大象传媒

In August 1942, I was serving as Second Officer, and Navigator, aboard 鈥淓MPIRE REINDEER鈥�, of 10,000 tons, standing the 12-4 watch. This convoy SC94, of 36 ships, left Sydney, Cape Breton Island in Canada , bound for Britain. Hence 鈥楽C鈥� in the name which abbreviation also meant 鈥榮low convoy鈥�. The convoy was escorted by six corvettes and the Canadian destroyer 鈥淎ssiniboine鈥�.

In convoy it was standard practice for all ships to indicate their noon positions by flag hoist, radio silence being mandatory. During night time, a total blackout of all ships was necessary lest the enemy become aware of our presence. Thus we blundered around the oceans whilst keeping a very sharp lookout, with fingers crossed and without the comfort of radar.

Station keeping in fog was a hazardous and often hair raising procedure. By day, all ships would stream a 鈥楳ackworth鈥� buoy on a wire 400 鈥� 500 yards astern. This contraption threw up a small plume of water as it was towed and was the only indication of the ship which should be the next ahead in the column. It worked reasonably well in slight sea conditions 鈥� which hardly ever occurred 鈥� and was usually out of sight as ships endeavoured to maintain station by varying the engine revolutions; ships not being fitted with brakes! During the hours of darkness a shaded blue light was exhibited at the stern and some collisions were inevitable.
Following our departure from Sydney, the convoy ran in to fog on the Grand Banks. A night time alteration of course was signalled by ship鈥檚 whistle but the column of ships to port failed to hear the signal and became separated 鈥� but did rejoin the main column later when the subsequent situation became clarified.

On August 6th, the 鈥淎ssiniboine鈥� sighted a submarine on the surface and attacked her by gunfire. The submarine, which was U210, returned fire, setting the destroyer鈥檚 Bridge on fire. The submarine was unable to dive and, eventually, the destroyer decided to ram her, sinking the U-boat. However, 鈥淎ssiniboine鈥� was so severely damaged she had to put back to St. Johns for repairs.

August 7th saw no enemy activity but the following day was a different story. On 鈥淓MPIRE REINDEER鈥� I had my noon position flags hoisted. With the telescope at my eye to read the Commodore鈥檚 hoist, the 鈥淭REHATA鈥� was hit amidships by a torpedo and broke in two, sinking within three minutes. I missed seeing her sink as I was sounding the action alarm. A further four ships were torpedoed in quick succession causing considerable activity within the convoy. On my ship we experienced a tremendous thump and the ship heaved. I was convinced that we had been hit as I had survived a torpedo attack some four months previously.

Our crewmen were preparing to lower the lifeboats without orders. On the Bridge I looked fore and aft to see where we had been hit and realised that there had been no torpedo, despite the enormous thump, and ordered the boats to be secured again. As it happened, three ships ahead of us did abandon ship obviously in the same belief as ourselves. Seeing their ships unharmed the crews of 鈥淓mpire Moonbeam鈥� and 鈥淓mpire Antelope鈥� re-boarded. Sadly, those of 鈥淓mpire Radchurch鈥� did not.

On August 10th we were torpedoed on the starboard side under the Bridge. The ship took an immediate heavy list to starboard; Abandon Ship was ordered and the crew commenced clearing away the boats. I was about to board the boat when there was a rush of men from the port side reporting that their boat could not be lowered and they subsequently boarded the two starboard boats as well.

Hearing screaming from the abandoned port boat, I observed that a young deckhand had his hand jammed in the block (through which the boat falls passed). By this time, only the Captain and myself remained on the deck. I saw that the rope passing through the block would have to be cut from within the boat to release the man鈥檚 hand. I normally carried two knives but had passed both of them to the crews of the starboard boats. However, the Captain had a small penknife, which he passed to me and I climbed in to the port boat. There I realised that cutting the rope would mean a free-fall of the bow of the boat and that both of us would fall with it in to the sea.

I told the deckhand to clasp me with his free arm and griped the lifeline with my left hand. Then I sawed through the 3-inch manila rope and the boat and ourselves fell in to the sea. In doing so, I suffered massive rope burns to my left hand (and had no fingerprints on it for the succeeding year as a result!) but it had the desired effect and I did not even lose my uniform cap on hitting the water. Our own boats picked us up and we transferred to the corvette 鈥淒IANTHUS鈥�. Our own ship subsequently sank.

鈥淒IANTHUS鈥� had herself been heavily damaged in the sinking of U379 on August 8th but was still able to rescue crews from ships that had been sunk. During my four days aboard the corvette I was not aware that she was down by the head and have virtually no memory of those few days. We were landed in Londonderry in N.Ireland on August 14th.

Subsequent research indicates that the enormous underwater explosions, which caused the ships to be abandoned, could have been caused by an exploding munitions ship which was already beneath the waves.

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