Having put down my notes of interviews from Vernon and his naval experiences from clipper ships to sinking Bismark and being sunk by Japanese bombers, I must get back to my other journalistic notes. I'm in the last stages of editing a book of short stories and that made me wonder if I could turn the notes on Vernon, the 1740 silver mining scam and the Cape Corps in East Africa in 1915 into a kind of series. Not short stories exactly but maybe three books in one. Something to think about anyway.

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I thought I'd finished with Vernon's story when he brought out photographs of his brothers. One was in the army with the Dukes at Tobruk. (Prince Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh granted the CTVR the title "Duke of Edinburgh's Own", after it had formed a guard of honour for him during a visit to Cape Town. The nickname "the Dukes" appears to have come into use in the 1880s.) Another was with the RAF as an aircraft fitter and saw service in Somalia and Italy. Quite a contribution by one South African family to the war effort during WW2. People tend to regard South Africans as being tainted with racism but I never heard Vernon say anything that indicated anything other than concern for others. His comment about his medals - that he wouldn't wear awards he had been given for trying to kill young men from the Bismark that could have been his friends in different circumstances - was typical.

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Vernon's wife had been looking after us with coffee and cake and it was natural to ask how they met. Vernon looked slightly embarrassed and began - My brother had arranged for me to meet someone and I was on my way when I saw two toughs pushing about an old shipmate, who suffered badly from shell-shock. I lost my temper and got stuck in. Fortunately my brother came along and stepped in. 'What were you trying to do? I arrange for you to meet a nice girl and the first thing you do is get into a fight with two rough characters - with only one hand!!
Some days later Vernon was at a dance and met the 'nice girl' and married her.
Vernon and his old shipmates stuck together and in 2007 the last two still got together.

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HMS Oxfordshire dropped the survivors of HMS Dorsetshire in Durban and the wounded were taken to Addington Hospital. Just over the hill from the hospital was an airfield where pilots were being trained in Harvards. One day the learners thought it would be a good idea to"buzz" the hospital. I don't know where the others were, Vernon Brill told me. I was under the bed. Vernon hesitated but his wife Joyce urged him on and Vernon began a reluctant story about his paybook. 'Inside the paybook was my Liberty Book, the little book you had to have when you were on shore. If you went ashore without it the MPs would lock you up as a deserter, so it was always in a safe place. When we were bombed it was two decks below but when I was in Addington, the Sister came with a paybook in her hand and asked me if it was mine. The Liberty Book was still inside. Who brought it, or how it got to Addington, I have no idea,' Vernon told me.
I thought that would be the end of Vernon's story but there was more to come.

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HMS Oxfordshire picked up HMS Dorsetshire's wounded from the beached hospital ship and made for Durban. 'It took three weeks,' Vernon remembered. HMS Oxfordshire broke down in the warm sea around Mombasa doing Vernon's injured hand no good. By the time they got to Durban the hand wass smelling and gangrenous. First opinions were that it must be amputated but Dr Wassing intervened and and, although inflexible, Vernon still has his hand- no doubt with the help of the new miracle drug Penicillin.

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HMS Enterprise took the survivors of HMS Dorsetshire on board and made for the ship beached on one of the islands that was being used as a hospital ship. A Petty Officer took a look at Vernon's leg and said he could see the end of a bullet sticking out. The PO sucked his teeth and muttered,'That will have to come out before it suppurates.' 'Get on with it,' Vernon told him and the PO took out a pen knife, heated it like John Wayne, and dug out the bullet. Vernon grimaced at the thought. They could do nothing about his hand, however, and that had to wait for another pick up.

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I am tempted to add atmosphere and detail to my notes from Vernon but that is for a day when I write it up as a novel. For the present let me stick to what he said.
Vernon was in the water not far from the sinking Dorsetshire. He found a piece of timber an clung to it. His bum smarted but the salt water would cleanse it and he was more concerned about the noise of the Japanese planes . One came and machine gunned those in the water. Vernon couldn't see if anyone was hit but later learned it killed the doctor and the priest. The plane, or another, came back again but Vernon just clung to his driftwood. Some time later, someone in one of the lifeboats that had survived said, 'Look at Brilley's hand.' When Vernon looked there was a hole right through his left hand. They later found two bullets in his leg so he must have had a lucky escape.
There were bodies floating among the survivors but no sharks came. From time to time someone would ask about so-and-so. Sometimes someone had seen them, sometimes not.
One of the first to go was the chief killik of vernon's mess. Although firm friends, they had had a bad start. The killik had a bad habit of touching Vernon's plate as he ate. After a bad night looking through frost rimmed binoculars, the killik touched Vernon's plate and, before he had time to think, Vernon laid him out on the floor.
'What could I do?' Vernon asked me. 'It was a serious offence to hit a superior.'
Defaulter's parade.
The captain listened to the story, remembered the bitter cold watch and decided they should settle it on deck with boxing gloves.
'After a few knocks we apologised and became really good friends,' Vernon commented.
Day passed into cool night and now and then Vernon could hear people shout as he hung on to his bit of timber. In the morning things settled down and one or two adventurous spirits swam races between the boats. Vernon just hung on and by evening knew that, if they weren't rescued, he wouldn't see another dawn. Just as they grew desperate, HMS Enterprise appeared and they were hauled on board.  

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After all the excitement of meeting the King and the Princesses, the Dorsetshire had several other adventures chasing German raiders and U-Boat supply ships and was sent to the Indian Ocean to calm things down there. Having searched for a reported Japanese attempt to infiltrate the Indian Ocean Dorsetshire and her companion HMS Cornwall were despatched to Colombo to refuel.On Easter Sunday the two ships were about 300 miles from Colombo when, according to the tattered pages of an old Illustrated magazine, the crew knew 'stood to' at dawn but knew there was 'something up' when the bugle which announced the opening of the NAAFI didn't sound at 7am. In mid morning a Japanese scout plane appeared and shdowed the ships but stayed well out of range of their guns. About 2pm Vernon saw the planes come and start to dive and bomb the ship. There were so many and they came so fast the guns had no chance, Vernon commented. Vernon was at his gun position when there was an explosion. He came to on the deck below, looking up at a gaping hole where the gun had been. His legs had no feeling and the ship started to list. He saw the steps of a companionway ladder and managed to claw his way up to the main deck. The deck was sloping and he began to slide down.A marine with one arm badly wounded and his face damaged told him he'd better get off the upslope side as the 'abandon ship' siren had gone. When Vernon pointed out he couldn't move his legs, the marine dragged him up and over the side. Vernon slid down the side bumped against the bilge keel and scraped his bum on the barnacles before slipping into the water.
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After the Bismark sank, HMS Dorsetshire went in toe look for survivors. Vernon Brill told me they threw nets and ropes and anything the survivors could hang on to the side over the ship and hauled them up. One lad caught a hold of Vernon and wouldn't let go; he looked as if he they could have been friends at school, Vernon said. They offered them tea but they German sailors refused it, thinking it was poisoned, until one of their officer, whom Vernon said, spoke with an Oxford accent, said it would be all right. Then came a warning of U-boats and an order for the Dorsetshire to withdraw. Vernon looked up and saw tears streaming down the face of the Captain as he rang the telegraph to start the engines and leave. Those who had been almost saved and were close to the ship were sucked in but the propellers. Vernon was given medals but refused to wear them on Remembrance Day parades because they were given for killing young men who, in other circumstances, could have been his friends.

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Vernon Brill's action station was the forward port 4" gun but his cruising station was Captain's lookout on the port side and he got to know the skipper, Captain Martin, the navigating officer and Guns, the gunnery control officer well as personalities, which makes his comments about them more poignant. When the Bismark sneaked out and into the Atlantic, then, chased by ships of her own capability, turned for Brest to refuel, HMS Dorsetshire was escorting a convoy across the Bay of Biscay when she got the news. Despite the difference in fire power, Captain Martin, without permission, according to Ludovic Kennedy's book, Pursuit, took the courageous decision to put Dorsetshire between Bismark and Brest. Chased Bismark was disabled by a torpedo bamber, caught by the big ships, which opened fire at twelve and a half miles. HMS Dorsetshire arrived and opened fire with her 8" armament but the shells bounced off Bismark's steel sides and exploded  twenty yards away in the sea. By now Bismark's decks were a mess of tortured steel but the guns were still firing. Captain Martin decided to make a direct attack. When the Skipper's voice told them ' Hang on, we're going in,' Vernon knew it was going to get rough. Head on, the ship as small a target as possible and the Captain ordered the guns to fire for Bismark's upper works. When the superstructure was hit, Bismark lost central control of the guns and Dorsetshire stood off to make a torpedo attack. When the torpedoes hit, Bismark listed, righted, then turned turtle and slid under the waves, stern first. What happened next lived with Vernon all his life.

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As HMS Dorsetshire was being refitted, Vernon Brink and some of his shipmates were invited to watch a football match between Arsenal and Everton at Wembley. As far as Vernon could remember it was the last professional football match before the war stopped such things. Dixie Dean, the Arsenal legend was playing and after the National Anthem, the players changed from khaki into their strips, played the game and changed back into khaki. The trip was organised by South Africa house and they were taken to and from Wembley by bus. When I mentioned that was convenient, Vernon pointed out there was a blackout and it was easy to get lost in the streets of London. The picture is a view of the open bridge from the lookout barrel up the mast, obviously taken in warmer climes.www.sullatoberdalton.com/books/king-kaiser

As HMS Dorsetshire was undergoing her refit, the sailors were allowed leave. The South Africans were told they could stay in Devonport or go to London, where South Africa House would look after them. Vernon decided to go to London and in the city heat decided to get a drink. Little more than a teenager, he found a pub, saw what he assumed was bottles of the apple drink he had known since a boy and asked for a bottle. It tasted fine and he asked for another. The barmaid looked at him and asked if he was sure. when he said yes, she gave it to him but kept watching him. Vernon enjoyed the second bottle, still felt thirsty and asked for another. The barmaid asked the barman is it was all right. The barman spoke to Vernon, who told the barman, they drank that stuff like lemonade in South Africa. The barman looked doubtful but gave Vernon another bottle. Vernon told me - he nearly made it outside but the next he remembered was being in hospital after the scrumpy cider had been pumped from his stomach. When he was telling me the tale, he smiled ruefully and said it was lucky the barman had called an ambulance instead of the Military Police, the MPOs would have thrown him in jail. After the refit, the Bismark sneaked out to be chased by men like young Vernon from around the world, including South Africa.

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In WW2, when HMS Dorsetshire left Cape Town for Devonport, she was sent to help convince the French sailors in East Africa to either hand over their ships or scuttle them. Whether the sailors agreed with the Vichy government or not, sailors become attached to their ship and their shipmates and the idea of deliberately sinking her, or even handing her over without a fight is abhorrent. The French naturally resisted and sent out two submarines to teach the intruders a lesson but the captain was to crafty and Dorsetshire to quick and agile to be caught and survived. The French then sent a few aircraft out and it was in chasing those off that Vernon Brill's gun, P1, the first 4" on the port side, suffered a misfire and, instead of calling 'misfire and letting it cool, Vernon opened the breach and the shell fell out and burned his legs badly. That's how he came to be airlifted in an old Walrus float plane to hospital, as I mentioned earlier. It is when you start putting down notes like this that you realise you have a story on your hands.

I left Vernon Brill half way up the mast of HMS Dorsetshire waiting for the rating he was relieving climbing out of the barrel like crows nest. As he hung on there, one hand on a rung, the other grabbing the stay, he could see the ship bury her bows into a big Atlantic wave, the mast swung forward and he had to hold on tighter to prevent being cast off . Looking down he was sure the bows would keep on diving under and under but then, the bows lifted, showered white water along the decks and he was pressed against the crosstrees as the mask flicked back. When the waves were coming from the side, one moment there would be nothing below but a wave and he hung on tight, the wire strands of the stay biting into his hand, trying to hold on with his feet as the mast started to come upright and leave him hanging. When the mast was upright, he could relax, with the steel deck and bridge structure under him but, a few breaths later, he would be pressed against the rising mast with nothing but the sea below.
Once inside the barrel, he was connected by a voice tube with a mouth he spoke into to the bridge. Being there on your own was a bit frightening but - you get used to it, Vernon commented.
The picture, taken around the late 1990's, is Vernon with the last of his old shipmates. Vernon is on the left with his woundded hand behind his shipmates back.
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I've found the notes I made about the chap who became involved in the Bismark, so let me start at the beginning. The dorsetshire heavy cruiser was on her way from her station in China to a refit in Devonport, when she called in at Cape Town. She was short of 15 gunnery ratings and Vernon Brill transferred from the South African Navy to the Royal Navy as a rating. His first 'adventure' was climbing the mast to the lookout position in a kind of barrel half way up the mast. To get up there, he had to climb up the mast on metal rungs till he reached the crosstrees - a wooden boom held horizontal by wire stays. Once up he had to grab a stay and hang on while the chap he was relieving told him anything of interest, then climbed out of the barrel and allowed Vernon to climb in. It wasn't much better when you got in, Vernon told me.
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