TORPEDOED!

Otago Daily Times, Issue 24415, 28 September 1940, Page 5

TORPEDOED!

A SURVIVOR’S EXPERIENCES A GRIM NARRATIVE One of the survivors of a company of 400 people on board a steamer which was, while in convoy, sunk by submarine attack 200 miles north-west of Ireland, with the result that 80 lives were lost, has given a narrative of the occurrence in a letter received in Dunedin. The letter gives the following vivid account of his experiences, the name of the vessel that was attacked being omitted;— We set off on the Tuesday and after a dull journey at 7-8 knots were torpedoed just after lunch on Friday, 1 had walked aft along C deck starboard side, and was about to climb the companion to D deck when a torpedo struck starboard side forward of the engine room. I did not fall and was not sure we had been hit, as the explosion was not loud. But a moment later water fell on my head. Expecting heavier stuff I dodged under the companion. The water turned out to be fresh—No. 3 boat -was blown to bits and No. 5 (mine) blown up beside the funnel and probably burst, the fresh water tanks. Splinters of torpedo were strewn where I stood a moment before. I was putting on my lifebelt (always carried) when I saw another torpedo strike the next ship to us. She got it at the stem and did not sink. Two escort ships and two cargo ships remained with us while the rest of the convoy went on. The escort vessels concentrated on hunting the U-boat. The A took a slight list when hit and remained steady at that. Passengers began to appear wearing their life jackets, and since there was no sign of a lifeboat making ready for us (No. 5 being out of action) I went below to collect coat and sweaters. It was dark in the passages. but I found my way to my cabin, turned on the flashlight, closed the port and hastily stuffed things in my pockets, then returned to No. 5 boat station. Someone borrowed my torch. I saw they were lowering the heavy motor boat from the top deck where No. 5 should have been. (Now I come to think of it I never saw No. 7, whether it was smashed or got away in good order). They got the motor boat into the water all right, but could not cast off the tackle at the bows: the swell made it difficult. After some efforts someone said “Cut it,” which was soon done with a hatchet. A line was thrown to us, made fast to the rail, and we began to slide down two other ropes to the boat below. I landed in the bows and soon someone came on top of me. so I crouched under the thwart. The .motor board was soon overfull, and owing to the crowd it was impossible to start up the en-' gine. We tried to get out sweeps. There were too many of us and the boat began to capsize, > then jumped into the sea and swam away. They say some were trapped in the boat when she turned over—an unpleasant thought. I swam away from the A in fairly smooth water. We were on the lee side; there was fuel oil on the surface. Soon I was slapped in the face by small waves and swallowed some. The tie of my. life jacket came loose and the water on my glasses confused me, so I threw them away. At this point it seemed I should drown, but I pulled myself together and trod water while tying the life jacket again and swam back to the: shin.

People were getting on rafts and I swimming about and I looked for something to hang on to, for I felt I could not last long just swimming about. Clothes and raincoat were waterlogged and an encumbrance. I caught hold of half a boat-hook—no real support—and then saw the upturned motor boat close beside the ship and swam towards it. P —— and others were sitting on the keel, and he called me. Just as I got there someone in front of , him fell off or deliberately left the. boat. Anyway I held ub the broken boathook which, he grasped, and with this help scrambled up on the keel. With his legs twined round the propeller shaft, P had a firm hold, but he was constantly washed up to his head by waves. Being ahead of him I was not so washed but had no anchorage and found it difficult to hold on. One end of the boat was low in the water (weight of engine). At the other end the “riders on the keel” were quite dry and, having an oar, were trying to push off from the ship. They put the oar in portholes and shoved us forward. We got to the ship’s bows —the wind helped to push us away—but here the waves were worse and tended to lift me off the keek I had to hold on hard but made use of these lifts to shift a little forward—and upwards. P abandoned his anchorage on the propeller shaft and worked his way forward close behind me. Thus we hung on looking hopefully towards the rescue ships and sadly towards the A ■. She was heeling over our way. I saw our No. 5 boat slide down as she took a steeper list. We were a safe distance away by now. She went down stern first at 3.15 an hour and a-quarter after being torpedoed. Then ■ I saw a boat coming to US. p was very exhausted. I was holding his hand round my waist to steady him. I suffered mainly from the intense cold. They pulled us aboard the lifeboat fairly easily and quickly —my legs were useless at first. Soon I felt better and began to help with an oar. This was about 4 p.m. They were taking on people hanging on a raft, but being too many towed the raft and occupants to an escort vessel. She was no longer hunting the U-boat, but come close to us. I was soon over the rails and on deck of one of H.M. ships and felt much happier. We were given rum and tea, and one man received artificial respiration. P was in a rather bad wayvery bad abrasions on his legs—and I had to hold the rum to his lips and help a sailor remove his clothes, and they took him away. My clothes were removed and a towel tied round my waist. I was given a sailor’s blue trousers and socks and a chief armourer’s jacket. On the deck just outside I saw sailors sewing up two bodies. (As I got on the keel of the motor boat I had seen pass me a man, his head out of the water, his face blue, froth at his mouth, and sightless eyes.) About 8 p.m. a destroyer and flying boat appeared to help hunt the U-boat. Several depth charges were dropped. They sounded like a rattle of chains under the ship. The crew were cheerful, friendly and very helpful. I went to the petty officers mess. On Saturday, a lovely fresh morning and smooth sea. we were still cruising round after the U-boat. I don t know-if sthey got him. Soon we began to pass through wreckage and oil. and realised we were on the scene of the crime—lifeboats, deck chairs, tables, barrels, went by—and some bodies! In the late afternoon we caught up witn the homeward convoys. We saw it from afar. An impressive sight—like an industrial town. There were 64 ships doing a solemn eight knots zig-zagging all the time. I' had been depressed by the events of the previous day but this sight cheered me up a lot. We took up our station at the head of the convov and patrolled to and fro across it. On Sunday we met a convov going the other way- All told there must have been 100 ships in sight. The number of full oil tankers in our convoy was a cheering sight, too. On Tuesday morning our ship came alongside Princess landing stage lust for long enough that the survivors ” (I’ve got used to being called a “survivor”) might walk off. She then went off to “ oil.” I was sorry to say good-bye to her.