大象传媒

The following story by Terence Robertson is out of copyright and appears courtesy of and with thanks to Mike Kemble, and Captain Frederic John Walker.

The Group sailed with the aircraft-carrier, Vindex, for mid Atlantic, a sister sloop, Whimbrel, having joined as a replacement for the lost Woodpecker. It seemed that their hunt might well prove fruitless; one U-boat in the Atlantic being almost like the proverbial needle in a haystack. To help, the Group had intercepted the U-boat鈥檚 wireless signals on HF/DF and the search area was narrowed down to a few hundred miles after a week of hunting. Eventually, at dawn some two days later, their quarry was discovered in a copybook combined air-sea operation. The Atlantic weather had turned nasty again and asdic conditions were not helped by the high running seas. Vindex flew off her dawn patrol and after an hour the aircraft broke out of cloud directly above the U-boat which had surfaced ten miles from the Group. She crash-dived on sighting the plane, but the sloops were already heading for the scene at full speed. The infallible Wild Goose made contact first and, after handing the echo to Starling, waited for Walker鈥檚 order to begin the attack. As a preliminary, designed to force the enemy to dive deep, he took Starling in for a medium-depth pattern which should have pinned her down nicely for Wild Goose. Unfortunately for Wemyss and his crew, Starling鈥檚 pattern destroyed the enemy, much to Walker鈥檚 personal astonishment. As it had become the Group鈥檚 unwritten rule that the first ship to detect an enemy should have the privilege of opening the attack, he sent the following signal to Wild Goose. 鈥淚 am guilty of flagrant poaching. Very much regret my unwarrantable intrusion into your game.鈥� So U-653 was sunk by what was merely intended to be a softener attack before hostilities opened in earnest. When this success had been reported to the Commander- in-Chief, Western Approaches, and the Group had celebrated, orders were received to proceed with dispatch to Scapa Flow, main base for the Home Fleet. At once a crop of rumours spread through the sloops that something big was in the wind, something, for instance, like a Russian convoy. On March 28th, Starling, Wild Goose, Magpie, Wren and Whimbrel sailed from Scapa to join two other Groups as escorts for the Russian-bound convoy JW 58 which carried aircraft and guns for the Red Army and Air Force. Also in company were two old friends from the mid-Atlantic patrols, the aircraft-carriers Tracker and Activity, and the senior officer of the combined force was the Rear-Admiral in command of the cruiser, Diadem, then a comparatively new ship and leader of the Tenth Cruiser Squadron.
To Walker, who assumed automatic command of the three escorting Groups of sloops and destroyers, it soon became apparent that their real task was to ensure the safe arrival in Russia of a huge four-funnelled American cruiser, the USS Milwaukee, which was placed in the centre of the convoy. It was a gift from President Roosevelt to the Russian leader as a token of the American people鈥檚 appreciation of Red Army successes. Although sailing with an American crew under the Stars and Stripes, she was under the care and protection of the Royal Navy until reaching Russia. Before leaving Scapa, Walker had been warned at a briefing conference that, whatever the fate of the rest of the force, Milwaukee had to reach Russia intact as Mr. Churchill thought it might prove more than a little embarrassing if he had to explain to the President and Stalin why this symbol of Soviet-American friendship lay undelivered at the bottom of the Arctic. The Admiralty and the various senior officers at Scapa Flow concerned with Milwaukee鈥檚 fate were fully aware of the responsibility. It was thought that the operation needed not only a large escort of powerful anti submarine striking ships but also a senior officer of strong calibre and experience to discourage the enemy. But if Walker was senior officer of the escorts, he was by no means in command of the entire force. This authority was vested in Diadem and, no matter how he tried, he could not extricate his ships from the welter of orthodox Fleet instructions which came from Diadem鈥檚 bridge. Throughout the first day, batteries of signal lamps blinked from the big ships in the middle of which Walker tried to get permission to carry out a practice shoot. Starling鈥檚 Yeoman of Signals tried patiently to get a word in edgewise at the chattering Diadem for more than twenty minutes before Walker, red-faced with anger and thoroughly upset at the screening orders, told him to abandon the attempt and turned to Burn, acting as staff gunnery officer to the Group, to say: 鈥淚鈥檓 sorry. I just can鈥檛 seem to get a thing out of that ship.鈥� For the Group, these were strange waters. It was not too cold if the men kept themselves well wrapped up in their Arctic clothing, but the weather played havoc with the senses. There were only four hours darkness for most nights and the days were strangely unreal with so much daylight and no twilight or dawn. Atmospheric conditions distorted wireless beams and HF/DF interceptions of enemy signals were not only frequent but gave wildly inaccurate bearings. On the night of the 3oth, Starling literally stumbled across a U-boat. They picked up asdic contact about a mile to starboard and attacked with two hurriedly-fired patterns set to explode between 150 and 300 feet. There was a tremendous under-water explosion followed by a stream of oil, wreckage and dead bodies floating to the surface. U-961 a newly-commissioned boat outward bound from Norway to the Atlantic on her first war patrol, and chiefly concerned with making a safe passage through the 鈥淩ose Garden鈥�, as the Germans called the area south of Iceland where they often had a bad time, was destroyed without ever knowing what had hit her. It is certain she had no evil intentions towards the convoy and probably had no idea she was anywhere near a force of warships. She took no evading action and, in Walker鈥檚 words to his officers later: 鈥淪he was that rare thing these days, a genuine mug.鈥� On another night, Walker picked up radar contact with a U-boat two miles from him and, ordering the Group to form up on him, gave chase at full speed. The enemy ran away on the surface and was out of range at dawn, but carrier aircraft dived on her and scored direct hits. Starling picked up evidence of destruction a few minutes later. By this time the Group had fallen well behind the convoy and, as they turned to catch up at full speed, visibility became astonishing. Tiny stakes sticking up like needles over the horizon showed the position of the convoy; as they closed the range, hulls of ships appeared as thin, grey pencils which grew larger until finally taking shape. At times the merchant ships seemed to be flying several feet above the water in a glassy, hazy mirage while, on occasion, the water turned upside down and the ships sailed on the tips of their masts. Snow squalls appeared frequently and with startling suddenness. They could be seen forming up miles away and racing across the sea like white blankets lowered to the surface from huge black clouds. Officers of the Watch found it broke the monotony by varying their zigzags to avoid the squalls.
The Group had nearly taken up their proper stations again when Wild Goose, true to her old tradition, found good enough reason to break this unreal peace and indulge in a practice shoot. Commander Weymss asked Walker for permission to fire his guns, a request which was passed on to Diadem. It was refused on the ground that a single shot fired within sight or sound of the convoy would be welcomed by all as a chance to loose off a magazine or two and thus create confusion. No sooner had Walker regretfully repeated this decision to Wild Goose, than her guns blared viciously and little puffs of black smoke appeared low on the horizon. Almost at once an enemy aircraft was seen dancing just above the sea in a misty haze out of range of the sloop鈥檚 guns. Undoubtedly the pilot was reporting the convoy to German headquarters in Norway, and wheels were turning to intercept and interrupt their peaceful passage. Undeterred, Wemyss signalled gleefully to Walker: 鈥淧ractice shoot completed.鈥� Shortly afterwards, fighters flown off from the two carriers dived on the enemy who vanished disconsolately into the watery haze. This was only the beginning for the Fleet Air Arm. The weather deteriorated until solid squalls of snow, rain and hail spread across the sky. Huge hailstones whipped the faces of those on watch until it was impossible to look into the wind with open eyes. Yet through all this the aircraft took off on daily sorties against enemy shadowers. During the next few days and nights the U-boats gathered for a mass attack. HF/DF interceptions came rapidly but Walker refused to use up time, energy and fuel in chasing them all. There were several nightly skirmishes but no major attack developed. The force arrived off Vaenga Bay, the escort base near Murmansk, on April 4th and parted company with the convoy. A Russian pilot was embarked in Starling to lead the Group into the anchorage and, to make matters difficult, he could speak not a word of English. The Engineer Officer who had been to Russia once and claimed to speak the language was sent for to ask the pilot how far it was to the Bay. With the pilot looking over his shoulder, he put a finger on the chart where Vaenga Bay was marked and uttered strange sounds supposed to be Russian for 鈥淗ow far?鈥� The Russian looked at him stolidly and said: 鈥淯gh鈥�. The Engineer Officer repeated his verbal acrobatics and each time received the stolid, 鈥淯gh鈥�. Eventually he left the bridge in disgust muttering angrily under his breath something about these 鈥渋gnorant blasted Russians鈥�. After this the pilot navigated Starling by pointing in various directions and grunting in different tones. When they had anchored safely, the problem arose of how to entertain the pilot. He was taken down to the Wardroom and Walker started proceedings by offering him a glass of the most powerful and virulent gin on board in the hope that he might mistake it for bad vodka. The Russian gulped it down in one and shook his head in strong disapproval. John Filleul followed by handing him a glass of whisky which again vanished in one gulp followed by a vigorous shaking of the pilot鈥檚 head. A variety of other drinks received the same reaction until it was time for dinner and the officers, who had been matching the pilot鈥檚 drinks, were in fine fettle. Language difficulties were fast disappearing and half way through the meal most of the Wardroom was gaily incoherent. Then it was noticed that their guest was looking sullen and unhappy; he had no drink. It fell to the Navigator to save Starling鈥檚 prestige. Clearing his throat he said loudly: 鈥淏ring the pilot one of those half-crown (12p) bottles of cooking port.鈥� After downing the first glass of this real red infuriator, the guest rolled his eyes and licked his lips with joy; at last he had been given a drink suitable to the Russian palate. In ten minutes he finished the bottle, and a second vanished with equal speed and dexterity. Then, with some assistance, he made his way to the Captain鈥檚 cabin and collapsed on the bunk, happily out to the world.
The Second Support Group鈥檚 stay in Russia was brief and unexciting. They watched a concert put on by a Russian Naval theatrical company but there was little else to do, and the lack of such ordinary institutions as pubs, cinemas and dance halls proved an incentive to stay aboard. Starling鈥檚 officers had not yet visited the newcomer, Whimbrel, so with the pilot in company they proposed to call, taking care to warn the sloop in advance that cooking port was a 鈥渕ust鈥� for the guest. While in Whimbrel鈥檚 Wardroom that night there was a sudden commotion on deck. A sailor, overcome with emotion at being so close to the birthplace of Communism, attempted to desert the Royal Navy to seek happier days in Stalin鈥檚 ships. He had thrown a Carley raft overboard, jumped down into it and was paddling furiously for shore. Whimbrel鈥檚 crew lined the ship鈥檚 side in awed silence to watch this performance. The would-be deserter had forgotten to let go the rope securing the raft to the ship and there he was, some twenty yards away, pulling the rope tight with long, powerful thrusts of the paddle while the raft stayed exactly in the same spot. Eventually, several sailors hauled the raft slowly back to the ship, but the red-minded seaman, intent on his paddling, failed to notice in the darkness that he was going backwards until the raft bounced gently against the ship鈥檚 side and he turned to look up at his ship-mates who were gazing down in sheer wonderment. There was a gale of laughter which echoed across the harbour as he was pulled aboard, crestfallen and angry, to face punishment. There was nothing impressive about Russian life ashore. The value of money appeared to be nil and, in consequence, even the street urchins, of whom there were many, seemed to have plenty; fantastic prices were asked for chocolates and cigarettes but there was little else to buy. During the voyage home there were no serious engagements with the enemy and Walker grumbled later that it was marked only by 鈥渢he humiliating experience of getting three U-boats by radar and visual sighting, only to get no asdic contact at all once they dived, conditions were so bad鈥�. While the main force of warships broke away from the convoy they were escorting to head for Scapa Flow, Walker and his Group were ordered to return to Liverpool, where they arrived on the 14th of April.

Continued.....
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