Destroyers in the Atlantic

Auckland Star, Volume LXXII, Issue 211, 6 September 1941, Page 11 (Supplement)

Destroyers in the Atlantic

\ITE were coming in and then, " suddenly, we were going out again. A flip of the wheel, just like that. One minute our ship was one of a small party of destroyers bumping along at a comfortable jog-trot through the greying Atlantic swell, making our way home after a wearying escort assignment; the next minute all the ships had heeled over, increased speed, left behind thin semi-circles of green water flecked with white foam, and we were one of a posse beating it out into the open ocean on business bent. We did not know for what reason we had turned. At first we thought we might have picked up a U-boat, but once we were sure that was not the explanation we gave up thinking about it. What concerned us was the certainty that we were going out again and that we would not get ashore that night, or for many a night to come. Later we learned of the reason for our unexpected alteration of course, and as it was something secret, exciting, and out of our usual, routine, we forgot what we had meant to do ashore. "Eat a good dinner to-day," one of us said, as a kind of final word, "because you'll be on corned beef and spuds before you get back." And so we left thoughts of dances and movies and "big eats" and home behind us and prepared to do some more battling with both sea and enemy. There was, after all, nothing very unusual about our good ship's volte-face. It had happened before. It will happen again. That kind of happening is "just one of those things" for men of the destroyers, the Tittle ships that do a big job in the biggest battle of all—the Battle of the Atlantic.

Maid of All Work Designed originally as the answer to small torpedo boats introduced in most navies toward the end of last century, the torpedo boat destroyer is now the "maid of all work" of the navy. Destroyers guard the merchant ships, escort the battleships, fight with the big ships, seek out the U-boats, challenge the bombers, enforce the blockade, beard the enemy in his lair, sweep up mines, rescue the shipwrecked. We like to think that the powers-that-be at the Admiralty, studying red-flagged maps and calling upon the small ships, much as police headquarters calls upon its cruising squad cars in moments of urgency, never made a call upon destroyers that was not immediately answered.

Consider the Cossack, one of the beautiful Tribal class destroyers, which sought and trapped the prison ship Altmark, silenced the howitzer battery at Narvik, closed in under the heavy guns of the Bismarck to torpedo that giant among battleships. And meanwhile, throughout the months that separated these incidents, ceaselessly performed all those

A colourful story of the work of the destroyer flotillas guarding the seaways of the Atlantic, this article was written by a former staff writer of the Boston Christian Science Monitor, who is now serving in the r.jyal Navy.

By John Allan May

less publicised but none the less ai duous duties which all destroyers perform and call routine. Mr Winston Churchill rias stated that the continual hours of steaming done by ships of the Royal Navy during the course of this war stand as a record unsurpassed and unlikely to be surpassed. We can well believe Ji - It often feels like that. If those that build the ships and keep them running need a tribute, they can find better than that implicit in the faithful manner their ships stand up to an ordeal by water. There was one occasion I can vouch for when an elderly and battered destroyer was in the company of one of the very latest products of the shipyard at a time an order came through for them both to rush at urgent speed to a point some hundred miles distant. The commander of the new ship signalled his opposite

number in this fashion, "Proceeding on my own at full speed, make your own time." Now there are two ways of making full speed. One is to ring full speed on the telegraphs; the other is to ring full speed on the telegraphs and then call up the chief engineer and urge him to make more steam still. The commander of the elderly ship chose the second course, at the same time making the signal, "Proceeding at full speed on my own, make your own time." And his ship, shuddering a little at the very thought of it, leapt forward and actually began to draw away from its younger companion. They made a good race of it. both vied on time together, and the

elderly destroyer was never the worse for having issued and substantiated the challenge. As far as the power to "take it" goes—and it goes far indeed— destroyers have no rivals, except in the tough seafarers who serve in them. Officers and men may pass weeks, months, even years, serving with little rest and less comfort under the most trying circumstances and come out smiling. They do not enjoy being almost continually at sea in all weathers—the man who says he does is either boasting or else has never been to sea almost continually in all weathers—yet the matelot (which is the term he alwavs uses when talking of himselt) 'is nearly always laughing. It is one of the aspects of naval life which most strike the newcomer. The matelot is also nearly always grumbling—only he calls it "dripping"—but ne somehow manages to do both his laughing and his dripping at one and the same time, or so nearly so that it makes no difference. In a destroyer he does not have much to laugh at, except himself and his friends. But he has not much else to do, there being little time for recreation and less space. Strange to say, it can sometimes be very boring out in the Atlantic. Particularly on convoy work, when

each day finds the same ships in the same places on what might be the same patch of sea for all the ordinary sailor knows, and when days and dates lose their significance and time is divided merely into spells of watch and sleep. This fact, that it is possible to sail for weeks upon the Atlantic battleground without catching scent or sight of the marauder, puzzles many a new-made matelot. But there is "a reason for it. And a verv good reason it is. At the beginning of the war, when the shark ships of the Reich stole in toward the British coasts in large numbers, destroyers, with the help of other small ships, cracked down upon them without mercy, forcing them always further and further out i

into the vastness of the ocean for away from the vulnerable shore lines.

With every British success the main battle area is gradually extended further west, nearer the coast of America. There, German submarines and bombers, based on the French west coast, have been in a better position relative to Britain for fighting this sea war.

U-boats are wary nowadays about attacking a well escorted convoy and shy of venturing near the coast. Bitter experience has told the German Admiralty what every destroyer man who has ever oeen on a sub hunt knows—that tne destroyer has two replies to the U-boat which that marauder, lurking in the dark, cannot adequately answer back.

The tenacious search of the bloodhounds of the sea when the presence of U-boats is suspected, the remorseless crossing and recrossing of tracks in a deceptively quiet and empty sea; the slowing of tne screws when the scent is picked up; the pause, so charged with suspense, while investigations are made; the sudden spurt of speed again; then the mule kick of waters rent by a vast explosion far beneath the surface . . . experience of these things brings appreciation of the real power of the destroyer.

Of course, one does not meet with such experiences as often as one did. But there's always something to do, some other duty to be performed—convoy, battle, bombardment, rescue. And if there does happen to be a quiet period, well, there will as likely as not be practices for the many types of armament a destroyer carries.

It would never do to let the crew's talents get rusty.