Yangtze Showdown Read online

  An interview with the captain of the Kaing Ling Liberation was published in The Times on 20 August. The captain, who was not named, said his ship loaded 400 tons of coal and beans at Hankow for Shanghai, and a large number of passengers boarded. After the ship passed Nanking she was attacked by Nationalist aircraft but all four bombs missed. Because of this attack most of the passengers disembarked at Chiangkiang to continue their journey by rail. Nearing the spot where Amethyst was anchored, flares suddenly lit up the Kaing Ling Liberation and she came under intense artillery and machine gun fire from the shore. The captain said the ship received several hits and was soon on fire and out of control. At this point he saw a big ship behind him, which was blacked out without any lights. He presumed this must have been Amethyst. Panic broke out on the Kaing Ling Liberation and passengers and crew jumped overboard, including the captain. He saw the other ship go past and he did not see her firing. The captain swam ashore. A Chinese naval craft put a boarding party on the Kaing Ling Liberation, which was anchored shortly afterwards. When the captain left to go to Shanghai, thirty passengers and ten of the crew were unaccounted for.

  The captain was actually interviewed on 4 August by an Associated Press correspondent, who apparently had difficulty getting his story out. The Communist authorities discovered that the captain had talked to the reporter and arrested him. Urquhart, the consul, noted that the Communist version was getting less prominence in local papers on 5 and 6 August: ‘If we get over 7 August without incident we may hope that the authorities are dropping the whole affair and I suggest we too need not go in for further defensive publicity.’20

  Surprisingly, the Communists did not make any propaganda over Amethyst’s sinking of a junk as the frigate neared Woosung. Perhaps they were unaware of it. Ambassador Stevenson had feared that the accident would be exploited ‘to the utmost’. He admitted: ‘There is therefore a strong temptation to recommend concealing the fact in the hopes that it may never be known for certain by the Communists what happened to the junk. Experience has shown, however, the difficulty of preventing leakage of such news and I have consequently come to the conclusion that it would be better to release this information before the Communists can do so or members of the ship’s crew inadvertently inform the press.’ The ambassador suggested saying it was feared that an unlighted junk ‘may have been run down’.

  Stevenson, like his masters at the Foreign Office, was keen to focus on improving relations with the Communists. He hoped that Amethyst’s escape would remove ‘a bone of contention and so will pave the way for more sober thinking and better understanding’.21 There were, of course, all those business interests to think about.

  21

  The Cover-up

  AMBASSSADOR STEVENSON WAS QUICK OFF the mark when he learned that the destroyer Concord had been involved in Amethyst’s escape. ‘No – repeat no – publicity should be given to the fact that HMS Concord entered Chinese territorial waters,’ he told the Foreign Office and Admiral Brind. The warning also went to British diplomats in Canton and Shanghai.

  In a message marked ‘emergency’, Stevenson also advised:

  Amethyst in getting under way was forced to reply to fire directed at her by shore batteries. It should be stressed that she did so to the minimum necessary for self-protection.

  It might help to lessen possible repercussions upon British communities in Communist-occupied territory if public statements could stress that the escape of HMS Amethyst was due to the initiative of the officer in command in accordance with the best traditions of a sailor responsible for the safety of his ship and the welfare of the ship’s company and that his intention to do so was not revealed to any of us out here. As the Communists have refused to deal with His Majesty’s embassy in the matter, which they have in fact insisted upon treating as local issue for discussion between PLA and the Royal Navy, such a statement on our part is logical and cannot harm the persons concerned.1

  In other words, Kerans would get all the blame if there were serious repercussions, despite the fact that the ambassador had suggested days earlier an escape might have to be attempted. Fortunately for Amethyst’s captain, the inept propaganda over the destruction of the merchant ship Kaing Ling Liberation quickly backfired and the Communists decided to save face and end their protests.

  Stevenson’s warning about Concord was taken seriously and a major cover-up took place, despite unintentional leaks. Over the years accounts of Amethyst’s escape have suggested that the frigate met the destroyer at the mouth of the Yangtze. Even the naval historian Professor Eric Grove wrote that Amethyst had ‘safely passed’ the forts at Woosung before seeing Concord ‘just as dawn broke’.2 This was not true. Concord played a much more significant role. Also covered up was the use of three other ships of the 8th Destroyer Flotilla, Cossack, Constance and Comus.

  Soon after Amethyst’s escape Admiral Brind asked the Admiralty to issue a press release, which said the frigate met Concord ‘after’ passing the biggest fort at Woosung. But he was obviously uncomfortable about playing down the destroyer’s important role. He had seen Stevenson’s warning and later that day, 31 July, he sent another message to the Admiralty saying: ‘I would suggest that, whilst we need not emphasise that Concord entered territorial waters, we should not hesitate to indicate she came to support Amethyst in dangerous waters after she had been subject to dastardly attack. We should not conceal fact that such action may involve entering territorial waters.’ And he was not happy about Stevenson’s ‘we can blame Kerans’ proposal: ‘I hope that … we shall not give impression that it is naval practice to leave responsibility for such actions which may have international repercussions to young commanding officers.’

  The Foreign Office and the Admiralty issued a joint statement on 31 July. It made no mention of the four destroyers, and referred to Amethyst’s escape in one sentence: ‘In her passage down river HMS Amethyst came under heavy fire at least twice, and on one occasion was compelled to reply in self-defence.’

  On 6 August Brind gave a press conference at his headquarters in Singapore. The admiral gave ‘further details’, without apparently telling journalists that they were off the record. The following day the Sunday Tribune, a newspaper published in Malaya, gave prominence to a story that began: ‘If the frigate Amethyst had met with any serious trouble on her dramatic dash down the Yangtze, three destroyers of the 8th Flotilla, Cossack, Constance and Comus, would have blasted their way up the river to help her. A fourth destroyer, Concord, would have been detailed to silence the shore fort guns at Woosung.’

  Strangely, only one national newspaper in Britain, the Sunday Pictorial, carried the story, revealing that ‘a full-scale battle would have been unleashed by a waiting destroyer flotilla if the brave and battered little Amethyst had needed help’. The disclosure was too good for other newspapers to ignore. But Brind probably realised he had spoken too freely, and it raises suspicions that the Chief of Naval Information, Captain Arthur Clarke, might have acted once again to suppress ‘undesirable publicity’ by appealing to editors.

  Even so, the Foreign Office was furious that the Sunday Pictorial had broken the story. A senior official, Patrick Coates, who had worked in China, complained: ‘We, of course, had not previously heard of this plan, and to divulge it at this stage is criminal folly.’ Coates was also upset that the Sunday Express revealed that Amethyst’s cat, Simon, had killed the large rat nicknamed Mao Tse-tung.

  ‘I understand that we have already taken these matters up with the Admiralty,’ Coates wrote. ‘We have, as indicated on other papers, already taken up with the Admiralty the question of piping down on Amethyst publicity, with specific reference to a proposed ceremonial welcome to her in London, but that news too has leaked.’

  Another official, Stanley Tomlinson, contacted the Admiralty and afterwards told Coates it was accepted there had been enough publicity about Amethyst. The Admiralty suggested that a junior officer in Singapore must have revealed the plan to attack the Woosung
forts. Tomlinson was sceptical: ‘One cannot but wonder whether the Woosung forts story was not, in fact, one of the “further details” given out by the C-in-C himself.’ The Commissioner General for South East Asia, Malcolm MacDonald, confirmed that Brind did indeed reveal the story.3 A few days later the Admiralty blamed three journalists, two American and one local, for a breach of confidence.

  On 30 July Brind had sent a message to Concord warning that Amethyst ‘may break out tonight’. The destroyer, already near the mouth of the Yangtze, should be ready ‘to go above Woosung at night if ordered’. The other destroyers were told to close the entrance to the Yangtze at short notice. Brind ordered: ‘Take no overt action yet as secrecy is vital.’ Kerans was aware that Concord would provide cover for Amethyst, but he did not know that three other destroyers were primed to take action.

  Amethyst began her dash down the Yangtze soon after 2200 on 30 July, and at 0145 the following day Concord headed for the Kiutoan light vessel, about 20 miles below Woosung. Thirty-five minutes later she was challenged by a Nationalist gunboat and told not to go any further. The order was ignored. The destroyer, travelling at 20 knots, reached the light vessel at 0255 and anchored, waiting for further orders. Brind signalled that she should continue further up river and engage the forts and batteries in the Woosung area if Amethyst came under attack. Amethyst was expected to pass Woosung near dawn, and at 0345 Concord continued her journey. A few minutes later Amethyst signalled that she was ahead of schedule. It was necessary for both warships to pass Woosung in darkness and, if the frigate had been delayed, they would have anchored at a safe spot and tried to break out the following night.

  At 0445 Concord was nearing Woosung. She had been at action stations for nearly seven hours. On board Belfast in Hong Kong, Brind and Madden were concerned that at any moment they might receive signals from both ships saying they were under fire. There was a significant risk that Amethyst and Concord could be sunk. At 0503 Amethyst reported that Woosung was in sight. Twenty-three minutes later she said that she had seen Concord. The destroyer signalled, ‘Fancy meeting you again’, and Kerans replied, ‘Never has a ship been more welcome’. Concord had picked up Amethyst on her radar a few minutes earlier. According to the HMS Concord Association, the ships met some four miles above the Woosung forts. The destroyer made a dramatic turn and appeared on the frigate’s starboard side to shield her from the heavy guns. Concord’s main armament was trained on the biggest fort but its guns remained silent. Amethyst and Concord headed for the open sea. In Belfast, Commander Dickens, Brind’s staff officer operations, poured champagne in celebration.4 Action stations ended only at 0715. Concord had gone some 40 miles up the Yangtze. Despite Admiral Brind’s revelations, the official version was soon accepted. Concord had met Amethyst at the mouth of the Yangtze …

  With some irony, the Communists did not pursue the matter. It was the Nationalist government that complained. The Royal Navy was accused of ‘a bellicose attitude’. China’s ministry of foreign affairs revealed that Concord was challenged twice by Nationalist vessels but carried on sailing up river, at one stage without any lights. All foreign naval vessels needed permission to enter territorial waters, and at least 10 days’ notice was required. The government was continuing to impose a blockade of shipping in an attempt to stop supplies reaching the Communists.

  In a message to the British embassy, the ministry said:

  The unexpected entry of the British naval craft Concord on the morning of 31 July into Chinese territorial waters already declared closed, without having first obtained the consent of the Chinese government, obviously violated the existing rules. The Chinese government regard this action of the Concord, irrespective of her motive and object, has virtually infringed the sovereignty of China. The ministry therefore have to lodge a strong protest to the British embassy, and to request the British government to issue to all British naval vessels instructions strictly forbidding the recurrence of similar incidents.5

  A British diplomat in Canton told the Foreign Office that Concord’s action was ‘a violation of sovereignty’, but Ambassador Stevenson was in no rush to reply, referring to it as an ‘alleged infringement’. The ambassador was more worried that the Communists would exploit the complaint. Stevenson wrote: ‘The best line to take might be therefore to begin with reference to HMS Concord stating that necessity for the ship’s journey up the river on this occasion was much regretted but it was hoped that the Chinese government would appreciate and sympathise with the special humanitarian objective of the rescue mission.’ But he added: ‘I prefer however the alternative of evading such argument as long as possible in the hope that the course of events … may obviate the necessity of any reply.’6

  Stevenson was well aware that the days of the Nationalist government were numbered. The Communists held all the important cards. Officials at the Foreign Office did not take the protest seriously, one describing it as ‘unnecessarily offensive’ and adding: ‘The longer we can delay a reply the better.’ Stanley Tomlinson, who had already been involved in the cover-up, commented: ‘I should have thought that from the point of view of the Chinese National government, Concord’s was more or less an innocent passage, and that their only real ground of complaint was because we had ignored their “blockade” regulations which, in fact, we have told them we consider to be illegal.’

  Over the ensuing years the Concord cover-up has remained a controversial issue for former members of the ship’s company who went to Amethyst’s aid. They believe their actions should have been recognised. In 2009, the year marking the 60th anniversary of the Yangtze Incident, the HMS Concord Association highlighted the grievance. The crews of Amethyst, Consort, London and Black Swan were all awarded the Naval General Service Medal with the clasp Yangtze 1949, or separate clasps if they already had the campaign medal. Why, asked the Concord men, were they not entitled to the award? The naval authorities pointed out that an awards committee had met in November 1949 and would have considered Concord along with the other ships, reaching the conclusion that she did not qualify. But this was not the case because at that stage Concord officially had not been in the Yangtze. The cover-up would last decades. The civil servant dealing with the association’s complaint further enraged the Concord veterans by stating that they had not been in a war zone, despite the fact that the conflict between the Nationalists and the Communists was continuing. The ship’s company, he argued, were not in any danger.

  The association responded:

  No danger! Concord had passed the Woosung forts, met Amethyst some four miles above the forts and had to pass her to turn round – the river was narrow there for turning. Having turned she caught up with Amethyst, and with Amethyst on her port side and the Woosung forts to starboard and with armament of both ships trained on the forts steamed past, thankfully without any incident, to the open waters. It was expected by the admiral and his staff aboard the flagship HMS Belfast that the Woosung forts would open fire, which is why the admiral had despatched Concord in the first place. Had they opened fire it was also expected that both ships would suffer damage and casualties.

  The association had to wait until 1999, when previously secret documents were released, to prove that Concord’s role had been covered up. The destroyer’s log was viewed at The National Archives in London. Also seen was Amethyst’s log, which aroused more suspicions. This log appeared to have a new cover and spine, and the last entry for 30 July 1949, the day of the frigate’s escape, was timed 2043. The only entry for 31 July was 1215, recording that the ship had secured alongside Concord. ‘Kerans would not have failed to record the events from 2200 on 30 July until 1215 on 31 July,’ the association noted. ‘What happened to the entries?’7

  There were more revelations in the archives held at Churchill College, Cambridge. Among the papers of Rear Admiral Sir David Scott – Admiral Brind’s flag lieutenant – were copies of all the naval signals sent during the night of 30/31 July. Even Kerans, in his final report on Amethyst’s dete
ntion and escape, made only a passing reference to Concord: ‘At 0309 I asked Concord to cover me at Woosung at about 0530. I was not exactly clear as to where he was and I refrained from signalling him direct in order not to disclose his whereabouts.’ He added: ‘First light broke at 0510 and I passed the quarantine buoy at Woosung at 0525, five minutes ahead of my ETA, with Concord in sight.’8

  After the mission the captain of the 8th Destroyer Flotilla, who was on board Cossack, asked for Concord’s log, which was not returned. The ship acquired a new log. She was not allowed to continue to escort Amethyst to Hong Kong. Cossack replaced her and Concord was sent on patrol towards Japan, so there was no chance of her sailors talking about their exploit on shore. In fact, Concord’s captain, Lieutenant Commander Nigel Rodney, told his crew that their mission had to remain secret.

  Derek Hodgson, one of the sailors on board Concord, wrote of the tension crews experienced when they were at action stations:

  When facing danger the ships would be converted into a series of watertight compartments, every door, hatch, porthole scuttle would be tightly clamped creating a gloomy almost airless steel box. Without any form of air conditioning what air there was, was piped through ducting which had an interior full of dust and muck drawn in from outside. Men would, in action, be confined to these areas for many hours, as in our case. A colleague and myself had the misfortune to be allocated the after magazine as our station and action station meaning that the only company to be had were high explosives and the knowledge that if the ship was hit by a shell, it would be unlikely that we could be let out. I do not want to appear over dramatic but do feel that, to form a proper conclusion as to risk, it is necessary to be fully aware of reality.