Evening star., 1942-09-23
BY RAIDER W1NGEr.


NEW YORK R.-Hard- Living
British fisherfolk are helping to
sweep the shipping lanes clear of
enemy submarines along the East
Coast Of the United States.
For several months, without fam
fare and with only one bare of1i-
cial announcement, 4 stable feet
OF dirty little Hull and Grimsby
trawlers have been patrolling vital
sections Of the Western Atlantic.
Slowly and methodically they are
dropping depth charges whenever a
skulking U-boat Is detected. sweep
ing up stray mines and protecting
United Nations merchantmen from
surprise attacks.
But it's been Z bit dull the past
few weeks, SIR" said one sailor.
I'VE haven't spotted the Hun for
days"
For the first time, newspapermen
have been permitted to take look,
ana I have just returned from
aboard . trAwler unomcially dubbed
the Five Star Final. That's be-
cause Of the i've stars on her back.
representing i've submarines she's
sunk since the Namsos evacuation
IN Norway, where her skipper won
his flrst DISC.
A gunner lieutenant of the Royal
Naval Volunteer Reserve, Welsh
football player Of no little renown,
welcomed me aboard. It was night
and the fog was thick enough to
ladle.
He wore his usual seagoing uni
form: A pair Of swimming trunks
and .45 revolver. Re led me down
ladders to the wardroom, which in
size had the same relation to a
cabin that telephone booth has to
. football stadium. USED to be
the hsh hold" he said. Perhaps
you'd prefer the gun deck" I did.
Are No Cruise Ships.
30, on the gun deck, with a great
coat over me, my head on a high
explosive shell and my feet shell
tered under the recoil chamber of
the gun, I slept. These trawlers
are no cruise ships.
A couple Of hours later, just be-
fore dawn, we nosed out of the
harbor. slow speed with a double
watch until the dangerous fog
lifted. A lookout on the tip Of the
bow, . lad from Newfoundland,
peered intently into the murk made
slightly lighter by . dimy rising
sun. His uniform was a pair Of
overall shorts and q life Jacket.
What are you looking for?" I
asked.
Mines, sir" he answered, without
turning his head.
went back and got a lifeiacket.
Crewmen Of the Five Star Final
are dshermen for the most part, lads
who In better days sailed from Hull
and Grimsby and other British ports
Tor Icelandic waters and even the
Grand Banks of Newfoundland.
They, and others now gone, had
been in Namsos, Dunkerque, the
6hetlAnds, North Atlantic winter
conveys and every place where
trouble brewed. Among them were
men wearing Il medals, including
the old man, lieutenant of the
Royal Naval Reserve, who had a
DISC with one bar.
Standing on the bridge fianked
ey handy Lewis machine guns, the
sk1pper commanded his men with q
cultured voice that could rise from
. conversational tone to q roar as
quick as the crack Of . rifle.
Use Short Words.
His crews language, however, left
Aothing to the Imagination. Short
words they used, and mostly with
few letters. It was their basic Eng
dsh. And they looked just like they
talked, burned deep brown by the
sun and blackened by coal from the
engines and grease from the arma-
ments. Uniforms didn't bother
them. Swimming trunks, shorts,
overall pants. just anything and q
tfejacket. That was enough.
They knew their job, they en-
5oyed 1t heartily and did it EN-
eiently with fearsome oaths of hate.
We knew one place where . sub
nartne had been sighted only q
short time before. Lets go have q
look around" said the old man with
Q quick smile, and we headed out.
About here" said the old man
quietly to the seaman handling the
sensitive listening device.
Aye, SIR" answered the seaman.
Engines throbbed for minutes, and
the sea surged under the bows, the
seaman raised his eyes from the in
stfuments. Here, sir"
The old man leaned over the rail
Of the bridge. Action stations" A
In Our