Sinking of the Aragon

RMS Aragon, 1908 [Wikimedia]

Saturday 2nd February 1918: Warrant Officer J. Watson of the Royal Engineers, an Old Boy of Bedford Modern School was on board the troop ship Aragon when it was torpedoed and sunk outside the harbour at Alexandria on 30th December. On 1st January he wrote a letter to his father at Bedford describing his experiences that day:

“Sent you a cable yesterday saying that I had arrived safely, but it is after swimming for my life, and I had lost everything I possessed except the clothes I stood in. I never thought I should tramp roads without boots on, but I did last Sunday. The scenes I have just gone through have been awful and most heart-rending. We were torpedoed in sight of our destination, and after those thousands of miles safely. I thank God I am safe with a whole skin. I was twice torpedoed, first on the transport close to which I stood, and again on the destroyer which I mounted to the deck.[1]  After the destroyer was torpedoed I waited a bit, and then dived over the heads of a large number of fellows already struggling in the sea. I thank God for my powers of swimming, which I think saved my life. I swam 100 to 150 yards with all my clothes on except boots, but it seemed like three or four miles. I selected a trawler, and managed to arrive in an exhausted condition, but recovered after a time, and gave a hand to help the trawler men, who were hauling the poor chaps in, but some of them did not survive.”

Source: Bedfordshire Standard, 8th February 1918

[1] Many of the Aragon’s passengers were rescued by the escort destroyer HMS Attack, which was itself torpedoed. Of 2700 men and women aboard Aragon, 610 were lost, including the ship’s captain and twenty five men on their way to reinforce the 5th Battalion of the Bedfordshire Regiment. 

Remembering a Luton Sailor

HMS Vanguard 1915 [Imperial War Museum under IWM Non Commercial Licence]

Sunday 29th July 1917: One of the men lost in the sinking of the HMS Vanguard at Scapa Flow earlier this month was Luton sailor Charles Johnson, the son of Mrs. Johnson of 24 Ash Road. Able Seaman Johnson had been with the Navy for seven years and saw much active service abroad. More recently he had been drafted to the Home Fleet, serving first on a torpedo boat destroyer, and then on the Vanguard for the past seven months. At the time he was killed he was expecting to be sent on leave. His friend, Leading Seaman George Tarton, writes:

“I have been fortunate in serving with him aboard H.M.S. --- in two campaigns, both in the Dardanelles and in German East Africa. Under the most adverse circumstances, he has been the life and backbone of the party, fearless in action, and straight as a die. I myself owe my life to his resourcefulness and courage, but he made me promise to say nothing of it. On one occasion, I remember, we had been through some exceedingly rough weather, and the wind was still high and the sea rough. The ship’s company’s pet, a minor bird, was blown in to the water, and without hesitation, the late Seaman Johnson dived in and saved it, though he had to make three attempts, for he was not a strong swimmer then. I am sure the deepest regret will be felt by the members of the old ship’s company at the news of his death, and they will join me in extending the deepest sympathy to the bereaved family.”

Source: Luton News 2nd August 1917

Nurse Escapes from a Sinking Ship

Market Square, Leighton Buzzard c.1920. Number 22 is on the extreme right. [Z1306/72/11/3]

Tuesday 22nd May 1917: The family of nurse Edith Halford of Leighton Buzzard have been surprised by her unexpected return after she left for service in one of the more distant theatres of war. She never reached her destination, having had a narrow escape when the ship on which she was travelling was sunk. She and other nurses on board spent four hours in open boats before they were picked up by a tug. Miss Halford and her sister were enthusiastic members of the local Voluntary Aid Detachment before the war. For the past two years she has been nursing in an Army Hospital at Cambridge, where she and 56 other nurses were recently selected for foreign service. She is in good spirits and hopes she will be able to return to useful hospital work. Miss Halford’s father Edwin, one of the town’s oldest tradesmen, runs a jewellery business at 22 Market Square.

Source: Leighton Buzzard Observer, 22nd May 1917

Luton Men Lost at Sea

RMS Arcadian, c.1910 [Wikimedia]

Saturday 5th May 1917: Two Luton men are now believed to have died when the SS Arcadian was torpedoed and sunk while carrying troops from Salonika to Alexandria.[1]  Little hope is left for Private Cyril Scoats of 70 Burr Street, and Private Stanley Glenister of Adelaide Terrace. The parents of both young men have received telegrams from Aldershot stating that they are believed drowned. Both were just twenty-one years old and were serving with the Royal Army Medical Corps.

There is better news of brothers Private Archie Holdstock and Bugler Robert William Holdstock of 4 Holly Walk Luton who both survived the disaster. Archie has written to his mother as follows:

“On April 15th we were nearing some islands, and it was fifteen minutes to six when we were torpedoed. Only just a quarter of an hour before that we had a boat parade. In this case every man has to stand by the boat he has to make for in case of alarm. We had not long had tea when the Arcadian was hit, and at the time I was fortunate enough to be on deck. A service was going on at the time as it was Sunday, and most of the men, I think were gathered round. The first thing I did when she was hit was to make for my boat, and I had a good deal to do to get through the rush. I managed to get to the boat and I met Bob. By this time, the boat was sinking fast, and we managed to lower the small boat. Everyone seemed to be making for this one boat, because other boats had turned head first in lowering, and, of course, not many rafts had been lowered. Well, our boat was nearly full when I and Bob slid down the ropes into it. In doing this I tore my hands nearly to pieces, but Bob managed to get only slight injuries. It was soon after we got into the small boat that we pushed away from the torpedoed ship. We saw terrible sights, but it has surprised me since to see the large number saved in such a short time. The boat we were in was only supposed to carry 50, and the number we had in it at the time was 70. The nearest land was some considerable way off. We were rowing away very well, taking our turn in rowing, but some, of course, like myself, were unable to because of the state of our hands. Bob was a good lad. He was rowing for a period of four hours, so you see everyone who could was eager to do something. It was just six hours after the Arcadian had sunk that we reached land.”

Sources: Leighton Buzzard Observer 15th May 1917; Luton News, 28th June 1917

[1] The Arcadian sank within six minutes of being hit with the loss of 279 lives. 

Luton Men Describe Sinking of Troop Ship Tyndareus

Wednesday 18th April 1917: Two Luton soldiers have written describing their experiences on the transport ship Tyndareus, which sank after hitting a mine off the coast of Africa on 6th February. Corporal Stephen Toyer of the Middlesex Regiment, whose home is at 15 Tavistock Street, wrote to his mother:

“You no doubt know what happened to our ship on the night of February 6th. Thank God, I have got through with my life! That is all, as I have not anything at present – lost everything, kit and money, etc. I have only got a cap, shirt, and trousers. … It was a godsend the Lord gave us a moonlight night, or we should not have got off so easy as we did, for I got drenched with water caused by the crash.”

Private Frederick Gilbert wrote the following to his wife, who lives at 42 Albert Road:

“I suppose you have heard about us having an accident to our ship. We reached Cape Town on February 5th, and after a march through the town started again for the next port. We had been on the water twelve hours and three quarters when there was a bang near the fo’castle. Two ships came to our assistance and we were all saved. How near to death we must have been! Lucky the sea was calm to what it is generally. We were 108 miles from Cape Town. … I thank God that we have been saved from a watery grave. The people here [at Wynberg] are very good to us. They gave us a concert, and the Town Hall is open to us. We get black grapes, for which you would have be pay 1s 6d a pound for, for 1½d a pound. We each had a bag of tobacco and a handkerchief given to us, for which they subscribed in the town.”

 Source: Luton News 19th April 1917

More News of Lieutenant Lansberry

SS Appam [Wikimedia]

Monday 21st February 1916: The parents of Lt. Thomas Lansberry of Bedford have heard more news of their son, who was taken prisoner last month by a German raiding party which captured the ship on which he was being invalided home from West Africa.  In a letter from Dr. S. Deane of the West African Medical Service they were told:

“I knew your son very well indeed, and he was under my charge on the Appam. As you doubles know, all the military and naval officers were transferred to the raider, and I myself was also placed for a time in that ship, but subsequently released. I therefore know the conditions under which those detained on board lived. Needless to say there was discomfort and inconvenience, but the attitude of the Germans was quite kindly. The food was not plentiful but sufficient for health, and exercise is allowed every day. The unpleasant time is of course when the ship is in action, the suspense of not knowing what is happening. He had been in quite good health on the Appam, but I was very sorry to hear he had not been too well on the raider when the lat of those allowed to return to the Appam left. I regret that I cannot tell you any more except that the doctor on the German boat was a nice man, and seemed very competent; also the ship was extremely well fitted with medical requirements of all kinds, and I think you can rely on it that should he require any treatment he will receive every possible attention. There are about six or eight of our men on board, all extremely nice men, so he is among good friends."

Source: Bedfordshire Times, 25th February 1916

Lucky Escape for Private Parrish

Hospital Ship Anglia [Wikimedia]

Friday 26th November 1915: Brave Gravenhurst soldier Private Cyril Parrish of Gravenhurst exclaimed cheerfully “Come on, boys; take my rifle, I am going for a little holiday” when he was hit by a bullet while guarding a trench. Seriously wounded when the shot entered the side of his neck just below the ear he was unconscious for four days. However Private Parrish’s bad fortune turned to good when his evacuation to England was delayed as there was no room for him on the hospital ship Anglia; as the Anglia crossed the Channel on 17th November carrying 390 wounded officers and soldiers it struck a mine and sunk within fifteen minutes with the loss of 134 men. Private Parrish is now waiting for an operation at Taplow Red Cross Hospital. His mother has visited and found him very ill but most cheerful. The young man was in Canada at the outbreak of the war and joined the 2nd Canadian Battalion.

Source: Luton Times, 3rd December 1915

Lost with the Lusitania

RMS Lusitania (Wikimedia)

Monday 10th May 1915:  After last week’s terrible news of the sinking of the RMS Lusitania off the coast of Ireland [1] it now appears that two Luton men are among those lost. Thomas Edward George Bodell, the son of Mr Thomas Bodell of Clarendon Road, Luton, emigrated to Canada ten years ago and was returning to Britian for the first time. He was travelling with his wife and their two year old son. None of their names have appeared on the lists of survivors and it must now be assumed that they are among the victims of the disaster. Mrs Bodell’s brother has travelled from Cardiff to Queenstown in Ireland to try to identify his sister and her family, but so far without success. Thomas Bodell attended Waller Street School in Luton. He then served an apprenticeship at Hayward, Tyler and Co. and worked in London for a time before leaving for Canada, where he went into business as a brass and electrical fittings maker in Toronto. He was a former secretary of the Luton Amateur Football Club. His father says his 33 year old son had disposed of his Canadian business and was returning to England with the intention of enlisting.

Mr Robert E. Dearbergh, who was travelling as a saloon passenger on the Lusitania, is also believed lost. His brothers carried on one of the leading plait businesses in Luton for many years, although he himself has lived in New York for some time. His brother, Fred Dearbergh of St. Albans, has also travelled to Queenstown but has found no trace of the missing man. Mr. Dearburgh, a bachelor aged 52, last lived in Luton some twenty-five years ago. A well travelled man, he was considered an accomplished linguist. He was returning to Britain to place his abilities and experience at his country’s disposal.

Source: Luton News, 13th May 1915; Leighton Buzzard Observer and Linslade Citizen, 18th May 1915

[1] The Lusitania was torpedoed on 7th May 1915, with the loss of 1201 lives.

---

[2] More about the sinking of the Lusitania and the Lutonians lost in the disaster can be found on the Luton WW1 website.

Bedford Man's Son Lost on the Falaba

Lieutenant William Nicholas

Friday 2nd April 1915: The news has reached Bedford that Lieutenant William J W Nicholas, the second son of Mr William Nicholas of Park Avenue, Bedford, is among the passengers missing from the civilian ship Falaba which was torpedoed by a German submarine last Sunday. The Falaba left the port of Liverpool on Saturday evening bound for West Africa, carrying 147 passengers and 95 crew. She was torpedoed by a submarine, which first whistled three times for the Falaba’s  boats to be launched.[1] The first boat was sunk, either by a torpedo or a shell, the second and third capsized, and only one boat, carrying fourteen men, got away. The trawler Eileen Emma of Lowestoft was close to the submarine when the torpedo was fired and saw it strike the Falaba in the engine room. The ship sank quickly, throwing the passengers into the water. Witnesses stated the submarine circled the sinking vessel, with her crew laughing and jeering at the drowning men. Eileen Emma picked up 116, including eight dead – among them Captain Davis. Another steam drifter, the Wenlock picked up six alive and two dead and a third, the Orient II picked up the fourteen men from the lifeboat.

First reports stated that the crew and passengers of the Falaba were safe, so Mr. Nicholas was not too alarmed about his son, but as further details came through he has been unable to find out what has happened to him and his name now appears among those missing. Lieutenant Nicholas is 29 years old and was born at Plymouth, where he was educated at Plymouth Hoe Grammar School. After leaving school he joined the Eastern Telegraph Company. He worked first in Madeira, then in Rio de Janeiro, Santos and the Malay Straits. Last year he was home on leave, before returning to the Straits in June 1914. When war broke out he returned home, arriving at Bedford in December. He obtained a commission in the 3rd Battalion (Notts and Derbys) of the Sherwood Foresters and was stationed at Plymouth. He had just paid a short visit to his parents at Bedford and was leaving to take a duties on secondment to the Expeditionary Force in West Africa. [2]

Source: Bedfordshire Standard, 1st, 9th and 30th April 1915

---

[1] British merchant vessels had been ordered to paint over their names and fly a neutral flag. In response Germany had declared the waters surrounding the United Kingdom a war zone in which any merchant ship could be immediately destroyed. One of the passengers who died was American mining engineer Leon Chester Thrasher. The “Thrasher incident” and the death of so many civilians led to an outcry which came close to bringing the USA into the war. However witness statements to the effect that the submarine, U-Boat U-28, had given Falaba sufficient warning to allow it to offload passengers but that the Falaba had used the time to radio the position of the submarine to British patrol ships, averted the diplomatic incident.

[2] Lieutenant Nicholas’s death was subsequently confirmed, and on Monday 26th April his father received news that his son’s body had been washed ashore at Lelant near St. Ives, Cornwall. An inquest was held at Lelant and Lt. Nicholas was buried at his father’s birthplace, Calstock in Cornwall, alongside his mother and younger brother, who ironically had also died by drowning. 

A Sea Voyage to the Dardanelles

Cunard Line RMS Franconia [Wikimedia]

Sunday 28th March 1915: In a letter home on 25th February Captain John Longuet-Higgins mentioned that his brother Kenneth was about to set off for service abroad. While his brother is in hospital recovering from a wound received at Neuve Chapelle Acting Lieutenant Kenneth Longuet-Higgins has been on board the Cunard ship RMS Franconia[1] sailing to the Dardanelles, where the Ottoman forces are under naval bombardment. He has been keeping his mother informed of his progress. 

4th March

There is in me a feeling of profound thankfulness, which is bursting to express itself somehow. Hence this letter. For are we not passing at this moment the St Vincent light and shan’t we pass Gib at midnight, having come right through the Bay and found it calmer than I’ve seen the river at Turvey sometimes? Everything in this ship is wonderful, especially the food. Beastly bad training for the bully beef to come, but still it isn’t our fault.

7th March

The weather has been absolutely glorious. We passed Gib at night and did not put in there so we missed seeing the Rock which was rather a pity. But all yesterday we were running in sight of land, the most glorious mountains, quite blue they looked. We fetched up here about lunch-time today. Malta looks rather a funny place, rather like the models of Jerusalem you see at SPCK exhibition stands. By the way I don’t think I shall ever approve of the Daylight Saving Bill. They play awful pranks with the clock here and on two occasions I have had to wait an extra hour for my lunch and on two other occasions I have found myself half an hour late for breakfast. That kind of thing won’t do, you know, will it?

10th March

We are now at sea again having left Malta yesterday. We were allowed leave on Monday afternoon and I went ashore. We saw all the sights. There have been sports on board this afternoon and I’ve come in here (the library-writing room) to more or less recover from hysterics, a complaint the whole ship’s company was suffering from half an hour ago.

14th March

 Here’s Sunday and we’re still on board this palace, and likely to remain here so far as I can see, though we may possibly, some of us, land and camp on this island, [2] where we are in harbour now along with some warships and a good many transports. By jove, it is ripping scenery and the weather is grand. We came up right through the archipelago with land all round you sometimes. There are mountains all round us now, some of them snow-capped.

21 March

We are getting jolly sick of this ship, as we haven’t been able to land more than once or twice, as it has been too choppy for the boats. There is no landing place of any sort you know, and last time we went ashore it was a bit of a scream. To start with they dished us out with a flat-bottomed canvas concern instead of one of the ordinary ships life boats. We got the four guns on board all right, and then all the men. Off we pushed and the fun began. It was quite a stiff wind and we made pretty bad going in our old tub. After about an hour pulling we got quite close in and then blowed if a squall didn’t catch us, blow us right out of our course, and biff, we went on a rock. We managed to push off but got blown hopelessly down wind and it was practically impossible to beat up again, being overloaded. Then the oars began to break, and finally one of the ship’s life boats put out and took us all on board. [3]

Source: Letters of Kenneth Longuet-Higgins. HG12/10/152-156

---

[1] The Franconia was sunk by a U-Boat 195 east of Malta on 4th October 1916, with the loss of 12 out of 316 crew members.

[2] Lemnos

[3] Acting Lieutenant Kenneth A L Longuet-Higgins R.M. died of wounds on 5th May 1915, aged just 18.

Mrs Chaldecott’s Sea Voyage Continues

Telegram from Evelyn Beatrice Chaldecott [Z186/13]

Wednesday 27th January 1915: Mrs Evelyn Beatrice Chaldecott has sent more news of her sea voyage to India to her mother in Bedford. They had a rough crossing of the Bay of Biscay during which she and her four year old son Gilbert were both sick as the ship “pitched and rolled and then gave horrid corkscrew motions”; mercifully the French governess was fine and looked after both of them and also the little girl in the next cabin whose nurse and grandmother were both ill and whose mother had a small baby to care for. Poor little Gilbert had a pain and whimpered “I wish there was no sea and no boats”. The weather had since improved and they were able to spend time on deck. Except for the early dinner and the shortage of space in the saloon she does not mind being second class on such a luxurious boat. The food is quite good and the cabins are better than first class on the City Line. There is a large fan in their cabin free of charge, which normally cost a guinea extra.

On Sunday 10th they stopped at Malta from 8am until 3pm and were all able to go ashore. They drove out to some gardens and saw orange and lemon groves. As she did not want to take Gilbert among the crowds they stayed inside a “horrid little carriage without springs” and found Malta disappointing – “bare and brown and dusty”. As passengers have left the ship there are plenty of empty cabins so Mademoiselle Coller was given a two-berth cabin of her own and she and Gilbert had their cabin to themselves. They received Marconi News each day but no casualty lists. She hopes they “are not very awful”.

As the journey progressed Mrs Chaldecott made an “awful discovery”. At first she had thought that the governess was asking for a little brandy each day to ward off seasickness but the woman’s behaviour increasingly aroused her suspicions. After Mademoiselle got her own cabin things “went on more smoothly” until the Wednesday before they landed when her temper and rudeness were intolerable. She discovered from the chief steward that the governess had bought three bottles of brandy, various other drinks, and the stewardess took a bottle of beer to her cabin each night. For final confirmation she took the ship’s doctor to the woman’s cabin. “She knew she was caught and was simply furious, sobbed and cried and said I was very unkind and told all sorts of lies … He said of course she had been drinking heavily and was evidently an old hand and he fancied she took drugs too”. When they arrived at Bombay on 22nd January she was obliged to send Mademoiselle Coller home by the next boat, the Arabia which left the following day.

Source: Letters from Evelyn Beatrice Chaldecott to Mrs Cochrane-Forster, Z186/10-14

Bedford Man Survives Wreck of HMS Formidable

HMS Formidable (Wikimedia)

Monday 11th January 1915: A Bedford man was the last man to leave HMS Formidable before she sank off Portland Bill after being hit by two torpedoes in the early hours of New Year’s Day.[1] Alfred Joseph John Hart, the son of a railway porter at Bedford, joined the Navy four years ago aged 17 and was serving on Formidable as an officers’ steward. He has described how he survived the wreck:

“I was in my bunk when I was awakened by the dull boom of an explosion on the starboard side of the boat. I rushed on deck at once, and heard the order given for the boats to be got out. This was no easy task, for the vessel had listed considerably, and a heavy sea was running.”

“The boats were got away, and the occupants told to keep away from the ship for a time. The order was then given, ‘Every man for himself,’ and the crew were told to get pieces of wood or anything they could cling to when the vessel sank. All the boats had left the ship when the crew of one cried ‘Room for one more!’ Two of us tossed for it, and the other chap won, but he said ‘You have got parents; I haven’t. Go on, jump for it.’ I had to swim for it.”

“As the boats drew away we could see the crew striking matches to light their cigarettes and pipes. A piano had been pulled up on deck, and ragtime was being played to keep up the spirits of the men. There were about 60 of us in the boat I was in. The sea was very rough, and the cold was awful. The waves washed over us repeatedly and nearly swamped the boat, and we were constantly baling it out with boots or anything that would hold water. The coxswain was a good sort and did his best to cheer us up, and the men sang at times.”

“After a while we found ten of the crew were dead. Seven more died when in sight of land, and these were buried at Lyme Regis. I was unconscious when we landed, but  they told me afterwards that we touched shore between 12 and 1. We had been in the boat all day, nearly 20 hours.”

Source: Luton News, 14th January 1915

A Sea Voyage

S.S. Kaiser-i-Hind [Z186/5]

Tuesday 5th January 1915: Mrs Cochrane-Forster of 20 Kimbolton Road, Bedford has received letters from her daughter Bee who sailed for India with her four year old son Gilbert and a French governess Mademoiselle L. Coller.[1] They left London on the P and O vessel S.S. Kaiser-i-Hind on Saturday 2nd January, travelling second class. She says there a large number of sailors on board the ship travelling to Gibraltar; these are also travelling second class apart from the officers who are in first. As a result the small second class saloon is rather overcrowded, though she anticipates matters will improve once it is warm enough to sit on deck.

On the first night the ship anchored off Southend and the passengers were instructed to draw the curtains over the portholes. On Sunday night they anchored at Plymouth, where she was able to have the letters taken ashore. The food on board is quite good, though the children’s breakfast is at the early hour of 7.30 and the adult passengers dine at the “awful hour” of 6.30, which leaves both Mrs Chaldecott and the governess hungry and struggling to sleep. Gilbert, fortunately, is sleeping well. Both Gilbert and Mademoiselle are fine but she is suffering from some motion sickness, though she is all right “if I lie down a good deal”. Fortunately Mademoiselle “really is being a brick” and is taking good care of the little boy.

They have seen some wrecks from the terrible gales and a submarine quite close. On one occasion they were stopped by a government boat. She was told by a sailor that the mine field is altered each night, so the pilots have to be told the safe channel every day. Gilbert has made friends with two little boys who are travelling to Egypt with their baby sister to rejoin their parents, and with a little girl travelling with her mother. There is plenty of deck space for the children’s games and Bee finds it “a very fine boat”. She was anxious for a time as she was unable to track down the case of milk she had brought with her, but it eventually turned up in the butcher’s refrigerator.

Source: Letters from Evelyn Beatrice Chaldecott to Mrs Cochrane-Forster, Z186/6-7

---

[1] Mrs Evelyn Beatrice Chaldecott was the wife of Captain William Henry Chaldecott of the Royal Engineers. In the letter the governess is called Mlle Collins, but the ship’s passenger list gives her name as Coller.