Percival and the fall of Singapore

Percival and the fall of Singapore is a second major military example. Geoffrey Ryan (“Great Military Blunders” Macmillan 2000)  describes the Fall of Singapore as the result of British arrogance, racism, and a profound contempt for the Japanese. “In Singapore…… it was a holiday camp: everybody was fooling around and dance halls were going at full steam. We’d no idea there was going to be a war”. In 1941, a journalist, Ian Ward, made an extraordinarily perceptive summary of the mood:

“Very bad leadership, very bad planning and nobody seemed to want to criticise the commanding officers ……. war was something we really didn’t want to think about too hard.”

In many respects Singapore was a collapse waiting to happen. Successive British governments had paid lip service to its strategic significance, but gradually withdrew Naval, then RAF, support and, when threatened, sent untrained Australian and Indian soldiers.

Although the British and Allied troops heavily outnumbered the Japanese, defeatism set in. Having for so long turned a blind eye to the quality of the Japanese military, when the attacks came, the defenders panicked. The resulting rout was a story of poor communication, inadequate preparation and flagging morale against a flexible, well–trained and fast–moving enemy. In our review of leadership, however, there is much more to look at. First the lack of open debate and criticism mentioned above. Boards that operate around “no–go areas” and “undiscussables” are fundamentally flawed. Let’s look a little more closely at the character of General Percival. Why were the landward defences not strengthened? Why was there so much cover–up of the true threat? Why did Percival refuse (like Gamelin) to believe the overwhelming evidence of the Japanese line of attack?

After years of refusing to confront the reality of Japanese military strength, the “leaders” may have felt they could not now show themselves mistaken. Their Air Chief Marshall, Sir Robert Brooke–Popham castigated the local newspaper editors for publishing sightings of the enemy navy, dismissed them as “alarmist”, and continued to avow the competitive qualities of the obsolete British aircraft as quite good enough for Malaya. This denial bred a deadly complacency.

Just two months before Singapore capitulated, the Army briefing in the local newspaper said “We are ready …. Our preparations are made and tested…. We are confident. Our defences are strong and our weapons efficient”, the cover–up continued with misleading communiqués as the Japanese approached. The trouble is that not confronting reality in one area rapidly translates to others. With no black–outs, the first Japanese night raid was a demoralising success – even though the defenders had had thirty minutes’ warning of the attack.

Both General Percival and Gordon Bennett refused to listen to Chief Engineer Brigadier Simson’s pleas to create tank defences. Noel Barber (“Sinister Twilight”: Collins 1968 – quoted from Dixon’s “On the Psychology of Military Incompetence”) describes Simson’s final effort.

"He drew a deep breath and announced that he would like to take this opportunity of a heart–to–heart talk on the subject of defences. Percival looked a trifle startled, but sat down with a tired expression and listened. The general was a difficult man to ‘warm up’. Tall, thin, with two protruding teeth, he was a completely negative personality and his first instinct when faced with a problem was that it couldn’t be done – in direct contrast to Simson whose first thought was always “Well – let’s try”. This was why Simson had elected to stay and risk all at this strange meeting in the dead of night, and now he spoke with the passionate eloquence of the professional. Defences were his main job. He believed implicitly in their value which history had repeatedly proved in modern war. And he had all the materials to hand…. He had the staff and materials, he said to Percival, to throw up fixed and semi–permanent defences, anti–tank defences, underwater obstacles, fire traps, mines, anchored but floating barbed wire, methods of illuminating the water at night ….. To the Brigadier’s dismay, Percival refused his pleas.

It seems that Simson was past taking no for an answer, for he said to the general: “Sir – I must emphasise the urgency of doing everything to help our troops. They’re often only partially trained, they’re tired and dispirited. They’ve been retreating for hundreds of miles. And please remember, sir, the Japanese are better trained, better equipped, and they’re inspired by an unbroken run of victories…. and it has to be done now, sir …. once the area comes under fire, civilian labour will vanish.”

The plea was forceful, respectful and logical but, amazingly, the general remained unmoved. Simson, his anger rising, said: “Look here, General – I’ve raised this question time after time. You’ve always refused. What’s more, you’ve always refused to give me any reasons. At least tell me one thing – why on earth are you taking this stand?”

At long last the General Officer Commanding Malaya gave his answer. “I believe that defences of the sort you want to throw up are bad for the morale of troops and civilians.”

As Barber comments: “Simson was “frankly horrified” and remembers standing there in the room suddenly feeling quite cold”.

Norman Dixon suggests that the military see defences as “sissy”, that the manly action is to attack. He also suggests that admitting the need for defence was to accept the danger in which they stood. He points too to the “helpless resignation in the face of aggression”. Despite the evidence of an attack from the north–west, Percival made no moves to strengthen his defences. Instead he busied himself with moving stores from one area to another.

Eventually the General retreated into his own office, moved his bed there, and became immersed in irrelevant administrative detail. He, like Gamelin, lay submerged like a submarine without a periscope. Ultimately, the poor man, contemplating such anxiety, acted out the almost literal hiding from reality described elsewhere in this book.

It is worth adding that tall, thin, lanky and with buck–teeth, Percival had been bullied at school. Is it not possible that a regimented and hierarchical society such as the army, that was so structured as to resist open criticism, was the last place to help a frightened young man to grow into mature and self–confident manhood, the last place to help him challenge his own demons?

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