Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

‘I found a sea-boot containing a torn-off leg, which I threw into the river, lying between the pom-pom and the forward ready-use locker.  I looked around for the limb's former owner and found him lying on the deck near the site of my first action station. The leg had been ripped off obliquely downward from the inner side of the groin, leaving so short a stump that it was not possible to apply a tourniquet. To try and stop the bleeding I bound a field dressing on it as high and as tightly as I was able, then covered the rest of the wound with more field dressings. Except for injecting a syrette of morphine, there was nothing more I could do for him so I continued on my round’

The fate of Able Seaman A. R. C. Stephens, as described by Sub. Lieutenant Christopher Worsley, R.N.V.R., also of M.G.B. 314

An outstanding and poignant Second World War Dunkirk operations D.S.M. group of four awarded to Able Seaman A. R. C. Stephens, Royal Navy, who, having been decorated for gallant deeds in M.T.B. 102 - which boat survives to this day in her wartime colours - was posthumously mentioned in despatches for his great gallantry as loader on M.G.B. 314’s forward pom-pom alongside Bill Savage, V.C., in the famous St. Nazaire raid

Distinguished Service Medal, G.VI.R. (JX. 131369 A. R. C. Stephens, A.B., R.N.); 1939-45 Star; Atlantic Star; War Medal 1939-45, M.I.D. oak leaf, extremely fine (4) £12000-15000

D.S.M. London Gazette 16 August 1940:

‘For good services in the withdrawal of the Allied Armies from the beaches of Dunkirk.’

Mention in Despatches (Posthumous) London Gazette 21 May 1942:

‘For great skill and dauntless devotion to duty as Second Coxswain of a Motor Gun Boat. He was mortally wounded while helping at the pom-pom.’


Albert Richard Carver Stephens, who was from Himbleton, Worcestershire, where his mother ran the Post Office, entered the Royal Navy as a Boy 2nd Class in the training ship Ganges, aged 16 years. Having then served for three years in the battleship Lord Nelson, in the destroyer Dainty on the China Station, and in the cruiser Norfolk in the West Indies, he was early recruit to Coastal Forces following the outbreak of hostilities in September 1939.

Dunkirk - D.S.M.

By the time of the Navy’s part in the evacuation of Dunkirk in May 1940 (a.k.a. Operation “Dynamo”), Stephens was serving as a gunner in Motor Torpedo Boat 102, commanded by Lieutenant Christopher Dreyer, R.N., one of the great Coastal Forces’ leaders to emerge from the conflict and who ended the War with a D.S.O. and two D.S.Cs to his credit.

And of particular interest to readers will be the fact that M.T.B. 102 survives to this day and recently led the armada of vessels to take place in the Diamond Jubilee Pageant on the Thames. She is cared for by The M.T.B. 102 Trust and wartime and present day photographs of her may be found on the Trust’s website. According to the Trust, 102 crossed the Channel eight times in May-June 1940 and, ‘when the destroyer H.M.S. Keith was disabled by a bomb from a Stuka, Rear-Admiral Wake-Walker transferred to M.T.B. 102, using her as his flagship for the last two nights of the operation, directing the incoming and outgoing vessels at Dunkirk from the bridge. As she carried no Rear-Admirals flag, one was created with an Admiralty dishcloth and some red paint, allowing her to fly the appropriate flag. M.T.B. 102 was the third to last vessel to leave Dunkirk, ending her crucial and distinguished service during the evacuation under the command of Lieutenant Christopher Dreyer.’

This hastily created Rear-Admiral’s pennant also survives to this day.

Meanwhile, a glimpse of Stephens in action in “Dynamo” may be found in the words of Christopher Dreyer, who later recalled he was ‘a dearly loved character’:

‘Every time we left Dover, Stephens clambered into his turret and sat there, behind his .303 machine guns, until we got back; nothing would budge him. On one occasion he was looking up at the Stukas, his guns aimed and ready, waiting for them to come into range, the inevitable cigarette drooping from his mouth. I noticed his mouth moving and leant back to hear what he was saying. Over and over again, he was droning “Come on, yer bastards,” just to himself, longing to have a crack at them.’

And by way of reminder of the dangers faced by 102 and her consorts - in this case on 1 June 1940:

‘Rear-Admiral Wake-Walker, hurrying to Dunkirk itself in the M.T.B. which had picked him up, was dive-bombed, but not hit. All up and down the long, narrow channel of the roadstead there was havoc and the thunder of bombs. All up and down the roadstead were long and lamentable pools of oil which marked the new ship graves; and, with them, floating on the tide, was the pitiful wreckage of smashed boats and empty rafts, of battered furnishings and splintered planks. Within little more than an hour we had lost three destroyers, a Fleet minesweeper and a gunboat, and four destroyers had been damaged ... ’ (Dunkirk, by A. D. Divine, refers).

Stephens was awarded the D.S.M., Dreyer writing to him in the following terms:

‘My warmest congratulations on your very well deserved decoration. The way you cared for your guns and your complete confidence in them, and the way you stuck to it in that uncomfortable little turret all those times, were a great help to me and gave me confidence that when any Jerry came too close he would get all he deserved - so that I was perfectly happy from that point of view on those trips.

I hope the Jerries have not hit your pub. The best of luck to you.’


St. Nazaire - Posthumous “Mention”

On 26 February 1942, Commander R. E. D. Ryder, R.N., was mysteriously summoned to a meeting in London chaired by the dynamic new Director of Combined Operations, Lord Louis Mountbatten. Glancing around at the assembled V.I.Ps, Ryder took a seat at the back of the room and listened intently as Mountbatten unveiled an outlandish plan, involving Commando troops of the Special Service Brigade, to destroy an unspecified enemy port with a destroyer packed with explosives. Without preamble Mountbatten went on to announce that Commander R. E. D. Ryder, R.N., would command the operation's naval forces. Having coolly confirmed his acceptance, Ryder was introduced to his army opposite number, Lieutenant-Colonel A. C. Newman. Immediately after the meeting, Newman proceeded to bombard him with all manner of questions regarding the naval side of the operation. Still ignorant of the target's location, an exasperated Ryder demanded to know the name of the port they were supposed to strike. “Haven't they told you?”, asked the astonished Newman, “it's St. Nazaire.” Thus Operation “Chariot” was born. The strategic value of St. Nazaire was paramount to the Kriegsmarine, as it contained the only dry dock on the Nazi-occupied Atlantic seaboard capable of berthing the mighty battleship, Tirpitz. This vast facility, known as the 'Normandie' Dock after the French transatlantic liner, measured 1148 feet in length and 164 feet across, and formed a passageway between Europe's largest wet dock, the Bassin de Penhoet, and the Loire estuary. At either end it was sealed by sliding lock gates, or 'caissons', strong enough to withstand the tremendous outside water pressure and accidental collision by ships.

After the London meeting Ryder and Newman had just one month to organize the raid down to the last detail. In no time they had set up their headquarters in the conservatory of a sea-front hotel, complete with eye-pleasing Wrens, at Falmouth. The chosen destroyer, launched in 1919 as the Buchanan, and now renamed H.M.S. Campbeltown, was sent to Devonport for the necessary conversions. Captain W.H. Pritchard, M.C., R.E., who had long studied the caisson demolition problem, and Lieutenant N. Tibbits, D.S.C., a naval explosives expert, arranged for a four and half ton high explosive charge to be installed in Campbeltown just behind the forward gun supporting pillar. This ensemble was then enclosed in a specially constructed steel tank and encased in concrete to prevent the Germans dismantling the charges after ramming.

Meanwhile, work commenced on gathering a suitable armada of Naval craft, chiefly M.Ls to carry the Commandos but, owing to her being equipped with a radar set and echo sounder, Ryder chose to take M.G.B. 314 as his headquarters ship, to lead the assault force over the Loire estuary mudflats and thence to battle.



A 'C' class boat of mahogany hard-chine construction, built by the Fairmile Company, M.G.B. 314 was commanded by Lieutenant D. M. C. Curtis, R.N.V.R. Powered by three 850 h.p. supercharged engines, producing speeds of up to 26 knots, she was heavily armed with a Rolls semi-automatic 2-pounder aft, two twin Y2 inch heavy machine guns amidships and a 2-pounder Vickers pom-pom forward, at which Able Seaman W. A. “Bill” Savage was to win his V.C. and Stephens his posthumous mention in despatches.

As it happened, Stephens joined M.G.B. 314 as a replacement gunner for Savage just a few days before the raid. James G. Dorrian’s Storming St. Nazaire takes up the story:

‘As he [Bill Savage] was unable to carry out his duties, Curtis brought on board, as a replacement for Bill, the extremely competent 'regular' gunnery rating, Able Seaman “Lofty” Stephens. Although he had been relieved by Stephens, Bill remained on board and, when he was sufficiently recovered, returned to his post on the pom-pom, in his turn displacing Stephens. The new man should, by rights, have left at this point; however with “Chariot” coming up Curtis was loathe to part with such a valuable rating and so Stephens remained with the crew. Ironically, and each man having had legitimate excuses to be elsewhere, it was these two who were destined to die within feet of one another, right at the fag end of the action and with the gunboat almost within sight of the open sea and home.’

On 18 March, M.G.B. 314 joined the attacking force at Falmouth, which comprised Campbeltown, M.T.B. 74 and sixteen M.Ls, carrying Commando squads divided into small demolition, protection and assault parties detailed to specific dock side tasks. Two Hunt-class destroyers, H.M.S. Atherstone and H.M.S. Tynedale were assigned to escort the expedition on its outward journey. All told, the strength of the raiding force was 345 Naval officers and ratings, 257 Commandos, a four-man Medical Team, three Liaison Officers and two members of the Press - nearly 170 of whom would be killed in the coming enterprise.

At 1400 hours on Thursday 26 March 1942, the raiding force set sail from Falmouth in anti-submarine formation under a protective umbrella of R.A.F. Spitfires. To conserve fuel, M.G.B. 314 sailed on tow of H.M.S. Atherstone. At dawn the following morning Gordon Holman, a Fleet Street man aboard M.G.B. 314, heard the Gun Boat's engines roar into life. On the bridge he discovered that a U-boat had been sighted and that Tynedale was already steaming off in pursuit, with Atherstone following two miles astern. After dropping a pattern of depth charges, Tynedale's Captain felt sure he had achieved a kill. However it was later discovered that the U-boat had feigned death by lying motionless on the sea bed for over five hours, in which time its Commander had reported three British destroyers sailing on a westerly bearing. Fortunately, he made no mention of the M.Ls and this misleading intelligence drew out five Mowe-class destroyers from St. Nazaire, which otherwise posed a serious threat to the whole operation. Shortly afterwards two French trawlers had to be boarded and sunk by gunfire. It was not uncommon for the Kriegsmarine to station observers with transmitters aboard these vessels, besides which Ryder could not afford to chance the possibility of betrayal by one of the trawlermen. Accordingly Tynedale and M.G.B. 314 were assigned to policing roles, and took the fishermen aboard. In due course, however, they were transferred to Atherstone and returned to England, where many of them joined the Free French.

At 1830 hours Lieutenant Briault's M.L. developed engine trouble and his boat was forced to retire. His Commandos, however, were transferred to Lieutenant Falconar's Torpedo M.L. The rest of the voyage passed without incident and the ratings and Commandos settled down to last minute checks of their equipment. At 2000 hours, 75 miles off St. Nazaire, M.T.B. 74 and M.G.B. 314 discarded their tows. The Gun Boat drew alongside Atherstone to take Ryder, Green (the navigator), Newman and his staff aboard. The escorting destroyers broke off and the convoy assumed attack formation with M.G.B. 314 leading Campbeltown and two columns of M.Ls. The rear was brought up by Lieutenant Nock's Torpedo M.L. and Micky Wynn's temperamental M.T.B. 74. As arranged H.M. Submarine Sturgeon was sighted at the mouth of the Loire at 2200 hours. Force Chariot was on course and on time.

Everything now depended on Lieutenant Green's calculations. Working away in the M.G.B.'s small chartroom, he skilfully plotted a course over the mudlflats. In Campbeltown, Lieutenant Tibbits sealed the old destroyer's fate by activating the eight hour explosives package. Towards midnight, as the ships cruised on between the closing banks of the Loire estuary, the drone of Bomber Command's aircraft engaged in a diversionary raid could be heard overhead. At 0122 hours, Force Chariot's luck began to run out. Two shore searchlights swept the river and settled on Campbeltown. Other lights were switched on and soon the whole force was illuminated in a blaze of light. A German Aldis lamp winked out an identification demand. Standing on the bridge of M.G.B. 314, Leading Seaman Pike signalled back in German temporarily baffling the defenders. Still Force Chariot was pushing on to its target. Eventually the Germans, unable to identify the ships in mid-river, opened fire. Pike continued to signal, and Ryder attempted to fire a Verey light of similar colour to the one currently being used by German shipping. But the game was up: about this time Lieutenant Tom “Lizard” Boyd, R.N.V.R., C.O. of one of the M.Ls, casually commented to his Coxswain, “This is a queer do,” to which he received the prompt rejoinder, “It'll soon be a bloody sight queerer, sir.” And so it proved.

Aboard Campbeltown Lieutenant Commander Beattie rang the ship's bell to signal 'open fire'. The Iron Cross was struck and the White Ensign run up in its place. Klaxons sounded throughout the fleet and the night became alive with the sight and sound of battle. The biggest problem for Savage, who had already started his epic night's work, was identifying the enemy positions against the blinding glare of searchlights - but we may be sure he was ably assisted by his loader Stephens.

Steaming in at 18 knots and with the port column only 100 yards from the bank, Ryder began to wonder how long his vessels could withstand the awesome rifle and machine-gun fire from the left bank, not to mention the 75 mm., 150 mm., 170 mm. and 6 in. howitzers of the coastal batteries. Yet incredibly every ship sailed through it all, but Campbeltown was suffering badly. Two of her Oerlikon Crews were hit, the Quartermaster and Coxswain were killed in the wheelhouse, and her 12-pounder high angle gun was blown into the sea along with the crew of a 3-inch mortar. Bullets and shells, and red, white and green tracer were hitting the ships from all angles. Blinded by searchlights, Beattie steadfastly followed in the wake of M.G.B. 314, as they passed the East Jetty of the Avantporte. Here the Gun Boat came under the gunwhales of an anchored Sperrbrecher (Barrage Breaker), which opened fire. Savage and his pom-pom team spraying Sperrbrecher 137 from end to end silenced every weapon on board, including its powerful 88 mm. gun. It was indeed a remarkable feat of gunnery bearing in mind they were firing from a pitching and moving platform. Closing fast on the Normandie Dock's massive southern caisson, Curtis swung the Gun Boat to starboard allowing Campbeltown to increase speed in the final yards. He turned through 360 degrees giving those on board a perfect view of Campbeltown as she cut through the anti-torpedo boom. At the last moment Beattie ordered a slight change in direction to ensure hitting his target square on, leaving the nearby opening to the Old Entrance clear for the M.Ls. At 0134 hours Campbeltown smashed into the caisson tearing back forty feet of her bows.

Her main mission accomplished, 314 now dropped off Newman and his staff at the Old Entrance, while Ryder also came ashore to ascertain how effectively the Campbeltown had been placed. But while he was away disaster befell most of the M.Ls, one after the other falling victim to the horrendous point-blank fire - in fact four M.Ls were destroyed within a matter of minutes. Meanwhile, too, 314’s decks were getting crowded with survivors from the Campeltown, so that by the time Ryder returned, it was time to head for open water - but not before witnessing the fate of two more M.Ls at the Old Mole, where the Gun Boat also came under heavy fire. And at this moment, perhaps above all, Savage, his No. 2, Able Seaman F. A. Smith, and Stephens, his loader, put on a magnificent display of courage and were a true inspiration to all - for as Curtis brought his exposed pom-pom team to within 250 yards of the Old Mole, they fought a savage duel with the all-powerful Gun 63 it its concrete emplacement, all the while regardless of the web of tracer around them: Gun 63 was silenced, several rounds finding their way through the emplacement’s embrasure.

Continuing on her journey, but her decks now a shambles, 314 came under coastal artillery fire while passing the Les Morees Tower at 24 knots, yet the Gun Boat’s luck continued to hold. In fact, as referred to above, it was at the ‘fag end of the action’ that disaster struck the gallant pom-pom team, when 314 had the misfortune to run into a heavily armed enemy trawler. Dorrian’s Storming St. Nazaire takes up the story:

‘Quickly working up to her full speed, the gunboat raced away, on this occasion sorely missing the firepower of her after pom-pom and powered machine guns. Up on the fo'c'sle gunners Savage and Smith had only seconds in which to train and fire their gun before the German ship drifted behind the shelter of the gunboat's stubby superstructure [so, too, Stephens, as their loader]. ‘It raked us from stem to stern,' recalls Frank Smith, 'with small-arms fire, bullets and shrapnel flying around, pinging off guard rails and metal fittings, and dull thudding sounds as the bullets hit the splinter mats which were secured to the sides of the bridge. The action was sudden and unexpected; we were no more than a hundred yards away when she opened up on us. We only had time to fire a few rounds off before she was abaft the bridge, and the pom-pom couldn't bear.’

And then, almost as suddenly as it had begun, the brief but violent encounter was over. A small fire was visible on the enemy's deck, while the gunboat, sporting a new collection of holes, appeared to have got away with a clumsy encounter which could have spelled the end for all of them. The engines were all right, there was no vital damage to the structure, nor was there any evidence of fatal casualties. It was only when Frank Smith attempted to train the pom-pom fore and found it would not budge that it was discovered that Bill Savage, deserted as ever by 'lady luck', lay slumped across the elevating wheel. Thinking at first that Bill had merely fainted, Frank was greatly distressed to learn that his fellow gunner, with whom every danger of the night had been shared in equal lots, was in fact dead. Hit by a small shell or by chunks of shrapnel, Bill had died instantly from a massive, open chest wound, during the very last throes of an action whose enviable list of honours would include a Victoria Cross in his name, in recognition of the courage displayed by so many of the ratings. Ordinary Seaman Bill Whittle fetched a blanket and covered Bill's body with it. Later Peter Ellingham and Ordinary Telegraphist Reynolds would be detailed to prepare the remains for an eventual transfer to a destroyer. With Bill dead and the loading number, Able Seaman Stephens, dying nearby, Frank was left alone on the gun until such time as Curtis could detail a relief ... ’

Before too long, the destroyers Atherstone and Brocklesby hove into view and, it being decided to scuttle 314, her survivors were transferred to the latter destroyer - among them the mortally wounded Stephens, who died in the ship’s sick bay that night. His body was returned to his home village and interred in St. Mary Magdelene Church’s cemetery.

Savage’s body was retrieved from 314 and buried at Falmouth, the award of his posthumous V.C. being announced in the London Gazette 21 May 1942, not just for his own bravery but on behalf of ‘many others unnamed, in Motor Launches, Motor Gun Boats and Torpedo Boats, who gallantly carried out their duty in entirely exposed positions against enemy fire at very close range.’

Men like Stephens, who was awarded a posthumous mention in despatches.

Sold with a quantity of original documentation and photographs, including the recipient’s M.I.D. certificate in the name of ‘Able Seaman Albert Richard Carver Stephens, D.S.M., H.M. M.G.B. 314’, dated 21 May 1942, and related Admiralty forwarding letter to his mother, which states ‘this Seaman served as Second Coxswain. During the action he showed outstanding zeal and devotion to duty, doing invaluable work wherever it was most wanted. He was mortally wounded while helping at the pom-pom’; his Buckingham Palace memorial scroll, in the name of ‘Able Seaman A. R. C. Stephens, D.S.M., Royal Navy’; the above quoted letter from Christopher Dreyer, congratulating Stephens on the award of his D.S.M., undated, sent from H.M.S. Beehive, Felixstowe; a Christmas card with photograph of M.T.B. 102 at speed, inscribed by the recipient, ‘To Aunty from Dick’; and a fine selection of childhood and Naval career photographs (approximately 25 images).

Revised estimate £6000-8000