The Siege of Imphal, 1944. Japanese Army Left to Rot. British and Indian Refusal to Surrender Alters History.

The road to India was within the Japanese Imperial Army's grasp, but at Imphal and Kohima, the Japanese advance was not just halted, it was broken. Their columns had fought, bled, and died to reach the gates of British India, but when the final shots were fired, they had nothing left. Their supply lines had collapsed. Their men were starving. Their dream of conquest had been reduced to corpses rotting in the jungle mud. With this failure, the last serious threat to British rule in India vanished. Japan would never again mount an offensive of this scale in the region. The invasion had been more than blunted, it had been crushed, and with it, the fate of the war in Southeast Asia was sealed.

Imphal. March 15 - May 31, 1944.
Japanese Forces: ~ 85,000 troops, and 7,000 Indian Nationalist Army Auxiliaries. 
British and Indian Forces: ~ 120,000 troops.

Additional Reading and Episode Research:

• Slim, Sir William. Defeat into Victory.
• Evans, Sir Geoffrey. Imphal: Crisis in Burma (History of the Second World War by Pitt, Barrie).
• Turnbull, Patrick. Imphal-Kohima, 1944.

Transcript

Thanks for tuning in to this episode of History's Greatest Battles. Season 2, where we explore History's Greatest Sieges. If you know anybody that enjoys this genre of history, please share the podcast with them. And stay tuned after the episode for some special remarks.

In 1944, deep in the jungles of Burma, the war in the Pacific reached a turning point that most history books barely acknowledge. The Japanese Empire, at the height of its territorial expansion, was not just holding ground, it was advancing. Burma had fallen. Malaya had fallen. Singapore had been humiliated. And now, the road to India, the crown jewel of the British Empire, stood open. If Japan could drive through, the consequences would be staggering. The British would lose their foothold in Asia. Indian nationalists, many already aligned with Tokyo, could rise in open rebellion. The entire strategic balance of the Second World War would shift.

The Imperial Japanese Army was already stretched thin, its resources bleeding out across the Pacific. But its commanders understood one thing with absolute clarity, if India fell, Britain’s hold on the East would unravel. Japan would have the leverage it needed to cripple Allied operations in the region, forcing the Americans to divert resources away from the island-hopping campaign. It could set conditions for a negotiated peace, allowing the Empire to hold onto its conquests indefinitely. This was not just an attack on a single city. It was an attempt to break the British grip on Asia forever.

The battle that followed was one of the most brutal and strategically significant engagements of the entire war. It was a contest of endurance, fought not only between men, but between supply lines, air power, and raw attrition. The victors would determine the future of Southeast Asia, and by extension, the post-war world. The defeated would not just lose the battle, they would lose the ability to fight the war on their terms ever again. What happened in Burma in 1944 ensured that the rising sun of the Japanese Empire would never shine over India, and from that moment forward, the enemy was no longer advancing. The war had turned. Japan would never recover. Let’s now experience, the Siege of Imphal.

 Welcome to History's Greatest Battles, Season Two, Episode 26: The Siege of Imphal. From the 15th of March, to the 31st of May, 1944.

Japanese Forces: roughly 85,000 troops, with an additional 7,000 Indian Nationalist Army Auxiliaries. 

British and Indian Forces: roughly 120,000 troops. 

The road to India was within the Japanese Imperial Army's grasp, but at Imphal and Kohima, the Japanese advance was not just halted, it was broken. Their columns had fought, bled, and died to reach the gates of British India, but when the final shots were fired, they had nothing left. Their supply lines had collapsed. Their men were starving. Their dream of conquest had been reduced to corpses rotting in the jungle mud. With this failure, the last serious threat to British rule in India vanished. Japan would never again mount an offensive of this scale in the region. The invasion had been more than blunted, it had been crushed, and with it, the fate of the war in Southeast Asia was sealed.

Burma’s peace shattered in January 1942. Japanese forces, relentless and disciplined, stormed in from French Indochina, their campaign swift, their intentions clear. The British defenses collapsed. Overwhelmed and outmaneuvered, they retreated, fighting every step of the way, until they crossed into India by May. Had the Japanese pursued them with full force, India could have been theirs. But conquest had come so fast, even they weren’t ready for it. They halted. They consolidated. The monsoon loomed, and the Imperial High Command decided to wait. That hesitation gave the British time.

The wait dragged on. Eighteen months. Japan was stretched thin across the Pacific, and its war machine had limits. Meanwhile, the British Indian Army wasted no time. General William Slim knew what was coming, and he made sure his men would be ready when it did. Slim built his defense around Imphal. The capital of Manipur, four hundred miles from Calcutta. A lifeline. A fortress. If it fell, the road to India lay open.

Imphal stood high, 2,500 feet above sea level, ringed by mountains like a natural stronghold. It would be the battlefield. Here, Lieutenant General Geoffrey Scoones led the Indian Army’s 4th Corps, three hardened divisions, the 17th, 20th, and 23rd. Warriors, every last one. Imphal’s roads were its lifeline. In 1942, there was only one reliable route in or out. That wouldn’t do. Slim and Scoones knew logistics win wars, so they ordered two more roads built. Thousands of laborers toiled for months, carving paths through the unforgiving terrain. When the next fight came, Imphal would have what it needed, whether for defense or for attack.

March 1944. The moment of decision. Attack first or brace for impact? Slim weighed his options. The enemy was the 15th Army. Eighty-five thousand Japanese soldiers under Lieutenant General Renya Mutaguchi, a ruthless commander with a taste for iron discipline. Alongside them, seven thousand men of the Indian National Army. Former British troops turned against their old masters. Most had been prisoners. They had a choice, rot in a camp or fight for Japan. They chose survival. Skilled in jungle warfare, they knew the terrain better than any man in Slim’s ranks.

By February 1944, British intelligence saw the storm forming. The Japanese would strike. Slim calculated the timing, no sooner than March 15. Hit first or hold the line? A commander’s choice. A decision that would decide the fate of thousands. Scoones deployed his men forward. The 17th Division held the south, dug in near Tiddim. The 20th watched the southeast, positioned in the Kabaw Valley with eyes on the Chindwin River, the border, the last barrier. The 23rd stood ready in reserve, contingents guarding the northeastern road to Kohima, the gateway to Assam.

Slim and Scoones knew timing was everything. Pull back too soon, and the men might see it as retreat. Hold too long, and they could be overrun. The decision was made. The men would hold their positions. When the Japanese came, they would bleed them, then fall back in a controlled retreat to Imphal. There, the real battle would begin. The first blow fell in the Arakan. A feint, designed to pull British reserves away from Imphal. It worked, briefly. But Scoones had bigger problems. The real assault came early. Mutaguchi struck a full week ahead of schedule, catching the defenders off guard.

Mutaguchi’s plan was methodical. Three thrusts, all through unforgiving terrain. In the south, the 33rd Division drove forward, two columns advancing with one purpose, trap the 17th Division and crush it. In the center, another column moved beneath the 20th Division’s position, hunting for its supply lines. Starve the defenders, and the battle would be won before the first shot was fired. Then came the hammer blow. A third thrust, a week behind the others, driving north. The goal: cut Imphal off from Kohima. If the Japanese succeeded, the 15th Division would encircle the city while the 31st pushed on toward Kohima, severing the British defenses in two.

The night of March 7-8, 1944, the offensive began. By the 10th, the Japanese had maneuvered around Tiddim. The 17th Division was in trouble. The road to Imphal, their escape route, was at risk of being cut. No choice now. The 17th was ordered back to Imphal. On March 14, they moved, but it wasn’t a retreat. It was a battle. They had to fight for every step, carving a path through Japanese positions. Scoones threw in his reserves, two brigades, racing south to assist. But the enemy was moving too fast. Supplies had to be left behind. The retreat had to be swift.

It was exactly what the Japanese had hoped for. Their own supply lines stretched thin, harassed by Orde Wingate’s Chindits, British guerrillas striking from the jungle. The Japanese didn’t have the logistics for a drawn-out fight. They needed to seize British stockpiles to sustain the offensive. Even as the 17th fought their way out, another crisis unfolded. Japanese forces from the 33rd Division crossed the Chindwin, slipping into the Kabaw Valley south of the 20th Division. Another supply line in danger. Another order to withdraw. But this time, there was no full retreat. The 20th Division would hold at Shenam Saddle, where the road burst out of the mountains and onto the plain.

Scoones moved fast. Laborers and supplies were pulled out first. The 20th Division, disciplined and deadly, withdrew under fire, covering the retreat. Then they dug in. Shenam would hold. The pressure in the south was unrelenting. Scoones had no choice but to commit his reserves. But there was an opportunity, the north. The British struck on the night of March 15-16, meeting little resistance. Scoones needed more men. Fast. He called Slim. Reinforcements could only come one way, through the sky. The order went out. Anglo-American aircraft began ferrying troops from Arakan to Imphal and Kohima.

Ukhrul was key. A small post, but vital. The Japanese 15th Division was coming, and if they broke through, Imphal would be cut off. Scoones sent in the 50th Parachute Brigade to reinforce the 49th. They would hold the road, or die trying. For ten days, from March 19 to 29, the sky above Imphal was a lifeline. Transport planes roared in from Arakan, delivering the full might of the Indian 5th Division, troops, guns, vehicles, everything needed to hold the line. The 5th Division fought hard but couldn’t hold forever. After days of brutal combat, they were forced to scatter, slipping through Japanese lines in small groups. But their sacrifice was not in vain. The Japanese schedule was wrecked. Mutaguchi had to divert forces from Kohima just to crush Ukhrul. That decision cost him dearly.

Yet, despite the delay, the Japanese accomplished their primary goal. The Imphal-Kohima road was cut. The 4th Corps was trapped. No reinforcements, no overland supplies. From this point forward, everything would have to come by air. March 29. The Indian 5th Division reached Imphal. They wasted no time. Trenches were dug, positions fortified. The defenders were ready. April 4. The 17th Division arrived, bloodied, exhausted, but victorious. They had fought their way out, clawing through Japanese lines to reach the plain. The 23rd Division took their place on the southern front. The 17th moved into reserve, ready to strike when needed. The 20th Division held firm at Shenam Saddle. The Japanese had thrown everything at them and paid for it in blood. The southeastern front was a graveyard.

April 4 was the turning point. That day, the 4th Corps locked its defenses in place. The siege was fully formed. The Japanese had thrown themselves at Imphal, and failed to break it. From here on, the battle would only move in one direction. Imphal was surrounded. The Japanese thought they had won. But the sky remained open. The Royal Air Force and the U.S. Army Air Corps turned the air into a highway. Planes came and went without pause, 14 million pounds of rations, a million gallons of fuel, 12,000 fresh troops. Wounded men were lifted out, 13,000 of them. Civilians, too, 43,000 pulled from the inferno. The Japanese wanted to starve the defenders. Instead, Imphal grew stronger.

The RAF owned the sky. Japanese air cover was weak, and their troops paid the price. Bombers rained destruction on enemy positions. Fighters prowled the battlefield, cutting down anything that moved. The men on the ground fought their war. The airmen made sure they had every advantage. Scoones was done waiting. The south and southeast would hold. The real fight would be in the north. His first counterattack would slam into the Japanese 15th Division. Then, a setback. April 6, a Japanese regiment seized high ground overlooking 4th Corps headquarters. For a week, the enemy held it, threatening the entire British position. Then, on April 13, the British took it back. Not easily. Not cleanly. But they took it.

The fight shifted. The 23rd Division went after Japanese positions at Ukhrul. The 5th Division, fresh from their airlift, hit Mapao Ridge. That ridge mattered, it dominated the road to Kohima. Whoever held it controlled the battle’s outcome. Shenam Saddle became a meat grinder. The Japanese 33rd Division attacked, day after day, night after night. Two and a half months of slaughter. The 20th Division refused to break.

May. The monsoon arrived. The battlefield turned to sludge. Every man, British, Indian, and Japanese, fought under black skies and unending rain. Time was running out for both sides. Mutaguchi’s last chance was Kohima. Without it, his army had no supplies. No base. No future. If he couldn’t take it, the invasion of India was finished. Scoones had his own deadline. The road to Kohima had to be reopened before the worst of the monsoon hit. The airlift was strong, but even it had limits.

By May, the battlefield shifted north. Kohima was the prize. Both sides knew it. That’s where the real bloodletting began. Mutaguchi saw the disaster unfolding. He needed more men against Imphal. He tried to pull forces from Kohima, but the Indian 33rd Corps was relentless. They hammered the Japanese at Kohima, and those troops never left. Imphal would have to be taken without them. June 3. The fight for Kohima ended. The Japanese had lost. The 33rd Corps, victorious, turned south to aid Scoones. The noose around the 15th Army tightened.

Mutaguchi panicked. His army was crumbling. He sacked all his divisional commanders, desperate for fresh leadership. It only made things worse. His men were starving, exhausted, and now leaderless. The final blow came on June 22. British and Indian troops, advancing from both directions, met on the Imphal-Kohima road. The siege was broken. The 15th Army, once poised to invade India, was now in full retreat.

The battle wasn’t over. Mutaguchi refused to accept reality. He bellowed orders to his men: “If your hands are broken, fight with your feet… If there is no breath in your body, fight with your ghost. Lack of weapons is no excuse for defeat.” But the 15th Army had nothing left to give. They couldn’t obey a dead man’s commands. Slim smelled blood. The monsoon raged, but he didn’t care. Now was the time to finish it. No retreat. No delay. He ordered the attack. The 15th Army wouldn’t just be beaten, it would be annihilated.

The 7th Division struck first. They surged southeast from Kohima, smashing into the retreating 31st Division and forcing them back toward Ukhrul. There would be no rest, no breathing room. As the 7th hammered forward, the 20th Division moved east to trap the enemy in place. At the same time, British Long Range Penetration units tore through the Japanese supply lines in Burma. There would be no escape.

The Japanese retreat turned into slaughter. Some made desperate last stands, fighting to the death. Most didn’t even get that far. The roads were littered with corpses, some still gripping rusted rifles, others sprawled naked in the mud, too weak to move. Supply convoys lay charred, blackened by airstrikes. The few who made it to field hospitals found no mercy. Many had been shot by their own comrades, spared the agony of slow death.

By the end, the numbers told the story. The 15th Army had started with 85,000 men. It left with barely 30,000. The rest were dead or wounded, 53,000 losses. The British and Indian forces suffered 17,000 casualties, but most of their wounded were evacuated, saved by airpower. The Japanese had no such salvation. Years later, a Japanese official reflected on the carnage: “Most of this force perished in battle or later of starvation. The disaster at Imphal was perhaps the worst of its kind yet chronicled in the annals of war.” He wasn’t wrong. The Japanese Army in Burma never recovered.

The once-feared Japanese Army in Burma was finished. The war didn’t end that day, but its outcome was sealed. Slim knew it. He didn’t stop. He pushed forward, launching the reconquest of Burma. This was his war now, and he would end it on his terms.
 They came with everything they had, fighting not just against an enemy, but against fate itself. They marched on half-rations, their bellies empty, their bodies battered by disease, their boots rotting in the jungle filth. Their supply lines collapsed behind them, their air cover was nonexistent, and still, they pressed forward, clawing their way through the mud, dragging their wounded, carrying their dead, refusing to surrender to the inevitable. They had crossed rivers choked with corpses, scaled mountains under sheets of unrelenting rain, and bled into the earth of a land that was never theirs to take. Yet, despite every conceivable disadvantage, despite the sheer, insurmountable power of the British war machine, they nearly did the impossible.

Imphal was within reach. The gates to India stood before them, and for one terrible moment, history teetered on the edge of catastrophe. Had they broken through, had they taken the city, the course of the war in Asia would have been rewritten in fire and ruin. But war does not reward the desperate. It does not yield to the starving or the brave. It is not won by sheer will. It is won by those who command the sky, who control the flow of men and munitions, who strike not with passion, but with precision.

And at Imphal, the 15th Army found themselves not at the threshold of victory, but at the gates of their own destruction. Slim had laid his trap well. His forces did not falter, his supply lines did not break, and when the time came, he slammed the door shut with the full weight of an empire behind him. The Japanese did not just fail at Imphal, they were consumed by it. An entire army was left to rot in the mud and the monsoon, their bones swallowed by the jungle, their ambitions drowned in blood. What began as an invasion ended as a graveyard. And with it, the last, desperate dream of a Japanese India died forever.

 Hope you enjoyed that episode. All right, let's move over to the comment section. Sit rep on yesterday's episode. Listener Kuyu, K-U-L-A-Y-Y-U, wrote The chechens were radicalized by the Wahabi Saudis at the behest of the USA as a continuation of Operation Cyclone. From Afghanistan.

Well, Kyo, that is poignant, but.  Uh, the Grand Chess board theory where every conflict is just another shadow move by the usual suspects. Well, it's true that Wahabi influence crept into Chechnya in the nineties, the idea that the entire resistance was a Made in America sequel to Operation Cyclone Oversimplifies, the War ii. 

Well, nearly a point of parody, chechen nationalism and resistance to Russian rule predate the Cold War by about. Uh, two centuries. The Saudis didn't need to radicalize men whose ancestors had already spent generations fighting Russian expansion was there foreign influence?

Of course, wars attract opportunists, but to produce the entire chechen struggle to a CIA plot is like saying Napoleon only invaded Russia because the British asked him to nicely.  Chechnya's war was about survival, sovereignty, and history. Not just backroom deals in Langley.

but thank you for bringing the Wahhabi Saudis into the story. That was a key piece. I excluded.  Listener to serve and to protect. Commented on the siege of Lee Edge.  Many people think that the first World War was a useless war. Let me ask you,

Would you have allowed Germanized in your own country? Because that's what the Honorable Prussian Officers Costa, that dominated the German Reich of the Zos was doing to the Slavic populations since the 1870s, way before Hitler was even born, had France fallen. They would've tried to Germanize it whole and Italy and then the UK would've been next. 

Well, thank you to serve and protect for the comment  your argument touches on a common but somewhat exaggerated view of Germany's ambitions in World War I. So while it's true that Prussian militarism and policies of Germanization were imposed on certain Slavic populations, particularly in areas like Prussian, Poland, there's little historical evidence to suggest.

The Germany's war aims in 1914 included the wholesale Germanization of France, Italy, or Britain. Germany's primary goal in the west was the rapid defeat of France to secure continental dominance, not cultural or ethnic assimilation on a large  scale.

The September program of 1914, drafted by German Chancellor Bethann-Hollweg envisioned a Europe where France would be strategically weakened. Belgium reduced to a German vassal state and economic dominance established, but not mass German,  even in occupied territories like Belgium and Northern France, the German approach was more about control

then forced assimilation, had France fallen in Germany would've likely imposed a harsh piece, much like the Treaty of Frankfurt in 1871. Perhaps annexing border regions enforcing economic concessions, but the idea that they would've ger France in its entirety, let alone Italy or Britain, just lacks historical support.

The aggressive Prussian policies towards Slavic minorities were concerning, but applying that same framework to Western Europe kind of oversimplifies Germany's war aims World War I was not a clear cut battle between democracy and oppression. It, it was an imperial struggle between competing great powers.

Germany's defeat prevented its domination of Europe, but whether it also prevented a widespread campaign of forced Germanization remains debatable.  Thanks for listening. We'll see you tomorrow