The History of No 2. Comando

The Commanders

This History of No. 2 Commando was compiled at the request of the Administrator of The Commando Veterans Association, who wanted a record of the unit’s activities and first-hand recollections of its members as seen through the eyes of a No. 2 Commando veteran. There was a certain urgency about the request because this veteran, turned author, is old and just about one step away from the knacker’s yard. There is much to tell about the No. 2 Family and its Father, Charlie Newman.

As soon as the name Colonel Newman is invoked, the reaction is always ST. NAZAIRE! But, there was more to Charlie than his epic leadership as Military Force Commander at that battle of March 28th, 1942. If one wants to know about the exact dates of when Charlie left his role in No. 3 Independent Company, or when he arrived or left Paignton, Weymouth, Dumfries, Lockerbie or Ayr, and perhaps details of his pre-war Territorial Army service, ample information on these events can be obtained from the many books written by ‘historians’ who somehow catalogued such data without ever knowing Charlie.

This author likes to reminisce about the Colonel’s tremendous work in recruiting, training and forging a fighting unit that he could lead into battle anytime and at anyplace. Charlie managed to keep his troops at a razor-sharp level of efficiency despite the winter of discontent and impatience of 1940 and the year of frustration that followed it in 1941. Under a lesser leader morale would have surely gone to pot, but Charlie, by clever use of novel training programmes which he dreamed up, managed by sheer force of personality to actually improve the ‘readiness’ condition of the Commando, day by day.

It sticks in my mind that during the days that followed the raid on St. Nazaire, my friends and myself never did any talking about that event. When new replacements arrived to rebuild the Commando and wanted to know about what happened there, they never answered by anything other than non-committal remarks. However, when this or that was debated, Charlie’s views as we had known them were always offered as solutions to differences of opinions. Colonel Jack Churchill arrived to fill Charlie’s spot as C.O. The Commando welcomed ‘Mad Jack’ as its new leader and over the space of the next two and a half years he became a magnificent Commander. But in those days it seemed only a temporary arrangement. Maybe we thought that Charlie would somehow show up and take over again.

There are a couple of memories that this author has of Charlie that cannot be found in any book. A boxing tournament had been arranged between No. 2 Commando and a local artillery unit stationed near Ayr. Before the first bout commenced, the artillery C.O. entered the hall and took his ringside seat amid some mutterings from his own men to the effect of ‘officers always getting the best seats’. Then Charlie made his entrance and difference could be compared to codfish versus caviar. The entire Commando rose up and belted out this verse:

Clap hands! - Here comes Charlie!
Clap hands! - GOOD OLD CHARLIE!
Clap hands! - Here’s OUR CHARLIE now!!

The Colonel grinned, and turned with his hands clasped above his head in the prize-fighter manner to acknowledge what he knew was a genuine expression of admiration from his boys. The artillery lads looked on in disbelief. They just could not understand how we respected and admired our Charlie.

The most important memory in my military life is the saga of events concerning my attempts to volunteer for Commando service with Col. Newman. It began with myself, then 17, feeling somewhat in a useless situation within the confines of Britannia Barracks, Norwich. A Notice had been posted on the board which declared that: ‘All ranks may apply at the company office to be interviewed at a date to be arranged for the purpose of volunteering for Commando service’. This was an instruction from the all-highest, the Army Council, and I foolishly thought that no one could circumvent that and they would have to let me volunteer … Silly me! I should have known that the Army Council instruction would be dismissed as rubbish by our exalted Company Sergeant Major Cooper. This author, then so naïve, rushed to the company office eager to have his name put on the Commando volunteer list. C.S.M. Cooper gave me his usual friendly glower and greeted me with a jocular ‘What do you bloody want?’ My response was that I wished to volunteer for the Commandos. I think I added ‘Sir’ at the end of my request just to mollify the old rotter. C.S.M. Cooper carefully considered my request for all of two seconds then gave me his decision with his famous roar and snarl combination, ‘OUT!’. Then he asked me a very pertinent question, ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’. Without waiting for a response from me to this friendly inquiry he stabbed at the door direction with a finger and yelled ‘OUT!’ once more. He was in fine voice that day and as I trudged down the company office steps I thought that the word impasse really was a French description of our Sgt. Major. There was no way, it seemed, to get around such an immovable object. But my utter dejection was short-lived. Lady Luck arrived and intervened on my behalf. That delightful lady arranged for C.S.M. Cooper to be the victim of a tragic motorcycle accident the very next night and Sgt. Major Cooper was as dead as a mackerel. The way was clear and Cpl. Friston, the company clerk, added my name to the list of volunteers with no argument.

Charlie arrived at Britannia Barracks shortly after all this happened and it should be recorded as to how he was helped in his recruiting endeavours. Charlie had to find a room for himself in town and was not offered the hospitality of the officers’ mess. He had to conduct his interviews within the luxurious confines of the men’s canteen. This author recalls that Charlie evaluated him from across the billiard table. I think he had to rummage for my papers between two itinerant red-balls. But I arrived one day thereafter to take my place in his command and it was all so very worthwhile.

One day in early 1942 we were practicing manhandling some rather heavy equipment up the cliffs at the Heads-of-Ayr. Charlie called out to me, ‘Move that rope grapple to the left, SON!” That form of family address personified Charlie’s relationship with all his boys.

Our Charlie passed away April 26th, 1972. He was 68.

It has been over sixty-three years since this author served under the command of Jack, but to this day it is impossible to think of the man without prefacing my reverie with some kind of exclamation such as: Whew! or My God! and I have to stop thinking about this larger-than-life character or else I wouldn’t get anything done during the day or sometimes, night. Jack will always be with me because he will be part of my life; something that will last and never fade.

Unlike so many of the men he commanded, Jack came from a pretty well-heeled Oxfordshire family. Following his formal education at the Dragon School, Oxford and King William’s College, Isle of Man, then RMC Sandhurst, he obtained a regular army commission in the Manchester Regiment in 1926. His career in the peacetime army came to a screeching halt ten years later when Jack and his C.O. agreed to disagree and Jack resigned his commission.

Jack was recalled to the army at the outbreak of war, served with distinction at Dunkirk and got himself an M.C. After which, he was one of the very first volunteers for the newly-formed Commandos. Jack found himself assigned as the second-in-command of No. 3 Commando. The author wonders about that time. The thought of having three diverse personalities and future Commando legends – John Durnford Slater, Peter Young and Jack Churchill – all under the same roof is frightening! However, it all worked out well – J.D.S. was kicked upstairs, promoted to Brigadier, Peter Young eventually got control of No. 3 Commando, and Jack Churchill was shifted over to No. 2 Commando replacing Lt. Col. Charlie Newman, who had been lost at St. Nazaire.

The ‘coming’ of Jack to No. 2 Commando in April 1942 and his subsequent campaign exploits are related elsewhere. In this narrative, the author confines himself to relating his memories of Jack and endeavors to try to convey some truths that need to be recorded and questions that need to be asked now, or they will never see daylight.

This author finds himself somewhat dismayed by various reports that have surfaced from time-to-time which infer that Jack Churchill was a sort of ‘publicity seeker’. For those who have that opinion, I ask them to consider this:

Where is there a book written by Jack Churchill concerning No. 2 Commando depicting himself in a starring role?

Jack has never written anything about his life and times, or caused them to be recounted by some ghost-writer. Thankfully no officer who served in No. 2 Commando has ever caused publication of a book to join the many which were authorized by Jack’s brother-colonels in other Commando units and several accounts written by lieutenants on upwards. The author makes this point, not in criticism of these many published scribes, but to illustrate that Jack certainly had a personal story of unexcelled heroism to tell, but was too darn modest to cash in on it.

There is that matter of a decoration. At Salerno Jack and his runner had operated far out ahead of the Commando and entered the enemy-held village of Pigoletti, whereupon Jack descended on each German sentry post or weapons pit, made its occupants prisoner and delivered them group by group to be guarded by the waiting runner. When the count was made it amounted to 42 prisoners Jack had taken. He even made the German mortar crews carry out their own mortars. The prisoners with all their weapons were then handed over to the leading Commando troop when it finally caught up with Jack. For this audacious feat of arms Col. Jack was recommended for the Victoria Cross, which was in due course watered down to a D.S.O. WHY? The award of the V.C. had certainly been made as a result of actions concerning far-lesser valour.

The qualities of leadership displayed by Jack’s fellow Commando colonels, Lt. Cols. Durnford Slater, Peter Young, Derek Mills-Roberts, Lord Lovat and Ronnie Tod, were all recognized by their promotion to the rank of Brigadier. They were all grand leaders who deserved such recognition. BUT Jack was not promoted. In fact, we have to sadly note that in 1948 he had been demoted to the rank of major engaged in the thankless task of keeping Arabs and Jews from each others throats in the Palestine mandate. It is thought that Jack had fully deserved the promotion which was awarded to his peers, but somehow denied to him. WHY? again.

It is said by many fanciful writers that Jack went into action in No. 2 Commando ‘resplendent with bow and arrows’. Where? The author participated in everyone of the Colonel’s operations in No. 2 and only saw our Jack adorned with claymore, bagpipes, an American M-1 carbine, sometimes a 45 automatic, haversack, helmet with large S.S. badge, and map case. Wasn’t that enough?

Jack much admired the discipline and enthusiasm of the average German soldier. He once stated ‘that was what made them such wonderful soldiers’. He compared such qualities rather favourably with those who inhabited our ‘mass-produced army’. He always advocated more realistic training for the ordinary British soldier although he fully realized that it would be impossible to put the whole army through Achnacarry.

Jack, the man, was hard, if not impossible, to get to know. He lacked a certain rapport with his brother-officers and certainly never got close to the rank and file boys in the same way as Charlie Newman. But, then again, Charlie Newman’s fatherly attitude was a tough act to follow and Jack Churchill’s pale, steely-blue eyes were fixed on the prosecution of the war and nothing else.

Our ‘Mad Jack’ once gave himself to prose, writing that:

"No Prince or Lord has tomb so proud
As he whose flag becomes his shroud"

Lt. Col. Jack Churchill, D.S.O., M.C., a.k.a. ‘Mad Jack’ passed on, March 8, 1996. He was 89.

Colonel Fynn was known to all as ‘Ted’, why it is not known, he arrived with that designation and everyone used that name thereafter. He was the third Commanding Officer to be at the helm of No. 2 Commando, inheriting the job right after we had lost ‘Mad Jack’ on June 6th, 1944.

A difficult man to describe - perhaps he was not as fatherly as Charlie Newman, more like an uncle I suppose, and not as autocratic as Jack Churchill. His style was more ‘laid back’ and easier in the manner of many South Africans, but when you looked at Ted you knew that he had ‘seen’ life. Although this author is second-to-none in his admiration of ‘Mad Jack’ and considered him to be the ‘bravest of the brave’, after two and a half years of serving under his command Ted was regarded with an expression of some relief. This quiet man who had taken over, we all knew, was going to be o.k. It was as though someone had said “It’s time to lighten-up a little, boys!”.

In October, 1942, at Lerwick in the Shetlands, Ted became the titular head of ‘Fynn Force’, a group of Commandos formed with the purpose of making life uncomfortable for the Germans in Norway. Ted led attacks on objectives in Southern Norway. The first assault was on Stord Island where Ted blew up a pyrites mine at Lillebo. A highly successful raid, Ted managed to get this job done with the loss of only one Commando K.I.A. Other operations followed. Ted said nothing of this background when he joined No. 2 and went on to lead the Commando in action at Himare, Albania July ’44 and Sarande, Albania October ’44. Shortly after these operations, the author was seconded to S.O.E. and that was the last he saw of Ted.

Ted won the M.C. in 1942 and was also awarded the Bronze Star (U.S.A.) for his leadership of No. 2 Commando at Lake Comacchio 1945.

The author would like to relate an episode from Ted’s tenure with No. 2. Ted had gotten himself married in Bari, Italy, with a good attendance at the ceremony by officers and others. The morning after the wedding night he was asked by someone, “How did the night go?” Ted then said, “Well, do you remember what Charlie Newman said when he was awarded the Victoria Cross?” The enquirer replied, “What did Charlie say?” Ted then smiled and uttered the historic words:

"I GOT IT FOR THE WHOLE COMMANDO."

The Men

There is a worn-out cliché which goes as: "They came from all walks of life". It is descriptive and fits, so we will use it one more time because it certainly describes the pre-service backgrounds of the people who took their places in the ranks of No. 2 Commando. They were an interesting assortment and what follows is some insight as to how their lives unfolded and sometimes terminated.

L/Sgt. Joseph Jackson:

Joe was a former Isle of Man taxi-driver who was an old hand from the Independent Company days and was there from the beginning of the Commando. Joe won the D.C.M. and almost made it to the end of the war, K.I.A. 27 February, 1945, Age 39, at Lake Comacchio, Italy.

Pte. Dennis Wright:

Dennis was a student from Birmingham, although judging by his age probably schoolboy would have been more accurate. This lad fought in the battle of Dragone Hill in the Salerno landing and was K.I.A. 13 September, 1943. Dennis was 18.

L/Sgt. Frederick Peachey:

Fred came from Warrington, Lancs, and was an early member of No. 2. He was at Vaagso and later was seriously wounded at St. Nazaire. He fought in Sicily followed by the Salerno landing where he was wounded again and received an M.M. for his courage. Fred continued his campaign in Yugoslavia and Albania operations and was wounded a third time in the Argenta Gap, Italy, battle where he won a bar to his M.M. After the war, Fred resumed life as a Lorry Driver and passed on at the age of 63. A quiet man.

L/Cpl. John Phelan:

Johnny was educated at an expensive finishing school in Belgium. He came from a family that operated a flourishing restaurant business in London. Johnny was in the campaigns in Sicily, Italy, Yugoslavia and Albania. He was commissioned from the ranks as a Lieutenant in 1945. The thing that the author remembers most about Johnny is that he got on our nerves relating about yummy hot roast beef sandwiches at his family restaurant while we were in the process of consuming our usual meal of corned-beef and hard-tack biscuits.

Capt. The Duke Of Wellington:

The 6th Duke of Wellington could have had a very comfortable war had he chosen to be the functional head of his own regiment, The Duke of Wellington’s (West Riding) Regt. Instead, the Duke sealed his own fate when he arrived at 2 Wellington Square, the 2 Commando H.Q. in Ayr, May 1942. This rather chubby, unpretentious and likeable man turned out to be a great Commando Troop Leader who knew that leading from the very front of his troop was the only place to be. The Duke was K.I.A. 16 September, 1943 at Pigoletti in the Salerno beachhead. He was 31. It must have been in our minds when some Sgt. remarked that our Duke had paid a higher price than his illustrious ancestor. The ‘Iron Duke’ rests in the crypt of St. Paul’s Cathedral. Our Duke is buried alongside many other men of No. 2 Commando in Salerno War Cemetery.

Sgt. Jack Moores:

Jack enlisted in the regular army in 1929. He was a fugitive from hard economic times and very much admired the idea of eating on a regular basis and the luxury of having a roof over his head. He arrived in Ayr from Achnacarry in May 1942 and enquired if this author was also from the Royal Norfolk Regt. He then stated that the author’s name was the same as his first R.S.M. in 1929 who had a five-year old son. So, the author stuck out his hand and said “It’s been a long time, Jack!” We became firm friends for the remainder of Jack’s life. The campaigns that followed our stay in Ayr proved that Jack was a fine leader of men who was much-admired for his steadiness in any situation. Our friendship was broken when Jack was severely wounded and died after reaching his objective – a fortified ridge at Himare, Albania. The date was 29 July, 1944. His age was recorded as 37 (going on 42). We all missed this fine old soldier.

L/Cpl. W. Cant:

Police Constable Cant arrived from Achnacarry in May, 1942 as part of the wonderful Police Intake who had no previous military training prior to attending Col. Charlie Vaughan’s school. Our ‘cops’ settled in very fast and not one of them had any problem becoming valued Commando soldiers. Everyone addressed Bill Cant as ‘P.C.’ thereafter. The boys from the London Police used to tease ‘P.C.’ about being from a rural Essex constabulary, with references to the famous case of two runaway chickens when they had to ask ‘The Yard’ for help. ‘P.C.’ fought well and became an obvious leader in seven ‘No. 2’ operations resulting in him receiving his Lieutenants ‘pips’ in 1944. ‘P.C.’ survived the war and presumably went back to the still-unsolved chicken case in Essex.

Lieut. Thomas Peyton:

Tommy Peyton had been with No. 2 Commando for only a few short months when he embarked for the voyage to the Loire River and the port of St. Nazaire. Somewhere in the holocaust that followed on the night of 28 March, 1942, Tommy earned the distinction of being the youngest officer of No. 2 Commando to fall in battle. He was 20 years old.

Pte. Alfred Neal:

Alfred Neal was a medical orderly with the assault troops of No. 2 Commando, who landed at St. Nazaire on the night of 28 March, 1942. Alfred’s attempts to help wounded Commandos from very exposed positions on the docks resulted in his receiving fatal wounds. Alfred was from Norwich – this author’s hometown. Pte. Neal was 24.

Capt. Joseph Houghton:

Joe was a product of Marlborough College and was later employed in civil life as an engineer for a mining company in Norway. He arrived at No. 2 Commando in the autumn of 1941 and what followed for Joe can best be described as the meanest year in the life of any commando. Event No. 1 - Vaagso Dec. ’41. Event No. 2 - St. Nazaire March ’42. Event No. 3 - Recovery from serious wounds received at St. Nazaire, Joe almost did not make it! Event No. 4 – Sept. ’42, landed in Norway and destroyed the power plant at Glomfjord. Joe was wounded as he tried to escape to Sweden, captured and later transferred to S.S. custody. Event No. 5 - Transfer to R.S.H.A. dungeon in Berlin and interrogation for nine days by the notorious Heinrich Mueller. Event No. 6 - Oct. 22, ’42, Joe and six other members of No. 2 Commando denied prisoner-of-war status, were taken to the concentration camp at Sachsenhausen. Oct. 23, ’42 Joe and the other boys were executed by a shot in the back of the neck. Their bodies were burnt in the camp crematorium. Joe had previously been awarded an M.C. He was 31.

L/Sgt. Charles Blattner:

Charlie Blattner came from Edinburgh and was unmarried. That was all we knew about him. He was among the most modest of men and would always help anyone, regardless of the consequences to himself. Charlie missed St. Nazaire because he had been loaned to Achnacarry to help out before Col. Vaughan’s grand opening of the Commando Depot. The author remembers a conversation with Charlie the evening before No. 2 was attacked on Sept. 13th at Dragone Hill, Salerno. Our appreciation of the situation was that a mixed force of panzer-grenadiers and paratroopers was getting ready to hit us in the morning, perhaps numbering nearly 2,000. We had heard the unmistakable rumble and roar of tank engines or self-propelled guns. I remarked to Charlie that it looked as though we would be in for a rough time in the coming hours. Charlie responded with a smile, “But think of those ‘puir’ German lads! How would you like to attack 160 dug-in Commandos?” Attack they did and when the battle was over we found Charlie at 45 years, the oldest member of No. 2 Commando, K.I.A. in the war.

P.S. The author has a message for Charlie which is - I wish you had an ‘email address’ because I want you to know that whenever I hear the tune of glory ‘Scotland the Brave’, I think of you.

Capt. Gareth Banting:

The Rev. Banting took holy orders after graduation from Cambridge. He became the much-liked Chaplain of No. 2 Commando and served in all their campaigns of 1943-1944. After the battle at Sarande, Albania, the Chaplain was attending to the burial of Commandos and German soldiers when he detonated an anti-personnel mine in a freak accident. Rev. Banting died while being carried to an aid post, 10 October, 1944, aged 32.

Pte. Bernard Edwards:

When the author was a kid in school he was told that the City of Nottingham was famous as being the home of ‘Players’ cigarettes and Raleigh Industries. I know now that it is also famous as being the home of one of the group of unsung heroes – the Privates of No. 2 Commando. Bernie typifies the men who went from end to end in all the No. 2 Commando campaigns, carrying the heaviest loads of any ranking which were heavy on ammunition and other equipment, but very light on food and other creature comforts for himself. This soldier was wounded in Sicily and recovered to fight again in Italy, Yugoslavia, Albania and Corfu. He received no promotions or decorations. Bernie survived the war to share the rest of his life with his devoted wife, Pat, and children Dave and Di. He made the pilgrim’s way to the Memorial at Spean Bridge with Pat and Di in 1996. After Bernie passed on in 2002, Di remembered her father in every possible way, including attending the 2005 Stand-Down Ceremony of the old Commando Association at Portsmouth. Bernard Edwards and his fellow Privates were the indispensible element of the Commando.

The men of No. 2 Commando were indeed a quiet group of men who worked very well together. They said very little concerning their pre-war backgrounds. The Sergeant who was in civil life a floor-walker in a department store was always on very good terms with the bookie (sorry, I mean turf-accountant) and the scion of a wealthy family with huge land holdings and business companies was quite at home commanding his group of men which included men from such diverse backgrounds as a gardener and part-time grave digger, a Lloyds Bank management trainee, a former office-boy, a rather elderly building contractor, professional soldiers, a solicitor, labourers, an elementary school-teacher, a couple of lorry drivers and a former communist party worker. The list of pre-war vocations could go on ad infinitum.

Some time statistics will tell a story or be informative, the author has thought of a few:

The average age of the soldiers of No. 2 Commando was 23. The youngest member of the unit to fall in battle was aged 18 and, at the other end of the scale, the eldest man to be K.I.A. was aged 45.

The volunteer soldiers of the Commando came from 54 different Regiments of the Line and from all the Corps of the army with the exception of the Corps of Military Police. Somehow, strangely enough, the lack of C.M.P. representation was not a cause of great concern or sorrow to the troops.

The South Lancashire Regiment (The Prince of Wales Own) supplied the largest contingent of the volunteers, with the Royal Artillery coming in second place.

The origins of the 2 Commando boys lay in many far-flung lands. As the author’s memory goes they were from England, Wales, Scotland, Canada, Southern Rhodesia, Palestine, Switzerland and the Republic of Ireland plus a couple of lads who were refugees and thus, stateless.

Only one soldier of the Commando had seen service in World War I. That was Major Bill Copeland who was awarded a D.S.O. for his role at St. Nazaire.

Only one officer had been with the B.E.F. at Dunkirk. That was Mad Jack Churchill himself. The author muses that if the B.E.F. had all consisted of men of the calibre of Mad Jack, history would now be describing Dunkirk as an attack instead of an evacuation.

About 30 percent of No. 2 were graduates of Achnacarry. This percentage dwindled as No. 2 was forced to replace its losses in 1943, 1944 and 1945 with volunteers recruited from Gibraltar and also the 5th and 8th Army in Italy. Alumni of Col. Charlie Vaughan’s finishing school were inclined to be a trifle ‘snobby’ about their training background. As the news of the ardours of Achnacarry became public domain, the Achnacarry boys were possibly even more insufferable.

What always united the men was their supreme, sincere regard for the family of No. 2 and their collective desire to stay put in its ranks. According to what information this author can assemble, about 72 men (all ranks) were ‘Returned to Unit’ for one reason or another. Although any man was free to do so, only a handful of the men decided to leave the Commando of their own volition. They were never allowed to return.

These have been an odd collection of thoughts of this, now 83 years gone, author who can only now say that it was good to be one of THE MEN.