Yangtze Showdown Read online

  Despite the confusion, Kerans realised he might be left with no alternative but an attempt to escape. He feared that the Communists would soon demand Amethyst’s unconditional surrender or complete acceptance of their terms. There was a heartening factor: ‘One thing I knew was certain, and that was that no one on board would give in; Kang had, I felt sure, little conception of British spirit.’ He was worried, however, about relatives in England who were obviously growing more anxious as each day passed, especially as the crew had not been able to send any letters home.

  After dark on 13 July there was a surprise visit from Captain Tai, the local garrison commander, who brought a long despatch from General Yuan intended for Admiral Brind. This communication pointed out that Kerans was not fully authorised to negotiate, unlike Kang. The general expressed regret that the British had been using delaying tactics and urged a speedy settlement. Kerans found it significant that Yuan was involving himself again. The ship’s power had been shut down for the night but steam was raised so that the message could be sent to the admiral.

  Captain Tai’s evening visit inevitably prompted rumours, and the next morning Kerans addressed the crew, who thought there might be important news. Kerans spoke for about 15 minutes but, of course, there was little to reveal. The Communists were still playing mind games. He spent most of the time reminding his men of the need for security. Although the crew were not allowed ashore, unguarded comments could be picked by the Chinese on board and passed to the traders who came alongside in sampans.3

  That day saw a message of reassurance from Admiral Brind, which was pinned up on notice boards around the ship. In view of the fact that messages could not be sent in code, it is perhaps surprising that Brind decided to be so forthright, ignoring prying eyes and the sensitivities of the Chinese:

  It is clear that the Communists have been holding you hostage to wring admissions from the British government which would not only be untrue and dishonourable but would harm the cause of free nations in the future. For the present therefore you are in the forefront of what is called the ‘cold war’ in which the cause of freedom is being attacked. I know it is a pretty hot war as far as you are concerned and your stand is widely recognised and greatly admired. No one can say how this will end, but of one thing I am quite sure, neither the British government, the Amethyst’s ship’s company nor myself will ever submit to threats or perversions of the truth; nor shall we do anything to harm our country’s honour.

  The crew should know that they were in the thoughts of the government, the people at home and sailors throughout the fleet.4 Kerans added his own note: ‘Keep this notice clean so all can read.’

  Brind replied quickly to Yuan’s communication. He confirmed that Kerans was his representative, who could pass and receive messages and sign a safe-conduct agreement. This authorisation would be signed on the admiral’s behalf by naval attaché Donaldson – so long as contact with Nanking could be made. Brind asked for the involvement of the diplomat Youde, who would help as an interpreter. In a message to Kerans, the admiral suggested he should keep contact with Kang to a minimum.

  After a religious service on the morning of Sunday, 17 July, the ship’s company posed for photographs. They were divided into groups: all the thin men, led by Kerans; all the ‘fat’ men, led by Fearnley the RAF doctor; all the ‘glamour’, led by Hett; all those wearing beards; everyone not in those groups; and all the Chinese. It is surprising that fat men were still on board, given the weeks of deprivation, the searing heat and the manual work. Perhaps they were just slightly overweight. The photo session illustrated the high morale, as Coxswain Frank noted: ‘This caused a lot of merriment among the ship and I am perfectly sure that if Colonel Kang or the general had seen us he would have said, “We shall never make them give in”. And believe me, he won’t. Our ensign has been flying since the incident and although rather tattered and torn now and riddled with gunfire it is still flying and will remain so as long as Amethyst stays afloat.’5 The men had something else to cheer them. A consignment of emergency stores from Shanghai arrived. They included medical supplies, disinfectant and rat traps, as well as cigarettes, sweets and books. All the boxes had been opened in Chingkiang. During the afternoon a plane flew over and dropped a couple of bombs on land, a reminder that the civil war was still going on.

  Brind continued to agonise over Amethyst’s fate, coming to the conclusion that any further negotiations were unlikely to make progress and that the frigate would have to be rescued, or ‘cut out’, as he put it. A night operation was envisaged. The admiral came up with Plan A and Plan B, and the date he had in mind was 25 July. Plan A would see Amethyst under way by 0200. Two destroyers would be sent up the Yangtze the previous night, anchoring at a suitable location during daylight, and then dash to rendezvous with her, aiming to pass Kiangyin by 0500 at the latest on the return. Two other destroyers would pass Woosung at speed and wait below Kiangyin to give cover. Plan B involved sending all four destroyers up the Yangtze at the same time. Brind noted: ‘Plan B is intended to have Amethyst under way with a strong escort before Communists realise, and be one jump ahead of them all day.’ He added: ‘The political implication of operation is fully appreciated particularly the seriousness of failure. Nevertheless it must be examined as an operation and its chances assessed.’

  Brind’s plans were outlined in a top-secret message to his second-incommand, Madden. The Admiralty was not consulted. Madden must have shuddered when he saw Plan A and Plan B. Only a short time earlier he had admitted to major errors of judgement in sending Amethyst up the Yangtze in the first place and ordering the subsequent rescue attempts by Consort, London and Black Swan, with great loss of life. Tactfully, he replied that he had ‘carefully considered’ the plans. Madden pointed out that there was a lack of intelligence about Communist batteries. There were navigational hazards, with buoys probably out of place, and river craft such as junks could be mistaken for them.

  Madden told his superior:

  Our opinion is that both Plans A and B would jeopardise surprise, and draw most unwelcome attention to Amethyst before anything could be done. The chances of ships not being spotted in daylight is extremely small. By night destroyers at speed or their wash will certainly be heard if not seen. After full consideration we reluctantly conclude that neither Plan A nor B offers more than a slender chance of success with a high degree of risk that we might have at least one other ship in a predicament similar to Amethyst and a near certainty of considerable casualties.

  I regret, therefore, that I could not recommend to you the adoption of either plan as a practicable operation. Unless we have carrier-borne rocket-firing aircraft after reconnaissance, it is not justifiable to assume that conditions would differ greatly from those which obtained on 20th and 21st April.

  Madden thought Amethyst’s best chance was to make a lone dash down river, though he rated success at only 50 per cent. If the escape attempt were unsuccessful, the Communists ‘would probably not give the crew much quarter’. As a last resort a submarine might be able to reach Amethyst and take off the crew if there was a decision to destroy the ship.6

  Monday, 18 July marked 90 days since the attack on Amethyst. Frank recorded: ‘Still going strong. I wonder how much longer that Bastard is going to keep us?’ The heat was becoming a major problem and the following night, with no wind, the messdecks were ‘like an oven’. Rats remained a challenge, and 52 traps were set with ‘nil result’. Frank acknowledged: ‘I don’t think you can beat the cat [Simon] for catching them.’

  One challenge, however, had resulted in a solution. Brind’s flag lieutenant, David Scott, gave much thought to the problem that Amethyst could not send secure signals to the Far East Station. While at sea with the admiral on board the frigate Alert, he came up with an entirely new code. ‘The starting point of my thoughts was simply this – what has Amethyst got on board in the way of anything written or printed, of which we, the staff, could lay our hands on an identical duplicate, but whic
h the Chinese could not?’ Scott recalled. ‘Books such as reference books or novels were dangerous, as there could be no assurance that they could not be recognised by the Chinese. Eventually, the idea of using Amethyst’s next-of-kin list, a duplicate of which was held at headquarters in Singapore, occurred to me. Amethyst did still hold the government telegraph code, which could certainly not be regarded as secure. However, it could be used for the initial instructions to Amethyst as to how to construct the cipher …’ The new code involved using a surname, first name and city, town or village from the next-of-kin list, and then letters would be substituted for four-figure groups of numbers. Blocks of numbers could be sent and then decoded to reveal the message. With some 70 men on board, each with three words, the total for conversion to figures was more than 200. Years later Scott was annoyed to see a claim by author C E Lucas Phillips in the book Escape of the Amethyst that the code had been ‘borrowed from the Germans’. Scott complained: ‘I have no idea who propagated this myth, or the motivation in expounding it. To this day I have never been able to trace any such German code.’7

  On 22 July Kerans, accompanied by Lieutenant Strain, went to a meeting in Chingkiang, which would turn out to be his last attempt to negotiate with the Communists. General Yuan once again stressed he was keen to come to an agreement. Then came the obstacles. He would not accept Captain Donaldson’s signature as authorisation – it needed to be that of Admiral Brind. ‘Nothing I said would convince them that this was an impossible request and that signalled authorisation was legitimate,’ Kerans reported. The general suddenly widened the discussion to include Consort, London and Black Swan, as well as Amethyst. All four warships had entered the PLA’s frontier area, and it was necessary to acknowledge ‘fundamental guilt’ and give an assurance over apologies and reparations. The general rejected the admiral’s proposed agreement and the request to allow Youde to take part in talks. When Kerans complained that Kang’s conduct had been unsatisfactory, he received a rebuke that this was ‘libellous’. The general hurried away from the meeting, and Kerans was left to deal with his old adversary Kang. For two hours Kerans argued that Youde’s presence was essential so that the wording of the agreement would be acceptable to both sides. He made it clear that the commander-in-chief would not go back on previous statements. Kang, surprisingly, was ‘a good deal less vociferous than in the past’.

  The meeting adjourned for lunch, a six-course meal with Shanghai beer, and Kerans was astonished to hear Kang speaking to Strain in ‘perfect English’. The colonel had always insisted that he could not speak the language. Strain stressed the difficult conditions that the crew were continuing to endure, and Kerans wondered if Kang was starting to show concern about outside reaction, or perhaps ‘feeling the ground’ before presenting terms for surrender. Before the meeting closed Kerans asked for clearance so that a Chinese ship could bring 250 tons of oil fuel and provisions from Shanghai. Kang said he would consider the request, and Amethyst’s captain left ‘reasonably hopeful’. He returned to the ship with four precious bottles of beer, which were raffled in each mess.

  The next day Kerans was once again worrying about the level of fuel, which had dropped to 79 tons. There would have to be further economies. Signals could be read without power but it was necessary to raise steam to send replies. The intense heat was taking its toll on the sole telegraphist, French, who would be dripping in sweat. He was supposed to produce every message in triplicate, using carbon copies. These became so ‘sticky’ that he cut down to two copies, hoping that it would not be noticed. Frank had written in his diary: ‘I am afraid that if the oil gets much lower we shall be shutting down again for 48 hours at a time, then it won’t be uncomfortable any more, it will be just plain hell. Even to write this I have four sheets of blotting paper under my wrist and it is soaked through.’ Interpreter Leo was sent ashore for 36 hours so that he could have a well-earned rest. He was asked to return with local money – and the views of the embassy on the latest talks.

  18

  Typhoon Gloria

  ON 23 JULY KERANS BECAME aware of another problem, or perhaps it was a difficulty that would help to provide a solution to Amethyst’s plight. Typhoon Gloria had formed to the south of Formosa and was moving north towards the coast of China. It was likely to pass over the Yangtze to the west of Shanghai. Vice Admiral Madden warned Kerans that Amethyst would probably be in Gloria’s path, with winds of 80 knots and heavy rain on the night of 24/25 July. Steam was kept at half an hour’s notice throughout the night, but the weather remained relatively calm.

  Kerans, of course, had failed to take the hint of escape when Admiral Brind suggested ‘plenty of sea room’ on 11 July in dealing with a typhoon. On 25 July Brind sent the following signal to Amethyst: ‘I am very interested in how you fare. Typhoon Gloria has already been chasing some of us. I think you should be quite safe. My previous advice applies, and you may think it wise to warn Kang that it may be essential for you to move downstream because of weather. I shall, of course, support your judgement.’ Kerans replied: ‘If [anchor] cable parts will run for it. If wrecked and salvage impossible will blow up ship. Personnel to Shanghai.’

  Amethyst’s captain finally realised he had permission to escape using a typhoon as cover. But the admiral’s signal arrived at noon, and the weather had deteriorated rapidly during the morning. ‘By now I felt that I had left it too late as the wind was increasing and turning in the narrow part of the river would have been a lengthy operation,’ Kerans reported. ‘Visibility did not close down as far as the shore opposite was concerned until about 1400 and then only for a short while. I nearly decided to slip and run for it there and then …’ Of course, if the anchor cable had parted there would have been no choice. The ship was actually riding out the typhoon quite well, though conditions in the middle of the river were extremely rough. Amethyst was light and Kerans feared that his battle-scarred frigate might not be structurally sound in strong winds and buffeting waves.1 By 1900 the storm had eased and the crew were able to relax. Those on watch were treated to a few bizarre sights, including a dog sitting on top of a haystack floating downstream and a pig trying to swim as far away from the frigate as possible, presumably anxious not to provide a supply of fresh pork.

  Kerans had time to reflect on Brind’s messages, still annoyed that he had failed to act decisively: ‘I was somewhat depressed at having been so slow to sense their true meaning and by now, since the typhoon had passed, an opportunity had been missed, and it must certainly have appeared so to those elsewhere.’

  The next day everything was back to normal, according to Coxswain Frank, with ‘the same old game of waiting, waiting and more waiting’. He wrote in his diary: ‘Everyone is now enjoying a little relaxation after the tension of yesterday, and I should say no one deserves it more than the captain, who was on the go all the time from morning until evening, and if the cable had parted he would have had to make a quick decision regarding the ship and everyone on board. We are all very relieved that it was not necessary for him to do so.’ A trader appeared with a welcome consignment of Shanghai beer, which was regarded as a ‘historic’ occasion for sailors not used to going so long without alcohol, though the price was an extortionate twelve shillings and sixpence a bottle against the usual one shilling and three pence. Frank was so moved that he peeled off the label and kept it as a souvenir, marking it with the date – and the price.2

  On 27 July Brind sent a revised agreement to be passed to General Yuan. It was essentially the same as the previous proposal but it did mention all the warships, Amethyst, Consort, London and Black Swan, as the Communists had demanded. The vessels had caused a ‘misunderstanding’ by entering the PLA’s frontier zone without agreement. There was no objection on the British side to any investigation that might be ordered by ‘our superior authorities’.

  If the general and Kerans could not agree on the terms, Brind suggested that the alternative was a personal meeting between himself and Yuan. The admiral said he was
willing to come by destroyer and asked for clearance. If that was not acceptable, permission was sought for Youde to join Amethyst and an aircraft to be allowed to fly to Nanking with the admiral’s letter of authorisation, so that Kerans could sign the agreement.

  In Nanking, Ambassador Stevenson was pessimistic about making progress after Kerans’s last meeting with Yuan. He told Brind: ‘They seem to have to have returned to their original aim of forcing us to accept the responsibility for the whole incident as a condition for the release of Amethyst.’ It was clear that the Communists wanted to avoid high-level negotiations. The ambassador agreed that the admiral should try to arrange a personal meeting with Yuan, though he doubted this would be acceptable given ‘his present aggressive mood’. But it was worth pursuing if only to cause embarrassment.3

  Stevenson reported his doubts to the Foreign Office and warned that the time was approaching when alternatives would have to be considered to break the stalemate. Britain might have to accept ‘unquestionably ignominious terms’ or resort to ‘drastic expedients’ such as scuttling the ship or allowing Amethyst to make a dash for it under cover of darkness. The sailors could not continue to endure physical hardship in the intense heat. ‘We are, of course, under no delusions as to the risky nature of latter two courses and serious consequences of failure,’ the ambassador noted. The only other potential weapon was publicity, which would be ‘problematical in view of traditional Communist disregard of humanitarian and sentimental considerations’. Some publicity might be necessary anyway to prepare the British public for the possible shock in the event of a drastic attempt to resolve the crisis. Stevenson thought the time had come to ‘modify gradually our policy of reticence’ and counter the false claims of the Communists and reveal the true picture. This could be done subtly with parliamentary questions and answers. Communist leaders would quickly learn of these and they could hardly object to facts being presented through the democratic process.4