Hidden History: The Sinking Of The Lancastria, A True Story Told Through The Eyes Of My Grandad

One Of Five Brothers

Something about the permanence of the blockchain has compelled me to tell and thus record this story. Indeed, much like the melting snow of spring if these words remain unspoken they will slowly disappear, obscured by the sands of time. From my perspective that would be a travesty, for it’s a story that needs to be recorded and a life/lives that deserve to be marked.

My Grandfather (Arthur) was one of five brothers who were all conscripted to fight in WW2. They were separated and sent to various hotspots throughout the world and amazingly they all survived. Although they each have important stories to tell, today I’m going to focus on Arthur for he was aboard the Lancastria. Never heard of it? Well, there’s a reason for that.

The Lancastria

RMS (HMT) Lancastria was a Cunard liner that was requisitioned by the UK government at the beginning of WW2. She was also sunk on the 17th of June 1940. Until this day the sinking of the Lancastria represents the largest loss of life in British maritime history. Equally, throughout WW2 it was also the British forces worst catastrophe. Estimates are that between 4,000 - 6,000 men, women and children died in this incident, their lives scattered to the summer breeze. Certainly, there were more souls lost on the Lancastria than the Titanic & Lusitania combined. The ship was filled with both military personnel and refugee men, women, and children, and yet it remains a largely forgotten tragedy.

Following her sinking Prime Minister Winston Churchill imposed a media blackout. This was because the government feared the effect that this news would have upon the moral of the British public. It also didn’t fit the narrative of the time, Dunkirk, the subsequent Battle of Britain and the Lancastria? To this day there are still both missing chunks of the story and differing perspectives of how the events of that fateful day unfolded. Today I'm going to add another piece of the puzzle.

The Journey Home

An exhausted Arthur boarded the Lancastria on a warm June afternoon. Two weeks prior he had been at Dunkirk and the thought of an (albeit fleeting) journey back to England filled his heart with both joy and promise. The Lancastria was taking part in Operation Ariel which was the evacuation of both troops and refugees, as such she was unarmed. For all on board the thought of heading away from danger and an omnipresent warzone must have been a great relief. Alas, they were unaware of the events that were to follow.

We’re Going Down!

It was now late afternoon and the ship was just a few miles off the coast of St Nazaire. The clouds began to chase the weakening summer sun from the sky and the ship gently rocked in the open ocean. It was on the deck that Arthur found himself, laughing and joking with his friend and an exiled French family. Feeling a gentle pull of his clothing, looking down he noticed the French couple’s young (about 4- 5 years old) daughter tugging at his sleeve and pointing in the direction of a group of children a bit further down the ship.

I imagine the prospect of a military escort must have been exciting for the little girl (Marie) and so, after much hand pulling and gesturing Arthur agreed to take her. A quick nod of approval from her father and off they set, leaving her family and his fellow serviceman behind.

Within a matter of minutes all hell broke loose! The unarmed ship had been spotted and the Nazi bombers began their brutal assault. As he turned heel to walk back toward her family the bomber scored a direct hit where they had all been standing. A hit that instantly killed both the girls parents and his friend! From the commencement of the bombing campaign, until the ship's sinking was a timescale of just 25 minutes, what followed was a whirlwind of confusion and terror.

Alas my grandfather is no longer alive and so the exact details of how he entered the water are now lost in time. In this instance, I have relayed his personal story and icorportated some historical references to elucidate the broader context.

Eyewitness Account Of The Sinking

I have added an eyewitness account below from Albert Nadin so you can at least gain an insight into how quickly this all played out.

Into The Water

The fatal bomb exploded on the port side and ruptured the fuel tanks. A black cloud of oil began oozing into the sea and coating all that tried to escape it’s oppressive embrace. As the ship went down and pandemonium erupted all around him, Arthur was suddenly in the water. Luckily, throughout the confusion he had managed to keep hold of Marie, and he now held her tightly. To let go would have ensured her certain death for neither of them had lifejackets.

The ship belched smoke and fire, the acrid plumes stinging their eyes and scorching their lungs. As the thick oily sludge weighed him down, he held her close and kept her above the water. Whilst some of the soldiers sang “there will always be an England” from the upturned deck, the screams of the drowning and injured filled their ears and echoed through the evening sky. And then, in a hail of gunfire they were back!! The bullets of the bombers riddled the ocean as they began to indiscriminately shoot at the struggling survivors. I remember him telling me of the panic that gripped them as word began to spread that the Nazi's were mercilessly trying to set fire to the oil filled water.

It’s a sad fact that as they desperately tried to cling onto life, many of those that survived the sinking were either drowned or killed by enemy gunfire. For nearly four hours Arthur and Marie held onto life and each other, My grandfather using anything he could find to keep them above the water and alive. And then as hope began to fade and the last rays of daylight were scattered by the darkness, they were rescued.

Safety

They were found hypothermic and exhausted, but most importantly alive! Once their rescue ship reached the shore, in the melee that followed, the authorities took Marie and processed her as both a refugee and orphan. And that was the last he saw of her, for in this time period and in these circumstances, to retain contact was akin to impossible. He was allowed a short time for rest and respite and was then sent back to the frontline and remained on active duty until the war ended in 1945.

The End?

Well I may have stretched the truth a little when I said he never saw Marie again.

It was a hot summer day, Arthur was busy gardening when he heard a knock on the door. Twenty years or so had passed since the events of the Lancastria and yet when he opened the door there she stood! A beautiful young woman, it was Marie! She had tracked him down and was there to ask that he give her away at her wedding, to take the role of her lost father for just one day. As tears filled his eyes and ran down his face, he duly obliged. The wedding would become one of the proudest days in his life, for they were profoundly connected. Two people thrown together in a random sequence of events that would save and define both their lives.

The UK government was eventually pressured into marking the event and giving the survivors and the families of those that perished a lasting memorial. Equally documentary evidence remains sealed and will not be made public until 2040. Sadly to this day the individual acts of bravery remain unrecognised, at least officially.

Conclusion

For me this is not a post to discuss the futility of war. We can have this conversation every day of the week, but for the majority it’s a conversation that can be held from the comfort of our homes. I write these words as a way of saying thank you to my grandfather and to a whole generation that had no choice. A generation whose minds remained eternally scarred by the horrors they witnessed and the sacrifices that they made. This is Arthurs forgotten voice, spoken from the waters of the Lancastria and written so that its heroes and its dead will continue to be given a voice.

This is also a story of the human spirit, humanity in the face of inhumanity, the spark of light that keeps burning and illuminating even the darkest of nights. A light that may at times flicker, but will never be extinguished.