SS Laconia U-Boat Attack From Both Sides [Part 1 KTB 170]
SS Laconia U-Boat Attack From Both Sides [Part 2 KTB 172]
SS Laconia U-Boat Attack From Both Sides [Part 3 KTB 173]

On 27 September, we saw quite clearly during the morning, a three funneled vessel about four miles away. We were terribly excited and made great efforts to attract the attention of the ship’s lookout. Summoning our strength, we all leapt up and several climbed on the thwarts to see better and waved anything at hand. We longed desperately for the rockets and flares which should have been in the boat. One man produced a petrol lighter which miraculously still worked, and we tore open a kapok lifejacket and set fire to it in our bucket which was held aloft, the black smoke rising nicely. Someone blew our ‘bos’ns whistle, lips moved in silent prayer and faces were eager, hopeful and one felt that all must now be well. Surely she was turning? No – not yet. “Oh! But she is nearer,” the forward lookout cried, and we all craned our necks and agreed.

Murmurs of “Rescue,” and “They’ve seen us!” “Oh boy, navy rum,” were heard excitedly on all sides, and eyes filled with tears; but our hopes were not realized. She moved on and out of sight, and we sank exhausted, terribly disappointed.

That was a silent day. Towards evening, as the colonel was about to help serve the rations, he spoke to us all. “Listen everyone,” he said. “We have had a big disappointment today, but there’s always tomorrow. The fact that we have seen a ship means that we are near a shipping route and perhaps our luck will turn now. Don’t lose hope because of what happened this morning.”

But when another day passed and we had sighted nothing further, many people did give up hope. I still felt confident that somehow we should be saved. I was often conscious of the power of the prayers of my family and friends. During the time on the lifeboat there was a universal feeling after God and a sense of dependence on Him, and one or other of us used to lead “family prayers” at night. For the last ten days or so this was my privilege, and everyone joined in readily. Sadly, we had no bible, but we had one Gospel of St. John belonging to an RAF sergeant & a prayer book.

It must not be imagined that there was no trouble at all. In circumstances such as these, small things seem important and disputes arise over trifling incidents and quite alarming things were said. No one who has not sat cramped in a small boat with the sun beating mercilessly day after day and tormented by thirst can ever imagine the strain and tension through which these men went. Many of them had spent months and years in places of danger and difficulty, away from homes and families, and had already been through unforgettable experiences in the desert, Greece, Crete or in the Narvik and Mediterranean campaigns.

Doctor Purslow developed a deep infection of his left hand and arm, and of his right foot and leg. I used a razor blade to open his finger, and this discharged well but nothing came from his foot. His glands began to swell and red lines streaked his arm and leg. He felt ill, and we were anxious. His condition did not improve at all and as he became weaker, he relinquished his self-appointed task of handing out the water ration, and he lay day and night, only moving when necessary and scarcely speaking at all. More septic places appeared and it was evident he was suffering from blood poisoning.

One morning, about nineteen weary days after the ship was torpedoed, I heard voices and after a while, realized that one was his, although I could not hear exactly what was being said. I gathered that, realizing that he was a potential source of infection to the rest of us, Doctor Purslow had come to a great decision.

I stumbled to where he was sitting and tried to speak to him, but no words came. He was quite conscious and in a voice stronger than I had heard from him for many days, he said, “As I cannot be of any further help and if I am now a source of danger to you all, it is better that I should go.”

As he heaved himself painfully up the side of the boat, I found my voice and said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

He said goodbye and with a long look, he took that final step backwards. The sea closed over him. We were fortunate in having a following wind almost every night and the sea in our favor, and as we grew weaker, we just sat or lay around with one man at watch on the tiller endeavoring to keep our course. When there was no wind, we felt that out limp yellow sail was an enemy, but when, small as it was, it filled out with wind – it was a friend indeed and we hoped that we made several knots in speed. There were times when a brisk wind lashed the sea into foam and we were tossed vigorously, and it took skill to keep our little boat from capsizing. At those times, we shipped water and were soaked with spray. There were other days and nights when no one had the strength to steer, and when we felt as though we went round in circles.

Towards the end of our third week as sea, when I could no longer eat at all because I was devoid of saliva and depended for life on my water ration, we ran out of water. We had not sufficient for the next day’s ration. We prayed for rain. Next morning, we had a torrential downpour, lasting nearly six hours. We caught it in every conceivable kind of vessel as it ran from the sail, gunwale, thwarts and the mast…..and how we drank! Never had any of us seen or tasted anything so wonderful. We were soaked to the skin and shivering – and we reveled in it. Our dried up bodies took on new strength as we absorbed this life giving water, and drank as we had dreamed of doing for so long. That day I managed to eat two biscuits again, and two or three Horlick’s tablets.

We collected about six gallons of water in our tanks, which we kept. That which had run from the sail was dyed bright yellow, but who cared? The water was rationed as before, but that downpour had saved our lives. Our hearts were full or praise & thanksgiving to our God Who had abundantly met our needs. We thought of those who were no longer with us for by this time, the colonel as well as the doctor and indeed all of our officers had died as had so had many of the men. If only this rain could have come before, so many others might have been saved.

Before sunset the rain ceased and a pale sun came out of an overcast sky. The boat was inches deep in water and there was nothing dry anywhere, so we set to work to get things as dry as possible before night fell, but we had a rather chilly time that night although no more rain came. Several of us had carache. Even that could not depress us now. The Polish cadet-officer and one of our own men however, developed large painful swellings of the parotid gland, making them look as though they had mumps. The Pole soon recovered, but the Englishman’s condition did not improve.

The heat continued and we had no more rain. There was by this time, room for us all to lie down and so by means of articles of clothing suspended from the seats, we made a little shade when the sun was hottest and lay full length at the bottom of the boat.

We noticed an occasional grey gull now, and new birds. Cloudbanks formed on he horizon morning and night, and we wondered if we were nearing land. Then one day we saw a leaf in the water and our hopes rose.

On the morning of Thursday, 8 October one of the British naval ratings sat looking ahead. I was sitting near and saw his face brighten, and he spoke to an airman. They both looked eager, and I asked what the excitement was. He beckoned to me and said, “Sister, can you see anything over there?”

He pointed ahead of us. “Don’t disturb the others in case it’s nothing, but I think I can see a ship.”

I looked and was sure that I could see something, but what that something was, I could not tell. After a little while, we took it to be a destroyer on the horizon. It appeared to come a little nearer and then we saw other shapes, which we took to be ships of a convoy. We watched for half an hour, and then as the ‘ships’ did not move onward, we knew that our prayers were answered and our dreams realized – and that ahead of us was land! Our eyes smarted as we roused the others, sure now that they would not again be disappointed.

Now we began speculating upon how long it would take us to reach land. Some said two days, others said four days and one optimist thought that we should make it there in a day. We wondered where we were and whether the coast was inhabited. We felt sure there would be coconuts, pineapples and citrus fruit even if there were no inhabitants and several of the men promised in their new excitement and enthusiasm, to get me the first coconut. We had an extra water ration that day. It was not tasting very good and we were thankful that land was in sight, but we decided not to be rash in case we could not find a stream at once.

By the end of the day we could make out trees and hills easily. We could see that there was plenty of vegetation, but we could see no signs of habitation. We dropped our sea anchor for the night and longed for morning. We could detect the heavy scent of tropical vegetation, and lightning flashed all night although only distant thunder was heard, a little rain fell.

In the morning we were greeted by an offshore breeze which blew us slowly away from land. We were disappointed as we saw our special hill and palm trees for which we had decided to steer, growing farther and farther away. However, we waited with what patience we could for the wind to change and towards afternoon, an onshore breeze sprang up again. We then made fair progress towards the land. We could still see no houses or buildings of any kind, and no smoke or other sign of human habitation.

Late in the afternoon, when we were about five miles from the shore, we saw a plane. It came towards us and we saw that it was a flying boat with a Union Jack painted on its belly!

We waved and waved, and the plane circled over us. We were seen! It circled again, coming lower and lower still. We lifted our board with “S.O.S. WATER” written on it.

Someone waved from the cockpit and then the plane flew off landwards. We saw them flashing, and then back came the plane, heading for us once more and circled round us again. As it flew very low over us, a life jacket came hurling through the air and struck the water just beside us. It was a superb shot. Attached was a linen bag containing some food but unfortunately, it broke loose and was carried away. One of our airmen, finding strength which no one else could comprehend, climbed over the boat’s side, fell into the water and swan a few strokes. He rescued the life jacket and only an apple, a pear and a banana.

On the life jacket was written: “O.K. Help Coming! You are sixty miles south of Monrovia.”

None of us had any idea where Monrovia was, but we knew what “HELP” was and our hearts sang. On reaching England, I saw an extract from Captain A. G. Store’s voyage report as follows:

9.10.42 At 16.01 we passed over a small craft about five miles off the Liberian coast. Thinking this resembled a ship’s lifeboat, I turned, descending, and inspection confirmed that this evidentially was a boatload of survivors from a sunken vessel. Due to a southwesterly wind, the boat had slight way on her towards the shore. The occupants, some of whom appeared to be women, were evidentially delighted to see us and held up a board on which was chalked ‘S.O.S. WATER’. We circled for some time but could find no container in which water could be dropped, so filled a double pillow slip with fresh fruit and a can of orange juice, also enclosed a waterproof bag containing cigarettes, matches and a note. To this package was tied one of the kapok life jackets. A bombing run was made over the boat and the bundle dropped from the starboard drift sight hatch. It fell near the boat and was picked up immediately by a swimmer.

So far – so good. Let’s see what happens next, in KTB #175.

Comments on this Article

Captain PETER CHELEMEDOS (3619-1994) has been following this article, as we all have, and he wrote this:

“I am following the currently featured article regarding the LACONIA since a friend of mine on the Isle of Man mentioned that when he was serving in the Blue Funnel Line ship MV AJAX in 1942, they were about 500 miles from the incident when they heard Hartenstein’s request for assistance. Unfortunately, the Admiralty diverted them to stay clear of the area. My friend says that although their wireless silence was only broken for a brief four seconds, acknowledging the Admiralty directive, it would appear that U-156 intercepted the signal, falsely believing that assistance was at hand.”

SS Laconia U-Boat Attack From Both Sides [Part 1 KTB 170]
SS Laconia U-Boat Attack From Both Sides [Part 2 KTB 172]
SS Laconia U-Boat Attack From Both Sides [Part 3 KTB 173]
SS Laconia U-Boat Attack From Both Sides [Part 4 KTB 174]
SS Laconia U-Boat Attack From Both Sides [Part 5 KTB 175]
SS Laconia U-Boat Attack From Both Sides [Part 6 KTB 175]