Yangtze Showdown Read online

  In December 1948 the British ambassador in Nanking, Sir Ralph Stevenson, knew that Chiang’s government was on borrowed time. In a telegram to the Foreign Office in London, he warned: ‘I do not believe situation of central government can be saved.’ He had called on the Nationalist foreign minister, who put on a brave face, stressing that the whole government was determined to continue the struggle against the Communists. Stevenson added: ‘Minister for foreign affairs was sure that His Majesty’s government would agree that if Communists triumph in China it would be a disaster for cause of democracy throughout the world.’ The minister wanted Britain and the United States to provide massive military aid.1

  Two weeks later the ambassador noted: ‘General atmosphere remains one of eternal doom but nobody any longer ventures to predict date of final defeat and disappearance of existing discredited regime.’ Reporting on the latest developments, Stevenson said: ‘There is little change in Hsuchow area but eventual defeat of Chinese government forces is now generally regarded as a foregone conclusion. Public confidence has suffered further shock by the rapid withdrawal of General Fu Tso-yi’s forces from Kaimakam mining area followed by Communist advance towards Tientsin and the virtual encirclement of Peking. Fall of these two cities is regarded as imminent …’ The ambassador said Chiang was under considerable pressure from key figures in his government to delegate his powers and step down.2 The Nationalist cause had been undermined by widespread corruption and economic chaos, which resulted in high inflation. In contrast, Mao’s popular support was growing, particularly in the countryside, where the poor were being promised a better life with land reforms.

  But alarm bells had been ringing at the British embassy for some time. The previous year, 1947, the ambassador had been given permission by the Foreign Office to appeal directly to the Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Navy’s Far East Station for help in an emergency.3 This represented a somersault by the Foreign Office, which had been keen to curb the navy’s influence in China, no doubt fearing it was an unhelpful reminder of Britain’s imperial past. Under the Treaty of Tientsin in 1858 British warships were given the right to patrol the Yangtze to protect trade. It was the start of decades of so-called gunboat diplomacy in which the United States also played a major part. The White Ensign, however, ruled. The Second World War halted the gunboats but the Royal Navy was keen to fly the flag again in 1945. In August of that year the Admiralty had been alerted that the US western Pacific fleet planned to send warships to the Yangtze, and by the following month the Americans had ‘a strong and well organised force’ ready.4

  The reluctance of the Foreign Office clearly irritated the Admiralty, whose Director of Plans noted: ‘The Foreign Office attitude, while it must obviously be given due weight, does not appear to be realistic if at the same time they are recommending the development of our commercial interests in China.’5 Indeed, British merchant ship owners wanted to return to Chinese waters as soon as possible. As well as protecting trade, gunboats had other advantages: they were the ‘only reliable and effective means of urgent and secret communications’ between diplomats and the outside world; they could be used to evacuate British subjects; they were ‘a very considerable addition to our prestige’ and a focal point of liaison between British interests and the Chinese authorities; and they could be used as an official means of transport.6

  The Admiralty’s Head of M Branch had suggested that the Chinese government could be given the responsibility of running gunboat patrols, which would deal with ‘bandits and Communists’, an interesting observation about the status of Mao’s forces.7 But the Director of Plans did not believe that Chinese gunboats would be suitable or competent. Five Royal Navy gunboats would be available in 1946, and in the meantime it was proposed to use sloops. The Foreign Office would be ‘invited to obtain Chinese agreement to the re-establishment of Yangtze and West River patrols’. A formal request was necessary because under treaties signed in 1943 Britain and the US had relinquished rights to send their warships into Chinese waters.

  When the Second World War ended the Royal Navy knew that it would have to cut its huge fleet. Britain was burdened with debt and years of austerity lay ahead. But the navy still believed that it had a world role to play. There was enormous prestige at stake, and it wanted to keep as many ships and bases as possible. A paper for naval chiefs stressed:

  British interests are worldwide and the inherent mobility of the navy makes it still an effective and economical instrument for settling minor troubles or disputes. The mere existence of a strong navy is a considerable influence for peace and quiet, and the presence of HM ships at ports will often prevent unrest; the universal popularity of the bluejacket is also a national asset.

  Trade follows the flag. This proved very true between 1919 and 1939 during which period it was found necessary, for economic reasons, to revive the South American squadron. If we wish to regain, let alone improve, our pre-war standard of living, our export trade will need re-establishing and greatly increasing. Without this we shall be unable to maintain armed forces commensurate with our territorial possessions and responsibilities. ‘Showing the flag’ by HM ships is one of the best ways of fostering British trade, and at the same time guarding British lives and property.8

  The appraisal may not have reflected Foreign Office thinking, but in 1948 Sir Ralph Stevenson was certainly happy to have the support of the navy. As Mao’s forces pushed forward and Nanking sensed the inevitable, the ambassador took up the navy’s offer to station a guardship at the capital. The Yangtze flows past the west side of the city. Stevenson’s previous posting was as ambassador to Yugoslavia, and he would be seen as having ‘one of the best minds’ in the Foreign Office. He had military experience, having served in the Rifle Brigade during the First World War.9

  In November of that year the first warship arrived … Amethyst. The frigate brought food and was ready to take part in any evacuation. The voyage from Shanghai to Nanking, a distance of 177 miles, passed without incident. In December the destroyer HMS Constance replaced Amethyst, which evacuated six women and five children. Over the ensuing months several warships took turns in acting as the guardship – the frigate HMS Alacrity, the destroyer HMS Concord, the frigate HMS Black Swan and the destroyer HMS Consort. The Far East Station was short of ships and the Australians and Canadians agreed to play their part. Vice Admiral Alexander Madden, Second-in-Command, Far East Station, thought the risk of the Communists provoking a military incident was ‘small and should be accepted’. The ships provided ‘succour’ to Commonwealth embassies. As well as bringing stores to the British embassy, they helped out the Australian, Canadian and Swiss embassies, and Constance left Nanking with the fleeing Czech ambassador and his family.10 In reality, the ships were ‘flying the flag’, a morale booster for the foreigners who remained in Nanking – many had already left. In reality, one of the Royal Air Force’s Sunderland flying boats based in Hong Kong could have brought the supplies and taken part in an evacuation. In December 1948 Stevenson’s embassy staff totalled fifty, including twenty-two women, and there were forty-three British civilians elsewhere in Nanking. The Canadians had only six people at their embassy and the Australians had reduced their embassy staff to seven.

  Australia’s ambassador, Keith Officer, who had a reputation for caution, seemed particularly anxious not to put the lives of Australians at risk. In the November all female staff at the embassy and wives were evacuated in an emergency airlift. In January 1949 the Australian destroyer HMAS Warramunga was sent to Nanking to act as the guardship, replacing Black Swan. But shortly after Warramunga’s arrival it was decided that the ship should not stay because of the possibility of ‘anti-foreign feeling’. The ‘appearance of Australian sailors in the capital might cause incidents’.11 The decision was almost certainly taken on the advice of Officer, who was in close contact with his country’s Department of External Affairs.

  There had not been any reported problems with previous visits by Amethyst, Constance, Alacri
ty or Concord. It was not, however, a popular destination. As one sailor from Concord put it: ‘Nanking was boring. You weren’t allowed into the city. We could only use a little bar in an egg-packing station and a football field. You were there for a month and it seemed like forever.’

  In February 1949 peace talks were held between the Nationalists and the Communists following Chiang Kai-shek’s resignation as president, but Mao’s temporary truce was largely seen as a ploy to gain time to build up his forces on the northern banks of the Yangtze. The Communists were virtually demanding the complete surrender of the Nationalists. Officer sent an accurate assessment of the likely course of events to his Minister of State for External Affairs, Herbert Evatt: ‘It now appears that, should peace negotiations fail, the Nationalists may intend to try and hold the Yangtze line, as they have 19 armies stretched between Kiukiang and Shanghai. Although this sounds a considerable force, most of the troops are ill equipped, badly fed and clothed, and with practically no morale left at all. I therefore do not think the Communists will have much difficulty in crossing the river.’12

  The destroyer Consort was sent to Nanking as the guardship in March, replacing the Canadian destroyer HMCS Crescent, and she was due to be relieved on 12 April. Despite the fiasco over Warramunga, the Far East Station decided to use another Australian warship, the frigate HMAS Shoalhaven. But on 7 April Officer had urgent talks with the British ambassador. He asked for Shoalhaven’s departure from Shanghai to be delayed. The Communist ultimatum to the Nationalists had been rejected, and Mao’s forces were expected to launch attacks across the Yangtze at any time. Shoalhaven could be in danger. Stevenson passed on Officer’s misgivings to the Far East Station. The Australian ambassador’s caution must have stemmed in part from his experiences during the First World War. He had served as an army captain during the disastrous Gallipoli campaign, which cost the lives of so many men from Australia and New Zealand. Officer, who went on to win the Military Cross, witnessed the horrors. The architect of the Gallipoli campaign had been the then First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill.

  Vice Admiral Madden waited a week but the response was the same. The Australians made it clear that their ships could be used for ‘mercy purposes only’. Two days later Madden decided to send Amethyst instead. The frigate arrived at Shanghai from Hong Kong on 16 April.13 John Smith, senior researcher of the Naval Historical Society of Australia, explained: ‘The Australian government – Prime Minister Ben Chifley – ordered that in view of the rapidly deteriorating situation Shoalhaven was not to complete the mission.’14 Chifley was well aware that the approaching 25 April marked Anzac Day, when Australia and New Zealand honour their war dead, and he would not have wanted the possibility of his sailors becoming casualties at such a sensitive time. More than 27,000 Australians were killed in action during the Second World War, and there were painful memories of the First World War, especially Gallipoli. Chifley was also aware that his Labor Party would be facing a difficult election later in the year. Shoalhaven’s captain, Lieutenant Commander William Tapp, confirmed that ‘government policy had effected Shoalhaven’s movements’. He noted: ‘The morale of the ship’s company was high during the period in Shanghai although the ship’s role of waiting for events was rather trying.’15

  The US Navy, of course, also refused to send a warship. American ambassador John Stuart had arranged with the commander of his country’s western Pacific fleet, Vice Admiral Oscar Badger, for a vessel to be sent in an emergency. ‘He assured me that whenever I asked for one it would be there in three days,’ Stuart noted. ‘I had accordingly sent a request ten days or more earlier [around 10 April] but there were delays and, fortunately for us, Admiral Badger finally stopped the sailing unless I overruled him.’ Badger was not a timid commander. He had a distinguished career, winning the Medal of Honor. Stuart, a former missionary who was fiercely opposed to Communism, would later reflect: ‘From the broader standpoint it was lucky after all that it was the British rather than American navy in view of the way we had been singled out for Communist vituperation.’16

  Amethyst was a 1,350-ton frigate of the modified Black Swan class. Built in Govan, she had been commissioned in November 1943, the seventh Royal Navy vessel to bear the name, with a history going back to 1793. The ship was originally classed as a sloop, pennant number U16, which was later changed to F116. Her top speed was just under 20 knots. After commissioning, the ship served the remaining months of the Second World War in the Mediterranean and in home waters, mainly on convoy duties. On 20 February 1945 Amethyst destroyed U 1276 with depth charges off the south coast of Ireland shortly after the German submarine sank the corvette HMS Vervain. Fifty-nine members of Vervain’s crew were killed and all forty-nine on board U 1276 perished. After a refit at her home port of Devonport in May of that year Amethyst went to the Far East, where she remained, based in Hong Kong. From 1947 until the early part of 1949 she carried out patrols off Malaya, some of them as part of that country’s Communist emergency.

  Before sailing for Nanking on the morning of 19 April, 1949, Amethyst rendezvoused with Shoalhaven at Shanghai. The Australian frigate transferred the stores and oil she had been planning to take to Nanking. There was even time for the crews to play a football match. But some of Amethyst’s crew were puzzled that they were going instead of the Australians. Navigator’s yeoman Donald Redman recalled: ‘None of us was made aware of what we could expect. The only thing that we thought was funny – there was an Australian frigate that was due to do the run we were suddenly allotted to do. We were told that the Australian government thought it was inappropriate that a frigate should go up the Yangtze at this time. But we were told you’re going up.’17 Amethyst sailed after getting clearance from the Nationalist authorities, expecting to reach Nanking the following day, 20 April. The Communist truce was due to end that night. Consort would sail on the same day on her return trip. Vice Admiral Madden hoped that Amethyst and Consort would be safe at their respective destinations before the Communists launched their river crossings.

  The main reason Madden gave for sending Amethyst at such a critical time during the civil war was a fear that Consort might not have enough fuel to return to Shanghai if she remained too long at Nanking. The Far East Station had a policy that a ship’s stock of fuel should not be allowed to drop below 35 per cent. On 20 April Consort had an estimated 53 per cent remaining, which would have dropped to 43 per cent on arrival at Shanghai. It was also estimated that the last day the destroyer could have remained at the capital was 26 April. Her stock of dry provisions would have started to run out by 1 May.18 But Madden neglected to reveal that a large quantity of fuel was being stored at Nanking for emergencies – something that Amethyst would find extremely useful.

  Madden was also contradicted on two important points by Consort’s captain, Commander Ian Robertson. On the question of being relieved on 20 April, Robertson reported: ‘We could, in fact, have stayed some weeks more by eke-ing out our fuel.’ Madden told the Admiralty that Consort’s time of departure from Nanking was not delayed but advanced on 20 April, from 0400 to 0330. In fact, Commander Robertson had not been told there was any urgency and planned to sail at 1200. He actually sailed at 1150 after learning that Amethyst was under attack, first dashing to a meeting at the British embassy to discuss the crisis with ambassador Stevenson and the naval attaché, Captain Vernon Donaldson. Earlier that morning Robertson had been out hunting snipe.

  No attempt had been made to warn Communist forces of Amethyst’s sailing. Stevenson and the Governor of Hong Kong, Sir Alexander Grantham, had already made it clear that it would be ‘inappropriate’ to have diplomatic contacts with them. However, in January 1949 Captain Donaldson informed Vice Admiral Madden that he was ‘endeavouring, by oblique methods which did not raise questions of diplomatic recognition, to inform the Communists that one of HM ships was being maintained at Nanking for humanitarian purposes only’. Madden reported: ‘I therefore told assistant naval attaché Shanghai and senior B
ritish naval officer (afloat) Nanking to do likewise, using similar methods.’19

  Could Amethyst have been recalled once she set sail? The First Lord of the Admiralty, Lord Hall, told Prime Minister Clement Attlee that an intelligence report revealing the Communists were likely to cross the Yangtze early on 21 April had been issued ‘probably on the 19th’. He added: ‘It has not been possible to establish at what precise time this report was received by all concerned but Amethyst was already well up the river and fairly close to her destination before effective action could have been taken to cancel her passage.’20

  Attlee was not being told the truth. Donaldson, the naval attaché in Nanking, had sent the warning to Vice Admiral Madden in plenty of time to recall Amethyst. Two likely crossing points along the frigate’s route were named, Kuaanl and Deer Island. The warning was referred to in a telegram from the Foreign Office to Stevenson on 20 April. The message was unsigned but may well have been sent by Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin. It said: ‘I am not clear why Amethyst had to pass through danger zone so close to the possible zero hour and shall be grateful for immediate information as to the precise circumstances in which Amethyst was proceeding to Nanking at this juncture.’ The message was headed: ‘This telegram is of particular secrecy and should be retained by the authorised recipient and not passed on.’21 Stevenson replied that, like the admiral, he thought Amethyst could gamble on beating the deadline.22

  The frigate’s voyage could have been postponed before she sailed from Shanghai on 19 April, and there was a 24-hour window, from 0800 on 19 April to around 0800 on 20 April, when she could easily have been contacted and recalled. Donaldson’s telegram, addressed to the Second-in-Command, Far East Station, was sent at 0655 on 19 April. There had been problems with communications from Nanking but the message would have been given priority. In a secret report dated 7 July 1949, Madden said he received the warning ‘in the evening of 19 April’, a bafflingly long delay. Even at that time, Amethyst was safely anchored at Kiangyin, well away from Communist forces, and in a position to return to Shanghai.23 Lord Hall completely misled the prime minister when he said the frigate was ‘fairly close to her destination’ and it was too late to stop her.