TNA ADM 334 83

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very gingerly to the accompaniment of the most outrageous din and guided by a furious blaze. Hell itself could not put up a better show, I am pretty sure.
Various Destroyers & about six Yarmouth drifters were off the entrance, but owing to the presence of numerous wrecks they were (like me) a bit chary of entering. A 'schoot' however came boldly past us and entered with great confidence and I then hailed 'Clythmess' and told her to follow 'Lord Grey' in at a respectable distance, so I
would have room to come astern & manoeuver if necessary. As I went ahead the aforesaid schoot returned & shot out of the harbour entrance as if he had definitely decided that it was no place for him.
However we proceeded slowly in and tied up just ahead of the wreck of
H.M.T. Polly Johnson - alongside the Eastern mole. Clythness lay astern of us. We now had time to survey thesituation by the eerie light of numerous oil fires & the flaming wreck of a British Destroyer. Bombing was continuous as was the whine of whistling bombs.
There was no sign of anyone on the quay, which was - I now saw - completely severed just shoreward of us. Damage done probably by the same bomb that sank 'Polly Johnson'. This of course meant that we should have to move further into the inferno before I could land &
endeavour to report to Capt. Tennant. I may say I had the gravest doubts about that officer's safety, for it looked impossible to exist anywhere nearer the town. However I felt an effort must be made without delay to carry out my very vague orders and so we moved - with great difficulty - to the other side of the mole in the quay & again made fast.
My opposite number in Clythness was no other than Tony Heckstall-
Smith, sub-Lt R.N.V.R., son of the famous Major - the pivot round which all yachting seemed to revolve in the good old days of peace.
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