If the echoes of World War II have any resonance in 21st century Myanmar then events have not yet reached the point in April 1945 when the delusional commander-in-chief of a defeated German army directed non-existent divisions from an underground bunker amid the ruins of the national capital.
They are, though, plausibly at a similar point to August 1944 when two months after the D-Day landings German forces had just suffered a crippling defeat in Normandy’s “Falaise Pocket” and the Nazi high command confronted the prospect of an overwhelming Allied advance on the German homeland.
The Myanmar military’s commander-in-chief Senior General Min Aung and his generals in Naypyidaw’s war room are now facing their own “Falaise Pocket” moment in the shape of an insurgent offensive that has swept across the north of Shan state over the last two weeks.
Dubbed “Operation 1027” for its October 27 launch date, the coordinated onslaught brought together forces of the so-called Brotherhood Alliance composed of three insurgent factions which have operated together since at least 2014.
The trio includes the mainly ethnic Chinese Myanmar Nationalities Democratic Alliance Army (MNDAA), which is spearheading operations in and around Kokang in the far northeast of the state; the ethnic Palaung Ta’ang National Liberation Army (TNLA), which dominates the northwestern hills and operates along the Mandalay-Muse highway; and the ethnic Rakhine Arakan Army (AA), which is based in Rakhine state on Myanmar’s western seaboard but which fields a contingent of around 1,500 troops alongside its allies in the north of Myanmar.
Within the first two weeks of hostilities, Brotherhood forces had seized several towns along the Chinese border, including importantly Chin Shwe Haw and Namkhan, and overrun scores of military bases and posts capturing huge stocks of munitions.
How Myanmar’s military leadership will respond to this debacle in the coming days and weeks remains strikingly unclear and is certainly not made easier by significant dysfunction following the recent sacking of army chief-of-staff Lieutenant General Moe Myint Tun on charges of massive corruption.
But in strategic terms, the armed forces command faces three broad options, none of them attractive or likely to deflect the ultimate trajectory of a war it is now clearly losing.
One option would involve the launching of a major counteroffensive aimed at retaking the economically vital trade artery that runs from Mandalay in central Myanmar to the trade hub of Muse on the northeastern border with China which remains under regime control.
Another would be to attempt to retain strongholds in northern Shan state anchored on the regional capital and headquarters of the Northeastern Regional Military Command (RMC) in Lashio city and fight for time.
A third would entail a bold decision to undertake a strategic withdrawal from the north Shan region and possibly also eastern Shan state, pulling out troops and where possible hardware while there is time to bolster defensive lines around the heartland centers of Mandalay and the fortress capital of Naypyidaw.
All three options have pros and cons. Anchored on the garrison city of Pyin Oo Lwin in the hills overlooking Mandalay, a big push counteroffensive backed by air power and armored forces that to date have been little deployed in the conflict would serve to restore the flow of trade with China.
That would also impress on Beijing that Naypyidaw is still capable of controlling points on the border and that banking on the Brotherhood Alliance is necessarily a bad bet. It would also act to salve military honor and restore severely shaken morale.
These arguments, doubtless reinforced by the Myanmar Army’s congenitally aggressive instincts, are offset by other factors, however.
First, any such counterpunch would necessarily be channeled along only one dangerously narrow primary line of advance: the highway leading from Pyin Oo Lwin through the towns of Naungcho, Kyaukme and Hsipaw to Lashio; and then from Lashio through Hsenwi and Kutkai north to Muse on the border.
Spearheaded by elements from Naypyidaw’s Light Infantry Division (LID) assault units – Myanmar’s equivalent of the Nazis’ Waffen SS – and backed by a concentrated commitment of armor and air power, an initial advance should break through mainly TNLA forces scattered across the hill country along the highway relatively easily.
But holding open the highway that stretches over nearly 400 kilometers in the face of aggressive insurgent harassment would prove a constant, debilitating drain on vehicles and manpower that would ultimately throw into question the value of the entire enterprise.
The counteroffensive would also require assembling a divisional-size task force of at least 2,000-3,000 troops in an army that is already severely overstretched, inevitably weakening the defenses around other key positions.
And importantly, the success of such a campaign would hinge critically on leadership in the person of a “fighting general” capable of commanding from the front and inspiring already demoralized troops.
In a military bureaucracy riddled with corruption where officers beyond colonel level rarely lead combat forces in the field, theater-level commanders of this caliber have been conspicuous by their absence for decades.
Today such a general would need to emerge from somewhere in the ranks between Myanmar Army commander and regime strongman Vice Senior General Soe Winn – who has a reputation as a “soldiers’ soldier” but now shoulders daunting countrywide responsibilities – and the commanders of any of the army’s ten LIDs whose duties are specific to their own divisional commands.
With a background in military education, current Northeastern RMC commander Brigadier General Naing Naing Oo is probably not that man and if there is any other candidate for the role he has yet to step forward.
Finally, the offensive would involve advancing through towns like Hsenwi (where a key bridge on the highway was blown in the opening hours of Operation 1027) with the prospect that the ultimate objective of Muse might already have fallen to the Brotherhood before it could be secured – implying the need for a far larger and inevitably costly urban battle immediately on China’s border to retake it.
All these factors militate powerfully against risking a strategic counteroffensive into northern Shan state.
The second option – defending key strongpoints in the region – has the advantage of reinforcing a response that has been in play since Operation 1027 began.
This involves flying reinforcements into the Lashio bridgehead from secure zones, such as Yangon, Meiktila and Mandalay, and then using helicopters to stage airmobile insertions into smaller bases and towns, buying time and possibly setting the stage for smaller offensive operations when the 1027 wave has exhausted its potential.
But by deploying crucially needed resources into a fight that has arguably already been strategically lost, the dangers here are also stark. There is already virtually zero prospect of retaking Kokang in the far northeast corner of Shan state and the fall of the regional capital of Laukkai is now almost certainly just a matter of time.
If insurgent forces succeed in tightening their grip along the highway north and south of Lashio, that city too could be surrounded and slowly squeezed, trapping forces flown in to relieve it. And were its airport to be shut down by artillery fire, the ghosts of Dien Bien Phu would hover over Shan state.
Finally, there is the radically alternative strategy of withdrawing from rather than reinforcing northern Shan state. This option makes real sense in terms of husbanding exposed manpower and materiel, especially if that withdrawal were to be broadened to include the two RMCs in the east of the state, the Triangle Command in Kengtung and the East-Central Command in Koilam on the Kengtung-Taunggyi highway.
A withdrawal to the strongpoints of Pyin Oo Lwin defending Mandalay and the Shan state capital of Taunggyi screening the Naypyidaw Capital Region would free up several thousand troops whose utility in the defense of those key cities would be crucial.
The downsides are also striking though. At one level, strategic withdrawal would imply a psychologically near-impossible abandonment of the army’s deeply ingrained sense of institutional mission as an “all-of-Myanmar” force sworn to the “perpetuation of national sovereignty” and “non-disintegration of the union.”
Practically speaking, it would also effectively mean surrendering Shan state east of the Salween River to the United Wa State Army (UWSA), which would emerge from behind the wall of its ceasefire with Naypyidaw and in a matter of days join up Wa territory along the Chinese border with the separate swath of territory it already controls along Shan state’s southern border with Thailand.
The upshot of these unpalatable considerations is likely to be a compromise strategy which in reality is less a strategy than the reaction of the proverbial deer frozen in the headlights.
Northern Shan state will be reinforced where possible to attempt a protracted defense of Lashio and Muse while assets under the two RMCs in Keng Tung and Koilam will be left in place to be overtaken by events in Myanmar’s national heartland – and then very probably face the ignominious prospect of having anyway to surrender to the UWSA.
Compounding the dilemmas confronting Myanmar’s generals is the fact that the battle for Shan state in the coming weeks will not be happening in isolation.
The November 13 return to hostilities of the powerful insurgent Arakan Army (AA) in Rakhine will undoubtedly tie down the several thousand troops including important LID elements already committed to the defense of the western seaboard state.
Equally, the current push by resistance forces in Kayah state led by the Karenni Nationalities Defense Force (KNDF) to seize the state capital of Loikaw is also demanding attention and resources.
At the same time, the battle for the Sagaing region town of Tigyaing on the Ayeyarwady River near the border with Kachin state could have a potentially decisive impact on the future of the war in northern Myanmar and by extension the national situation.
Were Tigyaing and its strategic bridge across the river to fall to a local alliance of Kachin Independence Army (KIA), AA and local anti-military peoples defense forces (PDFs) already reportedly fighting inside the town, the logistics lifeline linking the military in central Myanmar to Kachin state would effectively be cut.
Resupply of the northern RMC based in the Kachin state capital of Myitkyina would then depend on air transport, which over even the medium term is not sustainable.
The now real possibility that the debacle in Shan state will in the coming dry season months – or possibly even sooner – be paralleled by the loss of Rakhine, Kayah and Kachin states essentially presents military planners in Naypyidaw with a potential checkmate situation and the end of the war as a rational military undertaking.
At that point, it is reasonable to expect that either on the watch of Senior General Min Aung Hlaing or, more likely, after his departure, a proposal for a cessation of hostilities and negotiations will emerge from Naypyidaw.
How Myanmar’s still fragmented opposition responds to such an initiative that will almost certainly not involve a white flag of unconditional surrender will be critical to the country’s post-conflict future.