"DAD, WELL DONE" Navy Memoirs (3)
by L/S Coxswain Doug Harrison
Chapter THREE. SOUTHERN ENGLAND, THEN SCOTLAND - Part 1
I had the misfortune to break the toe next to my big toe on my left foot. I went to sick bay and someone applied mercurochrome, told me to carry out my usual duties and sent me away. Running, guard duty, anything, I toughed it out and was told many months later by a Scottish doctor it had healed perfectly - and so it had.
[Doug Harrison (left) on duty; “a rifle with no ammunition”?]
We were issued brooms for guard duty in some cases at Northney, sometimes a rifle with no ammunition, and they were expecting a German invasion. Rounds were made every night outside by officers to see if we were alert and we would holler like Hell, “Who goes there? Advance and be recognized.” When you hollered loud enough you woke everyone in camp, so sentry duty was not so lonesome for a few minutes.
There was no training here, and I recall just now we were welcomed to Niobe by Lord Hee Haw (a turncoat) from Germany via the wireless radio. So, as the navy goes, we went back to Niobe on March 21, 1942.
Thence to H.M.S. Quebec barracks in Ayrshire, Scotland on Loch Fyne. We were all in good shape and this was to be one of the more memorable camps, with our first actual work and introduction to landing barges. We trained on ALCs (assault landing crafts) which carried approximately 37 soldiers and a crew of four, i.e., Coxswain, two seamen and stoker. Some carried an officer.
["We trained on ALCs (assault landing crafts)" at Inveraray, Loch Fyne:
Photo credit - Imperial War Museum]
Boy, but was it dark up there amongst the heather and the hills. As well, gambling in any form was not allowed in the navy for fear the losers might steal, but a friendly game of craps with pennies was going on one night when rounds were being made. O/S Bradfield of Simcoe, the winner, couldn’t sweep the pennies under his hat fast enough and was caught and severely punished.
We did much running up on beaches so soldiers could disembark and re-embark, always watching the tide if it was flowing in or going out. You could be easily left high and dry, or broach too, if you weren’t constantly alert. We took long trips at night in close single formation, like ducks closed up close, because all you could see was the florescent waters churned up by propellors of an ALC or LCM (landing craft mechanized) ahead.
ALCs carried soldiers and LCMs carried soldiers or a truck, Bren gun carrier supplies, land mines, gasoline, etc. ALCs were made of 3/16th inch plating, thick enough to stop a .303. LCMs wouldn’t stop a bullet. ALCs sat three rows of soldiers including two outside rows under 3/16th inch cowling, but the center row was completely exposed.
We clambered up scrambling nets and Jacob’s ladders and became very proficient because we learned to just use our hands. We did this training on a liner called the Ettrick, which we will hear more about later on. Her free board was high, i.e., the distance between the water line and hand rails, and we got so it took about three seconds to drop 25 - 30 feet on scrambling nets.
[The hired transport Ettrick, at Inveraray:
Photo credit - link to combined ops.com]
[Part of a memorial, dedicated to those who served in Combined Ops,
at the former site of H.M.S. Quebec, 2 miles south of Inveraray: GH]
Now, at H.M.S. Quebec there were a lot of adventures, therefore many memories. One I will always remember is about getting up in the morning to see the sun shining through the mist onto the purple heather. I made an excursion one day and actually rolled in it - to my delight - even though it was damp.
In our group was a seaman named William Kuntz, pronounced Coontz. Every time at roll call while we were in England or Scotland his named was mispronounced and he used to get really angry. He also liked to go into Inveraray, get drunk, punch out windows and then come back in the morning, his hands all gashed.
On the subject of Kuntz, he was absolutely blind in the dark. O/D Anthony Bouchard and I would take him on each side by the arm and when we spotted a bomb blast door (a wall of bricks to stop a bomb blast from travelling up closes or alleys) we would suddenly pull away from him and let him run headlong into the wall. Then the air would turn blue. “Where are you, you SOBs? I’ll murder you, ya bums,” he would yell. “You can’t murder us if you can’t find us, Willy,” we said. When we had enough laughs we would go back to his side - he would forgive us because he would never get back to base otherwise - but we would get it in the morning.
On H.M.S. Quebec one night, a bunch of us wild Canadians were there along with a lot of Limeys who had since joined in at the wet canteen. Every glass of beer we drank we tossed over our shoulder against the iron radiators so we found it best to have our backs to the wall. On this particular night all the English guy could play on the piano was ‘Elmer’s Tune’ and we soon got sick, sick, sick of it. O/D Linder from Kitchener poured a glass of beer up and down the keyboard and the fight was on. Out went the lights, tables flew, and we sailors sneaked out leaving the Englishmen to fight amongst themselves. What a sorry lot in the morning.
["At any one time up to 15,000 service personnel were billeted
in the area - the impact on the small community of 500 can
only be imagined!": Quote from Combined Ops website]
O/D Kuntz and O/D Bowers were oppos and spent most of their leaves together. One time on leave in London they both ran out of money and although drunk, they contrived to rob a cabby. They planned to induce the cabby out of his cab, have Bowers pinion his arms so Kuntz could hit him with a milk bottle. The time came and they asked the cabby to stop and get out, which he did, under a dim street light. Bowers grabbed his arms but Kuntz, being so drunk, missed with the bottle and just grazed the cabby’s head. The cabby hollered for help and Bowers ran one way, Kuntz another. Bowers got to the Westminster YMCA but Kuntz, being unable to see in the dark, ran into an open ground window grating in the sidewalk where a lady later found him with her torch light and he was put in jail by the police after they arrived on the scene. The police pried information out of Kuntz about his accomplice and Bowers was later taken from his bed at the Y and arrested.
They were brought to trial, and the cabby came in possibly a little over-swathed with bandages on his head. They were, of course, found guilty, but luckily were only fined after an observation of the wound and because they had not stolen any money. They were very lucky - it could have been murder. They were a quiet pair of sailors when they arrived back in camp to raise money for the fine. That was their last episode on leave.
O/D ‘Gash’ Bailey, called Gash because he wanted everyone’s leftovers aka gash in Scotland (pudding is called duff), got in trouble over something and we, all drunked up, went to get him out of cells. A little army Sgt. Major said, “Call out the guard.”
They were brought to trial, and the cabby came in possibly a little over-swathed with bandages on his head. They were, of course, found guilty, but luckily were only fined after an observation of the wound and because they had not stolen any money. They were very lucky - it could have been murder. They were a quiet pair of sailors when they arrived back in camp to raise money for the fine. That was their last episode on leave.
O/D ‘Gash’ Bailey, called Gash because he wanted everyone’s leftovers aka gash in Scotland (pudding is called duff), got in trouble over something and we, all drunked up, went to get him out of cells. A little army Sgt. Major said, “Call out the guard.”
More to follow.
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