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The sea became very rough indeed, with 30' and 40' waves. When Watchman and Wanderer, in company, had slid simultaneously into the troughs of their respective waves, the whole of each ship, to the tops of the masts, disappeared from the view of the other. During the night below in the Mess a wide-based galvanized iron bucket full of large potatoes fell over, and all the potatoes rumbled from side to side across the deck all night in two inches of water, and we had much splintered woodwork. Even the Captain was sea-sick, and it was the only time that I was ever affected. I recorded managing to drink two cups of cold water and pouring it straight out onto the deck less than a minute later. We had to heave-to for a time, and then proceed slow-ahead. Our ASDIC dome, a huge 'pod' below the ship, was carried away, and on the 19th we turned back for Londonderry, but altered course for Belfast, and anchored off Bangor. There divers investigated the damage and we were towed by two tugs into a floating dock. A floating dock is in reality a ship, shaped like a square U in section, which lowers itself in the water by flooding its tanks so that the ship for docking can sail in between its vertical walls, and then the dock surfaces under it by blowing its tanks, raising the ship high and dry. I was surprised to find that within the thickness of the vertical walls were offices, accommodation, and rooms with very welcome hot showers. At this point we exchanged our captain for a new one, whom we disliked.
At 1800 on the 21st we sailed with our new dome for Moville, oiling there and leaving at 0330 on the 23rd for 62O North, 23O West, to join our convoy. On Christmas Eve we increased speed to 20 knots to rescue survivors of the U.S.S.Nero, torpedoed at 0500. We had passed 47O West on the 23rd, but had not altered our clocks. On Christmas Day Hurricane was torpedoed. (After the War it was ascertained that the attack was carried out by the U275.) Casualties included one killed, five missing, and nine wounded. Watchman and Glenarm stood by to screen, and to transfer the surviving crew, and then we sunk Hurricane, and I half-masted our Ensign from 1600 to 1630 for the dead, and the clocks went back an hour. Our Christmas Dinner was pork chops, boiled potatoes, and cabbage. Next day we hunted two submarines for 16 miles, but both kept out of range so we returned to the convoy.
On the 27th, Boxing-Day, it was very warm and lads were sunning themselves on the upper deck. The next day we sailed into Horta, on Fayal Island, in the Azores. We put our clocks back twice that day, at 1615 and 1815, and so were three hours behind BST. We transferred the Hurricane survivors to the ex-U.S.Destroyers Leamington and Montgomery for Londonderry. Since Fayal was a neutral port, our stay there was limited, and we sailed for Ponta Delgada, on San Miguel Island, where we seemed to have a kind of lease, arriving at 1400 on the 29th. Cruising peacefully among these islands, I felt that I could well imagine the old pirate days, and half expected to see Long John Silver sail into view, flying the Jolly Roger.
This was my first sight of a foreign country. The town presented an exotic picture from the anchorage, the houses being of many colours, including white and many shades of orange, pink, red, yellow, and green. The currency was 100 Portuguese Centavos to one Escudo, at the rate of 60 Escudos to the 拢1.
Our frozen turkeys came forth from the refrigerator and were duly roasted and consumed, followed by plum duff. As we lay at anchor the local traders swarmed out to us in boats and offered all manner of goods for sale. They would shout up to us to catch and secure a line, and, after much bargaining, transfer the goods and the money in baskets. I bought a small keg+ ornamented with basket-work, a lidded basket, a dozen ripe bananas (the original, real, small kind, which I ate there and then), green bananas to send home, a dozen oranges, and a box of fifty small cigars. The latter I successfully smuggled home by putting them in the basket with two dozen green bananas, three boxes of matches, two bags of figs, and eight bars of chocolate, padlocking the basket and sending it by registered post, having posted the key home in a previous letter. I see from the card+ which I attached to the basket that the postage cost me 1/3d.
Our Tanky (Storeman) became drunk, perhaps on rum saved-up for Christmas, came up on deck, somehow scrambled down into one of these boats, and rocking precariously began to seize the straw hats for sale and throw them skimming into the water, evoking much protest in pitiful Portuguese. When Lieutenant Challis ordered him to return he replied in most impolite terms, but was somehow subdued and hauled aboard.
We left Ponta Delgada at 0100 on the 30th, proceeding at 20 knots to join Group B3 and a convoy. The provisions which had come aboard in the Azores included black bread, which turned mouldy rather quickly, yak, and yams. The yak meat was so tough that the only way it could be rendered edible was by long stewing, and we all sat around our mess-table in the evening laboriously cutting it into small pieces. After the novelty of sweet potatoes had worn off, none of us much liked the yams either. When the bread was gone we were reduced to ship's biscuits again. They were made by Spillers of dog-biscuit fame, and were very hard indeed, but quite palatable once one had managed to bite a piece off, or break it off with pliers. Those who knew something about cooking set about making miscellaneous tarts and pies and puddings to replace the bread at tea-times. Unfortunately we had lost our rolling-pin, so we had to break the handle off a cup.
On our way to the convoy we came across a body in the sea, and lowered a boat with our quack aboard to attend to the grisly details. The body was that of a German sailor, and we salvaged his identity-disc and weighted him to sink. On the 31st we put our clocks forward one hour at 0100 and another at 0500, and joined the convoy at first light. Our first task was to escort Striker, an Attack Class Escort Carrier, (a converted merchantman, commonly referred to as a Woolworth's Carrier, from this convoy to another, and then return with the Frigate Tweed, which was sunk by U305 a week later, on January 7th. We parted company on Sunday the 2nd, bound for Londonderry, and being on the Middle Watch on the 4th/5th when the clocks were advanced another hour at 0100, I had the good fortune to stand a three-hour watch. We arrived at Moville at 0600, and left at 1800 on the Thursday, yet in that short period we were not allowed to rest, but sent out on ASDIC exercises, and on a High-Angle shoot, but the drogue-towing aircraft did not appear.
We sailed at 1800 on the 6th with Wanderer, Glenarm, and the Sloop Woodpecker (replacing Hurricane). (Woodpecker was torpedoed by a U-Boat on February 27th, and foundered in tow.) For the next seven days we escorted various convoys for short periods. I came to envy the merchantmen, because they made a complete crossing, whereas we seemed to convoy them from the proximity of one coast to the other, with various diversions in emergencies, and never witnessed the satisfactory culmination of the task.
On the 14th we were again in Horta, to oil and sail for Londonderry. On the 18th my hammock was filled with sea-water through an unclosed hatch, and I had to leave it to dry all day in the boiler-room. From that time my blanket acquired a certain bristly stiffness which it never quite lost. We arrived on the 19th, having steamed 30,000 sea-miles since leaving Londonderry, and proceeded to No.14 Berth for seven days' boiler-cleaning, and the Starboard Watch went on seven days' leave on the 20th. On each arrival in port our Postie went ashore for the mail, and there would be a rush of letters. My list on the 20th read: Joyce 4, Home 5, Grandma 1, Bob 1, Vicar 1, Hilda & Alec 1, Don 1, Ernie 1, parcel of cake and apples from home, jigsaw from Auntie Win.' I answered my letters whilst at sea, and messmates would tease me when they saw me posting my replies in the ship's box in mid-Atlantic, but it seemed perfectly practical and logical to me to do so.
I did not buy my 1944 diary until we returned to Londonderry on Saturday 22nd, and, unaccountably, I recorded that day and the next on the pages for March 22nd/23rd, and so had to use the January pages when those days arrived. In the afternoon I shewed a party of Sea-Scouts over the ship. When conducting a young lady on such a tour, it was said that certain lascivious sailors would offer to show her the Golden Rivet, assuring her that every ship had one down below decks; but the article such sailors had in mind was not quite what the young lady might have envisaged.
On the 29th Harry Copeland was discharged to Barracks. He was missed. He had equipped himself with hair-clippers and scissors, and was in demand to perform hair-cuts at sixpence a time, especially when we were nearing port and leave was likely. It was quite entertaining to see him and his customer in a rough sea trying to maintain sufficient equilibrium for the operation to proceed.
On Sunday 30th I attended Evensong at St.Augustine's Church and stayed on for the Communion. As I was leaving, two ladies a little older than myself approached me and asked whether I would like to go home with them and meet their parents and have supper. They were called Thompson, and lived at Knockatrina, 68 Duncreggan Road. Next day I took them a 陆lb tin of pipe tobacco and told them we would be sailing next day. We left in company with the Frigate Strule, which was in fact the Glenarm, now on loan to the Norwegian Navy, and renamed, Wanderer, and the Corvettes Carisbrooke Castle, Porchester Castle, and Berkeley Castle, and I began swotting for Signalman T.O. (Trained Operator). On the 5th we received an Admiralty Fleet Order offering release from the Navy for any volunteering to work in the coal-mines.
One day a seaman was cleaning the starboard 艗rlikon and accidentally fired it. The shell shot off up the River, but we never heard that it had hit anything vital.
I had acquired a copy of The Seamanship Manual, and began to practise tying a wall-and-crown, double wall-and-crown, a monkey's fist, and a manrope knot. Our convoy was joined on the 9th by Group B5, including the Frigate Nene, the Corvette Snowberry, and Edmonston. On the 10th we left our eastbound convoy and joined a westbound, course 055O. At sea we always had a steel cable rigged at a height of six feet from the fo'c'sle to the quarterdeck each side of the ship, with wire running-loops on which to 'strap-hang' when traversing the deck, to guard against being swept overboard, and on reaching the end one sent the loop back for the next traveller, but in spite of this provision for our safety it was so rough the following night that the order was piped, Hands not allowed to proceed along the upper deck. There was a 100 m.p.h. gale, the ship listing 45O on each roll, and we suffered damage and minor casualties.
Next day we oiled at sea from the convoy oiler, and set course for 61O North, 20O West, to carry out a sweep with three Algerine Class Minesweepers, Rattlesnake, Cockatrice, and Loyalty. By the 12th we had no bread except that which the cook could bake, which allowed us two slices each per day, no washing water, no potatoes and no meat. Having completed our sweep off Iceland, B1 was ordered to proceed to Scapa Flow.
On the 14th we almost carried out our own version of the St.Valentine's Day Massacre. At first light a look-out reported, Starboard Look-out Bridge; Submarine on the surface, right ahead! I had just reached the bridge for the forenoon watch when the forward gun fired twice, and I could see a dark shape in front of us, just like a conning-tower
The gunlayers could fire accurately as to bearing, but could not immediately judge the range, and it was often the case that the first shell would drop short, the second would pass over the target, and the third would make a hit. Luckily, just before the third, the target turned slightly, and we saw that it was a little Icelandic fishing-boat. By then the starboard 艗rlikon was joining in. The Gunnery Officer shouted Check Check Check! and we man艙uvred alongside and shouted our apologies by loud-hailer, but received no reaction from the little wheelhouse, saw no evidence of damage, and stole guiltily away.

(A copy of this chapter was deposited amongst the archives of the Department of Documents in the Imperial War Museum, Lambeth Road, London SE1 6HZ, in 1995.)

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