Dad

The Far East

After two and a half weeks leave I went up to Glasgow again to join yet another new vessel. After loading, we proceeded to Lock Ewe to join a convoy and set off once more for Calcutta via the Mediterranean. We were transporting 120 army personnel to be landed in North Africa and they set up their armaments around the ship.

We must have been the best armed ship in the Merchant Navy. She was also fitted with Asdic, a new system to detect submarines under water, a rare privilege.

Eric had left the College before me because he had accepted a cadetship with a firm of shipping, T & J Harrison, that ran a service mainly to the West Indies and the USA.

Calcutta in 1941

We were in the Med when I experienced my first concentrated aerial attack. The planes were quite low and we could actually see the bombs leaving the bay. Only one ship in the convoy was hit but she stayed afloat. What did impress me, however, was the incredible barrage our American escorts put up. It was like a total eclipse. I was amazed that any warship could carry that amount of ammunition but in spite of that, I only saw one aircraft stagger away leaving a trail of smoke.
The rest of the voyage was free of enemy action until coming home up the Atlantic. I was on gun watch when I spotted a Fokke Wolf Condor flying very low up the side of the convoy. He then turned 90o to cross ahead of our ship. He was presumably counting the number of ships to report to HQ and so it proved. That night all hell broke loose. A wolf pack started their attack in the evening. I was on watch at the time and spotted a torpedo track coming for us on the starboard bow. I lay flat on the deck and waited for the bang but when nothing happened I raised my head “above the parapet” just in time to see a tanker on our port beam go up in a massive ball of flame and smoke. The torpedo had crossed ahead of us and she was the unlucky recipient. My heart went out to her crew and the last I saw of her was a glow on the horizon astern. It was, of course, impossible to stop and help, otherwise we would literally be a sitting target.
Next morning when I came back on watch, I was astounded to see the same ship back on her station. Being a tanker she was divided up into small compartments and it was this that saved her. In all we lost ten ships, but the Radio Operator told us that six subs were sunk in twenty four hours, a figure I found hard to believe but he assured me it was true having got the news from one of the escorts.
I made one more trip in that ship and it was on the leg to Karachi that I came as near to a submarine as is possible. We had come across an open boat with two men, a woman and a baby in it. As we neared, a man held up the child, shouting “pane, pane!” (water, water). But then the alarm bells sounded. Our ship, being equipped with ASDIC, had located a submarine 500 yards on our port bow. We were forced to abandon the open boat, turning our stern on the sub and leave the scene on a double ring of “Full Ahead”. The occupants of the boat must have been devastated, but we broke radio silence to send a message which resulted in a Catalina aircraft being sent out to pick them up. In fact, they reached Karachi before we did.
It was on that voyage, my last with that company, that I underwent my most traumatic experience of the war; not at sea, but ashore in Calcutta. I went to the Seaman’s Mission to enjoy a swim in the excellent pool there and whilst relaxing, floating on my back, there was an explosion close by and I watched large lumps of metal coming through the brick wall. Out of the pool in double quick time, I dived under a small table and crouched down listening to more explosions. Japanese aircraft had targeted the nearby railway shunting yard and docks.
The raid didn’t last long, but after dressing I ventured outside to witness the awful devastation, a sickening sight of dead people, body parts and dead cattle; the so called sacred cows which are allowed to wander freely about the streets.
Making my way back to the ship I came across a bomb shelter, a circular brick construction with a slab concrete roof. The brickwork had collapsed and the roof had fallen onto the occupants. I was joined by another cadet, Bob Lawless, who had come from another ship to see the damage and I said to him “Bob, we have to do something.” He agreed and told me that an ambulance depot wasn’t too far away. We made our way there, only to find the place deserted. A quick search revealed an ambulance with a key in the ignition. A large piece of shrapnel was embedded in the chassis which probably explained the reason the crew took off to find shelter. Not even considering the consequences, we jumped in and headed for the shelter. One woman, very severely injured, had managed to crawl out. I left her with Bob whilst I crawled through the narrow space into the wrecked shelter to seek other survivors. Apart from one old man and a tiny baby, all were dead. We extracted the old man - his hand was almost severed – and the child and together with the injured woman, placed them on stretchers in the ambulance. A man then approached us. He was calmly walking with a huge piece of shrapnel sticking out of his shoulder. He too got on board and off we drove to find a hospital. Because I had done a lot of driving whilst in the USA, I took the wheel. We eventually found a hospital and took the injured inside. The old man, with his hand hanging off, tried to give me the Hindu prayer like salutation, he was so grateful. The woman was incapable of even moving. Someone took charge of the infant and the man wounded by the shrapnel simply said “thank you” in English. To this day, I wonder if the baby was ever reunited with its family.
We returned the ambulance to the depot, in the exact spot where we had found it, and heard no more about the incident.
Tired and badly shaken, I eventually arrived back at my ship to find that she had been severely damaged when a bomb exploded under the stern. Reaction, by now, was setting in and Bob suggested we go back to his ship where he had “a bottle”, very much against company regulations, but it had a calming effect, and soon I was fast asleep in a spare bunk.
I later received a letter from the Railway Company thanking me for the assistance rendered. I was quite proud of it, but sadly, it has since been mislaid as has the medal I received from the ship’s owners for the incident after the torpedoing.

By the time I reached home I had completed my Cadetship and soon was awarded my first gold stripe. Not wanting to repeat the India trips I applied to a company which I knew ran ships to the Mediterranean. They were looking for a Third Officer, and I accepted the position, looking forward to a six week “quickie” to the Med and return.

If I had known how long I was going to be away I probably wouldn't have signed up ...

taking a bearing