Battle Ensign

by Thomas E. Lightburn

  ‘My God, now, they’re being slaughtered!’ cried Manley, seeing men desperately throwing their arms up and disappearing under the dark blue water. The remaining eight LCAs managed to land the Essex Scottish, who immediately they stepped onto Red Beach and came under blistering fusillade of machine gunfire.

  ‘Second and third waves coming in, sir,’ shouted Lieutenant Powers.

  ‘That’ll be the fusiliers and the marines,’ Manley muttered to himself. However, they fared no better than the Essex Scottish. Everyone on the bridge watched as the battalion was reduced to scattered groups, clinging to holes in the shingle, in an attempt to protect themselves against the deadly hail of bullets.

  A similar fate awaited the two LCMs and five LCAs approaching White Beach carrying the marines.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ blurted Lieutenant Powers, ‘one of LCAs has ran aground and has been hit by mortars.’

  Manley was too occupied watching the ship’s 4.7 shells explode inland and lines of yellow gunfire from the Oerlikons and pom-poms rake the enemy’s expertly concealed positions in the casino, and headland. It was when Powers yelled out, saying that two LCAs were hit by mortar fire, that he turned his attention to the marines who had had managed to reach the beach. As the marines stormed ashore, Manley winched as he saw the marines come under intense, accurate machine gun fire and mortar bombardment from both headlands. In a matter of minutes, the beach was littered with prostrate bodies as black smoke and flames curled skywards from the burning LCAs.

  The time was now 0930.‘Signal from Brocklesby,’ shouted PO Tate, ‘It says, “Message from Calpe. Commence Operation Vanquish. Withdrawal to begin 1030. All ships to increase shelling both headlands. Reduce enemy’s ability to hamper essential”.’

  Manley gave Powers a grim look, and said, ‘Thank God for that, Guns.’

  ‘I agree, sir,’ Powers replied, ‘I thought Dunkirk was bad enough, but this is a bloody disaster.’

  However, the withdrawal from the beaches proved to be equally disastrous.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Shortly before the order to evacuate, Manley and everyone else on Helix’ s bridge watched as a Spitfire, darted along the beaches, thickened the smoke screen laid down earlier. But bedlam reigned supreme. As Helix moved closer to the beach in order to give support to the men, the ship came under accurate enemy gunfire, and with every near miss, the ship rocked like a child’s cradle.

  ‘I can’t see how more smoke can help them, sir,’ Sub Lieutenant Baker yelled over the deafening din caused by A and B guns. ‘The Jerries on the headland can see every move we make.’

  ‘Well, here’s hoping our guns will shut them up,’ Manley replied.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ cried Sub Lieutenant Baker, ‘but as far as you know, are there any specific plans for the getting the men off the beaches?’

  ‘None whatsoever,’ bellowed Manley, ‘but no doubt, the LCAs and the barges captured by the marines, will be used, but it’ll be very dangerous.’

  ‘Signal from C-in-C. sir, said PO Tate. ‘“Hearse to meet on arrival to take Lieutenant Commander’s body to local undertaker to await collection by parents for private burial. Able Seamen Bennet and Payne to be taken by ambulance to mortuary at RNH Haslar. Next of kin have been informed”.’

  ‘Thank you, PO,’ Manley quietly replied.

  Manley’s prediction proved to be correct. While Helix’s guns continued to pound away, four LCAs were seen emerging from the smoke screen heading towards Red Beach, only to be met with a storm of mortar and machine gun fire.

  ‘How far away are we now from the beach, Guns?’ Manley shouted.

  ‘Just over a hundred yards, sir,’ Powers replied.

  ‘It looks like the Germans have moved forward and have reoccupied the surrounding slopes, sir,’ shouted Sub Lieutenant Baker.

  ‘Then let’s move fifty yards nearer. This will allow our small arms to concentrate on them,’ Manley bellowed, as a hail of water from a shell exploding twenty yards away, drenched him and everyone on the bridge.

  ‘Isn’t that a bit close, sir?’ Powers replied, glancing warily at Manley.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Manley answered stoically, ‘but we‘ve got to give those poor beggars all the possible support, besides,’ he went on, ‘I was told to use my initiative.’

  ‘The LCAs have made it, sir,’ barked Lieutenant Baker, ‘and they’re beginning to take off the men.’

  ‘One of them is so overcrowded that it is beginning to sink,’ Manley replied, ‘and there’s sweet bugger all we can do to help them.

  The gun’s crew and everyone on the bridge watched as one of the LCAs managed to turn and head towards Helix.

  Manley immediately unhooked the ships tannoy. ‘This is the captain speaking,’ he said, doing his best to sound calm. ‘All hands, including the doctor and first aid party, muster on the upper deck, ready to receive men from the landing craft.’

  Manley grabbed a loud hailer and went onto the starboard wing. He watched anxiously as the LCA, crowded with men, came along the ship’s starboard side. Many men wore blood-stained slings; others had their heads half covered with bloody bandages, while several lay on stretchers, covered with great coats and blankets. Those standing, still wore their steel helmets and carried rifles. The remainder were bare-headed. All of them looked pale and drawn.

  Manley gave a quick wave to an army officer who, despite a heavily bandaged head, stood holding a megaphone.

  ‘Glad to see you, how are things ashore?’ Manley shouted.

  ‘Bloody chaotic,’ yelled the officer.

  ‘Then the quicker we get you and your men on board, the better,’ Manley replied.

  In a matter of minutes, guard rails were removed. Scrambling nets were placed over the side and hoists were rigged ready to receive the stretcher cases.

  Despite the constant gunfire coming from the beach and enemy shells bursting nearby, the wounded were brought on board. Strong hands then helped soldiers onto the deck.

  The injured were quickly attended to by Surgeon Lieutenant Latta and SBA Wright, while the chief cook and his staff dished out mugs of warm tea. A second LCA arrived, and by 1200, corridors, and flats, were crammed with Canadians and Royal Marines, all of whom still had their rifles. Men lying on the quarterdeck were too exhausted to notice the bodies of Wacker Payne and Wiggy Bennett, after all, they had just seen many of their comrades lying dead on the beach. Others, glad to be away from the carnage ashore, simply sat quietly and sipped their tea.

  Manley turned left and saw Albrighton, half a mile away, also taking off soldiers from another LCA.

  ‘Better do a quick round, and see if there’re any more casualties,’ Manley shouted to Lieutenant Powers, who nodded and quickly, and left the bridge.

  At that moment, a tall, army officer came onto the bridge. The left side of his steel helmet had a slight dint and the khaki battle dress he wore was covered in sand, as were his boots and gaiters. From under the flap of his brown holster he wore on his left side, the handle of his Webley revolver could be seen, ready for use. His dark blue eyes were bloodshot and his unshaven features looked pale and strained. A single gold crown on either shoulder epaulet indicated his rank.

  ‘Major MacDonald, South Saskatchewans, sir,’ he yelled, giving Manley a smart, parade ground salute. His throaty Canadian accent sounded tired. ‘I know how busy you must be, sir, but I thought I’d come and thank you for rescuing myself and what is left of my company.’ As if to confirm his sentiments, they both instinctively ducked as a deluge of water from a near explosion swept over everyone on the bridge.

  ‘Not at all,’ Manley replied, wiping water from his face with the back of his hand. ‘The beaches look in a terrible state.’

  ‘Yes, and the smoke screen didn’t help much. There are dozens of wrecked landing craft, and scores of dead bodies all over the shingle. The Jerries in the headland must have had a perfect view of everything. All communication with the command ship was lost when our radio car w
as hit by a mortar. Most of my company are dead. Lieutenant-Colonel Menard, my adjutant, and several officers have been either killed or taken prisoner. It really is chaotic.’

  Manley was about to speak when Lieutenant Powers arrived. ‘Other than a very tired crew and a few cuts and bruises, nothing serious, sir,’ he yelled, ‘but we are dangerously low on shells and ammunition for the pom-poms and Oerlikons.’

  ‘Then I think we better leave before we’re blown out of the water,’ Manley shouted. ‘Port ten degrees, revolutions five, increase speed ten knots.’

  Digger Barnes repeated the order, and seconds later, the ship slowly turned around. Manley unhooked the ship’s tannoy. ‘This is the captain speaking,’ he said in a clear calm voice. ‘We are now returning to Portsmouth. As you can see the ship is crammed with troops, I’m sure you’ll do your best for them. Everyone is to remain at action stations. Well done all of you.’

  The time was shortly after 1330, by which time the smoke screen had been dissipated by a fresh northerly breeze. As the ship increased speed, Manley turned and gave a final look at the beach. The scene that met his eyes was one he would never forget. Bodies supported by their life-jackets, lay floating in the sea or rolling about in the waves. Body parts washed to and fro on the edge of the shingle. Tanks and half-trucks were on fire and the beach was wreathed in smoke. With tears welling up in his eyes, Manley slowly lowered his binoculars, and walked onto the port wing.

  In company with the remaining destroyers, all of whom were also packed with soldiers, Helix headed across the Channel. The sea was calm and grey clouds partially hid the warm August sun. The warships were surrounded by numerous civilian ships also loaded with military personnel. Half an hour after leaving the beaches, the ships were attacked by Focke-Wulfs and Heinkels. By the time a squadron of Hurricane arrived and attacked them, nearly all of the civilian vessels and the destroyers had suffered damage.

  The convoy arrived off the Hampshire coast a little after 1700. Every vessel was packed with soldiers, many of whom had died of their wounds. An hour later, Prince Leopold, Invicta and Prince Astrid sailed into Portsmouth harbour and tied up alongside Fountain Lake Jetty. They were followed Calpe, Fernie, Albrighton, Brocklesby, and Helix, who had been instructed to tie up alongside Kings Wharf, while Bleasdale, Garth and Slazak also made their way to berth at Fountain Lake Jetty.

  ‘Thank God, the nightmare is over,’ sighed Manley, watching from the bridge as the special sea duty men removed a section of the guard rails on the ship’s port side, ready to receive the gangways. Helix, being the junior ship, was the last to enter the harbour. Many of the soldiers, their white bandaged heads and slings standing out among the drab khaki, laughed and joked, no doubt glad to be in England. Helix nosed her way past Fort Blockhouse and tied up alongside Kings Wharf, aft of Brocklesby. For the first time in days, Manley thought of Laura and made a mental note to telephone the hospital ward and tell her about FP and his final words before he died.

  No sooner had the gangways been lowered into position, than medical staff from the civilian and naval ambulances came on board. Manley saw Surgeon Lieutenant Latta and SBA Bamford speaking briefly to a white coated doctor. They seemed to come to some arrangement and shook hands. Manley and Lieutenant Powers left the bridge. Powers went to the port waist to ensure the ship-to-shore telephone line was rigged. Manley made his way to the quarterdeck and accepted a grateful handshake from a few officers and soldiers. Shortly afterwards, any soldier who could stand, stood up as some of their comrades, who had died during the crossing, were taken off on stretchers. The seriously wounded were either helped down the gangway by medical staff or stretchered off. Then came the walking wounded, followed by the remaining military personnel, including the officers. As each soldier stepped off the gangway, they were met by a member of the WVS, (Women’s Voluntary Service), smiling, while handing out bars of chocolate and cakes. A similar scene was taking place on the other ships. Soon, convoys of ambulances could be seen driving along the wharf, heading for either the local hospitals or the Royal Naval Hospital at Haslar, at Gosport.

  As the last soldier left Helix, Major MacDonald, met Manley at the top of the brow.

  ‘Once again, Commander, thank you and your crew for all you’ve done. I’m sure Canada won’t forget it,’ he said, as they warmly shook hands.

  ‘It’s us who should thank Canada for her sacrifice,’ Manley replied sombrely, remembering the carnage he had witnessed on the beaches[8].

  The major snapped to attention, and after giving Manley another of his smart, parade ground salutes, he turned and walked down the gangway and climbed into a coach full of soldiers that immediately drove off. The only vehicles remaining near the foot of the gangway, were a naval ambulance and gleaming black hearse with curtains dawn across the side windows.

  Manley said to Lieutenant Powers who had returned from the fo’c’sle, ‘Better go and tell the Chief GI to have the first lieutenant’s body brought to the quarterdeck. Pipe for the side party. Clear lower deck. Officers and senior ratings fall in on the quarterdeck and stand by to have the jackstay flag lowered.’

  Meanwhile, Manley watched several able seamen mopping up dried bloodstains and pools of vomit from seasick soldiers.

  ‘To be sure, what a fuckin’ mess,’ Murphy, remarked to Dutch Holland.

  ‘Shit in it, you two,’ snapped PO Mills, ‘and just be glad you’re not one of those poor buggers lying on the beaches in France.’

  Five minutes later, Chief GI Digger Barnes arrived along with four ratings carrying FP’s body on a stretcher covered with a dark brown blanket, and placed it near the top of the gangway.

  ‘Ship’s company, attention. Off caps,’ shouted Manley.

  PO Mills, two ratings, each holding a silver bosun’s call, were fallen in by the side of the gangway. Opposite them, OOD Sub Lieutenant Milton, Manley and the rest of the ship’s officers stood in line, stony faced and silent. Close by, stood two elderly undertakers wearing morning suits, and four SBAs.

  All eyes were concentrated on the three stretchers. Suddenly, the ship’s bell rang out and the white ensign on the quarterdeck’s jackstay was lowered.

  Manley gave a quick nod to side party who piped “the still”. The SBAs carefully picked up Bennet and Payne and carried the stretchers down the gangway and slid them into the open back doors of the ambulance. The undertakers bent down and slowly lifted up FP’s stretcher. After a momentary pause, they took it down the gangway and placed it into the back of the hearse then climbed inside. As soon as the hearse had driven away, Manley shouted, ‘Ship’s company, stand at ease. On caps. Carry on.’

  Gradually the officers and crew turned and left followed by the senior ratings. Manley turned to Lieutenant Powers, and was about to speak when he heard the quarterdeck telephone ring.

  ‘Call for you, sir,’ QM Knocker White said, holding the receiver in his hand.

  ‘Thank you,’ Manley replied, accepting the receiver while wondering who could be ringing him. ‘Commander Manley,’ he snapped.

  ‘Oh, Hugh, darling, don’t sound so official, it’ me,’ cried Laura.

  ‘Laura, how wonderful to hear you,’ Manley said, doing his best to keep his voice down. ‘How are you, and how on earth did you manage to get through so soon?’

  Laura gave a short laugh, then said, ‘I’m fine, but I heard on the wireless three men had been killed on your ship. I was sick with worry, so I told the operator I was your wife. What happened, are you all right?’

  ‘I know I shouldn’t say this over the phone, but it was FP and two ratings who were killed. FP joined the ship shortly before we sailed and I intend on recommending him for a Victoria Cross.’

  ‘Good Lord, poor FP, I’m so sorry. He must have done something really brave.’

  ‘Yes, he certainly did,’ Manley said quietly. ‘I’ll tell you more when I see you, but I must go, now. I love you and one day you won’t have to lie about being my wife, goodbye darling.’ With a sigh, he repl
aced the receiver. Manley walked over to Lieutenant Powers, and said, ‘I’ll be in my cabin, I have three letters to write.’

  ‘Very good, sir,’ Powers replied, glancing up at the mainmast, ‘shall I order the battle ensign to be taken down?’

  Manley didn’t answer straight away. Instead, he looked up at the white ensign, fluttering from the mainmast, and feeling his throat contract, replied, ‘Yes, Guns, I intend on sending it to the first lieutenant’s parents.’

  ‘But, sir,’ Powers replied, ‘it’s full of bullet holes and looks rather worse for wear.’

  Manley gave a quick, nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, then, with a wry smile playing around his mouth, said, ‘Just like the ship, eh, Guns?’ Then slowly walked away.

  EPILOGUE

  Hugh Manley and Laura were married in St Michael’s Parish Church, Helston, at midday on Saturday the 25th of October, 1942. Despite a chilly western breeze, the sun, half hidden by grey clouds, bathed the crowd gathered outside the church in warm sunshine. After returning from Dieppe, Helix had undergone a two-week refit, during which time the ship’s company enjoyed a week’s leave, thus allowing Manley and Laura time to arrange the wedding.

  Inside, the church was full of relatives and the friends of the Trevethick family as well as Harold and Martha, Manley’s parents. Several of Helix’s ship’s officers and crew, transported from Portsmouth by a coach, occupied two rows of pews. Among them sat Sub Lieutenant Baker now engaged to Janet, his childhood sweetheart, Chief Stoker Harry Johnson, CERA Paddy O’Malley and Joyce, recently married in Gosport’s registry office.

  Suddenly, the melodic sound of the organ blaring out Felix Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, heralded the end of the ceremony. The stout, oaken door of the church opened. Seconds later, to the delight of the crowd, Manley and Laura appeared, their faces wreathed in smiles. Behind Laura stood Susan, her maid of honour, wearing a lovely white dress. Then came Manley’s parents, Laura’s father and the Reverend Timothy Feneck, whose cassock hung around his small, portly figure like a miniature bell tent.