Walsh says, ‘Lofty’s quite a brave bloke; don’t know why he didn’t get more than an MID, the system I suppose.’
Scholey more or less agrees. ‘You don’t expect to get medals just for doing the job you’re paid for, but it’s nice when they come, in spite of different commanders having different ideas of what makes a brave deed.’
Large says, ‘I’d have done it free of charge, I enjoyed it; anyone would have done the same if they’d had my luck.’
Millikin says nothing because he died young as he knew he would, in a car crash near Hereford.
That, then, was a typical patrol; typical not least in being different from every other and thereby fully extending the initiative as well as the skill of the SAS for which its members had been recruited and trained, and warranting such a force in the Army’s order of battle. There were other engagements and all patrols continued unflagging to amass the information that would permit effective infantry ‘Claret’ operations. The enemy kept quiet about his reverses and General Lea was encouraged to increase the pressure.
The end of ‘D’ Squadron’s tour thus also ended the phase in which the SAS had the cross-border field to themselves. How had they done? ‘Pretty small beer’, says Farrar-Hockley referring to the strikes, unarguably in terms of scale, and his is the objective view from the top. But so is Moerdani’s, and he said that Large’s exploit hurt much more than the loss of just one launch because the main Indonesian supply line suddenly became insecure and in need of urgent, widespread and unwelcome troop redeployment to guard it. Such can be the effects of pinpricks if stuck in the right places; and it would be surprising if those inflicted by the SAS did not combine with the defensive efforts of all the British security forces to deter the enemy’s aggression, for it is a fact that Mongkus was the enemy’s last major incursion into the First Division in 1965. The SAS sought to do no more than play their part anyway, having no illusions that they could win wars on their own.
CHAPTER 11
‘GET BACK IN!’
‘A’ Squadron’s Fourth Tour, May to September 1965
‘A’ Squadron returned to Borneo for a tour from which de la Billière, the Squadron commander, could be trusted to extract the last drop of interest. In Indonesia none dare oppose the communists while Soekarno had struck up a warm and ominous relationship with China. Plenty of Indonesian troops were available in Borneo and the Mongkus attempt was but a fortnight old.
The danger was compounded by Malaysia beginning to split at the seams and it was her viability which was at issue. The great gamble depended on whether Malays and Chinese could live peacefully together without the British, and stress built up to the point where Lee Kwan Yew felt it necessary to state that Singapore would not secede which, because it was said at all, was startling. In Sabah and Sarawak racial rivalry included the indigenous peoples, not all of whom lived primitively in the jungle, and the mainly Chinese communists posed a sinister and powerful threat. Altogether, Indonesia could not but be greatly encouraged.
General Lea on the other hand was remarkably unmoved. He regarded the local politicians with whom he consorted as ‘the chummiest chaps in the world, but …’; though whatever his reservations he bore them with composure. The British still ran the Borneo territories in all essentials as colonies, to the locals’ heartfelt relief so long as the threat lasted, and after 300 years of empire they were really very good. United by common class, language, and an upbringing which imbued dedication to the welfare of subject peoples, the ‘old boy net’ of administrators, policemen, merchants, planters, bankers, lawyers or soldiers need waste no time on preliminaries but went straight to the heart of a problem and decided a course of action. Air Chief Marshal Sir John Grandy, who had relieved Admiral Begg as commander-in-chief at Singapore, was very much on the net and Lea worked in close harmony with him.
The Sarawak Commissioner of Police, Roy Henry, was another such stalwart; happily since the twin threats of invasion and revolution had to be countered mainly by the Army and Police respectively and, the tasks overlapping, collaboration uninhibited by demarcation lines or jealous restrictive practices was vital. Henry’s policy with the clandestine communists was to keep watchful tabs on them through his Special Branch, but not to clamp down unless they began active operations for fear of driving them further underground and losing touch. In some cases, however, facts came to light which could be tackled at once; such as at Lundu where the Army might help the Police by obstructing the flow of revolutionaries from across the border. Pooled evidence from both forces now revealed that the elusive camp at Batu Hitam was not an army garrison but a CCO staging-post, sited expressly so as not to be found and presenting a challenge to, obviously, the SAS.
Lea had every reason to keep the Indonesian Army and CCO well apart and authorized two infantry ‘Claret’ operations in late May and early June in which 32 enemy soldiers were killed without loss, then paused to observe the effects. The SAS were not involved except as providers of information.
‘A’ Squadron operated exclusively from the First Division where the threat and the prospect of action were greatest; though it should be remembered that even there they were not the only SAS unit and that other teams operated along the entire frontier.
de la Billière had no other officers, an unthinkable shortcoming elsewhere in the Army but it scarcely mattered to him and not at all to the Troop Sergeants. Three, however, were in the pipeline, de la Billière had acquired them at Selection time with characteristic forcefulness, first by picking out the most promising candidates for their character and intelligence (if they could not get over the hills they would fail anyway) and telling them, ‘You want to join “A” Squadron, don’t you?’ which, put like that, seemed a good idea though they had not considered it before. Then he went to work on the Commanding Officer with wearing insistence to give him these ardent volunteers. Mike Wilkes, Malcolm MacGillivray and John Foley were finishing their jungle training and would join their Troops, 1, 2 and 3 respectively, in July.
4 Troop was still commanded by Sergeant Maurice Tudor who was first across, to Segoemen in the south, and had a most unhappy time. He and his patrol were set down on the wrong landing-point without knowing it, and unwittingly passing through friendly troop positions were shelled by their own side’s artillery. They pressed on nevertheless and brought back much useful information.
The Squadron Sergeant-Major, Lawrence Smith, doubled as second in command and trebled as operations officer, there being nobody else; but in spite of all those duties he was told, asked, or decided (his ‘rapport’ with his Squadron commander sometimes making it hard to determine precisely how decisions originated) to lead the first patrol to that high priority objective Batu Hitam. He took Corporal Bill Condie’s team, which included Steve Callan (not and no relation to the unsavoury individual who achieved notoriety in Angola and was never in the SAS) and George ‘Geordie’ Shipley, who will now assume responsibility for representing ‘A’ Squadron as Large and Co. have done for ‘D’, Seniority and experience came no nearer to solving the mystery, however; a local spoke willingly of life in the area, how an unwelcome Indonesian patrol came once a fortnight and demanded to be fed free, but there was positively no camp and that rang true.
After four days the radio broke down, so they had to climb to the border landing-point at the summit of a 5,000-foot peak in the Pueh Range where they shivered uncontrollably in their sweat-soaked clothes. But seeing their helicopter also toiling upwards, they keenly anticipated the hot showers and other delights of Kuching. The aircraft settled delicately like a dragonfly on the tiny plateau with its slender tail extending into limitless space; but instead of the doorway being clear for them to step inside, it was filled by no less a personage than de la Billière, to their distinct unease when he handed out a new radio and a pack of rations. He indicated the great green yonder to the westward with an imperious gesture, reminiscent of an old-time general from his horse, and commanded:
‘Get back in
.’
Rapport or no, Smith was open-mouthed and speechless, at least until the aircraft had lifted a few feet, tipped itself over the edge and slid gracefully down the mountainside leaving him with explosive thoughts that fought against loyalty to produce an incoherent muttering, which in after years he articulated as:
‘It rather saddened us.’
A suspicion remains, however, that they were also just a little gratified at having an officer who was such an arch-fiend that he could get away with that sort of thing. They set off with a fierce determination to find the unmentionable camp.
But this was Batu Hitam and not to be found. ‘It just wasn’t there, it couldn’t have been’, grumbled Smith after a further week during which they found much else; including, it pained them to report, a previous SAS patrol’s basha-site clearly identified by two ration tins. Then they climbed back to their mountain-top as disconsolate as they had left it, except that this time they would surely be allowed out. The helicopter indeed came and without a passenger, but so did a low cloud. The pilot homed unerringly to their Sarbe and hovered so that his wheels projected through the mist at head height, but he himself could not see the ground nor talk to the men so had no choice but to go away. Shipley put the rice on to boil; the pilot returned for another try; whereupon Shipley threw the meal away and packed up hastily; whereupon … Three times the indomitable airman stretched the rules to help the soldiers until it was quite dark, after which they spent a particularly cheerless night through being hungry as well as cold. The pilot was back again in the morning before they imagined he could see to fly, so that they were not ready and had to bundle themselves inside clutching their belongings like a disorganized family going on holiday. They were gratefully impressed none the less, and said so.
KOEMBA AND BACK
The search for Batu Hitam continued concurrently with other patrols to many places. Second in priority came the Koemba where Sergeant Malcolm Allen went to explore west of Large’s ambush but found only swamp, though he got near enough to hear the launches. The area was next visited by Condie and his musketeers, Trooper Kilgour replacing the Sergeant-Major. ‘And that’, they recall with feeling, ‘was the time we were chased out.’
Condie’s watch on the Koemba was to be at Large’s place because it had the only known approach. He and de la Billière discussed the wisdom of that, but, using the same involuted reasoning as Large, hoped that the enemy would not think the SAS so foolish as to go there twice. Their route was similar too, accepting the swamp for their final approach now that they knew its limits.
They took five days to reach the cut-off track. Each night the enemy mortared the area they were heading for so that the ever-lurking fear that they were being tracked without knowing it could be a reality; but they heard launches too, which suggested unconcerned routine. ‘Geordie’ Shipley sensed the track before reaching it and halted the patrol. It was wide and well maintained, with a carpet of leaves and no footprints. After a pause during which photographs were taken, Condie motioned Shipley to cross. The latter looked right, left, right again, and just glimpsed a whitish blur of movement which with a little imagination could have been a local’s T-shirt but just as easily a bird taking wing.
A Chinese Parliament ensued to discuss what Shipley had seen, or just did not see, but Shipley was not to be coerced into elaborating the bald truth that he could not even be certain that it was anything at all. Condie’s decision was a hard one. To be caught on the wrong side of the track could be disastrous, and if Shipley’s vision had been of a local the man’s instant disappearance must mean that he had seen and would probably report them; but the evidence was far too ephemeral for Condie’s robust determination, reinforced as that was by the SAS ethic and now by the ‘Get back in’ code as well.
They crossed without incident, pressed on into the swamp for 1,500 yards, basha’d down on an island and contemplated the morrow without enthusiasm. Nothing happened, but that they slowly realized was ominous in itself; no launches had plied the river during the afternoon and after dark the accustomed mortars failed to fire, suggesting that troops might have deployed against them. Then, already on edge, they were startled into rigidity by a stamping and snorting not far away which sounded less like a stag in rut than a native simulating one, probably to induce them to move and so reveal their position. It was a rotten night, without the rest that would have strengthened them for great exertions to come. At first light they moved west towards the spur and river.
Condie’s navigation was good, dry land appeared, and before advancing to their goal they stopped for breakfast with a less than heartening brew and food to individual choice. A shot cracked, no great distance to the south, and was answered immediately by another to the north. All moisture left their mouths and could not be replaced by tea because that tasted like cyanide, while Condie’s biscuit and Shipley’s sardine became as ashes and had to be spewed out, but they were already half conditioned to discovery and mentally prepared for four more shots to the east from, and it was useless to pretend otherwise, their night camp.
So this was it; they were penned in by soldiers who knew of their presence and were actively hunting them, except to the west where the river ran; but even as they considered how best to exploit that gap they heard a launch, of whose idling engine they had been subconsciously aware, steering towards them at full throttle, grounding with a gravelly crunch, and disembarking its crew at the double; soldiers certainly, no need to see them.
One of Lieutenant-Colonel Woodhouse’s more advanced discussion exercises was called to mind – ‘What would you do now?’ The patrol’s plight thus began to seem almost normal, and since there was only one thing to do anyway, they quietly shouldered their bergens and headed northeast between two sources of shooting. But scarcely had Shipley moved into his leading position on the new course than he shrank down into the swamp. An enemy patrol crossed their path some fifteen yards ahead; one that had not fired a shot; clever.
The position seemed hopeless, but Condie subjected his mind to pure objectivity. Escape was the aim, to be pursued like all aims with skill and vigour believing it to be attainable, and reason suggested that not all the factors were unfavourable. The jungle was the best place in the world to get lost and they were probably better trained than the enemy in its lore: hiding, moving, awareness, reaction, shooting. Every target they saw must be an enemy whereas the Indonesians could never be sure; and best of all, the enemy clearly had no walkie-talkies and had to reveal their positions by signal-shots. Having to move was a snag, but the men would be much quieter, less bulky and more agile without their bergens so Condie ordered those to be submerged and abandoned. But there was still that bloody track, where if they arrived by a miracle the enemy would certainly be waiting with machine-guns sited to fire along its length. It hardly seemed worth the effort even to start, but such frying-pan into fire reasoning was subjective and must be ruthlessly suppressed in favour of using all their energies to surviving now.
The patrol’s progress was desperately slow with every muscle under conscious control lest an involuntary movement should swish the water or rustle leaves. Adrenalin coursed and could not be dissipated by exertion, but the enemy played the game by firing signal-shots just when they were most needed so that the pattern of his patrols – four at least – became clear. For five tremulous hours they moved thus, their course varying as the shots dictated between northwest and east like a sailing ship clawing off a storm-swept lee shore, until the seeming miracle occurred and no more shots came from the north.
Now for the track. Shipley did not expose even half an eye to see if it was clear, but stopped and beckoned the others; they bunched and leapt across as one man, offering a target too fleeting even for Large. Quite easy, really! Then they froze to listen for evidence that they had been seen. There was none, and light in heart and burden they motored away.
They expended most of their little remaining nervous energy evading an alert enemy through his forward plat
oons and on the border itself; even the landing-point could be as dangerous as anywhere, especially if natural relief and relaxation were not firmly suppressed, though prodding for mines with ‘parangs’ helped to concentrate the attention. While de la Billière listened to their story he could see they were drained, and sensing their brooding tension he told Condie:
‘Take them into Kuching and get drunk.’
They continued to niggle his mind, however, as he resumed his interrupted consideration of how the Squadron should be employed.
The enemy’s much improved defence of the Koemba paid tribute to Large’s success and confirmed that the river remained an attractive target for the coming but seemingly delayed ‘Claret’ offensive, de la Billière was concerned both to speed things up and to ensure that the SAS were fully involved. They certainly should be, for only they knew the way and could offer the infantry valuable help as decoys or agitators; but much SAS experience showed that pressure would probably be needed, and he was only a major.
The omens were favourable nevertheless. Brigadier Cheyne wanted nothing better than to get his forces moving, provided that could be done within the constraints of secrecy and minimal casualties. General Lea was no less keen despite his heavy responsibility for balancing military necessity against the risk of political disaster, especially as the enemy had just perpetrated a mischief that cried aloud for condign retribution. This incident had been a small-scale affair but heavy with portent; two parties of Indonesian troops had penetrated to the road between Kuching and Serian and there joined with local Chinese communist guerillas to attack a police station and loyal Chinese families with a brutality rare in this campaign. It was clearly aimed at intimidating the Chinese community into supporting the communists against the government, and they were duly terrified. The government too was alarmed, for this could well be the start of that junction between Indonesian Army and CCO which was feared as the greatest, perhaps uncontrollable, threat.
SAS: Secret War in South East Asia Page 28
