Harold L. Dunne
Chief
Electrician - USS Kanawha
Feb. 1918 - Submarine Ho.
Upon the
rocks of Chebuoto Head, the light-keeper, glass in hand, studied the
movements of a curious formation of vessels that slowly steamed out of
Halifax Harbor, to the North of his observation post. He recognized the odd
fighting tops of the Cruiser Cochran of "His Majesty's Navy," admired the
beautiful lines of the White Star Liner "Baltic," to the East he saw the
huge "Westmoreland" and squat "Ceramic." The Twin Russian Steamers "Kursk"
and the "Dwinsk," steamed into line past the Ceramic and the "Scotian,"
while the "Orita" gave way to the more familiar "Tunisian."
Two
vessels to the North, then attracted his attention, one was gorgeous with a
coat of camouflage, this was the "Tuscania" and the other was a long
low-lying mass, with two high mast and bristling with guns, fore and aft,
was the U.S. Navy Tanker "Kanawha." Ah, little did he realize that these two
ships would make history before they returned to the Western shores again.
Little did he realize that one would never again sail the seas in her coat
of many colors. After the preliminary signals, the convoy steamed out of
sight, headed into the East, the region of wars and battles.
On the
Tuscania stood the flower of American Manhood, taking their last sight of
land, 2,352 men from New England and New York, bound for the trenches of
France. On the Baltic were 3,000 Canadian troops, all on their way "Over
There" in answer to the call of their mother country. Food filled the holds
of the other ships, but the huge Westmoreland carried beneath her hatches ,
ton's and ton's of T.N.T. the deadliest explosives known to warfare. In the
Kanawha's deep tanks she carried millions of gallons of crude oil, the
"Milk" for her children, the deadly little "Destroyer Fleet" that chases the
"Sub's" for Uncle Sam in European waters.
On and
on, the convoy steamed, through day's of blinding rain, then gale after gale
thundered down from the North-West to try the gallant hearts of those men
who go down to the sea in ships. Then out of the mourning mist, seven days
later, came a fleet of British Destroyers to escort the convoy into port,
thru the danger zone. "Near our journeys end" is the thought that travels
thru each man's mind as he sees these small wicked boats.
Life was
now a series of nervous shocks with periods of short restless sleep. All
eyes were turned upon the waste of tossing waters, searching for that shark
of the sea, the German U-boat. Then came the 5th of February, and down from
the "Crow's Nest" on the foremost mast, through a speaking tube, came the
welcome words "Land Ho" and the words passed like lighting, rapidly
spreading all over the Kanawha, to gun crews tired of their weary vigil,
unending and unceasing. It came to the "Galley" and "Chips" Cassidy left his
"spuds and beans" to see the welcome sight. It penetrated the quarters of
the "Chiefs" where they were gathered "Shorty" Gorton of the Pay Department,
"Hash" Keeley and "Stew" Cooper, the two Commissary Stewards, "Boilers"
Doods and "Scupp" Brown, "Whitey" Wadsworth and "Tomatoes" Driscoll, "Boats"
Dodge and the author of these lines (Sparks Dunne).
The
Gunner Doyle entered and invited me to inspect the Gun-sight light and with
the usual persiflage I left our quarters and went forward to inspect the
lights for the night. On the left, lay a large high peak of land: this I
knew to be Island of Cantyre. On the right the dark frowning cliffs of
Ulster, Ireland. The North Channel narrowed dead ahead of us. The beacon of
Cantyre began to flash it's message of warning to the ships as we entered
the channel. My inspection over, I returned to our quarters and found the
"gang" in an animated conversation regarding the trip. We all hazarded
predictions as to the port of arrival, some saying Liverpool, others
Lamlash, Scotland.
Then as
dusk began to give away to night, "Scupp" Brown remarked that the trip had
been tame and I was about to say that our first trip was the hottest when
"Hash" Keenley put up his hand and said "there goes a gun." All of the men
jumped to their feet, grabbed their sea clothes and in hot haste ran to
their battle stations. As I ran up the ladder to the "Bridge" I could see
the Tuscania, which was about one hundred yards ahead of us, give a lurch
and then twist to Starboard. A muffled boom came to my ears and our skipper
said in a tense voice "she's been torpedoed." The lights flashed on,
flooding the Tuscania's sides and we could see the boats being lowered and
the troops lining the side and putting their lifebelts on. Up from the
Bridge of the Tuscania went four red rockets, and our skipper gave the
orders "Full Speed Ahead" and "Full Right Rudder" and away we steamed past
the stricken ship which had now assumed a dangerous list and was sinking
rapidly.
Mr.
Leerberg, our Executive Officer, cursed the Germans in seven languages, and
Ensign Sowden murmured a prayer to the effect that the appearance of a "Sub"
would please him greatly, if he could get just one crack at it. Little
paymaster Cristie stood beside me gazing at the sight. Soon the Skipper was
heard hurling orders, after orders, to the various fire-control men who
stood by the voice tubes that lead to the various parts of the ship.
All gun
crews stood riveted to their stations waiting for the attack which all
anticipated at any moment, for the Germans were sure to try to torpedo
another ship if they possibly could. Up from the wireless room rushed the
junior radio operator, in his hand a copy of the message that just flashed
thru the air from the stricken Tuscania; S.O.S. S.O.S. I am torpedoed and
sinking fast.
We
watched the men as they slid down the sides of the gallant ship; saw the
figures as they leaped into the water and swimming gained the rafts and
boats. How the men displayed their wonderful manhood and courage in singing
that popular song "O, Joy, O, Boy, Where do we go from here?" as the ship
dipped lower and lower into the sea.
A Chief
beside me curses in his rage the orders that forces us to speed away instead
of turning and rescuing those brave boys. But it is the strict rule of all
convoy's that the other ships must speed from the danger and let the
Destroyers pick up the survivors. So we sped ahead, fifteen knots an hour,
from the scene, and we watched the Tuscania until darkness hid her from our
sight. Yet we did not allow our senses to dull as the minutes passed without
a sign of the submarine. All eyes were fastened on the water for a sign of
those sharks of the sea. And well it was we watched, for just twenty minutes
later a voice screamed out "There she is, Submarine Ho" and on the
Forecastle the figure of Phlegar, one of the hospital orderlies pointed to
the conning tower of a submarine, it slowly rose to the surface, ten yards
from our Starboard Bow. Point blank it layed there and point blank I hurled
the orders over the voice tube to Edwards and his gun crew on the after
number 3 gun. Crash after crash echoed from the cliffs of the Irish Coast,
and crash after crash, the submarine shook from the impact as the four inch
shells pierced her vitals. "Good," I heard the Skipper murmur when each
shell hit it's bull's eye, and as Edwards fired each shell he sent it on
it's mission of destruction with a "Take That and That."
On we
sped up to the Firth of Clyde until we left the convoy and settled down
behind the protecting rocks of Ailan Craige. Many brave boys from New
England and New York passed away that night. They faced death with a song
and died as American's should. All glory to these men, all glory to the
Mothers who bore them. For those who have gone "West" over the "Great
Divide" may they rest in peace beneath the waves for "Dulce et decorum est
pro patris mori."
Harold L. Dunne
Chief Electrician - USS Kanawha
Note: The German U-boat that sunk the Tuscania
had never received so much as a scratch during WWI, and it also survived the
war. So I guess it is a bit of a mystery as to what the Kanawha was shooting
at. We know by that time the Kanawha had travel some distance from the
Tuscania, so if they sank a sub, I ponder to wonder which sub it was.
