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[After
basic training] the Etonian, several others from another squad and myself, were
selected to go for officer training at 165 OCTU at Dunbar on the East Coast.
Being the tallest of the draft and a lance corporal by that time, I was the
right hand marker for the squad. Andy Drummond, the Regimental Sergeant Major,
emerged from his office and inspected us. His first words of encouragement to us
were unforgettable – “I knew that things in France were not going that well but
Jesus they can not be this bad”. The time was just before Dunkirk.
165
Officer Cadet Training Unit at Dunbar, in common with similar establishments
elsewhere, had the unenviable task of turning out officers for the rapidly
expanding Army. The process was scheduled to take six months and was very hard
work indeed. The assumption was that, although we all came from various infantry
regiments and had been ‘trained’, we actually knew nothing and therefore had to
start all over again with the simplest of drill movements. The barrack square
was in the centre of Dunbar town and the local inhabitants enjoyed … watching us
being chased around.
As
Officer Cadets the instructors addressed us as “Sir”. One unfortunate
ex-cavalryman once had the temerity to address our Company Sergeant Major as
“Sgt-Major”. The bawled reply was that “Mr Whilloughby Sir, I’m Sir to you Sir
and you are Sir to me Sir, and don’t you ever forget that.”
…
Our time
at Dunbar coincided with the fall of France. As a result, we had to study and
drill during daylight hours and then march off to the East Lothian beaches, man
the coastal defences and act as first-line anti-invasion troops overnight. In
the morning we were then expected to march back and appear neat and tidy for
another day’s instruction. Our night-time post was defending Bellhaven beach, a
stretch of sand several miles long. Had the enemy chosen to come we could have
done little about it, for we had only 25 rounds each.
I have
never been as fit at any time in my life before or since. The final exercise
involved marching over 70 miles and fighting a rearguard against an ‘enemy’ who
covered the same distance in SMT buses. What nearly killed us, however, was the
brass band of the Sherwood Foresters who thought they would do us a favour and
help us by playing us back into camp over the last stretch of five miles.
…
I only
served in the Seaforths for a few months before fate took a hand again. We were
then the senior battalion in 152 Brigade of the famous 51st Highland
Division. Major General Sir Alan Cunningham commanded the reformed Division. One
day, as one of the newly joined subalterns, I was told to report to Divisional
Headquarters near Nairn. On arrival there I was interviewed by the General
himself who told us that he was leaving to take over command as C in C East
Africa and wanted some of his own subalterns to go out there with him, would we
volunteer to go? Of course we said we would
…
After a
week, we sailed again [after a journey around the Cape, to Durban] for Mombasa
and Kenya. The only incident on this final leg of the journey was that early on
the morning of our arrival in Mombasa harbour, a 19-year old subaltern in the
Green Howards in the next cabin to me, who was engaged to a Yorkshire girl, shot
himself. He believed he had been infected with VD while in Leeds.
…
Our draft
of over a hundred subalterns had been sent to Nairobi as battle-replacements for
the casualties expected in the campaign to recapture Ethiopia and Somalia from
the Italians. However, such was the speed of General Cunningham’s advance that
casualties were lighter than anyone had expected, and nobody seemed to know what
to do with us.
Eventually I and a few others were told to report to the depot of the Northern
Rhodesian Regiment at Lusaka in order to make up the officer strength of three
Northern Rhodesian battalions that were being formed into the 27th
(NR) Infantry Brigade there.
The
journey from Nairobi to Lusaka turned out to be by three-ton truck down the
Great North Road. This at the time was a single-width dirt track down through
Tanganyika. The distance from Nairobi was some 1,600 miles, which took our
convoy of 30 vehicles exactly four weeks. Each day was spent either driving or
waiting at a numerous river crossing. Part of the delay was caused by having to
give way to the trucks of the South African Division on its way North. Another
part was caused by the fact that owing to the rainy season the road surface
became a skating rink after each hour. There were frequent waits, particularly
at river crossings, for the flood waters to go down sufficiently so that we
could get our trucks across.
There was
a plus side to this experience. It introduced us to the vastness of Africa and
its haunting beauty. It taught us to be self-reliant and resourceful, how to be
comfortable while living rough on safari, how stunningly beautiful the African
night sky is, and many other things.
…
Our
duties [on arrival], apart from training, were interesting though what they
contributed to the overall war effort is quite another matter. I spent a tour of
duty with Pete Henley guarding the Victoria Falls bridge over the Zambezi. The
railway from South Africa to the Copper Belt was vital to the whole war effort,
for its single track carried copper, and once a week carried 1500 tons of
explosive up to the mines. Thursdays, when these explosives were transported,
was one of our busiest days, and the surrounding countryside [around] the bridge
itself had to be searched. The potential enemy was the South African Nazi party
(the Ossowa Brandwag), who did succeed in blowing up a train further south at a
place called Plumtree in Southern Rhodesia. While we were at Victoria Falls
during the rains we were continuously soaked by spray, but as the nearby hotel
was still the holiday destination of many pretty Rhodesian girls, life had its
compensations.
…
Perhaps
the highlight of this period was when C Company was chosen to carry out a
recruiting safari along the banks of the Upper Zambezi in Barotseland. We
marched from village to village, usually in the early morning while it was still
cool. We then rested all day and smartened ourselves up for a parade in the late
afternoon when we beat Retreat and gave an exhibition of drill. This was
followed by a party given by the villagers to mark the occasion, and we enlisted
the men pre-selected by the village headmen, most of whom were themselves
retired NCOs from the regiment anyway. We then presented those selected with a
pair of boots and the King’s shilling which ritual meant that they were deemed
to have enlisted.
…
Life at
Lusaka also had its amusing side. The RSM of the depot was called
Chisengwalumbe, a charming old man with over thirty years service in the
regiment. When I was appointed Battalion Intelligence Officer and Assistant
Adjutant I got to know the old boy well. He had seen smarter days but when one
evening he appeared on Retreat parade in wellington boots, it was decided that
he ought to be retired. He was given a magnificent Zebu bull as his retirement
present but sadly, he did not retire immediately. The beast became the bane of
my life, for it had to be taken everywhere Chisengwalumbe went, in a three ton
truck. Making these necessary transport arrangements was apparently the task of
the Assistant Adjutant.
Chisengwalumbe had been in London representing the regiment at the coronation of
George VI in 1937. He was the senior RSM in the Empire and was treated as such,
with guardsmen and other regimental RSMs sitting to attention as a mark of
respect whenever he entered the mess at Chelsea barracks. There was a story that
he had given the order “as you were” to a parade of guardsmen at Buckingham
Palace on one occasion.
…
the
formal Saturday morning Battalion-parade was practicing a complicated drill
movement known as “Advance in Review Order”, which involved the troops advancing
a certain number of paces, halting and then presenting arms without any further
orders being given. It was, in fact, a practice for His Excellency the
Governor’s Sovereign’s Parade. I was in charge of the parade being watched by
the Colonel and our European RSM, a Coldstream guardsman called Weston. On the
command being given 600 men set off audibly counting their paces as they went.
They arrived, halted and presented arms. So far so good and the band struck up.
Suddenly, all hell broke loose as a large bush-buck appeared out of the long
grass surrounding the parade ground on one side, galloped across in front of the
parade and bolted into the long grass opposite. The whole parade gave chase,
shouting “Nyama” (Meat) and throwing their rifles down as they went, leaving
myself, an apoplectic RSM and the Colonel as the only three standing fast. In
seconds the parade ground was deserted and had the appearance of a military
disaster with abandoned rifles and kit everywhere.
…
My
batman, a member of the Bemba tribe lived as far from the sea as was possible in
Africa, sat on a bollard alongside the ship and asked me “Where do we go from
here?” I replied in Chinyanja that we were going in this large ‘canoe’. The
reply came, “Who do you think you’re kidding, that canoe won’t float: it is made
of iron and is sitting on the bottom. That is a factory”. Eventually we were all
safely aboard and set sail for Diego Suarez in Madagascar. Our task there was to
take over from 121 Force, thus allowing them to take part in freeing the rest of
the island before going on to Burma.
…
Altogether I was based in Madagascar for over two years. Firstly with 27 Brigade
Headquarters, then … I was transferred to the Staff as G3 Intelligence at Island
Area Headquarters at Joffreville on the edge of the rain forest. Our command
included Madagascar, the Comoros, Diego Garcia, Seychelles, Mauritius and
Reunion. My main task was preparing the data for descriptive, statistical,
geographical and military information volumes for each of these places.
While I
was there we were given the service of the Mauritius Regiment to enhance the
garrison. They promptly mutinied because they had enlisted only to defend
Mauritius, whereas the War Office interpretation of that was that they were
defending their island by being stationed in Madagascar.
…
[One]
mission was to try and establish whether there was any link between the
Mauritius Regiment mutiny and the pro-Japanese Indian National Army
…
I was
also involved in cracking the illegal dhow trade in the Gulf of Aden. Petrol for
the Army was transported as deck cargo in drums by dhows based in Aden.
For me
the best thing about being posted to Somaliland was that I met my future wife,
Bobbie there. She was the Brigadier’s secretary and also helped me with my own
office work. As there were only three female army clerks on the station and some
100-plus male Europeans there I considered myself lucky to have been chosen by
her…
The
Brigadier, Andy Anderson of the Cameronians took a keen interest in the
burgeoning romance between his Secretary and his Intelligence Officer. He lent
us his staff car to do our courting in and did everything he could to help us.
Bobbie left … on leave to Kenya while I was remained behind. One morning
Brigadier Anderson came into my office and told me to pack a suitcase and he
would run me to the airstrip. On the way in his car he admitted that his mail
that morning had contained orders for me to return to the UK after 5 years
overseas service, via Aden. But, if I went on the flight to Nairobi then
Bobbie
and I could get married and go home via Mombasa. He later told GHQ that,
regrettably, I had already left that very morning for leave in Kenya.
…
On
arrival in Nairobi [after marriage] we booked into the Norfolk Hotel to await
orders to leave for the UK. At first the management were sceptical about our
claim to be married because our ration cards were in the names of Captain
Macleod and Corporal Tweedie, but when they saw the account of our wedding in
the paper, they sent us up a bottle of champagne with their compliments.
…
[post-demobilisation] Mau Mau policeman
Because
of the Emergency, many young European Kenyans were called up through the Kenya
Regiment … Other Europeans stayed at their civilian work but joined the Kenya
Police Reserve in order to help part time if required.
Initially
that is what I did too, but after my quick trip to Britain for the coronation,
it began to look as if my previous experience in intelligence might be useful. I
therefore joined the regular force as the Inspector in charge of the Special
Branch at Kitale in late 1953.
By the
following Easter all the Kikuyu in Kitale district had been screened, putting a
few in jail but repatriating the majority to their home district. We built up a
picture of when, where and by whom they had been initiated into Mau Mau. Using
the same intelligence and interrogating techniques I had learnt as Area
Intelligence Officer in Bremen, I also managed to intercept an armed party of
Kikuyu from Uganda on their way home to Kikuyuland to join the forest
terrorists. This minor triumph had resulted in a short gunfight in the forest on
Mount Elgon near Kitale and the later conviction of three harmless looking men
for being in a prohibited area, which was a capital offence.
…
Since all
our suspects were Mau Mau oathed Kikuyu, initial interrogations were conducted
in Kikuyu until the suspect had committed himself to so-operate with the team
when, usually much to his surprise, he realised that we Europeans also formed
part of the team. The system worked well and eventually resulted in a clear
picture of Mau Mau activity in many locations in Kikuyuland.
This
question of committing oneself is an important part of the Kikuyu psyche. They
are a superstitious tribe. The Mau Mau oath was based on a firm commitment
backed with a death sentence for non-compliance. The oaths taken were along the
lines of “If I do (or don’t do) so and so … may this oath kill me.” Most who
took the oath firmly believed that it would. Thus, when we succeeded, as we
always did, in persuading the suspect that although he had admitted taking the
Mau Mau oath, he was still alive and that we had no intention of killing him,
one could literally observe a mental burden being lifted from his shoulders. He
would then quite happily co-operate and truthfully tell you anything you might
ask him. It was a simple and immediate complete transfer of loyalty.
…
The
British Army tended to look upon operations against the Mau Mau as training
exercises. Their lack of both jungle experience and local knowledge made them of
but limited effectiveness.
…
Indeed
one British Battalion ambushed and shot dead its own Colonel simply through
being jittery and ‘trigger happy’ … I well remember an occasion when one famous
Regiment insisted that our local forces be excluded from an isolated area of
forest so that they could carry out a ‘Sweep’. They duly reported that there
were no gangs in the area.
When we
went back in later that night, we found over 30 terrorists who told us that they
had spent the day up in the trees watching the soldiers below.
…
We found
that the best way for us to contact the forest terrorists was to masquerade as
terrorists ourselves. We therefore developed the concept of pseudo-gangs. This
meant dressing as the terrorists did in ragged clothes and skins and not washing
for days, for those living in the forest had so developed their sense of smell
so as to recognise even the faint scent of soap. The Europeans wore Negroid
wigs, made out of mops, and blackened their faces with boot polish. We stayed in
the background thus allowing African fluent Kikuyu speakers to appear to lead
our pseudo-gangs.
…
Everyone
must at and drink. In many instances this gave us the key to contacting the real
gangs. They were in the habit of setting snares for small game and visiting them
regularly in search of food. We used them therefore to site ambushes along their
snare-line and quietly overpower whichever gang member came to check them.
…
Sometimes
we found ourselves at odds with the police. If we were to persuade forest
terrorists to trust us, surrender and work with us, we had to find ways of
clandestinely re-introducing them to civilian life outside the forests. Merely
having been in the forest was a capital offence so that our first task was to
shield them from the attentions of our own colleagues … We had to keep faith
with those that trusted us.
Sometimes
we reported these former terrorists as having been ‘killed’ after we had given
them a new identity…
On other
occasions … we found ourselves acting unlawfully with the tacit approval of the
authorities in the District. Once we even ‘ambushed’ a visiting left-wing MP’s
party from the UK, who had expressed the opinion that the dangers from Mau Mau
were grossly exaggerated. The party was in no danger, but being a pacifist and
never having been under fire before, a few rounds directed over the visitors’
heads effected their headlong return to Nairobi. There was less talk of
exaggeration from the MP concerned after that.
The CID
spent at least some of their time closely monitoring us. On more than one
occasion I was asked whether a man we had reported as being killed had been
legally killed. My stock reply was to give them a map reference deep in the
forest and tell them to go and see. They never did so. |
