Orders, Decorations and Medals

Five: Chief Petty Officer W. Hexter, Royal Navy

China 1900, no clasp (W. Hexter, Lg. Smn., H.M.S. Bonaventure); British War Medal 1914-20 (159153 W. Hexter, C.P.O., R.N.); Royal Navy L.S. & G.C., E.VII.R. (159153 William Hexter, P.O. 1 Cl., H.M.S. Cumberland); Royal Navy Meritorious Service Medal, G.V.R., 1st issue (159153 W. Hexter, C.P.O., “Michael”, Patrol 1918); Roumania, Cross of Military Virtue, 1st Class, contact marks and occasional edge bruising, nearly very fine or better (5) £700-900

Ex Captain K. J. Douglas-Morris collection, 12 February 1997 (Lot 468), but the Roumanian Cross of Military Virtue not then included.

William Hexter was born in Teignmouth, Devon in August 1875 and entered the Royal Navy as a Boy 2nd Class in January 1891. Advanced to Able Seaman in April 1895, he served off China in H.M.S. Bonaventure in July-December 1900, when he was advanced to Leading Seaman and, on his return to home waters, was among those to be presented with the China Medal by H.M. the King.

Having then been advanced to Petty Officer 1st Class in early 1906, and been awarded his L.S. & G.C. Medal in October 1908, he was serving in the torpedo boat destroyer Staunch on the outbreak of hostilities in August 1914, in which ship he would have served in the Dardanelles in the following year. At which point, however, he transferred to the Michael, another torpedo boat destroyer, is difficult to ascertain from his service record, but it was either in August 1915, in which case he was present at Jutland, or possibly in July 1917. Either way, he was undoubtedly present in the Michael on the occasion she destroyed the U-110 off Northern Ireland on 15 March 1918, in company with her consort the Moresby. Beating the U-Boats by E. Keble Chatterton takes up the story:

‘On 25 February there set out from Wilhelmshaven U-110 on her third voyage. She was the newest thing in submarines which Germany owned: a big, powerful creature displacing 1000 tons below water. Her length was 225 feet, she mounted two guns, carried four torpedo-tubes, and could travel at 16½ knots on the surface. Her commanding officer, Korvetten-Kapitan K. Krol, both by seniority and experience, had quite a reputation. Three more officers and 35 men completed his ship’s company.

Now U-110 cruised some time between Ireland and Scotland and on the morning of 15 March, being then some 30 miles west of Malin Head off the Ulster coast, torpedoed the Royal Mail liner Amazon (10,037 tons). Not far off were H.M.S. Moresby and Michael, two splendid destroyers, patrolling. At 9.50 a.m. they picked up Amazon’s wireless S.O.S., hurried at full speed, and 15 minutes later found her already low in the water.

Moresby just had time to pick up survivors before Amazon went down, then joined Michael in making for the approximate position where U-110 had been sighted by the liner. All this had to be done with great promptness lest the lurking enemy with other torpedoes should sink both destroyers. Moresby now dropped four depth-charges, Michael let go a couple, but then it was time for Moresby to leave the scene. She must hurry into port and land the shipwrecked people who crowded her decks, whilst Michael combed the Atlantic single-handed. She waited about but the time sped by and nothing like a submarine rose in the ocean swell.

Meanwhile aboard the invisible U-110 things were not faring too well. After having torpedoed the Amazon, Kroll observed one of those two destroyers on the horizon and did not like the look of her, so he decided to hide, took his submarine down to 150 feet and presently it seemed as if Vesuvius, Mount Etna and four other volcanoes were suddenly erupting. For those six depth-charges could scarce have been better aimed.

They shook her violently with their explosions, put the after hydroplane motor out of gear so that the boat lost trim, took a steep dive at an angle of 45 degrees and then more vicious than a wilful mule she went bow first to the incredible depth of 334 feet.

Certainly in October 1917, when U-58 off Queenstown surrendered to American destroyers, she had already sunk to the preposterous depth of 278 feet and withstood the pressure. But 334 feet? Kroll was horrified. Especially when she now developed serious leaks and a stream of water some half-inch in diameter was being forced into the control-room.

Thoroughly scared, Kroll now had but one desire: to bring his submarine up to lesser depths as quickly as possible. Ordering his men aft to trim the boat, he blew tanks, and she rushed to the surface. What now? If she remained there, surely from the lofty bridge of a destroyer she would be visible. Try escaping back to Germany on the surface all the way, giving headlands and patrols a wide berth?

Well, that had been accomplished early in the war by one or two exceptionally resourceful commanders. But today there would be too many hours before nightfall. No chance of getting clear away under cover of dark. Besides, the English now were relentless with their patrols. Those destroyers at any moment ... Bang! Boom! Bang! Shells falling around. A fresh danger had developed.
It was 11 a.m., Michael was scouring the sea at high speed and suddenly, when five miles distant, sighted this blot on the waves. She opened fire. Moresby now returned and did the same with such accuracy that Kroll, against his will, dived again. But not for long. He was between the destroyers and the deep sea: whichever he chose would seal his fate ... ’

Hexter was duly mentioned in despatches for services in action with enemy submarine (London Gazette 14 September 1918 refers), and was awarded the M.S.M. for services on convoy escort and patrol duties in the period 1 July to 11 November 1918 (London Gazette 11 April 1919 refers). Moreover, he received the rare distinction of the Roumanian Cross of Military Virtue, 1st Class (London Gazette 17 March 1919 refers). He finally came ashore from the Michael as a Chief Petty Officer in April 1919; sold with research, including confirmation that his missing 1914-15 Star was held a private collection in 1997.