The Atlantic Express
by: justjames17
(© 2004 -2007 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...
 

Chapter 62
Kokoda Pt 5

The small convoy cleaved its way across the blue sea Fox Hound in the lead & Stuart trailing behind the small cargo ships, their straining overworked engines puffing clouds of black smoke from their tall funnels. Charles raised his eyes to the heavens as he saw the long dark stain trailing out behind the convoy, it signalled their presence for miles to any enemy eyes. He didn't realise the enemy already was crouched ahead waiting for them the Foxhound in the cross hairs just waiting for the range to close. The enemy captain was planning on sinking the escorts then he would surface and shell the two cargo ships with his deck gun, saving his torpedos.

The convoy steamed on while the destroyers' asdics pinged searching the depths, the sub was outside the range of these electronic pulses as he watched the ships through his periscope. The skipper's black eyes glistened with the light transmitted through the lenses as he watched hungrily the lead destroyer nearing the firing zone. He barked orders to the crew and the men eagerly obeyed opening the tubes in readiness to fire, he barked, "Fire one." Then a pause before he ordered the second torpedo launched.

He watched the tracks speed away as the first officer counted down the time, the submarine was up sun from the convoy and the glare on the water hid the two white tracks racing towards Fox Hound. It was too late when the lookout spotted the two wakes racing at the destroyer, he called to Charles who ordered the wheel hard over and full speed ahead as Fox Hounds siren whooped and wailed out a warning. The first torpedo hit the forward section under A gun, the ship lifted from the water as the column of spray rose high, she settled back in time to take the second blow in her midships opening the engine room to the sea.

The ship slowed quickly and began to settle bows down as the steam roared from the funnels, the engineers venting the boilers I case of explosion as the cooler sea water reached them, the few who survived the initial explosion were battered of their feet by the surging water. Their bodies tossed like tooth pics as the ship settled deeper, on the bridge the men scrambled to their feet as Charles cap lost and head streaming blood bellowed for the boats to be lowered. Astern of the convoy HMAS Stuart increased speed and began hunting the marauder, her sharp bow knifing through the calm sea tossing high bow waves as she sped along. The submarine realised he'd missed the annihilation of the escorts skulked away sinking into the deep darkness, running fast away from the firing point.

The Fox Hound's foredeck now awash to B gun her stern rose from the sea her rudder and propellers exposed as she wallowed like a drunken sow. Her boats were launched with great difficulty due to her angle; carley floats cast adrift and her crew leaping into the sea as the sound of heavy equipment crashed about below deck filled their ears. The freighters steamed past on both sides fleeing for the horizon, leaving Fox Hound to her fate and Stuart hunting the submarine. The last the transport ship, Taroona passed Fox hound then turned back and steamed alongside, her captain calling through the loud hailer, "Captain get your men into the boats we will pick you all up but please hurry."

Charles bellowed, "Abandon ship lads, smack it about and get into the boats and on the rafts so you can be rescued."

He hurried into the chart room and grabbed the code books and vital paperwork stuffing it all into the weighted bag then fastened the flap and hurried to the bridge wing heaving the bag overboard and watched it splash down in the oil coated water and sink from view. The swimmers scrambled aboard the bobbing carley floats and were hauled over the gunnels of the ship's boats, Charles ensured no living crew were still on the deck before he dived over the side swimming through the filthy muck pouring from the ship's destroyed fuel tanks. The stinging oil permeated in his mouth, nose and eyes even though he tried to keep his face above the water as he swam towards the nearest boat; the steamer was stopped nearby picking up those that had reached her tall sides they clung to and climbed up the cargo nets hung over the side.

The men aboard the boat dragged Charles coughing and retching into the boat and those manning the oars gave way pulling hard towards the waiting transport ship. They hauled alongside lifting the oars out of the way as the boat bumped and ground along the steel hull, men grabbed onto the oily net and held the boat in position. The sodden oil coated men climbed laboriously up the heavy netting, to fall over the railing onto the teak deck of the ship, Charles scrambled up the net and stayed on his feet as he slipped over the rail and stood there in his socks, his shoes cast off before he dived into the sea. The dull booms of depth charges resonated through the water as Stuart tried to destroy the submarine in the distance, the other fleeing ships were small specks on the horizon as the steamer's engines began to turn over again and she slowly gathered way turning back on course for Port Moresby.

As she steamed away from the stricken destroyer her crew watched as Fox Hound stood vertically, her hull trembled and she slid almost soundlessly under the surface leaving the surface boiling as air escaped her plummeting hull. The surface a kaleidoscope of viscous colours as her lifeblood of oil spread out over the calm sea dotted with flotsam and rubbish. Charles was asked to join the captain on the bridge, which he did, his white uniform a sad and sorry mess, filthy with oil.

The captain of the S.S. Taroona, a gruff old sea dog named Perkins puffed on a smelly old briar pipe greeted Charles with an outstretched calloused hand and shook the Englishman's hand, "Damn bad luck captain losing your ship like that, you hadn't a hope in hell of avoiding those tin fish."

Charles thanked the grizzled old man profusely for standing by and risking his ship and crew to save his men and saw the pain and understanding in the old man's eyes, Charles knew that the captain's words were genuine and the captain gruffly indicated that Charles should sit on his bridge chair as he puffed out clouds of foul smoke trying to hide his emotions. Charles sank onto the chair his bleeding head thumping with pain that began blurring his vision, the captain bellowed down a voice pipe for someone named Matthews.

The sound of feet pounding up the steel bridge ladder caused Charles to look across, as a red haired pug ugly face appeared followed by a slim body, the new arrival stepped onto the duckboards and advanced towards where Charles sat carrying a small Gladstone bag with a red cross on it. Captain Perkins grunted, "Check out the captain lad, how are his crew any serious injuries amongst them?"

Matthews shook his head and replied, "Nothing too bad sir the worst thing is the fuel oil they have imbibed while swimming it is nasty stuff but there are a few non serious burns and a broken leg otherwise they are ok considering. Now captain let me check out your scalp wound."

The young man gently cleaned the blood and oil soaked hair about the large gash then shaved the hair around the wound before painting it with iodine, Charles was shaking from shock and Matthews asked for a blanket to be brought onto the bridge for him. As he worked on Charles the sound of a plane was heard and all eyes turned skywards looking for it, was it the enemy or was it friendly? The droning hum grew louder and soon a lookout directed their attention off to the port side that the aircraft was approaching from, through binoculars they made out the unusual shape of a Catalina flying boat. The PBY was on patrol searching for submarines and as it passed overhead it waggled its wings and circled the steamer before continuing on its patrol.

Matthews was worried about Charles condition as he stitched the long gash, Charles gritting his teeth as the needle pierced his scalp and the sutures were pulled tight, it took 20 stitches to close the wound and he again dabbed the wound with iodine solution. Matthews checked Charles eyes for pupil enlargement but found them even but he was worried about a fracture and concussion. He told the captain he should get the patient below and into a bunk for the rest of the voyage. Two crew members were called to the bridge to help get Charles below, they soon had him tucked up in a bunk where he fell into a deep sleep.

The Taroona steamed on at her top speed of 18knots as HMAS Stuart raced alongside her aldis lamp flickering while the signalman on the Taroona's bridge jotted down the message. Captain Spurgeon was asking if Charles was among those rescued, he was relieved to hear he was aboard and in reasonable condition but asleep. The convoy arrived in Port Moresby and the survivors were offloaded, the wounded including Charles sent to the base hospital before the unloading commenced, the supplies were soon swinging ashore as the cranes worked flat out, trucks raced back and forth carting the supplies to camouflaged storage areas. Unloading was done rapidly as they never knew when the enemy air force would pay them a visit.

The ships were unloaded by the next morning and Taroona set sail on her own as she was considered fast enough to evade submarines, as she steamed out of the harbour she ran aground on the coral reef at the entrance grinding heavily and becoming stuck on the reef. The harbour personnel saw her position and several ships including Stuart went to her aid attempting to tow her off into deep water but her hull remained stuck fast. She was a sitting duck if the enemy attacked and at 4000 tons she was a valuable prize for them.

Three days she lay there and during that period several airborne attacks were carried out on the 7-mile aerodrome outside Port Moresby, for some unknown reason the bombers didn't carry out an attack on her. On the fourth day with three naval ships and a high tide she scraped and ground off the reef and undamaged due to her flat bottom was free to continue her voyage back to Australia.

Meanwhile in the base hospital Charles was in bed, head swathed in bandages with a roaring headache when Peter appeared in the ward his dressing gown fluttering behind him and slippers slapping on the polished floor as he hurried to see Charles. He reached the bed and grabbed Charles in a bear hug, Charles groaned as his headache made his head feel as if it was exploding, Peter realised the problem and gently laid Charles back on the crisp white pillow as he begged his lover's forgiveness.

Charles smiled wanly at the handsome young commando, his eyes dark circled and showing his pain over the loss of his ship and so many of her crew. Peter held his hand in both his and told Charles he loved him and was glad he had survived the sinking, he went on to say he would be soon sent back up the track to help drive the enemy out of the Owen Stanleys and back towards the swamps of Buna. As he talked the air raid sirens began to wail their dirge of warning, the hospital staff hurried about shifting those who could be moved out of their beds and into wheel chairs to rush them to safety in the air raid shelters. Peter grabbed Charles chair and hurried off towards the doors out into the grounds and across the lawns to the sand bagged concrete shelter set deep in the ground. They moved down the sloping entrance and around the right angle corner into the shelter proper where they joined the other patients and some of the staff, the rest attending to those unable to be shifted due to their injuries.

Charles head was driving him mad as the movement caused the pain to increase to a throbbing crescendo in his injured skull, bright lights flashed behind his closed eyelids as he gritted his teeth in pain. The throbbing of aircraft engines drummed in his head as the bombers flew overhead, soon the shrill whistle of bombs shattered the sky as they screamed earthwards from the bellies of the bombers heading for the airfield. The crumping concussions shook the earth even where they sat in the shelter and dust filled the air causing them to cough and sneeze, this nearly caused Charles to black out from pain.

The planes flew on the engine sounds fading away in the distance as the few fighter planes that had been hidden from view in sandbagged niches under camouflage netting roared aloft to chase after the enemy. The all clear wailed and those sheltering once again came out into the open, Peter gently wheeled Charles slowly along trying not to jar him as the wheelchair rolled across the uneven lawn area. He was soon lying comfortable in the bed with Peter seated next to the bed, they talk quietly as the second patient had been returned to the room after having tests done elsewhere in the hospital.

As they talk footsteps approach and lieutenant Douglas, the gunner, accompanied by Bryce appear through the door, Peter grins at the two men and greets them saying he's glad to see that they survived the sinking. The two visitors borrow chairs from the other patient's area and join Peter with Charles, they tell Charles who has survived the sinking and their current state of health conditions. Their news makes Charles feel a little better as they chat and after some time the two sailors made their farewells and left the ward. Peter was soon chased out by a nurse so Charles could rest for a while, he reluctantly left Charles and walked out to sit on the screened veranda where he lit up a cigarette puffing on it slowly while thinking about his lover Charles.

To be continued...
 

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Posted: 04/11/08