by Sadler, John
One of the more colourful characters in the Allied order of battle was Vladimir Peniakoff. ‘Popski’, as he was nicknamed, was an émigré who had fought for the French in the previous war and then worked in Egypt as a civilian. He managed to secure a British commission and began his clandestine career by stirring up anti-Italian sentiment amongst Libyan Arabs. Teaming up with LRDG he graduated to demolition and with some success: one of his raids destroyed 100,000 gallons of enemy fuel. However, none of these ad hoc Special Forces units was more remarkable or unlikely that the Special Interrogation Group, a highly unorthodox crew, drawn mainly from German-speaking Jews recruited in Palestine.15
Patrol Life
When the dawn comes, and the stars have all gone away, there is something sharp and exhilarating about the smell in the air. It is fresh and clean and tantalisingly different to the atmosphere which will pervade the day once the sun has come up over the distant horizon. Then there will be no escape from its merciless and desiccating heat, which drains you of energy and leaves you burned and incapable of any prolonged activity.16
Members of LRDG would never have won any commendations for spit and polish; most had joined to escape just such subservience to ‘bull’. On a patrol, the men might go without washing or shaving for days, burnt by the relentless, omnipresent sun, scoured by harsh corrosive winds, coated in cloying layers of dust thrown up by the vehicles. Patrols were a team effort; officers, NCOs and men were all equally important cogs in a very small and tight machine. Each depended on the other; informality was a badge of efficiency, not slackness. David Lloyd Owen came close to the dreaded RTU on his first patrol: Guy [Prendergast] was never the sort of person to beat about the bush and he made it quite clear that Eric [Wilson] had not reported very favourably of me.17 Happily, Guy Prendergast took a longer view!
Very few Allied units can have featured a more eclectic and mongrel military attire. Obviously, patrols were drawn from several continents and brought their own kit with them. Some of this was vintage Great War issue. Headgear was varied in the extreme, from colonial style pith helmets to the distinctive Arab keffiyeh, held in place by the traditional band or agal. This gave wearers a suitably Beau Geste look, was ideal for protection against dust but rather less suited to the range of mundane tasks which made up a large portion of the desert raider’s daily life, such as kit and vehicle maintenance – chores which had not affected the Bedouin! Woollen cap comforters and, latterly, black RTR berets became more commonplace.18
Conditions in the desert varied radically from day to night, from stifling, almost crushing heat to stark, penetrating cold. Standard battledress with heavy serge greatcoats alternated with KD shirts and shorts with personal gear carried in ’37 Pattern canvas webbing. Peculiar to the desert was the kapok-lined Tropal coat. This was a very heavy and stiff item of kit that was unsuitable when moving but very warm for static or sentry work. Leather sandals or Chaplis – much easier for moving over soft sand – often replaced standard infantry boots.19 The South Africans had introduced a lightweight durable form of footwear, descended from their Voortrekker ancestors’ design, the ‘desert boot’ – eventually and enduringly turned into a fashion item by shoemakers Clark.
Life for the desert raider was very far from representations depicted in action movies or the boys-own style of graphic comics, beloved of this author’s generation. It was gruelling, unceasing, uncomfortable, monotonous, frequently unhealthy and occasionally very dangerous. Hitler’s infamous Kommandobefehl wasn’t issued until October 1942, and LRDG units in the desert, unlike some which came later, were not affected. LRDG was fortunate that throughout the war, even in the Aegean and Adriatic sectors, whilst captured patrolmen were sometimes threatened with summary execution, none was ever actually shot. LRDG personnel were also notoriously proficient escapers! The main risks in Libya were from air attack and bumping into enemy ground forces.
To add to the normal discomforts, sandstorms could blow up, seemingly from nowhere and blot out the world in a frenzied, abrasive shroud. A hot, enervating qibli whispered distractingly from the deep, empty expanses of the desert, sapping energy, draining the will to continue. Libya also hosted any amount of local wildlife that was apt to do you harm, a whole cornucopia of insect varieties, harbingers of many ills, plus poisonous snakes and scorpions that made unwelcome and very dangerous bedfellows. Desert oases or Bedouin encampments were havens for innumerable and voracious plagues of flies. Desert sores and the spectre of cafard lurked in the shadows.
Patrols had to be largely self-sufficient and every item of equipment, every drop of fuel and water, was measured. As the vehicles moved out, a lighter command car probed ahead, choosing routes and keeping a trained eye open for unwelcome visitors. Flags were used for communicating changes of plan or alterations to route. Trucks would always attempt to remain within eyesight of each other. Behind the command vehicle came the radio truck (which couldn’t operate its wireless on the move), then the rest of the patrol in three troops, each having a trio of trucks, travelling in as wide dispersion as the ground would permit. As a rule, the heavily laden mechanic’s or fitter’s vehicle drove with the rear troop, ready to attend on stragglers or breakdowns. It was the 2 I/C’s job to act as rear-end Charlie.
Somebody was always on the lookout for prowling Axis planes. Patrols threw out great plumes and swathes of dust, unavoidable and horribly visible. It was often possible for the LRDG to simply brazen it out, masquerading as ‘friendlies’ when the unfriendly were overhead. If enemy aircraft were sighted, the alarm was raised by sounding trucks’ horns and then the patrol would halt, scattering the vehicles over a wide area, at least 100 yards between each.
Clever dispersal using natural cover, augmented with camouflage, would often do the trick. If the hunters proved persistent and aggressive, the patrol would disperse at speed. Only one truck could be strafed at any one time and the driver would ‘jink’ and swerve to confuse the fighter’s aim; speeding off after a lightning turn at ninety degrees to the angle of the attacker’s run. Over hard going the vehicles could crack along at a fair rate, perhaps as fast as 50 mph, a very tricky target.20
Such adrenalin pumping moments were mercifully rare. The trooper’s day started early, before first light, as the cook toiled over an open fire to get a brew and breakfast on. Though LRDG generally fared better than their regular army comrades, water was strictly rationed to six pints per man per day. The first of these was served as a mug of hot tea, Tommy’s universal benison. He might also begin his day with porridge, bacon fried from the tin, or biscuits with marge or jam. Working off excess calories was never likely to be a problem.
There was nothing to be gained by moving off before the sun had climbed to at least 20 degrees above the horizon, sufficient to activate a sun-compass. Everyone packed stores and kit; vehicles, gear and weapons had to be checked. Guns, constantly getting fouled by blown sand, would have been stripped and cleaned the night before; a blockage could easily become a death sentence. This was the time for the W/O to radio HQ, for the commander to brief all troopers on the intended day’s travel, plus RV’s in case of dispersal. On sensitive ground or near the coastal littoral, all traces of the overnight camp would be systematically eliminated. Attention to detail was the measure of survival.21
As the sun climbed, heat building to a furnace filling the noon sky, a halt was called. Navigation using the sun compass and driving generally became near impossible. The blinding white glare flattened the ground, hiding a multitude of evils. Men lolled beneath the shelter of their trucks, metal so hot it must surely melt. A cold, sparse meal of cheese and biscuits, another precious pint of warm water, barely enough to replace sweat; the signaller would be busy with his midday call. Heat was everywhere, a molten universe; colour drowned out by the harsh, unyielding, unwavering light, no dark, no contrast, no shadow. As the afternoon began to wane, heat moving from unbearable to just manageable, the patrol would move off, towards, as Wilfred Owen would have said, their distant
rest.
As dusk approached, a suitable camping ground had to be identified. This needed easy concealment and all round defence with good fields of fire. Like a cowboy’s wagon train, the vehicles laagered around the hub of the comms truck; circled and parked for a fast getaway should any inconsiderate foe appear to disrupt a night’s well-earned rest. Though the patrol carried its daily sustenance onboard the vehicles, rations might be supplemented by fresh game. Gazelle were sighted from time to time and a decent shot could boost the pot. The trick was not to panic the animals into flight.
The trooper’s working day was far from over. As cavalry looked after their mounts, so the LRDG cosseted their vehicles. The ground was murderously hard on the trucks. Jerry-cans (so called as these were a pre-war German steel design that held 4.4 gallons or 20 litres of fuel), were used for re-fuelling, oil and hydraulics checked, tyre pressures checked and, if necessary, adjusted. Stores were counted, loads sorted. There was no scope for waste or sloppiness.
The ubiquitous jerry-can was a gift from Rommel, far superior in robustness and design to the two-gallon British tin. The design made the container easier to lift and to store. A fit man could carry one in each hand in the open, and while heavy when full, it was easy enough to fill up from. LRDG trooper Jim Patch recalled that transferring fuel from two gallon British to the larger German jerry-can in an enclosed space got everybody high on fumes. American-type cans, copied from the Axis model, were found to be much inferior in design. Finally, Britain did start producing her own, exact copies and these were very successful, though they didn’t begin to arrive in theatre, some two million of them, till early 1943.22
Time for an evening brew, over an open fire built with used packing cases, a primus or improvised stove; the evening meal was served hot and the daily tot of grog was given out. This was the social highlight and could be swilled neat or diluted in tea to suit. The Rhodesians created a cocktail variant, mixing the raw spirit with Rose’s Lime Juice, the ‘sundowner’ or ‘anti-qibli pick-me-up.
Men bedded down in improvised pits, shoveled from soft sand, nastily reminiscent of shallow graves. Those on sentry duty stayed awake as would the W/O and navigator. He had to finish up his dead reckoning, which was checked by an understudy. He’d then use his theodolite for an astrofix, again checked by his junior, so an exact location for the camp could be determined and agreed. Only with this level of scrupulous care could the LRDG hope to function. Bill Kennedy Shaw relates how the theodolite was used: Before the war I had spent many desert nights sitting for hours cramped on an empty petrol tin before the car’s headlights, working out the elaborate formula which ended, if all went well, in a latitude and longitude.
What made life easier by 1940 had been prompted by advances in the science of aviation. Obviously, in a moving plane, a lengthy calculation is pretty hopeless as the plane has already moved on a considerable distance. Pilots had then come to rely on books of tables which drastically cut back on the time needed to work out a ‘fix’. This also greatly eased the burden on LRDG navigators.23
On the Trail of the Fox
The Desert Fox had arrived. Irwin Rommel proved to be a very different class of opponent to his Italian predecessors. Nominally subordinate to them, he pursued an aggressive war under his own direction. LRDG was, as the Murzuk Raid unfolded, undergoing yet another phase of re-organisation. ‘S’ Patrol, the new South Rhodesian detachment, went live on 31st January. Despite the name, not all recruits were Rhodesian; some were Scots and others Northumbrian. Happily General Freyberg agreed to his Kiwis (T & R Patrols) staying with LRDG.
On 23rd February the Yeomanry Patrol was formed, most of the recruits drawn from 1st Cavalry Division then in Palestine. Not all proved to be of the right sort, some far from it, and the patrol’s official ‘start’ date was put back by a couple of weeks.24 The failure to blast the Italians out of the stone-walled Murzuk fort had clearly demonstrated the need for a heavier ‘punch’ and so a small artillery sub-unit was formed to beef up LRDG’s potential firepower.
Ralph Bagnold gained his lieutenant colonelcy with a full group HQ and two squadrons. Teddy Mitford led ‘A’ Squadron: G (Guards), S (Rhodesian), & Y (Yeomanry) patrols; while ‘B’ Squadron would be comprised of both Kiwi patrols.25 The unit was also to move to a new base. British successes against the fleeing Italians meant that Cairo was now too far to the east. So far west had the Allies advanced that El Agheila began to seem attractive. Rommel’s arrival in Tripoli and a more active German presence led to a second think and Kufra came up as clear favourite.
On 9th March, Bagnold with the Rhodesians took a close look at Kufra and its surrounding outposts. His brief was to establish contact with the Free French and to provide acclimatisation for officers and men. The overall tactical situation was complex in that the several oases around were not garrisoned, they were controlled by native populations who, while not a threat, were not necessarily any form of asset. Kufra is sacred to the Senussi and the Italians had wrested it from them in 1931, since when they’d constructed a fort at Et Tag. The oasis is around forty miles in length, less than half that in width, nestling in a bowl of shallow hills. There are four separate lakes lying in the bowl with the settlement of El Tag built on its northern rim, a dun coloured riot of earth brick buildings, seemingly as old as time.
From the high wireless masts in the Italian fort at Et Tag, built over the ruins of the Senussi ‘zawiya’ [religious centre], you could see the whole oasis – thousands of date palms, thinly scattered on the upper slopes and thicker around the salt marches; the mosque and market places at El Giof; the two sapphire-blue lakes as salt as the Dead Sea, though you could dig a well of sweet water five yards from the margin; tiny patches of cultivation, laboriously irrigated by donkey-hauled leather buckets from shallow wells.26
The French at Kufra were mainly colonial troops without any heavy weapons. There was a viable airstrip at Tazerbo and this had to be secured, a task for the Rhodesians, who like the Kiwis were learning on the job. By 9th April LRDG had occupied the oasis and aerodrome.27 Kennedy Shaw describes Kufra as ‘the secret of the Sahara’, even with its ancient romance stripped bare by Italian conquerors. Before then, the great Senussi warlord Mohammed el Mahdi es Senussi had brought his people to the pinnacle of their local power.
By early April, Rommel was on the move, displaying levels of aggression and energy far greater than ever evidenced by the Italians. Very soon the Allies were on their back-foot. LRDG, less G & Y Patrols, was to concentrate at Kufra. Bagnold was given overall charge of Allied forces in the Kufra sector, under the direct orders of the C-in-C himself. The local free French forces were effectively under his control. As a caveat, no additional air or ground support was available.28 On 9th April, LRDG, in four columns, set off for distant Kufra, the heavier transport, much burdened, made hard work of the desert travel and didn’t reach the oasis till the 25th (see below). Patrols, stationed at the outlying settlements, formed a mobile perimeter defence while the Free French held the ring closer to Kufra.
Kufra itself is guarded, in strategic terms, by the Zighen gap. This meant that both Tazerbo and Bir Harash needed garrisoning. Life in these outposts of a remote garrison was not altogether congenial: Life in Tazerbo was not pleasant. The thermometer climbed steadily towards 120 degrees in the shade. From dawn to dusk the flies were beyond belief; every afternoon it blew a sandstorm. Scorpions and snakes added to the hazards of existence. The story of the Sand Viper, Libya’s deadliest snake, found gargling in its hole after biting a South Islander, is encouraged in Auckland but rejected by reliable authority in Christchurch!29
Since hostilities began, civilian life had been disrupted and the oases’ trade had declined. The overall population didn’t exceed six thousand but civil administration had also withered. LRDG’s setting up acted as a tonic for the local economy which began to revive as British political officers got the wheels of civic life moving again.30 Keeping the garrison fed and fuelled became the responsibility of
Sudan Command.
For a while fuel shortages became quite critical until the regular convoy route was established. The RAF was extremely stretched in the spring of 1941 and LRDG struggled to win any measure of cooperation. It was at this point Bagnold effectively solved the problem by privately acquiring the two WACO planes that were to form LRDG’s diminutive private air force (see Appendix 1). Grudgingly, the RAF did relent and a modest squadron of Gladiators and Lysanders was made available. Happily, the enemy showed little inclination to be overly active through late spring and into summer.
Throughout the history of warfare those who maintain the sinews have often been overlooked. Driving convoys of unwieldy 10-tonners loaded to the gunnels, vehicles totally unsuited for desert travel at the best of times, was no mean feat. Dick Croucher who had departed from Cairo at the same time as Bagnold and the rest, should have arrived with his vital supplies shortly afterwards. He didn’t. After three days Bill Kennedy Shaw flew in one of the Lysanders to find him.
This was not club class: We took off at dawn in one of the decrepit Lysanders, Mahe piloting and I in the back separated from him by the long-range petrol tank and squatting on a green enamel bath plundered from the Italian officers’ quarters in the fort. The plane’s internal comms weren’t working so the French-speaking pilot was steered by Kennedy Shaw as navigator with a ribbon around each arm which he jinked appropriately to indicate changes of direction!31
Locating the lost party, a needle in the proverbial haystack, proved both arduous and perilous. Happily, they were eventually found, almost literally down to their last pint of water. Kufra is 650 miles from Wadi Halfa and resupply remained a constant headache. When Guy Prendergast began flying the two WACOs, the RAF was not at all pleased, very sticky in fact. The Air Force was inevitably hostile to the notion of private enterprise and wasn’t at the outset even prepared to allow the LRDG to paint roundels on their aircraft, an invitation to suicide in the skies.
