Guerrillas in the Jungle. Shaun Clarke

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      The troopers coped with the forthcoming nightmare of Johore by fantasizing about the great time they would have when they were given the mandatory weekend off and could spend it on the island of Penang. This fantasy was fuelled by the stories of Alf Laughton, who, having been in Malaya before, when serving with the King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, still recalled vividly his wild evenings in George Town, with its trishaws, taxis, steaming food stalls, colourful markets and bazaars, sleazy bars, grand hotels and, of course, incredibly beautiful Eurasian women in sexy cheongsams.

      Alf Laughton had the rest of them salivating.

      The first seven days, which seemed like seven years, ended on a Friday and most of them, though exhausted beyond what they could have imagined, were looking forward to their great weekend in Penang, after their briefing by Major Pryce-Jones, which took place, helpfully, at six in the evening, when the sun was going down and the humid air was cooling.

      ‘First, a bit of background,’ Pryce-Jones began. He was standing on a raised section of the floor at one end of the room, in front of a large map of Malaya. Captain Callaghan was seated in a chair to the side of the raised area. In the week he had been back, he had already put on weight and was looking more his normal, healthy self. ‘The Communist Party has existed here in a small way since the 1930s,’ Pryce-Jones continued, ‘when this was a prosperous place. Unfortunately, we then made the mistake of arming the Communist guerrillas during the war, to enable them to fight the Japanese. It never entered our heads that after the war those same weapons would be turned against us. In the event, they were. Once the guerrilla supremo, Chin Peng, had been awarded an OBE in the Victory Honours, he formed his 1,200 wartime guerrillas into ten regiments and used his 4,000 captured British and Japanese weapons to mount a campaign of terror against the Malays. They publicly executed rubber plantation workers, lectured the horrified onlookers on the so-called war against Imperialism, then melted back into the jungle.’

      After pausing to let his words sink in, Pryce-Jones tapped the blackboard beside the map, where someone had scrawled in white chalk: ‘Kill one, frighten a thousand: Sun-Zu.’

      ‘These are the words of the old Chinese warrior Sun-Zu, and Chin Peng’s guerrillas live by them. For this reason, once they had struck terror into the hearts of the Malays, they turned on the Europeans, mostly British plantation managers. Two were bound to chairs and ritually murdered. After that, the war escalated dramatically and British forces were brought in.’

      Pryce-Jones put the pointer down and turned away from the blackboard. ‘By early 1950, the Communist Terrorists had killed over 800 civilians, over 300 police officers and approximately 150 soldiers. We can take comfort from the fact that over 1,000 CT have been killed, over 600 have been captured, and nearly 400 have surrendered so far. Nevertheless, there’s no sign of an end to the war, which is why you men are here.’

      ‘Lucky us!’ Dennis the Menace exclaimed, copping a couple of laughs.

      ‘The CT attacks,’ Pryce-Jones continued when the laughter had died away, ‘are mostly against kampongs, isolated police stations, telecommunications, railways, buses, rubber estates, tin mines, and what they term the “running dogs of the British” – namely, us, the Security Forces. British infantry, however, with the help of Gurkha and police patrols, have managed to cut off food supplies going to the CT in the jungle. They’ve also booby-trapped supplies of rice, fish and other foods found prepared for collection by the CT. With the removal of over 400 Chinese squatters’ villages from the edge of the jungle to wire-fenced enclosures defended by us, the CT have been deprived of yet another source of food, supplies and manpower. For this reason, they’ve moved deeper into the jungle, known to them as the ulu, where they’re attempting to grow their own maize, rice and vegetables. In order to do this, they have to make cleared spaces in the ulu – and those spaces can be seen from the air. Unfortunately, it takes foot patrols days, sometimes weeks, to reach them. Which is where you come in.’

      ‘Here it comes!’ Boney Maronie chimed.

      ‘The hard sell,’ Dennis the Menace added.

      ‘All right, you men, be quiet,’ Sergeant Lorrimer told them. ‘We don’t have all night for this.’

      Looking forward to the first evening of their free weekend, which most would spend in Penang, the men could only agree with Sergeant Lorrimer, and settled down quickly.

      ‘To win the cooperation of the local tribesmen,’ Pryce-Jones continued, ‘we established a number of protected kampongs. Attracted by free food and medical treatment, as well as by the idea of protection from the atrocities of the CT, the tribesmen gradually moved into the kampongs and set up their bashas next to those of our troops. Medical supplies were dropped by the RAF and treatment given by doctors and Royal Army Medical Corps NCOs attached to the SAS. Once an individual settlement was established with a full quota of tribesmen, it became permanent and was placed under the control of the police or Malayan security forces. We’d then move on to build another elsewhere until we had a whole chain of such “forts” down the centre of the country, effectively controlling the area, keeping the terrorists out.’

      ‘The hearts-and-minds campaign,’ young Dead-eye said, having already done his homework.

      ‘Correct. The campaign was successful in winning the trust of the tribesmen. They responded by becoming our eyes and ears in the ulu, passing on information on the whereabouts and movements of the CT.’

      ‘So what’s our place in all this?’ Boney Maronie asked.

      ‘You’ll be called upon to be part of patrols based for long periods in the jungle,’ Pryce-Jones replied. ‘There you’ll make contact with the aboriginals, the Sakai, who’re being coerced by the terrorists into providing them with food. Once contact is made, you’ll attempt to win their trust by supplying them with penicillin and other medicines, by defending their kampongs from the CT and in any other way you can.’

      ‘Bloody nursemaids again!’ Dennis the Menace groaned.

      ‘Is staying for long periods in the jungle feasible for anyone other than the aboriginals?’ Dead-eye asked quietly.

      ‘Yes,’ Captain Callaghan said. ‘It’s a daunting task, but it can be done. Indeed, at a time when seven days was considered the absolute limit for white men, one of our Scout patrols spent 103 days in there. The CC’ – Callaghan nodded in the direction of Major Pryce-Jones – ‘has spent six months alone in the ulu and, as you know, I’ve just returned from a three-month hike through it. So it can be done.’

      ‘If the Ruperts can do it,’ Alf Laughton said, using the SAS nickname for officers, ‘then I reckon we can too.’

      ‘As Trooper Dudbridge has expressed his disdain for the hearts-and-minds side of the operation,’ Pryce-Jones cut in, ‘I should inform you that your main task will be to assist the Malay Police Field Force at kampongs and in jungle-edge patrols. You’ll also send out small patrols from your jungle base to ambush the CT on the tracks they use to get to and from their hide-outs.’

      ‘That sounds more like it,’ Pete Welsh said, grinning as his wild blue eyes flashed from left to right and back again. ‘Doing what we’ve been trained to do.’

      ‘You’ve also been trained in hearts-and-minds tactics,’ Sergeant Lorrimer reminded him, ‘so don’t ever forget it.’

      ‘Sorry, СКАЧАТЬ