In the Tobruk raid, Lieutenant-Colonel J.E. Haselden—whom we left as a junior captain signalling in Bob Laycock’s men for the raid on Rommel’s headquarters—was in overall command and led a party going overland to set up beach marking lights. John Haselden, Egyptian-born son of an Englishman and his Greek wife, was a cotton mill owner whose service with the intelligence units was more often cladestine than regular soldiering. His Troop included men of the Special Identification Group (SIG), among them former German nationals resident in Palestine in the 1940s and two British officers: Captain Herbert Bray, an Oxford scholar fluent in German, and Lieutenant David Lanark, who is reputed to have spoken six Geman dialects. John Haselden’s men would filter through the Italian perimeter of Tobruk, passing themselves off as a German patrol, a role played with such attention to detail that four men not only wore German uniforms but also each carried a couple of love letters from their girls supposedly in Germany, and they marched in the German style, swinging their hands across the body. Once inside the perimeter they would hold a small bay near the harbour and signal in the main forces. Known as Force B, John Haselden’s men had a long and difficult approach march—if travelling with Long Range Desert Group vehicles can be described as a march, for it was closer to a voyage across the Great Sand and other so-called seas, over hills, and the scrub of the desert.
The landing of the Royal Marine Force A was delayed when no radio signals were received from John Haselden, and after the decision to land was made at 0210 for launching the boats at 0300, there were further delays caused by trouble with the assault craft. The first flight eventually began their run-in and the destroyers moved back out of range of the coastal batteries. On returning half an hour later, expecting the craft to be coming offshore for the second flight of marines, they found only broken-down craft, including the Colonel’s which carried the only ship-to-shore radio. Coming within a mile of the shore about 0415 they could see fighting on the beach, but after standing off this headland for threequarters of an hour HMS Sikh was caught in a searchlight beam as she engaged shore batteries. In 20 minutes she was on fire with only X-turret and her 20mm firing. Despite Zulu’s efforts to tow her, she had to be abandoned about 0800 when X-turret was out of ammunition and an hour later she sank.
John Haselden’s men, having realised around 0530 that the raid had failed, set out to fight their way clear of the Italian lines, the SIG men burning their German uniforms. Pinned in by a large force supported by tanks and trapped in a wadi, they made a final stand during which John Haselden was killed; others attempted to refloat an MTB and were fired on by an E-boat searching the coast. The few machine-gunners who had landed held off some attacks but they ran out of ammunition, and of the few small parties that finally got clear only Lieutenant Tom Langton of the SBS, Sergeant Steiner of SIG, and Sergeant Evans from Haselden’s Troop reached British lines. Others were murdered by Arabs or killed in a brush with Italians during the trek across the desert.
The navy lost a number of ships on their run back to Alexandria, including the anti-aircraft cruiser HMS Coventry, and only 90 marines of Force A reached Egypt as many were killed or drowned when the destroyers’ boats were caught by shore fire. John Haselden’s original plan to go in with 12 men and set fire to the storage tanks seems more likely to have paid dividends than the complex operation attempted.
SBS sections made a number of raids during this period (for brief details see Appendix 7) and several undercover operations. These included a landing in North Africa on the night of 22-23 October 1942 when some senior ‘brass’, including Major-General Mark Clark, second-in-command of the Allied forces for Torch, were landed by canoe for discussions with the French General, Mast, on the likely reactions of Vichy French forces to the proposed invasion.
In the North African, Torch, landings the primary role of all the special forces—commandos and rangers alike—was the capture of batteries flanking the main landing beaches: for example, as the 1st Rangers captured the forts at Arzew. Other Americans landed after a 4,500 miles (7,200km) voyage from the States and achieved their primary objectives with a day or so.
In the Mediterranean the first integrated Allied force sailed 2,300 miles (3,700km) north around Ireland, a week’s voyage for the troop transports and longer for the slower convoys carrying tanks. Nevertheless, they reached their dropping-zones in the right sequence at the right time, even if some ships muffed the launching of craft because their merchant navy and reservists crews did not all have the experience of those Royal Navy personnel on the longer-serving LSIs like HMS Royal Ulsterman, HMS Glengyle, and HMS Prince Albert. The integrated Allied command, with American, British, and Commonwealth officers, worked in close harmony on these plans, with only those differences one might expect in family squabbles—for all the journalistic mileage made in post-war memoirs.
This integration ran from top to bottom, the commando force landing in the Algiers area being a composite force from 1 and 6 Commando with elements of the 168th US Infantry Regimental Combat Team. These RCTs were typically an infantry regiment with attached troops—three battalions of infantry, a field artillery battalion, a company of combat engineers, medical, ordnance, and other attached specialists. Several rifle companies as Troops from the 168th were joined with 1 Commando and four with 6 Commando, for convenience referred to as ‘No.1’ and ‘No.6’ and all equipped with the American Garand rifle that 1 and 6 Commandos retained until the end of the War. Group A from ‘No.1’ and Group B-‘No.6’-landed west of the port while Group C (another party from ‘No.1’) landed east of Algiers. Group A under Lieutenant Colonel T.H. Trevor (CO of 1 Commando) were put ashore late, but by 0300 they were being welcomed in Fort Sidi Feruch by General Mast, who, true to his word to Mark Clark, had ordered his French division not to fight. The men of 6 Commando, Group B, had a rougher passage because the merchant navy crews of HMT Awatae had trouble launching the LCVPs and these crafts’ crews made a hash of the landing: only one in five finding the motor launch that was to lead them in the dark to the canoe markers off their beach. The others tossed about in rough water, their newly built landing craft springing leaks and suffering many engine breakdowns. All commandos wore American uniforms in this landing as these were thought less provacative to the Vichy French, and the basin-shaped tin hats came in useful as balers. Nevertheless, the Colonel’s craft was sinking fast as she reached the beach, two hours late. French searchlights played over the water but it was broad daylight when the last boat beached at 0630.
Three boats had attempted to land east of their target and came on the rocky Ilot de la Marine, a fortified strongpoint inside the harbour entrance: here Major A.S. Ronald was killed with several of his men, and the remainder of the Troop were captured. There may be some explanation for the tangle of landing craft coming ashore at Algiers, for the town was not blacked out until 0100 hours, and anyone used to a darkened shore where the pin-pricks of COPP or SBS marker canoes’ lights were possible, if difficult, to find stood no hope of seeing them against the myraid light of a port.
The delays in landing nearly caused the few pro-Allied Free Frenchman in the town to lose their hold on vital installations when attacked by Vichy forces, and the Fort Duperre’s batteries fired at the ships even though ‘No.6’ had crossed the rocky beaches of Poine Pescado and had surrounded it about 0830. Their light weapons’ fire made no impression on the garrison, who ignored appeals from a French-Canadian commando’s loud hailer (bull horn). They also ignored an attack by RN Fleet Air Arm Albacores, who dropped 36 bombs for one hit, but when threatened with naval bombardment the garrison gave in, no doubt feeling that as they had held out until 1330, honour was satisfied.
The bulk of the American force—the main body of the 168th RCT—were spread around the coast on either side of ‘No.1’s west landing, although they should have landed just north-east of Cape Sidi Feruch. They were, however, rallied by some vigorous leadership and advanced elements had reached the suburbs of Algiers by 0830. By then, Colonel Tre
vor had already taken some of his commandos in a 20-mile (32km) dash to the airfield at Blida, where, arriving about 0800, he was negotiating its surrender when a detachment of the British 11th Brigade drove up at 0930 and a Martlet of the Fleet Air Arm landed on seeing the French surrender. The men landing east of Algiers—also from ‘No.1’—were in craft delayed by a bank of fog and they did not invest Fort D’Elrees until some two hours after the planned time for its assault. This fort did not surrender, despite bombardment, until late in the afternoon, and by then the main Allied force in the eastern area were well-established. Unlike the commandos, this 39th RCT had got ashore more or less on time and by 0130 were moving inland. In Algiers, as at Oran, an attempt was made to land troops directly into the harbour. The 3rd Battalion of the US 135th Regiment were taken in by two destroyers, HMS Broke and HMS Malcolm, but 250 of the landing parties were captured.
SPECIAL BOAT SECTION
SECRET
PASSING OUT INSTRUCTIONS
1.You are now considered fit to operate on your own, and should be proficient in Navigation, Demolition, and Scoutcraft.
2.You have to be selected on your character qualifications as much as anything else and as far as we can judge, you can be trusted to take responsibility and can be trusted on your own.
3.Try and be “world minded”, remember you belong to an organization which stretches round the globe, your S.B.S. badge should be a passport into any Naval Mess. We are jealous of our good name, and our reputation is in your hands.
4.If you go abroad you will very largely have to administer yourselves. People are usually helpful, but remember if you have to deal with military establishments ashore, that the personal touch will get you more than a mass of paper work would.
5.Give of your best at all times, first for the War Effort, secondly for the S.B.S., and lastly for yourself.
6.If you find any way that our system can be improved, put it into practice and let us know the results, and we will do the same for you.
7.The S.B.S. Depot is your servant, let us know what you want and we will let you have it by the quickest possible means.
8.Keep in touch, and let us have regular progress reports.
9.Good luck and good hunting.
KEEP THIS AND LOOK AT IT OCCASIONALLY
ARDROSSAN
23 JUN 42.
RJAC/HA.
R. J. Courtney (Major)
Commanding Special Boat Section
Instructions given to men of the SBS on passing out from the Ardrossan (Ayrshire) depot, signed, by Major R. J. Courtney and stressing the world-wide nature of the Section’s activities.
While the invasion was coming to a successful conclusion in North Africa, Stan Weatherall and Captain R (Dicky) Livingstone were embarked on HMS Ursula for a sabotage raid in North Italy that could not be carried out by bombers. Aboard Ursula there was room only for a canoe slung above the forward messdeck table, and a second canoe in place of a torpedo. Ursula was on a 21-day patrol, although CSM Stan Weatherall had found a three-day patrol the previous week was long enough. Going north up the Spanish coast into the Gulf of Lyons the weather was ‘very very rough’ and the sea’s movement could be felt even at 125 feet according to the Sergeant-Major. There were two feet (60cm) of water in the control room: the asdic, the giro-compass, and one motor packed up, but Lieutenant Laykin RN continued the patrol that was not being specially mounted for the SBS operation. The SBS men took their watch as lookouts before the sixth night of the voyage when the submarine was in the Gulf of Genoa, north of Ligurian sea. On Sunday, 29 November, they landed in a canoe about 2000 hours by the coast road near a village not far from Ventimiglia. They hid the canoe, cut their way through some wire into the grounds of a big house, and crossed a road to find a sheer drop to the railway line—their target. They therefore had to move into the village outskirts where there were large houses each side of the road and backing on to the railway track. Cutting through the back gardens they came to a small bungalow with a verandah overlooking the track. From this perch above the railway they could make out one sentry above the tunnel entrance and another on the track. There would be no chance of catching a train inside the tunnel for they had strict orders not to interfere with any Italians, as this raid must go undetected. One long train rumbled by as they watched.
They were standing on the verandah when a soldier suddenly came through the door and relieved himself into the darkness beyond the verandah. He chatted over his shoulder, unaware death was an arm’s length away as the commandos, deadly still, each held a knife for the silent kill. They slipped back to the road parallel to the track, and found a curve where the pressure fuse (see Appendix 3) could be laid with charges to blow out six feet (2m) of track on the outside bend; the train’s own weight would then topple it off the lines. This was an electrified railway with overhead cables and pylons that also carried power supplies along the coast. Taking extreme care for the slightest clink of metal to metal might arouse the sentries 100 yards down the line, they linked charges with instantaneous fuse to two pylons and the track. Once in place these charges would blow when the pressure of a passing train lowered the rail a few millimeters releasing the striker on the coiled spring which in turn would fire the percussion cap.
They had 20 minutes to get back aboard or they must wait till next night, for after the moon rose at 2330 the submarine could not risk surfacing. They returned to the village road and were boldly walking along it, Dicky Livingstone whistling an Italian classic. No one took any notice, although when one of some drunks passing the SBS men came up to them Dick Livingstone’s Italian—he was a university don—passed muster and they reached the canoe, getting back aboard before 2330. The submarine was moving out to sea when an explosion lit the sky and the lights along the coast went out. They may not have been able to derail a train in the tunnel but they blocked the line for four days, for the damaged track was on a 20-foot embankment. Their voyage continued with the submarine sinking an Italian schooner: after she was boarded the canoeists had placed a charge on one of her depth charges—less costly than using gunfire. This was kept for a train attacked a couple of days later, and to stop a ship in ballast—again sunk by SBS charges, 25lb (11kg) set in the forward hold. They rejoined the submarine’s depot ship in Algiers at the end of the patrol.
By now this port was safely in Allied hands, although the two composite Commandos, after joining together south of the town on the airfield, had taken part in a couple of outflanking landings and many patrols. They landed at Bone, two days after the first Torch assault, reaching the airport 250 miles (400km) east of Algiers as Dakotas of the US Army Air Force landed some British paras. The commandos’ name alone was sufficient to sway one French commander’s decision to fight. When he was told of the Allied support, he replied: ‘It isn’t much.’ Then, after a pause, he added: ‘All the same they have got Commandos with them, that’s worth something. Gentlemen, we fight.’
‘No.6’ was moved a week later by train, but going east into Tunis they were shot up when their lone Spitfire escort had flown off to refuel and many men were caught in the moving wheels of the train. The Allies were not to establish complete mastery in the air for some weeks, and the Commandos paid the penalties of units without their own supporting anti-aircraft guns. Nor did they have much transport—officially. They had to win what they could; a Christmas present here of a staff car and three trucks; there, several vehicles swiped from the roadside before the official recovery units could get to them for repairs.
‘No.1’ sailed in landing craft from Bone to Tabarka and were sent further east along the coast at dusk on 30 November for the first of many raids commandos and rangers would make in outflanking enemy positions. The composite force—six British and four American Troops—dominated the coast for some 125 miles (200km) and up to five miles (8km) inland, holding sections of the Bizerte to Mateur road where it skirts the north shore of Lake Garaet. From positions under the tall Mediterranean heather, higher than a man in
places, they were able to hold a major crossroads for 72 hours and a minor one for another 24, although the Germans put patrols in Arab dress and one was wearing a green beret. After more than three days on short rations two tins of stew, half a tin of bully beef, three bars of choclate per man—they were withdrawn. The raid may have been only a modest success, yet they reached within four miles (6km) of the major German base at Bizerte, and prevented the free use of the supply road to the enemy’s forward positions for the loss of 60 British and 74 American raiders.
While ‘No.1’ had been raiding. ‘No.6’ was also in action, losing 80 men on 30 November in trying to take the 900-foot (275m) high strongpoint known as Green Hill on the railway running east from Tabarka. This natural redoubt defeated the commandos, with only five of No.5 Troop surviving an ambush by Germans dressed as Arabs. Indeed, the redoubt never fell to direct assault, even by larger forces with adequate artillery support when ammunition had become more plentiful.
After these losses the commandos were reorganised, and 65 American volunteers stayed with them in the six Troops of each Commando, all the Americans rejoining their units, however, by 31 January 1943. A small headquarters staff came out from the Special Service Brigade and Lieutenant-Colonel William Glendinning coordinated their deployment in working with the ‘First’ Army—a British Corps holding a 30-mile (nearly 50km) front through the mountains west of Tunis. Their base was an old iron mine belonging to the Bey of Tunis, situated off a lonely road running west from Beja and within reach of the green Mateur valley. The Canadian journalist Ross Munro has described a typical raid from here, ‘led by the Colonel, a big rugged man with a great moustache, riding a mule’—Lieutenant-Colonel Tom Trevor commanding 1 Commando. They went down the road from the mine and slogged 15 or so miles through mud and darkness to reach their positions in some wet bushes, where they lay up all day, eating bully beef and hard tack washed down with steaming sweet tea. That night half the party went further north to Cap Serrat where they were to join two landing craft; however, these had mishaps so the move eastward was dropped. The force, still in bivouac, sent out patrols that discovered little more than the inaccuracies in their maps, and set light to some hostile Arabs’ villages. The men who had been to the beach made a 50-mile march in 30 hours back to the mine across enemy patrolled country. This raid shows a little of the frustrations and patient drudgery of patrolling, often in dangerous places, when the physical effort is more wearing than the adrenalin-racing actions of close contact with the enemy.
Commandos and Rangers of World War II Page 20
