Death: HMS Cassandra was hit by a torpedo from U-Boat U-365 (U-365 was sunk two days later)
Address / Local links: 35 West Heath Road, Abbey Wood
For Charles Edward Arthur Clarke, the icy northern waters off the coast of Russian Murmansk in December were a far cry from working as a gents tailors salesman in and around Welling – but this is where he was lost, serving onboard HMS Cassandra and the arctic convoys…
HMS Cassandra
“H.M.S.Cassandra was a ‘C’ class destroyer, completed in July 1944. She was allocated to Arctic convoy duties with the 6th Destroyer Flotilla.
On 10 December 1944 she left Murmansk, escorting twenty eight ships on the return leg from Russia. Just before six o’clock next morning she was torpedoed by a German U-boat, and 62 crewmen, whose names are recorded on this plaque, (in Portsmouth, pictured), lost their lives.
Despite her bow being completely blown away, H.M.S.Cassandra was towed back to Kola Inlet.
She returned to home waters in 1945 and continued in service until 1967.
Service in the Arctic convoys carrying military supplies to Russia was probably the most arduous and unpleasant task given to any ship during the Second World War. In appalling weather conditions, the convoys were within range of German Aircraft, surface ships and U-boats, and long hours of daylight meant there was no respite from attack. Nevertheless the convoys provided vital support to sustain the Soviet struggle against Germany on the Eastern Front, which made possible the successful Allied invasion in the West in June 1944”.
Most of Charles’ crewmates survived the U-Boat attack, and one – Ordinary Seamen Dudley John Mills – later wrote an account of the incident: “Cassandra, in company with some other escorts, put to sea from Polyarno, late at night on Saturday 9 December, to carry out an anti-submarine sweep of the Kola Inlet in advance of the main convoy’s sailing.
All went well until the early morning of Monday 11 December. Luckily, I had the morning watch and had been closed up in the Charthouse since 0400 hours as assistant to AB Parry, the Navigator’s Yeoman. The Navigating Officer, Lt. F. Hope RN, had come into the compartment a few minutes before 0600 hours, when suddenly at 0602 hours there was the sound of an almighty clang, but deadened and not resonant, as if a huge muffled hammer had struck a metal plate. At the same time the ship gave a mighty lurch and I was flung against the frame supporting the Loran PPI radar set, getting only a very slight cut on the nose, together with a large lump.
The Captain, Lt. G.C. Leslie RN, grabbed his cap and dashed for the bridge. There was a slight trickle of water dripping down on to the plotting table cover from the binocular bridge-viewer above, probably the seals had distorted. I was alone in the Charthouse and suddenly a voice, probably from Caprice came over the TBS radio link saying: Cassandra has been torpedoed. This was my first indication of what had happened. I certainly heard no explosion, only the clang. Miraculously the ship remained on an even keel and the lights kept on. It was pitch dark outside at that time of day in the Arctic in midwinter. There seemed no reason for me to remain in the Charthouse for the moment so I made my way out on to the bridge wings to see what was happening. The bridge itself was a hive of activity, centred on the Captain, Lt. Leslie, R.N.
The fighting lights on the yardarms had been switched on and there was some spectacular arking at the rear of the director tower where a transmitting aerial, parted by the whipping of the ship, was dangling against the steelwork, and suddenly the whole scene was brilliantly illuminated by a ‘snowflake’ flare fired by another ship, perhaps Caprice, making us a “sitting duck” as we lay there in the confused sea with engines stopped. Looking forward, I could see that the blast shield on ‘B’ gun deck had been bent back and forced up into a vertical position, but the most astounding thing was that there was nothing beyond. No fo’c’stle, no bows, no ‘A’ gun. Everything had completely disappeared; there was just the sea foaming in the harsh magnesium light. The ‘snowflake’ burned out and the scene was plunged into darkness again except for the fighting lights. I went back into the Charthouse, shaken to the core.
A little later AB Parry (right) came in having been ordered to collect the chart from the automatic plot. The ships position at the moment of impact was clearly marked by a splodge of ink where the stylus had jumped with the shock. Cassandra had been torpedoed in position 71.52N, 33.12E. Gradually the realisation dawned that we must have sustained some casualties, and probably some fatalities, in view of the amount of damage, but there was little time to think of such things as all spare hands were turned to help out. At one stage I found myself staggering to the guardrails and dropping 4-5 inch fixed ammunition into the sea as we jettisoned shells from the after ready-use lockers; it was all I could do to carry them. Some time during the day we fired 8-21 inch torpedoes to further reduce the top weight.
Damage control parties were fully employed forward, but all access to the spaces there was barred. Right after, Lt. Hope and his party were struggling to get the towing wire passed to the frigate Bahamas and get it safely secured. I seemed to remember corned beef sandwiches and fannies of Kye being handed round the ship.
All other memories about that day and of what we did during the slow voyage back under tow have faded completely; strangely, I have no recollection of where I slept and was messed for the rest of my time on board, and I made no mention of it in my letters home. Obviously all my kit had gone when 3 mess was blown open to the sea. All too soon we realised that quite a few familiar faces were missing and we were informed that the torpedo had claimed about one third of the ship’s company, all from the forward mess decks”
http://www.holywellhousepublishing.co.uk/Dudley_J_Mills.html
Charles Edward Arthur Clarke was born on 18th April 1914, in Woolwich, the son of a Royal Field Artillery soldier (and baptised at St. John’s Woolwich in November 1917 along with his younger brother Cyril) – the family’s address then was 8 Anglesey Road – perhaps his soldier father was home on leave?…
His parents were Oswald Davis Clarke (1890-1961) and Cathleen Emily (1886-1969) – they had married at St. Michael’s East Wickham in October 1913. By the mid 1930s they were in Welling, at 20 Montrose Avenue.
The 1939 Register shows Oswald as being a GPO Porter, his wife, plus children Ronald (a pawnbrokers shop assistant), Evelyn (a schoolgirl), and our own man as ‘single’ and a gents tailors salesman…He was not single for long, however – in the summer of 1940 he married Lilian May Cameron, a 28 year old shop assistant of 35 West Heath Road.
Little more is known at present about Charles or his family, although we do know that both parents remained in Welling after the war and lived until the 1960s – both are buried in Bexleyheath Cemetery.
Probate records from Charles state – Effects £455 18s 4d to Lilian May Clarke, widow.
His name is recorded on the Chatham naval memorial.
Chatham Naval Memorial
“After the First World War, an appropriate way had to be found of commemorating those members of the Royal Navy who had no known grave, the majority of deaths having occurred at sea where no permanent memorial could be provided.
An Admiralty committee recommended that the three manning ports in Great Britain – Chatham, Plymouth and Portsmouth – should each have an identical memorial of unmistakable naval form, an obelisk, which would serve as a leading mark for shipping. The memorials were designed by Sir Robert Lorimer, who had already carried out a considerable amount of work for the Commission, with sculpture by Henry Poole. The Chatham Naval Memorial was unveiled by the Prince of Wales (the future King Edward VIII) on 26 April 1924.
After the Second World War it was decided that the naval memorials should be extended to provide space for commemorating the naval dead without graves of that war, but since the three sites were dissimilar, a different architectural treatment was required for each. The architect for the Second World War extension at Chatham was Sir Edward Maufe (who also designed the Air Forces memorial at Runnymede, and was a one-time resident of Bexleyheath’s Red House) and the additional sculpture was by Charles Wheeler and William McMillan. The Extension was unveiled by the Duke of Edinburgh on 15 October 1952.
Chatham Naval Memorial commemorates 8,517 sailors of the First World War and 10,098 of the Second World War”
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If anyone is able to add any extra information, provide more family details, or suggest any corrections, please let us know – also, if anyone has any more photos of this individual listed on our memorials, please get in touch. Thank you.
Commemorated
- St. Michael’s East Wickham Church Memorial Tablet
- Chatham Naval Memorial
This story has been researched by volunteers. We have taken every effort to ensure its accuracy. If you are related to Charles Edward Arthur Clarke, or if you have any further information, please do get in touch.