Battle Ensign

by Thomas E. Lightburn

  ‘Yes, I must admit, it does feel odd,’ Manley replied. ‘If it wasn’t for the sound of the generators, we could be in dry dock.’

  That night, Manley lay in his bunk listening to the soporific hiss of the air circulating in the punkah-louvres and imagining Laura, lying in bed, hoping she wasn’t in pain. Finally, he fell asleep, feeling her arms around him and her warm lips on his.

  The next morning, Manley was sitting at his desk writing up the ship’s log when Lieutenant Powers knocked on the door and was told to enter.

  ‘This just arrived, sir,’ he said, handing Manley a signal. ‘It appears we’re getting a new first lieutenant.’

  ‘And about time, too,’ Manley replied. However, as he read the signal, he felt the blood drain from his face. Unable to believe his eyes, he reread the signal.

  From C-in-C Portsmouth.

  To Commander H. Manley, R.N. HMS Helix.

  Date 5th August 1942.

  Lieutenant Commander, The Right Honourable Basil Foster-Price, R.N., has been appointed to H.M.S Helix as First Lieutenant and will report for duty on Thursday 6th August, 1942.

  ‘My God, FP,’ Manley muttered as he slowly closed the log. ‘Bloody FP.’

  ‘The Right Honourable, eh, sir,’ said Powers, ‘how are we to address him?’

  ‘You can forget the title,’ Manley angrily replied, ‘just plain Number One. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes, sir, have you, err… served with him before,’ Manley answered, noticing the obvious animosity in the captain’s voice.’

  ‘No,’ Manley replied, ‘but we met briefly some time go.’

  ‘Are you all right, sir?’ Powers asked. ‘You’ve look rather pale.’

  ‘Err… yes, thank you,’ Manley managed to reply, ‘carry on and ask the steward to bring me a strong cup of coffee.’

  ‘Very good, sir,’ Powers replied, taken aback by Manley’s strange reaction to what he thought would be good news.

  No sooner had Powers left than Manley began wondering how he could get rid of FP. This was the man he was almost sure was responsible for Laura’s accident. Suddenly, the thought of seeing FP every day and night for the foreseeable future made him feel physically sick. But he asked himself, what could he do? The contingencies of war meant experienced officers were in short supply. Therefore, any request to the C-in-C would certainly be refused. Furthermore, any excuse for doing so on personal grounds would almost certainly meet with disapproval. So, his hands were tied. Still lost in thought, he hardly heard the steward come in and place a cup of coffee on his leather-bound blotter. And more importantly, he reflected while sipping his drink, it was vital not to allow his personal feeling for FP to cloud his judgment and affect his responsibilities.

  That night he hardly slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Laura’s tear-stained face and the tall, fair-haired figure of FP standing by her bedside, looking at her with his beady brown eyes. He hardly heard “call the hands” at 0600 or notice the steward standing by his bunk, holding a cup of tea.

  FP arrived on board Helix shortly after 0900. Lieutenant Powers knocked on Manley’s door and was told to enter. The door opened, and seeing FP standing behind Powers, Manley felt his heart rate increase.

  ‘Lieutenant Commander Foster-Price, sir,’ said Powers.

  ‘Yes, I can see that,’ snapped Manley, ‘carry on and close the door.’

  No sooner had Powers left, than FP’s slightly tanned face broke into a wide grin. He stepped closer to Manley’s desk, and proffering his hand, said in that plummy voice Manley remembered so well, ‘Hugh, old boy, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.’

  Ignoring FP’s hand, Manley remained seated, and staring coldly at FP, replied, ‘I wish I could say the same.’ Then, doing his best to control his pent-up anger, Manley raised his voice, then went on. ‘And remember, I’m your commanding officer and you will address me as “sir” at all times. Now stand to attention.’

  Taken aback by Manley’s outburst, FP’s face turned crimson. ‘But I thought you’d be glad to see me… sir,’ he cautiously replied, shuffling to attention.

  ‘Glad to see you,’ Manley seethed, ‘if I had my way I’d have you off my ship before you’d unpacked your gear.’

  ‘But, why?’ FP asked, looking somewhat puzzled.

  ‘Because,’ Manley grunted, ‘it was due to you that Laura is now in hospital having had part of her leg amputated.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ FP answered hotly. ‘It was an accident. It had been raining pretty hard and the road was slippery. The car swerved and…’

  Manley interrupted him. ‘Because you were drunk and lost control of the car,’ he thundered.

  FP lent forward, and placing both hands on Manley’s deck, narrowed his beady brown eyes and staring keenly at Manley, said, ‘No, I wasn’t drunk, and even though you are my commanding officer, sir, you’ve no right to accuse me of such a thing, so, I suggest you contact the C-in-C’s office and ask for me to be to reappointed.’

  ‘You know bloody well personal problems wouldn’t be accepted as a valid reason to get you removed,’ Manley replied, ‘but I suppose you could always use your father’s influence…’

  ‘And you know I wouldn’t do that,’ FP answered, then standing back from the desk, added, ‘so it looks like I’m stuck with you.’

  ‘And unfortunately, I with you,’ Manley replied firmly, ‘but one hint of inefficiency, or anything else, and I’ll have you removed. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Perfectly, sir,’ F P answered bluntly.

  ‘I haven’t received your service documents, so what was your last ship?’ asked Manley.

  ‘I’ve recently finished a gunnery course at Whale Island,’ FP replied, ‘prior to that I was navigating officer in Airedale on escort duty in the Atlantic.’

  ‘Good,’ Manley said, ‘so you’ll be familiar with the Hunts?’

  ‘Very much so,’ replied FP. ‘But may I ask what the ship’s movements are?’

  ‘As you are aware, the ship’s company are on leave,’ Manley replied. ‘When they return tomorrow, I’ll be briefing the officers. That’s when you’ll receive your answer. Understood?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ FP replied curtly.

  ‘Right then,’ said Manley, ‘as the Chief Bosun’s Mate Harris is on board, I suggest you find him and have him take you around the ship. Now,’ he added, dismissively, ‘carry on, and remember what I said.’

  ‘Before I go, sir,’ said FP, putting on his cap, ‘how is Laura? I did write but haven’t received an answer.’

  ‘I wonder why,’ Manley replied sarcastically, ‘but if you must know, she’s as well as can be expected, now get out.’

  After FP had gone, Manley realised his hands were shaking and he was covered in sweat.

  Just before morning “stand easy” was piped, Sub Lieutenant Brownlow arrived carrying a buff-coloured envelope marked, “Top Secret”.

  ‘Thank you, Sub,’ said Manley, accepting the envelope, ‘I trust you had a pleasant leave?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, sir,’ Brownlow replied, ‘but like the rest of the officers, I’m dying to know what’s brewing.’

  ‘Well, you’ll soon know,’ Manley answered with a smile, ‘now please carry on.’

  As Manley thought, the envelope contained the details of Operation Jubilee, and for the next half an hour, he carefully studied its contents.

  During the evening, ratings and officers began to return from leave and by 0900 on Friday 7th August, everyone was on board. At 1300, all officers stood up as Manley, followed by FP, entered the wardroom.

  ‘Stand at ease, gentlemen, and smoke if you want to,’ said Manley, who, like FP, stood in front of the officers, whose faces he had come to know as well as his own. After giving FP a quick glance, he went on. ‘Before I go into our future movements, I would like to introduce you to Lieutenant Commander Foster-Price, our new first lieutenant.

  ‘Good afternoon, gentlemen,’ FP said, in his unmistakable plummy voice
. ‘I won’t keep you long, only to say that I intend to meet each one of you over the next few days. In the meantime, if you have any immediate problems, don’t hesitate to come and see me. Thank you.’

  During the next half hour Manley explained the details of Operation Jubilee, adding, ‘Dieppe is about eighty miles from Portsmouth. At 0100 on the nineteenth of August, Helix, in company with Albrighton, Berkeley, Brocklesby, Bleasdale and Garth, will leave Portsmouth and rendezvous with the Polish destroyer, Slazak, five miles west of the Solent. Lieutenant Commander Byron in Brocklesby will be Captain D. Now, as it will be British Summer Time, the clocks will be advanced one hour and it will be almost daylight when you leave. I must stress that surprise is essential; if the invasion fleet is spotted, then we’re in trouble. That’s why, as I’ve said, the flanking attacks have been set for 0540. The six destroyers will proceed to the coast and bombard the headlands overlooking Red and White Beaches. Helix and Albrighton will detach from the destroyers and support the landings directly in front of Dieppe. Any questions?’

  ‘I have one, sir,’ said Lieutenant Powers, ‘how long will the bombardment last for?’

  ‘Captain Hughes-Hallet will determine this,’ Manley replied, ‘and send a signal to Lieutenant Commander Byron, who will inform the other destroyers. Meanwhile, individual captains are to use their initiative, and get as close to the beach as possible.’

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Lieutenant Weir, ‘but I’m somewhat concerned. You said the only support the landings will have will only come from the destroyers and a few attacks by the RAF. Surely the four-point shells from our destroyers won’t be powerful enough if the enemy are well dug in.’

  ‘Your question is a good one,’ Manley answered, feeling slightly uncomfortable. ‘But I can’t give you an answer. We’ll just have to wait and see.’

  ‘Will you be addressing the ship’s company, sir? asked Sub Lieutenant Milton.

  ‘As security is paramount, I’ll be doing so when we put to sea,’ said Manley, ‘now, if there’s no more questions, I suggest you carry on.’

  Half an hour later, Manley and OOD Sub Lieutenant Jewitt were watching PO Hardman overseeing seamen practicing raising and lowering the port lifeboat.

  ‘Everything all right, PO?’ Manley asked Hardman.

  ‘Well, sir,’ Hardman quietly replied, ‘I’ll feel a lot better when we get back from this bloody place, Dieppe.’

  ‘How the blazes do you know that?’ snapped Manley, glancing furtively around. ‘That’s supposed to be top secret.’

  Hardman shook his head and gave a slight laugh. ‘It seems the rating who was on duty outside the room where you had your meeting with the admiral, overheard everything that was said. Now, he’s married to one of the women in the NAAFI, and he told her everything. Now everyone knows what’s happening.

  Manley took a deep breath, and giving a quick roll of his eyes, glanced at Jewitt, and said, ‘So much for security.’

  The news of the forthcoming raid on Dieppe quickly spread throughout the ship. In the senior ratings mess Paddy O’Malley looked at Harry Johnson, who, like Paddy, was getting ready to go ashore, and said, ‘Be Jesus, Harry, do you know where this place Dieppe is?’

  ‘Yes,’ Harry replied, making sure his shoes were properly shined, ‘I think it’s some small fishing port on the French coast.’

  ‘Maybe the Frogs will throw some fresh fish our way,’ chimed in Dai Evans.

  ‘I’ve a feeling we’ll get more than a few fish thrown at us, Taffy, my son,’ Bob Shilling replied warily.

  ‘Och, I hear those French partys, don’t shave under their arms,’ Jock Forbes said to Dutch Holland. They were in the seaman’s mess, finishing of mugs of tea before going ashore.

  ‘I don’t care,’ Dutch replied, giving Jock a salacious grin, ‘as long as there’s plenty between you know where.’

  Throughout the next week, the ship was a hive of activity. Stores were replenished. Lighters came alongside and ammunition taken on board. Manley watched as FP supervised everything, and was secretly impressed with his efficiency. One morning, Manley met the thick set figure of Chief Bosun’s Mate Charlie Jackson, on the quarterdeck.

  ‘Morning, Chief,’ Manley said, feeling the warm breeze fan his face, ‘how are you getting along with the first lieutenant?’

  The Buffer’s weather-beaten features broke into a wide grin. ‘All right, but he don’t half speak posh, like one of those BBC announcers.’

  ‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ Manley replied with a smile.

  ‘Anyway, sir,’ the buffer went on, ‘he seems pretty strict. Yesterday he put the guns crew through their paces, but wasn’t satisfied, and told Lieutenant Powers to give them extra practice, so he did.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Manley muttered to himself. He was about to walk away when he heard the ringing of the quarterdeck telephone.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ shouted duty QM Able Seaman Buster Brown, holding the receiver, ‘there’s call for you.’

  How odd, thought Manley. Usually, telephone calls for him were put through to his cabin, ‘Thank you,’ Manley said, taking hold of the receiver.

  ‘Commander Manley, who is this?’

  ‘It’s me, darling,’ cried Laura.

  ‘Good Lord,’ said Manley, ‘it’s wonderful to hear you, but how did you get through?’

  ‘Sister O’Malley let me use the phone in her office,’ Laura replied. ‘I told the operator in barracks I was your sister and it was an emergency.’

  ‘How enterprising, darling,’ Manley said, smiling. ‘But tell me, how are you?’

  ‘Goods news,’ she replied. ‘The doctor’s told me I’ll be going home in two weeks. Father has arranged for a daily visit from a nurse and Doctor Pascoe, our family GP.’

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ Manley said, then added, ‘but I’m afraid I must go, I have defaulters in ten minutes.’

  ‘Oh, darling, do take care. I love you so much, and…’

  ‘Try not to worry,’ Manley said, and feeling a lump come into his throat, added, ‘I love you also, darling, and one day you won’t have to lie about being my wife. Goodbye, I’ll see you soon.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Shortly before 0030 on 18th August, FP went to Manley’s cabin, knocked and was told to enter.

  ‘The ship is ready for sea, sir,’ he said standing smartly in front of Manley who was sat at his desk. ‘Special sea duty men closed up, Chief Coxswain Barnes at the wheel and all deadlights secured.’

  ‘Thank you, Number One,’ Manley replied firmly, ‘I’ll be up top presently.’

  Half an hour later, with Brocklesby in the van, the six destroyers slipped their moorings, and sailed silently out of Portsmouth harbour into the Solent. It was daylight and a chilly northern breeze rippled an otherwise calm sea.

  Like everyone else on Helix’s bridge, Manley wore a duffle coat over his uniform. He was sitting on his chair, closely watching Albrighton’ s foamy wash churning up the dark blue sea, a hundred yards in front his ship’s bow.

  ‘Fall out special se duty men, Number One,’ Manley said to FP, who was standing near the binnacle, ‘I don’t want to get too close in case we have to suddenly increase speed.’

  No sooner had he spoken, than PO Signalman Spud Tate cried, ‘Warship approaching one mile to port, sir.’

  ‘That’ll be the Polish destroyer, Slazak,’ said Manley, ‘she’ll come with us, before breaking away to protect the eastern flank of the convoys.’

  ‘Brocklesby flashing, sir, ‘”all ships increase speed to twenty knots”.’

  Just then, Sub Lieutenant Brownlow came onto the bridge. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said to Manley, ‘I’ve just picked up a signal from Dover. A German convoy has been sighted heading down channel.’

  ‘Then here’s hoping it doesn’t discover Number Three Commando approaching Yellow Beach,’ Manley replied, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

  ‘Star shells exploding about five miles to port, sir,’ reported Able Seaman
Dusty Miller from the crow’s nest.

  Everyone on the bridge looked away to their left and saw small bursts of yellow explosions lighting up the night sky.

  ‘With a bit of luck, the Germans will think it’s only a small raid,’ FP said to Manley.

  ‘I hope you’re right, Number One,’ Manley, replied, ‘or else we’ve lost the element of surprise and the bastards will be waiting for us.’

  Shortly after 0400, Manley, using his binoculars, saw a long, shingle beach and roof tops of houses, glistening in the early morning sunshine. He then focussed on the rocky headland overlooking the western side of the beach. This was the target Helix had been given. He recalled the question raised at the meeting with the admiral concerning the effectiveness of the destroyer’s 4.7 shells against a well dug enemy. Nevertheless, he was determined that Helix and her crew would do their best. Manley then looked around, and saw through the grey, morning mist, Albrighton, a few miles on Helix’s port beam.

  ‘Enemy coast roughly fifteen miles away, three assault ships and dozens of landing craft dead ahead,’ Able Seaman Dinga Bell reported from the crow’s nest. Simultaneously, Dolly Gray reported a large cluster of small and large black dots on his pale green radar screen.

  ‘That’ll be Glengyle, Prince Charles and Prince Leopold, who have just disembarked from the Canadians into the landing craft,’ Manley said to FP, while focussing his binoculars on dozens of landing craft heading towards Dieppe.

  ‘Better sound action stations, Number One, and hoist the battle ensign.’

  In a matter of minutes, PO Yeoman Tate had raised the large union jack to the top of the mainmast. A sudden gust of wind made it flap defiantly as if announcing its presence to the enemy. Meanwhile, each department reported they were closed up. Manley unhooked the tannoy and in a calm voice, said, ‘We are about to open fire as we escort the commandos inland. I will keep you informed.’

  Most of the ship’s company had a fairly good idea what awaited them, nevertheless, Manley’s words immediately increased the tension that had been felt since the ship left Portsmouth.

  ‘Keep us informed, he says,’ said Dutch Holland to his oppo, Dinga Bell, both of whom were manning the port pom-pom. ‘From where we’re sitting, we’ll have a bird’s eye view of everything.’