By 1967, there were still a dozen British mercenaries in the Yemen, training the royalists, laying mines and setting up ambushes. More than 20,000 of Nasser’s troops had been killed, while the Yemeni royalists had lost 5,000.
In June that year, as Nasser and his allies prepared to go to war with Israel, the Israelis launched pre-emptive air strikes, destroying the Egyptian, Syrian and Jordanian air forces.
With their total air superiority, they were able to decimate Nasser’s army as it advanced, wrecking its tanks and killing more than 15,000 men. Thousands more surrendered.
The Six Day War was a resounding victory for Israel — and spelt the end of Nasser’s dreams of dominating the Arabian peninsular. He withdrew from Yemen and after four years the Egyptian occupation was over.
I have not been able to get my hands on this book and read it, but it definitely caught my eye after reading this review below. These guys remind me of such famous and highly effective private fighting forces like the Flying Tigers or Executive Outcomes. This private army had a huge impact on events in the region as you can see from the quote up top, and this book supposedly lays it all out.
Probably the one story in this article that caught my eye was the event where they cut out the lungs of a poison gas victim, to send it back to Britain and prove that Egypt was using poison gas in Yemen. That is news to me and I did not know that Egypt was using WMD’s during that war.
I also thought it was funny that Saudi Arabia Royalty funded the operation, which also included an Israeli air supply contingent. Like the article mentioned, Saudi Arabia did not know this little fact and I am sure they would have cut off funding if they had found out. lol Cool book and if any of the readership has anything to add, please feel free to comment. –Matt
Buy the book here.
Jim Johnson, the leader of this private army.(he passed away in 2008)
How a rag-tag team of SAS veterans changed history in a secret war Britain STILL won’t admit
By Annabel Venning17th February 2011
Crouching behind rocks in the rugged mountains that rose abruptly out of the Yemen desert, were three British soldiers, former members of the SAS, together with their commander, Lieutenant Colonel Johnny Cooper.
They had lain in wait, machine guns at the ready, all through the cold desert night. At 9am the first Egyptian soldiers advanced into the wadi (gully), their infantry packed shoulder to shoulder, followed by tanks and artillery.
Behind the rocks, nobody moved. The success of the ambush depended on surprise. Then, as the enemy reached a small plain that Cooper had designated as the ‘killing ground,’ he gave the signal.
A rattle of machine gun fire cut through the wadi, bullets sending geysers of sand into the air, amid screams of pain and terror.
The Egyptians’ front ranks tumbled, Cooper remembered: ‘Like ninepins. Panic broke out in the ranks behind and then their tanks opened fire. Their shells were exploding?.?.?.?among their own men.’
In the ten-minute firefight that ensued, many of the Egyptian casualties were from their own guns. All day they fired on Cooper’s positions. But he and his men, with their Yemeni comrades, were dug well into their ‘funk holes’. As night fell the Egyptian force withdrew back to their base in the Yemeni capital of Sana’a, leaving 85 bodies behind.
It was a rout, the first of many successful engagements that over the next four years would see a small force of British soldiers fight fiercely in a desert war of which most of their countrymen were unaware.
Wearing Arab dress, like latter-day Lawrences of Arabia, the men, mostly ex-SAS, fought in a savage, dirty war of poison bombs, secret airdrops and desert shoot-outs.
It was an operation that began with a deal made over gin and tonics in a Mayfair gentlemen’s club and progressed into arms smuggling, ambushes and the existence of a private army, directed from a one-room basement headquarters in Chelsea by a debonair former Army officer and his sidekick, a beautiful former debutante.
Wearing Arab dress, like latter-day Lawrences of Arabia, the men, mostly ex-SAS, fought in a savage, dirty war of poison bombs, secret airdrops and desert shoot-outs.
Although successive governments denied any involvement in the conflict, the rumours have swirled for years. Was it an SAS operation secretly directed by the British government? Were they acting on behalf of Israel? Or were they mercenaries, Dogs of War, fighting for money rather than patriotism?
Now, for the first time in 40 years, the men who fought in the Yemen have broken their silence in a new book to reveal the truth about The War That Never Was and how a small band of courageous men, facing overwhelming odds struggled to turn the tide and to determine the future of the Middle East.
The war began in September 1962 when the Yemeni royal family was deposed in a coup by republicans, engineered by Gamal Abdel Nasser, the president of nearby Egypt.
Nasser installed a puppet ruler in the capital and poured Egyptian troops into the country to secure the ‘revolution’.
The deposed Imam Al-Badr fled into the mountains where he began gathering a large resistance movement. While some members of the British government wanted Britain to stay clear of the conflict, others feared that if Yemen was allowed to fall to Nasser then neighbouring Aden — Britain’s prized colony and vital port — might be next.
Stopping Nasser in the Yemen might not just save Aden but the whole Middle East from his plans to dominate the region.
In October 1962, Tory MP Billy McLean, who had fought in guerrilla operations during World War II, slipped into Yemen disguised as an Arab.
He discovered that the Egyptians had become an occupying force and were trying to crush resistance by bombing royalist villages with poison gas, causing the agonising deaths of men, women and children.
First their bodies swelled up, then they began vomiting blood, then their skin and flesh began falling off. Days later, they died.
Despite the British government’s official stance of non-intervention, McLean and other elements within the Conservative party decided to act. Two government ministers — Duncan Sandys, the Colonial Secretary, and Julian Amery, the Aviation minister — met McLean and David Stirling, the founder of the SAS, at White’s club in Mayfair.
When asked if he would take control of the operation, Jim Johnson replied: ‘Well, yes, I’ve nothing particular to do in the next few days. I might have a go.’
Over drinks, they hatched a plan to mount a clandestine operation to aid the Yemeni royalists and deal Nasser’s expansionism a severe blow.
The plan was that a small team would be inserted into Yemen to blow up the Russian aircraft that had been bombing the royalists. It would be completely clandestine.
If word ever leaked out, the government would deny all knowledge, although Harold Macmillan, the Prime Minister was kept informed.
So secret was it to be that no serving members of the Army could take part. The men would be trained soldiers, but working privately — and in command was to be Jim Johnson, a Lloyds underwriter and former SAS territorial officer. When asked if he would take control of the operation, he replied: ‘Well, yes, I’ve nothing particular to do in the next few days. I might have a go.’
Johnson began turning his Chelsea home into the operation’s headquarters. Having recruited Lieutenant Colonel Johnny Cooper, he managed to ‘borrow’ three SAS soldiers, who were given permission to take ‘unauthorised’ absence for a few weeks.
The operation was financed largely (and secretly) by the Saudi royal family, who also wished to curb Nasser’s expansionism, fearing that he might target their kingdom, too.
Johnson bought a large consignment of ammunition, explosives and sub-machine guns, which he stored in his basement. The complex logistics of the operation were organised by Johnson’s assistant, the stunning 21-year-old Fiona Fraser, niece of David Stirling and the daughter of Lord Lovat.
She organised the mercenaries’ passports and visas and kept in touch with their families. Once, she even had to transport a suitcase of explosives across London. During the course of the operation, several of the men developed serious crushes on her, but she took it all in her unflappable stride.
So it was that the men flew out of London Airport, their suitcases bulging with weapons and explosives: airport security in those days being almost non-existent.
At Tripoli airport in Libya, where they changed planes, one of the suitcases burst open, releasing rolls of plastic explosive wrapped in paper. It smelt like almonds, so Cooper nonchalantly explained to the Libyan security guards who helped him repack the suitcase that he was a marzipan salesman.
Over the next few years, Johnson’s private army grew as, funded by the Saudis, they bought more arms and ammunition and recruited more ‘soldiers of fortune,’ men who yearned for the camaraderie and adventure of their former Army lives (and the opportunity to earn better money than they could on Civvy Street).
When they finally reached Yemen, the mercenaries realised that the airfield at which the Russian planes were stationed was too heavily guarded. The original plan to destroy them would have to be abandoned.
Instead, they began training Yemeni royalists in guerrilla tactics. Until then, the tribesmen’s tactics had consisted of little more than running at the enemy, brandishing their long jambiyas — daggers. Cooper and his companions showed them how to lay mines and mount ambushes.
Living in caves on the mountainside, wearing Arab dress and adopting Arab names — Cooper, with his deep tan and black hair, wryly styled himself Abdullah bin Nasser — the men embarked on a mission that would last four years.
So successful was it that Nasser began to believe there was an army of at least 800 mercenaries fighting him there: in truth, the figure ranged from just six to 50.
Cooper persuaded Johnson that by supplying further arms, ammunition and training to the royalists, they could help turn the tide of the war in their favour, saving Yemen and with it Aden, from Nasser.
Over the next few years, Johnson’s private army grew as, funded by the Saudis, they bought more arms and ammunition and recruited more ‘soldiers of fortune,’ men who yearned for the camaraderie and adventure of their former Army lives (and the opportunity to earn better money than they could on Civvy Street).
Soon, in caves and villages all over the Yemeni mountains, British men dressed as Arabs but with codenames such as ‘Grin’ and ‘Dandy’ communicated with each other by radio, signalling details of Egyptian troop or air movements, sheltering from bombs and living on their wits.
Although the British government remained officially unaware of the operation, MI6 was kept fully informed. On one occasion, the Press got wind of it and questions were asked in the House of Commons, but the Prime Minister, by then Sir Alec Douglas-Home, denied all knowledge of such activities.
A far bigger scandal would have resulted had the Egyptians or anyone else learned that, from 1964, Johnson’s men were being supplied by air-drops of ammunition and arms from Israeli planes, as a result of a top-secret deal between the mercenaries and Mossad, the Israeli intelligence service.
Operation Leopard, as it was codenamed, took place at night with Israeli pilots skilfully flying 14 missions into the high mountains to drop their consignments.
Every gun that was dropped to the British soldiers had to have its serial number brazed out lest they fall into enemy hands. Had their source been discovered the ramifications would be explosive.
Meals were always irregular: the mercenaries ate whenever they got the chance
The Saudis would have cut off their funding immediately if they had learned of the Israeli involvement. For the Israelis, though, the co-operation made perfect sense.
Nasser had sworn to destroy Israel, and war between the two countries seemed inevitable. But if the British tied up large numbers of his forces in the Yemen, he would have fewer to deploy against Israel.
Conditions for the mercenaries were tough in the mountains and desert. Hygiene became a distant memory. Sand penetrated everywhere and there was no water for washing. Food was limited.
‘We lived off cigarettes, mainly,’ remembers Kerry Stone, now 71, a former SAS man who spent two years in the Yemen, dropping from twelve-and-a-half to nine stone. They were under almost constant bombardment. Stone was bombed at least 100 times: ‘It wore you down eventually,’ he concedes with some understatement.
After one poison bomb attack on a nearby cave in which many villagers had sheltered, he had the gruesome task of butchering one of the victims’ bodies to remove the lungs. They were sent to Britain as proof the Egyptians were using poison gas against civilians (although neither the government, nor the UN, took any action).
Three of his comrades were less fortunate. Travelling through tribal territory, they were tricked by a group of tribesmen into leaving their rifles in their Land Rover and led into an ambush. Their bloated bodies were retrieved, riddled with bullets, some days later.
For the mercenaries, it was travelling that posed the greatest danger. On one occasion, Kerry Stone’s guide inadvertently led him too close to some Egyptian positions in the morning mist.
Suddenly, the mist cleared and Stone and his companions found themselves exposed as enemy machine guns opened up. Stone flung himself to the ground, but: ‘There wasn’t a morsel of cover. I got up and ran like hell. Then they opened up with rifles. For the next hour and three quarters we were machine-gunned and mortared, before we managed to get back to our lines, where I promptly threw up.’
Three of his comrades were less fortunate. Travelling through tribal territory, they were tricked by a group of tribesmen into leaving their rifles in their Land Rover and led into an ambush. Their bloated bodies were retrieved, riddled with bullets, some days later.
It was too risky to fly them back to Britain for burial — questions might have been asked — so they were buried in Saudi Arabia. They were the only British casualties.
By 1967, there were still a dozen British mercenaries in the Yemen, training the royalists, laying mines and setting up ambushes. More than 20,000 of Nasser’s troops had been killed, while the Yemeni royalists had lost 5,000.
In June that year, as Nasser and his allies prepared to go to war with Israel, the Israelis launched pre-emptive air strikes, destroying the Egyptian, Syrian and Jordanian air forces.
With their total air superiority, they were able to decimate Nasser’s army as it advanced, wrecking its tanks and killing more than 15,000 men. Thousands more surrendered.
The Six Day War was a resounding victory for Israel — and spelt the end of Nasser’s dreams of dominating the Arabian peninsular. He withdrew from Yemen and after four years the Egyptian occupation was over.
On November 1, 1967, the signal went out from the operation’s radio hub in Jeddah — known as ‘Bosom’ — to all stations in Yemen: ‘Terminate.’
In the months that followed, royalist forces entered a power-sharing arrangement with the republicans, and the Yemeni Arab Republic came into being. The royal family, however, went into exile.
Today, with Yemen now home to Islamic fundamentalism and Al Qaeda terrorist plots and training camps, regular SAS soldiers are operating in the hinterland, tracking terrorists, identifying their training camps and training Yemeni troops to fight them.
If they ever spot the burned-out hull of an Egyptian tank, or a skeletal hand protruding from the sand, they might pause briefly to remember other soldiers who, four decades earlier, also fought in the desert alongside the Yemenis: the brave men of Jim Johnson’s secret army.
Adapted from The War That Never Was: The True Story Of The Men Who Fought Britain’s Most Secret Battle by Duff Hart Davis, published by Century at £14.99. ©?Duff Hart Davis 2011. To order a copy (p&p free), call 0845 155 0720.
Story here.
Buy the book here.