There was a general feeling of disappointment abroad this morning that nothing had happened. Their value in HK was now practically nil, fuelling was a chancy business, repairs and slipping (matters of primary importance to these delicate craft) were impossible owing to a bombed slipway, and, in addition, no new torpedoes could be loaded into the tubes. So there they were: five M.T.B.s with no work to do – one already crocked – lying about all day, a target for any Japanese “Fei Kei” (‘plane) which prowled their way and taking all the punishment without even the pleasure of having a crack back. By this time landings on the Island were in full force and the only use made of them was the use of numbers 10 and 07 as fast ferryboats to Stanley.
Similar to yesterday, we, in company with 07 (our junior ship) lay alongside the ferry again, after coming in on a most glorious morning, and spent the day striking in stores and dodging shells and trench mortars. The crews, as a land force, were naturally short of equipment and with this in mind Legge and I paid a visit to H.Q. and there ransacked a huge store of loose equipment, webbing etc., belonging to the dead and wounded. It was a ghoulish job, prowling over dead men’s effects and not a very pleasant experience but, after all, the stuff was of no use to them. There was an amazing collection of gear apart from regulation equipment; haversacks and pockets had spilled open and, in the general disorder, could be found chequebooks, photographs, letters, pipes etc. and in one corner, we had an amazing haul of eight packets of ‘Chesterfield’.
Ultimately we collected what was of use to us, and, in addition, I managed to find the webbing equipment of our snooty friend of some days previous. (Foolishly he had left it “sculling” in his office, and it only took two seconds to acquire).
The ground floor was being used as a clearing station and the mixture of battalions was some indication of how confused the fighting had become. Middlesex, Canadians, Royal Scots, Volunteers and the Royal Navy, parties of whom by this time were defending the hills looking for snipers and small parties of Japanese which had infiltrated through our lines – they were all there in varying numbers, with a Volunteer unit at the main entrance looking towards Shouson Hill. The Naval parties, as a result both of the dark blue uniforms and complete lack of training in this type of warfare were playing the role of “prey” rather than that of hunter.
T.M. fire on the road was very steady and, although having no effect on the building at all, succeeded in keeping people’s heads down. Just as Legge and I came out – we were standing admiring the general view of shell bursts – the whistle of one sounded too close for comfort – down we went – a thud only a few feet away – a dud – thank God! – The ride back down to the jetty was carried out at a speed which left one no time for wondering what was going to happen next.
In the evening we put behind Ap Li Chau again and again still no orders. It was another lovely evening and during my hour of watch I realised how communicative men become in the early morning. Men I had only just met and who knew me only as “Mac”, “Jock” or “Sir” according to their ideas of what I was or whether their officer was present, while sharing a watch, opened up, and gave one all details of their lives and ideas on the Navy and life in general. It was the same evening too, that I noticed the intense admiration and interest they all had for Mike. All of them regular sailors and accustomed to taking orders, they seemed greatly impressed by the appearance of someone who, while obviously in command of things, yet gave the impression of being able to do things and who could be called “Mike” by the very people he was commanding without any ‘loss of face’ or apparent loss of efficiency.