MEMORIES OF THE ‘PHANTOM MAJOR’
STIRLING AND THE SAS GO IT ALONE IN THE NORTH AFRICAN DESERT
On the night of 26 July 1942 an incongruous column of heavily armed jeeps bumped across the Libyan desert. There were 18 vehicles in all, commanded by Major David Stirling, the 26-year-old Scot who the previous July had convinced Middle East Command in Cairo to allow him to raise a 66-strong unit called L Detachment of the Special Air Service Brigade.
Initially formed as a parachute unit, it had evolved into a guerrilla force that was transported to targets in the back of trucks driven by the Long Range Desert Group (LRDG). On this evening, however, the men were going it alone, directed to the isolated desert airfield of Sidi Haneish by Mike Sadler, a former LRDG navigator.
It was the first time the SAS was operating independently of the LRDG, and Stirling was desperate to prove that they could thrive as a selfsufficient force.
There were other reasons, too, for the decision to no longer hold the hand of the LRDG. In the first six months of 1942 the SAS had destroyed 143 enemy aircraft, and Axis forces had consequently strengthened their airfield’s defences. No longer could the SAS simply stroll onto landing strips, place bombs on wings and then melt into the night to be collected by the LRDG at a pre-arranged RV.
“Stirling had a very good social manner and also a compelling personality,” said Sadler, at 97 the only member of L Detachment still alive. “He managed to make one feel you were the only person who could possibly do it, that kind of effect, but I also slightly felt he was thinking of something else at the same time.”
Sadler recalled the stress he felt as navigator as he guided the force the 89 kilometres (55 miles) north to Sidi Haneish. “There was always the worry you wouldn’t pull it off,” he said. “There was somehow a lot of pressure on that one because it was a big party and it had a lot of key folk on it.”
Sadler’s navigation was faultless, and the SAS arrived at the perimeter of Sidi Haneish in the early hours of 27 July. The men formed up as they had rehearsed in the previous days, Stirling’s jeep the point of an arrow with one vehicle either side and level with his rear wheels. The remaining 14 jeeps followed in two columns, spaced 4.5 metres (five yards) apart, each one carrying four Vickers machine guns.
The jeeps trundled onto the airstrip at barely three kilometres per hour (two miles per hour), their speed in inverse proportion to the rate of fire from the Vickers – each gun pumping out 1,200 rounds a minute. The Italian defenders were overwhelmed by the shock and awe that suddenly emerged from the darkness. They ran screaming for cover as behind them Messerschmitts, Junkers, Stukas and Heinkels burst into flames.
The Italians gathered their senses enough to return fire as the raiders wheeled and made for the desert. Three jeeps were put out of action, one man was killed, but the SAS left behind a scene of pandemonium – 18 aircraft destroyed, 12 damaged and dozens of dead men.
“The whole thing was very impressive and I had a ringside view of the tracer fire and the aircraft going up,” said Sadler. “But going on an operation, it wasn’t the raid itself you worried about, it was how the hell were we going to get away afterwards because the Germans were like bees when chasing us”.
The SAS split into small groups for the return journey in the hope it would make them less of a target
for enemy aircraft. One patrol was attacked and a man was killed, but the rest made it safely back to base. No wonder the Germans dubbed Stirling ‘the
Phantom Major’.
“THE ITALIAN DEFENDERS WERE OVERWHELMED BY THE SHOCK AND AWE THAT SUDDENLY EMERGED FROM THE DARKNESS. THEY RAN SCREAMING FOR COVER AS BEHIND THEM MESSERSCHMITTS, JUNKERS, STUKAS AND HEINKELS BURST INTO FLAMES”