‘The saviour of Ceylon’
On April 4, 1942, only two days after his arrival in Ceylon, Squadron Leader Birchall was flying a PBY Catalina flying boat that was patrolling the ocean to the south of Ceylon. Nine hours into the mission, as the plane was about to return to base, ships were spotted on the horizon. Investigations revealed a large Japanese fleet, including five aircraft carriers, heading for Ceylon, which at that time was the base for the Royal Navy’s Eastern Fleet. Birchall’s crew managed to send out a radio message, but the Catalina was soon shot down by six A6M2 Zero fighters from the carrier
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 HMS Cornwall, burning and sinking |
April 5, 1942, dawned rather cloudy on the west coast of Colonial Ceylon. Although first light was at around 6 o’clock, fighter pilots, ground crews, and most others were up and ready by 4 am, taking their positions at the Ratmalana air field. Defence positions were manned and all flyers were on ‘immediate readiness,’ with trolley batteries plugged in for an immediate start.
Two routine patrols were flown at first light. The first of two Hurricanes from 30 Squadron, reported 8/10th storm clouds over most of the area. The second, a flight of six FAA Fulmars, flew down the west coast and round towards the east and back again. They flew just below the cloud in battle formation i.e. in pairs, keeping a weather eye open. They were on the look out for a Japanese raiding party. It was Easter Sunday seventy-five years ago, and the general populace of Colombo had no idea that it was going to be a memorable day in the annals of history. At a point more than 200 miles south of the island, just before the sun appeared over the horizon, Japanese Admiral Chuichi Nagumo’s fleet of 5 aircraft carriers, was steaming as close as he’d dared to come. As the fleet reached the appointed take-off area at full speed, the first machines roared off into the dawn sky. Commander Mitsuo Fuchida of the Japanese aircraft carrier Akagi, who had led the Pearl Harbour attack, was in charge of the 125 strong force of fighter planes. He was one of Japan’s most experienced flyers, who already counted twenty five years' service in the Imperial Navy, and was by far the oldest man to be flying on either side that day.
The planes took to the skies in quick succession from the five carrier fleet, as they steamed head-on into the wind. Michael Tomlinson, in his book
‘The Most Dangerous Moment,’ says that Fuchida was ready for trouble as he felt certain the enemy Catalina, which was sighted the the previous day, would have had time to send back a sighting report before it was shot down. Up to the evening of April 4, they had had no reason at all to believe they were expected and had hoped to launch the same surprise attack as Pearl Harbour. These hopes, were now dashed.
Tomlinson, describing that Sunday morning, says that “...no one could doubt that the radar posts were very much on the alert. They were linked over commandeered telephone lines with Fighter Operations Headquarters in Colombo.” However, his account of that morning is strangely contradictory as he says later on that the radar was left unmanned for some time. The huge Japanese air armada made its landfall at 7.15 am in the Galle area and flew up the coast for half an hour at a height of some 8,000 feet.
According to Tomlinson, it was scarcely relevant whether radar picked them up or not as the Hurricanes could have been given half an hour’s adequate warning with mere visual aids. However, no one on the west coast had had any reason to believe the planes were not friendly. It has never been satisfactorily explained why Fighter Operations did not learn of the arrival of the Jap planes until after 30 Squadrons had been engaged and No. 258 (squadron) was taking off from the Racecourse. It was said that watches were being changed at the crucial moment and the radar had gone unmanned for some time. Furthermore, since no one realized the great range of the Japanese aircraft, the radar men seem to have clung to the view that their carriers would need to approach much closer and attack would most likely develop later in the day.
With standby at the aerodromes at the early hour of 4 am such a situation was scarcely credible. The Air Officer Commanding Air Vice-Marshal d’Albiac was aghast at the situation. “I shall never get over this, he said. The six Fulmars returning from their dawn patrol, actually sighted some of the enemy planes. Sub-Lieutenant R.V. Hinton who was in one of the aircraft reported, “On the return journey, somewhere between Bentota and Colombo, we saw a number of aircraft out to sea some distance away, and fortunately or unfortunately for us, it did not occur to us at the time that they were Japanese. It subsequently transpired that on the fall of the first bomb on Ratmalana, the wireless went dead (not through direct enemy action) and we were therefor, not in communication with base. If in fact communication had been maintained, we could have put ourselves in an attacking position as the Japanese aircraft returned unaware of our presence.” Surprisingly enough, even earlier than this, the Japanese air armada had already been sighted by an RAF air crew. At Ratmalana, the sun had climbed some way into the heavens with no indication received of an impending attack. There was now a tendency to feel it may all have been a false alarm after all.
At 7.30 am, some men were released for breakfast. At 7.50 am, to everyone’s horror, the enemy formations appeared overhead. Startled pilots rushed to take off and the alarm was sounded. In spite of all precautions and in spite of their long vigil, No. 30 Squadron, under Squadron-Leader G.F. Chater, DFC, was caught on the ground with 8,000 feet to climb before enemy bombers could be reached.
 Squadron Leader Leonard Birchall |
We now learn that one of the few advantages the Hurricanes had over the enemy Zeros was its greater weight, which gave them the ability to out-dive the Zero. Quite apart from this, at no time, regardless of its type, is an aircraft more vulnerable than just after takeoff, before full power is developed or speed and altitude gained. The Japanese were well aware of the existence of Ratmalana, as it was a civil aerodrome, which was on the maps since before the war. They expected to be met by fighters from this station and were pleased to find them on the ground, or in the process of climbing into the air below them as the main body flew on. A small force of Type 99 Dive-Bombers detached themselves and in line astern, dived down to release their bombs at about 500 feet. At the Racecourse, No. 258 had a few precious minutes’ warning when Fighter Operations phoned through to Squadron-Leader P.C. Fletcher, to enquire if anything was known of an enemy force. Fletcher had answered in the affirmative saying that they were right overhead and that they were in the process of taking off. So Fighter Operations were being alerted by a squadron, instead of the other way round.
As 258 Squadron’s Hurricanes left the runway, the Japanese were directly overhead, flying inland over Colombo in several loose formations, with the intention of making their attack from the landward side. Warships in the harbour were the Japanese primary targets. Secondary targets, mainly the concern of Fuchida’s Type 97 Attack Bombers, were at the railway workshops at Ratmalana and the oil depots at Kolonnawa, just east of the city. In the event, their bombing was accurate. And so, the battle for Ceylon began on that Easter Sunday. This is only a glimpse of what happened on that fateful day. There is so much more to this story as recorded in Tomlinson’s book which gives a detailed account of the attack on Ceylon by the Japanese during World War II.
Almost all the information about this memorable and historic event comes from the book, ‘The Most Dangerous Moment’ by Michael Tomlinson. Michael Tomlinson joined the RAF Volunteer Reserve in August 1940, his first appointment being as Personal Assistant to Sir Arthur Harris, then Air Officer Commanding No. 5 (Bomber) Group. Later posted to Tenagah Aerodrome on Singapore Island, he got no further than Ceylon because of the swiftness of Japanese advances. He was Station Intelligence Officer at Ratmalana and later, China Bay, where much of the air activity described in this book took place. After the war, he remained in Ceylon as a tea planter, last on Fordyce, Dickoya, and retired to London in 1970. He died in May, 1993, after he had revised this edition and approved it for publication
Compiled by Tyron Devotta
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