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My Father - Tom Hope 

My Father's War

"When You Go Home, Tell Them Of Us And Say,
For Your Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today"

This is the Kohima Epitaph which is on the World War II

war memorial for the Allied fallen at the battle of Kohima.

My late father was a member of my lodge

(The Sunderland Lodge No. 4114).

He was therefore my father and also my brother.

Tom Hope - India (late 1944)

He served in the Army during the Second World War in the Burma Campaign and as one of the "Forgotten Army" he was at the Battle of Kohima in north-east India in spring 1944.

He fortunately survived the Battle of Kohima. 

The Burma Campaign was the longest campaign of the war and the Battle of Kohima has been called "the Stalingrad of the East" or the turning point of the war in the Far East.

The battle was really a siege of British troops at a hill top station. It has been compared the Rorke's Drift in the Zulu Wars.

The Battle of Kohima (April 1944)

The Japanese invasion of India was to involve 100,000 soldiers of which one division of 12,000 men attacked Kohima. The Japanese were repulsed by a mere 1,500 British and Indian infantrymen.

The Durham Light Infantry lost 15 officers and over 100 men in the battle.

The Kohima Memorial


One Wearside man recalls horrors of brutal battle - an interview taken from The Sunderland Echo, Friday, May 6, 1994.

"A LOT of good young lads got killed. It was a horrific battle," recalls Tom Hope, a veteran of the Kohima campaign.

At the time the Japanese made their advance, Tom Hope was stationed near what was then Portuguese Goa, on the west coast of India, for jungle training.

When they got the word, the DLI streamed across the country with the other battalions which formed the 2nd British Division.

Their job was to relieve the garrison and hold off the enemy advance.

"We went in and got them out and opened the road, but then we were stuck on the hill," Tom said.

" If we'd lost it, the Japanese would have been down into India. It was the turning point of the war.

"It was the first time they'd actually moved back. They'd lost so many men, and their lines of communication were overstretched.

"We couldn't get tanks up there, so it was hand-to-hand and face-to-face.

"They would come charging up the hill, and, of course, it was a great honour for the Japanese to die. That's why our lads who surrendered earlier in the war were treated so badly.

"And we weren't only fighting the Japanese, but fighting disease - half the battalion came down with malaria," he said.

Tom, who was in India for four years, came down with malaria himself three times. And during the monsoon the soldiers were covered in leeches.

When not in the thick of the fighting, the men suffered pitiful conditions - sitting in dug-outs on raised platforms in six inches of water. In many ways conditions were similar to the First World War trenches.

"You had to have sandbag sacking around your ankles because you were up to your knees in mud.   (Below: A break in the Battle of Kohima - Tom is third from left with hand on hip).

"When you're in the jungle, you can't move - if you do, you're lost. You just have to sit there.

"We didn't know where we were half the time.

"And every movement you hear puts the wind up you. We didn't know whether we were going to live or die.

"They were clever, the Japanese. They spoke English, and they would shout to see if you would shout back at night."

Food consisted of hot biscuits and corned beef. They had to be air-dropped, along with water, which was used only for drinking, not washing.

For his part in the campaign, Tom - who was made corporal but "he just wanted to just be one of the lads" - was given the Burma Star, which takes pride of place in his medal collection.

The Burma Star

On the DLI's contribution to Kohima, he said: "I think the British chose a good troop there - they fought and they fought and they fought.

"They were all northern lads. They were a very good regiment to be in, believe me."

But there were a lot of casualties. Around 130 members of the DLI died.

"Towards the end, we had a padre as our senior officer be cause we'd lost so many others.

"And we had four sets of brothers in the DLI and lost one of each.

Tom, who lives in Roker, Sunderland is proud of the way his battalion changed the face of the war in Asia, but is disappointed that this chapter of history is lost to many people's minds.

"We Were the Forgotten Army, definitely forgotten. When you see the armistice parade, you never hear anyone mention Kohima."


Bro Tom Hope died suddenly on Monday the 10th March 1997.


(The following is taken from the Fellowship of Services magazine "Uniform" dated March 1997)


Comp. T. HOPE (52529)

It is with deep regret and sadness that No. 189 Roker Mess reports the passing to Higher Fellowship of Tom Hope.

He was initiated into Fellowship in December 1972 and was a regular attendee, enjoying his Mess nights. A very quiet individual, but a real gentleman. Called up in 1940 in the DLI, he went to Bombay in 1942 in the 2nd Division, the Forgotten Army, working behind enemy lines.

Involved in the Battle of Kohima, Tom survived, but owing to contracting malaria for the third time, was sent home in 1946.

Our deepest sympathy goes to Tom's family. We will remember him.

Mess Editor.

This tantulus was presented to The Sunderland Lodge No. 4114 by Tom's son, Bernard.

More Information About The Battle of Kohima

(This article was written in April 1969 on the 25th anniversary of the battle.)

"I was at Kohima."There cannot be many men alive today who can make that claim; but whoever they are they should be accorded respect on this 25th anniversary of the battle - for they fought through an ordeal comparable only to Stalingrad in the second world war or to Passchendaele in the first.

A quarter of a century ago Burma was a forgotten battleground. Companies, battalions, divisions disappeared into this sweating wilderness with few to note their struggle. More familiar fields provided the focus of attention - the brutal slogging match in Russia, the triumphant seizure of North Africa, the descent upon Italy, the naval actions on two great oceans - while the war in the jungle went unnoticed. yet in many ways it was the hardest ware of all.


It was fought against a crafty, ruthless, and expert enemy who adapted himself to the terrain. His uniform was light, his boots strong and rubber soled. He lived off the country, carried only a water bottle, a ball of rice, and some scraps of dried fish for savour. His weapons were automatics suited to the close-quarters encounters of the jungle, grenades, light machine-guns, and tow-inch mortars. He did not march along the roads if he thought they were defended, but hacked his way through the jungle or followed little-known paths. The first news that the Japanese were attacking came when defending troops in the forward positions could get no reply from their headquarters in the rear.

The start of 1944 found the Japanese with a battle plan which was audacious, far-reaching, and simple. This was nothing less than a wholesale advance into India. All told, 100,000 troops were to march to the assault, first to seize the British bastions at Imphal and Kohima, and then to proceed another 30 miles northwards and put themselves astride the Bengal-Assam railway, the main supply road to General Stilwell and the Chinese. If all went well, they would by this time have virtually by-passed the 14th Army and left Stilwell out on a limb. India would then stretch before them, and their long-term plan was to move westwards to Calcutta - relying on political unrest in India to pave the way for their advance into the Delhi.

In the third week of March, 1944, eight Japanese divisions were committed to the assault. The crack 31st Division was given the Somra hills and debouching on the Imphal-Kohima road, thus cutting the last link between the British 4th Corps in Imphal and the outside world. The Japanese were then to turn their attention on the garrison of Kohima itself and, after taking the town, were to move north to cut the main railway.


The fist part of this plan went to schedule. The Japanese surged over the Kohima ridge, cut the roads, and isolated Kohima itself, which stands 5,000 feet high on a saddle in the Naga hills, and was little more than a scattering of thatched huts in the midst of banks of rhododendrons. Kohima was then laid under a murderous barrage. The garrison, which included a battalion of the Royal West Kent Regiment and a battalion of the Assam Regiment, was small - it mustered all told just over 1,500 men, including convalescent soldiers, civilians, and cooks. Against it was launched the full fury of the Japanese 31st Division, numbering 12,000 men.

For 14 days and nights the defenders of Kohima held the bridgehead to India. Now the eyes of the world were upon them because the Japanese had already made their usual enormous radio claims, among which was the one true one that they stood at last upon Indian soil.

It is doubtful whether there is a more glorious stand in the annals of war than the defence of Kohima. The battle was murderous and the supply line was in the air, and by parachute. While Lt.-General Montagu Stopford's 33rd Corps was smashing down from Dimapur to Kohima, the men inside the town disputed every inch of ground against overwhelming odds. Slowly the perimeter contracted until finally, after two weeks of relentless siege, the defenders were confined on one solitary hilltop, completely surrounded and raked day and night by artillery, mortar, and machine-gun fire. But the 33rd Corps, with the British 2nd Division, which included the 2nd Durham Light Infantry as its spearhead, got through and, as they entered the ruined town, they saw parachutes festooned on every other tree, showing how well the air supply crews had done their job. Not a building was left undamaged and the dead lay unburied in the ruins were grimy and bearded riflemen, so dazed after their ordeal as scarcely to realize that they were saved.


But the battle of Kohima was not over. The Japanese launched a last furious all-out effort to capture the town, because without it their battle plans were useless. On the night of April 22 the 1st Royal Berkshires and the 2nd Durham Light Infantry were holding Garrison Hill, and it was the D.L.I. which bore the brunt of the attack. The enemy rained down shells and mortar bombs and, behind  that shower of death, came the fanatical Japanese infantry. Fortunately for the men in the weapon pits an ammunition dump had been hit, and flames and smoke shot high into the air, setting light to the tree tops. When the Japanese attacked uphill they were visible in silhouette and a murderous curtain of small-arms fire swept through them. The Durhams suffered heavily from the enemy's spring grenades, but held their positions, lying shoulder to shoulder. Below them they could hear Japanese officers and N.C.O.s shrieking at their men, urging them on to yet another assault, and the fighting went on till daylight, with the Durhams launching a successful counter-attack.

The Durhams lost 15 officers and over 100 men in this struggle, but the losses they inflicted on the enemy were even greater, for the equivalent of four Japanese companies had been killed and wounded.

In one place, only the tennis court of the District Commissioner's bungalow separated the Japanese from the British lines. After many days of slaughter across the tennis court the British managed to winch up a Lee tank over a gradient of one in three to fire over open sites into the enemy bunkers. That tank did its job, but its burnt-out shell remained in Kohima as a sign of the price of victory that its crew paid. This costly battle raged for weeks, and the names of the Durham Light Infantry, the Royal Norfolk Regiment, and the Royal West Kents will always be associated with Kohima.

50,000 DEAD

The Japanese finally withdrew on the night of June 6; the battle of Kohima was over. It had lasted 64 days and had seen some of the most stubborn and bloody fighting of the second world war. Of the 100,000 Japanese who raced with sword and grenade for Imphal, 50,000 were dead.