´óÏó´«Ã½

Going under the net

So we came to the final exercise of the morning: going under the anti-torpedo net. This was constructed of rings of wire, only a foot across, and intermeshed to form a curtain too thick to cut through, for the compressed air in the bottle would only permit a few cuts before needing replenishment. At the top of these nets there wasn't enough sag between the buoys, or indeed space, for the weight of this type of netting required far more buoys than the wider-spaced diamond-shaped anti-submarine netting. With A-T netting you had either to go round the side, next to the shore - if there was any space there for you to do so underwater - or go under them. Often anti-torpedo netting didn't go down deeper than forty-five feet, for torpedoes ran at between ten and twenty feet in general, If the curtain net had free water below, so much the better; but just in case the net was resting on the bottom, we had to practise lifting it up and scrambling underneath.

So we approached the net, which had been hung in Loch Corrie at a spot to make sure most of it touched bottom. We began looking not far from the shore; there it lay in thick folds at the shallower depths - far too much to permit lifting. But as we cruised along the bottom, rapidly gaining depth, the rungs of wire thinned out. Pearcy thumped me on the shoulder; that meant he thought he could manage to lift the netting at that point. We grabbed the net, and moved down the few feet to the seabed. At this depth underwater, movement was slow, but Pearcy was managing to lift up rung after rung, and gradually an archway formed, high enough for the shield of the jeep, to squeeze under. I lay flat alongside the machine, and gave a small burst on the motor to edge it into the archway; meanwhile I clawed at the bottom with my free hand, and kicked, to make headway. Pearcy stood firm to the far side of the chariot from me. Once under, and the machine through, I pumped out a little to give it negative buoyancy, so that it would remain still on the bottom while I took hold of the rungs to let Pearcy scramble through the arch.

Shortly afterwards we were back on the surface, and signalling OK to the skiff. At once they pointed towards Titania, and crossed arms: all over for the morning. As we rode back, I was reflecting that my ear had given me no trouble; even once, when we had leapt the wire and re-entered at a steep bow-down angle and going down twenty-five feet quite fast, I had managed to keep the pressure equalised. And when we got out and were getting rid of our suits, it was clear that Pearcy felt as relieved and happy as I did at having got going again, and beginning to catch up on all the training we had been obliged to miss.

Handling magnets

Now that we had practised going through, over, under and round nets, it was time to turn to the target itself: the ship. There was only one vessel to use for training: HMS Titania herself. We were going to have to pretend to be attacking and sinking our mother ship, on whom we all depended. We began our preparations by handling magnets. Each unit was made up of two banks of smaller magnets of the kind used in engineering, held together by a flexible structure of metal and rope, to which was attached a thong to fit over the backs of our hands. In this way we could slide our hand under the thong of each magnet, and manoeuvre it like an unwieldy glove. Using these, we would in theory be able to cling to the side of the ship, and move along or down or up, by prizing clear first one unit and reattach it further on in the direction we wanted to go. Then we would free the other, and move it onwards to its next holding position. The purpose of these magnets was to attach the warhead to the ship’s bottom, and — in an actual operation in an enemy harbour — set the clock to have it explode a few hours later. But first we had to get used to handling them underwater.

In diving gear, we went down the shot rope to vent our suits, and then rose to the surface again at the pontoon ladder. From there we handed ourselves round to face the ship’s hull, and were passed two magnets, which we fastened to the ship’s side just below the surface. For this exercise there was no need to work in pairs, so we had life lines attached to one of the straps of our breathing bags, at the shoulder. With my face only a foot from the ship's side, I felt a double tug on my life line: that meant I was to start my explorations. With some effort to start with, I levered one magnet clear, and placed it lower down, about at my waist, then hauled myself downwards, bringing the second magnet down with me as I did so. I was suddenly reminded of a boyhood hero called Spiderman, in a serial story in the boy's paper called 'Adventure'; he had the ability to ascend or descend vertical walls by means of suction pads that he carried with him, and attached to hands and knees to enable to carry out his mysterious exploits. But as I moved lower, I noticed how much more clumsy my actions were than those of Spiderman. Moreover, at each attachment of a magnet, there would be a resounding clang which I thought must be heard right through the messdeck on the inside; so if this were an enemy ship, someone would surely have raised an alarm, and they would be preparing light depth charges to throw over the side to paralyze the intruder.

I worked my way down the side to the bilge keel: on Tites, as on many ships of her vintage, and no doubt even today, there was no centre keel fore and aft, but instead two girders attached to the hull where the vertical of the side angled round to form the horizontal of the ship’s bottom. These two girders, the bilge keels, ran from near the bows to near the stern, but not the whole way, owing to the special curves to form the flare of the bows (to cut through the water) and the rounding of the counter (to ensure a smooth flow of water to the propeller). Once at the bilge keel, I could hold on to the edge of the girder by hand, and didn’t need the magnets to steady myself. I hauled myself along aft, until the keel ended; ahead of me I could see the ship's counter, and dimly the copper glint of the enormous screw. Even on as homely a vessel as Tites, the screw could look lethal … capable of mincing anyone in its path!

But my business was not so much at the stern as amidships, or a little aft of there. We had been told to make our way with magnets to the spot under the ship where the outlet from the engineroom was located. We should be able to tell its position partly by the engineroom noises, and partly by the slightly higher water temperature round it. So I slid my hands inside the magnet thongs again, and swung under the bilge keel, on to the flat or almost flat underside of the ship. My very first magnet hold almost ended in an accident, for as I swung under, the magnet failed to grasp the metal, and its weight threatened to carry me down. The other magnet held me to the bilge keel; I understood the value of the lifeline, for we had been told not to let go of the magnets as they were in short supply, and constituted an essential part of our equipment for attack. So I scraped off the slime and algae from the ship's bottom and tried to re-engage the magnet once more. This time it held, and I swung the second magnet off the bilge keel so as to use it to scrape another patch clear for holding.

Not far off I could see another diver having similar trouble manoeuvering himself along under the ship; by the bubbles from his bag I could see he was finding it as much of an effort as I was. Gradually I moved over towards the starboard side, and then forward ten to fifteen yards. Two other divers were hanging there; when I came close to them, they pointed upwards, then gave the thumbs up. At the same moment I noticed the water had become distinctly warmer on my hands. This must be the engineroom outlet. There was some kind of structure in the hull, and I think I remember a grating; I thought it would be possible to tie an explosive warhead into position, without using the magnets, if this were to prove similar in an enemy target, by passing a cord through the grating and lashing the warhead fast to it.

I had now identified the target spot, more by temperature than by sound; underwater, sound carries so well and far that comparisons are less accurate. But we had also been told to explore the ship's hull, thoroughly, and so I took myself further forward, using the starboard bilge keel for easy purchase, until the engineroom noises had become much weaker, and the clanking in the hull told me I must be under the forward well-deck. Looking up the ship's side, I could just make out the rounded lines of the drifter alongside; for a moment the idea of clambering around under hull presented itself, but I dismissed it at once, for that vessel was made of wood. I had no means of gaining purchase on her smooth and slippery sides. So I slid further forward, till the bilge keel ended, and then used the magnets to work right under the flare, and to the very forepeak. Above me, and to either side, I could make out the links of the anchor cables curving down towards the seabed. From the bows, I made my way under the ship using the magnets, past the noisy clanking of the cranes, under the hum of the engine room, and finally out to the counter itself, right out to the screw. As I held one its blades, I thought again of being sucked in and sliced up. Death would be swift under those cutting edges, that power …

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.