Dangerous Frontiers

Campaigning in Somaliland & Oman

Bryan Ray

• Publisher: Pen & Sword Military
• Year: 2008
• ISBN:
  9781781597699
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Modern History
• Index: History

In Part 1 of his book the author describes his life as a young officer in the Somaliland Scouts in the (then) British Protectorate of Somaliland. At that time tribal quarrels, generally over water, were taking place in the troubled strip of country between the Protectorate and Ethiopia; the Ogaden. It was the Scouts' difficult task to keep the warring clansmen apart. It gives a vivid account of a nineteen-year-old in command of Somali troops in a fascinating and unpredictable country.The second part of the book deals with the Author's second period of service with Muslims, a quarter of a century later. This time in the Southern Province of Oman—Dhofar. Here he commanded the Northern Frontier Regiment of the Sultan's Armed Force in a limited but fierce war against Communist Insurgents. It shows how the tide was turned against a brave enemy fighting on their home ground—the savage wadis and cliffs of the jebel.Dangerous Frontiers will appeal to a wide audience, including those interesting in military and world history and in those two little known areas—the Horn of Africa and Southern Oman. In both campaigns it reflects the mutual liking and respect that the handful of British officers had for their Muslim soldiers and the soldiers for their leaders. It is written with humor and an understanding of other cultures.

PART I

Somaliland 1948–1950

Chapter 1

Awareh

‘The last time your tribe – the Dhulbahante – ate a man was only twenty years ago,’ said the soldier Hassan Haji lying in his blanket by the flickering fire.

‘Liar!’ shrilled the smaller blanketed bundle, Suliban Ahamed. ‘Liar! Like all your clan. It was the Esa who ate that man.’

‘Dhulbahante,’ replied Hassan, flatly. ‘Everyone knows.’

I sat up and scratched my dusty hair. I was weary of the story. Every night Hassan teased Suliban spitefully with a reference to it and every night Suliban faithfully leapt at the lure – to Hassan’s huge satisfaction.

‘Shut up both of you – and let’s get some sleep’.

We had been patrolling on foot for two days and had covered 40 or so miles, showing the tribes that the soldiers were ready to intervene in any fighting over the dwindling wells – fighting which, despite our efforts, all too often flared up. Our task was made more difficult because of controversy over frontier lines.

Boundary disputes are notoriously complicated, but those concerning the parched wedge of semi-desert and thorn scrub lying on Ethiopia’s eastern frontier with Somalia are especially intricate. The Ogaden (see map) is roughly triangular in shape and, although falling within Ethiopia, it is peopled by Somali-speaking nomads who recognize no boundaries other than the limits of their ancient grazing lands. A welter of treaties, agreements and grazing rights signed among Britain, Ethiopia, Italy and Somalia since 1894 have resulted in frontier lines on maps, which are either straight, or follow some well-defined geographical feature – but certainly pay scant regard to tribal movements.

The northern third of this wedge is known as the Haud, a plateau rising to an average height of around 4,500 feet. It is partly waterless rolling plain but where there is permanent water the vegetation is dense – thick bush, with acacia, juniper and fig trees. It is also one of the four areas in the world where frankincense trees are found. In the Ogaden itself there are a few good permanent waterholes.

Grazing is good after the spring and autumn rains, and the Somali tribes, numbering up to 3,000 nomads, herding their camels, goats and sheep, move in from the north and east. Some of these later move on south to the Ogaden wells under a reciprocal arrangement with the Ogaden tribesmen, who wish to export their stock through the Northern Somalia port of Berbera on the Gulf of Aden.

Whilst the grazing is rich and the levels in the wells high, the Somali warriors mix happily with the clansmen of the Ogaden. The age-old camel-watering songs of the Habr Yonis, the Aidagallah and the Arab tribes can be heard at the wells of Awareh, Mil-Mil, Danot and Wal-Wal as they have been heard down the centuries.

They (the camels) are all here, ready,

They belong to us.

How splendid and useful they are

And they are standing ready.

I set my foot (on the well),

Oh Master of the World,

Oh God the Just make our task easy.

You will be cooled

Come forward slowly

Put your mouth to it with blessing,

it is devoid of evil.

Your shrivelled bones

are now moist and full again.

When they are standing ready,

and the clansmen are all present,

none must leave till all are watered.*

After the rains, as the grazing withers and as the surface water in the Haud dries under the impact of the searing sun, the tempers of the tribesmen rise – rise, it seems, in inverse proportion to the sinking of the levels in the Ogaden wells. Inevitably and annually the quarrelling begins – fuelled by now-remembered insults and jealousies, woundings and killings from the past. Camels are looted and the fighting starts, small in scale at first, but later involving whole rers, or tribal sections.

In the days following the Second World War, and before Somali independence, the Haud was administered by Britain, before being returned to Ethiopia in 1955. A District Commissioner, answerable to the Governor of British Somaliland in Hargeisa, listened wearily to the many complaints of murder, camel looting and tribal squabbles, and despatched his illaloes to bring in offenders, collect taxes and seize camels as appropriate. If the fighting escalated and things became tense he could call on the company of Somaliland Scouts stationed in the Haud to help keep the peace.

Peace in the early 1900s had been harder to keep, mainly due to the activities of the followers of one who aspired to become the Mahdi of Somaliland, Mohammed bin Abdullah Hasan (known to the British as the ‘Mad Mullah’). He fought the British for twenty-one years and was a formidable and cruel adversary.

In 1900 the Somali Levy was raised, strengthened by Indian troops, the first locally raised unit to campaign against the Mullah. Later the Levy was designated 6th Battalion King’s African Rifles, but was disbanded when the British administration withdrew to the coast at Berbera. However, the Mullah raided Berbera and the administration realized that to defend the area they needed to occupy the hinterland. A Camel Corps Constabulary was therefore raised in 1912 commanded by Richard Corfield, a political officer who had a military second in command, Lieutenant Gibb. The Camel Corps fought well and successfully against the Mullah but suffered a heavy defeat in August 1913 when Corfield and thirty-five of the Corps were killed. It was decided to convert the Corps to a military unit and this was raised in 1914. Included among the British officers seconded to the new Corps were one Captain Ismay of the Indian Army, later General Lord Ismay, and one Captain Carton de Wiart of the 4th Dragoon Guards, later Lieutenent General Sir Adrian Carton de Wiart VC.

Much later the Camel Corps fought under the British flag against the Italians in the Horn of Africa. During this campaign Captain Wilson of the East Surrey Regiment, seconded to the Corps, was awarded the VC. The end of the Camel Corps was a sad one, however. On the night of 5 June 1944, just after the Corps had been converted to armoured cars, and before departing on active service, the volatile and sensitive Muslim soldiers mutinied against their British officers. The Camel Corps askaris were disarmed, disbanded and told to go home – a dishonourable end for a brave force.

A year earlier a number of Somali infantry companies, which had originally been raised to blockade pro-Vichy French Somaliland, had been organized into a battalion and designated ‘Somaliland Scouts’. After the War the Scouts, with the Camel Corps gone, were the sole remaining unit left to garrison the Protectorate as foot soldiers – not camel-borne – with British Army trucks to cover the dusty tracks. It is a curious thing that, although officially no Camel Corps trooper was to be enlisted in the Scouts, the foot drill and bearing of many a potential recruit was of a remarkably high standard.

‘T’isn’t my fault if I dress when I ‘alt – I’m back to the Army again!* In the autumn of 1948 the company of Somali Scouts on detachment in the Haud was D Company, of which I was a member. We were based at Awareh, one of the few watering places and therefore an important centre and confluence of camel trails.

Awareh Camp was well laid out and about half a mile from the magalla (town) and wells. It was tented, the askaris (soldiers) living in ‘180 pounders’, eight to a tent, and there were four bigger marquee-style tents, three for the officers living quarters and a larger one for the officers’ mess. Neat rows of whitewashed stones demarked the soldiers’ lines, the motor transport and petrol areas, the compounds for the officers’ ponies and the burden camels, and the parade square. The whole camp was surrounded by a zariba (thorn fence) to keep out unfriendly nocturnal visitors – both human and animal. About a quarter of a mile away was a smaller zariba containing 200 or so camels which had been seized by the Scouts from time to time as fines on the tribes for camel looting or fighting.

In a small compound close by, the District Commissioner (DC) lived and held court. With him in his mud-brick house he kept a sensuous and beautiful Somali woman as housekeeper, an arrangement that would, no doubt, lessen the force of his argument with the tribal chiefs – especially those of the woman’s clan.

What sort of people were administered by the DC? The Somalis are a strikingly handsome race, the men being tall and lean with well-defined features betraying their Galla extraction. Many are up to 6 feet and the young warriors appear even taller as they grow their hair long and dye the ends with henna. At the time I was there they wore a one-piece robe often dyed ochre, and carried at least one spear, with sometimes a selection to include weapons for stabbing and others for throwing. Some tribes – like the Esa and Gadurbursi – also carried round leather shields and huge curved knives called bulahwis which were used to disembowel, very messily, their opponents. The Esa warriors filed their teeth to sharp points and in addition to their deadly proficiency with the spear were skilled in the use of a sling as a weapon. These they wore wound round their heads, forcing the shock of hair even taller.

The Somalis are natural warriors and love fighting; they are fiercely brave and do not fear death. When wounded they rarely whimper but accept their fate because ‘God, who is generous, wills it.’ They love intrigue and can be devious in the extreme, yet they have poetry deep in their souls and Somali verse is hauntingly beautiful and evocative, speaking of war, love and camels.

Somali women are renowned for their beauty of features and graceful carriage; they are straight backed and slim, with classically fine features. Yet the lot of the Somali woman was, and in many cases still is, cruel and hard. As a young girl her genitals are partially sewn up so that her eventual husband is guaranteed a virgin. It is his job to ‘open’ his bride with his knife, thus ensuring a ghastly wedding night for her that could reduce her enjoyment of the sexual act thereafter. Like many nomads they age rapidly, their once taut breasts sagging and their voices sharpening. In common with some other Muslim races, however, Somali women, although apparently totally subordinate to the male, are in reality often the power – and certainly the voice – behind the scenes. The ancient harridan tottering in her rags on crabby feet behind the camel train – who eventually must drop to die in the dust – wields power in her tribe. Having dropped, that same woman will be left until a halt is made at nightfall. One or two men will take a camel from the hobbled herd and retrace the weary miles to collect her light corpse and, having loaded it on the beast, return to the sleeping camp. In death, she rides a camel to her destiny – two rough stones in a parched wilderness, one at her head and one at her feet.

But we must return to D Company sitting in the sand in Awareh in 1948, close to the DC reaching for his whisky brought to him by his Somali beauty, all wondering when the tribes would fight.

From my point of view I found life remarkably pleasant. I liked and respected my Somali soldiers and was fascinated by the lifestyle of the nomads. Add to that the fact that I enjoyed the heat, the country was teeming with game and I was nineteen years old, and it can be seen why I was not complaining. Even as a very impoverished subaltern, my personal staff in those days was impressive. It was headed by Mohammed Usuf, my bearer, known as ‘Little Ears’ for obvious reasons; unfortunately, as I was to discover, there was very little between those ears! A ‘chokra’* Suliban Ahamed, aged twelve, who nominally assisted Mohammed, but in effect ran derisive rings round him. Suliban cooked for me when I was away from the Company. My soldier orderly was Hassan Haji, a handsome man and a good tracker and hunter; he was proud, and a great womanizer. Lastly, Abdi Farah, another soldier (ex-Camel Corps) who was my syce. Abdi, who was forty years old and lived for horses, looked after my grey pony, Borro, and also helped me buy a spirited chestnut stallion from the Jibril Aboker tribe. He was as upset as I was when it later died of horse sickness. (The Jibril Aboker are famous for their horse breeding and dealing – had they detected a sickness in the fleet and beautiful Saharadide which prompted a hasty sale? It was more than possible). Abdi was my principal friend in Somaliland and we exchanged letters for years after I had left.

In early September, when D Company arrived in Awareh from Hargeisa the capital, the wells were full and many hundreds of camels watered there daily. There was plenty for all and it was sufficient to keep an eye on things during our early morning or evening rides, and by the occasional ‘flag’ patrol by a platoon of Scouts.* We spent the mornings training and improving the soldiers’ infantry skills; more often than not a shooting party went out in the afternoon. Although we had our own herd of Somali fat-tailed sheep we relieved this diet with guinea fowl or venison. The long-necked Gerenuk gazelle abounded, as did Spekes and Sommerings gazelle, oryx and greater kudu. The rabbit-sized dik-dik – smallest of all the deer – thrived and was a favourite addition to the soldiers’ stew. (Even such a minute specimen had to have its throat cut like all other game in order to be Hilal and fit for Muslims to eat.)

Towards the end of September, however, the odd inter-tribal squabble had already broken out, and while the situation was generally calm, all the indications were that the tribal temperatures were going up. As expected the DC issued an order forbidding the carrying of spears in the magalla at Awareh or by the wells, and asked for a platoon of D Company to be detached to Mil-Mil 20 miles away. This was a sensitive spot which commanded the routes into the Ogaden and through to Ethiopia. He and Reay Girdwood, D Company Commander, then went into a huddle over a bottle of gin and emerged with a PLAN. The detachment at Mil-Mil would remain while the bulk of the Company would stay quite properly at Awareh wells – but a platoon would move further south to Danot on the boundary of the Haud with the Ethiopian administered Ogaden. Another junction of camel trails, Danot had fairly permanent water and had been the scene of recent and increasing inter-tribal murders and fights.

Returning unsteadily from the DC’s camp – legs working busily without disturbing or creasing in any way his enormous starched shorts – Reay explained the new deployment to Nick Cochrane, the other British officer in the Company, and myself. I was to take 4 Platoon to Danot with a Signals and MT detachment. Having set up a camp near the wells, I was to patrol vigorously and show the flag. Any tribal fighting or camel raiding was to be investigated immediately, but the District Commissioner must be kept fully in the picture by radio; his approval would be needed before any punitive measures were taken.

I liked the sound of it all very much indeed. ‘There is no doubt,’ said Reay, reaching for the gin, ‘that we ought to have a drink, as we won’t be together as a company again for a bit’.

* Andrzejewski, B.W. and Lewis, I.M., ‘Camel Watering Chant’ (Anonymous), Somali Poetry.

* Rudyard Kipling, ‘Back to the army again’.

* Bearer’s assistant.

* i.e. Showing the flag. A body of armed soldiers to show military strength and discourage trouble

Chapter 2

Danot

We left Awareh for Danot in the morning of 24 September 1948, about twenty-eight of us in all. We rode in a 15cwt Bedford truck and two 3-ton trucks tightly jammed with askaris and their kit, plus a small flock of fat-tailed sheep for our fresh rations. The Somalis...

Table of contents

• Front Cover
• Dedication
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• Maps
• List of Plates
• Preface
• Acknowledgements
• Part I – Somaliland 1948–1950
• Interlude
• Part II – Oman 1972–1974
• Epilogue
• Appendix 1 - An English Translation of the Speech Broadcast over Radio Oman by His Majesty Sultan Qaboos bin Said on 28 May 1972
• Appendix 2 - Enemy Tactics in Dhofar
• Glossary