St. John's and the Battle of the Atlantic

By Flanker Press

During World War II St. John’s, Newfoundland played a critical role in the fight against Nazi Germany. Seamen from all over the world sailed to and from the old seaport, chosen for duty because it was closest to Europe and because its people knew both the peril and glory of the North Atlantic. In his introduction to this absorbing collection of stories, Bill Rompkey examines the city’s service to one of the most famous battles in military history and the effect it had on the people of St. John’s. The stories that follow provide an insider’s look at life in Newfoundland during this challenging time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Flanker Press
• Release date: Jun 18, 2009
• ISBN: 9781771170666

Book preview

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

St. John's and the Battle of the Atlantic / edited with

an introduction by Bill Rompkey.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN:

ISBN EPUB: 978-1-771170-66-6

ISBN KINDLE: 978-1-771170-67-3

1. World War, 1939-1945--Newfoundland and Labrador--St. John's. 2. World War, 1939-1945--Naval operations. 3. St. John's (N. L.)--History. I. Romkey, Bill, 1936-

FC2196.4.S3522009          971.8'103          C2009-902467-5

© 2009 by Bill Rompkey

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of the work covered by the copyright hereon maybe reproduced or used in any form or by any means—graphic, electronic or mechanical—without the written permission of the publisher. Any request for photocopying, recording, taping or information storage and retrieval systems of any part of this book shall be directed to Access Copyright, The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency, One Yonge Street, Suite 800, Toronto, ON M5E 1E5. This applies to classroom use as well.

FLANKER PRESS

P. O. BOX 2522, STATION C

ST. JOHN’S, NL A1C 6K1 CANADA

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Cover Design: Adam Freake

14 13 12 1110          2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

We acknowledge the financial support of: the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP); the Canada Council for the Arts which last year invested $20.1 million in writing and publishing throughout Canada; the Government of Newfoundland and Labrador, Department of Tourism, Culture and Recreation.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to all Newfoundlanders and Labradorians who served afloat and ashore during World War II.

from Behind the Log

by

E. J. Pratt

(Description of a night attack by U-boats on convoy SC-42 in September 1941)

When ships announced their wounds by rockets, wrote

Their own obituaries in flame that soared

Two hundred feet and stabbed the arctic night

Like some neurotic and untimely sunrise.

Exploding tankers turned the sky to canvas,

Soaked it in orange fire, kindled the sea,

Then carpeted their graves with wreaths of soot.

from The Laws of the Navy

by

Captain Ronald Hopwood, RN

Now these are the laws of the Navy,

Unwritten and varied they be,

And he that is wise will observe them,

Going down in his ship to the sea.

As naught may outrun the destroyer,

Even so with the law and its grip,

For the strength of the ship is the Service,

And the strength of the Service, the ship.

On the strength of one link in the cable,

Dependeth the might of the chain.

Who knows when thou mayest be tested?

So live that thou bearest the strain!

When the ship that is tired returneth,

With the signs of the sea showing plain,

Men place her in dock for a season,

And her speed she reneweth again.

So shalt thou, lest, perchance thou grow weary,

In the uttermost parts of the sea,

Pray for leave, for the good of the Service,

As much and as oft as may be.

FOREWORD

by

Honourable Fred J. Mifflin, PC, CD

Rear Admiral (Retired)

In the early summer of 1972 I was captain of HMCS Skeena. Having nearly completed our operational tour of duty with the Standing Naval Force Atlantic in the Caribbean and eastern Atlantic, we were looking forward to a liberty port en route to home port Halifax, NS. The ship’s company of 220 was polled regarding which of the 25 or so ports in the Atlantic Seaboard — Europe or North America — they would prefer for a six day stopover. The near-unanimous choice was St. John’s, Newfoundland! This speaks volumes about the close relationship that has existed between the navy and this great city for centuries — from the early days of the fishing admirals that ruled the colony from St. John’s Harbour, to the present.

The familiar thick fog that day in 1972 caused our harbour approach to the Narrows to be somewhat dramatic, as the first and sudden visible existence of land loomed out of the dense blanket in the form of the foreboding steep cliffs of Signal Hill on one side and Fort Amherst on the other. As we entered the harbour, recollections of my early boyhood in St. John’s during World War II went through my mind. I was 18 months old when the war began and I lived near Water Street until I moved to Bonavista in 1944. I remembered the sailors in uniform walking along Water Street, the dreaded Shore Patrols, the nuisance blackouts, the omnipresent ration cards, and the scarcity of key related ingredients. The shock and sadness of the news of the sinking by a U-boat of the ferry Caribou in the Cabot Strait and the burning of the Knights of Columbus hut remained a clear memory to me, as did the stern and repeated voice accompanying the daily Gerald S. Doyle news over radio station VONF that N is for nuts and A is for apples — not knowing what code it represented — if any! But above all I vividly remember the navy ships and the hustle and bustle along the many finger piers that lined this strategically important harbour during the Battle of the Atlantic.

In later years my regular visits to and eventual life membership in the Crow’s Nest Club seemed an enjoyable and appropriate part of my job as a rear admiral and deputy commander of the Canadian Navy. One of the highlights of my life, later in politics, was representing the Canadian government in my capacity as Regional Minister for Newfoundland and Labrador in the commissioning of the new frigate HMCS St. John’s on Discovery Day in 1996.

The story of St. John’s, the navy, and the last World War can be told by many people in many ways, though perhaps none better than by a St. John’s native, a naval officer and a politician, who lived it and remembers it in these dimensions. He has literally covered the waterfront of the many poignant aspects of the city, the time, and the people in such a way that one feels part of the story whether or not they were there. Senator Bill Rompkey, in this valuable historical work, displays his well-known passion as a Newfoundlander and Labradorian and his love for the navy.

FOREWORD

by

Vice-Admiral Daniel (Dan) Mainguy (Retired)

This is a very timely book, and one that is most welcome. I don’t think anyone has yet told the story of the Battle of the Atlantic in such detail and from the perspective of those who lived in and near St. John’s. It was a special time for the Canadian Navy, and an important time. The job given to Newfoundlanders during the war was vital, and as many have said, the experience shaped their lives.

During those years of service, a community of sailors came to life. It was made up of people who had very little experience, but who came to serve with a very special combination of innovation, hubris, imagination and luck, a great deal of common sense, and a dedication to the task at hand that forever shaped the East Coast legend of Canadian war service. Newfoundland became a welcome home for the serving men and women. It’s important that Canadians understand that we were actively at war there, dealing with the daily realities of torpedo attacks and enemy ships. The generosity of the people of Newfoundland made it bearable.

I like Newfoundland, and whenever I have been there people told me stories of my father and the time he spent there as Captain D and co-founder of the Crow’s Nest Club. My father reciprocated: telling stories about his time there was a favourite occupation. His war service in Newfoundland informed the rest of his life, and he believed that wherever the head of the Canadian Navy was, its heart was in St. John’s. I think his heart was there a little, too. My father was a great believer in the importance of a good strong community, and he believed that the men of Newfoundland had set the tone for the Royal Canadian Navy. My father would have liked this book, and he would have looked forward to the public gaining an understanding of this particular story of Canada at war. I look forward to knowing more of the story.

PREFACE

The Ditty Bag

I was only nine years old when the war ended, but I still have vivid memories of that time in St. John’s. We had moved from Fortune Bay to St. John’s in 1938 to a house at 17 Cook Street, near the intersection of Freshwater Road and Pennywell Road. It was a provocative street with a tavern near one end — the Cottage Gardens, a well-known watering hole — and a hostel for seniors near the other — the Anchorage, run by the Salvation Army. Whether there was any direct connection between the two places I’m not sure.

A watering trough for horses still stood at the bottom of Freshwater Road, from where there was a good view of the Church Lads Brigade (CLB) Armoury and farther down Military Road, the Knights of Columbus Hostel. I remember my father taking me by the hand to that spot, where we stood just outside Dr. Polikoff’s office to watch the smoke billow from the blackened ruins that marked the tragedy of the K of C fire.

My father, who had been turned down for active service, was a member of the Air Raid Patrol (ARP), and in our front porch were his bucket of sand, his stirrup pump for fighting fires (they must have been small ones), his arm band, his knapsack, and his brown army helmet. His job, and that of many other men, was to patrol the city checking on suspicious circumstances or events, seeing that lights were properly dimmed in the buildings, and generally helping in civil defence as required. If there was even a sliver of light coming from under your window blinds there would be a rap on your door and an order from the local air raid warden to douse your lights. My brother, Ron, was born during those war years, perhaps, he suggests presciently, as a result of a blackout.

Our own house lights would be dimmed regularly. I remember the wail of sirens announcing a drill, a chilling sound for a young boy. Immediately, wallboard would be put up to the windows and fastened in place with wooden buttons and the lights doused until the all-clear was sounded. Was it just an exercise or was it the real thing? You never knew, and a young boy’s imagination would be at full throttle with a combination of fear and excitement. Was there a submarine in the harbour? Were there planes overhead? We never knew for sure until we heard the welcome wail at the end of the exercise.

Outside in the streets, the lights of the automobiles, still driven on the left, were hooded, their fenders edged with a white band. In fact, the telephone poles had white bands as well in an attempt to prevent pedestrians from knocking their heads during the blackout. Sometimes in the morning children would find the remains of smudge pots that may have been used the night before to simulate the effects of bombing or perhaps to practise extinguishing a fire. The lights of the city were dimmed as well, and the ships in the harbour were on alert, for St. John’s, or Newfyjohn as it was affectionately known by the navy, was the eastern terminus for the St. John’s-to-Derry convoy route, carrying overseas supplies and armaments crucial to the survival of Britain and to support future offensive landings on the continent. The streets would be full of bell-bottomed sailors in white caps, and the blue and khaki uniforms from other countries.

At Bishop Feild College, we boys did our part as well. We bought war stamps and filled up as many books as we could to be redeemed after the war. In the lower grades, our job was to fill ditty bags and send them off to the ships at sea. Our mothers would stitch together bags of blue serge with a drawstring top which we would fill with supplies and treats: razor blades, shaving gear, chewing gum, knitted socks or scarves or trigger mitts, and, of course, cigarettes — likely Wings, Players, Sweet Caps, or Lucky Strikes. To buy the cigarettes, we sold bags of peanuts donated by a local service club. The motto was Nuts to you; smokes to them. When the bag was full, we would sign our names and addresses on a slip of paper and stow it in the ditty bag before pulling the drawstring tight. Then, somehow, they got shipped off to the Royal Navy (RN) or the Royal Canadian Navy (RCN) at sea.

One night after dark there was a knock at the door. My mother went to see who was there. From the living room I listened to the short hum of muffled conversation in the vestibule. Who was at the door? To my surprise, my mother re-entered the living room followed by a naval rating in full blues. He had received my ditty bag at sea with my name and address stowed inside: Billy Rompkey, 17 Cook Street, St. John’s, Newfoundland. I met his entrance with great astonishment. The Navy had not only come to our harbour and our city, but to our very street! I don’t remember his name or his ship or the conversation that followed. No doubt he was asked to sit by the coal fire in the grate, given a cup of tea and perhaps some fruitcake, and stayed to chat about his circumstances and to ask about ours. I was probably too shy to say very much, but I vividly remember the visit. It’s a memory that will never fade. Nor will I forget the small role I had in the Battle of the Atlantic. It was another tie, if any was needed, that bound me, small as I was, to the dramatic events being played out just outside our harbour and on the stormy and dangerous seas of the North Atlantic.

I have other memories of the navy in wartime St. John’s. A friend of the family from Belleoram, Bob Sceans, enlisted as a lower deckhand in the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve (RNVR) and was a lieutenant before the end of the war. After the war he became for me a personal embodiment of the navy. As well, a frequent visitor to our house was Bill Twiddy, RN, an engine room articifer on HMS Greenwich. He was, from time to time, an escort for my aunt Katherine to dances at the Knights of Columbus. My grandfather, a master mariner, who had come to live with us in St. John’s, had a job as a night watchman at Ayre and Sons on the waterfront. One night he was attacked and beaten by drunk servicemen. I remember my father reporting on the ensuing court case when the judge remonstrated with the suitably chastened visitors on the shame of attacking an old man.

After the war, as a student at Memorial University, I joined the University Naval Training Divisions and later served as an officer in the Royal Canadian Naval Reserve (RCN (R)), so I had some knowledge of warships. These experiences and memories aroused my curiosity. What was St. John’s really like at that time? What was going on? How important was it and what role did it play during the war? I began to ask questions and to read.

What follows is the result of my research into the role of the port and the role of the people, both military and civilian, as seen through the eyes of those who were there. In the following introduction and stories I have tried to answer the five W’s — who, what, when, where, and why — and give a sense of life and work in the old city of St. John’s.

Bill Rompkey

HISTORICAL TIMELINE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My first thanks go to Janice Marshall for her excellent compiling and editing, her skill and her judgment, and to Debbie Andrews of the Centre for Newfoundland Studies at Memorial University, who was most diligent and thorough in her research.

I am also indebted to the following for their advice and assistance: Dr. Peter Neary, a friend and historian who gave invaluable advice; Dr. W. A. B. Douglas; Michael Whitby; Joan Ritcey and Colleen Field at the Centre for Newfoundland Studies; Lt. (N) Shannon Lewis-Simpson and Commanding Officer Lt. Cdr. Barry Walsh of HMCS Cabot; Cdr. Margaret Morris, Gary Green, and Jacqueline Ryan at the Crow’s Nest; Lt. Cdr. J. Graeme G. Arbuckle of the Canadian Navy Heritage Project; Ernest Reid; Sandra Ronayne, Manny Buchheit, and the staff of The Rooms Provincial Archives; Helen Miller, City of St. John’s Archivist; the Library of Parliament; Maggie Arbour-Doucette, Susan Ross, and Dennis Fletcher at the Canadian War Museum; Library and Archives Canada; Ed Tompkins; Janet Lacroix at the National Defence Image Library; and Andrew Taylor.

Thanks are also extended to the following for their kind assistance: Petty Officer Jim Shields; Dr. Marc Milner; Dr. Graham Skanes; Harvey Bishop; Dr. Ron Rompkey; Judge David Riche; Captain (N) Peter S. Milsom; Lt. Cdr. Cliff Chaulk; Captain (N) Bob Duncombe; Cdr. Merv Cameron; Ford and Kathleen Neal; Carla (Emerson) Furlong; Jean (Fox) Stirling; Elizabeth Reynolds; Jim Gayfer; Jerrod Riley, National Deputy Director of the Navy League of Canada; Marilyn Gurney, Director of the Maritime Command Museum; Dr. Ron Whelan and Paul Johnson and Joseph Gough.

I am particularly indebted to Jamie Lamb, Mary Neary, Margaret Duley, Helen Porter, Darrin McGrath, Dr. Otto Tucker, Harry Cuff, and Cdr. Margaret Morris of the Crow’s Nest for permission to use the excerpts I have included.

I am very grateful for the help and support of Garry and Margo Cranford and the staff at Flanker Press, especially Peter Hanes, without whose co-operation this book would not have been possible.

My great appreciation to Rear Admiral Fred Mifflin and to Vice-Admiral Daniel Dan Mainguy for their gracious forewords.

Most importantly, I wish to express my deepest gratitude to my wife, Carolyn, for adding her memories of WWII, for her constant support and encouragement, and for having tolerated the household disruptions of a labouring writer.

EDITOR’S NOTES ON THE TEXT

The name of the province was constitutionally changed in 2001 to Newfoundland and Labrador. At Confederation it was Newfoundland, the name of the Dominion and the Colony. I have tried to apply the foregoing chronological differentiation as well as I can in my introduction. Also, at times, I will refer to the island portion of the province as Newfoundland. I have, however, left the texts of the various authors as they were written.

Newfyjohn was a term of affection used by both the Royal Navy and the Royal Canadian Navy who looked forward to tying up in a port that was, and is, hospitable and merry. During the war, contractions of names were often made for convenience and clarity in communication: Londonderry, for example, became Derry. Thus, Newfyjohn. The word has been spelled using both ie and y endings. I have chosen to use the latter, but I have left other authors to their own choices. I have left without correction any inconsistencies that may appear in the texts I have included in the book. In my own writing I, of course, take responsibility for any errors. I have not added footnotes but have indicated source notes within the text.

INTRODUCTION

It was not always easy for seamen to find that cleft in the rock