These are a few of the stories that my Grandfather, Peter Mason told me of a few events that happened to him during his time aboard the HMS Penelope. The specific details are a little fussy as I was only about 10 or 12 when I heard them and that was 20+ years ago.
Shrapnel Soup. During an engagement with the enemy (possibly the Italian Navy), my grandfather was located high up in the sighting tower giving bearings and ranges for the main guns. Along with the man with him, he carried on with his duties as clangs and bangs, rattled away around them. As the battle went on the tower he was situated in, took hits from either shrapnel or small calibre rounds that sliced through to small room. The lighting was smashed in the fusillade of metal that filled the room, plunging him and his crew mate into pitch darkness. He felt a sudden impact to his head and was flung to the floor. Warm fluid pouring down his face and neck. Thinking that he had met his final minutes, he said a few words to himself and waited the end.
Head still aching, the minutes crept by and suddenly light was thrown into the room as the hatch door was flung open by another crew mate that had been sent up to look for survivors or casualties. With fresh light on him, he was asked why he was lying on the floor looking like a mess, by the searcher. To his relief and finally amusement, the fluid that was slowly soaking through his uniform was green and actually smelled of vegetables.
Looking around, the room wash splattered with the remains of the contents of the flask of pea soup, that he had brought up for his shift and left on a shelf above him. The impact was presumably the burst flask that had taken a hit and the fluid he thought was his last was the gooey remains of his soup leaking down on him!
Almost Aboard. This remembered story is, I think, during a very short stay in Malta.
In a rush HMS Penelope had tied up at the harbour and was rapidly taking on additional supplies and ammunition. My grandfather was assigned the task, along with many others of the crew, to man haul supplies on board ship via a gang plank from ship to shore. Whilst on one trip back to ship with cargo in arms, the harbour was attacked by dive bombers. As he was going up the gang plank a nearby explosion, whether in the waters of the harbour or nearby on land, managed to dislodge the plank. Himself, and I think, a few others plunged into the watery gap between ship and dock side. A dangerous place to be at any time with a large ship liable to rock about in normal circumstances let alone with an attack happening all around it. Finally once the attack had finished, it was only after repeated shouts from him and others in the water with him, that they managed to get the attention of fellow crew mates up above. They had thought the men that had disappeared of the the gang plank "gonners" and had assumed them killed. Finding them still alive and stuck between ship and dock, a ships crane was quickly used to fish them out and back up onto dry land.
There is also a colour pencil picture my Grandfather drew during this time, that I still have of his recollection of an engagement at dusk or night with the Italian Navy, when they and their fellow ships near enough decimated the enemy ships. He recalls that all across one horizon all he could see was the blazing remains and explosions of damaged, hit and sinking enemy vessels.
