Arctic Convoys

99 year old Lt. Stuart Murray William Farquharson-Roberts was born at Lower Bourne, Farnham, Surrey, on 3 June 1922 and apologises for being a bit forgetful but has a strong voice and a clear mind. His wife is in hospital but he is hoping she will be home for his 100th Birthday on the 3 June. Capt S. M. W. Farquharson-Roberts O.B.E. was placed on the retirement list on 30th March 1977.

In the late 1930ies he was sent to Brighton College, an independent boarding school established in 1845. He took the special entry exam for Dartmouth in 1939, was good at mathematics, passed, did well at the interview and entered the Royal Navy College, Dartmouth, aged eighteen in 1940. On the 3 June 1940, his 18th birthday and second day at Dartmouth, he received a message that his father, Colonel M.F. Farquharson-Roberts of the Royal Army Service Corp (RASC), had escaped from Dunkirk aboard a destroyer. It could have been HMS Venomous, the destroyer my father served in much later in the war, which on that day brought back 1,400 troops including Generals Alexander and Percival.

At the end of his first term at Dartmouth twenty of the cadets volunteered to begin their service as midshipmen in allied warships. Stuart Farquharson-Roberts was one of three cadets who joined the Australian heavy cruiser, HMAS Australia (Captain R.R. Stewart R.N). HIs wartime service had a dramatic beginning when HMAS Australia was sent to Dakar, the French naval base on the west coast of Africa, to demand the surrender of the French Fleet after the fall of France, Operation Menace. It was mportant to prevent the French Fleet falling into German hands, and especially their new battleship Richelieu.

HMAS Australia was part of a powerful force which included an aircraft carrier, the Ark Royal, two battleships, HMS Barham and Resolution, five cruisers and eleven destroyer escorts. On 23 September they were ordered to steam offshore so that the French warships could see how powerful they were and be persuaded to surrender and join the Free French forces under General de Gaulle. Their orders from naval headquarters required them to determine whether the French were “Happy, sticky or nasty”. Mid Stuart Farquharson-Roberts was on the Air Defence Position above the bridge with a clear view of what happened as they approached. The Walrus, their catatapult launched flying boat, took off to observe the French fleet and was shot down killing all three of its crew and when HMAS Australia came within range the French shore batteries opened fire. From his position above the bridge Stuart thought the shells were hurtling straight towards him. It was clear that the French were "nasty" and had no intention of surrendering.

The powerful French destroyer L'Audacieux left harbour and steamed towards HMAS Australia. Captain R.R. Stewart R.N. decided to signal her in French to surrender or she would be sunk but neither he or the Australians on the bridge knew any French. His 18 year old Midshipman, until recently a schoolboy at Brighton College, called out that he knew some French and was told by Captain Stewart to come on down. He had a problem with the French word for sunk but a dictionary was brought to the bridge and Stuart's translation was signalled to the French destroyer and received a single word reply, "Jamais". Captain Stewart asked what it meant and Stuart told him, "Never!" The Captain ordered Australia to open fire at 1624/23 and three minutes later the French destroyer was on fire from stem to stern. According to one report a RN destroyer was sent to pick up survivors but the French shore batteries opened fire on her and she withdrew. The French ship burned for 36 hours and was eventually beached.

A landing was attempted by Free French troops from French sloops but withering fire from a strong point overlooking the beach thwarted this attack and it was called off. General de Gaulle is supposed to have declared, "He did not want to shed the blood of Frenchmen for Frenchmen" and Operation Menace was abandoned leaving Vichy Forces in control of Dakar. Midshipman Mackenzie J Gregory also serving in HMAS Australia gives a more detailed account of the Battle of Dakar on Ahoy, Mac's Web Log. In November 1942, Vichy French forces in North Africa switched sides and joined the Free French and after repair in New York the French Battleship Richelieu served with the Home Fleet at Scapa Flow and in the war against Japan in the Pacific.

Midshipman Farquharson-Roberts left HMAS Australia near Sydney, Australia, on 24 June 1941 and his S264, the "flimsy" he received from Capt Stewart, noted that he was “cool and collected in action”. He and the other two Midshipmen from Dartmouth, Ian Campbell and Rober R. "Bob" Fernie (killed when the submarine, HMS Regent, was lost on 11 April 1943) returned to Britain in a "banana boat", MV Port Dunedin, a Defensively Equipped Merchant Ship (DEMS), with six DEMS Gunners, as described by Alick Sangster:

The French Atlantic ports were occupied by Germany and their convoy headed east across the Pacific and through the Panama Canal to the Atlantic. They headed along the eastern seabord of the United States to Halifax in Nova Scotia where the convoys assembled for the Atlantic crossing to Liverpool, staying well clear of the French coast. The Port Dunedin joined Convoy HX143, a large convoy of 73 ships, which left Halifax on 5 August 1941. Stuart remembered passing HMS Prince of Wales and seeing Winston Churchill smoking a cigar on the quarter deck. The three Midshipman stood on the port side of their banana boat and saluted him as they passed and he waved back. Churchill was returning to Britain after signing the Atlantic Charter on 13 August with Rosevelt aboard the USS Augusta in Placenta Bay, Newfoundland. This brief encounter made a deep impression on all the ships in the convoy - and on Churchill:

At the age of 99 Stuart Murray William Farquharson-Roberts can no longer remember the sequence of the ships in which he served and exact dates but after returning to Britain he served in the heavy cruiser HMS Cumberland, the old R-Class destroyer HMS Skate and spent a few weeks on the V & W Class destroyer, HMS Vanity escorting East Coast Convoys and on the battleship HMS Renown before taking his Seamanship Exam and joining HMS Archer, a "Woolworth's Carrier", an escort carrier built quickly on the cheap from the hull of a merchant ship. The British built Woolworth's Carriers and the American Attacker Class escort carriers swung the balance in favour of the escorts for Arctic Convoys. He joined HMS Westcott as Navigation Officer in 1943.

This brief description of Christmas Day 1943 when HMS Westcott was escorting return convoy RS.55A was first published in Hard Lying, the magazine of the V & W Destroyer Association, and republished along with many other articles from Hard Lying in Stormy Fairweather's book of the same name.

"On that day I was a 21 year old Lieutenant, one of three bridge watch keepers in HMS Westcott, a WWI destroyer, escorting the homeward bound convoy RA.55A, roughly south of Bear Island. I had the middle watch, so Christmas started for me at 0001 on the bridge. Course west, wind south west rising to gale force, plenty of icy spray. We spent much of the time finding four fleet destroyers, lent for protection, but to pass them the message that they were now required to join the eastbound convoy JW55B which had recently passed us.

My next watch was the afternoon, so Christmas lunch had to be taken alone in the wardroom at around 1130. Our course was now northwest towards the pack ice, presumably to distance us from trouble - intelligence reporting that the mighty battlecruiser SCHARNHORST was stirring and might be sailing north. The wind was now gale force and on our port beam, strong enough to roll us 45 to 50 degrees to starboard. To stop everything flying about, the wardroom staff secured the settee and the two arm chairs hard up against the starboard wall settee, thus making a comfortable channel in which to sit with lunch on one's lap, without fear of the meal taking flight. Despite the turmoil the steward produced delightful roast beef and a wonderful roast potato - why "wonderful"? Because we only had upper deck stowage for vegetables, so after three days out from our Russian port anything not eaten would be frost bitten and ditched. The wardroom cook [bless him!] kept enough spuds below to give us all one for Christmas. Otherwise it would have been rice balls - edible but not quite the same. Next came the usual figgy duff, nice enough!

Soon it was time for my duffel coat, oilskin and neck towel - at all costs keep the icy spray off your chest! - and now the very careful opening of the starboard watertight door to the upper deck. This has five steel clips, one above and below, three down the side, the middle where a handle would normally be. This one you leave to last, and seize the moment when returning from the big starboard roll to get out. You now have a few seconds in which to close all five clips, get round forward of your superstructure where you reach a long, high, taut jackstay reaching to the break of the forecastle. From it hang strips of rope called lizards, with hard eyes so they can travel along the jackstay. You grab one and start walking along the iron deck - V&W destroyers have no passage below. Once or twice progress will be interrupted when the big roll lets seawater foam across the deck - "shipping it green", as they say. This can dislodge your seaboots' slippery grip, but as long as you keep hugging that lizard you will soon get going again. At least you can see things; midday in midwinter at those latitudes gives you a dim dawn slowly turning into a similar dusk, with about 21 hours of darkness ahead. Arriving at the forecastle you change grip with care to a metal rung ladder - gloves essential, the icy rungs would take strips off your bare hands - and after three such ladders you are back on your open bridge.

Christmas afternoon brought the news that the Scharnhorst and escorting destroyers were at sea, probably after the laden outward convoy JW.55B, that three of our cruisers were joining its defence. One was Belfast, still alongside at London. The Home Fleet was steaming east at top speed to join the fray. In RA.55A we were fast leaving the scene but could follow the Boxing Day ensuing battle by radio, since Admiral Frazer in the battleship Duke of York decided to use plain language for signals for greater speed of action. As the gallant Scharnhorst finally went down fighting there was rejoicing, but 70 years on one remembers that only 36 survivors were picked up from 1,767 men. Men probably very similar to us, and often with a common enemy, the sea."

22.1.44

After a very tiring night spent at action stations, dragging the anchor, we proceeded across Loch Ewe to find a more sheltered billet. The wind moderated slightly, and one began to wonder whether conditions were fair enough to put to sea. The disadvantage of doing so was a debatable matter. We would have greatly liked a good night in before leaving harbour (the previous night being less of a night in than one would ever get at sea) but on the other hand the convoy had already been delayed several days on account of the weather and prevailing opinion was “lets get the evil business over and done with”.

Wishful thinking was brought to an end however when the Commodore hoisted his ‘Weigh and Proceed’ signal. Since we were the Senior Officer for the opening stages we had to be out with the leading hip, which was rather annoying as it always means hanging around for hours outside until the convoy forms up.

Heavy seas were encountered as soon as we left Loch Ewe. Not a propitious start. Coming up suddenly the weather caused nearly half the ship’s company to succumb to sea sickness. Thanks to the doctors pills I was among the happier half.

After the usual stooging around while the convoy joined up, we took up station ahead and proceeded to Iceland. For some days past, grim signals had been coming in, an extremely severe gale had broken up the convoy ahead of us and we soon passed one or two ships which had to leave and subsequently turn back, JA56A (Roskill).

The expected seldom happens however and we struck nothing worse than a heavy swell and a force 6 wind from the SW, quite normal for these waters.

25.1.44

Two uneventful days passed in the convoy and we picked up land echoes by radar at long range on the morning of the 25th. As we had to refuel at Suddisfjord we left. Convoy behind at 1000 hrs and carried on t 18 knots.

During the afternoon a local offshore wind picked up, quickly becoming a force 8 gale and lashing the sea up until we had to reduce speed on account of the heavy bumping. One of the advantages of being in these old destroyers is that one has to take care of them more than the fleet destroyers in heavy seas, since their old plates cannot stand up to much without the rivets beginning to loosen. Consequently, it never becomes too uncomfortable. During the afternoon a fleet of destroyers which has unsuccessfully tried to meet us eight hours earlier went past at 20 knots and at times gave a very realistic imitation of a submarine.

It was bitterly cold, and the spray froze almost before it hit the bridge, so we were soon iced up on the standing rigging and fo’castle guard rails.

We entered Suddisfjord about 1630 and wen straight alongside the oiler. After a while the Whitehall came alongside, and we were able to take a few drinks together and wish each other luck before the long trip started.

We slipped at 2200 and proceeded to re-join the convoy, first securing the ship in anticipation of heavy weather. Once again, we met the unexpected, the wind dropped, and a brilliant aurora was playing over a clear blue sky. We picked up the convoy without difficulty, taking up station well ahead until daylight afforded us better chance of sorting things out.

26.1.44

The 3rd destroyer flotilla joined the convoy as expected next forenoon and we took up position on the port quarter of the convoy. The convoy now had a formidable escort of six fleet destroyers, twelve V & W destroyers, several fleet sweepers and some corvettes, far more than would be found on any Atlantic convoy. This is probably due to the possibility of interference by the Tirpitz in Kola fjord or a flotilla of German destroyers.

Continued
During the day a sea swell subsided, the wind dropped and for once it was quite pleasant to be on the job. Calm weather means increased enemy activity, however, so we were not surprised to see an unidentified aircraft during the afternoon at extreme range – probably a JU88 making preliminary reports of the convoy movements. It soon disappeared and we rightly surmised that that we had been spotted and reported to the Germans. This meant a probable return of the aircraft the next day to check up on our speed and possibly start homing the U-boats and other aircraft homing in on us.

27.1.44

Sure enough, at 1300 the next day he was back again, a bit bolder this time. Coming within range of one or two of the heavier armed ships. He would have to be close indeed to come within effective range of our two four-inch guns. However, hope springs eternal and we closed up at air station action stations on the off chance. By now it was quite clear the enemy knew all about us and from other information received we knew that several U-boats were converging on us. Reports from the convoy ahead indicated that they had been through a heavy attack, three merchant ships had been sunk and one escort damaged. This afforded us one consolation in that at least six U-boats had had their stings drawn and would be going home for new ones.

28.1 44

The convoy ahead had reached their destination the next day and we were very pleased to hear that the 26th destroyer flotilla was doing a quick turn around and coming back to help us. The U-boats would now have a very tough nut to crack, with such a strong support group patrolling around the convoy, leaving a strong screen intact.

Meanwhile, the general situation pointed to an attack by U-boats not before the 29th for they do not attack as they arrive but wait and form up into a pack some way off first. On the other hand, a large-scale air attack with glider bombers and other horrors was quite on the cards for the 28th.

Continued
But the air attack never came, possibly they are running out of aircraft in other outposts of their ill-gotten Empire. Instead, the normal shadow turned up punctually at 1300, a BV 138 this time. He stayed about an hour.

29.1.44

Now for it? RT silence had been broken all ships were on top line, at 1100 on the 29th we saw and heard heavy gun fire on the horizon by the starboard quarter of the convoy. The report soon came over the air Whitehall and Mahratta were engaging two surface U-boats. Whitehall again! She always seems to have the fun. No jealousies are as strong as family ones, as in the case here where her Skipper, Lt Cdr Cowell is my second cousin-in-law. A few minutes later both U-boats had dived, no hits had been observed and the two destroyers proceeded to sit on ‘em gradually dropping astern. Soon the distant rumble of depth charges which were to be heard almost incessantly for the next three days announcing headaches, at least, for the two U-boat crews. Even if the depth charges do not prove fatal, they achieve the chief aim of preventing the submarines concerned from taking any further part in the operation. For although the hulls take a lot of cracking electric light bulbs and already frayed nerves don’t.

On the strength of this excitement we had gone to action stations, which was just as well as a couple of shadowing BV138’s decided to have a really close look at us. This gave us a long-awaited chance to open fire, but it was an abortive shoot. The rounds falling into the water at short range. Still, it achieved the purpose of masking the planes keep their distance. We switched to defence watches (one in two instead of one in three) so as to have both guns manned, but apart from Whitehall and Mahrattas’ continued attacks, nothing further happened during the afternoon and the convoy arrived safely in Kola on 2.2.44. Returning with 37 ships on the 3 February, arriving at Loch Ewe on the 11 February 1944.

On the 27 March 1944 Westcott escorted JW.58 from Loch Ewe and arrived at Kola on 5 April with no losses and returned with RA.58 from Kola on 7 April arriving back at Loch Ewe on the 14 April 1944.

Lt. Stuart Murray William Farquharson-Roberts RN

On leaving HMS Westcott he joined HMS Conn, a turbo-diesel ("Buckley") Captain Class frigate named after Captain John Conn of HMS Dreadnought at the Battle of Trafalgar. Her CO was Lt Cdr Raymond Hart who had commanded the V & W HMS Vidette, a member of the B7 Escort Group during the defence of Convoy ONS.5 in April 1943. Hart was the Senior Officer of the 21st Escort Group (1944-45) in Conn and led them in sinking three U-boats in March 1945, two in one day. Stuart Farquharson-Roberts remained in the Royal Navy after the war and retired as Capt Stuart M.W. Farquharson-Roberts RN in 1977. He lives in Steep, Hampshire, has internet access and e-mail (via his carer) and still occasionaly drives a car.

Edwin Philip "Ted" Cross
RDF Operator in Westcott, June 1943 to the end of the War

Ted Cross was born at Erith in Kent on 11 July 1925. He left school at 14 and had several jobs before volunteering for the Navy six months before his eighteenth bithday to avoid being conscripted into the Army. He did his ten weeks basic training course at HMS Collingwood at Fareham in Hampshire.

Clifford "Stormy" Fairweather was born at Colchester on 11 July 1926 and served in HMS Westcott as a Signalman, a "bunting tosser". "Stormy" was drafted to HMS Westcott where Bob Smale was a Leading Signalman, on an Arctic Convoy to Murmansk on the Kola Inlet. He was inspired by the founding of the North Russia Club by shipmate Chris Tye to form the Westcott Club which led to the founding of the of the V & W Destroyer Association. Stormy Fairweather died on Sunday 19 March 2017 and the Association was dissolved at its meeting at Derby in April. Stormy told his own story of Arctic Convoys in Hard Lying (2005) and on this web page below.