Walking towards the main museum building, you can also see the only remaining example of a British X Craft which saw service during WWII.

X Craft were responsible for the crippling of the Battleships Tirpitz and Takao and four Victoria crosses were awarded to their crews for these extraordinary exploits. X-24 carried out successful missions in the Norwegian Fjords in 1944.

Before we leave HMS X-24 and I invite you to follow me into the Gallery Building let us dwell a couple of minutes and reflect why Britain developed this perfect submarine in miniature. Quite simply it was to extend the capability of the ocean-going submarine into areas otherwise denied it by its size. Such areas could be harbours, bays or anchorages, all of which could be reasonably easy to defend by nets, patrol craft and defensive minefields. (There are exceptions to every rule. KLt Gunter Prien in U-47 and his extraordinary attack on Scapa Flow which led to the sinking of HMS Royal Oak. And our own LCdr Tony Miers VC in HMS Torbay when he got into Corfu Roads and created mayhem) I digress, back to the means of extending submarine capability.

The first example of such activity occurred during WW1 when Nasmith VC in HMS E11 put his First Lieutenant, Guy D’Oyley-Hughes, ashore to blow up a Turkish viaduct. Lacking any other means of delivery the only option was of course for Guy to swim from the submarine harnessed to a raft of high explosive, however the lesson from the success of this first ‘Special Forces’ activity from a submarine was not lost on future strategists and WWII saw it applied in a variety of different ways.

The submarine, given its qualities of stealth, surprise and small silhouette is the ideal platform for instigating covert clandestine operations. As the strategists developed their ideas for the use of special forces (spies, agents, raiding and reconnaissance parties), so the submarine caught their eye. As a result during the course of WWII a number of vehicles for landing individuals/groups were developed, with the overall principle of getting such people and their equipment ashore in the best physical shape possible in order to conduct the mission. It is self evident that it would be counter-productive to expect an agent with a wireless set strapped to his back to swim ten miles and then carry out a sensitive operation as a result of which, if he is captured, leads to his inevitable demise and puts the delivery submarine at extreme risk.

Incidentally, the dagger on a submarine’s Jolly Roger denoted a ‘special operation’ and you will see many of these on the JRs that hang in the stairwell.

All RN submarines carried a rubber inflatable boat, and this was used on numerous occasions for landing singletons, or a party of up to five. It would be stowed outside the hull under the casing, and would be inflated by a valve connected to the submarine’s high pressure air system (via a reducer to stop it taking off like an air-ship!) It would then be launched over the side via the submarine’s ballast tanks. It was propelled by paddles, and the submarine captain would attempt to get as close as possible to the objective (in the order of a mile) to land or recover his guests.

The preferred method of landing Commandos was by the ‘Folboat’ (folding boat) or ‘cockle’. Made of canvas, the Folboat could be rolled into a cigar shape and stowed in the forward torpedo compartment (the forends) in place of reload torpedoes. Launch would be via the forward torpedo loading hatch. The most famous of such operations (although there were many during WWII) was that of the Cockleshell Heroes (Major HG Hasler OBE Royal Marines), who were landed from HMS Tuna (Lieutenant Dick Raikes Royal Navy) for Operation Frankton. Readers will recall that the Commando party infiltrated Bordeaux Harbour and sank several enemy ships using limpet mines. Sadly 8 out of the 10 extraordinarily brave Royal Marines died during the operation. The surviving two, Major Hasler and Marine Sparkes, had a tortuous journey to freedom assisted by the French Resistance. Their story is told in full in the book by CE Lucas Phillips titled Cockleshell Heroes. It is worth dwelling on this raid since it puts into perspective the amount of training and attention to detail that was necessary to achieve the aim. It is also worth remembering that despite all that training only four of the party reached their objective.
The stores carried in each cockle
(in addition to what was being worn) were

Boat’s gear

Double paddles (3 pairs)
Dim reading torch (with spare batteries)
Handgrips
Protractors
Bailer and sponge
Camouflage net Magnetic Holder Waterproofed watch
Codline (120 feet) Tin of camouflage cream Set of five cargo bags
Escape kit Canvas repair bag Compass & corrector
Tide tables Pencil Paper and chart

Weapons and explosives

Each canoeist carried a Colt Automatic revolver and a knife and there was one Sten gun per three canoes.

Each canoe carried

2 No 69 Grenades 8 limpet mines 2 fuse boxes
2 limpet mine placing rods (to get below the waterline)

Food and Medical

Compo rations for 2 men 5 days 2 morphine syringes 5 half gallon water cans
5 hexamine cookers 1 box Benzedrine tablets 5 pint Dixie (cooking pot)
Water sterilising sets Tin of foot powder 2 field dressings
WT ditty box Bottle of Iodine Tin of cough lozenges
2 packets toilet paper Tin of laxative pills

Spare clothing and accessories (per man)

Pair of shorts Pair of felt sole boots Toothbrush and paste
Pair of socks Towel Roll neck sweater
Handkerchief Spare woollen gloves Sea water soap
20 cigarettes Razor and blades (1 brush per two men) Extra box of matches

The patrol report of the Lieutenant Dick Raikes (CO of HMS Tuna) also makes interesting reading because it sums up the risks involved to the landing submarine, and the skills involved in initiating the Operation.

“From HMS Tuna to Flag Officer Submarines – Report on Operation Frankton

The proud tradition of close co-operation between the Royal Navy Submarine Service and the Royal Marines Special Boat Squadron prevails to this very day.

Later developments were the ‘Sleeping Beauty’, an electrically powered one-man canoe. These were used during ‘Operation Rimau’ in the Far East, when sadly the party of SAS commandos landed from HMS Porpoise were intercepted and killed early in the operation. An example of this canoe can be seen in The Royal Marines Museum at Eastney.

Another variation was the ‘Dalgety Canoe’ which you will have seen in the Weapons Gallery. This metal canoe folded at the bow and stern for ease of stowage, and was equipped with a sail and paddles to save the energy of the two man crew. It also had extendible outriggers (turning it into a trimaran) to enhance its stability if sea conditions warranted it. The canoeists’ equipment was stored in watertight tanks in the folding sections of the canoe. It was used on a number of occasions in the Far East.

In 1908 when completing his “service in a ship-of-war at sea” in HMS Monmouth on the China Station, a young submarine commanding officer, Lieutenant Godfrey Herbert, came up with the germ of the idea of the Human Torpedo. When his submarine HMS D5 sank under him after hitting a mine in 1914(ironically a rogue British mine that had come adrift from a defensive minefield off Great Yarmouth), he once again put his mind to the concept. German mines and torpedoes were sinking British mercantile shipping almost at will, and Herbert felt that the time was ripe for daring invention to redress the balance. What he designed was the Devastator, a compromise between a submarine and a torpedo. Its one man crew, seated in a buoyant compartment, would steer the weapon towards the target using a periscope from a range (say) of ten miles, and as soon as a hit was guaranteed, the pilot would eject the chamber from the Devastator using a charge of compressed air. An automatic tank would fill to compensate for the loss of weight in order to keep the ‘missile’ at the correct depth. The pilot would then bob around in his chamber (air bag lined for comfort) until a rescue ship picked him up. The idea interested their Lordships at the Admiralty, however it was so ‘underhand’ that it was not taken any further at that juncture, and anyway Herbert went on to continue his remarkable submarine career before he put it into production.

For further information on this outstanding commanding officer (who fired the first British torpedo salvo in war) you should read ‘Amazing Adventure’ by E. Keble Chatterton which you should be able to find in a Library (or visit the Museum!)

The Italian Navy did develop a sea-going prototype of a ‘human torpedo’. They had had success in 1918 when Rossetti and Paolucci sank the Austrian Flagship Viribus Unitas with their Mignetta (leech). In the early 1930s two Italian engineer sub-lieutenants, Tesai and Toschi, inspired by the Magnetta, once again brought the concept to life, convinced that the only way to undermine the might of the British Mediterranean Fleet was to attack it in harbour.

The craft itself was similar in size and shape to a torpedo on which two operators – the pilot (responsible for navigation and control) and his number two (the net-cutter and explosive planter) – straddled themselves. It was battery propelled and could make about 3 knots. There was a windshield at the front which diverted the water flow, and the two operators were dressed in rubber suits and breathing apparatus. The weapon, a quick release detachable magnetic warhead (220lb) with a delayed action fuse, constituted the nose of the torpedo. When released, trim was restored to the craft by flooding water into a trim tank.

The human torpedoes were transported to their area of operations in canisters welded onto the back of a mother submarine. Once in the launch position (ten miles or so from the target), the submarine would broach, and the operators, already dressed for action, would make their way onto the casing to prepare their craft for flotation. At a given signal the mother submarine would slowly dive giving the swimmers time to ease out the torpedoes from the canisters. Once launch had been achieved the mother submarine would withdraw to a safe area to await her chicks’ return. It must be said that this rarely happened in any navy that operated such craft!

Despite early disappointments the Italians persevered, and scored major successes in Gibraltar Harbour in September 1941 and more significantly, in Alexandria Harbour in December. It was this attack that personified the strength of the submarine/swimmer delivery vehicle combination – bold in concept; brilliant in execution; highly effective in result – when six Italian frogmen, led by Cdr Count Luigi de la Penne, on three chariots landed from the Italian submarine Sirce penetrated into Alexandria Harbour and placed explosives on the British battleships Valiant and the Queen Elizabeth, and a nearby tanker. All six charioteers were captured, but they put a significant element of the British Mediterranean Fleet on the bottom. Fortunately for the British the bottom was not far away, and the upperworks of both ships remained well clear of the surface. To fool Italian reconnaissance aircraft into thinking that the raid had failed, apparently normal operations were conducted on a day to day basis. Smoke came out of funnels, guns were trained, and all the routine ceremonial rituals performed as if nothing had happened. In fact below the waterline frantic repair efforts were being made which lasted several weeks. Had the Axis realised the truth then Admiral Cunningham, with only a few operational ships at his disposal, could have been driven out of the Mediterranean, with potentially disastrous consequences for the Allies.

Following the Italian success in Alexandria a bruised Prime Minister (Winston Churchill had also lost HMS Repulse and Prince of Wales to the Japanese 10 days earlier in the Far East) demanded the establishment of a British Chariot Force. The task was given to Commanders Geoffrey Sladen DSO* DSC (former CO of HMS Tribune) and WR Fell OBE DSO. These two experienced submarine commanding officers were vastly different in character and physical build, but between them they moulded a highly motivated and thoroughly trained team of young volunteers in a remarkably short space of time.

‘Tiny’ Fell was seven years older than Sladen, and undoubtedly the quieter of the two. Sladen was an aggressive giant (he had won four caps playing rugby for England) and had been an outstanding submarine commanding officer, winning the bar to his DSO for putting the German pocket battleship Prinz Eugene out of action for over a year. While in Tribune he also shared his cabin for three weeks with a reindeer called ‘Pollyanna’ (but that is another story!). He was nicknamed ‘Slasher’ because of his intense dislike for ‘red tape’ and inefficiency. He was well liked by his men, although he evinced copious curses of his invention of the ‘Sladen Suit’ an all-singing, all dancing coverall for his charioteers which was popularly known as ‘Clammy Death’.

There was real chemistry between Sladen and Fell, and when they advertised for men willing to undergo training for ‘hazardous duty’, they found no shortage of volunteers. Few of these daring young men (who came from all branches of the Royal Navy) had little idea of what they were letting themselves in for, but they may have begun to get a clue when, as part of the initial selection process, they were equipped with a Davis Submarine Escape Apparatus (DSEA) and invited to sit at 30 feet in the Escape Training Tank in HMS Dolphin for extended periods. This simple test was to examine their reaction to neat oxygen which can be lethal to many human metabolisms below this depth, causing uncontrollable twitching of the lips, light-headedness and hallucinations. The gas was colloquially known as ‘Oxygen Pete’ for this very reason. If they were successful after this initial sifting process they went for further training to HMS Titania in Loch Carnbawn in the Western Isles of Scotland.

Seventy men in all were trained. Theirs was a frustrating war, because despite their enthusiasm and gruelling and dangerous training, target opportunities were few and far between. Nevertheless Lieutenants RTG Greenland RNVR and Lieutenant Malcolm Causer RNR were awarded the DSO for raids on Palermo and La Spezia respectively and a raft of other awards were gained for a variety of deeds of gallantry. The only successful recovery by a submarine of charioteers following a mission was by Lieutenant A Hezlet DSO DSC in HMS Trenchant when he re-embarked four human torpedomen following a productive raid on Japanese shipping in Phuket Harbour in Thailand. These men had used the British MkII Chariot, and in the Weapons Gallery we have an example of an Italian MkII ‘Maiale’ (pig).

One of the Phuket survivors (S/Lt Tony Eldridge DSC RNVR) tells his story in his autobiography ‘Just out of Sight’, and Pam Mitchell’s book ‘Tip of the Spear’ recounts the full story of the British Charioteer Force. Both are on sale through the Submarine Giftshop catalogue.

The most awesome of all human torpedoes was that built by the Japanese. Known as the Kaiten (Heaven Shaker) they were the underwater equivalent of the Kamikaze (Divine Wind) aircraft. Japan had reached such a level of despair in 1944 through defeats at sea and in the air that they had to resort to the ‘last ditch’ strategy of suicide attacks. Their Kamikaze pilots had achieved some success in the Gulf of Layte in the Philippines, and so it was intended to use the Kaitens against US concentrations of invasion and supply forces as they got closer to the Motherland. The Kaiten was a Type 93 torpedo of 24 inches diameter with a hollow compartment half way down its length in which the pilot sat totally enclosed. He had a gyro, plane control stick, and a periscope to help him manoeuvre his craft to its destination. Driven by a liquid oxygen motor it had a speed of about thirty knots, a range of over 12 miles, and delivered a massive 1550kg warhead. It was carried in numbers (four or six) by large supply/reconnaissance submarines for which the Japanese (misguidedly) had a strong penchant. The modus operandi would be for the mother submarine to approach the target destination to a safe distance, administer the last rites to the pilots, and then release the torpedoes to be steered towards the target. This combination enjoyed very few successes, and it is known that a significant number of young, very inexperienced volunteers died in training as well as abortive attempts to sink enemy shipping. About 400 were built.

We move up a scale now to those midget submarines that were carried on the casing of a mother ship. Once again we find them under the Japanese ensign. They were known as the A Type, which had the shape of a torpedo but were 78 feet long and had a diameter of 6 feet. They were crewed by two men, had two 18in. torpedo tubes, and were powered by an electric motor that gave them a surface speed of 23 knots and an incredible 19 kts dived. Their range was 18 miles. Given these parameters, without a rechargeable battery, it is easy to guess that they were designed for a one way mission. They fitted into the grand Japanese naval design as front-running assets that were designed to attrite the enemy (whether in harbour or at sea) in readiness for the ‘mighty blow’, the decisive naval battle. In effect this battle never took place, and like much of the rest of the Japanese submarine strength, they were ineffective and, because over 200 were built, a huge waste of human and material resource. Five were carried to Pearl Harbour by mother submarines, and all perished with the CO of one becoming the first Japanese POW of WWII. Their only success was against HMS Ramilies and an escort tanker in Madagascar in 1942 – it is noteworthy that on this and other occasions, once the operation was complete or had failed, the pilots either shot themselves or scuttled their machines without attempting to get out. As well as the Type A, the Japanese also built Koryu midgets (five man crew), the Kairyu (three man) and the Type C. Literally hundreds of these craft were built, but few were able to be brought into action. There is a model of a Type C in the Museum.

Like Japan when faced with the prospect of invasion, Germany turned to the midget submarine in an attempt to provide a meaningful defensive force. Like Japan their adoption of the craft was an admission that their naval strategy had failed, and like those of the Japanese, they were a disastrous failure. The German midget submarine operators were poorly trained (indeed Doenitz banned his regular submariners from volunteering for service in them), and they were so poorly designed and built so quickly that they were as lethal to their crews as they were to their potential targets. Nigers and Molchs were human torpedoes; Biebers and Seehunds were midget submarines carrying two external torpedoes. Once again hundreds were built, with large numbers being destroyed in action or lost through accident. There is an example of a Bieber in the Museum.
The two midget submarine forces who were successful were the Italians and the British. Like the charioteer forces, the men of the two specialist branches shared the common qualities of being well trained, highly motivated, determined and totally professional Although midget submarines operations were exceptionally dangerous, they were not deliberately suicidal, and there was always the assumption (if not the reality) that the crews would be recovered.

The Italians built 26 midgets of varying sizes that carried two, three or four crew members. Perhaps the most daring plan for their use was, in late 1942, for CA2 to be carried across the Atlantic by a mother submarine (Leonardo da Vinci) to conduct an attack against New York harbour. For reasons unknown, the plan was never implemented. These little submarines were however sent to the Black Sea to aid the Germans in their war against Russia, where they achieved some notable successes by destroying three Russian submarines.

I turn now to the British X-Craft. Perhaps the most extraordinary fact of many extraordinary facts surrounding these wonderful midget submarines was that many of them were built by engineering companies miles inland and with little maritime background! The reasons for doing so were that Vickers Ltd of Barrow, the traditional submarine builders were overwhelmed with work replacing losses; there had to be a great deal of secrecy surrounding the programme, and manufacturers had to be ‘off the beaten track’ of German bombers. The companies selected were Broadbents of Huddersfield, Markham’s of Chesterfield, and Marshall’s of Gainsborough. The extent to which the secrets of the programme had been meticulously guarded were typified by the construction of HMS X4 in early 1942 , the second prototype. One half was constructed in Hull, and the other in Bursledon*, with the assembly undertaken in Portsmouth Harbour. This was a time and motion nightmare that was relieved by the introduction of the excellent engineering firms mentioned earlier into the manufacturing process.

*Bursledon in Hampshire is one of the most historic ship-building sites in the United Kingdom. Alfred the Great built some of his ships there, and Henry V the greatest of all ‘naval’ monarchs, built some dry docks on the River Hamble on which Bursledon lies. Henry V’s brilliance as a strategist was demonstrated by his use of his Navy to deny his opposition (the French) the capability to muster their naval strength by shipping his army to France and denying them the use of their ports (through the capture of Cherbourg and Le Havre). In essence he invented amphibiosity.

The X-craft was the brain-child of Commander HL ‘Rabbit’ Rendell, a WW1 submariner who had been sunk in HMS K1 in 1917, and whose health had never recovered from the dose of chlorine gas poisoning he had experienced before he managed to escape. He was appointed by Admiral Max Horton (Flag Officer Submarines) to liaise on the construction and trials of the X-craft between the Admiralty and the other interested parties, and the building programme started in 1940.

The characteristics of the craft were as follows;

Displacement 30 tons
Length 16m (52ft)
Beam 1.77m (6ft)
Propulsion Gardner diesel engine
Single electric motor
Speed 6 kts (surfaced and dived)
Armament: 2 x 3570lb charges of Amatol (high explosive)
Limpet mines
Crew 3 men (passage) 4 men (operational)
Nos. delivered 14 X-craft
11 XE-craft (slightly bigger with air conditioning)
Fuel Approx. I ton giving a radius of operation of

To imagine what it was like to operate inside an X-Craft, I suggest you find three friends and then go and have a party in a broom-cupboard! At Action Stations the Captain could lean over and touch his three crew members. It was not difficult to find volunteers for this ‘hazardous duty’, and they came from every background. As well as full-career Royal Navy Officers, there were RN Reserve (RNR), RN Volunteer Reserve (RNVR), and members of the Royal Australian Navy, Royal New Zealand Navy and the South African Naval Forces.

Their training was conducted in Loch Striven, an isolated Loch in the West of Scotland, on their depot Ship, HMS Bonaventure which shared the water with HMS Malaya, an obsolete WW1 Battleship which was used as a training target. The support staff were accommodated ashore in HMS Varbel. The training was rugged and thorough, with the crews exercised in every aspect of an operation, including cutting through nets. It also included each X-craft being subjected to depth charge explosions to familiarise the crews with what it was like being under attack. Nerves of steel were essential for their own protection as well as that of their fellow men. This training carried a price, with two men losing their lives through accident.

Their modus operandi was for the X-craft to be manned by a passage crew and towed to the vicinity of the area of interest by a mother submarine. Once in this position the operational crew would be ferried over to the X-craft by rubber boat, and the by now exhausted passage crew, whose job it was to keep the craft in tip-top condition during the trip, would return to ‘mother’. The fourth member of the operational crew, in addition to the Captain, First Lieutenant, and Engineer was a diver. These craft were fitted with a ‘wet & dry'(W&D) chamber which allowed for the egress/recovery of the diver after he had cleared obstructions (eg defensive nets), or had laid his charges (limpets). The overall aim was to get the X-craft, undetected and undamaged, under the target and slip the side charges. These large underwater bombs had a time fuze (set from inside the hull), and were released by letting go a bottle-screw slip (also from inside the hull). Once the operation was complete the X-craft then withdrew to rejoin ‘mother’, reversing the procedure described above.

It all sounds straightforward, but it is almost impossible to describe the debilitating conditions experienced by the crews. ‘Facilities’ were basic to say the least; cooking was conducted on an old fashioned ‘glue pot’; and sleep was practically impossible, although there was a single bunk in the battery compartment which was forward of the W&D chamber. Nevertheless the X-craft was a perfect submarine in miniature. It had diesel electric propulsion (its diesel engine was the same design that drove the redoubtable London Buses during the Blitz); it had a periscope and packed a mighty punch.

Before describing a couple of operations in which these submarines took part the following is a list of decorations gained by this very small team of heroes

4 Victoria Crosses
8 Distinguished Service Orders (DSO)
15 Distinguished Service Crosses (DSC)
2 Conspicuous Gallantry Medals (CGM)
4 Distinguished Service Medals (DSM)
26 Mention in Despatches (MiD)

Operation Source – the attack against TIRPITZ
Operation Guidance – the attack against Laksevaag Floating Dock
Operation Heckle – the second attack on Bergen
Operations Sabre and Struggle – Far East Operations

Operation Source – the attack against TIRPITZ

The Tirpitz was one of a family of German Battleships built as surface raiders, and posed a dire threat to Allied convoys. Churchill had dubbed this 41,000 ton monster The Beast. Her very existence bought up a huge commitment in the Royal Navy’s heavy units in guarding against her, and her sisters Scharnhorst and Lutzow, from breaking out into the Atlantic from their lairs, Kaafjord and Langefjord, in Northern Norway,. In these waters, surrounded by steep sided mountains, they were virtually invulnerable to attack. Churchill wrote of Tirpitz in early 1943 It exercises a vague general fear, and menaces all parts at once. It appears and disappears, causing immediate reactions and perturbation on the other side. If she were only crippled and rendered unseaworthy the entire naval situation throughout the world would be altered and the naval command in the Pacific would be regained. His wish was about to be fulfilled. (Click here for detailed version of the diagram)

In late August, after many months of training and careful planning, Operation Source got underway with the arrival of the depot ship Titania and the six towing submarines in Loch Cairnbawn, the latter to pick up their charges. The plan was for HMS X5, X6 and X7 to attack the Tirpitz, X9 and X10 to attack Scharnhorst, and X8 to attack Lutzow. In the event during the passage X8 parted her tow, but was recovered, however X9 simply disappeared. The four remaining submarines moved in for the attack, but in the process X10 developed serious mechanical faults and her Captain (Lieutenant Ken Hudspeth DSC** RANVR), fearing that he might compromise the operation took the heartbreaking, but correct decision, to withdraw. On the return journey, so bad were her defects that she had to be scuttled. The three that were left pressed on, however X5 was sighted by the now alerted Germans, and a destroyer was despatched to drop depth charges on a spot where her periscope had broken surface. An eye-witness recalls seeing wreckage and an oil slick following this attack. It was nevertheless a wonderful feat on her part to have penetrated so close to her target.

Her feat was however surpassed by X6 (Donald Cameron) and X7 (Godfrey Place) who managed to place their ‘eggs’ under The Beast. All four of the crew of X6 were captured, while only two men managed to escape from X7. Place and Cameron were both standing on Tirpitz’ upper deck when their charges exploded and flung the mighty battleship six feet in the air. Thus Churchill’s beast was tamed, and for this extraordinary feat, both Cameron and Place were awarded the Victoria Cross.

Operation Guidance – the attack against Laksevaag Floating Dock

The Laksvaag floating dock was a highly important target in Bergen because it was widely used by U-boats and it was thought capable of taking the crippled Tirpitz. In April 1944 the decision was taken to destroy it, and the X-craft selected for the mission was HMS X24 under the command of Lieutenant Max Shean DSO* RANVR, and the towing submarine HMS Sceptre (Lieutenant -later Vice Admiral Sir – Ian McIntosh DSO MBE DSC Royal Navy). The operation was brilliantly conducted, however instead of sinking the floating dock, X24 sank the secondary target M/V Bahrenfels which had a very similar silhouette to that of the dock. Nevertheless the success was warmly received, and once again demonstrated the enormous value of these little craft and the magnificence of their crews.

Operation Heckle – the second attack on Bergen

The target was revisited in September ’44, once again by HMS X24 but this time under the command of Lieutenant Percy Westmacott DSO*DSC* RN, and once again the towing submarine was HMS Sceptre. Once again the operation was conducted in brilliant fashion, despite the passage in being a nightmare of dense traffic with the ever constant threat of mines, and this time the dock was totally destroyed.

The Museum is extraordinarily proud to have HMS X24 as part of the collection – the only X-craft on display anywhere that saw operational service during WWII.

Operations Sabre and Struggle- Far East Operations

In February 1945, with the war in Europe now concentrated on land, it was decided to despatch HMS Bonaventure (under the command of Captain Fell, the Charioteer trainer) and six XE craft to the Far East. They arrived in July, but Admiral Nimitz, The United States Naval Commander in the Pacific set his face against their employment in his theatre because he regarded the little submarines as ‘suicide craft’ – a concept he wanted nothing to do with. Despite Captain Fell’s pleading for employment, the local area commander, Rear Admiral James Fife initially refused to budge. Then at the last moment, just before despondency broke the spirit of the crews, he identified two tasks were that were ideal for the use of X-craft.

The first was striking two heavy Japanese cruisers, Takao and Myoko, lying in the Jahore Straits off Singapore which, although damaged by earlier American attacks, could threaten an allied invasion of Malaya (now Malaysia) through broadsides from their large guns. (Operation Struggle). The second was cutting the underwater telephone cables between Singapore, Saigon, Hong Kong and Tokyo. The purpose of doing this was to force the Japanese to use the air-waves for communication, thereby making it easier to intercept their radio traffic (Operation Sabres and Foil).

For Operation Sabre HMS XE4 (Lt Max Shean DSO* RANVR) was towed to within forty miles of the Mekong Delta by HMS Spearhead (Commander RE Youngman DSC RNR). Looking for the two cables as they snaked out of the Saigon River and snagging them by a towed grapnel was rather like looking for a needle in a haystack, but Shean spotted some Japanese heavy guns pointing out to sea and followed the line of their fire. By crossing at right angles to this line he eventually snagged the first of the cables, and by using the speed of XE4 raised it about ten feet off the bottom. His diver (Sub Lieutenant KM Briggs DSC RANVR) wasted no time, despite the difficulties of combating the tide, in operating the net/cable cutter (there is an example of this cutter in the Museum). Shean soon found the second cable, and the second diver (Sub Lieutenant Adam Bergius DSC RNVR) wasted no time in matching his partner’s success. The reason for carrying two divers was a result of the aftermath of two tragedies a few weeks earlier when Lieutenants Carey and Enzer had died during training as a result of oxygen poisoning from their breathing sets. The rule of thumb that a diver should not spend more than 20 minutes outside the hull in depths over 33ft and no more than 10 minutes over 40ft dictated that for an operation of unknown duration, two divers should be carried. The extra body onboard made living conditions even cosier than normal!

Operation Foil was to tackle the Hong Kong end of the cable with the assignment being given to HMS XE5 (Lt HP Westmacott DSO DSC RN) towed by HMS Selene (Lieutenant Commander HRB Newton DSC RN). The ensuing operation was described by Captain Fell as “one of the most daring, dangerous, and tenacious operations of the war”. As well as operating well inshore close to Lamma Island, his divers, Lt BG Clarke DSC RNVR and S/Lt DVM Jarvis DSC RNVR, had a particularly torrid time scrabbling around in thick mud under the constant threat of ‘oxygen pete’. Jarvis had made his sortie dressed only in swimming trunks and breathing apparatus, and had the misfortune to operate the cutter on his finger which broke the bone and caused heavy bleeding. In addition his body had been badly stung by Portuguese men-o-war jellyfish. He was in so much distress when he re-embarked through the W&D compartment that Westmacutt laid him down in the battery compartment, told him to roll over onto his tummy, because his Captain was about to stick a needle in his bum to give him some morphine. Jarvis’ response was ‘God! if it isn’t one thing it’s another!’ Despite all the challenges, the operation was a success.

Operation Struggle was a story of extraordinary courage which earnt two Victoria Crosses. I can do no better than to quote the personal story of the captain of HMS XE3 (Lieutenant Ian ‘Titch’ Fraser VC DSC)

“At this stage of the war the Japanese were in retreat. Already British Troops had taken Rangoon and were fast moving towards the heavily defended harbour of Singapore. These two large warships (Takao and Myoko) with their eight inch guns were a potential menace to any forces approaching by land and trying to cross the causeway from the mainland to the island (of Singapore) and could also play havoc among any allied shipping attacking from seaward. It was imperative that they be put out of action as soon as possible.

The task of sinking Myoko had been allocated to HMS XE1, under the command of Lieutenant JE Smart, while Takao was to be the target for HMS XE3, with Lieutenant Fraser in command. His crew, whom he had picked long ago, while they were still at their home base of Rothesay, were Sub. Lieut. ‘Kiwi’ Smith, a New Zealander, Engine Room Artificer Charley Reid, and Leading Seaman ‘Mac’ Magennis. The passage crew would have the long and arduous task of manning the midget while it was being towed by HMS Stygian (Lieutenant GC Clarabut DSO DSC RN) to the target area.

The passage from Brunei to a spot within striking distance of Singapore took four days and when time for changeover came, Ogden (S/Lt Frank Ogden MBE RNVR) and his crew handed over XE3 in tip top condition. This was no mean feat. In those warm tropical waters the inside of the boat was like an oven and with continuous watch-being kept for all that time, keeping the correct depth, constantly checking the density of the batteries, maintaining the equipment and the never ending mopping-up of the condensation, the job of the passage crew was by no means a ‘soft number’.

At 0600 on July 30th came the time for changeover. Each member of the operational crew checked the escape gear with which they had been issued should the craft be disabled and they had to cross enemy territory. Some of the gear afforded them a good deal of amusement.

First and foremost was a square of silk with a Union Jack printed on it, surrounded by various expressions in three or four different languages, like ‘I am a friend’; ‘Please help me to find British Territory’, or, ‘I am hungry’. Another silk oilskin square, when unfolded disclosed a map of the Malay Peninsula and was marked with the best routes for making an escape, or a quick passage to a pick-up point on the coast. Compasses were disguised as buttons or pen-clips, or sewn into the lining of a cap badge; a file had a hacksaw blade for an edge and a rubber cover for inserting, with considerable discomfort, into the rectum; a packet contained 48hr rations, medical equipment, Benzedrine, boxes of matches and various other items reckoned to be useful against mosquitoes, leeches, and other jungle pests. In addition each man had a machete, fishing gear and a heavy .45 Colt automatic pistol, which as Fraser says ‘took me all my time to lift’.

From a storage space onboard HMS Stygian a yellow circular aircraft dinghy was manhandled, laid on the casing and inflated by means of a compressed air cylinder. A light grass rope was made fast to the towing bracket of the dinghy, then it was pushed over the side. Fraser and his men slipped into it and with the grass line being paid out from the submarine, the dinghy slowly drifted back the 200 yards to XE3.

The change over was accomplished without a hitch and HMS Stygian, with XE3 still in tow, continued on its way. The passage crew, now being able to stand upright for the first time since leaving Brunei, settled down to the comparative luxury of life in a big submarine for a few days.

D-Day for the operation was July 31st and at 2300 hrs on the 30th XE3 was slipped from her tow in position 036 degrees from Horsburgh light. Fraser and his crew were now on their own.

The operation had been made rather easier for them by the fact that the Captain of the submarine had taken them two and a half miles further than first planned. However their luck was not to hold all the time, for although Intelligence reports had briefed them that the buoys marking the swept channel through the minefield were lit, all except Horsburgh Light were extinguished.

In the absence of lights and with the help of some rather dubious land-fixes, the passage was made as Fraser described it ‘by guess and by God’. At 0217 hrs the main engine was stopped and they crept silently past a listening post using the motor only. After half an hour Fraser fixed his position 129 degrees Johore Hill 8.3 miles. XE3 then went ahead on main engine at 4.5 kts on course 280 degrees.

The Captain was still sitting on the casing when he sighted what he thought was a channel buoy. XE3 closed to within fifty yards of the object and made the startling discovery that it was a fishing boat! A hurried alteration of course was made but apparently XE3 had not been seen, which was extremely fortunate. All on board must have been asleep for the submarine was between the fishing boat and a very bright moon.

Another ‘thrill’ was experienced an hour and twenty minutes later, when two ships suddenly came into view. They looked like a large tanker and an escorting motor launch. They appeared to be closing at high speed, so Fraser gave the order to dive. They dived, hurriedly, and remained sitting on the bottom for twenty minutes. Then they surfaced and noted with horror that the two vessel were still in the vicinity, heading straight towards them, and now even closer. Again came the shouted order ‘Dive, dive, dive’ and down went the craft again.

They were now minus a very important part of their navigation equipment, for when they had made that first hurried dive they had bumped along the bottom rather hard for a distance and in doing so had damaged the log. This was the piece of equipment registering the speed of the craft and the distance travelled. Their passage towards Singapore would now be even more ‘by guess and by God’!

Under way once more, steering north, the midget carried on towards its destination. Fraser switched on the echo-sounder which registered the depth of the sea beneath him. It showed the depth as a blob on a green electronic line in a way somewhat like a radar screen. He continued on that course until the machine indicated that the Johore Shoal was being crossed, just to the westward of the buoy. Then, with the depth held at thirty feet the craft made her way slowly up the Johore Strait.

By now the crew were feeling the effects of a night without sleep, so they each took a Benzedrine tablet, and rested until the effects of the pill ‘kicked’ in. In addition Fraser released some oxygen into the atmosphere and spread around some ‘protosorb’ (carbon dioxide remover). By 0800, refreshed, they were ready to get through the boom guarding the harbour and carry out the attack. Inside the boom, which appeared to have a permanently open gate, the water was oily flat calm, and Fraser dare not raise his periscope more than a few inches, and then only for a fraction of time. At 1250 Takao came into view to the crew’s great delight and anticipation. However there was to be one more alarum before the target was reached, and that was when Fraser, during one of his snatched glimpses saw a liberty boat full of Japanese sailors about 40 feet away. He could see their lips moving as they chatted! With a cry of ‘Bloody Hell!’ he quickly took the craft to 30 feet. Unbelievably they seemed to have got way without being seen.

At last they reached Takao and bumped alongside her with a resounding clang. After one false start which left them perilously close to the surface, Fraser manoeuvred XE3 into position under the target with barely a foot of water to the keel of the Cruiser. Meanwhile Magennis had made himself ready to go outside to plant his limpet mines to the side of the hull, although he had seen through the night periscope how much marine growth he would have to clear before the magnets would be effective. Despite not being able to open the W&D hatch fully, Magennis squeezed himself out and set to work. During the next thirty minutes, an agony for both the diver and the waiting crew, Magennis finally succeeded in his task and re-entered the craft. Now it was time to release the side cargoes, one now empty and the other packed full of two tons of high explosive. They operated the release handwheels, and the HE charge fell away, but the limpet carrier refused to budge. The chances of making it back to HMS Stygian were very remote indeed encumbered by a flooded side cargo. The immediate task though was to disengage from Takao which had slowly settled with the tide and was now sitting on the X-craft. Perhaps that escape equipment suddenly started to look more appealing! After much thrashing with the motor and pumping water around every conceivable tank, at last the tiny submarine began to move, her broken wing trailing by her side. But her trials were not over yet, because the limpet carrier had to be ditched, and the only way to do it was by hand which meant someone having to go outside the hull. Magennis was patently exhausted by his earlier efforts, so Fraser decided to go himself. Magennis reacted sharply to this – it was his responsibility – so this brave little Irishman once again donned his breathing apparatus. Armed with a large spanner he made his way into the W&D compartment and out of the hatch. The only sound that the waiting trio inside XE3 could hear was the clangs of the spanner, in Fraser’s words ‘loud enough to alarm the whole Japanese Navy’ let alone Takao, who was only a few yards away. After five long minutes the job aws done, and once again Magennis was safely back on board, totally worn out.

The return passage was less traumatic than the run in, but it required skilful handling by all members of the crew. At 2130 the charges exploded and the threat of Takao was removed, and at 2345 HMS Stygian aws sighted, and at 0330 the crews were exchanged and the tow was passed.

So ended a quite remarkable feat of courage, endurance and brilliant improvisation, which although it was to have little tangible effect on the military aspects of the WWII since the A-bombs were soon to be dropped on Japan, it had wonderful benefits for morale in those countries who were still occupied by Japanese forces. For their deeds Lieutenant Ian Fraser and Leading Seaman James Magennis were awarded the Victoria Cross.