‘We shifted fire to the trawler, and on closer inspection changed our minds on what we should call it. It was more like a KT-ship - a fast, well-armed transport of about 1500 tons - from its heavy armament, and was certainly pumping out an unpleasant variety of shells. But our 6-pounder had got his teeth in, and Howe was crashing round after round into the hull. Smoke was rising and spurts of flame began to show. But suddenly the situation changed. We seemed to check way and begin to drag through the water. “Good God! We’re aground!” Corny claimed ... ’

Gunboat 658, by Len Reynolds, O.B.E., D.S.C., refers.

A fine Second World War Coastal Forces D.S.M. awarded to Able Seaman G. E. Howe, Royal Navy, who was decorated and mentioned in despatches for his gallantry as a 6-pounder gunner and gun captain in M.G.B. 658 in the Adriatic and off Italy in 1944: fortuitously for posterity’s sake, a chapter of active service recounted in his skipper’s published wartime memoirs Gunboat 658 - in which Howe receives frequent mention and full recognition

Distinguished Service Medal, G.VI.R. (A.B. G. E. Howe, C/JX. 374146), together with M.I.D. oak leaf, extremely fine (2) £2500-3000

D.S.M. London Gazette 30 May 1944:

‘For outstanding courage, leadership and skill in Light Coastal Craft in many daring attacks on enemy shipping in enemy waters.’

The original recommendation states:

‘British Coastal Forces units patrolling the west coast of Italy on the nights of 21-22, 22-23 and 23-24 January 1944, encountered enemy forces on each occasion. As a result of these actions four E-Boats were sunk or probably sunk, 2 ‘F’ Lighters destroyed and one ‘F’ Lighter and two E-Boats damaged … Able Seaman Howe was the 6-pounder gun layer during the actions mentioned above. His conduct was exemplary and his firing exceedingly accurate.’

Mention in despatches London Gazette 11 July 1944:

‘For outstanding leadership, courage and skill in Light Coastal Craft in successful engagements with the enemy in the Adriatic.’

George Edward Howe, a native of Manor Park, London, joined M.G.B. 658 on her building and commissioning in March 1943. His captain was Lieutenant Cornelius “Corny” Burke, R.C.N.V.R., who would end his career in 658 with three D.S.Cs to his name, but it was 658’s Midshipman, Len Reynolds, who would later publish an account of the gunboat’s wartime career - and himself take command and win a D.S.C. before the end of hostilities. In fact, 658’s gallant crew amassed a total of five D.S.Cs, five D.S.Ms and eight “mentions”.

Reynolds first refers to Howe in Gunboat 658 at the time of his joining at Weymouth, when the slightly-older-than-usual rating proved himself on the shooting range before being selected to man the 6-pounder. M.G.B. 658 having completed her trials, she was ordered to the Mediterranean, where, as described in detail by Reynolds, she saw considerable action. One such action was fought in July 1943:

‘The most exciting of our patrols took place on the night before we returned to Malta for engine overhaul and routine maintenance (27-28 July 1943). We received orders to bombard the railway station and sidings at Taormina, right by the sea, and set out at 1930 with Norman Hughes (the S.O.) aboard us, and Doug (657) and Bob Davidson (659) astern. It was soon obvious that the R.A.F. had been there first, as there was a big fire blazing at Taormina already. However, we crept in to 500 yards, and then straightened up parallel with the coast. On the signal “Flag 5” everyone opened up with all the guns, and shells simply pumped into the target. “Y” gun (the 6-pounder) [Howe], was handled so enthusiastically that its barrel was hot very quickly, and the captain of the gun (Howe) had to cease fire for a moment to let it cool.

I was so intently watching the target that my attention was distracted from the course we were steering, until a quiet word from the coxswain made me look round quickly to see a huge rock looming up ahead, rather similar to the stacks at Torbay. We had run right across the bay and were in danger of hitting the other side. Rapidly we ceased fire, swung round and continued firing again. Some answering fire was immediately received, but only from light guns and machine-guns, which we ignored. In the twelve minutes of the attack, our 6-pounder [Howe] got off ninety rounds, each one laid and trained on the target, and considerable damage had been done; and, we thought, much fear and despondency had been aroused in the garrison of Taormina.’

Actions of January 1944 - D.S.M.

Of Howe’s D.S.M.-winning exploits in late January 1944, Reynolds describes a successful encounter off Civita-Vecchia on the night of the 21st-22nd:

‘Three enemy ships came into sight … I put down my glasses and murmured into the telephone: “All guns. Enemy in sight, fine on port bow. One F-Lighter with an E-Boat on either beam. Stand by.” The range closed slowly and still the F-Lighter did not start shooting. Surely he must see us soon … “Dogs from Wimpey - open fire!” I pressed the gun buzzer, and I was just as surprised as ever at the immediate and deafening response. It seemed as if my pressure on a buzzer in fact pressed every trigger on board. And this time we were five boats, all concentrating on one target (the F-Lighter). Obviously the first he knew of us was when our shells began to hit.

What a sight it must have been for him! Five streams of converging, relentless tracer, spread in an arc about him so that he could not possibly reply to more than two. But reply he did and desperately too. We in 658 were not surprised that he selected 657 and ourselves as his targets: we were the first two inline. It was a shock, however, to feel the thuds of shells hitting the hull and to see a blue flash at the pom-pom turret on the fo'c'sle, all from the first salvo.

I noticed that 657 ahead had stopped firing as the bearing had moved well aft, so I pressed the buzzers once more to check fire, and watched the target as we swung in a tight turn in Doug's wake. The others followed round, and almost at once we were closing in for the second run. Christon was settled into the seat of the pom-pom turret, and Tony had Preston and Bray Shaw in the charthouse, doing what he could for them. I moved a spare lookout up to act as a loading number, and we opened fire again. This time the E-Boats appeared; it was a mystery to me that they had taken no part in the first exchange.

Perhaps they had been so surprised that they had felt it wise to keep out of the way. Now, however, they both opened fire, and one suddenly swung towards our line and, moving very fast and firing all the way, it shot wildly between 659 and 655, almost ramming Pick's bows. Both these boats hammered him hard as he went but he disappeared into the darkness, leaving his comrade-in-arms to fight it out alone. We were never sure whether he had decided that he had already had enough of this particular battle, or whether his steering was out of action, or whether he really was trying to ram 655.

The other E-Boat was very roughly handled by our three leading boats, and soon stopped firing and lay motionless with tongues of fire licking at the superstructure. The F-Lighter, all fight gone out of her, also lay stopped, burning fiercely … ’

Of another action south of Capraia on the night of 23-24 January 1944, Reynolds states:

‘We gathered speed and swung round to the new course. Corny explained his plan. He wanted to get ahead of the convoy and cut across its bows to make an attack from inshore, where the low clouds and land background would make us almost invisible … “We can make out at least five targets now, Corny-range 1000 yards.” By the time we had closed to 500 yards, the convoy at last appeared in our glasses. There were six F-Lighters in two columns, and one E-Boat astern was the only escort we could see … Meanwhile the P.T. had disengaged to the south-west at such a speed that the E-Boat sighted her and immediately opened fire. This was ideal for us - a perfect diversion. Within a minute we had closed in to 100 yards from the E-Boat on his “blind side”. I don’t think he ever knew what hit him. Certainly the first he knew of our presence was the arrival of a full broadside from both ourselves and 655. Shells smacked into him and within thirty seconds he had stopped, with fires springing out from the engine-room and bridge.

One brave man sent a last defiant spray of 20mm. shells towards us, but one burst from the pom-pom silenced even this belated reply. I swept round with my glasses. The F-Lighters were no longer in two lines, but had scattered rapidly and were firing bursts of tracer in every direction. Over the west, smoke which the P.T. had made in her diversion was spreading towards the convoy and already obscured the first few ships. The confusion was magnificent. The enemy did not know friend from foe, so we should be able to enjoy ourselves … In this way, we tackled first another E-Boat which hardly replied to our attack, and then an unpleasantly aggressive larger ship which was pumping out shells of every calibre up to 88mm. Howe down at the 6-pounder was as accurate as ever, and we watched Christon (still substituting while Preston was in hospital) pouring devastating pom-pom fire into its hull. Very soon, though, the return fire got so heavy that we disengaged to the northward and, while doing so, Pick lost contact with us … Immediately we moved on to the next Lighter, and found the same lack of fight. But there was at least one ship which intended to make us work hard for our results, and we could just pick her out as a good deal larger than any of the other ships in the convoy. As we finished a second run at the Lighter, we felt the shudder of shell-hits and knew it was time to disengage. We had been hit about the water line in the engine-room, and Last sent up a stoker to ask for extra assistance “as he had four feet of water in the bilges.” It took only a few minutes to plug the holes, and soon the water was pumped out and we were out of the convoy heading for a rendezvous with Pick and Doyle.

We looked back. The blackness of the horizon was speckled with small fires, and tracer still wavered in every direction as the trigger-happy convoy beat off imaginary attacks.

It had been a hectic half-hour in their midst, and we had no casualties and very little damage. Our troubles were not over. The weather broke and our return voyage took four hours in the teeth of high seas and a howling gale. It was 0830 when we arrived, soaked to the skin and over-weary, at the entrance to Bastia harbour … Next day an Intelligence report reached S.O.I.S. from the R.A.F. and other sources, that one F-Lighter and an E-Boat had been sunk, three others damaged, and (much to our delight) a 900 ton minelayer was aground near Vada Rocks, inshore of the position of the action. This must have been the larger ship we saw towards the end of the action. We had bagged the biggest ship yet destroyed in this area by our boats.’

Another firefight - April 1944 - M.I.D.

As for Howe’s subsequent mention in despatches, awarded for his part in an action with E-Boats on the night of 7-8 April 1944, Reynolds continues:

‘On 7th April (1944), we sailed for the notorious San Vincenzo-Vada Rocks area, with Tim Bligh as S.O. in 662, 640 (Cam MacLachlan) and three P.T. Boats. It was a bright moonlit night, and I for one was not very keen on the sort of suicide attack which might arise if we met one of those unpleasantly powerful convoys we had got involved with a month before … Tim was anxious not to let the P.Ts get in the way if we had to attack with gunfire, so he ordered them to move astern of us. But when the target came into sight through our binoculars, it seemed to consist only of one large trawler and one E-Boat. The range was three and a half miles at this first sighting and, while we closed, Tim decided that the trawler was large enough to attack with torpedoes … It was our job to deal with the E-Boat, leaving the others free for their torpedo attack. When we knew Cam had fired at the main target, we opened fire. The range was 150 yards. It seemed incredible when we thought that they had sighted us at nearly three miles! The E-Boat hardly replied to our fire. The pom-pom and three Oerlikons hit from the first salvo, and only after a few seconds it careered towards us, apparently out of control, blazing like a torch from end to end. It passed right under our stern, and the gunners soon ceased fire when they saw they were wasting ammunition on a stricken ship.

The last we saw of that E-Boat was over to the south-west, where it lay stopped, on fire to the waterline, and (the most unkind cut of all) under fire from the trawler. We shifted fire to the trawler, and on closer inspection changed our minds on what we should call it. It was more like a KT-ship (a fast, well armed transport of about 1500 tons) from its heavy armament, and was certainly pumping out an unpleasant variety of shells. But our 6-pounder had got his teeth in, and Howe was crashing round after round into the hull. Smoke was rising and spurts of flame began to show … ’

Howe - ‘our quiet very reliable and accurate 6-pounder gunner’ - came ashore from 658 in July 1944.

Sold with original Admiralty letter of notification in respect of the recipient’s award of the D.S.M., dated 20 June 1944, together with related Buckingham Palace forwarding letter, his M.I.D. certificate, and a paperback edition of Gunboat 658, by L. C. Reynolds.