Yamashita: the greatest Japanese general of World War II?
Graham Goodlad reviews the career of Tomoyuki Yamashita, ‘the Tiger of Malaya’, who was responsible for the fall of Singapore in 1942.
Winston Churchill famously described the fall of Singapore on 15 February 1942 as ‘the worst disaster and largest capitulation in British history’. Japanese troops had landed in Thailand and northern Malaya on 8 December 1941, marching south over 500 miles of hostile jungle terrain in less than two months.
By the time they reached Singapore, a combination of casualties and exhaustion meant that barely half of the original 60,000 strong force could be classed as combat-effective. Yet a British and Commonwealth garrison of 130,000 soldiers surrendered to them. Churchill had ordered the garrison to fight to the last.
Numerous books have been written on the campaign, and black and white images of the surrender are shown repeatedly in TV documentaries on the period. In the classic photograph, the British commander, Lieutenant-General Sir Arthur Percival, is seen walking to meet the victors, accompanied by soldiers carrying the white flag alongside the Union Jack.
The Singapore base was at the centre of Britain’s Far East defences. Its loss was one of the darkest moments of the Second World War for the Allied cause, and a severe blow to Britain’s century-old imperial position in southern Asia. [quote]The worst disaster and largest capitulation in history. – Winston Churchill[/quote]
Less well known to a Western audience, however, are the personality and achievements of the Japanese general who led the invasion: Tomoyuki Yamashita. He is the confident individual, physically rather taller and heavier than the average Japanese soldier, who is to be seen in film footage of the time.
At Singapore City’s Ford automobile works, he is pictured facing a dejected Percival across the table and demanding an immediate ceasefire. Who was Yamashita and what part did his skills as a commander play in Japan’s remarkable victory?
The twisting path to high command
Yamashita’s career almost exactly spanned the period of the rise and fall of Japan’s imperial army. Born in 1885, he graduated from the army academy at the age of 20, in the year that his country’s victory in the Russo-Japanese War marked its emergence as a great power.
Between the two world wars he held a variety of military and diplomatic posts. By 1932 he was chief of military affairs at the imperial headquarters in Tokyo, and two years later he was promoted major-general.
In 1936, however, his career experienced a setback when he found himself on the fringes of an attempted military coup. In the aftermath, however, Yamashita rebuilt his fortunes with field commands in Korea and China.
It was a tortuous path to the assignment which would make his reputation: command of the 25th Army for the invasion of Malaya at the end of 1941.
His striking success at Singapore incurred the jealousy of his great rival, Prime Minister Hideki Tojo, however, and this ensured that he was sent to a new posting in north-east China and denied the much-coveted honour of an audience with Emperor Hirohito.
After Tojo’s fall from power two years later, Yamashita was recalled to lead the Japanese defence of the Philippines against overwhelming American strength.
In circumstances which remain controversial, he was hanged in February 1946, following a trial conducted by the victorious US forces. The charges related to atrocities committed by Japanese forces in the Philippines, for which, his defenders have steadfastly insisted, he bore no direct responsibility. The ‘Yamashita standard’ – implying a superior officer’s liability for offences carried out by his subordinates – remains an important legal precedent in war crimes cases.
An untypical general
In many respects Yamashita was untypical of the military caste through whose ranks he rose. He lacked many of the political skills necessary for successfully negotiating the complex factional struggles which beset the upper echelons of Japan’s officer corps from the 1920s onwards.
Although brave in combat and committed to the values of bushido – the code of self-sacrifice and loyalty to the Emperor which governed Japanese military conduct – Yamashita was more than a simple soldier. He was scholarly and well travelled, spending a significant proportion of the interwar period on military missions in Europe. In Vienna he embarked on a lengthy relationship with a German mistress.
More significant for his professional career, is that fact that on a visit to Western Europe he witnessed the aftermath of the 1940 German blitzkrieg. He was impressed by the potential of fast-moving warfare in which infantry, armour, and air support were co-ordinated to give the winning side a decisive advantage over an ill-prepared adversary. [quote]The most fragile point is the weakness of the mental solidarity among them, since the enemy is composed of two different races, Britons and Indians. – Tomoyuki Yamashita[/quote]
Tipped off about the imminent German invasion of the Soviet Union in June 1941, Yamashita returned home across Russia, ahead of Operation Barbarossa. His recommendations for a cessation of hostilities in China, where Japan had been engaged in fighting since 1937, and for an effort to maintain peace with Britain and the USA, were out of step with government thinking. His appeals for an expanded, better trained, and mechanised army, more effectively integrated with the navy and air force, also fell on deaf ears.
Planning for conquest
Yamashita undertook his most important campaign with troops who lacked up-to-date weapons and equipment, and were in fact heavily outnumbered. Japanese intelligence actually underestimated the size of the opposing forces. But numbers were not the key to victory.
In line with Japanese military tradition, Yamashita’s forces were heirs to a warrior culture which emphasised fighting spirit and disdain for self-preservation. Superior morale and training would decide the outcome.
Only in two areas did the Japanese possess material superiority: 25th Army began the invasion of Malaya with 80 tanks, whereas the British had no tanks and few armoured vehicles; and the Japanese were supported by more than 600 aircraft, compared to 158 British machines (though the latter were reinforced in January 1942 by Hurricane fighters, it was too late to make a difference).
By striking ruthlessly at the outset against British airfields, the Japanese air force gave Yamashita virtually unlimited freedom to operate on the ground. His prospects were also enhanced when, in a devastating blow to British naval pride, Japanese torpedo-bombers sank the two capital ships sent to reinforce the Singapore base, the Prince of Wales and the Repulse, within a week of their arrival in the region.
Thorough preparation preceded the Japanese assault on land. A specialist unit based in Formosa (modern Taiwan), in which the key figure was Yamashita’s chief operations officer, Colonel Masanobu Tsuji, had been working on all aspects of tropical warfare.
A pamphlet issued to the troops, entitled ‘Read this alone – and the war can be won’, covered every conceivable feature of the coming operation, from the hazards of amphibious landings, to issues of personal health and sanitation, and the mechanical problems encountered by vehicles in extremely hot conditions. It also explained the rationale behind the invasion of Malaya, portraying it not only as a struggle to gain control of vital resources such as oil, rubber, and tin, but also as a crusade on behalf of subject Asian peoples against white colonial domination.
Yamashita was certain that a key weakness of the defending forces was the lack of unity between the British and the Indian Empire troops, who comprised a significant proportion of the Malaya garrison. In an address to his men before the operation, he asserted that ‘the most fragile point is the weakness of the mental solidarity among them since the enemy is composed of two different races, Britons and Indians.’ Accordingly he urged his troops to hit the British decisively, declaring his conviction that the colonial forces would then collapse.
Yamashita’s ability to convey his own confidence in ultimate victory to his troops was a crucial element in his success. From the outset he also made clear his intention to share the hardships they faced, making a point of accompanying the first wave of attackers. He moved his staff to tears on the eve of the invasion with his passionate declaration that this was ‘the day they had dreamed of and planned for so long: the supreme opportunity to smash the British and Americans and establish a new order in the Far East under the glorious sun of Japan’.
The Japanese invasion plan centred on landing troops in southern Thailand and north-east Malaya, and then moving down the peninsula as rapidly as possible in a ‘driving charge’ which would take the enemy by surprise.
Yamashita had not devised the overall plan for the conquest of Malaya – this was the responsibility of the operations section of the Japanese general staff – but he was responsible for a crucial insight which ensured its success. Aware that he lacked the resources for an advance on more than one front, he decided to concentrate his forces on the main route that led southward towards Singapore on the western coast. On reaching the stretch of water, up to two miles wide, that separates Singapore from the mainland, he would then bring in a fresh division to support the final assault on the British island citadel.
Like most successful generals, Yamashita ruthlessly exploited his opponents’ mistakes and weaknesses. It is not true, as was maintained in some older accounts, that the British had anticipated only an attack from the south, against Singapore’s seaward-facing defences. There was a plan to mount a defence of northern Malaya; it was simply that the British commanders botched its execution by dispersing their forces too widely. Some troops were tied down in the defence of northern airfields, which were of little value because the British lacked adequate aircraft to use them.
Moreover, even when it became clear that the main Japanese thrust would be down the west coast, General Percival insisted on spreading his forces out in case another assault came further east. This enabled Yamashita, with his smaller army, to achieve the vital advantage of local superiority.
Japan’s chances of victory depended on speed and mobility. Contrary to popular belief, the Japanese were not experienced in jungle fighting, but they adapted better to the physical challenges of the heavily forested peninsula than did its more timid defenders.
Yamashita’s approach was to launch a ferocious artillery and air assault on a British position, whilst some of his forces temporarily left the road, emerging from the jungle behind the enemy’s lines to outflank him and cut off his communications.
Japanese command of the sea enabled them to use boats to leapfrog down the coast, disrupting the British defences. The pace of the invasion was maintained by using trucks and, in a simple innovation, which was particularly well suited to the conditions, large numbers of bicycles.
Teams of engineers rapidly repaired bridges demolished by the retreating British. In some cases men waded across rivers carrying their bicycles on their shoulders, or crossed on makeshift log bridges held up by engineers standing in the water. When cycle tyres were punctured, soldiers often rode them on the rims, the noise on the asphalt roads making the British think that they were Japanese tanks in the distance.
The effect of Yamashita’s version of blitzkrieg was to spread uncertainty and panic, so that retreat appeared the only option. One of his army’s strengths was a determination to keep going in conditions which the British considered inconceivable for fighting.
In his memoirs Colonel Tsuji recalled one instance where British troops had abandoned their guns in the middle of a road to take shelter from monsoon rain in a nearby rubber plantation. Japanese tanks promptly destroyed the dispirited men’s heavy equipment, whilst infantry pressed home the attack amidst the dripping wet trees.
The Japanese were more adept at improvisation than their opponents and more willing to take the initiative in small-unit operations. They were also for the most part hardier, requiring less food and rest, though they were quick to make use of captured supplies, which were popularly known as ‘Churchill rations’.
At the Straits of Johore
The same relentlessness was sustained in the last and most testing battle of the campaign, the assault on Singapore itself. By the time Yamashita reached the Straits of Johore, the stretch of water between the mainland and the island, his ammunition, fuel, and food were close to exhaustion.
He realised that his only chance of final victory lay in resisting the appeals of advisers who called for time to consolidate. Any delay would give Percival time to strengthen his own side’s position. Instead the Japanese commander masked his intentions by moving his troops in a loop by night along the coast opposite Singapore, creating the impression that he was massing his forces for an attack on the island’s north-east shore. Then, on 8 February, he launched his entire force against the more thinly defended north-west coast.
Once ashore, the Japanese advanced on a narrow front, just as they had done on the mainland, relying on the terror and confusion caused by an unremitting frontal assault. Used against already demoralised opponents, the bayonet compensated for shortages of ammunition. [quote]This is the supreme opportunity to smash the British and Americans and establish a new order in the Far East under the glorious sun of Japan. – Tomoyuki Yamashita[/quote]
The Japanese benefited from the fact that the garrison consisted largely of poorly trained troops, many of them newly arrived, inexperienced reinforcements who had not yet adjusted to their new environment.
The British defence lasted a week, as the invading forces drove steadily inland, seizing key positions, including the area around the reservoir which provided Singapore’s water-supply. By 15 February, with his forces pushed into a narrow perimeter surrounding the town and its waterfront, Percival had concluded that surrender was preferable to further pointless loss of life.
The fall of Singapore illustrates the truth of Napoleon’s celebrated saying that in war ‘the moral is to the physical as three to one’. At an early stage Yamashita secured a psychological advantage over Percival and he never relinquished it.
Reflecting on the campaign, he admitted that his greatest worry was that the British might discover his numerical weakness and lack of supplies. That they never considered such a possibility was crucial to the success of the man who would become known as ‘the Tiger of Malaya’. This was an accolade, incidentally, with which he was not comfortable, insisting that, unlike the stealthy jungle cat, he attacked his prey openly in a fair fight.
Recent studies of the fall of Singapore have tended to downplay the mistakes made by the British commanders on the ground. They argue with some justice that Percival was made a scapegoat for wider strategic failures.
For understandable reasons, Britain had chosen to concentrate on the war in Europe and North Africa, sending fewer resources to the Far East and relying on an empty posture of deterrence. The security of Singapore depended on a Royal Navy whose resources were overstretched in the conditions of 1941, with multiple threats across the globe. Once the Prince of Wales and the Repulse had been sunk, the base was left naked to its enemies.
As far as the defence of the Malayan mainland was concerned, British military doctrine, which relied on fighting static, set-piece battles, was unsuited to the terrain.
None of this, however, should be allowed to diminish Yamashita’s achievement in matching his tactics to the conditions he faced, in eking out scarce resources, and in maintaining the momentum of his army’s ‘driving charge’. To have secured the unconditional surrender of his adversaries in a mere 70 days entitles him to rank with the greatest commanders of his age.
Graham Goodlad would like to thank his friend, Yasuharu Sato, for assistance in locating and translating sources from the Japanese in the preparation of this article.
[tab title=”Further Reading 1″]A Great Betrayal? The Fall of Singapore revisited by Brian Farrell and Sandy Hunter[/tab]
[tab title=”Further Reading 2″]The Generals: from defeat to victory – leadership in Asia 1941-45 by Robert Lyman[/tab]
[tab title=”Further Reading 3″]Japan’s Greatest Victory, Britain’s Worst Defeat by Colonel Masanobu Tsuji[/tab]