Attacked at Sea

by Michael J. Tougias

  “Captain,” Ray asked, “any new activity around here in the water?”

  Colburn raised his eyebrows and turned a little to face the railing, perhaps hoping the children wouldn’t be scared by what he had to say. “We get bulletins, Mr. Downs. We study them to ensure that the crew is aware of the latest safety precautions. But with submarines, yesterday’s news doesn’t matter much in today’s waters, if you know what I mean.”

  “So they could be anywhere?” asked Ina.

  “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Downs. Anywhere,” the captain answered.

  “But we’re through the worst part, aren’t we?” Ray pressed the captain. “There should be antisub planes patrolling.”

  “Yes, Mr. Downs,” the captain answered. “Every day brings us a little closer to complete safety. Until we’re at the dock, we rely on these fine seamen to keep watch.”

  “And prayers to the Lord above,” added Ina.

  When the captain left, Sonny wanted to know more, but his dad just put one arm around him and the other around Ina. They looked out at the darkening sea.

  “Two more days,” Ina murmured. “Two more days and we’ll be home safe.”

  * * *

  That evening, May 16, the family elected not to sleep on the deck because the seas were building. The Heredia swayed from side to side in a stiffening wind. Ina worried that the kids might roll right off the deck chairs. Clouds had moved in, making a beautiful sunset but perhaps a rainy night. Better to be in their cabins below, where the ship’s rocking would not be as pronounced.

  Ina’s decision was a good one. Several times she was awakened with a jolt during the night when a wave bigger than those that had preceded it rocked the Heredia. At dawn, the family climbed the mahogany stairs to the deck and were greeted by howling wind, driving rain, and waves cresting at 25 feet. The Downses huddled together and watched wind-whipped spray lash the ship while plumes of foam streaked by. The air temperature had dropped to 65 degrees, making them cold after their time in South America. Surprisingly, none of the family was seasick.

  At breakfast the conversation was about how quickly the storm had a risen and the inaccuracy of weather forecasting. Part of the reason for the absence of a storm warning had to do with the war. Weather advisories had to be censored and cleared through the Weather Bureau Office in New Orleans, causing delays in the release of forecasts. In addition, the Weather Bureau relied on observation reports from ships scattered over hundreds of miles, but because of the presence of U-boats, the ships were under orders not to transmit radio messages, even about the weather. (In July of the following year, these factors caused a lack of preparedness when the “Surprise Hurricane of ’43” careened into the Gulf, killing 19 people.)

  * * *

  Later that day, the lumbering waves subsided to 15 to 20 feet, but the ship still rolled heavily in the turbulent seas. From a passageway, Sonny and Ray watched whenever a crew member crossed the deck wearing a safety harness clipped to a cable. The Heredia sailors seemed right at home walking through the blasting wind and pelting rain.

  Most of the U.S. Navy Armed Guardsmen aboard ships in 1942 were from 18 to 25 years old, and some were as young as 16. Many had enlisted in the navy wanting to serve aboard a fighting ship, such as a destroyer or an aircraft carrier, hoping to strike back at Japan for attacking Pearl Harbor. Instead, after boot camp, a handful were selected to serve aboard merchant ships—a less glamorous job in the minds of most. After a hasty three weeks of training to use the deck guns, the men were assigned to ships. While they may have longed for offensive action aboard destroyers, being in the Navy Armed Guard was by no means a safe or easy position. During World War II, 1,810 of these young men were killed or went missing.

  * * *

  “Can I go out on the deck, like the sailors?” asked Sonny. “I’ll wear a harness.”

  Ray thought for a moment and surprised Sonny by saying, “If your mother says it’s okay and I can find a sailor to go with you, I don’t see why not.”

  Sonny didn’t give his father a chance to change his mind. The boy raced below to find his mother.

  Ina could see the excitement in Sonny’s eyes as he described what he wanted to do. She knew the trip was near its end. Sonny would have a story he could tell over and over. “Let’s go up to where your father is—I want to talk to him. If he thinks it is safe and you are right next to a sailor, I think it would be okay.”

  Sonny could not believe his good fortune. He grabbed his mother’s hand, and together they joined Ray at the passageway. Ray had already recruited a sailor for the job. After they explained to Ina how safe it would be, she agreed.

  The sailor fastened a harness on Sonny and then clipped him to the cable that ran to the bow of the ship. He did the same for himself. Together they stepped out into the driving rain and began slowly walking toward the bow.

  Ina had second thoughts when she saw Sonny hunched over, struggling against the whipping wind and rain. She worried one strong gust might lift her boy into the air like a kite. But Sonny and the sailor safely reached the bow, and when they turned around, Sonny waved at her. Ina took a half step toward him, thinking that he was crying. Then she realized it was laughter coming from her son’s mouth. He was having a ball. When he came back, Ina scooped him into her arms.

  “Can I go again?” Sonny shouted, rubbing the burning salt spray from his eyes.

  Ina laughed and shook her head. “Once is enough. You’ve got quite a story to tell Terry when you get home.”

  * * *

  By the next day the air had become still and sticky. Around noon, a crew member reported seeing something unusual in the ocean, far off the stern. This caused quite a commotion, and the passengers and crew alike scanned the sea, wondering if the sighting could have been of a U-boat. The men of the Navy Armed Guard did the same, using their binoculars. Although there were no further sightings, Captain Colburn changed course for the closest harbor, which was Corpus Christi, Texas. Once there, the captain would go ashore for information, including whether the ship should stay in Corpus Christi Bay for the night.

  Ina and Ray welcomed the change of course. Not only were they worried about the U-boat danger, but they were also ready to move on with the next phase of their life. Corpus Christi was closer to home than New Orleans was. They asked Captain Colburn if they could leave the ship there.

  Upon reaching the outside of the bay, Heredia’s anchor was lowered. Captain Colburn was taken ashore in a pilot boat.

  The entire Downs family stood at the rail and watched the captain leave, hoping he’d return with good news. They also noted that the bay was full of anchored ships. It was May 18, and they could actually see the shore of their home country for the first time in a year.

  Ray was becoming edgy from sitting still, and Ina wanted to get off the ship. Sonny could hear his parents talking, already making plans for reuniting with Terry and searching for a place to live. Lucille, too, was ready to be back on land and to see her brother and grandparents. Only Sonny was sad to see the voyage come to an end. He was hoping for one last storm so he could go back out on deck with the harness and cable to enjoy the wind and plumes of spray.

  Captain Colburn returned in an hour, climbing the Jacob’s ladder back onto the boat and wearing a serious expression. The Downs family and a couple of other passengers waited expectantly by the rail.

  “Sorry, folks,” said the captain when he was on the deck. “They won’t let you off here. There’s too much paperwork and not enough time to get the necessary permission. But the officials say we should be fine steaming on toward New Orleans tonight.” Then he surprised the passengers by passing out magazines and cigarettes to the adults and candy to the children.

  “Was it a U-boat out there?” Ray asked. “Did the harbormaster tell you if others have seen it? Why are so many ships anchored in the bay?”

  “Mr. Downs, due to wartime restrictions, including radio silence, there is little communication between ships and shore until
a ship arrives in port,” said the captain. He wore a stern expression and seemed exhausted by the trip ashore.

  “I really want my family to get off the boat here, Captain,” Ray said.

  “We’re uncomfortable going back out to sea,” added Ina. “What about our children?”

  “I’m terribly sorry,” the captain said. “We cannot let you off here. Harbormaster’s orders. I wish we could. I would not worry too much about something somebody might have seen hours ago. As I said before, if there’s a submarine out there—and I said if—it could be anywhere. It’s a big ocean, and there are a lot of boats in it. Chances are we’ll be in New Orleans safely in no time.”

  “Looks like most of the boats are at anchor here, Captain,” Ray pointed out, motioning toward the crowded bay. “They’re safely in the harbor.”

  * * *

  A half hour later, the Heredia was plowing east toward New Orleans. The magazines did little to lift Ina’s mood. She watched the coast of Texas disappear with sadness.

  A spectacular sunset with streaks of gold—the best of the voyage—briefly occupied Ina’s attention. But after the sun dipped below the horizon and dusk darkened the ocean, she returned to brooding about U-boats. If only we could have left the ship in Corpus Christi …

  That evening the captain ordered no lights be used on the Heredia. Small flashlights were allowed when passengers or sailors moved around. The Navy Armed Guards were at their lookout stations, enjoying the slight breeze but having difficulty seeing through a haze that hung over the ocean. Two of them were at the aft gun, two more in the forecastle, and a fifth on the bridge. The sixth serviceman was resting below.

  The members of the Downs family were sitting together on deck chairs, quietly enjoying the cooler temperatures of the evening. They watched phosphorescence glimmer in the wake of the ship and talked in hushed voices. Sonny enjoyed the constant whooshing sound the ship made as it cut through the ocean. It looked like a beautiful moonlit night was in store.

  A fellow passenger, Robert Beach, paced the deck nearby. Ina said, “Good evening, Mr. Beach.”

  Beach turned to Ina and gave a curt nod.

  Ina saw the worried look on his face and said, “We’ll be in port first thing in the morning.”

  “Not soon enough,” said Beach as he walked away.

  Sonny looked at his mother and asked, “Is he always so mean?”

  Ina replied, “He’s just anxious to get home. He’s been in South America for three years.” She didn’t tell Sonny that Mr. Beach was especially nervous because he had spent a good deal of his income buying expensive jewelry in Panama. Beach was worried about not only his own welfare, but also the potential loss of his investment.

  Sonny watched Mr. Beach scuttle away into the shadows. The boy switched subjects: “Can Lucille and I sleep on deck tonight?”

  “Not tonight,” answered Ray. “It’s our last night. We’ve got to get our things organized, so we’ll sleep in our staterooms.”

  Sonny knew better than to ask again, so he made a different request. “Because it’s the last night, can you sleep in my room and Lucille can sleep with Mom?”

  “Okay,” said Ray.

  “And can I sleep in my shorts, just like you?”

  “Sure.”

  Sonny grinned, glad for one last night out of the ordinary.

  A few minutes later, Captain Colburn, in his dress whites, strolled up and said good evening. The captain tousled Sonny’s hair and said, “Well, young Downs, by six thirty in the morning we’ll be docking in New Orleans.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Sonny, “my dad told me. He and I are going to sleep in the same room for our last night.”

  Captain Colburn forced a smile. Ray stood up, and he and the captain moved out of earshot of the family. “Any more news about U-boats?” asked Ray.

  “No, sir. We should be fine.”

  “How about news about the war?”

  If the captain had gotten an update on the war and enemy action in the Gulf, he did not share it with the Downs family. Colburn shook his head. “Didn’t have time to even ask when I was ashore. Guess we’ll both learn more tomorrow morning when we are in New Orleans.”

  9

  AN UNEASY FEELING

  While Captain Colburn continued on his rounds, Ray wondered what was going on with the war. Several times during the voyage, he had asked the Heredia’s radioman what he’d heard. The man’s vague response was “nothing new.”

  In fact, a lot had happened during the week the Downs family was at sea. Much of the war news revolved around battles for oil fields abroad and the oil and gasoline shortages at home.

  On the home front, U-boat attacks were interrupting the delivery of fuel, which was already in short supply due to military needs. Gasoline rationing began, and civilians were limited to three gallons of gasoline a week in many states. Despite this crisis, the New Orleans Times-Picayune reported that people were still unwilling to turn off outside lights at night, effectively helping U-boats find and sink ships.

  Times-Picayune reports of ships torpedoed in the Gulf and the Caribbean Sea were becoming a daily occurrence. In fact, the Downses were quite lucky to have escaped unscathed when Heredia steamed through the Yucatán Channel, between the western end of Cuba and Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula. That was where a German U-boat sank seven ships in a two-week period, both before and after the Heredia somehow slipped through unharmed!

  All the while, Ina and Ray were unaware of the toll U-boats were taking.

  The Heredia had been lucky indeed, because defenses against U-boats in the Gulf of Mexico were even weaker than on the East Coast. By May 1942, ships on the East Coast were finally being protected by armed escorts; in the Gulf, however, ships were still traveling alone. There, the navy had only a couple of old destroyers, five cutters, an assortment of smaller craft, and 35 aircraft. That small force had difficulty finding a U-boat in the daytime in this nearly 618,000-square-mile area. It was almost impossible to locate one after sundown. Even when a U-boat was on the surface in daylight, inexperienced U.S. sailors and pilots sometimes overlooked it. U-boat crews were astounded when aircraft flew directly over them and nothing happened, or when patrol boats motored nearby without noticing the subs.

  To compensate for the lack of armed ships to escort freighters, large civilian yachts were purchased by the military and converted to patrol boats. These vessels were equipped with depth charges and at least one .50-caliber machine gun. Coast Guard personnel usually operated these armed vessels, which rarely fought the enemy but were effective at patrolling and rescuing.

  The navy and coast guard also reached out to commercial fishing vessels and civilian yacht clubs. Volunteers on small craft assisted the military with offshore observation; they would at least make it difficult for U-boats to surface and recharge their batteries. Even sailboat skippers volunteered, pointing out that sailors could climb the rigging to spot a U-boat or its periscope. The coast guard called them the “Corsair Fleet” and used them in the Coastal Picket Patrol, but the public called them the “Hooligan Navy.”

  Other experiments also held promise, such as using blimps to hover over merchant ships. The helium-filled blimps could cruise along at 50 miles an hour and watch over a wide swath of sea. They were armed with depth charges, but the airships were not easy to steer or quick to turn, making it difficult to get into position over a U-boat before it dived. The blimps’ real value was in discouraging submarines from surfacing. Consolidated Aircraft’s PBY Catalina flying boats were also used successfully as “protecting eyes” over merchant ships. Because they could land on and take off from the water, they were especially useful in search and rescue.

  These various resources became increasingly effective in the second half of 1942. But in May 1942, when the Heredia was inching closer to safe port in New Orleans, effective defenses were limited. The first U-boat captains in the Gulf of Mexico, Schacht and Würdemann, enjoyed the element of surprise.

  * * *


  After Ray’s conversation with Captain Colburn inquiring about the latest war news, the Downs family retired to their berths at 9:00 P.M. Sonny, thrilled to be sleeping with his father, climbed up to the top bunk while his father lay in the bottom bunk. Each of them checked that their life jackets—made of gray canvas covering balsa wood strands—were hanging on a peg within reach of their bunks. They talked for a couple of minutes, but soon both were fast asleep. In the next room, which was separated from Sonny’s by the bathroom, Lucille had also fallen asleep, but not Ina. She simply could not shake a strong feeling of dread, and she tried in vain to let the ship’s rocking calm her.

  While Ina lay awake in her berth, the Heredia steamed eastward at 12 knots. She realized they had stopped zigzagging and were simply plowing into the night, and she hoped it was a good sign. Perhaps the captain had been told that evasive maneuvers were unnecessary because there were no submarines nearby. Still, she couldn’t sleep.

  The old ship was approximately 40 miles south-southwest of New Orleans, just a few miles from the Ship Shoal buoy.

  * * *

  While the Downs family spent their last afternoon and evening aboard the Heredia, Erich Würdemann maneuvered U-506 farther out into the Gulf and away from the Mississippi. He and his men had a dangerous job to perform: moving torpedoes from the deck down into the firing tubes. To do this, the U-boat had to remain on the surface, making it a target for any aircraft flying overhead. Using cables, a winch, pulleys, and considerable manpower, the crew wrestled the first 23-foot-long, 3,600-pound weapon from its deck housing and slowly lowered it on a rail through an open hatch into a torpedo tube. Then the process was repeated with the other deck torpedo as crewmen anxiously kept an eye on the sky, hoping no planes would appear.