Handsome Brute: The True Story of a Ladykiller

by O'Connor, Sean

  Paull Hill’s Portrait of a Sadist was published in 1960, some fourteen years after Heath’s trial.25 Significantly, Hill was a lawyer and would have known that the material that he discussed in the book would not be publishable until the passing of the Obscene Publications Act in 1959.

  During the war, Hill had been an adjutant on a troop carrier, SS Mooltan, where he had first met Neville Heath. How much of the story Heath told Hill is true is unclear. But it would certainly account for Heath’s increasing issues with money during his time in Palestine, as well as anticipating his later sexual predilections. During off-duty periods, Heath left the tedium of Sarafand and spent much of his time (and most of his money) in Jerusalem and particularly, Cairo.

  In the Middle East at the time, Cairo was the focus for the entertainment of Allied troops on leave or for those passing through to the various desert theatres of war. By 1941, Cairo’s population of half a million was increased by 35,000 troops from Britain and the Empire. It offered a pre-war, colonial lifestyle of indulgent luxury. Noël Coward, who made a journey throughout the Middle East at this time, was stunned and slightly sickened by the sybaritic existence lived out in the foyers and restaurants of the Continental and Shepheard’s Hotel – where, famously, stocks of champagne didn’t run out until 1943.

  The restrictions of wartime are unknown; people sat there sipping Gin-Slings and cocktails and chatting and gossiping, waiters glided about wearing Fezzes . . . There were uniforms everywhere of all ranks and nationalities . . . [indicating] that perhaps somewhere in the vague outside world there might be a war of some sort going on. This place is the last refuge of the soi-disant ‘International Set’. All the fripperies of pre-war luxury living are still in existence here; rich people, idle people, cocktail-parties, dinner parties, jewels and evening dress. Rolls-Royces come purring up to the terrace . . . it [all] felt rather old fashioned and lacking in taste.26

  The large department stores Cicurel’s, Chemla’s and Le Salon Vert carried on business as usual and Groppi’s, the most famous café in Cairo, continued to serve its famous coffee accompanied by pastries rich in clarified butter. Even the corner shops of Cairo were packed with goods that had long since been rationed in England; butter, sugar and eggs as well as exotic local produce like oranges, dates, beans, maize and the huge cabbages and cauliflowers that thrived in the Nile Delta. Luxury goods like French wine, grapes, melons, steaks, cigarettes, beer and whisky were all easily obtainable. This abundance was an extraordinary vision of plenty for troops fresh from the desert and used to tinned British Army rations of M&V (meat and veg), fatty bacon, cheese, marmalade and bully beef.27

  The Gezira Sporting Club was the focus for many of the social events for officers in wartime Cairo. Given to the British Army by the Pasha of Egypt, the club covered the entire southern end of Gezira Island and boasted gardens, polo fields, a golf course, a race course, cricket pitches, squash and tennis courts, croquet lawns and a lido. At the same time, the Turf Club swarmed with officers and a dozen open-air cinemas showed films every night throughout the city. But the entertainment for which Cairo became infamous during the Second World War was the sex trade.

  The brothels in the red-light district of wartime Cairo have become legendary – dens of vice and iniquity providing an extraordinary variety of services for the most diverse taste, from pornographic films and cabarets to peep shows, prostitutes, rent boys and orgies. The majority of brothels were situated along the Wagh el Birket or ‘the Berka’ as it was known – opposite Shepheard’s and the Continental Hotel. Prostitutes called down from hundreds of New Orleans-style balconies that overlooked the long, narrow street, touting for business from below. The incidence of murders and rapes in the area at the time caused such concern that British military police attempted to make the worst districts of the city ‘Out of Bounds to All Ranks’ by putting up circular white signs with a black ‘X’ across them. But with 90,000 clients a month,28 it proved impossible to police the warren of back-streets and alleyways that stretched across the ancient city, and the legend of extraordinary sexual practices – including the spectacle of women copulating with a variety of animals, among them a donkey – continued to lure troops on leave in search of relief, or adventure. Graham Tylee, an army private during this period, offers a first-hand account of Cairo’s vice trade in his memoirs, held in the Imperial War Museum.

  Each brothel had a number, some were better patronized than others. Each had a ‘Madame’ in charge of the girls – usually a prostitute who had moved from the bed to the cash desk . . . whoever you went with you still ran the risk of ‘copping a packet’ despite the fact that army doctors regularly inspected the girls. To really lessen the risk of venereal disease it was advisable to visit the PAC (Prophylactic Ablution Centre) and take the necessary precautions, which consisted of squirting a solution of permanganate potash crystals up the penis. After this performance the customer collected a blue ticket on the way out which guaranteed him no loss of pay if he contacted gonorrhea or syphilis. [At the brothel] You went up the stairs and sat down in company with dozens of other customers and sightseers. Each girl had her own gimmick to attract custom. But the best gimmick was youth and beauty. Some girls resorted to particularly perverted practices: others would stand in front of you clad only in transparent nighties and the tiniest bikini briefs which they would pull down a shade to reveal pubic regions completely denuded of hair. [The Berka] was recognized officially by the army authorities but there was another area definitely off limits and this was known as the Black Berka. Once you got off the main streets of Cairo you found yourself in a rabbit warren of narrow streets and dark alleyways where vice in all shapes and forms reigned supreme. The only way into this labyrinth of evil alleyways was with a guide, usually a ragged youngster who furtively tugged at your shirt or pullover, whispering, ‘You want to see exhibish?’ If you were on your own and you had any sense you shook the youngster off or if he was still persistent, you belted him round the ear. For once in the quarter by yourself you stood a very good chance of being robbed and murdered.29

  At the Continental Hotel, Heath became friendly with the barman and told him that he’d heard rumours that a certain house in the red-light district – most probably in the ‘Black Berka’ – provided not only graphic sexual ‘exhibitions’, as described by Graham Tylee, but also provided an exclusive place known as the ‘Amazon Room’ where ‘you could do what you like and no questions asked’. The barman told Heath that the Amazon Room could provide him with girls who liked to be beaten – and boys too, if that was to Heath’s taste.

  According to Portrait of a Sadist, Heath was shown into a house deep in the red-light district. The place was decorated in the Arab style, with no tables and chairs, but carpets, cushions and low sofas arranged on the floor. Coffee and cigarettes were offered by the brothel keeper, as Heath negotiated what he wanted and how much it was going to cost. He was offered two Greek girls by the brothel keeper – one sixteen years of age, and the other, her fifteen-year-old sister. A night with both sisters (‘do anything you like, but no blood’)30 would cost £50. This is at a time when a London prostitute would charge £1 for her services.

  The room that Heath was shown into had no windows and was padded. The floor, walls and ceiling were all painted red, as were the electric light bulbs. A collection of whips, canes, woven thongs and paddles were arranged in a rack against one wall. Against another were some low sofas and some horizontal bars. From the ceiling dangled a variety of ropes.

  The sixteen-year-old was sent to Heath first – in tears and shaking with fright. He tied her to one of the horizontal bars and chose a whip to beat her with. Shortly afterwards, her younger sister was sent into the room, half-naked. Her ankles were then tied with one of the ropes dangling from the ceiling. She was then pulled up, upside down, until she was about two or three feet above the floor – just able to touch it with her hands. She was then beaten with a whip. Hill goes on to say that Heath witnessed further sex acts,
including rape, but that ‘this sort of thing didn’t appeal to [him]’.31 Hill’s story is extreme and reads like pornography but it’s clear that whatever Heath did at the Amazon Rooms, it was no more extreme than any of the other customers – fetishistic rather than sadistic violence.

  Whether these stories of the Amazon Room are true or not is open to question. Veteran crime writer Donald Thomas feels that Hill is a reliable source (a lawyer with a good memory for what Heath might have told him). But it might be Heath himself who inflated the tale, turning various brothel visits into a sexual epic, casting himself as an outrageous Don Juan. It’s also unclear how developed Heath’s sexual tastes were at this time. It seems unlikely that he would have been able to practise fetishistic sex at borstal or in the English county towns around the RAF and army bases where he had been stationed. What is certainly true is that sexual practices of this type did go on in Cairo during the time Heath was stationed in the Middle East and perhaps it is here that he first witnessed extreme sexual behaviour.

  It was not long before Heath’s financial misconduct and various other offences in Palestine were exposed. Taken individually, each of the issues could have been dealt with by his commanding officer, but it is clear that Heath had repeatedly flouted authority, his wrongdoing now habitual.

  As well as his issues relating to money, Heath was also found to be absenting himself from his unit without permission. He had told his commanding officer that he was having an operation on 2 June 1941 at the military hospital in Jerusalem because he had tonsilitis. He then claimed that he needed further follow-up appointments. But he was lying. He had only been required to attend the hospital once. His service records indicate that he had also been admitted to hospital twice in September of 1940 and once more in January 1941. These medical troubles may well have been valid, but it seems that he was exploiting them as excuses to be absent from his unit so that he could indulge himself in bars, brothels, restaurants and nightclubs. In mitigation, Heath later said that he was a fully qualified flying officer and was anxious to take a more active part in the fighting. He had applied for a transfer to the parachutists and the RAF, to no avail. His absences suggest his frustration at not being at the heart of the action; he’d rather spend a few illicit days ‘on a party’ in Jerusalem or in the Berka in Cairo than guard a static oil-pipeline in the middle of a desert.

  Heath was arrested on a number of charges – for lying about his absences from his unit, for using the second advance pay book and for five bounced cheques. For the second time in his career, he appeared before a General Court Martial at Jerusalem on 17 and 18 July 1941. Found guilty, he was to be stripped of his rank and commission and ignominiously repatriated back to England. On 8 August, Heath wrote to his parents that he would be returning home soon, ‘on leave’. Given the circumstances of his dismissal, how would he face his parents? What would he tell his fiancée?

  He was held under close arrest from 15 August and was to be repatriated to Britain in October. Since Italy had entered the war, the passage home across the Mediterranean was closed, so he would be sailing by the much longer Cape Route via South Africa.

  SS Mooltan was docked at Port Tewfik on the Suez Canal, loaded with troops, guns, tanks and stores. A former P&O Liner, she had been requisitioned by the RAF and was now painted a uniform grey as troop ship W7. Even at a speed of 17 knots, the voyage back to Glasgow – the final port of disembarkation – would take the best part of two months.

  The Mooltan crew were repatriating 420 wounded British Army personnel from Crete, supervised by twenty-one VAD Nurses. Also travelling were 200 civilian refugees comprising friendly diplomats and their families as well as oil company representatives from the Balkans. Locked in the lower decks were thousands of Italian POWs. Sixteen officers who had been court-martialled were also on board. Some had been under close arrest for weeks – some, like Heath, for months.

  Paull Hill was adjutant on the Mooltan. With the ship still docked, he called the sixteen cashiered officers together and told them that their sentences would now be officially promulgated. Heath was sixth or seventh in line in this process of sanctioned humiliation. First, he was sent to the Orderly Room to remove all decorations and insignia of rank from his uniform. Returning with them in his hands, he was told to place these insignia on the table in front of him, thereby reverting to civilian status.

  Heath made quite an impression on Hill. Nearly six feet tall, with broad shoulders and slim hips, he seemed the least likely person to commit the offences he had been charged with. ‘[He was] a perfect specimen of young manhood – he was only twenty-four then – with blue eyes, fair curly hair and a carefree expression on his handsome face,’32 Hill wrote in Portrait of a Sadist.

  Hill took a keen interest in Heath throughout the voyage and on several occasions had to talk to him about various romances that he was having on board, particularly those with civilian passengers. It is during these discussions that Heath apparently revealed to Hill his adventures in the brothels of Cairo.

  The Mooltan sailed south towards the Cape and docked into Durban’s large lagoon harbour. Whilst taking on supplies for the rest of the voyage, it became apparent that the engines needed immediate attention. Essential spares would have to be found locally – or even flown in from England. The ship would be docked at Durban for at least a fortnight, possibly longer. Plans were made to transfer the POWs to a camp just outside Durban. The rest of the passengers would remain living on the ship, but would be allowed ashore during the day. Heath and the other court-martialled officers were subject to military law until the point of disembarkation, but having caused no trouble on the voyage so far, they were also permitted shore leave, on the condition that they were back aboard by 00.01 a.m. each night.

  South Africa’s ports and harbours, particularly Cape Town and Durban, had become of global strategic importance since Italy had joined the war, making the route around the Cape of Good Hope a crucial artery in the Allied campaign. During the war years 45,000 ships would call at South Africa’s ports – 400 convoys carrying a total of 6 million men. More than half of these ships would pass through Durban.

  South Africa’s geographical position meant that the war still felt distant. As in Singapore and Cairo, it was possible to live the classic colonial lifestyle of sundowners on the Durban Club terrace and polo at the Inanda Club. Even the currency reassuringly remained sterling, a legacy of the British Empire continuing to dominate the South African economy.33 For clubbable (apparently), public-school men like Neville Heath, South Africa was a home from home, with few of the wartime disadvantages and much better weather.

  Durban itself was a city of contrasts, an exotic combination of European and African cultures. A line of luxurious hotels and Art Deco buildings sat along the harbour rather like Miami in Florida.34 There were handsome shops and elegant houses, impressive public buildings, cinemas, and an art gallery with fine English and Dutch paintings. Bernard Shaw’s wife had claimed that Durban was the one city outside England that she could live in as it was ‘so very English’, but it was also very multicultural, with mosques and Hindu temples situated just off the main streets which were populated with Indians, Zulus, Muslims and Europeans. It was the perfect melting pot for Heath to be absorbed within and for him to indulge his hotel and bar-room lifestyle. It was also, for a young officer from dusty Palestine, a city of refreshing greenery with wide avenues and roads shady with flowering trees, flamboyants, jacarandas and bougainvillea,35 that gave Durban a tropical air.36 Alongside the tramcars and motor buses, the famous Zulu rickshaw boys ran barefoot along the tarmac, wearing head-dresses of bull’s horns and feathers, coloured beads dangling from their neck and wrists. On the pavements, witch doctors sold the fat of the hippopotamus as a love charm, not fifty yards from the local chemist. Even in the suburbs, Durban exhibited an exotic fusion of modernity and elemental Africa as hundreds of monkeys played within sight of the newest apartment buildings.37

  After a fortnight docked in
the harbour at Durban, her engines now fixed, the Mooltan was ready to proceed on her voyage. But when Paull Hill tried to track him down, 2nd Lieutenant Heath was nowhere to be found. Returning to bombed-out Britain and facing an awkward and humiliating homecoming in Wimbledon, South Africa, with its colour and opportunities, must have seemed to Heath like an extremely tempting place to start a new life. When the Mooltan finally set sail for Glasgow, it left without him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lt. James Robert Cadogan Armstrong

  DECEMBER 1941 – OCTOBER 1944

  You don’t know what it’s like to feel frightened. You get a beastly, bitter taste in your mouth, and your tongue goes dry and you feel sick, and all the time you’re saying – this isn’t happening to me – it can’t be happening – I’ll wake up. But you know you won’t wake up. You know it’s happening and the sea is below you, and you’re responsible for the lives of six people. And you have to pretend you’re not afraid, that’s what’s so awful. Oh God, I was afraid tonight, when we took off and saw that [plane] on fire, I didn’t think: There are friends of mine in that. I thought: That might happen to us.

  Terence Rattigan, Flare Path, 1942

  The Union of South Africa had joined the Allies in 1939 but only after a narrow vote when the nationalist and anti-British prime minister, James Hertzog, had been deposed following his attempt to promote South African neutrality in the war. Hertzog lost the debate by only thirteen votes and was replaced by his coalition deputy, the Boer War veteran, Jan Smuts. Smuts was very much pro-British and went on to acquire senior status within the Allied Commanders.1 Given that his majority to commit South Africa to the Allied cause was small, there was to be no enforced conscription – the Union Defence Forces were to be bolstered by volunteers alone. At the outbreak of war there had been only 3,353 troops in the regular army with 14,631 territorials, so a vigorous recruiting drive was launched with posters encouraging prospective volunteers. ‘Don’t miss the greatest adventure of all time!’2