SAS: Rogue Heroes by Ben Macintyre (2016)

Courage, like death, seldom appears where it is expected.
(One of Ben Macintyre’s reflections in ‘SAS: Rogue Heroes’, page 178)

This is the official history of the Special Air Service (SAS) during the Second World War, from its inception in July 1941 to its disbandment in October 1945.

Among all the other textual paraphernalia there’s a two-page ‘select’ bibliography which includes no fewer than 25 other books which had already been written about the SAS when this one was published (2016) and I bet more have been published since. So it’s a very popular and well-trodden subject. Indeed, Macintyre writes that as the Second World War reached an end, and the British press discovered the SAS:

The hints of roguish derring-do, combined with a distinct lack of hard detail, created a hunger for SAS stories that has never abated. (p.273)

What distinguishes this book from its competitors is its official status and therefore the access Macintyre was given to a mass of material including: the regimental diary (the SAS War Diary), personal accounts, top secret reports, memos, private diaries, letters, memoirs, maps, never-before-released archival material and hundreds of photos. The result is a 310-page Penguin paperback which is presumably as close to the definitive account as we’re likely to get.

The narrative is surrounded by textual apparatus, including a Foreword by the Right Honourable Viscount Slim, patron of the SAS Association; seven good, clear maps; a list of all the SAS operations during the war; a regimental roll of honour; a chapter giving the post-war careers of the book’s leading figures; numerous photos; the bibliography and an index.

Overshadowing all this is the fact that the book was made into a big-budget BBC drama series, broadcast in 6 episodes at the end of 2022, well reviewed in the press and watched by millions. I bought the book after watching the series, probably like tens if not hundreds of thousands of others. So it’s not only a popular history of then, the Second World War, but very much an artefact of our times, of now.

Part 1. War in the Desert

‘SAS: Rogue Heroes’ is immensely readable, clearly, authoritatively, grippingly written, a perfectly calibrated entertainment. I couldn’t put it down and read it in two highly enjoyable evenings. No wonder it was a Sunday Times bestseller.

You can read the basic facts on the SAS Wikipedia article and countless other web pages. My blog posts are always too long because I summarise everything; this time I’m just going to give the most striking, dramatic or funny elements in note form:

David Stirling

The SAS was founded by Sir Archibald David Stirling who came from a grand, landed Scottish aristocratic family. His family connections helped at key moments drum up support from Scottish grandees high up in the British Army: ‘This was an age when family and class connections counted for much’ (p.23). And:

Stirling was possessed of a profound self-belief, the sort of confidence that comes from high birth and boundless opportunity. (p.10)

Apparently, the decisive moment in Stirling’s life was when he was rejected from a Paris art school for being no good. He became determined to prove himself some other way (pages 9 and 91).

Stirling prided himself on being a renegade, a rebel against traditional army discipline and authority, an opinion vouchsafed by everyone who knew him plus all subsequent biographers. After completing officer training his report summarised him as ‘irresponsible and unremarkable.’

In return he powerfully disliked army discipline and hierarchy, calling military bureaucracy ‘a freemasonry of mediocrity’ and ‘layer upon layer of fossilised shit’ (p.22).

Surprisingly (or maybe not) everyone who worked with him said he was quietly spoken, respectful of his men, got to know them all, rarely raised his voice or lost his temper. He presented comrades in the group with challenges or missions and somehow made them feel like it was their duty to do it.

He was also very against boasting and swank which he described as being ‘pomposo’ (p.126).

Alternative tactics

Traditionalists still thought of wars in terms of huge armies clashing across defined fronts. Stirling conceived of a small agile force working behind enemy lines to sabotage enemy resources.

This was war on the hoof, invented ad hoc, unpredictable, highly effective and often chaotic. (p.172)

This ended up working dramatically well in the North African desert where civilisation amounts to a thin strip along the roads by the coast, inland from which stretch truly vast areas of desert, many of which were unexplored and unmapped in the 1940s.

I was staggered to learn that the Libyan desert covers half a million square miles, nearly half the area as India (1.269 miles²) (p.58).

Stirling badly damaged his back on his first parachute jump, losing consciousness and, when he awoke, unable to walk. Doctors thought he’d be crippled for life. Slowly feeling returned but later he suffered from blinding migraines.

Operation Squatter

Notoriously, the first SAS ‘mission’, Operation Squatter, on 16 November 1941, was a catastrophic blunder. The aim was to parachute at night behind German lines in the Libyan desert, infiltrate five enemy airfields on foot, plants explosives on as many German and Italian airplanes as possible, then head south to a rendezvous with the jeeps of the Long Range Desert Group (LRDG) deep in the desert.

But a fierce storm blew up just as the planes were due to depart. At that point, and then again when they were over the drop zone and due to jump, Stirling was warned to abort, but he took the pig-headed decision to proceed. 1) One of the aircraft carrying the SAS men was shot down – all 15 soldiers and the crew were killed. 2) The pilots were flying absolutely blind in a howling desert storm, had no idea where they were and told the soldiers to jump blind. 3) Some members of the remaining four teams were killed when they landed badly or were dragged across rocky, thorn-bush-full landscape by their chutes. Half a dozen were so badly injured they were left with pistols and told to fend for themselves. At least one shot himself there and then. Three of the teams couldn’t find the packs of ammunition, food and explosives that were dropped with them so were rendered useless. One by one they stumbled south to the rendezvous point. The mission failed to destroy a single enemy aircraft and of the 65 SAS men who set off only 21 made it back (p.55).

It was such a traumatic incident that Macintyre covers it twice, once in the brief prologue to the entire book, designed to drum up excitement (pages 1 and 2), then in an entire chapter (chapter 4, pages 47 to 56) which makes very grim reading.

Amazing that the powers that be let Stirling continue with his experiment. After this fiasco the only way was up.

Paddy Mayne

Top international rugby player. Notorious drunk with a terrible temper. Only close friend he had was Eoin MacGonigal with whom he forged a close, possibly homoerotic, bond, but who was killed during Operation Squatter. Mayne was never the same. Six months later Mayne took leave to go look for MacGonigal’s grave in the desert (p.116). Mayne was a core member of the early group but he and Stirling were never close.

Mayne seemed to take pleasure in slaughter: ‘Fighting was in his blood: he thrived on it.’ (p.115)

The attack on Tamet airfield, designed to knock out Axis planes, but when Paddy heard sounds of merriment from the pilots hut he and two others kicked the door open and opened up with machine guns massacring all the Germans and Italians within. Just one of many such incidents.

Jock Lewes

The exact opposite of Mayne, John Steele ‘Jock’ Lewes was a strict disciplined Englishman. Macintyre says he toured Nazi Germany in the late 1930s and even fell in love with a German woman, but when she introduced him to hard core fascists the scales fell from his eyes and he behave ever afterwards like a man angry at having been fooled.

Lewes was a key player in the formation of the unit with whom Stirling developed the idea of a special force which could be parachuted behind enemy lines and after seeing action in the defence of Tobruk, he joined the unit as Stirling’s second in command.

He was involved in the design of the unit’s badge and motto and was an inveterate tinker, designing the ‘Lewes bomb’ which could be attached to enemy planes or vehicles with an inbuilt timer. To cite his Wikipedia page:

To destroy Axis vehicles, members of the SAS surreptitiously attached small explosive charges. Lewes noticed the respective weaknesses of conventional blast and incendiaries, as well as their failure to destroy vehicles in some cases. He improvised a new, combined charge out of plastic explosive, diesel and thermite. The Lewes bomb was used throughout the Second World War.

He was killed by enemy airplane fire after leading an attack on Nofilia aerodrome, on 30 December 1941 aged 28 (p.79). Stirling later stated that Lewes had a better right to be the founder of the SAS than he did. Lewes’s death in the TV series is very upsetting and feels like the end of an era. It’s only by reading this book that you realise the entire North Africa era was just the first part of a much, much longer story.

Amateurishness

Throughout the book there’s a tension between the initial amateurishness of the group Stirling assembled and its home-made training regimes (for example, his bonkers idea that jumping out the back of a jeep travelling at 30 miles per hour was good training for making a parachute jump) and the tremendous commitment of everyone in the group to their leader and their methods.

Unlike most officers, who thought in linear terms, and care about promotion, medals and the steady progression of the battlefront, Stirling approached warfare sideways and from an amateur perspective. (p.99)

Fitzroy Maclean

Also from a grand family, Fitzroy Hew Royle Maclean, 1st Baronet, (1911 to 1996), unlike Stirling, was a scholar and an intellectual (p.83). When war broke out he transferred to the army from a successful career in the diplomatic service. He was with the SAS for about a year, in 1942, taking part in numerous raids, including the farcical attack on Benghazi. Later that year he was transferred to the Middle East as part of the Persia and Iraq Command before, in 1943, Churchill chose him to lead a liaison mission to Tito’s partisans in Yugoslavia in 1943. After the war he served as a Conservative MP and recorded his extraordinary career in the classic book ‘Eastern Approaches’. Maclean is routinely cited as a possible inspiration for Ian Fleming’s creation of the character of James Bond. He is quoted delivering a classic English attitude to foreigners (uncharacteristically philistine for a man fluent in numerous languages):

‘I have always found that in dealing with foreigners whose language one does not speak, it is best to shout.’ (p.105)

The motto

He describes the debate about designing a badge for the unit and choosing a motto. ‘Who dares wins’ motto beat alternative suggestions ‘Strike and destroy’ (too blunt) and ‘Ascend to descend’ (obscure) (p.85).

The French

Surprisingly ‘French troops would play a vital role in the evolution of the SAS’ (p.87). This remark is à propos the arrival of 52 Free French paratroopers under the command of Colonel Georges Bergé and it is, indeed, surprising to learn the extent to which Free French troops were involved in SAS operations.

The farcical raid on Benghazi

Featuring Maclean and Randolph Churchill. Chapter 9, pages 97 to 110, a) from a base in the Jebel mountain range and b) using the ‘Blitz Buggy’. This was a Ford V8 station wagon with a top speed of 70 mph containing two rows of 3 seats, with the roof and windows removed and painted Wehrmacht grey. (p.94).

On the evening of 21 May 1942 the Blitz Buggy, containing Stirling, Maclean, Randolph Churchill (Winston’s son) and three others bluffed their way past German then Italian guards and into Benghazi where they hid out in a ruined house while planning to row dinghies out to ships in the harbour and attach limpet mines. Everything went wrong starting with the fact that the drive across the desert and up and down gullies etc damaged the rods or something in the buggy which led to it making a howling racket wherever it went. Their night-time attempt to blow up the ships is fouled by heavy guards and the fact that the two inflatable dinghies they brought along both have punctures (and the pumping equipment makes an incredibly loud racket). They nearly get caught umpteen times and are forced to hole up in the ruined flat all day, twitching with nerves as enemy patrols pass by neighbours interfere and, at one point, a drunken Italian blunders in, only to run off at the sight of filthy bearded men with guns. Eventually they drive back out of town in the racketing Blitz Buggy after a very intense 24 hours. The whole thing is like a comic movie and makes for a tense but hilarious scene in the TV series.

In fact Randolph Churchill wrote a highly dramatic ten-page account of the day to his father, Winston, precisely the kind of buccaneering adventure designed to appeal to the wartime PM, and which helped bolster his support for Stirling and the SAS (p.110).

Car crash

It’s typical of Stirling, who really was reckless, not just in military sense, that the four days later, safely back behind British lines, Stirling was driving the Blitz Buggy far too fast, took a corner at speed and, to avoid an oncoming lorry, swerved and ended up rolling the vehicle resulting in: the death of Arthur Merton the distinguished war correspondent; Maclean suffering a broken arm, collarbone and fractured skull; Randolph Churchill receiving three crushed vertebrae; and Sergeant Rose having his arm broken in three places. Maclean quipped that:

‘David Stirling’s driving was the most dangerous thing in World War Two.’ (p.109)

I know he’s a great hero and everything, but quite regularly Stirling comes over as a reckless idiot, the death toll in Operation Squatter and incidents like this providing a powerful indictment.

Captain George Jellicoe

George Patrick John Rushworth Jellicoe, 2nd Earl Jellicoe (1918 to 2007) sailed out to the Middle East with Layforce, met Stirling in the bar at Shepheard’s hotel in April 1942, and signed up for the SAS (p.120). He joined the raiding party of 13 June 1942 which attacked fortifications at Heraklion on Crete. It was led by Colonel Georges Bergé. Disguised as Cretan peasants they cut through the perimeter barbed wire surrounding Heraklion airfield and planted bombs on the fleet of parked Junkers 88 bombers. As they started exploding, the team escaped back to the perimeter fence in the confusion.

Bergé paused after half an hour and announced that they would all be awarded the Croix de Guerre for the night’s work. He then led the party south. Or rather north, because in the excitement he had been reading the map upside down. (p.121)

We get a lot of detail about Jellicoe’s time with the SAS but the most memorable remark is his comic comment on the Free French:

‘They were very, very free; and very, very French.’ (p.124)

An independent force

By June 1942 what had started as L Detachment had raided all the important German and Italian airfields within 300 miles of the forward area. It had long ago dropped the idea of parachuting behind enemy lines and instead had worked closely with the Long Range Desert Group which, basically, drove them to within walking distance of targets, dropped them off, then hung around for a day or two to pick up the returning survivors of each attack.

But during this period it had itself got to know and understand all kinds of desert terrain and benefited from the inspired navigating skills of Mike Sadler.

With its own transport base and navigators, and the ability to attack at will from a forward base, L Detachment was fast becoming what Stirling had always intended it to be: a small, independent army, capable of fighting a different sort of war. (p.132)

Stirling discovers from intercepted messages that the Germans are calling him ‘the Phantom Major’ (p.138).

Sidi Haneish

The extraordinary story of the massed jeep attack on Sidi Haneish airfield. Eighteen jeeps drove 50 miles across the desert from their hideout in Bir el Quseir and then overran the airfield, driving along the main runway in two columns, each jeep armed with Vickers K machine guns, incredibly powerful weapons originally designed for RAF aircraft, causing incredible destruction (pages 139 to 142).

Dinner with Winston Churchill

On pages 153 to 156 Macintyre describes Stirling, back in Cairo, washed and scrubbed and attending dinner with Winston Churchill, with Field Marshall Jan Smuts and General Alexander, C-in-C of the African front. Churchill was, predictably, bowled over by Stirling’s enthusiasm and asked him to write a memo laying out aims of the SAS, a document which still survives.

Stirling asked the three eminent leaders, Churchill, Smuts and Alexander, to sign a piece of paper as a souvenir. Later, with typical chutzpah he typed above it ‘Please give the bearer of this note every possible assistance’ and use it shamelessly to cajole quartermasters into supplying immense amounts of new equipment (p.156).

Expansion

In September 1942 the SAS was recognised in the official British Order of Battle. It was expanded to include 29 officers and 572 other ranks. It was divided into four squadrons, one under Stirling, one under Paddy Mayne, one devoted to the French forces, and a newly commissioned Special Boat Service put under George Jellico (p.167).

At the age of 26 Stirling had become the first man to create his own new regiment since the Boer War. (p.167)

At the end of 1942 a second SAS regiment came into being, commanded by Stirling’s brother, Bill (p.179).

Battle of El Alamein November 1942

The final actions of the SAS in North Africa took place within the much larger event of the (second) Battle of El Alamein, October to 1942. The Germans had advanced inside the borders of British Egypt, and to within forty miles of Alexandria. Not only Egypt was at stake but the country contained the Suez Canal which was the lifeline to the entire British presence in the Far East, as well as controlling access to the oil fields of Persia, also vital for the Allied war effort.

Over two months the new commander of British Forces Lieutenant-General Bernard Montgomery led the Eighth Army to a victory which was the beginning of the end of the Western Desert Campaign. Victory eliminated the Axis threat to Egypt, the Suez Canal and the Middle Eastern and Persian oil fields. It revived the morale of the Allies, and coincided with the Allied invasion of French North Africa far to the West, thus trapping Rommel’s Afrika Corps in a classic pincer movement.

Stirling is captured

Stirling was desperate to make a contribution to this vast effort. On 16 January a force of 14 men in five jeeps set off from their base in the Tunisian desert aiming to link up with the fast-moving First Army near the coast. The Germans had, of course, for some time been aware of a roving force of saboteurs operating behind their lines and Rommel had ordered sweeps and searches to be made of desert areas close to his main forces. And so it was that, at a rest stop in a ravine en route to the coast, Stirling and his force were surrounded and arrested by a much larger German force. (In fact three of the group managed to escape in the initial confusion and trekked west through the desert to meet up, more dead than alive, with American forces advancing from the West, which I mentioned above.)

But for Stirling the war was over. He was sent to bases in Africa, then Italy, interrogated at all of them. He made some notable escapes but always managed to be recaptured until he was eventually sent to the impregnable fortress of Colditz near Leipzig in East Germany.

Because his capture happened at more or less that same time that the Desert War came to an end (with Allied victory) it coincided in a significant change in the personnel and purpose of the SAS. Macintyre has an elegiac page remembering the members who died during the desert campaign, before turning to the fact that the regiment was now to have a new leader, the dedicated stone-cold killer Paddy Mayne, and was now to operate entirely in occupied Europe.

Part 2. War in Europe

As I mentioned, I bought the book after watching the hugely enjoyable BBC TV series. which, I now realise, only dramatised part one of the book, the Desert War section, pages 1 to 189. It turns out that pages 193 to 310 describe the completely different environment the unit faced fighting in Europe, first up through Italy, then playing their part in the D-Day landings and the push across France, then fighting in Germany itself. All this leads up to the surprising fact that it was SAS men, some of whom we met way back in the early part of the desert campaign, who were the first to enter the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in April 1945 which tends to cast a grim nihilistic shadow over everything which preceded it.

As I mentioned, the thing about the army, especially in wartime, is that it continually chops and changes and rearranges its units to suit changing needs. Thus, at the end of the desert war, in 1943, 1SAS was split into two parts, a Special Boat Squadron (SBS) under Jellico and a Special Raiding Squadron under Mayne. 2SAS continued in existence under the command of Stirling’s brother, Bill. I imagine for an author like Macintyre the main challenge is which activities of which unit to include.

Sicily

July 1943 Mayne’s SRS was tasked with knocking out defences on beaches on Sicily, ahead of the main allied invasion. In the event:

The Italians surrendered with indecent haste. ‘They gave up very easily,’ said [Johnny] Wiseman. (p.197)

During the assault they had had to paddle their dinghies past Allied paratroopers who were intended to land behind enemy lines but whose gliders got blown off course, crashed in the sea, and now they were drowning. Hard man Reg Seekings describes how they had to paddle straight past them, as stopping to pick them up would wreck their own mission, upon which lives depended.

Seeking emerges, in the second half of the book, as a barely controlled psychopath and hard man. He becomes the Spirit of Killing.

Seekings stormed the machine gun post, hurled in a grenade and then killed the occupants with a revolver as they staggered out, one after the other. ‘I enjoyed the killing. I was scared but I would have gone into action every day if I could.’ (p.197, and cf the massacre on page 293)

If war with Russia comes, then we will want lots of Reg Seekings.

Italy

The assault on Bagnara, a port on the Italian mainland. Then they’re tasked with taking Termoli on the opposite, northern coast of Italy. The Germans were pulling out when an SRS force of 207 men landed and seized the town. The German C-in-C, Field Marshall Kesselring was furious and ordered a counter-attack. Enemy spotters guided artillery fire into the town. There was a direct hit on a lorry loading up with 17 men and bags of grenades. After a huge explosion, not a single body was left intact, with heads and legs and other body parts strewn around the street. Seekings had just walked away from the lorry, Wiseman had just jumped down from the cab, and so both survived but were badly traumatised. An Italian family had been at a doorway watching. the mother and father were both killed instantly but then Seekings saw the little boy running round screaming with a his intestines hanging out of a bad stomach wound, so Seekings grabbed him and shot him dead on the spot. Yes, we want the Reg Seekings on our side.

Hitler’s commando order

On 18 October 1942 the German High Command had issued the ‘Commando Order’ which stated that any Allied soldiers captured in Europe and Africa should be summarily executed without trial, even if in proper uniforms or if they attempted to surrender. Any commandos or similar unit not in proper uniforms should be executed on the spot (p.208).

Three points:

1) This meant men in units like the SAS fought harder to avoid falling into enemy hands, and then made every effort to escape (and Macintyre describes some mind boggling escapes). Many others were caught and executed according to the Order (the execution of Sergeant Bill Foster and Corporal James Shortall, page 210).

2) It indicated a general darkening of the war. In the desert the unit had felt like it was having tally-ho adventures, a freewheeling band of buccaneers. In Europe the fighting got a lot dirtier, darker and more sadistic (p.205).

3) This last relates to the way the SAS found itself being used more and more as a commando i.e. an extension of the proper army, going ahead to defuse enemy defences, and not the band of pirates Stirling conceived of, operating for long stretches behind enemy lines to distract and demoralise the enemy. The tension between the two roles waxed and waned over the next two years (pages 201, 209).

An estimated 250 Allied servicemen, including downed airmen, perished under Hitler’s Commando Order. (p.311)

France (pages 212 to 274)

D-Day was 6 June 1944. The SAS had grown. 1SAS and 2SAS, combined with two French SAS regiments, a Belgian contingent and a signals squadron brought the total of the SAS Brigade to 2,500, commanded by a new, regular brigadier.

When Bill Stirling learned that a lot of these SAS forces were to be parachuted in ahead of the landings to act as shock troops ahead of the main attack he was furious; this was the climax of ‘ordinary’ military thinking and completely against the spirit of the SAS, so he resigned, an act which ‘signalled the end of the Stirling brothers’ leadership of the SAS’ (p.215).

The maquis

The following chapters depict the many adventures of the many different units of the SAS parachuted in to work with, lead and train, the French Resistance, or maquis as it was more commonly referred to.

Main learnings:

1) The maquis contained a surprising number of fighters from other nations, above all Russians, prisoners of the Germans who had somehow escaped and headed west.

2) There was a continual risk of treachery and betrayal; quite a few SAS-led hideaways in forests and mountains were betrayed to the Germans, who surrounded, captured and then, as per the Commando Order, executed everyone.

3) Some of this was because the maquis was riddled with internal politics, in fact the maquis was the continuation by other means of normal French politics and that politics was riddled with extremist factions who hated each other, notably the die-hard communists at one end of the spectrum and right-wing Catholic nationalists at the other. These were the dire political and social divisions which undermined the French republic throughout the 1930s, weakened France’s resistance to the initial German invasion, and would return to dog French politics even after the war. As Reg Seekings put it, the maquis were:

‘really political parties who had run away into the woods.’ (p.228)

And as Macintyre comments:

By 1944, the conflict in rural France had taken on many of the aspects of a civil war, with all the treachery and cruelty which that entails. (p.229)

4) Lack of proper military training or discipline often hampered the maquis’ usefulness.

The French resisters were fickle allies, riven by internecine disputes that often turned deadly. ‘The blood feud between the maquis was terrible,’ wrote [Johnny] Cooper. Fraser McLuskey considered even the most competent French fighters to be liabilities: ‘Co-operation with them in military operations is in most cases inadvisable and in many cases highly dangerous.’ Spies, real and imagined, were everywhere, and as the German occupation was rolled back the score-settling intensified. (p.240)

The book includes eye witness descriptions from our boys of watching the resistance hold quick kangaroo courts and then execute civilians accused of ‘collaboration’, often on no evidence apart from gossip and malice. For all these reasons the straight-down-the-line British SAS often found them difficult allies to work with. See my review of:

There was another aspect to all the SAS operations in occupied France which was German reprisals; almost every SAS-led attack on rail lines or fuel dumps or tank camps was met a few days later by the Germans’ wholesale slaughtering of entire nearby villages, farmsteads and so on, for example the rape, murder and burning the Germans inflicted on the village of Vermot (p.236).

The parachute padre

1SAS received its first chaplain, the Reverend Fraser McLuskey, who came to be known as ‘the parachute padre’ (p.230). This figure slowly grows in importance, getting to know the men, listening in private to their fears and concerns, holding (quite) services in their forest or mountain hideouts, helping improve morale and cement bonds.

Paris

Head of the SAS Paddy Mayne and seasoned navigator Mike Sadler arrived in liberated Paris on 25 August 1944.

It’s a recurring theme of this period that SAS groups entering towns were surrounded by deliriously happy civilians and especially young women throwing flowers and kisses but that, occasionally, enemy snipers or forces had remained behind, opened up firing, and then all these civilians got in the way of effective armed response.

SAS killings

Macintyre makes much of the illegality and immorality of the Hitler Commando order and yet, as the France chapters proceed, the objective reader notices quite a few times when SAS men have gone on the record, either in writings or interviews, as shooting dead surrendering opponents, for example this, from Roy Farran. During the Battle for Crete of 1941, his squadron encountered a group of surrendering soldiers:

‘Five parachutists came out of the olive trees with their hands up. I was not in any mood to be taken in by German tricks. I ordered the gunner to fire.’ (p.253)

Operations were now so continual that Macintyre includes a diary of Farran’s: 4 September destroyed two staff cars and a ten-ton troop carrier; 5 September ambushed a motorcycle convoy killing 6; 6 September surrounded by girls with flowers so not able to properly engage a German staff car making a getaway; 7 September attacked by 600 German troops, counter-attacked killing the German colonel and second in command – every day like that, for months.

SAS headquarters were moved to Hylands House near Chelmsford in Essex.

The Vosges

the campaign in the Vosges mountains led by Captain Henry Carey Druce of 2SAS, who went by the nom de guerre of ‘Colonel Maximum’. There’s no point detailing their actions which are too long and complicated, but they, like almost everything in the book, read like scenes from the most action-packed war movies.

North Italy

Back to Italy and a detailed account of Operation Tombola to shoot up German headquarters in the town of Albinea.

Into Germany

SAS forces followed the main Allied advance into Germany. the key learning here is that, in the desert and in France the Germans had been operating in neutral or opposition territory where the SAS or resistance could move freely to the indifference or active support of the native populations, could find good hideouts and strike at will.

When they entered Germany the tables were turned. Now the entire civilian population was against them, now the Germans were on home soil, now it was the Allies who drove along the main roads in large convoys and were vulnerable to sudden ambushes by small, mobile enemy units. Plus, of course, the fanaticism of the real die-hard Nazis.

The SS seemed ‘happy to die’ and the SAS often seemed happy to oblige them. (p.289)

The other thing was the child soldiers. In its dying months Hitler’s regime press-ganged tens of thousands of boys under 18 into uniform and forced to fight. You might think these children, some only 14 or 13, pitiable victims, but the accounts here show that many of them were as much if not more fanatical than their often demoralised elders (p.292). Macintyre gives accounts of children shooting not just machine guns but Panzerfaust single-shot man-portable anti-tank weapons at them. And the SAS responding in kind. An anonymous SAS soldier is quoted as saying:

‘If you shot one little bastard the others would all start crying.’ (p.292)

Big question: Did the Nazis pioneer the use of indoctrinated child soldiers (which I have recently been reading about in Africa, Sierra Leone and Uganda)? Did Germans invent the phenomenon?

Operation Howard

Worth mentioning this incident, on 10 April 1945, near the village of Börger, where a unit of SAS driving in jeeps came under fierce attack from a wood and where Paddy Mayne – still alive and still leading from the front – displayed unbelievable courage in leading the attack on the ambushers (pages 296 to 300). By this stage in the narrative Mayne has emerged as a beyond larger-than-life figure, as a force of nature, a whirlwind of cold-eyed death and destruction wrought on the enemy. He was nominated for the Victoria Cross (VC) but in the end received another bar to his Distinguished Service Order.

Macintyre contrasts Mayne’s action with that of a Dane, Major Anders Lassen, who in April 1944 led an SAS action against the Greek island of Santorini and was the only non-Commonwealth soldier in the Second World War to be awarded a VC.

Bergen-Belsen

The war narrative climaxes with the SAS unit which came across Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in April 1945, described in chapter 23, pages 303 to 306. It seems like something from a movie that among the unit which discovered it were individuals we’ve come to know very well throughout their previous operations and escapades, including Johnny Cooper, the Reverend Fraser McLuskey, the hard case Reg Seekings, and officer in charge Major John Tonkin. Amazing that they all survived this long.

Among the horror and evil of the Nazi death camp, the most telling moment is when the SAS officer in charge, Tonkin, ordered the camp guards and officer not to be shot on the spot. God knows they’d killed enough Germans in the preceding years. Instead:

Calmly and quietly, Tonkin chose to demonstrate what civilisation meant. (p.305)

Eight months later the commandant and warden of women prisoners were tried, convicted and hanged in Hamelin prison. He doesn’t mention what happened to the guards.

Colditz

On the same day that Belsen was liberated, so was Colditz Castle where Stirling had spent two long years as a prisoner of war. Two days earlier the camp commandant had received orders to ship the entire population of POWS East. Suspecting they would be used as bargaining chips or simply murdered, the senior British officer refused. Stirling was back in England by 17 April. Next day he broke out of the psychiatric evaluation camp where he was being held, headed for London, hit a nightclub and by 2 in the morning was having his ‘first roger for years’ (p.308).

But fighting continued up to the final German surrender on 8 May 1945. On 1 October the combined SAS forces paraded for the last time at Hyland House and were then officially disbanded.

War Crimes Investigation Team

There’s an odd coda which is that after the fighting ended, the head of 2SAS Brian Franks, sent Major Eric ‘Bill’ Barkworth to find the burial places of all SAS men listed as lost during the war and to track down all the German officers responsible for their murders as a result of the Commando Order. Macintyre calls it the last operation of the wartime SAS and describes it, along with the trials and punishments it led to, in fascinating detail pages 311 to 315.

The SAS idea spreads

Initially, after the dropping of the atom bombs on Japan, the Army chief of staff thought we were entering an entirely new era of warfare and so disbanded the SAS. However, just two years later they realised that a host of small conflicts had sprung up around the world, not least in Britain’s efforts to hang onto its empire, and so the SAS was re-established in January 1947.

Not only that but the idea of a small armed force of soldiers trained in survival behind the lines and sabotage spread to Allie countries and was replicated in Canada, New Zealand, Australia, and, after some delay, in America, taking the form of what became known as Delta Force. Right at the end of this splendid book Macintyre give a quick summary of the unit’s rationale:

In tactics and intentions, American and British special forces still follow the principles pioneered by the SAS in the desert more than seventy years ago: attacking the most valuable strategic targets without warning and then melting way again, forcing the enemy to remain on constant, debilitating alert. (p.317)

Afterlives

This wonderfully researched, brilliantly written, absolutely riveting book comes to a logical conclusion with six pages on the post-war lives and careers of the main characters we’ve got to know well during the main narrative, including David Stirling, the man who really emerges as the embodiment of SAS values Paddy Mayne, and others such as Roy Farran, Mike Sadler, Jim Almond, Reg Seekings and Johnny Cooper, the reverend Fraser McLuskey, John Tonkin and Bill Fraser. Not all these lives had happy endings, a kind of muted indication of the long-term psychological damage caused by the terrible scenes they’d witnessed and sometimes dreadful things they’d done.

I liked it that Reg Seekings for many years ran a pub in Cambridgeshire. There’s one landlord you wouldn’t want to have an argument with about chucking out time.

Many of them, like Reg and Stirling, went on to serve or lead forces in various parts of the British Empire, against communists, insurgents and nationalist forces, but that is another, and morally far more complicated story.

Within the context of this book and this war these men really were amazing heroes, models of unbelievable bravery and daring. And this book is an outstanding tribute to them.

Unexpected comedy

Macintyre has some nice comic timing and phrasing. Stories which made me laugh include the Churchill faked request form, plus:

1) When Dr Malcolm Pleydell was assigned as medical officer to the group, he expected to find a bunch of cold-eyed killers. Instead Stirling showed him round the camp like the host of a village garden party, explaining that the distant bangs were because some of the group were about to go out ‘on a party’ i.e. attacks on coastal defences, and were just practicing the explosives.

Pleydell had been expecting a man of blood and steel, a ruthless trained killer; instead he was made to feel as if he had just joined a particularly jolly beachfront house party, with bombs. (p.113)

2) Of the storming of Italian defences on Sicily, Macintyre writes:

A Cambridge graduate and former spectacles salesman, [Johnny] Wideman lost his false teeth but won a Military Cross that day. (p.197)

3) A lot later, in August 1944 in occupied France, Henry Druce was leading a group of SAS hooked up with a large party of French Resistance (which in fact included renegade Russian soldiers). The Resistance was generally referred to as the maquis, referencing the tough scrubland found in the south of France which made for good hiding places. The problem with the maquis was their lack of discipline, their poor training, and their fierce internal squabbles. Anyway, they light flares for an RAF drop of ammunition and food but, with typical indiscipline, members of the maquis rip the canisters of supplies open before Druce and the Brits can gather and guard them. Some of the French, starved from long months in hiding, ripped open the provisions in the canisters and started gorging themselves.

‘One Frenchman died of over-eating,’ Druce recorded. Another of the maquis extracted what he took to be a hunk of soft cheese from one of the containers and devoured it only to discover that it was plastic explosive, which contains arsenic. He then ‘died noisily’. (p.265)

4) At the end of 1944, operating in north Italy, SAS forces are joined by Captain Bob Walker-Brown, the son of a Scottish surgeon who had joined the SAS after tunnelling out of an Italian POW camp, crawling through the main sewer then walking to Allied lines.

He had an enormous moustache, a bluff sense of humour, an upper-class accent so fruity that the men barely understood his commands, and a habit of saying ‘what what’ after every sentence, thus earning himself the nickname ‘Captain What What’. (p.279)

So there is, throughout the book, a thread of very English humour, Macintyre entering into the spirit of self-deprecating humour and understatement evinced by so many of these soldiers, both at the time and in later memoirs and interviews.

A non-British account?

Once the SAS started working alongside the Americans, after D-Day, I began to wonder what the Yanks made of the determinedly upper-class, stiff-upper-lip, committed but often ramshackle and amateurish shenanigans of the Brits described in this book.

Most of the books about the SAS and its leading figures are written by Brits who share their private school and Oxbridge background (Macintyre attended a private school, then Cambridge) and so buy into their values, assumptions and banter – so they tend to be eulogies which draw you into that world.

I wonder if an account exists written by a complete outsider, say an American, which doesn’t buy into the self-reinforcing mythology surrounding this group, and gives a more objective and possibly critical account of their actual military achievement?


Credit

SAS: Rogue Heroes by Ben Macintyre was published by Viking in 2016. References are to the 2022 TV tie-in Penguin paperback edition.

Related reviews

Bert Hardy: Photojournalism in War and Peace @ the Photographers’ Gallery

‘Everywhere I look, and most of the time I look, I see photographs.’
(Bert Hardy)

This is a lovely overview of the entire career of acclaimed English photographer Bert Hardy (1913 to 1995), responsible for some of the most iconic shots of British life in the mid-twentieth century.

The Gorbals Boys 1948. Photo by Bert Hardy/Picture Post/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

The exhibition includes:

  • 87 black-and-white prints
  • two photos enlarged and pasted on the walls
  • two display cases showing Hardy memorabilia such as front covers of Picture Post, letters and negatives, press passes and diaries, even his passport (!)
  • and, off to one side, a darkened room showing a slideshow of his colour photos

There’s even a case displaying one of his cameras. All this stuff is loaned from the Bert Hardy archive, now held by Cardiff University, making what is probably as major a retrospective as we can expect for some time.

Blackpool Railings, 1951. Photo by Bert Hardy/Picture Post/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

All the photos are brilliant. Hardy was a photographer of genius. Born into a working-class family in the shabby area around Elephant and Castle, Hardy was self-taught and, once he’d gotten his big break during the war – getting a gig to photograph conditions in London’s bomb shelters – he went on to have a very varied career indeed.

He was lucky enough to break into the profession as it was experiencing the peak of photojournalism. During the 1930s there’d been a revolution in photojournalism and press reporting. This was precipitated by the advent of new, high quality lightweight cameras such as the 35mm Leica, but also the popularity of new, often left-wing editorial perspectives, themselves driven by wide cultural awareness of the miserable poverty caused by the Great Depression at the start of the 30s. Thus the late 30s saw the heyday of ground-breaking photo-journals such as Life in the USA (founded 1936) and Picture Post in Britain (founded 1938).

Photo by Bert Hardy/Picture Post/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Magazines like this pioneered the use of photography-led journalism, extended pictorial essays about society during the politically fraught and feverish 30s. Lead editor at Picture Post was Tom Hopkinson and it was Tom who gave Bert his big break.

Bert had left school at 14 (1927) and got a job as a lab assistant at the Central Photo Service where he slowly familiarised himself with all the technical aspects of the trade. He practiced by taking photos of friends and his extended family (he was the eldest of seven sibling). His first commercial work was when he took a photo of the ancient King George V riding in an open top carriage along Blackfriars Road in 1935, turned it into a postcard and sold 200 copies around his neighbourhood.

In 1936 he was given a job as photographer at the General Photographic Agency and began to get work published in the Daily Mirror, Daily Sketch and the photo magazine, Weekly Illustrated. In 1941 he applied for a job with the Picture Post and the editor, Tom Hopkinson, set him a challenge – to take photos of Londoners in the air raid shelters where, notoriously, no lights were allowed, obviously creating difficult conditions for someone using a 1930s camera.

In the event, Hardy’s photos were vivid, well-composed and atmospheric and Hopkinson gave him a staff job on Picture Post where he was to remain for the next sixteen years (until the magazine closed in 1957). So this story explains why one of the first sections of the exhibition is devoted to images from the war.

Life of an East End Parson, 1940. Photo by Bert Hardy//Picture Post/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

In 1942 he was recruited into the Army Film and Photographic Unit (AFPU) with the rank of sergeant. Three days after D-Day he joined the troops in Normandy and went on to document the Liberation of Paris (August 1944), the invasion of Germany (November 1944), the crossing of the Rhine (March 1945) and arrived at Bergen-Belsen concentration camp a few days after it was liberated by British troops (April 1945). (I wonder if he met the SAS soldiers who were the first to discover Belsen, as detailed in Ben Macintyre’s book ‘SAS: Rogue Heroes’). He was then sent with the AFPU to Singapore in the Far East, where he became Lord Mountbatten’s personal photographer – there are some striking photos of the devilishly handsome Earl – and where he remained until September 1946.

He went on to cover Cold War conflicts in Greece and Korea (where his shots of the amphibious landings at Inchon in 1950 won awards) and then post-colonial conflicts in Malaya, Kenya, Yemen and Cyprus. The Inchon photos on display here are thrilling, conveying a real sense of the danger and contingency.

Assault Craft, 1950. Photo by Bert Hardy/Picture Post/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

As to the other conflicts, I was particularly struck by images of supposed Mau Mau rebels cooped up behind barbed wire, and a particularly poignant photo of a British soldier searching a tubby, scruffy old peasant leading a donkey in Cyprus. So stupid, wars; complete failures of intelligence, failures to negotiate sensible rational solutions to human quarrels. (For the Mau Mau rebellion from the African point of view, see my reviews of the novels of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o.)

But it wasn’t all war: Bert went on photo assignments to an impressive roster of countries, photographing ordinary life in Thailand, Bali, Burma, and across Europe to Ireland, France, Spain and Portugal, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, Poland and Yugoslavia. He also went to Botswana, India, Indonesia, Morocco, Nyasaland, Rhodesia, Sudan and Tibet. Wow. What a life for a poor boy from the Elephant and Castle.

Farmer in the Douro Valley, Portugal (September 1951) Photo by Bert Hardy

Between these foreign forays he travelled widely in the UK, recording the grim living conditions of working class people in London, Glasgow, Belfast, Tyneside and Liverpool and, along the way, documenting social and cultural changes after the war. By the early 1950s his work had become so well known and acclaimed that he was offered a job on the bigger, richer Life magazine (which he turned down).

Display case showing front covers of photojournalism stories by Hardy along with other memorabilia. Photo by the author

In the 1950s Bert branched out to cover the glamour and glitz of London’s theatre land and visits by Hollywood stars. Just before Picture Post closed, Hardy took 15 photos of the Queen’s entrance into the Paris Opera on 8 April 1957, which were assembled into a photo-montage – there’s a case devoted to this elaborate magazine spread.

In parallel to the war, travel and glamour work, he also covered sporting events – the exhibition features shots of cycling (early on he had freelanced for Cycling magazine), wrestling and boxing stars.

Robinson And Fans, 1951. Photo by Bert Hardy/Picture Post/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Videos

Exhibition overview:

Interview with the curators:

Thoughts

Life just seemed so much more interesting and varied in those days. Britain’s cities look mired in crushing poverty, hardly anyone had a television (plenty didn’t have an inside toilet or hot water), but one aspect of this was a much greater diversity of people and dress and accent. Nowadays everyone dresses (more or less) the same and sounds the same and carries the same phones, and the shopping malls of London, Liverpool, Belfast or Glasgow all look depressingly the same with the same chain stores selling the same products. The world had much more genuine diversity and character back then.

But above and beyond learning a lot of detail about Bert Hardy’s career and individual commissions, the simple thought this exhibition prompts is that his photos need almost no explanation. They come from an era when photography and photojournalism was intended to be immediately comprehensible to a wide and popular audience, and by God, they are – incredibly direct and impactful.

The contrast with our own image-cluttered and intellectually verbose age is emphasised when you walk up a floor at the Photographers’ Gallery to see the four finalists for the Deutsche Börse Photography Foundation Prize 2024. Each one of these requires a lengthy wall caption to introduce them and their aims and project plans and so on; and then each photograph requires a lot of explanation, some of them covering an entire A4 page.

Obviously all the Hardy shots do have wall labels giving their title and one in every three or four also has a caption giving a bit more detail and context – but none of them really need it. The whole point is that the images speak for themselves in a way that, interestingly, a lot of modern photography just doesn’t. Which means they are wonderfully democratic and accessible and inclusive, in a way that so much modern art and photography simply isn’t.

Cockney Life in the Elephant and Castle: ‘My goodness, my Guinness’ (1949) Photo by Bert Hardy/Picture Post/Hulton Archive/Getty Images


Related link

Photographers’ Gallery reviews

A War of Choice: Honour, Hubris and Sacrifice: The British in Iraq by Jack Fairweather (2012)

This is an outstandingly thorough, factual and authoritative account of the British Army’s involvement in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, maybe the most comprehensive, detailed and balanced account available.

Jack Fairweather

Jack Fairweather covered the Iraq War as the Daily Telegraph‘s Baghdad and Gulf correspondent for five years. He and his team won a British Press Award for their coverage. He went on to be the Washington Post‘s Islamic World correspondent. By the time this book was published he had become a fellow at the Centre for Middle Eastern Studies.

It’s a solid work of 430 pages, consisting of 32 chapters with good maps, thorough notes, a list of key players, a useful bibliography, index and so on. Well done to the publishers, Vintage, for such a professional package.

However, something (obviously) beyond their control is that, having been published in 2012 means the narrative does not include the rise of ISIS and the chaos that ensued. Fairweather’s narrative is now over ten years out of date, a factor I’m coming to realise is vitally important when reading about this disastrous part of the world (Iraq-Iran-Afghanistan-Pakistan) and, in particular, putting the entire conflict in Afghanistan into context, given the swift collapse of the Afghan government and return to power of the Taliban in 2021.

Companion piece to Thomas Ricks’s Fiasco

Having read Fiasco, Thomas E. Ricks’s highly detailed accounts of the US decision making and planning leading up to the war, it’s fascinating to follow the same storyline from the British government point of view. For example, how the UK government made the same mistake of failing to consider or plan for the aftermath of the war, but for different reasons.

Tony Blair was the first British premier to be fully aware of modern media and how to use them. He and Alistair Campbell were all about focus groups, opinion polling and managing the news cycle and this is all short term thinking. Fixated as he and his team were on the media, they were obsessed that concrete proof the UK was planning for war shouldn’t leak out. Therefore Blair forbade the Department for International Development from officially commissioning post-invasion planning (the kind of thing it specialises in) in case someone leaked it (p.13). Similarly, Blair forbade the Army from placing orders for the kind of kit it would need for a large-scale deployment abroad (p.14). So Blair’s obsession with media management prevented him from properly, fully considering the post-conquest management of Iraq, from commissioning adequate plans for reconstruction, and from planning for the post-invasion policing by the British Army. Inexcusable.

Key points

Fairweather covers every detail, every aspect of the story, in calm, measured, authoritative chronological order. This really feels like the account to read.

1997 Tony Blair elected Prime Minister.

1998 Blair supports the Operation Desert Fox bombing campaign against Saddam. New Labour make  the first increase to the military budget after a decade of Tory cuts.

March 1999 Blair succeeds in pushing the US and NATO to intervene in Kosovo with a bombing campaign against Serbia (with mixed results; see Michael Ignatieff’s book on the subject).

April 1999 Blair makes his Chicago speech making the case for intervention/invasion of countries on a humanitarian basis if dictators are massacring their people.

The 9/11 attacks change everything. President George W. Bush immediately starts planning an attack on Al Qaeda in Afghanistan. In October 2001 US forces began their attack, supporting the Northern Alliance against the Taliban government. The Taliban overthrown by December 2001. George Bush phones Tony Blair to sound him out about attacking Saddam Hussein.

The long tortuous process whereby the US tries to bamboozle the UN Security Council into agreeing a resolution allowing the invasion, and the New Labour government began its campaign of lies and deception, resulting in the dodgy dossier of fake intelligence, cobbled-together scraps from a PhD thesis including the ludicrous claim that Saddam could launch ‘weapons of mass destruction’ in 45 minutes. It was indicative of the way New Labour were obsessed by media and presentation and paid little attention to substance.

20 March 2003 The ‘coalition’ invasion of Iraq began. During the build-up, a variety of figures in the military and civil service discovered there was no plan for what to do after the invasion. It was mainly the Americans’ fault, Bush only set up an Office for Post-War Iraq a few weeks before the invasion and ignored advice contained in documents like Tom Warrick’s ‘the Future of Iraq’ project (p.15). Reconstruction was handed to retired general Jay Garner who rang round his pals to ask if any of them knew how to rebuild a country. Planning was ‘shambolic’ (p.21).

In London, Attorney General Peter Goldsmith had to be cajoled into reluctantly agreeing that invasion was legal without a second, specific UN resolution stating as much. How much he must regret that now (p.19). Alastair Campbell bullied ministers into kowtowing to Blair’s determination to march alongside the Americans i.e. be Bush’s poodle (p.19). Claire Short, Secretary at the Department for International Development, let herself be persuaded not to quit, something she regretted ever after.

Haider Samad and Iraqi stories

It’s worth highlighting that unlike most other books I’ve read on the shambles, Fairweather goes out of his way to include the stories of actual Iraqis. The first we meet is a man named Haider Samad. We hear about his family background, his wish to marry, intertwined with the history of Shiite religion in the southern part of Iraq. Samad will volunteer to become an interpreter for the British Army with ruinous consequences for himself and his family and Fairweather will return to his story at various points during the narrative as a kind of indicator of the British occupation’s broken promises and failures.

Names

Another distinctive feature of the book is the extraordinary number of named individuals Fairweather introduces us to, on every page, and their extraordinary range. Chapter 3 opens with Major Chris Parker patrolling Basra six weeks after the successful invasion has overthrown Saddam, to his commanding officer, Brigadier Graham Binns, a Scots Dragoon Officer Captain James Fenmore, Lieutenant Colonel Nick Ashmore, paymaster Ian Jaggard-Hawkins, Lieutenant Colonel Gil Baldwin of the Queen’s Royal Dragoons, the army’s top lawyer in Iraq Lieutenant Colonel Nicholas Mercer, SAS commander Baghdad Richard Williams and hundreds and hundreds more.

On one level the book is a blizzard of individual names and stories of soldiers engaged in this or that aspect of the occupation, which is what makes his nine-page list of Dramatis personae at the end of the book invaluable.

Back to the narrative

Defence Minister Geoff Hoon made as light of the epidemic of looting which broke out in the aftermath of the invasion as Donald Rumsfeld did, claiming the looters were ‘redistributing wealth’, which was a good idea. Idiot (p.29).

The thing is, the British had invaded Basra before, back during the Great War when we were seeking to defeat the Ottoman Empire which had allied with Germany and Austria. Hence the Commonwealth War Cemetery which Sniper One Dan Mills discovered in al-Amarah and gave him a fully justified sense of ‘What are we doing back here a hundred years later’? Now, as then, after overthrowing the ruling elite, the British discovered there weren’t many capable native Iraqis to run anything, even to form a town council. Eventually, they picked on a Sunni tribal leader to run a majority Shia town, Basra, an error of judgement which, of course, immediately triggered widespread protests (p.31). Ignorance.

Fairweather details how, struggling with the number of detainees and ‘suspected terrorists’ they were being sent, British military police and soldiers came to abuse and intimidate the rapidly increasing number of ‘terrorist’ detainees, set up kangaroo courts and deliver summary justice (p.33). This led to the scandal surrounding Corporal Daniel Kenyon and colleagues who took photos of themselves abusing Iraqi prisoners at ‘Camp Breadbasket’, which leaked out, led to their arrests and trial and conviction (pages 46 to 48). The British version of the Abu Ghraib scandal. All the politicians’ claims about moral superiority of the West went up in smoke.

After less than 2 months flailing to run an office of reconstruction, Jay Garner was fired and replaced by L. Paul Bremer who was the ‘right kind’ of Republican i.e. a devout Christian and neo-conservative (p.40). He was put in charge of the newly created Coalition Provisional Authority. He was to prove a relentless, impatient workaholic who took catastrophic decisions and plunged Iraq into a civil war and vicious ethnic cleansing.

Fairweather chronicles the key role played by Douglas Feith (under secretary of Defense for Policy from July 2001 until August 2005) in persuading Bremer to completely disband the Iraqi army and remove everyone with high or mid-level membership of Saddam’s ruling Ba’ath Party from their jobs. At a stroke this threw half a million well-trained young men (the army) onto the dole queue and a hundred thousand people with managerial experience (Ba’ath) ditto. Bremer refused to listen to the argument that most Ba’ath Party members cared nothing about the party’s ideology, that being a member was simply a requirement of holding senior posts like hospital consultant or head of the power or water systems. Bremer didn’t listen. They were all fired. Chaos ensued.

From these angry men whose lives were ruined by L. Paul Bremer sprang the insurgency. Tim Cross, a British logistics expert who worked with Garner till he quit in disgust called American efforts ‘chaotic’ and a ‘shambles’ (p.41).

Britain contributed 40,000 troops to the initial invasion. By mid-summer 2003 half had returned to Blighty. General Sir Mike Jackson became head of the British Army.

September 2003 the BBC Today programme quoted an anonymous source claiming that New Labour officials ‘sexed up’ the ‘dodgy dossier’ which we went to war on, infuriating Alastair Campbell. The label was to stick to this day (p.50).

A section about the history of the Marsh Arabs, going back to the first occupation of Iraq by the British during and after the Great War. The exploits of Gertrude Bell, who crops up repeatedly in Emma Sky’s account of her time in Iraq (p.52). The Marsh Arabs’ history of independence and revolt against central authority. The disastrous way they were encouraged to rise up against Saddam by President George Bush who then failed to provide any support so that tens of thousands were slaughtered by Saddam’s forces. Then Saddam’s decade long project to drain the marshes altogether and destroy their way of life, which he had just about achieved by the time of the 2003 invasion.

Maysan was the only Iraqi province to liberate itself from Saddam’s security forces and had no intention of kowtowing to the foreign invaders. Into Maysan province, came the Third Battalion the Parachute Regiment, famous for their gung-ho approach. Fairweather quotes Patrick Bishop’s description of the paras from his book ‘3 Para’ (2007) which I’ve reviewed.

Angry protests against the occupying forces started straight away, with stones being thrown, and then the first shots being fired. It was Northern Ireland all over again, but without the half a dozen crucial elements which made Northern Ireland, in the end, manageable (itemised in Frank Ledwidge’s outstanding book on the subject). In Basra, unlike Ulster, there was a lack of clear government authority, and the lack of a reliable police force to work alongside, the lack of a shared culture and language, and the lack of enough men to do the job.

In a series of incidents which he described in great detail (‘From the rooftop Robinson shouted, “Remember lads, you’re fucking paratroopers”‘), Fairweather traces the quick degeneration of the ‘peacekeeping’ mission into a fight for survival against hostile crowds and growing numbers of highly motivated, highly armed local ‘insurgents’.

The soldiers of 1 Para were only faintly familiar with the region’s history and how it had bred a culture of suspicion of outsiders. (p.55)

Fairweather gives a detailed forensic account of the killing of six military police by an enraged crowd after they got trapped in the police station of Majar al-Kabir on 24 June (pages 55 to 63). Critics focused on the lack of equipment, specifically a satellite phone to call for help, and their insufficient ammunition. Having read Lewidge’s book, though, I understand how the soldiers had been put into a completely untenable position by the naive over-optimism of the politicians (Blair) and the failure of the army general staff either to stand up to the politicians (to say no) and then to provide adequate intelligence, adequate equipment but, above all, a clear strategy to deal with the worsening situation.

Fairweather describes the arrival of a new British civil servant, Miles Pennett, sent to work with the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA) in Baghdad and the chaos he found there created by teeming hordes of graduates all fresh out of American universities and selected solely for their adherence to right-wing neo-conservative Republican values (p.69).

(In his book ‘Imperial Life in the Emerald City: Inside Baghdad’s Green Zone’ , American journalist Rajiv Chandrasekaran tells us candidates for the CPA were interviewed about their views on abortion or neo-liberal economics rather than any technical qualifications or experience whatsoever. This explains the CPA’s reputation for chaos and incompetence.)

While things fell apart in Iraq, Tony Blair flew to the States to receive a Congressional Gold Medal and make a grandstanding speech to the Congress. It shifted a complete change in the aims of the occupation. Gone was mention of the weapons of mass destruction which had so feverishly justified the invasion. Now, it turned out, the occupation was about bringing universal values of democracy, human rights and liberty to ‘the darkest corners of the earth’ (p.70).

In other words a) indistinguishable from Victorian rhetoric about civilising India or Africa which justified control and occupation; and b) bullshit, because i) quite a few ‘places’ don’t particularly want ‘democracy, human rights and liberty’, they want food and water so they don’t starve to death and, next above that, security: maintenance of law and order so it’s safe to walk the streets. That – basic security – comes a million miles before Western values and, in the event, the occupying forces in both Iraq and Afghanistan turned out to be unable to provide them.

And ii) because as explained at the start of this review, Western-style democracy was never an option for Iraq, with its complex and corrupt matrix of tribal, ethnic and religious allegiances; and never, ever a possibility in Afghanistan.

Pride comes before a fall. The day after Balir received his congressional medal the body of David Kelly, the weapons expert, was found in a wood. He had committed suicide. He had been the source for BBC journalist Andrew Gilligan’s story about the ‘sexed up’ dossier about WMDs the government used to deceive MPs into voting for the war. Hoon and Campbell had pressed for Kelly’s name to be leaked to the press in order to discredit him. It never actually was leaked but enough information was provided for the press to be able to identify him. Snared in a political mesh he could see no way out of without ruining his reputation, Kelly took his own life. Alastair Campbell was forced to resign. The New Labour government was snared in scandal (pages 70 to 73).

All this distracted from the worsening situation in Baghdad. Fairweather’s account is super-detailed. He gives precise names, careers, quotes for hundreds of the personnel deployed to the CPA in Baghdad and to run Basra Province. It was the usual cobbled-together, last minute list of candidates as had characterised the hurried creation of Jay Garner’s short-lived Office for Reconstruction and Humanitarian Assistance: a former director at a merchant bank was appointed finance minister, a public schoolmaster was appointed minister of education, an internet entrepreneur was made minister for trade and industry (p.67).

The advent of Sir Jeremy Greenstock, UK ambassador to the UN, now despatched to the court of Paul Bremer at the Coalition Provisional Authority and the difficulties he encountered, namely the Americans steamed ahead doing whatever they wanted to (dissolved the 500,000 strong Iraqi army, sacked 100,000 Ba’ath Party members from their jobs, delayed elections) and ignored him.

The Anglo-American relationship that Blair had gone to war to strengthen was coming under serious pressure. In fact it was increasingly difficult to find areas where British and American views matched. (p.79)

America’s disastrous early efforts to ‘train’ a new Iraqi police force, handed to Bernie Kerik, a former New York City police commissioner (p.79). Rumsfeld tries to reduce the budget required to train a new army. Fairweather strikingly calls Rumsfeld ‘a bully’ (p.80).

Typical neo con plans to privatise Iraq’s hundreds of state-own industries in one fell swoop, to be masterminded by former venture capitalist at Citicorp, Tom Foley (p.80). Chandrasekaran is very funny about the complete lunacy of this ideas and its ruinous impact on an economy already on its knees.

As a presidential election year approaches, the politicking in the US, Bush reshuffles his team.

Rumsfeld, whose grasp on the chaos he had created was tenuous, was removed (p.83)

Condoleeza Rice takes over. Arguments about the new Iraqi constitution, when it should be drawn up, who it should be drawn up by, whether or not it could form the legal basis for elections, when those elections should be held, what kind of form they take (Bremer preferred US-style electoral colleges rather than a simple poll).

By the end of 2003 Iraq fatigue had set in in London. Blair’s entire personality was built around can-do optimism and so found it difficult to cope with the relentless bad news from Iraq. And he’d lost Campbell, his key advisor and media manipulator.

By October 2003 the British administration in Basra accepted the fact that it was, in effect, an imperial occupation, and moved into Saddam’s palace. Fairweather shows us how it worked through the eyes of Sir Hilary Synnott, Regional Coordinator of the Coalition Provisional Authority in Southern Iraq from 2003 to 2004.

The problem of the UK Department for International development, populated by progressives who strongly opposed the war, and the occupation, were desperate to escape accusations of imperialism, but were entirely dependent on the military pacifying the place before they could do a stroke of ‘development’ work.

When development minister Hilary Benn and permanent undersecretary Suma Chakrabarti flew into Basra it was to discover the army commander, Major General Graeme Lamb, mired in controversy because some squaddies from the Queen’s Lancashire Regiment had just arrested seven Iraqis, took them back to base, hooded them, abused and beat and tortured them, till one of them, Baha Mousa, died (p.86). What was it Tony Blair was saying about bringing universal values of democracy, human rights and liberty to ‘the darkest corners of the earth’?

Meanwhile the other provinces of southern Iraq needed governing. Fairweather introduces us to the men selected for the job, being: Mark Etherington, former paratrooper; old Etonian Rory Stewart, whose account of his time in the role I’ve reviewed; old Etonian John Bourne; Emma Sky, former British Council worker, whose account I’ve also reviewed (p.89).

Fairweather makes the simple but penetrating point that a certain type of posh Englishman has always ‘loved’ and identified with the Arab way of life because it echoes the primitive hierarchy and independence (for tribal leaders) which used to exist in Britain, in medieval to early modern times. They instinctively identified with the feudal setup which reminded them of their own country estates and venerable lineages.

Anyway, these Brits were handed entire provinces to run, exactly as in the high days of empire when jolly good chaps ruled provinces the size of France or more. Their efforts were so amateurish it’s funny. Adrian Weale was handed the task of organising elections in Nasariyah. He had no idea how to do this so emailed his wife, a borough councillor in Kensington and Chelsea (of course), and asked her to send him guidelines for local elections in Britain, to be adapted for Iraq. Making it up as they went along.

None of this stopped Stewart, in Maysan, having problems with the self-styled ‘Prince of the Marshes’, Abu Hatem, while Etherington, 100 miles north, appointed governor of Wasit, whose northern border touched Baghdad, was beginning to have trouble from the followers of Shia cleric Muqtada al-Sadr and his devoted followers. In a telling sentence, Fairweather says: ‘Sadr was organising faster than the British’ (p.91). Sadr established his own parallel provisional government for Iraq and declared any government created by the British or Americans illegitimate (p.91).

In November Etherington attended a conference of US business donors in Baghdad and was astonished at how out of touch the CPA was. Even the US military was surprised at being kept out of the loop by Bremer and his secretive cabal of advisers.

Back in Amara Stewart was involved in a complicated sequence of events which led to rioters looting the office of the local governor, who had been inserted into the job by the egregious Abu Hatem. British troops found it hard to contain brick-throwing mobs. Stewart reflected that his Victorian forebears believed in their mission and were committed to the long-term development of their countries. Deep down Stewart knew that wasn’t true of Britain.

2004 uprisings

All the allies had growing misgivings about the growing power of Muqtada al-Sadr. In March 2004 Bremer took the publication of a series of articles lambasting the Coalition Provisional Authority in Sadr’s newspaper, Al-Hawzat as a pretext to shut it down. On 3 April US troops arrested the editor, sparking protests. On 4 April fighting broke out in Najaf, Sadr City and Basra. Sadr’s Mahdi Army took over several points and attacked coalition soldiers, killing dozens of foreign soldiers. This was the start of the Sadr Uprising in the south of Iraq.

What made the situation ten times worse was that on 31 March gunmen ambushed four American contractors outside Falluja to the west of Baghdad, beat them to death, burned their bodies and hung them from a bridge over the river Euphrates. Footage was beamed round the world. Bush was horrified and vowed revenge.

Suddenly the occupying forces were faced with a Sunni uprising in the so-called Sunni Triangle to the West of Baghdad, and a parallel but separate uprising by violent forces loyal to Sadr in every town in the south.

Fairweather details the experience of Mark Etherington in the Cimic compound at Kut as fierce fighting breaks out between the Shia militia and the Ukrainian UN troops. Here and in all the other towns of south Iraq, the UN and CPA compounds came under intense fire. The Americans’ actions against Sadr in Baghdad effectively plunged southern Iraq into war. Etherington knew all about the catastrophic defeat of a sizeable British Army at Kut by Ottoman troops during the First World War one hundred years earlier (p.109). Fairweather gives a brilliantly vivid and nail-biting description of Etherington and his staff abandoning the compound at Kut. The same kind of thing was happening at Nasariyah under its Italian governor, Barbara Contini.

Meanwhile, the President had ordered the US army to enter the town of Fallujah and find the people responsible for the murder of the civilian contracts. This ridiculously impossible task of course led to all out war and the First Battle of Fallujah. All round the world were beamed footage of houses being destroyed, terrified civilians being rounded up, and thousands of refugees fleeing the city as the civilian casualties grew into the hundreds. All round the Arab world young men decided they had to go to Iraq to fight these genocidal invaders.

Fairweather quotes part of a George Bush speech which epitomises one of the American’s conceptual stupidities, where Bush says: ‘the American people want to know that we’re going after the bad guys’ (p.111). These simple-minded dichotomies, the binary polarities of a thousand Hollywood movies, which divide people up into the Good Guys (John Wayne, Bruce Willis) and the Bad Guys (wearing black hats), governed US policy throughout the twentieth century. This worked fine when there really were Bad Guys, like the Nazis, but not so well in societies riven with complex ethnic, religious, social and political divides, such as Vietnam or Iraq where there’s a wide variety of bad actors and it becomes impossible to figure out who the ‘good’ ones are, if any.

Obviously, in order to bring the ‘murderers to justice’ many times more US troops were killed and injured than the original 4 contractors. In the end 37 American soldiers were killed and over 600 Iraqi civilians. Huge parts of a major city were devastated. Inevitably, the supposed murderers of the contractors were never found.

Apart from the obvious security issues, it caused a political issue because the entire Sunni membership of the provisional Iraqi government which Bremer was trying to cobble together threatened to quit, and could only be made to support coalition forces with an extreme of arm-twisting and promises of money and influence.

Meanwhile, in the south of Iraq, US forces retook the CPA compounds in Kut, Amarah and Nasariyah, but the British consuls who returned to their posts had abandoned all thoughts of reconstruction and development. Not getting killed became their number one priority (p.113).

Bremer was strongly critical of the British failure to secure the south, exacerbated by negative coverage of the American butchery in Fallujah in the British press, plunging American-British relations to a new low and this led to a significant outcome. Bremer banned British representatives from the ongoing discussions with local politicians about the forthcoming constitution and elections.

Britain’s effective involvement in shaping Iraq’s political future was over. (p.114)

In late April the photos of American abuse of Iraqi prisoners at the notorious prison at Abu Ghraib to the west of Baghdad emerged. I’ve described it elsewhere. Bringing ‘universal values of democracy, human rights and liberty’ eh?

For a spell Fairweather’s text overlaps the narrative of Sergeant Dan Mills, sniper with the Princess of Wales’s Royal Regiment, in his bestselling book, Sniper One. Mills describes how, on the very first patrol on the very first morning of the very first day of their deployment, Danny and his patrol parked up outside the local headquarters of Sadr’s Mahdi Army or Jaish al-Mahdi as it was properly called, JAM as the Brits called it. Mills’s patrol did this in complete and utter ignorance of the local geography, town layout, and local sense of bitter resentment of the infidel occupiers.

The JAM attacked, using machine guns, rocket propelled grenades and mortars, and Danny and his mates found themselves in the middle of a series of intense firefights and attacks which continued on a daily basis until their eventual withdrawal from the Amarah government compound four months later.

The Americans had now surrounded al-Sadr who was holed up in the Imam Ali Shrine in the holy city of Najaf where their attempts to break in had damaged some parts of the shrine. Shia anger was off the scale. Danny and his mates and all UK forces across the south of the country had to deal with the consequences. Fairweather gives a series of absolutely gripping, vivid, terrifying eye witness accounts of the running battles and firefights which followed.

The Prince of the Marshes, Abu Hatem, threw in his lot with the Sadrists. When the Brits made a raid to capture insurgents and took prisoners back to their prison, the detainees were subject to abuse and heard screams and torture sounds from other cells. When eventually released these stories helped recruit more insurgents and incentivise existing ones into a life or death struggle against the invader. Public relations catastrophe (p.123).

Escape to Afghanistan

In January 2004 the Hutton Inquiry into David Kelly’s death acquitted the government of blame and BBC Director General Greg Dyke resigned, but much of the media accused the report of being a whitewash. Fairweather quotes cabinet colleagues who noticed the impact the strain was having on Blair’s face. Hs hair started to turn grey.

In June 2004 a NATO conference decided the US-led mission had languished because of the focus on Iraq and volunteered NATO forces to take a more active role in Afghanistan. Why? Use it or lose it. NATO had big budgets from member countries who periodically wondered why they were spending so much. This would give the organisation the sense of purpose it needed.

In London Blair and his team saw it as an opportunity to regain the initiative. In Iraq we were not only visibly losing but being sidelined in every way imaginable by the Yanks. Deployment to Afghanistan offered the British Army a chance to redeem its damaged reputation and Tony Blair a way of restoring his reputation as an international statesman.

In fact the Americans had specifically asked the Brits to relocate NATO’s Allied Rapid Reaction Corps to the south of Iraq. It was crunch time. Fairweather describes the nitty gritty of discussions, with pros and cons on both sides. But the Brits decided to cut and run. Iraq was a swamp where the Americans disrespected us. Afghanistan offered a second chance. But could we fight a war on two fronts? The decisive view was given by director of operations at the Ministry of Defence, Lieutenant General Robert Fry. He argued that troop deployments to Afghanistan would be ramped up as troops in Iraq were drawn down. This was ratified by Chief of the Defence Staff Michael Walker. They’re the men to blame.

Fairweather gives a detailed analysis of the politics around successive Defence Reviews, with the Treasury constantly trying to cut the military budget and the top brass looking for any arguments to increase it. This in turn was meshed with the bitter rivalry between Blair the international grandstander and Gordon Brown, morosely hunkered down as Chancellor of the Exchequer. So another reason for the Afghan Adventure was entirely due to Whitehall politicis, in that the deployment forced a reluctant Treasury to release more money to the Ministry of Defence.

Chapter 13

Cut to a fascinating chapter about dismal attempts to train a new Iraqi police force, told through the eyes of Brit trainer William Kearney, 12 years in the Special Branch and now manager of ArmorGroup security, one of the many contractors who worked in Iraq. Compare and contrast with the American approach which was to flood the streets with poorly trained ‘police’ provided with uniforms, guns and ammunition which they quite regularly sold onto the insurgents.

We meet up again with Iraqi Haider Samad who is working for the Brits in Basra as an interpreter and the time he was beaten to the ground by four strangers who tell him next time they’ll kill him if he carries on working for the infidel. Haider’s experience is a peg to introduce the wider issue that many, many of the new ‘police’ being recruited at such speed in order to make Western politicians happy, were themselves members of the Shia militias.

Chapter 14

Introduction to the leader of Jaish al-Mahdi in Basra, Ahmed al-Fartosi, and his aim to utterly destroy the British occupation. He was convinced the Brits wanted to extend their occupation forever because their real aim was to steal Iraq’s oil. He had spent some time in exile in Lebanon and so on return to Basra reorganised the militia along the lines of the Iranian-backed Hezbollah. That said, Fartosi was no fan of the Iranians who had fought Iraqis in a bitter eight-year-long war. Half a million Iraqis died in that war and Iran came close to capturing Basra.

Another one of Fairweather’s gripping descriptions of a firefight which broke out on 9 August in Basra between British forces and the Shia militia led by Fartosi who ambushed a patrol forcing them to take refuge in nearby houses and call for backup etc.

Amara Fairweather cuts to the similar situation in Amara where sniper Mills and his buddies were included in the 150 or so coalition troops defending the Cimic House compound from daily attacks and hourly mortar bombs. After a particular intense firefight all the Iraqi cooks and ancillary staff leave, taking as much loot with them as they could carry. Fairweather then gives his version of the siege of Cimic House, the intense battle which forms the centrepiece of Mill’s book, Sniper One (pages 155 to 158).

Soon afterwards al-Sadr caved to majority Shia opinion and called off his insurgency. The far more influential cleric Grand Ayatollah Sistani had returned to the country, gone to Najaf and seen the damage to the shrine which he, and moderate Shia opinion, blamed on Sadr. Hence his climbdown.

Fairweather switches from his intense description of combat right up to the highest level of politics and the scheming by Iraqi exile Ayad Allawi to curry favour with the Americans and get himself appointed new president of Iraq. All the accounts I’ve read describe Allawi as a plausible swindler who promised Bush and Rumsfeld whatever they wanted to hear, thus materially aiding the misconceptions and lack of planning on which the invasion was launched.

Fairweather drolly explains that this plausible chancer was put on the payroll of MI6 and ‘supplied the British government with some of the most flagrantly misleading intelligence before the war, namely the completely bogus claim that Saddam could launch weapons of mass destruction in 45 minutes (p.131). This crook had Bush and Blair’s enthusiastic personal support.

In November the Americans launched the Second Battle of Fallujah with a view to exterminating Sunni insurgents and establishing the rule of law. The battle saw some of the heaviest urban combat the American army had been involved in since the ill-fated Battle of Hue City in Vietnam in 1968. 95 American and 4 British soldiers were killed, along with up to 2,000 ‘insurgents’. Over a fifth of the city was destroyed.

2005 election A general election for the interim Iraqi parliament was held on 30 January 2005. Sunni Muslims, despite being a minority in Iraq (64% Shia, 34% Sunni, 2% Christian and other) had historically held power. Saddam and his clique were Sunnis. Now, in protest against the battle of Fallujah and the perceived bias of the occupying force towards Shias, large numbers of Sunnis boycotted the elections. This was self-defeating as it gave sweeping victory to Shia parties backed by Grand Ayatollah Sistani. Allawi’s parties polled just 14%.

Both Americans and Brits now had to deal with an ‘elected’ Iraqi government dominated by Shias who, far from being grateful to their liberators, were deeply suspicious and resentful of them.

Chapter 16

Fairweather switches focus to a new location, the south of Afghanistan, giving us a potted history of Britain’s ill-fated military adventures here during the nineteenth century, notably the swingeing defeat at the Battle of Maiwand, 27 July 1880, heaviest defeat of a Western power by an Asian power until the prolonged Ottoman siege and massacre of the British at Kut in southern Iraq in the winter of 1915/16

Cut to 2004 as the British Army staff begin to plan a deployment to Afghanistan. Now that elections had taken place, British planners and politicians looked for a way to extract the army from Iraq. The task fell to Major general Jonathon Riley who adopted the formula of the Americans: as the Iraqi police force ‘stepped up’, the British forces would ‘step down’. Sounded good but conveniently ignored the fact that the so-called ‘police’ were very poor quality, corrupt if you were lucky, at worst – during many of the clashes of the Sadr Uprising – joining the insurgents in shooting at British troops. When the police were objective and reasonably independent, they were themselves liable to attack. In the first half of 2005 350 police officers were killed in attacks on police stations and recruiting centres.

We remeet the Brits handed the challenging job of training Iraqi police, namely William Kearney and Charlie MacCartney, police mentor of the Jamiat; SIS station chief Kevin Landers. Fairweather details the process whereby all these guys come to realise that the head of the Serious Crimes Unit (SCU) Captain Jaffar, was deeply in league with the insurgents. In fact the SCU was to become a growing bugbear in the Brits’ side, and establish itself as a centre of criminality and extortion against the civilian population.

Elections are all very well but the January 2005 ones put Sadr party members into Basra’s provincial council and into the governor’s seat. But the Brits didn’t want to stir up a hornet’s nest. They were now planning to withdraw all but 1,000 British troops from Iraq by end of 2005, with a view to redeploying them to Afghanistan at the start of 2006.

How did the Brits get deployed to Helmand, right next to the historic battlefield of Maiwand, home of the fiercest, most invader-resistant traditions in all Afghanistan? Well, remember the whole thing was a NATO operation. The Canadians had lobbied hard to have overall control of the deployment to south Afghanistan and called first dibs on the biggest town, Kandahar. Considering the alternatives, the Brits learned that Helmand Province had now become the biggest single source of heroin, which would please the army’s civilian master, Tony Blair. And it was also the historical homeland of the Taliban, so combatting them would also give political brownie points to Blair, keen to rehabilitate his ailing reputation.

Chapter 17

At this point Fairweather cuts away to catch up on the career of interpreter Haider who was now working for a private security firm. His boss was William Kearney who we’ve seen trying to train the Iraqi police. Haider has saved up enough money to propose to his childhood sweetheart, Nora, whose family previously banned the match due to his lack of money.

Chapter 18

Reg Keys’s son, Tom, was one of the six military policemen murdered by the mob at Majar al-Kabir police station in June 2003. Fairweather devotes some time to chronicling Keys’s campaign to get to the bottom of his son’s death but his increasing frustration with MoD prevarication. The army board of enquiry published its findings nine months later. The families of the dead were not invited to contribute or to attend. They asked for advance copies on the eve of publication but were refused. They were given just an hour to read the 90-page report ahead of a meeting with Defence Secretary Geoff Hoons. Despicable.

Arguably the limited and obviously parti pris ‘enquiries’ into the launching of the war, the David Kelly affair and the red caps’ deaths went a long way to discrediting the entire idea of a government enquiry.

The angered parents set up a support group, Military Families Against the War (p.253). But they went further and funded Keys to stand in Tony Blair’s constituency of Sedgemoor in the 2005 general election. Fairweather gives a characteristically thorough and fascinating description of how what started as a jokey suggestion over a coffee was turned into a serious political reality, giving us lots of information about the working of modern British political parties and the media.

Just before the election Channel 4 News leaked a March 2003 memo from Attorney General Peter Goldsmith giving his opinion that he didn’t think the case for war would stand up in a court of law. Only days later a soldier in Amarah was hit by a roadside bomb and killed. The war wouldn’t leave Tony Bair alone. You broke it; you own it.

In the general election Blair’s share of the vote went from 65 to 59% and Reg won 10%. Labour’s majority in the House of Commons was cut from 200 to 66 MPs. So not a defeat. In fact pollsters considered the Iraq war a minor issue. The economy was booming and lots of people didn’t care all that much (as, arguably, most sensible people don’t care about any form of politics).

(Page 197 quote from Ibn Saud, future king of Saudi Arabia, on the irredeemably rebellious nature of the Iraqi tribes who can only be governed by ‘strong measures and military force’.)

Chapter 19. Iran

Rocky relations between the Brits in Amarah tasked with patrolling the porous border with Iran, just 50k away, and the newly elected governor, Adel Muhoder al-Maliki. More descriptions of firefights and attacks the latest troop of British soldiers come under within minutes of leaving the heavily defended Amarah air base. The point is that the incredibly brave bomb disposal officer, Captain Simon Bratcher, not only neutralised a clutch of roadside bombs but provided the first evidence that they were being supplied by Iran.

The Shia government It’s all very well organising ‘free and fair elections’ until they end up voting in people you strongly disapprove of. Two months after the January 2005 elections, Ibrahim Jaafari, the leader of Dawa, one of the two main Shia parties, was announced as the next Iraqi Prime Minister. The Interior Ministry was handed to Bayan Jabr, a former commander of a Badr Brigade i.e. one of the main Shia militias. These men continued to further Iran’s influence at every level of the Iraqi administration. The Interior Ministry was said to have set up death squads to kidnap, torture and execute former Ba’ath Party members and Sunni leaders.

Jack Straw learns of an American plan to set up death squads to ‘take out’ leading Iranian agents working in Iraq militia leaders, but vetoes it (p.. (Did they go ahead anyway?) Straw’s objections were about not upsetting the Iranians at a difficult time of negotiations with the West about Iran’s nuclear power programme. But it’s one example among hundreds of how Iraqi politics became steadily more entangled with Iranian.

Fairweather makes an interesting point. Iranian policy in Iraq often seemed contradictory – at the same time supporting the Shia-led government but also backing anti-government militias. But why shouldn’t Iran be like Western countries, with conflicting parties and factions jostling for power and implementing different, sometimes conflicting strategies? Also: why not make it a conscious strategy to back different parties and factions while it was unclear who would win (p.204). In the end, of course, Iran won.

Chapter 20. Jamiat

This was the name of the police station in Basra which had become the focal point of corruption, extortion, kidnapping, torture and militia influence. Major Rupert Jones of the newly arrived 12 Mechanised Brigade decided to do something about it and asked for a list of possibly corrupt policemen. It became an uncomfortably long list. The Brits asked for them to be removed. Nothing happened. Then they asked for Fartosi to be arrested but learned that Fartosi had been put on a ‘no lift’ list because the prime Minister didn’t want to antagonise the Sadrists on whose support his government rested.

Kidnap of two SAS officers

Then three British soldiers were killed by roadside bombs and Brigadier John Lorimer, the eighth brigade commander in Basra in two years, decided to act. On 17 September an SAS detachment infiltrated Fartosi’s home and arrested him. Two days later two SAS officers on patrol were kidnapped. Fairweather describes in detail the complex standoff which then followed as several sets of British officials ascertained that the two soldiers had been taken to the notorious Jamiat police station. When British officials went to the station they were themselves promptly arrested and detained. Negotiations involved an Iraqi judge, and an increasing battery of coalition lawyers and officers. The negotiators were themselves hustled at gunpoint to the cells where the two soldiers were being kept, as fighting broke out at the front of the police station, with Iraqi police officers who the British had spent time and money training now opening fire on British forces. British relief forces were surrounded by angry crowds throwing bricks and a succession of Warrior vehicles were set on fire.

Sergeant Long escaping from his Warrior armoured vehicle after a petrol bomb was thrown down the gun turret (source: Reuters)

Eventually the SAS men and the other Brit hostages were rescued by an attack by SAS men who were brought all the way from the regiment’s HQ at Herefordshire to help them. The political fallout was threefold. 1) Pictures of George Long on fire escaping from his Warrior tank covered the front pages of British newspapers alongside articles claiming the British softly-softly police in Basra was a shambles. 2) More specifically, it revealed that the entire concept of training the Iraqi police force which politicians from Blair downwards had put such emphasis on, was in fact a sham. 3) The Shia governor, Muhammed al-Waeli, forced to take sides, came down on the side of his Shia constituency, accused the Brits of terrorism, led a tour of the now devastated police station, and declared he would never have anything to do with the Brits again.

Fairweather is outstanding at giving detailed forensic accounts of this kind of event (compare his description of the murder of the military police at Majar al-Kabir).

Chapter 21. Helmand

7/7 suicide bombers

On 7 July 2005 four British Muslims carrying backpacks full of explosives detonated them on London Underground trains and a bus. These were the first suicide bombs on British soil. They killed 52 and injured over 700. In a pre-recorded video one of the bombers described his motivation as revenge for all the innocent Muslims the British Army was killing in Iraq and Afghanistan. So much for our invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan making Britain safer. The exact opposite.

But when news came out that the men had been trained at terrorist training camps on the Pakistan-Afghan border, government spin doctors turned it into a justification for deploying British troops to Afghanistan.

In September 2005 Lieutenant General Rob Fry, the individual most responsible for the plan to deploy to Helmand, presented John Reid with the MoD’s plans to deploy 3,150 troops, mostly drawn from the Parachute Regiment. British forces would take over an American base named Camp Bastion in the desert north-west of the province’s capital, Lashkar Gah. He promised that Taliban fighters crossing from Pakistan would be easy to identify and eliminate. ‘The senior SIS men in the room rolled their eyes’ (p.225). Brigadier Ed Butler was chosen to command the force.

Fairweather shows the gulf between the top of the army (Fry and Chief of the General Staff Sir Mike Jackson) who assured sceptical politicians that it could be managed as long as the Brits withdrew their forces from southern Iraq at the same speed that they deployed them to Helmand – and many of the officers on the ground who thought it was madness. Defence Secretary John Reid was sceptical. ‘Won’t British troops be isolated and exposed?’ he asked (p.225). Fry assured him not. Reid was right. Fry was way wrong.

Split command

Right from the start it was ballsed up. The British formed part of a NATO force commanded by the Canadians. Because the Canadian force was being commanded by a brigadier, army etiquette demanded that Butler step aside to allow a more junior officer to command his men, and so Colonel Charlie Knaggs became commander of the British deployment. This meant Butler would have to oversee operations from Kabul. Then he discovered his headquarters would not be doing the operational planning but that a staff officer from army headquarters in Northwood would be drawing up the crucial operational plan.

Crucially, Butler would only have four Chinook helicopters at his disposal, barely enough to support one offensive mission a month and, it would prove, not nearly enough to extract British soldiers from the umpteen dangerous contact situations they were going to get into.

After the Jamiat police station siege, senior officers considered advising against the deployment, realising that the situation in south Iraq was far worse than previously understood, and would entail a much slower withdrawal than planned but they never made their opposition clear enough.

Sher Mohammed Akhundzada

Before the troops arrived the Brits made another mistake. UK ambassador to Kabul, Rosalind Marsden, persuaded president Hamid Karzai, to remove the province’s long-time governor, Sher Mohammed Akhundzada. He was notorious for rape, murder and involvement in the drugs trade, so getting rid of him played to press releases about Tony Blair’s counter narcotics policy. Unfortunately, Muhammed may have been a criminal but he was the only person with the contacts and authority to keep a lid on the province. Later, he cheerfully told British officers that, removed from his position of influence and no longer able to pay them, he let his 3,000-strong fighting force defect en masse to the Taliban. At a stroke the Brits made violent conflict inevitable and created a huge opposition force. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. That motto should be carved on Tony Blair’s tombstone.

Fairweather describes the efforts of the chief planner Gordon Messenger and development experts to assess the province, their dismay at the illiteracy and corruption of the Afghan administrators and police they met, and their equal dismay at the ignorance about Helmand displayed by British politicians and army staff. The politicians had assigned the army a three-year deployment. Development expert Minna Jarvenpaa said it would take ten years, probably longer, to begin to develop such a place (p.233). Politicians didn’t want to hear. No-one listened.

Details of the deployment were announced in January 2006, just in time for a conference of Afghan donors’ which Tony Blair was chairing. John Reid declared we were going to spend three years in the south of Afghanistan, bringing peace and security and helping the locals reconstruct their country. None of this was to happen.

Gil Baldwin, head of the Post Conflict Reconstruction Unit resigned in disgust, saying it beggared belief that Britain was preparing to go into Afghanistan even worse prepared then it had been for Iraq (p.234).

Chapter 22

Introduces us to the first soldiers to deploy to Afghanistan including Will Pike and Harvey Pynn of the Third Parachute regiment, 3 Para. This part of the narrative exactly matches the account of 3 Para’s time in Helmand (April to October 2006) given by Patrick Bishop in his rip-roaring soldier’s eye view of endless firefights in ‘3 Para’.

Fairweather repeats the surprising fact that, of the 3,500 British troops being deployed, all but 600 were support staff, engineers, cooks, drivers, quartermasters, ammunition handlers and so on. Governor Daoud wanted the Brits to deploy to protect towns in the north of the province from the Taliban. Butler was reluctant but agreed to support local Afghan army units. Development consultant Minna Jarvenpaa knew the tribal situation around Sangin was complicated with the town divided between two tribes, and both involved in rival drug operations.

In May 2006 Daoud sent the British commander, Charlie Knaggs, a desperate message that the district centre in the town of Naw Zad was being attacked by Taliban forces. A force of Paras is despatched, who were later replaced by Gurkhas. Soon Daoud was asking British troops to protect other towns and the Americans asked them to bolster the small force protecting the important Kajaki Dam. Step by step the Brits were forced into abandoning the initial plan of securing a relatively small area bounded by Camp Bastion, Geresh and Lashkar Gah in the south, and instead found their forces scattered thinly across half a dozen outposts which came under increasingly fierce attack.

Far from being a gentle peacekeeping and reconstruction exercise, the deployment was turning into a full scale war against the Taliban. Fairweather is brilliant at conveying the complex political cross-currents which led to the decisions, and the shambolic last-minute way they were carried out.

Will Pike led the deployment to the northern outpost of Sangin. As the Paras set about fortifying the district centre a delegation of town elders came and asked them to leave. They knew the Taliban would attack. They knew it would develop into a siege of attrition. They knew their town would be badly damaged. They were right on all three counts, but Pike had to turn them down. So much for listening to the locals, democracy etc. Instead of peace, the Brits brought war and destruction wherever they went.

Days later the Sangin district centre was hit, 3 killed 3 badly injured. If Butler had been in Camp Bastion maybe he’d have changed his mind but he was in Kabul where his job had evolved into trying to manage Governor Daoud and his master, Afghan president Karzai. So he overruled his junior officers’ concerns and the troops remained in Sangin in what developed into a relentless, daily barrage from the surrounding Taliban.

Already it was clear the critics had been right: a) the deployment to Afghanistan was too small; b) it had truckled to political pressure and spread its forces too thinly; c) it wasn’t going to be a peacekeeping deployment but a full-on conflict.

Chapter 23. Counterinsurgency in Iraq

Fairweather’s account of the revolution in military doctrine brought about by General David Petraeus who tries to re-orient the US Army approach from a ‘capture and kill the bad guys’ approach to a more imaginative deployment of counterinsurgency doctrine. The Americans referred to the British Army’s experience in the Malaya ’emergency’ i.e. how it handled an insurgency by revolutionary communist guerrillas. The main thing is to shift the goal from capturing or killing insurgents to winning over the general population by ensuring security. This shift in thinking is the central theme of Thomas E Ricks’s two books, Fiasco and The Gamble.

I believed all this until I read Frank Ledwidge’s devastating book, Losing Small Wars. There he points out two fundamental factors which the counterinsurgency proponents didn’t take into account. In Malaya, as later in Northern Ireland, a) there was one government whose fundamental legitimacy the majority of the population didn’t question; and there was b) an effective, impartial, well trained police force. Neither of these factors was present in Iraq or Afghanistan. On the contrary the ‘governments’ of both countries were deeply contested by large parts of the population, were widely seen as corrupt and parti pris; and the police forces in both countries were bywords for corruption and backsliding i.e. running away or turning their guns on their supposed Western allies whenever it came to a fight.

As the redeployment to Helmand began to be thought through, officers in Basra came under pressure to speed up the process of handing over responsibility to the Iraqi police and army. Only problem being, they were often corrupt and ineffective. Didn’t matter:

The army leadership was preparing to dispense with its commitment to create a competent Iraqi security force in the name of political expediency. (p.251)

Security in Basra was collapsing. The News of the World published a video of British soldiers beating detainees which triggered 48 rocket and mortars fired at the Abu Naji camp. Sectarian strife increased. A Sunni cleric was killed and new corpses turned up every day.

In January 2006 a further round of elections were held. Now, after weeks of horse trading, following the elections, Shia politician Nouri al-Maliki was finally appointed Prime Minister. He hated the British. British forces had arrested his grandfather in a 1920 Shia uprising. He saw the British presence as a continuation of its old imperial ambitions. On his first visit to Basra he told the British authorities he didn’t want to meet them.

Fairweather gives an illuminating account of the Ministry of Defence and army’s notorious problems with commissioning the right kit and equipment. While the army spent hundreds of millions on hi-tech, computerised gewgaws to fight the next world war, it neglected basic transport vehicles solid enough to resist improvised explosive devices.

Six month rotations ensured that just as each set of officers and men was coming to know the people and the job, it was rotated back to the UK and a completely new set came in. These were often led by a commanding officer determined to ignore everything his predecessor had done and implement his own pet theories. This was a recipe for inconsistency and incoherence. Fairweather cites the replacement of the bullish General Shireff with the scholarly General Jonathan Shaw in January 2007 (p.302).

He has an upsetting passage about post-traumatic stress disorder and the inadequate care the army takes of its psychiatrically damaged veterans. American studies suggest that 15% of veterans will suffer PTSD (p.256). The poor care for the physically wounded veterans at the Selly Oak hospital in Birmingham caused a scandal in the media (p.281). The scandal was to lead to the establishment of the extremely successful Help for Heroes charity (note, p.393).

The entire policy of withdrawing from south Iraq in order to redeploy to Afghanistan was thrown into doubt when the Brits handed over the main base in Muthanna province to the local security services then, a few days later, a crowd of several hundred assembled and stormed the base, the Iraqi security forces melting away as they were wont to do, whereupon the mob stripped the base of all the expensive equipment, looting all the arms and equipment the Americans had stocked it with. Farce (p.270).

In August British forces handed over Camp Abu Naji outside Amarah to local security forces. Within an hour word had spread, a few hours later a mob had assembled, and a few hours after that the crowd entered the base and comprehensively sacked and looted it. After spending £80 million trying to reconstruct the province the British were leaving it in the worst possible state. A ‘debacle’ and ‘fiasco’, the loss of Abu Naji brought the British army’s reputation among the Americans to a new low.

6 September 2006

The dreadful day when four Paras defending the Kajaki Dam in Helmand got caught in a minefield, one fatality, three terrible injuries and the heroism of Chinook pilot Mark Hammond who flew sorties not only to the dam, but to Sangin and Musa Qaleh, too (p.275). In fact it was only a week later that the elders of Musa Qaleh came to Butler and brokered a ceasefire deal between him and the Taliban. Both sides would withdraw and fighting would cease. An eerie quiet descended over the battletorn town which had been badly damaged during 6 months of fighting. The British talked about reconstruction but brought only destruction.

Meanwhile in Basra new commander, Genera Richard Shireff proposed a bold new plan of increasing his force and embarking on a policy of clearing the city neighbourhood by neighbourhood of the JAM, handing it over to Iraqi police to hold and then civilian experts to deliver high impact development projects. Of course none of this ever happened. He could never get enough British troops and the Iraqi police were useless. After some civilian contractors were killed Margaret Beckett ordered the entire DFID contingent to leave Basra Palace base and be evacuated to Kuwait.

Back to the story of Haider the interpreter. He has married his sweetheart, Nora, and had a baby. Now he is thunderstruck to be told by his sympathetic boss, William Kearney, that the security firm is pulling out of Basra. Haider is going to lose his job and become more exposed to the JAM thugs who want to kill him for working with the infidel.

Chapter 28 The Surge, 2007

General Petraeus and retired general Jack Keane lobbied and persuaded president Bush not to quit and withdraw from a ruined Iraq but to take a gamble and increase troop numbers, by 30,000, the famous ‘surge’. General Casey was replaced by Petraeus as commander in chief.

The so-called Surge coincided with the so-called Sunni Awakening which was when Sunni tribes finally sickened of being threatened and dominated by al Qaeda militias. Delicate negotiations persuaded many Sunni tribes to accept American money and support to take on the terrorist group.

Baghdad had now become the epicentre of the civil war between Sunni and Shia, with mass ethnic cleansing, 200 deaths a week, and concrete walls separating ethnic neighbourhoods. Fairweather mentions the role of British civilian and pacifist Emma Sky as an unlikely adviser to hulking American general Ray Ordieno (pages 292 to 296).

Detailed description of the negotiations initiated by British General Graeme Lamb and James Simonds to convert Sunni militia leader Abu Azzam over to the Coalition side, with a mixture of flattery, promises of jobs and money for his 1,000-strong militia. The central achievement of Emma Sky in making friends with a female member of Maliki’s cabinet, Basima al-Jadiri and from then onwards keeping lines of communication open between the coalition commander and stroppy Maliki (p.298).

The Brits had been working through the latter half of 2006 towards finally withdrawing from Basra, deceiving themselves about the readiness of the Iraqi security forces to take over, or that Shireff’s policy of clearing neighbourhoods was working. But just as the withdrawal began to be implemented the Americans were embarking on the exact opposite policy, bringing in more troops as part of their Surge. In this context British policy looked more than ever like running away.

The British were under pressure to look tough and so undertook daring missions, including seizing Jaish al-Mahdi leaders. At the same time they sought interlocutors to negotiate a peace with. Most important was to be the leader of Jaish al-Mahdi in Basra, Ahmed al-Fartosi, who they had arrested and imprisoned three years before, and whose arrest led to the reprisal kidnapping of the two SAS men.

The British made him a simple offer: call off militia attacks and in return the British would cease patrolling the city and release his imprisoned cadres on cohorts. The clincher was telling Fartosi he had to take the deal in order to get his men freed and enrolled in the security services before Iranian agents and politicians took over. Fartosi was Shia, fanatical Shia, he had taken money and arms from Iran – but drew the line at letting Iran take over his patch.

These are the kinds of subtleties or complexities created by ethnic, religious, tribal, warlord and gangland allegiances which the coalition failed to get to terms with. Emma Sky is described trying to persuade Ray Ordieno that he needed to stop lumping all opposition groups as al Qaeda or Ba’athists or ‘insurgents’ and learn to distinguish between them. Only then could the coalition figure out what they wanted and even start to find negotiated, political solutions to the chaos.

June 2007

Gordon Brown became Prime Minister after Tony Blair stepped down as Labour Party leader. According to Fairweather everyone in Whitehall and the military knew that Brown regarded Iraq as Blair’s folly and had no interest in throwing good money after bad. He wanted all British troops withdrawn as soon as reasonably possible. As always, politics. When the army staff told Brown cutting and running would infuriate the Americans Brown said ‘good’. In Britain, and further afield (in the European countries which were always against the war) it would draw a stark line between Brown and his predecessor, and win him kudos for standing up to the Yanks. Army planners at the British military command centre in Northwood drew up five withdrawal scenarios. Brown unhesitatingly chose the quickest (p.315).

Some top brass thought a rapid withdrawal would make the British public question the sacrifice made so far. But in the three months during which Blair had extended the British occupation to mollify the Americans, 11 more British soldiers had been killed. The opposite line was that the British had fought shoulder to shoulder with the Americans for four bloody years and enough was enough.

The Brits released Fartosi’s deputy, other detainees and complied with their side of the bargain to halt all patrols in Basra. However violent attacks continued, with relentless bombarding of the British HQ in Basra Palace. American command in Baghdad gave the British senior officers who came to explain their withdrawal timetable short shrift. As the Brits claimed that Basra’s police force was ready to enforce security, American officers laughed.

In August 2007 the deal with Fartosi began and he was given a small office in the the base prison complete with phone and fax machine. From here he organised a complete ceasefire and an uneasy calm fell over Basra. On 3 September the British commander handed over security governance to the Iraqi government general assigned the job, and 600 soldiers left Basra Palace in a convoy of Warriors, armoured cars, lorries piled high with office furniture. They drove the ten miles to Basra airport. The idea is a residual force would stay there for up to a year to continue to train Iraqi army and police force. The JAM militia held wild celebrations at the ‘liberation’ of their city.

Story of Haider the interpreter, continued

Since the start of the year a number of interpreters had been executed by the militias. Terrifying story of him attending his brother-in-law’s wedding procession of twenty or so cars when it was intercepted by trucks with no plates, armed men leapt out, ran across to the car which contained Haider and his wife but grabbed Nora’s cousin by mistake, hauled him out of the car, threw him in the trucks, and roared off while the women screamed and wept. Next day the cousin’s corpse is found with a scrap of paper telling Haider to ring a mobile phone number. Haider’s wife’s uncle, Ali, arranges for him to flee to Iran with a fake passport and a little money. Then the militiamen kidnap Ali and call Haider, saying he must return or Ali will be murdered.

Haider makes a plan, to return to Basra, collect his family and go to the British base. Gordon Brown had announced a fast track visa process for Iraqi interpreters. He takes a minivan cab and collects his wife, mother, sister and three brothers but when they get to the British base, security won’t let them through.

Anyway, it turns into a real odyssey. They walk to a gas station where an old geezer has a taxi. Haider tells them they’re refugees and the old guy takes them home and lets them sleep in his apartment. But next morning he starts getting suspicious. Haider’s contact inside the British base tells him the precise paperwork he needs, but it involves getting an old style Iraqi passport which will take ages.

Haider has a brainwave and rings up a doctor he knew at medical school. Reluctantly, the doctor agrees to house them all in a spare room in his clinic, knowing he’s risking reprisals from the militia. Haider has a phone so he rings his old boss and friend William Kearney. Kearney jumps into action ringing round contacts to get Haider’s paperwork approved asap. He commissions a journalist to write a piece about the plight of interpreters and he even – and at this point we start to realise why we’ve been hearing so much about this poor man – arranges for Haider to do an interview with Radio 4’s Today programme, from the spare room at the clinic where he’s in hiding. Atmosphere of Anne Frank’s loft. Every time they heard footsteps in the corridor they froze in fear.

There are more hurdles to jump through, judges to be bribed, paperwork to be secured, relations pressed into running round the city getting the right documents. After a week they take another cab to the British base but Haider is now told that his brothers and sister aren’t eligible. He loses his rag.

When the British had needed him he had risked his life, but when he needed their help all he got was red tape. (p.326)

And now, 16 years later, the same treatment dished out to Afghan interpreters fleeing the Taliban. What a disgraceful, disgusting country Britain is.

Abandoning Basra

So the British abandoned Basra and the Shia militia took over, quickly intimidating the Iraqi police into staying in their stations, while black hooded armed men patrolled the streets, hitting women who weren’t properly covered and embarking on a campaign of murder and extortion. The Iraqi Way. A British officer, Colonel Andy Bristow, helps the new Iraqi governor of Basra, General Mohan al-Faraji, but quickly realises the deal with Fartosi to allow us to leave in peace, effectively undermined the police i.e. bankrupted the whole reason for us being there in the first place. When Mohan found out the British had gone behind his back to do a deal with the head of the militia to release back onto the streets over 1,000 criminal detainees, he was apoplectic.

It was just the sort of double-dealing the British were infamous for during their colonial days. (p.330)

On 31 December 2007 Fartosi himself was finally released from prison and within days (January 2008) war broke out between Jaish al-Mahdi and Mohan’s police force. The British base itself came under sustained mortar attack. The deal with Fartosi had failed. Not only that but the situation in Helmand was deteriorating, Ceasefires with local Taliban commanders had failed and the fighting was fiercer than ever. The army desperately needed to move its Basra forces to Helmand.

Fairweather then gives a typically detailed account of the way the new advisor to General Mohan, the Brit Colonel Richard Iron, conceives a plan to deliver a US-style surge but just to Basra. As mentor to Mohan he is outside the British chain of command and so a) gets Mohan to present it as a request to the Basra commander, something the Brits are meant to help with, b) schmoozes with the Americans in Baghdad who love it. Petraeus is won over and the Yanks begin making plans to send troops to help the meagre British presence from the air base.

BUT. At one of these co-ordination meetings everyone is stunned to learn that Prime Minister Nouri al-Malaki, having been briefed about it some weeks before, has taken the bull by the horns, and ordered his own surge in Basra, using native Iraqi troops!

Long story short: the Iraqi army took on the Jaish al-Mahdi in Basra and won! Over 6,000 Iraqi troops marched on Basra and Maliki himself flew in to supervise. To begin with it was chaos, with Iraqi units disintegrating or being blown to pieces by the heavily armed and motivated JAMsters. But the Americans couldn’t allow this to fail and so diverted troops and planes south to join the fight. The British administrator on the ground was humiliatingly denied entrance to meetings between Maliki and the American commander in chief. Maliki blamed the British for letting Basra sink to this level. The American military no longer trusted the Brits to do anything. Anyway, bureaucracy and reluctance to overturn the withdrawal plans meant only a handful of British officers were available. The Iraqis and Americans got on without them. National embarrassment. Humiliation.

Meanwhile Mohan was sacked and a new Iraqi commander put in place. American General Flynn told British brigade headquarters he’d flown in to stop the Brits failing again. Fairweather calls it ‘a damning indictment’ and laments ‘Britain’s battered reputation’. The senior British officers hung their heads in shame (p.337).

Then, to everyone’s surprise, there was a ceasefire. Unknown to the Brits or Yanks Maliki had sent delegations to the Iranian city of Qom to ask al-Sadr and the commander of the Iranian al-Quds Force to broker a ceasefire. Maliki knew that the Iranians had a vested interest in seeing him re-elected, as a moderate Shia Prime Minister, whereas defeat in Basra risked plunging the south into chaos and also triggering a resurgence of Sunni resistance. On balance it was in Iranian interests to rein in their proxies. So The message came back to Fartosi to cease fire. The guns fell silent. The Jaish al-Mahdi forces disappeared. Fartosi and other notorious leaders left Iraq altogether.

A few days later Iraqi forces occupied all the Jaish al-Mahdi strongholds. The insurgency in Basra was over and it had nothing to do with the Brits or the Americans but backroom deals between Middle Eastern players. In an ironic way it was a triumph because it showed that normal Middle Eastern politics, with all its corruption and sectarian horsetrading, had been restored.

But there was nothing the British C-in-C, Brigadier Julian Free, could do ‘to restore American faith in British competence’ (p.339).

Epilogue: summer 2011

In Fairweather’s view the retaking of Basra was a watershed. The Iraqi army then retook Amara (where Sergeant Danny Mills and his sniper platoon had such a torrid time in 2006) and routed Jaish al-Mahdi from Baghdad.

In the January 2009 provincial elections Maliki’s party defeated Sadrist politicians (i.e. politicians loyal to Muqtada al-Sadr). Maybe it was even some kind of democracy. A very corrupt form of democracy, Iraq sits on the fourth largest oil reserves in the world. Fortunes are made by politicians with fingers in the pie. Leaked documents and other evidence show the Iraqi police force settling back into old Saddam methods of arbitrary arrest and gruesome torture.

In Iraq’s March 2010 elections the slippery old chancer Ayad Allawi won the popular vote, with the backing of Saudi Arabia, because he is a Sunni Muslim. (On a simple geopolitical level, Iraqi politics are riddled with the rivalry between Sunni Saudi Arabia to the south and Shia Iran to the east). However, in the backroom horsetrading Iran leaned on Muqtada al-Sadr to get his supporters to support Maliki who therefore re-emerged as Prime Minister in November 2010 (serving till 2014).

Through the summer of 2009 the British troops left Basra airbase. In total more than 120,000 British soldiers served in Iraq. As many as 15% of them might be expected to suffer mental illness as a consequence i.e. 18,000. 179 British personnel died, 5,970 were injured. Best guesses are that in the region of 100,000 Iraqis lost their lives.

Fairweather’s figures are that the war cost roughly £1 billion a year, total about £8 billion. Fairweather injects a political note (remember he wrote for the Daily Telegraph, what is now a very right-wing newspaper):

As schools go unbuilt in the UK, hospitals close, and tens of thousands of teachers, nurses, soldiers and policemen lose their jobs, the Iraq war has become a symbol of the profligacy and waste of the New Labour government. (p.344)

As to Afghanistan, in 2009 the Americans were forced to intervene as the British, yet again, lost control of the situation, sending a surge of 30,000 US troops to retake the province from the resurgent Taliban. The economy is still dirt poor. And there is no educated middle class to provide administrators and politicians.

As of summer 2011, 374 British service personnel had died in Helmand, 1,608 had been injured, 493 seriously. More than 10,000 Afghans had died. Gordon Brown estimated the war cost Britain £10 billion.

And Haider the interpreter, the Iraqi who Fairweather uses as a kind of barometer of Britain’s failing efforts in Basra? At the time of writing he lived in Hull, in accommodation provided by the British government, with his wife and two children. He’d like to return to Iraq but is still scared to.

The blame

As you’d expect, Fairweather holds Tony Blair chiefly to account for committing Britain to two wars it couldn’t win – but he’s harsher on the army. Senior generals gave consistently poor advice and the army as a whole was guilty of institutional failings, most importantly it’s continually over-optimistic predictions, its wrong assessments of the situation in both Iraq and Afghanistan, its insistence it could carry out both deployments with what quickly became clear were inadequate men and resources. In both places they ignored the well-informed warnings of experts in the field.

Most tellingly, senior officials at the MoD and armed services have come to see war as a way of maintaining their budgets. Fairweather wonders if the fact that this is the only way the MoD can secure adequate funding explains why Britain’s armed forces have been in conflict almost continuously for the past 15 years.

Short-termism. All kinds of delusions led planners to think a 3-year deployment to Helmand would be enough. The average length of a counter-insurgency campaign is 14 years. Proper state building takes even longer. Either commit, or don’t intervene.

Summary

This is an outstanding chronological history of Britain’s deployment to Iraq and Afghanistan. Fairweather not only explains the complex political and financial realities at work in the British government and the fraught relationship with our American ‘allies’, but switches scene and focus with extraordinary confidence.

He gives what must surely be definitive accounts of specific firefights and battles (his 5 pages describing the murder of the six military police is exemplary) but he is just as confident describing conversations between the top power players, be they Yanks like Rumsfeld, Rice and Bremer, or Brits like Blair, Brown and Campbell.

And his narrative introduces us to an extraordinarily wide range of named individuals through whose stories and eyes we get really insider insights into every aspect of the situation, from Brits appalled at decisions in Whitehall or the chaos of the CPA, through the civilian governors struggling to control their provinces, to the experiences of scores of officers and men involved in fierce firefights on the ground.

It’s a panoramic, encyclopedic account. It really is outstanding.


P.S. A study in ignorance

Seen from another angle, this excellent book a study in several types of stupidity and ignorance.

The obvious, easy-to-see kind of ignorance, is how everyone involved in the planning and implementation of the quick invasion of Iraq in March 2003 and then the painfully slow, ineffective ‘reconstruction’ of the ruined country, had poor-to-zero grasp of the reality of Iraqi society, politics and culture. That was obvious to anyone with a brain before the war started, and became obvious to people without a brain, eventually even to the American neoconservatives who had planned and launched the war, as the years went by and their efforts became evermore expensive and futile.

The less obvious kind of ignorance is a fundamental premise of this blog and my worldview, which is that we don’t understand our own society or our selves. In his 2015 book, ‘The Soul of the Marionette’, John Gray explains that there will never be true artificial intelligence because nobody understands what human intelligence is. Sure, we can define and measure numerous aspects of intelligence like solving complex maths problems or winning at chess, but the full package of what makes a human being human, the complex interplay of calculation, hunch, guesswork, emotion and intuition – nobody understands it, how it works, let alone how it is produced by the brain.

So if we don’t understand what intelligence is, how can we artificially create it? We may be able to produce computer programs which solve problems faster than any human, and are able to teach themselves better and better techniques etc, and can answer any question plausibly, but it will never be anything like human intelligence, and those who think so are fools.

Same with democracy. Simpletons like George W Bush and Tony Blair thought all you had to do was overthrow a dictator and organise some cobbled-together elections, and you’d have yourself a functioning democracy. What this imbecile level of naivety shows is not so much that neither of them had a clue about Arab or Muslim societies, and about Iraq in particular (which they didn’t, and which this book demonstrates at humiliating and embarrassing length) – what it showed is they hadn’t a clue about how our own democratic societies work.

1. The civic basis of democracy

They didn’t have a clue about their own political evolution: about the very long history, the centuries-long evolution, through trial and error and revolutions and civil wars, and the taming of religion and the controlling of aristocracies and oligarchies, and the campaigns of working class parties and trade unions and then the long struggle for women’s suffrage – which lie behind the present form of the far-from-perfect, so-called ‘democracies’ which operate in the USA and UK.

2. The Christian basis of democracy

And that’s without going into the huge part of the story derived from religion: the slow evolution of Christianity with its emphasis on the value of the individual, through the overthrow of Catholic ideology at the Reformation, and the Protestant Revolution which ushered in new ideas about the individual, about individual agency, responsibility, rights and duties, which had to be painfully thrashed out during centuries of civil war and political turmoil, the overthrow of kings, the grudging allowance of limited forms of religious tolerance in Britain the late 17th century, which struggled against the odds throughout the 18th and inspired the American revolutionaries to their clear statement of principles in the American constitution. There’s no evidence of this kind of huge, conceptual, long-term evolution taking place in the political-religious ideology of modern Islam. The opposite: reactionary forms of Islam have been on the rise throughout the Middle East since the Iranian revolution of 1979.

3. The economic basis of democracy

And all that is without going into the economic history which lies behind our democratic societies, whose development paralleled the political, religious and philosophical strands. Modern progressives are keen to attribute the rise of the West to ruthless exploitation, to the profits from the Atlantic slave trade and the rapacity of European imperialism. The older, traditional school of history attributed ‘the rise of the West’ to a huge range of intellectual inventions, from the establishment of the Bank of England and a national debt, through the invention of copyright and business law which created incentives for innovators and inventors, to the inventors themselves who devised the seed drill or the steam engine among thousands of other world-changing technologies (ideas handily summarised in Niall Ferguson’s Civilization: The West and the Rest).

However you combine these and other elements to explain ‘the Rise of the West’, there’s no denying that Britain, most of the other European nations, and then America and Japan, represent a level of legal, social and technological achievement which far outranks the other 180 or so nations on earth.

Neo-con delusions

Now do you get a sense of the depth of the ignorance of the American neo-cons and their poodle, Tony? They thought overthrowing a dictator and getting his dazed population to line up at voting booths would be it, job done, creation of ‘democracy’. They thought creating an unstable government and holding a few phoney elections amounted to ‘nation building’ and stood any chance at all of transforming Iraq in a few short months into a beacon of peace, plenty and democracy for the rest of the Middle East to follow.

That’s what George Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Douglas Feith and their supporters thought would happen. Surely the word ‘imbecile’ isn’t forceful enough to describe this level of fatuous ignorance – not only about what Iraqi society was like, but about what makes their own country tick – about what makes the 20 or so developed western nations what they are, and why this unique religious, philosophical, legal, cultural, social, economic and technological history can’t just be bundled up into vacuum packs, flown into a developing country in the holds of Hercules transport planes and handed out to cheering crowds like bottled water. What morons!


Credit

A War of Choice: Honour, Hubris and Sacrifice: The British in Iraq by Jack Fairweather was published by Jonathan Cape in 2012. References are to the 2012 paperback edition.

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The War of Running Dogs by Noel Barber (1971)

‘I always had a great deal of time for Chin Peng. He was by far the most intelligent of all the Communists, calm, polite, very friendly – in fact almost like a British officer.’
(Senior District Officer and Chin’s escort to the 1955 peace talks, John Davis)

There are several basic facts about Malaya which you need to grasp in order to understand the so-called ‘Malayan Emergency’ (1948 to 1960).

British Malaya

Malaya was never a unified nation. ‘British Malaya’ (1896 to 1946) consisted of the Federated and Unfederated Malay States. The Federated states were four protected states in the Malay Peninsula – Selangor, Perak, Negeri Sembilan and Pahang – established by the British government in 1896, which were British protectorates run by their own local rulers. The Unfederated Malay States was the collective name given to five British protected states, namely Johor, Kedah, Kelantan, Perlis, and Terengganu. Unlike the federates states, the unfederated states lacked common institutions and didn’t form a single state in international law. They were standalone British protectorates. In addition, there were the Straits Settlements, established in 1896 and consisting of the settlements of Penang, Singapore, Malacca, and Dinding, to which were later added the Christmas Island and the Cocos Islands.

After the war, in 1946, the British colony of the Straits Settlements was dissolved. Penang and Malacca which had formed a part of the Straits Settlements were then grouped together with the Unfederated and Federated Malay States to form the new Malayan Union.

Map of Malaya 1952 to 1954 © Monash Asia Institute, from the Cambridge University Press book ‘Templer and the Road to Malayan Independence

Racial heterogeneity

Of the population of about 6 million, 40% were Malay, almost as many were Chinese, and the remainder Indians, Europeans or other.

The three non-European communities – Malay, Chinese and Indian – had different traditions, religions, languages, cultures and tended to cluster round different professions and occupations. For example, the sultans of each of the states was Malay, as was his court and advisers, whereas a high proportion of the country’s successful businessmen were Chinese.

There were some 12,000 British, consisting of the Malayan Civil Service, policemen, rubber planters, tin miners, doctors and businessmen.

Following the Second World War, in 1946 the British authorities announced a new administrative structure named the Malayan Union, which aimed to distribute power and influence among the three main ethnic groups, Malays, Chinese and Indians. This prompted an outcry and mass opposition, particularly from Malays who saw their influence diminish in what they considered their own country, as well as objections to other implications of the plan.

Protests led to the formation of the United Malays National Organisation which organised a campaign of civil disobedience, boycotting council meetings and so on. Bowing to pressure the British authorities scrapped the Malayan Union and in 1948 replaced it with the Federation of Malaya, consisting of states ruled by sultans as British protectorates i.e. with British advisers, with Penang and Malaca defined as colonies, and Singapore given separate and unique status.

Chinese communists

The 1948 reorganisation took power away from the Chinese community which made up about a third of the population and which responded with negative newspaper articles and political action. Distinct from the Chinese community as a whole (which included many rich and influential businessmen) was the relatively small Malay Communist Party, almost entirely staffed by Chinese. Many of these communists had fought alongside British irregular forces in guerrilla campaigns against the Japanese after the Japanese captured Malaya in 1942, in fact many of them had been armed and trained and served in Force 136.

The post-war authorities were able to monitor the activities of the Malay Communist Party for the simple reason that its leader, Lai Teck, was a British double agent. However, in 1947, his cover was blown and Lai absconded (taking the party’s disposable cash with him).

His replacement, Chin Peng, aged 26, son of a bicycle repairshop owner, was more ruthless and cunning. Barber’s book explains all this background and then describes the crucial Communist Party meeting held in a remote jungle location in Pahang, the largest state, in May 1948 (that pivotal year in the Cold War).

During the war many of the party’s members had fought a jungle insurgency as part of what was called the Malayan People’s Anti-Japanese Army, led by British army officers. Now, simply by changing one word, it became the Malayan People’s Anti-British Army. Many of the members, their arms, training and tactics remained exactly the same, but now they were dedicated to kicking out what they saw as just another colonial occupier and oppressor. In an irony which escaped no-one, many of the new communist terrorists (CTs) were fighting officers and men they had previously fought alongside against the Japanese.

Chin Peng divided his army up into two parts: the armed force of 5,000 fighters, organised up into nominal regiments, but in fact broken down into attack units of as little as half a dozen men, to be distributed around the country, based in the jungle near the network of arms caches they’d helped establish during the war. The second part was the Min Yuen, meaning ‘Masses Movement’, consisting of hundreds of thousands of normal everyday citizens who would operate on every level of Malay life, as waiters in British clubs, clerks in government offices, as schoolteachers, newspaper reporters and so on (p.37) who would supply the active army with food, money and information.

The primary aim was to sow terror, pure fear, among the British colonial community and its native assistants and workers (collaborators, in the communist view). As the campaign spread, Chin intended for the European community to become demoralised and increasingly enfeebled while the tentacles of the Min Yuen spread at all levels of Chinese society until it was so powerful and numerous that a communist revolution became inevitable.

Barber details Chin’s three-phase plan:

Phase one

Guerillas attack isolated planters, tin mines, police and government officials, creating a climate of fear, forcing these scattered Europeans to abandon the country and seek the cities for safety.

Phase two

Areas abandoned by the British would be named ‘Liberated Areas’ and become the settings for guerrilla bases. The army’s numbers would be increased by recruits from the Min Yuen.

Phase three

Moving out from their bases in the Liberated Areas, the expanded army would attack towns and infrastructure, roads and railway, electricity and water supplies, while the Min Yuen sabotaged urban services. The expanded guerrilla army, supported by China or Russia, would confront the weakened and demoralised imperial forces in a final revolutionary struggle.

What is notable about all this is that the communists were overwhelmingly Chinese, relied on the active support of part of the Chinese community, and expected the revolution to come with help from China, and yet… the Chinese made up a distinct minority of the Malay population. As you might expect, the largest element of Malaya’s population was Malay. And lots of the plantations and other businesses the communists targeted were staffed by Indians, especially Tamils.

The use of terror

Barber views the Malay Communist Party campaign through the teachings of Lenin and Mao. Lenin had written that, through the application of terror, a well-organised minority could take over a country (p.36). Mao had written extensively about the organisation and strategy necessary for a peasant army taking on a larger, better-funded, full-time army. Be mobile and flexible. If you meet resistance, withdraw.

To spread fear you practice murder with maximum cruelty. Barber doesn’t hold back on his descriptions. The emergency is commonly dated from the murder of three British planters, two at one plantation, the other at a nearby one, on the same day, 16 June 1948. He goes on to describe, in detail, the CTs’ tactics and types of attacks: they crept up on native Malay or Tamil tappers (the workers who tapped the rubber trees), captured them and slit their throats like farm animals. They seized workers and chopped off their arms with the large Malay knife. They regularly attacked isolated plantation owners’ houses or bungalows, using British Sten guns or grenades. They made road ambushes by falling trees across roads then subjecting stalled vehicles to barrages of fire. That is how they murdered High Commissioner Sir Henry Gurney (p.156).

The casualties were never enormous – not on the scale of an actual war – but still significant, with around 500 European settlers or officials being killed each year, and several times more communists. In total, during the entire emergency, 1948 to 1960, 1,346 Malayan troops and police were killed, 519 British military personnel, about 6,710 communists, with civilian casualties of around 5,000.

The British response

The British responded with a number of co-ordinated strategies: most Malay settlements had so-called ‘squatter’ camps surrounding them, occupied by immigrants from China, some of whom helped the communists, but many of whom were victims of the communists if they didn’t help or were suspected of collaborating. Therefore the British created a network of ‘New Villages’ and relocated the 600,000 squatters to them. Surrounded by barbed wire, they certainly protected the inmates from attack, but also could be seen as concentration camps.

The British authorities enforced a photo identity scheme, and tried to starve the communist guerrillas by implementing a food denial campaign by enforcing food rationing on civilians, killing livestock and using chemical herbicides to destroy rural farmland. Policing was expanded and re-organised to provide protection for workers going to work on rubber plantations or tin mines.

It is ironic to learn that the outbreak of the Korean War in June 1950 led to boom market for rubber and boom period for Malayan economy (p.182). Nonetheless, when the Conservatives won their election victory in October 1951 victory, they discovered that Britain was on verge of bankruptcy. The country had lower food stocks than ten years earlier, in 1941. By 1951 huge numbers of men involved – 40,000 regular troops including 25,000 from Britain, 10,000 Gurkhas, 5 battalions of the Malay Regiment, plus 60,000 full-time police and 200,000 Home Guards. The war was costing £500,000 a day. (p.162) No wonder Correlli Barnett railed against the stupidity of spending all our Marshall Aid running the ridiculous empire.

The incoming Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, sent Colonial Secretary Oliver Lyttleton on a fact-finding mission which reported back that the situation was dire and highlighted disagreements between army and police and divisions even within the police. Churchill appointed General Sir Gerald Templer to take over. Templer was a splendid example of the imperialist education system, having attended Wellington, Sandhurst, been an Olympic hurdling champion, and served in post-war Germany where he’d realised the Germans needed encouragement, carrots, promises of better times, to prevent communism.

It was Templer who realised the British had to win the ‘hearts and minds’ of the population, not with military force, but simply by showing that democratic capitalism would give the native populations and their families a better future. So he combined expanding the police force, and especially its Special Branch wing, with social works, the building of hospitals, schools, an increase in teacher training, setting up of women’s groups and so on.

Barber’s approach

Noel Barber (1909 to 1988) was a journalist who worked as foreign correspondent for the Daily Mail in the 50s, 60s and 70s. He also managed to write some 22 non-fiction books about the many countries he reported from (Hungary, Tibet, India). Late in life, a car crash ended his career as a journalist and he switched to writing novels, producing half a dozen, none of which I’ve heard of.

The War of the Running Dogs: How Malaya Defeated the Communist Guerrillas 1948-60 was Barber’s 15th non-fiction book. I picked it up in a second-hand shop because I want to understand more about Britain’s decolonisation beyond the glut of books and documentaries about the two usual suspects, India and Israel.

I think it’s safe to say that Barber’s approach is old school. Writing at the end of the 1960s, he himself came from a solidly upper-middle-class family, good public school, well-connected family (his brother, Anthony, was a Conservative politician, who rose to be Chancellor of the Exchequer in Ted Heath’s government 1970 to 1974).

Thus we get the story predominantly from the British side and from a perspective which is now disappearing, told with a hearty patriotism which often reads like it’s from one of the Famous Five children’s book. The senior British figures are often described as ‘magnificent’, policies and outcomes are ‘splendid’. Men are men, especially the gruff, no-nonsense Lieutenant General Gerald Templer who was sent by Churchill to replace the assassinated High Commissioner Sir Henry Gurney. Templer barks out orders, insists things are done the same day, issues red orders which must be carried out by underlings or else, insists on shaking hands with all the Malay staff at government house (in fact, King’s House) in Kuala Lumpur. Shakes colleagues by the hand and tells them, ‘You’re a man‘.

Other ‘men’ include Sir Harold Briggs, First Director of Operations, Sir Robert ‘Bob’ Thompson of the Malayan Civil Service, Colonel Arthur Young, Police Commissioner, Bill Carbonell Commissioner of Police, and Peter Lucy, the amazingly brave rubber planter. It is a winning aspect of the book that it opens with a one-page ‘cast of principal characters’ [which isn’t all-white, it includes Malayan politicians and all the key Communist leaders]. Somehow this crystallises the impression given by much of the text that the war was a spiffing affair with manly chaps like General Templer grasping Colonel Young with a firm handshake, looking straight into his eyes, and saying, ‘You’ve done a man’s job, sir.’

Stories and comedy

Barber tells a number of funny or wry anecdotes. For example, the occasion when Templer addressed the population of one of the New Villages which had passively let CTs walk in, take all their weapons, and then walk out, the British general tried to convey his anger, but the Malay translator produces a comically rude mistranslation.

Or the amazing tale of 14-year-old Terence Edmitt who drove the family armoured car (!) through a CT roadblock and ambush, carefully ramming the car blocking the road into the ditch, while the car echoed to fusillades of bullets from CT sten guns and his mum and dad fired back through slits in the side (p.227).

Or the astonishing story of Peter Lucy and his tough, no-nonsense wife Tommy, who refused to abandon their remote plantation bungalow, so they fortified it, ringed it with barbed wire, and regularly fought off CT attacks with Sten guns and hand grenades even when Tommy was nine months pregnant!

Barber finds the astonishing or the amusing, the gossipy and heroic, in everything. This is one of the aspects which makes it more of a popular magazine article than a work of serious history.

There are other reasons why I doubt a book like this could be published nowadays:

1. Race and ethnicity

As Britain ceases to be a white country (estimates vary, but by about 2070 it’s thought whites will be in a minority in the UK) and its academic and publishing industries become ever-more hypersensitive to issues of race and ethnicity, the book’s unstinting support of ‘our boys’ and of colonial administration generally, has, I think, nowadays, become untenable. Barber would be picked up on countless places where he makes no-longer-acceptable generalisations about the Malays, the Chinese or the Indian population of Malaya.

In fact, Barber goes out of his way to praise the three different racial groups in Malaya, and also brings out Templer’s and the British authorities’ deliberate policies of racial integration. He tells the story of Templer being outraged to learn that some ex-pat club refuses membership to Malays and Chinese, gets the entire board sacks, and forces them to take non-European members. So Barber and his heroes are very pro race equality and racial integration. Templer and many other Brits realised it was vital not only to winning the war but to ensuring a smooth transition to independence. That wouldn’t save them from being damned by modern academics and critics.

And Barber goes out of his way to detail the intelligence work of the CT defector Lam Swee and, especially, of C.C. Too, a Chinese brought in to head British psychological operations, who became responsible for the propaganda war, including dropping millions of leaflets in the jungle telling the terrorists they would be treated well if they gave themselves up, describing the joys of civilian life (which amount to ‘women and cigarettes), as well as planes which were commissioned to fly low over huge expanses of jungle broadcasting the same message from big loudspeakers (p.139).

So I wasn’t aware of any racial bias or bigotry at all, rather the reverse. Bet that wouldn’t save him, though. And although he goes out of his way to give a positive impression of the remote communities of ‘aboriginal’ peoples, the peoples who inhabited Malaya before either the Malays or Chinese arrived, I suspect he would be hammered for calling them ‘abos’ and not the currently acceptable term, which appears to be ‘Orang Asli aboriginals’.

2. Women

Since the complete triumph of feminism in academia and the media, the slightest disparaging remark about women in any capacity is enough to end careers.

Again, Barber is surprisingly liberated for his day (he must have written this book in the late 60s and 1970 for it to be published in 1971) and goes out of his way to praise women at every level. For example:

a) He describes the tremendous good works done by Templer’s wife, who threw herself into organising hospitals, schools, women’s groups and generally improving the status of women in Malay society.

b) He gives specific examples of amazing courage and bravery among women in the war, for example, Lucie Card who one minute is living a middle-class life in Surrey, volunteers for the St John’s Ambulance, and a month later is driving an ambulance through bandit-infested jungle in Malaya (p.237 ff.)

Barber devotes a long passage to the surprising fact that Chin Peng selected as head of the communist army’s courier network, a determined young woman, Lee Meng. Not only do we hear about her legendary efficiency and ruthlessness, but there is a long passage devoted to the hard work the Malay Special Branch put in to a) identifying her b) arresting and interrogating her.

It is just as surprising to learn that a key player in tracking her down was British operative Eileen Lee. The complexities of the operation to identify Lee Meng sound as if they’re from a James Bond story (as does the very unlikely-sounding story of CT double agent ‘the Raven’ attending a dinner party of local Brits disguised as a servant in order to leave a secret message on the District Officer’s pillow! p.286)

Elsewhere Barber remarks more than once that female comrades in the Liberation Army were generally thought to be tougher and more ruthless than most of the men.

So Barber goes well out of his way to sing the praises of women in general, and to single out some remarkable examples of female braveness, toughness and ingenuity in particular – but I don’t think that would be enough to save him. He routinely refers to these heroic women as ‘girls’, sometimes as ‘young and pretty girls’ (p.203), ‘she was young, extremely beautiful and very pregnant’ (p.284). Tsk tsk. His entire attitude would, nowadays, be dismissed as the patronising stereotypes of a patriarchal, pro-imperialist, white supremacist male. I’m surprised his book is still in print.

It’s very obvious that anyone interested should read a more up-to-date account of the war, but all the aspects I’ve just mentioned mean that Barber’s account is interesting not only for its subject matter, but for the strong flavour of the 1970s prism through which he views them.

3. Unquestioning patriotism

For Barber, the high commissioners, heads of police or special branch, are ‘magnificent’, so a ‘splendid’ job, are real ‘men’. He mentions at some length the two trials of Lee Meng and how, when the authorities couldn’t get a guilty verdict from the first trial, they simply held another one with a more European panel of ‘advisers’ (instead of a jury). This caused controversy at the time. Similarly, he mentions the ‘Batang Kali massacre’ when 24 unarmed Chinese prisoners appear to have been murdered by British troops. He mentions these things, presents the evidence and says they left question marks over ‘British justice’. He makes brief mention of regulation 17D which gave the government the power of detention without trial and that some 30,000 civilians were interned under it, but not much more. He mentions these things but I bet a modern historian would use them to flay the racist imperialist British.

Key developments

By October 1951

It had become clear to Chen Ping that his initial three-phase plan wasn’t working. He duly called another big meeting of senior Malay Communist members and issued a new Directive. This refocused the communist campaign – stop killing innocent bystanders and Chinese, focus more on police, soldiers, direct officers of imperialism – but at same time boosted political efforts to infiltrate trade unions and create communist sympathisers through legal means.

January 1952

The appointment of Templer as High Commissioner, who comes in with sweeping new policies. One is to place enormous bounties on the heads of the CT senior command, double if caught alive, half if caught dead. He wanted them alive so he could convert them and use them as propaganda. Also to interrogate them and get intelligence about camps and strategies.

September 1952

One of the stupidities of the entire thing was that the British fully intended to quit Malaya, and had made this known to all the sultans and the general population. Throughout the period Britain made attempts to get more local figures into politics, to make more places open to locally elected officials. Then on 14 September 1952 a new citizenship law gave 60% of the Chinese population and 180,000 Indians full and immediate citizenship, with procedures established for all other inhabitants to apply for citizenship (including any Europeans who had one parent who’d been born in the country).

Spring 1953

Chin Peng makes a momentous decision to relocate his forces across the border into Thailand. Barber describes eye-witness accounts of the jungle meeting where this was announced to the communist cadres and the mood of disillusion and demoralisation which it led to.

Winding down

By mid-1953, five years into the war, a number of key communist leaders had been captured, killed or had defected. The British had sealed the squatter Chinese population off in the New Villages, enforced citizen id cards on everyone else, granted citizenship to large numbers of the population with processes for everyone else to gain full, legal citizenship, and had laid out a timetable towards full and free democratic elections to be held in 1955. Independence, in other words, was only a few years away. In the meantime Templer had overseen the inauguration of a sort of welfare state into which legal citizens paid, and which would contribute towards medical care or pensions. Tours were organised of government offices which included each citizen being taken to a bank and show how much money they had accrued, and led up to a speech by Templer himself. More and more CTs began to defect, giving themselves up and were astonished when they were not shot out of hand, but carefully treated, questioned, then freed and given clothes, money and jobs, and encouraged to spread the word to their comrades still in the jungle.

It became harder and harder for the communists to persuade peasants or urban dwellers that theirs was the correct route to freedom when the British route was so obviously better, for everyone.

This is what Templer meant when he had announced his ‘hearts and minds’ strategy. Barber really emphasises that right at the start of the emergency the government took the right decision which was to keep the emergency in the hands of the civil authorities – to make it a law and order issue. To make the police and Special Branch the key arms of law enforcement, with the army solely as backup and for specific defined operations (p.245 and throughout).

It was vital that the majority of the population see that law and order and government continue in its same form. The classic mistake to make in such situations, is to appoint a military overseer who invariably puts military units in charge, maybe imposes martial law, sets up special army-run detention centres and so on, with the inevitable result that sooner or later some atrocity is committed or photos leak out of inmates being mistreated in military gaols, and the general effect is to alienate the majority of the non-combatant population and encourage them to give passive or active support to the insurgents. As the Americans did in Vietnam and then again, astonishingly, in Iraq.

The Brits may have bent the law in some trials, been responsible for one well-publicised massacre (Batang Kal: 24 terrorists shot; My Lai: over 500 unarmed men, women and children killed), and the New Villages policy doesn’t sound as benign to me as Barber makes it sound. But overall, eventually, the non-military nature of the British response worked.

Communist desertions

The British placed huge bounties on the heads of the CT leaders. They offered huge sums for information. And they paid CTs who handed themselves in. Millions of leaflets offering safe passage were dropped over the jungle (93 million in 1953 alone, p.246, 525 million in total, p.321).

So many took up this offer that in the summer of 1953 Templer set up the Special Operational Volunteer Force, 180 ex-communist terrorists grouped into twelve platoons of 15 men each (p.233).

Barber describes in detail the defection of a number of the highest CT leaders, including the elusive Osman China ‘one of the most brilliant propagandists in South-East Asia’ and Hor Leung, a high ranking communist official (pages 250 to 265).

Elections

In July there was the first full general election in Malayan history. Barber had already introduced us to Tunku Abdul Rahman who had emerged as a canny political operator in the regional elections of 1952. Now he built a coalition between the ethnic parties to take overall power. 85% of the electorate voted and the Tunku’s Alliance won 51 of the 52 seats. He immediately began criticising the British veto on all laws passed by the assembly and pushing for the British to leave and relinquish full political power as soon as possible. The Tunku immediately issued a complete amnesty to all remaining CT fighters and had it distributed by leaflet, loudspeaker, the press and so on. Chin Peng replied calling for an immediate ceasefire.

The Tunku and his party were keen to hold talks but the British stalled. They were still responsible for the country’s security and felt admitting Chin Peng to a conference table would subvert the democratic process they had put in place, would give the communists influence not merited by their dwindling band of malnourished jungle fighters, and would hand a propaganda coup to the communist cause across wider South-East Asia (not least in Vietnam). But the Alliance party and many others saw this as simply excuses for the British to hang onto ultimate power. As long as the emergency remained, the British remained, and so the imperial power had a vested interest in dragging it out.

We now enter the complex world of multi-party politics, in which there are factions within the ruling Alliance party, these disagree with the old sultans, many of whom trust their British advisers more than these upstart democratic politicians, and the British administration itself which was divided about policy, and a British political community which was, of course, also divided between Conservative ruling party and the opposition internationalist Labour Party. The story gets more complex and, frankly, more boring, more bureaucratic.

The solution to this particular conundrum was simple: the British announced that they would leave whether the emergency was over or not. The existence of the emergency would not prevent full independence. And so Chin Peng was offered and amnesty and the opportunity to emerge from the (Thai) jungle and hold talks with First Minister Tunku.

In the event Malaya finally became fully independent (achieving Merdeka or independence) in August 1957, ending 83 years of British rule. Although under a British-Malayan Defence Pact, the Malay Army was run by Director of Operations Sir James Cassels (p.305), British soldiers continued to provide ‘defence’ for the Malayan state, and continued to be ambushed and killed by the 1,000 or so remaining CTs left in the jungle.

Despite independence the Communist insurgency continued until 1960. The final 30 or so pages don’t cover any of the political, social or economic ramifications of independence, but instead continue to give us exciting stories of derring-do, describing the cat and mouse campaigns to kill or capture the last remaining CT leaders, who are regularly portrayed as fiendish, cunning, clever, zealous and indoctrinated opponents of tall, tough, multi-lingual British Special Branch or SAS officers with mops of unruly hair and piercing blue eyes.

These last couple of extended adventures made me suddenly realise who Noel Barber reminds me of – Frederick Forsyth. A lot of the passages of action – the ambushes and attacks, the forays into the jungle, the top secret intelligence work – and the stereotyped characters – bluff British army officers, slight twinkly-eyed Chinese fanatics, beautiful girls, fast cars, Sten guns and armoured cars – read like an airport thriller, an airport thriller, a lot of which just happens to be true.

On 31 July 1960 the ’emergency’ was declared over and there was a huge victory parade through Kuala Lumpa which Barber describes in joyous detail, and then wraps his account up with a purple prose description of free, independent Malaya, unchanged and yet completely changed, enduring forever…

Thoughts

1. I must read a more modern account of the emergency, one which will probably contain a far more damning version of British behaviour.

2. Ideally, this modern version would go on to cover the longer period after independence up to the 1990s, say, so that the long-term effect of not only the emergency but of colonial rule can be assessed in the longer perspective.

3. Barber’s book is a very accessible, rip-roaring boys adventure version of events. The thing is, this may not be so misleading because quite obviously a lot of the British participants took part in that spirit, had that gung-ho, patriotic ‘come on chaps’ attitude. Certainly in his interviews with Peter Lucy and his wife, with Lucie Card and the dashing Scottish officer she met and married in Malaya, David Storrier (p.239), they all talk like that, they describe acts of everyday heroism and bravery with a dashing disregard for the danger.

4. And this is connected to the many scenes and descriptions of events where Barber deploys the techniques of a popular novelist, setting scenes whether in ex-pat clubs or jungle guerrilla camps, giving vivid descriptions of emaciated CTs, terrified Tamil workers, jolly fun-loving sultans and dashing Brits which come from movies, novels or comics of the 1950s:

Gallery of characters

Colonel Robert ‘Bob’ Thompson, son of an English clergyman, fluent Chinese scholar, fought with the famous Wingate Chindits, had a ‘brilliant’ war record, looked like a film star, was ‘a dashing, handsome, highly intelligent bachelor with a ready chuckle’ (p.24)

Sir Edward Gent, the High Commissioner… at Oxford gained a double first and was a rugger Blue… (p.44)

Malcolm MacDonald, Commissioner-General for South-East Asia… was something of a ‘character’ and over the years had developed a public image of a shirt-sleeved, approachable democrat… (p.47)

Police-Superintendent ‘Two-Gun’ Bill Stafford, a stocky, broad-shouldered barrel-chested aggressive man with grey-green eyes, who had been a ‘crime-buster’ before the Emergency and was already something of a legend in Malaya. (p.66)

[David Storrier] had sharp features, straight fair hair and the bluest eyes she [Lucie Card] had ever seen.

[Sir Henry Gurney’s] panache had become a legend in Palestine during the last frightful months… known to close friends as Jimmy, he had gained a blue for golf at Oxford and was a keen tennis player. (p.73)

Colonel Nicol Gray was a strong man in every sense of the word. (p.81)

John Davis, Senior District officer was ‘a broad-shouldered man of forty-nine with twinkling blue eyes and a shock of unmanageable hair’ (p.276)

The commanding officer chosen for the task was a spectacular character – literally: Major Harry Thompson, seconded from the Royal Highland Fusiliers, stood six feet four inches, had a thatch of fierce red hair and a boxer’s nose (p.311)

Evan Davies was a master of the technique of using double agents… He had impeccable manners… he was ‘feared yet respected in every CT camp in Malaya’… he drove a cream, two-seater sports car ‘with his usual dash and verve’…He had ‘a remarkable ability to think like a Chinese…’ ‘He had been a policeman on the beat in London before being promoted to Special Branch, followed by a spell as a Commando during World War Two..’ (pages 281 to 24)

Commando: Marching to Glory: Six of the Best Commando Army Books Ever! (Commando for Action and Adventure): Amazon.co.uk: Low, George: 9781853758966: Books


Related history reviews

Related literary reviews i.e. about Malaya

The Kill List by Frederick Forsyth (2013)

There’s a strong sense of déjà vu about the early parts of this novel.

Like his previous novels Avenger and The Afghan it is about Islamic terrorism. The focus is very American, with scores of pages giving a factual account of the mushrooming of US security and intelligence forces after 9/11, including J-SOC (Joint Special Operations Command – ‘a component command of the United States Special Operations Command, USSOCOM’) and TOSA (Technical Operations Support Activity) the agency which will end up running ‘the Tracker’.

Like the previous books the protagonists don’t really have ‘characters’, they have CVs and functions, more like the avatars in a computer game than characters in a traditional ‘novel’. As in Forsyth’s most recent books, they barely even have names but are more commonly referred to by their roles: thus ‘the Preacher’ is delivering blood-thirsty sermons on the internet instructing young Muslims to carry out personal attacks on individuals inside the Great Satan, and this is leading to a wave of fanatical young men stabbing or shooting US senators and other VIPs.

When one of these fanatics shoots dead the retired general father of lifelong US Marine Christopher ‘Kit’ Carson, a fluent Arab speaker who has seen action in Afghanistan and the Gulf – it becomes ‘personal’ (p.99). (As in a thousand action movie trailers, the character actually says that phrase.) Carson morphs into The Tracker and that’s how he’s referred to by everyone he subsequently encounters and the narrator for the rest of the book.

Not only are the themes and many of the organisations and the character ‘types’ repeated from previous novels, but so are some of the scenes. For example, this is the third novel where Forsyth references the massacre at Qala-i-Jangi fortress in Afghanistan in 2001, picking out the death of the first American casualty in Afghanistan, Johnny Spann, who was beaten to death by Taliban prisoners.

There is yet another reference to the battle of Shah-i-Kot, where three Chinook helicopters full of special forces were attacked by Taliban fighters and, when a SEAL fell out of one as it did emergency evasion manoeuvres, the others went back overland to rescue him, leading to a prolonged firefight with the baddies. Forsyth places the protagonist of this book, Carson, at the heart of this very battle, where he saves the life of a fellow American who later rises to power in one of the countless security services and – very conveniently – helps Carson get the job to tracking down The Preacher.

The repetitions continue: late in the book there is a page devoted to the method of East German security chief Markus Wolf, who dispatched Adonis-like young men to seduce the ageing spinsters who worked as personal secretaries to numerous West German politicians, thus extracting priceless intel over decades (p.279). This is historical fact. Forsyth uses it as a roundabout introduction to an elderly (aged 75) lady who works as the tea lady at a hostage negotiating firm, but who also happens to be an agent of MI5 and reports back everything she hears of the hostage negotiations (see below). But what strikes this reader is that Forsyth included the same page-length explanation of Wolf’s technique in his previous novel, The Cobra (where a cocaine cartel’s daughter was seduced by just such a good-looking man, who was an agent leading her on).

Similarly, mention of the SAS prompts Forsyth to retell the story of how his heroes ‘took out’ the West Side Boyz in Sierra Leone, in Operation Barras, August 2000 (p.338) – an incident which is mentioned in several of his previous novels. Elsewhere Forsyth gives a couple of pages explanation of the hundi method of money transfer, by which terrorists can avoid using banks (p.309) – also a repeat from previous work.

So throughout the novel the reader stumbles on passages which are strongly reminiscent of, or plain copies from, previous novels.

The truth about Islam

A large example is the scene where – as part of his long and minutely-described military career in Egypt learning Arabic – Carson has several conversations with a peaceable Koranic scholar, who explains how unIslamic Islamic terrorists are, in the way they take small quotes from the Koran or hadith out of context and distort them for their hate-filled purposes. This repeats the scenes in the previous two Islamic novels where Koranic scholars have delivered ‘Author’s Messages’ about how the Koran specifically bans the murder of civilians, the murder of women or children, the taking of hostages etc.

I dare say the teaching is correct, it’s just a) the naivety of dumping it into the book like a piece of newspaper editorial, as if b) Forsyth’s page or two asserting that Islamic terrorists are plain wrong about their own religion will have any impact on any real life terrorists and c) the fact that the same message has recurred in all the recent predecessor books.

Critics could call it laziness or repetitiveness – using more or less the same plot, on the same subject, incorporating many of the same incidents and the same them-and-us, black-and-white Daily Mail point of view. But I see Forsyth’s ‘novels’ as being so devoid of character, so lacking in suspense and – towards the end of each one – so lacking in plausibility, that they become almost avant-garde.

They are like the shiny metal surface of one of his beloved fighter planes. Smoothly tooled and assembled from identikit parts, they present the same forces-of-law-and-order-worshipping worldview in the same super-factual style, devoid of any psychology or character – about as subtle and characterful – but as sleek and shiny – as a cruise missile.

The plot

The Preacher is publishing videos of hate on the internet. Kit Carson aka the Tracker is commissioned to track him down and eliminate him, by a special Presidential Order relayed to him via Gray Fox, director of TOSA. He recruits a computer whizz who he codenames Ariel, and who tracks the Preacher’s ‘secret’ IP address to Kismayo in south Somalia.

[As in the previous novels, the good guy is helped out by a computer whizz kid, this time a teenager with Asperger’s syndrome, who is scared to come out of his bedroom but can work miracles online – one Roger Kendrick (p.79). (Even when Forsyth characters actually have names, they are generally bland, empty and characterless; monikers like the Tracker, the Preacher, the Killer, the Geek, have more flavour and depth than the various Rogers or Christophers or Bobs.) Forsyth tells us the Preacher has his own techno whizzkid, a British-born Muslim alumnus of Manchester University, who our guys nickname the Troll – so one recurring strand in the text is the conflict entirely in cyber-space between these two hackers.]

Amid a wealth of false passports and background info about the country’s notorious Intelligence Service, the ISI, the Tracker visits Pakistan, where he is hosted and given a good backgrounder by the local CIA officer. Using intel from various sources he establishes that the Preacher is the runaway son of a Pakistani General, that his name is Zulfikar Ali Shah, that he was radicalised during the Afghan War during which he took the nom de guerre Abu Azzam.

The Tracker concocts a childishly simple plan, which is to recreate in a Hollywood studio the exact backdrop and look of the room which the Preacher uses, to hire an actor (Hollywood bit-part player, Tony Suarez) who looks like him and a voice mimic who can sound like him, and to impersonate one of the Preacher’s broadcasts – then use Ariel to get it published via the Preacher’s authentic website.

But, in this fake video, the Preacher will abjectly apologise for inciting violence, saying Islam is really a religion of peace and love, and begging forgiveness for his errors (p.264). The idea is that his many millions of followers will be so disgusted by his ‘apostasy’ from the cause that one or more of them will kill him in revenge. Forsyth goes into the mechanics of hiring studio, actor, mimic and so on with his customary thoroughness – but the reader can’t help thinking it’s a silly plan.

Luckily, Forsyth throws a massive spanner into this linear plot, and the thing which – for all its repetitions – makes The Kill List different from its predecessors and a genuinely interesting read. He introduces the Somali pirates.

Somali pirates

A Swedish cargo ship, the Malmö, a 22,000-tonne general cargo freighter carrying Volvos to the East (p.203), is hijacked by Somali pirates, led by one of the most cruel and sadistic, Al-Afrit, meaning ‘the Devil’. Forsyth gives fascinating background information about Somalia the country, its geography and recent terrible history, the reason for the rise of the pirates and the evolution of their methods, which have reached such a maturity that London shipping companies now employ professionals to negotiate the release of their hijacked ships, and some of the London negotiators have become quite familiar with their Somali negotiator opposite numbers.

Thus when news come through that the Malmö has been hijacked, the London insurance firm of Chauncey Reynolds turns to the experienced Somali-hijack-negotiator Gareth Evans who is himself delighted to find, in the first phone call the firm receives, that the pirates are represented by Mr Ali Abdi, a suave, Western-educated lawyer, with whom he has done business previously.

We learn that the Western ship owners are always in a hurry to secure the release of their ship but how that works in favour of the pirates, who have all the time in the world. Forsyth tells us the ransoms normally start out around $20 million and invariably fall, through lengthy and protracted discussions, to around $5 million. This, like so much else in the book, is eye-opening stuff, like a well-written article in a high-end newspaper.

But this (fairly routine) hijacking impinges on the plot because the ship’s owner, Harry Andersson, had sent his youngest son, Ove Carlsson (19), aboard the ship as his first experience at sea. It turns out to be a very bad experience as, when the ship is anchored off shore and Al-Afrit visits, he takes a fancy to the tall blonde boy and has him dragged of the ship, thrown into a dungeon, chained and whipped. Just for kicks.

Opal

After the broadcast of the fake sermon begging forgiveness, the Preacher obviously knows someone is out to get him and has hacked into his computers. This is confirmed when his computer whizz kid, the Troll, is murdered by Israeli agents in a typically complicated and well-organised raid from an inflatable dinghy, which Forsyth describes in mind-boggling detail. The Israeli operatives rendezvous with their permanent agent in Somalia, codenamed Opal, on a deserted beach, before arranging the Troll’s assassination.

In a plot development which stretches credulity, Opal is then tasked with taking the package the Troll was carrying up to the Preacher’s compound in the north. Here he is to play the innocent who just happened to come across the Troll dying in a car wreck (in fact carefully staged by the Israelis), and say that the Troll asked with his dying breath for Opal to deliver the package.

On arriving at the Preacher’s compound with the Troll’s package and this unlikely cover story, it is no surprise that Opal is imprisoned while his story is checked out. So good is the Mossad arrangement of the Troll’s ‘accidental’ car crash that the Preacher’s men return and say Opal’s story checks out, so he is kept hanging around the Preacher, and then – as his knowledge of languages becomes known – the Preacher realises he may be able to use Opal and asks him if he wants to work for him as fixer and translator. Perfect. ‘We’ have an agent inside the enemy camp.

This was the Tracker’s plan all along. The compound had been identified using computer technology to track it down as the source of the internet sermons and is under surveillance by a Global Hawk permanently monitoring it from five miles up in the sky. But there is no replacement for human intel, and it is only when Opal, as instructed, slips on the red baseball cap the Mossad agents gave him, that our boys can be really certain that the Preacher is actually there, in residence in the compound. So the Tracker and his team finally have all their suspicions confirmed.

At this point all their planning hits a roadblock, for the powers-that-be ie the President, as advised by his chiefs of staff, vetoes all the options for taking the Preacher out. The compound is in the heart of Mogadishu ie too near innocent civilians to send cruise missiles. And no US President is going to send in troops after the catastrophe of Black Hawk Down (the 1993 debacle when some 18 US Rangers were massacred in a botched raid).

Fortunately for the Tracker, though less so for the victims, what changes official attitudes is a further Preacher-inspired attack in the States, this time a ruthless machine gun attack on a coach load of CIA employees which turns the coach, stuck in rush hour traffic, into a charnel house. Within hours a message is relayed down to the Tracker from the Top – terminate the Preacher.

The blonde hostage

Through his contacts in the Somali underworld, the Preacher becomes aware that the notorious Al-Afrit has hijacked a Western ship and has taken captive a very Western-looking blonde boy. He has a brainwave. The cruel murder and decapitation of the hostage on live TV, in the best Taliban-ISIS tradition, might just restore his image among his disillusioned internet audience as a scourge of the West.

So the Preacher sends a message to Al-Afrit offering to buy the boy. In the parallel conversations which have been going on all this time between the Somali negotiator Abdin and Gareth Evans in London, Abdin tells the Brit that his ‘principal’ has agreed to the $5 million ransom and that the Malmö will finally be released – hooray – but then has to reluctantly admit it will be without the blonde boy, who has been sold on to what Abdin thinks is the Islamic terrorist group Al-Shabaab. Gareth puts his head in his hands.

Taking out the Preacher

The novel builds to a surprisingly effective climax. The spy-in-the-sky tracks the Preacher as he and his bodyguards depart his compound in a Toyota Landcruiser and drive south to the rendezvous point with Al-Afrit’s men, there to buy the blonde boy. (Opal’s presence is vital because he manages to sit in the exposed back end of the truck and once again puts on his red baseball cap to confirm to the via-satellite-watchers that the Preacher is there in person. But Opal’s presence also means they can’t take the convoy out with a cruise missile: Mossad would never forgive them.)

Therefore, it has to be a boots-on-the-ground operation. And there is an entertaining and plausible account of how the Tracker escalates a request via TOSA to the Prez himself, to ask him to phone British PM David Cameron, and request use of an SAS squadron, he’s found out just happens to be training in the Gulf.

Thus the final fifty pages or so are another hymn to the rugged professionalism of the Special Air Service, the unit Forsyth hero worships and who appear in nearly all his novels, each time with much the same detailed backgrounder on their history and structure and training etc (p.352ff).

But, for the first time in several novels, this final sequence is actually very gripping because, instead of giving us his usual high-level and brief summary of an action, Forsyth’s narrative descends ‘into the action’, as it were, with page after page describing the tense build-up to the parachute drop of the six SAS men and the Tracker into the Somali desert near the rendezvous point. I was gripped by this blow-by-blow account like I haven’t been for ages.

Our boys parachute into the desert, ‘tab’ the 8 or so klicks to the village, chuck doped steak to the pye dogs to make them sleep, then attack. In a textbook engagement, they ‘slot’ or ‘take out’ all the Somalis pirates in one village house, then slot the Preacher’s bodyguard as they run across the village square, meantime managing not to kill the Israeli agent, Opal, who slipped his identifying red cap on as soon as the shooting started.

And the whole movie, er, novels builds to a traditional climax when the Tracker comes face to face with the Preacher on the dusty, flat roof of one of the peasant houses. Here the two men have a short, intense knife fight among billowing washing hanging from the peasants’ washing lines by moonlight, which ends with the Tracker nutting the Preacher and, taking advantage of the latter’s momentary loss of grip, stabbing him in the heart. As the light goes out of the baddy’s distinctively amber eyes, our hero gets to whisper in his ear the words his father whispered to him as he died, the motto of the Marine Corps, semper fidelis, shortened to semper fi.


Thoughts

Anyone saddened by the steady decline in Forsyth’s books will be surprised: in my opinion the plot is more interesting and believable than its three predecessors and, because of this, it actually builds to a thrilling and gripping conclusion. It is certainly a return to form after the strange fizzling-out of the previous novel, The Cobra.

Many critics deplore Forsyth’s lack of character or credible plot. Many others dislike his enthusiastic depiction of his heroes’ outside-the-law, vigilante approach to ‘justice’. All true – but I find the books interesting. Hundreds of their pages may consist of little more than detailed background research linked together by far-fetched plots, but it is background information on extremely relevant subjects ie the international drugs trade, international terrorism.

As a tiny example, Forsyth can’t describe a meeting of Mossad officials discussing whether to co-operate with the Tracker’s scheme and commit Opal to his plan, without mentioning that they’re meeting in the same room where their predecessors planned ‘Operation Wrath of God’ to avenge the Israeli athletes murdered at the 1974 Munich Olympics.

The stories are so geopolitical in nature that they are larded with interesting information and insights into recent (war) history on almost every page. Snippets like this are interesting in themselves but also link the action back to previous conflicts. Through the hundreds of similar references, Forsyth’s fictions create a matrix or web bringing together the history of recent conflicts, wars, insurgencies, international crises and weaving them into a compelling (and terrifying) worldview.

It is the coherence of this worldview which I find compelling and, seen from this angle, the repetitions of accounts of recent conflicts aren’t a negative, they positively reinforce his military point-of-view.

Also I admire his ability to keep up to date. There is none of the ‘chaps meeting in gentlemen’s clubs’ which I associate with thrillers of the 1970s, 80s and even 90s. Instead US operatives sit in darkened bunkers staring at screens on which they see the images from Global Hawk predator drones relayed to them by America’s global network of spy satellites. They waggle joy sticks and press a button and a cruise missile obliterates the target they’ve identified.

The protagonists of the last few novels can’t get anywhere without the assistance of young digerati, computer dudes, surfing the dark net, hacking into banks and hidden internet IPs, setting screen against screen.

I admire Forsyth for, after 40 years in the trade, keeping up with not just the latest technology, but the way the hyper-digital world of today shapes every aspect of crime, terrorism and the efforts to combat it.

So, in conclusion, the lack of characterisation and the sometimes simple-minded plots don’t matter to me compared to Forsyth’s compelling vision of the world we live in now, a fast-moving and very dangerous world of skilled terrorists, throwaway mobile phones, 6-mile-high drones, Tomahawk cruise missiles, and the infinite complexities of cyberspace.

A world in which men with grievances born in Palestine or Afghanistan or Yemen might start machine gunning us on beaches in Tunisia or concert halls in Paris or nightclubs in Florida, with no warning – while, on the other hand, an unprecedented level of surveillance of every aspect of our lives by numerous ‘security services’ has slowly insidiously grown up in the last fifteen years.

Forsyth’s latter books are not great novels – from a purist point of view they are lamentably bad novels – but I think they offer fascinating, compelling and snappily-written visions of the dark side of the world we live in now, a world in which terrorists can attack anywhere at any moment, and our side ‘kill people based on metadata’, and most of us are caught in the middle.


Credit

The Kill List by Frederick Forsyth was published by Bantam Press in 2013. All quotes and references are from the 2014 Corgi paperback edition.

Related links

Forsyth’s books

1971 The Day of the Jackal – It is 1963. An international assassin is hired by right-wing paramilitary organisation, the OAS, to assassinate French President, Charles de Gaulle. The novel follows the meticulous preparations of the assassin, code-name Chacal, and the equally thorough attempts of the ‘best detective in France’, Commissaire Lebel, to track him down. Surely one of the most thoroughly researched and gripping thrillers ever written.
1972 The Odessa File – It is 1963. German journalist Peter Miller goes on a quest to track down an evil former SS commandant and gets caught up in a high-level Nazi plot to help Egypt manufacture long-range missiles to attack and destroy Israel.
1974 The Dogs of War – City magnate Sir James Manson hires seasoned mercenary Cat Shannon to overthrow the dictator of the (fictional) West African country of Zangaro, so that Manson’s mining company can get its hands on a mountain virtually made of platinum. This very long novel almost entirely amounts to a mind-bogglingly detailed manual on how to organise and fund a military coup.
1975 The Shepherd – A neat slick Christmas ghost story about a post-war RAF pilot whose instruments black out over the North Sea but who is guided to safety by an apparently phantom Mosquito, flown by a pilot who disappeared without trace during the war.
1979 The Devil’s Alternative – A Cold War, geopolitical thriller confidently describing machinations at the highest levels of the White House, Downing Street and a Soviet Politburo riven by murderous factions and which is plunged into emergency by a looming grain shortage in Russia. A plot to overthrow the reforming leader of the Soviet Union evolves into a nailbiting crisis when the unexpected hijacking of an oil supertanker by fanatical Ukrainian terrorists looks like it might lead to the victory of the hawks in the Politburo, who are seeking a Russian invasion of Western Europe.
1982 No Comebacks Ten short stories combining Forsyth’s strengths of gripping technical description and clear fluent prose, with his weaknesses of cardboard characters and improbable plots, but the big surprise is how many of them are clearly comic in intention.
1984 The Fourth Protocol – Handsome, former public schoolboy, Paratroop Regiment soldier and MI5 agent John Preston, first of all uncovers the ‘mole’ working in MI5, and then tracks down the fiendish Soviet swine who is assembling a tactical nuclear device in Suffolk with a view to vaporising a nearby US Air Force base. the baddies’ plan is to rally anti-nuclear opinion against the Conservatives in the forthcoming General Election, ensuring a Labour Party victory and then (part two of the plan) replace the moderate Labour leader with an (unspecified) hard-Left figure who would leave NATO and effectively hand the UK over to the Russians. A lunatic, right-wing fantasy turned into a ‘novel’.
1989 The Negotiator – Taciturn Clint Eastwood-lookalike Quinn (no first name, just ‘Quinn’) is the best negotiator in the business, so when the President’s son is kidnapped Quinn is pulled out of quiet retirement in a Spanish village and sent to negotiate his release. What he doesn’t realise is the kidnap is just the start of a bigger conspiracy to overthrow the President himself!
1991 The Deceiver – A set of four self-contained, long short stories relating exciting incidents in the career of Sam McCready, senior officer in the British Intelligence Service, as he approaches retirement. More gripping than the previous two novels, with the fourth and final story being genuinely funny, in the style of an Ealing comedy starring Alec Guinness.
1994 The Fist of God – A journalistic account of Saddam Hussein’s 1990 invasion of Kuwait and the ensuing US-led ‘Desert Storm’ operation to throw him out, complete with insider accounts of the Western military and intelligence services and lavish descriptions of scores of hi-tech weaponry. Against this backdrop is set the story of one man – dark-skinned, Arabic-speaking Mike Martin who goes undercover posing as an Arab, first in occupied Kuwait, then – even more perilously – in Baghdad itself, before undertaking a final mission to locate and assist the destruction of Saddam’s atom bomb (!) and the Supergun designed to fire it at the Allies. Simultaneously gripping in detail and preposterous in outline.
1996 Icon – Hot shot CIA agent Jason Monk is brought out of retirement to foil a fascist coup in post-communist Russia in a novel which starts out embedded in fascinating contemporary history of Russia but quickly escalates to heights of absurdity, capped by an ending in which the Russian people are persuaded to install a distant cousin of our very own Queen as the new Tsar of All The Russias! Sure.
2001 The Veteran – Five very readable short stories: The Veteran, The Art of the Matter, The Miracle, The Citizen, and Whispering Wind – well engineered, sleek and almost devoid of real human psychology. Nonetheless, the vigilante twist of The Veteran is imaginatively powerful, and the long final story about a cowboy who wakes from a century-long magic sleep to be reunited with a reincarnation of his lost love has the eerie, primal power of a yarn by Rider Haggard.
2003 Avenger – A multi-stranded narrative which weaves together the Battle of Britain, the murder of a young American aid worker in Bosnia, the death of a young woman in America, before setting the tracking down of a Serbian war criminal to South America against a desperate plot to assassinate Osama bin Laden. The least far-fetched and most gripping Forsyth thriller for years.
2006 The Afghan – Ex-SAS man Colonel Mike Martin, hero of The Fist of God, is called out of retirement to impersonate an Afghan inmate of Guantanamo Bay in order to infiltrate Al Qaeda and prevent their next terrorist attack. Quite a gripping thriller with an amazing amount of detailed background information about Afghanistan, the Taliban, Al Qaeda, Islamic terrorism and so on.
2010 The Cobra – Two lead characters from Avenger, Paul Devereaux and Cal Dexter, are handed the task of wiping out the illegal cocaine trade on the authority of Barack Obama himself. Which leads to an awesome display of Forsyth’s trademark factual research, scores of pages building up a comprehensive picture of the drugs industry, and to the detailed description of the multi-stranded operation which almost succeeds, until lily-livered politicians step in to halt it.
2013 The Kill List – Another one about Islamic terrorism. The Preacher, who has been posting jihadi sermons online and inspiring a wave of terrorist assassinations, is tracked down and terminated by US marine Christopher Carson, aka The Tracker, with a fascinating side plot about Somali piracy thrown in. Like all Forsyth’s novels it’s packed with interesting background information but unlike many of his later novels it this one actually becomes genuinely gripping at the end.
2015 The Outsider – At age 76 Forsyth writes his autobiography in the form of a series of vignettes, anecdotes and tall tales displaying his characteristic briskness and dry humour. What an extraordinary life he’s led, and what simple, boyish fun this book is.

The Fourth Protocol by Frederick Forsyth (1984)

My feeling that the characters and institutions in this novel are almost surreally perfect, that all the soldiers, police, Special Branch, secret agents, intelligence operatives, forensic scientists, nuclear advisers, Customs & Excise officials perform their duty with exemplary efficiency, like the Photoshopped figures in a government recruitment poster – was crystallised when our hero catches the 9.25 train from St Pancras to Sheffield and it not only leaves on time but stops at each station stop along the way bang on time. Not in the real world, not in the Britain I live in, and not in the Britain of the 1980s, it wouldn’t have.

As I noted in my review of The Devil’s Alternative, Forsyth’s novels are supremely confident in tackling high-level, diplomatic and geopolitical subjects and stuffed full of a high-end journalist’s obsession with organisational and administrative detail. But the way all the officials behave impeccably, the police, army, agents are all epitomes, exemplars and models of their type, gives the whole story a plastic, unreal feel. So many of the humans mentioned in the plot are wafer-thin, Action Man figurines who perform their function in the clockwork plot like automata.

Short plot summary

Set in what was then the future – 1987 – the Russians hatch a plan, Operation Aurora, to discredit the current Conservative government of Mrs Thatcher and secure the election of a Labour government. The plan is based on the premise – described in great detail (pp.60-74 and pp.94-104) – that the Labour Party has been penetrated at all levels by hard-core Marxist-Leninists who, once the Party is elected, will promptly overthrow the Labour leader and institute a communist government. This government will immediately withdraw from NATO, the EEC, expel all American troops along with their Cruise missiles, and declare unilateral nuclear disarmament. And this will weaken the Western world so that the Russians can, er, will be able to, er… well, that much isn’t defined. It is just stated that the above policies will ‘fatally weaken’ the West and so are devoutly to be wished for by Moscow.

As to the specifics of the plan, the KGB send their best man, Valeri Petrofsky, to adopt the ‘legend’ (ie clean identity) of James Ross and rent an inconspicuous house in Ipswich. 10 couriers will be sent via different routes to meet him at various locations around England. Each will deliver (unknown to themselves) the components of a ‘small’ nuclear bomb. The eleventh man, Vassiliev, will be a weapons expert who assembles the device. Then Petrofsky will detonate it at a US air base in Suffolk, devastating the base and local area. Moscow will publish warnings it has sent the US about the recklessness of using small and unstable nukes, along with technical information designed to blame the Americans’ recklessness for the ‘accident’.

It is this disastrous ‘accident’ which will prompt revulsion against the pro-American, pro-nuke Mrs Thatcher and cause a last-minute swing in the electorate in favour of Labour with its strong anti-nuclear policy, leading to the election of a Labour government and to the communist coup described above. When Mrs Thatcher (for she is named in the novel) announces a snap election for June 1987, the plan kicks into action and the clock starts ticking…

1. Kim Philby Rather amazingly, the real-life character of Kim Philby plays a large part in the first half of the book. We meet him miserable and disillusioned in his Moscow flat, married with young kids but still a respected member of the KGB establishment. To his surprise he is called to a meeting with the old and sick General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union who requests a detailed summary of the political situation in Britain. Philby’s report is included in the text, all 25 pages of it, which gives a thorough and fantastical account of the extent to which the British Labour Party and the Trades Unions have been infiltrated at every level by hard-core revolutionary communists. This is the seed of the daring plan which the novel describes.

2. The burglary The first hundred pages or so interweave elements of this plot with the straightforward narrative of a south London burglar, Jim Rawlings, who breaks into the home of upper-class George Berenson to steal his wife’s legendary diamonds. He also nicks an attache case to put his swag in but is surprised to discover it contains a cache of Top Secret documents. Being an honest crook, guvnor, he posts the documents back to the police, who pass them on to MI5.

3. Special agent John Preston Enter four-square, ex-Paratrooper, now the upright and thorough MI5 agent, John Preston. He and the authorities only have the documents posted to them, showing there’s been a leak but with no evidence who stole them. Preston undertakes a meticulous, and meticulously described by Forsyth, investigation which eventually narrows it down to Berenson. The process by which this is done is fascinating, a master class in Forsyth’s astonishing grasp of bureaucratic and administrative detail.

4. South Africa Preston then tails Berenson and discovers his ‘control’ is an agent in the South African embassy, one Jan Marais. In a long, immensely detailed and extraordinary tour de force of investigation, Preston flies to South Africa, where he is loaned a senior officer to help him out and take him round. This officer, Viljoen, is at first sceptical but Preston demonstrates the superiority of the British secret services by piecing together the extraordinary story of Jan Marais’s life and his career during the second world war to prove that he is in fact a Soviet spy. The South Africans are appalled, grateful and impressed. Back in Britain Berenson is horrified at his own stupidity and treachery; contrary to his intentions he has been passing key documents to the very Soviets he purports to despise. Forsyth has several pungent passages on the narcissism and stupidity of such imbeciles who set themselves against the wisdom of the authorities.

5. Agency rivalries All this ‘action’ – ie Preston’s adventures – is cleverly interwoven not only with developments in Moscow, as Philby’s plan is assessed and adopted, but with detailed descriptions of a power struggle at the top of British security where MI5’s sickly boss Sir Bernard Hemmings is being manouevred out the door by his number two, Brian Harcourt-Smith. Harcourt-Smith hates Preston and suppresses a report he presented right at the start of the book about the left-wing penetration of the Labour Party. The way he did this made me think, for most of the book, that he, Harcourt-Smith, must be a deeper ‘mole’ or agent for the Soviets… Meanwhile, as the evidence mounts that the Sovs are mounting some kind of major operation, the head of MI6, Sir Nigel Irvine, poaches Preston from MI5 where he’s been sidelined, and gives him authority to pursue the investigation as he sees fit.

6. Thrill of the chase The last 150 pages of the novel are structurally similar to Day of The Jackal in the way it becomes a chase: with Honest John slowly piecing together the horrific plan and desperately trying to track down the Russian agent while, in alternating scenes, we follow in detail the preparations, travel, rendezvous of each courier with Evil Valeri. Thus the tension is very effectively ratcheted up and up…

Implausibility

BUT – The plot is fundamentally laughable. The more you think about it, it seems ludicrously paranoid. Sure the Militant Tendency had infiltrated many local Labour parties during the early 1980s, but Neil Kinnock effectively faced them down, and then the year-long Miners’ Strike (1984-85), which began about the time this novel was published, highlighted the superficial power but ultimate weakness of the entire British Trade Union movement, ending in complete defeat and helping Mrs Thatcher to her record third election victory in 1987.

In the scenario of this book, the nuclear ‘accident’ was to swing the electorate at the last moment against Mrs Thatcher and in favour of Labour; and within days of being elected Neil Kinnock would be overthrown in a Party coup and replaced by – …. who exactly? Tony Benn? Really? A few moments’ reflection suggest that, in the light of a nuclear explosion, the electorate would probably be scared and afraid and flee to the party of Law and Order. In fact, such an event would have played to all Mrs Thatcher’s strengths, the resolution she showed during the Falklands War (April-June 1982), her bravery after the Brighton Bombing (12 October 1984).

Even as a political fantasy, the plot doesn’t stand up to scrutiny.

Elements

The Wikipedia article on ‘airport novels’ doesn’t specify exactly when they were invented or when it evolved into a distinct genre, but it does mention that an airport novel must be:

  • long
  • absorbing
  • exciting and thrilling
  • superficial, containing no depth of characterisation, no profound meaning, no message
  • since the airplane passenger has no works of reference about, it must include its own background information
  • and be forgettable

Long

The Fourth Protocol is the longest novel I’ve read in a while, at 526 pages in the Corgi paperback edition. In fact it feels like several novels crammed into one: a first half which starts with the burglary, segues into identifying the ‘mole’ in the service, before taking John Preston to South Africa to perform his brilliant detective work. This takes hundreds of pages but, fascinating and rewardingly complex though it is, the first half feels only tangentially related to the nuclear plot in the second half.

Absorbing / providing its own background information

Forsyth was a high end journalist before he was a novelist and good gracious it shows. Nothing is mentioned without at least half a page of explanation and description. Every gun, piece of equipment – cameras, microphones, burglar alarms and so on – are lovingly described, along with their complete spec and functionality. How to create a small nuclear weapon is described in minute detail over seven pages, a description which became so intricate I could have done with a diagram (pp.440-447).

But it’s the administrative functions of bureaucracies which really fire Forsyth. We are told at great length about MI5:

The British Security Service, better known as MI5, does not live in one single building. Discreetly, but inconveniently, it is split up into four office blocks. The Headquarters are in Charles Street, and no longer at the old HQ, Leconfield House, so habitually mentioned in the newspapers.

The next biggest block is in Gordon Street, known simply as ‘Gordon’, and nothing else just as the head office is known as ‘Charles’. the other two premises are in Cork Street (known as ‘Cork’) and a humble annexe in Marlborough Street, again known simply by the street name.

The department is divided into six branches scattered throughout the buildings. Again, discreetly but confusingly, some of the branches have sections in different buildings. In order to avoid an inordinate use of shoe leather, all are linked by extremely secure telephone lines, with a flawless system for identification of the credentials of the caller.

‘A’ branch handles in its various sections Policy, Technical Support, Property Establishment, Registry, Data Processing, the office of the Legal Adviser and the Watcher Service. The last named is the home of that idiosyncratic group of men and (some) women, of all ages and types, street wise and ingenious, who can mount the finest personal surveillance teams in the world. Even ‘hostiles’ have had to concede that on their own ground MI5’s watchers are just about unbeatable… (p.42)

And so on for another three highly detailed, flag-waving pages. Want to know about the Joint Intelligence Committee?

The full JIC is a rather large committee. Apart from half a dozen ministries and several agencies, the three armed forces and the two intelligence services, it would also include the London-based representatives of Canada, Australia, New Zealand and, of course, America’s CIA… (pp.112-113)

The KGB? Specifically, the KGB’s operations in Japan? Yes, we have that in stock:

The First Chief Directorate of the KGB, responsible for all overseas activities, is divided into Directorates, Special Departments and Ordinary Departments. Ordinary KGB agents under diplomatic cover come from one of the ‘territorial’ departments – the Seventh Department happens to cover Japan. These staffers are called PR Line when on posting abroad and they do the run-of-the-mill trawling for information, making of useful contacts, reading of technical publications, etc. (pp.151-152)

In the exciting finale the SAS are called in to storm the house where Petrofsky is hiding out with the bomb. Since I know that no nuclear device went off in 1987, and that Mrs Thatcher won that year’s election and – more importantly – that Brave John Preston never loses a case – I was never in doubt that Bad Russian Petrofsky would be foiled. Nor is Forsyth.

Instead, strangely coldly, factually, there is page after page about the SAS’s structure and organisation, all the things which make it unique etc.

The fighting arm of the SAS is based on a module of four. Four men make up a patrol, four patrols a troop and four troops a squadron. They rotate through the various SAS commitments: Northern Ireland, the Middle East, Jungle Training and Special projects, apart from the continuing NATO tasks and the maintenance of one squadron on standby at Hereford. (p.484)

More, far more time, effort and text is spent on this encyclopedia-style content about the SAS and its thorough and careful preparations than on the storming of the house which is over in a brisk, no-nonsense two pages (pp.505-507): one chap shot but not wounded thanks to latest Kevlar body armour; wicked Russkie eliminated; nuke recovered intact, Suh!

Buildings

The text follows the different characters as they travel round quite a bit, to Moscow and various parts of the USSR, all over South Africa to uncover the Jan Marais plotline, back and forth across London and the Home Counties, then journeys up to Derbyshire and, finally, car and motorbike trips criss-crossing East Anglia.

In every place the characters visit we are told not just the building they go to, but the exact layout of that building, sometimes (as with the KGB or MI6 headquarters) pages and pages linking the administrative structure of the organisation with the buildings, annexes, wings occupied by each section. I kept thinking the text was crying out for those Sunday Times, Insight article-type illustrations and schematic diagrams of buildings’ layout, with those little human figures added to give scale.

That’s often how the novel feels – a fascinating tour through the key organisations and buildings involved in Cold War espionage and security, with small black silhouettes, the merest human outline possible, to tie them together.

High level plot

There’s a meta-plot, a higher-level narrative which underpins or overarches the on-the-ground pursuit of the agents. Operation Aurora is top secret and being carried out on the sole order of the ailing General Secretary of the USSR but there is rivalry between Generals in the highest ranks of the KGB. And in Britain, the rivalry between MI6 and its boss Sir Nigel Irvine and MI5 with its ailing leader Sir Bernard Hemmings and its ambitious number two Brian Harcourt-Smith, are the background to Irvine poaching the omnicapable Preston to solve the case.

But at the very end of the book Irvine informs Preston that the whole Operation was deliberately ‘blown’ by a senior figure on the Russian side (one General Karpov). Part of Preston’s investigation had been to follow an agent flagged up by passport control at Heathrow. Preston and his team of ‘watchers’ trailed him to a house in Chesterfield, which the watchers stake out for over a week, on a hunch it contains important information or equipment and Preston’s gamble pays off when key baddy, Petrofsky, eventually arrives. It is this slender thread which allows Preston to tail Petrofsky back to his house in Ipswich and foil the entire plot.

But now Irvine informs him that the sending of the agent, Winkler, was a deliberate gesture by KGB supremo Karpov to ensure that the plot failed, that an atomic bomb was not detonated in Britain, that the Labour Party did not win the election.

The quid pro quo was that our side – Sir Nigel – ordered Petrofsky to be not just captured, but liquidated. And indeed, in the climax of the SAS raid, he was only badly wounded when, to Preston’s horror, the SAS captain steps forward and shoots him in the head. Now Preston discovers that was part of the ‘deal’. KGB scupper their own plot; we ensure their best agent isn’t interrogated, ‘blown’, and spread all over the newspapers.

In the final pages we see Irvine meet Karpov at a safe house in Geneva and exchange documents, Irvine satisfied that the plot was aborted, Karpov with the documentary proof of the Operation’s existence which he will take back to the USSR and use to undermine his rivals, maybe even topple the General Secretary himself, certainly gain promotion, and win debts and favours from the British.

It is almost as if espionage is a dirty, cynical business.

Forgettable and out of date

But as with all the immense detail of organisational structure, the buildings and their layouts, you close the book and instantly forget it. Like any airport novel it is totally absorbing as you read and instantly erased once you arrive at your destination.

Added to which, every element of the story is 30 years out of date. There is no longer a KGB, are MI5 and MI6 still based at the same locations and structured into the same Departments? More to the point, there is no longer a USSR nor a Cold War. And real history turned out to be much more fascinating than this fiction. The Miners Strike was a more concrete demonstration of class war than anything Forsyth could cook up, much deeper, much longer, much more bitter and harrowing – and the arrival of Mikhael Gorbachev in the USSR much more complex and tragic than any fiction.

Forsyth’s novel, like most others of the time, is based on the frozen timelessness of a Cold War it was assumed would go on for generations. Instead, five short years later it was over, the Berlin Wall was coming down and a few years later the USSR passed into history.

The appeal of Forsyth’s novels must largely rest on their documentary thoroughness (it certainly doesn’t depend on their psychological insight or depth of character, of which there is next to none). Which means they are as vulnerable as the newspapers where he learned his trade. Who wants yesterday’s papers? Let alone newspapers from 30 years ago, written in (what now seems like) crippling ignorance of what was about to happen.

Like John Buchan or Eric Ambler’s novels, Forsyth’s speak of a world which has fast receded into the past, which will soon be of historical and antiquarian interest only.

Upper class

Forsyth is incredibly posh. You can almost hear his plummy tones as you read. All the British characters went to public school ie the heads of MI5, MI6, Special Branch etc. I laughed out loud when, in the first half, the head of MI6 reveals that he not only knows the suspected mole, he went to the same school as him! The mole was his fag and cleaned his shoes. Of course he was.

These are the people, this narrow clique of privately educated, inter-married and inter-related, upper class toffs, who claimed then – as now – to speak for ‘the nation’ of 60 million extremely diverse people, the 95% of the population which didn’t go to private school, are not part of the many overlapping sets and cliques and groups which comprise the Ruling Class, the Establishment. In fact there’s a paragraph describing just this:

Brian Harcourt-Smith was the product of a very minor private school and carried on his shoulder a sizeable and quite unnecessary chip. Beneath his polished veneer he had a considerable capacity for resentment. All his life he had resented the seemingly effortless ease which the men around him could bring to the business of life. He resented their endless and interwoven network of contacts and friendships, often forged long ago in schools, universities or fighting regiments, on which they could draw when they wished. It was called the ‘old boy network’ or the ‘magic circle’, and he resented most of all that he was not a member of it. (p.126)

Even the hero, Honest John Preston, the tough, professional Army man turned agent, of course went to private school and is now sending his son to exactly the same kind of school, where he will learn the same values: cricket, philistinism, bad food, snobbery.

In this context, the very early sections of the book are unconsciously funny. Forsyth chooses to have the mole in MI6 revealed via the accident of a break-in to his posh apartment in Belgravia. These opening 30 or so pages describe in customary detail the professional burglar casing the joint and then carrying out the job, complete with minute descriptions of how he neutralises the alarm system, picks the lock, and exactly how he blows the safe. Slick, technically informed professionalism is what we expect of absolutely every character in a Forsyth novel. But as this one is a south London crook Forsyth feels he has to explain to his readers a number of facts about south London and its criminal classes. I particularly enjoyed him explaining what a ‘manor’ is, ie the territory in which a crook operates, what a ‘face’ is, ie a criminal known to the authorities, and so on. I laughed when he daintily explained that a ‘slag’ is the term of art for a hard man, a ‘heavy’.

He expects his audience to know all about Whites and Brooks and the Army and Navy (exclusive clubs for the upper classes) but to have to be carefully informed about criminal argot or south London landmarks.

[Walking to the dining room at Brooks] they passed the Cabinet Secretary, Sir Martin Flannery, coming the other way. Although they knew each other, Sir Martin saw at once that his colleague was ‘in conference’. The mandarins acknowledged each other’s presence with an imperceptible inclination of the head, sufficient for two scholars of Oxford. Backslapping is best left to foreigners. (p.510)

In fact Forsyth’s novels read as if written for the Sunday Times-reading classes, in between the Style and the Arts sections, the parts which advise you which Caribbean island to holiday on or which opera to go to. Sometimes I feel a bit too common to be reading them. Sometimes I’m surprised that anyone without an old school tie is allowed to buy them.

Benefits of the old boy network

That said, Forsyth makes a point I don’t think I’ve seen expressed quite so clearly before, which is that the old boy network works and it works precisely because its network of contacts covers the entire political, security, police and Whitehall machine. Because Nigel was at school with Jeremy, it means that now they’re the heads of MI6 and the SAS, respectively, they can talk quickly, informally, and get things done:

That the procedure can work within minutes is due in part to the fact that it has been rehearsed and honed to a fine art over and over again; and partly to the fact that the British establishment, when required to move fast, contains enough interpersonal relationships to permit a great deal of procedure to be kept at verbal level, with the inevitable paperwork left to catch up later. British bureaucracy may appear slow and cumbersome to the British but it is greased lightning compared with its European and American counterparts. (p.483)

He then goes on into characteristically Forsythian detail, explaining how: the Chief Constable of Suffolk, informed of the terrorist threat, contacts Sir Hubert Villiers in Whitehall, who briefs  his Minister and the Cabinet Secretary, who informs the Prime Minister, who gives approval to deploy the SAS, which is relayed to Sire Peregrine Jones at Defence, who knew about it anyway because he’s already had a little chat with Sir Martin, so that within sixty minutes of the first contact between the head of Suffolk constabulary and Home Office, the Director of Military Operations is talking on a scrambled line to the commanding officer of the SAS at Hereford. Phew. There is no doubting the depth of Forsyth’s research and knowledge. But it is possible to question the way he deploys it.

Condescending attitude

Given the profile of the author implied by his text with its worship of the British police and intelligence services, its rabid suspicion of the Labour Party, its smooth familiarity with the clubs and banter of Britain’s elite, it is no great surprise to read the witheringly condescending opinions of anyone left-wing which sprinkle the text. The anti-nuclear protesters and marchers who play a minor role in the novel (they hold up the Baddy as he drives back to his safe house with the nuke in his boot) prompt a few snooty put-downs.

The Tornadoes had gone back to Scotland but in their place the peace of the rustic neighbourhood had been shattered by protestors, mainly female and possessed of the strangest personal habits, who had infested the fields and set up shanty camps on patches of common ground…. [Behind the leaders of the march] came the column of pacifists, pro-Soviet Marxist-Leninists, anti-Soviet Trotskyites, lecturers and Labour activists, with an admixture of unemployed, punks, gays and bearded ecologists… Up the two sides of the road were scattered the resident female protestors, most sporting placards and banners, some in anoraks and crewcuts, who held hands with their younger lady friends or clapped the approaching marchers… (pp.462-463)

Bet none of them went to a decent school, eh?

The title

The Fourth Protocol is one of the (fictional) secret appendices to a 1968 Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty signed by the USSR and USA. It specifies that neither side may deliver nuclear devices by sneaky underhand methods eg in suitcases. They have to be dropped from planes and on the end of inter-continental ballistic missiles. Thus, the plot consists of Preston and his MI6 boss slowly realising the Russians are breaking the Fourth Protocol. Which is just not cricket, is it?


The movie

It was swiftly made into a movie, directed by John Mackenzie, starring Michael Caine and a pre-Bond Pierce Brosnan. It’s much better shot than the film adaptation of Gorky Park, much nicer to look at.

There are no women in the book (except for John Preston’s ex-wife, who has run off with a millionaire and we never meet, and the scared wife of the innocent middle-aged neighbour whose house the authorities commandeer to keep a watch on what they suspect is a Soviet ‘drop’ house in Chesterfield. She’s good at making tea, exactly as a middle-aged, non-public school Englishwoman ought to be.)

But a Hollywood movie must have sex in it, so they first invent a neighbour, who works at the air base and has a horny wife who makes a pass at Petrofsky/Brosnan. And then the bomb maker, Vassiliev, turns out not to be the cold, calculating agent of the novel but the gorgeous Joanna Cassidy. They assemble the bomb together and then the camera closes up on the sweat dripping down her cleavage. When Pierce moves in to snog her she says, ‘I thought you’d get to that,’ and so must every single person who’s ever seen the film have felt the same heavy clang of inevitability. There is a vivid sequence of them having sex before – just as inevitably – he kills her. What a thankless role for this beautiful actress.

Indeed, there is a lot of callous killing in the movie, much more than in the book. The tone is set in the opening scene where, after a long car journey to a remote dacha in the snowy Russian countryside, Philby, who has come all this way to meet the General, is instead shot in the face by his subordinate. It is crude and shocking and doesn’t happen, couldn’t happen, in the original, for we need Philby to write the very long analysis of the Labour Party which is the premise of the whole thing.

Here, his being shot in the face lacks any of the intelligence or subtlety and, of course, none of the amazing wealth of background information, which is the dominant characteristic of the book. In the final scenes of the novel, when he learns about the Russian double-cross which underpins the plot, Preston mulls over the complexity of his trade and in the postscript is seen happily leaving intelligence to go and work for a commercial security firm.

The movie, typically for this and so many other film adaptations of novels, ditches all the subtlety, reducing pages of thoughtfulness to the absolute minimum number of words, to have Michael Caine’s Preston confront Irvine and Karpov, and yell, ‘It’s about time they put you in a fucking museum’ – a trite and immature outburst nicely suited to the petulant teenagers most films are aimed at.

Glad it only cost me £1 in a charity shop.


Related links

Forsyth’s books

1971 The Day of the Jackal – It is 1963. An international assassin is hired by right-wing paramilitary organisation, the OAS, to assassinate French President, Charles de Gaulle. The novel follows the meticulous preparations of the assassin, code-name Chacal, and the equally thorough attempts of the ‘best detective in France’, Commissaire Lebel, to track him down. Surely one of the most thoroughly researched and gripping thrillers ever written.
1972 The Odessa File – It is 1963. German journalist Peter Miller goes on a quest to track down an evil former SS commandant and gets caught up in a high-level Nazi plot to help Egypt manufacture long-range missiles to attack and destroy Israel.
1974 The Dogs of War – City magnate Sir James Manson hires seasoned mercenary Cat Shannon to overthrow the dictator of the (fictional) West African country of Zangaro, so that Manson’s mining company can get its hands on a mountain virtually made of platinum. This very long novel almost entirely amounts to a mind-bogglingly detailed manual on how to organise and fund a military coup.
1975 The Shepherd – A neat slick Christmas ghost story about a post-war RAF pilot whose instruments black out over the North Sea but who is guided to safety by an apparently phantom Mosquito, flown by a pilot who disappeared without trace during the war.
1979 The Devil’s Alternative – A Cold War, geopolitical thriller confidently describing machinations at the highest levels of the White House, Downing Street and a Soviet Politburo riven by murderous factions and which is plunged into emergency by a looming grain shortage in Russia. A plot to overthrow the reforming leader of the Soviet Union evolves into a nailbiting crisis when the unexpected hijacking of an oil supertanker by fanatical Ukrainian terrorists looks like it might lead to the victory of the hawks in the Politburo, who are seeking a Russian invasion of Western Europe.
1982 No Comebacks Ten short stories combining Forsyth’s strengths of gripping technical description and clear fluent prose, with his weaknesses of cardboard characters and improbable plots, but the big surprise is how many of them are clearly comic in intention.
1984 The Fourth Protocol – Handsome, former public schoolboy, Paratroop Regiment soldier and MI5 agent John Preston, first of all uncovers the ‘mole’ working in MI5, and then tracks down the fiendish Soviet swine who is assembling a tactical nuclear device in Suffolk with a view to vaporising a nearby US Air Force base. the baddies’ plan is to rally anti-nuclear opinion against the Conservatives in the forthcoming General Election, ensuring a Labour Party victory and then (part two of the plan) replace the moderate Labour leader with an (unspecified) hard-Left figure who would leave NATO and effectively hand the UK over to the Russians. A lunatic, right-wing fantasy turned into a ‘novel’.
1989 The Negotiator – Taciturn Clint Eastwood-lookalike Quinn (no first name, just ‘Quinn’) is the best negotiator in the business, so when the President’s son is kidnapped Quinn is pulled out of quiet retirement in a Spanish village and sent to negotiate his release. What he doesn’t realise is the kidnap is just the start of a bigger conspiracy to overthrow the President himself!
1991 The Deceiver – A set of four self-contained, long short stories relating exciting incidents in the career of Sam McCready, senior officer in the British Intelligence Service, as he approaches retirement. More gripping than the previous two novels, with the fourth and final story being genuinely funny, in the style of an Ealing comedy starring Alec Guinness.
1994 The Fist of God – A journalistic account of Saddam Hussein’s 1990 invasion of Kuwait and the ensuing US-led ‘Desert Storm’ operation to throw him out, complete with insider accounts of the Western military and intelligence services and lavish descriptions of scores of hi-tech weaponry. Against this backdrop is set the story of one man – dark-skinned, Arabic-speaking Mike Martin who goes undercover posing as an Arab, first in occupied Kuwait, then – even more perilously – in Baghdad itself, before undertaking a final mission to locate and assist the destruction of Saddam’s atom bomb (!) and the Supergun designed to fire it at the Allies. Simultaneously gripping in detail and preposterous in outline.
1996 Icon – Hot shot CIA agent Jason Monk is brought out of retirement to foil a fascist coup in post-communist Russia in a novel which starts out embedded in fascinating contemporary history of Russia but quickly escalates to heights of absurdity, capped by an ending in which the Russian people are persuaded to install a distant cousin of our very own Queen as the new Tsar of All The Russias! Sure.
2001 The Veteran – Five very readable short stories: The Veteran, The Art of the Matter, The Miracle, The Citizen, and Whispering Wind – well engineered, sleek and almost devoid of real human psychology. Nonetheless, the vigilante twist of The Veteran is imaginatively powerful, and the long final story about a cowboy who wakes from a century-long magic sleep to be reunited with a reincarnation of his lost love has the eerie, primal power of a yarn by Rider Haggard.
2003 Avenger – A multi-stranded narrative which weaves together the Battle of Britain, the murder of a young American aid worker in Bosnia, the death of a young woman in America, before setting the tracking down of a Serbian war criminal to South America against a desperate plot to assassinate Osama bin Laden. The least far-fetched and most gripping Forsyth thriller for years.
2006 The Afghan – Ex-SAS man Colonel Mike Martin, hero of The Fist of God, is called out of retirement to impersonate an Afghan inmate of Guantanamo Bay in order to infiltrate Al Qaeda and prevent their next terrorist attack. Quite a gripping thriller with an amazing amount of detailed background information about Afghanistan, the Taliban, Al Qaeda, Islamic terrorism and so on.
2010 The Cobra – Two lead characters from Avenger, Paul Devereaux and Cal Dexter, are handed the task of wiping out the illegal cocaine trade on the authority of Barack Obama himself. Which leads to an awesome display of Forsyth’s trademark factual research, scores of pages building up a comprehensive picture of the drugs industry, and to the detailed description of the multi-stranded operation which almost succeeds, until lily-livered politicians step in to halt it.
2013 The Kill List – Another one about Islamic terrorism. The Preacher, who has been posting jihadi sermons online and inspiring a wave of terrorist assassinations, is tracked down and terminated by US marine Christopher Carson, aka The Tracker, with a fascinating side plot about Somali piracy thrown in. Like all Forsyth’s novels it’s packed with interesting background information but unlike many of his later novels it this one actually becomes genuinely gripping at the end.
2015 The Outsider – At age 76 Forsyth writes his autobiography in the form of a series of vignettes, anecdotes and tall tales displaying his characteristic briskness and dry humour. What an extraordinary life he’s led, and what simple, boyish fun this book is.