THE SINKING OF THE DUCHESS OF ATHOLL – 10th OCTOBER 1942
- The Experience Ashore -
My father was the telegraphist covering the “Distress” frequency at the R.N. W/T Station on Ascension Island in the South Atlantic at the time. The main role for such a station was that of receiving and relaying bulletins etc. in code or cypher and using the advent of the day – taped Morse. The beneficiary being Allied shipping, it was done in conjunction with similar stations in Freetown, Accra and Takoradi on the West African Coast. In addition, a 24-hour “watch” was maintained on 500 KCs – the Distress frequency – using manual equipment.
As it seemed that the less experienced personnel were those earmarked for that duty and this being my father’s first draft from Signal School in England, he found himself to be the chosen one on this occasion.
Duchess of Athol and the George Elliott, Brooklyn 1942
During his stint of 4 hours on the morning of 10th October – he cannot remember the precise time - he heard the whisper of an S.O.S. On making contact with his opposite number, he learned that the signal was from a lifeboat – one of over 20 – and using batteries already failing badly, my father, realising he was the only recipient of the distress call, after repeatedly verifying the position and ship’s name – “Duchess of Atholl”, notified his superiors.
With no news of an early rescue, there followed many hours of anxiety for my father. He began to question both his hearing and Morse. Then the HMS Corinthian, fortuitously close by, docked and was despatched with my father’s log details finding the survivors, some 28 hours after the sinking. One can imagine his relief!
Considering the heavy shipping losses and successful rescues occurring at that time, one might have accepted that the “Duchess of Atholl” outcome was almost routine. However, lingering in my father’s mind all these years have been the true circumstances surrounding the event.
On the morning in question, installed in the isolated wooden cabin that housed the 500 Kcs receiver/transmitter, and becoming bored with the W/T silence on this occasion, with some sense of guilt, he wandered several K’cs from the distress band. He was then surprised to hear strains of dance music - since the nearest radio station must have been Brazilian based and at least 1400 miles west. After listening for only a few seconds and about to return to 500 Kcs, he then heard the faintest stutter of the S.O.S. from behind the music.
As aforementioned and after fine tuning, he established contact with his opposite number before the lifeboat’s batteries faded completely. The sobering thought that he had broken the rules for those few seconds on this occasion, the lifeboats may never have been located - certainly not in time – has stayed with him for 62 years.
In fact we now learn that, as a result, the lives of 821 people were saved!
After sending his story to “The Navy News”, we have received letters from the grandson and son respectively of two survivors – both thanking my father for his part in their rescue.
I've attached a copy of the KTB from U-178 for the 10th October 1942. The KTB was the "Kriegstagebuch" or "war diary" (log) that recorded everything from sea state, wind, visibility, to attacks etc. KTBs went by CET - which is GMT+1. Their logs kept this time no matter how far they roamed.
A brief explanation of the entries for the 10.10.42:
At 08.03 the ship was sighted and quickly made out to be a "Duchess" [sic] class ship. (there's a few typos on this page of the log)
The boat was manoevered for attack position, about 25 minutes passing before the zig-zagging ship zagged into position for the stern tubes to be fired.
According to the KTB a double shot (torpedoes) was fired at 08.29, resulting in an explosion sighted under the aft mast. At 08.37 two more torpedoes were fired, an explosion was heard but no apparent damage was seen.
By 09.15 lifeboats had been launched, (despite what Hollywood would have us believe it was fairly common for U-Boat commanders to wait for boats to be launched before resuming attack). At 09.18 he decided to try another torpedo as a finishing shot. At 09.21 yet another torpedo.
The Duchess of Atholl did not go down until 11.25.
The Duchess sinking.
According to the KTB, no SOS was sent by the U-Boat. However the entry that reads
"Anschließend bei den Rettungsboote Name als "Duchess of Atholl" (20119 Br.T.) bestätigt."
translates into: [intercepted message] from the rescue boat, the name of "Duchess of Atholl" (20,119 tons) is confirmed.
I had another look at my translation of the KTB page, especially the part about the message intercepted by the U-Boat. "Rettungsboot" I translated literally as "rescue boat" but in this case actually the english equivalent is "life boat" - and this of course fits. It's the faint signal that was picked up by Ascension Is.
Shipping casualties and trade sent me this info:
SHIPPING CAUSALTIES SECTION –TRADE DIVISION
REPORT OF AN INTERVIEW WITH THE MASTER, CAPTAIN H.A. MOORE.
2nd November 1942.
S.S. DUCHESS OF ATHOLL 20,119 Gross Tons
Sunk by 3 torpedoes from U-boat on 10th October 1942.
With grateful thanks to Howard Cock, site URL
CAPTAIN H.A. MOORE.
We sailed from Capetown bound for Freetown with 3,500 tons of general cargo.
The ship was armed with one 6” gun, one 3” H.A. gun, 4 Oerlikons, 4 Twin Marlins, 6 Depth Charges, 4 Pig Troughs, 2 F.A.M’s and 2 P.A.C. Rockets.
The crew numbered 291, including 19 Naval and 7 Military Gunners and we were carrying 534 passengers. 4 of the crew- the 5th and 6th Engineers, 2nd Electrician and a greaser are missing and 1 was injured. All Confidential Books were thrown overboard in weighted boxes, we were carrying 9 special bags of mail, (1 special bag for the American Naval Attaché, Freetown, 2 special bags for the Admiralty, London, 4 bags for F.M.O., Freetown and 2 bags for F.M.O. G.P.O. London). I personally threw all 9 bags overboard. Degaussing was on.
We sailed from Capetown on the 3rd October and proceeded independently as routed by the N.C.S.O. for Freetown. During the evening of the 8th October I received a wireless signal ordering me to alter course immediately. This was done and the following evening 9th October at 2230 we again received a diversion signal, which was promptly carried out. We proceeded without further incident until the 10th October.
On 10th October, I commenced zig-zagging on No.1 at 0500 before the sun rose at 0620. The weather was fine and visibility good, there was a moderate swell and a South Easterly wind force 4.We were proceeding at 17 knots zig-zagging Pattern No 1 On a mean course of 001 (true) when at0635 in position 7 03’s. - 11 12’w.we were struck by a torpedo.
The torpedo struck the ship in the centre of the engine room on the port side. It was a very loud explosion but I did not see any water thrown up nor was any flash or flame seen. The ship immediately began to lose speed. All the lights were extinguished and she soon became immobile. The ship turned about 180 degrees. As the main wireless set was put out of action we sent out distress signals on the emergency battery set but we received no confirmation of those messages being received. All the ‘midships boats were kept swung out ready for any emergency. At 0650 the Chief Engineer reported to me that the engine room was flooded. At 0655 a second torpedo struck the ship in about the same place on the port side. Again there was a loud explosion but there was no water thrown up or any flash. After this explosion I ordered the women and children into the boats and to abandon ship, this was done quietly and efficiently without the slightest race of panic. During all this time the ship remained perfectly upright and there was no difficulty with launching the boats.
At 0725 a third torpedo found its mark on the starboard side abreast No 3 hatch I was on the bridge when this torpedo exploded and although I did not realise that any water was thrown up the bridge was covered with water few seconds later. I did not see a flash from this torpedo. The ship now began to settle so I decided to get into my boat but before doing so I threw overboard all confidential books and mails. Everybody was clear of the ship by 0745.
We carried 32 lifeboats. The explosion smashed nos. 12, 14 and 14 A Boats and the motorboat badly damaged, she had to be abandoned 20 minutes after being launched. All boats were lowered successfully except the boats at each end, which were kept swung under the Welland davits. I personally think it is a mistake to leave gravity davits on the slides, I like to have mine turned outboard. We finally abandoned ship in 26 lifeboats including 2 motorboats. The Chief Wireless Operator and I were the last to leave the ship. The crew told me later that there was a large hole in the port side well below the water line. I am sure that the torpedoes exploded on impact. I took the Chief Wireless Operator over to the other motorboat, which was stopped and transferred him for wireless duties. Shortly after abandoning ship it was discovered that the magneto and the clutch of this motorboat flooded and were useless. I ordered this boat to lay her sea anchor and used her as a Wireless station ordering all boats to remain in the vicinity. The clutch could not be freed although the boat contained the Chief Engineer, Assistant Engineer and several junior engineers who did their utmost to remedy the defect.
At 0915 on the 10th the submarine surfaced but did not come near my boat, she remained in the vicinity all day and most of the following night as I could smell her engines until 0400 on the 11th October. The submarine spoke to the crew of some of the boats and these men had a fairly good view of this submarine and reported her to be a new craft without any signs of rust about her. They noticed the “U” painted on the fore part of the conning tower. The crew were dressed in Khaki shirts and shorts without caps and the interrogation officer spoke good English and was thought to be a German. One man reported that he saw one of the Officers onboard the submarine wearing 3 gold bands with a star above on his cuffs. The submarine itself was between 250-300 feet, with two guns, probably about 4” one forward and one aft of the conning tower and a machine gun on the conning tower.
When we abandoned ship there was a heavy swell and practically everybody was sea-sick. However the weather moderated during the morning of the 10th October when we experienced a moderate S.E. trade wind, a moderate swell and a slight sea. The sky was cloudy with occasional light rain showers but it was very warm.
We watched the ship sink at 0925, she turned right over on her port side and then slid gently down by the stern.
All boats were supplied with the modern food but we were only in them for 28 hours there was not much occasion to sample it. Whilst in the boats the wireless operators continued to broadcast our position and to keep in communication with Ascension Island, which was 150 miles distant. At 0830 on the 11th October the rescue vessel was sighted. She was the Armed Merchant Cruiser CORINTHIAN. All the boats went alongside and by 1330 all the survivors were safely embarked. The CORINTHIAN had apparently used her D/F on our wireless but we did not know that she was in touch with us. This vessel took us to Freetown where we landed on the 15th October in the afternoon.
During the whole proceedings all the crew and passengers behaved extraordinarily well and there was no sign of panic and everything went according to plan.
Jackie McCauley's Father's Account.
Jackie McCauley's father, blond-haired, back row playing for Royal Navy football team
on Ascention Island in 1942.
I was the telegraphist covering the “Distress” frequency at the R.N. W/T Station on Ascension Island in the South Atlantic at the time. The main role for such a station was that of receiving and relaying bulletins etc. in code or cypher and using the advent of the day – taped Morse. The beneficiary being Allied shipping, it was done in conjunction with similar stations in Freetown, Accra and Takoradi on the West African Coast. In addition, a 24-hour “watch” was maintained on 500 KCs – the Distress frequency – using manual equipment.
As it seemed that the less experienced personnel were those earmarked for that duty and at 20 years of age, this being my first draft from Signal School in England, I found myself to be the chosen one on this occasion.
During my stint of 4 hours on the morning of 10th October – I cannot remember the precise time - I heard the whisper of an S.O.S. On making contact with my opposite number, I learned that he was transmitting from a lifeboat – one of over 20 – and using batteries already failing. Realising I was the only recipient of the distress call and, after repeatedly verifying the position and ship’s name, I passed the details to the officer in charge.
“HMS Corinthian”, fortuitously close by at the time, docked and was despatched with my log details. There followed many hours of anxiety – I began to question both my hearing and Morse! Then, the following day, news was received that the survivors had been located – some 28 hours or so after the sinking…. I must add, to my great relief!
Considering the heavy shipping losses and successful rescues occurring at that time, one might have accepted that the “Duchess of Atholl” outcome was almost routine. However, lingering in my mind all these years have been the true circumstances surrounding the event.
On the morning in question, installed in the isolated wooden cabin that housed the 500 Kcs receiver/transmitter, and becoming bored with the W/T silence, with a sense of guilt, I wandered several K’cs from the distress band. I was then surprised to hear strains of dance music - since the nearest radio station must have been Brazilian based - at least 1400 miles west. After listening for only a few seconds and about to return to 500 Kcs, I then heard the faintest stutter of the S.O.S. from behind the music.
As aforementioned and after fine tuning, I managed to establish contact with the operator on the lifeboat before it’s batteries faded completely. The sobering thought that had I not broken the rules for those few seconds on this occasion, the lifeboats may never have been located - certainly not in time – has stayed with me for 62 years.
In fact we now learn that, as a result, the lives of 821 people were saved!
I doubt if I need to add how reassured this has made me feel.
Wedding photo 1945
Jackie's parents on her father's 80th birthday in 2003.
They now reside in Perignan, South West France.
This story from the site's noticeboard pulled together the whole dramatic episode.
My Father John Cullen Joined the Merchant Navy 20/11/1940 served until 29/05/1956 Onboard the following ships:
Nea Hellas, Duchess of Atholl, Tegelberg, Durban Castle, Dunnotter Castle, Empire Mackay, Empire Regent, Empire Brent, Largs Bay, Maloja,Cameronia, Alcantara and TSS Captain Cook.
First ship named Nea Hellas joined her 10/12/1940 Sailed from Glasgow on 23/12/1940 troops onboard bound for Middle East.
Ship return Glasgow 14/06/1941 was sent to Liverpool to join The Duchess of Atholl.
Troops were embark again for the Middle East sailed 31/07/1941 returned to Liverpool 28/06/1942 troops again embarked.
On the way back from the Middle East we had stopped at Durban SouthAfrica to load a cargo of oranges to take back to Britain when at 6 am on the 10th October off the coast of Africa we were torpedoed by a German submarine that fired three torpedoes First torpedo hit the engine room leaving us powerless the second torpedo was fired approximately 20 minutes later and a huge hole was blown in the forward hold after approximately 20 minutes the submarine reappeared and fired its third torpedo at the ship by this time the Captain had given orders to take to the lifeboat and abandon the ship.
The ship by this time was beginning to list when we lowered the lifeboats and when rowing away from The Duchess of Atholl it was a sad sight to see the stern rising up and the ship slowly going beneath the waves. We were 2 days in the lifeboats before we were picked up by an American Cruiser and were subsequently taken to Freetown, Africa and spent another week before we were repatriated to Glasgow.
We landed at Greenock at midnight and were put on a train for Glasgow and landed at Central Station at 1.30 am to make our own way home with no money and all the clothes I had was an Army greatcoat. Had to walk all the way from Central Station to Whitevale Street.
My Father is 84 years of age and lives in Glasgow.
The rescue ship was HMS Corinthian a former Ellerman Lines Ocean boarding vessel, I bet it looked GOOD.
The above account was supplied by Jim Cullen.