Approach of the storm - Chapter 6

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 6
By
Thomas Arthur Russell

Next day as I paced the fo'castle in between a spell of duty, I saw away on the horizon, faint and grey in the distance and well apart, two ships. I wondered what they were and of what nationality, as they drew nearer they took on the unmistakable shapes of warships and they were closing fast, their flags stood out stiffly in the breeze and it showed them to be our own destroyers.

Aldis lamps flickered between Carlisle’s bridge and theirs, then they took station on either side looking sleek and deadly as their sharp bows rose then fell, cleaning the blue waters apart in a plume of white foam. They looked to be armed with four 4.7’s and two banks of torpedo tubes. A searchlight was mounted on a platform aft of the two funnels and a set of multiple pom poms. I envied the small figures I could see passing backwards and forwards along their decks. ALL my class had longed to become destroyer men, we thought they and submarines were the elite of the navy.

The battleship’s cruisers and carriers were thought of as spit polish bullshit. Of course the bigger the ship the higher discipline is needed to keep it at maximum efficiency. The big ships' competition was keen for smartness and efficiency, both in harbour and on exercises.

This isn't to say the destroyers were in any way lax or less efficient. Competition was keen in destroyer flotillas from ship to ship, constant cleaning both down below and up top were the order of the day in harbour, in which the paint chipper and scraper and gallons of paint were used.

Bales of waste, and as it became scarcer, rags and tins of blue bell metal polish gave the ships their smart appearance. The two destroyers which had closed Carlisle, now fell in ahead and off in the port and starboard quarters. The weather was typical 'Mediterranean', blue cloudless sky and blue sea came together in a faint haze on the horizon, and by now, as we left Gib' behind, everyone was showing a bit of sun tan as we became acclimatised to the constant barrage of sunshine. We had heard rumours of Italian participation alongside the Germans being announced any day now, and realised we were not here just for a holiday.

Occasionally, action stations were practised just in case, and although a nuisance, we realised their implicat1ons. The tensions were heightened by the fact that occasionally, the two destroyers would race ahead to investigate the source of any smoke just on the horizon, and would return an hour or two later with the shutters of their Aldis lamps flickering and being answered from the light cruiser's signal platform

We carried signal flags for semaphore, besides the shuttered lamp, but the lamp seemed more convenient, also signal pennants could run up to the yard-arms for general signals. The four days from Gib. to Malta soon passed. A metallic voice over the tannoy announced we would arrive early one morning and now, all we youngsters who had never been away from home before, thought of home as a place as far away as the moon. Remember those were the days when air travel and holiday beaches were only for the few who had hefty bank balances. So lads from mine or factory with no previous experience of foreign travel were bound to feel a bit homesick for a while.

I remember being awakened by a terrific din as the anchor cable rattled down and the ship shuddered. Voices were shouting orders and feet clattered up and down ladders, deadlights and scuttles were opened up, the warm sun streamed its rays through the portholes and looking through one, I caught my first view of a floating dock.

The roadways and streets seemed to come right down to the water, and the white stone of the buildings seemed to have an Anglo-Italian flavour, the Maltese. Apparently these people were allowed aboard R.N. ships to take away any clean food not used up by the crews. They carried round tins, scrupulously clean and fitted with a strong wire handle. Some brought the well known, "grass hammock" for sale. These were hammocks, which you could roll up very small, like a net and were convenient to sling quickly if you didn't want to dig in the hammock netting for your service hammock. They were particularly handy on make and mend days when you had dinner and then could get your head down, or do your washing, sew badges on uniform or running repairs on overalls.

The day we arrived, I was lucky enough to be allowed ashore and I polished my shoes, got my white hat freshly blanched and my patent blue collar out, my No 1 suit, my tiddly suit as the sailor referred to his best walking out suit. Some had No 6's, white drill suits complete with collar sewn to the tunic and white shoes, which looked incredibly cool and smart. We fell in two rows on the quarterdeck and were inspected by the duty officer of the day and the coxswain. Passing the inspection, we were duly warned of the perils of drinking the local wine and to watch for the antics of the girls in the bars down the "Gut", which could soon part a man from his fortnightly pay. The "Gut", was one of the streets falling steeply down to Grand harbour where we were anchored, lined on each side by bars and restaurants where Jack could get pissed with a pretty girl on each knee as long as he could provide the money to buy them the coloured water they passed off as liquors, and on which they got commission. Many an unwary rating had paid no heed in the hope he’d get a pretty young thing drunk, so she'd provide an easy jump. The wise man knew it never happened and told them to "frig off.”

The beer, "Farson’s Blue Label" was good and cheap and the meals too. Anyway as our team came, we moved down the gangway and into a dysol, one of the local bumboats, rowed by the Maltese. They rowed standing up in a peculiar effortless way. Their boats were scrupulously clean and sometimes adorned with a religious motif.

I noticed some used to wear religious trinkets round their necks. They were very devout. I've seen them cross themselves before they commenced rowing. My memories of that first trip ashore in Malta, with its aromatic flavours and its smell of the gut, cooking onions and steak, egg and chips. Not a bad smell.

In the days ahead, there wouldn’t be much steak or anything else; the German blockade had yet to come. For one who had seen only peacetime Blackpool and some east coast resorts, it was marvellous. We really enjoyed those few hours, buying a few post cards and having a bottle or two of beer. I remember buying a tablecloth with lace motif on it. I still have it. We'd made our way back down to the harbour steps, still feeling a bit tipsy and merry. We shouted for a boat, "Okay okay Jack, I’m coming," followed by the soft slurp of oars and a boat rowed by a proud figure up to the steps. "You okay Jack? Be steady in the boat or we fall in, you too much beer, Malta beer good eh? But no girls eh?" A laugh and a flash of white teeth from a dark face, formed under an old sun dried flat cap.

These Maltese were a cheerful crowd and they loved the navy, we were literally their crowd and better. They were poor but spotlessly clean, and to make it with a Maltese girl was practically impossible. Next day we sailed for Alexandria and after we had cleared harbour, I went out into the sunshine and gazed back at Malta, now dropping astern. It looked white and solid against the blue of the sea, more like a kind of huge white castle in the distance.

We had a company again in the shape of the two destroyers fell in on either beam. The sea was gentle with a slow swell and the bows of the destroyers, knifed through the blue waters with a steady heaving, throwing a plume of feathery spray into the air to gleam wetly on the metal of the ship’s side.

War seemed so far away then, so unreal, yet this was no peacetime cruise we were on, as events some three-day later were to prove. That was when the port of Alexandria hove into sight; it was morning and my first view of that land of mystery, Egypt, no tourists then. A voice called and a man pointed seawards following his directions. I got my first view of a periscope, a slender pole slid through the sea sending a faint flurry of foam behind it, then two more appeared and seemed to be going in different directions. War was very near. This was a flotilla of submarines proceeding to take up war patrol positions for when Italy did finally decide they would be ready.

Looking at the periscopes gave one an idea of how hard it would be to spot them in a choppy sea or the early dawn or dusk light, especially in the hands of a good captain who was determined to get his boat into a good position for loosing his tin fish. The buildings of Alexandria were now taking shape and all men out of the rig of the day were piped off the upper deck.

Special sea duty men were piped to fall in for entering harbour and as we went below to the mess deck, we wondered what would be our final destination now.

Soon the ship shuddered in, manoeuvring to her coming to anchor. You only seemed to notice it at such times, that peculiar judder which a sailor recognises and associated with a run ashore with all its resultant pleasure. Going bark topside, I got my first sight and smell of "Alex", that strange middle east smell slightly horsey and a kind of aromatic odour, wafting on a gentle warm breeze, the water of the harbour was a greenish colour as distinct from the blue of the outer sea. The buildings surrounding the harbour looked to be mostly warehouses with flat roofs, which carried the word MANTACHEF in huge letters, and I could see what appeared to be a large coal stock area nearby.

Across to one side in the distance was a large imposing building, I learnt later was RASEL. All the buildings had that funny brown look that long exposure to the sun must bring. Even the stonework of the more solid thoroughfares carried that certain look that I found when I finally got shore leave. Just now, my attention was drawn by the pipe we had been waiting for; all ratings on passage fall in on the quarterdeck in 20 minutes. Soon we were collecting our gear together in a sweating, bustling group intent on beating that deadline. The blue serge suit wasn't exactly cool as we humped our gear on to the quarterdeck; we finally made it and fell in.

We were ordered down the gangway and into a fair sized boat along with all our gear, then the two lines were cast off and away we went amid a faint cheer from men we had befriended on the ship. We were not long passing the other ships anchored there, which included cruisers, destroyers, a carrier and battleships, we came alongside a high sided light grey vessel, a two funnelled ship. It turned out to be a submarine depot shop, HMS Medway her gangway rose up steeply and made us sweat some more taking our gear aboard. We were shown to a spare mess where we dumped our kit and were then told to detail two men to pick a meal up and act as cooks of mess, cleaning up after.

We found our quarters comfortable and clean, but it was only for a few hours, for next day we were split up among the ships of the fleet. Eric Marsden my "townie" went to the destroyer defender and I went to the battleship, HMS Ramillies along with one or two more of the old class. As we went around her stern in the Ramillies piquet boat she looked enormous, her width of beam, accentuated by her torpedo blisters, and the great 15 turrets towering over her quarter deck really awed us. She had a singe large funnel with a searchlight platform at either side and below that twin set of multiple pom-poms of eight barrels each. Then below these, again lay the boat deck and at each corner of this was an open turret of twin 4 dual purpose making eight in all. And ranged along her sides in casemates were six guns, each side her secondary armament, at each side of the conning position just aft of Bl5 turret were quadruple machine guns. ALL this I managed to take in as we came alongside her quarterdeck gangway. Everything about her looked clean the square wooden grating we had to step onto and the gangway steps themselves looked well scrubbed.

The hand ropes were white, and any brass work we could see sparkled in the sun. I felt uneasy. She looked more like a floating barracks and I wondered if all I'd heard about the bullshit of the big ships was to be confirmed. We weren't kept long in waiting, as we stood on the wide quarterdeck. The officer of the day, telescope under armpit, and the master at arms had already given us the benefit of their examination. Grudgingly, we must have passed. Now we had to stand, while a rating resplendent in white belt and gaiters over his uniform, and wearing a long chain like a sort of watch chain hanging in two loops over his chest and ending up with a bosun's whistle at the end, eyed us disdainfully as he stood against his little desk on which lay a large book like a ledger.

Over his head was a shining ship’s bell with a fancy knotted rope attached to its tongue; beyond him a marine corporal looking the epitome of spit and polish chatted to a midshipman, white tabbed collar and chubby cheeked. He looked as if he'd be more at home playing cowboys and Indians with the other kids. "Snotty nosed little b******," I thought as I heard his cultured tones. "Some rich bastard’s throw back." Afterwards, as I became more involved in life on the great ship, and learnt more about the organisation and running of the different departments, I grew to admire these young "midis". They were the future officers and as such had plenty of work to do and were subject, I suspect, to a much harder discipline than the lower deck.

We were suddenly called to attention and were led away, kitbag on shoulder or underarm through a steel door, into the recess of the ship. I tried to remember my way as we passed steel hatchways, raised and held by large block and tackle, steel stairways led downwards to various compartments. To my left-hand side I saw the batteries great breechblocks looking solid and heavy as they reflected the dim electric lights with a steely shine. Each battery had a large curtain, which ran around a rail looking something like a large blackout curtain, and each one had what appeared to be a water tub arranged in it. Soon we who had joined as stokers were separated.

Pr-BR

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