After the painting was complete, Trentonian was sent into the Irish Sea on an anti-submarine patrol to investigate U-boat activity that had been reported there. After an extended search, the ship returned to Milford Haven without having made any contacts.[21]
On return to harbour, AB Gordon Gibbons returned to the ship after his stay in the hospital. Trentonian once again had its full complement.
The Forty-first Escort Group underwent a few changes. Lunenburg joined the group on February 18, fresh from refit in Canada. Two days later, Trentonian cheered their chummy ship Lindsay as it slipped from Milford Haven for the last time. Lindsay was on its way back to Canada for refit and repairs from its collision with HMS Brilliant, a destroyer.[22]
Trentonian and Lindsay came to the United Kingdom together and the crew knew that their turn to head back to Canada was not far away. Some of the men speculated that the old man had ordered the ship to be painted so they could look their best sailing back into Halifax harbour.
The morning of February 21 brought bad news from home for AB Robert Gray from Toronto, Ontario. His wife had sent a cable dated the eighteenth, “June died very suddenly last night, family very upset. You notify David, letter following, all my love Florence.”[23] Unfortunately for Gray there was not enough time for him to act on the solemn message. Trentonian was preparing to get underway.
Glassco had been called into the FOIC Milford Haven that morning along with the skipper of Moose Jaw. The two skippers were informed that there was an escort job to be done and it only required one escort ship. The FOIC gave the two skippers the choice as to whose ship would do the next job. Both men being gentlemen, they offered their own ship for the duty. After much friendly debate, they decided to “toss a coin,” with the winner going on to escort the convoy. Winning the toss, Glassco returned to Trentonian and gave the order for “harbour stations, prepare to get underway.”[24]
As the men were getting ready to leave Milford Haven, it didn’t take long for word of the old man’s morning activities to spread through the ship. The men grumbled, “the old man might be trying to prove himself, but we have been here all along.” They thought leaving one’s fate to a coin toss was not a good omen.
Steady work pushed the complaints aside. The berthing lines were singled up and the order came to pull in the gangway. Stoker Bruce Keir remembers the new mascot sitting quietly on deck watching the entire procedure. Just as the gangway was to be pulled in, he bolted for it and jumped onto the jetty, and, without a single look back, the dog casually walked away from Trentonian.[25]
Several of the crew who witnessed the event thought the mutt ungrateful; they had fed and taken care of the dog and this is the thanks they got? Some of the more superstitious of the crew looked at each other and said it was too bad they couldn’t join him.
Trentonian departed Milford Haven and joined her convoy in the Bristol Channel at 1730.[26] Convoy BTC 76 consisted of two large liberty ships and twelve smaller coastal trawlers arranged in two columns with the liberty ships leading each. The convoy travelled at a speed of seven knots with Trentonian screening ahead.[27]
The convoy commodore, Commander Greenwood, RNR, was in the first ship in the port column, S.S. Walter Christiansen.[28]
Stoker Les Majoros of Hamilton, Ontario, remembers the mood in the ship began to improve as the rumour that they were going to escort this convoy all the way to Antwerp started to spread through the ship.[29] Bad omens and extra work were quickly forgotten. This would be their first time in Belgium and the men looked forward to getting this convoy to its destination.
15: Lives Forever Changed
The conduct of the Officers and men appears to have been of the highest order.
— Commander R.T. White, DSO, RN, president, Board of Inquiry[1]
The route of the convoy took them along familiar waters. The evening of February 21, 1945, found them along the Cornish coast. By morning, the convoy had rounded Land’s End in a dense fog.
The fog lifted by 1030 and, with visibility improving, the radar set was switched to standby. The ship was at cruising stations, which meant lookouts had been posted, two on the bridge and three in the stern.[2]
Off in the distance they could make out a lone destroyer approaching the convoy. As the distance between Trentonian and the sleek destroyer closed, they were able to identify her as Algonquin, one of the V-class destroyers. Algonquin flashed a signal to Trentonian, “Good Hunting, we are going home for refit.” Glassco acknowledge “God Luck and God’s Speed.”
In Trentonian most of the men were able to read the signal as it was flashed and spelled it out for those that couldn’t. Collectively, they gave Algonquin a cheer; individually, they thought, those bastards, rubbing our noses in it. It will be our turn next.[3]
HMCS Trentonian off Land’s End on February 22, 1945. The crew are standing regular sea keeping stations, lockouts are visible on the bridge and stern, weapons are manned and ready.
Photo courtesy Directorate of Naval History and Heritage.
The English Channel was busy as usual; convoys and escorts were everywhere, moving up and down the coast. The sheer volume of marine traffic posed its own hazards in addition to the enemy. Fortunately, the Channel was calm, with good visibility, from six to ten miles, and winds were light.[4] Trentonian remained in a position three- to four-thousand yards directly ahead of the convoy, steering an irregular zigzag course at ten knots.[5] The radar remained on standby as visibility was good; the asdic operator was performing a continuous sweep from forty degrees starboard to forty degrees port.[6]
The normal daily routine of Trentonian continued uninterrupted. At 1130, the afternoon watch was called for lunch in preparation for going on watch. At 1200, Lt. Abbott, as navigator, took his noonday fix of the sun with the sextant while waiting for the watch to close up. Below decks, the daily issue of grog was carefully measured and issued to the men. As the forenoon watch was relieved, they too went below for lunch and rest. Finally, Lt. Abbott received the report from the outgoing officer-of-the-watch and took over the afternoon watch from Trentonian’s bridge.[7]
Shortly thereafter, at 1220, the convoy was joined by a tug towing a floating crane escorted by Royal Navy motor launch ML600. The tug, crane, and motor launch took up a position at the rear of the starboard column.[8] Below decks, several of the men were trying to get some rest; AB Gordon Gibbons had lain down on the bench in the communications mess,[9] while two of the men in the stokers’ mess had put on boxing gloves for a friendly sparring session.[10]
The calm, sunny afternoon suddenly and violently shattered with the sight of a terrible explosion. The second ship in the port column, SS Alexander Kennedy, exploded at 1320.[11] The men in Trentonian watched in astonishment as a great geyser of water, smoke, and flame rose from the stricken merchant ship’s hull. This was followed a few seconds later by the deafening boom of an explosion and the grinding sound of metal being ripped apart. Every man on deck felt the deep, chest penetrating concussion of the explosion.
Lieutenant Abbott immediately rang actions stations and ordered all watertight doors to be closed and secured.[12] As Alexander Kennedy was on the port side of the convoy, Abbott ordered Trentonian turned to port to search for the submarine on that side. At the same time, the asdic operator in Trentonian reported to the bridge a contact directly ahead of the convoy.[13] Glassco immediately came to the bridge from his sea cabin one deck below and Abbott gave the commanding officer his report.[14]
After taking over from Abbott, the skipper considered the bearing and distance of the torpedoed ship and decided the reported asdic contact was a highly improbable position for a submarine to attack the port side of the convoy. Abbott agreed with Glassco’s analysis. The skipper ordered the turn to port continued, the CAT gear streamed, and speed increased to fourteen knots.[15]
Now relieved, Abbott took up his position as navigating officer in the plotting room off the bridge and fixed the ship’s position for first contact with the en
emy.[16]
Kinsman was in his cabin when action stations sounded. He immediately commenced a quick inspection to ensure the lower decks were cleared and all watertight doors secured. He then proceeded to the boat deck to ensure that communications were set up and the crew were in their proper action stations.[17]
Kinsman then made his way to the bridge. He was met by an officer who informed him that one of the merchant ships had been torpedoed. Once on the bridge he reported ”action stations closed up” to Glassco. Kinsman was apprised of the situation and then, using the PA system, updated the crew: “There has been a merchant ship torpedoed, heads up and keep a sharp lookout!” Kinsman returned to the main deck to ensure the supply parties were closed up.[18]
Every man was in position. The forward gun, two-pounder, and all six oerlikons were manned by the gunners and ammunition supply parties. The depth charge throwers and rails were ready for an immediate attack. Senior members of the crew were at their stations in communications, steering, radar, asdic, plot, and engine and boiler rooms. All other men made up the lookouts, supply parties, damage control and fire-fighting parties, and first aid parties. Every man knew his job and together they had done this many times before.
The men on deck watched as Alexander Kennedy came to a stop and began to settle in the water; the crew was already starting to abandon ship.
Glassco sent a signal to the cmmander-in-chief, Plymouth, “Emergency — ALEC KENNEDY torpedoed, commencing observant.” Included with the signal was the estimated position of the attack.[19]
The skipper then sent a message by visual signal to the convoy commodore in Walter Christiansen asking which side the merchantman had been torpedoed. Commander Greenwood’s reply was brief, “Starboard Side.” Glassco then ordered Trentonian’s course changed so they would pass through the convoy and be able to start a search on the starboard side of the convoy.[20]
Lieutenant Stephen, as anti-submarine control officer, reported to the bridge from his position in the stern that the CAT gear had been streamed and was working properly.[21]
Glassco sent a signal to Commander Greenwood requesting that one of the merchant ships be designated a rescue ship to aid the survivors. Eighteen of Alexander Kennedy’s crew would survive the attack; one man, Lamp Trimmer Alexander Tait, was killed.[22]
Trentonian passed through the port column of the convoy, just astern of the commodore’s ship on Trentonian’s port side and the sinking Alexander Kennedy on its starboard side. Stoker Bill Shields recalls watching the poor merchant sailors in the cold waters of the Channel and saying how glad it wasn’t them.[23]
As Trentonian approached the starboard column, another large explosion was heard directly astern of the ship. Glassco called down to Lt. Stephen in the quarterdeck to identify if the CAT gear had been struck by a torpedo. Stephen replied that it was the boilers of the sinking merchant ship exploding. Alexander Kennedy was now directly astern of Trentonian.[24]
The skipper gave the order, “Stand by to drop one charge from the rails at 150 foot setting.” The men on the quarterdeck readied a single depth charged in an attempt to regain the earlier asdic contact. At the same time, Glassco sent Kinsman to the quarterdeck to drop a DAN buoy to mark the start location of the search.[25]
At full speed, Trentonian passed through the starboard side of the convoy; between the first and second ships in the column. The convoy commodore flashed a signal to Trentonian: there was a disturbance in the water behind the ship. This was thought to be the CAT gear hydroplaning on the water.[26]
Trentonian had just cleared the convoy at 1330 when a violent explosion was felt throughout the ship and they abruptly slewed to starboard.[27] Debris rained down on Trentonian’s bridge, causing Glassco and the men to duck for cover. From his position on the forward four-inch gun, AB Frank Barron recalls hearing the sound of metal crashing down on the gun shield. When they looked, they thought they recognized what was left of the spare CAT gear, normally stored on the quarterdeck, lying on the fo’c’sle.[28]
Trentonian’s engines immediately began to race. The propeller had been ripped from the shaft and the entire ship trembled violently with the bent propeller shaft spinning at high speed.[29]
The surreal scene in the after part of the ship was unlike anything the men had ever experienced. The oerlikon in the waist had been knocked off its mounting; the after oerlikon and mounting were missing, blown completely from the ship; the starboard side depth charge rail was lying on top of the port side rail; the entire quarterdeck had been lifted; twisted metal and destruction lay all about the after starboard side of the ship.
Many of the men were dazed by the force of the explosion, having been thrown to the deck or slammed against the side of the ship. Bodies were lying scattered on Trentonian’s deck. One man was killed instantly by the force of the explosion and, to the horror of the crew, another had been decapitated. A third had lost his arm. Several sailors suffered severe wounds and broken bones, one lay in a heap on the deck, screaming in pain, as the jagged end of the broken bone of his upper leg had pierced through his pants.[30]
Other men had been blown into the water and were floating in their life jackets near the stricken ship, unconscious, while others called to their shipmates for help. Lieutenant Stephen, who had been standing where the torpedo hit, was seen unconscious, floating in the water with the blood streaming from his head staining the sea around him.[31] One of the young sailors had been trapped inside the twisted metal, alive and conscious, screaming to be cut free.[32]
On the bridge, Glassco ordered “stop engines”; Warrant Engineer Hindle in the engine room immediately shut them down.[33] The unbroken hum and subtle vibration that had been a constant for the crew for so many months — the reassurance that their ship was alive, well, and safe — ceased to be. Trentonian’s heart was silenced.
Hindle immediately ordered the three men with him in the engine room to evacuate.[34] Water was coming into the space from behind the after bulkhead, which had been bent into the engine room. He then called the boiler room and instructed the stokers to shut down the boilers and clear out.[35]
Stoker Sydney Coates answered Hindle’s call and in the background he could hear the water rushing into the engine room. He shouted to the other men in the boiler room and told them, “WE’RE SINKING, GET OUT!” Fortunately, their space was not yet flooding; the stokers were able to shut down the boilers and scramble up the ladder to the hatch. Coates remembers when they reached the hatch on the main deck, it was jammed. Through the small porthole they could see that the deck was already awash and knew they faced certain death if they were trapped in the compartment. The three stokers heaved on the handle, afraid it would break. When the hatch suddenly gave way, they were able to force their way onto the open deck. Waist high water swirled around them.[36]
Lieutenant Kinsman was on the ladder to the boat deck when the torpedo struck and knocked him against the side of the ship. Immediately he detailed Engine Room Artificer George Goar from Toronto, Ontario, to locate the engineering officer and get a damage report.[37]
From the bridge, Glassco could see the ship was settling quickly by the stern and ordered the crew to “STAND BY BOATS AND FLOATS!”[38] The skipper felt there was not enough time to send a wireless message, so he ordered the signalman to send a visual message to the convoy commodore requesting him to send a message to Plymoth reporting that Trentonian had been torpedoed. [39]
The crew moved the wounded to the rails while another group desperately attempted to free their young shipmate from the twisted metal of the quarterdeck, even as the stern of the ship quickly sank.
Signalman Jack MacIver recalls one of the depth-charge party started to remove the detonators from the ninety-seven depth charges located on Trentonian’s deck. The rating slowly crawled through the wreckage, trying to reach each three hundred pound canister of explosives. If one of the depth charges remained armed, it would explode while the ship sank, severely wounding or killing any men in the wa
ter.[40]
Once on deck, Warrant Engineer Hindle examined the damage to Trentonian. The engine room was flooding rapidly, and when Hindle moved aft, the chief and petty officers’ mess was already flooded. The hole from the torpedo could not be fixed. The entire after part of the ship was full of water and could not be saved. He sent ERA Goar to the XO with his report.[41]
Kinsman returned to the bridge and reported to Glassco that the flooding could not be stopped, the entire after part of the ship was flooded into the engine room, and once the water passed through to the boiler room, the ship would sink.
Glassco gave the order, “ABANDON SHIP!” at 1334; four minutes had elapsed from the moment the torpedo had slammed into Trentonian’s hull.[42] Kinsman repeated the order over the loud speaker.[43]
This was an order no one had ever expected to hear in Trentonian. They had practised this in Bermuda and in some way always knew it was a possibility, but the reality of hearing that order over the loud speaker was a shock to the entire crew.
That one order set in motion a series of events that were almost automatic for the men. There was no panic, each man knew his job and set about performing his duties.
Lieutenant Abbot gathered the code books and charts and locked them away while others were placed in weighted bags and dumped over the side, ensuring they would sink to the bottom of the Channel. The recognition signals were immediately burned on the bridge.[44]
The wounded men close to the ship’s whaler were placed into the boat; those that could not be moved were secured into their life jackets and lowered over the side. The dead were left where they lay. The men secured the sailor who had lost his arm as best they could into his tattered life jacket and he slid into the water. They watched as his lifeless body floated for a moment and then slipped from the damaged life jacket. He vanished beneath the water.
White Ensign Flying Page 20
