It looked for all the world like a small flashlight or a length of pipe work, 7 in of matte dark metal with a rounded knob on one end and a strap to secure it to the wrist.
Anyone spotting it peeking from beneath a sleeve would assume it was some tradesman’s tool, perhaps something an electrician carried in his hand.
They would be mistaken.
Concealed inside that unremarkable cylinder were three lethal implements.
a lead weighted kosh capable of smashing a skull.
Roughly two feet of piano wire gar able to strangle a man in seconds and a springbiased stiletto that snapped into place at the flick of a wrist.
Three methods of killing married inside a single device.
Collecting records imply only a couple of dozen were ever made.
This is the tale of the Mclaglin Pescuit closed combat device, one of S SOE’s most peculiar multi-purpose weapons of the Second World War.
1941, Britain stood physically alone against Nazi Germany.
The Vermacht had overrun France in 6 weeks.
Norway lay occupied.
The low countries had fallen.
Greece and Yugoslavia had collapsed beneath the Blitz Creek.
From the Arctic to the Mediterranean, German centuries kept watch on bridges, on rail junctions, at ammunition dumps, and beside coastal radar stations.
Thousands of targets were protected by hundreds of thousands of soldiers who had to be neutralized quietly if British saboturs were to operate successfully.
In London, a new organization was learning to make that happen.
The special operations executive sE was founded in July 1940 with a tur instruction from Winston Churchill.
Set Europe ablaze.
That meant large-scale sabotage.
It meant forging resistance networks from nothing.
It meant turning civilians into saboturs and teaching them how to kill when required.
It also meant perfecting ways to kill without sound.
The tactical problem S SOE faced was uncompromising.
How do you remove a sentry without alerting anyone within earshot? A firearm, even one with a silencer, transmitted noise and risked setting off alarms.
A brawl might give a guard the chance to shout, to fire his rifle, to summon reinforcements.
The kill had to be immediate, noless, and certain.
Existing implements solved parts of this problem.
The famous Fairbar Sykes fighting knife, the product of William Fairbar and Eric Sykes brutal lessons policing Shanghai, excelled at the close, precise thrust, a gleaming double-edged blade some 7 and 1/2 in in length that could be driven between ribs to reach the heart.
Fairbon taught the method.
Approach from behind, clamp a hand over nose and mouth, thrust upward into thoracic organs or across the throat.
But a knife demanded closing to arms length.
If the first plunge failed or the guard twisted, the attacker faced a trained soldier armed with a rifle.
The garat offered another option.
A loop of cord or wire slipped behind the neck and pulled tight, strangling silently and brutally.
Once tightened, consciousness might fade in perhaps 10 to 15 seconds, a span long enough to deny an audible cry.
But the garat required being behind the victim.
A sudden turn could leave the strangler in a hopeless struggle against a rifleman.
The kosh, a weighted bludgeon, had long been used by police.
A leather bag filled with shot or a short metal baton wrapped in tape swung hard into the temple or base of the skull could render a man unconscious with one blow.
But a stunned man could revive and shout, or a strike might merely daz the target rather than disable it, producing groans or convulsions that drew attention.
Because of this, many operatives carried all three.
A Fairbear Sykes on the belt, a garat in a pocket, a kosh up the sleeve.
But in the volatile confusion of a night raid, reaching for the right instrument could cost crucial seconds.
A century might turn.
A patrol schedule might shift.
A dog might bark.
Hesitation meant discovery.
And discovery in hostile territory usually meant death.
Two men believed they could provide a better solution.
John Edward Pescuit, who in 1938 had become managing director of Cogwell and Harrison Ltd, one of London’s oldest and most respected gun makers, had access to superior manufacturing skill.
Cogwell and Harrison, established in 1770 at Piccadilly, produced fine shotguns and had long supplied military contracts.
When secrecy and precision were essential, the firm could deliver work few others could match.
His partner in the project was a more colorful character, Sydney Temple Leupold McGlaglin.
Born 1884 in Stephanie and brother of the Hollywood star Victor McLaglin, Sydney styled himself a world jiujitsu champion after a 1907 contest in London, published combat manuals, and taught bayonet and unarmed fighting methods for commandos and homeg guard units during the war.
His past carried controversy.
Critics accused him of embellishing credentials, but his combat theories attracted attention.
For wartime planners, his unorthodox thinking about intimate killing was useful enough to attach his name to a classified weapon project.
Together, the precision craftsman and the self-styled fighting master pursued an audacious grief.
A single wristmounted device combining a kosh, a garat, and a dagger.
A multi-function weapon an operative could deploy instantly in any close quarters situation.
The official British patent GB559747A filed 10 August 1942 described improvements in or relating to close combat weapons.
Clinically noting the combination of a dagger and a strangulation cord with a bludgeoning element.
Clinical language for a bloody instrument intended to kill silently at intimate range.
Surviving examples and auction descriptions outline the finished device.
In its closed state, it measured roughly 7 in, about the length from wrist to fingertip.
With the blade extended, it reached about 12 and 1/4 in.
The cylindrical body parkerized to avoid moonlit glints measured roughly 5 and 5/8 in in length and a maximum diameter of 7/8 of an inch.
Collector records list the overall mass around 500 to 600 g.
Heavy enough to deliver a powerful blow, yet light enough to be worn on the forearm for extended periods without excessive fatigue.
At one end sat the Kosh mechanism, a cast lead and steel ball about 1 and 3/8 in in diameter, rotatably mounted at top the tube.
Concentrated mass at the sphere’s end yielded serious striking power when swung downward.
The ball also played a mechanical role.
Internally, it wound and unwound the garat line stored inside the device.
Surviving descriptions suggest about 2 ft of piano wire coiled on an internal spindle beneath the ball.
Piano wire chosen for its high tensil strength and minimal stretch.
One end of the wire was secured inside the body.
The other emerged through a small aperture near the top and terminated in a ring grip for the finger.
To deploy the wire, the operator loosened a set screw beneath the ball, drew the free end to its full length, looped it around the sentinel’s throat, and tightened by pulling.
Rewinding was achieved by rotating the ball to wind the wire back onto its spindle.
The knife was housed at the opposite end, a 5 and 1/2 in stiletto, spike shaped and optimized for thrust rather than cutting, nested in the hollow tube.
Deployment was governed by a spring-loaded lateral arm.
A sidemounted button released the arm.
A shake of the wrist allowed gravity to push the blade down and out, locking it into place with an audible click.
This gravity actuated deployment ensured the knife would extend reliably in wet conditions, in darkness, or when hands were slick with blood.
In short, when mechanical dependability was most required.
The whole rig fastened to the forearm by a stout webbed strap and split ring concealed beneath a jacket sleeve.
It offered instant access irrespective of what the operative carried in his hands.
The design intended that no matter how comprehensively searched, the device could remain on the body ready to employ.
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Now back to the McGlaglin Pescuits development and how it performed.
Work on the concept began circa 1941, an early prototype emerged before the patent filing.
An example that surfaced at auction in 2022 with Providence pointing to Wilkinson’s sword’s tool room revealed practical flaws that had to be corrected before any production run.
The prototypes striking ball lacked sufficient mass for effective Kosh action.
Strike energy depends on mass and velocity.
Reduce the mass and you must compensate with a longer swing to achieve similar impact, which invites reaction from the target.
The blade on this early piece measured only about 3 in, too short to guarantee a lethal thrust comparable to the Fair Baron Sykes 7 1/2 in reach.
Most critically, the Gat spool was undized.
The wire kinkedked where it wound too tightly around a small diameter reel, creating stress concentrations that could snap under load.
A catastrophic failure if the strangulation line broke during use.
Pescuits craftsmen at Cogwell and Harrison addressed these faults in the production iteration.
They enlarged and weighted the ball for greater impact, extended the stiletto to a combat effective 5 1/2 in, and redesigned the internal spindle to a larger diameter to reduce bending stresses on the garage wire.
Auction cataloges and specialist literature consistently remark on the extremely limited production.
Most experts estimate only around two dozen units were made.
Some extent specimens bear stamped markings and serals, sometimes noting patent pending.
One lot reportedly included a strap with markings some collectors read as linking the item to the first special service brigade, though such assignments require independent verification.
Intended users included SOE operatives and after US entry into the war, OSS counterparts.
Some sources tie the device to the first special service force, the Anglo-American Devil’s Brigade, famed for operations in Italy and southern France.
The weapon was issued with its forearm strap and a special belt scabbard, allowing covert carriage beneath clothing for immediate employment.
Here the record turns puzzling.
No confirmed account of the McGlaglin Pescuit’s use in active operations has been located in SOE mission reports, veterans memoirs, or afteraction files that are publicly accessible.
The pieces appear in museum showcases and collectors cataloges rather than in combat narratives.
Robert G.
Seagull in small arms review offered a blunt appraisal.
There is no evidence they were ever used operationally or credited with kills.
While they were bought and possibly issued, Seagull suggested they might have functioned more often as curios or souvenirs than as practical service items.
Why did this singularly inventive device fail to see significant field use? Several factors explain its marginal status.
Scarcity was immediate.
With perhaps only 20 odd units built, the weapon could not possibly equip more than a handful of agents across SOE and OSS, organizations that deployed thousands worldwide.
Timing mattered as well.
By the time the patent emerged publicly in March 1944, SOE had already settled on a familiar and trusted set of implements.
The Fairbar Sykes dagger, conventional Gats, the well-rod suppressed pistol, and other proven methods.
Introducing an unfamiliar multi-function instrument midconlict offered dubious advantage over established kit that operators already trusted.
The devices’s inherent compromises also weakened its case.
Merging three separate tools into a single instrument meant each individual function was inferior to a purpose-built counterpart.
The weighted ball could not match a proper blackjack’s balance.
The stiletto at 5 1/2 in was thinner and less robust than the Fairbear Sykes.
The Gat’s internal spool and short lever arms could not provide the same mechanical advantage as a dedicated strangulation cord with handles.
One historian argued another practical concern.
The Mclaglin Pescuit’s unique, unmistakable design would have identified its bearer as a specialist assassin if discovered.
Unlike a standard fighting knife, which might plausibly be accepted as normal military gear, this odd wrist device would instantly mark someone for severe interrogation by the Gestapo.
Germany produced no real analog.
Their multi-function close combat concepts were limited.
Falm Jagger gravity knives served primarily as folding utility blades for paratroopers.
Ceremonial SS and SA daggers existed, but not tactical clandestine multi-tools.
American approaches took different routes.
The V42 Stiletto issued to the first Special Service Force, was an excellent fighting knife, but purely a knife.
The Sedgley OSS glove pistol, a singleshot 38 device strapped to the hand, manifested American ingenuity, but proved unwieldy.
Only a handful were made.
Against such contemporaries, the McGlaglin Pescuit offered novelty but limited comparative advantage.
Meanwhile, other SOE innovations did demonstrate operational value.
The Fairbar Sykes dagger gained legendary status and remains a ceremonial item in Royal Marines and the Commandos.
The well-rod suppressed pistol devised at station 9 achieved genuinely silent effectiveness with confirmed employment from Norway to Burma.
Exotic tools like explosive rats and disguised coal bombs proved superbly effective when used in sabotage missions.
By contrast, the Mlaglin peskuit largely vanished when SOE demobilized in January 1946.
Surviving specimens now attract intense collector interest.
A prototype sold at Bishop and Miller in December 2022 for 900, while marked production examples appear in specialist markets in the mid thousands of dollars.
With perhaps two dozen built and an uncertain number remaining, authentic examples are among the scarcest Second World War edged weapons.
After the war, Sydney McGlaglin died in Newton Abbott, Devon in 1951.
His wartime contributions slipped into obscurity.
John Pescett remained at Cogwell and Harrison, later repurchasing the firm from Interarm in 1963 and staying until the mid 1960s.
The venerable gun maker continues today, though it no longer produces assassination instruments for intelligence services.
Public exhibition of the McGlaglin Pescuit is limited.
The Secret Army exhibition at Bolu houses one of the better known displays focused on S SOE operations, while the Imperial War Museum maintains extensive S SOE material that includes unusual concealments.
Specialist publications and collector cataloges still dissect the devices’s peculiar place in the history of clandestine warfare.
The Mlaglin Pescuit did not enter post-war service.
British intelligence favored conventional designs and proven suppressed weapon concepts for the Cold War era.
The 3in-1 notion produced no direct descendants in mainstream service smallarms.
It remained a singular experiment, an idea explored and then largely abandoned.
7 in of dark metal, three methods to kill, perhaps two dozen ever made.
No documented kill credited to it.
And yet, the McGlaglin Peskuit matters for what it reveals about Britain’s secret war.
When conventional means proved insufficient, British engineers and craftsmen explored every conceivable solution.
Some of those inventions, the wellrod, explosive decoys, disguised munitions, changed the course of missions.
Others like the Mclaglin Pescuit stayed elegant experiments that failed to become mainstream.
Still, the device survives as a testament to creative desperation and the darker ingenuity of total war.
A compact cylinder strapped to a wrist, hiding three lethal tools.
It may never have taken a life, yet it stands as proof of how far Britain’s clandestine engineers were willing to go in pursuit of silent, efficient means of killing by any method necessary.
