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The rare and important Second World War St. Nazaire raid D.S.M. group of seven awarded to Chief Engine Room Artificer Harry Howard, Royal Navy, who was responsible for scuttling H.M.S. Campbeltown after she had rammed the dock gate - and fortunate indeed to make his escape in M.G.B. 314 - a story related by him under the title “Stand by to Ram” in Carl Olsson’s wartime publication From Hell to Breakfast

Distinguished Service Medal, G.VI.R. (M. 31976 H. Howard, C.E.R.A.); British War Medal 1914-20 (M. 31976 Act. E.R.A. 4, R.N.); 1939-45 Star; Africa Star; Italy Star; War Medal 1939-45; Royal Navy L.S. & G.C., G.V.R., 3rd issue, coinage bust (M. 31976 E.R.A. 1, H.M.S. Cairo), together with Boston War Heroes Day Presentation Gold Medal (Mayor Maurice J. Tobin), 10-carat, dated 10 July 1942, the reverse engraved, ‘Harry Howard’, and Mayor of Salt Lake City Presentation Key, dated 23 June 1942, this engraved ‘Chief Artificer Harry Howard’, minor official correction to number on the second, the earlier awards a little polished, but otherwise very fine and better

The Second World War campaign group of three awarded to his brother Sergeant J. A. Howard, Royal Army Ordnance Corps, who was taken P.O.W. at Dunkirk

1939-45 Star; War Medal 1939-45; Efficiency Medal, G.VI.R., Territorial (7599542 Sjt., R.A.O.C.), these extremely fine (12) £20,000-25,000()

Only 24 Distinguished Service Medals were awarded for the St. Nazaire raid, the vast majority to men of Coastal Forces, Howard’s award being one of three to the Campbeltown.

D.S.M. London Gazette 21 May 1942:

‘For great gallantry, daring and skill in the attack on the German naval base at St. Nazaire.’

The overall movements and events aboard H.M.S. Campbeltown have largely been related in the footnote to the D.S.C. awarded to Warrant Engineer W. H. Locke (see Lot 1197), but luckily for posterity’s sake Harry Howard, a native of Sheffield, later published his own account of the raid in Carl Ollson’s wartime anthology From Hell to Breakfast, from which the following extracts have been taken:

‘At about 1.20 the Engineer Officer, who had been popping up and down from the deck, came to see me in the engine-room and said, “Only about ten minutes more.” I went into the stokehold for a last look round where men were watching the clock and handling the fuel controls. It was silent here except for the droning of the feed pumps and the roar of the oil burners. I made sure every man knew the handhold he was to cling to when the “Stand by to Ram” order came through ... By now the ship was shaking, and above the whine of the engines I could hear the sound of gun-fire. In the same instant the telegraph rang full steam ahead, and we pushed in every ounce of steam pressure we had. The old Campbeltown began to tremble till all the footplates were quivering and rattling. “Now for it,” I thought. My mouth felt a bit dry. Another minute or so, and then the loud speaker blared from the bridge - “Stand by to Ram!” Each man threw himself at his selected handhold, some at steel ladder rungs, others clasping stanchions. In a flickering glimpse I saw the Engineer Officer wedging his body against one of the side ribs in the engine-room, and then I sprang at the big wheel I had picked. But she struck even as I was leaping, and I was flung a full six yards down the engine-room, hitting a Chief Engineer full in the stomach and nearly knocking him out. All the lights went out, leaving only the blue glimmer of emergency lamps. There was an instant stillness, except for the hell that was now breaking loose on deck. The loud speaker called again: “Abandon ship!” That was not the order we expected. We had been told that if we jammed the gate properly, the order would be: “Finished with main engines.” With a sick feeling of disappointment I thought at first we had bounced off the gates (Nobody could know, when we planned this party, whether in fact that might not happen. The specially strengthened bows of the Campbeltown might have given way under the impact). So stopping some of the men who were leaving the stokehold, in case there might have been a slip-up in the order and we might after all still want steam, I rushed up on deck to the bridge to find the Captain. He told me: “Get your men up and away to hell out of it.” And as I looked forward I saw that I needn’t have asked about that order. The Campbeltown was jammed slap into the lock-gate, nearly at the point where it joined the dock wall. Her bows were buried inside the gate, and she was right on the place aimed for on the sketch plan at the conference two days before. As a piece of masterly navigation on the part of the Captain that was the most wonderful thing I have ever seen in all my years at sea. I had no time to look at more or notice what else was going on around me. And there was plenty. The night had gone crazy with flashes and bangs and whistles from flying metal. I just legged it back to the engine-room and said, “It’s all right to come up, and you can get ashore all right from the fo’c’sle head. Beat it, everybody.” Then I went to do the final job to which I had been assigned. That was to unbolt the condenser inlet covers and to open the inlets, so that even if the explosive charges failed to go off, the Campbeltown would scuttle and block the channel into the dock and perhaps tear away part of the lock gate as well, as she sank. I had picked a young E.R.A. to do this job with me, and we worked by torchlight in the empty engine-room, because all the lights had now gone out. We worked quickly, but the job did not in fact take long, because I had previously loosened and removed many of the bolts. As I passed through the engine-room to go on deck for the last time I saw a young electrician busy with screwdriver and torch making some adjustments to the switchboard controlling the explosive fuses. He was whistling softly as though he was merely intent on a pleasantly interesting job. I never saw him again ... ’

Back on Campbeltown’s deck, Howard was compelled to get down and crawl amidst bullets and splinters which were rattling against the armour-plate along the rails:

‘It was bright moonlight and there was a vast pandemonium going on. Mixed with the din of their gun-fire I could hear the Campbeltown’s steam escape blowing off ... There were some wounded men being carried along towards the escape ladders and some dead ... Machine-guns were firing tracers towards us from the top of the lock pumping-house. Suddenly the firing stopped as the Commandos got there and wiped out the German crews with grenades ... The fo’c’sle was on fire, but we managed to get ashore by means of one of the bamboo scaling ladders used by the Commandos. I landed on the plank-covered top of the long deep channel slit into the dock wall which was designed to receive the lock gate. I slipped just as I was stepping off on to the level ground, and some ratings caught me. I could see the glare of the searchlights and gun-flashes that they were holding up a badly wounded Commando officer in kilts, and were getting him to rescue boats ... It is a sight I shall always remember; to see the dark forms of the dead and wounded men being carried aloft on the shoulders of their comrades, silhouetted against the glare of burning buildings and explosions, towards the rescue boats ... I had covered about 200 yards when we were challenged near the corner of some buildings. I flicked the answering colour on my signal torch and gave the password. They were two Commandos, placed there as guides to the boat. They had white armbands on, and stood there as calmly as though they were road cops seeing children safely over a school crossing. They waved us on in the right direction. At the boat a young Lieutenant on the bridge was calling out, “Come along, come along!” and then, “Any more for the Skylark? Any more for the Skylark?” I checked all my men on board, and then went below into the chart-house, where there were wounded men to be attended to. Putting on tourniquets and bandages kept me busy for I don’t know how long ... Then the Germans, who were shooting all over the shop, must have got our range. There were some bangs and crashes on the hull, and suddenly my young E.R.A. said, “I’ve got it chief: they’ve got me.” I looked up quickly from a wounded man and saw in the dim blue light that he had been hit, probably by a shell splinter which had passed through his face ... ’

Conditions aboard M.G.B. 314, commanded by Lieutenant D. M. C. Curtis, with Commander R. E. D. Ryder now aboard, were indeed desperate, all surviving crew having been wounded in one way or another - in fact it was barely possible to move anywhere without treading on the dead or dying, the latter including Able Seaman Savage, the forward pom-pom gunner, who, like Ryder, was to be awarded the V.C. Yet, by a combination of speed, smoke and evasive tactics, Curtis got his command clear, amidst fountains of water thrown up by the shell bursts of the “big guns” in the estuary and a close encounter with a German patrol boat. At last the open sea was reached and a rendezvous made with our destroyers, 314’s battered human cargo being embarked for the final journey home, but not before a gigantic explosion had been heard in the distance, signalling the completion of the Campbeltown’s mission.

In June 1942, Howard was chosen as one of a small party of British war heroes to tour the United States, following which he returned to active service in the Mediterranean theatre of war. His brother, Sergeant J. A. Howard, was taken P.O.W. at Dunkirk and incarcerated in Stalag 20B at Marienburg; sold with a copy of The Art of Jack Russell, with a signed dedication to Howard’s bravery at St. Nazaire.