Passages: Canadian Sailors in Convoys

Many Ocean Crossings are Recalled in Memoirs 

The Jervis Bay is Sacrificed

Convoy in Bedford Basin, Halifax, April 1, 1942. Members of Effingham

Division were training aboard landing crafts in Scotland at time of photo.

Photo Credit - National Archives of Canada, PA-112993.

Introduction:

My father Gordon D. (Doug) Harrison (Effingham Division at HMCS Stadacona, Halifax 1941) and about 100 other new members of RCNVR and Combined Operations made their way to the United Kingdom - for their first taste of training aboard landing crafts at HMS Northney, Hayling Island - by way of a convoy of various troop ships, cargo ships and escort vessels. 

Their first ocean-going voyage via convoy was significant - first taste of the sea, other than during a few hours aboard a mine-sweeper - and is mentioned in memoirs. In my travels via research, I have read many tales (from exciting to horrifying) associated with convoy journeys and duties. 

A few items are assembled here related to convoys, the Canadian Navy and the first two drafts of Canadian members of Combined Operations (approx. 50 men in each draft).

The Convoy Must Go On

Whether they assembled in Halifax or New York,
to get to Britain, the Allies' fortress in Europe, 

every convoy passed close to Newfoundland

and then on out into the North Atlantic,

escorted by the Navy.

And out there the submarines lurked,

long, slim, dark shapes loaded with torpedoes,

each with a warhead deadly enough

to blow any ship to Kingdom Come...

And the convoy would steam on,

at the pace of its slowest ship,

while any ship that was crippled 

would be left to the mercy of the lurking sub

when the escorting navy vessels

were over the horizon.

It was the worst kind of war,

fought on a battlefield of the enemy's choice,

and from late 1939 until late 1943

the enemy was winning.

Losses were horrendous,

so high that they were never announced...

There was simply no other route.

It was the North Atlantic or nothing.

And many hundreds of Canadian sailors -

navy and merchant marine - 

died in those bitter waters

to keep that supply route open.

Page 171, from Six War Years 1939 - 1945 by Barry Broadfoot

I have written in earlier entries that - when I started taking an interest in my father's WWII experiences - I initially believed he was a merchant mariner and served in the Atlantic aboard supply ships, that he was miffed that his service was basically ignored or forgotten. And after I read U-Boat Wars by a German writer/photographer (purchased in Ottawa, after burying my father in the Atlantic), including accounts of the tonnage of ships and supplies lost by the Allies, and the associated lives lost, I came away thinking, "Why would anyone join the Merchant Marine?"

Plaque attached to a wooden ship (containing my father's ashes)

I launched into the Atlantic in summer, 2010
 

(Since that time I have learned my father was RCNVR and Combined Operations, 1941 - 1945). 

Grim Days Convoying Supplies Across the Atlantic Ocean 

The Facts

Six days after the declaration of war,

the first convoy moved out from Halifax bound for Britain.

The Battle of the Atlantic had begun. 

And even before the outset it was realized that

the original idea of Canada's naval function

would have to be expanded.

The facts were simply these.

A continuous and growing stream of cargo

must reach the British Isles from North America.

If the stream were interrupted even for a short time,

Britain's war-making potential would be

less than necessary for the task facing her.

If it were interrupted permanently,

Britain would become an isolated outpost

certain to fall...

Everything depended on those herds of dingy

freighters struggling across the western ocean.

German U-boats were already sniping at them

in the Irish Sea and the waters around Britain.

There were many U-boats and they 

would soon be ranging farther afield.

For a time the convoys could

be protected by British ships -

battleships, cruisers, destroyers,

armed merchant vessels -

assisted by our few destroyers.

In the long run, however,

Britain's navy, mighty as it was,

simply would not be able to provide the

ships to meet intensive submarine attacks...

Here was where the great decision

on Canadian naval policy was taken:

we would build these ("Corvettes,

(to) provide protection for convoys")

and other small ships, float and man them.

Relieve the bigs ships of Britain for other tasks,

Work toward a future in which

we would take practically the whole task

of convoying supplies across the Atlantic.

The Grim Days

The first three and a half years

were the worst. It was during these years

there seemed every possibility of losing...

A convoy whose designation was SC 42...

reached its western ocean rendezvous off

Nfld. on the afternoon of September 2, 1941.

The (destroyer) Skeena and her three corvettes

joined and the convoy swung off northeastward

on the long road to Britain. The course...

around Cape Farewell and the tip of Greenland,

then due east.

For seven days the corvettes jogged along

beside the wallowing ships, nosed about

amongst the columns and out on the flanks.

The Skeena, faster than the corvettes,

rode out ahead looking for trouble; steamed back

to circle the convoy; moved out ahead again.

On the seventh day, the Skeena received signals

warning her that there were U-boats ahead.

The convoy swung north, off its planned route,
in an attempt to throw off the enemy. At dusk,
September 9 there came the dull roar of an explosion.
The fourth ship in the port column of the convoy,
her belly blown out by a torpedo, sank like a stone.



Pages 14 - 15, from H.M.C.S: One Photographer's Impressions... by Gilbert A. Milne

 

After reading several stories (ten years ago) such as the one above, from a German photographer's point-of-view, I asked myself, "Why would anyone join the Merchant Marine?"

My father may have asked the same question during his first ocean-going-voyage aboard the Dutch-liner MS Volendam in January, 1942. 

He recalls the following in memoirs:

I Heard Cries for Help. We Were Unable to Stop

After returning from leave

we were put aboard a large passenger liner,

Queen of Bermuda, which went aground going astern

as we left harbour and couldn’t be moved.

We bailed water all night with pails -

on a huge ship like that -

like emptying a pail of sand one grain at a time. 

However, we were transferred

to a Dutch ship called the Volendam,

with a large number of Air Force men.

This was to be an eventful trip.

The convoy consisted of a destroyer

H.M.S. Firedrake, armed merchant ship Jervis Bay*

(sister ship of the famed Burgess Bay who held off

a large German man o’ war until the remainder of its convoy

could escape, costing her her life and all aboard) and

an American four-stacker loaned by the USA to England. 

The Dutch captain lined us all up and assured us

we would arrive safely because the Volendam had

already taken three torpedoes and lived to sail.

This was very heartening news for those of us

who had never been to sea except for

a few hours in Halifax upon a mine-sweeper.

Our first meal was sausage with lots of grease.

Naturally, many were sick as it was very rough.

Late at night I was on watch at our stern and saw

a red plume of an explosion on our starboard quarter.

In the morning the four-stacker was not to be seen.

The next evening I heard cries for help,

presumably from a life-raft or life-boat.

Although I informed the officer of the watch,

we were unable to stop and place ourselves

in jeopardy as we only had the Firedrake

with ASDIC (sonar) to get us through safely. 

After some days we spotted a light

on our port stern quarter one night.

It was the light of the conning tower of a German sub.

How she failed to detect us, or the Firedrake detect it,

I will never know. I was gun layer

and nearly fell off the gun (4.7 gauge).

I informed the Bridge and the Captain said,

“Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot. It could be one of ours.”

But as it quickly submerged we did fire one round

to buck up our courage. 

Some days later we spotted a friendly flying Sunderland

and shortly after sailed up the Firth of Clyde to disembark

at the Canadian barracks called Niobe.

Before we disembarked, however, we took up

a good - sized collection for the crew of the Firedrake

for bringing us through. It was soon confirmed that

the American four-stacker had taken a fish (torpedo).

Page 8 - 9 “DAD, WELL DONE”, Naval Memoirs of G. D. Harrison

*Jervis Bay will be mentioned again in the last passage in this day's entry.

Volendam, Dutch Steam Passenger Ship, courtesy of the Allen Collection

As found at UBoat.Net ("Ships Hit by U-boats") Damaged by U-60.

Another member of the Royal Canadian Navy Volunteer Reserve and Combined Operations recalls a very similar story in his memoirs, from aboard the same Dutch passenger ship:

Journey to the UK

In January 1942, a few days after returning to Halifax,

we were inspected by an Admiral as the band played Maria Laina.

He wondered why some of the boys had volunteered

and was somewhat taken aback when told that they

didn’t know what they had volunteered for!

After the inspection, we were bussed to the jetty and

boarded HMS Queen of Bermuda, a peacetime cruise ship

that had been converted to an Armed Merchant Cruiser.

The ship carried several 8 or 11-inch guns and

had a swimming pool and a movie theatre.

There was plenty of room and I had visions of

eating really well all the way across the Atlantic,

since I was to work in the officers’ pantry!

We sailed at noon in a heavy snowstorm,

missed the starboard buoy, which marked

the channel to follow, and grounded on a rock!

The result was a 30-foot hole in the bottom.

I spent the evening on board watching a movie

and listening to the metal crunching sounds from down

below as the ship moved with the motion of the waves.

A bucket brigade was organized, stretching up several decks and

after a restless night sleeping on deck I joined the happy band.

The chances are that it was the one and the same

bright person who put us on the rocks, who decided

we must bail out the Atlantic Ocean with buckets!

In any event, the ship was filled with sealed empty oil drums

for buoyancy to reduce the chances of sinking if hit by a torpedo.

Later that day a minesweeper failed to pull our ship free,

so we threw our kit bags over the side and into a tug,

disembarked and returned to the base. Of course,

we were not expected to return and the accommodation

we had just vacated was now occupied by a new group.

Those of us who could afford it were given leave

and I went back to Ottawa for a week or two. 

A few days after returning from leave,

we embarked on the Dutch troopship Volendam 

along with thousands of RCAF aircrew.

We sailed the next day with another troopship

and an escort of two R.N. destroyers.

This was considered a good escort in those early days,

as escort ships were very scarce.

That evening, while on lookout duty on the bridge,

I was surprised to see one of the destroyers, HMS Belmont,

go full speed ahead followed shortly by two huge explosions.

She had been hit by two torpedoes.

I had been feeling a bit queasy earlier but

this was miraculously cured by the enemy action.

We heard later that the destroyer had sacrificed itself,

since the safety of the aircrew on our ship was paramount.

For obvious reasons, we didn’t slow down to look for survivors

but, since we were only a short distance from Halifax,

a rescue ship came out to look for them.

Page 3, from My Naval Chronicles by Lloyd Evans
As found at Combined Operations Command by Geoff Slee, Scotland

Coincidentally, in a book already quoted at the top of this entry (i.e., Six War Years 1939 - 1945 by Barry Broadfoot), another story re convoy duty is presented (it follows shortly) that relates to a ship other than the Volendam that is directly related to the last two stories by Doug Harrison and Lloyd Evans. Doug and Lloyd, aboard the Volendam at the same time, were members of the first two drafts of Canadian sailors who volunteered for Combined Operations in December 1941, while in Halifax.

Back L - R: Unknown, P. Bowers, Lloyd Evans (Ottawa), Don Westbrook (Hamilton)

Front L - R: Don Linder (Kitchener), Unknown, Doug Harrison (Norwich, Ontario)

Location and date - Likely in the Mediterranean theatre, e.g., Malta 1943

Their paths crossed many times, I'm sure, during their two years overseas (1942 - 43), while manning landing crafts and training for - and participating in - most of the same raids and invasions, re Dieppe and the Mediterranean theatre of war (N. Africa, Sicily, Italy). 

A Precious Atlantic Cargo

We left Liverpool in a convoy,

freighters mostly, at 9 knots on November 1, 1940,

and we stayed with that convoy for two days and

then the Duchess of Richmond left the convoy.

The convoy could only go about 9 knots and 

the Duchess of Richmond about 18 knots.

...We had such a precious cargo.

There was about 600 officers and other men

of the Royal Air Force coming to Canada, Moose Jaw, to teach

in the air schools and about a hundred civilians with priorities,

gold bullion and armaments and other things, I don't know what.

About 36 hours later the Admiral Scheer,
the (German) battleship, began to trail us.
We knew it was there but we couldn't see it.
At night we were blacked out and the old
Duchess of Richmond got her speed up to 22 knots
and she was just about shaking herself apart,
but we just had to keep going as fast as we could.
That precious cargo, it would have been a disaster
if those 600 air force men had been sunk.
In November, nobody would have lasted more

than a few minutes in the Atlantic, you see.

A lot of men in the freighter were killed,

and 16 or 17 were in lifeboats or in the water,
but there was no way the captain of the Duchess of
Richmond could go in and save them.

With such a precious cargo

of trained men and executives and gold,

he just had to get away as fast as he could.

And it was the sacrifice of the freighter

which saved our ship.

When we got to Quebec City 

it was all in the newspapers and then we learned

that the freighter was an armed freighter called

the Jervis Bay* and that the men who had sailed in her

were being treated as heroes. If she hadn't been there

that German battleship would have blown

the Dushess of Richmond to smithereens.

That would have been a terrible disaster,

all those highly trained men killed.  

Page 176 - 177, from Six War Years 1939 - 1945 by Barry Broadfoot

*Jervis Bay: If it was "sunk quickly" in early November, 1940, as reported (records state HMS Jervis Bay was sacrificed and sunk on November 5, 1940) then my father was mistaken when he mentioned the ship was part of his convoy's escort in January, 1942. It may be that he saw or heard that HMS Belmont (and not Burgess Bay, another ship Dad mentions and for which I can find no record) was part of the escort. And when HMS Belmont took action one evening during his crossing, as Lloyd Evans reported, someone may have told the story of the sacrifice of the Jervis Bay, which my father may have recalled. (Another 'memoir' mystery for me to unravel, if possible!)

An item from the January 31, 1944 issue of The Winnipeg Tribune caught my eye recently:

"Why would anyone want to join the Merchant Marine?" immediately sprang to mind.

 
To read more significant passages from books connected to Canadians in Combined Operations, please link to Passages: Operation Baytown - Invasion of Italy, 1943 (1)

Unattributed Photos GH