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HMAS Canberra I

Occasional Paper 61: From a Periscope to a Cricket Pitch in a Matter of Days: The Surreal Nature of War

August 2019

By Florence Livery

My father, Panos (known as Pino) George Livery died in 1996.  Fortunately for us, he left behind a very rich source of history, his World War II diary, his collection of photographs and postcards and his unpublished memoirs.  These memoirs include the war years and his life growing up in Ingham, North Queensland.  It is these records that I have used as the basis of this article.

Try to picture this.  It is 1923, big George and tiny Evangelia, with three-month-old Panos and two-year- old Constantine, have just sailed half way across the world from the remote Greek island of Kastellorizo and disembarked at Ingham Railway Station.  Uncle Jimmy had urged them to come to the tropics, to come to North Queensland where they would find their pot of gold.  ‘The rainbow ends here,’ he told them.1  Ingham, a small cane-growing town in the middle of nowhere, the small Greek community at the bottom of the pecking order.

Protestants, Catholics, Italians and last of all, the Greeks.  Before George knew it and after many arguments, Jimmy had left Ingham.  ‘I’m not wasting my time here.  I’m heading south to seek my fortune.2  George and Evangelia were left stranded as three more children arrived in quick succession.  They persevered with their minimal English, worked hard to get by in the tropics as best they could in the face of heat, humidity and floods.  The boys were naughty and mischievous, with boxing lessons by their father a must.  Then along came the 1930s and the Great Depression.  What would save the boys from this?  WWII of course!

Figure 1: Christmas Day 1939 Ingham, Pino honing his boxing skills
Figure 2: mid-1930s Ingham, Evangelia Livery and her 5 children, Pino left rear;

The three older boys could not wait to enlist.  In 1942 Pino enlisted in the Navy, Con was already serving in the Army and a year down the track Argus would join the Air Force.  Three sons at war.

Six months after enlisting, Pino was on board HMAS Canberra in the Pacific Ocean where he faced what I would call his first nightmare.  I must stress that these are my words, not his.  Pino never used such confronting words in his memoirs.  He just told it like a yarn.  To him it was part of the journey.

On 9 August 1942, HMAS Canberra absorbed 24 torpedo hits within two minutes from enemy fire3 and this was only the beginning.  Both boiler rooms were hit and consequently steam to all units immediately failed.  All power for pumps, firefighting and armament had gone.  Pandemonium was magnified as the shellfire hit the gun deck and the bridge where Captain Getting was mortally wounded.  In the fire, rain and dark, the ship listed and the call came to abandon ship. 4 Where was Pino?  Five decks below in the cordite handling room, along with seven others, trapped, the hatch sealed from above for fear of fire spreading and exploding the ammunition.  No power.  No air-conditioning.  No lighting.  Seven men taking it in turns to bang on the hatch with an iron bar, precariously perched on the upper rungs of the ladder.  Fatigued bodies, no ventilation and no upper body strength.  Luckily, over an hour later someone came their way looking for dead bodies, heard the noise and opened the hatch.  The boys eventually got to the top, the fire had spread, the ship was going down fast and other allied vessels were under fire as they attempted to pick up survivors.  To me the most telling part of this story comes next, when Pino said to his mate George Smallwood, after being on the upper deck for a couple of hours, ‘George, I am all wet, buggered and nervy.  I’m getting on the next ship that pulls alongside no matter what.5

Figure 3: The WWII ‘Three Star’ Female Relative Badge issued to Evangelia Livery, July 1945
Figure 4: 1942, Pino, HMAS Cerberus
Figure 5: 1942 Pino, Luna Park, Melbourne

In time, along came USS Blue and George jumped first.  It was only George’s outstretched hand from the other side that got Pino over.  George called out from USS Blue, ‘When the ships become level, jump and grab the handrail and I will grab your hand.  It was only two feet but if misjudged he could have fallen through the gap.  As Pino reflected, ‘The bloke before me missed.6  Imagine what else he saw and tried to erase from his memory.

Pino’s parents received two telegrams.  The first, ‘Sorry your son has died at sea. ’ The second, a few days later, ‘Correction, he survived!’ Pino was granted 14 days Survivor’s Leave – 84 dead, 109 physically injured and an untold number emotionally scarred before his very eyes.

Figure 6: August 1943, Ingham, Pino on Survivor’s Leave

Pino then spent the next few months based at HMAS Brisbane carrying out boom duties whilst patrolling the coastal waters.  On 2 February 1943 he was drafted to HMA London.  The Royal Navy (RN) had offered the Royal Australian Navy (RAN) HMS Shropshire as a replacement for HMAS Canberra.  Pino became a member of the small HMS Wolfe draft, one of several contingents funneled across the world to pick up HMAS Shropshire.

Once Pino was five decks down below wondering whether he would ever see daylight again and several weeks later, on board USS Hermitage (troop transport), he was greeted by the iconic Aloha Towers Lighthouse as they pulled into Honolulu Harbour.  Six hours shore leave gave Pino just enough time to visit Waikiki Beach and be photographed against the artificial backdrop of the velvet green Kalaupapa Cliffs, smooching up to a hula girl, his pal doing likewise to make up the foursome.

Figure 7: February 1943 Hawaii, Pino left

Seeing the world with his mates, a few days later Pino landed at San Francisco, followed by seven wild and wonderful days travelling overland to the east coast.  As one of the boys said, ‘The next seven days were pure luxury for an 18-year-old Ordinary Seaman.’ 7 Imagine the excitement of these young sailors, seeing the Golden Gate Bridge on arrival, then off to places like Reno, Salt Lake City, the Rocky Mountains, Denver, Omaha, Cheyenne, Chicago, Indianapolis and Cincinnati.  There were major stops and minor stops as they travelled in the stylish air-conditioned Pullman rail cars including a porter assigned to each car who attended to their every need.  Meals were taken in the dining car with excellent food, (a welcome break from powdered eggs, salted meat and dehydrated vegetables) and a good night’s sleep was assured as the seats converted to comfortable bunks, (a vast improvement on hammocks).8  The train terminated at Newport News and the boys were then ferried across to the Norfolk Naval Shipyards.

On arrival at Norfolk, Pino and his mates were immediately assigned to HMS Wolfe, a submarine depot ship.  Two days later they pulled out of dock and headed for New York City, sailing up the Hudson River past the Statue of Liberty berthing just a few blocks from Times Square.  Five glorious days in New York awaited them and to fill in those hours on leave, between duties and awaiting orders, the party just got bigger and better!  As Pino said, ‘It was just like a merry-go-round,9  as he saw the sights of New York, movies and shows, dropping in on the Canteens provided by the American Homefront and always ending up at Jack Dempsey’s Bar.  Pino even got a glimpse of his movie idols Dona Drake and Jane Wyman at the Stage Door Canteen.  Careless, reckless and free!  Not bad for a boy from Ingham!

Figure 10: 1943 Postcard, Stagedoor Canteen, New York City
Figures 11 to 13: Samples from Pino’s WWII Comic Postcard Collection

The party however, was about to come to an abrupt end.  On 18 March 1943 HMS Wolfe pulled out of Pier 87, farewelled its neighbour at Pier 88, the 80,000 ton French liner SS Normandie which was lying on its side and steamed down the Hudson River into the Atlantic Ocean.  As they sailed up the coast into Canadian waters they picked up other ships to form Convoy HX230, consisting of 46 merchants and 21 escorts.

As the winds blew a gale and they entered the icy Atlantic waters, little did Pino realize that the two preceding allied convoys, Convoy HX229 and Convoy SC122 were experiencing one of the greatest convoy battles (and German success) of the WWII Atlantic Campaign.  Running in tandem but sailing independently, these two convoys were slaughtered by 38 U-boats from three wolf packs in a single sprawling action.  The double battle involved 90 merchant ships and 16 escort ships.  More than 300 allied seamen died and 22 allied merchant ships were sunk whilst one U-boat went down, taking with it all 49 of its crew.  Wanting to follow-up promptly on these successes, Admiral Karl Donitz formed two new wolf packs and assigned them to the mid- Atlantic Air Gap.  Convoy HX230 was identified in radio intelligence as the target of these two packs – the 17 strong Seeteufel (Sea Devil) and the 19 strong Seewolf (Sea Wolf).10  Nightmare number two for Pino was about to commence!

Surrounded by a false sense of security, Pino initially did not fear the U-boats, even though whilst on board Lord Haw Haw11 used his scare tactics over the airwaves, ‘You will not reach Scotland.  Our U-boats packs will get you!

Figure 14: March 1943 HMS Wolfe, Pino preparing to cross the Atlantic

The following extracts from Pino’s 1990 memoirs13 interwoven with entries from his 1943 war diary however, reveal the emotional rollercoaster Pino experienced whilst crossing the Atlantic.

…We were right in the middle of the pack and the ocean was so rough that I thought they could not possibly line us up.  At best, I thought, the stragglers could be knocked off but even then, it would be difficult as one minute they were on waves that took them up 60 feet and the next minute they were on waves that took them down 70 feet.  At times we were going every which way – forwards, backwards, up and down, port to starboard.  You could not even see the ship next to you, that’s how rough the Atlantic was and try sitting down and eating from a plate! Impossible and this went on for a week, day in, day out.

…But even in blustering and squalling conditions somehow the U-boats did get amongst us.  The corvettes worked overtime but the best they could do was to rescue the survivors before the ocean swallowed them up.  No other ship could stop, otherwise they would be sitting targets for a torpedo.  The U-boats would stay and sort out their prey until the corvettes came along, when they would quickly dive away.  All the poor corvettes could do was to drop a depth charge and hasten away.  The U-boats were doing exactly as they pleased.

Diary entry 25 March 1943 – ‘Sighted iceberg, ship’s steering broke, ship nearly overturned’’

…At dusk on 25 March 1943, in very cold and troubled conditions, our captain advised us that HMS Wolfe’s steering had gone amiss and immediately placed all personnel to action stations, warning that because of the rough seas and lack of steering, to be prepared for anything, even to abandon ship.

Diary entry 26 March 1943 – ‘Everyone frightened, submarines around us and destroyers signaling, ships blowing sirens …. .  Couldn’t sleep that night, ordered to sleep in clothes. ’

 …The hooter blew constantly as we gradually fell behind the convoy.  Soon we were all alone.  At least, by now it was night.  A corvette came close by, more of a gesture of help as the sea was tossing it around like a tennis ball.  Scared and frightened, we thought that the end was near, especially when waves with such massive force covered the ship.  At times the ship was absolutely swamped but miraculously it came up, again and again.  That was the night of nights.  No steering, U-boats, weather that was too rough to call stormy and on daybreak the convoy was lost from sight.  By now, we had not slept for 48 hours and had eaten very little, but we did manage a little drop of rum to settle our nerves.  Being an RN ship we received our daily ration of Jamaican Rum.  You could feel it doing you good.  

…The engineers worked on.  By late morning, to our relief, our captain advised us that all had been repaired and we would hasten to join the convoy.  24 hours later we had repositioned ourselves as near to the centre as possible.

Diary entry 28 March 1943 – ‘Liberty ship hit by torpedo, drops back, can’t say if sunk ….  Played poker all night, couldn’t sleep, too rough;’

…On nearing Iceland the convoy changed course to east south-east as the five Canadian corvettes were replaced by two British corvettes… but the reality of it all was said by the Pommy sailor on my watch, ‘Look chum, every trip you make across the Atlantic is in the laps of the Gods. ’ I really believed him.  I was wrong to underestimate the power of the U-boats.  No matter how rough the seas were the U-boats were always there, their periscopes skirting the outer edges of the convoy.  They took their time and knocked off the larger ships, not bothering about the smaller ones, targeting the American Liberty cargo ships, which they knew would be worth their while.

Diary entry 29 March 1943 – ‘Sight aircraft from land bases, everyone happy;’

…However, it soon became a different story the day land-based aircraft took over patrolling the convoy.  What a relief it was to see them flying over.  All that day I did not see one periscope through the binoculars.  To see one periscope was bad enough but to see two or three on the one day was terrifying.  They just hunted in packs and now I say, 45 years later, thank God the seas were so threatening.

On 2 April 1943 HMS Wolfe split from the convoy, headed for Scotland and sailed up the Clyde River.  At Gourock, the Shropshire draftees farewelled their pals and caught the train to London.  With just enough time to have supper at the Westminster YMCA and squeeze in a look around the abbey they boarded the night train to Chatham Naval Dockyards, Kent where Pino first met HMS Shropshire.

Diary entry 2 April 1943 – ‘She looked like a factory, dirty, old and it was in a stinkin’ condition, looked like a scrapheap. ’

For three long months Pino was stationed at Chatham waiting for the Shropshire’s refit to be completed, confirming his initial impressions.  A massive job was required.

Although Captain JA Collins RAN assumed command on 7 April 1943 and she was commissioned as HMAS Shropshire on 20 April 1943, HMS Shropshire was not formally handed over to the RAN until 25 June 1943.  During this period, although they were officially part of the Shropshire crew and slept on board, all of the services were provided in the dockyard, and depending on the stage of the refit and the associated changing basins, at times the crew had to walk several hundred yards for messing and toiletries.14  Hundreds of dockyard workers swarmed the ship which made living conditions uncomfortable and disconcerting.  The weather and continual air-raids were also not conducive to a happy crew.15

Pino was assigned to the port of the ship and the usual paint chipping, painting and cleaning was the order of the day as well as never ending training courses (radar, gunnery, damage control and training cruises on other ships), not to mention regular pep talks by Captain Collins as he attempted to keep the crew motivated and occupied.  There were visits and addresses by dignitaries such as Stanley Bruce, the Australian High Commissioner and Doctor Evatt, the Australian Minister for External Affairs.  Even Lord Haw Haw spoke to the crew, albeit indirectly, when he was heard to say on German radio on 18 May 1943 that the Shropshire would never reach Australia because they knew the departure date.

Figure 15: 1943, Pino’s paybook, HMA London Depot

What did the crew do for these three months?  Evidence from Pino’s war diary is very scant during this time but a look through his WWII pictorial collection and his 1985 travel diary17 suggest that although they were kept busy by day, the crew were allowed plenty of leave, both daily after 1600 hours and overnight to relieve their boredom and tensions.

Diary entry early June 1943 – ‘We used to go to London every weekend and go into the town of Chatham every week day; also had six days leave, went to Edinburgh, very nice, seen bridge and Lock Lomond. ’

His postcard collection indicates that Pino certainly saw all of the major sights of London including the ruins caused by the Blitz.  Off to Scotland for six days in late April, Pino also witnessed the sights of Edinburgh and the surrounding countryside.  Several addresses in his log book also suggest a little female company did not go astray including a Miss A Young of Edinburgh and a Miss C Cliphane of Friarton, Perth.

Figure 16: April 1943 visit to The Firth of Forth, Edinburgh, Pino 2nd from right
Figure 17:1943 Postcard from the Forth Bridge, Edinburgh
Figure 18: 1943 London postcard depicting the ruins caused by the Blitz
Figure 19: 1943 reverse of London postcard, message from the Prime Minister

Pino’s real love however, was not the big cities, rather the local town centres of Chatham and Gillingham.  This feeling resurfaced in 1985 when he visited the area including the naval dockyards and of course the many pubs and taverns he frequented during those hours on leave.

Diary entry 20 September 1985 – ‘I was determined to find that little tavern I drank in many years ago, the Prince of Orange and find it I did, but it was finished as a tavern as it had a For Sale sign on it.  Inside was the carpenter busy at work but the signage and the building were how I remembered it, still the same, a little older, but still there.  It certainly brought back memories and a little tear to my eye.18As I researched this story and immersed myself into my father’s experiences it is about this period of time, maybe late May 1943 that I could sense things were taking a different course for Pino (and possibly other crew members) as the protracted refit just kept on going.  Was he homesick?  Was the lack of action making him restless?  Was he not satisfied or at the very best relieved, to face tedium in his daily routine rather than face the unknown in crossing the Atlantic or Pacific Oceans?  Did he expect a repeat of his experiences traversing America?  By now Pino’s diary entries were brief and irregular, even his memoirs in later life went no further than returning home with HMAS Shropshire, yet he spent well over two more years in active service.

Figure 20: 1985 Chatham, Pino returned to his old stomping ground, including The Prince of Orange Tavern

Was the surreal nature of war one that he now expected?

Short and sharp experiences, taking the good with the bad?  Could it have been that Pino’s previous highs could not get any higher and his previous lows not get any lower?

 

But little did Pino realise that he had one more high awaiting him, one of a very different kind and one that would be associated with the game of cricket!

 

By late May 1943 it appeared that the Shropshire’s refit was never-ending.  It was progressing as best it could but there were continual delays due to problems with the supply of equipment.  With no deadline in sight, around early June 1943, an Australian Rules football match was organized between the RAN and RAAF.  The result is unknown but it proved a tonic for a lot of lonely Australians in the United Kingdom.19  It was possibly with this backdrop that Chief Petty Officer (Telegraphist) Eric Moran thought of Pino after the idea was raised about the Shropshire forming a cricket team to play against the English.

Eric Moran was one of the more senior members of the small HMS Wolfe draft.  Maybe it was during those days as they travelled across America or maybe, as they crossed the Atlantic in order to distract their fear that Eric, Pino and another HMS Wolfe draftee Ron Liddicut shared their mutual passion and recounted their skill and exploits in cricket.  Pino was a very talented cricketer, short in stature but fearless and fast with the ball.  According to his post-war cricket captain Jack Kios, ‘Pino was a very fast and angry bowler who opened our attack, a better bowler than batsman but still mean and handy with the bat.20

Maybe it was all of those years in Ingham, with his three brothers and their mates, living opposite the railway station with its tracks, yards, platforms and carriages the perfect venue for a game of cricket? This array of improvised pitches and arenas, (along with a tin as a wicket and any piece of wood they could find as a bat) ensured that ‘game was on’ as soon as they got home from school.

….  Our home was situated in Lynch Street right opposite the railway station so most of our free time was spent hanging out on the tracks and carriages.  Our cricket pitch was often on the platform or inside the carriages, hiding under the tarpaulins when the station hands came along.  Broken windows and being warned off countless times by the police did not deter us.  We still returned.  As competitive as hell, you could always be assured that each game ended up in arguments and fights but still the next day we would meet our mates for a re-match, mainly because we gave as much back as we received.21

The Livery brothers also played cricket in the local competitions during the early war years before they signed up, although at times it was difficult to put a side together.  In those days anyone who could hold a bat managed to make it onto the team.  Prior to this the boys played for their school, Ingham State Primary, their arch rival being the local convent school.  Their coach, Ivor Middleton, the Grade VI and Scholarship teacher was paradoxically good at using the cane but also clever at challenging the boys, well aware of their competitive nature.  Pino recalled how one day at practice he put a two-shilling piece on top of the wicket and dared anyone to knock it off by bowling him.  Mickey Pugh’s first ball sent the stumps flying!

On 23 June 1943 Eric Moran accepted an offer and scrambled together a cricket team to play the Harrods team at Lord’s Cricket Ground.  The HMAS Shropshire team included both officers and ratings.  Captained by Eric and supported by Stoker G Faulkner as Vice-Captain, the side included Lieutenant LS Austin, Sub-Lieutenant JD Irvine, Petty Officers G Aungle, EJ Harkness, and R McLean, Able Seamen PG Livery and AG Mountford and Writer RH Liddicut.  Harrods provided the 11th man.

It was only because of Eric’s position and standing (later to be Mentioned in Dispatches) that they were allowed to participate and take leave to go to St John’s Wood.  Time was extremely limited.  It was the last few days before HMAS Shropshire was officially handed over to the RAN.  They were about to sail home via trials at Scapa Flow.  Many jobs still had to be urgently done to complete the refit and all hands were on deck in the heavy rain, doing a complete repaint, taking on final supplies and conducting final training exercises to check equipment. 22

Both umpires were provided by Harrods as HMAS Shropshire would not release another crew member.

It was meant to be a fun game and fun it was, particularly for the Shropshire lads.  Eric was later told that Harrods had ‘rung in a couple of ex-internationals,23 each playing under an alias.  A Mr White was later identified as champion Middlesex and English bowler JM Sims.24  The other ‘ring in’ has yet to be identified.  Did they play under an alias so as to disguise their unfair advantage or was it because that even elite cricket players could not be seen to be enjoying themselves during war time?  The morale of the country was a high priority and even though cricket was seen as a great morale booster it was a fine balance between sport and war.  The match between England and the Dominions played at Lord’s a few weeks later on 2-3 August 1943 was evidence of how important the game of cricket was to England’s soul.  38,000 people viewed this exciting spectacle where 950 runs were scored and 35 wickets fell.25

After the game the Shropshire boys enjoyed a quick meal with their opponents and railed back to Chatham that evening.  Poor Ron Liddicut could enjoy no such luxury as he was immediately ordered back to the ship and missed the post-match photo shoot.  As for the result, needless to say that the Harrods team easily won.  Eric recalled that ‘our chaps knocked up more than 100 runs between them.26   He alone made 29.27

HMAS Canberra (1) and her White Ensign

Some months ago the Naval Historical Society (NHS) was approached by Mrs Kylie Lee from Toowoomba, who from her mother’s estate came into possession of a white ensign from HMAS Canberra circa 1942, and Mrs Lee wished to donate the flag to the RAN.

Mrs Lee’s mother had received the flag from Stephen St George, an Able Seaman on board Canberra, who salvaged the ensign before his ship sank on 9 August 1942 at the Battle of Savo Island. In later life the mother, who became friendly with Mr St George, was executor of his estate and when he died in 1987 was instructed to place the flag over his coffin and then retain it for posterity.

HMAS Canberra (1) Ensign presented by Mrs Lee to the RAN with insert of markings on ensign.

Mrs Lee visited Garden Island on Monday 04 June when the ensign was transferred to CMDR Burroughs on behalf of the NHS and we received a notebook containing manuscript and typewritten notes of made by AB St George of his exploits in Canberra. There was also a copy of a 1987 obituary from a local newspaper, which is summarised below.

Toowoomba’s inimitable Steve St George has gone and amateur radio is very much the loser with the death on 10 July of “VK4 Sugar Easy”, as he wished to be known. This entertaining raconteur finally lost his last battle against illness which plagued him for the past few years.

He was born in 1916 and his RAN service began on enlistment in 1934. He saw service in various naval vessels including the cruisers HMA Ships Canberra and Shropshire. During WW11 he was aboard Canberra when she was sunk at the Battle of Savo Island. The ship’s ensign which draped the casket at his funeral was heroically rescued by him just before the sinking. Very few of his friends knew of his dedication to the naval tradition and the part he played.

As a civilian he retained his interest in radio and television and worked for the ABC in Toowoomba and Sydney as well as for the local commercial and interstate stations. After his retirement he became very interested in amateur radio and was a foundation member of the Darling Downs Radio Club, a past president and long-time member.

Steve’s wife predeceased him 18 years ago. He is survived by his daughter Anne and son John. The large representation of district amateurs and ex-servicemen at the funeral service was an indication of their high regard for their colleague.  

Unfortunately, Steve’s copious notes which appear to have been compiled in 1974, many years after the event, have no mention of removal of the ensign. The white ensign, contemporary with those found in war-time cruisers, is in very good condition and fitted with Inglefield clips.  At the top of the hoist it bears the initials of the Commonwealth Government Clothing Factory (CGCF), the letters RAN with a broad arrow, and, Ensign White 6 Breath.

In reading Steve’s notes we gain the impression of a Three Badge Able Seaman who expresses himself with plenty of lower deck jargon and the possible resentment of authority by someone who could have made more of his life in the RAN. His service records show he made Acting Leading Seaman but only held the rate for a short while and, he was recommended for Radio Mechanic training, but this came to nothing.   Still an Able Seaman he was discharged in 1949 after 15 years’ service.

Stephen St George did however serve in HMAS Canberra and from his own testimony and that of others did sterling work in the care for wounded when his ship was critically damaged by first enemy and then friendly fire. In escaping from the inferno he entered the water and attempted to cut free life rafts which had become entangled and later found space in a Carley float before being rescued by the destroyer USS Blue. Most of those rescued were taken to Noumea before joining the troopship General Grant and then brought back to Sydney. Many of these men including Able Seaman St George later joined HMAS Shropshire and performed with distinction in the latter part of the Pacific War.

Further mention of Stephen St George is to be found in Kathryn Spurling’s book “HMAS Canberra – Casualty of Circumstance” published by New Holland in 2016. From this it appears that her research had taken her to the above mentioned note books. A summary of Kathryn’s description on pages 211 and 212 is enlightening.

During the Battle of Savo Island it was not necessarily the most likely who demonstrated initiative and courage. AB Stephen St George whose background and heritage was as problematic as his RAN service card, had been referred to in many disparaging ways, the least offensive being ‘larrikin’. Resilience may have been the best way to describe this young man as he aided many in the early hours of 9 August. A member of the “Y” turret shell handling crew, he was knocked off his feet by an explosion. He then wrenched open the magazine door to allow the men below an exit before struggling with others to lift “X” turret hatch to free more. He and another AB carried the men to a medical post. St George continued to search for wounded and found the badly wounded PO James Haining.

Later St George told a Board of Enquiry administered by high ranking RAN officers that they should ensure ‘there was a drastic revision of the type of stretcher’ employed on warships because he found assembling a stretcher for PO Haining was ‘more difficult’ than assembling a radio set. St George ferreted below decks for rope which he sliced up for bucket brigades helping subdue fires on the upper deck. He visited any cabin, including those of senior officers, helping himself to anything which could cover the wounded. Returning to the first medical post, he found two Stokers he had carried, now dead. For other wounded he scavenged cigarettes and then located the beer and gave them a glass each. St George offered one of the Chaplains a beer but he refused. ‘I drank his share’. He was then asked to find blankets so again he picket his way through debris, falling through a hole or two, being burnt by steam, until he could raid the Pay Commander’s cabin and grabbed an armful. On the way out he helped himself to a greatcoat because his coat was wet.    

One of the earlier narratives on the life of this ship “HMAS Canberra” by Alan Payne was published by the Naval Historical Society of Australia in 1973, when numerous survivors were available to provide first-hand accounts of their experiences, including Stephen St George. This small volume with a print run of 1000 copies must have been popular as it was reprinted in 1991. The book also provides a summary of Canberra’s war-time service with considerable time spent in the Indian Ocean during the early part of the war, it was not until June 1942 that she joined Task Force 44 and saw service in the Pacific theatre leading to the Battle of Savo Island. At least two short refits were undertaken in Sydney and she was under refit at the time of the attack on Pearl Harbour in December 1941 and again at a buoy in Sydney in May 1942 when Japanese midget submarines attacked the harbour.

Stephen St George was a colourful character who could be capable of many things including ‘liberating’ useful come in handy material which may well have included a naval ensign. The Battle of Savo Island was a life and death situation and according to St George’s notes he had been in a Carley float before being rescued by USS Blue– this is hardly the time to have been worrying about an ensign.

Summary

The ensign is in very good condition and if it has been flown by a warship then only very briefly, not what is expected from the wreck of a ship that has been ravaged by torpedo and shell fire and subject to raging fires on the upper deck. The ensign however appears contemporary with the early 1940s and obviously meant much to Stephen St George. There is no obvious reason to doubt that it came from HMAS Canberra but the timing of its removal from the ship appears dubious. Could this ensign have been ‘liberated’ from a flag locker during a refit in Sydney just before her final voyage to Savo Island?

 

 

Book Review: HMAS Canberra – Casualty of Circumstance

By Kathryn Spurling, Publishers New Holland, Sydney, 2016. Paperback, 255 pp with b & w illustrations, maps and portraits. Available most bookshops from $33.00 with discounts available.

The author served in the WRANS then devoted her career to history. For 15 years she was on the staff of ADFA and she has published histories of HMAS Perth Iand Bomber Command during World War II. This book covers the story of the County Class cruiser, HMAS Canberra, from building in 1928, commissioning, service during the financially constrained years of the Great Depression and preparation for operational service from 1939. The Washington Treaty of 1922 sought to prevent another arms race among the major navies by limiting naval construction. To wriggle within constraints of the treaty the County class cruisers were built without 100 mm of armour plating, a common feature of heavy cruisers of the day. As the dark clouds preceding World War II gathered, armour plating was added to HMAS Australia, but not Canberra. All three services were drastically reduced during the 1930s and the RAN was diluted to 3200 officers and men to retain two heavy cruisers and two destroyers in commission. During those years Canberra was limited to home waters, showing the flag and training ordinary seamen emerging from Recruit School at Flinders Naval Depot. Examples of a lackadaisical Navy have been taken from journals, letters and interviews. Unrest on the lower deck was aggravated by reduced rates of pay, poor food and personnel policies the author relates to the Naval Board’s strict adherence to attitudes in the RN that had failed to keep pace with a changing society. All impacted on the operational effectiveness of the Navy. There are many references to aspects of junior officers’ training which required them to spend many years serving in ships and training establishments of the RN, implying that thismouldedtheir attitudes more closely to the stratifications of British society, thus creating officers who did not suit the mores of the less stratified society from which Australia’s ratings were recruited. Ratings that had transferred from the RN were preferred to men who had been recruited and trained locally. Aspects of class related attitudes are also mentioned when covering senior officers loaned from the RN during the 1920s and ’30s.

Following the declaration of war in 1939, Canberra’s Engineer Officer, Commander (E) ‘Spanner’ McMahon, made numerous appeals to his superiors to highlight inadequate maintenance and modifications. He warned of the reduced levels of skill and experience arising from rushed training and erratic drafting policies. The outbreak of war saw Canberra involved in convoy duties, a role that irked her ship’s company as they followed the active involvement of their colleagues in the Mediterranean. Her only action prior August 1942 was to force the scuttling of two German support ships in the Indian Ocean.

Following Pearl Harbor and the invasion of Malaya and the Philippines, the military might of Japan continued unabated. By early May 1942 the Japanese were established at Rabaul and had landed in Tulagi in the Solomon Islands to strengthen their plans to continue on to Port Moresby. Although the battle of the Coral Sea interrupted Japan’s plans for Port Moresby, the Solomons had to be secured to stem the tide. The first amphibious operation by Allied forces in the Pacific was planned in mid-July to achieve this goal. A force of 48 warships and 27 transports formed to land US Marines at Guadalcanal. Canberraand HMA Ships Australia and Hobart formed part of this task force. The landing of the Marines was lightly opposed, then followed by an air strike from Rabaul that was repelled. A Japanese fleet of cruisers and destroyers sailed from Rabaul and was able to attack part of the Allied force without warning. Poor intelligence, poor communications between American and Australian ships, delayed and unheeded information from RAAF patrols and coast watchers resulted in Canberracoming under heavy fire during the middle watch of 9 August. Canberratook 29 shells within two minutes. The boiler room fans were destroyed leaving the ship without steam and electrical power. Two hours later USS Patterson came alongside to assist with firefighting and rescue of ship’s company. Subsequently USS Chicago opened fire before realising she had a friendly target. The Japanese sank four cruisers and severely damaged one cruiser and two destroyers with a heavy loss of life, whilst losing just 53 of their own men. The press in Australia attempted to present the disaster in favourable terms; however Commander Walsh, XO of Canberra, admitted the Allies had grossly underestimated the Japanese who had proved to be an efficient and daring fighting force.

Controversy followed as various authorities ducked for cover and Americans wanted to know why an English Admiral (Crutchley) had commanded ships of the USN. Both the USN and the RAN conducted boards of inquiry. Admiral Hepburn, USN concluded that there was inadequate preparedness for night attack, failure to recognise the implications of the presence of enemy aircraft, poor communications and intelligence and that the US carrier force had withdrawn at a critical time. Rear Admiral Muirhead-Gould in Sydney greeted survivors with ‘You should be ashamed, losing your ship without firing a shot.’ His board was made aware of the poor preparedness of Canberra through lack of modernisation, limited maintenance, rushed training and turbulence in changes to ship’s company. The board members seemed unable to comprehend the situation in a ship that was without power, on fire and listing with a tenth of her company dead. The author closes with ‘Eighty-four men onboard HMAS Canberra died. They and the families they left behind were casualties of circumstances beyond their control.’

This book gives an extensive coverage of the RAN during the Great Depression and how our Navy was left ill-prepared for the conflict ahead. In general it is a well prepared naval history. Regrettably this book has been poorly edited by someone lacking a maritime experience and there are quite a few minor errors which may cause a smile to those with a naval background.

 

Reviewed by J.W. Ellis

 

Book Review: A Very Rude Awakening

A Very Rude Awakening: The night the Japanese midget subs came to Sydney Harbour.
By Peter Grose
Allen & Unwin

Reviewed by Tim Duchesne

On 31 May 1942, three cruisers, two large troop transports, two destroyers, three corvettes and one submarine were in Sydney Harbour. Additionally, many smaller craft charged with Harbour Defence were at various states of readiness. The most important vessels present, and therefore the prime targets in any attack, were the cruisers USS Chicago and HMAS Canberra.

Apart from the harbour defence craft, all those ships were enjoying a short break from operations at sea, and carrying out the hundred and one maintenance and repair tasks which cannot be done whilst underway. The young men on board them were a mix of a small minority of long-service professionals who had joined in peacetime and to whom service of one’s country at sea in a disciplined fighting service had great appeal – particularly at a time of high unemployment – and a much greater majority who had either volunteered or had been called up for the duration of hostilities. With few exceptions, the harbour defence craft, whose role was to prove so crucial that night and next morning, were manned by sketchily trained Reserve officers and sailors consigned to what was very much the second eleven in the Navy’s Order of Battle.

As dusk fell on Sydney on Sunday 31 May 1942, these men were for the most part unaware that at about 4 am the previous morning, a small float plane was heard and seen to fly round the harbour, paying particular attention to the Chicago. That plane had been launched from a Japanese submarine about 70 kms northeast of North Head. The plane capsized and sank on landing in rising seas on its return to its mother ship, but its pilot and observer survived and reported the number and positions of the major ships in Sydney Harbour. So far as our people were concerned at the time, no particular significance was attached to this apparent ‘joy-flight’ by some unknown little float plane.

What followed the next night when three midget submarines penetrated the harbour was a text-book example of ‘the fog of war’. Clarification was not helped by both the Captain of Chicago and the Rear Admiral-in-Charge Sydney, at about midnight, repairing from a dinner party in the Admiral’s residence ‘Tresco’, by their individual gig and barge, to the Chicago and Channel Patrol Boat Lolita respectively, insisting that no submarines were in the harbour and demanding to know why guns were being fired and depth charges dropped. Events rapidly enlightened them.

Peter Grose has teased out a logical and convincing narrative of events by dint of comprehensive and painstaking research which he has further enlivened with the provision of historical background and many personal accounts which, I am sure, have for the first time been brought together in one coherent and fascinating story. In Sydney Harbour at the time, communications were primitive and derisory, and any meaningful command and control by the standards of today was impossible.

We must beware of the trap of hindsight and bear in mind the equipment limitations under which our predecessors strove to do their best. Nonetheless, preparations and organisation could have been much better and leadership at the highest level could have been much more effective. In the event, a daring and very brave attack was contained and beaten by a combination of good luck initially and then by a determined and spirited response by many individuals. The story of that extraordinary night and its historical, operational and personal context has been extremely well told by this author. I thoroughly recommend this book.

 

HMS Danae in Adelaide – Christmas 1936

In 1944/45 John Burfield was Lieutenant in Command HMS Byron, but in 1936 he was a Midshipman aboard HMS Danae. He gave me this account of Christmas in South Australia, 1936 – taken largely from his Midshipman’s Journal, which was written up at the time.

WE HAD THE HONOUR of being sent to Adelaide to represent the Royal Navy at the South Australia Centenary celebrations in 1936, together with HMAS Canberra, some destroyers who were also on the China Station, and HMAS Yarra. On the morning of Christmas Eve we landed two platoons of sailors and the Royal Marine Band (in those days every cruiser had a Marine Band), together with some of Canberra’s sailors for a March Past in the city. I have a photograph of the event of us all looking very regimental with Canberra in the background. Then, during the evening, the ship was decorated with gum tree branches – as it was summer in Australia and holly and mistletoe being somewhat out of season.

On Christmas Day morning it is traditional for Captain’s Rounds to be conducted by a posse of the ship’s youngest ratings who make the customary tour round the ship. I have a photograph of our troupe that Christmas. On the left is Boy Hare in the Master at Arms frock coat and sword, next to him is Boy Roberts in the Commander’s jacket and then comes Makee Learnee Sometimes who was the youngest of the Chinese crewmen, about twelve I should think, who polished the brass strips on the quarterdeck but who intended to work his way upwards; he is wearing the Captain’s coat. Then there is Boy Roberts dressed as Commander (E).

Christmas Day 1923, HMS Danae, Captain’s Rounds Posse
Christmas Day 1923, HMS Danae,
Captain’s Rounds Posse

Then lunch, and Pipe Down. In the afternoon four of us from Danae and two chums from Canberra played tennis with Mr. and Mrs. Walters who lived about ten miles outside Adelaide in the heart of the wine growing country. We were shown round the cellar, reputed to be the first to be built in South Australia. It was built under a mound of earth, with seaweed lining the roof to keep the wine – brandy actually – cool. We were all invited to stay the night so we rang up the ship and got permission from the Torpedo Officer to get the first bus in the morning. We spent the night on camp beds on the verandah – All Night In, unheard of for a Midshipman!

On Monday 28th December, Danae left harbour in company with Canberra and set course for Glenelg, about twenty miles down the coast. We anchored and dressed the ship overall. Then we laid on a little pageant representing the landing of the first Governor of South Australia in 1836 from HMS Buffalo. There is a monument at the end of the pier commemorating the event. The high point from the point of view of our seaboat’s crew was the necessity of carrying the ladies ashore to keep their feet, and dresses, dry.

In the evening the Wardroom, and the Gunroom, were invited to a Reception at the Continental Hall, Wayville where we were introduced to the Premier, the Hon. Butler and his good lady wife.

Tuesday, 29th December. The ship was illuminated overall with lights around the ship’s hull and up over the masts, and the searchlights sweeping around. The ship’s company had a Ball at Glenelg.

On New Year’s Eve two of us went up onto the bridge and blew 1936 away with a fanfare on the sirens, after which Mid. Main rang 16 bells on the quarterdeck to be followed by bacon and scrambled eggs in the wardroom.

New Year’s Day, 1937. A Reception on board for HE the Governor and Lady Duggan, Lord and Lady Hartington the Premier of South Australia and Mrs. Butler.

The quarterdeck was screened off with canvas, and the canvas disguised by all the signal flags we had. The Captain gave a speech extolling the virtues of the Royal Navy and the British shipping which it protected and the Premier replied to the effect that he would pass this information on to the South Australian Education Board.

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