The officers reconciled themselves to spending the night upright on the seats next to their drivers, the men disposed themselves in blankets on the lorry floors. Despite the jolting, no one missed much sleep. They woke to find dawn breaking over pleasant green foothills. They brewed their tea and fried their bread and bacon by the roadside in a sheltered valley surrounded by orchards. By mid-day they were on bleaker uplands, and here they were deposited. The lorries turned back.
Taggart took a deep breath; it was not only to savour the pure air. He turned to his officers. ‘Well, that's put some miles between us and the Brigadier. With luck, something will hold him up and he won't be able to drop in on us before we're air-lifted to our jumping off point.’
‘We could always put both the wireless sets U/S and fox him,’ suggested Gosland.
‘He'd have an air recce up in no time: the old blighter would find us whatever we did, unless we burrow like ruddy moles,’ said Stuart wryly.
Taggart laughed. ‘We'll make it as difficult for him to find us as we can.’
The troop marched up into the deserted hills, to a place which had approximately the same contours as Jebel Asad. They made camp, then began rehearsing the attack. Until he had seen the objective in person, Taggart could not make detailed decisions. But they could practise stealthy movement about similar ground, camouflage and the transportation of weapons and equipment. They carried out different methods of assault; ignoring the Brigadier's frontal approach. They did everything but fire live rounds: they did not advertise their presence; and, as it was, they did not know what eyes were watching them and what messages might reach the enemy by devious means. Their first day in the Jebel Akhdar was 5th February, the day that the Battle of Beda Fomm began.
On the next day, the Australians captured Benghazi; while the fighting at Beda Fomm continued fiercely and the British were compelled to give some ground in the face of strong Italian resistance and counter attack.
That evening, Macintosh, who was on duty at the transmitter-receiver, called from the command post to Taggart, who was seated with his officers and senior N.C.Os, awaiting supper, a few yards away.
‘Signal from Brigadier Weatherhead, sir.’
Silence fell over the group.
‘Blast!’ Taggart rose from the ground and went over to the pack set. ‘When is he coming, Macintosh?’
There was a happy grin on Macintosh's face as he handed a signal form to his C.O.
‘What are you looking so pleased about?’ Taggart sounded sour. ‘I didn't know you were a fan of the Brigadier's.’
Then he read the message, smiled, composed his features and rejoined the group. They watched him in gloomy expectancy.
‘I'll read it to you. 'Brigadier Weatherhead unable visit. Proceed as ordered. Will make wireless contact eighth. End of message.'‘ Taggart grinned at the happy faces surrounding him.
The following day, 7th March, while the enemy was surrendering at Beda Fomm, X Troop marched back to the point at which the lorries had left them. The four three-tonners met them punctually and, two hours later, even harder, fitter and more confident than when they had set out for the hills, they were at Gazala. The Hurricanes of Nos 73 and 274 Squadrons were dispersed around it, with two Gladiators and a Lysander on detachment from No 3 (Fighter) Squadron, Royal Australian Air Force, and two Lysanders and a Hurricane from No 208 Army Co-operation Squadron. The wreckage of half a dozen burned out CR42s and Ghibli bombers stood on one side of the airfield.
The Commandos enjoyed hot showers, a hot meal and a night in comfortable beds the Italian Regia Aeronautica had left behind. Long before first light, they emplaned on board four Valentias.
The troop-carriers flew low in the darkness to avoid detection. Dawn found them in the hills to the south-east of Tripoli. By the rapidly increasing daylight the Valentias landed on a plateau that made a shallow basin surrounded on three sides by low ridges. The Commandos hurried from the aeroplanes and unloaded their gear. They began moving off to find shelter in the hills even before the Valentias had begun taxiing to the down-wind end of the makeshift landing ground to take off for their return to Gazala and on to Cairo.
Flying low over the contours, the aircraft would avoid fighter attack and those who saw them from the ground would mistake them for bombers.
X Troop had entered the final phase of Operation Wolf; and were mercifully beyond its originator's reach, except by radio.
Eight hours later, concealed among the rocks and boulders on a ridge which, across a wide wadi, faced Jebel Asad, they saw their objective.
It stood, built of great slabs of grey stone and cement, a large, high rectangular building with a round tower at each corner and over the main gate. It had a mean, defiant air and from the 16th Century, in which it was built, until a few decades ago, it must have been impregnable. Despite modern artillery and bomber aircraft, it still looked capable of withstanding heavy attacks for many days. The original structure had been added to and there was a large cement-surfaced vehicle park on its western side.
‘It's big enough to hold a battalion,’ said Taggart. ‘The half-company in there must rattle around like a fistful of peas in a big drum. They'll have a hell of a job to hold it.’
Despite Fort Jebel Asad's grim and solid appearance, he felt that the task would be lighter than he had expected: too few defenders to hold so big a structure.
There was, however, an unpleasantly good field of fire all round, and the only approaches which afforded some concealment would be difficult to negotiate.
Taggart looked at Gosland and Stuart. ‘It's got some obvious weaknesses, but it's no piece of cake, either. A fair enough objective for a Commando raid. It would need a hell of a lot of ordinary infantry, tanks, guns and bombers to knock it out.’
‘Seize and ravage? That?’ Stuart whispered. Voices carried far in those hills. ‘Leave it dust and rubble? Better signal for an air drop of a ton or two more H.E.’
‘The Brig will be satisfied if we leave it knee-high.’ Taggart sounded cynical. ‘As long as the entire garrison is buried under it. That, we can guarantee.’
I wish I could convince myself, he thought. How the hell are we going to winkle 'em all out? We can break in, all right. But there's bags of room in that damn great place for an entire half-company to hide.
SIX
The ground on all sides of the fort offered cover only from a few rocks and boulders, and shrubs that grew no higher than four feet. The slope of the hill, from whichever direction one climbed it, was steep. The huge area of the vehicle park, which was empty, allowed no concealment.
Taggart, scrutinising the area through field glasses, said, ‘It looks to me as though this is intended to be a base for operations in the hills and desert on a big scale. There's a good depth of concrete on that yard, and room for a regiment of tanks and another of armoured cars. The garrison transport wouldn't amount to more than a couple of lorries and a scout car. They must be inside.’
Floodlights around the walls were well positioned to illuminate the surroundings. The planned night attack would be as well lit as if by day: until they shot out the lights. Some would be put out of action by the explosives intended to bring the walls down.
The silence in this uninhabited region had an eerie quality; enhanced by the full realisation, at last, of the magnitude of the undertaking.
Into the stillness a familiar drone began to infiltrate: quietly, at first, then growing rapidly louder as a twin-engined Ghibli bomber came in view low over the highest hilltops. It had appeared from the direction of Tripoli and was flying towards the plateau on which X Commando had been deposited.
‘Heads down!’ Taggart's whispered command passed quickly among the rest. They lay prone and still.
Gosland was on Taggart's right, MacIntosh on the left, with Stuart next to him. Taggart eased himself round and swept the sky with his binoculars.
‘It's a search, all right. The aircraft is turning and it looks as though it's making a definit
e pattern: creeping line ahead or square search, I think.’ He looked intently beyond the Ghibli. ‘There's another, a few miles further south-east.’
‘What did I tell the Brig?’ Stuart murmured. ‘Bedouin all over the place. Someone heard and saw the Valentias and sold the information to the Italians.’
The Senussi Arab tribes of Libya moved in groups of twenty or so families, ranging far and wide with their flocks of goats and sheep from pasture to pasture. Camels bore their black, goatskin tents. Some of them had horses, others travelled on foot. They were ubiquitous; and without intentionally concealing themselves, the colours of their dwellings and garments blended with the country: they were difficult to see. In any event, there had been barely enough light for the aircraft to land. There was not a chance that any of the Commandos could have spotted the presence of an Arab.
‘I wonder if they'll send out patrols from the fort?’ Gosland said.
Taggart turned towards Stuart. ‘What d'you think, Angus? How much credence would the enemy put in a report from some Arab who told such an unlikely story? Would they think he'd made it up for the sake of the money?’
‘It's unlikely. They have a nasty way with locals who make fools of them. On the other hand, it would take a bit of. swallowing: a yarn about the R.A.F. landing and taking off again, so far from the Front. Let alone a claim that troops had been off-loaded.’
‘I'll stay here with my H.Q. unit. The rest of you move back.’ Taggart unfolded a map and pointed out two positions on ridges either side of a wadi. ‘If a patrol comes out, we'll lie doggo. If we're spotted, we'll pull out and lead the Wops into an ambush. I hope that doesn't happen, because it'll muck everything up.’
Watching the main body of the troop retire, with only Vowden, Corporal Owen, MacIntosh and Jorrocks for company, Taggart felt bereft and vulnerable. Above all, he felt anxious about discovery; but it was important to stay and keep the fort under close observation.
Waiting, sweating with the sun on his back and the heat radiating from the rocks, while Corporal Evans and Jorrocks logged the passing military traffic on the coast road some distance away, from another vantage point, he saw the sun glinting on the windscreens of a small convoy of lorries and presently was able to hear their engines.
They slowed as they approached a narrow road which led to the fort. He saw them turn onto it. Was this a large search party coming to hunt them down? He wished he had wireless communication with the two men watching the main road traffic; to recall them and prepare to withdraw deep into the hills.
His discomfort increased when the lorries drew up on the yard beside the fort. A tall Italian captain with his left arm in a sling descended from the cab of the leading vehicle. Other officers and troops alighted and fell in. Their uniforms were sun-bleached and battle-stained, and there was the bearing and movement of good soldiers about them. They looked shabby, obviously straight from the Front, but their drill was smart as they paraded and marched off the yard towards the gate of the fort, which had been opened for them.
Taggart counted 150 troops, plus six officers. A whole company. Mentally he shrugged. So what? It would be as easy to blow the fort up with 156 men in it as with half that number. X Troop had more than enough fire power to deal with the survivors. Nonetheless, the arrival of the contingent suggested that the Commandos’ presence was suspected.
In a short while, a half-company of slovenly soldiers, led by a middle-aged captain, slouched out of the fort and clambered aboard the lorries; which then drove off towards Tripoli.
If the new arrivals had come to find X Troop, they looked the sort who would waste no time about it.
Taggart whispered ‘Go and fetch the other two, Macintosh. We'll pull out and join the rest of the troop. Sergeant Major, hang on here as long as you can, with Jorrocks, and see what they're up to. Don't take any chances. If a party comes this way, or moves off in a direction that would cut you off, come back to our R.V. at once.
When Cororal Evans and Jorrocks had been fetched, Taggart, with Evans and Macintosh, moved stealthily away to the troop's rendez-vous.
It was not long before Vowden and Jorrocks followed them.
‘It looks as though they're getting ready to defend the fort, sir,’ Vowden reported. ‘They've sent out squads to clear away the camel thorn bushes and they're using flame-throwers as well as mattocks. Must be in a hurry to improve their field of fire.’
‘Seems as though we were spotted. Those aircraft were looking for us, after all.’ Taggart looked at his watch. ‘The Brigadier's due to make wireless contact in two hours. He won't be pleased when he hears that the secret landing he planned was seen by some Arab who sold the gen to the enemy. And he'll gnash his teeth when I report the change in the garrison; because he can't be here! Those chaps look as though they could put up quite a fight; and there's nothing he likes better.’
The raid was to be made in the small hours of 10th February. A little more than 60 hours remained in which to glean local information and perhaps find a secure hiding place. If the hunt for them really was up, they had little hope of remaining concealed for another two full days. The Italians had ample air strength to saturate the sky over the area with searching bombers and fighters.
They've got damn all else to do, Taggart thought contemptuously. They don't do much bombing or fighting.
There was no lack of troops to mount a hunt that could comb the hills. Taggart had thought with equal disdain of the quality of the hunters. It would be like jackals seeking tigers: an unlikely event, and one in which the hunters would be frightened of their quarry.
Sixty Commandos, on ground like this, could deal with a battalion of Italians. It would be a different matter if they were up against Jerry. But Germany had not even approached as near to North Africa as Greece; yet.
The Luftwaffe had been bombing Malta from bases in Sicily for weeks; but there was no Intelligence report of any imminent arrival of Army units in Libya.
Having seen the bearing of the relief garrison in the fort, and the self-assurance with which the company commander conducted himself, he was not sure that these deserved the scorn that the British armed forces automatically showed for the Italian Army, Navy and Air Force.
Anyway, he thought, they may be better than the average; they could even be the best troops the Ities have got: but let the bloody Wops have a go at us. It might interfere with the timing of the raid, but it won't stop us.
He led his troop to an escarpment a mile from the fort, which he had noted that morning. There was a deep cave below the crest, which would give good concealment. By closing the entrance with bushes and blankets, they could safely light their small solid fuel cookers. There were useful crags around it where sentries could be posted.
While waiting for their evening meal, Taggart encoded a signal to the Brigadier. The Brigadier's signals from Cairo would be relayed by the most westerly units of the British advance, which had almost reached El Agheila. Taggart's messages would be similarly relayed eastward.
The aroma of cooking was always heartening after a long day in the field. From the desert-hardened troops, X Troop had learned to pound their thick biscuits to powder, add a little water and thus make a batter in which to fry slices of bully beef. They had dates and dried fruit. There was plenty of tea. And Sergeant Randall had his araq.
The sentries reported no movement outside the fort. The clearing of the ground was continuing by the glare of the floodlights. Taggart went to have a look and was unpleasantly impressed by the strength and intensity of the illumination.
‘They wouldn't dare switch them on if the R.A.F. were within striking range. They soon will be.’
The signal from the Brigadier said ‘Proceed according to plan.’ And, when Taggart had informed him of local events, there was a reply. ‘Investigate. Enemy assembling El Agheila. Doubt that good troops would be sent back to search. Will investigate this end.’
Showing the decoded signal to Gosland and Stuart, Taggart said ‘Obstinate old de
vil won't admit the Valentias were probably seen and reported. As for investigating all the way back in Cairo: he'll pester the Intelligence Staff, and they'll try to find out from the units at the sharp end whether there's any evidence of some good Italian battalion having been withdrawn. I'm going to send my spies in tomorrow.’
He was reasoning that they had seen only two search aircraft: which could mean that these had not been seeking X Troop. It could also mean that a considerable air search had been going on out of sight, far to the east, where the Valentias had landed; and that the troops from the fort would sweep their immediate vicinity. There was no comfort in that, with two more daylight periods to survive; especially as he wanted to scour the area himself, to determine absolutely the best means of attack.
He was aware of his own tendency to rush into things. He blamed himself for lives under his command that had been lost on the retreat from France, when he had made brave, but impetuous, stands against superior numbers. He did not intend to ignore the lessons of experience.
Intelligence had done well for X Troop: not only in providing Libyan money, but also a list of the Italian Order of Battle in the various recent engagements, so that Corporal Lewis and Cassola could talk convincingly about them. They had produced a list of the units based in the Tripoli area. They had supplied two Italian uniforms, and Arab clothes for Kulick.
Taggart sent for these three.
‘I'm sending you into Tripoli tomorrow. Find out what you can about the new garrison at the fort. What sort of man is their C.O.? Where have they come from? What is their fighting record? Why has the garrison been doubled? Why has the old mob of deadbeats been replaced by troops who at least look as though they can fight? Are there any rumours of British troops having infiltrated as far as this? Are there any rumours of further strengthening of the garrison? Try to get into conversation with chaps from their airfield, and learn what you can about air searches being made. You know your cover stories. Let's hear them. Corporal Lewis?’
Seize and Ravage Page 7