In Harm's Way

 

Today’s blog post about the sinking of the Lusitania is a reprint from July 2, 2012. I have made a few minor changes for formatting and similar purposes.¹

In Harm’s Way

In 1915, Great Britain and her European allies were at war with Germany. The United States was a declared neutral, although its sympathies were with the British. When a German submarine sank the Lusitania on May 7, this country’s official position didn’t change. But the intensity of its feelings did.

The Lusitania left New York on May 1, 1915 and was due to arrive in Liverpool on May 8.² Its passengers were traveling to England for various reasons, some connected with the war and some not. Oliver Bernard was hoping to enlist. Dorothy Connor was a Red Cross volunteer heading for France. Alfred Vanderbilt (son of Cornelius) was on his way to attend a London board meeting of the International Horse Show Association. Stewart and Lesley Mason were on their honeymoon. Third-class passenger Elizabeth Duckworth was simply homesick.

A number of passengers were aware of a notice that had appeared in the New York City newspapers that morning, but others were not. The notice, which had been placed by the German embassy, warned potential passengers that “vessels flying the flag of Great Britain, or any of her allies, are liable to destruction in [waters adjacent to the British Isles] and that travellers sailing in the war zone on ships of Great Britain or her allies do so at their own risk.” With or without knowledge of the notice, many passengers were worried about German submarines, but others were sure the Lusitania could outrun them.

That may have been true, but first it had to know the submarine was there. The initial sightings of the U-20’s periscope coincided with the launching of the torpedo. By then it was too late.

The torpedo blew a hole in the ship’s side, taking out the electrical system and steering controls. With the Lusitania continuing at a high rate of speed (a body in motion stays in motion) and no way to stop it, lowering the life boats into the water became a dangerous endeavor even when they were lowered correctly. But many were not. When untrained sailors used the outdated launching equipment, one end of the boat frequently dropped faster than the other and spilled its inhabitants into the water—often while they were still many feet above it.

Then there were the non-existent demonstrations on how to wear life jackets. The instructions were posted prominently in each cabin, but few passengers read them. Many deaths resulted from putting on lifejackets backwards or upside down, both of which forced the wearer’s face into the water.

The Lusitania sank about 12 miles off the coast of Ireland, but it was impossible for other boats to reach it in time. About a half hour passed from the torpedo’s impact to the ship’s last sigh before slipping under the surface. When the rescuers arrived, they found some life boats, but they also saw people clinging to wooden deck chairs and storage boxes and other debris. Of the almost 2,000 people on board, less than 800 survived.

For those of you interested in the people mentioned earlier, Oliver Bernard, Dorothy Connor, and Elizabeth Duckworth were among the survivors. Alfred Vanderbilt and Stewart and Lesley Mason were not.

Subsequent inquiries blamed the disaster solely on the German torpedo. The Germans claimed that the Lusitania was armed and carrying Canadian troops, but those claims have been debunked. Then there is the conspiracy theory that Winston Churchill (First Lord of the Admiralty at the time) set the passenger ship up for destruction as a way to force the United States into the war, but that doesn’t seem to fit the facts, either.

The Lusitania was a British ship, so why did her sinking create such an outcry in America?

There were 159 Americans on board, and 124 of them perished. And regardless of the victims’ nationalities, many people were outraged at the large number of innocent civilians killed, including dozens of babies.²

Contrary to popular belief, the sinking of the Lusitania did not propel the United States into World War I. That would not happen for another two years. Still, it was clearly a contributing factor—a strong link in a chain of events that convinced the United States to join the conflict.

And Germany would discover—as the Japanese did after Pearl Harbor—that it isn’t safe to anger the United States.

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¹ The photo of the Lusitania is part of a panoramic picture taken by N. W. Penfield in 1907. It is in the public domain because of its age.

² I recommend The Last Voyage of the Lusitania, by A.A. Hoehling and Mary Hoehling, which is a quick and easy read. For those who want the broader historical context, I suggest Lusitania: An Epic Tragedy, by Diana Preston.

Heros

 

Everyone knows that the Titanic hit an iceberg and sank, taking approximately 1500 lives with it. This week I’m going to reprint a post from April 16, 2012, that looks at it from a slightly different perspective. I have made a few minor changes for formatting and similar purposes.

Heros

On April 10, 1912, the Titanic left Southampton, England on her maiden voyage.¹ Two days later, the unsinkable became the unthinkable.

I’ve always been fascinated by the disaster. This isn’t history told with dry facts and figures. It is primarily a story of real people and how they reacted in a crisis.²                               

While there are some reports of cowardly actions, many more speak of courage. And even most of the actions some call cowardly are at least understandable. For example, 21-year-old Daniel Buckley jumped into a lifeboat with several other men while the crew was loading women and children. The sailors forced the other men out, but a woman threw a shawl over Daniel as he lay sniveling in the bottom of the boat, and he escaped notice. Is that cowardice? Maybe. But I can sympathize with his desire to live.

I can also understand the different reaction from Mrs. Isador Straus, the wife of one of the owners of Macy’s Department Store. When someone suggested that her husband accompany her in a lifeboat because of his advanced age (67), he refused to go before the other men. Mrs. Straus decided to stay with her husband, saying something like, “We have lived together for many years. Where you go, I go.” They were last seen sitting side by side in deck chairs.

The Straus children were grown and out on their own. Their mother’s decision would be hard on them, but they could go on. So I can understand her decision.

But I can’t understand why Mrs. Hudson Allison chose to stay. By doing so, she orphaned her 11-month-old son and condemned her 2-year-old daughter to an awful death. The boy entered a boat with his nurse, and the girl was last seen clinging to her mother’s leg—the only first class child who died. (In fairness to Mrs. Allison, there is conflicting testimony on this issue, with one eyewitness saying she was frantically searching for her husband and son until it was too late.)

Mr. Straus was a hero, as were the many other men who stood aside without protest to let the women and children go first. Then there is Edith Evans. When she and a married friend reached one of the last remaining lifeboats, there was only room for one more. So Edith told her friend to go first because she had children who needed their mother. The friend survived, but Edith did not.

Also among the heroes were Captain Smith (died), Second Officer Lightoller (survived), and the many other crew members who remained calm and worked feverishly to save as many lives as possible.

There were many heros that night who willingly gave, or at least risked, their lives for others.

And we should be grateful.

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¹ The picture at the head of this post shows the RMS Titanic at Southampton on April 10, 1912, two days before her maiden voyage. The photo was taken by Francis Godolphin Osbourne Stuart and is in the public domain because of its age.

² Almost 70 years after it was published, Walter Lord’s A Night to Remember is still the best book about the Titanic. Although it does cover the facts, it excels at capturing the spirit of that night and the emotions of the participants.

The Folly of Trusting Technology

 

Today’s blog post is a reprint from June 25, 2012. I have made a few minor changes for formatting and similar purposes.¹

The Folly of Trusting Technology

On a foggy night in July 1956, two passenger liners used the same shipping channel to head in opposite directions. The Andrea Doria was right where it should be, with the captain on the bridge and its foghorn blowing every two minutes. It probably should have been traveling at a slower speed as it sailed through the fog, but radar was supposed to compensate for the loss of visibility.

The Stockholm was heading east in the westbound channel rather than using the eastbound channel twenty miles south. The westbound channel was shorter and faster, and the Stockholm’s captain claimed it crossed the northbound and southbound lanes at a safer point. The action was permissible because use of the designated channels was recommended but not required. After setting a course, the captain retired to his cabin, leaving an inexperienced third officer on watch.

The captain and crew of the Andrea Doria tracked an oncoming ship on radar and determined that the two ships would pass starboard to starboard (right side to right side) at a close but safe distance. The third officer on the Stockholm also tracked an oncoming ship on radar and determined that the two ships would pass port to port (left side to left side) at a close but safe distance. It was only when the two ships were near enough to see each other through the fog that they realized they were on a collision course.

The Stockholm was significantly smaller than the Andrea Doria, but its steel-reinforced bow was made to slice through the ice floes of the North Atlantic. It also proved effective at slicing up the Andrea Doria. It didn’t go all the way through, but it cut open a number of first class and tourist class cabins and sent their occupants to a watery grave.

Forty-four Andrea Doria passengers died from the collision, a child died from a rescue-related injury, a male passenger died from a heart attack while resting on a rescue ship, and a woman died six months later from injuries incurred during the disaster. The death toll on the Stockholm was five—all crew members who were in their quarters in the bow at the time of the accident.

But the number of survivors was the bigger story. In an amazing rescue effort coordinated by the Coast Guard and involving Navy and commercial boats as well as a French ocean liner that turned round to assist, almost 1,700 people were saved in the eleven hours before the Andrea Doria sunk to the bottom of the ocean. And in an ironic twist, the crew of the wounded but still seaworthy Stockholm rescued many of them.²

The shipping companies and the insurer settled the case before it went to trial, so there was no formal finding of fault. From the sources I read, I think it was a combination of circumstances and human error.

But the greatest contributing factor may have been over reliance on technology. Either the radar was wrong or the crew misread it. The Titanic sank because everyone thought it was unsinkable, and the Andrea Doria sank because crew members thought radar was infallible.

It isn’t safe to put too much faith in technology.

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¹ The picture at the head of this post shows the Andrea Doria on a previous voyage and has been artistically doctored to avoid copyright infringement. The pictures of the sinking are incredible, but they are not in the public domain yet. Although I might be able to claim fair use, I’d rather play it safe and refer you to the Internet to find them for yourselves. Or you can see them in the resource books I have listed in the next footnote.

² If you want more information, I recommend Desperate Hours: The Epic Rescue of the Andrea Doria, by Richard Goldstein; The Last Voyage of the Andrea Doria: The Sinking of the World’s most Glamorous Ship, by Greg King and Penny Wilson; or Collision Course: The Classic Story of the Collision of the Andrea Doria and the Stockholm, by Alvin Moscow. They contain a lot of duplicate information, so unless you are doing serious research (as I was), you may want to limit yourself to reading only one. For a more personal view, however, I also recommend Alive on the Andrea Doria: The Greatest Sea Rescue in History, by Pierette Domenica Simpson, who is a survivor of the shipwreck.

A Shipwreck Story

 

Last week I promised to tell you more about my current work in progress. But first I’ll give you a little personal background.

As I also mentioned last week, the first time I crossed the Atlantic Ocean was on the Nova Scotia in September 1957. (The photo at the head of this post shows Mama, my brothers, and I in our cabin back in the days before selfies would have allowed Daddy to be in the picture, too.) I was six years old at the time and was afraid of many things, but I don’t remember worrying that the ship would sink.

That might have been different if I had heard about the shipwreck of the Andrea Doria just over a year earlier. My parents were well-informed about world events, but one of them might have said something like this to the other: “There is no reason to mention the Andrea Doria  to the children. The chances of shipwreck are extremely small, but Kathryn would be terrified if she knew about it.”

As an adult, I’ve always been fascinated by the story of the Titanic At one point I considered writing a book about a protagonist traveling on that fateful voyage. One of my criteria for a historical novel is that there must be enough first-person accounts to make the book emotionally as well as historically accurate. The story of the Titanic has that.

Unfortunately, though, it has been overdone. One of my favorite contemporary authors of children’s historicals recently published a children’s novel that, in my opinion, isn’t up to her usual standards. It felt like she was trying too hard to create something that hadn’t been done before.

I looked around for other shipwrecks that might make a good story and chose the sinking of the Andrea Doria. It also has plenty of eyewitness accounts reported in books about the event, mostly taken from newspaper interviews or interviews conducted by the authors. Equally important, I found only one children’s book about it. There may be more, but a search on the Titanic brings up dozens.

Since my current work in progress is about a girl traveling on the Andrea Doria’s last voyage. I thought this would be a good time to reprint a former series of posts involving other fascinating shipwrecks involving passenger vessels. The others took place in the same decade, forty years before the Andrea Doria sunk, but I’ll start there anyway.

So stay tuned for next week’s post on the sinking of the Andrea Doria.

Movie Memories

 

A week or so ago I watched the 1955 movie Foxfire as research for a book. My stories are fiction and my protagonists are fictional, but the historical context is not, and I like to get my history right. Since my eleven-year-old protagonist watches Foxfire in the book, I did, too.

If any of you have seen Foxfire and wonder why an eleven-year-old would watch it, there was no rating system in 1956 (when my story takes place), and it wasn’t unusual for parents to let pre-teens watch movies intended for adults. If the current rating system had been in effect then, Foxfire would have received a PG-13 at most and maybe even a PG. Except for some kissing, the adult situations are all offscreen and even the references are oblique. It isn’t a good movie, but Jane Russell was the female lead, so it probably did okay at the box office.

Next week’s blog post will give you a peek at the plot of my story. For now, I’ll simply say that my protagonist watches the movie on a transatlantic voyage, and that brings back memories of my childhood.

Growing up in DeTour Village, Michigan, the nearest movie theater was sixty miles away in Sault St. Marie (or the Soo, as it was usually called). Actually, there might have been one in St. Ignace, which was a little closer, but we didn’t go there as often.

The main reason we didn’t see any movies, though, is because Daddy didn’t like spending money if he didn’t have to. Even though we went to the Soo every other Saturday so Daddy could visit people in the hospital, he preferred providing us with free entertainment—exchanging our library books and watching lake freighters go through the Soo Locks.

There was one exception. Daddy actually took us to a double-feature of Ma and Pa Kettle films, which was his type of humor. I’m not sure if that was before or after our sabbatical in Scotland, though.

I crossed the Atlantic Ocean by boat three times as a child. The first eastbound trip was on the Nova Scotia in 1957 on our way to a sabbatical in Jordon. We returned from that trip eight months later on the Queen Mary. My next eastbound trip occurred in 1961 on our way to another sabbatical, this one in Scotland. That was also on the Queen Mary. (We returned home from Scotland by plane.)

It was the second Queen Mary crossing that gave me more movie memories. The fare included free admission to the ship’s cinema, and Mama and Daddy let us see as many films as we wanted. I probably saw several during the five-day crossing, but I remember only one. I’m not positive, but my memory of the plot line and subsequent research leads me to believe it was Parrish, starring Troy Donahue, which is an adult love story not meant for ten-year-old girls. I don’t think it had any lasting effects, but it must have made an impression if I remember it after all these years.

The next time I saw a movie was during high school We moved from DeTour to Lake City, Michigan, between my sophomore and junior years, and Lake City had a movie theater. I saw The Sound of Music there with my mother. She was disappointed because she had read Maria von Trapp’s autobiography and the movie took too many liberties for Mama’s liking.

Then I went away to college, and there were two cinemas in town. Since I had control over how I spent my monthly allowance, my movie famine was over.

Next week I’ll tell you more about the story that required me to watch Foxfire for research.