The Tattie Lads

by Ian Dear

  The weather, calm at first, deteriorated, and one by one the landing craft had to be abandoned long before they reached their destination. The troops aboard them transferred to the corvette, which landed them at Algiers, but too late for them to take part in its capture. Meanwhile, two British destroyers hooked up with the Thomas Stone, but found they were unable to tow her as she could not be steered; and it wasn’t until the St Day arrived at dawn the next morning to take over that the Thomas Stone at last reached the comparative safety of Algiers on 11 November.

  The Assurance class rescue tugs Hengist and Restive were also deployed for the North African landings and later took part in the Sicilian landings, as did the Lend-Lease Oriana and the Saint class St Monance. Hengist and the Lend-Lease Favorite were both at Salerno, and the Assurance class Prosperous did some good work at Anzio. On 24 January 1944, she went to the assistance of the destroyer USS Mayo, which had struck a mine while supporting the landings. The mine blew a hole in the destroyer’s side about twelve feet by twenty feet, killing several men, and the Prosperous towed her to Naples to be patched up. She also took the 7176-ton American store ship Hilary A Herbert, to Naples for repairs, after an aircraft crashed on to the store ship’s decks on 26 January. On 21 February, she worked with the American salvage tug USS Hopi to tow off an American landing craft, tank (LCT) from Green Beach, but they were heavily shelled and had to withdraw. They succeeded the next day and also assisted in refloating an American tug, USS Edenshaw, which had gone aground earlier.5

  One magazine reported:

  For D-Day and 41 days afterwards, the Prosperous never left the bombed and shelled anchorage. Throughout the beachhead’s hottest spells of bombardment the tug was hard at work towing landing-craft off the beaches, laying booms, and handling a dozen other jobs close inshore. Back in Naples [where she was based] and in a howling gale the Prosperous achieved one of her outstanding rescue jobs. Despite high seas she hauled a large merchant ship to the harbour entrance but found it impossible to shorten the tow, so the vessel was skilfully jockeyed into the port on a tow nearly a quarter-of-a-mile long…

  First Lieutenant of the Prosperous, Sub-Lt CA Turner of Dovercourt, has been with the ship since her commissioning. He checks the tug’s rescues on a score-board of national flags, each denoting a ship towed to safety. [Her Commanding Officer] Lt Lloyd has had long experience with rescue-tugs. He played a prominent part when the Dutch tug, Hudson, assisted in pulling a blazing ammunition ship out of Algiers nearly two years ago [see Chapter 8]. He served in HMS Superman, and took HMS Empire Denis into the beaches of Salerno.6

  Other rescue tugs involved in operations in the Mediterranean were the Lend-Lease vessels Mindful, Aspirant and Athlete, and the Assurance class Charon. All of them participated in the French Riviera landings, the last three being part of Delta Force’s ‘combat and firefighting group’.7

  Troopship casualties

  Another casualty of the North African landings was the 23,722-ton British troopship Strathallan. She was part of convoy KMF-5 from the Clyde to Oran when she was torpedoed in the early hours of 21 December 1942; aboard her were two hundred and ninety-six military officers, two hundred and forty-eight nurses, four thousand one hundred and twelve American and British army personnel and four hundred and sixty-five members of the crew. The torpedo struck the ship in the engine room on the port side. The master later wrote in his report:

  All lights failed and the ship listed 15 degrees to port at once. The explosion was very violent, throwing a huge column of water over the ship, and blowing No. 8 boat over the head of the davits, from where it could not be dislodged.8

  Fearing another torpedo, the master ordered the boats to be lowered, but after the damage had been inspected it was thought the ship would remain afloat, and he ordered them to return. As the pumps were holding their own, one of the escort destroyers started to tow the troopship towards land, while two other destroyers took off the troops and all but a skeleton crew. At 1pm, when it appeared very probable that the ship would reach Oran, the Assurance class rescue tug Restive (Lt DM Richards RNR) arrived from Gibraltar to help pump out the water in the engine room. But soon afterwards oil reached the troopship’s red-hot boilers. Flames shot high out of the funnel and continued to burn fiercely, stripping the paint from the funnel and ventilators.

  Fire hoses were passed from the Restive, and ammunition from a magazine on Strathallan’s ‘A’ Deck was jettisoned. The fire had broken out in several places, and the centre of the ship was soon ablaze. The master ordered the skeleton crew to abandon ship, and the Restive took over the tow from the destroyer, but at 4am the next morning, just twelve miles from Oran, Strathallan rolled over on to her side and sank. With more than five thousand men and women aboard her, it is amazing the casualties were so light: six members of the crew, five nurses and five soldiers died.

  The Strathallan was lucky to suffer such few casualties; the Rohna was not so fortunate. By the end of 1943, air attacks on convoys were becoming a more serious threat than U-boats, and on the afternoon of 26 November 1943 thirty German bombers, some of them armed with a new aerial weapon, the Henschel Hs 293 radio-guided glide bomb, attacked convoy KMF-26 some fifteen miles from Jijelli, Algeria. About sixty of the glider bombs were released, but because they were too difficult for the aircraft to handle, or could not be guided in properly because of the convoy’s intense A-A fire, the attack largely failed.

  One bomb did find its target. Released by a Heinkel 177 flying at about ten thousand feet, it homed in on the Rohna, a 8602-ton British troopship with almost two thousand people aboard, most of them US Army personnel. The bomb exploded on the port side aft of the funnel just above the waterline. Such was its power that it blew a seventy-five square foot hole on the other side of the ship, by the waterline, and an eyewitness from a nearby ship said he could see right through Rohna’s hull.

  The explosion rocked the ship and flooded her engine room, and started a fire in one of the holds. The fire quickly spread aft, causing heavy casualties among those on the troop decks below. It also destroyed six of the ship’s twenty-two lifeboats, and only eight were lowered safely into the water, but these became overloaded and quickly filled with water or turned over. However, most of the ship’s liferafts were launched, and hatch covers were also thrown overboard.

  Survivors later told horrific stories of the wounded and dying in the water. Several ships converged on the scene to pick up survivors, and as darkness fell, the new Lend-Lease rescue tug Mindful arrived just as the Rohna slipped beneath the waves. A heavy swell prevented the rescue ships launching any boats, and although eight hundred and nineteen survivors were picked from the water, one thousand one hundred and forty-nine men were killed or drowned, including one thousand and fifteen US Army personnel and one hundred and thirty four British and Australian officers, and Indian members of the crew. It was the largest single loss of life the US Army suffered at sea during the war, and the number of fatalities was kept secret for some years.

  Among the survivors the Mindful picked up that night were two Americans, Lt Robert Brewer and Dr Wilmot Boone, one of the ship’s doctors; their recollections were later included in a book about the disaster.9 After commenting that the manoeuverability of the Mindful made her more useful for rescue work than the larger ships, the author wrote:

  [Brewer] could see men waiting on deck, ready to throw lines and other equipment to them. Brewer grabbed a doughnut life preserver, put it around his neck, and headed for the stern of the ship, where the deck was closer to the water than the bow. But there he found dozens of men struggling, so he backed away from them. He rode in against the side of the Mindful, bracing his arms against the hull, and waited for a big wave. ‘Pretty soon one came along raising me a good ten feet up to the rail.’ He reached out and felt strong arms grasp him. He was thrilled to hear someone with a ‘distinct British accent’ tell him, ‘Easy as you go there, lad.’ They were the sweetest words Brewer had ever heard.

  B
ut Brewer’s legs would not work; the Mindful crew had to take him below, where they cut off his clothing and wrapped him in a warm blanket. They gave him a huge cup of hot tea, but he could not keep it down. The best thing he could do, he thought, was to pass out.9

  Which is exactly what he did.

  The author also describes how Boone and some other survivors were rescued from a raft by Mindful:

  After floating an interminable time, Dr Boone heard ‘a voice from the Gods’ speaking to him in a “wonderful” British accent’. Lines were lowered to the raft and its occupants hauled on board where they were treated to mugs of warm rum, followed by hot tea, ‘though all we asked for,’ said Boone, ‘was a cup of coffee!’9

  The part that Mindful played in rescuing survivors from the Rohna, and also for rescuing one hundred and thirty-five men from the French tanker Nivose earlier the same month, earned her crew a Mediterranean Fleet Order of the Day, signed by the C-in-C Mediterranean, Admiral John Cunningham. It read:

  I wish to record my appreciation of the gallantry, skill and devotion to duty which has been shown by Lieutenant ER Waller RNR and the Officers and Crew of HM Rescue tug Mindful in a series of rescue operations in which this ship has taken part.

  On the night of 11/12 November 1943, when KMS31 was attacked by enemy aircraft off Oran, the French tanker Nivose was hit and sank. HMRT Mindful proceeded to pick up survivors and the actions of S/Lieut. IP Crawford RNVR, the First Lieutenant, and Petty Officer R Baxter who went over the side to the assistance of those in difficulty are particularly noteworthy.

  At dusk on 26 November 1943 SS Rohna carrying troops was bombed and sunk off Bougie. HMRT Mindful arrived on the scene as the ship sank and spent the night picking up survivors of which 250 were taken on board. Again S/Lieut. Crawford was conspicuous in leading rescue operations during which the majority of the crew, despite heavy seas, jumped on to rafts and into boats to assist survivors on board.

  On both these occasions the care and attention which was given to survivors was outstanding. HMRT Mindful was also responsible for the successful towing of HMS Cuckmere into Algiers after she had been torpedoed on 14th December. A few days later she towed SS John S. Copley into Oran, after this ship had been torpedoed by a U-Boat.

  In all these operations the high standard of courage, perseverance and seamanship shown by all the Officers and Ships Company is worthy of commendation.10

  Lt Waller and Sub-Lt Crawford, and five others aboard the Mindful, were subsequently awarded the French Life Saving Medal, though it seems they never received it. Crawford later wrote a novel, The Burning Sea, which vividly described both episodes and sold three hundred thousand copies.11 Aged seventeen, Crawford was too young to join the Royal Navy in 1939. Instead, he entered the Merchant Navy and served in three ships, all of which were torpedoed under him. On the last occasion, he and a handful of others spent ten days in an open boat in the Atlantic, and rowed more than five hundred miles to reach Trinidad. He then joined the Rescue Tug Service and took part in the invasions of Sicily, Italy and southern France, and in operations in the Adriatic. After the war, he helped clear mines in Venice and acted as a liaison officer for both the French and Italians. For his wartime exploits he was twice mentioned in despatches.12

  African operations

  Another rescue tug to receive a letter of commendation was HMRT Masterful. Launched in August 1942, she was one of the first Lend-Lease rescue tugs to be handed over. She spent a couple of months working with the US Navy around New Orleans and Charleston, and then escorted some American-built landing craft across the Atlantic. After her arrival in Freetown, her first lieutenant, Sub-Lt WV Mackay RNVR, was unexpectedly pitched into a tow of epic length when on 8 November 1942 the 5161-ton British freighter SS Benalder was torpedoed off the coast of Ghana. Her propeller and rudder were blown away and she had to be towed by a local tug to Takoradi where her cargo was unloaded and she was temporarily repaired. On 14 March, the Masterful left Freetown with orders to tow the Benalder to Saldanha Bay sixty-five miles north of Cape Town, where she could be repaired properly. Masterful’s commanding officer fell ill on the way, and was transferred to another ship, which had a doctor on board, and Mackay took command.

  On 19 March, Mackay received a signal that one of the trawler escorts astern of the convoy he was part of had broken down. He towed her to Takoradi, and then berthed alongside the Benalder to prepare her for towing. The commanding officer returned, but two days later was sent to hospital and Mackay resumed command. The Masterful was now one watch-keeping officer short, but Benalder’s second officer volunteered to assist and help with the navigation, and the rescue tug and tow left Takoradi on 26 March. Forty-eight hours later, she encountered a tropical storm that washed away the freighter’s jury rudder, and rigging wires and rope had to be trailed astern of her to prevent her yawing so wildly.

  Most days the Masterful covered between one hundred and twenty-five and one hundred and fifty miles. She reached Walvis Bay, nearly eight hundred miles north of Cape Town, on 10 April, where she refuelled and took on water and other supplies. Tug and tow left on 15 April and after weathering a fresh southerly gale that brought Masterful almost to a standstill, both vessels arrived at Saldanha Bay on 22 April. The rescue tug had steamed two thousand seven hundred and thirty-four miles in twenty-three days, excluding the stopover at Walvis Bay.13

  In his report, Sub-Lt Mackay wrote that he would be pleased to know if towing a ship ‘in light trim, with no rudder, propeller, etc. over the above distance, and by only one tug of this class, represents a record tow for rescue tugs’.14 If it did, the letter of commendation from the C-in-C South Atlantic did not mention it. He did remark that great credit was due to Mackay ‘for the able and seamanlike manner’ in which the voyage was handled; and for a second time Mackay, after his handling of Superman during an air attack in March 1942, was mentioned in despatches.

  Masterful’s next tow was the 20,000-ton tanker Edward F Johnson, loaded with aviation fuel. Her crankshaft had broken near Mombasa and Masterful towed her to Durban, the nearest port to have suitable repair facilities and be able to handle such a large cargo. In October 1943 she towed another tanker, British Loyalty, to Addu Atoll, the southernmost atoll of the Maldives, which was to be used as a refuelling base for what was to become the British Pacific Fleet the following November. In 1942, British Loyalty had been sunk by a Japanese midget submarine but had been salvaged, and would now act as a storage hulk in the atoll. The problem was getting her into the atoll, a circular coral reef with one narrow entrance, so one of the smaller Empire tugs accompanied the Masterful to help. To conserve her fuel, she was towed behind the tanker:

  After an unscheduled stop at the Seychelles, the tow continued with the Empire tug still behind. Every other day she slipped her wire and came up to us to collect some fresh food, etc., and then hooked herself back on again. On arrival at Addu Atoll the tanker acted as if she knew the place and went straight through the narrows without the aid of the Empire tug, pulling herself up on her anchor in exactly the right position.15

  However, her luck did not hold, as on 9 March 1944 a U-boat fired a torpedo through the gap in the reef and sank her.

  Once the American Lend-Lease rescue tugs started to arrive, several were based in the southern half of Africa. The Masterful was one of them, the Aimwell was another. Both were based at Freetown, but in January 1943 the Aimwell moved to Bathurst [now Banjul], the capital of the Gambia, to await the arrival of a very important visitor. Before and after his meeting with Winston Churchill at Casablanca, President Franklin D Roosevelt flew to and from Bathurst in a seaplane, and each time spent two days aboard the light cruiser USS Memphis. His secretary, Grace Tully, wrote a detailed log of the entire trip, and an extract from the entry for 26 January 1943 describes a small piece of history so far as the Rescue Tug Service is concerned:

  Lord Swinton, the Resident Minister of British West Africa, came on board [USS Memphis] at 4:00 P.M. and chatted with t
he President until 4:30. Thereupon the President invited him to come along for a short trip up the Gambia River on the seagoing tug, HMS Aimwell, standing by to receive the President. The President and Lord Swinton went on board the Aimwell at 4:40, accompanied by Mr Harry Hopkins; Captain H. Y. McCown, U.S.N., Commanding Officer, USS Memphis; Admiral McIntire; and Captain McCrea. On board, the President was met by Commander E. F. Lawder, Royal Navy, Naval Officer in Charge at Bathurst. A British armed motor launch took station on each quarter and at 5:00 P.M., Lt Commander H. Vaughan commanding HMS Aimwell had the ship underway and standing up river.

  This 560-ton seagoing tug was the first to be completed under the terms of the Lend-Lease agreement for British account. Built at Bay City, Michigan, she was placed in commission on 6 June 1942, her officers and men having been sent from Scotland to America for this purpose. She is Diesel-electric driven and mounts one three-inch gun on the forecastle and two 20mm rapid fire guns on the bridge deck. Her trip from Bay City, Michigan, to Freetown, Africa (the latter port being the one out of which she normally operates), was marked by stops at Detroit, Cleveland, Toronto, Quebec, New York, Norfolk, and St. Thomas, Virgin Islands.

  For the trip across the Atlantic the Aimwell had taken a large, floating, wooden dry dock in tow, capable of accommodating vessels as large as a cruiser. An escort was assigned consisting of two coastal minesweepers and two corvettes. Five days out of Freetown, the dry dock broke her back, although the weather had not been rough, and the dock became unmanageable and started to lose buoyancy. After a survey it was decided that it would be impossible to tow her any farther. She was set on fire, and shortly thereafter the dock sank. This tug, normally good for 14 knots with a clean bottom, can now make a bare 12 knots. Manned by a complement of 10 officers and 23 men, she was a compact, powerful little vessel that had been putting herself to good use in towing into port various vessels that had become victims of enemy submarine attack.