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RESCUE BY U-BOAT
SS M.F Elliott
The Esso tanker M.F. Elliott was torpedoed without warning on the afternoon of June 3, 1942, about 150 miles northwest of Trinidad. Sinking in 6 minutes the vessel capsized two lifeboats, which had been launched but were not yet clear of the ship, and carried 13 members of the crew to their deaths. Only one body was recovered. With a merchant crew of 38 officers and men and a U.S. armed guard of 7, the ship's total complement was 45, of whom 32 survived - 25 members of the merchant crew and the 7 Navy gunners.
Most of these men were able to get aboard the four life rafts, all of which had been launched; they were rescued the next morning by the destroyer USS Tarbell. Three men spent the night in the water, supported by their lifebelts, and were also picked up by the Tarbell on the morning of June 4. Able Seaman Raymond Smithson and Ordinary Seaman Cornelius F. O'Connor had the extraordinary experience - from which this chapter takes its name - of being rescued by the Nazi submarine, held for three hours, and then set adrift in a small boat from which they were rescued, five days later, for the second time, by the Brazilian tanker SS Santa Maria, which finally set them ashore at Santos, Brazil.
The SS M.F. Elliott was built in 1921 by the Moore Shipbuilding Company at Oakland, California. She was a sistership of the Thomas H. Wheeler.
A single-screw vessel of 10,450 deadweight tons capacity on an international summer draft of 27 feet, 314 inches, the M.F. Elliott had an overall length of 438 feet, 614 inches, a length between perpendiculars of 425 feet, a moulded breadth of 57 feet, and a depth moulded of 33 feet. With a cargo carrying capacity of 79,939 barrels, she had an assigned pumping rate of 4,000 barrels an hour.
Her triple expansion engine, supplied with steam by three Scotch boilers, developed 3,200 indicated horsepower and ,gave her a classification certified speed of 10.6 knots.
World War II loomed close as the M.F. Elliott
sailed August 25, 1939 in ballast from Hamburg, Germany. She arrived at Corpus Christi September 17 and there loaded her first wartime cargo - 70,912 barrels of heating oil for New York. Her master was Captain Karl M. Larsen and Chief Engineer Joseph F. Lafo was in charge of her engineroom.
The ship remained in the dangerous coastwise and Caribbean trades until the fateful month of June, 1942 when, like so many other Allied vessels, she fell victim to the submarine menace. She had been time chartered to the War Shipping Administration on April 20, 1942.
The transportation record of the M.F. Elliott from the start of European hostilities, September 3, 1939, to her sinking on June 3, 1942 was in summary as follows:
The M.F. Elliott was commanded during the war years by Captains Karl M. Larsen, Ralph E. Thomas, Peder Niel-sen, Alfred J. Thorson, Patrick S. Mahony, Alexander J. Zafiros, and Harold I. Cook.
In charge of the engineroom during this period were Chief Engineers Joseph F. Lato, Alvah B. Strout, Peter Olsen, Laurence B. Jones, Harry R. Peck, and Adolf Anderson.
Leaving Newport News in ballast on Mav 19, 1942 the M.F. Elliott joined a convoy as flagship at Lynn-haven anchorage, near Cape Henry, Virginia. With the commodore on board, the M.F. Elliott sailed with the convoy under naval escort in the early daylight hours of May 20. Her destination was Caripito, Venezuela.
Off the Florida Keys she left the convoy and proceeded on her voyage in company with the Panama Transport Company tanker C.O. Stillman. A few days later the two vessels separated, the C. O. Stillman going to Aruba. (The C.O. Stillman arrived there June 1, sailed on the 4th, and was torpedoed and sunk June 5, two days after the M.F. Elliott's sinking.)
The merchant crew of the M.F. Elliott numbered 38. Her 7 Navy gunners manned a 4-inch gun and two 50-caliber machine guns aft, and two 30-caliber anti-aircraft machine guns, one on each wing of the bridge.
Sank in Six Minutes
Captain Harold I. Cook, master of the vessel, described the circumstances of the tragic sinking:
"We had reached, on the afternoon of June 3, 1942, a point about 150 miles northwest of Trinidad. The weather was clear with blue sky, wind Force 3, sea choppy.
"The torpedo struck without warning at 3:58 p.m. on the starboard side aft, in way of the fireroom and bunker space. When the explosion came I was on the point of leaving my quarters, located on the boat deck amidships, to go to the bridge. Proceeding there immediately, I tried to telegraph the engineroom, but the communication was broken. I told Radio Operator Edward M. Stetson to send an SOS and gave orders for all hands to lower the boats. It was evident almost at once that the ship had been mortally struck. She was settling rapidly by the stern, taking a starboard list at the same time. The alarm bell rang continuously throughout the ship until put out of action by the sinking."
From the time when she was struck, the M.F. Elliott disappeared in six minutes - six minutes in which to decide that the vessel was doomed, to send an SOS, to give the order to abandon ship, to launch the boats.
Captain Cook paid a tribute to both the survivors and the men lost:
"There was no panic among the members of my crew. Given half a chance, we would have suffered little loss of life. All I can do is to praise the crew for their gallant efforts and offer my heart-felt sympathy to the bereaved families of those who died."
Nearly all the crew members were seen on deck after the explosion. Every man proceeded to his proper boat station in orderly fashion.
No. 3 lifeboat had been wrecked in the explosion, so that only Nos. 1, 2, and 4 could be used. The M.F. Elliott was sinking by the stern while the three boats were being launched.
Sinking Ship Capsized Lifeboats
This was the situation when, to quote the graphic description of First Assistant Engineer Charles K. Helton:
"Suddenly the ship settled by the stern very rapidly with the bow coming high in the air, capsizing the lifeboats and throwing all hands into the water in every direction."
Fortunately all four of the life rafts had been launched, and 27 of the survivors, including the 7 Navy gunners, were able to reach them or were pulled aboard. It is probable that most of the 13 men lost were drowned when the lifeboats capsized or were sucked under by the sinking ship.
Three of these men were on watch in the engine-room when the torpedo struck - Second Assistant Engineer Anders W. Anderson, Oiler Frederick W. Cahill, and Fireman Harry H. Bradway. Captain Cook and First Assistant Engineer Helton concur in the belief that they were either killed outright or went down with the ship.
The men on the rafts lashed them together. Early in the evening a plane appeared and signaled by blinker that help was coming. About 6 a.m., June 4, the destroyer USS Tarbell arrived and picked up the 27 men on the rafts.
The destroyer also rescued three more men - including First Assistant Engineer Helton and Radio Operator Stetson - who had drifted all night in their lifebelts. The body of Steward George A. Eycken was found floating near the scene of the disaster and was identified by Captain Cook.
The Tarbell landed the 30 rescued men at Port-of-Spain, Trinidad, on the evening of June 4. Steward Eycken was buried there the next day.
The many incidents which occurred after the sinking of the M.F. Elliott are made clear in the statements of a number of the survivors.
Master's Account
Captain Cook, who succeeded in reaching a life raft, described subsequent events:
"We maneuvered the four rafts together and lashed them to each other before darkness set in. We picked up all the men in sight, including the seven members of the gun crew. When we found No. 1 lifeboat, it had filled to the gunwales with water and we were unable to bail it out because of the. rough sea, but we removed all rations, blankets, and usable equipment. When the Tarbell picked us up we had drifted approximately 14 hours."
Radio Operator Edward M. Stetson told of sending the SOS and of his escape from the sinking vessel:
"When the M.F. Elliott was torpedoed I was in my quarters. I immediately rushed to the radio room and put the emergency equipment in operating condition, then proceeded quickly to the bridge to obtain the ship's position and receive instructions for the dispatch of messages.
"Arriving on the bridge, I reported to Captain Cook. Everything was happening so fast that there was no time to plot our position and Captain Cook instructed me to send out the usual distress message without the position.
"I returned to the radio room and twice transmitted a message stating that we had been attacked by an enemy submarine and giving our vessel's name. No reply came to these messages. I had just begun the third repetition when the M. F. Elliott took a heavy list to starboard.
"I grabbed my life preserver, ran out on deck, and observed that all hands were abandoning ship. Diving over the side of the vessel I swam away as fast as I could for about half an hour. I saw a seaplane appear and drop a life raft some distance away. My life preserver and floating debris to which I clung kept me afloat.
Saw Submarine Surface
"Two hours after darkness set in - perhaps 8 to 8:30 p.m. - I heard the muffled sound of Diesel motors and saw a large submarine, which I judged to be about 300 feet in length, surface a ship's length away for about 10 minutes.
"I could distinguish no insignia, lights, or guns of any description on the U-boat, but saw clearly that her conning tower was painted a bright yellow and her hull either a dull red or brown. A man emerged from the after side of the conning tower, walked about 6 feet aft on deck, looked around with glasses, and returned to the tower. The submarine then submerged.
"I was in the water until about 9 or 10 a.m., June 4, when I was rescued by the Tarbell and landed with the rest of my surviving shipmates at Trinidad."
First Officer Andrew Kadek described the fate of No. 1 lifeboat and his own escape:
"No. 1 boat, with several crew members aboard, had been launched and was drifting aft. I was still on deck on the starboard side, ready to release the forward life raft, but had to wait until the boat was cleared. It drifted toward the stern of the rapidly sinking vessel, became entangled in some of the rigging, and capsized, throwing the occupants into the water. At about this time I released the life raft. Soon after I did so the vessel submerged to such an extent that I was carried away by the onrushing water. I reached the capsized lifeboat and with some of the men managed to right it, but we were unsuccessful in bailing it out. A half hour later we climbed aboard a raft."
First Assistant Engineer Charles K. Helton's account included the following:
"When the torpedo struck I was going on duty and had just reached the ice machine room. I heard the engine stop and saw the ice machine slowing down and the dynamo stop. I ran to my quarters and grabbed my life preserver and electric lantern, then got into No;. 2 lifeboat, which was being lowered away. Nos. I and 4 boats were also being lowered. It seemed to me that all the men in sight were in the boats as the ship settled by the stern."
Helton then described the sinking of the M.F. Elliott and the capsizing of the lifeboats. Thrown into the water, he struggled to the surface but was apparently dragged under by the suction of the sinking vessel.
Saved by Oil Drum
"After I came to the surface the second time," he said, "I swam a short distance and caught hold of the magazine locker, to which Bos'n Glen A. Smith was also clinging. When we found that the locker would not support both of us, Smith swam toward a life raft. Too weak to swim to the raft, I managed to reach a 50 gallon drum and clung to the ends with my fingers. I saw some men in the water and others at a distance on the life rafts, but could not make my shouts heard.
"I Was on my Own"
"The sea began to roughen considerably as darkness set in; during the night the wind increased and the waves rose higher. An airplane appeared overhead and dropped brilliant flares.
"About 8 a.m., June 4, while still clinging to tne oil drum, I observed a destroyer in the distance. Again my shouts went unheard. No life rafts were in sight, nor could I see any of my shipmates in the water. I knew that I was on my own.
"About 10 a.m., the destroyer again approached .and this time it sighted me and sent a small boat to pick me up. Although conscious, I was in pretty bad shape. My eyes, throat, and face burned from the salt water and the sun and my fingers were cut and numb. At Trinidad I was in the hospital for nine days."
Two Picked Up by Raider
The unusual experience of Able Seaman Raymond Smithson and Ordinary Seaman Cornelius F. O'Connor is related herewith in alternate quotations from the statements of the two men:
Smithson:
"The torpedo struck the starboard quarter in the only tank containing oil, which was bunker fuel - the other tanks being flooded with sea water for ballast and the tops lashed open to keep them gas free. The torpedo must have ruptured the fireroom bulkhead, because the boat deck and poop deck were concealed in a rain of oil and salt water for a full minute and black smoke rose from the vicinity of the fireroom for several minutes. Immediately following the blast, the ship developed a quick, up-and-down motion which made the tooting difficult." O'Connor:
"1 had been on watch in the crow's nest for four or five minutes when the torpedo struck. I immediately went down the ladder on the foremast to where my life jacket lay, put it on, and ran to my boat station at No. 2 boat on the port side forward. Second Mate Henry A. Bodden sent me below to see if anyone was in the midship quarters. I went into the passageway and shouted; getting no response, and seeing that the ship was sinking, I ran on deck again and jumped into the lifeboat."
Smithson:
"Proceeding to No. 2 boat, I found five others there and the boat ready for launching. Captain Cook then ordered the boats lowered. Mr. Helton had the motor of the lifeboat running as the bow hit the water."
O'Connor:
"When the after fall was let go I tried to unhook the block, but could not because there was a strain on it. I tried to grab a hatchet that was lying there to cut it loose, but before I could do so the ship rose up in the air and I was thrown out of the boat into the sea. Sucked under, I felt some of the equipment of the lifeboat around me, one piece hitting me on the shoulder.
"I fought my way to the top and got my breath. As I came to the surface I saw a raft with Captain Cook and Ordinary Seaman Thomas Welborn kneeling on it. It was quickly swept out of sight around the bow of the ship, which was now sticking straight up in the air. I got out of the suction by some miracle and found myself near Smithson, who was covered with oil just as I was."
Smithson stated that the M.F. Elliott went over on her back.
"The suction drew us aft," he said. "The bow of the vessel went straight up heavenward and then tilted backward. As she came down, with her decks underneath, she missed us by about 15 yards and formed a breaker which carried us away. Rolling to one side, the bow disappeared, leaving us in a suction which took us under. It looked like the end. My head and lungs seemed about to burst as I fought my way to the surface. I found O'Connor within arm's reach and debris floating all about us. We caught some of these objects and lashed them together - a mast, sail, and spar from a lifeboat and a plank bearing the ship's name."
O'Connor:
"Our makeshift raft turned over three or four times and we had a hard time holding on because of the oil. We could see the rafts about half a mile away and kept shouting for help. We could see the men rowing about and picking up survivors, but they were too far off to see or hear us."
Smithson:
"Three planes appeared. Our spirits rose at once, but sank again when we saw that only one stayed in the vicinity; it dropped a float, with a flag on it, near the life rafts. In the darkness we still drifted, shouting to try to locate the others. The rafts were not lighted and we did not know in what direction they lay."
O'Connor:
"By this time we were about to give out. All of a sudden a big black shape loomed up - it was the submarine. We began to cry for help with all our might. She seemed to be heading for the rafts, but our shouts were heard and she turned in our direction. We kept yelling and after about five minutes we were sighted. Two seamen in the bow threw us a heaving line and pulled us to the sub."
Coated with Oil
Smithson:
"We were too slimy with oil to be pulled aboard but climbed on deck as best we could. On the bridge, with teeth chattering, we drank the rum offered us. We were asked the name of our ship, tonnage, type of cargo, and destination."
(An account of this adventure in the issue of Time magazine dated August 3, 1942 states that the U-boat's conning tower was "decorated with a goat insignia". However, other seamen have reported that a submarine with a goat head on her conning tower was especially hated in the Caribbean owing to her coldblooded habit of shelling the lifeboats of the ships she sank. On the other hand, the commander of a U-boat with a device variously described as the ace of clubs, a black clover, and a black shamrock, was famous for his kindness to the survivors of torpedoed ships.)
Aboard the Submarine
O'Connor:
"The submarine commander, a large, tall man, could speak perfect English. We asked him to take us to the rafts and he agreed. The U-boat started in that direction, but when we could see the rafts 300 to 400 yards away, a flare suddenly went off directly above them. In the bright glare I saw an airplane overhead, but did not get a chance to see anything more, as we were shoved down the hatch of the conning tower. I went down almost head first, with all the Germans right behind me. The commander bellowed out some orders in German and the U-boat submerged.
"We were told to sit down on the floor in the control room near the conning tower ladder. They gave us water, hot tea that tasted like sassafras, and bread and cheese; the bread and cheese were not very good. They also gave us rags to wipe off the oil.
"The commander came in and asked us the name of the ship again. We told him 'Elliott' but he did not seem to understand this. Then I said 'M.F. Elliott' and he said 'Oh, oh, M.F.' He went to the navigator's desk and looked in a little black book, then turned around and said '6,000' to his aide. One of the officers asked me, 'What do the people in America think about the war?' I told him after a little hesitation that they thought they would win. He laughed and asked, 'What do you think about it?' I said, 'Well' about a dozen times and then said, 'In time we should win.' He laughed again and said, 'Germany is stronger than you think.' I said nothing and he asked, 'How old are you?' I told him, 'Eighteen' and he said, 'You are very young.' "
Smithson:
"We surfaced for a few minutes, then dove again. The commander grabbed my head and turned my left cheek to the light as if looking for a mark of identification.
"We were then blindfolded and taken to the torpedo room, where they washed us in petrol to remove some of the oil and fed us graham crackers and water."
Adrift in Dinghy
O'Connor:
"We were in the torpedo room about an hour and a half. The men with us could speak no English, but they were very kind and kept feeding us water and graham crackers.
"We were then taken back to the control room and the blindfolds removed. The commander said 'We are going to give you our lifeboat and water and bread. Row six miles south and you should find your comrades. If you do not, keep heading south and you will reach land. This is war, and it is all that I can do.'
"The submarine having surfaced again, we said goodbye, shook hands, and went on deck. We had been aboard the U-boat three hours."
Smithson:
"We found their 12 foot dinghy in the water. They gave us four gallons of water in petrol cans and a day's ration of hardtack. We rowed south until we were sure we had covered the six miles. Then we saw a flare shot from the rafts, but due to the rough sea we could not go in that direction, though we did our best. At daybreak we saw another flare and, after sunrise, a plane which appeared to be taking off from that direction.
"All that day and all the next - June 4 and 5 - a plane was circling around. It seemed unbelievable that he could not see us, because at times he seemed to be within three miles."
O'Connor:
"The first night we took turns rowing and bailing. Every now. and then a big wave nearly swamped us and we had to bail to keep afloat. I got seasick and vomited into the sea all I had eaten on the submarine.
"In the morning of June 4 we took an oar and lashed it upright with some strips of canvas which we found in the boat. We tied both of our shirts to it-for a sail and tried to head southward, but could not because of the wind and current.
"On the night of the 5th of June I accidentally dropped the bailing can over the side. We had eaten a little of the hardtack and it was salty and not very good. We threw it overboard and used the can for a bailer.
Tried to Kill Seagull for Food
"The same night I thought I saw a light, but I couldn't have, we were so far from land. The third day - June 6 - we tried to kill a seagull with the idea of eating it raw, but we were unsuccessful. That day Smithson thought he saw some little boats, but by that time we were beginning to imagine things. The fourth day, we tried chewing some of the cork from my life preserver."
Smithson:
"The third day a Clipper passed within two miles of us, flying very low. A cargo ship came within half a mile of us. When we shouted, whistled, and waved, the vessel quickly changed course and commenced zigzagging away from us, apparently in fear of submarines. (Perhaps they sighted the one we saw later that day.) A U-boat surfaced within a mile and a half of us, then proceeded on her way and disappeared over the horizon."
O'Connor:
"By the fourth day we were too weak to row any more. We just stretched out in the bottom of the boat and drifted.
"All I had on was a pair of shorts, and my skin was covered with oil. I was sunburned so badly that when I lay down my skin stuck to the boards."
Rescued by Brazilian Tanker
Smithson:
"On the fifth day we spent the morning sleeping in the bottom of the boat. Occasionally we were awakened when water was shipped aboard; then we got up and bailed it out.
"I was keeping a record of the days with notches cut on the thwart and at about noon I had just cut the fifth notch. As I stood up to return the knife to my pocket, I sighted a ship not far off and told O'Connor. At first he merely lay there and grunted, but soon jumped up. We started beating the water cans with the oarlocks; we whistled and waved. It appeared at first as if the ship would pass us by."
O'Connor:
"Suddenly the vessel turned around and started toward us. She hove to nearby and we rowed alongside. They threw a life ring with a heaving line bent to it and pulled us up the side of the ship. The bos'n, a big Brazilian, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up on deck. The ship was a loaded Brazilian tanker, the Santa Maria."
The SS Santa Maria, a 6,346 deadweight ton vessel, home port Rio de Janeiro, is owned by the Navegacao Brasileira Limitada.
"Only two of the crew," O'Connor said, "could speak English. They were very kind to us. They took me to the ship's hospital and gave me a drink of rum and a bowl of hot cereal that tasted better than anything I had ever eaten in my life. They washed me with petrol, then held me under the shower and used soap and water.
"The doctor bandaged the blisters on my hands and feet, handed us cigarettes, and put us to bed. He gave us a hypodermic that night. Every day he changed my bandage and took wonderful care of me.
"The food was good, and the captain and crew treated us fine, giving us clothes, cigarettes, and everything else we wanted."
Smithson:
"I am very grateful to the officers and men of the Santa Maria for the fine way thev treated us and the things they gave us to add to our comfort."
Smithson and O'Connor were landed at Santos, Brazil, on July 1, 1942. On July 8 they were placed aboard the passenger vessel Aratimbo which took them to Rio de Janeiro. Leaving there by plane July 14 they arrived in Miami July 16 and entrained for New York.
23 Survivors Land at Trinidad
Of the 23 merchant crew survivors of the M.F. Elliott landed at Trinidad on June 4, Captain Cook, Chief Mate Kadek, and Radio Operator Stetson were flown to Aruba June 21. From there they were repatriated on the SS Swivel to Mobile, whence they arrived in New York by train on September 16.
Of the remaining 20 survivors, 19 were brought by the SS George Washington, to New Orleans, where they entrained for New York, arriving there July 17.
Bos'n Glen A. Smith obtained employment with an American company in Trinidad.
No serious injuries were suffered by any of the survivors.
Captain Harold I. Cook was first employed by the Company on August 18, 1922 as an able seaman. He has had continuous service as a licensed officer since June 24, 1927, and as master since June 14, 1941.
Chief Engineer Adolf Anderson, who lost his life on the M. F. Elliott, joined the Company as a second assistant engineer on June 1, 1922. He was promoted to chief engineer on January 25, 1929.
Four members of the crew of the M.F. Elliott were aboard other Esso and Panama Transport Company tankers lost or damaged by enemy action.
Third Mate Henry A. Bodden, who lost his life on the M.F. Elliott, had survived the sinking of the Charles Pratt on December 21, 1940.
Three were survivors: Chief Mate Andrew Kadek (E.M. Clark, March 18, 1942, and S.B. Hunt, July 7, 1943); Radio Operator Edward M. Stetson (Esso Manhattan, March 29, 1943); and Petty Officers' Messman Donald Baker (Esso Harrisburg, July 6, 1944).
Merchant Crew Lost on the "M.F. Elliott" - June 3, 1942
Merchant Crew Survivors of the "M.F. Elliott"
U. S. Navy Armed Guard Survivors of the "M.F. Elliott"
Footnote :
Patricia Mikkelsen wrote to me :
I'm not sure if this information is of value, but I have copies of official documents regarding the sinking of the Elliott. As to the statement that the ship was sunk "without warning", I would offer this passage:
"For two hours prior to attack PBY Planes had been circling the ship, and about 30 minutes before attack (some say 10 minutes) the plane had signaled the ship with blinker signal and dropped a smoke flare off stbd. bow. Neither ship's captain nor radio operator were on duty at this time (according to Navy gun crew) and apparently the second mate on watch on the platform did not understand the signal. The pilot of plane doing signaling told member of the gun crew that sub was sighted 9 miles ahead of the ship, but submerged before action could be taken: that he signaled ship to change course and thought she had done so, but this developed to be scheduled zigzag."
This was excerpted from a confidential Navy Dept memorandum dated July 6, 1942, a part of the "Ship Loss File", which I obtained from the US Archives back in 2001.
PS -- My grandfather, Adolf Anderson, was Chief Engineer on the Elliott. He went down with the ship.
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