Yangtze Showdown Page 5

  Acting Sub Lieutenant Christopher Parker-Jervis recalled: ‘Our reactions were very clear – down white flag, train all guns abeam and open fire. We had to wait for them to open fire to provide a point of aim as there was very little to see. As the range was only 2,000 yards or so we were firing almost horizontally if not at depression, which meant that any errors in elevation, especially for the 8in guns, caused very large alterations in range in such a low-lying area.’6

  The batteries stopped firing after four minutes, but at 1104 another battery, in the area of Kuo-chieng-chang, opened fire, hitting London’s bridge and hangar and boat decks. Cazalet, who had won the Distinguished Service Order and Distinguished Service Cross during the Second World War, reported: ‘It was evident that damage and casualties were becoming heavy and I started to consider the advisability of withdrawal. I had in mind the fact that, even if it were possible for London to reach Amethyst’s position, the chances of a successful return with Amethyst at slow speed were almost negligible.’

  Two minutes later the bridge was hit again, killing one of the Chinese pilots and wounding three officers, including Cazalet and the navigator. Damage to instruments and communications on the bridge was severe and the captain wondered if he still had control of the ship. It was unlikely that London could carry on at high speed and under heavy shelling using her emergency conning position. ‘I was in no doubt that the time for withdrawal had arrived and ordered the wheel to hard starboard and the starboard engine to full astern,’ Cazalet reported. With the river getting narrower, the cruiser made a dramatic turn, narrowly missing the north bank, and headed down river.

  Commander Richard Hare, who accompanied Madden as an officer on the staff of the Commander-in-Chief, Far East Station, was called to the bridge. His specialisation early in his career was navigation and he took over as navigator with the help of Sudbury. The British pilot had been knocked unconscious but recovered. The remaining Chinese pilot fled the bridge and was somewhere in hiding.

  ‘It was a crisis all right,’ said Hare.

  The captain had stopped the ship in mid-river and turned her before giving up. I had a wry thought that, while the ambitious G and T chaps were useless, it was the unambitious navigator who was required to get out of the mess. The bridge was swimming in blood and broken glass. Three bodies, including the Chinese pilot, had been pulled to one side. The captain and the ship’s navigator were below, badly wounded.

  Over 100 miles of the river to Shanghai lay ahead with five shore batteries to pass. The accelerator still worked. It was a navigator’s dream situation. Luckily for me, crouching behind the bridge, was a British civilian. The Lord knows how he got there, but he had some knowledge of the river and once or twice emerged to say he thought we would be coming to a crossing. These were the dangers, of course, and it helped to be warned. So it was really too easy for me, and it was John Hodges [Commander and executive officer] who had the problems. Every shore battery caused casualties.7

  Marine John Parker, who helped to man one of the 4in guns, said: ‘When the ship turned round the other crews weren’t closed up so we had to get quickly through from the starboard 4in guns to man the port ones. It was pretty tricky underfoot as, with the ship turning, all the shell cases were rolling across the deck. I remember at one stage we ran out of high explosive ammunition so we loaded starburst shells and fired them – the Chinese must have wondered what the heck was going on as this harmless fireworks display erupted over their heads.’8

  Royal Marines Bandmaster Fred Harwood was helping with first aid and went to the sick bay, where he was told that men were below fighting a fire and there might be some wounded. ‘Thick smoke was coming out of the hatch,’ he recalled.

  I did not know what I would find down there but everyone seemed to be watching me so down I went. It was the lower steering position. What a mess. Men fighting the fire by secondary lighting, hardly able to see very much. One thing I did see was a young lad on the wheel conning the ship and listening to orders on the voice pipe, surrounded by men putting out the fire. He was brave. What I did not realise at the time was that the main control of the rudder had gone, and that all of us were in his hands. When you think that we were in a river which was getting narrower and all of us were relying on him. One young lad. It is very hard to describe that scene.9

  Lieutenant Commander Tommy Catlow, who was supervising damage control teams, recalled: ‘We were in a real mess. There had been many fires, including one in the paint locker. Paint burns well but it was floodable, so with some misgivings because I heard that our Chinese mess boys might be down there, I flooded it. I’m glad to say that the Chinese had gone somewhere else.’10

  London came under withering fire again after turning round, worse than that experienced on the passage up river. Five batteries opened up, three of which had not fired when the ship went up river. The cruiser took more hits and casualties mounted. But at 1340 the firing from the north bank stopped.

  Bandmaster Harwood was in the sick bay when he heard ‘music to all our ears – the order, “Fall out from action stations”. We could now at least try in a small way to make our injured more comfortable. We had ratings lining up outside the sick bay only to be told, “Go away. We will pipe you when we want you”. Shrapnel did not count as wounded that day. One young lad in there had his buttock shot away. This we packed with gauze, and then it was plastered but we knew he could not live as gangrene had set in.’ Later Harwood promised him ‘my tot of neat rum when he came back on board and he gave me a lovely smile’. The rating said he knew he was going to die.11

  Over three hours London had been under heavy fire for a total of 48 minutes. In return, she fired 155 8in shells and 449 4in shells, plus 2,625 other rounds. Her 4in gun crews and supply parties suffered 38 per cent casualties. Sixteen men, including the Chinese pilot, were killed or fatally injured. A total of fifty-four were wounded, fourteen of them seriously. Black Swan, which also turned back, received seven shell hits, wounding seven men, one of them seriously. Two of the shells hit the fuel tank but failed to ignite it. The ship could have blown up. Captain Cazalet paid tribute to his crew: ‘The bearing and conduct of the ship’s company, a large proportion of whom are very young and were experiencing action for the first time, was beyond praise.’

  As London approached Shanghai later that day Bandmaster Harwood told his band to go on deck and play some rousing marches. One of the tunes chosen was Post Horn Gallop ‘to let all the people know that although we were battered we were still winning’. The cruiser arrived at Holt’s Wharf with her dead and wounded, peppered with shell holes and with fires still smouldering. The following morning a US Navy landing craft came alongside and took off the wounded for treatment aboard the hospital ship Repose.

  Vice Admiral Madden’s inquest verdict:

  In the event the fire encountered was heavy, determined and effective, additional batteries to those previously located having been manned or alerted. It was soon clear that HMS London was suffering heavy damage and that many further casualties would inevitably occur before reaching HMS Amethyst; moreover both ships would suffer similarly on the down-river passage. I therefore authorised the commanding officer, HMS London to turn back and ordered HM ships Black Swan and London to proceed to Shanghai, where they arrived about 1845.

  It was now clear that diplomatic action afforded the only reasonable means of extricating HMS Amethyst…12

  One of the Foreign Office officials monitoring events on the Yangtze was none other than Guy Burgess, who would later be unmasked as a Soviet spy. He was unhappy that the British embassy in Nanking blamed the Communists for shelling London when an early report had suggested that the Nationalists were also guilty. Burgess warned that Britain could be accused of distorting the news and he wanted a more balanced approach. Perhaps it was an early sign of his true allegiance. The report blaming the Nationalists proved to be untrue.13

  6

  The RAF Flies In

  ON THE MORNING OF 21
April, the remaining crew of Amethyst were waiting anxiously for London’s arrival. In the early hours Vice Admiral Madden had sent a signal saying that London would be heading up river to help the frigate and expected to arrive at about 1100. The crew were heartened by the news. Amethyst later raised steam and moved to the centre of the river to await the cruiser’s arrival. When London failed to appear the frigate returned to her previous anchorage. The sound of heavy shelling in the distance prompted fears that the rescue attempt might be in trouble, and a message later confirmed that indeed it had been aborted. The morale of Amethyst’s crew was ‘somewhat shaken … the seriousness of the situation was now brought home to them’.1

  During the afternoon Weston told Gunner Monaghan to go the south bank and ask the Nationalists for medical supplies and a doctor. The Nationalists must have been puzzled. Monaghan had been on Rose Island the previous evening asking for help and when assistance was offered – three times – Weston rejected it.2

  The surviving whaler had broken free during the ship’s night passage and only Carley floats were left to make trips. The resourceful Monaghan managed to hire a sampan that was near the ship. ‘I said, “Oh, I’m not going in a bloody Carley float when I’ve got a sampan – they’re much safer”. And so I waved him over. We had tons of Chinese money – Hett had gone down to the safe to get the backsheesh. You get nothing from them without the backsheesh. I got the money, waved it to him and he came over. I pointed to the shore.’ Monaghan made contact with the Nationalists, and two Chinese doctors with medical supplies came on board during the afternoon, ‘giving valuable assistance’. The Nationalists also agreed to provide sampans after dark to evacuate the remaining wounded, with the aim of getting them to the railway station at Chingkiang so that they could travel on for hospital treatment. Later that afternoon Monaghan made another sampan trip ashore to finalise arrangements for the evacuation. As he returned to the ship, ‘lo and behold, a bloody Sunderland arrives from above’.3

  The headquarters of the Royal Air Force in Hong Kong had been alerted to Amethyst’s plight shortly after the frigate ran aground on Rose Island, and 88 Squadron at Kai Tak was put on standby. All aircraft were made serviceable and their crews placed in readiness. At 2245 on 20 April, Kai Tak’s commanding officer, Group Captain John Jefferson, was told that the navy had asked for a Sunderland flying boat to drop supplies to the sailors who were trying to make their way to Shanghai. If conditions were favourable the plane should then try to land alongside the frigate so that a navy doctor could go on board with medical supplies. Flight Lieutenant Ken Letford, a wartime bomber pilot who had won the Distinguished Service Order and Bar and the Distinguished Flying Cross, was chosen as the Sunderland’s pilot. Two soldiers from the Royal Army Service Corps with experience of parachute drops were quickly recruited. And the RAF decided to send one of its doctors, Flight Lieutenant Michael Fearnley. Unusually, Kai Tak’s commanding officer decided to make the trip as well. Early the next day, the Sunderland took off and headed for Amethyst, but on the way Letford received a priority signal from London ordering him not to approach the ship ‘due to gunfire’ and telling him to land at Shanghai. At that stage Vice Admiral Madden had decided that London and Black Swan would attempt a rescue – and perhaps it would not be necessary to involve the RAF.

  The Sunderland arrived at Lunghwa airport and was met by the assistant air attaché in Shanghai, Squadron Leader Peter Howard-Williams, who had flown a Spitfire during the Battle of Britain. Howard-Williams, Jefferson and Letford then went to the office of the assistant naval attaché, Commander John Pringle, who stressed the need to get medical supplies and a doctor to Amethyst, which had run out of morphine. Later Madden made contact. He had changed his mind. Because of the failure of his rescue attempt he now wanted the Sunderland to try to reach the ship.4

  One plan favoured by Howard-Williams was to land the plane in a creek near Amethyst, transfer the doctors and medical supplies, and take the seriously wounded back to Shanghai. The Sunderland would remain in the creek during the night and fly off at dawn. It would not be an easy task but Letford was willing to try. According to Howard-Williams, Group Captain Jefferson, the senior officer, vetoed the idea. ‘There was a risk involved but a justifiable and calculated risk, with so much at stake,’ Howard-Williams reflected. ‘I have always felt that we let down our friends in the navy on this occasion for want of a little more imagination and dash.’ The plan given approval was to land the flying boat on the Yangtze near Amethyst. Oddly, Jefferson, in his report on the mission, said the intention was to land in the creek, but in the event no attempt was made to do this.5

  The Sunderland took off from Shanghai and soon found the ship. The plane made one low approach. There was no hostile action. Letford landed on the Yangtze and taxied towards the frigate. The engines were stopped and the plane’s anchor was dropped out. It was at this point that Gunner Monaghan in his hired sampan decided to make contact.

  I said to the Chinese, ‘That way – or else’. I had no money left and I got my revolver out. He took me alongside the Sunderland, the door was opened and Flight Lieutenant Fearnley was there. He jumped into the sampan and said you had better brief them so they can tell them in London what’s happening. So I jumped aboard the Sunderland and then they opened fire. The Chinese sampan man took off immediately like a shot rabbit and left me aboard the Sunderland.’ [Monaghan referred to a sampan man but according to one of the plane’s crew, Gerry Moreby, the boat was being handled by ‘terrified Chinese women’.]6

  Jefferson reported: ‘As the artillery fire was accurate and heavy and as the aircraft was in full view of at least one battery, an immediate takeoff was necessary if the aircraft was to avoid similar rough handling to that experienced by the naval vessels.’

  Engines were started but the anchor could not be pulled up. ‘It was stuck fast in the river bed,’ said Gerard Devany, the plane’s gunner.

  I took one look round and if I had not been so scared it would have been funny. The co-pilot had attacked the split pin that holds the nut on the bolt, which in turn anchors the aircraft end of the anchor chain to the floor. He had chewed the head off with pliers. You really couldn’t bugger it up any worse.

  As I snatched the pliers out of the co-pilot’s hands I saw the wireless operator frantically trying to hacksaw through the anchor chain. Fat chance, I thought. The noise of cannon fire was deafening and my hands were shaking. I looked up at Group Captain Jefferson, who was bending over me and looking at the messed-up split pin. May I tell you I was very, very impressed with what I saw. He looked at me, the noise was ear-splitting, but he was as cool and collected as it is possible to be.

  I shouted at him at the top of my voice, ‘I want a hammer and a screwdriver’. He in turn passed that on to the flight deck and down came a toolbox pronto. I had been an aircraft fitter before volunteering for aircrew. I had met the obstinate split pin situation many times. After straightening the tail end of the split pin, I tapped it through the bolt enough for the chewed up head end to stick out past the nut. This enabled me to get a grip on the split-pin head and with pliers I eased it out. The chain was free now and by letting it unwind through the winch it soon found its way to the river bottom. We were ready for take-off.7

  The plane had a remarkable take-off. Because it was flying down wind and the tide was a factor, it took nearly three miles to get airborne. The return to Shanghai was uneventful, and that evening Jefferson, Howard-Williams and Letford went on board London to report to Vice Admiral Madden, who was ‘most appreciative of what we had done’. Jefferson noted: ‘I gathered that the transfer of the medical officer and medical supplies to Amethyst had raised everyone’s spirits as Amethyst had almost given up at that stage.’

  Fearnley managed to reach Amethyst in the zig-zagging sampan with a satchel of medical supplies, including much-needed morphine. But he experienced the same difficulty as Monaghan in persuading the Chinese to follow directions. They were panicking because of the gunfire. At
one point Fearnley stood up and there was a struggle, with the sampan in danger of capsizing. Monaghan had dropped his gun in the sampan and the doctor grabbed it. Fearnley gestured towards the ship and they eventually reached her. Later he discovered the gun was not loaded. As he boarded Amethyst six artillery rounds were fired at the ship but they did not result in any casualties or damage. The frigate moved a short distance to another anchorage. The doctor did ‘great work’ on the remaining wounded, most of whom were landed by sampan that night with the help of Nationalist soldiers. The wounded, including the captain, Skinner, and Berger, were taken to Chingkiang railway station where they boarded the last train to Shanghai.8

  Weston reported: ‘The captain had been very seriously injured but though I saw him on the evening he left, I did not realise he was dying. Although he was in great pain and at one period without morphia, he continued to concern himself during his periods of consciousness with the fate of his ship. Lieutenant Berger had done valuable work on the upper deck and the bridge during the first 24 hours after the beginning of the action. Subsequently he succumbed to his wounds and could not stand.’

  When the Sunderland arrived back in Shanghai, Gunner Monaghan was taken to see Vice Admiral Madden on board London. ‘I had had no sleep for 36 hours and I was a bit bloody shattered,’ said Monaghan. ‘Admiral Madden gave me a large pink gin and said, “I want the story and you’re the only one who can give it to me”. So I told him. The admiral said, “We’re having a conference now. You’re going into my cabin and sleeping in my bed. You’ll most probably be flying back tomorrow. We’ll brief you at breakfast”. I lay on his bed and I was out like a light.’9