The Long Range Desert Group in World War II

by Gavin Mortimer

  Realizing he was stuck in the village for the foreseeable future, Carr began noting down information that might prove useful upon his liberation.

  December 13: Was taken to cave early. Artillery and auto cannon active all day. 30 enemy motor cycle combinations passed through village.

  December 14: Cave at dawn. Artillery, bombs and auto cannon. Senussi shepherd [Mohamed] brought news of crashed RAAF [Royal Australian Air Force] officer.

  December 15: Wounded RAAF officer arrived. Goat ate my map.

  December 16: Patrols around and artillery and small arms fire to east.

  December 17: Note reached 31st regt (Field) RA and was acknowledged. RAAF officer and self went on donkeys and were picked up in truck and taken forward.10

  Jalo Oasis in December 1941. Neither the LRDG nor the SAS liked the oasis, which was plagued by flies and where the water was brackish. (Courtesy of the SAS Regimental Archive)

  Carr eventually reached the HQ of the 4th Indian Division on 20 December, where he was ‘suspected of being a fifth columnist’. Confirmation of his identity was provided by Lieutenant Colonel Prendergast and Carr was back with the LRDG two days before Christmas. He swapped tales with his comrades, furnishing them with details of his escapade with the Senussi, while they in turn enlightened him with accounts of their successful operations in conjunction with the SAS. Since the start of December the LRDG had transported SAS raiding parties to a series of targets, including an attack by Paddy Mayne on Tamet airfield that destroyed 24 aircraft. More recently, Lieutenant Bill Fraser and five men had blown up 37 aircraft at Agedabia with help from the LRDG, who for their efforts had earned the affectionate nickname ‘The Libyan Taxi Service’.

  Prendergast had visited Eighth Army headquarters in Tmimi, Derna on 21 December to receive fresh instructions, orders he passed on to his men when he returned to Jalo in time for Christmas. As well as observing the enemy’s movements and recording topographical details in Tripolitania, the LRDG were to ‘carry out offensive patrols as far behind the enemy’s lines as possible, and act aggressively against his L. of C. [Lines of Communication] in areas where such action was unlikely to be expected’.

  Not stated explicitly in the orders received by Prendergast, but taken as read, was a desire on the part of Eighth Army for the LRDG to continue providing assistance to the SAS, who were now inflicting as much material damage on the Luftwaffe as the RAF. One such collaboration commenced on Christmas Day when a 15-strong T2 Patrol, under the command of 2nd Lieutenant Crosby ‘Bing’ Morris, left Jalo with two SAS parties to attack two airstrips, one at Arco dei Mileni (known to the British as Marble Arch because the Italian monument resembled the famous London landmark), and the second 60 miles further west along the coast at Nofilia.

  This photo was taken at Jalo in December 1941, at the time when David Stirling’s SAS based themselves at the oasis and drew heavily on the expertise of the LRDG. (Courtesy of the SAS Regimental Archive)

  At 38, Morris was a good deal older than most of the ten SAS men he was transporting to their targets, and had it not been for his mother he would have fought in World War I. As a 15-year-old in 1918 he had been queuing at the recruitment office in Fairlie, Canterbury, New Zealand, when his mother ‘grabbed him by the scruff of his neck’ and hauled him home. A farmer, Morris was an excellent rower and had been selected to compete for New Zealand in the 1928 Olympic Games in Amsterdam. But Morris and the rest of the rowing team never made it to Holland because of a shortage of funds to cover their passage to Europe.

  The patrol reached the target area without mishap and on 27 December the LRDG dropped Fraser and his four men about 6 miles from the aerodrome at Marble Arch. On the afternoon of the following day Lieutenant Jock Lewes and four men were deposited close to Nofilia. With the first stage of their mission accomplished, Morris and T2 Patrol headed 10 miles south and lay up to await the return of the SAS raiding parties.

  Robert ‘Ginger’ Riggs, seen here at Siwa in October 1941, was killed two months later when his patrol was mistakenly attacked by an RAF fighter as they escorted an SAS raiding party to their target. (Courtesy of the SAS Regimental Archive)

  Lewes and his men reached the target and spent several hours observing the activity. They counted 43 aircraft, several fuel and ammunition dumps, and made a note of the enemy dispositions. They had neither the men nor the explosives to destroy all the aircraft, so Lewes drew up a plan of attack in a sector containing 18 planes. At nightfall they moved in. It was surprisingly easy to infiltrate the airfield and the SAS had soon placed a bomb on the first aircraft, where the port wing joined the fuselage. They moved onto the second aircraft, then the … But there was no third. To the dismay and bemusement of the SAS, they realized after a brief search in the darkness that the rest of the aircraft had gone. Hurrying off the airfield, Lewes led his men towards the rendezvous, each man wondering why he had not heard the departure of the aircraft in the preceding hours. At sundown on 30 December Lewes’s party were picked up by Morris, who described subsequent events in his operational report.

  31.12.41. This morning we proceeded back to Marble Arch to pick up Lt Fraser’s party. During the past three days many enemy planes were sighted flying up and down the coast road. At about 10.00 hours in open country we were sighted by a Messerschmitt [110 fighter], who immediately attacked us with M.G. fire from a height of about 60 feet. We dispersed as quickly as we could.11

  The graves of Robert Riggs and Laurence Ashby, killed in a friendly fire incident on 22 December 1941, as they escorted an SAS raiding party. (Courtesy of the SAS Regimental Archive)

  There was little cover for the vehicles as the aircraft came in for a second attack. One of the SAS men valiantly fired at their assailant with a Bren gun, but it had no effect as cannon fire erupted around the helpless patrol. The ME 110 broke off the attack after its second pass. Out of ammo, guessed the men on the ground. But there was no time to lose. Other aircraft would surely have been summoned by the pilot on his radio. Morris spotted some large rocks a couple of miles to the north and led his men towards them. Barely had they the time to camouflage the vehicles before they heard the sound of more aircraft. ‘The planes flew low and followed our tracks,’ wrote Morris, adding that there were two Stuka dive bombers and a Storch reconnaissance aircraft.

  Incendiary bullets were used and also cannon … my own truck was the first to go, catching fire. Hand grenades, belts of ammunition and petrol then blew up, completely wrecking the vehicle. Another truck was destroyed by a bomb shortly afterwards. From where I was at this time I could see two large columns of smoke from my own and the bombed truck and after a second bomb had been dropped a third lot of smoke was seen in the direction a truck had taken when disappearing.12

  When the Stukas eventually broke off the attack they left behind a scene of death and destruction. Three of the LRDG’s five vehicles had been destroyed and a fourth was missing. Miraculously, there was only one fatality, although the death of Jock Lewes was a heavy blow to the SAS, and particularly to David Stirling, who in the raising of the force had leaned heavily on his friend’s orderly intelligence. Once Lewes had been buried, the nine survivors set off on the 200 miles to Jalo in the one serviceable truck, Morris anxiously scanning the desert, not just for more aircraft but also signs of the missing truck. He saw nothing, and at 1700 hours on New Year’s Day they reached Jalo where Morris informed Prendergast of the attack, the death of Lewes and the probable death of eight members of the LRDG and Corporal ‘Chalky’ White of the SAS.N.B Unfortunately little information exists as to either the full name of White (not to be confused with another ‘Chalky’ White, who served with 1SAS later in the war) or his definitive fate.

  Then, on 9 January, a native from the British-controlled oasis at Augila arrived at Jalo with a message. Some soldiers, more skeletons than men, had been found in the desert. They claimed they were ‘Inglizi’, although they were in fact all New Zealanders bar one who was indeed English.

  Gunner Edw
ard Stutterd was later debriefed by Bill Kennedy Shaw, relating to the LRDG intelligence officer a tale of incredible endurance. In the initial attack, explained the 32-year-old Stutterd, his truck had not been hit and they had sought shelter in a shallow wadi. When the Messerschmitt had expended its ammunition, they started to drive north, then veering east until they spotted a salt marsh. ‘By this time we were running south-west, skirting the marsh and ahead about three miles to the west sighted the only cover for miles so headed for it with the almost certain knowledge that we would be chased,’ recounted Stutterd. ‘On arrival at the cover, which proved to be only low rolling hills, we hid the cars as well as we could. Brown and I started to get the camouflage net out and our truck covered up while Garven went on look-out. Immediately he told us that there were two aircraft circling our tracks a couple of miles away. They were Stukas and wasted no time in “giving us the works”.’

  Stutterd told Kennedy Shaw how he and his comrades had fled from their truck as the Stukas swooped, diving among scrub and pressing themselves against the hard desert gravel. None of the nine LRDG soldiers, nor White, the SAS raider, were hit, though the truck was destroyed. Once the aircraft had left, the four had a discussion in which they agreed that their best course of action was to head to Augila, the nearest British-occupied oasis. The ten men pooled their rations and counted three gallons of water, one packet of nine biscuits and a tin of emergency chocolate rations.

  Shortly after midday on New Year’s Eve, 1941, the men set off on foot for Augila, travelling in two parties of five, each man taking his turn to carry the water drum for 12-minute stretches. Their intention was to cross the Marada to Agheila road before darkness descended. ‘We travelled in spells of an hour with quarter-hour rests,’ said Stutterd.

  At midnight we celebrated the New Year with our first ration of water, a quarter of a pint, and a half-hour spell, to the accompaniment of dropping flares and ack-ack fire in the direction of Agheila. The R.A.F. were on the job. We marched on until the sun rose and decided to have a break in a wadi. The weather was bitterly cold and I climbed to the top of the ridge to look for signs of the road. Three-quarters of the way up I heard aircraft again so went to ground. Two Stukas approached from the direction of Marada and flew north across our tracks of the previous night. Ten minutes later they flew south on the east side of us. These were the last aircraft to worry us.13

  The men huddled together for warmth, but the cold was so great it was impossible to sleep. They let a few hours pass to see if any more aircraft arrived, but none did. Stutterd used the time to fashion a pair of moccasins from his greatcoat because his sandals had by now fallen to bits.

  S Patrol spent December 1941 escorting SAS raiding parties to Libyan airfields but in January 1942 they were able to pose for the camera. This photo shows (left to right) Maxfield, Merrick, McKay and Massey. (Courtesy of the SAS Regimental Archive)

  Judging that the Germans had called off the chase, the ten men set off at 1400 hours on New Year’s Day and marched across the desert for long, cheerless hours. They paused for a rest the following morning and some of the men breakfasted on desert snails. ‘I made a half-hearted suck at one in the shell which turned out to be more obstinate than my hunger and so I desisted,’ explained Stutterd. ‘In the mid-afternoon we decided to get going again. Here White, the [SAS] parachutist, left us. He had had the long march to the landing ground at Nofilia and back and his feet were almost raw. He said he would go towards Marada and try to seize a truck and get home that way. Actually we thought he meant to give himself up so as not to hinder the rest of the party. We gave him some water and did not see him again.’14

  By now the men’s bodies were racked by hunger and exhaustion, their minds clawed by doubt. There were few words exchanged as they tramped across the desert; each man preferred to be alone with his own thoughts, fighting the gathering fear that assailed every one – the fear of a wretched, slow, agonizing death. They were down to three-eighths of a pint of water each. ‘At dawn the next morning we sighted a fire which seemed to be about seven or eight miles away,’ said Stutterd. ‘We reasoned that where there was fire there were Arabs and where there were Arabs there was water and perhaps food.’ The men agreed to head towards the fire, but after marching for several hours the fire was no nearer. The trickery was too much for five of the party, who laid down to rest. Stutterd and three other men – Garven, Martin and Brown – pressed on, determined to find this fire. Stutterd told Kennedy Shaw:

  We marched for an hour or so and came to some very moist ground in the marsh. Our thirst by this time was getting very bad and we dug a small well, hoping for water. Brown carried on towards the fire, saying that he ‘would fire a shot if he found anything’. After a while we struck water at about three feet, but it was far too salt to drink. We baled it out for a while with a tin hat, trying to clear it up, but it was no good. Then I thought I heard a shot and we headed for the sound. After an hour’s walking we found Brown with four Arabs and it was not long before we were gargling the small drop of water they had with them and eating a few dates.15

  The Arabs then led the four LRDG men to a spring 6 miles away, and by nightfall the rest of the party arrived and they were asleep round a large fire started by the Arabs. Their water supply replenished and their hunger marginally eased by the dates, the soldiers bade farewell to their hosts the following day and set off with a full drum of water.

  A DESERT SANDSTORM

  The approach of a sandstorm was never welcomed with the wind throwing fine gravel into the faces of the men at a speed of 30 or 40 mph. (Courtesy of the SAS Regimental Archive)

  If the LRDG had time, and it was possible in the terrain, they would dig shallow holes and take refuge as the storm passed over. (Courtesy of the SAS Regimental Archive)

  The worse sort of sandstorm was a qibli, which not only whipped up a huge cloud of dust but also brought unbearable heat. (Courtesy of the SAS Regimental Archive)

  It soon became apparent that the march was taking a toll on their bodies. They had barely enough strength to carry their precious supply of water, and the cold now cut through their emaciated bodies with cruel relentlessness. ‘We were making fairly slow progress now, being very tired,’ admitted Stutterd. ‘The weather also was very threatening. About 3.30pm it began to rain, and judging our distance from Augila to be about twenty-five miles, we decided to drink as much as we could, leave the water and make all speed for the oasis. We moved off but after a couple of hours had to stop for a rest: sleep was overpowering.’16

  They attempted to move off at 0730 hours on 7 January, but a dust storm suddenly blew up and they were forced to dig shallow holes in the ground with what remained of their strength.

  By mid-morning they were on their way, doubled up against a punishing head wind. They kept going for most of the daylight hours, but that evening there was a tacit acknowledgement among the men that they were down to the last dregs of their endurance. ‘The next morning spirits were getting fairly low,’ said Stutterd. ‘Thirst was troubling us badly and our feet were getting almost unbearably sore. Our marching spells were cut to a fraction and every one was getting very tired. About 11 a.m. we sighted a wadi to the left of the road and as the sun was the warmest we had felt it for the whole journey we got down for a two hours’ sleep.’17

  It required all of their energy and willpower to rise themselves from their slumber and continue their slow plodding march. It would have been so easy to stay where they were, and carry on sleeping. But the men cajoled and encouraged each other, and they were soon on their way. They hadn’t been travelling long when Stutterd thought he saw some palm trees in the distance. ‘I hesitated to say anything about it. Our eyes were sore and by this time we were seeing things. However, they became so distinct that I mentioned it and we decided that they were palm trees. We headed off the road for the oasis which was about five miles away at that stage.’18

  Hardly allowing themselves to believe they may have reached Augila, the men
agreed to cover the distance in intervals of half a mile, resting their weary bodies in between. But excitement overcame them, the adrenalin giving them an impetus. Just before sundown on 8 January they stumbled into Augila. ‘I found an empty Arab garden and a hut which we appropriated for the night,’ recounted Stutterd. ‘We lit a good fire, boiled some turnips and onions and had a glorious drink out of the well. After the most comfortable night since December 30th (it was now January 8th) we cooked more turnips and onions, made some date tea and set off for the fort. On the way we met two Arab policemen who took charge of us and led us to their barracks. Too much praise cannot be given to those Arabs for the way they treated us.’19 When word reached the LRDG of the arrival of the nine men, a delighted Major Don Steele jumped in a truck and drove the 20 miles to Augila. ‘Never have I enjoyed the sound of a motor more than the one that took us back to Jalo and safety,’ reflected Stutterd.

  The nine LRDG men had to be helped from the truck by their comrades and each then received an examination from Captain Richard Lawson, the medical officer, who had joined the unit the previous month. ‘Their ankles were painful and swollen, as were their knees, and their feet were oedematous,’ he wrote.20† The men also had severe indigestion, which in some cases was to last for several days.

  Kennedy Shaw was also there to welcome the men home, marvelling at their accomplishment of covering 200 miles on foot with the bare minimum of food and clothing, faced with extreme cold and heat. The intelligence officer was struck by the wild staring eyes of the men and searched his mind for where he had seen such a look before. Then it came to him. ‘In the second volume of [Captain] Scott’s Last Expedition, the official account of his explorations in the Antarctic before the Great War, there is a photograph of Wilson, Bowers and Cherry Garrard taken a few minutes after they had arrived back from their winter journey to Gape Crozier … It was twenty years since I had read Scott’s book but I had never forgotten the look in the eyes of those three men in the photograph. I saw the T2 men the day after they reached Jalo. I remembered where I had seen that look before.’21