WesWorld

Naval Operating Base Puerto Princesa, Saturday, 2 July 1949

Admiral Suarez was as good as his word, and on Saturday morning Commander Salazar and Capitaine de Corvette Couturier found themselves at the foot of the gangway that led to the deck of the patrol frigate Jolo.

“There she is! What do you think?” Salazar seemed unusually happy at the prospect of time at sea.

Couturier was not unfamiliar with the ship, having observed her under construction at the Cavite dockyard when he had previously served as naval attaché, but this was the first time he had seen the Jolo, or one of her sisters, in the water, up close.

His first impression was that of a cross between a Sans Reproche class aviso and a Polynésie-class frégate de surveillance – about the size and displacement of the former with some of the capabilities of the latter. The ship boasted a 115mm twin mount forward, backed up by a twin 35mm anti-aircraft mount – more than enough to overawe any fishing or merchant vessel she might encounter. Aft he could see she carried equipment for handling boats or aircraft.

“Still very much a new ship.” The Jolo was little more than three years old, and her crew was punctilious about maintenance. “And seems well suited to her duties.”

The visitors were met aboard by the Jolo’s captain, Commander Miguel Raffiñan, a veteran of the South China Sea War back in 1940. “Welcome aboard! Carlos, good to see you! Capitaine Couturier, it is an honor to have you as my guest. Allow me to introduce my executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Antonio Munda.”

Introductions continued, after which Munda guided Salazar and Couturier to the cabins they would be occupying for the days ahead. He explained. “We are carrying a somewhat reduced complement, so there are available cabins; you are most fortunate. Take some time to settle in, and then I will return for a tour of the ship before dinner.”

Munda returned about an hour later, and guided the visitors on an informal inspection as the crew made ready for departure the following morning. The Jolo normally carried four seaplanes, but on this voyage only two would be embarked, the vacant space taken by additional boats and supplies for the stations out in the archipelago; indeed, the cabins in which they found themselves would have normally been assigned to pilots of the Jolo’s air unit. Likewise the ship would normally carry a troop contingent of more than one hundred Marines, but on this mission at no more than a dozen were present, their places being taken by Constabulary or contractor personnel destined to join those already deployed.

Below deck, in the engine spaces, they were introduced to Lieutenant Anatolio Cruz, the ship’s chief engineer – a man inordinately proud of this ‘children’ – the Jolo’s powerful diesel engines.

“She will do twenty knots easy enough, more than enough to catch any trawler, lugger, or even a cargoliner. Aye, she’s short-legged at that speed, but thankfully we rarely need to pour on that much coal. Let her idle at ten knots and we can go on forever.”

Cruz was over-confident, but ship seemed suited to its purposes. The purist might say the Jolo was short legged, but this was compensated for by her varied capabilities. Moreover, with the arrival into service of a series of escort tankers, refueling at sea would lay that particular concern to rest.

Thus introduced to their temporary home, Salazar and Couturier joined the Jolo’s officers in the wardroom for a lively evening of discussions about what lay ahead.

Naval Operating Base Puerto Princesa, Sunday, 3 July 1949

Aboard the Jolo last minute preparations were being made before she cast off. Couturier and Salazar stood on one of the bridge wings, trying to stay out of the crew’s way while they busied themselves with all the tasks of making ready for sea. The Frenchman noticed a rather odd looking craft in the distance and inquired what role it served. Salazar chuckled.


“It is known as a sea scow – several of them are operated by commercial firms in support of construction efforts in the island. You cannot build an artificial island without rocks to stabilize the sand dredged from the sea bottom. She will be heading up the coast to Honda Bay where she will pick up a cargo – we might even catch sight of her later in our voyage.”

Three hours later the Jolo was slowly making her way through the busy harbor and entered the Sulu Sea, shaping a course to the south-south west. Puerto Princesa had been a naval base since Iberian colonial times, its anchorage being deep enough for all types of vessels, well-sheltered from any adverse weather condition and out of the typhoon belt. From the viewpoint operations in the archipelago though, the port’s location on the eastern side of the island was somewhat inconvenient; on their present course it was expected that the Jolo would pass the Balabac Strait during the night.

That evening, after an excellent dinner in the frigate’s wardroom, Commander Raffiñan laid out the ship’s mission profile for the benefit of his guests.

“Our first order of business will be to visit our stations in the Vanguard Bank – the westernmost and most isolated of the Kalayaans. They are important in that they are able to monitor most of the ship traffic transiting the South China Sea along the coast of Indochina.”

Couturier’s ears perked up at this; he had heard reports of the Philippine placing stations in that area but little was known regarding their extent and capabilities.

“We will then work our way eastward performing similar duties for our facilities in the Prince of Wales Bank, Rifleman Bank, and the London Reefs. It may sound monotonous but it is very important. Serving on the outer stations is truly wearying on the personnel stationed there.”

The Frigate Jolo, At Sea, Monday, 4 July 1949

The Jolo transited the Balabac Strait in the early hours of Monday, passing from the Sulu Sea to the South China Sea proper, and dawn found her heading west-southwest. After breakfast Couturier joined Raffiñan on the bridge.

“Our present course will take us clear of most the shoals on this side of Dangerous Ground, which will ease the burden of navigation and allow us to make our best speed.”

“From the maps I have seen, few of the reefs in this quadrant have had observation posts established on them. Does that create issues?”

Raffiñan nodded. “It does.” He pointed Couturier to a pair of cruiser on the starboard bridge wing. “You will see one of them on the horizon.”


The Frenchman swung the binoculars in the indicated direction and saw the line of trawlers stretching as far as he could see. “Chinese?”

“Yes. For the moment they are in international waters, so we can take no action. The patrol combatant Hermosa is operating to their north, and will make certain that they stay in international waters. The water here is up to several hundred meters deep – further out, more than two kilometers – so they won’t be catching much fish. They are likely heading elsewhere, to better fishing grounds. The Hermosa might get some trade later today.”

In recent months the number of incidents involving Chinese fishing vessels encroaching on Philippine territorial waters had increased – due in large measure to heightened Philippine responses to aggressive Chinese fishing tactics. If the eight trawlers he could see were any sign of Chinese intentions, the pelagic resources of the South China Sea were in grave danger.

Later that day Lieutenant Commander Munda gave Couturier and Salazar a further tour of the ship, including the accommodations for the Marines who would normally be embarked aboard the Jolo. They were spacious enough for the reduced contingent presently aboard but were it not for the ship’s ventilation system it would be another Trou Noir de Calcutta under the tropical sun.

The throbbing of the ship’s diesels slowed, and Munda suggested returning to the deck to find out what was amiss.


They had come upon a lone Chinese trawler amidst a group of Philippine bangkas – one rather large mother vessel and several smaller skiffs. Raffiñan hailed the captain of the larger Philippine craft and inquired what the problem was; the latter complained that the trawler had intruded upon his seining operation. He then tried to hail the Chinese vessel, but it changed course and headed off.

“You are not going to pursue it?” Couturier was not certain whether Paris would want to have a French witness should an incident occur.

“No, if we chased every Chinese trawler on the high seas we would never accomplish our primary mission.”

Quoted from "BruceDuncan"

“No, if we chased every Chinese trawler on the high seas we would never accomplish our primary mission.”

Well, suppose if you torpedoed them? You wouldn't need to deal with repeat offenders. :P

Quoted from "Brockpaine"

Quoted from "BruceDuncan"

“No, if we chased every Chinese trawler on the high seas we would never accomplish our primary mission.”

Well, suppose if you torpedoed them? You wouldn't need to deal with repeat offenders. :P

While the Philippine Ministry of Defense might be willing to turn the Chinese fishing fleet into matchsticks, the Philippine Ministry of Foreign Affairs might object - particularly as the Treaty of Saigon limited the Philippines to a three mile limit. Please note, "High Seas". Get caught inside the three-mile limit and you'll end up in a Court of Admiralty.

The Philippine Navy still pays prize money on legal prize. :D

The Frigate Jolo, At Sea, Tuesday, 5 July 1949

The chart on the Jolo’s bridge marked her progress – late in the previous day she had passed what could be regarded as the ‘first line’ of reefs and shoals that were a threat to her – Swallow Reef to her north and Royal Charlotte Reef to her south – and entered an expanse of open water that was relatively safe for navigation. Late that morning Couturier was invited to the bridge by Raffiñan, who made an offer the Frenchman could not refuse.

“We are launching one of our seaplanes to reconnoiter to our north – just in case you understand – would you care to take the place of the aircraft’s observer?”

Couturier jumped at the opportunity – not only to get a better feel for the extent of Philippine activity in this part of the archipelago but to observe how the Jolo operated her contingent of Chilean Sea Coati floatplanes. It took about an hour to prepare him to take his place in the seaplane’s rear compartment, be strapped in, and then be pushed back in his seat as the catapult shot the Sea Coati into the sky.

The pilot explained that they would be overflying the southern reaches of Rifleman Bank – an area in which Chinese fishing vessels were known to operate. If any were found the Jolo might be summoned to take action. “We have stations in the area – so the Chinese tend to avoid Rifleman Bank – but sometimes they allow greed to get the better of them.”

For the moment however the sea seemed empty. Then on the horizon Couturier thought he saw the outline of a vessel and brought it to the attention of the pilot, who banked the aircraft in the direction Couturier had indicated. In a few moments they were over their ‘target’.


“Kingston Shoal,” the pilot explained. “A Chinese fishing boat ran aground two months ago in a storm and was abandoned there; we’re not certain what happened to the crew. Fishing can be a dangerous occupation.”

The Sea Coati circled for several minutes, affording Couturier the opportunity to see how the sea was slowly eating away at the hull plating and superstructure of the trawler. They then continued their patrol for another hour before returning to the Jolo, which heaved to in order to recover the aircraft and winch her aboard.

The image of the wreck impaled on the reef stuck in Couturier’s mind; perhaps this explained Raffiñan’s reluctance to go chasing after the trawler they had encountered the previous day – it would be bad enough had they chased the trawler onto an uncharted shoal; it would have been worse for all had the Jolo herself struck a reef.

Vanguard Bank, Wednesday, 6 July 1949

The Jolo had finally reached her destination – the Vanguard Bank at the western end of the Kalayaan archipelago. Commander Raffiñan laid out the situation on a chart of the area.



“The sandbanks in this region barely reach the surface at low tide, and few of them have reefs or rocks upon which we can establish observation stations – but we have made the necessary investment to erect sea platforms where conditions are most favorable. We should arrive at the first later today.”

Couturier and Salazar both examined the chart with interest; Salazar had never been this far into the Kalayaans before. “Eleven posts?”

“Yes,” Raffiñan replied. “It will take us some time and some careful navigation to safely reach them all, not to mention some good boat-work by my crew. The personnel on the stations are due for relief and resupply.”


An hour later the Jolo crept up on the first of the Vanguard Bank stations they would visit. Couturier marveled at the steel platform that rose from the sea, seemingly fragile in the face of storms. Raffiñan assured him that the platform themselves were strong enough in the face of waves and wind, stronger perhaps than the morale of the crews sent to keep watch from them. This station, at least, showed no evidence of DME equipment, which Couturier found somewhat surprising. He asked Munda, the ship’s executive officer, who explained, “Cost and priorities. Right now the stations at the eastern end are receiving the most attention. We do the best we can with what we have.”

For the next two hours a succession of small craft ferried men and supplies from the Jolo to the station, returning with the crewmen who had spent the last fortnight in isolation. Then, with an exchange of salutes the Jolo departed for her next rendezvous.


The next station at which the Jolo called was still under construction – the crew there were to be relieved by a quartet of artificers for the next stage of work. Again the ship’s boat crews conducted a ballet over the waters of the South China Sea. As evening approached the Jolo headed out to deeper waters; while the presence of beacons had rendered these waters safer for normal navigation, darkness made sailing near the many banks and reefs a danger not worth tempting.

Prince of Wales Bank, Friday, 8 July 1949

The Jolo had spent the previous day resupplying the isolated stations at the Prince Consort and Grainger Banks – Couturier was impressed by the willingness of the Philippine Navy and Constabulary personnel who undertook to man these outposts. As the Jolo approached the northern flank of Prince of Wales Bank it proved to be the site of much activity – in addition to a pair of observation platforms Couturier could see the unmistakable shape of a crane barge and its attendant tug.

“The one expansion project at this end of the chain,” Raffiñan explained. “They will be setting the initial rock walls for an artificial island, after which a dredge will begin pumping sand. The process will continue until there is a stable surface above the high water mark.”

Couturier nodded. “That will take some time…”



Jolo had no personnel or supplies due to be transferred to this station; Raffiñan had brought the frigate there for the benefit of his guests. She did stop at several other stations on Prince of Wales Bank, where the routine of transfer and resupply was re-enacted. Couturier found amusing how the personnel who had spent two weeks on a station reacted to the ‘spaciousness’ of the Jolo’s deck, and enjoying hot meals in her galley. No doubt these were one of the reasons the frigate had been chosen to act as relief ship.

As they departed the area Raffiñan changed course and brought the Jolo towards Alexandra Bank, the last of the eleven stations on the chart Couturier had been shown. From the frigate’s bridge he could see no station of the horizon, though as they closed, he could see a flashing beacon atop a mast, from which flew a Philippine flag.



“We’ve planted a beacon here to indicate possession,” Raffiñan explained. “There are sufficient outcroppings of rock here that a station like that of Scarborough Station might be constructed, if the Senate were to authorize funding. Admiral Suarez hopes that will come next year.”

Rifleman Bank, Saturday, 9 July 1949

The Jolo now lay hove to off the imposing structure at marked the northern extreme of Rifleman Bank.


“Welcome to Bombay Castle Lighthouse,” Munda said proudly. “It was one of the first stations established in this sector of the network, named for the British Indiaman. I served on her for three months after the station was completed.”

The solidity of the lighthouse intrigued Couturier, who accepted the opportunity to visit it. This was not spindly steel frame but a well-built concrete structure set on a rock, concrete, and sand base, standing more than twenty meters above the sea. The lower portion was given over to accommodation and generators, and the raised lighthouse was equipped with a powerful beacon that warned shipping to stay well clear of the shoals. He noted too that the station was equipped with DME equipment to track ship and aircraft movements.

“Rifleman Bank – is not that the reef on which that Chinese fishing boat was wrecked?”

Munda nodded. “Yes, that was on the southern tip of the bank. There are many unmarked shoals in this area. It is hard to mark them all, but we are trying.”

The resupply and relief of the station took a considerable period, and upon Couturier’s return to the ship he noted that an aircraft was being prepared for reconnaissance. Raffiñan suggested that Couturier go along. “There is something you will find interesting, though it is not on our current itinerary.”

Taking a rear seat in the Sea Coati was now a familiar enough chore, and it left the ship’s catapult with ease. The pilot headed north-northeast for perhaps half an hour, when the Frenchman caught his first glimpse of Spratly Island.



“Mon dieu!”

Spratly Island was one of the few naturally-occurring islands in the archipelago, perhaps six hundred meters in length and three hundred in width, but what he saw was far in excess of what nature had placed there. He could make out the beginnings of an airfield’s runways, camps for workmen, supply dumps, heavy equipment. Off one end of the island a dredge was busily pumping sand to expand the area in which he could see small bulldozers working. The aircraft circled several times, affording Couturier an extended opportunity to assess the progress being made.

That evening, in the Jolo’s wardroom, he discussed with Raffiñan, Munda, and Salazar what he had seen.

“So this is what Admiral Suarez meant about the lack of airstrips being worked on?”

Raffiñan nodded. “Yes, when it is operational it will give a great fillip to our activities in this sector. Unfortunately our schedule does not permit a stop there; I know you would find the details of construction and land reclamation most interesting.”

Cuarterton Reef, Sunday, 10 July 1949

Having resupplied the Bombay Castle lighthouse the Jolo sailed north-northeast, toward the general direction of the London Reefs, which stretched across the South China Sea between 8°49′ North/ 112°12′ East and 8°56′ North/ 112°52′East. Lieutenant Commander Munda explained:

“There are four principal features in this sector - East London Reef, West London Reef, Central London Reef and Cuarterton Reef, but to date only the latter has significant infrastructure. That is our last planned stop before returning to Palawan.”

“Planned?” said Couturier with some surprise.

“You recall that flotilla of Chinese trawlers we observed several days ago? We’ve had reports that they have been operating in the vicinity of Pigeon Reef to our east. The Hermosa has been keeping them under observation but the Chinese are playing coy with her. The Alfonso and Amadeo have been called in to assist the Hermosa. As we will be heading in their general direction, it is not impossible that we might find ourselves involved.”


They arrived in the vicinity of Cuarterton Reef by mid-day. While the Jolo stood offshore Couturier took advantage of an offer to go shore to inspect the station, which stood on a small cay that formed part of the reef. A fifty-meter tall concrete structure housed the navigation beacon that warned shipping of the danger and served as a navigational frame of reference. Like other stations in the Philippine network the beacon’s power was provided by a bank of diesel generators housed adjacent to the lighthouse itself.

When Couturier returned to the Jolo he discussed with Raffiñan and Salazar the plans for the future of the station. Proposals had been made to undertake significant land reclamation efforts at Cuarterton, given the existing rock outcroppings and cays that would form the basis of future construction. It was unlikely however that an airstrip could be built.

“Perhaps, if your government should decide to increase its procurement of them, helicopters might be based on those island not capable of housing regular airfields.” This suggestion sparked lively conversation that evening in the wardroom, as many of the Jolo’s officers were not familiar with the potential of rotary wing aircraft. By the time Couturier retired for the evening, he had won over several new disciples.

Dangerous Ground, Tuesday, 12 July 1949

The Jolo had cruised at a measured pace on her homeward journey. The waters here were known as Dangerous Ground, for more than a century a graveyard for ships due to the many reefs, cays, and shoals that would appear suddenly from the depth of the surrounding water. While the Philippine efforts to erect navigational beacons and lighthouses throughout the archipelago had reduced the hazards associated with transiting the area, Commander Raffiñan was taking few chances and plotted a course that avoided most of the known dangers.

Capitaine de Corvette Couturier was resting in his cabin, mentally composing an outline of a report that he would soon be sending to Paris. According to his hosts the Jolo should reach Puerto Princesa in about eighteen hours, and he had been advised that arrangements had been made for him to catch the first flight out. For this he was thankful.

“Point one – describe the general extent of the Philippine observation network – east to west.” For reference he circled the group of stations near Itu Aba, then the ones near Vanguard and Rifleman Banks. “Point two – describe the composition of personnel manning the stations…”

His reverie was interrupted by the ship’s klaxon sounding general quarters. In the companionways he heard the crewmen rushing to their stations and noted the throb of the Jolo’s engines increasing. He opened his cabin door to find out what was going on and encountered Salazar. “Come – let’s get to the bridge.”

Couturier began to object but then shrugged. If something major had occurred, being trapped below deck in an unfamiliar vessel offered few options. In Salazar’s wake he made his way topside and climbed to the bridge; upon reaching it he was handed a life jacket and helmet. “Just a precaution sir.”

Raffiñan explained their situation. “The Alfonso and Amadeo flushed a Chinese trawler fishing near Half Moon Shoals within the three-mile limit, and the captain of the fishing boat decided to run for it rather than allow them to board. They are in hot pursuit, and report that the trawler is east of Pigeon Reef, heading in our direction.”

In the open ocean the patrol combatants assuredly had sufficient speed to catch their quarry without the Jolo’s assistance, but the potential danger of running onto an uncharted shoal negated much of their advantage. And the captain of the Chinese vessel was apparently willing to believe he could lose his pursuers.

The Jolo’s dradis operator reported that he had the trawler on his scope, and Raffiñan ordered a course change to intercept. Moments later the ship’s lookouts reported visual contact off the port bow. A course change on the part of the trawler confirmed that the Jolo too had been seen, yet the fishing boat did not slow.

“Mount One. Put a shot ahead of him. We’ll let him know we mean business.”

Raffiñan’s order was quickly obeyed. The crack of the forward 115mm gun was audible throughout the ship. Couturier saw the splash of the shell erupt some one hundred meters ahead of the trawler, who still persisted in his vain attempt to escape. “Mount One – give him another warning shot.” This shot fell closer to the trawler, which suddenly slowed. The Jolo maneuvered alongside, soon to be joined by the trailing patrol combatants, and the Amadeo sent over a board party.


“Secure from General Quarters.”

Two hours later the Jolo was back on course for home; the Chinese trawler was taken into custody and would follow under the Amadeo’s watchful escort. In the days ahead her case would come before the Admiralty Court in Puerto Princesa, who would decide if the seizure of the trawler was legal or whether the craft ought to be released.

Off Puerto Princesa, Palawan, Thursday, 14 July 1949

The Jolo had returned through the Balabac Strait late the previous evening, and sailed northward along the east coast of Palawan. She now lay hove to off the harbor entrance, waiting for her pilot. For Arsène Couturier it had been a most enlightening two weeks; he now had a much deeper understanding of the extent, achievements, and challenges facing his hosts in developing their observation network throughout the Kalayaan archipelago. He had used the last hours of the voyage to draft the outline of the report he would write for the naval staff in Paris – one which he suspected might end up at the Quai d'Orsay or the Deuxième Bureau. There was a knock on his cabin door.

It was his escort, Commander Carlos Salazar. “The Captain would like you to join him on the bridge.”

“Of course.” Couturier closed his notebook and followed.

Arriving on the bridge he saw a small inter-island freighter coming down the channel, heading out to sea.


“Wither is she bound?”

Raffiñan laughed. “I have no idea – she’s not the reason I asked you to the bridge. If you will follow me please? Mister Munda, you have the conn.”

Couturier sensed that something was up, as Raffiñan and Salazar led him aft towards the open area that was normally occupied by the Jolo’s aircraft but was now filled with her crew assembled on deck.

“Attention!”

The ship’s small band struck up a tune, one not too familiar to them but known to Couturier since his birth, La Marseillaise. Far from home, under the tropic sun, his hosts were honoring him on the day of the Fête nationale.