Tales from the Special Forces Club
There are just a handful of men and women alive today who served and fought with the Special Forces during the Second World War. They are a dwindling bunch of veterans in their twilight years whose tales of heroism and daring-do will soon be lost in time forever – yet they still regularly get together in a gentleman’s club, right in the heart of London – The Special Forces Club.In ten separate and astonishing accounts of ingenuity and heroism, the Sunday Telegraph defence correspondent Sean Rayment visits this unique group of people, and through their vivid memories, transports the reader back in time to the dark days of the Second World War when Britain was again fighting on multiple fronts across the globe.These incredibly heroic tales are taken from men such as Captain John Campbell, MC and Bar and the last surviving officer of ‘Popski’s Private Army’, whose triumph over being wrongly labelled a coward led him to serve with distinction and bravery behind Rommel’s lines in North Africa. Balancing the heroism in the field of battle is the story of Noreen Riols, who worked under the legendary Colonel Maurice Buckmaster, helping train operatives in the art of counter-espionage and counter-surveillance, who was used to ‘honey trap’ would-be agents. Then there is Mike Sadler, who served with David Stirling in the LRDG and took part in an SAS attack on a German airfield near el-Alamein in 1942 in which 34 aircraft were destroyed; and Harry Verlander, who served with the legendary Jedburghs, a highly secret element of the Special Operations Executive, and recalls his service during D-Day and subsequent operations in Burma. The book covers all theatres of operations and provides a unique glimpse into why the members of the Special Forces Club are truly exceptional.Time is running out to capture the myriad of epic stories WWII threw up over its five-year period. In their twilight years, the Special Forces Club has decided to reveal its identity at last.
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In memory of all the members of the special forces who sacrificed their lives during the Second World War
1 The Secret Life of Noreen Riols
4 ‘The Best Navigator in the Western Desert’
7 Jungle Warfare behind Enemy Lines
When I joined the Parachute Regiment in 1986 as a young officer I entered a world where the exceptional was commonplace and every soldier, no matter what rank, was always expected to perform to the highest possible standard.
Back then, my battalion, 3 Para, was still basking in the success of the Falklands War and was rightly regarded as one of the best, certainly one of the toughest infantry battalions in the entire British Army. It was an elite organisation, full of men who, just four years earlier, had marched across the demanding terrain of East Falkland and fought the Battle of Mount Longdon with bullet and bayonet.
I was a fresh-faced, inexperienced, 24-year-old lieutenant expected to take command of 27 hardened paratroopers, half of whom had served in the Falklands, where they had taken life and seen life taken.
Life in 3 Para was an unforgiving and at times humourless existence, where only professional excellence mattered and those unfortunate souls who could not deliver the goods fell by the wayside – and many did.
As a young platoon commander I was cut a bit of slack, but not much. While it was accepted that I might make mistakes, I was also expected to learn from them – second chances were a rarity. But with the help and understanding of a good but tough sergeant and excellent soldiers I survived that initial apprenticeship. Anyone who wants to serve in the Parachute Regiment, irrespective of rank, class, colour or creed, must pass the gruelling pre-parachute selection course, and that creates a special bond of mutual respect between the officers and other ranks.
But while we in the Paras rightly regarded ourselves as an elite force, none of us would have referred to ourselves as ‘special forces’. That title was reserved for a very select few, those within the Army who were prepared to take another step and test themselves further.
In the late 1980s the special forces consisted of the Special Air Service, the Special Boat Service, the Force Research Unit, which ran agents in Northern Ireland, and the 14th Intelligence Company, a cover name for specially trained covert operatives who would spy on and monitor some of the most dangerous members of the IRA.
Those who undertook the various selection courses to join one of these special units were either successful and were rarely seen again or would return, having failed to make the grade for some reason or another, perhaps feeling sheepish, but admired by most for having the guts to give it a go.
Although I was obviously aware of the existence of the special forces, it wasn’t until I served in Northern Ireland that I met members of those units in the flesh. In 1989, 3 Para was posted to Palace Barracks in Belfast on a 24-month residential tour. After a brief period training recruits at the Parachute Regiment depot I was posted to Belfast, where I became the second-in-command of B Company, 3 Para. Some weeks later I was offered the job of Close Observation Platoon (COP) commander, a position which was widely regarded as the best job for any young officer in Northern Ireland. COPs were usually composed of soldiers from the reconnaissance platoons of infantry battalions and can perhaps be described as being at the lower end of the covert intelligence-gathering operation in Northern Ireland. The Belfast COP was effectively an autonomous unit which, although housed within Palace Barracks just outside Belfast, was under the control of the Belfast Tasking and Coordination Group, known as TCG, a part of the Royal Ulster Constabulary’s Special Branch. The Belfast TCG consisted of two experienced warrant officers from the SAS and 14 Int, together with a senior Special Branch detective.
That 12-month period also instilled within me a lifelong interest in the special forces and those men and women who have served in their ranks. But after five years’ Army service, during which time I had reached the rank of captain, I decided to resign my commission. Although I enjoyed the Army, I was never a ‘lifer’ and wanted to explore pastures new. In 1991 I embarked on a new career in journalism. By the mid-1990s I was reporting on the Balkans conflict, and I soon began to specialise in war reporting – a role which took me back to Northern Ireland and on to Iraq, Afghanistan, the Gulf, Africa, the Middle East and Guantanamo Bay in Cuba.
Western governments had hoped that the end of the Cold War would deliver an era of global stability, but instead a much more pernicious threat began to emerge with the rise of militant Islam across much of the Middle East, a phenomenon which would ultimately lead to the 9/11 attacks and the concept of ‘asymmetric warfare’.
