Ken W
23-06-2010, 03:03
These are my memories of how our draft came to HMS Exeter, and of the incidents that occurred while we were onboard; including the bold attack on our Convoy by an enemy aircraft; our part in the Bismarck affair, then later the Vichy destroyer incident. This was written over 20 years ago for my grandkids, so failing memory is hopefully not involved.
Eight young Fleet Arm Arm ratings were assigned Exeter as ‘Supernumerary Crew’ for aircraft recognition duties, sorely needed incidentally. Being on the bridge of Exeter, we became privy to most of the events going on around our ship and it’s convoy.
Exeter was the senior escort of a very important convoy. The enemy, surely knew of our convoy and I with my mates, always felt that part of Bismarck's mission was to attack our convoy.
After 6 weeks at the Fleet Air Arm base, Lee on Solent; we five survivors of the previous draft, together with our 3 replacements, 2 RAF men, a Leading Airman and the Petty Officer in charge, received our orders. The small draft caught the overnight train to Scotland; aware only that we were going somewhere overseas, by ship. (It had leaked that ‘we were going on something special’)
Have vivid memory of the next morning in Scotland, just before Glasgow, when a working class man got into our compartment; he spoke with a strong Scots accent. Eyeing us in our uniforms, he finally blurted;
“You lot mus` be going to join that big Convoy waiting at Tail o‘ the Bank. All those ships‘ll be sailing tomorrow morning!”
We looked at each other, horrified to hear this said openly; after all the careless talk warnings too. If we‘d put in a complaint he would be in chokey, quick smart.
Still mulling over him and what he’d said, from Glasgow we went by train to Greenock, to the Dockside Naval office. From there we went off with all our kit, to the Jetty for the boat to our mystery ship - still not knowing which, or to where going.
At last a naval pinnace came up to us, carrying a signboard ‘Exeter‘; we wondered could we be going on that famous ship? Loading our kit we went out past many ships, this certainly was a big convoy we whispered to our mates. Finally to where a two funneled eight-inch gun Cruiser, HMS Exeter, was lying at “Tail o‘ the Bank”; where the Clyde meets the sea. A place that would have memories for me, especially later in this War.
Exeter was a Plymouth ship, manned by experienced West Country men; they quickly let we young fellows know that this was a real naval ship. Put in the Forward mess deck with the Seamen, we were thrown, without delay, into the hurly-burly of life at sea in wartime. The Leading Seaman assigned as Killick of our Mess, told us we had twelve hours to find our way around the ship; then took us on a quick tour, pointing out some of Exeter’s battle scars on the way. The two RAF fellows tagging along behind seemed more concerned than us about this sea life; they would stand no watches, instead be mess cooks.
The ‘Fleet Air Arm kids‘, as we were called, were assigned as Bridge Lookouts, a vital task in wartime, which we would not disgrace. (Years later I would hear that we had been selected by Admiralty for this task, mainly for our aircraft recognition knowledge).
We were sorted into our watches, finding four of us would start next morning on the Morning Watch; then we four, Harry, self, Lee, Wally, at 0800. That suited us fine since the four of us had become close mates after our experiences some weeks before.
The others were up there on lookout when Exeter sailed at dawn next morning, May 21st. She lead out a line – the cruiser ‘Cairo‘, carrier ‘Argus’, seven Tribal class destroyers and a procession of big ships including the liner ‘Georgic‘.
This was Convoy WS 8B, taking an armoured division to the Middle East, the largest to leave UK so far in this war. Many of these ships, including Exeter, would never return home. (WS, of course was code for a ‘Winston Churchill Special’)
Within a few hours of our sailing the mighty ‘Bismarck‘ would leave Norway, ‘To raid Atlantic Convoys‘. The enemy was breaking naval codes at this time, so they surely knew of convoy WS 8B.
I remember as we moved down the Clyde, watching the seamen swilling down the anchor chains on the foredeck; each man looking capable and professional with his knife at waist, yet one stood out – a French sailor with the red pompom on his hat. Where was he going? Sometimes I still think of him, alone, with those no doubt suspicious messmates around.
Then up to the bridge; we soon settled into the routine, four of us on at a time, just behind the open Bridge; two on the Port side and two on the Starboard. Lee and Wally one pair, Harry & I another. Binoculars were glued to our eyes, as we checked both the sea and sky Our ship, Exeter, was at the centre of a large convoy, with the escorting destroyers extending miles out from us. Up on the bridge, we would get the latest Gen and also a close up view of any Action when it developed; we would sometimes be asked by others just what was going on, or what had happened up there.
Due to working four hours on and four hours off, it wasn’t long before we felt the need for sleep; this need would increase as time went on.
The convoy sailed out from Ireland, then after one (?) day turned to go in a near Southerly direction. That morning Harry & I were on watch when about 0700 I spotted a speck coming out of the Eastern sky; the sun was fairly well up so luckily it could not hide that speck. At first I thought it a sea bird, but it kept straight on for us, at a low height. Suddenly I knew that I had seen that head on silhouette before; Harry confirmed that our binoculars showed a FockWulf Kurrier, the four engined enemy long range bomber.
I called out to the officer of the watch my sighting, adding my suspicions, but after looking through his telescope for some time, he said “It’s a Sunderland flying boat’. I respectfully disagreed, saying these had bombed then strafed our ship, Sir – to be sharply told ‘Watch your tongue’.
We watched it come boldly straight on towards the centre of our convoy, at about 200 feet height – Thought I could even see the pilots thru my binoculars. Then, as it passed through the outer destroyer screen, two of them starting firing at this so-called Sunderland, they‘d seen the Nazi Crosses on it!
Sudden Panic! Remember the Marine bugler sounding off into the Tannoy near us, as Exeter went to action stations. Our 4 inch HA and pom-pom guns quickly opened up, joining others in firing at the enemy. Harry and I had a ringside seat, with the guns below us firing, then seeing, as the Kurier suddenly banked and turned at 90 degrees to us - Exeter‘s shells bursting around her fuselage
A red glow came inside her, as she headed for a brightly painted ammunition ship just a mile away….Tried to drop her load on it...but luckily for all nearby ships, missed. Finally she splashed down in flames!
A destroyer signaled us that there were no survivors. No surprise, we‘d seen them steam over the wreckage to make sure.
The Kurier’s crew had been very brave, almost suicidal in their action; but there was no sorrow on our part, our dead comrades of our last voyage had been avenged.
This incident left our small party with Suspicions; firstly re the aircraft knowledge of our officers, also how did that plane know so well where to find the convoy; coming like a homing pigeon straight to us, out of the East? (Did that confirm the enemy knew where we were?)
Then forenoon of May 24, Harry whispered, ‘Destroyer’s calling’. I stole a glance seeing one of the Tribal destroyer screen aft, flashing us. (That morning we were on the starboard side of bridge). The Chief Yeoman passed close behind us to the signal lamp at the rear, and quickly answered them. He then passed going up front to the skipper, saying openly as though shocked, ‘By Christ, the Hood’s been sunk.’
We looked at each other, but nobody said anything, so later went down to the Seamen’s mess deck at noon wondering. The old Leading Seaman i/c our mess, who’d been on her for the 1939 action, was ‘our Dad’; so we told him all what had happened. It produced horrified reaction – directed at us.
‘For Christ’s sake, don’t you know anything? Never say that again.’
Seamen in the mess alongside heard, so they lashed out too; ‘Bloody brats spreading f..ing buzzes.’ (we were both 17) : ‘Bloody Fleet air arm! What can you expect.’
We hung our heads as our Father lectured us, our mates also gave us dirty looks - in the clag again.
I think it was the second Dog when the Skipper came on the Tannoy. ‘This is the Captain speaking. I regret to inform ship’s company that this morning Hood was sunk in surface action in the Denmark Straits. Heavy units of the enemy are now reported heading in a Southerly direction. That is all.’
No apologies, we didn’t expect any. Apart from the shock of loosing a Naval Icon, we were all more taken up with those two monsters thundering down, maybe towards us.
I think it was that day that the weather worsened, with squalls and scudding clouds occasionally cutting our vision. Do remember from the starboard lookout seeing the carrier Argus level with us, nearly a mile away; she was steaming parallel with a Walrus landing on her flight deck. Then seeing the handling party in oilskins running to the wing tips and holding her down as the wind over deck and ship’s motion lifted her up. We wondered…Did she land on a flight deck rather than on the rough sea? Was she bringing dispatches?
We’d never know. Just one of the many interesting scenarios we’d see during the voyage.
The Seamens mess deck was not its usual immaculate self when we went down, especially our area. The other watch coming up had warned us, you’ll have a bit of tidying up to do; now we saw it, our mess cooks under the table, incapacitated, vomit and utensils lying around. Our Killick came down then hoping for his tot and a warm meal. Cursing, he rounded on our two Raf men, soon had us get them up our stairway onto the deck. ‘Get some bloody fresh air, stay there till your starving, you bastards.’
Think the cure worked, after hours up top, they came down hours later, ravenous.
In the background, over these hours, there was an air of tension since the mighty Bismarck could be coming our way. Then we overheard bad news on the bridge, that she`d slipped away from the ship shadowing her.
Later, talk of the many Naval ships out looking for her –Battleships, Aircraft Carriers etc. Later came buzzes that they`d found her, and of Torpedo attacks on Bismarck by Fleet Air Arm Swordfish.
The part I remember well was on the night of the 26th when the Captain came on again saying; “Bismarck is closing fast on this convoy from a Northerly direction. I expect contact around dawn. Exeter will engage her with guns and torpedoes to protect the convoy. If necessary I shall ram her!” (Obviously a suicide attack) That was in the late evening, and I was on watch until midnight. During that watch our escorting Tribal destroyers went off to attack Bismarck. While we went to our hammocks at 00.10, near fully dressed of course, expecting to be woken for action stations during this middle watch, probably our last ever!
However we were dead tired so we slept away; then were woken for a normal watch call at 0345...relieved to know we would live a bit longer and wondering what exactly had happened. Then we heard that Bismarck had altered course during the night and therefore had missed us by a mere forty odd miles! That morning a battle of giants raged to the East; dramatic news came, first that she was crippled; then our Captain came on the Tannoy telling us that Bismarck was Sunk, her crew having fought to the bitter end. (I remember then wondering why he and the seamen around us were not cheering about Bismarck; obviously I still had a lot to learn)
HMS Hood was avenged, and we were all very relieved.
Strangely, after Bismarck was sunk, there was little jubilation; it was as though we suddenly had become very tired. Cannot remember seeing our Tribal class destroyers return to the convoy, maybe they had to leave, short of fuel. A day or so later, the other escorts, cruiser Cairo and the old carrier Argus, with several supply ships left us, heading for Gibraltar and the Med.
Exeter now became the sole escort of this important military convoy; the lookouts were lectured on how important we had become. “Don’t worry about Aircraft, instead you must scan for Periscopes, or the horizon for a possible Surface Raider.”
Then one morning came a sea-change; the water was now longer gray and cold but instead a friendly cobalt blue; the sun was stronger and Exeter rode over the ocean swells with her easy flowing motion, like a queen in her own domain. As we looked out, we saw Flying fish skimming over the waves and the sails of Portugese men o` war - we‘d entered the Tropics
In the afternoons off watch we sun-baked on the Foc‘scle; one of us got burnt, but had to hide it since this was then a ‘Crime‘ in the Royal Navy. While we sunned, I remember the ship‘s P.A. appropriately playing ‘Down where the Tradewinds Play‘.
Down below too, we had got used to the lifestyle....
To sharing our food from the mess ‘kettles‘ with the other members of the mess on the wooden table which was scrubbed snow white every day. ...
To hearing the ‘Old Salts‘, talk in their West Country accents with details how Exeter had fought in the Battle of the River Plate early in the war.
To slinging our hammocks at night, lying there swinging and listening to Vera Lynn over the ship‘s PA before we fell asleep, knowing we‘d be woken in a brief three hours or so. On watch we saw the four big ocean liners close by with their thousands of troops on board parading or exercising, also we saw a few nurses and other females occasionally sunbathing on deck.
If our binoculars strayed too close to them, we would be accused of ‘Perving‘; but we laughed knowing we had more important things to look for...U-boat periscopes for one. Suddenly we felt at home on the ship, and although we were tired we wished this life could go on forever.
Our convoy was now off the West African coast; one afternoon we were on watch, looking East, when Harry noted a distant ‘small white cloud‘ that did not climb up above the blue horizon like good clouds should do. Instead, moving slightly up, then after a pause down level or below the horizon; I confirmed it as suspicious so we reported it.
The officer got his telescope, climbed high up – Then quickly ordered Action Stations!
Exeter left the convoy, steaming at full speed towards the object; then we saw it was a large French destroyer, which had been tracking our convoy; obviously trying to keep out of sight. We flashed signals at it, but she did not reply, instead turned and went fast over the horizon back towards Dakar.
Then some hours later, at dusk, our Detector picked up a U-boat! Panic…Panic. Our ship steamed around the convoy at high speed chucking depth charges off the back; it was thrilling while it lasted, to be on a cruiser `playing at destroyers`. The whole convoy increased speed as well, later when we got out of the danger area we went back to normal; but everyone was sure that those ‘Vichy Frogs‘ had brought the U-boat to us.
(At this time, Vichy France was working closely with the Germans; there was also some hatred of the R.N. after Churchill’s attack on the French Fleet at Dakar).
Next day we went into Freetown, with a short ‘run ashore‘ to see what Africa was like...Hot, humid, smelly, dirty and certainly different. While we looking over the thatch clad ‘shops’ in the native market and trying to get a lemonade or anything cold – a plane from the French base at Dakar flew over photographing the ships. Our friends again, keeping tabs on the convoy - for the benefit of their friends in Berlin maybe.
A day or so later we left and entered the South Atlantic. Away from the dangerous area, Exeter now went to Cruising Stations, this meant we only worked one watch in every three. Lazy tropical days; not that we did laze that much. Now though we had time to look around the ship.
Then we came to the Equator and King Neptune greeted our ship by staging a ‘Crossing the Line Ceremony‘ for all the Grubs on board. Along with others we were lathered and dumped in the Canvas Tub by Neptune‘s Bears, great fun for all those watching, but for those with a mouthful of ship‘s soap and salt water, well!
In future we could always swagger; as Les Botham did fifty years later at a reunion in the UK, when he mentioned – `That he had first Crossed the Line on Exeter`.
Unfortunately, several of us would later loose those prized Line Certificates; through Japanese action.
About then, I started working in my spare time with the Fleet Air Arm crew, on the Walrus flying boat. This sat on a catapult from which it was occasionally fired off to patrol around us, looking for raiders. I must have watched them, and then been allowed to give a hand, probably washing down the hull or something menial. From then on I was there every spare minute during the day. ...Watching the Walrus coming back from various patrols and how each time the sailors fended her off with long bamboo poles until the crane could be hooked on to lift her back inboard. Dangerous work for the plane’s Observer who did the hooking up, perched high on her centre section with the engine’s propeller spinning only 3 feet away! Back on the catapult we‘d wash her down, refuel her and check the systems. They needed a spare Engine Fitter and since I knew the Pegasus engine well, the pilot seemed willing to have me join his crew, so I applied.
Later on I fronted the First Lieutenant, who took one look at me and straightaway asked my Age. “I`m eighteen now Sir.” I said boldly (Having just had my birthday).
I remember him frowning, “Too young for my ship. Request denied.”
That baby face had brought me down again! In reality the hand of fate had done me a good turn, since Exeter only had another eight months to live. She would be sunk in the Java Sea along with HMAS Perth. Her survivors would have a really rough time as Japanese prisoners.
On watch it seemed we‘d been looking at the big liners forever; through our binoculars we knew all the routines on board – when the troops paraded, when they had physical training, their P.A. announcements etc. Then one day we saw them dressed in long sleeves and their shorts had gone...the weather had cooled and the waves had become gigantic.
For some reason (Rumours of U-boats I think) they had routed our convoy far South of the Cape of Good Hope, into the edge of the ‘Roaring Forties‘, and it was Winter here. We lookouts were fascinated by the wandering Albatross as they skimmed over those big wave tops. Low on fuel, the ship rolled horribly at times but it didn’t bother us now; we‘d become real sailors.
Early one morning Exeter led the fleet of ships into Durban; it was incredible the enthusiasm that our arrival generated. Flocks of people converged on the port area, waving and singing to us as Exeter steamed slowly past! The ‘Lady in White’ led the singing standing right out in front on the jetty.
Of course Exeter was a famous ship but it certainly brought a lump to one‘s throat; even to ‘Veterans‘ like us, as we kids now liked to think of ourselves.
The ship secured alongside and heard we’d be here for several days, so everyone looked forward to going ashore. The kind citizens more than fulfilled our expectations; both Harry and I were picked up by a couple who took us to a nice house on the outskirts. I think they had two older daughters, who joined us when we went out for a meal at a Club that night. Afterwards we went to the open-air movies. He was the manager of the British Airways Flying Boat depot and was very generous, insisting on treating us, then dropping us back at the Docks and saying they‘d pick us up tomorrow.
Although we were ‘Supernumerary Crew’, we thought we were going onto Egypt with Exeter, we just could not imagine otherwise; but suddenly next morning we were told to collect our kit...we were leaving the ship! That was a big letdown, but orders were orders; however, before leaving, the Ship’s Commander told our Petty Officer what a good job we had all done as lookouts, especially spotting that Vichy Destroyer that time.
So we toddled off in a truck and arrived at a South African Army camp, on Snell Parade near Durban airfield. Here our reception was friendly and we were given a big hut to ourselves, then told we could go out on leave provided we were back at midnight. Off we went, Harry & I dodging our kind benefactors who were looking for us; instead we played seasoned sailors, joining old shipmates in seeing Durban, especially since they were sailing next day.
Next morning on parade at 0730, we met the Sergeant Major who was in charge of us. Immaculately dressed in cavalry gear, sporting two separate rows of medal ribbons, he really stood out. We found out he was over 60 and an ex-Boer, his ribbons being both Boer then Allied from the 1914 War. A thoroughly good fellow who told us over the next few weeks enthralling stories of the Boer war, of riding the Veldt with his commando, also of `Stupid Pommie Officers‘ sending their men to certain death against the crack shots he was with. (First time I heard that word Pommie; it wouldn’t be the last). That first morning he gave us each a sack of Oranges, a big bag of Raisins and some Nuts ...all this to build us up! Thank you South Africa
Meanwhile Exeter had taken the convoy North through the Mozambique channel, then to Dar es Salaam. While they were in that area we heard of a tragedy, Exeter had lost her Walrus and her Jimmy the One; apparently on a flight over the ship to check camouflage. - No details except a wing may have unlocked.
Eventually the convoy got to Suez; while lying there the Luftwaffe mounted a daring night bombing attack, from Crete, on the anchored ships. The big liner Georgic was burnt out and became a loss (later repaired). Fortunately the troops had disembarked that day.
Proof surely, that the enemy had been shadowed or monitoring this important convoy on its long journey around Africa to Egypt; then had struck as soon as they could on it's arrival.
Eight young Fleet Arm Arm ratings were assigned Exeter as ‘Supernumerary Crew’ for aircraft recognition duties, sorely needed incidentally. Being on the bridge of Exeter, we became privy to most of the events going on around our ship and it’s convoy.
Exeter was the senior escort of a very important convoy. The enemy, surely knew of our convoy and I with my mates, always felt that part of Bismarck's mission was to attack our convoy.
After 6 weeks at the Fleet Air Arm base, Lee on Solent; we five survivors of the previous draft, together with our 3 replacements, 2 RAF men, a Leading Airman and the Petty Officer in charge, received our orders. The small draft caught the overnight train to Scotland; aware only that we were going somewhere overseas, by ship. (It had leaked that ‘we were going on something special’)
Have vivid memory of the next morning in Scotland, just before Glasgow, when a working class man got into our compartment; he spoke with a strong Scots accent. Eyeing us in our uniforms, he finally blurted;
“You lot mus` be going to join that big Convoy waiting at Tail o‘ the Bank. All those ships‘ll be sailing tomorrow morning!”
We looked at each other, horrified to hear this said openly; after all the careless talk warnings too. If we‘d put in a complaint he would be in chokey, quick smart.
Still mulling over him and what he’d said, from Glasgow we went by train to Greenock, to the Dockside Naval office. From there we went off with all our kit, to the Jetty for the boat to our mystery ship - still not knowing which, or to where going.
At last a naval pinnace came up to us, carrying a signboard ‘Exeter‘; we wondered could we be going on that famous ship? Loading our kit we went out past many ships, this certainly was a big convoy we whispered to our mates. Finally to where a two funneled eight-inch gun Cruiser, HMS Exeter, was lying at “Tail o‘ the Bank”; where the Clyde meets the sea. A place that would have memories for me, especially later in this War.
Exeter was a Plymouth ship, manned by experienced West Country men; they quickly let we young fellows know that this was a real naval ship. Put in the Forward mess deck with the Seamen, we were thrown, without delay, into the hurly-burly of life at sea in wartime. The Leading Seaman assigned as Killick of our Mess, told us we had twelve hours to find our way around the ship; then took us on a quick tour, pointing out some of Exeter’s battle scars on the way. The two RAF fellows tagging along behind seemed more concerned than us about this sea life; they would stand no watches, instead be mess cooks.
The ‘Fleet Air Arm kids‘, as we were called, were assigned as Bridge Lookouts, a vital task in wartime, which we would not disgrace. (Years later I would hear that we had been selected by Admiralty for this task, mainly for our aircraft recognition knowledge).
We were sorted into our watches, finding four of us would start next morning on the Morning Watch; then we four, Harry, self, Lee, Wally, at 0800. That suited us fine since the four of us had become close mates after our experiences some weeks before.
The others were up there on lookout when Exeter sailed at dawn next morning, May 21st. She lead out a line – the cruiser ‘Cairo‘, carrier ‘Argus’, seven Tribal class destroyers and a procession of big ships including the liner ‘Georgic‘.
This was Convoy WS 8B, taking an armoured division to the Middle East, the largest to leave UK so far in this war. Many of these ships, including Exeter, would never return home. (WS, of course was code for a ‘Winston Churchill Special’)
Within a few hours of our sailing the mighty ‘Bismarck‘ would leave Norway, ‘To raid Atlantic Convoys‘. The enemy was breaking naval codes at this time, so they surely knew of convoy WS 8B.
I remember as we moved down the Clyde, watching the seamen swilling down the anchor chains on the foredeck; each man looking capable and professional with his knife at waist, yet one stood out – a French sailor with the red pompom on his hat. Where was he going? Sometimes I still think of him, alone, with those no doubt suspicious messmates around.
Then up to the bridge; we soon settled into the routine, four of us on at a time, just behind the open Bridge; two on the Port side and two on the Starboard. Lee and Wally one pair, Harry & I another. Binoculars were glued to our eyes, as we checked both the sea and sky Our ship, Exeter, was at the centre of a large convoy, with the escorting destroyers extending miles out from us. Up on the bridge, we would get the latest Gen and also a close up view of any Action when it developed; we would sometimes be asked by others just what was going on, or what had happened up there.
Due to working four hours on and four hours off, it wasn’t long before we felt the need for sleep; this need would increase as time went on.
The convoy sailed out from Ireland, then after one (?) day turned to go in a near Southerly direction. That morning Harry & I were on watch when about 0700 I spotted a speck coming out of the Eastern sky; the sun was fairly well up so luckily it could not hide that speck. At first I thought it a sea bird, but it kept straight on for us, at a low height. Suddenly I knew that I had seen that head on silhouette before; Harry confirmed that our binoculars showed a FockWulf Kurrier, the four engined enemy long range bomber.
I called out to the officer of the watch my sighting, adding my suspicions, but after looking through his telescope for some time, he said “It’s a Sunderland flying boat’. I respectfully disagreed, saying these had bombed then strafed our ship, Sir – to be sharply told ‘Watch your tongue’.
We watched it come boldly straight on towards the centre of our convoy, at about 200 feet height – Thought I could even see the pilots thru my binoculars. Then, as it passed through the outer destroyer screen, two of them starting firing at this so-called Sunderland, they‘d seen the Nazi Crosses on it!
Sudden Panic! Remember the Marine bugler sounding off into the Tannoy near us, as Exeter went to action stations. Our 4 inch HA and pom-pom guns quickly opened up, joining others in firing at the enemy. Harry and I had a ringside seat, with the guns below us firing, then seeing, as the Kurier suddenly banked and turned at 90 degrees to us - Exeter‘s shells bursting around her fuselage
A red glow came inside her, as she headed for a brightly painted ammunition ship just a mile away….Tried to drop her load on it...but luckily for all nearby ships, missed. Finally she splashed down in flames!
A destroyer signaled us that there were no survivors. No surprise, we‘d seen them steam over the wreckage to make sure.
The Kurier’s crew had been very brave, almost suicidal in their action; but there was no sorrow on our part, our dead comrades of our last voyage had been avenged.
This incident left our small party with Suspicions; firstly re the aircraft knowledge of our officers, also how did that plane know so well where to find the convoy; coming like a homing pigeon straight to us, out of the East? (Did that confirm the enemy knew where we were?)
Then forenoon of May 24, Harry whispered, ‘Destroyer’s calling’. I stole a glance seeing one of the Tribal destroyer screen aft, flashing us. (That morning we were on the starboard side of bridge). The Chief Yeoman passed close behind us to the signal lamp at the rear, and quickly answered them. He then passed going up front to the skipper, saying openly as though shocked, ‘By Christ, the Hood’s been sunk.’
We looked at each other, but nobody said anything, so later went down to the Seamen’s mess deck at noon wondering. The old Leading Seaman i/c our mess, who’d been on her for the 1939 action, was ‘our Dad’; so we told him all what had happened. It produced horrified reaction – directed at us.
‘For Christ’s sake, don’t you know anything? Never say that again.’
Seamen in the mess alongside heard, so they lashed out too; ‘Bloody brats spreading f..ing buzzes.’ (we were both 17) : ‘Bloody Fleet air arm! What can you expect.’
We hung our heads as our Father lectured us, our mates also gave us dirty looks - in the clag again.
I think it was the second Dog when the Skipper came on the Tannoy. ‘This is the Captain speaking. I regret to inform ship’s company that this morning Hood was sunk in surface action in the Denmark Straits. Heavy units of the enemy are now reported heading in a Southerly direction. That is all.’
No apologies, we didn’t expect any. Apart from the shock of loosing a Naval Icon, we were all more taken up with those two monsters thundering down, maybe towards us.
I think it was that day that the weather worsened, with squalls and scudding clouds occasionally cutting our vision. Do remember from the starboard lookout seeing the carrier Argus level with us, nearly a mile away; she was steaming parallel with a Walrus landing on her flight deck. Then seeing the handling party in oilskins running to the wing tips and holding her down as the wind over deck and ship’s motion lifted her up. We wondered…Did she land on a flight deck rather than on the rough sea? Was she bringing dispatches?
We’d never know. Just one of the many interesting scenarios we’d see during the voyage.
The Seamens mess deck was not its usual immaculate self when we went down, especially our area. The other watch coming up had warned us, you’ll have a bit of tidying up to do; now we saw it, our mess cooks under the table, incapacitated, vomit and utensils lying around. Our Killick came down then hoping for his tot and a warm meal. Cursing, he rounded on our two Raf men, soon had us get them up our stairway onto the deck. ‘Get some bloody fresh air, stay there till your starving, you bastards.’
Think the cure worked, after hours up top, they came down hours later, ravenous.
In the background, over these hours, there was an air of tension since the mighty Bismarck could be coming our way. Then we overheard bad news on the bridge, that she`d slipped away from the ship shadowing her.
Later, talk of the many Naval ships out looking for her –Battleships, Aircraft Carriers etc. Later came buzzes that they`d found her, and of Torpedo attacks on Bismarck by Fleet Air Arm Swordfish.
The part I remember well was on the night of the 26th when the Captain came on again saying; “Bismarck is closing fast on this convoy from a Northerly direction. I expect contact around dawn. Exeter will engage her with guns and torpedoes to protect the convoy. If necessary I shall ram her!” (Obviously a suicide attack) That was in the late evening, and I was on watch until midnight. During that watch our escorting Tribal destroyers went off to attack Bismarck. While we went to our hammocks at 00.10, near fully dressed of course, expecting to be woken for action stations during this middle watch, probably our last ever!
However we were dead tired so we slept away; then were woken for a normal watch call at 0345...relieved to know we would live a bit longer and wondering what exactly had happened. Then we heard that Bismarck had altered course during the night and therefore had missed us by a mere forty odd miles! That morning a battle of giants raged to the East; dramatic news came, first that she was crippled; then our Captain came on the Tannoy telling us that Bismarck was Sunk, her crew having fought to the bitter end. (I remember then wondering why he and the seamen around us were not cheering about Bismarck; obviously I still had a lot to learn)
HMS Hood was avenged, and we were all very relieved.
Strangely, after Bismarck was sunk, there was little jubilation; it was as though we suddenly had become very tired. Cannot remember seeing our Tribal class destroyers return to the convoy, maybe they had to leave, short of fuel. A day or so later, the other escorts, cruiser Cairo and the old carrier Argus, with several supply ships left us, heading for Gibraltar and the Med.
Exeter now became the sole escort of this important military convoy; the lookouts were lectured on how important we had become. “Don’t worry about Aircraft, instead you must scan for Periscopes, or the horizon for a possible Surface Raider.”
Then one morning came a sea-change; the water was now longer gray and cold but instead a friendly cobalt blue; the sun was stronger and Exeter rode over the ocean swells with her easy flowing motion, like a queen in her own domain. As we looked out, we saw Flying fish skimming over the waves and the sails of Portugese men o` war - we‘d entered the Tropics
In the afternoons off watch we sun-baked on the Foc‘scle; one of us got burnt, but had to hide it since this was then a ‘Crime‘ in the Royal Navy. While we sunned, I remember the ship‘s P.A. appropriately playing ‘Down where the Tradewinds Play‘.
Down below too, we had got used to the lifestyle....
To sharing our food from the mess ‘kettles‘ with the other members of the mess on the wooden table which was scrubbed snow white every day. ...
To hearing the ‘Old Salts‘, talk in their West Country accents with details how Exeter had fought in the Battle of the River Plate early in the war.
To slinging our hammocks at night, lying there swinging and listening to Vera Lynn over the ship‘s PA before we fell asleep, knowing we‘d be woken in a brief three hours or so. On watch we saw the four big ocean liners close by with their thousands of troops on board parading or exercising, also we saw a few nurses and other females occasionally sunbathing on deck.
If our binoculars strayed too close to them, we would be accused of ‘Perving‘; but we laughed knowing we had more important things to look for...U-boat periscopes for one. Suddenly we felt at home on the ship, and although we were tired we wished this life could go on forever.
Our convoy was now off the West African coast; one afternoon we were on watch, looking East, when Harry noted a distant ‘small white cloud‘ that did not climb up above the blue horizon like good clouds should do. Instead, moving slightly up, then after a pause down level or below the horizon; I confirmed it as suspicious so we reported it.
The officer got his telescope, climbed high up – Then quickly ordered Action Stations!
Exeter left the convoy, steaming at full speed towards the object; then we saw it was a large French destroyer, which had been tracking our convoy; obviously trying to keep out of sight. We flashed signals at it, but she did not reply, instead turned and went fast over the horizon back towards Dakar.
Then some hours later, at dusk, our Detector picked up a U-boat! Panic…Panic. Our ship steamed around the convoy at high speed chucking depth charges off the back; it was thrilling while it lasted, to be on a cruiser `playing at destroyers`. The whole convoy increased speed as well, later when we got out of the danger area we went back to normal; but everyone was sure that those ‘Vichy Frogs‘ had brought the U-boat to us.
(At this time, Vichy France was working closely with the Germans; there was also some hatred of the R.N. after Churchill’s attack on the French Fleet at Dakar).
Next day we went into Freetown, with a short ‘run ashore‘ to see what Africa was like...Hot, humid, smelly, dirty and certainly different. While we looking over the thatch clad ‘shops’ in the native market and trying to get a lemonade or anything cold – a plane from the French base at Dakar flew over photographing the ships. Our friends again, keeping tabs on the convoy - for the benefit of their friends in Berlin maybe.
A day or so later we left and entered the South Atlantic. Away from the dangerous area, Exeter now went to Cruising Stations, this meant we only worked one watch in every three. Lazy tropical days; not that we did laze that much. Now though we had time to look around the ship.
Then we came to the Equator and King Neptune greeted our ship by staging a ‘Crossing the Line Ceremony‘ for all the Grubs on board. Along with others we were lathered and dumped in the Canvas Tub by Neptune‘s Bears, great fun for all those watching, but for those with a mouthful of ship‘s soap and salt water, well!
In future we could always swagger; as Les Botham did fifty years later at a reunion in the UK, when he mentioned – `That he had first Crossed the Line on Exeter`.
Unfortunately, several of us would later loose those prized Line Certificates; through Japanese action.
About then, I started working in my spare time with the Fleet Air Arm crew, on the Walrus flying boat. This sat on a catapult from which it was occasionally fired off to patrol around us, looking for raiders. I must have watched them, and then been allowed to give a hand, probably washing down the hull or something menial. From then on I was there every spare minute during the day. ...Watching the Walrus coming back from various patrols and how each time the sailors fended her off with long bamboo poles until the crane could be hooked on to lift her back inboard. Dangerous work for the plane’s Observer who did the hooking up, perched high on her centre section with the engine’s propeller spinning only 3 feet away! Back on the catapult we‘d wash her down, refuel her and check the systems. They needed a spare Engine Fitter and since I knew the Pegasus engine well, the pilot seemed willing to have me join his crew, so I applied.
Later on I fronted the First Lieutenant, who took one look at me and straightaway asked my Age. “I`m eighteen now Sir.” I said boldly (Having just had my birthday).
I remember him frowning, “Too young for my ship. Request denied.”
That baby face had brought me down again! In reality the hand of fate had done me a good turn, since Exeter only had another eight months to live. She would be sunk in the Java Sea along with HMAS Perth. Her survivors would have a really rough time as Japanese prisoners.
On watch it seemed we‘d been looking at the big liners forever; through our binoculars we knew all the routines on board – when the troops paraded, when they had physical training, their P.A. announcements etc. Then one day we saw them dressed in long sleeves and their shorts had gone...the weather had cooled and the waves had become gigantic.
For some reason (Rumours of U-boats I think) they had routed our convoy far South of the Cape of Good Hope, into the edge of the ‘Roaring Forties‘, and it was Winter here. We lookouts were fascinated by the wandering Albatross as they skimmed over those big wave tops. Low on fuel, the ship rolled horribly at times but it didn’t bother us now; we‘d become real sailors.
Early one morning Exeter led the fleet of ships into Durban; it was incredible the enthusiasm that our arrival generated. Flocks of people converged on the port area, waving and singing to us as Exeter steamed slowly past! The ‘Lady in White’ led the singing standing right out in front on the jetty.
Of course Exeter was a famous ship but it certainly brought a lump to one‘s throat; even to ‘Veterans‘ like us, as we kids now liked to think of ourselves.
The ship secured alongside and heard we’d be here for several days, so everyone looked forward to going ashore. The kind citizens more than fulfilled our expectations; both Harry and I were picked up by a couple who took us to a nice house on the outskirts. I think they had two older daughters, who joined us when we went out for a meal at a Club that night. Afterwards we went to the open-air movies. He was the manager of the British Airways Flying Boat depot and was very generous, insisting on treating us, then dropping us back at the Docks and saying they‘d pick us up tomorrow.
Although we were ‘Supernumerary Crew’, we thought we were going onto Egypt with Exeter, we just could not imagine otherwise; but suddenly next morning we were told to collect our kit...we were leaving the ship! That was a big letdown, but orders were orders; however, before leaving, the Ship’s Commander told our Petty Officer what a good job we had all done as lookouts, especially spotting that Vichy Destroyer that time.
So we toddled off in a truck and arrived at a South African Army camp, on Snell Parade near Durban airfield. Here our reception was friendly and we were given a big hut to ourselves, then told we could go out on leave provided we were back at midnight. Off we went, Harry & I dodging our kind benefactors who were looking for us; instead we played seasoned sailors, joining old shipmates in seeing Durban, especially since they were sailing next day.
Next morning on parade at 0730, we met the Sergeant Major who was in charge of us. Immaculately dressed in cavalry gear, sporting two separate rows of medal ribbons, he really stood out. We found out he was over 60 and an ex-Boer, his ribbons being both Boer then Allied from the 1914 War. A thoroughly good fellow who told us over the next few weeks enthralling stories of the Boer war, of riding the Veldt with his commando, also of `Stupid Pommie Officers‘ sending their men to certain death against the crack shots he was with. (First time I heard that word Pommie; it wouldn’t be the last). That first morning he gave us each a sack of Oranges, a big bag of Raisins and some Nuts ...all this to build us up! Thank you South Africa
Meanwhile Exeter had taken the convoy North through the Mozambique channel, then to Dar es Salaam. While they were in that area we heard of a tragedy, Exeter had lost her Walrus and her Jimmy the One; apparently on a flight over the ship to check camouflage. - No details except a wing may have unlocked.
Eventually the convoy got to Suez; while lying there the Luftwaffe mounted a daring night bombing attack, from Crete, on the anchored ships. The big liner Georgic was burnt out and became a loss (later repaired). Fortunately the troops had disembarked that day.
Proof surely, that the enemy had been shadowed or monitoring this important convoy on its long journey around Africa to Egypt; then had struck as soon as they could on it's arrival.