大象传媒

Gil's war(2) The Mulberry Harbour and PLUTO Dec16 03

I was serving my apprenticeship with a small local builder in Hertfordshire at the start of 1943, but sometime during that year I had a bit of a shock when, completely out of the blue, I received a letter from the then all powerful Ministry of Labour 'directing' me to do war work at Tilbury Docks in Essex. I was to take my carpenters tools and report to a firm called Balfour Beatty and a railway warrant was enclosed.

Now my Dad took a very poor view of this and apparently went to see the local Justice of the Peace in an attempt to get his little 17 year old boy off the hook, but with no avail. So few days later I trooped off down to Boxmoor Station, walking the several miles carrying my tools, overalls and a few things to wear. Now I don't think that I had made a train journey on my own before and though I had no trouble getting to the main line station at Euston it took several attempts for me to find my way to Fenchurch Street railway station and then, on the train, down to Tilbury Docks, to start an entirely new way of life. I had to show my papers to gain entry into the Docks and made my way to the site office as instructed but, after a bit of coming and going, they said that they had enough men for the work in hand and told me to go round to the further side of the docks and report to a firm called Flooring Contracts, apparently their subcontractors, at there site office on one of the quays.

On the way I passed by what was obviously a dry dock and in the bottom of this several large reinforced concrete structures were being built, the side reinforcement protruding upwards so it looked like a series of buildings were being constructed. When I got to the Flooring Contracts site I was astonished to see three similar constructions, but with the sides much higher, which were actually floating in the water!
On the quayside there was a hive of activity. Alongside of each of the units was a large scaffold construction, at the bottoms of which lorries were tipping loads of gravel, this then being pushed with bulldozers towards the lifting scoops of pairs of huge concrete mixers where concrete was being mixed, which was then poured into buckets that were being lifted up to the highest level of the units. The concrete was then being poured down chutes and into timber or metal formwork.

I was assigned to a small gang, with an experienced carpenter in charge and our job involved undoing the bolts and other fixings and removing sections of the timber formwork after the previous batch of concrete had hardened off, lifting it up with blocks and pulleys and repositioning and fixing it at the higher level.
The opposite sides were kept at the correct spacing by a series of precast concrete blocks, about 12 inches long and two inches square, which had a hole running up through them. A half an inch diameter bolt was then inserted and the nuts tightened up. I believe that some reinforcement was then dropped down in the space, and some oily liquid (I suppose it was engine sump oil) brushed on to the surface to act as a release agent when the formwork was removed a few days later and soon became accustomed to becoming part of a motley crew of individuals, comprising a few elderly tradesmen one or two lads like myself, and a large number of labourers, mainly from Ireland.

Accommodation (of a sort) had been arranged in advance. Some 10 miles or so to the West was a rifle range at Purfleet which had been vacated by the Army and the arrangement were that, on finishing work each day, we would take the train back to that camp consume the food provided in an Army style, sleep on the camp beds in the huts, have breakfast the and then return to work the same way next day. And that became our routine until the job was completed.

Pressure on us to complete the work on the three units was being increasingly piled on us as the months slipped by and we were pressed into staying and working on site after the end of the normal working day, and then encouraged to work on through the night at double pay, continuing at that rate into the next day if we were willing, till we became exhausted and then took the train back to the camp. In one week I recall one occasion where I worked seven days and five nights and the next time I was home I showed my wage packet to my Father containing the then princely sum of 拢40. I thought he would be pleased but instead he nearly exploded, saying that it was completely wrong for an inexperienced lad like me to be paid so much when he, as a highly skilled carpenter and joiner, was only getting a fraction of that sum.
There were also occasional additional bonuses of cigarettes and the like and, for the first time in my life I began to feel that I was making some headway in the world

At no time did we know what the three hideous 'boats' built entirely of reinforced concrete were to be used for or that they would become part of history as the Mulberry Harbour. We knew that a Second Front was to be opened up in Europe at some time in the future and reasoned that the secret work we were doing was, somehow or another, tied up with the invasion but no one had the faintest idea of what they could be used for in the imminent attack on Europe and of course no one told us the reason for them or their intended use. It was only as the invasion of Europe proceeded when it became clear that our 'boats', sunk in an arc around some of the French beaches to form calm harbours (our forces having no access to any existing ports or harbours for many future month) and so provided protection for the hastily assembled floating jetties which allowed ships to directly unload their precious military cargoes.
The construction of each boat (or caisson as they were eventually known) had started off in a nearby dry dock with formation of a large, punt shaped base with a few large draining valves cast in, the base being some 200 feet long and about 60 feet wide, and the commencement of the erection of 'external' walls, tied together with internal cross walls running from side to side and front to back. The three units had then been floated around to our bit of harbour frontage and it was then left to us to raise the construction up for some forty feet or so. This was done by hauling up and fixing panels of timber shuttering on the at the sides of each individual wall, brushing used car sump oil on the surfaces to act as a release agent, inserting metal reinforcing bars and distance pieces to keep the shuttering sections the correct distance apart then the pouring of concrete to form about a nine inch thick wall when the concrete was poured in.
The shuttering was left in place for several days to allow the concrete to harden sufficiently while we carried on the same operations in other parts of the 'boat', finally returning to that part, taking the shuttering apart and then repeating the sequence.
This work was carried on day and night, ignoring any air raid siren warning until the air became a bit thick with falling anti-aicraft shell fragments or when bombs started falling on the docks. In stark contrast to the universal blackout at nights throughout the country our site Had to be floodlit to enable us to work but the lights were switched off without warning at any time leaving us to sit things out. In any case there were no air raid shelters for us to.

But as time went by, the increasing height and weight of the external 'walls' and the internal cross walls, together with the similar increasing weight of the steel scaffolding being regularly raised, was tending to make the whole thing unstable in the water in so extra water had to be added internally. I assume that the boat must have been connected to the scaffolding on the dock side by the chutes used to pour the concrete down and I recall one day when, apparently due to a higher tide than usual, the boat suddenly broke clear of the scaffolding on one side, lurched a couple of times and seemed almost to be toppling over.

The ballast water in the bottom was a nuisance for whenever we lost grip of any tool, it plunged down to the dark depths below and splashed down into about six feet of turgid, muddy water to lie unseen on the bottom of the 'boat'. As the youngest of our little team, it was then my job to climb down the scaffolding, hook my legs around the lowest member and then 'fish' for the missing item with a couple of long length of timber batten with a nail driven through at one point as to a pivot and to therefore form a crude sort of pincers.
On one occasion when our gang foreman happened to sneeze, both sets of his dentures shot out of his mouth and we all heard the familiar twangs as they struck numerous scaffolding members on the way down, followed by a couple of ominous splashes. Then followed a series of oaths, quite unintelligible really because it's a job to swear properly when you have suddenly lost both sets of your teeth!
It took me hours to locate and pick up the teeth with my tongs, and it was not particularly pleasant either due to the fact that we were now into cold winters days and nights, and the toilets were some distance away along the quay. So it was not really surprisingly, the water in the bottom, was being increasingly polluted with discharges of urine, plus tea and coffee dregs, hundreds of cigarette butts and heaven knows what else.
But my foreman was so delighted at getting his false teeth back, that he immediately stuffed both of them back into his mouth, totally ignoring the recently accrued coatings!

Pressure on us to complete the work on the three units was being increasingly piled on us as the months slipped by and we were pressed into staying and working on site after the end of the normal working day, and then even encouraged to work on through the night at double pay, continuing at that rate into the next day if we were willing, till we became exhausted and then took the train back to the camp. In one week I recall one occasion where I worked seven days and five nights and the next tile I was home I showed my wage packet to my Father containing the then princely sum of 拢40. I thought he would be pleased but instead he nearly exploded, saying that it was completely wrong for a lad like me to have such wealth when he, as a highly skilled carpenter and joiner, was only getting a fraction of that sum.
There were also occasional additional bonuses of cigarettes and the like and, for the first time in my life I began to feel that I was making some headway in the world

The area of the docks in which we were working was crammed with all sorts of smaller ships or boats. One of them was a corvette, painted in a vivid, zigzag black and white camouflage and flying the flag of the Free French. There were also various landing craft and larger vessels were visible in the distance.
Above them all were a large number of barrage balloons, these presumably attached to various ships as they were not of the conventional shape and design. The ordinary barrage balloon looked something like a floppy baggy elephant but those at the docks were apparently smaller, of smooth finish and relatively stream lined. Quite frequently one would break away from its mooring and drift upwards till they eventually exploded and slowly descended in. In one shapeless mass of fabric.

Something more mysterious was also going on an adjacent site, where large semicircular iron sections were being assembled at the water's edge. Starting from that area, a series of metal frameworks with a roller on top were erected, leading past our site and right into the distance for about a quarter of a mile. In one instance at least, where the frames came to a road, a tunnel had been dug under the road it so as to maintain the continuity of the frames.
Stranger still was the regular appearance of the start of a metal pipe, about 3 inches in diameter which travelled along the rollers on top of the frames, stopping for a short while, and then continuing till the front end reached the mystery site. It seems that someone at the other end of the frames, was welding lengths together which were then being rolled down towards the site. The furthermost end was then presumably pulled sideways off of the first frame and the whole length of pipe then progressively slid to the side, the motion eventually causing it to curl up into the air like a huge wave and producing the sound of an express train as it passed through our site before finally crashing down on to the increasing heap of other pipes on the ground.
On land, when the curved iron sections were finally assembled, their shape resembled that of a very large cotton reel and these were then rolled into the water, connected up by a chain or belt to some power source on the land, and the whole drum rotated slowly as the flexible pies were slowly wound on to the each drum in turn.

It was long after the war was over that I learnt that, immediately after the invasion started, the drums were towed across the channel while laying the pipes on the sea bed. Petrol was then pumped through the pies to supply the large amount of fuel needed by the invasion forces. The code name for the project was PLUTO (short for pipe line under the ocean) and it has always surprised me that such a clever invention has apparently never received the acclaim rightly afforded to the Mulberry Harbour. For surely without both, the invasion could have turned into a disaster.

Early in 1944 we had completed building our three boats and anticipated that we might get some more to build, but one Friday evening as I collected my weekly pay packet I was given my calling up papers which required me to report for military service in the Royal Norfolk Regiment at a barracks in Norwich.
I would have much preferred to go into the air force and had requested this when I had had my medical examination in London a few months before, but I suppose that the bulk of forces had already been created and what would now be needed would be reinforcements.
I still recall that the officer at the time tried to pacify me a bit by saying that I could do quite well, as promotion rates were higher in the infantry than in any other branch of the services and I reasoned that it did not take a genius to work out why that should be!

So on the 18th May 1944 I trudged up the hill and reported to Britannia Barracks in Norwich, this followed by a few more weeks in Nelson Barracks down in the town, where I was trained to kill, while trying to avoid being killed in the process.
We were then sent up to Sheringham on the North coast of Norfolk for our final training. There we carried out mock attacks on a group of men, all dressed in German army uniforms, steel helmets and rifles. Strangely enough the local populace seemed to take no notice of this group of 'German soldiers' and one could often see them drinking a pint of beer outside a British pub!
On the last day of training we were taken for a walk along the golf links by the cliff edge where the 'enemy' had concealed themselves. As we walked along they opened up with blank rounds of ammunition, fire crackers to imitate hand grenades and exploding mortar bombs and machine gun bursts into the ground. Then, as we passed each group, they conveniently threw up their hands and fell backwards as if they had been killed.
Up to that time our training, though tough at times, had been carried out with gusto and enthusiasm but, for the very first time I, and everyone else, realised the helplessness of our situation. It so clearly demonstrated that in any attack we were just like lambs being sent to be slaughtered.
We returned to our billets in silence and which, in contrast to the usual noisy affair, continued during our evening meal. Those in charge quickly realised that they had overcooked the situation and a meeting was hastily arranged in an attempt to persuade us that in any such attack, we would be supported by artillery, tanks etc. Once again we had the old tale that for each one of us at the sharp end there were ten men behind supporting us, but this did not cut much ice.

The next day I went home on my embarkation leave quite convinced that I would never return from Europe so immediately started to throw away or give away most of the small amount of papers, photographs and bits and pieces that I had accrued in the little tool shed in the garden, where, due to the family friction in my home, I had spent the most of my spare time. Then it was back to Norfolk, followed by a train journey down to a transit camp in Sunningdale for a night. And then another train journey which, to my utter amazement terminated at Tilbury Docks and to the very same quayside where I had been employed on the Mulberry Harbour.
But gone were all the installations, the water was virtually clear of boats, the only one being a tank landing ship which was taking on a varied collection of vehicles including self propelled guns as well as a motley groups of individuals which included our little detachment.
We set sail shortly afterwards but later on we anchored just off Southend Pier as we had been told that E-boats (German torpedo boats) were operating in the channel and that it would be safer sailing by night.
Now I didn't fancy being down below in a boat that had doors at the front, especially if it was liable to be torpedoed, so I found some space to sleep in the back of a lorry on the top deck.
And there was none of this modern day stuff of a ceremonial departure with hundreds of flag waving cheering well wishers, TV coverage and a military band to boot, for this was real, raw, grim wartime stuff.
The only accompaniment we had was the ship's discordant crackling Tannoy system splurging out the corny music of the era as we sailed off to join the 1st Battalion Royal Norfolk Regiment on active service somewhere in Europe.

Gil Attwood

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