'I was stunned as I flew through the air'

There is plenty of information about this historic day – and the part Watford people played in it – in the second volume of our Watford in the 20th Century series (1939 to 1959). So rather than repeating that here, I thought I’d mark the occasion with this exciting tale concerning Watford’s adopted cruiser HMS Capetown. It’s not strictly speaking connected with D-Day, but is a cracking wartime tale which deserves to be heard.

The story begins with a letter I received this week from Ken Welch, a former employee of Watford’s Racal Electronics factory, concerning an ebook [electronic book] he’s just had published.

He wrote: “I am sure you are already aware, although I have only recently discovered this myself, that during World War II, the community of Watford adopted the “C” class cruiser, HMS Capetown, as part of the national Warship Week initiative.

“Throughout the war, the Government was constantly looking for new and innovative ways of raising money to support the war effort and many towns and cities collected money to buy aircraft such as Spitfires and Hurricanes outright.

“In the case of the Royal Navy, however, this was impractical as warships were too expensive and took several years to build. As an alternative, the Admiralty introduced Warship Week in February 1942, allowing communities to adopt existing ships, the size of ship linked to the funds raised. Watford obviously did very well, being allocated a cruiser armed with five six-inch guns.”

He continued: “HMS Capetown was one of the ships my father, Albert Welch, served on during the war and he was on her when she was torpedoed by an Italian motor torpedo boat in the Red Sea in 1941. Having been blown overboard by the blast, he was lucky to have survived but he managed to get back on board and the ship was eventually towed to the safety of Port Sudan.

“I have recorded my father’s full wartime experiences in an illustrated ebook entitled A Sailor at War 1939-1945, recently published in the Amazon Kindle store.”

He continued by asking whether Nostalgia readers might like a sneak preview of that part of the story which concerns HMS Capetown and, of course, I leaped at the chance.

Albert Welch RN

So here’s an edited version of Chapter Eight of the book, headed: Torpedoed.

Don’t forget that in addition to Mr Welch’s book at the Amazon Kindle store, our own Watford in the 20th Century series can all still be bought via our website. Click HERE for more details. Anyway, back to Torpedoed.

“At the beginning of April 1941, HMS Capetown was primarily involved in patrolling the Red Sea to the north of Berbera to ensure there was no interference with our supply convoys from what remained of the Italian Red Sea fleet based at Massawa.

“It was now thought the Italian fleet size was down to seven destroyers, five motor torpedo boats and eight submarines but Allied action, shortage of spare parts and lack of fuel had seriously reduced the capabilities of these remaining vessels.

“With the very high temperatures experienced during the day, many of our crew took to sleeping on deck at night to benefit from the cool breeze. On the evening of the 7th April I came off watch at 18.00 and went up on deck for a few hours to chat with a couple of shipmates, including my best mate Bill Boardman.

“As this day was in fact the first anniversary of my officially joining the navy, much of the conversation was about how much we had seen over the past year and how much our lives had been changed by these events.

“It was a beautiful moonlit night and Bill and I set up our wire and canvas camp beds on the upper deck. I quickly went off to sleep totally unaware that events were going to change our lives yet again.

“What we had not realised was that an Italian motor torpedo boat, the MAS213, had slipped out of Massawa and had been quietly stalking us in the darkness, slowly manoeuvring into a position slightly ahead of us where she had a perfect view of the Capetown silhouetted against the moonlight.

“At 02.30 the MTB fired two torpedoes and promptly turned, accelerating away at high speed. The attack was totally unexpected as Capetown, being an old ship, did not have the benefit of the more modern radar and sound detection technologies and was therefore totally dependent on the lookouts.

“Thankfully the first torpedo narrowly missed us, but before we could take evasive action, the second torpedo struck us amidships. The explosion was deafening and the blast lifted the ship, causing it to heel over to port alarmingly.

“We were lucky the Italian commander had not fired his spread of torpedoes a few seconds later as two hits would probably have broken the ship in half.

“Having been asleep when the torpedo struck, the blast immediately woke me to find myself being thrown through the port rail and over the side into the sea. The shock wave had driven the breath from my body and I was stunned as I flew through the air but the sudden immersion in water quickly brought home the realisation that we had been hit.

“As I struggled to the surface for air, however, my immediate concern was of being left behind in the darkness if the Capetown didn’t stop. Fortunately for me, the ship had quickly lost power and come to a standstill while Bill, realising what had happened, had already grabbed a rope and was running back along the port side to where he could hear me shouting as I swam towards the dark outline of the ship.

“It was a great relief when I finally felt that rope in my hands and, with me climbing and Bill pulling, he hauled me back on board.

“A number of my shipmates were not so lucky. One of the marines who was sleeping on deck near me had been thrown into the air by the blast and had come down on his chest across a bollard, causing massive internal injuries. The pain was so bad he kept asking to be thrown over the side to finish it. He clung to life for several hours but there was nothing that could be done for him and sadly he finally slipped away.

“Inside the ship, the torpedo had claimed more lives. The Petty Officer of the watch in the boiler room had just completed his check that everything was running normally and told the rest of the watch that he would go up topside and make the drinks. At the top of the ladder he stepped through the watertight door, closed it behind him and, just as he dogged the hatch, the torpedo exploded. The compartment that he had left seconds earlier was devastated by the blast and his watch were all killed, either in the explosion or drowned by the inrush of water.

“By the time I was hauled back on board, the injured were being taken care of and damage control parties were already checking out the ship and reporting our condition, although we all knew we were in bad shape.

“Leading the efforts to keep the ship afloat was Engineer Commander William Mathison, the Chief Engineer in charge of the boiler rooms, and he was later to be awarded the OBE for saving the ship.

“There was no panic during the incident, and the discipline and organisation was first class, but there was still an air of disbelief that this could have happened to us. After about an hour of lying dead in the water, the captain came on the speaker system and advised we had no power but the Australian sloop HMAS Parramatta was going to put a line on board and tow us to Port Sudan.

“Within a few hours we secured the line from the Parramatta and she started to tow us northwards with HMS Kandahar providing the escort, criss-crossing our path as we went. It was a relief to be moving again, even if we could only manage about eight knots. Even so, we were all very vulnerable to further attacks and we fully realised the risks our rescuers were taking on our behalf.

“We succeeded in slipping past the shore guns during the hours of darkness and were well north of Massawa by daybreak.

“During the voyage, the extent of the damage was not known so a large section of the ship was sealed off as its structural integrity could not be guaranteed. Consequently I was unable to reach my locker in the starboard passageway or retrieve any of my personal kit but most of us preferred to stay on deck anyway, just in case the ship broke in half and went down quickly.

“We then heard more news of our attacker. After the MTB had fired its torpedoes and taken off into the darkness, several of our accompanying destroyers had given chase and had captured it. It subsequently transpired that, unknown to us, the Italian forces at Massawa were to surrender later that day and, in anticipation of this, the MTB had left the port for one last mission, it now being the last Italian MTB operating in the Red Sea.

“Following the attack on us, the captain surrendered without a fight. He was pleased with his success and was convinced that he had sunk a destroyer. To prove him wrong, our captain had him brought on board the Capetown to show him we were in fact a light cruiser and still very much afloat.

“The tow lasted for two days, which were relatively uneventful but extremely worrying for us all. From my own viewpoint, the latter part of the journey was clouded by yet another event. Early on the morning of the second day I was surprised to be summoned to the Paymaster Commander and, after I had entered his office, he asked me to sit down and gave me a tot of whisky. This was most unusual so I sensed the situation wasn’t good. He then told me they had just received a signal informing of the sad news of the death of my father. His death had been due to natural causes but the news was totally unexpected and completely devastated me.

“The whole situation seemed so unreal and time stopped as I sat there and tried to comprehend what had happened. I slowly came to terms with the news and began to wonder how my mother would be feeling, and was so relieved she wasn’t now getting a telegram from the Admiralty informing her of the death of her son as well.”