An extract from the book "The Last Destroyer", the story of HMS Aldenham 1942-1944, first published 1988.

This book was written by F A Mason RN DSM - who saw Mediterranean service on Aldenham from 1941-1944. I have just been informed (9th April 2005) that the author passed away on March 19th 2005 aged 92 years after a short illness, he is dearly missed by his family. His contribution to the story of HMS Arethusa is incalculable.

The SEA BURIAL

Speculation soon became reality by the announcement in a tannoy broadcast of the task in hand, and what a gruesome thing it was going to be. At 1500 hours we would slip and proceed alongside the damaged cruiser Arethusa, take on board approximately 50 dead bodies, proceed to a point about 3 miles off Alexandria and conduct a sea burial, the time to coincide with sunset.

At the appointed time precisely we got underway and proceeded slowly across the harbour to where the Arethusa lay alongside one of the moles. Approaching, we had chance to size up the damage she had sustained, having been hit by a torpedo dropped from an enemy aircraft. 'X' turret was missing completely, and the whole of the front of the bridge was an area of blackened distorted metal, caused by the huge fire after the explosion.

Great gaping holes in her hull for'ard, and was well down at the bows, showing she was partly flooded. But what riveted our attention more then anything was the canvas covered objects lying on the mole, laid out in lines and attached to each one a 4" projectile. The bodies of the Arethusa's men mostly marines - who had perished in that holocaust of an explosion and fire, now sewn up in canvas hammocks, waiting to be carried to their last resting place - the sea, on which they had so gallantly served in the cause of freedom.

Without any fuss we tied up, and a section of the ships guardrails removed on the starboard side against the jetty, and a wide board placed down on to Aldenham's deck and made fast at the other end. Then commenced the job of sliding the bodies carefully down the ramp and stacking them high on deck, some under the boats davits, some against the torpedo tubes, and more aft towards the quarterdeck, leaving the port side clear for the conduction of the service.

The last body brought inboard, the board pulled back, the guardrails replaced, and then two padres came in board followed by a funeral firing party from H.M.S. Orion, and lastly a very young marine bugler.

With a signal from the bridge wires were cast off, and Aldenham slowly moved away, to commence her journey to the open sea. At the same time the cruiser had cleared lower deck, the men standing quietly facing outboard, caps removed in a last farewell gesture to their fallen comrades. Suddenly the peace of the afternoon was shattered by the shrill blast of a bosun's call from high up on the cruisers bridge.

The 'still'. Everybody at attention, and not a sound except the Aldenhams screws churning up the water. Then the 'carry on', as the ship turned away crossing the harbour to the open sea, ensign at half mast.

Slowly we cleared the boom and out into the blue calm of the Mediterranean, the sun settling away in the western sky throwing long rays across the placid water.

The ships engines shut down and slowly we came to a standstill, and with that the C. of E. Padre stood up on the torpedo tubes platform and commenced this solemn service for burial at sea, his voice sadly droning on, the ships company gathered around with heads bent, and sea breezes playing little tricks on hair and collars. Then it was the R.C. service. Emotionally and bravely, the Padre carried on this sad service until at the conclusion he closed his prayer book with a definite movement. This was the cue for the funeral firing party. At a command from their officer they raised their rifles to the firing position. Then one volley, another and another until the end, and with that the order 'present arms'. A pause and the marine bugler sprang to attention, his bugle ready at his lips. Loud and clear across that still blue water - the 'Last Post'. Slowly the notes died away and the one minutes silence. Everybody and everything dead quiet, even the sea breezes and birds seemed to pause in stillness at this very heart rending moment. Then it was over as if a spell had been broken and men who had volunteered commenced their gruesome task of committing the bodies to the deep.

The guardrails were slipped a suitable board positioned, and in pairs the corpses were tilted over the side. Half way through this task some of the bodies were floating having not been sufficiently weighted, and both padres became very agitated, but their fears were soon allayed when P.O. Harvey and another man produced a couple of very long boat hooks, and gently pressed the bodies under until they sank. As the setting sun disappeared below the distant watery horizon, proclaiming the end of another day, so the last body was committed to the deep.

All over, the ships engine room was given the order 'slow ahead' and we turned for Alexandria harbour, a wistful look back at a solitary poppy wreath bobbing lightly on the waves. All that was left to show the resting place of those brave men who had paid the extreme sacrifice.

Somewhere across the sea in our homelands postmen and telegraph boys would be knocking at doors handing in telegrams, "The Admiralty regrets......" . So much for the fight for freedom.

On landing the padres and firing party, the Aldenham returned to her usual billet (another destroyer had taken over E.M.D.) and at 1800 hours the pipe went out 'Hands muster for additional rum issue". Quietly the men mustered with their jugs cans, but there was no cheering. They had performed a very unpleasant job, efficiently and dignified, and it had left the ships' company with some very sombre thoughts. Leave was piped for 1900 but no one was interested. All they needed was peace and a long restful undisturbed night.