Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

A fine Great War anti-U-boat operations D.S.O. group of six awarded to Commander S. A. G. Hill, Royal Navy, who was also among a handful of British officers to receive the American Navy Cross

Distinguished Service Order, G.V.R., silver-gilt and enamel; China 1900, no clasp (Midsn. S. A. G. Hill, R.N., H.M.S. Dido); 1914-15 Star (Lt. Commr. S. A. G. Hill, R.N.); British War and Victory Medals (Commr. S. A. G. Hill, R.N.); United States of America, Navy Cross, very fine and better (6) £2500-3000

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, Exceptional Naval and Polar Awards from the Collection of RC Witte.

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D.S.O. London Gazette 7 June 1918.

Sidney Arthur Geary Hill was born in London in August 1881, the son of a Colonel in the Royal Engineers, and entered the Royal Navy as a Cadet in Britannia in January 1896.

Appointed a Midshipman in January 1898, he witnessed active service off China in H.M.S. Dido during the Boxer Rebellion in 1900 and, in the period leading up to the Great War, was regularly employed on survey duties, including work undertaken off New Zealand and Borneo.

A Lieutenant-Commander by the outbreak of hostilities in August 1914, he joined the armed merchant cruiser Armadale Castle and thereafter, until February 1917, was actively employed on the Cape of Good Hope Station, latterly as her C.O.

Next appointed to the command of the sloop Jessamine in March 1917, he remained similarly employed until the War’s end, and was awarded the D.S.O. for the destruction of the enemy submarine U-104 in April 1918, when the C.-in-C. Queenstown noted that ‘the conduct of all concerned on this occasion deserves much praise, and showed that the ship was well organised and disciplined and ready to act as soon as an opportunity occurred.’

Keble Chatterton’s Beating the U-Boats takes up the story:

‘It was between 1 and 2 a.m. of 25 April 1918, that U-104 motored along the surface, using both engines, and charging her batteries simultaneously. Smooth sea, a bright moon illuminating the water, visibility moderate, speed about 10 knots. But, admittedly, a poor lookout was being kept. The old story - a well-built vessel with an indifferent crew. For by that date Germany’s naval discipline had rapidly begun to get worse, no longer were volunteers easily persuaded into her U-boat service. Mass production at the shipyards did not synchronise with the supply of well-trained soldiers.

Now in the neighbourhood patrolling, but keeping an eager vigil, steamed H.M.S. Jessamine, technically designated a sloop. Actually these single-screw ships - all named after flowers - were small, light cruisers, built originally for minesweeping, though employed for a dozen purposes. Her captain, Commander S. A. Geary-Hill, R.N., had always maintained his crew on the ‘top line’ and a sort of affectionate awe existed between the Commander-in-Chief at Queenstown (Admiral Sir Lewis Bayley) and his ships. Officers and men would rather have perished than be found wanting in an emergency.

Suddenly about half a mile off the port bow Jessamine’s Officer-of-the-Watch, Lieutenant Marshall Reay, R.N.R., spotted the submarine’s shape, wasted no moment, rang down the engine-room telegraph to ‘Full Ahead,’ pressed the bell for action stations, altered course to ram the enemy with a knock-out blow.

Obviously Bernis’ craft ought to have been on the alert and see what was coming, but not till only 500 yards separated the rivals did the Germans realize their peril and next sound the alarm inside. Then everybody woke up with a start. Altering direction eight points (90 degrees) to starboard, she began diving to 98 feet before this could be accomplished; whilst her periscope was just submerging, the sloop gained the U-boat’s starboard side and dropped four depth charges in quick succession.

The first exploded near the enemy’s stern, forcing her up aft. The second detonation drove the stern down and down, so that the gauge indicated 164 feet, and things looked ugly. Into the motor room the sea poured, short-circuiting motors, putting them out of action, forcing the air forward as if by an hydraulic ram, terribly accentuating the pressure till the Germans could scarce breathe.

That second depth-charge had closed the watertight door at the after end of the bow torpedo-room, but the air pressure continued to rise, being forced through voice-pipes and leads in the bulkhead. When the third explosion burst, an attempt was made to blow all ballast tanks. But because the after tanks had become damaged, only the forward ones could be emptied and thus the stern was depressed further.

So the bows rose to a depth of 32 feet, and the steep inclination made life on board one slippery slope. Discipline vanished, men crowded round the torpedo hatch, it was everyone-for-himself, and get away if he possibly could.

Now, after dropping her last depth-charge, Jessamine swung to port and by this time the submarine had created in the water a large disturbance some 200 yards away. To make additionally sure, the sloop therefore fired her foremost gun at this eddying; then began circling around at high speed in readiness for the U-boat’s return to surface, but cries for help rose instead, followed by large quantities of oil welling up. After a while the Englishmen sighted a German, rescued him still alive, and found him to be Engine-room Petty Officer Karl Eschenberg, aged 22, and he had a thrilling story to relate.




Whilst his shipmates were crowding round the torpedo-hatch, Eschenberg succeeded in opening it, then came the inrush of water which swept the former aside whilst the power of escaping air forced him up and up through the hatch on to the sea’s surface. At first the Jessamine could not descry him, but he had the sense to remove his clothing before commencing to swim. Dazed, but still conscious, he was at last picked up and hauled aboard the sloop where every attention of food, warmth and medical skill restored him to full health.

Until daylight the Jessamine cruised about searching the region for any more survivors, but Eschenberg alone had come up out of the 39 who left Wilhelmshaven. To Commander Geary-Hill the King gave a D.S.O., and to Lieutenant Marshall Reay, a D.S.C. Such was the rewarding of constant vigilance. Lack of this sent Kapitan-Leutnant Bernis with his officers to their doom.’
 
Hill, who had been advanced to Commander in December 1917, was also awarded the American Navy Cross (London Gazette 16 September 1919 refers), for he often operated out of Queenstown alongside U.S.N. destroyers.

Placed on the Retired List in the rank of Captain in December 1927, after undertaking further survey work in the Endeavour off Africa in the interim, he became a Naval Assistant in the Hydrographic Department and was re-employed in that capacity on the renewal of hostilities. The Captain died in March 1953.