FREE ARTICLE: French Indochina in WW2
Actual, bonafide 'forgotten' history
I’m going to start by calling someone out here: Mr. Lyman, he is absolutely lovely and you should definitely subscribe to his Substack too here, but he wrote a book: “A War of Empires” in which the subtitle was “Japan, India, Burma and Britain.’ France is mentioned on two pages. WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO TO ME ROB. This is all lols, because it is a good book, and if you read his introduction, you will understand why he covered what he did. But my cheese and wine loving brain starts spiralling. I know what you’re thinking, especially if you’re Rob, (write your own damn book Alex - watch this space) but it did send me looking down rabbit holes for the story of the French in Asia and the Pacific in the Second World War. And, sorry, but now you will all end up suffering because I’ve found lots to stay.
A map from about 1930 showing the extent of the French Empire. (Bibliothèque nationale française)
French Indochina in WW2 is something I intend come back to more than once, but to start us off, we’re going to buddy up with Admiral and imminent Governor General, Jean Decoux. His own story is a potential for my film pitch articles; he goes from hero to zero, to exoneration and then hero again before he’s done, but for our purposes today, children, he’s a vibrant voice to set the international scene in Southeast Asia prior to the outbreak of war in Europe in 1939.
Jean Decoux was born in 1884, and had served in the French navy since he was a boy. By 1939, he was a Rear Admiral.
Catholic French missionaries had arrived in modern-day Vietnam in the early 1600s, and by 1858, the ruling Nguyễn dynasty had been ousted and France began colouring the map red. (Bibliothèque nationale française)
In January 1939. Decoux was at Toulon relaxing when he received a letter from the Chief of the General Staff of the Navy. ‘In his direct and somewhat brutal manner, [he] asked me to urgently let him know, yes or no, whether I agreed to be appointed as soon as possible, as Commander-in-Chief of our naval forces in the Far East.’ Decoux sailed from Marseille in mid-April, one week after Britain and France signed a mutual pact to come to the aid of Poland if Hitler attacked, and agreed to support Romania and Greece in similar circumstances. In the days that followed, Italy had occupied Albania, sending King Zog and Queen Geraldine running for the hills; the Dutch mobilised forces along their border with Germany, and Hungary withdrew from the League of Nations. As the Président-Doumer slipped out of Marseille, the port was on high alert. The last Frenchman they saw was a skeptical-looking reservist standing guard behind an ancient machine gun on the pier.
A month later, Decoux was flying his flag on the cruiser Lamotte-Picquet at Saigon. Plenty of people disparaged his new command, but he was all enthusiasm. ‘Although the naval force entrusted to me was composed of only a small number of disparate units, without much military value and scattered over an immense theatre, the post for which I now assumed responsibility was nonetheless rich in possibilities of all kinds, both maritime and diplomatic.’ That, and he was excited to get to know the region, ‘these Chinese seas that I did not know, and our prestigious Indochina, the pride of the Empire!’
French naval power in Southeast Asia was limited. Under his flag, in addition to the Lamotte-Picquet Decoux had another light cruiser, Primauguet, ‘which then stood guard in front of the French concession in Shanghai, sensitive point and keystone of our establishment in China, three colonial dispatch boats stationed on the Chinese coast, and finally a flotilla of six gunboats distributed between the Si-Kiang and the Yang-Tsé-Kiang, one of which was located at Chunking.’
What was the situation in the Far East?
In Decoux’s own words:
‘It was certainly very worrying: since the beginning of the second “China incident” (1937), Japan, taking advantage of the European unrest with singular audacity, had constantly pushed its advantages… The last two years had been fertile in incidents of all kinds, constantly bringing Japanese soldiers and sailors into conflict with… Great Britain and the United States. Of course these successive frictions calmed down one after the other, but the general tension gradually gained in intensity, so much so that behind the bittersweet notes and the formal smiles exchanged, the smell of gunpowder began to waft, spreading its subtle scents!’
There was a sense that time was running out, and that diplomacy was holding back the inevitable outbreak of war. ‘Asia was already on fire, in the distance Europe lived on perpetual alert: what would tomorrow bring?’ With this in mind, Decoux wasted no time in sailing up to Shanghai to meet his Royal Navy counterpart, Admiral Sir Percy Noble, Commander-in-Chief of the China Station. ‘I then exchanged official visits with… Yarnell (U.S.A.), Captain di Cirella (Italy) and Admiral Oykawa (Japan). No doubt these protocol contacts were marked by the greatest courtesy, however the commanding smiles of the Italian and the Japanese did little to conceal the ambient concern.’
In the weeks before Europe was engulfed in flames, there was a conference at Singapore made up of British and French officers; army naval and air. The purpose of the conference was for Britain and France to discuss what precautionary measures might be recommended to powers in the region if a new European war spread to the Pacific. Both America and the Netherlands were invited, but both declined to attend. Since the origin of the second "China Incident,” wrote Decoux, the army and navy of the Empire of the Rising Sun had been spreading, both by going up the course of the Yangtze and by progressing along the coast of China. What did this mean for France? As far as he saw it, Japan ‘had no other cause of friction with France than the thorny question of supplying Nationalist China via the Yunnan railway. It was therefore British interests which, until further notice, were the most directly targeted by Japanese operations.’ Decoux was sobered by what he heard about British resources in the region, but what did the French have on hand?
‘General Martin indicated the high figures to which the numbers of troops placed under his command could be increased, in the event of mobilisation. He specified, however, that in the event of war in Europe, the metropolis intended to make large withdrawals of riflemen and colonial workers from the human resources of Indochina.’
The possibility of the French supplying a stream of recruits was promising for her allies.
‘The English showed lots of interest in this information, and as the reinforcements of troops that they were planning for the Malay peninsula - a few regiments expected from India - would take a long time to achieve, they immediately asked us if, in case of tension in the Far East, and subject to the approval of the French government, Indochina could not possibly detach some of its troops as reinforcements, to contribute to the defence of the Malay peninsula. General Martin could only respond in evasive terms to such a suggestion.’
Obviously, he couldn’t agree to anything without approval from Paris.‘He felt it necessary to add that Indochina was itself very vulnerable, and found itself particularly exposed, due to its advanced position in the theatre of operations in the South-West Pacific. Now it was not customary, in war, to strip the outposts in favour of the main position, when an attack was to be feared.’ The Brits did not dispute this. Decoux, in the meantime, totted up what he had by way of naval resources and thought they would at least be worth something to an Allied effort being mounted against Japan. ‘Certainly, the means at my disposal were weak; They could, however, constitute, for the forces of the China Station, a support which was not negligible, in the event of conflict in the Far East.’
A view of Saigon under French control (Côte d'Azur University)
Decoux had also mentioned something else that made British ears prick up: the Bay of Cam-Ranh, a deep-water bay some 180 miles northeast of Saigon. The Japanese has proved its worth in 1905 when the Russian Navy used it as a staging area before the Battle of Tsushima. As he explained it:
‘The French government had, a long time ago, taken the decision in principle to develop a modern base, as soon as sufficient funds were available… This point immediately caught the attention of the English admiral, who underlined all the value that this natural position could one day present for British forces having to operate in these areas, in liaison with [ours]. The British Commander-in-Chief therefore insisted that the importance of Cam-Ranh be brought to the attention of the French government, expressing the hope that the work of installing the new base would be undertaken as soon as possible. I of course gave my full agreement to this proposal.’
In so far as what they actually had on hand to deploy, the two nations compared what air assets they could supply. ‘The English lacked exploration and major bombardment aircraft. But they had the hope of receiving reinforcements before long. The French, for their part, were almost devoid of modern equipment, except for fighter formations. They could, on the other hand, put several long-range aircraft online, if necessary, for reconnaissance and bombing operations to be envisaged in the South China Sea.’ How were they to be employed in the face of the threat of a huge, multi-national war edging ever closer in Asia and the Pacific? ‘It was understood that the pooling of these resources would be studied by the two staffs… and that the English would insist on the rapid dispatch to Malaysia of a large contingent of modern aircraft.’
Finally, the French and the British discussed the two absent, friendly imperial powers: ‘Although it followed the Pacific question very closely, the American government remained faithful to… isolationism. As for the Dutch government, its delicate position, both in Europe and in Indonesia, urged it to observe the greatest caution.’
For the French, key in Indochine’s position was a very long, shared border with another potentially hostile nation: ‘There remained the thorny question of Thailand. Since Marshal Luang Pibul Songram carried out his coup d'état in 1937, and thus became the dictator of this country, Siamese politics had continued to play into the hands of Japanese expansionism. Indochina found itself, from that moment, threatened, in the same way as certain Malay states.’ Decoux could not fathom what he saw as British insistence on seeing Thailand in a favourable light despite all of the facts available to them, ‘still considering this country as its private preserve, [they] had continued until then to deny the evidence… This resulted in a worrying situation:
‘At the Singapore conference, the French delegation believed it necessary to recall indisputable facts, and denounced the threat. While the danger of war was brewing, both in the Far East and in Europe, did England and France have the right to let the government in Bangkok pursue such a murky policy, and thus play into the hands of Japanese companies? in the Far East? This was not the opinion of the French envoys.
The British delegation was obliged to accept these reasons; it was finally admitted that the attention of the two governments of Paris and London would be urgently drawn to the need to put the Thai government up against the wall, and to force it, before it was too late, to bring down his cards.’
Following the conference, Decoux undertook another tour of the region, this time up towards Halong Bay. From there, he planned to sail up to see Admiral Noble at Wei Hai Wei, then after another voyage journey overland to Peking by train, to visit the French Ambassador. War intervened in his plans.
The outbreak of war in Europe
Aboard the Lamotte-Picquet, Admiral Decoux had made it as far as Wei-Hai-Wei by the end of August, ‘where we were fraternising with our British comrades; the most pleasant contacts were established or developed between the officers of the two navies… This general euphoria was suddenly interrupted by the worrying rumours of a new European tension. On 23rd, they received news of the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact of German-Soviet non-aggression. This was alarming, to say the least:
‘My British colleague, while remaining very calm, seemed gloomy; he wondered, in fact, if a new war broke out in Europe, if the Japanese were not going to take advantage of it to launch a sudden attack against the British positions in the Far East and, first and foremost, on Wei-Hai-Wei. So he immediately resolved to evacuate this base and retreat that same day to Hong Kong, with all his forces.
I… decided to urgently reach Indochina at high speed. The harbour of Wei-Haï-Wei suddenly gave the spectacle of lively activity. The ships were lighting fires, and the boats were making incessant shuttles across the harbour. The wives of British officers, interrupting their summer vacation without warning, boarded an oil tanker with their children and luggage. The Commander-in-Chief's yacht, also bound for Hong Kong, had Lady Noble on board.’
The Lamotte-Picquet arrived in Saigon on 28th August, having covered the 2,200 miles to Saigon in less than five days. French mobilisation was decreed on 2nd August, and on 3rd, France was at war. ‘Peking and its wonders now vanished from my eyes, in space and in time.’
In essence, Decoux’s role now was simple, though daunting 'I was responsible for the maritime surveillance of a huge sector including the China Seas and the Indian Ocean. My essential mission consisted of ensuring, within the limits of the scant means at my disposal, freedom of communications by sea with France.’ Nazi Germany’s presence was even smaller than his own, ’but submarines and long-range "raiders" could appear at any time, and commit inevitable and terrible depredations.’’
Decoux made for Hong Kong to confer with Noble:
‘During important and most confident discussions, which showed on all points our complete community of views, it was understood that we would act in close liaison, and that for this purpose, we would meet personally as often as possible. For the moment, our immediate task was limited to ensuring the close surveillance of German merchant ships, which the outbreak of hostilities in Europe had immobilised, not only in Japan, but also in Sumatra and Java. I left Saigon shortly after, with my flagship; to escort to Colombo, via Singapore, the first French steamer, loaded with riflemen and Indo-Chinese workers, which was heading towards France.’
Here is the fall of France in the Admiral’s own words:
‘I returned to Hong Kong for the last time at the beginning of May 1940. The news from Europe was becoming more alarming day by day, and our allies were very worried about this situation. Events would then rush forward at an astonishing pace. After Holland and Belgium, our country in turn suffered a new and terrible invasion; and the first rumours of an upcoming armistice did not take long to reach us.’
A view of Halong Bay, (Côte d'Azur University)
‘On 17th June, the Lamotte-Picquet, arriving last from Saigon, anchored in the harbour of Halong Bay, from where I intended to reach Hanoi, to confer on the situation with the Governor General… General Catroux appeared to me to be overwhelmed, as I was myself, by the dramatic turn that events in Europe had taken. Paris had been occupied since the 14th by the Germans. I returned to my ship the same evening and we arrived on 22nd June in Saigon… Three days later, there was the terrible news of the armistice. When I learned about it, I had no idea that this event marked the prelude to the most exciting, but also the heaviest and most dangerous, mission of my career.
The French in Indochina were anxiously questioning the future. Everyone wondered where salvation was, and what our duty could be. The initial reflex of most, and soon the unanimous hope of the best among them, was that the Empire would be able, despite the defeat of the metropolitan armies, to continue the struggle, under the direction and responsibility of an external government who showed itself worthy of this great mission.
In my capacity as Commander-in-Chief of the French naval forces in the Far East, I took a clear position in this direction, with the French Admiralty, from 23rd June, at a time when I was without precise news from reactions of French Africa and the Levant with regard to the armistice, and where I still knew almost everything about the Japanese threat, which was already weighing down Indochina. I quote below verbatim my message to Admiral Darlan… Commander-in-Chief of the French Maritime Forces.
“Unanimous feeling in Indochina is that the French Empire must continue the fight with all the land, naval and air forces withdrawn from France in close liaison with Great Britain and intensified aid from the United States.
This solution, in the opinion of all those responsible, is the only one, compatible with the honour and interest of France, Indochina in particular being condemned to asphyxiation if England withdraws its support or becomes hostile. Measures taken by the British have already created a difficult situation in the Far East, impossible to maintain… I respectfully insist that Empire fate is not linked to the fate of the metropolis, and that full latitude is left to those in charge on site.”’
All Decoux received in return was a information circular from Darlan the next day, widely distributed:
‘1. Situation which led to requesting an armistice:
Dispersed French army no longer offering resistance and allowing total occupation of the country;
Resistance in North Africa would be without practical significance, and would abandon our homeland to invasion… Little local support to be expected from England or the United States. Probable officially announced hostility from Spain if we resist in Africa; Egypt very shaken.’
No small amount of blame for France’s dire situation was blamed on Great Britain:
‘The English have shown themselves to be mediocre soldiers on land and our setbacks come partly from their army; their success seems random; no effective help to be expected from the United States for a long time;
…Current negotiations will probably involve immobilisation of the French fleet in French metropolitan or colonial ports, until the cessation of Anglo-German hostilities. Germany solemnly undertakes never to claim our fleet, even in definitive peace;’
Darlan did at least solicit some opinion from the colonies. Decoux gave it to him with both barrels, in a response that in his own words was ‘brutally frank.’
‘France's defeat will only be definitive if Germany succeeds in beating all its adversaries. Until then I believe that it is the duty of all available French forces to lend maximum support to Germany's adversaries. In my opinion, there is no other solution consistent with France's interests;
I expect in any case that full latitude will be given to me to settle on the spot, in agreement with the Governor General.’
At this point, Decoux held out hope:
‘At the same time, Saigon was in turmoil. We must not forget that Cochin China represents the south of Indochina, and that it constitutes its nerve centre, economically and commercially. Meetings of veterans, held in the southern metropolis, put Governor General Catroux on notice to continue the fight. Noisy demonstrations followed one another, in front of the residence of the consul general of Great Britain; finally, most of the storefronts on Rue Catinat displayed, prominently, the intertwined flags of France and Great Britain.
In Tonkin, Hanoi, the administrative capital, populated largely by civil servants, remained calmer. Only the military men showed great nervousness; and some young officers… held secret meetings, where extreme solutions were considered. This great enthusiasm was a flash in the pan. Soon, in fact, the harsh reality would appear before everyone's eyes: the adventurous position of Indochina, head to head with Japan, 10,000 miles from defeated France.
The armistice, as we know, was signed at Rethondes on 22nd June, and the atrocious news was immediately known throughout Indochina; it produced the effect of a real cataclysm, but everyone kept, deep in their hearts, the great hope of which I have already spoken. For my part, I was convinced that if the "government of overseas France" were to be constituted, that if a leader worthy of the name emerged from the mass, to take the head of this government, and galvanise the Empire, we would learn it within the next twenty-four hours.’
Those 24 hours passed by without word. At this point, Decoux later wrote, he became convinced that the man that France needed at that moment did not exist. However, [the Governor General] and I were keen to find out… To the anguished questions that… we asked [of our colleagues across the colonies] …we were not slow to receive from these responsible leaders responses that were [concordant] yet [not very encouraging. North Africa and the Levant after having hesitated for a moment, intended to remain faithful to the legal government, and to comply with the clauses of the armistice.’
Here is the explanation that Decoux later gave for why, for now at least, he was resolved to toe the line with what was about to become the infamous, collaborative Vichy Government led by one of France’s saviours of the First World War, Philippe Pétain:
‘For various reasons, Indochina could not in any way think of adopting a different attitude. On the one hand, a very high proportion of the French element - in civil servant circles in particular - did not want to hear about dissidence at any price. On the other hand, the Japanese threat… had, on June 19, made its appearance at the very gates of Indochina, and around the same time, the Tokyo government had forcefully declared to our ambassador, that he would respect the status quo in Asia if it were not undermined by other parties…
Governor General Catroux, without a doubt, had first thought of politically separating Indochina from the metropolis; but he had to face the facts very quickly. Under penalty of precipitating the Japanese invasion, and thus consummating the irremediable loss of our possession, it was no longer possible for him to break with the regular government…
The fate of the naval force, which I commanded] at the time of the armistice, remained closely linked to that of Indochina. No doubt I had first thought of rallying, with the units dependent on my flag, the forces of Admiral Noble, commander in chief of the China Station, general officer with whom I had collaborated until then in perfect harmony.
But it did not take me long to realise that this project, if it still appealed to certain young officers in search of adventure, revolted the conscience of a notable fraction of the staff and crews. The attitude of the mobilised sailors from the merchant navy then in Indochina was symptomatic in this respect. This staff, composed almost exclusively of trade unionists with advanced ideas, discreetly informed me that those concerned would refuse to turn their backs on the sole legal government of France, and to admit the principle of any dissidence with regard to this government.
Personally, I had never been seduced by the idea of rallying the British forces, and continuing the fight alongside them, without depending on a French government worthy of the name. This consideration did not stop certain heated minds, and I still hear one of my colleagues telling me: “We will fly the British flag on our buildings if necessary.”I don't think it's useful to specify here that I never had such a thought. I only know one pavilion, glory and full of history, so as not to need any addiction or overload. I have never served, and I will never serve, any other colours, even those of the Union Jack. On 27th June, I therefore decided that the forces placed under my authority would comply with the clauses of the armistice.’
Now, all the French had to do to their British friends in Southeast Asia, was them that they were about to abandon them…
The main source for this article was Decoux’s memoir, A la Barre de L'Indochine. As soon as he got exonerated for his part in the war, he picked up a pen and had his say, publishing it in 1949.
Prologue is done already lo
😈