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This story was submitted to the People's War site by Chris Comer of Stockport Libraries on behalf of Mrs B Lees, Harold P Lees' widow. It has been added to the site with her permission. She fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Harold joined the RAF in 1940. At the ripe old age of 25 he was told he was probably too old to train as 'Aircrew' so he opted to train as a RAF fitter in the ground crew. Although his knowledge of engines and mechanics was rather limited at the time he managed to pass the interview and was sent off to Blackpool for his basic training.

Sailing for India

After completing his training as a fitter Harold was eventually posted to India, travelling on the SS Vornix which set sail from Liverpool in November heading for India via the Mediterranean.

The sleeping arrangements weren't particularly comfortable. The lucky men like Harold were crammed into narrow bunks too short to accommodate anyone over 5' high and the unlucky ones had to adapt to sleeping in hammocks slung like rows of sausages over the mess tables.

A small problem with a cat

Harold became aware of a particularly loathsome stench coming from under his bunk…

"The trouble was finally located in a few inches of space between the bottom of the bunk and the deck. The ship's cat had been depositing its faeces for days - perhaps weeks. I swore eternal damnation to all feline monstrosities and cleared the muck away. The following morning the pile had been replaced. And the next day also. The blasted cat was working overtime. So I lay in wait and when it came into view I grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and rubbed its nose in it. 'That'll fix the b***d,' I muttered. 'He'll never come back to the scene of his crime.'"

"But he had guts that cat. He came back the next day, and the next and every day. In the end it was all-out war. I decided that the only way to remove the threat to my health and sanity was to take drastic action. By now all the other occupants of the mess were beginning to look in my direction in a strange manner. No use trying to explain that it wasn't me - it was the ship's cat, because nobody knew there was a cat. It never came into view when people were there."

"Grab him, rush him to the side of the ship and fling him over the side when nobody was looking. That was the only solution."

"He was saved by the bell - the alarm bell. The operation was planned for the night the torpedo hit us. I never found out what happened to him but I bet he rushed like hell for the space under my bunk when the first explosion occurred."

"We had what could loosely be referred to as lifeboat drill every morning. We were gathered together on the first day and told what action to take when the alarm sounded which was to be a series of short sharp buzzes over the tannoy system. 'Whatever you are doing,' said the Officer in charge, 'you will stop and make your way as quickly as possible to your mess deck. When you get there you will wait by the side of your bunk for further instructions."

This training was put to the test after Harold's ship developed engine trouble shortly after entering the Mediterranean through the Straits of Gibraltar. It fell further and further behind the flotilla with its destroyer escorts, leaving it exposed to enemy attack.

Torpedo strike

"The lounge was crowded when the alarm sounded. We ran like hell. We got to the mess and tied on our life belts and stood by the bunks with throbbing hearts and bated breath. We waited for the worst to happen... It was eerie standing in semi-darkness not knowing what was going on. We hadn't heard any unusual noises like gunfire or explosions. The tannoy system (for once) was silent... Someone ventured to ask what the hell as going on. It was a mistake because he was greeted with 'We're sinking mate, that's what's going on.'"

"I dredged up from my unconsciousness the precise instructions we had been given for emergencies: 'You will dress in full blue uniform. You will take your haversack and fill it with washing and shaving kit and a change of underwear. You will wear greatcoats and boots.' RAF greatcoats are thick, heavy and bulky. Saturated with sea water and fastened tightly to your body by the tapes of your lifejacket they would probably act as a heavy sodden weight trying to drag you to the bottom of the sea. Thick heavy boots filled with water would complete the operation."

After discussing the pros and cons, Harold and his companions agreed to opt for going lightly dressed in their tropical kit and gym shoes. They realised they would probably end up in the water as the ship's normal complement of lifeboats would not be sufficient for all the troops that it had crammed on board.

"We heard the torpedo strike. It sounded like a distant dull thud. We did however feel the ship give a violent shudder and then it seemed to recover. Suddenly the ship began to list and somebody else yelled, 'Near miss be buggered. We've been hit. We're sinking!'"

"The ship continued to list until it felt as though it had reached an angle of 45 degrees. We had to grab hold of our bunks and we hung there like a troop of performing monkeys. Throughout all this the tannoy that had driven us to distraction during the voyage was on strike… After the last spasm of shudders somebody shouted, 'I'm buggered if I'm staying here'. He made a rush for the doorway, which opened on a corridor which lead to the stairs which gave access to the open deck. So everybody else made a concerted rush for the doorway... We ended up a heaving, striving, thrusting mob surging around the opening."

They finally made their way onto the deck where they were greeted by a scene of complete chaos. They gathered around a self-launching life raft which, when a pin securing it to the deck was knocked out, would slide down runners into the water. A squadron leader took charge and struck out the retaining pin.

Life rafts

"With a woosh the raft ran down the runners. It disappeared over the side of the ship and launched itself into the water in a giant swallow dive. After that we never saw it again. What was supposed to be a self-launching raft had turned into a self-destroying raft... What was more likely was that it had submerged and then surfaced well away from the ship. In retrospect one surmised that it should have had a rope attached to it to fasten it to the side of the ship. We didn't know that. We were landlubbers."

They remained on deck for a long time as the ship seemed in no immediate danger of sinking, debating what they should do next. There did not seem to be much evidence of an organised evacuation.

"Somebody noticed a rope ladder coiled up at the side of the deck. It seemed the sensible thing to do to sling it over the side. This time we made sure that our end was secured before we let it go. A volunteer climbed over the side and descended rung by rung into the murky gloom. He vanished and we never saw him again. Later we found out what had happened. When he got to the bottom there was a lifeboat conveniently near so he leapt into it and made himself comfortable."

Unaware of what had happened to him, the indecision continued. During the wait one of the group found a packet of contraceptives and made a neat profit selling them off to his mates as waterproof containers for their watches!

"Suddenly there was a loud yell from somebody standing near the side of the ship. He pointed down, 'Look!' he shouted, 'It's a lifeboat!'. The Squadron Leader became activated again. He organised a flow of bodies over the side and down the ladder. When my turn came I scrambled over the side with trepidation. The ladder swayed like the tail end of an angry donkey. It was a long way down. It felt like several hundred feet. Suddenly my searching foot met no resistance when I pushed it down. There was nothing there - no more rope ladder, no sea, no lifeboat, just space. There was nothing there one second and the next, with a whoosh, there was a lifeboat. Then suddenly there wasn't - the space was void again."

"The sea was rough. One minute the lifeboat was there, looking life-sized and inviting, the next it was hundreds of miles below looking like a matchbox. The solution was offered by a hefty-looking bloke in sailor's gear. He was standing inside the lifeboat almost side by side with me. He yelled 'Next t-i-m-e!' In a few seconds he was back and yelled something like 'Leggo!' So I leggo! I felt as thought I was falling through yards and yards of space before I hit something solid. The seaman took hold of me with two grips - one at the top and one at the bottom, and flung me to the side of the boat."

When the boat was full they slowly and painfully pulled away from the sinking ship so it didn't pull them down with it. After a while a rescue ship came into view.

Rescued

"The rescue ship drew nearer until eventually we were alongside. There was an opening in the side of the ship. The lifeboat was rising and falling with the heavy swell. One minute the door was there, just feet away with bodies hanging out with outstretched hands. The next minute it seemed hundreds of feet above us with midgets hanging out of a tiny window. When the opening was reasonably level with the boat and you heard the seaman shout, you hurled yourself forward towards where you hoped the hole would be when you landed. You realised of course that if you missed you would end up in the sea and probably get battered to pieces between the boat and the ship. It was a sort of desperation that made Olympic long jumpers out of us all."

"When you landed, half a dozen tentacles grabbed various parts of your anatomy without any regard for decorum or niceties. We were dragged aboard feeling like bedraggled lumps of wet clay. Now kind hands took charge. They belonged to young army officers. They helped you to your feet and muttered soothing words. 'You're all right now. Take it easy son. You can relax now mate.'"

Harold and his surviving comrades were put ashore at Philipville in North Africa whilst the military authorities made plans for their eventual transfer to India. He never did find out what happened to the ship's cat but presumed it had gone down with the ship.

This story is an extract from a manuscript called 'Laugh I nearly died' written by Harold P Lees about his wartime experiences in the RAF. It has been reproduced with the permission of his widow, Mrs B Lees.

Harold P Lees' War, Part 2: The health hazards of India

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