Handsome Brute: The True Story of a Ladykiller (22 page)

Based at Buller Barracks in Aldershot, Heath’s strategy at this stage – and it certainly seems like a careful and deliberate plan – was to join up as a lower-status private and then to pursue his goals from within the service. He may well have been starting at the bottom again but he was determined not to stay there.

By December of 1939, though there had been attacks at sea, there had been no significant offensives by the major powers in the war. Heath was at home in Wimbledon, visiting his parents for Christmas. While at a dance at the Dog and Fox on Wimbledon Hill, he bumped into Peggy Dixon, a 24-year-old girl from Loxley Road in nearby Wandsworth. They had been introduced some years before at a twenty-first birthday party. Peggy remembered that Heath had been in the RAF at the time, or was just about to join. Heath told her that he was an army cadet now and Peggy told him about her work as a civil servant. The pair got on well, arranging to meet again. Peggy visited Merton Hall Road and was introduced to William and Bessie Heath and Heath was introduced to Peggy’s parents, too. The couple had a lot in common and it seemed a very sensible match. Given Heath’s recent history, his parents must have been relieved that their son was settling down at last, with a job, a girlfriend – a future. Everything was looking up for him.
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Early in 1940, Heath joined the Officer Cadet Training Unit, passing out on 23 March as a 2nd Lieutenant. He visited Mr Scott and proudly showed off his uniform. He had passed ninth out of thirty-four cadets. He told Scott that he had discussed his past history with his company commander who was ‘awfully understanding and terribly nice about everything’. Neville Heath the rakish playboy seemed to have turned prodigal. Not only was he prospering in the RASC, but he was confronting his past mistakes, being upfront and honest about them. His commanding officer had approached the RAF on his behalf and had arranged for a transfer. He was to be drafted to the Middle East soon as a reconnaissance pilot attached to the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force on a ‘special job’.

Mr Scott was hugely impressed by the extraordinary turnaround in Heath’s fortunes. But little of the information he gave Scott was actually true. Though he was certainly scheduled to travel out to Palestine and might have
hoped
for some sort of flying role, there is no indication from Heath’s War Office records that he was offered one.
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Like many romances of the time, the overseas posting intensified Heath’s relationship with Peggy. He asked her to marry him and she accepted. On Saturday 13 April 1940, Heath and Peggy celebrated their engagement with a family party at her parents’ home in Wandsworth.

The heroic young subaltern was waved off to war on the 18 April, leaving his sweetheart and his family at home, all bursting with pride.

On 10 June 1940, just as Heath arrived in Palestine, Italy declared war on Britain and France.

Mussolini had designs on the French and British colonies in North Africa with the intention of expanding Italian territories in the area, seizing the Arabian oil fields and controlling the Suez Canal. Italian forces would first have to drive through Egypt, which, though officially neutral, had agreed by treaty to allow British occupation forces if the Suez Canal was threatened. Almost immediately, the Italian air forces started bombing the strategic port of Tel Aviv and the oil terminal and refinery at Haifa.

Heath was stationed at Sarafand in Palestine and in July of 1940, he sent letters to Mr Scott saying that he was now with the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force, ‘longing to have a crack at the Italians’.
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He had also written to his parents indicating that he had been promoted to the rank of captain, but there’s no mention of this appointment in his service records. These advancements and his tales of the war from the centre of the action were all fantasy. The reality was rather different. Despite the entry of Italy into the war, if Heath had been expecting to be thrown right into a
Biggles
-style adventure, he was to be extremely disappointed. As he wrote later in his life story in the press:

I was very bored of the enforced inactivity [at Sarafand]. We would wear civvies and everything was just like peacetime. When Italy entered the war I applied dozens of times for a posting to the Western Desert but this was consistently refused.
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Norbert Gaffrey, an orderly room clerk with the RASC, noted that when Heath first arrived at Sarafand he had carried out his duties well. Working in the office, Gaffrey was also aware that Heath had applied for a transfer to the RAF. Gaffrey typed a copy of Heath’s application and dispatched it with a letter from the commanding officer to the Supplies and Transport Force Headquarters in Jerusalem. According to Gaffrey, the application was refused and this had a marked effect on Heath’s behaviour. He now became ‘unmindful and careless’.
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On 13 September, Italian forces crossed into Egypt from their base in Cyrenaica in Libya, outnumbering British forces four to one. But the Italians only made it as far as Siddi Barrani, a town near the Mediterranean. By the end of the year, the Western Desert Force under General Wavell had launched a counter-attack, Operation Compass. This resulted in the defeat of the Italian Tenth Army and the repossession of all the Italian gains in Egypt and most of Cyrenaica. British forces took 130,000 Italian prisoners of war. Frustratingly for Heath, all the action seemed to be happening nearby, but beyond his reach. Despite this, he wrote letters home telling a very different story – placing himself at the centre of the action, ‘giving the Italians hell and it’s just too easy’. In reality, he was more likely to have been playing football on the beach at Sarafand.

On 20 February 1941 he wrote to Mr Scott claiming that his transfer to the RAF had been approved and that he would soon be with a fighter squadron. Again, this is a fantasy, Heath’s application having been rejected. But he does seem to have seen some action in the Middle East, during the little-remembered Anglo-Iraqi war.

Rashid Ali, the former anti-British prime minister of Iraq, launched a coup d’etat against the Iraqi Regent. Once in power, he threatened two British air bases in Iraq, much to Churchill’s chagrin. But after British forces launched a pre-emptive strike against the Iraqis, Rashid Ali fled to Persia and the pro-British monarchy was restored.

Heath claimed to have played a subsidiary role in this war, which lasted for twenty-nine days in 1941. He was stationed away from the fighting at H4, the pumping station on the Haifa-Baghdad road that was a potential target for sabotage. But during the ongoing conflict, Fort Rutbah near to H4 had been seized by the Iraqis. Heath heard of a British raiding party that was to attempt to re-take the fort – and, like a
Beau Geste
fantasy, he was determined to be part of it. It’s certainly true that Blenheim Bombers from Squadron 203 did attack the Iraqis at Rutbah on 9 May and they did fly from H4. But, as ever, it’s difficult to know with Heath what is true and what isn’t. But he was certainly not the sort of man to hang around when there was action to be had in the immediate vicinity. It’s also true that many servicemen keen to see active service did join in raids without the permission of their commanding officer.
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Heath claimed that after the raid on Fort Rutbah, when he returned to H4, his commanding officer had noted his absence and ordered him back to Sarafand for deserting his post. Shortly afterwards he claimed that he had more trouble with his superior officers when he was working on convoy duty. He had sent 200 trucks to Syria, but by the time they reached Beirut, there were two trucks missing. A furious superior officer upbraided Heath. An argument ensued between the two men and Heath was again sent back to Sarafand – this time, under arrest. Heath’s stories about his time in Palestine conform to a particular pattern: headstrong young man seeks adventure. Though there’s probably some truth in his stories of insubordination in Palestine, records from the War Office give a much more prosaic reason for his arrest.

Heath had been in financial difficulties for some time – to such an extent that in April his commanding officer devised a scheme for the supervision of his financial affairs. Heath agreed not to cash any cheques without the consent of his commanding officer or adjutant until all his debts were repaid. But despite this, he carried on writing cheques that continued to bounce. However, all the time, he had been drawing money from the field cashier with a
second
Advance Pay Book that he had stolen – which effectively enabled him to cash twice as much money as any officer of his rank. Certainly, off duty, Heath would have enjoyed a luxurious lifestyle – sumptuous dinners in smart hotels and free-flowing alcohol. But given that he was living in a war zone, with most of his needs provided by the army, how had he got into debt so quickly and what was he spending his money on?

Paull Hill’s
Portrait of a Sadist
was published in 1960, some fourteen years after Heath’s trial.
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Significantly, Hill was a lawyer and would have known that the material that he discussed in the book would not be publishable until the passing of the Obscene Publications Act in 1959.

During the war, Hill had been an adjutant on a troop carrier, SS
Mooltan
, where he had first met Neville Heath. How much of the story Heath told Hill is true is unclear. But it would certainly account for Heath’s increasing issues with money during his time in Palestine, as well as anticipating his later sexual predilections. During off-duty periods, Heath left the tedium of Sarafand and spent much of his time (and most of his money) in Jerusalem and particularly, Cairo.

In the Middle East at the time, Cairo was the focus for the entertainment of Allied troops on leave or for those passing through to the various desert theatres of war. By 1941, Cairo’s population of half a million was increased by 35,000 troops from Britain and the Empire. It offered a pre-war, colonial lifestyle of indulgent luxury. Noël Coward, who made a journey throughout the Middle East at this time, was stunned and slightly sickened by the sybaritic existence lived out in the foyers and restaurants of the Continental and Shepheard’s Hotel – where, famously, stocks of champagne didn’t run out until 1943.

The restrictions of wartime are unknown; people sat there sipping Gin-Slings and cocktails and chatting and gossiping, waiters glided about wearing Fezzes . . . There were uniforms everywhere of all ranks and nationalities . . . [indicating] that perhaps somewhere in the vague outside world there might be a war of some sort going on. This place is the last refuge of the soi-disant ‘International Set’. All the fripperies of pre-war luxury living are still in existence here; rich people, idle people, cocktail-parties, dinner parties, jewels and evening dress. Rolls-Royces come purring up to the terrace . . . it [all] felt rather old fashioned and lacking in taste.
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The large department stores Cicurel’s, Chemla’s and Le Salon Vert carried on business as usual and Groppi’s, the most famous café in Cairo, continued to serve its famous coffee accompanied by pastries rich in clarified butter. Even the corner shops of Cairo were packed with goods that had long since been rationed in England; butter, sugar and eggs as well as exotic local produce like oranges, dates, beans, maize and the huge cabbages and cauliflowers that thrived in the Nile Delta. Luxury goods like French wine, grapes, melons, steaks, cigarettes, beer and whisky were all easily obtainable. This abundance was an extraordinary vision of plenty for troops fresh from the desert and used to tinned British Army rations of M&V (meat and veg), fatty bacon, cheese, marmalade and bully beef.
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The Gezira Sporting Club was the focus for many of the social events for officers in wartime Cairo. Given to the British Army by the Pasha of Egypt, the club covered the entire southern end of Gezira Island and boasted gardens, polo fields, a golf course, a race course, cricket pitches, squash and tennis courts, croquet lawns and a lido. At the same time, the Turf Club swarmed with officers and a dozen open-air cinemas showed films every night throughout the city. But the entertainment for which Cairo became infamous during the Second World War was the sex trade.

The brothels in the red-light district of wartime Cairo have become legendary – dens of vice and iniquity providing an extraordinary variety of services for the most diverse taste, from pornographic films and cabarets to peep shows, prostitutes, rent boys and orgies. The majority of brothels were situated along the Wagh el Birket or ‘the Berka’ as it was known – opposite Shepheard’s and the Continental Hotel. Prostitutes called down from hundreds of New Orleans-style balconies that overlooked the long, narrow street, touting for business from below. The incidence of murders and rapes in the area at the time caused such concern that British military police attempted to make the worst districts of the city ‘Out of Bounds to All Ranks’ by putting up circular white signs with a black ‘X’ across them. But with 90,000 clients a month,
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it proved impossible to police the warren of back-streets and alleyways that stretched across the ancient city, and the legend of extraordinary sexual practices – including the spectacle of women copulating with a variety of animals, among them a donkey – continued to lure troops on leave in search of relief, or adventure. Graham Tylee, an army private during this period, offers a first-hand account of Cairo’s vice trade in his memoirs, held in the Imperial War Museum.

Each brothel had a number, some were better patronized than others. Each had a ‘Madame’ in charge of the girls – usually a prostitute who had moved from the bed to the cash desk . . . whoever you went with you still ran the risk of ‘copping a packet’ despite the fact that army doctors regularly inspected the girls. To really lessen the risk of venereal disease it was advisable to visit the PAC (Prophylactic Ablution Centre) and take the necessary precautions, which consisted of squirting a solution of permanganate potash crystals up the penis. After this performance the customer collected a blue ticket on the way out which guaranteed him no loss of pay if he contacted gonorrhea or syphilis. [At the brothel] You went up the stairs and sat down in company with dozens of other customers and sightseers. Each girl had her own gimmick to attract custom. But the best gimmick was youth and beauty. Some girls resorted to particularly perverted practices: others would stand in front of you clad only in transparent nighties and the tiniest bikini briefs which they would pull down a shade to reveal pubic regions completely denuded of hair. [The Berka] was recognized officially by the army authorities but there was another area definitely off limits and this was known as the Black Berka. Once you got off the main streets of Cairo you found yourself in a rabbit warren of narrow streets and dark alleyways where vice in all shapes and forms reigned supreme. The only way into this labyrinth of evil alleyways was with a guide, usually a ragged youngster who furtively tugged at your shirt or pullover, whispering, ‘You want to see exhibish?’ If you were on your own and you had any sense you shook the youngster off or if he was still persistent, you belted him round the ear. For once in the quarter by yourself you stood a very good chance of being robbed and murdered.
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