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X-CRAFT DIVER — Part 1

-- A chance of action! --

We returned from leave to HMS Titania, conscious that our training programme was over, and hoping for news about operations. We were all longing to get our first active engagement done, and so prove we were capable of carrying out missions on chariots. But there was no news: just more training, albeit at a reduced tempo, to keep ourselves in trim, ready for an operation whenever it should be announced. Rumour and speculation began to flow around the messdeck, and the ratings in our chariot pairs kept asking us for the latest buzz about action. Alas, we could give them nothing; we were all disappointed. Weeks went by…

One afternoon, however, a ship rounded the bluff and entered Loch Corrie, anchoring astern of Tites. She flew the White Ensign, and was thus entitled to drop her hook in our secluded zone, but she didn't look like a warship. Questions flew around Tites, and we discovered that this was HMS Alecto, a vessel used by some very rich man in peace-time. She had been taken over, probably commandeered, to serve the Navy in wartime for the transport of personnel up and down the coasts of Scotland. But what her purpose was in entering our hideaway, we could not figure out.

Next morning, however, Commander Fell called all the officers on Tites to a meeting in the wardroom. This was an unusual move and we therefore sensed he had some news to give us. My heart began beating fast in anticipation. Perhaps this was going to be it: we were going to be given the chance to prove ourselves. When we entered, senior officers were already present and had occupied the armchairs, as custom demanded. We juniors were meant to remain standing. Jock Shaw and Hobby Hobson shut the doors and stood guard.

Fell stood up, smiling, looking eager. 'Gentlemen, I have news for you.'

This must be it, I thought at once - and wondered who had been selected, hoping it was me as well as others. Above all I didn't want to be left out - yet at the same time the adrenalin of fear pumped through my veins.

'I've asked you in, because what I have to say concerns us all.'

All of us? Even the officers in Tites's complement? So was it an operation, or not?

'But in particular the charioteer officers.'

So it must be an operation! But how could it be so big, and take in over a dozen charioteers?

He scanned us swiftly with his eyes. 'I shall be asking you later to make a choice, one which some of you may find difficult. You'll understand why when I've explained what it's about.'

This didn't sound at all clear. We waited in silence.

'But before I begin, I have to insist that what I say is not merely confidential, but top secret. And when I say top secret, I really mean so secret that nothing in the field of active operations by the Navy in this war so far matches it in degree of secrecy.' Fell looked uncharacteristically earnest, almost frightened by the burden of what he was carrying. 'So I must ask you beforehand, everyone of you, to undertake, as officers and gentlemen, never to divulge anything of the details I'm about to give you - until the operation is over.'

So there was an operation intended! My heart gave a bound, and began thumping faster.

Captain Fell's eyes searched us one by one, anxiously. 'Is that fully and clearly understood?'

'Aye, aye, sir,' came from several throats; the naval form of assent showed that we appreciated the solemnity in his manner. He had given us an order to obey.

'Now you all know,' Fell began, 'that we belong to the Twelfth Submarine Flotilla, under the command of Captain Banks.'

We nodded, though this sort of information didn't really touch us charioteers; I had more or less forgotten about our belonging to Willy Banks at Rothesay, on the Isle of Bute. I had never been there, and doubted whether any other charioteer had either.

'So chariots come under him, as do Welmans... But there's another type of craft that's been developed, also in secret. The midget submarine.'

A tremor of interest ran through us juniors.

'They're called X-craft. X for secrecy. An X-craft carries a three man crew, two officers and an ERA Petty Officer. They attack as chariots do, by penetrating enemy harbours and placing explosives under the target, then making their way out again before the charge goes up.'

'A sort of warhead, then, Sir?'

'I can't tell you that at present,' Fell replied. 'But what I can say is that an operation has been planned for six of these midget submarines, to take place in less than three months.'

'That's good-O for them, sir,' Hobby put in, 'but how does that touch the charioteers?'

Fell smiled. 'The operation planned requires these craft to be able to get through nets. They can't do so without a diver. Without men who know their way about nets. So we are asking for volunteers to go with the midget subs, to serve as divers, and cut them through the nets.'

That would be six divers, I thought quickly - but there were over a dozen of us in the room. I felt Geordie Nelson's right hand steal into mine and press it firmly. He must mean he was already committed: I returned his pressure and so - in effect - was I. He clearly expected me to say yes.

'I can see signs that some of you are wanting to speak up right away,' Fell added. 'But before you do so, there's something you have to consider. The six who go as divers will be away from chariots for the whole period of the operation, say about three months. This means that the chariot crews, six of them, will be split; you'll lose your Number Twos. That's the difficult part. For there's no guarantee that those who return from the operation -' he paused significantly '- will be re-united with the other man in the pair... In fact it's very unlikely.'
I realised that I hadn't even thought of this aspect, so keen was I to get into action. It would mean giving up the partnership with Pearcy. But in the next moment I had abandoned him; I wasn't going to let that kind of loyalty prevent me from tasting the operation offered. I had done so much training; now I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it - or die in the attempt. Either would do.

-- Who goes? --

'I don't want volunteers now, this very moment,' Fell went on. 'I want you to think about losing your crewman. But I also want you - all of those who wish to, that is - to have a try on a midget submarine, getting the feel of these craft. That means going down to HMS Varbel at Port Bannatyne on Bute, and having a trial run at being a diver on an X-craft.'

'Getting in and out, sir? Like we did recently on the T-boat here?'

'Yes … and no. Same basic principle, but on a very much smaller scale.'

'When do we leave, sir?'

Fell smiled. 'Good man! This evening, on Alecto.' He scanned us with his bright, warm eyes. 'Now I want you all to understand that I need volunteers. But we have to have those divers, to help the midget sub through the obstacles. The kind you know already — cutting through A/S nets, and getting round or under A/T netting.'

'How big are the midgets, sir?'

'About fifty feet long, and eight in diameter.'

The sound of PHEW from several sources.

'Have to make a big hole in the A/S nets, sir, to get her through.'

Fell smiled. 'It's been done … Now I shall leave a sheet of paper headed X-craft Divers on the desk of my cabin from noon to one, and those who want to volunteer can sign. We want six of you, but more can make their way down to Varbel to try out being in one of these X-craft. They're small inside — you can't stand up in them!'

Another gasp of surprise from many quarters. 'What about the escape chamber, sir?'

He grinned. 'It's a cosy little compartment — you sit on the heads, in fact!'

Sudden laughter released some of our tension.

'Right, gentlemen! That's all — except for one thing. You'll have to tell your Number Two's if you decide to volunteer. Tell them nothing about the midgets — just that you have been called away on another operation, and that the pairs will be reshuffled accordingly.'

The charioteers crowded into one corner of the wardroom as Fell and the other officers left.

'Ah'm ganning!' Geordie declared at once.
'Decided already?' Strugnell commented, with a superior air.

Ede tossed his head. 'Doesn't sound like anything worth doing!'

'It's an op, isn't it?' Spike countered. 'That's what I want — one way or another!'

'I don't trust them,' Strugnell stated. 'They'll slip through and leave you on the net.'

'I like chariots!' Pod stated roundly. 'I know what I'm doing, and in charge. And I don't want to give up my Number Two. We form a team, already.'

I had expected there to be more enthusiasm for an operation, and began to wonder whether I was wrong to think of volunteering. I would once again lose the companionship of three of the original training group — and knew I would miss their friendship.

In the event, six of us signed up: Geordie Nelson, Dickie Kendall, Bob Aitken, Chick Thomson, Spike O'Sullivan and me. We packed our bags that afternoon and transferred to Alecto after tea. We were shown to our quarters, a kind of compact dormitory inserted by the Navy to suit the transport of personnel: double bunks, somewhere below the main deck, dark and poorly ventilated. But that contrasted totally with the appearance of the ship at main deck level. For Alecto, we learned from the engineer officer, had been built as a pleasure steamer for a rich industrialist at the turn of the century, and the fittings in the wardroom were of finer quality than anything I had seen so far in the Navy. It was meant for luxury cruising, and that was in a sense what appeared to lie ahead for us: a passage of 15 to 18 hours, depending on the weather. We were to sail down Loch Linnhe, turn south making past Jura, and then all the way round the Mull of Kindred, till we could head north again up the Firth of Clyde and so reach Bute.

-- Seaway --

So we waved goodbye to the others at four bells that evening — six o'clock, marking the start of the Second Dog — and stood at the guard-rail chatting and watching the Scottish coast-line drift past in the July sunshine, as Alecto rumbled her way down Loch Linnhe, making a seemly ten knots. A freshening wind from the south-west whipped the smoke off her one funnel and trailed it back towards Loch Corrie, as if in a final reluctant adieu. As the distance increased, I wondered whether I had made the right choice … But to have been given the chance of action, and then turned it down … Unthinkable!

Alecto was already pitching a little as she made her way that evening down the loch. We six charioteers went in to dinner a little before seven thirty. I saw with surprise that the octagonal table, laid out with a crisply starched white table cloth and a full set of gleaming cutlery, was fitted with wooden edging all round, to prevent the plates sliding off in a storm and depositing their contents on your lap — or the carpeted deck below.

The two-ringer grey-haired RNR skipper was already there with a whisky in hand, talking with the Scots engineer, a one-ringer long-service RN officer promoted from the ranks and drawn back into service from retirement. The skipper broke off to offer us striplings a drink from the bar.

'After this one, it'll be up to you to pay. No messing rights for trips on Alecto.'
It was clearly up to us to behave, and play the part of the very junior. There was clearly to be no deference paid to us, in spite of our being involved in hazardous service.

Not since my unhappy fortnight at the Royal Naval College at Greenwich had I seen so well appointed a table. The steward ladled in a generous helping of soup into the Victorian plates, and we fell to. I made some haste, for I saw that the brown liquid slid this way and that as Alecto now pitched and rolled significantly. The fear of allowing a slurry to come on that table-cloth aroused all my boyhood fears of misbehaviour at the family table. Both the skipper and the engineer were old enough to be my uncles …

I was glad to get out into the fresh air after the meal, and let the wind streak through my hair on the weather side of the vessel. The slow dusk of the north was beginning to gather, and coating the waves with grey, flecked with spume where the crest had been scattered. The vessel was now pitching and rolling with the kind of corkscrew motion that I remembered all too well from the passage to and from Iceland on the Manchester. But this little ship was not even a quarter of the size of the cruiser, and seemed to be just the right shape to respond to each feature of the swell.

I tried to fight the tell-tale signs of incipient sea-sickness, but within half an hour knew I must turn in, and go horizontal. That had always eased my sufferings on the cruiser. I clawed my way down the companionway, tore off my outer clothing, and stretched out on my bunk, looking forward to the sense of relief. But the motion of this ship was sharper and more sudden than I had known on the Manchester, and I continued to feel queasy, and slept only in uneasy snatches, well aware that the motion of Alecto grew more pronounced as the night passed. At six bells of the morning watch I rose, and struggled into my clothes, leaning against the stanchions that supported the bunk so as to prevent my being thrown about.

Up on deck the fresh air helped, but the ship was being tossed about like a plaything in waves that belonged out in the Atlantic, to my way of thinking. I could see a coastline to port, and looked around to pick out any feature I recognised. Far off, half hidden in low scurrying cloud, I picked out the characteristic steep cone of Ailsa Craig. That would mean another four hours of sailing up the Firth of Clyde. It would be mid morning before we got to Varbel.

Breakfast? The thought made me feel instantly worse. But I decided I must try, and so made my way into the covered part of the upper deck, and along the pitching, rolling corridor until I entered the wardroom. The Engineer Officer was tucking in to a plate of bacon and eggs.

'Come on in, sub, and get something under your belt!' He grinned at me.
I smiled weakly, and sat down, as far from his plate as possible. The steward brought me some porridge, and I spooned some of it down — and then knew I couldn't hold it. I stood up, burst along the corridor, and reached the lee side of the open deck just in time.

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