大象传媒

Surgeon Lt. Dick Phillips stepped onto the upper deck and took his first look about for the day. Not much to be seen through the early morning mist but the quiet had been broken by the sound of activity on the foc鈥檚le as the anchor was let go, dropping into the stillness of the quiet bay. H.M.S Avon Vale had arrived after the short overnight trip from Ancona, deep into the Adriatic, in support of the Allied Land Forces fighting the German Army up the leg of Italy, in company with H.M.S Wheatland.

Dick, more commonly known as Doc. was apparently pleased with what he saw 鈥� at a little over 6 feet, he was tall for an Englishman, with fresh complexion and dark hair beneath his uniform cap. The quintessential English gentleman, graduated from St Thomas鈥檚 hospital in London, a member of Lords Taverners and an enthusiastic rugby player before joining the Navy and H.M.S Avon Vale as Medical Officer. He radiated goodwill, he was a great messmate and had become a personal friend to me, to the extent of taking on the onerous duty of godfather of my daughter Caroline when she finally arrived in 1950.

The morning mist was gradually lifting from our anchorage off the island of Ist. We were rewarded with an incredible sight 鈥� this was unbelievable 鈥� it must have rated among the most beautiful places in the world, and no one had bothered to tell me. This had nothing to do with the war, this was pure theatre. As the curtain was raised the stage set for the Sound of Music perhaps or Brigadoon in the Western Isles appeared, with the mist swirling about the islands, the mirror like calm of the water reflecting the backdrop of snow covered mountains rising steeply from the shoreline. This was Dalmatia, full of strange sounding names, Kvarner, Cres, Rab, Zara and so south to Split.

But this was not all 鈥� two caiques, the local craft, appeared round the headland and tied up alongside disembarking the caste straight from the Pirates of Penzance! In real life these were the local fishermen who somehow managed to conceal their boats through three years of war and evade the German occupation of the Yugo Slav mainland. A deputation came aboard perfectly dressed for their role, armed to the teeth with ancient firearms, cutlasses hand grenades hung from their belts 鈥� all of which made us feel very unprepared for action, however they were all smiles and came in friendliness.

The first obstacle soon appeared as we had absolutely no common language but eventually we understood that they wanted the temporary loan of the Doctor to carry out a quick clinic on the neighbouring island. This was agreed to rather reluctantly by the captain and with some misgivings by the Doctor who left soon after with a rather sickly grin on his face and a useful looking bag of first aid equipment.

We must leave the Doctor for the time being as we were now joined by two Coastal Forces M.G.B鈥檚, motor gunboats, which destroyed our idyllic calm as they growled and rumbled alongside with their engines throttled down. These boats provided the local naval presence and were responsible for harassing enemy traffic using the in shore islands to cover their convoys carrying supplies further down the coast to Split. It was their need for reinforcement which resulted in our arrival.

The two destroyer Captains and the MGB skippers met together to plan a suitable response and arrange signals for use after dark. These turned out to be fairly basic 鈥� when challenged by a rifle shot 鈥� we would reply with different coloured lights and so get the all clear as we passed in the night. It worked very well.

By this time the morning had passed and we started to worry about the Doctor. In fact he didn鈥檛 return for some time but we need not have worried as he was in the best of good spirits when he finally climbed back on board. He explained in a rather incoherent fashion that after each consultation he had been rewarded with a shot of slivovitz, the national drink distilled in that part of the world. The diagnoses had not been too difficult, in spite of the language problem, as all the patients had sores and abrasions dressed with moss and leaves or were constipated or both. So he was safely back on board leaving behind much goodwill and the war could proceed.

This part of the Mediterranean was very heavily mined especially around Greece and it was my job to mark these areas on the charts. We were well up the Adriatic Sea to the North East of Ancona 鈥� if we had gone much further we would have been in Venice 鈥� Ancona was the supply base for the Army fighting their way up the Italian leg. German troops held the line strongly some 12 miles to the North until the end of the war in Europe.

Towards evening we got underway and patrolled round the island chain, being duly challenged by the alert Partisans at each island as we passed. Everything is going as planned, the weather is good, the plan is simple and so far the German Airforce seemed unaware of our presence. The MGB鈥檚 are stationed four or five miles to the North and they will warn us if any shipping is heading our way. All we have to do is wait, sheltered behind an island chosen for our ambush position.

Our kingpin in the plan was Daddy Lewis 鈥� Lt. D.A. Lewis RNVR from Wales and his gun crew. He was far and away our oldest inhabitant being well into his thirties and a bank manager in more peaceful times. He was responsible for firing the star shell, timed to burst directly beyond the target, when it arrived, and so illuminate the area for sufficient time to allow the target to be hit by the high explosive shells that would follow. Firing the guns is the job of the Gunnery Officer who is stationed in the Gun Director Tower at the highest point of the ships super structure where he will have a clear view.

Our Gunnery Officer also a Lt. In the RNVR was Michael Joseph, very efficient, though not a typical naval officer and in fact a Jew.
Strangely enough I knew his mother 鈥� or rather knew of her as she starred in one of the many London variety shows 鈥淪trike a new note鈥� if I remember rightly 鈥� this was after I had met Pam, who was very theatrical at that time and with some trepidation we called on this lady in her dressing room after the show. What a shock that was! I had never seen a professionally made up artiste before and was struck dumb. I don鈥檛 think Pam was much better but we gave her greetings from her son.

Back to business and to wait, the hardest part of the night. This is the time to wonder, to think about the future, the action. The enemy is fairly impersonal, more immediate is to wonder how we鈥檒l go. Frankly something usually goes wrong or something unexpected happens. There are about 140 men on board and they all have a special job at Action Stations. My job is to keep record of the ships position and see we don鈥檛 hit an island in this particular situation. The Supply Chief helps on the plot 鈥� he usually arrives without his teeth 鈥� gees. That annoys me 鈥� I can鈥檛 understand what he鈥檚 saying. Why can鈥檛 I remember to tell him before we close up at Action Stations? Now the sun has set and darkness surrounds this magic place. The 1st Lt. Checks no lights are showing and that all is in order on the Upper Deck. His job now is around the after part of the ship away from the Captain and so ready to take over if anything should go amiss on the bridge.

We are waiting now, hidden behind the island and all is quiet. Wheatland is similarly placed not far away. Suddenly the radio comes to life 鈥� 鈥渆nemy in sight鈥� 2DD course 120, speed 10. So we鈥檙e off. We鈥檙e not concerned about the 2DD which means two Destroyers 鈥� rather it means two smaller enemy ships. We know the message is from the MGB鈥檚 who are stationed to the North of us about ten miles away.

Again the radio 鈥� louder this time 鈥� as Wheatland calls. Wheatllands Captain is the Senior Officer and he calls the shots 鈥淔ollow me鈥� is the call and our Captain Ivan Hall orders 鈥淔ull ahead both engines鈥� and takes station 150 yards astern of Wheatland. The range quickly closes with the ships on opposite courses, the enemy course and speed is passed to the Gunnery Control Station and set on the transmitter and the information set on the guns as the Director and guns train round onto the target. The Captain orders open fire 鈥� quickly followed by the sharp report from our For鈥檃rd Gun and the eerie wait for the burst of the star shell. Right on target it lights the sky ahead with the enemy ships hopelessly in our path, unaware of our presence until the star shell was fired.

Immediately every gun opens fire and time has no meaning - a madness takes over, spreading death and destruction, then suddenly a quietness returns as the guns cease fire. I take a few seconds to look outside where the ships are ablaze, how quickly steal takes fire I think.

Our boat is in the water now searching for survivors, how many we wonder, a pitiful half dozen maybe.

So that is the measure of our revenge after years on the defensive guarding convoys, reacting to relentless enemy. Somehow it doesn鈥檛 seem to add up.

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