Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Dad’s Navy Days: PT 7 - A door opens at the King’s Arms Hotel

John Woods, writer from Scotland, asked for information related to my father and his navy training (and mishap) on the shores near Irvine, 1941.

I sent him a boat load.

Hi John,

Please find below two excerpts and snaps of poor quality photographs from 'St. Nazaire to Singapore: The Canadian Amphibious War 1941 - 1945 Volume 1', the second excerpt is my dad's story related to his quality time on Irvine's sandbars.

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"Our LCAs (i.e., landing craft assault) were then moored in Irvine Harbour on the Ayrshire coast. We were housed in Nissen huts and tents at HMS Dundonald. The pubs of the harbour were well used. Our camp was surrounded by a barbed wire fence. Some enterprising matelots found them penetrable, as recorded in one of our photos of the time. Len Birkenes and others went forth and back through the fence to enjoy Scottish hospitality.

"The Schuyts were the biggest exercises thus far manned by Combined Operations. In conception and organization they were planting the seed that matured on D-day. The exercise troops were loaded from the mainland and great excitement was present since the beaches would be attended by dignitaries including King George VI, Winston Churchill and our new chief, Lord Louis Mountbatten. They had assembled to witness The Shape of Things to Come.

"Doug Harrison's account begins in the middle of the first dark night. We planned to surprise the enemy and of course there were surprises for us too." (Author unknown)

(re 'Schuyts' - And I quote: "The name picked was that of a class of agreeable small Dutch vessels carrying cargo about the peacetime European coast and river ways." I suppose the name suited exercises undertaken by Combined Ops that included the Merchant Marine).

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Exercise Schuyt 1: Marooned on a Submerged Sand Bar, by Doug Harrison, L/Sea (Leading Seaman), RCNVR

It was so damn dark.

"Keep closed up!"

I can still hear Andy Wedd's voice to this day. (I am glad I saw him shortly before his death).

At the night exercise the time of arrival was midnight. The crew was Koyl, Art Bailey, Stoker Lank (and his pail - Stoker Willard Lank was always chewing kelp) and myself, with a full complement of English soldiers.

Believe me, these fellows were sick soldiers. Bailey and I lashed ourselves down as best we could and emptied the helmets as the soldiers handed them up.

Destination or landing? I don't remember.

Troon? I can only vaguely remember two perimeter lights in the distance.

We were perhaps headed south and it was rough. Our craft ran aground on a sand bar. (All of what follows is true).

Koyl ordered everybody - Bailey and I - overboard to look or tread for deeper water. Koyl came too.

First we tried rocking the craft in conjunction with the motors. No luck. Wandering in sea boots, underwear, and duffel coat, I fell into deeper water (which wasn't too cold, fortunately) and hollered, "Over here, sir!"

So we worked our asses off to free the LCA and were successful. The soldiers helped to rock the craft.

Koyl's fuming, "We are going to be late!" And he is flotilla commander. Bailey and Koyl were able to get aboard. I wasn't and they drove off and left me out in the water.

I was scared, but I felt I knew Mr. Koyl. I discarded all my clothing but uniform pants and underwear, found a sand bar and waited it out. They made their landing eventually but... How is he going to find me? This is unbelievable!

I thrashed my arms, swam on my back for short stints to maintain circulation and after an eternity I saw an Aldis lamp blinking. Motors were cut, then revved up, and cut. Koyl had a fair idea perhaps but I don't know how he knew where to locate me.

Eventually our voices came reasonably close together. I was caught in the light of the Aldis lamp and picked up after one and a half or two hours waiting. My hands were all wrinkled. I felt all in.

When we returned to Irvine, Koyl, Bailey and I hurried to a local pub (now known as the Harbour Light). We were given hot porridge, rum, and our clothes were taken to be dried, and we were wrapped in blankets. All of this help came from ladies. It was late afternoon before we left the pub - Royal Sovereign or King George?

I was a very lucky fellow. In the darkness Koyl and Bailey took awhile before they missed me. I didn't really know what went amiss but the fact that the landing had to be made on time was uppermost in Koyl's mind.

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Beside an accompanying B and W photo of the King's Arms Hotel, likely supplied by those who compiled the book (and not my father), is the following caption: The Public House, the Kings Arms where the Skinner family revived Doug Harrison and the rest of Jack Kolye's Boat Crew. They used hot drinks, hot porridge and hot blankets. Pub's name has been changed, perhaps in honour of the occasion to "The Harbour Light."


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Father was 21 - 22 years old at the time; the nickname 'Cactus' appears on his Canadian naval records. No mystery there.

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Please click here to read PT 6 - A door opens at the King’s Arms Hotel

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