Attacked at Sea

by Michael J. Tougias

  Then, through blurred vision, Ina searched for Lucille. “Where is Lucille? Please tell me she is here!”

  Ray and Sonny were silent. The captain of the vessel had already started motoring the boat toward land.

  * * *

  Just a half hour later, the radio aboard the boat that Ina, Ray, and Sonny were on crackled to life. “Captain, this is the Shellwater. Do you have a Raymond Downs on your boat? Tell him I have his daughter.”

  PART III

  22

  TRIUMPHANT RETURN TO LORIENT

  U-BOAT COMMANDER WÜRDEMANN

  While the Downs family was reunited and tried to reconstruct their lives, Commander Erich Würdemann served his country the best he could. After leaving the Gulf of Mexico, he moved off the U.S. coast on a northeast course, running on the surface with his diesel engines.

  The crew of U-506 thought of home with each passing mile, relieved to be away from the terrible heat and humidity of the Gulf. They knew they were fortunate to have survived the high-risk hunts they conducted in the shallow waters off the Mississippi River. Had they been caught by aircraft or patrol boats, the crew might have had to blow up their own sub using demolition charges to keep it out of enemy hands. Their own fate was secondary: either go down with the U-boat or become a prisoner of war if they survived the sinking.

  Having been successful in the heart of enemy waters for several weeks, they felt both accomplished and a bit lucky. It was likely the crew wanted to head straight to Lorient. They were traveling without torpedoes and expected to be in safe harbor within two weeks. Northeast of the Bahamas, however, lookouts spotted a steamer, and Würdemann ordered a change of course in pursuit.

  This ship, the Yorkmoor, was British, and its crew was more seasoned than those of the American and South American vessels U-506 had previously hunted. These Brits knew exactly what to do when attacked.

  The freighter had just left St. Thomas and was steaming to its discharge port in New York. Captain Thomas Matthews was in the chart room when Würdemann’s first shell struck. Matthews immediately turned the Yorkmoor so that its stern faced where he believed the U-boat had attacked from. This maneuver would make his ship a smaller target—presenting his stern rather than the entire hull to the Germans—but still allow him to fire back.

  The battle was on. Würdemann and U-506 were taking a bit of a risk by fighting it out on the surface with shells rather than torpedoes. If just one of the shells from the Yorkmoor hit U-506 on the surface, chances were the sub would not only lose the battle, but also eventually sink.

  Soon one of the 105-millimeter cannon shells from U-506 penetrated the engine room of the ship. This hit seriously limited the Yorkmoor’s evasive maneuvers. Another shell hit beneath the ship’s gun platform, blasting the primary gunner from his station. Somehow the injured gunner crawled back and continued firing. He directed his aim toward the muzzle flashes in the dark that signaled the location of the Germans.

  On board the Yorkmoor, Captain Matthews was informed that the engine room was flooding fast. The lights had gone out, and the bow was beginning to settle. The Brits were still doggedly manning the deck guns, but they had lost sight of their target in the dark water. The British gunners could only wait, vulnerable and wounded, until the sub resumed shooting so they would know the direction in which to return fire.

  When Würdemann had U-506 at a right angle to the freighter, he ordered a full artillery barrage. One of the German shells pierced the Yorkmoor’s hull, and a tremendous explosion ripped through the night when cold seawater flooded onto the red-hot boilers.

  The duel was over. Matthews ordered his men to abandon ship. Forty-five sailors had to cram into a lifeboat built for 25. The second lifeboat was riddled with shrapnel and useless.

  The sailors, drifting in calm seas over 400 miles from shore, had no prospects of help. But Captain Matthews made two quick decisions that likely saved lives. First, he instructed two men to repair the damaged life raft. Then he and the others began searching the floating debris for anything edible, finding food and fresh water. They stayed at the scene of the disaster for a full day and a half before the battered lifeboat was repaired and able to hold half the crew.

  Six days later, off the coast of South Carolina, the castaways were seen by patrol planes and rescued. Thanks to the cool head of Captain Matthews, all 45 men survived. Their only injuries were severe sunburn, and rescue crews reported that “no one was hungry or thirsty when picked up.”

  * * *

  While in the Bay of Biscay on June 11, U-506 had to crash-dive because of aircraft. An incoming message said what the crew already knew: “Expect increased air danger.” In fact, British attacks on subs near Lorient had become so frequent that Dönitz issued new instructions to U-boats in the Bay of Biscay: Cross the bay submerged both day and night. The subs were allowed only a brief run atop the ocean under cover of darkness to recharge batteries. U-boats in the Bay of Biscay had become a rich focal point for the British Royal Air Force. And soon the planes would be joined by antisubmarine boats, making the bay one of the most dangerous places for a U-boat to pass through.

  U-506 managed to dodge enemy aircraft, and after 71 days at sea, having traveled 11,249 nautical miles, it “made fast at Lorient Berth A1” on June 15. The celebration began for the conquering heroes. A band was waiting, and as U-506 fastened its lines to the concrete pen, the musicians struck up a lively tune.

  Both Würdemann and Schacht were awarded the Iron Cross First Class. More significant than medals was that the two men would be forever known as commanders of the first U-boats that entered the Gulf of Mexico and sank ships near the mouth of the Mississippi.

  23

  MORGAN CITY, LOUISIANA, AND THE HOSPITAL

  “Sonny, get up. The boat’s at the dock.”

  Sonny sat up and rubbed his eyes. Beyond the heavy wooden pilings visible through the porthole next to his berth were buildings and people. Deckhands were throwing heavy coils of lines to tie up the boat.

  It was the scene Sonny should have experienced 24 hours previously, on the Heredia. It took him a moment to realize that the sunburn chafing his legs under the bedsheet, the scratches on his arms, and the growling hunger in his belly meant the shipwreck ordeal hadn’t been just a nightmare.

  “Where’s Lucille, Dad?” Sonny asked. He’d heard she was picked up by another shrimp boat but was anxious to see his family together again. He wanted to know they’d go back to a normal life after his surreal experience drifting on a raft at sea.

  “Now, Sonny,” Ray said, “here are some pants for you. They’re not going to fit, but it’s better than walking around in your undershorts. Just hike them up and hold on, and we’ll see Lucille soon. I have to help your mother now; you go up on deck.”

  Sonny pulled up the light cotton pants and, despite being tall for his age, was nearly swallowed up by the fabric. A T-shirt on the bed was also for him, so he gingerly slid it on over his sunburned arms and shoulders, remembering briefly the way his father had demanded the captain’s coat to protect him from the relentless sun. The memory caused a jolt of fear to shake his body. He put the thought of the barren sea baking in the sunlight out of his mind.

  Sonny moved clumsily toward the companionway that led to the deck. One of the crewmen, a dark-skinned fellow with a crooked smile, greeted Sonny when he reached the deck. Soon more of the men gathered around and laughed and pointed at Sonny’s unusual outfit. One ruffled his hair. Then a shout went up, and the men turned quickly, parting so Ray was able to come up on the deck carrying Ina. She was wrapped in a blanket, her eyes bandaged shut.

  “Mama!” Sonny exclaimed. Ina held out a hand to him. Her skin was still grayish and discolored from the oil, her hair matted and wild. She looked a little scary, Sonny thought, but his heart nearly burst just to see her in his father’s arms. He walked alongside his parents to the gangway. Looking up at the dock, he realized it was lined with police cars and ambulances. An orderly waited beside a gurney
at the end of the ramp.

  The boats had docked right in town, where the Atchafalaya River met Morgan City’s Front Street. Sonny felt a little dazed by the jarring change from rocking boat to hard pavement. A row of buildings across the street offered shopping and restaurants. Behind him a tugboat growled against a barge as it headed up the brown river under a scallop-shaped bridge. More shrimpers were tying up at the dock, discharging sailors wearing partial uniforms and covered by blankets. From one boat a man’s body was grimly passed to people on the dock.

  “Sonny! Mama! Dad!” a high-pitched voice called out to them. Sonny’s head whipped around.

  “Lucille!” Sonny saw his dad’s eyes light up and his mother suddenly looking stronger, a tearful smile spreading across her face. Lucille was a distance away, getting into a car with a tall, dark-haired man who waved enthusiastically.

  Sonny thought about his brother, Terry, wondering if he’d say “shucks” when he heard about the ship getting torpedoed. Sonny wanted to ask if he could telephone Terry to tell him the story, but his dad was busy helping Ina get into an ambulance. Then Ray took Sonny’s hand and led him to another waiting vehicle. Inside were Captain Colburn and Mr. Conyea. Ray hesitated outside the car, looking down at the men.

  The captain wore his soiled white coat and pants, and he still had the binoculars around his neck. His face was a fiery red from sunburn, but he looked rested and composed. Mr. Conyea, in contrast, was exhausted and drawn, wearing a T-shirt and ill-fitting pants that Sonny realized must have been donated by the crew, like his own garments.

  On the brief ride to the hospital, Sonny gazed out the window at the lush greenery of Morgan City, with the graceful gray Spanish moss hanging from trees. Bright flowers screamed at his eyes, which had been numbed by the days of gray-on-blue he’d experienced at sea. He was excited to see cars and trucks and people again, knowing he never had to get on another ship if he didn’t want to.

  * * *

  The small hospital was bustling. Sonny was seated in a hallway outside a sterile examination room. Inside, behind the closed door, his mother and Lucille were alone, quietly talking as Ina waited for a doctor to discuss her recovery.

  Sonny didn’t understand why he had to wait outside, and he fidgeted in his chair, anxious for the door to open. He spent the time watching nurses dressed in white uniforms from head to toe move quickly up and down the hallway. Some of the Heredia sailors shuffled past in oil-soaked clothing, their arms and faces bright pink with sunburn; one still held a life jacket. Nuns in black habits flew past like blackbirds. One nurse leaned close to Sonny, took his temperature and listened to his heart, scribbling notes on a clipboard.

  Sonny heard a familiar voice chirping from the examining room. “That’s my sister, Lucille!” he said. The nurse nodded and smiled. Sonny bolted to the doorway and saw Lucille leaning close to their mother, telling her about waving down the shrimp boat with flags on a long piece of wood. Ina’s eyes were bandaged, but she was smiling, her hand stroking Lucille’s hair.

  The boy burst into the room and hugged Lucille, both of them crying and laughing at the same time, relieved to be together.

  A couple of moments later, Ray stepped into the room, accompanied by a doctor in round spectacles. Ray suggested that the kids go to the cafeteria while he and Ina talked with the doctor.

  A small cafeteria in the basement overflowed with hungry sailors, some sitting in the hallway outside. Their eyes brightened when they saw Sonny and Lucille, but the talk was subdued and smiles were rare. To Sonny, the food seemed endless, with glasses of milk, cups of juice, eggs and toast, grits and fruit salad. His stomach grumbled; he wanted to gobble all of it down.

  “Not too much coffee now, you two,” said a tall man with a mop of curly hair who was sitting at a table.

  “Roy!” Lucille said. “We’re so hungry we don’t know where to begin. Remember what we talked about while we were floating? How we wanted chocolate cake and ice cream sundaes?”

  Sonny recognized the handsome man as the ship’s officer Mr. Sorli. The boy noticed that the sailor’s face was red with sunburn. His arms were laced with grotesque red welts, as if he had been whipped.

  When the children returned to the table with big plates of toast and jam, the sailor laughed. “You must be from Texas, where everything is big,” he joked.

  “When we were on the raft, I found a banana in the water,” Sonny said, remembering how he’d tried to hold on to the piece of green fruit, then lost it, then found it floating by again. He didn’t think he’d ever eat another banana.

  Despite all the people in the cafeteria, the room was hushed. Some of the Heredia crew members were still dressed in ragtag uniforms, tattered and dirty. Others wore borrowed clothing like Sonny’s, mismatched and too big or too small. Sonny looked around at the men who had been so friendly aboard the ship and knew something had changed with the ship’s sinking. Something about sitting there eating felt sad and lonely. Suddenly he wanted to be back with his mother and dad.

  Seeing the sailors triggered something in Sonny, and he fought to hold back tears. He remembered the shouts for help in the night from both crew and passengers, remembered not knowing if he’d ever see his mother again. His eyes welled up, and his lip quivered. “I want to see Mama,” he said quietly. Lucille took his hand and they walked down the hall.

  When they reached the door of Ina’s room, the doctor was gone, but they could hear Ray and Ina talking. Ina was speaking in a soothing voice about things working out, that the Lord had watched over them, but Ray’s voice was stern. “I never should have signed that paper,” he said. “All that work, all our savings, gone with the ship.”

  When Sonny and Lucille entered the room, Ray turned to the window with his hands on his hips. The children noticed that one of Ina’s eyes was now unbandaged.

  “Betty Lucille, come here, I need a look at you,” Ina said, turning her head oddly to see with her good eye. “Sonny, come around this side.” The children crowded onto the edges of Ina’s hospital bed so their mother could wrap her arms around them as Ray stood by quietly. Ina’s left eye had a patch over it, and doctors planned to check it periodically to assess the damage from the ship’s oil that had leaked into the ocean.

  Just then a man interrupted, tapping on the door before he stuck his head in. He wore a crisp tan uniform and carried a clipboard. He wanted to talk to Ray about the ship.

  Before Ray left the room, he told Ina he’d try to make a telephone call to Gainesville so their family would know the four of them were fine before any news about a shipwreck caused alarm.

  Sonny asked his mom what the uniformed man wanted from his father. Ina explained that he was from the navy and was seeking information so other ships would not be torpedoed.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, Ray returned. The children were curious about everything, but neither Ina nor Ray had the answers they sought. Had Mr. Beach survived the attack? How soon would Ina’s eyes be clear? How long would they be at the hospital? How would they get home to Texas?

  The children didn’t know that the same questions gnawed at Ina and Ray. The only question that was easy to answer was when Sonny asked if they would ever see the old family car again, which had been in the cargo hold of the Heredia. Ina smiled and asked Sonny to imagine the old Chevrolet with fish swimming around in it. She said they’d never have to change another tire on it again. That actually seemed funny to Lucille, who was glad to be rid of the old car. It wasn’t so funny to Sonny, however. He made the connection between the sunken ship, the car, and so many other small items they’d left behind when they evacuated.

  “My scooter!” Sonny wailed.

  “Sonny, we can find you another scooter,” Ina said. “What’s important is that we’re safe and sound.”

  “Roy and the other sailors said lots of people died. They’re dead. The torpedoes killed them,” Lucille said.

  Ina explained that some of the sailors they knew had died in the s
hipwreck because they hadn’t made it out of the ship in time or were too badly hurt to survive. It was the children’s first experience with death, and Sonny suddenly understood the quiet cafeteria. He also thought back to his father’s frantic, almost hysterical desire to swim back to the sinking ship to find Ina and Lucille. Sonny realized Ray had known people were dying at that moment.

  Ray, who had been silent until now, took out a bag of clothes and shook out the contents at the foot of the bed. He held up a smock for Lucille and short pants and a shirt for Sonny. These were not new clothes, but they were clean and in the right sizes, which was a welcome change for Sonny, who’d been holding up his oversized pants for hours. Ina told him and Lucille to find a bathtub before they put the clean clothes on, and to be sure to scrub their hair to get all the salt out of it. Then they could go back to the cafeteria for a little more food.

  When the children left the room, Ina took a deep breath. She began to sob. The reality of the situation was sinking in. She felt she’d watched the children age in front of her eyes as they realized that people had died, that they’d never see Sonny’s scooter or their old clothes again. Crewmen who’d played checkers with them the day before were now dead. It was completely out of her control to protect them from this loss of innocence.

  Without saying a word, Ray understood her churning emotions and sat on the bed to embrace her. He told her that her parents in Gainesville had received a reassuring telegram and that United Fruit had been notified and would arrange a meeting.

  “What did the navy man tell you?” she asked.

  “He said we can’t share any details of the sinking yet. He just wanted to know what happened before and after the torpedo hit,” Ray said. “I was asleep before, so I told him as best I could. If only they had let us off the ship in Corpus Christi the other night.”