Chapter 12; Rescue Flights & Secret Missions

THE PROTECTION from the air against the attacks of U-boats and of enemy aircraft given to the ships of the Royal Navy and the Merchant Navy, whether alone or in convoy, is not the only form of aid in the power of Coastal Command to bestow. There is also the assistance to be rendered to a vessel in danger or distress, and to her company if the worst has happened and she has been sunk by the enemy. Since they are able, as a general rule, to see a far greater distance than is possible from the deck or mast-head of a ship, the pilots and crews of Coastal Command are often in a position to give warning should a vessel be running into peril. Being about their business over large areas of ocean almost every day, they are usually at the scene of a disaster more quickly than anyone else. They can also go to the rescue of airmen adrift in dinghies after a forced landing on the sea.

The help which can be given to ships running into danger is best shown by a few examples. On several occasions ships steaming unwittingly into mine-fields have been given timely warning. Thus in March 1940 a number of mines were seen by a patrolling aircraft directly in the path of a Dutch vessel, the " Stadtschiedam." The visual signals made were ignored, but the merchant vessel was eventually induced to make the necessary change of course by bursts of machine-gun fire across her bows.

On 16th July of that year a Sunderland saw the masts and upper works of a destroyer and a merchant vessel protruding from thick fog which lay low over the sea off the inhospitable coast of North-East Scotland. The ships, which were making for a port anchorage, were about to run into a small island, but the aircraft, flashing the international sign U-U-U, meaning " You are running into danger," and then the signal "Turn to port," enabled them to enter harbour in safety. Later that day the same Sunderland brought back a destroyer which had lost touch with its six companions.

Such shepherding is part of the routine work of convoy protection and needs no further description. Of equal, possibly greater, importance has been the help rendered to the submarines and surface craft of the Royal Navy which have suffered damage by mines or in action with the enemy.

On 27th November, 1939, the British submarine "Triad" reported that she was in difficulties off the Norwegian coast. She was found by three Hudsons sent out for that purpose, and though lost in vile weather, was picked up again by more Hudsons which gave protection to two destroyers and another submarine, the "Triumph," which had gone to her assistance. The "Triumph" herself needed help a month later when she struck a floating mine in the North Sea. On both occasions Hudsons drove off enemy aircraft seeking to bomb the submarines, which reached port in safety. About that time, too, air protection was given to H. M.S. "Barham" while at sea in a damaged condition.

On the night of 10th/11th May, 1940, the destroyer H.M.S. "Kelly" was torpedoed in the North Sea during an engagement with enemy E-boats. She was part of a force proceeding to Terschelling to engage in operations off the Dutch coast. H.M.S. "Bulldog," which had rammed and sunk one of the E-boats, took her in tow. Air protection was requested and Hudsons found the disabled destroyer. By 6.0 a.m. the "Kelly" had listed so badly that her starboard decks were awash. Nevertheless she was not abandoned by her crew.

All that day Hudsons kept the guard of the skies in relays above her, leaving only when darkness fell. On the next day a Sunderland arrived at dawn and carried out an antisubmarine patrol. Admiralty tugs came LIP and took over the task of towing the " Kelly," and Hudsons once more gave protection throughout the -day. Twice Heinkels tried to bomb the destroyer. The Hudsons failed to prevent them from dropping their bombs, but their presence forced the Heinkels to attack in a hurried, almost a furtive, manner and no bomb fell near their target.

Throughout that day and half the next the air cover was maintained until the " Kelly " entered port, little more than her upper works being visible. The Royal Navy had saved their ship ; the Royal Air Force had helped them to do so. That evening the Commander-in-Chief at Rosyth expressed his thanks. Forty-nine aircraft took part in this operation, which was completed by 1.0 p.m. on 13th May.

In July 1940 an aircraft of Coastal Command discovered H.M.S. " Whirlwind " which had been badly damaged by a U-boat. It directed another destroyer to the scene and the crew were rescued. On 1st September of that year assistance was given to H.M.S. " Ivanhoe and H.M.S. " Express."

Nearly a year later, on 22nd August, 1941, the Free French submarine "Rubis" was in grave difficulty off the coast of Norway. Blenheims of Coastal Command found her in the morning and constant patrols were maintained over her. On the next day she was seen to be stopped and reported by signal to a Beaufort that her batteries were destroyed but that she was water-tight.

A Sunderland and two Catalinas were despatched to pick up the crew, for it was impossible for surface vessels to reach the "Rubis" with safety owing to the presence of an enemy mine-field. Such a rescue was not, however, necessary, for the "Rubis" succeeded in starting her surface engines and moving slowly towards her base. She eventually made port in safety escorted by units of the Royal Navy, protection from the air being maintained by Blenheims and Beaufighters.

By then the method of rescuing a ship's crew by flying boat was nothing new. It had first been successfully practised by three Sunderlands which went to the rescue of the S.S. "Kensington Court" on 18th September, 1939. The position of the sinking ship had been accurately given and the three aircraft converged upon her almost simultaneously. It was arranged that one should remain on guard above, keeping watch for the U-boat which had torpedoed the S.S. "Kensington Court," while the others landed to pick up the survivors.

Of these there were 34 in two ships' boats, but the heavy swell prevented them from approaching the Sunderlands too closely. A shuttle service of rubber dinghies was established and all the survivors were got on board, 21 on the one and the remaining 13 on the other.

In the case of the " Kensington Court " the crew had only just taken to the boats. In that of the "Stangrant " they had been in them for three and a half days. It was on 16th October, 1940, that the rescue was made. Two days before, a lifeboat with 21 men in it had been seen by a Sunderland, which dropped a container with food and cigarettes, for the condition of the sea made it impossible for the flying boat to alight. Two days later the Sunderland set out again.

"It was still dark," said the pilot, "when one of my gunners reported a red light on the sea some miles away. . . . Soon we could see the outline of a boat below us. We flew round for about a quarter of an hour waiting for daylight. . . . I discussed landing with my co-pilots. We decided that it could be done and I came down on what appeared to be the flattest area of sea in the neighbourhood". The flying boat landed safely, reached the boat, and took off the men. On the way back they were given a hot breakfast on board the Sunderland.

Some five weeks before this rescue a British submarine had held up the Norwegian vessel "Tropic Sea." On board was a German prize crew seeking to take the vessel into a French port. On the appearance of the British submarine the "Tropic Sea" was scuttled, the Norwegian crew escaping in one boat and the German prize crew in another. A Sunderland with an armed crew was dispatched to pick up both the Norwegians and the Germans. They found only the Norwegians, whom they rescued.

Such air-borne rescues as these, however, form but a small proportion of the total which have been carried out through the instrumentality of Coastal Command. The crews of its aircraft are in a unique position to witness the triumphs and tragedies of the Battle of the Atlantic. Mute evidence of this long, enduring struggle-rafts, Carley floats, lifeboats, empty or manned only by the dead-drifts only too often beneath their eyes. It is when they are occupied that no time must be lost.

Coastal Command began early. In September 1939 the S.S. "Blairlogie," under fire from a U-boat, sent out an S 0 S. A Sunderland went to the rescue. Four and a half hours after leaving base and some 300 miles from the nearest land, the Sunderland found not the ship, which had sunk, but the crew in the boats. The aircraft brought an American vessel to the scene and stood by until the rescue had been made, returning late in the evening after a flight of more than 1,300 miles.

On 2nd December, 1939, a Hudson sighted seven people adrift on a raft over a hundred miles from the East coast of Scotland. In fog and mist it guided a Danish ship to the spot. A little later a Hudson found six survivors of the Swedish ship "Listor" clinging to its cargo, a quantity of timber, strewn over the surface of the sea. The Hudson, and subsequently its relief, remained above them for five hours until a destroyer arrived to pick them up.

On 2nd March the S.S. " Domala " was bombed and set on fire 14 miles off Selsey Bill in the Channel. A destroyer was led by an Anson to a raft, the only one of four with anyone on it. On 2nd July a Sunderland was dispatched to find the survivors of the "Arandora Star," torpedoed in the Atlantic when carrying a large number of enemy aliens for internment in Canada. Thirteen lifeboats packed with survivors were picked up soon after 11.0 a.m. Near by them, scattered over a wide area, were rafts, pieces of wood and other wreckage to which survivors were clinging. " Of these there were many score," reported the Sunderland, which dropped "Mae Wests," first-aid outfits and packages of food. Two hours later it found the destroyer "St. Laurent," of the Royal Canadian Navy, and brought it towards the lifeboats. The Sunderland then flew round and round for somewhat mere than three hours guiding the destroyer's boats by means of flares to where the survivors were floating.

On 25th September, 1940, a Sunderland on escort duty was proceeding to base after carrying out an anti-submarine patrol round a convoy. After some time its crew sighted a lifeboat in the sea. Flying lower, the captain saw that some of the persons on board were children. One of them, a small boy, began slowly to wave a white rag, spelling out the letters " City of _" The captain knew the rest. This was a lifeboat of the " City of Benares," a liner which had been torpedoed eight days before.

It had been carrying children from this country to Canada. The Sunderland turned back towards the convoy which it had left, signalled to its relief, another Sunderland, and then, petrol being low, returned to base. The other Sunderland flew 50 miles to a warship and led it to the boat. Forty-six survivors were picked up.

A month later a Stranraer flying boat found a lifeboat with 25 survivors of the S.S. "Pacific Ranger" on board. Nineteen of them were rescued by a destroyer. On 26th October a Sunderland helped naval units to pick up survivors from the " Empress of Britain." During the operation three Blenheim fighters gave protection from enemy air attack. A similar office was performed by a Sunderland a few days later when all the survivors from the "Laurentic " were picked up.

In March 1941 a Whitley found survivors of the S.S. " Beaverbrae," the victim of an enemy aircraft. On 10th June two Wellingtons of the Command each sighted a lifeboat with survivors off the coast of Northern Ireland. Over 40 men were saved by destroyers.

On 10th February, 1942, a Hudson sighted a raft with two survivors upon it. A trawler was directed to the spot and reached the raft on the next day, having been helped thither by a Catalina. The men were rescued. They were a Dane and a Swede, survivors from the SS. "Yngarin," which had been torpedoed nearly a month before. The men were fit and well when picked up owing to the construction of the raft, a product of the ship's carpenter. It could float either way up and was well stocked with water, provisions and blankets. The men had been able to cook hot meals on it.

So this work goes on. It will end only when the war ends. About 3,000 persons adrift in the sea were sighted and helped by aircraft of Coastal Command in the first two years of war.

On 22nd June, 1941, Hitler launched his attack on Russia. On the 24th two Catalinas arrived at a base in North-East Scotland and took on board an official Mission to the Government of the U.S.S.R. It included some high officers of the Army and the Royal Air Force, the British Ambassador to the Soviet Government and other important persons. The next day the two flying boats flew to Archangel. One of the passengers kept a diary in which he has recorded, in the manner of Mr. Jingle, his impressions of this long flight of over eighteen hours.

"For the most part out of sight of land. Never dark. Bright morning mist and fog on the sea. One scare-saw aircraft coming near us. Turned out to be other Catalina. . . . Became colder, overcast and raining. Difficult to avoid icing. . . . Catalina very cramped after normal passenger land plane, extra space being taken up by numerous apparatus, radio, machine-guns, rubber dinghy, sculls. . . . Sat for some time on rubber dinghy. At least elastic. . . . Navigation most accurate, as sun obscured after early morning. . . . Saw nothing all day, neither ships, birds, nor land, until about 4.15 p.m., when large patches of disintegrating, dirty, grey-green ice-floes showed we were leaving Gulf Stream and Barents Sea for White Sea. . . . Passed occasional islands. Flat, deserted, covered moss and seaweed. No apparent life, even birds. Very dreary. . . . Came* down in subsidiary channel near an aerodrome. Difficulty in making buoy. Four shots. Much bad language. . . . Throughout the flight crew on duty. Worked very hard. Produced minute electric grid. Fried egg and bacon breakfast. Tinned soup and meat and vegetable ration and pineapple slice lunch, all under difficult circumstances. . . . After landing taken to moored river steamer. Ceremonial dinner. Good speech by General."

This flight was one of many trips which aircraft of Coastal Command have carried out during this war in order to take Government servants of all kinds to places all over the world. Such a ferry service became of special importance during and after the collapse of France. On 18th June, 1940, for example, a Sunderland took the First Lord of the Admiralty and the First Sea Lord to Bordeaux and brought the First Sea Lord back on the next day. Some days later General Sikorski was taken to this country in a Hudson.

On 25th of that month, another Sunderland carried the Minister of Information and General Lord Gort, V.C., on a mission to Rabat. They were commissioned by His Majesty's Government to go to French Morocco, where several French statesmen, personal friends of Mr. Duff Cooper, were reported to have arrived, in order to discuss the new situation with them and with the local British representatives and to discover what were the prospects of continued resistance in French North Africa.

The flying boat took off about 9.0 o'clock in the morning and reached Rabat at 7.0 that evening. The landing was made in difficult circumstances, for the river on which the Sunderland had to alight was not more than 150 feet wide. Immediately on touching down the pilot had to use his rudder in order to round a bend of the river. A number of French Air Force officers took the pilot and his passenger to the Customs wharf, whence they went to the British Consulate. Here the pilot quitted the party and returned to the flying boat, where he encountered the Harbour Master, who informed him that he must shift it upstream lest it should be in the way of incoming shipping.

This was done, and shortly afterwards a secret signal was received for Lord Gort by the wireless operator. The pilot attempted to go ashore with it in one of the dinghies, but a police boat refused to allow him to do so. The pilot, however, \~as determined to get the message through and made another attempt, which was once more frustrated by the police in their boat.

More desperate measures were necessary. By now it was dark. The captain of the flying boat ordered all lights to be switched on. This would break the strict black-out regulations and would, as he knew, bring the police boat quickly to the scene. It did. On drawing alongside, the pilot and second pilot of the Sunderland jumped on board and forced the police, under the menace of their revolvers, to put them ashore. Protesting, they did so, but stated firmly that the flying boat would be placed under armed guard unless the British officers returned to it immediately. The pilots then tried a ruse. The captain of the flying boat explained in broken French that his companion, the second pilot, was in reality the captain and that he himself had only come ashore in order to obtain provisions for the crew.

The French police were duly deceived and, thinking that they held the man in command, allowed the real captain to go into the town. With a Consular official he went to the British Consulate and subsequently to the hotel to which Lord Gort had been taken. The message was delivered. A few hours later the whole party returned to the flying boat and for the rest of the night the crew remained on watch beside their guns. The Sunderland took off just before dawn and landed its passengers safely at Gibraltar, going thence to England.

Sometimes more pleasant adventures befall those of the Command engaged on this work. While waiting at Archangel to pick up passengers for London, two members of a Catalina crew went shopping. In a large store one of them saw a number of guitars. He bought one and tuned it to the mouth-organ of his companion. They began to play English tunes and sing English songs. Our Russian allies could not compass the words of these, but the melodies were soon upon their lips, and in the store and presently in the street outside "everyone suddenly burst out singing."

The story of many of these flights upon which aircraft of Coastal Command are constantly engaged must remain a secret until the war is won. Their importance is, indeed, obvious. Commanders-in-Chief have no longer to rely entirely on cipher telegrams or long-distance wireless telephone conversations. They can meet together in conference and together discuss the many problems of the war face-to-face across a table. Then, when the talk is over, the decisions taken, they can enter a flying boat or a Hudson of the Command and return to their posts at the various seats of war.