´óÏó´«Ã½

It was with mixed feelings that I made my way to West Kirby, it was the usual practice for one to have a few days leave prior to reporting to a depot for an overseas posting, but not for me it seemed. I had been engaged for just over a year and during my last leave plans had been discussed for our wedding date. Margie, who was to become my wife, had volunteered for the Waaf and had been to Morecombe for her 'square bashing'. She had been given a preference for the area where she would most like to be posted at the completion of her training and had opted for the 'South Coast', as I was at that time at Westcliff. She had hoped that she might be lucky and be posted somewhere close to me. The very day that she was posted to 296 Squadron, based at Hurn near Christchurch, was the day that I was posted from Westcliff to Cricklade. It took several days before we were able to discover each others where-abouts but we were able to meet on the odd occasion, either in Bournemouth or on a weekend pass or leave at home, when our plans to get married were formulated.
My thoughts now centred on how best to plan the embarkation leave that I should now be entitled to. They were wasted thoughts... I was to get no leave! Neither were the forty odd operators and mechanics that joined me, also without embarkation leave. Within 48 hrs we were kitted out and destined for parts unknown. We were not designated as a unit but just given a draft number. Each was given a shilling, the 'King's shilling' we were told and despatched on 3 toners to Lime street station in Liverpool with strict instructions not to let anyone know where we were going! Of course, we had no idea ourselves. The only clue was the fact that we had been issued with tropical kit complete with 'Pith Helmets’, which were strung, to the outside of our kitbags. It was thought possible that this could be a decoy to fool the enemy and in all probability we were bound for cold climes! We were rather confused when we were told that a coach had been reserved for us in the middle of the night train to Bristol, as it was understood that most drafts sailed from Liverpool or Glasgow. In the very early hours of the following morning the train stopped at Shrewsbury where refreshments were made available from a services canteen on the platform. Hardly had we taken more than a sip of tea than we were ordered back on to the train, leaving one or two behind. We detrained at Bristol, Temple Meads and were greeted by a call over the P.A. system requesting the RAF party bound for Falmouth should report to platform? whatever it was, where a train was awaiting our arrival.
Once aboard the train, it moved off into the night heading towards Falmouth and as dawn was breaking we approached Plymouth. Harry, who was sitting by the window next to me, drew my attention to a house laying back from the railway track and calmly informed me that it was his home and in all probability, his wife would be just about making an early morning cup of tea, so near and yet so far! She could have no idea that her husband was passing the end of her garden on his way overseas at that moment.
We ultimately arrived in Falmouth early on a Sunday morning and were taken to a very small ship moored in the harbour that was camouflaged in bright blue and white. It was in fact the Dover-Ostend ferry; the 'Prince Albert' commandeered by the Royal Navy and converted as a commando ship. It had seen active service in Norway, the Lofoten Isles and the Dieppe raid. (I was to learn many years later that this ship was to see active service in most theatres of war, including Sicily, South of France, and Normandy, prior to serving in the Far East. During this period of service in the Royal Navy, no lives had been lost due to enemy action from the ship's complement.) We were joined on board by a bunch of Marine and Army Commando troops with no badges or signs of rank on their uniforms but were armed with binoculars and handguns. I should add that we were armed with sten guns. It was only a few months or so after the raid on Brunneville when a German radar site had been attacked and parts captured. So what and where were we going? Was the question on everyone’s lips? It should be mentioned here that it was usual for RAF radar crews before being posted overseas at that time, would have previously been sent on a six week battle course at Renscombe Down near Swanage, followed by some embarkation leave. We had not received such treatment; in fact, none of us had received any embarkation leave, let alone 'Battle training'. No one on board had any idea of where we were bound, but being in such company led us to believe that perhaps we might be destined to surprise the enemy at some secret destination.
Once on board we were made welcome by a Naval P.O. who directed us to a mess deck in the bows of the ship where he explained the procedures of living on board one of H.M. Majesty's Men of War. We were issued with brand new hammocks, not yet strung! It was with great amusement that he sat back to watch our efforts to assemble what would be our sleeping quarters for the rest of the trip. The kit comprised of a square of canvas with a row of eyelets at either end, two very long lengths of rope to which were attached many lengths of cord. We were instructed to tie each of the cords to the eyelets and when complete the hammock would have to be slung between rails that were suspended from the deck above our heads. Once the hammock had been assembled it appeared that its entire length would stretch right across the mess deck, which did not meet with the approval of the P.O. who explained that space was limited to about ten feet. Hammocks were at last 'slung', but something was amiss! Instead of the sides being higher than the centre the opposite had been achieved. In our ignorance the strings had been assembled with the shortest in the centre of the fan spread out to the longest on the outer edges. This was corrected and all looked well. Rows of hammocks were strung up and looked very presentable.... BUT... now came the catch! How to get into them? Words cannot describe the chaos that followed! bods were climbing in on one side to descend rapidly from the other. One must remember that these hammocks were located about six feet above the deck and one had to climb on to the mess tables to attack these monsters that would not stay still! It was not long before we learned the art of pulling oneself up on the bars across the deck and lowering oneself into the hammock. It transpired that we were to discover that a hammock with a piece of wood about a foot long fitted at the head and foot ends to keep the sides apart, made a very comfortable bed which was very difficult to evacuate at reveille.
We set sail on the Monday evening straight into a furious storm in the Bay of Biscay. The ship was round bottomed and its lifeboats had been replaced with small landing craft that made her appear top-heavy. She rolled and pitched and tossed as she tried to make headway through the storm. The mess-deck went up and down like an express lift accompanied by the moans and groans emanating from the cocooned hammocks that were being rocked in all directions. One lay in the hammock feeling the sudden descent of many feet then bracing oneself for the sudden upward thrust which sometimes didn't come, but instead it seemed, another downwards plunge would follow. One wondered whether we were attempting a nautical loop the loop? There were many cries of 'Let me die!' or 'stop the boat, I want to get off!’ Came the morning and what a sight greeted us, several buckets were hanging suspended from the rope ends of hammocks, alongside other hammocks, the occupants in terrible trouble! Each time the ship rolled first to port and then to starboard, an enormous wave would roll across the mess deck carrying all before it, canteen tins, kitbags and any other loose item with it as it raced from side to side.
As I had opted to be mess orderly (advice given me by an old navy friend, as it excused one from all other fatigues.) I enquired how many wanted breakfast? only one voice answered 'yes', so I went off to the galley. On route I passed the duty Naval Officer with his escort who asked how things were below? I replied with the question of 'is it customary for so much water to be swilling around the mess deck of a naval ship?’ He took one look and asked why this had not been reported before? I assured him that no one below was in a fit state to report anything. I collected the breakfasts for ten men from the galley! They could only serve sufficient rations for ten servings as they had been dished up! So the other bod and I sat down and scoffed ten eggs and bacon between us, nobody else was at all interested! Strange though it may seem, we two were the only ones on our mess deck who were not physically sick, but I must admit that I had a 'roving head'.
Following the discovery of the water on the mess deck, it was realised that we must have struck something in the night, which had created a serious leak in the bows. The ship, although twelve hours out into the Bay of Biscay made a turn through 180 degrees and headed back for home. As the damage was below our mess deck we were instructed to form a baling party and assured that we would later be relieved by a team of Marines, who would in turn be relieved by the Navy and later by the Army. We were never relieved! It was stated after the event that the RAF party were to be complimented for sticking to the job while the rest lay devastated by 'Mal de Mer'. We baled all the way back to Falmouth with one distraction when an escorting destroyer gave a 'U Boat' alarm. They had made a contact and were making every effort to destroy the U boat with depth charges, whether they had success or not, we never found out but they flew the 'Jolly Roger' pennant to indicate a kill. I must admit that I never realised quite how mountainous the seas can get. Going up on deck I could not believe what I was seeing, waves far higher then our little ship as we ascended one to topple over and descend down the other side, surrounded by walls of sea. I had heard many tales of passages through the Bay by old mariners, but I never realised the enormity of such seas. We had sprung a plate in the bows, so we were told on our return, divers would be going down to make the necessary repairs. We were not allowed to leave the ship apart from a trip on a minesweeper up the river Fal, to get us out of the way of the repair party. We stayed in Falmouth for four days then once more out into the Bay!
This time we set sail from Falmouth in the early evening of the following Saturday in glorious weather. Ships companies are renowned for the generation of false information, known as 'Buzzes'. The 'Buzz' this time was that we were heading for Gibraltar and going at the rate that we were doing, we should reach that destination in 72 hours. We headed into the Bay in the company of two friendly destroyers who it seemed, by the amount of smoke billowing out of their funnels, were making hard going to keep up with us. They were still to be seen the next morning when we awoke to find ourselves in the middle of what appeared to be a huge mirror! Not a ripple on the water save the wash that we were leaving behind. It seemed unbelievable that such a change had taken place from the storm of the previous week. This was the life, this is what every landlubber desires from the ocean. A millpond but of a really deep blue as depicted in a 'Stephen's ink' advertisement. Most of us found a spot to sit and watch the ocean pass by. No sign of any life not even a sea bird until; just on the horizon appeared a small dot, which as it approached was easily recognised as a 'Catalina' flying boat. 'Action stations ' had been sounded as soon as it appeared but the 'stand down' came shortly after some fast speed Morse was being flashed from the aircraft. It spent most of the day circling around us at a safe distance. It was a re-assuring sight to see and to know that to the crew of that aircraft we were just the subjects of probably a monotonous patrol, which they would be anxious to complete, but greatly appreciated by us below. (We did not realise at the time that it was the peak of the 'U boat' campaign in the Battle of the Atlantic).
The following day, Monday was much the same, no aircraft visible to us today although a 'Buzz' went around that we had been shadowed by a 'Condor' of the German air force. At one time there was a little excitement when what appeared to be a periscope was seen disturbing the water about a mile out to starboard, but it was later confirmed as being a spouting whale. Late the following morning a shout of 'Land ahoy' or something similar was heard and over on the port side could be seen a headland, which it was said, would be Cape Finnistaire. So we had crossed the Bay and now were heading towards Gibraltar, which we were to see just before tea. We were told that many minefields protected the entrance to Gibraltar but as we were of shallow draught, we should be able to sail right over them without any problem. We remained on deck as we approached the Straits, watching flying fish as they scuttled before us. It was time for tea, so we retired to the mess deck and had just started the meal when we heard the sound of something scraping along the side of the ship, just half an inch of steel plating lay between us and the source of the noise! No words were spoken! There was no time. As one man we were all on deck with bread and jam in some hands, mugs of tea in others. We all had the same thought when we heard that scraping noise...Mines.... We were wrong, it was in fact a paravane, a part of the minesweeping gear being launched into the sea as a precautionary measure. Someone however had overlooked securing the end of the cable supposedly attaching it to the ship, so it was lost! As was it's partner when launched un-attached! We finished our tea watching the splendour of the narrow strip of water separating the continent of Africa and Europe. As it grew dark, we were amazed to see that there was no blackout in Gibraltar and searchlights from the shore illuminated our ship.

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