A Second War Malta convoys D.S.M. and Daily Herald Industrial Order of Merit pair awarded...

A Second War Malta convoys D.S.M. and Daily Herald Industrial Order of Merit pair awarded to Carpenter N. W. Owen, Merchant Navy, decorated for his gallant part in ‘Operation Pedestal’, which he completed aboard the tanker S.S. Ohio after the loss of his own ship, the Deucalion; he went on to win the “Worker’s V.C.” for his courage as a deep-sea diver for British Railways during a diving incident off Holyhead in 1952, in which he had to cut off one of his own fingers to save his life

Distinguished Service Medal, G.VI.R. (N. W. Owen, Cptr.) in its case of issue; The Daily Herald Order of Industrial Heroism, the reverse officially inscribed, ‘Norman W. Owen, 22nd September 1952’, in its fitted case of issue, extremely fine and rare (2) £3,000-£4,000
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Importation Duty
This lot is subject to importation duty of 5% on the hammer price unless exported outside the UK
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Provenance: Ron Penhall Collection, Dix Noonan Webb, September 2006.

D.S.M. London Gazette 26 January 1943: ‘For distinguished services during the passage to Malta of an important convoy.’

The original recommendation states:

‘The Carpenter, N. W. Owen, continued to sound the ship and make reports, carrying out his many duties in the face of all attacks. This man never ceased doing what was required of him and was perfectly cool and efficient throughout.’

Daily Herald Order of Industrial Merit (Case No. 235):

‘In July 1951, Norman Owen, D.S.M., a British Railways’ deep-sea diver, was working on the removal of old pile stumps of a former pier at Holyhead, when a rope sling 27 feet beneath the surface was found to have twisted. Diver Owen went down to straighten it.

While he was working on the wire, a block and pulley dropped a few inches and trapped two fingers on his right hand. The block moved and tore off one of the fingers. He was unable to control the air valve in his diving helmet with his left hand and knew that he could not stay under water much longer. Diver Owen was held 27 feet below the surface with a terrible decision to make.

He took his knife from its sheath - and cut off the trapped finger. Then he gave the signal to haul up. But the tale of Owen’s courage does not end there. When he was brought to the surface, he maintained his attitude of calm and after his diving suit had been removed, telling his mates to keep cool, he walked unaided 200 yards to the hospital.’

Norman Warden Owen joined the Merchant Navy as a Carpenter in 1938 and was homeward bound in the Blue Funnel Line’s M.V. Deucalion on the outbreak of hostilities. Having survived bomb damage during a raid on Liverpool docks in 1940, the Deucalion was ordered to the Malta run, in which capacity she participated in “Operation Substance” before her epic part in “Pedestal” - nor was the former trip uneventful for, having withstood aircraft and U-boat attacks, she was damaged by a mine.

The M.V. Deucalion and “Operation Pedestal”

The importance of the “Pedestal” operation needs no introduction here, but it is worth recalling the bare facts: of the 14 merchantmen that set out, nine were sunk, including Deucalion, and three damaged, while the Senior Service lost an aircraft carrier, two cruisers and one destroyer, as well as having another half a dozen ships damaged. For the likes of Norman Owen, aboard Deucalion, the moment of truth arrived on Wednesday 12 August 1942, when his ship was sunk after two separate enemy aircraft attacks; the first, in which she was hit by bombs, much reduced her speed, and the second, delivered by an enemy torpedo bomber, finished her off. Richard Woodman describes both attacks in his definitive history, Malta Convoy:

‘Leading the port column as a convoy guide, Deucalion was soon in trouble. At 13.00 a stick of bombs fell about her. One hit the starboard after well deck, abreast the mainmast, pierced the ship and did not explode; the second struck the port gunwhale of No. 1 Lifeboat slung outboard on the bridge deck, scraped the side and exploded as it hit the water; and the third burst against the ship’s starboard bow at the after end of No. 1 hatch. Despite Deucalion’s massive scantlings, ‘it seemed as if the ship almost went on her beam ends with the explosion and she seemed to start to settle rapidly and was evidently badly damaged’. The electric power failed, and with the operation of the ship hampered Captain Ramsay Brown stopped the faltering engines, then ordered the chief officer and carpenter [Owen] to sound the bells and had the lifeboats lowered to the embarkation deck ... The bomb explosions along the starboard side of Deucalion had destroyed No. 1 Lifeboat, but the crew mustering at their boat stations began to lower the other boats as ordered. Unfortunately, at this juncture ‘some greasers and assistant stewards took it upon themselves to lower Nos 3 and 6 Lifeboats and pulled away from the ship’, a circumstance which infuriated the preoccupied Brown. They were men who had been drawn from the Merchant Navy pool and put aboard Deucalion as replacements for her normal Chinese crew of ‘Holt’s men’. Reporting afterwards, Brown was scathing about these ‘weak reeds’, fulminating that he ‘could never have imagined that any Britishers could have shown up in such poor colours.’

Once the damage had been located and assessed, and the ‘weak reeds’ re-embarked, Brown was of the opinion that his command was not in immediate danger, and consequently signalled a naval escort, the destroyer H.M.S. Bramham, that he should be able to proceed at around 10 knots. Bramham, thereafter, stayed in close proximity, which was just as well. Woodman continues:

‘Having passed Galita, course was altered at 19.40 to pass north of Cani Rocks, some fifteen miles further east. At 21.20, ‘after sunset when the light was very bad’, with the coast to the south now in shadow, two torpedo-bombers came in low with their engines shut off, one on the port quarter, the other on the starboard bow. Engaged by Deucalion’s guns, ‘The first plane flew along the port side without attacking, then flew off, whilst the second bomber sail-planed to within half a mile of the starboard bow, opened up engines and flew about 50 feet high parallel with the ship not more than 200 yards away. All guns that could bear opened fire and ... [scored] several hits. Nevertheless, as the plane drew level with the bridge ... an object [left] it, evidently fired by an explosive charge, and travel[led] horizontally towards the ship’. This struck Deucalion aft and ‘a tremendous fire broke out at once’ as the aviation spirit and kerosene in No. 6 ‘Tween-deck exploded. A sheet of flame shot skywards, ‘twice the height of the mast’, and the whole after end of the ship became a ‘raging inferno’. ‘The chances of extinguishing it were hopeless from the outset’, a crew member afterwards remarked. Brown ordered the ship abandoned as Baines approached in Bramham. The boats were hurriedly lowered, and a fall of No. 3 slipped on the slaghorn; one end of the boat dropped, spilling those in her into the warm sea, to struggle across the water towards the looming destroyer ... By 22.00 all the survivors were aboard Bramham, where Baines, seeing what he took to be lights of Vichy French vessels approaching, was anxious to get away.’

At 22.40 the Deucalion blew up, a sight no doubt witnessed from a suitable distance by Owen, now aboard the Bramham. But he was not, in fact, destined to end “Pedestal” i...