大象传媒

Rapid I: a Dunkirk 鈥榣ittle ship鈥� from Isleworth-on-Thames

Susan Howls is the granddaughter of Percy George Broom, the owner of Rapid I and author of the original memoir 鈥淭he Story of Rapid I鈥�. Susan Howls donated a copy of her grandfather鈥檚 memoir to Hounslow Library in 2005. Percy Broom, his son Gordon and Percy鈥檚 friend Vic Grantham from the Converted Cruiser Club took Rapid I from Isleworth to Sheerness when Rapid I was commandeered for the Dunkirk evacuation. At Sheerness, Rapid I was handed over to Naval Officers to be taken on to Dover and Dunkirk. Later, Percy Broom was able to contact servicemen who had crewed Rapid I at Dunkirk and he recorded their stories of 鈥極peration Dynamo鈥�. What follows is taken from Percy George Broom鈥檚 memoir 鈥淭he story of Rapid I鈥� and is reproduced here with the permission of Susan Howls.

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When I bought Rapid I she was in a very bad state, having been neglected for years. She looked like a real scrapheap. She was built at Staines for the Rapid Ship Cleaning Company; 44 feet long, 12 feet in the beam and 3 feet draught with a 50hp paraffin engine. I bought her and stripped her ready for conversion into what I thought would be a very comfortable cabin cruiser. I joined the Converted Cabin Cruiser Club, which had been recently founded and made friends at once. In a snowstorm, during Easter week in 1937, Vic Grantham and I steamed her from Hammersmith to Isleworth. All my friends thought that I was mad to undertake such a job. Her last owner, Mr. Taylor was amazed to find her gone from her mooring and would not believe me when I told him she came up under her own power.
Rapid was berthed at Mill Creek in Isleworth, a very handy place to do my conversion because of the low tide. I could get down and walk about on the fairly hard bottom to do work underneath, though I only had a few hours of low water each day. Everything was overhauled. Finally came the furnishings with which my wife helped: curtains at all portholes and skylights, pipe cots hung in the fore and after cabins with spring mattresses on the lower berths, lino laid throughout. Painting the sides of a large steel boat seemed endless; I wore out many brushes on the job, for the steel was rougher and harder on the brushes than wood.
The conversion took me several years and it was completed the very year the Second World War broke out. In spite of the war rumours my wife and I decided to have our first holiday afloat that summer and arranged a fortnight鈥檚 cruise around the Thames Estuary. On August 20th we went ashore to get fuel at Rochester and were told the Government had commandeered all supplies. We decided it was best to leave Rapid at Rochester and to return home. Two weeks later I was able to bring Rapid back from Rochester to Isleworth. As we tied up we learned that war had been declared and all movement of small craft was now prohibited.
Rapid lay in her berth at Mill Creek for what seemed an eternity. All my old friends seemed to be joining the Forces. Then, on May 28th, 1940 there was a ring at the front door and my daughter Joan went to answer it. She returned, telling me I was wanted by 鈥榓 fireman鈥�. The 鈥檉ireman鈥� turned out to be a Naval Officer in full uniform and wearing a revolver. He asked me if I was the owner of Rapid and told me that the vessel had been commandeered. He asked me how soon I could get her under way for Gravesend? I explained that Rapid was high and dry at Isleworth Draw Dock and I was painting her.
鈥淣ever mind about the paint鈥� he said, 鈥渨e鈥檒l soon knock that off鈥�. He then gave me instructions to remove everything moveable; standing room only would be required for the evacuation of our troops from France. I was to sail as soon as the tide was suitable and to report at Gravesend.
My old friend Vic Grantham lived near me so I ran round to see him. He offered to come with me next morning. I still felt I wanted someone else so I commandeered my own son Gordon. I told him he could not go to work the next morning but must come with me 鈥� he needed no persuasion. We were up at 5am. We took everything out of Rapid, even the cooking utensils; but we left the fancy curtains at the portholes. I went with Vic to get fuel and lubricating oil and having no petrol coupons it was a job to talk the garage proprietor round to letting me have it. At high water, at 10.30am, we pushed out into mid-stream and anchored long enough to repaint the boat鈥檚 over-painted name and registered number 鈥淩apid I, 24D鈥�. Sign writing from a dinghy in fast flowing water was not easy, but at least it could be seen.
We said goodbye to the few who had come to see us off, started the engine and made for Gravesend.
At Gravesend pier we found dozens of small craft on the same errand. We filled our fuel and water tanks and took on rations for three days. They asked if we wanted bacon and eggs, we told them we had no utensils and couldn鈥檛 take anything that needed cooking. We came away with tinned food, bread and fruit. When Vic heard we鈥檇 refused bacon and eggs he sent us back, saying he would find a frying pan somewhere. By that time we felt we could do justice to some bacon and eggs and we started cooking at once.
It was late in the afternoon when we cast-off for Southend. We had a splendid run and I felt very proud of Rapid. We just missed a convoy of small vessels that had left for Dover. The next convoy would sail next morning, but the wind was getting fresh and we had a good chance of getting smashed up as we all made fast to one another. An officer 鈥榩honed through to Sheerness asking for instructions and was told to send us over. He asked if anyone knew the way. No one answered, so Vic said that he did. We were given instructions to lead the way and all would follow us. Vic looked at the barnacles on Southend Pier and said it would be high water so we could go straight over the Nore Sands. So we cast off and set a slow speed for all to keep up with us. We were met by a Naval motorboat and escorted into the inner harbour. We were told to get whatever sleep we could, as we would be off in the morning. Hard wooden bunks, no mattresses and tinned fruit with Ideal milk for supper 鈥� the night was a nightmare. In the morning the harbour was packed with small vessels.
Just as it was getting light officers came aboard. The first one asked to check my magneto. He examined it, started up and found all OK. I was paid the compliment of being told that this was the first boat they鈥檇 found that didn鈥檛 need something, most of them wanted a complete overhaul!
After an early breakfast we were told that we wouldn鈥檛 be needed to take Rapid round to Dover as Naval Officers and men had come to take the boats themselves. We were given railway permits back to Isleworth and we retrieved our shaving tackle. In the saloon, on my new white paint, I hurriedly scribbled, 鈥淕ood luck to you all. A safe and speedy return home鈥︹��
I swallowed a lump in my throat as I left and Vic told me that he did too. We returned home longing for a hot bath and a good sleep.
After the evacuation I wanted news of Rapid. I expected that the Admiralty would advise me where I could collect her, if she was still afloat. They began to tow batches of disabled small craft up the river to Teddington. I was at the riverside on Sunday, June 9th when I noticed a tug with craft in tow at the lower end of Isleworth Reach. I ran to the little ferry and was taken to the Surrey bank in time to get a snapshot. As they passed a thunderstorm broke and the thunder sounded like a salute of guns for the little fleet. I was soaked by the rain as I stood there, but I didn鈥檛 mind for, to my delight, Rapid was amongst the batch. That afternoon I drove over to Teddington with my wife and after a lot of argument I got aboard Rapid. I was shocked to see bloodstains all over the place. She had evidently been in the thick of it for all her stanchions (handrails and posts) were torn out of her decks. I counted 22 bullet holes. There was a large shell hole in the steel hull plates of Rapid鈥檚 galley. There was wet and bloodstained clothing everywhere in the saloon, heaps of sodden cotton wool; and the fancy curtains were in pieces from having been used as bandages. I wished that the old boat could talk and tell me what she had been through.
I made enquiries about having her handed back to me and was told she was to be refitted for coastal patrol work. In the end the repairs necessary were considered too great and she was returned to me in the autumn, after compensation for the cost of repairing her had been assessed and agreed.

Whilst I was inspecting Rapid I found a label with a Naval Rating鈥檚 home and barracks address on it. I pocketed it and wrote to him hoping to learn something about Rapid鈥檚 scars, of which I was very proud. It was 1944 before I had a reply from C.H. Tazziman.
鈥� Dear Sir, I was handed a copy of your letter at work, which should have reached me four years ago. You must have thought me an ignorant person not to answer you鈥n the 30th May 1940 we were roused at Chatham barracks at an unearthly hour, told to collect a tin hat and lifebelt and proceed to Sheerness鈥 was drafted to Rapid, to the engine room in a crew of four, all eager to be off. Three hours out they chased us all the way to France, fighters, dive-bombers, E-boats, but we made Dunkirk in one piece. The chip out of the steering wheel was done by a bullet an inch from my head. Inshore we lowered a boat and pulled for the beach, dead French and Belgian soldiers were everywhere. I had to dive under a corpse to get cover from a dive-bomber鈥e started to get men from the beach to Rapid and then out to the big ships and we did fairly well鈥everal men were killed on board and I am afraid we had no time to swab the decks for you. We saved a good number off the gunboat 鈥淢osquito鈥� that was dive-bombed on our starboard, 90% of them were wounded. We were sent back for more and got more than we bargained for, as the condition of Rapid will show. I had a fight with a Belgian soldier who ran amok, this was my first blood and it seemed to make a man out of me. I did the job well without my knees knocking quite so much. At last we landed at Margate and had to stand by. We all received an egg and ten fags on our return to Barracks. A few days later I was drafted to H.M.S. Southampton and had a near do when she went down and eight months in hospital. I have been discharged through wounds received on H.M.S. Southampton. Yours faithfully.鈥�
I sent Mr. Tazziman 100 cigarettes and hoped I would meet him one day.
At Christmas 1945 my wife gave me a book entitled 鈥淒unkirk鈥�. I found the names of all the small craft that took part and read that Lieutenant Clarke won his D.S.C. aboard Rapid. I wrote to the Admiralty asking if they could give me particulars and to Lt. Clarke, 鈥淐are of the Admiralty, please forward鈥�.
In due course I received a letter from Lt. Clarke. He said he was pleased to hear Rapid was still afloat and he would like to bring his wife to see the boat. I invited them to come the following Sunday afternoon. After he had shown his wife and daughter all over Rapid he told me some of his experiences. I invited him to a meeting of the Converted Cruiser Club at Isleworth鈥檚 ancient riverside inn, the London Apprentice. There was a record attendance for that meeting. The landlord was worried about the strength of the floor of the upstairs room in his scheduled ancient monument.
Lieutenant Clarke said he picked out Rapid at Sheerness because she looked robust and able to stand some rough weather. His officer pals all picked out beautiful cruisers with streamlined hulls and laughed at him because he picked this heavy looking steel vessel. His turn to laugh came later when he took most of his pal鈥檚 cruisers in tow because they had broken down or had been damaged by enemy action. He also transferred many men from small vessels, which were in danger of overturning because they were overloaded.
His chief worry was that Rapid might turn turtle as he had so many on board each trip. He explained that a lot of French and Belgian soldiers whose nerves were shattered by bombing and who could not speak English kept struggling to get up on deck when they heard gunfire. Lieutenant Clarke knew that if many more men came up from below Rapid would become top heavy and liable to turn over. He had to threaten these men with his revolver, this being the only language they understood.
Lieutenant Clarke was continually picking up men and taking them right out to mid-channel and putting them aboard naval vessels, liners and any large boats. Each time Rapid approached the beaches troops swarmed aboard so many at a time that the stanchions tore out from the decks. When he had as many as he could take he had to threaten others with his revolver in order to get underway. He said he would never forget their faces as he sailed away shouting promises to come back for them. He described how H.M.S. Mosquito was bombed and he steamed up alongside her and picked up a lot of her crew and officers. As 鈥淢osquito鈥� sank he pushed Rapid鈥檚 stern against her rigging, which remained above water and picked up a lot of men, some badly injured. It was for this work that he won his D.S.C.
In the end, Rapid was rammed by another vessel and her rudder was twisted. She was put out of action and her last load of human cargo was towed into Dover. Lieutenant Clarke鈥檚 one regret was not being able to make Rapid鈥檚 last trip into Dover under her own steam. He was proud of her and thankful that he had chosen her from all the vessels at Sheerness Docks.

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After being repaired Rapid I was moored at the back of the London Apprentice in Isleworth. In 1942 she was the focus of attention during 鈥淲arships Savings Week鈥� and raised 拢2,742. In the last 18 months of the war Rapid was used as a training ship by the Sea Cadets and as one of the few small boats allowed to move around the river she became a familiar sight on the Thames around Richmond. Percy Broom sold her in 1947 but her valiant service at Dunkirk will ensure that she is not forgotten.

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