大象传媒

CHARLES GEORGE STOAKES

Charles George Stoakes was born 2nd March 1899 in Grimsby, Lincolnshire. He volunteered to join the Royal Marines in 1917. After his initial training at Deal in Kent he was posted to Plymouth Division where he joined HMS Tiger, a Battlecruiser and one of the largest ships in the Royal Navy.
In 1919 the Fleet was being reduced in accordance with the Washington Agreement and he was discharged from the Royal Marines on 23rd April 1919. The following day he transferred to the Royal Navy for a Term of Engagement of 12 years, but remained to serve as a member of the crew of HMS Tiger.
On 17th August he was transferred to HMS Tormentor, a Destroyer, until 9th March 1922 when he was given a free discharge ashore.
On 28th April 1925 Charles George enrolled in the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve.

1939-45 War
In 1938 we were living in Luton, having moved from Grimsby two years previously but the storm clouds were gathering and my father being a Royal Navy Volunteer Reservist, was mobilised briefly and reported to his depot at Plymouth.
When war was declared on 3rd September 1939, my father immediately reported to the local Police Station for duty. On 4th October he reported to HMS Pembroke, Chatham. After three weeks he was told to report to HMS Eropa at Lowestoft,the head-quarters of the Royal Naval Patrol Service,with the unusual name of Sparrow鈥檚 Nest. It was here that the volunteers assembled to join their various ships.
The Royal Naval Patrol Service was a Navy within the Royal Navy, which had been developed from the pre-war Royal Naval Reserve (Trawler Section).
The ship my father was assigned to was the Lady Elsa who, I believe, had been a private yacht but was now a 鈥榤inor war vessel鈥� and now supported a compliment of twenty-six men.
She must have looked like a Queen when compared to the coal-burning trawlers, drifters and whalers which had been brought in from the fishing grounds of the North Sea and Iceland.
The interior had been converted, and the exterior of the ship had been dressed for war with ancient guns, most of which had been used to fight World War I. There was a twelve-pounder gun, two Lewis machine guns and a twin Lewis gun aft. Possibly they would carry two, or perhaps four, depth-charges in case they should make the acquaintance of a submarine. A lick of grey Admiralty paint and these ships were ready for war 鈥� all 43 of them were now considered to be 鈥渇ighting ships鈥�.
Prior to the outbreak of war the Admiralty had marked out a channel circling the British Isles, now called a "main highway". It varied from a couple of miles wide in some parts to no more than a few hundred yards in others, all of which had to be constantly swept. The enemy laying mines as quickly as we cleared them.
This motley selection of boats soon earned the nickname of 鈥楬arry Tates鈥� Navy鈥�, after the famous comedian of the 1920鈥檚 and 30鈥檚 who was eternally confounded by modern gadgets and contraptions, the embodiment of the ordinary man struggling with irritations he could not control. Despite having Royal Navy Officers in charge, the casual haphazard atmosphere of the fishermen鈥檚 navy persisted, as did its fiercely stubborn independence.
Off they went, these 鈥榤inor war vessels鈥�, to the bitter waters of the Northern Patrol, to the Channel and 鈥楨 boat Alley鈥�, to the Atlantic and Arctic convoys, to the U-boat ridden US east coast, Gibraltar and the Mediterranean, Africa, the Indian Ocean and the Far East. Vessels, many of them as old, or older, than their outdated guns, made astonishing journeys of thousands of miles.
The Lady Elsa was one of those assigned to the 鈥淲estern Approaches鈥� being responsible for keeping the 鈥楬ighway鈥� lanes cleared of mines on Britain's west coast leading to the ports of Liverpool etc. to enable the convoys to deliver their much needed supplies.
They swept much as they had done in the Great War by twos and sometimes in fours, towing a tough wire between them which cut the moorings of a mine releasing it to float to the surface.On deck four men stood waiting with their rifles ready as the mine surfaced ready to aim at the protruding detonators and thereby explode the mine.
At first it was the simple moored mine the enemy was laying, but before long the German鈥檚 had perfected the sinister magnetic mine which was followed the acoustic mine. The real headache came when the enemy started laying a cocktail of all three mines. To fight them all these 鈥榤inor war-ships鈥� were festooned with wires, sound apparatus and electric cables. This was the nightmare these men had to face each night, and every day, which required nerves of steel.
In this first year of the war the losses of boats were staggering 鈥� nearly ten per cent of the entire force went down (or up) and it was touch and go whether they could keep the supply lines open.
It was quite a surprise in early 1940, they received the order to return to base as they were required for service elsewhere. They were informed that they were to act as escorts to a fleet of warships and provide anti-submarine protection for the troopships.
On arrival in Norwegian waters they were given the task of ferrying the troops ashore. But, as it transpired, the German Army was already in control of all the important ports of Christiansund, Trondheim, Bergen, Stavenger and Narvik, in order to secure their iron-ore traffic with Scandinavia.
The Germans had complete air-superiority and some of the ships and their escorts underwent devastating air attacks. In bitterly contested Narvik where my father was, were some two thousand of the enemy and more arriving hourly. The British attack on 10th April 1940 on enemy warships and transports in Narvik Fjord was beaten off.
Whenever possible the crews of the minesweepers went briefly ashore to chop down small firs and branches from the larger trees, and any evergreen shrubs. This was brought back to the ship in the lifeboat and then draped over the decks and rigging as a camouflage against the constant searching of the enemy aircraft. Soon a number of minesweepers were steaming about the fiords looking like mobile Christmas trees. A passing sloop taking a good look at their camouflage, signaled 鈥淭he decorations look pretty 鈥� when is the wedding?鈥�
On the 13th April, out of a severe snow storm, appeared the welcome sight of the 30,000 ton battleship Warspite, with her accompanying nine destroyers, on their way to stir things up!
Contact was made with the enemy at 12.30 p.m. and developed into a series of running fights. Two hours later, three of the enemy battleships were at the bottom of the Fjord and four other destroyers were vainly trying to escape. They were relentlessly pursued by His Majesty鈥檚 Navy until they were finally beached and abandoned by their crews.
It was during this attack that my father had a very lucky escape. He was on the deck of the Lady Elsa and well wrapped in his overcoat against the bitter arctic weather when a piece of shrapnel passed four times through his overcoat.
My father had no time to reflect on his lucky escape as, in one of the swiftest turnabouts of the war, those troops of the Expeditionary Force who had been taken ashore only a few days ago, now had to be evacuated.
The Expeditionary Force had been involved in fierce fighting against far superior numbers and it soon became obvious that the end was close. H.M.S. Glasgow was ordered into Narvik to bring out King Haakon and Crown Prince Olaf to safety.
The action had lasted three short weeks and the evacuation of Norway commenced on the 2nd May, although the fighting in Narvik continued for another month. Their losses were many as well as fourteen trawlers, all falling victim to enemy planes.
This evacuation didn鈥檛 make the headlines because a much larger evacuation was taking place on the beaches at Dunkirk.
On my father鈥檚 next home leave he brought the piece of shrapnel which so nearly cost him his life. He told us where he had been and the battle he had witnessed in Narvik Fjord.
On her return to home waters the Lady Elsa resumed her duties and was again sweeping the Western Approaches and escorting convoys safely through the swept channels.
On 17th January 1941 my father was once again at HMS Europa (Sparrows Nest). He joined HMS Antioch (a peacetime trawler) but only sailed with her for six months.
Meanwhile the Lady Elsa went into dock for a re-fit and, once ready for duty, she was ordered to the other side of the Atlantic to sweep the eastern sea-board of the United States. On arrival the ship was fitted out 鈥楢merican fashion鈥� with air conditioning, iced water fountains, coding machines and typewriters. Any time ashore the American hospitality came to the fore and the crew had never known such luxury. The Lady Elsa was to spend the rest of the war serving in many different parts of the world and surviving the six long years.
At home the war continued hard for Harry Tate鈥檚 Navy, more than thirty vessels being lost in the first three months of 1941, and the losses piled up with each succeeding month.
On 11th October my father was informed that he was to join HMS Ullswater. When he first set eyes on her he could hardly believe what he saw. Anything less like a minor British warship it would have been hard to imagine. Named after one of the most beautiful lakes in the country, she was anything but beautiful. After the Lady Elsa the Ullswater was a very poor substitute.
The Ullswater had been built as a Norwegian Whaler of 555 tons, Registration No. KOS XX1V, her dimensions being 138ft x 26ft. She carried 1鈥�12 pdr. Gun and 1.20 Smiths DK and was purchased by the Ministry of Defence on 26th August 1939 and joined the Patrol Service on 15th November 1939. She was a sturdy Antarctic whaler built for the most inhospitable and relentless of oceans, doing one of the toughest and bloodiest of jobs - that of killing whales.
The Ullswater carried a crew of twenty-six, ten of whom were aged under 25, the youngest crew member being a Stoker aged 20 yrs, and three members of the crew being in their 40鈥檚. The Officer in Charge was Lieut. Cameron Ross of Glasgow and his Sub-Lieut RNVR Thomas Moss RNVR.
The ships of the Patrol Service were ever prominent, patrolling and minesweeping and adding their names to the spiraling list of casualties; and by the beginning of 1942 the total number of ships sunk in Harry Tates Navy had increased to nearly 300, by far the largest losses of any section of the fighting fleet.
By late summer, HMS Ullswater was on nightly escort duty taking convoys of colliers through the English Channel, one of the most hazardous and dangerous of waters with the name of 鈥楨鈥� boat alley. It had been named as such because of the menace of the fast German 鈥楨鈥� boats which were heavily armed, and carried a full compliment of torpedoes, operating each night from their bases on the French coast.
On the channel convoys it was usual for five trawlers to sweep abreast, to be followed by a Destroyer and then the merchant ships, mostly colliers, which were bringing coal from the Welsh coal mines to the power stations on the Thames, the railway system being unable to cope with the amount of coal now required.
When the convoys reached the Straits of Dover, because the channel at this point was quite narrow, trawlers broke formation with only two continuing to sweep with shortened depths, the other trawlers becoming additional escorts as they approached their destination.
It was only after the hours of darkness had descended, that the convoy once again started its slow, painful journey back to south Wales in order to once again fill the holds of the colliers. The trawlers shepherded their flock ready to start the overnight journey back to South Wales and prayed for a quiet night.
On the night of 19th November 1942, HMS Ullswater was sweeping and escorting a convoy of colliers and others, through the English Channel. Having successfully negotiated the narrowest part of the channel and the nightly barrage from the German guns positioned on the French coast near Calais, the next danger would come from the 鈥楨鈥� boats.
No one slept. Everyone was on the alert. It was seldom the men off watch went below to their bunks. They had seen too many trawlers lurch as an explosion hit them; had extended a helping hand to too many survivors, and heard too many stories of those who were trapped below.
Those not on duties curled up for an odd hours doze and could be found grouped round the funnel base where it was warm. It was a nightly ritual to sit and wait.
As usual the watching eyes were keeping a sharp look out for anything untoward happening; the gunners were behind their guns, the Commander was in the wheelhouse, every member of the crew was in their allotted place, ears listening for every sound of the night.
It was a little after midnight, the moon had risen and the convoy of ships could be plainly seen as it was making slow progress. Just the sort of night everyone dreaded. They were some 12 miles south of Portsmouth and approaching the Eddystone Lighthouse when, suddenly, there was a shout from a look-out and everyone was galvanized into activity. They were under attack.
The trawlers and escorts, although outgunned, put up a gallant resistance in defending their convoy when suddenly there was a tremendous explosion as a torpedo hit the Birgitte, a 1595 ton Ministry of War Transporter. Seconds later, in utter disbelief, came the sound of a second explosion which once again lit the night sky as the next torpedo struck home and the much smaller Yew Forest of 815 tons registered to J Stewart and Co. suffered the same fate as the Birgitte.
Almost simultaneously, a third torpedo ripped through the nearest escorting trawler and in seconds a spume of water shot sky-wards. As it settled back their was no sign of the Ullswater, this old whaler, or the Birgitte and Yew Forest or any member of their gallant crews. That which the crew of the Ullswater had dreaded as she swept the seas for mines for three difficult years had come to pass. It is not known how many young, and brave, lives were ended in this one action. The 鈥楨鈥� boats had scuttled away to their base in France, very pleased with their night鈥檚 work and the Ullswater became just another one to be added to the appalling losses of the trawlers, drifters, whalers and other craft that comprised the unlikely named 鈥榳arships鈥� manned by the Royal Naval Patrol Service.
The following day, the 20th November 1942, Luton. There was a knock on the front door and there stood the telegram boy, he said 鈥楽orry鈥� to my mother as he handed over the dreaded buff envelope; the telegram had duly arrived! It was hardly necessary for my mother to read the contents, she knew the message it contained 鈥� she had lived this moment many times over the past three years.
The Telegram read:

IMMEDIATE PRIORITY MRS BESSIE STOAKES DEEPLY REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR HUSBAND CHARLES GEORGE STOAKES IS MISSING PRESUMED KILLED ON WAR SERVICE = PATROLS LOWESTOFT.

A consolation letter was received later from the King and Queen expressing their sympathy.
On the 12th January 1943 a grateful nation (in the guise of the Ministry of Pensions) informed my mother that, as from the 25th February 1943, she would be entitled to a War Widows Pension amounting to a total of 拢1 11s 0d per week being the equivalent today of 拢1.55p; this to cover clothing and feeding herself, paying her mortgage, rates, and all other household expenses.
For two dependent children there would be a further allowance of 16s 6d . . . . . equivalent today of 82陆p per week (41p for each child) making a total income of 拢2 7s 6d (拢2. 37陆p) per week. A poverty wage! Consequently, my mother had to work until she was aged 60 and the lives of my brother and myself altered dramatically.

CHARLES GEORGE STOAKES was not the only member of his family to sacrifice his life in the 1939/45 war, but the last. His three cousins who also did not survive the war are named as follows:

Gnr. ALEC INCH 鈥� 65 Field Regiment, Royal Artillery who died aged 22 years on Wednesday, 29th May 1940. Buried Malo-Les-Bains Communal Cemetary, nr Dunkirk, Nord, France. Three months later his brother :
Stoker 2nd class SHELDON INCH (brother of the above) - HMS Godetia, Royal Navy, who died aged 19 years on Friday, 6th September 1940. Remembered with Honour on the Naval Memorial, Portsmouth. Their cousin:
Stoker 1st class RICHARD SHELDON STOAKES 鈥� HMS Calcutta, Royal Navy, who died aged 21 years on Sunday 1st June 1941 . Remembered with honour on the Naval Memorial at Chatham, Kent.

Submitted by Georgina Rayner (nee Stoakes)
December 2005.

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