May 8: When World War II hysteria ended in city

After the Allies of  World War II formally accepted Nazi Germany’s unconditional surrender of its armed forces on 8 May 1945, the world sighed in relief as the Second World War was the most widespread conflict in history. 

It was truly a global feud that lasted from 1939 to 1945. Nearly every country in the world participated in it and so did India. Although the war hardly touched her doorstep, the threat loomed large and the hue and cry over a distant war disrupted life over a decade. The effect was felt particularly strong in southern India, especially Madras. Madras faced only one day of direct conflict in the six years of war and yet suffered from a hysteria never before seen in her history. It was a period of paradox. Where on one side there was a mass evacuation being carried out, on the other side, there was a refugee influx from the Far East.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that every citizen of Madras was touched by the war, suffered its scarcities and feared its malice. Even the zoo animals were not spared. 

Madras had many military establishments after the fall of Singapore. American and RAF planes used the Meenambakkam aerodrome, Sholavaram and Tambaram tracks for sorties against Japanese forces. Sea planes even used Red Hills Lake as an emergency runway.

Avadi, conceived in 1943, was described in 1946 as the largest military base of its kind in India and possibly the British empire. It covered 20 square miles from Avadi to Pattabiram stations. It was entirely self-dependent in terms of water and electricity.

The secret base was built with Rs 8 crore mainly as a reserve storage and repair facility. Around 10,000 people were employed in an ordnance depot, all sworn to secrecy. One lakh tonnes of supplies and 11 million litres of fuel were safely stored there and the workshops could repair guns, tanks, lorries and even amphibious aircraft. The workshop could service 17,000 vehicles.

It had an extensive railway network within the base as well as three transit hospitals for those injured in the war. apart from schools, theatres and swimming pools. 

The “talkie” industry was only a decade old in Madras when its greatest challenge arrived. Wartime blackouts in the evening restricted evening shows and power cuts affected shooting schedules.

Tamil talkies were long, filled with songs (that earned additional revenue from gramophone records) and the audience was accustomed to it. But when major manufacturing companies of film negatives fell into enemy hands, films became scarce. The Defence of India Act announced that “no person shall produce any cinematograph film the length of which exceeds 11,000 feet”.

Tamil film makers were caught unawares as they lacked the resourcefulness of succinctly narrating a story in half the time without too many songs. Film production dwindled in Madras — From 39 films in 1940 to 14 in 1943. The government further ordered major studios make one war propaganda film for every two commercial ones they produced. Movies like Burma Rani even lampooned Hitler with the villain Japanese general Bakjina sporting a similar moustache.

Madras had one of the oldest zoos in the world, but like other zoos during the war, it too was uncertain about its future. What if it was bombed and the starving animals escaped? It did happen in Berlin where it took the authorities over a week to hunt down hungry carnivores from street to street.

Soon, as it became clear that the Japanese could rain bombs any moment, the Madras government had to act. The Corporation of the city, which ran the zoo, was informed to either transport the animals to a safe place or exterminate them. Zoos in Mysore, Hyderabad, Bhopal and Calcutta were offered the animals free but they refused as they foresaw the same problems with wild animals in urban settings.

Erode was willing to accept the beasts but the railways said it could transport them only after 16 April 1942 — five days after the corporation deadline.

So, the Malabar police was called in and the guns were loaded on the April 12.

Three lions, six lionesses, four tigers, eight leopards, four bears and a black panther were shot down within an hour. The elephant was spared as there were not enough people available to bury it.

With frequent war drills and sirens, the first line of Beach Road that runs parallel to the sea was feeling threatened. It was vulnerable to any invader from the east. The collector then shifted from Beach Road to what is now Stella Maris college, government offices shifted to Ooty, Coimbatore and Chingelpet.

Then panic started creeping in. Schools started demanding fees in advance and libraries asked members to return their tickets. The government, however, continued to assert that Madras was safe to live in and even Gandhi voiced his stand against evacuation. Then Colombo Kakinada and Vizagapatnam were attacked by Japanese bombers. People in Madras were nervous, expecting to be in the Japanese radar.  Every noise was suspect. Every bird in the sky was frightening. Then came the announcement “The government has reason to believe that the danger to Madras is now more serious and would advise all whose presence in the city is not essential, to leave within the next few days…’

Within hours the exodus began. Trains leaving Madras were full. Highways were demarcated for slow traffic such as bullock carts and fast traffic like motor cars. Shops ran out of locks and thieves started stealing locks for resale. Property prices crashed as roughly a quarter of the city moved out in panic.

There were rumours that Madras city would be handed over to the military. This worried the citizens. Already there were complaints of friction between the locals with thousands of European and American soldiers spending time in the city. Several complaints of parked bicycles being taken away by these soldiers reached the police station. The soldiers frequented hotels in Mount Road, especially the ice cream shop of Jaffers and danced all night to the newly installed juke boxes. There were many shops which had installed boards with “Out of bounds for troops” messages and the soldiers were asked to keep away from these outlets.

Military trucks streamed all over Madras unchallenged. Bullock carts and pedestrians had no chance against them and casualties were brushed under the carpet under the rules of wartime censorship. Finally, when two high ranking officials such as the post master general and the superintendent of the jail were killed by these trucks, did the British government take it seriously.

announces possible targets For months, a female Japanese on a clandestine radio channel used to identify herself as ‘Red Rose’ and repeatedly told the audience where Japan was going to bomb India that day. In the absence of real news, people started believing the Japanese had already landed or were about to land any minute.

In 1943 there was a cyclone in Madras. Redhills and Chenbarambakkam lakes overflowed. Madras was a couple of feet under water. The power was cut off, communication from radio and newspapers were also limited. It was then that a lone Japanese bomber came over Madras and offloaded bombs north of the fort St George. Two men and a few cattle were killed. There was no official news but there were rumours of the damage. The governor announced in Kumbakonam that the bombing was inconsequential. But, rumours spread that thousands of people had been killed and the Chenbarambakkam lake had been breached by the bombs. Soon, however, with no more air raids, peace returned, but memories lingered. Years later, the thriller Andhanal was made about this particular day.

The Allied forces were severely short of funds to replace equipment like planes which had been downed by the German Lufthwaffe. They began fund collection drives in its colonies with great vigour to replace them. The carrot offered was that the squadron or plane would be named after the donor or the province that funded them.

Madras Presidency funded the creation or re-equipment with new aircraft of quite a few RAF squadrons. These were “Madras Presidency Squadrons”. When in 1940, No 35 squadron became the first in Bomber Command to be re-equipped with Halifaxes, the money for the new aircraft was given by the people of the Madras Presidency.

Planes in the Madras squadron were called St George, Guntur, Kurnool, Madura, Malabar, Ramnad and Trichinopoly.

The country faced a serious shortage of rice occurred when Burma was cut off by Japanese occupation. Rumours spread that the available rice had been diverted for the troops. The government introduced rationing to pacify an agitated population. It saw the beginning of rice smuggling. Air Raid Precautions (ARP) was set up in Madras dedicated to the protection of civilians from air raids. TUCS in big street Triplicane joined ARP in distributing food fairly. But the crowds in the queues became so unruly that constables had to be brought in to control buyers and later sales were stopped fearing a stampede.

Delicacies vanished from hotel menus. Vadais, bondas, idlies and dosas were being taken off the menus of most eateries. Wheat was being imported from Australia. But food tastes of people were not easy to change. Free cooking demonstrations were carried out with false claims that wheat is twice as nutritious as rice. This period also led to the invention of rava idly and gothumai dosais.

The German surrender was celebrated in Madras as VE day (Victory in Europe). While the world was agog with happiness on the prospective peace, Madras witnessed a muted celebration. The war with Japan from which Madras faced its primary threat wasn’t over yet. There were VE Day celebrations. Almost all the churches in Madras had their bells tolling continuously. The Hindu establishments didn’t lag behind. Kapaleeshwarar Temple served free food to the poor.

 

Meanwhile, around the same time, most of the newspapers in Madras were still playing big the conviction of Tamil movie super star MK Thyagaraja Bagavathar in a murder case (see pic). MKT had been accused of killing a blackmailer Lakshmikanthan who threatened to expose his secret and second marriage. 

MKT’s latest movie Haridas later ran for two and a half years.

The Madras provincial government, headed by Rajaji resigned in protest when Great Britain included India as a participant in the war. The British Raj, as part of the Allied Nations, had sent over two and a half million Indian soldiers to fight under the British command against the Axis powers. Many of them were from Madras presidency. 

Ironically, Madrasis fought on either side of the battle. 

Paramasiva Prabakara Kumaramangalam fought in Libya for the allied powers, was imprisoned as prisoner of war in Italy and Germany. After his release, he was called for tea at the Buckingham palace with the Royal family. He later became Chief of Army Staff of India.

Lakshmi Swaminathan, on the other hand, had joined the Indian National Army of Subhash Chandra Bose and moved in with Japanese troops to invade India (see pic). She was arrested before entering Imphal and was a prisoner of war in Burma. Lakshmi later became a social activist, member of parliament and a candidate in the presidential election on behalf of the communists.

Amid such tension, it was imperative to protect the city from bombing attacks. Buildings on the Marina such as Queen Mary’s college were painted grey to make them invisible to the bombers. Defence of India Act made the beach a prohibited area between lighting up time and sunrise. The lights on the Marina were fully extinguished and people who remained in the beach thereafter were arrested and fined Rs 3. Even fishermen relaxing under a spread out net were not spared. Street lights were put off. At the sound of the sirens, all households had to switch off their lights. Daytime saving was introduced and working hours were moved up by an hour so that people could reach home before blackout. 

Lights from automobiles had to be shaded and frequent automobile accidents were reported in the press.

All over the city’s roadsides, trenches had been dug across almost 50 kilometers for people to hide during air raids.

Different parts of India have traditionally been knit together by the Railways. But during times of war, the trains were required to transport soldiers and material to the warfront. Hence, the Railways wanted to discourage civilians from making too many journeys. 

It actually asked people, by means of newspaper advertisements, to question themselves whether their journey was necessary.

The Railways also had another reason. Many of the railway locomotives had been transferred to Mesopotamia for the war. The railways were actually using elephants to move wagons within station yards rather than spare an engine for them (see pic). Airline companies also placed advertisements, urging people to fly less.