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On the afternoon of the 9th April 1940, Captain Warburton-Lee led his five ships up the fjord and on reaching a pilot station at Tranhoy, landed Lieutenant Heppel and Stanning, seeking information about any German warships that may have passed by; also the assistance of a pilot to take us up to Narvik. They were told that some craft had passed up but not at all sure of the type and number. The pilot refused point blank, saying if we had a force twice that size he would not come.

With the two officers back on board, Warburton-Lee called the other CO's over to the Hardy to plan out a course of action and it was agreed if we had any success in pinning any enemy down we would land a contingent of 30 men from each ship (150 altogether), adequately armed and attempt to capture Narvik.

On informing the Admiralty of the conditions, it was left to our Captain to make his own decision and we, the Hardy's ships company, knew without any doubt whatsoever what that meant. With a "death or glory" man at the helm there was only one answer. We were going in!

Later on that evening Lieutenant Heppel had it broadcast that anyone interested could congregate in the for'ard messdeck and he and other officers would explain to us what to expect at Narvik and our course of action. They had drawn up a fairly good chart of the area on a blackboard showing the harbour and where we expected to find German warships. Surprise was the keyword of success and we hoped to sneak close into the harbour at the very first light of day and blast away. Thinking of it afterwards, I was amazed to realize how accurate they had been with their predictions.

Since the previous sea action, on training our after-tubes, I noticed they had become exceedingly stiff as if seizing up. The training numbers were having a hell of a job getting them to move. I had searched underneath for any grease nipples and applied a grease gun where I could use it. I called on the Chief E.A. to see what he could make of it but he was useless! All I got was some sarcastic remarks that we did not know our job. Throughout that long night it was a constant worry to me that if we got a quick order to train starboard, we were in trouble.

On we steamed through the dark artic night; closed up at action stations; huddled around our weaponry; foremost tubes trained to starboard; after tubes trained to port; firing cartridges inserted but "ready" pushes withdrawn. No noise, no talking- just the gentle swish of water against the ship's side. Above us and aft No 4 guns crew closed up and as silent as the grave. Then somewhere near a flicker of sparks and we immediately jumped into action. Below in his little galley our Captain's Maltese cook Giuseppe was endeavouring to cook his masters' supper. In seconds his "charley noble" chimney was dismantled amid a deck plate screwed over the hole. The next minute he was out through the after door wondering why his galley had so suddenly choked up with smoke and fumes and his captain's supper in ruins. Just too bad for "the old man".

Occasionally we sighted a jut of land in the middle of nowhere; now and then a tiny blue flash of a signal for the next ship astern; otherwise total blackness.

It was 4am on the 10th April 1940 and a whispered message came though - "We are within 15 minutes of Narvik". Nerves were getting tensed up and straining our eyes we could just make out a snow covered shore line, and what looked like a scuttled merchant ship partly lying on its side.

Then suddenly the order from the bridge "All tubes ready starboard". This was the dreaded moment and I knew we were in trouble. Our four training numbers were struggling desperately to get the tubes around 180 degrees; at the same time the foremost tubes were firing and all their torpedoes were gone. With that, all hell broke loose as our 5 by 4.7 inch guns opened up on targets that became visible.

With our communication man screaming his head off "Ready starboard- ready starboard!" I felt completely helpless, but then the men from our other tubes saw our predicament and quickly set to pushing like hell to get those obstinate tubes into position.

A split second before they locked into position I was knocking in the "ready" pushes; the T.L. in the torpedo control had his fingers on the firing switch and the first torpedo shot out causing the tubes to whip and the "fish" to slightly graze the protecting stanchion. Then the tubes locked and two more missiles followed leaving us with one.

The Destroyer then turned to port picking up speed, but we still could not see much of our target area as it was shrouded in smoke from direct torpedo hits. Later we were told by some escaped merchant seaman that we had made a terrible mess of German naval ships lying alongside the wall in the harbour; some of them had received more than one direct hit. Perhaps our torpedoes should have been spread out a bit more.

In a matter of minutes we were well clear and out in the open fjord and a chance to assess any damage the Hardy had received. There were no casualties as far as we knew but we noticed a few small shell holes in the after funnel. Tansy Lee, one of our number, picked up a small shell lying nearby, he quickly dropped and kicked it over the ship's side as it was red hot!

For us, the torpedo men, we thought it was all over as we retreated down to the entrance to the fjord. I was wishing we could have got rid of the last "fish" so that we could stock up a complete new outfit when we got back to base. It was not to be! Our Captain had decided to go back in again, leading the others in the flotilla to give them a chance to fire their torpedoes. This time it was quite different as we had been caught in between German destroyers that had been anchored out of sight up another fjord. Shells were screaming around us and our bridge was receiving direct hits. There we were, our tube crews totally helpless, hoping for some order to come from the bridge. One minute our engines would be revving up to full speed; the ship twisting and turning; flag signals hoisted at the yard arm; then just as quick, hauled down again. Out in the fjord, one of our ships the Hunter, was in dire distress, on fire and sinking. All over in a few minutes! Later we were to learn that some survivors had been picked up by the Germans.

Then from the bridge came an order "Light a smoke float aft". After a quick word with the others I armed myself with a box of matches and dashed aft. On reaching the quarter deck I could see No. 5 gun firing astern, the Warrant-Gunner, Mr McCracken standing near and the decks awash from fire hoses.

I crawled on hands and knees below the gun muzzle and as I reached the smoke float I could see black smoke pouring from the funnels. I knew I had to get the smoke canister working quickly to make an effective screen, (white smoke has to mingle with black to cling it close to the water). Everything was wet and try as I could I could not get the damn thing to ignite. Through my mind there was one thought - when this was all over the captain would want to know why we had not obeyed orders to ignite a smoke float. Again I was being plagued over the thought of the torpedo tubes coming around so slowly and considered we might have missed a chance with the remaining torpedo because we had moved off target. He was sure to delve to the bottom of things! Giving up I started making my way back to the others. Things had gone strangely quiet. When I got by the gunner he turned and said "It's all over" I said "Why?" He answered - "We are aground!"

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