The difficulties of the blockships, Thetis, Iphigenia and Intrepid, were not restricted to entering the canal – although that problem would seem enough. In addition they had to sink themselves in a manner which would ensure (a) they could not easily be moved, (b) they would prevent the passage of enemy craft, and (c) their presence would cause the channel to silt up. The tide at Zeebrugge rises 15 feet; the blockships therefore needed to be where the upper structures would be within 6 feet of high tide level, to obstruct the path of shipping effectively. For the maximum value to be obtained from the silting up process the blockships needed to be as squarely across the channel as their length permitted and then the bottoms could be blown out, releasing tons of cement which would rapidly be covered with silt and take months, if not years, to move.
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From G. Cory-Wright: a hot seat
My late father was in command of the blockship Intrepid at Zeebrugge.
He got onto a Carley float after the Intrepid was scuttled. Unfortunately the flares had not been removed and ignited on contact with the water. He spent a very unpleasant half hour floating in the harbour making a perfect illuminated target for the Germans. He was awarded the DSC.
Lieutenant Alan Cory-Wright’s citation read: ‘Showed great coolness during the action, and by his bravery and cheerfulness throughout set a fine example to his men.’
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From R. H. Thorp: Percy Dean commanded ‘ML 282’ and showed outstanding courage in rescuing men from the blockships. The reference to ‘Iris’ and ‘Daffodil’ is mistaken.
Perhaps the following information might prove of interest to you.
I refer, in particular, to the exploits of Percy Dean who commanded, either the Daffodil or the Iris, (two ferry boats formerly employed in the Liverpool service between the port and nearby suburbs). These two boats were commissioned by the Admiralty to block the harbour at Zeebrugge in order to restrict the activities of the German submarines (then known as U-boats) which were then taking an immense toll on our shipping facilities. The exploit proved to be an outstanding success and for his courage and gallantry Commander Percy Dean was awarded the Victoria Cross.
Fortunately, he survived the affair, and after the War he returned to continue his business as a State Merchant. His business was conducted from Canal House, Eanam Wharf, Blackburn, Lanes. The business ceased to function about 1950. He died comparatively young, but I believe he left a son of whom I have no further knowledge. Beyond his activities in the War he took little or no interest in public affairs. So far as I remember he was a very modest man and little was known of him beyond his own domestic circle. He was a member of the Royal Volunteer Naval Reserve and it was in that capacity he was chosen to lead the Zeebrugge Raid.
May I say, in passing, that an oil painting of Percy Dean VC, hung on the staircase to the local Museum and Library in Library Street, Blackburn.
I hope this letter, although lacking the detailed information you may require, might lead you into other channels which will prove more fruitful. My sole object in writing you is to ensure that the name and exploits of Percy Dean receives a prominent place in the proposed publication. He was a man of outstanding courage and, in my generation, a local idol.
From T. Harrild: the blockships at Ostend
My daughter living in Woking brought me a cutting from a newspaper re: Zeebrugge. Well I was not in that part of the raid, but I was in HMS Brilliant with the Sirius on the raid to get between the piers at Ostend, but owing to the shifting of the Stroom Bank buoy we ran aground, and being stuck there was very unhealthy with the searchlights and shore batteries firing at a sitting target just off shore.
After the war I was in P21 and we used to take the ‘King’s Messenger’ to Ostend and on one occasion I went ashore and looking in a shop window I saw two postcard photos of the Brilliant and Sirius, which must have been taken the next morning with the Brilliant on fire. Well I have these photos and also the Matrix of the Raid printed by Daily Mail, the first to let the public know of the event.
At the time I was an Ordinary Signaller aged 18. If I remember rightly our COs were Commander Godsal and Lieutenant Crutchley, whom I think took the Vindictive to Ostend and were killed.
One thing I’m rather annoyed about is that there is no mention on my Naval history sheet of the Brilliant or the Raid.
Lieutenant Victor Crutchley was awarded the DSC for 23rd April for showing great coolness under heavy fire, and setting a fine example to his men. He immediately volunteered for the second operation, where he was awarded the VC (see page 209).
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From E. Vaux: account by Lieutenant Vaux
HMS Iphigenia, c/o GPO 8th April
I am shortly off in this good ship on rather an interesting job – in fact, this is the ship and the job that I have been employed in preparing since 6th February (the day I paid off the Marvel). Of course it is most frightfully secret, hence my camouflage to you in saying that I was going (a) to recommission the Marvel, (b) on experimental work, (c) going to Dwarf as first lieutenant, etc., etc., sorry, but it was absolutely necessary. I was extraordinarily lucky in getting it, as it is a volunteer job and there are only a few officers in it. By the time you get this epistle it will be all over and I shall be either home or a prisoner of war or no longer, hence the letter explaining.
I am nominally navigator here, in addition there is the captain, the first lieutenant and engineer, all of which are first-rate fellows and we are a very cheery mess. We hope to be off tomorrow with any luck, but the weather may not be suitable, in which case, we shall have to wait a bit longer. By the way, when I went up to Liverpool the other day, I was sent up by Admiral Keyes to bring the Iris and Daffodil (the two that are going alongside the Mole at Zeebrugge) down. They were both Liverpool ferry steamers running from Woodside across, but unfortunately they weren’t ready when the two pukka captains had turned up, so down I came to Chatham.
I was very lucky in being the second officer of the five blocking ships to arrive at Chatham (the rest didn’t come till about a month later) as I was pretty busy helping to look after them, as they were in their initial stages then; also I took one or two trips down to the Admiral at Dover with despatches, etc. Just after I had joined this stunt about 8th February I went up to the Admiralty and saw a lot of Brass Hats. One of them took me into a room and asked me if I wanted to go, then if I was married and if I was engaged, etc., etc. It was most thrilling, quite a musical comedy sort of business; in fact, I used to sleep with my notes, etc., buttoned to my chest, so to speak! It was rather amusing at Chatham too. Lots of fellows used to ask me what I was doing, so I had to invent all sorts of stories to put them off the track.
I don’t think it’s much use my telling you exactly what we are going to do as (a) we’ve got to do it first (b) it will be out in the papers before you get this. Anyway the whole aim of the operation is for three ships of which this is one, to steam into Zeebrugge and sink, thereby blocking the entrance and exit of the port, which, if successfully done, will stop somewhere about 50 per cent, of the sinking of merchant vessels – also for two ships to do the same at Ostend. All the rest of the party in the operation are merely to help us to get in, though, of course, they have got just as tough a job if not tougher. If the Hun is not expecting us I think we ought to do it O.K., but if he is all ready it’s going to be a pretty tough proposition, as we have to steam past their guns at practically point blank range. Getting away is also a bit of a problem. If the cutter is seaworthy, I pull away in her like blazes, after the ship is blown up and sunk, out to sea and hope to get picked up by a destroyer or something. If I can’t manage that, I shall row to Holland – only 7 miles – walk ashore, demand 24 hours to repair my ship (this is quite O.K. as by international law, a warship may put into a neutral port for 24 hours to repair damages – my cutter will certainly be a man-of-war, as it will have pistols aboard! and probably a broken oar as damages!), then pay a visit to the British Attaché or what not and get him to cable for a destroyer or motor boat to take me back – voila, quite simple. Of course that is assuming we are lucky enough to get in and lucky enough to get out again.
By the way, we are lying in the Swin now, not far from Chatham. I got a whole lot of food from Fortnum.
Lieutenant Philip Vaux was awarded the DSC for valuable services as navigating officer of Iphigenia in a position of considerable danger at times under heavy fire.
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From E. Elliot: the Cement
At the time of the Raid, my late husband was the Chief Engineer at the Earle’s Cement Works at Ellesmere Port in Cheshire. I was not married to him there, but in later years he told me that at that time there was a rushed job at the Works. All hands were roped in to help load the obsolete battleships with cement before they were taken to be blockships to stop German submarines leaving and entering the Brugge Canal.
I have been extremely interested in both great wars, because of course they have taken place in my lifetime. Their venues and geographical situations have had a great influence during the last few years. I have travelled a great deal and whenever and wherever possible I have visited places concerned, not perhaps historical as yet, but which in time will become so.
I have seen the bridge on the river Kwai, Kranji (Singapore), the Burma railway, entered Changi Jail, been to Corregidor and recently spent some time visiting the British Cemetery at El Alamein.
To continue the first part of this letter (I know I have digressed). Two years ago I left Amsterdam by Dutch Cargo Ship for a voyage out East. The first morning, thinking to be at sea I was most surprised on looking out of my cabin window to find us passing close to a lighthouse at the end of a long mole or breakwater. I could hardly believe my eyes, for the passengers had not been told of this event. We had called at Zeebrugge to take on a quantity of dynamite – kept as a secret for some time. This was discharged later in the voyage at Carite – in Manila Bay; of course, knowing our ship to be at Zeebrugge for only a very short time, I climbed down the ladder and went ashore.
I took a very thoughtful walk along the Mole to the lighthouse. My thoughts turned back to over 50 years ago and the events of that brilliantly thought out piece of strategy and tactics. The bitter wind blew in from the North Sea (it was winter) but I will always remember having seen one more place where brave deeds had been performed during my lifetime.
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Account sent in by Mrs O. Partridge – Kent newspaper account
The bottling up of Zeebrugge will always count one of the most glorious feats of a service which has built up a tradition of accomplishing the impossible and while it has been recorded in official documents, where it may serve to stir future generations of England’s Jack Tars to emulation, it is good to have the story of it as it presented itself to the lower deck man who participated in that night’s great doings. Such a narrative as we heard the other day from Leading Seaman Edwards, of Plumstead, in the Seamen’s Hospital, Greenwich, where he lies making a good recovery from honourable wounds, stirs the blood and helps us to realise in some degree our debt to our gallant boys of the Senior Service.
Edwards, who has four shrapnel wounds in the right leg and two in the right arm, was helmsman of Iphigenia, one of the two crafts which made a magnificent end at the entrance to the harbour of Zeebrugge. ‘I doubt,’ (he said) ‘whether you could have found anywhere a company more fitted to the enterprise than that which was chosen – and I am not saying so because I was one of them. We all knew exactly what we were to do, and if everybody save myself had been killed on my old craft I could have taken her to the appointed place, so thoroughly had we been instructed. Only one spirit prevailed – to get there and do the job successfully! At supper, at ten o’clock on that wonderful night there was a good deal of conversation, and while all realised the risk that we must run and few expected to come out alive, I heard only one opinion. “We don’t mind the sacrifice so long as it’s a success and helps things along!” It is one of the most marvellous things I have seen in eleven years of seafaring life that so many of us came out unhurt.
‘As we went in Vindictive led, with Iris and Daffodil, then Thetis, Intrepid and Iphigenia. We got within about two miles of the Mole before the Germans commenced their barrage, and from what we had been told we knew that once we were inside we were comparatively safe. Under cover of bombs dropped by our airmen and of fire from our monitors we went through the barrage, and as we approached the Mole we came under the light of the star shells which the enemy sent up. Gun and pom-pom firing told us that the Vindictive had reached her objective, and in we went. Right, left, and ahead of us there were batteries, but everything went lovely; we got round the Mole, and were ordered to take stations. Just then we saw Thetis in difficulties, and we went astern and manoeuvred so as to get past her. As we went by Thetis a shell caught our foremost funnel and made a big gash. All that I heard from our commander, who was on the bridge, was a remark that our artificial fog apparatus was put out of action. We got the order to shift to the aft wheel; the next was “Hard a-port”. Illuminated by the star shells and the searchlights, we could see the jetty, on which there were several machine-guns. But before we reached the point for which we were making we hit a barge, on which there were four machine-guns, clean amidships, and carried it from its moorings.
‘A moment later we got jammed right across the entrance and received the order to abandon ship. My chum, whose duty it was, nipped down to the engine-room to connect up the mines and blow the bottom out of her. While this was being done Intrepid drew up alongside of us. My job was done, so I took up a rifle, pointed it at some figures which I took to be machine-gunners on the jetty, and I believe I managed to get two of them. Then we took to the boats, and it was not until just before she reached the water that it was found the cutter I was in was damaged. I tore off my coat, and with my sea-boots and a few odd things made a bundle with which I tried to bung up the hole, but it was no use. The tide was running, and when we came in the water that was being churned up by the screw of Iphigenia the cutter was sinking. With shrapnel flying overhead I swam to the other boat, and just as I reached it I felt something in the right arm. They pulled me aboard her, and I found the coxswain, wounded in both legs, at the tiller. There were several dead in the boat. I remember remarking, “They have caught me at last,” and then moved my arm, relieved to find it was not broken. Before this I must have been hit in the leg, but I did not know it, and when a motor-launch came up I mustered sufficient strength to clamber aboard, although I had been within an ace of becoming unconscious. The next thing I remember is being hauled aboard Warwick, which carried me to Dover and from there I came on here.’
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From E. Oldaker, niece of Captain S. G. West
Captain Sidney Greville West DSC, OBE, RN
The part he played in the attack on Zeebrugge on 23rd April 1918 for which he was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross
In 1918 he was sent from HMS Benbow as an Engineer Officer with the rank of sub-lieutenant, for the Zeebrugge raid. His assignment was to set the time bomb that blew up one of the blockships (the Iphigenia) and bottled up the U-boats in their headquarters behind the Mole or breakwater. Two other blockships were also sunk Thetis and Intrepid.
After the event all key people were interviewed by Admiral ‘Evans of the Broke’. Captain West had formed a mental picture of the Admiral – an idealised compound of Nelson, Beatty and King George – but was dismayed at being ushered into the presence of a short, balding old gentleman with practically no chin. Within five minutes his hero worship was completely restored by the vigour directness and acumen of the Admiral whom Captain West later described as a ‘Tiger in sheep’s clothing’.
Captain West, together with all the key people, was invited to add a touch of paint to the famous oil painting of the Zeebrugge raid which now hangs in the Royal Exchange. Those who did so were later presented with a miniature print of the painting.
Mate Sidney Greville West’s citation for the DSC read: ‘Throughout the preparations and the operation this officer worked his department in an admirable manner. After the alarm bell for blowing the charges had been rung he returned to the engine room in order to start the engines ahead and did not finally leave until he received an order from the commanding officer to do so. He was thus of the greatest assistance in the accurate placing of the blockship.’
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