by Edwyn Gray
He could not help wondering how much longer the Colony had to enjoy its peaceful tranquility.
Hamilton stirred restlessly on the narrow bunk. After the cool chill of the air on deck, the interior of the submarine was unpleasantly stuffy and he was finding it difficult to sleep. The deck head fan made little impression on the turgid atmosphere and the wardroom reeked with the smell of stale human sweat.
Mannon was sitting on the settee looking at an old magazine and the dim glow of the reading-lamp was an irritating distraction which Hamilton could have well done without.
Damn the bloody C-in-C! Why the hell did he have to recall Rapier just when things were beginning to look interesting? And, he reminded himself, it wasn’t just pique at being deprived of his private hideaway and the cache of stores he had so carefully laid up in readiness for just such an emergency. He was quite prepared to admit that the secret base had been a crazy idea from the start - the sort of thing the hero did in a kid’s story book.
He rolled over and tried to sleep, but his brain refused to switch off and, to add to the agonies of insomnia, tiny drops of condensation from the deck head over the bunk dripped on his face with the relentless regularity of a primitive Chinese torture....
‘Sir! Wake up, sir!’
Hamilton couldn’t believe that he’d really been asleep, but apparently he had. His eyes opened and he was fully awake in an instant.
‘Murray’s picked up a broadcast from Singapore radio, sir,’ Mannon said excitedly. ‘The Japs are landing at Kota Bharu.’
Hamilton swung his legs out of the bunk and pushed his feet into the pair of plimsolls Monty had left in readiness. ‘Where the hell’s Kota Bharu, Number One!’ he grumbled irritably.
‘East coast of Malaya, sir - up near the Siam border.’
‘Is it, by God! It looks as though my hunch was right after all. Perhaps Layton knew what he was doing when he recalled us.’
He made his way through the bulkhead hatch into the control room. He had no doubts that the entire ship’s company had heard the news by now, but the men on duty gave no hint of excitement or curiosity when he appeared. They knew the skipper would tell them what he intended to do in his own good time. And, in the meantime, discipline demanded that they carried out their duties without question.
The radio compartment was situated aft of the control room and Hamilton glanced up at the clock as he entered. It was 3.55 a.m.
‘What’s this report you say you’ve picked up?’ he asked the operator brusquely.
Murray slipped off his headset and put it down on the bench alongside the radio. ‘I was searching around the medium band about five minutes ago, sir.’ He looked a little sheepish. ‘To be honest I was trying to find some late night dance music. And someone suddenly broke into the programme to say the Japs were landing.’
‘Where was this - Singapore?’
‘No, sir,’ Murray picked up a small book and pointed his finger to the top of the opened page. ‘According to the station call-sign it was Kuala Lumpur.’
‘Tune into Singapore and see what you get.’
Murray obediently twiddled the knobs and through the crackle Hamilton could hear the measured tones of the station announcer repeating instructions to the civilian population regarding blackout regulations and air raid precautions. After a few minutes, he repeated the initial news reports of the Japanese landings in the north.
Hamilton glanced at Mannon. ‘Sounds genuine enough and if Murray’s already heard similar reports from KL I’d say we’d got all the confirmation we need.’
‘Shall I call up Singapore base, sir?’ Murray asked.
‘No! Maintain strict radio silence until we know what the situation is. Keep tuned to the Admiralty transmitting station and send me a resume of the signals every fifteen minutes. But call me if you hear something urgent.’ He turned to Mannon. ‘Alistair is due off watch in a couple of minutes, Number One. Get up on the bridge and take over. I want to discuss our course with him. I’ll be up to relieve you as soon as we’ve worked something out. Then you get some shut-eye. We could have a busy day on our hands tomorrow.’
Back in the control room, Hamilton opened the small scale map of the South-East Asia area and stared down at it. Kota Bharu was approximately fourteen hundred miles away and Singapore seemed even further. Running at ten knots to conserve fuel, Rapier could not possibly arrive off the Malayan coast for at least five days and, even if he gambled on the oil supplies and steamed at maximum speed, it would take all of seventy-two hours to cover the distance. If only Layton had recalled them earlier. The presence of the two Japanese invasion convoys must have been known to the Singapore staff for some time. Surely someone could have made an intelligent guess!
He looked round as Scott came down from the bridge to join him and he moved to one side so that Rapier’s navigator could see the chart.
‘Shall I lay off a course for the Malayan coast, sir?’ Scott asked. ‘Or should we move up into the Gulf of Siam so that we’re across their lines of communication?’
Hamilton stared at the map thoughtfully. Scott’s suggestion of turning north into the Gulf of Siam was good - but until they had cleared the Indo-China coast they would have to continue westward. If they tried to reduce the distance by closing the coast and cutting towards the Mekong delta, they stood a good chance of being hunted by Vichy French patrols operating out of Saigon. No - far better to hold well to the south of Indo-China. The decision to move north could be made when the battle situation was clearer. And that could be another seventy-two hours.
‘I’ll decide our patrol area later, Pilot. Meanwhile, I want you to give me a course for the invasion area following a line about two hundred miles to the south of the Mekong.’ Leaving Scott to carry out his instructions, Hamilton made his way back to the bridge to tell Mannon what he had decided. The night was still fine and the sea smooth. A phosphorescent glow from the bows was a silent reminder that Rapier was in the tropics.
‘Is it Malaya, sir?’ Mannon asked.
‘At the moment, yes. But it’s my guess the Japs will move into Hong Kong fairly soon. It would be the logical thing to do now that they’ve shown their hand.
‘And if they do?’
‘I’d be inclined to turn back.’
Mannon raised his glasses and surveyed the horizon in silence for a few moments. It wasn’t his place to remind the skipper that they were under the C-in-C’s personal orders to return to Singapore. But Hamilton was right in one respect - if they returned to Hong Kong immediately they would be in time to strike the enemy during the critical initial stages of the attack. It made more sense that arriving at Kota Bharu several days too late.
‘It’s a pity we can’t call on the Yanks to help us out - their Pacific Fleet would make mincemeat of the Japs.’
‘I wouldn’t underestimate the enemy, Number One. Even the Americans could have a fight on their hands. But, to be honest, I can’t see Japan taking on the United States at this juncture. Once they’ve disposed of us, and perhaps the Dutch, and secured their oil supplies from the East Indies, they might attack the Philippines. But I doubt it. Tokyo knows it can’t defeat America so why invite a hiding for nothing?’
As Hamilton picked up his binoculars and examined the dark rim of the starboard horizon, he was unaware that five thousand miles away, Admiral Nagumo’s carrier strike force was treacherously closing in on its unsuspecting- target.
In less than four hours, a sequence of tragic events were to prove the fallacy of his misplaced optimism....
As eight bells signaled the end of the morning watch, Rapier’s officers assembled in the overcrowded wardroom for Hamilton’s council-of-war. Only Villiers, the new fourth hand, who had joined the boat at the last minute after Bruce had gone down with malaria, was missing. And at that precise moment, he was standing nervously on the bridge discovering the awesome responsibilities of watch- keeping under the benevolently paternal eye of Coxswain Blood.
Despite his natu
ral misgivings about the new sub-lieutenant’s lack of experience, Hamilton had been forced to throw the young reservist in at the deep end so that all of the submarine’s regular officers could attend the meeting. Not that he was seeking their approval of his proposed course of action. But if he was going to disobey orders, he at least wanted them to understand his reasons.
‘We have received no further reports of any significance during the morning,’ he told them briefly. ‘The Japanese are apparently well ashore in the Kota Bharu area and are enlarging their bridgehead. From the signals we’ve picked up they appear to have seized a number of advanced airfields.’ He turned to a large chart of South-East Asia which was hanging by a piece of string from a convenient deck head pipe. ‘It’s only guesswork, but it seems the Japs are using French Indo-China as their staging post for the invasion. With Vichy approval no doubt,’ he added bitterly.
Mannon stared at the map. ‘It seems a bit odd they’re only attacking Malaya, sir,’ he said voicing his doubts. ‘The RAF reconnaissance reports indicated only a small escort force with the troop convoys - where’s the rest of the Japanese Navy?’
‘A good question, Number One. I’ve been asking myself the same thing.’
‘Well, we’ve got plenty of options,’ Scott broke in cheerfully. ‘They could be going for the Dutch Indies or even Australia. If you want my opinion, sir, we ought to head for Singapore - then we can move in whichever direction is needed. If we go north to Kota Bharu, we’ll be too far away to be of any use to anyone. After all, the Malayan landings could be purely diversionary.’
A similar thought had crossed Hamilton’s mind. He looked at O’Brien, the submarine’s engineering officer. ‘Any ideas, Sean?’
‘Well, so long as they’re not heading for Belfast I’m not especially bothered. But whatever they’re doing I’d be after thinking they’re up to no good.’
Hamilton grinned. He was about to say something when the wardroom curtain was suddenly pushed aside and Jamieson, the wireless room runner, entered breathlessly and snapped to attention.
‘What is it, Jamieson?’
‘Message from the Leading telegraphist, Murray, sir. The Japs have started bombing Hong Kong, sir. And some other places. He says all hell’s been let loose, sir.’
‘Thank you, Jamieson. Tell Murray I’ll be along to the Radio Room in a few moments.’ Despite the atmosphere of electric excitement which the news had created in the wardroom, Hamilton seemed totally unflustered. ‘I think we should adjourn our meeting until I have clarified the situation, gentlemen,’ he told the others calmly. ‘You’d better go up and keep an eye on young Villiers, Alistair. He’s probably hiding in a corner being sick.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘And remember - any vessel flying the Japanese flag is to be regarded as hostile. However, no attacks are to be carried out until we receive confirmation from Singapore.’
‘Will you be needing me, sir?’ O’Brien asked.
‘Not for the moment, but we’re short-handed so I’ll probably have to rope you in for some watch keeping. You’d best get some sleep while you can. I shall want you in the Radio Room with me, Number One. I may need a second opinion.’
Murray was busy with his receiving equipment as Mannon and the skipper squeezed into the tiny cupboard that did duty as Rapier's radio room. He turned in his chair, but kept one pad of the headset pressed against his ear.
‘What’s the scare, Sparks,’ Hamilton asked.
‘Japanese aircraft are bombing Hong Kong, sir. And there’s been a raid on Singapore,’ Murray leaned forward, took a pink signal slip from the pad alongside the main transmitter, and handed it to the captain. ‘This came through about two minutes ago, sir.’
Hamilton glanced down at the message. It was brief and to the point: ‘From C-in-C Eastern Fleet to all ships. Commence hostilities against Japan’.
He passed it to Mannon without comment. ‘Have you verified the source?’ he asked Murray.
‘Yes, sir. It’s definitely genuine.’
‘And those other reports - where did you get them from?’
‘I picked up the Singapore raid from general traffic, sir. There was a hell of a flap on. Mostly plain language transmissions. I got the second on the other set - news announcements on Hong Kong Radio.’ Murray paused for a moment. ‘Every station in the Far East seems to be transmitting, sir. It’s bloody chaos. I’ve been picking up several reports about an attack on a place called Pearl Harbor- but there’s so much going on it’s difficult to sort out the facts.’
Hamilton looked up sharply. The name obviously meant nothing to Murray, but Pearl Harbor was the main base of the US Pacific Fleet in Hawaii. No wonder everyone was in a panic.
‘Can you pick up any of the Australian stations?’
‘I doubt it, sir. The Aussies mostly use low-power local transmitters. I think I could get Saigon radio - but they’ll be broadcasting in French.’
‘I can speak French,’ Mannon said quietly.
Hamilton nodded. ‘See if you can find Saigon, Sparks.’ He thrust his head out of the compartment as Murray began turning the dials. ‘Jamieson! Tell Kingham to report here at the double!’
‘Aye aye, sir.’
Hamilton turned back into the compartment. The second operator would be able to listen out on the main communications channel for instructions, while Murray was busy making his way around the dial searching for news from the civil stations. A crackle of atmospherics spat from the loudspeaker above the main receiver and the voice of a French newscaster was gradually distilled from the noise, as Murray twiddled the fine tuner. Mannon listened intently, while Hamilton idly leafed through the wireless signals received during the morning. He could pick out odd words like ‘Washington’ and ‘Roosevelt’ but the rest meant nothing and he waited a trifle impatiently.
‘Got enough yet, Number One?’
‘I think so, sir. Japanese carrier aircraft and midget submarines hit Pearl Harbor at dawn. They caught the Yanks by surprise. According to Saigon - and their reports are based on American news agency wires - the entire US Pacific Fleet has been destroyed!’
‘Bloody Hell!’
‘There’ll be bloody hell for you, Murray, if you don’t concentrate on your job,’ Hamilton snapped curtly. ‘You are not to repeat what you have just heard to anyone - understand? I will tell the ship’s company in my own good time. Meanwhile, stay tuned to Singapore and send all signals to me personally.’
‘I suppose we ought to call up Singapore and ask for fresh orders, sir.’ Mannon suggested diffidently.
‘Well, you suppose wrong, Number One. To hell with bloody orders – I’m making my own decisions from now on.’ Hamilton glanced sternly at the radio operator. ‘And remember, Murray, you didn’t hear that either.’
Seven
Although nightfall had brought the Navy a welcome relief from the air attacks that had raged without respite throughout the day, the land battle for Hong Kong continued into the darkness. The men on the gunboats could hear the sharp chatter of machine guns echoing across the black water and see the flicker of gunfire against the night sky, as the Japanese invaders maintained pressure on the exhausted and outnumbered troops falling back towards Kowloon. And, as they gathered at the rails with their mugs of steaming cocoa, they considered themselves infinitely better off than the soldiers struggling for survival in the holocaust ashore - even though most of them had been continuously at action stations for nearly twelve hours.
It was a sentiment shared by the officers. Standing at the starboard bridge wing of his gunboat, Ottershaw tried to follow the progress of the battle through his night glasses. But without adequate communication links to the troops ashore, it was impossible to make sense of the chaos and confusion on the darkened mainland. And, although it had always been a proud tradition in the Navy to give what help it could to the Army, there was little the ships could do until dawn....
‘Reduce to half-speed, Number One. I want to be in the vic
inity of Castle Peak Bay at first light, in case the Japs try to make a landing. And if there’s any trouble during the night at least we’ll be close at hand.’
While Forsyth was passing his instructions to the helmsman and engine room, Ottershaw examined the situation further to the east. It was not very encouraging. Victoria Island seemed fairly quiet, but large fires were still burning in the center of Kowloon and the dense pall of smoke hanging in the sky over the Colony’s only airfield at Kai Tak boded ill for the next day. If the RAF had been knocked out, air supremacy would pass to the Japanese and, with no fighters to drive off enemy bombing attacks, the prospects for the Navy’s little ships looked decidedly gloomy.
He turned to the gunboat’s bosun standing to the rear of the wheelhouse. ‘Secure from Action Stations, Mister Phillips. Tell the cooks to get some grub ready and pipe all hands to dinner in thirty minutes.’
The chief wondered what the cooks would use for food. Firefly had left for sea at short notice and the stores waiting on the quayside had been left behind in the rush. Dinner, for all the promise of its name, was likely to be cold bully beef and ship’s biscuits. Still he supposed it could be worse and, acknowledging Ottershaw’s order with a salute, he made his way aft to the galley.
‘I see that bugger Hamilton just managed to get away in the nick of time, sir,’ Forsyth said suddenly. ‘A good thing for his reputation probably,’ he added bitterly. ‘Those bloody submariners are all the same - all wind and bluff. I don’t see anything brave in sneaking along under the sea and torpedoing some poor bloody ship that doesn’t even know you’re there. They ought to try standing on the surface in broad daylight and fighting the enemy face to face.’
‘You don’t seem to like our friend Hamilton, Number One,’ Ottershaw observed mildly.
‘Damned newspaper hero, sir,’ Forsyth said firmly. ‘He wouldn’t have got that DSO without the help of his pals in Fleet Street. And, thanks to him, poor old Gerry Cavendish was booted out of the service.’1 Ottershaw made no comment. He did not share his executive officer’s views and he had no intention of getting involved in an argument. He had little doubt that antipathy to the submarine commander dated back to the former’s lack of initiative when Ottershaw was being held as an unwilling guest on Suma.
