The BBC’s SAS: Rogue Heroes, Steven Knight’s adrenaline-soaked WWII saga that stormed screens in 2022 and returned for a second series in January 2025, has reignited a decades-old inferno over its depiction of founding member Paddy Mayne – the Irish rugby titan turned SAS legend whose “fearless hero and volatile rogue” duality, embodied by Jack O’Connell’s brooding bravado, has family and historians howling foul. Mayne, Lieutenant-Colonel Robert Blair “Paddy” Mayne, was the 6’3″ Newtownards powerhouse who helped birth the SAS in 1941, leading desert raids that destroyed over 100 Axis aircraft and earning the DSO with three bars – yet controversially denied the Victoria Cross (VC), a snub King George VI lamented as “so strangely eluded him.” The drama’s portrayal – a whiskey-fueled whirlwind of brawls, bear hugs, and battlefield brilliance – has drawn daggers from descendants: “He’s not the borderline psychopath depicted,” biographer Gavin Mortimer thundered to The Guardian on September 26, 2025, slamming the show’s reliance on David Stirling’s “self-serving” spin. “Mayne was thoughtful, calculated – a lawyer-poet who cared for his men, not a chaotic drunk.”
The controversy’s core? Calculated chaos: O’Connell’s Mayne, a “subversive and frequently drunk warrior-poet” who wrenches out cockpit controls and waltzes with Mafia molls, amplifies the myth of the “reckless rogue” – a narrative Mortimer’s The Phoney Major (2024) debunks as Stirling’s smoke screen to steal the spotlight. “Stirling twisted the truth to suit his ego – Mayne was the real architect,” Mortimer argues, citing Mayne’s 1943 Sicily command and 1945 Oldenburg heroism (rescuing pinned SAS from ambush, earning a fourth DSO instead of VC). The family? Fuming: Mayne’s niece, Mary Wright, blasted the BBC to BBC News in January 2025: “Saddened by the portrayal of the most famous WW2 soldier from Newtownards – he was intelligent, from a middle-class family, no more a drunk than his peers.” Knight, Peaky Blinders creator, defended the “liberties” in a Radio Times interview: “It’s drama – Mayne’s exploits defy belief, but we honor the havoc he wrought.” Yet, the VC denial? A venomous vein: Stirling’s “monstrous injustice” claim, backed by King George VI, fuels 2025 campaigns for posthumous award, with 50,000 signatures on a Change.org petition tying the show’s “overdone” antics to the oversight.
The legacy’s labyrinth? Legendary: Mayne, pre-war Irish rugby Lion (1938 tour) and boxing champ, joined No. 11 Scottish Commando before Stirling recruited him for the “Parachute Unit” (SAS precursor). His feats? Fantastical: 1941’s Tamet raid (destroying 24 planes), 1942’s Benghazi blaze (fuel dumps aflame), a 1945 ditch rescue under fire. Off-duty? The “brawls and booze” – punching officers, pub punch-ups – but biographers like Damien Lewis (Churchill’s Band of Brothers, 2021) paint a “methodical mastermind” who “thought risks through,” not the “psycho” the show savors. O’Connell’s “perfect” Paddy – “annoying speeches” and “unconventional training” – drew Reddit rants (43 comments: “Overdid the drunkiness”), but the actor defended: “He’s a whirlwind – hero with heart.”
This isn’t historical hit; it’s a heritage hurricane, SAS Rogue Heroes‘ Mayne a mirror to myth’s mess. The VC? Vacant, vexing. The portrayal? Polarizing. September 26? Not critique – a clarion call. Fans? Fractured. The rogue’s reality? Resurrected. Knight’s knight? Knighted in controversy. Mayne’s mantle? Mighty, marred. The drama? Defiant. The debate? Daring. The legacy? Luminous – or lost?
