大象传媒

What did you do in the war dad? Part 2
He then undertook his officer training at HMS King Alfred situated at Brighton, Sussex. Overall he found this an interesting experience and he made some good friends. The course was intense taking about 3 months. He spoke happily of his ship-handling classes in and around Shoreham Harbour. Notwithstanding the tight schedule, he also enjoyed moments of leisure on the playing fields of Lancing College. He took his navigation course at the splendid Greenwich College. Amongst the instructors was the legendary Captain Carpenter VC (hero of the Zeebrugee raid in the Great War) who apparently to avoid celebrity status was in the habit of wearing his VC medal ribbon hidden behind his lapel.

On attaining his commission my father received orders to join the newly launched and fitted out HMS Borage, a flower class corvette. What a change! The Prince of Wales boasted a displacement of 43,736tons, a length of 750鈥�, a beam of 112鈥� and a complement of 1,500 men and was one of the largest units of the Royal Navy. In contrast HMS Borage had a displacement of just under 1000tons, a length of 200鈥�. Beam of 33鈥� and a complement of 48 men and was among the smallest units in the Royal Navy. In place of the massive 14鈥� guns her main armament was a single 4鈥� gun. There were some additional anti aircraft weapons and of course depth charges. Something of a sea change.

The 鈥淏orage鈥� like many corvettes was modified with improvements throughout the war. In her initial guise, she had an unusual feature a framework attached to her bows called an acoustic hammer, used to explode acoustic mines.

Western approaches ships were 鈥渨orked up鈥� in the Tobermory base on the isle of Mull. The work was under the command of the extremely competent but sometimes irascible and unpredictable Vice Admiral Gilbert Stephenson who was nicknamed 鈥淓lectric Whiskers鈥� or 鈥淢onkey due to his rather large and unconventional sideburns. Officers and crews lived in trepidation during the training. My father had an anecdote concerning the Vice Admirals first visit aboard, I believe the Borage. All was shipshape and Bristol fashion as he was piped aboard the ship. No sooner had he stepped aboard than he took of his cap, threw it to the deck and shouted, 鈥淚t鈥檚 an unexploded enemy bomb! What are you going to do about it?鈥� A rating broke ranks and proceeded to kick the cap over the side. There was a visible wince and a silent groan from all assembled, all feared the harshest recriminations, but to everyone鈥檚 surprise and relief the Vice Admiral merely commented 鈥淕ood man, quick thinking鈥�, put in hand the recovery of his cap and continued the inspection. The training was vigorous and needed to be. Convoy escorts were principally engaged in anti-submarine warfare. The emphasis of the training was intercepting and attacking submarines. This involved the simulated searches and engagements with British submarines. Whether or not everyone鈥檚 training included the following I am not aware, but certainly my father was allowed, in order to assist him to consider the mindset of a submarine commander, the opportunity to reverse roles and undertake the search and attack from a submarine. He was full of admiration for any submariner. He said it was a very claustrophobic experience in the submarine and to hear the approaching escort on albeit a simulated attack.

Training successfully concluded, so began a life of escorting North Atlantic convoys. The 鈥淏orage鈥� plied her trade in company with her escort group. The North Atlantic can be a hostile environment in peacetime. The weather, particularly in winter, may be severe with howling gales, enormous seas and even icebergs. In wartime it was always hostile. The advantage of bad weather was that generally it reduced the likelihood of U boat attack, but the threat was not eliminated. In rough weather the Flower Class corvettes were particularly lively ships if any sort of sea was running. My father used to describe the mountainous seas, the howling gales and freezing winter weather. In order to pass a long the ship in such conditions required the use of lifelines. Four-hour watches on an open bridge were decidedly bracing. The lifesaver as far as my father was concerned, was the hot cocoa drinks made with evaporated milk, a drink normally far too sweet, but a necessity in these harsh conditions. In rough weather the whole ship was constantly awash and everything more or less permanently damp. There was also a constant battle to keep the merchant ships of the convoy in position.

The alternative of fair weather gave a far greater threat of and actual U boat attacks. The area of most danger was mid Atlantic where there was no air cover. Attacks were mostly at night in full moon or in long twilight. Of course odd 鈥渟traggler鈥� ships were picked off at any time. My father described the terrible destruction of oil tankers or ships carrying munitions. He had seen ships sink in all different ways. Sometimes a ship would stand on its end with her bows pointing skywards before slipping beneath the waves, an awesome and strangely fascinating sight. He used to say that during an attack there was usually too much going on at the same time and too much to do to be frightened. Explosions, star shells, tracer bullets, gunfire and depth charges all occurring on a constantly moving maritime chessboard requiring your utmost attention.

He described hunting and attacking a U boat as exciting. However rescuing frozen, oily survivors quickly brought home the real horrors of war. His was very much the world described in 鈥漈he Cruel Sea鈥� Nicolas Monserrats鈥� novel so well brought to life in the film version starring Jack Hawkins as the corvette captain. My father thought 鈥淭he Cruel Sea鈥�
a pretty good representation.
His destinations were usually Halifax, Nova Scotia and St John鈥檚 Newfoundland in the west. Londonderry, the Clyde and Liverpool in the east. He grew to know and like these havens. The best convoys were the uneventful ones. Those were everyone got home safely, and even better if a U-boat was destroyed as well. As the war progressed these grew in number but the North Atlantic remained a dangerous place right until peacetime.
At the end of the war my father was amazed when he was involved in rounding up the U boats as to how many were still operational. The colossal dockyard pens from which they had operated on the Atlantic coast of France also hugely impressed him.

HMS Borage was able to deal with mines as well as submarines. Invariably a cut free mine was exploded by gunfire. Father used to enjoy the challenge of shooting at the bobbing mine from the rolling ship using a rifle. An added bonus to exploding the mines or depth charges was the possibility of fresh fish for supper. The explosions left numerous dead fish on the surface, which if conditions permitted could be recovered.

On a refit to HMS Borage my father was ordered to transfer to another Flower Class corvette HMS Alisma. My mother thought this boded well as Alisma is an aquatic plant.
He then returned to the Mediterranean, which remained, until Sicily was secured in mid 1943, a hostile place. Although the weather was generally calm it was not free from sudden storms. My father鈥檚 earlier experiences had prepared him. There were not as many submarines as in the Atlantic but there remained the serous threat of air attacks. The particular hot spot was round Cape Bon (Tunisia) as the sea route was exposed to AXIS air attacks from Sardinia, Sicily and the small Italian island of Pantellaria.
Shipping bound for Malta or further east was obliged to run this gauntlet. But as the southern Mediterranean was occupied by the Allies the arrival of vital air cover made convoys less dangerous, although submarines remained a threat.

My father enjoyed the Mediterranean and the climate and found the coastline interesting. Gibraltar and Alexandria at either end were solid British havens. In between there were the more exotic small North African ports such as Bizerte. There were sometimes interesting trips ashore. My father recounted that in one of the ports (I forget which) he and his shipmates became the regular customers of an Italian POW barber. They would go for a haircut and shave. He described the ridiculous incongruity of having your enemy brandishing a razor inches from your throat. He found, like many others, that the Italians were not the fanatics that the Germans were. Consequently more often than not the Italians were given some useful jobs around the place. Usually they only wished to be back home with their families and their pasta.

My father worked his way up through the chain of command aboard the 鈥淎lisma鈥� starting as the junior officer, as a sub Lieutenant and ending up as First Officer. The system involved say starting in charge of depth charges, then moving to gunnery, then navigation, so that in the end you had a pretty good take on all aspects of the ship.
Whilst aboard 鈥淎lisma鈥� my father鈥檚 immediate senior was a New Zealander of Danish extraction one Val Andersen, a very likeable and extremely laid back individual, an inveterate wise cracker and also a prime mover in many of the ships social activities. He was also fairly enterprising. On occasion he acquired for everyone some peculiar liquor brewed by some monks in the North African hinterland. Another amusing episode occurred when Andersen was the navigating officer. 鈥淎lisma鈥� at the close of a Malta convoy was ordered to anchor in a very awkward spot in Sliema creek. This involved some intricate ship handling. In the final stages of the manoeuvres the Captain asked him 鈥淢r Andersen, how much water under the ship?鈥� To which he retorted, 鈥� technically speaking we are aground鈥�.
Throughout the war when matters were not too hectic the exchanges of signals between ships were often punctuated with wit and dependant on the ships involved signals often had literary or biblical references.
One of the more adventurous episodes involving the New Zealander and my father occurred when a serious defaulter who was under shipboard arrest broke free, having raided a small arms locker on his way. My father, who ironically was an avid US western film fan, together with Andersen armed themselves with revolvers and sought to recapture the escapee. As they approached the man he periodically loosed off a shot in their direction. In best western tradition they counted the rounds as they were fired. However, unbeknown to them he had more than one magazine. As my father closed in, on what he thought was an opponent with an empty gun, the escapee took an unexpected pot shot at him, the bullet striking the deck head just above his head. They managed to overcome the escapee without any further harm to anyone and he was duly conveyed to the more secure facilities of a nearby battleship HMS Malaya, I believe. Andersen and my father dined out on the story for some time. Even with the distance of half a world separating them after the war they remained firm friends until my father鈥檚 death.
Whilst in the Mediterranean my father came across Mountbatten and the celebrated HMS Kelly. Mountbatten鈥檚 famous 8th Flotilla was the place for action and fame. My father said he鈥檇 never seen ships so regularly and comprehensively shot up when they returned to harbour.
As the war progressed the convoys were attacked less frequently and Mediterranean convoys in the summertime were pleasant. Even back in the Atlantic technology and tactics had put the balance in favour of the escorts. The flower class corvettes remained the workhorses of escort duty but I know my father was secretly envious of the fast and graceful destroyers that often headed the escort groups. He found the most impressive anti submarine ships to be the 鈥淏lack Swan鈥� class sloops, which achieved such legendary successes under the command of Captain F J Walker.
Having rounded up her last u-boats HMS Alisma in her Royal Navy role received her final orders to sail for Milford Haven, where together with a host of other superfluous naval ships she awaited her fate.

Both HMS Borage and HMS Alisma had full careers during their wars at sea. It is interesting to scan the various websites that exist today and see from these the composition of some of their convoys; the actions they fought and particularly gratifying are the testimonials from the torpedoed mariners rescued by them.
Interestingly HMS Borage was purchased by the Irish Navy, renamed Mocha and continued to do sterling work up until she was scrapped in 1970. HMS Alisma who always gravitated to the Mediterranean when she could, returned there and was snapped up by a Greek ship owner and converted into a merchant ship. She had three further lives as 鈥淟aconia鈥�, 鈥淐ontantinos 5鈥� and 鈥淧arnos鈥�. After briefly featuring in the Suez blockade she finally foundered in the Tyrrhenian Sea on the 16 July 1954.
The 鈥淧rince of Wales鈥� is a war grave. She lies in 30 fathoms (216鈥�) of water at position 03鈥�34鈥�12鈥� N 104鈥�27鈥�48 E. She lies upside down; an underwater white ensign flies at her stern above her vast upturned hull.

My father鈥檚 remains also lie at sea. After a long illness and according to his wishes, when he died, his ashes were scattered in the Irish Sea beyond the Bar of the Mersey estuary, a place he had crossed often during the war.

Submitted by
Anthony Niblock Jnr
Gillian Niblock

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