Yangtze Showdown Read online

  There was another warning of a typhoon on 29 July. It was travelling northwest from a point east of Formosa, and Kerans had high hopes that it would head for the Yangtze. This time he would be ready. But it curved towards south-east Japan. Using his interpreter Leo, Kerans made several attempts to contact Kang about the request for more oil and to find out the date of the next meeting. There was no response, and it was learned that the colonel had gone to Nanking.

  Kerans tried to remain optimistic, sending a positive message to Brind:

  I cannot speak too highly of the conduct, bearing and fortitude of my remaining ship’s company. They have endured a long period of hardships under almost intolerable conditions, with cheerfulness and courage, which can have few equals in time of peace. Many of them are new arrivals on the station and nearly all extremely young. British spirit in adversity has once again shown itself to be unassailable. Please tell the fleet we shall keep the old flag flying, riddled though it may be by gunfire and come what may. Good luck to all.5

  After some difficulty Amethyst managed to acquire a working knowledge of the code devised by Lieutenant Scott. There had been problems with decryption and repetitions were avoided on security grounds. By 30 July the fuel position was again a serious concern. There were 55 tons left but 16 tons would have to be deducted for ‘loss of suction’, leaving 39 tons. Power for communications and distillation would reduce that figure to 33 tons. Kerans thought it unlikely that the Communists would give clearance for a destroyer or a plane. Talks could drag on for many more weeks. ‘Clearly I had to make my decision now or face operational immobility to leave the Yangtze,’ he reflected.6

  That day had started like many others for Frank: ‘We never thought we were going to be stuck up here all this time, but there it is, we have been, and as far as we can see are just as likely to be here for another month or so. We are, of course, sincerely hoping that we shall not be.’ Later that day the coxswain saw signs that there ‘must be something brewing’, with the captain demanding complete security on board.7

  There was indeed something brewing. At 1500 on 30 July Kerans made his decision. Amethyst would attempt to escape. Using the new code, he sent a flash signal to Admiral Brind: ‘Top secret. I am going to try to break out 2200 tonight.’

  19

  We’re Going Tonight

  THE SHORTAGE OF FUEL AND Colonel Kang’s mind games were not the only factors that Kerans weighed up before deciding that he needed to try to escape. With further fuel economies, the crew would not have been able to endure the intense heat for much longer, despite the fact that they were still in reasonable shape physically. Telegraphist French, stuck in his cramped office for long spells, was suffering the most. He was starting to miss messages, and on some occasions he found it impossible to write down signals. The only way to give him some relief was to pump a bellows at him. The ship had run out of some basic items of food. Flour was almost exhausted and the sugar had gone bad. By late August the ship’s company would have faced starvation. Supplies of fresh food from local traders had been severely disrupted because of flooding of the Yangtze’s banks caused by Typhoon Gloria. Kerans hoped that the flooding would have forced the Communists to reposition their batteries further inland. And it was reasonable to assume that most of the artillery moved south during the PLA’s advance. Kerans learned from the BBC that the merchant ship Anchises, which was attacked by Nationalist aircraft in June, had left Shanghai, so she could not be held hostage as a reprisal. The moon on 30 July was suitable for a breakout and it would not be favourable for another month. The moon would set at 2315 but Kerans was willing to go at 2200. Amethyst’s captain knew he had the backing of Admiral Brind – and, perhaps most important, he would have the element of surprise.1

  The first person Kerans took into his confidence on board Amethyst on 30 July was George Strain, the electrical officer who days earlier had been promoted lieutenant commander. Then Leonard Williams, the senior man in the engine room, was informed. ‘Four hours before the escape I was called for a personal conference with the captain,’ said Williams. ‘He told me he was going to make a run for it that night. I was told to keep secrecy. It was going to be an eight-hour dash at full speed and the engines needed to be in first-class order. It takes four hours to flash up the boilers so that’s why he told me when he did. I had to make an excuse to the others in the engine room that Commander Kerans had told me to flash up because we were expecting a typhoon.’2 At 1945 Kerans called seventeen chief petty officers, petty officers and key ratings to his cabin, and gave them a full briefing. The men were told to discreetly pass on the information to other members of the ship’s company.

  ‘I don’t think there was one of us whose heart did not give an extra beat,’ Coxswain Frank recorded. ‘I know mine did, not with fear, but I think it must have been with excitement or quite possibly the feeling that at last we were going to give Kang a smack in the eye.’3

  One of Kerans’s concerns was the reaction of his eight Chinese. A shout to shore or an attempt to signal would put the entire escape plan in jeopardy. ‘I was perfectly prepared if necessary to shoot my Chinese if all else failed,’ he admitted. They were watched carefully and several of them were locked below. But in the event they did not cause any trouble. Another difficulty was the position of Sam Leo, the loyal interpreter who had volunteered to help the negotiations over Amethyst. Leo was an employee of the British embassy and his wife was in Nanking, with two sons fighting for the Nationalists. ‘He alone of all on board besides myself was fully aware that Colonel Kang would keep his word and destroy the ship by all means possible if I attempted to break out,’ Kerans reported. To give him a cover story the captain sent Leo ashore with a letter for Kang asking for permission to go to the mission hospital in Chingkiang to collect urgent medical supplies for a rating who was very ill. To add authenticity to the letter Fearnley the RAF doctor listed the medicine needed. Leo was told to remain in Chingkiang overnight so that he could make an approach to Kang in the morning about the request for more fuel, stressing the growing plight of the crew. ‘I much regret having taken this course, but obviously I could not bring him into my confidence and his reactions might have jeopardised the whole operation,’ Kerans reported. ‘It was one man’s life against the rest of us on board.’ Sadly, Sam Leo would pay with his life.4

  Kerans revealed that as early as May he had been thinking of escape. He wanted to change the silhouette of the ship, giving orders for the mast and upper deck to be stripped of as much equipment as possible. ‘No officer or rating was ever aware of my real intentions. I gave as cover the necessity to reduce top weight and increasing stability by striking heavy weights below.’ Another reason he gave for this work was to keep the men busy, and he admitted that many thought him ‘somewhat eccentric’. Removing these items also lessened the risk of splinter wounds, which had been suffered by many sailors in the main attack on 20 April. Kerans noticed that a large number of former US tank landing craft were using the Yangtze commercially, and he hoped that Amethyst might be mistaken for one of these vessels. Shortly before 2200 on 30 July the forward section of the ship was camouflaged by rigging black canvas, which was also stretched from the back of the bridge to the funnel. Red and green lights demanded by the Communists for shipping were positioned, but they would be used as a last resort. Black paint was thrown over white parts of the superstructure. It was important to slip the anchor cable without making any noise, and Kerans had previously arranged for it to be soaked in grease and soap and covered with bedding, which no doubt was seen as another eccentric act. All the ensigns were lowered except one. At night the ship had been in darkness, apart from two small warning lights for shipping, and it was hoped that sentries on shore would not notice any difference.

  There were only enough sailors to man one of the 4in guns and the port Oerlikon. Ammunition considered dangerous had been thrown over the side. The only navigation aid was the echo sounder, which Yangtze pilots did not regard as accurate beca
use of the fast flow of the river.5

  And if the escape attempt failed? Kerans had a plan and it involved the ultimate sacrifice:

  My intentions were, if hit and sinking, to beach if possible, to save life, then to blow up the ship. I had 24 detonators kept ready for this eventuality but only two people knew of this, and they will not be named. These two would have gone down in the ship with me. A and B magazines and the Bofors magazines were full. I would have set alight to the oil fuel and made the last signal myself before destroying the W/T office. All seacocks would have been opened, and I considered the ship could have been fully destroyed. Ensigns would have been left flying.6

  Admiral Brind did not initially tell the Admiralty or his second-incommand, Madden, about the secret code that had been devised by his flag lieutenant. He was uneasy about keeping this quiet and the fact that he had given Kerans permission to try to escape. On 29 July he sent a signal explaining the position, but it was marked ‘priority’, which in the curious world of naval signals did not mean that. A priority signal had a relatively low precedence and was not considered of immediate operational importance. The admiral was playing for time.7

  The signal read: ‘I have told Amethyst that I shall support him in any decision he makes to break out. I have made it clear that I am not pressing him to do so and that suggestion only applies if he considers conditions of weather and visibility suitable. There was some hope he might try during passage of recent typhoon. He is being carefully watched and navigation is difficult. Unless fuel and stores arrive within ten days it may be necessary to order him to destroy the ship.’8

  Brind was aboard Belfast berthed in Hong Kong on 30 July when Kerans’s signal warning that Amethyst would attempt to break out came in. That evening the admiral was hosting a dinner party and he was dressing for the occasion when he saw the message. It was garbled but there was enough of it to realise what Kerans planned: ‘I am going to try to brea …’ It took about 40 minutes to get a correct repeat of the signal and a few more minutes to decipher it. For security reasons Brind decided not to cancel the dinner, which began at 2015. After the loyal toast he proposed another, ‘HMS Amethyst and all who sail in her.’ It was important that guests did not leave the ship before 2200, the time Amethyst would sail, and after the meal they were directed to the quarterdeck for coffee and liquers. Bidding them farewell, Brind explained that ‘an urgent operational matter had just arisen, which demanded his immediate attention … and that they would be able to read about his problems in the morning papers’. The dinning cabin was turned into an operations room. Vice Admiral Madden, based in Hong Kong, was invited on board Belfast with members of his staff. ‘I shall always remember the shock and surprise which showed on the faces of Admiral Madden and his staff when they learned what was about to occur,’ Lieutenant Scott wrote.9 Another visitor was the colony’s RAF chief. It was planned to send Sunderland flying boats to pick up Amethyst’s crew if they were forced to abandon ship.

  Local traders, who often turned up late, almost ruined Kerans’s escape plan. That evening a sampan carrying vegetables and eggs was spotted approaching the ship. Would they see the preparations and report them? But suspicions might be aroused if they were told to go away without making the delivery. Kerans was checking on everything and gave orders that the traders were not to get past the top of the gangway. Sailors were told to put camp beds out on the quarterdeck and pretend that they were ready to turn in as if it were a normal, monotonous night. Petty Officer John McCarthy, in charge of stores, blocked the gangway. The goods were passed up from the sampan and he checked the invoice. McCarthy complained that they had not brought enough potatoes, and said he would pay them the next day when the rest were delivered. It worked. The sampan departed, much to the relief of Kerans. It was probably the only time that McCarthy – Amethyst – got the better of the traders.

  At 2100 Kerans went to the bridge, remaining there so that he could get his eyes used to the darkness. One hour later he was ready to give the order to sail but the moon was brighter than expected and he decided to wait a few minutes for it to pass behind a cloud. Then he spotted a merchant ship, fully lit, rounding Ta-Sha Island on her way down river. The ship, carrying passengers, was later identified as the Kaing Ling Liberation, owned by the Chinese Maritime Steamship Guild. Kerans thought it would be a good idea to follow her, especially as it was a difficult part of the river to navigate and he had no relevant charts. Amethyst went ahead on her port engine and the anchor cable was slipped, making little noise. The frigate’s bows were thrown 45 degrees to starboard, turning in the right direction in less than 30 seconds. One heart-stopping moment came when yellow sparks spewed out of the funnel because of damaged brickwork in one of the boilers. Sentries on land would have seen the display, but Amethyst was soon on her way down river making about 10 knots in the wake of the Kaing Ling Liberation. The frigate was at action stations. Sailors manning ‘B’ gun and the Oerlikon were under orders not to fire first.

  The Chinese ship was soon challenged by shore batteries, which were on both banks of the river. She answered a flare with the correct siren signal. A second flare went up, obviously intended for Amethyst, but Kerans ignored it and carried on. He spotted another vessel, smaller and fully lit, on his port bow. In the fading light it appeared to be a landing craft and it opened fire, sending shots across the frigate’s bow in the direction of batteries on the south bank. ‘My first impression was that he was trying to stop me and I was prepared to ram him if necessary,’ Kerans reported. Seconds later Amethyst came under heavy artillery and small-arms fire. The ship was caught in crossfire from the landing craft, a battery on the north bank and three batteries on the south bank. The order ‘Full ahead’ was given but there was a big explosion forward of the bridge on the starboard waterline. Kerans thought the ship had been badly hit in the starboard engine or boiler room. ‘We heeled well over to starboard and I thought it possible we might sink soon. I weaved heavily but it was some minutes before “full ahead” was reached and with the shallow water, steering was extremely difficult.’

  Telegraphist French was once again on duty and Kerans told him to send the flash signal, ‘I am under fire and have been hit.’ Fortunately, it had been a near miss. French was not rating their chances of survival: ‘We didn’t expect to make half a mile, if we were asked truthfully. The guns were trained on us and we expected to be blown out of the water.’ He had been told to maintain silence unless a message needed to be sent. But he kept contacting Hong Kong after the shelling. ‘I decided on my own to send the symbols “OK” [not OKAY] every quarter of an hour. No call signs or anything like that but just “OK”. Should we have had to abandon ship they could work out from their maps the position we were in from the last time I sent “OK”.’ This was an arrangement French made with his counterpart in Hong Kong, who would reply ‘R’, and no senior officers were aware of it.10

  The Kaing Ling Liberation had switched off all her lights, turned towards the northern bank and stopped. Amethyst passed the ship with about two feet to spare, made black smoke and continued. The firing carried on for some time but the batteries were targeting their own ships. The Kaing Ling Liberation was ablaze and the landing craft appeared to have been hit. Amethyst returned fire though ‘B’ gun could not initially bear because of the list of the ship and got off only one round before Kerans ordered it to stop firing, fearing flashes would give away their position. The Oerlikon and Bren guns were firing.

  The captain reported: ‘There is no doubt that this gunboat [the landing craft] astern of me was part of the set-up to ensure my destruction. I considered a minimum of four batteries were firing at us. The false silhouette and the complete darkening of Amethyst, and the confused situation with the Kaing Ling Liberation mainly assisted my slipping through this dangerous point. I decided now that I must continue my passage down at maximum speed regardless of navigational risk and the hazards involved as clearly they would be waiting for me with everything at their disposal
.’11 The frigate was doing about 22 knots.

  There were anxious moments in the engine room. ‘We didn’t have a clue what was going on atop,’ said Williams. ‘Our job was to make sure the machinery was working perfectly. If we had had a breakdown at that time we would really have been in the soup. But everything ran perfectly. We had no problems at all. During our time in captivity we had spent a lot of time looking after the machinery.’12

  On board Belfast, Brind and Madden, with charts spread out on the dining table, were waiting anxiously for news of Amethyst. At ‘about 2200’ a message marked ‘emergency’ had been received from the First Sea Lord, Admiral of the Fleet Lord Fraser, stating bluntly that no escape should be attempted ‘without further reference to the Admiralty’. Brind replied that it was too late, adding: ‘I have always thought his chances good provided Kerans personally confident.’ There has been speculation that Brind decided on a Nelsonian response. Fraser’s message might well have been received in time and fully understood but a reply was sent saying the original had been corrupted and it was necessary to repeat the signal, knowing that it would arrive too late. In London, Fraser was well aware of the political implications of failure. Brind shared the concerns but he was exasperated with the Communists and the time had come to resolve the issue one way or the other, tragedy or triumph.13

  On board Amethyst, Lieutenant Hett was mainly responsible for the navigation. There were no charts covering the stretch of river from the spot where the frigate had been anchored to beyond Rose Island. Kerans had obtained a folio of Chinese naval charts before taking command but it was not complete and was out of date by the time of the escape. Hett had to rely on one of the ship’s original charts, which had been torn apart during the attack on 20 April and afterwards pieced together, still showing bloodstains.