Hellfire Corner by Alaric Bond

Author:Alaric Bond [Bond, Alaric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Motor Gun Boats, E-boats, Wartime England, Dover, Naval action, RNVR, WW2, Coastal Forces, Royal Navy
ISBN: 9781943404285
Publisher: Old Salt Press LLC
Published: 2020-01-19T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The Met. report for the night of MGB 194’s first patrol actually spoke of low cloud and intermittent showers but, by the time Harris was preparing to lead his flotilla out into the Strait, rain was falling like stair rods. Their sea trials had gone reasonably well with the new men settling in better than anyone could have expected. Besides Pickering in the engine room, a Londoner named Cook was now Dowling’s loader. He looked every bit as young as his senior, but the pair handled their Oerlikon as if they had been born to it and were clearly melding as a team. Then Bishop, a hefty, yet quietly spoken, Black Country man had replaced Scott as their port gunner and was also acclimatising well. In truth, the gunnery practice had probably been the most successful of all exercises. Dowling and Cook worked together seamlessly throughout and though Bishop might have been initially reticent in speech he was positively eloquent with a twin point-five Vickers. He manhandled the thing as if it were part of him; Harris had rarely seen such good shooting. The more powerful weapon had obviously disconcerted Daly at the outset but soon he was also hitting his targets regularly and the Irishman seemed totally in charge by the end of working up.

And there was no doubting their new boat’s capabilities; in addition to the surge of raw power that could lift them onto the plane almost instantly, she also turned smoothly and could engage reverse in less than half the time of their previous vessel. Having a slightly longer hull also gave more stability and brought Harris’ thoughts back to his conversation with the armourer. Foredeck mounted cannon must soon be sanctioned, and the time could not come quickly enough for him. Now he had a craft that could comfortably match an E-boat for speed he wanted to at least equal them in firepower.

There would always be one significant disadvantage, of course; however close they came to beating German boats in other areas, the British still relied on petrol engines. The power-to-pound ratio may favour them in this, but any advantage was quickly wiped out by their fuel’s vulnerability. High octane petrol was simply too volatile for fragile craft and, when carried in the quantities needed to satisfy three thirsty engines, turned them into potential death traps.

But Harris was not thinking of his vessel’s shortcomings, and neither did he worry about the rain; there was more than enough to concern him that night without looking for further problems. And then he saw yet one more heading for them along the sodden jetty.

He was in company with a rating who looked anything but cheerful and both were half running through the deluge. But the seaman, clad in serviceable oilskins and seaboots, was purposeful and determined whereas the man, kicking up the tails of his fashionable raincoat as he went, merely looked ridiculous. One hand was holding down a Stetson hat, while the other clutched an umbrella close to his chest and, of all things, a gas mask bounced merrily from his shoulder.

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