HMAS Sydney II

In light of the 60th anniversary of the end of World War II I refer to notes by my father as he describes the last days of HMAS Sydney. The Sydney was sunk on 19 November 1941 with the loss of all hands.

It was from the mine sweeper Olive Cam stationed at Fremantle in the second year of the Second World War that I was drafted to the Sydney, a cruiser in the Australian Navy. She was the pride and joy of the Navy Board at the time after sinking the Italian battle cruiser Bartolomeo Colleoni in the Mediterranean. I was at that time Able Seaman in the RAN drafted with a potential batch of Leading hands and Petty Officers and we were drafted to the Sydney as Cruiser time was an essential part of any sailors promotion. I was assigned to the main deck; built up on the main deck was the four inch handing deck. This was aft and was my cruising station. My mess was the fore top mess in the main deck. My first impression was one of awe at the firepower of the ship. It was colossal. The only visible thing that disturbed me was that due to being two years overdue for a refit the four inch gun deck lifted about a foot, it seemed to me, when the guns were fired – however this didn’t seem to have any impact on the accuracy Dawn stand to was war time routine. This meant everybody had to man action stations at 0500 in the morning ready to go into action. If I was on watch in my cruising station I would wait until the gun crew fell in and then I would go to my action station which was in the four inch handing room. This was a small room below deck about 10 x 10 feet chock a block with four inch shells. In action, these shells were assembled and placed on a conveyor belt and moved to the four inch gun deck. Forward and aft were the six inch turrets. Depth charges were fired from aft and midships and we practiced firing guns, torpedoes and depth charges all the time. There were about eight of us off the various sweepers went onto the Sydney when I did. One was my mate Tony Heritage, also from the Olice Cam Our watch was four on eight off. It was very hot in the crowded mess and very hard to sleep. The engines were noisy but one became accustomed to the steady hum and woke up whenever the engines stopped. Suspicion of submarines in the area was one reason silence was needed. The first escort we did was with a convoy to Bombay where we handed over the convoy to a British cruiser, I think it was the Dorsetshire, and then returned to Fremantle, our home port. Radio silence was broken on the way back and we were told that the Queen Mary and other ships were headed for Fremantle. The buzz was that mines had been layed in the channel which starts about fifty miles out to sea off Fremantle. We went full speed ahead to try and catch her. She was 24 hours ahead of us and we both got to the channel at the same time. The Sydney had gone about 33 knots which vibrated her from stem to stern but my memories are that she was quite seaworthy. AFter leaving the Mary we had gunnery practice on the four inch guns and pom poms which are small guns amidships and at various places through the main deck. We went to other side of Rottnest for this practice, There were four or five other ships in theis manouvre. The other ships left the practice when it was finished and went into anchorage at Gage Rodes where another convoy was forming up. We went to the other side of Rottnest, through the south channel that was used by the fishermen to get to the snapper beds. We were sneaking along to get to the other side of Garden Island to try and surprise the Z Force commandos who were in training there. We stopped at a certain point to catch them and found they had us surrounded. They were very smart. With the exercise complete we returned to Fremantle and Mum and Beryl (my mother and elder sister..K) After this we were sent on a Glamour cruise which was under a recruiting programme. We went to Geraldton and went ashore one night, returned to Fremantle then off to Bunbury where I saw Uncle Albert and Aunty Linda. Back to Fremantle and after we fueled up and watered each watch got shore leave so we spent three days there as there was about 680 officers and men. We then went to sea again looking for enemy ships then onto Albany to pick up and escort the Zealandia who was due from Adelaide. The Zealandia left the convoy and came under our protection. We arrived at Albany early so about fifty badge men were given two hours leave. I nearly missed the liberty boat but made a dramatic jump from the Jacobs ladder and landed neatly on the tail end grating to the delight of the other matelots. They later told me even the skipper cheered. On the way to pick up the Zealandia lookout spotted a beached mine at Frenchmans Bay. A demolition squad was sent to destroy it. They did and brought back some small pieces and I asked the officer for a piece. He asked “What For?” I replied, “I’ve been chasing mines for eighteen months and this is the nearset I’ve been to one”. He gave me a piece. We continued on and finally the Zealandia came into view . I was on watch, it was early morning and I had the night glasses. A voice behind me said; “What is it?” I said “I think it is a tramp…the Zealandia but I can’t say for sure as it is blurred.” He reached over my shoulders and took the glasses. He said, “Can’t you identify her? I can even read her name” Well I couldn’t and when I turned around I saw it was the Surgeon Commander who had been treating me for severe headaches since I had been in Singapore in 1940 on the Angelo Muresk, a Norwegian ship we had escorted to Singapore. He told me to report to him at our first port of call.

A tropical insect had entered my Father’s ear and had done nerve damage that dogged him for all of his days with severe neuralgia. In the 50s a botched operation severed more nerves in an attempt to control the pain that in fact magnified it. He was eventually unable to work and was deemed Totally and Permanently Incapacitated (TPI) by the Repatriation Department, now known as the Department of Veteran’s Affairs . As an aside, in the eighties I started having problems with sleeplessness, loss of strength and pain in my upper limbs. The doctors eventually identified a tropical insect that had entered my body in 1970 and had laid dormant for 15 years. I could follow it’s path, a red line, as it came to life and travelled under the skin in my arm. A disturbing feeling but my beastie was killed by modern drugs before it did any permanent damage – Dad’s wasn’t. Back to mid November, 1941.

We escorted the Zealandia without incident at a painful five knots to Fremantle. Before we entered Fremantle a buzz went around that there would be no shore leave – just refuel and water – as there was a French cruiser hanging around the West Coast. The French at this time had given into Hitler. On arrival on Sunday at Fremantle, after Church Parade, I was piped for along with ‘Fanny’ Adams. We had to report to Sick Bay and were both got sent ashore and as far as I know we were the only two to come off the Sydney that Sunday morning. While we were sitting in the ambulance with the back door opened we saw six ratings from the depot Leuwin go aboard with all their gear. There was one very tall lad who had to bend down to get through the torpedo space. I’m six foot tall and I just made it so he was well over six foot. Poor man, he never got out of it. This was the first time these draftees had been to sea and for them, the last.

The tall lad and 644 of his shipmates have less than three days to live.

We left for the depot and from Leuwin we watched the Sydney sail never to get back to her home port. The refeuling crew came back to the depot with the buzz that security had been so tight that the officers off the Sydney had to do the refeulling. Dr Maitell sent both Fanny and myself to a convalescent home for two weeks and on the way there the truck driver let me stop off and tell my wife that I was off the Sydney. It was just as well for her peace of mind as by Wednesday the news had broke that the Sydney was gone In this fortnight men from the eastern states who had been on leave arrived to rejoin the Sydney only to find that she had sailed in a hurray taking the Zealandia to Singapore. It was on the return journey that she was lost. These men, and Fanny and myself were still on the Sydney’s books and we still had our Sydney talisbands on our caps. When we returned to the depot and went on leave people we met and knew in the streets thought there had been survivors. This was very sad to us and we asked the First Lieutenant to give us leave to remove our talibands. This was granted and we replaced them with Leuwin bands. I was now put on driving the staff car and one day Naval Intelligence sent for myself and Fanny Adams – we were to sit in on interviews with the German survivors of the Kormoran. There were Air Force and Army officers as well as Navy officers present. We were asked our thoughts but could not offer much however the German survivors seemed to think there should have been some survivors off the Sydney. There has been a lot of stories over the mystery of the sinking of the Sydney and maybe the real truth will never be known but I am glad I never went down with her for two of my children would never have been born.

Being one of those children, I am particulary glad.

I have written this so that they will know all I know of the Sydney in the short time I was priviledged to sail in her and know that for once I was glad to have a headache. L.A.Gillett ex F72839, RAN November, 1941

The posting of this story, the words of my father from 64 years ago, was prompted by an article in the Weekend Australian. The mystery will never die and relatives will never be able to close a tragic part of their lives. 645 young Australians dead in one afternoon needs an explaination. The story of finding the Sydney can be found here. In 1995 I related this story to a friend who, out of the blue said, I know the other guy. He lives in Brisbane, is in his eighties and has a couple of beers at my local bowls club. I was incredulous but he gave me a tele number and I phoned. Fanny Adams answered and as soon as I said I was Kev Gillett, he said “How’s Les? In deference to his age,I offered to come and pick him up and bring him to my home to meet my wife and family. He declined and drove himself to my place. He come armed with photos and stories that had my children spellbound with this living proof of a part of their grand fathers life . It was a memorable afternoon. I phoned my mother and handed the phone over to Fanny. He and Mum had a chat that crossed the 40 plus years like quicksilver. There exists in the Returned Servicemen’s Community a disorder known as Survivirs Guilt as in why did I survive and my mates didn’t?. It is a real problem and I, myself exerience it from time to time. Can you begin to imagine my fathers tortured mind over this incident. The ‘Tall Lad’ who had trouble negotiating the torpedo space stayed in my Father’s mind forever. To the best of my knowledge he never went to an ANZAC day parade and my mother said every time he thought about it he cried. My father went on to serve in Darwin for the remainder of the war and had many an adventure dodging Japanese bombers and fighters. He lived untill 77, fathered four children and umpteen grandchildren. Even though he never went to an ANZAC Day parade while he was alive, he does now. I march every year and in quite moments refer to wearing Dads medals as taking him for a walk down Queens Street, Brisbane. We have a beer afterwards and salute the brave souls of the Sydney And a man who Dad’s beloved ALP put up as an alternative Prime Minister says;

I detest war and the meatheads who volunteer to kill other human beings.

Well Mark. Here’s a story about one of those meatheads and if I were you I would stay well away from Brisbane. I am not kindly disposed to your filth.