Memoirs from the servicemen of World War 2. Contains Foreword by Norman Wisdom.
Excerpt:
SHANGHAI INCIDENT 1940.
On the day that Italy declared war on the allies, I was stationed aboard the river gun boat H.M.S. Peterel. At this time we were moored on the river Wangpoo Kiang in Shanghai. In view of the difference in time, the declaration had come during the night hours. I had myself taken a camp bed outside onto a gun deck, together with mosquito net, as the night was hot and humid. I was rudely awakened by one of my crew mates shouting words to the effect that; Italy had declared war on us, and that we ought to blow their gunboat, moored astern of us, out of the water. It was quickly pointed out that Shanghai was a neutral port and as such, must be respected. Excitement ruled out the possibility of any further sleep for the rest of the night.
At dawn, the next morning, we could see an Italian gunboat astern of us at the next mooring. It’s crew members observing us through their binoculars. As the tide was flowing towards them, one of our crew members had the idea of inflating a surgical glove, painting the face of Hitler on it and letting it drift downstream towards them, giving them something to think about.
This we did whilst being carefully observed by the ‘Japs’. This caused them to embark upon emergency action as the fingers on the glove must have given them the impression that they were the horns of a mine. Boats were lowered giving us much entertainment and pleasure. The Italian gunboat referred to, was the ‘Lepanto’, which later that same morning, moved to a mew mooring further downstream. During this process, she had to pass our gunboat. Much to our surprise, they blew a bugle calling the ship’s company to attention and saluted us as they passed. Possibly therefore, we must have been the only warship to receive a salute from the enemy in a time of war.
SALUTE TO THE PETEREL
From what has been written about the Peterel, the salute was well deserved. Not only was she to engage the enemy a while later, but she was to do so in a most historic manner.
It was in 1969, when Lord Mountbatten, Admiral of the Fleet, was leaving the Town Hall in Bournemouth, that he stopped to ask the mayor if he knew the police motor-cyclist escort. The mayor admitted that he didn’t. Not surprisingly, perhaps, as the officer was wearing helmet and goggles.
Lord Mountbatten explained that the officer, Jim Mariner, was one of the Far East war-time heroes at the time of Pearl Harbour. He added that he hoped the people of Bournemouth knew they had such a brave man serving in their police force.
Jim Mariner, has gone down in history as the first British sailor to fire on the Japanese in the last war; though he was later to spend four years as a P.O.W.
He was aboard H.M.S. Peterel which, in one of the most gallant yet little known actions of the war, went down off Shanghai with all guns firing, against overwhelming odds. Although a U.S. ship nearby had surrendered, the 350-ton Peterel, armed with only two three-inch guns and a few machine guns, fought to the end, taking on the concentrated fire of a battle cruiser, a destroyer, a gunboat, field guns and tanks.
Jim, who returned fire with a Lewis gun, swam to shore after the Peterel was blown to smithereens. He spent the rest of the war in P.O.W. camps in Manchuria and Korea. He was repatriated after Hiroshima, yet surprisingly neither he, nor any of his colleagues, received any honours.
THE LEGEND OF PEDRO
In my Japanese Prison Camp, there were seven long prison sheds to house the prisoners, each one divided into sections with rooms at strategic points. Running through each of them was a gangway with the toilets outside at one end. Around the sheds was an electric fence about five feet high with four feet spread. The rooms were used by senior ratings and civilians. The officers, having their own shed.
Outside our compound was a road and further buildings where the Japanese quarters and the cookhouse were. Behind these was a ten-foot-high brick wall running all the way around the outside of the camp. On top of this wall was an electric fence. There were also guard towers placed at strategic places along it, manned for twenty-four hours a day.
The Japanese Sgt Major started walking about the camp closely followed by a small chicken. This thing appeared to have a charmed life, for the electric fence was certainly active as the loss of a few prisoners had proven. We named the chicken Pedro. As the days got longer and longer, he began to look better and better. In fact, he looked so good that one day he disappeared.
The Japanese pulled the camp virtually to pieces in their endeavour to find out just who had been responsible for his disappearance, but all they found was a few feathers in such a position as to be unable to lay the blame at anyone’s doorstep so to speak. I never knew how he was captured, but I did know how he tasted, for the senior American civilians in one of the smaller rooms invited me in as a guest to his demise party. Although we did not have the benefit of roast potatoes and Brussels sprouts to accompany him, I can assure everyone that he tasted just as good.
The legend of Pedro gave us a good laugh and raised our morale considerably and became incorporated in our camp songs.
