IN AN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE LOCATED NEAR THE END OF A remote pier at the Royal Navy dock in Accra, a handful of officers had gathered. Two private automobiles and a motley assortment of rental civilian truck transports were parked outside. One of the cars belonged to Commodore Richard Seaborn, the other to SOE’s Jim “Baldie” Taylor. The latter had arrived with two passengers in tow: Lieutenant Colonel Dudley Clarke and Lieutenant Commander Ian Fleming.
Ostensibly on the final leg of a strategic reconnaissance mission to determine the best overland route from Cairo to Mombasa—which was true—Lieutenant Colonel Clarke was in fact in town to handle the misinformation campaign that would be implemented to attempt to mystify and mislead as to who had actually pirated three interned Axis ships from San Pedro Harbor following the raid. Not really expecting anyone to actually believe the story, Lieutenant Colonel Clarke planned to make the case that the crews had mutinied while most of their officers were away at Captain “Geronimo Joe” McKoy’s party and sailed into international waters, where they ran afoul of the Royal Navy.
The Portuguese were going to know that was not true, but the idea would give them a fig leaf to help cover the embarrassment resulting from British Commandos entering one of their protectorates and spiriting away three interned vessels from under their nose. The Germans and Italians were not going to be mystified or misled either, but no one in British Forces really cared how they felt about it.
As the personal assistant of Rear Admiral John Godfrey, director of Britain’s naval intelligence, Lieutenant Commander Fleming was on the mission to observe the operation for his boss and assist Lieutenant Colonel Clarke with the post-mission dissemination of misinformation.
The men gathered in the warehouse were there to clandestinely meet a ship.
The Royal Navy fast transport carrying Raiding Forces docked before first light. With their duffel bags over one shoulder, the Raiders disembarked and immediately boarded the small gypsy caravan of trucks waiting for them dockside. The troops were all dressed as seamen to throw off anyone who might be watching. Sailors arrived in port and went on shore leave all the time. Jim “Baldie” Taylor escorted the convoy to the bungalow in his Chevrolet.
Waiting to greet Raiding Forces when they piled out of the trucks at the cottage were Major John Randal and Captain Terry “Zorro” Stone. The troops were genuinely pleased to be reunited with their two senior officers. The salute Sergeant Major Maxwell Hicks rendered when he reported to his commanding officer would have done justice to a field marshal.
Included in the group was the Dartmouth Naval College instructor, Royal Navy Volunteer Reserve Sub-Lieutenant Nigel Perryweather, who had wanted to volunteer for special operations, along with three hand-picked Dartmouth cadets, all veterans of Operation Catapult. The three cadets had been immediately commissioned midshipmen on instructions from Major Lawrence “Larry” Grand, who had taken it upon himself to have the four transferred to Special Operations Executive in time to sail with Raiding Forces.
“Hornblower has had Mad Dog teaching us parachute landing falls for practically the entire trip, sir, getting us prepared for parachute school,” Sub-Lieutenant Perryweather quipped to his new commanding officer. “Surely PLFs have to be easier on solid ground than the undulating steel deck of a troop transport ship.”
“I wouldn’t count on it if I were you.”
The four German-speaking Commandos from Operation Ruthless were also in the group. They had volunteered for Raiding Forces and been accepted on a probationary basis, there being some concern that anyone crazy enough to volunteer for a suicide mission might not have the requisite mental discipline to fit into the unit. The men’s skill as linguists was so valuable an asset, however, it tipped the balance in their favor for a trial.
Last but not least were nine able-bodied Royal Navy sailors Commodore Richard Seaborn had arranged to have volunteer for the raid based on a suggestion made by Major Randal. The main lesson he and Captain Stone had learned observing the takedown of the French fleet was the value of having experienced seamen along on boarding operations, equipped with the tools of their trade.
“We’re going to need rated sailors for Lounge Lizard. Since any who go on the mission with us won’t be allowed to return to their ships anyway,” Major Randal had suggested to the commodore, “why don’t you arrange for them to have skill sets Randy can use to crew the MGB 345, sir?”
“Kill two birds with one stone,” Commodore Seaborn mused. “Capital idea, John!”
Jim “Baldie” Taylor was observing and carefully taking stock, as was Lieutenant Commander Ian Fleming, of the officers and men who would be executing the mission. The SOE operative did not fail to note the subtle, almost imperceptible change that came over both Major John Randal and Captain Terry “Zorro” Stone the moment they came in contact with their troops. Particularly telling was the young officers’ “command presence”: They seemed to stand more erect. When they spoke, their sentences were a little more clipped, their voices took on a slightly sharper ring, and the expressions on their faces tightened. Though they laughed and joked with the men, calling them by name, they were no longer the same happy-go-lucky bachelors he had first met on the Flying Clipper. The transformation was a significant indicator of the two young officers’ style of leadership. They took command seriously.
An Operations Order was immediately issued; Major Randal briefed. It was not a complete order, only a fragment of the order, called a “frag order,” consisting mainly of the “Concept of the Operation.” While another briefing of the mission was not really necessary at this stage, Major Randal believed it was important for him as the mission commander to go over the plan in order to let the troops hear from his lips exactly how he expected it to play out.
“Captain Stone has already issued your Operations Order. There is no change in the military or political situation. The mission is for Raiding Forces and attached personnel to enter San Pedro Harbor on the island of Rio Bonita under cover of darkness tomorrow night, board and seize three enemy ships interned there, and move them to international waters, where they will be handed over to the Royal Navy.
“The Ems is the primary target. The Germans have an illegal radio transmitter hidden somewhere on board and are using it to send Allied shipping reports to their surface raiders and U-boats with the purpose of vectoring them in on convoys traveling the South Atlantic Sea Route. As Captain Stone briefed you previously, the Nazis have been using this intelligence information to locate, attack, and sink a sizable number of our merchant fleet.
“I will lead an eleven-man team to board and capture the Ems. My assistant team leader is Lieutenant Stirling. Commodore Seaborn will be attached. Two veteran HMY Arrow ratings and two Lifeboat Servicemen will be attached, plus Sub-Lieutenant Perryweather, one midshipman, and three of the volunteer naval ratings. The individual task assignments of the team members will be as briefed in the Operations Order. My team will be designated Team 1.
“Team 2 will be composed of an eight-man party commanded by Captain Stone to board and capture the Giove. Lieutenant Corrigan will be the assistant team leader. Lieutenant Seaborn and two Lifeboat Servicemen will be attached, plus one midshipman and three volunteer naval ratings. The individual task assignments of the team members are as briefed in the Operations Order.
“Captain Pelham-Davies will command Team 3, a nine-man party to board and capture the Egadi. Lieutenant Shelby will be his assistant team leader. Two HMY Arrow ratings and two Lifeboat Servicemen will be attached, plus one midshipman and three volunteer naval ratings. The individual task assignments of the team members are as briefed in the Operations Order.
“Each team will travel to the objective on board one of the three tugboats. In the spirit of keeping it short and simple, we have designated them as Tugs 1, 2, and 3. My team will travel on Tugboat number one; Captain Stone’s team will travel on Tugboat number two; and Captain Pelham-Davies’ team will travel on Tugboat number three.
“Upon reaching the buoy that marks the entrance to San Pedro Harbor, Teams 1, 2, and 3 will each off-load their boarding ladder assault party into the tugboat’s dinghy. The dinghies will then be towed from that point until they reach their individual designated release points.
“At 2400 hours—or whenever the electricity in San Pedro is shut off and the lights go out—we attack. I say again, the signal to begin the attack is the town lights going out. Under no circumstances do we jump off until lights out.
“At that time, Tugs 1, 2, and 3 will proceed independently to their target ship towing their dinghies. As each tug approaches its target, the boarding ladder assault party in the dinghy will cast off and row to the portside boarding ladder and board the ship via the ladder.
“Each tug will continue on and pass by its target ship on the starboard side. Then each will come about, making a hard U-turn, and pull alongside its target ship, at which point the main boarding party aboard will immediately assault up the starboard side utilizing grappling hooks and lines.
“Upon arriving on deck, each main boarding party and boarding ladder assault party will break down into smaller teams as briefed in the Op Order, and each team will independently proceed on its assigned missions and carry out its individual tasks.
“After dropping off the main boarding party, each tugboat will make fast its towing wire and take its assigned ship under tow immediately upon the anchor chains being blown. Each tug will then proceed to tow its designated ship out of the harbor independently. No tug will stop for any reason until it reaches the three-mile limit Rio Bonita recognizes as the outer boundary of its territorial waters.
“Upon reaching international waters, the tugs, with prizes in tow, will rendezvous with a squadron of Royal Navy corvettes standing by and effect a handover of the captured enemy ships. Raiding Forces and all attached personnel will then be returned to the UK by Catalina flying boat and upon arrival begin that well-deserved leave I promised you after Tomcat.
“Men, you will never, ever mention Operation Lounge Lizard to anyone for the rest of your life because this mission never happened. Is that clear?”
“Clear, sir!” Raiding Forces thundered.
“What are your questions?”
While there may have been one or two men present who had points they might have liked to raise, there were no questions.
Rehearsals began immediately. Each boarding party had a number of tasks that it was required to accomplish once the men were on board their target ships. Raiding Forces personnel went through the standard crawl-walk-run cycle of rehearsal they had perfected at Achnacarry.
Crude outlines of the three enemy ships were scratched out on the beach. Then three groups of Commandos gathered, each group representing one of the boarding parties. Separately each of the three groups huddled together and started marching toward the marker that simulated the flashing light indicating the entrance to San Pedro Harbor. When each tugboat group reached the buoy marker, the boarding ladder assault party that would be traveling in the dinghy detached itself from the tugboat group and the two clusters of men then moved separately from each other.
The two clusters of Raiding Forces men marched on toward the outline of their target ship drawn in the sand. One bunch moved to the right and the other to the left. Then they simulated assaulting the ship from both sides simultaneously.
When the Raiders arrived on the simulated deck of their target, the bunched groups of men broke down into small teams and practiced moving out on their individual assignments.
Raiding Forces ran the exact same drill over and over and over again. To the uninitiated it probably looked silly—like little boys playing army. Truthfully, the first few times they performed the exercise it felt foolish to the Commandos, and the exercise was pretty ragged.
Each and every man knew, however, that there was nothing foolish about it; this was deadly serious business. What they were doing was definitely not a game. The kind of exaggerated attention to detail they were performing is what distinguishes a crack unit from the run-of-the-mill. As time went by, the men became smoother and smoother in their execution as their actions became reflexive.
Raiding Forces simulated every phase of the operation. The men were focused and worked hard. There was no horseplay. The basic building block of the process was repetition, repetition, and more repetition!
The attack on the German ship of war posed the most complicated challenge for a number of reasons. She was the biggest of the three vessels with the largest complement of crew, who were all picked men. The size of what was expected to be only a skeleton crew was going to be a challenge for the tiny band of Raiders to overcome quickly, which meant the capture had to be accomplished by the proper application of surprise, speed, and violence of action. The assaulters were going to have to hit hard and fast.
The Ems had two radio cabins: the official ship’s radio room and the secret station used to make clandestine broadcasts to the surface raiders and U-boats. Finding the ship’s main radio cabin was not going to pose any trouble because it would be clearly marked. The hidden radio was going to be considerably more difficult; it had to be well concealed, otherwise the port authorities would have discovered it long before now.
Lieutenant “Pyro” Percy Stirling was assigned the responsibility of finding and disabling the clandestine radio before it could broadcast news of the raid. He had as his assistant Sergeant Mickey Duggan, the veteran Royal Marine signaler of Calais fame. His team consisted of one of the Dartmouth midshipmen, one of the volunteer sailors to handle any technical problems of a nautical nature, and one of the Operation Ruthless Commandos who was fluent in German.
Sergeant Mike “March or Die” Mikkalis, formerly of the French Foreign Legion, King’s Royal Rifle Corps, and Swamp Fox Force, had the mission of securing the German crew members, which did not bode well for the health and welfare of any recalcitrant Nazi sailor. The hulking German-speaking Operation Ruthless Commando who had threatened to snap Major Randal’s neck was attached to his team.
Sub-Lieutenant Perryweather, with a team of two of the volunteer sailors and two Raiders, was tasked with securing the engine room of the Ems and attempting to get up steam. No one was counting on it, but if the German warship could make way under her own power, so much the better. If she could steam out instead of being towed, the ship could travel faster, which is highly desirable when, as Major Randal so colorfully put it, “you’re getting the hell out of Dodge.” Two of the German-speaking Commandos were attached to communicate with the Kriegsmarine stokers.
During the first break in the training, Major John Randal assembled all the Navy volunteer personnel for an informal briefing. Jim “Baldie” Taylor, Lieutenant Colonel Dudley Clarke, and Lieutenant Commander Ian Fleming hovered in back of the formation listening in.
Time was short and Major Randal wanted to give the bluejackets an opportunity to spend some time with their commanding officer. Infusing new men into a tight-knit unit that had trained to a razor’s edge and fought together was not the best thing to do immediately prior to launching a complex special operation. For Lounge Lizard, Raiding Forces had no choice.
“Well, men, I guess you are wondering why I called you here today?” Major Randal said to the assembled group.
That’s exactly what he had said to the Riflemen and handful of Marines destined to become Swamp Fox Force on his first day at Calais. It had worked to lower the stress level then and it worked now. The sailors all laughed; they knew they were going into action. There was no guarantee they were all going to come back. Maybe none of them would come back. Clearly their new commanding officer, who would be sharing the risks, did not seem unduly concerned. Tension in the group ratcheted down precipitously.
Unlike the men of Swamp Fox Force on that day at Calais, the bluejackets already possessed quite a lot of information about Major Randal; during the voyage down to the Gold Coast, the Raiders had filled them in on everything they needed to know on that score. In addition, Sub-Lieutenant Nigel Perryweather was able to provide a tale of his own about the major’s actions on the French submarine Surcouf. Both the new recruits and the tough Raiding Forces Commandos, hearing about it for the first time, found it to their liking.
“All of you men are volunteers,” Major Randal continued. “Since our mission is Most Secret and involves invading a neutral protectorate, none of you will be allowed to return to your old berths after it’s over. In fact, as of now you are members of a secret organization called Special Operations Executive, but you can never tell anyone because even its initials, SOE, are classified.”
The officers as well as the ratings looked surprised; no one had explained the implications of volunteering in those terms.
Major Randal’s announcement had the effect of binding the newcomers together in a way they had not felt before; they were no longer outsiders. SOE was something big, it sounded dangerous, and now that they knew it existed, being the kind of men who volunteer for hazardous assignments, they wanted to be a part of it whatever it was.
“After Lounge Lizard is over,” Major Randal said casually, “the men we invite can continue on in Raiding Forces or stay with SOE at their own discretion.
“For the initial assault, every one of you is paired with a Raider. Stick to him like glue. You are all rated men with certain skills, you’ve been thoroughly briefed on your individual assignments, and you know exactly what to do. That’s why you’re here. Focus on your job, do your duty, leave the rest to the Raiding Forces’ studs, and everything will be okay.”
Upon the conclusion of Major Randal’s talk, a middle-aged civilian he had never seen before approached and introduced himself.
“Major, my name is Ray Terhune,” he said with a distinct Australian accent.
“Mr. Terhune, would you kindly explain to me how it is you came to be here?” Major Randal demanded sharply. “This is a secure site.”
“Yes sir. Major Grand pulled me off my duties as an instructor in naval demolitions and sabotage at a school his firm operates for some people who have a need to know those sorts of things. On the voyage down, I have been teaching your lads the gentle art of naval demolitions. In peacetime I make a living as a naval salvage engineer. Before that I was Royal Navy.”
“What is it exactly you’ve been teaching my people?”
“Breaching charges, mostly; your men are going to need to blow open the metal doors on the ships they will be searching. I have also worked up prepared charges to cut each ship’s anchor chains.”
“Well, thank you very much, Mr. Terhune. Now if you’ll excuse—”
“Major, you have a potential problem that could put paid to your operation right enough before it gets fairly started, and no one seems to be paying any attention to it. It seems to have been overlooked.”
“And what might that be?”
“Scuttling charges. I doubt the Italians have them on their two ships, but I’m willing to wager the Germans have scuttling charges in place on the Ems, just lurking there waiting to be detonated in the event of an attack like the one you lads are planning.”
“Commodore,” Major Randal called out immediately. “Sir, would you step over here a moment? Okay, Mr. Terhune, take it from the top.”
After listening to the former Royal Navy hard-hat diver, Commodore Seaborn quickly concurred. “Quite right. I should have anticipated scuttling charges myself.”
“Well, what’s the solution, Mr. Terhune?” asked Raiding Forces’ commander.
“Simple, actually. You are going to have to locate and disarm the charges before the Jerries detonate ’em, Major, and I’m afraid I happen to be the only man present qualified for that kind of work.”
Major John Randal looked at him closely, “You volunteering?”
“I was Royal Navy for twenty years, a hard-hat diver, and a demolitions man,” Mr. Terhune repeated. “I reckon I can do one more job for ol’ England.”
Major Randal signaled Royal Marine Butch Hoolihan.
“Sir?”
“Hoolihan, you know Mr. Terhune?”
“Yes sir.”
“I have a mission for you.”
“Sir!”
“Mr. Terhune is going to board the Ems with the boarding ladder assault party to locate and dismantle scuttling charges that may or may not be on board her. His task has top priority. Starting now, you’re his guardian angel.”
“Sir!”
“Do not permit anyone to interfere with Mr. Terhune in the execution of his duties. You’re not to allow him out of your sight until this operation is over. Is that clear?”
“Clear, sir!”
“Bring him back alive, Butch.”