The Vital Link: The Story of Royal Signals, 1945–1985

By Philip Warner

To maintain the link of communication between battlefields and HQ, between commanders and soldiers, between physically distant Corps is the vital job of the Royal Signal. But the responsibility of the Signals extends beyond the logistical requirements of inter-personal contact Electronic Intelligence and Electronic Warfare are major departments within the organisation, each of which supports the other. The Vital Link examines these diverse aspects and traces the complex developments in techniques, technology and signals tactics since the Second World War. The book, however, is more an historical story then an exhaustive tract for reference purposes. It records the growth of the Signals through its people, the 'high quality' ordinary solder to the odd character, all of whom help to define the Royal Signals. With anecdotes from individual's achievements, both personal and professional, the history of this essentially military branch is presented in an accessible and enjoyable manner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Jan 1, 1989
• ISBN: 9781473820319

Book preview

coverpage

HRH The Princess Royal.

THE

VITAL LINK

---

The Story of

Royal Signals

1945-1985

---

Philip Warner

LEO COOPER

LONDON

Publisher’s Note

In the section of photographs appearing between pages 116 and 117, the captions have unfortunately been juxtaposed. They should read as follows:

15.

Left: Microwave in Northern Ireland.

16.

Below: On the high spots.

17.

Right Bandit country – 39 Inf Bde HQ and Signal Sqn guying an antenna in Belfast.

First published 1989 by Leo Cooper Ltd.

Leo Cooper is an independent imprint of the Octopus Publishing Group PLC, Michelin House, 81 Fulham Road, London SW3 6RB

LONDON MELBOURNE AUCKLAND

Copyright © The Royal Corps of Signals 1989

ISBN 0-85052-8828

Photoset by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd

Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

Printed in Great Britain by

Butler and Tanner Ltd, Frome, Somerset

BUCKINGHAM PALACE

Throughout history, communications have been of great importance in the conduct of military operations. From the messengers of early times, to the electrical or mechanical signalling devices used up to, and during, World War II, to the advanced electronic systems in current use, military communications have evolved continuously to meet the ever-changing and constant demands of Service Commanders.

Although the systems of communication have changed enormously, the personal qualities required of those who operate them remain constant. Courage, a high sense of duty and sound professional skills are the qualities which have always been required of the signallers when, in exposed positions in the heat of the battle or in isolated locations during lonely watches of the night, they strive tirelessly to maintain essential communications.

This book is about such men as it records the history of Royal Signals from 1945–1985 through the eyes of those who served in the Corps during those momentous times. It shows success and, sometimes, failures; but, above all, it illustrates that in all the varied operational situations, these men were not found wanting in courage, dedication or skill. The Vital Link in not only a fitting title to describe the work of the Corps, but is also a tribute to all who served and sets an admirable example to those who are privileged to inherit the splendid traditions of Royal Signals.

CONTENTS

---

PREFACE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

INTRODUCTION: The Historical Perspective

PART I – OPERATIONS

  1

Well Kept Secrets and Unorthodox Operations

  2

Aftermath of War

  3

The Decade of Revolutions

  4

The Korean War

  5

Involvement in Africa

  6

Cyprus

  7

The Indonesian Confrontation

  8

‘Operation Corporate’ – The Falklands War

  9

‘Operation Banner’ – Northern Ireland

10

The Outposts

PART II – THE CORPS AND ITS RESPONSE TO CHANGE

11

The Technological Revolution and Electronic Warfare

12

Meeting the Requirements

13

The One Army Concept – The TA and WRAC

14

Airborne Signals and the SAS Connection

15

Sport, Challenge and Adventure

16

The Private Life of Royal Signals

17

Viewpoint 1987

INDEX

ILLUSTRATIONS

---

Frontispiece: HRH The Princess Royal

Between pages 20 and 21

  1

Line in the Desert.

  2

Astride the Second World War – two letters.

  3

Guiding the Corps from war into peace. The Directors Conference at the War Office, 21–22 November, 1944.

  4

Formation parade of 15 Signal Regiment in Aden, 22 January, 1961.

  5

An air support ‘tentacle’ in Aden 1963.

  6

The Fullerphone.

  7

Corporal Mills laying line in Aden, 1962.

  8

Signallers at work in Malaya, 1958.

  9

Moving a radio relay station from the Jebel Sharaz, South Yemen, 1967.

10

In deepest Trucial Oman.

Between pages 116 and 117

11

Mount Olympus, Cyprus, 1965.

12

Korea – lines at Divisional Main HQ, 1952.

13

Establishing a radio relay link from Murud, Sarawak.

14

The Falklands ‘Rear Link’, 1982.

15

Bandit country – 39 Inf Bde HQ and Signal Sqn guying an antenna in Belfast.

16

Microwave in Northern Ireland.

17

Opposite: On the high spots.

18

Lance-Corporal Gunter in Jordan, 1970.

19

Lieutenant (TOT) N. A. V. Ribchester and Corporal Corless with local line experts in Hong Kong, circa 1966.

20

Disaster relief in Pakistan.

21

BAOR teleprinter vehicle, 1963.

22

BAOR close circuit television (CCTV) monitor vehicle, 1964.

Between pages 212 and 213

23

A CLANSMAN set in service.

24

A Royal Signals operator at the communication centre HQ FARELF.

25

A Telephone switchboard for 1 (BR) Corps in Germany.

26

The Berlin Line.

27

BAOR line detachment, 1964.

28

Airborne signallers on the dropping zone.

29

Brigand of Changi.

30

Royal Signals on guard at Buckingham Palace, 1972.

31

HRH Princess Mary, The Princess Royal, our Colonel-in-Chief 1935 to 1965.

Between pages 292 and 293

32

The Corps on Public Duties.

33

The Bisley Team, 1970.

34

249 Signal Squadron AMF(L) in 1978.

35

The Fanfare Trumpeters at Richmond Castle.

36

White Helmets reunion, 1987.

37

The White Helmets, 1975.

38

Training in the 1950s.

39

Training in the 1950s.

40

Training in the 1960s.

41

Our Chelsea Pensioners.

MAPS

1

Middle East

2

Malaya

3

Aden and the Gulf States

4

Korea

5

Kenya

6

Cyprus

7

Borneo

8

Falkland Islands

9

Northern Ireland

Endpapers: Outposts of the Royal Signals

PREFACE

---

My brief for this book was to write the story of the Royal Corps of Signals from 1945 in a form which would be easy to read. Whenever possible, incidents would be described by those involved. A detailed and exhaustive historical reference book was not required: that material is available in the Corps archives.

This is a story about soldiers. Much of the work of Royal Signals today makes use of high technology, but the Corps never loses sight of the fact that it is a combat unit and that courage, leadership, endurance and a sense of humour are as important today as they have ever been in the past.

PHILIP WARNER

Camberley

1988

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

---

So many members of the Corps have helped me in the production of this book that it would be impossible to list them all. However, there are some of whom mention must be made. Major-General E. J. Hellier formally requested me to write the history, and the members of the Historical Management Committee, chaired first by Brigadier A. M. Willcox, then by Brigadier J. H. Almonds and finally by Brigadier A. H. Boyle, gave me invaluable assistance. I therefore take this opportunity of thanking Major-General D. R. Horsfield, a veteran of the campaign in Burma during the Second World War, who supplied large quantities of essential information, Colonel A. Pagan, Colonel J. Francis, Colonel A. de Bretton Gordon, Lieutenant-Colonel J. Beale and Major A. G. Harfield. Lieutenant-Colonel Robin Painter, another Burma veteran, who was both a member of the Committee and the Corps History Researcher, provided the assistance without which this book simply would not have been possible: nothing was ever too much trouble for him, his advice was invaluable, and his industry was prodigious.

Major-General A. Yeoman arranged an extremely valuable visit to the units in BAOR and provided me with an efficient ADC in Lieutenant M. Fenton. On my tour through 4 Signal Group, 16 Signal Regiment, 21 Signal Regiment, 28 Signal Regiment (which made me an honorary member), 7 Signal Regiment and 14 Signal Regiment I had the fullest help and co-operation from all ranks.

As it would be impracticable to try to thank everyone individually who has helped me to produce this book, I can only thank them generally, which I do, with gratitude.

Western Desert

‘If the enemy was far off and there was no need for camouflage, a tarpaulin stretched between two cars gave good shade, and so you lay for the midday heat, not sweating for sweat dried as it reached the skin surface, dozing or talking of the unfailing summer noontime topic – drink. Only the wireless operator had to stir himself, listening in case Group Headquarters had a message. …

‘And at night, when the rest of the patrol were (more or less) comfortably in bed, sharing with the tired wireless operator the light of a hooded inspection lamp. …

‘Most men in the Long Range Desert Group were specialists in something, and of all these experts the signalman was probably the most important, though the navigators ran them close. For what was primarily a reconnaissance unit good signals were essential. Without them a patrol, three or four hundred miles away from its base, could neither send back vital information nor receive fresh orders. If signals failed, the best thing to do was to come home.

‘And looking back now I realize how seldom they did fail. We cursed them for having to halt at given times to come up for Group HQ; we disliked their poles and aerials which might advertise to the enemy the presence of a patrol, we scoffed at their atmospherics, skip distances and interferences; we blamed them when they could not get through and when ciphers would not come out; we were impatient with their checks and repeats, forgetting the regularity with which they kept communication.’

Long Range Desert Group, W. B. Kennedy-Shaw

Burma

‘For the signallers there is no peace. They have time only to rid themselves of their equipment before they unload their mules and start erecting their sets. The aerials are slung over the neighbouring trees, sometimes missing their mark and landing with a thud beside a recumbent soldier. In a moment everything is fixed and an operator sits at each set with the sweat of the march still on him. They have a hard time and they deserve the thanks and praise of us all. They have no time to relax or even enjoy the advantage of sitting by a fire watching the food cook or the water boil. Briggs goes round the sets and checks up on progress, repeating the same three words which were to be our theme in the future: Are you through? Jack Masters comes up to Briggs and asks, Are we through? The Brigadier turns to Jack Masters, Are they through? And the only man who can do anything about it is a signalman (the lowest rank in the Royal Signals) on whose ability depends the maintenance of the whole column. So that, while majors swear and brigadiers fume, the man on the set carries quietly on with his job, perhaps a little amused but always conscious of the vital nature of his work. …

‘The key hammers away and at last there is an answering call.’

Chindit, Richard Rhodes James

Electronic Warfare

‘It is now possible to find the direction of a station on a known frequency in under 1/10th second. It follows that the best defence is to employ LPI (Low Probability of Intercept) technique so as not to be targeted for Direction Finding (DF). Although the time available for DF is reduced by FH (Frequency Hopping) Radio, it would only become unmanageable at very fast hop rates, and the bearing accuracy available from DF on a number of frequencies is better than that obtained on a single frequency, due to the cancellation of multipath effects.’

From The Royal Signals Journal, Spring, 1985

Communications

‘I know of no military operations which were not dependent to one degree or another on communications; the more difficult the operations the more crucial the dependence – Arnhem springs to mind. This experience comprehends the battles of the Second World War and those in Korea, in which masses of men were involved, to the small-scale operations in the mountains behind Aden, the jungles of Malaya and Borneo, and internal security operations like those in Palestine which we now conduct at home in Ulster. I think of signallers labouring through mud or snow up steep hillsides to set up an aerial, coaxing power for radios in a beleaguered position, of a sergeant with a broken shoulder insisting on staying with his radio and young crew through a chilling night in the desert. Communications have been established and maintained through the night and day, in many climates, at risk to life and limb by men like these in the Royal Signals.’

From General Sir Anthony Farrar-Hockley

GBE, KCB, DSO, MC, M.Litt(Oxon)

INTRODUCTION

---

The Historical Perspective

---

ALTHOUGH this account of the Royal Corps of Signals concentrates on the period 1945–1985, it is important to bear in mind that the Corps was established in 1920 and subsequently had a vital role in the Second World War. The fact that a large part of its work between 1939 and 1945 was secret has meant that material of great interest has never previously been published, and even today some details may not be disclosed. Nevertheless, there is much that has now been cleared for publication, and therefore, as a preliminary, certain stories are included which give insight into the range of Corps activities in the Second World War.

Furthermore, although the Corps is one of the younger units in the British Army, one must not forget it is heir to a fascinating tradition of military communication which dates back to prehistoric times. It is not possible in a book of this length to give more than a very brief mention of some of the achievements of early signallers but anyone who researches into this aspect of primitive warfare will immediately be struck by the degree of sophistication shown in signalling when tactics and strategy were, to say the least, elementary. In fact, from the beginnings of human conflict communication between and within fighting forces has been essential, and recognized as such. Inevitably much of the information was secret and protected, even in those far-distant days. The most primitive tribes were able to communicate over hundreds of miles by a variety of secret codes, of which one of the easiest to hear while being the most difficult to understand, was the drum beat (said to have been the inspiration for the morse code).

Not surprisingly, the armies of Greece, Rome and many other countries developed numerous ingenious ways of passing messages and codes and many of those methods were used century after century, even into the first half of the present one. We may, perhaps, now have reached a point when all military communications will be made electronically and old-fashioned methods be safely forgotten. However, the enduring lesson of military history is that it is unwise to be complacent about anything. Electronic warfare is comparatively young and it may develop in a way which will make electronic communications impossible. If this happens, and it is a possible development, modern armies will have to adopt new methods which may in fact be very old ones. Communication by pigeon has long been thought to be an ancient joke, but it is worth recalling that this method, used in Ancient Egypt in pre-Christian times, by Genghis Khan and many medieval commanders, and as recently as 1944 by 1st Airborne Division, may still have something to offer. During the First World War, when artillery bombardment made all other forms of message transmission impossible, the pigeon could usually be relied on to deliver messages, even though often wounded on the way.

Our military ancestors appreciated the wisdom of the maxim ‘Keep it simple’. When the Spanish Armada was sighted, they used beacons and church bells to warn 50,000 men to report for duty; in 1940 when Britain faced the threat of invasion, beacons were once again made ready. Perhaps the day of all these simple methods of signalling is finally over, and we can say goodbye to heliographs, runners, symbols, signs, invisible writing, and many other devices which have performed well in the past: we shall see.

Paradoxically, the more complicated methods of warfare become the more effective are the counter-measures; the cavalryman was made obsolete by the machine-gun, but the machine-gun could not stop a tank. However, the modern anti-tank missile may demolish the tank crew as effectively as the rifle bullet destroyed the horseman. Nevertheless, it would be unwise to assume that modern electronic communication is certain to be outmoded; a more likely possibility is that the efficiency of modern, world-wide signals communications will make warfare itself obsolete. Eternal vigilance will still be necessary, and the last person to go home will, as usual, be the signalman.

The 19th century brought rapid and extensive developments in the art of signalling. As early as the Napoleonic Wars (1793–1815) a crude form of field telegraph was used. It had been invented by a Frenchman named Claud Chappe in 1792 and was named the Radiated Telegraph Machine. This was a machine not unlike a windmill which carried a message symbol on an extended arm. It did not spell out a message but gave a code which the reader then had to look up in a dictionary. Doubtless some of the simpler codes were soon learnt and the dictionary set on one side.

Two British versions of this machine followed quickly. Curiously enough, the inventor of each was in Holy Orders: one was an Archdeacon, the other the Chaplain-General. Both machines used letters to spell out words rather than the complicated codes given out by the French invention. The one invented by the Archdeacon (The Venerable Lord George Murray) was adopted by the Admiralty for relaying messages from London to the coast. One of its transmitter sites was Telegraph Clump, which, appropriately, is now occupied by the School of Signals at Blandford Camp. The other machine (by the Reverend John Gamble) was adopted by the army and used in the Peninsular War. Gamble hoped that the navy would use his machine for ship-to-shore signalling but found the Admiralty unimpressed. However, some years after Gamble’s death in 1811 an Army General, Sir Charles Pasley, succeeded in having an improved Gamble machine adopted by the navy. Surprisingly this machine was still in use in the 1940s. Every invention seems to produce a controversy, and there was a long-lasting argument between the supporters of the single letter type of signals and the code-sending signal. Both, of course, claimed their own was the faster and more efficient method. However, in either form, this semaphore (the word literally means sign bearer) type of signalling was never used much by the army. It was too slow, limited in range, and required the signaller to make himself an easy target for a sniper. It did, however, produce a useful exercise for Boy Scouts and as a signalling ‘arm’ had a long and successful history on the railways.

The invention of morse code and the electric telegraph revolutionized signalling. The inventor of both was Samuel Morse, an American graduate of Yale University who became a publisher’s clerk. He gave up ambitions in the book trade in order to take up painting, which he proceeded to study in England. On his return to the USA he achieved some fame as a portrait painter. When he was forty-three he set his versatile mind to the task of inventing an electric telegraph. Three years later he had a working model. A year later he invented the morse code which has certainly stood the test of time. However, another seventeen years elapsed before he was able to patent his invention and become wealthy. One wonders how many operators hammering out vital messages could have believed that the instrument they were using was the product of the mind of a successful painter who did not invent it until he was well over forty, nor begin to profit from it until he was over sixty. In his youth Morse had been considered a ne’er do well.

Morse’s life contrasts sharply with that of Alexander Graham Bell who invented the telephone. Bell was a speech therapist, much interested in deaf aids, who thought out the principle of the telephone in 1876. It was in widespread use by 1880. However, when Bell announced that he could speak to another person three miles away by using a wire connection, the whole idea was so preposterous that he was denounced as a charlatan and a swindler and there was a move to imprison him. Those who are constantly interrupted by telephone calls today may regret Bell’s enemies did not succeed in suppressing his invention.

Morse’s electric telegraph made its debut in war in the Crimea between 1854 and 1856. A submarine cable (340 miles long) was laid between Varna in Bulgaria, where the British force had a base, and the peninsula where British and French were confronting the Russians in a conflict in which a high level of incompetence was shown on all sides. This telegraph link enabled the French Emperor Napoleon III to harass his commanders-in-chief with unnecessary suggestions and enquiries while the British War Office, not to be outdone, was adding to the already heavy burden of the Commander-in-Chief by requests for information which a modern commander might reasonably expect but which drove the unfortunate General Simpson to exasperation. However, the frustrations of the senior officers were nothing to those of the unfortunates delegated to make overland links. Cables had to be laid by digging into ground which seemed about as hard when thawed as when frozen. Mice nibbled off the insulation which otherwise was often stolen by soldiers to make pipe stems. For the first but by no means the last time, signallers learnt that copper wire is greatly appreciated by local inhabitants, who, as soon as the line-layers have departed, remove long sections for domestic purposes such as washing lines. The man appointed to take charge of the headquarters signal office was in his seventies, had been carrying two bullets in his head for the previous forty-six years, and was almost illiterate, but he had the saving grace of being enthusiastic and in consequence learnt how to become a telegraphist and acquitted himself very satisfactorily.

The early history of signals communication is a miracle of improvisation and inventiveness. At this stage began the practice of expecting signallers to operate their machines in addition to taking part in other occupations on the battlefield. As they were then all members of the Royal Engineers they had plenty to do. In 1867, when we were engaged in the Abyssinian War, the first three men into the citadel, reached with no slight difficulty by scaling ladders, were all signallers, one of whom had already been wounded.

Signals training owes much to the persistence of Sir John Burgoyne. The appointment of Burgoyne as Chief Engineer for the Crimean War when he was already 72 had raised many eyebrows but he stood up to the rigours of the campaign remarkably well and continued his military career until he was 86. His experience of the Crimean and earlier wars had convinced him of the need for Signals training, and the establishment of the Signals Wing at Chatham was largely his doing, although it did not come into use until a year after his retirement. Not many soldiers serve for seventy years: Burgoyne had an additional distinction in that he was the illegitimate son of a general (who was also a highly successful dramatist) whose military career had been slightly interrupted when he had to take up residence in France to escape his creditors.

The Chatham Signals Wing was soon thriving. By this time there were a number of private telegraph companies functioning in Britain but in 1870 the Government decided to purchase them all, thus founding the General Post Office Telegraph Company. The GPO, of course, continued to handle telegrams until the mid 1980s, after which they were abolished except for very special occasions. Much of the early work of the GPO was handled by men lent from the army. Thus began a long and successful liaison between civilian and military communications services. The first specialist unit to be established was C Telegraph Troop which came into being in 1870. In 1873 the Adjutant was Lieutenant H. H. Kitchener, who had already shown all the dedication and industry which would eventually take him to the rank of Field-Marshal. However, he was not involved in the campaign which took place against the Ashanti (in West Africa) that year. The Ashanti expedition, led by the intrepid Sir Garnet Wolseley, had to force its way through jungle to the stronghold of King Coffee, whose warriors were harassing and enslaving coastal dwellers and traders. The hardships of the signallers on this expedition were remarkably similar to those experienced by their successors in Burma in 1943.

C Troop was in action again in the Zulu War in 1879. The detachment comprised 7 officers, 200 men and 110 horses, but was only allotted 20 miles of cable. This pitiful allocation was, of course, totally inadequate and the Troop was soon instituting a practice which later became all too well known – improvisation. In order to try to remedy the cable deficiency, ordinary fencing wire was used, but this, being uninsulated, was far from satisfactory.

This campaign also saw the use of heliostats and heliographs under wartime conditions. The heliostat operated by reflecting the sun’s beam to a fixed point. A shutter enabled the sender to send an intermittent beam and therefore made morse messages possible. The disadvantage was that the fixed mirror could only reflect to one point. The heliograph had a swivel mirror which could flash the message to whatever receiver was intended. Heliographs were widely used in India, where ranges of ninety miles were possible. However, if either the sun was obscured by cloud or the heliograph by smoke, no communication was possible. When either event occurred, arc lamps were brought into use. These were introduced by Lieutenant H. A. Bagnold who commanded a Signals detachment during the First Boer War (1881–2). Bagnold’s son, as we see later, was a pioneer of the Long Range Desert Group which laid the foundations of irregular warfare in the desert and thus made the early SAS raids possible.

Among other notable achievements of this period was that of Corporal Elsmore. In 1882 Egypt was on the verge of bankruptcy. France and Britain, having considerable financial interests in the area, established the ‘Dual Control’ to make Egypt financially viable once more. This led to a wave of anti-foreign sentiment, and a revolt against the Egyptian government led by a disgruntled soldier named Arabi Pasha. Joint British and French action was suggested but the French, with a wary eye to German ambitions in Europe, dared not commit forces to Egypt; appropriate action was therefore left to the British. The indispensable Sir Garnet Wolseley (nicknamed ‘our only General’) was given the task of suppressing Arabi and restoring order. This he proceeded to do by a brisk campaign Culminating in a five-mile night march across the desert to Arabi’s well-fortified position. There was, however, no slight problem over finding a route through hostile territory in the dark. Corporal Elsmore was therefore told to erect signal poles in the correct direction for two miles. When this somewhat hazardous task had been accomplished, Elsmore and his comrade had to lead the advancing column by navigating by the stars and laying cable at the same time. The final stage, immediately before the dawn attack, was both difficult and extremely perilous (Elsmore seems to have received no more than a message of thanks from Wolseley). When victory was complete, Wolseley handed C Troop his report to Queen Victoria. It was sent at 8.30 and the Queen’s reply was received at 9.15. This was the first occasion in history when a signal announcing victory was sent straight from the battlefield.

Two years later the Telegraph Battalion, as it was called, had received its own emblem. The one chosen, which was, of course, Mercury, was the suggestion of Major C. F. C. Beresford.

Signals, although still only a subdivision of the Royal Engineers, was rapidly acquiring its own identity and developing the characteristics which would make it highly respected later. Signallers often had to assume responsibilities usually attached to ranks much higher than those held. Explaining to very senior officers or highly placed government officials just what they could or could not do required considerable tact and obvious efficiency. Another less popular activity of signallers was to perform tasks which meant exposing themselves all too clearly as targets for enemy action. In West Africa signallers set up telephone lines through territories occupied by cannibals; in the Second Ashanti War the enemy was not only the jungle, ferocious warriors and vicious insects, but also the debilitating fevers which caused the area to be nicknamed ‘the White Man’s Grave’.

The Commander of the Signals detachment in the Ashanti campaign, Major R. Curtis, invariably carried a long stick which had many uses in the jungle. The future Lord Baden-Powell, later the hero of Mafeking and the founder of the Boy Scout Movement, noted how useful Curtis’s stick proved to be. In consequence, when he founded the Scouts, he decided that they should all carry a staff which could be used for everything from leaping ditches to serving as an emergency tent pole.

During the South African War of 1899–1902, Signals were severely tested by the size of the battle area and the mobility of the forces in it. An attempt was made to use wireless, but this was too underdeveloped to be of practical use. During this war, 18,000 miles of line were laid and over thirteen million messages were sent. Night signalling by lamp became an established practice, and directing artillery fire from an observation balloon linked by telephone proved a success.

However, by no means all the developments in signalling had taken place in Africa. Campaigns in Afghanistan, Burma, China, India and the Arabian peninsula all had their success stories. Signallers travelled by boat, raft, horse and elephant. Extremes of temperature were not allowed to interfere with efficiency but most people preferred not to try to emulate the achievements of the signallers in Tibet in 1904, where the telegraph was functioning efficiently at a height of 15,000 feet in a temperature 60 degrees Fahrenheit below freezing.

The failure of wireless in the South African War made Signallers more determined than ever to make a success of this new discovery. In 1907 two wireless companies were formed. The following year the term ‘Telegraph Battalion’ was discontinued and instead came the new title of ‘The Royal Engineers Signal Service’. Twelve years later this would become the Royal Corps of Signals.

The outbreak of war on 4 August, 1914, tested existing Signals organization to the limit. Realization of how quickly fixed lines could be destroyed by gunfire brought into prominence the newly-established (1912) motor-cycle despatch rider service. Motor-cycles were still a rich man’s toy in 1914, but there was nothing of the pampered idler about the recruits who came forward for this new and highly dangerous service. It was reported that the whole of Cambridge University Officer Training Corps volunteered en masse for despatch riding duties. Many recruits brought their own expensive machines with them. Some went further than motor-cycles and brought luxurious motor-cars: there were two Rolls Royces. The despatch riders (DRs) were soon in action and distinguished themselves by their ability to take messages where telegraph lines had been destroyed, where roads were damaged or blocked, when weather conditions produced hazards varying from snowdrifts to mudholes and when the engines had to be kept going by improvised mechanical repairs. DRs were an obvious target for snipers and casualty rates for one reason and another tended to be high.

Perhaps it was fortunate that they did not realize how trivial were some of the messages they were risking their lives to deliver. During the Battle of Loos in 1915, an infantry battalion which had already lost half its numbers were waiting for orders from HQ whether to renew or break off the attack. A DR was seen roaring along through shellfire. On arrival he handed his message to the Adjutant, who tore it open, then grimly handed it to the CO, who was wondering whether this was the death knell of his battalion. It read: ‘In future shoemakers’ lasts should be ordered by the brigade and not by battalion as heretofore.’ This somewhat bizarre moment was matched on D Day on 6 June, 1944. A surgeon, bending over a horribly wounded man, heard his name spoken and was handed a message by a corporal, who had discovered the addressee with no small difficulty and danger. The surgeon tore it open with bloodied hands. Inside was an envelope from the Inland Revenue requesting his tax return.

A less dangerous occasion was when the Indian Corps arrived at Marseilles in 1915. A message had been sent indicating that a large number of girls would be present on their arrival. Alas it was a mistake: owing to an error in transmission the word ‘girls’ had been substituted for ‘goats’.

Predictions that visual signalling and the use of pigeons were about to become obsolete proved surprisingly wrong as the war progressed. This was largely due to the unprecedented destruction of lines although, of course, these continued to be laid and used everywhere. Lines, however, soon proved a hazard to security. Lines were tapped, listening posts were established, and enormous efforts were made to intercept enemy messages. A successful device for making front-line communication secure was the Fullerphone, the invention of Captain (subsequently Major-General) A. C. Fuller. Fullerphones were still being used in the early stages of the Second World War.

Inevitably, casualties among signallers, particularly cable layers and message carriers, were very high. Whenever shelling was heavy, which was often, cables would be ruptured. Urgent messages were then sent by runner who had the dangerous task of finding a way through shellfire, while teams of cable repairers went out to locate and mend the fault. Other units could keep their heads down inside the trenches: it was the duty of signallers to crawl across devastated areas, which had once been No Man’s Land. There were many citations for gallantry. Corporal Reading, who was awarded a DCM in the third battle of Ypres (and was later killed), was described by his Brigadier as ‘the bravest man I have ever seen’.

As the war continued, dogs were used extensively as message carriers and cable layers. They left England accompanied by their own handlers and their own kennels. They had been carefully trained not to react adversely to explosions and acquired a remarkable indifference to them. The inducement was the favourite piece of food, which would be waiting for them at their destination. Unfortunately soldiers on the route who became much taken up by these canine warriors were liable to upset the schedule by offering the dog a tasty morsel, quite unaware of the adverse effect this would have on the whole operation.

Although for most of the time the war was static, there were occasions, such as the great retreat of March, 1918, and the counterattacks which succeeded it, when Signals had to demonstrate the mobility they had developed in the past. When tanks were used in a surprise attack at Cambrai, the operation had been preceded by the laying of 13,000 miles of cable, in complete secrecy. Cable had to be laid well below the surface, otherwise it would be cut by our own advancing tanks. Tanks went into action in groups of five, of which the fifth was always a Signals vehicle which maintained a radio link to the nearest infantry HQ. In addition all tanks carried two pigeons. Pigeons were often wounded but, like dogs, usually did their best to struggle on to their destinations. On many occasions signallers had to cease operating their sets and engage in hand-to-hand combat with the Germans. When the situation stabilized, if it did and they were still alive, they began to re-establish the communication link.

Communications problems were no less difficult in other theatres than France, merely different. At Gallipoli in 1915 the only Victoria Cross won by the New Zealanders was awarded to a Signals Corporal, C. R. G. Basset. In Salonika, in Mesopotamia, in East Africa, and Palestine, to name but a few, Signals faced a variety of challenges. In Palestine, the dramatic campaign in which Allenby tore the Turkish defences into shreds, was dependent on efficient signalling by heliographs which worked by sun during the day and by moonlight after dark. Rapid cable-laying was also an important asset.

A somewhat different achievement was that of Sapper C. Robson who was laying a cable across the River Piave in 1918 when the river was in spate and the water icy. Enemy machine-guns were traversing the surface. Robson took a drum of line and struggled across the flooded river. Then he came back and helped pull some more of his friends out of the water. Later the same day he crossed the river once more with another drum. He was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal.

Even when all seemed to be over there was still some work for Signals to do. After 1918 Russia was in turmoil. Civil war began between the two armies of the Bolsheviks and the White Russians. British and American signallers were assisting the latter, mainly with a view to extracting the war material which the Allies had despatched to Russia when the latter was still fighting the Germans. Signallers on this occasion found themselves using sleighs for transport.

At the end of the First World War, the Royal Engineers Signal Service could look back on a brilliant record of expansion, adaptation and improvisation. It was a remarkable story. But future requirements looked like being even more complicated, and new inventions and developments were clearly going to make the First World War Signals look primitive. But although the Signals Service was still a part of the Royal Engineers, it had also become a separate entity.

In consequence on 28 June, 1920, a Corps of Signals was established. On 5 August of the same year the title Royal was conferred on the Corps by HM King George V.

The establishment of a new Corps was no reflection on the Royal Engineers, who had handled army communications so efficiently in conjunction with their other duties; it merely recognized that the anticipated growth in signals communications required a Corps with no responsibilities other than that development. An Old Comrades Association (now the Royal Signals Association) was formed with the object of looking into the welfare of former members of the Corps, and this included members who had previously served with the Royal Engineers Signal Service. It continues to thrive today. In 1920, when the Corps was at Maresfield, Sussex, there was a camp magazine entitled The Wire edited by Signalman G. Palin. Under Mr Palin’s expert guidance it became the Corps magazine; it is now published every two months and has a circulation of over 5,000, which means a probable readership of four or five times that number.

The figure of Mercury was now formally adopted as the Corps badge. The cap badge, enclosed inside an oval band, proved less popular than the social version (for blazers, etc) which showed Mercury standing on a globe with an imperial crown above. The new motto Certa Cito appeared on a scroll. Certa Cito, which is officially translated as ‘Swift and Sure’, was the suggestion of Professor Lieutenant-Colonel F. J. M. Stratton, DSO, OBE, FRS. It is a popular motto even though some of the translations have been disrespectful. When there was an influx of graduates with degrees in Classics in the early 1940s, some suggested that instead of cito the word should have been citra which means ‘less than’.

From the beginning the Royal Corps of Signals made its presence very clearly seen and felt in the sporting field. The Army Unit Athletic Competition was won three times in five years and the Cross Country Team won the Army Championship in 1924. Two runners soon made their mark on the international scene. One was Lance-Corporal W. M. ‘Joe’ Cotterell, who won several international races; the other was Lieutenant C. H. Stoneley (who subsequently became Brigadier C. H. Stoneley OBE) who was an Olympic quarter-miler. Boxing was a very popular sport in the Corps and this was reflected by the success achieved by teams and individuals. An outstanding performer was Signalman V. A. Stuart, who became the heavyweight amateur champion of Great Britain.

In the early years officers tended to be reluctant to join a newly-formed Corps in preference to older and better-known units (although some very good ones did). At first officers came from the universities, the Royal Military College, Sandhurst, and the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich. After 1926 they were no longer drawn from Sandhurst, which specialized in infantry and cavalry. From the career point of view there were obvious advantages in joining the Corps. An officer who obtained a distinction on the Q Course at the School of Signals and subsequently obtained five years practical experience, could apply for membership of the Institution of Electrical Engineers and thus be qualified for an excellent post in civilian life when he decided to retire from the army.

The first Colonel Commandant was Lieutenant-General Sir John Fowler who, at that time, was GOC in China. General Fowler had served in the Telegraph Battalion, had been Commandant of the Signals School, and had been Director of Signals to the British Expeditionary Force from 1914 to 1919. He was also a ‘lucky’ General, lucky in fact to have survived to become one, for in 1896 when a British force was endeavouring to relieve Chitral he was taken prisoner by two of the most bloodthirsty characters on the North West Frontier of India. For his courage both before and after capture he received a DSO, though in fact he had been recommended for a Victoria Cross.

In 1925 the Signals Training Centre was moved from Maresfield, where most of the accommodation was only temporary, to Catterick, which was to be the headquarters of the Corps for many years. Maresfield had seen the formation of a volunteer band which gave excellent service, though having no official status. The first bandmaster, Mr R. R. Ricketts, was a civilian whose expenses were met by subscription from the officers. Mr Ricketts composed music under the name of Leo Stanley. He was so successful that the band was soon helping to pay its way from outside engagements. Most of the bandsmen were officially linemen, even though they did not lay many lines. When Mr Ricketts retired in 1939, he was replaced by a bandmaster warrant officer and the members of the band became bandsmen by trade. (Bandsmen used to be converted to stretcher-bearers in wartime but are now employed as switchboard operators.) A Corps march was formed from a combination of ‘Begone Dull Care’ and ‘Come you not from Newcastle’. Somewhat surprisingly the latter was close in words and tune to a well known Pathan love-song. ‘Leo Stanley’ composed a slow march – the ‘Princess Royal’s March’ – when HRH The Princess Mary was appointed Colonel-in-Chiefin 1935.

1927 saw the debut of the motor-cycle display teams, which raised trick-cycling at speed to a fine art and soon performed at the Royal Tournament. At first there was considerable head shaking among cavalry officers at this attempt to mechanize the traditional cavalry musical rides, but the breach was not so much healed as welded together when combined displays were introduced. As most modern motorcyclists know, horses do not take kindly to fast and noisy motor-cycles, but assiduous practice overcame this natural aversion and eventually horses lay down and raised no objection when motor-cycles leapt roaring over them. The