Chapter 5 Red Jealousy; Opee; Leave & Learn; Philippine Survey; Ambition

RED JEALOUSY

IF you don't believe in jinxes, genii, gremlins and such, you won't be interested in reading further. If mascots, lucky charms and other trinkets dear to the heart of superstitious homo sapiens leave you cold, and you profess to being blasé about such things, I warn you now to throw this story away. For its heroine is a much loved, highly prized emblem of luck-a small red glass horse.

There must be hundreds of explanations as to why people wear and carry and guard mascots. Rag dolls in mess decks, D. Duck, Esq., and assorted types of females painted on gun mountings; dogs, cats, monkeys, bears and the like, kept in suffocating luxury in His Majesty's ships; and sailors who look after these charms will swear to their omnipotence and quote examples ad lib. of the luck which they have brought ships and ships' companies. When ill-luck dogs a ship, the charm is rarely discredited, and adverse gremlins arc soon found as scapegoats. Even when the men are convinced that the mascot of the moment is at fault, no whit abashed they speedily "ditch" it and another one is enthroned in its stead.

My little talisman is a pippin! Made of glass, she stands about three inches high and resembles, as she is meant to, a young and skittish female horse. Ears pricked up, neck arched, fore legs straightened in a "prop" position, her tiny translucent body and roguish tail complete a delightful toy. Round her neck I have tied a spare horseshoe-somewhat bio, for her I'll admit - which I won in a Christmas pudding during one never-to-be forgotten festive season in Capetown.

The full details of the acquisition of "Penelope" would make a story apart, and would involve someone whose absence makes me unwillingly to divulge State secrets without her permission. But as a souvenir, and a forget-me-not, she is incomparable, and Durban, amongst other places, springs to mind each time I look at her. Those of you who have been lucky enough to have seen from the beach at Durban, whilst in the right company, a full moon over the calm Indian Ocean, will understand my reluctance to speak of it. I leave it at that!

But I can say that from the time of my bringing this trophy aboard H.M.S. Nonsuch, in which ship I was first lieutenant (or popularly "Jimmy") my luck has never looked back. Within a short time of my acquiring her, I became, temporarily, captain of my ship, and for several weeks drove Nonsuch round on His Majesty's service. Within a twelvemonth I had my own command, and shortly afterwards, by a piece of extraordinary luck - of the kind about which one doesn't speak much, as it arose through the misfortune and sorrow of others - I had returned, as captain, to my old "steamer". Penelope proudly took her stance on my desk, to "graze" on the blue baize field she knew so well.

I installed myself in Nonsuch whilst the ship was refitting, and amongst the odds and ends left in the cabin by my predecessor was a large toy black cat. Relic of some gigantic "thrash" ashore in Colombo, it looked somewhat like the condition in which its owner must have been when he recovered - hung over!

Besides a frayed and washed-out once patriotic ribbon round its neck, it showed the ravages of rat attention, and, in more ways than one, was no ornament to the "cuddy".

However, I hadn't thrown it out, and the sailor looking after me had placed it in a bare corner of the sleeping cabin where, frankly, I ignored it. Not so my little red Penelope - as you shall hear.

Trials on completion of the refit were not so good. As one fault was corrected, some other engine refused to run properly, and amongst the engine-room artificers and stokers the whisper of gremlins, jinxes and Jonahs intermingled with the usual amount of invective one hears from the toil-stained and weary engine-room department on such occasions. But, one by one, the troubles were found and righted, until only two auxiliary machines were out of action-unfortunately two of the more important ones and most necessary for steaming the ship-and, as the time for sailing loomed closer, the attitude of the operations staff changed from one of amused cynicism to outspoken hostility.

I was at my wits' end. Being no engineer myself, as is the fashion of modern sailors, my knowledge ran only to a rough idea of the employment required of these engines, and of the chaos caused when they break down. My engineer officer was working "flat out", and ignorant urging of a belligerent
nature would have caused another good man to go wrong! So I kept a discreet silence, and paced my cabin in splendid isolation and agony of mind.

At one end of my "beat", I could see Penelope, poised and smugly calm, and with that look in her eye which, in a more animate animal, would have passed for a twinkle or been the forerunner of a horse laugh. The bitterness of my thoughts almost drove me to do violence to her trim little person, but I put such childishness aside as I turned to walk back to the other side of the cabin. There, the black cat, sitting in stupid contemplation, met my angry gaze as I wheeled about.

Suddenly I woke up. A flash, an inspiration, and I felt sure I had located the trouble in the engine-room!

With a quick stride to the scuttle, a snatch, and a ready jerk of my right arm. , I hurled the sneering apology for a cat into the sea. I seem to remember a little bell under its chin which tinkled, and I could have sworn I saw a look of hurt surprise on its dumb face as it flashed through the air, just as certain was I of the approving nod of Penelope's arched neck and bent head as I turned towards her - a precocious child looking for approbation; a gladiator waiting for his applause-

Don't ask me for any explanations, please, for I'm a simple sailor. I hate to hear a glass tumbler ring, I dislike sailing on a Friday, and I cross my fingers when I see a shooting star . . . but within an hour the "chief" hastened down to tell me that his distilling plant was working again, and some three hours later, the dockyard manager, beaming all over his grease stained face, proclaimed the main feed pump as fit for sea!

Work it out for yourself, but, as I said, don't ask me.

However, I think Penelope knows.

"WUN"

OPEE

IT was never intended that I should survive any longer than was necessary to fulfill the purpose f or which I was given birth, but to create a mild sensation for a few brief minutes and then to be forgotten; and it is only now I am at rest that I have an opportunity to survey that short and tragic life which was mine.

In the beginning I was conceived in the brain of the S.O.O. (Staff Officer Operations to the unenlightened). But he was cruel right from the start. No sooner had I seen the light of day than it became obvious that I was an unwanted child; to be cast out into the world and kicked from pillar to post until my usefulness was spent. He didn't even attempt to know me, but merely glanced at me once and then roughly thrust me into a cylindrical contrivance where he secured me very effectively.

Before I had time to realize what was happening I found myself in a deep dark chasm, being hurled for ever downwards by hurricane-force winds. Never shall I forget that nightmare ride into the unknown depths, and the terrific buffeting I received at the end of the journey.

Much to my relief I was gently extracted from my uncomfortable prison by a complete stranger. But f had no opportunity to become acquainted with my deliverer. Taking one swift glance at me he rushed for the window and handed me hastily to another person on the other side, muttering, "Opee."

I had no idea what "Opee" might have been, but I gathered that it was my name. At any rate it appeared to be a magic word for the window-sitter immediately became active.

With a pair of steady hands I was placed beneath what appeared to be a huge hammer, and I was smitten an extremely heavy blow. When I emerged from this ordeal I discovered that I had been decorated with a pretty blue time-stamp. I was soon to receive other decorations. The first was in the form of a vivid red impression by an enormous rubber stamp bearing the magic words "Operational Priority". I was very grateful to the wielder of this stamp for the gentleness with which lie performed the operation.

I did not, however, anticipate the sudden thud of the machine which branded me with a series number, neither did I appreciate the sharp pain which he caused when he pinned the "record chit" to my being. Having scrawled his initials on the record chit he handed me to someone whom he called "Yeo" and murmured, "Super-Dooper." I was now rather confused as to what my name might be, but I was beginning to realize that I had become something of importance. There were dozens of other creatures like myself lying about the desk, but they were promptly ignored when I put in an appearance. I am conceited enough to believe that my vivid red decoration gave me additional charm and thus attracted such a great deal of attention.

The "Yeo" person was indeed very lenient with me and did not subject me to any punishment. After scrutinizing me he added his initials to the record chit and passed me over the desk to yet another person. This time very minute figures were scribed upon my being and I was again passed on to someone they called the C.W.O.

When the C.W.O. withdrew the pin from me I was inclined to take to him kindly; but alas, the respite was brief for the pin was shortly replaced together with yet another piece of paper known as a "route chit". Again initials were added to the former chit, and much scribing was placed upon the second appendix in addition to another vivid red decoration.

But I had no time to ponder over my attractive appearance. Other hands were ready to receive me, and I was rushed into an adjoining room and delivered to yet another stranger. (The number of people around this place is colossal.) I was very promptly placed on a rather warm tapping machine. They called it a T/P.

The operator of this machine gazed wistfully at me as she tapped on the keys immediately beneath. At last, I thought, my charms were going to be appreciated. But my hopes were short-lived. After being steadily scrutinized for a few seconds by a pair of delightful brown eyes I was hastily removed. A remark was pencilled on the route chit and I found myself being whisked away to another T/P for another short sojourn.

By this time I had no illusions. In fact I was fully aware that I was not destined for a life of peace. Mine was to be all hustle and bustle until I was of no further interest.

From the warm atmosphere of the T/P room I was once again presented at the window. I shuddered with the thoughts of more pounding, but could have saved myself the mental agony. The window-sitter carefully accepted me, and then abruptly handed me to the Yeo. I was beginning to develop an affection for the Yeo, but he was quite unconcerned and, after careful scrutiny, passed me along to someone whom he called "Snow" and who was seated alongside.

"Snow' , it appears, was the "minuter"; but like all the others was quite heartless. Apart from scrawling a few abbreviations on my delicate pink complexion he took no further interest in me, but handed me with some precision to another tapping-machine operator.

There was no warmth about this tapping machine and I was thankful that I was not obliged to recline thereon. From my position on the desk I was able to observe that a replica of myself was being manufactured. I was furious!

So, after all I had endured, I was to be replaced by some inelegant typographical usurper! From that moment I knew that my end was near.

From the typist I was conveyed to the checkers. As they compared me with this grotesque duplicate, even though I was looked Upon with seemingly kindly eyes, there was no praise forthcoming for my self-esteemed winsomeness. This appeared to be the end of the road, and I was placed in a cold tin tray. At least they might have spared me from the painful experience of witnessing dozens of copies being imprinted from that execrable replica. Oh, the irony of it all!

A cold merciless hand lifted me out of the tray and laid me firmly on the desk. Someone near at hand whispered, "Gestapo!"

It was not actually I who was subjected to the third degree examination, but the first appendix-the record chit.

At what time did I first appear at the window? When was I delivered to the Yeo, the C.W.O., the minuter, the typist, the checkers, and finally the "Sleuth"? The answers to all these interrogations were carefully taken down in writing. A "Gestapo Bulletin" would be issued in due course.

It was all so embarrassing; but I was resigned to my fate. I had suffered a great deal during those first few minutes of my hectic young life. The future could be no worse.

Eventually the questionnaire was completed and I was laid to rest in the signal log, a tomb which I was to share in common with hundreds more of my kind.

The majority of my present companions were far less attractive than I, and consequently of less importance. Theirs had been no hurly-burly existence, but a life of comparative leisure, and as a result their end had not come prematurely as had mine.

As I lie here and cogitate I feel humiliated to think that after having rendered such sterling service to my creator he did not even express a desire to see me again. A duplicate would be delivered to him in due course whilst 1, the original, would be only a memory, if that.

Since I have lain within this common vault many of my companions have been resurrected for interrogation. It has all been very disturbing. I am, however, consoled with the knowledge that even though I may never enter the Halls of Valhalla I have faithfully performed my duty as an Operational Priority Signal.

"L. E. C."

LEAVE AND LEARN

WELL, first there is the lunatic scramble to get home-there have been weeks of uncertainty, after months and months of rolling around the Pacific, as to whether there would be any leave at all and excitement rises as our old hooker noses in to our northern Australian base.

The "relief" is there all right! After a hurried hand-over one is almost thrown on to the jetty with lock, stock and no barrel ... into the waiting car which has to get one to the airstrip in twenty minutes. Final instructions and cautions are screamed to the relief from the car window-keep an eye on the starboard thrust-high temperatures on number three port, but don't worry it's always like that-don't forget to . . . aw, hell, razor and toothbrush have been forgotten and the ship is lost in a cloud of dust.

One arrives at the strip with only one and a half minutes to spare, and the transport plane arrives-two hours later.

The rain starts-and continues. Well, it's not rain really, it's a sort of stress test they use on iron roofs in the north; it's wet, too.

We stagger across the strip with squelching shoes and sodden burdens and clamber into the transport. The interior resembles a cocktail of Disney's "Fantasia" and a direct hit on a car dealer's junk-yard-there seems to be a lot of machinery and tyres and ammunition and shovels and mail-bags and (blow me down!) the proverbial jeep.

Ah ,well, it's war. One finds a seat on a pile of rifles after trying, a bag of staples, and waits. And waits.

Another transport is taking off-perhaps that's the one . . . ?

No; here's the pilot now. He comes in at the tradesman's entrance, signs a lot of wet papers with a wet pen held in a wet hand, then starts off on his hazardous journey to the wheel-house (or whatever they call it) over sixteen steaming forms of still life and anchors for submarines and mincers and magnetos. He murmurs "Sorry!" sixteen times and arrives at the for'ard bulkhead door. It is locked.

He glitters at the airman A.B. down aft and asks, "Who in the bloodyell locked this?"

The A.B.A. answers not, but hurriedly throws the key along the length of the Black Hole of Calcutta and it falls between a keg of nails and a cream separator into the works of a radio set; the pilot delves after it, muttering in Hindustani.

After a few minor delays we take off with a roar into Niagara Falls; rather worrying really until the A.B.A. is heard telling a soldier that we have a "good blind pilot" . . . so what? It is remarkable how keen the other senses become to compensate this loss. Blind or not, he climbs to 17,000 feet to give his passengers a better view-which Just goes to prove that chivalry is not dead.

The passengers freeze; shirts go stiff; sixteen noses turn blue; the pile of rifles glitters a blue smirk as a frost forms on them. . . . I find a more comfortable seat on a tyre.

Despite the altitude it is rather choppy and she is a lively sort of a ship. Although the cargo hasn't shifted yet a glassy-eyed soldier decides to shift his; he staggers along the sea of modern accessories like a drunken sailor in a turnip field, but gives up the unequal battle half-way and collapses on a crate of pigeons.... Even had he got there he would have found the jeep barricading the door.

His exhibition inspires three of his comrades who think they can do better, and although they start well only one gets as far as the jeep, then finds that his journey isn't really necessary.

One's thoughts turn to Amundsen and other lost explorers of icy wastes-don't they go into a frozen death sleep or something? Space and time and relativity drift Into one's consciousness . . . surely this couldn't go on for ever? ... how long is "ever"? The Brontosaurus has only been extinct for-Lord! how lumpy this tyre is!

At last something is happening. Sixteen huddled forms stir; the ears crack-one is actually thawing! Perhaps we are getting too close to the sun.... I look through the port glass; no, it is Australia -coming up very rapidly.

A tyre blows out in the landing, which is rather mean really. After all, it hasn't done a turn for hundreds of miles and as soon as there is a job to do it cries, "Kaput!"

There is a general sorting-out of human flotsam and inanimate jetsam and a stretching of leas on the hot and humid airstrip.

So far so good, but the whole thing has been rather disappointing from my point of view because I am taking, one of those correspondence courses in journalism, rehabyl ... rehabb . . . reconstruction, y'know, for soldiers. I don't know how I came to be in it, being a sailor; perhaps they haven't found out yet.

The courses are quite good too-and you can take almost anything-plumbing, tripe dressing, and upholstering, to name but a few. I meant to take tripe-dressing first but I put the X on the wrong line and a lot of papers came all about writing, and I just had to go on with it or I couldn't get my deposit back to do the tripe course.

But as I was saying, I am disappointed, because in this course I have got to Lesson 5 (jokes and paragraphs) and all this trip I have been listening and observing in an endeavour to get ideas to -write about-and nothing has happened so far. No merry quips nor happy repartee. No humorous incidents or anything.

But it may brighten -up as we go along.

There is no spare wheel for our plane and we receive the news that we are to stay the night, or until a wheel is procured, like sixteen stoics having their ears torn off; we slowly turn to put our gear and ourselves into the tumbril, which proceeds to displace our hearts and kidneys as it attains a steady 40 m.p.h. through crevasse, morass, ravine and abyss to convey us to our mess. And what a mess!

It is a sort of, hastily built galvanized-iron shed with no deck-just Mother Earth; and it contains about a hundred iron frames with chaff-bags stretched on them and supported at each corner by empty flour-drums. I am thinking how useful they would be to sleep on if there was nothing else when an airman bos'n enters and he must have read my thoughts for he informs us that we can use the frames for that very thing. He calls them "beds". Well, I've only seen bunks and hammocks, but I have a feeling that a real bed is something better than these contraptions.

Whilst we are taking a shower with the aid of an inspiration for W. Heath Robinson, something on my back arouses interest and vapid ribaldry; it transpires that I have "Goodyear" embossed on my stern. I suppose the same low crew would have laughed to see poor old Boadicea with "Rome" written on her heart.

Somebody chastises a shell-case with a pick handle so we all go to eat and wash up by numbers, and after this exhibition of efficient ingenuity I stroll off to see the sights. I come upon a comfortable sort of shack with cane chairs littering the deck and I select a chair by a table that has a newspaper with somebody behind it.

The newspaper lowers and I see a bloke all tricked out in badges and insignia all upside down so I know he is a Dutchman. He smiles and says, "Damyoutohelltoo?"

I am about to reply with "Auf Wiedersehen", which is all the Dutch I know, when I suddenly remember it is German, so I toy with "Skoll" for a second but decide to play safe and I say, "Nice sort of a day? " He seems disappointed, says "Ja! " and transfers his attention to the paper again . . . and I thought I was going to get such interesting notes for my course. So disappointing.

A sort of League of Nations starts to drift into the place, all flying blokes. I think perhaps Churchill and his mates are going to have a secret conference here. Blimey, now I'll get something good!

Then I discover I am in the Allied officers' mess, so I steal silently out ... couldn't understand a thing they said anyway.

I wander over to a screen rigged up in the jungle and as there are several airmen sitting before it on boxes and things I select a flour drum and sit also, and as darkness approaches so do hundreds of airmen. They sit and shout at each other, eat nuts from tins and drink beer from bottles, but they make so much noise I cannot hear a single merry quip that I could write about because my instructor just might be a woman. I stop straining my ears after a while.

Well, the first picture starts, but every time the hero appears there are a lot of very rude remarks made and a lot of catcalling; when he sings it becomes even worse. I cannot get a sounding at all; the Dutchmen around me are very quiet and I get very uncomfortable perhaps they don't understand either; or perhaps the "hero" is some sort of a quisling or something - and they take these things very seriously. I was afraid of international complications, so I asked an airman on my port side who the singer was, but all I could hear him say above the ruckus was something like "-- basket Sumatra!" which didn't make any sense to me, so I just let it go.

In the middle of the second picture the rain starts again and most of the audience depart with muttered curses as they trip over the boxes and drums and things. Most of those remaining have gas-capes so they are pretty right, but I don't have one although I try to stick it out because Deanna Durbin is in it, and she looks as trim as a new sloop.

Only when the screen is lost in the downpour do I vacate my drum and stumble through the blackness in search of shelter.

The staff of this airstrip have nothing to fear from air attack, it is so well-equipped with slit trenches; they are good trenches, too, and very deep, but I do think the drainage could be improved upon. I carefully inspect them all and explore a lot of jungle and then collide bows on with my shed.

The deck is awash so I put my gear on to another "bed" but there is someone in it with an amazing command of very Free French who seems to think I should put it somewhere else.

Lightning shows up other wayfarers sloshing around their "beds" and a strong tide is now flowing, through the shed bearing empty cases and drums and much of the surrounding forest; but I fall asleep to dream of Iwo Jima and the wreck of the Titanic - so again I missed the merry jokes that may have passed between the jolly travellers.

But when the new wheel comes and I get to a southern city I shall be very observant. Something interesting is sure to happen in a busy place like that and I shall make hundreds of notes. One cannot expect anything like that to happen here.

"STANDFAST"

PHILIPPINE SURVEY

We sailed from Sydney on the 7th December, 1944, our ship, H.M.A.S. Warrego, heading north for more adventures on her fourth commission in tropical waters against the Japanese. Her recent refit had consisted mainly in alterations for survey purposes. It was our job to make charts for the coming events of the next few months.

Many of the crew and several officers were new to the ship, and during the next few weeks the new hands were constantly drilled to train their for the work ahead. We had several gunnery shoots and the accuracy improved as we moved farther north.

"Blue Gallie", our chief stoker, was tearing about the ship with pieces of scrap iron, pots of red paint and sundry tools, organizing his department for a very efficient fire and repair party.

In due course we arrived at Hollandia. The day before we had a narrow escape from tragedy. During a shoot our port third Oerlikon jammed with six shells still in the magazine, which exploded, the gun's captain, Max Sugars, A.B., stopping shrapnel in the face. The wounds were not serious, and in a few days Max was about again. We traded the gun for a new one at Hollandia. Max was Surgeon Lieutenant A. Francis Irvine's first case for the trip, a trip that was to prove an interesting one for him.

Christmas Day fell during our boiler clean, and with a good beer issue and the cooks excelling themselves we had, according to the old hands, one of the best of Christmases.

Buzzes flew thick and fast as to what the next jump would be. Some said Biak, some Morotai, and others Leyte. Leyte it was, and the trip north was without incident, Warrego arriving at Tacloban on New Year's Day, 1945. Eyes popped when the number of ships was seen. The harbour was packed with many types of invasion craft, so a landing looked imminent.

H.M.A.S. Gascoyne, Lieutenant E. J. Peel commanding, was there to meet us. A good deal of ear-bashing was exchanged and sarcastic remarks passed about the two planes shot down during the Leyte Gulf landing in which she took part. Gascoyne was nicknamed Gas-pipe, and did an excellent job rescuing American troops from a blazing Dutch ship.

An American yard minesweeper, 316, later named Pup, was there to work with us.

It wasn't long before the natives were sailing out to us. After we had anchored, a brisk trade started. Jap occupation money and souvenirs soon changed hands for cigarettes. The boys found the natives hard bargainers.

That night guns' crews closed up for action when a red alert sounded, but the ship was not molested. The night was blackened by heavy, low rain clouds and when the Jap bombers passed over the airstrips, bombing, searchlights failed to pierce the darkness. Shore batteries opened up and streaks of tracer disappeared into the clouds. After making their runs the planes departed, leaving us in peace for the rest of the night.

The next morning disclosed a good deal of movement about the harbour. We weighed anchor and put to sea at the rear of a large convoy, which consisted of tankers, landing craft, Liberty ships, minesweepers, Fletcher class destroyers and H.M.A. ships Warrego and Gascoyne, the only two Australian ships present. Gaspipe and ourselves were the rearguard, starboard and port. The crew went into two watches for defence.

Commander K. E. Oom, in charge of the survey group, discussed our movements, telling us to expect a busy time for the next week or so.

During the afternoon we stopped, and a seaman from Gas-pipe was brought aboard suffering from an acute appendicitis. Surgeon Lieutenant A. F. Irvine operated in the wardroom with the assistance of S.B.A. Bowler and the canteen manager, A. H. Hawkins. The operation was in its final stages when Commander Oom's words were backed up, for at dusk the convoy was attacked by two bombers.

A heavy barrage was sent skyward, driving the planes away. Their bombs fell harmlessly

into the sea. This was the first of many raids. The Doc finished his operation to the tune of gunfire and the patient was then transferred to the sick bay.

The convoy forged ahead in quiet tropic waters with a bright bombers' moon to keep us company. An unfriendly night for ships in enemy waters. The night passed quietly though, our next alarm being at 0500 the next morning when our radar contacted an unfriendly aircraft near by. Having located the convoy the Jap made off to tell his mates, and at the crack of dawn eight Nips came out of the gloom, hell-bent on destruction.

Two tankers in the centre of the convoy were singled out for attack. Flak shot skyward, but still the aircraft came on. Here we received our first taste of the suicide bomber. One screamed through the wall of fire to crash alongside a tanker, narrowly missing it. The exploding plane scorched the ship's side and caused the convoy's first casualty when a U.S. sailor was killed by splinters. He was buried at sea the next day.

Gascoyne was blazing away with her guns. Bombs were dropped near us, but failed to do any damage. As quickly as they had come the aircraft were gone, but not before four planes had fallen to our fire.

To date we had not been told of our destination, and during the afternoon Commander K. E. Oom, R.A.N., and our captain, Lieutenant C. A. Byrne, R.A.N.V.R., spread a map before us and told us the news. A landing was to be made on the north-west coast of Luzon at Lingayen. We had several strong Jap bases to pass, so it looked like being a bomb alley for the force as we sailed up the west coast of the Philippines. The knowledge that the Japs had many airstrips in the vicinity was no comfort.

The rest of the day was free from raids, but during the night three red alerts kept us on our toes although no planes attacked the convoy.

Throughout the next morning the tankers oiled. the small craft at sea and on completion put into Mindoro, which we passed during the afternoon. When we were about thirty miles farther north we heard a terrific thump. Looking back we could see a huge column of smoke billowing skyward. We later heard that it was an ammunition ship that had blown up while at anchor.

A task force of escort carriers, cruisers and destroyers were in our vicinity providing fighter cover which, during the day, prevented many Jap fighters and bombers from reaching the force.

A Fletcher class destroyer, U.S.S. Bennion, H.M.A. ships Gascoyne and Warrego, were now the largest ships in the convoy. We three provided the main armament.

Early next morning we passed Manila. Our fighters were masters of the skies and reconnaissance planes were patrolling over the mainland on the lookout for Japs. Two ships were seen to leave Manila Bay in the afternoon and the recco reported them as cruisers and heading towards the convoy. The report didn't make us very happy as none of us could outgun a cruiser. Bennion turned about at
full speed with Gaspipe and Warrego following. The convoy kept on its course.

A fresh report from the recco corrected the first message to say the ships, which were now hull down, were destroyers. They had turned about, not wishing to engage a larger force. We had now opened fire. Bennion, with her superior speed, was now well ahead and rapidly closing the range. A burst of flame from the destroyer showed that she had again opened fire. The Jap destroyers were now laying a smoke screen and returning fire. After ten minutes of intense shelling the Jap destroyers, one of them damaged by Bennion, broke off the action.

Carrier planes were now on the scene and bombed the fleeing Nips who, unbeknown to them, were heading for a large task force rapidly coming up from the south. Caught between two fires they didn't have a chance and a report received later indicated that they were sunk.

The engagement over, we turned about and returned to our convoy which, by this time, was thirty miles or so north of us. The chase and battle had taken us from 2-30 till 5 o'clock that afternoon and not until seven did we sight the topmasts of the other ships. As dusk fell lookouts reported tracer ahead. It looked as if our convoy were being attacked. We sped on, but night had fallen before we caught up to them.

A strong enemy force had hit our convoy just on dusk when Bennion, Warrego and Gascoyne were way behind. Seven Nips were shot down, but not before one had crash dived an L.C.I. The aircraft had come in astern, smashing its mast and exploding on the fo'c'sle. When the tally was made several men were found to be missing, having been blown overboard or jumped to escape the flames. One other was mortally injured, one seriously wounded, and several slightly so.

The badly wounded of the crew were transferred on board us and the medical officer had some more work on his hands. The appendix case had been doing well and had moved from the sick bay to the Doc's cabin under his own power. His bunk was taken over by the badly wounded Yank.

The fifth day brought us close to San Fernando, situated at the northern end of Lingayen Gulf. The morning was cloudy, ideal for enemy planes. The sun was barely up when a Zeke popped out astern of us. The after 20-MM. gunners were wide awake and fired several drums at him. Strange to relate, although in an ideal position to do so, the Jap did not bomb or strafe us as he zoomed past our starboard side. The 4-inch came to bear and opened up. Still we missed him. Shrapnel burst all around him as he disappeared into the clouds. Later we heard that he had crashed, verification coming from another ship.

Carrier planes arrived on the scene and throughout the morning engaged several of the enemy attempting to attack us.

The force now entered Lingayen Gulf, and there we met the Australian cruisers H.M.A. ships Shropshire and Australia, also H.M.A. destroyers Arunta and Warramunga. This made six Australian ships taking part in the action, working with the American force.

A.S.R.V. H.M.A.S. Air Cloud.

The minesweepers were the first to enter the gulf, followed by a destroyer screen outside of which came the battleships and cruisers and another destroyer screen. The larger ships entered the gulf in line-ahead formation and began bombarding the shore installations. Fires were soon blazing as enemy targets were hit and ignited.

A Nip plane dived out of the clouds and at first sight appeared to be heading for Aussie. He passed over her and carried on for a battleship. The anti-aircraft guns and exploding shells made a deafening row in their endeavours to kill the Jap. Still he came on. Tojo had almost reached his target when a broadside sent him down in flames.

Ten minutes later another suicide bomber crashed on U.S.S. Brooks, crippling her. Five more dived on the task force only to meet with disaster. Three were shot down, one with a direct hit. The others dropped their bombs in the sea without doing any damage. As they made off, one was damaged by flak and was seen to crash close inshore near San Fernando, which by now was a blazing inferno. Our own aircraft intercepted many of the enemy, shooting them down before they could reach the force.

A second task force joined us late in the morning. Their seaplanes flew over the target area correcting fall of shot. As the survey ships made their sounding runs, several Nips tried to break through the terrific flak, only to crash in flames before coming within bombing range.

There were ninety ships present, and carrier planes continually overhead. The heavy ships continued bombarding as they drew near Lingayen town. Railway lines, bridges and roads were their targets, and these came under continuous shelling till dusk, when we turned about and put to sea.

Nip attacked again as the sun was sinking. The dazzling glare on the water made gunnery difficult as the dive and torpedo bombers made their runs. Warrego and Gascoyne were at the head of the force and, looking back, we could see many near misses amongst the heavy ships. One aircraft dived on Aussie, crashing amidships. A flash and a heavy cloud of black smoke arose, but the fire was quickly extinguished and she did not lose her place in the line.

As we sailed out of the gulf, H.M.A.S. Arunta passed us on our port side, towing

U.S.S. Brooks, whose engines were put out of commission that morning. We could not escape without a parting shot from Nip. Another plane attacked H.M.A.S. Shropshire. Her pom-poms opened up and a burst of shots disintegrated the plane. The crew were blown out, their 'chutes opened and they drifted down towards the centre of the force. Shrops was showered with pieces of plane. One of the parachutists dropped from his 'chute into the sea. His mate landed a few miles offshore.

The spotting planes landed and were hoisted inboard and secured. Sunday, the 7th January, saw us back in the gulf again at daybreak. Gaspipe took over Brooks during the early hours and with Warrego escorting them we made for shallow water, where the damaged ship was anchored and abandoned after the burial of the members of her crew who had been killed.

Two other U.S. destroyers passed close to us, both showing signs of damage. To date our losses had been comparatively light, with a number of ships damaged by aircraft.

Warrego and Gascoyne headed into the bay and began laying flag buoys to mark the channel into the beaches where the landing was to take place. Pup (Y-M-S-3Z6) tagged along behind us. While we were about our business the force, which was several miles from us, was bombed. It was too far away to see any results. A carrier plane spotted a barge sneaking along the coast, and strafed and sank it.

The task force was scattered over a stretch of coast thirty miles or more long and, when in position, began shelling again. Nothing escaped their slow methodical fire and by noon there was a haze of smoke from San Fernando in the north to the foot of Lingayen Gulf. Our carrier planes were masters of the sky and the Nips did not put in an appearance. When the day drew to a close we again put to sea. The minesweepers were in the lead and, 'just before the sun set, shot down a sneak raider.

At 0600 the next morning the alarm sounded for surface craft. A Jap barge was trying to sneak out of the gulf and we had almost run into it. We could barely make out a camouflage net that covered it. After hailing it several times and receiving no answer, Captain Byrne gave the order for close-range weapons to open fire.

Oerlikon gunners soon pumped several drums into the target. It was point-blank range and the explosive shells burst like red sparks. We left the barge sinking, and a Yank gunboat finished it off.

Monday was D-day minus one and it was a busy one for the survey ships. There was a sunken Jap freighter in the bay and on this we put a wreck flag. Several other flag buoys were laid.

The task force pounded the shore again and were attacked by two Nip planes, which they shot down before any damage was done. It was the enemy's only attack that day.

D-day arrived at last. The 9th January will live in the memories of many of us. The sight that met our eyes was astounding. Lingayen Gulf was packed with landing craft of all descriptions. They were there in hundreds. Soon we were to see the rewards of our labour.

The landings were to be made at two points. San Fernando in the north and Lingayen in the south.

The battleships were already hammering the beachheads. Assault ships unloaded their troops into waiting barges, which sped shoreward. Landing-dock ships sank stern first as they flooded their central compartments, the lock gate was lowered and out sped the ducks and barges to join the throngs already on their way to the beach. The bay was a mass of moving craft.

The bombardment rose in a frenzy of sound and the shore was hidden from the harbour by a pall of dust and smoke. Towards this the rocket-ships steamed, raced towards the beach, fired their lethal loads, and sped out again.

The first wave hit the beach at 09 15. The firing from the task force died down to a stray shot here and there as enemy targets were found and smashed.

From where the survey group lay the shore was hidden in the haze. No enemy planes showed up and, by 1000 hours, a string of Very lights shot up over the land, signifying that the Army had established its beachhead and was already half a mile inland.

A front-line hospital ship entered the bay during the morning, and the wounded U.S. sailors we had on board were transferred to her.

The firing died down in the afternoon, and tons of equipment were unloaded without interference from the enemy. The three Nips that came over at dusk met such a hall of steel that they turned away.

Aussie and Shrops passed us that afternoon after having done a considerable amount of shelling. Aussie showed a good deal of damage.

The L.C.Is laid a smoke screen on the harbour that evening. It effectively hid the shipping, and when the Nips came at dusk they did no damage. The survey force had to survey a river at Lingayen, and Warrego anchored close inshore.

On D-day plus two, a Nip sneaked in at dawn and did a strafing run on the troops ashore. Plus three dawned with the usual smoke screen around the bay but no sign of the enemy, They pulled a fast one this morning, however, coming over when the smoke had cleared. Two planes attacked, one to be shot down before reaching the shipping, while the other crash-dived on a U.S. destroyer, starting, a fire which was soon extinguished.

We finished our survey work that evening and sailed for Leyte in a hundred-ship convoy. Except for two nuisance raids on the way, of one plane each, the trip was uneventful.

So ended our first Philippine landing.

A brief rest at Tacloban followed the Lingayen landing. H.M.A.S. Warrego stored and oiled ship, then set off north again.

The next landing was to take place at a point north of Manila, San Antonio by name. The convoy was a fast one, and the three days we took to get there were remarkable in that there was a complete absence of enemy aircraft.

San Antonio was reached on the last day of February, 1945, at dawn. As it grew light a number of canoes were seen to come out from ashore. Their crew hailed a destroyer and, on being questioned, informed the admiral in charge of operations that the Japanese had last visited the town a fortnight back, on a punitive expedition, for the villagers had been flying the American flag. Since then the Nips had not returned. The guerrilla forces moved in later and held the pass leading to Subic Bay,

H.M.A.S. Warrego was the only Australian ship in the operation. Her duties consisted of marking the reefs and channels leading to the beaches. This we did in the morning and, when finished, anchored close inshore, where we had a good view of the landing craft in action. The natives lined the beaches to cheer the returning Americans.

Two Filipino officers came aboard our ship and were to act as guides for our next job. They informed us that a beached Jap tanker that lay close inshore had been sunk by an American bomber force. The tanker had its bows blown off.

The next morning a small force of minesweepers sailed ahead of Warrego into Subic Bay, at the entrance of which was a fortified island. U.S. planes had severely bombed it and when troops landed there was no sign of Japs. When we entered the bay a canoe came out from shore with an ex-sergeant of the Philippine Army who had escaped the Japs at the fall of Bataan. He informed us of the position of the Japs, of which there were few.

A rearguard force had been left behind at Subic naval base, and on our entry into the bay had begun demolishing installations. Minesweepers, while clearing the bay, encountered no enemy fire.

U.S. troops, with guerrillas, moved rapidly down the coast road from San Antonio, meeting with very little opposition on the way. While doing sounding runs in the bay we could hear gunfire and see shells bursting on a point overlooking the beaches. A small Jap force had been left behind at this point, near Olongapo town. The Yanks hammered them for half an hour. A few well-placed mortar bombs burst right in their trenches, killing the lot.

Warrego sailed into the inner harbour with the minesweepers to provide counter battery fire if required.

A number of sunken ships lay in the anchorages, and these had to be found and charted. Most of the ships had been sunk by the U.S. air force some time previously. Some, however, were American, having been caught there when the Japs had swept down through the islands in 1942. With our launches, equipped with sounding gear, we soon made quick work of locating the hulks.

When the anchorage had been swept and charted it was declared safe for shipping, and soon several task forces put in there to oil and store ship. Amongst these infrequent visitors was H.M.A.S. Arunta.

H.M.A.S. Cape Leeuwin joined the survey force here, having been selected for the job of relighting the lighthouses throughout the Philippines. From here this little ship sailed for Manila, and was the first Australian ship to call there since the city's liberation.

From Subic we went to Mindoro, where another landing force had gathered. The next job was to be at Zamboanga on the island of Mindanao. The Japs had a considerable force on this island and a good deal of opposition was expected. The pre-invasion force was to reach there two days before the actual landing, and the survey work was to be done by H.M.A.S. Warrego, the only Australian vessel to take part in the operation.

Shortly after daybreak on the 8th March, 1945, we sailed along the coast of Zamboanga, our presence unopposed. Cruisers, destroyers and gunboats, preceded by sweepers, steamed along, and when in range began shelling the enemy. Kingfisher seaplanes were lowered from the cruisers. A short run on the calm waters and they were airborne. Flying overhead the pilots gave a cheery wave and headed for the shoreline, where they spotted for the force.

Fall of shot was watched and corrected and in a short while numerous fires were blazing and a dense cloud of smoke curled skyward. At 1000 hours twenty-four Liberator bombers arrived at the scene of the operations. They made several bombing runs on the airstrip, which was close to the coast. The morning air was split with the thunder of bursting bombs. Clouds of dust and smoke climbed up and several fires were set going.

The force steamed up and down the bay throughout the morning, sweepers seeking mines; cruisers, destroyers and gunboats seeking targets to shell. H.M.A.S. Warrego made sounding runs and dropped buoys to mark reefs and anchorages, while overhead our fighters patrolled the skies and the Kingfishers directed the shooting.

Warrego fired her first angry shots in the afternoon when, as we passed close inshore sounding, bridge lookouts spotted a speeding truck travelling along the coast road. Four salvos were fired but not quite quick enough, for the truck disappeared around a bend in the road. It was the first sign of the enemy we had seen to date. No Jap planes worried us, for all the nearby bases had been subjected to heavy bombing.

That evening the force put to sea, only to return at dawn when the shelling began anew. The whistling of the cruisers' shells passed over our heads as we began to close in towards the shore. Spent cordite cases and ammo boxes soon littered the bay.

By 0900 hours on the 9th Warrego had crept within half a mile of the shore. Our purpose was to lay flagged buoys to mark the approaches to the beachheads. Ahead of us, on either side, landing craft gunboats pounded away with their 40-mm, cannons. The steady pom-pom-pom developed into a crescendo of sound. Gunnery did not concern us, our flag buoys were to be laid.

Several fountains of grey water shot up on either side of us as shore batteries sought our range. Upper-deck personnel and guns' crews

hit the deck smartly as shell splinters whined across our decks and rattled against the ship's side. Several splinters landed on the deck and were grabbed up quickly for souvenirs. No damage was done and the only casualties were A.B. Gross and the captain, Lieutenant C. A. Byrne, who were scratched by the fragments.

The captain ordered an about-face to remove us from the range of the enemy, and our 4-inch guns returned their fire. U.S. cruisers sent their salvos over our heads. Two 6-inch shells left twin trails of smoke from the tracer as they sped shoreward. Trees, earth and smoke erupted where they hit. A gun duel raged between the destroyers and the enemy, whose well-camouflaged positions were hard to locate.

While we were pounding away the Liberators arrived. The whole bay reverberated to the concussion of exploding H.E. A Kingfisher scout spotted the flash of a 6-inch gun and signalled the force. A few well-placed salvos sent up a volume of smoke. A direct hit started a large fire.

The deafening, teeth-jarring crash of our guns ceased as we stood offshore to watch the Liberators going in for a second run. As we watched them pass over their target, one of

the bombers exploded. A wing fluttered away and the wrecked craft dived to the beach. Only one of the crew managed to parachute to safety. The rest perished with their plane. As no enemy flak was visible the cause of the crash was a mystery to us. Later it was rumoured that the plane had flown beneath the formation and had been hit by a bomb from one of the aircraft above. To date this was our only loss.

Having silenced the Jap batteries we prepared for a second run. Nobody appeared to notice the time passing for it was well into the afternoon before we were in position again. Our launch Alert and motor-boat Blowfly were lowered and manned, Sub-Lieutenant D. L. Cole in charge. With the flag buoys on board they left to mark the approach lanes for the combat troops who were to land the next morning.

Blowfly and Alert sped shoreward, the crews manning light machine guns and rifles and on the lookout for enemy fire. Their position was almost reached and the crews ready to drop their flags when the Nips, who had held their fire till then, let go a burst of machine-gun bullets which splattered the water beside the speeding launches. Commander Oom, in charge of survey operations, was viewing this from the Warrego's bridge and, calling the boats on their walky-talky sets, ordered their immediate return. Our 4inch covered the launches' retreat sending several salvos into the Jap positions, keeping them quiet for a while.

A signal was sent to the admiral of the task force explaining the situation and he, in turn, ordered his gunboats to strafe the shore in the hope of knocking out the enemy guns.

As the flotilla of craft moved along the shore, our launches started off once more, the crew having volunteered to complete this hazardous operation. They fell in line, with the gunboats on either side.

As they sailed parallel to the shore the gunboats poured a withering stream of rockets and 40-mm. shells into the jungle, ahead and astern of the launches, while palm trees toppled and shrapnel slashed the undergrowth. Amidst this continuous stream of fire and uproar the launches laid the flag buoys on their run along the beach.

When the end of the section was reached, the gunboats and launches turned about and began a return run to lay a second line of buoys closer to the shore.

The enemy had not fired a single shot to date, and the run looked like being a success. Alert was leading, and rapidly drawing near the finish of the section with one flag to go, which was dropped within a few yards of the jungle-clad beach. A moment later a burst of cannon fire hit Alert on her port side amidships smashing the gunwale and riddling the canvas awning, setting it on fire.

Splinters from the exploded shells holed the petrol tank, wounded U.S.N.R. Lieutenant Davies, beach scout, and Survey Recorder Eric Mole, R.A.N.R. Blowfly's crew, while returning towards Alert, fired bursts of Tommy gun and Bren at the hidden Japs. The fire on Alert was extinguished and first aid administered to the wounded. Eric Mole had lost a lot of blood, and the bandages stemmed the flow slightly.

By now the gunboats were pounding the shore. Like beings possessed, the Japs threw caution to the winds and replied with machine-gun, cannon and mortar fire. A burst hit the water near Warrego as she replied with her main armament. The Japs failed to do any further damage.

The medical officer met Alert at the gangway and injected morphine into the wounded before transferring them to the wardroom, where our action first-aid party had rigged the table for operating.

Our task completed, and the launches stowed aboard, we turned seaward, falling into line with the squadron. As we sailed out of the bay f or the night we could see the buoy flags fluttering in the breeze.

The force spent a quiet night at sea, but another battle was fought in the wardroom, where Doc Irvine slaved over the wounded. Not until after several hours' work did the Doc say the boys were out of the danger zone, for they both had a good deal of scrap iron in them.

The 10th March dawned a fine day for the invaders. The bay was still, and up it sailed the landing force, which had rendezvoused with us at dawn. The morning air was soon vibrating with the crash of gunfire, as round after round was poured into the beachhead. Liberators appeared on the scene, and the exploding bombs added to the din. Everybody was anxious to have a shot at the Japs, and soon Warrego was shaking with the blast of gunfire.

Rocket-ships sped towards the beach, and with a blinding flash their. rockets sped in fiery arcs to crash amongst the palm trees and jungle. Boston bombers came skimming over the hills, hugging the treetops, strafing the Jap lines. The tune of their cannon was like the rolling of thunder and as they shot upwards at the end of their run, delayed action bombs exploded along the strip, adding further to the consternation of the already stunned enemy.

The first wave hit the beach at 0915 hours, amidst spasmodic shelling from the Japs. The naval barrage lifted and crept farther inland as U.S. troops pushed ahead. Soon the barrage ceased. The landing had been successful. The army pushed inland and at about 1100 hours a terrific thump was heard. A column of smoke rose above the trees and flames shot skywards. We found out later that the Japs had hit a Yank dump of equipment just brought ashore.

A burst of spray, soon followed by another, appeared astern of one of the landing craft. What was evidently a mortar sent over bombs every few seconds. The fire was too high, missing the craft by many yards. Around noon the Yanks had silenced this nuisance for keeps.

Sounds of battle quietened somewhat during the afternoon as the Yanks consolidated their positions. The task force put to sea at dusk to lessen the chances of surprise night attacks by Nip E-boats or midget subs.

The morning of the 11th saw us at anchor on Santa Cruz bank, a mile from Zamboanga landing, which the Yanks had already taken. Enemy resistance was very light. Friendly natives came out in canoes. Salutations had hardly been exchanged before several shells straddled us. Lookouts spotted flashes coming from a hill overlooking the harbour. No time was lost in removing our presence from the immediate vicinity. The natives paddled furiously to a nearby island, where they disappeared in the bush. Several more shells landed in the water near us, but not close enough to do any damage. Cruisers and destroyers were not long in getting the range, and after a fifteen-minute duel with the Japs our fire proved too much for them and the battle closed in our favour, as we suffered no casualties nor were any ships damaged.

Another convoy arrived during the day, and except for occasional Jap shelling of the landing area there was no excitement. When the ships had unloaded they gathered in the bay, and at dusk weighed anchor and sailed for Mindoro, with Warrego acting as part of the screen.

A large convoy of assault and landing craft had gathered at Mindoro, and here we fuelled and stored ship to be ready for our next landing, which was to be at Ilo Ilo on the island of Panay.

L.S.Ts, L.C.Is and L.C.Ms had rehearsals during our stay, and they made a fine show as they steamed in perfect formation while doing their manoeuvres.

Enemy troops were known to be few on Panay, and no bombardment of the beachheads was thought necessary. U.S. cruisers and destroyers came along to provide protection just in case something did crop up. They met the landing force on the morning of the i8th March and stood by while American and Filipino troops sped ashore.

As it turned out, they were not needed, for the troops took the beachheads without firing a shot. They marched into the city by midday, and even here the resistance encountered was negligible.

The Ilo Ilo River, running through the township, required surveying before shipping could use it. This job occupied our launches for the next few days during which time mail arrived and the troops' morale went up 100 per cent. The town had hardly been damaged, and in a few days the native population returned to welcome the liberators.

On completing the survey Warrego departed.

The end of March 1945 saw Warrego sailing into Manila Bay, where she had several weeks of survey work ahead of her.

As we sailed into the bay many eyes were turned to Corregidor, where the Yanks and Filipinos had made their gallant stand three years before. Sounds of gunfire reached our ears, and on looking ahead we saw a bombarding force shelling Caballe Island, situated a few miles from Corregidor. Aircraft were laying a smoke screen to shroud the landing troops. A small force of Japs were garrisoned on this island and they were now being mopped up. Splashes were reported on our starboard side, and we found later these were shells from the Nips on E. L. Fraile Island. The Yanks later routed them out. By noon we had arrived in Manila.

In the outer harbour, around the breakwater and choking the inner harbour, were ships by the score. American planes had struck the Jap Navy a mortal blow here when the concentration of shipping was bombed and sunk. Many of the ships were scuttled when the Japs realized that escape was impossible. Wrecks that had obstructed the shipping lanes had been shifted by the Yanks and, three weeks after the liberation of Manila, the inner harbour was usable to a certain extent. A modest estimate of the ships sunk was three hundred and seventy-five. These included destroyers, cruisers, tankers, the Jap version of Liberty ships, troopships and scores of smaller craft.

H.M.A.S. Warrego's )ob was to survey the port area and chart all the wrecks that menaced shipping. We had a pretty busy time ahead.

A few days after our arrival, a Liberty ship came in and approached the wharf which had been vacated early that morning. The heavily laden freighter crossed our bows, a matter of thirty yards between us, when a terrific "crump" focused all eyes on her. A cloud of smoke rose from her after hold, the hoists and riggings bounced around. A head popped up astern. One of the crew had been blown overboard, landing near a Carley float which had gone over with him. Lieutenant C. A. Byrne ordered the motor-boat away to pick the sailor up. He had managed to climb into the float, where he was flopping about. He was badly shocked and would have drowned had he not been promptly rescued.

The Liberty ship, by this time, was making water fast. Tugs raced to the scene and nosed her into shallow water, where she settled on the sea bed. Investigation proved that the ship had hit a mine that had somehow escaped the sweepers.

Three other members of the crew were also injured, and a barge brought them alongside the ship, where the Doc, as usual, took charge. None of the cases was serious. All were suffering from shock, two had broken ankles, and one of the latter had had a bath in oil when he was blown into a tank. By afternoon an ambulance barge had removed the injured to their hospital, all doing well.

This incident happened on the 31st March and, in the words of the Doc, "finished the quarter up nicely". Ten wounded, two appendicitis cases, a shell shock and some minor casualties. All in his first three months at sea and in his first ship. It had proved a very interesting trip for him.

Warrego's boats swept the area for mines and the following day the bay was again declared open.

The rest of our stay was without excitement, but plenty of hard work for the survey recorders kept us in Manila till the middle of April, when we departed for more adventures in other seas.

"Jock"