The Lost Band of Brothers (19 page)

There was no moon. Ahead, through the darkness, they could just make out the dark gleam of the
Duchessa d’Aosta.
The
Likomba
lay unseen, her position noted.
Nuneaton
moved slowly ahead and then stopped 40 yards inside the two flashing lights that marked the harbour entrance to lower her two grey-painted Folbot canoes. One headed off in the wrong direction before being frantically recalled, the other made her way silently towards
Likomba
, both two-man crews paddling silently in the darkness as they closed in on their quarry. Lt Graham Hayes and Sergeant Tom Winter were in the first canoe and two volunteers – District Commissioners William Newington and A.F. Abell – were in the second.
Nuneaton
restarted her engine – ‘with a honk that could have been heard for miles’
10
– and swung away into the darkness around the west of the harbour to bring her up alongside
Likomba
. As she did so
Vulcan
swept past between the two harbour lights, heading around the east side of the bay in a gentle curve that would place her port side alongside the starboard side of the
Duchessa.

On
Vulcan
the boarding parties formed up fully armed, packed together on the mess deck as they waited to take their place on the boarding planks run out over the tumblehome of
Vulcan
’s sides. There was a stern light on the
Duchessa
and one or two lit cabin portholes attested to people aboard. As they swung round closer, engine stopped but still under way, figures could be seen on the after-deck. But there were no shots and no shouts as
Vulcan
closed the last remaining yards, her armed boarding party clustered tightly together on the boarding platforms. Just seconds to go now. March-Phillipps was in front.

Nearby, Graham Hayes and Tom Winter closed in on the
Likomba
. As they did so ‘we were amused to see a lighted window in which the light was dipping and flashing, mixed up with which we read the repeated signal OK, OK.’ It was, said Tom Winter later, ‘The most ancient of spy signals, a blind raised and lowered at a lighted window by the docks.’
11
Graham Hayes reported: ‘The work done by our agents ashore had been very thorough which probably accounted for the absence of the two officers from the
Likomba
when the canoe parties boarded.’
12

Indeed it did. Reminded by Major Victor Laversuch that 65 per cent of the success of Operation
Postmaster
rested upon his ability to lure away the officers of both
Duchessa d’Aosta
and
Likomba
to a shore-side dinner party, SOE Officer Capt. Richard Lippett (W25) had not failed his friends. He – using as local cover a sympathetic anti-Falangist, Don Abalino Zorilla – had organised a ‘dry-run’ party just after Christmas which had been attended by
most
– but not all – of the German and Italian officers aboard
Duchessa d’Aosta
and
Likomba
. Thanks to the depth of SOE’s coffers, the drink had flowed particularly freely and the party had been judged a great success. So successful, indeed, that the German officers aboard
Duchessa
had felt compelled to extend a return invitation to a party aboard ship on 6 January. That too had been a success. Now Lippett had countered with a second invitation. And this time all eight
Duchessa
officers – including the Acting Captain Umberto Valle and the officers of the
Likomba
, including Capt. Specht – had accepted. Now, as
Vulcan
and
Nuneaton
eased quietly into position on silent engines, as nervous men fingered their weapons and bunched together on boarding ramps, as four men in double Folbot canoes dug their paddles deep into dark water and moved in on their targets, all those officers were seated at the Casino Restaurant above the port, their backs to the harbour, their night vision conveniently wrecked by the considerate lighting of Tilley lamps that had been provided to keep the party going as soon as the town lights had been doused at midnight.

Meanwhile, in the harbour below, the attack on the officer-less
Likomba
was already underway:

The watchman on the
Likomba
challenged and flashed a light as the canoe came alongside the lighter (a barge which was secured along the starboard side of the
Likomba
). Non-commital noises were made in reply and the watchman came forward to help with the painter as he was under the impression it was the Captain coming back on board. A letter was proffered and intimation made that it was for the Captain. The watchman said that both officers were ashore.
13

For the second time that evening the second canoe, manned by District Commissioners Abell and Newington, set off to attack the wrong ship. Realising their mistake in time, they swung away from an empty Spanish launch, paddled alongside and boarded
Likomba
:

The first and more professional of the two [canoes] were challenged by a native from the
Likomba
but he took no immediate alarm when asked for his master in pigin English. As however the visitors came aboard he became unhappy, and when a second canoe followed and the chains blew, he and two of his mates went sprinting down the long deck and went popping over the side into the sea like performing gymnasts over a horse.
14

They were not the only ones discomforted by the explosion. A third team of two from
Nuneaton
were boarding just at the moment the charges went off. Their task was to secure the tow between
Likomba
and
Nuneaton
:

As the two figures clambered over the side loaded with Mills bombs, Tommy-guns, hatchets, torches and the towing hawser, a somewhat Australian voice roared ‘Get out you …! I’ve just blown!’ He certainly had. Both the climbers were blown into the air and landed, one on the sundeck, the other on a bollard back aboard
Nuneaton
. The first had his Mills bomb blown unexploded from his hand, and the second received a cracked rib. Then the stern moorings, after one misfire, went off and the
Likomba
was adrift and still completely divorced from
Nuneaton
. A second attempt to board from
Nuneaton
went well and though
Likomba
was fast turning, the hawser was made fast and the party was over.
15

Aboard
Vulcan
, it was the closing moments. In the van was Lassen, cosh at his waist, a length of thin messenger line over his shoulder coiled and ready to throw. As
Vulcan
passed the rope ladder leading to the cabin deck, he leapt aboard.
Vulcan
touched and March-Phillipps and the first wave of five raiders crossed to the
Duchessa
, their moment of maximum danger and commitment covered by two Brens on the roof of
Vulcan
’s bridge.
Vulcan
had hit hard. Now she recoiled, touched again. Another six raiders jumped aboard followed by a final party which included a doctor with medical supplies, who found that
Vulcan
had now moved too far forward to trans-ship and had to cross on an 8-foot bamboo ladder thrown across a dark abyss. All reached the
Duchessa
without mishap.

March-Phillipps and ‘Haggis’ Taylor made their way straight to the bridge whilst Lassen looped his messenger line around a bollard on the
Duchessa
and flung the coiled line back to Robin Duff aboard the
Vulcan
: ‘Pull!’ yelled Lassen. ‘Pull, Robin! Pull like fuck!’ Duff pulled. First the light messenger and then the heavy towing hawser came aboard, hauled in by Lassen on his own. Meanwhile, SOE’s Desmond Longe (W30) was following March-Phillipps and ‘Haggis’ as they hurried to the bridge:

We ran up the little ladder from the well-deck on the promenade of the merchant ship, chased along the gangway. By this time we had a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other. The first thing I knew was something between my legs and I went for a burton and I thought it was a panicking Italian, or something or other. In actual fact it was a pig because the Italians had two or three pigs on the deck at the back.
16

Like the
Duchessa
’s days at anchor, those of the pig were also numbered. As boarding parties hurried through the ship, herding startled and unresisting prisoners ahead of them to cluster under armed guard in the after saloon, the explosives teams made their way to stem and stern of the
Duchessa
with their primed charges: Appleyard to the bows, Eyres and Long to the mooring cables astern. ‘There was no resistance worthy of the name,’ reported March-Phillipps afterwards. ‘… the whole operation, from entering to leaving the harbour, went according to plan.’
17
And, so far, though the middle-aged stewardess aboard
Duchessa
had fainted at the sight of the boarding party, not a shot had been fired. ‘Only one blow was struck, and that was when one of the volunteers found an enemy officer “looking aggressive”. The poor wretch did not look very aggressive after a tap with his assailant’s “persuader”.’
18
Other Italian crewmen were struck a little later after showing a reluctance to lie down on the deck: ‘Their sick heads were due to having no English … a large Public Works Official had to take to his persuader and play a quick
arpeggio
on their heads. The wounds were not very grave, and the casualties served a very good breakfast next morning.’
19
The original plan had stipulated that
Duchessa
’s charges would be blown first. Only then would Graham Hayes and his men blow the restraints holding
Likomba
at anchor. It didn’t work out that way: ‘As the
Nuneaton
had given doubtful proof of her abilities on the way to Fernando Po, it had been decided to blow the cables on the
Likomba
as soon as ready,’ reported Graham Hayes.
20
The charges blew,
Nuneaton
picked up the tow and
Likomba
with another vessel lashed to her side began to move steadily towards the mouth of the harbour. The second vessel, the yacht
Bibundi
, was added as something of an afterthought. Hayes’ first instinct had been to cut her adrift: ‘Take her, Graham, because of these,’ urged Tom Winter, shining his torch over snapshots he had found in the cabin. These showed a woman – perhaps the owner’s wife – posing against a swastika flag flying from the
Bibundi
’s jackstaff.
21
Expensive snapshots. Now
Bibundi
too was a prize of war.

From
Vulcan
’s engine-room, Leslie Prout reported:

the Chief and Second Engineers were waiting for the clang of the telegraph and every ounce of steam and every evolution they could coax out of the 2,000 h.p. engines. In the stokehold I was telling the sweating stokers the tale as I had never told it before, and promised them a big ‘dash’ if they worked well. My powers of persuasion were considerably assisted by a tommy-gun and a Colt .45.
22

His presence there – and his powers of persuasion – were vital: the
Vulcan
was planning to pull out an 8,500-tonne inert merchant vessel with no power from a cold, standing start. She would need every ounce of strength she could gather. As
Nuneaton
slid past
Vulcan
with her two tows astern on the way to their rendezvous 200 miles away in the safety of international waters, March-Phillipps, waiting impatiently on
Duchessa
’s bridge, received the news he had been waiting for: the ship was his. He gave the signal: a long blast on his whistle and ‘with a titanic roar and a flash that lit up the whole island the Duchess lost the principal lace to her stays’.
23
But she was not yet free.

Below decks on
Vulcan
:

The telegraph clanged in the engine room of the tug and the Chief opened the throttle wide. The powerful engines shook the tug as she strained and pulled at her huge burden and the water was churned up into a phosphorescent race by the thrash of her propellers. The liner did not move. In the silence that followed the explosions Apple’s clear voice was heard ‘I am laying another charge.’ One of the forward charges had failed to ignite and Apple, realising that the whole success of the operation depended upon him, rushed forward and laid another charge with a short fuse on the huge anchor chain. After what seemed like an eternity Apple’s voice rang out again: ‘I am going to blow!’ Unable to get back to proper shelter he crouched behind a nearby winch. A blinding flash and a huge explosion followed immediately, the tug’s propellers thrashed again, and the huge liner lurched and began to slide forward. A mighty shout rang from the bridge: ‘My God, she’s free!’
24

March-Phillipps reported afterwards:

Vulcan
’s performance was almost miraculous. She gave the
Duchessa
two slews, one to starboard, one to port, like drawing a cork out of a bottle, and then without the slightest hesitation, and at a speed of at least three knots, went straight between the flashing buoys to the open sea, passing
Nuneaton
and
Likomba
a few cable lengths from the entrance. This operation, the most difficult in my view, was performed with amazing power and precision … The estimated time taken from entering the harbour to leaving with both tows was thirty-five minutes …
25

The severing of the anchor chain after the explosives’ misfire had been
the
critical movement in the cutting-out of the
Duchessa
. Appleyard, once again, had proved his mettle. After successfully attempting that 8-foot leap across the widening gulf between
Vulcan
and
Duchessa
– a feat attempted by no one else that night – he had, by his quick thinking, risen to match his moment. His actions that night – and, indeed, throughout the entire
Postmaster
operation – would win him his second Military Cross, the citation of which concluded: ‘These operations were performed with complete disregard of his own personal safety, and the cutting out of the liner was ensured [sic]’