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Our draft was split in two, one group was allocated space on H.M.S. 'Lauderdale', whilst the other to her sister ship H.M.S. 'Waddon', both 'Hunt Class' Destroyers. My group were to sail on the 'Lauderdale', whose Skipper was the son of the then first Lord of the Admiralty, Sir Dudley Pound. Once on board, we were made very welcome and split into smaller groups to be allocated to various messes, I to a stoker’s mess. We were shown where to stow our kit but it was explained that sleeping space was a matter of 'pot luck' and one had to find a spot to lay down a blanket and sleep as best one could. The reason, it was explained, was that once at sea we would be at 'action stations' from an hour before sunset until an hour after sunrise. During action stations all lower deck bulkhead doors had to be closed and sealed, so whatever deck you were likely to be on at such times would be sealed off from the rest of the ship. As the stokers mess was way down below it would be inadvisable to be there at such times.
Each mess was 'self catering'. (A mess was a table that seated eight men; we were to make up these messes to ten). One member would be allocated the task of 'duty cook' for the day and it would be up to him to prepare the meals for his mess, which he would take to the galley staff to be cooked. There were two cooked meals a day, breakfast and a mid-day meal. As choices for breakfast varied so greatly, it was the custom for each individual to take his own selection down to the galley to be cooked. It was also the task of the 'duty cook' to draw the rations for his mess each day. Being assigned to a mess entitled one to the customary tot of rum issued to all crew members, but after the first taste, it was decided by most of us to pass it on to the rest of the mess members who were more accustomed to this 'bevy' and where it would be more appreciated. The crew were most insistent that we were 'passengers' and should be treated as such, so would not allow any of us to take a turn at 'duty cook'. (Maybe they were taking no chances!) It was certainly an eye opener to see how the crew of a small ship could live together under such cramped conditions, a perfect example of 'team spirit’; it had to be, of course.
We sailed on a Friday much to the disapproval of the crew. Matelots are very superstitious creatures and they, knowing that we were bound for Malta, thought it very unwise! We were to protect a convoy of about a dozen merchant ships in transit from Gibraltar, some bound for Alexandria and a couple or so for Malta. We understood that it was the largest convoy to attempt to make the trip from west to east for a year or so. There were two other destroyers and all four stationed themselves around the convoy as we headed east, each destroyer zigzagging back and forth, moving at a 'rate of knots'. At each turn the ship would heel right over, first to Port and then to Starboard. We soon found our sea legs; this was not the first time for us!
Each day at an hour before sunset, 'action stations' would be sounded and each destroyer would go charging away from the merchantmen leaving a trail of thick white smoke until the whole convoy was surrounded in what looked like a thick fog. As the sun went down so we started looking around for somewhere to sleep. To kip down on the open deck was favourite as if anything, such as a torpedo should hit the ship, or the ship hit a mine during the night, one had a reasonable chance to take avoiding action and dive into the sea! Nobody would admit to this though it must have been in the minds of everyone at such times. Self-preservation is the natural instinct of us all. There was a snag to sleeping directly on the deck, as it must be remembered that the deck was of steel plating and following some twelve hours of hot sunshine scorching the deck, it became very hot! So the wise searched for pieces of wood from packing cases and the like which would make ideal insulation. During the night however, it would become very cold, I found an ideal spot immediately aft of the funnel. The deck kept warm from the boilers below, and, the ship's movement was not so noticeable, being in the centre, One learns very quickly at sea.
Friday night passed without incident and in the morning there were one or two who had not slept too well and decided to search for better sites for the following night. We found that the food on board was excellent, real 'white' bread, a thing of the past back in the U.K. and plenty of butter, jam etc., (whilst stocks last, we were told). Midway through the morning a break was 'piped' which took us to the canteen for 'Goffers', a really thirst quenching fruit drink. Every order or action on the ship was 'piped' when the boson’s pipe would draw the attention of all with its two-tone whistle. After lunch, we passengers were 'piped' to attend a lecture on deck from the Gunnery Officer who gave us the guidelines of what to do and what not to do whilst on board ship. He explained that we would not be detailed for any specific duties during the trip but would possibly be called upon to assist, where practicable in the event of the ship going into action. He emphasised that it was vital that we did not hinder anyone in carrying out his duties. He asked what were the strange guns that he had seen us carrying when we came on board? It was explained that these strange guns were in fact 'sten guns', which he admitted to not having seen before. After making an examination of one he suggested that in the event of an attack from the air, we should all lie on deck and put up a barrage at any aircraft that might attempt to attack the ship. He then went on to warn that such an attack was expected around midnight! He then went on to explain that secret information had been received giving information that the convoy would be attacked at midnight when we were due to be close in to Cape Bon. Tunisia was still in enemy hands.
He began to explain that very secret equipment had been installed on the ship that should beat off any enemy attack. It was 'Radar' he explained. Seeing a look of recognition on our faces, he enquired what the 'flash' badges on our sleeves represented? When we explained that we were a radar crew he quickly changed the subject! Later in the afternoon we learned that the ship had three radar sets, none of which was serviceable. Not one of the signals personnel had ever received any instruction on servicing this equipment, could we help? Our radar mech's were in their element and had all the sets serviceable in no time. From then on we could do no wrong! The prestige of the RAF soared in the eyes of the R.N. and no doubt created the bond that was to become evident between the ship and our unit for the months that we would stay on Malta. For whenever the ship docked on the island, a phone call would be received by the unit inviting anyone not on duty to visit the ship where there would be a good meal awaiting and a packet of 'Tickler' (rolling tobacco) for good measure. The ship's crew were well aware that food was almost non-existent where we were going and it would be most unwise for us to refuse such an invitation.
The Gunnery Officer's forecast of the raid was not guesswork as we had thought. It was exactly as he had predicted. The 'sten gun' barrage was of course, not put into action, that was just tongue in cheek! As the sun went down on the Saturday so 'action stations' was sounded as usual. Just before midnight the Klaxons and alarm bells heralded the anticipated raid. All bulkheads had been closed of course as the crew took up their battle stations. A Petty Officer detailed our bods to various jobs, mostly to help with the movement of shells from the magazines to the 4.5-inch guns located above us on deck. Within minutes it seemed that all hell broke loose, each time the guns were fired the ship shook violently as if it were trying to leap from the sea. The shells were coming up from the magazine below on a hoist and then had to be transferred by hand to a shoot and pushed up to the guns on the deck above. Immediately following the first salvo there came a great deal of shouting from above. It transpired that the first shells fired were not the anti-flash types usually used at night and in consequence, the officers on the bridge were almost blinded by the flashes! This was quickly rectified.
There was so much noise going on that one had no idea of what was going on outside, word soon reached us that we were under air attack and bombs were falling. It was impossible to differentiate between the noise of the guns firing, a bomb exploding and the scream of aircraft diving down on us! The situation gave one the feeling that we were on a ship of the 'Queen Mary' dimensions sitting in a duck pond! How could anyone miss us? Then came some re-assurance from one helpful Matelot who enlightened us to the facts that if we are to receive a direct hit, it is hoped that it will be from an armour piercing bomb as it should go right through the ship and out of the bottom before exploding! Otherwise any other type of bomb, if it were to hit either the stern or bow sections would locate the magazines and that would be the finish! Should the area amidships receive a bomb, anywhere between the bow and stern, it would find the boiler room! Just as bad! He was thanked for his enlightening observations then he turned and made a profound statement that would dispel any fears and doubts, he simply said, "If any man says that he is not scared, then he is a bloody liar! We are all bloody scared at a time like this! It is nothing to be ashamed of." Strangely, hearing that statement made us feel that we were much the same as each other. Should one of us feel that he was a coward then he was no different to the next man who must also feel much the same, we were 'all in the same boat' as the saying goes. That remark by the Matelot was I think, the most encouraging morale booster I ever heard.
How long the raid lasted is difficult to remember, at the time it seemed long enough. After a period of time we were relieved from our task and instructed to take a breather, it was during this 'rest period' that the above narrative took place. Whilst actively participating in the action there was no time to even think of what could or could not happen. Take a break, we had been told but we could go no where but sit on the deck close by and listen to all that was going on above and around us. Just above where we were resting was positioned a multi barrelled Pom-Pom gun, which made terrible moaning sounds as it swung round from one position to another, only to be drowned out by the racket it made when fired. Many months later I was able to read an account of that raid from the log book of a mobile GCI Radar unit, (8020 AMES) which was sited in North Africa at the time and was controlling night fighters intercepting this raid. Eventually things quietened down and we were told that three bombs fell within 50 yards of the ship, near misses but too close for comfort. When dawn broke a count was made of the convoy and all appeared to be present, we sailed on zigzagging our way eastwards. Every time something unusual was seen floating in the sea the ship would alter course and go to investigate. Sometimes it would be a mine broken away from its moorings and this would be sunk by gunfire creating a little competition amongst those with small arms. On one occasion it happened to be a body, which had been in the water for some considerable time, identity tags were recovered by the medics and the body disposed of with the customary formalities. If the ship's 'Asdic' recorded a 'ping' indicating the possibility of a submerged submarine or wreck, no chances were taken and depth charges were fired hurtling through the air over the position located. The first time this happened we were startled by the cry of "Out nets"!! At the same instant the ship heeled right over into a tight turn to circle over the position. From nowhere came Matelots carrying nets on the ends of long poles, which were dipped into the sea where the depth charges had exploded sending huge columns of water into the sky. By the time we were over the spot the water had calmed down to leave masses of stunned fish floating on the surface. Fresh fish for the galley!
Later that day, we passed between the island of Pantalaria and Cape Bon, Tunisia, where the Germans had been desperately trying to evacuate their troops using huge powered Messerschmitt gliders, easy prey to the allied fighters. We were to see the aftermath of this German attempt of a 'Dunkirk' as we passed the scene where these aircraft had fallen into the sea, leaving wreckage and many bodies floating in the water. We were warned to expect another attack on the convoy this coming night, but it was not to be. We had a good nights sleep in our various hide-aways to awake next morning Tuesday, to find that the convoy had split during the night, our two destroyers with two merchantmen heading into Malta and the rest heading off to Alexandria.
We docked at the Custom House in Grand Harbour, disembarked and were transferred to an RAF Air Sea Rescue launch onto which we crowded the deck with ourselves and all our kit. We were told to "Hold tight" as the launch made off at a very high rate of knots, out of Grand Harbour and round into Sliema harbour where we set foot on the island of Malta.

Mediteranean

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