laststandonzombieisland

80 years ago today. Official caption: “Christmas With The Trawlers. 21 December 1943, Harwich. members of the Escort Trawler HMS Turquoise (T45) prepare to make the most of Christmas afloat.”

The crew had much to celebrate.

Built at Southbank-on-Tees by Smith’s Dock (Yard No. 986) for the Warwickshire Fishing Co of Grimsby, the 460-ton trawler was instead purchased on the ways in November 1935 by the Royal Navy for conversion to a “Gem” class Anti Submarine Escort.

When war came, His Majesty’s Trawler Turquoise was based in Harwich, as seen above, for North Sea convoy escort duties, armed with depth charges and a single 4-inch deck gun forward and Lewis gun aft.

During her full service, for the duration from 1939 through VE Day, she sailed 72,000 miles underway and was an escort in part for something like 215 convoys comprising 6,400 ships totaling over 15 million tons.

Adopted by Gwmbren UD Wales during the war, she fought in at least two clashes with German E-boats, carried BEF troops home from Dunkirk, and helped salvage 11 naval and merchant ships, pulling 150 survivors from the water.

An account of her E-boat fight in 1942, via “Trawlers Go to War”:

Seaman Davies:

‘Each of our convoy trips had its moments of excitement with the usual attacks by aircraft, but this one was really special. Our charge numbered 72 ships, including tankers, the largest convoy to date. It had been a balmy sunny day and the second dog­watch came round with one of those glorious sunsets travel agents speak of, on a calm, oily sea. It all seemed rather unreal, until shortly after my arrival on duty at the twin point‑five aft the alarm went, and over on the far side of the convoy the fire­work display of tracers etched their wonderful pattern in the evening dusk. The tine was 6 p.m. It wasn’t long before we were engaging enemy aircraft, Heinkel 113s, and the sky now seemed full of these roaring, bar‑like messengers of death. Our entire ship was shrouded in gunsmoke and the pungent smell of burnt cordite hung in the still air. One lost all sense of time and between the frantic bursts of firing, of near misses, it seemed that an unearthly, ghost‑like silence descended over the area of the sea with Turquoise appearing motionless. The moon was now shining and suddenly the four‑inch crew shouted “E‑boat ‑Green 10, sir!”

‘At this time the angle was too acute for us to see the German, but our forward guns were letting fly. In the starboard wing, manning the Lewis gun was the steward, a Cockney veteran of World War 1. He was a four‑foot‑nothing man and had a beer crate to stand on, and we could see him up on his crate blazing away. Now the E‑boat was in sight at 80 yards, the whine of bullets was loud in the air and the thud of them finding a home in the padding round the bridge sounded clear above the tur­moil. Our little steward raked the German gunners at their guns and, doll‑like; they fell over and firing ceased from her. She was now running broadside on to us and our guns methodically raked her, then as she sheered away from us one had the impression that she was finished. But before we had time to collect scattered thoughts a cool voice ordered “Shift target ‑aircraft bearing Green 90, angle of sight 20 degrees”.

‘The rest of the night wore on ‑ “Load, open fire, shift target” ‑ until the sun came up over the horizon, bathing the sea with its shimmering yellow light. “Stand down ‑ tea up!” Blessed relief. Now was the time to feel scared. Later the Rich­mond came over and congratulated us on defeating the E‑boat, which had sunk some hours after the action. Some of the Germans had been rescued.

‘On our return to Harwich we were given twenty‑four hours excused duty and a bottle of beer each. Later our CO (Lieu­tenant C. M. Newns, RNVR) received the DSC, and there were four Mentions in Despatches. One of these was for the steward, who had been more instrumental than anyone in saving casualties among our ship’s company. My wife sent me a telegram: “Heard news on wireless ‑‑ write ‑ worried.” The news item she had heard stated that a large‑scale air and sea attack on a big East Coast convoy had been repulsed with the loss of only seven ships … HMT Turquoise pursued and sank an E‑boat. “Pursued” be damned with a 7‑knot trawler!”

Post-war, she was sold into mercantile service first with St Andrews Steam Fisheries of Hull as F/V St.Oswald, then in 1948 to Grimsby Merchants’ Amalgamated as Woolton, and finally to Wyre Trawlers, eventually renamed Wyre Woolton.

She was broken up in 1957 at Preston.

Just three weeks after the above photos were snapped, Turquoise was back on escort duty.

Of the 800 odd trawlers from the Hull and Grimsby fishing fleets in 1939, about a quarter remained in commercial service harvesting the ocean while the rest were requisitioned by the Admiralty and eventually over 2,000 fishing boats became HMTs. Most retained their former crews with the captain given the previously unknown rank of Skipper, Royal Navy Reserve, with the highest rank available being Skipper Lieutenant, RNR.

Nearly a quarter of the British trawling fleet perished in WWII, with no less than 260 HMTs lost in the conflict. 

Some 2,385 officers and men of the Royal Naval Patrol Service aged from sixteen to the late sixties, fathers, sons, brothers, and cousins, who died in the service of their country and found ‘no grave but the sea’.