by Ian Dear
1455: towing resumed to westward. Wind and sea still subsiding. If the unit had been seaworthy it could probably have been towed wherever ordered. Proceeded towards Barry.
1555: HM minesweeper Inverforth joined.
1600: Hudson closed tow and took off one of her crew who had been left on board for some reason, also Hesperia’s officer.
1633: Closed Hudson, lowered whaler and transferred Hesperia’s officer to Trentonian.
1710: Unit took a list of about fifteen degrees and commenced to settle in water. Towing was stopped as phoenix was obviously filling up rapidly and appeared to be on the point of sinking. List increased slowly.
1720: closed phoenix to take off crew. Inverforth proceeding alongside and Trentonian’s whaler standing by.
1725: Inverforth alongside, took off eight men but was obliged to go ahead as unit was still listing away from her.
1726: Inverforth fouled both tow lines and appeared to be in a very precarious position as unit was still listing and settling in water.
1727: Both towlines slipped and Inverforth cleared.
1728: Remaining two men taken off unit by Trentonian’s whaler and brought on board. Senior rating reported large hole about six feet in diameter in unit. Nothing could be seen of hole above water.
1745: Unit stopped listing, lying at an angle of about sixty degrees with portion of underside visible. It appeared that with displacement being increased by the leak, the unit would founder when it sank low enough to bring the apertures on the lower side of the top deck under water.
2020: One aperture on top deck below water. Trentonian proceeded towards Barry in accordance with orders, leaving Inverforth to mark wreck with Dan buoys when sunk.
2105: Saucy reported by R/T that phoenix had sunk.21
Operations on the Far Shore
Reports by the rescue tugs during Operation neptune came from two sources.22 A standard single-page one, written by a boarding officer after a rescue tug had returned to Lee-on Solent, gave details of each completed passage. It included such data as the speed, state of tow, state of equipment, arrival and departure times and dates, what if anything was towed back, and whether the rescue tug was still serviceable. When necessary, the commanding officers wrote longer reports, on rescues, the loss of tows, and so on.
Superman, commanded by Lt Edwin ‘Tubby’ Turner RNR, was assigned for general duties after she had finished helping to tow parts of the mulberries. One of her crew, Bertie Neilson, later wrote:
On several occasions we were detailed to assist some rocket-firing landing craft. These shallow drafted vessels had difficulty in taking aim if the wind was too strong and our job was to steady them while they supported our army units at Ouistreham.23
Superman was also employed in her proper role as a rescue tug, and on one occasion was sent to assist a Royal Navy sloop, which had been badly damaged by German batteries near juno beach, and was drifting inshore:
We connected up and lashed alongside and started to tow her seawards under fire from the shore battery, which straddled us until we finally got out of range but not before we had been holed at the waterline and were making water.
We managed to deliver the damaged sloop to the juno beach anchorage and, following a thorough inspection, it was decided to beach Superman on the next falling tide. This was successfully accomplished and a repair effected by Engineer Paddy Murphy and helpers by welding a section from an engine room door over the shell hole. They did a first class job which, I am told, lasted many months until her next refit.23
While on rescue tug duty, Superman spent twenty-four hours at Arromanches and twenty-four hours at one of the gooseberries at immediate notice to steam. On 19 August she went to the assistance of the 7271-ton SS Harpagus,24 which had hit a mine off Arromanches, but shortly after commencing to tow, the fore part of the ship started to sink. Superman cast off and began towing the ship by her stern, and managed to take her to a safe anchorage. But early in the morning of 21 August, Turner received a signal that the casualty’s after part was also sinking. So Superman connected to Harpagus again, and beached her four cables west of mulberry b. This must have taken some doing as it was blowing a near gale (force 7) at the time.
Three days later, Superman went to the assistance of the new 2370-ton cargo ship SS Empire Roseberry, which had been mined 2 miles north-east of Ouistreham, killing ten of the crew and two gunners. Superman picked up survivors, but the ship sank shortly afterwards. Then on 6 September, she took the remains of Harpagus back across the Channel. Turner concluded his report:
Put her to anchor at midnight 7 September four miles north of Nab Tower. At 0930/8 September reconnected and proceeded for Southampton, berthing her at Town Quay at 2030/8 September. Thence tug proceeded to Lee, going to anchor at 0925. Superman needs B/C (boiler cleaning) – date of last clean 1st May.22
The experimental minesweeper and other assignments
For his contribution to the success of the landings, Turner was awarded the DSC, one of four commanding officers in the Rescue Tug Service to be given this decoration for their services during neptune.25 Another recipient was Lt CW Stanford RNR, who commanded the Assurance class Griper, which assisted an LCT drifting helplessly in heavy seas, an incident that was later described in Lloyd’s List and Shipping Gazette:
When the Griper arrived at the spot indicated by signals, there was no LCT to be seen, but by groping about in the gale for some time the tug found the stricken craft 11 miles away.
‘Getting the tow line aboard was a problem calling for all the seamanship we knew,’ said the Griper’s Commanding Officer. ‘It was dark and the LCT was tossing about like a cork. With our second attempt we made a successful hook-up and we steamed into the gale for home. For three and a half hours we couldn’t make more than two knots. Then our boiler engine fan broke down, reducing our power so that we were barely holding our own against wind and tide. For two and a half hours we managed to hold our course, and then, the tide changing, we made better progress. After eight anxious hours, with the constant threat of the tow parting in the heavy seas, we brought the LCT into sheltered water. Although such jobs are part of the routine of the Rescue Tug Service, it was nice to hear the Commanding Officer of the LCT say that the connecting-up operation was the finest exhibition of seamanship he had seen under such conditions.’
This was the second LCT that the Griper had rescued recently. Soon after the Allied landings in Normandy she went to the assistance of an LCT drifting helplessly into an enemy minefield, and brought her safely through heavy seas to harbour.26
One of Griper’s assignments was not so successful, but as everyone in the Rescue Tug Service knew very well, you couldn’t win them all. On 24 November 1944, she and Jaunty were assigned the task of towing to the Far Shore a crewless 3980-ton experimental minesweeper HMS Cyrus. Launched the previous January, this top-secret trimaran had its three hulls held together with steel lattice trusses, so that if a pressure mine was detonated, the resulting blast would pass harmlessly right through the hull. It was steered by remote control from another vessel over suspected minefields.
As with most new experiments, the operation did not end well. It commenced in calm weather with the two rescue tugs towing in tandem across the Channel, but the weather soon deteriorated. The wind reached force 5–6 from the north-west, and as Cyrus was being manoeuvred on to her mooring buoy in the Seine Bay’s crowded anchorage, her remote control steering gear carried away. She immediately took a broad sheer to starboard and rammed an American LST on the port bow, and became caught in the LST’s port anchor cable. The two ships were eventually disentangled and the minesweeper was put on to her mooring.
The first sweep was carried out without any problems – and it would seem without any results – but the next day a westerly gale was blowing, and on returning from Le Havre, Griper found Cyrus adrift. Some of Griper’s crew were aboard the minesweeper to help moor her, but Stanford decided to take them off. While manoeuvring to do th
is, a wave swept Griper’s towing wire overboard and wound itself round her rudder.
With Griper’s crew struggling to clear the wire, Jaunty tried to pass a tow rope to the men on Cyrus, but was unable to do so. After what Stanford described as ‘a very fine piece of seamanship’, Jaunty’s commanding officer, Lt WS Lowrey RNR, held her close enough to Cyrus to take off the nine men aboard her, but all efforts to clear Griper’s screw failed, and Jaunty had to tow her into Le Havre where US Naval divers cleared it. But it was then found that the main engine thrust block had fractured, and Griper had to be towed back across the Channel.
Jaunty’s report made clear the impossibility of connecting up with the drifting Cyrus. ‘The weather was the worst I have experienced for many years,’ Lowrey reported22, ‘Jaunty being continually under water in the towing deck, with seas which at times enveloped the whole of that deck from the view of the navigating bridge.’ On no less than three occasions, seas swamped the navigating bridge, strained the wheelhouse’s armour-plated doors and broke the chart room door. It was not surprising that Lowrey had to conclude by reporting the stranding of the experimental minesweeper, after ‘everything possible was done to get the vessel in tow’.
This loss in no way affected the high regard with which Lowrey was held by his superiors, for in August he was recommended for a decoration, and was duly awarded the DSC. The citation read:
Lieutenant Lowrey, by his devotion to duty, promptness in carrying out his orders, and cheerful efficiency, set a fine example to his ship’s company and to the other British, Dutch and American rescue tugs with which he operated. His behaviour has been in accordance with the best traditions of the Service.
HMS Jaunty sailed for the French coast in the Assault convoy, and carried out her first rescue duties during the passage. From D-Day to the 20 July, she was employed on rescue duties off the Beaches and in the Channel, returning to UK only to tow damaged vessels. During practically the whole of this period the ship was at instant notice. The promptness with which the Commanding Officer carried out his duties was largely responsible for the saving of a number of ships and many valuable lives.
In addition to her normal rescue duties, HMS Jaunty towed many HM ships clear of mines and mined areas, sometimes under enemy shellfire.27
Another rescue tug that distinguished herself was the Mammouth. On 23 January 1945, in a strong south-easterly wind, she was escorting a dredger, TB Taylor, and two hoppers from Ouistreham to the Solent, when her commanding officer, Lt H McGregor RNR, received a signal from the dredger that she was disabled and needed a tow. McGregor wrote in his report:
This appeared impossible. The dredger was sheering wildly with her rudder jammed hard over and in addition was heeling over to port at an alarming angle. As I closed in on the dredger, we saw them launch a raft and five of her army crew jump for it. The wind and sea was increasing and as these men pulled themselves on to the raft, one was washed back into the sea. The dredger certainly appeared to be on the verge of capsizing. Her boats had been smashed, and she was making water in the engine room and her accommodation was flooding. The remaining personnel were clustered aft and under the conditions it would have been impossible to couple up. The men on board could not stand owing to the violence of her rolling. The wisest thing in my opinion was to abandon her, and if she remained afloat, which certainly appeared very unlikely, we could board her and take her in tow when the weather moderated. This I told the Officer in Charge, Captain Sessions RE [Royal Engineers]. With the first party leaving her, it was obvious that they had already decided to abandon ship. I then proceeded to pick up the man washed off the float and then the party on the raft.22
This accomplished, the Mammouth returned to the dredger. As her sea-boat would have been smashed by the heavy seas if it had been lowered, McGregor towed one of the rescue tug’s Carley floats, and manoeuvred it round the dredger’s stern. The next group of men jumped, clambered on to the Carley float, and were hauled back to the rescue tug. This process was repeated until the dredger’s entire complement of eighteen was taken aboard. All that afternoon and through the night, the Mammouth stood by, waiting for the weather to improve. When it did so, the dredger’s crew returned to their ship and helped couple her up with the rescue tug, which then took her to Southampton. McGregor concluded:
I should like to report that I was very ably assisted by my two deck officers during the whole operation and that my Engineer Officer, Sub-Lt Charles Gray RNVR, at considerable risk to himself, climbed over the side on to the ship’s belting and time after time was in danger of being pulled into the sea, as he pulled men on board, many of whom did not have the strength left to help themselves, and were only partly conscious after being in the water, some of them for over 30 minutes.22
The report was forwarded to the Director of Transportation for Twenty-first Army Group, who replied: ‘Will you please arrange to pass on our thanks and congratulations to the CO of the Mammouth and to his crew for what was undoubtedly a very gallant and courageous rescue under most difficult conditions.’22
Sesame sunk
Given the weather, the crowded Channel traffic, enemy gunfire from the shore, and attacks by enemy aircraft and E-boats, it was amazing that rescue tug casualties were so low. It was E-boats that caused the one British fatal rescue tug sinking during neptune, when in the early hours of 11 June 1944 six of them attacked Sesame, which was towing a whale pier head.28 The commanding officer ordered the gun crew to open fire, but, according to the five survivors – the commanding officer, third officer, first radio officer and two ratings – Sesame was immediately torpedoed amidships on the starboard side and sank in fifteen seconds. The rest of the crew, who were belowdecks, must have been killed at once. After being in the water for up to an hour and a half, the five survivors were helped aboard the tow and, along with its crew, were later transferred to a warship and returned to England.
The circumstances under which the demise of Sesame was discovered must have given the crew of the rescue tug Storm King a terrible shock. After delivering the phoenix she was towing to Arromanches, Storm King turned and headed for home, but came across an abandoned phoenix, which she took back to Arromanches. While returning home across the Channel for the second time, she came upon an abandoned whale pier head. ‘On boarding it,’ Joe Barnes, one of Storm King’s crew, remembered, ‘we found the tow rope to be bar tight so we knew there was a tug on the end of it.’29
In his report, the NCO in charge of Sesame’s tow wrote that at the time his crew were in the crew shelter.30 A large flash was seen, but no attention was paid to this as there had been gun fire and flares all night. However, a minute after the flash, the NCO, thinking the tow had stopped, looked out of the shelter, but all he could see was a puff of smoke ahead of the tow.
In due course, Storm King received a well-deserved congratulatory signal from C-in-C Allied Naval Expeditionary Force (ANCXF), Admiral Sir Bertram H Ramsay, for ‘consistent good work in hazardous towing and salvage operations’, which was, no doubt, also recognition of Storm King’s efforts, as described in Chapter 6, to save HMS Woodpecker earlier in the year.
Dover veterans
While the battle raged on the Far Shore, two pre-First World War vintage steam tugs, Lady Brassey and Lady Duncannon, also became involved in the fighting. Both were based at Dover and were managed by the Dover Harbour Board. The 362-ton Lady Brassey was 130 ft overall, had an ihp of 1200, about the same as the Assurance class. She was equipped for firefighting, and was listed in 1944 as a rescue tug in the lowest category, C (see Appendix), but was only armed with an Oerlikon and two Lewis guns.
Lady Duncannon was much smaller, half the gross tonnage of Lady Brassey, but both had been hired by the Admiralty in 1939, just as they had been in 1918 when Lady Brassey’s master, Captain CH Lambert, had been awarded the OBE ‘for courage and skill displaying towing cargo and other ships out of a minefield, after they had been mined’.31 They were commanded by RNR or RNVR officers, but the cre
ws were civilians, and they flew the Red Ensign. There were three crews and they took it in turn to man the two tugs, making both vessels available for rescue work twenty-four hours a day.
On 24 June 1944, Lady Brassey was ordered to assist the 2824-ton collier Empire Lough, which had been hit by German coastal batteries and set on fire some half a mile south-east of Folkestone. The collier, part of convoy ETC-17, had left Southend for the Normandy beaches to deliver supplies, including ammunition and petrol, when she was hit and abandoned by her crew. By the time Lady Brassey found her, she was drifting south-eastwards and burning fiercely from the bridge to the stern. The rescue tug’s foam firefighting appliance had little effect, and after some minutes flames began leaping to mast height, and the ammunition aboard started to explode. It soon became too dangerous to continue fighting the fire, and Lady Brassey was forced to withdraw to a safe distance.
The minesweeping trawler HMT Fyldea arrived at the scene at about the same time as Lady Brassey, and other firefighting ships now appeared, but they, too, were unable to approach the blazing ship for the area around Empire Lough was, as the trawler’s commanding officer commented in his report, like a ‘battlefield’.32 Eventually there was a lull in the explosions and both Lady Brassey and Fyldea attempted to close the collier with the intention of towing her towards the shore and beaching her. Lady Brassey’s stern was manoeuvred under the collier’s starboard bow, but was unable to connect up until Ordinary Seaman V Brockman took matters into his own hands. The rescue tug’s master, VF Nichols, later wrote:
[He] at once observed the difficult position and entirely of his own initiative, without being requested to do so by me, climbed on board the burning vessel and made the tug’s towing wire fast to the starboard bollard, after which he was taken back on board the tug, and we commenced towing the vessel towards the shore.32
