Malta Story

By Royston Stewart
(ex BdSgt 1933-1949)

In September 2005, veterans who took part in the various convoys to Malta during World War 2 were invited by the Government of the George Cross Island of Malta to commemorate the 60th anniversary of the most famous of these convoys, “Operation Pedestal” (we lost eleven of the Band Service when HMS Eagle was sunk on that convoy).

Myself and two other ex Bandsmen attended, and whilst there met up with Ex Wing Commander RAF, author Colin A Pomeroy who told me he wished to edit a book with the lives of members of the Armed Services and Merchant Navy who took part in the various convoys to Malta. Attached is my story which Colin produced in full in his book “With All Modesty”. This will be published in three parts.

Royston Stewart
Ex Band Sgt Service 1933-1949

Part One

It all began for me early in the year 1933, as a 14 year old boy with a fair ability for violin playing arriving at the Royal Marines Eastney Barracks, Portsmouth, and reporting to the Sergeant of the Guard in the guardroom: “Sir, I have come to join.”

In the 1930s there was a great deal of unemployment and the country was endeavouring to recover from the economic problems resulting from the Great War and to be accepted into the Royal Naval School of Music, as today’s Royal Marines Band Service was then known, was to me a great accomplishment. I left Mother at the barracks gate with tears in her eyes after repeatedly asking me to change my mind about joining, but I insisted I wanted to be a Royal Marines Band Boy. The Sergeant, who to me looked about ten feet tall, looked down upon this five feet two inch school boy with his Father’s violin tucked under his arm and said, “Sonny was that your mother at the gate?” I replied, “Yes sir” to which he said, “You should have reported here at 9am and it is now 9.10am. Now this is the first and last time you will be late for parade.” Strangely enough I was never late again. There was a magistrate in the guardroom; I was taken before him and sworn in to serve King and Country for sixteen years. At this tender age all three Services (Army, Navy and Air Force) enlisted boys as recruits. I was given the King’s shilling and was informed that I would have to abide by the King’s Regulations and Admiralty Instructions for the next sixteen years.

The Royal Naval School of Music was based in Deal, Kent and was the establishment responsible for training future musicians for the Royal Marine Bands. Bands were not only provided for Royal Naval and Royal Marine establishments, but more importantly bands had to be provided for service on sixty-three larger warships of the British Navy: battleships, battle cruisers, heavy and light cruisers and aircraft carriers. In order to maintain so many bands ashore and afloat it was necessary to have facilities for the training of 400 Band boys aged from 14-18 years of age.

On arrival at Deal I was met by a Musician from the School who had many years of service and who was in charge of one of the many barrack rooms of Band Boys situated within East Barracks. On arrival at the barracks I heard the most amazing noise of 400 boys practicing their instruments within the barrack rooms. Three other boys, who had arrived with me from all over the country and I were taken to the cookhouse for a feed of sausage and chips. Some things you never forget!

One did not have to have knowledge of music to join the School. During the day after arrival you were fitted out with the uniform of a Royal Marine and taken before the Musical Director who then decided what musical instruments you were to be taught. I brought with me a cherished violin which had originally belonged to my father with instructions to take great care of it. I proudly produced for the Musical Director a certificate of merit obtained by me for a performance at Portsmouth Guildhall. He did not ask me to play but examined my hands and decided the smallest finger of my left hand was short and told me that there was a shortage of percussionists. I naturally thought violin instruction would also be included, but this was not to be. However, I was able to keep up violin practice in my own time until such time as in 1939 when the ship in which I was serving, the battleship HMS Nelson was entering the “Top Secret” anchorage Loch Ewe on the west coast of Scotland and was seriously damaged by a magnetic mine laid by Lt Hager on Submarine U-31. Nelson sustained 73 casualties, including one of the Bandsmen and one of the compartments of the ship, the band room, was flooded and consequently that was the end of my precious violin.

Life as a Band Boy commanded a weekly salary of four shillings and two pennies. You had to purchase green and white Blanco along with metal and shoe polish and also your toiletries to keep yourself and your equipment spotless. One other item of kit you had to purchase was a walking out cane which you had to carry at all times when leaving barracks and mingling with public. You were also to allocate one shilling each week to your parents so that when you went on Easter, Summer and Christmas leave you were not a financial burden to them.

As with all military establishments there was a set routine: 6.00am - a wake up call, 6.30am - make up your bed and breakfast, 8.00am - general parade in your best blue suit. We of course were responsible for the cleaning of barrack rooms and messing accommodation and each day two were detailed from each room for these duties and were excused from the morning parade.

I became a defaulter on one occasion when I was detailed for mess cleaning. Jack Payne, a chum who joined the same day as me, asked me if he could borrow my white belt for parade as he had not had time to properly clean his own. This was discovered when on parade all the boys were ordered to remove belts and the names on the back of each was examined against the wearer.

Punishment - Jack Payne seven days confined to barracks for borrowing, contrary to King’s Regulations and Admiralty Instructions. Royston Stewart seven days confined to barracks for lending, contrary to King’s Regulations and Admiralty Instructions.

Not a harsh punishment as it just meant you were not allowed outside the barracks unless on duty. (Jack was killed at the sinking of the battleship HMS Barham by U-331 off the Libyan coast on 25 November 1941.)
We used to quite enjoy Sunday Church Parades. The Boys’ Band of approximately one hundred boys paraded through the streets of Deal followed by the rest of the boys of the School. After the church service the Band used to march to South Barracks where the public were invited to be entertained by the Band. We then marched back to East Barracks which was our home.

Of course boys being boys and so many in ‘love’ with Deal girls, it was not unknown for some to jump over the barrack walls during evenings when they should have been in barracks. On arrival back they invariably found a duty Bandmaster or Band Corporal waiting for them - 14 days confined to barracks.

Part Two

We were like a large family and everyone knew everyone, but the great day came when you were drafted to your first Ship’s Band. Royal Marines Bands were employed in Warships not only for ceremonial duties such as Colours and Sunset (raising and lowering of flags), but also for the playing of National Anthems of countries visited and of various dignitaries coming on board. Other duties included entertaining the Ship’s company daily and using their expert knowledge of the working of the Ship’s gunnery transmitting stations which were the nerve centres controlling the gunfire of the main armament of Warships. When a Band was formed and ‘passed out’ by the Musical Director it would be sent to the Royal Naval Establishment at Whale Island near Portsmouth for gunnery training for the particular size guns of the Ship which the Band was joining. The number of musicians sent to a ship was dictated by the number required to man this particular gunnery station. A Light Cruiser required twelve, Aircraft Carriers and larger Cruisers required fifteen, whilst Battle Cruisers and Battleships needed seventeen to twenty four men.

The Royal Navy consisted of three main Fleets: Home, China and Mediterranean Fleets plus various squadrons such as the East Indies, West Indies and South Atlantic Squadrons. When sent to any of these Fleets one normally served a commission of two and a half years which meant one was away from home for that period unless you were lucky enough to belong to the Home Fleet which meant you were given Easter, Summer and Christmas leave within the home port to which that ship belonged.

No doubt everyone remembers well joining their first ship, so as a 16 year old I was fairly excited at the thought of joining HMS Emerald, a 6” gun Light Cruiser and on arrival I saw this beautifully white painted ship with yellow funnels which was the peaceful colour of ships of the East Indies Squadron. The Captain, Captain Agar VC, welcomed us aboard and a week or so later we sailed out of Chatham Dockyard on our way to the East Indies with the Royal Marines Band on the Quarterdeck playing that old popular music hall song ‘Goodbyee’. What a great new lifestyle and experience for a 16 year old: gunnery exercises and the playing of popular music for the Ship’s Company was daily routine, and to visit so many ports (Gibraltar, Malta, Suez, Aden) en route to our East Indies Station at Trincomalee, Ceylon, was unforgettable. On station we met up with the other two Cruisers HMS Norfolk and HMS Enterprise, who became opponents in all sporting activities. All three Ships carried a Royal Marines Detachment and Band. I loved swimming and was able to get into HMS Emerald’s water polo team. We took on and beat most other teams and were very sure of ourselves – in fact we were so sure of ourselves we were foolish enough to challenge the Ceylon police on a visit to Colombo. We then found out that men could ‘walk on water’, or at least these men appeared to do so, and we lost 35-nil. That took the wind out of our sails and we never challenged them again.

After 18 months and doing a good job ‘showing the Flag’ around that part of the Indian Ocean, Captain Agar summoned all the crew on the Quarterdeck and told us the wonderful news that HMS Emerald was ordered to return to Britain. Rudyard Kipling once wrote of a British soldier in India, ‘I’m sick of the Tamil and Tarter and these Heathens of idols and clay. This place is surely no place for yours truly to stay’, and I think that by this time most of HMS Emerald’s Company were feeling the same!

After leaving Port Suez and when half way to Malta we were instructed to turn around and go to Haifa to assist the Palestine Police as riots had broken out. Many of the police were British volunteers and, being a British Protectorate, Palestine was the responsibility of our country. Haifa was one of the Mediterranean Fleet’s Naval Bases and, when in port, there was little trouble between these people. However, the Fleet had gone to Gibraltar for manoeuvres with the Home Fleet and HMS Emerald was the only Warship in the area. We were able to assist the police for a few weeks until the arrival back of some of the units of the Fleet and then we were allowed to leave and continue our journey home. We were happy to see the white cliffs of Dover on our way to Chatham Dockyard, our home base. We were all awarded the Naval Palestine Medal, and this 17 year old proudly wore the medal ribbon when leaving the ship and returning to the School of Music.

By 1938 war clouds were hovering over Britain as Hitler’s Nazis overran other countries smaller than Germany. Three Bands of twelve musicians each were detailed from the School to pack their kit, and I was amongst those detailed. We did not know where we were going until we arrived at Deal railway station and caught the train to Plymouth. We guessed we were joining a Light Cruiser as there were three Bands of twelve, and on arrival at Plymouth Dockyward we saw three old First World War Cruisers (HMS’s Diomede, Delight and Dispatch) which could only be described as ‘rust buckets’. If there is to be a war, we all thought, for goodness sake give us something modern. Other than the Royal Marine Detachment and ourselves, these ships were manned by Naval rates who had been called up from Naval Reserves, and had mainly served in the First World War. Having survived that horror they were most upset at the thought of another. Such was the state of these ships, having been unattended for many years, that when we were put to sea for trials two of them had to be towed back whilst my ship, HMS Diomede, was never able to leave harbour; I understand a boiler blew up. We went down to the gunnery transmitting station and could not even get a communication with the guns crews.

At this time Prime Minister Chamberlain went to Germany and came back to this country waving a white piece of paper and assuring us that there would be ‘Peace in our time’. This was of course not worth the paper it was written on, and subsequently in September 1939 we were at war with Germany.
Thankfully, as the result of Chamberlains white paper, the three Bands were returned to Deal and I was drafted to one of our two most powerful Battleships with nine 16” and twelve 6” guns: the Flagship of the Fleet – HMS Nelson. We had an RM Band of twenty four, necessary for the manning of two gunnery transmitting stations within this powerful ship.

In August 1939 when it appeared that war with Germany was inevitable, many of the Navy’s capital ships were in Scapa Flow, the Naval Base in the Orkneys. Some 18 days before war was declared the mood of the times was caught by the entry in Nelson’s Log which read ‘0834 – Slip and proceed to sea. Preparing for War. Sea War Routine.’ On September 3rd, the day war was declared, a massive British Fleet was in the Atlantic Ocean, some 300 miles south of Iceland and searching the sea lanes between the Orkneys and Iceland for any enemy merchant ships which were trying to break through the lines in an attempt to return to Germany, and for the heavy German Warships which could wreak havoc on the transatlantic convoys.
Naval Operations in which HMS Nelson took part in up to Malta Convoy WS52IS Pedestal:

Between March 1941 and May 1942 we also escorted Convoys WS7, S175 and WS19P – all transporting troops to Africa. One of these conveys alone consisted of 23 ocean liners with thousands of troops destined for the war in Africa and the Far East and all three of these troop conveys were delivered without any loss.
As far as possible, and especially in the Mediterranean where the Italian Warships were a constant potential threat, conveys were escorted by our largest capital ships, trusting that their big guns would keep the enemy surface fleet in harbour. However, submarine attacks and wave upon wave of aircraft dropping bombs or torpedoes were a terrible threat, and during 1941 the Royal and Merchant Navies suffered great losses.
It is well known that many enemy informants kept observation on the British Fleet from mainland Spain, and many a ruse was carried out by the British when leaving Gibraltar to hoodwink those informants. Convoys would sail out into the Atlantic and return back through the Straits again when it was dark and catch up with, perhaps, slower Ships which had sailed eastward earlier. Admirals’ pennants, which normally meant that the senior officer in charge of the convoy was on the flagship, were switched from one Ship to another and the Ship sent on another course, or no pennants were flown at all. On one occasion on HMS Nelson we left Gibraltar and instead of manning our war cruising station we (the RM Band) were mustered on the quarterdeck and as loudly as possible played Sailing Home to Merry England – a very popular tune when Warships were leaving a foreign station for the last time. Needless to say, once again when we were out in the Atlantic we returned during the hours of darkness and caught up with one of the Malta-bound convoys!

In July 1941, as the result of damage to two Warships attempting to reach Malta, the two ships returned to Gibraltar with some 1,700 Army and RAF personnel on board who were badly needed in Malta. It was decided to mount an operation - code-named Style - a diversionary operation by the Fleet where HMS Nelson and other vessels sailed north of the Balearics to a point between Minorca and Sardinia and Destroyers and aircraft attacked Alghero in north west Sardinia. Meanwhile Force X, consisting of the cruisers HMS Arethusa and HMS Hermione, the fast minelayer HMS Manxman and accompanying Destroyers, put out before dawn on Thursday 31st July to make a dash to Malta with the troops and airmen. All were landed safely, together with 130 tons of essential supplies, and Force X left the same day to return to Gibraltar. No casualties were sustained and the only damage was to the bows of HMS Hermione as a result of ramming and sinking the Italian submarine Tembien off Pantelleria.

Part Three

Operation Halberd, which left on the morning of 25th September 1941, was one of the largest of the convoys and was divided into two groups: one consisted of HMS Nelson, two cruisers and six destroyers which would go straight down the middle of the Mediterranean as if on a normal ‘club run’ and to challenge Italian capital ships thought to be out on patrol. We were to keep well ahead of the second group, which was the main convoy which was escorted by two battleships (Prince of Wales and Rodney), four cruisers (Edinburgh, Euryalus, Kenya and Sheffield) and twelve destroyers – two of which were Polish and one Dutch. Additionally, the carrier HMS Ark Royal with a six strong destroyer escort and a tanker was in support. There were nine merchant ships in the convoy, the cargoes of each and every one of which were desperately needed in Malta, and 2,600 troops.

Three days out from Gibraltar, as expected, waves of attacking enemy aircraft arrived and, although aircraft from HMS Ark Royal did a first class job and disposed of some of them, many Italian torpedo bombers were able to get past them and through the shell barrages put up by the warships. Determined attacks by the aircraft developed and a number headed straight towards Nelson, and our luck eventually ran out and after many misses one torpedo finally struck the port side of the fo’cstle and did considerable damage. During these attacks such was the noise and vibration caused by the fire power from the ship I was not aware that we had been torpedoed until we developed a forward list. The damage control party managed to seal off the damaged compartments and we were able to maintain 18 knots and remain with the convoy. Members of the crew who would normally have been in the damaged compartments had previously been taken away for employment in another part of the ship and consequently there were no casualties. Halberd was a success and when we went into dry dock back at Gibraltar for temporary repair I was surprised to see that the hole in the side of the ship was large enough to have driven a single deck bus through!

By the first week in November, Nelson’s temporary repairs were almost completed, making her seaworthy enough to sail from Britain for a complete repair. In the meantime the aircraft carriers HMS Argus and HMS Ark Royal, accompanied by the battleship HMS Malaya and a number of destroyers, had set sail on an aircraft delivery mission for Malta, but when Malaya and Argus returned to the shelter of The Rock on 13th November we learnt that the Ark Royal had been torpedoed by U-81 and had sunk during an attempt to tow her back to Gibraltar by the tug HMS Thames. As we were just about to sail, it was decided that the crew from the Ark Royal would embark upon Nelson and accompany us back to the UK – an ecstatic thought for both ships' companies, as most of both crews had not seen Britain for at least eighteen months.

The convoy code named Pedestal is the most written about Mediterranean convoy, when the largest ever Royal Navy escort was assembled in the attempt to fight fourteen merchant ships through to Malta, including the battleships HMS Rodney and ourselves and the aircraft carriers HMSs Victorious, Indomitable, Eagle, Argus and Furious, seven cruisers, 33 destroyers, six corvettes, nine submarines and other smaller craft and support vessels such as oilers and tugs. Terrible losses were sustained by both the merchant and Royal Navies and I personally remember Pedestal as the convoy in which HMS Eagle was sunk by a German U-boat and the Band Service lost nine Musicians, some of whom were well known to me as we had been band boys together.

War is such stupidity and a terrible waste. Will politicians never learn?

Of course there was a lighter side to life and we were still bandsmen. At the outbreak of war the Royal Marine detachment on HMS Nelson was added to in order to bring it up to its strength for wartime conditions. In peacetime a number of Royal Marines were serving on the Royal Yacht and it was decided that they would be transferred to join us on the battleship. It would appear that a number of these Marines had been selected to serve on the Yacht – the Victoria and Albert III – because they could entertain the Royal Family as a concert party, so some of their acts were in fact first class and word soon got around that Nelson’s RM Band could produce a very entertaining show. When in harbour we did our best to entertain our own ship’s and other ships’ companies. In 1941, when we were based at Gibraltar as the Flagship of Force H, after returning from convoy duty and closed up at action stations for countless hours and looking forward to a run ashore and a rest, we found that the concert party was booked for any Army concert somewhere on The Rock because the Army personnel were bored!

I remember well one such concert we put on for Lord John Gort, who was Governor of Gibraltar in 1941 and 1942 before filling the same position in Malta, which he attended with a number of local dignitaries, together with a large number of Army personnel. We had a very good ventriloquist who performed with a sailor doll. At this time excavations were going on within The Rock and local residents were quite used to the explosions from within, and when there was a sudden and noisy explosion during the ventriloquist’s act, he suddenly shouted “F……Hell – What was that?” There was an instant silence as one did not use such language in front of ladies in those days; then suddenly there were roars of laughter from the Army and cheering and clapping. Lord Gort and his guests appeared to be quite amused and I am sure that most of the audience thought that it was the best act of the evening. We did get a ‘thank you’ from Lord Gort later, and no mention was made of the unwritten script!

When I left HMS Nelson I returned to the Band Service Headquarters at Deal and was put through a short promotion course and with others then formed another ship’s band, this time for the Royal Sovereign class battleship HMS Ramillies. However, although the band was ready, HMS Ramillies was not, for she had on a previous occasion been torpedoed and was to spend a few more months being repaired. It was decided that my band should be sent to HMS Cochrane, a Depot Ship at Rosyth Dockyard for the waiting period, which was wonderful news for me as my future wife Margaret was in the Wrens and stationed nearby. The bands’ only commitment during this period was to leave the dockyard each day and go to Rosyth and play for the members of the public at a local school, but far too quickly Ramillies arrived at Rosyth Dockyard and we were told that we had volunteered (you can believe that if you wish) to work beside another battleship, HMS Warspite, and a group of mine sweepers for a future special operation – which turned out to be Operation Overlord, the invasion of Europe. A Spitfire fighter plane was allocated to each of the battleships to report on the fall of shot of their 15” shells.

D-Day and onwards for Ramillies lasted a few weeks supporting the Army with classic naval gunfire support, and we then went around to support the American invasion of southern France, Operation Dragoon, which was another success story.

The war in Europe was ending and the old Lady Ramillies, her engines and guns worn out, was like a marathon runner at the end of a grueling race. She had done all that could have been asked of her during the last few war years of her life, and with such a sterling and successful last few months operating along the Normandy Coast and finally assisting the American Forces during their South of France landings, her days were numbered and her war was over. Now was the time (to the delight of the Ship’s Company) for her to return to Britain and to her Chatham for the last time, and so sadly to the ship breaker’s yard. With the end of the war for Ramillies came the end of my own war at sea, and in August I was pleased to see that my previous ship HMS Nelson was at Singapore to receive the surrender of the forces of Japan in that area.

So in September 1949, sixteen years after that schoolboy, with his father’s violin tucked under his arm first arrived at the Royal Marines Eastney Barracks I found myself with another six bandsmen at the Royal Marines Barracks at Chatham receiving our discharge papers, travel railway warrants home, civilian suits and Trilby hats. We stayed overnight and the next morning after a breakfast of sausage and chips, we all clasped hands, said our goodbyes and walked out through the gates of a Royal Marines Barracks as servicemen for the last time.

Every October in Portsmouth Cathedral the Royal Marines Band Service holds a Remembrance Service to remember comrades serving in warships during both World Wars who did not come home. I always feel these Remembrance Services are family occasions, and during them my thoughts are with the bandsmen who sailed and fought at sea, helping to achieve Victory but who, so sadly, did not come home.

Sixty Plus years on – but it seems like yesterday. We who served in those days remember our ships so well and the bandsmen who served in them. Joining at 14 years of age, growing up together, serving together and, on so many occasions, some making the supreme sacrifice together. I remember the peacetime competitions and navy regattas, ship against ship, band against band, all over our Empire from China to Scapa Flow and the runs ashore to play each other at football, water polo, hockey or whatever, whenever bandsmen met. When the Cathedral congregation is singing, I remember gunnery transmitting stations and great gun turrets of the battleships, cruisers and carriers in which we all served. The Malta convoys, Arctic convoys, Atlantic convoys, the various sea battles and bombardments, troop convoys, D-Day landing and those in the south of France.

In recent years, I have been invited to attend the Headquarters of the Royal Marines Band Service at HMS Nelson, Portsmouth, to have a chat with new Entries to the Band Service. They appear to really appreciate hearing of their history, although I hate to think that they consider me history!

The last time I attended such a chat, one young lad asked “What do you remember mostly about the war?” How does one answer that question? I could only reply. “We all have so many memories, but I thank God for the Companionship and Friendship of those men with whom I served during those troubled and terrible years. Many are not with us today, but we who are left will never forget them.”

They shall grow not old as we who are left grow old.

Twenty five years of satisfactory police service with Portsmouth City and Fifeshire Constabularies, followed by a ten year career with HM Customs and Excise, ending as a Customs Officer in Southampton Docks, completed my working days. I am now retired but keeping very busy.

I am so grateful for the sixty odd years I have been able to enjoy since World War Two, but so sad that so many of my schoolboy Royal Naval School of Music chums did not make it. I have been so very lucky.

Pt 1 added to site 12 April 2011 from Winter 2010 Blue Band Magazine
Pt 2 added to site 14 December 2011 from Summer 2011 Blue Band Magazine
Pt3 added to site 03 April 2012 from Winter 2012 Blue Band Magazine