Shaun Lewis's Blog

Today is Lancashire Day when the people of Lancashire celebrate the anniversary of sending its first members to the Model Parliament of Edward I in 1295. On this day, we toast HM The Queen, the Duke of Lancaster.On such a day it is worth remembering an old hero of Lancashire, Charles Rumney Samson. Samson was one of the first four Royal Navy pilots and a pioneer of naval aviation. He was born in 1883, in a suburb of Manchester, so in his day, he was Lancashire born and bred. Samson features prominently in my new book (due out in December on Amazon), The Wings of the Wind. Much of the material is based on his autobiography, Fights and Flights, published in 1930, just a year before his sudden death. He joined the Royal Navy as a cadet in 1897 and spent much of his early career off Africa and in the Persian Gulf, suppressing pirates and gun runners. In 1911, he was selected to begin flying training. He went on to set up the Royal Naval Air Station at Eastchurch, in Kent, and then its naval flying school. In 1912, following his promotion to Commander, he was the first British pilot to take off in an aircraft launched from a ship and, in May that year, he took off from HMS Hibernia to become the first aviator in the world to be launched from a ship at sea. Soon afterwards, on the formation of the Royal Flying Corps, he was given command of its Naval Wing. Throughout his time in command, he worked tirelessly to develop the Naval Wing as a fighting arm of the Royal Navy and conducted trials on wireless communications, bombing, the dropping of air-launched torpedoes and night flying.On 1 July 1914, the Naval Wing separated from the RFC to become the RNAS. The following month, following the outbreak of war, Samson took his command to Belgium with the intention of helping with the defence of Ostend. Once this was recognised as being impractical, he was ordered to withdraw to England, but used the excuse of fog to disobey these orders. Instead, he set about working with the French and Belgians to use his aircraft for reconnaissance. His command included a large transport pool and he came up with the idea of using the motor cars to assist in this reconnaissance work and to rescue downed pilots. He was even more fortunate that his force comprised several skilled mechanics and testers from the Rolls-Royce, Wolsey and Talbot works. Gradually, the transport was armed with Lewis and Maxim guns and boiler plate added so that his force was named the RNAS Armoured Car Section (later to become the RN Armoured Car Division). One of Samson’s officers was Lord Grosvenor and he was helpful in financing the purchase of several more Rolls-Royce cars. You will have to wait for me to finish my novel to hear more of this section’s exploits. Meanwhile, a detachment of Samson’s squadron was the first to initiate the concept of strategic bombing when they bombed the Zeppelin sheds at Cologne and Dusseldorf. This was a role the RNAS retained until it was disbanded on 1 April 1918 on the formation of the Royal Air Force.In 1915, Samson was sent to the Dardanelles in command of 3 Squadron RNAS. There, the squadron carried a range of operations, including anti-submarine patrols, reconnaissance, spotting for the battleships and providing air cover for the troops ashore. Samson even flew a spare periscope to the Sea of Marmora to replace that of HMS E11 which had been damaged by accurate Turkish artillery fire.In 1916, Samson was given command of a former Isle of Man ferry that had been converted into a seaplane carrier. He operated in the Mediterranean and Gulf harassing the Turks in Syria, Palestine and Arabia. Samson had a reputation for independence and this did not win him friends at the Admiralty. When asked why his ship was expending so much ammunition, he signalled back, “that there was unfortunately a war on.” He later wrote a critical report on the operation of seaplanes that was considered by their Lordships as “most improper” in its tone and content. His application for promotion was withheld and it did not help that his ship ran aground, although he and his officers were acquitted at the subsequent court martial.In January 1917, Samson’s ship was sunk by Turkish artillery fire and he transferred his command to one of his escort ships. He shifted his zone of operations to the Indian Ocean where he hunted German commerce raiders. From late 1917 until the end of the war, Samson commanded an air group based at Great Yarmouth and operating over the North Sea in the pursuit of U-boats and Zeppelins. Keen to involve his aircraft in operations deeper into the enemy’s coast, he devised a scheme whereby his aircraft were towed on specially-designed lighters behind warships. The aeroplanes were then launched from these lighters to carry out offensive operations, one of which was a successful raid on a Zeppelin shed.In October 1918, Samson’s command came under the control of the RAF as 73 Wing of 4 Group and he finally received his promotion to Group Captain, having resigned his naval commission in August 1919. However, he refused to give up his pointed, piratical beard. In 1922, he was promoted Air Commodore, but his career prospects were then blighted in 1923 when he divorced his first wife. To the end of his career he bombarded the Air Staff with pioneering proposals, not always welcome even if well-reasoned, and as Chief of Staff, Middle East Command, he organised and led the first flight of an RAF bomber formation to fly from Cairo to Cape Town, opening up the route to commercial aircraft. Sadly, in 1929, Samson fell dangerously ill and he resigned his commission. He died suddenly, of a heart attack in his home near Salisbury, in February 1931 at the age of 47, and before the birth of his youngest daughter.

I have asked this question in a previous blog. Why do screenwriters distort historical events so much? Over the weekend, I watched the film, Zulu. It is a brilliant film and one I have enjoyed many times, so much so that this time I felt inspired to read more of the actual history of the battle at Rorke's Drift.It came as a disappointment, therefore, to discover that one of the characters, Private Hook VC, was in fact a model soldier. In the film he was portrayed as a drunk, malingerer and a thief. Apparently, the screenwriters wanted to include an anti-hero who could redeem himself during the course of the action. In which case, I ask, why not make up a character instead of maligning a real person? I understand the film offended Hook's two daughters and one can understand why. Similarly, the Reverend Witt was neither the drunkard nor ardent pacifist portrayed in the film.In my novels, I am always careful to change the names of fools, knaves and cowards to protect the sensibilities of their descendants. Why upset people when one doesn't need to?

I was very pleased recently to receive an email from a Mr Land. His grandfather was a cousin of Admiral Earl Beatty and Mr Land was interested in my account of the Royal Navy's presence at the Battle of Omdurman where a young Lieutenant David Beatty commanded the gunboat Fateh. In the prologue of my novel, Now the Darkness Gathers, I mention the gunboat Melik. Mr Land has a photo of himself standing before this very boat. The gunboat still survives the battle and, until 1989, was the clubhouse of the Blue Nile Sailing Club at Khartoum. A group of enthusiasts, The Melik Society, has been formed to improve awareness of British and Sudanese history and it hopes, too, to raise sufficient funds to preserve and restore the Melik. Should you wish to know more of the society, see their website at www.melik.org.uk.It may come as a surprise to many to learn that the Royal Navy was involved in the Battle of Omdurman, deep in the interior of the Sudan. Kitchener’s forces were transported down the Nile and the flotilla of craft employed included a number of gunboats, largely commanded by Royal Navy officers. The gunboats were heavily armed and the guns manned by Royal Marines. In addition to the heavy weaponry, they were equipped with powerful searchlights and, as my readers will discover, these were to have an important effect on the battle.

As we prepare to celebrate the Armistice of November 1918, it is worth remembering that the war didn’t end on that day for all. Indeed, HMS Cassandra, a light cruiser, was sunk by a German mine in December 1918 with the loss of 11 men and, in October 1919, nine men of HMS Dragon were killed by German shell fire off Riga. These ships were part of a force engaged in Operation Red Trek. Although the Germans were signatories to the Armistice, they regarded their obligations to the ceasefire as applying only to the Western Front. In their view, having beaten the Russians, they were free to continue operations in the newly-acquired Baltic States.At the same time, the new Bolshevik regime in Russia, also, threatened the independence of the Baltic States. Britain, anxious to halt the spread of Bolshevism and to maintain its freedom of the seas in the Baltic, sent a squadron of cruisers and destroyers to the Baltic. The command of the squadron was taken over in January 1919 by Admiral Cowan of whom I have written earlier. Unfortunately, after four years already of war, several sailors wanted nothing more than to be home again and Cowan’s command was marred by minor mutinies in 1919. Under Cowan, the Germans were eventually persuaded to withdraw from the Baltic States and the Bolsheviks were not only denied the use of the sea, but the ships ferried supplies to the Estonian and Latvian armies and supported them with bombardments from sea of the Bolshevik positions. The Royal Navy finally withdrew from the Baltic in February 1920 after the Russians agreed a ceasefire with Latvia and signed the Treaty of Tartu to recognise the independence of Estonia. In all, 107 RN personnel (and 5 from the RAF embarked in the carrier Vindictive) were killed in Operation Red Trek.The war in the Baltic up to 1918 is the topic of my current book, The Baltic Ice is thin, and that of 1919 will feature in my fifth novel next year (I hope). To that end, I am looking forward to the publication in January 2020 of Steve Dunn’s book, Battle in the Baltic, to aid my research.

The hero of my submarine novel, The Custom of the Trade, is partially based on the exploits of Lieutenant Commander Martin Nasmith during the Dardanelles campaign. By coincidence, Nasmith was later to command the 7th submarine Flotilla in the Baltic and to become the senior naval officer at Revel (now Tallinn) in Estonia during the campaign by the Baltic States for independence from the Bolsheviks. The story of the Baltic submarine flotilla is the subject of the novel I am currently writing and its sequel features the naval battle against the Bolsheviks.Nasmith was an early pioneer of submarines, qualifying for command in 1905. Unfortunately, his first command was sunk in an accident, but he and his men escaped to the surface and all survived. He went on to set up the submarine attack trainer at HMS Dolphin before taking command of HMS E11 in 1914. He made his name and earned his VC in 1915 when he created havoc amongst the Turks. As well as sinking several Turkish ships, he struck fear at the very heart of the Ottoman Empire when he entered the harbour of the then Constantinople and torpedoed a ship alongside. As well as sinking ships, he and his men used their gun to attack Turkish trains and even cavalry passing by the coast. His second-in-command, Lieutenant D’Oyly-Hughes, is credited with the first commando raid when he swam ashore to destroy a railway viaduct.Nasmith was promoted to flag rank and held a number of senior appointments during WWII, including Rear Admiral Submarines, before retiring as a full admiral in 1946. He married Beatrix Justina Dunbar-Rivers in 1920, changing his surname to Dunbar-Nasmith, and settled in Morayshire where he died in 1965. He is buried in Elgin.

Yesterday, I was privileged to attend the memorial service at the Old Naval College, Greenwich, for my old captain in HMS Plymouth, Captain David Pentreath, CBE DSO. It was a wonderful service with hundreds of people attending, including most of my fellow officers from 1982, one of whom I had not seen for over 37 years. He was a very fine man, naval officer and gentleman, and all who served under his command have nothing but absolute respect and admiration for him.The following is an extract from his obituary in The Times concerning his service in the Falklands War."Captain David Pentreath messaged Lieutenant-Commander Alfredo Astiz of the Argentine navy explaining that, if he did not surrender, Pentreath would shell the cliff behind his camp on South Georgia so that an avalanche of rocks would land on it. Eventually concluding that this was not worth the risk, the Argentine officer capitulated.Astiz came aboard Pentreath’s frigate, HMS Plymouth, on April 26, 1982, to formally surrender his men, part of the occupying force that had seized control of South Georgia on April 3. Although Astiz was known as the Blond Angel of Death because of the barbaric acts he had carried out against thousands of his own people, he was charm itself to the crew of Plymouth and turned out to have an exceptional knowledge of English.Escorted by a Royal Marine clutching a gun, Astiz was brought down from the executive officer’s cabin to sign the surrender document in the wardroom while Pentreath sat opposite. The photograph of that scene became one of the iconic shots of the conflict. As for Astiz, in 2011 he was jailed for life by a court in Argentina for crimes against humanity during the military rule of 1976-83.Plymouth had been heavily involved in the battle for South Georgia. She was among the first warships to arrive in the South Atlantic after the Argentine invasion and one of a handful tasked with reclaiming the island. The frigate accompanied HMS Antrim in bombarding enemy positions on April 25, firing 129 shells from her 4.5in guns before Marines and special forces were put ashore. Argentine troops across the island soon realised that they were up against a superior enemy and caved in.After briefly acting as a prison ship for captured forces Plymouth sailed to the Falkland Islands, where she was one of the conflict’s naval workhorses. Pentreath stood on a darkened bridge as she was the first ship to enter San Carlos Water on the night of May 20, escorting landing craft to the beaches then providing air-defence support for the amphibious assault.On June 8 Plymouth had been sent to shell an enemy observation point on West Falkland when lookouts spotted five Argentine Mirage jets on the horizon. Seeing Plymouth alone and outside the relative safety of San Carlos Water, the aircraft turned and homed in at low altitude. Swiftly Pentreath issued the emergency order of “full ahead”, then weaved the course of his ship in an attempt to evade the attack. Plymouth shot down two of the Mirages and damaged two more, but was hit by four 1,000lb bombs. Remarkably none exploded, probably because they were released too low for the fuses to arm, but one struck a primed depth charge.“The bombs bounced over the ship and across the flight deck, to the astonishment of the anti-submarine warfare mortars crew, who were crouching within feet of annihilation,” Pentreath recalled. “The ship returned to the anchorage at full speed, with thick clouds of brown smoke pouring over the flight deck a sure sign to consorts that she was in trouble.” Fires raged below decks for more than an hour and five injured sailors were taken off the frigate by helicopter.Pentreath was a measured and compassionate man with a stubborn streak whose assured, cool-headed authority was magnetic. A gifted ship-handler, he could spin his frigate around the ocean as though it were a Lamborghini.Affectionately known as “eagle eyes” by his men, Pentreath toured the decks daily, checking morale and explaining the developing battle to the 236-strong ship’s company. In Britain his wife, Judy, supported the sailors’ families, and used her talents as a potter to make each Plymouth sailor a mug.After confirmation of the final unconditional surrender of the Falklands by Argentina, Plymouth, patched up and back on the gun line, was the first British warship to enter Port Stanley on June 17. She returned to an ecstatic welcome at Royal Naval Dockyard Rosyth on July 14, after which Pentreath was awarded the Distinguished Service Order for his role in the campaign. He posted a photocopy of the Astiz surrender document to the Ministry of Defence, then framed the original and hung it in his study."

A continuing theme of my novels is the often unsung heroes and largely unknown activities of the Royal Navy in WW1. My aim is to bring to the fore once again the courageous deeds of great men and highlight that the Royal Navy wasn’t just involved in the Battle of Jutland. In my first novel, The Custom of the Trade, I have focused on the early days of submarine operations. Submarines in those days were in their infancy and extremely dangerous and unreliable. As will often be the case in my novels, I melded the true-life exploits of several men into one fictional character. In this case, I chose Lieutenant Commanders Max Horton DSO, Courtney Boyle VC and Martin Nasmith VC. In my book I unfurled the outstandingly successful submarine campaign of the Dardanelles and Sea of Marmara. Thanks to the submariners, four of whom won the VC during the campaign, when the allies withdrew from the beaches of Gallipoli, the Turks were down to their last week’s worth of ammunition.My second novel, Now the Darkness Gathers, relates the Royal Navy’s part in forming the antecedents of today’s Secret Service and GCHQ. I feature the first head of the Secret Service, Commander Mansfield Cumming, ‘C’ and begin to introduce WW1’s Director of Naval Intelligence, Captain ‘Blinker’ Hall. Hall’s extraordinary exploits continue into the third novel, The Wings of the Wind. However, the latter book, to be published by Endeavour Media in January 2020, has at its core the story of the early days of the Royal Naval Air Service and its Armoured Car Division. The commanding officer of the latter division and a true pioneer of naval aviation was Commander Charles Samson. Oddly, of all the heroes I have named in this piece so far, he was the only one not to be promoted to admiral. He retired as an Air Commodore in the RAF.Sadly, the subject of my current work, Where the Baltic Ice is thin, did not live to be promoted to admiral either. Captain Francis Cromie was murdered by the Cheka, the Russian Secret Police. Prior to becoming the naval attaché in Saint Petersburg, he commanded the Royal Navy’s submarine flotilla in the Baltic. Despite the flotilla’s enormous successes, the Baltic campaign became overshadowed by the Russian Revolutions and the mutinies of the Russian forces.I still have a few other plots for other novels up my sleeve, so hope to promote several more forgotten heroes and campaigns yet.

One of the first acts by the Royal Navy during WW1was to have the German underwater telegraphic cables cut in the North Sea, thus denying them telegram communications with most of the world. It meant that they had to rely on high frequency radio transmissions to communicate with their embassies and overseas ships. Knowing this, the Admiralty engaged the help of Marconi and the Post Office to set up listening stations on the east coast of England to intercept the German signals. I cover all this in my WW1 naval intelligence novel, Now the Darkness Gathers.Clearly, the German signals were encoded. However, the Admiralty had a break when they managed to obtain three of the Germans’ principal code books. Even so, they still could not decipher the German messages.However, serving on the staff of the Naval Intelligence Division was a Fleet Paymaster, Charles Rotter, a character I feature in my book and with whom I identify in three ways; we both served in what became the Navy’s Supply and Secretariat specialisation; we both worked in intelligence and, of most relevance here, we were both interpreters (I in Chinese and he in German). Rotter was the head of the German section and Admiral Oliver, the Director of Naval Intelligence, accordingly passed the signal intercepts to him and asked what he could make of them.Rotter was an expert in the German Navy. In common with several members of the naval intelligence community, he spent his leaves before the war in Germany. He could pass for a German national and spent much of his time mixing with German naval officers. As a result, he knew how they thought and expressed themselves. He, also, discovered that they never changed the form of words in routine signals sent at stated times, such as weather reports. Rotter soon recognised that more than one encryption method had been employed. After encoding, the Germans had used a substitution key for the letters. Using his knowledge of German and the way the German Navy wrote its signals, he identified the most commonly used sets of words and letters. He was greatly aided by the routine weather reports as he could check the actual weather in the area on the day of the report. This, by the way, was a technique later used by Bletchley Park during WW2. The RAF even dropped mines in certain areas so that the decoders could work out how letters had been transposed from the latitude and longitudes of the mines reported in the German signals. Returning to WW1, within a week, Rotter was able to produce a table to show how the letters were substituted and thereafter the staff of Room 40 were able to read the enemy’s signal traffic with ease.Unlike me, Rotter had a distinguished career and was to become a Companion of the Bath and a Rear Admiral. His contribution to winning the war has, sadly, been forgotten and I can find no photographs of him.

I am now about two thirds of the way through the first draft of my latest and fourth WW1 naval thriller, Where the Baltic Ice is Thin. I have decided to include in my tale an embellished version of the true account of German perfidy in the sinking of the submarine HMS E13 in the neutral waters of Denmark.E13, under the command or Lieutenant Commander Geoffrey Layton, was despatched to the Baltic in August 1915 to assist the Russians intercept German shipments of iron ore from neutral Sweden. To enter the Baltic the submarine had to make the dangerous passage through the very narrow and extremely shallow strait between Malmo and Copenhagen. Despite the navigational difficulties, the submarine had to remain dived to avoid the Danish and German patrols.Unfortunately, due to a defect in her compass, the submarine ran aground off the island of Saltholm in Danish territorial waters during the early hours of 18 August. At dawn, she was discovered by a Danish torpedo boat and the commanding officer given the customary 24 hours to re-float the submarine and leave Danish waters or to face internment. Within a few hours, a German torpedo boat appeared on the scene, but withdrew to radio for instructions from the German Baltic fleet commander. Meanwhile, the sailors of E13 worked frantically to lighten their submarine, pumping out tanks and fuel and jettisoning stores. However, it soon became apparent to Layton that his boat was stuck fast and it would not be possible to float her off unaided. He sent his first lieutenant ashore to negotiate with the Danes either for a two or terms for internment. Very shortly afterwards, the German torpedo boat returned in the company of a destroyer. The German admiral had decided that he could not run the risk of allowing another Royal Navy submarine enter the Baltic, such had been their effectiveness already. Without warning, the German warships opened fire with torpedoes, shell fire and machine guns. The first torpedo struck land due to the heel of the submarine, but quickly the vessel caught fire and Layton ordered his men to abandon ship. Nonetheless, the Germans continued their fire and aimed their machine guns at the survivors in the water. Outraged, the commanding officer of a Danish torpedo boat placed his ship between the men and the Germans. The two German ships then withdrew, but already 14 British sailors were dead and another missing, presumed dead.The Danish and British press were outraged by this violation of Danish territorial waters and international law. The Royal Navy dead were buried with full military honours. The survivors were interned for the rest of the war, but Layton, who had refused to give his parole, escaped back to Britain with his first lieutenant to continue the war. Germany subsequently issued an apology to Denmark, but the other Royal Navy submarines in the Baltic went on to make her pay for her war crime. My forthcoming book will explain all!

My third novel in the WW1 naval thriller For Those in Peril series is scheduled for publication by Endeavour Media in January 2020. It continues the Miller family saga and focuses on the history of the Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS). The book is called The Wings of the Wind.The Royal Navy's air arm began life as the naval wing of the newly created Royal Flying Corps in April 1912. A few months later, a new Air Department at the Admiralty was formed under the command of Captain Murray Sueter to oversee all naval aviation matters. A year earlier, four naval officers had been selected and trained to fly at a civilian airfield in Kent. One of these officers was Charles Samson, destined to command the naval wing and to become a pioneer of naval aviation. In May 1913, Samson piloted the first aeroplane to be launched from a ship underway. He had a fascinating career, winning several gallantry awards and ending his career as an Air Commodore in the RAF. My novel draws extensively on his autobiography Fights and Flights.Although a central flying school was established at Upavon to teach both army and naval officers to fly, the navy was permitted to conduct experimental flying at its new school at Eastchurch, under the command of Samson. As naval aircraft were expected to operate from ships and the sea, unlike the army, the navy was able to approach a wide variety of aircraft manufacturers to design and build suitable machines. By 1914, it had become clear that the army's and navy's needs were very different and that they needed to operate independently. Accordingly, on 1 July 1914, the Royal Naval Air Service was established, wholly under the control of the Admiralty. The army had to operate those aeroplanes built by the Royal Aircraft Factory at Farnborough, principally the BE2, a reconnaissance aircraft too slow for use as a fighter. However, the navy had established contracts with such manufacturers as Sopwith to provide a variety of aircraft to defend the fleet and its bases. As a result, during WW1, it was the navy that had to provide fighter escorts over the Western Front as well as taking on the duties of air defence against the Zeppelins. One of the squadrons in France, 'Naval Eight', later to become the RAF's 208 Squadron, was to serve with distinction to offer the British air superiority. The lending of a naval squadron to the army was so successful that a further four naval squadrons were sent to France.The RNAS continued in existence until it was merged with the RFC on 1 April 1918 to form the Royal April Fools (RAF). It was not until May 1939 that the navy regained total control of its own air branch. Although the Fleet Air Arm was formed in 1924, it came under the control of the RAF and encompassed those RAF units normally embarked in ships.As the Royal Navy prepares to receive its first batch of carrier-borne fixed wing aircraft since the withdrawal of the Sea Harrier in 2004, it can look back with pride at over 100 years of pioneering aviation history.