Royal Marine awarded the DSC during Commando operations in the Adriatic regarded by some as the ‘father’ of the Special Boat Service
In the summer of 1944 “Pug” Davis was conducting landing operations in support of No 2 Commando Brigade off the Dalmatian coast, where raids were being carried out to support local partisans. One, mounted from the island of Vis against the island of Brac, was intended to ease the pressure on Tito.
Brac was mountainous and heavily defended by the Germans who considered it pivotal to the defence of the Yugoslav mainland. In addition to a large partisan element, the raid utilised all of 43 Commando Royal Marines, who were later supported by elements of 40 Commando.
After four days of heavy fighting, in which their casualties included the CO of 40 Commando, the brigade had to withdraw over the beach to landing craft. Elements of No 2 Army Commando were left on the island to search for survivors and were supported by a further three troops later put ashore by Davis’s three landing craft including two 75mm guns of the Raiding Support Regiment.
However, on the morning of June 6 a 27-man patrol was ambushed with only 12 men making it back to the beach. Pug seized the initiative, organised the first five men to reach the beach into a search party and armed them with his detachment’s rifles. He retained one landing craft at the beach at Brac in the charge of the engineer officer, and dispatched the other two to Vis with the two guns.
Davis then set off to the village where the ambush had occurred to rescue the wounded. After a two-hour climb he found a wounded officer whom the enemy had left for dead, and evacuated him safely back to the beach. He then sailed back to Vis. For his show of “initiative and courage far beyond the call of duty” he was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.
Peter George Davis was born in London in 1923 and educated at Highgate School. There he joined the cadet force and was inspired by a master who was a retired Royal Marine to choose his career.
Joining the Marines in February 1942 he was commissioned in October 1943 and on completion of his training was dispatched to work with landing craft, eventually finding himself at the “sharp end” of Commando operations in the Adriatic.
After the war Davis developed an interest in special duties. He joined the Royal Marine Boom Patrol Detachment (RMPD) originally formed by Lieutenant-Colonel “Blondie” Hasler, of Cockleshell Heroes fame. He was subsequently to command the RMPD which moved first to Appledore in North Devon, before in 1947 setting up a more permanent base at the Amphibious School RM at Eastney. In 1948 the unit was renamed the Small Raids Wing (SRW).
In February 1950, in a climate of heightened tension between Nato and the Soviet Union, SRW dispatched Davis with a 12-man team, the Royal Marine Demolitions Unit, to HMS Royal Prince in a suburb of Krefeld on the Rhine.
His task, should the need arise, was to deny the Russians any means of crossing the Rhine and to operate in a “stay behind” role. At his suggestion the team was renamed 2 Special Boat Section (SBS).
In Germany Davis was an accomplished amateur boxer, representing both the Royal Marines and Royal Navy, at one point captaining both teams.
In late 1951 Davis returned from Germany to a renamed Special Boat Wing at Eastney. The following year he was consulted by the designated commander of 3 Commando Brigade for his advice on the equipment and manning that was required for a brigade SBS. Davis soon found himself in Malta, tasked by the brigadier to form a new section, which duly became 6 SBS.
On completion of this work he joined 42 Commando for a tour as a company commander. In late 1954 he returned to SB Wing. After a further two years of SBS duties, Davis was appointed as the Senior Royal Marines Officer on board HMS Eagle in 1957, an appointment he held until 1959.
He again returned to Poole to an SBS unit that was continuing to grow. SB Wing had now expanded to the size of a rifle company and was now named the Special Boat Company, operating under the Commander Joint Services Amphibious Warfare Centre.
In mid-1962 Davies was appointed to 40 Commando as A Company Commander. In December, during operations in Brunei and Sarawak, his company, known as “Pug Force”, embarked in HMS Albion, landed by helicopter near Miri (Sarawak) to set up an ambush. This resulted in a “no show”, but “Pug Force” captured a number of rebels next day.
After 18 months at HQ Plymouth Group RM Davis joined HMS Albion in December 1965 as Amphibious Operations Officer for a two years. In that appointment he spent much of his time supporting operations conducted by 40 and 42 Commandos during the Borneo confrontation.
In 1968 Davis was appointed to the Joint Warfare Establishment at Old Sarum to teach amphibious warfare doctrine; his final appointment was as Second-in-Command Royal Marine Barracks Eastney.
He retired in 1971. At the end of a distinguished service career he was happy to be regarded in some quarters of the Royal Marines hierarchy as the “father of the modern SBS”.
Living in the Poole area he pursued a second career within financial services. He also served as vice-chairman of the Association of Jewish ex-Servicemen from 1982 to 1985.
He is survived by his wife Janet and two sons.
Lieutenant-Colonel “Pug” Davis, DSC, Royal Marines special forces officer, was born on December 9, 1923. He died on August 18, 2011, aged 87
Air Commodore Michael Rayson
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Senior RAF officer who spied on the Soviet arsenal at the height of the Cold War and later became commander of the Queen’s Flight
Mike Rayson will probably be best remembered in the RAF as an outstanding athlete and an accomplished transport aircraft pilot. His skill and reliability in the latter discipline led to his selection as the commander of the Queen’s Flight, but in the separate field of intelligence gathering, his service as Deputy Commander of BRIXMIS at the height of the Cold War was equally remarkable.
The British Mission to the C-in-C of the Group of Soviet Forces in Germany, BRIXMIS was established after the Second World War to mirror the Soviet Mission to the C-in-C British Army of the Rhine, SOXMIS. The function of the two missions was to facilitate good relations between the two former Allied commanders, but they soon became agencies for espionage, with particular regard to weapon innovation and changes to troop deployment.
Working with the similar US and French Missions that provided collateral evidence, over the years BRIXMIS was able to contribute significantly to Nato’s understanding of the potential enemy’s battle readiness, manoeuvre ability and limitations. At the time when Rayson joined the mission at the Potsdam base in 1976, the Soviet arsenal was about to be enhanced by pilotless drones and mine-laying helicopters. As the mission’s senior airman he led the study of these new weapon systems, both of intense interest to Nato intelligence mixed with doubt as to the all-weather operability of the larger Soviet helicopters.
Rayson took part in the laying up in observation hides, taking a particular personal interest in the question over all-weather capability, which required long hours in the open in the foul weather essential for acquisition of the requisite intelligence. Despite attempts by Russian and East German troops assigned to frustrate his observations, including an attempt to ram his car, he was able to confound the prevailing view by confirming the Soviets’ allweather capability.
As the senior RAF officer, he was entitled to fly a two-seater Chipmunk training aircraft over Soviet Army manoeuvre areas. Useful as this facility was for intelligence gathering, it was not without risk. Returning from one over-flying mission he found a bullet hole through the Chipmunk’s propeller boss. Afterwards he recorded: “As a Group Captain I might have been sitting behind a desk. It was really operational to be one of the ‘flight of angels’ around Berlin, even though the Chipmunk was very cold in winter.”
Michael John Rayson was born in 1930 in Guernsey, the only son of George Davie Rayson of the Merchant Navy. His early education took place during the German wartime occupation of the Channel Islands, before going to Elizabeth College, Guernsey, then to St Peter’s Hall, Oxford.
For him, university was a means of continuing and developing his career as a track and field events athlete. Although 6ft 6in tall, he had an athlete’s natural grace and rhythm essential for the successful hurdler. Having left Oxford in 1951 with an athletics Blue but no degree, he joined the RAF as a cadet pilot and soon became the Service’s champion hurdler.
After commissioning and qualification, he flew Hastings and Valetta transports in the Middle East based in Egypt, Libya and at Khormaksar in what is now Yemen. In 1954 he was awarded the Iraqi Rescue Medal by the then Government in Baghdad in recognition of his service for flying in essential flood protection supplies at a time of serious breaches in the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates.
Appointment as ADC to AOC Middle East in Cyprus marked him out as someone destined for service outside flying and possible senior rank. An exchange tour with the Royal Canadian Air Force in Trenton, Ontario, was followed by promotion to wing commander aged 38 and the prestigious post of commander of the Queen’s Flight of aircraft retained for official use by members of the Royal Family. Whereas the Captain of the Flight, at that time Air Commodore Sir Archie Winskill (obituary August 26, 2005) had overall responsibility for operations, Rayson ran the flight day to day and was appointed LVO on completion of this assignment.
On leaving the Queen’s Flight he had a staff appointment with Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE) at Mons before going to the Oman as Senior Air Officer in the rank of Group Captain in 1974. By that time, the insurrection in the southern province of Dhofar was under control and the Sultan was anxious to develop an Omani Air Force with local pilots. Rayson was responsible for advising on the selection process for Omani aircrew, the acquisition of aircraft suitable for the environment and on the countless administrative details of establishing an organisation in which British participation was of necessity diminishing.
During the German occupation of Guernsey, together with all school-age children on the island, Rayson had been obliged to learn German on Hitler’s order. This greatly facilitated his final service post, that of British Air Attaché at the British Embassy in Bonn from 1982 to 1985. He retired not to Guernsey but to Haselmere in Surrey, where he became first the president and then the honorary president of the Haselmere Gardening Society.
His wife Rosemary, née Wardley, to whom he was married in 1955, survives him with a son and daughter.
Air Commodore M. J. Rayson, LVO, Air Attaché Bonn, 1982-85, was born on July 19, 1930. He died on August 12, 2011, aged 81
The Mau Mau rebellion broke out in 1952 as members of the Kikuyu tribe launched a campaign against the exclusive use of Kenyan land by white settlers; it later came to be identified (wrongly, in the opinion of many historians) as a nationalist movement intent on ending colonialism. The rebels, who became known as Mau Mau (possibly after a military code word they used) carried out massacres of white settlers, including women and children, and then against many of their own people who refused to join them. There was widespread fear and intimidation.
The British colonial authorities struggled to impose themselves against the guerrillas. There were atrocities on both sides, and more than 80,000 Kikuyu — a third of all adult males in the tribe — were detained without trial for long periods. Nyingi, for example, claims he was held for nine years without being charged.
Gavaghan was a colonial district officer when he was recruited in 1957, after the uprising had effectively been crushed, to oversee the “rehabilitation” of Mau Mau prisoners at six camps in the Mwea area of central Kenya. Tens of thousands had been released, but further progress had been held back by the continued detention of around 20,000 Kikuyu considered to be the most fanatical.
In 2002 a Harvard history professor, Caroline Elkins, discovered a “secret and personal” memo – headed Use of Force in Enforcing Discipline – from Sir Evelyn Baring, the Governor of Kenya, to the Colonial Secretary, Alan Lennox Boyd. Baring revealed that Gavaghan had established a regime of “dilution”, involving physical beatings, as a means to break the prisoners; the government needed to give this legal cover, as violence was “in fact the only way of dealing with the more dyed-in-the-wool Mau Mau men”.
In an attached memorandum, Eric Griffiths-Jones, Kenya’s senior law officer during the Emergency, reported on a visit he had made to watch the arrival of a group of 80 prisoners at a camp under Gavaghan’s supervision. The men, he wrote, were ordered to change into camp clothes and have their heads shorn: “Any who showed any reluctance or hesitation to do so were hit with fists and/or slapped with the open hand. In some cases, however, defiance was more obstinate, and on the first indication of such obstinacy, three or four of the European officers immediately converged on the man and 'rough housed’ him, stripping his clothes off him, hitting him, on occasion kicking him and, if necessary, putting him on the ground. Blows struck were solid, hard ones, mostly with closed fists and about the head, stomach, sides and back.” There was, however “no attempt to strike at the testicles or any other manifestations of sadistic brutality.” Gavaghan, he said, had maintained “direct personal control over the proceedings”.
Gavaghan explained to him, Griffiths-Jones went on, that in previous instances a persistent resister had “ a foot placed on his throat and mud stuffed in his mouth. In the last resort, a man whose resistance could not be broken down was knocked unconscious.”
It has been pointed out in Gavaghan’s defence that during his year at Mwea there were no reported deaths or serious injuries, while 20,000 prisoners were released. But the last 200 “hard cases” were transferred to Hola, in south-eastern Kenya, where 11 were beaten to death in 1959 by guards — a tragedy which severely rattled the Conservative government and which Gavaghan condemned.
In Of Lions and Dung Beetles, the first volume of his memoirs, Gavaghan noted that during his time at Mwea he had lost control with a prisoner only once: “I hit him back-handed across the face, ripping my knuckles on his teeth.” Gavaghan was appointed MBE in 1958, and he received a congratulatory letter from Baring describing his work as “one of the outstanding successes of the emergency”.
Yet at the end of Gavaghan’s tenure at Mwea, a young district officer, John Nottingham (described by Gavaghan as encumbered by “confused pretensions and attitudes”), was assigned to take over, only to refuse. “I went to see Gavaghan in his office,” he recalled later. “He said that people were just roughed up, it wasn’t anything very violent. He described it as being like a good rugger scrum. I went back to Nairobi and wrote possibly the most pompous note of my life. I said I myself think I know the difference between right and wrong, and I also realise it’s not my job to teach the government the difference between right and wrong. But what you’re doing is wrong and I can’t accept this job.”
Gavaghan’s final postings in Kenya were at Government House where, in the run-up to Independence, he led the process of Africanising the top 10,000 civil service jobs.
In 1962 he was recruited by the United Nations for a mission in Somalia and for the next three decades he worked on humanitarian missions for UN, Irish and voluntary agencies in developing countries, including Libya, Sudan, Ethiopia, Uganda, Afghanistan, Indonesia and Tanzania. He advised Zimbabwe’s African leaders in the years before Independence, and also worked for Texaco and Pfizer International.
Two weeks after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, when the Japanese overran the Philippines, American and Filipino forces retreated into the mountainous jungles of the Bataan peninsula. Eventually, in April 1942, some 78,000 of them surrendered. Unprepared for the scale of their victory, the Japanese decided forcibly to march the PoWs to camps via a railhead 75 miles away at San Fernando.
Brown had not eaten for four days as he began the march, and soon slipped to the back of the column, only to be stabbed by a guard.
“He jabbed me in the ass with the bayonet, and yelled: 'Speedo’. Well, that got me going pretty good,” Brown recalled. “I never was at the back of the line again.”
On the second day, Brown and his exhausted comrades spent 21 hours marching 30 miles. On day three the grave digging started. One American soldier who had fallen into a coma was tipped into a shallow trench dug by the captives, who were then ordered by the Japanese to fill it in.
“As the earth began falling about the American,” according to one account, “he revived and tried to climb out. His fingers gripped the edge of the grave. He hoisted himself to a standing position.” At bayonet point, a Filipino prisoner was forced to stand over the American with a shovel, which he then smashed down on his stricken comrade’s head. The man fell backwards into the grave, and the burial detail filled it up.
A week later, at the end of the murderous 75-mile trek in temperatures of 90ºF, Brown and another 12,000 American prisoners were put on trains for the three-hour journey to a PoW enclosure at Camp O’Donnell, a former US Air Force facility. At least 600 Americans and 6,000 Filipinos had perished along the way, and another 1,000 Americans and 16,000 Filipinos died over the following six weeks.