The Fighting Fourth E-Book

James Dunning

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 413

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2010

Beschreibung

Covering the legendary Lofoten and Dieppe raids, the D-Day landings and the capture of Flushing, James Dunning recounts the history of No. 4 Commando, an elite wartime special service unit, from formation in 1940 to disbandment five years later. The author, himself, a 'Fighting Fourth' veteran, describes how 500 volunteers, despite initial problems, prejudices and frustrations, developed into one of the most feared fighting formations of the Second World War. The extraordinarily tough and unorthodox training undertaken by No. 4 Commando prepared them for the raids of 1941 and 1942, their protracted involvement on D-Day and for 83 days' action in the struggle for Normandy. Their last major operation was the storming and capture of the vital port of Flushing in November 1944. This readable and authoritative history of the unit reveals their important role in the Second World War.

Leseprobe

THE

FIGHTINGFOURTH

No.4 COMMANDO AT WAR 1940–45

JAMES DUNNING

This book is dedicated to all ranks of No. 4 Commando who served, trained and fought together during the Second World War from 1940 to 1945.

We were a team held together by our training and shared experiences. No other form of endurance, except great danger at sea or on the mountains, could bring about the same links of comradeship. We were bound to one another – men on the same rope . . .

Lord Lovat, writing of No. 4 Commandoin his autobiography, March Past.

First published in 2013

The History Press

The Mill, Brimscombe Port

Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

This ebook edition first published in 2013

All rights reserved

© James Dunning, 2003, 2010, 2013

The right of James Dunning to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

EPUB ISBN 978 0 7509 5191 3

Original typesetting by The History Press

Contents

List of Maps

Author’s Foreword

Acknowledgements

Introduction

  1

It All Started in Weymouth

  2

And So to Scotland

  3

Action at Last, in the Lofoten Islands

  4

The Lovat Philosophy – ‘Train Hard, Fight Easy’

  5

The Dieppe Raid – 19 August 1942

  6

Post-Dieppe and the End of the Lovat Era

  7

Training, Training, and Preparations for D-Day

  8

To Normandy – ‘The Longest Day’

  9

The Long Stint – 7 June to 9 September

10

Walcheren – Perfect Little Campaign

11

It All Ended in Germany

Bibliography

List of Maps

1 Maps

1

The Lofoten Islands.

2

The Dieppe Raid, 1942 – Operation Jubilee.

3

The Dieppe Raid, 1942 – Operation Cauldron.

4

Ouistreham, the morning of 6 June 1944.

5

The Normandy Campaign, 6 June to 6 September 1944.

6

No. 4 Commando operations, November 1944 to May 1945.

7

Operation Infatuate, the assault on Flushing, 1 November 1944.

Author’s Foreword

Following the success of a previous book, It Had To Be Tough, which dealt exclusively with the story of the origins of the Commandos and their special training in the Second World War, deliberately excluding narratives or accounts of the actions fought by these Special Service troops, it was suggested that I should attempt to write the whole story of No. 4 Commando, of which I had been a founder member.

The idea appealed to me, albeit I appreciated it posed a formidable undertaking, especially as, although I had joined No. 4 Commando in the beginning, I left the unit a couple of months after its successful participation in the Dieppe Raid to become an instructor at the Commando Basic Training Centre at Achnacarry in Scotland. It meant that from January 1943 my account would no longer be based on personal experiences, but dependent on records, accounts, books and the memories of others.

I need not have worried, for my old comrades rallied round and, thanks to the assistance of the Secretary of the Commando Association, Ron Youngman, I soon had contributions, in words and photographs, from a host of ex-members of No. 4. Without their splendid support and help this book would not have materialised; there were so many of them that I have acknowledged their help individually, and that of others on pages xi–xii. I have also been able to quote from books written by ex-members of the Commando.

I must, however, thank my dear wife, Jane, separately, and here, for her help, encouragement and understanding during the months that I have been engaged on this fascinating war story.

Acknowledgements

I decided to make a separate issue of acknowledging all those old comrades, friends and others who have been so generous in their help with the writing of this book, in making contributions, lending photographs or maps, and also allowing me to quote from their books.

Four officers, the late Brigadiers Lord Lovat and Mills-Roberts, the late Capt Gilchrist and the late Lt McDougall all wrote of their experiences in No. 4 Commando, but none of these authors covered its early formative period. Where I have quoted them I mention the source in the narrative.

A further fifty-eight old comrades of No. 4 have also contributed in some way to this story and they are listed below; where applicable I have also mentioned them as the source in the text. Special acknowledgement must be made to the family of the late Bill Bidmead, of No. 4, who kindly sent me the unpublished manuscript of Bill’s detailed record and story of his service in the war. Another special word of thanks must be afforded to Col Alastair Thorburn, the sole known surviving officer of No. 4’s campaigns in Normandy and Walcheren, who kindly checked the chapters on those actions.

I am grateful for the help and advice received from Leon Gaultier, one of those intrepid French Commandos who stormed ashore with the rest of No. 4 on 6 June, and his comrade Maurice Chauvet, who was there too.

Grateful thanks are also extended to Emyr Jones, who, against all odds, toiled for a couple of years to produce a roll of the members of No. 4 who went on the Dieppe Raid, as there was no official list. He has an encyclopaedic knowledge of that action as a result of this research, so I thank him for checking the chapter on the Raid, and also to Will Fowler for allowing me to quote from his book.

As I was nearing the end of my researches an old comrade of my Commando days at St Ives, Jimmy Pook, kindly sent me a bundle of items connected with the D-Day landings since his uncle, the late Lt Cdr Jack Berry, was captain of LC1 523, which took one of the French troops ashore. I thank him for allowing me to reproduce items from that original source.

I also thank Ron Youngman, especially for helping me track down the following veterans of No. 4, whose contributions and support have been great and are most gratefully acknowledged: Messrs R.J Anderson, ‘Curly’ Anderson, Norman ‘Monty’ Banks, Chris Birmingham, ‘Ted’ Brewer, George Bridges, E.B. Briggs, Ernie Brooks, Joe Burnett, Pete Burrows, R. Buxton, the late D. Clement, L. Cocker, Dennis Cooper, Capt Eric Cross, Johnny Duhig, Frank Farnborough, Len Fraser, J. Givens, Jack Griffiths, E. Havilland, ‘Bill’ Hoare, ‘Ossie’ Hughes, Hugh Hunter, Charlie Jacobs, Bill Johnson, George Jones, Gwyn Jones, Peter Lambert, Frank Lansley, Vic Lessons, the late Les Lilley, Jim Linham, the late Gerry Lynn, Bob Mahan, ‘Maxie’ Maxwell, Alex Morris, Fred Morris, John Murray, ‘Rollie’ Oliver, Bill Parker, Malcolm Parr, Larry Phillips, ‘JED’ Price, Glyn Prosser, Col P.G.B. Pugh, John Skerry, Stan Smith, Milton Smithson, Peter Snook, Joe Spicer, Ken Stoakes, Gerry Swailes, Roy Tarbox, Bob Tout, George Tyreman, Denys Vickers and Doug Webb.

Finally, I wish to thank the staff of the Imperial War Museum, the Public Record Office and the National Army Museum, also the Military Attaché at the Norwegian Embassy, Mr and Mrs Van Asperan and John Martin (the nephew of the late Don Martin) for their kind help, advice and contributions.

Introduction

One of the significant outcomes of the Second World War was the recognition of the strategic and tactical value of Special Forces, but it wasn’t until Winston Churchill took over the premiership – and leadership – of Britain that the raising of an elite force of volunteers was contemplated and steps were taken to create such a force.

It was a challenging innovation for the British Army and a breakaway from outdated concepts of warfare that prevailed at the beginning of the war and during the months of the so-called ‘phoney war’ and in the ‘Maginot Line’ philosophy that preceded the fall of France.

The first Special Service troops to be formed were the Army Commandos, and it is a salutory thought to reflect that all four of our current Special Forces, namely the Royal Marine Commandos, the Parachute Regiment, the Special Air Service (SAS) and the Special Boat Service (SBS) all share the same origin, namely, the first Army Commandos formed on Churchill’s orders in July 1940.

No. 2 Commando became Britain’s first unit of paratroopers and as such were the ‘founding fathers’ of the Parachute Regiment, while the SAS and SBS were founded by two Army Commando officers, David Stirling and Roger Courtney, and although the Army Commandos were disbanded in 1945, their Royal Marine Commando comrades survived and have maintained the traditions and high standards of military excellence established by the first Army Commandos from 1940 onwards.

The story that follows is the history of one such Commando, No. 4, from its first day in Weymouth in July 1940 to its ultimate demise and disbandment in Recklinghausen, Germany, in January 1946. It relates how during those years a superb fighting unit was created from 500 volunteers who initially came from many different regiments and corps of the British Army. They all hoped for immediate action, but for a variety of reasons this was denied them. In truth they were not ready to carry out successful amphibious raiding operations. Two early raids by other Commando forces had proved this point – they were dismal failures. These early Commando volunteers had neither the means nor sufficient training for immediate results.

But during those early formative, if frustrating, months all ranks got physically fit, leaders were found, the unfit, unsuitable and unwanted were returned to their unit (RTU’d), new weapons and equipment began to trickle in, the right types of landing craft became available, and new methods, skills, techniques and battle drills were developed, often from scratch, to meet the demands and requirements of the proposed amphibious operations. Consequently many months passed before the men of No. 4 Commando eventually carried out their first raid and won their spurs on the Lofoten Islands. It was a start.

Thereafter, there were many disappointments as operations were planned and rehearsed, then cancelled – often at the last moment. In one such project, a special composite troop was even sent out to West Africa to make preparations for the follow-up of the rest of No. 4 Commando before an amphibious assault on the Canary Islands.

Disappointed, but undeterred, the Commando continued to train hard. This training forged the fighting force that became the only unit to successfully carry out its mission on the Dieppe Raid, where, among other awards for gallantry, one of its numbers, Capt Pat Porteous, won the Victoria Cross.

There followed more months of varied and strenuous training (plus some small raids), undertaken throughout the length and breadth of England, Scotland and Wales. This ranged from cliff climbing in South Wales and rock climbing in North Wales to snow and mountain warfare training in the Cairngorms, from boating exercises in the Atlantic swell of Devon and Cornwall to the more placid waters of the Norfolk Broads, interspersed with street fighting training in blitzed areas of Southampton, London and Glasgow, while one entire troop also qualified as paratroopers. There was no end to the variety of courses attended and innovative training carried out as a prelude to being picked for a place in Montgomery’s order of battle to spearhead the invasion of Normandy on D-Day.

No. 4 Commando, by now an integrated British-French Commando, stormed ashore on that momentous day to destroy vital enemy strongpoints that dominated the extreme eastern flank of the Allied landing beaches at Ouistreham. The account of that action on 6 June is recalled by those, British and French, of the Commando who were there. It makes graphic reading.

For the next eighty-three days the men of No. 4 Commando, with their other Commando and Airborne comrades, held the left flank of the Allies’ invasion bridgehead, before the capture of Caen and the breakout from Falaise. This was a period when every man in the Commando – even the clerks became front-line soldiers – was involved in daring counter-attacks and patrols in a calculated Commando policy of ‘offensive defence’.

After Normandy and a short break in England, No. 4 Commando was soon back in action again, when it took part in what was aptly called ‘a perfect little campaign’. It included a night landing and assault to capture the port of Flushing.

From then onwards the Commando was part of the force that had the arduous task of defending the flank of the Allies’ advance in Germany by securing the island of Walcheren from enemy incursions. It was a long, cold winter, followed by a rapid move into Germany, to Recklinghausen, for the irksome task of guarding a camp of Nazis whose wartime activities warranted their detention and, ironically, the Commando was called upon to protect the local German farming community from marauding bands of displaced persons.

Sadly, the days of the Commando were numbered, and in January 1946 No. 4 Commando was disbanded. It was an inglorious ending to a distinguished wartime Commando. Fortunately, the deeds and achievements of all ranks of the Commando have been kept alive through memorials, museums, books and films. Indeed, such tributes are widespread and are to be found not only in Britain but also in France, Norway and Holland, and although diverse and varied in their forms, they are there to serve one joint purpose, namely, to honour the memory of all who served in the Fighting Fourth – No. 4 Commando – from 1940 to 1946.

CHAPTER ONE

It All Started in Weymouth

It was one of those glorious summers we all dream about – and hope for. Each morning ushered in a clear blue sky and the promise of yet another warm and sunny day. But – and it was a big ‘But’ – it was wartime. And even worse, Britain’s fortunes were at their lowest ebb, as it faced an imminent enemy invasion. For within the space of just three weeks in June 1940 the armies of France, Britain and the Low Countries had been routed and defeated by Hitler’s forces, who had swept on to the Channel ports and forced the withdrawal from Europe of the British Army, by way of evacuation at Dunkirk.

As a result, in July 1940 Britain stood alone, seemingly ill equipped and unprepared to face and repel a threatened invasion by the Nazis, who were now masters of Europe, dominating the western coastline from the Arctic in the north to nearly as far as the Pyrenees to the south.

Indeed, with a plan of invasion (Operation Sea Lion) prepared and in hand, the Germans had already made a start with a series of daylight air raids on targets in the south of England, thus beginning the Battle of Britain.

They were grim days. The fearsome threat of invasion occupied the thoughts and lives of everyone. Nevertheless, it was against this daunting background that the prime minister, Winston Churchill, took the bold decision to look ahead beyond the bleak, immediate future, and, appreciating the potentially vulnerable and extensive European coastline held by the enemy, proposed that an elite force be raised to take the fight to the enemy with seaborne and airborne raids.

In the immediate short term these elite forces, or Commandos, as they were soon to be called, would be available to repel enemy seaborne incursions and parachute descents, but their main purpose was to wage a campaign of ‘tip and run’ raids on the enemy coastline.

Churchill’s audacious and adventurous plan, in the circumstances then prevailing, was soon translated into action, with the result that the Dorset seaside resort of Weymouth became the base of one such unit. By the third week of July some 500 volunteers from close on 90 different regiments and corps of the British Army arrived in the town to form this new unit – No. 4 Commando. On arrival we all quickly found out that even routine life in a Commando was going to be vastly different from what we had been accustomed to in our previous units, when we lived in barracks or wartime camps. One of the features of this new force was the prerequisite that every individual – officers and other ranks (ORs) alike – would be responsible for his own quartering and feeding.

This arrangement was an innovation in the British Army. There were many training, administrative and operational reasons for this novel and unusual arrangement; not least it meant that the Commando had no lengthy ‘tail’ of cooks, orderlies, fatigue men and other personnel employed on purely administrative duties, as did the rest of the Army. Those irksome and unpopular daily chores could account for as many as 20 per cent of the personnel unavailable for training, contrasting with the Commandos, who, living in civilian billets, could count on almost 100 per cent of their personnel available, all the time, for training and ready for operations. Furthermore, this system of making every man responsible for his own quartering helped to foster self-discipline and self-reliance, important factors in a force of this kind.

To make the system work was simplicity itself. All ranks were paid a daily subsistence allowance and given a ration card. The allowance was 13s 4d for officers and 6s 8d for ORs. In both cases it was a flat rate throughout: the subaltern got the same as his colonel, and likewise, the private soldier the same as his regimental sergeant-major (RSM). The ration card, exactly the same as that issued to civilians during the war, was a vital piece of paper; without it none of the basic foods could be purchased. The subsistence allowance adequately covered bed and breakfast, and two other meals per day, and was paid to the landladies on a weekly basis. This added up to 30 bob – £1 10s.

All the bases chosen for the new Commandos had to be on the coast, where, inter alia, boating and swimming facilities were at hand, and this led to the choice of Weymouth for No. 4 Commando. With so many of the traditional seaside B & B landladies unable to let their rooms because of the war and restrictive regulations applying to coastal areas, these good ladies were only too glad to offer the Commandos accommodation, and they soon became their ‘lads’, while some of the younger landladies were not averse to welcoming a virile young Commando to her ‘bed – and breakfast’ establishment!

Most of the Commandos were billeted in traditional B & Bs, and were provided with three daily meals. The ration cards enabled the landladies to buy the basic rationed foods – meat, butter, cheese, tea and sugar. Fortunately, some other foods such as bread, milk, home-grown potatoes, vegetables and fruit were not rationed, enabling the shopkeeper to sell them on a rota basis, or ‘under the counter’ as depicted by L/Cpl Jones in the popular TV series, Dad’s Army.

It was ironic that the Commandos, about to undergo the toughest physical training, did so on ‘civvy’ rations, whereas the rest of the Army living in barracks, many of whom were employed in sedentary jobs, had much larger service rations. However, this didn’t worry us. We were often able to supplement our landladies’ larders with the odd rabbit, chicken and/or fish obtained during exercises when we were ‘living off the land’ or during some boating practice or river crossing, when we did a spot of fishing with the odd 36 grenade.

After the first night in their new billets, the whole unit, less one Troop, which arrived later in Weymouth, assembled for the first time. It was 22 July. Close on 100 different regiments, infantry, armoured, artillery, engineers and service corps, were all represented, with each man wearing the distinctive cap badge and flashes of his late parent unit. It presented a motley collection of forage and SD caps, tam-o’-shanters and berets, but would have provided a ‘field day’ for any military cap badge collector.

The assembly was held in the Weymouth Pavilion, on the sea front, which had been requisitioned as Commando Headquarters. As we waited for the ‘welcome’ talk from our new commanding officer, there was an unforgettable air of excitement, an exhilarating atmosphere and a babble of animated conversation, which came to an abrupt halt and hush when the newly appointed RSM, ‘Jumbo’ Morris of the Royal Tank Regiment, from the stage and in full view, bellowed out, ‘Parade . . . ’Shun’, before saluting and handing over to the commanding officer.

For most of us it was the first glimpse of the CO, Lt Col C.P.D. Legard, of the 5th Inniskillin Dragoon Guards, a tall, lean and fit-looking officer with an elegant, yet dashing, appearance in his service dress uniform, shining Sam Browne belt and the distinctive green trousers of that famous cavalry regiment the history of which went back to the seventeenth century. We later learnt that he was an international sportsman, having represented Great Britain in the Olympic Games of 1932 and 1936, participating in the Modern Pentathlon, finishing eighth in his first Games, but dropping back to nineteenth four years later when they were held in Berlin. Legard apparently liked to recall that during the opening ceremonial march-past, in front of Hitler, he ‘gave the bastard a V-sign salute’!

In his opening talk the colonel outlined the intended role of Commandos – ‘hit and run raids’ on the extended enemy coastline. He warned that the training would necessarily be tough and demanding, and accordingly some might not be able to cope with it. For those who couldn’t measure up to the high standards demanded there was only one outcome – RTU. Such military action was again unique, but the subsequent records of the Commandos prove that this seemingly drastic, but obviously necessary, action was one of the major factors contributing to their success. Furthermore, he emphasised that the decision to RTU any officer or man was his, and his alone, and there would be no appeal against it. We were left in no doubt on this important issue. He also mentioned the origin of the designation ‘Commando’. At that time most of us had no idea that it belonged to an old enemy, the Boer guerrillas, who had wrought some humiliating defeats on the British Army – and captured Winston Churchill – in the Boer War of 1900–2. Finally, he stressed the need to prepare for action as quickly as possible; he stated that we would have to be ready in weeks rather than months. There was no time to lose.

With high hopes of almost immediate action we left the Pavilion eager to start training and prepare for that first raid. During the next few days as we settled down to our new ‘lifestyle’, the priority for training was on getting fit and on individual weapon training.

Fortunately, one of the original volunteers, the late Sgt ‘Tich’ Garnett, later in the war was given the old F Troop Diary that covered the first three months of that Troop’s existence. He kindly lent it to me for my previous book, It Had To Be Tough, which deals in detail with the origins of all the Commandos and their special training in the Second World War, but does not cover any of the actions fought, so I was able to extract pertinent details of the early days of No. 4 from the diary’s pages.

In his introduction to the Troop Diary, Capt Young wrote: ‘We have got off to a flying start. There are men from every walk of life, a poacher, Harris (also a reservist who had served in India), a Colonel’s son, Addison, a “Wall of Death” stunt rider, Knowles, a farmer, Holgate, an International TT rider, Locke, an artist, Ingram, and many other colourful characters, all of whom have volunteered not only out of a sincere desire to serve their country, but also for fun and adventure.’ It is important to add that, although there were ‘colourful characters’ in F Troop, throughout the whole unit such men were in the minority. Furthermore, contrary to later media reports we had no ‘hard cases’, men who had received their education in borstal, or who had served prison sentences for such crimes as safe-cracking.

Unfortunately, soon after the Commandos were formed and their existence and exploits made public, the press reports and coverage tended to present them as ‘undisciplined thugs and homicidal maniacs’. This was unwelcome and untrue, and cast a slur on all who served in the Commandos at the time. It was even used by the Germans, who made propaganda use of it with statements such as ‘England has . . . opened up a non-military form of gangster war!’

Fortunately, forceful steps were quickly taken, with success, to redress the balance with a series of media reports on the background, training and types of men serving in the Commandos. None were supermen. It was their high standards of training, physical and mental stamina, discipline and determination, plus outstanding leadership from officers and NCOs, that produced the high morale and confidence that brought undeniable success in action worldwide.

The range of ages and service is highlighted by mentioning the following extremes. Among the ORs were a venerable trio of ‘old sweats’. ‘Chalky’ Blunden had served as an under-age soldier in the First World War. He was renowned for being the first in his troop to offer to carry the unpopular Boys anti-tank rifle, but, more importantly, he was to win the Military Medal at Dieppe.

Next was ‘Dusty’ Maund, a rascally character, fearless, outspoken, but loyal and dependable in action. He became the batman/runner/‘minder’ to a young subaltern, Robert Dawson, at Weymouth, and stayed with him throughout the war, during which time Dawson advanced from Section Officer to Commanding Officer. Maund was one of the first in No. 4 to be decorated, when he was ‘Mentioned in Dispatches’ for his part in the Lofoten Islands Raid.

The third was ‘Private’ Donkin, who teamed up with his mate, McVeigh, to make a legendary and inseparable ‘team’ until a German bullet outside a bunker in Flushing killed the 41-year-old Donkin. But more about this couple later, especially as McVeigh was a tough, courageous, yet also outspoken soldier, who was to win the Distinguished Conduct Medal (DCM).

The RSM, ‘Jumbo’, Bill Morris, also stands out. A long-serving warrant officer of the Royal Tank Regiment (RTR), he was not one of those swearing, bullying, barrack-square tyrants, but a level-headed and ‘firm but fair’ RSM, who didn’t demand obedience and respect, but earned it from all ranks in No. 4. He was no athlete: he struggled on the speed marches and hated them but never dodged or ‘ducked’ them. He set an example. We all saw how he kept going, nigh on ‘knackered’, yet refused to give in. In action, he was always calm, dependable and courageous, and deservedly won a Military Cross – a rare honour for those not commissioned officers – before a serious wound on the Flushing operation ended his Commando days.

At the other end of the age scale were two very young regular soldiers, barely off ‘Boy Service’, Gunners Pike and Halliday. Great pals, they steadily earned promotion as young dependable NCOs. Both saw action at Lofoten and Dieppe before being commissioned.

Prominent among the early officers of No. 4 was Robert Dawson, whose spectacular rise has already been mentioned. He ultimately won the Distinguished Service Order (DSO), the Légion d’Honneur and the Croix de Guerre. He was a great innovator in training matters and responsible for introducing ‘battle drills’ based on fire and movement to the Commando, plus some ‘hair-raising’ schemes for cliff assaults.

Gordon Webb was another ‘original’ who later distinguished himself in action. A gunner officer, tough, resourceful and always ready to see the funny side of a grave situation, especially in action, he took over B Troop in 1941 and commanded it for most of the rest of the war, earning a Military Cross and a bar to it. He was one of those officers whom the troops were prepared ‘to follow . . . anywhere’.

There were many outstanding ORs I should like to mention by name because they played prominent parts in the history of No. 4, but space precludes this. Nevertheless, it is important to record that most of the NCOs who led their sub-sections ashore on D-Day in 1944 were only privates when they originally joined No. 4 at Weymouth in 1940. They became the backbone of the Commando.

After more than sixty years their names spring to mind: Hughie Lindley, John Skerry, ‘Tich’ Garnett, Frank Major, Danny Holdsworth, ‘Darkie’ Woodward, Ernie Brooks and Frank Bend, while TSMs Portman, Heaynes, Chattaway and Edwards had likewise climbed the ladder of promotion.

In contrast to these senior NCOs, who were all ‘originals’ and rose up through the ranks over time, a lot of the best-known names among the officers of the Commando, namely Mills-Roberts, Porteous, Carr, McDougal, Gilchrist, Thorburn, Burt and Menday, did not join the Commando until after the Lofoten Raid and, in the case of the three last named, after the Dieppe Raid.

Now for a few details on the organisation of the Commando when it was formed in 1940 and consisted of Headquarters and ten troops. Each troop had a captain, two subalterns, four sergeants, eight corporals, twelve lance-corporals and twenty-three private soldiers, making a total of fifty all ranks. The organisation of the troop was based on just two in Troop HQ (the troop leader and his batman/runner), two sections (each commanded by a subaltern, who also had a batman/runner) and which in turn consisted of two sub-sections, each led by a sergeant, and was made up of two corporals, three lance-corporals and five private soldiers.

Commando Headquarters – consisting of the CO, second-in-command (2IC), adjutant, medical officer, administrative officer, intelligence officer, RSM, clerks, medical orderlies, intelligence staff and just two drivers – only the CO and the administrative officer had vehicles – plus a very important man, the armourer – totalled just over forty all ranks. Naturally all ranks in HQ were volunteers serving under the same conditions as those in the ten fighting troops.

Col Legard had recruited the medical officer (MO), ‘Doc’ Wood. It was an excellent choice. Tall, lean and already fit, Wood had been a police doctor before the war, and he took to the physical side of the training with obvious relish and was able to transmit his enthusiasm to all in his section, most of whom had served with him in France and at Dunkirk. They were a great bunch of ‘medics’.

The original intelligence section was small, an officer and three other ranks, but over the next few years this number increased in keeping with demands made on its services. Again the Commando was fortunate in having some excellent officers and men who, over the next five and a half years, served in this section. Thanks to them we are all able to follow the fortunes of the No. 4 through the pages of the War Diary of the unit which they compiled on the spot as the events took place. The Diary has been kept and preserved in the Public Record Office, Kew.

Following the CO’s talk on that first day, no time was lost in starting the training. Everyone was keen ‘to get cracking’. But what kind of training? Unfortunately no unit training directives have survived, if they ever existed, and there is no mention made of them in the Troop Diary. However, one can deduce from the details of training and comments made in the Diary – plus personal experiences – what these priorities were.

The fact that the Commando was expected to prepare for its first mission as soon as possible, rather than in a given time of, say, three months hence, posed limitations and problems which were exacerbated by the fact that the unit was made up of volunteers from such a wide range of military backgrounds and experiences.

With hindsight it would have been better to have made sure that all ranks were proficient in basic individual skills before even starting on the collective training of troop and section movement, tactics and deployment. However, in the circumstances, this was not possible, so we had to start on individual and collective training at the same time, and it wasn’t easy, especially in F Troop, with so few infantrymen.

Accepting this situation, the priorities were clearly as follows. First and foremost was the overall need for all ranks to get physically fit, not for the playing of team games on the sports fields, but fit to fight on the battlefield. There is a big difference. Second was the need to set and achieve the highest possible standards of skill-at-arms, in the handling and firing of the Commando weapons. Third was the need to be able to move quickly and quietly, with arms and equipment, over all sorts of terrain, including the crossing of obstacles and the climbing of cliffs. Fourth, for the raiding role envisaged, it was imperative to train in seamanship and the handling of small boats, and to develop the techniques and tactics necessary to carry out amphibious operations successfully. These were the immediate priorities, but there were other subjects to be tackled, such as map reading and compass work, signalling and inter-communications, and explosives and demolitions.

During the first few weeks weapons training was limited. Every man in the Commando was issued with a rifle, if he hadn’t brought one with him from his previous unit, and every officer had a pistol. That was it. No automatic carbines, and so the few Bren guns that they had had to be kept in Commando HQ and issued for instructional purposes on a rota basis.

All the rifles were the Short Magazine Lee Enfield (SMLE), with bayonet boss and standard to affix the 18-in steel bayonet – shades of the famous Dad’s Army quip, ‘they don’t like it up ’em’. Although this rifle had been in service with the British Army since 1895, it was both reliable and popular with the troops. It had a nice simple bolt/breech action, making it, in the hands of the well-trained soldier, capable of a relatively high rate of rapid fire – as the Germans had found out in the opening months of the First World War. The SMLE rifle fired a .303 round and the magazine held ten rounds. It could also project grenades (Mills 36) from a special screw-on cup, making it useful as a mini-mortar to engage enemy behind cover.

The early issues of pistols to officers were either Webleys or Enfields, but both types fired a .38 calibre round. There wasn’t much difference between them; both were of the same weight and length and the chambers held just six rounds and fired single shots. Pre-war training with the pistol had focused on holding the hand gun in front of the face and taking a deliberate aim, but this method was about to be challenged in the wake of new ideas on close-quarter combat, and the replacement of these pistols with the US .45 Colt automatic.

The Bren Light Machine Gun (LMG), on which all were trained, had been introduced to the British Army in 1935 when it started to replace the old Lewis Machine Gun, although some of the latter were still in service in the Royal Navy, and the men of No. 4 used them when they were later attached to some of the smaller RN ships in the role of ack-ack (anti-aircraft) gunners.

The Bren was relatively light, weighing about 23 lb (10.4 kg). Gas-operated, it fired single rounds or automatic bursts. The magazine, which held 30 rounds (although to prevent undue stress on the spring it was normal to restrict loading to 28 rounds), was fitted on to the top of the weapon. The barrels were air-cooled, but after sustained firing could be changed. This was a simple operation taking only a few seconds, or the barrel could be ‘water-cooled’ naturally, by pissing on it.

We had our first shoot on the ranges at Lulworth on 2 August, but we only had enough ammunition to zero our rifles and two practice shoots at 100 and 200 yards, a total of 25 rounds per man. However, there were just 50 rounds left over and these were used to let two junior NCOs, earmarked as Bren gunners, fire one mag each. This they did at a 4-foot target, first firing in single shots and then in short bursts – while the rest of us stood by and watched. Obviously no realistic choice of Bren gunners could be made under such conditions, but this does reveal the dire situation in respect of ammunition that prevailed after Dunkirk – and we, supposedly, had priority as we were preparing for offensive operations.

A couple of weeks later we were able to train on the Boys anti-tank (A/Tk) rifle, but these too were initially kept in Commando HQ and only issued for training on a rota basis. This weapon had been developed in the mid-1930s in response to a need for a light anti-tank weapon for the infantry. It was named after its inventor, Captain Boys, who unfortunately died just as his weapon was nearing its final trials before going into production. It was essentially a large-scale version of a service rifle, but able to fire as large an armour-piercing bullet with as large a charge as the average soldier could manage to hold and fire with accuracy, given the help of a spring absorber, a flash eliminator and front support legs to fire from the prone position, or on a resting platform of some sort. But even so it gave a nasty kick.

The magazine held just five .55 armour-piercing rounds. It was a heavy and cumbersome weapon, with an overall length of some 5 ft (1613 mm) and weight of 36 lb (16.33 kg). Unfortunately by the time it came into production the armour of even the lightest tanks had increased and so it was of limited use. Nevertheless, the Commandos did later use it in action against pillboxes, gun emplacements and in street-fighting roles. In 1943 the Boys A/Tk rifle was replaced by the PIAT (an acronym for Projector, Infantry, Anti-Tank), a lighter and more efficient weapon.

Appreciating that raids would almost certainly be carried out at night, all troops started on night training and exercises. The F Troop Diary records that two or three night exercises per week were carried out during the first five weeks or so at Weymouth. They were laid on as proper operations, with written orders, and duly reported on afterwards. What is clear from these records – and my own memories – is that they were not altogether successful for a variety of reasons.

The main faults were attributable to over-ambitious exercises – a case of ‘trying to run before we could walk’. Few of the officers, NCOs and men were proficient in moving over unfamiliar ground and maintaining control in the dark. And it was dark too. Under the rigidly enforced wartime ‘blackout’, the only illuminations came from searchlights, gunfire and the explosions of bombs during an air raid, with Weymouth and the surrounding areas having more than their fair share of them, by day and by night. On the subject of air raids, Sapper Allan, in a letter home, wrote: ‘While we were on a night exercise on Friday we saw flashes in the distance where bombs were being dropped, and a member of our Troop arrived back at his billet at 3 a.m. to find a wall of his bedroom completely blown in. . . .’

It soon became clear after starting our training at Weymouth that we were earmarked for seaborne raids and not airborne ones, because all the talk and emphasis was on amphibious operations. In spite of Churchill’s grandiose plans of having a force of 5,000 paratroopers, this had been scaled down to just 500 in a single unit, No. 2 (Para) Commando.

Sadly, none of the Commandos preparing for these seaborne raids was able to start training for assault landings using suitable craft. Initially, we all had to improvise and make do with any boats available at the various bases. At Weymouth we were able to obtain the use of some local rowing boats and motor launches – all civilian – although we did also manage to borrow two naval cutters from the RN Dockyard at nearby Portland.

One troop managed to get some ‘sea service’ aboard one of the smaller unarmed RN boats as ack-ack and anti-E-Boat gunners. John Skerry and Ernie Brooks, both in E Troop, recall such spells of duty on board HMS Computator, a requisitioned trawler. On deck with their Bren and Boys A/Tk rifle, without proper sea-going clothing, they got very wet. ‘I was under water most of the time,’ Skerry laughingly recalls.

The sea landings, for obvious security reasons at this stage of the invasion scare, were restricted to daytime, and it was during one of these, carried out from a requisitioned motor launch, that we nearly suffered our first fatal training accident. On returning to the beach to re-embark, we found that the motor launch was unable to come inshore. There was no alternative but to swim out. It wasn’t too far, about 75 yards or so. Halfway across one man got cramp and went under; fortunately his section officer was at hand, saw what was happening, and took quick action, towing the hapless man to the launch. It was a near thing.

This incident prompted Capt Young to increase the number of swimming sessions in full clothes and kit. These swims were carried out in the sea. Starting from the steps of the Pavilion, we swam parallel to the beach for about 100 yards before turning round to swim back. There were day and night swims. One or two who couldn’t make the grade were RTU’d.

The importance of swimming had also been highlighted in a premature and abortive raid carried out by No. 3 Commando in July, when the only casualties were non-swimmers: one man drowned and three were captured because they couldn’t manage the swim out to the waiting Eureka boat. This is mentioned because this early raid on Guernsey was almost bound to fail; as the CO, Col Durnford-Slater, later wrote, ‘Looking back, I can see that under such rushed conditions, no experience, no proper landing craft and inadequate training, this first operation was doomed to failure.’

About this time our training was interrupted when we were placed under the command of the local area commander, instead of under direct command of the newly formed Combined Operations, for anti-invasion duties. However, our role was limited to that of ‘a mobile reserve’, and not, fortunately, to static beach defences. There was one major problem to our employment as a mobile force: we had no mobility apart from two small Army vehicles and 500-odd pairs of feet!

During the invasion scare No. 4 Commando, then mobile on Army bicycles – all 500 of them – often acted as ‘Fifth Columnists’ to test regular and Home Guard units. Here a group of the Commando, dressed in ‘civvies’ but armed, are seen returning from one such exercise held in Dorset. (Author’s Collection)

But there was a happy outcome. Within a week or so, we were all mobile: a supply of bicycles had been discovered in an Ordnance Depot in Tidworth, North Hampshire. So off we went and collected them, vintage First World War models, and the problem of mobility was solved. We had many interesting exercises and schemes using our bikes, including acting as ‘Fifth Columnists’ to test local regular and Home Guard units, and a memorable six days’ troop exercise, based at Clovelly, in North Devon, where we ‘lived off the land’. We cycled to and from Clovelly by night, not an easy task in the blackout, with no lights, as it was supposed to be ‘operational’. Needless to add there were a few mishaps, but on the whole, as the Diary noted, ‘The rides were carried out successfully, although it rained throughout the journey back.’

However, the more orthodox method of mobility was marching, which played an essential part then – as now – in Commando training. Initially, in our troop, with so few infantrymen, we had problems, mostly from blisters. But gradually in the first few weeks we built up from the steady marches of 8 to 10 miles to regular ones of 15 to 20 miles, and it was quite an event when we did the first 15-miler non-stop in just under four hours. This doesn’t sound much, and compared with latter-day standards it wasn’t, but by regular Army standards of that period it was good going. Furthermore, most marches at this time were with Full Service Marching Order (FSMO), in which we carried all personal needs for protracted action, that is, spare clothing, socks, washing/shaving kit, some rations and groundsheet in the large back-pack, plus a rolled gas-cape, a respirator, personal weapons and ammunition.

But admirable as these fully laden marches were for getting fit and improving stamina – they were often used as a prelude to a two/three day exercise – they didn’t meet the concepts of a ‘quick in and quick out’ mission.

This was a new requirement for which we needed a different approach to traditional route marches. We needed much faster movement, with far less equipment; we had to have a faster rate of marching, combined with steady running – or in Army parlance, ‘doubling’. And so were born the ‘Commando Speed Marches’, which to this day are a special feature of Commando training. Although we made a move in this direction while at Weymouth, we didn’t really start to tackle ‘Speed Marching’ until we left the Dorset town in early October, when the following standards were established:

7 miles in under 70 minutes

9 miles in under 90 minutes

12 miles in under 130 minutes

15 miles in under 170 minutes

To emphasise the fact that these marches were not a fulfilment in themselves, but the means for a troop to get to an objective quickly, yet still fit to fight and carry out a mission, each march was followed with a related task – a mock attack, a firing practice on the ranges or a dash over an assault course. More about some memorable marches later.

Much, but by no means all, of the initial training at Weymouth was based on pre-war regular Army training and done very much to ‘the book’, but although the basic principles of this training were sound, the methods had to be adapted to meet the needs and demands of waging ‘irregular warfare’.

Fortunately, just before the formation of the Commandos a special training centre had been set up in the western Highlands of Scotland, around the castle of Lochailort, for this purpose. It was ideally located in isolated and rugged terrain, with a loch alongside for amphibious training.

The story of how this centre happened to be created is a fascinating one; it tells how a few determined and visionary officers can, particularly in wartime, turn ideas into realities – especially if they have access to those in office ‘in the corridors of power’. A group of officers, mostly from a special unit that had been raised to fight as a ski battalion against the Russians in Finland in early 1940, but subsequently disbanded without being used, together managed to form this special centre.

The instructors came from a mixed background of soldiers, sailors, polar explorers and ghillies, and their expertise covered a wide range of potential military activities. The team included the Stirling brothers (one of whom later joined the Commandos, then later still founded the SAS), Lord Lovat, ‘Mad Mike’ Calvert (a demolition fanatic, who later served with Wingate’s Chindits), Peter Kemp (who was later an SOE agent), Capt Wally Wallbridge (a King’s Medallist for marksmanship on the rifle) and an incredible duo, Capts Fairbairn and Sykes (ex-Shanghai Police officers and martial arts exponents), who introduced unarmed combat to the Commando curriculum. There were other experts who, together, made up a formidable instruction team and succeeded in passing on their knowledge, innovative concepts and ideas on irregular warfare to those enthusiastic Commando officers and NCOs who attended their short, but intensive, courses.

From early August officers and NCOs from No. 4 started to attend these courses and returned to ‘spread the gospel’; as a result new methods of weapon handling and firing, unarmed combat and close-quarter fighting, fieldcraft and battle procedures and demolitions were gradually introduced to the rest of the Commando. But it didn’t all happen overnight.

In writing the story of the deeds and exploits of the Commandos in the war it would be impossible to exaggerate the importance of the contribution by the instructors of the Special Training Centre at Lochailort; much of the success of the Commandos in action is due to them.

By the end of August a new weapon was issued to the Commando, the famous American Tommy gun. Its arrival caused quite a stir, although once again there were so few that they were held in Commando HQ and only issued for allotted training sessions. This excellent and reliable short-range weapon was ideal for our intended role. Firing a snub-nosed .45 round at the rate of 700 per minute, it had great stopping power. It became a very popular and trustworthy weapon, rarely, almost never, guilty of any stoppages. Although it was supplied with two different magazines, a drum or box type, the box magazine, holding 20 rounds, became the normal one used, chiefly because the spares were easier to pack into the equipment pouches.