By Ian Wilson

For four long years the Battle of the Atlantic had been raging in which allied seamen were dying every day, as they fought to get life-saving convoys to the UK.

And the memories of this horror are recalled in the recollections of a marine engineer from South Shields, a town which was to suffer grievously at the hands of Germany’s U-boats with thousands of its seamen and engineers lost due to enemy action.

The late Jack Wilson’s story, which came to light quite recently, begins on a semi-tropical night, 27th May 1942. He was second engineer in the Moor Line’s 4,457 ton Yorkmoor which was about 200 miles south of Cape Lookout off the North Carolina coast and expected to be there by the next evening.

Yorkmoor, built by Readhead’s in South Shields, had a crew of 45 and was commanded by a Shieldsman, Captain T. H. Matthews. She had loaded bauxite in the British Virgin Islands and was heading for New York and on to Halifax, Nova Scotia, to pick up a convoy for Liverpool.

Jack Wilson recalls:

The time was 9.12pm. I had finished my watch in the engine room at 8pm and had bathed and changed and was ready for supper which the messboy had placed in my berth.

I had a first-class thirst at the time due to a very hot shift in the engine room and eagerly looking forward to opening a can of beer of which I had bought several at St. Thomas a few days earlier.

Suddenly in the distance I heard what I thought to be the report of a gun and seconds later a crash occurred just forward and below my cabin on the port side of the ship. This was followed by the roar of escaping steam and I learned later that a shell had penetrated the hull of the ship and burst on the boiler tops fracturing some steam pipes.

I immediately rushed outside to see what was happening. It was a beautiful tropical night with the sea dead smooth and a glorious moon. In the distance, say about two miles away, could be seen flashes from the guns of a submarine, one gun firing tracer and star shells and the other high explosive.

Going back to my cabin I seized my lifebelt and prepared to move to the starboard side of the ship which was more sheltered. As I got to the door of the alleyway a shell hit my cabin, blowing it to pieces, in fact devastating all the engineers’ accommodation on that side of the ship.

The blast blew me through the door head over heels and my lifebelt disappeared. I picked myself up and crawled to the, starboard side. By now the firing had become rapid and our own guns manned by DEMS gunners were answering though somewhat spasmodically.

The main engines had been stopped and Yorkmoor was sitting motionless in the water, an ideal target in the bright moonlight. Further hits were registered by the German gunners and it was reported that the stokehold and the engine room were making water fast. It was evident that she could not last much longer.

Captain Matthews gave the order to abandon ship and we made our way to the lifeboats. The firing ceased for the moment, the submarine moving around us to commence operations from the other side and before we got the boats launched we were under fire again. Launching a lifeboat while under shellfire is not a pleasant task. However, both boats were got away safely and without anyone being hurt.

I was in the port boat wielding an amateurish oar but we made progress and eventually joined the starboard boat about a mile away from our ship. My boat, having made water rapidly due to shrapnel holes and damaged seams, was abandoned for the moment. The whole ship’s company transferring to the captain’s boat thus making a total of 45 souls in the one boat.

We sailed around for a while using the oars and removed the provisions and fresh water from two life rafts which we located in the darkness by their torch lights which had automatically switched on as they entered the water.

A little later we heard the noise of the submarine’s engines coming towards us and we thought that having finished our ship off, he was coming for us which was correct. We all sat still expecting anything but all that happened was that the commander asked a few questions about the name of our ship, tonnage and destination. He then cleared off into the night. By this time Yorkmoor had gone down.

Early next morning the captain called for volunteers and the damaged boat was baled out, holes were plugged and seams caulked and she was made seaworthy after several hours’ hard work. After the sails were hoisted she proved to be the best sailing boat of the two.

After breakfast which consisted of one small dipper of water per man and three biscuits each both boats set sail and we shaped our course for the coast of America 300 miles away. For two days both boats stayed together but it was decided that the faster of the two should go ahead at his own speed.

Having abandoned ship in a hurry like many of the crew, Jack Wilson’s only clothes were a singlet and a pair of trousers. Sharks were continually following the boat and sometimes bumped the side to try to upset it. They sighted two ships and two planes but failed to attract their attention.

At the end of a week in the boat lack of food and exposure was beginning to make them all weak but were cheered when two planes appeared and both signalled that they had spotted them.

One circled around for about two hours while the other went in search of help

says Jack.

Anxiety changed to joy when an American Coastguard cutter appeared and took us on board.

They were taken to the US Navy base at Norfolk, Virginia, and eventually repatriated back to the UK. During those seven days in the lifeboat they had sailed and navigated 300 miles and were only 20 miles from the coast when rescued. The other lifeboat was picked up shortly afterwards.

After the sinking the U-boat headed east for the West coast of Africa where she became involved in another action that was to go down in history as the Laconia incident.