Sweeting brought with him two other men, Gregory and Urquhart, who had been picked up by Guignol’s Arabs after they had escaped from the prison cage at Benghazi. Gregory, a New Zealander, had been captured in June when the N.Z. Division broke through south of Matruh during the retreat to ’Alamein. The New Zealanders, judged by so competent an authority as Rommel to be the finest British troops in the Middle East, had used their bayonets to some effect, but this, in the opinion of the Herrenvolk, was an unfair way of fighting, despicable, it appeared, by comparison with the mass murder by machine-gun of Central European Jews. So on the morning following the New Zealanders were separated from the other prisoners. “You,” said the Huns, “will stand here in the sun and watch your fellow prisoners sitting there comfortably in the shade,” and thus for forty hours they kept them without water. The rest of his captivity Gregory had spent in Benghazi, one of 4500 men, with one tin of bully and some scraps of bread as their daily ration, sleeping three to a blanket and with no hot meal since June. In the end he shammed sick, got transferred to the so-called hospital and escaped during the usual Italian panic in a R.A.F. raid.
Though the Axis forces were not driven out of Cyrenaica for the last time until December, 1942, the Intelligence branch at Middle East had been taking an interest in Tripolitania long before then. Their interest as it affected us was a request to carry men, stores and wireless sets to some point within striking distance of Tripoli and to take out reliefs and fresh stores from time to time.
It was not easy to select such a point. It had to be accessible to our patrols, remote from the thickly populated areas of Tripolitania, and yet near enough for the Intelligence party to do the last stage of their journey by camel or on foot. In the end Bir Tala was chosen; there was water, Arabs believed to be friendly, and Lloyd Owen’s journey to Scemech in December, 1941, had shown that the route was passable to L.R.D.C.
Guild made the first trip from Kufra at the end of August and left three men with their food and wireless sets at Bir Tala. Three months later Tony Browne went up on the thousand mile journey from Kufra with fresh supplies and a relief wireless operator. The first man to go up had become very ill : he was, in fact, just “going bad” by degrees and when he got back to Kufra his body was a mass of sores.
Guild’s journey was uneventful, but Tony’s very different. On the way out he was caught by enemy fighters in the Wadi Tamet, about fifty miles south of the coast. The enemy were determined, diving down low over the cars, but T patrol fought back till their last round had gone. Pilkington who had been attached to us for a month from the Arab Legion and O’Malley, the navigator, were killed at their guns and two trucks were burnt out, but if they had not stood up to the strafing they would probably have lost all the cars in the patrol.
Tony had a lucky escape that day. He had been firing his gun till the ammunition began to run short and then handed it over to Pilkington while he climbed into the truck for more pans. As he was bending over the ammo, box the C.R. 42’s came in again. Pilkington was killed but Tony escaped with a bullet graze which made him take his meals standing for the rest of the jo.urney. He had lost two of his five trucks and one man was wounded besides the two killed, but he finished the job, sending one car back to Tazerbo with the wounded and going on himself with two to drop Flower and his supplies at Bir Tala.
Few men did more for L.R.D.G. than Tony. He joined with the first batch as a navigator, was then corporal, patrol sergeant, patrol commander, liaison officer at Middle East, instructor in navigation and general mentor to the Indian Long Range Squadron when it was being formed in Syria, guide and desert expert to an armoured car regiment at ’Alamein, guided the New Zealand Division in their “left hook” at ’Agheila—overworked, blown up and twice wounded, his D.C.M. and M.C. were well earned.
They were brave men, with a cold, calculated two o’clock-in-the-morning bravery, these “spies” whom we took up to the back door to Tripoli in the autumn of 1942—Flower and his companions whose names, since they were not all of them British, had better be left unrecorded. In Cyrenaica it was a fair risk that 90 per cent of the Arabs would be friendly, but in Tripolitania, where Italian oppression was less recent and where the material benefits of their rule loomed larger, Arab feeling towards the British was unknown. From Bir Tala they moved up into the hilly country south of Tripoli and soon found a friend who never deserted them in the difficult days ahead.
This was Sheikh Suleiman of the Awlad ’Aal (I have changed his true name, having little confidence in what our present “co-belligerents” might do to him if Tripolitania is returned to them after the war). For many weeks Flower lived with the tribe in comparative safety but then the Italians began to suspect his presence in the hills. The other tribesmen were frightened that unless Flower left the district ruin would overtake them all and pressed Sheikh Suleiman to turn him out. But the Sheikh, refusing to break his word with one who had eaten his bread, packed up his tents, gathered his family and his animals and for weeks carried Flower with him from hiding-place to hiding-place, moving on as the Italians’ search became more strict.
From their base in the hills Flower and his men worked their way north to Tripoli and to the airfield at Castel Benito, gathering information themselves and through Arabs whom they could trust. In Tripoli their best “contact” was Alfieri, owner of many lorries, whose transport contract with the Army gave him unlimited opportunity to learn what was passing through the port. They had many narrow escapes. X going down to Tripoli on one occasion, dressed as an Arab and with an Arab companion, was held up at a road block near Castel Benito and asked for his papers. He had none and things were looking unpleasant for him till the Arab, thrusting his own papers forward for inspection, started a lung-rending fit of coughing and the sentry, over whom he was spitting and spluttering, kicked them both with a curse along the road.
In the autumn of 1942, after an interval of nearly two years, we were operating again with the Free French in the Fezzan.
This was the third time the French had raided the Fezzan, counting as the first their participation in Clayton’s attack on Murzuk. The second was in the spring of 1942. By January of that year the Eighth Army had taken all Cyrenaica and Tripoli seemed not far off. Leclerc, always ready for a fight, had been asked to move up into the Fezzan as soon as the Eighth Army drove westwards from ’Agheila, but that drive never came and by the end of the month Msus and Mechili had fallen and the enemy were nearing Gazala.
In December, 1941, Dick Croucher had taken R2 patrol from Siwa down to Tibesti to provide a wireless link between Leclerc and Middle East; reliable communications would be vital for the operations then in prospect and only L.R.D.G. Signals could do the job. In pre-war days Croucher’s journey would have been front-page news in the journals of geography but by the end of 1941 it was merely a routine L.R.D.G. trip. Southwards he went from Siwa to Tazerbo, then to Kayugi in the foothills of Tibesti, then through the mountains (I think for the first time with cars) to the French advanced base at Zouar. With the British retreat to Gazala the need for Leclerc’s co-operation had disappeared and in February Croucher turned home. He was a good ambassador for us; the French afterwards often spoke with affection for “le bon Grouchere, type assez sérieux,” by which they did not mean “serious” but “sincere”—a quality not conspicuous in themselves which they admired in others. But Leclerc had no intention of losing the chance of a crack at the hated Italians, whatever the successes or failures of the Eighth Army might be. For weeks he had been preparing for this day, training his tirailleurs at Faya, putting his nondescript transport into shape, while the long caravans of camels plodded northwards from Fort Lamy with supplies.
In mid-February the French started northwards from Tibesti, a mixed force of motorised infantry, armoured cars, the méharistes of the Groupe Nomade Tibbu, a howitzer, some Lysanders—relics of the summer at Kufra—and a Glenn Martin bomber or two. With the Eighth Army out of the picture Leclerc’s attack could be nothing more th
an a hit and run affair, strong enough to shake up the Italians and obtain useful information of their forces, but weak enough to leave him with some reserve of transport and petrol if the British advance into Tripolitania should take place after all.
He shook up the Italians all right.
On March 1st, in a blinding sandstorm, Dio with the Groupe Nomade Borkou took Tejerri. Dio had the howitzer with him and with this and his mortars soon drove the Italians out of the fort where their commander Bracchetti, a Saharan veteran long known to us, survived a direct hit with a shell which took off his right arm. For the rest of the day the French and Italians fought it out with rifles and hand grenades among the tamarisk bushes at point blank range, till by evening the enemy had had enough and retired into the desert. Two nights later Dio, flushed with success, pushed on to Gatrun. But as we had seen a year before the duller necessities of war such as good communications were never a strong point with the French and Dio, cautiously approaching Gatrun, found that Hous with another force had taken the place by storm two days before.
Meanwhile, pursuing Leclerc’s plan of “penetration in depth with synchronised attacks,” Geoffroi with his L.R.D.G.-like patrol had gone up north of Sehba to the cross tracks near Umm el ’Abid. The first evening his ambush was successful for he captured two lorries full of bombs and petrol, but next day the Italians had their turn and Geoffroi had a taste of the medicine they had given T patrol at Gebel Sherif, the successful co-operation between their Air Force and an Auto-Saharan Company hastening down from Hon. After a running fight of twenty miles Geoffroi turned south to Wau el Kebir.
On the night of March 5th he was before the small oasis. The palm groves seemed deserted and the landing ground unused. After dark, with one goumier, he crept up to the post. Here, too, there was no sign of life and they crawled through the wire and into the fort where the whole garrison appeared asleep. At once he sent back the goumier to bring up the rest of his men, but two hundred yards from the post a tirailleur stumbled and fell, letting off his rifle. The alarm was given and Geoffroi barely escaped to rejoin his patrol.
But Wau el ‘Kebir had not seen the last of the French, de Guillebon,’Who had routed the Sciati Camel Company at Tmessa and was quite unaware of what Geoffroi had been doing, decided to make an assault on Wau el Kebir and attacked it on the 7th, two nights after Geoffroi’s unsuccessful attempt. Over him de Guillebon had the advantage for he had with him two of those very effective weapons, the 81 mm. mortars.
“Our pieces were in position to fire at 17.20 hours. Registration of the two mortars had been done before nightfall….
“At this moment the enemy had ceased fire. The screams of the wounded were heard. The order ‘Cease Firing’ was given and the ascaris were harangued by a deserter and told that fire would be opened if they did not surrender. To this harangue there was no reply : fifteen rounds per piece were fired and the speaker took up the word again; this time with success, and on the twenty times repeated statement that the French would not fire the garrison came out and surrendered.”
Ten months later preparations were again being made at Zoiar. Men and stores were arriving from Faya and Fort Lamy; Leclerc was there (now a General), with Ingold, a newcomer, in command of the force that was to advance into the Fezzan. In place of Croucher was Jim Henry with his Rhodesian patrol as the wireless link to Eighth Army.
In mid-December, 1942, Rommel withdrew from ’Agheila and Leclerc started northward from Zouar. Ten days before Christmas he occupied Wigh, a mile-wide hollow in the desert which, because of its good water, must be secured by any force which advances from the south into the Fezzan.
Leclerc had asked for fighter support for his operations, but Middle East could not spare the aircraft and his few Lysanders and Blenheims were no match for the Heinkels and C.R. 42’s. As a result, for the first ten days of their advance through that open desert they had a very unpleasant time. I take from Henry’s diary his account of December 26th :
“Travelled all night, S2 patrol still leading. Arrived in sight of Gatrun at daybreak. Two French trucks and S2 advanced towards the oasis to see what would happen. Enemy opened up field artillery and Bredas of various calibres. Rest of column came up and then moved slowly eastwards in artillery formation until we were just out of range. French 75 mm. sent a few rounds back. Column then moved eastwards to a range of hills twenty miles away, dispersed and held a council of war. The original plan was to shell Gatrun sufficiently to shake up the garrison and then by-pass it, leaving the main body to capture it. Just before lunch S2 patrol with a French patrol was sent out with the idea of doing a recce of the northern part of the oasis, just out of artillery range, and to lure out any Auto Saharan Coy and lead them into range of the French 75’s in position near the hills. We got to within a couple of miles of the oasis when we were attacked by six fighters and two bombers with M.G. fire and bombs. Desert was good going so we fought back, gradually edging off towards the hills and dodging bombs during our spare moments. Saw a column of black smoke rising several miles north of us. My gunner said it was an aircraft burning though he had not actually seen the crash. Soon afterwards ground strafing ceased but bombing continued for some time. During the fight we picked up one Frenchman and four ascaris whose truck had been put out of action. Checked up on the movements of the S2 trucks, one unaccounted for, so circled back to look for it and found it heading back to look for me. Had reached talking distance when the bomber started work on us again; kept visual contact and returned to the hills. Carter came across with information that two French trucks had been damaged and one ascari killed. A Frenchman in the patrol said he had seen the aircraft crash and since ours were the only trucks that fired Col. Ingold credited us with shooting it down and complimented us on the calm and organised way in which we had met the attack, saying that we had set an excellent example to the French troops.”
For a week more the Rhodesians were bombed and strafed daily; Jackson and du Toit were wounded and one truck wrecked by bomb splinters and others hit.
But although in the air the enemy had the upper hand, on the ground the French had it all their own way. By the end of December, with Cyrenaica in British hands and the Eighth Army pressing towards Tripoli, the Italians in the Fezzan were beginning to lose heart. If they fought on in their isolated posts there was small chance of help reaching them; sooner or later their line of retreat would be cut off, so at fort after fort—Gatrun, Umm el Araneb, Murzuk, Sebha—they surrendered or fled northwards.
The garrison at Murzuk left in good time, pouring out on foot across the desert to the north-west. (Manerini, the general of the Saharan Command had ordered them to fight to the last man before himself hurrying away from Hon!) Mahé, our friend of Kufra days, was out on an air reconnaissance that morning and spotted this forlorn column trudging through the sand. As he dived to attack his gun jammed and he thought that he had lost the target of a lifetime, but on the ground the Italians were gesticulating and waving rags of white, so Mahé threw them a note telling them to stay where they were and flew off to find some ground troops to whom they could surrender.
While Leclerc was advancing into the Fezzan from the south L.R.D.G. patrols were doing what they could to help him by harassing the enemy in the north. The most useful thing would be to destroy aircraft, so Spicer and Nangle took their patrols through Henry’s Gap and across the rough basalt country south of Hon to try to raid the airfield there. But heavy rain and bad going hindered them and when they finally got down to the outskirts of Hon they were met by heavy gunfire. And, as we saw later, their chances of getting through the thick minefields round the cantonments would have been very small indeed. But on the road leading north from Brak to Shueref Wilder, Hunter and Birdwood did more damage, laying mines and shooting up the passing convoys.
At the beginning of December the Eighth Army was before ’Agheila and ready to push Rommel out of his positions between the salt marshes and the sea. Though it was becoming clear that he did not intend to m
ake a firm stand there a frontal attack on such strong positions was bound to be costly and Montgomery’s plan was to hasten the German withdrawal by a repetition of that manoeuvre so often used by both sides in the Libyan war, the turning of the southern flank. This meant an advance through the ’Agheila-Marada gap south of Ma’aten Giofer, across country which we had first explored on the way to the Sirte desert in July of 1941, and which the patrols had afterwards got to know so well on their way to and from the road watch.
The New Zealand Division with the 4th Light Armoured Brigade was chosen for the job and Tony Browne with Ri patrol was to guide them.
By the second week in December the force had gathered at El Haseiat to which the New Zealanders had come by forced marches across the desert from Bir Hakim. Here for four days they waited, keeping a strict wireless silence, camouflaged in the thick scrub and hidden by some lucky days of low cloud. On the 13th they moved southwards, round the salt marshes at Ma’aten Barbar where the T2 men had dug in vain for fresh water on their way back to Aujila a year before, and then turned north-westwards towards the coast. Now the movement of a division, with its armoured cars, guns, lorried infantry, tanks on transporters, ambulances and R.A.S.C. companies, across trackless and badly-mapped desert is no light matter, particularly if part of the move has to be made by night. General Freyberg took no chances, and before he left El Haseiat the N.Z. Provost Company with Browne to guide them had laid out the divisional axis along which the centre of the force was to move, marking it with black triangles of tin swinging from iron stakes and with hurricane lanterns in shaded petrol tins for the night march of sixty miles which took them across the Marada road.
On the 16th the division had reached the Via Balbia west of the Marble Arch, but though their outflanking movement was successful in hastening Rommel’s withdrawal the greater part of his forces escaped westwards by taking a route near to the coast. Again with R1 patrol leading the New Zealanders moved to outflank him, swinging round south to Nofilia, but again the enemy rearguard got away.
Long Range Desert Group Page 24
