大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by the Dunstable At War Team on behalf of Alec James Allison and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

I was 14 years old and in my third year at Dunstable Grammar School when war broke out. My immediate thought 鈥� 鈥淚 shall never be called up. The war will end before I am seventeen鈥�. How wrong I was!

Progressing through school, I managed the school certificate with five credits, moved up into sixth form and was taught by the headmaster. He, mathematics and I were in different worlds and I left school in November 1940 to accept Articles with a Charted Accountant, at a salary of five shillings per week.

In 1943, my intermediate examination was becoming due. I had decided that of the three forces, the navy was the safest and in a foolhardy moment, volunteered for the Fleet Air Arm. I attended an interview in London confronted with the largest table I had ever seen covered with wooden models of ships and aeroplanes; I was asked to identify them but failed miserably. The officer present then remarked that if I was that keen to join the fleet air arm I would have belonged to a cadet corp. I replied that my time had been taken up for the last two years studying accountancy.

He then suggested that I apply to join the R.A.F and an appointment was made to visit Petit France in London where I sat in a cockpit and told to press a button when a light flashed. I managed and was told that I would be accepted. However, I turned this down and decided to await call up and join the Navy; what I did not know at the time was that my Principal had requested a delay in this to enable me to take my examination, which I did. On the 14th of September 1943 I joined the Navy.

My first 鈥榮hip鈥� was Highgate College where I sat an easy examination gaining a 90% mark, played a few games of rugby and marched up and down Highgate Hill, even visiting the grave of Karl Marx, buried in Highgate cemetery in 1883. The captain at the college also played rugby and at my interview before leaving informed me that I would be registered under the 鈥榊鈥� scheme, which meant that I would spend a short time at sea and then be transferred to an 鈥極fficers Training Establishment鈥�.

The next 鈥榮hip鈥� was Butlins Holiday Camp at Skegness, where I spent two bitterly cold months, October to December 1943, being kitted out in the fore and aft uniform as Supply Assistant, (a Jack Dusty)鈥ay 28d a day, having received my first promotion, being for three months a Supply Assistant Probationer.

At Skegness we spent the days marching slowly, quickly, up the square, down the square and 鈥榬ound鈥� the square. The meal times were complete chaos. Hot trolleys were wheeled in to the dining room where everyone fought and scrambled to get a plate of food. This lasted until 13th December, when I was posted to Chatham in Kent, being a fully fledged Supply Assistant and took my place in the Blanket Store dishing out blankets and at the Clothing Store, dishing out clothes. This lasted until 20th February 1944 when I was posted to H.M.S Goodall.

The frigate was built in Canada, a welded ship, no rivets, not even a golden one. This we picked up in Boston, U.S.A, the home of the tea party and sailed to our base at Gladstone Dock, Liverpool. The Goodall鈥檚 first trip was to act as one of the escorts to merchant ships sailing to and from America, with the duty to safeguard these ships from German U boat torpedo attacks.

My baptism of fire took place on this trip. It was after a few days in the Atlantic, when in the middle of the night there was a terrific boom and a flash of light as a ship, I presumed a tanker, was torpedoed and blown to pieces. We also lost one of the merchant ships on this trip.

These duties continued, escorting merchant ships across the Atlantic until they were out of range of the U boats and picking up the ships coming from America bringing food and stores to England. The Atlantic Ocean was at times extremely rough with waves coming over the bridge and the small frigate rose out of the water and then came down with a tremendous crash. We slept in metal bunks and at night would have to wedge our feet against the chains by which they were lowered or raised, hang on with our hands and hope that the weather would improve by the morning, but it seldom did.

We often took a northerly route through the ice packs, cracking the ice as we went, which was more sedate and spectacular. This accompanied a call to St. Johns, Newfoundland, a pleasant break with its wooden houses and beautiful girls.

My duties during action stations were to wind the depth charges up to the level of the guard rail, where they were primed by the electrician to explode at the required depth, push them overboard and trust that the captain piped sufficient speed to the engine room to get the ship out of the way before the explosion.

Did we sink a submarine, if that is the correct term? We certainly blew up schools of fish which added to our rations, however on one occasion a load of debris came to the surface 鈥︹��.. but no other sign!

Our sister ship, H.M Bullen (if my memory is correct), certainly did, and unloaded a number of German sailors when we returned to Gladstone dock. This was however revenged, as on our next escort duty the Bullen was torpedoed. We lowered our lifeboat, manned by courageous sailors, who picked up a number of survivors and tied the boat to the stern of one of the escort ships. The captain of this ship fearing a torpedo was approaching his vessel, ordered full speed and turned the ship in a sharp circle shooting the lifeboat like a stone from a catapult, and unfortunately the occupants were drowned. This was the Goodall鈥檚 first casualties of the war and we had the sad duty of auctioning the deceased sailor鈥檚 clothes and effects and sending the money to their next of kin.

In between the Atlantic convoys we escorted Americans in a troop ship, which we picked up at Scapa Flow to Iceland and sailed in very rough seas, so bad in fact that one of our crew had to be restrained by being tied up to prevent him throwing himself overboard. In Reykjavik, I met a fellow Jack Dusty and was able to swap a ration of butter for a pair of American silk stockings and we were very impressed with the wooden houses and the beautiful girls. Further trips were to and from Gibraltar.

D-Day arrived and we were in Portsmouth harbour and had the duty of escorting a battleship, I believe the HMS Nelson, however this ship signalled we were not required and HMS Goodall returned to Portsmouth.

My transfer from HMS Goodall finally arrived, however I had to leave the ship in Gladstone Dock and catch a ferry to Ireland to serve for three days on a Banana Boat, name not remembered.

Finally reaching HMS Pembroke i.e. Chatham, the first sailors I met were the survivors from HMS Goodall that had been torpedoed on a Russian convoy, many of my shipmates had perished and others were in hospital in Russia鈥�.good fortune had smiled on me.
I had by this time been promoted to a Leading Supply Assistant and attended the 鈥榊 Scheme Office鈥�, with my officer training in mind, only to be told that they had received no papers on me from HMS Goodall. The torpedo had hit the boat midships and the captain had been blown over the stern, obviously dead according to the Sick Bay Tiffy, who had survived. Whether the captain had ever intended to forward my papers, I shall never know.

The first visit to the bridge occurred when all the bread had gone mouldy after we had been in convoy for a few days. I had told my tanky (assistant) to dispose of the loaves and he apparently threw them over the stern one by one. Called to the bridge, there appeared to be a mile of loaves bobbing in the ocean in a perfect straight line. The Captain told me these would be seen by U boats whose crew would then know that there was a convoy in the vicinity. My thoughts were that the periscopes would see the merchant ships before a loaf of bread鈥� but I did not say so.

The second visit arose as follows. The chef cooked breakfast for each mess. However, in the Stoker鈥檚 Mess where I resided, the greedy morning watch would collect the Mess tray and eat the lot so that when the night watch were relieved, they had no breakfast. I was told in no uncertain terms by the captain that he would not tolerate his sailors not being properly fed.

The third visit again was caused by the stokers. Enough potatoes would be ordered for our three weeks at sea, however these mysteriously disappeared after one week. The stokers on night duty had raided the potato cages and spent the night watch eating baked potatoes! A similar reprimand as before.

The fourth and final visit, I protested complete innocence.
The Officer鈥檚 chef had put sugar in the soup by mistake and salt in the desert - I pleaded 鈥榥ot guilty鈥�.

The final recurrence arose as follows. One of the ships in the convoy had been torpedoed, presumably in the stern as the focsle and large parts of the ship were pointing skywards out of the water. We were sent back to complete the sinking of the vessel, so as not to endanger the remaining convoy. The gunnery officer decided to treat this as a practice exercise. We had two large guns, A gun, on the upper deck and immediately below, B gun on the lower deck. I was given a stopwatch to time the firing of the B gun, and the exercise commenced. However, when A gun was fired with a terrific bang, the shell passed over my head. I jumped out of my skin, causing me to stop the watch and consequently, ruined the exercise. The gunnery officer was not amused!

My stay in Chatham lasted from 14th April 1945 to 30th June 1945, again working in the stores as a Leading Supply Assistant. On 1st July 1945, I joined a minesweeper 鈥楲aertes鈥�, a smaller ship than previously and spent a few weeks in Antwerp whilst the ship undertook a refit. We swept mine fields around the coast of England and Ireland and then on Gibraltar and Malta. From there to Alexandria and Port Said where the young boys had sisters that we were invited to meet. However, we received black boot polish on our white uniforms when we refused their invitation.

On through the Suez Canal, a dip in the bitter lakes, next port of call Aden, where we played a game of football against the local garrison and lost badly. I played left half, the captain of our team said that I should have been 鈥榣eft out鈥�. Moving on through the Indian Ocean our next port of call was Ceylon, now renamed Sri Lanka.
We had been at sea a considerable time and were entitled to dress the ship with white ribbon, so many yards for each month. This was duly attached to the mast and the captain decided that we would arrive in Colombo in style. The Japanese war had ended, we therefore had to get over the sides and repaint the ship鈥�.sailor鈥檚 way鈥︹�檌f it moves, salute. If it doesn鈥檛, paint it鈥�. That night the Stoker on watch fell asleep and the piston or big end or whatever a ship may have, blew up. This meant that we were ignominiously towed into Colombo Harbour rather than arriving in style as envisaged. I did not know what happened to the stoker.

From Colombo to Trincolomee, we were told, the deepest harbour in the world. Here in the market place I cracked my head on the beam of a market stall, whereupon the owner of the stall informed me that he had a nice big girl in the back room just for me. I declined with the genuine excuse of a headache.

The next and final port of call was to Singapore, our Far East base and we swept mines around Sumatra and Borneo, spending a day at the races. We had one trip up country in Malaya where we visited a Buddhist temple and after dodging a few snakes were led to a bar in the middle of nowhere, where hooch was served in half coconut shells.

We are now into late 1946 and commenced our homeward journey via Bombay and Karachi, where our lunch was slaughtered on the quayside. I do not remember whether we mine swept in that area.

Minesweeping for me was a sinecure, all the hatches were battened down meaning I was unable to reach the stores, we could only sweep in shallow water, as the mines are held down by a weight on the bed of the sea and we did not mine sweep in rough weather. Paradise compared to the Atlantic. One of my jobs was to shoot holes in the mines as they surfaced. I had training and target shooting but I was never given a rifle during a sweep. They were commandeered by the officers. The danger arose when two mines collided on the wire holding the cutter 鈥� a rather large explosion was caused.

We finally arrived back in Harwich in October 1946 where the ship was decommissioned. The mosquito netting was missing, apparently it made very good net curtains! I was not guilty!

On 16th October 1946 I arrived back in Chatham and was released on 27th December 1946. Not allowed home for Christmas but saw the New Year in a baggy brown pin striped demob suit, still a Leading Supply Assistant with the Atlantic Star and other medals, whose character during three years sea service was very good, so said the Commanding Officer of H.M.S Pembroke.

A Jack Dusty who met admirable people but never became an Admiral.

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