I am indebted to Julie Nestic, the grand daughter of Les Mortimer, for having supplied the photographs and a typescript summary of the memoir Les Mortimer wrote in 1998 from Autralia
This full version on the Australia Department of Defence web site has been lightly edited but may contain errors of transcription

Eleven minutes past eleven 1942, first watch eight until twelve p.m. Close up on the starboard watch in the transmitting station aboard the HMS Hecla. After two hours as lookout on the bridge there was only one sighting, an American submarine depot ship off the Azores at approximately 8.30 p.m. We were zig zagging with another depot ship, HMS Vindictive, and two escort destroyers: HMS Maine (a brand new destroyer) and HMS Venomous (a WWI V&W class destroyer, notorious for its inability as a sea going ship). Conditions were appalling with hardlying money being paid in peace time until a conservative M.P. Lady Astor stopped the payment after travelling from the Thames to Portsmouth one sunny calm day pre-war. The night was intermittent cloud. Starlit with running swell force 3N Mod. SVVE, swell. Six ratings in the darkness of the T/S lay awaiting the middle watch,  12 p.m. until 4 a.m. There came an almighty explosion. Hecla shuddered and listed, a 21” port sub torpedo hit amidships (in the Navel reports 2 torpedoes, At 11 p.m. hit amidships. As a witness only one torpedo hit the Hecla a few minutes after 11 p.m. putting the generators out of action, as the power went off the ship. The ship was in total darkness. Action stations. (2 ZLB pom-pom anti-aircraft, 6 x 4.5 guns, immobile for lack of power) We were relieved of our station by regular trained RN Gunners. Being 3 watches only one watch manned guns and damage control etc. We were ordered off the bridge of the ship and left without leadership. After what seemed an eternity. The Hecla came on an even keel with no power. She was immobile and drifting. My lifebelt would not hold oxygen, so I went down below to mess deck 32 to try to find some authority that could insure another life belt. There was no organisation below and I was told to go and look around. Parts of the two watches were hanging around not knowing what to do. There was no leadership. 839 crew approximately 2/3 waiting for what? I roamed the lower deck finding another air life belt. In looking for my life belt I came across 2 ratings of my mess 32. They were two regulars that could not read, write or swim. They had been in the navy since the age of twelve. They were cowed (never seen again). In the stokers mess there again were nothing but the other watches hanging around. 

At about 12.15 p.m. there was another explosion and I returned to the upper deck. A second torpedo 21” hit under the starboard bow. There was still no power with the ship dimly lit. I walked around checking on mess deck mates. Several H.O’s (Hostility Only ratings) took the place of the RN ratings missing from the pom-poms,  operating the pom poms manually. Everything was at a stand-still. I worked my way back to the bow of the ship and befriended a regular Navy Able Seeaman (AB) throwing a rope off the bow. He stated “The next torpedo and over I go.” He didn’t have long to wait. A third torpedo hit and most of the crew abandoned ship as ithe command was peassd by word of mouth. The Able Seaman said he would go over first and my mate was to follow. I lowered myself into the water to find my God-send waiting. Then we waited for my friend to enter the water. He panicked screaming he could not swim and would not release the rope. The AB told me to leave him after swimming back twice. I had to get away from the ship. There was a gapping hole in the side of the Hecla’s bow. It took the AB and myself an eternity to make headway. The ship was at an acute angle filling with water and we were being dragged back into the ship. Then a forth torpedo hit and exploded and we were washed clear of the Hecla. Following the AB we swam towards HMS Marne, which was foolishly moving bow first to the Hecla in the starlight conditions. There were ratings climbing the nets on the stern when a 21” torpedo blew the stern off. We were approximately 30 foot away. There was a blinding explosion and we were both stunned and drifted with the swell.

After returning to my senses the AB said “We should leave the  Marne" and we swam away into the rolling swell. We thought the Marne had had it. Then there came a fifth explosion in the direction of the Hecla. The water was alive with men hold ing onto debris and smashed life boats. We swam into the swell again, coming from a northern direction. We came across what looked like a sub’. Stopping we listened to voices calling for the name of the ship in an American accent. I suggested going along side but the Able Seaman said we were to get away as it would be dangerous. We turned and swam in the opposite direction. We were confronted with what turned out the be HMS Venomous depth charging the area (the sub was attacking – surfaced). Venomous was depth charging amongst the survivors. Several floats crowded with survivors came by but it was impossible to get a hold (oil was everywhere). We carried on into the night. How long we swam could not be recorded but the Venomous came into view, stopping to pick up a float full of men. She misjudged, hitting the float and spilling the men to either sides of the ship. We swam to the nets of the Venomous on the stern and hung on being extremely exhausted. There came a voice from the bridge shouting “Let go AFT I have a ping” Veromous took off dragging us in the net. How long I was in the net I don’t know. After screaming out I was untangled, dragged on board and thrown on the deck. Afterwards thrown into the hammock rack in the seamen’s mess deck to recuperate. When I came to I found myself lying alongside the seaman friend that had refused to let go of the rope on the Hecla. He was raving mad. No one could do anything for him. We were told to leave him he would recuperate. At first light I was helping to clean up the mess on the quarter-deck near the nets when they pulled a body out of the nets. It was the able seaman I had spent the night with. The Venomous had something to answer for.

After picking up more men Venomous became short of fuel and went along side of HMS Marne with her stern blown off and milked for fuel. She then left the Marne and proceeded to Casablanca hoping Casablanca had been taken from the Vichy French during ‘Operation Torch” North Africa. The reason for going to Casablanca was that Venomous hadn’t enough fuel to get to Gibraltar. Venomous at 12 knots stanchions cracked like B-gun firing. How men could take such conditions is hard to understand. Water washed over the bows and tore aft and into the seaman’s mess deck. Everything was wringing wet. Her full speed 17 knots would have been a nightmare. We approached Casablanca cautiously and a signal with authorities told us the American’s had landed and were mopping up. We approached slowly to find three USS ships, the flag ship of the American Med fleet USS Augusta and aircraft carrier USS Guadalcanal and a destroyer with a gapping hole in the bows. Tying up alongside to refuel the Venomous was invited to dine and everyone kitted up with clothing. Lunch, dinner and breakfast. Then off to Gibraltar where we were invited into the harbour and put aboard the battleship King George V during the whole of the action I cannot remember seeing one officer. Not anyone above a petty officer.
   
The following day we were transferred to the Stratheden, a liner, and put below with one officer off the Hecla. Below deck conditions were degrading with no sleeping facilities. We sailed for England in a convoy. Two destroyers and one aircraft carrier. First night out she exploded with loss of all the ships company (approximately 1,200 dead). In the action “Operation Torch” North Africa, approximately 17 Royal Navy ships (Daily Express) were put out of action. Survivors landed at Grenock Scotland and rekitted with new gear, uniforms (basic), fed and transported back to Portsmouth RN barracks. We were screened, paid money according to rank and given 28 days leave with no medical check for any lower deck personnel. That night I blacked out finding myself in the wrong section of the barracks. I slept on a form bench. I couldn’t recall how I got there. I was walking around dazed. I found myself on a train to Birmingham but not knowing how I got on the train. When I arrived home my mother had been notified that I was missing believed killed in action.

The U-boat that sank the Hecla and damaged Marne was U-515 (Captain Lieutenant Henke) despite being engaged by B-gun on HMS Venomous and depth charged U-515 escaped unscratched. Anti-submarine forces finally caught up with her on April 9th 1943 to the north of Madeira Island where she was sunk by four USN destroyers and three aircraft from USS Guadalcanal. Fourty-four of her ship company out of sixty, including her CO, were taken prisoner. I returned to HMS Victory barracks after four weeks leave with my Royal Oak friend Pam. Pam was a survivor of the sinking of the Royal Oak at Scapa Flow in the Orkney Islands where nearly 900 men and boys were killed in October 1939. The “Oak” was out of commission owing to sea trials. Her gun’s shook her to pieces. On entering the main gate Pam called back to me. He had had enough and decided to jump the wall. His nerves had gone and he was going to friends in the north end of Portsmouth.  Shaking hands I walked into the barracks never to see him again. I was put in a mess deck, allotted a hammock and slept and ate in a building 200 years old. After one week I was transferred to Whale Island gunnery school for a course. An antiaircraft gunner 3rd class. One week in barracks and no medical. The barracks were full of war neurotics. No one wanted to know.

I arrived at Whale Island with a kit bag, a hammock and a case and on reporting to a police officer was allotted a hut, mess and class and ordered to double at all times between 8 a.m. – 5 p.m. No rating was exempt, if he carried a kitbag he doubled. Things were bleak. Winter on Whale Island was going to be bad. In the class of 35 we were allotted a chief petty officer as a teacher who should have been in hospital. He had been wounded while serving on the battleship HMS Prince of Wales, when she engaged the German battleship Bismarck. He had been trapped in a section of the ship sealed off to stop the ship sinking. In the same action with Bismarck the battleship HMS Hood with a crew of 1,400 was hit with one salvo and three men swam away from her. One Midshipman (officer)  two  ratings from the lower deck. The midshipman was mentioned in dispatches.The lower deckmen were not named or mentioned. The midshipman was killed in a sports car going on leave (survivors) at Whale Island.

I continued my gunnery course; an incident with the chief petty officer. The class of 35 doubling (running from clas to parade ground) was accused of “shufferling” (half a run) and I being nearest to the chief petty officer was kicked in the backside. I jumped out of ranks and kicked him back in the backside. He threateded to report me to the Commanding Officer. Another rating witnessed what happened. I had a witness against him and he dropped the charge. The following day the witness who spoke up for me was transferred to Combined Operation for three months on minor landing craft 25 ft in length. Then to major 110 ft landing craft with Mountbatten's death squad [Mountbatten's reputation was damaged by the the disastrous raid on Dieppe in August 1942]. I did my first three months at Qeenscliff, Dartmouth for the Royal Navy’s Officer College. I did thirteen landings in the American sector and one in Aremanches (British sector).

On being demobbed I was questioned about my physical condition. I reported that I had lost the top joint of the little finger on my right hand and was told I could receive £14 but would have to stop in the Navy for a further three months. I refused and was demobbed. I was ashamed of my condition and did not report that I was “bomb happy” and was looked after since by my wife, not claiming until 1992.

By mid afternoon HMS Venomous was almost out of fuel and ignoring orders to head for Gibraltar she managed to make it to Casablanca soon after its capture by American forces. After two nights in Casablanca Venomous left on the 14 November for Gibraltar and four of the survivors who had died after rescue were sewn into canvas hammocks, weighted with shells at their feet and buried at sea from the stern.

Cyril Hely photographed the burial and wrote on the reverse: "Thomas Luxton, George Taylor, Charles Odey and Alfred Dutton were buried at sea at latitude 34 degree 30 minutes North and longitude 7 degrees 30 minutes west." Lt Cdr "Harry" Alexander RN, the Navigating Officcer on HMS Hecla, read the brief service.

After arrival at Gibraltar another four survivors who died from their wounds were taken out to sea on a barge with volunteers from Venomous to bury them. The bodies of Jabez Skelhorne, Charles Stocker and Albert Thick were washed ashore on the Moroccan coast and now lie in the Santa Catalina cemetery in the Spanish enclave of Ceuta. The grandsons of Albert Thick and Jabez Skelhorne spent years uncovering the story of how they died and Simon Skelhorne arranged for their graves to be restored by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.

Les Mortimer  helpfully but confusingly inserted his own additions to his official Service Certificate:


After survivor's leave Les Mortimer was sent on a course at HMS Excellent,  the Gunnery School on Whale Island at Portmouth, and then joined HMS Quebec, a Combined Operations training base for the LCT (Landing Craft Tanks) on Loch Fyne in western Scotland in preparation for the landings in Normandy. The LCT and the Landing Ship Tanks (LST) which brought them across the Atlantic from the east coast of America where they were built were the key to the success of the D Day landings but they were brutes to control and had no accommodation aboard for their crew.

HMS Copra (an acronym for Combined Operations pay, ratings and accounts) was a shore base staffed by Wrens at Largs on the Clyde which processed the pay and allowances of Royal Navy personnel in Combined Operations. Les  Mortimer added LCT 703, the name of the LCT in which he served, alongside HMS Copra on his Service Certificate but despite being a shore base the name of HMS Copra is engraved on many of war graves in Normandy.

This photograph of the USN Landing Craft heading for Omaha Beach on 6 June 1944 with the USS Augusta in the background was scanned from a French postcard belonging to Les Mortimer but is also on the front cover of The U.S. Navy at Normandy: Fleet Organization and Operations in the D-Day by Greg H. Williams ( McFarland, July 2020).


There were two LCT 703.  LCT 703 was an American LCT with a USN crew which was sunk on D Day but Les Mortimer served in HM LCT-703, a British Landing Craft Tank in 57 LCT Flotilla (known as the 57 'Heinz'), part of Q LCT Squadron (Senior Officer Lt Cdr Arthur Duncan Stather Dunn) based at Plymouth. QLCT Squadron operated with B Force, the follow-up force for the American beaches in the west including Omaha, the most fiercely  defended of the five beaches.  He joined HMLCT 703 in September 1943 and "did thirteen landings in the American sector and one in Arromanches (British sector)".  Click on this link to see the stowage plan for LCT-1097, an addendum to the orders for Force G (IWM Documents.9372). This would be similar to that for LCT 703 and included three cruiser tanks.

Julie Nestic identified her maternal grandfather, Les Mortimer, in the photographs of the crew of HM LCT-703 below. If you recognise a family member who served in HM LCT-703 during the Normandy landings please e-mail Bill Forster so that he can add his name to the caption


I am hoping to receive more  details of this period in Les Mortimer's life from his family but in the meantime click on the link to see the Admiralty  Green List (ADM 210) of  LCT in  Q LCT Squadron (revised weekly) and read the account of Austin Prosser who joined the Navy as an Ordinary Seaman in 1942 and by 1944 was First Lieutenant in HM Landing Craft Tank 1171 part of LCT Flotilla 57  which included Les Mortimer's LCT. His irreverent attitude frequently got him into trouble with authority but makes for an amusing read.


Prosser's LCT broke in two and sank while returning from Omaha Beach in October.



Emigration to Australia

After the war Les Mortimer returned to Britain and worked at Austin Motors' Longbridge plant at Oxford before marrying and emigrating to Australia:


In 1998 when Les wrote the account of his rescue from HMS Hecla he was living in an outlying  district of Melbourne near where his children and grand children lived. Leslie Mortimer was 92 when he died in 2016.

A  second daughter, Carol Tregonning (nee Mortimer), was born in Australia and is alive today:


Sadly, Carol has no contact with his family in England and I am hoping that they will read his story here and get in touch with me by e-mail

The Last Man Standing?

There were 858 officers and men aboard Hecla when she was torpedoed and 282 names on the list issued by the Admiralty of those who died. I have traced the families of less than a hundred and non of them are alive today but the publicity the death of Reg Bishop on 4 June 2022 received in national newspapers (The Sun, Express and Mirror on 17th June and the Daily Mail online 17th June) may lead to me being contacted by the family of an elderly survivor before this year's 80th anniversary of the loss of HMS Hecla on 11 November 2022, Armistice Day.

Les Mortimer did not remember the name of the AB he swam with that night  but he was old for a rating, perhaps in his forties, and called 'Charley'. Charley Stocker was the only Able Seamen (AB) named Charley on the short list of men who died aboard HMS Venomous after being rescued  - but there was a Charles W Odey. 

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