Alarm Starboard!: A Remarkable True Story of the War at Sea
Page 13
After a hilarious crossing-the-line ceremony, during which most of the officers, from the Commander down, were daubed in chocolate (that had gone bad in the canteen), whitewashed and ducked, the Prince of Wales duly arrived at Cape Town with its enormous flat-topped backdrop that is Table Mountain. We were given a wonderful reception. Officers were entertained privately, functions arranged for the men and an orgy of shopping indulged in. A surprise visitor was my cousin John Tothill; now a Commander, he was refitting his destroyer Janus following an action with some Vichy French ships off Syria. They used dye in their shells which sent up different coloured splashes, useful for spotting, and the Janus received several hits, one on the bridge. The Engineer Officer, who told me this, went up to report the engines out of action, and on reaching the top of the bridge ladder was aghast at the sight, everyone casualties except the Captain who was standing at the binnacle, lurid red and green all over. The red was other peoples’ blood and the green (which took weeks to get out of his beard) the dye. Apparently he was completely unruffled and chatted to the EO (who was not), as if it was all an exercise. Years later he. Cousin John, told me that his mother had given him a St Christopher on a chain and he had just hung it on the Captain’s chair when the shell struck.
A day or two out of Cape Town we became suddenly aware of a close air escort on our starboard quarter. A number of huge albatrosses came within yards to glide uncannily along beside the quarterdeck, with no visible signs of life except the blink of a yellow eye as they returned our interested stares. Ever since the Ancient Mariner the albatross has been a bird of ill-omen, but I do not think anyone worried. The ten-day passage to Colombo, broken by brief stops for fuel at Mauritius and Addu Attol, was pleasantly uneventful. I did a large sketch, for eventual water-colouring, from well aft, taking a lot of trouble with the difficult perspective of ‘Y’ turret, the after superstructure tipped with ‘my’ 14-inch director, the 5.25-inch batteries and so on. It went rather well; a shame it never got beyond the pencil stage.
HMS Repulse was already at Trincomalee, the naval harbour on the east coast of Ceylon, when we arrived at Colombo on November 28. A graceful if elderly half sister to the Hood, she had six 15-inch guns (only one turret aft instead of the latter’s two) and had been very little modernised since the early 1920s. As a battlecruiser she was much more lightly armoured than the Prince of Wales but had the same top speed of about 29 knots. Her Captain, Bill Tennant of Dunkirk, was senior to Captain Leach and when Admiral Phillips, who had just been promoted to full Admiral, flew straight on to Singapore to confer with the authorities there (including Admiral Sir Geoffrey Layton, C-in-C China, whom he was to relieve), the Repulse, after rendezvousing south of Ceylon, led us on the final leg of our five-week voyage. In an oppressive, damp heat, quite different from the drier atmosphere of India, the squadron had Singapore in sight to port—a distant smudge to the east—about noon on Tuesday, December 2 1941.
With only the sketchiest knowledge of the area I studied the charts with interest. Indo-China (now Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos) recently delivered, to all intents and purposes, by the French to the Japanese, ran down opposite the north part of the Malay Peninsula—from which it was separated by the Gulf of Siam—to end in a huge, blunt point. This was only about 160 miles across the sea from Kota Bharu, a place just inside the Malayan border with Siam. Singapore Island, I saw, was about the size and shape of the Isle of Wight, with Singapore City in the middle of the south coast. The naval base, opposite it on the north coast, was approached via the Strait of Johore which separated the island from the mainland by amounts varying between a half and two or more miles.
Having passed Singapore, which sprawls along a considerable frontage, the two ships steered in for the easterly mouth of this Strait and were soon steaming up the gently winding channel. The naval dockyard opened up eventually after a turn to port and the Prince of Wales secured alongside. As various VIPs flowed up the brow, the Repulse came to a buoy nearby and Force Z, as the two ships and their destroyers were now known, had arrived.
Introduction to the tropics had dealt the Gunroom beer supply a crippling blow and one of my first duties was to order 120 dozen. We had not seen a lot of Repulse before, and there was naturally much inter-ship visiting. My opposite number was a fair-haired, lively little Sub called Pool who told me that he had got into the Captain’s bad books by constantly volunteering for Motor Torpedo Boats (hardly a ploy likely to commend itself to the CO of a capital ship!) There had also been a spot of bother at Durban over some of the Midshipmen bathing with girls in the nude, though it was at a private bath and Pool himself was not involved.
The newspapers and radio were full of the arrival of the squadron, described as ‘HMS Prince of Wales and other heavy units’. Presumably to mention the 25-year-old Repulse would be a bit of a come-down. The ‘Daily Mirror Ship’ was in the limelight again and we felt very bad about it. I have read that there was some rivalry and bad feeling ashore between the two ships, which is nonsense. Apart from this publicity there was no cause and in fact no time for such a thing to develop, beyond the odd individual case that often arises.
The unfortunate engine room department got down to boiler cleaning, having been denied the expected opportunity at Cape Town. The Commander (E) is on record as having to give the Captain a ‘friendly ultimatum’ on the subject.
The next day three or four of us took a taxi the 20-odd miles to Singapore. As we drove, fascinated, through kampongs (villages) scattering chickens and children, usually Malay but sometimes Chinese or very dark skinned Tamils, we gasped at the colours. To start with the road wound about, often among strange trees that threw deep shadows; nearer the city some of the gardens were breathtaking and all the time a bright blue sky provided a literally dazzling back-cloth. In a backhanded way even the damp heat, which I found very oppressive with my shirt sticking close back and front, came up to scratch. This was a beautiful place where everything seemed to be bursting with ripeness. But as we found ourselves on the outskirts of Singapore, among rambling stone and wood buildings, often built over the pavements so that arched and pillared walkways shielded the jostling pedestrians from the sun, a dreadful unspoken query, so far overshadowed by the unfolding scene, became real. Where on earth were the fortifications? We had travelled the full depth of the island and not seen one military mite. So much had been heard about ‘Fortress Singapore’—put out with extra intensity of late—that we expected Maginot-like emplacements, barbed wire, cleared fields of fire and so on. There was absolutely nothing and the shock was great.
As we downed stingahs (whiskies and soda) at the elegant Raffles hotel and then wandered among the fine buildings in the heart of Singapore, I at any rate could not shake off a feeling of unease. But the Americans were at this moment engaged in diplomatic discussions with the Japanese and surely something sensible would be worked out. It was not to be. On December 5 a large Jap troop convoy, with powerful escort, was sighted off the south-west point of Indo-China, steering for the Gulf of Siam and the Repulse, which had sailed for Port Darwin to show the flag in Australia, was recalled.
The 7th was a Sunday. The Admiral returned from a conference with the Americans at Manila, but—at least from a Gunroom viewpoint-nothing else happened. The Prince of Wales had been moved into dry dock for a quick scrape of her bottom. (This was, of course, to remove speed-reducing weed but was to prove helpful to many of her people in a way none could have dreamed of.) The immediate effect, sitting as we were in a reflecting cauldron of baking concrete, was of terrific, damp, enervating heat*. The engine room department was already having serious problems concerning the heat, but fortunately this was no concern of mine. One yearned for the self-made breeze of a ship under way. It was not long in coming.
Sleep was brutally rent in the early hours of the 8th by the urgent bugle call ‘Alarm to Arms’ and the dry ‘Hands to repel aircraft stations—Hands to repel aircraft stations’, not entirely successful in excluding a tremor of excitement
, set cabins and messdecks disgorging humanity like ants from an upturned stone. Overshadowing both the effort to banish sleep and the physical struggle into an overall suit, was the grim realisation that this was war with the Japanese all right. I fought my way up to the ADP to find the night surprisingly cod. The moonlight picked out those in white uniforms like ghosts, tin hats pushed back and eyes on the sky. The drone of planes was overhead. Very high, they were on their way to bomb Singapore and I think it was on their return that we opened up with the 5.25s, such guns firing from a ship in dry dock being probably unique. A Bofors somewhere let go optimistically, the graceful parabola of its tracer shells falling far short of the little silver crosses that were plain in the searchlight beams. Continuing unimpeded to their Indo-China airfield, they must have passed near the Japanese transports that had been landing troops successfully at Kota Bharu in the north for two or three hours. (Offered stiff resistance at first from raw Indian soldiers, the enemy had prevailed and were to press on to take the all-important local airfield before the day was out.)
Breakfast was a sombre meal. News had just come in of a devastating carrier-borne attack on Pearl Harbor, the main US Pacific base, which seemed to have caught the Americans completely by surprise. Hong Kong too was under heavy attack and the Philippines, Guam, Midway and Wake. Nearer home the Japanese were also landing at several points in Siam, notably Singora, just north of the border. When more details were known about Pearl Harbor it was clear that the US Pacific Fleet had suffered heavily. The balance of naval power in our hemisphere had plummeted towards the Japs overnight, the implications of which were incalculable. In command of the sea, they could spread unchecked, and then what of Australia, or India? Not only was this shattering, but the ruthless efficiency with which it had been effected struck chill. The declaration of war on Japan went almost unnoticed.
Steam had, of course, been ordered for full speed but some boilers were still open for cleaning and, in fact, the last pair were not connected until after the ship sailed.
Back alongside the wall there was much coming and going. The most poignant meeting must have been that between Admiral Phillips, the Commanding Officers of the Prince of Wales and Repulse, and the destroyer Captains of the force. The Admiral said he considered that, given fighter support and the element of surprise, there was a reasonable chance of at least preventing reinforcement of the enemy and cutting the communications of those already ashore. In any case we could not remain inactive while the enemy continued to land. He asked for comment and apparently Bill Tennant replied for the meeting that there was no alternative.
Again these sombre sentiments were not aired to the rank and file and when we sailed it was with a tingle of anticipation rather than anything else. Force Z slipped and proceeded at 17:35, retracing its steps to the open sea. The big ships then turned on to a north-easterly course and the destroyers took up their positions ahead. There were now four of them, our faithful ‘Es’—Electra and Express—being augmented by the veterans Vampire and Tenedos from the local flotilla. The Chief of Staff had been left ashore at the combined HQ, and about 100 miles had been put between Singapore and the Force when a signal of the utmost importance was received from him. It said ‘Fighter protection on Wednesday 10th will not, repeat not, be possible’.
The absence of air cover when out of range of Singapore fighters—about 500 miles—took away the main prop of Admiral Phillips’ assertion that the operation was feasible. Nevertheless, because it was impossible for the Navy to remain inactive, he had no option but to press on and on the morning of the 9th put out an unvarnished description of the state of affairs:
Force Z from C in C. The enemy has made several landings on the north coast of Malaya and has made local progress. Our army is not large and is hard pressed in places. Our air force has had to destroy and abandon one or more aerodromes. Meanwhile fast transports lie off the coast. This is our opportunity before the enemy can establish himself We have made a wide circuit to avoid air reconnaissance and hope to surprise the enemy shortly after sunrise tomorrow, Wednesday. We may have the luck to try our metal against the old Japanese battlecruiser Kongo or against some Japanese cruisers and destroyers which are reported in the Gulf of Siam. We are sure to get some useful practice with the HA armament. Whatever we meet I want to finish quickly and so get well clear to the eastward before the Japanese can mass too formidable a scale of an attack against us. So shoot to sink!
With our present desire for concealment the weather on the morning of the 9th was ideal—low cloud, intermittent rain and generally poor visibility. Having left the Anambas to port at breakfast time course was set northwards preparatory to a run into Singora and by 17:00 we were 170 miles from the southern tip of Indo-China (and near the latitude of Kota Bharu, where the other main landing had taken place). Half an hour later the visibility suddenly improved and to our consternation there was a plane on the horizon, soon joined by another and then another. They hung about maddeningly, obviously reporting our every detail to the Japanese fleet that was certainly covering Singora. The advantage of surprise had gone the way of our air cover.
By this time Tenedos had come to the limit of her fuel endurance and as dark closed in was detached to return to Singapore. At 19:00 the bridge signal lanterns flashed for an alteration of course (to a little north of west) and an increase of speed to 26 knots. The dash to Singora had begun. Shortly afterwards Electra sighted a flare in the sky some miles ahead, but nothing further transpired. The dash to Singora was shortlived. By 20:15 Force Z was swinging round to south-east, the exact reciprocal of the morning’s heading, with speed reduced to conserve fuel. The operation had been cancelled—causing general disappointment—and we were returning whence we had come. Whether the Admiral started the western move as a feint I do not know, but not long after turning back he received a reminder from Admiral Palliser that must have confirmed his decision—‘Enemy bombers on S. Indo-China aerodromes are in force and undisturbed. They could attack you five hours after sighting and much depends on whether you have been seen today’. He added that there might be carrier planes in the area (in fact our discoverers were from cruisers).
At midnight another signal was received from Palliser ‘Enemy reported landing Kuantan, lat. 3° 5°N’. Kuantan was in a southwesterly direction about 180 miles off. For various reasons it was a likely place for the Japanese to land; Admiral Phillips ordered course to be altered for Kuantan and speed increased. So another dash was on, continuing for the rest of the night.
Action stations were sounded off early the next morning and we settled down to see what daylight would bring. I had with me in the after director a small canvas action bag with essentials in it, rubber life-jacket (which I should have been wearing but found too hot), first aid items and so on. Daylight brought nothing; for the second time in 24 hours there was an anti-climax. Our Walrus was catapulted to search but still saw nothing and was told to return to Singapore. By 08:00 Force Z was right off Kuantan and the Express was sent in to have a close look too. ‘AH is as quite as a wet Sunday afternoon’ she reported. It was a calm, grey morning with the sun behind the clouds, but not low, rain clouds as on most of the previous day. Visibility was good and later the sun was out more often than not. We trained the director on to the distant land and I had a good look through the powerful binoculars. It was greatly tree-covered, a long line of variegated greeny-grey.
A southerly course was resumed that would have kept roughly parallel to the coast, but soon after Repulse had catapulted her Walrus for anti-submarine patrol, we turned back north-east to investigate some barges seen earlier but by-passed. At 09:50 Tenedos, who had almost reached the latitude of Singapore (but was still well to the east to avoid possible minefields) reported that she was being bombed. This was a most unpleasant turn of events as she was considered to be at the very limit of the enemy’s range. The barges were left to themselves, a southwesterly course resumed and speed increased to twenty-five knots. Shortly after, it was just b
efore 11:00, an aircraft was picked up on the radar at maximum range. It stayed there, presumably watching us and then there were more echoes, closing rapidly at considerable height, fine on the starboard bow.
By this time we were at Repel Aircraft Stations, which found me on the Air Defence Position (ADP) as usual. The Repulse was on our starboard quarter at four cables (800 yards), her rakish bow carving majestically through the water and a long white road streaming out astern. One destroyer was ahead and another on each bow. The day was warming up to a sticky heat and the Prince of Wales was vibrating to the few knots less than her maximum. A temperature of 136° had just been recorded in the boiler rooms, with several stokers collapsing, and one felt uneasily comfortable on the ADP, basking in the man made breeze of some 30m.p.h. However, any contentment was short lived as the lookouts began to yell and one saw them plainly, eight or nine twin-engined plump looking bombers high up ahead.
On went anti-flash gear and tin hat, to start sweat oozing and running into every fleshy crevice. Our forward 5.25s crashed out, quickly followed by the Repulse’s 4-inch. Seconds later the 5.25s again as the first shells began to wink among their quarry and spatter them with black puffs of T.N.T. The enemy came on steadily, beginning what appeared to be a run on the Repulse. I watched their relentless advance with grudging admiration; some shell bursts were close enough but the formation remained tight. We altered course to starboard and then back to port. They were overhead when the Repulse all but disappeared in a forest of fountains that rose up around her. As the water subsided, brown smoke billowed out from somewhere amidships. With a hollow feeling one realised she had been hit. But she kept on, apparently little the worse. The bombers, now making off, had kept high throughout—about 10,000 feet—and were certainly most competent.