Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

An outstanding Second World War Coastal Forces Coxswain’s D.S.M. group of six awarded to Temporary Acting Boatswain H. Unsworth, Royal Navy, who was mentioned in despatches for M.T.B. 15’s daring foray into Ostend’s anchorage in September 1940 and decorated for M.T.B. 31’s costly fire fight with E/R Boats off Boulogne in March 1942, on which occasion he was severely wounded

He subsequently took over the onerous duties of Coxswain to “Walker R.N.” in H.M.S. Starling, and added a second “mention” to his accolades for his coolness and skill at the wheel during the course of 2nd Escort Group’s destruction of 15 U-Boats, including a spectacular tally of six ‘kills’ in 10 days in early 1944

Distinguished Service Medal, G.VI.R. (J. 102468 H. Unsworth, R.N.); 1939-45 Star; Atlantic Star, clasp, France and Germany; Defence and War Medals 1939-45, M.I.D. oak leaf; Royal Navy L.S. & G.C., G.VI.R., 1st issue (J. 102468 H. Unsworth, P.O., H.M.S. Vulcan), minor contact wear, generally good very fine (6) £1800-2200

D.S.M. London Gazette 21 April 1942.

Henry Unsworth was born in Liverpool in February 1906 and entered the Royal Navy as a Boy 2nd Class in May 1921. Advanced to Able Seaman in December 1924, he volunteered for the Submarine Branch in the late 1920s, and, in addition to other appointments, served in L. 71 and Otis. In March 1935, however, on being advanced Acting Leading Seaman, he returned to regular seagoing duties in the H.M.S. Royal Sovereign, followed by time aboard the Inglefield in the Mediterranean, when he was advanced to Petty Officer. He was awarded his L.S. & G.C Medal in January 1939.

Shortly before the outbreak of hostilities, he removed to the Coastal Forces depot ship Vulcan, thereby setting in motion his gallant part as a Coxswain in early M.T.B. operations.

M.T.B. 15 - mention in despatches

Unsworth joined M.T.B. 15, under Lieutenant J. A. Eardley-Wilmot, R.N., at Beehive, Felixstowe in July 1940, and quickly saw action. The Battle of the Narrow Seas, by Peter Scott, takes up the story:

‘Soon afterwards, on 8 September, 1940, came the first successful torpedo attack by M.T.Bs to be made in this war. The three boats which took part were M.T.B. 17 (Lt. R. I. T. Faulkner, R.N.), M.T.B. 14 (Lt. Hamilton-Hill) and M.T.B. 15 (Lt. J. A. Eardley-Wilmot, R.N.).

“We were sitting on the lawn one afternoon,” writes Eardley-Wilmot, “when a message was sent up for us to return immediately. At the Base we were told that a convoy of thirty merchant ships had been sighted by aerial reconnaissance and was now either in or approaching Ostend. When we got over the other side I nearly got lost, as I tried to attack what I thought was a floating dock, which turned out to be a wreck. I managed to catch up, and after stooging around for about three hours without seeing anything, ‘Pip’ Faulkner called us up and told us we would go into the anchorage of Ostend. Ham-Hill broke down and lost contact with us about fifteen minutes later, but the two of us went on in. The R.A.F. were having a lovely time when we got there and lots of muck was flying into the air. We found all the ships at anchor and ‘Pip’ flashed ‘Disregard my movements’ and went in to attack. I turned off to the largest thing I could see and fired one fish, with the speed of the current as deflection. Both he and I hit with one torpedo, then we came round and did another attack individually. Unfortunately there was so much explosive business going on, because of the R.A.F. and also because, we found out later, I had hit an ammunition ship, that it was impossible to see the results. However, on the way out the examination vessel started firing at us. Our organisation in those days was that all the stokers were armed with rifle grenades. As we passed about forty yards off (I hadn't seen the blasted thing till the last moment) these boys had a whale of a time, and what with rifle grenades and our Lewis guns we gave them quite a good innings. Next day an aircraft reported three new wrecks in the anchorage, but whether we got all three I do not know.” ’

Unsworth was mentioned in despatches (London Gazette 1 January 1941, refers).

About two weeks after her daring exploits at Ostend, M.T.B. 15 was mined and sunk in the Thames Estuary, Unsworth being injured on the same occasion.

M.T.B. 31 - D.S.M.

In January 1942, Unsworth joined M.T.B. 31, under Sub. Lieutenant J. Weeden, R.N.V.R. As it transpired, he was again to find himself aboard a sinking boat, following a run-in with E/R Boats off Boulogne on the night of 3-4 March. Peter Scott was aboard one of the M.G.Bs sent to M.T.B. 31’s rescue. He takes up the story:

‘I told him {Lieutenant Gamble, R.N.] that I wanted to go to sea with the boats if they were going, and he said that they had already gone. Harpy Lloyd had taken John Weeden and Robert Varvil after a small convoy, and it appeared that one of the boats was in trouble. John Hodder and 'Flatters' Sidebottom were just off this very minute to the rescue, and if I would like to go with them I would have to run.

Ten minutes later, and not twenty minutes since my train had pulled into Dover station, I was steaming out of the harbour entrance on the bridge of a "C" Class M.G.B. (322), under the command of Lt. J. H. Hodder, R.N.V.R., while close astern followed M.G.B. 330 (Lt. D. C. Sidebottom, R.N.V.R.).

M.T.B. 31, commanded by John Weeden, had made a signal to say that she was near the North-East Varne buoy and required immediate assistance. In bright moonlight we set course for the North-East Varne, and soon after we sighted a dim flicker of light and turned towards it. In a haze of smoke we came upon the burning wreck of the M.T.B. Some of the crew were still on board and shouted to us as we drew alongside. “There's a raft with the wounded on it about a quarter of a mile away to the eastward,” they said, and Sidebottom went off to find it, while we made fast alongside the burning boat.

The First Lieutenant was on board organising a fire party, and they were ready to take the hoses which had been laid out in readiness on our decks.

Apparently they had successfully torpedoed a ship, but had been pursued by E/R boats and badly shot up. John Weeden had been seriously wounded and so had the Coxswain [Unsworth] and one or two others, and the Seaman Torpedoman had been killed. The boat had run clear before the engines packed up and the fire took hold.

Macdonald, the First Lieutenant, an imperturbable New Zealander, had placed the wounded, including the Commanding Officer, in the Carley Raft, while he and the able-bodied members of the crew had abandoned ship by holding on to the splinter mattresses, which had been cut adrift to act as additional rafts. For some time they had lain off, but then the boat did not blow up and the fire seemed if anything to be abating. So Macdonald, who was a great swimmer, swam back and climbed aboard, and finally got some more of the crew back, and began to tackle the fire. It was at this stage that we had put in our most welcome appearance.

It seemed that M.T.B. 31 was not past salvage. The fire, though not yet extinguished, was no longer spreading. The engine-room and tiller-flat were slowly flooding, but it was only a short distance to Dover. We began to tow her alongside, while we continued in our efforts to put out the fire. These efforts finally led us down through the charred chart-house into the smoke-filled forward mess-deck. The leader of the fire party was 'Teek' (Sub.-Lt. H. Teekman, R.C.N.V.R.), one of the Maintenance Officers from the Base, who plunged down into the smoke below without a thought and finally finished off the fire.

Behind the bridge was the body of the Seaman Torpedoman lying face downwards in a huddle of shiny black oilskins. He had been killed instantly, and there was nothing that could usefully be done but leave him for the present in the corner where he had fallen.

Towing became awkward off Dover, where, in the mist which had set in, we found we had been swept to the north of the harbour, and the popple on the sea made the two boats crack together with ominous splintering noises. By the time we had passed the breakwater the stern of the M.T.B. was 2 feet under water, and only our forward speed, we thought, prevented her from sinking altogether. We finally beached her in the entrance to the Wellington Dock. She took the ground about five yards from the shore, and John Hodder's M.G.B. had to leave her there, as the tide was falling and he almost became stranded himself. There were three of us left on board 31 which, with her stern on the bottom, was almost vertical in the water. We looked like remaining perched precariously on her bows till morning, but some very senior officers who had come down to meet us passed a ladder across to us, over which we were able to scramble ashore.

That was my first introduction to the Coastal Forces. For their work that night both Weeden and Macdonald were awarded the Distinguished Service Cross. Their success in sinking a merchant ship was one of an increasingly large number which the M.T.Bs. had recently been scoring in the Straits.’

Unsworth was awarded the D.S.M.

Coxswain to “Walker R.N.” in H.M.S. Starling

On recovering from his wounds in March 1943, Unsworth reported to Captain F. J. Walker, R.N., in H.M.S. Starling. The most famous U-Boat-killer of them all, Walker won four D.S.Os prior to his early demise as a consequence of the strains of command. For his own part - that is in the crucial role of taking Starling’s helm - Unsworth clearly made his mark, for on Walker’s recommendation, he received a C.-in-C’s commendation on 14 October 1943 and a second “mention” (London Gazette 13 June 1944, refers). On the latter occasion, Walker had recommended Unsworth ‘for the award of a decoration’ but it was downgraded by the C.-in-C. Western Approaches:

‘This C.P.O. has been an extremely fine example to the ratings. His coolness and devotion to duty have been outstanding.’

Moreover, given his date of joining and departing the Starling - March 1943 and July 1944 - Unsworth must have been present at all 15 of Walker’s 2nd Support Group U-Boat ‘kills’, including the legendary tally of six ‘kills’ achieved in 10 days in early 1944. By way of example, the following extract is taken from The Fighting Captain, by Alan Burn, in which Unsworth receives due recognition for the destruction of the U-226 on 6 November 1943:

‘It was pitch black on Starling's bridge as she swept in to join Kite. Ahead it was just possible to see the black outline of the forward gun muzzles against the white of a breaking wave; closer, the bulkhead carried an array of bells, switches, alarm pushes and voicepipes; to the right and left, recording instruments and invisible batteries of telephones and buzzers. Behind the binnacle a quiet strong voice floated up the voicepipe from the wheelhouse, 'Coxswain on the wheel, Sir.'

Chief Petty Officer Unsworth on the wheel. It might be the middle of the night, but he would be wearing his cap and a spotless white polo-necked sweater - and his lifebelt.

In the eerie darkness, the bridge messengers flitted to and fro and an Able Seaman reported back the states of armament readiness as the guns and throwers were made ready for attack. Outside and around all this was such complete blackness that it would have been easy to turn 360 degrees without knowing it.

Over the T.B.S. Walker and Segrave spoke in short terse phrases to each other as the two ships, manoeuvring at close quarters, passed the contact from one to the other and Kite went in for another attack. No time to have Foxers trailing over the stern: not the sort of situation that any sane person would include in exercises at Tobermory.

The attack went without a hitch, but the only result was to provoke the U-Boat into loosing off S.B.Ts.

With Starling, Kite and Woodcock stalking their prey in firm Asdic contact, Walker decided that there was no point in risking further hazardous operations in the pitchy black and that the next attacks could well wait until daylight. He ordered the two ships to keep clear, and for four hours jogged along behind the U-Boat on one engine. At dawn he ordered Woodcock, under Commander Clive Gwinner to close so that he could pass instructions to him over the loud hailer. While Starling continued to track the U-Boat, scarcely moving through the water, Woodcock crept in at five knots with her Asdics switched off, to deliver a creeping attack with charges set deep, directed by Walker.

The centre of the pattern fired was reckoned to be within two degrees of bearing and a few yards of range, covering an area 400 yards long by 100 yards wide. As the charges started to explode, many hundreds of feet below the surface, there was a terrific roar and a column of water shot high up into the air. At 0719 the Asdic operators reported breaking-up noises. At 0733 there were two explosions of which the second was near the surface and audible to all on deck. At 0747 the remains of U-226 started to float to the surface. These included a torpedo which we hoisted on board - with some misgivings - to take back for the experts to examine.

Kite reported that this had been a very large U-Boat, either a milch cow or a 1200-ton supply boat which was shown by their plot to have a turning circle of 340 yards.
This was another successful creeping attack.

Walker signalled "Splice the Mainbrace," a most welcome break in the grey, cold monotony of this patrol. The Group reformed ahead of Tracker and resumed their sweep, and the hands set about preparing for Captain's rounds.’

On his subsequent appointment to Temporary Acting Bosun in July 1944 - undoubtedly on the recommendation of the celebrated Walker - Unsworth came ashore, and on being demobilised in June 1946, he served in H.M. Coast Guard and the Trinity House Light Vessels; sold with copied research.