Auction Catalogue

16 & 17 September 2010

Starting at 1:00 PM

.

Orders, Decorations and Medals

Washington Mayfair Hotel  London  W1J 5HE

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Lot

№ 1601

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17 September 2010

Hammer Price:
£60,000

‘With blood spurting from my nose, there was barely time to put my tunic on before I was struck on the head by an officer with a long black cane whilst two soldiers held my arms. From that moment there was no let up, for the officer continued to strike at my face, knees, shins and ankles with all his strength. He struck anywhere and everywhere as I tried to escape the savage blows by twisting and turning, flinging myself from side to side, stamping on the feet of the men watching and kicking out at the thug in front. It was hopeless. The pain was unimaginable, and I begun to retch and vomit in my agony ... ’


From The General Salutes a Soldier, by J. V. Byrne, D.C.M., who just three days earlier had been shot in the face by a German officer

The extremely rare and important Second World War D.C.M. group of eight awarded to Sergeant J. V. “Jack” Byrne, Gordon Highlanders, a founder member of David Stirling’s ‘L’ Detachment, S.A.S. and, after several notable desert raids, capture and escape from Germany, an equally gallant D-Day Commando: by now a recipient of at least three wounds, his post-war career as a Police Lieutenant in Malaya was ended by a terrorist who shot him in the stomach at point-blank range - a truly remarkable record of active service recounted in his no-nonsense memoir
The General Salutes a Soldier

Distinguished Conduct Medal, G.VI.R. (2060658 Cpl. J. V. Byrne, Gordons); 1939-45 Star; Africa Star; France and Germany Star; Defence and War Medals; General Service 1918-62, 1 clasp, Malaya, G.VI.R. (1092 P./Lt. J. V. Byrne, F. of M. Pol.); Africa General Service 1902-56, 1 clasp, Kenya (Chief Officer J. V. Byrne), the last with a minor official correction to rank, very fine and better (8) £40000-50000


Of only 12 Distinguished Conduct Medals awarded to the S.A.S. in the 1939-45 War, just five were to members of David Stirling’s original ‘L’ Detachment.

D.C.M.
London Gazette 7 October 1943:

2060658 Corporal John Vincent Byrne, ‘L’ Detachment, 1st Special Air Service Regiment (The Gordon Highlanders).

The original recommendation states:

‘Corporal Byrne was captured by the Germans in Libya while returning alone from a special sabotage mission. He was sent to a Prisoner of War camp in Germany where he volunteered to act as an Officer’s batman as he thought this would give him a better opportunity of escaping. He was, accordingly, transferred to Oflag XXIB, an Officers’ camp, where he made two attempts to escape but, unfortunately, was recaptured on each occasion. On 18 July 1943, while being transferred to another camp, he escaped from a transit camp at Koenigsberg and succeeded in reaching Danzig, where he boarded a Swedish ship and finally arrived at Goteborg on 25 July 1943. This N.C.O. showed courage, pertinacity and initiative of the very highest order under the most trying circumstances.’

John Vincent “Jack” Byrne, who was born in Preston, enlisted in the 1st Battalion, The Gordon Highlanders, in February 1939. Subsequently seeing action with the B.E.F. out in France, he was twice wounded, first by shrapnel and then by a deep bayonet thrust just above the groin in a bloody hand to hand encounter during the 51st Highland Division’s rearguard action on the Dunkirk perimeter. Left for dead in the bottom of a trench, he was found in semi-conscious condition by two French civilians who carried him to the beachhead, whence he was evacuated to England.

Byrne’s wartime memoir,
The General Salutes a Soldier, explains how he then became a founding member of ‘L’ Detachment:

‘When France fell in 1940, I transferred to 11 (Scottish) Commando and served with them until the unit was disbanded after storming the beaches north of the Litani river during the invasion of Syria. By this time 7 Commando and 8 (Guards) Commando, their ranks depleted by the fighting in Crete and Tobruk, had also been disbanded. It was from these remnants of the Middle East Commandos that Captain David Stirling selected the original members of ‘L’ Detachment, the 1st Special Air Service Brigade, myself among them, which he founded in July 1941. Later the unit became the 1st S.A.S. Regiment.’

November 1941: ‘L’ Detachment’s first operation - raids on enemy airfields between Gazala and Timimi

On completion of parachute training from Bombay aircraft, Byrne took part in ‘L’ Detachment’s first operational jump on the night of 16 November 1941. The objective was the destruction of enemy aircraft on five airfields between Timini and Gazala on the eve of “Operation Crusader” - Auchinleck’s offensive to relieve Tobruk. Conditions on the chosen night, however, were wholly unsuitable, for there was no moon and high winds whipped up clouds of dust which made accurate navigation impossible. None of the parachutists landed within ten miles of the pre-arranged drop zones, and only a handful of the supply canisters could be found. At least two men were killed on landing by being dragged along the ground and many others suffered broken bones and minor injuries. Reluctantly Stirling cancelled the mission and struck out for the rendezvous with the Chevrolet trucks of the Long Range Desert Group (L.R.D.G.). Only four officers and 18 other ranks, out of a total of 53 men, returned to the safety of British lines. It was to be their first and last parachute operation in the desert, Stirling thereafter deciding that future raids be mounted in co-operation with the L.R.D.G.

December 1941: The raid on Agedabia airfield

Notwithstanding this costly first adventure, Stirling’s ‘L’ Detachment continued to operate with smaller raiding parties and, before too long, with notable success, an operation to Tamet airfield under “Paddy” Mayne resulting in the destruction of 24 enemy aircraft - and at least one source credits Byrne as being among the assault force. Be that as it may, barely ten days later, Byrne was very much present in the spectacularly successful strike against Agedabia airfield, when no less than 37 enemy aircraft were destroyed by a team of just five men. The General Salutes a Soldier takes up the story:

‘During December 1941 a battle group of armour and motorised infantry code-named ‘E’ Force, under the command of Brigadier Reid, was ordered to attack and take Agedabia in Cyrenaica. The S.A.S. were to assist by attacking the airfield nearby the night before and destroying the enemy aircraft on the ground.

‘L’ Detachment, 1st Special Air Service, under the command of its founder, Captain David Stirling, was at this time based at the oasis of Jalo in the Western Desert. We were now only twenty-two strong, all that remained of the fifty-three soldiers who took part in our forlorn parachute raid on the enemy airfields of Gazala and Timimi on the eve of the 8th Army’s November offensive.

David Stirling decided that five of us should carry out the attack on Agedabia airfield, and his plan was a simple one. During the hours of darkness a patrol of the Long Range Desert Group would take us in their Chevrolet trucks to a position in the desert about fifteen miles south of our objective. The patrol would then withdraw, leaving us to continue on foot towards the airfield until suitable cover was found in which to lie up and observe. At dusk the next day we would continue our approach march to the airfield and destroy the aircraft.

When it was dark, we set off, the others taking turns leading, marching soundlessly at about one mile per hour. Maintaining complete silence the whole time, we stopped for a moment in each hour, for our bladders were proving troublesome. Three hours later Philips, the man I was following, passed back a signal for me to go forward. On reaching the front, I found Bill Fraser and Bob Tait kneeling before a two-strand wire fence, presumably the outer perimeter of the airfield. Standing up, Bill put his hand on my shoulder and pointed into the darkness. It was my turn to take the lead.

Stepping over the fence, I strode onto the airfield, the others following. Moving swiftly, we soon reached the runway, on the other side of which was the first batch of aircraft, a mixed bag of fighters and bombers of all types. Losing no time, we set to work placing our bombs high up on the wings of the bombers and on the noses of the fighters. Jeff du Viviex and I wasted a few minutes inside a huge transport plane hunting for souvenirs but it was too dark to search properly. We left the plane together just in time to stop Bill Fraser climbing on the wing with a bomb, for Jeff had left one inside.

The aircraft were parked close together in clusters, each group about 200 yards apart. Keeping together, we dealt with every plane in each batch before moving on to the next. During all this time we saw no sign of any enemy personnel. When it was thought there were no more planes, Bill Fraser and Bob Tait put bombs on a tractor and a covered lorry which were parked together in the centre of the runway.

Punctually, the first of our time-bombs exploded and the aircraft burst into flames. Other bombs followed, exploding in quick succession until the centre of the airfield was one great forest of fires. Then, as enemy machine-guns began firing tracer bullets on fixed lines down two sides of the airfield and partly across our escape route, searchlights probed the sky, mistakingly believing the R.A.F. were overhead. Their anti-aircraft guns too soon joined in sending up great sheets of exploding flak. There was the most tremendous din, with ammunition crackling in the exploding and burning aircraft, the continuous rattle of machine-guns and, noisiest of all, the rapid-firing flak guns. The enemy, convinced that they were being attacked by bombers of the Royal Air Force, made no attempt to save their aircraft and wisely remained in their bunkers and foxholes, for not one aimed shot came our way.

It was at this moment that we spotted the eight German fighters. They were about fifty yards away to our right, clearly visible now by the light of the other burning aircraft, all eight bring parked very close together, nose to tail. Bill Fraser shouted to me above the din, ‘Collect all the remaining bombs.’ I counted them into my haversack as the others reluctantly handed them over. There were seven, for I had used all my own bombs. To the others, Bill shouted, ‘You three make your way back to the rendezvous. Bob you’re in charge.’ Bob answered for all of them: ‘Get on with it. We’ll wait here.’

Whilst Bill and I were running hard towards the fighters, I squeezed the time-pencils of two of the bombs and for good measure jerked the pull-switches; the bombs should now explode in fourteen seconds. It took only a moment to place a bomb on each plane – all ME 109 Fs, apparently brand new, each one having a canvas-type horse-blanket strapped around its fuselage.

Bill stood watch at the wingtip of each plane whilst I placed the bombs. Twice he held out a hand to take the tommy-gun from me but I pretended not to notice. When we got to the seventh fighter, I ran straight past it, putting the last bomb on the eighth whilst Bill remained standing by the seventh fighter, shouting his head off until I displayed an empty hand. As we turned to run back to the others, the first four of the fighters went up in flames almost together, and within seconds all eight were burning fiercely, the planes being so close together that one well-placed bomb in the centre of the row would probably have destroyed the lot.

Together again, all five of us added to the bedlam by shouting to each other, pointing out the destruction all around. The whole area was light as day and we would have been clearly visible to anyone who wanted to see. Spreading out in one long line, we marched off the airfield in style, taking giant strides. We made for a point well to the left of the entrance to the desert track in order to avoid the position of a possible enemy fort. As we went, we heard unmistakably above the din the droning engines of the R.A.F. bombers. There were three of them high overhead and as they stooged around, dropping their bombs, the fort at the entrance to the desert track fired on one of them, briefly giving its position away, enabling us to enter the desert well clear of it.’

March 1942: The raid on Berka airfield

It was as a result of just such operations that Allied radio said of Stirling and his men, ‘The whole world rings with their exploits’, and, encouraged by such supportive rhetoric, Byrne and his comrades kept up their gallant work, though not always with the desired results. Thus an empty bag on visiting an enemy airfield near “Mussolini’s Marble Arch” at the end of December and, worse still, a missed rendezvous with the L.R.D.G., Byrne and his four comrades undertaking a 200 mile desert trek before hijacking a German staff car to complete their journey - an epic achievement even by S.A.S. standards and accordingly described in The Phantom Major as ‘one of the great adventures of the African campaign.’

Byrne’s next operation was a strike against Berka airfield, one of several such targets selected for Stirling’s March 1942 operational agenda:

‘We were now based at Cleopatra’s oasis of Siwa, and from there we set out in an assortment of vehicles to attack the enemy airfields of Berka Main and Bnina Satellite. There were five thirty-hundredweight Chevrolets, one of which carried a folbot (light canoe) for the Special Boat Section; a three-tonner with extra petrol to be dumped en route and picked up on our way back; a small captured German wireless car for decoy purposes, and the colonel’s staff car with the top cut off.

Those taking part in this operation included our Commanding Officer, Colonel David Stirling, Major Paddy Mayne, five Corporals (of whom I was one), an officer and a Sergeant of the Special Boat Section, two Arab scouts and last, but not least, the soldiers of the Long Range Desert Group.

On the second day out the German wireless car was damaged by an Italian thermos mine and had to be abandoned. Its driver and the S.B.S. officer, both wounded by the mine were sent back to Siwa in the three-tonner but, before leaving, the vehicle was unloaded and the reserve petrol buried nearby. We pushed on, reaching the green hills east of Benghazi the next day without further incident and, having carefully camouflaged our vehicles, settled down for the night.

During the next few days we prepared to attack the airfields. The S.A.S. were to be taken by the Desert Group to the foothills five miles east of Berka. From there Colonel Stirling, Johnnie Cooper and Reg Seekings were to continue in the staff car to attack Bnina. At the same time Paddy Mayne, Rose, Bob Bennett and myself were to attack Berka Main. We were all to return to the rendezvous in the foothills by 0200 hours the next morning. We were also given the map reference of a second rendezvous for the vehicles, thirty miles from the first. Every man was equipped with a pistol, grenades and fifteen made-up Lewes bombs. In addition, Bob Bennett and I carried a tommy-gun each.

The patrol set off according to the plan soon after dark, but the going proved difficult. It was pitch black and every few hundred yards the track had to be cleared of huge boulders and other debris. The foothills were particularly hazardous because the loose rocks that we disturbed on the way down overtook us, crashing into the backs and sides of the trucks. It was 0130 hours before we left the vehicles, which meant it was no longer possible to return to the first rendezvous by the appointed time. Keeping up a good pace, we reached the main coast road in less than an hour. The airfield lay between the road and the sea.

Carefully crossing the road in the darkness, we crept onto the airfield, almost all at once coming across two German sentries who were standing together smoking near an anti-aircraft gun. Rose removed the cover from the barrel of the gun so that I could stuff a bomb into it after first squeezing the time-pencil. Later, under some trees, we discovered the first of a series of bomb-dumps which were dug in and covered by tarpaulins. Wasting no time, we began placing our bombs, passing rapidly from dump to dump. It was dark and quiet and apart from the two sentries there was no one about. Soon afterwards Paddy decided to search for the aircraft with Bob, leaving Rose and myself to continue laying bombs in the dumps, which we found at regular intervals.

Then, without warning, the bomb we had left in the barrel of the anti-aircraft gun exploded. Other explosions followed almost immediately as the first of the bomb-dumps went up with a terrific continuous roar, dump after dump belching out flames and smoke as they exploded in rapid succession. Running now, Rose and I left the last of our bombs in a petrol-dump and a timber-yard, making good use of the quick-action pull switches.

Recrossing the road, we ran hard towards the foothills, encouraged every few minutes by a deafening roar as the dumps exploded behind us. The whole sky seemed to be alight with thick black smoke, forming a ceiling high overhead, until finally enemy anti-aircraft guns commenced firing, knocking lumps out of the smoke. Rose and I walked and ran until we reached a dried-up well partly surrounded by the remains of a low wall. We sat with our backs to the wall, waiting for the explosions to die down, then continued walking towards the hills.

We discussed our next move. Rose wanted to make for the first rendezvous, which I thought was a waste of time as the patrol would have left long ago. I thought it best to head straight to the second rendezvous, where the vehicles would re-gather. We argued the matter at length as we walked and, unable to agree, decided to separate. Rose going on at a cracking pace whilst I plodded steadily towards the foothills, reaching them just before dark.’

At dawn, Byrne set off under a burning sun and covered 30 miles on the first day, having resolved to drink from his precious two-pint water-bottle at dusk only. He walked through the night and continued next day until forced to a halt by a sandstorm. On the third day he threw away his Tommy gun, and was violently sick when he tried to drink the last of his water which had turned to slime through repeated swilling. On the fourth day his life was saved by Arabs who gave him water and food, and on the fifth day, when 70 miles from Allied lines, he stumbled into a German patrol. A German officer emerged from the turret of a tank and ran towards him. Byrne continues:

‘He stopped about three feet away, breathing heavily, his pistol held in front of him within inches of my face. As I yanked my revolver from its holster and flung it on the ground, the German, either, nervous or sensing defiance drew back his pistol to strike me, then fired point-blank into my face. I fell, half stunned, face down in the sand, blood spurting from nose and temple.’

In fact the bullet had brushed across his face and, after some medical assistance from the Germans, Byrne was able to rally himself for the ordeal ahead. Shortly afterwards he was brought before a General commanding a large concentration of vehicles, who gave instructions that he should be classified as an aircrew P.O.W., which meant that he would be flown to Germany, instead of being shipped to Italy as was normal with Army P.O.Ws - but not before receiving several savage beatings at the hands of an Italian officer and guards when they discovered he had been concealing his fighting knife in the interim (as quoted above).

Flown to Athens in a Junkers 52, he was taken by rail to Dulag Luft, the Allied aircrew interrogation centre near Frankfurt, from whence he was sent to the N.C.O’s Compound at Stalag Luft III at Sagan. Here, finding no opportunity to escape, he volunteered to work as an officer’s servant in the hope of being moved to another camp, and in September 1942, was transferred Oflag XXI B at Schubin.


Escape from Germany

As recounted in great detail in Byrne’s subsequent interview with M.I.9 in August 1943, it was from Schubin that he made his first bid for freedom, when, in October 1942, while working as a swill orderly in the camp pigsties, he slipped his guards - but was recaptured in the local town shortly thereafter. His made his second attempt in March 1943, when he hid in a garage while on coal fatigue - having removed his uniform to reveal pin-striped trousers and morning coat, he made his way to the pigsties where he found a bicycle and then set off towards the nearby town of Bromberg. Byrne spent the next night in a wood and then proceeded south then east and became lost in some marshes - the place names on his maps being in Polish. On the 18th and 19th he boarded several empty trains and was shunted from one place to another, while on the 20th he was accosted when changing trains by a German railway worker and handed over to the police who identified him from a police gazette. He was returned to Stalag Luft III under guard and given 24 days in the cooler.

On 16 July 1943 Byrne and five R.A.F. aircrew spent the night at a transit camp at Königsberg while en route to Stalag Luft VI at Heidekrug. Next morning, he lowered himself into a latrine drain and passed into a neighbouring Russian compound from which he escaped by breaking through a rusty fence with his bare hands - the whole procedure taking about five minutes. That night he made his way to Königsberg docks and fell in with some French forced labourers. Supplied with a suit of blue overalls, food, money and much advice, Byrne stole a bicycle on the 19th and by a circuitous route, induced by the necessity of by-passing several checkpoints, arrived in Danzig at dawn on the 21st, having spent the intervening nights up a tree and in an old signal box. With help of another Frenchman he reached the docks and, mingling with a working party, slipped past a lethargic German guard as it began to rain and boarded a Swedish ship. He hid in the bowels of the ship for the next two days until at last it began to move. A few hours later he revealed himself to the crew and demanded and interview with the Captain who duly congratulated him on his escape.

And, as was the custom for P.O.Ws who made it to Sweden, he returned to the U.K. in an unarmed Mosquito on 14 August 1943; the full version of Byrne’s M.I. 9 report is published in
Those Who Dared, Gallantry Awards to the British S.A.S. and Attached S.B.S. Units 1941-46, by Philip Eyre (A Token Title, 2002).


The General Salutes a Soldier

After a period of recuperation and re-training at the Commando Depot in Scotland, he was posted 6 Commando, which formed part of Lord Lovat’s 1st Special Service Brigade, with the rank of Lance-Sergeant. Then in April 1944, he was selected to take part in a carefully scripted campaign to promote the sale of National Savings Certificates with General Sir Frederick Pile, commander of the City of London’s A.A. defences, an appointment that led to him addressing an enthusiastic crowd in Trafalgar Square and taking part in a BBC radio broadcast. So, too, of having Pile salute him before the gathered throng, a gesture that provided Byrne with the title for his wartime memoirs.
D-Day

In May he went into a sealed camp with 6 Commando on the south coast and on D-Day landed on Queen Red section of Sword Beach. Byrne takes up the story:

‘The task of the 1st Special Service Brigade of which 6 Commando was part was to infiltrate through the enemy defensive positions in the landing area, which was near a small town at the mouth of a river, and link up with the 6th Airborne Division, which was being dropped during the hours of darkness to secure bridges over a river and a canal. Once over the river and canal, we were to advance to a position on the extreme left flank of our invading army and defend it against all comers. We were not under any circumstances to get bogged down in a fire fight, with the enemy whilst infiltrating through their coastal defences or attack strongpoints or attempt to mop up pockets of resistance. All that would be dealt with by those following up, for our objectives were vital and must be achieved at all costs. We must simply pierce the enemy defences and make with all possible speed first to the bridges, hopefully still held by the Airborne, then on to our defensive position on the left flank. The brigade was to be spearheaded by 6 Commando, of which our troop was to lead, with each of its four sub-sections taking turns to be point.’

Of only 12 Distinguished Conduct Medals awarded to the S.A.S. in the 1939-45 War, just five were to members of David Stirling’s original ‘L’ Detachment.

D.C.M.
London Gazette 7 October 1943:

2060658 Corporal John Vincent Byrne, ‘L’ Detachment, 1st Special Air Service Regiment (The Gordon Highlanders).

The original recommendation states:

‘Corporal Byrne was captured by the Germans in Libya while returning alone from a special sabotage mission. He was sent to a Prisoner of War camp in Germany where he volunteered to act as an Officer’s batman as he thought this would give him a better opportunity of escaping. He was, accordingly, transferred to Oflag XXIB, an Officers’ camp, where he made two attempts to escape but, unfortunately, was recaptured on each occasion. On 18 July 1943, while being transferred to another camp, he escaped from a transit camp at Koenigsberg and succeeded in reaching Danzig, where he boarded a Swedish ship and finally arrived at Goteborg on 25 July 1943. This N.C.O. showed courage, pertinacity and initiative of the very highest order under the most trying circumstances.’

John Vincent “Jack” Byrne, who was born in Preston, enlisted in the 1st Battalion, The Gordon Highlanders, in February 1939. Subsequently seeing action with the B.E.F. out in France, he was twice wounded, first by shrapnel and then by a deep bayonet thrust just above the groin in a bloody hand to hand encounter during the 51st Highland Division’s rearguard action on the Dunkirk perimeter. Left for dead in the bottom of a trench, he was found in semi-conscious condition by two French civilians who carried him to the beachhead, whence he was evacuated to England.

Byrne’s wartime memoir,
The General Salutes a Soldier, explains how he then became a founding member of ‘L’ Detachment:

‘When France fell in 1940, I transferred to 11 (Scottish) Commando and served with them until the unit was disbanded after storming the beaches north of the Litani river during the invasion of Syria. By this time 7 Commando and 8 (Guards) Commando, their ranks depleted by the fighting in Crete and Tobruk, had also been disbanded. It was from these remnants of the Middle East Commandos that Captain David Stirling selected the original members of ‘L’ Detachment, the 1st Special Air Service Brigade, myself among them, which he founded in July 1941. Later the unit became the 1st S.A.S. Regiment.’

November 1941: ‘L’ Detachment’s first operation - raids on enemy airfields between Gazala and Timimi

On completion of parachute training from Bombay aircraft, Byrne took part in ‘L’ Detachment’s first operational jump on the night of 16 November 1941. The objective was the destruction of enemy aircraft on five airfields between Timini and Gazala on the eve of “Operation Crusader” - Auchinleck’s offensive to relieve Tobruk. Conditions on the chosen night, however, were wholly unsuitable, for there was no moon and high winds whipped up clouds of dust which made accurate navigation impossible. None of the parachutists landed within ten miles of the pre-arranged drop zones, and only a handful of the supply canisters could be found. At least two men were killed on landing by being dragged along the ground and many others suffered broken bones and minor injuries. Reluctantly Stirling cancelled the mission and struck out for the rendezvous with the Chevrolet trucks of the Long Range Desert Group (L.R.D.G.). Only four officers and 18 other ranks, out of a total of 53 men, returned to the safety of British lines. It was to be their first and last parachute operation in the desert, Stirling thereafter deciding that future raids be mounted in co-operation with the L.R.D.G.

December 1941: The raid on Agedabia airfield

Notwithstanding this costly first adventure, Stirling’s ‘L’ Detachment continued to operate with smaller raiding parties and, before too long, with notable success, an operation to Tamet airfield under “Paddy” Mayne resulting in the destruction of 24 enemy aircraft - and at least one source credits Byrne as being among the assault force. Be that as it may, barely ten days later, Byrne was very much present in the spectacularly successful strike against Agedabia airfield, when no less than 37 enemy aircraft were destroyed by a team of just five men. The General Salutes a Soldier takes up the story:

‘During December 1941 a battle group of armour and motorised infantry code-named ‘E’ Force, under the command of Brigadier Reid, was ordered to attack and take Agedabia in Cyrenaica. The S.A.S. were to assist by attacking the airfield nearby the night before and destroying the enemy aircraft on the ground.

‘L’ Detachment, 1st Special Air Service, under the command of its founder, Captain David Stirling, was at this time based at the oasis of Jalo in the Western Desert. We were now only twenty-two strong, all that remained of the fifty-three soldiers who took part in our forlorn parachute raid on the enemy airfields of Gazala and Timimi on the eve of the 8th Army’s November offensive.

David Stirling decided that five of us should carry out the attack on Agedabia airfield, and his plan was a simple one. During the hours of darkness a patrol of the Long Range Desert Group would take us in their Chevrolet trucks to a position in the desert about fifteen miles south of our objective. The patrol would then withdraw, leaving us to continue on foot towards the airfield until suitable cover was found in which to lie up and observe. At dusk the next day we would continue our approach march to the airfield and destroy the aircraft.

When it was dark, we set off, the others taking turns leading, marching soundlessly at about one mile per hour. Maintaining complete silence the whole time, we stopped for a moment in each hour, for our bladders were proving troublesome. Three hours later Philips, the man I was following, passed back a signal for me to go forward. On reaching the front, I found Bill Fraser and Bob Tait kneeling before a two-strand wire fence, presumably the outer perimeter of the airfield. Standing up, Bill put his hand on my shoulder and pointed into the darkness. It was my turn to take the lead.

Stepping over the fence, I strode onto the airfield, the others following. Moving swiftly, we soon reached the runway, on the other side of which was the first batch of aircraft, a mixed bag of fighters and bombers of all types. Losing no time, we set to work placing our bombs high up on the wings of the bombers and on the noses of the fighters. Jeff du Viviex and I wasted a few minutes inside a huge transport plane hunting for souvenirs but it was too dark to search properly. We left the plane together just in time to stop Bill Fraser climbing on the wing with a bomb, for Jeff had left one inside.

The aircraft were parked close together in clusters, each group about 200 yards apart. Keeping together, we dealt with every plane in each batch before moving on to the next. During all this time we saw no sign of any enemy personnel. When it was thought there were no more planes, Bill Fraser and Bob Tait put bombs on a tractor and a covered lorry which were parked together in the centre of the runway.

Punctually, the first of our time-bombs exploded and the aircraft burst into flames. Other bombs followed, exploding in quick succession until the centre of the airfield was one great forest of fires. Then, as enemy machine-guns began firing tracer bullets on fixed lines down two sides of the airfield and partly across our escape route, searchlights probed the sky, mistakingly believing the R.A.F. were overhead. Their anti-aircraft guns too soon joined in sending up great sheets of exploding flak. There was the most tremendous din, with ammunition crackling in the exploding and burning aircraft, the continuous rattle of machine-guns and, noisiest of all, the rapid-firing flak guns. The enemy, convinced that they were being attacked by bombers of the Royal Air Force, made no attempt to save their aircraft and wisely remained in their bunkers and foxholes, for not one aimed shot came our way.

It was at this moment that we spotted the eight German fighters. They were about fifty yards away to our right, clearly visible now by the light of the other burning aircraft, all eight bring parked very close together, nose to tail. Bill Fraser shouted to me above the din, ‘Collect all the remaining bombs.’ I counted them into my haversack as the others reluctantly handed them over. There were seven, for I had used all my own bombs. To the others, Bill shouted, ‘You three make your way back to the rendezvous. Bob you’re in charge.’ Bob answered for all of them: ‘Get on with it. We’ll wait here.’

Whilst Bill and I were running hard towards the fighters, I squeezed the time-pencils of two of the bombs and for good measure jerked the pull-switches; the bombs should now explode in fourteen seconds. It took only a moment to place a bomb on each plane – all ME 109 Fs, apparently brand new, each one having a canvas-type horse-blanket strapped around its fuselage.

Bill stood watch at the wingtip of each plane whilst I placed the bombs. Twice he held out a hand to take the tommy-gun from me but I pretended not to notice. When we got to the seventh fighter, I ran straight past it, putting the last bomb on the eighth whilst Bill remained standing by the seventh fighter, shouting his head off until I displayed an empty hand. As we turned to run back to the others, the first four of the fighters went up in flames almost together, and within seconds all eight were burning fiercely, the planes being so close together that one well-placed bomb in the centre of the row would probably have destroyed the lot.

Together again, all five of us added to the bedlam by shouting to each other, pointing out the destruction all around. The whole area was light as day and we would have been clearly visible to anyone who wanted to see. Spreading out in one long line, we marched off the airfield in style, taking giant strides. We made for a point well to the left of the entrance to the desert track in order to avoid the position of a possible enemy fort. As we went, we heard unmistakably above the din the droning engines of the R.A.F. bombers. There were three of them high overhead and as they stooged around, dropping their bombs, the fort at the entrance to the desert track fired on one of them, briefly giving its position away, enabling us to enter the desert well clear of it.’

March 1942: The raid on Berka airfield

It was as a result of just such operations that Allied radio said of Stirling and his men, ‘The whole world rings with their exploits’, and, encouraged by such supportive rhetoric, Byrne and his comrades kept up their gallant work, though not always with the desired results. Thus an empty bag on visiting an enemy airfield near “Mussolini’s Marble Arch” at the end of December and, worse still, a missed rendezvous with the L.R.D.G., Byrne and his four comrades undertaking a 200 mile desert trek before hijacking a German staff car to complete their journey - an epic achievement even by S.A.S. standards and accordingly described in The Phantom Major as ‘one of the great adventures of the African campaign.’

Byrne’s next operation was a strike against Berka airfield, one of several such targets selected for Stirling’s March 1942 operational agenda:

‘We were now based at Cleopatra’s oasis of Siwa, and from there we set out in an assortment of vehicles to attack the enemy airfields of Berka Main and Bnina Satellite. There were five thirty-hundredweight Chevrolets, one of which carried a folbot (light canoe) for the Special Boat Section; a three-tonner with extra petrol to be dumped en route and picked up on our way back; a small captured German wireless car for decoy purposes, and the colonel’s staff car with the top cut off.

Those taking part in this operation included our Commanding Officer, Colonel David Stirling, Major Paddy Mayne, five Corporals (of whom I was one), an officer and a Sergeant of the Special Boat Section, two Arab scouts and last, but not least, the soldiers of the Long Range Desert Group.

On the second day out the German wireless car was damaged by an Italian thermos mine and had to be abandoned. Its driver and the S.B.S. officer, both wounded by the mine were sent back to Siwa in the three-tonner but, before leaving, the vehicle was unloaded and the reserve petrol buried nearby. We pushed on, reaching the green hills east of Benghazi the next day without further incident and, having carefully camouflaged our vehicles, settled down for the night.

During the next few days we prepared to attack the airfields. The S.A.S. were to be taken by the Desert Group to the foothills five miles east of Berka. From there Colonel Stirling, Johnnie Cooper and Reg Seekings were to continue in the staff car to attack Bnina. At the same time Paddy Mayne, Rose, Bob Bennett and myself were to attack Berka Main. We were all to return to the rendezvous in the foothills by 0200 hours the next morning. We were also given the map reference of a second rendezvous for the vehicles, thirty miles from the first. Every man was equipped with a pistol, grenades and fifteen made-up Lewes bombs. In addition, Bob Bennett and I carried a tommy-gun each.

The patrol set off according to the plan soon after dark, but the going proved difficult. It was pitch black and every few hundred yards the track had to be cleared of huge boulders and other debris. The foothills were particularly hazardous because the loose rocks that we disturbed on the way down overtook us, crashing into the backs and sides of the trucks. It was 0130 hours before we left the vehicles, which meant it was no longer possible to return to the first rendezvous by the appointed time. Keeping up a good pace, we reached the main coast road in less than an hour. The airfield lay between the road and the sea.

Carefully crossing the road in the darkness, we crept onto the airfield, almost all at once coming across two German sentries who were standing together smoking near an anti-aircraft gun. Rose removed the cover from the barrel of the gun so that I could stuff a bomb into it after first squeezing the time-pencil. Later, under some trees, we discovered the first of a series of bomb-dumps which were dug in and covered by tarpaulins. Wasting no time, we began placing our bombs, passing rapidly from dump to dump. It was dark and quiet and apart from the two sentries there was no one about. Soon afterwards Paddy decided to search for the aircraft with Bob, leaving Rose and myself to continue laying bombs in the dumps, which we found at regular intervals.

Then, without warning, the bomb we had left in the barrel of the anti-aircraft gun exploded. Other explosions followed almost immediately as the first of the bomb-dumps went up with a terrific continuous roar, dump after dump belching out flames and smoke as they exploded in rapid succession. Running now, Rose and I left the last of our bombs in a petrol-dump and a timber-yard, making good use of the quick-action pull switches.

Recrossing the road, we ran hard towards the foothills, encouraged every few minutes by a deafening roar as the dumps exploded behind us. The whole sky seemed to be alight with thick black smoke, forming a ceiling high overhead, until finally enemy anti-aircraft guns commenced firing, knocking lumps out of the smoke. Rose and I walked and ran until we reached a dried-up well partly surrounded by the remains of a low wall. We sat with our backs to the wall, waiting for the explosions to die down, then continued walking towards the hills.

We discussed our next move. Rose wanted to make for the first rendezvous, which I thought was a waste of time as the patrol would have left long ago. I thought it best to head straight to the second rendezvous, where the vehicles would re-gather. We argued the matter at length as we walked and, unable to agree, decided to separate. Rose going on at a cracking pace whilst I plodded steadily towards the foothills, reaching them just before dark.’

At dawn, Byrne set off under a burning sun and covered 30 miles on the first day, having resolved to drink from his precious two-pint water-bottle at dusk only. He walked through the night and continued next day until forced to a halt by a sandstorm. On the third day he threw away his Tommy gun, and was violently sick when he tried to drink the last of his water which had turned to slime through repeated swilling. On the fourth day his life was saved by Arabs who gave him water and food, and on the fifth day, when 70 miles from Allied lines, he stumbled into a German patrol. A German officer emerged from the turret of a tank and ran towards him. Byrne continues:

‘He stopped about three feet away, breathing heavily, his pistol held in front of him within inches of my face. As I yanked my revolver from its holster and flung it on the ground, the German, either, nervous or sensing defiance drew back his pistol to strike me, then fired point-blank into my face. I fell, half stunned, face down in the sand, blood spurting from nose and temple.’

In fact the bullet had brushed across his face and, after some medical assistance from the Germans, Byrne was able to rally himself for the ordeal ahead. Shortly afterwards he was brought before a General commanding a large concentration of vehicles, who gave instructions that he should be classified as an aircrew P.O.W., which meant that he would be flown to Germany, instead of being shipped to Italy as was normal with Army P.O.Ws - but not before receiving several savage beatings at the hands of an Italian officer and guards when they discovered he had been concealing his fighting knife in the interim (as quoted above).

Flown to Athens in a Junkers 52, he was taken by rail to Dulag Luft, the Allied aircrew interrogation centre near Frankfurt, from whence he was sent to the N.C.O’s Compound at Stalag Luft III at Sagan. Here, finding no opportunity to escape, he volunteered to work as an officer’s servant in the hope of being moved to another camp, and in September 1942, was transferred Oflag XXI B at Schubin.


Escape from Germany

As recounted in great detail in Byrne’s subsequent interview with M.I.9 in August 1943, it was from Schubin that he made his first bid for freedom, when, in October 1942, while working as a swill orderly in the camp pigsties, he slipped his guards - but was recaptured in the local town shortly thereafter. His made his second attempt in March 1943, when he hid in a garage while on coal fatigue - having removed his uniform to reveal pin-striped trousers and morning coat, he made his way to the pigsties where he found a bicycle and then set off towards the nearby town of Bromberg. Byrne spent the next night in a wood and then proceeded south then east and became lost in some marshes - the place names on his maps being in Polish. On the 18th and 19th he boarded several empty trains and was shunted from one place to another, while on the 20th he was accosted when changing trains by a German railway worker and handed over to the police who identified him from a police gazette. He was returned to Stalag Luft III under guard and given 24 days in the cooler.

On 16 July 1943 Byrne and five R.A.F. aircrew spent the night at a transit camp at Königsberg while en route to Stalag Luft VI at Heidekrug. Next morning, he lowered himself into a latrine drain and passed into a neighbouring Russian compound from which he escaped by breaking through a rusty fence with his bare hands - the whole procedure taking about five minutes. That night he made his way to Königsberg docks and fell in with some French forced labourers. Supplied with a suit of blue overalls, food, money and much advice, Byrne stole a bicycle on the 19th and by a circuitous route, induced by the necessity of by-passing several checkpoints, arrived in Danzig at dawn on the 21st, having spent the intervening nights up a tree and in an old signal box. With help of another Frenchman he reached the docks and, mingling with a working party, slipped past a lethargic German guard as it began to rain and boarded a Swedish ship. He hid in the bowels of the ship for the next two days until at last it began to move. A few hours later he revealed himself to the crew and demanded and interview with the Captain who duly congratulated him on his escape.

And, as was the custom for P.O.Ws who made it to Sweden, he returned to the U.K. in an unarmed Mosquito on 14 August 1943; the full version of Byrne’s M.I. 9 report is published in
Those Who Dared, Gallantry Awards to the British S.A.S. and Attached S.B.S. Units 1941-46, by Philip Eyre (A Token Title, 2002).


The General Salutes a Soldier

After a period of recuperation and re-training at the Commando Depot in Scotland, he was posted 6 Commando, which formed part of Lord Lovat’s 1st Special Service Brigade, with the rank of Lance-Sergeant. Then in April 1944, he was selected to take part in a carefully scripted campaign to promote the sale of National Savings Certificates with General Sir Frederick Pile, commander of the City of London’s A.A. defences, an appointment that led to him addressing an enthusiastic crowd in Trafalgar Square and taking part in a BBC radio broadcast. So, too, of having Pile salute him before the gathered throng, a gesture that provided Byrne with the title for his wartime memoirs.
D-Day

In May he went into a sealed camp with 6 Commando on the south coast and on D-Day landed on Queen Red section of Sword Beach. Byrne takes up the story:

‘The task of the 1st Special Service Brigade of which 6 Commando was part was to infiltrate through the enemy defensive positions in the landing area, which was near a small town at the mouth of a river, and link up with the 6th Airborne Division, which was being dropped during the hours of darkness to secure bridges over a river and a canal. Once over the river and canal, we were to advance to a position on the extreme left flank of our invading army and defend it against all comers. We were not under any circumstances to get bogged down in a fire fight, with the enemy whilst infiltrating through their coastal defences or attack strongpoints or attempt to mop up pockets of resistance. All that would be dealt with by those following up, for our objectives were vital and must be achieved at all costs. We must simply pierce the enemy defences and make with all possible speed first to the bridges, hopefully still held by the Airborne, then on to our defensive position on the left flank. The brigade was to be spearheaded by 6 Commando, of which our troop was to lead, with each of its four sub-sections taking turns to be point.’

He continues:

‘The 1st Special Service Brigade were pouring out of the ships in grand style, covering the sea in green berets, all bobbing their way to the beach in little rivers of soldiers, each contingent moving in single file with every man holding his weapon clear of the water either at the high port or across his shoulders. Paddy’s sub-section was about twenty yards to our left, wading across neck-and-neck with us. Most frightening of all was the continuous machine-gun fire, for we could all see it coming as it ripped across the water occasionally petering out before reaching us or going on past. Although not religious, I could, like most soldiers, be easily persuaded to pray by shellfire, a few bombs, or a well-aimed burst of machine-gun fire. I prayed now every inch of the way for I did not want to die in the sea after having come so far. Looking back towards Private Graham and Private Croal who were nearest to me, and with nothing more in mind than to keep my sub-section occupied during the long walk to the beach, I shouted above the din, ‘Fix bayonets. Pass it back.’

Nearing the shore, in shallower water, we could almost run, far outdistancing those behind. Private Graham, Private Croal and I reached the beach almost together, the water pouring out of our rucksacks. With the others stringing out behind, we ran straight forward towards a huge building with its front punched in by naval gunfire. Nearing it, we came under fire from light automatic weapons; then a rifle grenade, lobbed from somewhere behind the partly demolished building, wobbled towards us and exploded in front of Private Graham, who fell and lay still. To the left of the building and slightly in front was a long, newly dug trench. In it and strewn all around were the gruesome remains of the German defenders. Although an attempt had been made to revet the sides of the trench with timber to keep out the sand, it was full of water as well as bodies. Pausing in front of the trench, I looked back towards where Private Graham had fallen, just as Corporal Todd, who had been examining him, looked up and shouted, ‘He’s dead.’

Whilst I was off guard, two of the dead Germans in the trench behind me decided to come to life. Corporal Todd, reacting like lightening, ran up and, firing from the hip with his rifle at point-blank range, shot one dead. At the same time Private Croal, who was almost facing me, unable to aim because I was in his line of fire, lunged forward with the utmost violence and, shouldering me aside, bayoneted the second German in the upper part of the throat, impaling him on a wooden stake in the back of the trench. The point of the bayonet entered the neck just above the chinstrap and came out at the side of the face through the cheek in front of the ear. When Private Croal tried to jerk the bayonet free, the enemy soldiers’s helmet fell forward and, with the chinstrap, fouling the end of the rifle, swung beneath it. The German, far from dead and still holding a Schmeisser sub-machine gun, tried to grip the bayonet but somehow got one hand entangled inside his own helmet. Shouting ‘Wait!’, I tossed my tommy-gun to Corporal Todd, then, drawing my fighting knife, bent down and with one swift movement slit the Germans throat, his warm blood spurting into my face, up my sleeves and over my trousers. Cutting the helmet free, I struck the wooden stake with the flat of my boot, causing the bayonet to come away easily.’

A day or two later, as the Byrne’s Commando continued the advance inland, he was wounded:

‘Around my corner an enemy machine-gun was squatting in the centre of the road. It fired at once and Badge, taking the full brunt, collapsed on his face, mortally wounded. I got away lightly, being only shot in the knee, but the bullet bit deep into the bone so, unable to bear the pain, I flung myself out of the line of fire, landing on my backside alongside the Bren team. Meantime, while the enemy continued their murderous fire, knocking huge lumps out of the earth bank at the corner of the lane, the Bren team remained resolute behind their gun, ready to give the first Germans to come around the corner a bellyful they would never forget.

However, realising that they stood no chance if the enemy came charging around the corner, I bellowed above the din, ‘Run for it.’ Both men turned and looked at me with amazement. ‘Go! Get help! Leave us! Tell the colonel.’ Away they went, their heavy boots striking the road like the hammers of hell. The running stopped for a moment when I estimated they were opposite the farm gate, then kept on going. Our troop must have withdrawn inside the commando defensive position. Badge and I were on our own. Transferring the tommy-gun to my left hand, I reached forward – I was sitting up with my left, wounded knee bent – grasped Badge’s left wrist with my right hand and heaved. It was not possible to avoid hurting him but he did not murmur. When Badge realised what I was trying to do, he half turned and flopped over, with his head towards me. We were roughly in the centre of the lane, with Badge lying flat on his back and myself sitting with my feet roughly in line with his head. Keeping a firm grip of Badge’s wrist and with him holding onto mine, I dragged him slowly bit by bit at an angle towards the side of the lane until we were close into the bank, with myself sitting up on the inside and Badge lying flat on his back alongside with his feet pointing to the corner. His uniform was drenched in blood ... ’

The Push into North West-Europe

After six months in hospital, Byrne rejoined 6 Commando at Petworth, where the Brigade was reforming just in time to go with them to North-West Europe. He continues:

‘The enemy had broken through in the Ardennes and we were to help straighten the line. I took charge of my old sub-section but all that remained of those who had landed in Normandy were Corporal Todd and Lance-Corporal Allen, both now fully recovered from their wounds.

We went into action at once, taking Maasbracht in Holland after hard fighting. Soon afterwards, on promotion to full sergeant, I was transferred to Captain Clapton’s troop and for the rest of the war in Europe, except for a brief period, commanded a section. The sub-section leaders were Lance-Sergeant Bill Wraith and Lance- Sergeant Jeff Sullivan.

For the remainder of that very cold winter in Holland it was hard slogging, for the enemy stubbornly resisted every inch of the way. On 24 March our brigade, now called the 1st Commando Brigade, crossed the Rhine in stormboats and, after the most ferocious close-quarter fighting which continued throughout the night and for the greater part of the next day, captured Wesel. Among the names of those whose turn it was to die was that of Corporal Todd, the steadiest of them all.


On 4 April, we crossed the Dortmund-Ems Canal and fought our way into Osnabruck, resisted in every house and street by seasoned instructors and young army recruits from the German Military Training School in the town.

Pressing on, we crossed the River Weser to capture Leese on 8 April. Keeping up the momentum, we crossed the River Aller on 10 April, taking the entrenched positions of the fanatical German Marines at the point of the bayonet.

The last action of the commandos in Europe was on 29 April when, after nearly two weeks’ preparation, we crossed the River Elbe in armoured buffaloes and seized the high ground, then, having fought all night long our troop, with my section at the point, captured intact the vital bridge over the Elbe-Trave Canal.

The war was over, we returned to Hove, Sussex, where we occupied civilian billets until the end of the war with Japan.’

Post-war Policeman

Having then served with the 4th Norfolks in Greece and the 2nd Royal Fusiliers in Egypt, Byrne was demobbed in February 1947, when he joined the Kenya Police. He continues:

‘I served with them until 1948, when, at the beginning of the emergency in Malaya, I, with many others, answered the call for volunteers. Within forty-eight hours we were flown to Malaya and I was posted to Kulai Police District in Johore. Before the first week was over, I had struck my first blow.

The rubber-tappers of Swee Lam Estate, great stretches of which had deteriorated into secondary jungle, were being terrorized by the enemy. Ordered to investigate, I was patrolling the neglected area of the estate when I spotted two terrorists approaching armed with rifles. Ghosting into the undergrowth, I waited until I could not miss before opening fire, killing one and severely wounding the other.

The enemy proved determined and ruthless, giving as good as he got, and on average killed twelve per cent of British police officers every year. Our task was to maintain security and to liaise with the army which was assisting the civil power. As the years passed and the war continued, the strain became almost unbearable for it was not possible to relax, since one moment of carelessness could result in death. The only way to survive was to keep fit and be able to shoot, when necessary, with deadly accuracy.

An example of this occurred when I was thirty-two, just before the inevitable end of my story. Coming face to face with a terrorist, who held his rifle in one hand with the barrel pointed downwards, whereas my carbine was held securely with both hands, the barrel facing forward, I was able to kill him with one shot before he could react.

Soon afterwards, in 1953, my career was brought to a violent and painful end by a terrorist who fired his heavy-calibre revolver into my stomach at point-blank range. The terrorist was wounded and captured by Superintendent Peter Charnley, who brought him to trial.’

The lot is sold with Byrne’s published wartime memoir
The General Salutes a Soldier, and comprehensive research, including copied M.I.9 report, this latter extending to 12pp. and detailing the story of his captivity and eventual escape: both this and his wartime memoir have been used for the above biographical notes, though on occasion content differs.