����ý

'This story was submitted to the People’s War site by a volunteer from CSV London on behalf of Douglas Charles Chandler and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

Nighttime here brought lots of activity. We could hear the noise of our own shells passing overhead, firing from BugBug guns and occasionally plopping on the sides or the top of these slate like slopes but we thought we would be very unlucky if one just dropped over the top and fell amongst us. Since this was the first time we had been able to lie down for a fortnight we slept well in spite of the hazards. Each day we were given a bowl of soup to share between us, a piece of German sausage and sometimes a piece of rye bread. During the day we had to content ourselves just walking about the immediate area of something like 100 x 50 yds. Being deep in the bottom of the wadi there was very little to be seen. If a plane went overhead it was only in view for a short while. There were as many guesses as to what was happening outside, as there were men. One morning we were shattered by the news we received- greatly to the delight of the German Soldiers who passed on the information that the Japs had blown up the American fleet. This of course was the Pearl Harbour episode, and although we couldn’t get any further details we obviously felt the seriousness of the situation.

After about a week, in the dusk of one evening we were sitting round a small fire, which had been built up after gathering burnable Vegetation, we heard a very much louder tearing noise, which seemed to crack in the air. This was new, and everybody gave a start, hearts in mouths. This was much nearer too. We soon learned after hearing it once or twice that it was from large guns being fired from a large Warship in the Med, one of our own cruisers or battleships. If they had found the range up the centre of the wadi we would not have lasted long. It was only spasmodic through the night and the next day, but they were starting to get their range. Their target was not us, but the top of the pass where the planes had no doubt spotted wireless aerials and pillbox shaped lookouts built by the Germans. Nevertheless we did not want to stay there any longer than we could possibly help, and were very relieved to hear next day that we were to move.

There were about fifty or sixty men here now and we were told to be ready to move off at dusk. We had very few belongings to gather together- what little we possessed we pushed into our pockets. Everybody was still in desert dress- shirts and shorts although the odd one here and there had greatcoats. We made our way down the wadi towards the sea, a difficult trip in the dark, slipping and floundering on the smooth surface, with the Germans muttering and indicating quietness, We didn’t quite realise the point of this as there was plenty of noise otherwise, After about mile trek we were put into an open-backed lorry and taken towards the beach. It was now pitch dark and small groups of enemy troops were standing about the beach quietly murmuring to one another. To one side there was a small quay and after two or three hours of waiting a little tug-like boat put in at the quay. It was just about this moment we were shaken by exploding shells again. These were easily recognised as being mortar fire- obviously once more our own troops were not far away. The only snag was a sheer cliff separated us, which was impossible to negotiate from that point and to attempt any breakaway would have been ridiculous. We were eventually waded on to the small craft and we gathered that we were to be taken round to Bardia. We couldn’t believe our luck for we understood that New Zealand Troops had overrun this port. We thought maybe the Germans were handing us back…. what a hope! or perhaps they didn’t know we had occupied this area. Either thought was pleasing and bucked us up no end. It was going to be a change of situation and we were only too glad to leave Hellfire Pass, which was living up to its name. We heard later that the Navy did go in and shell the place to smithereens shortly after our departure. We sailed on through the night and the following morning we pulled into Bardia. Here our hopes were dashed again — the place was bristling with German and Italian Troops.

Apparently the New Zealand forces had actually taken Bardia but were so few in number they were unable to stay and hold it and had to press on up the desert. As they left the Germans walked back in. At this point we were herded into an open compound where there were some 2000 British troops. This was obviously a gathering-point for those captured in the area. Some were very new prisoners, having been in captivity for only a day or two. A couple of Aussies were soon passing the time of day playing two-up, and gradually amassing anything of value. The nights were now pretty chilly often damp. There was no choice but to lie down and sleep as best we could and speculate on the prospects. There was a chance of being released, unfortunately for some of us it was not to be.

Under the Med
The next stage of our journey began on the third night when five of us were taken from the compound down to the water's edge and put in a small building- approx. 8'x 8'- which was completely dark this could have been some sort of fortification or an old boat house, but we did not see it in daylight, our group of five just had to sit and wait. Apparently we had been chosen as the most senior because of the Chevron stripes on our uniforms. We couldn’t see one another and very little could be heard of what was going on outside. We chatted on and off but there seemed little to talk about except to contemplate out fate. We tried to glean some information from the guards posted around. We had no great knowledge of the language at this time and had to depend normally on hand waving, which in this darkness got us nowhere. Sometime during the early hours of the morning we were taken out and ushered into a small boat at the water's edge, which pulled out immediately towards what was a dark shape some 400 yards off shore. When our eyes got accustomed to the darkness we this shape turned out to be a submarine.

We were hoisted aboard, quickly ushered along the bobbing deck, up the coning tower and hurried down into the engine room, where we were all blindfolded and led through the boat. We finished up at one end under what we later discovered ware the torpedo tubes. This was to be our home for the next five days.

We only experienced a slight rolling sensation as we moved off. We debated our ultimate destination but with no lead we couldn’t get anywhere and of course we could do nothing about it anyway. The interior of a submarine was a complete mystery to us, and something of a novelty. We were fascinated by the fact that although we were instructed to keep quiet and remove our shoes. At a later date when we mentioned this silence to some of our British sub-mariners it caused quite a laugh. The asdict apparatus which was in use in those days to determine the whereabouts of submarines would certainly have recorded the hulk of the vessel much sooner than our possible tappings. A sailor appeared and continually cranked a large wheel, which made very much more noise than could possibly have made by jumping up and down. A crewman stood beside the crank handle all throughout the daylight hours to keep the vessel stable against the various currents. First he turned to the right and then to the left on instructions from a voice we learned later came from the engine room. At first the hydroplane process was interesting however the incessant barking of orders to the crew through the intercom soon started to grate. This right and left rotating movement we gleaned was either raising or lowering the hydroplanes. By talking to one of the crew who could speak reasonable English we found that the strategy was to lie well below the surface during the day and to sail only at night. This we learned was an older Italian sub. The reserve oxygen on board just about lasted a day, at the end of which our breathing would be very heavy, the poor hydroplane operator found it very difficult to keep his handle cranking.

During the long days time passed slowly, punctuated only by orders from the Italian Commander of "chinqua alto, chinquo basto"or"duo basta""""un alto, ""etc. With us as extra passengers there was a gradual reduction in the oxygen supply. Towards the end of the day it was at a very low level, only at night on surface was it replenished. The experience of diving at dawn and surfacing at dusk passed off the first two days without incident, though the quarters 8ft x 8ft with a bucket as a toilet were cramped to say the least for the five of us. On the third morning the distant dull boom we learned from the crew was the sound of bursting depth charges. Complete silence was ordered and with explosions getting closer there were anxious faces all round. There was nothing that could be done and calmness prevailed. The crew was able to estimate the distance from the depth charges as they came closer. When finally the danger passed the submarine crew was once again buoyed by the prospect of getting home soon.
The 5 captives were led one at a time to the control room to stretch their limbs and were each given a brief view of daylight through the periscope before returning to their claustrophobic and foul atmosphere.

Suddenly there was aloud ringing reverberating through the sub and we crash dived. Several crewmembers scrambled into the aft section and the watertight doors were closed. The Boat tipped alarmingly, more so than on previous occasions, and the depth indicator showed rapid decent. Orders were given to prepare to fire torpedoes, seemed as if we were about to be attached by the British. The likelihood of being caught like this after surviving the ordeal so far was devastating. After an anxious time, news came from the control room that aircraft had been spotted but the danger had passed and things returned to normal.

We could not of course know our whereabouts or what was happening, but four days brought us off Benghazi. It was now the 23rd of December 1941. Sometime during that afternoon there was considerable jubilation going on further up the boat and we soon learned the reason they had received a message to proceed home to Taranto and not to land at Benghazi. Later when we got the facts we found that we had missed being freed twice inside a week, because two days after leaving Bardia the remainder were released by advancing British troops, who by now were sweeping up the desert and reached Benghazi on Christmas day. Had we landed there was no doubt we would also have been released. We could hardly say we had “missed the boat”...we were in it.
This meant lying another eventful day in the submarine. Whilst lying doggo we heard depth charges exploding around us. The British Navy was cleaning up the Med. Fortunately for us we only heard them, although it’s a chilling thought to realise that two out of three were being hit. It was an anxious time, especially when suddenly the claxon sounded. We were ignored in the rush for action stations, but it was a false alarm.

The following morning we were just off Taranto Harbour. It was Christmas Eve and we surfaced but after a short while it was as if we were having a training course for submariners, without warning we again crash dived. This was all we needed the dive was steep to about 140 feet in just a few minutes. It was sensational to us and a remark of “what the hell’s up now? Was the question we wanted to ask? However it was strangely quiet. Everyone including the crew wondered if this would be the end. It was difficult to know what was worse, to know that being blown to bits was a possibility or knowing that the last thing you might hear was the thumping of your own pulse, even the hydroplane cranking was stopped.

Finally late on Christmas Eve we resurfaced and approached the harbour where we got to see the sky the first time in five days and we were glad of it. Looking back this was quite an experience traveling under the sea, in spite of the anxious moments. With the thought we were now on enemy soil our chances of freedom had dwindled to almost zero. We were not allowed to look round this area, but were bundled into a van. There had obviously been considerable damage inflicted by our Royal Navy to both craft and buildings in the dock area. In fact most of the Italian Navy had gone underground.

Please go to: A4518614 to see the next section of this story, part 5.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.