An outstanding Second World War Greek operations C.G.M. group of six awarded to Leading Seaman G. R. Fuller, Royal Navy, who, though badly wounded, fought his gun to the last aboard the destroyer H.M.S. Wryneck - nor did he ever complain about his stomach and thigh wounds during the 48-hour open-boat voyage that ensued

Conspicuous Gallantry Medal, G.VI.R. (C/JX. 138699 G. R. Fuller, L. Smn., H.M.S. Wryneck); 1939-45 Star; Atlantic Star; Africa Star; Pacific Star; War Medal 1939-45, nearly extremely fine (6) £8000-10000

C.G.M. London Gazette 11 November 1941:

‘For gallantry and distinguished services in operations in Greek Waters.’

Under which heading, and the award of the Conspicuous Gallantry Medal, appears the name of Leading Seaman G. R. Fuller:

‘Though badly wounded, fought his gun to the last, and when his ship was sunk, heartened the survivors by his courage and cheerfulness.’

George Robert Fuller was decorated for his gallantry on the occasion of the loss of the destroyer H.M.S. Wryneck on 27 April 1941, a day that cost the Navy dearly - H.M.S. Diamond and the transport Slamat being sunk on the same occasion, all three ships having come under sustained enemy air attack while conveying British troops from Greece to Suda Bay:

Crete 1941 - The Battle at Sea, by David A. Thomas, takes up the story:

‘The Wryneck, in company with the Diamond, was attacked simultaneously and the pattern of attack upon her closely resembled that made upon the Diamond. Firstly came a raking of the decks with machine-gun and cannon fire, killing and wounding many of the guns’ crews in exposed positions. Secondly, there came the bombing attacks. The first bomb burst near the ship and was followed almost immediately by another explosion close alongside. The destroyer heeled over to port. The stokers’ messdeck forward was shattered and the casualties among the soldiers and the ship’s company were heavy. The Wryneck, like her consort, was also struck in the engine room and she was brought to a standstill, clearly doomed. She filled with water rapidly while the ship was abandoned. In fifteen minutes the destruction was complete. Both destroyers had gone. The Gulf of Nauplia became a scene littered with the grisly flotsam of war at sea.’

As quoted in Greek Tragedy, by Anthony Heckstall-Smith, D.S.C., and Vice-Admiral H. T. Baillie-Grohman, C.B., D.S.O., O.B.E., Fuller was among the few gunners who managed to respond to the enemy attack:

‘Like Diamond, Wryneck’s crew were fooled by the friendly markings on the wings of the fighter that came gliding down out of the sun to sweep her decks with cannon and machine-gun fire. In fact, they were taken so completely by surprise that her 4-inch guns never had a chance to come into action because their crews were all killed or wounded in a matter of seconds. But some of her close-range guns opened up before the alarm sounded on the bridge. And one of them was manned by Leading Seaman Fuller, who after being shot through the belly and thigh, kept on firing until the ship sank under him ... ’

The Wryneck carried a complement of about 120, of whom seven were officers, including Commander R. H. D. Lane, R.N., and 98 ratings were lost in addition to the soldiers, bringing the total to approximately 950 for both ships. Only around 50 of all services were saved, in itself another chapter of courage and endurance - Greek Tragedy continues:

‘Mr. Waldron [Wryneck’s Warrant Engineer], after floating in his lifebelt for half an hour, was hauled on to a raft. Later, he was taken into Wryneck’s whaler which had been lowered soon after she was hit. Two Carley floats were taken in tow, and the whaler continued on its slow search amongst the debris and the dead and living. Its crew paddled around until both rafts were fully laden and until she had 23 men on board, including a Troop Sergeant-Major of the Gunners and Leading Seaman Fuller. That night, when darkness fell, Waldron, Fuller and Gordine and 49 sailors, together with eight soldiers were all who had survived the three ships ... Wryneck’s whaler leaked badly. For a time, the men in her took it in turns to sit on the holes made by the bomb splinters and the machine-gun bullets, while others baled her out with a tin hat. But when they had finished their search for survivors, Mr. Waldron set them to work patching the holes with a half a bar of soap and some scraps of wood.

Throughout the whole afternoon of Sunday, 27 April, those who had strength enough pulled slowly on the four oars. Paddling and drifting, with the two Carley floats laden with men in tow, the whaler made its way roughly eastwards. Only very roughly, for the compass had been smashed by a cannon shell.

It was hot, thirsty work rowing the heavy, water-logged boat, but there was only a damaged keg half filled with contaminated water for the 23 men. There were also two tins of biscuits, a case of bully beef, a box of Verey pistols and cartridges, and a boat’s ensign.

The wind freshened considerably towards dusk and the sea rose with the wind. And as it rose, it kept picking up the Carley floats and hurling them against the whaler so that they were in danger of wrecking one another. Just before dark, Mr. Waldron was forced to cast the floats adrift for they were threatening to sink the whaler.

At 2.30 the next morning, the two rafts with their 50 men were picked up by Griffin, which had been sent out from Suda in search of them. But the Griffin did not find the whaler.







During the night, the wind blew hard from the west, and since there was no material from which to make a sea anchor, Waldron turned her stern to sea. The weary sailors kept enough way on her with the oars to prevent her broaching to.

Then, Waldron picked a suitable star down wind, and managed to steer by it. But the weather worsened and she shipped so much water that the men worked in shifts baling her out. They were soaked to the skin and bitterly cold for most of them were wearing only their singlets and trousers. Waldron kept waking them up to take turns on the oars. Between times, they huddled together and slapped one another to keep their circulation going.

For most of the night Waldron sat at the tiller or beside the coxswain with the seas and spray breaking over him as he conned the whaler by the stars. And all the time he kept Fuller warm by the heat of his own body, for Fuller had lost a lot of blood from the wounds in his belly and thigh, and was trembling with the cold.

When the dawn broke, Waldron thought he recognised the hump of Milos Island against the pale sky. Although he reckoned it must be 30 miles away, he shaped course for it. Some time after sunrise, they sighted an Ajax class cruiser heading south at full speed in company with a destroyer. They fired Verey lights, flashed the lid of a tin in the sun, and waved the ensign. But the ships did not see them, and their disappointment was bitter as they watched the two ships disappear over the horizon. Later, they saw two more destroyers and three Blenheims, but they, too, failed to see the signals. Fortunately for them, several Stukas and Ju. 88s were equally unsuccessful at spotting them.

During the morning, they were cheered a little when they retrieved an orange from the sea. Dividing it, they shared it amongst them to augment their meagre ration of bad water.

At noon, the whaler appeared to be closing a small rocky island. And since it needed by a slight alteration of course to steer directly for it, Waldron told his men that he had made up his mind to make for it.

They were all nearing the point of exhaustion, and, although he never complained, Fuller had grown so weak that Waldron doubted that he would survive another night at sea.

As the whaler approached a small cove in the island at about four o’clock, they saw a caique lying at anchor, and a little group of people, standing on a narrow ledge of rock, waved them in. These turned out to be three Army officers with some soldiers and Greeks, who had escaped from the Attica beaches, and who said they were making for Crete that night.

Their caique was small, and only by removing most of her ballast was it possible to make room for Waldron’s party, except Leading Seaman Fisk and three ratings. These four, who were fitter than the rest, offered to stay in the whaler which, together with the caique’s skiff, was to be taken in tow.

Until sundown, they slept amongst the rocks wrapped in blankets from the caique. Then, fortified with a bottle of strong Greek wine, they hoisted the mainsail and staysail, started up the motor, and set course for Suda Bay.’

The gallant Fuller eventually received his C.G.M. at a Buckingham Palace investiture held on 16 November 1943.