by Hamish Ross
North-west Europe 1945
We were doing some preliminary thinking about how we would get Jeeps over there and whether aircraft range was sufficient to drop Jeeps, and what maps were available. We had been trained to operate in the desert – we were familiar with the desert. We gave thought to the height of the mountains, whether Stirlings would get that high, whether you needed oxygen and so on. But it was very skeletal.19
A month later their efforts to learn more about the possibilities for SAS work in the theatre were given a sharper focus following a change of personnel at Brigade. Brig McLeod was posted to India and replaced by Brig J.M. (Mad Mike) Calvert, who had served with the Chindits under Wingate. Over the next few months, Calvert – as is clear from his correspondence – reinforced their expectation that the unit was to be used in the Far East after the war in Europe ended.
With the prospect of a long-drawn-out conflict in the Far East, Anglo-American cooperation was very close. What Churchill referred to in the early days of the war as the might of the New World implied both the military capacity of the United States and the resources it had to sustain that capability. One method of funding the American war effort was through the sale of war bonds, which were bought by citizens and institutions across the country. Movie stars and sports figures were joined by servicemen with distinguished records, including some from America’s allies: Guy Gibson, who led the Dam Buster squadron, attended bond-raising functions as part of his propaganda tour of the USA. The SAS was invited to send four representatives, two from each regiment. Mayne selected Mike Sadler and Sgt Maj Rose. It was an unexpected and stimulating posting for them: they went to Washington, visited banking houses, gave talks at shipyards, did radio broadcasts and made bond appeals. ‘Needless to say, we lived well; we were met at the station with chaps handing out bottles of whisky. And there was entertainment galore.’20
Mayne and Pleydell had kept in touch since 1943. On 12 February 1945, Pleydell wrote to Mayne, bringing him up to date and asking about members of the unit he knew from the desert days.21 It was in 1945 that Pleydell’s book Born of the Desert was first published. He had kept his notes of his time with the unit and was already giving them some structure. And in the closely interrelated network that had formed over the years, it is not surprising that the publisher was the house of Collins.
Meanwhile, in the spring, interest was rekindled in the idea of SAS troops operating in Norway; 1 SAS would commit about 380 all ranks, and 2 SAS around a similar number. The plan for policing work was much less attractive to the unit than pre-surrender operations, some of which were considered. Planning was completed for Operation Ibrox, in which a group of ten from 2 SAS were to infiltrate by parachute and destroy the Trolledal railway viaduct during the moon period at the end of March, and exfiltrate through Sweden. The group trained and were ready; they stood by at Tain airfield until 4 April, when the operation was postponed, and on 9 April SHAEF cancelled it.22
Mayne’s preference at this time was to keep the regiment active in Jeep operations during the final push into Germany, and Brian Franks took the same view. Franks’ regiment was without Farran’s squadron, which was operating in Italy, so he and Mayne agreed a temporary reallocation of forces which meant that both units could have a presence in Germany. From 1 SAS, A and D Squadrons under the command of Maj Harry Poat, with Majs Bill Fraser, John Tonkin (recently promoted) and Alex Muirhead, went with Franks, while Mayne took B and C Squadrons to serve under II Canadian Corps of 21st Army Group for Operation Howard.
On 6 April, Mayne and his force left Tilbury; he met Calvert at Canadian Headquarters and on 9 April he received his orders from Maj Gen Vokes, General Commanding Officer of 4th Canadian Armoured Division. Vokes’s orders were to pass through the leading Canadian troops when they had established a crossing over the River Ems at Meppen and to ‘penetrate quickly and deeply into the enemy rear areas in the direction of Oldenburg’.23 It was intended that the unit would clear the way for the armour and cause alarm and disorganisation behind enemy lines. Mayne was not tied down to routes and ‘he accepted the task with enthusiasm and alacrity’.24 The speed of advance of the armoured division varied considerably from day to day, depending on the determination of enemy resistance; so, after the briefing, that was the last Gen Vokes heard of Mayne for over forty-eight hours.
For the first time the unit was on German soil and travelled openly in daylight. Radio communications had improved to the extent that the squadrons could speak to one another; but there could also be difficulties in resupplying them if they got too far ahead of the Canadian armoured division. An additional headache was that the terrain, criss-crossed with canals, was not suitable for Jeeps; and there was a great deal of exposure and lack of knowledge about the disposition and strength of the enemy. It was not long before this level of exposure brought them to a point where they were involved in severe fighting. For his actions in one of the engagements, Mayne was recommended for the Victoria Cross.25
The two squadrons were travelling slightly apart; B Squadron, under Maj Bond, was in the lead. A short distance along their line of advance from a crossroads, a collection of three farm buildings lay on their right, with a wooded area behind. The point section of four Jeeps suddenly came under heavy automatic and Panzerfaust fire from two of the buildings closest to the crossroads and from the copse of trees. Those who were able abandoned their Jeeps and crawled to the ditch on the left-hand side of the road, where they were pinned down. Under covering fire from the remaining Jeeps, drawn up at the road junction, two of the forward section managed to crawl back and reported that Maj Bond was dead.
A radio message was sent to Mayne; he arrived in about ten minutes and quickly took in the situation: the enemy positions were strongly held; the nature of the ground meant that he could not outflank the copse to the right, nor could he flank another building and some trees on the left-hand side of the road to get to his forward section. First he went forward alone to the nearest of the group of buildings to ensure that none of the enemy remained in it; then he came back for a Bren gun and magazines, and returned to the corner of the house he had searched, stepped into the open and, from the shoulder, started firing bursts from the Bren into the second of the defended farm buildings. He sustained this attack until he had killed or wounded all in the building, then he called forward a Jeep to take up his fire position. The point section, however, was still pinned down by fire from the copse, so Mayne went to his Jeep and called for a volunteer to man the rear guns. Lt Scott, who had been commissioned the previous September, volunteered. Mayne drove the Jeep along the road directly in front of the defended wooded area. In Scott’s words, ‘He drove up the road past the position where the Squadron Commander had been killed a few minutes previously, giving me cool precise fire orders.’26 Mayne continued driving to where the leading section was pinned down, and beyond that point, with Scott raking the enemy positions the length of the entire run. Throughout, they had been in full view of the enemy. But Mayne then turned the Jeep around and drove back down the road, engaging the enemy until they reached cover. However, the enemy, although sustaining heavy casualties from the Jeep’s Vickers K guns, still maintained an accurate fire on the road, preventing the forward section from being extricated. Mayne turned the Jeep yet again and made a third run, driving under fire, and reached the Jeeps of the leading section. ‘He jumped out of the Jeep giving me orders to continue firing, lifted the wounded out of the ditch, placed them in the Jeep and drove back to the main party.’27 But the sustained firepower of Scott’s guns and the audacity of the action in front of them had had a demoralising effect on the enemy, and they withdrew from their position. Scott’s own actions had been most meritorious, but he nobly summed up his part in terms of being inspired. ‘Throughout the entire action Col Mayne showed a personal courage that it has never before been my privilege to witness.’28
Further heavy fighting was encountered. At one time, the force had 350 prisoners. According to Gen Vokes, th
ey disarmed them all, retained about a hundred of the toughest type, mainly parachute troops, and ‘chased the others back in the general direction of our advance’. But, being at the tip of a long spear, they were vulnerable to encirclement. When this happened, Roy Close remembers Mayne’s speed at absorbing information, assessing the extent of the threat and taking swift and appropriate action.
When we got surrounded in the pine forest, we made a perimeter and put the prisoners in the middle. They claimed they were in danger and weren’t being treated according to the Geneva Convention. Anyway Paddy told them to shut up. The enemy, a German para regiment, I believe, were all around and we were probing to find a way out. We sent out small patrols at different times to look for a way. One particular patrol comprising three or four men went out, but I believe it came back to a different point in our perimeter. Those who were there did not recognise the password, and the patrol suffered what is now known as friendly fire. We all know it happens in war. Two of the chaps got wounded, one very badly. We thought that if he was going to live, he would need more medical attention than we could give. So Paddy sent him out under a white flag together with an officer, Capt Edwards, and sent two prisoners with them to confirm that we held a lot more. He told Edwards to make sure that they did not give our position away.
When they returned, my section had just come back from a patrol and I was near to where Paddy was sitting under a tree. I had told my section to brew up. Edwards went straight to Paddy and told him that he thought one of the prisoners had indicated our position on a map. Paddy said without hesitation, ‘Get everybody on their Jeeps and take as many prisoners as we can and follow me.’ We who were trying to brew up grumbled, having just got back, but quickly got organised. My section, being placed where it was, were last to leave. We hadn’t gone a hundred yards deeper into the woods when the mortar and artillery fire came down on the place where we had been. To my mind, if Paddy had paused a minute longer to think about what Capt Edwards had told him, we would not have got clear.29
The advance elements of the Canadian division caught up with Mayne’s force – who were now running low on ammunition and were out of food – in the area of Esterwegen–Lorup, about thirty miles from Meppen.
On 12 April, Mayne reported the results of the fighting so far. They had lost six Jeeps and several others were badly riddled. Bond and Cooper had been killed, Grierson was wounded – so was Iredale, but he was in a German hospital – while eleven others were missing, believed captured. He added that of the 350 prisoners, they had brought with them about 100 paratroopers. They had destroyed much equipment and had also captured the company’s payroll. He summed up their situation by stating that the country was extremely difficult to work in because of bogs, so they were forced to use main roads. ‘What arrangements are you making to resupply us with specialised stores? We cannot ferry it up for ourselves.’30
Brig Calvert recommended that Mayne should be awarded the VC for his actions in rescuing his men. He submitted signed statements from three officers who witnessed the action: Lt Scott, who manned the rear guns on the Jeep, Lt Locket and Lt Surrey-Dane. In his covering statement to Lt Gen Simonds, General Officer Commanding II Canadian Corps, Calvert refers to the difficulty of assessing the military significance of Mayne’s actions in relation to the overall thrust of the Canadian division.
I enclose a citation for the VC for Paddy Mayne.
I have gone into this thoroughly with his officers and I think it was an outstanding piece of work. One almost expects these things from Paddy. The main point is, however, as to how much it affected the battle. I am not really in a position to say, although I have attempted to do so in the citation. I do not know whether you will agree with me.31
Simonds agreed with him; for Maj Gen Vokes, who had commanded 4th Canadian Armoured Division, also wrote in support of the citation. In his opinion Mayne’s spirited leadership and dash were a most important contribution to the success of the operation. He continued:
I cannot produce any Canadian eyewitnesses to his personal acts of bravery as his force was operating entirely on its own. When visiting his unit, however, I observed the very marked respect and regard in which he was held by his officers and men.
In my opinion this officer is worthy of the highest award for gallantry and leadership.32
The citation for the VC was signed by Brig Calvert, Maj Gen Vokes, Lt Gen Simonds, Gen Crerar, Commander 1st Canadian Army and Field Marshal Montgomery, 21st Army Group. At the level at which decisions on awards were made, ‘VC’ was crossed through and ‘3 Bar DSO’ written beneath.33 The criteria that were applied by those responsible for the final decision are not available for scrutiny. But if overall contribution to the outcome of the battle and independent witnesses are two of the criteria, it is difficult to see that any SAS operation would ever result in the award of the Victoria Cross.
Now, in their interpretation of the action, Bradford and Dillon took the line that since Lt Scott’s name did not appear on the citation, he had been pressured by senior officers. Whether this was so or not is irrelevant. The citation for an award is the finished gloss for public consumption on actions that are often chaotic or confusing when seen from different viewpoints. And Bradford and Dillon seem to have contented themselves by interviewing former officers simply in relation to the wording of the citation; they did not avail themselves of the official records. These show a citation, covering letters from Brig Calvert and Gen Vokes, three accompanying statements signed by Lts Scott, Locket and Surrey-Dane – each with a slightly different perspective on the action, for in Scott’s case he was participating with Mayne – and a sketch map of the location. So the final decision by the assessing officers on the nature of the award was made on the basis of the complete submission, which included, of course, the two caveats that Calvert and Vokes expressed.
In this sort of fighting, arrangements for resupply were crucial. So was the capability of the mechanised support team. McEwan was the REME (Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers) specialist officer with 1 SAS, and by now he was experienced in coping with their needs. But he seemed to have bent the rules and taken two REME personnel who were dedicated to other duties, before Brigade found out. A fizzing message came from Brigade that McEwan had shanghaied them, ‘against direct, direct orders. Return both at once through TAC [Tactical] HQ’.34 Mayne was too experienced a manager to accede swiftly to that order, and he began to deflect the force of Brigade’s stance by replying that the men had volunteered to join SAS and that he was putting them on fourteen days approbation before deciding whether to keep them or have them posted. Back came Maj Baring at Brigade, signalling that these men were not available to volunteer, they were only lent to the unit to prepare the Jeeps, and concluded, ‘High-powered rockets already plentiful. They must return earliest.’ Within six hours, Mayne sent a bland retort to the effect that in terms of an ACI (Army Council Instruction), men ‘cannot be prevented from volunteering for and joining us’. Which brought the swift response, ‘not REME such as these’. However, Mayne stalled long enough to have the benefit of their skills until 1 May.
This does not mean, however, that he was so short-handed that he eased up on his own standards for the unit. He remained as firm on this as during the days of the Special Raiding Squadron when he had returned men to unit singly or in groups. On 16 April he signalled that he had reduced a man to the ranks and was returning him to his unit.
It was Anthony Kemp who first pointed to the lack of credibility of the swashbuckling accounts of this period which appear in Bradford and Dillon’s version of activities in north-west Germany.35 And he was correct: the record is quite categorical about who made the decisions and was in command throughout. Mayne did not adopt a constant roving role, as Bradford and Dillon claimed, nor was he anywhere near Belsen, on 14 April, when the concentration camp was liberated. He was not running a private war; and his chief concern was that his unit was not being used to best advantage.
As the
campaign continued, the terrain, coupled with the enemy’s destruction of bridges, made progress slower and more dangerous. Roy Close described the situation at one stage of the route:
There was a certain element of stress being in the lead Jeep, so we took it in turns to take the lead. On this occasion I was in the lead; we came to a canal where the bridge had been destroyed. The question was had the enemy done it to delay us while they had moved on, or were they under cover on the other side waiting for us to try to get across. I stopped the Jeep some distance from the bank and crawled forward through the grass and searched the opposite bank through my binoculars. I was surveying the other side when I heard an Irish brogue: ‘And can you see anything over there, Roy?’ Then I looked to my side and saw a pair of boots and there was Paddy standing fully upright looking across at the other side. ‘I think you get a better view up here,’ he said.36
Losses of men and equipment had taken their toll, and, in the light of the terrain and the conditions, Mayne formed the troops into one squadron under Tony Marsh. He and Marsh were holding a small bridgehead in advance of the Canadian 4th Armoured Division, who were at Neuvrees, while engineers worked on building a bridge. But Mayne felt that because of canals, blown bridges and mines on tracks and roads there would be poor results and many casualties. He signalled to Poat, who was in command of the unit’s two squadrons, which were operating under Brian Franks to the east, and asked him to send the padre to them at the Canadian division; and he announced that he intended coming across to see Poat shortly, and concluded, ‘This country [is] absolutely bloody to work in. The battle is turning into a slogging match and ourselves into mine detectors.’37 Mayne intended to travel on 16 April, but he was delayed for a day before he went to see Poat, whose force was by now west of Betzendorf with the Inns of Court Regiment, working on the left flank of 11th Division. Mayne’s intentions were twofold: to try to get all squadrons of 1 SAS reunited; and to press for more appropriate work for their skills. Mike Blackman had informed Brigade that Mayne had gone to Poat and he asked that signals for him should be recoded and transmitted to Archway.