Auction Catalogue

22 September 2006

Starting at 11:30 AM

.

Orders, Decorations and Medals

Grand Connaught Rooms  61 - 65 Great Queen St  London  WC2B 5DA

Download Images

Lot

№ 37

.

22 September 2006

Hammer Price:
£7,200

The Second World War anti-U-boat operations D.S.C. and Bar group of six awarded to Lieutenant J. S. Filleul, Royal Navy, who served as First Lieutenant to “Walker, R.N.”, the legendary Escort Group leader and winner of four D.S.Os: Filleul first joined Walker in H.M.S. Stork in early 1942, and subsequently became his “Jimmy the One” in H.M.S. Starling - as a consequence, he was directly involved in operations that led to the destruction of 18 U-boats, several of them due to his steady command of Starling’s depth-charge team, once while attired in a bath towel and duffle coat

Distinguished Service Cross
, G.VI.R., with Second Award Bar, the reverse of the Cross officially dated ‘1943’ and the reverse of the Bar ‘1944’; 1939-45 Star; Atlantic Star, clasp, France and Germany; Africa Star, clasp, North Africa 1942-43; War Medal 1939-45; U.N. Korea, mounted as worn, minor contact marks, very fine and better (6) £6000-8000

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, The Ron Penhall Collection.

View The Ron Penhall Collection

View
Collection

D.S.C. London Gazette 14 September 1943. The original recommendation states:

‘Lieutenant Filleul was the Depth-charge Control Officer of the ship when H.M.S.
Starling sank a U-boat on 24 June 1943. He fired two perfect 10-charge patterns, the second of which was on his own initiative and completely destroyed the submarine.’

Bar to D.S.C.
London Gazette 13 June 1944. The original recommendation states:

‘Lieutenant Filleul was Executive Officer and in charge of Depth-charge Parties. Whilst destroying four U-boats between 31 January and 19 February 1944, the ship fired 170 depth-charges. Lieutenant Filleul has trained and led his men with such care and skill that every depth-charge was fired exactly as and when ordered. The reloading drill was also extremely efficient and quick. This was a vital contribution to the destruction of four U-boats.’

John Seymour Filleul joined H.M.S. Stork in January 1942, immediately following Commander (afterwards Captain) F. J. Walker’s first memorable anti-U-boat operations, enacted in support of convoy HG. 76 in December 1941. As C.O. of the Escort Group, he proved that a convoy could be successfully defended, even when it was attacked by no less than 10 U-boats - indeed, in a matter of days, Walker’s superb leadership and skilful command resulted in the confirmed destruction of no less than three U-boats, the U-131, U-434 and U-574. The latter fell victim to the Stork, who rammed her target amidst much cheering from her crew, an action that won Walker his first D.S.O. - the first of four.

Filleul had spent nine years in Canada before electing to follow in his father’s footsteps and join the Royal Navy, and was uncomfortable with all the pomp and parades that had made up his life as a young Sub. Lieutenant aboard a cruiser before reporting to Plymouth to join the
Stork in January 1942. He was, therefore, mighty relieved when he met his new captain over a relaxing gin, his pre-conceived ideas of further pomp being instantly dismissed. It was in fact the start of an enduring and highly successful partnership, a partnershp that lasted until Walker’s untimely death in July 1944.

Nor was Filleul’s introduction to anti-U-boat operations long coming, for on his second outing in the
Stork in April 1942, during the passage of convoy OG. 82, he witnessed the destruction of the U-252 off S.W. Ireland - the Stork and her consort, Vetch, initially engaged their target with gunfire and then followed up with a joint depth-charge attack, ‘the disgusting mess of junk, matchwood and butcher’s exhibits’ that rose to the surface confirming the U-252’s demise. Walker was awarded a Bar to his D.S.O. and Filleul was also recommended for a distinction, but on this occasion nothing was forthcoming.

Filleul’s next encounter with the U-boats occurred during the passage of HG. 84 in June 1942, when
Stork and her consorts fought-off a concerted U-boat offensive but without any confirmed successes. Nonetheless, Filleul clearly conducted himself well, for on returning from leave he was ordered to join Walker’s next command, the recently commissioned Starling, and in the rank of Liuetenant. Operating out of Liverpool, as flotilla leader of the Second Support Group, Walker, his crew and the Starling would shortly inflict unprecedented losses on Donitz’s U-boats - his message to the flotilla was uncompromising:

‘Our job is to
kill, and all officers must fully develop the spirit of vicious offensive. No matter how many convoys we may shepherd through in safety, we shall have failed unless we can slaughter U-boats. All energies must be bent to this end.’

There were, however, moments of respite, even from such a hard and unrelenting captain of Walker’s status, for he cared deeply for the well-being of his men. Thus the occasion in May 1943, when
Starling’s enforced radio silence was broken by Walker signalling the Captain (D.), Liverpool that Filleul’s fiance, Miss Wendy Taylor, should expect her husband-to-be’s imminent return to port, and therefore to prepare herself for a hasty wedding and three days’ honeymoon: Walker was admonished by the C.-in-C, who received a copy of the signal, but the wedding and honeymoon went off without a hitch.

Less than a week later, Filleul was back in action against the U-boats, on this occasion participating in the memorable destruction of the
U-202 - Walker had stalked his quarry for 15 hours before she was forced to surface for air. Pulverised by Starling’s point-blank gunfire, she was quickly abandoned, her captain and 16 crew being plucked from the icy water, but not before one of them had obeyed Walker’s order to reveal the exact identity of their boat - “Tell them they cannot be picked up until they have given the information we want.” Filleul, who had been placed in charge of rescuing the U-boat’s survivors, therefore found himself ordering the first of them to reach the Starling’s decks to get back in the water, for they refused to divulge the requested information. A very cold 15 minutes ensued before one of them shouted “Kapitan Poser, U-boat 202.” Walker once again recommended Filleul for his actions, but once again no recognition was forthcoming.

Less than three weeks later, the Second Support Group was again in action, this time at such short notice that Filleul, who was now in charge of the
Starling’s depth-charge team and “traps”, raced to the stern of the ship wearing a duffle coat over his bath towel, thereby probably becoming the only naval officer to win a D.S.C. while so attired - having engaged the sighted U-boat with gunfire, Walker went in to ram her. The Fighting Captain, by Alan Burn, takes up the story:

Starling rose on a swell; her bows lifted clear of the water and came down fair and square at right-angles to U-119, hitting her with a horrid drawn-out tearing noise just abaft the conning tower. The ship slowed as if she had grounded and she bounced noisily on over her victim, her speed down to ten knots after the impact of the collision. The grey shape of the U-boat below the keel could be seen quite clearly, rolling slowly as it scraped along the keel towards the stern and towards our too vulnerable propellers.

John Filleul watched his moment. His last order had been to set the depth charges, not to fire them. He assumed that, in the turmoil, the order hadn’t reached him. As the U-boat came level with the quarterdeck, he fired the charges from the throwers. When he saw it rolling under the stern, he sent the rest of the pattern rumbling down the rails on top of it. Slowed by the collision,
Starling did not have time to get clear before the depth-charges exploded. Every light bulb in the ship was shattered ... ’

But smashed light bulbs were the least of Walker’s problems, for as a result of ramming the U-boat the
Starling suffered far more serious damage, and was taking on water - it was to this concern that Filleul now turned his attention, leading damage control parties in shoring up the bulkheads and decks. About the same time, a boat had been lowered to go and collect evidence of the U-119’s demise, an unpleasant task at the best of times - ‘a determined seagull succeeded in beating the outstretched grasping hand of one member of the whaler’s crew for a small bloody mess, apparently of human origin.’

Due, however, to another U-boat attack developing, Walker decided to transfer to the
Wild Goose to continue the hunt, while Filleul remained aboard the battered Starling for a slow trip home - as it transpired, the sinking U-boat had torn a wide gash in her hull, some 25 feet long. Filleul was awarded the D.S.C. and appointed First Lieutenant:

‘In his selection of a new First Lieutenant, Walker enjoyed almost unlimited choice. He had all the officers in the Group to choose from. He could go outside the ship or the Group for the pick of the experienced Lieutenants, any of whom would have jumped at the opportunity of taking this key job. A signal from him to the Commander-in-Chief would have had any officer of appropriate rank hurrying up the gangway. He chose to take on John Filleul, whom we have already heard of in
Stork as the gunnery officer and as the officer in charge of the depth-charge crews in Starling’s actions. John was a very junior officer; he had been made up to Lieutenant just before Starling was commissioned. His birthday was 30 October 1920. He was not yet twenty-three when chosen by Walker’ (The Fighting Captain, by Alan Burns refers).

In November 1943,
Starling was present at the actions that resulted in the destruction of the U-226 and the U-842, work that won Walker his third D.S.O., but a long-awaited spate of repairs and modifications had to be carried out to her in dry-dock on her return. In fact she did not become operational again until the New Year.

On 31 January 1944, in a position W.S.W. of Fastnet, and in company of the
Wild Goose, Walker led another successful chase and attack, Filleul and his depth-charge team again being to the fore:

‘The long series of twenty-six explosions started and continued at five second intervals as the heavy charges rumbled down the rails and curved out from the throwers on either quarter.

A few seconds after the fourteenth charge disappeared over the stern, there were two almost simultaneous explosions: the first was part of the normal pattern, set to explode seven hundred feet down was not very dramatic. The second was far more frightening, heavy, inexplicable and totally unexpected, throwing up a huge hill of water, ten yards from
Starling’s starboard quarter.

The great mass of water climbed higher than the ship’s masthead and seemed to hang for seconds over the quarterdeck. The ship jerked unnaturally as if she had come up all standing on a rock. A fully primed depth-charge was hurled over the side and another fell five feet onto the deck. Neither exploded. All electrical switches were thrown in the power room.

Tons of solid green water began to descend on top of the depth-charge crews. As the water cascaded over the side, they emerged soaked, shaken, some badly bruised but still pushing out the remainder of the pattern.

Starling shook herself. The quarterdeck emerged from the water. Depth-charges continued to leave the ship in the strict pattern of the creeping attack. There was no hitch or delay to the drill. At 1132 John Filleul was able to report that the pattern had been fired. He didn’t sound excited or upset, but at the time he didn’t know that the explosion had shattered the contents of the wardroom wine store ... This was a remarkable effort by the depth-charge crews carrying out their drill amidst feet of swirling water thrown on board by the explosion ... ’ (The Fighting Captain, by Alan Burns, refers).

The subsequent appearance of much debris - including human remains - confirmed the demise of the
U-592, the first of six U-boats claimed by the Starling and her consorts in this single patrol. The last of “The Six”, the U-264, was sunk by point-blank gunfire, Starling getting in five 4-inch hits and many more besides with her Oerlikons - unusually, too, all of the enemy crew were subsequently rescued. In between, meanwhile, Starling had been “in at the kill” of the U-238 and the U-734. A momentous reception awaited the Second Support Group on its return to Liverpool, and among the subsequent Honours and Awards was a Third Bar to Walker’s D.S.O and a Bar to Filleul’s D.S.C.

In March 1944,
Starling claimed the U-653 with a single ten-charge pattern, and the U-961, in a position N.N.E. off the Faroes, during the passage of convoy JW. 58, with two ten-charge patterns set at 150 and 300 feet - the resultant explosion on the latter occasion ‘shook Starling from truck to keel ... shortly afterwards, in the light of the ten-inch signal lamps, the familiar mass of wreckage started to float to the surface in a spreading patch of oil.’ So efficient, in fact, had been the defence of the convoy - and the actions of the Second Support Group - that all 49 merchantmen reached Murmansk safely, a sign indeed of the turning balance of power at sea, not least since German U-Boat Command had decreed that this convoy ‘must not be allowed to get through unscathed.’ For her own part, the Starling had completed her first year in commission, a year in which she had steamed over 47,000 miles - and a year in which her crew had consumed nearly 750 gallons of rum and averaged a daily intake of 35 cigarettes per man.

May witnessed Walker’s final U-boat victory, when he led a remarkable 18-hour pursuit and attack that resulted in the destruction of the
U-473. He afterwards described her final moments - after several punishing depth-charge patterns had been delivered over a protracted period - ‘as the most exhilarating twenty minutes that the Group has had yet in a far from dull career’:

‘ ... The target was illuminated immediately and was shot to ribbons by the three ships in commendably quick time, despite drastic high-speed zigzagging by the Boche. Early on it was difficult to see the target in the smoke and spray of battle, but soon the evil glow of fire round the conning tower provided a perfect aiming mark ... At least one torpedo passed down
Wren’s port side but the prudent Herrenvolk soon took to the water, leaving their boat circling to port at high speed. In a most abandoned manner it tried to ram me and then sank nearby at 0033. Two small explosions were heard at 0035 (probably scuttling charges); and at 0042 a very heavy explosion, doubtless marked the very fitting end of U-473. Thirty prisoners were fished out.’

Walker was awarded his fourth D.S.O., and the Second Support Group now turned its attention to the Normandy landings, for
Starling and her consorts were charged with establishing a vital protective screen around the invasion’s fleet, a task that was carried out so successfully that barely a dozen of Donitz’s latest Schnorkel-fitted U-boats got within striking range during the first month of the landings.

But any sense of achievement was quickly shattered on 9 July 1944, when news reached
Starling that her gallant captain had died suddenly on leave, his demise in Admiralty records being attributed to ‘exhaustion’. But while everyone reeled with shock, it was quickly apparent that a strong replacement would have to be found to take command of Starling, and the ship’s company unanimously agreed that only one officer could ever replace Walker, an officer who had consistently displayed extraordinary professionalism, leadership and courage - John Filleul. To everyone’s disappointment, however, Their Lordships ordained that he was too young to assume command, and thus followed a spate of new captains - the first of whom departed after just a month, having contracted lumbago in Walker’s leaky old cabin.

Notwithstanding these frequent changes of command, the
Starling - and Filleul - went on to share in the destruction of several more U-boats, the U-333 at the end of July, the U-736 and the U-385 in the first two weeks of August and the U-482 early in the new year, among them. Thus ended a remarkable wartime career.

Sold with a quantity of original documentation, comprising the recipient’s birth certificate, dated 30 October 1920; his certificate of baptism, St. Jude’s Church, South Kensington, dated 20 November 1922; his Oxford and Cambridge Examination certificate, signed by J. F. Roxburgh, Head Master of Stowe School, July 1937; Admiralty letter of notification for the award of the Bar to his D.S.C., dated 28 June 1944, and a related newspaper cutting; several other wartime newspaper cuttings and photographs; the recipient’s “Crossing the Line” certificate, H.M.S.
Concord, dated 6 April 1957, together with a photograph album relating to his time aboard the same ship, and a subsequent posting to Canada as an officer in the Naval Intelligence Department (approximately 40 images); his British Visitor’s Passport, with portrait photograph and signature, dated 12 October 1965; a letter to Ron Penhall from Alan Burn (the author of The Fighting Captain), dated 17 June 1992, written on behalf of the recipient’s widow; together with two sets of tunic ribands on metal frames and Filleul’s R.N. Officer’s cap badge.

Provenance: Sotheby’s, 20 May 1992 (Lot 341), when, as stated in the catalogue, ‘The Property of Mrs. W. Filleul’.