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WAR EXPERIENCES by Alan S. Marrs

From a letter to his parents in Argentina
dated 6th August 1945

FOREWORD by Colin Marrs

My mother took this down in shorthand at the time. My father's family were British and had lived in Argentina for many years. He came over to join the RNVR at the outbreak of war, as his father did in the Great War.

SUMMING UP

On the whole things have been quite adventurous and I am glad I have seen what I have, but believe me I have had enough and I would not like to go through it all again.

WELCOME TO ENGLAND - TRAINING

I joined on December 28th 1939, and reported at a training establishment at Skegness in Lincolnshire where I was kitted out and given a rudimentary idea of what was coming to me in the way of real training when I got to barracks. They were very good 鈥榖ods鈥� and mothered us in every way. The only snag being that it was the coldest winter for I don鈥檛 know how long and we were living in little ply-board huts on the sea-shore! I discovered here that two planks do not keep you very warm in 5 feet of snow.

However I was lucky in only getting a severe cold where others were pegging out with pneumonia in their dozens. By the time I was out of sick bay the class I belonged to was just about two days off being drafted to barracks and I was luckily allowed to join them.

Thus on the 2nd February 1940 I found myself in Devonport barracks and was there until April 1st of the same year. Here the life was tough and the instruction we got left a lot to be desired, we just got buffeted around from pillar to post. This was no doubt due to over-crowding and trying to get you to pick up two years training in two months. Anyway, I got what I wanted when I left. That was to join a Destroyer, and so on 1st April I boarded HMS Whitehall in Plymouth.

A BRIEF HONEYMOON PERIOD AND ON TO DUNKIRK

From that day and until the commencement of Dunkirk we ran convoys from Dover through the English Channel and for some distance into the Atlantic. It was now beautiful weather and life could not have been pleasanter. There were only two 鈥榟ostilities only鈥� seamen on board and they were myself and another chap called Allsbrook who was a public schoolboy and my pal through the eventful days that followed.

The remainder of the ship鈥檚 company were all Royal Fleet Reserve and in consequence all fairly old. They were a first class bunch of fellows and taught us more in one day than any training establishment could in a month. Of course we got both sides of how to do things from them 鈥� how to dodge work and how to do it if you had to! They were very smart at both.

Our peaceful cruising ended rather abruptly when one day in the latter part of May we were told to return, to leave our convoy some distance out in the Atlantic and proceed to Devonport for fuel at maximum speed. We arrived there one night at about 2 am, fuelled and dashed out again with further orders to report to Dover. None of us knew what for and even the best of rumour mongers were puzzled.

Anyway we cracked on through the Channel all that day and arrived at Dover in the darkness 鈥� when we were ordered to Dunkirk.

Even now we were a bit mystified but by the time dawn broke we realized only too well what our job was to be.

We were ploughing through bodies of soldiers from ships that had been sunk and the whole of the coastline was a mass of flame and billows of black smoke. The beaches were black with troops waiting to be taken off, and we had to wait our turn with other craft to get close to the jetty and take our share. This was about 1200 men per trip. We did an average of two trips per day from the Tuesday to the Friday and it was just like hell let loose the whole time. I never slept or sat down to a meal the whole time.

We could not even get respite in Dover between trips as all our time was taken up in re-loading ammunition which we banged away to the last in Dunkirk, this entirely at aircraft. We were firing so low at times that we seemed to be firing at other ships/the beach.

During these four days we were only personally picked out as a target once (Thank God) and here I really thought my time was up. We were lying off the harbour when three dive bombers appeared. The first two went to the other two Destroyers and then we had to watch the other blighter come for us. He was painted a horrid black and had fins fitted to the fuselage so that when he dived he came down with a deafening scream, and at the same time he machine-gunned us. Then out came the bombs, also fitted with fins and screaming louder as they came nearer. There were three of them altogether, one heavy and two light and all (Thank God once more) missed us. The heavy landed on the port side and the others on the starboard. Our total damage, apart from the discomfort suffered by all, was a few burst gauges in the engine room and two scores on deck where a couple of machine gun bullets had glanced off. After this good fortune, we were all convinced that our ship was truly a lucky one and hoped that her good luck would keep us safe.

NOT OVER YET

By the Friday all the troops that could be got away had been brought to safety. We rejoiced and were thankful to have come out OK, and were about to settle down to a good night鈥檚 sleep when we had sudden orders to go over again, this time to endeavour to bring back the survivors of two other Destroyers which had not returned.

I think we were chosen as we were practically a total loss as it was, as we had a large hole in us as a result of a collision, and a damaged boiler for good measure. Too much steaming for the old girl!

And so the Saturday found us once again in the proximity of Dunkirk. We found one Destroyer wrecked and picked up her survivors, and were running the gauntlet to the next one under violent fire from the beaches now under new ownership, when we were thankfully recalled to Dover.

That same afternoon whilst we were lying alongside the quay this second Destroyer returned under her own power 鈥� how she did it defeats me. She looked like a pepper-pot with all the bullet holes and her sides were covered in blood from the 1000 or so soldiers she was endeavouring to bring back. Apparently she got trapped in Dunkirk harbour on the Friday and had had to blast her way out 鈥� Jerry had not exactly been dormant with his guns meanwhile.

After they had succeeded in getting out on the Saturday they were mercilessly machine-gunned by aircraft most of the way back. The sight on the deck of this ship as she lay alongside us that evening was enough to upset most. In fact this is indeed what happened when the young RAMC stretcher bearers arrived on the scene 鈥� they just fainted like so many flies. I think most of them had only been given their uniforms that morning, poor chaps.

Our 1st Lieutenant then dragged us all out for a final effort and we proceeded to give them a hand with the stretchers. My pal Allsbrook and I shared a stretcher and removed a fair number of casualties but our ardour was soon upset when we approached a young lad of not more than 19 or 20. He was sitting on the deck and looked fairly pale but nevertheless quite cheerful. When we said we were going to move him he asked for a cigarette and a drink first. This we gave him in the form of cocoa and a Players or something. He drank the cocoa and smoked half the fag and then said 鈥極K let鈥檚 go鈥�. We removed the blanket from his waist and proceeded to lift him on to the stretcher 鈥� at which moment he died in our arms. Apart from the wounds we had seen across his thighs he apparently had another set across his back and in lifting him his spine just parted.

We got a doctor on the scene fairly soon but he said that nothing could have been done for him and that it was best that way. We were quite blameless but you can imagine how we felt.
We intended to continue but when it became obvious that a stretcher was no use for what remained we gave up.

During preceding days I had acquired a billy can of cognac from a French soldier. This I unearthed from the depths of my hammock and proceeded to drain down my throat. When I awoke we were well on our way to Plymouth for a re-fit and plenty of leave.

AN OFFICER ON HMS ARIGUANI

This was the last I was to see of HMS Whitehall as after I had my leave I came back to find I was to proceed right away to Portsmouth to see an Admiralty Selection Board for a commission. This I passed OK and went straight away down to Brighton where the Training College was (HMS King Alfred).

I received my commission on the 4th October and went to my first ship as an Officer on October 22nd. This was in Avonmouth (nr Bristol) and was an armed merchant cruiser by the name of Ariguani. She was one of Elder and Fyffes banana ships which ran to Jamaica in peace time.

However, they had not finished unloading their bananas let alone start to convert her. Eventually we sailed from Bristol about mid-March. We were based on Belfast and 鈥榥aturally鈥� had to arrive there in time to enjoy their plastering from jerry.

Rather than an AMC we were an experimental ship. We were the first to try out the aircraft catapult. Also we tried out all manner of radar sets. We used to get halfway across the Atlantic with one convoy and back with another. Whenever jerry planes appeared we would send up our fighter. We had quite a few picnics with the blighters before we were eventually torpedoed on a return trip from Gibraltar.

The ship received two hits but luckily they were both aft and she didn鈥檛 sink. However, we went to 鈥榓bandon ship鈥� stations and actually did abandon her. At daybreak though a skeleton crew put back to her and after a week she arrived in Gibraltar safely in tow.

MOVING ON
The remainder of us went aboard a destroyer and were taken straight back to Gib. During this passage I acted on the Captain鈥檚 behalf in the interrogation of some 52 Italian survivors from a U-boat they had on board. This was quite amusing and I felt well pleased with my effort though it later proved that I learnt nothing very much over what the authorities knew already.

During my one month鈥檚 stay in Gibraltar I spent the first week living aboard HMS Nelson, as did most of the other survivors from my late ship. We were very well received and had a wonderful week with the 鈥榖ig ship鈥� boys.
From here I was returned to England in a Corvette at the end of November to take up some flying training in the Fleet Air Arm.

It was this crossing that caused me to write and tell you to remind me of an episode in the Atlantic. The convoy we went across with consisted almost entirely of iron ore ships and we were stationed as 鈥榯ail end Charley鈥�. It was this convoy that got such a write-up in the papers. We sank 3 U-boats and shot down 2 aircraft. The ship I was in did not get credit for any of these but from our rather unfortunate station we came in for all the dirty work of picking up survivors. The ones we got were all from the Merchant ships which had been torpedoed prior to us getting the upper hand.
It was here that 鈥榶ours truly鈥� became a bit of a surgeon and sewed up a 4 inch wound in a bloke鈥檚 leg. It was all done properly with a surgical needle and gut and even if I say so myself it was a jolly neat job. The bloke did not peg out before we got to harbour either.

One thing I am sure of is that I never want to hear men screaming for their lives in the middle of the Atlantic on a pitch black night again. God, it gives me the creeps just thinking of it.

Sometime in February 1942 I embarked on my very short-lived experience in the Fleet Air Arm. For this I had to go to a RAF elementary flying training school. The chief flying instructor was a louse and I practically told him so. This is not always the best sort of footing to learn anything and he was determined to have me out on the grounds of bad flying and unsuitability 鈥� I saved him the bother by blacking out whilst doing aerobatics and therefore came out on medical grounds which is much more honourable.
From here, after about 6 weeks leave, I went to Scotland and trained for coastal forces.

What eventually put paid to me though was too much sea time and a few near misses. I was on the verge of a breakdown and was sent home.
After a spell at home with some decent food and no high speed engines whizzing in my head I soon recovered.

TAKING COMMAND

My next move was to pastures new 鈥� this time to trawlers and so it was that I came to join HMS Cape Mariato in Liverpool on March 15th 1944. I had two trips to Iceland in this ship as 2nd Lieutenant and then cracked up with tummy trouble and had a month in hospital. Then I returned to the same base and joined HMS Coldstream 鈥� a brand new ship. I joined her as 1st Lieutenant (second in command). I had two trips to St Johns, Newfoundland in her and at least 6 trips to Iceland as well as a few jobs around the coast of the British Isles.
She was a grand ship and I enjoyed every moment of my time aboard her (July 鈥�44 to April 鈥�45). When I left her to join my own command (HMS Viz???) the Captain gave me a certificate in which he said 鈥渉e has served in this ship as First Lieutenant at times under difficult and trying circumstances and has shown himself to be a keen organiser and capable handler of men. An officer of outstanding merit鈥�. I do not think any of this can be true but it is nice to think that people consider you so.

I joined my own ship on April 27th 1945. She was a lovely ship and I felt that I had at last achieved something and that we were going to do big things together. We did not however, as the War packed up on the 8th May and after one more trip to Iceland I had to take her round to Newcastle and pay her off. During the last operational trip we were just making our way down the Irish sea when our anti-submarine equipment detected a possible submarine. I was the only escort to a small convoy of 4 ships at the time and so had it all to myself. I attacked with depth charges about 4 times without any result, worse luck, and in the end had to hand it over to someone else and dash off back to my convoy.
I was disappointed as it would have been good to get a sub just then.

These were grand ships. Their tonnage was, on average, about 800 gross and about 195 feet in length. The best sea boats on God鈥檚 earth bar none and believe me I have seen them in bad weather. I was hove to in Coldstream once for 48 hours. We crashed into it at half speed and at the end of the 48 hours we had travelled 100 miles in the opposite direction, but other than a few wet clothes we suffered nothing.

ALL OVER

I have been at home now since July 3rd and though I look upon some of my experiences with happiness it all seems distant. I did all there was to be done and could not have had a more fitting finish than my own command and the knowledge that I did it satisfactorily as testified in Capt of Base鈥檚 certificate on my conduct in which he says 鈥� A competent and efficient Commanding Officer who ever maintained his ship at the highest level鈥�.

Since I started this account VJ day has come and also I have been to the Admiralty and understand that I shall be doing some shore job until demobilization.

POST-WAR

It was to be nearly 60 years before I found this account, after the death of my mother. I believe my father was profoundly affected by the war. He disappeared in 1951, and although he exchanged a few letters some years later with my mother (concerning divorce), we never saw him again. CM

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