Remarks by Graham Robinson on Sark, 21 May 2016

Many thanks to Eric for inviting me to speak this evening at the launch of his excellent book, Operation Basalt.

It’s a great pleasure for me to be here because, as Eric has said, my dad, Tim Robinson, was one of the Commandos involved in the raid.

However, what I would like to say is a bit about dad and who he was rather than talk about the operation itself.

What attracted dad to the Commandos in the first place? A number of things I’m sure but not least a youthful spirit of adventure – remember he was just about 21 when war broke out. Whilst perhaps it feels more than inappropriate to speak about adventure and excitement in the same breath as talking about a bloody and violent war, I’m sure that this will have been one of the factors that drew him to the Commandos and subsequently 2 SAS.

Dad was very much his own man with a lot of confidence in himself – he was athletic, loved football and was extremely competitive. The suggestion that he should volunteer for special operations would, I know, have been irresistible to him.

He hated the spit and polish of the regular soldier and all the bull that went with it. What he saw in the Commandos was an opportunity to get away from all that and to stand on his own two feet – to be in control of his own destiny as much as possible. When I asked him why he left the Berkshire Yeomanry to join something as dangerous as the Commandos he replied that he thought that if he stayed with the Yeomanry they would end up getting him killed – whereas in the Commandos he would have more say in how he did what he was ordered to do. Mind you, as he laughingly added, the Berkshire Yeomanry spent the whole of the war in Northern Ireland and saw no action at all!

Another fundamental reason why dad joined the Commandos was that he was asked to by a man that he admired and respected. Although not much older than dad, and from a very different social class, Philip Pinckney was a born leader who led from the front and himself was no respecter of army protocol. Pinckney, who came from Hungerford in Berkshire as did my father, had resigned his commission in the early years of the war, and enlisted in the Berkshire Yeomanry but on regaining his commission left to join E Troop 12 Commando taking men with him who he had got to know well – one of them was dad.

Dad pretty much hero worshipped Pinckney, as did many of those who served under him, and took part in several operations under his command. Pinckney also treated his men in a way other officers would not have thought acceptable but which helped form a very solid bond between them. For example

— Dad often got unofficial leave – accompanying Pinckney back to Hungerford in his car for a weekend to see his future wife.

— Dad took part in Operation Chess, a raid on the French Coast, even though he was on sick leave after having had his appendix out, because Pinckney called past his house in Hungerford and said “do you fancy a trip to France, Robinson?” An invitation that he couldn’t refuse!

Dad served with Pinckney until his death in Italy during Operation Speedwell in September 1943.

He always said that Pinckney was the bravest man he had met – in his eyes only Geoffrey Appleyard came close – in Dad’s words, he was a “man” and a gentleman – somewhat larger than life. For years after the war he said that he imagined that one day he would walk back through the door – it took a lot for him to believe that he was dead.

So, as young children, we were raised on stories of dad’s exploits and those of Captain Pinckney and his comrades but, in our youth, we only got to hear the humorous parts of operations he was involved in – things that he thought might be fit for our ears rather than the harsh reality of the war he had been in.

— Being made to “live off the land” by eating grubs and plant roots during training exercises in Scotland and Ireland

— The time that Pinckney, having been asked to wear a tie to dinner in the officers’ mess in North Africa, entered wearing a tie … but nothing else

— When asked whether he had ever used his Fighting Knife Dad said no but had almost used it once – sneaking up on German sentries and getting ready to kill them only to discover that the “sentries” were actually bayonet practice dummies.

— Crossing a river rather carefully somewhere in Italy holding his small suit case above his head, signalling to his comrades that it seemed shallow enough to get across, and, on taking another step, totally disappearing under the water.

But as we got older and asked more telling questions he was a little more forthcoming, although always conscious of the fact that he had signed the Official Secrets Act, which he still took very seriously.

The story he told about the Raid on Sark is very recognisable as the one related by Eric – the climb up the cliffs, the visit to the lady in the house, the role of Anders Lassen, the waking of and capture of the prisoners and their shooting with tied hands. On being asked whether he had killed anyone in action he was usually pretty evasive – “when you fire your machine gun or throw a grenade you don’t know if you’ve hit anyone and even if you do you don’t know if you’ve killed them”. However, I do remember asking him specifically about Sark and he did say that his prisoner had escaped and ran through a vegetable garden and that he had shot him as he ran. He added that the order was given by one of the officers to shoot those who tried to escape, but he didn’t really hide behind that and certainly wasn’t comfortable that he had done it. I think, if nothing else, it offended his views on a “fair fight”.

Was my Dad brave? Yes I believe he was but he certainly didn’t see himself as a hero and wouldn’t have wanted to be seen as one. Yes he told humorous stories about the war but he didn’t romanticise war – what came through in all his stories was the camaraderie he experienced and the loyalty he felt to a group of men who would look after each other, come what may, rather than his individual part in it.

He knew that he would be shot if he was captured (as were several of those he served with, including Pinckney) but on at least another 3 occasions after Operation Basalt he went back behind enemy lines

— in North Africa fighting in the desert in the Spring and Summer of 1943

— in Italy during Operation Speedwell between September and November 1943 when he blew up a railway tunnel and spent 55 days making his way back to the Allied lines, and

— in France in August 1944

In everything he did he showed himself to be very resourceful but he was also extremely lucky

— how he managed to pass himself off as an Italian at a railway station in Rimini, packed with German soldiers, none of his family could ever work out, particularly given his total inability to speak any foreign language and his rather British looks

— although shot in the ankle whilst in France he was hidden and looked after by the French Resistance until he could be repatriated. Not only that but his nurse turned out to be a Countess with whom he kept in touch until his death, visiting her chateau near Dijon and villa in San Tropez on more than one occasion

I could obviously go on for a long time about Dad and the things he did during the war but that’s not why we are here.

We are here, I hope, not only to celebrate the launch of Eric’s excellent book but also to remember the events of the night of 3 and 4 October 1942, and the impact that they had on the islanders as well as the soldiers, both Allied and German. We’ve been able to have a really fascinating day, walking the route that the Commandos would most probably have taken, and enjoying this beautiful island – unlike my father, visiting it in a time of peace rather than a time of war. So let’s celebrate that too.

Graham Robinson
21 May 2016