Waves Astern

Someone counted 23 H-111Ks and JU-88s torpedo bombers, and I wondered why so many were needed to attack one crippled Liberty ship with a cargo of old men, women and children. As I said a prayer, a thought flashed of home and Bea, Dad and Mom, and our families. I quickly returned to the radio room and told Bill that we could expect a hit at any time. I heard our five-inch and three-inch guns, and the 20mm cannon were firing intermittently.

      Gunnery Officer Sippola was a cool and controlled person. He carefully held fire until the lead plane was coming into the range of his shells and then ordered “Fire.” This took out the leader and confused the others. As they regrouped, he repeated the technique until he had brought down at least four and some said five of the 23 planes. 

      Captain Carini handed me a hastily written note, and I returned to the radio room to send the message, “Under attack by enemy planes.”  I added our position and our identifying call letters. I knew that the escort ship’s radiomen were monitoring this emergency frequency, and I received an answer from a Scottish shore station. I went to the bridge and reported this to the Captain. I saw more planes as they turned and began approaching from two directions. I went back and told my friend that our gunners had some success but, “It seems to be only a matter of time before we are hit.”

      Time seemed to stand still. As we sat in silence, I said a prayer for the safety of the ship and crew and passengers. I thought maybe I still had a guardian angel looking out for me. I glanced over at Bill and saw that he was whispering while fingering his rosary beads. We waited for what seemed hours but were actually only a few minutes. We felt a dull thud which shook the ship and almost immediately the stern dropped. I knew the hit was in the aft cargo hold. It was only a few rapid steps to the bridge where the wizened old master was already writing out the SOS message. He said, “Sparks, send this out and then bring the emergency transmitter.” 

      People have often asked me if I was scared in that precarious situation, and I always say, “I have been scared many times in wartime attacks, and yes I was until the moment we were hit and the ship obviously was doomed. My feeling at that moment can only be described as a sudden release of tension.” Once when I was very tired in football practice and once when climbing a mountain, I reached what is called “second wind,” and suddenly I felt exuberant and strong. My breathing, which had been labored, was even and regular. That was how I felt as I went about my duties in a very calm and measured way as I had been taught. I believe that all the years of waiting for something like this had created a subconsciously tense state which was released when the expected hit actually happened. This is hard to explain, and I’m sure it is hard to understand, but it is a fact.

      I sent the SOS and it was answered from Scotland; I knew the convoy’s escort ships had the information. I talked with Bill a few moments, then I took the lifeboat transmitter as the Captain had ordered and reported to him.

      Captain Carini had already put the Norwegians in a lifeboat. Then he selected six of the youngest seamen to get in to handle the oars and control the lifeboat.  He turned to me and said, “Sparks, I’m putting you in with the Norwegians because I feel you are the most experienced to make sure the signals get out so that these people will be saved.” He indicated he didn’t expect the Bacon to remain afloat for long. He seemed to have a first priority of saving the passengers with second priority being the youngest crewmen, then came the ones who would most likely have the skills to handle the chores in the lifeboat. Obviously he put himself last in line to be saved. As I said goodbye I felt I was lucky to have known such a brave man.  

      The lifeboat was successfully launched, and we pushed away immediately because the waves were still 30 or 40 feet deep, threatening to crush us against the side of the ship. Our young crew with their oars and a rudder were able to head the boat at a 90 degree angle to the waves so it would not be swamped by the seas. My task was difficult in such rough water. I had to unleash and erect a two-section mast with an antenna wire across the top and clamp the mast into place at the base. As the boat was overloaded with people, the task was difficult. By the time I finished I was sweating even in that extreme cold. All this and the rapid pitching and rolling of the boat made me sick, and I hung my head over the side and vomited. Then I connected the antenna to the transmitter and with the proper tuning sent the signals that gave