Yangtze Showdown Read online

  The first part of Amethyst’s voyage proved uneventful. The frigate, with a crew of 171 plus a number of Chinese who worked as cooks, stewards or laundrymen, left Holt’s Wharf, Shanghai, at the scheduled time, 0800, and headed 12 miles down the Whangpoo [Huangpu] River to Woosung, where the Whangpoo joins the Yangtze. An English pilot was disembarked off the Woosung forts. Then the frigate headed up the Yangtze with two Chinese pilots, anchoring at Kiangyin, 92 miles from Shanghai, in the late afternoon after getting permission from the Nationalist navy, which months earlier had warned that it could not guarantee the safety of Royal Navy ships using the Yangtze. At 0510 on 20 April, Amethyst continued her journey but stopped less than 90 minutes later because of fog. The voyage resumed at 0734. During the next hour it was decided to test the firing circuits of the main guns – perhaps not the wisest move – and this noise may have alerted Communist troops. The first attack came soon afterwards.

  3

  Machine-gunned in the Water

  WHEN THE WOUNDED LIEUTENANT WESTON gave the order to evacuate Amethyst at about 1030 on 20 April, the Communists were still firing at the ship. In the confusion some men did not know the order had been given – those in the engine room, for instance – and there were ratings who ‘were prepared to stay at all costs’. Weston had not intended to completely abandon the frigate. He was expecting some of the men who had not been wounded to find safety on the south bank of Rose Island and then return at nightfall so that attempts could be made to refloat the ship – and perhaps escape. The evacuation faced immediate problems. The ship’s motorboat and one of the two whalers could not be used because they were too badly damaged. Oddly, it was the whaler on the starboard side, facing the Communist batteries, that had survived and not the port whaler. The starboard whaler was lowered and, along with Carley floats, towed round to the port side of the quarterdeck to take off some of the wounded. The wounded Lieutenant Berger was supervising the evacuation and Commissioned Gunner Eric Monaghan, who had survived the sinking of the battlecruiser HMS Repulse and the aircraft carrier HMS Hermes during the Second World War, took charge of the whaler, which was loaded with medical supplies and a small quantity of food. The whaler headed for the southern shore but came under heavy fire. One of the wounded, Ordinary Seaman Patrick Sinnott, was hit again and died.

  When the whaler reached the shore, Berger gave an order that ‘all able-bodied men who were able to’ should swim to the bank, which was 50 yards away. Around sixty-five sailors jumped over the side, some with lifebelts. The Communists immediately targeted them with artillery and machine gun fire. Several men died, including Chief Petty Officer Stoker Mechanic Owen Aubrey, who may have drowned after being shot.1

  Able Seaman Gordon Wright recalled:

  When they said abandon ship I thought I might as well go as a lot of them had gone. A couple of the boats were all messed up because of the shrapnel. I put my head through a porthole and one of the stokers was going past the ship in the six-knot current. He was struggling and then I heard a machine gun. He put his hands up in the air and went under. So I thought this is the worst of two evils. I might just as well stay on board. They need able-bodied people so I’ll stay. They were firing so much. One man in the boat was brought back dead [Sinnott] and we got him on board. But they all started to smell a lot. We had to cover them up. I was wearing a handkerchief round my face.2

  About sixty men reached the south bank but by this time Berger had decided that the risks in carrying on with the evacuation were too great and he stopped it. He ordered a white flag – a sheet – to be hoisted but the firing continued and it was hauled down. It soon occurred to him that the sheet might be taken as a sign of surrender and a signal that the Communists could board the ship.

  With machine guns raking the upper deck Weston crawled to the shelter of the radar office. Later he was helped to the wireless office ‘where we set up our headquarters’. Soon after 1100 the artillery ceased firing. About half an hour later the whaler returned with Monaghan and three sailors who had volunteered to man it, including Jack French, who was told to get back on board the ship – he was now Amethyst’s sole telegraphist and he would play a key role in keeping communications open with the Far East Station.3

  At this point Amethyst had a crew of around seventy men in reasonable shape, with seventeen dead and twenty-five wounded. The dead lay where they had been killed. Most of the wounded were moved to the after mess deck where they received limited first aid. The sick bay had taken a direct hit, which killed a boy sailor who was ill in bed. Helping the wounded was the manager of the NAAFI, John MacNamara, a civilian who had a first-aid action station. Later he filled a bucket with sweets and cigarettes and passed it round, without bothering to seek payment. The gesture was appreciated. But those lying wounded on the quarterdeck, where they had been waiting for evacuation, could not be moved without provoking small-arms fire and they were left there.

  When the first sailors reached the south bank of Rose Island, which was controlled by the Nationalists, they faced another hazard – minefields. Fortunately, they were spotted by friendly soldiers and guided through the danger. But a friendly face had not greeted Donald Redman, the navigator’s yeoman who had been wounded three times, the first time on the bridge. He was among a group of fifteen sailors who were confronted by a young Nationalist officer accompanied by eight soldiers with fixed bayonets. ‘The officer probably thought we were mercenaries because he thrust this revolver in my face, which was painfully swollen, shouting and screaming,’ said Redman. ‘He beckoned towards a hut that was nearby. He pushed me inside and produced a pen.’ Redman drew the outline of the ship with a Union Jack. ‘With the wet brush I went plop, plop, plop to imitate the shell bursts and suddenly he said, “Ahh”, and realised we were British. He produced a plate of rice biscuits. But what we needed was a doctor. I drew a cross like a red cross and he got the gist of it, that we needed a doctor and he started giving a few orders.’ The group had to walk about a mile – Redman with only one shoe – to a spot where they received first aid.4

  Other groups were also taken inland because they were attracting fire on Nationalist positions. Most of the sailors ended up at a village seven miles from the ship. But eight ratings, the last to get ashore, remained hidden in long grass on the south bank because Communist snipers had them pinned down. These men did not know about the minefields and several of them actually sat on mines, making the discovery when two soldiers appeared on the scene to lay more of them. Luckily, none of the mines worked. The two soldiers approached the ship and shouted to the remaining Chinese pilot. The pilot asked to go ashore to speak to the soldiers and he was given permission in the hope that he could arrange for a doctor to come aboard.

  The whaler was manned, with Monaghan again in charge, and it left under the cover of the port side. The pilot was told he must return to the ship. Also in the whaler was the ship’s Chinese tailor. Then it was noticed, as the whaler pulled away, that the pilot had taken his bag, and shouts to Monaghan made it clear he had to ensure the man’s return. After landing, Monaghan and the two Chinese headed for the Nationalist headquarters, guided by the two soldiers. Then the pilot disappeared, never to be seen again. It was perhaps not surprising that he had no wish to return to the ship. Before dying, the other Chinese pilot, who had the back of his head blown away, tried to commit suicide by pushing his tongue down his throat and choking himself because he was in such pain. Monaghan arranged for an army doctor to come to the ship, and he also made telephone contact with a petty officer who had taken charge of the sailors at the village seven miles from the ship. Weston reported later: ‘I had not intended them to go so far but had given them no specific orders.’

  The colonel in command of the soldiers said the sailors could not be guided back through the minefields in darkness. Weston, hoping that Amethyst could be refloated that night, decided that the men should make their way to the mainland and then try to get to Shanghai by train. This message was conveyed through Monagh
an, who returned to the ship with the eight ratings left stranded on the south bank, along with another disoriented sailor.5

  That evening Hett asked for volunteers to collect the bodies, and MacNamara, the NAAFI manager, was one of the men who stepped forward. Because of the danger of snipers they could not use lights. MacNamara stumbled across a body in the darkness and one of his hands slid into a gaping wound. Shaken, he told Hett that ‘we would do more harm than good’, and the task was postponed until the morning.

  During the night Able Seaman Thomas Townsend had the fright of his life. He was going to the upper deck to act as a lookout in case the Communists tried to board the ship. As he walked down a passageway to the quarterdeck the door at the other end opened and ‘in stepped a fellow we had put out with the bodies’. Townsend said: ‘He had a very bad head wound and we all thought he was dead. But he walked in and I remember looking at him and thinking I was seeing a ghost. We ran down to him and helped him to the mess deck, and made him as comfortable as we could. The memory of seeing him has stayed with me. I don’t think you ever get over things like that.’6

  Commander Richard Hare, an officer on the staff of the Commander-in-Chief, Far East Station, would soon find himself involved in an attempt to rescue Amethyst as one of the men on board the cruiser HMS London. Later he raised an awkward question: were some of the men on Rose Island deserters? Hare explained: ‘I had the job of writing a report on the whole Amethyst affair. One aspect made this difficult because roughly half of Amethyst’s ship’s company had left the ship and, goodness knows how, made their way overland to Shanghai. The question was, had they been told to, or had they deserted? It was no joke interviewing all these characters without the available evidence of those who remained on board. I concluded that some had permission and others had not, but drawing the line was impossible.’7 Weston had expected the fit men to return to the ship. He hoped he still had enough crew to get out of danger and escape.

  4

  Consort’s Dash

  FOR COMMANDER IAN ROBERTSON IT had been a good start to the day. He returned to Consort in time for Colours at 0800 on 20 April having bagged six snipe. China may have been facing a critical time in its civil war, but it had been a busy month so far for the destroyer’s captain dealing with the challenges of social engagements in Nanking. On 6 April US Army Day had been celebrated with a big party at the International Club. Three days later 100 guests were entertained at a cocktail party on board the ship, which was followed by a concert. On 11 April Robertson dined with the Egyptian ambassador and on 14 April there was lunch with a Burmese minister. On 16 April it was dinner with the French ambassador.1

  At 0950 on 20 April, Robertson realised he would be facing a completely different kind of engagement. He learned of the attack on Amethyst, and before the day was out ten of his crew would be dead or fatally wounded, with many more casualties. The contrast could not have been greater. The naval attaché, Captain Donaldson, came on board at 1030, and the two officers then went to the British embassy to see the ambassador. There was some delay in getting there because of market-day crowds. Robertson was told that Vice Admiral Madden had decided Consort, the nearest ship, should go to Amethyst’s aid, though it was not clear where exactly the frigate had run aground. The last reported position, given in the confusion of shelling, put Amethyst on land, away from the Yangtze. Madden was aware that Consort would have to go through ‘a reputed danger area’ near Chingkiang but the ‘risks must be accepted’.2

  Robertson, awarded the Distinguished Service Cross and Bar during the Second World War, was back on board by 1125 and 25 minutes later Consort was heading down river. Seven hundred cases of empty beer bottles, which had been carefully lashed on deck, were thrown overboard, presumably to avoid the risk of flying glass in the event of attack and to help with speed. The empties, worth £160, a not inconsiderable sum and the reserves of the canteen fund, were quickly fished out of the water by a ‘swarm’ of sampans astern of the destroyer. The 1,885-ton ship was soon making 20 knots, which would increase to a bow-waving 27 knots. Concord was racing towards Amethyst. When the destroyer left Nanking she was cleared for action. Her main armament – four 4.5in guns, ‘A’, ‘B’, ‘X’ and ‘Y’ – was lined up and checked, and shells placed in loading trays. There were also four 40mm Bofors and smaller-calibre anti-aircraft guns. Surprisingly, there were not enough sailors to man ‘Y’ gun because the ship was not carrying a full complement, but it was ready for action in case a gun crew needed to switch. Chinese stewards, ‘unofficial’ Chinese and mess boys were given the task of helping to supply ammunition. Consort was displaying two large Union Jacks on the sides of her hull, as Amethyst had done, and flying seven White Ensigns. As one officer observed: ‘There could be no doubt as to our identity although the latter may have seemed somewhat provocative to the Chinese.’

  The ship was reduced to defence stations until 1300 when actions stations resumed. There had been time for lunch but as soon as that finished the wardroom was turned into a sick bay. The dinning table became an operating table. That afternoon the wardroom floor would be ‘inches in blood’. The main guns were left fore and aft to show ‘peaceful intent’, but the director controlling them had been ordered to sweep the north bank continuously for enemy positions so that there would be a quick response if the ship came under attack. As Consort passed Bethune Point there was a lot of automatic small arms fire. After several hits Robertson ordered one salvo to be fired, and there was a direct hit on a post with two machine guns. Firing from the north bank ceased.3 The ship’s main guns returned to fore and aft positions.

  Stoker Thomas Flanagan’s recollection: ‘We were powering down. Our bow waves were sweeping up on the banks of the Yangtze. As we rounded a bend in the river there was a building on the bank full of troops and they were out of windows shooting at us. And they were running down the beaches shooting at us. The skipper brought the guns round and as we went past the building – whoosh – it just collapsed. We were out of range in no time and it went quiet again.’4

  At 1340 Amethyst was sighted and she appeared to be flying two white flags. Unknown to Consort, two rocket-firing Nationalist planes had attacked the Communist batteries opposite Rose Island about an hour earlier. Amethyst signalled, ‘If you are fired on I advise you to turn back.’ Commander Robertson reported:

  I replied, ‘Where are the enemy guns?’ and slowed down to 15 knots from 27 knots. At this moment at least one field gun opened fire on Consort from a range of 2,800 yards. After two salvoes had nearmissed, I opened fire with air bursts and later, when emplacements could be distinguished, with high explosives. After about four salvoes one gun emplacement was seen to suffer a direct hit, and fire was shifted to the next – a battery of three guns, which were effectively silenced, and then a four-gun battery was engaged at 1,200 yards. No hits were obtained mainly due to the large line spread.

  According to one officer, when Robertson gave the order to return fire he used the words ‘with knobs on’. The key officers on board Amethyst, Weston and Berger, seemed to have lost track of time and gave differing accounts of Consort’s appearance, no doubt because of their injuries. According to Berger, ‘the mast’ of Consort was sighted at 1500, more than one hour and twenty minutes after Robertson reported seeing the frigate. Weston thought the chances of refloating Amethyst under the devastating fire that was expected were remote and would only result in serious damage to Consort. He therefore told her to continue down river. At this stage Weston was still in his headquarters, the wireless office, continuing to direct operations, though he remained in considerable pain, vomiting frequently. Berger’s activities were confined to the bridge and the wireless office because he had great difficulty walking.

  Most of Amethyst’s crew were kept below because the ship was attracting machine-gun fire, but those who saw Consort were overjoyed. James Johnston, a 21-year-old able seaman, said: ‘HMS Consort came steaming down river, her battle ensigns flying, and she let go with eve
rything she had, which made us feel so grateful that we stood up and cheered.’ Consort passed the frigate and signalled, ‘Prepare to tow aft’. Able Seaman Raymond Calcott said: ‘It was a glorious sight and it cheered us up no end. We thought that she was going to tow us off, and I was one of the volunteers who went to the stern to try and rig for towing.’ Led by Gunner Monaghan, several sailors crawled out onto Amethyst’s quarterdeck and managed to get out a tow wire but were forced to retreat to safety because of heavy sniping. Consort carried on for about two miles, turned round and slowly headed up river. There was little damage and there were no casualties. The batteries opposite Rose Island had stopped firing after being ‘well shaken up’, and Robertson thought there was still a good chance of reaching Amethyst, which signalled that medical supplies were needed urgently. As Consort neared ‘hell fire corner’ she came under attack again but picked off four more emplacements with her main guns. The Bofors also ‘beat up enemy concentrations’. But when the destroyer was one and a half miles away from Amethyst concealed 37mm anti-tank guns, as well as 105mm artillery, opened up. This time Consort took major hits. The wheelhouse was wrecked, killing the coxswain, wounding the others there, and putting the forward steering out of action. ‘A’ gun was knocked out.5