Paddy Mayne

by Hamish Ross

  It was about 1730 hr when Mayne became aware that the principal threat to the left flank was beginning to lessen; enemy pressure declined until it became no more than some desultory shelling. No. 3 Troop and B Section of No. 2 Troop under the command of Capt Lepine moved across to the right sector of the town, between the beach and the railway, and took up position about half a kilometre to the west of Squadron HQ and the mortar detachment. And about two hours later, Maj Poat’s scratch troop succeeded in moving further east into the town and contacted 2 SAS, who were in position at the railway goods yard. Then Poat’s group took up position for the night in front of and to the left of the goods yard.

  The night of 5 October brought some slight activity. But it was clear that the next day must be decisive: the defenders were up against an enemy with superior firepower. Engineers worked on into the night and again bridged the swollen river; and in the darkness Allied armour started to move up to the town. Mayne’s orders were to repel any offensive action in his sector, which might take place the next day, while the Allied infantry attacked from the left flank. A little before dawn four Sherman tanks arrived and took up position in the goods yard on the left in support of the squadron and No. 40 (Royal Marine) Commando. Then a Canadian squadron of Sherman tanks appeared and deployed about eight hundred yards to the south. Notwithstanding this powerful bulwark, the Special Raiding Squadron was being stretched to the limit to fill gaps in the line. At dawn, between the cemetery, in the west of the area, and the beach one troop of No. 40 (Royal Marine) Commando and ten men from the SRS were positioned. Between the beach and the railway goods yard, about a kilometre east, was 2 SAS supported by A Section of No. 3 Troop, plus B Section of No. 2 Troop and about thirty men with two anti-tank guns. In front of the goods yard were Maj Poat with the remainder of No. 2 Troop and C Section of No. 1 Troop, supported by four tanks and two anti-tank guns. The mortar detachment was in a valley behind Capt Lepine’s group and Squadron HQ, slightly to the south-east of this perimeter.

  At 0500 hr, the enemy commenced shelling the squadron’s positions, and this was accompanied by mortar and small-arms fire. There was no finesse: it was an outright attritional battle with armour and infantry; the Sherman tanks which supported the unit fired from static positions. Such was the intensity of battle that the Reconnaissance regiment deserted their anti-tank guns. However, the squadron would yield no ground. By 0930 hr enemy troops had penetrated as far as some houses to the left of the cemetery, and C Section of No. 1 Troop engaged them with anti-tank guns. Immediately, the enemy evacuated the houses, but this was only to acquire greater firepower. For they returned and reoccupied the houses within half an hour and began to mortar the squadron’s positions. During this mortaring, Capt Sandy Wilson was killed and an other rank of C Section, No. 1 Troop was wounded. It was another half-hour before the Squadron’s mortar detachment, with the help of machine-gun fire from the left of the cemetery, was able to silence the enemy mortars. Beaten back in this sector, the enemy made no further move and the squadron held the positions until 1500 hr. It was then that 36 Infantry Brigade mounted its attack, advancing along the railway, supported by the squadron’s covering fire. The enemy fell back; its attempt to regain Termoli had failed.

  Mayne counted the toll of casualties for Operation Devon and the defence of Termoli. It amounted to twenty-one killed, twenty-four wounded, one injured and twenty-three missing. Then he reflected on the battle for Termoli in his report. First he acknowledged that there was little that could be engaged by the unit’s light weapons. However, he felt that although the enemy shelling and mortaring had been very severe, there had been ‘comparatively little lethal effect’.64 That might appear callous on the part of a commander who had lost eighteen men to one shell. But it was not callous, it was objective. The men had been vulnerable because they were in a truck; but overall, the intense bombardment – with that one exception – had had little lethal effect. He continued:

  It is a good sign that although the fighting of 5/6th was an all-out attempt again to regain Termoli through the cemetery and down the railway, and the enemy had ample forces and heavy support to smash the light forces which were there, he was unable to do so; and it seemed as if their troops were without the morale to advance far (again the fear of being cut off) and the attack was abandoned when the threat to the town was greatest.65

  But one shell had cost the squadron dearly. Mayne recorded that the fifteen men who had been killed outright were buried in the south corner of the garden of a convent on the seafront at Termoli; the three who died of their wounds that same day were buried at the hospital in Termoli. Sandy Wilson’s was the only death on the last day of the fighting for the town. Mayne then began the task, which would go on for some time, of writing to next of kin. He wrote these letters with care and sensitivity.

  For example, he included photographs in his letter to Sandy Wilson’s mother. Mrs Helen Wilson replied and thanked him. She said that Sandy had been very proud of his unit; and it was a comfort to her to know that Mayne thought well of him. She added that Sandy was the second son that she had lost in the war. And she thanked Mayne for his thoughtfulness in including the photographs of her son.66 Mayne also wrote to Christopher O’Dowd’s mother. Christy O’Dowd, Irish Guards, had been one of the original group of sixty other ranks to form L Detachment and came from the south of Ireland. So he was one of Mayne’s Irish Patrol, whom Pleydell wrote of,67 who had a shamrock painted on each of their Jeeps. O’Dowd came from Shrule in Galway, and there seemed to be some difficulty in obtaining his address. The first to do so and to write from the unit was Lt Disinan. Mrs Sarah O’Dowd replied on 8 December 1943. What still comes through in these letters from next of kin is a depth of grief and a quiet fortitude. Her letter was passed to Mayne. A fragment of his draft in pencil was filed beside it.

  I have been feeling for a long time that I would very much like to write to you but until lately I have been unable to get your address. I would like to offer you and your husband and family my sincere sympathy on the death of your son, Christopher.

  I knew him well, and on many raids . . .68

  Of those of B Section No. 3 Troop who had been captured on the morning of 3 October, none had a more unexpected reception from the enemy than John Tonkin. He experienced the vestige of an earlier age: a code of chivalry among officers that transcended national armies. He was taken first to regimental headquarters and treated to a sandwich lunch in the mess. There were five doctors in the mess and three of them, before the war, had been to England. Their English, he recorded, was fluent and there were some pleasant reminiscences. After lunch, one of them, wrote Tonkin, ‘was delighted when I gave him a fill from my pipe tobacco.’ But this was only the beginning of a small social circuit he had to make. That night he was taken to divisional headquarters at Patata and then on to corps headquarters at Campobasso, where, he was told, he was to have lunch with Gen Heidrich. Heidrich had a policy of always entertaining captured British parachute officers. But Tonkin had been on a Commando raid; Hitler’s infamous top-secret Commando order had been in force for a year: ‘Under no circumstances can [they] be treated according to the rules of the Geneva Convention.’69 Tonkin set aside his wariness when he found the general most hospitable. Heidrich pressed six cigars on to him and, with the privilege of rank, proceeded to determine the topics of conversation. He discussed the German parachute landings on Crete, then moved on to the Russian front. When he turned, without too much delicacy, to the political field, his views – notwithstanding his apparent disregard for the Führer’s stipulation regarding those captured on Commando raids – were more than tinged with National Socialism. He opined that the British and the Germans should not be at war with each other but should combine against the inevitable threat from the far east. However, for the last subject on his agenda, it was the soldier in him that spoke: turning to the Termoli raid, he gave his assessment of it. He had had a closer acquaintance with it than he revealed. For according to Durnford-Slater
, Gen Heidrich had been in Termoli on the night of the raid and only escaped by slipping away on foot.70 However, he summed up his appreciation of the raid to Tonkin: ‘What a beautiful stroke the Termoli landing had been. It had inconvenienced them a great deal and was perfectly timed.’71 Despite the warmth of Heidrich’s hospitality, the following day Tonkin escaped. And on 18 October, he rejoined the unit.

  From the military point of view, the capture of Termoli had been a severe blow to the Germans. The Allied Operational Commander, Gen Alexander, in his reflections acknowledged the contribution that the Special Service Brigade had made to the capture of Termoli.72 The Officer Commanding the 8th Army, Gen Montgomery, visited the Special Raiding Squadron on 11 October; he posed for photographs in the company of Mayne and Lt Col Manners of 40 (Royal Marine) Commando. But the officer under whose command the squadron had operated throughout the campaigns of Sicily and Italy was Gen Dempsey, Commander of XIII Corps. He visited the unit on 10 October and gave this address:

  It is just three months since we landed in Sicily, and during that time you have carried out four successful operations.

  You were originally lent to me for the first operation – that of Capo Murro di Porco. That was a brilliant operation, brilliantly planned and brilliantly carried out. Your orders were to capture and destroy a coastal battery, but you did more.

  I left it entirely to you what you did after that, and you went on to capture two more batteries and a very large number of prisoners. An excellent piece of work.

  No one could have foretold that things would have turned out as they had. You were to have returned to the Middle East after that operation, but you then went on to take Augusta. You had no time for careful planning, but still you were highly successful.

  Then came Bagnara and Termoli. The landing at Termoli completely upset the Germans’ schedule, and the balance of their forces, by introducing a threat to the north of Rome. They were obliged to bring to the east coast the 16th Panzer Division, which was in reserve in the Naples area. They had orders, which have since come into our hands, to recapture Termoli at all costs and drive the British into the sea. These orders, thanks to you, they were unable to carry out. It had another effect, though. It eased the pressure on the American 5th Army and, as you have probably read, they are now advancing.

  When I first saw you at Azzib and told you that you were going to work with XIII Corps, I was very impressed by you and by everything I saw. When I told you that you had a coastal battery to destroy, I was convinced that it was the right sort of job.

  In all my military career – and in my time I have commanded many units – I have never yet met a unit in which I had such confidence as I have in yours. And I mean that!

  Let me give you six reasons why I think you are as successful as you are. Six reasons which I think you will perhaps bear in mind when training newcomers to your ranks to your own high standards.

  First of all, you take your training seriously. That is one thing that has always impressed me about you.

  Secondly, you are well disciplined. Unlike some who take on the specialised and highly dangerous job, you maintain a standard of discipline and cleanliness which is good to see.

  Thirdly, you are physically fit, and I think I know you well enough to know you will always keep that up.

  Fourthly, you are completely confident in your abilities – yet not to a point of overconfidence.

  Fifthly, despite that confidence, you plan carefully.

  Last of all, you have the right spirit, which I hope you will pass on to those who may join you in the future.

  Gen Dempsey then went on to explain that there were further points which he always endeavoured to bear in mind when handling the unit.

  These principles, if I may call them such are: first, never use you unless the job is worthwhile. That is to say, unless the effect to be gained more than compensates for the risk taken in putting you in; and there is always considerable risk in using troops like yourselves.

  Secondly, never to put you in too far ahead of the army. I must be able to reach you in twelve to twenty-four hours; if you are a small party, in twelve hours, if a large party, at most in twenty-four hours.

  Thirdly, I must be prepared to use the whole of my force, including artillery, and tanks if need be, to reach you within that time. One reason is that you always seem to stir up trouble wherever you go.

  Fourthly, I always try to give you as much time as possible for careful planning.

  On the other hand, I bear in mind that I mustn’t hesitate to use you quickly if the opportunity suddenly arises. Such a case was Augusta, and you succeeded as only a well-trained unit could succeed.

  Finally, once you have carried out your job I must get you out as quickly as possible to enable you to refit and to reorganise.73

  Gen Dempsey then went on to express regret that the association of the corps and Special Raiding Squadron was to end, and hoped it might be renewed at some future date.

  This was a great tribute to the unit and a resounding endorsement of Mayne’s leadership. He had melded and led an outstanding unit. He had known from the beginning of their period of training what he wanted to achieve; there had been no change of direction – he was consistent throughout. And among the reasons that Dempsey cited as evidence of the unit’s success, training, discipline, physical fitness and careful planning all point to the work of Mayne. Assuredly, the leadership qualities that are implicit in Dempsey’s analysis expose the inadequacy of some judgements on Mayne made on the basis of anecdotes of the desert war. For Mayne more than held his own among outstanding Commando leaders like Jack Churchill and Durnford-Slater. He was younger than they: at 28, he was holder of the DSO and Bar; they were career soldiers, he was a solicitor. It is perfectly understandable that it was put to Mayne that he should bring his unit within the bailiwick of Combined Operations. And discernible in that was the hand of Laycock.

  Mayne saw Dempsey’s tribute in terms of the unit. For he wrote to Pleydell, with whom he had maintained an infrequent correspondence since the latter had left the unit earlier in the year:

  We have done four seaborne operations and the unit has done smashingly well. General Dempsey, the Corps Commander, paid us what, I imagine, were the highest compliments paid to any unit. Among other things he said we were the best crowd he had ever had under his command. I think he is right, too; the lads have done well!74

  They had, and their work in Italy was over. Dempsey’s address to the unit was intended as a valedictory.

  In a second letter to Pleydell, Mayne wrote about some of the personnel whom Pleydell knew. He told him, ‘Poor old Sandy Wilson was killed in our last operation and Bill Fraser was wounded.’75 Fraser, however, was recovering in hospital and had been in touch with Mayne. He was a very competent officer who had seen a lot of action from 1941 onwards. When he was in No. 11 Commando he had had a close call at the Litani river action when a bullet had hit the chinstrap of his helmet. Melot, who had received his first war wound in the First World War, continued to show his remarkable resilience. Mayne told Pleydell, ‘With a bit of trouble we managed to get him to go to a hospital, but he came back after a couple of days with a card to say he was fit for full duty!’76 Another who had been wounded, but at Bagnara, and who was determined to return to the unit was Sgt Ted Badger. However, his wounds required complicated treatment, which had to be carried out in the UK. But this did not diminish his keenness to return to the unit.

  Mayne himself had emerged unscathed, physically, from the unit’s actions in Sicily and mainland Italy. But at some point he had sustained an injury to his back. When this happened is quite unknown, for he revealed it to no one in the unit. It may not have happened in 1943; it may have been the result of his parachute drop on Timimi in November 1941. The inference must be that it happened earlier but was becoming a problem for him. The first allusion to this injury appears in a letter he wrote to his sister Barbara on 20 October 1943. But his reference to it simply allay
s her concerns about him. He had perhaps unwittingly mentioned it in an earlier letter and Barbara, a nurse, wrote for more information. His reply played down its significance and suggested that he must have been short of news when he had bothered to include such trivia in his previous letter.77 But it was no trivial matter for Mayne: he would continue to endure it without reporting sick, but with serious consequences for him.

  Some accounts of this period have been laced with tales of Mayne’s heavy drinking. No conclusions, however, can be drawn from these tales. All that can be safely assumed is that he came from a culture where hard drinking was not unusual. For example, in a letter to his brother, Mayne wrote in the context of a shared understanding of consuming a large volume of whisky. Among the officers in the unit, Bill Fraser from Aberdeen was the product of a similar culture. He and Mayne had much in common in their type of drinking. Probably the difference between them was that Mayne had an immense ability to hold his liquor, whereas Fraser had not. But it would be the following year before the unit expanded sufficiently to provide a view in the round of life in the officers’ mess, and a further year before Mayne’s own writing gives a clearer picture of his attitude towards drinking. What is clear from the documents of the period when he commanded the Special Raiding Squadron is that he was a man very much in control.