DESTROYER, continued.

09/04/1940

The crew of a Norwegian Whaler sat around their evening mess. The great southern ocean rolled gently around them. They had brought in a whale yesterday, so spirits were high despite the bitter cold. Their meal of corned beef and biscuits was almost finished, they sipped their rum and listened to the radio.

Suddenly, they fell silent, every ear strained to the crackling radio.

“Did you hear that, lads ?’ the Captain asked. ‘Sounds like it’s time to go home.’

‘Too bloody right,’ First Mate Jonahson nodded.

By the time they made it back to Europe, the hopelessly out gunned British force had been driven out of Norway, and their homeland was under Nazi occupation. The crew docked in Liverpool and volunteered for the British Navy immediately.

After being rushed through basic training, Jonahson found himself serving as Seaman on the Destroyer HMS Hardy, escorting convoys across the atlantic.

03/01/1941

Freezing under his oilskins and duffel coat, Jonahson stood on the forecastle, scanning the dark skies. The sea was calm, perfect for a U-Boat attack.The stars gleamed in the endless sky and the wind blew bitterly. His night watch was almost over. He lowered his binoculars from his strained, raw eyes and tried to blink the sleep away. He stamped some warmth into his huge, damp boots, then ran a dirty hand through his beard. He scanned the horizon, nothing but the Cruiser and Merchant Ships in front and vast open sea behind. Then he heard them coming.

“All hands on deck!’

The darkness erupted into a stamping on running boots, the roar of engines and a rattle of gunfire. Hell was raining down from the sky.

There was a time of blood and fire, air and water and red hot metal.

When it was over, Jonah was sat at the trigger of the front heavy machine gun, it’s crew a bloody pulp around him. He gripped that gun for dear life, blood and sweat ran down his face.

The mast had fallen and the wheel house was on fire. Bodies floated on the waves amongst pools of burning fuel and wreckage.

“All hands on the Iron Deck,’ he heard, and obeyed.

‘All the bloody officers and dead,’ Seaman Jones stated.

‘Not quite,’ Johanson grunted.