“On Monday, December first 1941, I signed on the Esso tanker CHESTER O. SWAIN at Revere, Ma and as a young Ordinary Seaman I was sure I had it made and indeed, I did; but just for one week. Like so many others, my euphoric bubble was deflated on December 7th, a day when life became serious - deadly serious. This ship would continue carrying highly combustible liquids from Gulf ports to East Coast destinations until the middle of February when it was forced into dry-dock for extensive repairs.

It was January 30, 1942 as we were proceeding from Ingleside, Texas bound for Wilmington, NC with 85 thousand barrels of gasoline that we received an S.O.S. from the Socony tanker ROCHESTER. Being too far south to be of any help, we could only continue on our way, but we were aware of an enemy submarine somewhere out ahead of us, and tension on board was running high.

Late in December, we had been told that from that point on, we should keep our clothes on at all times, even to try and sleep in an old cork life jacket - an almost impossible feat. On these nights, most men not on watch would not even try to sleep but would rather sit around in groups in the mess room. There were some men that would get dressed in their best clothes, their thinking being that if they were ever picked up - dead or alive - they would be presentable.

On the night of 30 January, 1942 the A.B. on my watch, an ex-Marine and a WW I vet, decided that he’d had enough and was going to get a good nights sleep, so he disrobed and turned in. Now I felt that if Joe could do that and be as relaxed as he was, then I could do the same and I was soon in a deep sleep. At approximately 0700 on the 31st, the alarm went off and I hit the deck running, but upon reaching my lifeboat station, I realized that my shoes and lifejacket were still down below, and that the only apparel I had on was a pair of pants - and they were on backwards!

This morning the weather was ominous - cold, dark and raw with extremely heavy swells and as we were meeting them head on, the ship would struggle up one mountainous wave and plunge into the deep valley beyond. This was a continuous scenario as we slowly and tortuously worked our way north. As I now survey our situation, the panic of the moment suddenly subsides for there off the starboard quarter fully surfaced and in plain view was a dreaded U-Boat, and another mile or so beyond was a second tanker.

The fact that we could now see this boat on the surface and in full view, and at the moment not heading in our direction was a most relieving, almost joyous feeling of relief. It appeared that this boat was working between the two ships, trying to determine which would be the most convenient target as he was also being severely tossed about. The weather supposedly was a neutral participant in this unfolding drama that we were part of, but I have always felt in some strange way, that it was biased in our favor.

I now learned that this cat-and-mouse game had been going on for more than an hour before the Old Man decided to sound the alarm, so I decided to go below and get myself organized. When I did get back on deck, the galley skylight was belching thick, black smoke. This must have seemed strange to that U-Boat Skipper, but all it amounted to was burnt breakfast. The cooks, in their haste to reach a lifeboat, had forgotten to shut down the galley stove.

Another classic incident of men in panic had taken place before the alarm had sounded, the Second Cook and a 16 year old mess cook (on his first ship) had put the after port lifeboat over the side. When I came back on the scene, the lifeboat was well down the side of the ship and slamming hard in an effort to self-destruct. To this day I don’t know why the Fourth Mate chose me to put on a harness and go over the side to retrieve this wildly swinging monster. Perhaps he felt that I was more expendable than the others. Anyway, while in the boat with all hell taking place, my thoughts were that if that damn U-Boat doesn’t get me, this lifeboat surely will.

Later on that day, when we were safely tied up in Wilmington and could compare our experiences amongst ourselves, we found that now in complete safety that many things that had taken place were cause for a chuckle. One sad thing happened was that of an engine wiper who had thrown his jacket toward that swinging boat and missed, his seaman’s papers and all his money were in the pockets of that jacket.

Little by little over time, I have by way of my own diary and a great book by MICHAEL GANNON (101-1985) OPERATION DRUMBEAT and the book A CARELESS WORD by CAPTAIN ARTHUR MOORE (533-1990) have given me a 95% reason to believe that the U-Boat we encountered that morning was U-106, commanded by Kapitänleutnant Hermann Rasch, featured in KTB #105. If anyone has any information that might confirm or counter my thoughts I sure would appreciate hearing from you.”

HAROLD, many thanks for this great piece of first-person memories of the war. I hope these short articles, these memories of the men who actually served in the war, will help other veterans to get their stories into our archives and preserved forever in history.

To all you veterans who do this - many thanks! To those veterans who have not yet sent their memories to us, to be preserved forever in history - please do this right away. Thanks in advance.