- Author
- A.N. Other and NHSA Webmaster
- Subjects
- Biographies and personal histories, RAN operations, Ship histories and stories, WWII operations
- Tags
- None noted.
- RAN Ships
- None noted.
- Publication
- September 2006 edition of the Naval Historical Review (all rights reserved)
‘They got the carrier that time,’ someone says.
I lever myself up on an elbow and look round. Over to starboard, I see a wall of geyser-like jets of water and the stern of the carrier disappearing amongst them. Can he be right? I pray not. He’s wrong. I cheer weakly. She steams through it all, apparently unscathed, her guns still blazing away.
The bombers make off, as though disgusted with their lack of success. Three small specks hover over those larger shapes, then dive steeply to attack. Some of the Fleet Air Arm have been waiting for them. We hear the sound of machine gun fire. The bombers turn to avoid those diving machines. The fighters are upon them. Two of the foe fall from the sky. How we cheer. Another comes down in a spin, and the rest head for home with the fighters in pursuit.
No damage
I wipe the sweat from my brow. Thank God that’s over. We reform on the Fleet and drop back to our normal speed. No damage, but a couple fell too close for comfort. Excited chatter breaks out, with some highly descriptive statements about the parentage of the fast-fleeing airmen. We replenish the ready use ammo lockers, amidst conjecture about when the next raid will come. Hands troop forward to tea.
After tea, we adjourn to the recreation room to listen to the radio. Music seems rather strange after the din of the past hour or so. We are not to remain peaceful for long however; the loudspeaker booms out the direction to all hands to muster on the Quarterdeck in five minutes’ time.
Conjecture is rife as to what it all means. We fall in at the appointed time. Silence reigns as the Old Man walks onto the deck. In a few words, he informs us that, with an accompanying destroyer, we have been detailed to bombard an Italian island, which is being used as an air base. Zero hour is at dawn tomorrow.
With our escort, we turn away from the Fleet at dusk, to the accompaniment of their good wishes. Throughout the night, we speed through the phosphorescent waters. With the dawn, the angry clamour of the action alarm forces us all awake.
Enemy MTBs
Turrets report correct. Parts of ship report closed up ready for action. To starboard, a signal blinks out,
‘Bearing Red 30, 5 enemy MTBs approaching at high speed. Distance 6 miles.’
This looks like trouble. Those boats are travelling at nearly 50 miles an hour on a zigzag course. They also carry two torpedoes. The destroyer turns head-on to offer the smallest possible target, then speeds away, guns spitting flames and steel at the fast-approaching menace. The whine of shells in flight cleaves the atmosphere. Wham! One motorboat flies into fragments, a second bursts into brilliant flames. That deadly fire continues.
Now we are firing. Our main armament thunders forth. Our objective, the airfield, is obscured by palls of heavy smoke as SAP shells continue their work of destruction. The ship reverberates to the recoil of pounding guns. The smell of cordite permeates the atmosphere.
‘Cease fire!’ comes the command. The stillness seems strange. Our escort by this time has sunk three of her challengers, and the remainder have taken flight. Together, we turn and speed away from the area. We are now on our way back to rejoin the Fleet, and we really can’t help but wonder what the new day may bring.
Anyway, those Cup results should be broadcast soon.