rumours are based on fact. Nevertheless, he may not thank me for this kind of proposal. A lot of risk involved, yes?’
‘It’s a safe bet for you, sir,’ Stirling said cleverly. ‘If things go wrong, the casualties will be few in number. If successful, they could change the course of the war in the desert and bring credit to all of us.’
Ritchie thought about it, then nodded in agreement. ‘All right, Lieutenant, I’ll bring the subject up with the C-in-C. If he’s interested I’ll show him your memorandum. You should hear from me within a matter of days. In the meantime, no more nonsense from you – such as this break-in. I’ll get a sentry to escort both you men out. Next time get a pass.’
‘Yes, sir!’ Stirling and Greaves said at once, with big, dopey grins.
The general picked up his phone and called for a guard. Five minutes later a triumphant Stirling and Greaves were being escorted out of MEHQ. As they passed through the main gates, the guard who had pursued them stepped out, grinning broadly, to hand Stirling his crutches.
‘Well done, sir,’ the guard said with a grin.
Stirling smiled back at him, put the crutches under his armpits, and waited patiently beside Greaves while the latter hailed a passing taxi.
‘Now we can only wait,’ Stirling said, ‘so let’s have a good time.’
Three days later, when Greaves and Stirling were beginning to feel more exhausted from having a good time than they ever had on an operation, Stirling received a call from the DCGS’s office, inviting him back to see General Ritchie.
While Stirling was at that meeting, Greaves enjoyed a long lunch with his attractive nurse, Frances, whom he had been wining, dining and bedding for the past two days and nights in his hotel. In fact, she had just left his room when Stirling turned up, flushed with excitement.
‘The meeting wasn’t just with General Ritchie,’ he told Greaves. ‘The C-in-C, General Auchinleck, was also there. So was the Chief of the General Staff.’
Greaves gave a low whistle of appreciation. ‘So, what transpired?’
‘Permission granted,’ Stirling said, ‘on the following conditions. I’ve just been promoted to captain. Five officers and sixty other ranks will be recruited. For the time being, we’ll recruit only from former Layforce men. We’ll train the men ourselves and prepare them for raids against five airfields Jerry is using as bases for his latest Me 109F fighters. Auchinleck felt that five-man teams are too awkward, so teams of four instead of five will be the operational basis of the raiding parties. Our parent body will be a non-existent Special Air Service Brigade, or L Detachment…’
‘Why “L”?’ Greaves interrupted.
Stirling’s grin was mischievous. ‘L for Learner. Anyway, that’s what we’re calling it: L Detachment, SAS Brigade. To Axis agents and others it should suggest that there are more than sixty-six parachutists in Egypt. Meanwhile, we can get on with the real business. Now let’s go and find some men.’
Jubilant, they embarked on a search of Cairo to find the men who would be the bedrock of L Detachment.
The first officer, Lieutenant William ‘Bill’ Bollington, they found immediately, in the bar of Shepheard’s Hotel, where Bollington was staying. A Gordon Highlander whose father and grandfather had been senior NCOs, he was instantly excited by the idea of a new raiding team and agreed to join them.
‘I strongly recommend Sergeant Ralph Lorrimer,’ he told them. ‘Dorset Regiment, but now with the LRDG. Apart from being a hell of an NCO in his own right, and an expert on the desert, he’d probably be your ticket to the LRDG. He’s also, incidentally, unbeatable with the Browning 12-gauge autoloader. A good man in a tight spot.’
‘Where will we find him?’
Lieutenant Bollington grinned and pointed down through his room window, in the direction of the Sharia il Berka. ‘Down there. He practically lives in Tiger Lil’s place. I think he keeps a room there.’
‘Very good,’ Stirling said. He and Greaves left the hotel and walked across to the notorious street of brothels. Tiger Lil’s was a gloomy, echoing barn of a place where the men queued up at the doors of the rooms, often peeping through keyholes to see how the first man was getting on and shouting words of encouragement: ‘Come on! Get on with it! We’re all waiting out here!’ Tiger Lil, the immense, good-natured madam, who was sitting behind the cash desk by the front door, told them the number of Lorrimer’s room. As they climbed the stairs, they came across many young girls, no more than eight or nine, who were running in and out of the rooms with towels, cleaning rags and bottles of Condy’s disinfectant.
When Stirling and Greaves reached the room which was, according to Tiger Lil, rented permanently by Lorrimer, Greaves hammered on the door with his fist and a gravelly male voice bid him enter. Doing so, he and Stirling found Sergeant Lorrimer, wearing his shirt and trousers, though bare-footed, stretched out on his bed, propped up slightly with pillows, reading the latest edition of The Strand.
Surprised to see two officers in his room, he slid his feet down to the floor and sat on the edge of his bed. He was of medium height, but broad-chested and muscular, with a handsome, world-weary face and a fearless, blue-eyed gaze.
‘Yes, sirs?’ he asked, clearly puzzled by their presence in his room.
Stirling introduced himself and Greaves, then explained why they had come. As soon as he had finished, Lorrimer agreed to join up.
‘Can you get us the cooperation of the LRDG?’ Stirling asked.
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Excellent. Please get in touch with them immediately, then contact me here.’ He scribbled his brother’s private phone number on a piece of paper and gave it to Lorrimer. ‘That’s where I’m staying while I’m in Cairo. Get in touch when you’ve fixed up a meeting with the LRDG. If it can’t be arranged immediately, fix it up for later.’ He was leaving the room with Greaves when the latter, unable to contain his curiosity, turned back and asked Lorrimer: ‘Do you rent this room on a full-time basis, Sergeant?’
Lorrimer nodded. ‘Only during my leave periods,’ he said. ‘I’m a married man with three kids and a healthy sexual appetite. This room’s cheaper than anything else I could hire and the girls are conveniently located. What more could a man want?’
‘You’re a man of initiative,’ Greaves replied. ‘I think we made the right choice. See you soon, Sergeant.’
Their next stop was the MP barracks at Bab el Hadid, where one of Greaves’s favourite men, Captain Patrick ‘Paddy’ Callaghan, No 3 Commando, was languishing in one of the cells, pending a court martial for knocking out his commanding officer. Formerly an Irish rugby international and accomplished boxer, Callaghan was normally an amiable, courteous man, but unfortunately he had a violent temper. Indeed, before actually striking his commanding officer, Callaghan had run him out of the officers’ mess at the point of a bayonet. He was, nevertheless, an exceptional soldier who had already been mentioned in dispatches for his bravery in action.
When Stirling and Greaves proposed that he avoid his pending court martial by joining their new unit, he said, ‘Why not? I’m going out of my mind with boredom here. Count me in, gentlemen.’
The rest of the main group had to be searched out across the
