Churchill sa en gang:
Never, never, never believe any war will be smooth and easy, or that anyone who embarks on the strange voyage can measure the tides and hurricanes he will encounter. The statesman who yields to war fever must realize that once the signal is given, he is no longer the master of policy but the slave of unforeseeable and uncontrollable events.
Det er en lov som gjelder hver gang man bruker militærmakt i et forsøk på å utrette noe godt, uansett om det er i Afghanistan, Irak eller for den saks skyld – Norge.
Og når Cameron og co nå har bestemt seg for å bruke militærmakt i Libya, kan vi vente at historien vil gjenta seg nok en gang. Sivile vil bli drept av vestlige bombefly, og påstand om vestlig arroganse, nyimperialisme og skjødesløshet kommer til å komme fra den uhellige treenigheten av Iran, muslimske fundamentalister og vestlige venstreradikale. Det er kanskje derfor viktig å huske på at tap skjer selv om militærmakten har de beste intensjoner, og at selv de sivile som lider tap kan komme til å respektere de som redder dem fra en fremmed voldsmakt – uavhengig om det er islamister eller nazister.
I den forbindelse kom jeg over denne rørende historien i Coxswain in the Northern Convoys av S.A. Kerslake
Dette utspiller seg på en engelsk bevæpnet tråler som tjener som patruljebåt for slagskipet HMS Resolution som er i Nord-Norge under kampene om Narvik.
The morning following our return to the ship, our skipper received orders to proceed to the village of Underulet, to see if any of the Germans had been missed, so off we steamed keeping our eyes open for any enemy aircraft on the way. However we arrived in the bay, without our seeing one at all. As the village came into view, we saw a small fishing boat made fast alongside the jetty. There had been none there on the previous day, so we made our way slowly towards it. All of our guns were manned, and every man on board was on the alert. The occupants of this fishing boat had seen us arriving in the bay, for they immediately cast off their ropes from the jetty, and made all the speed that they could to the far side of the bay on our starboard side. It was obviously a move to avoid contact with us. In spite of signals, and warnings shouted over the loud hailer, plus the fact that we had quite a bit of armament showing, they took no notice so Lieutenant Commander Scarlett ordered a shot to be fired across his bows as a stronger warning to stop, in true naval fashion; that seemed to do the trick for when the four-inch shell landed and splashed in the water ahead of them, the boat slowed down and turned towards us.
When it got closer, it was ordered to come right alongside the Gem, and eventually made fast with her port side up against our starboard side, with two ropes out, one from forward and one from aft. There were four men on the deck, and wheelhouse, all dressed in the garb of Norwegian fishermen. Our CO asked who they were and why hadn’t they stopped when we first signalled them to do so. Not one of them answered, and they looked surly and very suspicious, so the officer who had made his escape from our landing party some two or three days previously, took the two men nearest to him on the deck of the Gem, saying, ‘Come on follow me.’ They were a seaman from Stornaway, and the new replacement gunner who had only come on board the day before and they climbed over onto the deck of the fishing boat. All three were armed with revolvers, and spread out to make a search of the vessel. As they did so the man in the wheelhouse shouted something out; at once the boat started going full ahead, the ropes holding both ships together became taut and the men fore and aft cut the ropes with knives. All this happened in the blink of an eye, and was so sudden and unexpected.
In the space of a couple of minutes she was a good distance away from us, and we could see a fearful struggle going on on her deck. Our officer was grappling with one of the men, when one of the others came up behind him and hit him with an axe; he fell to the deck with the axe still lodged in his back. The gunner was being stabbed repeatedly with knives, but both he and the other seaman had the presence of mind to jump over the side and into the water. Up to that time we had dared not to open fire in case we hit one of our own men, but now that they were off the boat, and as far as we knew, our officer lay dead where he had fallen, everyone opened up with whatever they had their hands on, rifles, machine guns, revolvers. Within minutes she was stopped dead in the water with no sign of life to be seen anywhere on the deck.
First we stopped to pick up our two men out of the water, where the seaman was supporting the gunner. Myself and another seaman reached over and pulled him upwards so that others could get a better hold of his arms and his clothing to heave him inboard. As we got him over the ship’s rail we could see the blood pumping out of the rents in his clothing; blood and salt water ran out of his seaboots and onto the deck like miniature rivers. It was tragic that as we laid him on the deck he gave us a great big grin, then he died. I have seen this happen in my mind’s eye many times since then, but I am sorry to say that I never even got to know his name, his membership of the crew had been so short. Our other seaman was unscathed.
We now went alongside the fishing boat, and several of our men then jumped onboard her and made her fast once again. Others had run to our officer who still lay where he had fallen. The axe was still buried in his back, he was still alive but unconscious and was lifted up very gently and taken to the wardroom on the Gem. Here he was made as comfortable as possible. No one had the knowledge to treat such a wound so time was of an essence to get him to a doctor.
In the meantime some of our crew had looked at the crew of the boat. All four were dead, two had been shot at close range by revolver shots, the other two were riddled with machine gun bullets. The wheel house was a shambles, the engines were shattered, she was taking water in rather quickly from the bullet holes in her hull, and how she hadn’t caught fire no one knew. The seaman peering down the forecastle shouted that he could hear someone down there; he shouted down the hatch for whoever it was down there to come up on deck, once, twice, and a third time, and as no one appeared he fired couple of shots down into the deck below the hatch. This brought a response straight away, but imagine our surprise when up the forecastle ladder and onto the deck, came an old man of about seventy years of age, followed by a young woman with a small baby in her arms, then came an old lady. None of them was hurt at all, but they were all in a state of shock, and when they saw what had happened on deck and the four bodies laid there, the two women burst into tears. The sight the bodies and the deck literally running with blood as it was must have stayed with them for the rest of their lives, as it has with me. They must have been terribly frightened for themselves at that minute.
We ourselves were stunned and just couldn’t believe our eyes. Two men who had gone down the forecastle to have a look round came back up and reported that there was no one else below, but that there were holes all over the place and water was coming in. In their own words it was like the inside of a colander down there.
The old man, the two women and the baby, were taken onboard the Gem, the ropes were then cast off, and a few four inch shells were fired into her hull. As she settled deeper into the water, we in the Gem set off once more to seek out the Resolution to get medical aid for our wounded officer, and to land the bodies from the foredeck.
In the warmth of the Gem’s after mess deck, as she steamed along, Some of us were still wondering at the miraculous survival of these people. They were now being given hot drinks and a good meal, the sympathy of the British sailor now coming to the fore as it always seems to do in cases like this. It was really heart-warming to see a big six-foot stoker who hailed from Grimsby, rough and ready, and just in his vest and trousers, off watch, and handling the baby as if he were the mother of the child, feeding it with diluted Nestles milk in warm water with a spoon, and making a damn good job of it. As the time passed and the remaining three people relaxed a bit, we learnt from them that the old couple were man and wife and also the grandparents of the baby. The four who died on the boat were friends and relations, including their son, the young woman’s husband and the baby’s father. Apparently the day before they had seen what had happened at their village of Underulet; the boat had been out on a fishing trip and when it arrived back, they had decided that it would be best if they left the village for a time and went to stay with friends further north. They had just got ready to leave when they saw this ship, (the Northern Gem), come into the bay, and thought it was a German one that had come back to take revenge for what had happened to their troops. This was understandable to those of us who had been fishermen, as the Gem was German-built, and she looked like many of the German trawlers which passed through the fjords in peace-time making their way to the White Sea fishing grounds.
The big White Ensign which we were flying had meant nothing to them as they had not seen one before, and even when they were alongside us and hearing our skipper questioning the men on deck, they still thought that we were German. That was why the ropes had been cut away and the engine put on to full ahead to get away from us. Instead their four men were all dead and now lay with our dead gunner under the whale-back, and our officer was in the ward-room with severe if not fatal wounds. When eventually we arrived at the Resolution, and these unfortunates had to go onboard her, they didn’t go empty-handed, for they took with them a substantial amount of money in Norwegian kroners, given very willingly by every member of the Gem’s crew to help to make up for the loss of their relatives and friends.