After leaving Palma, Boudicca set sail for the Straits of Gibraltar. This meant sailing roughly south-west to a point north of Oran (northern coast of Algeria), before turning due west to pass through the Straits of Gibraltar.
Having previously checked the course with Capt. Degerlund, we'd established that we'd get relatively close to a point in the Mediterranean where, on the 14th May 1944, our (my four siblings and myself) family history might have been significantly changed.
From our (see above) father, Richard Lyne's, autobiography:
The weather on the night of 13/14 May 1944 was calm. It had been a hot night, never really dark. Richard had been on the middle watch in the radio cabin. There had been the usual general bulletins from Rugby, messages from Malta and Gibraltar for other convoys, some weather exchanges between neutrals, silence from the Commodore and escort. No sightings of aircraft, merchant raiders or submarines had been reported in the area.
This latter was not surprising: the Admiralty had notified all ships during the outward convoy that all U-boats had been cleared from the Mediterranean, and shortly after leaving Augusta the Commodore had confirmed this. Coming up on the bridge at 0400 to begin the morning watch Richard saw that dawn had already broken, and the rising sun promised yet another fine day. He was now on visual signals duties, which involved sending and receiving messages by Aldis lamp and helping out with flag signals as required. The Captain, First Officer, helmsman and two seamen were already on the bridge but another pair of eyes was always useful. The sea was smooth. The convoy ploughed steadily on. The continuous drone of the engines was soothing.
“TORPEDO ON THE STARBOARD BOW!”
The lookout’s shout caused all eyes to swivel. There it was: some two cables away a silvery fish was streaking towards them, a powerful miniwash of bubbles following. A column of ships lay between it and the G. S. Walden.
“BRIDGE: DOWN!”
Richard registered the Captain’s shout and threw himself to the deck. As he lay prone a series of thoughts ran almost simultaneously through his mind: Mummy Mary Dad my white shorts will get dirty the wheel swinging like that is rather unseamanlike soon there won’t be any wheel no ship either no life I’m twenty perhaps I shall find out what it’s all about hope it will be sudden maybe the other ships will be hit instead of us..
RRRROOOOOMMM!
The bow of the ship reared up into the air. Richard’s stomach pressed painfully against his spine. Shrieking steel plates clashed and screamed as they tore apart and scraped together. Twisted metal curved down into the sea and up into the sky. Pieces of ship fell into the sea; six inch rivets clanged onto the deck like hailstones. The ship fell back into the water. The sea poured into the forepart. Ballast spurted out from fractured tanks. The ship began to settle down by the head. Already the fo’c’sle head was under water. The bridge party picked themselves up from the deck of the wheelhouse. The helmsman seized the wheel. The Captain dusted down his uniform. The klaxon started sounding.
“STOP ENGINES!”
Derrrinng. Derrrinng.
“QUARTERMASTER: MIDSHIPS”
“Midships, Sir”
Derrrinng. Derrrinng.
“Mr Corser: reports of casualties please. Prepare extra sick bay spaces.” “Well, gentlemen, we appear to have most of our ship still. But there may be more where that came from. Sparky?” Richard switched on the Aldis lamp and aimed the sight at the Commodore’s ship two columns away. “Yes, Sir.” “Make to Commodore: torpedo strike starboard bow damage unknown...” Richard began calling. An answering flash appeared. “And hoist: My engines are stopped.” With his other hand Richard reached into the flag locker. “Mr McMillan: radios OK?” “Yessir” “Send U-boat warning to all ships!” “Aye, aye, Sir.
Chief: engine report, please”. “Engines OK. Electrics, hydraulics, steam, hoses, pneumatics all OK. And fuel undamaged. Sir.” “Thank you, Chief.
Mr Lyne, where the bloody hell are those flags? We’ll have Immingham up our backside in a minute.” “Aloft now, Sir.” “OK, Sparky. Aerial damage?” “Both aerials OK, Sir.”
“Very well... Mr Harper: structural report, please. Tanks, lids, valves, pipes, spars, struts, bulkheads, doors, catwalk.. .
Mr Corser:” “Sir” “Take over Mr Harper’s watch until the forenoon please.
Mr Mansell:” “Sir?” “Prepare for ballast transfer aft.” “Aye, aye, Sir.. .
Bosun?” “Sir” “Two working parties please. You take forward damage, I’ll check valves.”
“Signal from Commodore: fall out from convoy await instructions from escort report your speed good luck.”
“Make to Commodore: estimate three knots maximum thank you.”
Had the attack been on the way to Bari in Italy before the G.S. Walden had discharged the million gallons of aviation fuel it had been carrying, our family history would have been somewhat different! But, Richard survived the war and so I'm here to pass on the story. :-)
Boudicca's captain undoubtedly had various things to concern him during our voyage, but submarine launched torpedoes was fortunately not one of them and Boudicca sailed safely on to the Straits of Gibraltar which we passed through sometime very early in the morning of the 9th February. Here is our best view of 'The Rock' as we passed on our way to Cadiz:
Having previously checked the course with Capt. Degerlund, we'd established that we'd get relatively close to a point in the Mediterranean where, on the 14th May 1944, our (my four siblings and myself) family history might have been significantly changed.
From our (see above) father, Richard Lyne's, autobiography:
The weather on the night of 13/14 May 1944 was calm. It had been a hot night, never really dark. Richard had been on the middle watch in the radio cabin. There had been the usual general bulletins from Rugby, messages from Malta and Gibraltar for other convoys, some weather exchanges between neutrals, silence from the Commodore and escort. No sightings of aircraft, merchant raiders or submarines had been reported in the area.
This latter was not surprising: the Admiralty had notified all ships during the outward convoy that all U-boats had been cleared from the Mediterranean, and shortly after leaving Augusta the Commodore had confirmed this. Coming up on the bridge at 0400 to begin the morning watch Richard saw that dawn had already broken, and the rising sun promised yet another fine day. He was now on visual signals duties, which involved sending and receiving messages by Aldis lamp and helping out with flag signals as required. The Captain, First Officer, helmsman and two seamen were already on the bridge but another pair of eyes was always useful. The sea was smooth. The convoy ploughed steadily on. The continuous drone of the engines was soothing.
“TORPEDO ON THE STARBOARD BOW!”
The lookout’s shout caused all eyes to swivel. There it was: some two cables away a silvery fish was streaking towards them, a powerful miniwash of bubbles following. A column of ships lay between it and the G. S. Walden.
“BRIDGE: DOWN!”
Richard registered the Captain’s shout and threw himself to the deck. As he lay prone a series of thoughts ran almost simultaneously through his mind: Mummy Mary Dad my white shorts will get dirty the wheel swinging like that is rather unseamanlike soon there won’t be any wheel no ship either no life I’m twenty perhaps I shall find out what it’s all about hope it will be sudden maybe the other ships will be hit instead of us..
RRRROOOOOMMM!
The bow of the ship reared up into the air. Richard’s stomach pressed painfully against his spine. Shrieking steel plates clashed and screamed as they tore apart and scraped together. Twisted metal curved down into the sea and up into the sky. Pieces of ship fell into the sea; six inch rivets clanged onto the deck like hailstones. The ship fell back into the water. The sea poured into the forepart. Ballast spurted out from fractured tanks. The ship began to settle down by the head. Already the fo’c’sle head was under water. The bridge party picked themselves up from the deck of the wheelhouse. The helmsman seized the wheel. The Captain dusted down his uniform. The klaxon started sounding.
“STOP ENGINES!”
Derrrinng. Derrrinng.
“QUARTERMASTER: MIDSHIPS”
“Midships, Sir”
Derrrinng. Derrrinng.
“Mr Corser: reports of casualties please. Prepare extra sick bay spaces.” “Well, gentlemen, we appear to have most of our ship still. But there may be more where that came from. Sparky?” Richard switched on the Aldis lamp and aimed the sight at the Commodore’s ship two columns away. “Yes, Sir.” “Make to Commodore: torpedo strike starboard bow damage unknown...” Richard began calling. An answering flash appeared. “And hoist: My engines are stopped.” With his other hand Richard reached into the flag locker. “Mr McMillan: radios OK?” “Yessir” “Send U-boat warning to all ships!” “Aye, aye, Sir.
Chief: engine report, please”. “Engines OK. Electrics, hydraulics, steam, hoses, pneumatics all OK. And fuel undamaged. Sir.” “Thank you, Chief.
Mr Lyne, where the bloody hell are those flags? We’ll have Immingham up our backside in a minute.” “Aloft now, Sir.” “OK, Sparky. Aerial damage?” “Both aerials OK, Sir.”
“Very well... Mr Harper: structural report, please. Tanks, lids, valves, pipes, spars, struts, bulkheads, doors, catwalk.. .
Mr Corser:” “Sir” “Take over Mr Harper’s watch until the forenoon please.
Mr Mansell:” “Sir?” “Prepare for ballast transfer aft.” “Aye, aye, Sir.. .
Bosun?” “Sir” “Two working parties please. You take forward damage, I’ll check valves.”
“Signal from Commodore: fall out from convoy await instructions from escort report your speed good luck.”
“Make to Commodore: estimate three knots maximum thank you.”
Had the attack been on the way to Bari in Italy before the G.S. Walden had discharged the million gallons of aviation fuel it had been carrying, our family history would have been somewhat different! But, Richard survived the war and so I'm here to pass on the story. :-)
Boudicca's captain undoubtedly had various things to concern him during our voyage, but submarine launched torpedoes was fortunately not one of them and Boudicca sailed safely on to the Straits of Gibraltar which we passed through sometime very early in the morning of the 9th February. Here is our best view of 'The Rock' as we passed on our way to Cadiz:
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