大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Dominic Penny of Link into Learning on behalf of Kenneth Peberdy. The story was originally submitted to the HMS Jamaica Association and has been added to this site posthumously.

Among members of the HMS Jamaica Association there has been a tendency for us to think that Jamaica鈥檚 war ended when she was docked for refit at Portsmouth in October 1944, and we have always spoken of the members who served aboard before then as 鈥榯he wartime commission鈥�. Korea was far into the future, and one writer has referred to the East Indies commission (1945-1947) as 鈥榯he lull between the storms, a time of regattas and ban-yan parties鈥�. The truth could have been dreadfully different and, as she lay in the dockyard being torn apart through the winter months, a future had been planned for the ship that would have been even more hazardous than the dangers she had already faced on Russian convoys. So perhaps those of us on board from May 8th 1945 when she was recommissioned can also claim some entitlement to be included in 鈥楾he Wartime Commissions鈥�.

The catapult had been removed (the ship鈥檚 two Walrus aircraft had departed long before to reduce top weight and fire hazard) and the two cranes replaced by a single one on the centre line. Two multiple pom-pom mountings had been substituted for 鈥榅鈥� turrets and on every available space on the upper deck were fitted close range anti-aircraft mountings, 20 mm Oerlikons and 40 mm Bofors. New radar aerials appeared on the fore and main masts and, alongside the after funnel, a third mast sprouted, topped with a radar reflector.

In May the first party was sent on Foreign Service leave, which coincided with VE Day, a great time to be a serviceman on leave! On return to the ship they were issued with clothing covering tropical and Arctic conditions which led to the buzz that, unless we were going to fight the Russians, the only war left to go to was the Pacific. This rumour was further strengthened in June when the remains of the old dazzle camouflage and dockyard red lead were covered in a full 鈥榩aint ship鈥� carried out in one day. This was done to ready the ship for a journey that night to the recently freed Channel Islands, carrying Their Majesties King George VI and Queen Elizabeth, and the ship emerged painted light grey, with a false silhouette of dark grey covering the armoured belt.

After a work-up at Portland, Jamaica ammunitioned at Devonport, but her sailing was delayed by the news of the Japanese surrender and each watch was given a short home leave. The ship then sailed for Malta, where she joined and worked-up with Glasgow, the first sight of that ship revealing that she had undergone a similar refit, including the addition of the third mast.

The two ships then sailed east through the Suez Canal and across the Indian Ocean, arriving in Ceylon at the beginning of October. Jamaica reached Singapore later in the month, when Lord Louis Mountbatten, the Supreme Allied Commander (South East Asia) leaped up onto the forward capstan and spoke to the assembled ship鈥檚 company. After expressing his pride in the fact that it was the British XIVth Army that had defeated the Japanese in that theatre of war (NOT Errol Flynn!) causing such a rout that the Japanese C-in-C was forced to ask Mountbatten for information on the whereabouts of his troops so that he could pass the order for them to surrender, Lord Louis went on to lift for the first time the veil of secrecy that still covered the plans for Jamaica and Glasgow.

In their island hopping clearance on enemy held territory right across the Pacific, the Americans had led the invasion fleets with groups of carriers whose aircraft were to follow up the initial heavy naval bombardment and cover the landings with bomb, rocket and cannon attacks. Up to fifty miles in front of the carrier groups were stationed two destroyers to act as assembly points for outgoing aircraft and homing stations for those returning. The Japanese had caught on to this and were infiltrating their own planes among the returning squadrons to attack the Airguard destroyers. Finally they used the feared Kamikaze, manned by pilots who suicidally dived their explosive packed machines into the target, and these were so effective that most of these destroyers did not survive for longer than a few days.

As the war in Europe moved towards its end, more and more British ships became available for the Pacific, with plans for them to join the greatest invasion force ever assembled in history for the final assault on the Japanese homelands. Because of the excessive losses among the Airguard destroyers it was decided that cruisers should be used instead. It was optimistically estimated that by doing this, their life expectancy could be increased to between two to four weeks!

Jamaica and Glasgow had been allocated for this task, and it was now that the secret of the strange third mast was revealed 鈥� it carried the YE beacon on which the returning aircraft (and their accompanying Kamikazes) would home.

Until now the Americans had insisted that all British ships joining the Pacific Fleet must undergo a working up period in Australia learning to work with the Fleet Trains and other USN forces, but they had agreed to forego this training for the two cruisers and they would have joined the Fleet without going near Australia. Lord Louis said that this was because, if news of the ships mission had leaked out, he considered it unlikely that enough hands would still have been in sight to man the ships when they were due to sail. This was possibly realistic, but did not display much faith in the morale of our crews.

Lord Louis finished by telling the ship鈥檚 company that the expected casualties in the invasion would have been colossal as the Japanese were certain to defend their home islands with even greater fanaticism than they had previously displayed, and that the dropping of the two atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki had saved countless thousands of lives, both Allied and Japanese and in particular those of the crews of our two cruisers.

It was a strangely quiet ship鈥檚 company who returned to the mess decks to discuss what had just been revealed to us. One thing was certain, that the dramatic end to the war had given us back the chance of a future that would have been denied to us, and any nuclear disarmament campaigners who have had the misfortune to approach my door in the years since then have retired with a savage attack of earache.

Jamaica carried released Prisoners of War back to Ceylon on the first leg of their long journey home, and remained the East Indies Fleet for another two years. We were proud to wear our SEAC flashes, but many of the ship鈥檚 company had only seen their families for a matter of days right through the war, and morale sank to a very low ebb. As one officer put it 鈥淔or us the war did not end until November 1947 when we returned to Plymouth鈥�, but at least we did come back.

Minefield

In the 1940鈥檚 Trincomalee, in the north east of what was then called Ceylon (now named Sri Lanka), was the base for the East Indies Fleet. The huge bay with its narrow entrance made a beautiful place in which to spend leisure time, and there were facilities for all sorts of activities from ban-yan parties ashore to swimming with dolphins in the clear translucent waters (although the erection of a shark net on the beach at Sober Island gave rise to second thoughts on this one!). A naval canteen at Pepper Pot Pier provided the opportunity to indulge in some mild drinking, although beer was rationed by the issue of three vouchers per man per week, and was drunk from glasses made by cutting off the top half of empty bottles. I believe that a city now surrounds the harbour, which is heavily polluted.

In 1991 I read an article in the magazine Warship World which caused a sharp intake of breath. Due to the restrictions imposed on the use of fuel oil after the war, Jamaica and Glasgow spent a lot of time moored in Trinco. In the last few months of 1946 one of the 鈥榮itting on the upper deck鈥� activities was watching two 鈥楽mokey Joe鈥� trawlers, Dabchick and Redshank, puttering around the harbour, each accompanied by its own black cloud. Now and again there drifted across the still waters the sound of heavy hammering, which was cursed for disturbing the dozing. What none of us knew then was that we had spent all that time sitting in the middle of a minefield. After the mini-Pearl Harbour attacks on Colombo and Trinco by Japanese carrier aircraft in April 1942, the prelude to an intended invasion, both harbours were heavily sown with mines which were connected by armoured electrical cables to control detonation.

The two trawlers had the job of clearing these, by grappling and heaving in the cables. When a mine came to the surface it was hoisted up to the stern and the detonator removed 鈥� with a cold chisel and seven pound hammer. The writer of the article, Able Seaman Lindop, was drafted from a cushy shore job to do this and said that it caused a drift of all hands to the bow, by those not familiar with the practice. Needless to say, this was a somewhat futile exercise as, had one of the mines exploded, it would have scattered the trawler all over a large part of Ceylon.

When several corroded and barnacle encrusted mines and a pile of cable in similar condition had been accumulated, they were taken out and ditched in deep water, where I suppose they still lie today. In retrospect, I am glad that our ignorance was such bliss.

Contributor: Kenneth Peberdy (Ex Petty Officer) 1928-1999

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