My memory of the next few days is confused. I did far too much driving without sleep, and because I had a certain skill in keeping vehicles on the road I led our small convoy until we drove into the northern port of Namsos. We had been attacked several times by German aircraft but even so the sight of a small port with every house destroyed was a shock. This was before the German advance through Belgium, France and Holland ending at Dunkirk. Apart from Poland the German power had not been observed and the use of Stuka dive-bombers was quite new. Their destructive capability and accuracy was well displayed for us. All the army vehicles and equipment that might have been serviceable to the enemy were burning. Anything not destroyed by the Stukas was being burnt by the army, including our ambulances. There was a single British destroyer moored at the quay and we were told to climb aboard as she was just leaving. I climbed up a boarding net that was hanging over the side while above me a large British sailor leaned over the rail. "Another brown job," he called. "We've got enough of you lot already, but welcome aboard anyway." With that he grabbed my battledress and heaved me bodily over the rail depositing me on the only square inch of deck space left. The rest of the ship was crowded with a mixture of British, French and Norwegian soldiers. All "brown jobs" so far as the navy was concerned. By the time I got myself to my feet we were sailing fast down the fjord.
We were on a tribal class destroyer called "Afridi" and as we turned into the fjord entrance we could see a French destroyer called "Bison" and a medium sized French troop ship called "Alcazar" lying there. The British sailors told us they wanted to unload us as fast as possible onto "Alcazar" because they were expecting the Stukas back any minute. While they were destroying Namsos it had been possible to work out exactly how long it took to rearm and refuel and they were now due back.
"Alcazar" was already severely overcrowded but we were forced on board somehow and the two destroyers moved off to take up their escorting positions. I found a tiny area of unoccupied deck under the staging supporting a pom-pom gun. The gun consisted of twelve heavy machine guns mounted altogether, to be trained and fired as short-range defence. The ship itself was in a very bad state. We had been able to smell it from some distance because there was no water for drinking and the pumps for supplying salt water had failed with the result that all the lavatories were totally blocked. There was no food though there seemed to be an abundance of rough red wine. This was contained in four-gallon jerricans, one of which seemed to be in the sole ownership of my pom-pom gun crew. I had just been offered an enamel mugful when the Stukas returned.
They came over the mountains to the south looking like a cluster of small, black crosses high in the sky. It soon became clear that "Bison" was their target. After circling for a minute or two half the planes peeled off and dived, one after another. "Bison" was about a mile away and when the upheaval caused by the bombs had subsided it was clear she had been hit. Within minutes she had gone down leaving many survivors in the water. The planes then made off and "Afridi" sent out rescue boats. They seemed to pick up all the swimmers, who were unloaded out of our sight further up the fjord. No sooner was "Afridi" back on station than the Stukas reappeared. This time they attacked both the destroyer and us. It was clearly "Afridi" they wanted to hit first, to silence her guns that were firing furiously. They quickly came within range of my pom-pom. It was then that I discovered why my spot on the deck had been unoccupied. After two or three bursts from the gun I was up to my waist in discharged cartridge cases. Some came off their belt but most stayed fixed to what became chains holding me down. Fortunately the French gunners saw my plight as a huge joke and climbed down from their firing position to extricate me.
By the time we were all sorted out we could see that "Afridi" had suffered at least one hit and was now moving only slowly. The bombers screamed down again and this time they scored one direct hit behind the funnel. It must have broken her back because both bow and stern rose high in the air and then the whole vessel slipped almost silently beneath the water. There were many swimmers and "Alcazar" lowered a launch that picked them all up. They were only a few yards away and were soon delivered to the quay further up the fjord.
For the time being the Stukas had disappeared, but we had little doubt that they would be back yet again. The feeling of inevitability and helplessness was very strong. There was a heavy cloud of mist obscuring the horizon to the west, but out of the mist we could hear a strange, thumping noise. "There's a big ship out there" said one of the gunners. "I only hope she's one of ours."
We then saw a sight rare even then, that will never be seen again. Out of the mist came a battleship, H.M.S "Warspite" going so fast that her bow wave completely covered her foredeck. Her guns were all trained to their highest elevation so that she looked like a hedgehog. Then she fired every gun at once with devastating effect. Everything about us shook and my ears hurt. The recoil made the whole battleship sink slightly, hesitate, and then charge ahead again. The sky was heavily pockmarked with exploding shells. All this in spite of the fact that the planes had disappeared! I think it was intended to boost our morale and it certainly did just that. Hats were thrown in the air, everyone danced around as far as the crowded deck allowed and we few British were clapped on the back by the crowds of Frenchmen surrounding us.
Then came the final gesture to underline the fact that, for the moment, we were safe. Out of the clouds to the west appeared one solitary "Hurricane" fighter. It flew round us several times and we could see the pilot sitting in shirt-sleeves waving back to acknowledge our expressions of joy and relief. Evidently our Captain then received orders to get going because "Alcazar's" engines began to make noises that were hardly reassuring but in the circumstances, very satisfactory. We began to make all speed for Scapa Flow.
I settled down to sleep. Sheer exhaustion, relief and, possibly red wine, produced a state of complete oblivion. I do not know how long the passage to Scotland took, but I felt very much revived as we entered the harbour and the sight of so many warships as well as a few liners was very reassuring.
"Alcazar" finally clanked to a halt and the English contingent were taken on a lighter to the largest and most handsome of the cruise ships. There then occurred one of those sudden changes of circumstance that do seem to happen in wartime.
Our small party were welcomed aboard, through the entrance door in the ship's side. There were few enough of us to have a luxurious cabin each. My steward summed up my condition at a glance. "Straight into the shower, Sir, and throw out your clothes." When I came out, rather cleaner, and dressed in a very expensive-feeling bathrobe, there was a cup of tea waiting. The steward suggested a short sleep while he dealt with my clothes, then he would show me to the dining room. I had not been out of my clothes for at least a week, and battledress does not lend itself to much smartening, but that steward somehow achieved it. As he put it, "It's a pity we have no ladies aboard, Sir."
I have little memory of the meal that followed, which is sad. I must still have been dazed by the extraordinary change in our fortunes. I do remember that it all took a long time, partly because we ate everything on the menu. When we really could eat no more, we called for the kitchen staff and cheered them loudly.
The meal that I do remember was breakfast the next morning. There was a long menu but one item stood out. "English bacon and egg breakfast." We all had it and felt that we must be very nearly home again. Sure enough, we docked in Glasgow a few hours later.
The final certainty that we were home came when I stood in the corridor of the train taking me south. Dawn was breaking and I suddenly became aware that the countryside was all green. After several months of looking at nothing but dark fir forests and white snow, the greenness of the fields and woods was quite wonderful. It was good to be back.