大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Nadine from the People's War team on behalf of Douglas Renwick. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Something was happening! That something began with the massive artillery barrage at El Alamein on 23rd October 1942. Dougie recalled, 鈥淭he ground actually trembled and the noise was deafening. 鈥� The Eight Army was finally on the offensive. From there it would be a matter of pushing the German army all the way back across North Africa. The assignment for Dougie鈥檚 radar unit was simple: go with the Eighth Army (the famed Desert Rats) and provide radar cover. Doing it was tougher. The hardships of Aden and Crete were little compared to the privations of the Western Desert. The heat and the sand made conditions appalling. They slept under their trucks. There was no time to consider even the smallest comforts. They moved with the Desert Rats. Indeed, initially the speed of the offensive was so fast that they never had time to set up. As they passed through Mersa Matruh and Tobruk there was even an occasion when the unit moved into a fabulous villa by the sea that had been abandoned by a wealthy Libyan family. That was living in style, no doubt about it but there was still the matter of the war to deal with. The next stop was Barce. Only there did they have time to set up and get operational. It was a good location for radar on the point of Cyrenaica looking out over the Med. Suddenly one day the cry came 鈥淕et Dougie! Get Dougie!鈥� He got there on the double. They were listening to a voice speaking in German. Dougie鈥檚 German came into its own. It was the commander of a German submarine in the Med. He was giving his bearings and other information. Dougie translated the message and his C.O. Wilf Taylor sent it back to Egypt. He never heard anything more about the incident but, as events would unfold, it became apparent that the episode had been noted in higher echelons. 鈥淵ou鈥檝e been summoned to Cairo,鈥� said his C.O. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e to report to RAF Headquarters at Greypillars.鈥� Once there he was told, 鈥淲e鈥檝e noted your abilities Renwick and we鈥檙e pleased with your work so we're putting you on special assignment.鈥� The work was hard. School in the morning took the form of language studies and how to look for all the little signs that might indicate a hostile agent or a German spy. Afternoons might hold some time off. Evenings were the time for work. It did at least offer some compensation by way of pleasant dining and dancing in high society. This meant smart civilian clothes. It meant eating in the finest restaurants, mixing in the most expensive clubs and dancing at the most exclusive ballrooms. Egypt and particularly Cairo offered a strange situation. Nazi agents were active and trying to pick up British secrets. Dougie was now to be involved in the bizarre world of counter-intelligence. He mingled with the fashionable and well-heeled elite of Egyptian society. As part of a team, Dougie was to mix with Cairo society and listen for 鈥榣oose talk鈥� as it was called. He also had to check that British officers hadn't had too much to drink and were engaging in loose talk. If so he had to tip off military police. However, it wasn鈥檛 to last for long. Back at Greypillars he was told, 鈥淭his work demands that you are an officer but we can鈥檛 give you a commission as you鈥檙e under 35 years of age. The only exception to that is flight crew so we鈥檙e afraid we鈥檒l have to let you return to your unit.鈥� That was the end of Dougie鈥檚 career in military intelligence, at least for the time being. He returned to Barce and rejoined his unit. There was time to rest up a little as British forces consolidated their position. German forces continued in full retreat and a counter offensive was never a threat. There were even times of enjoyment again. Horse riding with the Sinuzi Police was good fun. They were a police unit of Libyan tribesmen. They were a smart outfit and expert horsemen. Dougie, who was responsible for security on the unit, worked with the Sinuzi sergeant. He would recommend locals to do jobs in the camp and he and Dougie would check them out. He spoke great English and he and Dougie soon struck up a friendship. Dougie even learned to ride. He was able to get a horse from the Sinuzi Police stables and go riding along the beach. He persuaded Tilly to go out one day. It was his first and last ride! He ended up hanging on round the horse鈥檚 neck! Dougie got to go out on a two-day patrol into the desert with the Sinuzi sergeant and some of his men. In the desert, they happened on a Bedouin wedding and were invited to be special guests. That was a unique experience. There was great camaraderie among the lads on the unit and football matches on the desert sand were good fun. The camp was right by the beach and when these things were followed by a cool dip in the Med, life was bearable again. Personal water allowance was half a pint a day. Besides what you got to drink in the form of tea at mealtimes, this was all the water you got. The enemy had poisoned all the wells and water had to be brought in by tanker by the Royal Navy. Personal use included drinking water and water for shaving and brushing your teeth. 鈥淗alf a pint鈥�, Dougie mused, 鈥淚鈥檒l never take water for granted again.鈥� Soon the Desert Rats would resume their push westward. The El Alamein offensive and the Anglo/American offensive from Morocco in the west would push Rommel鈥檚 Afrika Korps out of North Africa and Axis forces would flee to Italy. They would be followed by Allied forces who would push them all the way back up through the Italian peninsula. Then the D-Day offensive would take over in western Europe and along with the Red Army in the east they would push the armies of the Third Reich all the way back to the heart of Germany and final defeat. After El Alamein, Winston Churchill put it this way, 鈥淭his is not the end, it is not even the beginning of the end, but it is perhaps the end of the beginning.鈥� History records that before El Alamein we knew nothing but defeat, after El Alamein we knew nothing but victory. Douglas Renwick knew both. He witnessed it all first hand. By this time, Dougie had four and a half year鈥檚 of experiences few would ever see let alone live to tell.

Barce was where Dougie took earache. The unit was so small they didn鈥檛 have a doctor but one of the lads, Hutchinson, served as a medical orderly. He told him, 鈥淵ou鈥檇 better get up to Benghazi and see an army doctor.鈥� He hitched a lift up to Benghazi where part of the Eighth Army was camped. 鈥淏een swimming in the Med?鈥� the doctor asked. 鈥淵es sir鈥� replied Dougie. 鈥淭hought so, that鈥檚 where lads pick up these infections,鈥� said the doc. He administered some treatment and said 鈥淪tay out of the water for a while and hang about here for a couple of days.鈥� When he saw the doctor again all the tents were coming down. 鈥淲hat鈥檚 happening?鈥� asked Dougie. 鈥淲e鈥檙e moving out to Italy,鈥� replied the doctor. 鈥淣ot me!鈥� said Dougie, 鈥淚鈥檓 off!鈥� He hitched a lift back to Barce to rejoin his unit.

Back with the unit at Barce, Dougie was in the shower one morning. The shower was an oil barrel with holes punched in the bottom. A mate had to stand on steps and pour the water into it. Another of his comrades came with word 鈥淵ou鈥檙e to report to the orderly room.鈥� 鈥淥kay鈥� Dougie said and made ready. Once there, straight away and right out of the blue an adjutant announced, 鈥淵ou鈥檙e to report back to Cairo, you鈥檙e going home.鈥� 鈥淗ow will I get there?鈥� asked Dougie. The adjutant responded, 鈥淭hat鈥檚 up to you, there are supply convoys on the road back to Tobruk every day. Trains are running again from there to Cairo.鈥� Galashiels, Carlisle, Padgate, Cape Town, Aden, Crete, Cairo, Palestine and Tobruk all flashed through his mind. Dougie had done four and a half years overseas, more than that required. The other lads on the unit had come out after him and would go on to Tripoli and Tunis but for him the war was over. He hitchhiked back to Tobruk. It was hot, dry and dusty. He struggled with two kitbags, a respirator, two side packs, a blanket and groundsheet. The train back to Cairo was easier but long. The whole journey took him three days. At Cairo he was told, 鈥淵ou鈥檙e going back on the Athlone Castle, report to Alexandria.鈥� "Home," he thought, he鈥檇 almost forgotten what it was like. He had little time to prepare and the first thing on his mind was hand-knitted socks! The socks and the letters that accompanied them had come from a girl living near Edinburgh, Scotland. He had to tell her the news. Her name was Helen Muir and her wartime contribution was via the Land Army. She lived with her parents near Colinton where her father was a reservoir keeper. When the time came to sail, Dougie was able to go home the short way. He boarded the Athlone Castle again but this time she had been converted to a troop ship. No luxury this time but at least it would be a shorter voyage, ten days instead of ten weeks. The Med was open and they sailed past Malta, the George Cross island and the Royal Navy base at Gibralter, out into the Atlantic and on to England. Back in Liverpool, Dougie was given new uniform and kit and month鈥檚 leave. He let Helen know and they arranged to meet on the platform of Waverly Station in Edinburgh. 鈥淚鈥檒l be in RAF uniform, how will I know you?鈥� he wrote. 鈥淵ou鈥檒l know me,鈥� she wrote back, 鈥淚鈥檓 tall with dark hair and I鈥檒l be wearing a long grey coat with a green scarf and a flower in my lapel.鈥� As the steam from the locomotive cleared, there she was waiting at the gate. It was December 1944 and Douglas was home.

Post Script
But the war was not done with him yet. After his leave, he was told to report to Princes Gate Court Hotel, Exhibition Road, London. 鈥淩enwick, we鈥檝e got a job for you.鈥� He was to be pressed into service once more with the Special Investigation Branch on military intelligence. 鈥淚nteresting鈥� he thought, 鈥淲onder what they鈥檝e got in mind?鈥� 鈥淵ou鈥檙e a Jock aren鈥檛 you?鈥� they asked. 鈥淵es,鈥� he replied. Right, we鈥檙e sending you to Edinburgh. Got somewhere to stay up there?鈥� 鈥淵es, no problem,鈥� he enthused. 鈥淥kay, report to Squadron Leader Scott at Douglas Gardens.鈥� Once there, the first thing he was told to do was "Get some civvy clothes." He was able to go to Austin Reed in Princes Street and pick up some good stuff including a nice suit and overcoat. By that time, he was a sergeant and was part of a six-man team. They did investigative work all over Scotland. He worked with two other lads, Bob Prentice and Bill Dacres. They investigated everything from theft from civilian homes at RAF Turnberry, near Ayr to the disappearance of food supplies from the kitchen at RAF Lossiemouth near Inverness to pick-pocketing at RAF Sumburgh on Shetland. Squadron Leader Scott, a barrister by profession, worked alone on the bigger stuff. He was investigating why the surface of the runway at RAF Prestwick was breaking up. Clearly, there was some defect but who was responsible for it? After a six-week investigation, flying down to London several times he got back to the office in Edinburgh, threw down his file and slumped into a chair. He was exhausted and dispirited. 鈥淲hat鈥檚 up?鈥� the other lads asked. He said "I just got called into the office of an air vice-marshal in London". 鈥淵ou鈥檙e from Scotland aren鈥檛 you Scott?鈥� 鈥淵es Sir鈥� Do you golf, fish?鈥� 鈥淵es Sir鈥� 鈥淪ome nice golf courses up there, good fishing?鈥� 鈥淵es Sir鈥� 鈥淚 want you to take a month off - play some golf, do some fishing, relax and drop this case.鈥� 鈥淏ut Sir...鈥� 鈥淒rop it Scott, that鈥檚 an order, unless you want both of us to lose our jobs!鈥� The runway at Prestwick had been laid by Wimpey. Wimpey was an acronym made up of names of the directors. The 鈥淲鈥� stood for Winston! They could hardly prosecute the Prime Minister! The lads sympathised.
It was then Dougie was called to London and the offer came in, 鈥淗ow about going to Germany with the SIB? We鈥檒l give you a commission so you鈥檒l go as an officer.鈥� 鈥淕alashiels, Carlisle, Padgate, Cape Town, Aden, Crete, Cairo, Palestine and Tobruk鈥� flashed through his mind once again but he didn鈥檛 have to think twice. 鈥淣o thanks, I was away from home for four and a half years, I鈥檓 ready to get married and settle down" and he did. It was 30th April 1946.
His new family was that of Anthony and Helen Muir. Tony was a reservoir keeper at Torduff, in the Pentland Hills just south of Edinburgh. On June 26th, 1948, John Douglas Renwick and their daughter, Helen Pennycook Muir were married in Colinton Parish Church, Edinburgh. Two years later, I came along. I鈥檓 their son, John Renwick, one of the next generation, grateful to Dad's generation for the sacrifice that gave us our heritage of freedom.
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