Attacked at Sea

by Michael J. Tougias

  “I wasn’t asleep,” Ina said. “Before the explosion I couldn’t sleep. I had the most awful feeling, Ray, like I knew something was going to happen.”

  “We were the lucky ones, Ina,” Ray said. “Our whole family made it. All of us. There were sixty-two people on board that ship, and so far they’ve found just twenty-seven alive. A few who were badly injured got picked up by that seaplane and taken to another hospital. Mr. Beach wasn’t found. I can’t believe he went back to his cabin when they were telling us to evacuate. A few sailors may still be out there, but the navy doesn’t think they’ll pick up any more survivors.”

  Ray then announced that his decision to join the military was firm and nothing could change his mind. He explained that he’d seen the dead bodies in a room at the hospital, and witnessed the efforts to identify them. He had to get revenge.

  24

  RECOVERY

  A woman knocked on the door of Ina’s hospital room.

  Ray was with his wife and he recognized the visitor, saying, “Mrs. Guidry, come in. Ina, this is Louise Guidry, who lives nearby and has offered to help.”

  The woman was petite and olive-skinned, with dark hair and bright eyes. She explained that the hospital was so overwhelmed by injured Heredia survivors that most of the other patients had been sent home to make room for them. She added that she and others from Morgan City had brought the sailors extra clothing from their families and were making food, too.

  “We were so surprised to hear there was a family aboard,” Louise cooed in her musical drawl. She said she would be happy to take the children during the day so Ina and Ray could rest. Then, noticing Ina’s matted hair, the woman said she had something that would get the oil out.

  Within an hour, Louise was hovering over Ina with tubs of shampoo, scrubbing and rinsing the sticky oil from her hair as the women chatted about their families, and a lasting friendship was formed. Louise had a granddaughter whose dresses fit Lucille perfectly, and she was able to find Ray, Sonny, and Ina an extra change of clothes for their eventual trip home to Texas.

  Ina confided to Louise her worries about Ray’s appointment to discuss their lost savings with the United Fruit lawyers. Their money had been locked securely in the ship’s safe when the Heredia sank to the bottom. Ray had signed a waiver of liability when they boarded the Heredia, acknowledging that the ship’s safe passage was not guaranteed and releasing the company from responsibility for loss of life or possessions. But when they’d boarded the ship under the Costa Rican sun, the possibility of falling prey to a torpedo attack had seemed as remote as thoughts of winter.

  The family was now penniless; they were relying on the kindness of strangers for even the most basic necessities, such as clothing. Although Ina didn’t specify to Louise the amount that had been lost, it had been an entire year’s pay. That was the family’s nest egg and prospect for a future home. They were starting from scratch again.

  * * *

  Four days after the rescue, the U.S. Navy ensign who had been in Morgan City to take survivors’ statements allowed a newspaper reporter to visit the hospital. As soon as the reporter saw the Downs family, he knew he had struck gold for the front page: Sonny and Lucille were dimpled and smiling, Ray a hulking protector.

  The story of the family’s survival and photos of them smiling from the hospital room raced through papers in the region that were hungry for positive news. When interviewed separately, everyone from the Heredia praised Lucille and Sonny for their behavior during the ordeal. Ray and Ina were quick to publicly credit Roy Sorli with Lucille’s safe return.

  Underscoring the Downses’ incredible night at sea and improbable reunion were the names and addresses of many Louisiana natives from the Heredia who had not made it home alive.

  * * *

  In Fort Worth, Texas, Ina’s brother J. R. Evans picked up the Sunday paper six days after the torpedoing of the Heredia to find a familiar family smiling back at him. He sent a telegram to the hospital that read: “All of us are thinking of you every minute. When ready I will come after you if need be. If we can do anything let us know. Let us hear as soon as possible. Love JR.”

  Ina’s father, John Evans, also saw the picture, and things started to make sense to him. He had been confused by a telegram he’d received a few days earlier that said the family was simply spending a week in a Morgan City hotel before returning to see Terry. The newspaper photo sent a shock wave through his body, and he immediately resolved to hear Ina’s voice to get to the bottom of it. He telephoned the Morgan City hospital but was only allowed to speak to Ray after the navy ensign assigned to controlling the release of information had confirmed his identity. Mr. Evans was warned of repercussions if any secret details of the attack were discussed. The navy was still trying to squelch rumors and control information about U-boat activity despite civilian involvement.

  Ray assured his father-in-law that he and the children were fine and that Ina’s eye treatments were progressing well. Sight was being restored to her right eye, although she was still seeing double, and her left eye remained blinded by the oil and was of concern to the doctors. Ina’s treatment included rest and rinses several times a day.

  When Roy Sorli was allowed to call his fiancée, Heddy, in a Boston suburb, his delivery of the news was subtle. He didn’t want to alarm her. “Well,” he said, “I seem to have lost my boat.” She never allowed him to go to sea again.

  On Monday, May 25, a photo of the Downses was front and center in the New Orleans Times-Picayune. The children were smiling on either side of Ina, who had one eye bandaged, and Ray was behind them, his arms draped protectively around his family. The perky family photo offset other headlines on the page that blared war news: a successful Russian counteroffensive against the Germans, the possible sinking of a U.S. warship by an Italian submarine off Brazil, a Japanese plane smashing into an American ship.

  Lucille’s story about sharks tickling her feet caught the imaginations of many editors, who played up the peculiar anecdote in one newspaper after another. But the tale brought sadness to many households whose family members didn’t have happy stories to tell. Ina received several letters sent to her in care of the Morgan City hospital by wives and mothers of the dead.

  Mr. Beach’s wife wrote to Ina and asked about her husband’s last days.

  “What do I tell her?” Ina asked Ray. “Should I say we told him not to go back to his cabin when the ship was sinking?”

  Ray had no response. His mind was on the year’s worth of savings that had sunk with the boat. The meetings with United Fruit were not promising; it seemed unlikely that the family would receive any compensation for their losses.

  Soon another letter arrived at the hospital, addressed to Ina. It was from the mother of Frankie Platts, the very young member of the Navy Armed Guard, who hadn’t seemed much older than the Downs children. The woman wrote that her husband was dead and her son was all she had left. The son had begged his mother to sign his papers to allow him to join the navy before he turned 18.

  Despite her own shock and efforts to regain a little strength each day, Ina found the words to comfort the bereaved women. To Mrs. Beach she wrote, “You were in his thoughts to the very end,” a kind way of acknowledging that he probably had returned to his cabin to retrieve the treasures he’d bought for his family.

  For the distraught mother of the Navy Armed Guard Frankie Platts, she summoned a sunny image, writing, “Your son was wonderful to my children. He was a happy young man who played shuffleboard with them on deck when he was off-duty and never missed an opportunity to smile and pass the time. We’ve been told he did not suffer at the end but was unfortunately standing duty on a part of the ship that took a direct hit. I hope you find some comfort knowing that he brought happiness to others right up to the very end.” In truth, Ina did not know how the boy had died. She even wondered if he’d been the young sailor holding on to the plank whose modesty about being naked in front of Ina had made him stay in the water.
Ina couldn’t be sure, because her vision had been so blurred by oil at that time.

  Ina also wrote to Roy Sorli’s fiancée to ensure that she knew how much the Downs family appreciated his caring for Lucille through the horrible ordeal. Lucille’s stories about his humor and kindness, of allowing her to float atop the wreckage while he was stung by jellyfish and threatened by sharks for many hours, touched them deeply.

  * * *

  The Downses’ mix of shock and elation receded after two weeks in the hospital. Sonny and Lucille were well fed and entertained by Louise Guidry, allowing Ina to rest and recover. The duo knew the route to Louise’s house. They walked there eagerly each time they were invited to sample some of her fragrant dinners of étouffée and “snacks” of po’ boy sandwiches on crusty bread.

  Mrs. Guidry warned the kids about getting lost in Morgan City. She said it was bayou country, where the legendary Rougarou, a werewolf-like creature, roamed, looking for its next victims. Then she’d laugh and hug them close like they were her own children, sending them back to Ina and Ray with a sack of extra food.

  Soon it was time for the family to move forward again. Ray and Ina had to reassemble their life, beginning with a train ride back to San Antonio and then to Gainesville to get Terry. They left the hospital with only the clothes they were wearing and the generous charity of the people from Morgan City. They bade an appreciative goodbye to the hospital staff and Louise, promising to write when they got to Texas. But Ray still had the U-boats on his mind, and Texas wouldn’t be their last stop.

  25

  A FAMILY’S RESILIENCE

  When Ina’s treatment at the Morgan City hospital was complete, she still couldn’t see out of her left eye, but the doctors had done all they could. The family returned to San Antonio with only a new set of clothes and train tickets. It was the only compensation they’d received from Ray’s employer, United Fruit Company. All their possessions and savings had gone to the bottom of the Gulf with the Heredia.

  Despite Ray’s several meetings with company representatives regarding compensation, they would not budge. He had signed a waiver releasing United Fruit from responsibility when he and his family had boarded the ship, and the company held him to it. The Downses had to be content with having escaped with their lives. They would have to try to rebuild their savings and replace the possessions that were lost.

  Ray’s resolve to join the service and do his part fighting the foes of the United States was stronger than ever. Once his family was safely back on land, he immediately sought to enlist in the Marine Corps. Despite his vigor and excellent physical condition, his age was a factor. At 37, he was too old for the marines.

  But the coast guard needed as many men as possible. A major concern was that U-boats could be transporting spies and saboteurs to the United States. The few ships the coast guard had couldn’t cover a thousand miles of coastline. Shore patrols were instituted, adding thousands of civilians with dogs and on horseback, ensuring nearly constant surveillance.

  In June, the navy asked owners of small working boats and pleasure craft to assist with the coast guard’s near-shore patrols. While 1,200 boat owners had already enlisted, another 1,000 were requested for this temporary reserve force. They would be equipped with “radio, armament, and antisubmarine devices.” (On Cuba, author Ernest Hemingway had a similar idea. He had his private yacht outfitted with 50-millimeter guns and sought to hunt down U-boats the way he had once hunted big game in Africa. However, the famous writer spotted only one submarine that summer, and it was too far away to fire on.)

  Ray was accepted by the coast guard in September 1942. His mechanical skills could have earned him a bigger paycheck in the private sector, but he was fixated on settling his score with the enemy that had nearly killed his family.

  * * *

  Ray reported for duty at the plush former Ponce de Léon Hotel in St. Augustine, Florida, which had been converted for coast guard training. He was fortunate to be able to fulfill his service close to his family. His rank was fireman first class, with duties including the operation and maintenance of boat engines. The job earned him a meager $213 per month, while other, less skilled coast guard enlistees were paid as little as $78 a month.

  In St. Augustine, Ray learned to identify stealthy U-boats by their phosphorescent wake and the particulars of boat-engine repair. More important, he was able to channel his anger over the sinking of the Heredia into productive work.

  While he trained in Florida, Ina and the children prepared for their new home. They had been staying with Ina’s uncle and aunt in San Antonio. As arrangements were made for another Chevy that would take them across the Gulf States, they packed up the kitchen utensils, towels, and other necessities provided by generous friends and family. They had little to start with but looked upon the move as another adventure, even as the reality of their situation continued to sink in. Once, Terry asked his mother where his paint set was.

  “I’m sorry, son. It was on the ship with everything else,” she answered.

  Their rented home in St. Augustine was among modest bungalows in a neighborhood just a few blocks from the Ponce de Léon, where Ray trained. He was soon assigned to a PT (patrol torpedo) boat patrol at the lighthouse station.

  The three-bedroom home had the right amount of space for the family, and Ina immediately sought approval from the landlord to dig up a patch of grass and plant a victory garden. Terry found a job as a soda jerk, and Lucille, now 12, began babysitting. Everyone pitched in to ease the family’s financial burden, which was their way of sharing their father’s sense of duty. Sonny was taught to run laundry through the wringer on the home’s old washing machine and to wipe down the clotheslines before hanging the family’s shirts and pants out to dry. He also hoed the weeds in the garden and helped Ina sterilize canning jars when it was time to put up the vegetables they’d grown.

  When school started, Sonny was a little shy. He squirmed when the teacher introduced him to his new third-grade classmates, explaining he was from Texas.

  “You’re from Texas? Are you a cowboy?” one boy sneered. The label stuck, branding him “Cowboy” around school and making Sonny feel stigmatized. He began to crave the time he had with his dad and Terry on weekends, which usually revolved around playing sports. It was an investment in time that paid dividends later in life.

  The monthly pay of an enlisted man didn’t go far with three growing children to feed. Ina was unable to work full-time as a seamstress until her eyes had completely healed, yet she took on the challenge of scrimping and saving. She made the best of the government’s newly instituted ration system, which allowed each family only limited quantities of goods—from car tires to sugar and shoes.

  “You’re spending too much money on food,” the children heard Ray say one night.

  Never one to back down, Ina responded, “Well, we can’t just do without it.”

  After duty hours, Ray returned home to echo Ina’s emphasis on education, and the children complied, bending closer to their books and composition pages when he appeared. Ray spent more time reading the Bible and began teaching Sunday school at their church, changes the children surmised were related to the Heredia sinking. But his children knew, too, that his sleep was racked with nightmares, and Ray might have been seeking peace from a higher source for that affliction as well.

  The Heredia and its aftermath slowly faded from family conversation, partly to avoid inflaming Ray’s terrible nightmares. The family had a new sense of purpose: fighting the enemy by participating in the war effort on the home front. But the wrenching experience would always be part of their history and sense of strength and resilience.

  EPILOGUE

  THE END OF U-506

  In July 1943, U-506 had engine trouble while crossing the Bay of Biscay near Spain. An American B-24 Liberator found the U-boat sitting on the surface and dived out of the clouds, successfully attacking and sinking the submarine with depth charges. Several crewmen who were on deck managed to
survive after several days in a life raft, but Würdemann and about 44 others died that day. Schacht and his entire crew of U-507 had met a similar fate 300 miles off Brazil in January 1943.

  These scenes played out repeatedly from 1943 to the war’s end in 1945 as the Allies combined technologies to better track and stop U-boats. The tide was turning against the Germans’ most effective war machines.

  THE WAR GRINDS TO A CLOSE

  By the spring of 1945, it was clear that the Germans had lost the war. Within months the Nazi leadership crumbled. On April 30, just before Hitler died by suicide, he named Admiral Dönitz his successor—a surprise because Dönitz had not spoken to Hitler face-to-face in more than nine months.

  On May 7, just a week after Hitler’s suicide, Dönitz approved the surrender of Germany. He sent a message to the Kriegsmarine, thanking them for fighting like lions while telling them to surrender. The war at sea had been relentlessly brutal: more than 2,600 Allied merchant ships were sunk, along with 175 Allied naval vessels and 784 of the fleet of 1,162 U-boats.

  Dönitz went on trial before the International Military Tribunal in Nuremberg, Germany, which determined punishment for war crimes. Dönitz, aided by loyal members of the Kriegsmarine, was found guilty of some charges but served just 10 years in prison, while other German commanders were executed for the atrocities they designed and carried out.

  The final tally of the war showed that approximately 40,000 men served on German U-boats, but only a quarter of them survived the war. Thanks to the Allies’ superior airpower and submarine-detection technology, the Atlantic Ocean is littered with sunken U-boats.

  THE DOWNS FAMILY

  After Ray’s two-year stint in the coast guard at St. Augustine, the Downs family was again on the road, searching for the right combination of employment and luck that would enable them to rise above their meager circumstances. From St. Augustine, they packed up and went west again, to Texas. Ray had a job with a railroad, and they would be closer to family.