A World War II story of misplaced panic, scare
Why hasn’t The Great Flap received the attention it deserves? The book has delightful tales to tell, none more amazing than what happened at Madras Zoo.
Eighty years after it ended, most people believe there’s very little we don’t know about World War II. Mukund Padmanabhan has just proved that wrong. Paradoxically, he’s written a book about an event that never happened but was the cause of considerable panic. It’s called The Great Flap of 1942: How the Raj Panicked over a Japanese Non-invasion.
After Singapore fell in February 1942, fear spread westwards right across what was still Britain’s Indian Empire and, in particular, Madras, as it was then called. Proximity to the Malay Peninsula suggested it could be Japan’s next target.
The degree of panic was astonishing, particularly when you recall the fear was speculative and nothing actually happened. By the time Singapore fell, one-third of Madras’s population had fled. Six weeks later, the Indian Express says the city’s population was down to just 25%. An ICS officer, Paul Jayarajan, believes it collapsed to 13%. This means 700,000 out of 800,000 had fled! Padmanabhan comments: “While the figure may seem incredible, it’s far from implausible.”
The book has delightful tales to tell, none more amazing than what happened at Madras Zoo. “The lions, tigers, panthers, bears and venomous snakes were located and shot dead … the kill order was carried out to avert the risk of dangerous animals breaking free and preying on Madras residents in the event of Japanese bombs destroying the zoo and its enclosures.” It seems the highest price was paid by these animals.
The truth is something similar happened in London. “A staggering 400,000 to 750,000 cats and dogs are estimated to have been killed in the first week of the war in early September 1939.” So, much as the Brits love their pets they didn’t hesitate to sacrifice them.
The governor may not have fled but the judges of Madras high court certainly did. Sir Sidney Wadsworth “set off for Anantapur in two cars with his wife, driver, butler, cook and three dogs. Mattresses were strapped to the top of their vehicles, which were loaded with a mix of necessities and valuables such as crockery, utensils, clothes, law books and silver lamps.” Two weeks later he was back. After a jolly good holiday.
ICS officers did not desert. Instead, they found meretricious ways of thwarting the Japanese. Jayarajan, in the company of the Raja of Chettinad, guzzled vast quantities of wine at the Madras Club. Then “they poured the surplus down the drain”.
In Delhi, where fear of Japanese bombers should have been least worrying, the poet WH Auden’s brother John Bicknell Auden thought up a ludicrous scheme to protect the grand buildings of South Block. He designed a contraption to produce “profuse clouds of smoke that would obscure them”. It only resulted in pollution.
In the United Provinces (now Uttar Pradesh), rumour fanned the panic. “There was a story that a Japanese man had parachuted to a mela, addressed the gathering and ‘returned to the skies by the same means’.” This was apparently widely believed.
Towards the end, Padmanabhan raises serious questions but, sadly, doesn’t answer them. “Should the mere threat of an imagined invasion have impacted India so much? Should the administration have gotten so alarmed? Should there have been a countrywide panic?”
Of course, there were critics. The Statesman thundered in rebuke: “Is the Government of India arranging to withdraw to Tibet? Or are we at last about to scale the Pamirs and reach the roof of the world? And are there no guts left somewhere?” But no one was listening.
So, why hasn’t The Great Flap received the attention it deserves? Apparently, because there are “hardly any detailed Indian accounts”. Padmanabhan knew of it from his mother and grandfather, who vacated Madras for safety elsewhere. Their stories led him to dig further. As a result, he discovered both how widespread the panic had been but also how exaggerated and, often, comic the response.
If this reminds you of Dad’s Army, that impression might not be mistaken.
Karan Thapar is the author of Devil’s Advocate: The Untold Story. The views expressed are personal