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My father, Herbert Geoffrey Hall - Geoff Hall — was born in Macclesfield, Cheshire, in 1911, and died in retirement in North Wales in 2002, aged 90. During the Second World War he served in the Merchant Navy. He kept a diary of his experiences from which he later prepared accounts of some of the more memorable and important of these. This is Part One of his account of some of his time on salvage work in the Mediterranean.

Val Myers (nee Hall)

MEDITERRANEAN SALVAGE (PART ONE)

I was trying very hard for a Chief's job and just missed a couple when they asked me if I would go as senior Second on a Salvage Ship working on the west coast of Scotland. As the pay was very good and I had always been interested in salvage work I accepted. Arriving in Gourock, and on board the Salvage Vessel Salvestor by about midnight, I was surprised to find everybody sitting in the saloon, chatting and drinking. They told me we were sailing in the morning. Me: "Where to, have we got a job?" They said "We don't know where we are going." A fortnight later after touring all round the N. Atlantic we found ourselves in Gibralter.
The Salvestor was one of several salvage ships built during the war and operated under the blue ensign, i.e. Merchant vessels under Naval control. Whilst we carried a RN Salvage Officer, the rest of the crew were MN with the exception of 4 DEMS gunners (Defensively Equipped Merchant Ships) who were carried by all Merchant ships with any armament. Our wages were paid by the Liverpool and Glasgow Salvage Association, a long established firm, but we had little contact with them, being entirely at the beck and call of the Navy.
The ship itself was quite unusual, being about 2000 tons dw, twin screw with two engines, each of about 1000 HP, and the engine room crammed with other machinery like special pumps and firefighting equipment. We had two holds, the forward one being loaded with portable pumps, compressors, and a wide range of hose pipes, diving gear, etc. The after hold was a splendid workshop with a range of modern machine tools, blacksmiths hearth, welding and cutting gear. A good deal of this was new to me, but I found I could use most of it with a little practice.
We had a Chief Engineer who was about 63 and almost in his dotage - he did absolutely nothing. I never saw him in either engine room or workshop and he took very little interest in salvage operations. I was senior second engineer and we had a junior second who was very limited in his workshop experience. A third and fourth were willing, but again could not cut a screw thread on a lathe. We carried two salvage engineers of whom one was very good when sober; the other was mediocre. These men and the two divers were not under my control but worked for the Salvage Officer.
On the run to Gib I was surprised to find that I couldn't get the desired vacuum on one engine. The other was OK. We couldn't stop to investigate so one of the first jobs in port was to find the trouble. I suspected leakage at the atmospheric valve on the starboard condenser, and when I opened this up found a sack which had contained rivets jammed between valve and seat, so that the valve could not close and be airtight. From its position it was clear that this had been done deliberately in the shipyard and it ought to have been spotted much earlier. Once removed, the engine ran as normal. So - there we were, with a useless Chief and a willing but not very capable set of engineers. None of us had done any welding or burning and we soon had to do both.
Approaching Gib. on the 4th December we were surprised to sail right past and then to be kept hanging about in the vicinity until late on the night of the 7th, so that we finally arrived in the port in the early hours of Tuesday December 8th 1942. I mention this delay and imprecision of orders as it was to be our common lot for much of our thirteen month stay in the Mediterranean.
Once in Gib we hoped for a decent night's sleep in pyjamas for a change but this was not to be. The Italians had developed a troublesome scheme, whereby they set off from Algeciras in a small submarine from which frogmen, as they were called, swam into the harbour and planted magnetic mines on the assembled ships. To combat this we had to run slow astern all night to wash divers away from the ship's sides, whilst motor launches ploughed round the harbour dropping small depth charges at irregular intervals. Not conducive to a good night's sleep as sound travels very well through water.
Nobody seemed to expect us and nobody knew what we were to do or where we were to do it. This at any rate gave me a chance to get the workshop organised and to familiarise myself with the equipment.
Our 2nd Mate, one H. E. Jones, was an unusual character, a Liverpool lad who was an active member of the 'Brethren', and through his religious connections he found contacts in many places. Here in Gib he found a friend who was employed in the Military Hospital. A new hospital of some 250 - 300 beds was being constructed right inside the rock, using old tunnels and much new excavation, a major civil engineering feat. One day Jones invited me to meet his friend and go for a tour of inspection, not only of the existing hospital but also the new place which, whilst not complete, was capable of being put to use should it be needed - a very interesting trip.
One day we were ordered to go to the wreck of the H.M.S. Ark Royal which had been sunk not far from Gib about a month previously. She had gone down in shallow water and the upper works were still accessible especially at low tide. Our job was to remove some gun sights. We were just making progress when we were ordered to return.
On the 23rd December we went out and spent all night running round in circles, or so it seemed. Come daylight, we joined up with an inbound convoy and after a couple of air raids on Boxing Day arrived in Algiers that afternoon. Although there were several obvious wrecks in the harbour we were not given any immediate work, merely shifted up and down the harbour, whilst our Salvage Officer, a Commander Hewett, R.N., was sent down the coast to look at some big job.
That night we lay alongside the S.S. Harmattan which was suffering from the effects of a limpet mine, or bed pan as they were called at the time, (probably because they looked a bit like one). The damage here was not too serious and she was well on the way to recovery.
Next day we moved to the Ocean Vanquisher, which seemed like going home to me as she was a twin sister to the late lamented Ocean Voice. Again she was a victim of a 'bedpan' but here the results were much more serious. She had apparently broken her back and her engine room was flooded to the cylinder tops. This job was being handled by an Army Salvage crew who were working from an old British coaster S.S. Cws Progress, on which I had worked when an apprentice in Manchester.
The following afternoon we got word to proceed to Bougie, some 120 miles eastwards along the coast, so off we set. Of course, we had to get mixed up with a west bound convoy but eventually we found our escort and set off. Arrived in Bougie we saw a dozen wrecks, but our job proved to be the S.S. Cameronia, an Anchor Line passenger boat which had been taken over for trooping service. She had collected an aerial torpedo in No. 7 hold and had several compartments flooded. We promptly put pumps on board whilst our divers set about making temporary repairs to stop leakage. It's a poor wreck that doesn't do some good and, as she had lost her refrigeration plant, we were able to swop some butter, of which we had an excess, for meat and fowls of which we were very short.
Our efforts were successful and next day, as she could run her engines, we all set off back to Algiers. At this point the weather turned foul and we were reduced to a very uncomfortable 4 knts. This meant that we had Hogmanay at sea, a disaster for our ship full of Scots, but we were back in Algiers by New Year's Day.(1943).
A few days later I took the opportunity to walk round the town and up the hill beyond, with Jones and Campbell, our 2nd wireless operator. Dinner in a good restaurant and a visit to the pictures seemed almost like a return to civilisation.
The weather continued very rough, and next day the Cameronia started to break her mooring lines. We were tied up alongside her, and, before we could do much about it, she swung round and carried us right into an old hulk which was located about 50 yards away. For about four hours we acted as fender between Cameronia and the hulk (the old tanker Winnebago). We didn't suffer any damage but a lifeboat and our general service launch, which had been tied up alongside us, were crushed to pieces between the two ships. The life boat didn't matter, we could find lots more, but the G.S. launch was a sad loss as it was a splendid work boat for moving salvage gear where wanted.
The subject of our next efforts was the renowned H.M.S. Ajax, a cruiser famed for its part in the battle of the River Plate. Here she had suffered a bomb alongside her funnel which had penetrated several decks into one of her stokeholds, the explosion of which had blown a large hold in the ship's side, with the plates opened outwards like the petals of a flower. Our job was for the divers to cut off the projecting plates, using explosive charges, so that she could proceed out of the danger zone. This took us all day, during which we had four air raids. The barrage from the port and shipping was substantial but that from the Ajax itself was terrific. Being alongside was almost more frightening than being bombed. By that night it was considered possible to leave Bougie, and we would take her in tow to Algiers, where I was able to get the boilers blown down for their long overdue cleaning. .
Back in service we went alongside the Ocean Vanquisher where, by now, it was evident she would not move out again. Some of her crew were living ashore and, talking to the 3rd engineer, I learned that a particular American spanner which I coveted was kept on the boiler tops and therefore just above the water line. Putting on my sea boots I made my way into the fidley where it was pitch black. The rays of my torch then disclosed the body of the late 2nd Engineer floating above the boilers. I retreated and reported the matter. In due course his body was recovered and given a decent burial.
Moving next to the Ville de Strasborg which had been both bombed and torpedoed our divers started to assess what could be done but before we could really get to work we were chased out of the harbour to the assistance of an American ship the Walt Whitman which had been hit by an aerial torpedo a few hours earlier.
After helping her into the port we returned to the Ville de Strasborg where work continued. Fresh raids developed and although the barrage put up was formidable a certain amount of damage was done. During one raid the Ville de Strasborg was hit in the forecastle whilst we were still tied up alongside. She was badly damaged and on fire forward. All the glass on our bridge was shattered, much of our superstructure was strained, furniture and fixtures in our rooms were damaged, and I, who was walking down the alleyway at the time, was hurled about 5 yards back into my room but without serious injury. In spite of this we moved forward to get our firefighting equipment to bear, and eventually put out the fire although this took about 12 hours. As the Ville de Strasborg was now more seriously damaged we set about collecting as much of our useful gear as we could.
To our surprise we were left in Bougie where for once we had a quiet time, and I was able to explore the hills overlooking the town, from which one got splendid views of an interesting coast. The Senior wireless operator, one Roy Ashbrook, also hailed from Manchester and, as we both liked walking, we covered as much of the adjacent country as we could, when work permitted, mostly at weekends.
We continued to work on sundry small jobs in the harbour and it wasn't until the 20th March that we were ordered back to Algiers. Here our first job was to the S.S. Liberian where we flooded her forward hold to gain access to her propeller which had suffered damage.
On Monday evening, 22nd March, rumour had it that the S.S.Windsor Castle had been damaged some hundred miles west of Algiers. Expecting to be sent there we spent the night on 'Stand By' but it wasn't until 7.00 am next day that the order came through. Making the best speed we could, the wreck came in sight at 5.30 pm when, to our horror, she put her nose in the air and slid gracefully out of sight. If only we had been there some hours earlier we felt our pumps might have kept her afloat, at least long enough to have got her on the beach.
Having a boiler needing some repairs, I got permission to blow it down, only to have this countermanded an hour later as we had to go out again; before we did, however, that order was reversed, and we had to stand by all day until at 4.00 pm we were sent out again, this time westwards. Poor instructions and bad visibility kept us hanging about all night without finding anything. On our return next day we found the ship had sunk but they had omitted to tell us. During our absence a fairly hefty raid developed and we were able to admire the firework display from our vantage point some 20 miles away. Back in port we found only one ship had been hit and she was already disabled, and next to the dry dock, which was probably the target. We were sent to work on this wreck, a position which caused us some concern but before anything could develop we were ordered out again. This time we thought we were going to Malta but, in fact, turned the other way and headed for Oran, once more without any escort.
Overnight in that harbour, then another 40 miles west to the S.S. City of Perth which had been beached after being torpedoed in No. 2 hold. The crew had evidently left in a hurry, many personal belongings remaining in the accommodation, much to the delight of our, by now, piratical crew. The ship was beyond hope of salvation, being waterlogged throughout so we concentrated on saving anything worthwhile such as guns, wireless and navigational equipment.

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