The Pandaruan Crossing. 69 Squadron goes to war for the first time!
By (late) Brigadier Mike Stephens
“This expedition provided the first occasion on which Gurkha Engineers operated in direct support of other arms in face of an enemy”. LECM Perowne in Gurkha Sapper
69 Squadron was added to the order of battle of The Gurkha Engineers in January 1962. It was based in Kluang, Malaya, with the Regimental HQ, support and training elements. The Squadron’s training cadre formed the first field troop under Major Tony Cronk who would shortly take the full strength 68 Squadron back to Tidworth.
Major Dick Francis became the first officer commanding as additional manpower was added throughout the summer. But when Dom Verschoyle and I arrived in late September, its strength was still less than half its paper strength of 285 all ranks. The other officers at that time were the 2i/c, Captain Robin Jordan, and Lieutenants Kit Brown and Bruce Abernethy-Clarke.
Within two weeks of joining the Squadron, I was seconded with a section of 12 men, to a 2/10 GR company then on anti-piracy operations off the east coast of British North Borneo. After 5 weeks I returned to Kluang and re-joined the remainder of my troop. Two weeks later I was sent to Singapore to act as unit-enplanement officer for 69’s air-move to Kota Belud in North Borneo. On arrival, 69 settled into construction tasks on the large training area started during earlier sapper squadron deployments.
On Saturday 9th December, with Dick Francis away climbing Mount Kinabalu and Robin Jordan on a staff exam course in Singapore, the four troop commanders awoke with the pleasant thought that in the evening we would be enjoying a party in Jesselton, hosted by the Governor’s ADC, Richard Marriott. Only when the camp’s daytime radio link to Singapore was opened later in the morning did we learn that: a. on the day before, a rebellion had broken out in Brunei and parts of neighbouring Sarawak, and b. we had to send a detachment of 12 sappers to Brunei that evening. (The order was not received until late in the morning, as the message telling the camp office to keep open the daytime link was not sent until after it had been closed down the previous evening!!)
I was selected by the “council of lieutenants” to undertake this mission! When my section, with its landrover and trailer, were being loaded onto the Beverley at Jesselton airport at about 11pm, my fellow troop commanders and Richard Marriott came from their party to the aircraft to say farewell. As we flew off to war, Kit Brown’s parting enjoinder was “Mike, don’t forget to keep a war diary!” What follows was not written in a war diary, but firmly etched on my memory for life!
During the relatively short flight to Brunei, we were told that the Captain had authorised us to load magazines and be prepared for action as we touched down. On arrival we were immediately given the task of defending the airport, although, thankfully, the only sounds of battle were some way off in Brunei Town. With just twelve men I felt it would be useful to have help to do this task and I was told that I could ask incoming infantry to lend a hand!
Having set up a skeleton sentry system around the airport building, I saw a Gurkha officer leading his men away from it in the darkness and sought his help in my halting Gurkhali; “there’s no need to speak Gurkhali to me, I speak perfect English” – in the gloom, I had mistaken Sandhurst-commissioned Lalbahadur Pun for a QGO!
Feeling much relieved, together we watched over the security of the airport until he moved to Brunei Town at first light. The next two days we mounted guards at night and did odd jobs during the day, mainly associated with keeping the rather basic plumbing working and helping marshal the large numbers of people transiting in and out; the latter included quite a number of expatriates fleeing the island and, sadly, the bodies of 1/2nd GR casualties. One bit of real engineering was the filling in of a shallow hole at the edge of the main runway, which allowed me to practise some of the skills picked up on young officer plant familiarisation.
We then heard that further elements of the Squadron were shortly due to arrive from Kota Belud and that my party was to move into the area of the government building in Brunei Town. When we arrived, no one at brigade HQ seemed to know where we were to be billeted or what we were there to do.
Greatly in need of the loo, I sought assistance from a helpful looking civilian; I thanked him graciously, to be told shortly afterwards that I should avoid troubling the Sultan for any more information! We were then tasked, by the rather fearsome brigade major, to move prisoners from the doubtful security of nearby tennis courts into the Nee Boon Pang cinema and there to guard them throughout the coming night. This solved our accommodation problem!
After a disturbed night watching over some very noisome inmates, I was summoned early next morning to see the Commander 99 Brigade, Brigadier Pat Patterson. Fearing that the Brigade M
My reinforcements arrived during the morning and I was relieved to find they included my troop QGO, GLt Balbahadur Limbu, whom I was just starting to get to know in Kota Belud. Together with Spr Jahansing Rai in the original section, I grew to rely on their excellent English to help me when my rather basic Gurkhali failed to get a message across to my loyal and tolerant troop.
With no time to settle in together, the brigade staff warned that we would be moving as soon as a boat became available. I was told to stay close to the ops room; as the afternoon, evening then night wore on, I snatched what sleep I could, lying on a rather grand desk in an adjacent office. Eventually, early next morning, we were told to report, with our transport, to the dockside.
There we joined a motley crew of natives, with goods and chattels, being loaded onto a narrow river boat, clearly with no room for our landrover and trailer. As it was not known when the next boat would be travelling up the Limbang River, we cross-loaded as much as we could of our tools, equipment and Gurkha rations, for which we could find space on the boat. The driver, landrover and trailer – complete with C42 wireless! – were sent to join the balance of the newly-arrived squadron members at the airport.
The journey upstream to Limbang took several hours with the two sections of sappers acting as lookouts with loaded weapons ready to hand. Arriving incident free at Limbang at about lunchtime, we were grateful to unload ourselves and stores, and to stretch cramped limbs. Marines guided us to our accommodation in the courthouse. I was summoned immediately to a CO’s briefing at which the rescued Resident had just arrived.
An opened bottle of beer was thrust into my hand as I was introduced first to the CO, Lt Col Robin Bridges, and then to Dick Morris. It was a very convivial meeting recorded by a press photographer, which led to a feature on the front page of the Straits Times of Singapore the next weekend. The caption under a large photograph describes Dick Morris as ”thanking his rescuers” with beer bottle in hand and someone’s prominent back view – clearly not a marine – monopolising the foreground. Fortunately, my beer bottle was out of sight!
After a sandwich lunch, Balbahadur and I accompanied the CO and his recce group to explore the route towards Bangar. Some way down the road, we reached the suspect culvert; although needing repair, our heavily loaded long-wheelbase landrover crossed without causing the culvert any distress. We drove on along the road until we found the rather more substantial obstacle of the 200ft wide and tidal, Pandaruan River, the interstate boundary between Sarawak and Brunei.
Clearly the crossing was not in regular use other than by the small rowing boat tied up nearby. The CO looked expectantly at me and asked if I could do anything about it. Having noticed on arrival in Limbang many empty oil drums on the waterfront, I offered to build an oil-drum raft. The CO accepted this solution, emphasising that he wanted to secure Bangar by last light the following day.
Some hasty mental arithmetic on the drive back to Limbang told me that I would need at least 24 oil drums to give buoyancy of over 4 tons, which I felt should be enough to carry a long-wheelbase landrover and trailer – the Commando’s only form of transport in Limbang – with adequate allowance for the dead weight of the raft’s superstructure.
With dusk fast approaching, it was clear that nothing could be done at the crossing site that evening, but the troop set about collecting oil drums from the river bank and other material needed from the PWD’s well-stocked yard to which we were given free access. I commandeered an ancient, but serviceable, landrover and was given use of a tipper truck driven by a loyal PWD driver. A quick roll call showed that I was the only other driver!
Finding suitable oil drums without bullet holes in them proved difficult! The marines as they assaulted had used their Vickers machine gun to suppress very heavy defensive fire from the rebels, who had been hiding in positions along the waterfront! Eventually we collected 27 unperforated drums, assorted timber, cordage and steel wire, to allow us to pre-fabricate 3-drum buoyancy units.
My 20 men worked tirelessly throughout the long tropical evening to assemble the units which I hoped would speed construction at the river side. Cumbersome as they were to manhandle on to our tipper truck, during the next morning, all units were successfully ferried by our PWD driver to the crossing site some 8 miles away. This stalwart driver also ferried everything else we needed for the crossing while we set to work on the raft itself – but not before we took possession of the small rowing boat spotted the previous evening. This proved invaluable throughout the day!
I had collected stores to fix a security SWR cable across the river with two single-sheave blocks linked back to the raft to control its orientation. Early thoughts of a flying ferry disappeared when we saw the relatively sluggish flow of water at that time and we planned for the raft to be pulled across the river by lines fixed fore and aft on the raft and to the far and home banks. The site was far enough upstream for any tidal change to affect only the speed of flow and not its direction.
The troop laboured on throughout the morning, with square lashings being completed with increasing speed! Gradually as the raft took shape a working party was sent off to fix the SWR cable and to start work on the approaches. By now elements, of the Commando were appearing at the site; on the second “what’s the prognosis, Mike” from the CO, I asked if commando spectators could help cut and collect timber for the corduroy-road approach ramps. Soon, with a few hours of daylight left, I judged that, with at least 50% of the oil-drums’ volume above water, there was sufficient buoyancy left to support the anticipated “live load”. We were ready to go!
The CO was happy for his lead section to make the trial crossing with the first fully laden long-wheelbase landrover and trailer. With fingers firmly crossed we watched as the commando driver guided his vehicle down over the partly completed corduroy track approach, up the planked loading ramps and on to the deck, all with a little help from the vehicle’s complement of marines. Again, with their help hauling on the line to the far bank, and troop members adjusting the upstream ropes to align the raft as it approached the landing ramp, the raft completed the crossing without incident.
The remaining marine landrover drivers and crews quickly picked up what was needed. With the raft operators gaining in confidence and bank parties repairing any damage to corduroy ramps, the long procession of landrovers of 42 Commando, less Lima and Support companies, crossed the Pandaruan River without mishap. The Commando quickly went on the few miles to Bangar and, finding little opposition, secured the town by dusk.
I cannot remember who was in charge of the last marine party to cross, but his complimentary comments were gratefully received, as was his solicitous advice on how we should defend ourselves in our over-night accommodation, a nearby native hut on stilts.
I had decided that our small troop should remain at the crossing that night. We had seen no signs of rebel activity during the day, but sentries were particularly alert as we tidied up the site and enjoyed a well-earned compo bhat. Sentries apart, the troop slept well that night.
The following morning, I left Balbahadur Saheb to tidy up loose ends and drove back, with my orderly as “shotgun”, to report to the Commando’s rear party commander, Captain Jeremy Moore, that his sappers were in good order and asked him to signal back to Brigade HQ that this was so.
The solidly built raft, constructed by my splendidly loyal and hard-working troop, continued to transport vehicles and passengers across the Pandaruan for at least the next ten weeks. It survived a flood which carried it and the cross-river SWR cable, some way down stream, and washed away the approaches. It was back in operation within two days with no visible damage to the raft.
Operating the raft and keeping open the road from Limbang to the crossing remained as a troop task, but after our few days in “close support” to 42 Commando, we were soon under pressure from the Resident to provide an airstrip to give Limbang another means of reaching the outside world. At his regular “G” groups as he called them (G = gin) I was tasked to find a site.
Recalling his WW2 recollections of light aircraft landing on suitable stretches of road, Dick Morris suggested I explore this possibility. I quickly found a suitably straight stretch of road on the way to the raft site and started jungle clearance for what is now Limbang Airport.
Regrettably, after 10 weeks, I had to leave a challenging, but thoroughly enjoyable, independent troop deployment, to return to Malaya for my Gurkhali Language Course. Our raft was eventually replaced with a Sherbahadur Raft based on assault boats – but that is someone else’s story!
Afternotes:
Maj Gen Lance Perowne’s “Gurkha Sapper” and Brigadier Hank Bowen’s “Queen’s Gurkha Sapper” describe in some detail the rest of the story of 69 Squadron’s part in Borneo operations between December 1962 and January 1966.
Sadly, in the “Limbang Raid”, Captain Jeremy Moore had lost five men killed and five injured. He was awarded a bar to his MC as a result of his action commanding what has, since that day, been known as Limbang Company, 42 Commando RM. 20 years later as Major General, he was knighted following his command of Land Forces during the Falkland’s War.
The reference to 42 Cdo’s Support Company, deserves a little explanation. A few years back I went to a book-launch by Paddy Ashdown of his autobiography. He dwelt for some time on his experience of the Brunei Rebellion. He was a troop commander in Support Company tasked with relieving Lawas by airborne assault, in two Twin Pioneers, at the same time as Jeremy Moore’s attack on Limbang.
Paddy was sent to clear the town with his TP load at just before 6.30 am. The other party moved to release the hostages reputed to be held in the District Officer’s house on top of a knoll. The marines went up the knoll in battle formation to be greeted, not by rebel fire, but by the DO holding a G&T aloft with cheering fellow party goers. Apparently when faced by the rebels he had addressed them with his Webley service revolver held high and demanded they surrender immediately to him as Her Majesty The Queen’s Representative.
They surrendered. In Limbang, one man made the difference. Salleh Bin Sambas had been a police sergeant in the town who defected and led the assault on the police station at the start of the rebellion. I believe that Dick Morris was then taken prisoner when he tried to treat with the rebels to stop any more bloodshed. It was Salleh Bin Sambas who manned the police bren gun that killed the marines. When I visited Limbang with Bill Chesshyre in 1980, we met Salleh Bin Sambas restored to respectability as District Officer in Limbang!
