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Groups and Single Decorations for Gallantry


It was most galling, and pulling up to a halt we jumped out to inspect the flat tyre. It looked like a long delay, but to our surprise another jeep came driving along the track in the opposite direction. It stopped, and after a brief explanation I transferred my equipment - leaving Shaw to mend the puncture - and set off once more towards the scene of the previous day's activities. After a while we caught up with the leading jeep and followed it for some distance before it drew off the track towards a small cluster of scrub. Here, lying in the scanty shade, was Dawson, his healthy bronzed features belying the real gravity of his condition.


"I'm sorry to have given you so much trouble, sir," he said with a forced grin. Could any words be more typical of the fortitude of these men? I wondered, as I made up the pentothal solution. Could anything more nearly express their spirit?


Without disturbing him, we injected the anaesthetic, and he sank back into his first sleep for over forty-eight hours. Examination of his wounds showed that it was necessary to drain the bladder at once; a catheter could not be passed so that an abdominal incision was unavoidable. It was not a pleasant procedure when one considered the lack of sterility of the conditions under which we were working. However, there was no other course open to us; and as we were proceeding with the operation the familiar drone of an aeroplane came to our ears and soon afterwards an Italian bomber flew overhead, describing large circles as it followed the track towards our rendezvous. We stopped our work until it had passed over. About five minutes later another plane followed the first. So they were after us again! Once or twice we were obliged to throw a blanket over Dawson and crawl across to some adjoining bushes, for groups of men were too easily distinguished at that height. Fortunately the job did not take long, and, by attaching a clasp-knife over the catheter outlet, we were able to ensure slow drainage. As I clamped the knife over the tube I was reminded of the serene words of wisdom that we used to hear as students on the ward rounds, of the surgeon lolling back in complacent self-satisfaction, and of ourselves as we stood round the foot of the bed wondering who was going to be asked the next question. No cool green wards now; no tidy white coats; no trim nurses to bear one attendance. Only the green-brown hills shuddering in the heat haze; only the hot blue of the sky and the white of the rocks; only the thin trickles of sweat running down our foreheads and flanks.


We loaded Dawson on to the jeep; laying him crosswise on top of a camouflage net, and then started to drive back slowly towards the rendezvous. A moment later and we had been forced to move hurriedly from the track and take cover from an aircraft which was following the same course. After two minutes' grace we made another effort, but again we had to chase back towards the sparse bushes. We gave it up. Aircraft were flying over every other minute, all leading towards the same quarter. From the direction of our rendezvous came the familiar sad sound of bombing and machine-gunning, and looking in that direction we could see a thin dark column of smoke rise lazily heavenward. Through the glasses there was no difficulty in distinguishing the planes as they circled and dived in rotation. Soon another coil of smoke had wreathed up beside its fellow; we judged our petrol supplies had been hit. Thus it continued throughout the afternoon, with all types of aircraft flying towards those tell-tale pillars of smoke. What could we do? Plainly it was impossible to move down the track; yet it was dreadful to have to remain here as helpless spectators. Some of the planes were flying very low and every now and then we would have to hide amongst the scrub. Dawson, at any rate, was happily unconscious of the whole affair; lying under a small bush he looked as if he would sleep for a century. After a time I began to give up the thought of getting back by jeep. I considered the possibility of walking; but it was ten miles to go, and with a monkey-box to carry I would not arrive before sundown. I resigned myself to the wait. There was a little water and a piece of cheese in the jeep; we devoured the latter hungrily; it tasted wonderful and there was just enough to make our mouths water. Meals were becoming irregular, we remarked, as we lit cigarettes and scanned the skyline once more.


Towards sundown the planes became less frequent, and judging that it was worth our while to try and move, we set off towards the rendezvous. The jolting motion of the jeep woke up Dawson whose dazed movements threatened to unbalance him and spill him off; it took us a little while to quieten him down. On our way we came upon another jeep, and wishing to get back more quickly I changed my transport. The western sky was a smouldering flame as we rattled busily along the rough surface, and I can picture one lone plane flying slowly back towards Benghazi. To me, at that moment, it seemed that the silhouette of the plane against the sunset glow epitomised our whole suffering and day's travail. The next instant and it was lost against a darker streak of sky. Then came the glimmer of dusk, the uncertainty and haziness of outlines; it was harder now to follow the track, and by the time we had reached the rendezvous the fires of the burning jeeps and lorries had already begun to stand out clear and red against the gathering darkness.’


Pleydell was quickly back at work, treating further casualties caused by enemy aircraft at ‘X’ patrol’s rendezvous.


Of the wounded, the four most serious cases - including Drongin - were taken by a volunteer, accompanied by an Italian P.O.W., under the Red Cross, to Benghazi, in the hope of finding them urgent medical care. Sadly none of them survived and although buried in a marked grave at Sidi Moies on, or about, 19 September 1942, that grave was subsequently lost. Drongin is commemorated on the Alamein Memorial.


Sold with an original photograph of ‘Sergeant A. Drongin’s Squad, Scots Guards, Oct. 1939’, mounted on captioned card, together with an Educational Training Booklet (1931), a Programme for the Presentation of Colours by H.M. the King on 16 July 1936, and a drill booklet (1939); so, too, with a large file of research, including a quantity of original letters from ex-members of ‘L’ Detachment, S.A.S.


Francis Zigmund Drongin, Anthony’s brother, was born at Dalzell, Motherwell, Lanarkshire in August 1921 and enlisted in the Royal Engineers in January 1937.


Embarked for the Middle East in October 1940, he was posted to No. 12 Field Company, R.E. in January 1941, in which unit he won his M.M. (London Gazette on 24 February 1942).


The original recommendation - submitted by Lieutenant-Colonel E. A. Arderne, O.B.E., C.O. of 1st Battalion, Durham Light Infantry - states:


‘At Tobruk on the night of 9-10 November 1941, Sapper Drongin accompanied ‘D’ Company, 1st Durham Light Infantry on a night raid on the enemy strong point of ‘Plonk’. Sapper Drongin showed great bravery in going forward under heavy fire to open a gap in the enemy wire. Although his duty had been completed he remained behind with the Company and after the order for withdrawal had been given he remained behind and assisted in the removal of wounded men. He formed one of the party who remained behind in No Man’s Land and looked after the wounded till he was found later by our patrols.’


Drongin departed the Middle East for India in early 1942 where, in the fullness of time, he was attached to H.Q., 77th Infantry Brigade. Commanded by Brigadier “Mad Mike” Calvert, the Brigade went into action during Wingate’s second Chindit operation in March 1944, taking up positions at “White City” behind enemy lines in Burma. It was here that Drongin died of wounds on 10 April 1944. He was buried in Taukkyan War Cemetery.


Drongin’s father received his son’s M.M. at a Buckingham Palace investiture held in December 1945; sold with a quantity of copied photographs, including portraits of both brothers.


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