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HMS Scylla was built in Scotland and launched in 1942. Scylla was assigned duty in the Arctic, supporting Russia bound convoys. In October she was sent south to support Operation Torch, the invasion of North Africa in November 1942, as part of Force O, along with her sister ship HMS Charybdis. In September 1943 Scylla again joined HMS Charybdis to support the landings at Salerno. From October 1943 till February 1944 Scylla was docked at Chatham as she was fitted with new equipment in preparation for D-Day the returned to Scappa to work up and test the new equipment, in April she sailed for Portsmouth to undertake excerises.
On D-Day HMS Scylla was the flagship for Eastern Task Group, providing fire support for the British beaches of Gold, Sword and Juno. On June 23, 1944 Scylla hit a mine off of Normandy and was badly damaged, temporary repairs were done but a full survey of the damage sustained revealed far more extensive damage than originally realized. HMS Scylla was finally scrapped in 1950.
I am trying to find out as much information about HMS Scylla as I can. My grandfather served on her during WW II . Unfortunately he has passed away and never liked to talk to his family about his war time service. I'm looking for any photos or personal memories people may have. My grandfather's name was Herbert John Waddell and I believe his rank was Chief Petty Officer. As far as I know HMS Scylla was the only ship he served on.
Any information would be very much appreciated. Thank - you
In November 1942 I finished my training and set off from Portsmouth to Scapa Flow where I boarded HMS Scylla. The first thing we did was an exercise with HMS Nelson in the Pentland Firth. With it being rough HMS Nelson decided to return (and I was rather ill with sea sickness at this time). After that, we refuelled and reprovisioned with amunition, food and water.
We set off into the North Sea, we didn't know where we were going as it was a secret. Our ship was the flagship with Rear Admiral Burnett in charge. We had to rendezvous with a convoy which had already sailed and would probably be in action by the time we arrived - which did actually happen. We were, in fact, a little late getting there, which resulted in us going to action stations before we caught up with them. We had the aircraft carrier Avenger (a converted cargo ship) and support craft with us. I had to do lookout duties in the crows nest which was 75 feet up the mast. The sea was so rough at times that I would be looking at the top of the waves - At 70 feet above the deck!
We took up our positions in the convoy and were constantly attacked by incoming German aircraft. In fact, we avoided quite a few torpedoes dropped by the aircraft. The attack lasted five full days with very little respite which meant that we had to sleep on the guns at times. I remember the first time I loaded the gun, I had a shell in my arms ready to load when the alarm sounded to announce a shell was to be fired - it was fired and the noise it made was horrendous, shocking me for several seconds before I recovered and calmed down enough to carry on.
We took what was left of the convoy to Mermansk Ffiord where we left it to return home. On the way back we had to round up some stragglers. I remember being in the crows nest and seeing something on the horizon which I thought was a ship. Eventually, after two hours chase, a ship was found - an oil tanker. I was commended for my eyesight for this. We took control of the British ship and escorted it back, calling at Iceland for a few hours ashore.
Our next trip was to the Med. We took Admiral Cunnungham, who was commanding the fleet there. Crossing the bay I think we must have taken a short cut too short because the lookout spotted a plane coming towards us which turned out to be a German bomber which had a range of 1000 miles fully loaded. The plane didn't do anything but turned round and went back, however, a few hours later we were attacked by quite a number of these aircraft and a stick of bombs was dropped across our bow which resulted in us taking evasive action, although we did engage the enemy at the same time with the possibility of one of them being being shot down by us.
An event that occured on our way back from the Med. was reported in the Sheffield Star. "Ordinary seaman Jack Grisdale, son of Mrs E Grisdale .... who ewas a loading number on one of the port guns of HMS Scylla when she sank a big German merchantman blockade runner on New Year's Day, was recently in Sheffield. "OS Grisdale who had his 19th birthday a few days ago signed up for the navy in July 1942 and spent last Christmas in Algiers."
Jack Grisdale
My late father, Ronald Haslett of Newport, Wales served on H.M.S. Scylla during the war. He joined her sometime in 1943 and was on the Russian convoys. I remember him telling me of how he had to load the shells into the guns, and also firing a orligun at German aircraft. He also served on an L.S.T. on D.Day off Gold beach. It was not till years later that he found out that Scylla was the Flagship that day off the beach.
Simon Haslett
After initial training at HMS Collingwood, a land based training establishment, I went to Portsmouth barracks in the Spring of 1942 to await a ship. Very soon, I was lining up as part of the draft for a new light cruiser being commissioned at Greenock, HMS Scylla. During the line-up, a petty officer asked whether there were any CW (commission warrant) candidates. Like the naive artless 18 year old I then was, I held up my hand. This was stupid because it marked me out as a possible officer candidate and so much less acceptable to the boys as one of them. We boarded a train in Portsmouth and slowly made our way up to Greenock, during which time we were all seen by an officer and allocated our function on the ship. I was to be a shell loader in one of the forward gun turrets at action stations, otherwise a boatswain's mate doing 4 hours on 8 hours off standing by the gangway to greet arrivals and departures and making announcements over the ship's relay system. I thought this sounded a good number until life on board started, when there were, as a new ship and crew, a lot of gunnery practices. Whereas such a practice would be the main job for the day of the rest of the gun team concerned, I then had to go and do my 4 hour stint in the rota. After one particularly arduous day when I don't think we once hit a towed target, I went to the mess deck to get a drink of water during the midnight watch .. and woke up on a bench being shaken by a furious leading seaman who was the senior boatswain's mate on duty. After a rollicking, which included swear words I had never even heard before, he very sportingly did not report me to the Officer of the Watch: Had he done so, I would almost certainly have lost my CW status for the heinous offence of being asleep on duty. One of my duties when on the 0400 to 0800 watch was to shake the ship's baker at 0500, which invariably involved swinging his hammock until he nearly fell out. He always seemed to be aroused when one shook him and I swear that he had the same vest and pants on in the whole of the 5 months I was aboard. My appearance, incidentally, on the first night on Scylla standing by my hammock in pyjamas was greeted with demented and paranoid laughter and hisses mixed with ribald and licentious remarks usually beginning 'Gor, lofty ...' and then making unrepeatable suggestions.
We worked up around the Clyde and the Isle of Aran, and then went to Scapa Flow. Here my mess deck promotion and niche in the hall of matelot popularity started. Shore leave in Scapa was something like 1 pm to 4pm, and one could only buy booze by rationed tickets acquired on board. I did not drink so was happy for anyone to have my tickets, a highly unusual phenomenum. Many a sailor's idea of fun ashore was to drown more pints of beer in the 3 hours or whatever than anyone else on board. We went between ship and the shore quay in an old drifter. Many a sailor returning from his beer session got on to the quay but at the end just went on walking. The drifter's crew were experts with their boat hooks on hearing the splash. The skill of mates bringing a sodden (in both senses of the word) chum aboard carried upright between them up a gangway without stumbling was the very essence of sailor loyalty and camaraderie. I might just add that I greatly enjoyed my 6 months as an ordinary seaman, especially for the humour of lower deck life. One of my jobs aboard was to help some of the crew write letters to munition factory ladies who left their name and address in the cases in which shells were brought on board. Most of our writers used false names like Montague Whaler (which is the name for a type of naval boat which most ships have), Ivor Beard, John Thomas, Blew Funnel, Turner Port, Rowlock Oars (rowlocks are what the oars rest in), Archie Angel, Murphy O'Mansk (my favourite). Crew letters were censored by the officers, but so far as I knew they let the letters go, except I suspect the lewd ones. Ships had a PO Box number. I left the ship before I knew of any replies from the munition ladies.
There was a lot of coming and going of ships and senior officers after we got to Scapa Flow, resulting in our being told that we were to be the flagship on a Russian convoy of Rear Admiral Burnett, a jovial rugged man, apparently affectionately known to his friends as Uncle Bob, but I am sure I heard someone on Scylla calling him Bullshit Bob. He was however experienced in Arctic convoy work. Scylla was a bit of a one-off in that of the 12 ships of the Dido class, it was one of, I think, only two which were converted during construction to be an anti-aircraft ship rather than a conventional cruiser engaging surface stuff. Heaven knows why but the gun turrets were open, perhaps because we had 4.5in AA guns instead of 5.25in normals. I stood at the back of the turret lifting the quite heavy shells from the magazine hoist on to a tray from which the shell was shoved into the gun barrel. In other words, pretty awful manhandling stuff compared to the totally automatic loading of modern large weaponry. I hate to think what such gun turrets would have been like in a severe Arctic winter, if indeed they could have been usable at all with the ice which could build up on the ship especially forward. Even in September, I had thick gloves on and, amongst other things, thigh-length socks knitted for me by a bonnie lass I met in Greenock (is Scotland that cold!). I lost her address and we never went back to Greenock so I still wonder whether she ever finished the polo neck pullover she said she had started in the same wool as the socks. I wonder what it would have weighed! As it is, I think I could have got both legs into one sock.
Before 2nd September, 39 merchant ships had arrived in Loch Ewe, up in Ross and Cromarty, and they sailed that day escorted by 6 destroyers and 5 trawlers of the Western Approaches Command. The Iceland rendezvous was reached on 7th September when the escort duties were taken over by - 2 destroyers: Achates and Malcolm; 4 corvettes: Bergamot, Bluebell, Bryony and Camellia 3 minesweepers: Harrier, Gleaner and Sharpshooter; 4 trawlers: Cape Argona, Cape Mariato, Daneman and St Kenan; 2 anti-aircraft ships: Alynbank and Ulster Queen; and 2 submarines: P614 and P615 (I could never work out their function).
The convoy Commodore, who had the rather unlikely name of Boddam-Whetham (ex Rear Admiral) had quite a difficult job with the 20 US ships in particular in regard to signals and station-keeping since they simply had had little experience of war convoy work. Apart from the US and 10 British ships, there were 6 Russians and 3 Panamanians (What, flags of convenience even in 1942?)
We in Scylla had, as yet, no scares but the escort-carrier Avenger which rendezvoused with the convoy off Iceland had had a torrrid journey north, having lost one plane overboard in rough weather and had her engines pack up owing to dirty fuel. Like Scylla, Avenger was new and untried. She carried 12 Hurricane fighters and 3 Swordfish, an unbelievable old stringbag. (When a squadron attacked the Bismarck the German gunners just could not believe or adjust to its speed of not much more than 100 mph and I think all returned safely). Avenger was basically a merchant ship's hull with a flight deck on top, built in the States. Throughout, she had her own escort of 2 destroyers. Ironically, her Hurricanes were early Mark Is, lacking heavy gun power; the convoy carried the very latest Mark Xs and Xls for the Russians.
With the convoy plodding on, Scylla put into Seidisfjord in NE Iceland, and very surprisingly a watch was allowed ashore for a few hours. I was not one of the lucky ones. Most of them were guided by the local Icelanders to a building in which a dance was set up for them. Apart from the Wrens in Scapa Flow, the crew had not seen a woman since leaving Greenock two months or so ago. I don't know whether it is always so, but on this occasion at least the Icelandic ladies danced embracingly and come-hitherly, and seemed without exception to be shapely, well-endowed beauties. Or at least that is how the shoregoers saw them. It was fortunate for efficiency that we did not immediately go into action, since no naval rating in those days would refrain from favourably reacting to close feminine contact. In my later naval days, I was on an MTB which put into a tiny port in Bideford Bay called Appledore. The naval base was run by a retired Admiral, brought back for war service. We had been told that it was renowned for having the best-looking bunch of Wrens in any naval base, personally selected by the Admiral. Whether or not this was right, they were exceptionally attractive. My CO cleverly but falsely found a defect in the starboard outer engine, so we had an additional night in Appledore.
I don't remember how long we stayed in Seidisfjord, maybe half a day, but I do recall that we lost an anchor on leaving which wasn't thought to be a good omen. Sailors tend to be quite superstitious. Before the full enemy assault was thought to be likely, we and some destroyer escorts disappeared off to Spitzbergen to refuel. Two tankers and a Navy vessel as guardship lay in Axelfjord. Pumps and hoses worked full time, and we left at 0400, it now being 13th September. Spitzbergen seemed to be nothing but -rock and snow - what a place to be stuck in we all thought.
Meanwhile, German aircraft and U-boats had been shadowing the convoy whose speed was a mere 8 knots. When visibility was reasonable, one could see the enemy aircraft, but they were too far away to be shot at, whilst the Hurricanes were avoided by their climbing into cloud. Most days were dull and overcast; winds tended to be north-westerly and light to moderate, and some snow or sleet showers. In other words, it was bloody cold. By the time we got back to the convoy, it had its first casualty, a Russian freighter (Stalingrad), struck by torpedo, followed by a US vessel (Oliver Ellsworth) sunk by the same U-boat.
I might here mention the layout of the convoy. It consisted of 4 horizontal rows of merchant ships, each with 10 ships except the fourth line which had 8 vessels and the 2 anti-aircraft ships in it. Five more merchant ships were in a rear fifth line. Ahead of the merchant ships were spread 8 naval ships with Scylla just immediately ahead of the first line of merchant ships which included the Commodore's. To the rear were spread 18 warships, including Avenger and her 2 escorts. Almost immediately upon our return on the 13th a high-level bombing attack took place through breaks in the cloud cover, and then what was intended by the Germans to be the coup de grace ... the assassination ... the ultimate stratagem.
Aside from the reconnaissance aircraft, the Germans clearly knew a lot about the defence of the convoy. It was subsequently discovered that 2 squadrons of RAF Hampden bombers had been flown to North Russia to provide an anti-ship strike force. The Hampden was a twin engined light bomber of pretty moderate ability and speed, so it is not surprising that 5 of them were lost in transit. On 5th September, one of them crashed in the top part of Norway. The crew neglected to destroy the aircraft, which carried papers about the composition of the escort, which greatly facilitated the German deployment of their aircraft and U-boats.
We had been at action stations for many hours, with all the logistic problems of feeding and going to the loo. In an open turret I could at least look out and get some idea of what was going on, but it was no fun for those stuck below deck, such as in the engine room or the shell magazines. I heard the leading seaman gun layer excitedly say 'I don't effing-well believe it - the effers are everywhere .. stand by to fire ... cor I don't believe this.' A score of Junkers 88s had done the high-level diversionary bombing. They hit no ships but created some disruption in the order of the convoy, which was no doubt one of their intentions. I now saw that spread across the skyline were 28 Heinkel 111s in two waves, 18 Junkers 88s, backed up by another 17 Junkers 88s. The aircraft were only about 20 feet above sea level and attacked into the right hand head of the convoy, disregarding the escort screen and so going for the merchant ships. The Commodore ordered a 45 degree turn to starboard so as to face the enemy aircraft and make slimmer targets, but the right hand columns failed to respond. The enemy planes were in line abreast not much more than 100 yards apart and dropped their torpedoes, often two per plane, within a mile or so, having maintained their position despite the intense barrage put up by all the ships. Some then flew down the convoy, which took more guts; their low-level approach and flying resulted in some gunfire hitting our own ships.
Inevitably merchant vessels were hit and sunk - three from the most starboard column (out of the 10 columns), three from the column next to it, and two from different central columns. Two more air attacks were made on the 13th, late afternoon and in the evening but there were no sinkings. I have always thought it incredible that the torpedo attacks only sunk eight ships bearing in mind that probably about 40/50 torpedos were dropped by the aircraft which got through the warship screen. The following day, a U-boat sunk an oiler in the rear line of the convoy before dawn, and midday there was another torpedo attack by 20 bombers, again low on the starboard bow of the convoy, but this time seemingly going for the escort carrier and other warships. Some of the Hurricanes got airborne. 11 enemy aircraft were brought down compared to 8 the previous day, and there were no convoy casualties. 10 further aircraft were shot down in subsequent air attacks on the 14th, with only one casualty, the last remaining ship in the ill-fated 9th and 10th columns. One of the crew of another ship watched the death of the casualty, describing how the plane 'came in to about 300 yards .. before dropping its torpedoes and then swept on. As it passed, the ship's gunner raked it fore and aft and bright tongues of flame flickered from its starboard engine. It dipped, recovered, dipped again and seemed just about to crash, when its torpedoes reached their mark and the ship simply vanished into thin air'. It took the plane with it. A lone steward survived this ammunition ship's explosion. There is a well published official photograph of the explosion, but I have another one given me by the photographer on board Scylla. He told me that his camera happened to be facing the direction of the ammunition ship with his hand ready to 'snap'. The force of the explosion shook his hand which unintentionally took the photo. In another incident, a ship's gunner was observed to break down and cry because his hands were too cold and clumsy to work his gun.
In the evening of the 15th, the convoy passed Hope Island, S.E. of Spitzbergen, about 77 degrees North and Scylla took on board some of the ship survivors, 200 or so. When, days later, I was talking to one of them, a great black American seaman whose ship sank very rapidly, I asked what might have happened to him supposing he hadn't been standing on the upper deck. 'Boy', he replied, 'I just ain't supposin' no supposins'. We were told, incidentally, that more than 20 minutes or more in the water could be fatal. The rescue efforts were in fact skillfully done as witness the 550 survivors. Three Hurricane pilots were quickly picked up, having flown through our own flak with enormous courage to get at the enemy aircraft.
Those who had been in the sea for up to 20 minutes usually recovered after stripping off their clothes and being wrapped in warm blankets, plus a good measure of the wonderful emolliant naval rum - virgin, raw unadulterated nectar. More than 20 minutes or so in the water usually involved stripping, wrapping for warmth, artificial respirating and, where required, morphine induced sleep. If no complications ensued, recovery would be within two to three days. By all accounts, German naval and air forces had special cold climate clothing. I knew of none issued to our crews and airman. From the 16th the main danger came from U-boats, up to a dozen being in the area. In the afternoon, we parted company with PQ18 to join the homeward-bound convoy QP14, together with the destroyers, the escort-carrier, the two submarines and the two oilers which had been stationed in the rear of the convoy. In lieu, four Soviet destroyers joined and I believe were effective in anti-aircraft support.
QP14 contained some of the surviving ships from PQ17. For three days the convoy had a comparatively quiet run despite the presence of U-boats. But on the 20th the minesweeper HMS Leda was torpedoed, as later in the day was a PQ17 survivor, the Silver Sword. On the 21st an oiler and two other merchant ships went down, sunk by one U-boat. Because of the U-boat danger, Scylla and the escort carrier Avenger were sent off to Scapa and Admiral Burnett transferred his flag to the destroyer HMS Milne. The convoy arrived at Loch Ewe without further loss on 26th September. Our journey from Iceland to Scapa was made in a gale and the ship once rolled 45 degrees. On one occasion, I was standing or rather clinging on the bridge doing my boatswain's mate job when up a gangway appeared the head of the ship's chaplain looking olive green. In fact the poor chap hardly ever looked as though he should be at sea. He struggled on to the bridge, whereupon one of the lookouts asked him whether he would like a cup of cocoa. The reply was almost incoherent, so in 10 minutes or so up came a steaming mug of cocoa, done in the traditional navy way - a mass of cocoa which one could hardly stir it was so thick accompanied by spoons of sugar and condensed milk. But one look at the concoction sent the chaplain running to the loo, thought I doubt he made it.
From our leaving, to the convoy arriving in Russia, PQ18 faced further air torpedo and bombing attacks, but not on the same scale. The escort had been reduced to two destroyers, one anti-aircraft ship and a few corvettes, trawler and minesweepers. Only one ship was lost, but there were weather and navigational hazards before berthing, as well as inevitable crew tiredness.
Our convoy had lost 13 out of 40 ships, 10 by aircraft, 3 by U-boats, QP14 lost 3 out of 15, all to U-boats. The German air force had lost 41 aircraft, and attributed the heavy loss to the presence of the Avenger. In fact, the Luftwaffe never again mounted such an air attack and transferred some of the air groups from Northern Norway to the Mediterranean. Nor were there any large merchant ship losses on later convoys, so PQ18 was something of a milestone. In view of what the fear of surface ship action did to PQ17, it is surprising that the Germans did not risk some of their large ships, but history has shown that Hitler had little idea as to how naval warfare worked and even less idea how to use his ships, highly efficient as German ships and their gunnery had always proved. It may be that the loss of the Bismarck in the Atlantic and the Scharnhorst in the Arctic made his military ego and subjectivity fear further losses. In fact, we now know that the Admiral Scheer, a pocket battleship, and two cruisers, the Hipper and the Koln, wanted, as a unit, to attack QP14, but Hitler warned Raeder, the naval C-in-C, that these ships were important to the defence of Norway so he must not accept undue risks. Raeder then called off the operation and the ships remained idle in harbour. Another feature of perhaps surprising German inefficiency was the lack of effective cooperation between their air and naval forces.
On our part, by September 1942 ship radar was becoming more sophisticated and so gave earlier and more accurate warning of approaching aircraft. On the other hand, there were hiccups. Not long after we started our journey back, when we were not at action stations, the radar officer picked up an echo of aircraft to the north of us; action stations was sounded but no aircraft appeared. I learnt later that the echoes came from the land of an island, for which Radar got a right rollicking from the Captain. I have always been fascinated with the relationship between the Royal and Merchant navies and the Russians during the convoy years, and have heard many conflicting views from those who were aboard ships or ashore in Murmansk, Archangel and elsewhere.
It must be remembered that for some time after Germany invaded Russia the country was the only one fighting the Germans on land. It was a bureaucratic country, without quite the same values on life as in the more sophisticated western world. The Russian people were getting used to sacrifice in 1942, and maybe at most levels of Russian life the convoys were, in their view, no more than they were entitled to expect of an ally, not that I think they ever regarded us as one in the sense that the UK and the US did of each other. My very limited experience of seamen who had been in Russia was that they wanted to fraternise but received little or no encouragement to do so on the Russian side, some thought from an inbred fear of the political system. Life did appear to be somewhat easier and better looked after at officer level. In August 1942, the US cruiser Tuscaloosa and three destroyers carried a British medical unit to look after our sick and wounded in North Russia and who had been suffering severe privations. Moscow flatly declined to allow the medical personnel to be landed at Archangel, so they came back in the next westward convoy. But it has to be said that Russian bureaucratic formalities were apparently rather taken for granted. Eventually, in October, permission was given.
One of course wonders, now, how much difference the supplies brought by the convoys made to the Russian war effort. In view of the enormous industry the Russians moved eastwards away from the German Army and the amazing recovery of production, as well as some good technical products, eg probably the best tank of the war, as well as some excellent attack aircraft, I really wonder whether the convoy supplies made much difference other than possibly the psychological one of support for an ally, however little we understood it. I certainly do not think that the Russians ever appreciated the enormous effort which went into the continuing convoys. One of the many facets of Soviet naval and military life which I wish I had experienced is that of discipline and how ostensibly equal comrades took and gave orders. In an interesting book by a Soviet submariner of his wartime experience in the Baltic, most ranks, including the Captain, seemed to have Comrade in front. It is no doubt an exaggeration to say that the submarine was run cooperatively, but there certainly did not seem to be a great divide between the officers and the crew. The individual effective effort of each member of the crew to other crew seemed to be a bigger factor than in British boats. The submarine in the book had its political officer on board and I assume all Soviet ships did. My impression from the book is that which is often expressed, now that the Soviet Union and its archives became more open, namely that life was materially less precious than it was to UK and US forces. There is ample evidence that as the war successfully progressed, the avoidance as much as possible of casualties was often paramount to Allied military strategy; definitely not so in Russia.
Finally, just a few statistics, taken from Richard Woodman's book in 1994 'Arctic Convoys', an apt finale to the history of these Russian convoys. Between October 1941 and March 1946 Britain shipped to Russia war material to the value of £308 million and raw materials, foodstufs, etc. worth £120 million. The war material included no less than 5,218 tanks and 7,411 aircraft.
18 warships went down with the loss of 1,944 men, whilst 87 merchant ships and 829 lives were lost.
Yet some miserable little civil servant in the Ministry of Defence seems to have advised the Government not to let British servicemen, who took part in these convoys, to have the arctic medal of the Russian Government who wanted to give it to them. I doubt the man has ever seen an angry shot fired or put his feet in a cold bath.
J.D. Nightingirl
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List of those who served on HMS Scylla during World War Two.
- Petty Officer James Fuller Read his story
- Jack Grisdale Read his story
- Ronald Haslett Read his story
- Walter "Curly" Jackson
- J.D. Nightingirl Read his story
- CPO Herbert John Waddell. Read his Story
- Wainwright
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