HMS Sickle was now out of dry dock after having just undergone extensive repairs from a battering we had received a month or so before during an Aegean patrol, having been heavily depth charged. Unable to dive, we had traversed the complete length of the Mediterranean to reach Gibraltar which in itself was somewhat of a feat, as a submarine on the surface is very vulnerable and could be attacked by friend as well as foe, and often was.
As previously stated, we were now out of dry dock, repairs completed and our damaged batteries replaced. We were preparing submarine Sickle for seaworthy tests in the waters off Gibraltar, day exercises, deep diving, testing all compartments for leaks etc, before returning to the harbour of Gibraltar.
The submarine crew was eagerly looking forward to completing. Just one more patrol which qualified us to return with the submarine to England.
I was Petty Officer Seaman Second Coxswain responsible at diving stations for taking the submarine down, simply by turning a wheel that controlled the forward planes, giving us a downward diving movement.
I was also responsible for the outer shell of the submarine, loading torpedoes, ropes and wires required for coming alongside the harbour wall or jetty ('tying up', we commonly called it).
We had finished our exercise at sea and we were about to enter the harbour. I was on the upper casing with my berthing crew of sailors ready to go into action. Ropes and wires were ready to tie up the submarine at our allotted position. All was going extremely well as we approached the harbour wall. The Captain was just above us in the conning tower bridge, mainly responsible for the manoeuvre that brought the submarine alongside. We, my crew and I, were very satisfied with the neatness and proficient manner of our efforts in handling the ropes and wires as we came alongside the harbour wall to tie up.
On completion, I looked up to the conning tower, placing crossed forearms above my head, signalling to the Captain who was looking down waiting for my report. In a rather smug manner, I looked up to the Captain, saying "All tied up forrard, Sir".
The Captain glowered down; his peaked cap pulled down over his forehead. He then rebuked me shouting "Petty Officer Rose, bloody horses tie up, ships secure". I stood admonished.
We were now, in all regards, ready for sea, ready to return to Malta to complete our last patrol quota which qualified us to return to England. That very afternoon, final provisions were being stowed on board. I was busy checking and securing the outer shell of the submarine, looking for any loose fittings that could rattle and could give our position away, when our Signalman was making his way over the gangplank onto the submarine. He had visited the Senior Officer Submarines whose office was in the maze of man-made tunnels cut deep into the rock of Gibraltar. He, the Signalman, was returning with signal dispatches from Senior Officer Submarines with last minute orders, etc. (The tunnels mentioned were bomb proof.)
The Signalman was just about to go down into the submarine when he stopped, looked at me and with a very "keep this to yourself" expression on his face, informed me "You have got a draft chit", meaning that I was to be leaving the submarine.
I was to report to the Commander "S" (Submarines) for instructions. I was informed by him that I was wanted for special duties. Commander "S" said "Don't ask me any questions. I know, but can't tell what you are required for" (security precautions).
"Oh", he said as an afterthought "don't tell me that you have one more patrol in Sickle and then return to the UK".
So I was dismissed with "Report to the depot ship; I will call for you in due course so just WAIT". Waiting for what?
I waited and waited for about three weeks or so in the depot ship at Gibraltar, not one word from Commander "S". "What's going on?" I asked. No one could tell me.
Something then happened that really upset me. I heard news that "Admiralty regrets the loss of submarine Sickle. All crew lost, 50 in number". At a later date it was learned that submarine Sickle had been mined.
I was shattered and feeling rather numb and for a couple more weeks, just waiting, waiting for what?
News flash: "Radio reports of allied landings in France. It was D-Day 6th June, 1944.
A few days later I decided to visit the Commander "S" in his office to seek an explanation. "I'm waiting for…" I began as Commander "S" motioned me to a chair.
"Oh my God! What are you still doing in Gibraltar? We overlooked sending you back to the UK. You were to have been in command of a D-Day landing barge. Not enough officers, so Petty Officers were chosen to fill the gap and you were selected. Too late now but I will get you back to the UK immediately". He did that.
Submarine Sickle was the very last submarine to have been lost in the Mediterranean and recorded as such.
June 6th, Ironically the same day as I was to have been at D-Day beaches in extreme danger.
How I was spared was one matter.
Why I was spared remains unanswered.
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