大象传媒

H.M.S. EAGLE - 11th August 1942 - 13:15hrs

I was standing in the shade of No1starboard 6" gun, fifty feet above the waterline. The Eagle shuddered with 4 distinct lurches, and for some crazy reason I thought we had hit a school of whales! The deck tilted under my feet and to my astonishment I saw a pair of sea boots flying through the air and disappear over board. These were followed by other pieces of debris, and as the ship began to list I realised that we were in serious trouble. Loose fittings began to clatter around. Frightened voices shouted and men began to stream up from the lower decks to reach higher positions. Bodies were already floundering in the water below and the wake of the Eagle had developed a distinct curve as the vessel pulled out of line.

The rhythmic throb of the main engines died away and the ship slewed further around, rapidly heeling over. Looking over the side I was amazed to see that the green slimed bulge of the torpedo blister was above the surface of the water. (Designed to withstand a pressure of 750lbs per square inch, the torpedo blister was supposed to deflect the force of underwater explosions and preserve the hull of the ship.) I never did hear the order to abandon ship, but when I saw marines jumping from the flight deck, hurtling past the gun deck and hitting the rising torpedo blister as the ship keeled over; I really did begin to get worried. Less than 2 minutes had passed and the marines that had smashed themselves to jelly when they jumped had already slithered away leaving behind a blood-streaked trail of slime. I clambered through the rails and suddenly I found myself on the torpedo blister. Two ratings were already there 鈥� terrified 鈥� they could not swim. An officer slid between the two ratings and shouted; 鈥淣ow is the time to learn鈥�, and with a rating clutched beneath each arm he leapt into the sea. I never saw them again.

Taking a deep breath I blew up my inflatable lifebelt, which was a permanent part of our dress when we were afloat. Remembering survival lectures, I hurriedly kicked off my deck shoes, pushed myself away and before I could think I was upside down 20 feet below the water and frantically holding my breath whilst I looked around for a lighter colour in my surroundings that would indicate the surface. The next few seconds seemed like a lifetime and as I broke through to the surface my throat and chest seemed to explode with relief. When I was able to think I heard someone shouting 鈥渄epth charges!鈥� Oh my God鈥� I thought, 鈥渢he depth charges for the aircraft, were they primed?鈥�

My horizon from wave level was limited. Eagle was just a smudge in my vision 鈥� then she was gone! My throat filled with bile and as I looked around my small watery world I saw other frightened faces and I did not feel quite so lonely. Swim away from the ship, depth charges, suction, the boilers will explode. All these things went through my brain - but where was the ship? Which was the way to swim?

Swim! Swim! Swim!

The sea suddenly boiled: an unbelievable crushing pressure stunned my senses, and I spun round in the water like a toy. When I could think again I was once more in my own little watery world. Something bumped into me from behind: it was 'Stripey' the 12 year service man who was 鈥楾he Daddy' of our mess deck 鈥� but something was wrong. His face was discoloured, his eyes staring, and he was flopping uncontrollably in the water. I grabbed for him and my clutch slithered down his torso and suddenly there was nothing but mush! From the waist down he was just offal - sliced in half - and gone. Panic stricken I pushed him away and felt my stomach churning uncontrollably. We drifted apart.

A ten feet length of timber came within my view and I kicked out for it and thankfully draped myself across its support. My relief was pathetic!! A Cariey float drifted close, it was filled to overflowing, but it was human companionship. I abandoned my length of timber and struck out for the float. As quickly as I swam the float was carried away more quickly and again I found myself alone. Some time afterwards I saw another struggling figure in the water and made contact with him. He was weak and in great difficulty. I swam behind him and took him in my arms. Holding his head above the water and tried to talk to him. His overalls were greasy and the buttons clogged. I was not able to get to his identity tags but I realised he was one of the 'black gang' (an engineer). Gradually his struggles ceased, and I wondered how badly he might have been injured. Clinging to him and trying to encourage him to make an effort we drifted away together. Time seemed to stand still and had no meaning. Gradually I became aware that his struggles had stopped. I looked into his face, his eyes were rolled back so that just the whites were showing, his mouth hung slackly open rimmed with green froth and as the sea washed over his face he made no move to protect himself. I would not believe that he too was dead. If we could be picked up now there might still be time for him鈥�

Swim!! Kick!! Breathe!!

The actions became automatic. Look for the sun! What is its angle? How long have we been together? My own clothing was waterlogged. I would not strip off my overalls because of the terrible stinging wounds that could be inflicted by jellyfish. Eventually I reached over and released the valve on his lifebelt. I thought; 鈥淗e is dead now. If he can sink at least the seagulls could not peck out his eyes鈥�.

Once again I was alone, and once again a spar of drifting wood saved me. Suddenly there was a second spar!! How I managed I do not know, but I heard my own voice laughing and shouting: a spar was under each arm, crossed like a great VEE in front of me, and I was laid between the two spars kicking my legs up and down and plunging forward 鈥� to nowhere!!! How long? It did not matter! Just plunge along and when you are too tired just lie between the two spars and sleep until you cannot wake. I suddenly remembered my childhood days when we would shape a scrap of cardboard, cut a nick in the end, insert a crumb of camphor, lower it onto the water in a wash bowl and watch it scud around like a water beetle. My eyes were sore with the salt water, and I laid my head on my arms, my legs dragged behind me, and I gradually began to slip away with exhaustion.

Voices!!

It was only a dream!

Voices again?

I looked up. There were other people in the water!! They were all looking in the same direction and waving. What was it? Another Cariey float? A lifeboat perhaps? No it could not be a lifeboat; everything had happened too fast. No one would have had time to even think about lowering a boat. Perhaps it was one of the cork survival nets? When I could focus again I saw a small ship. It was almost stopped, scrambling nets were over the side and willing hands were pulling in the survivors. Stimulated into action I began to propel my two spars towards the ship; I tried to steer towards the bows of the ship, and when I thought the time was right I abandoned the two spars and weakly swam towards the ship's side. One rope went past, a scrambling net went past, and I tried to swim more quickly. I was almost exhausted, the weight of my water soaked clothes dragging me back and under 鈥� it was all in vain 鈥� I was going to be left behind.

A rope was thrown from somewhere amidships 鈥� the ship was slowly moving forward: slow as it was the rope screamed through my hands as I grabbed. Frantically I hung on and was swung along. I was almost into the rudder before I realised that I had a slim chance. Hand over hand against the force of the moving ship I dragged myself forward. Suddenly I was almost straight up and down and tears of frustration filled my eyes as I realised that I had no strength to haul myself up the ship's side. There were encouraging shouts from the ship. I passed a loop of rope over my shoulders and around my waist and suddenly I was being hoisted out of the water. Like a hooked fish I was hoisted over the rails, uncoiled from the rope and roughly pushed to one side. Half carried, half dragged; I was thrown amongst a heap of coughing, retching, vomiting humanity. How it happened I do not know, but suddenly someone pushed a mug into my hands and said 鈥淕ulp this down at one swig 鈥� it will get rid of the oil in your guts鈥�. A mug of neat Navy rum is a powerful purgative and soon I wished that I were back in the comparative peace of the water.

This little ship was the tug 'JAUNTY' Assurance class. Built in Cochrane's shipyard on the Ouse at Selby close to Hull. Built to Admiralty specifications her pennant number was W30. Armed with one obsolete 12-pounder gun (circa 1912) and a couple of unofficial single barrelled Oerlikons she almost capsized with the weight of survivors clinging to her upper works. One observer said' I couldn't see the ship 鈥� just a mass of bodies'. This plucky little ship later rejoined the convoy and was credited with shooting down a German Junkers 88.

Overcome with weakness after vomiting up the contents of my stomach I slumped down amongst some of the other wretched survivors; smothered in oil, blood, vomit, human excreta totally unaware of my condition or whereabouts. Buckets or sea water were sloshed over us, and we gradually became aware that we were required to move. A destroyer loomed over the little tug, scrambling nets draping her sides and the half conscious survivors were harried, bullied, cajoled and persuaded to scramble as best they could from the tug to the destroyer. How many fell into the sea between the two vessels I shall never know. I found a clear space on the 'iron deck' amidships and again slumped in semi consciousness. The heat from the deck penetrated my overalls and seared the skin from my legs. From that day to this my legs have been as hairless as an adolescent virgin.

It was night-time before I really recovered and the destroyer 'Laforey' and a second destroyer the 'Lookout' was returning to Gibraltar. During the night, the survivors were shocked into wakefulness by a tremendous crashing sound, followed by cries of wild confusion. In my half dazed condition I thought we had been torpedoed again. Daylight revealed a unique situation. A subsidiary operation had taken place secondary to Pedestal, in which the aircraft carrier Furious was able to fly off 32 Spitfires for Malta. Furious was escorted by the 2 destroyers 'Wolverine' and 'Keppel'. After flying off her Spitfires, the 3 ships turned and started back to Gibraltar. During the night the Wolverine contacted an Italian submarine on the surface. It was the Dagubar believed to be recharging her depleted batteries and was unable to submerge. Wolverine rammed and sank the submarine and there were no survivors. Wolverine's bows were badly damaged and she was unable to fulfil her function as an escort and was left behind as Furious and Keppel surged ahead. Our little group - Laforey and Lookout - overtook the disabled Wolverine, and Lookout sped ahead to escort the Furious. Meanwhile Laforey took on the 'sheepdog' duty of ever circling the damaged Wolverine until we reached the safety of Gibraltar. Before dawn, as the Pedestal convoy surged eastwards, a second Italian submarine, the Cobalto, was attacked by two destroyers - Pathfinder and Zetland. The submarine surfaced in a damaged condition and was rammed and sunk by a third destroyer, the Ithuriel. The C.O. of the Ithuriel was reprimanded for hazarding his vessel. It was considered that the submarine could have been dispatched by gunfire. At Gibraltar I was given 24 hours to clean the clothing I was wearing, clean myself of oil, slime, blood and filth, draw a minimum of essential replacement clothing - in my case just a pair of deck shoes - pass the medical officer (if we could breathe we were declared FIT FOR DUTY) - report to Administration and be assigned to new duties. The crew of the Eagle no longer existed. 72 hours after being hit by Helmut Rosenbaums four torpedoes, which had been so skilfully discharged by Heinz Matejke (a man who was later to become a close friend) I was hard at work in the old faithful carrier 'Argus'.

Damaged aircraft which needed major repairs were being shipped back to England and I was to make my way back, working to salvage as much as was possible. Somehow or other during our first night back in England word had got around that we were from the sunken Eagle. After that the booze flowed like water and the locals were reluctant to let us return to our billets until they could see booze spouting out of our ears. Some of the lads were still 'half cut' next day on our rail journey down to Lee-On-Solent. Nevertheless 'flight deck' yarns were related with gusto.
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Transcribed by A. Brigham - www.hullwebs.co.uk

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