by Griff Hosker
We spent an hour going over the logistics of maintaining a squadron in the field. As far as I knew it had never been done before.
After we had seen them off I called in my senior warrant officers and my squadron leaders. I told them in plain language what we had been ordered to do. Their faces spoke volumes. “Henry, you will command here in my absence. Needless to say, I intend to take Sergeant Major Hale and Robson with us. Sorry. Swanston and Williams are also vital. As for the rest… you warrant officer can cherry pick. Believe me this will be no picnic. We need the best men we can get. You can request more men for Heliopolis. We will be more than a thousand miles away from any help. What we take is all that we will have. However, I have negotiated leave at the end of it so it is not all bad.”
“And when do we leave, sir?”
I smiled, “Tomorrow Warrant Officer Hale, tomorrow!”
I sat with Hale and Captain Connor going through the lists of men. We had to choose carefully. We would not need a doctor. The King’s African Rifles had their own. We would not need a Quarter Master that too would come from the Rifles. In the end the men almost picked themselves. In the time we had been in Egypt we had seen which men were adaptable and which ones were still trying to do things the same way as they had in France.
The Vernons would transport the men to Suez and then return for the tents and equipment we would need. We would be under canvas. Major Buchan assured us that there was a large flat area close to Suez where we could land our aeroplanes. We would have to taxi the DH 9as and Dolphin to the port but that was only eight hundred yards. It would take all day for us to load the aeroplanes on to the deck of the Ark Royal and we would leave the following day. That night as I fell exhausted into my cot, I reflected that this would be another Christmas spent away from my family. The way things were going the baby would be born just as we were beginning operations against the Mullah. I wondered if my career choice had been a wise one.
After breakfast, the DH 9as and I took off. We would land first. If there were any problems then we would be able to radio back to Heliopolis. Our goodbyes were perfunctory. Most of us had come through a war where you had not had the luxury of a goodbye. Chaps you knew went out with you in the morning and did not come back. We had brief handshakes and nods which spoke volumes. When you had faced death with brothers in arms then you were bonded for life. We might see each other at future postings or even at the Army and Navy Club but there would be no letters or holiday promises to look one another up. A pilot believed in fate. If we were to meet again then we would. It was as simple as that.
Suez was heavily guarded. The Egyptians might want the British gone but we would never allow the Egyptians to control the Suez Canal. That was our link with India, Australia and New Zealand. It was our umbilical cord the children of the Empire. I landed first. Major Buchan had arranged for a Petty Officer from the Ark Royal and some ratings to mark the place we were to land and to have smoke for us to see the wind direction. I landed. It was bumpy but I had endured worse.
A rating ran up to me and clambered on to the wing. He clung to the struts. “Able Seaman Ireland, sir. I’ll direct you.”
“Are you comfortable there?”
The young rating grinned, “Oh aye sir!”
The Petty Officer must have worked out a flat route for it was not straight. It was however, problem free. I saw, in my mirror, Jack and his boys as they followed me. It would take some time to land the Vernons. As we approached the crane lined dock I saw the Ford lorries as they headed towards the field. This was a huge enterprise.
The rating waved to attract my attention as we neared the carrier. “Sir, just pull up close to the crane at the end. The captain wants you loaded from there.” I nodded. When we reached the two ratings who waved their arms to stop us I turned off the engine. Able Seaman Ireland leapt off the wing. “Well that is as close to flying as I have got, sir. Thanks!”
“Thank you.” He suddenly snapped to attention and I saw an officer walking towards me.
“Lieutenant Commander Wilson, Wing Commander. I am the Number One. If you would like to follow me I’ll take you to the captain.”
“If you don’t mind Lieutenant Commander I would like to see how your boys load the Dolphin.”
“Of course, sir, but these are very experienced men. They are used to loading aeroplanes.”
Behind me I heard the noise of the DH 9as wheels on the rocks as they arrived. There would be little point in them running their engines. There were enough ratings to push them to the crane. To be fair to the Lieutenant Commander and his men they were efficient. They fitted canvas slings under the engine and fuselage. A Petty Officer checked that there were no problems and then the crane lifted the aeroplane. Mine would be the easiest for it was almost a thousand pounds lighter than the DH 9as. Once it was on board I turned and smiled, “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. We are a little precious about our babies.”
“I understand. We are going to be a little crowded, I am afraid. We normally only carry eight seaplanes.”
“How long will it take to steam to Berbera?”
“About a week. It is fifteen hundred miles. We are not a fast ship. Eleven knots is all that we can manage.” He smiled. “We will be there before Christmas.”
“Last Christmas I had snow. I was in the Baltic.”
“So were we! Were you the chap on the Vindictive?”
“Yes, I was.”
“You missed those chaps in the torpedo boats. Sank a few battleships. They managed to get themselves a V.C. and D.S.O.s. They lost some boats and some men too but they disabled the Bolshie Fleet.”
“I met them. Brave chaps.”
We had reached the main deck, “From your medals Wing Commander, so are you. I will take you to the captain.”
Captain Mainwaring had a neatly trimmed beard. The grey flecks told me that he was getting towards the end of his career. He shook hands, “Delighted to meet you. Rear Admiral Cowans and Peter Parr spoke highly of you. You are almost a sailor!” He turned to the Lieutenant Commander, “That will be all Number One. Carry on.”
“Sir.”
“Take a seat.” I sank into a leather armchair and when I saw Captain Mainwaring reach for his pipe I did so too. It was his cabin and there were niceties to be observed. “Rum do this.” I was drawing on the pipe and so I nodded. “We are going to stay on station in Berbera. Between the two of us I think that is in case this goes wrong and you have to be pulled out.”
“I agree sir. In theory, this should be no problem but I have seen maps of the terrain and it looks ghastly. If any of my chaps come down I am guessing that their buses will be a right off and they may well be lost.”
“Quite. Your mechanics are more than welcome to use our facilities but you will be on the airfield.”
“The airfield which is not yet built. Yes sir.”
“It is Dennis and you are Bill, I believe.”
“It is. One thing in our favour is that I doubt that neither this Sayyid Mohammed Abdullah Hassan nor his men will ever have seen an aeroplane before. We should have the element of surprise. From what I have read he has managed to defeat our forces by using the terrain and his ferocious Dervishes.”
“They have a reputation. I spoke with some of the captains who sail this coast and they steer clear of Somaliland. They are fanatics. Not only that they are pirates. Luckily, we have quick firing twelve pounders and machine guns. If they come close to us then we shall sink the blighters.” He laid his pipe in the ashtray. “This will be my last commission. I retire next year. I shall finally get to spend time with my wife. Who knows I may even see my grandchildren before they are grown up. Do you have children, Bill?”
“I have a son I have barely seen. My wife is expecting our second sometime in the next month.”
“We are both in the same boat then,” he chuckled, “quite literally. We have sacrificed our families for the service of our country.”
“So it would appear but I intend to hav
e my family with me when I can.”
“But not here.”
“No, Dennis, not here.”
It took all day to load the aeroplanes. The equipment and the men took almost as long. The result was that we did not leave until late in the evening. The twinkling lights of Suez were left far behind as we headed into the blackness of the Red Sea. Our packed ship was a microcosm of Britain and we were cosily packed within her metal walls. The freighter which accompanied us with our vehicles was so small that there were lorries parked on her deck.
The captain and crew made us feel welcome but we were overcrowded. Ted and Jack spent most of the time with me as we pored over maps and intelligence reports. They were vague. We identified six forts which Sayyid Mohammed Abdullah Hassan used. Although the actual location was a little vague. No one had effectively mapped the area. With few towns and fewer roads it was a nightmare. Our plan was relatively simple. We would begin with the fort closest to us and reduce that one. The King’s African Rifles and the Camel Corps could occupy that one and we would move to the next one. I would be able to assist in the attacks on all of them except for Taleh. That would be beyond my range. We had decided to fit the radio in Jack’s Nanak. His sergeant was the most senior.
“What do we do if one of our kites crash lands?”
“That, I am afraid, is a difficult one.”
Ted pointed at the map with his cheroot. “They are giving us a couple of motorcycles. They can handle rough terrain. We need to make sure every aeroplane has an emergency kit.” He used his fingers as he listed what they would need. “Water, matches, blankets, something for shelter, knife and pistol.”
“Ted’s right. Let us hope that it does not come to this but if it does then they will have to sit tight and rely on someone reporting their position. If they sit tight then the motor bikes might get to them and the Crossley Light Lorry.”
It was by no means a perfect solution but it would have to suffice. Egypt seemed as a picnic compared with the prospect which faced us. Ted was the only one who had the remotest idea of what we would be facing. Palestine, Transjordan and Arabia were similar environments.
“You have to remember that as hot as it is in the day it can be equally cold at night. That will be especially true in the highlands of Somaliland. They will need to learn how to make fire. We should give them lessons on conserving water. They can go for quite a few days without food but not water.”
Each day took us further south and closer to the equator. Each day began hot and grew hotter. We knew that we were cooler on the water than we would be when we built our airfield. Sergeant Major Robson and I took a daily stroll with Jack to inspect the Nanaks. They were securely tethered to the deck and covered with canvas but we had to make sure that they reached Berbera in one piece.
The captain made us welcome and Jack, Ted and I shared his table each night. The mess was crowded. It was intended for a maximum of twenty officers. We doubled that. I was used to the quirks of the navy for I had been aboard the Vindictive but the others had a lot to learn about the customs and habits. The officers were introduced to Pink Gins and rum. They were bemused by the crew when they were summoned to ‘Up Spirits!’ We even celebrated Christmas on board the carrier. It was our second night aboard. The crew made it festive and we all enjoyed ourselves but I was sad inside. Beattie and Tom would either be with Alice or my family in Burscough. There would be presents and Christmas dinner. I was on a ship amongst strangers. It was not the same.
One evening, as the sun began to set over the land I stood with Ted on the flight deck. The land had changed little as we had headed south. The next day would see us reach Berbera. I pointed with my pipe. “Apart from the occasional fishing boat I have seen little sign of life hereabouts.”
“I know. We are used to Britain where there are thousands of people in our big cities and even our towns are so busy that it is impossible to find an empty street. Here a big town might have just three hundred people and most of the places have just a few dozen families. A lot of the people are nomadic. They follow the little grazing there is.”
I shook my head, “Which begs the question why are we hanging on to it?”
“I asked myself the same question in Mesopotamia. I think it is in the nature of Empire builders. The Victorians wanted an Empire because they thought we could civilize the world. We haven’t done a bad job. Certainly, we were preferable to the Turks. Occasionally you get someone like Sayyid Mohammed Abdullah Hassan. He is a warlord and he wants to rule his own part of the world. We are doing what we used to do at sea, we are the world’s policeman although I am not certain that we will continue to be viewed that way in the future. The Great War changed the way the world thought. If we look back then before August 1914 was a different world. The jinni is out of the bottle. I have a feeling that we will have to adapt.”
“You are a philosopher, Ted.”
He used his stump to point to his eye. “When I suffered this, I had to revaluate my life and when I did that I looked at the world too. I had time to think while I recovered.”
He was right. Lumpy had said the same. What had been important was no longer seen that way. “Well tomorrow our little war begins. I fear that you will have more onerous duties. As Chief of Staff you will have to deal with the Rifles and the Camel Corps.”
“That is fine. I enjoy hard work.”
Berbera was tiny. I counted but forty huts and the most imposing building was a brick and stone built building by the docks. It was flying a Union Flag. That would be the British resident. We were lucky that the carrier had a crane used for recovering seaplanes as the port had nothing big enough to handle the Nanaks. We would have to use the six trailers to haul the aeroplanes to the site of the airfield. We had heard, on the radio, that the King’s African Rifles were there already. We would have to do the work of making it an airfield but we had protection. I had a feeling we might need it.
The British resident was a nutmeg brown gentleman who looked to be as old as my dad. He was small and neat and he coughed a great deal. He was a gentleman and always used a handkerchief. Reginald St. John-Browne was a throwback to the nineteenth century when young Civil Service clerks had left England for warmer climes and never returned. He was a small precisely dressed man. Only his solar helmet looked too large for him and he had the thin look of someone who is close to the end of their life. He was, however, delighted to see us. He positively beamed.
“Wing Commander Harsker, this is a real pleasure! I hear you have come to rid us of these troublesome bandits! They have plagued these people for years.”
“We will do our best, sir.”
My officers all descended from the carrier to await orders and the poor man took one look at the numbers and said, “Oh dear, I had planned on inviting your officers for dinner at the residence but I fear there are too many of you.”
“We will be busy for a while anyway, sir. We have an airfield to build.”
He shook his head, “We must make a date! It would be rude not to have you and your senior officers to dine with me. Let us say, next Saturday evening. How does that suit?”
It would have been churlish to refuse. “That will be perfect, sir. Shall we say seven o’clock? There may be five of us. My two companions and the two commanders of our ground troops.”
“Excellent! Excellent! The people here are charming but one does miss civilized company eh? I am desperate to hear news from the outside world.”
“Quite, sir.”
“And I have heard of you, Wing Commander.”
“Really sir?”
“Yes. During the war I became fascinated by the exploits of the Flying Corps. I took cuttings about all the aces: Bishop, McCudden, Ball. All of them but especially you. I liked the story of an air gunner who became an ace. And, of course, you survived.”
“I am flattered, sir.”
“Well now you can see why I am so keen to dine with you and hear your stories.”
“Of course. And now, sir,
we must see to the unloading of the vehicles and our aeroplanes. We have much to do.”
“Quite so. Don’t let me stop you. I have a dinner to organize!”
The freighter had unloaded the Ford lorries first. As they were doing that the Nanaks were slowly landed. My Dolphin had been the first on and would be the last off. I did not mind. By the time five of the DH 9as had been unloaded there were three lorries and trailers ready. We loaded three of the aeroplanes and Ted and Sergeant Major Robson went with them. We had directions to the airfield. I was not put out by the fact that the King’s African Rifles were not there to greet us. They could not have known of our precise arrival time. I was more concerned that we had a defensible airfield.
Once the lorries and the trailers had all been landed we began to offload the other vehicles and supplies. The three lorries and trailers returned as the next three DH 9as were loaded. I had decided to wait until my bus was landed before I left. Jack went with the trailers. Sergeant Major Hale, Aircraftman Williams and Corporal Swanston took one of the Crossley light trucks and our baggage and tents. It was late afternoon when my Dolphin was offloaded. By then there was just one DH 9a waiting to be transported. The rest of the vehicles had gone.
Captain Mainwaring came down the gangplank to see me off. “We shall be here, Bill. If you need anything then let us know.”
“We are invited to dinner with the resident on Saturday. I shall be here then, in any case.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
I rode in the cab with the driver. “What is the field like, Ganner?”
“A bit rough, sir, but it is flat and the squaddies have managed to get most of the bigger rocks out of the way. I think Sergeant Major Robson was less than happy, sir. He has a bunch of lads clearing it to his satisfaction.”
“And tents?”
“Captain Connor has them being erected now, sir.”
I wondered how we were going to get on with the two units of ground troops. They were not British regulars. I had no doubt that they would be good at their jobs but they were an unknown.
