Book Two

"DEATH OF A SHIP!"

by HARRY P. HOWARD

It was on my eighteenth birthday that I decided I had to get away. Here I was working seven to five, six days a week as a paint sprayer. If I didn't get out soon the war would pass me band I would be doing the same job till was sixty-five and drawing my old age pension! What was there to look forward to? Besides, most of my friends were joining the forces and I could not be left behind I must get out!

I applied to join the Royal Navy and then had to wait till I was called to go before the medical board. I went home every night and asked my mam if there was a letter for me: then one night she said there was and that it was on the sideboard. I opened it: I had to report in a couple of days. I took time off work. This is it, no time to turn back now!

My call up papers carne after a couple of weeks along with my travel warrant to a Royal Navel barracks, down south, called Chatham. I also received the 'King's Shilling' in the form of a postal order. So, what should l do with it-? The thought come to me, 'Should I buy, a block of flats? Or a sea-going yacht?' But no I took the easy way out and bought myself' a pint of bitter!

I remember sitting in a carriage on the train in Paragon Station (Hull) with my girlfriend Ethel, gently holding hands; the time was approaching for leaving. I didn't feel like going: I was a bit worried, a bit scared and I had never been far from home before and I was on my own! It was a long way to go. I felt like crying I wanted my main! God! this a as no way to carry on! I must pull myself together. I am going to do my best for my King and Country maybe win a medal... Probably Win the V. C'.! Anything was better than being in that factory

Early morning arrived too soon. The double doors suddenly banged open! I opened my eyes and there in the doorway stood a chief petty officer.

"Wakey, wakey!" he yelled. "Hands off cocks! On socks! Lets have you lot outside!" We tumbled out. My lift working for King and Country had begun!

Another medical. "Open your mouth!" "Read that chart!" "Deep breaths." The MO grabbed hold of me, "turn your head and cough." "Turn round and spread your legs!" "Bend over!" Twenty young men, all naked, except the MO. What a sight! Next we were kitted out in: a square-rigged uniform, two white shirts, black tie, boots, oilskins, sea boots, shaving gear, toothbrush and a sea bag. I began to feel better now, the tension had gone. I looked good in uniform .... not as good as a rear admiral .... but nearly! I had my own bunk and three good meals a day. I never had three meals as good as this! Never! There were twenty young lads from all over the UK, including two from Hull and one from Goole. One of the lads from Hull was named Lesley Dick (I met his brother later on), we soon became friends, talking and laughing. Each group had its own comedian in its midst we had a couple!

We stayed a week at Chatham, just getting used to the navy ways, then with all our gear we boarded a navy truck. We went further up the coast to Gravesend to HMS Gordon, a merchant navy establishment under the supervision of the Royal Navy. Here a captain and four lieutenants had the command with twelve petty officers, each with a class to teach seamanship to. Our petty officer was a Londoner named Hart, a good officer maybe, but not strict enough. These officers, I thought, had been in some kind of engagement with the enemy and had put ashore to recuperate. Our chief liked to take us marching on the moors, stand us at ease, then get his fags out. Maybe they all did that, I don't know but ours did. When training, we would lower the navy cutter in the Thames and row against the tide with the chief sitting in the stern yelling and screaming and swearing at us. 1 didn't know the navy swore like that, but it made us laugh. We loved it! It was great! The shooting range was good: I hit the target and didn't shoot anyone! We did rope splicing, knots, reading a compass, watch keeping and sentry duty. How did I look standing at the gate: rifle and bayonet, challenging everything and anything coming towards me?

We had swimming lessons; the instructor shouting, "You lot that can swim get in the deep end! You other lot in at the shallow end!" I don't know how he could teach them to swim in one hour but he did, while I gave it plenty of splash in the deep end. I first learned to swim in a wide drain, my brother George made me swim! He threw me in the water headfirst! It wasn't a nice place to swim as local people were known to throw dead dogs and cats into the water, and things floated past as you swam. The drain had to do as we hadn't the money to go to the swimming baths.

I let myself down badly one night. It was our shore leave and shore leave is two boats a night, but it isn't a boat, it is just outside the gates in the town. I was going ashore on the four-thirty boat with my friends to the pictures. I stood to attention: uniform smart, clean white shirt. The duty officer looked at me. "Have you shaved today?" he asked.

"No. Sir!" I replied, "I don't shave."

"You do from now on! Shore leave refused! Go back and shave!" I felt so ashamed. Please, someone lend me a cut-throat razor!

After six weeks we were allowed a weekend pass and five of us decided to go to London and stay at the 'Union Jack' club. Our chief has a pass too; he looks smart in his 'number ones' with his three gold stripes on his arms. He shouts as we pass. "You be back on Sunday night and don't get 'pissed-up'!" to which Jock replied, "You too, chief!" and grinned. The chief retorted, "Cheeky Scots git!"

Three months later

it's time to leave the school, the navy says they can't teach us anymore. We will have to take an exam and pass as either an ordinary seaman or an a senior ordinary seaman, by a merchant navy mariner. I sit there and answer all his questions. I must concentrate and Mink, I don't want to fail now It seems like hours, but it is only a few minutes, then it ends. The exam is finished and I go outside to mingle with the other lads and await the results. Later on the chief comes with the results, he shouts my Name and I have passed. I have passed? I have passed! I can't believe it! I'm not a 'dummy' after all lama SENIOR ORDINARY SEAMAN I am very happy and proud that I have done well. That night my friends and I went ashore in Gravesend for our last night together and have a few beers.

It's time to leave now; we have our posting, our travel warrant and our bit of money. I have been lucky: I'm posted to my hometown of Hull with Lesley Dick. We say our goodbyes to the chief; he has been one of the best! He will take his leave then start all over again with another new class.

After a few days leave with Ethel and my family, I report to the posterngate shipping office and am put on the pool. I am now on pay: two pounds ten shillings a week. I think this is good, as my father only earns two pounds fifteen shillings a week at the tin works and I am only eighteen years old. I report to the pool shipping office twice a week, if I am not wanted, my card is stamped and that's that.

I'm in my civvies now. The office has given me my merchant navy badge and I put it in my lapel. I am very proud to wear it. This badge wasn't given to merchant seamen at one time, but some nasty people thought that if a man wasn't wearing a uniform he was a coward. He would be called a 'yellow bastard' and in some cases be given a white feather! So now we wear our badges with pride and people noticed it and were proud of the wearer.

Britain was going through a U-boat blockade now and was relying on the merchant navy and the Royal Navy to get the convoys through, but dozens of ships were being sunk and hundreds of seamen being killed in the cause for freedom. However, in my few hectic war years at sea, I never carne across one man who called it a day, whether his ship was full of high octane fuel or loaded with ammunition, he would look at his silver badge and that drove him on. He signed his forms informing the office of his next of kin, he packed his sea bag and he sailed with the tide.

Thursday morning was pay-day! If we did not have a ship some of us went across the road for a cup of tea in the 'Merchant Navy Club'. Some went above 'Burtons' in the 'Merchant Navy House' for a meal. I remember the Thursday morning I was outside the shipping pool office with a group of the lads after being paid, when down the street came the notorious Eva Smith! Eva had come from a well-to-do family, but had now fallen by the wayside. No one would dare give her a second glance in the street or she would 'round' on them with a fiery tongue and strong language. "Eva's coming," whispered one.

"Spare a penny for a cup of tea, sailor?"

"Yes, here you are Eva. "

"Thank you sailor." And to our group, the same sailor said, "Piss off Eva. " That did it!

"You didn't say that last night when you used my body, you bastard!" She screamed at him and walked away. He was a tough, hardened seaman, but he had a very red face that morning!

A ship had come in and most of the crew had paid off'. This could be done if she reached a UK Port, but now it was signing anew crew on for another voyage. Men have this option to sign on again, or sign off. If they sign off they are entitled to two days leave per month of their voyage, then go back on the pool and wait for another ship. It all depends on the ship, the officers, the accommodation, the food or the men themselves.

My card is taken off me. I have to see the MO for a medical again. He says 1 am OK. Now I have to let them know my next of kin and leave my mother a money allotment which she can draw every two-weeks. I sign on the ship, the 'SS King Edward' as Ordinary Seaman Howard and go home to pack my gear. I tell my mother I have to go away. She is upset and I tell her not to worry, but how can I console her? Mothers always worry!

In the morning myself and my sea bag arrive at the King George Dock, Hedon Road, where the ship is lying. At the dock gate is a burly policeman with a pistol on his thigh. He wants to see my papers. "Yes," he says, giving me directions where the ship is. "Best of luck son," he says.

I find the ship she looks old, probably laid down in the early twenties. It has two well decks, plenty of ladders to climb to the poop deck, the boat deck, the bridge and the bows. Over the stern 'The Red Duster', the merchant navy flag; looking a bit worn just hangs limply. I am told later the ship is about three thousand tons with a speed of seven knots (about eight and a quarter miles per hour).

I find the chief officer, the first mate, in the wardroom with the other officers. "Ordinary Seaman Howard, reporting. Sir!"

"Very well, Howard. Find your way to the forecastle." "Aye, aye. Sir!" I go to the stern.

The ship's decks are covered with rubbish. She had brought in a cargo of seed and now the decks were covered with the stuff; along with clinkers and coal from the stoke hold, hatch covers, blocks and tackle, ropes and wires, mixed with the steward's 'throw-outs'. It looked a bit of a mess! I find my way aft. Our quarters are on the starboard side, the stokers' port side (left) divided by a steel partition. To get in I stride over the coming about a foot high. This is to stop seas washing into our quarters. Above us, on the poop deck, is our only protection against a U-boat attack, an antiquated first world war gun which fires a four-inch shell. I'm sure the gunners who fired it had their hearts in their mouths in case it ever blew back on them.

On the left as I go in is the washroom, a cold place with a toilet with no seat and a grubby washbasin. No hot water here! We will have to take a bucket down to the engine room or get washed in cold water. I make my way into the mess-room, most of the deck hands are here, we say hello to each other and I put my gear on an empty bunk.

One of the able-bodied seamen) is Louie Dick, brother of Lesley. We are joined by the boson, another Hull man, whom some of the lads already knew. He seems OK. There are eight ABs and two OS (ordinary seamen), the other ordinary seaman is Jimmy Lister, a married man with two children. I outranked Jimmy, which isn't right as Jimmy had been going to sea for a couple of years and could leave me standing in seamanship, but it didn't bother him. He was a great guy and we became very good friends.

Our forecastle consisted of: ten bunks in two tiers, lockers and along table with a form on each side. In one corner stood our 'bogey', a fire: a round cast iron object about two and a half feet high with a round lid which lifted off to put coal in. All coal had to be brought up from the stoke hold.

Each of us had a pass which took us through the dock gates, enabling us to go home every night. Our day began at eight a. m. and we went onboard early for our breakfast.

The 'peggy' brought our meals to the mess, in closed pans, from the galley and when we had finished, took them back; there the galley boy cleaned them ready for the next meal. The 'peggy' also cleaned the forecastle, brought coal for the 'bogey' and mashed our tea, which we called 'smok-o'. This was his list of jobs for the day whilst we were in port. All the sailors took turns to be 'peggy' from the oldest to the youngest. No one ever explained why a 'peggy' was so called and I never asked.

Our boson always reported to the first mate, before breakfast, for his orders of the day. While we are laid along side we clean the ship and get her ready for sea. One day the bosun shouted down to us from the dockside to come up for a smoke and a cup of tea. We all went aft for a welcome break. It's quite an easy going ship, nobody dashing around yelling orders.

I was sitting next to Jimmy Dolan, a young AB, when one of his mates from a previous ship came aboard to see him. He sat there laughing and joking drinking his tea, when he suddenly looked at Jimmy and said, "You want to get off this ship, Jim!"

Jim looked startled and said, "What are you talking about. I've only just signed on!"

His ex-shipmate stared at him intensely and said, "I'm telling you Jim, get off her because she isn't coming back!" Jim looked stunned and told him not to talk so bloody daft. My thoughts were racing 'did this bloke know something we didn't?'

Two days later it was my turn to do the night watch. I had to do my days work and then go back for 10 p.m., but I got the next day off. My cousin Frank was home on leave so with his girlfriend, Cathy Snow, Ethel and I went for a drink to the 'Blue Heaven' pub in Southcoates Lane. I had to leave the party early as I had to return to my ship. Frank and I never got chance to sail together Frank was killed when his ship, the 'SS Lulworth Hill', was torpedoed while sailing alone in the South Atlantic Ocean. The U-boat surfaced and rammed the lifeboat throwing all the surviving men into the sea among the savage sharks. Only two men survived after spending fifty days on a raft, they were: Mr Cooke and Mr Armitage.I reported to the officer on watch at 9.30 a. m.. "Well young Howard," he said. "Lets hope it keeps quiet all our watch." I had a tour round the decks checking mooring lines and wires. Everything seemed all right. Ships in dock always had a night watchman, the reason being, if enemy bombers set fire to the docks the men had a good chance of moving the ships to a safer place.

I felt very proud to be part of this ship. I was a young lad, nearly nineteen, but I was doing a man's job. About midnight I made my way to the galley to cook my meal, always bacon and eggs which the chief steward left out for the men on duty. I took it aft to the forecastle with a cup of tea. After finishing my meal, I laid on my bunk and read a book a sea story of course ....! I hadn't been reading long when suddenly the cabin began to feel very cold. I looked at the bogey', I had just filled it with coal and it was burning brightly but this cold damp feeling was entering the forecastle! It wasn't just the cold it was an unearthly clammy feeling which seemed to be reaching out and taking the whole cabin in its hands. It was a very frightening experience and I knew I had to get out on deck. I sat on a hatch cover and lit a cigarette my hands were trembling... What the hell could it be? I knew something was there but what?.

I took another turn round the deck and called in the galley for a warm. There the cockroaches were feeling their way up and down the bulk heads. These horrible big brown things with long legs and longer feelers, always made me shudder! It was even worse when they were about to deliver their young! I wonder how many times they have dropped in our soup or on our dinner! My stomach turns over every time I think about them.

After awhile I went back to the forecastle. It was lovely and warm now, but I couldn't help wondering what it was that had come into the cabin and given me such a scare.

The lads came back on board in the morning to do their day's work. I didn't say anything to them about the night's events they would probably have laughed at me any way. I went home to bed and later met Ethel from work, but I couldn't forget what had happened. There was something there! I knew it! Maybe Jim's friend was right! Maybe he did know something!

The next day we start preparing for sea, we are carrying no cargo and we are going to New York in ballast. We are busy battening down our hatches, lowering derricks and locking them in clamps. Our stores have come aboard. The lifeboats have been checked and we move ship to fill our bunkers with coal, and our tanks are filled with water. The D.E.M's gunners have come aboard to man the four-inch gun and we are told it's our last night ashore, the ship will sail on the noon tide.

I meet Ethel and we go down to the 'Lockwood Arms' with my parents. We don't say much as we are too full of our own thoughts. Later on I take Ethel home and stand at the door. I hold her tight and kiss her gently. I don't want to leave her she is crying softly. I try to console her by saying, "I won't be away long, love." We have a last kiss and I turn and walk away my heart is heavy .... I hear her close the door as I walk down the street.

On board the next day the final preparations are being carried out. The watches are set, three men to a watch: two hours at the ship's wheel, one hour lookout, one hour standby. The last man on standby calls the next watch and the bridge officer. The last man going off duty at 7 a. m. calls the cooks and stewards. I wasn't on watch, being a new boy, I was to work with the bosun on days. The total number of our crew was about forty. Its time to go now. Half the deck hands go forward to the bows with the first mate, I go aft with the second officer and the rest of the crew. An AB is at the wheel, our ropes are singled up now and the pilot is aboard. A tug has a towrope attached to our bows. The captain shouts, "Let go fore-ward! Let go aft!" and we slip our lines and leave the side of our homeport. The tug is pulling and pushing till we are both going through the lock gates. Some workers, standing on the dock, shout, "Good luck, skipper! Good luck, lads!" As we enter the Humber the pilot takes over and is now number one; it is his job to take us right to the river mouth. He knows this stretch of water like the back of his hand. He orders the helmsman to steer degrees to port or starboard; the bridge officers can relax for awhile. The tug has cast off now and with a sharp blast on its whistle as a goodbye, it turns and heads back to port. We begin to dump the clinkers and ashes over the side, any thing that will sink; the rest will stay on deck till we clear the land.

The bosun orders us to swing the lifeboats out and remove the covers, as we are moving down river. We pull them up by the falls (ropes and blocks) and drop the holding chocks to the deck then swing the boats out on their davits. A couple of bellybands under the lifeboats back are secured to the deck. One good smack on the locking ring can release these and the boats are ready for lowering. An AB, one on either rope falls whilst sitting on the deck with his feet on the bollard bracing himself, can pay the rope out slowly, if he lose control the boat is lost; that's why this job is left to the sailors and deck crew.

The pilot leaves us at the mouth of the Humber. He has a struggle getting down the pilot ladder with his brief case in his hand. He shouts good luck as he reaches his waiting launch. His boat, bobbing up and down in the heavy North Sea swell, slowly leaves the ship's side and steers towards Spurn Point. We pull the pilot's ladder up. Our off watch men have gone to the forecastle now to rest and I feel like joining them. I don't feel so good, I feel ill: my stomach is jumping up and down, my headaches. I tell the bosun I don't feel well and can I go and lie on my bunk. "No you bloody well can't!" he says. "You stay on deck with me!"

"But I'm dying!" I tell him. "No you are not, you only think you are. This is the only way to beat this!" he said. I think, 'You rotten sod! You're mam and dad can't have been married!' But I stay on deck working, with him watching me. After a while I realise he is right. I learn to sway when the ship rolls; it is all in the mind, though I still have a headache, I don't feel sick now. I am never seasick.

We join a convoy coming up from the South. A destroyer, our escort, dashing backwards and forwards, moving at speed, it's bows throwing the water high, its tannoy blaring dance band music out. What a beautiful sight! This is the ROYAL NAVY! Admiral Donitz stands no chance against men like these.

We are issued with our life jackets. These jackets are like thick comfortable waistcoats with a red light at the shoulder and a whistle. These are better than the old ones which were filled with blocks of kapok and had a tendency to come up under mens' chins and break their necks as they jumped from the sinking ship. Our new jackets we used as a pillow; they are never far away from us!

The 'Bond' (like a shop) is open for things we need; I buy a half pound of cigarette tobacco for one shilling and sixpence. We are issued with a tin of condensed milk which has to last us two weeks. We punch a small hole in each side of the can and gently blow through one hole blowing the milk onto a spoon at the other hole.

Merchant navy men never undress at sea. We sleep in jeans and jerseys with our life jackets under our heads. The port holes are covered by a dead light, the lights are never switched off. The glare is eased a little by a towel draped over the bar on the bunk.

Ships join the convoy from Sunderland and Newcastle and all other ports, all heading North to Scotland. There they will join other convoys and go wherever they are needed. We sail to Loch Ewe and then on to Obey and there drop anchor. This is where the ship waits until a convoy is formed for our trip across the Western Ocean and the unknown. How did I feel at this moment? . probably afraid, excited and a little nervous. I was nineteen now, but I was a man. I was part of the ship's crew. I was here to do my duty for my country, a country I loved dearly. I was a Hull lad from Yorkshire where we play rugby league and cricket and we don't lie down that easy. Not bloody likely.

So sod you, Hitler!

It's quiet now in the harbour. There are about thirty ships here gently swinging around their anchor chains, to meet the incoming and outgoing tides. We hoist a small riding light which shows our position while at anchor. The captains are all going ashore now for the conference and to meet the commodore and the Royal Navy captains who will be our escorts. The launch arrives and our captain and 'Sparks', the wireless operator, go down the ladder; it seems funny but the captains always go to conferences in civvies and not their four-ringed gold jackets, which look better. Maybe an old mac and a trilby will do. We wait, not for long. The captain comes back aboard with his secret papers, straight into his wardroom, closely followed by all his officers, for their own conference.

We are ready! The first mate goes to the forecastle-head with 'Chippy', our carpenter, who will work the windlass to bring up the anchor. 'Chippy' opens the valves and the steam arrives with a clatter and a bang, an AB stands by with a high powered hose pipe to wash the silt and mud off the chain and anchor as it appears.

"Bring her up, Mister Mate!" the captain shouts.

"Bring her up 'Chippy'!" The mate relays the order.

"Aye, aye. Sir!" says 'Chippy' and with a bang, a hiss and a rattle, the windlass takes the strain and up she comes. The AB plays the hose pipe onto the chain and as the anchor appears above the water line, the mate orders 'Chippy' to "...vast heaving" while the AB can give the anchor a good clean down. At the same time he shouts to the bridge, "All clear. Sir!"

The telegraph is rung down from the bridge to the engine room, "Standby! Slow ahead!" The engine room replies quickly and the water seems to erupt under the counter (stern). As the propeller begins it's revolutions 'Chippy' brings the hook up and clamps the chain. Now the engine has started it won't stop until we reach Brooklyn, New York.

The convoy is moving out of the bay now and all the ships are allotted their place and number. We are leading ship on the right outside column, astern of us is a Swedish ship, a neutral, painted a light blue colour with big Swedish flags painted on its sides. Our ship is painted s dull grey colour as all British ships are during wartime. The neutral ships can join a convoy, if they feel safer to do so, as U-boats are sinking anything on the water. The commodore, chief of the lot, is in the middle of the whole convoy. He is probably a rear admiral brought out of retirement to do convoy duties. The two R. N. Signallers on his ship use aldis lamps and signal flags to communicate with us. Everything is working smoothly up to now. The weather is getting colder and the convoy is making good progress. The convoy is governed by the slowest ship; ours can make about seven and a half knots with a strong wind and someone behind pushing.

Our RN escort is one destroyer, two corvettes and two deep-sea armed trawlers, as well as two rescue ships (body snatches') who follow the convoy. The trawlers are armed with a 'twelve-pounder' forward and a bofors gun aft, as well as a stern full of depth charges.

The leading ship steers by the compass reading, the ships in column follow the ship ahead and at night, follow a blue light shown on the stern. The bridge officer is in constant touch with the engine room for more or less revolutions as the speed of the convoy changes. About seven days out, the bosun, one of the ABs and myself were working on the foredeck putting wires, ropes and blocks in the forepeak when the alarm bells rang, way over on the starboard beam was a plane. The destroyer raced across our bows hoping to get a shot in but he hadn't much hope. Darkness came down again and after awhile it became quiet. I think everyone breathed a sigh of relief; all we could hear was the ship's engines pounding away. We felt better now maybe the navy had driven them away. The captain come into the wheelhouse and said, "You can go below now Howard, everything seems quiet." "Aye, aye. Sir!" I replied and left the bridge.

I went along the afterdeck, it was very dark. I had that feeling that someone was watching me, maybe through a periscope; it was cold but I had a sweat on. I reached the forecastle and went inside. The bosun was sat against the bogey keeping warm. I couldn't understand him being there as his cabin, together with 'Chippy', was amidships, both being petty officers. Maybe he just wanted to be with his own sailors. "What's it like up there, Harry?" I told him it was quiet and that the captain had sent me down. I took my lifejacket off and laid it on my bunk, picked up my book and sat opposite the bosun; but I couldn't read it, I just couldn't! The words didn't make sense, I was too nervous!

An AS came in, it was Louie Dick. "It's bloody cold out there, I'm going to get my head down!" he said, and he climbed into his top bunk. That was where Louie died a few minutes later there was a terrific explosion. The ship lurched to one side. The lights went out and the 'bogey' shot up in the air throwing live coals all over! Water came pouring in from the hatch on the poop deck. I tried to grab my life jacket, but 1 couldn't find it. I had to get out, and ran down the short passage to the deck. "Don't panic!" shouts the bosun. I never saw the bosun again he died in the forecastle. As I struggled to the outside-deck the force of the water knocked me down. I tried to crawl on my hands and knees and got partly over the coaming, but the steel door on the outside-deck had come off its hook, and with the force of the water behind, it closed, trapping my left wrist and ankle. I was trapped underwater hanging over the coaming. I struggled to free myself knowing I was going to die if I didn't get out! The pressure of the water eased as it met from both directions; the forecastle must be full now. I managed to get free and shot to the surface gasping for breath!

It was still snowing when I surfaced. I shouted for help and tried to swim. To my left, more than half the ship was still afloat, very low in the water. Then with a shattering explosion it blew up as the U-boat captain put another 'fish' into her. The stench of cordite was very strong! I paddled around until I found a life raft and grabbed hold of it with my good hand. Then a lifeboat came alongside and one of our gunners grabbed hold of me and pulled me onto the raft and dumped me into the bottom of the lifeboat. I didn't feel very well! I had swallowed too much sea water and I was hurting a lot now. The palm of my hand had split in two and was bleeding badly; someone put a bandage on it. My ankle was hurting and I couldn't get my sea boot off so someone cut it off with his knife. My ankle had swollen up like a small football but it wasn't bleeding and it wasn't broken but bloody hell it hurt!

The convoy had gone now, ships don't stop; it would be stupid and suicide to stop for anyone. They try to close up, get close to each other; stragglers are easy pickings! Our convoy had been a slow one anyway. These Atlantic-class U-boats can shadow till dark then move in for the kill at seventeen knots and pick out anything they want.

We were in the life boat a few hours when two ships appeared on the horizon, coming towards us at full speed. The captain turned to his officers and said, "These could be German surface raiders. I want you to take your jackets off and drop then over the side. The Germans may take officers prisoner and leave these men on their own and I don't want that to happen!" All four agreed and four gold-braided jackets were put over the side. As the ships came closer we could see one was a destroyer, the other a rescue ship! The rescue ship came closer and stopped engines. The destroyer cut its speed and began a large circle around us; U-boats have been known to lie under a life boat just waiting for an easy target, The navy was aware of this and was not going to let it happen. The body snatches' dropped a cargo net over the side for us to scramble up. I was the last one up, but I couldn't make it, so one of the crew came down to help me. One of the crew shouted, "Shall we sink the lifeboat. Sir?!" The captain said, "No, let it go! Maybe someone out there can make use of it." So it was let go and slowly drifted away under the stern.

The ship was packed with rescued seaman; the U-boats must have made a lot of kills. We made our way down the narrow companion way to the te-ween decks. I lay on top of the hatch I hurt! My hand and ankle were throbbing painfully and I was deadbeat. I was still soaking wet and had only one sea boot on. The alarm bells rang again for another attack. Men scrambled about in panic, shoving and pushing to get out and on the boat-deck. I didn't think I could make it, so I lay where I was.I was on my own. I thought to myself, 'If you want me this time, come and bloody get me!'

The ship had rejoined the convoy now and taken up its position astern ready to pick up more survivors if needed; the thought had crossed my mind, that if we were torpedoed, a hell of a lot of men were going to die! There weren't many depth charges being dropped now, maybe the navy had used them all up.

Our captain came down to see the men, his name was Tillup. He was a fine man, a good officer, very calm under fire, (I sailed with him again on the Fort Aklavik). He came dowm and asked how I was. "Not bad," I replied, "but it is a bit painful. I don't think I could get on the deck very quickly."

"All right, lets go and see the medical officer," he said, as he stood me up. He helped me up the companionway and along the deck to the ship's doctor. He knocked and went in. The medic was busy in his after cabin. He came out and the captain said, "I want you to see to my lad, get him a bunk and see to his injuries." The doctor said he could help me as the injuries were concerned, but he didn't think I would want the only bunk available.

He bandaged my hand and leg and when he had finished, the captain said, "Right, lets look at this bunk!" We went through the door. The doctor was right what a terrible sight! On the table was a man well he looked like a man, he was unconscious but he was crying and moaning in his pain. He was naked and he hadn't any skin on his body; just one mass of weeping red meat! He had been a stoker when the torpedo hit his ship and the boilers had burst pouring boiling water all over him, taking all his skin off. I will never forget that terrible sight as long as I live! He would never make it. I just hoped the doctor would give him something to put him out of his misery, maybe he did I don't know.

Captain Tillup agreed I couldn't stay there and said, "Let's go and find the chief steward." We found him amidships. "Find this lad some shoes and a blanket!" he said. The chief steward said he could do that and he helped me backup onto the boat-deck. It was warmer there, on top of the engine room. "Try and make yourself comfortable up here," said the chief. "And if we do get hit, make for that life boat." He pointed to a boat just a few feet away. I thanked him and settled down under my blanket. I had my tin plate and mug with me and after a while made my way down to the galley for something to eat and drink, clutching my blanket around me. when I had finished, I made my way to the boat deck. Our convoy was still being attacked: we thought we must have lost over a third of our ships. Our destroyer had been hit and went limping back to the UK.

On the fourth day of the U-boat attacks a line of ships appeared on the horizon, maybe twenty or more. We knew if these were surface raiders that we stood no chance, but it wasn't. these ships were American cruisers and destroyers and they spread out, completely surrounding what was left of the convoy and down the middle came a cruiser with a military band playing on the foredeck. Our saviours! Only the Americans could put on a show like that, but we were extremely grateful for there help! A lot of men were injured on the rescue ship, a lot very frightened! This ship was full of merchant seamen who had tried there best for their country but the enemy had been too strong. Our ships which were slow and poorly armed with too few escorts, had little chance against the killer machines of Admiral Donitz.... But one day we would take the offensive. We would win the war at sea. The merchant navy would still fly its ' Red Duster', the Royal Navy would see to that!

The captain of the rescue ship asked permission to leave the convoy and make haste for Halifax, as he had wounded on board and his stores where very low. The water didn't taste that good either. Permission was granted and with a destroyer on port and starboard, we soon left the convoy and put on speed. The men felt a lot safer now and were more at ease. On reaching Halifax, we slipped through the anti U-boat defences and the two destroyers left at speed and began to drop depth charges maybe they had found something outside the boom.

The ship came alongside and made fast; doctors and nurses came onboard to take care of the sick and wounded. They cleaned and bandaged my my hand and ankle and asked me if I wanted to go to hospital. I said, " no." I wanted to stay with my ship mates. The Red Cross came onboard with cigarettes, sweets, clean clothes, writing paper, shaving gear and other nice things. Reporters wanted to know and write about the four days of action we had been in: we think half our ships had been sunk, a lot of brave men had died. After all that we were taken by bus to a merchant navy hostel. It was lovely to lay in a clean bed.....no noise.....no guns! The Canadian people were marvellous toward us, letting us have money and later on clothing us.

 A few days later another convoy came in. On it was Leslie Dick, brother to Louie. He wanted to know where Louie was, the poor lad was devastated when told he hadn't made it. How could one console him? I could have cried with him. Leslie was hoping to meet up with his brother and have a few hours with him before risking the North Atlantic again.

Later on, our captain came to see us to ask how we were. He told us he had been ordered to go to Vancouver on the other side of Canada, to take command of another ship. He was signing another crew and would any of us wish to go with him? Every one of us said yes. I don't think any of us liked the idea of going across the Atlantic just yet!

We had our orders. We said goodbye to the kind people who had looked after us and boarded a train to Montreal. In Montreal we stayed one night in a hotel; it was cold in the town with a lot of snow and ice. We were told that there was nine inches on ice on the St. Lawrence River. Next day we took the train to Vancouver. The ship's crew was assigned the last carriage where we could sit on a small platform outside to watch Canada roll by. We had a black porter who made our beds up, they had curtains to pull across. He thought it was great to be with us and listen to our stories and jokes. The officers shared a different carriage. We travelled through all the big towns and into the Indian Territories, over the Rockies to Vancouver. It took us five and half days and was a fantastic journey. In Vancouver it was like spring. The city is beautiful! A bus took us to a hostel for a few days; then came the day to join our new ship. She was a new ship called Fort Aklavik* loading thousands of tons of redwood and a deck cargo about eight feet high. Our forecastle was different from the King Edward: three cabins for four men. A mess-deck top side with tables and chairs very nice!

I was put on watch with Jimmy Dolan and another AB. We left Vancouver fully loaded but only after going into dry dock because we damaged a side plate going down river. We sailed alone down the west coast of Canada and America with the weather getting warmer each day. At the entrance to the Panama Canal, American marines come aboard fully armed with machine guns and took overall the vital parts of the ship. Even our guns were taken over. After sailing through the locks of the canal the marines went ashore and two FBI agents came aboard (I never did find out why).

We sailed to Cuba and anchored to wait for a convoy to New York. The weather was hot, the water was clear and we thought it would be a good idea to go for a swim off the ship's side. One of the FBI agents said, "I wouldn't do that buddy, these waters are full of barracuda and they snap at anything that dangles" so that was the end of our swim.

We joined our convoy to New York, sailing down the Hudson River and seeing the Statue of Liberty for the first time, off our port side. It was a truly magnificent sight. We tied up along side in Brooklyn and more FBI agents came aboard to take our photographs and fingerprints (my fingerprints must still be on their files). We were allowed ashore and I remember walking down Times Square: Jimmy Dorsey and his orchestra were playing in one theatre and his brother, Tommy, playing in another. What a city!

We sailed from New York with a big convoy of allied ships and a large escort of destroyers. In the centre a Woolworth carrier, an old liner with its super structure taken off and a flight deck laid. A plane took off every morning at dawn and another at dusk, patrolling for miles around the convoy in search of U-boats. I came on watch one morning at about 8 a.m. just as a plane was taking off. It made it to the bows of the carrier, stopped and flopped over the end. The ship sailed over it. Maybe the destroyer at the stern picked up survivors well maybe.

As we came into enemy air range, after an uneventful crossing, we were ordered by the commodore to test and fire our Orliken heavy machine guns; our ship's gunners letting anyone fire a few rounds. I found it very exciting! Our fourth engineer, from our old ship, wanted to have shoot. The gunners strapped him in and he swung the gun round and opened fire on the ship opposite! He was quickly over powered and brought down on the deck then he was taken to his cabin and locked in. A destroyer came alongside, the captain shouting, "Who's side are you on!? What the hell is going on!?" When told what had happened he didn't say anymore and just dropped back and took up his station again. Our engineer had gone completely out of his mind! All that he had suffered on the King Edward had finally broke him. Passing his cabin to go on watch, I saw him stood looking through the port hole with big staring eyes, but seeing nothing

I was very happy to be home again in spite of the air raids. I met Ethel from work the next day and we held hands, we kissed and cuddled. Her work mates whistled and cheered but we didn't care we were together again. It had been a long six months. We went to her new home as her old one had been bombed during an air raid. I was allowed two weeks survivors leave and enjoyed every day of it. Then, of course, I had to go back to the shipping pool and wait until another crew was needed or a ship needed an ordinary seaman, and that ship happened to be the BLAIR NEVIS.

Going back to Danny Moss. Danny didn't make it. He died on the King Edward. It was fate. If our commandos hadn't raided Narvik and brought him home, he may have spent the rest of the war as a prisoner and been alive today.

*Note:

FORT AKLAVIK, 7,132grt; North Sands type; 441.5 x 57.2; Burrard Dry Dock Co., North Vancouver, March, 1943, hull: Vancouver DD Co.; Dodd, Thomson & Co., London, mgrs; 1950: Dalhousie Steam & Motor Ship Co., London, rnd IRENE DAL; 1952: Panama owners, rnd VOLCAN; 1953: Pakistan owners, rnd OCEAN ENVOY; broken up Karachi 1966. 

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