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When the war ended, there was still plenty of work for the three services. Naval, Military, and Air Force bases were being set up in Germany — mostly on sites previously held by German forces.
I was sent together with another coxswain to List, on the northern tip of Sylt, where the Germans had a flying boat base, to open up a R.A.F. Marine Craft Base. My fellow coxswain was from the Air/Sea Rescue Base at Gorleston, and one of the very best. His name was Sam Cennamo, and he was the sort of chap who could always be cheerful in the face of adversity.
When we arrived on the island, it was by means of the small train that, at low tide, found its way across the causeway that connected the island to the mainland.
We spent the first night at Westerland in the centre of the island, where the parent station was based, complete with a squadron of Typhoons. The Commanding Officer — a young looking Group Captain — became a frequent visitor to List, where he always asked (?) if he might take the wheel of a seaplane tender before opening up the throttles and taking the boat on what were called ‘trial runs’.
At List we were shown to our billets by the local Burgomaster, who impressed us with the knowledge that the previous tenants had been officers of the Luftwaffe. The Orderly Room was presided over by a Flight Sergeant who, having made us welcome, went on to say that there were no boats on the base, and that one of my first jobs would be to go to Hamburg to bring back a newly arrived seaplane tender from England. For this purpose I had been allocated two German ex-sailors — Stegman and Somers. Together with an English wireless operator, they were to be my crew.
We travelled together to Hamburg, where we were met by a very helpful Corporal from the Embarkation Unit, who took us to the harbour to inspect the seaplane tender. It had been treated to withstand the salt water rigours of the sea crossing, and was looking decidedly grubby and oil covered. The two Germans, having declined to fill in the long questionnaires required by the authorities should they want to leave the harbour area, set to work to clean the boat up, and during the next few days, had it looking as if it had just left the builders. Having obtained the necessary papers from the harbour authorities including the weather report, we set off to List.
As we approached the island we found a drowned man in the water, who we subsequently found out was a swimmer from the Danish island of Rom, which is quite close to Sylt. My crew were not keen on picking the poor fellow up — he had been in the water for several days — but we didn’t have any option, and used a blanket and stretcher to bring him back to the harbour at List. I can remember asking the local police to keep the many children away from the harbour steps while we bought him ashore, before being taken away by the local fire engine — the only transport available for the purpose.
Our duties at List were not very demanding, consisting mostly of dumping German ammunition in the deepest water we could find, plus some occasional target towing for the Typhoons.
There was, at the time, a D.P. (Displaced Persons) holding camp at List, occupied by different kinds of displaced people- mostly refugees of different races. One day I was passing the camp gates, en route for the harbour, when a little girl of perhaps three or four years, held out her hands, asking for ‘Chocolade, bon-bon’ and even ‘Cigarrette for Pa-Pa’ which made me think she had been well coached! However, as luck would have it, I did have a small bar of chocolate in my pocket, which I gave her before going on my way.
This was a mistake. When I returned later that day, there was a crowd of youngsters, plus a few adults, waiting for me, all with outstretched hands, which I had no means of filling. I finally made my way through the crowd, but had to work out a different route to the harbour for the future!
List was my last operational station. In August 1946 I received my travel warrant to return to England to be de-mobbed. Since that time I have kept in touch with other men who also served in the Marine Craft Service, although over the years their numbers have gradually decreased. One such man is Bob Davies, who served with me on LRRC (Long Range Rescue Craft) O16, and for many years after the war, served with distinction the office of Treasurer for the R.A.F. Air-Sea Rescue/Marine Craft Section Club, which still flourishes

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