Battle Ensign

by Thomas E. Lightburn

  ‘Now, I’m sure you’re all very busy,’ said the captain, ‘so smoke if you must, and let’s get on.’

  None of the three officers accepted his offer. The side door opened and Jenkins came in, holding a silver tray and four small cups of coffee.

  ‘No biscuits, sir,’ said Jenkins, giving the captain a supercilious glance, while placing a cup and saucer on the captain’s leather-bound blotting pad, ‘you ate the last one yesterday.’

  ‘Never mind,’ replied the captain, ‘just make sure we’re not disturbed for the next half hour.’

  ‘As you wish, sir,’ the PO answered tardily, then left the cabin.

  As soon as the galley door was shut, Neame opened a desk drawer and drew out a buff-coloured envelope marked “TOP SECRET”. He took out a sheet of white paper and placed it before him. Bayonetting the three officers with a steely glare, he said, ‘I received this signal from the C-in-C two hours ago. The Gazala Line, that ring of defences surrounding Tobruk, has in part, been breached by Rommel.’ The captain took good sip of coffee, then continued. ‘Auchinleck is desperately short of medical stores and ammunition and the Desert Air Force is badly depleted. He has asked for help, and that, gentlemen, is where Carlisle and your ships come in.’

  ‘You mean we’re going to supply them with shells and anything else they need, sir?’ Penrose asked, after taking a sip of his drink.

  ‘Yes, Henry, and that will include Carlisle,’ Neame replied, draining his cup. ‘Our high-angled guns with give covering fire against an air attack, and also bombard the enemy positions.’

  ‘Just so I understand, sir,’ Lieutenant Commander Gregory-Smith, said, furrowing his brow, ‘we are to load up with ammunition, most of which will be boxes of shells and small arms ammunition, and sail into a port that is under siege. Am I right, sir?’

  ‘More or less,’ Neame replied, casually pushing his cup and saucer to one side.

  ‘But what about the inshore squadron at Alexandria, sir? asked Lieutenant Commander Petch, ‘Alex is closer to Tobruk than Malta, surely they’ll be involved.’

  ‘And what about Admiral Vian’s battle group, sir,’ Penrose added, ‘will they help?’

  ‘In answer to your question, Henry,’ Neame said, looking at the anxious expression on the face of Dulverton’s commanding officer, ‘even though Alex is, as you say, closer to Malta, Diamond and Ladybird were badly damaged during a previous attempt to supply Tobruk and are out of action, and Gnat is in dry dock undergoing a refit.’ He paused, sat back, folded his arms, and continued to answer your question, Hugh,’ he said, staring keenly at Penrose, ‘earlier, Cleopatra suffered too much damage and is undergoing repairs. Vian will sail in Warspite, and along with Dido and a group of destroyers, he will patrol a few hundred miles off the coast of Taranto to prevent Ichiano from coming to attack us.’

  ‘And what if Ichiano does decide to come out and make a fight of it, sir?’ asked Petch. ‘After all, his ships were virtually undamaged during their previous meeting.’

  ‘He won’t,’ Neame replied flatly. ‘Ultra, intercepted a signal from Mussolini instructing Ichiano not to risk his capital ships[5]. You see, the Italian ships don’t have radar, and Ichiano can’t be sure how strong our fleet is. That’s why he ordered his fleet to return to Taranto when they met recently.’ The captain stopped speaking and sat forward. Clenching both hands, he went on. ‘Each of you will take on fuel and replenish stores this afternoon. Tomorrow at 0800, boxes of artillery shells, ammunition for Vickers machine guns, mortar bombs, plus medical stores will be delivered to your ship.’

  ‘When do we leave, sir?’ Penrose asked cautiously.

  ‘At 2200 on Friday 17th, under cover of darkness. ETA Tobruk, early on Sunday.’ He paused momentarily, allowing his words to sink in, then went on. ‘Now, as you will see on your charts, Tobruk is on a peninsula, showing two harbours. You will enter the western harbour, which is the deepest. Carlisle will enter the harbour first, unload the ammunition and take on wounded, then leave and wait outside the harbour. Helix, Eridge and Dulverton to follow. Unload ammunition and take on injured. Leave and rendezvous with Carlisle and proceed to Alexandria. Any questions?’

  ‘How badly has the Gazala line been breached, sir?’ asked Gregory-Smith.

  Neame pursed his lips then replied, ‘the C-in-C’s signal doesn’t say, but the port and Allied defensive positions are being constantly shelled by 21st Panzer Division west of Tobruk.

  ‘Just to recap, sir,’ said Penrose, leaning forward, ‘we’re being ordered to sail,loaded with high explosives, into a port that is under constant bombardment, am I right, sir?’

  ‘That’s about the gist of it, Hugh,’ Neame answered dryly, ‘but don’t sound so dramatic. The ships will be protected from air attack by my guns and also by the heavy ack-ack the defenders will put up when you arrive.’

  ‘But no air cover?’ Gregory-Smith commented sombrely.

  ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to wait and see,’ Neame said, standing up. ‘Now, gentlemen, as the sun is over the yardarm, may I suggest large gin and tonics all around?’

  Half an hour later, sitting in the stern sheets of Helix’s motor launch, Penrose suddenly realised, if the mission was successful, his chances of promotion would be greatly enhanced. With this on his mind, he arrived back onboard Helix and was met on the quarterdeck by Manley.

  ‘Better come with me, Number One,’ Penrose said, grinning, while returning Manley’s salute, ‘I have some interesting news for you.’

  ‘Not another convoy, I hope, sir?’ Manley asked as they left the quarterdeck.

  Penrose didn’t reply. A few minutes later they entered his cabin and were met by Steward Morris. ‘Good afternoon, ser,’ he said cheerily, ‘can I get youse anything?’

  ‘No,’ grunted Penrose, ‘just leave and make sure we’re not disturbed.’

  ‘Very good, ser,’ Morris replied, and left the cabin, surprised at Penrose’s unusual curt manner.

  ‘Better take a seat, Number One,’ Penrose said, walking behind his desk and wearily sitting down. ‘Perhaps I should have told Morris to bring you a Horse’s Neck, you may need one after what I’ve got to tell you.’

  For twenty minutes, Manley sat in silence and listened as Penrose told him about the forthcoming mission to Tobruk. Afterwards, Manley sat back in his chair, and slowly shaking his head, said, ‘I don’t want to sound defeatist, sir, but it seems very dodgy. I mean, each ship will be carrying tons of high explosive. One bomb and whoosh!’ He added, raising both hands, ‘And we’ll all be goners, lock, stock and barrel.’

  ‘Quite so, Number One,’ Penrose replied stoically. ‘But keep everything I’ve said to yourself, officers only to be informed. I’ll address the ship’s company after we leave Malta. Loading ammunition will be enough to spark off rumours. Oh, and have a word with the doc as I’m sure he’ll need to order extra medical stores.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I understand, sir,’ Manley answered, feeling his pulse rate increase.

  However, Manley knew Morris would be standing outside the cabin door, listening to everything that was said. Within the next hour, details of the ship’s next mission spread around the ship like wildfire.

  ‘Are you quite sure you heard right, Scouse?’ Cook Murphy asked Moran. It was “tot time”, and they were in the Supply and Secretariat mess. ‘If we don’t have any air cover we’ll be sitting ducks.’

  ‘And I bet the Jerries will be waiting for us,’ said Leading Steward, Powers, taking a good gulp of his rum. ‘They’re not stupid. They know the army’s been holed up in Tobruk for over a year and must be short of ammo.’

  ‘Better make sure we’ve all made out our wills, then,’ Leading Writer Jack Jones, remarked before finishing his “tot”.

  A similar air of trepidation prevailed in the seamen’s mess. ‘Full of ammo and no air cover,’ muttered Dusty Miller, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth after downing his rum. ‘Sheer fuckin’ madness, that’s what I calls it, sheer fuckin�
� madness.’

  ‘And, according to what Scouse heard, we’ll be the first ship to enter the harbour,’ said Dolly Gray, sipping his tot.

  ‘That’s if we get that far,’ came Slinger Woods’ pessimistic reply.

  ‘Ah, stop worrying and think about Alex,’ Tug Wilson remarked, finishing off his tot. ‘I was there on board the Warspite in ’39, those belly dancers will give you a hard-on for weeks.’

  ‘Not to mention a knap hand, I bet,’ he added with a salacious grin. (A knap hand is slang for a dose of VD and pubic lice.)

  ‘Scouse also mentioned old Vian would be stopping the Ities from attacking us,’ Dusty Miller casually remarked, ‘so relax and enjoy your dinner.’

  ‘To me, that’s just like this fuckin’ chicken,’ replied Bob Rose, ‘too hard to swallow.’

  Shortly after 1330, Dusty and a few others left the mess. Walking along the passageway, Dusty met the tall, imposing figure of Chief GI Barnes. ‘Excuse me, Chief,’ said Dusty, ‘what do you and the other senior ratings think of us going to Tobruk, topped up with ammo?’

  ‘The buffer and the coxswain think it’s a bit dicey, to say the least,’ Barnes replied. Then as he walked away, he turned and with a wry smile, added, ‘But don’t tell them I told you.’

  Upon overhearing one of the stewards talking about going to Tobruk, the reaction of some officers was somewhat more sanguine. ‘I’m sure the admiral knows what he’s doing, David,’ Lieutenant Powers remarked to Sub Lieutenant Baker as they sipped their tea.

  ‘You’re probably right, Ted,’ Baker replied, ‘as I’m sure the Italians won’t fancy facing Vian’s battle group again.’

  At 1400 the fuel lighter came alongside the ship. Manley and Engineer Officer Logan stood on the port waist and watched the chief stoker and his team attach pipelines from the lighter onto couplings on Helix’s deck.

  ‘This Tobruk business is obviously very important, even though we might lose ships and men, but do you think it’s wise, Number One?’ Logan asked Manley as they listened to the hissing sound of fuel from the lighter being transferred via pipe lines into Helix’s tanks.

  ‘Apparently Admiral Vian thinks the risk is worth it,’ Manley replied, ‘because, as you know, if Tobruk is captured, Rommel will have a free run into Egypt.’

  ‘I agree,’ Logan answered. ‘But it strikes me as being very dodgy, and I’m sure Rommel will be aware of what’s happening and will give us a warm welcome.’

  At that moment, Penrose was standing on the port wing. By sheer coincidence he was thinking the same thing. Feeling his hand shake slightly, he reached into a trouser pocket, and after fiddling with the lid of the small box, took out a Digoxin tablet and quickly put it in his mouth.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  At 0900 the next morning, a convoy of trucks arrived alongside Helix and the other two warships. On each vessel, lower deck was cleared. All ratings not on duty, formed a chain from the quarterdeck’s gangway onto the wharf. The warmth of the early morning sun began to take effect and soon each man, although stripped to the waist, began to sweat profusely as they passed the heavy boxes to one another. At the top of the gangway the boxes were handed to another group who began stacking them up.

  ‘If I drop one of these fuckin’ boxes on my foot,’ grunted Knocker White as he accepted a box from Dolly Gray, ‘do you think I’d end up in Bighi and get my ticket home?’

  ‘Probably,’ Gray replied, sweating profusely while grasping hold of the handles. ‘But remember, you don’t get your tot in hospital, and they stick needles in your arse.’

  ‘Bollocks to that,’ Knocker said, turning and passing the box to Bud Abbot, ‘I don’t mind the needles, but going without my tot wouldn’t be worth it, even if I did get my ticket.’

  Standing on Helix’s quarterdeck, Manley looked at the weather-beaten face of Chief Bosun’s Mate Charlie Jackson, and said, ‘Some of the boxes can be stored in the after deck and main passageways.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ Jackson replied. Then, giving Manley a thoughtful look, added, ‘If you don’t mind me saying, sir, wouldn’t it be better to secure the heavier boxes either side of the port and starboard waist, it would help trim the ship in case to we have to dodge a few bombs.’

  ‘I agree, Buffer,’ Manley answered feeling slightly embarrassed having not considered how the weight of the cargo could dangerously affect the ship’s trim.

  By 1130, loading was finished. “Up spirits, cooks to the galley,” was piped. After ensuring the boxes were safely stowed, Manley went to the captain’s cabin and reported this to Penrose.

  ‘Thank you, Number One,’ said Penrose who was sitting at his desk writing up the ship’s log. ‘We leave at 2200, by which time the minesweepers will have cleared a path through the minefield outside the harbour.’

  ‘Very good, sir,’ Manley replied, adding cautiously, ‘canteen leave for those off watch?’

  ‘No,’ Penrose answered, shaking his head, ‘I’ve already ordered Derek to flash up the boilers, and special sea duty men will be required for leaving harbour. Besides,’ he added with a sly grin, ‘I want clear heads in case we have to go to action stations.’

  On his way back to his cabin, a pipe over the tannoy telling the crew that mail would close at 1600, reminded Manley to write to Laura.

  In the sick bay, Bamford was checking the contents of two large cardboard box of medical stores that had arrived from Bighi.

  ‘Everything you asked for seems to be here, sir,’ said Bamford, picking up a small bottle of anti-gas green serum.

  ‘No medicinal brandy, I suppose?’ the doctor asked, giving Bamford a sarcastic grin.

  ‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ replied Bamford, ‘but they have sent two dozen boxes of condoms.’

  ‘Here’s hoping they’ll use them,’ the doctor answered. ‘I’ve read that gonorrhoea is rife in Alex.’

  ‘Thanks for the warning, sir,’ Bamford said ruefully, as he stowed everything away in a cupboard. As an afterthought, he added, ‘Do they have a hospital in Alex?’

  ‘Yes,’ the doctor replied. ‘The medical officer on board Eridge told me. It’s called the Queen Alexandria Hospital and is manned by army medical staff.’

  ‘Just as well,’ said Bamford as he stowed the stores away in a cupboard, ‘as I expect we’ll have plenty of patients for them.’

  Shortly after 2100 on Friday 17th July, Helix slipped her moorings and moved slowly from the wharf. Eridge and Dulverton followed on, and with Carlisle in the van, the small flotilla slowly approached the breakwater guarding the entrance to Grand Harbour. On Helix’s bridge, Penrose, who was sitting in his chair, glanced apprehensively up at the sky. Like everyone else on the bridge, he wore a duffel coat and muffler to protect against the chilly night air. Turning to Manley, he said, ‘So much for secrecy, Number One, the damn moonlight is showing up every ship.’

  ‘I see what you mean, sir,’ Manley answered, glancing at Fort St Angelo’s yellow sloping walls and towers, ‘but so far, there’s nothing on radar or asdic.’

  ‘Thank you, Number One,’ Penrose replied, ‘I think I’d better tell the ship’s company where we’re going.’

  Just then, Steward Morris arrived. ‘Yousef left most of your breakfast, sir,’ he said. ‘So I thought you’d like this,’ he added, handing Penrose a steaming hot mug.

  ‘Very considerate of you, Morris, thank you,’ said Penrose, accepting the mug with his free hand.

  Morris grinned, and as he turned to walk away, Manley gave him a searching look, and said, ‘I have a strong suspicion the ships already know where we’re going, sir.’

  Ignoring Manley’s caustic remark, Penrose lent slightly forward, and using his free hand, unhooked the ship’s annoy. ‘D’you hear there,’ he said, ‘this is the captain speaking.’ Throughout the ship, everyone stopped what they were doing and listened.

  ‘No prizes for guessing what he’s going to tell us,’ Dutch Holland said to Bud Abbott while taking a good gulp of tea from his mug. “St
and Easy” had not long been piped and they were in the mess.

  ‘Well, you never know,’ Bud replied, as he lit a cigarette, ‘he might have changed his mind and say we’re going home.’

  ‘Aye,’ chimed in Dingo Bell, ‘and pigs might fuckin’ fly.’

  After Penrose had finished speaking, Knocker White shook his head, and giving Tansey Lee suspicious look, said, ‘Sounds like a fuckin’ suicide mission to me.’

  ‘So what,’ Tansey replied, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders, ‘nobody lives forever.

  Meanwhile, on the bridge, PO Signalman Spud Tate reported. ‘St Angelo flashing, sir.’ Using his binoculars, he went on. ‘Signal reads, “Good luck and God’s Speed. Vain”.’

  ‘Thank you, Yeoman,’ Penrose replied, muttering warily, ‘I think we’ll need all the luck we can get.’

  No sooner had they passed the breakwater than everyone felt the deck rise and fall as the flotilla was met by a pronounced swell from the Mediterranean Sea.

  ‘Fall out special sea duty men, Number One,’ said Penrose, ‘and revert to defence stations.’

  Minutes later, a signal was received from Carlisle, ordering the three destroyers to increase speed to twenty knots, then ten degrees to port and continue due south. Penrose gave Manley an all-knowing glance, and said, ‘Neame isn’t wasting any time, eh, Number One?’

  ‘Can’t say I blame him, sir,’ Manley replied, feeling a cold breeze fan his face, ‘the quicker we deliver this ammunition the safer we’ll all feel.’