The Regimentally unique Gulf War British Empire Medal group awarded to Lance Corporal H.P. Dawson, Royal Hussars, later of the 4th/7th Dragoon Guards who having seen service during the troubles in Northern Ireland would go on to be present during the First Gulf War. Dawson would participate in the ground operations that led to the Liberation of Kuwait and describes in detail the combat that ensued, including a friendly fire incident in which a colleague won a Military Medal for pulling a badly wounded Bombardier from a blazing Spartan vehicle and extinguishing his clothes whilst himself burnt. He would further go on to describe the dreadful scenes of the destruction of Iraqi armoured vehicles and other transport on the highway out of Kuwait along with the scenes of the burning oil fields left behind by the fleeing Iraqi. Dawson would be awarded the British Empire Medal in the London Gazette of 29th June 1991 for his services during the operations in the Gulf.
Group of 5: British Empire Medal, EIIR, Military Division; (24144035 L/CPL. HAROLD P. DAWSON, RH). Campaign Service Medal 1962, 1 Clasp: Northern Ireland; (24144035 L/CPL. H.P. DAWSON. 4/7DG.) Gulf Medal 1990-1991, 1 Clasp: 16 JAN TO 28 FEB 1991; (24144035 LCPL H P DAWSON RH). Saudi Arabia - Medal for the Liberation of Kuwait; Kuwait – Liberation of Kuwait Medal, 4th Grade. The first three court-mounted for wear.
Condition: The first three court-mounted for wear, Good Very Fine
Along with:
Buckingham Palace Forwarding Slip for the British Empire Medal named to: ‘Lance Corporal Harold Philip Dawson, B.E.M., The Royal Hussars (Prince of Wales’s Own).
Mounted miniature group comprising of British Empire Medal, EIIR, Campaign Service Medal 1962, 1 Clasp: Northern Ireland; Gulf Medal 1990-1991.
Harold P. Dawson’s service number indicates that he saw service from Late 1968, and he is noted in the 4/7th Royal Dragoon Guards Magazine of 1968 that he was initially serving with A Squadron, Administrative Troop. From 1969 to 1973 he would serve with A Squadron, 4th Troop, before re-enlisting for further service.
He would then be attached to the Admin Troop of A Squadron in 1974, before subsequently serving with D Squadron, Quarter Master Troop. In 1977 he is noted in the Regimental Diary that he was part of the Regimental Light Machine Gun Team with Corporal Davey that won the Lindley Cup at Bisley. Serving with 4/7th Dragoon Guards, he would see service in Northern Ireland during one of their tours in the mid to late 1970s.
Having transferred to the Royal Hussars he would see service during the mid-1980s as a Quarter Master Technician and would spend a good portion of his time in Fallingbostel, Germany. In 1988 He would be attached to the Scots Dragoon Guards with whom he would still be attached at the time of the Gulf War.
Dawson, also a medal collector would write a first hand account of his service in the Gulf which would appear in Medal News Magazine in March 1999 which covers the preparation for the Liberation of Kuwait, and then covers in greater detail the operation itself:
‘…… There followed one night of storms where the wind took down our canvas, then the order to move came, after breakfast, and off we went. Past the French Foreign Legion camp a distant wave greeted us, and we ground slowly onwards. Suddenly a large military policeman slapped on my cab door ‘We’re through, crack on!’. It wasn’t a case of change up and foot down, but a feeling of determination and an urge to get on with it that infiltrated the column. On approaching the Berm there was no lake of blazing oil, artillery, or anything, except for a large sign proclaiming: ‘WELCOME TO IRAQ – COURTESY OF THE BIG RED ONE’ This was placed on the right hand side of the gap next to the lane marker, in our case ‘E’.
The first US Army trucks full of ‘free’ prisoners met us as they headed back towards Saudi, their joyful cargo waving happily at us as we ground on into the thickening gloomy weather, ever forward into Southern Iraq. It got dark early due to the filthy weather, so the Squadron Leader decided to call a quick halt in order to count heads and have a quick brew, then press on. The vicious crack of an anti-personnel mine, followed by screaming, soon put paid to that idea. Another mine, more screams and we were ordered to move on to another position. This had been an unmarked ‘friendly’ minefield dropped by air to catch withdrawing Iraqi troops. I drove past one of the empty pods, lying there like something from another planet. In the darkness and confusion caused by another unit passing through our column, we managed to lose half of the troop, until at first light they appeared with a batch of prisoners. On we went, very weary, but wide awake for any movement from the right, which would herald a break-out of the Republican Guard.
The advance was going at quite a rate. The enemy had been totally surprised by the direction of the invasion. We reached the Wadi-Al-Batin in the afternoon (now a battle honour) and saw the first real evidence of blasted wreckage of Iraqi tanks and trucks, burned tank-crews, fouled trousers and abandoned small kit, the detritus of a smashed army. A short halt was called, and I had quick look at some knocked out tanks, I picked up an instruction book, and a very useful little kit for my truck. Later that afternoon we halted on the edge of a minefield. I prepared a brew and a can of stew on my gas ring.
The first I did on getting down from my cab was to take off my protective overboots and throw them away – my feet were raw. Darkness fell, and our multi-barrel rocket launchers started to work on the Iraqi Brigade to our front. I scrambled onto my cab-roof in order to better see the hell on earth unleased by these things. The noise was uncanny, my hackles rose, as I watched the rockets obliterate everything in their path. ‘Our salve from me launchers nixes a square K’ one of the Royal Artillery men proudly told me. I shuddered at the thought of return fire. The night passed with me slumped over my steering wheel, shoulders draped with an old blanket, sleep was impossible with the inferno going on all around us.
A brew and a biscuit at first light, then move forward in the wake of last nights’s fire and fury. Knocked out tanks and abandoned trucks everywhere. No enemy air, no counterattacks – nothing. The call for a halt came at about 1400 – very welcome. I got down to stretch my legs and have a chat (I was alone in my truck). As I moved forward towards the QM’s rover, to my shock and horror an armour piercing round cracked through our column at windscreen height and off to my right a Royal Artillery air defence unit accompanying us received direct hits on two of their Spartans. One seemed to disgorge burning bodies as I looked. I ran back to my truck to attempt to move it out of the line of fire, but the soft sand and a projectile exploding nearby put an end to my attempt. Abandoning my truck I dived into an old Iraqi shell scrape and took stock. Logically we should very soon come under traversing machine gun fire to destroy our convoy. Challenger engines could be heard. Challenger? Here with us? Had the Republican Guard broken out and were our tanks fighting them? All sorts went through my head in a few seconds: the shocking truth was a ‘blue and blue’. We had been engaged by 4 Brigade. Out of the dust came three tanks. I stayed flat in my hole, I was going to wait for the hatches to pop before I showed myself as I did not relish the idea of being ventilated by an enthusiastic young gunner. Hatch popped ‘I’m terribly sorry’. I looked cautiously out and saw two Iraqis heading towards me. I looked for my gun – it was still on the truck. I had grabbed a spade and gas-mask on fleeing to the shellscape. Quick dash to the truck, grabbed my loaded gun, and saw that the two enemy appeared to be unarmed. Both were wounded, so I sent them on to our aid-post. We had moved so fast that 4 Brigade could not believe that we were as far as we were.
It was during this incident that L/Cpl. K.M.S. Reid, R.E.M.E. won the Military Medal for his bravery in rescuing the vehicle commander of the blazing Spartans. An extract from his citations reads:
‘Although his first attempt to free Bombardier York failed, he ignored the rapidly growing flames and fought on to release him. Despite intense danger to his own life, Lance Corporal Reid managed to drag Bombardier York from the vehicle, and using his own hands, extinguished Bombardier York’s burning clothes. He then dragged Bombardier York out of the line of fire and arranged for his evacuation. Only then did Lance Corporal Reid have his own burns attended to.’
Badly shaken, we moved on. Luckily the action had not been too disastrous, the injuries were bad enough, as was the loss of two AFV’s.
Night fell as we approached Kuwait, gunfire could be heard all around us, and I and everyone else were absolutely exhausted, but wide awake waiting for the attack from the right. It was never to materialise but the ‘blue on the blue’ had jangled everyone’s nerves.
A halt was called, I dug my scrape and went over to the office trailer to see what was going down. Gunfire was ongoing and the weather miserable.
‘Lay down 10 to the CV, H and take young Mel to cover you.’
Not very impressed, I shouldered the roll of telephone cable, slung my sub machine over my chest and telling young Mel to keep at least three metres behind me we set off. I told Mel that if I trod on anything to go back in his tracks and get help. Grenades detonating to my left indicated where our infantry were clearing bunkers and on we trudged. A flare went up ‘OmiGod freeze’ but it died out with no accompanying burst of fire.
We were challenged by the RA picket who told me I was crazy, the area hadn’t been cleared for mines, and the CV was broken down in Iraq! Roll the cable up again and back we went, where I wasted no time in expressing my feelings about the wild goose chase we had just performed. I then retired to my wagon-cab to try to snatch some precious sleep. The day broke, the bogey men had fled, and at 8am local: cease-fire. Burnt out tanks and smouldering positions around us told their own mute story; and a shot of illegal ‘grouse’ from the QM (T) warmed the inner man, to be followed by a cracking cooked breakfast – the first prepared meal for three days. No-one had told the local Iraqis about the cease fire though. So we carried on as before, and we rolled on into Kuwait in a developing sand-storm, flying the Union Flag, and the Cross of Saint Andrew in case the 4 Brigade boys took a fancy to us again! An Iraqi armoured vehicle attached itself to us, having surrendered and motored with us to Kuwait, its cannon still loaded.
The gravel pits north of the city were our final stop, where we set up our position for the last time. The first thing I did was sleep for 14 hours solid, then up and sorted out my belongings, a good clean up and wash everything. At this stage we were ordered to rig camouflage nets (they had been stowed as a fire risk during the action, and had no practical use at all). Why now? Because the press might see all our washing hanging out to dry! Oil-wells blazing at night, sooty smoke, yapping packs of stray dogs deeding on the dead on the highway killed trying to flee with their loot from Kuwait. John Major visited us but he couldn’t throw any light on when we could go home.
‘H, You, Trapper and the EQ fly back tomorrow – I am at the airstrip’ March 11, saw us waiting in the open desert for s Hercules aircraft of the Royal Air Force. Two ground crews had taken our details, and we sat awaiting the arrival of our lift to Saudi, then home. Bang on time the plane landed in a blast of propwash, turned and opening its rear doors and ramp paused for just long enough for us all to pile in, double the normal capacity, and up we went. That was the last experience for me of the Gulf War.
Dawson would receive the British Empire Medal in the London Gazette of 29th June 1991 for his services during the operations in the Gulf, the only member of the Royal Hussars to receive the award for service during this conflict.
Dawson died on 7th September 2003.
