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Doreen Partridge- The disclaimer
This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Doreen Partridge of the ‘Action Desk — Sheffield’ Team on behalf of Edmund Cross, and has been added to the site with the author’s permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Don’t look back - (Its not there any more) - Part 2
by
Edmund Cross

One morning after first muster, I could tell that there was something afoot. For one thing, there was a considerable amount of smoke coming from the stack and all the other ships were showing that they too had steam up.

About ten thirty that morning, we were nosing out of the harbour with the rest of the fleet following. This time we were told and finally we knew, that we hadn't escaped the war. We were on our way to attack the Japanese installations in the Andaman Islands.

Looking back, I can now admit that 1 was terrified. I had heard so much about war but seen none, unless you would call being bombed in Britain war, which of course it was. I had thought that I was the only one afraid. I have since found out that almost everyone from the top officer to the lowly seaman were s**t scared. After about an hour, our ship, the Q.F., began the traditional zig-zagging, and the rest of the others followed suit. They were all in line ahead playing follow my leader. The zig-zagging was an evasive action before the event. Even without a warning of an attack, by using this method, it was possible to harass the enemy subs.

Torpedoes tended to travel in a straight line in those days, not now of course (2005), they have heat seeking devices and other instruments to target their goal, but that was in the future.

At about the same time we were called to Action Stations, colour yellow. This meant that no action was expected, but lo be on the ready. Anti flash equipment was donned and we were ready and waiting. Notice that I missed out the willing. The gear consisted of a balaclava helmet with a neck and shoulder piece and large gloves all made from asbestos. At least in the event of a fire or an explosion, we would be partially protected from burning of the skin in these vital areas.

Meals were taken in stages so that all parts were manned continuously. Each evening the paravane exercise would take place so that it would become second nature.

Finally came the morning of the first contact with the enemy. A call went out that aircraft were approaching, they had been picked up by the RADAR thirty miles away. We were ready.

They were fighter planes, Zeros, and they were homing in on us, but our fighters from the aircraft carrier the Ranee, were already in the air.
To see battles being fought between small aircraft was so different from seeing it enacted on the cinema screen. Men were actually dying out there.
After about half an hour, the few planes which had survived our onslaught turned tail and fled back to base, the very place we were visiting.
Another call went out for everyone to prepare for broadsides. This meant that the ship would turn so that its side would face the target, this time a shore base. Shells were loaded into the 16" guns and I was scared to death. I had never experienced them firing before. Everybody needed to take cover. I didn't really know what to expect.

I didn't hear the order given to shoot because that instruction went to the gunners in the huge gun turrets. There were four of them, two on the fo'csle and two an the quarter deck. Each had two enormous gun barrels. As I had mentioned earlier each of the shells weighed about ½ a ton.

When the guns went off, the noise of the blast was unbelievable. We had to hold our hands to our ears and open our mouths slightly to compensate for the sudden change in air pressure. The sound of the explosion was unbelievable. The ship heaved in the opposite direction as it used the ocean as part of their recoil.

Then everything which hadn't been secured or fastened down started to fall. Rust, and dust which had been hidden came down as well as tins, pots, plates etc., and that was only the first shot. After waiting to see where the shell had struck, the new range would be supplied.
After about four shots, the Q.E. had found its target, a railway marshalling yard and an oil dump.

Shell after shell went whistling across the water. I wasn't on deck, but had I been there, I wouldn't have seen the strikes because the target was about twenty miles away. It was the aircraft radioing back which told of the hits.

Slowly, the ships formed a circle about a mile and a half across. The one nearest the land lined up and a full broadside was sent off. This kept up a continuous barrage and yet gave the others time to recoup.

We weren't immune however, because the Japanese had been sending out their fighters and bombers. Most of the bombs missed their targets and certainly none of the ships was seriously damaged.
The gunners on the oerlikons and pom-poms were heroes, blasting away at the planes, as the huge guns gave out wave after wave of blasts. If there had been hits, there had been no time to cheer because the next plane would have been homing in.
This went on for the best part of the day. There were obviously no breaks for meals or rests. Everybody was on duty, until one way or another the task had been completed.

The fire fighters were kept on their toes and were at it all the time. No sooner had one fire been extinguished than another would start up again after the enemy bombs came crashing down. Fire on a ship is its worst enemy.

The cooks were heroes too. They kept us all fed with corned beef sandwiches and mugs of tea. They had to take them to the men, since nobody could leave their posts. I can't remember what we did about the toilet. Considering that there were about 1,400 men aboard, it must have been some task for the cooks to take on.

Everybody was all in; totally shattered when the action came to an end. That was late the same day. We were standing off from Port Blair in the Andaman Islands off the west coast of Malaya.

Towards evening, when our surviving planes had returned to the carrier, the admiral spoke over the tannoy.

Everybody lay around exhausted but rest was not to be. All the mess which had been caused by the enemy action, had to be cleared up. We had to be prepared for any further action. It wasn't a nine to five job. After all, next time it could be us who were attacked. The war didn't stop at tea time.
Yellow alert was back with us throughout the night. Breakfast was a specially good cooked meal. Once again provided by our over tired cooks. We had looked forward to a day of rest, but that wasn't to be.

We had been sailing further south and overnight, we had approached the Nicobar Islands.

This time all Hell was let loose and we didn't have it all our own way.
We were attacked before any guns were fired, and shrapnel rained all around us. They must have had advanced warning from the previous bombardment.
I had to work hard, repairing the phones which seemed to be always breaking down. Most were from the gun turrets. I would take a handful of fresh ones and race back to my little caboose to get started with the repairs.

Smoke filled the air and the smell of cordite was one which I couldn't forget. My throat stung with it.
It was about noon that day that the first kamikazi plane came at us. Fortunately it went straight into the drink.
Kamikazi, or suicide planes were loaded with high explosives with the pilot fastened in. He would be in disgrace if he should return to his base, none were expected back.
Our seaplane deck had a hit by one of them and a couple hit each other because they were both aiming for the same spot. To them, I don't suppose that it mattered; they got the result they expected, death. It was a very scary situation.
After some time, everything went quiet. I guess they all destroyed themselves one way or another.

BOOM, BOOM. Straight away the 16" guns began pounding the shore base. This time it was an air field and once again we were successful.
There was a huge pall of smoke rising above the horizon for all to see and I could envisage the chaos we must have caused.

Although I didn't like the Japanese, I couldn't help but think how sad it was that people who had never known or seen each other should set out to destroy each other. All the time, the ones who started it all would have been reasonably safe back home directing everything from a deep shelter.

It was obvious that our officers knew more than we did (it was to be hoped so), because we continued to circle with the other ships round and round, chasing our tails. Firing broadside after broadside with each ship taking turns.

Around 4pm. A new wave of fighters came from further south. They must have been reinforcements from another base.
The pom-poms and oerlikans started up again, and this continued well into the night. As the darkness fell around, the tracers could be seen racing towards their targets.

Tracers are shells which burn up as they streak out, showing the path the gunners arc following, they are interspaced amongst the barrage of normal ones. Ships were being hit but not crippled. So far I seemed to have been leading a charmed life, but I had begun to think that it was finally going to catch up with me at last.

We only had minor injuries aboard. Some of the other ships were not so lucky. Two of the smaller ships were sunk in that action.
This sort of thing went on and on. I thought it would never end. How the ships were able to take the battering they did without going down I would never know.

This action lasted an and off for about a week. In all that time we only had one cooked meal, though that was the last thing on our minds. Our hearts went out to the cooks who had to provide sustenance to keep us all going. Without them and their courage, taking food and drink to everyone aboard, things could easily have been different.
Eventually the fleet turned and made its way back to Trincomalee our home base.

Pr-BR

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