XD Operations

by C Brazier

  The weekly ceremony of the Keys was a never failing source of interest. The battalions of the garrison took it in turn to provide the band and escort to the Keys; the Independent Company provided a frontier guard. After inspection by the governor or another officer appointed by him, the frontier guard marched through the casemates to their posts, and the gates were then closed and ‘locked’ by the Keys sergeant. The arrival of the sergeant at the gate is always challenged by the sentry, and the traditional dialogue is then,

  ‘Who goes there’?

  ‘Keys.’

  ‘Whose Keys’?

  ‘King George’s Keys.’

  Rumour has it that on one occasion before the sergeant could reply to the latter question, a wit in the crowd convulsed his fellow onlookers by interjecting loudly ‘Maconochies’! It should be remembered that in wartime the garrison menu comes very largely out of tins bearing that trade name and so is well known to all ordinary soldiers of two major wars.

  Sergeant Blake, who was awarded a Military Medal at Rotterdam, was walking down a street one day when the Commander-in-Chief, Field Marshal Lord Gort VC, was approaching. Blake chucked him up a smart salute, as the soldiers would say, and the Field Marshal spotted his MM. He stopped and had quite a long conversation with him. Later, during an inspection on one parade in which the sapper officers and NCOs were fallen in as supernumeraries at the back, the Governor, Lord Gort, spotted Sergeant Blake again and going up to him said, ‘I know you’. He then carried on with their previous conversation. It took Sergeant Blake a long time to live down his acquaintance with a Field Marshal in the Sergeants’ Mess.

  Baker signalled the War Office to report the completion of their work and request permission to rejoin their unit in Northern Ireland. After a week or two of waiting and considerable negotiations, prompted no doubt by a homing instinct acquired during previous adventures on the Dutch and French seaboard, the party received the order for embarkation. This was a great day, for in spite of the many friends and enjoyable experiences, a man without a definite job is a poor creature. So it was that at last they said goodbye having disproved the wartime adage ‘once at Gib – always at Gib’, and sailed in a small steamer in company with other details. As fellow passengers there were British officers who had escaped from the Hun in France and made their way back through Spain. They told tales of Spanish prisons, vermin, starvation, Gestapo, misery and suffering; also of many months of hard living after the escape before their delivery was accomplished.

  Finally our men arrived back in their unit lines four months after leaving, with a tan the colour of mahogany and no funds in credit, only to face a barrage of chaff about their ‘tough’ mission away from wartime Britain.

  Chapter Fifteen

  GREECE

  It was during the time that we were still in England that Major Bert West and I left for a few days. That the officer concerned commanded the company next in turn for a ‘job’, did not escape the notice of the others, and as may be imagined, our departure was generally accepted to portend that something was in the air. By this time the prelude to these parties was beginning to be understood and accepted as part of the ordinary life of the unit. What was expressed by knowing glances exchanged in the Officers’ Mess and, maybe a wink and a nod in the Sergeants’ Mess, found more concrete expression when a sapper would let up on his task and confide to his work mates that ‘another job was coming off soon’.

  Hence it came about that shortly after our return on a cold winter’s day towards the end of 1940, West and six officers with a fairly large contingent left their training ground under orders for a certain port of embarkation. West had sealed orders, which would only be opened on arrival at their destination, prior to reporting ashore to a certain senior officer. Accordingly they boarded one of HM troopships with certain familiar war-like stores and equipment, without any idea that they were to take part in the last act of what has now come to be regarded as an epic struggle against overwhelming odds.

  The troopship left dock at midday, moving out into the stream until the late afternoon, when she weighed anchor and put to sea in convoy with two other vessels, escorting destroyers, cruisers, an aircraft carrier and planes of Coastal Command. The sea was best described as ‘winter north Atlantic’ and all were soon in heavy weather; the destroyers appeared to be getting a tremendous dusting in their endeavour to keep station with the larger ships. After several days steaming without event on a southerly course, speculation as to their destination was narrowing down, so that when a town was seen on the port bow, ablaze with lights, Spain became a fairly safe bet. The following morning found them at Gibraltar.

  Spirits fell as the rumour of garrison duty gained currency, but rose again when the party was not allowed to land. Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday passed at the anchorage without orders, but on Monday morning at 3.30 a.m. they were turned out of their bunks, paraded on deck and split into two. This mystified officers and men alike, until they were told that they would meet again at the other end. At this stage the officer commanding handed over a duplicate set of orders to his second-in-command and an hour later half the contingent transferred to HM cruiser Southampton with the remainder going to the cruiser Manchester.

  It was 7.00 a.m. when they weighed anchor and headed out on an easterly course into the Mediterranean. On the assumption that they would not pass through the Suez Canal, the geography of the trip was by now narrowed down to one of several possibilities.

  During the first day at sea the weather became pleasantly warmer and life seemed a lot brighter than during their time in the Atlantic. Shortly after leaving, the senior captain made a signal to the convoy that as his primary objective was to get the soldiers through without loss, if he fell in with enemy forces, he would therefore take evasive action.

  On Wednesday morning at 11.00 a.m. enemy ships were sighted in force and all military and air force details, other than the senior military and Air Force officer on each cruiser, were ordered below decks.

  Commenting afterwards upon the captain’s tactics, Major West vowed that his idea of evasive action was true to form, i.e. to go full speed ahead in the direction of the enemy! Both forces were closing at high speed until, at 12.40 p.m., the enemy opened fire and both cruisers were straddled by the opening salvoes. Having lived with coast defence gunners, where after bracketing the target the third shell usually gets home, the soldiers felt convinced that they were for it this time. But apparently this is not the drill with Italian gunnery. The cruisers opened with their 6-inch forward guns; the Southampton making her mark on a destroyer which was crippled and went down. Early in the action Southampton’s forward ammunition hoist was out of action and the sappers were put on manhandling shells up to the gun which gave them a thrill, even if their hands were sore afterwards!

  Both sides continued to close in and a fairly heavy general engagement was soon in progress. That grand old ship of such fame, so often sunk by propaganda – Ark Royal – was in the convoy and during the battle a returning aircraft reported damage to an enemy battleship and also a cruiser.

  By this time all ships, destroyers, cruisers and battleships alike were firing furiously and aircraft from the Ark Royal were joining in the general mêlée.

  During an action a broadcast is made throughout the ship as to what is happening, chiefly for the benefit of the engine room staff and others below decks. In Southampton, this opened with the encouraging remark that if it was not ‘guns before butter it was at least shells before lunch’. The enemy was referred to as the Imperial Italian Navy until at 1.15 p.m. when they broke off the action and fled; the commentator then announced ‘The ruddy wops have had enough’.

  Meanwhile the two cruisers of the Royal Navy put up a terrific chase going flat out in order to force a conclusive action upon an unwilling foe. This left the heavies behind and before long the destroyers were forging ahead of the cruisers in pursuit; the last salvoes were fired from the latter ships at about 1.30 p.m.

  S
oon after this the humorous broadcaster came on the air again and announced ‘a warning to our army friends aboard that Mussolini will most certainly be annoyed when he hears of the Italian “victory” so be prepared for air attack!’ This turned out to be a very fair appreciation for at 5.00 p.m. forty enemy bombers came into sight. They made a bee line for Ark Royal which was by now on the starboard quarter of Southampton. The bombs fell round her and clouds of spray, rising again and again, shut her from view. Fighters literally weaved their way in and out of the bombers and engaged them with much success. After several had been shot down, the remainder followed the tactics of their ships and beat it for ‘sunny Italy’ and safety. A few hours’ peace ensued in which the convoy again took station and continued its passage eastwards. Writing in his diary one of the officers jotted down a few lines from Omar Khayyam, ‘the dogs do bark, but the caravan moves on’. This just about expresses the position in a few words and might have been written for the occasion.

  However, the Italians certainly tried even if their efforts were not crowned with success, for that same night just after dark, a torpedo attack was staged by enemy submarines. Fortunately they had no more success than their fleet or air force. All the same, it was generally agreed that they had had a fairly full day, with enough adventures for the most sanguine of the party.

  The following morning found the Southampton and Manchester in company with the Mediterranean fleet steaming in battle formation, held by our party to be the most inspiring spectacle of their experience either before or since. There they were, as far as the eye could reach, a challenge to the Italian assertion of ‘mare nostrum’. Passing Malta in the morning, one of the troopships left the convoy and headed for that celebrated bastion of sea power, the remainder steaming on eastwards. On Friday the two cruisers carrying our party, after exchanging signals, left the fleet and steamed southwards towards Alexandria, arriving there in the early morning of the following day. After a brief spell the sapper party exchanged ships and, having transferred all personnel and stores, took passage for Piraeus.

  Soon after landing in Greece, one of the largest staff cars imaginable drove up and disgorged a ‘brass hat’, complete with field boots and spurs, red gorgets and several rows of decorations. He was from the British Military Mission and he announced that the party would become part of the British force that had landed. This resulted in West being taken off to see the senior British Commander. Here the sapper mission was explained and for the meantime, they found themselves quartered in the Hotel Acropolis. The next day another staff officer arrived and said that their first job would be to install electric bells in the place. After having travelled some thousands of miles and having had a conducted passage through a naval battle, this seemed a complete anti-climax and hardly their primary role. As West remarked afterwards,

  I shall never forget the look on the CSM’s face when I told him to detail the men for our first job ashore – his only remark was ‘Coo’. He might well have said more and expressed less.

  Complications ensued over explosives; for some reason or other they had not arrived in the stores ship, which necessitated an officer being flown back to Alexandria via Crete. In due course, however, the demolition stores turned up.

  The next job which fell to them was the preparation of camp sites for the incoming British troops. Meanwhile several of the officers attired in plain clothes of approved local cut and style, worked their way up country and reconnoitred the objectives.

  Shortly after this a demolition school was opened for Greek officers, to enable them to delay the enemy by spreading the doctrine and practice of a scorched earth policy. They were apt pupils and became firm friends. Our party conceived during the bitter struggle which followed, the highest admiration for the Greek soldiers and civilians alike, particularly the Evzones; the highlanders of that ancient race. When the time came near, West, the OC party, found himself in command of a steam yacht, complete with crew, his officers and men, explosives and stores and under orders to deny the enemy the use of certain installations and port facilities. Before leaving, Major West was also given instructions by the senior naval officer, an admiral, to carry out certain tasks in connection with the port and its shipping and to use his initiative as the situation might demand. Finally, with signal details and a wireless transmitter aboard, they steamed out of Piraeus harbour and up the coast towards Salonika.

  The background to this deployment of our detachment was complicated. The Italians had attacked the Greeks from Albania but had suffered a humiliating reverse. Hitler came to the assistance of his Italian ally by invading Yugoslavia to enable him to reach Greece. Britain had a treaty with Greece and was in the process of sending three divisions there to support the Greek forces should the Germans invade. They were taking up a position hinged on Mount Olympus, halfway across the country but south of the wide northern coastal strip, which was considered indefensible with the resources available. However this coastal strip contained the large port of Salonika and it was to there that most of our party was dispatched well away from the main British Force.

  While at sea they were picked up by a solitary Stuka which made three attempts to knock a hole in the vessel. Fortunately they escaped and, apart from a single Messerschmitt that sprayed them with machine-gun fire, they arrived at Salonika without casualties.

  Once at the port, West contacted the British Consul and also a naval officer and put them in the picture. He conveyed his instructions, both naval and military, and outlined the future course of contemplated action. Several British ships were loading in the docks and their captains were instructed to expedite the work and to sail as soon as possible.

  At this juncture there was trouble with the crew of the yacht due, no doubt, to the hazards of their previous passage, so they were paraded ashore and addressed through the medium of an interpreter. They were a mixed bag, the captain being a white Russian, the mate a Greek, with a Maltese bosun and a Russian engineer. The remainder of the hands were drawn from various Levantine countries. All our officers were dressed as Greek civilians and most of the sappers were in battledress, so it was a picturesque parade, if not up to the normal standard. The only common factor among the assembly was hatred of the Hun; developing this theme in an address, West made some impression as eventually all said they wished to die rather than forsake the cause. As there seemed a very fair chance of their wish being granted in the near future, it did not take much persuasion to get the crew aboard again.

  During the next period much had to be done in order to get accurate information on all the objectives, entailing many tiresome journeys by launch, steamer, in cars, mule cart and on foot. About the middle of March they had all their plans complete and stores spread around the various objectives, but apart from their primary mission, they had many incidental tasks in the common cause. An amusing discovery was that the title ‘naval officer’ was an emergency measure only; in point of fact, he was a local resident working on our side, the only thing nautical about him being his disguise!

  One of the many urgent jobs undertaken was the purchase of £15,000 of tools and stores likely to be useful to the Army. This included such items as steam rollers, timber, etc. and our side found themselves in competition with German agents doing much the same thing. This was a sticky job, usually conducted with libations of local wine, an armed escort and a rear party to keep an eye on the opposition.

  At the end of March the swastika was still flying outside the German consulate in Salonika, although the situation was tense and street fights were fairly common. At this period all our officers put on uniform and the men were given shore leave, which steadied the situation a bit in the town. Up till then their only recreation had been swimming and sailing in the bay.

  About this time Greek base HQ was about five miles north of Salonika and our Allies were holding the enemy pressure. Meanwhile other Allied forces were digging in around Mount Olympus, about sixty miles to the rear. Contact was established with the British liaison
officer who was with the forward Greek HQ and twice daily an intelligence report was collected by an officer. The liaison officer then sent an urgent message by dispatch rider stating that there was nothing between the enemy and Salonika, as they were evacuating present positions. A request was also made that our party should take the dispatch rider with them, as there was little prospect of his being able to rejoin his unit.

  Eventually the enemy put in a sustained attack on the forward positions, forcing the pace with overwhelming air power, which resulted in the OC of the sappers receiving an urgent summons to the new Greek HQ. When he arrived he was informed that the Germans had broken through in several places and the situation was obscure and deteriorating rapidly. He was instructed to be prepared to destroy anything of value to the enemy, using his own initiative and to get the Consul and his party away.

  By now all our men were on their objectives and the stage was set for the final scene. The OC arranged for the Consul and his staff to be evacuated by the same steam yacht in which they had come up from Piraeus while the sappers commandeered two caiques for their own use. Air raids over the city became more frequent and fierce in intensity, mainly directed against the civilian residential quarters of the town, but in the absence of enemy land forces, the sappers held their hand in the hope that the tide of war would turn. Where the help could come from was not apparent, but it was just a chance. Then signs of increasing fifth column activity, and the evil weapon of rumour became manifest, which could only portend one thing. At this stage they made wireless contact with Athens and received the information that the whole position was obscure. The signal ended with ‘Act on your own initiative in face of enemy – Good Luck’.