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This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Marie on behalf of Ron Walsh and has been added to the site with his permission. Ron fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

I had been on board two naval ships, deserting from one due to inflexible rules, worked for a travelling fair, been to Naval College, sailed to Africa several times in the Merchant Navy, sold meat products for a butchery firm, and been lucky re-joining the navy in having a far sighted and fair Commodore undertake my post desertion trial. Now I was off to war.

I was 'kitted up', given a Mess, and as a trained seaman joined the 'boys' waiting for a draft in the Royal Naval Barracks at Portsmouth, to wherever fate and the Movements Officer wanted me. A new ship was being commissioned and a lot of draft chits were appearing in the messes. One of them was for me so I did not have long to wait. I and several others were to be part of the crew of H.MS. Foylebank. Just three weeks after returning to the RN, a newly redeemed one-time deserter I was back in the picture and in the war wondering what lay ahead.

The day came when all of us drafted to the Foylebank were mustered at a railway siding inside
HMS Victory Barracks. We lugged our bags and hammocks, stowing them in a guards van, sorted out our seats and settled down for the long journey to Belfast shipyard via Stranraer in Scotland. Whilst the ship was fitting out we were allocated our messes on board and gradually settled in.
Originally Foylebank was one of the 'Bank Line' of merchant ships which the navy had taken over for conversion into quite formidable Anti-Aircraft (Ack-Ack) ships. Several of these ships were converted for Harbour Defence and sited at various strategic ports around the country, where they would act as permanent gun platforms until enough shoreside batteries could be constructed.
Others in the line were 'Allanbank' and 'Ladybank' and each was transformed into a Royal Navy warship with mountings of 4 twin 3inch 'ack-ack' guns (A.B.X.Y. Mountings) the A & B being forrard and X&Y down aft. Amidships were port and starboard mountings of multiple 'pom-poms', and port and starboard 0.5 multiple machine guns which amounted to a formidable array of weaponry to deter any attacking aircraft. Also installed was a Type 280 Radar which was very efficient when it came to all round detection of possible enemy aircraft.

One difference in the manning of Foylebank that was most outstanding was that we carried no RN
engine-room staff at all. We had retained all the original Merchant Navy stokers (greasers as they were called in the civilian service) and they all came under the designation ofT124 personnel. The engineer officers were also from the original crew. I think that this had been planned because almost all of our time would either be spent at anchor or anchored at whatever strategic in-harbour site we were designated to go to.

After acceptance and sea trials, which were all satisfactory, we proceeded to sea from Belfast. When we were sufficiently far from shore the Captain cleared lower deck and informed us that he had "opened our sealed orders". These told us that we were to proceed to Portland where we would become the Harbour Defence Ship. As we approached the harbour a mine exploded nearby sending up a huge plume of water. Luckily we suffered no damage to ship or crew.

We passed the breakwater and moored between two buoys about 400 yards from the dockyard stores and other buildings which, except for one trip to sea for a few hours work on the main engines, was where we stayed during the rest of our time there.

The day after our arrival an interesting 'pipe' was made over the ship's tannoy. "Any junior rating having a driving licence, report to the Master -at-Arms." Normally one would observe the unwritten lore to "never volunteer" because more often than not it would turn out to be the visitation of some unwanted trouble of one sort or another. I gave this a lot of thought and decided that it might lead to a 'cushy number' which all matelots are seeking all the time. Casting caution to the four winds I made my way to the Regulating Office and produced my driving licence to the MAA. After a few questions as to my experience he said, "Right then Walsh, as from now you are the engineer and driver of our motor boat. It will be a fill-time job and you will be excused all duties except 'action-stations' and likewise exercises. The boat will have a cox 'n, bow and stern men but you will be responsible for engine maintenance and driving the boat; are you happy with that?"

I replied to the effect that it was not quite what I was expecting but I thought I could cope. He bade me get into the boat and make myself familiar with the engine. "The boats crew are already there鈥�, he added 鈥渟o have a few dummy runs alongside and so forth. " He also told me that our first official run was to take the postman ashore with the mail at 0930 and that the boat would wait for him to return with the incoming mail.

There were plenty of other trips that day and the following ones, each sunset ending with the liberty men being collected at 10.30pm.There was no overnight leave, and weekends were granted only for special requests. From then on a lot of my time was spent in the motor-boat which suited me fine at first because the engine room was enclosed, with a long seat alongside the engine and out of sight of prying eyes. We all began to settle down into our jobs and various routines with numerous 'action stations', 鈥榗ruising stations', and so on thrown in. My cruising station was in the H.A.C.P. (High Angle Control Position) situated under the ships bridge. It was a space of about 15 feet square with a long rectangular table in the centre. All the settings and firing-order set-ups to control all 8 of the high angle 3 inch guns of A.B.X. and Y mountings were there, manned by an Officer and two Leading Seamen, plus a variety of others including S.A.' s, Chefs , and so forth. This was also my 'cruising station'. My 'action station' was Range Setter on the left-hand of X gun mounting at the ship's stern.

As the days passed a feeling of normality settled over the ship with its routines established. Action
Stations were sounded often as German aircraft came over on reconnaissance or mine-laying missions in Weymouth Bay and around Portland Harbour. They would be seen mainly during early evening or heard late at night. We would close up at our guns, our searchlights picking out the enemy. More often than not they would be too low for the searchlights to depress and there was the mole in between.

I could be found, in between all the routines, out in the motor-boat or closed up on X gun. The Germans had several air bases around the Cherbourg area now that they had conquered France and the rest of Europe so they were frequent visitors over England going on bombing trips or coming back from them. Our position was rather vulnerable to say the least with France only 20 minutes flying time away.

In our free moments we would listen to 'Lord Haw Haw', the British traitor who broadcast propaganda for the Germans. His name was William Joyce and when he was captured after the war he was tried and hanged for treason. His task, from his base in Germany, was to demoralise civilians and servicemen alike with his mixture of lies and the truth. He told the world on three occasions that they had sunk the carrier 'Ark Royal '. Most British listeners soon became bored with his monotonous voice and the utter rubbish he spoke and just turned off their radio. However, once he even mentioned our ship and the Admiralty.

On the Foylebank my 'cushy' little number as a driver was becoming a real bone of contention. I had managed to upset the Master-at-Arms quite a lot either by frequently requesting a relief from the job or for someone else to work with me so that I could have a run ashore sometimes like everyone else aboard the ship. There is always a price to pay for any 'good' job or everyone would want to do it, but he promised that he would see what he could do about it. One day he told me he had found the answer, "When you want a run ashore see me and I will arrange a relief
for the motor-boat.鈥� Two days later I did just that and he sent a T124 Engineer Lieutenant who did not appear all that enthusiastic about the idea which, I guess, was understandable. As it happened I only managed two more runs ashore that way then it was back to the old routine which I was not pleased about either. Especially so because an elder brother of mine was on a ship in Portland Harbour at the time.

During one of my shore runs brother John and I went to Weymouth where we were walking when a Navy Patrol car drew up alongside and "Are you from the Foylebank?' was shouted at us. He told me to get back to my ship as she was being bombed. There was obviously no point in rushing but when we did arrive back we could see no sign of enemy activity. I bade my brother farewell and caught the next boat back to the ship where I soon heard that earlier in the evening a German plane had carried out a high-level bombing attack supposedly on Foylebank but had hit Chessil Beach and the Dockyard instead. There was not much damage done to any of the supposed targets apparently. Just a 'tip and run' raider testing the local defences and probably photographing the area at the same time

The next evening most of us were in the forrard mess deck having our supper when over the radio came the voice we had grown to hate, the familiar call sign of "Germany calling, Germany calling (only he said 'Jairmany') if the British Admiralty do not shift that ack ack ship swinging around its buoy in Portland Harbour we will send our Luftwaffe (air force) over there and do it for them!" Lots of laughter from us and a few choice remarks, then the incident was forgotten. Life continued as normal. The following morning, at breakfast time, or thereabouts, the MAA came into the mess deck. "Right Walsh, I have got a relief for you. You've got today and tomorrow to 'gen' him up on the boat driver鈥檚 routine. Take him on your daily runs, then he will takeover from you on Thursday mornings first trip of the day with the postman. You, Walsh, will start off your part-of-ship duties by being cook of the mess. "I put my relief right and he soon got the hang of the job.

The 3rd July (1940), evening, the last run of the day had taken place and I said to my 'oppo' , "OK, then it is all yours now, your first trip will be taking the 'Posty' ashore at 9am so you had best be down at the boat straight after your breakfast, then you are clear of the mess, and take a paper or book with you to read until the boat is called away. "

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