By June 1943 Welfreighter No. 1 had undergone comprehensive trials at Staines from which information had been obtained for the operational prototype. There were some unsatisfactory features such as insufficient freeboard, lack of comfort and failure of the craft to tow with stability at high speed – 7 knots!25 Photographs of the prototype on test remind one of the half-submerged front end of a London bus. Nevertheless, work on the second Welfreighter was proceeding.
At about this time a few of the engineers gathered at the test tank at Station IX to witness the first floating of one of the Welfreighters. As the water bore its whole weight it showed a very marked list. Colin Meek, who was merely an onlooker and had nothing to do with the submersibles, measured the angle with his eye, noted its width and other features and proceeded with some verbal mental arithmetic, at the end of which he put a foot on the craft and said something like: if you put 700 lb (317 kg) of ballast three feet below my foot, it will come upright. The quiet-mannered Meek proved right and, with the rearrangements of various components, this Welfreighter floated upright.
In the spring of 1944 Lord Selborne was becoming increasingly frustrated with the slow progress of the Welfreighter, which he was anxious to use – if not in the Adriatic, then certainly in the Far East. But the Admiralty were not pleased with having to take responsibility for its seaworthiness and for financing it while SOE were the only organisation showing an operational interest in it. The trials of the prototype had not gone smoothly and many alterations had proved necessary.
Handling of the Welfreighter at sea required some care: more, some would say, than should be expected for a vessel which might be operating under hazardous conditions. When on the surface the ballast and side tanks had to be kept full of air by means of the engine exhaust. Having submerged, the required depth was maintained by adjusting the contents of a compensation tank to achieve the desired buoyancy. To surface from a dive the midship side tanks had first to be filled with air from the compressed air bottles situated behind the conning tower, then upon surfacing the forward main ballast tank was blown by a low pressure blower before the engine was started.
Selborne wrote to A.V. Alexander at the Admiralty on 8 May 1944 complaining that while Welfreighter trials had been ‘on the whole satisfactory’, the Admiralty wanted more and more modifications. The craft with its crew of two was urgently needed to land two agents and a ton of stores on hostile coasts. The Admiralty expressed the deepest reservations about the working conditions for the crew, especially as there was an intention to operate in the tropics. The allowance of air in the vessel was only one-third of that provided for the crew of the Navy’s X-Craft.
The Admiralty agreed to the firm of Oppermans embarking on the construction of six Welfreighters for completion by 1 October. There were tentative plans for a further thirty-four after successful trials on the first batch. It was further agreed that SOE should undertake the development of the Mk III from the end of June. With the war now going in the Allies’ favour doubts began to be expressed about whether this could be completed and made operational before the end of the Japanese war.
Political, production and engineering problems continued to beset the Welfreighter. Allegations of financial delays were levelled at the SOE Director of Finance who retorted that ‘Production for SOE will need careful scrutiny as to real value’. The Admiralty had second thoughts about the ability of Messrs Oppermans to produce six vessels, so placed a contract with them for only a prototype. Then it was discovered that the Gardiner 4LB diesel engines needed alteration before installation in the hull. In September a proposal was tabled to place an order for thirty-four craft, required as soon as possible after 1 October, with the Letchworth, Hertfordshire firm of Shelvoke and Drewry, whose peace-time activity was the production of municipal waste disposal vehicles, one of which was called the ‘Freighter’. A security vetting of the firm noted this as a useful cover story!
Delays continued. On 3 November Lord Selborne wrote to Alexander yet again emphasising the urgent need for the Welfreighter and deploring the constant demands by the Admiralty for modifications. ‘If these continued they may lead to the eventual abandonment of the project without an alternative craft being available’, he said. Three days later Sir Frederic Wake-Walker, Controller of the Navy, wrote to the First Lord refuting Selborne’s insinuations and expressing his concern for the safety of the crew and vessel, which he described as dangerous. He had not seen details and had not therefore been able to carry out calculations so, understandably, he was not prepared to accept responsibility for the vessel’s seaworthiness. If, however, SOE wanted to accept the Welfreighter, subject to a number of Admiralty provisos on safety, then there was nothing more to be said.26 No doubt these provisos would have placed severe restrictions on the limits to which the vessel could be used and would not have been welcomed by SOE.
In a further letter on 9 November 1944, the Controller of the Navy again made the point that the Admiralty had been asked to accept responsibility for a craft which they had not designed and which appeared ‘extremely dangerous to operate according to our standards’. He illustrated this point by reporting that when the craft had been taken (presumably on tow) to Port Bannatyne in Scotland for diving trials it had developed a 40° list and later in a towing trial a 90° list! During these trials the upper tanks had been allowed to fill with water, thus upsetting the stability of the craft. To overcome this problem, at least in part, midship side tanks were fitted consisting of low-density wood pieces cased in sheet steel. In his view this was an example of the problems being encountered that had given rise to complaints of the Admiralty constantly wanting further modifications. He strongly proposed that there should be definite limitations placed on the operation of the craft.27
At this time six Welfreighters were more or less ready and could be sent to the Far East for training purposes. The remaining thirty-four under construction would have to incorporate the latest modifications. One modification which might have resulted from the limited operational experience with the Welman was the fitting on later models of a fixed height, rotatable Barr and Stroud periscope.
It had been intended to use the Welfreighter to deliver stores to the Albanian partisans on the Adriatic coast but the war ended before they could be deployed. Eight were sent to the Far East to be based at Port Moresby with the intention of towing them part-way to the Malay peninsula, where they would supply guerrillas fighting the Japanese but, again, the war ended before they could be put to this task.
The sea trials of Welfreighters took place at Fishguard and they were not without their hazardous, not to say light-hearted, moments. The following is an account of just such an episode discovered among the faded papers of Everett, who was Chairman of the Trials Committee. (See Chapter 10 on the Operational Research and Trials Section.)
A FISHGUARD COMEDY
Cast in order of appearance:-
Archie
Capt J.R. Abbott, RE
Charlie
Lt E.C.Crocker, O.S.S.
Oscar
J.R.B. Oxford, B.A.
The Gallant Maj (R.N?)
Maj J.G. Bedford, RE
The Phoney Doctor
R.C.G. Moggridge, Ph.D.
Archie, in a canoe fitted with the Budig apparatus, had been joy-riding round the harbour on tow from a Freighter; the fun started when the Freighter came in towards the mole to cast off the tow. She sailed in, serene in her confidence to check her way by reversing with her electrics; alas, they failed to function and she proceeded on to the rocks with a sort of majestic inevitability. She finished well and truly stuck with the tide falling fast, and all that was accomplished by turning engines full on was a slight forward movement followed by frantic protests from the propeller hitting rocks.
Archie departed for the escort vessel a mile or so away. flapping his Budig way across the harbour like an exotic water insect. He enters the story no more, except that being an apt student of Trials Committee methods, he managed to
break his machine; but lacking the finesse to which the Trials Committee aspires, he broke it in mid-sea, and had a long and weary paddle back to harbour. There, as a revenge on an unkind fate, he left his canoe tied to the rope from the raft in the swell trap. This in a single stroke cut all communication between raft and shore and was the cause of much fury when the Freighter finally reached harbour.
Meanwhile the seaborne members of the Trials Committee, ever chivalrous, had sailed to the assistance of the Freighter in distress. Charlie and Oscar, in a canoe, had been towing a Wheelwright* laden with the Gallant Major and half a ton of lead; casting off their tow, the exuberant pair started to pull a 15-ton Freighter off the rocks by means of their 1½ horse engine. Charlie in the bows was holding the tow-rope. The canoe twisted out of line. The rope engaged on a recessed portion of the Oscar torso, and in a remarkably short space of time the canoe was inverted and two bodies were in the water. The turn over had something of the smoothness and style of a first-class serve at tennis. Charlie struck out for the Freighter, while Oscar climbed on the still inverted canoe and started to roar with laughter. The shore party was already so convulsed that they had to sit down on boulders to give rain (sic) to their mirth.
The merriment was increased by the spectacle of the Gallant Major, nobly paddling to the rescue of all and sundry on one heavily laden Wheelwright. He and Oscar then added to the fun and games by trying to right the canoe from the Wheelwright. Every time they got the canoe nearly vertical, it floated away from them, leaving them the alternatives of dropping the thing, or of diving into the widening gap of water between the two craft. Unfortunately for the onlookers, they succeeded in avoiding the second alternative; but during the third attempt the canoe cut a neat 6” slit in one of the Wheelwright’s buoyancy chambers, which flattened with a derisive hiss.
The seaborne forces then abandoned the canoe to its fate, merely taking a rope alleged to be attached to the canoe, and throwing it in the general direction of the shore party. The rope, reached with some difficulty, was found to have little apparent connection with the canoe; its end was, as an act of faith, tied round a large boulder in the hope that it would keep the canoe from drifting out to sea.
The next item was the arrival of the escort vessel, making remarkably foul-mouthed and ineffective attempts to throw a line to the Freighter. The rope was finally passed and the escort started to tow the Freighter out in a line perpendicular to her axis; a process which, it seemed, might well pull the craft over on her side. Certainly Oscar was seen to prefer the safety of the much abused Wheelwright, and Charlie even disembarked on to a submerged rock. All went well, however, and the freighter departed to sea at speed – to the consternation of the shore party, who were suffering from the illusion that an unbroken chain of ropes connected the Freighter, Wheelwright and canoe to the above large boulder.
The party then broke up and its constituent sections proceeded homeward by their several methods. The escort took the Wheelwright in tow, and proceeded at speed; whereupon the Wheelwright, no longer in its best condition, stood on its side and deposited nearly all its lead and miscellaneous stores, some of which were much valued, in the harbour.
The engine and canoe were recovered at low tide, being found connected solely by the throttle cable. The closing act of the Comedy occurred later, while packing the Wheelwright for transport home. The craft had evidently encountered the local sewer, and it succeeded in contaminating both the Gallant Major and the Phoney Doctor. They are both large men, and their size was exaggerated by Ursula suits. As a final tableau one had two gigantic backsides striding towards the sea, intent on the removal from their persons of unwanted matter.
It seemed no small pity that men of such wit
Should have covered their hands with so very much -it
Is hard to find words for the muck that are fit
For use in this bit of a versified skit:
Suffice it to say that the stuff we’ll call ‘it’
Proved uncommon reluctant to flit, or to quit
The hands of our couple enough to permit
Them to feel it quite fitting at table to sit.
In an interesting insight into life at Station IX, a former secretary to Maj John Meldrum RE, Agnes Kinnersley, recalled the uncanny silence as a number of employees squeezed into the vessel for a dive in the test tank. But this was not the last of SOE’s undersea adventures.
The Under-Water Glider
One of the most confusing names given to an invention emanating from Station IX must have been that of the ‘under-water glider’. The first reference found is in an extract from the diary of Maj H.G. Haslar RM in C.E. Lucas Phillips’s book Cockleshell Heroes.28 Haslar notes a meeting on 30 July 1942 with ‘Prof Newitt re underwater glider’ which Lucas Phillips takes to mean the Sleeping Beauty. First references found in the archives were reports which appeared in October 1942 when it was said that tests with a model of the device had continued satisfactorily. In fact, later that year the Admiralty experimental facilities at Haslar were used to test a number of scale models of ISRB submersibles. By December Short Brothers, the aircraft builders, had started constructing the first full-sized model from drawings supplied by SOE. Forecast for the end of February 1943, then the end of March then, with the hull completed, in April, tests were carried out in three modes: with the craft on the surface, with only the pilot’s head above water, and totally submerged. A surface speed of 3 knots was obtained with excellent stability and good handling. It was estimated that a range of six miles might be obtained. With only the pilot’s head above water the speed dropped to 2½ knots and stability continued to be good provided that the ballast did not shift its position. Full underwater trials were not conducted at this time as the hydroplane area was thought to be too small.29
On 29 May 1943 the Under-Water Glider Mk I was satisfactorily tested at Southsea by the Royal Marines Boom Patrol Defence. They conducted trials of paddling, sailing and motoring, launching directly off the beach into the Channel. The prototype of the Mk II was earmarked for further trials.
The Mk I was taken to Staines where on 5 June it was dived to the bottom where the pilot got out, inspected the bottom of the reservoir, returned to the craft and drove around underwater before surfacing to return to the landing stage.30 Three days later correspondence between DSR and AD/Z refers to ‘the submersible glider (Sleeping Beauty)’, which would seem to indicate that it was possibly the forerunner of the Sleeping Beauty which came into its own the following year.31
Sadly, subsequent records of the craft have not been found. However, the Imperial War Museum photograph HU 56756 reproduced in the plate section, p. 24, which is said to show a development of the Sleeping Beauty at Vickers’ testing tank at St Albans, might offer some clues. This craft is clearly much more sophisticated than the ‘Sleeping Beauty’ shown in photographs elsewhere; its sleek construction is typical of the work turned out by aircraft firms such as Short Bros; and closer inspection of the photograph shows hydroplanes fore and aft. All this leads one to wonder if this is the second prototype of the underwater glider with improved hydroplane area. Furthermore, Appendix III of Admiralty Experiment Works Report No. 117/42 dated 16 December 1942 on investigations for ISRB shows a sketch of a 9 ft long submersible craft with a shape similar to the one in the photograph.32
The Motorized Submersible Canoe (MSC) – Sleeping Beauty
A device invented and developed at Stations IX and XII which was primarily for use by Combined Operations Forces such as the Royal Marine Commandos and the forerunner of the Special Boat Squadron (although, like the other submersibles, it appeared in the SOE catalogue) was the Motorized Submersible Canoe. This intriguing craft was conceived in 1942 and became known as the ‘Sleeping Beauty’ since its inventor, Maj Quentin Reeves, was seen lying in an early mock-up with his eyes closed as if asleep. It was another illustration of the lateral thinking of the SOE scientists and engineers and their keenness to pursue ideas, even on behalf of other agencie
s. On 27 May 1943 the design produced for the Chief of Combined Operations showed sufficient promise for Prof Newitt to send details to Col R.H. Barry.33 It was almost 13 feet long and was powered by a 0.5 hp electric motor giving it a range of 12 sea miles at full speed (4.4 knots) or 40 miles at cruising speed (3.1 knots) in still water. On at least some models the forward storage hatch covers, complete with instrument panel carrying three dials, could be hinged open to the left for loading. The instrumentation consisted of a clock, a compass and a depth gauge. It carried an emergency mast and a lug sail of parachute silk. Some examples were fitted with hydroplanes fore and aft. The canoe would normally travel very low and unobtrusively on the surface but in an emergency it was capable of submerging, the pilot wearing the sinisterly named Sladen Clammy Death suit and using an on-board oxygen system. It could carry at least three 20 lb (9 kg) explosive charges or about twelve limpets and was seen as being eminently suitable for attacking shipping in harbour. Consideration of the device dragged on to the end of the year when Station IX agreed to produce three of the six prototypes required by COHQ, subject to the Admiralty financing their manufacture. It was agreed that SOE might possibly have a demand for some.34 By the second quarter of 1944 production was carried out under Admiralty instructions by the Fairmile Marine Co. Ltd of Cobham, who sub-contracted the hulls to Messrs Briggs of Dagenham, and trials and training were held at Station VIII (Staines reservoir).
Despite its being manufactured by an outside contractor, the Sleeping Beauty absorbed a considerable amount of the capacity of the Contracts (formerly Production) and Quality Control Departments of Station XII during the period Spring 1944 to Summer 1945. Station XII was entirely responsible for the technical control of the contract and for the inspection and testing of the craft. Great pressure had to be exerted to obtain the craft and their ‘J’ containers, in which they were transported by mine-laying submarines, in time to meet the requirements of Operation Hornbill. At one time, it was necessary to transfer up to fifteen personnel from the Aston House workshops to Cobham to carry out assembly and inspection work. Acquisition of the oxygen breathing apparatus, the underwater clothing and ancillary equipment also fell to Station XII.
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