Hi to one and all,
War is never a good thing IMO but it pushes men to do extraordinary brave deeds , sometimes paying the price with their lives .
Many operations were undertaken in WW2 , one of the most famous is Frankton.
At 7.17 pm on December 7, 1942, His Majesty’s Submarine Tuna surfaced off the coast of Occupied France near the mouth of the River Gironde. The Bay of Biscay was kind that night, the sea oily calm under starlight.
“Beastly clear,” remarked her captain,
Lt Dickie Raikes. “Looks all right for your launching. Do you want to start?”
The tranquility of the scene emphasised the sub’s vulnerability. A flash of searchlight or gunfire and she would have to dive immediately. Major Herbert “Blondie” Hasler of the Royal Marines agreed that, yes, it was time to go. The deck was soon alive with commandos and sailors preparing to launch six canoes stored below. Cockles, they were called, two-man collapsible canvas boats, hopefully more robust than they looked.
One snagged as it was being brought up. Hasler inspected the craft and pronounced her unseaworthy. Its crew, Marines William Ellery and Eric Fisher, would have to return to Britain on Tuna. Fisher wept with frustration, unaware that, in all probability, his life was being saved.
Hasler, his blond moustache obscured by black face paint, suggested to Raikes that he should book a table for them both at the Savoy for April 1 the following year. “Thanks for everything you have done on our behalf,” he offered.
“The very best of luck to you all,” replied Raikes.
The five remaining canoes cast off and, so little and inconsequential in the ocean swell, were soon swallowed by the night. On they headed, towards the dark mass of the French coast, and a small place in history.
The Cockleshell Heroes, as they would later be known (much to Hasler’s annoyance) were the harbingers of today’s Special Boat Service (SBS). The operation begun that night, codenamed Frankton, was a daring attack on merchant ships moored in the harbour of Bordeaux, some hundred miles upstream. To reach their targets, fast blockade runners used to carry German supplies to Japan and vice versa, the 10 commandos would have to paddle for nights on end, laying up under cover on isolated stretches of riverbank during the day. Their weapons were limpet mines, to be attached to the ships’ hulls before detonation.
“Do you realise that your expectation of a long life is very remote?” recruits to Hasler’s unit were asked after answering an advertisement for “Volunteers for Hazardous Service”. No irony was intended. Of the 10 men who set out that night, only two survived – Hasler and his fellow crewman Cpl Bill Sparks. Two succumbed to hypothermia after capsizing and six were executed by the Germans.
The episode was celebrated in the 1955 film The Cockleshell Heroes, yet there is no public memorial to the men who took part in the raid, and the submarine crew who risked all to deliver them.
Much is known about Frankton but some details remain unclear. In his new book, Cockleshell Heroes – The Final Witness, Quentin Rees has unearthed fresh information about the fate of those captured.
Survival was indeed a faint possibility. In October 1942, Hitler issued a secret order authorising the execution of captured commandos. Their “treacherous behaviour” had, he decided, deprived them of the right to be treated as legitimate prisoners of war. Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten, Chief of Combined Operations, considered Hasler too valuable to be expended on what was likely to be a one-way mission. But Blondie, just 28, was having none of it. “If they go without me and don’t return, I shall never be able to face the others again,” he told a superior.
There was more to fear than the Germans. The Gironde boasts a fierce tidal race, a wall of water sweeping periodically down the estuary. Shortly after the start of the operation, it claimed the first casualty, the canoe Coalfish, crewed by Sgt Samuel Wallace and Marine Robert Ewart. After capsizing, they swam ashore and gave themselves up to a German unit. Conger was next to capsize when a second tidal race hit the frail little flotilla seven hours into the operation. Her crew, Cpl George Sheard and Marine David Moffatt, were left clinging on to the sterns of Catfish, crewed by Hasler and Sparks, and Cuttlefish. Hasler spent a precious hour pulling the two men towards the shore, but the mission took precedence.
“I’m sorry, but this is as close to the beach as we dare go,” he said softly. “You must swim for it.”
Sheard, grey-faced from the cold, replied: “It’s all right sir, we understand. Thanks for bringing us so far.”
The bodies of Sheard and Moffatt were later found washed ashore and buried in unmarked graves nearby.
Third to disappear was Cuttlefish, crewed by Lt John MacKinnon and Marine James Conway. She is thought to have been abandoned after hitting an underwater obstacle. The two men made it to La Reole, in ostensibly neutral Vichy France, where MacKinnon was treated in hospital for a leg injury. News of the men’s presence leaked and they were seized by the Germans.
“One can only imagine what Hasler felt as that first dawn approached,” reflects Maj Cavan. “Six boats were now two and a normal man might have yielded to despair, yet there was no question of abandoning the operation.”
With only Crayfish, crewed by Cpl Albert Laver and Marine William Mills, for company, Hasler pressed on. Incessant nocturnal paddling against fast currents was followed by tense inactivity under camouflage during the day. The men hid in reed beds reached by crossing dangerously exposed stretches of mud.
The exhausted party finally caught up with their quarry on the fourth night. Hasler and Sparks placed limpets
on three blockade runners and a U-boat support vessel, while Laver and Mills placed theirs on two. The resulting explosions caused all six ships to sink in shallow water.
Of the six captured men, Wallace and Ewart were executed first. On December 11, following a brief, inept interrogation, they were taken to a sandpit on the outskirts of Bordeaux and shot. Laver, Mills, MacKinnon and Conway lived for a few months before they too were executed. The men did give up details of their training but they betrayed neither the presence of other commandos nor the identities of helpful French civilians. They are thought by Mr Rees to lie in a wood a few miles to the north-east of Bordeaux.
Hasler preferred his men to be unattached, given their life expectancy, but inevitably relationships were formed. Robert “Bobby” Ewart celebrated his 21st birthday on HMS Tuna. A Glasgow lad, he had fallen for a 16-year-old girl from Southsea called Heather Powell. On Tuna he wrote a last letter to her.
“Dear Heather, I trust it won’t be necessary to have this sent to you but since I don’t know the outcome of this little adventure, I thought I’d leave this note behind.
“I couldn’t help but love you Heather, although you were so young. I will always love you, as I know you do me. That alone should let me through this, but one never knows the turns of fate. One thing I ask of you, Heather, is not to take it too hard. You have yet your life to live. Think of me as a good friend and keep your chin up. Some lucky fellow will find you who has more sense than I had and who can get you what you deserve.
“You are young yet for this sort of thing but I had to do it, so please don’t worry and upset yourself about me. With your picture in front of me I feel confident that I shall pull through and get back to you some day. I won’t have you read more, Heather, but I will thank you for all you have done. I pray that God will spare me and save you from this misery, so hoping for a speedy reunion. I’ll say cheerio and God be with you. Thanking you and your mother from the bottom of my heart. God bless and keep you all. Yours for ever, Bob, chin up Sweetheart.”
Ewart was informed of his execution hours before it took place. According to a German report, Sgt Wallace comforted and encouraged the young Marine as they were driven to the firing squad.
Heather was never told the exact circumstances of her lover’s death, but it was clear from those who returned from Frankton that he would not come back. She contracted tuberculosis and, her heart broken, died just before her 17th birthday.
Blondie Hasler would live on until 1987 and Bill Sparks until 2002. Hasler returned to Britain in April 1943 and was only a few days late for that appointment with Raikes at the Savoy. (Raikes then took him to Kettner’s in Soho because the food was better.)
Thus Blondie was able to complete the diary entry – deliberately bald to preserve security – started all those months before in the half light aboard Tuna: “7th December – 2nd April 43. Away from UK on operation, Frankton.”
A love of the sea began for Blondie Hasler at an early age and developed quickly into a life-long passion. Mixed with this was an inquiring inventive mind and an adventurous, free spirit unable to accept the status quo.
Blondie’s sailing fame took off in 1932, the year he was commissioned into the Royal Marines, when he sailed a fourteen-foot dinghy single-handed from Plymouth to Portsmouth and back.
His military prowess was also proven early in life when, as a result of serving in Norway in 1940, he was appointed an OBE, mentioned in dispatches and awarded the Croix de Guerre. In 1941 he considered taking the war to the enemy by stealth rather than by force and wrote a paper suggesting the use of canoes and underwater swimmers.
His ideas were tested in 1942 at Bordeaux, after which he was known to his extreme embarrassment, as the Cockleshell Hero.
He was recommended for the Victoria Cross , this was never approved, but received the DSO for the operation instead.
In January 1944 he transferred to Ceylon to train ‘Special Forces’ against the Japanese in Burma and, by the war’s end, had dispatched 173 raids against the enemy. On his return Blondie was responsible for establishing the Royal Marines Special Boat Service as it is recognised today, before retiring with ill health.
In 1946 Blondie owned the race-winning yacht Tre Sang but the next year his sailing changed to cruising in Petula, on board which he wrote the standard-bearer of yachtsman’s pilots; Harbour and Anchorage’s of the North Brittany Coast.
His writing then branched into a play that was performed – with national reviews – in Dundee. Overriding all this was a desire to design and build the smallest yacht that could be sailed in safety and with the minimum of effort. To meet these twin ideas he produced the junk-rigged Jester and the servo pendulum self-steering gear. To publicise these ‘inventions’ he suggested a single-handed trans-Atlantic race that was held in 1960. Blondie came second but it was his performance that caught the sailing public’s eye; beginning a major revolution in ocean cruising and racing.
His character also had it’s humorous side as seen in his search for the Loch Ness monster and some of his more outlandish adventures. Towards the end of his life he lived in great contentment in Scotland where organic farming and the reinvention of agriculture methods and implements took charge.
He died peacefully in 1987........a true legend in the Royal Marines and a hero to all.
Books are available here is a selection
View attachment 236004
These are also good to look at and great reference as well
Continued in next post
Nap
War is never a good thing IMO but it pushes men to do extraordinary brave deeds , sometimes paying the price with their lives .
Many operations were undertaken in WW2 , one of the most famous is Frankton.
The story of Operation Frankton and the men
At 7.17 pm on December 7, 1942, His Majesty’s Submarine Tuna surfaced off the coast of Occupied France near the mouth of the River Gironde. The Bay of Biscay was kind that night, the sea oily calm under starlight.
“Beastly clear,” remarked her captain,
Lt Dickie Raikes. “Looks all right for your launching. Do you want to start?”
The tranquility of the scene emphasised the sub’s vulnerability. A flash of searchlight or gunfire and she would have to dive immediately. Major Herbert “Blondie” Hasler of the Royal Marines agreed that, yes, it was time to go. The deck was soon alive with commandos and sailors preparing to launch six canoes stored below. Cockles, they were called, two-man collapsible canvas boats, hopefully more robust than they looked.
One snagged as it was being brought up. Hasler inspected the craft and pronounced her unseaworthy. Its crew, Marines William Ellery and Eric Fisher, would have to return to Britain on Tuna. Fisher wept with frustration, unaware that, in all probability, his life was being saved.
Hasler, his blond moustache obscured by black face paint, suggested to Raikes that he should book a table for them both at the Savoy for April 1 the following year. “Thanks for everything you have done on our behalf,” he offered.
“The very best of luck to you all,” replied Raikes.
The five remaining canoes cast off and, so little and inconsequential in the ocean swell, were soon swallowed by the night. On they headed, towards the dark mass of the French coast, and a small place in history.
The Cockleshell Heroes, as they would later be known (much to Hasler’s annoyance) were the harbingers of today’s Special Boat Service (SBS). The operation begun that night, codenamed Frankton, was a daring attack on merchant ships moored in the harbour of Bordeaux, some hundred miles upstream. To reach their targets, fast blockade runners used to carry German supplies to Japan and vice versa, the 10 commandos would have to paddle for nights on end, laying up under cover on isolated stretches of riverbank during the day. Their weapons were limpet mines, to be attached to the ships’ hulls before detonation.
“Do you realise that your expectation of a long life is very remote?” recruits to Hasler’s unit were asked after answering an advertisement for “Volunteers for Hazardous Service”. No irony was intended. Of the 10 men who set out that night, only two survived – Hasler and his fellow crewman Cpl Bill Sparks. Two succumbed to hypothermia after capsizing and six were executed by the Germans.
The episode was celebrated in the 1955 film The Cockleshell Heroes, yet there is no public memorial to the men who took part in the raid, and the submarine crew who risked all to deliver them.
Much is known about Frankton but some details remain unclear. In his new book, Cockleshell Heroes – The Final Witness, Quentin Rees has unearthed fresh information about the fate of those captured.
Survival was indeed a faint possibility. In October 1942, Hitler issued a secret order authorising the execution of captured commandos. Their “treacherous behaviour” had, he decided, deprived them of the right to be treated as legitimate prisoners of war. Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten, Chief of Combined Operations, considered Hasler too valuable to be expended on what was likely to be a one-way mission. But Blondie, just 28, was having none of it. “If they go without me and don’t return, I shall never be able to face the others again,” he told a superior.
There was more to fear than the Germans. The Gironde boasts a fierce tidal race, a wall of water sweeping periodically down the estuary. Shortly after the start of the operation, it claimed the first casualty, the canoe Coalfish, crewed by Sgt Samuel Wallace and Marine Robert Ewart. After capsizing, they swam ashore and gave themselves up to a German unit. Conger was next to capsize when a second tidal race hit the frail little flotilla seven hours into the operation. Her crew, Cpl George Sheard and Marine David Moffatt, were left clinging on to the sterns of Catfish, crewed by Hasler and Sparks, and Cuttlefish. Hasler spent a precious hour pulling the two men towards the shore, but the mission took precedence.
“I’m sorry, but this is as close to the beach as we dare go,” he said softly. “You must swim for it.”
Sheard, grey-faced from the cold, replied: “It’s all right sir, we understand. Thanks for bringing us so far.”
The bodies of Sheard and Moffatt were later found washed ashore and buried in unmarked graves nearby.
Third to disappear was Cuttlefish, crewed by Lt John MacKinnon and Marine James Conway. She is thought to have been abandoned after hitting an underwater obstacle. The two men made it to La Reole, in ostensibly neutral Vichy France, where MacKinnon was treated in hospital for a leg injury. News of the men’s presence leaked and they were seized by the Germans.
“One can only imagine what Hasler felt as that first dawn approached,” reflects Maj Cavan. “Six boats were now two and a normal man might have yielded to despair, yet there was no question of abandoning the operation.”
With only Crayfish, crewed by Cpl Albert Laver and Marine William Mills, for company, Hasler pressed on. Incessant nocturnal paddling against fast currents was followed by tense inactivity under camouflage during the day. The men hid in reed beds reached by crossing dangerously exposed stretches of mud.
The exhausted party finally caught up with their quarry on the fourth night. Hasler and Sparks placed limpets
on three blockade runners and a U-boat support vessel, while Laver and Mills placed theirs on two. The resulting explosions caused all six ships to sink in shallow water.Of the six captured men, Wallace and Ewart were executed first. On December 11, following a brief, inept interrogation, they were taken to a sandpit on the outskirts of Bordeaux and shot. Laver, Mills, MacKinnon and Conway lived for a few months before they too were executed. The men did give up details of their training but they betrayed neither the presence of other commandos nor the identities of helpful French civilians. They are thought by Mr Rees to lie in a wood a few miles to the north-east of Bordeaux.
Hasler preferred his men to be unattached, given their life expectancy, but inevitably relationships were formed. Robert “Bobby” Ewart celebrated his 21st birthday on HMS Tuna. A Glasgow lad, he had fallen for a 16-year-old girl from Southsea called Heather Powell. On Tuna he wrote a last letter to her.
“Dear Heather, I trust it won’t be necessary to have this sent to you but since I don’t know the outcome of this little adventure, I thought I’d leave this note behind.
“I couldn’t help but love you Heather, although you were so young. I will always love you, as I know you do me. That alone should let me through this, but one never knows the turns of fate. One thing I ask of you, Heather, is not to take it too hard. You have yet your life to live. Think of me as a good friend and keep your chin up. Some lucky fellow will find you who has more sense than I had and who can get you what you deserve.
“You are young yet for this sort of thing but I had to do it, so please don’t worry and upset yourself about me. With your picture in front of me I feel confident that I shall pull through and get back to you some day. I won’t have you read more, Heather, but I will thank you for all you have done. I pray that God will spare me and save you from this misery, so hoping for a speedy reunion. I’ll say cheerio and God be with you. Thanking you and your mother from the bottom of my heart. God bless and keep you all. Yours for ever, Bob, chin up Sweetheart.”
Ewart was informed of his execution hours before it took place. According to a German report, Sgt Wallace comforted and encouraged the young Marine as they were driven to the firing squad.
Heather was never told the exact circumstances of her lover’s death, but it was clear from those who returned from Frankton that he would not come back. She contracted tuberculosis and, her heart broken, died just before her 17th birthday.
Blondie Hasler would live on until 1987 and Bill Sparks until 2002. Hasler returned to Britain in April 1943 and was only a few days late for that appointment with Raikes at the Savoy. (Raikes then took him to Kettner’s in Soho because the food was better.)
Thus Blondie was able to complete the diary entry – deliberately bald to preserve security – started all those months before in the half light aboard Tuna: “7th December – 2nd April 43. Away from UK on operation, Frankton.”
Herbert George "Blondie" Hasler
Blondie’s sailing fame took off in 1932, the year he was commissioned into the Royal Marines, when he sailed a fourteen-foot dinghy single-handed from Plymouth to Portsmouth and back.
His military prowess was also proven early in life when, as a result of serving in Norway in 1940, he was appointed an OBE, mentioned in dispatches and awarded the Croix de Guerre. In 1941 he considered taking the war to the enemy by stealth rather than by force and wrote a paper suggesting the use of canoes and underwater swimmers.
His ideas were tested in 1942 at Bordeaux, after which he was known to his extreme embarrassment, as the Cockleshell Hero.
He was recommended for the Victoria Cross , this was never approved, but received the DSO for the operation instead.
In January 1944 he transferred to Ceylon to train ‘Special Forces’ against the Japanese in Burma and, by the war’s end, had dispatched 173 raids against the enemy. On his return Blondie was responsible for establishing the Royal Marines Special Boat Service as it is recognised today, before retiring with ill health.
In 1946 Blondie owned the race-winning yacht Tre Sang but the next year his sailing changed to cruising in Petula, on board which he wrote the standard-bearer of yachtsman’s pilots; Harbour and Anchorage’s of the North Brittany Coast.
His character also had it’s humorous side as seen in his search for the Loch Ness monster and some of his more outlandish adventures. Towards the end of his life he lived in great contentment in Scotland where organic farming and the reinvention of agriculture methods and implements took charge.
He died peacefully in 1987........a true legend in the Royal Marines and a hero to all.
Books are available here is a selection
View attachment 236004
These are also good to look at and great reference as well
Continued in next post
Nap
