First and Last Voyage of the Fort Crevier, 1944, by John Garside
From MemoryArchive
Who: John Garside What: The Voyage and Destruction of the Fort Crevier When: 1943-1944 Where: Half the World
THE FIRST AND LAST VOYAGE OF THE FORT CREVIER by John Garside
Setting Sail
As we entered the Bay of Gaspé we ran into my first full blown gale. Just as I was getting over my fear, the fire bars in the boilers melted and we lost the fire and of course steam. We were wallowing around badly when the call "all hands on deck" was made. Now it's one thing reading about that call in a novel, when you are reading at home by the fireside, and something else again when you are in the middle of a raging storm at sea. We rolled so hard that our life boats, which were swung out on their davits as was the custom in war time, filled with water causing the davits to curl like pretzels and we were ordered to cut them loose. I was hanging onto a line which was tied to a merchant seaman, while he hung over the side cutting at the rope falls holding up the boats. Another seaman secured a line to me and there we were with the seas breaking over the top of us. As I write this, I can feel these many years later how scared I really was. Eventually a deep sea tug got a line on us and we were towed safely into Halifax.
A month later the storm damage was repaired, but we still needed lifeboats before we'd be ready to join a convoy for home. Finally, one day in late October of 1943 we had another call for "All Hands". This time our Captain had a proposition to put to the crew. In as much as our cargo was badly needed in England, he was prepared to install extra life rafts and join a convoy that would get us to England for Christmas IF we would agree to sail without life boats. It was a crew decision, we could not be forced to sail without boats. After surprisingly little discussion, a secret ballot was taken. The outcome was that we joined the next convoy to U.K. which left around the middle of November 1943 and I was about to start doing the job for which I was being paid.
My job as a DEMS gunner was to take care of the ships armament, to man the guns and teach merchant seaman to assist in operating the guns. The Fort Crevier had a modern high angle/low angle four inch gun on the stern, on the monkey island she had two 1914 vintage Lewis guns that fired 303 ammunition and we also had two gun tubs containing Hotchkiss machine guns, also 1914 vintage. Our total ammunition supply consisted of ten four inch shells and about fifty thousand rounds of 303 ammunition. The Lewis guns had magazines that held 150 rounds. Our training indicated that if attacked by a dive bomber, we'd have about ten seconds from the time the plane started to dive before it was within our range, and that it would be in range for six seconds. Given the rate of fire of a Lewis gun, a burst of six seconds would empty the gun. Many gunners developed the system of wait for the dive then, squeeze and duck. No one wanted to be fighting to change magazines with a plane still firing at them.
The Hotchkiss gun fired a strip holding fifty rounds of ammunition. That also took about five seconds. There was so much flash from the gun that if fired at night it blinded any one within fifty feet and lit up the ship like a floodlight. Usually on the first day out to sea the gunners would have a "shoot" to test the guns. On this trip because of our lack of ammunition we decided that the guns would probably be OK and we had better save the ammo.
The Voyage to Manchester
We were happy to have the tug along because we knew that no one else would stop to pick up survivors. The first night out we lost two ships on the outer edge of the convoy; both of them were tankers. I will never forget that sight. In any event, we knew we were in for it. At six knots, there was no way of running from the attacking subs. Then we got a break -- the weather picked up, and before you could shake a stick, the winds were up to gale force making the Bay of Gaspé look like a pond. Below decks it was very uncomfortable to say the least and on deck it was downright dangerous. The good news was knowing the submarines could not operate in that weather. The convoy of course went to hell in a hand basket and scattered all over the ocean, and the lookouts, mostly gunners, had a terrible time trying to stay dry and move about the ship to their look-out stations. The waves were somewhere between fifty and sixty feet tall and we were literally tossed around like a cork. During the daylight hours we would occasionally get a glimpse of another ship which was all we wanted, we sure didn't want to get too close.
The storm lasted four days and it took another four before the seas got back to normal. The destroyers did a lot of running around looking for lost sheep and eventually we were back together and in about the same position we were in when the storm started. We now had another kind of company however. High above us and well out of range of our guns circled a German Focke-Wulf Condor passing on our position to any subs in the area. That night we lost four ships.
The crossing, that normally would have taken ten days, stretched to thirty, most of it through pretty foul weather The only attacks we had were in good weather so we prayed for bad. The surviving members of the convoy finally arrived in Liverpool and after a fun trip up the Manchester ship canal we arrived in Manchester ten days before Christmas.
The young recuperate quickly, I was eighteen at that time, and so after having seven days Christmas leave, strutting around with a western ocean roll, I was ready for sea again.
The Voyage to New York
This time with the same deck and engineering officers but with new deck crew and black hand gang, we sailed on January 5th, 1944. We were in a much smaller convoy and after a day at sea we discovered that we were bound for New York.
Once again the North Atlantic winter showed off its stuff and, because we were light ship, that is in ballast, the ride was even worse than anything I had experienced thus far. Fortunately the wind was behind us so we were making good time west.
On our seventh day out in unbelievably bad weather, a Liberty Ship that had drifted off station, broke in half almost directly in front of us. She went down almost immediately. There was nothing that we could do except hang on. Although the Liberty went down fast we had no chance and we ran over the top of her wreckage to a horrible scraping and tearing sound. No one had to ask Chippy to sound the bilges, he was doing that even as we scraped over the sinking ship and he found lots of water. However the water was not getting deeper with time so the pumps were taking care of things. After a full assessment of our damage, our skipper asked permission of the Commodore of the convoy to leave and head for New York independently. This request was granted and we were on our own, heading for Brooklyn and dry dock.
On arrival in New York we were immediately assigned to a dry dock and when the dry dock was eventually pumped dry, a walk beneath the ship showed a gash that ran from just forward of the bridge the entire length of No. 2 hold. This is about the length of a Grey Coach Bus. We were very lucky we got in!
The month that the ship spent in dry dock, I spent in Hillside, New Jersey with my aunt and uncle and a cousin who was a bit younger than I was. I had a wonderful time! I had just turned nineteen, and thus was a kind of trophy for my cousin who was perhaps seventeen at the time. He showed me around with pride and obviously I loved it. Every week I went to Brooklyn to check on the ship and was surprised to find all kinds of activity on board. We were being converted into a mule carrier with stalls for six hundred mules and accommodation for forty horse soldiers.
While all the repair work and modifications were in progress the powers that be decided to improve our armament. A twelve pounder gun was added in the bow, the Hotchkiss guns were replaced by two modern twin fifty caliber machine guns , the Lewis guns were replaced with four twenty millimeter Oerlikons. And the piece de resistance was a Pill Box that carried two banks of rockets, ten to a bank. Paravanes were added so that we could sweep in front of the bow for mines. Degaussing gear to help against magnetic mines was also installed.
Eventually the repairs and conversion were complete, and I said goodbye to my new found friends in New York and New Jersey. The ship sailed two days later and soon we learned that our destination was Norfolk, Virginia where we would load mules. Arriving in Norfolk, I was surprised to see that we did not go along side, instead we laid off in the bay and the mules were brought out to us in barges.
The first to board were the Cavalry. Forty horse soldiers came aboard with their kit and tools. After stowing their gear, they quickly went about the job of preparing to receive the mules. Gangways were put in place to guide the mules into the stalls that had been built 'tween decks, and by the time the first barge load of mules arrived every thing was ready. The first twenty mules moved up the steep gangway (rigged on our starboard side) without a problem, but when they saw their buddies disappearing into the bowels of the ship, they got scared or suspicious or something and the line bogged down. Nothing would move them, either up or down. After great discussions between officers and men, a small boat dashed ashore and an hour later a boat came around to our port side and in the boat was a small pure white mule with a big shiny bell around her neck. A boom was rigged and the mule came aboard in a cargo net.
Once aboard, she was taken over to the head of the gangway and her handler rang her bell. It was like magic. The stalled mules, hearing the bell and seeing the white mule mare, charged up the gangway and went meekly down into the holds. A couple of times the mules stalled again but as soon as the white mule appeared the line moved on. It took most of the day to load them all but once they were all aboard the white mule was taken ashore and we started to get acquainted with our passengers, both soldiers and mules.
It was the end of February, by the time we set sail for Gibraltar en route to Karachi in India. Our cargo of mules was destined for the Burma Front where they would become the only possible way to move supplies over the mountains, the famous Burma Hump.
The weatherman was good to us. That meant we had bad weather that would keep the submarines down where they couldn't attack us. The mules didn't seem to mind but most of the horse soldiers were pretty sick. The winds and seas were once again in the right direction so we made good speed to Gibraltar. As we settled down into our sea routine, we all enjoyed the animals. Walking forward on deck at night was a trip. With each roll of the ship a row of heads or rumps would come out of the stalls depending whether they were loaded head first or tail first.
Thanks to the bad weather we neither saw nor heard from the enemy during the crossing and we arrived in Gibraltar unscathed. As we had no business other than waiting for a convoy through the Mediterranean, we were directed to an anchorage in the Bay.
Now the waters of the Bay washed up on the shores of Spain which, while a neutral country, was known to be friendly to the enemy. Earlier that year, German skin divers walked out to the anchored ships and attached limpet mines (magnetic) to the bottom of ships and blew holes in their bottoms. The masts of the sunken ships were a grim reminder to all of us of this danger.
We had no sooner dropped our hook than a picket boat was along side and passed boxes of hand grenades up to us. After a ten minute instruction in their use, we were ordered to set up an anchor watch. We were to walk around the ship from dawn 'til dusk and we were to throw hand grenades at any kind of air bubble trails that we saw. From dusk 'til dawn we were to make the same circuit, only this time we were to throw a grenade over the side every half hour. Because our port and starboard sides were lined with mule stalls we did our patrols on the roofs of the stalls. The mules didn't like this much but soon got used to it. As you can imagine, it was pretty noisy at night but there were no more sinkings after this procedure was adopted. As it happened we only stayed one night in the Bay. The following morning we went alongside for bunkers and other supplies.
The Voyage to Port Said
We left Gibraltar the following day for our run up the Mediterranean. We knew that we were in range of both German and Italian Air Forces to say nothing of enemy subs, until we were well past Italy. So while the mules and soldiers enjoyed the sun and warm shady areas of the ship, we gunners cooked at our lookout stations.
Each watch there would be a gunner on lookout in the bow, one on our twelve pounder gun platform, one on the Monkey island where we had two twin fifty calibers machine guns and one on the four inch gun platform on the stern. Additionally on every aircraft sighting we would man all of our armament, that meant our four twenty millimeter Oerlikons and our Pill Box, a rocket launcher capable of firing twenty rockets at incoming aircraft. By the time we steamed into Port Said we were badly in need of sleep. We had lots of false alarms but fortunately no attacks. There was one sad occurrence: one of the mules had a belly problem and mules, like horses, cannot throw up so the poor animal died of stomach poisoning and was buried at sea.
Port Said
We took on coal at Port Said and this was an eye opener. Two large, long planks of wood stretched up from the coal dock to the ship's side where the bunkers were located, and then a huge crowd of natives appeared at the coal pile. Some of the men filled baskets with coal, others picked up filled baskets and lifted them on to yet other men's heads and these men ran up the planks, dumped the coal into the bunker, and pretty soon there was a continuous line going up one plank and down the other. In this manner we took on hundreds of tons of coal. I remember thinking, "this is how they built the pyramids."
Next Stop Aden
With the bunkers refilled and the necessities of life for crew, soldiers and mules replenished, we were boarded by the Pilot who would see us safely through the Suez Canal. As we got underway, we were also boarded by an assortment of Egyptian merchants, fakers and entertainers. These people sold everything from carpets, silks, satins, and every kind of leather goods imaginable. There were silver smiths who made beautiful filigree bracelets and other jewelry while you watched. The first day was interesting because of the newness of it all. We passed the occasional ship west bound and on the banks we would see men riding camels as well as the odd group of soldiers. After about a day and a half we came to the oasis of Ismailia and a good sized lake. This was King Farouk's summer residence and we saw his beautiful yacht. I believe we stayed the night there, and as I remember, there was no traffic at night on the canal.
The rest of the trip was not all that interesting, but we were entertained by the magicians who worked with live chickens. They could pull a chicken from behind your ear and hand it to you flapping and cackling. God knows how they did it.
All the way east, every ten miles or so, there were staging areas where we would pull over so other ships going west could pass, and occasionally an eastward bounder which had a higher priority than we did. While waiting in these areas, we often would attract a few bum boats. These were more like rowboats as I remember and were usually manned by rug, leather and pottery merchants. They also nearly always sold American cigarettes, but these were usually very old and full of weevils.
We finally cleared the Canal at Port Tewfick and entered the Red Sea. The further east we went the hotter it got and the smell of mules and hot urine became grim. It was then that there were rumblings from the black hand gang about the heat. The Captain issued side arms to the engineering officers and the threat of the guns kept the men working.
The temperature in the boiler room was around 130 degrees F and the engine room wasn't much better. A couple of days into the Red Sea and a couple of stokers said: "you can shoot us mother f**kers we is quitting," or words to that effect. The old man put them in irons. However as British Captains don't shoot mutineers any more, he asked for volunteers from all his officers and deck crew to shovel coal and fire the ship. The gunners were not invited to help but rather asked to close up our guns and keep a sharp lookout. Deck people don't like spending time so far below decks. We finally put into Aden in Saudi Arabia long enough to get more coal and replace the two mutineers. Two days later we were off into the Arabian Sea on our last leg to Karachi.
The weather was outstanding, the days hot and sunny, and the nights warm and breezy. There is a great deal of phosphorus in the Arabian sea, and at night we would watch the dolphins which were leading the ship. It was a favorite pastime for off duty crew members. There would often be as many as eight of these large and beautiful fish crisscrossing our bow, and the phosphorus lit them up in green streaks. Truly a beautiful sight, the Arabian Sea is without a doubt one of the world's most beautiful seas.
The down side of the Arabian Sea was that we had the usual submarine threat to deal with and an additional threat from the Japanese who had armed merchant cruisers operating in the area. Karachi was a main supply port for all war materials for the Burma Front. In fact that's why our mules were destined to arrive. I have forgotten how long it took us to get from Aden to Karachi, probably not more than five or six days. We arrived safely and pulled along side a dock that was open to two large corrals.
Karachi
What a sight to see, the horse soldiers were met by others already stationed there and soon established a large corral just off the dockside. Gangways were again rigged and first the mules on deck were walked to the gangways. They needed no encouragement at all, down they went into the corral.
After ten weeks at sea they had gained their sea legs and now on solid ground. They fell and tripped as they ran around bucking and kicking; they were so happy. After they had settled down a bit they were moved to a second enclosure and another batch were sent ashore. Eventually they were gone, soldiers and all, and we knew how Noah must have felt when he off loaded the Arc. What a mess and what a smell! The soldiers had shoveled what poop they could and hosed down the decks but our bilges were full of a substance about the consistency of porridge and we wondered how on earth the mess could be cleaned up. The next day we learned the terrible truth.
At about six a.m., trucks arrived with long planks similar to what we saw in Port Said when we took on coal. These were placed against the ships side, only this time they were steeper as the ship road higher in the water after the mules were gone. Similar planks were set up leading down into the holds. Then more trucks arrived carrying about two hundred young girls with a few older boys. What took place next was outrageous and most of us were horrified.
Overseers with whistles and whips organized these children into two groups, boys to fill and lift baskets onto the heads of the girls and girls to carry the baskets up the planks to our main deck, then down the planks to the shore side. As you can imagine the flimsy baskets were soon leaking their contents onto the heads, faces, shoulders of these poor kids and anyone showing signs of slowing down caught a taste of the whip. It wasn't long before these children were soaked in filth and were all crying. That was my introduction to the mysterious east.
That evening most of us went ashore to look around and we needed distraction. We explored the bazaars and bought strange fruit and food, and mixed with people all of whom seemed to be wearing bed sheets with a smattering of turbans. All of the women we saw wore saris and we noted the beautiful bearing of most of them. We also noticed a high proportion of crippled people and beggars. Before we returned to the ship we knew the word baksheesh (give me some money) and would hear it often for the next year or so.
Once the ship was clean again we were ordered to proceed to Bombay prior to returning to Virginia for another load of mules. Bombay was about 500 miles south, several days down the Arabian Sea. We knew that the weather would be good and we expected a quiet safe trip.
I neglected to tell you about one of the good things about having the American soldiers aboard. They had food and other goodies which they most generously shared with all of us. When they went ashore in Karachi their unused stores were left on board for the use of the next contingent. We all knew of this and paid many visits to the hold where their goods were kept, gaining entrance by sliding down a ventilator into the hold. This was all done late at night and soon we took our turn with other crew members and shared the loot. We stole O'Henry bars and gum by the case, canned fruits etc. etc. and generally lived like kings for almost a week until the bubble burst.
Somehow the Old Man got wind of it, and started to search the crew's quarters. We heard of the search and started to pitch cases of goodies through the port holes in our mess deck. We tore up cartons and pitched them through as fast as we could. Meanwhile the seamen and stokers not on watch did the same until the Old Man arrived with the First Mate and the Chief Steward. He caught the seamen and stokers red handed then started on our quarters. We came up smelling like a rose, although he did find a couple of O'Henry bars. We tried to persuade him that the candy was a legitimate purchase from the soldiers but he didn't believe out story. After the skipper left we went on deck and looking astern, as far as the eye could see, were cardboard boxes and cans of fruit. The word soon came back that when we reached Bombay, he was going to turn us all over to the authorities and charge us with broaching cargo, a very serious offense.
The Beginning of the End
The dock was a tidal dock which means it had a gate like a lock gate that was closed on the turn of the tide in order to maintain enough water in the dock to float the shipping, and this morning there were eleven ships of various sizes in the dock. The Fort Crevier was one of the largest and we saw that our sister ship the Fort Stikine was lying directly across the harbor from us about four hundred yards away.
About 11:00 am, a crew member pointed out to me that a thin coil of black smoke appeared to be coming out of one of the Stikine's ventilators. I went into my quarters and told a couple of the boys sitting in the mess deck, then grabbing a pair of binoculars, I returned to the deck. I got myself a seat on a bollard and focused on the Fort Stikine and that side of the dock. Sure enough, black smoke was spiraling up from a ventilator but nothing else seemed to be amiss. Behind the ships was a long stone and brick warehouse and along the top of the building were huge cranes used to unload the ships. There were probably eight to ten of these monsters. On the gangway side of the ship, there were identical warehouses and the same number of cranes.
After lunch, I went back to my bollard perch and noticed much more activity going on. The smoke was now a dense pall, and obvious measures were being taken to put out the fire. At about 2:00 pm, I was called to the gangway where the gunners from the Fort Stikine were asking for me. I invited them aboard; they were quite agitated. They informed me that the Fort Stikine was a bomb waiting to go off and they urged me to leave the ship and get out of the dockyard. My immediate reaction was that they were exaggerating but when I looked over at the Stikine again, there was what seemed to be a fireboat there. In any event, there was now lots of action going on and the Fort Stikine gunners left for the DEMS office downtown.
About 3:30 pm, I was back on my perch, feet on the rail and glasses trained on the burning ship. The other gunners had gone below for a nap and I was sharing my glasses with the Third Engineer, John Walsh, who was standing on my right. About 3.45 pm, John had just given me back the glasses, and as I focused them on the ship, she blew.
I was picked up by the blast and in a sitting position carried about twenty feet across the deck and dropped like a sack into an open coal bunker. When I came to, a steel covered hatch board fell into the bunker and buried itself in the coal by my head. It is true about your life flashing before you, it sure happened to me. The ship was rolling like it was in a gale at sea. I am not sure how I got out of that bunker but I did. I looked around and it was like an inferno. The cranes I mentioned earlier had disappeared, we were no longer secured to the dock, the lines had parted like string and ammunition was exploding all around us. The hay and straw, as well as the wooden mule stalls, were all blazing. From where I was standing in the aft portion of the ship, there was no one to be seen so I headed for the bridge.
As I approched the midships section I was met by the Second Mate who was bleeding badly around the face. When he saw me he asked me to look at his eye. The injury was not that bad, a piece of steel had cut his eyelid and was bleeding profusley. I balled a handkerchief and held it to his eye until he got his bearings. He had just come from the bow and said the deck plates were turning red with the heat and told me to pass the word "abandon ship." As I made my way back aft, I saw Davy, one of our gunners. I sent him below for a couple of life jackets and the keys to the main ammunition locker. He returned with the life jackets but could not find the set of keys so we broke the padlocks on the flooding valves with a fire axe and managed to flood the main magazine locker. By this time the stern of the ship had drifted out about a hundred yards or so from the dock side but I saw a steel ladder up the dock wall some distance away. I knew that Davy couldn't swim but I pointed out the ladder to him and told him that I would go first. From the stern it was a good thirty feet to the water and after making sure it was clear, I went over the side, and with a little encouragement from me, Davy followed. We made for the ladder and climbed onto the dock. Ammunition was exploding all around us -- in fact, it was a little like a fireworks display gone wrong. We were a couple of cold, wet and very scared kids.
We ran, not sure where we were going, hopefully away from the burning dock when we heard a shout of "Hey you two, come here". We looked up and saw to our amazement a full R.N. Commander, dressed in a spotless uniform, gold braid and all. We ran over to him and he asked what the hell we were doing. I chopped him one off and told him we were survivors from the Fort Crevier. He asked if there were others but we couldn't answer; we didn't know. He pointed in the direction of the exit to the dock and told us to run for it and turn left when we got outside. He told us that the road would take us down town and to ask for the DEMS Office. As we ran looking for the exit there was another horrendous explosion and I was airborn once again, as the blast picked me up and tossed me on my way. We found that we weren't hurt and continued on our wild dash for safety.
After half an hour of steady running, we found ourselves in a modern part of the city and as I looked around I saw the white ensign flying on the top of a building and we knew that we were home. As we entered the building a young woman dressed in a beautiful sari was coming out. When she saw us, she screamed so loud that naval police came running out. Remember, we were both wearing dress white uniforms, mine was mostly black from the coal dust in the bunker and my white shirt and jumper were covered with the second mates blood, my right trouser leg was also bloody from a shrapnel cut, and my right hand was bloody with fresh blood. On top of that, we had both been in the drink. We must have looked pretty scary.
The Naval Police took us inside where we found lots of company; no one that we knew, but all DEMS. We were given first aid and hot tea, then loaded into trucks and taken to H.M.S. Braganza, a shore station on the outskirts of the city. There we were shepherded into a large mess deck which was already occupied with survivors and regular navy types who waited on us hand and foot. Each time a new group trickled in the cries and cheers as shipmates were united was overwelming. I remember having a hot shower and then back to Sick Bay for a more thorough examination. As it turned out, my physical injuries were all minor.
By 9:00 pm all my people showed up and we started to put things together. Although we must have discussed it, I don't recall how the other gunners got off that ship; I only know they got off after Davy and I did. The Fort Crevier lost one man, Third Engineer John Walsh, who was standing on my right at the time of the explosion. He was picked up by the same blast that got me and was slammed into the bulkhead behind him while I was thrown clear. Our Chief Steward got to the dock in shock. Later I was to learn he had a heart attack. Someone laid him out on the dock and an ambulance, tearing round a corner, ran over both his legs.
Many of the Indian workers on deck were killed . One of the boys saw the ship break her mooring lines when the tidal wave, created by the explosion, hit us. He said that as the ship rolled away from the dock the gangway dropped twenty or thirty people into the water and when the ship rolled back they were all crushed against the wall. I never saw any of the Fort Crevier's officers and crew of merchant seamen again. Incidentally, our Captain was ashore during the explosion and I was never to find out, nor care, if indeed he reported us for stealing those O'Henry bars.
A couple of weeks after the explosion Davy and I had an opportunity to board the Crevier again. I no longer remember how or why we were able to do this. We went out to her by boat; she was probably anchored out in the roads with the other burnt out hulks.
I recall the buckled deck plates as we went aft to our quarters and the companionway down into our mess was buckled and twisted. Our sleeping cabin was a disaster. Everything that would burn was gone, our lockers had melted and we saw the remains of some English money that had melted down and welded to the deck. Our mess deck was in the same condition. It was a shocking sight to us and we left.
On the way back to the dock I noticed a strange sight on a ship in the roads. One of the Fort Stikine's anchors was blown out to sea. The twenty or thirty feet of chain, had caught on, and had wrapped itself around the mast.
THE END
For more on this voyage, see John Garside's webpage
