大象传媒

That was the buzz (news) going around the mess decks on board HMS Volage, a destroyer, as she swung around a buoy at the naval base of Scapa Flow in the Orkneys. Ugh! The though of such a sea trip didn鈥檛 come easy to the ship鈥檚 company, although it had been up in the North Atlantic and Arctic many times with the Fleet in the year 1944.

Word was that the convoys to Murmansk, which were taking munitions to the hard-pressed Russians, were notorious for the extremes of bad weather and constant enemy attacks by U-boats and aircraft that they experienced. We were given to understand that this convoy would be the second since D-day. Many of the escort ships and destroyers that had been engaged in the operation had by now, in late September, become available for other duties. The long daylight hours of summer made it advantageous for U-boats and German bombers and torpedo planes to operate; a scout plane once having found a convoy, would alert bomber squadrons based in North Norway, a short flight away, plus awaiting U-boats, and maybe surface naval ships as well.

Us and five other destroyers proceeded out of Scapa Flow having completed our victaulling of oil fuel, food and ammunition for a long voyage. The first destination was Loch Ewe, a large anchorage on the west coast of Scotland, which had been fortified so that merchant ships could assemble before being taken to Russia by Royal Navy Ships. Anchoring in Loch Ewe among the merchant ships seemed peaceful enough that afternoon and evening, and I remember a glorious sunset over the mountains to the north-west as I took a turn of exercise on the upper deck. Some twenty merchant ships and destroyers there must have been quite a sight as darkness fell, although the local people and soldiers guarding the anchorage had witnessed the like before, knowing that, like other times before, when they awoke in the morning the lock would be empty with all the ships gone.

So it was destroyers first, spreading out to form a corridor for the merchant ships to form up three of four abreast, having weighed anchor at about 2 am; then proceeding past Cape Wrath on the North Western tip of Scotland and on the western seaway of the Orkney Islands. The sea was moderate and the sky overcast, as observed by our gun crew on watch, like many of the ship鈥檚 company carrying out their duties as trained. In the distance we saw some ships coming out of Scapa consisting of the battleship HMS Rodney, the cruiser HMS Diadem, two escort carriers HMS Campania and HMS Stalker, plus three more destroyers and a couple of trawlers. That鈥檚 good we will have some aircraft support for our long arduous journey. But look over there HMS Rodney with her 9x16 inch guns, are we expecting trouble? Is the German battleship Turpitz coming out of the Norwegian Fjord. Will there be a covering force, like we did with other British Naval forces to cover for Russian convoy JW59 off North Cape that sailed from Loch Ewe to Scotland on August 15th 1944.

Rodney is not as fast as Turpitz, we, us destroyers would have to be the attacking force, we have equal speed with her plus 52 torpedoes between us. What chances would we have against a formidable opponent, we discussed on duty at B gun with some anticipation.

1 myself was 19 years old; about half the ship鈥檚 company were 18 or 19 years old and had not been bloodied, so as to speak, but they had endured 4 months on board in the savage North Atlantic and Arctic seas and had become thoroughly conversant with sea duties on board. The rest of the ship鈥檚 company were aged 20 to 24 years; A.B.s, Leading Seamen, Petty Officers 30 years. Captain about the oldest at 40 plus. The Officers were various ages, so to us young lads had the experience of older generations to reassure us that we will be alright. When you are young, you cannot see the danger; our ship will never be sunk, it happens to other ships, not us.

With the convoy complete, we learned that the convoy speed was averaging 6 to 9 knots, which seemed slow to us. We had, over the previous months with the Fleet, averaged speeds of 15 to 20 knots. Settling down to our routine of four hours on duty, eight off, for cruising stations for five or six days, punctuated with four hours on and fours off at defence stations and, if needed, close up for duties all the time at action stations. These duties begin to take the stamina from you, especially since the lack of exercise on a small ship meant we weren鈥檛 in the best of condition health wise after many months at sea and being based at Scapa Flow.

What鈥檚 for dinner or supper, was the cry. Each mess could choose its own menu. From those off watch, two or three seamen, taking turns, would prepare the day鈥檚 meal, as per the mess caterer鈥檚 choice it was usually a three bagger (21 years service) who was voted to that position. The meal having been prepared, it would be taken to the galley. The ship鈥檚 cook would have many different dishes to cook for different messes. At sea, for seamen on different watches, the first meals served would be for those on watch and they would be placed in a hot box. The next serving would be for those next going on watch, and all other bods would be served last. If at action stations, the galley fires would be extinguished, and lit again at the Captain鈥檚 command. The only food then would consist of cold sandwiches or tins of pork and beans or bully beet.

The two aircraft carriers were merchant ships converted to carry aircraft. Although escort carriers could only carry a few aircraft (sailors named them Woolworth Carriers), they did a great service in World War II. Their compliment consisted of 6 to 9 Swordfish aircraft on each one. They were old bi-planes of 1935 vintage and very slow. They were used for U-boat spotting by the convoy, and they could attack the enemy with depth charges. There was always one aircraft over our convoy from dawn to dusk. It was cold for us in the Arctic, and the Swordfish had open cockpits, and if there was a snow storm there would be a whiteout and sometimes they would not find their way back to the home carrier, and have to ditch in the sea, never to be heard of again.

The duties of a destroyer with the convoy or fleet varied between being out on the horizon away on one鈥檚 own on picket duty as part of an early warning system, to being close in to support the convoy鈥檚 defence from all forms of enemy aggression, or to being canteen boat to the carriers, positions astern of them, in case flying aircraft ditched overboard, since aircrew stood little chance of surviving in Arctic sea temperatures. Carriers would turn into the wind for aircraft to take off or land, with us following and turning also. This would mean sharp turns, which always seemed to happen at mealtimes (hold on to your plates, lads!). Destroyers could be ordered to attack U-boats with depth charges or ward off enemy aircraft, or proceed at full speed to attack a surface ship with guns and torpedoes, and would have backing from the 6 inch guns of the cruisers.

Below decks off duty consisted of card games, uckers (ludo) and numerous other games, reading books passed to one another, and listening to records played on the below deck tannoy. One favourite on this voyage was the Russian Volga boat song, 鈥渓a, la, oi, oi鈥� and stamping feet; that and I鈥檚sy Bond singing Russian Lula Lula bye, did much to help keep up morale.

The convoy, zigzagging all the time, gradually crept up to more dangerous waters up the North Cape of Norway, heading towards Bear Island on our starboard bow, away as far as possible from land and German air bases, and closer to sea ice. It was still light way into the night, the seas calm with a heavy swell, but it was better that the weather was rough as that kept U-boats and aircraft down. U-boat activity was dangerous at night, although there was no flying by aircraft. Other times to be alert were dawn and sunset; the ship would be closed up to Defence Stations and half the ship鈥檚 crew would be on duty. Twice depth charges were dropped at night, without success. For that reason, even in our hammocks all clothes were kept on as well as boots, without their laces, to allow for a quick exit to action stations, plus being able to kick off the boots if we had to abandon ship.

For those out on the upper deck, keeping warm was difficult, try as you may, despite wearing as many clothes as possible and walking up and down a few yards each way on a small ship, or jumping up and down, or huddling close together with the rest of the gun crew of eight in the open gun shield. Four hours seemed endless, despite telling the same old yards and jokes. Once your relief came you wished him well before getting down below as fast as possible so as to warm up and finally stop shivering. For those on duty below deck, in warmer conditions, there were various duties, such as being asdic officer, or working in radar or in radio rooms, or boiler and engine rooms. Others were standing or sitting down awaiting a call for actions stations, when they would have to go down into magazine or shell rooms to be locked in there. If necessary, because of fire or the safety of the ship, orders would be given to flood certain compartments, with the lives of those members of the ship鈥檚 company inside them having to be sacrificed.

As RA60 convoy sailed on its long and arduous voyage, we learnt that we were near the ice cap of the North Pole, with the autumn ice cap increasing in size as winter approached, pushing later convoys closer to the north Norway German bomber fleets.

Another memory of the northern latitude at that time of year was the Northern Lights, or Aurora Borealis, which was a continuous display of coloured lights in the night sky.

Still onwards to the Kola inlet leading to Murmansk, and with no Russian ship or aircraft sighted we seemed to have completed our voyage on our own; so far, so good, with not major attack from the air and minor U-boat activity. So we arrived at Kola Sound, with the convoy delivered safe and sound. Carriers and cruisers were at anchor in the bay, while the merchant ships went down river to Murmansk, and the destroyers and lesser ships went to the Russian naval base at Polyarno. We passed three of four Russian torpedo boats of 1918 vintage which were much smaller than us, crews on deck, but there was not a cheer or wave, as if we were not there, yet we had made it. We tied up port side and secure, hands to clean ship, before hands to make and mend. But what the ship鈥檚 company really wanted was to catch up on much needed sleep. I myself was not so lucky, for I found that I had to do a couple of hours duty as quartermaster on the gangway before I was able to join the others turned in on their hammocks, which was very wearying indeed.

Down in the mess decks there was great joy: MAIL from home had come aboard. We though: thank goodness that the ship carrying our mail had got through our voyage of endurance. Sitting down to read a letter from my mother, Ken Ives was sitting next to me and he proclaimed that his letter stated that a V1 flying bomb (doodlebug) had wiped out his entire family!! What do you say to answer that? Apart from 鈥淗ard luck, Ken鈥� and trying to bring him in to the conversation and jokes flying around the mess, but not to dwell on the subject unless he mentioned it. No consolation in them days. I had a parcel plus a letter. Opening the parcel revealed the contents to be APPLES and COOKERS. I couldn鈥檛 believe it. Next day, for midday dinner, our mess had apple pie, a great English apple pie in Russian; must have been a first.

Surprise, surprise, we were invited ashore, but not out of the dockyard. We could go along to the Art and Culture Centre, but not to fraternise with the Russians, especially the girls. But once we were ashore, there was no way we wanted to chat up the girls anyway, as they seemed to be on guard with sub machine guns at various points in the dockyard. They were stocky, formidable, mother-in-law types; where were the good looking girls? The Art and Culture building was very plain inside and out, the contents consisting of pictures and statues, not very pleasing to Jack Tar, mainly depicting the Revolution, praising workers uniting for Communist causes. Of course, there was a picture and statue of Jo Stalin. There was no canteen of eats and drinks for us, just frozen looks from the attendants.

Another day we went to a football match between a scratch destroyer team and a Russian team. I remember it was a 2 鈥� 2 draw, and then we went back to the ship. One day four Russian boys came to our gangway dockside. Jack is always fond of children. They had come to barter some army badges, I myself and a few others traded some nutty (chocolate) cigarettes for them. I still have a badge to this day (60 years on). In our mess that day, for midday meal, one of our mess mates made for afters (sweet) a Clacker (pastry) for jam tart. When it came back from the galley it was as hard as a wooden board. Someone said give it to the Russian boys, so another mess mate did just that. Throwing it to them it cut the finger of the lad that caught it. It must have been the first naval clacker that had drawn blood. Some of the crew went to a Russian Army Concert, saying afterwards that it was great, I was not lucky enough to obtain a ticket. Some others had a very large push ball match against a Russian team.
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