Saving the Diamonds

By Paul Gage

The Nazis in 1938 are making aggressive political moves to be supreme in Europe. Nazi Germanys war machine needs guns, cannons, tanks, and aircraft. Germanys industry needs industrial-grade diamonds for this explosive rearmament. But Germany lacks industrial diamonds and raw materials for its war production.

The Royal Navy must now prepare for a new struggle with Germany. New ships will take years to build. Drawing on its reserves and modernizing mothballed ships, the Royal Navys preparations must be accelerated. HM Destroyer Demeter is rebuilt and commissioned in 1939 with a mixed crew of seasoned salts and new sailors from the training schools. Joining the Demeter is midshipman James Vanier, just nineteen years old and fresh from a yearlong officer training program. He is fulfilling his dream of entering the navy.

The Demeter is in action from the first day of the war against Nazi Germany. Saving the Diamonds is the Demeters story of combat on the North Sea as seen by James Vanier. Challenged by convoy duty, battling Nazi destroyers, sea mines, fighting off Nazi bombers and dive bombers, James Vanier and Demeter face their sternest test when the Germans attack Holland in May 1940!

The Demeter is given a special assignment. The industrial diamonds Germany needs are in Rotterdam and Antwerp. The Demeter must survive battles with the German Navy and the fanatical Luftwaffe bombers to bring the industrial diamonds back to England!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524552077

Paul Gage

Paul Gage retired from the car and truck-tire business after forty-one years in sales, marketing, and manufacturing positions. Tires may have been his business, but he is an avid student of military and naval histories. He grew up in the family of a career navy man. He has turned his passion for ships, the navy, and especially about World War II into his first book. He lives in Denton County, Texas.

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Prologue

The Yacht Club

The privately owned yacht club was located on the end of the peninsula, the harbor basin two-thirds enclosed by all types of half-sunk ships—paddle wheelers, sailing ships, steamships—piled up on each other, some half turned onto their sides, all jumbled together. It was fascinating to a young boy who rode his bicycle over the low hills that formed the land side of the harbor to see the two half circles of sunken ships, their colors faded over time to white and black in the bright sunshine, standing out from the black and shiny silver of the huge refinery complex beyond.

The ships had been riverboats from the American River, or steamships from defunct fish-packing companies, their hulls sunk in this out-of-the-way cove just before or just after the war—no one knew for sure. The iron boilers and fittings had been removed, perhaps in an early war scrap metal drive, but their weights were not needed—winds across the larger bay did not raise angry waves to disturb this breakwater.

The yacht club was at the end of the public road that ran through the small navy base at the neck of the peninsula. The road carried the young bicycle rider along the shoreline of the peninsula, past the whaling station. When a whale had been killed off the mouth of the bay and towed to the whaling station, the cutting up of the whale was more fascinating. Here, the road ran along the crest above the whaling station. The shed roof only partly covered the length of the whale, and the sides were open. The cutting-up process went on day and night. Resting on the bicycle from pedaling up the hill, the only sound coming from the whaling station was that of a radio.

The road followed the folds of the low hills that were the spine of the peninsula, generally to the east, then to the north, climbing upward, sometimes at a steep angle, with few curves, until cresting the ridge. For a bicycle rider, it was a fast coast downhill to the yacht club. And what fun!

At the bottom, the young bicycle rider would take the last turn in the road and stand up on the pedals to lock the rear wheel. The bicycle would skid and slide on the flat dirt and small gravel that was the yacht club parking area, stopping before losing its rider. The bicycle rider would admire his skill and then pedal to the land end of the wooden pier that ran over the water from the shore to nearly the end of the third sunken ship.

There were three boat piers facing the enclosed harbor. On weekdays and during most of a summer, these boat piers were full, but the weekends found most boats away, gone for most of the day.

Watch out! Do not take your bicycle down this pier! a voice seemingly from the first docked boat said. The water is over your head here and your bicycle would be lost if you and it fell in the water. Leave it parked right there.

OK, mister, all right. After demounting and swinging the kickstand out, the bicycle rider walked down the pier to the first boat. Is this your boat, sir?

Yes, it is, said the man, standing up and moving from under the deckhouse canopy to the stern. Come over here, please.

On most other visits to the yacht club, he had been ignored. The bicycle rider approached the white cabin cruiser with a cautious curiosity. The man was tall and not fat, sort of like the bicycle rider’s father.

Who are you, young man?

John. John Pratt.

Well, hello, John Pratt. You came down the road pretty fast. I have seen you do it before. Very sturdy bicycle you have there.

Yes, sir, it is. I ride it here, over the hill, whenever I can. I like riding in the hills.

You should be more careful—you are lucky that it is a weekday and so few cars are on that road. What brings you here?

I like looking at those boats. The sunken ones over there, he said, pointing.

Yes, this is an unusual place. I have not seen ships used like this since I was in the navy in the last war.

My dad is in the navy!

I presume he is in the United States Navy. I was in the Royal Navy. The British navy as you may know it.

From that tentative meeting, John Pratt began a friendship with the tall Royal Navy man. With each visit aboard the Mary, John listened as the tall Royal Navy man shared with him stories involving his destroyers. John had a love of the navy and all things related to ships. He found the stories fascinating. He asked questions, as he had learned to do with his father.

****

John Pratt’s father never discussed his early years in the U.S. Navy during the Second World War. It was only as John Pratt had grown older, and could read in detail books or magazine articles about the U.S. Navy, that he asked questions of his father, about the war. His father usually gave yes or no answers.

One night over dinner, his father asked John what he was reading.

John said it was a book about navy warships in the Battle of the Atlantic. He told his father the chapter he was reading dealt with the first escort carrier task groups of 1943. The escort carrier task groups sailed from Norfolk to the Mediterranean, hunting for Nazi U-boats.

The task group John was reading about consisted of an escort carrier and two four-pipers, one on either bow. On New Year’s Eve 1943, the destroyer on the escort carrier’s port side made a radar contact late at night. The wind, rain, and high seas were building to a hurricane.

The task group usually consisted of a newly launched escort carrier, began John, which had thirty aircraft, and three ‘flush deck’ destroyers. ‘Flush deck’ was the navy’s nickname for a destroyer with a continuous main deck from bow to stern, which had been built during the First World War. The destroyers had four smokestacks. The navy called these ships ‘four-pipers.’

The radar contact was a submarine. The very high waves made for intermittent contact, as the destroyer fell into the trough between waves. The destroyer promptly turned into the waves to attack the U-boat with her deck guns, John Pratt said, retelling the story with some excitement that he had read.

The bow gun was buried in the waves, the gun crew hanging on to the gun for dear life. The U-boat maneuvered, firing two torpedoes at the destroyer. One hit the destroyer in the forward engine room. The destroyer began to sink.

The starboard side destroyer steamed around the escort carrier and charged in to attack the U-boat, dodging a torpedo fired at it. It quickly made sonar contact, but it was actually a second U-boat. The first U-boat fired two more torpedoes at the sinking destroyer. The sinking destroyer disintegrated. The stern section went down last.

What happened to the second destroyer? asked his father.

The second U-boat surfaced because of the depth charge attack, behind the starboard destroyer, which quickly turned in a circle to attack. The starboard destroyer began firing its guns. Shell hits demolished the conning tower, and the U-boat crew began abandoning their ship.

John paused to catch his breath.

The first U-boat tried to avoid the starboard destroyer to get at the carrier. The starboard destroyer steered at full speed for the surfaced sub, firing all its guns that could bear. The U-boat fired a torpedo at the destroyer, which missed. The U-boat dived as a huge wave came over the destroyer. But sonar contact was made, and the destroyer turned to make a depth charge attack.

John’s narration became more excited.

The U-boat fired torpedoes at the carrier as the destroyer dropped its depth charges. The torpedoes missed as the depth charges destroyed the second U-boat.

What happened to the survivors of the sunken destroyer? asked his father.

The waves were very rough. The remaining destroyer circled the wreckage. Only fifty men were saved because of the huge waves.

John’s father put his fork down for a moment. He then said, with very little emotion, I was there.

John was surprised. In fact, he was amazed at his father’s admission. You were? Which destroyer were you on? The questions gushed out.

I was on the destroyer which sank. I was a 4-inch gun crew talker. That gun was on the stern deckhouse.

What happened? How did you—

The first torpedo nearly cut the ship in two. The second torpedo hit the stern in front of the deckhouse, blowing the stern off. The third torpedo struck under the bridge. I did not see very much as the stern sank very quickly.

What did you do then?

I walked off the deckhouse and began swimming until the other destroyer came for us.

How long were you swimming?

A long time, his father said, without emotion. They had to help me out of the water. The North Atlantic water is cold!

****

John Pratt had a natural interest in history—American history, world history, especially military histories. As he grew older, the complex histories of the two world wars were covered in thousands of newly published books. His father would look over the books he brought home from the library and read them as well. His father still was reluctant to talk about himself, or those years. But when James knew the right question to ask, his father shared his life as a young sailor with his son.

John Pratt remembered the stories told to him by the tall British navy man vividly through the years. From his readings, he also pieced together the story of James Vanier.

1

The Mill

After Richard Vanier was demobilized from the army in the summer of 1919, he resumed his duties as assistant manager at Norton Mill and Foundry. He became the mill’s director after Mr. William Atwart resigned in 1921.

The work had changed little because of the war. But the second mill building, built in 1915 to make artillery shell casings, was shuttered in 1922 when the conversion to making pressed cookware and large pots could not be sustained. Richard had the disagreeable task to terminate its workers. Mostly women, many had been hired by him in 1915, and he was able to place some in the old mill.

Norton Mill’s business had benefited from the food shortages in the world after 1919. Production orders declined though, returning to prewar levels. Richard would quietly let go the less satisfactory workers. There were some complaints made to authorities by these workers, and to the metalworkers trade union. But Norton Mill was not a trade union shop. Attempts during the war had been made to form a union, but these efforts had fallen apart.

The brothers who owned Norton Mill had made strenuous efforts to bring in new customers from other parts of Great Britain for its tinned cans. Cheaper cans from America or Germany were there first.

Changes in canning technology led by the Americans following the war had surprised Norton Mill. It was technology and machines it could not afford. Moving from the revolving table welder to the inline can welding meant Norton Mill’s customers became their own can producers. Key production men (and some women) left to join their former customers.

The Norton brothers, faced with losing money for years, had no reserves left by early spring of 1933. In early spring, they met with their remaining customers to advise them that Norton Mill would be closing in two months.

Richard Vanier planned the shutdown of the mill’s operations to be as gently as possible for the men and women he employed. As a department completed its part of the last production order, all the department’s workers would be terminated. Richard had found a little extra money to allow an extra three schillings in the pay envelope.

Harry Norton, the senior brother, came to Richard’s office on the mill’s second floor quite unexpectedly, in the final month. Richard had just finished a planning meeting for the final two weeks in May with his foremen.

Richard, Mr. Harry said in greeting, may I speak with you? Mr. Harry was the more relaxed, easygoing of the two Norton brothers. His manner today was more casual than usual.

Mr. Harry! Certainly! Please come in!

Richard’s secretary was quick to pack up her notes from Richard’s desk, and as she left, she closed the last door. Always discreet, she told no one of the dourest decisions being discussed. She now took the added measure of excusing the file girl to fully clear the office area.

Richard, you have been very patient with me these past months. I do apologize for my shouting or bad humor. You have always been loyal to my brother and me. You have been a good counsel to whom we could turn, always for the good of the mill.

Why, thank you, Mr. Harry. You are very kind …

Richard, Mr. Harry said, reaching across to pat Richard’s knee, Alfred and I have had a meeting today with representatives of British American Minerals Trading Company, LTD. They discussed buying the mill. He stopped to let Richard catch up.

You have? Richard knew British American Minerals Trading Company, LTD., very well! His father-in-law, Mr. Atwart, had left Norton Mill to join them in 1921. Mr. Atwart was the senior accountant for their European operations.

Yes, Alfred and I met with Bill Atwart and Thomas Lechford, their comptroller. British American desires to buy everything. But we believe the price they have proposed too low. Harry Norton had pulled out of his pocket a sheet of paper, with British American’s heading, on which the purchase price had been handwritten. He passed it to Richard. It had been signed by Bill Atwart.

The offer is a fair price by today’s standards, Mr. Harry said, but Alfred and I want more money. We are not being greedy, and I want our employees to have a good job when we are gone. But—Harry Norton was becoming more animated—the mill, all the machinery, and the land, my great-grandfather started this business in 1834!

Mr. Harry, I agree it is a fair offer, especially as the cash account is nearly liquidated. From these last production orders we are about to finish, we have the equivalent of two months’ revenue to expect. You know the problem with the machine tools—newer machines have reduced their value by half.

Richard mulled over the sheet with the offer, the two men sitting in silence.

But is their offer for only the mill? The new mill was paid off during the war, as we went along. That includes all of its machines and tools. Do not forget the tenements we built and the rents they produce today. Richard stopped for emphasis. Maybe they have not considered the value of these properties?

Mr. Harry nodded, saying, Good point! But do you really think Bill Atwart forgot? He supervised their construction. Indeed, it was his idea to take on the ammunition contract!

Perhaps you could remind him to get a better offer? Shaking Richard’s hand, Mr. Harry left the office quickly.

****

During the next two weeks, the Nortons and South African Holdings, Ltd. (SAH), a subsidiary of British American Minerals Trading Company, LTD., reached a purchase agreement. Their plan for the mill—correctly, the mills—was to convert the mills and machinery to making rock drills and tools for mining.

Employees were called back as needed, and the revived Norton Mill was busy again. The timing was not perfect as half of the employees had already been terminated.

It was quickly clear that the mill—now known as SAH Norton Mill—would be under tighter operational control. The loose, trusting relationship Richard had with the Nortons was replaced with a scheme of weekly meetings with the men from South African Holdings. Production schedules, material costs, mill worker cost per hour of production—the detail required and the analysis the men from South African Holdings made of them were a revelation to Richard.

Monthly meetings were held by SAH at its City of London headquarters. Richard Vanier and the other directors of SAH’s subsidiaries participated. Richard came by taxi, leaving from his house early before the street traffic built up in Uxbridge, Westminster, and the city.

Richard Vanier was told, before the September meeting, he was being promoted from production manager to managing director of SAH Norton Mill. Mr. Gilles was as brisk and businesslike as any man he had met with South African Holdings.

The board is very pleased with how you converted the mill to making mine drilling tools. You kept your costs down and your tradesmen make a quality product, Mr. Giles stated. And, he added after Richard caught his breath, you deserve this.

****

Richard Vanier had been a good student in school but did not continue after the age of fifteen when he finished his sixth class year. His father had apprenticed him to the well-respected Norton Mill and Foundry in Uxbridge, makers of welded, tinned cans for vegetable canners in the area.

Richard Vanier was taken in hand by a leadman, Tommy, to learn how the revolving table welder operated. His first job was to put stacks of tin blanks into a bin on the revolving table. He had to keep records of the number of tin blanks he used and how many he started the day with, then count those remaining at the end of the day. He could not keep up in his first hours with the speed of the revolving table welder. When the blanks ran out, the table stopped with a loud bang! The indexing wheel had braked.

Tommy ran the table welder as his private preserve. And he would not suffer any black mark on his record should the revolving table welder create a work stoppage on the line.

Richard Vanier had been watching the other boys at their revolving welder and was startled by the bang! Then he heard Tommy yelling at him.

It is out of blanks! he yelled at Richard Vanier over the din of the plant. Quick, fill the bin up and come round to help me! Remember—do not run out of blanks!

Richard looked to the box that held the blanks, and it was empty! He pushed it aside and used his crowbar to open the next box. Time seemed to drag, and Tommy was insistently repeating, What’s taking so long?

Tommy inserted an iron bar in the slot in a geared wheel, and with a lunge he turned the gear slowly.

We’ve got to back the machine one position to get the jammed blank out! Then we can restart!

Take that crowbar, there, and reach under this gear, Tommy said, breathing hard. Put the bar into that handle and push down in it hard. Richard did as ordered.

The crushed blank fell to the shop floor. To close the door, turn the crowbar over and push up!

Richard did as ordered, standing back from the table. Ready!

With a loud bang, Tommy engaged the gear, and the revolving table started back up.

Get back to your job. Don’t be daydreaming or you will not last long here!

Richard went back to his blanks. What would he tell his father if he were sacked on the first day? And his father would lose the apprenticeship money he had paid!

Richard was determined not to have that happened. He watched his blanks, made sure the next stack was ready, and to save time, he opened the next box of blanks (or two boxes to be safe) to be sure he was ready.

Tommy gained confidence in Richard and began to show him the other tasks in running the welder. The gears to oil, how to clean the welding head, and how to move the boxes of blanks from the storeroom to the table welder.

Richard quickly mastered these tasks. The second week seemed easier. He found he could safely look at the canning plant, absorbing the details. In his fifth month on the table welder, Tommy told him, before they started the day,

Richard, Mr. Jones wants to see you in his office. Young Billy will take your place until you get back. Good luck!

What have I done? thought Richard. Richard walked quickly across the revolving table welder bay and entered Mr. Jones’ office, first knocking.

Vanier! Come in—please be seated.

Vanier, he continued, you have done very good work since starting here. It has come to my attention that you have an aptitude for something other than running our machines.

What aptitude? Richard thought.

My manufacturing clerk tells me that you keep very tidy, very neat records. Tracking blanks requires attention to detail. Mr. Atwart in accounting needs an additional clerk. He would like you to be moved from the shop floor to become his apprentice in accounting. What do you think of that?

I do not know— Richard Vanier paused, then looked at Mr. Jones. Is this a better apprenticeship than being on the machines?

Quite so, Vanier! Mr. Atwart will train you in accounting. It is a good move for you! Are you ready?

Yes! Later, when Mr. Atwart allowed him a break, Richard came back to Tommy to tell him what had happened.

You did right! Good work. You will not have to worry about bashing your fingers or a bad back!

Richard’s clean clothes contrasted with Tommy’s oiled clothes. The other apprentices were jealous, if only because it seemed that working with Tommy had given Richard an edge. For Richard, talking with Tommy was a refreshing moment from the mind-numbing records he had to keep for Mr. Atwart. It was a good move. He was moving forward and upward.

By 1914, Richard at age nineteen had been made second assistant to Mr. Atwart. He was now learning the intricacy of payroll accounting. He supervised two other apprentices.

****

The dark forces that had been moving the politics of the Balkans and the Austro-Hungarian Empire burst in the late summer of 1914.

The Austro-Hungarian crown prince was assassinated by Serbian inspired revolutionaries in June. Austria-Hungary responded by attacking Serbia late July. The czar of the Russians mobilized his armies to defend Serbia. France, an ally of the Russians by treaty, warned Austria to withdraw from Serbia, threatening war. The German kaiser warned the czar (his cousin) and the French that Germany, known to be Austro-Hungary’s ally, would mobilize August 1 for war.

The First Lord of the Admiralty, Mr. Churchill, on August 1 mobilized the Royal Navy to its war footing and announced the fleet was ready to defend the nation. All navy reservists were called up.

Great Britain was concerned, with France and Germany going to war, that neutral Belgium—historic and ancient Flanders—would again become a battleground. The British ambassador requested Germany to declare it would honor its treaties to protect Belgium’s neutrality.

Germany delayed a response—it was in the process of invading Belgium.

On August 4, Britain joined France and Russia against Germany and Austro-Hungary. Germany had always been viewed by the British as the most dangerous enemy.

****

For Richard Vanier, the tempo in the mill and all of its attendant paperwork accelerated as if rocket propelled. Soldiers have to eat, and the food tins made by the mill were in great demand. The mill’s apprentices quickly volunteered for the colors. The older mill hands knew they wanted to stay in the mill. The mill was in the war too!

Mill orders for food tins increased. In the second year of the war, the mill set up for the government an artillery-shell-manufacturing factory. Richard was split between the two mills, now more of a production manager, his days growing longer. Mr. Atwart, now the mill’s director, began meeting Richard at his home for dinner and mill business.

Mr. Atwart set a generous though limited table, and Richard ate with the family. The Atwart family had only two children left at home as the two older sons—Michael and Louise’s twin brother, William—had enlisted in the army in 1915. Louise and the youngest brother, John, joined their parents nightly for dinner.

At first it was very novel for Richard to be in someone else’s home and take dinner. Mr. Atwart and Richard would meet in the family parlor after dinner. Richard soon paid increasing attention to Louise, who would start their meeting with a cup of tea for her father and Richard.

Louise Atwart had attended normal school and was a teacher’s assistant at the St. Albans Church School, a Church of England parish school. John had apprenticed as a bank teller and now was the auditor of the counting room.

Louise Atwart helped her mother with setting out the food for dinner. Mrs. Atwart was always very kind to Richard and made sure Richard left with a few extras from dinner. Louise would wrap these in newspaper—triple wrap if necessary—and hand the tidy package off to Richard.

Louise Atwart was about his age, with dark brown hair, put up in a bun in the style of that age, and intriguing light blue eyes. She usually listened to the conversation at dinner, rather than starting it. Once she was comfortable with the subject, she would join in, usually with a question, and sometimes to take a humorous position. She seemed to follow Richard Vanier’s statements with a comment made to him, not to the table.

Richard could always talk to girls easily, but not in the way dinner conversations developed at the Atwarts’.

I believe that a woman should have the same privileges of a man. This war has seen women work in factories. Look at Norton Mill now—women work on the production floor of the mill! If women do that kind of work, they should have the right to vote!

Now, Louise, said Mr. Atwart, the government has said that is an issue which will be decided when this war is ended. It is a political issue that interferes with prosecuting this war. You should be patient.

Louise, who was sitting next to her father, frowned. But Father, is not this war about justice?

My dear, it is about justice. It is about upholding our word as a nation to protect the weak and innocent countries we are pledged to protect by using force if necessary to turn back the aggressor, put them in their place.

I cannot believe, said Louise, becoming more upright in her chair, that something which would improve our people must wait when the need for it is now!

Mr. Atwart, asked Richard, speaking from the other side of Louise, would we of Norton’s be able to do our part in this war without the women workers?

No, you would not! Louise interjected. Women are not just keepers of the home, the mothers of children. They are as capable of men in the hard labor tasks required—perhaps the army needs more of us!

Richard was looking at Louise when she answered. She had such a light in her blue eyes. That is not quite what I meant. I mean in the two mills, we have used women sparingly in the heavy labor tasks …

So, Mr. Vanier, Louise said, turning to face him, women should tend the home, have the children, and make the soldier comfortable?

Louise, interrupted her father, we need to change subjects. I think it enough that we provide the tools the soldiers need to win without going into the details what will make them comfortable.

Father, I make no disrespect!

Ms. Atwart, Richard said, I was speaking only from a practical point of view. With shortages of fit men because of the army, we need suitable women to take their place.

So, Mr. Vanier, Louise said with a wry smile, you know how to use women?

Even Mr. Atwart laughed. Come, Richard, he said as dinner was done, let you and I talk about how we will use women!

****

The government in 1915 contracted with Norton Mill and Foundry to produce artillery shell casings. A new factory building was erected. Replacing the razed two-story tenement buildings were the new factory and three four-story buildings of a modern design. Most of the new employees had to be women.

Huge numbers of men had volunteered from the first days of the war, but conscription had been introduced for men between ages eighteen and forty. But the war’s huge casualties had increased the need for more men to enter the army.

In May 1916, William Atwart Jr. was wounded while fighting in the Aisne region. By July he had been returned to England for further surgeries and convalescence. Michael Atwart’s unit was transferred in August from France to the Salonika Front.

Richard Vanier by 1917 knew he would soon be entering the army. The government through Parliament was eliminating deferments. Even though he was a trusted and key assistant to Mr. Atwart, the authorities made clear that the exempt category for the men at Norton Mill was ended.

Richard had discussed with Michael his war service. And with his brother George home on leave in June 1917, he did not try to put a false finish on what he related about his war on the Western Front. George had joined the army in 1914, had been in many scrapes, but somehow remained unhurt. He still had his sense of humor.

Richard Vanier had developed a deep affection for Louise Atwart. He and Louise spoke easily with each other, seeming to read each other’s mind after a time. Richard was very aware of her femininity, her clothes, her blouse or skirt, her hair, her fragrance. And the touch of her hand when she held his.

After dinner and before meeting with Mr. Atwart, Richard and Louise would go into the parlor to sit and talk. Louise would sit close to him—closer over time—and turn so as to face Richard.

After a long day at the mill or the artillery factory, Richard knew he had a wrinkled and rumpled appearance. For Louise, he made an effort to straighten his tie, tuck in his shirttail, and brush off his pants or coat. In fact, he really wanted Louise Atwart to think the best of him.

Mr. Atwart, Richard said as they sat down in the family living room after dinner, may I have your permission to court Ms. Atwart? There, he said it! He had rehearsed the question for the last several weeks.

Richard, are you really sure of this? Mt. Atwart said by reflex.

I am very sure, sir. Ms. Louise and I, well, I believe, have much in common. Richard stopped for a moment, to come up with a good reason.

Richard, no need to drag this out. I think my daughter would like you to court her!

Turning toward the doorway of the parlor, Mr. Atwart said in a louder voice, Louise, would you come in here please?

Louise arrived promptly. Louise, her father said in a normal voice, perhaps with a little mirth, Mr. Vanier has requested that I give him permission to court you. I will say that I approve—but only if you are in agreement.

Oh yes, Father. I do agree! She was looking past her father at Richard.

****

So many things happened so fast for Richard in the summer and fall of 1917.

He and Louise delighted in each other, sealed with tender kisses over the weeks.

Richard had not attended church regularly since leaving school for work, but now he joined the Atwart family each Sunday for the services at St. Albans. His mother and father, who had attended St. Stephen’s, sometimes came as well. They were well pleased with Richard’s choice of a bride. And misters Atwart (Sr.) and Richard (Sr.) shared many points of view. The mothers—Beatrice Atwart and Alice Vanier—were happy for their children. Both were more worried about their future.

Mr. Atwart was advised in early summer that Richard would be called up in three months. Richard and Louise decided to marry. Their wedding was held at St. Albans in July. In fact, it was a midmorning ceremony; there were so many couples marrying that day.

They honeymooned in the Cotswold. With army camps crowding the area, they found what had been a spare bedroom in a cottage not far from the train station. Just three days to begin to know each other, to enjoy each other, and then back to Uxbridge. In the meantime, Mt. Atwart found a small three-room apartment for them, which their mothers cleaned. Richard returned to his duties in the mill, but his call-up letter arrived two weeks after the wedding.

Richard entered the army in August. His army training was at the Minden Barracks in the Blackdown camp at Deepcut near Farnborough. Two months of training followed: square bash marching, living with other men out of doors in tents, rifle training, bayonet practice, personal hygiene training—so much so fast.

In early November 1917, Richard was assigned to the regimental replacement depot for the County of London Regiment. The London Regiment was a long-standing regiment in Greater London. Before the war, it had been known as the First South Surrey Regiment. In the Boer War it had been known as the First Surrey Rifles. The London Regiment was now a part of the Forty-seventh Division, or the Second London Division, now on the front lines in France.

On arriving at the depot in West London, Richard was assigned to the First (Replacement) Battalion. Soon to be ordered to France, they were granted leave, one-third of the men at a time.

Richard and Louise had five days together before he returned to camp. Really three days—travel by road and bus was so congested. It could have been a morbid farewell. Each knew from the years of war reports that Britain was fighting a mortal struggle for which her soldiers—and sailors—were asked to make their sacrifice for victory. Even if it meant they perished in the process. Richard and Louise nourished each other by being together.

When Richard left, Louise closed up their apartment and returned to wait for Richard’s return with her family. She wanted her mother to help balance her fears.

The First Battalion had no deserters when it left in mid-January for the front. Assigned to the 140th Brigade of the Forty-seventh Division, it was redesignated the Twenty-first County of London Battalion. The Twenty-first was quickly retrained as the transportation arm of the brigade, responsible for its horses, mules, supply wagons, and limited number of motor trucks. It was tasked to move supplies and ammunition to the front and casualties to the hospitals.

2

Tasting the Mud

James Vanier had heard the stories told by his uncles about their army service in the Great War. His mother’s brothers, Uncles Michael and William, had fought the Germans, Austrians, and Turks. His father’s brother George had spent the war in France, in the trenches.

They would tell stories about their army life and the fighting in Flanders or the faraway places of Salonika, the Holy Land, and in Mesopotamia. Both had been infantrymen—no story they told occurred anywhere else but in a trench. Uncle Michael would color his stories by comparing how the mud tasted—from one region of the trenches to another. Sweet like butter on bread, soft like cream sauce, bitter like dill pickles, lumpy like dry oatmeal—the trench was life.

James had tried to eat the dirt in their backyard. It tasted awful! He quickly decided that he had no desire to taste the mud, if he ever had to be in the army.

His uncles were exceedingly proud that they had been good soldiers to the end, that they had a hand in smashing the Germans in that year of 1918—well, if they had not smashed the Germans, the war would have gone forever!

All had been wounded in the fighting in the late summer of 1918, as the British army broke through the German Hindenburg defenses. For Uncle William it was his second wound. Uncle George had been mustard gassed in the week before the war ended. Each had recovered sufficiently by the summer of 1919 to march triumphantly through West London with their division, the Sixtieth (First London) Division. They treasured their Victory Medal.

James liked the action and drama that his uncles’ stories made of army life. He had naturally asked his father, Richard Vanier, if he had been in the army with his uncles.

Yes, he had replied, but in a different division.

Were you in the trenches?

Sometimes, yes, his father would say. He would add, with a slight smile, that even with his face in the dirt or mud he never tried to eat it! Spit it out every time. Your uncle Michael has a broad sense of taste!

His father would add that he felt fortunate to have been a good soldier and to have done his part. He welcomed his life and its work after the war, with his wife Louise and his children.

****

James as he grew older became more interested in the navy than the army. He began to read more than the class books in his primary school class 4. His teacher brought him her books on the Royal Navy. And she showed him where in the school library he would find others.

The naval actions of the Dutch and Napoleonic Wars seemed to jump off the textbook pages; they seemed so much more thrilling than the army. Marching men, digging men had no comparisons to sinewy sailors, the wind at their back, boring done on the enemy, an enemy veiled by the smoke of their cannons, to smash these enemy ships, to bring your ship alongside that of your enemy, and to take the enemy by the sword.

For young James, his imagination was excited. He drew pictures of sailing ships bombarding fortresses. Sea fights, ships with torn sails and broken masts. The White Ensign was sometimes shot through, sometimes to taters, but always triumphant. He did not imagine what the options would be if his warship were to be damaged or sunk.

This interest did not go unnoticed by his parents. Mr. Vanier, when reading the Times newspaper, would leave the paper turned to any story on ships or the navy when he set it down. When he found a picture book at his bookseller, he would get it for James. The pictures were of huge waves, with white foam on their brow, ships ploughing through them with water covering the bow or turrets, pouring back to the sea. Or ships suspended on the crest of the wave, the bow unsupported, dangling in midair, sails tattered by the storm. The pictures were sometimes clear and sharp in detail, others hazy. James pinned them on his bedroom walls.

Mr. Vanier took James and his older brother John on Saturdays to the Welsh Harp Reservoir to watch the sailboats. After a time, he rented a sailboat—really a sailing dinghy—for the afternoon. Soon, Louise was making up a picnic basket, and the family, including younger sister Elizabeth, would use the public grounds next to the Welsh Harp Inn and Tavern. James would carry the blanket, and John would carry the basket. Well, that is how they started off. Soon, especially after the bus ride to the reservoir, Mr. Vanier carried the basket and the blanket.

John and James became quite adept sailors. The many dinghies to rent were painted white, and each gunwale was a different color—red, blue, green, or a dark yellow. Each would take turns as the tillerman, and when Mr. Vanier commanded, Come about! they would put the tiller over smartly, to reverse their direction, and watch the sail boom swing away from the turn. Sometimes on really windy days, the dagger board would not bite, and water came over the gunwale as the dinghy turned. Great fun! And Louise kept a towel handy for the boys to dry their feet when they took their wet shoes off or dry their hair.

As John and James grew older, Mr. Vanier let them run the sailing dinghy by themselves. Sometimes they would sail across the reservoir to be lost from sight among the other dinghies. If they were accompanied by Elizabeth, they had to sail where their parents could see them.

For Christmastide the school year of his class 5, he was given a wooden model kit to assemble as a ship in a bottle. It was a fair first effort, but doing better was something young James wanted to do. Once he had an understanding of what the task required, he tried to do it the right way each and every time. He treasured his first model ship, that sailing ship in the bottle, and kept it all his life as a reminder of his dream.

****

Richard had wanted his children to be knowledgeable about the world they were going to enter. He had, when their age, been so focused on working, to do better at his work, to meet success at Norton Mill and Foundry, that he did not really read a newspaper. Occasionally when he was at his Grandfather Vanier’s for Sunday dinner after church, he would read through some of the newspaper, but never really the whole paper.

Only when he went into the army in August 1917 did Richard really have time to read a newspaper. Army training was so closed to the outside world that any news not imparted to him by a drill sergeant or officer was highly valued. The newspaper could be a new edition, or days or weeks old, but nonetheless it held the window to the world.

Richard read the paper each evening. Louise often joined him to share the paper. They discussed the news and what it foretold of the future.

There were a succession of social upheavals and political crises in the countries of Europe, revolving around Italy, France, and Germany. British Imperial India was in turmoil from agitation for political independence, led by Gandhi. Ancient China was in constant military turmoil, beginning with the revolution of 1911 and the rise of the Kuomintang, which warred with other parties. Japan, an ally of Britain in the Great War, was expanding its territorial claim against a China too weak to resist.

The actions of Italy and Germany were based upon their dictator’s demands for equality among nations and professing political doctrines for the need of a national living space. Quite openly, their speeches were of increasing their national territories by consuming their weak neighbors. They wanted to be great powers, modeling themselves on Britain and France, to decide the fates of nations.

And they were willing to have their countries go to war to take these rights.

Italy’s dictator Benito Mussolini had shown the way for Germany in 1923, by demanding punitive damages for death of an Italian general in Greece. When Greece rejected some of the conditions, the Italian navy bombarded and captured the island of Corfu, using it as hostage for Greece’s humiliation.

Britain and France were involved in the resolution of the crises. They exercised their powerful influence on Greece and Italy by supporting Italy’s claims, not trying to protect the weak from the strong.

****

Young James did well in school, competent and commended by his primary class teachers. At age eleven, for the Eleven Plus tests he did very well and was recommended for the Middlesex Common Central Secondary School in Ickenham.

Mr. Vanier remembered that no such choice had been open to him or his brother George at that age. Norton Mill and Foundry was well-known in Uxbridge for good working conditions and steady pay. They allowed no whipping of their apprentices. His father had saved the apprentice fee required by Norton’s, and when Richard Vanier Jr. finished school at fifteen, his father took him down for Norton’s inspection.

Mr. Vanier Sr. was employed by Kneeland Printing. His superior had wanted young Richard to apprentice there. Richard Vanier Sr. had declined, feeling it was best for James to work where the suspicion of his success would not be tainted by his family being employed there as well.

His superior understood. He was confident that young Richard Vanier Jr. would do well. He had the desire to apply himself to a task.

Richard Vanier Jr. and his wife Louise agreed that their children would complete at least secondary school before they would have to begin their working lives. They really wanted them to go to college.

St. Albans Church of England school in Uxbridge offered only a primary education. The Middlesex Common Central Secondary School in Ickenham meant crossing the city of Uxbridge by bus. Their bus left their home area at 5:00 a.m., and the return left the School at 4:00 PM.

Louise Vanier made the trip with John and later with James each day of their first week. She was a teacher’s assistant at St. Albans, but the school willingly let her arrive later in the morning and leave earlier in the afternoon, to accompany home her sons. Soon, John and James did it by themselves. Her sons were becoming grown up lads!

John and James Vanier did well in school. Each had the curiosity to want to understand the smallest detail. If they could not remember that detail a few days later, each made the effort to look it up and restudy the subject. How ‘does?’ this work became a passion for James. Mathematics, biology, even language grammar lessons caught his interest. Order, precision, regularity, predictability caught his interest.

John graduated in 1936, and went on to Willesden College in nearby Kilburn. When James entered the lower Form VI, the last year before graduation in 1938, he began to think seriously of what he would do after secondary school. The Northampton Institute seemed to offer the best options in his preferred subject—engineering.

In the spring of 1937, though, James read this notice posted on the bulletin board outside the registrar’s office:

The Royal Naval College (HMS BRITANNIA) will hold testing for admittance on May 16, 1937, at Westgate Hall, Ickenham. Applications for the test are available for suitable candidates in the Registrar’s Office.

The navy! James was not sure if he should approach someone in the registrar’s office for more details. Or first discuss this with his parents.

He entered the registrar’s office.

The large woman behind the counter greeted him with a smile. Yes?

There is a note on the bulletin board, James stated to the office worker, concerning the navy. Can you tell me more about it?

Oh, yes. The navy has prepared an information sheet for those interested—let me get it for you.

When she returned, she paused for a moment. How old are you?

Seventeen. I’m in the Sixth Form, lower rank.

Well, you may be premature in going on with this. The navy wants you to be eighteen years old or have completed the Sixth Form upper rank to apply.

May I have that sheet anyway? I need to discuss it with my father.

James could not wait to go home that day.

Louise Vanier read the Royal Navy information sheet. Her middle child did not realize what it meant to her. Her brothers, her husband’s brother had been maimed and wounded in the Great War. Her husband would not speak freely about his service in the army during the Great War, even to her brothers. And now her second son wanted to enlist in a fighting service.

Your father and I need to discuss this with you. She was very solemn, and James had seen her countenance change.

When his father came home, he too had a mood change when reading the navy information sheet. That dinner had a different tone as James’s brother John and his sister Elizabeth realized something very important was happening.

Elizabeth and John, said their mother Louise, please clean up the dishes and the table for me tonight. We will go back to our regular schedule tomorrow.

She looked toward Mr. Vanier. Your Father and I need to discuss something very import with James.

What was it that James had done thought Elizabeth?

Richard Vanier reread the navy information sheet. James, I know that you really like the navy. Was this all the information the navy left with the school?

Yes, sir. Are you and Mother upset with me?

No, James, your mother and I are not. This could be a very important step for you, a real fork in the road so to speak.

He paused to gather his thoughts. Now, the Royal Naval College …

I am too old for that! said James. The College will take no one older than thirteen years of age.

Richard Vanier smiled broadly. His mother Louise was even surprised at how quickly James answered.

Quite right! said Richard. That leaves the ‘Special Entry Program’ to consider.

James, said Louise, the navy may be offering you a big opportunity. Such an opportunity must be rationally considered.

Richard Vanier moved in the parlor chair to sit more erect. The navy is offering, if you meet their requirements, a chance to become an officer. This means a career and the equivalent of a college education. I am sure it would be a good education. But do know it means committing yourself for at least ten years to the navy?

Before James could answer, his mother said, Your father and I have wanted very much for you to go to a college. To get the education we did not have a chance to get before the war. College will open so many other opportunities for you. College would allow you to move into a meaningful work profession more quickly.

His father put the navy sheet down, directing this comment to James. The navy requirements—the ones for a high mark in the secondary school passing-out test and the entrance exam to the college—are essentially the same as that of the Northampton Institute.

Yes, I know, said a more serious James Vanier.

His father continued, Northampton would offer you choices as to what engineering field you could specialize, not so with the navy. If you did not like one company’s work, you could move to another engineering works in the commercial world. If you go into the navy, you are required to serve in the navy, including your training, for ten or twelve years.

Yes, sir, I have thought about that. But it seems the Special Entry Program … well, I know I could qualify. It is a very meaningful profession to me!

James, I know it is. But understand the navy is offering only a few positions. Three times a year eligibility tests are administered. The navy states that only candidates who are in the top ten percent or better of secondary school, who pass the navy entrance test, who pass the physical and who pass the navy’s selection interview ‘at the Admiralty Building, London’ may become ‘Special Program’ officer candidates.

James listened, thinking about the requirements as his father continued. Father, I want to do this, he said quietly.

Mr. Vanier continued reading the navy’s sheet. Eligible candidates, following successful completion of their specialization training, which lasts twelve months, will become midshipmen. Training as a midshipman will cover all operational duties of the navy, and may last up to two years and four months. Successful midshipmen will be eligible to commissioned as officers, in the rank of sublieutenant.

Sir, but I want to do this. I mean, I think I would qualify.

James, his father added reassuringly, There is a meeting on April 17, also at Westgate Hall, that the navy has scheduled for those interested in taking the examination. I think you and I should attend. That’s a Saturday, and the meeting is at noontime.

James Vanier bore down on his studies; he studied and restudied his lessons.

April 17, 1937, could not arrive too soon. His dreams were about ships, the sea.

****

Royal Navy warships had been attacked and British merchant ships sunk at Spanish ports by both the Nationalist and Republican combatants.

The Spanish Civil War which began in 1936 had become a savage conflict, the pawn of deteriorating European politics. Communist Russia supplied the Republicans with planes, tanks, ammunitions. Fascist Italy—then Nazi Germany—had also sent war supplies, planes, tanks as well as troops (volunteer fighters) to support the Nationalist.

Britain and France attempted to act as intermediaries but neither country wanted to be involved in the fighting. But each was deeply troubled by the aggressive moves of Italy, German and Russia which used Spaniards as proxies for their ideological policies.

The Socialist government of France supported the Republicans. The Conservative government Britain leaned toward the Nationalists, until Fascist Italy, Nazi Germany and communist Russia became involved. The one thing they did not want at that time was a military confrontation.

The end of April 1937 would bring news of the civilians slaughtered at Guernica by bombs from modern German planes, flown by German volunteers, volunteers the news reports made clear were actually airmen of the German Luftwaffe—the German air force—flying for the Nationalists.

****

It had rained nearly every day in April. April 17 dawned cold and rainy. Mr. Vanier had them go by taxi. Westgate Hall was nearly full, with five hundred parents and potential candidates in attendance. Promptly at noon, a naval officer with three ratings came through a side door and mounted the podium. The ratings stood behind their officer as he stepped to the lectern.

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I am Lieutenant J. M. Rowley, Royal Navy. I am the term officer cadet instructor assigned to HM Training Cruiser Vindictive based in Portsmouth. I welcome all of you to this information meeting on our navy’s programs to enroll qualified applicants into our officer training programs.

Lieutenant Rowley nodded to the ratings, and each took a large bundle of papers from boxes on the rear of the rostrum, and began handing them out to the rows of attendees. The sheets were entitled, Questions and Answers—The Officer Cadet Programs.

Two-thirds of the attendees were interested in the Royal Navy College. But many learned to their dismay that entering cadets were limited to ages thirteen to thirteen and one-half. No younger, no older. The college offered an education comparable to the best public schools or top secondary schools in the country. Graduates would be made midshipmen and would spend up to two and one-half years at sea before eligible for promotion to sublieutenant, the first level of commissioned officer in the navy.

Mr. Vanier was amazed to learn that parents or guardians of cadets to the College had to pay the annual tuition fee, plus provide for the cadet’s spending money. Added to this was the cost of one hundred pounds per year, for food, lodging and uniforms.

Essentially the quality education offered was bought at a price paid by the cadet’s parents.

The lieutenant’s presentation now turned to the Special Entry Program. The entry requirements Mr. Vanier and James had reviewed two months ago were stated clearly by Lieutenant Rowley.

From the audience came this question: "What is the cost of