No. 191 Reconnaissance Squadron, who flew Catalinas over the Burmese jungle.
Returning from Agartala to Comilla, Lynn flew to Sylhet on May 12 and went straight to the hospital to sing for the wounded, even by their beds if they couldn’t be moved.
The next stop for the exhausted singer was Shillong, where they stayed until May 19. Lynn recovered some of her energy in the cooler mountain air and performed at a convalescent center, a garrison theater, an RAF camp, and more hospitals. She also met Slim’s wife, Aileen, who helped her relax a little more before the next leg of her journey, a drive of 250 miles to Jorhat where she arrived at 8 p.m. Still within Slim’s army, this area included American and Chinese troops under U.S. Gen. Joseph “Vinegar Joe” Stilwell.
The stay at Jorhat kicked off with a concert for 2,000 at the Plantation Club, followed by a dinner and another hospital visit at Dibrugarh before driving up the Manipur Road to the important supply station at Dimapur, just behind the front line, which would be Lynn’s final stop in Burma.
The next day, May 22, began with three hospital visits, followed by an afternoon and evening show. Two more hospitals were visited the next day as, close by, some of the worst fighting of the campaign was taking place–patients arrived with horrifying shrapnel and gunshot wounds, some already infected and the air was heavy with the stench of gangrene.
On May 24, after two morning shows and wanting to do more despite her body telling her otherwise, Lynn set off on the road to Jorhat which would ultimately lead her home.
At Jorhat, Edwards and Lynn waited all day for a pilot willing to brave the monsoon weather to fly them to Calcutta. Against all advice, an American with a small plane agreed to take them. As the exhausted performers slept, the pilot went off course in the dark, and a 2.5-hour flight took six hours. They arrived at Calcutta with 20 minutes of fuel left.
Lynn sang one last concert in Karachi before landing in England on June 6, greeted with the news that Allied troops were piling into Normandy. That summer she recorded “Somewhere in France with you” for the Allied troops fighting toward Germany.
Perhaps the best insight into what Lynn did for the troops in Burma comes from the men themselves who flooded her with letters of gratitude, a process that was reignited when she and her daughter, Virginia Lewis-Jones, asked for firsthand accounts for her autobiography Keep Smiling Through to celebrate her 100th year. Some replies came from the veterans, but most were from families recalling fathers who never talked about Burma except the time Lynn sang for them.
Lynn continued her singing career and charity work, but never forgot her boys. In June 2019, at the age of 102, she recorded a voice message for the 75th anniversary of D-Day. The 250 men onboard a Royal British Legion cruise to the Normandy beaches heard: “Hello boys, Vera Lynn here. I wish you and your carers a memorable trip to Normandy. It will be nostalgic and sure to bring back lots of memories. Rest assured we will never forget all you did for us. I’m sending you all my best wishes for the trip.”
Dame Vera Lynn was 103 when she died on June 18, 2020.
A frequent contributor, Alan Davidge lives in Normandy, France.
Thank you for sharing this story of someone who stepped up when she had no obligation and did what she could to help those operating in the worst possible conditions at the edge of the empire.