大象传媒

RECOLLECTIONS OF WORLD WAR 11 by Lt.Cdr.Walter Edney, 1918-2003
Cdr. Edney was twice mentioned in Despatches
This is an extract from his Autobiography written in 1993

It was May 1940 and although we had been at war for six months, by and large it had been very quiet throughout the winter. The only naval action of any significance had been the Battle of the River Plate in which three of our cruisers sank the Graf Spee 鈥� a German armed raider who had been freely roaming the North Atlantic, sinking our shipping at will. German U-Boats had also been quite active in the North Atlantic in an endeavour to cut our life line with the US and Canada. To minimize this, our merchant ships were formed into convoys of up to 100 ships and escorted zig-zag across the Atlantic by destroyers, but we had insufficient destroyers for the task. The Germans began a spring offensive in no uncertain terms in April and quickly invaded Holland, Belgium, Luxenbourg as well as Norway 鈥� they were unstoppable, the huge German machine just rolled forward. So, at the age of 21, I was allocated to HMS Vanoc to be the leading Telegraphist in charge of the ship鈥檚 communications.

HMS Vanoc was a World War 1 destroyer of the V+W class, built in 1917. Although classed as a destroyer, in those days she would not be a match for the present day patrol boat. Her displacement was in the order of 800 tons with one 4 inch gun forward and one aft, 6 torpedo tubes and depth charge throwers aft. Top speed 27 knots. The total crew, including officers, was about 70. The wireless office, of which I was to be in charge, was situated on the lower part of the bridge and consisted of two receiving sets and a very ancient arc/spark transmitter which jammed everyone else within a radius of 20 miles when used. My original communication complement was just 3 telegraphists.

When I was appointed to Vanoc she was in Norway doing her best to assist our army stem the German offensive but in the main, evacuating our soldiers who had been cut off. On 8th June, after most British troops had been evacuated, we sailed for Sullom Voe, Orkney Islands. On the morning of 9th, about half way between Norway and the Orkneys, we were attacked by a German Bomber - a Junkers 88 who straddled us with his bombs, doing little damage except to blow away our aerials. Our stop at Sullom Voe was brief, enough to refuel and reammunition, and then it was off to St.Nazaire in Northern France. The British Army were taking a battering in France with the heavily armed Germans pushing forward on all fronts. Our job was to evacuate as many of the British troops we could and get them aboard for return home. At the same time, in the English Channel, a mass evacuation was taking place at Dunkirk, where a miracle was achieved in getting the majority of our troops home. We had just completed loading one troopship with some 100 or more soldiers when she was bombed and sunk by German Aircraft 鈥� I believe one bomb went straight down her funnel and blew her to pieces. How many survivors there were I do not know but not many I suspect. The job was completed by 18th June when we returned to Plymouth.
Nothing much happened until September when the German Luftwaffe attempted to take control of the air. The Battle of Britain was fought and won by the few. In the meantime it was our duty at sea to prevent landing craft crossing with troops to land along our South Coast. So on 8th September we were assigned to the Anti Invasion Patrol in the English Channel. By 28th September the invasion scare was over and I settled in Portsmouth awaiting next instructions to sail. By now I had passed my examinations for 2nd Grade Wireless Telegraphist, the qualification I needed to advance to Petty Officer Telegraphist.

In January, whilst in harbour, bombs were dropped close to the ship and on 10th we moved out to Spithead. It may have been a lucky escape as the Air Blitz on Portsmouth took place and the town was still burning the next day. A new transmitter and RADAR had been fitted on the ship and on 5th February we departed for Liverpool and sailed with our convoy on 9th. These convoy trips lasted about 10 days, we would stop at Londonderry to refuel. The speed of the convoy was that of the slowest ship and at best was 6 knots on an irregular zig-zag course to avoid torpedoes from U-Boats. The weather was often rough, uncomfortable, cold and unpleasant but the job had to be done to keep our island fed and clothed. The respite in harbour varied between 2-3 days to a week, depending on what maintenancewas required to be done on board.
On 7th November 1940 I was promoted to Acting Petty Officer Telegraphist on the basis of the examination I had passed in August. I was just 22 and not far from my ultimate ambition of Chief Petty Officer, with 18 years yet to serve. At this time it was almost unheard of for a rating with less than 8 years of service to be a Petty Officer, but the war had helped and I did it in 4 years. I was moved from the sailors mess deck in the bows of the ship to the Petty Officer鈥檚 mess which was much more civilized and completely separate. It also meant that I could now partake of my daily issue of rum, neat (without water added)!
Rum was a daily issue to all seamen not of commissioned officer rank, over the age of 21. For the sailors it was diluted 鈥� 3 parts of water to one of rum and had to be consumed on the spot of issue, 12 noon daily. Alternatively for those who did not want a rum issue they could be paid 4 pence daily. I found the concoction insipid and elected for the extra pay. However, as a Petty Officer with neat rum available I chose the rum which was 鈥榣ifting鈥� to take and, although illegal, could be bottled as it would keep. Mostly I drank mine daily.
Another concession of the Navy was a monthly issue of tobacco or cigarettes. This amounted to one pound of tobacco, either pipe or cigarette, or 500 previously rolled cigarettes. There was a small charge for this, but it was negligible as it was duty free. There was also an issue of leaf tobacco in lieu, if required. This was the plain tobacco leaf, which the old salts rolled tightly and bound with tarred hemp, what was known as a 鈥榩rick鈥� and was subsequently cut in thin slices to smoke in a pipe. Guaranteed to make any normal youngster violently sick! It was a dying art, none of the navy could take that. For my part I did not bother drawing my tobacco issue, sensibly knowing it was no good for me.

The following week I met my future wife 鈥� on a blind date in Liverpool. The attraction was immediate and our second date was at the local cinema where we sat through a heavy raid on Liverpool and then had to walk home all the way from Lime Street in the centre to Stoneycroft, a distance of 5 miles. There was no transport running and more than once we had to drop flat on our faces on the pavement as the bombs dropped. We always made it back uninjured. Thelma and I were married for almost sixty years before she died in January 2003. We had four wonderful children and twelve greatgrandchildren

The next convoy began quite peacefully, like the others, in very calm sea to Londonderry for the usual refueling. Little did we know what was ahead of us. We wasted little time in Londonderry and sailed again at almost full speed, 20 knots, to pick up the convoy. During the night of 14th, although we had not met the convoy, it was reported that one of their number, a tanker, had been torpedoed. We finally reached them on Saturday 15th in mid Atlantic and joined HMS Walker to bring the convoy home. During the night that followed, 4 more ships of the convoy had been torpedoed by midnight and it became clear that U-Boats were operating among this convoy, surfacing and firing torpedoes at will. What use could two First World War destroyers be amongst this? Just after midnight, Walker sighted the fluorescent wash of a U-Boat retreating on the surface and immediately gave chase, dropping a pattern of depth charges (10) over the likely diving position of the U-Boat. Unfortunately contact was lost, the U-Boat disappeared and Walker steamed to pick up survivors from yet another tanker. What was not known, was the fact that the U-Boat had been damaged by the depth charges and unable to stay under water for long periods. It decided to surface for inspection of the damage. As it did so, my RADAR operator immediately reported a dark green blob which he thought might be a U-Boat. This fact was reported to HMS Walker and both ships then raced at top speed along the bearing given by the RADAR operator. After a little more than a mile, the silhouette of a U-Boat could be seen on the surface, so without hesitation our Captain gave the order to 鈥淪tand by to Ram鈥�. This we did, in no uncertain manner, at full speed, hitting the U-Boat amidships and toppling her over. It brought Vanoc to a sudden standstill, embedded in the U-Boat which was only cleared by both engines, full astern. The U-Boat rose high in the air and sunk, the Captain still on the bridge wearing his white cap but badly injured went down with her. There were few survivors, just five from a crew of 50 who had probably jumped overboard before the collision.

It subsequently transpired that the U-Boat we had sunk was U100, captained by a Lieut.Capt.Schwepke, a U-Boat Ace who had sunk many thousand tons of British shipping. A further observation of this action that perhaps made history was the fact that this was the first time that such a primitive and crude RADAR set had led to the attack on a U-Boat, remembering that the set had only been installed a few months before and that the aerial had to be rotated manually.

We next swept the surface of the waters with our searchlight in order to pick up survivors. I well remember and will do so always, the cries of those men in the icy waters 鈥淐amerade鈥�. In my youth my bitterness towards them was extreme. They had sunk our ships and many of our seamen drowned at sea. Their air force (the Luftwaffe) had bombed our cities relentlessly killing thousands of innocent civilians. I just had to shout 鈥渓eave them there鈥�. Fortunately perhaps the older members of our crew had more compassion and pulled up the side as many as they could, before the next alarm. It had amounted to just five, one officer and four men.

Whilst recovering these survivors, the Walker ASDIC operator reported a U-Boat echo, which, on investigation, placed it directly under our stern (where we were stopped, recovering survivors). There was only one answer, to get away quickly and depth charge, which we did, followed by a run over the spot by HMS Walker who also dropped a bank of depth charges. Any further swimmers that may have been in the water (and there were some) could not possibly have survived this fierce attack. After a short while, a U-Boat surfaced just astern of us, so close that it was necessary to move out of the way fairly quickly for fear of being torpedoed or fired upon. It was not to be. In fact both Walker and Vanoc opened a cross fire at the U-Boat. It was quite clear that she was badly damaged and the crew would have to surrender. The U-Boat flashed a message in English to Walker to the effect that she was sinking. The bow of the U-Boat subsequently rose in the air and she slithered down to her grave. The whole of the crew took to the water, all saved, including the Captain, with the exception of the Engineer Officer and two seamen. What we had achieved! This was U-99, captained by Lt.Cmdr.Kretschmen, the unchallenged Ace of the German U-Boat fleet after Prien who had been sunk with his U-Boat a few days before by HMS Wolverine 鈥� another of the old V+W class. But what of ourselves? The damage to our bow was extensive, but the watertight doors were holding and the engines were sound. We would be of little use but we remained with the convoy at slow speed and left them for Loch Eive, Scotland on the morning of 18th. We had to leave at this point because we were desperately short of fuel, having steamed at high speed to meet the convoy and used much full power during the action. It took three hours to refuel and we left to rejoin the convoy for Liverpool, but did not proceed into harbour as usual. We anchored outside at the bay in the Mersey. The following day, which by now was 20th March, we proceeded up harbour at 11am to be met by the Admiral of Western Approaches and much other 鈥榯op brass鈥�. Here we received congratulations all round, discharged our prisoners and settled ourselves in Gladstone Dock for what was to be a period of repairs to our bow, among other modifications. In due course, many months later, awards were made for this action, our own Captain and the Captain of Walker were both awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, our ASDIC operator the Distinguished Service Medal and for my part, not that I know what it was, I received a mention in Dispatches. I suppose my part had been keeping sound and efficient communications including the RADAR which was my responsibility. A good account of this action is given in a book entitled 鈥淭he Golden Horseshoe鈥� by Terence Robertson 鈥� of which I have a copy.

The above is an extract from 鈥楩ortune without Fame鈥� by Lt.Cdr.Walter P. Edney written in 1993 for his children and grandchildren. The Daily Telegraph wrote an Obituary for Cdr.Edney when he died in September 2003 but, due to lack of space, were unable to print it. They recommended that his book be published for the general public and I would be glad to hear from anybody who can help with this. Please contact Christine Edney (his daughter) by email: christine.edney@btinternet.com

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