The Sultan of Oman’s Special Forces, 1985–89
I previously had first-hand dealings with the Sultan of Oman’s Special Forces (SSF) when I was working with KMS in London. The recently appointed commanding officer was Keith F whom I had known well during my time in both the British SAS and the Parachute Regiment. I was made an offer of a three-year contract with the SSF as commander of D Squadron, the counterterrorism squadron and, soon after, this appointment also included being the regimental second-in-command.
The regiment was and still is based at Zeak, on the top of the mountain escarpment on a large plateau. The mountains of Jebel Dhofar, which rise to 3,000 feet, encircle the Salalah plain and stretch westwards into Yemen. The rugged terrain makes communications very difficult and the population remains dominated by isolated communities of tribesmen.
The SSF was composed of mountain people from the Dhofar, the southern region of Oman, and these Jebalis (jebel means ‘mountain’ in Arabic) were fierce, loyal and independent leading a nomadic existence in the mountains between Salalah and the Yemen.
The Dhofaris, including the Jebalis, had been a source of irritation to Sultan Said bin Taimur, the absolute ruler and father of the present sultan, Qaboos bin Said. He ensured that very little money was invested in the area or its infrastructure. Oman had oil money, but the sultan was a reactionary and was quite happy for Oman to remain in the dark ages even though neighbouring countries such as the United Arab Emirates were investing in the education of their citizens and the modernisation of their countries.
Following the British withdrawal from Aden and the Yemen, communist factions fomented an insurrection amongst the Yemeni people and this crossed across into Dhofar. A bloody rebellion against Sultan Said bin Taimur was started in the Dhofar region in 1962 and this continued until 1976. The Sultan utilised Baluchi soldiers from southern India, British Army training teams and an Iranian brigade as well as Oman’s own limited military resources to try to quell the rebellion. On 23 July 1970 the present sultan, Sultan Qaboos, overthrew his father in a virtually bloodless coup. His father banished himself to the Savoy hotel in London where he stayed until he died in 1972.
Sultan Qaboos took a completely different view from his father and knew that financial investment and modernisation were the keys to peace in the southern provinces. Moreover, by pursuing these aims, he removed the main sources of disaffection amongst the Dhofaris, which had been promoted by their Marxist Yemeni agitators. In 1976 the Dhofar War, as it was known, was declared over; however, there remained a number of armed and well-trained Jebalis who, despite receiving financial assistance and weapon amnesties, could become a source of potential discontent within the region. These Jebalis who had been former enemy, or Adoo, as well as other Jebalis were recruited into a new unit called the Sultan of Oman’s Special Force (SSF). SSF was managed logistically by KMS Limited in London. It was a massive and, of course, lucrative undertaking.
The first commander of SSF was Alan ‘Ram’ S, a Royal Marine, former commander of the Special Boat Service (SBS) and a recipient of the Military Cross. A new commanding officer was sought when he left the unit and, in the interim, Andrew N commanded the unit. Andrew N was a former Intelligence Corps officer who had served in the intelligence cell at 22 SAS in Hereford and then with the Director of Special Forces in London. After leaving the army he joined KMS. I had replaced him in KMS in London when he went out to Oman. The designated commanding officer was Julian ‘Tony’ B, MBE MC, with whom I had served in 22 SAS. Sadly, while they were together in Oman during their handover both Tony and Andrew N were killed on 2 May 1981 when the Range Rover in which they were travelling overturned near the Oman Air Force base in Thumrait, Dhofar.
The post of commander of the SSF was filled by Keith F – an interesting character. I knew him from when he was second-in-command of 22 SAS and he was also a former Parachute Regiment officer. He was very much a go-getter. He wasn’t destined to command a regular SAS regiment, but he had commanded 21 SAS. He had an unusual background for an officer, having joined the army later in life after having first been a cub reporter for a northern newspaper.
Following Keith’s offer, I officially joined the SSF in 1985. Unfortunately, it was an unaccompanied posting and the terms of service were three months’ duty, followed by a month of leave. I did miss my wife and family and some three years of my two children growing up. I hope I was able to make up for my absences by the holidays we were able to have when we were all together during my leave periods.
The main base at Zeak was centrally placed for nearly all the tribes in the area. There was another smaller camp in the north of Oman near the international airport at Seeb. Some years later a second SSF regiment was created and based in this other camp.
The soldiers, NCOs and junior officers of the regiment were all Jebalis while the senior officers were former British officers and senior NCOs, the majority of whom had served in the British SAS. British officers of the Sultan’s Armed Forces (SAF) Baluchi Battalions, who still provided many of the Omani forces, would disparagingly call the SSF ‘The Corporals on the Hill’, because of the number of former 22 SAS NCOs who were now officers in the unit.
Ironically, a number of members of the regiment had been on opposite sides during the Dhofar War and this led to many interesting discussions as the older Jebalis and the SAS soldiers would compare various actions in which they had both participated throughout the mountains.
Working alongside me at SSF Headquarters was the late Captain Tony F MBE. Tony had also been a senior NCO in 22 SAS and had been seriously injured in a contact in September 1975 with the Adoo while serving in Oman. The incident left him wheelchair-bound but despite his very serious injuries he attended Cairo University and was a fluent Arabist. He was also an expert in all the various Dhofari tribes and their families. Despite the paralysis of his lower limbs he was fiercely independent and did not let his mobility issues get him down. He had a suitably converted car and would often drive himself the 620 miles between Muscat, the capital of Oman, and Salalah, the capital of Dhofar Province, on his own. He was highly respected by everyone in the SSF and was awarded an MBE in 1987. Sadly, in 1994, he succumbed to his injuries, several years after he had left the SSF.
The SSF was, as would be expected, very well resourced and financed. Its equipment and facilities were of the highest order. The uniform was either green Dacron or camouflage topped by a beret of imperial purple – the personal colour choice of Sultan Qaboos. One of the regiment’s nicknames was ‘The Lavender Hill Mob’.
The unit had three ‘Sabre’ (fighting) squadrons, which were highly mobile and based on desert Land Rovers, and a counterterrorism squadron. All operational members of the unit were para trained and parachute drops were frequently carried out from Oman Air Force (SOAF) aircraft, mainly Skyvans.
After I had been with the SSF a while I was able to convince Keith F that he should look elsewhere for suitably qualified officers rather than simply from within British Special Forces. He agreed, and we were subsequently joined by some excellent former Rhodesian Army officers and an Australian Vietnam veteran as well as two other New Zealanders. To a man they were all very professional officers and more widely experienced than the former SAS SSF officers, most of whom had been other ranks in the SAS. The former Rhodesian Army officers, in particular, had a great deal of recent combat experience and this was most useful in developing operational procedures for the SSF. We had a Rhodesian Army signals officer and officers from the Selous Scouts and the Rhodesian SAS.
The New Zealanders were Keith Rawlings, who had been at Staff College with me and commanded the SSF Headquarters Company, and Ron Mark, who was a former New Zealand officer from the New Zealand Corps of Electrical and Mechanical Engineers. Ron had transferred from the Sultan’s Armed Forces (SAF) and commanded the very efficient SSF workshops. Ron and Keith were both excellent additions to the SSF and brought a great deal of practical experience to the unit. Ron is now the New Zealand minister of defence and the minister of veterans’ affairs – a very well-respected New Zealand senior politician.
The former Rhodesian officers brought their families to Oman. Married accommodation was not available to non-Omanis and Keith F was not prepared to organise any. They rented basic accommodation in Salalah for their families and they certainly added a healthy dimension to the unit by participating in mess functions.
However, eventually, they were replaced by Omanis; this had been the long-term plan all along, but it also seemed that Keith F was no longer comfortable with these ‘intruders’. I do not think he was happy with those with an air of colonial independence and much preferred the compliant attitude of the former 22 SAS NCOs.
He informed the contract officers that the Palace Office – the unit’s political guiding hand – no longer wanted non-UK passport holders in its ranks and that their contracts, when they expired, would not be renewed. I personally have my suspicions as to whether this edict had indeed come from the Palace Office. I took a certain amount of pleasure in reminding him that I was a UK passport holder. I don’t believe these colonial non-Omanis were ever given the credit they deserved for the great deal they had contributed to the development and modernisation of the SSF based upon their extensive operational experience in the Rhodesian Special Forces, Vietnam and elsewhere.
I designed our motto, ‘Swift and Deadly’, as well as the D Squadron badge and the individually numbered special metallic badge awarded to SSF soldiers who had completed the D Squadron Counterterrorism (CT) course and continued to serve in the Squadron. This training involved Close Quarter Battle shooting; explosive demolition entry into buildings; assaulting buildings, aircraft and vehicles – and later maritime vessels; building abseiling skills; and fast-roping from helicopters. The motto and badges were soon approved by the Palace Office and Sultan Qaboos himself. I was very fortunate to have Captain Tony B as my second-in-command of D Squadron. Tony B had served in Oman with the SAS during the Dhofar War and was a very good Arabist. I had studied the language before joining SSF, and managed to get by, but never mastered writing it.
Under our command, D (Cobra) Squadron eventually became a very efficient counterterrorism organisation thanks to a huge amount of hard graft and relentless training. We became skilled in carrying out training in aircraft assaults, vehicle assaults and building assaults and we even progressed to maritime counterterrorism. We frequently travelled to Bahrain to train on Gulf Air aircraft and would spend several weeks in each year carrying out assaults on the various aircraft in their stable.
But training the counterterrorism team to always be ready to deploy into any situation was not without its hazards. For obvious reasons training had to be realistic and we spent a lot of time honing our close-quarters shooting and entry techniques. Explosives were used to gain entry to various buildings and structures. Unfortunately, during one training session, a squadron member got his timings wrong when he was attempting to gain entry into our ‘bespoke’ training facility and blew several fingers off his left hand. He was immediately given first aid and rushed off to the main hospital in Salalah. Keith F was observing this training session and decided to gather the somewhat shocked troops around him in the training room and give them a pep talk. His instincts were good; it was important, despite the awful accident, to stress the need for realistic training, and that in the event of an accident lessons needed to be learned to ensure it did not happen again. However, he could see that he was not getting through to the troops, who were looking more and more horrified with every passing second. As discreetly as possible I had to point out to him that, while giving his motivational speech, he was in fact standing on the injured man’s detached fingers, which were poking out from under his desert boots.
On another occasion, Tony B and I were experimenting with various methods to clear reinforced glass from a window so that stun grenades could be thrown in or so that the assault team could effect entry. The method used was to place a detonator in a small explosive primer which was then placed at the end of a bent metal picquet. The detonator was connected by wire to a claymore firing device, a ‘clacker’. I would creep up to the window, swing the pointed end of the piquet through the window, smashing the glass, and give the nod to Tony B behind me who would then detonate the explosive which would clear out the reinforced glass. Unfortunately, in this case the picquet bounced off the window and without getting the nod, Tony decided to blow the charge. KFB! I am still able to describe in detail all the colours of that explosion directly in front of me. It was some days before I recovered from the blast.
In 1987, I took a number of D Squadron officers and senior NCOs to visit the German counterterrorism team, GSG 9, based in Bonn. We spent a week or so training with them and comparing techniques. We carried out ‘fast-roping’ or ‘swarming’ from helicopters with them and we also learned the techniques for climbing tall apartment buildings on the outside using ladders to climb up from balcony to balcony – that was more than a little scary. GSG 9 had carried out a successful aircraft assault in Mogadishu in 1977. They are very professional and were extremely hospitable. During the training we wore coveralls and World War II German parachute helmets – I wish I had kept one. At the end of our visit I was able to spend some time with the GSG 9 Commander Uwe Dee and I was privileged to receive an engraved GSG 9 Glock presentation dagger at the end of our visit. This now proudly hangs on my wall.
Following the visit to GSG 9 I was able to take my team to visit the counterterrorism team of 22 SAS in Hereford. We were hosted by B Squadron and carried out combined training and shooting with them. I was really pleased to be able to meet up with my former comrades again, especially Sailor, and several of them assisted us with the training. Interestingly, the training facilities in Hereford were no better than those of the SSF in Oman, but, of course, this was a UK Defence funding issue.
At the end of our visit we took the opportunity to visit Tony Fleming at his home in Hereford where he had returned after leaving the SSF some months earlier. He was a highly respected man amongst the SSF and it was a great pleasure to see him.
The training in maritime counterterrorism was carried out in the waters around Hong Kong and taught by the ‘ninjas’ of the Royal Hong Kong police maritime Special Duties Unit (SDU). Dhofaris are not particularly happy swimming in the sea, but by grim determination they soon learned the skills and techniques for assaulting ships at anchor, ships alongside and ships under way. One exercise in which we participated was against a cargo vessel out at sea and it took place shortly after a typhoon had swept the area. I have very clear memories of one of my Omani squad members using a jumar climbing system to scale a rope which, with a grapnel attached, had been fired onto the vessel from our following assault RIBs (rigid inflatable boats) by a compressed air Plummet gun. As he clung onto the rope hanging from the side of this giant ship a huge swell lifted the vessel, and its enormous, slowly turning propellers, some 12 feet out of the water and then another 12 feet down again, plunging the Omani deep into the water. He courageously continued his climb and threw down the caving ladder he had carried so the rest of us could climb up. I wanted to be the next onto the ship so my RIB closed up to the caving ladder which was, at its lowest point, some 4 feet in the air. I was held at the bow of our boat as it was thrown about and waited for an opportunity to jump and grasp the flailing ladder when it was closest to the sea. As I was being flung about I became aware of a pathetic sort of whimpering noise – I suddenly realised it was coming from me! Eventually I was able to jump and grasp the lowest rung and drag myself up onto the next rungs of the ladder. That was a long, exciting climb!
After the rest of the team had also scaled the ladder and the bridge had been secured we departed the vessel by jumping off the stern back into the giant sea. One minute I would be deep inside a huge hollow in the sea and the next moment I was perched on the top of a mountainous wave. We were relying on our wetsuits to keep us afloat until, eventually, we would each be found by the RIBs. I was incredibly proud of how we conquered our fears that day – myself included!
Operational Duties and Life in Oman
While those of us in D Squadron trained for counterterrorism operations, the desert Sabre squadrons trained for conventional warfare. But D Squadron was also responsible for carrying out discreet operations on behalf of the Oman Security Services (SIS). On one occasion I was contacted by SIS to say they had information that there was an arms cache located in the desert south or west of SOAF Thumrait airbase. Keith F was away on annual Christmas leave at the time, so I was in command of the regiment. A lot of operational incidents happened when he was away on leave and that pissed him off no end.
This was codenamed Operation Thalib. We analysed the information we were given, managed to locate where we believed the cache was most likely located and inserted a long-term OP. This was put in by the specialist 17 Troop of D Squadron and the operation was commanded on the ground by a very professional former SAS NCO, Jimmy S. During the operation the patrol had to cope with numerous camel spiders around their OP. The camel spider is a large carnivorous spider which injects a nerve-numbing liquid into its prey and then starts to devour the still-living flesh – frequently the faces of sleeping humans.
I coordinated all the aspects of the operation including the preparation of a quick reaction force (QRF) from the rest of D Squadron located back at the main base in Zeak. The whole operation had to be kept from the rest of the regiment, but members of the unit were used to 17 Troop disappearing on special tasks.
After a number of days with the 17 Troop operatives on the ground, it became obvious that the information was somewhat dated and that there were unlikely to be any potential terrorists coming to reclaim the cache. We then lifted the cache, which was contained in barrels in a cave complex, and took it back to the SSF base at Zeak. The equipment in the cache was extraordinary – there was a complete set of equipment with which to start a revolution! There were documents, leaflets, pamphlets, instruction books, explosives, weapons, mines, grenades, RPG-7s and silenced pistols. It was a veritable Aladdin’s cave for sedition. The equipment had Soviet lettering, but the written matter was all in Arabic. The SIS ‘spooks’ were delighted with this find. We, of course, were disappointed that we were unable to ambush anybody coming to recover these items from the hide. I personally believe the hide had been there for some time and was left over from the Dhofar War. Regardless of its age, however, individuals could have created mayhem and murder with what was in that cache.
On his return from leave Keith F maximised the ‘PR’ aspects of ‘his’ operation and all the Omanis involved were given prestigious gallantry medals. Interestingly, but not surprisingly, the non-Omanis involved, myself and Jimmy S, were never mentioned at all.
But this is not to say that I didn’t recognise the huge improvements the Jebali troops had made and I greatly enjoyed working with them; I found them keen to learn, and quick to acquire new skills. Like most mountain people they could take offence easily and tribal vendettas, especially blood vendettas, could continue generation after generation. They have an expression about their loyalties, ‘Me against my brother; my brother and me against the tribe; the tribe against the world!’ In a similar vein, I have heard other Omanis say about the Jebali, ‘If you find a snake and a Jebali in your bed – throw out the Jebali first!’ But I found them to be passionately loyal and courageous with a sense of humour.
They enjoy eating and talking and this is manifested in their hafla. This is a social get-together where a goat or several goats are roasted in a wood fire and a feast is enjoyed with animated conversations with everyone sitting on a mat around great mounds of meat and rice. I have fond memories of many such desert evenings.
Unlike the people, the climate and topography could take some time to get used to with the coastal fringe of Dhofar and Salalah affected by the winds of the south-west monsoon, known as the Khareef, between June and September. These surface winds encourage an upwelling of colder waters in the Indian Ocean which cool the overlying moisture-laden air. As this air is lifted over the jebel, the moisture condenses as thick, wet fogs over the hills.
During the Khareef, vision on the jebel is down to a few feet. Driving the steep, winding road from the jebel to Salalah and back became extremely hazardous. Each year there would be a number of fatalities as heavily-laden goods lorries travelling the 620 miles from Muscat would enter this wet, misty fog and lose control of their vehicles. The roads would be very slippery with a combination of spilled oil, diesel and water. In the SSF camp the rain-soaked buildings would become dark with mould and the camp would be swallowed up in the permanent white mist and fog. It was a surreal existence. However, only some 10 miles further north, where the jebel met the desert, the fog and rain would simply disappear and you would drive, as though through a curtain, into bright, blinding desert sunshine!
This rain and mist supports an annual regrowth of grass and trees over the following summer season. The Khareef brings nature to the barren hilltops and the brown hills start exploding into an emerald green carpet. Mile after mile of red barren-looking rocks and steep wadis become covered in new growth of grasses, bushes and trees.
During the later part of the Khareef, I would witness scores of storks assembling at a small lake near to the camp. They would noisily feed and prepare themselves for their long migrations from Europe to Africa. As the temperatures increased they would catch thermals and start spiralling up into the sky in ones and twos and then in larger groups and then finally the main body, with much squawking, would spiral their way high into the sky until they disappeared from view. One or two did not depart and would continue to stand beside the lake looking disconsolately skyward – they would fall prey to the various foxes and other predators that patrolled the desert.
The end of the Khareef would be a relief, even though the new growth was extraordinary to see – it was a claustrophobic time for everyone. It was possible to go a bit stir-crazy!
We were very lucky during my time in the SSF with two excellent British Regimental Medical Officers (RMO). The first one I served with was Tom Pollak who had a fascinating background. He was a fully qualified GP and had joined 10 Para, the reserve battalion of the Parachute Regiment, as a paratrooper. Tom was duly commissioned and soon became a major and company commander. He decided to attempt 22 SAS selection and passed with flying colours. But, because Tom was originally of Eastern European extraction he was not able to be security cleared. He offered to be the RMO for 22 SAS instead, but the same restrictions applied. Tom then joined the regular Parachute Regiment as a paratrooper and not surprisingly soon received a commission and joined me in 1 Para as my excellent second-in-command. Tom excelled at being a Parachute Regiment officer and as a doctor. So, I knew we were in safe hands when Tom was appointed as the SSF RMO.
But there was one incident when Tom’s hands were not as safe as perhaps he would have liked them to be. The regiment was asked to go into some local villages in the area and shoot the feral dogs that were becoming dangerous. Tom was with a group from the SSF and, as a dog raced from behind a building, he opened fire with his shotgun. Unfortunately, a Pakistani administrative employee of the regiment had decided to follow a similar path to the dog and was hit in his rear end by some of Tom’s pellets. The injured man let out a blood-curdling shriek and fell to the dirt. Mortified, Tom ran over to him, holding his smoking shotgun, and uttered the immortal words, ‘Don’t worry – I’m a doctor!’
Following Tom’s return to the British Army, Ian P was appointed as our RMO, who had been the RMO at 22 SAS prior to joining the SSF. Ian was as competent as Tom but more of a cerebral individual. However, he was also always more than willing to make his views firmly known about medical matters even if they might conflict with those of Keith F. His outspoken manner did not appeal to everyone and as he had been the 22 SAS RMO it was difficult for anyone in the SSF, British or Omani, to pull the wool over his eyes. Ian eventually re-joined the British Army after leaving the SSF and became one of the most respected military psychiatrists in the army. He and I got on very well and I have remained very good friends with both him and Tom Pollak.
I would be sad to leave these new-found friends – British, Rhodesian, Jebali – but my three-year contract was up, and I had decided not to renew. I had enjoyed this adventure in Oman, the land of Sinbad the Sailor, but it was time for an entirely new chapter of my life to begin.