Brigadier Calvert to Mayne: Any possibility of your going to see the German Command under flag of truce to arrange surrender? Mayne to Calvert: Is a flag really necessary?
SAS Signals Log, Operation Howard, 2 May 1945
In September 1944, discussions first began on a role for SAS troops in Norway; some thought was given to areas that were suitable for mountain-warfare training; the options canvassed were the Alps, Canada, Iceland and, the least spectacular, the Army’s mountain training centre at Banchory in Aberdeenshire. It was here in October that 1 SAS moved – with the exception of the detached C Squadron. However, plans for the use of the two British regiments in Norway were vague. From the military point of view, in the autumn of 1944 there was no intention of sending parties of SAS to harass enemy movement out of the country, as had been the case in France. Nor was there political pressure: indeed the Norwegian authorities objected to SAS operations against the enemy south of Trondheim in case these brought out the Norwegian underground in force. While ideas were left to simmer for a few months, the unit’s base moved from Nettlebed to Hylands Hall, near Chelmsford.
On 1 November, Maj Bob Melot died in a Jeep accident. He was driving to visit his mother in Brussels, the city where he had been born forty-nine years earlier.1 He was a remarkable individual: a pilot in the Belgian Air Force during the First World War, he had been wounded, then decorated with Croix de Guerre and Croix de Feu; twenty-two years later, by then in business in Egypt, he enlisted again and fought in Syria, the Western Desert, Sicily, mainland Italy and France; he had been wounded twice and decorated with the MC. He was fluent in a number of languages, with a charming but fervent personality. He had had a stand-up row with Brig McLeod over the latter’s choice of bases for the French campaign, telling him that there would have been as much efficacy in his strategy if he had ‘thrown shit at the map’.2 Mayne had a high regard for him and had the kind of relationship with him that allowed Melot to write to him as ‘Dear Paddy’. The previous November, Melot had flown to Cairo, then went to Alexandria – to see his wife, who had had a baby – at the time decisions about the future of the unit were being made. Melot had heard about the development when he was in Cairo, made further enquiries, then wrote a letter to Mayne which included the sentence, ‘I am most worried – no question for you to try and go to any operation without me!’3
It was in late 1944, three years after Operation No. 1, the attempt carried out by L Detachment on the Gazala and Timimi airfields, that Mayne learned how it was that his friend Eoin McGonigal had died. Two of McGonigal’s section on that raid, Tprs Blakeney and Davies, had been captured and held in a POW camp in Italy, but escaped after the Italian armistice and succeeded in reaching Switzerland. In October 1944 they were repatriated, and in due course returned to 1 SAS. Mike Blackman included in his compilation of the chronicle of the unit the statements made by Blakeney and Davies:
Statement by 2660354 Trooper Blakeney
The above-mentioned soldier proceeded on operation in the Western Desert on 16 November 1941 and was dropped in a gale. After landing he lay up until dawn and found himself alone with other members of his party, including Lt McGonigal, who was badly injured and died later. Other members of the party were as stated in the following report by Trooper Davies.
This party, which endeavoured to make for LRDG rendezvous, got lost and made their way to the coast, and were picked up by an Italian guard at Timimi airport as per report of Trooper Davies prior to arriving on the Italian mainland.4
Davies’s report used much the same terminology but included the personnel of the section, one of whom, Hildreth, had later died. So McGonigal’s section, too, on that ill-fated first raid, had not been able to reach their target; and McGonigal had died from injuries sustained on landing.
The final stages of the war provide a lot of insight into Mayne, both in his stewardship of the regiment and in respect of what manner of man he was. His pride in the unit revealed much about himself. He insisted on a high standard of turnout and smartness from the time he took command in 1943 – it was one of the characteristics that appealed to Gen Dempsey – and he maintained that level throughout the Sicilian and Italian campaigns; its high point had been an immaculate parade at Catania in Sicily. Now in October and November 1944, C Squadron had a high profile in Brussels, where it came under 21st Army Group, having been assigned to counter-intelligence work in Germany to hunt down Gestapo agents, suspected war criminals or groups of SS who might refuse to surrender. Mayne was confident that Tony Marsh would continue the tradition: on 9 October he signalled Marsh, hoping he was ‘outdoing Catania turnout’,5 and on 13 November he wrote to him. Mayne’s letter is a revelation:
Dear Tony
I am sorry I wasn’t able to get over to see you last week but I was extremely busy. Your kit was held up by B.56 and 58 being out of action. The notes I left behind included yours, Lepine’s and Barnby’s expense sheets. Could you rewrite them and send them over. Also I would like yours and Ted’s operational reports.
I had a letter from the Brigadier yesterday in which he said that he had heard from Esmond that all your chaps had made an extremely good impression on the authorities in Brussels. The Town Major apparently said that you had been there six weeks and that he had not received the slightest complaint or heard any derogatory remarks against any of you. Damned good work. Ted [Badger] and yourself deserve many congratulations.
If you can now get them to wear their berets properly you will have achieved everything.
The chaps have done well. I hope some blasted fool doesn’t go away and do anything stupid and ruin everything.
I am going to Scotland tomorrow to see Harry [Poat] and Bill [Fraser]; I don’t think they are enjoying themselves much. Today I am seeing Collins about the Canadian business; if it comes off it will apply to you also.
I imagine that I should be able to come and give you all the griff in about ten days’ time. I hope to stay a little longer then. Mike Sadler will probably come with me.
We have moved camp again, to Chelmsford, not too bad, close to London which will suit the small dark man. Too many blasted flying bombs. It was good that you did not have any casualties in your near miss.
All the best and I hope to see you shortly. Give my best wishes to everyone.6
Two weeks later, he and Sadler arrived by Dakota at Brussels and they were driven to the Belgian barracks.7
Mayne’s exhortation about wearing the beret properly alludes, of course, to his insistence that it had to be worn straight across the forehead; anyone whom he caught sporting his beret at a rakish angle was in trouble. But his expression, ‘you will have achieved everything’, shows there was a tight policy in the unit about discipline and dress which was understood and operated by his officers. However, the most remarkable statement is his concern lest someone’s irresponsible behaviour off duty ‘ruin everything’. Now this sits oddly with tales that have circulated in later years about Mayne’s behaviour off duty. Few verifiable instances of these can be found. The most authentically detailed was the escapade (referred to in chapter 3) when, in No. 11 Commando in Cyprus, he manhandled a nightclub owner, putting the fear of God into him by firing his Colt around the man’s feet because he had overcharged and insulted him. So perhaps, it could be argued, here Mayne was being hypocritical: applying one standard to the unit and another to himself. But that does not fit, because he was intellectually honest. Perhaps, in progressing from lieutenant to lieutenant-colonel, he had become converted: a born-again rebel. But it is not that either.
Mayne radiated a forcefulness that not everyone was comfortable with. Pleydell, the unit’s first medical officer, described it in terms of kinetic energy. ‘Somehow, I thought, even when he was resting, Paddy managed to give the impression of massive latent force and power.’8 By late 1944, Sadler had worked with Mayne for three years and knew him quite well.
He was very good at containing himself most of the time, but I always felt that he was a bit of a volcano; and people were frightened of him because they felt that, I imagine, too; a lot of people were quite frightened of him. The trouble was that he had this reputation and everyone exaggerated that and played upon it.9
Sadler never saw that latent power erupting in Mayne, but he sensed its presence in, what he called, ‘playful violence’. He and Mayne had been at cabaret club in London a few times and one night Mayne said to him, ‘Why don’t we both just break off a table leg and go around and see how many people we can get.’ Sadler added, ‘I think he was joking.’ On another occasion, Mayne and he were drinking in a bar off Berkeley Square when Mayne ‘pulled the barman across the counter by his tie – because he took exception to something he’d said – until the fellow’s tie broke. . . . But he wasn’t really violent; he had a need to let off his spirits in that physical way.’10 So Mayne had not really changed from the time, in the Commando, when it had seemed to Tommy Macpherson that ‘Blair was very reliable – he was merely eccentric’11 and so his concern that no one by his behaviour should bring the unit into disrepute was not at odds with having his own peccadilloes. But peccadilloes they were, not basic flaws; Mayne’s self-control was very strong, as Roy Close observed:
Paddy would sometimes, during an inactive period (never during operations), have a bit of a binge. But, at the end of it, he would order a regimental parade. Everybody knew that he would take this regimental parade perfectly. We all had to be properly dressed. He was, and he inspected us to ensure that we were, too. Again, I think, we appreciated what it was all about. He was showing us that, though he had relaxed for a bit, he was in control and quite disciplined.12
However, Mayne’s idea of a completely professional approach to the work of the unit went beyond physical fitness, discipline, dedication and high standards of behaviour off duty: it spilled over into the private and interpersonal lives of himself and his men. He felt, for example, that it was incompatible to have professional commitment to the unit and form serious relationships with women. Of course, there were men in the unit who were married and who therefore had stable relationships. Even these relationships could be tested. In his personal file, Mayne had a letter from the distraught wife of one of his experienced men, the import of which may be that he had made another liaison, or that the strain of combat made him lose all perspective on a settled future after the war; for he had written to her, giving her the house and advising her to go her own way without him.13 As commanding officer of the regiment, that was not the only letter Mayne received from an anxious wife. Then earlier, during his Commando training in Arran, there had been the case of a subaltern who got engaged. He brought his fiancée over to the island for a weekend, in the course of which she jilted him and he shot himself immediately afterwards.14 While the unit had been overseas this sensitive area had been less of an issue; now that they were back in the UK in 1944, Mayne’s attitude generated tension in himself – because he was attracted to women. So a complex pattern emerges. He was keen to go to the maison de rendez-vous in Paris – it was not a crude bordello – and take girls out, but he was not accepting of uncommitted sex. He strongly disapproved of lewd conversation (although bawdy songs to some degree were permitted in the mess); there should be commitment in a relationship with a woman, but in the short term, that was incompatible with their work. It is well illustrated.
Anne Hetherington was an attractive young driver in the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry (FANY); her duties included driving SOE agents to the airfield from where they were due to leave to parachute into occupied Europe. In the course of her work she got to know both Mike Sadler and Mayne; and soon she became Mike’s girlfriend. One afternoon, Mayne, Sadler and Anne were in the Brevet Club in London when a row developed between Mayne and Anne – it was a stormy session that ended with Mike and Anne going their way and Mayne his. London in wartime was a surprisingly small place for off-duty members of the same unit, and that evening Mike and Anne went to a cabaret club; later, Mayne came in and, to their embarrassment, ‘he was escorted to our table, because that was the only place where there was a seat left.’ However, the evening did not turn out to be a disaster. Reflecting on the row, Sadler said:
Paddy liked her very much; he had good regard for her. I think he might have suffered from jealousy as well because she was not attached to him in any way, but she was somewhat attached to me. They had one or two rows – I don’t know why – because she liked him and he liked her.15
Fifty-seven years after the event – when Sadler discussed it with her – Anne could not recall the incident at the Brevet Club, but she said that after the war Mayne had met her on several occasions. So Sadler concluded, ‘It may have been jealousy that caused the row in the Brevet Club those years before.’16 Sadler then told Anne of a time in Chelmsford when Mayne objected to having women in the mess: ‘We had this party in the mess; it was going well; he had been drinking and then in the middle of the night he ordered the women out.’17 And this did remind Anne that Mayne had told her that, in his view, members of the unit should not be committed; Sadler, too, recalled discussing this topic with Mayne.
But in January 1945, Mayne and his officers began to anticipate a role for the unit in the Far East. It was assumed that no matter what capacity they were used in in Norway, the war in Europe would finish quite soon, but that the conflict with Japan would continue for some time. Mayne endeavoured to meet Bernard Ferguson, who had been with Wingate and the Chindits and whose book Across the Chindwin was about to be published. Lt Col Ian Collins, who was at Headquarters 1st Airborne Division, and whom Mayne had worked with during the Commando Brigade days, was a member of the family who owned Collins, the publisher. On 9 February, Ian Collins wrote to Mayne that he was sending him an advance copy of Ferguson’s book, which he thought Mayne would find interesting, and wondered if the two had met yet. But then Collins’ letter went on to show the extent of research that they were undertaking. He believed that Hodder and Stoughton had published a very good book on the Gobi Desert; it was out of print, but he was trying to get some copies. Then his own company had published two books on China, Through China’s Wall, by Graham Peck, and Dawn Watch in China, by Joy Horner. Both were out of print but he hoped to get a file copy of each; since they were file copies, he wanted them back. Finally, he hoped to receive an official signal from Supreme Allied Command South-east Asia that weekend.18 Sadler recalled those early ideas about operating in the Gobi Desert.
North-west Europe 1945
We were doing some preliminary thinking about how we would get Jeeps over there and whether aircraft range was sufficient to drop Jeeps, and what maps were available. We had been trained to operate in the desert – we were familiar with the desert. We gave thought to the height of the mountains, whether Stirlings would get that high, whether you needed oxygen and so on. But it was very skeletal.19
A month later their efforts to learn more about the possibilities for SAS work in the theatre were given a sharper focus following a change of personnel at Brigade. Brig McLeod was posted to India and replaced by Brig J.M. (Mad Mike) Calvert, who had served with the Chindits under Wingate. Over the next few months, Calvert – as is clear from his correspondence – reinforced their expectation that the unit was to be used in the Far East after the war in Europe ended.
With the prospect of a long-drawn-out conflict in the Far East, Anglo-American cooperation was very close. What Churchill referred to in the early days of the war as the might of the New World implied both the military capacity of the United States and the resources it had to sustain that capability. One method of funding the American war effort was through the sale of war bonds, which were bought by citizens and institutions across the country. Movie stars and sports figures were joined by servicemen with distinguished records, including some from America’s allies: Guy Gibson, who led the Dam Buster squadron, attended bond-raising functions as part of his propaganda tour of the USA. The SAS was invited to send four representatives, two from each regiment. Mayne selected Mike Sadler and Sgt Maj Rose. It was an unexpected and stimulating posting for them: they went to Washington, visited banking houses, gave talks at shipyards, did radio broadcasts and made bond appeals. ‘Needless to say, we lived well; we were met at the station with chaps handing out bottles of whisky. And there was entertainment galore.’20
Mayne and Pleydell had kept in touch since 1943. On 12 February 1945, Pleydell wrote to Mayne, bringing him up to date and asking about members of the unit he knew from the desert days.21 It was in 1945 that Pleydell’s book Born of the Desert was first published. He had kept his notes of his time with the unit and was already giving them some structure. And in the closely interrelated network that had formed over the years, it is not surprising that the publisher was the house of Collins.
Meanwhile, in the spring, interest was rekindled in the idea of SAS troops operating in Norway; 1 SAS would commit about 380 all ranks, and 2 SAS around a similar number. The plan for policing work was much less attractive to the unit than pre-surrender operations, some of which were considered. Planning was completed for Operation Ibrox, in which a group of ten from 2 SAS were to infiltrate by parachute and destroy the Trolledal railway viaduct during the moon period at the end of March, and exfiltrate through Sweden. The group trained and were ready; they stood by at Tain airfield until 4 April, when the operation was postponed, and on 9 April SHAEF cancelled it.22
Mayne’s preference at this time was to keep the regiment active in Jeep operations during the final push into Germany, and Brian Franks took the same view. Franks’ regiment was without Farran’s squadron, which was operating in Italy, so he and Mayne agreed a temporary reallocation of forces which meant that both units could have a presence in Germany. From 1 SAS, A and D Squadrons under the command of Maj Harry Poat, with Majs Bill Fraser, John Tonkin (recently promoted) and Alex Muirhead, went with Franks, while Mayne took B and C Squadrons to serve under II Canadian Corps of 21st Army Group for Operation Howard.
On 6 April, Mayne and his force left Tilbury; he met Calvert at Canadian Headquarters and on 9 April he received his orders from Maj Gen Vokes, General Commanding Officer of 4th Canadian Armoured Division. Vokes’s orders were to pass through the leading Canadian troops when they had established a crossing over the River Ems at Meppen and to ‘penetrate quickly and deeply into the enemy rear areas in the direction of Oldenburg’.23 It was intended that the unit would clear the way for the armour and cause alarm and disorganisation behind enemy lines. Mayne was not tied down to routes and ‘he accepted the task with enthusiasm and alacrity’.24 The speed of advance of the armoured division varied considerably from day to day, depending on the determination of enemy resistance; so, after the briefing, that was the last Gen Vokes heard of Mayne for over forty-eight hours.
For the first time the unit was on German soil and travelled openly in daylight. Radio communications had improved to the extent that the squadrons could speak to one another; but there could also be difficulties in resupplying them if they got too far ahead of the Canadian armoured division. An additional headache was that the terrain, criss-crossed with canals, was not suitable for Jeeps; and there was a great deal of exposure and lack of knowledge about the disposition and strength of the enemy. It was not long before this level of exposure brought them to a point where they were involved in severe fighting. For his actions in one of the engagements, Mayne was recommended for the Victoria Cross.25
The two squadrons were travelling slightly apart; B Squadron, under Maj Bond, was in the lead. A short distance along their line of advance from a crossroads, a collection of three farm buildings lay on their right, with a wooded area behind. The point section of four Jeeps suddenly came under heavy automatic and Panzerfaust fire from two of the buildings closest to the crossroads and from the copse of trees. Those who were able abandoned their Jeeps and crawled to the ditch on the left-hand side of the road, where they were pinned down. Under covering fire from the remaining Jeeps, drawn up at the road junction, two of the forward section managed to crawl back and reported that Maj Bond was dead.
A radio message was sent to Mayne; he arrived in about ten minutes and quickly took in the situation: the enemy positions were strongly held; the nature of the ground meant that he could not outflank the copse to the right, nor could he flank another building and some trees on the left-hand side of the road to get to his forward section. First he went forward alone to the nearest of the group of buildings to ensure that none of the enemy remained in it; then he came back for a Bren gun and magazines, and returned to the corner of the house he had searched, stepped into the open and, from the shoulder, started firing bursts from the Bren into the second of the defended farm buildings. He sustained this attack until he had killed or wounded all in the building, then he called forward a Jeep to take up his fire position. The point section, however, was still pinned down by fire from the copse, so Mayne went to his Jeep and called for a volunteer to man the rear guns. Lt Scott, who had been commissioned the previous September, volunteered. Mayne drove the Jeep along the road directly in front of the defended wooded area. In Scott’s words, ‘He drove up the road past the position where the Squadron Commander had been killed a few minutes previously, giving me cool precise fire orders.’26 Mayne continued driving to where the leading section was pinned down, and beyond that point, with Scott raking the enemy positions the length of the entire run. Throughout, they had been in full view of the enemy. But Mayne then turned the Jeep around and drove back down the road, engaging the enemy until they reached cover. However, the enemy, although sustaining heavy casualties from the Jeep’s Vickers K guns, still maintained an accurate fire on the road, preventing the forward section from being extricated. Mayne turned the Jeep yet again and made a third run, driving under fire, and reached the Jeeps of the leading section. ‘He jumped out of the Jeep giving me orders to continue firing, lifted the wounded out of the ditch, placed them in the Jeep and drove back to the main party.’27 But the sustained firepower of Scott’s guns and the audacity of the action in front of them had had a demoralising effect on the enemy, and they withdrew from their position. Scott’s own actions had been most meritorious, but he nobly summed up his part in terms of being inspired. ‘Throughout the entire action Col Mayne showed a personal courage that it has never before been my privilege to witness.’28
Further heavy fighting was encountered. At one time, the force had 350 prisoners. According to Gen Vokes, they disarmed them all, retained about a hundred of the toughest type, mainly parachute troops, and ‘chased the others back in the general direction of our advance’. But, being at the tip of a long spear, they were vulnerable to encirclement. When this happened, Roy Close remembers Mayne’s speed at absorbing information, assessing the extent of the threat and taking swift and appropriate action.
When we got surrounded in the pine forest, we made a perimeter and put the prisoners in the middle. They claimed they were in danger and weren’t being treated according to the Geneva Convention. Anyway Paddy told them to shut up. The enemy, a German para regiment, I believe, were all around and we were probing to find a way out. We sent out small patrols at different times to look for a way. One particular patrol comprising three or four men went out, but I believe it came back to a different point in our perimeter. Those who were there did not recognise the password, and the patrol suffered what is now known as friendly fire. We all know it happens in war. Two of the chaps got wounded, one very badly. We thought that if he was going to live, he would need more medical attention than we could give. So Paddy sent him out under a white flag together with an officer, Capt Edwards, and sent two prisoners with them to confirm that we held a lot more. He told Edwards to make sure that they did not give our position away.
When they returned, my section had just come back from a patrol and I was near to where Paddy was sitting under a tree. I had told my section to brew up. Edwards went straight to Paddy and told him that he thought one of the prisoners had indicated our position on a map. Paddy said without hesitation, ‘Get everybody on their Jeeps and take as many prisoners as we can and follow me.’ We who were trying to brew up grumbled, having just got back, but quickly got organised. My section, being placed where it was, were last to leave. We hadn’t gone a hundred yards deeper into the woods when the mortar and artillery fire came down on the place where we had been. To my mind, if Paddy had paused a minute longer to think about what Capt Edwards had told him, we would not have got clear.29
The advance elements of the Canadian division caught up with Mayne’s force – who were now running low on ammunition and were out of food – in the area of Esterwegen–Lorup, about thirty miles from Meppen.
On 12 April, Mayne reported the results of the fighting so far. They had lost six Jeeps and several others were badly riddled. Bond and Cooper had been killed, Grierson was wounded – so was Iredale, but he was in a German hospital – while eleven others were missing, believed captured. He added that of the 350 prisoners, they had brought with them about 100 paratroopers. They had destroyed much equipment and had also captured the company’s payroll. He summed up their situation by stating that the country was extremely difficult to work in because of bogs, so they were forced to use main roads. ‘What arrangements are you making to resupply us with specialised stores? We cannot ferry it up for ourselves.’30
Brig Calvert recommended that Mayne should be awarded the VC for his actions in rescuing his men. He submitted signed statements from three officers who witnessed the action: Lt Scott, who manned the rear guns on the Jeep, Lt Locket and Lt Surrey-Dane. In his covering statement to Lt Gen Simonds, General Officer Commanding II Canadian Corps, Calvert refers to the difficulty of assessing the military significance of Mayne’s actions in relation to the overall thrust of the Canadian division.
I enclose a citation for the VC for Paddy Mayne.
I have gone into this thoroughly with his officers and I think it was an outstanding piece of work. One almost expects these things from Paddy. The main point is, however, as to how much it affected the battle. I am not really in a position to say, although I have attempted to do so in the citation. I do not know whether you will agree with me.31
Simonds agreed with him; for Maj Gen Vokes, who had commanded 4th Canadian Armoured Division, also wrote in support of the citation. In his opinion Mayne’s spirited leadership and dash were a most important contribution to the success of the operation. He continued:
I cannot produce any Canadian eyewitnesses to his personal acts of bravery as his force was operating entirely on its own. When visiting his unit, however, I observed the very marked respect and regard in which he was held by his officers and men.
In my opinion this officer is worthy of the highest award for gallantry and leadership.32
The citation for the VC was signed by Brig Calvert, Maj Gen Vokes, Lt Gen Simonds, Gen Crerar, Commander 1st Canadian Army and Field Marshal Montgomery, 21st Army Group. At the level at which decisions on awards were made, ‘VC’ was crossed through and ‘3 Bar DSO’ written beneath.33 The criteria that were applied by those responsible for the final decision are not available for scrutiny. But if overall contribution to the outcome of the battle and independent witnesses are two of the criteria, it is difficult to see that any SAS operation would ever result in the award of the Victoria Cross.
Now, in their interpretation of the action, Bradford and Dillon took the line that since Lt Scott’s name did not appear on the citation, he had been pressured by senior officers. Whether this was so or not is irrelevant. The citation for an award is the finished gloss for public consumption on actions that are often chaotic or confusing when seen from different viewpoints. And Bradford and Dillon seem to have contented themselves by interviewing former officers simply in relation to the wording of the citation; they did not avail themselves of the official records. These show a citation, covering letters from Brig Calvert and Gen Vokes, three accompanying statements signed by Lts Scott, Locket and Surrey-Dane – each with a slightly different perspective on the action, for in Scott’s case he was participating with Mayne – and a sketch map of the location. So the final decision by the assessing officers on the nature of the award was made on the basis of the complete submission, which included, of course, the two caveats that Calvert and Vokes expressed.
In this sort of fighting, arrangements for resupply were crucial. So was the capability of the mechanised support team. McEwan was the REME (Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers) specialist officer with 1 SAS, and by now he was experienced in coping with their needs. But he seemed to have bent the rules and taken two REME personnel who were dedicated to other duties, before Brigade found out. A fizzing message came from Brigade that McEwan had shanghaied them, ‘against direct, direct orders. Return both at once through TAC [Tactical] HQ’.34 Mayne was too experienced a manager to accede swiftly to that order, and he began to deflect the force of Brigade’s stance by replying that the men had volunteered to join SAS and that he was putting them on fourteen days approbation before deciding whether to keep them or have them posted. Back came Maj Baring at Brigade, signalling that these men were not available to volunteer, they were only lent to the unit to prepare the Jeeps, and concluded, ‘High-powered rockets already plentiful. They must return earliest.’ Within six hours, Mayne sent a bland retort to the effect that in terms of an ACI (Army Council Instruction), men ‘cannot be prevented from volunteering for and joining us’. Which brought the swift response, ‘not REME such as these’. However, Mayne stalled long enough to have the benefit of their skills until 1 May.
This does not mean, however, that he was so short-handed that he eased up on his own standards for the unit. He remained as firm on this as during the days of the Special Raiding Squadron when he had returned men to unit singly or in groups. On 16 April he signalled that he had reduced a man to the ranks and was returning him to his unit.
It was Anthony Kemp who first pointed to the lack of credibility of the swashbuckling accounts of this period which appear in Bradford and Dillon’s version of activities in north-west Germany.35 And he was correct: the record is quite categorical about who made the decisions and was in command throughout. Mayne did not adopt a constant roving role, as Bradford and Dillon claimed, nor was he anywhere near Belsen, on 14 April, when the concentration camp was liberated. He was not running a private war; and his chief concern was that his unit was not being used to best advantage.
As the campaign continued, the terrain, coupled with the enemy’s destruction of bridges, made progress slower and more dangerous. Roy Close described the situation at one stage of the route:
There was a certain element of stress being in the lead Jeep, so we took it in turns to take the lead. On this occasion I was in the lead; we came to a canal where the bridge had been destroyed. The question was had the enemy done it to delay us while they had moved on, or were they under cover on the other side waiting for us to try to get across. I stopped the Jeep some distance from the bank and crawled forward through the grass and searched the opposite bank through my binoculars. I was surveying the other side when I heard an Irish brogue: ‘And can you see anything over there, Roy?’ Then I looked to my side and saw a pair of boots and there was Paddy standing fully upright looking across at the other side. ‘I think you get a better view up here,’ he said.36
Losses of men and equipment had taken their toll, and, in the light of the terrain and the conditions, Mayne formed the troops into one squadron under Tony Marsh. He and Marsh were holding a small bridgehead in advance of the Canadian 4th Armoured Division, who were at Neuvrees, while engineers worked on building a bridge. But Mayne felt that because of canals, blown bridges and mines on tracks and roads there would be poor results and many casualties. He signalled to Poat, who was in command of the unit’s two squadrons, which were operating under Brian Franks to the east, and asked him to send the padre to them at the Canadian division; and he announced that he intended coming across to see Poat shortly, and concluded, ‘This country [is] absolutely bloody to work in. The battle is turning into a slogging match and ourselves into mine detectors.’37 Mayne intended to travel on 16 April, but he was delayed for a day before he went to see Poat, whose force was by now west of Betzendorf with the Inns of Court Regiment, working on the left flank of 11th Division. Mayne’s intentions were twofold: to try to get all squadrons of 1 SAS reunited; and to press for more appropriate work for their skills. Mike Blackman had informed Brigade that Mayne had gone to Poat and he asked that signals for him should be recoded and transmitted to Archway.
Meanwhile, the 4th Canadian Armoured Division was held up as the fighting became virtually static. They were unable to cross the canal and clear Garrel, and Gen Vokes recognised that he no longer had suitable employment for SAS troops. But II Canadian Corps was anxious to have as many SAS as possible, as they had a high opinion of them, and so Brig Calvert sounded out Mayne about placing the Belgian SAS Regiment under his command, while allowing them to retain their own identification. He indicated that the Belgian unit’s leader, Blondeel, was most agreeable. But by this time Mayne was with Poat, and Calvert’s message seems to have been partly corrupted in recoding and transmission, or it was interpreted by Mayne as meaning further fragmentation of his unit, for a note of irritation comes through in his response.
For many reasons I consider it most essential I have my own complete unit under my command. Not a happy arrangement as it is now. Not particularly desirous of having command of anyone else. Would never think of merging Belgians’ identity with our own. 38
Calvert then clarified, ‘I suggested Belgians should operate under your command to increase your command and effectiveness and to give them the benefit of your leadership.’39 At the same time, discussions started on reassigning Poat and his squadron back to Mayne, and Calvert confirmed that this would be effected when Hibbert relieved Poat.
On 20 April, Brigade sent a brief message that David Stirling had been reported released; and the next day they followed it up, reporting that Stirling was in ‘great heart and sends many messages and congratulations to all and hopes to come out and visit you soon’.40
II Canadian Corps lost no time in coming up with alternative employment for 1 SAS. On 24 April, Mike Blackman signalled to Mayne that it was proposed that they should now work with 2nd Canadian Armoured Division north-west from the lake by Bad Zwischenahn towards Esenz on the North Sea. However, operations would be unable to start for a few days and Blackman was concerned, because across their entire axis the country was strewn with bog marsh and canals. Mayne replied that he was arriving by plane the following day at about 1500 hr, and went on, ‘Do not take any decisions until I arrive.’ Within the regiment there was a belief that Mayne would not commit them to an operation in which he had little confidence. McLuskey referred to this:
One of the things I marked about him was his ability to sum it up – opportunities. On a number of occasions, he refused to do something with his men because he thought it wasn’t worth it or wouldn’t work. And his men knew that and they always felt that if they went on an operation and he had okayed it, it was all right.41
Mayne did not like the plans and enlisted Calvert’s support; and he signalled to Poat that he was unhappy with the proposed operation for Tony Marsh’s squadron, nor was he keen to have Poat involved in it.
On 27 April, while there was stalemate, Calvert sent a top-secret message to Mayne and Franks telling them that an operation was being talked about for Denmark; it would be on the scale of the Amherst operation and would precede the arrival of the Allied forces. According to Calvert, the conditions were favourable: resistance and local reception was well organised and the country was suitable for Jeeps and for concealment. Next day Mayne responded, ‘Although I have no information on which to base my views, Denmark would appear a suitable and useful task. If it is on, I would like as much time as possible to concentrate equipment and prepare.’42 However, the unit was, meantime, allocated to 2nd Canadian Armoured Division and was not going to be profitably used, argued Mayne. Calvert understood the situation and he was supportive, but he told Mayne that he, ‘must be firm’ in telling the Canadian brigade in time what was not possible. Calvert then sent a personal signal to General Commanding Canadian Forces stating that Mayne considered that because of the tightness of the front, the large number of canals and the extent of the enemy’s minelaying, the unit could not operate effectively without heavy casualties. But of course he had to comply.
Progress was slow, and Jeeps were a liability. Mayne formed the squadron into two infantry platoons, and on 29 April they advanced one mile, but had a man killed by a mine. Mayne referred to it briefly in a signal to Poat, who had not yet been relieved by Hibbert: ‘Tony’s squadron now plodding along through bog and rain on their feet. Nobody very happy.’ Calvert then sent a second signal to the Chief of Staff concerning the misuse of the unit, and on 2 May the Chief of Staff passed it down to the division. But the wider situation was changing rapidly; the surrender of Germany was imminent, and Mayne was ordered by Brigade to move to Belgium, and hence to the UK to prepare for their next role.
The picturesque version of their homecoming, which was first painted by Marrinan – and which has been dutifully repeated ever since – has the unit arriving by boat, laden with war loot, to find His Majesty’s Customs and Excise out in force to search the Jeeps; whereupon Mayne orders his men to drive off the ramps at speed, sending the customs men fleeing for their lives. In reality, however, Mayne was nowhere near the unit when they tied up at Tilbury dock; he had not come back by sea: he returned by air from Brussels at 1230 hr on 8 May; and the following day, Tony Marsh and the squadron sailed from Ostend for the UK.43
They had little time to prepare for Operation Doomsday, the policing role in Norway. According to the original briefing, it was envisaged that the SAS would have a comparatively short stay in Norway, for the war in the Far East was expected to continue for some time.44 On 14 May, the regiment began to arrive at Stavanger airport. Mayne set up his headquarters at the barracks in Kristiansand, where there were about 25,000 Germans; 1 SAS was responsible for Kristiansand and the area to the west of the River Torridal. The regiment’s duties included disarming the Germans and, through liaison with them, disclosure of hidden Gestapo, SS and other suspected war criminals. Patrols were sent out periodically to Mandal and Lista and Enejemoen. The unit was very warmly received by the Norwegians; and on 17 May, for the first time in five years, the Norwegians celebrated their National Day.
But the unit’s stay in Kristiansand was brief: on 26 May, both 1 and 2 SAS sailed for Bergen. It was here that the SAS encountered most difficulty in apprehending Gestapo and SS personnel, for this ‘was one of the orders which the Germans tried at first to circumvent, pleading every kind of excuse from absence to non-existence of the men and women in question’.45 However, these attempts – made with the knowledge and assistance of some high-ranking German officers – were disclosed and the SAS persevered; the ‘biggest catch was the head of the Gestapo, Dr Weimann’. There were also about 4,200 Russian prisoners of war, whom the Germans had impounded in Bergen. The British officers were impressed by their cheerfulness and cooperation; and on 20 June Brian Franks, 2 SAS, held a dinner in his mess for the Russian officers. Calvert opened an Allied Club for officers and another for other ranks.
Mayne and his officers anticipated that their role in Norway would be a short intermission before the regiment was sent to the Far East. On 13 June, Brig Calvert wrote to Gen Simonds of II Canadian Corps, under whose overall command Mayne and the two squadrons of 1 SAS had operated in north-west Germany.
We hope to be going to the Far East sometime, so this is a pleasant period in between.
. . . Some of your formations have had close associations with the SAS and if there are any officers and men who are keen to come out to the Far East with the SAS, and are allowed to do so, we shall give them a big welcome.46
It was at this time, too, that the unit’s chronicler, Mike Blackman, completed his compilation ‘Birth, Growth and Maturity of 1st SAS Regiment’. He wrote, ‘Although the German war has been won, there is still fighting in the Far East. Japan has yet to be conquered.’47 Then, as early as 4 July, Brig Calvert returned to the UK to deal with other SAS responsibilities and ‘to make the necessary preparations for the withdrawal and concentration of SAS troops prior to their departure for the Far East’.48
Meanwhile, in July and throughout August, the repatriation of German forces took place; the Germans were taken in groups and first searched by SAS troops before embarking. According to a Brigade report, relations between the SAS and the Norwegians were very cordial. On 28 July, Crown Prince Olaf visited Bergen and inspected the troops. Roy Close left Norway before the unit pulled out. Here he gives a glimpse into their duties and their relationships with the Norwegians.
We were rounding up Luftwaffe and German submariners. They took the view that they hadn’t lost the war; they were untouched because they had been bypassed. They were very arrogant so we had to round them up, disarm them and put them in POW compounds. What we did was to do all of the work in the morning and in the afternoon we waterskied round the fjords. We had made some waterskis out of old packing cases and we’d taken these German Sturm boats. And then, when we got back to our billets, we went through the invitations for the evening from friendly Norwegians and decided which ones to accept. We got back, perhaps early next morning, just before we went on parade to round up the next lot. That went on for some time.
There was a wonderful chap called Ted Badger, a fellow officer, and towards the end of our stay in Norway I had to go to Paris to help in the SAS office that was being set up there. You would think that when the signal came, and said, ‘Please nominate an officer to an office in Paris,’ that you would get killed in the rush. Not at all! Nobody wanted to go; life in Norway was much better. So we actually did draw straws and I lost; I drew the short straw. So, when I went, Ted Badger came to me and asked if I had ever read a book, Lost Horizon, by a chap called James Hilton. Something to do with Shangri-La? I said that I had. And he said, ‘You know what happened to them when they left Shangri-La?’ I said that I did. And he said, ‘They all fell to pieces; the flesh fell off them. When you get to London, send us a signal to assure us that you are all right. This place must be like Shangri-La.’ It was a wonderful thought on his part. You could say that Norway was a bit therapeutic.49
Elsewhere, at the highest level within the Allies, strategic decisions had been taken and the atom bomb was used. Japan surrendered on 15 August, and three days later the advance parties of the SAS Regiments left Norway. On 25 August, the regiments sailed for the UK on the SS Dunotter Castle. On their departure, ‘1 and 2 SAS Regiments were not replaced by any other British troops’,50 and on 15 September command of the Bergen Zone passed from British to Norwegian hands.
Over the years, the departure of SAS troops from Norway has become tainted, according to some anecdotal accounts of a large street brawl between troops and the local police. No reference to any incidents, large or small scale, appears in the Brigade report – there is not even a hint of tension. It may be that some local incident became exaggerated over time. But it is most improbable that Crown Prince Olaf of Norway would have visited the British regiments had a major incident taken place before 28 July. As the withdrawal of SAS troops had been scheduled to take place sooner rather than later, the final stages of the repatriation of the German forces who had invaded their country would have been most appropriately overseen by the Norwegian authorities. And in the light of Mayne’s letter to Tony Marsh the previous November, where he was so concerned about the unit’s public profile, it is hard to believe that behaviour which was not condoned in Brussels would have been tolerated in Bergen.
Disbandment lay ahead – and soon. But the regiment would not pass into oblivion, for the interest of the media had been turned to it. The change had come about the previous year. The press, during both world wars of the twentieth century, performed an important social function and the military was aware of its important role. On 11 May 1944, Gen Eisenhower, Supreme Allied Commander, issued a directive to all military commanders indicating that at his first press conference as Supreme Commander he had told the war correspondents that once they were accredited to his headquarters, he considered them ‘quasi-staff officers’. He instructed commanders, subject to operational requirements – of which they would be the sole judge – to allow correspondents sufficient scope ‘in order to visualise and transmit to the public’.51 Mayne kept a copy of the directive in his file; its import was not lost on him. So while the official record of the 8th Army was written up in 1944 in ignorance of the identity of the unit, the press and radio began to describe the work of both British SAS Regiments in France. The press went on to give an outline of the unit’s activities in the desert war, and so began a process of romanticising its achievements that would continue for the next half-century and beyond. Mayne was the leader who had the continuity with the unit from its birth; he was written about. In one 1944 newspaper report, for example, Mayne’s activities were compared to a Bulldog Drummond escapade.52 In another he was portrayed as the cool hero who, having placed time bombs on enemy planes, ‘strolled into the officers’ mess of the German coastal battery and dealt with the occupants before driving away’.53 But the unit had been correctly identified and Mayne was portrayed as its dashing leader. So while he was a man who courted no publicity for himself, he was happy to talk to a BBC correspondent about the unit. It happened in Paris after the regiment had returned from Norway.
Roy Close was now in the Paris office of the SAS, whose function was mainly a goodwill operation.
We had to distribute certificates and letters of thanks to the French who had helped us in the final campaign as well as trying to find out about those of the regiment who had been posted missing. David Astor, a major in the Royal Marines, had been in charge of the office. It was in the Paris office that I met the person who was to become my wife; she was in the WRNS and had worked in an office liaising between the regiment and the Free French. She was posted to work in the Paris office of the SAS. Paddy came over to visit the office when I introduced him to Robin Duff, a BBC war correspondent whom I had met there and who had earlier interviewed one of our patrols after a mission in France. We all had dinner together. Afterwards, Robin Duff told me that Paddy told him he was very proud of the regiment, made up of all kinds of fine people – even some intelligent officers.54
The unit’s final base was at Chelmsford. Mike Sadler and Sgt Maj Rose returned from their bond-raising tour of the USA. Their last combat operation behind them, everyone had to give some thought to the future; and as the regiment was to be disbanded, the process being completed in about one month, they would soon be precipitated again into civilian life. Roy Close remembered their facing it:
Few of us knew what we would do. I remember sitting with colleagues and asking the question, ‘What the hell are we going to do now?’ We couldn’t make up our minds, and so there was a lot of concentration on trying to find the right direction. Most of us were not trained for anything in civilian life. We had to come to terms with the fact that life was not going to be the great exciting thing that it was during the war.55
For Mayne, by comparison, it could have been relatively simple: a few weeks demob leave and then a return to practising law. However, nothing would ever be the same again for him. No avenue of life could equal the excitement, the achievement and the responsibility he had had. With the volume of paperwork that had to be undertaken for a unit about to be disbanded, and with writing references for officers and men who might need them in the future, Mayne had not a great deal of time to reflect on his own future in civilian life. So he responded, on the instant, to an opportunity that came along. Mike Sadler did not feel like returning to Rhodesia. He was acting as adjutant during those final months, when an invitation came to the unit asking for volunteers to join the Falkland Islands Dependencies Survey for a two-year contract to work in Antarctica. It appealed to Sadler. ‘I took it to Paddy and said, “I’m volunteering.” He said, “If you’re going, I’m coming too.”’56 In fact, three of the unit volunteered: Mayne, Sadler and Tonkin.
And there came an elegant conclusion to the five years Mayne spent in Special Services, in the form of a letter from Bob Laycock. Although Mayne had not been under Combined Operations control for the past year and a half, Laycock’s letter reveals a patron’s pride in a protégé. It is also a very warm letter. For it was he who, in June 1941, recognised Mayne’s potential from his results at the Litani operation, and who, the following month, was able to recommend him to David Stirling; and it was largely under his command that Mayne had led the Special Raiding Squadron.
Combined Operations Headquarters
1A Richmond Terrace
Whitehall SW1
28 August 1945
My Dear Paddy
I feel that I must drop you a line just to tell you how very deeply I appreciate the great honour of being able to address, as my friend, an officer who has succeeded in accomplishing the practically unprecedented task of collecting no less than four DSOs. (I am informed that there is another such superman in the Royal Air Force.)
You deserve all the more, and in my opinion, the appropriate authorities do not really know their job. If they did they would have given you a VC as well.
Please do not dream of answering this letter, which brings with it my sincerest admiration and a deep sense of honour in having, at one time, been associated with you.
Yours ever,
Bob Laycock57
Rarely could a career officer have been addressed in such terms by a general; but for a lawyer, turned soldier for the duration of the war, it must be unique.
In October 1945, the regiment was disbanded. During the final parades, Mayne stood out in height and breadth of shoulder, an impressive figure, wearing the beige beret from the desert days. He was occupied with administration until the beginning of November; then he cleared his desk, and left the Army.