A second world war DSM group awarded to Second Hand Christopher Wilson, Royal Naval Reserve, who was captured on May 8th 1940 while serving as a member of a landing party investigating a shot down German aircraft. Some days later he was rescued by a party of Royal Marines who stormed the house they were held in, a marine narrowly missing a Royal Navy sailor with his bayonet as he rushed through the door – “ we were lucky he didn’t throw a grenade!”. 

George VI Distinguished Service Medal named to C. Wilson. 2-Hd. H.M.T. Northern Gem. 
1939-45 Star unnamed as issued 
Atlantic Star unnamed as issued 
WW2 Defence Medal unnamed as issued 
War Medal 1939-45 unnamed as issued 
George VI Royal Naval Reserve Long Service & Good Conduct Medal named to 6. S.B. C. Wilson. 2. Hd. R.N.R. 

The medals are in good condition and are mounted court style for display. 

Comes with a copy of ‘Coxswain in the Northern Convoys’ by S.A. Kerslake and some research.

D.S.M. London Gazette 1st January 1940:
  ‘For unfailing courage, endurance and resource in H.M. trawlers, drifters and minesweepers in their hard and perilous task of sweeping the seas clean of enemy mines and combating submarines.’

Wilson is mentioned in S. A. Kerslake’s memoirs Coxswain in the Northern Convoys, focusing on the early days of the war and the Norway 1940 campaign

Christopher Wilson was awarded the DSM while a 2nd-Hand on HMT Northern Gem. At that time (1939) HMT Northern Gem, along with Northern Wave, Northern Dawn , Northern Spray and Northern Pride, all boats built in Germany, formed a flotilla. The flotilla was based at Milford Haven and escorted up to fifty or more merchant vessels at a time up that part of the coast, through the Irish Sea and the North Channel, then saw them off into the Atlantic Ocean where they made their own separate ways to their destinations. At that time the the Royal Navy was short of destroyers for escort duties and would remain so for months to come.

In April 1940 Northern Gem was ordered to sail to Norway. There, paired with Northern Spray, they were tasked with patrolling Ofot Fjord. This fjord led to Narvik, which was occupied by the Germans. Each ship took one side of the fjord, their job was to keep an ASDIC watch for enemy submarines attempting to take supplies to the German troops in Narvik. It was on May 8th 1940, while in Ofot Fjord, that an enemy plane trailing smoke passed over the ship and crashed near Ae Fjord, an offshoot of Ofot Fjord. Christopher Wilson, by now promoted to Coxswain of Northern Gem, was a member of a landing party sent to investigate the crashed plane.

Kerslake writes:

  ‘The boat nosed its way into Ae Fiord around a headland, and almost immediately we saw the aircraft. The pilot had made a pretty good piece of work of the landing; he had put it down on a flattish bit of beach covered with shingle and a few small rocks. We could see that the tip of the port wing was in the water, and there really did not appear to be much damage. None of us could tell what sort of plane it was, but with hindsight I suppose that we should have guessed. As we closed in to the shore we could see that the door on the port side of the cabin was missing, and there was no sign of any of the occupants. This in itself should have made us more wary of the situation than we were. There was a lot of gear strewn about, and we assumed that the crew had got away and were now hiding in the fir trees higher up on the mountain slopes, as these trees were abundant all around the snow-covered fiord.

Still our officer said that we would go in as planned and investigate the aircraft. Looking over the bows and into the water we soon found that we could see the bottom very easily, but the clear water made us underestimate just how deep it really was. So over the side we went. Jack Sullivan who was about five feet four inches in his stockinged feet found himself up to his armpits, and gasping for breath; the water was freezing cold. One after another the rest of the shore party followed him in: our officer, the coxswain, Chris Wilson, myself and four others. We forged our way to the beach where we stamped our feet and jumped up and down to try and warm ourselves up. I remember that we had a good giggle about paddling and getting paid for it, when suddenly the Lewis gun that was set up in the bows of the boat, opened up, and we saw tracers going over our heads. What we didn’t know at this time was that Fred Powell had seen some movement in the fir trees above us and had pointed this out to the Spray’s officer, who was in charge of the men left onboard. He told Fred to fire a burst over the heads of whoever was up there as an invitation to get them out in the open to show themselves. Instead we onshore found German tracers coming back on a reciprocal course to those of ours from the boat, and we were aware that we were in between.

We had all dropped to the ground as soon as the firing started, and got under or behind what bit of cover there was. We hugged the ground a bit closer, and noticed the Lewis gun on the boat had stopped firing. Turning to look at the boat from where we lay on the ground, we saw that it was moving full astern out of the fiord, with the German fire hitting it all over the place and chopping it to pieces. From where we lay it looked a shambles, and we feared for our shipmates’ lives; but we had to think of ourselves now and of the position that we found ourselves in. My own concern now was whether I could get any better cover. I was between two large rocks which were slightly apart. There was some sort of plant life around them, and I realised that there was a trickle of water coming through between them and I was right in it. I know that I wet myself then, whether from fear or fright I can’t be sure as I honestly at that time did not feel I was unduly afraid. Looking up towards the trees, I could see a German soldier standing out clear of a tree, so I lined his chest up in the sights on my rifle and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened and I found that in the excitement of the last few minutes, for that’s how fast the time had gone by, I had forgotten to open the cut- off and put a bullet up the spout.

I did not get a second chance, for Jackie Sullivan who was lying alongside of me said, very quietly: ‘Don’t look now, Sid, but there’s a dirty big jerry behind you’.

I let go of my rifle and turned over, and sure enough there was. He stood over the top of me with his rifle and the bayonet attached to it, held steady a couple of inches from my back. We all stood up and put our hands over our heads, and that was that. We were now captured and were prisoners of war.’

They were eventually freed:

  ‘Taking a look through one of the windows, one of the seamen shouted that he could see people coming round the headland and along the edge of the sea, making their way into the village. We all got up to have a look, and as they got closer we saw that they were wearing khaki, and then into the bay steamed the Northern Spray. Going over to the other side of the house, we could see the Germans running back up the way we had come from. The Spray’s antique four-inch gun started to fire and we saw the explosions of the shells near to where the Germans now were looking for cover amongst the rocks. Back again to the other window, we could now see that the khaki-clad figures were in fact British Marines, who were now charging along and shouting at the top of their voices towards the village of Underulet. What a smashing sight it was to us in the house.

They then surrounded the house we were in, and we could hear one of them shouting: ‘Some of the bastards are still in there’. Charlie Keen opened the door answering as loudly as he could over the racket that the Marines were making, ‘We’re British sailors’ just as a Marine lunged at him with a rifle and bayonet, pulling it back in time. It’s a good job that they didn’t throw in a couple of hand-grenades through the windows.

A feeling of relief came over us now that we had been rescued, and our exhaustion went from us for the moment as we stepped outside the house, and gathered up bits of equipment that the Germans had left behind in their haste to get away from the Marines. We wanted to keep them as mementoes and souvenirs of our two days of captivity. I went all out to try and get hold of a cine camera with which one of the group had been taking photographs of us during the march, but I was much too slow, and one of the Marines got hold of it first.’

The day after they rejoined Northern Gem they investigated the Norwegian fishing vessel that would lead to an officer axed in the back and their gunner stabbed to death:

  ‘The morning following our return to the ship, our skipper received orders to proceed to the village of Underulet, to see if any of the Germans had been missed, so off we steamed keeping our eyes open for any enemy aircraft on the way. However we arrived in the bay, without our seeing one at all. As the village came into view, we saw a small fishing boat made fast alongside the jetty. There had been none there on the previous day, so we made our way slowly towards it. All of our guns were manned, and every man on board was on the alert. The occupants of this fishing boat had seen us arriving in the bay, for they immediately cast off their ropes from the jetty, and made all the speed that they could to the far side of the bay on our starboard side. It was obviously a move to avoid contact with us. In spite of signals, and warnings shouted over the loud hailer, plus the fact that we had quite a bit of armament showing, they took no notice so Lieutenant Commander Scarlett ordered a shot to be fired across his bows as a stronger warning to stop, in true naval fashion; that seemed to do the trick for when the four-inch shell landed and splashed in the water ahead of them, the boat slowed down and turned towards us.

When it got closer, it was ordered to come right alongside the Gem, and eventually made fast with her port side up against our starboard side, with two ropes out, one from forward and one from aft. There were four men on the deck, and wheelhouse, all dressed in the garb of Norwegian fishermen. Our CO asked who they were and why hadn’t they stopped when we first signalled them to do so. Not one of them answered, and they looked surly and very suspicious, so the officer who had made his escape from our landing party some two or three days previously, took the two men nearest to him on the deck of the Gem, saying, ‘Come on follow me.’ They were a seaman from Stornaway, and the new replacement gunner who had only come on board the day before and they climbed over onto the deck of the fishing boat. All three were armed with revolvers, and spread out to make a search of the vessel. As they did so the man in the wheelhouse shouted something out; at once the boat started going full ahead, the ropes holding both ships together became taut and the men fore and aft cut the ropes with knives. All this happened in the blink of an eye, and was so sudden and unexpected.

In the space of a couple of minutes she was a good distance away from us, and we could see a fearful struggle going on on her deck. Our officer was grappling with one of the men, when one of the others came up behind him and hit him with an axe; he fell to the deck with the axe still lodged in his back. The gunner was being stabbed repeatedly with knives, but both he and the other seaman had the presence of mind to jump over the side and into the water. Up to that time we had dared not to open fire in case we hit one of our own men, but now that they were off the boat, and as far as we knew, our officer lay dead where he had fallen, everyone opened up with whatever they had their hands on, rifles, machine guns, revolvers. Within minutes she was stopped dead in the water with no sign of life to be seen anywhere on the deck.

First we stopped to pick up our two men out of the water, where the seaman was supporting the gunner. Myself and another seaman reached over and pulled him upwards so that others could get a better hold of his arms and his clothing to heave him inboard. As we got him over the ship’s rail we could see the blood pumping out of the rents in his clothing; blood and salt water ran out of his seaboots and onto the deck like miniature rivers. It was tragic that as we laid him on the deck he gave us a great big grin, then he died. I have seen this happen in my mind’s eye many times since then, but I am sorry to say that I never even got to know his name, his membership of the crew had been so short. Our other seaman was unscathed.

We now went alongside the fishing boat, and several of our men then jumped onboard her and made her fast once again. Others had run to our officer who still lay where he had fallen. The axe was still buried in his back, he was still alive but unconscious and was lifted up very gently and taken to the wardroom on the Gem. Here he was made as comfortable as possible. No one had the knowledge to treat such a wound so time was of an essence to get him to a doctor.

In the meantime some of our crew had looked at the crew of the boat. All four were dead, two had been shot at close range by revolver shots, the other two were riddled with machine gun bullets. The wheel house was a shambles, the engines were shattered, she was taking water in rather quickly from the bullet holes in her hull, and how she hadn’t caught fire no one knew. The seaman peering down the forecastle shouted that he could hear someone down there; he shouted down the hatch for whoever it was down there to come up on deck, once, twice, and a third time, and as no one appeared he fired couple of shots down into the deck below the hatch. This brought a response straight away, but imagine our surprise when up the forecastle ladder and onto the deck, came an old man of about seventy years of age, followed by a young woman with a small baby in her arms, then came an old lady. None of them was hurt at all, but they were all in a state of shock, and when they saw what had happened on deck and the four bodies laid there, the two women burst into tears. The sight the bodies and the deck literally running with blood as it was must have stayed with them for the rest of their lives, as it has with me. They must have been terribly frightened for themselves at that minute.

We ourselves were stunned and just couldn’t believe our eyes. Two men who had gone down the forecastle to have a look round came back up and reported that there was no one else below, but that there were holes all over the place and water was coming in. In their own words it was like the inside of a colander down there.

The old man, the two women and the baby, were taken onboard the Gem, the ropes were then cast off, and a few four inch shells were fired into her hull. As she settled deeper into the water, we in the Gem set off once more to seek out the Resolution to get medical aid for our wounded officer, and to land the bodies from the foredeck.

In the warmth of the Gem’s after mess deck, as she steamed along, Some of us were still wondering at the miraculous survival of these people. They were now being given hot drinks and a good meal, the sympathy of the British sailor now coming to the fore as it always seems to do in cases like this. It was really heart-warming to see a big six-foot stoker who hailed from Grimsby, rough and ready, and just in his vest and trousers, off watch, and handling the baby as if he were the mother of the child, feeding it with diluted Nestles milk in warm water with a spoon, and making a damn good job of it. As the time passed and the remaining three people relaxed a bit, we learnt from them that the old couple were man and wife and also the grandparents of the baby. The four who died on the boat were friends and relations, including their son, the young woman’s husband and the baby’s father. Apparently the day before they had seen what had happened at their village of Underulet; the boat had been out on a fishing trip and when it arrived back, they had decided that it would be best if they left the village for a time and went to stay with friends further north. They had just got ready to leave when they saw this ship, (the Northern Gem), come into the bay, and thought it was a German one that had come back to take revenge for what had happened to their troops. This was understandable to those of us who had been fishermen, as the Gem was German-built, and she looked like many of the German trawlers which passed through the fiords in peace-time making their way to the White Sea fishing grounds.

The big White Ensign which we were flying had meant nothing to them as they had not seen one before, and even when they were alongside us and hearing our skipper questioning the men on deck, they still thought that we were German. That was why the ropes had been cut away and the engine put on to full ahead to get away from us. Instead their four men were all dead and now lay with our dead gunner under the whale-back, and our officer was in the ward-room with severe if not fatal wounds. When eventually we arrived at the Resolution, and these unfortunates had to go onboard her, they didn’t go empty-handed, for they took with them a substantial amount of money in Norwegian kroners, given very willingly by every member of the Gem’s crew to help to make up for the loss of their relatives and friends.’