Auction: 1005 - Orders, Decorations, Campaign Medals & Militaria
Lot: 21
A Good Second War ´D-Day´ D.S.M. Group of Four to Leading Wireman, Later Petty Officer Wireman, W. Kavanagh, Royal Navy, Who Rescued The Entire Crew of Seven of a Halifax Bomber, Shot Down By Enemy Tank Fire and Ditched in the Sea off the Coast of Normandy, 6.6.1944; Kavanagh Swam Out to the Airmen, Two of Whom Were Wounded, and Despite Suffering From Exhaustion and Severe Cold, Brought All of the Crew Safely Back to His Vessel a) Distinguished Service Medal, G.VI.R. (L. Wireman W. Kavanagh. C/MX.77836) b) 1939-1945 Star c) Atlantic Star, with France and Germany Bar d) War Medal, generally good very fine, with the following related items and documents: - The Recipient´s silver Badge of the Royal Naval Patrol Service - Two pieces of cloth insignia - Letter from Admiralty informing recipient of award of the D.S.M., dated 30.11.1944 - Campaign Medals enclosure slip and Card Box of issue addressed to the recipient - Several photographic images of recipient during various stages of his military career; with a comprehensive file of research which includes typed transcripts of interviews carried out with the recipient (4) Estimate £ 1,800-2,200 D.S.M. London Gazette 28.11.1944 Leading Wireman William Kavanagh, C/MX. 77836 (Salford) ´For gallantry, skill, determination and undaunted devotion to duty during the landing of Allied Forces on the coast of Normandy.´ C/MX 77836 Petty Officer Wireman William Kavanagh, D.S.M., born ´5 Pearson St. Greengate, Salford, 1917; educated at St. James School and Grecian St. Central School, Salford; prior to the outbreak of the Second World War he played for Hightown Amateur Football Club, culminating in a trial for Manchester United in 1937; enlisted as a Wireman in the Royal Navy, 22.7.1941; he was immediately engaged in Minesweeping operations, and his service included in H.M. ships BYMS 2058, 10.6.1943-14.1.1944 and BYMS 2035, 15.1.1944-11.8.1944; serving in the latter Kavanagh engaged with a U-Boat whilst sweeping off Great Yarmouth, Spring 1944, "Whilst sweeping with the flotilla, we spotted a distance away an object... shaped like a small boat... the officers went onto the bridge and viewed the object through a telescope and ordered our signalman to sound ´action stations´.... Orders were given to sail to the area of the last sighting for depth charging. Two seamen took a depth charge from the rack of four using the carrier... to the discharger. I secured the depth charge in its launcher, set the depth (the deepest, which I think was 280ft., the officer having left the setting to me) and armed it by fitting the primer and pistol with detonator. In fitting the cartridge in the depth charge thrower, I forgot to remove a cork disc from the end of the cartridge which I was later to regret. I received orders to fire the depth charge manually, by lanyard.... On pulling the lanyard, it snapped.... I fell over backwards and getting to my feet, I quickly knotted the lanyard, released the safety catch and pulled. The depth charge was despatched, the stalk falling away, however, at the instant of firing, a sheet of flame, smoke and burnt cork (caused by my having left the cork disc in the end of the cartridge) caught me on the front of my body, hands and face causing singeing of the hair on those parts. The ship then turned to the position for launching the second depth charge, when the first depth charge exploded, bringing up with it a considerable amount of mud and wreckage. The second depth charge was launched and exploded. Whilst the seamen were carrying the third depth charge, the wooden carrier broke and it rolled about the deck. The two seamen, thinking it was going to explode (it was not armed) disappeared, however I managed to trap the depth charge near the discharger and by considerable effort (I have since wondered how) I lifted it, a weight of about 400lbs, first across my knees, and finally into the launcher. I then armed it and fired... All went well with the fourth depth charge... Later we learned we had been credited with the sinking of the U-Boat but we were not allowed to paint a sub kill symbol on the funnel (we were told due to security). I was told later that a 22 ship convoy was due to sail through the area the next day, which included a MAC, a merchant ship aircraft carrier and it was assumed that the U-Boat was lying in wait for this particular convoy.´ (typed transcript of interview with recipient refers) D-DAY On 6.6.1944 Kavanagh was still serving in BYMS 2035, as part of the 165th Minesweeping Flotilla; the latter and indeed BYMS 2035 were under the command of Lieutenant Commander J.H. Butler and on D-Day itself were engaged ´sweeping off Sword Beach, which was the easternmost point of the British landings.... the Battleships Warspite and Ramillies carried out the shelling of the shore batteries and inland targets. Covering fire was also being given by the Monitor Roberts and number of cruisers and destroyers. We were very close to one of the destroyers [Sevenner, a Norwegian vessel] which was hit amidships by a torpedo which had passed the stern of our BYMS whilst we were sweeping in line. The torpedo broke the back of the destroyer which sank almost immediately leaving its bow and stern sticking out of the water.´ At the end of the first day of the combined operation Kavanagh´s ´ship had arrived at our anchoring position about two miles off the coast of Normandy, the rest of the flotilla having already dropped anchor. As flotilla leader it was practice for the leader to ensure his ships were in their correct stations before we dropped anchor. I was manning the anchor winch, our engine was still running, when I saw a four-engined aircraft, later identified as a Halifax, in difficulties, with only the outer port engine still running, flying low in an arc from the coast out to sea. It was evidently going to crash and I could see two or three of the crew at an open door. I, along with other members of the crew on deck at the time shouted a warning. The coxswain immediately began giving orders to get the ship under way.... By the time we got under way the aircraft had crashed into the sea about a mile away. Our ship stopped leeside to give protection from the wind and laid off about 300 yards to reduce the risk of fire due to the amount of petrol from the aircraft, which was partly submerged, with only the canopy showing above the water. At the time I was wearing plimsolls and overalls, and a lanyard with clasp knife around my waist. I put on a lifeline belt with lifeline around my waist, and one of my shipmates (Seaman Fletcher) got hold of the other end, I then went over the side of the ship into the sea to swim over to the crashed aircraft. Due to the risk of the lifeline around my waist fouling an obstruction as well as hampering my swimming, I cut the lifeline and shouted to Seaman Fletcher to pull the rest of the lifeline in, whilst I was half way between my ship and the aircraft. The crew of seven had apparently launched their inflatable dinghy, which would not inflate (later it was found to have been holed by shrapnel). Two of the aircraft crew were injured and had been put into the middle of the dinghy; the remaining five were in the sea holding onto the outer edge. When I got to them I recollect one saying "Thank Christ we have a Navy" which made my efforts to reach them more worthwhile. Other ships had by then sailed to our assistance and positioned themselves to give me and the ditched airmen some protection from the wind and waves. One BYM was laid off downwind in case we were separated and swept away. I shouted to the ditched aircrew to hold on and swim or tread water since they were inactive, presumably due to shock and I was concerned that the combination of exposure and shock would soon take its toll. Taking hold of the dinghy, I started to swim, pulling the dinghy, together with those of the aircrew who could assist, towards the ship. When we got near to the ships scrambling net, I got hold of the most badly injured airman from the middle of the dinghy and taking him under his arms, I reached for the scrambling net with my hands and struggled to get my feet onto the net to enable two of the ships crew (one of our Sub Lieutenants and Seaman Fletcher) to get him aboard. I repeated the performance with the second injured airman. A combination of the swell, the consequent movement of the ship and waiting for the right time to grab the net was very exhausting. The rest of the aircrew were told to let go of the dinghy and get to the net, but three of them were not too keen. I recall the skipper, shouting and finally swearing at them to let go. I then helped the remaining three airmen who were still clinging to the dinghy in turn to reach the net. I recollect during the whole of the period of the rescue one of the airmen (their skipper) giving orders which helped his crew to keep together and survive. Finally they were all safely aboard and due to the effort that I exerted and the cold (I had been in the sea for about 45 minutes) I had reached my limit of endurance and I just managed to get my hands and feet on to the net to hold on. I remember someone shouting "Where´s Wires?" (my nickname being a wireman) since I just did not have the strength to get on board. After having been helped aboard, and numb with the cold, I was hosed down with warm water, which turned out to be the worst thing they could of done, since as a result, I experienced excruciating pain as my circulation slowly returned to normal. Later a whisky was sent from the ward room which finally brought some life back into me." The aircraft concerned was Halifax V K LL 335 of 298 Squadron, and as part of Operation Mallard, it had been tasked with towing gliders; German tanks fired upon the aircraft over the drop zone, forcing its´ pilot (Flying Officer R.I. Carpenter) to ditch off the coast of France; the crew later wrote to Kavanagh to express their thanks and congratulations on the award of his D.S.M.; Kavanagh´s commanding officer singled him out for commendation for his actions, later resulting in the award of the D.S.M. Kavanagh continued to be engaged in sweeping throughout the operation, during which his ship ´picked up 3 American survivors from a landing craft, which according to them had been sunk by an ´aerial torpedo´..... We picked up a Polish Spitfire pilot who had a badly injured jaw. He had been shot down and baled out.... On another occasion, we picked up whilst sweeping an uninjured German ME 109 pilot who was in his dinghy and claimed to have been shot down by a spitfire.´ Throughout the rest of 1944 Kavanagh continued with his minesweeping duties, incidents of note included coming face to face with a German Human Torpedo whilst sweeping off the Seine Estuary, August 1944. Petty Officer Wireman Kavanagh was discharged 15.2.1946.
Sold for
£4,300