大象传媒

JOHN BARTLETT
Life in the Services, 1939 鈥� 1946

Chapter 3
鈥淪eaman sees the world鈥�

Eventually, we reached Cape Town in South Africa (without losing any of the convoy). There we were given an exceptional welcome. All the girls told us we were going to Rio de Janeiro in Brazil (despite wartime security). After about ten days steaming Westward we docked in Rio Harbour with the Royal Marine Band playing, and the four-inch guns firing a twenty-one gun salute. We had spent days painting and bleaching the decks so it was a very special occasion.

All the South American countries were neutral. It was therefore important to create a good impression to get them on our side in the war.

The jetty was lined with huge cars beeping V's on their horns (in Morse code). Sailors were lined up for inspection by the officer of the watch then dismissed, whereupon a girl or her mother would grab a sailor and cart him off to their car. Hospitality was overwhelming. All the girls in Rio told us we were going down to the Falkland Islands (top security - again). Rio was a beautiful city and the visit left a big impression on everybody.

The girls were right. We arrived some time later in Port Stanley - very different, bleak and cold.

Then started an extraordinary series of activities. We would steam back North of Rio, build dummy funnels or dummy guns formed from canvas and wood and then painted grey, proceed to steam South towards the Falklands, but just in sight of land - if you had a good pair of binoculars! The intention was to convince the South Americans that a large fleet of ships was gathering in the Falklands. In fact, except for our tanker, which came out to supply us with oil, we were the only British ship within one thousand miles.

International law stated that ships involved in wartime activities were allowed into the neutral ports only every three months, except in emergencies. The result was we could not go back to Rio, so we went to Buenos Aires in the Argentine, or Montevideo in Uruguay. The reception in both of these ports was even more dramatic than in Rio. This was mainly because we arrived shortly after the River Plate Battle with the Graf Spee, which resulted in us, as the British Navy, being regarded as the heroes.

Despite this, we had to be very careful in B.A. because there were several German ships in the harbour. When we went ashore then entered a restaurant, we found ourselves sitting at a table near to a group of German sailors - like us, also in uniform.

On one of our visits to Port Stanley, in the Falklands, I got together with three other lads (like me, hoping one day to be officers - like me, newcomers to the Birmingham) and persuaded them to go ashore for a change. We went for a walk, as there was nothing else to do. Imagine our surprise - in the middle of nowhere, with grass and sheep, we saw, like a mirage, a girl walking her dog. Needless to say, we went up to talk to her. We were soon invited back to her house. Being a bit stupid, we never asked ourselves who was this strange girl who lived in a rather splendid house? After tea and records the time had flown. We suddenly realised we were late for the boat to take us back to the ship! We raced to the jetty to see the boat disappearing out of sight. There alongside however, was the Admiral's barge (motorboat) - (I forgot to mention we were joined by an Admiral shortly after leaving South Africa). The Coxswain said we could wait in the boat if we kept out of sight. Eventually, we got back to the ship where we were given 'Captain's Report' (a kind of court before the Captain) for being late. The result was no more shore leave for a week. The next day we saw the Admiral's barge coming towards the ship with the girl. Next we were asked to report to the Chaplain's cabin - there was the girl with an attach茅 case of champagne and sandwiches! It then emerged she was the Governor's daughter, and it was the Governor's house where we had been entertained. After a while, the internal telephone rang. The Chaplain answered a call from the Officer of the watch, who said the Captain is on his way! The Captain opened the cabin door and said, "Oh, I don't think I am wanted here", and left.

Whilst in the Falklands we sent up the three Walrus aircraft each day to photograph every inlet - searching for enemy submarine bases. The islands are large, sometimes the only communication from one to another was by boat or on horseback. It would have been possible for a large fleet of enemy ships or submarines to be hidden for months without the rest of the world knowing anything of them.

It was for this reason we had a system of semi-readiness for battle at sea. Therefore, we carried out the very wearing ritual of 'one watch on and one watch off'. At the same time, we continually cruised at about twenty-two knots all the time. This was just faster than any known enemy submarine. This was a punishing lifestyle - never more than three and three quarter hours sleep at any time. The system of dog watches - two hours on and two hours off in the early evening ensured a change of times of watch or sleep each day.

Because of this watch on - watch off every four hours, some of us were allowed to sleep, if you could, at your station - be it on a gun or in a control tower, or wherever.

Each morning to add to the agony, we had dawn action stations. This meant that wherever you were, either watch keeping or sleeping, you had, at half an hour before dawn, to go to your action station (everybody, even cooks, had an action station). The idea being that as dawn arose it was easier to see an enemy ship silhouetted against the skyline as the sun came up.

One morning after dawn action stations had been called, there was no sign of John Bartlett at his action station. This was eighty feet above the water in the Gunnery Control Tower with three other officers.

The news was announced on the loud speaker system, search parties were set to work, the ship ceased its twenty-two knots then went into reverse with flood lights blazing over the surface of the water, searching for a body (all this was because we had already lost two others overboard - presumed suicide). Each morning at action stations it was normal practice to test all guns and equipment. Testing guns meant training them up and down, and swivelling them from side to side. This particular morning, the seaman trying to swivel the four-inch gun from side to side found it kept jamming. The Petty Officer in charge was called but he couldn't make out was wrong. Eventually he looked under the gun platform to find a ball of duffel coat, which he hauled out. In it he found little O/S Bartlett inside! He had been sleeping on the steel deck away from the seawater dashing over the gun. Once again, this misdemeanour was overlooked, as it was "sort of permissible". Sometime during this period I was promoted to Able Seaman!

I was sorry to leave H.M.S. Birmingham, despite the hardships, the long period without any leave, and the monotony of continuous watch keeping, because of the wonderful friendships made with my mess mates (five of them couldn't read or write - I wrote their letters for them) and because of the memorable incidents and places we had visited.

The storms were the main memory. When off the West African coast, the seas were so wild that the sea continually smashed down on the fo'castle so that the round steel pillars supporting the deck became crinkled like a piece of modern plastic flexible piping.

Approaching the mouth of the River Plate, the ship rolled so much from side to side it was almost possible to walk on the bulkheads (walls) of the ship rather than the deck. We felt sure the ship would capsize.

Although the Horn is famous for terrible storms, our experience of going round and back twice was only marked by the wind and the immense swell.

The other unusual experience was steaming into the Magellan Straits to a back of beyond place called Punta Arenas in the most Southern tip of Chile. Reputed to be, at one time, the richest place in the world when calculated on the highest average wealth per head of population. It was a gold rush town - and looked like it! Only a few officers were allowed ashore, but they hardly caused a stir when they entered the 'English Club' because members barely looked over their 'Times' to see who had entered. On the return journey, we were once again struck by the miles and miles of flat, bleak, stony shores of Chile. No trees, no vegetation, not a blade of grass - just large pebbles!

But perhaps the most extraordinary visit was to Tristan da Cuna Island, reputed to be the loneliest island in the world. About two thousand five hundred miles from Montevideo in Uruguay to the West, and two thousand five hundred miles from Cape Town in South Africa to the East, four thousand miles from Freetown in the North, and one thousand eight hundred miles from South Georgia in the South. Although only a volcanic rock jutting out of the sea, it had a population of about two hundred men and women.

We dropped anchor about quarter of a mile off shore. Some of the men rowed out to the ship and clambered up the ladder lowered for them. The first thing the head of the island asked the Captain was whether he could send some sailors ashore to increase the population!

On the cliff tops we could see (by using binoculars) a group of maidens on the hillside dressed in long white dresses, looking longingly in the direction of the ship. Only the Chaplain went ashore!

Mentioning South Georgia as the nearest place (some one thousand five hundred miles to the South), we visited it whilst searching the seas for signs of enemy activities. It seemed not unlike Iceland - miles of snow capped mountains jutting out of the sea!

So in all this cruising around, we experienced great extremes of heat and cold, calm and storm. We saw wonderful sights of flying fish, porpoise, seals and birds of every kind including the unusual albatross.

Finally, we were recalled to Cape Town. By this time, I was getting desperate to get home and try for a commission. As there was no chance of the Birmingham returning to the U.K. I was left in Cape Town (16 June 1941) to find my own way

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