The Lost Band of Brothers

For Edward Stanley D. Sewell, my grandson, with my love. Who, although he doesn’t know it yet, enjoys a life of freedom purchased with the courage of men such as these.

The Germans have a phrase for heroes: ‘Always the tallest poppies [
Mohnblumen
] are taken’. These were proper people and I hope that some day a book will be written about them.

Lord Lovat,
March Past

My thanks go, first and foremost, to the relatives of the men whose wartime exploits are described below. Without them, Britain’s ‘band of brothers’ would have stayed in the shadows of history: To ‘J.E.A.’, Ernest Appleyard, whose labour of love and sorrow – the publication of
Geoffrey
, a slim volume of letters sent home by his son – has provided the framework for all that follows and has been quoted from frequently; to John Appleyard, Geoffrey’s half-brother, for his help and support, and for escorting me around Linton, the one-time family home; to the distant relatives of Gus March-Phillipps, Christina Bennett and Harriet Greer, for the loan of family photographs and whose retrieval of a tape and a long-forgotten transcript brought the story of Gus to life; to Jennifer and Tom Auld; to Malcolm Hayes, Graham Hayes’ nephew, for the loan of other photographs and for filling in some of the gaps; to Annabel Grace Hayes, Graham’s niece, who shared a suitcase of forgotten letters and papers; to Chris Rooney, son of Oswald ‘Mickey’ Rooney, for photographs and useful background; to Peter Stokes, MBE, son of Horace ‘Stokey’ Stokes, whose almost-forgotten, unpublished, well-written memoirs brought those days so vividly to life; and to James Edgar in Australia, doughty survivor of Operations
Branford
and
Basalt
, and a veteran who still, at 93, enjoys total recall of those turbulent days. I am grateful also to Phil Ventham, local Dorset historian, and to the current owners of Anderson Manor, who allowed me into their beautiful home, patiently answered my questions and showed me where the ghosts once walked.

My thanks also go to historian Major General Julian Thompson, CB, OBE, commander of 3 Commando Brigade during the Falklands conflict and Visiting Professor at the Department of War Studies, King’s College, London; to Lt Col David Owen, MBE, curator of the Royal Corps of Transport (formally RASC) Medal Collection, held at the headquarters of the Royal Logistic Corps at Deepcut, Surrey; to Colour Sergeant Gary Chapman at 3 Commando Brigade Headquarters, Stonehouse; and to David Harrison, respected amateur SOE historian. I am most grateful also to the helpful staff at the Imperial War Museum and at The National Archives, Kew; to Dr Steven Kippax, whose efforts on my behalf have greatly assisted in the retrieval of important wartime documents. Geoff Slee and his Combined Operations website were also able to open several doors. I am most grateful also to staff of the highly efficient National Meteorological Archive, Exeter, who were able to retrieve – instantly, it seemed – wartime weather conditions on what was to become Omaha beach and I am grateful also for the help of the United Kingdom Hydrographic Office, Taunton.

I have drawn heavily upon the works of other authors to compile this history:
Dunkirk
by Hugh Sebag-Montefiore, one of the very best accounts of the fighting withdrawal to the French coast in 1940;
The Commandos 1940
–1946
by Charles Messenger;
The Green Beret
by Hilary St George Saunders; and
Anders Lassen VC
,
MC of the SAS
by Mike Langley. I am also grateful to French authors Gérard Fournier and André Heintz for
‘If I
Must Die …’
, their account of the
Aquatint
raid and to the late Peter Kemp’s now out-of-print
No Colours or Crest.
I am grateful also to Steven Forge of Oundle School in Sussex for his help in sourcing photographs of ex-Oundle pupil Patrick Dudgeon, MC.

Lastly, I am more grateful than words can express to my wife, Marguerite, whose support and patience remained unwavering as I pieced together the untold story of
Maid Honor
and the men of the Small Scale Raiding Force. Because it mattered to them, it mattered to me and to her, that was enough.

        
Title

        
Dedication

        
Acknowledgements

        
List of Abbreviations

        
Foreword

        
Prelude

  
1    
Das Sichelschnitt
– the ‘sickle cut’

  
2    Backs to the Wall

  
3    Commando Training

  
4    Cloaks and Rudders

  
5    Kayaks and Medals

  
6    Passage to Africa

  
7    With Friends Such As These …

  
8    Assault on a Duchess

  
9    A Very Proper Lie

10    Medals, Marjorie and Marriage

11    Anderson Manor

12    Raiders

13    ‘A small and very unobtrusive party …’

14    Disaster

15    Loss and Condolence

16    The Tying of Hands

17    Friends and Enemies in High Places

18    Operation
Fahrenheit

19    Eclipse

20    Endings

        
Bibliography

        
Plates

        
Copyright

This is a story about a group of men, of whom Brigadier Lord Lovat wrote ‘These were proper people and I hope that some day a book will be written about them.’ Well, here it is at last.

The Second World War saw the birth of a host of special units, many in response to Winston Churchill’s wish to strike back at the foe after the ejection of the British Army from France in June 1940. Those who joined them did so for a variety of motives: adventure, revenge for the shame of defeat in France and Flanders, to have a ‘crack at the enemy’.

Many of these men were what might be described as ‘self-starters’. They did not hang about waiting for someone to give them a job to do, but often initiated the task themselves. The people in this book were no exception. In this case soldiers in the Special Operations Executive (SOE), but actually part of the Combined Operations Small Scale Raiding Force (SSRF) founded by Vice Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten in February 1942. In the early days of Special Forces, units often found themselves serving two or more masters. Occasionally members of such a unit were able to play on the ‘left hand not quite knowing what the right hand was up to’ to their advantage. This could be counter-productive. For example, the leaders of the SSRF exerted pressure on their masters to authorise nightly raids along the whole coastline of occupied Europe, unaware whether or not this fitted in with the overall plan which might call for a more selective approach. For example, one might wish to avoid drawing attention to a particular stretch of coastline because it figured in future invasion plans, in which case a more clandestine operation might be appropriate. The problem: there was a lack of overall co-ordination of raiding policy at the time.

But the story starts well before the founding of the SSRF and among other escapades includes an operation involving a trawler called
Maid Honor
, two tugs and an expedition to West Africa. The operation, codename
Postmaster
, breached Spanish neutrality and resulted in a cover up including some creative lying by Sir Anthony Eden, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs; Sir Francis Drake would have heartily approved.

On return to England, the leader of the
Postmaster
force, Major Gus March-Phillipps, suggested that a small scale raiding force of around 100 men be formed to raid the German-held coastline of France – hence the SSRF. The small matter of ownership of the force was sorted out: it would belong to SOE, but Mountbatten’s Combined Operations Headquarters (COHQ) would task it. To add to the tangled lines of command and control, the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) also had a ‘vote’ when it came to deciding whether or not an SSRF raid would go ahead or not.