My Part in the Downfall of a Dictator - Part 2

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

MY PART IN THE DOWNFALL OF A DICTATOR - Part 2
by
Ex Leading Seaman C Robinson

On our return to Alex, Rommel had started his push eventually being halted at El Alamein. The decision was made to evacuate and transfer everything to Haifa in what was then Palestine. While leaving, a tug alongside us hit a mine and we were showered with bits and pieces. Later the Depot ship was torpedoed and sunk by an Italian submarine and some sailors and wrens were killed in the water when depth charges were dropped. While at Haifa we did not do a lot of sea time. Then it happened, with Rommel still at Alamein, Tobruk had fallen and German eyes were on Alex and Cairo.

In the summer of 1942, another convoy of 4 fast merchant ships set of for Malta with 2 light cruisers and about 12 destroyers as escorts. During this operation we met the Italian fleet in the Gulf of Sirte. It consisted of 1 battleship, 2 heavy cruisers and 2 flotillas of destroyers. This had happened once before but then they ran away. The second time, now known as the Second Battle of Sirte, they stayed to fight, all the time trying to get between the convoy and Malta, but although we were heavily outgunned, we out manoeuvred them by using smoke screens and torpedoes. We were the leading ship while making smoke, so all the time, our bows were visible to the enemy and although there were no hits, salvos of 15 and Sins shells fell all around us. Those that fell ahead of us created huge holes in the sea which we seemed to fall in to.

During the action, which lasted all day, the bombers were always there and we did have casualties. The weather got worse and worse and at the end of the day, when it began to get dark and the winds increased to gale force, the Italians called off the action, they were not trained to fight in bad weather or at night. We did damage one of the cruisers and they hit two of the destroyers. Of the 4 merchant ships, one was sunk at sea and one was badly damaged and had to be beached. The other two got in to Valetta but were sunk at their mooring, all by the bombers. Our damage consisted of a few holes in the superstructure, but the force of the weather and 15ins shells had forced the messdeck stanchions in through the deckhead. On return to Alex we were undergoing repairs, a boiler clean and ammunitioning during which we had an emergency call and had to get to sea as quickly as possible. Four destroyers, Kipling, Lively, Jackal and Jervis had gone to intercept a convoy off the Libyan coast where they were attacked by 31 bombers, high level and Stukas. Three were sunk, only Jervis survived and we had to go and escort her and 63 survivors back to Alex, which we did with no further casualties.

Churchill decided that some good news was required for a change so he ordered an attempt to recapture Tobruk, using the destroyers Sikh and Zulu to carry and land 500 Marine Commandos, escorted by the old cruiser H.M.S. Coventry and a few other destroyers, MTB's and ML's. A joint operation with the army's Long Range Desert Group, the RAF and us. We did the initial training in the whaler which was stupid, and we trained with .45 revolvers, they were later changed because they were dum dum, to 1st World War Italian revolvers which were hopeless. We were given plywood boats, one powered to act as a tug, towing 2 dumb craft, all 3 loaded to the brim with marines plus 2 sailors, bow and stern men. The boats were crap and the whole plan in our opinion was impassable, although at the time we didn't know where we were going, we found out later, an Arab on the oiler told us. It was a disaster, the army did a good job and got inside Tobruk but not many got back to Alex. We were guided in to the wrong place, on to rocks instead of a sandy beach.

I was in one of the boats that was ordered back to the ship. On arrival I went to my action station, 'Y' gun, which was unusable because of all the equipment stacked around it. I then followed some marines into the port passageway at the same time as a blast from exploding cordite came in at the other end, blowing the marines to the deck with me underneath them. They saved my life; they were all very badly burned while just my hands and neck were burnt. The skin on my hands was hanging of like a glove but I was still alive. Meanwhile a shell had hit us in the Gearing Room, causing the lubrication system to fail and the engines to seize up. We were sitting ducks. Zulu tried to tow us out of it but a shell hit the bollard to which the tow line was attached and that was the end.

Zulu was ordered to leave and we fought on until we were like a pepper pot from the continual pounding from the shore batteries and aircraft. Eventually the order was given to abandon ship and after 3 hours in the water, we were picked up, some by the Italians, some by the Germans. Those picked up by the Germans were well treated but we, who were picked up by the Italians, didn't even get a drink of water. Naturally we all became POW's. Those uninjured went to Benghazi and from there to Camp 70 near Ancona, Italy. I was kept in hospital at Tobruk and my hands treated with Gentian Violet.

During my time in hospital the 8th army began their advance from El Alamein so we were moved back, staying in various camps like Benghazi, Derna and Ohms. This continued until we arrived in Tripoli. From there we were shipped over to Naples and deposited in Camp 66, A Transit Camp at Capua, a few miles north of Naples. I had been in the desert camps from September to December.

Life as a POW wasn't a bed of roses, the main problem being food, the shortage of. Bread bun and a small piece of cheese for breakfast, thin vegetable stew for dinner and whatever we could scrounge for tea and supper. We did get Red Cross food parcels, 1 between 2; they were good but didn't last very long. The second problem was those insect pests, crabs and lice, everyone had them. On a sunny afternoon we would sit in a row clearing the lice from the seams of our shirts. We didn't work because there was none to do. My day consisted of a brisk walk round the camp before breakfast, muster and head count by an Italian Sergeant Major who had lived in England for most of his life. Veg. stew at noon, delousing, another walk, a cup of ersatz coffee, made from acorns, then to bed and so on. I thought my war was over and life was going to be very boring until either we or Hitler won the war. Then the unheard of happened. The Italians had requested an exchange of some 700 plus sailors and I was one of the lucky ones. After weeks of rumours, we were mustered, about 20 of us, and marched all the way to Naples where we were put on to a cattle train and then to Bari on the other side of the country where once again, we met up with our other shipmates who were going home too.

We embarked on the hospital ship Gradisca and what we thought was a life of luxury began for us. Beds with clean white sheets and 2 white rolls per day and we didn't have to queue for them, they were brought to us. We weren't allowed out of bed. Then to Turkey where the exchange took place. We embarked on the S.S. Talma where we were supplied with food, warm clothing and other goodies, then set sail for Port Said where we were met by notaries and wrens with cups of tea and cakes. Then on to Alexandria and the camp, a Sidi Bishr where the process of rehabilitation commenced. First delousing and decrabbing which was heaven. We had the freedom of the camp and could go ashore at any time. Our target was always food and eventually, we began to look like spring onions. Our shore leave was limited and a sadist PTI was put in charge of us to get us fit before returning to the UK His favourite was to get us wheeling barrow loads of sand from here to there, then back from there to here. He did succeed and after 8 weeks of this, we travelled by train to Port Tewfic then on to the S.S. Isle de France starting a 26,000 mile journey home with no escort. We called at Durban, the Gold Coast and Rio de Janeiro before finally arriving at Granton on the Clyde. From there by train into Chatham dockyard to be met by those in charge, Jaunty's I think they were called. After a bit of ordering about they were politely told what to do and eventually I found myself in Duncan Block again, the start of another period of bringing a German Dictator to justice.

Prior to our Tobruk episode which was Sept 14th 1942, on Sept 9th on H.M.S. Cleopatra with a bit of help from a friendly signalman while doing Morse code, I passed for Leading Seaman. I didn't know whether or not I had passed until I got back to Chatham, but God bless them, their records were up to date and the back pay was there. I met up again with our old 30 Class instructor of 1939, now a Chief PO in the Barrack Guard, looking for wrong doers on the road between Duncan Block and the Main Gate. He did remember me because believe it or not, I was one of his few star pupils.
Again I got a job in the Barrack Guard, this time in charge of The Breakout Party which consisted of opening the lockers of ratings who didn't return from shore leave, collecting their gear and storing it. A cushy number but it passed the time on. I did this for 6 months, during which time I married Marjorie, as I promised, while a POW. This was during a weekend leave. Meanwhile I was drafted to a Fleet Minesweeper built at Blyth in Northumberland. A ship with a fancy name, H.M.S. Fancy. Again a trip by train up to Blyth and after many different kinds of trials we went to Tobermory to, amongst other things, learn how to sweep.

When proficient we travelled around a little and spent some time based at Harwich. Eventually we sailed into Portsmouth to prepare for D Day. We watched the build up and on 5th June, we sighed with relief, the operation was cancelled, but it was on again the next day. On 6th June we "led the way" to the French coast making it possible for the invasion. For us it was comparatively easy, but very tiring, always sweeping, always on the alert looking for aircraft, submarines and remote controlled motor boats loaded with explosives. At night we formed part of the perimeter guard. We did get back to Portsmouth occasionally but never stayed far long until Fred’s department broke down. Eventually, when things were going well, we were transferred to the Med. On our way to Gibraltar we escorted a floating dock but this later had to be sunk in the Bay of Biscay because of storm damage plus a few bumps.

We arrived at Malta and joined the 19th MSF doing sweeps around the island. Then to Italy, based at Ancona, sweeping channels to Trieste and Venice. During this time the war with Germany ended, my part I think, being well played towards the downfall of a Dictator.
On Fancy, I did various jobs, starting off as a postman, then Cox' n of the motorboat, Cox'n of the sea boats crew, Chief Quartermaster and finally i/c sweeping party. I left the ship in December 1945, spent 2 weeks in St Angelo then home to the UK. I was a short service rating 7 years on and 5 years reserve and on February 15th 1946 I completed my time. On 16th I travelled back to Doncaster to my wife and family who I had not seen since December 31st 1944.

My reward for all this was 6 medals, 4 Campaign medals plus Rosette on Atlantic Star, a minesweeping and war medal and a mention in Despatches for my services to minesweeping. Also I have the Malta medal, a Normandy medal, a Veteran’s medal supplied by Harry and also his wooden medal for being a humorist, which I value very much indeed.

I enjoyed my time on Fancy more than on the destroyers, probably because there wasn't time on them for enjoyment. The main thing being that I survived and the Dictator didn't.

Note:- The submarines that sunk the Ark Royal and the depot ship were both sunk later, one by one of our trawlers, the other by Hunt Class destroyers off Haifa. Revenge was ours.

Apologies for any errors like timing, sequences and spelling but after 58 years, my memory sometimes plays tricks on me, but I guarantee that everything I have written did happen.

Marjorie and I have been together 60 years this year, we are not quite as agile as we used to be but we have 3 sons and daughters in law who make a good job of looking after us.

Yours Aye

Ex Ldg Sea C Robinsan February 2003

PS While in the Barrack Guard the second time, I learned how to become a Fire-fighter, entering smoke filled buildings and carrying a 12 stone dummy down a 20 foot ladder. In view of the current situation, I think I missed my vocation.
Two books were written about our action at Tobruk. One of them quoting it as "organised chaos" and should never have happened.

They were:
Tobruk Commando by Gordon Landsborough
and
Massacre at Tobruk by Peter C Smith
the second title was the most appropriate.

Pr-BR

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