Fair enough. That also explains how you knew that it was Hartlepools, which isn't widely known. As I said before, I look forward to seeing you develop this TL.
Angles with webbed feet
- Thread starter Peg Leg Pom
- Start date
Chapter 4
Part 3
After having the shipyard boys give the old girl one last look over just to make sure that everything was as it should be, and as some of the more cynical said see what they could lift we left the Clyde and headed south to Swansea to pick up my flight, coal ship and head to the Mediterranean. It was on that short trip that the first flight was launched from Campania while she was underway. Previously the ship had hove to and lowered the aircraft to the sea, which was useful practice in using the aircraft hoists but didn’t take full advantage of the ships design. The aircraft were placed on trolleys to make moving them on board easier than if they rested on their floats. In order to launch an aircraft from the ship’s deck it was first taken from the open aircraft servicing deck directly under the flight deck where the aircraft was fuelled and the engine warmed up to the flight deck. Then taking care that no one walked into the propeller as the engine was left ticking over, it was moved to the top of the flying of ramp where it’s wings were spread and locked in place. With the wings secure the pilot checked that the controls were working correctly and opened the throttle right up. After making sure the engine was working properly the pilot signalled the aircraft handling party to pull the chocks clear and raced down the ramp and into the air and the trolley which was both attached to the ship by a line and had floatation bags attached fell clear of the aircraft to be recovered before the next take off. This process from moving the aircraft to the deck to take off took approximately four minutes. Recovering the aircraft was less straight forward as the ship had to hove to in order to winch the aircraft aboard.
After spending two days swanning around the Irish Sea launching and recovering aircraft Captain Swan decided that we should see how fast we could launch the entire aircraft compliment. At that point we had 13 aircraft including my charcoal grew mount and in just under twenty five minutes we launched the lot. That’s when we discovered a large problem with recovering all those aircraft at sea. The ship had to stay maintaining just steerage way for over an hour. With the threat of enemy action or submarines it was not feasible to do this. The ship would be a sitting duck. Even without that threat in heavy weather while the ship might be able to launch aircraft it would never be able to recover them. It was beginning to look like working with the fleet at sea would be impossible and the ship would never be more than an aircraft tender only going to sea to move from anchorage to anchorage.
These exercises also showed up a fault with our aircraft. Oh the 184s could do the jobs expected of them alright. The problem was for some reason Short Brothers had placed the large boxlike radiator right in front of the pilot, you couldn’t see what was in front of you. Why it was mounted there I never found out. We had plenty of theories of course; the most popular was that Horace Short was drunk when he designed it. Another was that they were trying to say “Our aircraft are so good the pilot can fly them blind folded”.
On reaching Swansea we again endured the agony that was coaling ship and taking on stores. It was here as well that the ship took on a full load of petrol for our aircraft. It was not like no where the petrol is pumped into large bunkers and when needed pumped up to where the aircraft is fuelled with its elaborate safety procedures, oh no. In those days the fuel came aboard on ordinary flimsy commercial five gallon petrol tins, exactly the same tins as you would fuel your car or motorbike from. That first full load was all in tins that had civilian labelling on them. They were tins that had been intended to be sold to the motoring public. These tins we found tended to rust in the salty air of a ship and the ones in the bottom layers in the Petrol hold would often split along the tins soldered seem and leak filling the hold with explosive petrol vapours. After a near miss where a rating working in the hold was rendered unconscious by the vapour, Captain Swan ordered that the holds hatch be left open whenever the weather permitted.
Once the ship was fully provisioned and my other two aircraft taken aboard the Captain permitted the crew not on duty to have a final run ashore before we sailed. This led to a great deal of grumbling amongst those of us on duty but we knew that our turn would be next and to those amongst us who had never left Britain before the prospect of a run ashore in Gibraltar, Malta or Alexandria seemed a lot more appealing than a Tuesday night in Swansea. The rest of us knew better, it doesn’t matter what the port is the fleshpots are all basically the same and the humble sailor has to be careful that he’s not robbed blind and doesn’t come down with a Venereal Disease. In time of war he has to make sure he doesn’t let slip details of when he’s sailing, where he’s going and what he will be doing. You never can tell who’s listening.
By 3am most of the crew were safely back aboard, many of them broke and sporting new tattoos bruises and other signs of a last run ashore. We were waiting for the tide and the police and shore patrol to bring the last stragglers when up the gangplank came a large short haired tabby cat that managed to avoid all search parties until after we sailed. That cat became the ships mascot, and because she could ensnare even the most hardened of old salts with her charms was given the name Lady Hamilton on the ships role and called Emma by just about all of us.
At 03.45 the last of the stragglers were just about thrown aboard by the police, roaring drunk and ready to pick a fight. So we sent them straight to the brig. The next day I was not surprised to find that two of those drunks were the two trouble makers my flight was saddled with, which just confirmed my decision to get rid of them as soon as I could.
Part 3
After having the shipyard boys give the old girl one last look over just to make sure that everything was as it should be, and as some of the more cynical said see what they could lift we left the Clyde and headed south to Swansea to pick up my flight, coal ship and head to the Mediterranean. It was on that short trip that the first flight was launched from Campania while she was underway. Previously the ship had hove to and lowered the aircraft to the sea, which was useful practice in using the aircraft hoists but didn’t take full advantage of the ships design. The aircraft were placed on trolleys to make moving them on board easier than if they rested on their floats. In order to launch an aircraft from the ship’s deck it was first taken from the open aircraft servicing deck directly under the flight deck where the aircraft was fuelled and the engine warmed up to the flight deck. Then taking care that no one walked into the propeller as the engine was left ticking over, it was moved to the top of the flying of ramp where it’s wings were spread and locked in place. With the wings secure the pilot checked that the controls were working correctly and opened the throttle right up. After making sure the engine was working properly the pilot signalled the aircraft handling party to pull the chocks clear and raced down the ramp and into the air and the trolley which was both attached to the ship by a line and had floatation bags attached fell clear of the aircraft to be recovered before the next take off. This process from moving the aircraft to the deck to take off took approximately four minutes. Recovering the aircraft was less straight forward as the ship had to hove to in order to winch the aircraft aboard.
After spending two days swanning around the Irish Sea launching and recovering aircraft Captain Swan decided that we should see how fast we could launch the entire aircraft compliment. At that point we had 13 aircraft including my charcoal grew mount and in just under twenty five minutes we launched the lot. That’s when we discovered a large problem with recovering all those aircraft at sea. The ship had to stay maintaining just steerage way for over an hour. With the threat of enemy action or submarines it was not feasible to do this. The ship would be a sitting duck. Even without that threat in heavy weather while the ship might be able to launch aircraft it would never be able to recover them. It was beginning to look like working with the fleet at sea would be impossible and the ship would never be more than an aircraft tender only going to sea to move from anchorage to anchorage.
These exercises also showed up a fault with our aircraft. Oh the 184s could do the jobs expected of them alright. The problem was for some reason Short Brothers had placed the large boxlike radiator right in front of the pilot, you couldn’t see what was in front of you. Why it was mounted there I never found out. We had plenty of theories of course; the most popular was that Horace Short was drunk when he designed it. Another was that they were trying to say “Our aircraft are so good the pilot can fly them blind folded”.
On reaching Swansea we again endured the agony that was coaling ship and taking on stores. It was here as well that the ship took on a full load of petrol for our aircraft. It was not like no where the petrol is pumped into large bunkers and when needed pumped up to where the aircraft is fuelled with its elaborate safety procedures, oh no. In those days the fuel came aboard on ordinary flimsy commercial five gallon petrol tins, exactly the same tins as you would fuel your car or motorbike from. That first full load was all in tins that had civilian labelling on them. They were tins that had been intended to be sold to the motoring public. These tins we found tended to rust in the salty air of a ship and the ones in the bottom layers in the Petrol hold would often split along the tins soldered seem and leak filling the hold with explosive petrol vapours. After a near miss where a rating working in the hold was rendered unconscious by the vapour, Captain Swan ordered that the holds hatch be left open whenever the weather permitted.
Once the ship was fully provisioned and my other two aircraft taken aboard the Captain permitted the crew not on duty to have a final run ashore before we sailed. This led to a great deal of grumbling amongst those of us on duty but we knew that our turn would be next and to those amongst us who had never left Britain before the prospect of a run ashore in Gibraltar, Malta or Alexandria seemed a lot more appealing than a Tuesday night in Swansea. The rest of us knew better, it doesn’t matter what the port is the fleshpots are all basically the same and the humble sailor has to be careful that he’s not robbed blind and doesn’t come down with a Venereal Disease. In time of war he has to make sure he doesn’t let slip details of when he’s sailing, where he’s going and what he will be doing. You never can tell who’s listening.
By 3am most of the crew were safely back aboard, many of them broke and sporting new tattoos bruises and other signs of a last run ashore. We were waiting for the tide and the police and shore patrol to bring the last stragglers when up the gangplank came a large short haired tabby cat that managed to avoid all search parties until after we sailed. That cat became the ships mascot, and because she could ensnare even the most hardened of old salts with her charms was given the name Lady Hamilton on the ships role and called Emma by just about all of us.
At 03.45 the last of the stragglers were just about thrown aboard by the police, roaring drunk and ready to pick a fight. So we sent them straight to the brig. The next day I was not surprised to find that two of those drunks were the two trouble makers my flight was saddled with, which just confirmed my decision to get rid of them as soon as I could.
Peg Leg Pom
As well as the inferior performance in the air those were the two other problems with sea-planes. That their dependent on sea conditions to retrieve plans [and in other cases winch them out to take off] and the fact the ship has to heave to to pick up a plane. Hopefully we're going to see a faster move towards land a/c, especially since the ship could actually use them. I wonder if anyone on board will suggest removing the floats and actually landing on the deck? Think this is before the 1st such landing OTL but should be possible. Possibly not an experiment that would be acceptable on a military mission however.
Steve
As well as the inferior performance in the air those were the two other problems with sea-planes. That their dependent on sea conditions to retrieve plans [and in other cases winch them out to take off] and the fact the ship has to heave to to pick up a plane. Hopefully we're going to see a faster move towards land a/c, especially since the ship could actually use them. I wonder if anyone on board will suggest removing the floats and actually landing on the deck? Think this is before the 1st such landing OTL but should be possible. Possibly not an experiment that would be acceptable on a military mission however.
Steve
Chapter 5
Part 1.
Next morning we sailed with the tide at 09.15 and headed off the Mediterranean and into the war. The weather was good as we set off south and would have been ideal flying weather, but even though we all needed the practice, especially my new joined flight it was not possible. We would have had to stop the ship to recover the aircraft and as we were to meet up with our escorts near the Scilly Isles that evening the captain vetoed the idea.
As it happens our escorts were delayed by mechanical problems so we had to wait near the Scillies till morning. Squadron commander Pat Davis and I took advantage of the delay to give our pilots more training and had aircraft in the air until just after 22.00 when the sun dipped below the horizon. While the last of our flight crews were going over their flights Lieutenant Stevens and I took off into the approaching darkness. We wanted to see if we could fly to a specific location at night and return to our ship and whether we could carry out a mission successfully at night. The plan was to fly over the naval base at Portland and after shooting off two very lights take a photograph of the base, the do the same at Lullworth Cove and return to the ship. It seemed simple enough when we planned the flight, but then again these things often do.
The first thing we found was that we got disorientated easily as we couldn’t see the horizon. You have to remember that in those early days we had very few instruments to help us. We had a fuel gage, engine revolution counter and a compass in the cockpit. The airspeed indicator was a device attached to the innermost rear strut on the starboard wing where a lever was pushed back against a spring and we read the speed from a scale on its mounting plate. The faster we went the further back the lever was pushed. In the gloom of the evening it became very difficult to read. We both also found it even more difficult to tell how far we were being pushed off our planned route by the wind. Even though the Scilly Isles were close to the mainland when we made landfall we had still been blown some five miles off course. Not a problem when as now we could just follow the coast to our targets but had we been looking for a ship at sea we would have missed it.
When we got to Portland and sent off our flares it was obvious that very lights were just not large enough for us to get a good look at what was in the harbour. We also found that the wireless warning we had sent the base commander had either been disregarded or not passed on to the ships in port. As soon as the flares burst above the harbour ships searchlights lit up and began probing the darkness as we expected. What we didn’t expect was for three cruisers to shoot off star shells and start shooting blindly into the sky with their 2 pound pom poms. Fortunately the firing soon stopped as someone finally told the ships in the harbour that this was a planned exercise by friendly aircraft and not an attack, and neither of our two aircraft was damaged. Shaken our observers two of the flights Petty Officers took their photographs and we headed further up the coast past Weymouth and onto Lullworth Cove were we repeated our action this time with no one shooting at us. So we thought any way until we returned to the ship and one of my struts was found to have been hit with a shotgun pellet. One of our riggers was fond of carving and made a wooden model of my aircraft gluing the pellet on the strut it hit. This model became the first of our Fights heirlooms and has pride of place at any formal dinner the squadron we grew into hosts.
The most difficult part of the flight was as we expected finding our way back to our ship. It took us longer than we expected to locate the Scilly Isles as we had again been blown off course and when we did it was hard to tell one island from another. If the ship hadn’t been hove to near to the island of Tresco we would never have found her and we wouldn’t have had enough fuel left to return to the mainland. Exhausted and shaken both by been shot at over Portland and nearly running out of fuel before we found our ship we were all glad to get back aboard and after a quick meal and tot of rum we all turned in for the night.
The next morning we were feeling pretty good about our night flight, at least until we saw the results. There were wireless messages from the ships at Portland the Admiral commanding at Portland and the Admiralty itself, none of which were impressed with our efforts. The photographs were also next to useless the poor light provided by the very lights meant that only a vague outline of the harbour could be made out and possibly one large ship but it was impossible to tell what it was. Clearly we had a lot to do before stunts like the night before could be usefull.
Part 1.
Next morning we sailed with the tide at 09.15 and headed off the Mediterranean and into the war. The weather was good as we set off south and would have been ideal flying weather, but even though we all needed the practice, especially my new joined flight it was not possible. We would have had to stop the ship to recover the aircraft and as we were to meet up with our escorts near the Scilly Isles that evening the captain vetoed the idea.
As it happens our escorts were delayed by mechanical problems so we had to wait near the Scillies till morning. Squadron commander Pat Davis and I took advantage of the delay to give our pilots more training and had aircraft in the air until just after 22.00 when the sun dipped below the horizon. While the last of our flight crews were going over their flights Lieutenant Stevens and I took off into the approaching darkness. We wanted to see if we could fly to a specific location at night and return to our ship and whether we could carry out a mission successfully at night. The plan was to fly over the naval base at Portland and after shooting off two very lights take a photograph of the base, the do the same at Lullworth Cove and return to the ship. It seemed simple enough when we planned the flight, but then again these things often do.
The first thing we found was that we got disorientated easily as we couldn’t see the horizon. You have to remember that in those early days we had very few instruments to help us. We had a fuel gage, engine revolution counter and a compass in the cockpit. The airspeed indicator was a device attached to the innermost rear strut on the starboard wing where a lever was pushed back against a spring and we read the speed from a scale on its mounting plate. The faster we went the further back the lever was pushed. In the gloom of the evening it became very difficult to read. We both also found it even more difficult to tell how far we were being pushed off our planned route by the wind. Even though the Scilly Isles were close to the mainland when we made landfall we had still been blown some five miles off course. Not a problem when as now we could just follow the coast to our targets but had we been looking for a ship at sea we would have missed it.
When we got to Portland and sent off our flares it was obvious that very lights were just not large enough for us to get a good look at what was in the harbour. We also found that the wireless warning we had sent the base commander had either been disregarded or not passed on to the ships in port. As soon as the flares burst above the harbour ships searchlights lit up and began probing the darkness as we expected. What we didn’t expect was for three cruisers to shoot off star shells and start shooting blindly into the sky with their 2 pound pom poms. Fortunately the firing soon stopped as someone finally told the ships in the harbour that this was a planned exercise by friendly aircraft and not an attack, and neither of our two aircraft was damaged. Shaken our observers two of the flights Petty Officers took their photographs and we headed further up the coast past Weymouth and onto Lullworth Cove were we repeated our action this time with no one shooting at us. So we thought any way until we returned to the ship and one of my struts was found to have been hit with a shotgun pellet. One of our riggers was fond of carving and made a wooden model of my aircraft gluing the pellet on the strut it hit. This model became the first of our Fights heirlooms and has pride of place at any formal dinner the squadron we grew into hosts.
The most difficult part of the flight was as we expected finding our way back to our ship. It took us longer than we expected to locate the Scilly Isles as we had again been blown off course and when we did it was hard to tell one island from another. If the ship hadn’t been hove to near to the island of Tresco we would never have found her and we wouldn’t have had enough fuel left to return to the mainland. Exhausted and shaken both by been shot at over Portland and nearly running out of fuel before we found our ship we were all glad to get back aboard and after a quick meal and tot of rum we all turned in for the night.
The next morning we were feeling pretty good about our night flight, at least until we saw the results. There were wireless messages from the ships at Portland the Admiral commanding at Portland and the Admiralty itself, none of which were impressed with our efforts. The photographs were also next to useless the poor light provided by the very lights meant that only a vague outline of the harbour could be made out and possibly one large ship but it was impossible to tell what it was. Clearly we had a lot to do before stunts like the night before could be usefull.
Chapter 5
Part 2
Our escorts arrived just after nine the next morning. Captain Swan had the captains of our two escorting destroyers report aboard to go over the plans for our journey over a mid morning coffee. The main concern was U Boats in the South West Approaches, after all it was not that long ago that the Lusitania had been sunk of Ireland and despite the work done in converting the Campania she was still just a twenty year old ocean liner at heart. Our best course would be to avoid running into a U Boat at all, as there was little our escorts could do to protect us if we did. These were the days before depth charges and asdic and the hydrophones fitted to the destroyers were very basic, with little chance of detecting a submerged U Boat unless the ships were just drifting along barely maintaining steerage way.
One of the things brought up was the option of having our aircraft search ahead of us for surfaced submarines. It was agreed that this was a good idea in theory but concerns were raised about whether the searching aircraft could be recovered or even find us at sea. There were also doubts about whether an aircraft could find a submarine before it could submerge. None of our experienced pilots had actually sighted a submarine on a patrol flight. Captain Swan finally decided that we would only send up patrols if we had received news of submarines in the area and that if this was necessary it would be a volunteer only mission due to the risk of not been able to stop the ship to recover the aircraft and crew. The captain of the destroyer HMS Wolfhound asked for permission to heave to long enough to pick up the flight crew if it should be necessary and was given tentative permission to do so, but only if it would not endanger the Campania or other destroyers.
After the destroyer captains had returned to their ships Pat Davis and I called together our pilots and briefed them on the possible use of our aircraft to search for enemy Submarines in out path. After explaining that it could not be guaranteed that they could be picked up after a patrol and assuring them that there was no pressure we asked for volunteers for the flights, and were proud that no a single pilot refused. I don’t know what Pat Davis had planned for any non volunteers but I certainly felt that I had no place for any faint hearted pilots and would have done my best to have any replaced. Working for Admiral Johnson was going to be hazardous enough without having to worry if one of my pilots was going to crack.
The first couple of days of the trip out were uneventful. The weather was mild and the sea calm. It was almost possible to forget that there was a war going on, with the off watch crew members making use of our flight deck as an impromptu football field, at least until a badly missed penalty kick knocked off Captain Swans cap.
On the third day out the reality of the war was brought dramatically home to us when one of our lookouts spotted something in the sea of our port side. We thought it was just a collection of driftwood to begin with but as we got closer we realised it was a waterlogged ships boat. The Wolfhound sent a boat to check for survivors while the rest of us continued on, but when we saw the coxswain of the boat turn and vomit we knew there would be none. Still Wolfhound recovered the bodies for a proper burial at sea and so that we could find out the identity of the lost ship and then rejoined the rest of us. That evening our small force hove to after sunset and the recovered bodies were committed the deep. We later learned that the bodies came from a French freighter that had last been seen passing the Azores three weeks earlier.
The discovery of the last remains of the SS Gabriel prompted Captain Swan to reconsider his decision not to have our aircraft fly patrols, and he ordered up to begin just before dawn the next day. When we had planned our patrol flights Pat Davis and I had decided that we would have two aircraft in the air at all times during the daylight hours. Both aircraft would patrol an area roughly 10 miles ahead of the ship one circling 10 miles to port and the other to starboard. Each flight would be for two and a half hours and would only return to the ship when it was relieved by the next two aircraft. The first thing we learned during these flights was that waiting until you meet up with your relief aircraft could very easily lead to you running out of fuel, so for the next day we changed it so that take offs were staggered with the second aircraft on patrol took off 10 minutes after the first and the aircraft patrolled the same area, which covered both port and starboard sides of our course. The time on patrol was also reduced to two hours.
We were still faced with the unpleasant fact that the ship had to heave to in order to recover our aircraft, a problem that would be solved by Lieutenant Dunning C flight leader in 22 squadron just before we reached Gibraltar. Mind you Captain Swan arrested him when he did it.
Dunning was flying the last patrol of that leg of our voyage and because his partner aircraft was unable to take off had been forced to fly the patrol alone. We were less than half an hour from Gib when his flight was due to end and he had been given the option of flying on ahead of us instead of returning to the ship and delaying our arrival. After five days of zigzagging all over the Bay of Biscay and what seemed like half of the North Atlantic at fifteen knots, with stops every two and half hours we were all looking forward to stretching our legs ashore so we hoped he would fly ahead. The sea was also getting up and we all thought he would be better off landing in the harbour than out here on the open sea, but as the ship was heading in to an 18 knot headwind it all depended on Dunning’s fuel level.
Right on time Dunning returned to the ship but he gave no indication whether he intended to land or not. We knew he must be low on fuel as with the ships speed and the headwind Campania’s wind speed was 33 knots and we later worked out this meant Lieutenant Dunning had no more than 15 minutes worth of fuel left. He claimed to the Captain who though sceptical at least pretended to believe him that this made him unable to proceed ahead of us, and that the sea state made a water landing impossible. Strange that the sea was no different than it was for the patrol flight before his to land, but as pilot that was his choice to make.
Anyway what Dunning did was drop down to a height about ten feet above our deck and then pull up along our port side at just above stalling speed. This meant he was overhauling us by around 12 knots before opening his throttle and going around. He did this three times and by now we were getting worried, as we knew by now he hadn’t the fuel to reach Gibraltar yet he still hadn’t given the signal that he intended to touch down. On his fourth approach we saw his observer start to signal us with his Aldus lamp and the Captain was about to order the ship to heave to when the Yeoman read out “Unable to land at sea or reach Gibraltar. Request Ship make maximum speed”.
Captain Swan turned to look at Dunning’s aircraft so fast his back cracked and after muttering a quiet bloody hell under his breath gave the order. He also ordered me to get two of our Marines and place Dunning under arrest as soon as his feet touched out deck. By now some hundred or so of the ships company were on deck watching the madman and wondering what on earth was going on, so realising what Dunning was up to I ordered them to clear the deck. With the ship now doing twenty knots Dunning’s observer signalled again and I heard the Marine Lance Corporal beside me laugh, “Cheeky Bastard, Request permission to come aboard, Swan’ll have ‘is balls for that.”
Dunning again came up alongside us but this time about one hundred feet behind the aft funnel he banked gently to starboard, straightened out over the deck, cut his engine and dropped down onto the deck and after sliding forwards for a short distance came to a halt.
I couldn’t believe the lunatic had actually done it. Sure in the wardroom we pilots had talked about the possibility of landing on board, but not in seaplanes, and not in the 184 with its radiator blocking the view forward. We must have all stood gapping for a good ten seconds before we were brought back to reality by the sound of our destroyer escorts horns and the flash of a camera forward. Giving myself a quick shake I ordered my two marine companions to come with me and as soon as I had made sure Dunning and the observer were alright apart from a justified silly grins on their faces officially arrested them and had the escorted to their quarters and confined their until Captain Swan sent for them.
Part 2
Our escorts arrived just after nine the next morning. Captain Swan had the captains of our two escorting destroyers report aboard to go over the plans for our journey over a mid morning coffee. The main concern was U Boats in the South West Approaches, after all it was not that long ago that the Lusitania had been sunk of Ireland and despite the work done in converting the Campania she was still just a twenty year old ocean liner at heart. Our best course would be to avoid running into a U Boat at all, as there was little our escorts could do to protect us if we did. These were the days before depth charges and asdic and the hydrophones fitted to the destroyers were very basic, with little chance of detecting a submerged U Boat unless the ships were just drifting along barely maintaining steerage way.
One of the things brought up was the option of having our aircraft search ahead of us for surfaced submarines. It was agreed that this was a good idea in theory but concerns were raised about whether the searching aircraft could be recovered or even find us at sea. There were also doubts about whether an aircraft could find a submarine before it could submerge. None of our experienced pilots had actually sighted a submarine on a patrol flight. Captain Swan finally decided that we would only send up patrols if we had received news of submarines in the area and that if this was necessary it would be a volunteer only mission due to the risk of not been able to stop the ship to recover the aircraft and crew. The captain of the destroyer HMS Wolfhound asked for permission to heave to long enough to pick up the flight crew if it should be necessary and was given tentative permission to do so, but only if it would not endanger the Campania or other destroyers.
After the destroyer captains had returned to their ships Pat Davis and I called together our pilots and briefed them on the possible use of our aircraft to search for enemy Submarines in out path. After explaining that it could not be guaranteed that they could be picked up after a patrol and assuring them that there was no pressure we asked for volunteers for the flights, and were proud that no a single pilot refused. I don’t know what Pat Davis had planned for any non volunteers but I certainly felt that I had no place for any faint hearted pilots and would have done my best to have any replaced. Working for Admiral Johnson was going to be hazardous enough without having to worry if one of my pilots was going to crack.
The first couple of days of the trip out were uneventful. The weather was mild and the sea calm. It was almost possible to forget that there was a war going on, with the off watch crew members making use of our flight deck as an impromptu football field, at least until a badly missed penalty kick knocked off Captain Swans cap.
On the third day out the reality of the war was brought dramatically home to us when one of our lookouts spotted something in the sea of our port side. We thought it was just a collection of driftwood to begin with but as we got closer we realised it was a waterlogged ships boat. The Wolfhound sent a boat to check for survivors while the rest of us continued on, but when we saw the coxswain of the boat turn and vomit we knew there would be none. Still Wolfhound recovered the bodies for a proper burial at sea and so that we could find out the identity of the lost ship and then rejoined the rest of us. That evening our small force hove to after sunset and the recovered bodies were committed the deep. We later learned that the bodies came from a French freighter that had last been seen passing the Azores three weeks earlier.
The discovery of the last remains of the SS Gabriel prompted Captain Swan to reconsider his decision not to have our aircraft fly patrols, and he ordered up to begin just before dawn the next day. When we had planned our patrol flights Pat Davis and I had decided that we would have two aircraft in the air at all times during the daylight hours. Both aircraft would patrol an area roughly 10 miles ahead of the ship one circling 10 miles to port and the other to starboard. Each flight would be for two and a half hours and would only return to the ship when it was relieved by the next two aircraft. The first thing we learned during these flights was that waiting until you meet up with your relief aircraft could very easily lead to you running out of fuel, so for the next day we changed it so that take offs were staggered with the second aircraft on patrol took off 10 minutes after the first and the aircraft patrolled the same area, which covered both port and starboard sides of our course. The time on patrol was also reduced to two hours.
We were still faced with the unpleasant fact that the ship had to heave to in order to recover our aircraft, a problem that would be solved by Lieutenant Dunning C flight leader in 22 squadron just before we reached Gibraltar. Mind you Captain Swan arrested him when he did it.
Dunning was flying the last patrol of that leg of our voyage and because his partner aircraft was unable to take off had been forced to fly the patrol alone. We were less than half an hour from Gib when his flight was due to end and he had been given the option of flying on ahead of us instead of returning to the ship and delaying our arrival. After five days of zigzagging all over the Bay of Biscay and what seemed like half of the North Atlantic at fifteen knots, with stops every two and half hours we were all looking forward to stretching our legs ashore so we hoped he would fly ahead. The sea was also getting up and we all thought he would be better off landing in the harbour than out here on the open sea, but as the ship was heading in to an 18 knot headwind it all depended on Dunning’s fuel level.
Right on time Dunning returned to the ship but he gave no indication whether he intended to land or not. We knew he must be low on fuel as with the ships speed and the headwind Campania’s wind speed was 33 knots and we later worked out this meant Lieutenant Dunning had no more than 15 minutes worth of fuel left. He claimed to the Captain who though sceptical at least pretended to believe him that this made him unable to proceed ahead of us, and that the sea state made a water landing impossible. Strange that the sea was no different than it was for the patrol flight before his to land, but as pilot that was his choice to make.
Anyway what Dunning did was drop down to a height about ten feet above our deck and then pull up along our port side at just above stalling speed. This meant he was overhauling us by around 12 knots before opening his throttle and going around. He did this three times and by now we were getting worried, as we knew by now he hadn’t the fuel to reach Gibraltar yet he still hadn’t given the signal that he intended to touch down. On his fourth approach we saw his observer start to signal us with his Aldus lamp and the Captain was about to order the ship to heave to when the Yeoman read out “Unable to land at sea or reach Gibraltar. Request Ship make maximum speed”.
Captain Swan turned to look at Dunning’s aircraft so fast his back cracked and after muttering a quiet bloody hell under his breath gave the order. He also ordered me to get two of our Marines and place Dunning under arrest as soon as his feet touched out deck. By now some hundred or so of the ships company were on deck watching the madman and wondering what on earth was going on, so realising what Dunning was up to I ordered them to clear the deck. With the ship now doing twenty knots Dunning’s observer signalled again and I heard the Marine Lance Corporal beside me laugh, “Cheeky Bastard, Request permission to come aboard, Swan’ll have ‘is balls for that.”
Dunning again came up alongside us but this time about one hundred feet behind the aft funnel he banked gently to starboard, straightened out over the deck, cut his engine and dropped down onto the deck and after sliding forwards for a short distance came to a halt.
I couldn’t believe the lunatic had actually done it. Sure in the wardroom we pilots had talked about the possibility of landing on board, but not in seaplanes, and not in the 184 with its radiator blocking the view forward. We must have all stood gapping for a good ten seconds before we were brought back to reality by the sound of our destroyer escorts horns and the flash of a camera forward. Giving myself a quick shake I ordered my two marine companions to come with me and as soon as I had made sure Dunning and the observer were alright apart from a justified silly grins on their faces officially arrested them and had the escorted to their quarters and confined their until Captain Swan sent for them.
Peg Leg
Damn, good job that Agent Orange put his comment in because I missed you're actual post!
Well, although not very good for the seaplane that makes clear the path ahead. Which gives big advantages to both carrier and a/c performance when adopted.
Would the pilot be the same Dunning who OTL was one of the pioneers of early carrier operations OTL?
Steve
Damn, good job that Agent Orange put his comment in because I missed you're actual post!
Well, although not very good for the seaplane that makes clear the path ahead. Which gives big advantages to both carrier and a/c performance when adopted.
Would the pilot be the same Dunning who OTL was one of the pioneers of early carrier operations OTL?
Steve
Chapter 5
Part 3
Having seen to Dunning’s and his observer Sub Lt Peters’s confinement to quarters I returned to the bridge and was not surprised at the feeling of cold fury coming from Captain Swan, or that as soon as I entered the chart house he snapped.
“Price, those two mad men confined to quarters, or in the Brig.”
“Quarters Sir”
“Pity, when I’ve finished with them they’ll wish they were in parkhurst. Leave them to sweat for the rest of the day and then bring them to my cabin just before the defaulters. I’ll deal with them then. Make sure that they only get cold meals and water till then.”
“Aye Aye Sir.” I said coming to attention.
“Right then get down to the hanger and tell them I want that aircraft thoroughly checked before they go off watch. God knows what that stunt’s done to it, and I’ll not risk anyone’s life in it till we’re sure it won’t fall apart in the air.”
When I got down to the hanger I found that they were already going over Dunning’s aircraft and that by the way the officer on duty was scribbling in his note book there was a fair amount of damage. Fortunately for Dunning the aircraft itself was reasonably sound, but the floats and their support struts had suffered. The starboard float had a split panel and two of its struts were cracked as was one of the struts on the port side float. Several of the bracing wires had snapped on the wings, and as I was talking to the Flight engineering officer Lt Cmdr Steward one of the riggers was cutting open the port side wing to check for internal damage.
“Well” I said “How bad is it likely to be?”
“I don’t know yet Rich” he said shaking his head “I aught to have those two here while we’re checking her out. But with luck and a bit of hard work we’ll get her back in the air. What the hell were those two madmen thinking, the 184’s a good machine by all accounts but she’s not designed to land on a solid surface. They’re damn lucky not to have killed themselves.” Charles Steward was beginning to steam at the ears.
“Don’t worry Charles” I said with a half hearted chuckle “by the time the Captains through with them they’ll be ready to do just about anything to get away from him. I’ve never seen a captain that angry that didn’t involve the guilty parties spending time in the glasshouse. Hopefully by the time he sees them in the morning he’ll have calmed down, otherwise they’ll be spending the rest of the war as stokers.”
I was still in the hanger when we felt the ships engines stop as we came up on our moorings in Gibraltar.
“Right then” I said “I’ll leave you and your lads to it. I’ve got to see a man about two men I want shot of and I can’t think of a better place to send them than the Trawler mine sweepers. There’s a chap in the Admirals office that owes me a few favours.”
I did manage to get rid of my two malcontents and got good replacements for them, but it took a lot of pink gin to do it and I didn’t return to the ship till gone three. As the captains habit was to hold captains defaulters at 8.30 I was not exactly feeling charitable when I when to fetch Dunning and Peters at 7.45. My head felt like the whole Grand Fleet was exercising their guns behind my eyes and I knew that there would be a lot of shouting, but never let it be said that I shirked my duty so with four marines I went and rousted the two out of bed. I was disappointed to find that they were both already up and in uniform but prisoners and escort arrived at the Captains office not only on time but with a good five minutes to spare. At the captains orders they were treated exactly like ratings that were facing Captains defaulters so they were marched in between their escorts to face judgement. From what I could tell Captain Swann was no happier with them now than yesterday afternoon, and I was mentally preparing myself to send two more officers to a Courts Martial. For a good three minutes the Captain stared coldly at the two hapless birdmen and to them it must have seemed like three hours before Captain Swann Spoke.
“I suppose you two think that harebrained stunt yesterday was clever? Well gentlemen, and I use the term loosely it wasn’t. You not only endangered your own lives but those of every man in this ship. Had you crashed as you deserved you funeral pyre could have set the deck alight and with the ready flight stored below, you remember those you idiots the aircraft that have been fuelled and armed ready for a quick launch if needed. The aircraft that would not only have burned with you but likely exploded, possibly spreading the fire into the hold with the petrol in. God you two lunatics could have killed every man jack on this ship. These gentlemen” he said indicating a pile of papers on his desk “are Courts Martial papers”
Dunning and Peters went white. “S Sir,” Dunning started to speak.
“Shut your mouth Lieutenant Dunning, I have no interest in your feeble excuses. If you hadn’t been so criminally stupid you would have known that you had more than enough fuel to reach Gibraltar. I fact judging by the look on your face you knew damn well you could and just wanted to secure a place in the history books. Christ if I had my way the pair of you would be off to the trenches so fast your boots wouldn’t catch up with you until 1930.”
At that the two officer’s heads and mine came up.
“That right you two idiots, unfortunately word of your stunt has already reached the international press so the Admiral has ordered me to drop the charges. Wipe those disgusting grins off your faces I might have to drop the charges but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, oh no. You two are ordered to report to the Port Admirals office where you will meet the press. You are to tell them nothing about this ship or why you were flying, if asked your response will be I’m sorry I can’t discuss that. You are to say that your landing was due to a mechanical problem that was soon rectified and that no that it is not customary to land aircraft directly onto this ship. Is that understood?”
“Yes Sir”
“You’d better make the most of this reception Gentlemen because once you return to this ship you will have no time to go ashore. You two are going to be spending your time when we are in port in the engine and boiler rooms doing every dirty and physically hard job the Chief Engineer can find for you, and you can forget about flying for the next two months as you will be working in the hanger as general dogs bodies.”
“Right Price get these two morons out of my sight”
I held back as they were marched out wanting a word with the Captain.
“Alright price what can I do for you? You obviously want something.”
“Well sir, when I spoke to Lt Cmdr Steward before going ashore he told me that the aircraft those two were flying in was basically alright but that the floats and struts were damaged”
“Yes Price I know what of it?”
“I was thinking if we report it as been so badly damaged that it needs rebuilding, we can break out one of the reserve aircraft and convert the damaged one into a land plane. What those two did was prove that an aircraft could land on a ship at sea, had it not been on floats there probably would have been no damage at all.”
“Go on Price”
“The aircraft we have are limited in performance because of the floats as land planes we could work more efficiently, and without the need to stop to recover aircraft we could work with the fleet”
“Alright Price I’ll go along with your scheme for now, the damaged aircraft will be transferred to your flight. You orders give you more lee way for this sort of thing, just make sure you get Admiral Johnson to sign off on it when we reach Alexandria. There’s a price to pay though young man. When those two lunatics finish their unofficial sentence I’m going to have them assigned to you. Maybe you and Admiral Johnson can keep harness their adventurism and make something of them.”
“Yes Sir, with your permission” I said coming to attention.
“Dismissed Price, and I recommend two aspirin and several glasses of Orange Juice for the hangover”.
Part 3
Having seen to Dunning’s and his observer Sub Lt Peters’s confinement to quarters I returned to the bridge and was not surprised at the feeling of cold fury coming from Captain Swan, or that as soon as I entered the chart house he snapped.
“Price, those two mad men confined to quarters, or in the Brig.”
“Quarters Sir”
“Pity, when I’ve finished with them they’ll wish they were in parkhurst. Leave them to sweat for the rest of the day and then bring them to my cabin just before the defaulters. I’ll deal with them then. Make sure that they only get cold meals and water till then.”
“Aye Aye Sir.” I said coming to attention.
“Right then get down to the hanger and tell them I want that aircraft thoroughly checked before they go off watch. God knows what that stunt’s done to it, and I’ll not risk anyone’s life in it till we’re sure it won’t fall apart in the air.”
When I got down to the hanger I found that they were already going over Dunning’s aircraft and that by the way the officer on duty was scribbling in his note book there was a fair amount of damage. Fortunately for Dunning the aircraft itself was reasonably sound, but the floats and their support struts had suffered. The starboard float had a split panel and two of its struts were cracked as was one of the struts on the port side float. Several of the bracing wires had snapped on the wings, and as I was talking to the Flight engineering officer Lt Cmdr Steward one of the riggers was cutting open the port side wing to check for internal damage.
“Well” I said “How bad is it likely to be?”
“I don’t know yet Rich” he said shaking his head “I aught to have those two here while we’re checking her out. But with luck and a bit of hard work we’ll get her back in the air. What the hell were those two madmen thinking, the 184’s a good machine by all accounts but she’s not designed to land on a solid surface. They’re damn lucky not to have killed themselves.” Charles Steward was beginning to steam at the ears.
“Don’t worry Charles” I said with a half hearted chuckle “by the time the Captains through with them they’ll be ready to do just about anything to get away from him. I’ve never seen a captain that angry that didn’t involve the guilty parties spending time in the glasshouse. Hopefully by the time he sees them in the morning he’ll have calmed down, otherwise they’ll be spending the rest of the war as stokers.”
I was still in the hanger when we felt the ships engines stop as we came up on our moorings in Gibraltar.
“Right then” I said “I’ll leave you and your lads to it. I’ve got to see a man about two men I want shot of and I can’t think of a better place to send them than the Trawler mine sweepers. There’s a chap in the Admirals office that owes me a few favours.”
I did manage to get rid of my two malcontents and got good replacements for them, but it took a lot of pink gin to do it and I didn’t return to the ship till gone three. As the captains habit was to hold captains defaulters at 8.30 I was not exactly feeling charitable when I when to fetch Dunning and Peters at 7.45. My head felt like the whole Grand Fleet was exercising their guns behind my eyes and I knew that there would be a lot of shouting, but never let it be said that I shirked my duty so with four marines I went and rousted the two out of bed. I was disappointed to find that they were both already up and in uniform but prisoners and escort arrived at the Captains office not only on time but with a good five minutes to spare. At the captains orders they were treated exactly like ratings that were facing Captains defaulters so they were marched in between their escorts to face judgement. From what I could tell Captain Swann was no happier with them now than yesterday afternoon, and I was mentally preparing myself to send two more officers to a Courts Martial. For a good three minutes the Captain stared coldly at the two hapless birdmen and to them it must have seemed like three hours before Captain Swann Spoke.
“I suppose you two think that harebrained stunt yesterday was clever? Well gentlemen, and I use the term loosely it wasn’t. You not only endangered your own lives but those of every man in this ship. Had you crashed as you deserved you funeral pyre could have set the deck alight and with the ready flight stored below, you remember those you idiots the aircraft that have been fuelled and armed ready for a quick launch if needed. The aircraft that would not only have burned with you but likely exploded, possibly spreading the fire into the hold with the petrol in. God you two lunatics could have killed every man jack on this ship. These gentlemen” he said indicating a pile of papers on his desk “are Courts Martial papers”
Dunning and Peters went white. “S Sir,” Dunning started to speak.
“Shut your mouth Lieutenant Dunning, I have no interest in your feeble excuses. If you hadn’t been so criminally stupid you would have known that you had more than enough fuel to reach Gibraltar. I fact judging by the look on your face you knew damn well you could and just wanted to secure a place in the history books. Christ if I had my way the pair of you would be off to the trenches so fast your boots wouldn’t catch up with you until 1930.”
At that the two officer’s heads and mine came up.
“That right you two idiots, unfortunately word of your stunt has already reached the international press so the Admiral has ordered me to drop the charges. Wipe those disgusting grins off your faces I might have to drop the charges but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, oh no. You two are ordered to report to the Port Admirals office where you will meet the press. You are to tell them nothing about this ship or why you were flying, if asked your response will be I’m sorry I can’t discuss that. You are to say that your landing was due to a mechanical problem that was soon rectified and that no that it is not customary to land aircraft directly onto this ship. Is that understood?”
“Yes Sir”
“You’d better make the most of this reception Gentlemen because once you return to this ship you will have no time to go ashore. You two are going to be spending your time when we are in port in the engine and boiler rooms doing every dirty and physically hard job the Chief Engineer can find for you, and you can forget about flying for the next two months as you will be working in the hanger as general dogs bodies.”
“Right Price get these two morons out of my sight”
I held back as they were marched out wanting a word with the Captain.
“Alright price what can I do for you? You obviously want something.”
“Well sir, when I spoke to Lt Cmdr Steward before going ashore he told me that the aircraft those two were flying in was basically alright but that the floats and struts were damaged”
“Yes Price I know what of it?”
“I was thinking if we report it as been so badly damaged that it needs rebuilding, we can break out one of the reserve aircraft and convert the damaged one into a land plane. What those two did was prove that an aircraft could land on a ship at sea, had it not been on floats there probably would have been no damage at all.”
“Go on Price”
“The aircraft we have are limited in performance because of the floats as land planes we could work more efficiently, and without the need to stop to recover aircraft we could work with the fleet”
“Alright Price I’ll go along with your scheme for now, the damaged aircraft will be transferred to your flight. You orders give you more lee way for this sort of thing, just make sure you get Admiral Johnson to sign off on it when we reach Alexandria. There’s a price to pay though young man. When those two lunatics finish their unofficial sentence I’m going to have them assigned to you. Maybe you and Admiral Johnson can keep harness their adventurism and make something of them.”
“Yes Sir, with your permission” I said coming to attention.
“Dismissed Price, and I recommend two aspirin and several glasses of Orange Juice for the hangover”.
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Peg Leg
Progressing nicely for getting proper carrier a/c advanced more rapidly. With a bit of luck that could really start changing things as early as Jutland. Possibly even a chance of making the naval bombardment at Gallipoli work as planned, although that would be pushing it.
The down side is that you might get something like the planned 1919 attack on the German fleet, which would really make other nations aware of the potential. Mind you if you avoid the forming of the RAF, or at least keep the FAA under naval control Britain could still come out a lot better.
Was Dunning that reckless? I can't remember the details but presumed that, OTL, it was a planned landing. Hadn't really considered how destructive it could have been for the carrier as a whole.
Love the last line from the captain.
Steve
Progressing nicely for getting proper carrier a/c advanced more rapidly. With a bit of luck that could really start changing things as early as Jutland. Possibly even a chance of making the naval bombardment at Gallipoli work as planned, although that would be pushing it.
The down side is that you might get something like the planned 1919 attack on the German fleet, which would really make other nations aware of the potential. Mind you if you avoid the forming of the RAF, or at least keep the FAA under naval control Britain could still come out a lot better.
Was Dunning that reckless? I can't remember the details but presumed that, OTL, it was a planned landing. Hadn't really considered how destructive it could have been for the carrier as a whole.
Love the last line from the captain.
Steve
A delightful account...
...Believable move to the landing. Dunning is in excellent hands. I'd prefer a drogue chute to a hook and arrestor wire, but that's personal taste.
Research showing - 'The Cruel Sea' allusion with the lifeboat, and did I detect a reference to my 'Courageous Madmen' ?
Devilish good writing, PLP...Nice to see someone getting research and a storyline together so well. Captain Swan adds to the realism.
Awaiting your next tranche with barely-controllable impatience.
...Believable move to the landing. Dunning is in excellent hands. I'd prefer a drogue chute to a hook and arrestor wire, but that's personal taste.
Research showing - 'The Cruel Sea' allusion with the lifeboat, and did I detect a reference to my 'Courageous Madmen' ?
Devilish good writing, PLP...Nice to see someone getting research and a storyline together so well. Captain Swan adds to the realism.
Awaiting your next tranche with barely-controllable impatience.
Chapter 6
Part 1
After I left Captain Swan’s office I did indeed follow his advice and eventually felt much better for it. I have the feeling that he knew why I had wound up tying one on the night before. I sincerely doubt he would have been sympathetic if it hadn’t been in the line of duty. The rest of the morning passed in the usual tedium of paper work, never my favourite thing to do.
Just after 11 I was summonsed back to the Captains office and informed that the ammunition lighter would be coming alongside in twenty minutes with a load 9.2 and 7.5 inch shells and more or less politely asked what the bloody hell was going on. This was the first that I’d heard of it and when I mentioned that fact the look I received should have burned a hole right through my head and the bulkhead behind me. After a few pointed remarks about the benefits of letting those who need to know, know what’s going I was sent packing off to the radio room to find out. When I got there is soon found out why no one knew of the delivery. There had been a long message for both the Captain and I but it was in code and the Officer who had the key to the safe had gone ashore with it in his pocket. Needless to say the Captain was not best pleased when informed of this, neither was I or the number 1 for that matter. When we found out the cipher officer had not only gone ashore but over the border into Spain we had to hand the matter over to the Port Admiral’s people, and inform London that that code may have been compromised. Still that was for others to deal with I had the matter of the shells to sort out.
What I couldn’t work out was what we were supposed to do with the damn things, we had no proper magazine to store them in, and you had to be careful with Lyddite. If not carefully stored the stuff had been known to spontaneously combust, which might have caused some minor difficulty with our buoyancy. The holds were no good as they were not only full but hot enough to make the shells sweat, which was not good for either the shells or the ship. In the end much to the disgust of the ships supply officer 24 9.2” shells and 50 7.5” were safely put under lock and key in the meat locker.
I had just finished with that little matter when I was informed that our Cipher Officer had been detained and that someone from Headquarters would be arriving shortly to search his cabin and collect his belongings. Hopefully he would also bring the key so we could find out what the shells were for. It was not to be however so a runner was sent to fetch it while we went through Lieutenant Rogers’s belongings. As far as I could tell there was nothing more incriminating than a set of dirty postcards stuffed inside his locker, nothing any officer wouldn’t find during an inspection. The, I presume counter intelligence officer seemed quite interest in them though.
Finally three hours after the ammunition lighter pulled away from our side the key was returned to us and we were able to decode the vital signal. We were simply to carry them to Alexandria. All that fuss and bother about a simple transfer of ammunition. It did beg the question though, why use us to move the shells? Obviously someone had been caught hopping and arranged for them to be sent on the first ship regardless of its suitability for the task.
The exercise was not completely without benefit though, that evening Pat Davis, Lieutenant Stevens and I were talking in the wardroom, sharing stories of similar storms in tea cups when Pat jokingly said “I hope there’s some star shells in that shipment after your jaunt to Weymouth and back last week”.
“What? I’m not following you Pat”
“Surely you haven’t forgotten your photographic career already”
“Oh that” Stevens moaned “waste of time. Those piddling little fla. Ah!”
“And the penny drops.” Pat said as he lent back and signalled to the steward.
“Now now Pat, no need to gloat. It’s not like you would have done any better in the dark.” In truth what he was suggesting was so obvious that I was surprised I’d missed it.
“Right then, if we have two aircraft like before, one with the camera and the other the Star Shells.”
“Hang on sirs, how do we set them off? Come to think of it what’s in the damn things anyway.”
“John” I said in “off duty with none of the men around it’s Rich”
“And Pat”.
“Yes si-. Sorry. That’s going to take some getting used to”.
“Right then Pat I see what you’re getting at but are Star shells something we want to mess about with. If one goes off before we drop it, it’s all over”
“John I don’t know I’m just a flyer. Rich is the one passed through Whale Island’s gunnery school.”
“Afraid I don’t know either” I said “but someone over on the Minotaur will. She’s in for a boiler clean so no danger of her leaving during the night. You and I Lieutenant Stevens will be paying her a call first thing tomorrow so if we want to make a good impression we’d better make it tea for the rest of the night.”
Bright and early next morning John Stevens and I were just about to head to shore when a runner stopped us with orders to report to the Bridge. Neither of us could think of a reason for the summons but orders are orders so after waving off the pinnace that was heading our way we reported to the Bridge. Once there the Captain fixed us with a piercing look and demanded to know where we were going when the ship was due to sail in under two hours. Somehow that little snippet of information had passed us bye the night before. Hastily we explained that we were not off on a jolly but wished to speak to the gunnery officer on the Minotaur about an idea that had come up the night before about converting star shells into fares to be dropped from aircraft.
“Ah, all right gentlemen carry on but if you’re not back I’ll sail without you.”
“Sir” I Said “why don’t we have one of my aircraft towed over to the slipway and we’ll catch you up latter? We’ll fly a standard patrol from here and come aboard at the same time as the regular patrol.”
The Captain thought for a moment “Alright gentlemen I don’t like it, but if you think it that important go ahead. But if you finish up before we sail you’ll fly the full patrol I’ll not delay departure just to pick you up. And Price I want to see you in my office two minutes after you come on board. Is that understood?”
“Aye Aye sir” I had a feeling that discussion would be unpleasant.
The day didn’t get much better when we towed the aircraft over to the slipway. Because the ship was due to sail the boilers in the ships steam pinnace were cold so we had to have one of the whaleboats tow us over and the men on the oars made us well aware of how they felt about their unexpected exertions. Dumb insolence is what it was, every time we crossed a boats wake they “accidentally” managed to send an oar full of oily water onto our trousers. Wet woollen trousers on a two hour flight in an open cockpit that was going to be fun. To make it worse the Captain obviously shared their opinion of us and would no doubt express it at great length when we returned to the ship.
When we went on board the Minotaur the ships number 1 was not impressed with us dripping oily water over his nice clean deck. We were about as popular that day as a Catholic Priest in an Orange Order lodge. The gunnery officer who had been about to go ashore himself wasn’t that happy to have to answer questions from two in his opinion useless pilots pretending to be officers and quickly passed us off to his warrant officer assistant who it was our misfortune to discover had been one of the instructors at Whale Island and remembered me from my time there. Oh he answered our questions quickly enough but then proceeded to give us both a three hour refresher course in the proper handling of live shells and why the meat locker is not a suitable substitute for a magazine. The gist of it was we could do what we wanted but it would probably be best to dismantle the shell rather than drop the whole thing and it would be best if we didn’t do it ourselves but got a competent armourer to rig the flares. When we left the Warrant Officer we found the Minotaur’s Captain wanted to see us, and were treated to a full and frank discussion on why Officers even if they are flyers should be properly turned out at all times, and that they should never whatever the reason just pop round seeking information they should already know and disrupt the smooth running of his ship again.
The only thing that went right that day was our aircraft started easily enough and I didn’t lose my footing and fall into the prop when it did. The sea once we got out of the harbour was choppy and made getting airborne an interesting experience. For a while there I thought we were going to turn over but we managed to stagger into the air and set off in pursuit of our ship. Not really a problem you might think aeroplanes are faster than ships and she only had an hour and a half head start. Trouble was we were heading into a steadily increasing headwind and the 184 with its big floats wasn’t exactly a racer. It took us nearly an hour to reach her and with the way the sea seemed to be getting up I was beginning to think that we might have to copy Lt Dunning’s escapade which judging by the way the day was going would not go down well with the captain.
It seems the Captain was one step ahead of us as when we reached Campania the yeoman on the bridge started signalling us by Aldis lamp.
“SEA STATE RISING. PATROL ALREADY ONBOARD. LAND ON DECK”
Oh Christ. I thought, don’t let me muck up.
John Stevens turned round white faced after reading that signal, it was obvious he was no more certain of success than I was. Still it was this or ditch and with what looked like six foot waves I didn’t think we’d make it. This wasn’t going to be as easy as Dunning made it look. Like Dunning I flew along the port side as slow as I dared but it was clear if I was going to get down safely I would have to touch down as close to the ships centre point a possible. As I as gently as possible turned in over the deck we were caught in some sort of turbulence and had to break off and try again. Three times I tried to land on and in the same spot got bounced around. I first thought it was just a badly timed gust of wind but once is an accident, twice a coincidence but three times is manmade. Now low on fuel and badly shaken I came in for a fourth attempt, if this didn’t work I’d have to risk ditching. There was no time for perfection so silently saying the Lord’s Prayer I turned in waited till the buffeting eased slightly and chopped the throttle right back. With a jolt we touched the deck and slid forwards. As we came to a stop I gut the magneto switch and gave a silent “Thank You Lord” as John rapidly climbed out of the aircraft and dashed to the ships lee side where he promptly threw up. I wasn’t that far from doing the same, only the presence of Captain Swan offering me his hip flask allowed me to keep control of my stomach. As I gave the flask back he said,
“I was going to read you the riot act but after that I think you’ve learned you lesson. You and Stevens get below and cleaned up and I’ll see you both at 10 tomorrow morning.”
Part 1
After I left Captain Swan’s office I did indeed follow his advice and eventually felt much better for it. I have the feeling that he knew why I had wound up tying one on the night before. I sincerely doubt he would have been sympathetic if it hadn’t been in the line of duty. The rest of the morning passed in the usual tedium of paper work, never my favourite thing to do.
Just after 11 I was summonsed back to the Captains office and informed that the ammunition lighter would be coming alongside in twenty minutes with a load 9.2 and 7.5 inch shells and more or less politely asked what the bloody hell was going on. This was the first that I’d heard of it and when I mentioned that fact the look I received should have burned a hole right through my head and the bulkhead behind me. After a few pointed remarks about the benefits of letting those who need to know, know what’s going I was sent packing off to the radio room to find out. When I got there is soon found out why no one knew of the delivery. There had been a long message for both the Captain and I but it was in code and the Officer who had the key to the safe had gone ashore with it in his pocket. Needless to say the Captain was not best pleased when informed of this, neither was I or the number 1 for that matter. When we found out the cipher officer had not only gone ashore but over the border into Spain we had to hand the matter over to the Port Admiral’s people, and inform London that that code may have been compromised. Still that was for others to deal with I had the matter of the shells to sort out.
What I couldn’t work out was what we were supposed to do with the damn things, we had no proper magazine to store them in, and you had to be careful with Lyddite. If not carefully stored the stuff had been known to spontaneously combust, which might have caused some minor difficulty with our buoyancy. The holds were no good as they were not only full but hot enough to make the shells sweat, which was not good for either the shells or the ship. In the end much to the disgust of the ships supply officer 24 9.2” shells and 50 7.5” were safely put under lock and key in the meat locker.
I had just finished with that little matter when I was informed that our Cipher Officer had been detained and that someone from Headquarters would be arriving shortly to search his cabin and collect his belongings. Hopefully he would also bring the key so we could find out what the shells were for. It was not to be however so a runner was sent to fetch it while we went through Lieutenant Rogers’s belongings. As far as I could tell there was nothing more incriminating than a set of dirty postcards stuffed inside his locker, nothing any officer wouldn’t find during an inspection. The, I presume counter intelligence officer seemed quite interest in them though.
Finally three hours after the ammunition lighter pulled away from our side the key was returned to us and we were able to decode the vital signal. We were simply to carry them to Alexandria. All that fuss and bother about a simple transfer of ammunition. It did beg the question though, why use us to move the shells? Obviously someone had been caught hopping and arranged for them to be sent on the first ship regardless of its suitability for the task.
The exercise was not completely without benefit though, that evening Pat Davis, Lieutenant Stevens and I were talking in the wardroom, sharing stories of similar storms in tea cups when Pat jokingly said “I hope there’s some star shells in that shipment after your jaunt to Weymouth and back last week”.
“What? I’m not following you Pat”
“Surely you haven’t forgotten your photographic career already”
“Oh that” Stevens moaned “waste of time. Those piddling little fla. Ah!”
“And the penny drops.” Pat said as he lent back and signalled to the steward.
“Now now Pat, no need to gloat. It’s not like you would have done any better in the dark.” In truth what he was suggesting was so obvious that I was surprised I’d missed it.
“Right then, if we have two aircraft like before, one with the camera and the other the Star Shells.”
“Hang on sirs, how do we set them off? Come to think of it what’s in the damn things anyway.”
“John” I said in “off duty with none of the men around it’s Rich”
“And Pat”.
“Yes si-. Sorry. That’s going to take some getting used to”.
“Right then Pat I see what you’re getting at but are Star shells something we want to mess about with. If one goes off before we drop it, it’s all over”
“John I don’t know I’m just a flyer. Rich is the one passed through Whale Island’s gunnery school.”
“Afraid I don’t know either” I said “but someone over on the Minotaur will. She’s in for a boiler clean so no danger of her leaving during the night. You and I Lieutenant Stevens will be paying her a call first thing tomorrow so if we want to make a good impression we’d better make it tea for the rest of the night.”
Bright and early next morning John Stevens and I were just about to head to shore when a runner stopped us with orders to report to the Bridge. Neither of us could think of a reason for the summons but orders are orders so after waving off the pinnace that was heading our way we reported to the Bridge. Once there the Captain fixed us with a piercing look and demanded to know where we were going when the ship was due to sail in under two hours. Somehow that little snippet of information had passed us bye the night before. Hastily we explained that we were not off on a jolly but wished to speak to the gunnery officer on the Minotaur about an idea that had come up the night before about converting star shells into fares to be dropped from aircraft.
“Ah, all right gentlemen carry on but if you’re not back I’ll sail without you.”
“Sir” I Said “why don’t we have one of my aircraft towed over to the slipway and we’ll catch you up latter? We’ll fly a standard patrol from here and come aboard at the same time as the regular patrol.”
The Captain thought for a moment “Alright gentlemen I don’t like it, but if you think it that important go ahead. But if you finish up before we sail you’ll fly the full patrol I’ll not delay departure just to pick you up. And Price I want to see you in my office two minutes after you come on board. Is that understood?”
“Aye Aye sir” I had a feeling that discussion would be unpleasant.
The day didn’t get much better when we towed the aircraft over to the slipway. Because the ship was due to sail the boilers in the ships steam pinnace were cold so we had to have one of the whaleboats tow us over and the men on the oars made us well aware of how they felt about their unexpected exertions. Dumb insolence is what it was, every time we crossed a boats wake they “accidentally” managed to send an oar full of oily water onto our trousers. Wet woollen trousers on a two hour flight in an open cockpit that was going to be fun. To make it worse the Captain obviously shared their opinion of us and would no doubt express it at great length when we returned to the ship.
When we went on board the Minotaur the ships number 1 was not impressed with us dripping oily water over his nice clean deck. We were about as popular that day as a Catholic Priest in an Orange Order lodge. The gunnery officer who had been about to go ashore himself wasn’t that happy to have to answer questions from two in his opinion useless pilots pretending to be officers and quickly passed us off to his warrant officer assistant who it was our misfortune to discover had been one of the instructors at Whale Island and remembered me from my time there. Oh he answered our questions quickly enough but then proceeded to give us both a three hour refresher course in the proper handling of live shells and why the meat locker is not a suitable substitute for a magazine. The gist of it was we could do what we wanted but it would probably be best to dismantle the shell rather than drop the whole thing and it would be best if we didn’t do it ourselves but got a competent armourer to rig the flares. When we left the Warrant Officer we found the Minotaur’s Captain wanted to see us, and were treated to a full and frank discussion on why Officers even if they are flyers should be properly turned out at all times, and that they should never whatever the reason just pop round seeking information they should already know and disrupt the smooth running of his ship again.
The only thing that went right that day was our aircraft started easily enough and I didn’t lose my footing and fall into the prop when it did. The sea once we got out of the harbour was choppy and made getting airborne an interesting experience. For a while there I thought we were going to turn over but we managed to stagger into the air and set off in pursuit of our ship. Not really a problem you might think aeroplanes are faster than ships and she only had an hour and a half head start. Trouble was we were heading into a steadily increasing headwind and the 184 with its big floats wasn’t exactly a racer. It took us nearly an hour to reach her and with the way the sea seemed to be getting up I was beginning to think that we might have to copy Lt Dunning’s escapade which judging by the way the day was going would not go down well with the captain.
It seems the Captain was one step ahead of us as when we reached Campania the yeoman on the bridge started signalling us by Aldis lamp.
“SEA STATE RISING. PATROL ALREADY ONBOARD. LAND ON DECK”
Oh Christ. I thought, don’t let me muck up.
John Stevens turned round white faced after reading that signal, it was obvious he was no more certain of success than I was. Still it was this or ditch and with what looked like six foot waves I didn’t think we’d make it. This wasn’t going to be as easy as Dunning made it look. Like Dunning I flew along the port side as slow as I dared but it was clear if I was going to get down safely I would have to touch down as close to the ships centre point a possible. As I as gently as possible turned in over the deck we were caught in some sort of turbulence and had to break off and try again. Three times I tried to land on and in the same spot got bounced around. I first thought it was just a badly timed gust of wind but once is an accident, twice a coincidence but three times is manmade. Now low on fuel and badly shaken I came in for a fourth attempt, if this didn’t work I’d have to risk ditching. There was no time for perfection so silently saying the Lord’s Prayer I turned in waited till the buffeting eased slightly and chopped the throttle right back. With a jolt we touched the deck and slid forwards. As we came to a stop I gut the magneto switch and gave a silent “Thank You Lord” as John rapidly climbed out of the aircraft and dashed to the ships lee side where he promptly threw up. I wasn’t that far from doing the same, only the presence of Captain Swan offering me his hip flask allowed me to keep control of my stomach. As I gave the flask back he said,
“I was going to read you the riot act but after that I think you’ve learned you lesson. You and Stevens get below and cleaned up and I’ll see you both at 10 tomorrow morning.”
In case anyone wonders why I'm having the pilots pull up alongside Campania before easing in over the flight deck instead of aproaching from the stern, this is a picture of the Short 184 Seaplane.
Well, that looks like pilot friendly engineering. Awesome visibility they build in there.
Is there some sort of mandatory requirement to make life difficult for the RN's aviators? I mean you only have to look at the Air Ministry and the RAF in WWII, or the current 'carriers without planes' debacle to see that it appears to be handed on from generation to generation of civil servants...
Naval aviation offends the Civil Service mentality. The Navy is supposed to be about boats. Boats don't fly so the Navy shouldn't and must be punished for having the temerity to ignore this obvious rule. The funds the Navy wastes on this stuben flouting of the natural order should be spent on more important things. Necessities like a pay rise for poor overworked Civil servants.
Chapter 6
Part 2
The weather continued to deteriorate during the day and by that evening had become a full blown storm, something unusual for the Mediterranean in July. There was no chance of anyone flying until the weather improved unless it was a real emergency. Oh we could have taken off from the flying off deck but there was no way we could have landed at sea, and to attempt to land on the deck would be suicide. There’s no way that the floats would have survived the attempt and a crash would be inevitable and in all probability fatal. So long as we flew Sea Planes we were severely restricted in the conditions it was safe to fly.
I wondered down to the Hanger deck to see for myself what damage my aircraft had sustained when we landed on deck. When I had last seen the aircraft the damage hadn’t looked too bad, in fact it had looked to be less damaged than Dunning’s machine, however when I saw her in the hanger it was obvious there was a lot more damage than I thought. Charles Steward our aircraft engineering officer came up to me and giving me a look that promised a painful death said.
“Well Price, you’ve buggered this machine right up. She’s a complete write off. When we went to put her on the handling trolley the port float came away along with half the bracing wires. We could have fixed that with some effort but the fuselage frame works shattered. You broke her back. Brand spanking new and you wrecked her, still at least the engines alright. God one weeks patrolling and we’ve already used half the reserve aircraft as replacements. If it wasn’t for the fact you were ordered to land on I’d have you assembling the replacement aircraft”
It was perhaps not the best time to ask if he’d had any ideas about converting a 184 to land plane, and though his words made the paint on the bulkheads blister I couldn’t help but be impressed at his vocabulary, I’m sure I heard some Russian as well as German, Latin, ancient Greek and to my surprise Cantonese. Having understood most of what he said I was tempted to get a bar of soap to wash his mouth out but judging by the looks on their faces his mechanics would have rallied to his defence so I let it go. Charles didn’t get of scot free though, the Padre was passing through the hanger at the time and not only heard but understood what he was saying. At services the next Sunday Charles was treated to a 45 minute sermon on the need to keep a civil tongue in our heads and not to take the Lords name in vain. All the time the Padre was looking straight at Charles and the crew knew it.
Any way by the next morning the storm had blown itself out and flying resumed that afternoon. It was that afternoon when the ship sustained her first casualties, something Pat Davis and I blamed ourselves for. The first two patrol flights had gone off without a hitch though the weather was still a little rough and the third flight was being made ready when it happened. The second of the two aircraft was been started when as the young mechanic pulled the prop down to get the engine to catch the bow started to rise and he lost his footing. If as is often the case the engine did not fire up the lad would have suffered no more than a few jeers from his mates. Unfortunately the engine did catch and he fell into the propeller. His arms were severed cleanly above the elbows and his face was shaved off as if by a razor. It would have been a blessing if he had been killed instantly but he held on for 15 minutes of hellish agony before slipping away. I think the doc was very generous with the morphine and while I normally would have been horrified at such actions, but in this case there was nothing the Doctor could do but ease his passing. It was not the last time that I saw a doctor help a dying man like that. Years later I would wake screaming after dreaming of that day with only the dying man changing, sometimes it was the young mechanic that died, others friends and family and occasionally myself. Only my sister Susan could help me with those nightmares as she had seen similar sights and on a few occasions had been the one to help the dying, consequently she had nightmares of her own.
Looking back it might seem callous but as soon as the unfortunate ordinary seaman Burns had been taken below the aircraft was sent on its patrol without changing crews. The Captain insisted on it for two reasons, we needed to keep a lookout for enemy submarines and he didn’t want to give the flight crew time to think about what had happened. It was a hard choice but I think the right one. From time to time in the Navy accidents happen and I had seen more than one instance where after a well meaning officer let the witnesses off duty early only to see men break down after having time to brood, whereas in similar instances where the officers ordered men to carry on as normal the witnesses recovered from the shock well.
It was on that journey from Gibraltar that I spotted my first submarine though it was a French one. The storm had passed and the sea was flat calm and a brilliant blue green. I had managed to sneak away from the ever present enemy that is paperwork and had replaced one of my very young Sub Lieutenants on an early morning patrol. After about an hour fifteen minutes in the air I spotted a shape moving through the water some three miles abreast of the Campania and I turned towards it to investigate. I could hardly believe what I was seeing but there clear as day was a Submarine apparently headed towards my ship. Not that amazing you might think as that was what I was supposed to be looking for, but you would be wrong. What amazed me was that I could clearly see this submarine as it travelled underwater. I had never realised quite how clear the Mediterranean Sea was. She wasn’t very deep just under periscope depth and travelling very slowly as all subs do underwater so after overflying the boat I tuned back in towards it and approaching from the stern had my observer drop two small 25lb bombs over the side of his cockpit. Luckily for me they dropped wide and well ahead of the boat detonating as they hit the water. The explosions must have rattled the Submarine’s captain as after raising his periscope to check for surface threats the boat surfaced to try to find out what the explosions were. They had no idea we were there. Anyway the Submarine surfaced and men swarmed up from below. It was almost comical when I saw one of the officers on her tiny bridge scan the horizon and after realising I was there spin back towards me with his binoculars and as it looked to me bark out orders to his crew to train their little 6pdr deck gun on me. Before they could fire on me one of her crew must have seen the Union Flag painted on my aircraft and the submarine below secured it’s gun. Puzzled I was just coming in for another bomb run when I saw a flag unfurled below. A large chill went down my back when I recognised it as a French Navy Battle ensign. It’s just as well I couldn’t hear what they were saying on that boat as I aborted my attack run as the expressions on the men’s faces left me with no illusions that it was complementary.
By the time I returned to the ship several telegrams had been received from the French Fleet asking just what we thought we were doing attacking our allies and calling for the aircrew responsible be Courts martiald. Luckily for me an apology and the miserable failure of my attack got me off the official hook. That didn’t stop reasonably good natured cat calls in the Wardroom that night though.