The training evolutions came to a climax when Trentonian sailed for Larne and commenced two days of battle training on May 18. This entailed a mock escort of a convoy under all battle conditions. It was two days of continuous action stations, drills, attacks, and anti-aircraft and submarine sweeps.[26]
Trentonian returned to Londonderry on the morning of May 20, taking on fuel at Moville along the way. While fuelling, Signalman Jack Harold recalls that a number of “bum boats” came out to the ship from the Irish Free State side of the river and came alongside, trying to sell their merchandise to the crew. They were peddling all sorts of contraband like silk stockings, booze, and chocolate. Harold bought a bottle of what he was told was Irish whiskey. Later, when they drank it, the taste was horrible and he developed a rash and became itchy all over.[27]
When fuelling was complete, the bum boats were chased away and Trentonian let go of the lines securing it to the oiler. Harrison ordered slow ahead. The after wire had not been taken up, however, and it promptly wrapped around Trentonian’s screw, fouling it. Unable to remove the wire, Trentonian was towed to the dock in Londonderry. Later, a hard-hat diver was brought to dive under the ship and cut the wire away.[28]
After an eleven-day ocean crossing and twenty days of training evolutions, the crew was finally given shore leave in Londonderry. Half the crew was given the evening to run about town, starting with the men that did not get leave before leaving Halifax.
Stoker Bruce Keir (left) and AB Weldon Runtz in their number one uniforms, ready for leave in Londonderry.
Photo credit: A. Singleton, courtesy of Bruce Keir.
Telegraphist Tom Farrell recalls how Able Seaman Eric Muff of Toronto, Ontario, Coder Phil Kevins of Verdun, Quebec, and he went to the local pubs. Muff was a real character and kept everyone amused by reciting poems by Robert Service, and Kevins had a wonderful voice and could sing Irish ballads. Farrell emceed and the impromptu shows earned them free beers. They later repeated the performance in each port Trentonian visited.[29]
The antics were not limited to the men. Two of the officers — the anti-submarine officer, Lt. Dodds, and navigator, Lt. Parre — were standing on the dock together waiting for a cab to arrive to start their shore leave. On a whim, Parre grabbed Dodds cap, tucked it under his arm like a football, and started down the jetty. Dodds, running behind him, quickly made up the distance and tackled the navigator, sending both officers crashing onto the jetty. A horrendous sound that Signalman Jack Harold described as a “crack that was heard around the fleet” erupted from the two officers.[30] Lieutenant Parre’s femur had broken! The gut-wrenching sound of the largest bone in the body breaking was followed with a scream that was heard throughout Trentonian and that brought the men to the rails to see what was happening. They all watched as an ambulance was summoned and Trentonian’s navigating officer was taken to hospital.
What happened next shocked the crew even more. Lieutenant Dodds was immediately sent for by the skipper. This was expected, but once in Lt. Harrison’s cabin, the entire crew could hear the berating the young lieutenant was receiving through the closed door. They had never seen or heard their normally calm commanding officer like this. Not once could the young officer be heard defending himself, though the crew could hear phrases like “this childish act has now endangered the ship and the men.”[31]
The next day, May 21, a new navigating officer reported aboard, Lt. John K. Macbeth, RCNVR, from British Columbia. He immediately reported to the XO and then to Harrison. Once with the skipper, the two officers barely left Harrison’s cabin the rest of the day.[32]
Macbeth had been a student at Queen’s University when he joined the RCN at Cataraqui in Kingston. He had spent almost two years serving in corvettes Eyebright and Summerside before being assigned to the newly formed Canadian Beach Commando Unit. Due to an injury in a training accident, he was no longer able to serve on the beach. Still fit for sea duty, Macbeth was transferred to Trentonian as a temporary replacement for the injured navigating officer.
It did not take long for stories to circulate about the new officer. Apparently, a year earlier he had been disciplined for misappropriation of equipment when he and two other officers took a landing craft on a thirty-six hour joy ride on New Year’s Eve. At the court martial, Macbeth received six months loss of seniority and a severe reprimand. After the proceedings, the president of the court brought Macbeth a double rum in the club — despite his wrongdoing, Macbeth had demonstrated exceptional skill by successfully evading the multitude of craft sent to search for and intercept him.
With shore leave complete, Trentonian proceeded out of Londonderry on May 23 for Oban, Scotland.[33] The skipper announced to the crew that they were on their way to pick up their first convoy in English waters. The ship was to remain with the Western Approaches Command, assigned to Greenock, Scotland.
They arrived in Oban the same day. As the ship entered the harbour approaches, the crew watched as they passed the lush green hillsides of Scotland and the ruins of an ancient castle. Trentonian anchored in the harbour and remained at immediate notice for steam. The ship was to act as an anti-aircraft picket for the other boats assembling in harbour. The crew was informed there would be no shore leave; no one was allowed off the ship except for duty reasons.
While in Oban, a boat regularly came alongside Trentonian with a signal, envelope, or parcel for the skipper. Lieutenant Harrison would sign for these personally and send replies as required. Harrison spent most of the time in his cabin; the crew saw very little of the old man, or of the new navigating officer.
Oban harbour was very busy and was filled with a large number of old ships, including some Royal Navy ships from the First World War and earlier. The crew identified the battleship HMS Centurion, commissioned in May 1913. Centurion, along with the old cruiser HMS Durbam and the Royal Netherlands cruiser HNLMS Sumatra, had been stripped and reduced to floating hulks, as had many old merchant ships.
While in the harbour, a few of the crew were required to go ashore. Signalman Jack Harold was sent to take some signals for the navigator to the local navy headquarters and Leading Steward Roy Evans needed to wash the officers’ laundry as the washing machine from the city of Trenton had not yet caught up to the ship. The load was quite large and Evans received permission to take someone with him. Able Seaman George Hayward went along and all three were given strict instructions; they were not to tell anyone which ship they were from, where they had come from, or where they were sailing to. If anyone asked where they were going, they were to reply, “We are going to the laundry” — nothing more. They were to complete their duties and take the morning harbour boat back to the ship.[34]
Unfortunately — or conveniently — the sailors missed the early boat back to the ship and had to wait several hours for the next one. The three enjoyed lunch at the local hotel and went for a stroll through the lush green countryside, eventually finding the old castle they had passed earlier. The trio climbed the castle ruins, using a lead cable to assist themselves up onto the walls. They were berated by a thickly accented Scotsman when they climbed down for possibly damaging the electrical cable to the aircraft warning light high up on the castle walls.[35]
Before departing Londonderry on May 23, 1944, Trentonian took on a full load of ammunition. Piled like cord wood, the rounds were temporarily stored by the gunners in the ready-use lockers on the forward gun deck. The remainder went below to the four-inch magazine.
Photo credit: A. Singleton, courtesy of Bruce Keir.
Harrison was able to send a letter to Hazel Farley giving a progress report of the ship and crew.
Your letter of April 22 unfortunately didn’t arrive at Halifax in time but we eventually received it. All wish me to thank you once again for your good wishes.
We have no more pictures of the ship’s company onboard, but I have today written to the photographer, Mr Hayward, 11 Buckingham St. Halifax. I have asked him to forward six copies so you should receive them soon after this
letter.
It was very good of you to go to so much trouble about the victrola but I’m afraid like a lot of other things, we shall have to “wait and see” before we can tell you when and where to send it.
I’m sure both yourself and the pupils will soon be starting to look forward to your summer holidays after a term of hard work. Time certainly has flown since the Trentonian left Kingston and winter is now a thing of the past.
We have not had many changes here. The Navigating Officer, Paul Parre, who I think was on the ship the day that you were, had the misfortune to break his leg a couple of weeks ago. So we left him behind in a U.K. port. His leg is doing well and will be quite alright again shortly.
Otherwise the crew is the same as on the picture. They have been conducting themselves very well indeed and their ship is gaining quite a good name in all the ports we call at, in consequence, they have lots to grumble about so are perfectly happy. A good old “growl” is a great pastime and gives them something in common.
Well, I hope we still stick together. I’d like to bring everybody back to Canada that left with us and I am sure that we will manage it.
My warmest regards to all the teachers and pupils.[36]
The last paragraph of Harrison’s letter sheds a clue to the anticipated dangers involved in their next job and his concern for his men.
On May 29, the crew had a reprieve from the boredom of being confined to the ship; Stoker Bruce Keir had his twentieth birthday and the crew held a party to celebrate. When an opportunity for celebration arose, the men would take it on themselves to share their daily grog ration with the celebrator. For truly important events, or for very close shipmates, they might give away their entire ration or maybe choose to give gulps or sippers — these terms are almost self-explanatory, being a gulp or a sip of a ration — for the celebration. The rum for the grog was very thick and well above the regular 40 percent alcohol, so even sippers from a large group of shipmates could have some very effective results.[37]
Lt. Harrison (left) on Trentonian’s bridge with the new navigation officer, Lt. John Macbeth.
Photo credit: A. Singleton, courtesy of Tom Farrell.
As the men learned their respective trades, the young ordinary seaman would be promoted to the rank of able seaman. Ordinary Seaman Harold Salmon recalls the day he was told to report to the commanding officer’s cabin. Not knowing why he was called, the young sailor knocked on the skipper’s door and was told to enter. Lieutenant Harrison looked up at Salmon as he stood at attention and then informed him, “Congratulations, you have been promoted to Able Seaman.” The skipper shook his hand and sent the sailor on his way. News and rumours travel fast in a ship, for outside of the skipper’s cabin was the leading seaman who had ordered Salmon to the masthead in Bermuda. In his hand were a paint brush and a can of paint. The LS thrust the items into Salmon’s hands and quietly pointed aloft.[38]
The harbour at Oban continued to fill with ships. They were mostly old, worn-out merchant and warships, stripped of guns and fittings. On May 31, Trentonian’s crew was ordered to stations for leaving harbour. The ship was to sail with its first convoy in English waters.[39] Lieutenant Harrison was the senior officer of the escort force now assembled in Oban and Trentonian was joined by Mayflower, Drumheller, Rimouski, and its old chummy ship from Halifax, Lindsay. The escort was also joined by the RN corvette HMS Nasturtium.
The escort ships left the harbour first, sweeping the approaches for submarines with asdic, while the ships of the convoy came out of the harbour and took up their positions one at a time. Suddenly, one of the lookouts called out and the crew watched as the black steel hull of a submarine surfaced almost beside Trentonian.[40] There was no time to close up to action stations, but as the submarine broke the surface it was immediately identified as a Royal Navy submarine. The submarine’s skipper knew with all the asdic activity and a convoy forming above, his submarine was better off on the surface than being an unidentified asdic contact, open for attack.
AB W. Becker takes the time to work on his art. The painting is a scene of a sister corvette on the North Atlantic. AB Harold Salmon liked the painting, so Becker gave it to him and at Salmon’s request changed the pennant number on the side to Trentonian’s K368.
Photo courtesy Directorate of Naval History and Heritage, neg. JT-456.
Sixty ships of all types made up Trentonian’s convoy.[41] As had been suspected, the convoy was made up of the old ships in the harbour that the crew of Trentonian described as old derelicts, rust buckets not fit to float, and scrap heaps that must have been dredged up from the previous war. Slowly the convoy made its way south and into the Irish Sea.
The convoy continued on a course to the south, Trentonian’s crew not knowing their destination, at the grand speed of five knots. The waters around Great Britain were extremely busy and the convoy passed several others making their way between ports. On June 3, 1944, as the convoy left the Irish Sea, Signalman Jack Harold heard a tremendous roar from the deck above his mess followed by an explosion away from the ship. As the men rushed out onto the deck to see what was happening, they found the skipper had ordered the hedgehog fired and the mortars had exploded on the ocean bottom. The hedgehog was not to be reloaded.
As the convoy rounded Land’s End and headed into the English Channel, they were passed by two battle fleets — one British and one American — and three separate flotillas of fast destroyers. Signalman Jack Harold remarked, “One cannot help but feel a thrill, indescribable at seeing such a magnificent display of Allied naval power.”[42] Despite the excitement of passing the grand battleships, sleek cruisers, fast destroyers, and aircraft of all types flying overhead, Trentonian and the convoy continued on their course at five knots.
On June 4, Signalman Jack Harold brought a message to Harrison from Allied Naval Command Expeditionary Force (ANCXF). It simply read, “exercise postponed twenty-four hours, and anchor in Poole Bay.”[43] The skipper ordered the course change and the convoy headed towards Poole Bay.
The next day, June 5, 1944, Lt. Harrison called the crew together and informed them what they were about to do. The invasion of Europe was less than twenty-four hours away and Trentonian was going to the beachhead.
Signalman Jack Harold, reflecting on what the skipper told them, decided to keep a diary. His first entry is as follows:
The Old Man called the crew together for a “pep talk” on what is about to happen. I am going to have a ringside seat to the biggest thing in warfare that man has ever conceived or attempted. We are now in the English Channel, shepherding our convoy like a big wandering flock of sheep under the watchful eye of British fighter and bomber aircraft. This strip of water will in a day or two without a doubt become the hottest spot on earth. And I shall be at the very vortex of this man-made hell! In case I do not survive perhaps someday someone will say, “He died doing his duty!” It has been estimated that 85% of the men taking part in this invasion will not come out of it. Well everyone is hoping that he will be one of the 15% left but also resolved to go down fighting if he is not.[44]
This odd assortment of derelict ships led to a great amount of speculation amongst the crew as to why these ships were so important that they needed to be escorted by Trentonian and the crew confined to the ship.
Photo credit: A. Singleton, courtesy of Bruce Keir.
6: The Invasion
Apart from fierce fires started by the shelling and the bombing, the French country side looks very peaceful and beautiful. In peacetime I would have loved to have come here and spent a holiday.
— Able Seaman Jack Harold, RCNVR, signalman, HMCS Trentonian
The crew listened to Lt. Harrison intently as he explained: this was the invasion of Fortress Europe, the operation was called Overlord and the naval portion Operation Neptune.
Operation Overlord was a five division frontal assault from landing ships and landing craft that was to take place off Normandy in the Bay of Seine, between the eastern shore of the Cote
ntin Peninsula and a point east of the River Orne and west of Le Havre. Operation Neptune was to secure a lodgement in France from which further offensive operations could be developed.[1]
The initial objectives of the assault were the isolation of the Cotentin Peninsula, so that the French port of Cherbourg could be attacked from the rear, and the capture of the French towns of Carentan, Isigny, Bayeaux, and Caen.[2]
Trentonian was to take their convoy to the heart of the invasion area. Lieutenant Harrison explained that the greatest threat now was from German mines, E-boats, and aircraft — the chances of U-boats getting through the defences were minimal.
The crew now worked on a two-watch system. Half the crew was closed up at their stations at all times, while the other half ate or slept. This was done in four hour shifts — on duty for four hours and off for four hours. The advantage of this system was that the ship was ready to come to immediate action and each sailor was not worked for long periods. However, the down time was equally short so there was little opportunity for rest or proper sleep.
Harrison ordered all ready-use mortars for the hedgehog stored in the magazine below. If Trentonian was hit by a bomb, he did not want high explosives on deck.
White Ensign Flying Page 8
