For Posterity's Sake         

A Royal Canadian Navy Historical Project

An Interview with George Crewe, Telegraphist, RCN 

More Tales from a Terra Firma Tar

George Crewe's Time On-Board....Part  II

© Anne Gafiuk 2013

Website - What's in a story by Anne Gafiuk

“The sad part of this whole thing,” George Crewe explains about leaving The Quinte after it hit the rocks off the coast of Nova Scotia at the end 1942, “I never ran across one person that was on that ship.  When we got back to Halifax , I was there roughly two weeks and I was drafted to the Royal Navy’s Witherington I76...and I lost contact with everybody.”  George’s friendships were very important to him back then, and continue to be today.

“It was a First World War destroyer.  It wasn’t made for the North Atlantic , I’ll tell you.  It was colder than heck!  We stayed warm with difficulty.  You had to have your heavy sweater on all the time, believe me.  I still have it, but I think it shrunk...it doesn’t fit all that well,” he bemoans.

“There was a fire on the Witherington and it was pretty exciting!  Where are you going to go?  You’ve got twenty feet width and a couple hundred feet long....fortunately, the fire boat from Boston came out and it did not take very long to get out there. It was an electrical fire.  I maintain there were people on board who did not want to go back out to sea and they set it on purpose.    When we got back into harbour, there were only five Canadians on there and we were all drafted back to Halifax , which is natural because why should we stay there and they pay us.  I never heard what happened after that.”

After George left the Witherington, he went on a course and was sent to another Royal Navy aircraft carrier:  The Campania.  “It was a baby carrier...they sent me over there for supposedly training on a carrier.  I thought I would be sent to a Canadian carrier. I was outspoken with the drafting officer.  I said, ‘What the heck am I going there for training?  Are their dots and dashes different on a carrier than on a regular ship?’  The drafting officer was in an explosive mood that time and he was glad to get rid of me.”

George returned to Halifax and spoke to the same drafting officer some time later.  “He said, ‘Oh, no, not you again!’  I made an impression!”  George laughs.

“I was on the mine sweeper for about seventeen months.  From the mine sweeper, I went to the barracks and stayed there for a couple of weeks. From there I went to the Royal Naval Destroyer.  I would go to the Drafting Office every day.  I asked them, ‘Have you got a draft for me?’  I think I got on their nerves. 

“One day the drafting officer says, ‘I’ve got a draft for you.  Pack your gear.  Be ready in ten minutes.’

“I said to him, ‘Ha!  It’s already packed.’ And it was.  I just left it in my kit bag in my locker. 

“He told me, ‘The truck will pick you up and take you to Jetty Three...here are your draft orders.’  I knew it was a destroyer because Jetty Three is where they are tied up.  I thought, ‘Oh, that would be alright.’ Then there was this goddarned Royal Navy!  ‘What have I done to deserve this?’  I was on that for about four or five months.  Then we went into Boston for repairs and there were five of us Canadians and took us off and we were shipped back to Halifax .

“I then went to Newpoint Corner...a shore station....it was just being built – between Halifax and Windsor.  It was a powerful station.  I was there for four or five months.  Later, I was sent on course then back to Halifax .”

George shares the photos of his ships, all copied onto flat pieces of rock, proudly displayed on his coffee table for ease of reference; on the wall, a plate listing his service and on what ships in chronological order; in his bedroom, a photo of the crew of The Quinte, his favourite of them all. 

More stories pour out of George.  He tells of saving rum, something that was not to be chatted about during one’s RCN service.   “I would get an empty 26 oz bottle....that’s all.....it was sort of a currency.  I used to save it, of course...and when I went on leave, I would give my dad a bottle.  When you went out of the dockyard, you were not supposed to, you know.  I put it underneath my stocking and with the bell bottom trousers, there were so many guys going in and out, they weren’t checking. I never got stopped.  I wasn’t the only one doing this.   This wasn’t something we discussed...you just did it.  You didn’t discuss it with anyone.”  Until now.

George enjoyed his time as a telegraphist but there were challenges.  “We were on the triangle run.  We worked out of Halifax or Sydney or St. John’s , Newfoundland .  We would go part way across with a convoy, drop it because of the escort from the other side.  We would meet a convoy heading west and take them into Boston , New York or Halifax .  Sometimes we would be three or four days --- other times we would just oil up and get supplies sent over and head out with another convoy.

“In 1942, a busy year for the RCN -- they were so short of ships, in particular.  And they just kept us going.  You were not more than 200-300 yards between ships.  They liked to have at least five escort vessels or six...one at the head of the convoy, one on the starboard side, one on the port side at the front and the back, and one trailing.  Almost like a diamond; between thirty to fifty ships in the ‘box’.  None collided, but at night, they had a very dim running light.  So they would turn that on...the only light.  In the fog, it was deadly.  If the fog came up, in the morning, there would be no ships in sight.  The merchant ships were panicky...they were big ships.”  Just like the shepherd looking for lost sheep. “Some we never got.  We couldn’t keep looking for them as you had to get the convoy through.

“We could not send messages.  No!  No.  The only message you could send unless it was a distress signal and when you were coming into harbour.  Your ETA and tell them you would be at Gates of Halifax at such and such an hour and you had to be there, as they were expecting you.  You had to identify yourself when you came in.  Then they would open the gates.  They were like a mesh fence and they would open it up and you would come in and then they would close it again.  It wasn’t wide open.  The gates went right at the narrowest point so they could control it pretty good.  There was a vessel on each side that had a winch on it and then it floated and they would pull it.  The boats were anchored.  The winch did the work.   

“At Scapa Flow , U-boats got in there and sunk a few ships.  Canada did not have submarines and when we got them, I think you would have to volunteer.  There were two things that I would never volunteer for and that was a submarine and going down in a mine!”

There were a few more close calls for George.  “One of the faults of the mine sweeper was its system of making water:  taking in salt water and taking the salt out.  The main bearing, too, was a problem.  And lo and behold, we had both those troubles on The Quinte.  Once were in a convoy and we knew there was a sub in the area.  We thought he was following us.  We had to haul to...that means to stop engines to get repairs done.  We had to take off our boots and shoes, walk around on the deck in our sock feet.  We were not allowed to make any noise or play any equipment or anything while we did this repair.  We could hear the sub go by.  Either he’s asleep or he doesn’t want to bother us because he wants a bigger ship in the convoy.  I’ve often wondered.  It’s always bothered me.  The sub was about a mile away.  He was on the surface....we only heard him.

“I had a good friend who was older, about my dad’s age, and I would go and chew the fat with him. This one time, he was down in the engine room.  We could hear a torpedo under water.  Two of them went under us!  It might have missed us about ten feet down....in other words, it was set too low in the water and it went below us.  It sounded like a swish....the hair on the back of your neck stood right up!” 

George explains the life jackets.  “They were not like the ones today.  They were kapok. They looked like a big vest that would hold you up, supposedly.  Hypothermia would set in just like that. When I joined the Navy I didn’t think I’d come back.  If the ship got torpedoed, I mean, you were lucky if you survived – a maximum of ten minutes in the North Atlantic .  Lots of times.....they never got a chance.  The people down below didn’t have a chance to get into the lifeboats or onto a Carley Float.

“I did get scared.  Every night, we got a Sub Report.  It came from Halifax .  It was picked up by a station in Ottawa who monitored German frequencies.  They were usually women, by the way:  the WRNS.  They intercepted the messages and then passed them to an outfit in London called Belchey Park where the Code Breakers broke it down.  After they captured one German ship, and they managed to get all the codes, then they were able to break the codes just like that.  Every night, the Germans had to send their reports in every day – Intelligence knew this – and the codes would be broken and they would pin point where the subs were and every night we would get a position report.  And you would think, ‘Holy Cow!  We are surrounded.’  But they might have been miles and miles away.  That’s how you knew what was going on.  Being in the Wireless Branch, you just passed it on.  You never told anyone.  It went to the Captain and then to the Executive Officer, and then if there was any action to take, with the whole convoy, the Commodore of the Convoy would change course or what have you, if necessary.  You never, at least I never, told anyone, anything!”

Camaraderie was key to a successful and effective crew.  “On board the sweeper, it wasn’t lax.  We had a really good crew.  Particularly in the winter time, the fellas on the bridge, they would stand watch for maybe twenty minutes or half an hour.  It was cold...and they would take a break.  The gangway or ladder was at the bottom near the Wireless Room.  They would come in for a cigarette or a coffee....they weren’t supposed to.  But on a small ship, they would get away with it.”  George liked the company, too. 

George continues to relate his stories and a few of the antics that happened on board.  “I am not regretting what I went through.  It was an education and a learning curve.  You learn to live with people.  Hey, I can remember when we were at sea for two months – well, not entirely – we’d be out for two weeks, then come in and oil up – sent a signal – they would send over a tender with all our supplies...we did this for two months...we’d go squirrelly.

“Some of the stokers, they were kind of a wild crowd.  They made a still.  They put it in the engine room where the temperature was constant – it never varied.  Everything was going pretty good, making hooch.  We went to battle stations one day.  There was a submarine in the area – and when you go full speed, the whole ship just vibrates and rattles; it agitated the booze they were making and it blew up!”  George stops telling the story to laugh at this memory.  With a huge smile on his face, he continues, “The engine room smelled like a brewery.  When the captain found out, he was livid.  But he thought, ‘No harm done.’  It was only a small quantity, but it was the idea.  It didn’t happen again!”

George comments on some more of the people he met during his seven years with the RCN.  “That’s one of my regrets.  That I did not keep in touch with them.” 

To be continued......