HMS Dasher

HMS Dasher, Uncle Bill and Aunty Lucy.

George William Wain (known as ‘Bill’), my uncle, was born late October/early November 1917 in, Burslem, Stoke on Trent, following his father’s return from WW1 in France and Belgium. I have not yet found a birth certificate for Bill, which in some respects is unusual, as I have the birth certificates of his 2 siblings – my Aunt and my Dad. There is also very little other information about him – either photographically or paperwork wise, although he does appear on the 1921 census.

He was the second child of George (a plumber) and Lizzie Wain (nee Ball) (previously a pottery worker but now on ‘home duties’), they lived in Fenton, Stoke on Trent.

As the second world war loomed, Bill joined the Royal Navy Fleet Air Arm ending up as a Petty Officer Leading Air Mechanic.

WAIN, George W, Leading Air Mechanic (O), FAA/SFX 144, MPK

I am still to find his war record, but it is likely that he would have joined up at the start of WW2 in 1939, as a 22 year old. I have no idea why he chose the navy, but like many of the navy crowd – it was probably the uniform and the traditions.

He was air crew on the ship HMS Furious, an old battleship from WW1 converted to an Aircraft Carrier near the end of that war. HMS Furious took on the role of convoy escort in WW2, often to Norway but also to Malta. How long my Uncle Bill was on the Furious is not clear, but at some point he joined the crew of the Archer class aircraft carrier HMS Dasher.

Dasher was built in Pennsylvania, USA in 1942, and commissioned in July that year. There were, what you might call teething problems, aircraft fuel tank leaks and fires, the causes of which were repaired whilst still in the shipyard.

Dasher was deployed firstly as Atlantic convoy escort, then Mediterranean support for the Allied Landings of North Africa (Operation TORCH) in November 1942. The support for operation Torch was for 2 weeks, after which she escorted a Convoy back to the Clyde in Scotland, then on to Liverpool for a couple of months (December 1942 to January 1943) for modifications. This was an extension to the landing deck to cater for larger and faster planes.

Following the modifications, in early February 1943 Dasher sailed to Scapa Flow in Orkney and had a couple of weeks’ worth of convoy work in the home fleet, but due to atrocious weather in mid-February 1943 she sustained significant structural damage and headed to Dundee for repair, which took about 4 weeks.

Upon leaving Dundee on 23rd March 1943 she headed back around the top of Scotland to the Clyde for aircraft trials.

At 4pm, at the end of the second day of trials, whilst anchored halfway between Ardrossan, on the mainland, and Brodick, on the Isle of Arran, whilst many of the crew were preparing for shore leave there was a massive internal explosion and Dasher sank within 3 minutes.

There was a loss of over 300 of the 550 crew. You would hope that most were lost in the explosion, but some were lost to burns from burning fuel floating on the sea, and some to hypothermia, some to drowning.

The actual cause of the explosion is not definitively known, but following reports of leaking fuel lines, previous fires, and the possibility of an aircraft impact during landing, it was perhaps an ‘accident waiting to happen’.

Bill was on the Dasher when it exploded. Hopefully in the aircraft storage area below deck as he was an aircraft technician. ‘Hopefully’ because it is likely that the aircraft fuel storage area was the source of the explosion due to the report of the explosion being so enormous, it ‘had to be’ fuel. And ‘hopefully’ because his death would have been instantaneous.

Attached is the British Ensign with the roundel of the Fleet Air Arm, the size is 6 feet by 3 feet. It was in my dad’s ‘things’ that I found when going through the family archives. It would have been Bill’s from either the Furious or the Dasher. They must have replaced the flags on the ships from time to time, and I suppose the crew had the opportunity to keep the old ones, my dad also has an ensign off his MTB.

The sinking of the Dasher was covered up for ‘morale’ reasons of the wider public, there were no newspaper reports despite it being witnessed by a number of people on shore and despite the rescue operation involving a number of ships that were in the vicinity.

So the family did not get any details of his death, other than being ‘lost at sea’, and so were left wondering, or worse, guessing.

People’s emotions or fears do not get switched off just because it is a war, grief does not get cancelled. And in the midst of a cover up, imagination would only magnify the grief.

This would have been true for his family at home in Stoke on Trent. Which is possibly why any photo’s or records of Bill went ‘missing’, I could imagine that a way of coping may have been to push it out of your mind – or try to. It would be massively painful to deal with the loss of your son or brother at the age of 25, at any time, never mind a war. And a cover up.

But it would also have been true for Bill’s wife Lucy Victoria.

Bill had got married whilst he was away during the war years. He met Lucy, fell in love, and got married. I have very little information about Lucy Victoria, where she was from, what her maiden name was, nor do I have a marriage date or place. In fact, the only reason I know they were married was that she was mentioned as his wife in a notification of Bill’s death.

Lucy may have been pregnant or have had a small baby or toddler, when, after Bill’s death, she went to Stoke on Trent to visit her in-laws for the first time. But whatever her situation, she arrived at the Wain family home, was not allowed entry, and had the door closed in her face.

Trauma, upon trauma, upon trauma. For all concerned.

Perhaps the near ‘elimination’ of any family record of Bill was the root of the seemingly brutal response of the family. None of it makes sense to me now, in these different times. But we cannot judge the effects of the hard realities of their loss, we do not know their bigger picture. It was what it was. We can only reflect on it with love, and the families did what they could, with what they knew, at the time.

My Dad tried to contact Lucy sometime during the 1990’s, and I think he almost achieved it, but eventually came to a block that he could not get past. I remember him saying that he had gone as far as he could. Lucy either did not want to respond, or the final hurdle of searching or bureaucracy was too complex. Either way it did not produce a connection and my dad let it go. I think that he felt very much that he tried to build a bridge, but that it was not to be.

I would have loved to have met these two souls, but, in my small part, I hope that in telling their story, Bill and Lucy Wain can find a lasting peace, certainly in the photos attached you can see a beauty, warmth, and happiness that I would like to think is eternal.