She had to relive the most humiliating moment of her life.
27
South of Iceland
Monday, October 20, 1941
An eerie stillness hung in the frozen air, and Jim gripped the lifeline. Oil slicks stained the water black, and wreckage littered the waves. Something macabre inside him scrutinized each lump in the water to see if it was a body. He’d already seen two.
Convoy SC-48 had passed through these seas on her way to England. From October 15 to October 19, U-boats had sunk nine freighters and tankers, a British destroyer, and a British frigate. Three American destroyers had been diverted from escorting Convoy ON-24 to help. On October 17, a U-boat torpedoed the USSKearny. Although she remained afloat, eleven American sailors had perished, the first to die in this war.
Jim gave his head a sharp shake and moved on. He was scheduled to relieve the torpedo officer, Ens. Reggie Parkinson, for the afternoon watch at 1200. While waiting at the Mid-Ocean Meeting Point for Convoy ON-26 to arrive from Liverpool, theAtwoodhad been sent to search for survivors from the slaughter of SC-48. They hadn’t found a soul, and the crew tensed, scouting for U-boats.
Jim headed amidships, where the quintuple torpedo tube mount sat between the two funnels like five fingers, ready to point to starboard or port to fire at enemy vessels.
Reggie waved Jim over with his customary grin on his long face, and he briefed Jim on his station’s condition and readiness. Since U-boats often remained in the area after a battle to prey on rescue ships, theAtwoodstood at Condition Two, prepared for attack. Like Nehemiah’s men, they had one hand at work and one ready to fight.
Reggie motioned toward the stern. “I was about to check on the fellows down at the depth charge racks and the Y-gun.”
“I’ll take care of that. Go get some rest.” Jim clapped him on the back and sent him on his way. With calm seas for now, the men were stocking up on food and sleep.
“Ahoy!” Up on the wing of the bridge, a lookout yelled and pointed.
Jim’s heart jolted, and he followed the lookout’s line of sight to port. Without binoculars, all he could see was a gray shape in the water. Wreck or U-boat?
On the bridge, Durant joined the lookout, peered through his binoculars, then returned to the pilothouse.
The general quarters gong sounded, and Jim froze along with everyone else on board, waiting for the signal to specify the drill.
The bugle sounded “Assembly,” and the boatswain’s mate’s pipe sounded “Away fire and rescue party.” A rescue operation.
TheAtwoodmade a sharp turn to port, heading for the hulk. The harder Jim squinted, the more he could make out what looked to be the upside-down stern of a ship. The rescue party gathered by the whaleboat, and the deck gang prepared to lower the boat by its davits to the water.
Jim made his way to the stern. He didn’t have specified duties during a rescue drill, but he needed to make sure the depth charges were ready in case of attack.
He passed the Y-gun, already loaded with two 300-pound depth charges, which could be propelled starboard and port. The gun crew was alert and ready.
Down at the stern, 600-pound depth charges lay in two angled racks. Hydraulic controls allowed a man on the bridge to flip the release lever and drop one “ash can” at a time.
The talker was speaking into his microphone, so Jim joined him. He saluted Jim. “Good day, sir. The captain wants us to prepare to drop a pattern at 100 feet, 150, 200, and 250, at five-second intervals.”
Jim returned the salute. “Very well. Tell him the Y-gun is loaded and ready.”
“Aye aye, sir.” He waved over the petty officer, Marvin Hill, and relayed the pattern.
Hill passed on the order. Two seamen got to work with special wrenches to turn dials on the ends of the ash cans to set the depth at which they’d explode.
“Hey, everyone!” one of the Y-gun crewmen shouted. “Survivors.”
Jim jogged over to the rail. Sure enough, half a dozen men sat on what remained of the stern of their ship, waving frantically. “Thank God.” Jim smiled at the glimmer of hope in the middle of the destruction.
TheAtwoodslowed to a stop, and the whaleboat swung out on its davits, loaded with the rescue party, blankets, and rum. Durant’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “This is the USSAtwood. Stay where you are until the rescue boat comes to you.”
But one of the men stood and jumped into the water.
“No!” Jim cried, echoed by the men around him. The man would die in under twenty minutes in the frigid water, and several minutes would pass before the whaleboat could row to him.
“No!” Durant barked into the loudspeaker. “Do not come to us. We will come to you.”
