‘Their bird’
Tridenti stimulabimus hostem – ‘With trident, stimulate the enemy’
—Motto, HMS XE-4 ‘Exciter’
Mick Magennis’s eyes grew large inside his round diving face mask. Jesus fucking Christ! his mind screamed, his left hand dropping down to his ankle where a large diver’s knife was lashed to his leg. His breathing had increased dramatically and his hands were shaking. But he had not fallen prey to ‘Oxygen Pete’, the mythical monster that hunted divers. Rather he had succumbed to a very old, and very real, human fear. Swimming towards him was a large grey-coloured shark, its head moving from side to side as its tail propelled it silently through the water. The shark’s two dead black eyes were looking straight into Mick’s. Magennis’s hand tightened around the knife’s handle as he prepared to defend himself. Suddenly, with a swish of its large tail, the shark changed direction and cruised away.
Magennis felt very exposed, perched atop Lieutenant Terry-Lloyd’s XE-5, the hatch to the boat’s W&D compartment still wide open. The submarine, not Magennis’s usual ride, was hovering in the shallow tropical waters off Trinidad in the Caribbean while the divers practised the new technique of attacking enemy ships with limpet mines. It had proved hard work, with the sea choppy and the undercurrents strong. They were using the Bonaventure as the target vessel, and her large keel loomed above Magennis’s head.1
Magennis couldn’t concentrate. He kept turning his head from side to side; conscious that somewhere out there was a predator. He felt very exposed and very frightened. This was an entirely different ball game from the cold but safe waters of Scotland. In fact, he was more scared than at any time since he had joined the midget submarine flotilla. Dealing with enemy warships was one thing, but tangling with potentially hostile wildlife was quite another. Something flashed in the corner of his visor – Magennis turned his head quickly. It was back. And it had company. Some distance beyond the shark, at the limit of his vision where the water grew dark and indistinct, Magennis could make out another cruising along in almost stately fashion. Holy Mary! Magennis thought. He seriously considered getting back into the W&D, closing the hatch and flooding down. But 14th Submarine Flotilla had stopped at Trinidad for a reason – so that the XEs and their crews, particularly the divers, could be tested in tropical waters, regardless of the local fauna.2 As the first shark cruised by, Magennis realised that actually it wasn’t all that big, certainly no maneater. In fact, it appeared to be losing interest in the strange black-clad man. Summoning up his courage, Magennis took his hand off the haft of his knife and made a conscious effort to get on with his job. He moved to the limpet mine carrier and pulled out the first of the six 200lb mines stowed inside. But his eyes still flicked nervously backwards and forwards.
*
On 21 February 1945 HMS Bonaventure had weighed anchor and departed from Port Bannatyne, Scotland, bound for points west. Trials and working up had been completed by New Year’s Day and the first six XE-craft hoisted inboard.3 The journey out to the Pacific theatre would encompass several stops and last eight weeks. The XE-men were buoyed up with dreams of plenty of targets; the harbours in the islands occupied by the Japanese were understood to be much less heavily defended than those of German-occupied Europe.4
When the Bonaventure set out, the Pacific War was at its height. General Douglas MacArthur had fulfilled his much-vaunted promise made to the Philippine people in 1942 when he had declared, ‘I shall return’. On 9 January 1945 his forces had stormed ashore at Lingayen Gulf on the island of Luzon. By 3 February they were at the gates of Manila. Two days before the Bonaventure sailed, American forces had landed on the first piece of sovereign Japanese territory to be reached – the black volcanic island of Iwo Jima. A terrible and murderous battle had ensued.
For the XE-men, the voyage out was a pleasure cruise in comparison to the months of intensive training that they had endured in Scotland. Morale was sky-high. The men were full of enthusiasm for the important role they hoped to play in destroying the huge fleet of merchant ships taking ammunition and food to the Japanese forces on the islands and mainland of Asia and unloading in relatively lightly defended harbours. The battle cry of 14th Flotilla was ‘Six a night!’5 – the number of vessels they hoped to sink or immobilise. They had no idea of the political storm that they were sailing into.
Six XE-craft had been loaded aboard Bonaventure, with four placed inside a large ‘house’ that had been built over the vessel’s after well deck to shield the top-secret weapons from prying eyes. Two more XEs had been placed in the ship’s hold. Along with the submarines came sixteen Mark XX side cargoes packed with high explosives and their complex firing mechanisms. Tons of stores had been packed into every conceivable space, the entire ship almost bursting at the seams.6 Every clock and firing mechanism was carefully tested before being stowed in a specially sealed compartment.7
In total, the Bonaventure sailed for the Far East with 92 officers and 540 men aboard. She joined a fast convoy off Liverpool, sailing at top speed through an area where German U-boats were still hunting, before joining more ships in the Bristol Channel. Thirty-six merchant ships with escorts then charged out into the Atlantic.8
At 3.00am on 25 February the Bonaventure received the signal to part company from the convoy and proceed independently to Porta Delgada in the Azores for fuel. By 4.00 the next afternoon the Bonaventure was on her way again, heading southwest at 15 knots, rolling heavily in strong trade winds and zigzagging to avoid U-boats.9
*
Tich Fraser was soon feeling guilty. While all around him the crew of the overcrowded Bonaventure worked hard, he and his fellow XE-men had nothing much to do. As the ship sailed into warmer climes after the Azores, the pleasure cruise atmosphere only intensified. XE-men could be seen lounging around on deck dressed only in shorts, working on their suntans. One day, when Fraser was leaning on the rail looking out to sea and ruminating upon the enforced idleness, Pat Westmacott, who was lying flat on the deck sunbathing, an unread newspaper over his face, stirred to life.
‘Not to worry, Tich,’ murmured Westmacott from beneath his newspaper. ‘Our turn will come.’10 And he was perfectly right. While the Bonaventure’s crew bustled about, the whole ship a hive of productive activity, they were not expected to go to war. The XE-men, on the other hand, could only look forward to hair-raising missions against a brutal enemy. The voyage west was the calm before the storm.
*
‘Strong smell of dusky maiden with flowers in her hair,’ yelled out the starboard lookout one evening as the Bonaventure entered the Caribbean Sea. The officer of the watch was about to strongly rebuke him when everyone’s nostrils were assailed by a rich scent. It was the smell of tropical landfall somewhere ahead in the darkness.
‘Thank you,’ replied the officer of the watch, before the signal ‘stop’ was rung down to the engine room.
‘Listen for breakers,’ was the next order issued.
Captain Fell was already on the bridge and the navigating officer joined him. But it was a false alarm; they were still many miles from the nearest land.11 The engines were restarted, a fix taken off the stars and a new route plotted towards Trinidad, the southernmost island in the Caribbean and less than seven miles off the northeast coast of Venezuela.
The Bonaventure arrived off Trinidad on 6 March 1945, anchoring twelve miles offshore in the Gulf of Paria.12 All contact with the shore was strictly forbidden and to make sure that this was enforced, a pair of armed navy motor launches maintained a constant patrol around the perimeter of the 14th Submarine Flotilla’s exercise area.13 The ship’s movements and plans remained top-secret, so Captain Fell could not risk allowing the crew or the XE-men ashore to fraternise with the locals. Tich Fraser described the situation, which was encountered several times during the voyage to the Pacific, as like being inside a train carriage stopped just outside the station. People on the platform could be seen and waved to but no contact was possible.14
Word reached 14th Submarine Flotilla shortly after arrival in Trinidad of a terrible tragedy back at HMS Varbel II. The six boats of the Flotilla’s second division, numbered XE-7 to XE-12, were busily working up preparatory to joining Tiny Fell and the rest of the flotilla aboard the Bonaventure. It was intended that the remaining six XE-craft would be sent to the Far East in three groups of two, stowed aboard American Liberty ships.
On 6 March XE-11, under the command of South African Lieutenant Aubrey Staples, with Sub-Lieutenant Bill Morrison as first lieutenant, was exercising with an ERA and two junior ratings from her passage crew, the idea being for the latter pair to gain more experience. But, in a disastrous replay of the collision between Max Shean’s XE-4 and an LST, Staples’s boat was struck by a warship when it strayed out of its assigned exercise area.
The XE-11 hit the bottom of Loch Striven at 180 feet. She was partially flooded and without power. The crew donned escape gear and waited until the submarine had completely filled with water and the pressure on the hatches was equalised. Then they tried to swim to the surface. Staples, Able Seaman Carroll and Stoker Higgins died.15
*
Aboard the Bonaventure, Lieutenant Terry-Lloyd’s XE-5 and Bruce Enzer’s XE-6 were hoisted out into the choppy Caribbean Sea so that the crews from all of the boats could conduct tropical trials. But the sea state, with constant swells and a running tide, made the training difficult. Neither XE-craft could safely lie alongside the Bonaventure. For the divers, practising placing limpet mines proved arduous and hazardous.16 But one thing was discovered – the limpets lived up to their names. Placed on the Bonaventure’s bottom at the start of the exercise, they were all still firmly in place four days later.
The XE-5 and XE-6 each completed prolonged dives under hot-weather conditions, remaining submerged for 23 hours and seventeen hours respectively.17 It was a taste of the conditions the crews could expect when they did it for real against the Japanese.
One afternoon the crew and the XE-men were finally permitted to go ashore, to a small, palm-fringed and uninhabited island controlled by the US Navy. After being cooped up aboard the ship for weeks, on a vessel totally lacking in exercise or entertainment facilities, being able to swim in the ocean, play football on the beach, stroll through the scrub or just sit and read a book was idyllic. Some men gathered coconuts to take back to the ship.18 The American canteens and clubs were opened to the Bonaventure’s crew and passengers and were placed out of bounds to US personnel. Every crewman managed at least two hours ashore.19
Captain Fell received two important visitors while lying off Trinidad. Commodore Stewart, Senior British Naval Officer Trinidad, and Commodore Baughman, US Navy, spent a happy afternoon clambering in and out of Pat Westmacott’s XE-2, which was uncrated on the Bonaventure’s deck for this purpose. Westmacott and his crew fielded questions expertly while Fell and his second-in-command Commander Derek Graham hovered in the background like anxious parents. Then, standing by the ship’s rail, the dignitaries watched a diving demonstration by Bruce Enzer’s XE-6 into the choppy waters.20 The top brass was suitably impressed and two more converts were added to 14th Flotilla’s growing list of fans.
*
The Bonaventure passed through the Panama Canal on 19 March – ‘a wonderful sight, it puts the Suez into the shade,’ noted Magennis – and spent the night alongside a jetty at Balboa.21 Fell went ashore for orders and ended up at a party in Old Panama City, eventually making it back to his ship at 5.00am.22 Sailing a couple of hours later, the Bonaventure arrived at San Diego, home to a massive American naval base and a major hub of defence activity, on the 28th. But again, because of security precautions, Fell forbade shore leave. The Bonaventure was tied up in San Diego for two days while certain stores and a consignment of top-secret intelligence material were embarked, and word soon spread in southern California that a British ship was in residence.23 Invitations from British stars in Hollywood flooded the Bonaventure’s wardroom, asking the crew to take the train 120 miles north to Los Angeles for parties and dinners in their honour. But the only reply that Fell and his officers could give was to tender their regrets.24 As Fell noted drily, ‘hearts were nearly broken.’25
Less formal invitations arrived daily from the main office of the Mattheson Shipping Line, located directly opposite the Bonaventure’s berth. The American office girls opened their windows and chatted with the frustrated British sailors. They scrawled messages to the crew on the office windows using their red lipstick, asking the British sailors to meet them at such-and-such a place at such-and-such a time.26 For the single men among the crew, for most of whom this was their first experience of America, it was a torture that continued until the Bonaventure sailed. Morale plummeted, and Max Shean was reminded of Admiral Nelson’s dictum: ‘Harbours rot good ships and good men.’27
On 31 March the Bonaventure sailed up the West Coast past Los Angeles and then set a direct course for Hawaii. Heavy weather for two days threatened to sweep the false house that concealed four of the XEs into the sea, but it somehow held.28
Pearl Harbor was a different matter entirely from the previous ports of call. The Bonaventure had entered a secure naval base and Fell finally granted shore leave. The locals were friendly and the crew and the XE-men were sent to a US Navy rest camp for two days R&R at Scotland Bay on the other side of Oahu.29 There were girls to chat up, photo opportunities under swaying palms and homemade hooch to imbibe.30
America was the land of plenty; a far cry from the austere world of cold Britain with its rationing, blackouts and bombsites, and this was graphically illustrated for the British sailors when they visited the service canteen at Pearl Harbor. ‘It was like Christmas again,’ recalled Shean. All kinds of high-quality articles were available at very low prices. None of the Britons had seen such plenty for five years.31
While the XE-men rested, their redoubtable commanding officer was summoned to a meeting with Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz’s staff at Honolulu. Sixty-year-old Nimitz was commander-in-chief of one of the three operational areas created by the British and American Joint Chiefs of Staff in order to coordinate operations against the Japanese. Nimitz’s fiefdom, Pacific Ocean Areas, encompassed, as the name suggested, most of the Pacific Ocean and island groups. The powerful US Seventh Fleet and its attached Marine Corps divisions were the main offensive weapons available to Nimitz, and his efforts were directed towards mainland Japan in concert with Operation Starvation, the US Army Air Force’s hugely successful strategic bombing campaign against Japanese cities.
General MacArthur commanded South West Pacific Area, encompassing the Philippines, Borneo, the Netherlands East Indies (excluding Sumatra), East Timor, Australia, Papua New Guinea and the western part of the British Solomon Islands. Lord Mountbatten, Supreme Allied Commander South East Asia, controlled the third area, encompassing all operations in India, Burma, Ceylon, Malaya, Sumatra, Thailand and French Indochina. Though it appeared an equal three-way division, in reality the two American commands dominated the relationship.
The XE-craft of 14th Submarine Flotilla had originally been destined for Nimitz’s theatre, but there was a problem. Captain Fell’s visit to Nimitz’s staff at Pearl Harbor was a disaster.
The Seventh Fleet Headquarters was in the process of transferring forward to Guam, and Fell found the Americans direct and to the point. Fell hadn’t counted on Nimitz’s antipathy to the little XE-craft submarines, born out of unfamiliarity with the technology and little idea of their operational value, an attitude that had started with Admiral Ernest J. King, head of the US Navy, after he had viewed the very first X-craft in 1942.
After Fell had pleaded his case to Nimitz’s representatives, the Americans told him that his XE-craft appeared to be similar to those used by the Japanese, and basically no better than suicide boats. Fell, his face flushed with anger, held his tongue. The Americans added that XE-craft were too dangerous for their crews and, to cap it all, ‘inappropriate’ weapons for a civilised nation like Great Britain to use.32 When Fell was eventually permitted to speak he vigorously defended his little flotilla and its equipment, pointing out the X-craft’s success in Norway against the Tirpitz and the Bergen targets.
‘Would that be the operation where half of your men were killed and the rest were taken prisoner?’ asked one American officer quizzically.
‘Well, that’s a slight exaggeration, sir,’ muttered Fell, but before he could continue the senior American officer cut him off.
‘No, I’m sorry Captain. We’re going to have to carefully consider what to do with your flotilla. We’ll not be responsible for throwing away lives needlessly at this point in the war on operations that can be more economically completed by our own aircraft or surface warships.’ The American paused. ‘It just “wouldn’t be cricket”, isn’t that how you guys put it? Admiral Nimitz has already discussed this matter with your Admiral Fraser.’33 Admiral Sir Bruce Fraser had recently been appointed to command Churchill’s attempt to shoehorn a British naval presence into the vast assemblage of American warships and marines taking on the Japanese in the North Pacific. Christened the ‘British Pacific Fleet’, it had already ruffled Mountbatten’s feathers, as the First Sea Lord, Admiral Sir Andrew Cunningham, no friend of Mountbatten’s, had diverted many of the aircraft carriers needed for British operations in southeast Asia to Fraser’s new show force instead of to Eastern Fleet. The British Pacific Fleet would be serving under American command, in an American theatre and pursuing primarily American strategic goals. To many, it seemed to indicate just how far Britain’s Asian star had fallen in the three years since the surrender of Singapore.
‘Take your ship to the Ellice Islands, Captain,’ The American said to Fell. ‘We will send word of Admiral Nimitz’s decision.’34
Fell was dismissed. He was crushed. Months of hard work were now threatened by what appeared to be American intransigence and ignorance. Though the Americans had agreed at the Quebec Conference to send the 14th Flotilla to the Pacific, now that they had actually arrived they were not to be permitted to assist Mountbatten. The Americans had a poor opinion of X-craft technology and seemed determined to shelve the whole flotilla for the duration. How could Fell face his men and tell them this news? Morale would be destroyed when they realised that they had been judged surplus to requirements.
Though no senior American naval officer had said it out loud, it was suspected, rightly as it turned out, that the Americans didn’t want the British muscling in on ‘their bird’. The defeat of Japan was to be an American victory. It was also later suspected by members of 14th Flotilla that the Americans were more than a little irked to discover that the British had an ingenious weapon that they didn’t themselves possess.35
But the one thing Admiral Nimitz and his staff didn’t know about William Fell (whereas the men who served under him knew it only too well) was that he was not the type to take a beating lying down. In the car on the way back to the Bonaventure’s berth, Fell had already determined that, if Nimitz decided not to use his unit, someone would give him a mission worthy of his flotilla’s talents and that he would not rest until he had secured it. He would, if necessary, hawk his wares around the three Far Eastern commands like a travelling salesman until he secured a customer.
On 11 April the Bonaventure departed from Pearl Harbor. The tension felt by Fell and his men was slightly relieved when they crossed the Equator on the 16th. A ‘crossing of the line’ ceremony was laid on. A canvas swimming pool was rigged up on deck amidships. Captain Fell was appointed King Neptune, with other officers as Queen Amphitrite, Clerk of the Court, Barber, Physician and attendant Bears.36 Anyone unable to produce a certificate proving that he had already been initiated into the Comradeship of the Deep was summoned before King Neptune, tried, found guilty, shaved, forced to eat a soap pill and finally given a good ducking by the Bears. Resistance was futile. One man, however, managed to fight the Bears off. Ken Briggs, the big, physically powerful Aussie diver on XE-4, held the Bears at bay for an impressive five minutes before they finally got a soap pill into him.37
*
Funafuti in the Ellice Islands consisted of a large lagoon around which were dotted 29 tropical islets. With its white beaches, coconut palms, and thin patches of scrubland standing just a few feet above sea level around the azure lagoon, this tropical paradise had become an unlikely way station for Allied ships heading for the war zone. The Bonaventure chugged into the huge lagoon on 18 April. If 14th Submarine Flotilla was going to become operational its next destination would be Manus in the Admiralty Islands north of Japanese-occupied Papua New Guinea. An Allied naval base had been established there in Seeadler Harbour. If the flotilla was not required, then the Bonaventure would be directed to Brisbane in Australia. Fell was instructed to stand by for a coded radio message from Nimitz’s staff in Oahu.
Frustratingly, the first coded message from Pearl Harbor was corrupted and illegible. Fell was forced to wait 24 hours before a repeated signal finally came through. But when the clerk handed him the signal flimsy he cursed loudly after quickly scanning it: 14th Submarine Flotilla was ordered to proceed to Brisbane.38 Nimitz had decided that the British XE-craft were not going to play a part in defeating Japan after all.
The rather intransigent American attitude continued at Funafuti, where the US Navy initially refused to even refuel the Bonaventure. Only with the intercession of Lieutenant-Commander Peter Phipps, commanding the Royal New Zealand Navy’s 25th Minesweeping Flotilla in the Solomons, did the attitude change. Thirty-six-year-old Phipps was one of few foreigners awarded one of America’s highest military honours, the Navy Cross. In 1943, as captain of the HMNZS Moa, Phipps had sunk a Japanese submarine after an incredible battle, securing a Bar to his DSC and the American medal. Phipps’ intervention secured Bonaventure sufficient fuel to reach Brisbane.39 The truculent American attitude was, however, an ominous sign for Fell and his men.
*
Though there was perhaps a trace of sour grapes in the US Navy’s refusal to usefully employ 14th Submarine Flotilla in the North Pacific, there was a strong element of practicality backing up Nimitz’s decision to dispense with their services. The strategic picture had changed dramatically between the Bonaventure leaving Scotland in late February 1945 and finally dropping anchor in Brisbane on 27 April. The Pacific submarine war was undeniably drawing to a close.
In Mountbatten’s SEAC, Allied submarines had started running out of worthwhile targets by January 1945. In October 1944, due to horrific losses caused by Allied submarines and aircraft, the Japanese had abandoned the convoy route from Singapore to Rangoon, Burma. Only strategically vital oil shipments continued from Sumatra to Singapore, Saigon, Formosa and Japan. During the last four months of 1944 the Japanese had lost 187 ships to Allied submarines. That was over 834,500 tons sent to the bottom.40 American submarines were now mostly operating north of Borneo, around the Philippines, Indochina and Japan. The US Eighth Flotilla, based at Fremantle in Australia, sank hardly anything. They were eager to move north to the Philippines and join in the killing.
By April 1945 the Eighth Flotilla had left Australia, replaced by the British 4th Submarine Flotilla, transferred from the Eastern Fleet at Trincomalee in Ceylon. But in the north the number of targets continued to dwindle – in the first three months of 1945 US submarines sank only 60 Japanese ships for 200,200 tons. Japan’s merchant marine had been reduced to a quarter of what it had been in 1941. What was left fearfully hugged the Japanese coastline.
One small chance remained for 14th Flotilla and its midget submarines – the kind of mission that the X-craft were already famous for. The last Japanese capital ships still afloat consisted of five battleships and a handful of aircraft carriers hidden in coves in Japan’s Inland Sea. They had little fuel left and were not expected to sortie against the Americans. Before Fell had left the Seventh Fleet’s offices at Pearl Harbor he had pleaded with the staff to use his XEs for what they had been specifically designed to do – to penetrate enemy anchorages and blow up capital ships. He had suggested launching his XEs against the concealed battleships and aircraft carriers in the Japanese Home Islands. It would be a win-win situation for the Americans, for no diversion of their own resources would be necessary – the flotilla of T-class British submarines of 4th Flotilla had already been ordered to Australia and they could tow the XEs to Japan.41 The risk would be entirely British. But when Nimitz’s staff referred somewhat caustically to the Tirpitz operation and labelled the XEs ‘suicide craft’, they were not alone in making this comparison. Most senior American officers considered the XEs to be foolishly dangerous and any operations using them against the remaining Japanese warships in the Inland Sea grossly wasteful of lives when the war was almost over.42
Had the Bonaventure and her cargo arrived in the Far East just a year earlier the Americans would probably have happily employed them against the still-active Japanese fleet, particularly the anchorage at Lingga. The Lingga Roads, a secure anchorage between Lingga Island and Singkep south of Singapore, was where the Japanese kept their southern striking force, close to a reliable source of fuel oil in Sumatra. But Japan’s last really dangerous vessel, the super battleship Yamato, had been sunk by US carrier aircraft on 7 April 1945 while the Bonaventure was still on her way from Hawaii to Brisbane and the rest of the striking force dispersed into hiding.
*
HMS Bonaventure tied up in Brisbane at 3.00am on 27 April. She had steamed an impressive 14,888 miles, but it had begun to look as though it had all been for nothing. Morale among the XE-men was disastrously low: ‘our tails were right down, in black despair’43 was how Max Shean put it.
While the XE-men had been in transit, the Americans had made further gains. On 3 March, MacArthur’s forces had recaptured Manila, the capital of the Philippines. On the night of 9–10 March the USAAF had levelled fifteen square miles of Tokyo and Nimitz’s forces had landed on Okinawa on 1 April. President Roosevelt had died on 12 April, and his successor, Harry S. Truman, pressed his generals and admirals to end the war in the Pacific quickly.
The means of achieving this was taking shape far away in the New Mexico desert. There, in total secrecy, the United States had sunk $2 billion into developing a new kind of bomb, a bomb it was hoped would bring the Japanese swiftly to their knees and bring the boys back home in time for Christmas.