Orders, Decorations and Medals

The Second World War Charioteer’s D.S.M. awarded to Ordinary Seaman A. F. Brown, Royal Navy, for an extremely daring and successful attack on enemy shipping in Phucket harbour in October 1944: it was only at the conclusion of the operation that Brown’s decision to hide the fact he was a non-swimmer was exposed, a truly shining example of turning a blind-eye to danger, not least since the enemy had made it be known that such raiders would indeed be blinded if captured - and be castrated for good measure

Distinguished Service Medal, G.VI.R. (O.S. A. F. Brown, PM/X. 94817), extremely fine £4000-5000

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, The Ron Penhall Collection.

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D.S.M. London Gazette 6 March 1945:

‘For great courage, daring and devotion to duty whilst serving in H.M. Submarines in the Far East.’

Albert Frank Brown appears to have entered the clandestine world of “charioteering” in the course of 1943, mention of him being selected for a raid on the Italian Fleet at Taranto in August of that year appearing in Warren and Benson’s history of midget submarine and human torpedo operations (Above Us The Waves). Due to intelligence being received of the imminent Italian capitulation, however, this particular operation was cancelled just two days before zero hour.

We next find Brown engaged in training on Mk. II “Chariots” at Trincomalee, Ceylon in May 1944, and, having completed a jungle-training course, he was selected to participate in an attack on the Japanese supply ships Sumatra and Volpi in Phucket harbour, at the entrance to the Malacca Strait, in October 1944. Teaming up with Petty Officer W. S. Smith as his No. 1, and another chariot team comprising Sub. Lieutenant A. “Lofty” Eldridge, R.N.V.R. and Petty Officer S. Woollcott, he sailed in H.M. Submarine Trenchant on 22 October, the two chariots being secured to the submarine’s port and starboard saddle-tanks. In addition to their cumbersome diving suits (better known by those who had to use them as the “clammy death” suit), the raiders were equipped with a ‘.38 revolver and ammunition, local currency, a small bag of 25 gold sovereigns, a silk map, a small dagger, needle and thread for sewing up wounds, compasses, hacksaw blades, a watch, a tablet of poison and a Siamese blood chit’. All four of them, however, decided not to take along any of the repulsive smelling “shark scaring” ointment that was among the recommended extras - it having been agreed that the chariots and the ‘grotesque figures’ riding them would be quite sufficient to frighten the hell out of any such underwater threat.

Trenchant, under Lieutenant-Commander A. R. “Baldy” Hezlet, R.N., reached the charioteers’ drop-off point - a position six and a half miles to seaward of their target area - on the morning of the 28th, and throughout the remainder of the day the four raiders were able to study the Sumatra and Volpi through the Trenchant’s periscope, although Brown’s target, the latter ship, was less easy to make out, as she was lying farther in, right at the extreme end of the waterway, thereby confirming the unhappy fact that he and Smith would have to undertake a much longer journey than Eldridge and Woollcott. On a brighter note, the Volpi was partly submerged and undergoing salvage, so the prospect of an alert enemy crew was greatly diminished - most likely she just had one or two sentries. At 10 o’clock that night, the two chariots and their ‘grotesque figures’ set forth for Phucket harbour, Smith and Brown having christened their own Mk. II the “Slasher”, in honour of Commander G. M. Sladen, R.N., the founding father of the Navy’s human torpedo programme. Above Us The Waves takes up the story:

‘Sitting astern of Smith, Brown was happily connecting himself to the machine’s oxygen-supply. Then came the trim-dive, which went well enough as far as Smith and the chariot were concerned. But for Brown things were not plain sailing. As soon as they submerged he felt water coming in through the vent in the headpiece, and within a few minutes he was flooded from feet to neck. This did not worry him very much until he had to dismount to secure the warhead, which Smith had noticed working loose. He had to keep a very tight grip on the securing-gear to prevent himself plummeting to the bottom ... ’

Notwithstanding these initial operational blows, the intrepid pair continued on their way, and after having gone about three miles they were able to distinguish their target in the distance. Smith was at this stage concerned by the phosphorescene that the chariot’s propeller was throwing up, but before too long it was time to dive, the chariot travelling around 400 yards at a time underwater, before coming to the surface to check progress and course. Both men were further disturbed by the effects of strong cross-currents, but by a process of trial and error they got into a position to commence their final approach to the Volpi from 300 yards range and at a depth of about 20 feet. Above Us The Waves continues:

‘The intention was to place the charge vertically under the centre-line of the ship, as near as possible on the engine-room plates, but on sinking slowly to forty feet they both realized that with the position in which the ship was wedged they would never manage to get themselves or a charge underneath her. Partly to think again, partly to try another run-in for luck, they withdrew.

They kept deep on the next attempt, but their luck was no better. Brown dismounted and went for’ard to have a look at the ship’s side, moving slowly past Smith and past the warhead. The water was so dark that before he had gone four feet from the nose of the chariot he was completely out of sight of Smith. In a few minutes’ time he was back, to indicate by signs that there was no hope of securing the charge to the ship’s side, owing to the barnacles being so numerous and so firmly stuck. This was disappointing, but there was nothing to be gained by stopping where they were, so with the main ballast slowly blowing they crept up the side of the ship towards the surface. At fifteen feet they came to a deck, where Smith stopped the ascent for Brown to dismount for a third time on the trip. This time he took the charge with him and soon had it lashed to one of the deck-fittings and the pin out of the time-setting clock. But before he could turn away the lashing parted and he had to grab the charge again and struggle with it across the deck. The fuse-clock was ticking away as he negotiated a series of steps down into an engine-room and placed the charge where it could not move.

If it were eerie in that lonely, submerged engine-room Brown never mentioned it in his subsequent report. Perhaps he was too pre-occupied with his several personal discomforts. To start with, his suit was full of water and one of his hands was bleeding badly from a cut sustained when he half stumbled with the charge. A further fall had torn open his headpiece and gashed the top of his skull. He could feel his hair, sticky with blood, through the hole in the rubber. However, as he made his way up the engine-room ladder and across the deck to where he knew Smith to be waiting he was able to reflect on the big bang he had left behind him ... ’

The charioteers’ usual routine for departing the scene of the crime was a long dive, for about a mile, at a depth of about 10 or 15 feet, so that was the course taken by Smith when Brown returned to the chariot after an absence of 20 minutes. But after making just a few yards of progress into their return journey, Smith experienced serious trouble with his breathing gear, and was forced to surface at speed - ripping open his visor and disengaging his mouth-piece, he realised his mouth had been badly burned by soda-lime leaking from a canister. Their position now looked perilous in the extreme, for they now had no other choice but to complete the return journey on the surface - at full speed. The Gods were on their side:

‘They had been proceeding in this fashion for about ninety minutes, and the time was between 2 a.m. and 3 a.m., when they sighted Trenchant some forty yards away. They had been dead on course. The next moment a dark shape appeared to port and proved to be “Lofty” Eldridge’s machine. Things could not have been better.

Hezlet quietly ordered them to scuttle the chariots close to the saddle-tanks and then swim the remaining few yards to come aboard. Obediently, Smith opened everything up and they could feel “Slasher” - named in memory of Sladen - sinking beneath them. Smith let himself float clear, and then felt Brown grab one of his legs and hang on for dear life. This hampered Smith’s swimming - especially as, with his visor open, he was not in a condition to submerge - and he was glad of the line thrown to him from the sub’s casing. As soon as they were aboard they were hustled below, and Hezlet had the ‘plugs pulled out’ in double quick time.

Brown’s suit was almost bursting open with the weight of water inside it, but his wounds proved superficial and he soon recovered. Over a cup of coffee he explained to Smith the reason for the frantic grab at one of his legs. Brown was a non-swimmer. The mystery was that he had managed to conceal the fact through the best part of three years of diving. When McCarter heard of this he was highly amused, but nevertheless took the opportunity of having Brown taught to swim at the earliest possible moment. Back in Trenchant there was an air of satisfaction, and the four divers, after a brief comparison of notes, were packed off to get a few hours’ sleep.

They were called again at 5.30, half an hour before the charges were due to go up. Punctually Eldridge’s and Woollcott’s target disintegrated, to be followed five minutes later by Smith’s and Brown’s. They were all allowed frequent peeps through the periscope to see the effects of their handiwork. The two explosions were quite different. The first was a sharp crack, and the vessel seemed to move upward. The second was considerably duller, and seemed to expend its energy horizontally outward.

There the story virtually ended. Trenchant continued on patrol for a further three weeks, much to the delight of the charioteers. During this time Hezlet was able to make a successful attack on a convoy and the boat was subjected to depth-charging. On return to Trinco reports were submitted, and the four men went on leave to a rest-camp in the hills. When they returned to join the other teams they found them packing for home. Authority had decided against further chariot operations in the Far East ... The Commander-in-Chief had said that he would not be responsible for sending men on operations where return might not be possible and when it was known that all men captured would immediately lose both eyes and testicles ... ’ (Above Us The Waves concludes).

Sold with an original wartime photograph of Brown’s “Chariot”, together with a letter written by him in August 1988, in which he describes his exploits (‘I got aboard with 11lbs. of T.N.T. with half of the torpedo, with the clock still ticking and liable to go off at any time, with my head and hands bleeding. I got the charge down into the engine-room and put another three hours on the clock to go off at 7 a.m. and made my way back out in the darkness without being seen ... ‘); together with a photocopied letter of reference from his C.O., Captain J. E. Slaughter, R.N. (‘The qualities required for service in these craft [“Chariots”] are a cool and steady nerve, very high physical fitness, determination and a thorough knowledge of techniques’); together with a modern picture depicting Brown in his underwater gear and his chariot Slasher.

Provenance: Ex Sotheby’s, 10 November 1988 (Lot 150), when consigned by the recipient.