Final Voyage (12 page)

In quick succession, three direct hits sealed the
Lancastria'
s fate.

In quick succession, three direct hits sealed the
Lancastria
's fate. Few on board would have doubted these were mortal wounds. Those who saw the explosions were temporarily blinded by flashes like sheet lightning. Everyone else on the ship heard the deafening sound, like they were inside a thunder cloud. The explosions smashed much of the glass on the
Lancastria
. For a few moments the ship was plunged into darkness, but the lights soon flickered back on. The stricken vessel continued to buck and shudder long after the debris had settled.

The bombs had exploded in holds 2, 3 and 4. One of them smashed through the restaurant, where men were eating, and exploded beneath it, tearing a hole in the hull and causing some of the restaurant to cave in on top of the diners.

Some 800 RAF personnel were in hold 2. The bomb detonated as it crashed through the hatch overhead. Turning the metal into shrapnel, the bomb killed nearly everyone in that hold instantly. Many were decapitated. Most of those who survived would live long enough to discover the explosion had destroyed their escape routes, before fire and thick black smoke overcame them.

Many survivors later claimed that one of the bombs went down the
Lancastria
's funnel. Officers on the bridge corroborated this story because immediately after the attack they tried to contact the engine room but couldn't get a response, so assumed it had been destroyed. However, all of the crew in the engine room survived, despite it being so deep inside the ship. They escaped through an engineering duct that led all the way up to the main deck. One of the survivors had been standing on the platform above the boiler room during the air raid, and a bomb falling down the funnel would have destroyed that platform and killed him. The bomb actually fell into hold 4, which was immediately behind the bridge. From a certain angle it would appear like it had gone down the funnel instead. This bomb tore a hole in the port side below the waterline. Smoke from the explosion soon enveloped the entire bow of the ship.

It was in the middle of a spreading oil slick that the
Lancastria
began to sink.

The bomb that hit hold 3 ruptured fuel tanks. Fortunately the explosion didn't set fire to the oil, but 1,400 tons spilled out into the water. It was in the middle of a spreading oil slick that the
Lancastria
began to sink.

Captain Sharp, who had been in his cabin when the air raid began, rushed to the bridge as his ship developed a noticeable list to starboard. If he hadn't feared the worst before he got there, what he saw when he joined his officer of the watch must have left him with no doubts. Looking down through the churning smoke, past the panicking men trying to escape in every direction, he saw the rush of white water bursting up through the middle of the ship from hold 4. The
Lancastria
was going down by the head and listing ever further to starboard. Sharp gave the order to abandon ship.

Those nearest the side of the ship could look overboard and see water flooding into a gaping hole in the hull.

Amidst the chaos of a sinking ship overcrowded to perhaps more than four times capacity, any order would struggle to circulate. Many men didn't need to hear it from the captain anyway. Those nearest the side of the ship could look overboard and see water flooding into a gaping hole in the hull. As soon as the
Lancastria
started to list, the cry went up around those on deck to jump overboard. Soldiers began jumping by the dozen.

Officers struggling to maintain some sense of order and control used megaphones to order crewmen to clear away the lifeboats. Other orders were given to lower ropes into the rapidly flooding forehold, but too many in the hold grabbed the ropes at the same time. It was impossible to pull any of them up, and none of them managed to climb up either.

Suddenly the ship lurched. For a few seconds everyone on board must have assumed the
Lancastria
was entering
her death roll. She listed so badly to starboard that men still jumping from her port side risked death by dropping 70ft (20m) to the water. On the starboard side, however, her gunwale was so close to the water that men could simply step off into the sea. Realising that the crowds pouring up on to the top deck had made the
Lancastria
top heavy, and that this rather than her water intake was causing the imminent capsize, the officers with the megaphones ordered as many over to the port side as would listen.

Seemingly miraculously for those still below decks, unaware of what was going on above them, the
Lancastria
slowly levelled off. She had given them a reprieve, extra time to try and escape. But it would not last long. Gradually, as she took on more and more water, the
Lancastria
began rolling to port, and this time moving scared young soldiers around the sun deck would not be enough to save her.

Steam from fractured pipes hissed into companionways. Men held handkerchiefs to their faces so that they wouldn't get burnt.

A strong smell of explosives seeped through the cabins and companionways as thousands of men struggled to find a way out. They found passages destroyed by the explosions and exits blocked by fire. Men from the Auxiliary Pioneer Corps tried to unravel fire hoses, but the crush of those desperate to escape made it impossible to fight the flames. Steam from fractured pipes hissed into companionways. Men held handkerchiefs to their faces so that they wouldn't get burnt.

In some parts of the ship's bowels those who managed to survive reported a very British, very orderly evacuation.
Out of these reports came the story of Father Charles McMenemy, one of the heroes of the
Lancastria
's final moments. A Roman Catholic priest, McMenemy had been in France to serve as chaplain for the troops. With nobody else to lead them, no orders and no idea which way to go, men were attracted to the padre's calm, quiet authority. He led a group of men through ankle-deep waters at the bottom of the ship and found a way out in the side of the ship. They were only 6ft (1.8m) above the waterline. McMenemy recommended the soldiers ditch as much of their heavy uniforms as possible before they jumped in, because the clothes would only weigh the men down and make it harder for them to swim. When a sergeant-major without a lifejacket revealed he couldn't swim, McMenemy gave the officer his own lifejacket. Then he jumped in too.

This was far divorced from the chaos happening elsewhere. Men kicked through locked wooden doors looking for a way out. A young soldier, nerves already shredded by weeks on the run from the Germans, became hysterical. Others quickly shoved him into a cabin to calm him down and to stop the hysteria spreading. In one episode, bordering on slapstick, a slim man managed to slip through a porthole and then a somewhat less slim man tried to copy him. He promptly got stuck and called for a push. That only wedged him in tighter. Eventually they gave up and pulled him back inside instead.

A young soldier, nerves already shredded by weeks on the run from the Germans, became hysterical.

But panic really took hold when water started trickling down the stairs. The water had actually pooled inside the ship when the
Lancastria
listed to starboard and was now
simply flowing through the ship, gravity carrying it to the lowest point, as she listed to port. But to the men stuck below, this was a sign that the ship was about to go under. A fight broke out on the main staircase. Men still carrying their rifles, still wearing their heavy packs as ordered by their ranking officers, surged forward into a bottleneck on every deck. Those at the very bottom of the ship, still waiting to get a foot on the first step, were already treading water, which was rising rapidly.

The wooden staircase could not bear the weight of so many men. When it collapsed it ensured that several thousand men would have no chance of survival.

The wooden staircase could not bear the weight of so many men. When it collapsed it ensured that several thousand men would have no chance of survival. They didn't have enough time to find another way out. Though they would have spent the rest of their lives looking, that was soon rendered impossible. The lights went out, and this time they did not flicker back on again. For those nearing the top of the stairs there was the faint promise of daylight above. Everyone else was now trapped in darkness.

The
Lancastria
carried 32 lifeboats, each capable of taking about 100 people, which left two thirds of those aboard without a place. Ultimately it was inconsequential that the
Lancastria
did not have enough boats for everyone. In the 20 minutes she took to sink only two were launched successfully. The crew ordered to launch them found many of the davits rusted. Soldiers struck the davits with the butts of their rifles to try and clear them, but it was soon
too late. The
Lancastria
quickly listed at such an angle that no more lifeboats could be launched.

In addition to the two boats that got away, another two lifeboats were filled and began to be lowered. One of them became stuck when it was still hanging from the ropes only halfway down. This boat carried women, children and other civilians. A man lost several fingers trying to force a rope through the pulley. Another, a member of the Pioneer Corps manning the lifeboat, took out his knife and cut the rope. Not realising his error until it was too late, he was thrown into the sea along with everyone else in the boat as it fell and then dangled from the one remaining rope at the other end. Another lifeboat also capsized before it reached the water.

As those on deck began to realise they were not going to escape the ship in a lifeboat, many began to leap.

As those on deck began to realise they were not going to escape the ship in a lifeboat, many who had ignored the earlier suggestion to jump began to leap. One soldier, still more reticent than his comrades, looked over the side to see again how far it was from the top deck to the water's surface. In doing so he saved his life. He saw what looked like coconuts floating below him and realised they were decapitated human heads. Other motionless soldiers floated nearby too. By jumping over the side whilst wearing a lifejacket, these men had broken their necks. The force of hitting the water made the lifejacket snap up. The reticent soldier removed his lifejacket, threw it over the side, then jumped in after it. He survived.

Meanwhile others without lifejackets hurried back into the cabins and lounges, looking for anything that would
float when they threw it overboard. Most of these makeshift floats landed on somebody already in the water. The sheer number of people in the sea made it just as hard for those in the water to swim away as it was for those wanting to jump in to do so without hitting anyone. Some men started to climb down rope ladders instead, stepping on fingers and heads in their haste. Others slid down ropes cast over the side, searing the skin off their palms as they descended too quickly.

As the
Lancastria
went down by the head, men found it harder not to lose their footing. Some stumbled and then tumbled down the listing deck. The ever increasing pitch also made it difficult for those trying to jump from the rising stern, not least because that was now like jumping from the roof of a tall building. The men took running jumps over the railing. Many misjudged the distance and slid down the hull, getting stranded on the rusted propeller shaft housing, now 30ft (9m) above the sea.

One man manned his anti-aircraft gun until the water swept him away.

Those still coming up from below decks reached the bright, blinding sunlight and found that the lack of lifeboats – or even reasonable alternatives to lifeboats – was not actually the most pressing threat. German planes continued to take runs at the
Lancastria
, but instead of dropping more bombs they strafed the men. Bullet holes pocked the decks. Men who had tried to drive the bombers away with anti-aircraft fire continued to fire back at the planes, even as the bow disappeared beneath the surface and the waterline rushed up the deck. Elsewhere men were still trying to release rafts and lifeboats until the water washed over
them and swelled the ropes, making untying knots impossible. One man manned his anti-aircraft gun until the water swept him away.

At 4.08pm, only 20 minutes after the attack, the
Lancastria
slowly rolled over to port. Her sirens, which had wailed the entire time, were finally silenced. The men who had not jumped beforehand, including many of those who were unable to swim, simply floated off the deck as she capsized. The
Lancastria
settled rapidly, but hundreds of men clambered on top of the upturned hull. Some found dry cigarettes and decided they were unlikely to stay that way for long, so smoked them whilst they could. They knew there was nothing they could do to help those they had seen trapped inside the ship on the other side of portholes. As German planes returned once again to strafe the hull, many of those standing on it linked arms and began to sing British standards, starting with
Roll Out the Barrel
, then
Hanging Out the Washing on the Siegfried Line
and, as the ship sank,
There'll Always Be an England
.

There was a gentle swell as the
Lancastria
disappeared beneath the sea, but the downdraught sucked hundreds underwater. Many of those who couldn't swim only floated back to the surface after they drowned. A later investigation suggested that whilst the
Lancastria
could never have survived the damage she suffered, she should have stayed afloat for much longer. Her watertight bulkheads should have stopped her flooding so rapidly. Perhaps the number of people crowded into the belly of the ship, below the waterline, ensured the bulkheads would never have been
sealed in time, not without sentencing thousands to death. Most died anyway, but by keeping the bulkheads open everyone was at least given the chance to try and escape.