Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

An outstanding and poignant Second World War Dunkirk Evacuation D.S.M. and St Nazaire Raid ‘V.C. Action’ M.I.D. group of four awarded to Able Seaman A. R. C. ‘Lofty’ Stephens, Royal Navy, who was decorated for gallantry in fighting off Stuka dive-bombers on M.T.B. 102 during the Dunkirk Evacuation and posthumously mentioned in despatches for his great gallantry as loader of the forward Pom-Pom alongside Bill Savage, V.C., on M.G.B. 314, the Headquarters Ship of the Famous St. Nazaire Raid

Distinguished Service Medal, G.VI.R. (JX. 131369 A. R. C. Stephens, A.B., R.N.); 1939-45 Star; Atlantic Star; War Medal, with M.I.D. oak leaf, extremely fine (4) £14000-18000

D.S.M. London Gazette 16 August 1940: ‘For good services in the withdrawal of the Allied Armies from the beaches of Dunkirk.’

M.I.D. (Posthumous) London Gazette 21 May 1942: ‘For great skill and dauntless devotion to duty as Second Coxswain of a Motor Gun Boat. He was mortally wounded while helping at the pom-pom.’ One of only 3 such awards for the St Nazaire Raid.

Albert Richard Carver ‘Lofty’ Stephens was born in 1912, the second child and only son of Sub-Postmaster and smallholder Albert Stephens and his wife Sarah Eliza Stephens, of Himbleton, Worcestershire. His father died on Armistice Day, 1918, when Dick, as his family called him, was just six years old. His mother continued to run the local Post Office, while raising her family with the help of relatives. Dick was clever enough to obtain a place at Royal Worcester Grammar School, but left school at age 16.

In 1928, Stephens entered the Royal Navy as a Boy 2nd Class in the training ship Ganges. He served for three years in the modern battleship H.M.S. Nelson, flagship of the Home Fleet. He was aboard her during the Invergordon Mutiny, when junior seamen went on strike to protest against cuts in their pay. Stephens subsequently served in the destroyer Dainty on the China Station, and the cruiser Norfolk in the West Indies.

Dunkirk - “Come on, yer bastards”

By the time of the evacuation of Dunkirk in May 1940 (Operation Dynamo), Stephens was the machine-gunner in Motor Torpedo Boat 102, commanded by Lieutenant Christopher Dreyer, R.N., one of the great Coastal Forces’ leaders, who ended the War with a D.S.O. and two D.S.Cs. 102’s crew was small, just two officers and eight men, but her top speed of 48 knots made her the fastest wartime British naval vessel. Stephens’s action station was in a tiny turret that housed twin .303 machine guns to engage aircraft and surface targets.

Christopher Dreyer remembered Stephens as ‘a dearly loved character’: “Every time we left Dover, Stephens clambered into his turret and sat there, behind his .303 machine guns, until we got back; nothing would budge him. On one occasion he was looking up at the Stukas, his guns aimed and ready, waiting for them to come into range, the inevitable cigarette drooping from his mouth. I noticed his mouth moving and leant back to hear what he was saying. Over and over again, he was droning “Come on, yer bastards,” just to himself, longing to have a crack at them.”

According to a contemporary newspaper cutting, M.T.B. 102 made 12 or 13 trips from England to Dunkirk. She was frequently attacked by enemy aircraft. The Senior Naval Commander of the evacuation fleet, Rear-Admiral Wake-Walker, used the destroyer Keith as his flagship until it was dive-bombed and sunk on June 1st. Wake-Walker transferred to M.T.B. 102, using her as his flagship for the last two nights of the operation and directing the incoming and outgoing vessels at Dunkirk from her bridge. As she carried no Rear-Admiral’s flag, one was improvised from an Admiralty dishcloth daubed with paint. M.T.B. 102 was the third from last vessel to leave Dunkirk.

“Rear-Admiral Wake-Walker, hurrying to Dunkirk itself in the M.T.B. which had picked him up, was dive-bombed, but not hit. All up and down the long, narrow channel of the roadstead there was havoc and the thunder of bombs. All up and down the roadstead were long and lamentable pools of oil which marked the new ship graves; and, with them, floating on the tide, was the pitiful wreckage of smashed boats and empty rafts, of battered furnishings and splintered planks. Within little more than an hour we had lost three destroyers, a Fleet minesweeper and a gunboat, and four destroyers had been damaged ...” (Dunkirk, by A. D. Divine, refers).

Stephens was awarded the D.S.M for his skill and gallantry in fighting off the Stukas. Dreyer wrote to him: “My warmest congratulations on your very well deserved decoration. The way you cared for your guns and your complete confidence in them, and the way you stuck to it in that uncomfortable little turret all those times, were a great help to me and gave me confidence that when any Jerry came too close he would get all he deserved - so that I was perfectly happy from that point of view on those trips. I hope the Jerries have not hit your pub. The best of luck to you.”

M.T.B. 102 has been preserved, and in 2012 she led the procession of vessels participating in the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Pageant on the Thames. She is cared for by The M.T.B. 102 Trust. Her hastily created Rear-Admiral’s pennant also survives.

St. Nazaire - Posthumous “Mention”

On 26 February 1942, Commander R. E. D. Ryder, R.N., was summoned to a meeting in London chaired by the dynamic new Director of Combined Operations, Lord Louis Mountbatten. Ryder listened as Mountbatten unveiled an audacious plan to destroy an unspecified enemy port, utilising a destroyer packed with explosives and a landing by Commando troops of the Special Service Brigade. Mountbatten went on to announce that Commander R. E. D. Ryder, R.N., would command the operation's naval forces. Having coolly confirmed his acceptance, Ryder was introduced to his army opposite number, Lieutenant-Colonel A. C. Newman.

Newman bombarded him with questions regarding the naval side of the operation. Still ignorant of the target's location, an exasperated Ryder demanded to know the name of the port they were supposed to hit. “Haven't they told you?”, asked the astonished Newman, “it's St. Nazaire.” Thus Operation Chariot was born. The strategic value of St. Nazaire was paramount to the Kriegsmarine, as it contained the only dry dock on the Nazi-occupied Atlantic seaboard capable of berthing the battleship Tirpitz. This vast facility, known as the 'Normandie' Dock after the French transatlantic liner, measured 1148 feet in length and 164 feet across, and formed a passageway between Europe's largest wet dock, the Bassin de Penhoet, and the Loire estuary. It was sealed by sliding lock gates, or 'caissons', strong enough to withstand the tremendous outside water pressure and accidental collision by ships.

After the London meeting, Ryder and Newman had just one month to organise the raid down to the last detail. The chosen destroyer, H.M.S. Campbeltown, was sent to Devonport for a four and half ton high explosive charge to be positioned and wired up just behind the forward gun support pillar. This area was then enclosed in a specially constructed steel tank and encased in concrete, to prevent the Germans from accessing, making safe and dismantling the charges after the Campbeltown had rammed the caisson.

Meanwhile, a suitable armada of Naval craft, chiefly M.Ls to carry the Commandos, was assembled. Ryder chose M.G.B. 314 as his Headquarters Ship because she was equipped with a radar set and echo sounder, necessary aids to lead the assault force over the Loire estuary mudflats and into battle. A Fairmile 'C' class boat of mahogany hard-chine construction, M.G.B. 314 was commanded by Lieutenant D. M. C. Curtis, R.N.V.R. Powered by three 850 h.p. supercharged engines, producing speeds of up to 26 knots, she was heavily armed, with a Rolls semi-automatic 2-pounder aft, two twin heavy machine guns amidships and a 2-pounder Vickers pom-pom forward, at which Able Seaman W. A. ‘Bill’ Savage was to win his V.C. and Stephens his posthumous mention in despatches.

Stephens joined M.G.B. 314 as a replacement gunner to take over the forward pom-pom from Savage, just a few days before the raid. James G. Dorrian’s Storming St. Nazaire tells the story: ‘As he [Bill Savage] was unable to carry out his duties, Curtis brought on board, as a replacement for Bill, the extremely competent 'regular' gunnery rating, Able Seaman ‘Lofty’ Stephens. Although he had been relieved by Stephens, Bill remained on board and, when he was sufficiently recovered, returned to his post on the pom-pom, in his turn displacing Stephens. The new man should, by rights, have left at this point; however with Chariot coming up Curtis was loathe to part with such a valuable rating and so Stephens remained with the crew. Ironically, and each man having had legitimate excuses to be elsewhere, it was these two who were destined to die within feet of one another, right at the fag end of the action and with the gunboat almost within sight of the open sea and home.’

On 18 March, M.G.B. 314 joined the attacking force at Falmouth - Campbeltown, M.T.B. 74 and sixteen M.Ls which carried Commando squads divided into small demolition, protection and assault parties, each detailed to specific assault tasks. Two destroyers, H.M.S. Atherstone and H.M.S. Tynedale, were assigned to escort the expedition on its outward journey. The strength of the raiding force was 345 Naval officers and ratings, and 257 Commandos. Nearly 170 would be killed.

At 1400 hours on Thursday 26 March 1942, the raiding force set sail from Falmouth in anti-submarine formation under a protective umbrella of R.A.F. Spitfires. To conserve fuel, M.G.B. 314 was towed by H.M.S. Atherstone. At 2000 hours on the next day, 75 miles off St. Nazaire, M.T.B. 74 and M.G.B. 314 discarded their tows. The Gun Boat drew alongside Atherstone to take Ryder, Green (the navigator), Newman and his staff aboard. The escorting destroyers broke off and the convoy assumed attack formation with M.G.B. 314 leading Campbeltown and two columns of M.Ls. 

Towards midnight, as the ships cruised on between the closing banks of the Loire estuary, Bomber Command aircraft began a diversionary air raid. At 0122 hours, Force Chariot's luck began to run out. Two shore searchlights swept and settled on Campbeltown, whose profile had been modified to resemble a German destroyer. Other lights were switched on and soon the whole force was illuminated in a blaze of light. A German lamp winked out an identification demand. Standing on the bridge of M.G.B. 314, Leading Seaman Pike signalled back in German, temporarily baffling the defenders. Still Force Chariot was pushing on to its target. The Germans, unable to identify the ships in mid-river, opened fire.

Aboard Campbeltown Lieutenant Commander Beattie rang the ship's bell to signal 'open fire'. The Kriegsmarine ensign was struck and the White Ensign run up in its place. Klaxons sounded throughout the fleet and the night became alive with the sight and sound of battle. The biggest problem for Savage, assisted by his loader Stephens, was identifying the enemy positions against the blinding glare of searchlights. Steaming in at 18 knots and with the port column only 100 yards from the bank, Ryder began to wonder how long his vessels could withstand the rifle and machine-gun fire from the left bank, not to mention the 75 mm., 150 mm., 170 mm. and 6 in. howitzers of the coastal batteries. Incredibly every ship sailed through it all, but Campbeltown suffered badly. Two of her Oerlikon Crews were hit, the Quartermaster and Coxswain were killed in the wheelhouse, and her 12-pounder high angle gun was blown into the sea along with the crew of a 3-inch mortar. Bullets and shells, and red, white and green tracer were hitting the ships from all angles.

Blinded by searchlights, Beattie followed behind in the wake of M.G.B. 314, as they passed the East Jetty of the Avant porte. Here 314 passed an anchored Sperrbrecher (a heavily armed German gun platform which was known to British Coastal Forces as a ‘mini-pocket battleship’), which was blazing away with all its armament. Savage and his pom-pom team sprayed Sperrbrecher 137, traversing from end to end without a single stoppage and silencing every weapon on board, including its formidable 88 mm. gun. This was a remarkable feat of gunnery, bearing in mind they were firing from a pitching and moving platform. Closing fast on the Normandie Dock's massive southern caisson, Curtis swung 314 away to starboard, allowing Campbeltown to accelerate during her final run in to ram the lock gates. 314 turned in a complete circle, giving those on board a perfect view of Campbeltown as she cut through the anti-torpedo boom. Beattie ordered a slight change in direction to ensure hitting his target square on, leaving the nearby opening to the Old Entrance clear for the M.Ls. At 0134 hours Campbeltown smashed into the caisson, tearing back forty feet of her bows.

Her main mission accomplished, 314 now dropped off Newman and his staff at the Old Entrance, while Ryder also came ashore to ascertain how effectively Campbeltown had been placed. While he was away, disaster befell most of the M.Ls. One after another fell victim to the horrendous point-blank fire - four M.Ls were destroyed within minutes. Meanwhile, 314’s decks were crowded with the crew of Campeltown. By the time Ryder returned, it was time to head for open water - but not before witnessing the destruction of two more M.Ls at the Old Mole, where 314 also came under heavy fire. Just at this moment, fully exposed in the bows of 314, without armour or any protection whatsoever, the pom-pom team - Savage, the No. 2, Able Seaman Frank Smith, and Stephens, the loader, in a magnificent display of accuracy and cool courage which inspired all who witnessed it, fought a savage duel with the powerful Gun 63 in its thick concrete emplacement, just 250 yards away on the Old Mole The team worked as if at a Gunnery trial, all the while regardless of the webs of tracer rounds passing close around them. German Gun 63 was silenced, several pom-pom rounds going through the bunker’s embrasure.

Her decks now a shambles, 314 came under coastal artillery fire while passing Les Morees Tower at 24 knots. Then disaster struck the gallant pom-pom team, when 314 met a heavily armed enemy trawler. Quickly working up to her full speed, the gunboat raced away, on this occasion sorely missing the firepower of her after pom-pom and powered machine guns. Up on the fo'c'sle, gunners Savage, Smith and Stephens had only seconds in which to train and fire their gun before the German ship passed behind the gunboat's stubby superstructure. ‘It raked us from stem to stern,' recalls Frank Smith, 'with small-arms fire, bullets and shrapnel flying around, pinging off guard rails and metal fittings, and dull thudding sounds as the bullets hit the splinter mats which were secured to the sides of the bridge. The action was sudden and unexpected; we were no more than a hundred yards away when she opened up on us. We only had time to fire a few rounds off before she was abaft the bridge, and the pom-pom couldn't bear.’ (Storming St. Nazaire refers) 

‘And then, almost as suddenly as it had begun, the brief but violent encounter was over. A small fire was visible on the enemy's deck, while the gunboat, sporting a new collection of holes, appeared to have got away with a clumsy encounter which could have spelled the end for all of them. The engines were all right, there was no vital damage to the structure, nor was there any evidence of fatal casualties. It was only when Frank Smith attempted to train the pom-pom and found it would not budge that it was discovered that Bill Savage lay slumped across the elevating wheel. Thinking at first that Bill had merely fainted, Frank was greatly distressed to learn that his fellow gunner, with whom every danger of the night had been shared in equal lots, was in fact dead. Hit by a small shell or by chunks of shrapnel, Bill had died instantly from a massive, open chest wound, during the very last throes of an action whose enviable list of honours would include a Victoria Cross in his name, in recognition of the courage displayed by so many of the ratings. Ordinary Seaman Bill Whittle fetched a blanket and covered Bill's body with it. Later Peter Ellingham and Ordinary Telegraphist Reynolds would be detailed to prepare the remains for an eventual transfer to a destroyer. With Bill dead and the loading number, Able Seaman Stephens, dying nearby, Frank was left alone on the gun until such time as Curtis could detail a relief ... ’

Able Seaman Dick ‘Lofty’’ Stephens was given first aid by 314’s medical officer, Sub-Lieutenant Christopher Worsley, R.N.V.R.: ‘I found a sea-boot containing a torn-off leg, which I threw into the river, lying between the pom-pom and the forward ready-use locker.  I looked around for the limb's former owner and found him lying on the deck near the site of my first action station. The leg had been ripped off obliquely downward from the inner side of the groin, leaving so short a stump that it was not possible to apply a tourniquet. To try and stop the bleeding I bound a field dressing on it as high and as tightly as I was able, then covered the rest of the wound with more field dressings. Except for injecting a syrette of morphine, there was nothing more I could do for him, so I continued on my round.’

Soon after, the destroyers Atherstone and Brocklesby were sighted. It was decided to scuttle 314. Her survivors and casualties were transferred to Brocklesby. Stephens died in the ship’s sick bay later that night. His body was bought home to Himbleton and interred in the cemetery of St. Mary Magdelene Church.

Savage was buried at Falmouth. The award of his posthumous V.C. was announced in the London Gazette of 21 May 1942, for his own bravery and on behalf of ‘many others unnamed, in Motor Launches, Motor Gun Boats and Torpedo Boats, who gallantly carried out their duty in entirely exposed positions against enemy fire at very close range.’ Men like Stephens, who, in accordance with the practice at the time of restricting the grant of certain gallantry medals to casualties, was awarded a posthumous mention in despatches.

Sold with a quantity of original documentation and photographs, including the recipient’s M.I.D. certificate in the name of ‘Able Seaman Albert Richard Carver Stephens, D.S.M., H.M. M.G.B. 314’, dated 21 May 1942, and related Admiralty forwarding letter to his mother, which states ‘this Seaman served as Second Coxswain. During the action he showed outstanding zeal and devotion to duty, doing invaluable work wherever it was most wanted. He was mortally wounded while helping at the pom-pom’; his Buckingham Palace memorial scroll, in the name of ‘Able Seaman A. R. C. Stephens, D.S.M., Royal Navy’; the above quoted letter from Christopher Dreyer, congratulating Stephens on the award of his D.S.M., undated, sent from H.M.S. Beehive, Felixstowe; a Christmas card with photograph of M.T.B. 102 at speed, inscribed by the recipient, ‘To Aunty from Dick’; and a fine selection of childhood and Naval career photographs (approximately 25 images).