Auke Visser's International Esso Tankers site | home
IN DEADLY COLD
SS W. L. Steed
The second Standard Oil Company of New Jersey tanker lost in World War II was the W. L. Steed — torpedoed, then sunk by shellfire, February 2, 1942.
For several reasons, when the available facts were finally known, the human tragedy involved in the sinking of this ship seemed even worse than that of the Allan Jackson, which had been torpedoed on January 18.
In the first place, the casualties of the W. L. Steed were greater than those of the Allan Jackson. Although 22 men were lost in the sinking of the Jackson, there were 13 survivors of her crew of 35. Of the Steed's crew of 38, only 4 ultimately survived. When each of three of her lifeboats was found by a different passing ship — one on February 4, another on February 6, the last on February 12 — only 6 men, in all three boats, were still living. Two of them died later, one in a hospital, the other on a rescue ship. The remaining 32 men, including the occupants of the fourth lifeboat which was never positively identified, were mostly ill clad, due to haste in abandoning the ship.
Exposed to heavy snowfall and freezing weather — in open boats tossed by the waves of a winter storm and lashed by icy winds — they perished one by one.
Fifty-one Days Later
Many weeks passed before news was received of all four of the W. L. Steed's lifeboats. The few survivors picked up knew the fate of the men in only two of the boats. On March 25 — fifty-one days after the disaster occurred — the final facts became known in Washington. The War Shipping Administration received through the State Department a report from the American Consulate General at Cape Town, Africa, concerning one more lifeboat. The only man found alive in the boat died aboard the rescue ship and was buried at sea.
Even then, the fourth lifeboat had not been surely accounted for. But in the general vicinity of the position given by the radio operator of the Steed a lifeboat containing "a number of bodies clad in dungarees" was sighted by a South American steamship
which docked at an Atlantic port. Officials of the Third Naval District who disclosed the incident said: "The steamer was lowering a boat to make an investigation when the periscope of a submarine suddenly appeared above the surface. The steamship
immediately got under way and reported the situation to the Navy." Apparently the ship's message brought immediate action, for it was further announced that a patrol bomber arrived within a short time and escorted the vessel to port.
Thus there was a possibility but no assurance that the missing lifeboat of the W. L. Steed had been sighted.
Chief Engineer Ernest G. Bornheimer — appointed vacation relieving chief engineer of the Esso fleet on October 31, 1941 — had been assigned to the W. L. Steed as extra chief engineer for this voyage. Mr. Bornheimer died of exposure in one of the Steed's lifeboats.
The SS W. L. Steed was built in 1918 by the Bethlehem Shipbuilding Corporation, Ltd., Fore River Plant, at Quincy, Mass. She was a sistership of the George W. Barnes.
A single-screw vessel of 9,750 deadweight tons capacity on international summer draft of 26 feet, 614 inches, she had an overall length of 431 feet, 10 inches, a length between perpendiculars of 415 feet, a moulded breadth of 56 feet, and a depth moulded of 32 feet, 9 inches. With a cargo carrying capacity of 78,310 barrels, she had an assigned pumping rate of 3,500 barrels an hour.
Her triple expansion engine, with steam supplied by three Babcock & Wilcox water-tube boilers in stalled in October, 1941, developed 2,800 indicated horsepower and gave her a speed of 10.2 knots.
At the outbreak of the war in Europe, the W. L. Steed, in need of repair, had been tied up at the Ore Dock at Constable Hook, Bayonne, N. J., since June 30, 1939. On September 9, within a week after war was declared, she was ordered to proceed to the
Bethlehem yard at Mariner's Harbor, Staten Island.
With repairs completed, the W. L. Steed left New York on October 4, bound for Aransas Pass, Texas, under the command of Captain Lawrence J. Hasse, with her engineroom in charge of Chief Engineer Peter V. Karls. At Aransas Pass she loaded her first
wartime cargo, 68,169 barrels of West Texas crude for discharge at New York. During the rest of the year 1939, her voyages were also coastwise.
In 1940, after 14 voyages — of which only a few were foreign — she was in the tied-up fleet in the Patuxent River from July 4 to October 18. After repairs, she sailed from Baltimore on November 1 for Caripito, on the first of three additional voyages that year.
In 1941, although the W. L. Steed had a repair period of 40 days to install the new boilers previously referred to, she made 22 voyages, largely coastwise but including trips to Havana, Las Piedras, Aruba, and Cartagena.
Her wartime masters were Captains Lawrence J. Hasse, John J. Cienciva, Walter B. McCarthy, Arnulf Hartman, Frank E. Wirtanen, and Harold G. McAvenia.
During the same period her engineroom was in charge of Chief Engineers Peter V. Karls, Thomas J. O'Brien, Carl M. Andrus, and Walter M. Christiansen.
The voyages of the W. L. Steed during the war, not including her last, were as follows:
Leaving Norfolk, Va., on January 14, 1942, the W. L. Steed, commanded by Captain Harold G. McAvenia, with her engineroom in charge of Chief Engineer Walter M. Christiansen, proceeded without incident to Cartagena, where she arrived January 21 and loaded 65,936 barrels of Colombian crude oil.
To quote the statement of her only surviving licensed officer, Second Mate Sydney Wayland:
"This vessel proceeded from Cartagena, Colombia, on January 23, with a full cargo, bound for an un disclosed destination. After calling at Key West for Navy orders, we proceeded north through the Florida Straits.
Submarine Alarm
"The weather was fair during the first few days until a southeasterly wind prevailed with heavy seas.
"On January 30, in the early afternoon, while I was on watch, the lookout reported a ship on the port bow. This ship appeared to be a fishing craft, but after a good look at her I notified Captain McAvenia, who came up at once and decided she was a submarine. He ordered the general alarm sounded, with all hands standing by for orders as the ship's course was changed. As the submarine disappeared in the distance, the captain put the ship back on her original course and the crew were dismissed from their stations."
In the joint report of the three other survivors, Boatswain Joaquin R. Brea, Able Seaman Louis Ham, and Able Seaman Ralph Mazzucco, the incident was described as follows:
"The submarine was observed at about two points off our port bow and about four to five miles away.
"Captain McAvenia immediately came on the bridge and put the rudder hard right, veering to starboard and shaping course in a southeasterly direction for about one-half to three-quarters of an hour.
"At this time, Ralph Mazzucco was at the wheel, having just relieved Louis Hartz. The captain ordered the rest of the crew to their respective boat stations, ' except the engineroom crew, who stayed below on duty.
"All lifeboats were made ready for launching, and life preservers were donned in readiness for any emergency.
"A radio message was sent by the captain and about an hour later a plane was observed overhead, presumably in answer to our wireless message."
Saw Suspicious Light
Concerning the weather, the joint report stated: "At about midnight on the 31st of January, the weather became boisterous, with heavy seas. There after the Steed resumed her northerly course, with the rough weather continuing. Heavy seas were shipped,
resulting in deck damage."
To return to Second Mate Wayland's report:
"On February 1, at about 7 p.m., a suspicious light was sighted aft. I was then off duty, but on seeing this light I reported to the bridge, where Captain McAvenia and Chief Mate Nilsson were already aware of it, taking the usual precautions. When all danger appeared to be passed, the ship was put back on her course.
Torpedoed
"On February 2, at about 12:45 p.m., I was on watch pacing the bridge, with Able Seaman Jose C. Arroyo at the wheel, Able Seaman Louis Hartz on lookout, and Ordinary Seaman James Erdos looking abaft.
"Without warning of any kind the ship was suddenly struck by a torpedo on her starboard side, forward of the bridge, at her No. 3 tank, setting the oil contained in that tank afire.
"At that time the vessel was proceeding generally in a northeasterly direction, about 80 to 90 miles off the Delaware Capes. The sea was bad, with a strong northwesterly wind, and we had been unable to take a sun position at 8 a.m. or at noon, due to the over
cast. It was snowing hard, making the visibility two miles at best.
"The W. L. Steed was running under sealed orders, and the master was the only one on the ship who had full information as to the ship's position. From my own observations, however, the vessel was about 85 miles off shore.
Leaving the Ship
"The next thing I heard was the engine being stopped by the captain in the pilot house and the general alarm sounded. I immediately reported to the captain, whom I met coming out of the pilot house with the ship's position, which he was taking to the radio operator. I later found out that this message was duly sent and picked up by an Imperial Oil tanker that went down one day thereafter.
"The master ordered me to get the two amidship boats ready for lowering. I carried out these orders by first clearing the starboard boat. Then the captain came along carrying a briefcase and ordered me to proceed to the portside boat, which I also lowered away and launched with the assistance of a fireman.
The captain came back again and instructed me to go down the fall, which I did, with the fireman. Then we both helped the following men to slide down a rope into the lifeboat: Radio Operator Francis E. Siltz, Chief Engineer Walter M. Christiansen, Extra
Chief Engineer Ernest G. Bornheimer, First Assistant Engineer William R. Burrell, Steward George Zenos, Pumpman Walter A. Tulane, Able Seaman Jose C. Arroyo, Ordinary Seaman James Erdos, Captain Harold G. McAvenia, Chief Mate Einar A. Nilsson, Wiper David A. Field, Fireman Ralph A. Bone, and two men from below deck whose names I do not recall — making fifteen men altogether, including myself.
"All four lifeboats were launched. My boat, No. 2, was the last to leave the ship and everyone on the ship managed to get into a lifeboat. No one went down with the ship, but after the night of February 2, I never saw any of the other lifeboats.
"We pulled clear of the ship, heading northwest into the sea and wind. I saw two other boats at a distance pulling clear of the stern of the vessel.
Sighted Two U-Boats
"This all happened within about ten minutes from the time the torpedo struck the vessel.
"At that time a periscope was sighted about three lengths away off the starboard side of our lifeboat. The submarine came to the surface on our port side after going around our bow. Two men came out on the conning tower to look us over as the U-boat proceeded toward the stern of the ship without interfering with us.
"I also distinctly saw another submarine on the surface proceeding from the port quarter to the star board quarter of the W. L. Steed. This submarine started to shell the tanker's after-part, but at that time all boats were well clear.
"The vessel soon caught fire and wa$ burning fiercely on the poop deck until she finally blew up, about 40 minutes after being struck by the torpedo."
The following account is from a personal experience story written for this history in June, 1945, by former Able Seaman Ralph Mazzucco:
"The torpedo struck the Steed on the starboard side in way of No. 1 and No. 2 main tanks and the vessel began to sink by the head. The general alarm was sounded and the crew proceeded to their respective boat stations. At that time I was sleeping in my bunk, aft on the starboard side. When the ship was hit I was thrown clear out of the bunk to the deck. I immediately got to my feet and while dressing noticed that the after part of the ship was covered with dense black smoke. The alarm bell was still ringing.
"I was one of the men assigned to No. 3 boat on the starboard side aft and we had difficulty in launching it. When I arrived, Third Mate Cecil A. Ezell was at the after fall and Able Seaman Raymond R. Burkholder at the forward fall, starting to lower away the boat. Burkholder accidentally took too many turns off the cleat, causing the forward end of the boat to drop. Then the line to the fall jammed around the cleat on the davit and the bow of the sharply slanting lifeboat was hanging down, about three feet from the
water. Ordinary Seaman Arthur L. Chandler was in the boat at the time and nearly fell out. I jumped into the stern of the boat, slid down to the forward end, and tried to jam the forward fall with my hands so that it could be released from above.
"As Burkholder could not get the line free from the cleat, I got the axe, stowed in the forward end of the boat, to cut the lines, but the axe slipped from my hand into the sea. I then tried to climb up to the stern to get the other axe; the boat was still suspended, with the stern high up. As I reached the end of the lifeboat the third mate let the fall go and the boat dropped into the water, all but the bow. Bos'n Brea then slid down the forward fall, followed by Hartz and Burkholder."
"By this time," Mazzucco added, "the third mate and other men had gone to the port side of the ship. The bos'n cut the fall loose with his knife while Chandler, Hartz. and Burkholder grabbed the oars. I took the steering oar and we proceeded to row away from the ship."
To resume the joint statement of Brea, Hartz, and Mazzucco, concerning No. 3 lifeboat:
"All boats were lowered and, as far as we know, all hands in Nos. 1, 2, and 4 boats got safely away. We went under the stern of the W. L. Steed. As we came over to the port side of the ship, we saw three life boats close by. The four boats then proceeded to
gether to head into the wind in a northwest direction, but we were unable to keep up with the others.
Tanker Shelled, Then Sank
"Just then a large submarine, estimated at about 2,000 tons, painted a light grey, and, from what we could see, about 175 to 200 feet in length, with two guns — one forward and one aft of her conning tower — and with no identification number or symbol, appeared on the port side of the Steed. Men came out of the conning tower and immediately manned the guns; the forward one appeared to be a 4-inch and the aft one a trifle smaller. They started shelling the W. L. Steed throughout.
"We counted 17 shots in all. In about threequarters of an hour to an hour we saw the vessel settle by the head and then disappear. Thereafter the sub marine shaped her course towards our boats, but soon veered off and proceeded in a southwesterly di rection."
Men Died, One After Another
To continue Wayland's statement:
"Weather conditions were fierce, with a snowstorm and dangerous northwest seas running. Everybody in the boat was suffering from the cold, due mostly to lack of clothes.
"The men in lifeboat No. 2 died one after another until February 5, when Chief Mate Nilsson and my self were the only ones alive in the boat.
"On the morning of February 6, Nilsson showed signs of weakness and extreme fatigue. At about 9:30 a.m. I sighted a steamer coming close to us and I made every effort, waving and hailing, to get her attention, as she seemed to go past, but finally she hove around, headed for us, and picked us up at about 10:30 a.m.
"When we arrived alongside this vessel, the SS Hartlepool, her second mate and a couple of able bodied seamen came into our lifeboat and examined it. Mr. Nilsson and I were taken aboard the Hartlepool with the aid of ropes tied around our waists. The boat was then cast adrift because the captain was concerned with the safety of his ship.
"The Hartlepool landed us at Halifax on February 9 and both Chief Mate Nilsson and I were sent to the hospital, where Mr. Nilsson died the following day. I left the hospital on February 28, after recovering from the pains and suffering experienced."
Difficulties in No. 3 Boat
To quote further from Mazzucco's personal story:
"Finding it impossible to catch up with the other lifeboats, we started to put out our sea anchor. The canvas carried away and we hauled in the frame. At this time we noticed that our water keg was empty. When the boat was suspended slantwise, the water keg got loose and rolled down to the bow, breaking the spigot and letting the water out. We made a sea anchor out of the water keg, first chopping a hole on the top and a hole on each side near the top. We had about six feet of 2-inch Manila line which we passed through the two holes on the sides of the keg and secured with a square knot. We then made the line for the sea anchor fast to the bight of the 2-inch Manila line.
"After finishing this makeshift sea anchor, we transferred all the heavy weights to the forward end of the boat to get the head down and lighten the stern. This worked very nicely and we started to bail the water out of the boat, hoping we would be picked up
by some naval vessel.
"It was getting darker and we couldn't see any of the other lifeboats. The sea was running heavier and the weather was getting intensely cold. We stretched our lifeboat cover over the two center thwarts to protect us from the wind. After it grew dark we lighted
some of our distress flares in the hope of being rescued. We saw that one of the other boats shot a pistol flare. As we started to row in that direction a big sea came over our boat and washed overboard all but three of our oars, also carrying away our rudder, tiller, sails, and boat hooks, and filling the boat half full of water. Using our buckets and scoop and even drinking cups, we proceeded to bail the boat out. By this time we were all wet to the skin.
"After struggling a couple of hours we had the boat bailed out and then went under the canvas boat cover for protection from the heavy spray and strong wind. We kept talking and joking through the night in a sustained effort to keep up our morale. Finally
Chandler lay down on a life preserver and fell asleep. The next morning, about 8 o'clock, I tried to wake him up and realized that he was dead. We carried him to the forward end of the boat.
"The same morning Burkholder became delirious. Shortly after noon he died and was also carried for ward.
Made Fire in Lifeboat
"It was so bitterly cold that we decided to start a fire. The lamp in the boat being broken, we poured oil from it on some wood we had chopped up and placed in the water bucket. The fire burned steadily and helped to dry our wet clothes and thaw us out to some extent. Perhaps it saved our lives. By cutting up the thwarts, stern sheets, forward sheets, bottom board, and one of the oars, we managed to keep the fire going the rest of the day and during the night, until we were picked up by a Canadian auxiliary cruiser, HMCS Alcantara.
Rescue
"The morning we were picked up I came from under the boat cover to go to the fore sheets, to see if I could chop any more wood for the fire. When I stood up I sighted the Canadian ship! Quickly I grabbed a hand flare and lighted it. The bos'n gave me another and I waved both flares wildly in the air to attract attention. We were thankful when the cruiser turned around and came slowly toward us, cautious for fear of possible submarine attack. They made a complete circle around us and then stopped about 200 feet away. I'll never forget that scene. The bluejackets on the cruiser were lined up along the deck with heaving lines, ready to throw them to us. We managed to pull alongside the ship and caught two of the lines; I made one line fast to the forward thwart, then took the other, secured it around the bos'n, and sent him up the scramble net. The next heaving line I fastened to Hartz, who was hauled
up. Taking the papers of the dead seamen, I climbed up myself and was assisted on board.
"We were carried to the sick bay, undressed, and put to bed. The doctor examined us and said our hands and feet were pretty well frozen. The captain of the Alcantara questioned us about the submarine and the rest of the crew members. He had already
sent a message to Halifax, N. S., to notify them we would be landed there. We arrived at Halifax on February 7 and were questioned by the naval authorities and the consul. Then we were placed in the custody of the Standard Oil agent, who arranged
our transportation. We arrived in New York on February 11."
Last Information
The last information about the casualties of the W. L. Steed was transmitted to Mr. B. B. Howard by the War Shipping Administration in a letter dated March 25, 1942:
"Through State Department channels we have received the following message from the Consulate General, Cape Town, dated Marrch 12, reading as follows:
'On March 12 the British vessel Raby Castle arrived here and Captain H. V. Wightman reported that he sighted on February 12 a lifeboat belonging to the W. L. Steed, Standard Oil tanker. There were four men in the lifeboat and the location was 37 degrees 38 minutes north, 68 degrees 33 minutes west. Of the four men only one was alive, Elmer E. Maihiot, Jr. This seaman died on February 15 and was buried at sea. The other three were not identified.' "
The "seaman" of the IT. L. Steed who died on February 15 was her second assistant engineer.
Captain Harold G. McAvenia entered the Company's service as an ordinary seaman on August 19, 1918, and was promoted to third mate on January 14, 1921. A master since June 20, 1933, he was as signed to the W. L. Steed on October 9, 1941. Chief Engineer Walter M. Christiansen joined the Company as a third assistant engineer on February 23, 1929. He was promoted to first assistant engineer on June 22, 1933, and to chief engineer on January 1, 1941, being assigned to the W. L. Steed on January 16 of that year.
Chief Engineer Ernest G. Bornheimer entered the Company's service as an oiler on October 23, 1926. He was promoted to third assistant engineer on November 23, 1926, and to chief engineer on October 2, 1937.
As a tribute to Captain McAvenia, his widow, Mrs. Harold G. McAvenia, was selected as the sponsor of the SS Esso Columbia (second vessel so named), launched on September 7, 1942, at Chester, Penna.
This ship, sold to the Navy when she was delivered on October 12, 1942, was renamed the USS Atascosa.
The Liberty ship Walter M. Christiansen, named in honor of Chief Engineer Christiansen of the W. L. Steed, was sponsored by his widow, Mrs. Russell Knapp, at Jacksonville, Fla., on December 16, 1944.
In honor of Chief Engineer Bornheimer, who was a lieutenant commander in the Naval Reserve, the Navy Department selected his widow, Mrs. Ernest G. Bornheimer, to christen the Navy cargo ship USS Media when she was launched at Camden, N. J., on
August 28, 1943.
The Liberty ship Francis E. Siltz, named in honor of Radio Operator Siltz of the W. L. Steed, was sponsored by his mother, Mrs. Thomas W. Siltz, at Houston, Texas, on February 24, 1945.
Robert T. Kyle, lost in one of the lifeboats of the W. L. Steed, was a younger brother of Captain John S. Kyle, Special Assistant, Operating Division, Marine Department.
Lost on the "W. L. Steed" -February 2, 1942 :
Survivors of the "W. L. Steed" :
|