Churchill's Folly

by Rogers, Anthony; Jellicoe, Lord;

  I ordered S/Lt. Sotirion who was at the time getting out of the rangefinder director to follow me. As I was descending from the bridge I met the First Lieutenant who having tried to communicate with the bridge without any result had come up to see what was happening and I ordered him to report to me the state and watertightness of the ship. I then went quickly to the searchlight where I found the quartermaster. The Navigating Officer, S/Lt. S. Moyrikis came a few minutes later. Change over to after steering position was effected immediately and at the same time I got the report of the Chief Engineer that the boilers and engines were in working order. I then ordered the second engineer to take every possible measure for the safety of the ship, and the Chief Engineer to shove up with baulks from the inside of all the damaged watertight compartments. The crew were very cool and everybody was at action stations. I started to move the engines astern and the ship started turning to port. The First Lieutenant reported to me the wardroom and the low power room flooded. The ship listed 10° – 12° to starboard sagging by the head. The explosion was seen by H.M.S. HURWORTH who immediately turned and started flashing. Communication was impossible. As all the lights were in pieces. We tried though with a torch. H.M.S. HURWORTH came near to us and D. 22 himself passed the following signal by voice. “AM COMING ALONGSIDE TO TAKE YOUR CREW AND THEN SINK THE SHIP”. I answered through the B.N.L.O. that I did not agree to sink the ship and that I was going to ground it in Turkish territorial waters. The above order was repeated twice and each time my answer was negative and the only thing that I agreed to was to allow a certain number of the crew whose presence was unnecessary to be transferred on board H.M.S. HURWORTH, and then proceed to Turkish territorial waters. This action of mine was founded on the fact that the list of the ship had stopped at 15° and on the reports of the Chief Engineer and First Lieutenant that no new leaks except from the previously reported ones were caused …

  H.M.S. HURWORTH was manoeuvring to come alongside us, to take over those of the crew which were not needed, and was approximately 200 yards on our starboard side. It was 2210 when a terrific explosion was seen on the HURWORTH on her starboard side to the height of the Captain’s cabin. Loud whistling noises were heard and a flash which reached a height of at least 100 yards. H.M.S. HURWORTH was blown into the air and the ship disappeared instantly.21

  Commander Royston Wright recalled that HMS Hurworth broke in two, with the fore part remaining afloat for about three minutes and the aft end for a few minutes longer:

  The explosion threw me off the bridge and into the sea, on which I landed on my back. After surfacing I first grabbed a float, then, finding myself close to the after part of the ship, I clambered back to investigate. This part was listed perhaps 15 degrees to starboard, was down by the “bows” and was sinking quite slowly. Two of the Hands were getting out the motorboat but nothing was happening around the whaler, in fact I doubt whether there was anyone else on board. In any case had there been anyone, I was quite useless either to give a lead or an order having a mildly fractured spine and being only able to crawl. Someone gave me a cork lifebelt, which I donned and waited for the ship to sink. She did so after about ten minutes very smoothly and with a great hissing of air.22

  The account by Commander Toumbas continues:

  Voices were heard from the sea aft. We picked P.O. Chatizikonjtantinoj who was wounded and as we thought that more voices were heard I ordered a raft to be thrown overboard. The ship was not obeying the rudder I therefore steered by engines.

  I had no hope, nor had anybody else who was on the searchlight platform that anybody from the HURWORTH had survived after the terrific explosion that we had witnessed. I tried though to get near the place of the explosion which was in complete darkness. The terrible end of H.M.S. HURWORTH the ship with which for half a year side by side we had performed splendidly such pleasant tasks under the command of her gallant and heroic Captain D. 22 Commander Wright moved us deeply. Everybody from the ADRIAS loved her and we considered her as we say in the Greek Navy that it was our friendly ship.23

  Even though there was nothing to indicate that anyone had survived, Toumbas ordered that life buoys and floats be thrown overboard before he attempted to take his ship into Turkish waters:

  I decided to move forward despite danger of the watertight bulkheads giving way and new leaks developing. I decided this firstly in order to extinguish, by the bow wave, forward fires that were burning in the wreckage below the bridge and secondly in the unfortunate event of hitting a second mine. If such a thing happened whilst the ship was moving astern then the majority of the crew which were concentrated aft on the quarter deck would have met with certain death. The fires were extinguished after the ship had gone ahead for a while …

  I had no charts and no compasses.

  The small magnetic compass of the searchlight was broken to pieces. With the Polar Star and the high mountains of Kalymno [Kalymnos] as guides I steered the ship where I thought the Turkish coast was, course approximately 070° speed 5 – 6 knots. I felt that I was losing consciousness but soon recovered my senses, under the strong slappings of the quartermaster who I hope was not very pleased with the opportunity that was given to him. I was assured that I had been unconscious for two minutes only, during which time the quartermaster Leading Seaman P. Pavlou took the initiative and ordered a correct movement of the engines.24

  It was still dark when Adrias arrived at Gumusluk Bay, Turkey, with forty-nine dead, wounded or missing. It would be December by the time she was able to continue to Alexandria.

  Incredibly, there were survivors from Hurworth. Many owed their lives to Able Seaman Charles Russell. He had been helping to unshackle Hurworth’s motorboat in order to pick up survivors from Adrias when his own ship was blown up. Russell remained calm, released the boat and with four others took it inshore and lay up for the night. At dawn the men realised they were among enemy shipping in an unfamiliar harbour. In spite of suffering serious burns, Russell took charge and the boat slipped unnoticed from the port. The five returned to the scene of the sinking and in two trips collected thirty-eight survivors who were ferried to an island near the Turkish coast.

  Lieutenant Hugh C.A. Middleton, RN, had been on the ship’s bridge when Hurworth was mined. The force of the explosion flung him into the sea and left him with a dozen or so others clinging to a Carley float:

  Although every effort was made to keep together a floating mine forced the party to divide into two groups. At this time I was with Lieutenant Pearce and about eight ratings, half of whom were wounded; we were supported on two Denton rafts and a cargo chute. The water was warm and the night fine with a breeze from the northward; very slow southerly progress was made by paddling and swimming. Several dark shapes of boats or ships appeared and were hailed by everyone shouting in unison, but it was difficult to determine how far away they were, or to distinguish their type as everybody had their eyes coated with oil fuel.

  1st DAY.

  At about 0200 the party became split up, Lieutenant Pearce, Joiner Ferguson, A.B. Underwood, Stoker O’Donnell [sic: Stoker Albert Donnelly] and myself on a Denton raft continued to make towards PSERIMOS but at dawn it was obvious that KALYMNOS was the closest island and we made for a headland, which appeared to be about 2 – 2½ miles away, just north of PORT VATHI. Our method of progress was for O’Donnell and myself to swim ahead towing the raft behind us, while the other three supported their bodies on it, kicking with their feet and paddling with their hands. Progress, to begin with was fairly good, but became slower towards the end of the forenoon. Underwood, who although unwounded, had failed to assist our movements in any way, and was becoming increasingly pessimistic, after repeated warnings was told either to ‘get on or get off’. At 1100 he was left behind. Soon after this O’Donnell drowned. He had been outstandingly cheerful and hardworking, but throughout the night and day he had inhaled small quantities of seawater and it was obvious that he would not survive. Although by 1500 the shore was only about one mile distance it
did not appear to be getting any closer and everyone was becoming exhausted. By 1700 Lieutenant Pearce and Ferguson were too weak to paddle and not being strong enough myself to tow them ashore I left the raft and swam about ¾ mile to the rocky coastline which I reached about an hour later. After wringing out my battledress I slept during the night on the rocks just clear of the sea.25

  With the help of islanders, Middleton remained in hiding for ten days until he was able to swim to Leros and safety. Stoker Donnelly was posted missing, together with Lieutenant Anthony R.G. Pearce, RNVR, Joiner Duncan Ferguson and Able Seaman Arnold Underwood. Another party, consisting of two officers and nine ratings, clung to a Carley float and paddled ashore at enemy-occupied Pserimos, where they were hidden and cared for by local Greeks before being smuggled to the Turkish mainland. Two more seamen made their way to an island and there rescued by the crew of a caique, and five survivors were taken on board the German GA 45. As for Commander Wright:

  From past experience of picking up survivors in the dark I knew that it was the noisiest who got rescued and this theory I therefore applied. After perhaps fifteen minutes a Carley float appeared and into this I was dragged. My rescuer was Leading Gunner E. SAVAKIS of HHMS ADRIAS, and of his subsequent determination and endurance I cannot speak too highly. I must emphasize that I was a complete passenger. We agreed that we would avoid PSERIMOS and SAVAKIS therefore set about paddling us to a group of islands off the Turkish coast. I doubt whether we were making a half knot but SAVAKIS pulled almost without stopping for eighteen hours until we landed on the uninhabited and completely barren island of LODO at about 1700/23.

  We intended to rest for the night and to endeavour to make the Turkish mainland the following day. Unfortunately during the night the Carley float broke up and in the morning it was obvious that we were a long way clear of the sailing caique route and that the chances of attracting attention were nil. SAVAKIS now volunteered to swim to the next island, a much larger one, from which it might be possible to obtain help. It was a long swim, the weather was not entirely favourable and SAVAKIS was already weakened by his previous efforts. But at 1120 he set out and within six hours was returning with an indescribably welcome caique.26

  Wright was taken on board the caique, part of a clandestine force operating under Commander V. Wolfson, RNVR, and with twenty-two badly injured men, including some who were transferred from the Adrias at Gumusluk, eventually reached Izmir on the morning of Tuesday, 26 October.

  No less tragic was the loss of HMS Eclipse. The destroyer sailed from Alexandria in the early hours of Saturday, 23 October, together with HM ships Petard, Exmoor and Rockwood. Eclipse and Petard had each embarked around 200 army personnel (mainly 4th Battalion Buffs)27 and ten tons of stores. It was intended to rendezvous in Turkish waters twenty-four hours later and transfer passengers and stores to small craft for onward passage to Leros. At about 2.00 p.m. on the 23rd, Rockwood reported water contamination in her forward tanks and returned to Egypt in company with Exmoor. Eclipse and Petard passed through Kos Straits at 11.30 p.m. that night. Half an hour later, HMS Eclipse was rocked by two, almost simultaneous, explosions. The ship listed to port until she lay on her beam and sank within minutes. Her captain, Commander Edward Mack, RN, reported:

  12. Amidships, the soldiers were fallen in a 100 each side, having just come out from forward mess decks. They were carrying their life belts and were receiving their final instructions for disembarking. Only 3 officers and 40 men (approximately) escaped. It is thought that the heavy casualties amongst them may have been partly caused by those on the port side becoming jammed against the guard rails by falling stores, as the ship listed.

  13. Of the ECLIPSE ships company, only 6 Officers and 68 ratings are known to be safe out of a complement of 10 Officers and 190 ratings. It is thought that there was a considerably larger number in the water at the time, but many may have perished while waiting to be picked up.

  HMS PETARD picked up 3 officers and 29 ratings and about 10 soldiers before having to leave the scene.28

  Among the survivors was Sergeant Albert H. Lukehurst of the Buffs:

  “Shortly after midnight” our instructions stated “and some ten miles from your destination, you will tranship into native boats which will convey you to LEROS. The time allowed for the changeover will be one hour only; at the end of this time the destroyer will return. A hot drink will be served to all at 23.30 hrs.”

  After partaking of the ship’s hospitality we came up on deck and were instructed to stand by our kits. I recall coming back to mine and glancing at my watch – it was two minutes past midnight. We were going at full speed, a little over 30 knots. I sat down on my lifebelt and what happened after that is only a ghastly nightmare. I sat there dozing when suddenly, without the slightest warning, the whole deck seemed enveloped in a gigantic flash of flame. The blast that followed the explosion picked me up as a giant hand and I was thrown across the deck. I remember hitting something very hard at the entrance to the hatchway leading to the boilers. Here was all flame and scalding steam and falling metal as the ship broke up. The force of the explosion turned the destroyer on its side and the screws at the rear for one moment threshed the air.

  The first explosion had barely died away when another followed – this time the magazine going up. By this time I was trapped among the falling metal, and struggle as I may, and struggle I most certainly did, I was firmly held by something across my back. This second explosion, killing as it undoubtedly did many of my comrades, certainly saved my life as it freed my back and allowed me to slip into the sea. As I was sitting on my lifebelt at the time of the first explosion it is hardly necessary to say that by the time I reached the water I no longer had it with me! …

  Fortunately I managed to get clear before the ill fated destroyer disappeared beneath the waves – my recollection of those few moments is very dim. Quickly my battledress became sodden and my boots felt like leaden weights; however, floating beside me in the water were several paniers in which our stores were packed and one of these gave me a welcome breather but it soon became obvious that they were rapidly becoming waterlogged and must soon sink.29

  One of the rescuers was Sub Lieutenant Peter Wood, on board the Petard:

  When we stopped our Asdic [sonar] disclosed that there were mines all around us. We managed to clear the minefield and lowered two boats to pick up survivors. I took one of the whalers and made several trips into the oil-covered area and filled the boat with survivors, most of whom were desperately wounded and suffering terribly from oil in their lungs. In the middle of this operation when we were about 300 yards from Petard we heard the sound of German E-boat engines approaching. We held our breath as we watched the phosphorescent wakes of three of these craft pass within 100 yards of us.30

  According to the captain of HMS Petard, Lieutenant Commander Rupert C. Egan, RN, just one unidentified craft was reported in the immediate vicinity. Even so, this was sufficient to prompt the ship’s departure. Initially, Lukehurst was unaware that he had been abandoned:

  Object after object floated by all covered like myself in black oil and unrecognisable. Fate was kind to me that night because just when my panier was almost submerged a small object floated by and in desperation I transferred my grip – words cannot express my feelings when I discovered it to be a lifebelt.

  For a time I hung over my cork life-saver and endeavoured to remove my boots. It was a deadly job for each time I leaned forward to untie my laces I overbalanced and somersaulted. Eventually the job was accomplished and the lifebelt adjusted; it was slightly damaged but good enough for me. Next I emptied my pockets of anything weighty, but as the water was cold I retained my clothing.

  While all this had been going on I had seen no-one in the water, absolutely no-one. This may be accounted for by the fact that the night and everyone was coated in oil which mercifully did not ignite. From the time of the first explosion to the final plunge of the “Eclipse” was 1½ minutes – 1½ minutes of hell.<
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  I was not alone in the water however, as all around I could hear the most pitiful cries for help …

  I swam around endeavouring to contact someone – when someone shouted I would swim in that direction but would find nothing. After several such fruitless efforts I decided that I was wasting my time and strength and the only thing to do was to try and make the Turkish coast on my own. In the distance I could see a light and taking a rough bearing by the stars to avoid swimming round in circles I began slowly to make my way towards it. After about quarter of an hour had gone by I heard a shout close by and on investigation found a fellow supported by a couple of oars. I explained to him what I was attempting and we agreed to continue together. Accordingly he went to the front of the oars and put the blades beneath his armpits whilst I went to the rear and endeavoured to steer, and thus swimming with our legs only we continued.31

  After responding to the distress signal transmitted by Petard, ML 337 was en route to Turkish waters with survivors, including the commanding officer of the Buffs, Lieutenant Colonel Douglas P. Iggulden. Lukehurst and his companion had been in the water for four and a half hours when the launch appeared behind them. As a result of their desperate cries, a searchlight was turned on to guide the pair: