and it was I!
Indefinite leave was given me but I was soon recalled to Dunkirk. I reported myself to the captain of M.L.254 who was to become a future V.C. With the help of two deck hands, I prepared our little barque for the escapade - the bridge was covered with shrapnel proofing while four Lewis machine guns were installed on deck. May the 8th saw us lying alongside the motor boat pontoon in the river when a Coastal Motor Boat came alongside. In her, was none other than my pal and learning secretly from him that he was bound for the same ' stadium' as myself, I bade him 'good bye and good luck till we meet in Ostend.'
Imagine the shadows of dusk falling upon a harbour town with a northerly wind and around us was a deathly Lazar-house stillness. It was indeed a calm before the storm. Silently, in single file, the combatants steamed grimly for the arena while a Morse message was sent from boat to boat that nine. Hun destroyers were at large and unfortunately Strombank Buoy had been moved. However, a C.M.B. steamed ahead to mark the position of the entrance into Ostend with a calcium buoy. The foe was awake and prepared. Like the Revenge of long ago, the work of the speedy and wooden M.L. 254 with its crew of two officers, coxswain four deckhands and two engineers was extremely hazardous.
Ten o'clock arrived and with it the rockets which were to be fired as the signal for attack was given in the confidential orders previously posted on the bridge. A Canadian was the second in command of our vessel and he, curiously enough, had in his pocket a tiny black kitten for luck. The moving of Strombank Buoy and the manufactured smoke screen ( a fog to order) set up by monitors and destroyers, caused us to mis-locate our position while we were lost, lost in this "whirlpool of naval warfare". But, as if by the hand of Providence, the fog lifted for a brief space of ten minutes, when we clearly discerbed H.M.S. Vindictive - the entrance of the 'Huns' nest' travelling at 14 knots.
Immediately we dashed ahead under her port quarter hoping that she was in her correct course. In two minutes, we "hard-a-port" and I realized we had entered the narrow channel leading into Ostend. Enemy guns were now discharged towards us at point blank range while we could not make the harbour cowing to the fog. Orders were given me to get on the offside and by this time, then funnels and upper deck structure of the badly mauled Vindictive were being blown away. All of this happened in five minutes, when quickly she "hard-a-port" and left us in full view of the hostile fire. While entering, I noticed one of our ships being shattered by the enemy and on that ship was my pal. The "Ship of Vindication" struck the eastern pier at the terrific of fourteen knots, while with searchlights, flashes of the "flaming onions" it was like broad daylight. After the grand old barque had struck the piles we were still under the post quarter, which fact, together with the back wash of the propellers and the ebb tide running to the eastward, caused the captain and me to think that we were going to drift through a gap in the piers. Directly, we went full speed astern on our starboard engine when, in baking out, a "pom-pom" shell came through our bridge on the starboard side, tore a piece of flesh out of the captain's leg, killed the Canadian officer outright, blew me on top of the binnacle wounding my finger and shoulder and in its dreadful path of destruction sent a Welsh sailor on board to eternity. "For God's sake, coxswain, keep your head" - these were the gallant Colonials last words to me - the best tip in such circumstances. This scene appeared to me "as awful as the last trumps that shall proclaim to mankind the end of existence 2but we bore up bravely. Crash! A terrifying roar, louder than any previous report - it was the blowing out of the Vindictive's cement bottom. As she was swinging across to block the entrance, she was steadily sinking. M.I. 254's task was now to be transformed. At this point we were on the shore side of the slowly disappearing block-ship and I could plainly discern the faces of the agitated huns - manipulating their machine guns a few feet away. "You devils! You can't kill me" I muttered and carried on with the job. Minutes counted now. Luckily on the starboard side of the Vindictive were hanging two lifeboats on the davits, the after falls of both boats had been shattered so that they formed a fender for our launch. Men were desperately jumping now to our deck from the Vindictive. It meant a leap of fifteen feet and some poor unfortunates, misjudging fell into the water. Our launch, only made of 1 1/2 inch wood planking could not withstand the pressure, now applied by the thwarted foe - our hull was hit five times by heavy shells. In addition, we were on fire aft while there were 2.000 gallons No 1 Aero petrol aboard. The gravity of our position is inexpressible. Then we were commanded to sheer off by the last surviving officer of the Vindictive who appeared on that ship's bridge. Full speed ahead on the starboard engine then astern! - but faintly, through the turnout we heard a shout from the forward lifeboat - a swift return to save the badly wounded heroic engineer who had set the fuse. I glanced into the water and lo! I plainly saw men desperately struggling but even seconds could not be lost. We baked out. Water now began to pour into the forecastle and as the vessel took a list one way and then another, the survivors were forced to trim her. Our forms were being lit up by the blazing flames aft while holes were of no avail and escape seemed impossible. "I can't do anything, can I coxswain?"
I glanced round, it was a poor fellow minus a shoulder who had said this and naturally my reply was in the negative. gDo you think we'll get out? They can't kill us, they are trying to drown us now," he added. But the sound of his voice was lost in the tremendous rumble of a reinforced attack from the shore. A smoke screen was set up; nevertheless our opponents could pick us out. A stoker quickly told me that our stern-light was still burning. "Shove your cap over it,! I commanded bluntly. Our aim was to meet some destroyers which were waiting for us five miles off; but we could not find them. So the Vindictive's Lieutenant (who had escaped unscathed and was attending our injured) shouted, "Is the Vindictive's signalman on board?" He was and auspiciously he located the Hag Ship Destroyer H.M.S. Warwick having on board the Commander of the whole operation - Admiral Sir Roger Keyes. We approached her and orders were given us to abandon our little launch as she was utterly unsuitable for towing. At once I yelled, "What about the dead and wounded? We have one man without arm and legs!" Bluejackets tran-shipped them. A time fuse was set on our old vessels, but suddenly I saw two of our crew rush for remnants of the ensign of our faithful launch. They, however, reached the Warwick safely. Notwithstanding, and unhappy episode marred our entry into the Hag-ship. The First lieutenant caused a Lewis gun to explode in his face with fatal results to himself. M.L. 254's task was now completed.
As we walked along the deck of the Warwick into the forecastle, the Admiral said, "Well done, boys!" The severity of the engagement came upon me in a pang when the chaplain asked my home address and told me I was extremely lucky. Doctors were soon attending us. I recall a sight now which even to-day appals me. There, lying on a table in the forecastle, our temporary surgery, was the leading seaman whose upper and lower limbs were missing. How was he lying there? He was still conscious and he requested for his chum, gTake out my false teeth an' wash 'em." "Do you think I'll get my ticket now," he asked, addressing me while lifting the stumps of his left arm. "You'll get it now alright, Lofty," I answered. Our conversation was cut short for, at that moment, a terrific detonation occurred. A scramble followed - every man for himself! We had steamed into a minefield, thus causing the explosion aft. However, the after bulkhead was reported to be holding but a second outburst followed, the vessel taking a slight list to port. Orders to transfer the survivors to H.M.S. Velox were issued at once. The Warwick was braced up to our new ship and we were escorted back to Dunkirk by H.M.S. Trident. At 6 a.m. Dover was reached and then we were taken aboard Lord Tredegar's yacht, "Liberty" which had been lent as a hospital ship.
Fate was our subject and surely my argument was tested in the above accounted adventure, tested on the deck of M.L. 254 which now lies on the bottom of the channel leading into that Belgian seaport. My destiny was to escape - "you devils, you can't kill me".