The Lost Band of Brothers (18 page)

The proceedings were exceedingly brief and the following conversation took place:

Laversuch: ‘I was informed by the C-in-C South Atlantic that you had agreed in principle to the operations taking place, for which we are grateful.'

Giffard: ‘I have agreed, but I tell you frankly I do not like the scheme, and I shall never like it.'

Laversuch: ‘I am very sorry to hear this, but thank you for having given your consent. There is a question of personnel. Could you assist us on this subject?'

Giffard: ‘No – most definitely – no. The only thing I can offer you is my best wishes for the success of the operation.'

Laversuch: ‘Thank you very much, Sir. Goodnight.'
16

March-Phillipps was also at that brief and unhelpful meeting, though his reaction outside the general's office is not recorded – perhaps it is just as well. Both men hurried back to Lagos, from where Operation
Postmaster
would start. With departure to Fernando Po scheduled for 11 January, time was extremely short. And they still needed seventeen men.

Help, however, was at hand in the form of the Governor of Nigeria, Sir Henry Bourdillon – no friend of General Giffard – who immediately invited Laversuch and March-Phillipps to select seventeen potential volunteers from his own Colonial Service. Civilians all, they selected men from the police, education, public works and administrative branches of the Service, many of whom had previous military service. All of the seventeen men selected, described as ‘the toughest individuals in the public service in Nigeria', were approved by the Governor and each was then sent a telegram by March-Phillipps inviting them simply to take two weeks' authorised holiday and ‘come to a party' at 12 noon on 10 January at 32, Cameron Road, Lagos. Conjecture was rife. Some thought they would be required to trek hundreds of miles through the bush and had been busy breaking in thick-soled walking boots.
17

At Cameron Road they were given a general and non-mission-specific briefing by March-Phillipps about the sort of work that might be involved. He did not mention long treks through the jungle but did invite anyone having second thoughts to step down. No one did. SOE agent Lt Leonard Guise (W10) recalled afterwards:

The situation on 7 and 8 of January was not too good … the question of manpower looked serious. Owing to intense enthusiasm from His Excellency and the Deputy Chief Secretary, Miles Clifford, the entire matter was solved in some twenty-four hours, and at midday on 10 January, as choice a collection of thugs as Nigeria can ever have seen was assembled at 32, Cameron Road.
18

A champagne toast followed, after which each volunteer was kitted out with dark clothing and plimsolls.

Small, inconspicuous groups of volunteers left Cameron Road that evening and made their way to Apapa Wharf in Lagos harbour where the two tugs loaned by the Governor,
Vulcan
and
Nuneaton
, lay quietly moored side by side. Stores were already loaded and the men – some of whom had enjoyed perhaps rather more of Cameron Road's hospitality than was strictly wise – embarked: ‘By midnight the decks of the
Vulcan
vibrated with snores and 560 lbs of the Administrative department were fast asleep on
Nuneaton
's sun deck,' recorded Leonard Guise.
19
At 0530 on 11 January 1942, and with
Vulcan
towing
Nuneaton
, Maid Honor Force with 41 men set sail south-east for Fernando Po. Zero Hour – the assault on
Duchessa d'Aosta
and the tug
Likomba
– was scheduled for 2330, 14 January 1942.

At last, after days of uncertainty, confusion, obstruction, objection and administrative incompetence, Operation
Postmaster
, an act described by one author as ‘flagrant piracy in a neutral harbour'
20
and by one of those involved, SOE's Leonard Guise, as ‘a cut-out operation. In other words, simple theft' had begun:
21

MOST IMMEDIATE. [SOE headquarters to SOE Lagos]: [Sent 10 Jan 1942]

From Brigadier Gubbins to W4 [Laversuch] FOR W01 [March-Phillipps] from M:

GOOD HUNTING. AM CONFIDENT YOU WILL EXERCISE UTMOST CARE TO ENSURE SUCCESS AND OBVIATE REPERCUSSIONS. BEST OF LUCK TO YOU AND ALL MH [Maid Honor] AND OTHERS.
22

Gubbins' ‘am confident you will exercise utmost care' may have smacked a little of their chief whistling nervously in the dark, but it mattered little. For March-Phillipps and Appleyard particularly, actually casting off and heading out into the soft light of an African dawn with the unequivocal prospect of coming to grips with the enemy at journey's end must have come as something of a relief. March-Phillipps replied to Gubbins back in London:

GREATLY APPRECIATE YOUR GOOD WISHES WILL DO OUR BEST
23

  
1
.  
Geoffrey
, 99.

  
2
.  Ibid., 72.

  
3
.  HS 7/244.

  
4
.  
Ian Fleming and SOE's Operation Postmaster
, 109.

  
5
.  HS 3/86.

  
6
.  Ibid.

  
7
.  HS 3/91.

  
8
.  HS 3/86.

  
9
.  
Geoffrey
, 108.

10
.  HS 3/86.

11
.  Ibid.

12
.  Ibid.

13
.  Ibid.

14
.  Ibid.

15
.  Ibid.

16
.  HS 3/92.

17
.  
Secret War Heroes
, Marcus Binney, 132.

18
.  HS 3/91.

19
.  Ibid.

20
.  
Anders Lassen
, 82.

21
.  Ibid, 83.

22
.  ADM 199/395.

23
.  HS 3/87.

Aboard the tug ST
Vulcan
, Capt. March-Phillipps distributed his core unit of men who had come out from England as part of Maid Honor Force. with him, targeting the merchant ship
Duchessa d’Aosta
, were Capt. Appleyard, second-in-command; Anders Lassen; Denis Tottenham; Ernest Evison, the cook; André Desgrange; ‘Haggis’ Taylor, March-Phillipps’ batman; and Leslie Prout. With Lt Graham Hayes would be Tom Winter and ‘Buzz’ Perkins, the baby of the party. Their mission was the seizure and towing out of the smaller German tug
Likomba
. The remaining men aboard both vessels were allocated their place in one of five different teams: cable party, engine-room party, boarding party, back-up boarding party and towing party.

Nuneaton
was towed alongside as far as the bar at the mouth of Lagos harbour and then slipped astern on a long tow. As both vessels crossed the bar, the ebb tide met the swell of the open sea and:

the heavily laden tugs wallowed like pigs. This was most unfortunate for the volunteers, most of whom were not accustomed to small craft, and some of the poor fellows took fully two days to recover from their agony. As for the crew, if any of them had felt bad they would not dare have shown it, for the wrath of Gus would have descended upon them like an avalanche!
1

Leonard Guise (W10) was also aboard. He recalled:

Vulcan
wallowed slowly along with
Nuneaton
dancing along behind like a naughty puppy on the end of a lead … By midday Nuneaton’s crew were
hors de combat
 …
Vulcan
was having her own troubles. The ship’s movement was not so bad but at least 2/3rds of the volunteers were extremely ill.
2

That evening March-Phillipps relented and allowed the crew of
Nuneaton
to board
Vulcan
where the movement was less nauseous. The following day sunshine, easing seas and good food from Evison improved everyone’s spirits. The
Nuneaton
, however, was still being towed. That same morning, whilst the recovering crew were having tommy-gun practice on
Nuneaton
’s sundeck, she suddenly lurched onto her side and threatened to capsize. Still being dragged through the water on the end of her long tow by
Vulcan
and with her bilge keel now plainly visible, stores were jettisoned into the sea and men rushed to the port side and prepared to abandon ship as the Skipper, up to his neck in water in the wheelhouse, fought to keep his ship afloat. As screams of fear came from the flooding engine-room below, Lassen, the only professional seaman amongst the
Maid Honor
crew, leapt to the stern of
Vulcan
, grabbed an axe and, without waiting for orders, severed the tow. No longer being dragged through the water on her side,
Nuneaton
slowly righted herself and the crisis was averted. ‘Undoubtedly,’ recalled Leslie Prout:

Andy’s prompt action saved Graham’s tug from total loss. Graham [Hayes] and Tom [Winter] swam about retrieving their previous provisions and cases of beer, heedless of sharks or barracuda. Eventually, reprovisioned from the large tug, and with her engine again in action, Graham’s vessel got under way and the voyage was resumed.
3

The tow was not reconnected and both ships now proceeded eastwards under their own power.

Each member of the boarding parties was issued with a cosh – a foot-long metal bolt sheathed in rubber. March-Phillipps ordered at one of his briefings: ‘When possible – intimidate. If not, use force. Speed is essential.’ Too right it was. Whilst Bren gunners were instructed to ‘deal with any boats. Shoot across bows. No useless slaughter’,
4
the thought would have occurred to the more perceptive amongst the raiders that, if the operation degenerated into a straight shot and shell fire-fight, then the game would be as good as over. And that it would take more than a few judicious bursts of Bren to cover their escape and withdrawal.

On the Tuesday, weapons were cleaned and all ranks – including the volunteers – practised with tommy guns and Brens as they emptied magazine after magazine into the heaving ocean. Michie’s air photographs of the harbour, the
Duchessa d’Aosta
and the
Likomba
were studied, ships’ plans memorised and explosive charges assembled. March-Phillipps briefed each team on their precise role in the coming attack and, after boarding ledges had been fixed on the bridge deck of
Vulcan
to simplify the swift and silent movement from ship to ship in groups of four, all boarding parties, dressed for action and carrying weapons, practised their response to the call to Action Stations and the strict order of their assault.

They had sailed from Lagos in the early hours of Sunday, 11 January 1943. On Tuesday evening
Nuneaton
stopped and put two Folbots over the side with orders to creep up on
Vulcan
: ‘This was highly successful, the Folbots approaching within a few yards without being seen,’ March-Phillipps reported.
5
Wednesday was spent steaming slowly into position out of sight of land. The plan of attack was minutely adjusted and there was another briefing from March-Phillipps while ‘Explosives were made ready on both ships and a cold lunch was served on
Vulcan
because the galley stove was occupied by an earnest figure boiling and moulding plastic [explosive]. Torches, pistols and Tommy-guns were issued and that afternoon when the island was sighted everything was ready.’
6

It was at this point, as
Vulcan
and
Nuneaton
were moving quietly into their final pre-attack positions, that disaster nearly overtook Operation
Postmaster
. The approach into the mouth of Santa Isabel harbour and the attack on the two vessels themselves were supposed to coincide with the town’s midnight, power-saving blackout which plunged the town and harbour into all-enveloping darkness. But Fernando Po, being Spanish, kept to Spanish time in Madrid – whilst Lagos and March-Phillipps had their watches set to Nigerian time, one hour ahead. Maid Honor Force had arrived early. And the lights were still on.

March-Phillipps’ formal after-action report makes no mention of his own conduct thereafter, or what actually happened next. Leonard Guise, however, was more forthcoming.

At 2200 both vessels lay about 4 miles north of the harbour of Santa Isabel, the town lights still showing clearly. At 2315
Nuneaton
moved ahead and very slowly crept closer to the harbour. Guise reported afterwards:

Some dismay was felt aboard her when an excited and well-known voice came bellowing through the darkness: ‘Will you get a b-b-b-bloody move on or g-g-g-get out. I’m coming in.’ As Zero Hour was 12pm and the whole scheme swung on the extinction of the town lights which it was known would occur at that hour, this demand was resented.
7

He remembered later:

Gus was all teed up and he wanted to go in and there was for one moment a rather sticky little scene when we on
Nuneaton
could hear Gus quite loudly disclaiming that he’d every intention of going in and to hell with it. Gus himself struck me as completely intrepid, almost to the point of overdoing it because … this was not really a military operation. It was a burglar’s operation and burglars don’t go in shooting. But Gus gave the impression that he much preferred to do a job when he did go in shooting.
8

The captain of the
Nuneaton
, Lt Goodman, had heard enough. Taking matters into his own hands he simply swung
Nuneaton
’s bows across
Vulcan
’s path and stopped dead. Leonard Guise recalled: ‘After some furious comments from each ship, common sense prevailed and
Vulcan
sheered off into the darkness to wait.’ Perhaps Louis Franck’s reservations, expressed in London to Colin Gubbins that previous November, held some merit after all.

At midnight local time – 0100 by March-Phillipps’ watch – both ships were about 200 yards outside the rim of harbour lights.
Nuneaton
was ahead with
Vulcan
astern and to starboard. Ashore, in Santa Isabel, and right on cue, the lights went out: ‘What had been a well-illuminated display became utter darkness.’
9