by Phil Ward
Lieutenant Pamala Plum-Martin, Lieutenant Mandy Paige, her mother, Veronica, and Red, the Flying Clipper Girl, were all to be decorated for their actions during the siege of RAF Habbaniya. That was a secret too. The night was going to be full of surprises.
What Lady Jane failed to mention was that Lt. Col. Randal was going to be promoted to full colonel.
That, too, was supposed to be a surprise.
What Lady Jane did not know was that Lt. Col. Randal knew all about his promotion. He also knew Lady Jane was to receive an award for raising her female Royal Marine Detachment—the only one of its kind—in addition to other unnamed services to the crown. And, she was being promoted to major.
Lady Jane had no idea.
Neither Lady Jane nor Lt. Col. Randal were aware that King George VI had arrived in Cairo earlier that morning to congratulate Field Marshal Claude Auchinleck on his recent OPERATION CRUSADER victory and would be conducting the investiture. The King’s trip to Egypt might have been influenced by the fact that Lady Jane’s award as a Lady Companion of the Most Noble Order of the Garter was conferred at the personal discretion of the Sovereign.
Tonight was a small, private ceremony, a rare event since all the recipients of valor or achievement awards were women. Later in the week, FM Auchinleck would conduct a ceremony at the hospital for wounded Raiders who were unable to attend the investiture at RFHQ.
It was no problem for Lt. Col. Randal to have Brandy in the Mena House limousine in time for it to arrive at FM Auchinleck’s residence at the appointed hour—she was staying in the suite’s guest room.
Lady Jane had already departed to oversee the final preparations for the event with Flanigan, her driver/bodyguard, who had been a base policeman at RAF Habbaniya and carried out the same duties for Lt. Col. Randal during that siege.
Lady Jane had a way of appropriating things and people that belonged to or worked for him—she was wearing his old ivory grips on her 1911 Model Colt .38 Super with Raiding Forces carved on them from his days commanding Force N in Abyssinia. And carrying his ivory riding crop that had been converted into an officer’s walking-out stick—a long slim blade was concealed inside.
Tonight Brandy was wearing a simple skintight white sheath, and Lt. Col. Randal could not help but notice how it contrasted with her golden tan. She did not look old enough to be the mother of a Raiding Forces senior naval officer—even if he was only nineteen.
Brandy and Lt. Col. Randal had been close since the night they met. “Jane is taking this night soooo seriously,” Brandy said. “She really loves you, John . . .” Whoops—nearly slipped and mentioned his surprise promotion!
“I don’t think so,” Lt. Col. Randal said.
“You do not think Jane loves you?”
“No.”
Brandy said, “Then why do you suppose Jane followed you halfway around the globe in the middle of a war to serve with Raiding Forces when she could have held any position she desired in England?”
“That’s her job,” Lt. Col. Randal said. “She’s my MI-6 Control.”
Brandy started laughing so hard that she found it difficult to speak. “You believe Jane is sleeping with you for the Secret Intelligence Service?
“I love you, John, but you are a total idiot.”
“You can’t tell anybody,” Lt. Col. Randal said. “My IQ is classified.”
• • •
LIEUTENANT COLONEL JOHN RANDAL WAS STANDING IN THE LIVING ROOM OF FIELD Marshal Claude Auchinleck’s residence talking to His Royal Majesty King George VI following the short, private investiture ceremony. The king was the colonel-in-chief of the King’s Royal Rifle Corps. The KRRC was Lt. Col. Randal’s regiment, though he wore the “Rangers” badge on his uniform by choice because it was the Territorial Regiment he joined when he first entered the British Army. The Rangers had been amalgamated into the KRRC.
“Congratulations, Colonel, always a pleasure to see an officer of the regiment advance,” King George said, with the slight stutter he had battled since childhood. He took his role as colonel-in-chief of the KRRC seriously. “’Straordinary evening, thought for a moment Lady Jane was going to have the vapors . . .”
FM Auchinleck’s senior aide rushed into the room, made his way straight toward his boss. He whispered in his ear. The Field Marshal turned pale.
“Your Majesty, ladies and gentlemen,” FM Auchinleck announced. “I regret I shall have to make my excuses . . . Rommel has launched a full-blooded counterattack at El Agheila.”
The announcement was a showstopper.
4
ORDER OF THE GARTER
“The Italians managed to evade the Royal Navy and land a convoy of ships containing a resupply of German Panzer Mark IIIs,” James “Baldie” Taylor said. “Afrika Korps had been reduced to an estimated thirty to forty serviceable tanks of all models—mostly Italian—when Rommel pulled back to his defensive positions at El Agheila at the end of OPERATION CRUSADER. As soon as the panzers came ashore, he attacked straightaway—no worrying about logistics, the operational arts, or any of the other preconditions necessary to sustain a major offensive operation. The minute Rommel’s tanks arrived, he went over to offense.
“Took us off guard.”
Jim was briefing Colonel John Randal in the third-floor suite he shared with Major the Lady Jane Seaborn, LG, OBE, RM, at Raiding Forces Headquarters two hours after the investiture ceremony. The decision had been made for them to go to RFHQ rather than to return to Mena House.
The mood was tense as Jim briefed. Initial reports indicated that Field Marshal Erwin Rommel had caught the British Eighth Army troops spread out, exhausted from the CRUSADER fighting. His new allocation of panzers was cutting through the Allied defenses like a hot knife through butter. Col. Randal knew the first reports from the battlefield are almost never accurate, but he was not questioning the basic appreciation—the Desert Fox was on a rampage.
Jim said, “Auchinleck is scrambling to establish a defensive line that will hold, but the situation is fluid at the moment.
“Place Raiding Forces on alert for immediate deployment.”
“With what, General?” Col. Randal said. “We only have enough serviceable gun jeeps for two patrols exclusive of Sea Squadron and barely enough fit men to fill ’em. Besides, Lt. Jaxx won’t arrive from Oasis X with our jeeps until later tomorrow.
“My troops haven’t had any downtime after over a month’s continuous operations behind the lines. They’re in no condition to take the field again.”
“Point noted—cobble together as many operational patrols as possible. This is an emergency,” Jim ordered.
“I have a meeting with Dudley Clarke in an hour. Raiding Forces will be supporting an A-Force mission. Brief you on the details as soon as I return later tonight, Colonel. We would not be having this conversation if the situation was not critical.”
“We’ll be playing hurt,” Col. Randal said. “Every one of our patrols except Roy Kidd’s Scout Patrol took casualties. The Regiment is completely out of patrol leaders—Westcott Huxley was KIA, three others wounded. Terry Stone is in critical condition, and Travis McCloud is away in the U.S. at Ft. Benning on a recruiting trip.”
“I can take out a patrol,” Jim said. “Count on me to accompany you, regardless.”
“We may have to take you up on your offer,” Col. Randal said. “Raiding Forces was short officers before CRUSADER.”
“I say again,” Jim said, “this is an emergency.”
After the general left for his meeting, Col. Randal said, “King, send a message to Lieutenant Hoolihan. Order him to take over command of Duck Patrol. Have Sergeant Major Mikkalis report to me here at RFHQ as soon as possible.”
“On the way, Chief.”
“While you’re at it,” Col. Randal said, “issue a recall for all Raiding Forces personnel on leave.”
King said, “Probably hanging out in bars all down the coast from Cairo to Alexandria, Chief.”
“I don’t care if t
hey’re in Antarctica,” Col. Randal said. “Get ’em back here.”
“Roger.”
“Find out where Major Merritt is. Have him assemble his Sudan Defense Force Company at a location of his choosing and stand by for orders,” Col. Randal ordered.
“Radio Billy Jack, get an ETA for the vehicle convoy to arrive at RFHQ—tell him to step on it.”
• • •
Waldo Treywick came in the suite. “King said I could find you up here, Colonel. Workin’ late? Congratulations on gettin’ promoted.” He took out a pair of his thin, custom-rolled cigars and handed one to Colonel John Randal. They did not light them. Major the Lady Jane Seaborn did not allow cigar smoking in the suite.
“Lady Seaborn got made a ‘double’ Lady,” Waldo said. “Never heard-a’ ’at one before.”
“It’s complicated,” Col. Randal said. “Not sure anyone understands the British system of honors, orders and decorations—I don’t.
“Where’s Captain McKoy?”
“He’s at the Gezira,” Waldo said. “Joe’s havin’ dinner with one of the Kit Kat belly dancers before she has to go to work—late shift.”
Col. Randal went to the phone on King’s desk and rang the Operations Room, “Call the Gezira Club, Stephanie,” he said to the Royal Marine on duty. “Have the maître’d’ take a phone to Captain McKoy’s table—give him my compliments. Ask him to report to my suite at RFHQ as soon as he finishes dinner with the Kit Kat dancer he’s having a date with.”
“Sir!” The Royal Marine giggled. “Straightaway, Colonel Randal.”
King came in. “Captain Corrigan is in Alexandria, Chief—chasing women. I left a message at his hotel for him to call in as soon as he returns. Every other officer not in the hospital is scattered to the four winds—same for the troops.
“The Marines are calling all the contact numbers, but it could be some time before we run down everyone.”
Lieutenant Mandy Paige, OBE, RM, strolled in, having changed from her formal dress back into her off-duty uniform of cut-off jeans and peewee cowgirl boots. She was walking on air, having received an unexpected Order of the British Empire (OBE) for her service during the siege of RAF Habbaniya.
Mandy wanted to thank Col. Randal—he had recommended the award.
Before she had a chance, Col. Randal said, “Mandy, reach out to Major Sansom. Have him order the military police to go around to every bar in Cairo and Alexandria and announce a Raiding Forces recall order.”
“I’m on it, John.”
“Stick around after you talk to Sansom,” Col. Randal said. “The general’s going to brief us when he arrives. I want you there—we’re on alert.”
“Roger and wilco!”
Col. Randal walked over and knocked on the door to the bedroom. “Can I come in?”
Lady Jane and Brandy had not changed out of their evening gowns. They were on the bed, laughing and talking like teenagers about whatever it is two beautiful women who have grown up together and like each other talk about when they have both received fantastic surprises earlier in the evening.
Brandy had been the recipient of the highest award for valor that a nonservice member can receive—the George Cross (GC), for captaining the Seaborn family houseboat during OPERATION DYNAMO, the rescue at Dunkirk. The GC was the civilian equivalent of the military’s Victoria Cross. She was officially a national heroine.
Col. Randal felt guilty about interrupting them.
“Raiding Forces has been placed on alert,” he said. “Jim’s conducting a briefing later when he gets back from a meeting with Dudley Clarke at A-Force HQ.
“I’d like both of you to sit in—Parker too if she’s available. Who knows what mission Raiding Forces will be tasked with?”
“Absolutely,” Lady Jane said. “Confirmed.”
“Carry on, ladies,” Col. Randal said. “No rush.”
• • •
James “Baldie” Taylor arrived back at RFHQ. He had just left A-Force where he had been in conference with Colonel Dudley Clarke who had, himself, recently returned from a meeting with Field Marshal Claude Auchinleck.
The military situation was grim.
Field Marshal Erwin Rommel had counterattacked and was driving hard toward Tobruk. The Afrika Korps had advanced seventy-five miles in less than twenty-four hours. Virtually all of British Eighth Army’s tanks had been depleted in OPERATION CRUSADER. (Prime Minister Winston Churchill had shipped the last 350 tanks in England to Field Marshal Auchinleck prior to the operation. There were no replacements to be had.) The Desert Fox’s attack had taken Middle East Command by surprise and thrown the Grey Pillars set into a panic.
Unknown to anyone in Middle East Command, FM Auchinleck was in possession of Bletchley Park’s Ultra Secret intercepts of Rommel’s orders from his boss, Field Marshal Albert “Smiling Al” Kesselring, who had his orders from Oberkommando der Wehrmacht (OKW), who had theirs from the Führer Adolf Hitler—to use the German resupply of tanks to build a “stone wall.”
Afrika Korps’ mission was to be purely defensive.
The Desert Fox had disobeyed the orders—he attacked immediately, catching both his superiors and his enemy by surprise.
There was no way the Allies were going to be able to stop Afrika Korps in open battle. They simply did not have the armor. In the desert, the side with the most tanks wins.
Col. Clarke did not have a set of rules for A-Force like Raiding Forces, though he was developing one for Deception Operations. But he did subscribe to the doctrine laid down by Captains Fairbairn and Sykes, the inventors of the Commando Fighting Knife, who taught close quarters combat at the Commando Castle: “never fight fair.”
He had a plan.
When Colonel John Randal heard it, he said, “That’s it?”
“Affirmative,” Jim said. “All we have—now we need to sell it to your troops. You are the only person in Raiding Forces with the ‘Need to Know’ the whole story, so what is going to happen is that I am getting ready to stand up in front of your officers in a few minutes and lie.”
Col. Randal said, “We sure as hell wouldn’t want anyone to know the truth.”
Col. Clarke’s plan was simple. A-Force was going to try to bluff FM Rommel.
The idea was to deceive the Desert Fox into believing that Eighth Army was luring Afrika Korps into a trap by falling back to the Gazala Line, where a massive British tank army was lying in wait to conduct a double enveloping counterattack against his flanks after the Nazi thrust had spent itself.
Since those were exactly the tactics the Desert Fox favored, he might fall for it.
The hope was to cause FM Rommel to pause long enough for Middle East Command to reconstitute itself with a shipment of M-3 Grant tanks from the United States. The problem with Col. Clarke’s plan was that the Grants were not scheduled to arrive for weeks. It was not much of a plan.
There were so few people available at RFHQ that the briefing could be held in the third-floor suite. Those present were: Major the Lady Jane Seaborn, Captain “Geronimo” Joe McKoy, Waldo Treywick, Captain Penelope “Legs” Honeycutt-Parker, Lieutenant Mandy Paige and King.
Lieutenant Pamala Plum-Martin slipped in at the last second.
Col. Randal opened, “Rommel has launched a counterattack at El Agheila. Earlier this evening, an Afrika Korps armored column penetrated Eighth Army lines and is driving on Tobruk. The general will brief on what is expected of Raiding Forces in future. General.”
Jim stepped up in front of the small briefing area. “We do not have much information on the tactical situation at the moment. With that said, a plan is already in the works to deal with the incursion. Field Marshal Auchinleck will concentrate a tank force at Tobruk and one other location on the right flank of the German advance. At the appropriate moment, the Desert Rats will fall on Rommel in force after his advance runs out of steam.
“To aid the counterattack, Eighth Army requires the services of Raiding Forces. Our mission is to move to the extreme ri
ght flank of the Afrika Korps advance and carry out a diversion on the very edge of the Great Sand Sea. A camouflage officer will arrive at RFHQ tomorrow to instruct us in the art of turning jeeps into trucks and trucks into tanks. Our mission is to suddenly appear out of nowhere on the German right in the form of a full-blown armored division of one hundred fifty American Grant tanks.
“We are a distractor,” Jim said. “The idea is to trick Rommel into taking his eye off the main object—Tobruk. Having that many tanks suddenly pop up overnight like mushrooms should, as Colonel Randal has been known to say, ‘give the bad guys something to think about.’
“What are your questions?”
“When’re we a-movin’ out, Jim?” Capt. McKoy asked.
“As soon as Lieutenant Jaxx arrives,” Jim said. “Take one day to pull as much maintenance on the jeeps as possible, then we are off. Elements of Major Merritt’s company will link up with us en route to the objective. I shall be traveling with Colonel Randal’s command party.”
There were no more questions. The assignment sounded straightforward enough. Even as shot to pieces as Desert Patrol was after CRUSADER, they could handle this assignment.
As the briefing was breaking up, Col. Randal pulled Lady Jane aside.
“The minute we pull out,” he said, “put everyone onboard the Hudson and fly straight back to Oasis X—stay there until I tell you different. That means you too, Jane. Understood?”
“Loud and clear,” Lady Jane said softly, staring him straight in the eyes. “Do not worry about us.”
No fooling her—she knew there was nothing standing between Rommel’s point of attack and Cairo—should the Desert Fox choose to go around Tobruk.
• • •
Colonel John Randal and Major the Lady Jane Seaborn were sitting on the steps in the shallow end of the private pool that was exclusively for their suite on the roof of the third floor of RFHQ. They were looking at one million sparkling stars in the Egyptian sky and gazing out at the Mediterranean.
“Not had the opportunity,” Lady Jane said, putting her arm around his shoulders. “Terribly thoughtful of you to give the Field Marshal a list of honors to be awarded to all of us before you would accept your promotion. Not many officers would have done such a thing.”