Siamese Blood Chit
‘Most people think that the crews are a bunch of madmen volunteering for a most dangerous job in a Heath Robinson type of submarine. In reality they are very good small submarines.’
—Lieutenant G.C. Potter, Staff Officer (Intelligence)
Ian Fraser narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun and tried to hold the big Colt .45 pistol on target. He aimed carefully at the figure’s chest and took first pressure on the trigger. The American automatic was heavy and cumbersome in Fraser’s small hand. The sights danced across the figure’s head and chest as Fraser tried to control his breathing. The longer he waited, the heavier the weapon became. He pulled the trigger, the automatic jumping in his hand, its loud report echoing across the sea as the ejected shell case tumbled to the deck with a metallic clatter.
‘Don’t jerk at it like that, sir,’ said the chief petty officer instructing him. ‘Remember what I said. You squeeze it like a lemon, sir.’
Fraser sighed and lowered his aching arm.
‘Try again, sir, and this time remember to breathe out as you squeeze. It’ll help you keep the weapon on the target.’
Fraser was standing only fifteen feet away from the makeshift target, a thick sheet of cardboard that had been cut into the shape of a man’s head and upper torso. The target had been tied to the Bonaventure’s guard rail.1 Behind Fraser was his own crew from the XE-3, as well as the crews of the other three submarines that would take part in Operations Struggle, Sabre and Foil. A trestle table covered with a grey blanket had been set up on the deck beside the group. Several other Colt .45s were neatly arranged on it, alongside small cardboard boxes of shiny brass-cased bullets.
Fraser, sweaty with concentration, raised the weapon again and fired.
‘Bad luck, Tich,’ said Jack Smart as yet another bullet missed the target and whined off into the open sea.
‘I don’t think I could hit a barn door with this damned thing,’ said Fraser irritably. He could never understand why the navy insisted on issuing such large and cumbersome weapons instead of smaller and lighter Webley .38 revolvers.2
The target practice was in aid of the unthinkable, but something that everyone involved in the raids was starting to seriously consider. They were all going deep behind Japanese lines, and the navy had decided, in its wisdom, to make sure that every XE-man had kit that he could use to survive if he was forced to abandon his submarine. No one was under any illusions about their probable fate should they fall into Japanese hands. After what had happened to Lieutenant-Colonel Ivan Lyon’s men on Operation Rimau in 1944, more precautions would be taken this time. It was felt by those in the know that mistakes had been made on Rimau that had contributed to the grim deaths visited upon Lyon’s surviving men who had been taken prisoner. Avoidable mistakes.
*
‘Welcome aboard, Jimmy,’ said Captain Fell, shaking hands vigorously with Rear Admiral James Fife as the American, accompanied by his flag lieutenant and Lieutenant H. Crooms, his communications officer, stepped smartly onto the Bonaventure’s quarterdeck on the morning of 22 July.3 Fell’s subordinate officers stood in a neat line, their navy whites starched, the whole occasion having an air of ceremony about it. History was about to be made.
For the first time in history an American admiral would hoist his flag on a Royal Navy ship.4 Fife had decided to accompany the Bonaventure to Brunei, the starting point for Operations Struggle and Foil. Pat Westmacott and the XE-5 would begin Operation Sabre directly from Subic Bay and would remain aboard HMS Maidstone until departure.
It was a reflection of how Fife felt about 14th Submarine Flotilla that he insisted on being aboard the Bonaventure when the XE-men left on their missions. It was also an indication of how important the cable-cutting missions were to the American high command. Fife brought his entire 80-man staff with him, accommodation and office space having to be found on the already fully manned British ship.
Fife had a surprise for Fell. Behind the scenes the American submariner had been talking up 14th Submarine Flotilla among his own colleagues and a surprise visitor arrived at the quayside. Fifty-five-year-old Vice-Admiral Charles A. Lockwood was ‘COMSUBPAC’ – Commander Submarines Pacific – and was Fife’s immediate superior. Known to his men as ‘Uncle Charlie’, Lockwood had revolutionised the US submarine service, turning it into the hard-hitting, highly aggressive and successful organisation that was defeating Japan. Beloved of those who served under him, Lockwood had a sterling reputation for looking after his submariners. Fife had persuaded Lockwood to come and inspect the little British unit, sure that his superior would find the experience an education.
Captain Fell, anxious to please such an important and influential figure, ordered a demonstration to be laid on in Subic Bay. Admiral Lockwood decided that he wanted to play an active role in the demonstration and get a good feel for an XE-craft, so he would sail with the submarine during the demonstration. Fell was a little unsettled by this turn of events because, casting an eye towards the skies, something was wrong. The day had broken oppressively hot and still, ‘with a most sinister feeling in the air of some impending cataclysm.’5 That cataclysm began to reveal itself shortly after Lockward boarded the Bonaventure when the heavens opened. It rained so hard that it was difficult to breathe, but Lockwood decided to go out with Max Shean regardless and soon disappeared into the downpour aboard the XE-4.
Shean and his operational crew would demonstrate a simulated attack on the Bonaventure. After a run on the surface on the diesel engine, Shean dived the boat quickly, doing what was termed a ‘crash dive’. Lockwood had never been in such a tiny submarine before and he didn’t look entirely comfortable. It was a steep learning curve, and Lockwood watched Shean’s crew carefully, noting their efficient teamwork and easy familiarity with each other. But having a VIP onboard made Shean’s crew nervous, and nervousness in a submarine can lead to accidents.
‘I forgot to shut the engine exhaust and muffler valves till we were well down,’ whispered Ben Kelly, Shean’s first lieutenant, trying not to alert Admiral Lockwood who was sitting close by. Shean winced and nodded, saying nothing. The diesel engine was now full of seawater. As long as they didn’t try to run it, they should be all right, thought Shean. The XE-4 was running smoothly on its electric motor. But Kelly seemed to take Shean’s silence to mean he hadn’t been heard. So, in a slightly louder whisper, he repeated what he had just said.
‘Alright, Ben, I heard you,’ hissed an embarrassed Shean. ‘Just carry on.’6 Unfortunately, by now Lockwood had got wind that something was amiss and had begun to ask questions. Fortunately, the rest of their simulated attack went like clockwork and Lockwood was duly impressed. He, like Fife, could see just how useful these little British subs could be to a variety of different types of operation where stealth was required.
Later that day, Lockwood would formally approve Operations Foil, Sabre and Struggle.7 He had been surprised at the capabilities and efficiency of the XE-craft and their crews, in comparison with the horror stories doing the rounds among the Americans that were largely based on the earlier trials and tribulations of X-craft operations in Europe. Captain Fell couldn’t stress enough that the new XE-craft was a completely different animal from the original X-craft, the latter having been virtual prototypes that had been pressed into frontline service before all their design faults had been addressed. The XE-craft design was the next generation of small submarine, incorporating all of the lessons learned during the earlier operations in Norway and Normandy.
Captain Fell sent a report on the visit to the Admiralty in which he admitted that this stigmatisation of his submarines was unfortunately well entrenched. ‘The fallacy that X craft are unreliable, dangerous and altogether “stunt craft” dies hard.’8
*
Once the XE-4 was moored in the Bay and Admiral Lockwood safely offloaded, Ginger Coles went to work pumping out seawater from the flooded crankcase. Shean and Kelly were back aboard the Bonaventure when the ship’s public address system suddenly blared into tinny life. ‘All hands, all hands, a cyclone is approaching. Repeat, a cyclone is approaching. All XE-craft must leave their moorings and lay off immediately.’9
The wind picked up, whipping the water’s surface into steep, tumbling peaks. The wind tore the crests off the waves and within minutes the Bonaventure was straining at her anchor cables, threatening to break free at any moment. Captain Fell ran to the bridge and ordered ‘slow ahead both engines’ in an effort to gain some slack on the anchor cables.10 The Bonaventure’s cutters were soon working hard trying to rescue sailors from the water, while stacks of timber on the Bonaventure’s decks were blown off. HMS Maidstone’s six submarines had all cast off and were milling about the harbour, attempting to ride out the tornado-like conditions.11
Max Shean turned to Ben Kelly and yelled ‘Come on!’ as the wind and rain almost drowned out his words. Further out in the bay the tiny XE-4, with Ginger Coles still aboard, was rolling heavily, waves breaking over her deck. Tich Fraser and Pat Westmacott were standing on the Bonaventure’s deck with an assortment of their men, all of them frantically scanning the rough water. There wasn’t a moment to lose.
The sea’s turmoil increased with long rolling whitecaps surging through the bay while horizontal rain swept down in soaking sheets. Nature had opened hostilities and there was nothing to do but to run for cover.
When the order went out aboard the Bonaventure for all crews to stand by their XE-craft, the challenges of trying to secure the small submarines in a raging tumult of wind, rain and high waves soon became all too obvious. It was the weather, rather than the Japanese, that suddenly seemed to conspire to dash 14th Submarine Flotilla’s chances of ever seeing action.
The wind speed was soon fluctuating between Force 8 and 9, smashing, ripping and tearing at every man-made object in the bay with phenomenal power. American sailors struggled to secure their ships, tiny figures crawling about like ants under nature’s fury.
The XE-4 started to drift away on the rising waves, the force of the surge breaking her free from the floating boom used to moor the midget submarines. Unfortunately ERA Ginger Coles was still aboard her, pumping out the flooded crankcase as she drifted off stern first. Max Shean knew that he had to act, and act fast. Inside the submarine the motion was terrible, and Coles was being bounced around like a rag doll inside of a barrel. Shean and Ben Kelly didn’t hesitate but dived straight into the raging water and struck out for their submarine, fighting against the current to reach her.12 It was a hard swim, but they made it, coughing up seawater as they grabbed hold of the vessel’s trailing lines. Once aboard, Shean and the crew got themselves sorted out and then took the submarine half a mile out to sea and sat on the bottom where a bruised and battered Ginger continued pumping until the storm passed.13
The XE-5 was also in serious trouble. Her skipper, Pat Westmacott, and ERA Clifford Greenwood tried in vain to release her from the pontoon. Both men struggled in the water, spending several minutes repeatedly ducking under as they worked to free the lines, the waves breaking over their heads as they struggled to gulp a mouthful of air before another immersion. Their fingers hurt from the effort of trying to work the lines loose, both of them aware that they could be swept away or crushed by the out-of-control submarine at any minute. Suddenly the lines gave and the boat was finally loose. With an effort, Westmacott hauled himself aboard, before reaching down and helping Greenwood to climb onto the lurching and swaying deck. Both men felt like they had been fighting, their hands bleeding and their bodies bruised all over from the effort. The rain that lashed their faces was almost painful as they reached down and got the main hatch open. Hardly pausing, they scrambled down the short ladder into the damp interior, grateful to start the submarine’s engine and escape from the wrecked pontoon.
While Shean and Westmacott laboured to save their boats, XE-6, which was being used as a reserve vessel since Bruce Enzer’s death in Australia had left her with no assigned skipper, was dragged away along with her mooring buoy. The rest of her crew could only watch helplessly from the Bonaventure’s railing as the submarine made a rapid passage towards a lee shore. Captain Fell wiped the rain out of his eyes and struggled to stand upright at the Bonaventure’s rail as the wind buffeted him relentlessly, strong enough to make breathing difficult, and watched as the XE-6 sailed away on her own. He cursed and swore, convinced that one of his submarines was going to founder. Though she was the spare boat, Fell couldn’t afford to lose a single vessel as he was expecting several new missions if the cable-cutting operations and the attacks on the Japanese heavy cruisers went well, and he could expect no replacements from Britain yet. Fortunately, the XE-6’s broken moorings snagged on a coral head and the craft fetched up in deep water only a few feet from the shore. She was recovered later in the day and repairs swiftly made.
Jack Smart and the XE-1 had the greatest surprise of all. They had submerged on a training exercise some time before the storm began, descending into the then-placid waters of the bay. It was a routine outing. But then Smart chose to surface in the middle of the cyclone. Those watching aboard the Bonaventure would never forget the horrified expression on Smart’s face when he opened the submarine’s main hatch and found himself in the midst of a hurricane. The observers watched Smart’s mouth moving silently as he exclaimed and swore in shock before he quickly slammed the hatch shut and submerged again into the calmer waters deep below.14
The hero of the hour turned out to be 14th Submarine Flotilla’s illustrious visitor. Admiral Lockwood took over as coxswain of Admiral Fife’s barge and rescued three out of four ratings from the submarine tender USS Anthedon’s swamped motorboat. Unfortunately, the fourth American sailor drowned, one of several killed during the storm.15
By the time the storm abated Subic Bay presented a wild picture. Ships had been dragged from their moorings, barges half-sunk, floating cranes smashed, and the water was a thick carpet of flotsam of every description. Wearily, the British joined in the clean-up with their American allies. Fortunately for 14th Submarine Flotilla, all of the XE-craft had survived the big blow mostly undamaged. Captain Fell could breathe a sigh of relief. The carefully worked-out operational schedules for the forthcoming missions would not need to be altered.
*
‘Gentlemen, sadly some of our chaps who have been captured on operations against the Japanese have not been treated correctly,’ said Lieutenant G.C. Potter, the intelligence officer, with great understatement. ‘As I’m sure you are aware, the Japs don’t abide by the Geneva Convention in these matters.’
Potter’s remarks stilled the room, previously filled with good-natured banter. Potter began to extract various items of kit from a large cardboard box on the table in front of him.
‘Now, I’m not suggesting for one moment that any of you chaps are going to fall into Japanese hands, but the Admiralty have decided to take certain precautions to help ensure that you don’t, if anything should go wrong.’
The room was now so quiet that one could have heard a pin drop. Potter removed a smaller carton from the box and opened its top.
‘Inside here we have some badges that I would like all of you to sew on to your operational uniforms.’ He reached inside and held up two examples. One read ‘ROYAL NAVY’ and the other was a miniature Union Flag patch.16
‘Please sew one title patch and one flag on to each shoulder of your shirts,’ said Potter, pointing to his own upper left sleeve as he spoke. ‘They are to make sure that you are not mistaken for spies should you be captured.’ It was illegal to conduct offensive operations dressed in civilian or unmarked military clothing. Most countries, including Britain, took a dim view of anyone caught doing so and many combatant nations routinely executed those that they apprehended as spies and/or saboteurs. Identity discs worn around the neck might not be sufficient to convince some nations that the wearer was conducting a legal wartime mission. This was an argument used by the Japanese to attempt to justify the execution of Colonel Lyon’s captured Force Z commandos a few weeks before.
In fact, with the Japanese, most of the accepted Rules of War did not apply. They could be quite arbitrary in their treatment of prisoners, torturing and imprisoning some, while often executing others at the point of capture or soon afterwards. The treatment meted out to captured Allied personnel often depended on the mood of the soldiers who apprehended them, and the Japanese were mercurial at best. Whether proper military identification patches would make any difference to the XE-men should they fall into Japanese hands was an unanswerable question. Judging by previous Japanese treatment of Allied POWs, particularly airmen and commandos, they should expect no mercy from their captors. It was a massive incentive to seek to remain free from capture if at all possible.
Lieutenant Potter went on to explain that extra petty officers’ rank badges should be carried by the ERAs as identification, and the officers would wear rank epaulettes and also caps with the naval cap badge very tightly sewn on to them.
‘All officers will wear the rank insignia of a sub-lieutenant RNVR, regardless of your real ranks or arm of service,’ continued Potter. ‘This is to indicate your lack of knowledge and experience to the Japanese if you are captured.’17
‘That shouldn’t be too hard to fake,’ quipped Jack Smart, nervous laughter from the others breaking the tension a little.
‘Don’t worry, Smart, we’d make you all Snotties if we thought that the Japs would swallow it,’ said Potter jovially, using the naval slang for midshipmen, the lowest commissioned rank.
‘Now, if you have to vacate your submarine behind enemy lines it is likely that you will have to survive for several days or even weeks before a rescue can be attempted,’ said Potter. ‘This, then, may be your most important piece of kit,’ he said, holding up a small, neatly folded piece of white silk that came in a little oilskin pouch. With a flourish, Potter unfolded the silk, revealing a prominent Union Flag printed in the middle, around which was a message written in Chinese, Malay, English and several other languages. It stated:
I am a British naval officer who has been engaged in operations against the Japanese. If I am captured I cannot continue to fight against the Japanese so I appeal to you to hide me and provide me with food until I can rejoin our forces. If you will help me by giving me food and hiding me in a safe place until our armies arrive you will have the gratitude of my government who will give you a big reward. I am authorized to give you a chit to this effect.18
‘We call this a “Siamese Blood Chit”,’ said Potter once everyone had read the English message. ‘The Japs offer the locals rewards to hand over Allied personnel. There are loyal natives who will help you, particularly the Chinese, but you should remain on your guard. Some are quite unsavoury customers, and more than a few are actively collaborating with the Nips. This chit may keep you free should you need to ask for assistance. So whatever you do, don’t lose it. It will probably be of more use to you than this.’ He reached into the big box and placed a Colt .45 on the table with a heavy metallic clunk. His point was well taken by everyone in the room.
For the next hour the rest of the evasion and survival kit was demonstrated to the XE-men. It was a little like Christmas morning, with people passing things around and often marvelling at the ingenuity of the items provided. Aside from a holstered pistol, ammunition and the Siamese Blood Chit, there was a little cloth bag containing 25 gold sovereigns to bribe unconvinced locals, a prismatic compass, hacksaw blades, a small leather wallet containing a selection of paper currencies, silk maps, fishing line and hooks, a needle and thread, a heliograph for signalling using the sun, a tiny telescope, and a box containing emergency iron rations.19
‘There is also this,’ said Potter, placing a Fairbairn-Sykes Fighting Knife on the table. It had a mean-looking seven-inch steel blade with a black metal vase-shaped handle and a metal sheath. This weapon was ordinarily issued to Army Commandos. Several of the men stared transfixed as Potter unsheathed the knife and held it up for all to see, the deck light glinting menacingly off its razorsharp blade. ‘This is primarily a thrusting weapon for insertion between the ribs, but it can also be used to slash at an opponent,’ said Potter grimly. The thought of sticking a knife into another human being was a sobering one. Several of the men winced in distaste at the thought.
‘Finally, we have the “L” pill,’ said Potter, holding up a small Bakelite vial that contained a single tablet.
‘“L” pill?’ asked Westmacott.
‘“L” for “Lethal”, old boy,’ replied Potter, his face sober. The ‘L’ pill contained hydrogen cyanide, and was a last resort for those who preferred death to capture. It was the smallest item that Potter had shown them, but by the far the most shocking. All of the kit, except the pistol, which would be worn on a belt around the waist during an evasion, went into a small army haversack to be stowed inside the submarine.
*
Later that night, Fraser lay in his bunk thinking about capture. He had a dread fear of torture, and the thought of falling into Japanese hands, of never seeing his wife and daughter again, sent a chill through his body. The fear would always be with the men who embarked on missions against the Japanese. It was as though a pitiless, faceless monster was standing behind them, just out of sight but lurking in the shadows waiting for them to make a mistake. Waiting to pounce. The monster had no compassion and didn’t live by the same rules as the XE-men. And Fraser and his companions were going to try to enter the monster’s domain, his lair. Get caught and his fury would be boundless.
It was very clear from Potter’s escape and evasion briefing that if he and his crew had to abandon their submarine, they would be on their own. Though Potter talked about them having to survive for several days or weeks until rescue, he was fooling nobody. There was little chance that a rescue could be effected from occupied Singapore or southern Malaya. The only thing Fraser and the others could cling to was the chance that they might be able to join up with the local resistance, assuming they could even make such a contact without compromising themselves. Potter had provided the men with a short list of contacts and addresses. Before Fraser switched off the light beside his bunk and turned in for the night he thought about the ‘Siamese Blood Chit’ – it was, he thought, chillingly well named.