Yangtze Showdown Read online

  Within days of Amethyst’s escape there had been talk of making a film about her exploit. The Fifth Sea Lord, Vice Admiral Maurice Mansergh, was enthusiastic and asked the Chief of Naval Information, Captain Clarke, to explore the possibility. David MacDonald and Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Rawlinson, who both worked for a major film company, the Rank Organisation, were approached. MacDonald had directed Desert Victory, a 1943 documentary about the campaign against Rommel’s Afrika Korps in North Africa. The response was positive: ‘They consider that the Amethyst story has the makings of an excellent film, which would be not only of good commercial value for the company undertaking it, but also excellent for British prestige and for British naval publicity all over the world.’ A film similar to Desert Victory, lasting around 70 minutes, was envisaged. The head of the Rank Organisation, J Arthur Rank, would be approached. If he turned the idea down, the director and producer Sir Alexander Korda would be sounded out. It was made clear that only a ‘first-class film company’ could be involved, and the idea needed to be kept confidential ‘on account of the political angle attaching to the Amethyst episode’. And the Foreign Office would have to give its approval.

  J Arthur Rank did show interest and liked the idea of a film along the lines of In Which We Serve, a 1942 production directed by Noel Coward and David Lean. The film, which also starred Coward, was inspired by the exploits of the destroyer HMS Kelly, commanded by Lord Mountbatten, which was sunk during the Battle of Crete. Captain Clarke thought an ‘up-to-date In Which We Serve’ would be good for recruiting. If the navy offered full facilities, the company would be obliged to allow the Admiralty to keep a check on the production, making sure it remained ‘on the tram lines’. Another company was interested in making a documentary.15

  There was no film deal, probably because the Foreign Office objected on the grounds that the subject was still too sensitive at a time when Britain was trying to establish diplomatic relations with the Chinese Communists. However, a film called Yangtze Incident did appear in 1957. It was made by British Lion Films, in which Korda had a controlling interest. Directed by Michael Anderson and produced by Herbert Wilcox, it starred the popular actor Richard Todd as an apparently flawless Kerans. The River Orwell in Suffolk became the Yangtze and Amethyst was taken out of mothballs in Devonport for a starring role. Another frigate, HMS Magpie, was also used. The film was based on a book by Lawrence Earl, Yangtze Incident, The Story of HMS Amethyst, which had been written with the co-operation of Kerans, who acted as a technical adviser during filming.

  The battle scenes were realistic, but the Royal Navy almost sank Amethyst in the process, something the Chinese Communists had failed to do. A team of experts, led by Lieutenant Max Reid, were sent from the Portsmouth shore base HMS Vernon to carry out the special effects. The ‘experts’ blew a hole in the hull, which flooded the engine room. Reid’s son Mark explained:

  Their equipment was crude in the extreme and included a car battery and a board fitted with nails as their demolition panel. The incident which cracked a plate in the ship’s side resulted from a moored underwater charge during an extended pause in filming. By the time the lighting or make-up specialists had given their approval to continue filming the charge had drifted against the ship’s side and the resulting damage sent a couple of matelots racing to the local fire station to borrow a pump – most of the ship’s equipment had already been removed.

  The water was pumped out and filming resumed the next day but the incident had been witnessed by a former captain RN who had retired to the River Orwell and had immediately phoned a friend at the Admiralty. My father was summoned back to HMS Vernon to explain himself but returned later that day, a somewhat chastened special effects expert!16

  Yangtze Incident, with its patriotic theme, was a cinema success, but the makers had largely ignored the background to the attack on Amethyst and the political dimensions. There was artistic licence. The Woosung forts were seen opening fire on the frigate, for example, and the official line that Concord had not entered the Yangtze was repeated. The role of London and Black Swan was underplayed.

  26

  The Case against China

  BOTH THE ADMIRALTY AND THE Foreign Office realised that ‘sooner or later’ they would have to argue the Amethyst case and the question of compensation with the Chinese Communists. It was likely to be later. Experience had shown that any negotiations were certain to be difficult. In August 1949 it was evident that the Communists would win the civil war and seize power. That would give rise to the thorny question of establishing diplomatic relations. On 10 August the Foreign Office told the Admiralty that it was important to get detailed accounts of the attacks on Amethyst on 20 April and 30 July as soon as possible ‘before memory becomes dimmed and imagination runs riot’. Members of the ship’s company should be asked to make signed statements.1 There were also the attacks on Consort, London and Black Swan.

  On 15 August the Admiralty replied that it had already started collecting evidence. In early July sailors who escaped from Amethyst after the 20 April attack were asked to give statements, as were officers and men from the other ships. A key issue was who opened fire first. Since Amethyst’s escape other members of the crew had been asked to give statements, which were not sworn but witnessed by an officer.

  A full report was being written by Kerans. It was pointed out: ‘We had thought of drawing attention to the fact that the CO in writing his Report of Proceedings, and the senior naval authorities in their covering remarks, should bear in mind that it might be made public. We did not do so, however, partly because we thought this unnecessary, and partly in order to avoid any imputation of influencing the evidence. However, if you or your legal adviser think this desirable, we will do this.’2 Kerans’s report would be closed to the public until 1980, although some parts were kept secret for much longer – and originally not due for release until 2025.

  On 31 August the Far East Station informed the Admiralty that it had collected a number of statements – forty from Amethyst, fourteen from Consort, twenty-eight from London, including six Royal Marines, and twelve from Black Swan. Lieutenant Henry Mirehouse gave a statement, disclosing that some of the officers on board Amethyst were well aware of the danger as the frigate sailed up the Yangtze. ‘The ship’s company were closed up at action stations at about 0830,’ Mirehouse stated. ‘I was told, either just before or when I arrived on the bridge, that this was because we were approaching a recognised crossing which the Communists might be expected to use if they attacked the south bank.’ If Amethyst knew about the crossing point, then Vice Admiral Madden also must have been aware of it. As the Sunday Pictorial pointed out on 24 April: ‘The British have the finest intelligence system in the world, and it is impossible to believe that naval units were sent up the Yangtze without possessing information on the disposition of forces likely to be hostile. Were they, therefore, sent on their mission in spite of the existence of such information?’ The captain, Lieutenant Commander Skinner, was also aware that the Communist ultimatum to the Nationalists expired that day. Mirehouse confirmed that the Communists on the north bank opened fire first, about 45 minutes after the ship closed up. ‘There is no doubt that we were the target as there was no other vessel in the vicinity, indeed I doubt whether there was one in sight at the time, and we were I should say quite four cables from the south bank. I think all the projectiles fired on this occasion were explosive, as the range must have been upwards of one mile, and explosions were clearly audible as the shells hit the water. I estimate that about 30 shells were fired, most of which fell on the port side within two cables of the ship. The firing continued for about two minutes.’

  Skinner gave the order to return fire but the gunnery control officer reported that the target was very hard to find. The captain said something to the effect, ‘Do the best you can’. There were fleeting puffs of smoke on the shore. Then the firing ceased, ‘and I am almost certain that we did not fire a single round on this occasion’.

&
nbsp; The main attack came about half an hour later. Mirehouse stated: ‘My first intimation that we were being fired on was a metallic clang as of a bullet striking the ship – I heard no explosion – followed immediately by a scream, coming I thought from the starboard Oerlikon position. There is no doubt that the enemy fired first.’ Shortly afterwards Mirehouse and others were wounded when two shells apparently hit the bridge at the same time. ‘Either before or just after he was wounded, I heard the captain order a white flag to be hoisted, but I was unable from where I was lying to see whether this was flying or not.’ The Communists continued firing. Mirehouse was taken to the quarterdeck. ‘I had been struck by the cheerfulness and apparent nonchalance of the stretcher party who had brought me down from the bridge, and of those I had seen on the quarterdeck.’3

  Commissioned Gunner Alec Monaghan pointed out that the firing eased during the first attack when the two large Union Flags were unfurled on the sides of Amethyst. Of Lieutenant Weston’s decision to get many of the ratings ashore to save lives after the ship ran aground, Monaghan stated: ‘Approximately 65 men jumped and started to swim. The river was then raked with machine gun fire and also where the men were swimming was shelled by the battery. Approximately five were killed. The ratings who reached the shore were then taken inland by Nationalist troops. The wounded, about 15, were still on the quarterdeck and in a very bad state. The Communists prevented any of us rendering assistance by shooting as soon as we showed ourselves. Consequently the wounded had to lay for six hours till dark without attention or water.’ He added: ‘The conduct of the men was remarkable considering 40 new ratings had joined the ship only a week previously.’ Monaghan paid the following tributes: Weston ‘for carrying on though in considerable pain’; Lieutenant Berger ‘for being carried from his stretcher on to the bridge each time the ship moved’; Electrical Artificer Lionel Chare ‘who worked himself to a standstill repairing all emergency lighting then tending the sick all night’; and Surgeon Lieutenant Alderton ‘who, until he was killed, went everywhere unflinchingly, administering first aid’.4

  Petty Officer David Heath, in his statement, said that Amethyst hoisted two white flags but the firing continued. At one point during the attack he found many sailors on the upper deck being issued with rifles and small arms. ‘We lay down on the starboard side in the lee of the motor boat, Bofors guns’ support and X gun which by this time had been hit on at least two occasions and had ceased fire. Whilst we were laying down in the lee of the motor boat a shell landed in the vicinity killing two stokers and one able seaman and wounding a couple of others. These were dragged over the port side and the idea of defending the ship with small arms was tacitly dropped.’5

  Michael Fearnly, the RAF doctor, was asked to give a statement and he related how he had ended up in Monaghan’s sampan after the Sunderland flying boat landed near Amethyst on 21 April. The flight lieutenant had threatened the sampan’s panicking occupants with Monaghan’s revolver when they tried to head straight for the shore. He did not mention this episode and, with a touch of humour, simply stated that ‘the sampan consented to take me to the ship’.6

  Lieutenant Hett gave an account of the attacks on Amethyst during her escape, confirming that once again the Communists had opened fire first. As the frigate followed the merchant ship Kaing Ling Liberation two flares were set off. Soon after the second flare the Communists fired. ‘There can be no doubt to me that the batteries were waiting for us as they gave practically no time to reply to this challenge,’ Hett stated. And no warnings were given when the Communists opened fire further down river.7

  The Admiralty was busy weighing up how the Amethyst case could be pursued. It was important to obtain redress for the ‘wrongs’ inflicted upon the ship and to maintain the rule of law and discourage similar attacks. Clearly, the Communists had opened fire on the frigate without provocation and she was forcibly detained, with ‘suffering so inhumanely inflicted upon her crew’. There was plenty of evidence to support the charges. Also, the ship had the permission of the Nationalist government to sail up the Yangtze. But should the claim against the Communists be pursued or dropped?

  A report pointed out: ‘An important factor in this, of course, will consist of political future developments, many of which are hard to foresee. These will, anyhow, have to be dealt with by the Foreign Office. It is not proposed to argue about these at the moment. One obvious factor in which the Foreign Office and the Admiralty will agree is the general desirability of maintaining both international law and justice, and our own national honour and prestige, which here coincide.’

  The Admiralty was still smarting from the Corfu Channel attacks of 1946. Communist Albania opened fire from the shore on the cruisers HMS Orion and HMS Superb on 15 May 1946. No damage or casualties were inflicted. The British government demanded a public apology but none was given. A much more serious incident took place on 22 October when the cruisers HMS Mauritius and HMS Leander and the destroyers HMS Saumarez and HMS Volage were sailing up the channel. Saumarez struck a mine, which blew off her bows. Volage took the destroyer in tow but also hit a mine. She too lost her bows. Both ships remained afloat and eventually ended up, stern first, in Corfu harbour. Forty-four men were killed and many more wounded. The Admiralty saw it as a ‘particularly humiliating loss of face’. In the November the navy carried out a minesweeping operation in the channel, and Albania protested to the United Nations. Shortly afterwards Britain accused Albania of laying the mines and demanded reparations. The International Court awarded Britain nearly £1 million, but the Albanians refused to pay, and the case was not finally settled until 1996.

  The Admiralty report on Amethyst stressed: ‘It therefore seems essential, in the interests of the Royal Navy, that claims against perpetrators of such aggression should be pressed by all means, as long as possible, and with the greatest possible publicity, with the object both of humiliating the original aggressors and discouraging repetitions for the future. Thus, from the purely Admiralty point of view, there appears to be a strong argument for continuing to press redress of wrong in the Amethyst case.’

  There were several options for pursuing the case. A joint commission would mean appointing special representatives of the two parties. But this was unlikely to work with an ‘aggressive’ Communist state. Mediation by a third party historically had not been very successful. An international commission of inquiry under the Hague Conventions was a possibility, but there might be difficulties in agreeing on the composition. International arbitration, also under the Hague Conventions, would allow judicial decisions and the award of damages. However, there could be difficult questions of international law that the arbitrator might not be competent to answer. Past experience had shown that the United Nations Security Council was an unsuitable body to carry out either a judicial or fact-finding role.

  The best option appeared to be the International Court. But the court could only deal with disputes between states. The report noted: ‘The Chinese Communists are not a state and have so far shown great skill in avoiding the external responsibilities of statehood. Moreover, if and when they do claim to be a state, great complications as to their official recognition will arise, and, if such recognition arises, the Foreign Office legal advisers say they will automatically obtain China’s seat (and right of veto) in the Security Council. In fact, there are a number of confusing factors and no clear solution can be foreseen.’8 As events turned out, the People’s Republic of China had to wait until 1971 for United Nations recognition.

  On 23 August 1949 the Admiralty realised that it would probably have to delay any major action until the Communists formed a ‘responsible’ government, but in the meantime it was important to keep the ‘pot boiling’. Officials wanted to serve a writ on the Communists but there were problems doing even that: ‘They don’t open the front door if you ring. They don’t read your letters if you post them. Knocking on the back door and delivering a message that way would hardly achieve our main object.’ When a decisio
n was taken on the right kind of inquiry, pressure should be kept up on the Communists by using the press, ‘whispering through the back door’, and keeping other governments informed.9

  In October the Admiralty told the Foreign Office that it had collected a number of witness statements, and a complete series of the commander-in-chief’s reports on Amethyst and the other ships would be available shortly. This material would provide the basis for a claim by the government. The Admiralty hoped that the case would not be dropped. It listed the options for pursuing the matter, saying it favoured the International Court.10

  It was clear from the Foreign Office’s reply in November that any progress would be painfully slow. The answer appeared to be contradictory: ‘The first step must certainly be to raise the matter through our representatives with the Chinese Communist authorities, and the course to be pursued thereafter must depend on the Communist reaction to an approach of this nature. We cannot, therefore, raise the matter until we have succeeded in establishing some form of relations with the Communist authorities.’11 And that really was the end of the matter, as Albert Blackburn MP discovered when he asked a question in the House of Commons in March 1951. Foreign Secretary Herbert Morrison admitted that no claim against the Chinese Communists had been made. The Foreign Office had quietly buried the case.

  A Foreign Office briefing document stated: ‘There is no doubt that however deplorable this incident and unjustified the Chinese attack on this ship, no prospect whatsoever of obtaining compensation exists, and the Chinese would almost certainly once more raise their own claims. Politically it would be undesirable to raise this issue since it could only serve to embitter relations which are already bad. Full diplomatic relations with the Chinese government have, of course, not yet been established.’12

  In November 1949 the Foreign Office insisted it needed to establish ‘some form of relations’ to make any progress, yet by March 1951, when that had been done, it still did not want to press the case. Perhaps surprisingly, the Admiralty accepted that ‘up to the moment it is obvious that the time has not yet arrived for raising such issue’. It never would arrive. The Foreign Office and the Admiralty may have been too cautious. Even Mao Tse-tung expressed surprise that the British government had not made a formal protest.13