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A Personal Account of the Sinking of H.M.S. Repulse

THIS story in no way pretends to be a complete one of the sinking of my old ship, the battle cruiser Repulse; but is just a narrative of all that I personally saw of the catastrophe.

The Prince of Wales and Repulse had been out on an offensive sweep into the Gulf of Siam in search of a huge number of transports which were landing troops at the north-eastern corner of Malaya. It was a particularly hazardous operation; and, had we not been sighted overnight by reconnaissance aircraft and been forced to turn back, we might have saved Malaya, but we should undoubtedly have been sunk all the same.

On the morning. of the 1st of December, 1941, after thirty-six hours of strenuous steaming, we closed the coast of Malaya about 200 miles from Singapore; we were on our way home and went in to investigate what proved to be an entirely false report of a further Japanese landing. Screened by the Electra,. Express and Vampire, we cruised peacefully close in shore and thanked God for being able to enjoy yet one more beautiful morning.

I turned in and slept from ten until eleven o'clock and then went down to the mess and split a bottle of beer with the Chief. Very shortly the alarm rattles went for "Air Raid Alarm." All those with important air defence stations rushed out, and the rest of us, grumbling, searched for our caps. "Another bloody shadower, I bet," I said, and looked into my cabin to collect a tin hat and some tobacco before going forward. My " earth" during air attacks was the upper conning tower, where I was supposed to remain behind about a foot of steel, the idea being that after a lot of senior officers had been killed I should emerge and take charge of the remains.

I had no sooner squeezed into the tower than the chief quartermaster said: "There they are, sir, nine bastards over there on the beam." I peered through the slits in the armour plate and presently spied the "V" formation flying very high and with a duplicate formation close behind. We had by this time increased to high speed, and as the leading squadron reached their point of release we swung to starboard to complicate their aim. Suddenly their was a huge roar like the Wrath of God as all the squadron dropped their bombs at the same moment, and these came hurtling down towards us. I watched the first two hit the water about a quarter-of-a-mile to starboard, and then I ducked down clear of the slits to escape blast. Their aim was surprisingly accurate, as a bomb dropped either side abreast my tower so close to the ship's side that the guns' crews outside were completely soaked by the splash. . I was so impressed. by their skill that I absent-mindedly put my best silk tobacco pouch. down on a shelf, thereby losing it for ever.

I went outside the tower and had a good laugh at the close range guns' crews, mostly Royal Marines, who looked like drowned rats but were otherwise very cheery. A messenger who was passing told me that there was a fire on the boat deck, so I went along to take charge and found lots of steam and smoke but no sign of fire. It was the general impression that some steampipe had broken from concussion, and it was amazing that no one on the upper deck knew that a bomb had penetrated through the hangar and burst in the after boiler room uptake. The blast had caused havoc along the two wing messdecks, and the escaping steam had made it impossible to go from forward to aft between decks for the remainder of the action, thus seriously impeding the supply of H.A. ammunition.

From the boatdeck I looked aft and saw that the Walrus aircraft had slipped off the catapult, the supports of which were doing the hat-pin trick to the aircraft's body. The flight commander told me that the tank was riddled and we decided to ditch it. I rang up for a crane driver and, after we had lashed the young New Zealand pilot to the crane-hook so that he could slip the aircraft at the correct moment, we cautiously hoisted away and trained outboard. It was at this moment that the first torpedo attack was delivered by about nine planes on the bow: this meant that the after H.A. guns were firing well forward and almost singeing the pants of the poor pilot at the head of the crane! We slipped the Walrus as soon as possible and it hit the water with a splendid belly-flop a great satisfaction to me because, being the officer who normally had to hoist the aircraft in and out, I felt I had wiped out many old scores.

I hadn't watched this torpedo attack, but I realized by now that the captain had avoided the torpedoes. The aircraft, after dropping their fish, made no attempt at a quick get­away; on the contrary, they sailed down the length of the ship about 400 feet up and 500 yards away as if it were a naval review! Our close range gunners had the targets they had been dreaming of for many weary months past, and I suspect that many of those beautiful silvered planes failed to make their bases.

As soon as I realized that the passing aircraft were spraying the ship with machine-gun fire I dispersed my crowd of goofers and wandered forward the port side to chat with the forward H.A. gun's crew. Though still soaked to the skin from a near miss they were in high spirits, as they claimed to have shot down a plane. There it was on the port beam with black smoke pouring from its tail and its bows under water. When I entered the fore superstructure I met the chief gunner's mate, very hot and blasphemous, who said that the ammunition supply to the guns was in danger of failing because of the difficulty of passing supplies from below through the wrecked and steam-filled messdecks. Here was something to do, so I rushed away and collected anyone I could find to join the procession bearing the heavy 4-inch ammunition and boxes of pompom stuff, replaced a couple of ladders which had been dislodged by blast, and organized a one-way traffic. Lord, how those men worked! It is to their credit that the ship sank with full lockers.

One of the obstacles to ammunition supply was the slow stream of burnt and blasted men coming from aft to the fore medical station. They were a sorry sight, and they moved as if they were sleep-walking; half-undressed, pitch-black and with large areas of skinless flesh, they moved slowly and absolutely silently with fixed and staring eyes.

I walked aft along the upper deck with the idea of trying to stop the flow of wounded forward. On the catapult deck I met the padre, who was one of the first-aid experts. He told me they had more than they could deal with aft, and could I tell him where he could get any more morphia? I offered to get some from a store on the bridge, but he rushed after it himself. I found the boatswain who, with his usual resourcefulness, was trying to haul down a ventilator to the engineer's office to release four unfortunates trapped there. The shaft of the ventilator was blocked with rows of pipes, so the idea had to be abandoned. I talked to the trapped men down the shaft and was amazed at their calmness. Poor devils! they're in the office still.

The after lobby, known as the Royal Apartments-as it had been specially decorated to take Their Majesties to Canada Just before the war-was full of stretcher cases, most of them temporarily lulled by morphia tablets. In my own cabin, sitting on the beautiful fawn carpet which was my servant's pride, were two grimy stokers, conscious but badly mauled. One of these was busy slowly unwinding the bandages from badly burnt legs, and an attendant who came in told me that this was the third time he had done' it. We each rebandaged a leg and knotted the ends securely. I tried to get one stoker to lie on my bed, but he looked at his grimed body and then at the clean bedspread and shook his head, so I lit three cigarettes from the silver cigarette box on the glass-topped table and we all had a smoke, with me holding the cigarette for one man with bandaged hands.

Shortly the H.A. guns started barking again, showing that another attack was pending, so I put the cigarette box and matches on the carpet between them and went forward to my official grand-stand in the conning tower. The attack formed as I arrived, and I watched a powerful formation dip down and drop their torpedoes: I glanced at my watch and timed off sixty seconds and then breathed again, as I realized that the captain had skilfully combed the tracks. The planes flew by as before and I watched the exchange of close range fire with breathless excitemen1 until the patter of bullets on the ship's side reminded me that I would be safer inside.

I found down below that the ammunition supply parties were coping with the demands. The wing messdecks were still full of steam, so I started some ventilating fans and then went over the upper deck to see if I could do the same the after end. At the bottom of the wardroom hatch the steam was so thick you couldn't see an inch, and the heat was unbear­able; so I retraced my steps to the upper lobby and started talking to the stretcher cases.

Almost at once the 4-inch HA. started firing again, followed by the close-range weapons, and I realized that a torpedo attack was developing from the stern. I heard a plane pass up the port side, so I made a group of lightly-hurt men squat down amidships just in case . . . in a second there were two bangs which shook the ship: they were on the port side, one just below us and one further aft. One badly burnt man started moaning and shuddering, so I told him that they were only near misses, and I think I nearly believed it myself.

The ship started heeling over to port, but I didn't think anything of it; and then there were two or three huge crashes, one to starboard and one, at least, forward. I chatted with some of the wounded who were mostly rather drowsy from morphia, and then went out to see if there were any enemy aircraft brought down. Looking aft from the screen door I saw that the stern was well down and that men were climbing out of the after turret and straggling forward. I remember how cheerful they looked, and a bunch was watching and discussing the Prince of Wales, which was apparently stopped. I asked a couple as they climbed up to the forecastle deck: "What's the matter? Were you getting wet feet down aft?" They looked a bit puzzled and then explained that the captain had broadcasted on the loud-speakers that the old lady was going, and all hands were to come on deck. We had not heard this in the after lobby as there were no loud-speakers there, but there is not the slightest doubt that the opportune decision of the captain to pass the order and the sturdiness of the loud-speaker installation saved the lives of hundreds of men.

I went back to my cabin to find my Gieves' life-saving waistcoat, and passed many of the wounded being passed out on deck. It took me some time to find the waistcoat, as my tidy servant had put it on a coat-hanger in the cupboard, and meanwhile the padre was coaxing the wounded to go out on deck. As I joined the large party that was gathering amidships on the catapult deck (a large open space right across the upper deck) I tried in vain to open the valve to blow up my waistcoat. Nothing would budge it until finally I clenched it between two sound back teeth and, Glory be to God, it started to turn. I put a very little air in it, so that it would not hamper me, and then looked around me.

It was a glorious day with the bluest of blue seas. The port side of the ship, usually about twenty feet above the water, was just awash, and the starboard side correspondingly higher. Forward the boatswain was chucking wooden planks over the side, and aft of me an Australian midshipman was still madly firing his Oerlikon gun at an aircraft and blaspheming anyone who dared to foul the sight. The group of men with me, some blinking in the unaccustomed sunshine, showed no sign of fear; in fact, considering that they were still grappling with death, one might have described their attitude as jocular. I looked over the starboard, or high, side and saw we were still doing a good 16 knots. The propellers, still covered, were churning up a huge race which was brown with the oil fuel that was pouring from a forward tank. As I watched, a stoker whom I knew well went in, and was quickly chewed up in that ugly race.

It's a hell of a job getting out of a ship moving fast. The boatswain, cool as a cucumber, was urging the men to go forward on the high side, ahead of all the turmoil, and most people followed him over the guard-rails. I hung my tin hat tidily on a clip and was tempted to take the low side as I had seen two men do it successfully. In a second I was toboganning at high speed on my pants across the ship, and I met the water when the top guard-rail was about a foot below water. As I entered the water a strong back-wash, which was flooding the port hangar, swept me back on board ; I held on to the side of . the hangar like grim death; but it was hard work and, as every second's delay lessened my chance of escape, I let go and was swept under the door into the darkness within. I was travelling fast, all under-water, and bumping occasionally; at least one other was there, too, as I was kicked by a boot from above. I was in a very bad temper at this turn of fate, and was just beginning to wonder what it would be like when I had to open my mouth, when the top of the hangar roll-top-desk door split open and I was spewed out into blue sea again. The ship was still moving fast and I saw the mainmast rigging cutting through the water towards me: I slipped inside the main shrouds and, as I passed aft, resisted a second backwash which was filling a hole from which an H.A. gun had presumably just fallen out.

What joy it was to be in still water again! I blew up my waistcoat some more and found myself with a crowd of about a hundred men, none of them in any difficulty and all shouting and singing. I swam on my back and watched the Repulse as she turned over with her forefoot high in the air. Someone led "three cheers"; but her clean red hull seemed to. hold the position indefinitely, and we had swum another hundred yards and cheered twice more before she finally dipped. It was a sad end to a very happy and efficient commission; but it was also a clean and honourable end to the gallant and beautiful old lady.

After an unpleasant swim through patches of oil; I reached the Electra and went straight to the bridge to direct and encourage the stream of swimmers through a megaphone. The 850-odd survivors were in two groups about half-a-mile apart, and the Australian destroyer Vampire was dealing-with the other half. Away on our quarter the Prince of Wales lay heeling to starboard and stopped, with a destroyer, the Express, alongside her. I watched a final high level bombing attack on her before she turned slowly over to port; and then the Jap aircraft formed up, circled round to view their handiwork, and flew off to their base.

K. R. B.