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THE FRANCE & GERMANY CLASP
On Tuesday May 2nd 1944 we sailed from Falmouth at 1500 and reached Plymouth Sound at 1915. Due for a boiler-clean, we de-oiled and disembarked ammunition. It was a pleasant change to view Longroom Signal Station from the water. I signalled to the Wrens that I would honour them with a visit. In Number 4 Basin at 1300, leave was piped to the Starboard Watch. In my off-duty hours during the next ten days I went to the cinema seven times, (once with two American sailors) and saw fourteen films, received and replied to many letters, visited the Gitshams at Oddicombe, and slept twice at the Osborne Sailors' Rest. On the 9th we moored at 7 buoy and ammunitioned ship, and oiled alongside War Bahadur, and next day sailed to Corsand Bay for a deGaussing range test.
On the 13th we sailed with Skate, Waldergrave, and Spragge to accompany a large convoy of landing-ships and landing-craft. Next day we returned to Plymouth, and sailed as Senior Officer with Talybont, Melbreak, and Vidette, bound for Offensive Patrol off the French coast, position 050O North, 002O West, near Dieppe. Being destined to sail close inshore where we might be sunk in shallow water, we had been ordered to disembark all secret and confidential books.
Our mission was to test the defences, to find out what guns the Germans had, and, at our peril, their ranges and accuracy, and how active their E-Boats were, and to keep them puzzled. For the next ten days we endured a most extraordinary existence. During the day we would be apparently at peace, working aboard in harbour, and perhaps going ashore, sipping tea in canteens or sitting in cinemas, but just before dusk we would sail into the Channel and in a few minutes we would be at War, at Action-Stations, hatches battened down and scarcely anyone allowed below for fear of mines, watching our air craft bombing targets inland, and having sharp encounters with E-Boats; and just before dawn we would sail quietly into harbour again as though nothing had happened. Occasionally at the cinema a message would be projected onto the screen requiring All members of the crews of the following ships (indicated by their pennant numbers) to report on board immediately, and a few sailors here and there in the auditorium would quietly leave to go to War.
I used the phrase apparently at peace because that is how it felt to us, but in fact it was apparent to any who would survey the ruined buildings all around us that we were by no means at peace, and all of us had families and friends whom we knew were in the front line at home. The Germans continued to mount air-raids, and had already begun to launch their V1 and V2 weapons, (flying-bombs and super-sonic rockets) at London and other targets in the South. Our people at home could only take cover when the danger seemed to be reaching its peak and shew their courage by carrying on - under the civilians' battle-cry, Business as Usual, (a scrawled notice often seen fixed to what looked at first sight like a pile of rubble, where a shop-keeper could be seen at work tidying-up the mess and displaying salvaged articles for sale), whereas we at least could strike back. When at sea we were able to fire at flying-bombs as they passed over us, though they presented very small and very fast targets.
Perhaps a hint of our feelings on sailing into action may be gleaned from a paragraph in a letter I wrote on May 14th: You must excuse my writing being shaky (this is not apparent) but it is very hot here below decks. Also we are all keyed-up, watching the clock, inflating our lifebelts, some looking at a few photographs, - it is silly the odd things you do in moments like this. We had a good laugh over supper, and are all anxious to go through with the business in hand. In the same letter I complained that our hard-laying money was reduced to 6d per day in Summer, in spite of the fact that we had all the same inconveniences to endure as we had in Winter, plus the extra one of being baked down below in hot weather.
On the 17th we sailed with Tanatside, Wensleydale, (the Fighting Cheese), and Wanderer. On the 18th our action with flotillas of E-Boats was mentioned in the newspapers. On that occasion an E-Boat found itself between two lines of ships, which was rather awkward for everybody. We could not fire on it for fear of hitting each other. They could pepper us with their little guns, but would be obliged to turn in order to attack with their fixed-forward torpedo-tubes, and could not do so for fear of being rammed. Tanatside sunk one, but was slightly damaged herself. On the 19th I saw Sub-Lieutenant (formerly Midshipman) Sandeman in his cabin, and he told me that if I looked lively during the next few weeks I might receive my CW recommendation. On the 22nd we sunk a U-Boat off Land's End. My poem Train describes my post-war thoughts on this subject. We also made one depth-charge and three hedgehog attacks and picked up several dozen huge cod, about 3陆' long.
On the 23rd Wanderer and Skate returned to Plymouth, and Watchman and Scimitar joined Force 30, Senior Officer Fame, with Havelock, Hotspur, Inconstant, Melbreak, and Wensleydale on an ASDIC sweep. As we sailed through narrow channels swept for us between minefields we could clearly see the French lighthouses and light-buoys. We stayed in the area from dawn until noon, and from first light we had fighter-protection - six Spitfires and four Mosquitoes for seven ships. We withdrew from the area at 25 knots, and on the 25th, at Number 1 Buoy, we reported that excessive vibration experienced at speeds above twenty knots was seriously prejudicing our fighting efficiency. This may well have originated from our encounter with the boom at Skaalefjord.
We spent the next five days in harbour, a new Captain coming aboard on the 27th, and sailed on the 31st to escort a convoy to Milford Haven at a tiresome six knots. There were two French cruisers there lying at anchor. We stayed there until June 4th, and were honoured by the arrival of the battleship Nelson. At 1540 on the 5th we sailed to Barry and anchored, and on D-Day, the 6th, sailed at 1300 with eighteen merchantmen for the French coast. Our funnel now carried our Invasion Number - 138. Some merchantmen left us at Falmouth, and nine LST's (Landing-Ships, Tanks) joined us.
At 2000 on the 8th we left our coast at the Isle of Wight and fought the convoy through E-Boat action all night, firing tons of star-shell and H.E. We saw two tankers torpedoed in another convoy. We watched them burn, sending out a ten-mile column of black smoke, then explode and sink. We also saw a Spitfire explode after the pilot had parachuted out. He was picked up by a trawler.
On the 9th we arrived and anchored in a bay, about half a mile from the French coast, between Cherbourg and Le Havre. All the houses ashore lay in ruins, and the ships were still keeping up a bombardment by day and night. Warspite lay further out, and her 16" shells, three at a time, came zooming low over us on their way inland, making a noise like three Underground trains. We saw two ships torpedoed, and three German aircraft shot down in flames. We were roughly North-west of Insigny, which was captured on the 10th. We saw huge squadrons of our bombers flying inland all day, with hundreds of fighters roaring overhead, and we saw a mine explode just in front of a merchantman.
Our night-bombing was spectacular. We would see the Pathfinders dropping flares over their targets, and the bombs crashing down. Owing to the low angles the German flak would appear to rise in slow motion, and we saw three of our bombers come down in flames and blow up.
Just inshore of us an American Destroyer lay at anchor. A ship at anchor, moved by the ebb and flow of tides and by the set of the local current, describes one complete circle around its anchor every 12陆 hours. Tragically, there was a mine with a counter lying there, and she described just one circle too many, and activated the mine. Feeling falsely secure, no doubt her hatches were all open, and she sank immediately. The tide was ebbing, and the debris floated past us. Some bright seamen managed to fish up a wooden crate of plastic hand-grenades, and carried them off in triumph to our Gunnery Officer, but did not receive the reaction they expected. He knew better than to trifle with foreign ammunition of that sort, particularly after immersion in salt water, and briskly told them to throw it back. I picked up a lifebelt, very different from ours, as issued to officers and men alike, in many respects. It was constructed of two inflatable tubes, not one, - they were of tough rubberized canvas, - and they were inflated by the squeezing together of two internal levers which pierced a two metal gas-bottles.
At 1730 on the 12th we sailed with a convoy of twenty. A Lascar seaman called Ali Sim was beaten and thrown overboard from one of them, but Ganilly picked him up, and another dead German. We left the convoy to disperse at Scarborough Light-Vessel and returned to Milford Haven. We were somewhat disgruntled to see the two French cruisers still at anchor there. It seemed to us that we were in the thick of the fighting to liberate their country whilst they were having a holiday. In a letter on the 14th I wrote, I have just learned that I can tell you some news, so here goes. We have just come back from France, which was pretty interesting, and we had a scrap with E-Boats on the way. We anchored off the beaches and were able to watch the big fellers bombarding. I also saw a couple of night-raids, and it was colossal. The Jerry flak was like a huge curtain of fire. It was a great show, and we are all glad we did our bit towards it. In the same letter, discussing post-war possibilities, I wrote, I reckon I would like to be a teacher.
On the 15th we escorted another convoy to Omaha- the American beach-head in the Bay de la Seine. Back at Milford Haven on the 19th we received our new propeller, to cure our vibration troubles, and moored alongside Walker and Volunteer. It was very hot.
On Friday 23rd I saw the First Lieutenant (Lt. Hammick, R.N.) and then the Captain, (Lt.Commander Clark, R.N.V.R.) who said that I would see him again in one month either to be recommended as a CW Candidate or to be turned down. On Midsummer Day, the 24th, we had a new insignia painted on our funnel, - a lion rampant with a star over a crown, and 138. Jimmy ordered me to study the subject of towing, and to expound it to him during the First Dog. He also arranged for me to learn some seamanship, - joining the fo'c'sle-party for anchor-work. We sailed as Senior Officer with Lindsey (a corvette) and two trawlers, Scalpey and Ganilly.
On the 25th a crewman on a Norwegian ship tried to kill himself by cutting the main artery in his wrist. It took our Quack an hour to sew him up, and Scalpey took him into St.Ives and then rejoined us. We turned towards France after passing Buoy A6 off the Isle of Wight, and anchored off the American beach-heads Omaha and Utah, near the base of the Cherbourg Peninsular, then sailed at 1800 for England with thirteen LST's and three Liberty-Ships (10,000-ton welded merchantmen built in the U.S.). I rather fancied trying my hand at steering the ship. I was off watch in the afternoon, and persuaded the Coxswain to call to the bridge, Permission for Signalman Hill to take the wheel, Sir? This request was granted, and I did a trick of forty minutes then, and another half-hour during the Last Dog. It was obvious that the Officer of the Watch would be checking my progress by the compass on the bridge, but there were no complaints. I was not using a compass, but following a green illuminated strip in a rectangular frame. It was the strip which seemed to move left and right, though in fact of course the strip was the constant factor and it was the line down the centre of the glass which represented the ship, but it was easy to drift off and forget, and start turning the wheel the wrong way. I wrote home, I can go no-hands, too!
We were back in Milford Haven on the 29th, and next day MTB (Motor-Torpedo-Boat) 381 came alongside. She carried 1500 gallons of 100-octane petrol, and was reputed to travel at 80 knots (91 M.P.H.) in good conditions. On July 1st Norman's ship, Conqueror, came in and I asked him by semaphore about meeting ashore again, but it was too late that day and they were sailing on the next. At 0400 on the 3rd we sailed with half a convoy to Barry, where at 1230 we were joined by the rest of the eighteen ships. I had been on the Forenoon Watch only ten minutes when I saw Ganilly hit a mine. I remember now Jimmy's words to the Captain, who was on the bridge - 'Ganilly's bought it, Sir!'. To so small and thin-hulled a ship, the striking of a mine was instantly devastating. For a few seconds we could see only the inverted V of her bows above the water, indicating that she had probably encountered an acoustic mine, and then, nothing. The newspaper cutting+ mentions thirty-nine lost, but actually, out of fifty-one on board, forty-seven were lost and there were only four survivors, - the Captain, a Petty-Officer, a Leading Steward, and a Cook. They were found clinging to the roof of their ASDIC cabin. The Captain was particularly distraught because one of his officers was newly-wed on his last leave, and he would have to write to the widow. All the officers were well-known to ours on their runs ashore. We reached France at 1500 and returned with another convoy and two M.L.s. On the 6th we landed the survivors in Plymouth and were then ordered by C-in-C Plymouth to anchor in Penzance Bay, because of mines ahead.

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