British India Steam Navigation Company Ltd.

Journal By Cadet Philip Dilworth.

Part Three

Trooping runs to the Middle East

After embarking the troops we proceeded to Aden where we joined a small convoy for the journey up the Red Sea. With an escort of two destroyers. The journey once more was uneventful and we arrived at Suez towards the end of January 1941 where the Punjabis were disembarked - at a time when Wavell's forces were pushing on towards Benghazi, after starting their offensive against the Italians at Sidi Barrani on 9th December, [n.b. it is worth noting here that in June 1940, in Cyrenaica, some 300,000 Italian troops faced a mere 30,000 troops under General Sir Archibald Wavell, and in September the Italians under Marshall Graziani advanced with the ultimate objective of taking Egypt. On September 17th, having advanced 60 miles in 4 days, the Italians stopped their advance and started to construct a line of fortified camps extending 50 miles inland from Sidi Barrani on the coast, which was approximately 50 miles inside Egyptian territory. Graziani intended to concentrate on improving his supply lines until the cool of winter, then advance again. In mid-September, Wavell received reinforcements from Britain, including 154 tanks, 48 anti-tank guns, 20 Bofors anti-aircraft guns, and 48 25 pounder field guns. Reinforcements of troops had also been arriving, mainly from Australia and India -nevertheless his forces were still considerably less than those of Graziani.]

After 3 days of hard fighting, the Italian fortress of Bardia was captured on 6th January 1941 and many prisoners were taken.

Italian Prisoners of War

About 2000 of these arrived at Suez about the end of January and were embarked for us to take to Bombay, where they would be engaged on road making. They arrived by rail, packed into cattle trucks, on the wharf adjacent to where the Talma was berthed. They were in a sorry state, bedraggled, hungry, with ragged uniforms, and many of them were without any form of footware. We couldn't help but feel very sorry for them.

Shortly after the embarkation we cast off and set sail for Bombay. On the way out of the harbour we passed a large troopship filled with Australian troops which was just arriving. The two ships, with crowded upper decks, passed quite close to each other, and the two sets of troops eyed each other. Suddenly the Australian troops realised that they were looking at Italian prisoners, and immediately raised a tremendous din, shouting, catcalling, and making threatening gestures to the Italians. This was too much for many of the Italians who quickly disappeared below deck to get out of the way.

We had about 50 Indian soldiers to guard the prisoners, who were housed in 4 large troop decks. At night time there was barely room for all the prisoners to lie down together, each man having a deck space of about 2 feet by 6 feet. Every night it was my duty to make rounds of all the troop decks to check that all the dead lights on the port holes were closed (at night the ship was blacked out). This entailed entering each troop deck and walking all round to check each port hole. To do this it was necessary to step over the prisoners who were lying down. At the entrance to each troop deck were two Indian soldiers, armed with rifles, and it was their job to keep their eyes on me whilst I walked around. Prior to the arrival of the Italians all the ships' officers were given side arms. I had a 0.38 Smith and Wesson revolver which was carried in a holster made from canvas by one of the Lascar crew. Walking around the troop decks was not a pleasant job. As soon as I entered one, the talking would cease and I was concious that all eyes were upon me - a loud hissing noise would then start, which was their way of indicating their disapproval - I could never see who was making the noise as those nearest to me kept quiet and only-started to hiss when I had moved away.

We also had about 40 Italian officers, who were housed in the 2nd Class cabin accommodation. One of these was a General, who had been captured several months previously by one of our patrols, behind the Italian lines, whilst taking his wife to hospital to have a baby. They ate in the 2nd Class dining room, and I remember one evening seeing what happened at meal times. All the officers entered the dining room and took their places awaiting the General. When the General entered and reached his place at the head of the tables, he gave the Fascist salute, which was returned by the officers before they all sat down.

Meal times for the Italian soldiers were at 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. On each occasion they were given a kind of stew in a large enamelled mug, about the size of a pint pot. Knives and forks were not allowed, for security reasons. In addition, with the morning meal each man was given about half a loaf of bread. The meals were by no means a starvation diet, but nevertheless most of the time the prisoners were very hungry. On one occasion during the night the ship's bakery was raided and all. the bread stolen. I think most of us were very sorry for them but there wasn't much we could do about it. The Talma's Captain, Captain Carter, was instrumental in organising tug of war competitions for them, and giving prizes of cigarettes and oranges.

One day I got into conversation with a prisoner who was engaged in washing the paintwork outside my cabin. He could speak English quite well, and he showed me some photographs of his wife and young children, and the house in which he lived. He could have been a neighbour, back home - yet here he was with a uniform in tatters, having no shoes or boots, and obviously not all that well fed. I asked him why his uniform was in such a state and why he had no boots on. In his hesitant English, he told me he had been captured at Bardia by Australian troops who had recently arrived in North Africa and were keen on sending souvenirs back home. The Italian uniforms were rather flashy compared to our uniforms - some had yellow epaulettes as I remember - and the Aussies ripped off epaulettes, buttons, badges etc. to send back home. He said many of them were drunk on Italian wine they had captured at Bardia, and as a consequence many prisoners were badly treated. The Italian equipment was mostly poor compared to ours - however the Italian army boots, made of pigskin, were vastly superior, being more supple and comfortable, than those of the British or Australians. Apparently at Bardia, the Australians went round the prisoners measuring their feet against those of the prisoners and taking those boots which were of the right size. My prisoner finished off his story by saying to me in his broken English - "Australian soldier - bad man!"

At this time a number of large cruise liners were being used as troopships to carry Australian troops from Australia to Egypt for service in the Western Desert. Ships such as the Queen Mary and Nieuw Amsterdam could carry large numbers of troops in comparative safety because of their high speed. At first, they would call at Bombay for a day or so and let the soldiers spend a night ashore - however this was stopped after a number of instances of riotous behaviour ashore and the murder of some prostitutes. I remember going aboard the Nieuw Amsterdam one day, with our Marine gunner to have a look around. I believe we got aboard because our Marine wanted to talk to his opposite number on the Nieuw Amsterdam. We went into and walked around a troop deck full of Australian troops, many lying in their hammocks for want of anything better to do. Most of the time we had to walk in a crouched position to get under the rows of hammocks which were slung from hooks in the deck head. Suddenly I felt a great tug on one of my legs and the next thing I recollect was being flat on my back looking up at a soldier who was peering at me from his hammock, with a big grin on his face, I had put my foot into a rope noose lying on the deck. Needless to say there were great catcalls and much merriment all round. We were told they had lost several sergeants on the voyage up to Bombay - lost overboard during the night. We subsequently found out that this happened quite often on these ships.

After our arrival in Bombay, Pluto Inches was transferred to another B.I. ship. This was an awful blow for both of us - Pluto and I had been shipmates for over 18 months, and had become great pals. He eventually joined the Indian Navy, and Constance and I were delighted to see him when he turned up at our wedding in July 1947. Pluto was replaced by 2 other Cadets - Campbell, a Scot from Stirling, and an Indian Cadet in his final year.

Captain Carter would be in his late fifties, and although unmarried he was quite partial to the ladies. Quite often he would invite a lady, usually quite young, to have dinner with him in his cabin. One evening in Bombay I was told by the Captain to jump into a taxi, which was waiting on the quayside, and call at a flat to escort a lady back to the ship. The young lady was English, daughter of a Jockey who was living in Bombay, and talking to her in the taxi on the way back to the ship. I gained the impression she would be about the same age as myself.

On one occasion in Port Said, I happened to be on gangway duty at about 7 a.m., when a top secret envelope arrived for the Captain, from Naval Headquarters. I Knew that the Captain had a lady guest to dinner the previous evening, and that she was still aboard; consequently I was a bit apprehensive about disturbing him. However, I went to his cabin and knocked on the door, and in spite of repeated knocking could get no answer. I decided to see Chief Officer Weatherseed and give the envelope to him - he said it should be given to the Captain right away, and as I couldn't wake him up by knocking on his door, then I had no option but to enter his cabin and wake him up. The Captain's day cabin was quite large, with a doorway leading off to his sleeping quarters. I peeked through the curtains draping the doorway to his sleeping quarters and saw the Captain and his lady guest fast asleep and quite naked, with their arms around one another, lying on his bunk. I stepped back out of the line of vision and made repeated loud knocks on the cabin wall. Eventually the Captain appeared, quite naked, and took the envelope quite unconcernedly. I was much more embarrassed than he was.

The Gahrwols

After disembarking our Italian prisoners we remained in Bombay for about 10 or 12 days during which the ship was cleaned up, re-provisioned, and took on more coal. We then embarked a battalion of Gahrwol Rifles. The Gahrwols came from a small kingdom in the Himalayas on the northern boundary of India adjacent to Nepal. They were men of small stature, and looked like Gurkhas, with identical uniforms including the kukri knife and trilby-like hat. Their heads were closely shaven, except for a pigtail, about 6 inches long, which grew out of the top of their heads - so that their god could lift them up to heaven when they died. A Gahrwol would draw his kukri from its sheath - they were razor sharp - and let you examine it, provided you agreed to let him nick your finger and draw blood. I was told that in each village, every year, a young man is chosen to slice off the head of a bullock - if he does this with one blow of his kukri, good fortune will accrue to the village, next: years crops will flourish, and the young man will gain much honour. Like all Indian Army battalions, most of the officers were British. They were a very smart and impressive battalion.


Garwhal Rifles

We left Bombay for Aden towards the end of February 1941, where we were to join a convoy for the journey up the Red Sea. The convoy consisted of about 12 to 18 ships, and our escort consisted of 3 light cruisers - I think they were Orion, Ajax (New Zealand Navy) and one other I cannot recall.


HMS Ajax

In the Red Sea there was always the possibility that we could be bombed by Italian aircraft operating from Italian Somaliland or Eritrea, and in was decided to ask the army to provide additional lookouts. Accordingly the Gahrwols provided half a dozen lookouts around the upper decks. Each lookout was provided with a whistle and instructed to blow the whistle when he saw an aircraft, and point in the direction /— of his sighting. One day, when I was on Watch, on the bridge, a whistle blew and we all looked in the direction the Gahrwol was pointing. We could see nothing! - even with binoculars. After a short time, looking through the binoculars a seagull came into view!. This happened a number of times, and became such a nuisance that eventually it was decided to stand the lookouts down.

Because of the possibility of Italian submarines, the convoy progressed using the zig-zag technique. In the southern end of the Red Sea our air escort, such as it was, consisted of a Blenheim bomber from Aden which arrived every morning around 11.00 a.m. and which flew around the periphery of the convoy a couple of times before leaving us to return to Aden. One morning, shortly before the appointed time, a twin engined plane appeared and everyone thought "Good-0, its the R.A.F." — when suddenly the plane flew across the convoy and dropped a stick of bombs. A cargo ;->tdp of about 6000 tons about 3 ships astern of the Talma was hit, and listed sharply to starboard. Everyone in the convoy had been taken by surprise, including our cruiser escorts. The plane was in fact a twin engined Caproni bomber, which looked very similar to a Blenheim. Immediately after the bombs were dropped, every ship in the convoy which had any anti-aircraft armaments opened up on the Caproni. The Gahrwols opened up with about six Bren guns which were mounted around the decks of the Talma, and the cruisers opened up with their Bofurs and Chicago Pianos. It was a fascinating sight to see the Caproni, which was at a height of about 4000 feet, seemingly mounted on the top of a cone of smoke streamers created by the tracer bullets. I fully expected the plane to be shot down and dive into the sea, but to my own and everybody else's surprise it just carried on in what appeared to be a slow and sedate manner, without taking any evasive action, until it got out of range and finally went out of sight. I looked through a telescope at the ship which had been hit, and which by this time was well astern of the convoy - it had listed about. 20 degrees to starboard, the lifeboats on the starboard side had been lowered, and some of the crew could be seen clambering down rope ladders into the lifeboats. Some of them were carrying suitcases - it was quite common for Merchant Navy seamen to have small suitcase packed with such things as warm clothing, cigarettes, drinks etc. which could be grabbed in an emergency if the ship had to be abandoned. We left the bombed ship behind with one of the escorts which had gone over to presumably offer help. We later learned that the ship didn't sink; in fact the crew re-boarded and eventually it limped along to Suez under its own steam, unescorted. We also had. In the convoy, an Italian submarine which had been damaged by a small escort vessel and captured off Aden. It had a scratch Naval crew aboard and was accompanying the convoy to Suez. Every now and then the engines broke down and it found it difficult to keep up with the convoy. Eventually we left it behind, but it finally reached Suez safely.

Approximately half way up the Red Sea, the Talma left the convoy and made for Port Sudan, the main port of Anglo Egyptian Sudan, where we arrived about the beginning of March 1941. The Gahrwols immediately disembarked and set off, we found out later, for Eritrea, where they took part in the battle for Fort Keren. Keren was in an almost impregnable position - west of the town, in the path of the British, was a massive steep-sided escarpment of almost sheer rock, stretching north-south for hundreds of kilometres and rising in places to nearly 1800 m(6000ft) above sea level. There was only one way through it - the narrow, winding Dongolaas Gorge. On 2nd February the British, under Maj. General Platt started arriving at the foot of the escarpment. After fierce fighting, waiting for reinforcements(including the Gahrwols), Keren was eventually taken on 27th March 1941. The battle of Keren cost the Italians 3500 dead,, while Platt lost over 500 dead and 3000 wounded.

We stayed in Port Sudan about 4 days before returning once more to Bombay. Durincr that time Port Sudan was bombed by the Italians every day at precisely 11.00 a.m. and 4 p.m. - you could almost set your watch by it. Each time the bombing was /- carried out by 3 Caproni bombers from about 15,000 ft. One of the main targets was the R.A.F. air field, which at that time had only 3 Gloster Gladiator fighters. These were bi-planes which were slow and not able to reach the Italians. There were no anti-aicraft guns, and so for the Italians it must have been a soft target. One day a bomb hit a cache of oil drums on the perimeter of the airfield and the dense black smoke rose many thousands of feet into the air. That evening the Italian radio announced that the air field had been severely damaged "with dense smoke rising thousands of feet into the sky" - in fact very little damage had been done. During one of these tea-time bombing raids I was in a swimming pool, ashore. The Talma's Captain, Captain Carter was also in the pool, and he was became greatly excited when a piece of shrapnel landed in the water near him, making a big sizzling noise.

We made one more trip from Bombay to Port Sudan, this time carrying a Sikh battalion After disembarking the battalion, we were delighted to welcome aboard one of the Gahrwols' officers. He told us that his battalion was one of the first to enter Keren after fierce fighting - they had lost many men. Including about half the officers, and he had been sent back to Port Sudan to recuperate after being wounded. We made him very welcome and he was delighted to have his meals aboard - the Talma had. a big reputation for providing an excellent curry!.

It was on the way back to Bombay when I found out that my eyesight was deteriorating. I was on watch one morning - we were in the Indian Ocean - when the Officer of the Watch said to me "Why didn't you tell me about that ship over there". I couldn't see anything and said "What ship?". He said "Have a look through the glasses", and handed me his binoculars. I looked in the direction he was pointing, and saw the top part of a ship's mast sticking up over the horizon - without the binoculars I couldn't see the mast. It was decided that I should have a Board of Trade eyesight test when we got back to Bombay - it was vital to know if my eyesight had deteriorated, because it would be impossible for me to pass any Board of Trade examinations. If I couldn't pass the eyesight test. Before being taken on as a B.I. Cadet, I had taken the Board of Trade eyesight test, which I passed with no problems. I remember it was quite a rigorous test - in addition to reading letters, it consisted in having to determine the colour of two pinpoints of adjacent lights, each of which could be white, red or green. Reading the lights had been the most difficult part of the test.

I failed the test - which meant that my career in the Merchant Navy was finished. I would obviously be sent home. Although I had failed the test, I wasn't conscious that my eyesight had deteriorated - I just didn't have 20:20 vision. The eye specialist said I had developed slight short sight and astigmatism, but spectacles were not really needed. This was quite devastating - it meant that I would be sent home and presumably called up into the armed forces, and then when the war finished I would find myself back In civvy street, at the age of about 25 with no training whatever for any kind of job. For a short time I was very depressed, although the thought of going back home ameliorated my depression to some extent.

The Journey Home

At Bombay I was transferred to another B.I. ship - a cargo/passenger ship of about 10,000 tons - the name of which escapes me - which was scheduled to make its next trip back to the U.K. It was a great wrench to leave the Talma which had been my home for the last 18 months, on which I had had many interesting experiences and seen things which looking back were part of history in the making. It was also a blow to have to say goodbye to the Captain and ship's officers, who I had got to like and with whom, as time went by, I had developed a good working relationship.

We left Bombay about the end of April 1941 bound for the U.K. via the Cape of Good Hope. The only stops on the journey would be at Capetown and at Freetown, where we would join a convoy for the final leg to the U.K. The journey would take about 6-7 weeks, all being well.

There were 2 other Cadets on the ship - a senior Cadet named Jewitt, who had been on the Cadet ship Waroonga with me - he had completed his 4-year apprenticeship and was being sent back to the U.K. to take the exam, for his 3rd Mate's Ticket, and to get some leave. The other Cadet, whose name I forget, was being sent back to be invalided out - he had been wounded when the B.I. ship he was on had been bombed, resulting in him having a trepanning operation for a steel plate to be inserted in his skull, which occasionally caused him to have severe headaches.

There were very few passengers, with one or two from the Indian Civil Service.

The ship, like many of the larger ones at that time, had a 4 inch gun on the stern, for anti- submarine purposes. The main anti-aircraft armament we had was a first world war American Lewis machine gun. The other anti-aircraft gadget we had was one I was detailed off to operate - more about this later.

A Brush with a Raider

At this time German raider ships were operating in the South Atlantic and in the Indian Ocean. Nine merchant ships, disguised to look like neutral or Allied ships were packed with guns and torpedo tubes and given free rein to roam far and wide in search of Allied ships. They could change their appearance with collapsible funnels and dummy deck cargoes. One, Kormaron, was intercepted off Western Australia in November 1941 by the cruiser HMAS Sydney and in a slogging battle the two ships sank each other - all 645 men aboard the Sydney were lost, but 315 of the 400-strong crew of Kormaron made it to the Australian coast. The most famous of the raider's was Atlantis. It captured or sank 22 ships on a 110,000 mile trip around the world beginning in March 1940. It was eventually destroyed by HMS Dorsetshire in November 1941, while posing as a British merchantman. Captain Bernhard Rogge and most of his crew were picked up by a U-boat they had been about to refuel. Most of the raiders were eventually sunk - the last of them was the motor ship, Michel, formerly Polish, which sailed from Germany in early 1942 and sank 18 ships before being sent to the bottom by an American submarine.

We had similar ships at that time called Armed Merchant Cruisers - but they were mainly used on convoy escort duties to supplement naval escort vessels. Up to early 1941, several merchant ships in the Indian and South Atlantic oceans had been sunk by these raiders. I later learned that 2 of the Waroonga Cadets had been captured when a raider sank a B.I. ship in the Indian Ocean in 1940 - and they eventually ended up as prisoners of war in Germany, after the raider got back to Germany. One of the Cadets was called Simpson, who hailed from Ripon, Yorkshire -the other Cadet was called Thacker.

Every merchant ship carried a secret signal code book, issued by the Admiralty, which was changed at intervals. These code books were usually kept by the Ship's Captain in a weighted bag, with instructions that the bag must be thrown overboard if the ship was sunk or about to be captured. There were codes for most eventualities.

On the journey from Capetown to Freetown there was an incident which, at the time, was very alarming. Around 1600 hours the topmast of a ship was sighted, and so as was the normal practice for a lone merchant ship, we altered course to put our stern on to the other ship, and increased to full speed. To our alarm, the other ship also turned on to what appeared to be the same course as ourselves - at first it wasn't obvious whether she had turned on to our course or whether she had turned on to our course plus 180 degrees i.e. to go away from us. We watched anxiously! - after several minutes we realized the other ship had actually turned on to the same course as ourselves and was in fact gaining upon us, as its upperworks were starting to come into view. We immediately flashed by Aldis lamp, to the other ship, the signal "NNJ" in Morse code and waited for the answering signal "J", which would tell us that the other ship was friendly. These were the signals laid down in the Admiralty code book to be used to find out whether another ship was friend or foe. In spite of flashing "NNJ" several times - we got no return signal. We were now getting very alarmed, particularly as the other ship was obviously gaining upon us - although it was still hull down, from what little view we had of the upper works, it appeared, to be a large cargo ship. Our Captain decided to break radio silence, which could only be done as a matter of extreme urgency, and a radio signal, in code, was sent out saying we were being followed by a suspected German raider, and giving our position and that of the other ship. Our only hope was that dusk would come down before the Raider could come within range. Fortunately dusk did come to our aid in time - it falls very quickly in the tropics - and we eventually altered course. Fortunately in 1941, Radar was not installed on ships, otherwise I think we would have had it.

About 3 or 4 days after this, an Armed Merchant Cruiser appeared - she was a converted passenger ship of about 18,000 tons - and after the exchange of signals, by Aldis lamp, to establish that she was friendly, she asked us if we were the ship which had sent out the radio signals reporting a suspected raider. We replied that we were - upon which the AMC wished us good luck, and made off. Although we were never able to find out, we were convinced that the ship was a raider, and we believed that we had had a lucky escape.

Several days later we arrived at the port of Freetown, in North west Africa, and anchored out in the large bay. From all accounts Freetown was a pretty awful place, with nothing much to see or do ashore, and so everyone stayed aboard, apart from the Captain, who made the occasional trip to Naval Headquarters. We remained there for 4 or 5 days until ships had assembled to form a convoy for the journey to the U.K. All I can remember about Freetown was that it was stiflingly hot!

Atlantic Convoy

Eventually the time came for the ships in the bay to up-anchor, move out, and get into formation. I believe this would be about the third week of May 1941. The convoy consisted of about 36 ships, mostly cargo ships, of various shapes and sizes, formed into 6 lines, with 6 ships in each line. In each line the distance between each ship was about 400 yards, with a similar distance between each line of ships. Each ship towed a barrel upon which was mounted a dim red light - this was to help the ships to keep in line at night time. The Commodore Ship was a large passenger ship in the middle of the front row. Every convoy had a Commodore, usually a retired Naval Captain, who was in charge of the convoy. All orders emanated from the Commodore ship, usually in the form of a string of flags hoisted on a signal halyard.. The signals were in code (from the Admiralty code book), and when a signal was hoisted by the Commodore, each ship in the convoy hoisted a duplicate signal, to ensure that every ship in the convoy received the signal. The order was executed immediately after the signal was hauled down by the Commodore ship. The convoy's escort consisted of 5 Destroyers and Frigates.

On this voyage I carried out watchkeeping duties on the bridge - usually 4 hours on duty, and 8 hours off. One of my responsibilities whilst on watch was to take charge of the flag signals. On the bridge were racks of pigeon holes, with a pigeon hole allocated for each letter of the alphabet, and for each number from 0 to 9. In each pigeon hole was a flag, rolled up in such a way that the painter of the flag could be attached to the signal halyard, and to the next flag, so that the required string of flags could be connected together whilst they were still in the pigeon holes. Hauling on the signal halyard would pull the flags out of the pigeon holes which would then fly free as they were raised. A typical string of flags such as BFRS, when looked up in the codebook might signify "Alter course 90 degrees to starboard". When the flags were hauled down on the Commodore ship, every ship in the convoy would simultaneously turn 90 degrees to starboard.

When the convoy had reached the latitude of Northern Spain, we were joined by the battleship HMS Nelson. At about this time the German battleship Bismark, having sunk the battlecruiser HMS Hood was being sought by the British navy. It was thought to be making for one of the French Atlantic ports, but its exact whereabouts were unknown. There was a slight chance that the Bismark could stumble upon our convoy, on its way to France, and the Nelson had been ordered to join us just in case. During the daytime the Nelson took up a position in the middle of the convoy, so as to make it a more difficult target for a submarine. As dusk came she would leave the convoy to steam around at high speed during the hours of darkness; and as dawn approached she rejoined the convoy. We were very relieved to hear that the Bismark had been found and sunk - the date was 27th May 1941.

The convoy proceeded at its leisurely 11 knots - the top speed of the slowest ship, and during daylight proceeded in a zig-zag pattern, changing course at prearranged intervals, to make it difficult for submarines to get into a suitable position to carry out an attack. There were a number of different zig-zag patterns which could be used, and we had a clockwork timing device which could be set to ring a bell whenever a change of course was required. With a large convoy, changing course could be stressful time, bearing in mind the large number of ships, each of which had different sailing characteristics, turning radii etc., not to mention the fact that sometimes a ship would forget to alter course at the appointed time, or would do so sooner or later than the other ships. The bigger the change of course, the bigger was the danger.

In addition to submarines, there was also at that time the possibility of an air attack on the convoy. The anti-aircraft armament on our ship consisted of a World War I American Lewis gun, an elephant gun which was the possession of an Indian Civil Servant passenger who had obtained the Captain's permission to use it if there was an air attack, and an unbelievably crazy device for me to operate from the bridge. This device consisted of a pistol, remarkedly similar to a Very Light pistol, to the shell of which was attached a very fine gauge wire. The wire then led to a cellophane envelope, about 18 inches long, which was attached by a tape loop to my left wrist - several hundred feet of this wire was looped inside the envelope. The method of operation was for me to stand in the wing of the bridge and when the attacking German aircraft came swooping low down over the ship, machine gunning, I had to gauge the right time to fire the pistol, so that the aircraft would fly into the suspended wire with the result that its propeller would break up, and it would crash into the sea. Incidentally there was no mounting for the Lewis gun, which was very heavy, and the gunner was supposed to lift it up and fire it whilst it was resting on his shoulder. Fortunately, there was no occasion to use these things. However, these pitiful armaments did reflect how denuded of weapons Britain was at that time.

Our final destination, although we didn't know at the time, was to be the Firth of Clyde, and one morning as we were proceeding in a northerly direction, west of Ireland, the escorting Destroyer, about a mile in front of the convoy, signalled that she had contacted a suspected submarine on her Asdic equipment. The appropriate signal for a contact was the hoisting of a triangular black pennant on her signal halyard. The Commodore ship immediately hoisted a signal for all ships in the convoy to turn 90 degrees to starboard. When the signal was hauled down, all the ships started to turn to starboard - for the first 2 or 3 minutes the scene appeared, to be chaotic - ships appeared to be heading off at widely different angles, closing up on other ships etc. with imminent danger of collisions in several places. Fortunately the change of course was completed without any disasters, and the convoy was soon proceeding as planned on a course heading towards Ireland.

It was fascinating to watch how the escorts operated. Fortunately I happened to be on the bridge at the time and could see what happened using binoculars. The Destroyer that had made the initial contact suddenly accelerated and dropped several depth charges - although this must have been more than a mile away our ship appealed to get a terrific thump under the keel, and the whole ship shuddered. Having made its run, the Destroyer turned round 180 degrees and stopped - in the meantime one of the other escorts, which had raced up, made a similar high speed run and dropped another stick of depth charges, then turned 180 degrees and also stopped. I imagine that signals passed between the two escorts exchanging Adic bearings of the contact, because very shortly afterwards the first escort made another high speed run and dropped more depth charges. Unfortunately we were unable to see anything more, because by this time we were leaving the escorts far behind. The two escorts rejoined the convoy later on In the day, but we were not informed whether they had been successful in sinking a submarine, or indeed whether they had really made contact with a submarine.

The only other bit of excitement we had was when a mine drifted past our line of the convoy. It was, as expected, a large black spherical object with horns sticking out of it. Those ships equipped with machine guns fired at it as they passed, and rather disappointingly instead of blowing up, as I imagined it would, it just sank.

We eventually arrived in the Clyde and anchored somewhere close to Greenock. It was the beginning of June 1941, and I reflected that it was 22 months since I had left England, in peacetime, on what was supposed to be a voyage lasting 6 months. A lot of water had passed under the bridge since then - there had been many changes, and I had just had my nineteenth birthday.

I had not sent a letter home to tell them I was on my way, because I wanted to tell my parents the reason I was coming, face to face - also I thought I would be home as soon as any letter would be. It so happened that Mrs Hodgson, a friend of my mother's, had called in to see her and have a cup of tea, about ten days before I arrived. Mrs Hodgson, whose son was a Curate, read tea leaves, and on this day she read my mother's tea leaves. She said "Have you heard from Phil lately?", and my mother replied that she hadn't had a letter for several months, but thought I was in the Middle East somewhere. Mrs Hodgson said, "I can see him walking through your back door within the next two weeks!". It was, in fact, within ten days.

Part Four