The Spuds were joined to the beach by three long floating bridge sections called Whales. The Whales floated on a series of small pontoons called Beetles. Each Beetle was anchored to the seabed with a newly designed Kite anchor.
Trentonian arrived off the invasion area at 0900 on June 16 with its convoy of Phoenixes in tow.[10] This was the first time the crew had been back to Normandy since leaving the beachhead on June 8. Activity in the invasion area was intense, the army had moved inland, but men, material, and supplies were still being moved ashore. Trentonian discharged its convoy and quickly returned to Selsey. Three more times over the next two days they escorted convoys of Mulberry tows to France to aid in construction of the harbours. After the fourth convoy arrived off the beachhead at 1310 on June 19, Harrison was ordered to Portsmouth[11] to take on fuel.[12]
With such a large number of vessels operating, Juno Beach was marked with a lightship to aid in the safe navigation of the shipping traffic. Artist Marc Magee used this photo for the scene on the left side of his painting.
Photo credit: A. Singleton, courtesy of Bruce Keir.
Trentonian anchored in Portsmouth just after 2000[13] and the crew was able to stand down and get a short rest. Rumours started to circulate through the ship concerning the order to fuel. Trentonian still had 84 percent of its fuel left from the previous fuelling. An order to top up could only mean one thing; they were being sent somewhere else. That place was subject to much debate. With the success of the invasion and the number and variety of ships in harbour with them, they speculated the Allies must be opening another front in addition to Normandy. Popular thought amongst the crew was that they were going to Norway.[14]
Surgeon Lt. West had time to survey the sick bay and all the medical equipment. SBA Singleton had kept it well-organized and stocked for the procedures he was capable of performing, but equipment was not available for a doctor’s work. It fell to West to re-equip and organize the sick bay for more advanced medical procedures. He ordered medicines, instruments for minor surgery, plasma, saline, and the apparatus for its administration.[15]
The Mulberry harbours were reinforced with large floating cement caissons, codenamed Phoenixes. Prefabricated in the United Kingdom, each had to be towed to Normandy and then sunk in place.
Photo credit: A. Singleton, courtesy of Bruce Keir.
The night of June 19 turned out to be a difficult one for the entire Allied operation in the English Channel. A major storm hit and lasted three days. The artificial harbours were designed to resist the worst possible summer storm, but this storm had the strength of the worst winter storms to hit the English Channel. Mulberry A at the American Omaha beach was completely destroyed. Mulberry B was also damaged, though it was still operational. It was decided to abandon Mulberry A and reinforce Golden Arrow at Arromanches.
Trentonian and its crew rode out the storm in the protected anchorage of Portsmouth. Signalman Jack Harold took a few minutes to write up the events of his last few days in his diary:
We are now at anchor back in Portsmouth after seven trips across the Channel altogether. In the past six days we have been operating out of Selsey, escorting convoys of Whales and Phoenix roadways across to France. There has been very little activity — a few depth charges dropped, a few star shells fired at suspicious radar pips and we saw a destroyer bombed and a pilotless aircraft shot down. Apart from that nothing has occurred in our area. Ashore, the Canadians and Americans and others are still pushing steadily onwards but progress is slow.
This had been a very busy time for the crew. In the past four days they had escorted six convoys between England and France, once again standing continuous sea watches of four hours on watch and four hours off. The rumour of a new front opening in Norway was met with excitement and conjecture, but another rumour going through the ship was met with frustration — again, there would be no shore leave for the men.
Since the refuelling incident, the men had noticed that AB O’Brian had been becoming fatigued and was not his usual lively self. This was followed by vomiting and a fit of nastiness, barking, growling, and snapping. O’Brian was getting sick.[16]
Trentonian rode out the storm for the next two days. On June 22, the weather started to clear and the rumour of going to Norway was proven wrong. Late that night, at 2235, Trentonian sailed for St. Helen’s Roads, where they anchored an hour later[17] and waited for their next invasion convoy.
During the night AB O’Brian had a seizure. His keeper, Arthur Slater, had to use the heavy asbestos gloves he used to change the hot gun barrels to control the dog. AB O’Brian was now losing weight and was sleeping more.[18]
At 0500 on June 23, Trentonian escorted a coastal convoy into the English Channel. They returned to Portsmouth at 0847.[19]
Portsmouth was crowded; every space that could hold a ship was utilized. While making their way through the harbour, the crew noted that Alberni, a corvette they had worked alongside several times out of Halifax and in the United Kingdon, was anchored in the yacht club basin and surrounded by yachts. Harrison’s personality included a light-hearted side; he knew Alberni’s skipper well and they were old friends. Able Seaman George Hayward was stationed on Trentonian’s bridge and remembers Harrison signalled Alberni, “When did you join the yacht club?” Alberni did not reply.[20]
HMS Belfast off Normandy in June 1944. Belfast has been preserved and now rests as a museum ship in London, England.
Photo credit: A. Singleton, courtesy of the Family of Maurice Campbell.
Trentonian departed Portsmouth at 1900 on the twenty-third and headed to Selsey where it joined a convoy of Mulberry tows at 2330 and proceeded to escort the convoy to France.[21]
The ship’s beloved mascot’s condition continued to deteriorate; the men speculated that his illness must be a result of the fuel spill. On this trip across the Channel, he had a massive seizure. AB O’Brian died shortly after. [22]
Part of the Mulberry Harbour known as a Spud Pierhead.
Photo credit: A. Singleton, courtesy of the Family of Maurice Campbell.
The passing of O’Brian hit the crew hard. The little dog had voluntarily joined their ship when they first arrived in British waters and had been a constant amongst the crew, always there, always playful, and a constant reminder of joy, happiness, and above all else, home.
The crew gathered together. The hammock that had been made for him to sleep in was brought up with AB O’Brian’s body delicately sewn in, a round from the aft gun was placed at his feet. A few words were said and then his keeper, Arthur Slater, carried the tiny bundle to the railing. AB O’Brian was buried at sea.[23]
Trentonian arrived off the French coast at 1238 on June 24 with its latest convoy and then returned to Portsmouth, arriving there at 2148.[24] Once again, word was passed through the ship that there would be no shore leave. Some of the men blamed the skipper while others blamed the stuffed shirts that came aboard after the friendly fire incident with the Americans. Several of the crew remarked that they swore the crew to secrecy and now they were making sure the crew keep quiet by not letting them ashore. They weren’t even allowed to be secured to a jetty — they were again at a distant anchorage. The men in Trentonian had not stepped ashore for leave since May 22 in Londonderry. During that time they were continually employed in operations in support of the invasion.
A party was planned for the next day to blow off steam, but also to let the skipper and the officer’s know they needed a break.[25] After much discussion it was decided to hold a wedding. The crew set aside their rum rations in preparation.
The party began after the noon grog issue on June 26. Able Seaman Stan Bennett of Conception Bay, Newfoundland, was selected as the bride and given a mop for a wig. Able Seaman Jim Rickard from Port Arthur, Ontario, was the groom.[26] Officiating over the ceremony as parson was Acting Petty Officer Ray Lounsbury from Vancouver, British Columbia. The ring bearer was Able Seaman Wilfred Thompson, also from Vancouver.
Trentonian’s crew bl
ows off some steam with a mock wedding. Reading from the good book of seamanship, LS Raymond Lounsbury in the black toque acts as Padre, AB Jim Rickard is the groom with his back facing the camera, the mop top bride was AB Stan Bennett, and the ring bearer is AB Wilfred Thompson.
Photo credit: A. Singleton, courtesy of Tom Farrell.
Nearly the entire crew turned out for the festivities, while the officers watched from the bridge. Parson Lounsbury read the service from the good book of seamanship.[27] After the ceremony was complete, pictures of the bride and groom were taken and the entire off duty crew sat down to enjoy two days of grog issue. Several of the men fondly remember the beginning of this party.
At 0155 on June 27, Trentonian sailed out of Portsmouth Harbour. The ship joined its next convoy of Mulberry tows in the English Channel and escorted them to France. They delivered the convoy safely to Arromanches at 1625 and returned to Portsmouth by 2254 the same day.
On June 28, there was cause for true celebration; Harrison announced that shore leave was to commence, with half the crew going ashore that night with the remaining men to go ashore the next night. The party had achieved its desired effect.[28]
In short order the dress uniforms were out, cleaned, polished, and the men ready to go ashore. This being their first shore leave in England, the men couldn’t wait to get off the ship. As soon as they were cleared to leave, the men were down the gangway and off into Portsmouth.
The men on duty remained in Trentonian, standing their watches and waiting for the men on leave to return. With so many days at sea, it was expected that the men would blow off some steam. This was confirmed when two crewmen returned under escort and in handcuffs.
The authorities explained to the officer-of-the-watch that the two had been celebrating with enthusiasm and had attempted to take a trolley for a drive. They were quite intoxicated when they were picked up by the shore patrol. Taking pity on the sailors, the patrol took the men to the local hospital to sleep it off, at which point the crewmen took exception to the doctor performing his examination. The sailors grabbed the doctor’s hammer and forcibly tried to check his reflexes. When the two sailors tried to head for the door, they became sidetracked with a little nurse chasing. [29]
The officer-of-the-watch took charge of the two men. The handcuffs were returned to the shore patrol and the men were taken below to sleep it off. Both men were charged with disorderly conduct and would stand before the skipper on defaulter’s parade in the morning.
The overindulgence of shore leave was not restricted to the ratings. Later that night two officers returned to the ship staggering along the jetty. On arriving, the two gentlemen had reached the polite stage of inebriation and stood at the foot of the gangway discussing who should go first, “After you. No Sir, after you.” Once the decision was made, the two officers started to climb the gangway and promptly toppled over the rail together into the water below. They were immediately fished out of the water by the duty watch and the now drastically sober officers were ushered to their cabins.[30]
More good news came to the ship from the English Channel on June 29. Huron and HMS Eskimo had attacked and sunk two German ships off the Channel Islands.[31] This increased the mood of the men readying themselves for their turn to go ashore. Also included in the news: the French port of Cherbourg had been surrendered to the Allies.
On completion of the formal ceremony, the celebration began with shredded newspaper to be thrown in place of rice.
Photo credit: SBA A. Singleton, courtesy of the Family of Maurice Campbell.
The two ratings brought to the ship the night before were paraded before Lt. Harrison for morning defaulters. With caps in hand, the two remorseful ratings marched up to the skipper and the charge was read. Feeling the effects of their indulgence, the men expressed their regret for the evening activities. Harrison showed his compassion and willingness to protect his men; he dismissed the charges, justifying their exuberance to youth and just having fun after a long period of continuous work.[32]
In the morning mail was a message for Harrison. Trentonian had been operating overseas since early May and they were now eligible to sell duty-free items in the canteen.[33]
Included with this message were orders for Harrison to make steam and get underway. The much anticipated shore leave for the remaining men was cancelled and Trentonian sailed for Dungeness, near the Strait of Dover, at 1338.[34]
Trentonian’s operations from Portsmouth where now concluded. The ship was to continue support of the invasion from a new port and would be based from Sheerness in the Thames Estuary. This placed Trentonian in the heart of what had become the most dangerous place in the world for ships, the Strait of Dover.
9: Buzz Bombs and Shore Leave
We have just had a short spell in port and all the crew had two days leave which the majority chose to spend dodging “Buzz Bombs” in London. Previous to that nobody had been off the ship for 42 days, since 22nd of May, so the break did a lot of good.
— Lt. W.E. Harrison, RCNVR, Commanding Officer, HMCS Trentonian
During the war the Strait of Dover was considered the most dangerous place to be. It is the closest point of land between England and the French coast and was heavily defended on both sides with aircraft and shore batteries. The Germans placed some of their largest guns within easy range of the Strait and fired on any ship that ventured into these hotly contested waters.
As Trentonian approached the cliffs of Dover, one of the German’s new secret weapons, the V1 rocket, passed near their position. The V1 rockets, or Buzz Bombs, were a real threat to the Allies. They were faster than a fighter plane and, so, difficult to shoot down. The initial counter-measure to them was to shoot everything at it and hope you hit. This created a problem as all those rounds of ammunition came back to earth and showered steel wherever they fell.
Signalman Jack Harold was on Trentonian’s bridge when the sighting was made. Later he made the following entry in his diary,
Last night, the other half of us, including myself were to get ashore. Instead we were ordered to raise steam and proceed to Dungeness, about 15 miles from Dover. On our way there I saw my first pilotless flying bomb or V1 as the Jerry’s call them. Contrary to popular belief, these fiendish machines are driven by rocket power. We heard this one before we saw it, a deep throaty snarl echoing back from the high chalk cliffs of Beachy Head. It was above the clouds and was crossing our bows from port to starboard. Suddenly it shot into sight going like a bat out of hell for the English coast, with two very determined looking Spitfires on its tail. I leapt to my telescope, focused it on the bomb, and then announced my discovery that it was rocket propelled to everyone on the bridge in general. I was immediately set upon by the Captain, the Jimmy, Straw and others. “No rocket ever sounded like that. They make more of a swish. That is the flame from where the Spits shot at it and hit it.” However I stuck to my opinion and later basked in my glory of being right. As I watched the “thing,” the two Spits opened fire on it with all they had. Suddenly it twisted over on its back and went into a long steep plunge. It hit the water with a flash and a column of water that suggested the crack of doomsday. When the mass of water subsided, I waited for the concussion, timing it with the sweep second hand on my watch. When the sound of the explosion came it was deafening, even at a distance that I computed to be about three miles. The Spitfires swooped triumphantly over the spot where their prey had vanished and then resumed their patrol.[1]
Able Seaman George Hayward recalls being on duty on Trentonian’s bridge when they received a signal from shore, “You are not, repeat not, to open fire on flying bombs.” The message was passed to the skipper. Harrison, with a straight face, calmly told the signalman to reply, “Ask them if we can drop depth charges.”[2] Trentonian arrived at Dungeness at 2050 and anchored, waiting for its convoy. At 0100 on June 30 the ship left with its convoy en route to France.[3]
Harrison filed his monthly report along with a letter of monthly expenditure of am
munition. During the month of June 1944, Trentonian had used four rounds of four-inch star shell and four fuses, three depth charges, three primers, three detonators, and three depth charge pistols. They had also used sixty rounds of twenty-millimetre shells for the oerlikons.[4]
Trentonian anchored off Arromanches just after noon on July 1, 1944, and discharged the convoy of Mulberry tows. Trentonian joined HMS Buttercup, a Flower-class corvette, and the two ships started back across the English Channel at 1748 towards Portsmouth.[5]
Just before midnight they left Buttercup near Nab Tower off Selsey and joined Calgary just after 0200 on July 2. The two ships then proceeded through the Strait of Dover towards Nore, near Sheerness.[6]
LS Gordon Harley, AB Arthur Slater, and AB Stan Bennett, Trentonian’s aft two-pounder pom-pom gun crew. The men painted the names of their girlfriends on the inside of the gun shield.
Photo credit: A. Singleton, courtesy of the Family of Maurice Campbell.
Around 1310, Trentonian left Calgary and proceeded to join Prescott.[7] The ship met Prescott and a convoy of Mulberry tows at 1920 and proceeded to France.[8] Twenty minutes later, Trentonian had to detach from the convoy.[9] Ordinary Seaman Robert Cathrine of Windsor, Ontario,[10] had developed a medical problem that was beyond the care the ship’s doctor[11] and needed to be hospitalized immediately. The ship headed to New Haven at speed.
Trentonian rejoined Prescott and the convoy at 2300 that night and continued towards France.[12] After leaving the convoy off the Juno Beach Light Vessel at 1310, they headed back across the Channel on July 3.[13]
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