大象传媒

The following story by Terence Robertson is out of copyright and appears courtesy of and with thanks to Mike Kemble, and Captain Frederic John Walker.

The striking force swept into the Atlantic with the sloops drawn up in line abreast ahead of the aircraft-carrier which zigzagged independently a mile astern. On October 19th, they ran into filthy weather, driving wind, rain, hail and sleet, high turbulent seas, and a menacing roller-coaster swell which tossed the smaller ships about until all movement on their decks had to be stopped. This meant that those aft stayed there and those forward handled the bridge and gun watches without relief. The sky was black with heavy, rain-laden cloud racing low across the water reducing visibility to less than a mile. Life in Starling was wretched; men drenched by spray and rain went below to the mess decks only to find cracked rivets letting in thin drips of water over their bunks and mess tables. Walker鈥檚 own cabin below the bridge became a swilling mess of dirty water as bulkheads sprung leaks round his bunk and in the dockhead. The plating of the quarter deck cracked, and a large gap let water flow freely into the Wardroom while the whole stern began to quiver and move about independently of the rest of the ship, like a dog wagging its tail, threatening serious damage to the propeller shafts. In the gloom of dawn next day Walker ordered speed for the force to be reduced to eight knots. Behind the sloops, Tracker wallowed and heaved like a huge elephant in agony. Her damage repaired, Kite rejoined, having battled against the storm to catch up and in so doing suffered more than had been inflicted by the tug. Midday was more like midnight, and dusk as black as the inside of a bat, but early on the 22nd the storm seemed to be ending and the Commander-in-Chief, Western Approaches, ordered Walker to alter course to support the west-bound convoy ON 207, already under close escort and supported by Commander Gretton鈥檚 famous B7 Group in company with the aircraft-carrier, Biter. On arrival, Walker was to assume overall command of all escorts. In this one signal, Walker was given an Admiral鈥檚 responsibility, without an Admiral鈥檚 staff to share the burden of minute detail. By evening, contact was made and, after placing the two carriers inside the convoy (he was not taking the chance of having another Audacity tragedy on his hands), he sent B7 Group fifty miles out on the convoy鈥檚 starboard bow and placed himself the same distance off the port bow. With eighteen warships, including the carriers, under his command there was neither rest nor sleep for Walker. Every signal passing between convoy, escort, support groups, Liverpool, London and Newfoundland was repeated to him in case he should think it necessary to intervene. In those rare moments when he could stagger down to his bunk for a brief restless hour lying fully-dressed in soaked clothes, water seeped in through leaks, forming puddles in the blankets. On the 25th the weather subsided to an angry simmer and, now that ON 207 was through the danger area, Walker collected Tracker and broke off to continue his striking-force hunt. For the next three days, the ships marched and counter-marched through the 鈥淐hop鈥� Line in fruitless sweeps backed up by air patrols launched by the carrier, but they found no evidence that there was such a thing as a U-boat in the Atlantic. At one time, while the weather was hardly suitable for flying but not really bad enough to prevent it, Tracker had four aircraft on patrol. They returned in formation and the sloops closed the carrier to act as rescue ships should any of the planes overshoot the flight deck or get into trouble some other way. Tracker was rolling heavily and landing would not be easy. The first aircraft came down, made a beautiful approach and dropped to the deck, but the deck wasn鈥檛 there. Tracker fell into a deep valley of water and the pilot found himself flying when his wheels should have touched down. He overshot the landing wires, hit the deck well for鈥檃rd as Tracker came up on another wave and then bounced over the side to crash into the sea. Simultaneously, the sloops raced to rescue the air crew.
Tracker stopped to try and lower a lifeboat and began drifting rapidly in the wind, bearing down on Wren who had reached the wreck first and was lowering a boat herself. For a tense moment it looked as though the rolling edge of Tracker鈥檚 flight deck would cut off Wren鈥檚 mast a split second before the carrier ran down both sloop and aircrew. But her engines were racing at full astern and she managed to pull herself clear. Two of the air crew were picked up; the other was drowned. More aircraft were still to be brought down. The first of these landed safely more by luck than judgment; the next made a good approach run, but the carrier was tossing heavily and the aircraft was waved round for another attempt. So it went on, with the aircraft making try after try to get down in a succession of moments of suspense until at last it landed, coming to a stop with a broken undercarriage and damaged wings. The men in the sloops wilted with relief. They had been more worried than the pilots. Commander D. S. McGrath, captain of Tracker, reported to Walker by R/T: 鈥淢any thanks for your help and moral support. My pilots have resumed their poker in the wardroom and seem to wonder what all the fuss was about.鈥� On Starling鈥檚 bridge, Walker chuckled as he turned to Filleul and said admiringly: 鈥淭hose chaps have got guts. I wouldn鈥檛 go near one of those old stringbags on a summer鈥檚 day, let alone fly them in half a gale in the middle of the Atlantic from a pint-sized flight deck like Tracker鈥檚.鈥�
The weather deteriorated again and a full-scale typhoon hit them on November 1st, forcing Walker to order the whole force to heave-to. For three days they headed into the blackness of the storm only making three knots against mountainous seas which rose like impenetrable green walls above their heads and crashed on the decks with the clash of gigantic cymbals. Overhead, grey watery clouds drove past, propelled by a wind which shrilled with the scream of a thousand violins. Gun mountings were torn from the decks and thrown aside like so much scrap metal; lifeboats, whalers and motor-boats crumbled into firewood at their davits; galley fires were swamped and men forgot the meaning of feeling dry. Starling鈥檚 quarter deck crack widened and the stern wagged more dangerously; rivets snapped along the ship鈥檚 side; leaks were sprung in a hundred places. Nothing was immune from the onrush of boiling, tormented seas hungrily searching for victims in every compartment. The immaculate cruising formation fell apart and ships fought with bows driving against the pounding waves more to keep in sight of each other than to attempt any form of station- keeping. Tracker, as the largest ship, became the focal point for the rest. The sloops rose high on boiling crests with joints creaking and propellers threshing wildly in air, before vanishing into deep chasms and gorges of white-streaked, wind-torn water. For seconds, seeming more like eternity, they would be lost from sight only to rise with reluctant groaning. But Tracker could be seen by all. She rolled, yawed, tossed and pitched and her flight deck was at times deeper than the bottom of a swimming pool, yet always her radar aerial or control top was visible to red-rimmed eyes peering anxiously from the bridges of the sloops. After two days of this, Walker called up Tracker on the R/T and asked her flight meteorological expert to give an estimate of how long the gales would last. The officer thought they were passing through the edge of the storm and could expect fine weather by the 5th. Unlike the experts who forecast bank holiday weather in peacetime, Tracker鈥檚 met. man was right to the day. The fine weather he predicted came on the morning of the 5 and by noon the sea was reduced to a muttering grumble, allowing Walker to turn the Group towards the 鈥渂ig game鈥� grounds. Several hours passed before his 鈥渂eaters鈥� flushed out the first quarry. Shortly before midnight the crack of gunfire came from the port end of the line abreast formation and the bleak glare of starshell lit up the water ahead of Kite. Immediately, she reported to Starling by R/T: 鈥淯-boat on surface two miles ahead of us.鈥�
Walker shouted his orders to the R/T operator: 鈥淭racker alter course to starboard and keep clear of the attack area. Wild Goose and Magpie to act as carrier screen. Woodcock accompany Starling to join U-boat hunt with Kite.鈥� The formation dissolved with alarm bells sounding the urgent call to action stations in every ship, with Wild Goose and Magpie on either bow, Tracker turned away from the danger spot. Woodcock steamed close on Starling鈥檚 quarter as she headed at full speed to join Kite. The battle was on and Walker, wrapped in a dirty roll-necked pullover and ancient jacket he had worn since taking command of Starling, leaned over the front of the bridge looking rather like an eagle about to swoop on some unsuspecting prey. The enemy, briefly illuminated by the starshell, was a valuable prize, one of Doenitz鈥檚 few huge 鈥渕ilch cow鈥� supply U-boats; it had already dived and released SBT's on which Kite was unwittingly 鈥減inging鈥� when Walker arrived. Starling made contact and her asdic team shouted out ranges and bearing. In a few minutes, they recognised the decoy echoes and a new search began. By 3 am on the 6th Starling found asdic contact with the real target and put the other two sloops on to the U-boat. The night was black and visibility uncertain. Walker decided that with good asdic conditions and an excellent echo, he could afford to wait until daylight before sending Woodcock in for the first 鈥渃reeping attack鈥�. After Woodcock had been warned to stand by for the first attack after dawn, her captain announced to his ship鈥檚 company: 鈥淐aptain Walker has decided to stay in contact until day light. Then we shall attack and I expect the U-boat to be destroyed before breakfast.鈥� For the next four hours, Starling jogged along on one engine on a southwesterly course about a mile behind the submerged U-boat. Kite and Woodcock stayed in close attendance. At 7 am Walker called Woodcock alongside and gave her commanding officer instructions over the loudhailer. Crews of three sloops came alert, directors swung on the bearing at which the U-boat might be expected to surface, and depth-charge crews stood by. Starling stopped with the enemy firmly held in asdic contact while Woodcock, asdic silent and engines just turning over to give five knots, crept stealthily along. Just before the ranges and bearings of the enemy coincided, Walker shouted into the R/T: 鈥淔ire now.鈥� A barrage of twenty-six charges tumbled through the water set to explode at extreme settings of 600 and 800 feet. Said Walker: 鈥淚 will stake my last penny on a decisive result to that attack.鈥� None of his officers was inclined to accept the bet. (He would have won. This was U-220).
A few minutes later, his asdic operators reported breaking up noises and crunching as though the U-boat was being gripped and squeezed by some colossal hand. Great bubbles of oil spurted to the surface accompanied by wreckage and, an unusual feature, a headless and tailless torpedo. This, with other trophies, was recovered and the three elated sloops altered course to rejoin Tracker and her escorts. As they resumed sweeping stations, Walker hoisted: 鈥淪plice the mainbrace鈥� and Wild Goose signalled: 鈥淢any congratulations. Magpie and ourselves hope we may play in the first eleven next time.鈥� Walker had provided Woodcock with a trophy and he was not likely to ignore such a plea from Wild Goose. Two hours later another U-boat was reported by aircraft to have dived twenty miles away westward of their sweep. Leaving Kite and Woodcock to take care of Tracker, he called out the 鈥渞eserve鈥�, Wild Goose and Magpie, and set off at full speed to search the area round the last known diving position. Once more he showed his gift of being able to anticipate the movements of an opponent. It would take the three sloops more than an hour to reach the diving position and during that time the U-boat could have made good at least five miles in any direction of the compass. By quickly relating the U-boat鈥檚 position to the convoy routes and taking into account that she might have spotted the aircraft and guessed a carrier force was in the neighbourhood, he swept the northward in the hope of intercepting the enemy. Shortly before 2 pm Wild Goose confirmed the accuracy of his mental arithmetic by triumphantly announcing asdic contact. The three ships metaphorically rolled up their sleeves and, while Magpie maintained a patrol round the attack area, Starling and Wild Goose jockeyed into position for the first assault. Walker attacked with a ten-charge pattern set to 150 and 300 feet to establish the enemy鈥檚 depth. This run, in his estimation, was so bad it would bear no analysis. 鈥淚t was quite shocking,鈥� he wrote later. 鈥淭he U-boat took what I thought to be text-book avoiding action, hard over rudder and full speed. In fact, the Boche did nothing of the sort and I missed him by yards.鈥� Establishing contact again with the enemy at 1,000 yards range, he directed Wild Goose into a 鈥渃reeping attack鈥� to drop twenty-six charges set to 500 and 700 feet. As the order to fire was given from Starling, Wild Goose was late in firing her charges and Walker swore with loud violence. The first explosions blew Starling鈥檚 gyro compass out of alignment and Wild Goose dropped only twenty-two charges. In Walker鈥檚 view it was a 鈥渢horoughly bum attack and I would have staked my last penny it had failed miserably鈥�. When the last charge had exploded, he threw his cap to the deck of Starling鈥檚 bridge and stamped on it in fury. To the amusement of his own crew and that of Wild Goose who had steamed close by, he stamped harder and threw his arms up with despair when both ships had reported, 鈥渓ost contact鈥�. Most of his anger was simulated and designed only to let Wild Goose know he was not satisfied with her performance. He was actually sending an acid signal to Wemyss when his own asdic operator calmed him down by reporting breaking up noises and an underwater explosion. In the next few minutes, oil flowed to the surface and spread over a vast area of the sea around them. In the middle of this another headless and tail less torpedo appeared followed immediately by an abundance of further evidence of destruction.鈥� (Confirmed as U-842). By the time Starling鈥檚 whaler had collected the torpedo, a huge block of butter and a glove marked 鈥淟uick Pirmann鈥�, Walker admitted he would have lost his last penny. Despite the failure of Wild Goose to drop her full pattern of charges, despite Starling鈥檚 compass being wildly inaccurate, the attack had been effective.

Continued.....
'This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by 大象传媒 Radio Merseyside鈥檚 People鈥檚 War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his / her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

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