People in Action

Walter's War - an electrical officer in the Second World War

Walter Gower Huggett was destined for the Royal Navy, being born in Rodney Road, New Maiden, Surrey, in 1912, early enough to be able to recall a Zeppelin raid over London during the First World War. His father was a respected engineer who founded the Express Lift Co, and his mother was a well known concert singer. Opting out of university in favour of his father's firm, Walter became an engineering pupil which translated to work as a fitter's mate during lift installation work, and a trainee draughtsman in the marine department which his father ran as a separate team that designed and built aircraft carrier lifts for the Royal Navy.

Evening study at Wimbledon Technical College gained him a HNC in electrical Engineering and an ONC in Mechanical Engineering, but concern about being the 'bosses son' made him, to his father's regret, leave Express and join London Metal Wardhouses Ltd (his uncle's firm) briefly before moving to Sheffield with Firth Vickers and Firth Brown and Sheffield University. Ipswich followed (Manganese Bronze and Brass Co) where, at the Hanford Works, he produced a technical report on which was lodged as a research report at HMS Osprey.

Walter had returned to London in 1938 as a technical rep for MB&BC (which seemed to take second place to his sport which included rowing for Kingston at Henley). However Neville Chamberlain's return from Hitler convinced him that it was only a matter of time and this prompted him to join the Service of his choice, before that choice was denied him.

Ordinary Signalman RNVR in HMS President, moored off the Embankment, was a start, and subsequent promotion to Signalman Q (qualified) sounded grander than it subsequently proved to be in the real world of war at sea. HMS Iron Duke for sea training in 1939 was a massive anti-climax as it actually was in a Portsmouth dry dock at the time. However when the war was imminent Walter went from HMS President to Chatham, and thence to Lowestoft and finally Grimsby to await an Icelandic trawler to arrive. The fish was literally unloaded and the boat fitted with an oropesa sweep, the crew were found RNR uniforms and, along with signalman Huggett, an Aldis lamp, flags, AFOs and a sheaf of indecipherable papers, she became HMS Lune. The fishermen were phlegmatic about this change of circumstances as they would now look forward to a better watch keeping system than the three hours sleep in twenty four they achieved whilst fishing, and of course signalman Hugget was there in his capacity as rum bos'un.

The ex-trawlers operated in groups of six under the command of a 'shellback' RN Lieutenant Commander. Five had RNR signalmen who struggled desperately to read each others Aldis from afar at night in a North Sea gale. Fortunately Walter had a hard drinking yet heroic skipper who could smell his way round the North Sea and, on one occasion, returned HMS Lune safely to port whilst the RN commander and another trawler went aground in the thick fog.

Every day a convoy proceeded down the North Sea swept channel and into the Thames, mostly without harassment during these early war days, occasionally a contact mine was released by HMS Lunes' sweep and, having experience of Bisley with the HMS President rifle team, it was Walter's task to hit the horns and explode the mine with a 'Ross' rifle of Boer War vintage. Air protection was with a First World War Lewis machine gun which was supplied without a stand and could therefore not be aimed skywards. This was of no consequence as it invariably jammed after one round.

Meanwhile efforts to refit bigger trawlers were coming to fruition and Signalman Huggett and his skipper were transferred to HMS Solomon which had a real gun, but a smaller bridge ladder access where the skipper became stuck.

In the winter of 1939/40 North Sea Command had a nasty shock. Minesweepers from Grimsby, Hull, Harwich, Great Yarmouth and so forth were sweeping the convoy channel one day, only to be followed on the next day by ships being mined and sunk. A period of near panic ensued until a new type of mine was discovered at Sheerness during low tide. It was defused by a couple of brave mine-disposal men and we came to learn about the magnetic mine. Our wooden fishing trawlers provided too low a magnetic field to trigger these weapons which were then available for the iron cargo ships which followed. This reminded us onboard HMS Solomon of the occasion when we were attacked by a long range Dornier aeroplane whilst sweeping the channel. It must have been laying mines and was not keen on being reported in the area. We survived without casualties but returned to port looking like a colander.

Many weird and wonderful devices were suggested and tried out as counter measures, but it soon boiled down to 'degaussing' where the magnetic profile or signature of each vessel was measured and then nulled by winding coils of wire around the perimeter of the ship through which was passed an electromagnetic field in opposition to the intrinsic magnetism of the ship.

As the signalman I was required to browse through Admiralty Fleet orders and through this became aware of an appeal for all ranks qualified or experienced in electrical engineering to report this to the authorities. I conformed and thus, in Spring 1940, whilst still at sea, I was ordered to report as soon as possible to HMS Osprey, in civilian clothes. Three days later Signalman Huggett was adorned in the uniform of a Temporary Acting Sub Lieutenant (special branch). Ten more days to learn all about the operation and maintenance of Asdic, and then to Larne Harbour, Northern Ireland in charge of a non-existent workshop to maintain the Asdic fitted to the anti-submarine trawler group and any other vessel that may call.

From peaceful Lame I monitored the European Blitzkrieg and the Dunkirk evacuation, and became restless enough to volunteer for a transfer, preferably overseas. Being an obvious expert and a volunteer to boot, I was posted to Canada and the United States to learn about the American Sonar systems. Along with ; New Zealand Sub Lieutenant, I took passage in HMS Richmond, a converted liner, to Halifax and then Ottawa where we liaised with the

British offshoot of HMS Osprey who were organising the manufacture of Asdic gear in Canada. We then entered neutral USA in civilian clothes and visited to the Submarine Signal School in Boston where they made the American Sonar, followed by visits to Charleston Carolina and the Naval Base at San Diego. The US were well briefed about our visit and we were given the full treatment. A British-US deal had just been completed which, I believe, had something to do with the strategic use of Bermuda and forty ancient 'four stack' destroyers, most of which were fitted with Sonar. Out on exercise off San Diego against a tame submarine I formed a poor opinion of this American Sonar which could detect the submarine, but seemed to be barely capable of tracking it to a successful prosecution (and destruction). I concede that this was many years ago and the American Sonar technology is nowadays quite awesome.

The British Asdic of 1940, developed during the inter-war years at Portland, was a clever combination of basic mechanical and electrical principles. The quartz crystal oscillator and its training mechanism was in a streamlined dome that lowered beneath the hull and which protected the oscillator from the variable wave pressures and turbulence. The American sonar oscillator was housed in a small spherical ball attached to a large diameter shaft designed to withstand the ocean's buffeting. This greatly complicated with oscillator training mechanism and the control circuit was a masterpiece of weird and wonderful electronics. Background noise from the sea however, was never overcome. The American sound tracking system of a flashing light was also inferior to the British chemical recorder which left a permanent trace on a roll of paper. (Later, on returning to the United Kingdom, the then Lieutenant Huggett was tasked to 'stitch' these British recorders into the American sonar onboard those of the old destroyers that made it to the UK).

Now an international expert, and a tired one after a four day train ride from San Diego to New York, and then Halifax to join HMS Newport, one of those ill fated 'four stackers'. Three sailed; and HMS Newport, the only one to make it across the Atlantic, was beset with 'condenseritis' and many engine breakdowns. She finally staggered into Loch Foyle, Northern Ireland with fuel for only another twenty minutes of steaming and salt water having to be used to top up the boilers. She finally made it to Devonport for major repairs, was then lent to Norway for convoy duty and terminally expired on her first convoy escort trip to Iceland.

It was now January 1941 and Temporary Acting Lieutenant Huggett was the Devonport A/ S officer and a member of the new Electrical Branch, which inevitably was manned mainly by reservists. Plymouth was then the target for intensive bombing by the Luftwaffe, and many families deserted the city as night fell, although there were still very many casualties of the bombing.

In the Autumn he left to join a new depot ship, HMS Hecla, which straightaway sailed for Hvalfjordur, a deep anchorage near Reykjavic, Iceland in order to service ships and escorts from the Russian convoys.

New Canadian corvettes would sail from the St. Lawrence or Newfoundland to Iceland with 90% of the crew being volunteer landlubbers. Sailing straight into escort duty for the Russian convoys was harsh and the numbers of these brave men and stout ships that were lost in those in those Arctic waters was terrible to contemplate upon in the relative safety of Hvalfjordur.

In the summer of 1942 HMS Hecla returned to England en route to the Mediterranean. The chance of a bit of warmth however was lost on Lieutenant Huggett who was required to remain in Reykjavik because the Port A/S officer had fallen sick and was invalided home. However in the Spring of 1943 he did return, and was posted to Harwich as the Port A/S officer.

Whilst this meant mostly servicing the Asdic on escorts, Felixstowe and its base for MTB forays to the continental coast came within his remit. This allowed him to experiment with 'Heath Robinson' hydrophones which the MTBs used to hear the approach of enemy convoys or U-Boats. Strangely enough his father had made hydrophone equipment for a similar purpose in the First World War.

In late 1943 there was another posting, this time one he considered to be a plum job at the Asdic Experimental Research Establishment which, for security reasons had relocated from Portland to Fife's Boatyard, Fairlie, Ayrshire. Run by civilian scientists under a 'Jock' Anderson, there was a leavening of Naval Officers although he could not recall any other Electrical Officers at that particular time. However there were many electronic 'brains' there, many straight from university. However Lieutenant Huggett was not out of his depth as his mechanical and electrical engineering experience and his knowledge of metallurgy came in handy. For instance when he conceived, and was allowed to develop a new control circuit for the motors which raised and lowered the asdic domes.

With all the ships running on a DC power system it was fairly easy to control motor speed down to a very slow creep. The motors worked through gearing onto vertical screws which, when rotated, lowered (or raised) the dome. Just before the dome reached its lowered operating position the motors were slowed and then stopped just short of the mechanical chocks which sealed the dome into its faired position. The problem was that a sailor then had to go below through water-tight hatches to hand wind the last few turns to the chocks.

Lt Huggett's solution was to devise a control circuit made from standard GPO relays which were current sensitive. He adjusted the circuit so that the motors were only just turning as the dome reached the chocks, the higher stalling current of the motors was sensed by these relays and the power to the motors was isolated. He presto!

U-Boats were able to evade Asdic by diving deep therefore a 'depth' Asdic was developed training in the vertical plane with a narrow beam and higher frequency (which gave shorter range but more resolution). These were fitted to most of the submarine hunters, including many US Navy vessels. Analysis at Fairlie suggested that most were operating well below their optimum levels of efficiency and were in dire need of 'tuning'. Thus Lieutenant Huggett and a civilian scientist, Jim Menter (who returned to Cambridge after the war and who later became Sir James Menter), were dispatched to Liverpool and the ports covering the Western Approaches (as the first weapon equipment sonar performance improvement team (WESPIT), long before that acronym was invented). There at the Western Approaches Headquarters they met Admiral Max Horton, who insisted that they expand their influence to cover the American ships fitted with depth detection Asdic, both in the Atlantic and in the Pacific for those ships fighting in the war against Japan.

Thus on VE day the team was operating in the Irish Sea, and after a visit to Canada, VJ day saw the pair in an American Navy Yard in Philadelphia. Work stopped and a jeep was commandeered to drive to town to celebrate only to find that the officials had closed all the bars for fear of a riot.

With the two and a half rings of Lieutenant Commander (with two years seniority), and back with his interesting job in Ayrshire he was very tempted with the news that Electrical Officers were needed for Her Majesties post-war Navy in this new engineering branch. But the other side of him also had a claim to his future and perhaps he was a 'dissident' at heart and the frock coat and sword did not comfortably fit. Manganese Bronze and Brass Co. of Ipswich were pleased to concur and he was welcomed back as Technical Sales Manager...

Walter Huggett is along with all those who were touched by this great conflict. Looking back, he continues to be amazed that we managed to hold out against the might of Nazi Germany in those early years. Perhaps the main reason is that we are masters of improvisation and lateral thinking, especially when the chips are down.

The L Course at RNC Greenwich to HMS London's last fight: "The Yangtse Incident." 1949 by Lt Cdr LED Wise

For any warship to fight in fresh water is rare. When a 10,000 ton 8" gun cruiser did just that in 1949, the occasion must surely have been unique. Indeed the 'Yangtse Incident', involving HM Ships Amethyst, Consort, London and Black Swan, had several unique features as well as being (I believe) the first time that ships' Electrical Departments had gone into action as such.

First to set the scene, for this was in 1949 when the Electrical Branch was very new indeed and its members had come together from many walks of life. I myself had finished the war in the 'London' and continued in her as mate of the upper deck during several Far East trooping trips that followed the war, finally putting her into reserve in Chatham in mid-1946. Before this process was fully complete, I was appointed to RNC Greenwich for course and found my self one of the Terrible Twelve', one Fleet Air Arm observer and eleven 'salt horse' volunteers who were too old to go to Cambridge and too young to have specialised but still wanted to be Electrical Officers.

We formed a unique group known simply as 'The L Course" and I am not sure that the Greenwich staff had any real brief as to what we were to be taught. Roughly speaking, we got something like a three year university course compressed into one year -- maths, physics, mechanics, electrical and radio engineering theory, plus a little bit of chemistry and metallurgy. After years of wartime sea service it was relaxing to get back into the classroom and we were a rowdy lot, given to setting booby traps for our lecturers, but they took it in good part for we did work hard too. The subjects were very theoretical but they certainly got our brains working!

Then it was back to reality at HMS Collingwood, still all together on course 33L9 - thirty three weeks of general electrics which, with leave periods, took up most of another year. After that should have come the radio conversion course, but conversion courses were still oversubscribed at that time and half of us had to leave for a breath of sea air, an option which I was by then glad to take.

And so it was that I found myself, half-trained, in a troopship bound for Hong Kong where I eventually caught up with my new ship which turned out to be my old ship, HMS London. My role as Deputy Electrical Officer was a new one, and I was wearing my green stripe with some pride. It seemed that the ship had not been long in reserve when a requirement arose for a Far Eastern flagship and their Lordships' eyes fell favourably upon the London -- long in the tooth maybe, but airy and comfortable for flag-showing, with plenty of accommodation for an Admiral and his staff. She was based in Hong Kong, but we often found ourselves on the way to Singapore: Sometimes for a docking or refit, sometimes because of troubles in Malaya.

We also made occasional visits to Shanghai, to give support to its considerable British population in those troubled times. Shanghai was still in Nationalist hands, as was the capital Nanking many miles up the Yangtse River, but the Communists' Chinese Peoples Liberation Army was getting closer all the time. Unfortunately it had just established itself on the northeast bank of the Yangtse when the Amethyst moved up river on her way to Nanking, where she was to take over from HMS Consort in supporting our embassy and other British residents. Thinking I suppose that this alien warship must be aiding, if not actually allied to, their Nationalist foes, the CPLA artillery opened up at short range and put Amethyst out of action and aground on a sandbank.

This was on 20th April 1949 when coincidentally HMS London, with the Flag Officer Second in Command Far East and staff on board, was approaching Shanghai where she was due to celebrate St George's Day. After a signal from Amethyst had told us the worst, we gave Shanghai a miss and carried on to an anchorage a mile or two further up the Yangtse.

The next stage was for the destroyer HMS Consort, on her way from Nanking to Shanghai, to try to tow Amethyst clear. Again the soldiers opened fire and scored several hits. With obvious risk of becoming a second casualty and little room to manoeuvre in the narrow channel, Consort had to abandon her rescue attempt and carried on down to berth alongside London. I took a team on board Consort to assist in damage repairs. This sudden immersion in the unpleasant, sometimes gruesome, post-action sights and smells was off putting to say the least when we knew that we ourselves would be going up river in the morning.

The hope was that a much bigger ship, with a flag of truce at the masthead and large union flags hanging over each side, accompanied by the frigate HMS Black Swan, would either frighten or shame the attackers into silence, and we would be able to reach the beleaguered Amethyst unharmed. Alas the Chinese artillerymen had not read the rules and we too were soon the sitting target as we steamed steadily up the river. In my somewhat primitive Secondary DCHQ there was little to do except listen to the occasional 'bong' of a projectile on the armoured hull and wonder what was happening in the outside world. Then a moment of excitement came when I was able to announce on the broadcast that DCHQ was out of action and we had taken over - but the excitement was short-lived, for HQ's only problem was a blackout after a nearby hit. Within a few minutes power had been restored and DCHQ was back in control.

There were long periods of silence, but every time we passed a battery we were subjected to relentless close-range fire -- mostly 40 mm solid projectiles, but some shells of 3 or 4 inches calibre found their mark, most of these exploding on impact. As a result of this unusual opposition, there was little or no damage low down in the ship - main engines, dynamo: and ring main remaining intact, but a great deal of minor damage to the superstructure. Ever) hit seemed to sever an electric cable of some sort, destroying very many communication and gunnery control circuits. Cables to the director control tower were severed. One turret was put out of action altogether but the others kepi on firing in local control. Electrical damage control parties were kept busy rigging emergency lighting and restoring communications where possible.

Sadly it became obvious, as we approached a narrower part of the river and still twenty miles from our goal, that the hostile reception was set to continue and there would be no chance of returning successfully with Amethyst who, although now afloat, could only steam at slow speed. As a final straw, a shell hit the bridge, severely damaging communications, mortally wounding the Navigating Officer, killing the Chinese pilot and wounding the Captain. The Captain then gave the order to turn and handed over navigational control to the emergency conning position from whence the manoeuvre was completed.

Black Swan followed us round as we set off towards Shanghai and, after a few minutes of clearance and repair, command was again restored to the bridge. Fortunately a Yangtse pilot of great experience, Mr Sudbury, had volunteered to come with us and did a first rate job of getting us home safely. He was later awarded an MBE, as was Lt Cdr (L) 'Jock' Strain who had done so much to keep Amethyst's electrical equipment going during her enforced Idleness up river.

The return journey was a repeat of the outward one except that we were under fire for longer, the PLA having brought more guns into action. In all we had been through seven separate actions spread over some three and a half hours.

Only as we came into safer waters near Shanghai did we realise that a breaker room had been under water for some hours without the service fuse release switch opening as it should have done. The Yangtse water had been too fresh to bridge the contacts in the flood switch! Later there was some discussion as to whether a flood switch should have a pot of salt inside its casing to ensure its immediate operation, as some claimed to have been the practice in the past. Others thought it better for the equipment to go on working as long as possible and risk some deterioration of equipment. In the event some corrosion was caused but no permanent damage.

And so to Shanghai, where we could start to take stock of the situation. Thirteen men had lost their lives and quite a number were wounded (two of whom were to die later). In the Electrical Department we were lucky to get away with one EA slightly wounded and Black Swan had no electrical casualties. We could quickly devote our full attention to repair work. We had received over sixty penetrating hits and even the small solid projectiles seemed each to have found an electric wire to sever. It seems from all reports that the new Electrical Department organisation worked smoothly in all ships and the electrical damage control parties acquitted themselves well.

A further surprise came when the capstan motor was started, for water shot out in all directions as it began to rotate -- apparently it had been flooded by a fire hose during the action. The water being fresh, the motor continued to run until the job was done, but it was thought advisable to give the motor and controller a thorough clean-out. An EA dismantled the controller, put the contacts in a bucket of clean water which he left on the deck while he went off to do another job. When he returned, the bucket - and contents - had gone. Enquiries revealed that a seaman, tidying up his part of ship, had grabbed the bucket and got rid of the 'dirty water' by tipping it over the side! A Chinese fisherman with net on long pole was recruited and, remarkably, recovered all the contacts save two, for which replacements were made in the workshop.

Being in charge of 'low power', I remember poring over ship's drawings to locate damaged cables and climbing around masts and superstructure armed with pliers and insulating tape to make some unprofessional but rapid repairs. After a few days in Shanghai the ship was reasonably fit for action again and we moved to a standby anchorage near the mouth of the river, where we stayed until relieved by HMS Belfast on 4th May. Then it was back to Hong Kong for dockyard attention.

Finally, more than three months later, a battered Amethyst seized the right moment to make her brilliant and unaided escape down river. That, as they say, is another story. London by that time had moved south to Malaya and played no further part in the Amethyst story. In September, as planned, we returned to Chatham and once more put the ship into reserve, but this time it was for good. She was scrapped a few months later. For myself it was back to school once more, on the radio conversion course.

The action was unique in many ways apart from the fresh water aspect, the nature of the weapons used against us and the type of damage they caused. For one thing, we kept up a speed of 25 knots throughout, a speed unlikely to have been exceeded in the Yangtse except by HMS Consort who had achieved 30 knots the day before. In addition to navigational problems, we were further restricted by the policy of not opening fire until fired upon -this applied to each separate engagement as we passed each shore battery.

After the incident, there was a rare if not unique 'cross-decoration' when the crew of the RAF Sunderland, which had brought replenishments and personnel to the Amethyst, were awarded the Naval General Service Medal with Yangtse Clasp, while the RAF doctor who transferred to the Amethyst was among those awarded the DSC. Finally, I am sure that HMS London must be the only ship to have gone into action will 'illuminate-ship' circuits rigged. These had been got ready for St George's Day and, in the event, came in handy for temporary lighting.

Electrics in the Yangtse Action

By Commander (L) E. H. Johnson, R.N., Far East Station

Taken from the Naval Radio and Electrical Review, October 1949

This article is concerned chiefly with the action as it affected us in H.M.S. London, for although the smaller ships were equally engaged, the type of armament used against our ship was more akin to what might be expected of a close action between light craft. It was very different from the kind of thing an eight-inch Cruiser might expect.

The "Opposition" used batteries of field guns mounted on the flood banks of the river, and mobile anti-tank guns further back hidden from view amongst the trees lining the paddy fields.

Damage was consequently not great for each incident, but the total of sixty-six hits produced a big problem for the repair parties. Only thirteen hits failed to create electrical damage and as most of these were those that exploded against the side, practically everything that came inboard made work for the electrical department.

Altogether seven actions were fought, and in each case the fire was so hot that repair parties could do little but take what cover could be found on the disengaged side, ready to take remedial action during the lulls. The work was nearly all in running emergency leads, as the ring main was untouched, and no main supplies interrupted, so the switchboard had a fairly easy time.

All four generators were on load, the ring main being run in sections, and individual loads varied between 450 and 700 amperes, Nos. I and 2 dynamos each carrying approximately 200 amperes more than Nos. 3 and 4, as "Y" Turret was not in action.

One of the early hits partially severed the supply cables to "A" Turret pump. The pump continued to run for some time and did not fail until the fifth action. Emergency cables were run to the permanent risers from the pump, but as soon as power was restored one of the risers blew out, causing a heavy overload on No. I generator which fortunately held on as the fault cleared itself. The damaged riser was repaired and the pump run via the emergency leads.

The flooding of No. 4 breaker space produced some strange effects in IID group of breakers. The flood switch failed to open the fuse release switch and the breakers remained alive, continuing to function under water. No indication of the flooding was shown at the main switchboard therefore, as the earth lamps were already indicating the many earth faults which other hits had produced. Investigation of the compartments in the vicinity of the hit proved that the breaker space was flooded, but the breakers were left to function until dimming of the indicator lamps on the main switchboard after about one hour showed that failure was imminent. At this stage all breakers were taken off and alternative supplies made good. The cross-feeding fuses in the section change-over switch of groups ID also were withdrawn to prevent No. 1 Section being affected through the cross-feeders.

The reason of the failure of the flood switch was not appreciated during the heat of the moment, but subsequent investigation and more leisurely consideration provided the explanation. Not only was the flood water fresh, but it was loaded with a greasy mud and covered with a film of oil washed from the Gunner's store which received the initial penetration, so that it coated all contact surfaces with a film of insulating material which effectively prevented the flow of enough current to blow the fuses of the fuse release switch and limited the leakage currents in the rest of the gear to harmless proportions.

Considerable numbers of high and low power cables were cut by splinters, causing numerous failures to power, lighting, communications, and fire control systems. This caused the loss of all communications from the for 'd director control tower firing circuits to the port 4" director, and much of the Bridge communications, in addition to the majority of permanent lighting in the forepart of the ship. The port crane suffered a direct hit in the main hoist controller and also damage to the structure, notably the teeth of the training rack, which caused some Wardroom argument on who should do the repairs, a strong case being made out for " Toothy."

W.T. gear suffered temporarily as aerials were shot away, but only type 89 and 49 equipments received superficial damage by blast and splinters when a compartment adjacent to No. I transmitter room was hit.

Of the radar equipment only type 277 remained in service, but the remaining sets were undamaged except type 79 transmitter which had an anti-tank shell through the power board where several leads were cut. The rest were out of action only through damage to aerial and power supply leads, with the exception of type 284 aerial which was destroyed by a direct hit. After the action the heavy work for the department began when emergency repairs were taken in hand. As we were not at war and not expecting any more fighting, conditions of navigability and comfort were given priority over gunnery, and work was begun to this effect. The quantity of black tape used was prodigious and by the third day after the action we were a going concern, with well lit mess decks, adequate ventilation, bridge communications in order and wireless aerials restored. In addition, sufficient work had been done on gunnery circuits to enable the main armament to be fired in director control.

Subsequently, difficulty was experienced with the capstan engines which had been flooded by enthusiastic fire parties dealing with a burning canvas store, but they held together well enough to get us back to Hong Kong where they were handed over thankfully to SEE.

The department organisation worked well, and, with one exception when a telephone order was misinterpreted, communications between sections and the damage control HQ were passed efficiently and acted upon with despatch.

In London and Black Swan, the Branch was fortunate for we had only one slight casualty, but in HMS Consort and Amethyst we were heavily hit with sad losses. On her return to Hong Kong, HMS Consort was seen to be wearing a mysterious long blue pennant. Enquiry elicited the answer that it was the Blue Riband of the Yangtse, self-awarded for he passage of this very difficult river at the somewhat unusual speed of thirty knots.

Testing of Britain's first nuclear fission weapon - the atomic bomb, was carried out in the Monte Bello Islands off the West coast of Australia in October 1952. Since it was a simulated harbour explosion - the weapon being detonated on board HMS Plym - and the Task Force was largely seaborne it was commanded by the Royal Navy. Other atomic weapon tests took place later at the Maralinga test site in South Australia.

When later n the fifties the fusion weapon (Hydrogen Bomb) was developed it was clear that the greatly increased yields expected, dictated that the tests be conducted at a rather more remote location and the Line Island Group in the Central Pacific was chosen. Since these were largely air dropped weapons the Task Force was commanded by the RAF and the main base was established on Christmas Island with the target island being the uninhabited Malden Island four hundred miles south. Operation Grapple was initiated because of the small size of Maiden Island - roughly triangular of about 5 miles sides the control and monitoring necessarily had to be seaborne and a small Task Squadron was set up which consisted of HMS Warrior, the Tank Landing Ships, HMS Narvik and HMS Messina and two Loch Class frigates of the Royal New Zealand Navy, HMNZS Pukaki and HMNZS Rotoiti. HMS Narvik, a veteran of the Monte Bello atomic tests was fitted out for scientific technical control and monitoring. The first three British fusion weapons were tested at Maiden Island in early 1957.

The success of these tests and the data obtained made it clear that it would be safe to conduct further tests on Christmas Island itself. This eliminated the logistic problems of a test site 400 miles remote from the main base, the attendant accommodation difficulties and the problem of access to and from the island to set up and monitor the tests. It was decided therefore to greatly expand the task force and base facilities on Christmas Island and establish, with the 'cold war' at its coldest, a permanent nuclear testing site.

In the Summer of 1957 a shore based naval task group was set up and Lieutenant Fordham was pulled from the last few weeks of his Radio Mechanician course and sent out to the Pacific on something of a 'pier head jump'!

After the completion of Grapple and the decision to mount all further tests at Christmas Island the build up began in earnest for what became known as Grapple X, Y and Z. The Naval group, called rather whimsically Naval Party 2512, was quite small and besides the Resident Naval Officer boasted only seven other Officers, 1st Lt, two (ME) Engineers, one S&S, one Shipwright, one Boatswain and a Captain of Royal Marines i/c of a Landing Craft squadron. There was no Electrical Engineer Officer, the Electrical complement being one Electrical Mechanician (Sam Weller), one Radio Electrical Mechanician (the author) two Electrical Mechanics (Tierney & Harrison) and one Radio Mechanic (Brown).

The remit, which seemed a little obscure at first, was to set up a maintenance base, for the chief role of the Electrical staff was the maintenance of the Landing craft, small boats and motor transport. On the Radio side a large number of portable wireless outfits, 62 sets and 88 sets, were in use to provide communication with the landing craft and ships at the anchorage and with an MFV which was used to catch fish for monitoring purposes after each test and also as a supplement to the menu. A 691 outfit and a TCS was later installed and assistance provided on a demand basis, chiefly to the RFA's but also on occasion to warships on deployment. A cinema outfit of two 16mm projectors was also maintained on an open air cinema site and a substantial film library was held to provide exchange films to both warships and RFA's.

We arrived on the island in mid September and, with the next Hydrogen Bomb test codenamed Grapple X due in November only two months away, life became a little hectic. A full seven day week routine 8 am to 6 pm was instituted which was to continue until well into 1958 when we dropped to and remained on a six day week.

All of the accommodation and workshops in mid 1957, was tented with the exception of the main galley and the Resident Naval Officer's 10 ft by 8ft garden shed (office)! Power for battery charging was provided by two small I petrol generators at first but these were augmented by two large antiquated single cylinder diesel generators as equipment began to arrive. Main AC power throughout the island was provided by the army. The supply cables strung, along the tent tops deteriorated badly in the heat and humidity and resulted in two fires, one was in the Senior rates tent lines and the other was the electrical workshop. The salt water used to douse the latter contaminated all the batteries on charge at that time which engendered a great deal of recovery work.

Nissen huts were later erected to house offices and communications facilities, which released the RNO's shed to become our recreational film store - an unfortunate choice because unprecedented rain in early 1958 flooded the hut site to a depth of two feet and ruined about 150 films. We were not flavour of the month at the Recreational Film Library when they were shipped back! Also four large steel framed portal buildings were erected to contain the workshops.

The arrival of a 691 outfit for installation begged a mast of some sort on which to place the dipole and clearly the taller the better. The overhead power lines were carried on 'telegraph' poles but these were generally only about twenty feet long and hardly adequate. However one enormous pole almost sixty feet long which was probably a relic of the American occupation during World War II was found near the wharf and, after a battle with the Boatswain who wanted it for his small boats jetty, acquired on the basis of greatest need- this was the beginning of something of a comedy of errors which is worth recounting.

It was established that the army had an earth auger mounted on a one ton lorry chassis located at the main camp. Initial overtures to 'borrow' this to make a hole for the pole were frustrated by claims that it was at the time unserviceable but persistence eventually brought it to the port to make the necessary hole. The site selected, behind the headquarters Nissan huts, was in crushed coral and sand which was very crumbly so two 44 gallon oil drums with the ends cut out were welded together to provided a sleeve to support the sides of the hole when drilled. Small holes were burned randomly in the sides of the drums to allow the free flow of concrete.

The problem then came of erecting the pole which, trimmed at the ends was by then 56 ft long. The army did not have any mobile pole erecting vehicle that would cater with the weight of a pole that long and there was no crane on the island that could pick up the pole and drop it vertically into the hole. The biggest crane with a jib 30 ft high at maximum elevation belonged to the RAF and they were persuaded to loan this. With the pole slung just above its mid point the fatter butt end of the pole caused it to hang at an angle of about 60 degrees. The idea then was to lower the butt into the top of the oil drum sleeve and then back up the crane vehicle to force the pole vertical so that it could slide into the hole. All very well in theory but, with hindsight, rather flawed thinking for the pole was considerably heavier than the crane jib which was gracefully pushed back over its cab! An emergency deputation to the army was then required to borrow a bulldozer with which to pull the pole back off the crane and with a bit of extra pull in the same direction the pole eventually came vertical and dropped into place. The inhabitants of all the Nissan huts were by this time acting as rather unwelcome and barracking spectators - having evacuated their offices in fear of our pole coming though the roof.

The pole was set vertical and concreted in and as planned, was guyed with one set of light guys due to the crumbly and sandy nature o the ground. The hierarchy in the Nissan huts 'o ye of little faith' - thought differently and insisted that this was replaced with a double guying using much heavier wire thus resulting in the very 'belt and braces' form. I often wonder whether it is still standing.

With the dipole mounted at what we though was a respectable height of 50 ft and the 691 outfit installed, together with a TCS outfit in the Signals Office below, we at last had reliable ship/shore facilities and could dispense with the chore of the daily battery humping to and from the workshop. However, we were very neatly upstaged a few days later when a lorry arrived and a team of professional mast erectors set up a 150 ft lattice mast to carry camera and monitoring equipment for the imminent 'Grapple X' test. That mast was completed in the space of one and a half days and was guyed with lighter wires than the ones that we had first put on our pole which, beside its more elegant cousin of triple height, looked very much a poor relation by comparison.

One, in retrospect, amusing incident occurred whilst the 691 was being installed - the writer set his Radio Mechanic, Brown, on fire! Lighting a blow lamp in bright sunlight to dry out the pyrotenax tail of the dipole the flame in the lighting cup appeared to exhaust and go out before the blow lamp caught. Applying the lemonade bottle half full of 'meths' to replenish the cup before relighting showed that the flame had not quite gone out because the meths ignited back into the bottle forcing the contents out like a flame thrower - all over Brown who was standing a couple of yards away - wearing only shorts and sandals. He let out one loud yell, covered the ten yards to the boat jetty in about three bounds and jumped into the lagoon. Emerging wet and unblemished apart from singed hairs on his chest his language was unprintable and I rather suspect that he never really trusted me again. Had the lagoon not been conveniently close however the consequence could have been much more serious and it was a salutary lesson for all of us on the use of blow lamps.

The 'Grapple X' test in November 1957 found all non essential personnel on the island assembled on the sand spit at the port at first light and the Gilbertese villagers were all shipped out to HMS Messina to be shown films below decks until the test was complete. We were dressed in No.8 AWD with anti-flash gear and required to sit with our backs towards ground zero twenty eight miles away near the south east corner of the island, and our fists knuckled into our eyes. After a count down of twenty the flash of the burst was clearly seen through fists and eyelids. At the same time we felt a distinct warm sensation on our backs as if a 1 KW electric fire had been held about a metre away for a couple of seconds. There was then a count up to ten after the burst before we were allowed to stand and turn to view the result. By this time the sun was well above the horizon to the south east and at first that was all we could see -- or so we thought - but after a while this sun began to grow larger and fade and the real sun became visible nearby and was at first pale by comparison. The fireball of the bomb rose and dulled and the familiar mushroom cloud with its skirts of condensation falling down the stalk developed until it towered above seeming to fill the south eastern quadrant of the sky.

Two and a half minutes later we saw a ripple crossing the lagoon towards us and a rather disappointing blast, which was a double report not dissimilar to the now familiar supersonic 'bangs', and of about the same intensity. We then had an unprecedented 'make and mend' for the rest of the day.

Shortly after this our new portal building was completed and we moved in and 'set up shop'. The workshops were set up with one corner enclosed to provide a relatively 'clean' area for an EMR.

Since all the RN and RNZN ships present for the trials were equipped with type 277Q radar, we were provided with a complete 277Q aerial pedestal for spares. This proved useful when HMS Narvik arrived on station with a burnt out elevation motor which was replaced and this provided a welcome change from the humdrum of routine when we rewound the old one

and tested it on board before shipping it back on our pedestal for spare. HMNZS Rotoiti also arrived with the odd problem of a 277Q aerial which toppled on its back and stayed there. The ships company had removed the stabilisation vane behind the aerial in an attempt to alleviate this problem but to little avail. After some puzzling investigation which showed nothing wrong with the elevating gear it was realised that someone at some previous time had removed the counterbalance weights from the bottom rim of the dish. Finding these and replacing them solved the problem.

On Christmas Eve 1957, the 180th anniversary of the island's discovery by Captain James Cook, the Party 2512 address was dispensed with and the base was commissioned as H.M.S. Resolution. This was the one occasion during our stay when a formal divisions was held although we did not make an excess of it by holding a march past!

The RFA's on station provided a fairly regular pattern of minor radio defects to be dealt with but two of these are worthy of note. One of the 'Wave' tankers arrived and complained that their wireless emergency batteries always 'boiled' when they were put on charge. After some investigation it was discovered that the charging panel was fitted with a shunt for the charging current meter and that the meter fitted in the panel also had its own internal shunt. The shunt fitted in the panel was only a quarter of the resistance of the meter's internal shunt and it was not therefore surprising that the batteries gassed a bit on charge since this meant that they were being charged at around five times the charge shown on the meter.

The other problem was presented by one of the Tort' supply ships which arrived with a defective Type 691. Investigation showed nothing at all wrong with the equipment but, climbing a recently painted pole mast to look at the aerial it became clear that the ham-footed deck hand who had painted the mast had used the loop of the aerial down lead into the dummy load box below the aerial as a convenient foothold and ripped it out of its plug. Since it was impossible to unship the aerial without the use of a dockyard crane the repair had to be carried out in situ. This was normally the sort of job that would be done from a box slung from a crane and was exacerbated by the steady and considerable roll of the ship in the huge Pacific swell that built up at the anchorage. A rather hairy hour spent with a soldering iron on a long extension lead, strapped to the top of a pole mast describing quite an arc in the sky, left no nostalgia for life in the days of sail

In April 1958 we again assembled on the sane spit for the 'Grapple' test and the routine was much as before except that this time we were all equipped with white anti-radiation overall; with hoods, presumably because Grapple Y was to be of greater yield than Grapple X . This reduced the heat sensation on the back, that we had experienced on the burst of Grapple X but the visible appearance of the burst was not greatly different nor was the base wave which followed.

At about that time with the bulk of store landed and the base fully up and running work routine dropped from a seven to a six day week and we began to look forward to the end of our stints since one year was considered quit enough for the isolation experienced there. / dummy run for a balloon mounted burst in anticipation of the Grapples Z series was carried out in August 1958 and all of the personnel who formed the build up group had bee relieved by the beginning of September 1958. The four device tests of Grapple Z, two air dropped and two from captive balloons, were completed shortly thereafter and towards the end of 1958, political decisions were made to discontinue nuclear testing at Christmas Island and there was a run-down to a care and maintenance situation by the end of the decade.

In 1962, the political wind shifting once again, the bases were reactivated and with a joint British and American force of some 3500, a further 24 tests were carried out, but by 1964 the run-down was completed and on the 29th of June that year the White ensign was lowered for the last time at H.M.S. Resolution.

Commander (now Commodore) Duncan Ferguson sailed South with the Royal Naval Task Force in April 1982. He was awarded a Mention in Despatches for his part in the conflict. This is his story.

Trafalgar Day 1981, celebrated in traditional style by Naval Officers worldwide, the Fourth Frigate Squadron being no exception, with the 8 Type 21 Frigates Amazon. Antelope, Ambuscade, Alacrity, Arrow, Active, Ardent and Avenger. I was serving in Avenger, in Devonport preparing for the West Indies and Belize. The morning after a most convivial dinner I reported to HMS Drake sickbay for my annual medical and was unconcerned that my urine was indicating excess sugar, after all it had been good Port wine. Ten days later a repeat test proved positive and I had no excuses. Although fit and active with regular squash and some offshore sailing, with hindsight there had been warning flags. Dizziness prior to retiring for the night which happened whether or not I took a Scottish nightcap, and a tiredness which was probably more than just job pressure induced. And, I was 5'9" and weighed in at 15 stone. The implications of this diagnosis to a seagoing naval officer were significant, as the obvious medical option would be to land me and sideline me away from a developing career. However I was offered a lifeline, 'balance on a diet only regime before the ship deployed in six weeks time and I could sail with her'. A seriously slimmer Weapon Engineer (2 stone) was able to spend Christmas in New Orleans as a just reward for his 1000 calorie a day diet.

March 1982, HMS Arrow, Gibraltar, with a new weapon system computer programme designed to improve the ships performance against low flying aircraft and missiles. The wardroom of HMS Rooke was bemused to read that some scrap metal merchants had landed on a remote Island called South Georgia and hoisted the Argentinean Flag.

Saturday 2 April, I arrived home for Christmas leave. The Argentineans invaded the Falk-lands. Sunday 3 April, leave completed, I joined HMS Antelope which had been ordered to take passage South. Frantic preparations were apace for a long voyage to a hostile destination, although none of those involved in the rush really considered that war was on the cards. HMS Antelope and HMS Alacrity slipped at a cold and misty 0600 hours on the 5 April unseen apart from the dockside riggers who gave them a rousing cheer. We joined HMS Hermes, HMS Invincible, the five Sir Galahad landing craft and various tankers and support ships in the Western Approaches.

Leaving HMS Antelope in Ascension Island as guard ship, I transferred to the tanker RFA Olmeda where my first major duty was to close the bar at 0800 on 18 April in response to the task force commander's order to be in all respects ready for war. I transferred to HMS Glamorgan on a foul night 23 April by helicopter, to immediately have the ship diverted to search for a helicopter that had ditched on its way back to Hermes. I never found out if it was my helicopter, but felt it best not to dwell on these things. Two days later we heard that South Georgia had been recaptured from an Argentinean Force and their submarine Santa Fe destroyed in the action. I moved across to HMS Arrow, a special ship as I had stood by her at Yarrows during build and been her first Weapon Engineering Officer.

28 April, the total exclusion zone (TEZ) was established around the Falkland Islands and Arrow, Alacrity and Glamorgan were detached to bombard Stanley Airport after a RAF Vulcan bomber had softened it up with some 1000 pound bombs. Clear, sunny and still, the three ships creaming along with battle ensigns at the mastheads were how the British presumably had always gone into battle.

Our first lesson in modern warfare arrived with four Argentinean Dagger aircraft that had defeated the radars, the visual lookouts (who assumed them to be British Harriers) and the operations teams of all three ships. I was just grateful that a sailor on the port oerlikon disregarded a 'check fire'. One pilot had sighted on our Exocet missiles but swerved from the line of oerlikon tracer and his 30mm cannon stitched the ship from funnel to flight deck, his bomb bouncing over the ship to explode between Arrow and Alacrity. No one was left in doubt that we were now at war against a country with determined and courageous pilots, and this early lesson was to stand us in good stead and perhaps helped the ships to survive.

Next day, 2 May, the Argentinean Cruiser Belgrano and two patrol boats were sunk, and Admiral Woodward ordered a thrust towards the toe of Chile. Midday, HMS Arrow, ZIPPO called (inbound aircraft or missile detection), smoothed into action stations and launched decoys. HMS Sheffield, some 30 miles away was less alert and the real horror of war arrived for us, and for all the British people who were now able to sit on the sidelines of modern conflict through the global intrusion of television. HMS Sheffield was mortally struck amidships by an Exocet missile launched by a Super Etendal fighter plane. Arrow was ordered to her assistance and soon lay alongside the incapacitated ship coupling up fire hose; when the sonar operator gave the alarm 'torpedo"torpedo'. The Rolls Royce gas turbines allowed us to leap away at full power accelerating to 30 knots in under a minute. This human reaction to fear gave us a repeat performance before it was clear that the torpedoes were from a British ship chasing phantom Argentinean submarines. HMS Arrow returned to the task am came face to face with death, the sight an( smell of burning flesh and the horror of being so involved with the loss of a Royal Naval ship Arrow took on 230 men from the Sheffield and besides the touching generosity of her ships' company to the smoke blackened survivor who outnumbered them by some 50 souls, she became a different ship.

In the other normal world, how was I coping with diabetes? Despite the lack of variety in the menu I seemed to be able to pick my way through what was on offer, especially as the cool rooms held a good stock of fruit, although I was still losing weight. The job in hand did seem to take priority, but I was able to monitor the urine levels with clinistix, and felt that the adrenalin flow was working wonders in reducing blood sugar levels.

HMS Arrow spent daylight hours with the Carrier Battle Group in the TEZ, breaking off at dusk to land SAS and Royal Marines or harassing the Argentineans with naval gunfire support. Ships adopted different routines but generally there would be a meal at 0400 in order to have everyone alert at first light, and of course nobody undressed except to shower, and slept fully kitted out with lifejackets, AGRs and anti flash gear worn at the ready.

On 21 May, Ardent, Ambuscade and Antelope joined the Task Force, Ardent going straight in with the group supporting the assault landings. Helicopters were in such demand that I was unable to visit and brief the crew on how best to use their weapons against the low flying Argentinean aircraft. I next saw her burning and sinking in Falkland Sound after being hit by more than six 5001b bombs. I did manage to address the ship's companies of Ambuscade and Antelope and pass on the lessons we had learnt thus far. On 23 May HMS Antelope splashed two aircraft, but then had to enter San Carlos Water with an unexploded 1000 pound bomb beneath her Seacat missile magazine. On HMS Arrow we entered the harbour to witness the explosion and subsequent fire which destroyed the second ship of our close knit squadron; again the mental shock was traumatic; we had all lost friends and were bitterly resolved to avenge that loss and our shelling of the Argentinean camps at Goose Green, Mount Kent and the racecourse was conducted with rare hatred.

After 3 days in 'bomb alley', as San Carlos was now known, I returned to the TEZ to meet Avenger and Alacrity after their record breaking 28 knot passage from the UK. I was in Avenger for her first night of firings off Stanley, where I witnessed again the mental adjustment of men coming under heavy and accurate fire for the first time. But God was merciful as a land launched Exocet missile flew over the flight deck, the fuse failed to trigger, and it ditched harmlessly into the sea. The young flight deck officer certainly needed a medicinal brandy when we retired from the firing line.

May became June with the war on the ground being supported by nightly bombardments. At sea, there was an Exocet aimed at Ambuscade, which was decoyed, but then tragically hit the Atlantic Conveyor. A concerted attack by Skyhawks and Super Etendards against HMS Avenger ended with an Exocet missile being splashed by her 4.5" gun. HMS Glamorgan was struck by a shore based Exocet, but managed to control the fires and return to battle, and in Bomb Alley we were learning how to deflect the Argentinean pilots aim with anything and everything from very pistols to 3" rockets.