The Sea Devils

Operation Struggle and the Last Great Raid of World War Two

Mark Felton

• Publisher: Icon Books
• Year: 2015
• eBook ISBN: 9781848319097
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Military & Maritime History
• Index: History

July 1945. Eighteen young British, Australian and New Zealand special forces from a top-secret underwater warfare unit prepare to undertake three audacious missions against the Japanese.
Using XE-craft midget submarines, the raiders will creep deep behind Japanese lines to sink two huge warships off Singapore and sever two vitally important undersea communications cables. Success will hasten ultimate victory over Japan; but if any of the men are captured they can expect a gruesome execution.
Can the Sea Devils overcome Japanese defences, mechanical failures, oxygen poisoning and submarine disasters to fulfil their missions? Mark Felton tells the true story of a band of young men living on raw courage, nerves and adrenalin as they attempt to pull off what could be the last great raid of World War Two.

CHAPTER ONE

The Expendables

‘Keep your mouth shut, your bowels open, and never volunteer.’

—Old Navy maxim

‘Thirty feet, sir,’ called out Acting Leading Seaman James ‘Mick’ Magennis, watching the depth gauge like a hawk watches a mouse. Lieutenant Ian ‘Tich’ Fraser, the 5ft 4in commander of midget submarine HMS XE-3, did not move from the attack periscope, his eyes glued to the huge target that filled its tiny lens. His submarine was slowly creeping west down the shallow Johor Strait, the long, thin channel that separates Singapore Island from the Malayan mainland. Before him, off the old British naval base, was moored the 15,500-ton Japanese heavy cruiser IJN Takao, her fearsome 8-inch gun turrets pointing north up the Malay Peninsula towards where an Allied invasion was expected any day.

The Takao’s superstructure was heavily camouflaged in a crazy green and brown disruptive paint pattern that made her blend in well with the thick jungle ashore. To Fraser, the ship appeared immense, her great pagoda-like superstructure bristling with anti-aircraft guns, fierce tropical sunshine glinting off her bridge windows and upper works. Her five turrets with their ten 8-inch guns looked both menacing and potent. She was moored with her stern facing Singapore Island so that her 630ft-long hull stuck out into the mile-wide Strait like an armoured finger, an immense static gun battery that dominated all approaches for fifteen miles in every direction. Fraser knew that just over a mile downstream the equally huge heavy cruiser IJN Myoko occupied a similar position, the two ships very sharp thorns in the side of Britain’s invasion plan.

The atmosphere inside the black-painted British submarine was electrifying. Its four crewmen sweated profusely in the clammy heat, the air as fetid as a tomb. Each man sat at his assigned station, his face a rictus of tight concentration. The main hatch had been shut many hours before as the submarine had crept into the Strait from the open sea to the east of Singapore.

In comparison to its huge target, the XE-3 was a minnow approaching a whale. But it was a minnow that packed a potentially devastating punch. On one side of the 53ft-long boat was a two-ton Amatol high explosive Mark XX saddle charge, on the other a special rack loaded with six 200lb magnetic limpet mines that would be placed into position by Magennis, the submarine’s main diver.¹

Fraser, dark haired, short and at only 24 years old already a veteran wartime submariner with a Distinguished Service Cross to his name, smiled slightly as he watched the distance to his target drop. ‘All right, Magennis, the range is 200 yards,’ he said, ‘we should touch bottom in a moment.’

Magennis, a dark-haired and slightly built 25-year-old Ulsterman from the tough Falls Road area of Belfast, nodded and smiled grimly.

So far, Operation Struggle had gone mostly according to plan, though the XE-3 was running behind schedule by a couple of hours. The submarine had motored for almost 40 miles behind Japanese lines without being detected, passing through a minefield and several sets of underwater listening posts. Now she was only a stone’s throw away from her target. But the most difficult part of the mission had arrived. Fraser had to manoeuvre his submarine directly underneath the keel of the great behemoth before he dropped his main charge, otherwise the damage he would inflict would not be sufficient to sink the steel monster.²

‘Keep her as slow as you can,’ he said to Engine Room Artificer Third Class Charlie Reed who was at the helm steering and controlling the engine. ‘Aye aye, sir,’ he replied.

Sub-Lieutenant William ‘Kiwi’ Smith, the sub’s second-in-command, worked the hydroplanes to control the submarine’s depth and direction. Ordinarily he was a cheerful New Zealander but his face was now a mask of deep concentration as he stared fixedly at the dials and gauges in front of his seat.

The run in was almost silent, with only the gentle hum of the propeller and the electric motor that was driving it breaking the quiet. Suddenly there was a bang as the XE-3’s bow struck the bottom of the channel, the crew lurching forward and grabbing pipe-work and fittings to steady themselves, followed by loud scraping noises as the submarine’s keel bumped through the mud and debris. Smith had a difficult time keeping the little submarine on course as she crashed, dragged and scraped along just thirteen feet below the surface of the crystal-clear Johor Strait.

Fraser, using the night periscope that was designed for underwater work, could see the water’s surface from below moving like a wrinkled and winking pane of glass, growing gradually darker as the submarine came into the Takao’s great shadow. Suddenly, something scraped noisily down the XE-3’s starboard side, a sound alarmingly like giant fingernails being drawn down a huge blackboard, followed seconds afterwards by a violent crash as the submarine struck the Takao’s hull with a reverberating thud.

‘Stop the motor!’ yelled Fraser, wincing at the noise. Reed immediately shut off the engine. Inside the XE-3 the collision had sounded loud enough to wake the dead. But the Takao’s main belt of armour around her waist, designed to absorb the impact of torpedoes, was up to five inches thick. The collision had probably gone unnoticed aboard the warship.

‘I wonder where the hell we are,’³ muttered Fraser, almost to himself. The submarine’s position didn’t feel right. He could see nothing through the underwater periscope. It felt as though the boat was too far towards the Takao’s bow and Fraser suspected that the heavy scraping noise that they had heard had come from one of the cruiser’s thick anchor cables. Fraser decided to back away and line up for another run-in.

‘Port 30,’ he ordered, ‘half ahead group down.’ The electric motor whirred and the propeller turned faster, the submarine beginning to vibrate as the revolutions increased. But the XE-3 did not move. ‘Half ahead group down!’ repeated Fraser, his face sheened with sweat. He began issuing a stream of orders as he vainly tried to move the submarine from under the Takao. But the XE-3 stubbornly refused to budge. Fraser, panic starting to rise almost uncontrollably inside of him, realised that his submarine was trapped. Four men inside a tiny XE-craft, made of only quarter-inch-thick steel and loaded down with enough explosives to sink a battleship, were trapped beneath 15,500 tons of enemy warship deep inside Japan’s most prized harbour. Because the submarine had arrived later than planned, with each passing minute the tide was ebbing away and the Takao was settling lower and lower into the channel, its vast keel pushing down upon the XE-3.

Fraser, hardly pausing for breath, continued to give orders to the helm and engine. ‘Group down, half ahead,’ he called for what seemed like the thousandth time. But his orders were met only by the sound of the propeller spinning impotently and the whine of the motor as it sucked more juice from its two big batteries.

‘Christ, she’s not budging, Tich,’ exclaimed Kiwi Smith, his voice betraying his fear.

‘Full astern!’ said Fraser. The air inside the submarine was almost unbearable, and the pressure of the situation made that air feel even thicker and more noxious than a few minutes before. Still the XE-3 refused to move. Fraser’s eyes darted about the submarine’s narrow interior blankly as his mind raced through options and drills. As he listened to the propeller, his wife Melba’s face suddenly came to him, his pregnant wife back home in England. How in the hell did I get myself into this? he thought angrily. He slapped his hand hard against the periscope shaft and ordered again, ‘Half ahead group down’, already feeling horribly like a drowning man as he spoke.

*

About a year and a half before, early in 1944, Tich Fraser had been drinking tea in the wardroom of the submarine HMS H.44 with his best friend, David Carey. The boat, an old H-Class built in 1919, the year before Fraser was born, was docked in Londonderry after yet another sonar sweeping exercise and both men were bored.⁴ The boat was quiet, the crew going about routine matters or ashore. Rainy and grey Northern Ireland was a long way from the shooting war in the Mediterranean, where both men had served with distinction aboard more modern fighting submarines.

Fraser’s father had been a marine engineer, so it had come as little surprise to his family that he himself had chosen to go to sea shortly after leaving High Wycombe’s Royal Grammar School. He joined HMS Conway, a 19th-century battleship that had been converted into a training vessel, before serving in the Merchant Navy for two years, which included visiting Australia. In 1939 Fraser had been commissioned into the ‘Wavy Navy’, the Royal Naval Reserve, so named because the officer’s rank rings on their cuffs were styled in a wave pattern.

Fraser had ended up kicking his heels aboard the H.44 all because of an errant ashtray. He had been a junior officer aboard the S-Class submarine HMS Sahib in the Mediterranean. During a spectacularly successful patrol the Sahib had sunk seven Italian ships and a German U-boat. Fraser was one of several officers awarded the DSC. During a raucous celebratory party in the ward-room of the flotilla depot ship at Algiers the drunken officers had attempted to recreate Twickenham and Lord’s with any objects that were not nailed down. Someone had picked up a large, heavy brass ashtray, called out ‘Catch, Tich’ and slung it at Fraser. He ended up with a broken big toe, a long stay in hospital and a transfer to the UK after the Sahib sailed without him.⁵

The two positive things to emerge from Fraser’s transfer were the opportunity to marry his sweetheart, Melba, who was serving in the Wrens, and his promotion to first lieutenant aboard the H.44.

A young rating entered the wardroom with the signals log tucked under his arm. ‘Thanks, Davis,’ said Fraser as the rating placed the log on the scuffed wooden table between the two officers and withdrew quietly. Fraser leaned forward and cast his bored eye over the pad, expecting to see the usual mundane orders and requests neatly typed out for his review. But today a single word, printed in bold capitals, jumped off the page. That word was ‘SECRET’ and Fraser saw that the signal was from the Flag Officer Submarines to all of His Majesty’s underwater boats. Fraser read on.

Two Lieutenants and two Sub-Lieutenants R.N. or R.N.R. are requested for Special and Hazardous Service in submarines stop Names of Volunteers should be signalled to Flag Officer Submarines immediately.⁶

Fraser said nothing but slid the pad across the table to Carey, a slightly mischievous smile on his lips. While Carey read, Fraser thought to himself, Well, it’s made to measure. Here am I, a Lieutenant R.N.R. There’s David, a Sub-Lieutenant R.N. That’s two for the price of one for the F.O.S.⁷

Fraser watched as Carey read the signal through again. He looked up slowly, his inquisitive blue eyes meeting Fraser’s. ‘Shall we?’ Carey whispered conspiratorially. Fraser replied, a large grin forming across his impish face, ‘Why not?’

*

Fraser and Carey joined other volunteers who had responded from across the fleet. The navy had also recruited several dozen midshipmen, petty officers and ratings for the secret programme. They were joining probably the most secret section of the British armed forces, yet they had very little idea of what they were actually getting themselves into.

‘Special and Hazardous Service’ began with a train ride down to Portsmouth, the home of the Royal Navy. A short ferry ride took Fraser, Carey and the others across the harbour to Gosport and HMS Dolphin. The Dolphin wasn’t a ship but a ‘stone frigate’, a commissioned shore establishment.

The navy began by trying to weed out those who were completely unsuited for the kind of work that they would be undertaking.

‘What are your hobbies?’ asked a pleasant naval psychiatrist after the medical tests were completed. Carey thought it a reasonable question, though the next one was a bit odd. ‘What time do you get up at home on Sunday?’ At each response, the psychiatrist made careful notes. ‘Do you like cats?’⁸ was the next question, and Carey stifled bewildered laughter.

In the subsequent interview the commanding officer was evasive, to say the least. ‘The “Special Service” is most terribly secret,’ he said to Fraser. ‘I cannot tell you what manner of vessel you will serve in except that it is quite small, and navigates with the use of a periscope.’⁹ When Fraser and Carey met up later in the day to compare notes, Fraser joked about the CO’s description. ‘He might as well have drawn me a picture of it.’

After a few of the candidates had been rejected on medical grounds or for failing their psychological profiling, the survivors were asked back to Dolphin to begin their training. It was at this point that the trainees had the first inkling of what they had let themselves in for.

The commanding officer gathered them all together in a small room with all the windows shut and the door firmly locked. ‘What I am about to tell you is absolutely top secret,’ he said. ‘You are not to tell anybody – don’t tell your wife, your girlfriend, don’t tell your mother, sisters, anybody. Nobody at all.’ Fraser and Carey looked at each other, more intrigued than ever. An expectant air seemed to raise the room temperature as the young officers and ratings listened to the briefing, keyed up, excited and a little apprehensive.

‘You have been recruited to man a 30-ton submarine which has been designed to enter enemy harbours and attack enemy ships,’ said the CO. ‘The submarines are fitted with equipment to enhance their chances of entering and leaving enemy harbours undetected and...

Table of contents

• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Acknowledgements
• A note on the text
• List of abbreviations used in the text
• List of Illustrations
• Prologue
• Chapter One: The Expendables
• Chapter Two: Cloak and Dagger
• Chapter Three: ‘Softly, softly, catchee monkey’
• Chapter Four: Westward Ho!
• Chapter Five: ‘Their bird’
• Chapter Six: Zipper
• Chapter Seven: Number Disconnected
• Chapter Eight: Operation Suicide
• Chapter Nine: Siamese Blood Chit
• Chapter Ten: Night Passage
• Chapter Eleven: ‘Dive, dive, dive!’
• Chapter Twelve: Enemy Coast Ahead
• Chapter Thirteen: Heart of Oak
• Chapter Fourteen: Dire Straits
• Chapter Fifteen: The Dirty Bastard
• Chapter Sixteen: ‘Diver out’
• Chapter Seventeen: Trapped
• Chapter Eighteen: Frogman VC
• Chapter Nineteen: Home Run
• Chapter Twenty: Fire in the Night
• Epilogue
• After the war …
• Maps
• Appendix
• Notes
• Index
• Back Cover