Many times we read of the actions from the viewpoint of the submariner. Here are the memories of a crewman aboard a ship that was sunk by U-181. We encourage any survivors of ship sinkings to please give us their memories as well. We must save ALL this history forever. Thanks in advance. --HC

I was aboard the TINHOW, sunk on 11 May 1943. I am Ayub Ali, British citizen of 81 years of age with a fine family of three sons. The U-boat that destroyed our steamer was U-181. The following is an account of my ordeal that fateful night.

We docked at Durban (South Africa) the 23rd day of our voyage. From Calcutta we called at Colombo then Mombassa and afterward, we arrived at Natal. The great African continent was a welcome break for us seafarers. For the hardness of dry land for us mariners brought about a joyous stability in our legs that had swiftly become elasticized by the ship’s arbitrary nautical motion. For the next two weeks, the hustle and bustle among throngs of merchants, stevedores, clearing and forward agents, port officials and coolies overwhelmed us. Durban, lying south of the 33rd parallel, was one of the busiest ports on the South African coast on the Indian Ocean. We followed instructions and busied ourselves with routine chores, and at midday stopped only to cook meals and to pay our devotions. For, as Islamic followers, we Trippurian crew were firm believers in the predestination of Allah’s Design.

Natal was Dusty; People Boarding

On the afternoon we were to set sail was a hectic afternoon. I was on duty the whole day. Natal was dusty. The afternoon was breezy. Seamen, troops and spotlessly dressed local merchants collided with each other over narrow ramps, their arms and shoulders straining under personal baggage, their eyes reflecting the clear blue sky. Weather beaten, their faces eager with a sense of great duty and urgency. Passengers too, accompanied by those who enlisted our help on TINHOW. There were others. They were bound for predestined war zones or neutral territories. Many vessels carried anti-aircraft guns and artillery canons for the whole world was ablaze in the grips of World War II now ranging in its fourth, and most terrible, year.

U-Boats Lay in Wait

British Indians and our Allied forces were losing hundreds of ships every day. Deadly U-boats scoured the South Atlantic and Indian Ocean. They waylaid major shipping routes, and convoys were gathered to make safe passage possible. However, the destructive force of stealthy torpedoes launched from those submarines wreaked havoc across the major oceans of the world, and ocean going vessels were being hit faster than they could be built. Britain was building and launching a major vessel every twenty-four hours.

Afternoon loading schedules were met and we set sail. Exhausted, I fell into my bunk and because I was tired, tossed and turned for sometime before I fell asleep at around 2300 hours on the 10th of May of 1943. On that fateful night, we sailed northward for Haifa at about 6 - 7 knots with six holds full of potatoes and safety matches. I was twenty-three years old at that time, one of the youngest on board.

Awakened Violently!

I awoke with a terrible jolt and in a frightful stupor, rose to my feet in seconds. I was in a cubicle, my sleeping quarters. Almost instantly, a quake threw me violently against the slim wall opposite the two bunk beds. I had been fast asleep on the lower bunk and I had on a pair of short khakis after the labors of the day. I couldn’t tell whether it was a couple of hours or a few minutes that I had rested. I wrenched my feet into my brown derbies and sprung out into the night.

The spent half of a moon hung on a peg of a cloud and threw a yellow gleam about the ship. The TINHOW shuddered and lurched as if it were a wounded beast. It dawned on me that we were hit and I had to get off the vessel. The war had been raging now for the fifth year. I knew that being hit was the order of the day. We heard news and stories of many disasters every day - entire convoys sunk and no survivors.

Grisly news, yet we cared little. It did not deter us from embarking on these risky voyages. The pay was good, the food and board was free which meant we saved all our wages. Tobacco and chocolates were rationed weekly. We traded them amongst ourselves.

Rehearsals Meant Nothing - Total Panic!

The half blind engineer, who rarely emerged from the engineroom, sucked on an old fashioned pipe when he did, had obviously left the engines running. Treacherously inclined, the ship was still steaming ahead. Scurrying up the shaft, I headed towards my station. Despite emergency drills and rehearsals, nobody seemed to be at their respective stations. What they were supposed to be doing was to organize a calm and orderly evacuation. Instead, there was chaos! There arose a frantic rush toward the buoy and the boats. I quickly slipped on my life vest and headed towards the back of the ship, towards where I knew was one of the 18 boats.

Confused, and acting on some kind of automatic adrenaline, I was not thinking - just moving with the quick intuition of a jungle animal. I tripped and fell into the hold. It could have been twelve or thirteen feet down. I couldn’t see - it was pitch dark. I realized that there must be a ladder or shaft somewhere, and fumbled forward. My shoes splashed around and I heard the rush of water seeping between crates fast.

I recovered, and shinnied up the shaft back on the deck, ran past the saloon aft and jumped onto the starboard boat which men were trying to lower. The ship was still moving. Heavy braids of rope tugged at the hull. It was impossible to lower the boat.

Kicked in the… back pocket; Into the Ocean

For a second, I was distracted by an officer in a white tunic. His cap was on the boat floor but he was frantically searching inside a toolbox. Without realizing that he must have been looking for an axe to cut away the ropes - me, still subservient to my superior officer, gracefully picked up his cap and with an unforgiving complacency in such a life and death situation, handed it to him. In fury and frustration, the officer reacted with great agility and jack knifed his boot into the back pocket of my khakis, which had the marvelous effect of rearranging my senses to the clear and present danger ahead and towards my only option. I knew I had to jump into the ocean!

The boat could not be released, as many boats could not, and those that were released by swift hacking axes, turbulently headed into the whirlpool being created by the sinking vessel. Many capsized; others dragged down by the ship served little purpose. This ship, being an old thing, never had properly working sirens or bugles. Many of our mates could have been deep in slumber when she went down. The torpedoes sliced through without exploding.

Goodbye Shoes

The water was horrible. It cocooned my skin like cold broken glass. I sank deep enough to fight for breath and immediately kicked off my brown derbies. I had bought them in a second-hand shoe shop in Glasgow the previous year in 1942. That year our vessel HINJRA was up in the dry docks for a month. They were tanned brown, and a superb pair of shoes.

It Seemed the End had Come

Kicking them off however, deducted a couple of kilograms and buoyed by my vest, I popped up out of the deep. Gasping for breath now, I stared straight into the hot funnel of the vessel. It tried to suck me in, about a hundred feet in front of where I surfaced. I threw myself backward for dear life, and submerged under a gigantic wave. I held my breath until my eyes and ears buzzed. It seemed like the end had come. Only God’s Grace caused me to surface the second time. The ship was nowhere to be seen. Dozens of small red lights blinked around me. I realized one was blinking on my shoulder, next to a whistle. Foam and bubbles marked the spot where, ten minutes ago, was a ship on which we ate, slept, worked and dreamed. I was a good swimmer, but swimming for sport with a definite length, although arduous, is infinitely more pleasant than trying to swim two yards towards a hopeless horizon.

I aimed at a cluster of lights and caught hold of a davy. This is used for pegging the boats. It was round as a human thigh and twelve to fifteen feet long. Three sailors were holding on to it desperately. I swum on to latch myself on one side, which stopped the davy from rolling around in the water. It was difficult to keep it in balance and we kept changing our position and weight to keep the lumber from spinning.

We kept up the strategy of aiming for clusters of points of light, now visible all around us. We rose and fell in the deep swells. Moment by moment the remaining part of the endless night passed. Involuntarily swallowing pints of bitter salt water, our eyes and ears stinging from the salt, we watched the red orb of the sun slowly rising out of the blue dawn which quickly turned into a maddening glare.

We viewed this scene from our flotsam. The sea around us rose and fell in a gentle swell. As we rose higher, other unfortunates like us gripping various parts of the ship became visible. The scene calmed our disturbed souls a fraction. We are not alone in this misfortune is a thought greatly consoling to the human soul, even if only for an instant. It fortified and strengthened us against abject despair.

By midday we had dined on our last bit of courage, and a dreary mood gripped our being. We knew odds of survival in this condition was bleak. The sea and the sky became oppressive conspirators against us. One of my companions, the ship’s carpenter, could hardly move his legs and was offsetting the balance of the davy. He clung on like a leach. My other companion, the Chinaman, hung his head low over the log and breathed in a shallow, hoarse manner as if he were drawing his last breath. We were weak from electrifying cramps that shot up our legs and our muscles were heavy like lead. Frequently thirst horrified us, and it magnified to a billion angry suns dancing on each drop of sea, mocking and taunting our parched throats. I tried drinking it once, but spat out the foul ancient mixture. Others gulped down a few good pints.

Ayub Ali: 11 May 1943 Part 2 (# 162)