Naval General Service 1915-62, 1 clasp, Yangtze 1949 (D/SSX. 815328 E. Saunders. A.B. R.N.) good very fine
£2500-3000

Able Seaman Eric Saunders was one of the “Few” who served in Amethyst throughout the entire Yangtse incident. He was frequently involved in activities on board as illustrated by the following extracts taken from Yangtse Incident by Lawrence Earl:

‘As early as mid-May Kerans reserved a corner of his mind for thinking about a possible break-out from the river in case his negotiations for a safe-conduct should fail. With this in his mind he decided to get the ship into seaworthy shape as soon as possible. He appointed Garns and Saunders, under the supervision of Strain, as a damage-control party, which soon became jocularly known among the ship’s company as the Wrecker’s Union. But Kerans did not mention to anyone his secret fears that a break-out might eventually become the only avenue to freedom. Garns and Saunders pitched in with great enthusiasm. They busily stuffed hammocks with mattresses and blankets and old clothing - anything they could lay their hands on that could be spared. Then they took these bulging, sausage-like wads and stuffed them into the gaping shell-holes. They used from one to three of these at a time, according to the size of the hole. After that they shored up the damaged area with planks, using the stock of timber - which they cut down to the proper sizes - which, fortunately, had been taken aboard in Malaya some time previously. In a month they had succeeded in adequately filling in eight holes along the waterline; but one waterline hole, dead astern and directly over the rudder, resisted all their efforts.

Garns was a short, sandy-haired man of about thirty years of age. “Here I am, stuck.” he said sadly to Saunders. He had been in the Navy for twelve years. “One thing I can tell you, though: the Navy will never get me again after this. No, Sir!” Saunders grinned. “Don’t be an ass, Garnsey. Don’t you know you’ll never get out of this predicament? Don’t you know you’ll never be demobbed now?” Garns gave him a long, sideways look of suspicion. “You’ll be soldiering on, me lad,” he said, “long after I get back to Civvie Street. And, brother, am I going to have the laugh on you!”

Kerans was feeling pretty good about the break-out now that the decision had been made. He had worked out all the angles, quietly and alone, during the long, tiresome wait. He drew up a list of seventeen petty officers and key ratings, and ordered them to meet in his cabin at about eight that evening. The seventeen trooped silently into Kerans’ small cabin. There was not much room to spare. The door was shut, and almost at once the air became stifling.

“I’m going to break out to-night at ten,” Kerans said matter-of-factly.

When Amethyst finally slipped her mooring, a brief maelstrom of firing, mostly inaccurate and causing much damage to the Communists themselves, enabled Kerans to steer Amethyst neatly through and under and around the wild barrage and make good his escape. Reports came up from the engine-room that Amethyst was flooding badly from the one waterline hole, right in the stern, which Garns and Saunders had been unable to repair. Pumps were put into action to keep the water in check. Kerans prayed: “Dear God, don’t let it flood so badly that it will put paid to my steering.”’

After an anxious dash downriver Amethyst rejoined the fleet on 30 July, and eventually reached England on 1 November, 1949, where the Commander-in-Chief, Plymouth, notified the ship’s company that their conduct had been ‘up to standard’.
 
Sold with original duplicated ‘Memorandum’ of thanks from Lieutenant-Commanders Kerans, addressed to all officers and crew of the Amethyst, from the Royal Naval Hospital, Plymouth, 18 December 1949; a copy of Lawrence Earl’s Yangtse Incident; three photographs and a newscutting with group photo of Saunders and others after attending a showing of the subsequent film in Liverpool.