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Mulberry Harbour

HMS St Martin, pennants W27, was an ocean going tug. According to Lenton and Colledge ‘Warships of World War 11’ 48 of this class of tug were built during the first world war. During the second world war there were just fifteen of these tugs left and of these, six were sunk: St Abbs and St Fagan were sunk by German bombers at Dunkirk; St Breock and St Just were sunk by Japanese bombers off Singapore; St Cyrus was mined off the Humber and St Issey was torpedoed by U 617 off Benghazi in the Mediterranean.
St Martin was a coal burner built by Livingstone in 1919 with a displacement of 860 tons; speed 12 knots complement 30.When I joined her the only armament she carried was a stripped Lewis machine gun though at a later date a 20mm cannon, an Oerlikon was fitted. For a large part of the second world war she operated from Lamlash on the Isle of Arran, towing targets for ships and submarines to practice gunnery somewhere out by Ailsa Craig. Some members of her crew had their families staying at Lamlash and they would go ashore every night.
As the day for the invasion of Europe loomed St Martin was sent down to Portland to take part in towing the Mulberry harbour across the English Channel. The Mulberry harbour consisted of two floating walls, inner and the outer. The outer wall consisted of breakwaters, low lying but deep to provide protection against the sea. The inner wall consisted of high concrete blocks to provide protection against the wind. Mounted on the top of these massive concrete blocks were anti-aircraft guns.
On D Day we awoke to find the sky full of aircraft heading for France. It was an awe inspiring sight. On D Day plus one St Martin headed for the French coast, I forget which beach, towing two of the breakwaters. We then returned to England. I forget whether we towed another two across, I think we did, but we did make another trip towing an American floating crane. The weather was very rough and the American sergeant who was in charge of the crane and living in the wardroom was sea sick all the way across. He was in a bad way and we felt sorry for him. My recollection is that we took about two days to cross.
On this occasion we approached the beach at night. A passage through the minefield was marked by buoys and in the darkness we accidentally caught some of these buoys and dragged them along behind the crane. Because it was dark the harbourmaster would not allow the gate to be opened to allow the St Martin into the shelter of the harbour and we had to drop anchor outside. As I have said it was extremely rough and a split developed in the St Martin’s port side below the water line. The water coming into the bunkers washed coal dust into the pumps choking them. As the water started to rise in the boiler room and engine room there was a danger that the water would reach the fires and the ship would lose all power. The crew was ordered to form a bucket chain to bail water out. Meantime, after much frantic signaling the gate was opened and we were allowed to enter. As it would be dangerous to enter whilst towing the crane the order was given to slip it and away it went into the darkness. What the American sergeant thought about that I will never know and I cannot remember whether or not he managed to leave St Martin before we returned to England.
Safely inside and in calm water we dropped anchor and I think the engineers must have patched up the split in the side. But another misfortune was awaiting us. Next morning the concrete block of the inner wall near to which we were sheltering broke up and the concrete fell onto our anchor cable snapping it and we were drifting. We dropped the port anchor but it was dragging and with no alternative the commander ordered the engine room full ahead and we steered for the gate to get out of the harbour, but an offshore wind was pushing the ship which had a high superstructure to starboard in the direction of the concrete inner harbour wall. We were saved by a collision with another tug. As the ship was going forward and simultaneously being blown sideways to starboard a collision with one of the concrete blocks was looking inevitable. I was standing on the starboard side of the foc'sle and could see all that was happening. If you are traveling forward you have a clear view of what lies ahead. But if you are simultaneously moving sideways the view ahead is changing so that into what appeared to be a clear road ahead there suddenly and unexpectedly appears in your path an object that you thought that you would be passing. And that is what happened to the St Martin. We were heading for the open gate but being pushed sideways towards a concrete block when suddenly there was another tug at anchor between the St Martin and the concrete block. It was a much smaller tug than the St Martin and I was looking down on it as we headed for a collision. A man on the upper deck of the tug seeing us coming was shouting to us and holding up his hands as if to ward us off. What happened to that little tug I do not know but it was a glancing blow and tugs are sturdy craft. The St Martin struck her about amidships with her starboard bow and bounced off straight through the gate and into the open sea. As I type this it sounds so ridiculous that the reader might think that I am spinning a yarn, yet it is true.
We made each crossing without any escort but were lucky enough never to be attacked. The only action we saw was tracer in the distance on our starboard side which suggested that there was a battle going on with German E boats. A battleship, the Rodney I think, was anchored off one of the beaches bombarding German positions. As we were at anchor off the beach on one occasion the body of an American sailor drifted past us on its way to the beach. I have often wondered about him, how he met his death, and his family. Our lives briefly came together and yet we never knew each other. What a strange world.
The St Martin had three officers, Lieutenant Swann the commanding officer, one other whose name I forget and a Warrant officer Mr Boniface. Petty Officer Delgaty was the coxswain. Other names I remember were Able seaman Murray and McLeod. These two came from the Scottish islands and spoke Gaelic. Able seaman English, I think from Brighton, stoker Gillespie who came from Glasgow and the cook/officers’ steward
Bert Ward 24 October 2003

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