Chapter 9 WRANS Go To Sea; A Good Towing Feat; DDT; An Ill Wind

WRANS GO TO SEA

Yes, it had come at last. The W.R.A.N.S. were to get their sea training. At 1330 one sunny and disappointingly calm afternoon an orderly party of W.R.A.N.S. boarded H.M.A.S. Allenwood and saluted the quarter deck in true naval style. They were instructed to go for'ard and assemble on the hatch. Just a group of maccas, but someone who knew a lot about ships led the way and no faux-pas were made.

As H.M.A.S. Allenwood slipped, a tribute of respect was paid to another H.M.A. ship berthed at the pier and as the bos'n's pipe sounded off the girls sprang to attention in true nautical style and the respective captains saluted from the bridge. Then the W.R.A.N.S. formed small groups and assisted by a cheery three-badge petty officer-an old salt-made a determined attempt to learn all they could about the drill concerning a minesweeper, so that their efficiency in naval routine would be increased.

The supply assistants were interested in the victualling store, where they were shown the supplies for the entire ship's company for approximately one month. The eyes of the socially minded became literally glued to the numerous tins of salmon, fruit, etc., which were stowed in orderly manner in their respective racks. Those attached to the degaussing offices were shown the battery room and the L.T.O.'s workshop, and several would-be gunners trained the guns on an approaching ship and would have scored a direct hit had the guns been in action-so they said. The

mechanically minded found their way to the engine and boiler rooms and made a weak attempt at stoking the roaring furnaces. They thanked the grimy stoker and left him shovelling coal from the deck (which was meant for the furnace).

By the time seven bells were sounded the "sea-going" W.R.A.N.S. were ten miles down the bay and, amazingly, still on their course. I say "amazingly" because several W.R.A.N.S. had spent the entire time on the bridge and in the wheel-house, where the enthusiastic skipper had allowed them to take the helm. These girls, alert and eager, were soon responding in seasoned fashion to their instructor's "Hard-a-starboard", "Port 15", "Midships", "Steady", etc.

The R.A.N. observes "stand easy" wherever it may be. Therefore it was not surprising when the bos'n's mate piped "Hands to tea", but the pleasant manner and painstaking care with which the personnel of the ship looked after their guests, surpassed all expectation.

The most amusing incident of the afternoon was provided by several W.R.A.N.S. who tried the difficult art of swinging into a hammock, and just made it, thanks to the assistance given by salty Jack Tars.

On arrival back at the pier, the party thanked their hosts, and quickly regained their land legs. With that "longing for a sea draft" look they marched back to their land depot.

"ONE of THEM"

A GOOD TOWING FEAT

H.M.A. Ships Warrnambool, Inverell and Karangi meeting H.M.S. Helford, floating docks, tugs and escorts, near Australia, 12/5/45. By "Rocky Darby"

THERE was a sigh of relief in the Naval Staff Office, Darwin, when Australian Floating Dock (A.F.D.) 18, and her escorting vessels and tugs, were safely anchored. For the rattle of cables through hawse pipes on this occasion marked the completion in Australia of long and eventful tows which had commenced, in the first place, at Greenock, Scotland, when A.F.D.20 - a sister dock to A.F.D.18 - had departed from that port in December 1944, in tow of H.M.R. tugs Destiny and Eminent.

Earlier in the war A.F.D.20, being identical with an enemy floating dock then located in Norwegian waters, was used by midget submarines of the Royal Navy as a practice target, it being intended later to carry out a midget-submarine operation against the enemy dock. In addition to acting as a practice target, A.F.D.20 also docked the midget submarines before they proceeded on their successful mission against her German opposite number.

H.M.R. tugs Destiny and Eminent, with A.F.D. 20 in tow, commenced the long tow to Darwin on the 31st December, 1944, when the vessels departed from Greenock for Gibraltar. New Year's Day was passed in fine weather, but shortly afterwards the weather deteriorated, causing Destiny and Eminent, together with A.F.D. 20, to pitch and roll so heavily that Eminent's steering gear carried away. Although her engineers repaired the damage with the aid of the galley fire, Eminent was relieved by another tug so that she could put in to an adjacent port for repairs. Rough weather continued until Gibraltar was reached on the 12th January, 1945.

Following the completion of various repairs, Destiny and A.F.D.2o departed from Gibraltar on the next stage of the voyage, leaving Eminent to follow. Eminent overtook the tow at a most opportune moment when Destiny was in trouble. Eminent took over the tow, and Destiny proceeded to Oran for repairs.

Eminent and A.F.D.20proceeded to Bizerta where they were joined by Destiny, and sailed for Malta, reaching there on the 27th January and leaving again five days later for Port Said. Good weather was experienced on passage, and port was reached on the 7th February. Six days later Suez was left astern and a good-weather passage was made down the Red Sea until, two days before reaching Aden, a considerable swell was experienced. Arriving on the21st February, tugs and tow departed from Aden on the 25th of the month and reached Cochin at daylight on the 10th March. Here their numbers were swelled by A.F.D. 18 and her tugs, and escort vessels for the passage to Australia.

The whole convoy departed from Cochin but was soon reduced in numbers. Shortly after leaving port Eminent caught fire in her engine-room, and although the fire was extinguished by her crew she had to proceed to Colombo, towed by H.M.R. tug Cheerly. To add to the troubles Destiny had a fire, but got it out successfully. Some days later A.F.D.2o broke adrift from Destiny in the early hours of the morning, and it was five hours before the tow was secured again. Cheerly, however, rejoining the convoy, eased the situation for the other tugs. Water and fuel supplies being low by this time, the tanker Eagles Dale rendezvoused and supplied the vessels with those necessities.

Heavy weather was again encountered, and seas commenced breaking over the docks to such an extent that their boats were in danger of damage. Good seamanship, however, and an ingenious idea of raising and forming a breakwater around them, saved the boats from harm.

By this time the convoy was near Australia, and H.M.A.S. Warrnambool and H.M.A.S Inverell having joined, these ships were ordered to escort A.F.D.20, towed by Destiny, and proceed independently towards Darwin, which was reached on the 2 2nd May. Destiny and A.F.D.20 had by this time completed a voyage of 11,313 miles, with a steaming time Of 2036 hours at an average speed Of 5-56 knots.

In the meantime H.M.A.S. Karangi had joined A.F.D.18 and company and provided them with stores and fresh provisions. A.F.D. 18 with her attendant vessels arrived in Darwin on the 24th May and remained there until towed by H.M.A.S. Heros and Salvestor to Thursday Island for onward passage to her destination. The escorting vessels for this part of the voyage were H.M.A. ships Goulburn and Tamworth. A.F.D.20, towed by her constant companion Destiny, assisted by H.M.A.S. Sprightly, also departed from Darwin to continue her voyage to her destination. Other vessels which were in this convoy from Britain and India to Australia were H.M.S. Helford, H.M.S. Plym, H.M.S. Odzani, H.M.S. Usk, H.M.S. Barle, H.M.S. Advantage and H.M.S. Empire Sam.

"ROCKY DARBY"

A.S. 331 TRAWLERS

You have heard of Survey Notes (A.S.331's), but have you heard of Survey Trawlers? What, no? Well neither had we.

In August 1944 it was thought by us that the usefulness of trawlers had had it, so when on the 29th of that month we sailed for Sydney the buzz was "Back she goes to the fishing game", and the big query, "Wonder where I'll get a draft to?" It was, therefore, rather a shock when we suddenly found ourselves one of three trawlers belonging to a unit with the frightening name "T.U. 70-5.2", and all fitted out with all sorts of doolackies for surveying.

The strategic value of a safe channel for large ships, both naval and merchant, through Torres Strait is obvious, and it was there our task unit based itself to carry out a thorough survey of the area. Then followed a year of solid work with sweeps strange to Australian waters and at first strange to us. Our main sweep was the bottom sweep (sounds rude, doesn't it), but it is simply (?) a wire between two ships, kept on the bottom by special planning boards. Any object protruding from the bottom catches in the wire, the ships shorten in to it, and carefully plot its position. Smaller craft of the unit run close lines of soundings over it and, if necessary, drift sweeps set at varying depths are run over it until its exact height is ascertained.

In this way a channel covering hundreds of square miles was carefully surveyed. Hard work, yes, and hot work, too, in the tropics, and a wind which forgets to get below Force 5. There was plenty of coal ship also, and tinned food, and very little com ort, but at last the job was completed. Our reward was
the following signal from the commander of our unit:

"Good-bye and happy landfalls. You have carried out the survey excellently and speedily, although at times it must have been dull. With the result that it has been of great value to big ships during the past few months, and it will be, in the future, for the country."

Nice work, Durraween, Goolgwai and Samuel Benbow, but you are not for the fishing game yet. There are still mines to be swept, and so the game goes on.

Yes! it appears the Cinderellas love themselves, but, then, they have no fairy princes.

PS. Did we forget to mention H.M.S. Challenger, H.M.A.S. Shepparton, H.M.A.S. Polaris and M.L. 1353? Sorry!

"C. THYME"

BALIKPAPAN CONVOY

26th June. Joined H.M.A.S. Warrego at the assembly point for the convoy to attack Balikpapan. From all comers of the harbour came ships milling around in apparent confusion, but as each reached the departure point at her scheduled minute the long lines took on a regular form. Stretching in columns over a matter of miles are more than a hundred ships, ships of conventional design and craft of the various revolutionary types that the peculiar needs of modern warfare demand. In the van, their accustomed position for the re-conquest of Japan's Greater East Asia, are H.M.A. ships Manoora, Kanimbla and Westralia.

Warrego in her role of survey ship will not e called upon to undertake prior to the operation the hazardous hydrographic work which e has performed in more than half a dozen previous landings. The approaches to Balikpapan, because of its commercial importance, e well charted. The strategical importance f Leyte and Lingayen gulfs, for example, could not be foreseen by the hydrographer, and extensive survey work under the noses of the enemy was required to prevent disaster from uncharted reefs and shoals. Mango and .M.S.196, two U.S.N. ships attached to the Australian survey group, however, have been lent to the minesweeping flotilla which is now clearing the approaches to the beach. Mango, with an R.A.N.V.R. surveyor on board, will the buoys necessary to guide the assault raft.

Ahead, astern and on each flank of the convoy is the screen of warships. One tends to visualize convoying destroyers as sheep dogs shepherding ships into line and scurrying all over the sea. A good sheep dog does not waste energy, and a destroyer does not waste fuel by unnecessary speed. Each ship has her orders and obeys them. Each destroyer has her own sector to protect against submarine and air attack. Forces are adequate, and none has too much to do.

27th June. It is strange to think that an enemy stronghold is the destination of this convoy. Nothing could seem more peaceful than these lines of ships, some graceful, others waddling at a slow and dignified speed. There is more immediate interest in a ship which falls slightly out of line than there is in the prospects of the operation.

As for secrecy, there were Nips to watch our departure and there were Nips on each of the volcanic islands between which we passed today. Perhaps our failure to give the slightest sign of recognition of their presence made them feel that they had lost face.

29th June. Fortunately for the soldiers in the landing craft the weather has been good. Fortunately, not because soldiers should necessarily be bad sailors, but because conditions in the landing craft are very cramped. This does not indicate a shortage of shipping for the operation. The greater the concentration of troops that can be poured ashore from one craft, the quicker the initial assault can develop, and thus each must be loaded to capacity.

There might have been a "snooper" aircraft to check our position today, but none came.

What will the Nip do about this invasion? He is unpredictable.

29th June. Radio Tokyo told us we are on the way, but so far no practical interest has been shown in this phenomenon.

We have been joined by a group of ships from another base. Our welcome to one who has taken up station close to us is not enthusiastic. She is an ammunition ship.

The flagship made a signal directing that tin hats are to be worn between decks while we are in the objective area. This is to prevent personnel being stunned on the deck-head above if a ship is lifted bodily by a mine. The order is not popular.

30th June. A tug in the next column paid homage to King Neptune as we crossed the Line. Race results from the A.B.C.

1st July. F-day. In the early hours huge fires glow red. The sudden tropical dawn shows ships deploying to their appointed stations. Watches could be set by the schedule timed to the minute. Two hours before the landing the cruisers and destroyers again take up their work of destruction begun a fortnight ago. There is no hurry nor bustle. Each salvo is fired with precise deliberation at pin-pointed targets. H.M.A. ships Shropshire, Hobart and Arunta combine with U.S.N. ships in this ruthless bombardment. Destroyers and rocket firing smaller ships move in to obliterate life, Japanese life, from the beaches. Over the whole scene hangs a pall of smoke.

Aircraft arrive at their appointed minute sowing a crop of vivid flashes. Another wave of heavy bombers follows, leaving contemptuously behind it the lazy puffs of anti-aircraft bursts.

The landing craft ran in and the 7th A.I.F. Division stream ashore. Soon reports begin to flow in from the R.A.N. Beachmaster. Each wave is arriving on schedule. There is no resistance yet, and there have been no casualties on the beaches. In these reports there is satisfaction for the Navy and Air Force as they show that their work of obliteration of beach defences has been thorough.

The Army report that guns on their flank are causing trouble. Destroyers move in, firing rapidly as they in turn come under fire. A sharp duel with splashes uncomfortably close ends in silence from the troublesome batteries. The Army forges ahead. From the sea this is the only incident of the day redolent of screen drama. Satisfying reports continue to flow in from the Army, though their laconic wording shows that this is no easy task. Difficulties have been anticipated, and are being overcome according to plan.

Cruisers and destroyers continue to pound strongpoints at the request of the Army, and air strikes add to the chaos of the enemy defences. No Nip aircraft have appeared.

In the late afternoon the transports depart for reinforcements, but not before Manoora has sent a barge, one of those which had been in the first wave, for our home mail.

Warrego prepares to investigate approaches to wharves and landing areas in the inner harbour. The hazards of the unknown location of known mines which have already caused casualties are weighed against the importance of speed in providing the information.

The long day closes with much to be done, but with the certain knowledge that another telling blow against Japan has been well and truly delivered.

"B2"

DDT

THE smoke from numerous cigarettes and pipes wreathed the atmosphere of the anteroom of H.M.A.S. Tasmania as the cruiser gently dipped and rolled to the long swell of the Great Australian Bight.

It was the half-hour before dinner when the wardroom meets for the convivial gin or sherry which is popularly supposed to stimulate the appetite and which certainly stimulates the tongue.

Conversation had turned to the Great War Of 1939-45, which in this year of grace, 1958, seemed to belong to the dark ages.

The commander, who up to date had taken no part in the conversation but had confined his attention strictly to his gin, caught the sound of a well-known name. "Harkness," he said. "How many of you ever knew Bill Harkness? I suppose there are more yarns out him than about any other officer in the
R.A.N ."

He finished off his gin and rang the bell for the wine steward. When the other half was safely in front of him he continued: "Did any of you ever hear the story of how Bill Harkness started a branch of his own in the Navy Office? No. Well, here's the story.

"It was the period when new branches were ringing up at the Navy Office like pimples the face of a snotty and when directors were as numerous as Nazis in Nuremberg. Bill, whose ship was refitting in Sydney, had drifted down to Melbourne for lack of anything better to do and decided to call on a friend in the Staff Branch. As you know the staff can always be found at the top of any building, presumably following the principle that the brains of any animal are always found at the highest point. At any rate that's my theory."

"What about the other theory that hot air always rises," said a languid voice from the depths of a chair.

"That's enough from you, pilot," said the commander.

"Well, as Bill wandered through the corridors he eyed with amazement the imposing titles on the doors. There were directors of this and controllers of that by the score. Some doors bade you 'Knock and enter', others less hospitable bore the legend, 'No entry', whilst others again had such cryptic signs as 'Enter by Room 368', presumably because the occupant of 367 habitually enjoyed an afternoon doze. Others again displayed a list of their occupants, an idea which was evidently copied from the zoo where similar notations can be seen on every cage. The whole building hummed with activity and Bill began to wish that he was back in the old HMAS Oodnadatta with nothing more disturbing than an occasional dive bomber or a submarine alarm.

"After dodging several determined kamikaze attacks from tea-carriers and file-bearers his eyes lit on a door which bore no legend of any description and which on opening disclosed an empty room, except for a desk, a chair and a telephone. Suddenly an idea struck Bill. After the dullness of life in northern operational areas a short period of real warfare in this inky Armageddon would surely prove a change.

"To think with Bill was to act. On the following day he arrived with a white placard bearing in large blue letters the legend 'D.D.T.', a rubber stamp with the same notation, a pen and paper, and commenced operations. First he affixed his placard to the door and arranged the remainder of his stock in trade on the desk. He then waited until a particularly dull-looking youth bearing a large file of files festooned with blue, red and yellow labels marked 'Secret', 'Immediate' and 'Urgent' meandered along the corridor.

"'Hey, boy,' said Bill, 'I've been looking for those files. Bring them into my office.'

"The youth obeyed reluctantly and after being told to return in twenty minutes slouched off. Bill then proceeded to stamp each file with his rubber stamp and with the word 'Later' opposite. On the messenger's return the files were handed to him and he resumed his leisurely progress.

"Bill repeated this on several occasions and finally sat down at his desk to endeavour to initiate a file of his own. After much thought he produced one covering a mythical supply of ammunition couched in language which he, at any rate, felt was in keeping with that peculiar brand of English found in his purloined files. Ringing the bell he requested the damsel who answered it to take his script to the typist. On its return he submitted it to the various dignitaries whose titles he had observed, and in view of the date, which happened to be the 5th November, and the subject matter of his letter, he signed it 'G. Fawkes, P.P., D.D.T.' He then fixed a red tap, to it and confided it to young Mercury, when that young gentleman next hove into view. After that he decided to call it a day."

The commander proceeded to refill his pipe.

"Well, in a week Bill was snowed under with files. It would appear that any director who had acquired files on thorny subjects to which he did not know the answer, passed them on to D.D.T. with gratitude. In addition his own file returned to him bristling with autographs and a royal straight flush of 'Concurs'. There was also one which read-'No objection subject to no expense being incurred by the Department', and signed . .

"I know," said the paymaster bitterly. "You needn't tell me."

"After a week of this," resumed the commander, "Bill felt he had had enough so he proceeded to enjoy the remainder of his leave in his own fashion. He did, however, pay a final visit to the scene of his late activities and recoiled in dismay from the sight which met his eyes. His ex-office was literally a mausoleum of files, stacked in heaps and extending to the roof. After one startled glance Bill stealthily withdrew and hurried from the building as fast as his legs could carry him.

And he told me later that it was not until he saw the familiar sight of a 'Judy' that he really
felt at home again."

"And what happened to all the files, Sir?" asked a young lieutenant.

"History doesn't relate," replied the commander, "but I understood that several secretaries had to take sick leave owing to writers cramp brought on by endeavours to trace them, and so far as I know the course of the war was not altered in the slightest degree. Hullo! There's the bugle for dinner. Who's president tonight? "

"Was that a true story of the commander's?" said the P.M.O. to the Chief, as they made their way to the wardroom.

"I don't know," the Chief answered, "but from what I saw of the Navy Office it could have been."

"CYCLOPS"

AN ILL WIND

The frigate moved quietly on a steady course westward through the calm violet sea. Astern the dull grey clouds of dawn looked faintly rosy at the end of the long wake and, to port, the blue-green mass of hilly lay silent and misty, bordered by a narrow space of sand and gentle surf, with here and there a momentary flash of white water on rock or fallen tree. Hooded and helmeted figures moved briskly about the decks and bridge of the frigate and the echo sounder, with its tick click, tick-click, was clearly heard on the crowded bridge as the ship rapidly neared the high headland of Kudat Kondoe, the eastern end of Kudat Bay.

Five miles inside the bay and half a mile inland was a village which many reconnaissances had proved to be occupied by enemy troops, but the village was not to be the first target for the ship's guns.

Those same reconnaissances had noted regular supply trips by sea, trips whose times had been carefully noted, and from a mass of photos. Intelligence had gone to Operations with a plan of action which seemed likely to have success. The frigate was there to do the business quickly and thoroughly. The Japanese craft should be inside Kudat Bay, the sheltered anchorage near the beach only twelve Miles, one and a half hours, away.

On the bridge the captain glanced again at the silent shore, wondered why no observation post had ever been established on the headland and then looked aft where everybody was silently expectant.

"We'll see most of the western shore in five minutes, pilot," he said, and was answered with a quick nod from the figure busy taking bearings.

Beyond the pilot, Guns was leaning over the bridge watching the guns' crews for'ard, in three groups around their weapons; in the port wing of the bridge "Ping" and "Pay", on their feet in their stifling little compartments these last four hours, were watching the nearing headland as they pulled off their gear; their work was done for the time being and both were eager to see the results.

The western headland of the bay appeared beyond Kudat Kondoe and glasses and gun-sights swung on to it promptly; everything in the ship, machine and man, concentrated on that one point to detect and warn. Slowly, and then faster, the bay opened up; then "There he is, not far enough in to beach and too far in to run. He's money for old rope," from Guns.

"Steer 220," said the captain and the guns trained as the ship altered course.

In the jungle fringing the beach about a mile from the point the Japanese had been heading for, six white men stared with joyous surprise at the fast-moving ship wearing the White Ensign; two carried Owen guns, two had revolvers, and the other pair carried short wooden clubs.

All were in stained khaki and three wore slouch hats with coloured puggarees, the other three wore faded blue R.A.A.F. caps, the badges green with salt, the caps almost shapeless. Their desperate plan, made after days of anxious watching and hiding after their aircraft had crashed, apparently unnoticed, on the eastern slope of Kudat Kondoe, had been to rush the Japanese crew before the working party arrived from the village and so make their escape to sea where friendly planes were more numerous than enemy.

A bold, dangerous plan, but food, water and shelter were all lacking and the six had no wish to become prisoners of the barbarous Japanese, with death by torture, beheading or disease the only likely outcome.

As they watched the two ships rapidly drawing together they saw the flash and black smoke as one Of the for'ard guns fired, saw the graceful white pillar rise from the blue-green sea to shoreward of the Japanese and realized that their plan was finished, that rescue had arrived if they could identify themselves and avoid the Japanese. There was not a log that would float, not a boat, on the beach, but they fastened a white singlet to a pole and, watching, held their ground.

"Steer 190," said the captain.

"Shoot," said Guns, and two 4-inch shells sp lashed water on the Japanese decks. Again the guns fired and the harsh colour of flame in daylight showed a hit; another followed and a third as tracer shells began to float up from the enemy ship.

Two more shells screamed away and the thump-thump-thump of Bofors added to the noise and the destruction.

"Steer 210. We'll land a few in that village too. Keep an eye on the Jap, Pay. Let me know when she sinks," and the ship steadied.

"White flag on the beach, sir, bearing about 215. Looks like a couple of men in khaki just behind it."

"Steer 090. Watch that flag, yeoman," were the orders, and then, as she turned parallel to the shore 2,000 yards away, shells and rockets screamed and shrieked from the ship. Four or five times debris and wreckage shot upwards and brown smoke, edged with black on one edge, climbed against the green background of jungled slopes.

"Ship sunk, sir," and "Six men in khaki on the beach by that flag, sir," came the reports, and as the guns ceased and the ship swung northward out of the bay the men were seen to wave their white flag frantically.

"They're white men, sir, wearing A.I.F. hats," reported one of the signalmen, and glasses on the bridge turned towards the tiny moving figures.

"Away motor-boat's crew," ordered the captain. "Hard-a-starboard. Midships. Steady. Steer 180. Nothing inshore to worry the boat is there, pilot?"

"They're coming back. Down to the edge, you three," said the flight-lieutenant who had been captain of the aircraft.

The two with clubs and one of the two with revolvers trotted down the strip of sand with their flag whilst the other three stayed facing the jungle ready for any enemy attack; thus they were when the hail came from the boat.

"Is there plenty of water there? Can we come right in?"

"Who wants a cigarette?"

Two miles away angry Japanese, hidden in the jungle near the beach, saw the motor-boat go alongside and the ship disappear around Kudat Kondoe.

"BURDMAN"