大象传媒

Glasgow, October 1941. John Scott, a Boiler Fireman at Pearce and Becketts, was having a break from work when some of his fellow workers noticed a headline in the local Glasgow newspaper, 鈥淗MS Broadwater Sunk.鈥� They knew John鈥檚 son, Johnnie, was serving as a stoker on the ship. John was permitted to go home to break the news to his wife and five daughters, as well as his son鈥檚 wife, Martha (known as Mattie) staying with her parents, and now five month鈥檚 pregnant with their first child.
Worry about Johnnie began to build, but then Mattie鈥檚 younger brother, another John, remembered a telegram they had received more than a week earlier. He pulled the note from behind the mantelpiece clock. It read, 鈥淪afe and Well. Johnnie.鈥� They rushed to check the dates with the newspaper reports. The telegram was sent after the date of the sinking.
As the family were taking in the news and working it all out, the sound of the front door was heard, and in walked Johnnie, with a grin as wide as the Clyde. In tears, Mattie cried out, 鈥淲hat are you laughing at Johnnie Scott? We thought you were dead!鈥�

Johnnie himself takes up the story鈥�

I was called up for service to His Majesty's Navy on 3rd June 1940 and trained for six weeks in Bristol under a retired Chief Stoker R.N. Training lasted six weeks, then we were posted to a troop ship, The Duchess Richmond.
Our ship, which was to become our home for the next year, was waiting for us in Halifax, Nova Scotia: HMS Broadwater. She was not really fit to be a fighting ship, and being stokers, my fellow workers and I had many harrowing experiences in her engine room trying to keep up the steam. Subsequently, we were often in dock for repairs and improvements. The ship, formerly the USS Mason was one of 50 handed over to the Royal Navy from the United States Reserve in exchange for a 99-year lease on bases in the Western Hemisphere.
One of my ship friends was Nobby Hunt, who I'll never forget. I remember the night before we were torpedoed, he told me he had done his twenty-two years and would soon be receiving his pension. Unfortunately, he never lived to see it.
Lieutenant Parker also comes to mind. he was the first American citizen to be killed in the war: a brave man and a volunteer.
We left Newfoundland for the Clyde, and on to convoy duty. There were ships everywhere. On the fateful night of 18th October, the Broadwater was quite far astern. The crew had appealed to the captain, Lt. Commander Astwood, to slow down and stop to pick up floating survivors. The men were in the oily water, screaming for their lives and shouting to be saved. The captain, I remember, came down from the bridge. He was not supposed to stop under any circumstances, but he did, and he said, "You stokers will get me strung up!". We picked up eleven thankful and exhausted young men. On hearing the Scottish accents, one of them shouted, "Good old Rangers!", and with a Glasgow sense of humour, Alex Robertson, who was my mate, replied, "Just as well you said 鈥楻angers鈥� or ye'd get put back in!" Such was the comradeship of these brave men! Many other men never made it on board, as they lost their grip and slipped under the oily ship: sights I will never forget.
Sadly, those 11 sailors were all killed the next night aboard the Broadwater, along with 45 of the ship鈥檚 company. Our own men gave up their bunks in the Seamen鈥檚 Mess so they could rest up. I had offered a sailor my bunk, aft (it would be warm there), but he declined, and went to sleep near his pal, resulting in his death.
At about three or four in the morning, I was on the middle watch, tied onto a make-shift stool (2 pipes tied together and a strip of sheeting). The seas were very heavy and the old ship was rolling badly. Suddenly there were two bangs, a tremendous force, and Broadwater shuddered alarmingly. I was thrown off the stool by the impact.
Jimmy Beer, who was 4th Eng. Officer said, 鈥淕o up and find out what鈥檚 happened Johnnie." So I went up to find men running everywhere and someone shouting 鈥淎bandon ship! Abandon ship!鈥� (I think it could have been the Coxwain.) I realised with horror that the bridge had been blown away and the bow of the Broadwater was gone. Men were trying, with great difficulty, to get Carley floats (dinghies) onto the water. Our lives were certainly on the line! With great speed I ran back to warn Jimmy Beer who was trying to get through to the bridge to get out.
C.S. Pickering, our Chief Engineer, ordered the safety valves to be opened. He had been torpedoed before, on HMS Curlew, and knew that this would prevent the boilers exploding.
I then made for the Carley float. Suddenly it was stuck on the screws at the propellors, as they were out of the water by this time, although the ship still seemed to be floating.
I then remembered my Burberry trenchcoat. I find it hard to believe now, but I was young, and I never thought I could die. I asked the guys to wait while I went back for my coat. "No-way mate", was the chorus. 鈥淲e'll be gone.鈥� I thought of Martha my wife. Her last words were ringing in my ears, "Don't you come back without that coat!鈥� It was her parting gift to me and she had paid 拢7-10/- for it, in navy-blue regulation colour, from the posh Paisley's store in Glasgow. Well, Mattie was, and still is, a fiery redhead, so I ran back for my coat. All this would only have taken about one minute or so: I was fit and could move fast, and I was determined not to face her without that coat! Imagine! I got the coat, only to find the float had moved away from the ship and I had to jump, coat on my back, for dear life! What a girl Mattie must have been! She is still with me today 63 years on and still telling me what to do!
I struggled in the water and eventually was pulled on board by my pal Alex, who nearly got lynched trying to hold out for me. Fortunately he was the only one with a Swiss army knife to cut the tangled rope and set the dinghy free.
We made our way as best as we could in the appalling conditions.
鈥淪hip ahoy! Ship ahoy!鈥� went up the cry. Bearing down on us was HMS Bulldog, almost ramming us. She was on orders, 鈥渇ull steam ahead.鈥� She had got a 鈥減ing鈥� and was to take over as Senior Escort. At last the HMS Angle came to our rescue. The men were all in a flat spin by now and were desperate to get off. For us, she was our HMS 鈥淎ngel.鈥� I held the scramble net, while the men scurried up the side of the 鈥淭ell-Tale Charlie鈥�, as we called these ships. They were back-up ships and knew all that was going on in the convoy. I was last on and last off. 鈥楩air!鈥�, I suppose.
The first thing I did on board the Angle, was to go down to the engine room and hang up my Burberry trenchcoat to dry off in the heat. We watched from our rescue ship as the Broadwater was finished off by the gunners, and she sank in the cruel Atlantic waves, taking all the young men to the deep, including 鈥淕ood old Rangers.鈥� A sad night, and a very sad sight. On reflection we should never have stopped, but they were our brothers. What would anyone have done? Our Captain must have had a kind heart.

I鈥檇 love to know what happened to Jimmy Beer. I didn鈥檛 see him until we reached Londonderry when he was waiting at the pier. He hugged me and said, 鈥淭hank God you鈥檙e safe. Where did you go?鈥� 鈥淏ack for my coat!鈥� I replied. He was the one who advised me to send the telegram. I never saw him again. I think he was from Devonshire.
George Morris, the only Australian on board was also my friend. He was a big genial guy, and good company, but he too lost his life that dreadful night.
No news was made public until at least a week after the event, not like today when the enemy knows every move, but I鈥檒l never forget the look on the faces that day I arrived home, wearing the Burberry trenchcoat!

After his experiences on HMS Broadwater Johnnie Scott later served on HMS Exe and HMS Zebra. Now 89, he lives with his wife Mattie, in Rothesay, Isle of Bute, Scotland.
His words come from dictations, and notes and made by his daughter Elizabeth, who was born in February 1942.

The U-boat that torpedoed the Broadwater was U-101,commanded by Kpt. Lt. Ernst Mengersen, aged 29. In November 1941 he received the Knight鈥檚 Cross, and survived the war, commanding U-Boats for four years. He died in November 1995 aged 83.

David Scott
(third son of Johnnie鈥檚 youngest sister Nancy)

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