The Troops in Borneo were reinforced with infantry detachments and Lawrence Smith was tickled by having an officer under his command, ‘a good lad’. They patrolled their areas as usual, supervised the building of landing-points and defended bases, and evolved a drill called ‘Step-Up’ for quickly deploying infantry by helicopter should an incursion be detected by the SAS or their retainers. But Troop Headquarters were always in their bases near the airstrips and felt that they were being misemployed; the Indonesians were known to be building up their strength, but the SAS were not allowed to get involved.
The first thing that happened was Malaysia Day on 16 September, a United Nations team having visited Sabah and Sarawak and reported that most of the people wanted the Federation. Ray England watched the celebrations at Long Semado which were jolly but less than fervant; a good excuse for a day off, certainly, with some polite flag-waving encouraged by the local government officer and the schoolmaster, but the people made it clear that they wished the British were staying.
The Indonesian capital Djakarta was a more exciting place to observe the impact of Malaysia’s inauguration. It happened that the SAS was represented here in the person of Major Muir Walker as British Military Attache. Soekarno’s propaganda about British neo-colonial perfidy in sponsoring Malaysia had fomented tension in the city, and the communists incited a crowd of students to hurl abuse at the inmates of the British Embassy and stones at its windows (of which it was officially noted for guidance in future embassy design that there were far too many).
That was nothing out of the ordinary; but the mood changed ominously when Walker seized an offensive weapon, bagpipes, and marched, skirling, through the hail of missiles in SAS uniform with inflammatory composure and, doubtless, phlegm. The crowd could not endure it and became a mob, rushing into the city with frenzied cries of ‘Death to the imperialist old-established forces’ and ‘Crush Malaysia’, there to whip itself into a state of ‘amok’ and return two days later with enhanced fervour and fury. The embassy was stormed, sacked and burnt while the staff looked on, murmuring with well-bred disdain that somebody really ought to stand up to these people.
A strong anti-colonial feeling existed among ordinary Indonesians and it was exploited by Soekarno. He refused to recognize Malaysia, and this time the hot air was accompanied by a determined military raid against, of all places, Long Jawai, where Stainforth’s SAS patrol had not been replaced.
The SAS were most unhappy at not still being there; perhaps they would have fared no better than the six men of the 1/2nd Goorkha Rifles, three policemen and 21 Border Scouts who were attacked without warning by a 150-strong enemy force, but it had been their place and they felt they should have stood by it. The defenders fought extremely bravely, five being killed including the two signallers so that the survivors had to trek through the jungle for four days to pass the word. The battalion’s counterattack by helicopter to well-chosen cut-off points ahead of the retiring enemy was a model of jungle skill applied with ruthless determination, and the Indonesians suffered heavily; but something seemed to have gone disturbingly wrong with hearts and minds, for the enemy had infiltrated the village two days before attacking, and not a soul, villager or Border Scout, had dared breathe a word to the Gurkhas. The lesson was thus rammed home; win hearts as you may by being thoroughly nice guys, minds will be overridingly influenced by force majeure when the choice is between life and death. The locals must be shown beyond all doubt that it was the British who had it. In practical terms the rapid reinforcement of isolated patrols by infantry was vital psychologically as well as tactically, and training for it was intensified.
Lieutenant-Colonel John Woodhouse was in the habit of writing to all SAS wives from time to time, trusting them with more information about their husbands than was vouchsafed to other civilians. The trust was never misplaced; SAS men tended to marry girls with comparable intelligence and courage who knew what they were taking on and were prepared to endure it. Many found that when their men were on operations it was more loving to keep them in the back of their minds, instead of in the front and suffering constant and useless anxiety; and that also helped them to avoid the terrifying risk of letting slip sensitive information and endangering their precious lives. ‘Where’s your husband?’ a neighbour might ask. ‘I don’t know’ had to be the reply, normal and understood in wartime, but this was so-called peace and the reaction was often clear though unspoken, ‘Ah, another marriage breaking up.’ Life could be hard, but everything possible was done to make the wives feel part of the Regiment.
What the wives most wanted to know was when the men were coming home. It was Woodhouse’s atrocious luck to send his letter after Long Jawai had been attacked but before the news had reached headquarters; he told them that ‘A’ Squadron would be home for Christmas and that ‘D’ was unlikely to be going out again. Prudence and precedent suggest that foretelling the future of military operations should be left to astrologers, but that, if it must be done, any reference to Christmas is best omitted.
Also in September there was a small incursion south of Bareo in 2 Troop’s area. Although they did not themselves make contact, their previous groundwork and tracking enabled the infantry to catch the raiders. Otherwise all was quiet on the SAS front, irritatingly because reports were continuous of Indonesian activities elsewhere, and Dodd constantly urged more profitable employment for his Squadron. By the beginning of November, General Walker was quite certain that things were going to happen, telling the SAS he would not release them before the end of the year and probably not then; he went further, to their delight, and recommended officially that their overall strength must be increased if they were to fulfil their role in Borneo.
3 Troop rejoined and the Squadron was largely redeployed, partly to the Third Division, where they discovered a large enemy camp on the border from which the Long Jawai attack had been mounted. In Sabah, Lawrence Smith and 4 Troop were put in to walk the Gap again, this time from east to west and much more as a fighting patrol in case the enemy had infiltrated; they were also to cut, landing-points. It was a less pleasant trip than Lillico’s; navigation worries, the resupply aircraft not always finding them, perpetual alertness with heavy packs in what should be re-emphasized was dauntingly rugged country, felling jungle giants with hand-axes, and a sense that the Haunted House was preoccupied with other things, made it much more of a strain. Any trace of the enemy would have been stimulating, but there was none, and moments of light relief were rare.
The animals still came out to watch, however; including another big python which hung motionless from a branch, as pythons do when waiting for something to turn up, and looked as like a small tree as an elephant’s leg though of the sort blotched with many-coloured lichens so common in the jungle. Half the patrol walked by at arm’s length without noticing, but an Iban was not deceived and lunged with his ‘parang’; the snake resented that and letting go the end, coiled, reared, and launched itself at great speed in the direction of Sergeant Maurice Tudor, the Troop commander. From the latter’s viewpoint, the mouth, so small when closed but now unhinged, agape, huge and full of backward slanting teeth was raised four feet and, advancing rapidly like an advertisement for a horror movie towards which one is remorselessly carried by an escalator, expanded to fill his universe. He so far forgot himself as to scream before diving sideways, and his loyal band laughed immoderately as the SAS do when one of their number encounters misfortune, even their superior officer.
Preoccupation at headquarters concerned the enemy. During 4 Troop’s six-week journey through the Gap, the Indonesians concentrated substantial numbers of troops along the border to the west of them as far as the Kelabit Highlands. In the Tawau district to the east, there were strong indications of an imminent assault, but no SAS were deployed there.
There was also the matter of ‘Home by Christmas’. ‘A’ Squadron were decidedly tired and a shade edgy, occasioned by unremitting exertion at frustrating jobs that achieved little. This showed
itself in a way that might seem surprising, but was really to be expected of any good unit. Woodhouse sought to fulfil his promise to the wives by proposing to bring home at least the married men, and that was received with an angry, ‘No way!’ – from the married men. In the event, the turnover from ‘A’ Squadron to ‘D’ was achieved in relays, with a, fair proportion of both home for Christmas or Hogmanay, according to race. Woodhouse himself came to Borneo and spent the holiday in the jungle, attached to a patrol, because he could not have borne to be anywhere else.
During the changeover, a large body of Indonesians attacked Kalabakan, up-country from Tawau, defeated an outpost of the Royal Malay Regiment and were themselves almost wiped out by the 1/10th Gurkhas; but the SAS had no part.
So ended an irksome tour, not least for Bill Dodd who, nevertheless, did a, significant service to the Regiment by ensuring that ‘D’ Squadron would immediately be deployed where they could use their skills to best effect, in the most rugged and isolated parts of the threatened border.
CHAPTER 5
‘CONTACT’
‘D’ Squadron’s Second Tour, December 1963 to April 1964
Border areas sufficiently threatened, isolated and rugged to be suitable for the SAS were the Third Division of Sarawak, Sabah south of Pensiangan, the Kelabit Highlands and, between the last two, the uninhabited Long Pa Sia Bulge where Sabah, Sarawak and Kalimantan met, and Brunei was but 25 miles behind. Lieutenant-Colonel John Woodhouse told Roger Woodiwiss to detect, report and track incursions as his first priority; his second being to help the infantry intercept, both on the enemy’s way in (to thwart his purpose) and on his way out (to inflict condign punishment). Landing-points and cut-off tracks were to be cleared, and the infantry met and guided into ambush positions; but extreme care must be taken never to risk chance encounters with friendly forces.
High jungle skill and nerve are needed to track an enemy force, because one must constantly move towards it, and to move in the jungle where hiding is so easy is to ask for trouble. True, the enemy must also move to fulfil his mission, but he would have rest periods when his men would melt into ambush, as they would do at any sign of abnormality. It was to mitigate the potentially dire effect on a four-man patrol of meeting such a force unexpectedly that Woodhouse devised the ‘Shoot-and-Scoot’ standard operating procedure. Finally, one had to be able to extract every scrap of information from tracks once found.
The ‘old Malayan Sergeants’ were well up to the task, and three of them commanded patrols in the Bulge: ‘Smokey’ Richardson, Eddie Lillico and Bob Creighton. Opposing them were no fewer than three Indonesian battalions based in and around Long Bawan, and behind them the 1st Battalion, Royal Leicestershire Regiment stood ready to pounce. Woodhouse spent some days with Creighton in the River Morning area and told him that this was where the enemy would come; Woodhouse had a nose for such things.
THE ADMIRABLE CREIGHTON
The enemy came, and on 22 January Creighton spotted their tracks leading north. The discovery resulted from the SAS practice of patrolling parallel to the border and keeping constantly on the move, which was all they could do without locals to help. It might seem as though their chances of finding anything over a six-mile front were slim, yet although a single individual walking delicately could indeed be almost undetectable, greater numbers offered compensations. The jungle floor is rarely thick with leaves which, there being no seasons, are shed throughout the year, but comparatively few at a time, and those are then tidied away by armies of ants or rotted by fungi. It is thus unusual for the cover to be more than one leaf thick and footprints tend to show clearly, the earth being nearly always moist. A body of men following each other soften the ground further, and prints show better. Someone is bound to kick and mark a rotten log, snap a twig or bruise a leaf, even if he avoids committing a disciplinary offence like dropping a toffee paper, and a track is formed.
Creighton’s first reaction was to freeze, with every sense alert. As far as he knew, the tracks might have been freshly made with whoever had made them still close by. Having been quiet for several minutes, he listened carefully to the insect noises, which always diminished when men were moving; no sign there, nor did any man-made smell hang in the still air. He checked also that the cobwebs suspended horizontally across the track were still intact. Now he could relax a, little, though not much because a track once used could be used again in either direction. He placed his three men in ambush, told his signaller to make an initial report, and he himself observed and interpreted every clue, but without leaving any sign that he had done so.
Some prints were of bare feet, but many were booted and of a pattern; soldiers, without a doubt – no one else wore boots in the jungle – and heavily laden ones, for they trod deeply. How many? Creighton looked for a place where the tracks were particularly well marked, took an extra long stride himself – to one side, of course – and knelt to remove the leaves and count the footfalls within it. He checked heels and toes separately so as not to miss any and took the highest number, 35; then he halved it, because each man would have stepped twice within the measured distance, and added an estimated allowance for prints obliterated by those behind; say, 20 men.
When had they passed? That it had not been this morning was confirmed by the edges of the prints being blurred by rain, and it had not rained since yesterday. Creighton’s experience gave it longer than that, two if not three days. When he looked for snapped shoots and bruised leaves, they still exuded sap, though slowly, and gave him the same time-scale. He replaced the ground leaves in a natural way, signalled his findings, and followed the line of the track northwards. Towards evening the track crossed his patrol boundary at a point very near a pre-planned infantry ambush position. The rule against crossing such a line without double-checked clearance being of the sort that is best obeyed, he stopped, made a last amplifying report, and awaited further orders.
With Creighton’s first report the whole area sprang to arms. Colonel Badger of the Royal Leicesters ordered intensive patrolling, and to good purpose. The following day, the 23rd, a team of Border Scouts found tracks to the east of Long Miau, again for twenty men, and following them north discovered a camp where no fewer than 200 men had stayed for two nights before continuing their journey on the morning of the 22nd. The infantry were redeployed to cover possible enemy routes; helicopters were positioned to lift them rapidly in response to new reports; and Woodiwiss moved patrols ahead of the enemy to provide such reports.
Creighton was sent to stand by at Long Pa Sia. When he reached it he found that Lieutenant Peele and eighteen men of the Leicesters had set off after the enemy and were now out of touch, their VHF radios having insufficient range in mountainous jungle country. This was not the calamity it seemed, however. A truce that the United Nations had appealed for was now in effect, Soekarno having agreed to it, though for his own reasons. Several incursions by Indonesian forces were at large in Malaysia at the time, but were being given a rough ride by British security forces. A cease-fire would prevent further casualties, while great propaganda value could be had from infiltrators remaining in Malaysia and being represented as liberators. General Walker trusted Soekarno not an inch, but had to give orders for incoming incursions not to be engaged except in self-defence, while those going home should be left entirely alone.
Happily, Peele knew nothing of all that. Following the trail into what might prove to be an overwhelming ambush, he came upon forty Indonesians having dinner, and with ten men charged in among them with consummate courage and verve, firing from the hip. Five of the enemy were killed, the rest fled leaving half-a-ton of arms and ammunition. Best of all, the main enemy force abandoned its mission and quietly retired. Creighton met Peele returning from the fight and searched the area. He picked up two woebegone survivors, who were delighted to carry his bergen for him and told him that the objective had indeed been Brunei as General Walker had long anticipated.
Good coordination of Creighton’s skill and Pee
le’s resolution, assisted by the latter’s inadequate radio, resulted in a minor classic of its kind. Peele earned a Military Cross and Creighton was commended by Woodhouse for a first-class tracking job; admirable, he might have said.
The Long Miau incursion coincided with a visit to Borneo by the Defence Minister, Peter Thorneycroft, who saw for himself the value of the SAS in at least one of their roles. His attention had been carefully drawn to the matter lest it should escape him; and General Walker voiced a much quoted tribute which, because it is often misquoted, is given here in full:
‘I regard 70 troopers of the SAS (one squadron) as being as valuable to me as 700 infantry in the role of hearts and minds, border surveillance, early warning, stay behind, and eyes and ears with a sting.’
If an SAS trooper takes that to mean that he is as good as ten private soldiers, even he would be well advised to say so with caution, but it was certainly true that infantry skills did not match those concentrated in just one four-man SAS patrol. In the First and Second Divisions, where the infantry were watching the border, many more men were needed. But there they were also guarding it, which the SAS could not do. The equation fitted better in the wilder parts, where if the infantry had been strung out along the border, they would not have been strong enough to defeat a determined probe at any one point; it was the SAS who enabled them to remain in reserve, fully mobile and ready to move in sufficient force against a known threat. The SAS knew perfectly well that they were only part of a team and, while being trained to a pitch that gave them calm selfconfidence in performing their own tasks, were not given to idle boasting that they could outdo, or even equal, those of others; besides, they never knew when they might need the others’ help. Still, it was pleasant to have such a compliment on the record, and from a man whom they had learnt to respect very highly indeed.
SAS: Secret War in South East Asia Page 10