SAS: Secret War in South East Asia

by Dickens, Peter;

  Even in the remote jungle there was no certainty of security. The patrols lived as though in enemy territory, at constant alertness with all cutting forbidden. The number of Border Scouts was increased to six or even eight for each patrol, to maintain touch with the villagers and report every scrap of information; they had therefore to know the patrol’s position and intended movement, so betrayal was a possibility although it never happened.

  So far so good; but only when the Muruts truly believed that the British could protect them would they give their full confidence and help. To this end, de la Billière hit on the idea of turning Step-Up exercises into psychological warfare spectaculars with the enthusiastic collaboration of the Gurkhas, the 2/7th until mid-July and then the 1/2nd under Lieutenant-Colonel John Clements.

  ‘It was a great game,’ says de la Billière, ‘and we only cheated a little by making sure the Gurkhas and helicopters were at split-second readiness. “Look,” we said to the Muruts, “when you see any sign of the Indos, come and tell us straight away and we’ll use our magic radio box to bring masses of soldiers in to clobber them.” Well that was a bit unconvincing at first so we said, “Let’s try it tomorrow; you pretend you’ve found some footprints, anywhere you like, and see what happens.” So along they came and told us there were signs where the tracks cross just south of Bukit Oojah; and this bit wasn’t cheating because our patrols knew their areas intimately and landing-points with lateral tracks had been cut wherever tactically expedient, so within an hour or two a hundred Gurkhas bristling with weapons would be right on the spot and the locals’ eyes boggled.’

  The Muruts were thus impressed that the British were more efficient than the Indonesians, as well as a good deal nicer; but the most telling effect was to the headman’s prestige. That factor was crucial because had it just been a matter of troops arriving arbitrarily in his domains, his authority might have been shaken and his displeasure incurred. But as it was:

  ‘I, the Pengulu of Kabu, Sakikilo, Sabaton and great dominions beyond the trees, called for soldiers and they came; I spoke and they descended from the skies; and when I wanted them to go, they left again. “Saya yang ta-tinggi” [“I’m the greatest”].’

  de la Billière took advantage of Wingate-Gray’s presence and walked the length of the Pensiangan front to see it for himself, gingering everybody up and generating new ideas for pursuing excellence. The list was long:

  To ensure efficient coordination with the infantry and other Intelligence agencies, the SAS should have Liaison NCOs at Battalion Headquarters, carefully chosen for their ability to advise senior officers tactfully. Paddy Baker filled this bill precisely, and not yet being fully fit after Shi’b Taym went to Pensiangan itself. The radio beacon Sarbe was a clear need; so too was a more efficient resupply organization, the precision of which was important to the patrols’ planning and morale, de la Billière wrote to Brigadier Tuzo with considerably more asperity than is customary from a Major to such a senior officer, but the latter, wisely and tolerantly, let him get away with it and put matters right.

  Ideas for hearts and minds tumbled forth. Crops were the natives’ main concern so a farmer’s bulletin should be produced to be read aloud. And even more important, a news sheet. The Regiment needed more Malay speakers, so courses must take priority. If the British were to open trading-posts near the border where Kalimantan natives could buy essentials like rice, which was known to be short, hearts and minds might be won as well as useful information gleaned. Budding entrepreneurs in the villages were fuelling inflation, which was both expensive and would spoil them for the future, so wages for services such as porterage and cutting landing-points should be fixed. Also, no presents should be given away without some quid pro quo. And so on, and so on.

  Serious consideration was given to evacuating some of the wavering villages like Kabu, which Gerry had thankfully turned over to Sergeant Paddy Freaney with his patrol of ‘Mau Mau’ Williams and George Shipley. The weather was bad, their resupply was late so their food ran out. When at last it came and they cached half, everything not in tins was eaten by termites; including 10,000 cigarettes that Williams had ordered at his own expense, the better to win hearts and minds while himself turning an honest penny. ‘Sakikilo was a very boozy place’, says Freaney; ‘they were on a four-day blinder when we went there once, bodies sprawled everywhere.’ Perhaps that was not surprising with the future so menacing. Late in the month, signs of a large enemy force were found on the border, and those of a scouting party in the home ‘ladangs’. Freaney organized a Step-Up but nothing more happened. The atmosphere lightened a little at the end of July with friendships beginning to form, and the decision was taken not to evacuate, the SAS with their experience of the Long Pa Sia Bulge arguing that almost any natives, even fence-sitters, were better than none at all.

  That other troublesome parish, Saliliran cum Talinbakus, was taken over from Lillico by ‘Gipsy’ Smith, who went about restoring trust and confidence as his particular talents prompted, ordering a bicycle dynamo and headlamp by the next resupply. At the Haunted House, they might well have asked ‘Why no bicycle?’, but SAS lore has it that a man in the field gets what he wants at once and questions come later; besides, they knew their ‘Gipsy’.

  Construction took five days and Smith became uneasy lest the Indonesians should hear of his patrol’s immobility, but the Talinbakusians were so intrigued by the thing, whatever it was, that they did nothing to prevent its completion. A framework of jungle poles, a paddle wheel and water-guides of old boxes, a, driving belt of air-drop webbing and a heavy flywheel carved from a tree-section proved on first testing to be too slow; but it was simple to add a small gearwheel and other refinements. The spare radio cable just reached the headman’s house, and the 22 SAS hydro-electric generator went on stream to provide the only electric light in all the border to people who could only regard it as a miracle. Its rays first lit a memorable ‘tapai’ party and then spread to all the country rounc. about, where the supremacy of Talinbakus was acknowledged and a hearts and minds breakthrough achieved at one technological stroke.

  Smith disappeared on his rounds without more delay. When he returned a, week later the Muruts wanted something new, so he made them one of his stills from bergen-frame tubing and a biscuit-tin, which he had first researched and developed among the aborigines of Malaya. To a discriminating palate, ‘tapai’ in its natural state is just tolerable if duty is the spur, though the Muruts rarely had enough of it; but this eye-opening, throat-closing poteen challenged even them, and socially progressive activists might reasonably have complained that, whatever they needed for their welfare, it was not that, even though there was a war on in which exceptional measures were sometimes in order. However, a benign providence conspired to achieve the aim without the drawbacks; for when Smith demonstrated that the fiery liquor could indeed be readily ignited, the Muruts became even less enthusiastic, and while they now possessed a second object of pride and prestige, they never mastered its operation.

  Talinbakus had been selected for these favours because Saliliran was almost on the border, and Smith did not dare make other than fleeting visits there during July. Those were enough, however, to foster a particularly warm and effective relationship with the headman, Likinan, an exceptionally able leader who played a difficult political game with single-minded delicacy. Pressurized on one day by Smith and the next by Indonesians from Nantakor, little more than a, mile away, only survival mattered. When Likinan invited the patrol to refreshments, it was a sore test of nerve to sit in the open sipping ‘tapai’ through a straw and making small talk while expecting a bullet between the shoulders. Such fears were justifiable but proved groundless; even in the early days, Likinan promised that they would be safe as his guests, sending out a screen of hunters to ensure early warning of danger. As he became convinced that Saliliran’s future lay with Malaysia, his village became a pleasure to visit and earned three stars in the SAS good food guide.

  Nantakor was t
he dominating factor. In normal times it was like home to the Salilirans, for the two communities were closely interrelated; but now its inhabitants had been replaced by a platoon of 40 soldiers and the village turned into a strong defensive position. Saliliran’s Border Scouts watched it constantly; barefooted, armed sometimes with shotguns which were consistent with their being hunters, and sometimes with just a cover story, such as having come to enquire after auntie’s health, they bravely and effectively operated under Smith’s orders. The area’s vulnerability was such that he was ordered to cut a system of landing-points and tracks, for which he engaged the people of both villages.

  All along the SAS front other patrols did the same job with the same dedication and initiative, though with different approaches and methods as circumstances and personalities dictated. Results were less encouraging in the Highlands, where there were many more villages close to the border with strong enemy forces just the other side. Although Step-Up exercises reassured the Kelabits while the troops were present, they remained nervous at other times, with justification, too; on 6 August, four landing-point cutters employed by the SAS were fallen upon and captured. This incident had to be acknowledged as an important reverse. The Kelabits demanded a permanent infantry presence, which was granted, and the SAS were gradually withdrawn to more useful places.

  The mental and physical stress of defensive campaigning was no less for ‘A’ Squadron than it had been for ‘D’ and the incidence of sickness was higher than expected. When men had to be evacuated from patrol on medical grounds – ‘Medevac’ – it was no cause for satisfaction; nor for shame either though the word carried a subtly different connotation to ‘Casevac’. de la Billière had bet Woodhouse that it would not happen in his Squadron, rashly because anyone can become ill and he had to pay up; he explained that since patrols had to move camp frequently a ‘bed case’ could not stay in the same leafy bower long enough for a cure. Owing to his uncompromising insistence on taking paludrine and other prophylactic measures there were few tropical fevers, but exhaustion occurred and prolonged tiredness reduced resistance to various medical conditions.

  This was a time when much thought was being given to limiting the weight of a man’s pack to give him a better chance of survival in a hostile environment by lessening fatigue and improving alertness and agility. Foods with high calorific values were investigated, dehydrated the further to reduce weight, but even so the rations which could be carried in a 40- or even 50-pound pack were insufficient for a big man at full stretch; all right perhaps for an in-and-out offensive mission, but constant under-nourishment could impair health and ultimately defeat the object for which it had been introduced. Very well, this was no choir outing but the SAS on patrol, and as in so many ways they were pioneering a new technique for going always a little further, now achieving Woodhouse’s goal of being able to operate for a fortnight with nothing but what they carried.

  SHOOT-AND-SCOOT

  The remote Third Division was being taken over by the Guards Independent Parachute Company, now trained in the SAS jungle role, and that was a relief; but the uninhabited Long Pa Sia Bulge with its unresolved problems was still very much on the SAS agenda and those now present in it were Sergeant Maurice Tudor and his 4 Troop. Three patrols covered the main ‘ulus’, the Berbulu, the Paling/Plandok, and the Morning, which was Tudor’s own stamping-ground though he visited the others from time to time; they would have been thick on the ground in a populated district, but here every point in the border marches had to be inspected personally and revisited constantly so that there was never a respite from ‘going to and fro upon the earth and from walking up and down in it’.

  The Bulge thus became increasingly familiar, and by early August it was possible to be fairly certain that the enemy no longer made himself at home there, de la Billière even judged it prudent to withdraw Tudor for a Malay language course, the need for more linguists being pressing, and he was lifted out from Landing-Point 1 near the River Plandok on the 4th. Lance Corporal Roger Blackman, fastidious concerning eggs as may be remembered, now commanded a patrol for the first time. On the following morning he led them back eastward to the Morning, spending a further night on the way.

  Trooper White was usually the lead scout, ‘Chalky’ to his Army mates of course but his name was Billy and he preferred that. ‘A harum-scarum lad’, as his brother John, now an SAS Sergeant, admits with approval, he had been RTU’d in Malaya for an over-exuberant ‘lark’; but he and the SAS were made for each other, and he clawed his way back. This was his first patrol in Borneo, but it had lasted a long time and he had well proved his fitness to lead the way.

  Another trooper, young and newly-entered, was Jimmy Green, though that was not his real name. It is said of the SAS – indeed they say it too and delude themselves greatly – that security being so much a part of their lives, they have lost the ability to talk freely even when they safely may. But here was one man who might have originated the myth, and his anonimity must be respected.

  The patrol still comprised four men without Tudor because they had a visitor from Australia. That country naturally kept a close eye on Confrontation and Woodhouse strove to enlist the help of her SAS Company, so far unsuccessfully. But it happened that one of their number on attachment to the British Army in Malaya met Woodhouse at a party and, like calling to like, jumped at the chance of trying his hand in Borneo. So here was Lieutenant Geoff Skardon, who had been with the patrol four weeks and was fully integrated, enjoying the life, companionship and indeed excitement at the possibility of a real enemy being behind every bush, though so far that had remained only a possibility.

  On the evening of the 5th, however, the 1/2nd Goorkhas at Long Pa Sia heard a faint rattle of musketry way up in the ‘ulu’ Morning. Blackman was in dead ground though much closer and detected nothing; but having been ordered to check the main trade-route track parallel to the river he did so on the morning of the 6th, very slowly, very quietly and fully alert.

  White led, down a slope, across a sunken creek and up to the low ridge along which ran the track, followed by Blackman, Skardon and Green. As they climbed they became involuntarily taut, sensing a subtle change in the atmosphere but instinctively rather than consciously. None of them having the experience of a Creighton or a Richardson, they only realized afterwards that the causes were not extra-sensory but palpable and could have been acted upon. Although absolutely quiet themselves, they heard no jungle hum, as though the insects too were listening apprehensively, and in the still air hung the trace of a scent that while not being distinctively human was not quite of the forest either.

  Scarcely moving, White glided round a big tree and found himself standing over an Indonesian soldier who was kneeling and preparing his meal with soundless movements. White had no doubt what he had to do and did it instantly; without needing to raise his rifle he inserted the butt into his own shoulder and, twisting to his right, the muzzle into the ‘salt-cellar’ above the collar-bone in the enemy’s. The bullet stabbed downwards to emerge from the buttock and the man was dead; stone-dead like a statue, for his knees supported and balanced him and he knelt there yet, as though humbly before his god.

  Blackman shouted ‘Get out!’ as was his duty. Expecting the others to obey, he broke left with Green, both men slipping their bergens, when these impeded them as was customary; though the radio was lost too and that was unfortunate. White, however, stayed where he was, shooting. Seeing this, Skardon broke right but forward rather than back, first thinking that whatever White’s target the patrol had the initiative and must keep it. Having dropped to the prone position and discarded his bergen too for greater freedom, Skardon saw the thick jungle along the ridge blaze with Are from at least a platoon of soldiers with White almost among them. The cover on the slope now proved to be horrifyingly sparse. He changed his aim to cover White’s withdrawal, but it was already too late. He caught the words: ‘Geoff, Geoff, I’m hit!’

  Oblivious of the Shoot-and-Scoot drill and
of his own safety, Skardon ran to White, diving beside him and pulling him behind the big tree, which at least afforded protection from the closest enemy to the old front. Those to the flanks, however, had the pair still in view and poured in fire. They missed only through incompetence and because of the undergrowth, thin though it was. Skardon saw blood in huge quantities spurting under pressure from White’s upper thigh and knew that a tourniquet must be applied within seconds. Expecting a hand-grenade at any moment, he grabbed White’s collar and with all his strength dragged him a full ten yards to a shallow depression that looked as though it might offer some protection, but it did not. Their movement was seen. The firing continued to break down branches and thud into the earth around them, and with his hand still on his friend’s shoulder, Skardon said:

  ‘I think we’ve had it, Chalky’.

  ‘I know skipper, thanks for trying.’

  Skardon then saw White’s wound, which was big enough to take his fist; the reason he could see it was because blood had stopped flowing, and the reason for that could only have been that White’s heart too had stopped. Had it still been pumping it must have produced a pulsing flow however feeble, but that deduction did not strike Skardon, whose mind was busy assessing how best to get White to the cover of the sunken creek. He could not know whether Blackman and Green had got away, so he shouted to them for covering fire, without response. He said, ‘Come on “Chalky”, I’m going to carry you’, but there was no response from that quarter either; of course there wasn’t, but Skardon was set on his plan. He swore angrily and slapped the insentient face, then half lifting poor ‘Chalky’, staggered a few more yards to another slight hollow which, however, afforded no better protection. The intense Are was still singularly ill-directed, but the law of averages must surely be operating, unfavourably.