Diving Stations

SIX

The two capital ships swinging gently at their moorings in the center of the anchorage dominated the dockyard, and dwarfed the slim destroyers grouped astern. They were the largest warships Singapore had seen for more than a decade and their massive presence fulfilled the solemn promise of successive British Governments, that the Royal Navy would throw its protective shield around the Malayan Peninsula if war ever threatened to engulf the Far East.

When the news first reached the city on 2 December, excited crowds had thronged the shore to witness their arrival. Even now, five days later, these great grey symbols of Britain’s sea power continued to attract attention.

Captain Gerald Edwards, Deputy Assistant Chief of Staff to Vice Admiral Sir Geoffrey Layton, C-in-C China, stared down at the two ships from the window of his office overlooking the harbor and considered the future. The arrival of Admiral Phillip’s Force Z was going to put him out of a job. The admiral had already been appointed to succeed Layton as C-in-C Eastern Fleet and, naturally, he would put his own men into the key staff positions. And in a few day’s time Edwards would be returning home. He wondered whether he would have time to see his younger brother, who was serving as a junior gunnery lieutenant on Repulse, but decided it was an unlikely possibility. As soon as Phillips returned from his conference with the US Fleet commander in Manilla, it seemed probable that the battle cruiser and her consort, Prince of Wales, would sail immediately. Edwards had already seen a copy of Churchill’s telegram ordering Phillips to sea to ‘disconcert the Japanese and at the same time increase the security of the force’ and he knew that the new C-in-C would be anxious to carry out the Prime Minister’s command.

It was hardly surprising that Churchill was concerned for the security of Force Z. No doubt Admiral Phillips entertained similar fears. And if he did, who could blame him? Without an aircraft carrier, Force Z was as helpless as a rabbit in a tank of piranha fish◦– and the end was likely to be equally bloody. Only a politician could be guilty of such gross stupidity. Admittedly the armored carrier Indomitable had originally been assigned to Phillips’ command. But she had run aground in the West Indies and the admiral’s two capital ships had been told to sail east without her. If the politicians had not been running the show there was little doubt in Edwards’ mind that the task force would have been recalled until adequate air cover could be provided. But Churchill refused. Prince of Wales and Repulse were to be the great deterrent to Japan’s grandiose plan to seize Malaya and to conquer the whole of SouthEast Asia. There would be no need to fight◦– their mere presence in the Far East would be sufficient….

A sharp knock on the door broke the captain’s train of thought. Turning away from the window he walked to his desk as the flag lieutenant entered.

‘Message from the AOC, sir. Most immediate.’

Edwards took the slip, put on his horn-rimmed glasses and read the brief text of Pulford’s signal. He nodded. ‘This confirms the intelligence reports we received earlier,’ he told Jameson. ‘I’d been wondering why Palliser recalled Repulse from her Australian trip. Looks as though the balloon’s about to go up.’

The flag lieutenant glanced down at the signal to refresh his memory. ‘It doesn’t follow that the Japs are heading for Malaya, sir,’ he pointed out. ‘The air reconnaissance reports only confirm two convoys steaming west◦– they could be making for Siam.’

‘They could be◦– but I very much doubt it,’ Edwards paused and looked out of the window at the two great warships in the harbor. He wondered what use such antediluvian monsters would be against Rear Admiral Matsunaga’s 22nd Air Flotilla. And he suddenly remembered his brother telling him that Prince of Wales had never fired her AA armament in anger since she had been commissioned. He shrugged. They were likely to get plenty of practice shortly.

‘Is Layton still C-in-C?’ he asked.

‘Yes, sir. I understand that Admiral Phillips takes over tomorrow morning when he returns from Manilla.’

‘Any alterations to the dispositions since yesterday’s conference?’

‘Nothing immediately affecting Singapore, sir. But the destroyers Thanet and Scout are to be ordered to leave Hong Kong and return here. And I believe Rapier has also been recalled.’

Captain Edwards chuckled. ‘I can see the C-in-C’s hand in that one, Flags. He’s an old submariner himself. We’ve only one submarine operating in the whole of the Far East and he obviously intends to keep an eye on it. Mind you he’s probably right. Rapier will be a darn sight more use patrolling the Gulf of Siam than she will be defending Hong Kong.’

Captain Snark made no effort to hide his satisfaction when he read Layton’s recall signal. Hamilton had been a thorn in his side from the day of his arrival in Hong Kong and, since the incident in Hai-An Bay, their mutual antagonism had been paraded quite openly. Snark was one of the old school◦– a disciplinarian who believed in complete obedience to orders no matter how unpalatable they might be. Like most officers of his generation he was a born fighter. And the strain of suppressing his natural instincts and being forced to kow-tow to the Japanese for the past three years had warped his judgement and soured his brain.

Blessed with very little tact and absolutely no imagination he was unable to understand the subtlety of Hamilton’s reasons for saving the Japanese destroyer. Had Rapier’s skipper been under orders to rescue Suma, Snark would have endorsed every action he had taken. But to undertake the salvage of a Japanese warship when he was under no obligation◦– and when his orders only required him to obtain Ottershaw’s release◦– was, in Snark’s eyes, little short of treason.

That his antagonism towards the submarine captain was due to his own subconscious resentment of their two different roles never entered his head. Snark wanted to be in the fight as well◦– most of his contemporaries were commanding Escort Groups in the North Atlantic◦– but, instead, he was desk-bound in China and charged with the humiliating task of pacifying the Japanese no matter what the provocation. And yet Hamilton, a man promoted from the lower deck and who lacked the background and training of the traditional officer-class, had been in combat operations since the beginning of the war. And, in Snark’s view, it just wasn’t fair.

Hamilton knocked on the cabin door, entered, and saluted respectfully. Despite his outward self-confidence he wondered what the hell Snark wanted this time. The old fool had never forgiven him for the Suma episode. The psychological game of ‘face’ was a conception beyond the limits of the narrow world in which he lived. He could not grasp that the Royal Navy had secured a normal victory over the Japanese that more than compensated for its recent humiliations.

Snark looked up at Rapier’s commander but said nothing. Let the bugger sweat, he thought to himself. His finger’s toyed with Layton’s signal for a few moments and then he put it down on the desk.

‘If I remember correctly, Lieutenant,’ he said finally, ‘you expressed a wish to leave Hong Kong on the very day you arrived.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Hamilton agreed. ‘I believe I did at the time.’

‘Do you still want to go?’

‘No, sir. I have a feeling something is going to blow up this weekend. I’ve heard reports of Japanese convoys moving into the gulf of Siam, and Macao is full of rumors. I reckon there’s something in the wind and I’d hate to miss it.’

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant.’ Snark’s tone of voice belied the spoke sentiment. ‘The C-in-C has ordered your immediate recall to Singapore.’

Hamilton had no intention of giving Snark the satisfaction of seeing that he was in any way upset by the decision. He nodded and smiled. ‘So my guess seems to have been correct, sir. The Admiral obviously thinks the convoys are heading for Malaya and he needs a submarine across the enemy’s lines of communication.’ He carefully picked on Snark’s weak point and twisted the knife. ‘It looks as if the war has passed you by again, sir. I’ll probably be in action again in a few days while you’ll still be….’

Snark beat him to it…. sitting on my arse in a bloody office! ‘Well don’t be so damned sure about that, Lieutenant. If the Japanese attack Malaya you don’t expect them to ignore Hong Kong do you? And when they come I’ll show you young whipper-snappers how to fight.’ The mere thought of the coming battle was sufficient to bring a flush to his pallid cheeks and, for the first time since they had met, Hamilton actually saw him smile.

Despite their deep-seated antagonism Hamilton felt suddenly sorry for the lonely, passed-over staff officer, even though he was not yet prepared to express his sympathy openly.

‘If Rapier is being withdrawn and two of the destroyers recalled to Singapore it doesn’t look as though they intend to leave you anything to fight with, sir.’

Snark snorted. ‘That’s the trouble with your generation, Lieutenant◦– always concerned with materials. Well, I shall do my bit even if it means sitting in a sampan holding a Lee Enfield!’

Hamilton could not restrain a small smile at the thought of Snark sitting alone in a small boat with a rifle across his knees and defying the entire Japanese Navy to cross the straits. And yet, somehow, he knew it was no idle boast. The old Navy man had been brought up the hard way and it was just the sort of thing Snark would do.

‘The C-in-C wants you back urgently,’ Snark pointed out as he reluctantly dragged himself away from his vision of glory. ‘How soon can you leave?’

‘Within two hours, sir. Rapier has already shipped a full outfit of torpedos and we topped up our bunkers this morning. I’ve kept her at maximum combat readiness all the time we’ve been here.’

‘You’ve certainly been taking on enough stores to last two ships for about six months,’ Snark observed drily. He held up his hand as Hamilton prepared to launch into his excuses. ‘No◦– don’t say anything. It would be improper to lie to your superior officer.’ He smiled conspiratorially. ‘I’m quite sure you are not engaged in smuggling or similar nefarious activities◦– we leave that sort of thing to the local police. But I share your view◦– if Hong Kong falls to the Japanese it would indeed be prudent to have some stores hidden elsewhere for you to fall back on if necessary.’

You crafty old bastard, thought Hamilton. All this time I’ve been taking you for a fool and yet you knew what I was up to. He could not help wondering just how much the captain did know.

Snark stood up. He looked at Hamilton with steady eyes. ‘Don’t worry, Lieutenant. I’d prefer not to know your secrets.’ He thrust out his hand and Hamilton grasped it firmly. ‘Well, good luck. I wonder which of us will get the first Jap?’

Hamilton grinned. ‘You’ll have to get your skates on, sir. If my arithmetic is correct I’m already leading you five to nothing!’

The roar of the Hurricane fighter, taking off from Kai Tak across the Straits in the New Territories, echoed back from the hills. Hamilton looked up as it skimmed low across the Peak towards Deep Water Bay to begin the first leg of its patrol. As he crossed the road to the waiting staff car he glanced back at Tamar. The old hulk, now flying the broad pendant of Commodore Collison, the SNO Hong Kong, had been moored against the stone wall of the dockyard since 1895◦– a symbol of the British Empire’s steadfast immovability. He wondered how many more days she would remain there to enjoy her fading glory.

‘Get back to Rapier,’ he told Hardacre briefly as the driver thrust his head through the open window. ‘Tell Lieutenant Mannon we sail at 1900 hours. I’ll be back on board in about an hour◦– I’ve got a couple of matters to attend to ashore!’

I bet you have, Hardacre grinned to himself as he acknowledged the instructions. Like that little Chinese popsy. Despite Hamilton’s attempts at discretion, most of Rapier’s crew knew about the ferry trips to Macao. Trust the skipper to find a snug berth. He put the old Austin into gear, let in the clutch, and swung out into the traffic stream. Hamilton watched the seaman drive off in the direction of the dockyard and then started walking towards the Officer’s Club.

He was not altogether pleased to encounter Ottershaw in the entrance hall. There were a number of urgent matters to attend to before Rapier sailed and he had no time to spare for social chit-chat. However, the gunboat skipper insisted on stopping him as he tried to hurry past.

‘I hear you’re another of the rats leaving the sinking ship.’ Ottershaw’s broad grin removed any possibility of offence in his choice of phrase and he clearly regarded it as a good joke.

‘Word seems to get around quickly,’ Hamilton said shortly, taking care to neither confirm nor deny the rumor.

‘You can’t be stationed in Hong Kong for eighteen months without learning a few things.’ Ottershaw explained. ‘Come on into the bar for a farewell snifter.’

Hamilton shook his head. ‘Sorry, Harry, but I want to keep a clear head over the next couple of hours. Next time, perhaps.’

‘I doubt if there’ll be a next time, Nick,’ Ottershaw’s expression was suddenly serious. ‘They’re stripping the Colony bare. The only reason they haven’t recalled Pears is because his boat’s in dry dock at Taiko. Once they’ve finished cleaning her bottom she’ll be on her way to Singapore like the rest. Then all we’re left with are five gunboats and the MTB flotilla. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so damned serious.’

‘I suppose they think it’s the Army’s responsibility,’ Hamilton suggested. ‘The Navy can’t stop the Japs coming over the border and seizing the New Territories.’

‘OK, then, it’s an Army job. So why do we only have six battalions of troops available when we all know the Japs have deployed three full divisions along the border?’

‘I really couldn’t say, Harry. I’m not one of the top brass. Perhaps they intend to send Repulse and Prince of Wales up in support. Or maybe the US Fleet at Manilla.’ He patted Ottershaw on the shoulder. ‘Look, old man, it hasn’t happened yet. Now that Tom Phillips has taken over he’s bound to start reorganizing things the way he wants them – that’s what has triggered off the rumors.’ Hamilton did not mention that his own recall orders had come from Layton and not Phillips. He did not believe in giving gratuitous information to anyone – not even a fellow officer. ‘So stop worrying about it. And now I’m sorry to rush away, Harry, but I must make some phone calls before I go—’

The telephone booth at the end of the corridor was empty and, picking up the instrument, Hamilton asked the operator for a Macao number. He waited impatiently for the connection. A girl answered.

‘Put me through to Senor Alburra, please.’

‘Sorry, sir, Mister Alburra not here. You speak Miss Chen?’

Hamilton swore to himself. Alburra would have understood the meaning behind his cryptic call and asked no questions. But Chen had a more personal◦– one could say intimate◦– interest in him. Evasive answers would only make her suspicious. He waited for her to come on the line.

‘Hello, darling. This is Nick. I’m afraid there’s a bit of a flap on. I can’t say too much on the phone. Will you tell your father that although he may have heard about me leaving Hong Kong for a while I want our arrangements to stand.’

‘Are you going away, Nicky?’

‘Perhaps◦– I don’t know. I have to do as I’m told. But I promise I’ll be back. So don’t go worrying your head about it. Now, can you remember the message for your father – it’s extremely important.’

‘I will tell him this evening. My father and I have no secrets. I know all about your arrangements with him.’ She paused for a moment. ‘But if you do not want the plans altered you will not be far away?’

‘It all depends on what happens,’ Hamilton told her enigmatically. ‘But I promise to get in touch as soon as I can. ’Bye for now, darling.’

He replaced the receiver before Chai Chen could reply. It was an unfortunate complication. Hamilton preferred to keep his women entirely separate from service affairs. But, if Alburra had chosen to tell his daughter, there was nothing he could do about it. He could only pray that she would know when to keep her mouth shut.

‘Hands are at Harbor Stations, sir,’ Mannon reported as Hamilton joined him on the bridge. ‘Motors ready and grouped down.’

The first lights were already beginning to twinkle from the windows of the hotels nestling under the shadow of Victoria Peak and Hamilton could see the sailors on board the other warships anchored in the harbor assembling on deck for the time-honored ceremony of hauling down the colors at sunset. On the opposite side of the Straits, the reflections from the lights of Kowloon shimmered on the water like glittering diamonds scattered on a black velvet cloak. He paused to watch a train steaming slowly northwards towards Shatin and the mainland border. He glanced at his watch. It was exactly 7 p.m. He leaned over the voice pipe.

‘Obey telegraphs.’ He waited for the acknowledgement and then nodded his head to Mannon. ‘Let go the springs, Number One.’

‘Let go for’ard! Let go after spring!’

Hamilton heard the wires being hauled inboard by the sea duty men. ‘Let go after-breast◦– let go for’ard!’

Mannon peered over the side of the conning tower. ‘All gone aft, sir. All gone for’ard.’

‘Half astern port. Helm starboard thirty.’ The telegraph repeater bell tinkled in the motor room and Hamilton waited as Rapier backed cautiously away from the weed-encrusted stonework of the dockyard jetty. ‘Stop port! Half ahead starboard. Port thirty, Cox’n. Half astern port.’

A yellow froth boiled from under the submarine’s stern, as the propellers disturbed the mud on the harbor bottom and Rapier swung in a tight half-circle. Hamilton kept his eyes firmly fixed on the two beacons marking the dockyard’s narrow exit.

‘Stop port◦– stop starboard! Half ahead both. Midships helm. Steady as she goes, Mister Blood.’

The darkened submarine glided past Scout and Thanet at their mooring buoys, but the men on board the destroyers were too busy preparing for their own departure to take notice of Rapier. Leaning his elbows on the coaming, Hamilton carefully noted every detail of the familiar Hong Kong scene as the submarine swept out to sea: Circala tied up against the north wall of the dockyard, the diminutive Robin guarding the boom across the Tathong Channel at the eastern end of the harbor and, in the distance, silhouetted against the looming shadow of Victoria Island, the gunboat Moth marooned high and dry on blocks in the graving dock. He remained where he was, staring at the assembled warships, until they were safely in mid-channel and then moved back to the voice pipe.

‘Stop both motors. Stand by to start engines.’

‘Switches off! Engaged port and starboard clutches!’ Black oil smoke blasted from the exhaust trunks abaft the conning tower, as the diesel engines rumbled to life.

‘Both clutches engaged, sir. Engines ready and standing by.’

‘Half-ahead together. Course two-six-zero, Cox’n.’ Hamilton stepped back from the voice pipe and glanced quickly around the horizon to check for other shipping. He turned to Mannon. ‘You can fall the men out from Harbor Stations, Number One.’

‘Fall out Harbor Stations! Control Room◦– stand by to take over lower steering. Duty Watch to passage routine.’ Hamilton leaned against the periscope standard and lit a cigarette as he watched the fo’c’sle party make their way below through the gun hatch. ‘I’ll finish the first Dog Watch, Number One,’ he told Mannon. ‘You take the second and I’ll give Alistair the middle. I’ll work out a proper routine in the meantime.’ He threw the cigarette over the side. ‘Once we’re clear of Lantau Island I intend to hold south on the surface at ten knots. That should bring us about halfway to Helen Shoals by dawn.’

‘Are we making for Charlotte Island, sir?’

Hamilton shook his head. ‘I wish we were, Number One. But it’s beginning to look as if we’ve been wasting our time. We’ve been recalled to Singapore.’

‘What the hell for?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine. But I know one thing,’ Hamilton added bitterly. ‘This was the first time I’ve ever tried my hand at forward planning◦– and it’ll be the last. Next time I play it by ear.’

Mannon nodded sympathetically. They had all, from the skipper down to the most junior rating, worked like galley slaves to set up the secret base on the island and now, on the whim of an admiral thousands of miles away, all their efforts had been reduced to nothing. Not that Mannon had ever been completely happy about the scheme. The lack of oil storage facilities on the island had worried him. But whenever he queried the matter of fuel reserves with Hamilton his questions were never answered, although the skipper’s smile suggested he had something up his sleeve. That was at least one problem they would not have to face if they were operating out of Singapore. But, even so, he could understand Hamilton’s disappointment.

‘I suppose I ought to be getting below, sir. I’ll see if I can get Monty to rustle up some food before I start my watch.’

‘Good idea, Number One. Ask him to have something ready for me when I come down. And tell Alistair I want to see him in the wardroom at four bells.’

He looked up at the sky. Night descended quickly in the tropics and the stars were already twinkling brightly in the black vaults of the heavens. A single searchlight, probably from the Tern patrolling off Castle Peak Bay, swept the northern horizon with monotonous regularity and, to the north-east, the gaudy lights of Hong Kong glowed red against the dark backcloth of the New Territories.

He could not help wondering how much longer the Colony had to enjoy its peaceful tranquility.

Hamilton stirred restlessly on the narrow bunk. After the cool chill of the air on deck, the interior of the submarine was unpleasantly stuffy and he was finding it difficult to sleep. The deck head fan made little impression on the turgid atmosphere and the wardroom reeked with the smell of stale human sweat.

Mannon was sitting on the settee looking at an old magazine and the dim glow of the reading-lamp was an irritating distraction which Hamilton could have well done without.

Damn the bloody C-in-C! Why the hell did he have to recall Rapier just when things were beginning to look interesting? And, he reminded himself, it wasn’t just pique at being deprived of his private hideaway and the cache of stores he had so carefully laid up in readiness for just such an emergency. He was quite prepared to admit that the secret base had been a crazy idea from the start◦– the sort of thing the hero did in a kid’s story book.

He rolled over and tried to sleep, but his brain refused to switch off and, to add to the agonies of insomnia, tiny drops of condensation from the deck head over the bunk dripped on his face with the relentless regularity of a primitive Chinese torture….

‘Sir! Wake up, sir!’

Hamilton couldn’t believe that he’d really been asleep, but apparently he had. His eyes opened and he was fully awake in an instant.

‘Murray’s picked up a broadcast from Singapore radio, sir,’ Mannon said excitedly. ‘The Japs are landing at Kota Bharu.’

Hamilton swung his legs out of the bunk and pushed his feet into the pair of plimsolls Monty had left in readiness. ‘Where the hell’s Kota Bharu, Number One!’ he grumbled irritably.

‘East coast of Malaya, sir◦– up near the Siam border.’

‘Is it, by God! It looks as though my hunch was right after all. Perhaps Layton knew what he was doing when he recalled us.’

He made his way through the bulkhead hatch into the control room. He had no doubts that the entire ship’s company had heard the news by now, but the men on duty gave no hint of excitement or curiosity when he appeared. They knew the skipper would tell them what he intended to do in his own good time. And, in the meantime, discipline demanded that they carried out their duties without question.

The radio compartment was situated aft of the control room and Hamilton glanced up at the clock as he entered. It was 3.55 a.m.

‘What’s this report you say you’ve picked up?’ he asked the operator brusquely.

Murray slipped off his headset and put it down on the bench alongside the radio. ‘I was searching around the medium band about five minutes ago, sir.’ He looked a little sheepish. ‘To be honest I was trying to find some late night dance music. And someone suddenly broke into the programme to say the Japs were landing.’

‘Where was this◦– Singapore?’

‘No, sir,’ Murray picked up a small book and pointed his finger to the top of the opened page. ‘According to the station call-sign it was Kuala Lumpur.’

‘Tune into Singapore and see what you get.’

Murray obediently twiddled the knobs and through the crackle Hamilton could hear the measured tones of the station announcer repeating instructions to the civilian population regarding blackout regulations and air raid precautions. After a few minutes, he repeated the initial news reports of the Japanese landings in the north.

Hamilton glanced at Mannon. ‘Sounds genuine enough and if Murray’s already heard similar reports from KL I’d say we’d got all the confirmation we need.’

‘Shall I call up Singapore base, sir?’ Murray asked.

‘No! Maintain strict radio silence until we know what the situation is. Keep tuned to the Admiralty transmitting station and send me a resume of the signals every fifteen minutes. But call me if you hear something urgent.’ He turned to Mannon. ‘Alistair is due off watch in a couple of minutes, Number One. Get up on the bridge and take over. I want to discuss our course with him. I’ll be up to relieve you as soon as we’ve worked something out. Then you get some shut-eye. We could have a busy day on our hands tomorrow.’

Back in the control room, Hamilton opened the small scale map of the South-East Asia area and stared down at it. Kota Bharu was approximately fourteen hundred miles away and Singapore seemed even further. Running at ten knots to conserve fuel, Rapier could not possibly arrive off the Malayan coast for at least five days and, even if he gambled on the oil supplies and steamed at maximum speed, it would take all of seventy-two hours to cover the distance. If only Layton had recalled them earlier. The presence of the two Japanese invasion convoys must have been known to the Singapore staff for some time. Surely someone could have made an intelligent guess!

He looked round as Scott came down from the bridge to join him and he moved to one side so that Rapier’s navigator could see the chart.

‘Shall I lay off a course for the Malayan coast, sir?’ Scott asked. ‘Or should we move up into the Gulf of Siam so that we’re across their lines of communication?’

Hamilton stared at the map thoughtfully. Scott’s suggestion of turning north into the Gulf of Siam was good◦– but until they had cleared the Indo-China coast they would have to continue westward. If they tried to reduce the distance by closing the coast and cutting towards the Mekong delta, they stood a good chance of being hunted by Vichy French patrols operating out of Saigon. No◦– far better to hold well to the south of Indo-China. The decision to move north could be made when the battle situation was clearer. And that could be another seventy-two hours.

‘I’ll decide our patrol area later, Pilot. Meanwhile, I want you to give me a course for the invasion area following a line about two hundred miles to the south of the Mekong.’ Leaving Scott to carry out his instructions, Hamilton made his way back to the bridge to tell Mannon what he had decided. The night was still fine and the sea smooth. A phosphorescent glow from the bows was a silent reminder that Rapier was in the tropics.

‘Is it Malaya, sir?’ Mannon asked.

‘At the moment, yes. But it’s my guess the Japs will move into Hong Kong fairly soon. It would be the logical thing to do now that they’ve shown their hand.

‘And if they do?’

‘I’d be inclined to turn back.’

Mannon raised his glasses and surveyed the horizon in silence for a few moments. It wasn’t his place to remind the skipper that they were under the C-in-C’s personal orders to return to Singapore. But Hamilton was right in one respect◦– if they returned to Hong Kong immediately they would be in time to strike the enemy during the critical initial stages of the attack. It made more sense that arriving at Kota Bharu several days too late.

‘It’s a pity we can’t call on the Yanks to help us out◦– their Pacific Fleet would make mincemeat of the Japs.’

‘I wouldn’t underestimate the enemy, Number One. Even the Americans could have a fight on their hands. But, to be honest, I can’t see Japan taking on the United States at this juncture. Once they’ve disposed of us, and perhaps the Dutch, and secured their oil supplies from the East Indies, they might attack the Philippines. But I doubt it. Tokyo knows it can’t defeat America so why invite a hiding for nothing?’

As Hamilton picked up his binoculars and examined the dark rim of the starboard horizon, he was unaware that five thousand miles away, Admiral Nagumo’s carrier strike force was treacherously closing in on its unsuspecting target.

In less than four hours, a sequence of tragic events were to prove the fallacy of his misplaced optimism….

As eight bells signaled the end of the morning watch, Rapier’s officers assembled in the overcrowded wardroom for Hamilton’s council-of-war. Only Villiers, the new fourth hand, who had joined the boat at the last minute after Bruce had gone down with malaria, was missing. And at that precise moment, he was standing nervously on the bridge discovering the awesome responsibilities of watch-keeping under the benevolently paternal eye of Coxswain Blood.

Despite his natural misgivings about the new sub-lieutenant’s lack of experience, Hamilton had been forced to throw the young reservist in at the deep end so that all of the submarine’s regular officers could attend the meeting. Not that he was seeking their approval of his proposed course of action. But if he was going to disobey orders, he at least wanted them to understand his reasons.

‘We have received no further reports of any significance during the morning,’ he told them briefly. ‘The Japanese are apparently well ashore in the Kota Bharu area and are enlarging their bridgehead. From the signals we’ve picked up they appear to have seized a number of advanced airfields.’ He turned to a large chart of South-East Asia which was hanging by a piece of string from a convenient deck head pipe. ‘It’s only guesswork, but it seems the Japs are using French Indo-China as their staging post for the invasion. With Vichy approval no doubt,’ he added bitterly.

Mannon stared at the map. ‘It seems a bit odd they’re only attacking Malaya, sir,’ he said voicing his doubts. ‘The RAF reconnaissance reports indicated only a small escort force with the troop convoys◦– where’s the rest of the Japanese Navy?’

‘A good question, Number One. I’ve been asking myself the same thing.’

‘Well, we’ve got plenty of options,’ Scott broke in cheerfully. ‘They could be going for the Dutch Indies or even Australia. If you want my opinion, sir, we ought to head for Singapore◦– then we can move in whichever direction is needed. If we go north to Kota Bharu, we’ll be too far away to be of any use to anyone. After all, the Malayan landings could be purely diversionary.’

A similar thought had crossed Hamilton’s mind. He looked at O’Brien, the submarine’s engineering officer. ‘Any ideas, Sean?’

‘Well, so long as they’re not heading for Belfast I’m not especially bothered. But whatever they’re doing I’d be after thinking they’re up to no good.’

Hamilton grinned. He was about to say something when the wardroom curtain was suddenly pushed aside and Jamieson, the wireless room runner, entered breathlessly and snapped to attention.

‘What is it, Jamieson?’

‘Message from the Leading telegraphist, Murray, sir. The Japs have started bombing Hong Kong, sir. And some other places. He says all hell’s been let loose, sir.’

‘Thank you, Jamieson. Tell Murray I’ll be along to the Radio Room in a few moments.’ Despite the atmosphere of electric excitement which the news had created in the wardroom, Hamilton seemed totally unflustered. ‘I think we should adjourn our meeting until I have clarified the situation, gentlemen,’ he told the others calmly. ‘You’d better go up and keep an eye on young Villiers, Alistair. He’s probably hiding in a corner being sick.’

‘Very good, sir.’

‘And remember◦– any vessel flying the Japanese flag is to be regarded as hostile. However, no attacks are to be carried out until we receive confirmation from Singapore.’

‘Will you be needing me, sir?’ O’Brien asked.

‘Not for the moment, but we’re short-handed so I’ll probably have to rope you in for some watch keeping. You’d best get some sleep while you can. I shall want you in the Radio Room with me, Number One. I may need a second opinion.’

Murray was busy with his receiving equipment as Mannon and the skipper squeezed into the tiny cupboard that did duty as Rapier’s radio room. He turned in his chair, but kept one pad of the headset pressed against his ear.

‘What’s the scare, Sparks,’ Hamilton asked.

‘Japanese aircraft are bombing Hong Kong, sir. And there’s been a raid on Singapore,’ Murray leaned forward, took a pink signal slip from the pad alongside the main transmitter, and handed it to the captain. ‘This came through about two minutes ago, sir.’

Hamilton glanced down at the message. It was brief and to the point: ‘From C-in-C Eastern Fleet to all ships. Commence hostilities against Japan’.

He passed it to Mannon without comment. ‘Have you verified the source?’ he asked Murray.

‘Yes, sir. It’s definitely genuine.’

‘And those other reports◦– where did you get them from?’

‘I picked up the Singapore raid from general traffic, sir. There was a hell of a flap on. Mostly plain language transmissions. I got the second on the other set◦– news announcements on Hong Kong Radio.’ Murray paused for a moment. ‘Every station in the Far East seems to be transmitting, sir. It’s bloody chaos. I’ve been picking up several reports about an attack on a place called Pearl Harbor – but there’s so much going on it’s difficult to sort out the facts.’

Hamilton looked up sharply. The name obviously meant nothing to Murray, but Pearl Harbor was the main base of the US Pacific Fleet in Hawaii. No wonder everyone was in a panic.

‘Can you pick up any of the Australian stations?’

‘I doubt it, sir. The Aussies mostly use low-power local transmitters. I think I could get Saigon radio◦– but they’ll be broadcasting in French.’

‘I can speak French,’ Mannon said quietly.

Hamilton nodded. ‘See if you can find Saigon, Sparks.’ He thrust his head out of the compartment as Murray began turning the dials. ‘Jamieson! Tell Kingham to report here at the double!’

‘Aye aye, sir.’

Hamilton turned back into the compartment. The second operator would be able to listen out on the main communications channel for instructions, while Murray was busy making his way around the dial searching for news from the civil stations. A crackle of atmospherics spat from the loudspeaker above the main receiver and the voice of a French newscaster was gradually distilled from the noise, as Murray twiddled the fine tuner. Mannon listened intently, while Hamilton idly leafed through the wireless signals received during the morning. He could pick out odd words like ‘Washington’ and ‘Roosevelt’ but the rest meant nothing and he waited a trifle impatiently.

‘Got enough yet, Number One?’

‘I think so, sir. Japanese carrier aircraft and midget submarines hit Pearl Harbor at dawn. They caught the Yanks by surprise. According to Saigon◦– and their reports are based on American news agency wires◦– the entire US Pacific Fleet has been destroyed!’

‘Bloody Hell!’

‘There’ll be bloody hell for you, Murray, if you don’t concentrate on your job,’ Hamilton snapped curtly. ‘You are not to repeat what you have just heard to anyone◦– understand? I will tell the ship’s company in my own good time. Meanwhile, stay tuned to Singapore and send all signals to me personally.’

‘I suppose we ought to call up Singapore and ask for fresh orders, sir.’ Mannon suggested diffidently.

‘Well, you suppose wrong, Number One. To hell with bloody orders◦– I’m making my own decisions from now on.’ Hamilton glanced sternly at the radio operator. ‘And remember, Murray, you didn’t hear that either.’