My Story

Frederick Jenkins

1945

I remember well, some 63 years on, that fine summers evening of wartime 1945, with the war in Europe finally over.

Further to a few hours shore leave, I was returning through Aberdeen harbour, when in the failing light I passed a forlorn looking vessel, deserted and tied up in the inner harbour. Although her silhouette was strange to me, something about the rake of her funnel made me stop, and on closer inspection I realised that this was indeed the H.M. Trawler CLYTHNESS, my first ship and the one which had been the major factor in my life during the hard fought first three years of the war. Her appearance had certainly changed. Squat and ugly fuel and water tanks had been added above decks, her wartime paint was flaking off, and her hull and superstructure were excessively stained with rust.

I had been an apprentice architect in Stirling and not long past 19 when I volunteered for the Royal Naval Patrol Service, and further to 3 months training as a Signalman, had joined the minesweeping trawler at Hull in March, 1940, along with a complement of 23, commanded by Lt. A Heckstall-Smith RNVR (a subsequent DSC).

Sweeping out of Harwich and Sheerness we went through our baptism of fire, so to speak, detonating our first magnetic mines. In what was a veritable graveyard of ships, we continually passed the Dutch liner SIMON BOLIVAR, the Japanese liner TERUKINI MARU, the British destroyer GYPSY and others, all sunk by magnetic mines. We were soon based at Dover, from where we had two trips to Zeebrugge. On the second, we swept the harbour to enable blockships to be sunk to disable the habour, its capture being imminent. Dunkirk came next with all that entailed. We made two trips, each time crammed with exhausted British and French troops.

Permanently at Dover, keeping the war channel clear meant trouble as we could be seen from the French coast, so sweeping had to be confined to the hours of darkness. Also came the shelling of the harbour area. Over the next two years, intermittent shells would arrive without warning. CLYTHNESS received a near miss on two occasions. On the first, there were no causalities, as fortunately the entire crew were below decks, bon ht the second our Steward was killed outright and our Cook seriously wounded. Quite some damage above the water line in both cases.

Our routine night sweeping missions continued on a regular basis. Further to frequent contact with enemy aircraft, our Oerlikon gunner, S/T West was awarded the DSM. A similar award was made to Ldg Seaman Jock Cargill, a holder of the MM gained in the trenches of WW1, for extreme gallantry in fighting a severe fire which occurred aboard. Jock was also the holder of the Titanic Medal, awarded for services in the rescue of survivors. Gallantry awards in tree different services must be quite unique.

At the beginning of May, 1943, coastal radar had identified E-boats in numbers during darkness in the Straits of Dover. Minelaying was suspended and a large minefield subsequently proved this to be the case. At dawn, CLYTHNESS, under the command of Lt. Leslie Wyatt RNVR (subsequent DSC) and with the Base Commander aboard, lead out a flotilla of minesweeping trawlers. Not knowing what types of mines had been laid, three Oropesa equipped trawlers (for cutting moored contact mines) proceeded in the van in echelon formation, followed by ourselves and two other LL magnetic mine sweepers in line abreast. Three others followed at a safe distance. Acoustic mine equipment was also employed.

The first and succeeding explosions astern had indicated magnetic mines. When such a mine detonates, a concussive effect is felt throughout the ship before the water astern erupts violently, and in the comparatively shallow water where this type of mine is laid, the spout created can be an awe-inspiring sight. In due course we returned to the harbour at dusk. Many weeks of sweeping had still to be carried out before the war channel could be declared clear, as German ingenuity had now incorporated period delay mechanisms into magnetic and acoustic mines which could be activated up to ten times prior to the mine being activated. This greatly extended the search time.

As we steamed into the outer harbour I received a typical cryptic signal flashed from Dover Castle which read: From VAD (Vice Admiral Dover): What is the score? to which I was instructed to reply in laconic and sporting vein: Fifteen runs. No wickets lost!

During the time I had served aboard CLYTHNESS, her complement had been awarded: 1 DSO, 2 DSCs, 3 DSMs, 4 Mentioned in Despatches. Two of the latter came my way.

I was later to discover that not long after I had left her, CLYTHNESS had been recommissioned and converted into a fuel and water supply ship, and had taken part in the Normandy invasion, being involved at both Arromanches and Omaha beaches and had continued service in France. She had been a survivor. Almost 500 RN Patrol Service vessels, indeed a larger number than had been sunk in all the other branches of The Royal Navy combined, had been sent to the bottom either by mine, bomb, torpedo or other misfortune, with the loss of 2,385 gallant lives.

The evening of that particular day in Aberdeen harbour, I had given her one last glance before finally departing, and I recall saying inwardly to myself: Goodbye CLYTHNESS my old friend. Anyone else seeing you now would not think you worth a second look, but there is one person who can vouch for the fact that, like the proverbial dog, you did indeed have your day!