Good Time in the Depths

Submarines of Britain's Royal Navy have sunk more than 1,250,000 tons of Axis shipping in the Mediterranean alone since war began. As commander of His Majesty's Submarine Safari, and other submarines, handsome, whimsical, young (29) Lieut. Richard Barklie Lakin, D.S.O., D.S.C., R.N., has had his share of kills. In his words, this is part of his story as he told it in New York City last week:

I chose submarine service because I was lazy. Submariners got more pay, and had more time in port. That appealed to me. I was navigating officer on H.M.S. Ursula [real name, use permitted by the British Admiralty], out five days on a patrol in the Helgoland Bight when war began.

"White Christmas." In 1941 I went as first lieutenant of H.M.S. Utmost. It was after the very first attack on a convoy that I was depth-bombed for the first time. None of us knew what to expect from a depth charge. They were most frightening. I remember standing, holding onto the brass ladder as these things went off. With the first few bangs there was a shower of the white cork which lines the hull to absorb moisture. We called the downfall a "white Christmas."

Our man on the ASDIC could hear the destroyer coming, coming, and he reported: "Destroyer closing, destroyer closing," and you knew sooner or later it would be over the top. Then you hear the sort of faint splash-splash of the propeller getting faster and faster. This is the most frightening time. You hear this thing going over and you wonder, "Has he dropped it now?" I forget how many depth charges were dropped, 40 or 50. I remember saying to myself: "This is hell, and I am not going to stay in submarines any more. I just can't take it." I looked around. The men were not very happy, and were wetting their lips a bit. Well, when we got back in harbor, we felt pretty good because we had sunk five ships of 20,000 total tonnage. We had a hell of a blind and plenty of hooch. After that, I was ready for the next patrol.

"A Very Nice Bang." I went back to my old submarine, the Ursula, in 1942 but this time as captain. Our first patrol was to cover one of the convoys to Russia. It was badly beaten up. The submarines were along to cover in case the Tirpitz and the Scheer came out. They did. A friend of mine in another submarine made a radio signal to say they were out, but those two great disappearers went right back in and we didn't see them again.

Submarines were chosen to act as beacons in the North African landing. We took position about ten miles from Oran to shine lights and guide the invasion fleet. It was a very easy job. Then we pushed north, off the Balearic Islands. One afternoon, creeping toward "Gib," my officer of the watch sighted what he thought was a distant aircraft carrier. On a closer look it turned out to be a submarine. My orders were like everyone else's: if you see a German U-boat, fire everything you have got. We had six torpedoes; we fired all and held our breath. There was a very nice bang at the end of the right time. Through the periscope I saw he had been hit just behind the conning tower and sank very quickly. It was quite fun; it gives you quite a kick. His stern sank lower and lower, and his bow came up out of the water, right straight up, and woof!

I was concerned with getting evidence. People always disbelieve you, particularly senior officers and particularly about submarines. I had to get a body; if you can get a body that is best of all. Next best, a bit of wreckage. If there are no bodies, and no wreckage, and there is a little oil on the surface, you bottle some of the oil, take it home, and they either prove it is diesel fuel or say it is something else. We couldn't get any evidence. But we got credit for the sinking and I collected a D.S.O. That is the standard payment for a submarine; a friend of mine has three.

"A Beautiful Blaze." In the Gulf of Genoa, I had marvelous orders. I was told to go out and make as much nuisance as I could. It had become quite a sport to shoot up trains; I had never tried it before. Somewhat southwest of Savona, we spent a whole day watching the railroad. Just after dark we got about 400 yards offshore. A train popped out of the tunnel and we fired. The first shell exploded just inside the cab where the driver was. Several of our shells hit the posts which carry the electric line. It was a 5,000-volt system. For about a mile there was a solid sheet of flame where the wires swung against the ground. The bushes and stuff were dry. They caught fire, and made a most beautiful blaze.

We went on to Maurizio about five miles away, where there was a large collection of olive-oil tanks. We went slowly into port, making no noise, with the gun manned, keeping a very good lookout in the darkness. I could see the Italians driving about in cars, and every now & then a chap would go by with his girl friend, smoking a cigaret. I could hear the dogs barking. It was all frightfully peaceful. I felt we were swine to interrupt it.

The third shot carried away a privy on the end of the pier, containing, I think, the night watchman. We hit the target about 25 times. We kept it up about a quarter-hour before the sleepy Italians realized somebody was shooting at them. They didn't do very much except fire some star shells seven miles out to sea. As we slid out they got a light on us. A couple of shells fell close. Next day they claimed to have sunk us.*

Escape and Reward. On another patrol we waylaid a convoy. It was bright moonlight and rather difficult to carry out an attack on the surface because eventually we would be sighted. I hadn't appreciated they were zigzagging. When I was just ready to fire, everything all set, the fellow I was attacking zigged straight towards me. I couldn't get deep quite soon enough and the ship ran over the top of us. It smashed both periscopes, and took away quite large chunks of the bridge. We snooped beneath the convoy until they had passed. We were lucky to be alive, I think. There was dead silence in the control room and one of the sailors got up and came to me and said: "Excuse me, sir, can I go to the lavatory?"

One of my last jobs in the Mediterranean was to serve as a beacon for the landing in Sicily. We had, as a kind of escort, a PC-boat. The Germans started to dive-bomb us, and old PC turned out to be a very enthusiastic man with his guns. He put up a very fine barrage.

We went towards Malta. We parsed two LCIs also going toward Malta. One of them wigwagged: "Am I right for Sicily?" They were lost. It staggered me that a fellow could be in an invasion and not know north from south. We set them right.

For taking part in this I got the [U.S.] Legion of Merit. I got it for having a good time.

* As a submarine commander on this and other patrols Lieut. Lakin sank 15 ships totaling about 25,000 tons. He took three prisonsers -- two Germans and a French-trained dog he decided to call Petain. All three came off the Sainte Marguerite II, which Lieut. Lakin described as "built in Dublin, sold to the French, seized by the Germans, sunk by me." Once Lieut. Lakin was under continuous attack by two destroyers for 38 hours.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.