THE SINKING OF THE TROOPSHIP ‘SOUTHLAND’

The following locals are on board the ‘Southland’ when it is torpedoed.

Pte Thomas Eales (Olinda), 21^st Battalion

Pte Harry Dawson (Lilydale), 21^st Battalion

Pte Leslie Jack (Lilydale), 21^st Battalion

Pte Richard Plummer (Olinda), 21^st Battalion

Cpl James Drummond Burns (Lilydale), 21^st Battalion: In a letter to his father he writes – ‘I wonder if you have heard yet of the torpedoing of our transport. If the news has reached Australia I do hope that they have added that the number of casualties is very small. Up to now about twenty-five bodies have been found, and I believe about ten more are missing. All my friends are safe except Charlie Gunn, of whom we have not heard anything yet, but I am hoping that he may be on one of the other boats. At present I am writing in the dispensary of the torpedoed boat, but I must run through the events of the last twenty-four hours and tell you what has happened.

At a quarter to ten on the morning of the day before yesterday (September 2^nd, 1915) we were on guard on the poop deck aft. I was just preparing to take round a relief when I heard a thundering crash, and saw a dense cloud of black smoke rise up from forward. At the same time there was a quivering shock, and the engines stopped. Just for a moment there was a tense pause, and I could literally feel the blood leaving my face. Then there was a confused rush for lifeboats, and some began lowering away the boats.

Somehow I never doubted from the first that we had been torpedoed. I suppose because the possibility of it had been brought home to us all by the preparations and safeguards viz, sentries and machine guns posted along the ship’s railings. None of these, I think, saw anything of the submarine, although some of the guards saw the torpedo coming. We had a gun and she fired once, but without hitting the submarine, and I doubt even whether the gunner really saw her, although he said he only missed her by a yard.

At the moment we were struck I had no lifebelt on, and the first thing I did was give a hurried glance round to find one. Fortunately I discovered a spare one, and felt a lot safer with one around me. Most of our fellows were quite cool, and when I tried to get them to fall in they did so quite readily. Unfortunately, however, there was no officer present to take charge, and they were soon piling into the boats, though in a fairly orderly way. There were four lifeboats on our deck, and these were quickly lowered away, full to overflowing.

The ship had sunk a bit, and was on a list to starboard, but she seemed fairly steady, and I was inclined to think that she would not sink. However, everyone seemed to be doing his best to get away as quickly as possible, and in the water I could see swimming about a number of those who had decided to jump for it. It struck me that I would have to do the same thing if she showed signs of sinking suddenly, so I took off my putties, and loosened my boots.

On the starboard side, and some miles distant, there was a high, rocky island, and it seemed to me that it might be possible to reach this by swimming, although half an hour later, in the boat, I had quite altered my opinion on that point. At this time I had lost sight of all my friends. Most of them, I think, had gone in the lifeboats, except Mr Whitehead.

The two of us now climbed to the deck above where there were eight collapsible boats, and worked at the launching of these. They were frightfully unwieldy things and had to be practically lifted off their frames. This was most difficult, as it was only safe to work on them from one side, because once lifted they swing outwards, and would have swept anyone right off the deck. It was in this way a very pitiful accident occurred.

I had helped to launch a couple of boats, working under the direction of others, as I had very little notion of what it was best to do, and we were getting a third away, under the direction of Lieut-Colonel Hutchinson and Lieut Macneil who were working themselves as hard as any. I, with three or four others, was pulling on one of the davit ropes from below, and as it was getting jammed in the pulley block an old sailor – one of the crew – went over to put it right. He was warned, and I think he knew the danger, but was willing to risk it. All at once the boat was raised clear, and swung heavily and strongly outwards, crushing his ribs against the davit. He fell unconscious, and I could see that he was terribly injured. I helped to lift him aboard the boat, and then half a dozen of us got in and raised the canvas sides.

Another man, who had been badly injured by the explosion, was lifted in too, and then she was lowered down into the water, and the others came down by the ropes. Lieut Macneil, who was in charge of the boat, called to Colonel Hutchinson to come down first, and as he slid down I caught him. He seemed very exhausted, and said to me, ‘We are all right now, old fellow,’ or something to that effect. It wasn’t long before we had enough on the boat, and we began to push off.

One of the last to come was Whitehead. He dropped into the water and swam a few strokes to the boat, and was pulled in. We took one on board after him. This was one of the ship’s boys, who got halfway down the rope, the end of which was still in the boat, when we were already a little way out. He thought that we were going without him, and began to weep, but it wasn’t long before we had him on board. After that we pushed off, and cruised about the ship for a while, taking two or three men out of the water, as we were not overcrowded.

There were still a few left on board, but only a couple more boats put off after us, and the remainder, except a few officers and the men who stayed to work the ship, were taken off by a hospital ship which came to the scene an hour or two after. At that time the ship did not look to me at all like sinking, as a matter of fact she steered into this harbour that evening, and has been around here ever since.

However, concerning ourselves. It was a fine afternoon, and the sea had not appeared rough from the deck of the steamer. From our little boat, however, the aspect differed considerably, and all we could do was to keep her head on to the wind. I took an oar as long as I could, but it wasn’t long before I got miserably seasick, and I am afraid I was helpless from then on until we were picked up…..

We were in the collapsible boat for about three hours, and were then picked up by the Hunnie (note the spelling), a German prize steamer, on the way from Alexandria to here (Mudros Harbor). She was a beautiful little craft, as clean as a new pin, and I remember vividly what a joy it was to be on her clean steady deck after tossing about in the crowded boat.

One boat load has already been picked up and amongst these I was glad to find my friend Montgomery. The sixty or seventy who came in these two boats were all that were taken on board, so we had plenty of room. The dead man in our boat was sown up in canvas and put overboard with a few verses of the New Testament said over him. Poor fellow, I won’t forget his white drawn face as I lifted him into the boat.

We sailed into Mudros Harbor about sunset that evening. It is a fine large harbor, full of ships, both naval and mercantile. There is no town, but two or three villages round the bare hilly shore. The next morning we sailed up the harbor and soon after we were transferred to the Southland, which had come in the previous evening under her own steam, and was aground in a little bay, where, in fact, she still is. We were there that night and all the next day, and came over here where we have been since….

Charlie Gunn was missing up to this morning, but a couple of hours ago I heard that his body had been found in the hold of the Southland. Everybody is terribly sorry about it. He was a splendid chap, and so fond of his mother and the girl he was engaged to. It will be an awful blow to them. You will have heard of course, that Colonel Linton was drowned. His boat was overturned, and he did not survive the shock, as he was unconscious after being in the water more than half an hour….

Lindsay Adams, my friend at Scotch, who was also on board, is still missing. His brother is here, and had not given up hope, but I am afraid he has gone too. As a matter of fact, most of them here thought for a day or two I was drowned, and when our party did turn up we got quite an enthusiastic welcome’.

Pte George Brown (Lilydale), 21^st Battalion: Is on board the ‘Southland’ when it is torpedoed and everyone evacuated. After a number of hours though, the ship still hadn’t sunk and a skeleton crew was able to get the engines going again. A call was then made for volunteers to man the ship and to stoke the engine to get her into the harbour at Mudros Island. George Brown was one of a handful of soldiers who volunteered to do this and was later mentioned in a special order by the Commander in Chief for doing so.

James Harrison (Wandin): Born at Wandin and then living at Geelong, he leaves his job as a law clerk and enlists in the AIF, he is 22 years old.

Francis Johnson (Seville): Leaves his job as the manager of Killara Station and enlists in the AIF, he is 32 years old.

Ern Morey (Lilydale): Born at Lilydale and then living at Yarra Junction, he leaves his job as a law clerk and enlists in the AIF, he is 23 years old.