大象传媒

Here is a true life story, written by my father-in-law of a man and a ship: operational off Arrowmanches on the night before D-Day, 6 June 1944

I also have a number of photographs of the ship and her crew.

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H.D.M.L.1383

Of the various 鈥榗lasses鈥� of naval craft, none was so misnamed as the
Harbour Defence Motor Launch

For the two and a half years of her commission, HDML1383 entered harbour only to refuel, re-store and once, to carry out major repairs.
For the rest we were constantly engaged on escort duties, anti-submarine duties, rescue duties, mine-sweeping duties, convoy guidance, investigative patrols: wherever there was need we, in common with most HDML鈥檚 were there.

A Personal Story

I entered Royal Naval 鈥楪eneral鈥� Service in 1942.

As my experience is probably typical of 鈥楬ostilities Only鈥� recruits
it might have some marginal, historical interest.

After induction and initial training at HMS Royal Arthur in company with a large number of other recruits, a battery of aptitude tests left me classified as suitable for Motor Mechanic Engineering School. However I had joined the Navy to go to sea, not to be employed in a workshop ashore so on being drafted to barracks in Portsmouth and hearing a call for volunteers for 鈥楶atrol Service鈥� I put my name forward. The 鈥楶atrol Service鈥� had a reputation for hard and dangerous conditions, and maybe the payment of sixpence a day 鈥榟ard-lying money鈥� had a certain panache. I found myself on a train to Lowestoft and the engineering school at St.Luke鈥檚 Hospital where, after a period of training on 鈥榠nternal combustion鈥� engines, I received a posting to HMS Memento then busy with a variety of escort duties out of Oban on the West Coast of Scotland.

HMS Memento鈥� was no 鈥榞reyhound of the ocean鈥� having before the war been a 鈥榬ing鈥攏etter鈥� out of Buckie. Tubby McCleod, the Engineman had in fact been her engineer then. The 鈥楩irst Hand鈥� had skippered his own trawler out of Fleetwood. The gunner was a fisherman from Grimsby. The cook, a good humoured Liverpool docker delighted in serving us his local delicacy, 鈥楽couse.鈥� The Captain, whom we rarely saw, was a frail-seeming, reputedly very wealthy man who spent most of his time in the spacious Wardroom which had been constructed in the old fish hold. As with the recruits at 鈥楻oyal Arthur,鈥� the crew was almost a microcosm of the 鈥榦ld Navy鈥� of press-gang days when a ship took not only the fit and able but the idle, the stupid and the criminal, and made seamen of them. For an impressionable youth, fresh from a merchant bank in the City, it was a glimpse of attitudes and life styles undreamed of. One seaman returned aboard after a run ashore one night. He had met a girl and together they walked into a quiet hillside outside Oban. At some point he turned on to her to have his way but she resisted. In matter of fact tones he related how he simply hit her until she submitted to being undressed and raped. It was the very casualness of his tale which was so chilling.

Crew conditions were primitive with ten double tier bunks built around the curve of the ship鈥檚 hull in the stern. The foredeck steam-winch boiler stood next to the only water closet so that one sat in warmth, but it was no place for the prudish as crew members passed to and fro making whatever comment they felt appropriate; and of course being sited so far forward, movement was hastened in rough weather. Hot water for washing oneself or one鈥檚 clothing was obtained by pulling a bucket of sea water from over the side and blowing a stream of super-heated steam through it from the winch boiler.

It was the engine room which was the marvel.

The main engine was an enormous six cylinder Gardiner semi-diesel.
The exposed domes of the six cylinders were fitted with individual blowlamps which had to be lit and the domes brought to white heat before compressed air was blown into the engine to get the pistons moving and the crankshaft turning.

Starting the engine was a brutally hot, noisy performance which demanded great agility to orchestrate the entire ballet.

HMS Memento was cramped, odorous and completely lacking in refinement but after the initial shock I loved every minute of my nine months among the Western Isles. We suffered brutal gales in the Winter when an enforced swim in freezing water left me wondering if my head was still connected. We collected Seagulls eggs for breakfast from the islands in the Spring We enjoyed languid airs among the islands in the Summer when a cry of. 鈥滿an overboard!鈥� from another ship found me in the water once again, pulling out a panic stricken idiot. We had freshly baked 鈥榖aps鈥� from a Baker on returning to Oban in an early morning. We swam and rowed and sailed the sheltered waters when duty allowed. Even my leaving had its moment, because as I left, the C.O. expressed regret for he had had, he said, 鈥淧lans for me.鈥�

Ah well, we鈥檒l never know!

I left 鈥楳emento鈥� in June 1943 and returned to St.Luke鈥檚 where the Commanding Officer was reputed to have made the famous comment that, 鈥淭he Petty Officers walk around as though they own the place, and the men walk around as though they don鈥檛 care who owns it.鈥�
I was to train as an Engineman.

My wish was to go rapidly back to sea but I was sent to Thornicrofts鈥� works in Reading for a six months Course on their Diesel engines. I enjoyed the smell of machine oil and the creative satisfaction of seeing inanimate pieces of metal turning under my hands into sophisticated machinery but at the end of the Course I was delighted to find myself transferred from Patrol Service to Light Coastal Forces with a posting to a brand new Motor Launch then nearing completion at Brightlingsea.

I met my new commanding officer, Lieutenant B.Kingdon RNVR in London and we travelled together to the builders鈥� boatyard where we saw her:

HDML 1383.

What a contrast with 鈥楬MS Memento!鈥�

She was seventy two sleek feet long with everything new and shining.
She was fitted throughout in smooth Mahogany to very high standards of workmanship. It was a joy to have my own Engine Room to order as I wished. The twin Thornicroft diesels were responsive and easy to manage, and the auxiliary engine for lighting and battery charging was a sturdy single cylinder Gardiner diesel which I was to meet ten years later pumping water from the Kafue River in Africa.

For once in naval construction, thought had been given to accommodation.

The crews鈥� quarters were for鈥檃rd as also was the Galley, with an internal 鈥榗ompanion way鈥� to the enclosed Wheelhouse. Behind the Wheelhouse was an open Bridge where a hatchway led down to the Engine Room, while another gave access to the 鈥榓fter quarters.鈥� These comprised a Cabin with its own toilet facilities shared by myself with the Coxswain; across the 鈥榗ompanion way鈥� was a Radio Cabin and aft of that a well fitted Wardroom.

As an Escort Vessel we were quite well equipped.

The 20mm Oerlikon aft was excellent. Two racks of 鈥榙epth charges鈥� looked purposeful although we never dropped any in anger. The Bridge carried twin Vickers .303 machine guns on each wing. On the 鈥榝oredeck鈥� we at first had a three pounder gun, from which the shell would sometimes scream into the far distance, or cause consternation by almost dropping out of the muzzle. Once it was replaced by another Oerlikon we were more effective. In my years afloat I never fired a weapon of any sort, nor was I ever hurt by one.

The Crew was typical of the those found on most small craft with the majority being in their late 鈥榯eens鈥� or early twenties plus an occasional older hand or two but almost none with any previous seagoing experience.

Our Commanding Officer known colloquially among the crew as 鈥楤ert,鈥� was a quiet self-contained man who had worked with the 大象传媒 before the war. The First Lieutenant, sub-Lieutenant de Nobriga RNVR, inevitably known as 鈥楴obby.鈥� was fresh out of 鈥榰niversity. He was young and keen for activity and new experience and we became as close to being friends as was practicable .At the end of the commission and after demobilisation, he arrived at my home in West London one day in a dashing red MG Sports Car and we renewed acquaintance. The Coxswain, Ernie Knott was a 鈥榮treet wise鈥� character from the 鈥楨ast End鈥� of London and at thirty four was the oldest man aboard. He possessed a fund of earthy aphorisms which tended to stick in the memory and a street philosophy which sometimes shocked younger crew members. I quote, 鈥楢 standing prick has no conscience,鈥� which seemed appropriate for the seaman mentioned on HMS Memento.

The seamen, stokers, signallers, cook, AZDIC, signals ratings and gunners were all late 鈥榯eens鈥� or early twenties. One, 鈥楾ich鈥� had the face and physique of a youthful boy but with adult tastes which gave him great success with young girls. Another seaman had been a shop assistant before joining the Navy where he proved to have a natural talent with guns. With a 20m Oerlikon he was a deadly shot and unless forcibly restrained would pick a soaring seagull out of the sky as easily as swatting a fly. He was an oddity in another way by completely disproving the saying, 鈥楾here is no smoke without fire.鈥� He was a compulsive liar who told the most blatant and pointless lies for no obvious reason or advantage; all they ever earned him was punishment. One of my 鈥榮tokers,鈥� a competent and practical man fresh from a Manchester mill, was engaged to a girl at home and on hearing we were to spend several days in port on one occasion, he arranged for her to visit. As he prepared to go ashore there was much loud speculation and 鈥榖ack-chat鈥� on the Messdeck as to how he could possibly entertain her in such a 鈥榙ead and alive鈥� place. He stopped all speculation by appearing stark naked from the 鈥楬eads鈥� and displaying an astonishing endowment; it was quite remarkable.
But enough!

They came from all walks of life with their own weaknesses, strengths and moral attitudes but to the Navy they were all seamen.

In the January of 鈥�44 we carried out a 鈥榮hake-down鈥� cruise running the full length of the East Coast, during which a series of particularly severe Winter gales drove us into the shelter of a variety of ports. We lay in Hartlepool where during a run ashore we found the biggest Dance Hall I have ever seen. On runs ashore the Crew usually went as a body, except for 鈥榳atchkeepers,鈥� and almost always headed for the local dance hall in search of company.

We ran into the Tyne for shelter where I was able to contact friends not seen for years. In the Firth of Forth we were storm bound for several days and I was able to renew family ties in Edinburgh with an uncle and aunt. Discipline was always easier on small ships and by bottling鈥� my daily tot of navy rum I brought a gleam to my uncle鈥檚 eye when I presented the elixir. I also took opportunity to get away from the coldest East wind I had ever known and slipped across to Paisley to visit 鈥楳arion,鈥� a girl whose name, address and photograph I had found inside a tin of Dobie鈥檚 Four Square pipe tobacco. This was something frequently done by girls working in tobacco factories making up 鈥榙uty free鈥� issue for naval ships. It was a harmless practice which brightened the lives of many sailors: and was illustrative of a time when all kinds of people reached out desperately for friendship and reassurance in what were very uncertain times. I had dinner with Marion鈥檚 family and paid a second visit but like all sailors eventually sailed away.

We left Leith but were soon driven to shelter in Buckie Harbour where we experienced at first hand the full, drab, tedium of a Scottish Sunday. We moved on to Inverness, and rather than face the brutal 鈥榯idal races鈥� of the Pentland Firth in winter we entered the Caledonian Canal to cross to the West Coast. At a small shop halfway through the canal I met Nescafe powdered coffee for the first time. I enjoyed the next leg of the journey for we lay in Oban for several days. Then south to Falmouth.

At first we operated largely out of Dover which after years of shelling by the big guns on the coast of Calais was a desolate place and we tended to spend our 鈥榮hore leave鈥� in Folkestone: but as plans for the invasion of Normandy began to take shape we grew to know the English Channel and other channel ports very well. During the months leading up to D.Day we undertook many and varied duties, one of the most interesting being as AZDIC escort when PLUTO, the 鈥楶ipe Line under the Ocean鈥� was being laid for the purpose of providing a continuous supply of fuel to the invading forces once ashore.

Nearer the day we were fitted with specialised navigation equipment and, with additional crew aboard, sailed under cover of darkness for a point off the coast of Arromanches where we anchored, to act as a guiding beacon for the first ships of the 鈥榠nvasion fleet,鈥� even then leaving English channel ports. Dawn revealed the astonishing sight of serried ranks of ships heaving over the horizon and passing in wave after wave, packed to capacity with soldiers and weaponry. It revealed also seemingly endless flights of aircraft passing overhead to saturate the countryside behind the 鈥榖eaches;鈥� and in full daylight we watched and listened with awe as heavy naval units with famous names hurled salvos of shells at selected targets ashore.

I have often been asked for my impressions and experiences on D.Day and during the days which followed. So often it is the trivia which stays in the mind. I was a pipe smoker and had recently broken mine. I was looking over the side one day when I saw a pipe floating past. Who had lost it and under what circumstances I do not know but after retrieving it I could not bring myself to use it.

My overwhelming impression was of the almost incredible degree of imagination and ingenuity which had been planned into the whole operation. It was evident in almost every experience. Perhaps the first sign was the impressive sight of the slow-moving arrival of the Mulberry Harbour; at first the old cargo vessels which were sunk as 鈥榖lock ships鈥� and then the immense concrete caissons sunk off the open beaches to provide shelter for the invasion force against the raging 鈥榗hannel gales.鈥� and 鈥淢y word!鈥� how they raged.

My second impression of detailed planning was the sight of 鈥榣anding craft鈥� fitted out as floating Bakeries and Kitchens serving fresh bread and meals to the crews of the huge number of small craft without the time or facilities to provide for themselves. I felt that if this degree of attention could be paid to such mundane provision, it must surely be reflected across the entire operation and the war must inevitably be won.

With the invasion of Europe firmly under way we resumed our 鈥榙ogsbody鈥� duties. We pulled a beached landing craft off the Arromanches beach under the cutting tongue of a fierce naval captain, 鈥楻ed Ryder,鈥� who thought Bert was showing lack of drive, whereas he was really trying to preserve my engines which were never intended to serve in a 鈥榯ugboat.鈥� We guided vessels between coasts. We escorted a small convoy in company with a Destroyer through a brutal gale to Cherbourg, only to find on arrival the others had been turned back by the weather, and as the senior Naval Officer was not with us the Americans refused us entry and we had to sit out the gale in the 鈥榦uter roads鈥� where at times I thought the engines would leave their mountings. One night while heading for England we heard an aircraft engine overhead. The craft must have been in trouble because it carried a long tail of fire and fell into the sea. We headed for the spot but found no survivors. It became clear later we must have seen one of the first of the German V1鈥檚, i.e. Flying Bombs.

With the invasion launched and the land action having moved well inland from the Normandy coast our duties varied again. We were attached to a Mine Clearance unit of Fleet Sweepers and after the fall of Dieppe were sent there to see if the channel was clear. I imagine our arrival and return proved something. German 鈥榩ressure mines鈥� were becoming a problem in the shallow Dutch waters and one Spring morning, after a long and bleak Winter the clouds opened and the sun poured down from a deep blue sky while we acted as AZDIC escort to a flotilla of Fleet Mine Sweepers trying to find an answer to the latest bit of horror which allowed perhaps several ships to pass unscathed but the next would activate the 鈥榤ine.鈥� The Sweepers were towing a complex structure which was said to exert the same pressure as a twenty thousand ton ship.

We had cleared Ostend early and were moving slowly across a smooth blue sea about three miles offshore. I happened to be on deck getting a breath of fresh air and taking a series of unofficial photographs of a passing convoy of merchant ships making perhaps ten knots towards Rotterdam. Astern of us a despatch Torpedo Boat was leaving a broad creamy wake across the blue water towards England. Suddenly we were shaken by an explosion. The first glance was towards the Fleet Sweepers. Had they found a 鈥榤ine?鈥� A second explosion turned our attention seawards where the eighth merchantman in the convoy line was burning furiously. Bert, our C.O. obtained rapid permission from the Flotilla Leader to stand by the burning ship. She was quite large, about 15 000 tons carrying a mixed cargo of oil and ammunition. The explosion had caught her amidships which was a blazing inferno. The flames fanned by her continued way through the water left a trail of blazing oil astern.

As we drew near the sight was awesome. The hull plating amidships was white hot and gave an odd impression of transparency while a thin line of flame ran right along the waterline. On deck great gouts of flame and smoke carried the fire astern and a new dimension was added when ammunition began to explode. The only obvious survivors were grouped well forward in the bows. We ran to take them off only to discover two hazards with the curve of the bows forcing us up to the stem where the ship鈥檚 way threatened to push us under. We had to complete the rescue in instalments by holding position momentarily while a man or two dropped on to our deck, then sheering off in a tight circle which brought us back under the bows again. We continued until all still alive had been recovered.

The survivors were handed over to the Flotilla Leader of the Fleet Sweepers where a doctor attended to injuries preparatory to getting them ashore to hospital. The burning tanker eventually grounded on one of the sandbanks which littered those waters where it burned for two or three days before turning into scrap iron. For ourselves we earned a repaint because the port side hull and superstructure were well and truly singed; we were just thankful the wooden hull had not caught fire. Someone must have been pleased because awards of a DSC, a D.S.M. and a Mention in Despatches followed.

All campaigns have their quiet periods and during one such Bert, our C.O. must have been talking with his fellow C.O.鈥檚 in the Flotilla and made a bet that he had the best maintained Engine Room of them all. The fact is that life at sea is not all sound and fury, there are long periods when hands need to be kept busy and in my case I liked to have engines painted silver, fuel and water lines painted distinctive colours and brightwork highly polished; and emery cloth held against a rapidly spinning propeller shaft produces a shining silver shaft. All these things must have been in Bert鈥檚 mind when he issued the challenge, and when the C.O.鈥檚 made their inspection of every ship鈥檚 engine room they admitted defeat when I removed the bilge covers and exposed dry and white-enamelled bilges. Our winnings gave the crew a good run ashore.

And so it went on week after week until the war in Europe was over.

We re-equipped for a long voyage in preparation for sailing to the Far East under our own power and to the war against Japan. Then the Americans could not resist the urge to see if it worked and dropped an 鈥榓tom bomb鈥� on Japan and it did.

Suddenly it was all over leaving a legacy which still haunts us today.

It was all over and HDML 1383 became FDB 84.

We puzzled over the new designation:
Fast Despatch Boat?
Fleet Despatch Boat?

No!

For Disposal Board.

We took HDML 1383 to East India Docks in London, left her alongide the wall and went home.

For years I missed her.

L.C.Gray (KX 160046).

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