A Christmas in service
After gruelling months escorting convoys to Russia, 19-year-old Charlie Erswell’s ship HMS Milne had been sent to the Mediterranean to support Operation Torch, the Allied landings in North Africa. On Christmas Eve 1942, she left Mers-elkebir on her way back to Scotland As Christmas Day was being celebrated back home, the Milne was at sea, being detached from the convoy at 1100 hours to refuel at Gibraltar, before rejoining later that day. Although we were headed back to colder climes, there was a general feeling of happiness that we were returning to home waters.
However, the feeling of comfort was short-lived as, only a couple of days into the voyage, at 0340 hours on 28 December 1942, Captain Campbell received orders to redirect. He made an announcement over the tannoy system, advising us that the Milne had received orders to change course and we were heading for the Atlantic. There was a convoy in trouble that needed our assistance, and we were to proceed with all haste to provide it for them. We were told to stay alert and be ready to do our duty.
The convoy Campbell was referring to was 0N154. This was a large group of ships heading from Liverpool to America with a cargo of ballast and trade goods. Some of the ships would be detached to sail south and drop off goods at Freetown in Sierra Leone on the West African coast. Because of this, they would sail on a more southerly course than was normal and so lose air cover early on as they journeyed out of the range of the planes from Coastal Command. Waiting for them was a large number of German submarines from the Spitz and
Ungestum U-boat groups. With the threat of air support gone, the U-boats would be able to wreak havoc among the convoy, sinking many ships with ease. An urgent message was sent to the Admiralty for assistance.
The next morning at 0730 hours, the Meteor reported sighting a vessel. Campbell, on the Milne, ordered them to proceed to investigate. Twelve minutes later, flares were seen in the sky and the Milne headed off in their direction. ‘Every available man to the port side,’ came the message over the tannoy system, and so I and the members of ‘B’ turret, along with many other shipmates, jumped to obey the order.
In the near distance I could see four lifeboats bobbing in the water. Quickly we dragged up cargo nets and hauled some of them over the side, attaching them firmly to the gunwales. We watched as the ship drew closer, the men in the lifeboats paddling furiously to get nearer to us. They looked dishevelled and highly stressed, but at the same time mightily relieved they were being rescued from a choppy and cold sea. None was wearing uniform. These were all merchant sailors.
Seeing a young boy with them, I asked him how old he was. Shivering, he told me he was 14 years old. For a brief second I thought back to the time I had tried to join the Navy as a boy entrant at that same age. I was not too sure now whether that would have been such a good idea. Maybe the recruiting officer and my father had done me a favour after all.
As more men climbed over the gunwale onto the safety of the ship, the Milne’s crew became aware that these were the survivors of not one, but three merchant ships. Sitting in the mess deck a little later, once all the men had been recovered,
I spoke to one of them who was sipping gratefully at a cup of tea. I asked him which ship he had been on.
He advised me he had been on the Baron Cochrane, but there were many sailors rescued from other ships, the Lynton Grange and the Zarian. He went on to tell me that the Germans had attacked them at about 2130 the previous night, and all three ships had gone down virtually together. From what he had witnessed, it looked like the majority of the crews had managed to get off the ships before they went under. He explained that they had been in the lifeboats all night and had been extremely relieved to see us coming to pick them up.
My respect and admiration for these men was already high and listening to his story now enhanced it even further.
And then he told me something that shocked me. The despondent look on all the merchant sailors’ faces was not purely down to the fact they had just been through a harrowing experience. Each of them we spoke to said that he needed to get onto another ship as quickly as possible. They explained to us that when a merchant ship was sunk, the surviving crew’s pay stops at that point. With no ship, there is no more need for a crew and therefore no obligation to pay their wages. We were also told that should any of the men head home, they would be faced with further problems. Some of them, without ration books and with homes in the big cities which might have been destroyed by bombing, would be returning to find no job, no house, no money and no ration book. They needed to get back on a ship pretty much whether they wanted to or not.
I was shocked and saddened to hear of this lack of support for our merchant sailors. I was horrified to learn that, despite the bravery of these men in sailing in such harsh waters with minimal protection other than that provided by the escort ships, they were treated so shabbily by their own country. It did not sit right with me at all.
HMS Milne rescued 143 men from the three ships before rejoining convoy ON154. Charlie Erswell served with the Royal Navy until June 1946, after which he spent three years as a merchant seaman. He died 19.10.2021.
John R Mckay served in the RAF before pursuing a career with the Fire and Rescue Service. He’s the author of seven published novels including The Worst Journey in the
World, set in the WW2 Arctic Convoys. This novel brought him in contact with Leading Seaman Charlie Erswell, whose life story he recorded for this book.