British India Steam Navigation Company Ltd.

Journal By Cadet Philip Dilworth.

Joining Up


Probationary Temperary Acting Sub-Lieutenant (E) RNVR

I joined the Navy in March 1944 after graduating in Mechanical Engineering (B.Sc Hons.) at the University of Leeds. The examination results were announced in January, and having been in a reserved occupation as an engineering student, we were now given a choice to join either the Navy, the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers (REME), or The Ministry of Aircraft Production (MAP). I chose the Navy- REME didn't appeal to me because at that time they were having a lot of casualties in the desert in North Africa retrieving damaged tanks from the battlefield and repairing them-the MAP did not appeal because it seemed we would be spending most of the time sitting at a desk working a slide rule-and in any case I had already spent 2 years at sea as a Cadet in the Merchant Navy, before going to University, and I thought I would like to see what the real Navy was like.

In February, I received a summons from the Admiralty to attend an interview in London. It took place in a room in St. Anne's Mansions. The interviewer was a Commander(E) RN,-a jolly looking man, heavily built, with a red face. The interview lasted for about half an hour and was concerned mainly with Engineering topics.

In March I received my calling up papers as Probationary Temporary Acting Midshipman(E) RNVR with instructions to get myself kitted out with a uniform, and to report to the RN barracks at Portsmouth in about a fortnights time. (I remember getting my uniform from Austin Reed in Leeds).

Portsmouth

I arrived at Portsmouth railway station on a Sunday afternoon in early April. It was a lovely sunny afternoon and the way to the barracks was through a park. On every seat were sailors sunning themselves or chatting to girls. The sight of a trainload of young and obviously brand new Officers-was a source of much amusement and the occasional rude comment. At the barracks I was issued with a gas mask and identity disk, and was informed that my quarters were in the Wardroom Annexe-an hotel in Southsea, about a quarter of an hours walk away. The quarters turned out to be an hotel bedroom shared with three Sub Lieutenants RNVR. There were two sets of twin bunks-one above the other.

I spent 4 weeks at Portsmouth. Every morning after breakfast in the Annexe we walked to the barracks for a 9 o'clock start. On the barracks square we assembled in 'Divisions'-there must have been about 1500 people all told, Ratings, Wrens, Officers, Marines etc.-a motley collection of Naval personnel. The day started with a short service and hymn singing, followed by everybody jogging round the parade ground to tunes such as "I do like to be beside the seaside", played by a Marine band. After all this which lasted about half an hour, the parade was dismissed and the Divisions split up to go about their various duties.

There were seven other Mids.(E) in our group, all recent engineering graduates, and our days were fully occupied in various activities-drill on the parade ground, lectures on naval history and etiquette, how to write a letter to the Admiralty, man management etc. These lectures were interspersed with visits for short courses on ship firefighting, the handling of small arms etc. We were also taken on a conducted tour round HMS Victory-Nelson's flagship. On one of these visits-to look round a Destroyer-on our way through the dockyard, we noticed some large concrete structures floating in one of the docks. On querying what they were, our guide said he had been told they were to be towed to London after the war ended to be converted into flats to provide new homes for the blitzed Londoners. They were of course the pontoons which eventually formed the breakwater for Mulberry Harbour off Arromanche. It's amazing to think that we accepted this explanation at the time without question.

During the man management course, which lasted a week, each one of our group in turn, was called out from the classroom to drill a squad of seamen. When my turn came I saw a squad of about 30 seamen and a Warrant Officer, who was our Instructor for this part of the course. I noticed that every one of the seamen had at least one badge on his arm. This signified that every one of them had been in the Navy for at least 3 years. I also noticed that a lot of them were grinning. The Warrant Officer stood behind me and said "You are going to drill this squad-I will tell you what orders to give, Sirrr". Following his directions I got the squad marching off into the distance-they went on and on and on, and I thought if they go much further they will never hear my next command. Eventually I was told to about turn them, and thankfully the squad about turned and started to come back.

I thought it must have been a test for the power of my voice and felt quite pleased with myself. As the squad approached it slowly dawned on me that something was not quite right-and horror upon horror I eventually realised that a man was missing from the squad-there was a blank file-I began to sweat! "Stop them when they come alongside", said the Instructor from behind me, "And turn them to face you". I did this and was faced by a squad of seamen, half of them grinning away. I waited for the Instructor to tell me what order to give next-he didn't utter a sound-and I realised I would have to do something. I stood the squad at ease and looked across the parade ground in the direction the squad had marched back from-and there right on the edge of the parade ground was a seaman standing by a static water tank. I thought "Christ, I wonder if that's him", and yelled out as loud as I could "You there, come here!". Fortunately he heard me and came up at the double, (All ratings traversing the parade ground had to do this at the double). "Are you in this squad?" I said as firmly as I could. "Yes sir" he said. "Who gave you permission to fall out?" I said. "Nobody sir", he said. "Why did you fall out?", I said. "I don't know whether you know sir", he said, "but there were some goldfish in that static water tank and I was trying to find out if they were still alive." By this time all the squad were grinning, and I realised I had a problem. Fortunately I remembered in a previous lecture we had been told that a sailor was helpless without his paybook-he could not leave or enter the barracks without his paybook, he would not get any pay without it etc.,etc.-"What's your name?", I said. "Leading Seaman Jackson", he said. I then proceeded to tear a strip off him for falling out without permission, and asked for his paybook. "Report to the Master at Arms at 12.15" I said, and "Fall in". "Bring them to attention", said the Warrant Officer from behind me. "Left turn them, and set them off marching again". As they marched off it dawned on me that this was a put up job, and the squad had been specially briefed. They were really enjoying themselves-taking the mickey out of young greenhorn officers who had no sea time-with official blessing-a matelots dream! "Bring them back", said the Warrant Officer, when the squad had reached the other end of the parade ground. "About Turn", I yelled and was thankful when the squad turned obediently. As they were on the way back, I felt uneasy- something peculiar had happened-what was it?-I began to sweat again. "Christ!" I thought - the bastards have gone "left about" and not "right about"! (Afterwards, when I thought about it-the "left about" had been carried out beautifully, in perfect unison- they must have spent a lot of time practising it). The squad was approaching rapidly-I must do something, I thought, and sweated a bit more. "Halt them" said the Warrant, "turn them to face you, and stand them at ease". I did this and said to the squad "In the Royal Navy when you about turn you go 'right about' and not 'left about'. You went 'left about'. From now on you will always go 'right about'. If you manage to go 'right about' as well as you went 'left about' you will be very good". I tried to sound self composed and confident, but I don't think it quite came off, and some of them were still smiling. The next time they marched off, I decided I would get my own back, and so I started them off at the double. After a short time the Warrant said "That's enough, bring them down to normal pace". I lost another member of the squad on the edge of the parade ground-this time when I found him and called him over he said that he had a hole in his pocket and was looking for a sixpence he had lost. Once more I went through the pretence of telling him off, and asked for his paybook. My session drilling the squad lasted about half an hour, after which I formally reported to the Instructor what had happened (which seemed a waste of time really, seeing that he had been standing 6 feet behind me for the whole time), and handed to him the two paybooks. He told me the two Seamen would be appropriately dealt with, which I thought was a nice choice of words. I then returned to the classroom and was replaced by another Midshipman from my group, who was subjected to a similar experience.

One of the people who shared my room in the Annexe was a Sub Lieu-tenant(E) called Jack Hart. He had the bunk above mine. He was an ex apprentice from Fairfield's shipyard in Glasgow. Little did I know at the time that I would be seeing a lot of his home town in the near future. Jack was the Engineer on a Tank Landing Craft-training for D Day. He told me that on his first trip as Engineer whilst sailing down the Clyde, his skipper asked him to trim the ship as it was sailing with bows down. Trimming the ship involved pumping water from a tank at one end of the ship to a tank at the other end. Jack had never done this before and his hand must have been a bit too heavy on the controls because in a short while his ship was proceeding with the bows up in the air and the stern almost awash. His skipper was very annoyed. We hit it off and got on very well together, and during the evening on our time off we usually went around together-for a meal, to the odd dance hall, or to a pub. Like ships that pass each other by, I never saw him again after I left Pompey-I've often wondered what happened to him, and hope he survived D Day.


Whale Island, Portsmouth

I will never forget a day we had at Whale Island-on a ships' firefighting course. After a number of lectures and demonstrations on how to put out various fires, and how to use the Salvus breathing apparatus, we were taken to a building called the 'double-decker' to take part in a firefighting exercise. The double-decker was about the size of a small house, with an upstairs and a downstairs, and with four compartments on each floor. There were no windows and the whole building was made out of sheet steel plates welded together. The idea was to simulate the below deck compartments of a ship. There was a steel ladder on one wall which led on to the flat roof. Working in teams of four, and starting on the roof, the exercise consisted of entering the building, finding the source of an oil fire which had been lit in one of the downstairs compartments, and extinguishing the fire with the jet of a fire hose. We were a mixed bunch of Midshipmen(E)'s, Petty Officers, E.R.A.'s and Stokers dressed in oilskins, and our Instructor was a Chief Stoker. We were told it was imperative to make sure that our Salvus set was operating correctly and that the face mask fitted properly-the Chief checked each one of us by squeezing the rubber tube connecting the oxygen cylinder to the mask to see if we could still breathe. Once inside the double-decker, we were told there would be no oxygen, it would be pitch black, and it would be extremely hot. One of the Petty Officers said he didn't want to take part in the exercise and was excused. We worked in teams of four. The lead man carried the hose nozzle, with number two following about four yards behind carrying the hose, and number three four yards behind number two. The fourth member of the team remained on the roof by the fire hydrant to turn the water on when required. As it was impossible to see anything because of the thick black smoke, everything had to be done by touch. On reaching the bottom of the vertical ladder from the roof into the first compartment it was then necessary to keep close to the bulkhead and follow it around until a doorway was reached leading into the next compartment. We proceeded in this way, caterpillar fashion, through two compartments until the lead man could see the oil lire through a hatch in the deck-the fire was on the floor below. On seeing the fire, the lead man put the nozzle on the deck and using the hose as a guide worked his way back to number two, tapped him on the shoulder and yelled "water on"-he then worked back along the hose to the nozzle and waited for the water to come on. Number two followed the hose back to number three and similarly passed the message on to number three. He then worked his way back along the hose until he reached the lead man so that he could help in steadying the nozzle when the pressure came on. Number three carried out the same procedure and passed the message to number four, who by this time was standing at the bottom of the vertical ladder leading to the flat roof, ready to mount the ladder and turn the water on at the hydrant. In my particular exercise I was the number two- encumbered with oilskins and a Salvus breathing set, not being able to see anything at all, knowing that you totally dependent on the Salvus set operating properly, and with the intense heat-it was a traumatic experience, and I was glad when the exercise was over. The exercise vividly demonstrated the difficulties of fighting a ship's fire-I certainly hoped I would never have to tackle a real fire, and I'm sure this went for the rest of the squad.

One day we assembled at a swimming pool and were issued with life jackets. The standard Navy life jacket was an inflatable rubber contraption covered with a thick navy blue cloth. Uninflated, it was about six inches wide and two feet long with tapes attached at each end. We were instructed how to put it on and inflate it. When worn and inflated it fitted around the chest, tied at the back with the tapes, and held up in position with a tape around the back of the neck. Normally at sea, the life jacket was worn uninflated. Attached to it was a whistle, and a small red lamp which came on automatically when immersed in the sea. It was inflated by blowing down a long flexible rubber tube which had a valve on the end. We were then issued with some briefs and eventually assembled in four rows at the deep end of the pool wearing the inflated Me jacket, with instructions to jump in and make our way to the other end of the pool. For those of us who could swim this was no problem-I was surprised at the number who couldn't swim. These people were urged to jump in by the P.T. instructors-there were about four instructors, each holding a long pole with a brass hook on the end, which they used to propel the non-swimmers along to the end of the pool. Any non swimmers who refused to jump in were pushed in by the instructors as a last resort.

The four weeks at Portsmouth passed remarkedly quickly-our days had been very full, and I had enjoyed the experience better than I thought I would. I was sent home on leave, having been informed that my next appointment would be to a shipyard for further training.

Yarrows Shipyard-Glasgow

After about a week at home, I received my next appointment. I was instructed to report to the Captain(E) R.N. at Yarrows shipyard, Scotstoun, Glasgow. The Captain turned out to be Captain(E) Le Poidevih R.N. Retd. He was a Channel Islander, small and wiry, about sixty years old, with piercing blue eyes. I got to like him a lot. Two other Mid(E)'s RNVR turned up, both recent engineering graduates like me. One was from Birmingham, and the other from Barbados called King. For the life of me I can't remember the name of the one from Birmingham. The Captain told us that we would get practical experience working in the boiler shop, machine shop, and in the fitting out basin. Three months would be spent in each place. Digs had been arranged for us at a Mrs Dick's near Victoria Park in Scotstoun. Before going off to find our digs, the Captain took us to the main offices and we were introduced to Sir Philip Yarrow, the owner of the shipyard.

Our digs were in a road on the edge of Victoria Park, about a quarter of an hours tram ride from Yarrows-I think the road was called Victoria Park Avenue but I can't be sure. The house was a solidly built stone terrace house with a small garden in front. Mrs Dick was a tall, slim, rawboned looking woman, in her late forties-a typical looking Scot. Her husband, Alec, was a small rotund man with a ruddy face-he worked in the accounts department of Stewarts and Lloyd, the tube manufacturer. Whereas Mrs Dick was a bit of a martinet, her husband was very pleasant. It was quite obvious however that Mrs Dick was the power in the household.

Yarrows was (and still is) a small shipyard with a reputation for quality workmanship, and especially known for the Yarrow water tube boiler. It had a long association with the Navy and had built many of the smaller ships over the years. In 1944 it was building 'C' and 'B' class destroyers- Cassandra and Cavalier were two of the 'C' class and these were followed by Battleaxe and Broadsword.


HMS Battleaxe

Every day except Sunday we caught the tram at the end of the road, to start work at 8 a.m. The three of us went to work in civvies, and we changed into boiler suits in a little store room which had been allocated to us. After a week or so we came to realise the place was overrun with rats-the buttons on our boiler suits which we left overnight in the store room were being gnawed away quite quickly. Every now and again it became necessary to sew on new buttons.

Boiler Shop

I spent the first three months in the boiler shop, where I was attached to a team of six boilermakers. They were a tough bunch-two from the Gorbals- and for the first week or so they regarded me with a good deal of suspicion. I was a Sassenach-a word I had not heard before-and they seemed to have a lot of difficulty in understanding what I said to them. Communication wasn't easy, because I had as much difficulty understanding their broad Glaswegian-which I had never experienced before-as they presumably had of understanding my slight Yorkshire accent. They were a bolshy lot and at first I was convinced I was working with a bunch of out and out communists. However as time passed, and as they got used to me, I gradually became accepted by them as a proper member of the team. For my part, I soon realised that my first impressions of them were completely wrong, and that deep down they were no more bolshy than I was. At the end of my three months with the squad I felt completely at home with them and was sorry to leave.


Yarrow Boiler

The squad was engaged in building a Yarrow boiler for one of the destroyers. A Yarrow water tube boiler consisted of a steam drum and two water drums connected by a large number of tubes about 1.5 diameter. The steam drum was about 4.5 to 5.0 feet in diameter and the water drums were about 2.5 to 3.0 feet in diameter. All three drums were about 15 feet long. Viewed from the front, the boiler was in the shape of a isosceles triangle, with the steam drum positioned at the top of the triangle, and the water drums at the two bottom angles. Our job was to fit the tubes connecting the steam and water drums into position and expand each end into the drum walls. Expanding was carried out using a pneumatically operated expanding tool. This was an awkward job, especially in the water drums, which had to be entered through a small manhole, where the space was very restricted, and which meant the expanding had to be done lying on one's back or side. It could also get very warm after a while-I remember on one occasion a rather heavy member of the squad found he couldn't get out through the manhole, and so they threw a couple of buckets of cold water over him, and he then made it through the manhole. Attached to the Boiler Shop was a place called the Loft. I spent about a month here. It was here where full size templates were made, scaled up from drawings, of the steel plates required to form the ship's hull.

Machine Shop

This was where much of the ships' machinery was fabricated-steam turbines, pumps, valves etc. The machine shop was a much more pleasant place to work in, than the boiler shop. It was cleaner, warmer, and much better lit. I did a variety of jobs, and it was here I learned how to weld- both gas and electric welding. I was also taught how to solder, and how to sif-bronze. During my last three weeks in the machine shop I was engaged in making segments of turbine blades. The job consisted in sif- bronzing the turbine blades to the inner and outer rims of the segment. Each segment consisted of about eight or ten blades. Most of the people on this job were young women and apprentices. They were a very friendly, hard working lot. I remember getting into trouble with one of the girls on one occasion-quite innocently-sometimes quite jovially, they would refer to me as a sassenach which was O.K. as far as I was concerned-but on one particular occasion I happened to say that before coming to Scotland I had always thought of Scotland as being b'ke another county-like Lancashire. This remark unleashed a storm of invective, which rather shook me-"That's the trouble with you Sassenachs," she said, "You think we're part of England, and we're not. We are a different country." I have been careful ever since!

I remember one day when the Captain(E) was walking round the machine shop, he came across a fitter filing the square (for the handwheel) on the end of a valve spindle-the square had been machined too small and so it had been sif-bronzed and was being filed to the correct size. The Captain blew up, his face turned deep purple, and having sent for the foreman, gave him a big dressing down and told him the Navy would not accept such a botched up job. The spindle was scrapped.

Fitting Out Basin

My last three months were spent in the fitting out basin. This was a dock in which the ships were fitted out with their engines, boilers, propellers etc. after they had been launched. I was attached to a fitter called Sandy Alexander and his apprentice. I got on well with both of them. Our job was to fit the plummer block for one of the propeller shafts. The plummer blocks were large bearings which transmitted the thrust from the propellers to the ship's hull. A lot of time was spent in grinding the bed plates for the plummer blocks-these had to be perfectly smooth and flat, and blueing paste was used to check this. The working conditions were pretty foul- particularly as it was late Autumn-plenty of rain and fog on the Clyde. Our job was at the bottom of the ship which had to be reached by makeshift wooden ladders going through holes in the various decks. We had to be very careful when moving about inside the hull, as the lighting was makeshift and poor, and it was easy to trip up over the multitude of cables and hoses which were snaking about all over the place-cables for lighting and welding, and air hoses which were required for the pneumatic tools. It was quite an experience working at the bottom of the ship with water dripping down and occasionally showers of sparks, when welders were working overhead.

After about ten weeks in the fitting out basin, the other two Mid(E)'s and I were sent to Clydebank to join a new destroyer built by Yarrows, which had been commissioned by the Navy and was undergoing sea trials before being finally handed over to the Navy. The ship (I think the destroyer was HMS Cassandra) carried many shipyard people as well as Navy personnel. During the trials, our job was to record various bearing temperature and to look for and log any water, oil, and steam leaks which appeared. The highlight for me was doing a high speed trial over the measured mile off Ailsa Craig, after which the helm was put hard over, when the ship was going flat out.


HMS Cassandra

This was frightening-the ship heeled over more and more as we went into the turn and whilst hanging on for dear life, it seemed to me that it was going to keep on heeling over and would eventually turn turtle. I was told the ship's gunnels were under water at one stage-and I guess we must have heeled over about 45 degrees. I believe the ship's speed over the measured mile was in the order of 33-34 knots.

Life at Yarrows was interesting. Work went on round the clock. In addition to the day work, there was a full night shift-with about 400 people on each shift. The foremen were regarded as Gods-they had immense power, and their symbol of power was a bowler hat. On one occasion when a ship was being launched, a wire cable snapped and in the twinkle of an eye, whipped back and neatly removed the bowler from the head of one of the foremen. After a stunned silence, the assembled throng erupted with a roar of approval that could be heard miles away. This happening was a source of discussion and glee for weeks.

Compared to the present day, working conditions were harsh and primitive. Tea breaks were not allowed-nevertheless every apprentice seemed to have a tin can with a wire handle and a lid. Every morning and afternoon, at 11.00 and 3.00 o'clock respectively, apprentices could be seen scurrying about the yard carrying one of these cans. It was their job to brew up the tea for the tradesman they were working with, and they did this by putting the can on one of the fires used for heating up the rivets, which were dotted about all round the yard. It was imperative of course, that they were not spotted by a foreman. Consequently their progress through the yard consisted in running to the corner of a building, peering round the corner to make sure no foremen were about, and carrying on like this to their final destination.

The toilets in the yard were very primitive-I remember one which consisted of a number of long planks of wood joined lengthwise, with holes in them about 3 feet apart. Underneath the plank was an open drain channel through which ran a continuous flow of water. For privacy there was a cubicle round each hole in the planks. A favourite ploy of the apprentices especially around the New Year, was to mount a lighted candle on a block of wood and insert it into the upstream end of the drainage channel, preferably when the toilets would be fully occupied.

At the end of the day, hands were cleaned by pouring oil over them, dipping them in a bucket of sand, rubbing them together, and then holding the hands under a water tap to wash the oil and sand mixture off.

There was no canteen at the yard-at lunchtime we used to dash to a small cafe just outside the Works gate, and buy a meat pie or a sandwich. Most of the workpeople took their own sandwiches-Marmite sandwiches were very popular.

In the Machine Shop a favourite pastime was to make cigarette lighters out of odd scraps of copper tube and metal bars. I remember making one under the guidance of one of the apprentices-I also made a money box in the form of a pillar box, from a piece of brass tubing, which I still have to this day.

Recreation

Rather surprisingly my recollections of recreational activities whilst I was in Glasgow are very few. In addition to the 3 Mid(E)s' at our digs, there was an army Lieutenant in the Intelligence Corps. At night the living room, which wasn't very big, was rather crowded as can be imagined, particularly as Mr and Mrs Dick rarely went out. One of the Mid(E)'s was going strongly with a local girl and consequently he was hardly ever in at night. Quite frequently the other Mid(E) (the one from Barbados called King) and I would take the tram into Glasgow to go to the cinema, a pub, or very occasionally to a dance hall off Argyll Street. In those days some of the pubs in Glasgow were rather forbidding places-some had sawdust on the floor and spittoons-many of the characters seemed rather sinister and often half drunk-their favourite tipple was 'a pint and a wee half, i.e. a pint of beer and a measure of whisky. There never seemed to be much conversation and it was a bit disconcerting to enter a pub where you could hear a pin drop and be eyed up and down by half drunk characters propping the bar up.

Saturday nights in Glasgow were very lively especially round Sauchiehall and Argyll streets. However in certain spots especially after dark in the blackout it could get rough-one such spot was where the railway bridge crossed over Argyll Street near the Union Station-one of the Yarrow fitters was slashed across the face, mugged, and robbed here, one Saturday night.

I had never been very good at ballroom dancing and so I thought this would be a good opportunity to do something about it. I signed up to have 6-1 hour lessons on the slow fox-trot, at the biggest and most well known dance hall in Glasgow. The name of it escapes me. I imagined I would have the services of a glamorous hostess all to myself for an hour every Saturday afternoon, and turned up for my first lesson in eager anticipation. To my great disappointment my partner turned out to be a middle aged man about 6 inches shorter than myself-who took the ladies part. However he turned out to be a very good teacher and at the end of the six lessons we were gliding around the empty dance floor like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers. It was a wonderful sensation-like floating on a cloud. However I came down to earth when I came to put my new found knowledge into practice with a different partner and on a crowded dance floor. Six steps into my routine and then we bumped into somebody-start off again and the same thing happened-I could never manage to complete the routine I had been taught. I have never been able to do the slow foxtrot since-although I can still recall the wonderful sensation of floating on a cloud. If I remember rightly the course of lessons cost me £ 1.

One day Sandy Alexander's apprentice asked me if I would like to go out to the ice skating rink with him and some of the other apprentice. I told him I had never tried ice skating before but would like to come. He said that didn't matter and they would teach me. We met one Saturday afternoon at the Paisley ice rink, and they proceeded to teach me-they were very good holding me up and towing me around the rink. Eventually I was able to move around the rink on my own without falling down too often. Just before the end of the session a couple of the boys grabbed hold of me and proceeded to accelerate until we reached the centre of the ice rink when they let go. At the time, it seemed to me that I must have been close to the speed of sound when I hit the board surrounding the rink. However the boys made it up to me afterwards, by buying me a drink.

Eventually our training came to an end and at the end of February (1945) the three of us were sent on leave to await our next appointments. I never saw Mid King again, but I bumped into the other one in October the following year at Billingham when I was being interviewed for a job with I.C.I. He wasn't successful and so that was the last time I saw him. I was quite sorry to leave Yarrows, in a way, because I had received a good training there, and made a lot of good friends.

Naval Transport

After about ten days leave at home in Castleford, I received my next appointment. I was informed that I had been promoted to Probationary Temporary Acting Sub Lieutenant(E) R.N.V.R. and that I was to join H.M.S. Berwick. My instructions were to report to the Sea Transport Officer- Liverpool, in about 3 days time. In the meantime I had to get a wavy stripe sewn on to my sleeves by Austin Reed in Leeds. I knew that H.M.S. Berwick was a County Class Cruiser of about 10,000 tons, but I had no idea where she was.

I reported to the S.T.O's office at Lime Street station, and shortly after that found myself on a Naval Transport with about 4,000 other Naval personnel. The ship was the PfcO passenger liner, Strathnaver, which had been converted to a troopship.


HMT Strathnaver

I found myself sharing a large cabin with about 20 Fleet Air Arm aircrew. They were all Sub Lieutenants R.N.V.R like myself, pilots and observers in the same squadron, who had received their training in Canada. They were a very lively lot, most of them being ex Grammar School about 19 or 20 years old. Our bunks were in 2 tiers and a favourite pastime of theirs was to pretend to be monkeys and swing around the stanchions leaping from one set of bunks to another. I subsequently found out they had lost several of their course members in accidents whilst training to fly Buccaneers.

We knew we were going out East but that was all we knew-we had no idea where, although we believed it must be to either India or Ceylon. In the event it turned out to be Colombo in Ceylon. We left Liverpool the day after I joined the ship early on a dull and misty morning, and very soon formed up in a convoy of about 20 ships. At Gibraltar we left the convoy and proceeded independently through the Med. to Ceylon via the Suez Canal and Red Sea. The journey took about 3 weeks and during that time we were not able to go ashore at any of our ports of call.

We had about 300 Wrens aboard and consequently there was a problem in keeping the sexes apart-patrols were instituted to patrol the upper decks, particularly at night. A favourite spot for couples was under the covers of the lifeboats on the upper deck. Apart from occasional lifeboat drills I had no duties to perform and the journey was relatively tranquil. We ate-cafeteria style-in the 1st class restaurant, and most nights were spent in the 1st class lounge where there was a bar. During the daytime most of the time was spent on the upper deck either reading or playing deck games-especially when we entered warmer climes.

A few incidents I recall-a Sailor became seriously ill and there were numerous calls one night for volunteers to give blood transfusions. Unfortunately he died the following day and I attended my first burial at sea. Most of the people aboard were carrying on with their usual activities until the time came to commit his body to the sea. The ship's Tannoy then called for a minutes silence which was terminated by a bugler playing the Last Post. The usual activities were then resumed as if nothing had happened. It all seemed a bit hard-hearted, but I suppose there was no other alternative. That evening the Sailor's personal effects were auctioned off in the 1st class lounge. This apparently was the normal practise for a Sailor dying abroad- the money raised being sent to his dependents. Although there were very few personal effects the money raised was considerable.

One occasion I shall never forget was an evening in the 1st class lounge when a Wren officer played "While sheep do gently graze" on the piano. There was the usual hubbub of a large smoke-filled crowded lounge when she started to play, but gradually the noise subsided until eventually there was a complete silence apart from the haunting notes from the piano. Whether it was the wonderful rendering of the tune, or the circumstances we were all in at the time, or both, I don't know, but I believe most of the people there felt the same emotions as I did-a mixture of romanticism, nostalgia, and loneliness perhaps.

A short time after leaving Liverpool when I was on the high seas to join (as I thought) the Berwick, a telegram arrived at my parent's home in Castleford addressed to me. It was from H.M.S. Berwick and it informed me that I was 48 hours overdue and unless I reported within a further 24 hours I would be court-martialled. My parents were alarmed- they had no idea where I was-and so my father telephoned the Admiralty in London. Eventually he was put through to a Wren officer who made a note off all the details and promised to ring back when everything had been sorted out. Three days later she rang back to say that everything was in order-no need to worry-I would not be court-martialled. I didn't find out about this until I arrived back home about 9 months later.

We eventually sailed into the harbour at Colombo at about the end of March (1945) and I received orders to report to the Fleet Engineer Officer, East Indies Fleet, in Colombo.

H.M.S. Lanka

I have vivid memories of walking into the Fleet Engineer's office, saluting, and saying "Sub Lieutenant Dilworth reporting to join H.M.S. Berwick, Sir". The Fleet Engineer was a Commander(E) R.N. He was a pleasant looking fellow sitting behind a large desk. He said "What ship, Sub.?". I said "H.M.S Berwick, Sir". He laughed and said "We've never seen the Berwick out here this war, there must be some mistake! Let me look at your papers". I handed over my Appointment, and after perusing it he said, "There has obviously been a mistake, the Berwick's in the Home Fleet! Well, never mind we are short of Engineers, we'll soon find you a ship - in the meantime you had better stay in Lanka".

H.M.S. Lanka was a Naval establishment on the outskirts of Colombo, and I soon found myself sitting in a large tent on a portable cot waiting for a ship. I was a bit annoyed because in the Home Fleet you could get leave every 3 months whereas God alone knew how often it would be in the East Indies Fleet. I was courting Constance very strongly at the time and so the thought of not being able to see her for a long time, hurt very badly.

I spent a week in Lanka-there wasn't much to do-and most of the time was spent either reading, writing letters, playing cards with the other inmates, or going into Colombo to look around and have a drink and a meal.

On one of the trips into Columbo I decided to buy a present for Conk. I had a bit of cash available which had accumulated on the trip out from England. There were numerous jewellery shops in Columbo and I eventually chose a ruby pendant with a gold chain. However, after having bought the pendant I was a bit worried as to whether the 'ruby' was a ruby or a bit of coloured glass. I had previously seen a notice in the Fleet Club warning people about dud jewellery being sold. I didn't quite know how to proceed to establish whether the pendant was genuine or not-but I finally took my courage in both hands and decided to ask what appeared to be the poshest jewellers in Columbo if they would value it for me. The man I saw was an elderly Englishman who shook his head and said they didn't normally do this sort of thing-if the other traders found out it could make things awkward for them.

However he must have taken pity on me because he finally agreed to look at the pendant with the proviso that I didn't divulge to anyone that he had examined it. After a short examination, he pronounced what I had feared-the 'ruby' was indeed a piece of coloured glass. I thanked him and offered to pay for his valuation but he refused to accept anything. I now had a problem-how to get my money back? I returned to the shop where I had bought the pendant, and said that I had changed my mind and wanted my money back. The shopkeeper said this would not be possible and asked why I wasn't satisfied with the pendant. I told him that I had shown the pendant to a friend of mine who was very knowledgeable about gem stones, and he had pronounced that the ruby was a fake. The shopkeeper denied the ruby was a fake and refused to take it back. I then decided to play my joker although I wasn't very confident it would do anything. I said, as he could see I was an Officer in the Royal Navy, and there was a notice in the Fleet Club warning sailors about some shops selling fake jewellery-if he refused to take back the pendant I would take this matter up with the Naval authorities with the object of naming his shop as one of those selling fake jewellery. I reminded him that I had the proof-the pendant and the shop's receipt. To my great relief he fell for my spiel, and gave me my money back. I knew of course that the Naval authorities would most probably have said it was my own damn fault and done nothing, if I had approached them. Anyhow, with great relief I went straight back to the posh jewellery shop and bought a blue and white sapphire pendant which Conk has to this day.

H.M.S. London


On board HMS London. David Williams centre, Philip Dilworth on the right.

My appointment eventually came through-to H.M.S. London-another County Class Cruiser. I caught the train that night for Trincomalee where the London was anchored out. The train left at 8.00 p.m. and arrived at 8.00 a.m. the following morning.

There were very few passengers on the train-I had a 1st class compartment to myself, equipped with a chair, bunk and wash basin. There was no corridor on the train. It was dark when we set off and so I turned in after a short time. At 6 o'clock the following morning the train stopped in what seemed to me to be the middle of the jungle. There were trees within a few yards on either side of my carriage. Suddenly there was a knock on the carriage door and to my surprise I saw a white coated steward holding a tray which he handed up to me before vanishing back along the track towards the engine. Within a short time the train started off again. There was a full breakfast on the tray-fruit juice, fried egg, bacon and tomatoes, toast and marmalade, and a pot of tea. By this time it was light and I spent the rest of the time viewing the scenery-mainly jungle with every now and again a few monkeys swinging about in the trees.

We arrived at Trinco on time and I climbed aboard a Navy truck which deposited me on a jetty in the harbour area. I think it was called Tiger Bay, but I can't be sure about this. Within a short time one of the London's motor boats arrived to take me out to the ship which was anchored out in the middle of the harbour. There was a vast armada of ships in the bay including a couple of Battleships, several Cruisers, a submarine depot ship, and at least two 'Woolworth' Carriers.

I arrived on the London just as the ship's Commander was being piped ceremoniously over the side. I learned later that he had just been relieved and replaced by a new Commander R.N. There was a lot of jollity and light -heartedness-apparently he had been a very popular Commander with the ship's company.

I reported to the Engineer Commander in the Engineers Office- Commander(E) Shorto R.N.-a Channel Islander-who greeted me in a friendly way. I later grew to have a lot of respect for him. He told me I would be a member of the Wardroom, as I was a bit older than the usual Sub. Although there were other Sub Lieutenants (mostly R.N.V.R.) in the Wardroom, I was the youngest. He also told me that he had managed to get hold of a cabin for me-this was an achievement as the ship was very crowded.


HMS London with three funnels

The cabin was in the midshipman's chest flat right in the stern of the ship. To get to it one had to climb through a hatch in the deck just forward of the Captain's cabin. The chest flat was a large space about 20 feet square with a number of solid chests bolted to the deck. In peacetime this space was used as a classroom, but at this time it was being used as a storage area for officer's luggage. My cabin was at the stern end of the flat-it was about 8 feet long and 6 feet wide and contained a bunk with 2 drawers underneath, a narrow wardrobe, and a small collapsible washbasin. It was located directly above one of the 4 propeller shafts close to the propeller. At sea there was a continuous racket from the prop shaft and from the cavitation caused by the propeller itself-in addition there was a lot of vibration, and being right in the stern, in a rough sea, it pitched up and down as though on the end of a see-saw. However it is amazing what one can get used to-after a few days it never bothered me.


HMS London in Valetta with Two funnels

H.M.S. London's home base was Chatham. The ship was launched in 1927 and the original design was for a crew of 650. When I joined it the ship's complement was approx. 850-the increase being caused by extra anti-aircraft armaments, and by radar equipment which had been added. In 1939/40 (I believe), an extensive refit was carried out at Chatham which resulted in a radical alteration to the ship's silhouette. The three rather narrow funnels were replaced by two chunkier ones which greatly improved the looks of the ship, the bridge structure was altered, and additional armour plating was added. Like all the County Class Cruisers the London had a high freeboard and the resultant spaciousness below decks made it a more comfortable ship to serve in than the modern Cruisers-especially in the tropics. On the downside of course, it presented a bigger target than the more modern Cruisers. The main armament was eight-8 inch guns in four turrets. The secondary armament was twelve-4 inch guns, and then of course there were a number of Bofors and Chicago Pianos. There were also eight torpedo tubes in 2 banks of four. The main engines consisted of four steam turbine sets (an H.P. and L.P. turbine per set)-each turbine set driving one propeller through a reduction gear. There were two engine rooms, each containing two turbine sets, and two boiler rooms, each containing four Yarrow water tube boilers. Other machinery spaces throughout the ship contained steam turbine driven electricity generators, refrigeration and air conditioning equipment, steering gear, domestic machinery etc. The ship carried four motor boats, one of which was reserved for the Captain, and known as the Captain's Motor Boat.

Initially I was instructed to make myself familiar with the ship's machinery, and with the layout of the steam, oil and water piping. A Chief Stoker called Harlow helped me with this. Chief Stoker Harlow was responsible for the filling, pumping out, and keeping check of the contents of all the oil and water tanks in the ship, and had a diagram which he had drawn himself, showing the layout of the piping and the position of all the tanks and valves in the ship. I spent several days making a copy of this diagram and tracing the actual piping throughout the ship. The Chief Stoker had served about 20 years in the navy, and told me it was his ambition to own a small chicken farm in the country when he left the navy.

Bombardment of Sabang


HMS Queen Elizabeth. Note the early warning radar system on headland

About 4 days after joining the ship, we set off with other ships of the East Indies Fleet to bombard the harbour of Sabang, which is a small island on the northern tip of Sumatra at the entrance to the Malacca Straits, which lead down to Singapore. The Flagship was the Battleship Queen Elizabeth, and the other ships to carry out the bombardment were the French Battleship Richelieu, and the two County Class Cruisers, Cumberland and London. To provide air cover there was a 'Woolworth' Aircraft Carrier and six Destroyers acted as escorts. The journey across the Bay of Bengal took about 3 days, and the night before the attack 'Orders of the Day' were posted up on the ship's notice boards. The Orders said that Reveille would be at 0500 hrs, breakfast at 0530 hrs, Action Stations at 0630 hrs. The ships Queen Elizabeth, Richelieu, Cumberland, and London, would steam in line ahead, 6 miles off the harbour. Firing would commence by the Queen Elizabeth at 0800 hrs followed by the other ships at 10 minute intervals as they passed the harbour. Each ship would fire 10 broadsides. This would be some bombardment-consisting of a total of 160-15 inch, and 160-8 inch shells.


Richelieu

My 'action station' was in a compartment in the 'tween deck above the forward engine room in charge of a damage control party of 1 Stoker Petty Officer and 8 Stokers. During the action we had nothing to do except wait for the ship to be hit and then put out the fire or plug up the holes. In the compartment was a large 'damage control' cabinet containing axes, hammers, nails, ropes, coir mats, asbestos blankets, wooden chocks etc. Fire hoses were connected up and made ready, and a number of Salvus breathing sets were available. All of us were dressed in boiler suits and were wearing life jackets (uninflated), anti-flash hoods and gloves. For communication we had the normal ship's telephone on one of the bulkheads, and of course there was the ship's Tannoy system.


HMS Cumberland

A Paymaster Lieutenant (the Captain's Secretary) on the bridge, had the job of keeping the ship's company informed of what was happening or what was about to happen, through the ship's Tannoy system. This was a godsend especially for those below decks and those in enclosed machinery spaces. My damage control team had nothing to do but wait for something which we didn't want to happen-and so we spent most of the time just sitting on the deck with our backs up against a bulkhead.

A few minutes before 0830 hours the Tannoy came on with the usual Navy call-" D'ya hear there, D'ya hear there"-it was the Captain's Secretary- "We are steaming in line ahead about 6 miles off the harbour of Sabang which is coming up on our starboard beam-we shall be firing our first broadside in a short time-stand by". Several minutes went by, and then there was a tremendous thud followed almost instantaneously by the ship healing over several degrees to port - the Tannoy crackled to life again and said-"I have got my glasses on the target and I can see our shells crossing my line of sight-some are tumbling over and over in the air-our target is a jetty in the harbour area". There appeared to be quite along pause before the voice announced "The jetty is still there-I can see some smoke just beyond the target area-I think that must be our fall of shot-stand by for our next broadside". We fired a total of six broadsides, over a period of about six minutes, each one preceded by a warning over the Tannoy; after the sixth broadside the voice on the Tannoy said-"We have received a signal from the Flagship telling us to cease firing and to rejoin the fleet immediately- consequently there will be no further broadsides". We later learned that the other three ships had each fired their ten broadsides ahead of us-we were the last in the line- and then made off at full speed. The Flagship considered we were getting left too far behind and so told us to stop firing so that we could catch up.

We remained at action stations for most of that day-shadowed by Japanese aircraft. On one occasion the Tannoy announced-" Radar has picked up an unidentified aircraft 60 miles away on the port quarter- Hellcats have taken off from the Carrier to intercept". I remember at the time being quite surprised that Radar could pick up a plane 60 miles away. A short time later came the announcement - "The plane last reported 60 miles away on the port quarter has now closed to 25 miles on the starboard beam-Hellcats have not yet intercepted". We were all a bit worried that these aircraft might be Kami-Kasi's, but fortunately they turned out to be mainly reconnaissance planes, although on one occasion a stick of bombs was dropped around one of the destroyers screening us, without causing any damage. The Carrier reported shooting down one plane and damaging another. Later on that day we picked up a Japanese broadcast which reported the bombardment of Sabang and identified correctly the Queen Elizabeth, Richelieu, and Cumberland, but wrongly identified the London as a 'a King George V class of battleship'. This was understandable as the silhouette of the London (as modified in 1939/40), was very similar to a King George V class.

Two or three times during the day the bulkhead door to our compartment was opened and we were handed piles of meat sandwiches and large fanny's of tea or the famous navy Ki-Ki is a form of cocoa-a very viscous and sweet concoction, made from thick blocks of what looks like a dull chocolate. These occasions were for us the highlight of a day which for the most part was deadly boring, enlivened occasionally by brief moments of high tension. At around 1800 hours, after darkness came, we stood down from Action Stations and resumed normal duties.

The following day the ship's company was delighted to be told that the London was to proceed to Simonstown, South Africa, for a refit which could last for up to 3 months. That same evening we left the fleet which was heading back to Trinco., and turned south for the Cape.

On the way to Simonstown, which took about 7 or 8 days, I went on watch in the Engine Room with the senior Officer of the Watch, Lieutenant Gillespie. It was my job to learn the ropes so that eventually I would be able to to take a watch on my own. Before this however I had to get my watchkeeper's certificate. In addition to watchkeeping I was told to take an interest in, and make myself familiar with the ship's motor boats and also with the steam turbine driven electricity generators, as I would eventually become responsible for their maintenance. There were 4 electricity generators-two were in a separate closed compartment in the forward part of the ship and to get to them you had to go through a square hatch in the main tween deck and down a vertical ladder about 20 feet. There was also one in each engine room. Normally only 2 of the generators were needed to supply the ship's electricity, but at action stations all 4 were put on line.

In addition to the Commander(E), there were 7 other Engineer officers including myself. The Senior Engineer was Lieutenant Commander Brown -and then Lieutenants Gillespie, Porter, Miles and Arkinstall, and Sub Lieutenant Simon. All were regular RN. In fact I would imagine about 70% of the ship's company were regulars. Lieutenants Miles and Arkinstall were ex Chief ERA's, Miles being about 40 years of age and Arkinstall about 28 or 29. I got on well with them all except Lieut. Arkinstall who was a brash and loud-mouthed individual - and I later found out was not at all liked by the ERA's and Chief Stokers. I had a brush with him shortly after we had arrived at Simonstown. Apart from his watchkeeping duties, Arkinstall was responsible for all aspects of 'damage control', and at Action Stations he manned the damage control headquarters which was a small compartment amidships. On one occasion he was leading a damage control exercise with myself and about a dozen stokers. He asked me where the nearest fire hydrant was, and after telling him I didn't know, he proceeded to bawl me out in no uncertain terms in a way which made me out to be a complete idiot. At the time I said nothing, but after the exercise was finished I went up to him and said that I didn't object to the dressing down he had given me, but I strongly objected to him doing it in front of a gang of stokers, and I was in two minds whether to report him to the Commander(E) or not. His response was more abuse and an instruction to f*** myself! As a relative newcomer I was reluctant to report him-but on reflection decided I couldn't let the matter rest there. I reported the incident to Commander Shorto, who sent for the Senior Engineer, and I was asked to repeat what had occurred again. The Commander said he would look into the matter. I didn't hear anything more, but I gather something must have happened because from then on Arkinstall's attitude to me improved remarkedly, and I suspect from various obtuse remarks from some of the other Officers and Chief Stokers that the word had got around and that there was general approval about what I had done.

Part Five