Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

An exceptional Second World War escaper’s O.B.E., Great War Dardanelles D.S.C. group of seven awarded to Commander J. B. Woolley, Royal Navy: having been landed for the attack on the Turkish Orkanieh Battery in February 1915, for which Lieutenant-Commander E. G. “Kipper” Robinson, R.N., was awarded the V.C., he was decorated for his subsequent bravery under a murderous fire in H.M.S. Triumph’s picket boat that April - and, uniquely, added the O.B.E. to his accolades for a remarkable escape from Japanese captivity in October 1944

The Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, O.B.E. (Military) Officer’s 2nd type breast badge, silver-gilt; Distinguished Service Cross, G.V.R., hallmarks for London 1915; British War and Victory Medals, M.I.D. oak leaf (S. Lt. J. B. Woolley, R.N.); 1939-45 Star; Pacific Star; War Medal 1939-45, generally very fine or better (7) £2000-2500

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, Exceptional Naval and Polar Awards from the Collection of RC Witte.

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O.B.E. London Gazette 27 March 1945:

‘For great courage and outstanding devotion to duty.’

D.S.C. London Gazette 16 August 1915:

‘These officers took part in the picket boat attack on 18 April 1915.’

John Blaxland Woolley was born in February 1898, the son of a clergyman from Winchfield, Hampshire, and was appointed a Midshipman in battleship H.M.S. Vengeance direct from Dartmouth in August 1914, in which capacity he was present at the landing of the Plymouth Marine Battalion at Ostend later that month and, en route to the Dardanelles via Egypt, in operations off the Cameroons - the whereabouts of the recipient’s 1914-15 Star remains unknown.





V.C. action - the attack on the Orkanieh Battery

But his first real experience of coming under fire was in the Dardanelles, where Vengeance arrived in early 1915, in time to participate in the bombardment of the Ottoman forts on 18-19 February, when accurate enemy fire caused damage to her masts and rigging. A few days later, Woolley was back in action on a special mission ashore. Stephen Snelling’s The Naval VCs takes up the story:

‘Lieutenant-Commander Eric “Kipper” Robinson was torpedo officer of the Vengeance, an elderly battleship flying the flag of Sir John de Robeck, and carrying in it Carden’s belligerent chief-of-staff, Commodore (later Lord) Roger Keyes. Aged 32 and a veteran of the fighting in China, where he had been wounded at the turn of the century, Robinson was soon to acquire a reputation for bravery which was to mark him out as 'the foremost of Keyes's thrusters.

Returning from the foray on 26 February, de Robeck decided to complete the destruction of the Orkanieh battery, between Kum Kale and Yeni Shehr on the Asiatic shore, which had been the target for the first day's bombardment. Handing Robinson the task, he gave him a fifty-strong force of seamen to act as demolition party with the same number of marines as a covering force. They landed unopposed at 2.30 p.m. and advanced along the line of the Mendere river. They passed a cemetery and descended into a horseshoe-shaped depression where they came under heavy fire from snipers and a large force approaching from the direction of Yeni Shehr. A salvo from one of the ships anchored offshore temporarily quietened the Turks moving up, but the landing parties were still under fire.

At this juncture Robinson would have been justified in abandoning his mission. The way back to the coast was threatened and the ground ahead hotly contested by an unknown number of enemy troops. But he decided to press on. Dodging the snipers, he led his party towards a slight rise, known as Achilles Mound, beyond which lay the main battery. Officers aboard Vengeance saw them stop half-way up the slope and take cover from renewed fire coming from Yeni Shehr. All that is, except for one man, in a white uniform, who was seen to scramble up the hill and disappear into what looked like a crater. Moments later, he emerged, his calm, unhurried descent followed by a loud explosion.

The lone figure was Eric Robinson. Anxious not to expose his men unnecessarily to the enemy fire, he had left Midshipman John Woolley in charge while he advanced into the gun position which, as luck would have it, was unoccupied. There, he fixed gun-cotton charges to two guns and detonated them with a slow fuse that allowed him just enough time to escape. Then, making the most of the effect of a protective bombardment by the ships stationed offshore, he led a small party into the main battery and succeeded in destroying one of the 9.4-inch guns. All of this was viewed with a mixture of awe and anxiety by de Robeck and his staff. To Bertram Smith, captain of Vengeance, Robinson appeared to be ‘strolling around ... under heavy rifle fire ... like a sparrow enjoying a bath from a garden hose’. Even as the seamen and marines were making their way back to the boats, Smith and de Robeck ‘were happily arranging our recommend for his V.C.’. But their optimism was quickly dented by a signal from the raiders, stating that they were held up by Turks in a large domed tomb.

The control could see the tomb [wrote Smith] and I could just distinguish its top ... It was invisible at the guns, but I was able to note its whereabouts in the treetops, and went down to let off a 6-inch lyddite. The range was short and the range-finder laid it exactly, so the first round sent the tomb and fragments of its inmates, both ancient and modern, flying heavenwards. Using the burst as a starting point there was no difficulty in taking the guns on to any other target to get our people clear.

Extricating themselves with only a handful of casualties, Robinson's party made it back to the waiting ships, where their action was already being counted a success. Later, the Official Historian would credit them with the destruction of two anti-aircraft guns on Achilles Mound and the last remaining 9.4-inch gun in the Orkanieh battery.’



Suicidal picket boat mission

But it was for his subsequent gallantry in a suicidal mission in Kephez Bay that Woolley was awarded his D.S.C., having volunteered for the operation as a member of the Triumph’s picket boat, once more under the immediate command of Lieutenant-Commander E. G. “Kipper” Robinson, V.C.

The splendid work of our submarines in the Sea of Marmara was carried out in the teeth of great and incessant dangers, and both we and our Allies the French lost a number of boats in the narrow and closely guarded passage of the Dardanelles. And it was the loss of one of these vessels, the E.15, which led to a most brilliant exploit on the part of the two little steam picket boats belonging to the Royal Navy.

On the night of 16 April 1915, the E.15, under Lieutenant-Commander T. S. Brodie, R.N., was detached from the flotilla lying at Tenedos and sent into the Straits to reconnoitre a newly laid minefield about eleven miles up. The Turks, however, were keeping a very vigilant watch, and it was not long before the submarine was compelled to dive in order to escape their searchlights. Thus submerged, she continued to creep steadily up the Straits, but the strong head current gradually threw her off her course, and just off Kephez Point, where the land shelves out and the navigable channel is greatly reduced in width, she unfortunately ran aground. The water shallowed so imperceptibly that she was hard and fast, with her conning tower well out of the water, almost before her danger was realised, and the forts ashore at once opened fire demolishing the conning tower, killing the Commanding Officer and a number of men, and leaving the survivors no alternative but to surrender.

When it became apparent that the Turks were attempting to refloat the submarine, steps were immediately taken to frustrate this intention. Aircraft tried to drop bombs on the stranded vessel; submarines went in and endeavoured to torpedo her; battleships entered the Straits and fired two score rounds from their heavy guns, but all to no purpose. When darkness fell, destroyers were sent in to see if they could get within range, but they were discovered and driven out by the heavy fire that was concentrated on them.

Next morning Vice-Admiral de Robeck made a signal to the effect that two small steamboats, one from the Triumph and one from the Majestic, were to be fitted with outrigger torpedoes, manned by volunteer crews, and sent in that night to accomplish what aircraft, submarines, battleships and destroyers had failed to do. Throughout the fleet there was very little expectation that those who ventured out on this exploit would ever return, but there was no lack of volunteers and lots had to be cast to choose the boats' crews from among them.

By nightfall all was ready, and at 2200 the little boats, with sides easily penetrable by a rifle bullet, got underway. The whole enterprise was fraught with the greatest danger, seeing that the boats had to steam ten or eleven miles through a narrow channel dominated by the Turks on both sides, and that the enemy had been well warned the previous day of our intention to destroy the submarine by some means or another. For some time, however, all went well; and then, while they were still three or four miles from their goal, they were suddenly lit up by the glare of a searchlight. Instantly a torrent of fire was opened on them, and the sea, now brilliantly lit, seemed as though it were lashed by a terrific hailstorm. As if by a miracle the boats remained unscathed, forging their perilous way ahead against the strong current, the centre always of a dazzling blaze of light and the target of guns that increased in number as they advanced. As they got nearer and nearer to the stranded submarine, fresh searchlights came into action from directly ahead, the enemy hoping by this means to blind the helmsmen and conceal the whereabouts of the E.15.



Presently, however, one of the Turks made a slip and threw his light full on to the submarine. It was all our men wanted. The Majestic’s boat was then no more than three hundred yards distant from it, and Lieutenant Godwin put her end on to the target, slowed her down, and dropped his first torpedo. Unfortunately the glare of the search lights confused his aim, and the weapon missed, and a few seconds afterwards the Turkish gunners scored their one and only hit of the night with a shot that carried away part of the boat's stern. She instantly began to fill, but Lieutenant Godwin still had another torpedo in its slings, and he was determined to use it. Putting on steam he again approached the submarine, and taking careful aim, was rewarded after a few seconds by a great explosion which occurred well under water, just forward of her conning tower. After such an attack no submarine would have any remaining value save as waste metal.

In the meantime the Triumph's boat had observed the misfortune of her consort and hurriedly steamed up alongside. All the men of the damaged craft were taken aboard, including one, the only casualty, who had been mortally wounded. The forts and batteries ashore had redoubled their efforts when the torpedo struck home, but not another shot found its intended billet, and when the Triumph’s boat, now doubly loaded, set off down stream, the enemy gunners, for some reason best known to themselves, concentrated their fire on the drifting and tenantless wreck of the Majestic's boat.

Vice-Admiral de Robeck congratulated those concerned in a general signal, and the Admiralty telegraphed Lieutenant-Commander Robinson's promotion to Commander for his services. In addition, a D.S.O. and two D.S.Cs were awarded, including Woolley’s, while the boats' crews all received the D.S.M.

Further Great War actions - Caspian Sea 1919 operations

Having then been present in Vengeance at the main landings at Cape Helles on 25 April 1915, and in support of Allied troops during a Turkish attack on Anzac Cove on 19 May, Woolley removed to the cruiser Europa in June and thence, in September, to the cruiser Chatham, in which latter capacity he remained actively employed until returning to home waters with an appointment in the battleship Inflexible in March 1916. He was subsequently present at Jutland, when the Inflexible was involved in many duels and lucky to survive a torpedo attack.

A period of service on convoy duties in the sloop Delphinium having followed in March-September 1917, Woolley ended the War in Coastal Forces, as a C.O. in C.M.Bs, and it was in the same capacity that returned to active service in the Caspian Sea in 1919, when borne on the books of Theseus III, once more under the command of “Kipper” Robinson, V.C., who was C.O. of the C.M.B. carrier Sergei. Here, besides a few skirmishes at sea and being shot at by Red agents, the most dangerous episode of the campaign appears to have been induction to honorary membership of the Terek Cossacks at Baku - an event that lasted from 8 p.m. until dawn, and involved the consumption of frightening quantities of vodka; less popular was enforced attendance at court martials and executions, for as one officer later recalled, their hosts certainly did not know how to hang a person properly. Having then handed their C.M.Bs over to their Russian comrades in the late summer of 1919, some of the C.M.B. officers and men endured a few days as captives of the “Green Guard” peasant army before continuing their journey home. Woolley, meanwhile, had been mentioned in despatches, ‘for valuable services rendered in dealing with the disarming of the Centro-Caspie Flotilla on 1 March 1919’ (London Gazette 11 November 1919), and advanced to Lieutenant.

Japanese P.O.W.

Having been placed on the Retired List in the interim, he was recalled on the renewal of hostilities in the rank of Commander and given command of the gunboat Scorpion at Shanghai, where, in October 1940, he removed to another gunboat, the Peterel, before coming ashore as Senior Officer (Intelligence). And it was in this latter capacity that he was brought to notice ‘for his successful and valuable achievement in forming an anti-sabotage corps of civilians for voluntary duties to carry out watch parties on board liners and coastal ships whilst at the Port of Shanghai’ (his service record refers).

And he was similarly employed at the time of the Japanese occupation of the port and the various Treaty Concessions in December 1941, when, following the gallant last action fought by the Peterel under Lieutenant S. Polkinghorne, R.N.R. (see Dix Noonan Webb, 8 December 1994, Lot 403), he was incarcerated at the Naval barracks at Hongchew, where, following a heated argument with the senior Japanese officer, he was able to obtain medical assistance for Peterel’s wounded.

Indeed Woolley would remain a vociferous critic of the Japanese throughout his captivity, not least after arriving at Woosung P.O.W. camp in early 1942, where fellow prisoners included Sir Mark Young, the late Governor of Hong Kong - it was he who refused to sign a Japanese order not to escape, an example quickly taken up by Woolley and other British prisoners, all of whom were punished.



First escape

Much of Woolley’s time at Woosung was spent alongside Commander (afterwards Rear-Admiral) Winfield Scott Cunningham, U.S.N., who had been captured on Wake Island, and who later later published an account of his wartime experiences under the title Wake Island Command, in which Woolley receives extensive mention, not least on account of his frequent escape attempts, the first of them in March 1942, when he managed to break out with Cunningham, Lieutenant-Commander C. D. Smith, U.S.N., a Dutch engineer by the name of Teters, and a Chinese cabin boy called Loo - a combination which Cunningham described as a good:

‘Commander Woolley was also familiar with China, and was a stout fellow in the classic British tradition - I had seen him stripped to the waist on one of the coldest days of the winter, scrubbing himself cheerfully in freezing water, and had mused that as long as men like Woolley were about there would always be an England.’

He continues:

‘The plan was to assemble one night at an empty barracks, make our way across an open field to the electrified fence enclosing the camp area, trench under it, climb over a barbed wire fence beyond, and make for Pootung. Simpla as is sounds, we spent nearly two weeks in preparations’.

Luckily, Sir Mark Young, ‘whose privileges included a few of life’s extras’, was able to help the would-be escapers with additional rations and clothing, so by 11 March all was set. And much to the fore in the actual breakout was Woollley, who risked all by digging the trench under the electrified fence - a few months later two other prisoners attempting the same route died enacting the same work - and that night the party achieved ten miles, reaching the banks of the Yangtze. They were, however, betrayed by a local who had promised to get them a sampan, and the hut in which they had sought shelter was suddenly surrounded by troops, and an officer, wielding a samurai sword, ordered them out. Subsequently passed on to the dreaded Kempeitai, their future looked bleak:

‘But on the third day our hearts sank. We were taken out, handcuffed, and lined up before the jail. A piece of strong cord with a slip-noose was placed around each of our necks, and a scowling guard held the end of each cord. Then we were loaded into cars to begin what we feared was our last journey on earth.’

On this occasion, however, they were returned to their camp, where they were forces to re-enact their escape, much to the humiliation of the camp commandant, a vile man by the name of Colonel Yuse. But their hopes were again dashed when afterwards they were taken to the infamous Bridge House in Shanghai, H.Q. of the Kempeitai, to await trial - scene of some of the Japanese secret police’s worst tortures and atrocities. Conditions were indeed appalling, and though regularly dragged out of their cells for interrogation, none was actually beaten or tortured.

Four weeks later, they were taken to a military court at Kiang-wan, where they all came face to face with ‘four hard looking characters’. The ensuing hearing lasted seven hours, following which they were all placed in solitary confinement and had to wait for seven weeks before hearing of their fate - in the case of Cunningham, Smith and Woolley ten years’ imprisonment, while the Dutch engineer was given two years and the Chinese boy one year. And they were duly carted off to the Shanghia Municipal Gaol to commence their time - a not uncomfortable fate in light old Shanghai-style concessions still being available to prisoners, although all that changed in February 1943, when all ‘enemy nationals’ were rounded up and imprisoned and the Japanese took up full time residence at the Gaol.

Second escape - home run

Over two years later, on 6 October 1944, and having obtained at great risk four hacksaw blades with which to cut through their cell bars, Woolley and three men, and Cunningham with another three, made a successful breakout, assisted by home-made ropes to lower them to ground level. Cunningham’s team was quickly recaptured, but Woolley and his comrades were luckier, reaching Chungking, from where they were repatriated, a remarkable escape in respect of the distance covered in territory still generally under Japanese control, and even more so in view of of one of his party having sustained a double hernia while stretching to cut the bars of his cell just before the breakout.

Woolley was awarded the O.B.E. and returned to duty with an appointment at the Southampton base Shrapnel in June 1945, prior to being released from service in August 1946.