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
