大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a London CSV volunteer on behalf of Elizabeth Welsh McNulty and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

However a few moments later we were standing together beside the sailor, who was evidently waiting for someone. When she introduced herself as the mother of John McNulty the young sailor paled. 鈥淗ow do you know that I know your son?鈥� He asked.
鈥淢y daughter saw the name of John鈥檚 ship on your hat.鈥� At this he was covered in confusion and excusing himself, said: 鈥淚f the Military Police catch sight of it I will be arrested and Court Marshaled.鈥�

Returning a few minutes later he told my mother that he was not at liberty to speak about John, as what happened on the HMS Candytuft was a military secret. Then he added: 鈥淚 have a 48-hour pass, and I鈥檓 going to be married. For the sake of my bride I do not want to be upset.鈥�

Just at that moment I saw a young girl, still at some distance, fix her eye on him and start running towards him. As he caught sight of her, he excused himself in a hurry, but then hesitated and said: 鈥淚鈥檓 sorry I cannot be of more help, but this I can tell you: there are many sailors from the Candytuft here on the concourse. If you can find one of them, maybe he will give you the information you want.鈥� And with that, he was gone.

Within moments the imminent departure of the train for Ramsgate was announced. Even as we were settling in, we became aware that there were a number of young men in the next carriage. As soon as the train pulled out of the station my mother told me she thought the men in the next carriage might be from John鈥檚 ship and she was going to talk with them. Her surmise proved to be true.

At first the five sailors in the carriage were unwilling to divulge anything about the circumstances of John鈥檚 death. Pleading national security and military intelligence as the reason for their reluctance, but they finally gave way to her pleading. According to them an explosion occurred on the HMS Candytuft within twenty-four hours of leaving Reykjavik where she had docked for a major refit. Fourteen men were killed and eleven injured as a result of the explosion.

It had been suggested that a bomb, shaped as a piece of coal, may have been placed in the hold of the ship by a German sympathizer working at the docks. This theory has never been proved, but having seen photos of such bombs discovered on the east coast of Florida during WWII, I think it is a possibility.

John was asleep in his hammock when the explosion occurred and was scalded to death by the boiling water that poured from the burst pipes. 鈥淲as his face marked?鈥� She wanted to know.
鈥淣o,鈥� they told her. 鈥淲hen he was found, still in his hammock, his arms were covering his head.鈥�
鈥淚t鈥檚 the way he always slept since he was a baby,鈥� she told them.

鈥淲as there a possibility that he may have lived if he had been found in time?鈥� Was her next question.
鈥淧robably not,鈥� they replied.
鈥淏ut if so he would have spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair. The scalding was all below the waist and he would never have walked again. That would have been an awful burden for one so young. He enjoyed a game of football and would have been sore grieved not to be on the team. But we would have helped him, his father and I, had God spared him.鈥�

When she returned to the carriage my mother shared with me all that the sailors had told her, even though I was only nine. Having impressed upon me the importance of never talking about it outside the home, and even then only to my parents, she said I had the right to know because I was first to see the Messenger sent by Our Lady.

But that was not the end of the story. Towards the end of the war, in March of 1945 my father died, age 48 years. He had spent four years of his youth in the mud trenches of Europe in the War to End All Wars. Twenty-two years later he lost his son to yet another war. He himself was a man of peace 鈥� a champion bowler 鈥� whose only contest with life and living was on the bowling green. He deserved more from a country he had served so well.

In the September of that year, whilst shopping in Canterbury, my mother decided to treat herself to afternoon tea. The city still bore the scars of the blitz, and only a few restaurants were available so sharing a table with strangers was the norm.

When she went into Slater鈥檚 Tea Rooms, she was shown to a table in a small alcove at which a young man was already seated. Noticing that he was a sailor she could not refrain from saying: 鈥淢y son was a sailor but I lost him in the war. There was an explosion on board and he suffocated.鈥� With a gasp of surprise the sailor put down his knife and fork and said: 鈥淲ould that be John McNulty?鈥� Now it was my mother鈥檚 turn to gasp in surprise. 鈥淵ou knew John, you knew my son?鈥�

The story that unfolded was that the sailor sitting opposite her had served with John on HMS Candytuft. He told her that the day before the ship left the Port of Reykjavik, both he and John were the fortunate recipients of shore passes issued by the Captain. Since they were friends they decided to spend the day together.

Over of two hours he gave a detailed account of John鈥檚 final day on earth. Less that 24 hours after reporting back from duty John was killed, RIP. My mother never spoke extensively of this meeting, but she treasured it in her heart for the rest of her life. She lived for another eighteen years after the war in the awareness that each day was not a day away from John, but another step towards being with him for all eternity.

Who says miracles don鈥檛 happen, even at Charing Cross?

Chapter one : www.bbc.co.uk/dna/ww2/a5912912

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