OUR
FIGHT THROUGH ARCTIC SEAS TO RUSSIA
Extracts
from The Second
World War: An Illustrated History of WWII
Volume
X, page 27
As
Chief Steward of the Empire Tide (one
of the few ships to survive - see table at
end) of
the Royal Mail Line, in convoy for Archangel
in 1942 (PQ.17),
Horace Carswell
mixed other excitements with the suddenly
assumed role of surgeon - and gained the
Lloyds War Medal for Bravery at Sea to add
to his D.S.M., M.M. and B.E.M.
…
joined the S.S.Empire
Tide of the Royal Mail Line as Chief
Steward, and learnt that the ship was due to
leave for America to load a general cargo
for Russia.
We
sailed on May 10, 1942 ….. cargo
was taken aboard at an American port, and
the ship then proceeded to Reykjavik in
Iceland. From the Icelandic port we set out
to Archangel …with thirty-seven merchant
ships accompanied by an escort of twelve
cruisers, destroyers and corvettes.
The
season was midsummer by the time we were
over the Arctic Circle steaming on a
nor'-easterly course for the
Barents Sea and daylight had lengthened to
about twenty hours. Three days out from
Reykjavik the first German air-scout came
nosing along…. almost uninterrupted
daylight and clear weather made
reconnaissance easy for the Hun.
…..
the threat from
the Jerries did
not prevent some of us, in Arctic seas for
the first time, from being initiated in the
Order of the Bluenose. The initiation was a
bit different from the ceremony of greeting
King Neptune when crossing the Equator: a
feature was that each new " Bluenose" was
presented with a coloured certificate duly
signed by " Neptunus
Rex, Ruler of the Raging Main" and his
consort "Aurora Borealis, Queen of His
Majesty's Northern Provinces."
Our
convoy altered course and steamed due east
through a sea a-glitter with floe-ice. Not
long afterwards we reached a position near
Bear Island… the zone of greatest danger,
lying within easy range of the German
air-bases and…. the alarm bells were soon
ringing for “Action Stations."
Between
forty and fifty Jerries
came racing in
from all directions …. that
filled the Arctic sky with the thunder of
high-powered engines. It was the Fourth of
July. A ship on the Empire Tide's port
quarter erupted like a volcano and
disappeared …. . Two or three others began
to lose way, then listed and settled deeply
from the impacts of bombs and the deadly
"fish."
Fragments
of ice from the shattered floes spattered
our decks. Warships and merchantmen
combined to fill the sky with the fury of
high-explosives, and the rain of steel made
you thankful for a tin "battle bowler,"
inadequate protection though it was.
For
handling and fighting his ship that day,
Captain Frank Willis Harvey, master of the
Empire Tide, was awarded the D.S.O. …..
Chief Engineer Hughes and Second Engineer
Griffith remained in the engine-room,
ensuring the utmost possible speed under
conditions of great stress. They, too,
earned decorations ….
….
Everyone seemed to have a job on his hand
just then except me. So….I
managed to bounce up …to the isolated
platform to look after him. The
victim …. one of
the few R.N. ratings borne in the Empire
Tide for gunnery duties…. had caught "a
proper fourpennyone"
in the thigh.
….
I managed to hoist this matelot
across my back… and carry him down the
ladders …. and
…. got him
below…
Our
ship had no doctor ….. I decided something
else must be done smartly, or he would soon
be slipping his cables. ….. I summoned the pantryman
and a few others of the First Aid party, and
made ready to do a spot of surgery ….. I was
happily unaware from my amateurish
examination of what the emergency operation
entailed. What knowledge I had of surgery
and medicine was of the elementary order,
but I had confidence in myself - although
unwarranted - and, was not lacking in the
"bedside manner."
"There's
nothing to worry about, son," I assured the
patient. "I'll soon fix you up all right…..
His lurid remarks betokened pain and
resentment when I probed the gaping wound in
his thigh and the ship lurched to the
concussion of a bursting bomb …... I
remarked: -You've picked up a bit of metal
in this leg of yours, that's all. I’ll
winkle it out in two shakes of a cod's tail.
…..
It …. shook me
to find a srnall-calibre
unexploded shell from an Oerlikon
gun embedded in the chap's thigh! The thing
had to be extracted and the wound properly
dressed …. there were no anaesthetics in the
medicine chest and our surgical instruments
were the sort of things you might expect to
find in a carpenter's tool-box…..having dug
the live shell out, I put sixteen stitches
in the wound while the luckless victim
alternately gritted his teeth and bellowed
pungent opinions of the proceedings. I gave
a sigh of relief.
“Like
taking a tooth out," I murmured.
“Here,
son - put this tot of rum down the hatch.
You're the best patient I've had on his
voyage.” It did not seem necessary to add
that he was also the first! And he was not
the last.
That
aerial attack on July 4, 1942, began at 4.30
p.m., and continued for some time with
unabated fury. ….A heavy price was paid with
the lives of British, American and Norwegian
seamen for the delivery of a large
proportion of the vital cargoes. The
sacrifice in our own convoy can be judged by
the fact that only nine merchant ships out
of thirty-seven made the round trip
unscathed.
With
Toes and Fingers Gangrenous
….
Things were bad enough in the Med when your
ship was scuppered,
but if you took to the boats or went
overboard in these icy seas your ordeal was
a sight worse and chance of survival
considerably less.
….
our captain decided to make for temporary
haven at Novava
Zemlya…. which,
if you look at a map, rears up like a
disturbed caterpillar from the north Russian
coast. On the way, we picked up 148
survivors from lifeboats adrift - men
suffering from exposure and frost-bitten
hands and feet. This rescue work provided me
with plenty to do …. a
job occupying twenty-four hours a day
looking after these “orphans of the storm.”
Once
we had gained shelter, radio signals were
made. These brought a plane … from the
mainland, and a Russian lady doctor took
charge of the casualties, and a few of the
severely wounded were flown to Archangel for
hospital treatment. Among these was my
patient, the naval gunner….
Many
of the others were in bad shape, but had to
be left in my care…. some had landed on
another island before being rescued, and had
built fires and toasted their toes. The safe
method in a below zero climate is to rub
snow on partly frozen extremities, and the
result of their mistake was that toes and
fingers became gangrenous and needed drastic
treatment
In
making Moller
Bay, the Empire Tide struck an uncharted
rock…. But the ship was repaired and refloated,
and we set off unescorted …. to
Archangel …. when
the look-out in the crow's-nest reported to
the bridge :
“Object
on the starboard bow, sir!” ….. On closer
inspection they proved to be the foremast
and stern of a sinking ship and three
lifeboats manned by survivors.
Another
"object" …. drew
near the boats ….. a
U-boat. Our captain altered course and
ordered “Full ahead” on the engines, … No
one would have taken a crack at that U-boat
with more zest than Captain Harvey, but all
our ammo had been expended …..
….
the wreck sank slowly, and the U-boat made
off. “We're going to pick those blokes up!"
I heard someone remark. …. no attack was
made. The crew of the torpedoed ship were
got aboard, some of them suffering from
frostbite due to immersion in the icy water
before being hauled into the boats. So I
received more patients for my shipboard
"hospital."
….our
captain decided to make a wide sweep of the
area in case other hapless crews were
adrift, and the search resulted in the
rescue of survivors from two other torpedoed
vessels. From this and other warnings, there
appeared to be small hope of the Empire Tide
making a lone voyage to Archangel in safety.
So we ran back to Moller
Bay where… we found four corvettes and an
equal number of merchant ships that had
arrived after various misadventures. A small
convoy formed, and without further
interference we reached Archangel to deliver
our cargoes.
At
the time, some 2,000 British and Allied
seamen - survivors from aircraft and U-boat
attack - were housed in the Intourist
Club, a huge logwood building surmounted by
the Union Jack and Soviet flag. Our arrival
with munitions and supplies was greeted
cordially by Russian officials, but there
were no wild demonstrations of welcome by
the people. After our ship had made a call
at Molotov, a new port about forty miles
from Archangel, a convoy of twelve ships was
formed for the homeward voyage (QP.14).
Again we had to run the gauntlet of the
Polar route, and were frequently attacked by
hostile aircraft and finally by a U-boat
pack. …..
Extract
from Lloyd's
List and Shipping Gazette, No. 40310