TOWED STERN FIRST TO SAFETY

Crippled Cruiser's Grim Fight Against Fire and Bombs

From Reuter Special Correspondent with the Mediterranean Fleet

Towed stern first for almost 150 miles through the Mediterranean, this gallant British Cruiser with her forecastle hanging by a thread and a gaping hole in her side, was able to to reach port after many hours grim fight by the ship's company.

During that last memorable voyage the guns of the ship beat off enemy bombers. Once, a bomb fell close enough for its whistle to be heard, but attacks where ineffective.

For three days, in which we covered 600 miles, much of the way in reverse, I watched the crew working to repair the damage done by bombs, flames and heavy weather. The full story can now be told.

All through their ordeal these men had little time to sleep. Parts of the ship where shattered when an enemy torpedo-bomber came sneaking out of the gathering darkness and sent its "tin fish" tearing into the ship's side. The plane came to within a few hundred yards, and it was impossible for us to turn away in time.

Hit by Torpedo

As one of the two torpedoes hit the ship, a huge sheet of orange coloured flame shot up as high as the masts. There was a loud clanging as if the ship had been struck by a giant sledgehammer.

My cabin canted over steeply to port. Grabbing my tin hat I ran out with others to the upper deck. Listing heavily the ship was still tearing through the water, her stern rising with the swell, the propellors beating a loud tattoo on the churned up sea.

Like a field dressing station, the slanting quarter deck was half covered with pathetic figures on improvised beds.

A chain of men was formed to convey steering orders from the bridge to the after steering position: the ordinary controls were wrecked.

For ten hours that day the heroic crew fought the fire before they mastered it. It broke out agin the next day and two days later it was still smouldering.

All through the night the men strove desparately to prevent the flames from reaching the magazine tightly packed with shells, it could not be flooded: the explosion had damaged the valves.

In the forward boiler room stokersworked in complete darkness with handkerchiefs tied over their mouths to same themselves being suffocated by fumes and smoke.

The captain, disregarding burns he received when the bridge caught fire, consulted with his officers in his tiny "caboose" on the top of the charred bridge.

Damage Control Party's Work

By next morning the damage control party, by pumping out water from some parts and flooding others, had eliminated the list, but the bows were down and the stern high out of the water. Even so, we were making 10 knots.

Men transferred all moveable gear to the quarter deck, to reduce the weight forward, which before long resembled London's Caledonian market. Spare torpedoes gleamed amid a weird pile of great anchor cables, cooking pans, tinned food and even furniture from the Captains cabin.

We had dropped our heavy anchors in the sea to get rid of their weight.

The shattered mess decks in the damaged forecastle resembled a cavern full of swirling green water. During the morning several victims including some who died during the night were buried. Only then did the oil smeared men pause in their work.

The ship covered in this way nearly four hundred miles under her own power. At one time we had made twelve knots, but stormy seas aggrevated the damage and we had to slow down to a mere crawl.

Taken in Tow

When we where 150 miles from port a destroyer took us in tow astern, and thence forth except for the last few miles, we went all the way backwards. At intervals encouraging reports came from forward that "the bulk-heads are holding" and in the final stages tugs came to our aid.

On the last night the towline snapped and for a time we drifted among our own mine fields at the port approaches and appeared to face the added danger of being driven ashore, but both these perils were averted.