Vladimir “Popski” Peniakoff
On September 3, 1943, General Bernard L. Montgomery’s British 8thArmy prepared to assault Italy.
The vanguard of the 8th was a curious outfit known as “Popski’s Private Army.” Its leader was the overweight, balding, forty-six-year old Vladimir Peniakoff, a Belgian with Russian origins. His unit’s mission: infiltrate behind German lines and determine the enemy’s formations and strengths.
During WWI, he had enlisted as artillery private in the French Army. He was badly wounded and was invalided out of the service.
Between the wars, he moved to Cairo, Egypt and operated a sugar business. He fell in love with the trackless desert and spent hours driving around the wasteland in an old, indestructible Model A Ford he affectionately nicknamed “Pisspot.”
When WWII broke out, and the British were dueling Italian forces in the Libyan Desert, Peniakoff rushed to Monty’s HQ in Cairo and volunteered to fight. Although desperate for bodies, they took one look at the middle-aged prospect and said, “No, thanks.”
Not to be deterred, he found a sympathetic medical officer who “tweaked” his records, turning him into a rugged specimen. It didn’t hurt that Peniakoff spoke Italian and Arabic fluently and knew the North African desert like the back of his hand. That did the trick. He was commissioned a second lieutenant.
Because HQ had trouble spelling his name, he became popularly known as “Popski.” His fluency in Arabic earned him the job of organizing the Senussi tribesmen into a behind-the-lines combat force. He threw himself into the job and soon had an intelligence network operational. He was also able to glean useful intel from the Arabs who worked as servants in the Italian HQ and mess halls. They hated the Italians who treated them with contempt.
Popski led nighttime raids to blow up Italian ammo and fuel dumps in the venerable Pisspot. She eventually broke down and went on to Model A heaven. Popski gave her complete burial rites in the desert.
In 1942, he was called to HQ in Cairo and instructed to form the “Number One Long Range Demolition Squadron,” a company sized (130-150 men) team of British Special Forces. His unit was soon known as “Popski’s Private Army.”
The Private Army was outfitted with jeeps with mounted machine guns. Its mission: roam behind the enemy’s lines, gather intel, blow up installations, ambush small units and generally raise hell.
When Monty’s spearheads hit the beaches in southern Italy, Popski and his men were in the vanguard, infiltrating enemy lines and capturing a commercial central telephone exchange. He gave himself a phony name and the rank of an Italian colonel. He used the exchange to speak to various Italian units, giving them bogus orders, asking pointed questions and receiving detailed top-secret info in return.
Dressed in a dress uniform of an Italian colonel, he infiltrated German HQ and located top-secret info on the location of a crack German parachute unit.
Popski’s team continued to spearhead Monty’s advance up “the Boot,” causing havoc behind the German lines with his patented hit and run tactics.
Halfway up the “boot” of Italy, his luck ran out. In a firefight with determined Germans, his left hand was shot off. After a few days in the hospital and over the objections of the medical staff, he checked himself out and rejoined his Private Army.
The steel hook he wore didn’t slow him down. “Hell, I can shoot as well with one hand as two,” he said.
Age is mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. Raise a glass to a man’s man, “Colonel Popski.”
