Death of the S.S. Stephen Hopkins

American Liberty Ship SS Stephen Hopkins. Last Stand of the SS Stephen Hopkins. Painting by John Alan Hamilton (1919–1993). (Imperial War Museum)

On Sunday morning, 27 September 1942, the German raider Stier and blockade runner Tannenfels were awaiting a rendezvous with a tanker. Suddenly a ship emerged from a rain squall. She was an American Liberty ship, the  Stephen  Hopkins.  However,  the  German  vessels did not know her name. The captain of the ship, Paul Buck, thought them to be harmless freighters but upon close examination through his glasses, he spotted big guns on the lead ship and went to a General Alarm.

The captain of the Stier, Franz Gerlach, considered her another defenseless target. The Stier (ex-merchant vessel Cairo, HSK 6, ship number Schiff 23 [for signal purposes], Raider J) was armed with six 5.9-inch guns, two 37-mm anti-aircraft guns, four 20-mm anti-aircraft guns, and two 21-inch torpedo tubes (submerged). She also carried two aircraft, and could make 14 knots. Her previous successes were the Gemstone, Stanvac Calcutta, and the Dalhousie.  The Tannenfels withdrew, her captain certain that the Stier could sink the Liberty ship in matter of minutes. This seemed a certainty when considering the green crew and the single 4-inch gun on her stern.

The Stier opened fire at a thousand yards scoring a hit immediately amidships. Another shell exploded in the engine room.

Captain Buck turned the Stephen Hopkins to port to bring the gun to bear on the raider. Captain Gerlach turned his ship to starboard to cut her off. As Ensign Kenneth Willett, the captain of the Navy gun crew, reached the boat deck on his way to the gun he was wounded in the stomach by shrapnel. Some of the crew helped him to his gun where he managed to direct fire at the Stier. The Stier was hit twice as she completed her turn, the first jamming the helm to starboard so that she now only could turn in a circle. The second exploded in the main engine room and severed oil lines to the Stier's engines.

Both ships pounded each other for the next ten minutes, the Stier taking fifteen hits—the Hopkins fast becoming a slaughterhouse, her decks littered with the dead and wounded of her crew. Below, more dead, mostly from the many fires that raged, or choking to death from the smoke or cordite fumes.

Ten minutes later Captain Buck ordered abandon ship but he was not heard as the communications were long gone. Each member of the crew fought his own battle, with the raider and for his life.

Only one lifeboat was in a seaworthy condition. As the boat was being lowered Cadet Edwin O'Hara looked around and saw the gun unmanned. He raced back and began to fire the five remaining shells by himself. The Tannenfels had returned and began to fire. As O'Hara fired the last round the German shells found their mark.

Second Engineer George Cronk and eighteen others escaped in the lifeboat. Four died on their journey towards the Brazilian coast, some 2,000 miles distant.

The Stier was practically an inferno and Captain Gerlach gave the order to abandon ship. German casualties were four killed and thirty wounded. Most of the crew were picked up by the Tannenfels. Later the Stier blew apart with a tremendous explosion.

The Tannenfels searched for survivors of the Hopkins. They found none and circled the spot where she went down, flag at half-mast as a final tribute.

The fifteen survivors in the lifeboat reached shore near Rio de Janeiro on 27 October, precisely one month after the battle.

So rapid and destructive was the fire of the Hopkins that Gerlach thought it carried four or five guns and that he had engaged an auxiliary warship, patrol vessel or even an armored cruiser.

Action of 6 June 1942

The action of 6 June 1942 was a single ship action fought during World War II. The German raider Stier encountered and sank the American tanker SS Stanvac Calcutta while cruising in the South Atlantic Ocean off Brazil.

Background

Stanvac Calcutta was a 10,170 ton tanker with a crew of forty-two merchant mariners and nine armed guards aboard. The ship was commanded by Gustav O. Karlsson and the guards by Ensign Edward L. Anderson. Throughout World War II merchant ships were lightly armed and out of the six to be attacked by German raiders, only Stanvac Calcutta and Stephen Hopkins offered serious resistance and both were sunk. When Ensign Anderson was assigned to the ship he was responsible for finding armaments and it proved to be difficult. Anderson acquired one 4-inch (102 mm)/50-caliber naval gun salvaged from World War I and an 5 in (127 mm)/25-caliber anti-aircraft gun from the same era to arm his ship. Stier was heavily armed, she was under the command of Captain Horst Gerlach and mounted six 150-millimeter (6 in) guns, one 37 mm (1.5 in) gun, two 20 mm (0.79 in) cannons and two torpedo tubes. Captain Karlsson left Montevideo on 29 May 1942 headed north along the coast for Caripito, Venezuela.

Action

A week after leaving Montevideo at 10:12 am on 6 June, the American ship was 500 miles (800 km) east of Pernambuco, Brazil; weather was overcast and the sea rough. Suddenly gunfire was heard and the Americans observed Stier sailing out of a squall and quickly heading towards Stanvac Calcutta almost head on and signaling the Americans to cut their engines. The Germans apparently believed the tanker was an unarmed merchantman. Beforehand Captain Karlsson and Ensign Anderson had planned a course of action for defending the vessel. As soon as the Germans were spotted, Stanvac Calcutta turned to the side to bring her guns to bear and when the raider closed to an estimated 3,500 yards (3,200 m), Ensign Anderson ordered his gunners to open fire. In succession the armed guards fired five shots with the aft 4-inch gun and several rounds of the bow anti-aircraft gun. The last of the five shells struck and disabled a 150 mm gun aboard Stier just before it began delivering broadsides of four cannons and machine gun fire.

Merchant sailors were trained and used to man the anti-aircraft gun; it fired continually throughout the battle though it misfired a few times because of old ammunition. In fifteen minutes of fighting, the Stanvac Calcutta was struck several times in the bridge and elsewhere, killing Captain Karlsson and a few other men. After hitting the Stier, the guards manning the 4-inch gun were reported to have been encouraged and continued firing accurately until shrapnel damaged their weapon. The sights were destroyed but the Americans continued shooting until the ammunition on deck was exhausted. At this time Ensign Anderson ordered two men to retrieve more ammunition from below deck, though as soon as they left, Captain Gerlach maneuvered his ship for a torpedo attack. When lined up, Stier fired one torpedo and it dove into the water and headed straight for Stanvac Calcutta where it detonated on the port side. Water began flowing in and the vessel started listing. A number of additional men were killed in the torpedo explosion and when it was clear that the American ship could not be saved, Ensign Anderson ordered the survivors to abandon ship and he began to lower life rafts.

While operating the crank, Anderson was hit in the back by a piece of shrapnel, paralyzing his legs, but he continued to lower the boat and after looking around to see if anybody else needed help, the ensign slipped over the side into an oil slick. With a broken leg, Anderson swam over to a wounded officer in the water and attempted to pull him to one of the life rafts but the man died of his wound first, and a few moments later the Germans lowered boats and began rescuing the Americans. The Germans fired 148 shells and one torpedo while Stanvac Calcutta fired only twenty-five; hundreds of machine gun rounds were also expended by both sides.

Aftermath

Sixteen merchant sailors and armed guards were killed in action, thirty-seven prisoners were taken, of whom fourteen were wounded, one armed guard died later aboard Stier. Two Germans were wounded and Stier continued raiding for four months, sinking only two more ships before being sunk by Stephen Hopkins in a mutually-destructive battle. SS Stanvac Calcutta was one of the few World War II merchant ships to be awarded the Merchant Marine Gallant Ship Citation. Ensign Anderson was promoted to the rank of lieutenant commander before leaving the navy sometime after the war. The American prisoners were eventually turned over to the Japanese.

Gallant Ship Award Citation

When about 500 miles off the coast of Brazil she was attacked by a heavily armed raider which came up close on her in a heavy squall. Though armed with only a 4″ rifle aft and a 3″ antiaircraft gun the ship tried to escape in a running fight. On the 5th round fired, the STANVAC CALCUTTA knocked out one of the raiders 15 cm guns but the next round from the enemy guns shattered the pointers scope and sight bar. The crew continued to fight the gun by laying without signs until the ammunition magazine was hit and the ship began to sink. With fourteen dead and fourteen seriously injured, the crew was forced to abandon ship and were taken prisoners.

This heroic defense against overwhelming odds caused the name of the STANVAC CALCUTTA to be perpetuated as a Gallant Ship.

Reference

Gleichauf, F. Justin (2003). Unsung sailors: The Naval Armed Guard in World War II. Annapolis, Maryland: Naval Institute Press.

* * *

American Liberty Ship SS Stephen Hopkins

SS Stephen Hopkins was a United States Merchant Marine Liberty ship that served in World War II. She was the only US merchant vessel to sink a German surface combatant during the war.

She was built at the Permanente Metals Corporation (Kaiser) shipyards in Richmond, California. Her namesake was Stephen Hopkins, a Founding Father and signer of the Declaration of Independence from Rhode Island. She was operated by Luckenbach Steamship Company under charter with the Maritime Commission and War Shipping Administration.

Action of 27 September 1942

She completed her first cargo run, but never made it home. On September 27, 1942, en route from Cape Town to Surinam, she encountered the heavily armed German commerce raider Stier and her tender Tannenfels. Because of fog, the ships were only 2 miles (3.2 km) apart when they sighted each other.

Ordered to stop, Stephen Hopkins refused to surrender, and Stier opened fire. Although greatly outgunned, the crew of Stephen Hopkins fought back, replacing the Armed Guard crew of the ship's lone 4-inch (102 mm) gun with volunteers as they fell. The fight was fierce and short, and by its end both ships were wrecks.

Stephen Hopkins sank at 10:00. Stier, too heavily damaged to continue her voyage, was scuttled by its crew less than two hours later. Most of the crew of Stephen Hopkins died, including Captain Paul Buck. The 15 survivors drifted on a lifeboat for a month before reaching shore in Brazil.

Captain Buck was posthumously awarded the Merchant Marine Distinguished Service Medal for his actions. So was US Merchant Marine Academy cadet Edwin Joseph O'Hara, who single-handedly fired the last shots from the ship's 4-inch gun. Navy reservist Lt. (j.g.) Kenneth Martin Willett, commander of the Armed Guard detachment which manned the ship's 4-inch gun, was posthumously awarded the Navy Cross.

The Liberty ships SS Paul Buck, SS Edwin Joseph O'Hara, and SS Richard Moczkowski, and the destroyer escort USS Kenneth M. Willett were named in honor of crew members of Stephen Hopkins, and SS Stephen Hopkins II in honor of the ship itself.

Recognition

O'Hara Hall, the gymnasium facility at the United States Merchant Marine Academy, is named in honor of Midshipman O'Hara.

Captain Paul Buck, master of SS Stephen Hopkins, was given the Merchant Marine Distinguished Service Medal by The President of the United States. For determination to fight his ship and his perseverance in engaging the enemy to the utmost until his ship was rendered helpless. The award was given by Admiral Emory S. Land.

George S. Cronk, Second Engineer on the ship, sailed his lifeboat 2,200 miles for 31 days to save his shipmates. He was given the Merchant Marine Distinguished Service Medal by the President of the United States. The award was given by Admiral Emory S. Land.

SS Stephen Hopkins was awarded the Gallant Ship Award for outstanding courage against overpowering odds by the U.S. Department of Transportation, Maritime Administration.

Name: Stephen Hopkins

Namesake: Stephen Hopkins

Builder: Permanente Metals Corporation

Launched: May 1942

Fate: Sunk in battle September 27, 1942

Class and type: Liberty ship

Tonnage: 7,181 GRT

Length: 441.5 ft (135 m)

Beam: 57 ft (17 m)

Draught: 27.75 ft (8 m)

Propulsion: triple expansion, 2,500 ihp (1,900 kW)

Speed: 11 knots (20 km/h; 13 mph)

Armament:

1 × 4 in (102 mm)/50 caliber gun (Mark 9)

2 × 37 mm cannon

6 machine guns

S.S. Stephen Hopkins sliding down the ways on April 11, 1942. Note the remains of the champagne bottle dangling on the port side of the bow and the temporary concrete block anchor hanging down on the port side.

S.S. Stephen Hopkins just after launching on April 11, 1942.

S.S. Stephen Hopkins fitting out at Kaiser Ship Yard No. 2, Richmond, California, in late April 1942.

S.S. Stephen Hopkins.

Cadet O'Hara fires shells at the Stier. Tannenfels is also on fire in the distance. Painting by W.M. Wilson. 

One of the unsung heroes of World War II, Chief Engineer Rudolph A. Rutz of the Merchant Marine gave up his life while helping to save other crewmen aboard the doomed Stephen Hopkins.

Midshipman Kenneth M. Willett, USNR, halftone photograph copied from "The Side Boy" class book of the USNR Midshipman's School, USS Illinois, November 1940. LTJG Willett was posthumously awarded the Navy Cross for heroism during the action between SS Stephen Hopkins and two German ships, in the Atlantic, September 27, 1942. He commanded the U.S. Ship's Naval Armed Guard Unit.

S.S. Stanvac Calcutta.

S.S. Stanvac Calcutta.

USN Intelligence Report into sinking of HSK Stier (Raider “J’).

Model of S.S. Stephen Hopkins.

 

If Derelicts Could Speak: HMCS Cape Breton, Matane and Coaticook

HMCS Cape Breton (K350), Faroe Islands, October 12, 1944.

by T. W. Paterson

Canada’s fighting ladies of the Second World War: where are they now? What has become of these warriors in gray, many of whom were born in British Columbia shipyards or served on this coast, during the past quarter-century of “peace?”

For some, the final paying-off ceremony has meant new life and useful service as a civilian. For others, the end of hostilities and a decommissioning has meant lingering death in an up-Island breakwater, the ignominious tow to a foreign scrap yard or, for a few, dramatic death on the high seas.

Probably the single exception—and, as far as her service record goes, sole survivor—is HMCS Cape Breton. The old fleet maintenance vessel has, in fact, served two nations during her 27-year career; first with the Royal Navy, in 1945, joining the RCN as a floating training ship in 1953. Transferred from Halifax to Esquimalt five years after, Cape Breton served as den mother to the west coast fleet until placed in reserve in 1964.

Although she never again will put to sea, the dowager yet enjoys a worthwhile role. Her engines removed, she is permanently berthed in Dockyard. At first this duty, after three years’ idleness, had involved acting as floating hotel to men from ships undergoing refit, her complete workshops aiding in the repairs. However, even these lighter tasks have been reduced and, today, only the 10,000-ton Cape Breton’s mess facilities are used steadily.

It may seem a somewhat undignified end to those who are fascinated by ships and the sea. But the aging lady in Esquimalt can take comfort in the fact that she has outlived most of her wartime sisters—if not her namesake. For the original HMCS Cape Breton, frigate, exists yet, although in considerably unhappier circumstances than her successor to this honorable title.

Few who view her remains today would link this rusting hulk and her forlorn comrades in the Kelsey Bay death watch with the historic battle of the North Atlantic. Yet if these breakwater derelicts could speak, they could tell of the dreaded U-boat, of convoy duty in a frigid sea. While guarding the precarious lifeline of war materials between America and Europe that spelled survival and eventual victory for the Allies.

HMCS Cape Breton’s wartime career began with her commissioning in late October 1943. Built in the Quebec City shipyard of Morton Engineering and Drydock Co., the new frigate immediately sailed for Sydney, Nova Scotia, in whose honor she had been named, to begin her new role as convoy escort.

Upon having final adjustments made to her gear in Halifax, she sailed in February 1944, as additional escort to Convoy HX-280, joining the Sixth Escort Group in Londonderry. Repairs to her Asdic dome, damaged during the North Atlantic passage, however, meant further delay in an Irish drydock before she finally took up her duties with EG-6 the following month. Then, after two uneventful patrols, EG-6 was assigned to the notorious Murmansk run.

Cape Breton’s luck “held” once more, the 21-ship anti-submarine escort having little to do on the outbound passage. But the return voyage, to quote the official record, was something else again, being “strongly opposed.”

 “At 1803 on 30 April, when the convoy was steering westward 50 miles south of Bear Island, and just clear of the sea ice, the SS William S. Thayer, carrying Russian naval passengers, was torpedoed. Two minutes later, Cape Breton (four and a half miles ahead of the convoy’s starboard column) sighted a U-boat beyond some ice and twice attacked it with hedgehog. However, her movements were hindered by the ice and she lost the contact. At 0727 the next day she sighted another U-boat when she was out on the starboard beam of the convoy. She made Asdic contact, and attacked, but without visible result.”

But if Cape Breton and her sister frigates and accompanying destroyers were having little success, aircraft from the carrier HMS Diadem boasted no less than three kills in two days, sinking the U-277, U-674 and U-959. This triple victory apparently blunted the underwater onslaught, for the convoy continued unopposed, EG-6 entering Scapa Flow on 4 May.

EG-6’s next assignment promised to be even busier: D-Day. For the remainder of May, the flotilla prepared for the coming invasion. By the end of the month, they were ready to sail from Moelfre Bay, Anglesea, to take up their stations. With five other escort groups, and bolstered by two aircraft carriers, Operation “CA” saw the ships form an anti-submarine net across the entrance to the English Channel and in the Bay of Biscay.

So impregnable was this floating wall of steel that not a single U-boat succeeded in penetrating the channel—not for want of trying, although Operation CA came and passed without EG-6 seeing any action, and Normandy changed the course of history.

The dramatic and irreversible shift in the fortunes of war meant that the German unterseeboote fleet had at long last to abandon its bases in the Biscay ports, which also meant that EG-6’s Channel operations and duties with the Portsmouth Command were ended. Thus, late in September 1944, the squadron sailed north for Scapa Flow, commencing its first patrol between the Orkneys and Faeroes immediately. This time the prey were the U-boats slipping into the Atlantic from German and Norwegian bases. Within two weeks, the group made its first kill, HMCS Annan claiming the inbound U-1006.

Five days later, EG-6 returned to Londonderry, where Cape Breton was reassigned as relief for HMCS Stonetown of C-8 Group, Halifax-bound in charge of Convoy ON 261. This meant that, after handing over the Gulf section of the convoy to its St. Lawrence River escort, Cape Breton returned to Halifax after a hectic absence of eight months.

Ordered on to Shelburne to enter refit, the frigate remained in the hands of dockyard workers until 20 March 1945, clearing for Halifax the next day. Curiously, although the war in Europe had but seven weeks to go, Cape Breton’s last crack at the enemy occurred while en route to Halifax. To her company’s bitter disappointment, the engagement was short-lived, the RCN record stating tersely: “On passage to Halifax that day, Cape Breton made contact with a U-boat, but, being just out of refit, she did not have a full outfit of ammunition aboard, and her organization was not ‘worked up.’”

Consequently the enemy escaped unscathed. When finally the frigate was ready for sea, she was dispatched to Bermuda to work up when, after brief calls at Sydney and St. John’s, she proceeded to Londonderry, escorting Convoy HX-354 during the latter part of her voyage.

Then it was over. May 8, 1945—V E Day—brought a drastic change of orders: instead of joining EG-9, she was directed to Vancouver, via Bermuda and the Panama Canal, to undergo refit for tropical service in the Pacific, over half of her 150-man company having volunteered for this duty.

Three days out of Londonderry, in empty seas, the frigate’s crew raced to action stations when her Asdic operator reported an unidentified contact. It proved to be a false alarm, and HMCS Cape Breton’s last wartime alert. Upon arrival in Vancouver, she entered Burrard Drydock for refit, all work on the weary warrior being halted when the nuclear holocausts of Hiroshima and Nagasaki signaled the end of hostilities in the Pacific. At Esquimalt she landed her stores and, three months after, in January of 1946, she was sold to Wagner, Steine and Greene Co. (Capital Iron and Metals Ltd.).

At least three other wartime sisters, and an old coastal freighter, stand watch with Cape Breton. The faded insignia K-670 and K-678 identify the frigates Fort Erie and Runnymede. From our vantage point on the terminal parking lot, two summers ago, we had been unable to discern the number of the remaining frigate. Alas, the official record is tragically scant also. Of HMCS Fort Erie and Runnymede, Ottawa replied: “We regret that information material … (is) not available and it is not at present possible to undertake their compilation.” Local sources yielded little more. So soon we forget!

Fate has been no kinder over the past quarter-century to other Second World War veterans who continue in this ignoble, if practical, capacity. Besides Kelsey Bay, there is the better-known breakwater of Royston, also a graveyard of broken ships, several of which date back to the romantic age of sail. Here also are the bones of the wartime River class frigates Prince Rupert, Dunver and Eastview; also the destroyer HMCS Gatineau.

Yet another veteran to survive a quarter-century as a breakwater derelict is HMCS Matane, now abandoned at Oyster Bay. Daily, hundreds of passersby on the Island Highway view her forlorn hulk in the shallow depths several hundred yards from shore. If only she could speak! For this old frigate, ravaged by time and man, escaped total destruction by the hair-breadth of a miracle, thirty years ago.

Although, today, she retains little of the graceful, sturdy lines which once identified her as a fighting unit of the Royal Canadian Navy, old K-444 saw considerable action in her brief but busy career. Her day of glory—so spectacularly short of being her day of reckoning—occurred 20 July 1944, when, stationed in the Bay of Biscay, she was attacked by enemy aircraft.

Already the warrior had earned her North Atlantic battle ribbon. In just nine months since her completion by Canadian Vickers of Montreal, as senior ship of EG-9, Matane had seen her share of action against U-boats. The previous spring EG-9 accounted for the U-845 and the U-448, Matane and company then taking their positions in the steel ring securing the Normandy invasion flank from attack by sea.

But this day had been different. On station in the Bay of Biscay, under Comdr. A.F.C. Layard, Matane and sister ships were attacked by Dornier bombers. Immediately upon sighting them, the warships set up a blistering fire.

Unaccountably, three aircraft remained just out of range, almost leisurely skirting the action zone at 10,000 feet. Suddenly those aboard Matane saw three large cigar-shaped missiles leap ahead of the planes, pause, then hurtle seaward. Split seconds later, one careened into the port side of the frigate’s gundeck. Miraculously, the horrifying new weapon, called a glider bomb, or “Chase-me-Charley,” did not explode upon contact, instead veering off into the sea where it erupted alongside with volcanic force.

“If its line of flight had been six inches to the right,” states the official record, “it would have gone down the open ammunition hoist into the magazine, and Matane would simply have disappeared from the face of the sea!”

As it was, the frigate’s thin shell was fractured, her engine room opened to the sea. Bursting pipes filled the compartment with clouds of steam which poured through the wound in her side and scalded seamen frantically attempting to stop the flooding.

As HMCS Swansea urgently radioed for fighter support, HMCS Meon crept in through the billowing mist with HMCS Stormont to throw lines aboard their stricken sister. Taking turns, they towed Matane to Plymouth, the ruptured frigate surviving a second threat in the form of a strong gale that night and the next day.

Besides her injured, Matane’s casualty list stood at two men dead and two missing.

Happily, Matane lived to fight another day. Repaired, she rejoined EG-9 on 7 May 1945—the day before the end of hostilities in Europe. Joining a Murmansk-bound convoy the escort group encountered two U boats within forty-eight hours. But—this time—the engagement ended without so much as a depth charge being dropped, the submarines surrendering peacefully. Boarding parties swarmed over the lethal craft and ordered them to Loch Eriboll.

The brief surrender ceremony proved to be a dress rehearsal for, on 17 May, off the Norwegian coast, HMCS Matane received the submission of twenty German ships, including fifteen submarines. The five surface ships were sent to Trondheim, EG 9 escorting the U-boats to Loch Eriboll and Kirkwall.

Then it was finally over, Matane and weary company returning to Londonderry for the last time, soon joining a Gibraltar convoy before embarking homeward bound Canadian servicemen in mid-June. Passing through the Panama Canal, Matane dropped anchor in Esquimalt Harbor on 14 July 1945.

Then followed the by now customary release to Crown Assets and sale to the shipbreakers. Stripped of engines and equipment, the frigate, so recently revitalized after her near-fatal duel with the glider bomb half a world away, was razed to the deck and resold for service as a breakwater at Oyster Bay. She is there yet, although no longer providing protection from winter gales. Today, a rusting corpse on a quiet beach, recognized by few of the hundreds who drive by daily, she will long be remembered by those familiar with the vital and historic role she played in her country’s defense.

The final wartime veteran to end her career as a B.C. breakwater was the frigate HMCS Coaticook. Unlike her forgotten sisters at Royston, Kelsey Bay and Oyster Bay, however, Coaticook died dramatically, newspaper headlines noting that “200 pounds of high explosive spotted around the mud-caked hull achieved what enemy action in the North Atlantic and the pounding Pacific in postwar years had failed to do.”

For 12 years, K-410 had stood watch in MacMillan Bloedel’s Powell River breakwater until sold to Capital Iron Ltd. for scrapping in 1961. In tow of the Victoria tug Nitinat Chief, she began her final voyage to the cutting torches. However, stiff weather hammered her thin shell mercilessly and, too weak to continue, the old frigate was declared structurally unsound. On 14 Dec., off Race Rocks, Island Tug and Barge salvage expert Jack Daley gave the order to detonate the explosive charges rigged throughout her hulk. Seconds later, described Daley, “Mud and debris flew everywhere. The explosives blew the bottom completely out aft. Amidships, one side was out and there was a great gaping hole in the bow.”

Aboard the tug, crewmen watched silently as the once-proud HMCS Coaticook disintegrated, in black smoke and flying spray. Sinking rapidly by the stern, her rakish bow pointed to the sky, she paused, then slipped beneath the waves. “She died hard,” said Daley. “It’s a terrible thing to watch … kind of makes a lump in your throat.”

HMCS Gatineau, Prince Rupert, Cape Breton, Matane … and so many more: the honor role of Second World War fighting ladies which have ended their gallant careers in the inglorious role of a breakwater in B.C. harbors is long and, for those who are familiar with their records in the North Atlantic, exciting.

But not all have ended this way: Others were blessed with a more merciful death at the hands of shipbreakers, some have earned greater glory in peacetime. Yet others continue today, proudly fulfilling destinies never dreamed of by their wartime builders, a quarter-century ago.

River class frigate HMCS Matane, April 12, 1944.

HMCS Coaticook, K410.

HMCS Coaticook, K410.