Chapter 161, Loch Torridon, Western Highlands, 14 January 1942
The Lieutenant scrambled down the craggy slope and skidded to a halt at the waterline. This he did clumsily, sending shards of black rock splattering into the murky waters of the water. He stumbled into a small hole which sent a spurt of muddy water all over his RN duffel coat.
Oh shit, he cursed to himself,
I look like a bag of crap on my first day. He tried to improve his appearance by brushing at the front of the coat with his hands; this had the effect of smearing the dirt even further in. Sighing, he removed the coat and carried it over his left arm, which exposed his gleaming golden aiguillette. It was bitterly cold. The breeze from the Atlantic was sharp; it woke him up after the hearty salmon breakfast that he had enjoyed in the small pub in the small town of Shieldaig and the salt stung at his face. Fumbling in his pocket he pulled out his binoculars and looked out over the placid waters. Spotting the small yacht he looked around it for a sign of life, finally spotting a small rowing boat making for the shoreline.
Here we go, he thought nervously.
The little boat with its sole occupant circled around. “Bloody coastal current, like a whirpool,” he muttered. He spotted the young officer. “Hallo, you must be my Flags”.
“Lieutenant Aynho, Sir.”
“Alright Aynho, well you know who I am, Vice Admiral Somerville, here,” he gestured to Aynho, “give me a hand tying this up”.
Aynho jogged down, into the freezing water, and helped Somerville to tie the boat to the battered little jetty. Somerville noted with approval that Aynho made light work of the lines.
“You’re obviously a good seaman, Cornish?” Somerville pulled on a jumper as he questioned his new Flag Lieutenant.
“Actually Sir, no, I’m from Alsager.”
“Never heard of it.” He pulled on some thick corduroy trousers.
“It’s in Cheshire, Sir, near Crewe.”
Somerville made an expression of feigned surprise. “A long way from the sea.”
“My family is Cornish Sir, but my father settled in Cheshire after the war. He’s a farmer you see.”
Somerville didn’t but as he slid into some fairly battered deck shoes he didn’t want to embarass Aynho so didn’t press the matter any further. Aynho, under his worn Gieves cap and carrying his filthy duffel coat, struggled to clarify exactly why he had joined the Navy. Cornish surname aside and fighting ancestry aside (for his grandfather, a Commander, had fought the Boxers in China) there was nothing remarkable about him; he was an ordinary middle class boy from the shires. His father, who had been a subaltern in the 2nd Battalion, Royal Fusileers, had waded ashore at Gallipoli and had been astonished at the atrocious leadership shown by the Army’s high command. He had been convinced that the Allied Armies would be slaughtered to a man. The Turkish sniper who had ended his military career (and very nearly his life) had clearly been trying to fulfill that prophecy: the two other officers with whom Aynho’s father had been conversing hadn’t been so lucky as to escape with a wound. His father had been invalided home and had moved as far away from the Army as he could. When Patrick “Paddy” Aynho had arrived in 1920 his father had tried every measure to prevent his son’s ‘following the flag’. It had nearly worked, until a kindly aunt had taken him to see the fleet off Plymouth. Clutching at a small union flag and watchng the majestic warships exercise off the coast he had thrilled at the sight. And so he had worked hard on his maths and had been lucky enough to attend the Naval College at Dartmouth. And now, a few years later, here he was on his first day as Vice Admiral James Somerville’s new Flag Lieutenant.
Somerville sensed that Aynho was lost in reverie, and so allowed him a few minutes’ silence as they walked into Shieldaig. “Is my uniform at the inn?”
“Yes Sir, as well your luggage from the hotel in Inverness.”
“Good man, Aynho, you’ve clearly been busy!” Somerville noticed that Aynho was smiling and found himself grinning. He realised that he could work with this new ‘Flags’. “I don’t suppose that you’ve had breakfast?”
“I have Sir, and I can especially the recommend the local salmon. I’ve told the landlady that you may like breakfast.”
Somerville laughed. “You’ll next be telling me that you’ve organised my correspondence.”
Aynho nodded. “All done, Sir. I took the liberty of keeping the more sensitive papers on my person” he patted at his pocket.
“You may as well give them now,” Somerville said, impressed. “I can see you’ve worked hard, well, there’s a lot of that I am afraid, but this can be a great benefit to your later career.” He shot a pointed look at Aynho.
“Yes Sir, I am very grateful to Captain Bell for recommending me.”
“I read his letter, as well as Rear-Admiral Harwood’s letter. You did well at the River Plate. By all accounts Exeter took a pounding!”
Aynho nodded. “My first action, Sir.”
He said nothing else and Somerville guessed that he was reflecting again, a habit that he would have to try and disguise. Somerville had accepted Aynho as his Flag Lieutenant based on Captain Bell of the Exeter’s personal recommendation, which, unusually, had a strong covering letter from his squadron commander, the renowed Rear-Admiral Sir Henry Harwood, commending the move. Young Aynho, and others like him, had done well out of the little battle off South America: early promotion and a hotly contested appointment had come Aynho’s way. Somerville looked at this innocent looking twenty-one year old, with his lopsided grin, freckled expression and messy red hair, and knew that he would prove pleasant and dedicated company.
“Well, after treading water in the dockyard you’ll be glad of some action. I presume that my new orders were part of that load of mail?”
“They were indeed, Sir,” Aynho said, handing Somerville a crisp envelope.
They were entering the village. Somerville stalked into the inn and ordered tea for them both as well as “as big a breakfast as you can rustle up”. He then sat down with Aynho and read through the contents of the orders.
“Have you read these?”
“I have to confess that I have not, Sir.”
Somerville smiled. “Well, it looks like we’ll need our trops.” ‘Trops’ was tropical uniform, the white shirts, jackets, and shorts and other items that the Royal Navy wore in balmier climates. “That’s a job for you, I’m afraid.” He made a tutting sound, then realised that Aynho was looking at him. He smiled. “Sorry, I was just reading through them again. Well, I am promoted to acting Admiral with immediate effect”. Aynho made a mental note to arrange for the Admiral’s uniforms to be ‘laced up’. “And I am to take command of the Pacific Fleet. Two Illustrious Class ships, HMS Illustrious and HMS Indomitable, as well as HMS Ark Royal, and the cruisers London, York, Berwick, Sheffield, Bonaventure and Achilles, as well as some covering destroyers. Well Lusty and Ark are good ships, I don’t know Indomitable.” He shoved the letter towards Aynho. “Do you know anything about the destroyer flotillas?”
“They’re all fairly modern, Sir,” Aynho said after scanning quickly through the order of battle. “Some Tribal class, but mainly Hunts, and some of the newer Fleet types, Sir.”
“Hmmn. I also have a battleship squadron under my control.” He nodded, happy. “Good, it’s under Vian,” Aynho was making a note of it. “He has a couple of battleships, a small carrier and some escorts. A ha. And that’s my
immediate command.”
“Immediate, Sir?”
“Well, there are also the squadrons bobbing around Singapore. Some battleships under Fraser and a couple of old carriers under Phillips. Lord Hankey plans to augment them further, assign two good Vice Admirals to them and give me authority over them.”
“Quite a powerful force, Sir,” Aynho ventured.
“When you were at the Admiralty, collecting of all these papers, did you gain an impression as to why they were assembling the squadrons like this?”
Aynho paused, very briefly, to collect his thoughts. “I think, Sir, that Lord Hankey has decided to follow the Japanese practice. In the attack upon the Americans the Japanese seemed to have used their battleships and carriers quite distinctly. The Americans, we understand, are following suit and Lord Hankey wants us to in case we have to go to war.”
“Did this strategy originate from Lord Hankey?” Aynho recognised that Somerville was asking an astute question; if the Admiralty was less than united on the dispositions then this could mean trouble for the commanders of the British Fleet.
“I gather that Admiral Pound has been overruled by Lord Hankey on this matter. He wanted more battleships.”
Somerville frowned. “He has a point. Prince of Wales is a fine ship, and Captain Leach is a first class CO, but Valiant’s getting a bit long in the tooth. At least Fraser in Singapore has a couple of KG fives. Who is advising Lord Hankey?”
“Captain Holland, Sir.”
“Holland?”
“Yes Sir, Captain Cedric Holland. He’s just come off Ark Royal and is advising Lord Hankey on carrier operations.”
Somerville sensed the disunity that he feared. If Holland was briefing Hankey over the heads of Pound and the other senior officers then the Admiralty could struggle to support the fleets and squadrons. He grimaced, and decided to change the subject. “So, we have quite a presence in Singapore, even if it is rather jumbled.”
“And we’re in Hong Kong, Sir?” There was a hint of surprise in that.
“Hmmn, I know what you mean, it’s terribly vulnerable. If you were the Japanese, Aynho, and were at war with Britain, what would you do first?”
“I’d try and knock out our capital ships, Sir.”
“Exactly, just like they did with the yanks, you’d surprise the Fleet somewhere and batter it. By anchoring four carriers, two battleships and God knows how many cruisers and destroyers at Hong Kong are we not inviting them to do that?”
“Do you mean to move the Fleet, Sir?”
Somerville raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have to check with General Auchinleck, he’s in command of all Commonwealth forces out there, and I’m only an acting Admiral,” Somerville said rather wistfully. “But if the RAF cannot fight off the Japanese aircraft then I’m afraid that Hong Kong might not be the sleepy colony that everyone seems to think it is.” Somerville looked very grave. “So, how do we tackle the Japanese threat?”
“Well Sir, there’s the Army, in Burma, and we will support them...”
“Yes yes, all correct. But what do we actually do? How do we do it? The main Japanese units, we have to lure them out and knock ‘em out quickly. Remind me to prepare some sort of advice to the Fleet.”
“Yes Sir. Are you doing that today?”
“I think, young man, that I shall have my breakfast, have a shave, and then we shall catch the sleeper down to London for the briefings before we depart. And then it will be off to Hong Kong.”
[Game Effect] – Somerville is appointed to command RN units in the Pacific Theatre.
Much as the British Army (as we’ll see) has done, the RN in the Far East has one senior officer commanding a number of disparate commands. For the Navy though, it’s relatively easy: Vian and Somerville’s own force in Hong Kong, and a complete mess of ships and subordinates in Singapore.
I have to confess, and I beg forgiveness, for (probably) the first element of “gamey-ness” creeping in. I’m not altogether sure that the RN would have organised like they did in the orders to Somerville (separating the CVs and BBs) but I had to make sure that I had a reasonable chance of success in the game. I have justified this on two premises: firstly that the RN would observe the dispositions of the IJN and USN and respond accordingly, and secondly, by having a number of role-based squadrons (i.e. carrier ops, surface warfare) report to Somerville (so that, essentially, the four squadrons are all part of the same Pacific Fleet). Believe me, the RN is still not invulnerable and if war kicks off (of course I know what happens, but I have to maintain secrecy at present!) I will try and use the RN how I think that the tactically intelligent Somerville would, as well as respecting the temperament of his subordinates (and remember, Phillips is part of the Fleet). Hopefully this will avoid too many accusations of my tilting the scales to my advantage. The Fleet in the Far East is small, probably around 40 or so units when TPs and SS (there is a squadron in Singapore) are taken into account, and again this reflects the need to build up military strength in a volatile region with Britannia’s many other strategic requirements. So for every ship that sails to Singapore or Hong Kong, probably another two will remain in the Home, Med or Atlantic Fleets. If I go to war with Japan, it will not be fought by unhistorical abandoning of the important other RN stations.
A quick note on destroyers. The flotillas under Somerville’s direct control are 1 x DD(level 3) and 2 x DD (level 4). The game has these down as Tribal Class and Battle class respectively. It’s still just a tad early for the Battles to be out working in the Fleet, and completely ignores the numerous wartime classes in between. To reflect this I have interposed a class, (hence Aynho’s reference to the “newer types”) and kept it vague – eventually the DD(4) flotillas will be Battles, as they come into service in subsequent months.
Aynho is of course completely rubbish fiction, but I wanted a young and accessible character in the RN to complement Belsay in the Army, Buchan in the FO and Oront in the SIS. I’ve tried to make him promising without being a “one man army” akin to a Sharpe or Hornblower (both on my bookshelf I’m afraid) and certainly not as annoying as the characters in the Aubrey, Fonthill or Hervey novels. He is a promising young officer who has done well from his involvement in the Battle of the River Plate (this, with the RN’s involvement in the Norway Campaign, the brighter moments in the brief 1939-1940 conflict) but is not spectacular. At the side of the senior RN officer in the Far East, he will see some interesting sights in the weeks ahead.
Enewald: I know, with Halifax at the helm it often looks like that!
Carlstadt Boy: FAA will be looked at later. I’ve tried to give a hint as to how Somerville will tackle the Japanese Fleet – he seems to be working on some sort of loose raiding/blockade approach to draw them out. Essentially your instinct is right – the RN is going to struggle, initially, to do much in theatre.
Lord Saladin: Quite an impressive recollection. I think that Woolton’s thought was an initial reaction, rather than a prolonged analysis.
Templar Commander: But unfortunately both nations think that the British are ineffectual surrender-monkeys.
MITSGS John: As usual a good assessment! I think that as the reality of the situation dawns on Halifax, he’ll have to readjust his thinking – or the hawks will lynch him.
Sir Humphrey: I think that the Canadians/South Africans will be more partial to FDR’s scheming, whilst Australia/New Zealand (and India, crucially) will hang on to Blighty a bit longer – though even here there could be trouble if they feel that Britain isn’t defending their interests (politically and militarily).
Kurt_Steiner: No chance, I’m afraid. A month after the DoW on the US and we’re still neutral.
TheExecuter: This gives FDR an opening, a way in which to win over British hearts and minds whilst allaying their (fairly sound) fears. More coming up.
Nathan Madien: Thanks for the support, as ever.
Pershing: I have to confess that I didn’t check this – I just wanted some random statistic to help shock Woolton. I suppose that at this stage they have volunteered, but are not actually in uniform – and presumably the Americans have said no.
Atlantic Friend: Again, at the minute the AI showed little inclination for Germany to DoW the US.
