Approach of the storm - Chapter 19

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Roger Marsh of the ‘Action Desk — Sheffield’ Team on behalf of Thomas Arthur Russell, and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Approach of the storm Chapter 19
By
Thomas Arthur Russell

April 4th, 1942 and news had come through of an enemy carrier foresighted by a Cataliner flying boat, four battleships with a screen of cruisers and destroyers were in fact in this force, and as soon as it became known, Force 'A' was sent to intercept it with little chance of surviving a battle against such odds.

Force ‘B’, of which the old Ramilles was one ship, was ordered to sail as soon as possible, which would be April 5th 1942. We had arrived on the 4th to top up oil fuel tanks. We sailed at 0700hrs on the 5th, the old battleship ready to back up and join Force ‘A’ that would have given us five battleships, Warspite, Ramilles, Royal Sovereign, Resolution and Revenge, the carriers H.M.S. Formidable, Indomitable and the old carrier H.M.S. Hermes.
The two heavy cruisers H.M.S. Dorsetshire and Cornwall had been detached and were well on the way to Colombo for refuelling a fact, which was to cost us dear. Little did I, and my pals on the lower deck know, at this very instant of sailing that Ceylon was about to be attacked by air strikes from the Japanese carrier force.

A target also was our base of Trincomalee, "Trinco" where we had swum over the side thinking the war so far away. Its clear blue waters had refreshed our hot bodies on more than one occasion; the possible threat of shark attack had not deterred us, now Trinco was to taste war.

The Japs attacked through rainsqualls and did plenty of damage to port installations, sank two warships and set merchant shipping ablaze. Those rain squalls proved beneficial, as we cruised northward, as we ran into them, heavy and warm and as good as any shower bath.
Those that could, stood on the upper deck and with a cake of soap and availed themselves of this heaven sent unrationed shower bath. Some even caught a drop for dhobeying; Jack was always an opportunist.
”What would your F****** party think now if she saw you with a little ‘chopper’ like that?” someone shouted amid the howls of mirth, as pot bellies glistened among skinny limbs. We were like school kids. We still didn't know that Ceylon was getting hammered and the old Hermes had been sunk along with one of the old V and W destroyers of World War I vintage, the Vampire. When we did get to know, H.M.S. Cornwall and H.M.S Dorsetshire, two heavy cruisers, had been subjected to fierce air attack and sunk, things were not sounding so good, yet morale didn't sink too much, men had died who some of my mates knew and I think the main feeling was one of revenge.

Lookouts were extra alert now. The sea had gone very calm. The rain had cleared and we were being baked by a blistering sun. I remember coming off watch and going for a stroll on the fo'castle, gazing over the side and seeing a large black blanket like object under the water, it was a fish or mammal, of some kind for it was moving quickly away from our starboard bow, possibly a manta ray. I also remember seeing a large turtle. These little diversions reminded one that the wonders of nature still existed and would go along after this war had ceased, whatever the outcome. It must have been a wonderful experience for the rich in society, to cruise these seas in peacetime in air-conditioned luxury, not having to wonder what lay over the horizon or under the sea.

What we did know now as the signals came in, was a possibility of a major fleet action and we knew it world be no picnic. I didn't relish the prospect of being a prisoner of war of the Japs, we had already heard of the atrocities they had perpetrated on prisoners and civilians alike, so if we did go into action against them I hoped that rather than having to be made prisoner in the event of our sinking, that I would already be dead. It may seem defeatist to think that way, but on the other hand it is an added incentive to fight to the end if your foe is capable of such acts.

Looking at the ponderous but majestic looking battleships ploughing through the blue seas, their foam whitened wakes and seeing the great fo’castle dipping with an occasional flurry of foam as the bows broke into the waves which had now arisen on a freshening breeze, it was hard to imagine anything could stand against us. The carrier’s planes flying off occasionally as she turned away into the wind with her close destroyer escort, added an extra sense power to the fleet. Signal Lamps would flicker between the ships, sometimes pennants would be run up, each ship co-ordinating and communicating with each other. What these signals and flags were saying, we poor old stokers didn’t know, all we knew was what our Captain announced over the tannoy system.

The days passed, and though at that time, we on the lower deck did not know how near we had been to a major fleet battle. The Warspite with the force ‘A’ fleet had actually picked up a Jap scout plane up on her radar. Warspite was away to our northeast and we were hastening to join force A. We expected sighting Dorsetshire and Cornwall in the next 24 hours and were staggered to receive the signal confirming their loss.
The Japanese had now turned away on an easterly course and we were soon to return to East Africa, the old battleship to resume convoy duties against the suspected presence of Japanese commerce raiders disguised as merchantmen.

Ramilles refuelled and then was ordered to Durban a move we all relished for many of us had made acquaintances there. Shore leave was eagerly looked forward to. “Tiddley” suits were pressed, lanyards scrubbed, hats blancoed, shoes polished till they shone, and I suspect many a pocket contained a few “pussers johnnies” in anticipation of the more amorous pursuits.

I remember going ashore and hearing from the “natives”, both female and male, a rumour which most of us discounted. These people couldn’t possibly know our future zone of operations. But I was to find out how uncannily accurate they would turn out to be.
Between bursts of drinking and meeting “parties” we heard we were supposed to be going to take Madagascar off the Vichy French. Also a pointer could have been the presence of one or two large merchantmen and the comings and goings of a few Army top brass.
Soon the “Tiddley” suits were put away as shore leave ended and an air of expectancy pervaded the very atmosphere of the ship. “Roll on the Rodney, Nelson Renown this one funnelled bastard is getting me down,” summed up the disappointment of the more romantic of the crew, missed the moments with girl friends under the Durban stars.
Now a bustle of activity as we prepared to sail. New stores of all kinds came aboard. Ships’ tanks were topped with fuel and what fresh water we could take. Next duty watch notices went up on the mess decks causing a few laughs and a few grumbles at the details of various parts of ship posting. “F*** me Chiefy,” as the Chief Regulating Stoker Petty Officer pinned them up on the notice board from some disgruntled stoker, “Not b******* f****** boiler room. I’ve lost a bloody stone already,” referring to the worst job of all, watch keeping in 'B' boiler room sandwiched between 'A' and 'C', who were very hot in their own right and helped to produce nigh un-endurable temperatures in 'B' boiler room.
I noticed that the marines seemed to be paying unusual attention to their weaponry, stripping guns down and cleaning them. Rags and pull throughs were much in evidence along with the small bottles of gun oil. Something big was afoot. Could the civvies ashore be right? We would know soon enough.

We were not left long in doubt. We sailed in company with several transports, cruisers, destroyers and an oil tanker and were joined by a carrier, probably the Indomitable a large fleet carrier. This task force looked imposing as it ploughed its way through a choppy blue white-flecked sea.

Sealed orders were now opened and it became clear Madagascar was our objective as we sailed northwards. We were going to break the monotony of damage control drill and practice action stations. Soon it would be the real thing. We must have felt secure, for I remember seeing a film on the quarterdeck. I seem to remember it being the one with the Andrews sisters in it. Apple Blossom Time was one of the songs. It didn’t really seem wartime, except for the restricted lighting, but as we drew nearer to the island, things became more disciplined. We were in an atmosphere of expectancy. That old nagging thought arose, as I looked at the transports. How many of the young men sailing towards this wartime destiny would die?

Some of the destroyers were getting short on fuel and one came alongside keeping about thirty-five yards away. Both ships had reduced speed and a line had been fired across from the battleship by the special gun used for such a purpose, a heavier line was tied to this one and then the armoured refuelling hose was passed over and coupled up to the deck fitting of battleship and destroyer. The seas running between both ships had the turbulence of a river in flood, with the ships heaving but keeping station like a mother hen and its chick in a superb demonstration of seamanship.

The destroyer said, “Goodbye,” with a wave of the hand from her captain on her bridge and a quick “woop woop” from her siren. A small puff of black smoke as she increased oil to her boilers, giving her the extra power as she sheered off in a burst of speed, throwing the bow wave high as she knifed her way through the water to regain her station out on the wings of the column.

So on we sailed, the harsh clatter of the Oerlikon cannons as close range weapons were tested, then the steady hammer beat sounding hard and solid of the eight barrelled pom poms as they pumped a hail of shells into the sky exploding in a flock of small black smoke bursts and the sound of small popping noises in the air.

Turrets were tested, training up and down and starboard and to port, the great guns looked eager for the battle we half hoped would come. All the training was pitched to that end and we were ready. “S*** or bust,” as we used to say.

We arrived and landed the troops at Courier Bay, covering them with ships and naval aircraft. The troops were under command of Major General Sturges, the ship’s under Rear Admiral Slyfret. Resistance at first seemed light as the troops pressed inland to cross the Andrakaka. Isthmus?? Cutting the naval base of Diego Suarez off.

Further south they had run into stiff resistance in their efforts to take Antisirana, now the careful preparations of our marines were to pay off.

The weapons, so lovingly cleaned, were to be put to good use. Fifty marines under Captain Price were to go aboard H.M.S. Anthony, a destroyer, which took the marines from a small landing craft. I remember seeing of them a “Yorky” like myself, who I saw years later in the pit, and I believe Rogerson, an ex-miner grinning hugely as he lowered an anti-tank rifle down into the boat, we gave them a little cheer as they went to board the destroyer.

“We won’t be long lads,” someone yelled, “save any mail for us that might come aboard.” “What a f****** time to think about mail when you might get your head blown off.” Nothing like looking on the bright side. A quiet voice nearby, said, “They’ll be alright — maybe they’ll even manage a bag off with the blackie.” Then they had gone and the destroyer had gone too. Now we waited at sea off or in Diego Suarez for their return, hoping the mission they had embarked on would be a success.

The night of the 6th, the destroyer Anthony made a bold dash and crashed the boom going alongside the jetty and allowing the marines to jump over the side, and make a surprise assault against the Vichy French rear. From a marine who was later in conversation with me, I understood they had caught members of the French Command at the table and had held them at gun point while they had sampled some of the food.

If it was true, it sounded more like a banquet and the circumstances pointed to a large element of surprise by our men. They returned to Ramillies, flushed with success and with booty collected from the Vichy French offices, some beautiful French Officers’ hats, sashes, ceremonial swords and other things intended as souvenirs, found their way aboard.

We still had the batteries on the Oranges promontory to silence. This was achieved and resistance on the northern part of Madagascar ceased. We had loaded and fired one 15 (ek9) broadside deliberately aimed to cause no casualties. Once a 15 (ek9) battery was loaded, it was the only way to dispose conveniently of the 15(ek9) shells.

I heard we had flattened some latrines in the dock area. I wondered if that was so, was some poor bugger using them at the time? I hoped not. I remember seeing a plane land on the carrier, and he must have fluffed his landing, for I saw some debris flay in the air as if he had hit a plane on the upper deck.

Pr-BR

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