The time was 1545 on May 1, 1942. Kenneth Tipper. a telegraphist on the 1850-ton Tribal Class destroyer HMS Punjabi, was in the main wireless cabin just 15 minutes prior to going on watch in the cabin aft where he listened on high-frequency direction-finding equipment for Morse Code signals from marauding battleships like the Tirpitz.

The Punjabi was one of a screen of destroyers guarding US and British capital ships in a group covering Convoy P.Q. 15 on its way to Russia.

At 1545 on that unforgettable day. what had been a fairly uneventful trip turned into a nightmare. Suddenly, there was a tremendous crash. the Punjabi heeled sharply over on its side, and all the ship's lights went out. The immediate thought was that the ship had been torpedoed, but it later turned out that the Punjabi had been rammed and cut in two by the battleship HMS King George V, flagship of the Commander-in-Chief Home Fleet, Admiral Sir John Tovey.

In thick fog, the paths of the 35,000-ton battleship and the destroyer crossed. A court of inquiry later established that Punjabi had been well inside her station. following the destroyer HMS Inglefield. Soon after the fog came down, the leading destroyer sent out a signal to look out for a floating mine. To avoid the mine. Punjabi had turned to starboard and in so doing cut across the track of the battleship.

Ken Tipper and his shipmates scrambled over tilting decks to get to the upper deck in time to see the stern of their ship blown up by depth charges. The telegraphist Ken would have relieved one of those killed in the collision. It later transpired that by a miracle the majority of the crew survived - 206 men lived through one of the most bizarre events of WWII, picked up from the icy waters by the destroyers HMS Martin and Marme.

The scene on deck was chaotic, and when the order came to abandon ship it was very self-evident that it was every man for himself. The forward part of the ship, where most of the crew were located at the time of the collision, was listing badly and was obviously not going to stay afloat much longer. Four days' sailing north from Iceland had brought the fleet deep into the Arctic Ocean, and the water was icy cold and certain death for anyone swimming in it for many minutes. The ruptured fuel tanks of the Punjabi had laid a heavy film of fuel oil on the water and the decision of whether to wait on the sinking ship for help or jump in the freezing water was becoming one of life or death. The choice became obvious, and Tipper and most of his shipmates slid down the sloping side of the Punjabi into the water. and they were immediately coated with a thick covering of fuel oil. That oil, says Ken. probably saved his life, for he was sitting in freezing water up to his waist on an overloaded Carley Float (life raft), for a long time before they managed to scramble up ropes to the deck of HMS Martin, which, together with HMS Marne, was responsible for picking up the survivors.

Before they abandoned ship, Tipper and his shipmates had seen the horrifying sight of the aircraft carrier HMS Victorious, followed by the USS Washington, bearing down on them out of the fog. Both these huge ships just managed to avoid colliding with the stricken destroyer, the after part of which slid to the bottom some 45 minutes after she was rammed.

Aboard the Martin, the survivors showered in an effort to get the slimy fuel oil off their bodies, and were given oddly assorted clothing by the crew. "I could smell that oil for many years after the war," says Ken, who also recalls seeing several members of Punjabi’s crew, who survived the sinking but succumbed to the killing cold of the sea, being buried at sea. He vividly remembers one of them, a fellow telegraphist named Arthur Stiff, going over the side of the Martin wrapped in a Union Jack. "Stiffy, as we called him, had already survived two Sinking he says, "Stiffy was swimming in the sea close to our life rafts, and we called him to come over and hang on to it. He refused, saying he would be OK, but it turned out third time unlucky for him."

The final count was 49 members of the crew died in the collision, seven of them officers, whose wardroom was directly in the path of the bow of the battleship.

The sinking of the Punjabi was to set off an amazing set of coincidences in Ken Tipper's life. The first one was that the survivors were transferred to the King George V in Iceland for the trip back to Scapa Flow. the Home Fleet's base. While on board the battleship, Ken saw a sailor emerging from a hatchway on the main deck and recognized him as a fellow-employee of the newspaper where they worked in Birmingham. In fact, they worked in the same office! Both took a while to recover from the shock of seeing each other, and marveled over the fact that one's ship had sunk the others.

On the trip back to Scapa Flow, the King George V was listing badly due to a gaping hole in its bow. Tipper recalls being scared to spend too much time below decks on the battleship. but remembers nothing else about his time on the Punjabi's nemesis.

The survivors returned to their home depots of Portsmouth and Devonport, were kitted out, and sent on survivor’s leave. Their families were not notified for security reasons, and Tipper recalls his oldest sister's amazement when she saw him getting off a tram (street car) at the stop across from their house.

Returning to his depot. Tipper was reunited with a pal from Punjabi who had been on a hospital ship with appendicitis when the destroyer was sunk. They were both sent to the same ship for their next assignment, and served together for the rest of the war.

In 1957 the Tipper family emigrated to Florida, and in July. 1973, were living in Coconut Creek, north of Fort Lauderdale. Ken was reading the local paper and to his surprise saw that the reunion group of the USS Washington was holding its bi-annual meeting at a hotel in Fort Lauderdale. He called the hotel and asked for the organizer of the reunion, and that's how he came to meet John "Brownie" Brown. "Brownie' was equally amazed that nearby lived a survivor of the ship they last saw broken in two and sinking in the Arctic Ocean. He immediately invited Ken down to their hotel and they had a lively get-together, those American sailors and the "Limey", recounting their memories of that day in May, 1942.

"Brownie" and Ken stayed in touch, and at the reunion in Reno, NV, in 1989, Ken received his certificate of honorary membership in the BB-56 reunion group.

A group met for Bible study each evening while at sea and sometimes when in port. There were times when the group met with Bible study groups from other ships and in Pearl Harbor it met with the Bible study group from the submarine base. The picture of the group was taken in the library. All are identified except two.

Standing: unidentified, Glen Lockwood, MoMM2/c; Vernon E. Ledbetter, S2/c; H.A. Adams, FC2/c; Stover, GM2/c; Unidentified; J.M. Buckner, SF3/c;
Seated behind the table: Loer S1/c; Camendish, S1/c; Gustafson, EM3/c; J.P. McQueen, MM2/c; A.W. Malphrus, MM2/c; E.H. Barnaby, S2/c; Chaplain Lundquist, LT; Karl A. Parshall, PhM3/ c;
Front row: Frank E. Bullock, MM2/c; B. Feist, Pfc.; J.W. Pack, Sl/c.

Most of the time the study was led by one of the men who attended the class. A part of the time the study was led by the Chaplain. There were several others who also attended who are not pictured.

Being abreast of mount no. 1, the Admiral had the shipfitters build a storm shelter outside his door. I was standing AA watch as a hot caseman on Mt. 1. That was a cold North Atlantic day and a hot day for me. It was my duties to keep everyone clear. The mount started training inboard, and then the guns started depressing. I got on the phone but to no avail. Well, I guess this is where we could apply Murphy's Law, I'll never forget the rest. Me and those twin barrels were suddenly looking face to face with Admiral Wilcox for the first time and the last time. No, the guns didn't fire, but there were some hot times around that mount. My many thanks to the young officer who made my day. He said the phones were faulty.

While going to my battle station in turret one on the main deck, it was necessary to duck under the overhang to enter hatch opening. I looked to the starboard side and saw a Jap fighter plane going parallel with us. He was about 30 ft. off the water and about 50 ft. from us. The pilot's head was very visible. I watched him looking us over. At about the same time our 40mm and 20mm guns caught up with him, and he crashed in the water. There was one piece of the plane about a foot square floating in the air for a few seconds, and then he was gone. I’ll never forget the look on the face of this Jap pilot as if he were on a pleasure ride instead of a death ride.