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.

During July, the blockade of the Bay of Biscay began to yield results; twenty-one U-boats were sunk by air and sea patrols in the 鈥淢usketry鈥� and 鈥淪easlug鈥� areas, sightings were fewer and it seemed that Doenitz was exploring a possible alternative route to the Atlantic by sailing his boats down the Spanish coast inside the three-mile territorial waters limit. Interrogation of survivors had begun to show a deterioration in the U-boat crews. The Intelligence survey for July, 1943, said: 鈥淢ain reasons for the decline in morale are the heavy U-boat losses and a growing realisation that Germany can no longer hope to win the war. At least two out of every five prisoners are quite willing to admit that they have had more than enough of the war which they consider as good as lost. Their own war-weariness is increased by depressing letters from equally tired relations and friends inside Germany.鈥� Doenitz鈥檚 attempts to find a route round the Bay instead of across it became apparent when the Second Support Group arrived for their next patrol in the 鈥淢usketry鈥� area on August 12th. There were few aircraft sightings of the enemy and, throughout the patrol, the Group enlivened proceedings by a series of encounters with the Luftwaffe. On the first day they sighted a party of eight JU 88s who darted in close for a quick look before making off at high speed. The next day another flock paid a brief visit and, in the afternoon, the ships sighted an empty RAF rubber dinghy half-submerged. In the evening, the sloops were in sight of the Spanish coast when nine JU 88 fighter-bombers circled above and looked as though they were about to attack. Action stations were sounded and, as the aircraft came in low on the horizon, they were met by a full barrage from the six sloops, followed by a stream of machine-gun and oerlikon tracers which forced them to swerve away and split up. It was not Walker鈥檚 way to take evasive action; he forced the Group into line abreast and at full speed headed towards the regrouping point of the aircraft over the Spanish coast; a gesture more of bravado than menace. Enemy planes screamed in low again, but this time Walker kept his armament silent, allowing the aircraft to come into range of the small-arms before giving the executive signal to open fire. The JU 88s were caught in a fierce fan of gunfire which again they were unable to penetrate; instead they broke away, two of them heading back towards France with smoke belching from their tails.
By this time, almost a revolution in air-sea warfare had taken place. In effect, six sloops doing twenty-one knots were chasing a formation of aircraft capable of more than 300 miles an hour. The enemy carried out the next attack in two groups, one of three and the other of four, at a great height. They were greeted by a barrage from eighteen twin-barrelled mountings which split up their formations and sent them scattering back to the coast. Another plane was seen to be in difficulty, losing height as it changed course and headed northwards from the battlefield. This was their last attempt. They circled out of range while the ships, reaching the three-mile limit of Spanish waters, turned on a sweep towards Bordeaux. Only then did the remaining six aircraft vanish into the haze, chased and defeated by surface units. It was a remarkable encounter. Although no planes were seen to crash, and therefore could not be claimed, it is certain that two and probably three were damaged without ever dropping a bomb or firing a shot. The sloops were fortunate perhaps that the aircraft had not been led by a more determined leader. On the 10th, three Focke-Wulf bombers came accidentally within range of the Group鈥檚 guns and were chased away with shells exploding around them. Four days later the sloops headed for Liverpool having neither sighted nor gained contact with anything more exciting than a school of porpoise. In fact, the successes of the Second Support Group in 鈥淢usketry鈥�, of other Groups patrolling in 鈥淪easlug鈥�, and of Coastal Command and patrols supported recently by Mosquito squadrons to ward off marauding JU 88s, enforced the blockade to the extent that Doenitz had for the first time lost the initiative since the fall of France and the occupation of the Biscayan ports.
In deference to Eilleen鈥檚 wishes Johnnie had not been told about the fate of Parthian, when the Group were about to enter Gladstone Docks, she prepared to meet him and break the news quietly in the privacy of his cabin. But while Starling was being mancruvred into position for the tricky approach to the narrow entrance of the dock, a signalman reported to Walker: 鈥淭here is someone ashore waving as though he wants to come aboard urgently, Sir.鈥� It was an officer from Derby House and, as Starling nosed her way through the entrance, he leapt on to the quarter deck and rushed up to the bridge. After saluting, he said: 鈥淚 have been ordered to report to you, Sir, that your son Timothy is believed to have been killed in action while serving in the submarine Parthian.鈥� A shocked silence followed his words; with the seeming exception of Walker, all were stunned by the news and the almost indecent haste with which it had been given, not through any fault of the officer, but because no one had waited until the ship was safely docked. Walker鈥檚 face was expressionless as he continued to bring Starling alongside the jetty. It was a difficult manoeuvre at the best of times and Walker, superb seaman as he was, could not lay claim to being an expert ship handler in confined waters. This time, he conned his ship brilliantly and, after 鈥淔inished with Engines鈥� had been rung on the telegraph, left the bridge without a word to greet Eilleen at the gangway and escort her to his cabin. Starling鈥檚 officers helped them both through that difficult morning. One by one they came to their Captain鈥檚 cabin to have a drink and try to talk light-hearted nonsense. Eilleen still remembers how much it meant not to have a procession of people coming to offer sympathy. In the afternoon, they visited the Red Cross headquarters in Liverpool to register Timothy鈥檚 biographical details on the chance that he might still be alive and taken prisoner. In their own hearts, however, they realised he was dead, although the Admiralty officially recognised him at this stage as being missing. By an earlier arrangement, Starling鈥檚 Wardroom were giving a party the next afternoon for the officials and wives of a borough which had more or less adopted Starling. Filleul offered to have the party cancelled, but neither Johnnie nor Eilleen would hear of it. The party was held as arranged and even the hosts seemed to be enjoying it. No mention was made of the tragic blow under which Captain and Mrs. Walker were suffering until someone, looking at the family photographs in Johnnie鈥檚 cabin, asked Eilleen how many children she had. Unthinkingly she answered four . . . then she stopped short in sudden realisation, her eyes meeting her husband鈥檚 across the cabin. The incident was passed over in a spate of chatter. It has since been suggested in various newspaper reports that Captain Walker fought from that time onwards in a spirit of revenge. This was not so; he hated the Nazi creed and would take any measures to stamp it out. But towards the Germans as people he was completely impersonal, they were foreigners he hardly knew. During this period in harbour, the London Gazette published a list of awards to the Second Support Group for their exploits on the 鈥淢usketry鈥� patrols. In his Reports of Proceedings, Walker took care to recommend those officers and ratings he thought had done what he called a 鈥済ood job of work鈥�. Conversely, he would always stress tactical blunders for which he considered himself responsible. The Gazette was a sure guide to the opinions of his senior officers ashore. He was made a Commander of the Order of the Bath, only officers of Flag Rank were made Knights, and once again the citation stressed, among other qualities, his skill in leadership.
Starling鈥檚 First Lieutenant and asdic officer, Lieutenant Impey, had already received a D.S.C. while serving under Walker in Stork. Now he received the DSO but, before the ships sailed again, contracted an illness which put him ashore indefinitely. Filleul found he had been given a double honour, the DSC and, at Walker鈥檚 invitation, he replaced Impey as First Lieutenant. The communications team were not forgotten. Yeoman of Signals E. C. Keyworth and Chief Petty Officer (Telegraphist) T. Teece, already the holders of the D.S.M., both received Bars. On the second evening ashore, John and Wendy Filleul were invited with Alan Burn to dine with the Walkers at 鈥淭he White House鈥�. Eilleen had recovered from her illness and, to her husband鈥檚 obvious relief seemed in cheerful spirits. Gillian and Wendy had both joined the Wrens, so the dinner was an all-naval occasion. Walker, the host, was courteous and flattering. To the amazement of his young officers who were accustomed only to taking his orders and admiring him from a respectful distance, he waited on them with an old-world dignity, personally seeing that they had everything they wanted and not allowing his wife to carry the brunt of Guest Night. It is for such simple gestures that Walker is remembered to-day by his old officers. Towards the end of August, Doenitz resumed his offensive against the North American coastal and Atlantic convoy routes; on the 31st Starling led the Group to sea again, less Woodpecker who had gone to Bristol for a refit. They carried out a series of anti-submarine exercises off Londonderry and set course for the Bay of Biscay on September 6th. Approaching 鈥淢usketry鈥� they came across a small sailing vessel which turned out to be the French fisherman J鈥橳ana Goutreau, from La Rochelle. According to Captain Walker鈥檚 report, 鈥渘o vessel afloat could have conveyed to the most suspicious observer a more peaceful or innocuous impression and this little vessel鈥檚 inoffensive appearance was not belied by my boarding party. 鈥淗owever, a striking force patrol in the Bay has no time to enthuse over the beauty of sail or the ancient calling of fisher men, so after her crew had been taken aboard Woodcock she was scuttled at noon on September 8th. She went down with her mainsail still set and her outsize fishing rods waving plaintively in the air against the sky. This was the nearest the Second Support Group had ever come to shooting an albatross.鈥� At dawn next morning, the Group sighted a dinghy tossing dangerously in a choppy sea and heavy swell. In it were five survivors from the crew of a Liberator which had been attacked by four JU 88s eight days before. The bomber had destroyed one enemy plane before being shot down herself, with the pilot and sergeant co-pilot dead at the controls. Shortly after the remainder of the crew had taken to the dinghy, a U-boat surfaced alongside. The aircrew asked the Germans for some drinking water, to be needed badly in the days ahead, but, in Captain Walker鈥檚 own words: 鈥淭his simple request from a beaten adversary was refused by the gallant U-boat captain in accordance with the accepted traditions of the U-boat Arm.鈥� Only a few hours before being picked up by Wild Goose, two more officers in the dinghy had died of exposure and thirst. Another, a Sergeant Bareham, was seriously wounded and in spite of continuous medical treatment died on September 10th. Seven hours later, Pilot Officer Collins also died of exposure and exhaustion. They were buried at sea from Wild Goose the same day. That evening a signal was received from Commander-in- Chief, Western Approaches, ordering two of the Group to the assistance of a North Atlantic convoy, XE 11. Walker detached Kite and Woodcock while the remaining three sloops continued their patrol to the south. At 2.20 pm on the 15th five JU 88s were sighted flying out of range down the starboard side of the Group and twenty minutes later eight more appeared. This long, thin enemy procession flew completely round the Group, and Walker saw it as a curtain-raiser for more evil events. At 3 pm a Halifax bomber rushed to the scene and stayed close to the Group for the next three hours, obviously seeking protection under their guns. His vast bulk tempted four of what were thought to be enemy planes to attempt a quick thrust low over the water. The Group opened fire but stopped after the first salvo when the 鈥渕arauders鈥� were recognised as Mosquitos, apparently nothing to do with the patrolling JU 88s and wanting no part of them. They swished over the sloops and vanished towards the coast of France. The next arrival in the early evening was a Liberator which came and went abruptly before they had time to establish signalling contact. All this coming and going of friends and enemies kept the interest of the sloops at a high pitch, Walker鈥檚 most of all. He wrote later: 鈥淚t is probably a great many years since most of the officers in Starling had read Alice in Wonderland, but a child of twelve would have had no difficulty in explaining what this great scurrying to and fro brought to mind. All these events seemed to be working up to an Imperial Tea Party indeed, but it is reported regretfully that after all the preparations that had been made by the Group nothing happened for the remainder of the day.鈥�

Continued.....
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