The Patrol
(40 Commando Malaya 1951)
By James Robinson ex Royal Marine 1947 to 1971

There was no shortage of volunteers when the call came to carry out an ambush on a Chinese Communist guerrilla gang that had been seen in the area. This gang operated near the Thailand border, taking refuge in that country in times of stress. As we made our way to the appointed ambush position near a deserted Malay /Chinese village, the jungle tracks had become overgrown and had developed back into primary jungle with the vegetation being difficult to penetrate at times. Swamps, mosquito’s, leeches, and shattering heat made our lives very difficult. The patrol, half section strength of about ten men, carried full packs with a couple of day’s rations and ammunition. The object was to conceal us on both sides of the deserted village in positions covering the track in and out of the village.

With the aid of the Iban tracker we had managed to cover some 15 miles from the main Baling-Grik road to reach the ambush position before dusk. No cooking, smoking and definitely no talking were the orders as we settled into our positions for the night. Communication was by string attached to each person in the positions and two tugs on the string was the alert signal. The weapons we carried were the No 5 Jungle Rifles, Bren guns, the Australian Owen submachine gun, and the silenced Lanchester 9mm Browning pistol. Each man with two bandoliers of fifty rounds of .303 each, the Bren gunner and his No 2 carried about 12 magazines between them, and with this formidable firepower we settled down to wait. With the darkness came the sounds of the jungle; the racket was incessant with the hum of mosquitoes and other insects, and the larger beasts crying, yelling and crashing about. After about five or six hours in the position my imagination took over. Did I see someone moving? With my eyes fixed on that one spot I eased the safety catch forward, placed the rifle into the shoulder, and took aim waiting for the next movement. Nothing stirred so I relaxed again.

I was dozing when my mate gave me a nudge. In the eerie light of dawn, down the track, I could see a light bobbing away in the distance. I gave a couple of tugs on the string. Hell, I thought, was I about to do my bit for King and Country? Once again, safety catch forward. I could hear the “snick” of the Bren being cocked. What would appear to be ghostly figures were moving towards the position and the leading figure stopped about fifteen to twenty yards away. The Bren gun came into action first; firing short bursts he caught the first CT in the chest. Then we all opened fire and in the fire fight that ensued three of the terrorists lay dead with the rest fleeing down the track. It was estimated to be a gang of about twenty and in the daylight, with the aid of the Iban tracker, we followed the trail of blood and abandoned equipment. This meant that we had to move very warily as it was sometimes known for the CT’s to turn and ambush their pursuers.

After about three or four hours the trail was lost and we returned to our positions to pick up the dead CT’s and take them back for identification. Previously, only certain parts of the body were carried back but owing to a photograph of a Marine holding up a head appearing in a certain Sunday Newspaper, this practice was discontinued. The Yomp back to the main road had taken us longer to get back to the camp because of the bodies being carried. A rest and some cooked food soon put the smile back on our faces. So another day in the life of a Young Marine.
 

This picture of me was taken while I was in Malaya. My service in the Royal Marines started in April of 1947 and I went on pension June 1971. I joined HM Prison Service, serving at Dartmoor, Exeter, and the Maze Prison in Northern Ireland. I'm now retired and studying military history.  James Robinson June 2000