The night I surprised a Nazi sub

My father, Capt William Bramhill (1913-97) left extensive notes on his early years and his experience in the Merchant Navy during the Second World War. He didn't often speak of the conflict, but the papers, which came to light after he died, may be interesting to someone. Unfortunately he doesn't mention his own ship in this incident, although it might have been SS DEFENDER.

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It was the fifth night out from Cape Breton, Canada. We had already had contact with a Nazi sub on the third night out. His attack had been unsuccessful by we were aware he would be chattering to his mates, giving them our position.

That fifth night was flat calm and moonlit, with a wondrous display of the Northern Lights, when convoy ships No 027 and 074 blew up with tremendous roars, flames shooting skywards. Our escorts got even busier, and their activities forced the subs back. The convoy's emergency turn to North probably upset the attackers' plans for a dawn strike.

Three nights later, the Nazis found us again. At 2130hrs, IROQUIS blew up near us, sending our crew crashing against bulwarks and the deck. Convoy ship 032 was listing badly and other vessels sheared off course, whistles braying uselessly, to avoid the horror of a multiple collision at the centre of the convoy.

Capt Stevens came out of the wheelhouse and ordered me to my action stations on the port bridge wing as the flaming Iroquis dropped astern. No lifeboats were in the sea around her, but a dark-hulled corvette was searching for survivors, making itself an obvious target. "God help them all," I muttered.

The convoy leader gave the order to turn to starboard, but Capt Stevens, and the masters of McIVOR and DALHANNA, opted to delay to avoid tangling with other ships.

This put us about a half-mile out in "the field", away from most of the other ships. From my position at the oerlikon with Gunner Lewis, I could hear Capt Steven discussing his action. I nudged Lewis and said "I think we are going walkies. Check the gun and keep your eyes open."

As the gap between ourselves and the convoy opened up, Capt Stevens ordered a reduction in speed and brought the helm round to bring the ship on to the convoy's new course.

Suddenly the for'ard lookout shouted that an object - a sub - was moving across from starboard to port bow. Capt Stevens and the chief officer took up a position against the canvas dodgers, as Gunner Lewis shouted: "I've got him, sir!"

I could hear escaping air as the sub blew its tanks to dive, then Capt Stevens ordered "Hard to port ... quickly, quartermaster" and grabbed the whistle lanyard to send a strident warning to nearby ships.

Lewis and I swung our gun on to the dim shape. I snapped off the safety catch and Lewis began firing, directing a stream of fire at the dark shadow. Soon, an aldis signal lamp picked out the sub, now a point to port. Its brilliant beam bathed the U-boat's hull as Lewis's shots danced off its hull. Our midship oerlikon joined in but then a new hell broke loose, as two ships behind us were hit by other members of the wolf pack. The obliging gentleman at my elbow promptly extinguished the aldis light.

We were all aware that our fire was doing our guest no harm, as 303s will not penetrate an armoured hull. But it was a good way of letting off steam, and forced the Nazi captain to dive rather than use his deck gun.

As our target dropped astern, some of our Black Gang from the stokehold joined in the excitement. With fruity Liverpool accents and every profanity from the ’Pool, they unleashed a hail of peeled potatoes at the "Jairmans".

I cannot recall whether the convoy scattered as a result of the sustained attack on us, but the five ships with us proceeded to make a fast exit from the mayhem of the passing night

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Other ships Dad mentions include GOLDSHELL and DELILEAN. He wrote this piece when aged 80 for the 1993 Battle of the Atlantic anniversary. He later said that, when his convoy arrived at Liverpool, the crew of a captured German submarine came out to shake their fists at his ship in particular. I have often wondered if Dad, Lewis and the potato-throwing "Black Gang" crippled the sub. Fanciful, perhaps, but could it also have played a part in helping to crack the Engima code?

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Dad went on to help take troops and supplies to the D-Day beaches on June 7 or 8, and also recalls seeing one of the first doodlebugs flying over London docklands.

He was also at the Italian port of Bari, third officer on the 10,000-ton Harrison ship, Defender, when a 30-minute German air raid sank 16 ships, killing 1,600 people; it was quite likely that at least one of these ships, the US vessel John Bascombe, was carrying mustard gas for possible use by the Allies. Anyone wanting more information on Bari should contact me via www.bramhill.net.

In 1946 Dad switched to the LNER railway fleet at Harwich, Essex, and sailed Harwich-Zeebrugge, then Harwich-Hook, retiring in 1978 as commodore master, Sealink eastern region.

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