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HMS Courageous Sinking
In the dim light I made out the dark shape of the coaster and swam towards it. It wasn't easy because my arms and legs felt like lead weights. Swimming and treading water for about two hours was taking it's toll and I was feeling every one of my sixteen years. The action of the choppy sea and the cold was sapping my strength, making me very weary. At times my senses left me and I wondered if I was about to drown. Strangely I had lost the fear of dying, and resigned myself to going under.
A Fleet Air Arm Observer, I recognised, was swimming close by and saw I was getting weaker. He had enough to do to look after himself but he shouted to me "Keep going son, your Mother and Father will be expecting you to come home. Come on lad, keep at it". It encouraged me to try harder and keep swimming towards the 'Dido'.
He stayed near, urging me on until we reached the little tramp steamer. I was far too exhausted to climb the rope ladder but an alert seaman on board saw my plight and scrambled down to pull me to safety. With great relief I was unceremoniously bundled on to the deck. Inside the ships' cabin I joined several other scantily clad survivors, huddled together trying to keep warm but rejoicing to be out of the cold sea.
Word was passed that a destroyer would come alongside some time during the night to take us on board. We were warned to carry out the transfer as swiftly as possible because the U-boat might still be about. When the flotilla leader H.M.S.Inglefield arrived, we needed no encouragement to 'look lively', some brave souls took a gamble and jumped precariously across from one ship to the other. Once on board the 'Inglefield' I got rid of my oil soaked underpants which seemed to be the 'rig of the day' for all the survivors. The first job was to remove as much of the foul smelling fuel oil as possible, especially from around mouth and eyes. I was given a blanket by one of the destroyer's crew and taken to join a queue for an issue of neat rum.
When a mug with an over generous measure was thrust into my hand by the Quartermaster I sheepishly confessed "I don't draw, I'm only sixteen", meaning that I was too young to be issued with spirits. His reply was typical of most Quartermasters. "Bloody-well get it down you son, and then get another bloody cupful". I didn't argue, it had been a long night and I was very tired.
Forrard in the seamen’s mess I downed endless mugs of hot tea before the soothing effects of the rum, and the warmth of the blanket, sent me into a deep sleep. I was oblivious to the fact that H.M.S.Inglefield, now on her own, was still sweeping, desperately trying to find the submarine. Circling at speed throughout the night the destroyer's crew kept a constant watch while the ASDIC operators sent a constant 'ping' from their detectors to probe the depths of the ocean for the U-Boat.
The captain of 'Inglefield', hoping to find more survivors, decided to carry out a final search in daylight. As dawn came up I joined the others on deck. Wrapped in my blanket to cover my nakedness and to keep warm, I looked out on a scene of chilling desolation cloaked in a mantle of eerie silence. Nobody spoke, we just stared at the melancholy spectacle that was a harsh lesson in the realities of war and the consequences of getting caught off guard.
Floating debris and bloated corpses could be seen everywhere but not a living soul. The now abundant flotsam would have been welcome the previous evening. Now it only reminded us of the tragic loss of life in a war that was just two weeks old.
The trawl proved hopeless and the search was reluctantly abandoned. 'Inglefield' set course for Plymouth, at least she was bringing some survivors home. After tying up at Devonport we handed the blankets back to their owners. In return we got small squares of cloth to hold over our 'private' parts for the walk to the barracks. A truck was waiting at the jetty with plimsolls of mixed sizes to save us walking in bare feet. Earlier survivors had been lucky enough to get blankets to cover themselves with Men and women working in the dockyard and barracks turned out to see us. It was embarrassing at first because of the groups of women lining the roadway.
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HMS Courageous |
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HMS Courageous June-September 1939 from the book “Taking the King’s Shilling” by John Cannon |
