trawler photos

Even so a wreck is a wreck, and it niggled at me, as I just don’t like NOT knowing. After all, I am supposed to be wreck historian (amateur). I had just made up my mind to devote some time to finding out what trawler it was, when I came across a letter in ‘Diver’ from Karen Williams who basically had done some serious digging and solved the whole problem together with ‘Dive Skipper’ Peter Hambly who owns the dive boat Furious. I am very grateful for their efforts.
It turns out that the wreck is that of a sixty foot shrimp trawler called the Viking Princess (PH407) built around 1960. At some stage she had also been used as a scalloper and was originally named as the Renilde Maartje (RX282) when she was based at Rye and Newhaven.

In the early 1990’s with fishing in serious decline the government decided to reduce the size of the fleet by offering inducements to fishermen to decommission their boats. This meant that they would have to be destroyed. Ten Plymouth trawlers between forty and sixty five feet were designated for decommission and their skippers suggested that they should be sunk in Whitsand Bay to form an artificial reef. This great idea was naturally turned down, so the trawlers were cut up and scrapped. The Viking Princess was partially scrapped in Hooe Lake in 1993 and in 1996, her engines were removed and the top of her bow cut off. She was now approved for decommissioning so in the Autumn of that year she was taken in tow by the Tug Kinsman for her last journey to Galmpton Creek on the River Dart. It wasn’t the best of weather and as the sea became rougher the Viking Princess became overwhelmed and sank where she now lies. So what is she like to dive

The Viking Princess lies more or less upright in about 25 meters . The bottom is predominately rocky with small reefs and some sand patches. The wreck is completely open, so presents no obstacles to a good ferret about. At the stern is what looks like a large propeller guard, but is actually a Kort nozzle which improved the efficiency of the engine when under extreme load during fishing. The wreck is usually swarming with small Pouting and some female cuckoo wrasse, who happily pose for the camera, and under the port side, near the stern, is a nice conger eel. There is not a lot to see, but it is quite photogenic , with the exposed ribs and fish giving you plenty of photo opportunities. Most people use this as a second dive coming back from the Persier, but I prefer it as a first dive, so I can spend plenty of time in the fairy grottoes.

A few years ago I was visiting the British Museum in London when I found that they were having a touchy feely day. This is when the curators get out some of their great treasures and allow members of the public to hold and touch them. One of the objects that I was allowed to hold was a sword from the Sutton Hoo treasure, a vast Anglo Saxon ship burial hoard that had been found encased in an earth mound in Suffolk overlooking the river Deben and the town of Woodbridge.

So what is Sutton Hoo, and how did it come to give up its secrets? At the least, Sutton Hoo is a large burial ground. As far back as the 6th century and probably before, noble and eminent people had been buried in barrows or large earthen mounds, often with their possessions and sometimes with their favorite horse. Many of these mounds can still be seen today although much reduced by the passage of time and agricultural activity. One mound, but not the one with the boat, has been restored to its proper height and so gives a good indication of what the whole site must have looked like.

That the burial was discovered at all was down to the enthusiasm of the landowner, Mrs. Edith Pretty. Inspired by a recent trip to Egypt she came back full of curiosity about what was in the barrows. She thought there might be something historically interesting buried in them but was completely unprepared for what was eventually found, a wonderful funnery treasure, complete with a 27 meter, long ship. It was one of the greatest discoveries ever found in England.

It is generally agreed that the person occupying the burial long ship was Raedwald, a 7th century King of East Anglia, which today would have included the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk. He reigned from 599 till his death in 624 and from about 616 he was the most powerful of the English kings south of the River Humber. Raedwald was the first East Anglian King to convert to Christianity, although he still kept a temple to the Old Gods, and the Venerable Bede mentions him as the fourth ruler to hold Imperium over other southern Anglo Saxon Kingdoms. The Anglo Saxon Chronicle, written centuries after his death refer to him as a Bretwalda, an Old English term meaning Britain Ruler or Wide Ruler.

In order to get the dig started Mrs. Pretty asked Guy Maynard the Curator of Ipswich Museum for advice and he referred her to Basil Brown an archeologist familiar with the area. After much discussion it was decided to dig in Mound 3, even though Mrs. Pretty herself favored Mound 1. Because there was so much earth to be moved Mrs. Pretty volunteered the services of her gardener, John Jacobs, and her gamekeeper William Spencer. Even with the three of them the task was enormous. The mound was 25 meters wide and nearly 1.5 meters high. Basil started by digging an exploratory trench from west to east and when he got to the center of the mound he dug down 2 meters and came across the remains of a human skeleton and the bones of a horse together with axes and a jug. That was all they found in the rest of the mound, but Basil was interested enough to have a go at Mound 2. Here he carried out more or less the same methods and again digging down near the center he found a Saxon grave that had been ransacked with all the objects removed. The grave robbers had made a complete mess of the tomb and the incumbent had disappeared. Even so Basil Brown found some silver shield adornments and bits of silver gilt for horn cup decorations, as well as a blue glass jar and a couple of iron blades.

Undaunted Basil still toiled on and excavated Mound 4. This was the most disappointing one yet. All he found were some cremated bones and some bronze fragments together with some material of good quality which indicated that the tomb had been intended for somebody of high standing. Later studies of the bones showed that they were of a young adult and a horse.

By now it was 1939 and war clouds were gathering ominously over England. As the summer approached, Basil Brown realized that with a War imminent Mound 1 needed to be excavated, and the work would have to be done quickly. Mrs. Pretty, for her part had always wanted to see what was in Mound 1 so she was happy to once again sponsor the dig.

Once again Basil used the same methods that had served him well with the other mounds. Very soon he discovered an iron rivet and thought idly that this might indicate a Saxon ship buried in the mound. Happily he moved methodically towards the center and after only two hours he found himself removing earth from what looked like the bow or stern of a ship. This is the moment that Basil Brown came into his own and frankly saved this great find from being completely ruined. Basil has often been depicted as a plodding amateur, using archeological techniques that nowadays would be treated with contempt by the experts. However he was very methodical and what’s more had great experience of the area and was very conversant with the effects of sandy acid soils on bio-degradable materials such as those to be found at Sutton Hoo. Because of this knowledge he quickly realized that none of the wood had survived the centuries, but what had survived were their imprint and the rivets that had held it all together, they were still in their original places.

With much painstaking work, gently removing the top layer of soil and following the lines of rivets, the full wonder of the ship became apparent. The timbers had rotted, and the by the process of oxidization had diffused into the sand creating a sort of fossilized cast that virtually showed the complete construction of the ship which appeared to be what we would know today as clinker built with the planks overlapped and riveted. The vessel had 26bulkheads and was over 27 meters long with a beam of 4.5 meters. A later survey suggested that the ship had been propelled by 40 oarsmen, 20 on each side. Because of its shallow draft it was assumed that the boat would have been used to carry goods along rivers and estuary’s rather than longer sea crossings, as fully laden it would have had hardly any freeboard and therefore would have been unseaworthy and difficult to handle in rough seas. There were also signs that repairs had been made to the hull, so this ship was not purpose built as a burial ship, but rather used for that purpose as necessary.

As the dig progressed poles were placed on top of the mound over the ship, so that Basil could work from a swing, thus avoiding damaging the ship. As they finished with one part of the ship, Basil and his helpers, recovered it with a layer of sand. As the ship became more and more uncovered, and the excavation approached the center of the mound, Basil came across signs of an earlier excavation. Here the refilled pit had only gone down 3 meters and Basil calculated that it had not reached the ship. For the first time Basil Brown allowed himself to contemplate the possibility that he might find a completely undisturbed burial chamber.

As the year turned to June and Basils methodical approach uncovered more and more of the ship, he must have been thinking endlessly about the burial chamber, and it is to his credit that he didn’t give in to temptation and rush straight for the prize. Unfortunately he was about to be robbed of the opportunity to find what he had strived for. By now word had leaked out about the Sutton Hoo ship and Guy Maynard the Curator from Ipswich decided that the dig should be put on a more academic footing. A team of leading archeologists led by Stuart Piggott were drafted in, and although Basil was retained, he was basically sidelined and left to do the donkey work while the experts got on with the detailed work. When it came to the burial chamber and all the other artifacts that were found, Basil Brown was forbidden to touch or remove any of them. This seems a bit harsh to me. Whilst it is true that Brown did not have the expertise to do the more delicate work and to take the excavation much further it must have hurt him deeply, especially as it was his knowledge and care that had led to the boat being discovered in the first place.

The burial chamber, situated between bulkheads 10 and 16 would have possibly had some sort of wooden roof over them to form a small cabin. In here would have been laid the King and his treasure. In the event all the wood and bones had rotted and oxidized into the soil so the shape of the chamber was hard to define, but there between bulkheads 10 and 16 was found the personal belongings of a very important person, King Raedwald. As the summer progressed and the outbreak of War came ever closer, all the finds were taken away to be put in storage for safe keeping. The site was recovered and as War became a reality research into Sutton Hoo tailed off. Many of the records and photographs were destroyed in the London Blitz, and because East Anglia was so flat, trenches were dug all over the place to deter German glider attacks. It seems impossible now, but two glider ditches were dug right through the Sutton Hoo site. Even more incredible, is the fact that the burial mounds were used for mortar practice. Well there was a War on, you know.

Amazingly after the War, and eight years since the treasure was uncovered, the site had survived well enough for the British Museum to send down a team under Bruce Mitford. He was even more methodical than Basil Brown had been, and wrote many books on the subject, some casting doubt on what the other experts had found. Even today that argument is ongoing. However one thing is very clear to me. Without Basil Brown and the enthusiasm of Mrs. Pretty, nothing would have been done. They discovered the ship. You can’t argue with that.

So who owned all the artifacts, and how did the ship get into the mound? Well the ship appears to have been dragged up the valley from the River Deben. That must have taken many men and a huge amount of effort. The ship was then buried with the King and a large mound raised over it. The artifacts were awarded to Mrs. Pretty as they were not considered to be Treasure Trove (the law can be very complex on this issue) The academics were dumbstruck as they thought they should have them. In the event Mrs. Pretty donated the whole lot to the Nation and gave Sutton Hoo to the National Trust so that you can visit it today.

What’s there? Well, earth covered burial mounds, and a lot of sheep, set in wonderful picturesque countryside overlooking the River Deben. You can also wander around Mrs. Pretty’s house, and see Basil Brown’s work room. It all sounds a bit tame, but it really is a great day out. The National Trust has done a great job with the interpretation center and has had some wonderful replicas made of the treasure. Mind, you ought to go to see the real thing at the British Museum. Also it is very atmospheric to walk in the footsteps of those far off Kings, along land that hardly seems to have changed down the centuries. To see their burial mounds is quite comforting, as it gives a sense of timeless continuity,that in some way, seems to be so typically British.

There is a great progam by the BBC called Chronicle, which did a program on Sutton Hoo in 1989. it is well worth watching. Just click the link below.

Chronicle/Sutton Hoo

How to get to Sutton Hoo

The Empire Harry was a deep sea tug of some 479 gross tonnage. Built in 1943 by the Goole Shipbuilding and Repair company, the Empire Harry was 136 feet long and about 30 feet in the beam. Although owned by the Ministry of War Transport, she was operated by the United Towing Company, and on the 6 of June 1945 she was towing two heavily laden lighters across Bigbury bay when she became caught up in a severe south westerly gale. With the two heavy lighters acting as a sort of reverse drogue, the tug could hardly make any seaway. So slowly at first, but then with increasing speed the Empire harry began to lose ground as the fierce winds started to blow her towards the shore.

The nineteen men on board could see no way to escape. All they could do was hang on, and hope that the Lifeboat got to them before the coast did. In the event the coast won, and the Empire Harry struck the ridge of rocks that jut out from Beacon Point. Fortunately the Salcombe lifeboat got to the tug shortly after and successfully rescued all nineteen crew just in the nick of time as the two lighters were smashed to pieces and their contents were scattered underneath the cliffs from Warren Point to Hope Cove. Soon after the Empire Harry was declared a total loss and started to break up, and her wreckage joined that of the lighters underneath the cliffs.

I first stumbled upon this wreck with my young son Christopher nearly thirty years ago. We had taken a walk along the beach towards beacon point so he could try his luck at scrambling over the steep high rocks that surround the wreck. It is only a few hundred yards from the beach but it’s quite hard going and the first thing he found was the gun mounting turned upside down on the rocks. This caused me a bit of a stir as usually tugs are not armed, but this one was, with what seems to be a four inch or 4.5 inch gun. The gun was situated towards the rear of the tug, and I suppose that with the Second World War just ending they had not got around to dismantling it.

All around were bits of metal, and inside a nearby cave, we could just make out the barrel of the gun almost buried in shingle and rocks. Over the next few years it became completely buried and lost from view and that the way I thought it would stay, until in 2010 mark ---- sent me this great photo . He had been out walking during the early summer and stumbled upon the barrel which had been moved right out of the cave by the storms. When my son had found the mounting we both climbed up on top of it and I saw the remains of the boiler far out on the edge of the rocks. The gullies leading out from the beach to the boiler were full of bits of metal all smashed up and jammed in the rocks but bollards, pieces of scupper and parts of a winch are all quite recognisable.

I was going to describe this wreck as a shore dive, but after trying it once or twice, I must say it’s a bit too much like hard work. Anyway lugging a tank is really not necessary as a snorkel at low tide will suffice just as well. Entry from the beach is very easy and all you have to do is follow the rocks that lead out to the tip of Beacon Point. It is not a very long swim to the boiler, about 200 yards and if you get tired you can easily rest on the rocks. Wreckage is strewn in most of the gullies leading out to the boiler, largely consisting of the stern and pieces of the superstructure, these are smashed to small pieces now, but bollards, pieces of scupper and parts of a which are quite recognisable, as is the gun mounting which was situated at the aft end of the tug and is now wedged and stove in at the bottom of the cliffs. It seems surprising to think of a gun mounted on a tug, but then the Second World War had only just ended and I suppose that they had not got around to dismantling it.

So there it is, the wreck of the Empire Harry. Not one of the greatest dives, but certainly a pretty one. It’s easy to access at low tide so it makes it a wreck that all the family can enjoy, weather they are divers or not. With the acres of sandy beach surrounded by a genuine Devon fishing village,Ithink that your family will actually encourage you to go diving instead of moaning about it.

Originally she was to have had sixteen, six inch guns, in quadruple turrets, which was the maximum allowed under the terms of the ‘Washington Treaty’. Unfortunately it was found to be impossible to manufacture an effective quadruple gun mounting due to ballistic problems with the ammunition, so they reverted to triple mountings that were already in use on other Southampton cruisers. The extra space was later filled up with anti aircraft guns, and for a short time she had a small seaplane to help with spotting the enemy. Radar later made this obsolete

Belfast was built, appropriately at the great Belfast shipyard of Harland and Wolf (home to the Titanic), and was launched on 17 march 1938. Ironically this great warship was launched by Anne Chamberlain, the wife of The Prime Minister Neville, famous for his speech about ‘peace in our time’. The following year War broke out and Belfast became part of the 18th Cruiser Squadron operating from the Royal Navy’s great anchorage at Scapa Flow in the Orkneys.

The Royal Navy was trying to impose a blockade on Germany to stop it receiving’ war materials’ and constantly patrolled the Northern waters. An early success came when the Belfast intercepted the German liner S.S. Cape Norte, disguised as a neutral ship. She was full of armed forces reservists trying to get back to Germany to rejoin their units. Shortly after this success, came disaster, when Belfast hit a mine off the Firth of Forth. Mercifully casualties were slight but the ship broke her back and was so severely damaged that she seemed destined for the scrap heap. However naval architects were convinced that she could be repaired but it took nearly three years before she was ready to rejoin the Fleet. During her repairs she had been completely refitted with all the latest gear, including radar and a much improved fire control system and by the time she returned to active duty she was the most powerful cruiser in the Fleet.

In 1943 she spent most of her time in the icy waters of the Artic as part of the 10th Cruiser Squadron, protecting convoys taking vital supplies to Russia. At the end of that year, on Christmas Day 1943 the German battleship Scharnhorst accompanied by her escort of five destroyers, swept out into the north Cape to attack the convoys rounding the northern tip of Norway. Unknown to her captain, British Intelligence were deciphering all her signals which enabled the Royal navy to lay a trap for her. Whilst Belfast along with the cruisers Norfolk and Sheffield screened the convoys and thereby kept Scharnhorst in action, Admiral Frazer, in the battleship Duke of York, accompanied by the cruisers Jamaica and four destroyers tried to cut her off from the South.

Meanwhile, due to the extreme weather, Scharnhorst had sent her destroyers back to base and came across the British cruisers. Norfolk struck first with a direct hit from one of her eight inch shells causing Scharnhorst to retreat with Belfast and Sheffield in hot pursuit driving the enemy battleship towards Admiral Frazer’s Duke of York with her mighty fourteen inch guns. As soon as radar contact was established the Duke of York opened fire and hit the Scharnhorst with her first salvo. Severely damaged the Scharnhorst tried to flee but could not shake off the British vessels. Now hit by three torpedoes, the Scharnhorst was dead in the water and as the smoke cleared away Belfast and Jamaica were ordered to finish her. As the Belfast fired the Scharnhorst blew up and quickly sank into the icy waters. Of her crew of 1,963 men only 36 were saved.

In March 1944, Belfast in company with a powerful force of Battleships and Carriers took part in ‘Operation Tungsten’. Their objective was the destruction of the Tirpitz, Germany’s last surviving battleship, which was holed up in Altenfjord in Northern Norway. Approaching to within 120 miles of the coast they launched a huge airstrike hitting the Tirpitz with 15 bombs. The battleship survived but was so badly damaged that it could not put to sea for many months. She was finally destroyed by heavy bombers from 617 Squadron R.A.F. in November 1944.
On June 6th 1944 the D-Day landings started, with Belfast in the thick of the action as part of a Naval bombardment in support of the Canadians on Gold and Juno beaches. Over the course of the next five weeks Belfast fired thousands of rounds, and by July 1945 the Allies had moved well in land, out of the range of the Belfast.

By the time she got there the Atomic Bomb had been dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki and flattened Japan into unconditional surrender. Belfast contented herself with peacekeeping operation and by helping to evacuate the survivors from the prisoner of war camps. By the end of 1947 Belfast returned to England for another refit and when that was finished she went back to the far east as the Flag Ship of the 5th Cruiser Squadron. China was now in great turmoil with the forces of Mao Zedong (he of the little Red Book) in ascendance over the nationalist government. Around this time the Yangtze Incident took place with H.M.S. Amethyst being disabled and blockaded by the Chinese Communists with heavy loss of life. She eventually escaped to win through back to a hero’s welcome in England, but not before she and H.M.S. Belfast had done another job.

By the start of 1950 the ancient kingdom of Korea was split between a hard line Communist regime in the North and a more moderate government supported by the United States of America in the South. The stage was set for another world war but some sort of reason prevailed, even though there was fierce fighting when China invaded, forcing the UN troops to retreat and by the Summer of 1951 both sides had settled down to a war of attrition along the line of the 38th Parallel. After two years of negotiations a Cease fire brought the fighting to an end in July 1953. Even so no formal peace treaty has ever been signed. H.M.S. Belfast was one of the first British ships to go into action bombarding in support of the retreating South Korean and American troops. On the night of 15 July 1952 Belfast teamed up with Amethyst to help capture the strategically important island of Changni-Do. After spending 404 days on active patrol during the Korean War, Belfast sailed for home, where she had another refit and extensive modernisation. Although the day of the big gun was passing, the Navy still needed ‘big’ ships, to show the flag around the world. However as the old Empire disappeared, the need for a large peacetime Navy dwindled. After a last exercise in the Mediterranean in 1963 Belfast was paid off into the Reserve and classified as a harbour accommodation ship.

Thankfully Belfast was to be spared the indignity of the breakers yard, because as early as 1967 the Imperial War Museum had investigated the possibility of preserving the ship. As ever the Government of the day refused to help, so the Museum encouraged an independent trust, led by one of the ship’s ex captains, Rear Admiral Sir Morgan-Giles. Eventually she was brought in triumph to London and opened to visitors on Trafalgar day 21 October 1971.
So what’s it like to visit? Well much to my surprise I loved it. I often find that this sort of exhibit is deadly dull, it’s as if all the life has been sucked out of it, but the Belfast is a revelation in how to do it. The ship itself has been beautifully preserved often with ex crew members helping out and the love shows. For me it was like stepping back in time and all my memories came flooding back.

We spent over two hours there and still didn’t see it all because my wife bulked at climbing down into the engine room, which I must admit looked quite a long way down, so I saved it for another day. In the various parts of the ship, like the galley and hospital, they have very realistic dummies illustrating what’s going on, and quite often you see visitors asking them a question before realising their mistake. In various compartments they have more on the history of the ship with video and photos. Up on deck you can go into the turrets and look at all the gun machinery. There is plenty to see and it’s all been done wonderfully. The Belfast is moored near Tower bridge next to a galleria with lots of restaurants, pubs and coffee shops. You can also take a walk along the Thames on the new (to me) riverside walkways. It’s a great day out, and you will want to go back, because they have caught the essence of this great ship, she is still alive, and that is a great achievement.

The Scillies lies forty miles from the tip of Lands End and on the charts this group of 145 islands resembles a handful of large boulders scattered into the sea by an angry giant. With fierce seas, strong tides and often blanketed in fog, the Scillies has a fearsome reputation as a ship killer and its rocky shores are littered with more shipwrecks than anyone can truly count. However when the Scillies are not wrecking ships, it is blessed with a beautiful sub tropical climate and its Botanical Gardens on Tresco are world famous. Tucked into a small corner of the gardens is Valhalla, a collection of ships figure heads, gathered from the unfortunate shipwrecks that have been smashed to pieces on the Scillies unforgiving shores. Here are just a few of their many stories.

Falkland

The Bishops Rock Lighthouse stands at the western gate of the Scilly Islands and has been witness to many shipwrecks, but the four masted Liverpool barque Falkland managed to strike the lighthouse itself. Loaded with grain, the Falkland, built in 1889 for the Palace Shipping Company and commanded by Capt. Gracie was 135 days out from Tacoma when she encountered a severe south westerly gale which broke some of her mast stays. Driven towards Bishops Rock she struck the lighthouse broadside on, one of her huge masts striking the lamp tower itself. The gale blew her of the rocks and as she drifted to the north, twenty five of the crew and the Captains wife and young child managed to escape in one of the ships lifeboats. Capt. Gracie wasn’t to be so lucky. He led the rest of the crew to the other boat but it was jammed on its skids. By the time they got it free the Falkland fell beam on to the waves and sank like a stone, drowning him and the rest of the crew.

Sophie

In the days of sail derelict ships often became a navigational hazard. Overwhelmed by storms the crews often fearing the worse would take to the ships lifeboats only to find later after they had been rescued that their ship still floated, and that they had been too quick off the mark.One such case was that of the Norwegian barque Sophie of Frederikstad carrying a cargo of coal from Swansea. She was sighted on the 15 December 1896 dismasted and wallowing in heavy seas off Shipman head. Ten local men put out in a gig to board her and found her completely derelict except for a well fed dog. The cabin was laid up for a meal, the clock still ticking and half prepared food warm in the galley. It was as if everybody had vanished which is in fact what had happened.

Bernardo

The Bernardo was a barque of 701tons belonging to G.B. Degrogori of Camogli Italy. She was only thirteen years old, when in March 1888, loaded with ballast she was approaching the Scillies in a fierce northwest gale when her sails were torn to shreds. Finding herself helpless to manoeuvre she was blown ashore on the island of Annet. The ships lifeboat was launched but soon capsized in the heavy seas drowning all its eleven crew. Captain dapelo who was still trying to organize the other boat was forced to swim for his life, as the ship pounding furiously on the shore broke up underneath him. He managed to swim to the nearby Old Woman Rock, where he clung helplessly until he was rescued by passing fishermen. The Bernardo quickly went to pieces in the heavy seas, and all that was left was the figurehead.

Rosa Tachini

The Paper Ledges lie just north of the Nut rock, and it was here that the Rosa Tachini became shipwrecked after coming adrift in a savage south westerly gale in November 1872. She was on her way from Buenos Aires to Antwerp loaded with hides, wool and tallow. She struck the ledges twice before settling on the rocks. She resisted being floated off and so became a total loss.

H.M.S. Amethyst was a modified Black Swan class sloop built by Alexander Stevens and Sons in Govern Scotland and launched in 1943. During the Second World War she made her mark by depth charging and sinking U1276. After the war she was re-classed as a frigate, renumbered as F116 and in 1949 found her -self based at Shanghai. At the time there was a civil war going on in China between the Chinese Communists and the Kuomintang. The British Embassy was at Nanking, and because of all the fighting H.M.S.Consort was standing by as guard ship. On the 20 April 1949 the Amethyst was ordered to proceed up the Yangtze to Nanking to relieve Consort and prepare to evacuate all British citizens that were being caught up in the advance of the Chinese Communist Forces. She travelled in company with Kuomintang warships, who busily shelled any enemy batteries that they could spot, causing over 200 casualties. According to the Communists, the Amethyst was also firing, a statement that later, the Amethyst strongly denied. In any event, at 0800 hours, a Communist field gun battery on the north bank of the river fired a salvo of ten shells that fell short of the Amethyst and were assumed to be part of the regular shelling of the Nationalist forces on the other bank.

The Amethyst increased her speed and unfurled two huge battle flags to show her identity. The firing stopped, but an hour later as she was approaching Kiangyin further upriver, another battery opened fire hitting the wheelhouse and killing the Coxn. Another shell burst on the bridge, mortally wounding the Captain Lt.Commander B.M. Skinner and injuring the First Lt. Geoffrey Weston. In the ensuing confusion the ship ran aground on Rose Island and as the shelling continued the sickbay was hit, along with the port engine room and the main generator, but not before the injured Weston managed to get of a signal saying that they were aground and under heavy fire. By now the gyro compass was disabled and due to the lack of power the electrical firing circuits were inoperable leaving the Amethyst a helpless target.

Due to the way the ship had grounded, the two front turrets were unable to bear, so the rear turret fired over thirty rounds at the batteries until it was hit, knocking out one of its guns. The remaining gun carried on firing but Weston ordered it to stop as he thought that might cause the battery to cease firing. It was a vain hope. The shore batteries stepped up their fire with both heavy and light artillery causing more casualties and extensive damage to the ship. Weston prepared for the worst by arming the rest of the crew with rifles and Bren Guns to prepare to repel boarders.

By 10-30 hours no attempt had been made to board the ship, but the shelling and small arms fire carried on unabated. Lt.Com. Weston decided to evacuate as many of the crew as he could to the opposite bank of the river which was controlled by the Kuomintang. Everybody who could swim was ordered over the side, whilst the walking wounded and non swimmers were squeezed in the one remaining boat. Fifty nine ratings and four Chinese mess boys made it to safety, but several more were cut down in the water by machine gun and artillery fire. Those that made it were taken to a Nationalist Hospital and then trucked back to Shanghai. Left on board the Amethyst were forty able bodied men, twelve wounded and fifteen dead. By now the shelling had stopped but everybody had to stay under cover because of the snipers. By the time the shelling stopped at 11-00 hours the casualty list had grown to twenty two men dead and 31 wounded. In all the Amethyst had received over fifty hits mostly below the water line which the crew franticly plugged with hammocks and anything else that came to hand.

While this was happening H.M.S.Consort was seen steaming towards them at twenty nine knots displaying seven White Ensigns and three Union flags. She came under heavy fire but managed to opened fire and destroy some of the batteries as she tried to take Amethyst under tow. However the heavy shelling made this task impossible, so the Consort had to abandon her efforts and retire having suffered ten men killed and three wounded.

All efforts were now concentrated in trying to get the ship afloat. Everything that could be removed was jettisoned to make the ship lighter, and on April 26, after being aground for six days, the ship was floated of in the dead of night and moved up river to Fu Te Wei. However she couldn’t stay there, so H.M.S. London and H.M.S. Black Swan were sent to escort her down river. Before they got to her, they came under very heavy fire from batteries near Bate Point causing considerable damage to both ships. London was holed in twelve places and lost twelve killed and twenty wounded. Black Swan had seven wounded so it was decided to disengage and return down river to safety. Amethyst removed the worst of her wounded by sampan and went a further ten miles upstream where she anchored and received her new Captain, the British Naval Attache, Lt.Commander J.S.Kerans, who immediately started negotiations with the Communists. These proved largely futile as the Chinese wanted an admission that Amethyst had fired first, which of course the British couldn’t agree to. So months passed while the Chinese took over the whole area, and refused to give the ship and crew vital supplies.

By July things were getting increasingly desperate on the ship and it was becoming obvious that they could all die stuck in the Yangtze, or try to make a run for it. It was a risky decision but on the 31st July Lt. Commander Kerans slipped the mooring cable and slid down the river to start her one hundred and four mile dash for freedom. Running the gauntlet of enemy guns now on both sides of the river she steamed resolutely forward ,streaming black smoke during the worst of the shelling to confuse the Chinese gunners. By 0500 hours she was coming up to the forts that guarded the entrance to the open sea. H.M.S. Amethyst, swept by brilliant searchlights for the batteries on the forts, ploughed on at full speed to the mouth of the river where she met H.M.S.Consort and made her famous signal ‘have rejoined the fleet off Woosung—God save the King.

Nowadays Sutton Harbour is a bustling marina with lots of new waterside apartments and restaurants, and bears little resemblance to the harbour when the Amethyst came to her final rest on Marrowbone Slip. Just a short walk away is the historic Barbican where the Pilgrim Fathers set sail for the New World, and is full of old Pubs and art gallery’s. The fish quay has been moved across the pool near the Marine Aquarium, and with it went some of the character of the Barbican. Still it’s a fine place to see all the boats sailing in and out, and if you walk up the hill, you soon come to Plymouth Hoe with its wonderful panorama of Plymouth Sound. There is so much history here, from Drake, to the Warships still carrying our soldiers to fight in foreign lands. Much has been forgotten, like the Amethyst, but still, a walk around where she was, can still conjure up memories of brave deeds done, and after all’s said and done, that is all that will be left, just memories.

Ralph was born in the village of Chiseldon near Swindon in 1920. He left school at14 which was not unusual in those days. He joined the Navy in July 1935 as a 'Boy Sailor' at H.M.S. St.Vincent. He had two brothers who also served in the Navy during the war. On completing his basic training and ‘Signalmans’ course he initially served time on the battleships ‘Rodney’ and ‘Warwick “ a ‘V’ and ‘W’ destroyer during the 1938 crisis.

After a spell at Devonport barracks at the age of nineteen he joined ‘Hardy’ and in August 1939 he sailed with the ship to the ‘Med’. The ship’s deployment there just prior to the outbreak of war has previously been described by other crew members.

When ‘Hardy’ returned to Devonport after “a mad rush back from Freetown” in West Africa, leave was granted. This was February 1940 and going to be the last he saw of his family for a considerable time. Leave to all watches completed ‘Hardy’ sailed for Scapa Flow. It was here that all the crew were given the opportunity to write their last letters home prior to going on operations in the North Sea and eventually ‘Narvik’.

The ‘Hardy’ finally arriving at Narvik, Ralph recalls, “my action station was on the flagdeck and I remember the first run into the harbour. A lot of damage was done but I noticed two torpedoes missed their targets. It was exciting having a good view of the action from the flagdeck”. He goes on to say, that “later on the third run as we turned to starboard I saw three German destroyers approaching also to starboard. It was then a shell came through the flagdeck and the wheelhouse next to us. I remember thinking ‘what a hell of a mess’. I was hit in the centre of my back and arm by shrapnel. I realised I had no use of my arm. My mate Signalman ‘Ginger’ (Cuthbert) Turner had also been wounded.

He continues to describe that both of them with other wounded men were eventually put into a ‘whaler’. However, he states, “it was full of holes and sank. I was helped out by Yeoman Thatcher. I said ‘I’ve had enough’ but he replied, ‘don’t be bloody silly’. I was then unconscious for three days. I had been taken to a hospital at Ballangen and was awakened by a loud bang”. ('Compiler Ron Cope' – this was probably caused by the sixteen inch shells sent into Narvik harbour by ‘Warspite’ in the 2nd Battle on 13th April).

It was planned that the more seriously wounded men, including Ralph, were to be taken to the ‘Lofoton Islands’ to be picked up by HMS Penelope, a cruiser, instead of the destroyers. However, previously the Penelope had hit a rock and was then needed to be towed by ‘Eskimo’. When the two ships arrived, Penelope would not take them on board and after a few discussions it was decided the wounded men should go to a hospital ashore. This was the Gravdal Hospital (Gravdal Skyehus) on the island of Vestvagey in the Lofoton.

Ralph remained a patient there for six weeks. He recalls, “I was then cared for by a family. Later, some of the lads came along and suddenly told me to get ready for transport in a local fishing boat. I spent my 20th birthday cruising up the fjord”.

He then arrived at ‘Tromso’ a few days later, just in time catch the last hospital ship ‘Atlantis’ leaving for Britain. He continues, “I arrived at Liverpool about the 9th June, but because of a relapse, I needed to be stretched ashore”. However, Ralph’s journey was not quite over having then to endure a train journey to a hospital near Glasgow.

“Then two and half years of changing from hospital to hospital, including Winwick Hospital, near Warrington in Lancashire. I had another hiccup there. They used a bone from one leg to patch up the arm and when the plaster was taken off, sent me to a hospital near Bristol for recuperation. Unfortunately they left me alone on the station with a full kitbag. As I lifted the bag to put it on the rack in the train, I heard and felt a big crack. On arriving in the hospital they confirmed the arm had been broken again. So within 48 hours I was back at Warrington. They then took a bit of bone from the other leg and patched me up again”.

By July 1940, Ralph had lost touch with his shipmate ‘Ginger’ Turner. So he decided to write to him. Sadly, Ralph received a reply from Ginger’s mother to say that a week before his own discharge from hospital he had gone sailing nearby with a nurse. The boat had overturned and he had drowned.

Ralph was finally discharged from hospital in October 1942 and drafted back to Devonport barracks. He was very pleased to be drafted to a ship within a month. "I was sent to a new ‘Sloop’ HMS ‘Cygnet’ who had just been built at Birkenhead. We did our ‘acceptance trials’ in the Clyde and then sailed to Tobermoy for our final sea trials. Unfortunately, she ran aground on entering the harbour. I was then loaned to the ‘Black Swan’ for the North African ‘Landings’. After awhile I returned to ‘Cygnet’ in time for the Sicily ‘Landings’. From then I had a few months in the North Atlantic before going to HMS Mercury for the ‘Yeomans’ course.
On completion, whilst waiting for transport to Canada to pick up a new ‘Algerine’ minesweeper I spent a spell on a Polish destroyer at ‘Slapton Sands’ in South Devon . This was in readiness for the ‘D Day’ Landings".

Ralph remained in the Royal Navy till 1950 leaving as a ‘Yeoman of Signals’. However, he still had problems with his back injury. On his release to ‘Civvy Street’ initially he was manager for a Radio and Electrical Shop in Brighton. He was later transferred by the firm to Crawley. During which time he completed a correspondence course in ‘electronics’. Once attaining qualifications he secured employment at Gatwick Airport as a ‘Radio and Radar Engineer’. In between times he married Betty in 1957.

Ralph and Betty

Ralph retired after twenty four years in the aviation industry. He and Betty remain living in Crawley and Ralph is now 90 years of age.

]]> http://www.submerged.co.uk/ralf-brigginshaw-hardy-survivor.php/feed 4 http://www.submerged.co.uk/anthony-ronayne-b-e-m-survivor-from-h-m-s-hardy.php http://www.submerged.co.uk/anthony-ronayne-b-e-m-survivor-from-h-m-s-hardy.php#comments Wed, 19 Jan 2011 17:06:31 +0000 Peter Mitchell http://www.submerged.co.uk/?p=1481 I joined the Royal Navy on 16th September 1939 as a Steward. My Naval number is E/LX23255 H.M.S. St. Angelo. My first ship was H.M.S. Hardy and although my main job was that of a Steward, my action station was as an ammunition supplier to one of the five 4.7 inch guns. On 30th September 1939 we sailed for Gibraltar. After a few days there, we went to the Canary Islands, then, we went to Sierra Leone, Freetown West Africa, to join Force K consisting of the Ark Royal, Renown, Neptune and six destroyers. We started patrol from Freetown straight down to South America and back for a whole month in search of the Battle Cruiser Graf Spee.

Anthony recieving his commemerative copy of the George Medal, which all serving members of the Armed Forces recieved.

We entered Montevideo harbour for oil not very far from Rio de Janeiro. Afterwards we had a signal at 5am from H.M.S. Exeter, Ajax, Achilles (as Force K). We tried to catch up with them by doing full speed to the River Plate. We arrived too late, the German battle cruiser was already in harbour and the Exeter was so badly damaged that she had to go back to Britain. The Graff Spee was damaged too and had many killed and wounded on board. She went into the harbour with the excuse that she must bury her dead.

Exeter showing her battle damage
We waited outside the harbour for her to come out. After a few days of waiting we saw her steaming out of the Harbour, so we were all ready for her. Her Captain knew what was waiting for him outside the harbour but he had already prepared what he was about to do. He landed all the ship’s company and settled the cruiser with very big explosives explosives and lots of black smoke came up high. The Captain stayed on the ship and died there.

The Graff Spee sinking
photo Paul Simpson

We then sailed for Britain and arrived in Devonport for a refit in January 1940. In February we had anti magnetic detonator systems fitted for protection against magnetic mines. We sailed from there to Scapa Flow, in Orkney where we joined forces with Force K again and started patrols. We sunk a submarine with depth charges at about twenty miles off Greenock, Scotland. We came on patrol in the Atlantic for two months and on April 9th 1940 we had an SOS from H.M.S. Gloworm. It was 11am, very heavy seas with the waves sixty feet high and it was snowing. We could only make seven knots due to the rough sea. At 2-30 pm we arrived on the spot where Gloworm was but we only found patches of oil. H.M.S. Gloworm was sunk. We tried hard to make contact with our force K as we were going to get engaged with the same two German cruisers, Gneisenau and Scharnhorst who had sunk the Gloworm.

The Cruiser Scharnhorst

We were only two destroyers, hardy and Havoc. At 5pm we made contact with K force, Renown and eight other destroyers. We then started a search for the German cruisers. At 3am on 10th April 1940 we found and engaged the two Cruisers. As hardy and Havoc took action we missed with two salvoes whilst the Germans tried hard to hit us. Havoc then hit the Scharnhorst aft and Renown was hit but no real damage was done. We lost them in the snow, it was too bad visibility. At 11pm we, Hardy, Hunter,Havoc ,Hostile and Hotspur entered Narvik Fjord, Norway.

H.M.S.Hotspur

We started action at 11-30pm. We sunk fourteen ships, two submarines, one destroyer and blew up a shore battery. We lost two destroyers, Hardy and Hunter. Our Captain, Warburton Lee was the first one in the war to receive the Victoria Cross. He died after leaving the ship badly wounded in his face. At Narvik Fjord we had to swim ashore. The sea was frozen with snow, the temperature was 38 degrees Fahrenheit below zero. I had shrapnel in my right leg and had to jump from the ship and swim ashore. We swam, and a good job that the place we landed had no soldiers around as their shore battery had been blow to nothing. We then had to walk to a place called Ballengen, fifteen kilometres from Narvik. We started to walk at 8-30am on 11th April 1940 and we arrived at 11-30pm the same day.

H.M.S.Renown

(In an interview given to a local paper ‘It-Torca published on 16 September 2001 Anthony gives more details how he managed to get safely to the shore. Before jumping into the sea he took off all his clothes except for his underwear. He then put on a life raft and jumped into the freezing water. In the meantime the Germans were firing from the shore on all those in the sea. Whilst swimming he heard an officer shouting for everyone to swim ashore, but a few seconds later this same officer vanished as he was hit in the head and drowned. As Anthony was nearing the shore he met Lt. Fawell who was almost exhausted and helped him to get on shore. Once on the shore they noticed that there was a row of barbed wire. They climbed over it and whilst walking they saw a small fisherman’s hut and went inside. There was nothing there except for a piece of curtain and Anthony wrapped it around him as he was freezing with cold. In the same hut there was a young sailor about sixteen years old who was holding one hand with the other which was ripped off his body, trying to put it back in place. On Hardy there were five Maltese crew members. Anthony together with Guzeppi Micallef and Tony Biffa walked to safety. At one stage Guzeppi Micallef could not walk further and fainted. Along came some Norwegians and put some ice in his mouth to revive him.)

Anthony, on the left, and his shipmate Francis Cauchi

Everybody was in agony with frostbite, as very few of us had shoes on. We had many wounded. The Norwegians were good to us, they put us in a school and we all lay on the wooden floor. The women came and brought hot water and bandages and they took good care of us. I was lucky as the women who bandaged my leg the next day, took me to her house and I stayed there until the Second Battle took place. She also tried to hide me so that I stayed there for good, but the officer knew I was staying in the house. The family I was with were very nice people. At midnight the officer and four sailors came for me to take me on board Ivanhoe.

Toni Briffa who was a shipmate of Anthony

(In the same interview mentioned earlier on, Anthony stated that when he boarded the Ivanhoe he met the other Maltese and they were delighted to see one another once again, and all of them expressed their joy at being so lucky to still be alive. On Ivanhoe it was decided that there was insufficient room for all the survivors so some including Anthony were taken on board H.M.S. Kimberly. Unfortunately she was then ordered back to Narvik to pick up other servicemen and then all of them were transferred to the troop ship Franconia which got back nearly two weeks afterwards . Meanwhile the Ivanhoe had sailed straight back to Scotland and so Anthony learned via the BBC World Service, all about the homecoming of their shipmates and the way they were feted and welcomed back by Winston Churchill)

The Troopship Franconia

On the way back in the troop ship Frankonia we had many air attacks until we came back to Greenock in Scotland. We arrived at 7am. As soon as we landed we were taken to the Guildhall for dinner. Admiral Andy gave us a speech, how nice it was to be back in the UK. The first chance I had, I ran to the telegraph office and send a telegram home ‘Tony is safe. I had no money for it but everyone in the office wanted to pay. I was dressed in rags and they thought that I was a student, as on that day the students made a Carnival Day.
(In the interview to the local newspaper, Anthony reveals that before this telegram was delivered, his family and friends paid for Masses and special prayers to be said in repose of his soul, as was the normal custom in the Roman Catholic Church here in Malta, because all of them were certain that Anthony was dead)
We left Greenock next day for Plymouth. We arrived at Drakes barracks, Devonport at 2-30pm. We had been medically tested and given new uniforms and a complete kit. We stayed in the barracks for a few weeks.

Anthony Ronayne B.E.M.

Anthony spent twenty five years in the Royal Navy, joining in 1939 at the outbreak of the war and left in 1967. The latter part of his service was as a training instructor at St.Angelo. He was awarded the British Empire Medal (BEM) for gallantry during the war, when his actions in Bari, Italy, saved lives.

]]> http://www.submerged.co.uk/anthony-ronayne-b-e-m-survivor-from-h-m-s-hardy.php/feed 10 http://www.submerged.co.uk/les-smale-b-e-m-survivor-from-h-m-s-hardy.php http://www.submerged.co.uk/les-smale-b-e-m-survivor-from-h-m-s-hardy.php#comments Fri, 29 Oct 2010 11:33:54 +0000 Peter Mitchell http://www.submerged.co.uk/?p=1406 I am very gratefull to Les Smale B.E.M. for this fascinating account of his part in the battle of Narvik, where he survived the sinking of H.M.S.Hardy. His account is also quite unique, because he wrote it all down so soon after the event.

Les Smale BEM at Ganges

I will, while the events are still alive in my memory, attempt to give a description of events which brought me to take part in the Battle of Narvik.
The Hardy left Scapa Flow on the evening of April 2nd, together with the remainder of her division bound for the Shetlands. A little after we had left the boom defences, the air raid defences of Scapa opened up on the dozen or so raiders who were darting around in the almost dusk. A heavier barrage I have never seen. The sky literally had Black Measles. This was our first raid and quite naturally we were all anxious to have a crack at them, but with all our beckoning we couldn’t persuade them to come near enough to open fire. On the whole, I guess we were quite a bit disappointed, still, though we did not then know it, our chance was to come, and soon.

2nd Flottilla at Venice 1938

Though cold, it was quite calm when we arrived at Sullam Voe (Shetlands) the next morning and after oiling with the Hunter alongside us we went to anchor. It was now the 3rd. Of April and no one seemed to know exactly why we were there or for that matter, where we were going. However Captain (D) was not slow to take advantage of the lovely weather and the time to exercise General Drill to the utmost. Action Stations, Landing Parties, were exercised even to the extent of Hotspur flying a Swastika.

Les Smale

During the Friday evening of the 5th, four of the ‘I’ class destroyers arrived well loaded with mines, following which came all kinds of rumour as to where we were to escort these minelayers. Well, next morning at 0400 hours, we weighed anchor and put to sea and at about eight ‘o’ clock we rendezvoused with the Battle Cruiser H.M.S. Renown. Soon, we were all settled down in our allotted positions and took a course something East of North. The sea was very heavy and so was the rain and by the next morning one couldn’t help but feel the extra nip in the air. This being Sunday, we had, as usual, a little service on the messdeck, after which Lower Deck was cleared and the Captain, (Warburton- Lee) disclosed that during the afternoon we were crossing the Artic Circle, to which he dryly commented that this called for the same procedure as for ‘crossing the Line’ Our final destination, he said, was a little south of Narvik where we were to lay mines at dawn on Monday morning. Off Hoveden 67

H.M.S.Renown.
photo supplied by Paul Simpson

All through that day the sea was still quite high and it was not until during the night that it began to ease down, and only then because we were getting near land. Dawn of Monday the 8th broke with us at action stations and violating Norwegian neutrality. The mines were all laid within half an hour of the planned time, so despite the weather we had done our first real job well. All that remained for us to do now was to patrol the minefield and guide Norwegian fishermen around it and capture any German ships trying to pass down trough neutral waters which they had previously been doing.
The weather here in the Fiord, was beautiful, hardly a ripple on the water and everything surrounding us covered in a white blanket of snow. Well, here we stopped until just after noon when there came a message from the ‘Gloworm’ (Destroyer) that she was being attacked by two enemy ships and was returning their fire. Then all was quiet and nothing more was heard of her.
Meanwhile, word came for us to join ‘Renown’ and off we went at full speed. The German Fleet was at sea and Blenheims, Hudsons, and all sorts of our bombers were out looking for them in an effort to bomb them. Things were warming up and everyone, though they knew well what the consequences may be, was rather glad. Things were moving rapidly and it was not many hours before we learnt that the German Fleet was moving northwards. Just after 1700 that evening we met the ‘Renown’ who in the meantime had joined up with our minelaying friends of this morning. The sea was now extremely rough and so, for the night, we took up a formation of line ahead. ‘Renown’ leading with ‘Hunter’, ‘Havock’, ‘Hotspur’, and the minelayers following.

H.M.S.Gloworm
photo supplied by Navy-Photos

At dawn the next day as was usual, we went to action stations. There were snowstorms about and it was still very cold. We must be further North than ever. We were going through the usual procedure when suddenly, without any signal , the ‘Renown’ altered course to Port. Quite naturally all our bridge staff turned their binoculars in that direction. They need not have done, for a snowstorm suddenly fell on us and blacked, or rather whited everything out. The ‘Renown’ then relieved our anxiety by signalling with their big light ‘Two Enemy’. I suppose nobody could express their feelings at that moment. Mine were, I think, a mixture of excitement and expectancy. Wondering if it really was the enemy and what it would be like to be under fire. We were soon to know for in a moment or two the ‘Renown’ opened fire with a broadside of 15inch guns at the leading ship of the two.

Scharnhorst

The snow had cleared and we could now see them away on the horizon. We, that is the ‘Hardy’ and ‘Hunter’, opened fire at extreme range on the second ship. There was a honest to good fight for perhaps a quarter of an hour and during that time we realised that the leading ship of the enemy was a cruiser of the ‘Hipper’ class and the other, engaged by just two tiny destroyers was none other than the ‘Scharnhorst’. There were splashes all round us but almost everybody was too busy with their own job to let that worry him. They got a straddle on us and while I was thinking that the next one would ‘see us off’, it never came. It appeared that they were concentrating on the ‘Renown’. There were several good straddles on her and we seemed to be left out of it. Then they, the enemy, turned, not towards us, but away from us, and the speed in such big sea’s as we pursued, was too much for the destroyers to maintain. Several times it seemed that we would break our back, so we had to ease down to about twelve knots. ‘Renown’ was still chasing them and as we went along we passed all kinds of wreckage from an obviously German rubber raft and pole attached, to a Marines’ cap. By now the enemy was out of sight and as ‘Renown’ went over the horizon she signalled us to return to our patrol on the mines. By this time we heard that the Germans had invaded Norway and at last we knew why their fleet had put to sea. On our way back we learned that we had suffered no casualties or damage, except that there was seven to eight inches of water in the foredeck mess deck, and everything movable, had moved, and practically all of it had broken.
During the lull on the way back we replenished the ready use ammunition lockers and ‘squared off’ the ship generally. The Captain and Gunnery officer were full of praise for the way the men behaved and the ship was full of talk of what, probably, was the most exciting moments of our lives. It was certainly my most exciting moment up till then.

H.M.S.Renown

Instead of returning to our patrol as ordered by ‘Renown’, we went, due I suppose, to signals from the Admiralty, further North towards Narvik with the Lofoten Islands on our Port and Norway to Starboard. Then came more coded messages from the Admiralty, and in consequence I was amongst those detailed from each ship for ‘Landing Party’. We all got rigged out and set about writing farewell letters in case we did not return. Not knowing how long we may be ashore, we all fairly well packed ourselves in with chocolate and cigarettes. The plan apparently was to bombard the harbour and shore batteries of Narvik and then land and take the place over. This idea was quashed however, when a couple of hours later we called at a pilot station some forty miles south of Narvik. Here we learnt that we were up against a superior force, and to put it in the words of the Pilot ‘ I wouldn’t go in with a force three times as big as yours’. Plans were changed and D2 ( Captain Warburton-Lee ) decided on a dawn attack. Plans were drawn up and method of attack signalled to all ships concerned.

H.M.S.Havock

That evening when we closed up for a final check over of instruments, the alarm bells rang and away we went after what looked like a destroyer. As we neared, it turned away but we soon overhauled it to find that it was a small fishing boat. That night.... it was now the 9th of April, we continued a patrol of the Fiord and at about midnight with everyone at action stations the five ships, the ‘Hostile’ had joined us during the evening , began to move towards Narvik. My particular Action Station was as a member of the Gun Directors crew with a duty to operate the Cross Level Unit. This unit, using the distant horizon as datum, measured the angle of ship movement at right angles to the line of fire and fed in an appropriate line correction. Since the close proximity of the fiord shoreline on either side made the unit inoperable I was ordered out of the Director to become a Bridge messenger and as such was in a ringside seat as it were to see all the action that was to come. The orders were to sink all ship targets, and needless to say everybody was ‘on their toes’ the whole of the time. It began to snow pretty heavily and we could see neither shore, and this made navigation that much more difficult. The ‘Asdic’ submarine detection gear was used to get echoes from either side of the fiord so that we were able to continue our progress up towards Narvik. It was bitterly cold, and where we were moving around in a vain effort to keep warm, we were forming circles of ice on the deck. Twice, rum and tea were brought around and did we need it. Generally a quiet atmosphere surrounded the ship as was only to be expected in such a tense situation. Once, in particular, when the Gunnery Officer, Lt. Clarke, passed around that we were about to pass a shore battery, everything was particularly quiet, with no one saying a word and only the wash of the ship to stir the apparent ‘peace’.

’Hardy’ at sea
photo supplied by Ron Cope.

Just about 0400, it was now the morning of the 10th April, in the vicinity of the harbour we made for what we thought was the entrance and only stopped just in time when we realized that it wasn’t. After a little scout around we eventually found it and as the plan had been to fire on the enemy from the entrance we were all very surprised when the ‘Hardy’ began to lead the division into the harbour itself. It seemed to be so cheeky and yet here we were doing it. There was already one ship run ashore on our Starboard side as we went in, but there were still plenty more good ones about for us to sink.
Merchant ships were ‘small fry’ at the moment. We were looking for destroyers and a submarine. All our guns had been unfrozen with hot oil on the way up and were loaded ready for anything. Everything seemed to be still very quiet and peaceful, but that was all changed a few minutes later when we suddenly sighted a destroyer’s bows showing from behind a whaling factory ship. Torpedoes were fired and I guess at least a couple of them found their mark for there was a terrific explosion together with a vivid semi circular white flash of stars twinkling around the edge. If one could forget what that explosion contained it could be described as extremely beautiful, but when one thinks of sleeping men being killed outright, then it is different, perhaps that’s not the case with a German even if they are the enemy. Simultaneously with the explosion we gathered speed and opened fire with the guns. Turning to go out of the harbour, two more destroyer’s were sighted to Starboard and engaged, but being probably still asleep, they didn’t at this moment return our fire.

Captain Warburton-Lee V.C.

By now the ‘Hardy’ was out of the harbour with the remainder of the division following around in their turn. A second attack was planned and when some ten minutes later we re-entered the harbour they were ready for us. I should say, some of them were, for some were firing High angle shells and others Low angle shells. The Germans didn’t seem to know if they were under surface, or air attack. It was a crazy sight which greeted us this time around, with stems, sterns, funnels and masts sticking up all over the harbour marking the graveyard of the ships sunk in the first attack. But for the grimness of the situation, it was almost an amusing sight. There was more gunfire from what appeared to be shore batteries, and they were firing ammunition fitted with tracer so that you could see it coming towards you. Sometimes it exploded in flight, while at others it went off on contact with the water. Glancing over the ship’s side I noticed that there were explosions erupting from the water at various places around the ship which threw up black clouds of smoke. I thought they might be controlled mines but I don’t know for sure. We came out of the harbour again without casualties but with a well earned scar, a two inch hole in the foremost funnel.

A much more peacefull scene nowadays
We were all quite happy and very pleased with our work but when the Captain ordered yet another attack we were not quite so keen. It was getting very ‘hot’ in the harbour and they were ready for us this time. But if the Captain went, we went. For the third time we entered the harbour and they were more than ready, for we were greeted well and truly with very heavy gunfire and what seemed to be dozens of ‘tinfish’ (torpedoes). After seeing the effect of our own torpedoes, I know there was no one anxious to see the effect of one of theirs on us. Each time one came for us, full speed ahead was ordered and we turned toward it to present as small a target as possible. On one occasion we had just evaded one, only to run into the path of another and I honestly believe that my heart stopped beating as I held my breath, together with everybody else, as we waited for the explosion to occur. But it never came, despite the fact that it passed right under us and the general belief that German torpedoes were all fitted with magnetic heads. If he does, then we owe our lives to our D.C. gear, a device which neutralises the magnetic field inherent in a ship.
With that thrill over, two of our foes burning and the shore batteries silenced, we turned from the harbour for the last time. The wreckage in the harbour would have to be seen to be believed, so I can make no attempt to describe it adequately, other than to say that it was immense.

Les with two shipmates on Hardy. One was AB Andrew Whearty who was killed in the TS mentioned in Cyril Copes Account

As we passed the harbour entrance with our guns facing aft and firing a few farewell shots we all felt to a certain extent relieved, but when all of a sudden, ‘Alarm bearing Red 5 degrees’ was ordered we were all taken by surprise. There was no need to look, for we knew in a moment that we had met the enemy once more and to his advantage. He must have been waiting for us, for in an instant shells were crashing into us. I found myself at the bottom of the ladder behind the wheelhouse and was thrown flat on the deck by a shell which blew off the steel door on the Port side. Fragments of this door or shell injured the two signalmen who were there with me. I put them into the Navigator’s cabin and dived into the Captain's cabin on the Starboard side myself. Another salvo crashed in and something hit my head but I wasn’t hurt. Self preservation, I guess, took me to the Port side, but just as I got there the telegraphs man came out of the wheelhouse shouting that the Cox’n was dead. I, for no reason I can explain, went into the wheelhouse and took over the wheel from Lt. Stanning, the Paymaster, who said he was going back to the bridge. The wheelhouse was a shambles. It was not till I was actually on the job that I realized the danger I was in, but I consoled myself by thinking that ‘if this was my day, then it was my day’. I felt better. I couldn’t make contact with the Bridge and my repeated calls through the voice-pipe of ‘Wheelhouse.. Bridge’ were unanswered. I was left to my own initiative as to what I should do. Looking through the gaping shell holes in the wheelhouse side, I could see for the first time the German ships. There were five of them, two now ahead and three to Starboard.

Les Smale and a Shipmate
photo supplied by Les Smale B.E.M.

We were close to the shore, so I steered a course that kept us as close as I dared and hoped we wouldn’t go aground. In a little while contact was made with Lt. Stanning on the Bridge and he ordered ‘Hard a Starboard’, we’re going to ram. I felt fit for anything now, but almost immediately it was cancelled by ‘Hard a Port’ we’re going ashore. I put the helm over to Port. Just as we were about to ground the Midshipman came into the wheelhouse shouting ‘your going aground, your going aground and rang the engine telegraphs to full astern. It had no effect as the engines had lost steam due to a hit in the boilers, and it was because of this loss of power that Lt. Stanning had changed from ramming the enemy ships, to taking the ‘Hardy’ ashore. I didn’t feel the ship ground and I think I stood there at the wheel in a dazed condition for two or three minutes until someone came by shouting ‘Abandon Ship’. I walked, they were not firing at us now, out onto the point five, machine gun deck, and helped the two previously mentioned injured signalmen into the seaboat. The whaler was full to overflowing with no one at the falls to lower it. Someone did come along to perform this duty and took a turn for lowering as for a normal boats crew of seven, whereupon the boat went down with a terrific rush and capsized. A Carley Float was in the water, by now full of survivors, and I remember shouts of ‘anyone got a knife. None was forth- coming, it was needed to cut the paddles free. Some men were beginning to reach the beach and I noticed that the swimming distance was not all that far and that one could wade half the journey.

This photo of Hardy aground, was taken by a German sailorphoto supplied by Bill Sanders

Being a fair swimmer I decided I could stay and help where I could, so I took off my duffle coat and oilskins and went to the bridge to give a hand as necessary. The Bridge was in a terrible state with the following casualties. The Captain seriously wounded in the head, arm, and unconscious. The Signal Officer and Gunnery officer dead, the Navigator suffering from concussion, and the Paymaster with a foot injury. I, with the Middy released the Telegraphist from his remote control post, the door of which was jammed shut. We then assisted the Doctor to bandage the Captain and then put him into a Neil Robinson stretcher ( a sort of wrap around affair to prevent the patient falling out) and lowered him to the Foc’sle deck. We got the Navigator clear of the Bridge and destroyed what books we thought might be of use to the enemy before finally leaving the Bridge ourselves. Meanwhile, No 4 gun had been getting up more ammunition and was again firing at the enemy. As I reached the Foc’sle deck and had just taken up my coat to retrieve my valuables from the pockets, the Germans opened fire on us again and registered a direct hit on No. 2 gun which was already out of action. I dropped flat and felt splinters of metal hitting my tin hat, which undoubtedly saved me from injury.

Bill Sanders Brother in law looking down at Hardy 1955
photo supplied by Bill Sanders

The Doctor was injured in this, and the Chief Stoker mortally wounded. Having retrieved my valuables we put the Captain in his stretcher over the side and into the water. Our only access to the water at this point was via the whaler’s falls which still hung vertically from the davit head. Shinning down, I paused on the lower block to take of my fur lined flying boots before entering the water. I didn’t get them off as the First Lieut. Came down the fall on top of me and I found myself in the water. One of the signalmen who had been injured behind the wheelhouse was still in the water and asked me to help him. I saw him ashore alright and then began to realize the cold was colder than I had ever experienced before. By now No.4 gun had finished firing but the Germans were still firing at us and bits and pieces came flying over making us continually have to duck under the water in order to dodge the danger. The First Lieutenant was now calling for help with the Chief Stoker, so I went to give him a hand ashore. I then went back to assist the Gunner (Mr. McCracken) to bring the Captain to the beach, where almost immediately he died. I daresay he would have been happier had he known anything about it, if we had left him on board.

School at Ballengen where the sailors were housed
photo supplied by Bill Sanders

My first wish now was to get the circulation going again, so I stamped my way up through the snow to the nearest house, as had so many others of our crew. Looking back, as I left the beach, I saw a ship upturned showing keel ,rudder and propellers and felt that it must be one of the German destroyers that we had sunk. Unfortunately it turned out to be the ‘Hunter’ though I didn’t know it at the time. Our own ship was on fire forward, and rounds of ammunition of different calibres were exploding all the time. I eventually reached the wooden house and there were two women there, a Mrs. Christianson and her daughter, doing all they could to make the survivors comfortable. The house was full of steam from thawing bodies. Personally I was so cold and so exhausted that I could not take my soaking clothes off, though I knew I had to. A Yeoman of Signals helped me out of them eventually, and I wrapped myself in a black silk dress which I found on the floor. I was glad now that I had been unable to discard my boots at the bottom of the whalers fall when leaving the ship, for unlike most of the others I still had something to wear on my feet. Many made improvised shoes by cutting their rubber lifebelts and putting their feet in the sealed ends. The most comical of all I think, was our Canteen manager who wrapped his legs around with newspaper. Then there was one who cut a hole in a carpet, put his head through it and tied the two draping ends around his body with a piece of string. While I was still getting warm our Torpedo officer called for volunteers to go back to the ship to get a man seen walking on the Quarter deck. They went, four of them, in a Carley float and brought back the Navigator, for it was him, still in a concussed state. These four men were awarded the D.S.M. and well deserved in view of the danger from exploding ammunition from the fire still on board.

Most recent photo of Petra Kristianson’s home
photo supplied by Bill Sanders

At about 1300 hours we made a move down the road away from Narvik and we were treated with many kindnesses by the Norwegians, in the way of food and clothing and other comforts. Eventually at about 7pm. We reached a village called Ballangen were they opened a big centrally heated school for us and gave us tea, rye bread and some sausages to eat. It didn’t take us long to get off to sleep that night but it took a bit more effort to get us up the next morning. All that day the people were bringing up bedding, clothes and food. They treated us well and the only way we could help them, by way of repayment, was to give a hand at clearing away snow, which we all willingly did.
During the day we visited the wounded in the hospital and they were as glad to see us as we were to see them. We could all now find time enough to spare a moment or two for those, some of whom were very close friends, who were not lucky enough to share our good fortune in surviving the battle of yesterday.

H.M.S.Ivanhoe
We stayed in Ballanger until the day of the second Battle of Narvik. This was on Saturday April 13th. This battle we were able to see from the attic of the school and it was a grand sight to see the ‘Tribal’ class destroyers driving’ Jerry’ step by step back up the Fiord, with ‘ Warspite’ bringing up the rear and sending salvo after salvo up the fiord which must have had a great de-moralising effect on the German destroyer crews. The Torpedo officer, Lt. Heppel, put out in a local boat to try and contact one of our ships, and on the way back picked up a deserted German motor launch. This he took over to continue his mission. In the meantime the British ships continued to move up the fiord out of our vision, but we could hear the noise of battle as gunfire echoed and re-echoed through the fiords. Lt. Heppel, made contact with the ‘Ivanhoe’ which very shortly came into Ballangan pier and took us off, and at the same time landed an armed guard to look after our wounded in the hospital.

H.M.S.Warspite

The next morning we were transferred to different ships and I went on board the ‘Hero’ which was soon on the move down the fiord to the open sea. Orders were then received to join ‘Warspite’ in patrolling an area which we thought to be in the vicinity of the entrance to the fiord. We remained in this area with ‘Warspite’ until Thursday. Nothing by way of excitement happened during this time, but on Thursday we were told to sail for Rosyth which pleased us no end. On the next evening, Friday, we heard on the news that the survivors of the ‘Hardy’ were arriving in London ‘at any minute now’.... but obviously not our little group, here we were still out in the middle of the North Sea somewhere. Just twenty minutes after this announcement the ‘Hero’ turned about and once more made a heading for the Narvik area where we arrived on Sunday 21st April in the afternoon. I can’t express how we felt, but anyone who reads this may well imagine. Hardly had we dropped anchor than along came three German planes and dropped bombs. Fifteen minutes later, back they came to drop more, and shortly after this was followed by yet another attack. No damage was suffered in any of the raids.

First attachment of sailors R.N. and merchant arriving in Greenock on Franconia,Survivors of HMS Hardy after the 2nd Battle of Narvik, plus British Merchant Seamen, rescued by HMS Ivanhoe

photo supplied by Leo Styles

That same night we, the ‘Hardy’ survivors were transferred to the troopship ‘Franconia’ who also re-embarked six hundred troops whom, it seemed she had transported to Norway earlier. We sailed again for Home at 0800 hours on Tuesday 23rd of April. We had one escort for a little way and then were left to proceed on our own. All went well until 0200 hours on Friday morning, when we were all awakened by a terrific explosion. I was out and had my lifebelt on in no time, and then there was another explosion. I just stood there in the cabin, and well, I was quite surprised that the ship didn’t heel over, or feel as though she was sinking. We made our way up towards the upper decks, but were stopped by the Master at Arms, who was saying that we had been met by an escort during the night and they were dropping depth charges. The explanation sounded feasible so we made our way back down to our bunks and sleep again. The next morning the Captain passed a message to us all saying that during the night we had been attacked by torpedo’s from a submarine and that they had exploded either in the ships wake or at the end of their run. The next morning, Saturday 27thApril, we arrived safely in Greenock and were soon on our way to Plymouth. The Barrack staff re-kitted, paid and generally processed us so that I was home on leave by 8pm on Sunday 28th of April, much to the relief of my family, who were really without word of our well being since the events of 10th April and the First Battle of Narvik.

Les Smale at his presentation,just on his right is his girlfriend Barbara, who he later married
photo supplied by Les Smale B.E.M.
The people of the home village of Stoke Canon (four miles from Exeter) gave me a great welcombe home and presented me with a gold watch engraved as follows. ‘Presented to Leslie J. Smale as an appreciation of services rendered on H.M.S. Hardy at Narvik April 10th. 1940 by friends at Stoke Canon’. In addition to this, they used the balance of the village collection to buy five War Savings Certificates in my name.

]]> http://www.submerged.co.uk/les-smale-b-e-m-survivor-from-h-m-s-hardy.php/feed 9 http://www.submerged.co.uk/roy-phillpots-memories.php http://www.submerged.co.uk/roy-phillpots-memories.php#comments Tue, 27 Jul 2010 09:17:43 +0000 Peter Mitchell http://www.submerged.co.uk/?p=1268 Here is an account of what it was like to be on board the Glen Strathallan as a cadet, sent in by Roy Phillpot.

I was quite sad to hear the old girl was semi broken up on the bottom, but I suppose it would be a sad affair if she caused a fishing boat to sink - even though they should know where they go with modern nav systems as they are. I am not sure what more I can tell you. You seem to have done your research well, and unfortunately as a poor radio officer student, I did not have much of a camera, and did not risk it on that first trip. The few pictures I did have are gone with the various moves and family upheavals.

Roy on the bridge (not the Glen)

I remember the ship sitting at Millwall dock in London, with a black painted hull - the paint being many layers thick, and applied generously over various chipped areas where the rust had been removed. Riveted hull, so that when standing on the dockside at the bow, you could see the lines of rivets curving away towards the stern. A wide well formed hull, obviously designed for strength and good sea handling. The accommodation was white - with some rust streaks, and a big yellow painted funnel - at least that is my memory, with two high I think also black painted masts and the radio antenna between them. The accommodation doors heavy, watertight, and with dark narrow stairs leading up and down into the various accommodation areas. She had been converted for carrying cadets. Our bunk area was in the two fore holds - what used to be fish holds. 2 tier bunks, with the top bunk not far from the deckhead. There was not much headroom up there!

Light was from a few deckhead light fixtures, but I remember the light was dim and yellow - each held a 40 watt bulb, it could not have been more, and was probably less. The single switch was at the entrance to the hold. Our instructor would come and turn it off around 8 or 9pm, just before the engineer turned off the steam driven donkey generator. It then became extremely dark and very silent - apart from the remarks and various pranks from our assembled company! Smoking was forbidden, so anyone wishing a smoke had to go outside. Without a torch, this was an adventure in itself! The main cabin, which was also the chart room, below the bridge, had warm dark panelling, with a number of rather dirty windows, which could be covered with heavy red curtains. These were closed when we did navigation exercises using the Decca navigator.

Navigating (not the Glen)

From the main cabin, a narrow half winding stair led up to the narrow bridge above. Here was the wheel, engine telegraph, radar, and speaking tube to the engine room and chart room below. Maybe there was also a phone to the engine room, but I can no longer remember. I was always fascinated by how well the old speaking tube technology worked. We even had it in more modern ships I sailed in later! Simple and foolproof. We used it on the Glen Strathallan to give navigation commands to the bridge when we were "playing" navigation below.. Blow, listen, and speak. Navigation was done on the chart table at the fore end of the cabin, and at the aft end, was a longer table for school work, with bench seats. The simple old radio equipment was on the Port side bulk head and small table, with a large rotary transformer in a cupboard below. Gleaming copper tubing led up to a ceramic antenna feed through insulator on the Port side bulkhead, going out to the antenna above.

A winch from the G.S.A.

I can remember nothing much more about the accommodation, I believe our instructor had his own small cabin, but I never saw it. The captain , engineer , and bosun obviously had theirs, but again I know nothing about them. The showers and toilets were somewhat primitive dark and small. I am pretty sure the toilets went straight over the side. Pressing the flush mostly brought a rusty trickle, sometimes however a loud burp and a spray of water and air. It was a bit risky using them! The engine room was something I will never forget. It was really a large space for such a small ship. Lit sparsely via the skylights, and a few yellowish glowing bulbs in safety fittings.

some of the wreckage around the boiler

The centre piece being the really huge compound triple expansion steam engine. To get into the enginroom, I think from the starboard side, was a steep narrow stairwell, this led to a platform above the steam driven donkey generator on an intermediate platform. Maybe we had a second main generator, but I only remember this one, with a large flywheel covered by a flimsy wire mesh guard, driven by a couple of pistons. The whole thing leaking steam from various joints and valves. It was surprisingly quiet, but then it probably only had a power of a few kilowatts. I remember our power supply was 220v DC. Down some more ladders to the engine room main plates. Foreward to the huge boiler and the engine controls. Various pumps, mostly steam driven, a few electric as humps sticking up from the plates. She had been converted to oil burning, so the oil burners flickered, and when running, the enginroom fans roaring and the thickly insulated steam pipes vibrating, made it seem like something from Dante's Inferno.

Wreckage near the stern

We all had to do some watches down there, but it was not something I enjoyed. Wiping down the main engine in the evenings after we stopped was far better. At least then there was no high pressure steam in the pipes. I was always a bit nervous about that. On deck, we were set to chipping and painting. The paint locker in the forepeak, cramped, dim, and full of tins, tools, and smelling heavily of tar and solvents. we were only allowed in there with the Bosun, who dolled out the things we needed for our allocated jobs. He collected and checked them again when we had finished. We always had to clear up after what we had done, and the deck must be swept or hosed down. Considering her age, the ship was in good condition. The Bosun made sure she was kept that way. The deck I seem to recall was quite cramped too. Not a lot of space, and somewhat rusty. I am only 59, but all this was aroundbut all this was around 40 years ago, and the memory dims with time. I tend to mix the Glenstrathallan up with some of the other earlier ships I was on, so I cannot guarantee that the above impressions are totally accurate. ]]> http://www.submerged.co.uk/roy-phillpots-memories.php/feed 0