On the quarterdeck the men attempting to free their shipmate from the wreckage were forced to abandon the young sailor. His pleas for rescue silenced as his head disappeared under the water, still trapped, and now entombed.
The men left the ship. Those on the quarterdeck no longer had to jump, with Trentonian sinking by the stern they simply swam off the deck.
The ship’s whaler was lowered into the water and the Carley Floats were cast off. Stoker Bruce Keir remembers he was unable to release the line securing his float, forcing him to abandon ship without one.[45] Stoker Sydney Coates also couldn’t get his to release. With his action station in the boiler room, he was one of the few men that did not have a life jacket on, so releasing his Carley Float was especially important. Just as he had finally given up, one of the gunners came by and tossed him an extra life jacket. Coates put it on and jumped over the side. When he surfaced, the Carley Float that he could not release came crashing down next to him, almost striking him on the head.[46]
On the forward gun deck, AB Gordon Gibbons took off his sea boots and placed them neatly under one of the ammunition lockers, thinking he might be able to retrieve them later, and jumped over the side.[47] The bow of Trentonian had started to rise out of the water; as the men on the stern could walk off the ship, those on the bow were facing a steadily higher jump.
Stoker Les Majoros left his action station near the skipper’s cabin and made his way to the rail. He paused and looked down to the water that was steadily gaining height below him. One of the senior ratings passed by and curtly stated, “What are you waiting for?” and, with a forceful shove, pushed him over the side. Majoros recalls striking the frigid water and sinking deep into the cold. When he finally surfaced, he swam as fast and as far from the sinking ship as he could.[48]
Able Seaman Hayward was beside his friend AB Runtz. As the two men were getting ready to jump from the ship, Hayward looked over and realized Runtz had taken off his shoes — the same shoes they had spent an entire precious day of shore leave trying to find. With several curt words reminding his friend that he was unlikely to find another pair, Runtz put his size twelve shoes back on and the two men jumped into the water.[49]
Just then, another one of those surreal moments occurred. As the men in the water were watching Trentonian’s bow steadily rise, Lt. Dodds stepped up to the rail of the gun deck and, with a single leap, performed a most graceful swan dive.[50] Many of the crew saw this singular athletic feat, forever earning the young officer the admiration of the men and the endearing nick name “Swan Dive” Dodds.[51]
Signalman Jack MacIver had been in the after gun tub when the torpedo hit. The concussion from the explosion under the deck had broken both his ankles and thrown him into the air, gashing his head when he landed. He had crawled over the gun deck railings and lowered himself feet first to the deck with a painful crash. He then made his way to the next railing, lowering himself over the side, hanging above the main deck below him. Knowing the intense pain that was waiting for him as his broken ankles would once again strike the steel deck below, he could not let go. One of his mates seeing his hesitation came over and told him to let go; MacIver could not. His mate, acting in MacIver’s best interest, then stomped on both his hands forcing him to release his grip. Unknown to MacIver, the main deck under him was already below water and he crashed into the sea.[52]
Lieutenant Glassco and Lt. Kinsman were now alone on Trentonian’s bridge. From their position they could see the forward gun deck and fo’c’sle had been cleared as well as the after part of the ship. Trentonian started to list to starboard and the two men made their way down to the boat deck, ensuring that the superstructure was clear and no one remained behind.[53]
Once on the boat deck the two officers were met by the navigating officer, Lt. Abbott.[54] Together they made one final check to ensure that no one alive was still on board. Kinsman then climbed into the whaler and ordered the boat to slip from Trentonian’s starboard side. The boat crew pulled as hard as they could to clear Trentonian, fearing their ship might roll on top of them.[55]
With the boat deck and the base of the funnel now under water, Abbott, followed by Lt. Glassco, still wearing his cap,[56] simply stepped off the port side boat deck of the ship into the frigid water of the English Channel. The skipper was the last man to leave Trentonian.[57]
Trentonian’s bow continued to rise until it was almost vertical. A loud, musical crash came from the ship. The piano, a donation from the citizens of Trenton and played by so many of the crew, broke from its mountings and crashed into the bulkhead inside the ship.
For many of the men in the water, their last sight of Trentonian was seeing it standing upright, the bow towering towards the sky. Chief Petty Officer Roberts was along the hull, in his lifejacket, caught in the suction of the sinking ship. The coxswain would push off from the hull with his legs and swim a few feet before the suction would drag him back against the hull, only to bravely repeat his attempt at escape again and again.
For the men, time seemed to stop as they watched the dreamlike vision of Trentonian’s last moments unfolding before them. They watched as the ship started to slip below the sea, going straight down from vertical, the white ensign still flying.
Trentonian’s pennant numbers slowly disappeared, one at a time, K — 3 — 6 — 8, on the starboard side.
The suction was ultimately too much for Chief Roberts and he disappeared below the water.
A moment later the bow of Trentonian disappeared in a large silent swirl of water. The time was 1340. It had been ten minutes since the torpedo struck.
His Majesty’s Canadian Ship Trentonian was gone.
Artist Henry Winsor’s painting of HMCS Trentonian in its final moments on February 22, 1945.
Painting courtesy of the artist, Henry Winsor.
16: Rescue and the Hunt for U-1004
The behavior of the entire ship’s company was of a very high order and reflects great credit on them and on the discipline of the ship. It is undoubtedly due to this fact that the rescue operations were carried out with such efficiency.
— Lt. C.S. Glassco, RCNVR, Commanding Officer, HMCS Trentonian[1]
Following the sinking, the sea was calm and the silence deafening. The men in the water, the Carley Floats, and in the whaler waited breathlessly. If a single depth charge on Trentonian had not been made safe, the water below them would erupt in a horrendous explosion.
Each depth charge had three hundred pounds of explosive, and Trentonian carried one hundred of them. The crew may have survived the sinking, but many of them could still be killed or seriously wounded.
Seconds after the ship disappeared, a bubble of water erupted from the sea and there was the coxswain. Released from the suction, Chief Roberts had been propelled to the surface by his lifejacket and burst through the water, to the relief of the entire crew. Coughing and sputtering, Roberts made his way to the nearest Carley Float.
Although the English Channel was filled with ships, the men were now alone. The convoy could not stop; there was a German U-boat in the area and any ship that attempted a rescue ran the risk of causing another catastrophe.
The men were on their own; their immediate rescue was their own responsibility. Kinsman and the boat crew started to pick up the wounded and bring them into the whaler.[2] Lieutenant Stephen was one of the first to be brought into the boat. He was still unconscious with a terrible head wound.
Kinsman then gathered the men that had started to drift away and brought them to Carley Floats.[3] The men in the floats started to bring the rafts together to make rescue easier and keep the crew together.
Glassco climbed onto one of the floats. Many of the men reflected that the skipper’s order a few weeks ago had in fact saved many of their lives; no one drowned after the sinking. There were over fourteen men in Trentonian that could not swim.[4]
The ships in the convoys around Trentonian had witnessed the attack and watched Trentonian and Alexander Kennedy sin
k. ML600 came forward from its position at the rear of the convoy and started a search for the submarine. A Royal Navy sloop that was escorting a convoy directly behind BTC 76 raced toward the location to join the search.
The men watched, waiting, hoping they would be quickly avenged. They expected to see the submarine driven to the surface in a concentrated attack, or better yet, destroyed by the horrific underwater explosions of a depth charge attack.
Their attacker had been U-1004, a VIIC-class U-boat fitted with Schnorchel. As part of the Eleventh Flotilla, it had left Bergan, Norway, under the command of Oberleutnant zur See Rudolf Hinz. This was U-1004’s second patrol of the war, having been commissioned into the German Navy on December 16, 1943, fifteen days after Trentonian was commissioned. The attack on BTC 76 was the U-boat’s first successful attack.
U-1004’s skipper, Rudolf Hinz, was born in Berlin on February 22, 1920, and took command of the submarine in January 1945, almost the same time as Glassco took command of Trentonian. U-1004’s skipper and crew had a great deal to celebrate with the attack and sinking of Trentonian and Alexander Kennedy on their skipper’s twenty-fifth birthday. But before any celebrations could begin, the U-boat needed to escape. Hinz ordered U-1004 to dive deep and make its way away from the location of the attack.[5]
On the surface, some of the men started to complain about the time they had recently spent giving Trentonian a new coat of paint. Able Seaman Eric Muff commented on all the rum in the spirit locker going to the fishes.[6] The group of men with Lt. Abbott began to sing,[7] while others commented on what they would do once ashore.[8]
Some of the men were fighting hypothermia. The water they were in was one degree above freezing.[9] Quickly, the survivors began to experience fatigue and confusion; if they were not rescued soon they would face unconsciousness and death.
The RN sloop took over the search for the submarine. ML600 broke off and commenced rescue operations. They arrived at the whaler within twenty minutes of Trentonian sinking. The wounded were the first moved into the motor launch. Lieutenant Stephen’s condition had not changed; unconscious, he was taken gently into the ML.
Lieutenant Kinsman then took the boat and began a search for any crew members in need of immediate assistance while keeping watch for confidential books, charts, or records that may have surfaced.[10]
Within ten minutes of rescue, without regaining consciousness, Lt. Gordon Kent Stephen of Toronto, Ontario, succumbed to his wounds and died in ML600.[11]
The rescue efforts were joined by a second RN motor launch, ML124. It arrived on the scene and started to pick up the men in the Carley Floats. Many had to be physically lifted into the motor launch due to exhaustion and hypothermia.
Lieutenant Kinsman and the boat crew were ordered out of the whaler and into the motor launches and they started towards Falmouth. As a sailor was coiling a line on the stern of ML124, he noticed a feeble arm rising from behind one of the Carley Floats. The ML immediately came about and returned to find AB Gordon Gibbons, tucked behind the float. He had not been seen earlier and, realizing his rescue was about to leave, mustered what little strength he had left and raised his arm for help.[12] Gibbons was lifted into the launch, successfully ending the rescue operations. All of Trentonian’s survivors were out of the freezing water within forty-five minutes of the sinking.[13]
The crews of both ML600 and ML124 were praised by Lt. Glassco for their rescue efforts and the comforts they provided to the Trentonian’s.[14] Dry, warm blankets were provided along with hot beverages. Able Seaman George Hayward remembers everyone having a few good slugs of rum and scotch that were passed around by the crew of the ML.[15]
The search operations continued, though the RN sloop had not made contact with the submarine. Plymouth Command ordered the Canadian groups EG 6 and EG 26 to the area to start a concentrated search for the submarine under command of an RN frigate HMS Duckworth.[16]
En route to Falmouth, the officers started to do a head count of Trentonian’s crew. There had been 101 crew members in the ship. They knew several had been killed and many wounded. Between the two motor launches, there were ninety-five men alive, with thirteen wounded, two seriously.[17] This included six officers and eighty-nine men.[18]
The body of Lt. Stephen was in ML600 ; this left five men missing. Between the members of the crew they were able to account for all the missing men, as they had witnessed the fate of each.
Many had witnessed the three men killed by the torpedo’s explosion. These were AB Beck from Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, and, AB Catherine and LS Fournier, both from Windsor, Ontario. Their torn and shattered bodies had lain on Trentonian’s deck while the others evacuated.
Others witnessed the loss of LS Harvey from Sydney, Nova Scotia, whose lifeless body slipped from his lifejacket and disappeared into the water. Most of the crew had heard the pleas of young Stoker McCormick from Belleville, Ontario, trapped in the wreckage on the quarterdeck.[19]
Because their bodies were not recovered, those five men would have to be classed as missing-in-action. Despite the official designation, the survivors from Trentonian knew six of their shipmates had been killed.
The motor launches arrived at Falmouth. Medical staff and ambulances waited on the jetty to treat the wounded and transfer them to the hospital. Some of the wounds were horrendous. Stoker Sidney Atkinson from Vancouver, British Colombia, had serious trauma to his head, with extensive lacerations, and had lost an eye.[20] Petty Officer Edwin Thorogood of Brantford, Ontario, had a serious compound fracture of his upper leg and a fractured arm.[21] Both men were admitted to the Royal Cornwall Infirmary at Truro.[22]
Eleven men were admitted to sick quarters at Falmouth with various degrees of injuries: Coder Peter Meyer (minor burns and a dislocated knee); Steward George Guthrie; AB Odell Hanson; Signalman Jack MacIver (two broken ankles and lacerations to his head); AB Lewis Karns; Stoker William Baril (large laceration above the eye and a sprained ankle); AB Lawrence Brako of Minnedosa; Telegrapher Vince Hadley (two lost teeth and lacerations to the face); Assistant Cook Lewis Murphy; and AB James Rickard of Port Arthur, ON.[23]
The remaining men were taken to the Royal Navy barracks, where they were able to wash and get clean. Their clothes had to be discarded, as they were covered in oil, dirt, and grime. Replacement clothing was provided by the Royal Navy. Generally, the clothes consisted of whatever was at hand — no two men looked alike and there was a choice of two sizes, too big or too small. The men were given an assortment of coveralls and fleece survival suits; the truly unlucky ones wore hospital blue — hospital dress could cause a sailor to be refused a drink at the local pub.[24]
Four of the men did retain articles of clothing: PO Ray Lounsbury and PO Bernard Roden had kept their life jackets and had no intentions of giving them up; Lt. Glassco was still wearing the salt water-soaked cap that remained on his head as he stepped off Trentonian’s deck; and AB Weldon Runtz had his size twelve shoes, now turning concrete as the salt crystallized in the leather.[25] The remainder of the crew were given size seven running shoes. Several men had to cut out the toes just to be able to get the shoes on their feet.[26]
Despite the state of their clothing, after a hot meal several of the men managed to go into Falmouth for a visit to the local pubs. The only personal effects the men had was what had been in their pockets at the time of abandoning ship. As a result, most men had no money. AB Harold Salmon recalls a young lady insisting on giving him money to buy a beer and later running into the RN sailor who had pulled him into the motor launch.[27]
Petty Officer Ray Lounsbury (right) and Petty Officer Bernard Roden, both of Vancouver, British Columbia, demonstrate the RCN-issue life jackets that saved their lives.
Photo courtesy of the Family of Maurice Campbell.
EG 6 and EG 26 continued the search for U-1004 during the afternoon. Calgary had a brief contact with a submarine in the evening, possibly U-1004, but was unable to press home a successful attack. The hunt for the German submarine
continued through the night.[28]
The morning of February 23, 1945, arrived with no changes for the wounded; everyone would survive their wounds. Thorogood and Atkinson, however, required many months of hospitalization.
Plymouth Command called off the search for the enemy submarine during the morning. The same difficult asdic conditions in the English Channel that allowed the German submarine to press home the attack also allowed the U-boat to escape.[29]
Documents recovered after the war credit U-1004 with attacking convoy BTC 76 and sinking Trentonian and Alexander Kennedy. Oberleutnant zur See Rudolf Hinz was decorated with the German Cross in Gold for his successful attack. U-1004 had no other successes and was surrendered at Bergen, Norway, to the Royal Navy on May 9, 1945, and was sunk by gunfire on December 1, 1945 as part of Operation Deadlight.
Lt. Glassco submitted this sketch of the movements of Trentonian and convoy BTC 76 as part of his report.
Photo credit: Roger Litwiller, Department of National Defence, Directorate of History and Heritage, 81/520/8000, box 105, File 5 — HMCS Trentonian.
Following the loss of the ship, a multitude of paperwork began, starting with notification to the respective authorities. A signal had already been sent from the scene of the tragedy to Plymouth Command. Plymouth then notified the Canadian Naval Mission in London who then notified the government with the following letter, addressed February 23:
S E C R E T
I very much regret to inform you that HMCS TRENTONIAN was torpedoed and sunk during the early afternoon of the 22nd February, 1945, off Falmouth, Cornwall.
There were 95 survivors of whom two are seriously injured, 11 slightly injured, one officer was killed and five ratings are missing presumed killed.
This information has not been made public.[30]
As the letter indicates, news of Trentonian’s loss was not made public right away. If the news of the successful attack were broadcast to the public immediately after the incident, the German Naval Authorities would know that their attack had been successful and that their submarine was being searched for. It would be over a month before news of Trentonian’s loss was publically announced.
White Ensign Flying Page 21
