Have You a Tiger In Your Family?

Rank : WO2

Army Number : 4855159

Unit : 2nd Bn, 1st Bn

Biography :

Arthur Swinburn enlisted in The Leicestershire Regiment on 24.11.1928 for 9 years with the Colours and 3 in the Reserve. For the next ten years he served in Germany in the 2nd Battalion, in India in the 1st Battalion, and in Londonderry, Aldershot and Palestine in the 2nd Battalion. His photograph shows him wearing the GSM, which would have been awarded for his service in Palestine with the 2nd Battalion 1938-39. He was seconded to the Commandos in about 1940, with whom he served with in operations in the Dodecanese (islands in the Aegean Sea), Crete, and the Western Desert. He was taken prisoner by the Germans in Crete in 1941 but escaped and spent six months roaming the hill country. It was perhaps for that episode that he was Mentioned in Despatches (L/G. 15.12.1942 in the rank of Sergeant (Acting WO2) ‘in recognition of gallant and distinguished services in the Middle East during the period November 1941 to April 1942’. He took part in Operation 'Agreement' behind the lines at Tobruk in September 1942 and, with many of the men in his Special Service Troop unit, became a Prisoner of War. Nothing more is known of him until four months after the end of the War in Europe. Swinburn would have been released from captivity, and it is to be presumed that the citation which led to the award of the DCM related to his conduct on Operation Agreement, which is described below. The London Gazette (13.9.1945) blandly (under)states that the award was "in recognition of gallant and distinguished services in the field".
Arthur Swinburn was commissioned into The Royal Pioneer Corps (RPC) on 11.5.1946, and was awarded the Long Service & Good Conduct Medal wef December that year. He served in a number of RPC units at home and was promoted Captain in May 1952, joining the RPC Depot at Wrexham. He was also there, involved in training reservists called up for the Suez Crisis in 1956, in which summer he gained a place in the Army 100 for rifle shooting at Bisley. At some stage he was Senior Labour Control Officer in Salonika where he met and married his Greek wife Vassiliki. He transferred to the Reserve of Officers in 1 January 1957, and retired from the Army twelve months later. He died in 1993, aged 79.
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Operation Agreement
The information comes almost exclusively from the book ‘Tobruk Commando (the raid to destroy Rommel’s base)’ by Gordon Landsborough, published by Greenhill Books in 1989, ISBN 1-85367-025-1. It describes Operation Agreement, a little-known British commando raid on Tobruk in Libya on 13/14 September 1942, the month before the Battle of Alamein. At the time 300 miles behind the front line, Tobruk was a key supply port for Rommel’s Army, and protected by German and Italian troops. When initially conceived, the plan for the operation was fairly simple: a small commando-style raid launched from the land to destroy Rommel’s bomb-proof oil-storage tanks. It subsequently snowballed significantly, in size and complexity, to include significant elements of the RN, Royal Marines, Army and RAF.

Operation Agreement was a combined operation designed to destroy shipping in Tobruk harbour and the oil-storage tanks and to neutralize the port itself. The overland element of the operation was carried out by D Squadron Long Range Desert Group (SAS) and a Special Services commando (of about 100 all ranks and capbadges and in which Swinburn was serving), travelling in six 30-cwt Chevrolet trucks and eight 3-toners respectively. They infiltrated covertly, reaching Tobruk from the south after a thousand-mile approach drive south from Cairo, westwards to the south of the Quattara Depression and via Kufra. The seaborne assault element comprised Royal Marines and Infantry, who after the landing beaches had been secured by the Special Services commando, would land in darkness on the coast in Motor Torpedo Boats and Motor Launches, supported by the ships of the RN. Despite the gallantry shown, the operation was a failure. All but a handful of those who fought on the land were either killed or taken prisoner, including all but six of the Special Services commando, and 300 RMs, a company of Argylls and some Royal Northumberland Fusilier machine gunners, all of whom were landed in the wrong place. Also lost were most of the RN ships and boats, including an AA cruiser HMS Coventry and two destroyers HMSs Sikh and Zulu, two Motor Launches, and 3 MTBs, with one MTB ending in enemy hands.
The Squadron Sergeant Major of the Special Services commando was Arthur Swinburn of The Leicestershire Regiment, who was captured and later awarded the DCM for his part in the battle. The extracts in the following pages are taken verbatim from the book Tobruk Commando and describe some of what he did. Sentences in square brackets to set the scene.
[The Special Services commando element meet up with the SAS squadron south of Cairo:] ‘For the most part the commando looked big – bigger, fitter and more muscular than the average (SAS) trooper. And biggest of all was a giant sergeant-major, who must have topped six feet by several inches. There were plenty of flat noses and thick ears among the party, and though at this moment they were cheerful, boisterous, and certainly anything but aggressive, there was something in their manner which said they could be rough boys if driven to it. About half were real commandos, officers and men of the recently-disbanded Middle East Commando unit. They had been transferred into another irregular force upon disbandment, the Special Services – or S.S., to give it its more usual and sinister abbreviation. The S.S. had been formed for special desert duties, for which the former Middle East Commandos were excellent material.
‘Almost immediately upon joining the 1st S.S. Squadron, there had been a call for volunteers for a special operation. Out of the whole Squadron which had immediately stepped forward, thirty-eight NCOs and men and seven officers had been chosen.
‘A squadron sergeant-major from The Leicesters was with the expedition. He was the biggest man in the commando; a rather grim, purposeful man named Swinburn. He was a disciplinarian who plainly was not happy at first at the casual camaraderie between the unshaven commando officers and men, but in time he seemed to accept things and became very popular all round…
‘Swinburn was another cool customer, reacting with calmness to any tight situations; his strength was loyalty – to his officers and men, and to his beloved Leicestershire Regiment. Yet even the seeming stiff-backed, rigid disciplinarian of a sergeant-major had his softer side, his men were to discover. He held a modest fancy for himself – as a trombonist.’

[After the S.S. commando had infiltrated the perimeter of Tobruk by night, dressed as Italians and in the 3-ton trucks, they set out on their tasks, neutralizing the defending enemy troops and seeking to secure various landing points to the south of the Tobruk Harbour entrance through which the seaborne assault force (RMs, the Argylls and the RNF MG troops) could land and proceed to attack their objectives. The surprise achieved was eventually nullified, many elements of the plan did not work out properly, not least the sea landings taking place at the wrong locations. There were very many casualties on the British side, including among Swinburn’s commando, most of whose officers were put out of action. Eventually a small party, now commanded by Swinburn, with no way of escape by sea or land, took up a ‘last ditch’ defensive position] ‘ The commandos put up a heavy fire and held back the enemy while some of their number made a double-strength sangar between some metal sheds. The sergeant-major and eighteen men went into the sangar, and eight men took over the sandbagged porch of the Italian house.
‘It was curious . . . interesting . . . the mood of the last commandos. They were certain they were going to die. That was why they fought on, to live another few minutes, to see the world for a little while longer. But curiously their nearness to death was in no way terrifying to them. On the contrary it seemed to exhilarate them, to affect them almost as alcohol might have done. They were lying across each other to fire, because there was little space behind the sandbags, and they were talking and joking, lighting cigarettes for each other, and all the time taking deadly toll of the advancing Italians and Germans.
‘Some enemy infantry were behind cover no more than fifty yards away, and the commandos never missed when they saw a target at that range. Someone said, “This is better than Butlin’s.” Billy might have been surprised at the comment.
‘They had tried to clear away the too-near enemy by throwing grenades, but they had failed to clear a ridge and the bombs had started to roll back upon the defenders before exploding. It was getting their own back with vengeance, and the commandos soon stopped throwing grenades. Big Swinburn took a hand then. It was all heroically foolish and reckless, but that was their mood at the moment. The hell with risk, in a minute they were going to die!
‘Lying on his side behind the sandbags, a commando held wide the neck of a sandbag. Swinburn swiftly drew pins from two Mills bombs and dropped them in the sack. Almost in the same second the big sergeant-major leapt to his feet, whirling the sandbag round his head and then flinging it over the ridge. The extra leverage gave him the distance and the bombs went off where the thrower had planned. Swinburn should never have lived to do that twice, and was a bold man to try it again. He did it several times, though, and each time by a miracle escaped injury. The sacks of grenades cleared the ridge, bucked up the com¬mandos by doing so, and no doubt did Swinburn a bit of good, too.
‘It was senseless resistance. There could only be one end to it. But they didn't fancy the end and were determined to hold the fort while ever they had ammunition. One trouble was that the commando's arms were mostly unsuitable. Few had brought rifles with them, and more than anything rifles were needed now. Tommy-guns hadn't the range and were forever sticking. Armourer Sergeant Alford mended two tommies when the fire was at its hottest, but they were of little value for sniping warfare.
‘Then a machine gun opened up on the sangar from a good position and their shallow sandbag defence fairly danced under the heavy lead. Swinburn decided to put an end to that, too. He knelt, Bren gun against his hip, and fired back. The enemy machine-gun fire ceased and Swinburn dropped quickly down into cover. He should have been dead again, but for some reason wasn't. He was an inspiration to his men, the calmest, seemingly most unruffled man among them. If he was worried about the next moments, he failed to show it, and because of his courage his men reacted similarly. While he fought, so would they. But it couldn't go on much longer. They had only survived so long against such opposition by a miracle as it was.
‘All at once they realized that the Italian house behind them had been captured and with it the eight defenders on the sandbagged porch. Now they were on their own in the sangar between the tin huts. A German potato masher (mortar) had them nicely ranged, too. A bomb crashed through the roof of the shed to the rear of the sangar. Another blew up right in front of their sandbags. If either had landed within the sandbag ring, it would have been all over for the lot of them.
‘Apparently other Germans had moved into a good position, for suddenly a German stick bomb came floating through the air and landed against Private MacKay's left foot. He was wedged on his side, unable to move, so he shut his eyes and wondered what it would be like to be without a foot. The bomb exploded. That was all there was to it. An explosion and no one was hurt, and MacKay still had his foot. But everyone was past marvelling at the freak results from explosives.
‘Their fire had almost ended. Most had no more than two or three rounds left for their guns. Swinburn realized that all faces were turning to look at him – sweat-stained, bearded faces, faces drained of hope or any other human emotion.
‘They heard him say, abruptly, “All right, lads, that's enough. Pack it in now.” So they packed it in, just lying besides their useless weapons and wondering what was going to happen in the next minutes when the Italians got hold of them. By now the enemy must have found their dead.
‘They saw Swinburn roll over, very deliberate at the last. He was removing a shirt that was a long way from whiteness but was the best he could manage under the circumstances. Then he stood erect, and held the shirt above his head. To some of the men this was in itself an act of heroism. Swinburn had stood up while a hail of bullets poured across towards their sandbag ring, and that took guts. And again he was unharmed.
‘The firing stopped. To the men lying at the feet of their sergeant-major there was something uncanny about the silence after the constant, unceasing barrage of sound that had lasted for over fourteen hours now. They heard the final echoes go ringing among the barren rocks, and then, bone weary, they climbed to their feet beside Swinburn, their hands slowly lifting above their shoulders. This was the end. No getaway on a destroyer, after all. Not that they blamed the Navy. The Navy would have got through if there had been half a chance.
… It was a German who reached them first, another big officer. He looked very clean and soldierly, a handsome man, and he had been wounded. And his first words knocked the wind out of the taut, expectant commandos. Astonished, they heard in perfect English, “It was a very good fight. Congratulations.”’…
‘Big Swinburn was up for questioning, too. This was in another room. The Italians were puzzled, badly, puzzled. There was an incredible atmosphere of hysteria about the Italian HQ. They were quite certain that a big landing operation must be imminent, was bound to follow the night’s foray, and they were terrified at the thought. The thing that kept worrying them, though, was the presence of the trucks. “How did you get them ashore?”, they kept demanding. So in time, Swinburn, a naturally truthful man, told them. “We swam them in from Malta.”
‘The New Zealander, Bill MacDonald, saw Swinburn as he came out from interrogation. He came towards the Sergeant-Major. The room was full of prisoners, mostly men from HMS Sikh, but with a number of badly burned and injured Marines. Mac said, “I thought you were dead, Sergeant-Major.” ’

Date of Birth : Jan 1913

Place of Birth : Nottingham

Date of Death : 1993

Place of Death : Nottingham

Period of Service : 1928-58

Conflicts : Palestine, WW2

Places Served : Germany, India, England, Northern Ireland, Palestine, Middle East, Crete, Egypt, Libya, Greece