For some months, while the main body were in Ireland, a detachment had been maintained at the Naval Barracks at Devonport to carry out operations in Spain should Hitler decide to strike south from France. But as our jobs were often secret this did not cause much comment. This detachment consisted of Major Sammy Green, four officers and 100 NCOs and men of 297 Field Park Company who had joined us in Gravesend. During these months a large amount of training in addition to the usual arts and crafts associated with sappers, was put in on watermanship, sailing and general boat drill which produced an atmosphere of mystery. The time slipped by pleasantly except for one tragic occasion when an air raid robbed us of twenty-five of our men by a direct hit upon a shelter. All hands of the contingent became more and more naval in their outlook. They had reached the stage when they talked of going aboard and going ashore when entering or leaving their camp.
On a sun splashed summer Sunday in 1941, a church parade was in progress and the unit was all present, polished and scrubbed, and equipment freshly dabbed with khaki blanco No. 3. They sat squeezed together in the pews listening to the sermon. The service was nearly over, the familiar psalms and hymns had been sung and the preacher had got to the stage when one could detect almost subconsciously by tone and pitch of voice rather than logic that he was running dry. The heat of the day, the peaceful surroundings and maybe the sermon, had produced a mental serenity among the troops which the sergeant major described as going to sleep, only more forcefully! Into this quiet atmosphere the staccato clatter of a pair of army boots up the aisle caused all to rouse themselves and restart mind and imagination. It was ‘waiting duties’ from the guard so they thought this must be urgent as they watched him hand Sammy Green an envelope. For some this was the beginning of a journey to the far north.
After they marched back from the church to the parade ground, before being dismissed, an order was issued by Major Green for three officers and thirty men to re-muster in battle order with their kit in an hour’s time and be ready to move. As our units had served under the command of the British Army, the French Army, and frequently under Naval Command, it did not surprise them greatly when the party was ordered to report for operations under command of a Canadian force which was assembling in the vicinity.
After an address by the rear admiral of the dockyard, this contingent under Green left the naval depot to the strains of our regimental march played by a Royal Marine Band, and entrained for an unknown destination. After the usual long train journey and the inevitable transit camp – how the men swear about this feature of army life – they found themselves aboard a large British troopship with several hundred Canadians including Major Walsh of the Royal Canadian Engineers with his 3 Canadian Field Company. He was acting CRE of the force. Almost as soon as they were aboard they weighed anchor and slipped silently away from the port.
During the outward voyage there was a good deal to keep them occupied with practice drills for surface raider attack, boat stations, dummy air raid alarms, abandoning ship and so forth. Their off duty time was devoted to fraternizing with the Canadians.
One stirring event on the outward voyage, which greatly impressed all ranks, was a chance meeting with a large Atlantic convoy en route for Great Britain. Coming up over the horizon with their escort vessels, they steamed majestically past, an apt illustration of how the life of our nation depends upon sea power.
So far the average speed of the expedition was about 18 knots until, arriving off Iceland, they dropped anchor for a few hours. Here they met American naval officers who came out and visited the ships and enjoyed British hospitality. As a matter of fact one young American officer enjoyed himself so much that he forgot to disembark and it was only after an exchange of signals and the holding up of the whole convoy that he was eventually returned to his own dry ship!
As the troopship was strongly protected by an escort of HM ships, it was freely conjectured that it was to be another ‘party’. Speculation was rife throughout the ship’s company as to their destination; bets were offered and taken. One enterprising Canadian was running a regular book in which you could take your choice from the Arctic to the Antarctic. After a lapse of several days, steaming north with the weather getting colder and colder, there was very little left to guess about. The whole affair was just strange. The mystery was increased by the arrival of still more naval units who joined the escort.
When well out to sea and nearing the objective, the Canadian Commander held a conference with the senior officers, and outlined the plan. This in turn was put to the men, section by section, and procedure was discussed in every detail. Variations had to be arranged according to the circumstances on arrival as it was not known whether or not the landing would be opposed.
At this stage all ranks were given thick woollen underclothing, socks, ski-boots, leather jerkins and sheepskin coats. Having donned these outfits they looked and felt really tough! As the convoy neared Spitzbergen, which they now knew was the expedition’s destination, the men who had also been provided with life jackets and caps, slept fully dressed with their small arms readily accessible.
On the fifth day out they were in the Arctic Circle. The brilliant sunshine of the first few days gave way to cold foggy weather and the extra warmth of their special clothing was appreciated as also was the ration issue of rum. The next day was very cold with a clear blue sky and a smooth sea. Meanwhile the ships kept up their steady progress. In an effort to keep out the cold, frequent PT was now the main feature of activities.
The seventh day brought further cold and foggy weather, with the expedition still steaming north. During the day, final arrangements for disembarkation were completed and Russian and Norwegian interpreters were attached to all parties, all secret instructions destroyed and final operation orders given to Group Commanders. Speed was reduced to 8 knots and they dropped anchor in one of the fjords the same evening. A large school of whales in the vicinity proved to be the main item of interest – an entirely new experience for most of the ships’ company.
An idea of the background may be gained from the following brief description of this strange northern land. It is light for the whole of the twenty-four hours in the summer and this perhaps is the most unusual feature. At home one punctuates one’s existence by day and night but out there you wake up at midnight, look at your watch which says twelve o’clock. You look out of the porthole to find it is broad daylight and that leaves one in the uncomfortable position of not knowing whether it is midnight or high noon. The island of Spitzbergen, or more correctly the Spitzbergen Archipelago is between 10 degrees and 35 degrees E. longitude and 74 degrees and 81 degrees N. latitude. The biggest island is almost the size of England and Scotland, with two others to the east and west respectively, each about the size of Ireland; these are separated from the central mainland by channels. The first view reveals a barren mountainous region, utterly devoid of vegetation of any kind, snow-capped hills and numerous deep navigable fjords running inland. Glaciers reflect the light even more brilliantly than the snow covered wastes. The sea is bright and broken by ice floes, and at places, is frozen over and merges with the land. The air is crisp and clear with a blue sky in which birds wheel and skim the surface of the sea and land. Everywhere divers, gulls, puffins, geese and eider ducks abound.
Ashore seams of coal can be seen running horizontally and also outcrops on the sides of the hills, hence the mining settlements of Norwegians and Russians. These communities live in separate towns and do not appear to mix to any extent. The seasonal presence of whales in these waters brings the whaling fleets and the whale oil industry onto the island; the only other occupation, save for a few trappers working inland. These trappers were later brought in to the coastal towns by messages dropped by an aeroplane and they turned up loaded with pelts. Blue fox, white fox, polar bear and reindeer being their quarry. These beautiful skins represent in themselves a great story of hardihood, courage and adventure, before they reach their market as luxury clothing to adorn the women of many lands; many months of dark skies, gales and blizzards weed out all but the strongest of men and beast alike.
The day of arrival, the ship anchored in deep water off the Russian settlement of Barentsburg; from here the outcrop of coal on the mountainside was easily visible. The ninth day saw the disembarkation and landing of the troops, who, right from the first, were received in the friendliest manner by the inhabitants. The commander of the force met the civilian officials, and made arrangements for the complete evacuation of the entire population of the island. Our party was given its objectives, and split up accordingly, one section going to the Russian settlement of Grumantly and the others to Pyramiden about four hours steaming from there.
Going ashore in naval pinnaces, the party was met by the Russians who seemed overjoyed and expressed their feelings by clapping hands. They gave the troops cigarettes and chocolates, with which they seemed to be better supplied than most NAAFI canteens at home. Meanwhile stores were unloaded, and after a brief reconnaissance, tasks allocated. All demolition here was completed in eight hours, after which the sappers, with their new found friends the Russians, embarked in HM ship and took passage to Barentsburg arriving at four o’clock the following morning.
The sappers then went to their next port of call, Ny Alesund, where further work of demolition and scorched earth had by now become a matter of daily routine. Our second party had worked continuously for twenty-four hours, destroying the mines and coal stocks at Grumantly and they then re-embarked for food and sleep. The first party went to Barentsburg to assist in the general evacuation of the place prior to certain final demolitions.
The sight of those vast coal stocks, burning furiously against the high background of the snow capped mountains and glaciers as they withdrew, was truly remarkable. Just picture thousands of tons of coal on fire in that Arctic setting . . .
The eleventh day they arrived back at Barentsburg and met those who had been to Ny Alesund and Sveagruva. But life is more than houses and machinery, there were live stock, horses, cows, pigs and domestic animals which could not be just abandoned and had to be slaughtered. The sappers thought that this was perhaps the toughest job of the lot. The depressing sight of this deserted town with the slaughtered animals lying there, for these had been shot, was an unpleasant memory although they were able to enjoy a meal from a huge beast which was roasted in the embers.
The evacuation of the inhabitants was very thoroughly organized, even to the extent of planes flying inland over miles of barren and desolate snow covered wastes, to warn trappers to return to town.
The work of demolition was systematically carried on at Ny Alesund and the Norwegian settlements of Longyearby and Sveagruva, Pyramiden, Grumantly and Barentsburg. All fuel stocks were fired; possibly a quarter of a million tons. Mining machinery and similar equipment was blown up, and rendered useless. Large stocks of mine explosives were destroyed; in one case as much as eight tons.
Before the large dumps of coal could be ignited it was necessary to cut adits or galleries leading into the pits, so as to ensure an adequate supply of air for combustion. As these huge heaps were above ground and frozen, this job was rather like working inside a refrigerator. It was literally like cutting one’s way through a conglomeration of coal and solid ice. The labour involved was considerable, and although the operation turned out to be unopposed, the task was an arduous undertaking for the troops, as the weather was at times severe and at the very best, cold. At night, at some of the anchorages, the sea froze and ice floes were a fairly common sight. Amongst the new experiences, at least to our men, in this strange and barren land, was the sight of arctic seals, polar bears, reindeer and arctic fox at Sveagruva.
Towards the end of this brief occupation, an incident occurred which might well have proved disastrous. In the early hours of the morning, the wooden town of Barentsburg caught fire. Troops were sleeping in some of the houses and turned out to fight the flames. For a while it looked as if the flames had been isolated, but eventually they spread and the whole place was burned to the ground.
Towards the end all equipment and stores, including as much as possible of the belongings of the Norwegians and Russians, were ferried out and put aboard the troopship; no small task in itself. The trappers refused to be parted from their dogs, nor was it conceivably possible to destroy them, so they were evacuated with their fellow human beings. They came aboard like well disciplined troops, their masters directing them with a few laconic commands of ‘right, left, stop’ and so forth. This caused great amusement amongst the troops who all agreed that there must be a training battalion somewhere for huskies.
The last scene in the drama was the final departure from Longyearby, which was carried out with traditional ceremony; the Norwegian flag was hauled down and the last post was sounded. Whereas for some days past the hills had shuddered with the reverberations of demolitions, now the ghostly echoes of those final notes came back from the hills as if to indicate a happier future in the days to come.
Eventually at eleven o’clock in the evening on the eighteenth day from home, the expedition weighed anchor and headed southwards. About 200 Free French officers accompanied the party on their homeward voyage. They had escaped from concentration camps in Poland and crossed the frontier into Russia. They were overjoyed at the prospect of rejoining their compatriots; several spoke English and told tales of cruelty and hardship at the hands of the Hun and then talked of the people who write to our papers at home about the ‘poor Germans’ as if to distinguish them from the Nazis. One of these Frenchmen told a crazy story of how he got into Russia disguised as a peasant by driving a herd of cattle over the border before Russia had entered the war. So great was the Russian sense of neutrality that they interned him but politely returned the cattle to the Germans.
During the voyage home the weather was fine, the sea calm and with the increasing warmth spirits rose until, at 11 p.m. on the twenty-second day, the anchor was dropped in a home port. The job is perhaps best summed up by the chance remark of a Canadian, overheard just before disembarking; ‘Funny job this dropping salt on the tails of the Herrenvolk’.