I had joined HMS Yarnton, a coastal minesweeper, in late August 1969 for a tour of duty lasting 12 months (unaccompanied if you were married) with two weeks leave in UK in the middle. As the Sub Lieutenant on board I was responsible for navigation and watchkeeping, although I was still to be awarded my Bridge Watchkeeping Ticket and my Ocean Navigation Certificate. Without those two pieces of paper I would not be promoted to Lieutenant and I would be “withdrawn from training” after having already served almost 5 years. So, no pressure then.
The ship weighed in at 300 tons and was mainly constructed of teak. The Bridge was entirely open to the elements except for a canvas awning to keep off the hot Gulf sun. The engines were two Napier Deltic diesels, exactly the same as you would find in a Deltic Class locomotive of British Rail. The anchor and cable were made of phosphor bronze to reduce the ship’s vulnerability to magnetic mines and were hugely expensive. The ship’s company was about 30 with a Lieutenant as Captain (aged 26), a Lieutenant as First Lieutenant (24) and me as third hand(21). By the end of the year I was a Lieutenant as well. Most of the time we also had two Midshipmen under training but they rapidly became day bridge watchkeepers, one was Gunnery Officer (we had a 40mm Bofors gun) and the other was the Boarding Officer, probably the most dangerous job going. The chief engineer was a Chief Petty Officer and the senior electrician was a Petty Officer. It was cramped and, despite the air conditioning, very hot. As there was no laundry facility on board, we didn’t wear uniform most of the time at sea. The lads and the Officers usually just wore an old pair of shorts and sandals, unless a senior ship appeared or we became involved in activities which required proper uniform. In Bahrain, there was a shore office for the Commander 9th Mine Countermeasures Squadron(Commander John Gunning) at naval base HMS Jufair, where the business of Yarnton and the other 7 MCM vessels was planned.
By Christmas the ship’s company were proficient enough (worked up) to be deployed solo in January 1970 to a little known scrap taking place in Oman. We were told that this little war was one the government wanted to keep quiet but we were to offer assistance and support in any way we could without getting sunk.
I drew the relevant charts and was told to plan a passage to Salalah via a visit to Muscat, but that I would need charts that took in the whole of the Gulf of Oman and Aden. Looking at the latest chart for the approach to Salalah I noted that the last survey was conducted in 1832 and the coastline looked rather indistinct. Clearly, no RN ship had been there for quite some time and certainly no survey ship. Proceed with caution!
We also drew from stores what we needed for the visit to the ancient city of Muscat, which included a candle lantern. Muscat had no electric street lights, so anyone navigating the streets at night without a lantern was considered automatically to be up to no good and would be bashed over the head by the Sultan’s gendarmerie. We were also briefed not to flinch if we were offered sheep eyes at an official banquet. Amongst the more recent local laws, the Sultan had decreed, as a concession to modernity, that his subjects could own a bicycle or a transistor radio…but not both.
As it turned out, all the preparations for Muscat were wasted. We arrived off the city early in the afternoon and anchored offshore until our time to enter harbour. It was uncomfortable riding to anchor as there was a heavy short swell running into the coast which made the ship jerk up against the anchor cable every 10 seconds or so. Suddenly I realised that we weren’t jerking against the cable any more, we were drifting without power. We quickly flashed up the engines and steered to safe ground but we were down one anchor out of two and a very expensive anchor at that. As the Navigation Officer, the anchor and cable were my responsibility. There were reports to be made and signalled and eventually there would be an inquiry with me in the frame. This hung over me for months until the experts had had a chance to examine what was left of the cable and it was clear to them that this was metal fatigue and in no way could I be held responsible.
Another signal and we were told to proceed on the original mission but with only one serviceable anchor. We continued into the Gulf of Oman, passing the lights of RAF Masirah and then into an unknown and unlit coastline.
We timed our arrival at Salalah for 0900…RN ships always like to arrive at 0900 and leave about 1100 if they can as this best fits the ship’s watchkeeping routine.
We crept in slowly with radar and echo sounder running and recorded. Visual bearings were of little use for navigation as there were no significant marks on the old chart to fix on. I subsequently sent off my tracings and depths and sure enough the Hydrographer issued a new chart with my name against the latest survey on every copy.
Within a few minutes of anchoring a giant Mexeflote came chugging over to us, loaded with drums of diesel for refuelling. A Mexeflote consists of a series of steel boxes linked together to form a raft. At one end is bolted a large diesel engine driving a propeller, rather like an outsize outboard engine. Mexeflotes can be quite large or smaller depending on the number of steel boxes connected up. They are usually operated by the Royal Engineers and were still operational in the Falklands War, twelve years later. Using a “Hasty Pump” we sucked fuel out of the drums, through a hose and topped up the ship’s tanks, a very slow process.
In the meantime the Captain and I prepared to go ashore to be briefed at the Sultan of Oman’s Armed Forces (SOAF) Headquarters. We dressed in Action Working Dress and were briefed by the Leading Gunner on how to use the Stirling Sub Machine Guns (SMG) we were to carry as defensive armament. We carried a double magazine taped together with black tape. The Petty Officer Electrician, similarly equipped, came along as escort. The RAF Landrover duly arrived and we proceeded slowly along the road round the bay to SOAF HQ. This was the first time I had even contemplated coming under fire and I felt just a little exhilarated as we all kept our eyes peeled for any sign of rebels. The rebels were no doubt watching our activities from the safe vantage point of the Jebal, some miles away.
On arrival at SOAF HQ, very luxurious, we were ushered into the Officers’ Mess where we signed the Visitors Book, in which I found a whole page devoted to the signature and kind comments of the old Sultan. We were offered fresh fruit, which we had not seen for many days on board, including pineapple from the Mess garden. Delicious!
The briefing revealed that SOAF were concerned that the rebels were being supported by the Yemenis, who in turn were being supported by the Soviets. It was also rumoured that the Yemenis had managed to get an ex RN CMS, similar to Yarnton and abandoned when the British left Aden, back into working order. This could be a threat to SOAF forces, including a large number of seconded British Officers and to us. Weapons and ammunition were probably being transported along the coast in Dhows or Booms to supply the rebels. Our job was to aggressively patrol the coast, boarding and searching vessels for arms and also to act as a deterrent. We were also told that if we got caught in an engagement in this undeclared war, it might spark an international incident. We could only open fire if attacked and we had positive identification of the attacker. At the same time we were told of a possible plan to attack the rebel held coastal town of Rakhyut, with which we might be able to assist!
At the briefing we met a Captain in SOAF, Spike Thornton, a weather beaten Rhodesian who had been a mercenary in every lost cause since the Korean War. We also met Jeremy Raybould wearing the rank insignia of a Lieutenant Commander in the SOAF Navy. The bearded Jeremy had been a short service Officer in the RN who signed up to be the Sultan’s “admiral” in charge of the fledgling navy, which consisted of just one armed Boom (a large Dhow). The armament consisted of six .50 calibre Browning heavy machine guns. We had met Jeremy briefly in Bahrain, where he would go for R and R and on one occasion to have his bullet wounds attended to! He and Spike accompanied us back to the ship, where we entertained them for a few happy hours in the wardroom. Spike told us of his experiences as a mercenary and something of his life in Oman. He “owned” a crayfish bed along the coast which he protected from poachers with improvised anti personnel mines which he made from used beer cans. He took away one of ours and returned it the next day as a mine (without the explosives.) This became a Wardroom trophy.
Jeremy was a delightful man, full of funny stories and tales of working with his all Omani crew. He lent me his expensive camera so that I could record events as they happened.
The next morning a RAF lorry carrying stores detonated a land mine on the very same road we had taken the day before, which I believe killed an Omani driver. Clearly the rebels had watched our activities on the previous day, had descended from the Jebel under cover of darkness and laid the mines to catch us the next time.
We sailed on patrol and commenced intercepting and boarding dhows under the cover of our Bofors gun. We met no resistance and found no arms and left the boarded vessels with a present of fresh water. One particular vessel sticks in the memory. We could detect the stench from over a mile away and the Boarding Party were none too pleased at the prospect of boarding and searching a vessel topped up with months old dried fish, perhaps destined to be offered as Bombay Duck at a Curry House in UK! Even circling the vessel from 100 metres out was a trial.
After a few days we were given a rendezvous position along the coast and proceeded there to meet the Armed Dhow. We anchored off the shore next to a SOAF coastal camp. We launched one of the ship’s Gemini dinghies and a lucky few got ashore to sample the delights of totally unspoiled scenery with hardly a soul around. One wizened old Askari or Baluchi warrior was seen proudly strolling along the beach carrying a pearl inlaid flint lock that must have been in his family for centuries. We also met some of the mysterious SAS “observers” operating with SOAF. A short runway had been flattened on the beach, marked by stones and sure enough a small SOAF army cooperation aircraft landed, exchanged people, dropped stores and flew away again.
Later in the day the SOAF Boom arrived and rafted up with Yarnton, so we could move easily back and forth between the two ships. Jeremy was full of anticipation of the coming action and wanted to give his crew a treat. Could we lend him a film projector and a film, which he would show on the upper deck of the Boom. The crew consisted of uneducated Omani seamen who had no knowledge of the outside world. We lent them a film that was set in the Belgian Congo with Congolese fighters attacking trains and raping white nuns. The Arab word for a black man is, translated literally, slave. The activities depicted in the film were simply not possible to imagine for these simple Omani men and the train was a thing of wonder.
Meanwhile we discussed our plans for Rakhyut and sailed the next morning.
As we approached the rebel held town we made preparations. In Yarnton, we set ourselves up to give the Boom radio controlled instructions to guide him through the narrow harbour entrance in the dark using our navigation radar. Our instructions were to remain outside the range of any defensive fire but we had to get in close for control of the Boom to be effective. In the Boom they rigged the Brownings all along one side for simultaneous firing like a broadside. They also rigged a fire with a large drum of water suspended above it. When asked what this was for, we were told it was to cook the Crayfish that would be the crew’s treat and reward after the battle.
The plan unfolded. Well after midnight we approached the coast and controlled Jeremy’s Boom into the harbour. He then proceeded to steer a curving course round the harbour blazing away blind with all six Brownings on low elevation. This awoke the defensive guns on the cliffs above the town and the Soviet supplied Shpagin 13.5mm heavy machine guns started to fire at the Boom, who returned fire. At the same time a Flight of SOAF BAC 167 Strikemasters checked in on frequency at exactly the right time. We called them in to attack the Shpagins, using the gun flashes as targets.
Jeremy made his escape under our control and we met at sea. He and the crew were unharmed and exhilarated after the action. The crayfish were cooked and distributed to the crew and as a reward for our help, Yarnton was given 50 of them, more than we could eat at the time and almost too many for the one large refrigerator in the main passageway.
SOAF awarded us all a Shemagh, the green check Arab head dress they used in the field. We wore them entering harbour in Manama on our return and I quickly found it was the ideal head warmer, worn the Arab way, during a long cold middle watch on the open bridge. I still have it today!
